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Masterlist

Writing is my main form of escape.

My ask box is currently open so you can escape too.

Prompt List

Here is a list of current fandoms and characters I write for:

A Court of Thrones and Roses

Rhysand

Azriel

Cassian

Eris

Fourth Wing

Xaden

Garrick

Bodhi

Dain

Ridoc

Brennan

Moments IIII (Azriel x Reader)

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: A collection of moments in parenthood with Azriel.

Authors Note: The post you've all been waiting for! For this I pictured Azriel with a boy - he gives boy dad energy to me. I actually adored writing these and so I hope you all enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

The first time it happened you were already weeks along.

Azriel had been halfway through lacing the leather straps around his forearms preparing to leave for the day when he heard you make a strange, strangled sound from the bedroom.

Not words.

Just... panic.

By the time he'd reached the bathroom, shadows curling anxiously around his ankles, you were kneeling on the cold stone floor, gripping the edge of the toilet as another wave of nausea overtook you.

He was beside you before you even registered he was in the room.

One scarred hand gathered your hair away from your face while the other rested between your shoulder blades, rubbing slow circles through your sleep shirt.

He didn't speak. Didn't tell you it would pass. Didn't offer empty reassurances.

He simply stayed.

Every time you lurched forward, he held your hair tighter. Every time you sagged back, exhausted, he was there to catch you before your forehead hit the side of the bath.

When the worst of it finally eased, you let out a miserable little whimper.

"I hate this," you whispered hoarsely.

Azriel's heart cracked. "I know."

You looked up at him with watery eyes. "I wanted to enjoy being pregnant."

His expression softened so completely it stole your breath. "You are allowed to hate parts of it."

A tear escaped despite yourself. "But everyone says it's supposed to be magical."

His thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching it before it fell.

"You're growing our child." His voice was impossibly gentle. "That's the magical part."

His gaze drifted to the toilet with a tiny grimace. "This..." he said dryly, "...is simply awful."

A weak laugh escaped you. "I don't feel magical."

"You look beautiful."

"I've just been sick."

"You still look beautiful."

"I probably smell."

"I haven't noticed."

"You are objectively lying."

"Never."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, utterly spent. "I don't know how women do this for months."

"You don't have to do it alone."

He stood carefully, helping you to your feet when another dizzy spell made the room tilt.

Immediately his arm tightened around your waist. "I've got you."

"I can walk."

"I know."

Yet he made absolutely no move to let go. Instead, he guided you back towards your bedroom at a pace that would have frustrated you any other day.

Every few steps he glanced sideways. "Too fast?"

You shook your head. "No."

"Dizzy?"

"A little."

He hummed thoughtfully before, without warning, scooping you effortlessly into his arms.

"Azriel."

"You said you were dizzy."

"I can still—"

"I know."

"You don't have to carry me."

"I want to."

You sighed dramatically. "I'm becoming terribly high maintenance."

"You are carrying my child."

"As if that's an excuse."

"It is."

His shadows danced happily around the two of you, weaving little circles through the morning light as he laid you gently back into bed.

Before you could protest, he'd disappeared in a flurry of shadows.

You frowned. "Az?"

He returned less than a minute later with an armful of things.

A glass of water.Dry toast. A bowl. Fresh peppermint leaves steeping into tea. A cool cloth he'd dampened with icy water.

You blinked.

"...When did you—?"

"I asked Madja."

"You what?"

"The day after you told me you were pregnant."

Your eyebrows climbed. "You... prepared?"

"I've been reading."

"You've been reading?"

"Several books."

"You read pregnancy books?"

"They were very...graphic."

Despite yourself, you laughed again. "I can't believe you."

"I also made notes."

"You made notes?"

He reached into his pocket.

Sure enough, he materialised a folded piece of parchment covered in his meticulous handwriting.

Hydration. Small meals. Crackers before standing. Peppermint. Ginger. Call Madja if—

You stared.

"You've been carrying that around?"

"In case you needed me."

Your throat tightened painfully. "Az..."

He looked suddenly uncertain.

"I know I can't fix it." His voice was so quiet you almost missed it. "I would if I could."

Your eyes filled instantly.

"I can't take the sickness away."

"I know."

"But I can hold your hair. I can rub your back."

You nodded, reaching for his hand.

"I can make sure you eat. I can carry you when walking feels impossible."

His scarred fingers intertwined with yours.

"And if all you can manage is lying here while feeling miserable..."

He lifted your joined hands and pressed a lingering kiss against your knuckles.

"...then I'll feel miserable right beside you."

You gave a watery laugh. "That sounds horribly inefficient."

"It is."

"You'll never get any work done."

"I've informed Rhys I'll be unavailable."

Your eyes widened. "You what?"

"I told him my mate comes first."

"And what did Rhys say?"

Azriel's mouth twitched. "'Good. Because Feyre threatened to paint over my study if I tried to send you on a mission.'"

You burst into genuine laughter this time. The sound seemed to light something inside him.

He smiled too—that rare, quiet smile that always felt like a gift.

Then he knelt in front of you again, resting one careful hand over the barely-there swell that only the two of you knew existed.

"So," he murmured to your stomach. "If you're going to make your mother this sick..."

He leaned down conspiratorially.

"...you owe her at least your father's wings."

You snorted. "Oh, absolutely not."

He looked up innocently. "What?"

"I'm the one doing all the hard work and you're already negotiating genetic traits?"

"I think it's only fair."

You rolled your eyes, though they were full of affection. "You are impossible."

"So I've been told."

Another wave of nausea threatened, and before you'd even spoken, Azriel was already moving—lifting your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing slow, comforting circles over your back exactly the way you liked.

Not because he'd been asked.

Because he'd already learned.

Because he noticed.

Because loving you, even on the hardest mornings, came as naturally to him as breathing.

Azriel had faced armies without flinching. He'd flown headfirst into impossible battles. He'd endured centuries of torture without making a sound.

You had seen him calm in situations that sent everyone else into chaos.

So when you dropped the teacup onto the kitchen floor one quiet afternoon and simply stared at the spreading puddle beneath your feet—

He barely looked up from the report he was reading.

"You dropped—"

"I..." You blinked.

Something warm trickled down your legs.

"...Az."

His hazel eyes lifted. You looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes.

"I think..." Your voice came out barely above a whisper. "...my water just broke."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

The report slipped from Azriel's fingers. For one long heartbeat, he simply stared. Then every ounce of colour drained from his face.

"Now?"

You gave a tiny, nervous nod. "I think so."

Another second passed.

Then—

"Rhys!"

The shout shook the House. Not because he was loud, but because Azriel never shouted.

Footsteps thundered from somewhere upstairs.

Cassian burst through the doorway first. "What? What happened?"

Azriel was already moving.

"No—" He stopped. Turned back. "No, shoes."

He disappeared. Then reappeared three seconds later carrying...

One boot. Just one. He stared at it.

"...Right." He vanished again.

Cassian blinked. "...Is he—"

"My water broke."

Cassian's eyes became the size of saucers. "Oh."

Another pause.

"Oh."

Azriel returned carrying both boots this time... and, for some reason, Truth-Teller strapped across his back.

You couldn't help it. "You brought a dagger."

He looked genuinely confused.

"...I did?"

His gaze dropped over himself. "Oh."

Without another word he yanked the weapon free, leaned it against the wall...

...and immediately picked it back up again by accident while reaching for your cloak.

Rhysand appeared in the doorway.

"What in the Cauldron is—"

He took one look at Azriel.

"...She's in labour."

"My water broke," you corrected gently.

Rhys looked between the two of you.

Then at Azriel, who was currently trying—and failing—to tie your bootlaces because his scarred fingers were shaking so violently.

Rhys' lips twitched. "Oh."

Cassian folded his arms. "I've never seen him like this."

Neither had you.

Not once. Not when Hybern had snapped his wings. Not when he was bleeding from half a dozen wounds. Not even during those fifty years where Rhys was trapped Under the Mountain.

But now?

His breathing was too quick. His shadows were darting frantically around the room, knocking cushions from chairs and extinguishing candles before relighting them a second later.

He looked completely lost.

You reached for his wrist. "Az."

His head snapped up instantly. "What? What is it? Are you in pain?"

"You need to breathe."

"I am breathing."

"You're panicking."

He opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Instead, he took one enormous breath. Then another.

You squeezed his hand. "I'm okay."

Madja had told you this day would come. You'd packed the bags weeks ago. Everything was ready.

Everything except Azriel.

He suddenly looked around the room as though seeing it for the first time.

"The bag."

"It's by the door."

"The blankets."

"In the bag."

"Food?"

"In the bag."

"The tiny clothes?"

"In the bag."

"The—"

You couldn't help smiling.

"They're all in the bag."

He stared at you. "...You packed everything."

"Three weeks ago."

"Oh."

His shoulders sagged with relief for approximately half a second. Then another thought struck him.

"Madja."

Rhys nodded. "Already sent for."

"She needs to hurry."

"She's already on her way."

"What if—"

A small contraction interrupted you—not painful enough to frighten you, just enough to make you pause and grip the edge of the table.

Azriel was at your side before you could blink. One arm wrapped securely around your waist. The other cupped your face.

"Look at me."

You did. His own fear was written plainly across every inch of his face. Not fear of becoming a father, but fear of losing you. You all knew the dangers of an Illyrian pregnancy.

"I've got you," he whispered.

You smiled softly. "I know."

His forehead rested against yours. "I don't know what I'm doing."

A tiny laugh escaped you. "I don't either."

"I was supposed to be prepared."

"You've read six books."

"None of them covered..." He gestured helplessly at the puddle on the floor. "...that."

Despite everything, you laughed. His expression softened immediately at the sound.

You rested your hand against his cheek. "You've always been the calm one."

"I know."

"So I think it's my turn."

His eyes closed for a brief moment as he leaned into your touch. "I don't think I like this arrangement."

"You don't have to."

"You could have picked literally any other day."

"Oh, yes." You smiled. "I scheduled it specifically to inconvenience you."

"I knew it."

Another contraction came and went. His thumb stroked absent-mindedly across your knuckles until it eased.

The front door opened. Measured footsteps echoed through the hallway.

Then Madja appeared carrying a large satchel, entirely composed despite the commotion she'd undoubtedly heard from halfway across Velaris.

Her eyes took in the room in one sweep.

You. The puddle. The packed bag. Azriel, who looked about one heartbeat away from passing out himself.

She smiled knowingly.

"I see our Shadowsinger has finally found something capable of terrifying him."

Cassian snorted. Rhys outright laughed.

Azriel ignored them both. His hand found yours again immediately, gripping it as though it were the only solid thing in the world.

Madja set her satchel down and approached with her usual calm confidence.

"Let's have a look at you, dear."

Azriel made no move to leave your side.

For the first time since your water had broken, Azriel managed to draw one slow, steady breath.

Still pale. Still terrified. But as long as his hand remained wrapped around yours...

He could face whatever came next.

It happened so quickly that no one even realised what had gone wrong.

One moment your son was toddling determinedly across the sitting room, tiny arms stretched towards Azriel with an excited gurgle.

The next—

A loud crack of thunder rolled across Velaris.

Azriel reacted on instinct.

His shadows exploded from every corner of the room, surging around him in a dark, protective whirl before he'd even consciously summoned them.

Your little boy froze. His bright smile vanished. His tiny lip wobbled.

The shadows, usually so gentle around him, darted a little too fast, a little too close, reacting to Azriel's protective instincts rather than their usual playful curiosity.

And then—

A heartbreaking sob. Your son burst into tears. Not frightened of his father, just startled. His little hands shot up instinctively towards you instead.

Azriel stopped moving altogether. The shadows vanished as though they'd never existed. Every bit of colour drained from his face.

"I..." His voice cracked. "I scared him."

Your son cried harder, burying his wet face into your shoulder as you scooped him up.

"No, sweetheart," you soothed, rubbing his tiny back. "You just got a fright."

Azriel hadn't moved. He looked completely stricken, as though someone had driven Truth-Teller straight through his heart.

"I scared him."

"You didn't mean to."

"I should've controlled them."

"It was instinct."

"I scared my own son."

The words sounded like a confession, like something unforgivable.

Your heart ached.

The little boy's cries were already beginning to quiet as you swayed gently, kissing the top of his soft curls.

Azriel, meanwhile, had taken an almost imperceptible step backwards as though he shouldn't be near either of you. His shadows stayed hidden. Not one dared emerge. Even they seemed ashamed.

"Az."

He shook his head before you'd even finished saying his name. "I'll... I'll give him a minute."

He turned. You knew that look. He was going to disappear into the skies somewhere and spend the next several hours convincing himself he'd failed as a father.

"Azriel."

He stopped, although he didn't turn around.

Very quietly, you said, "Come here."

"I don't think I should."

"Come here."

He finally looked over his shoulder. His eyes were full of guilt. "He doesn't want me."

Your son chose that exact moment to peek over your shoulder. His little face was blotchy from crying, tears still clinging to impossibly long lashes.

He looked at Azriel, hiccupped, then reached out a small chubby hand towards him and made a small whining noise.

Azriel's entire face crumpled.

"You see? Everything's okay," you cooed to your son. "Daddy didn't mean to scare you."

A tiny sniff.

"Daddy's shadows just got a little overexcited."

As if hearing themselves mentioned, one very small shadow cautiously poked its head out from behind Azriel's boot.

It looked... embarrassed.

Your toddler noticed immediately and his sniffing paused.

The tiny shadow slowly slid across the floor. Then, with almost comical hesitation, it curled itself into what looked suspiciously like a little flower.

Your son blinked.

Another shadow joined it. Then another.

One became a floppy rabbit. Another a tiny bird. One attempted to make itself into a butterfly but looked more like a misshapen bat.

A tiny giggle escaped your son.

Azriel stared. "You..."

The shadows wiggled apologetically. Your toddler giggled again. Then he stretched both little arms towards Azriel.

Azriel looked utterly bewildered. "You still want me?"

The little boy frowned as though the question made absolutely no sense. He reached both hands over your shoulder and made a frustrated noise seemingly at the fact Azriel wasn't coming closer.

You smiled. "I think that's a yes."

Azriel crossed the room slowly, almost cautiously, like he was approaching a skittish animal.

The moment he was close enough, your son leaned straight out of your arms towards him. Without hesitation. Without fear.

Azriel gathered him against his chest with hands that were almost trembling. "I'm so sorry, little one."

Your son responded by patting his father's cheek with a chubby hand.

A very serious little pat. As if checking he was alright.

Azriel let out a watery laugh. "I'm sorry I frightened you."

A tiny headshake.

Whether your son actually understood or was simply copying movement, neither of you knew. But it was enough in the moment to ease the guilt in Azriel's heart.

Azriel buried his face in the soft curls atop his son's head.

"I thought..." His voice caught. "I thought he'd be frightened of me."

You stepped beside them, resting a hand against Azriel's back. "He was frightened by a loud noise, my love. Not you."

Your son chose that moment to grab a fistful of his father's hair. Hard. Azriel winced. You laughed.

"He seems traumatised."

A tiny, delighted squeal escaped your son as he tugged again.

Azriel, despite the sting, smiled into his hair. "I deserve that."

"I don't think hair-pulling is an appropriate punishment."

"I'll accept whatever sentence the court hands down."

As if agreeing, one of the shadows sheepishly drifted forward and wrapped itself around your son's tiny wrist. This time, it moved as slowly as falling snow. Your little boy watched it with wide fascination before carefully patting it with his free hand. The shadow practically melted with relief.

Azriel exhaled a shaky breath, pressing a lingering kiss against your son's temple.

"I'll do better."

You reached up, brushing your fingers over his jaw. "You're already the best."

He looked at the little boy nestled happily against his chest, then at the shadows now floating around him with exaggerated gentleness, never coming too close unless tiny fingers reached for them first.

For perhaps the first time since becoming a father, Azriel truly understood something.

His son didn't need a perfect father.

He just needed his father.

Shadows, scars, accidental mistakes and all.

The room went completely still.

Your son, who had spent the last ten minutes enthusiastically chewing on one of Azriel's siphons despite repeated attempts to swap it for an actual toy, suddenly looked up.

His bright hazel eyes landed on the male kneeling in front of him.

Tiny hands stretched into the air

"...Da."

Silence.

You blinked. Azriel blinked.

Your son grinned, thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Dada!"

Azriel looked as though someone had just struck him with lightning.

"You..." His voice came out suspiciously quiet. "...Did he just...?"

"I think he did," you gasped.

"Dada!"

Azriel's mouth actually fell open.

The infamous Shadowsinger of the Night Court—spy master, terrifying warrior, male who had made entire courts tremble—looked seconds away from crying.

He scooped your son into his arms so gently it was almost reverent.

"You said..." His throat bobbed. "You said dada."

Your son squealed happily and immediately grabbed a handful of Azriel's ear. "Dada!"

Azriel laughed. The sound filled the room.

You watched them both for a long moment before slowly folding your arms.

"Hm."

Neither of them noticed.

"Hmmm."

Still nothing.

"HMMMM."

Azriel finally looked over. "...Yes?"

You narrowed your eyes. "So that's how it is."

He frowned. "What?"

"I see where his loyalties lie."

Azriel looked adorably confused.

You pointed dramatically at the giggling toddler in his arms.

"I carried him for nine months."

Azriel's lips twitched.

"I couldn't see my own feet."

"I remember."

"I was sick every morning. I let him use my body as a personal buffet."

Azriel bit the inside of his cheek.

"And after all of that..." You pointed an accusing finger at your son. "...his first word is dada?"

Your son looked delighted to be included. "Dada!"

"Oh, don't encourage him!"

Azriel failed spectacularly at hiding his smile. "I think he just did."

You gasped. "You are both unbelievable."

Your son reached towards you.

"Mmam?"

You froze. Hope lit up your face. "...Really?"

He smiled.

"Dada."

Your jaw dropped.

Azriel lost the battle entirely. He burst into laughter. The kind that bent him forward slightly.

"You think this is funny?"

He was laughing too hard to answer. Your son, deciding laughter must be contagious, started giggling too. Now they were both laughing at you.

You stared at the pair of them. "So this is my life now, being ganged up on by a pair of boys."

Azriel somehow managed to compose himself enough to say, "Oh don't be like that honey—"

"I am being betrayed in my own house."

"Dada!"

"I know!" you told your son dramatically. "Apparently he's your favourite."

Azriel shook his head. "That's not what it means."

"Oh?"

"You spend all day with him."

"So?"

"So he's mastered the word he hears you say most."

You paused. "...What?"

Azriel smiled softly.

"You point at me constantly."

"I do not."

"You say 'look, daddy's home'. 'Daddy's making dinner.' 'Go and show Daddy what you've found.'"

You blinked.

"...I say that?"

"You do. Several times a day."

You looked at your son. Then at Azriel. Then back again.

"I guess that makes sense then."

Azriel stepped closer, shifting your son onto one hip before wrapping his free arm around your waist.

"I, however..." he murmured. "...have spent months calling you Mama."

You look up at him, a faint blush on your cheeks with the intense look on his face. If he wasn't holding your son, you'd slap him upside the head.

He smiles cheekily at you. "So don't be surprised if his second word is yours."

As though summoned by fate itself...

Your son patted your cheek.

"Mmm..."

Both of you looked at him. He frowned in concentration.

"...Mama."

You gasped.

Azriel's grin widened.

Your son beamed proudly.

"Mama!"

You made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob before immediately taking him from Azriel's arms and covering his little face in kisses.

"That's right!"

Another kiss.

"I'm Mama!"

Another.

"I forgive you!"

Your son shrieked with delighted laughter.

Azriel watched the two of you with that quiet smile that only ever belonged to his family.

After a moment he sighed dramatically.

"Well."

You looked over. "What?"

"I suppose I'm no longer the favourite."

You snorted. "You got exactly four minutes."

"It was a wonderful four minutes."

Your son twisted in your arms to look back at his father.

"Dada!"

Azriel placed a hand dramatically over his heart. "There it is."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, don't start."

He crossed the room again and wrapped both of you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple before kissing the top of your son's head.

"I don't care who he says first," he murmured. "As long as, for the rest of his life, he never has to wonder how deeply he's loved."

You smiled, leaning into his side. "I think we've got that part covered."

Your son looked between the two of you with a grin that was all sunshine and mischief.

Then, with impeccable timing, he reached out, grabbed a fistful of each of your hair...

...and yanked.

Hard.

You and Azriel winced in perfect synchrony.

The little traitor cackled.

The note arrived halfway through lunch.

Please report to the House of Wind Academy at your earliest convenience regarding your son.

That was it.

No explanation. No details. Just enough to make your stomach drop.

You looked across the table at Azriel. He'd read the note exactly once then silently stood.

"...Az?"

He was already reaching for Truth-Teller.

"Azriel."

"In case."

"In case what?"

"I don't know."

"You think our seven-year-old has declared war on his classmates?"

"I've seen what he can do with a wooden sword."

Twenty minutes later you were both sitting opposite the headteacher. Your son sat in the chair between you. Feet dangling, expression perfectly neutral, hands folded in his lap like the model student.

You looked at him suspiciously. He looked suspiciously innocent.

The headteacher sighed. "There was... an incident today."

Azriel nodded gravely. "What happened?"

The older female folded her hands. "Your son punched another student."

Silence.

You blinked.

"...He what?"

"He punched another student."

Your eyes slowly drifted to your son. He avoided eye contact by suddenly becoming deeply fascinated with the grain in the wooden floor.

The headteacher continued.

"The other child now has a rather impressive bloody nose."

You inhaled sharply. "Oh, Cauldron."

Beside you, Azriel remained perfectly still. Too still. You recognised that look. He was trying very hard not to react.

"What," you asked carefully, "started the fight?"

The headteacher looked towards your son.

You both turned as your son sighed dramatically.

"He was mean."

You frowned. "What did he say?"

"He said Nyx only gets picked first for flying because his dad's High Lord."

Your expression hardened slightly. "And?"

"He said Nyx wasn't actually good."

Another pause.

"And?"

"He called him a spoiled princeling."

"...And then?"

Your son shrugged. "So I punched him."

Absolute silence.

The headteacher cleared her throat.

"There may have been another sentence."

Your son muttered something.

"I'm sorry?"

"He..."

Another mutter.

"...Said Auntie Feyre probably paints better than Uncle Rhys rules."

You bit the inside of your cheek.

On the other side of your son, Azriel made a very suspicious coughing noise. You glanced sideways. His lips were pressed together so tightly they had practically disappeared.

The headteacher continued.

"Violence is never the answer."

Your son nodded solemnly. "I know."

"...Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you punch him?"

Your son looked genuinely puzzled. "...Because he was mean to Nyx."

The headteacher pinched the bridge of her nose.

You stared at your son. "...Sweetheart."

He looked up.

"You know we don't hit people."

"I know."

"So why did you?"

His answer came without hesitation. "Because Daddy always says we protect our family."

Silence.

You turned.

Very...

Slowly...

Towards your husband.

Azriel blinked. "...In my defence—"

"Oh, I'd love to hear this."

"I did say that, but," he added quickly, "I also said we should use words first."

Your son immediately nodded. "I did."

"You... did?"

"I told him to stop."

You looked back at him. "And?"

"He didn't."

"So?"

"So..." Another shrug. "...I ran out of words."

You closed your eyes.

Beside you, Azriel quietly covered the lower half of his face with one hand. Not because he was horrified, but because his shoulders had started shaking. He was trying not to laugh.

"Azriel," you whispered through gritted teeth.

"I'm trying."

The headteacher looked between the two of you. "...Is everything alright?"

"Perfectly," you answered.

Azriel made another suspicious coughing sound.

Your son looked up hopefully. "Am I in trouble?"

You both answered at exactly the same time.

"Yes."

"No."

You turned to glare at Azriel.

He looked back innocently. "...What?"

"'No'?"

"He defended his cousin."

"He broke someone's nose."

"It doesn't sound broken."

You both questionably turned to the headteacher simultaneously.

The headteacher blinked. "It isn't."

Azriel nodded once. "There you are."

You stared at him in disbelief. "I cannot believe you."

"He shouldn't have punched him."

"Oh, now we're getting somewhere."

"He should've told a teacher."

"Excellent."

"...Then punched him."

"AZRIEL."

The headteacher looked unimpressed.

Your son looked between the two of you. "So..."

"No," you said immediately.

"No," Azriel agreed.

Your son frowned. "So I shouldn't punch people?"

"No."

"Even if they're mean?"

"No."

"Even if they're mean to Nyx?"

A pause.

You shot Azriel a warning look. He wisely kept his mouth shut. You smiled patiently.

"You tell a teacher."

Your son sighed like you'd suggested the most unreasonable thing imaginable.

He slumped dramatically in his chair. "Fine."

The headteacher smiled, relieved.

"I'm glad we've reached an understanding."

As soon as the office door closed behind you, the three of you walked in complete silence down the corridor.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Then—

Azriel quietly asked, "Did he really call Nyx a spoiled princeling?"

Your son nodded. "Mm-hm."

Another beat of silence.

Then Azriel leaned down ever so slightly. "You know..."

Your eyes narrowed immediately. "Azriel."

"...Your mother is absolutely right."

You relaxed.

"We use words and we do not throw punches."

You nodded in agreement.

"We certainly do not break noses."

Your son nodded obediently. "I understand."

Azriel smiled proudly.

"...But next time," Azriel continued in a voice only your son could hear, "aim for the stomach."

"AZRIEL!"

Your son burst into delighted laughter.

Azriel immediately threw both hands into the air. "What?"

"You are impossible!"

"I was joking."

"You absolutely were not."

"I was."

You didn't miss the wink he sent towards your son.

Your son looked up at his father with complete admiration.

"...Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"I think Mummy's your boss."

Azriel glanced at you.

You folded your arms, raised one eyebrow and waited patiently for his response.

He smiled sheepishly.

"...Your mother outranks every High Lord in Prythian."

You couldn't help laughing. "Smart answer."

"Only because I enjoy sleeping in my own bed."

Azriel expertly dodges the slap you aim his way.

Your son slipped one hand into yours and the other into Azriel's as the three of you continued down the corridor.

After a moment, he looked up.

"So..."

"No," you both said in unison.

He sighed dramatically.

"...Worth asking."

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @itmekelpy @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @starinisstuff @totis-things @sparkyspiers @booksstarryskies @bxm-2121 @spookypersondinosaur @lilah-asteria @marrfil @kuraemiii @karolamurdock @shadowmarurader @acourtofbatboydreams

#acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel drabble #azriel x female!reader #acotar azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel x y/n #azriel x original character

A request for Xaden x Reader, prompt 66! Please and thank you

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: "No, I'm trying not to kiss you."

Authors Note: Xaden Riorson is just perfection to me...

The first thing Xaden becomes aware of is warmth.

The second—

is that he's late.

His eyes snap open.

Sunlight. Far too much sunlight.

"Shit."

He's upright before he's fully awake, immediately reaching for the clock on the bedside table.

His shoulders drop a fraction. Not late, but dangerously close.

He looks down. You're still fast asleep.

Curled into his side, one arm lazily draped across his waist, your face buried against his shoulder like the most comfortable pillow in all of Basgiath.

His heart does something deeply inconvenient.

"Sweetheart."

Nothing.

He brushes a hand gently through your hair.

"We have formation."

You make a small, completely incoherent noise into his shoulder.

"We need to get up."

This time, you actually respond.

"...No."

He huffs a laugh.

"It's not optional."

"It should be."

"I agree."

"So tell them."

"I'm not explaining to General Sorrengail that my girlfriend declared formation optional."

Your only response is to somehow snuggle even closer.

Gods. This woman.

He carefully disentangles himself from your arms and swings his legs off the bed before standing. He starts gathering your discarded riding leathers from the night before, tossing them onto the end of the bed.

"Up."

You crack one eye open, before immediately closing it again.

"I've decided I'm ill."

"You looked remarkably healthy yesterday."

"It's progressed overnight."

"Convenient."

"Mhm."

He shakes his head, unable to stop the smile threatening at the corner of his mouth.

"You realise we've already been warned twice for nearly missing formation."

Silence.

Then—

"I choose to forget that."

"I noticed."

You finally sit up. Hair a complete mess. Blanket still wrapped around your shoulders. Sleep still clinging stubbornly to your expression.

You blink at him once.

Twice.

Then notice...

He's staring. Not saying anything. Just looking at you.

Your brow furrows.

"...Is there something on my face?"

Nothing. He keeps looking.

You wipe at your cheek.

"What?"

Still nothing.

His jaw flexes slightly.

You narrow your eyes. "Xaden."

"Hm?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

He sighs. Long. Dramatically. Like he's carrying the weight of the entire continent.

He pinches the bridge of his nose before muttering, "No."

You blink.

"...No?"

He looks at you again, still with that hopeless expression.

"No, I'm trying not to kiss you."

The words come out with the long-suffering resignation of a man losing a battle with himself.

You stare.

"...What?"

"We're already running late."

He gestures vaguely toward the window, almost muttering to himself now like you weren't even present.

"If I kiss you now, we'll definitely be late."

You can't help it. A grin spreads slowly across your face.

"Oh."

He immediately notices.

"...Don't."

"Don't what?"

"I know that smile."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're about to make my morning significantly more difficult."

You tilt your head innocently.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"I would never."

"Liar."

You smile even wider.

Then, before he can react you throw the blanket aside, climb onto your knees on the mattress and reach for him.

His eyes widen.

"Sweetheart—"

Too late.

Your hand slides behind his neck, fingers disappearing into the hair at the nape of it. Then you tug hard enough to pull him down.

His balance disappears immediately. He catches himself on the mattress with one hand just as your lips meet his.

The kiss is soft. Sleepy. Completely unfair.

You feel the exact moment his resolve evaporates.

His free hand cups your cheek automatically. The other settles against your waist. He kisses you back with a quiet, defeated sigh.

When you finally pull away, you're both smiling.

"There, much better."

You look entirely too pleased with yourself.

Xaden just stares at you.

"...I knew you were going to do that."

"And yet you didn't fight me."

"Details."

You laugh.

Gods, he loves that laugh.

He rests his forehead against yours for one brief second before groaning dramatically.

"This is not a good Wingleader example."

"Probably."

His eyes narrow suspiciously.

"You're not even sorry."

"Not even a little."

He shakes his head, trying—and failing—not to smile.

"You are an unbelievably bad influence."

You reach up, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from the front of his tunic.

"And yet..."

"And yet," he mutters, stealing one last quick kiss before stepping back, "I'm hopelessly in love with you."

Your heart melts.

"So..."

You glance toward the window where the morning sun is climbing ever higher.

"Formation?"

He sighs theatrically.

"Formation."

You both make it exactly halfway to the door before you catch his hand.

He looks back.

"What now?"

You rise onto your toes and press one quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Just because."

He lets out a quiet groan, dropping his forehead briefly onto yours.

"You are trying to get us killed."

"No," you say with a grin. "I'm trying to get us punishment duty together."

He laughs—a real laugh this time, warm and unguarded.

"You know," he says as he laces his fingers through yours and finally leads you toward the door, "I think that's somehow an even worse plan."

"But you'll be there."

His expression softens instantly.

"Always."

And when the two of you arrived at formation a mere thirty seconds before the professors, breathless, slightly dishevelled, and trying very hard not to look suspicious—

not a single person guessed just how close the rebellion's most feared Wingleader had come to skipping formation entirely because his girlfriend had looked impossibly adorable first thing in the morning.

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @starinisstuff @totis-things @bxm-2121 @spookypersondinosaur @lilah-asteria

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing #xaden riorson x reader #xaden x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden riorson #xaden x oc #xaden x you #xaden riorson x oc

Hi! #66 and #99 from your prompts with Garrick :)

(You’re an amazing writer by the way)

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: “No, I’m trying to kiss you” & “Is that a threat?”

Authors Note: Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy 🥰 I would give anything for the Garrick Tavis to try and kiss me!

The common room is absolutely packed.

Music blares from somewhere in the corner. Someone is standing on a table. The room is warm, noisy, and full of riders celebrating the rare opportunity to drink without worrying about formation the next morning.

Garrick has been attached to you all night.

The problem started around drink number three.

One moment he'd been perfectly normal. The next, he'd decided that being more than two feet away from you was apparently unacceptable. An arm around your shoulders. A hand on your waist. His chin on top of your head. At one point he'd actually followed you across the room just to continue a conversation you'd already finished.

The only reason you've gotten a break is because Liam and Bodhi had physically dragged him away to join an arm-wrestling tournament. You'd watched him go with considerable amusement.

Now, half an hour later, you're chatting with a few riders near the fireplace when movement across the room catches your eye.

Garrick.

The look of determination on his face is honestly impressive considering how much he's clearly had to drink. He's weaving through the crowd like a man on a mission, occasionally bumping into furniture and then one unfortunate rider, but the determination remains.

You start laughing and from the look on his face you know trouble is coming.

Garrick finally reaches you and immediately wraps both arms around your waist - hard - the force of his muscly 6'4 frame nearly knocks you backwards as he practically barrels into you.

"There you are," he sighs in contentment.

"Here I am," you grin up at him.

He makes a pleased noise and promptly buries his face against your shoulder. You can't stop smiling. He's ridiculously affectionate when drunk.

For a few moments he simply clings to you, swaying slightly. Then significantly. Then alarmingly. You have to tighten your grip on his shoulders before he topples over.

"Easy there, big guy."

"I'm perfectly stable." His statement is immediately undermined when he nearly falls sideways.

You snort. "Of course you are, darling."

He seems entirely unconcerned. Instead, he nuzzles closer. His cheek brushes yours. Then his nose nudges your jaw. Then your cheek again.

You blink, before suddenly recoiling as far as Garrick's hold would allow when you feel something wet against your cheek.

"Garrick."

"Hm?"

"Did you just lick me?"

He pauses as if this requires serious thought. Then he mumbles against your skin, "No, I'm trying to kiss you."

You burst out laughing. The sheer sincerity in his voice only makes it worse.

His head lifts and a pout appears instantly. "Don't laugh at me."

"You weren't kissing me."

"Yes I was."

"You were rubbing your face against mine and licking me like a confused cat."

The pout deepens and Garrick points at you accusingly. "I'm being romantic."

"You are many things right now—"

"And romantic is one of them."

You laugh again. His eyes narrow, then he steps closer, or tries to. The result is more of a stumble.

"If you don't let me kiss you right this second," he informs you gravely, "watch what happens."

The seriousness of the threat is somewhat undermined by the fact he's currently struggling to stand upright.

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?"

"Maybe."

"What exactly are you going to do?"

Garrick opens his mouth.

Pauses.

Then clearly realises he has absolutely no answer to that question.

"...Something."

You start laughing so hard your stomach hurts. The offended look he gives you only makes it worse.

"You're mean."

"I'm mean?"

"Very."

Gods, this man was too adorable after he’d had a drink.

At that point, you decide you've teased him enough.

Poor thing is still pouting.

You reach up, grab the front of his shirt, and pull him down into a proper kiss. Deep enough that he immediately melts. The pout vanishes and his hands wind around your waist, pulling you even harder against him. His lips move against yours sloppily yet sweetly, tasting of cheap beer but still undeniably him.

And for a few glorious seconds everything is perfect.

But somehow you've seemingly kissed all the oxygen from Garrick's lungs as you feel him start to tip backwards.

"Garrick—"

Too late.

With a startled yelp, you're both suddenly falling into the nearest armchair. Unfortunately, you're still attached to him which results in you landing directly on top of Garrick.

The impact knocks the air from both of you. Those around you who witnessed it erupt into laughter. You immediately try to sit up, except Garrick still has both arms wrapped around you like a giant human octopus.

"No, don't leave," he whines.

"Garrick—."

"No."

"We need to get up."

"No."

You try pulling free.

Nothing.

The man is built like an immovable brick wall.

Across the room, you catch sight of Liam bent over laughing. Xaden isn't much better.

You point at them. "Help."

Neither moves.

"Help!"

Liam wipes tears from his eyes. "This is the funniest thing I've seen all year."

"Xaden!"

Garrick, hearing your pleads for help through his drunken stupor, tightens his hold. "No stealing."

"You two are useless," you call toward Liam and Xaden, who are both watching the spectacle unfold with far too much amusement.

Unfortunately, your pleas only makes them laugh harder.

Several minutes later, they finally decide they've enjoyed themselves watching you struggle enough. Together, they manage to peel Garrick off you.

It's not easy.

He's surprisingly determined for someone who can barely stand upright.

The moment he's on his feet, he immediately sways and Xaden catches him before he topples into a nearby table. Garrick, meanwhile, looks deeply confused about why everyone is making such a fuss.

His gaze immediately finds you again and just like it has all evening, his entire face lights up. You can't help smiling back. That only seems to make him happier. Unfortunately, it also reminds him that he doesn't particularly want to leave you.

The moment Xaden and Liam start steering him toward the stairs, Garrick tries to turn around.

Then again.

Then a third time.

Like a dog refusing to go home from a walk.

At one point he actually reaches an arm toward you before Liam catches it and throws it back over his shoulder. Xaden looks like he's regretting every decision that brought him to this moment.

By the time they reach the bottom of the stairs, Garrick is practically being carried between them. His boots occasionally touch the floor.

The entire situation somehow becomes even funnier when he catches your eye from halfway up the staircase and his expression immediately softens.

Warm. Happy. Completely smitten. The kind of look that would be incredibly romantic if he wasn't currently being hauled upstairs like a sack of potatoes.

You laugh so hard your stomach hurts. Garrick seems delighted by the sound. He gives you an enthusiastic wave and nearly falls over.

Fortunately, Xaden firmly grasps a handful of his shirt to stop him from falling down the stairs, but the resulting glare Xaden sends him would probably kill a lesser man.

Garrick remains entirely unbothered. He’s still smiling. Still looking at you like you're the best thing he's seen all night. Which, judging by the dreamy expression on his face, you probably are.

The last thing you see before they disappear around the corner is Garrick leaning heavily against his friends while Liam struggles not to laugh himself unconscious.

And despite the embarrassment, despite the chaos, despite the fact that Xaden and Liam are practically carrying him upstairs—

Garrick looks impossibly happy.

As though being drunk, ridiculous, and completely in love might just be the greatest thing that's ever happened to him.

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @totis-things @spookypersondinosaur @starinisstuff @lilah-asteria

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing #garrick tavis fanfic #garrick tavis x oc #garrick tavis x reader #garrick x reader #garrick tavis #garrick fourth wing

Hi! Can you do 2 and 9 for Xaden from your prompt list?

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: "Don't look at them. Look at me." & "Tell me what happened."

Authors Note: Protective Xaden? Yes PLEASE.

The battle had been over for nearly twenty minutes. The courtyard in Aretia was still absolute chaos.

Riders. Fliers. Healers. Dragons.

Everyone seemed to be bleeding, including you. Which was exactly why your injury didn't matter.

At least, that was the logic you'd been operating under for the last twenty minutes.

"Sit down."

"No."

"You're limping."

"I'm walking."

"Badly."

You ignored Garrick entirely, pushing another roll of bandages into a healer's hands. "Use these for the burn victims,” you instructed.

Garrick pinched the bridge of his nose as you stubbornly continued on. "He's going to kill me."

You glanced over your shoulder. "Who?"

Garrick just pointedly stared.

You followed his gaze.

Oh.

Xaden.

Standing at the opposite end of the courtyard looking directly at you.

Well, this was unfortunate.

Because even from fifty feet away, you could tell he knew. The expression on his face said it all. Not anger, not yet anyway. Just that terrifyingly focused look he got whenever he spotted something everyone else had missed.

And unfortunately you were the thing he'd spotted.

You immediately turned away. "Nope."

"That isn't going to work," Garrick informed you.

"It might."

"It won't."

You grabbed another crate and started walking fast. Or at least as fast as someone with a deep slash hidden beneath their riding jacket could manage.

Unfortunately for you, Xaden had legs. And shadows.

A terrible combination.

You made it approximately ten steps before a wall of solid muscle stepped directly into your path. You nearly walked straight into his chest.

You looked up and smiled sheepishly up at him.

"...Hi."

His stare was flat, dangerously flat. "You're injured."

"No I'm not."

"Wrong answer."

You attempted to sidestep him. He stepped with you. You tried the other direction. Same result. It was like arguing with an exceptionally attractive brick wall.

"Xaden, I'm fine. There are people who actually need help."

His gaze dropped briefly to your side where blood had started soaking through your jacket.

Ah.

Right. That.

When he looked back up again, his expression had somehow gotten worse. “Tell me that's not yours,” he said through almost gritted teeth.

You considered lying about it, briefly.

"...I don't like lying to you."

"That's because you're terrible at it."

You opened your mouth to retort.

He pointed at you before you could. "Don't."

You immediately closed it.

You didn’t want to deal with this right now. There were others that needed help. You could barely feel the slash anyway.

Across the courtyard, Violet had noticed the stern look on Xaden's face and your bashful expression, eyes pleading for help over his shoulder. The traitor immediately turned around and started walking in the opposite direction.

Coward.

You looked toward Garrick instead. He saw the look you shot him, actually laughed, then also walked away.

Unbelievable.

"My support system is abandoning me," you said loudly enough that said traitors could still hear you.

"They're making smart choices."

You sighed dramatically. "Xaden—"

"No."

"I am literally fine."

"You're bleeding."

"It's mostly internal."

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them, because Xaden's eyes widened. "Mostly internal?"

You winced. "...That sounded better in my head."

The next thing you knew, the ground disappeared.

"XADEN!"

The idiot had simply picked you up, like this was a completely normal way to resolve disagreements. One arm hooked beneath your knees and the other supporting your back. He was careful not to jostle your wound, ignoring your protests entirely.

"Put me down right now."

"No."

"People are watching."

"I don't care."

"You're causing a scene."

"You're bleeding."

You looked desperately toward Violet, but she immediately found something fascinating happening in the sky.

"Garrick!"

He looked suddenly very interested in a nearby dragon.

Absolute cowards.

Xaden carried you straight into one of the makeshift healer's tents, letting the tent flap close behind him as he ducked inside. The second he set you down on a cot, you tried standing again which was a mistake.

Your knees immediately buckled and Xaden caught you before you could hit the floor. And just like that, the fight and irritation on his face left him long enough for concern to start showing through the frustration.

His hands settled carefully on your shoulders. "Hey."

You hated that tone, that gentle one. It was the one he used when he was worried and you hated when he worried.

"I'm okay."

"You almost just collapsed."

"I tripped."

"No you didn’t."

"Yes I did."

Xaden studied your face for a long moment. The stubbornness. The exhaustion. The pain you kept trying to hide.

Then he sighed. Long and slow, like he was trying very hard not to lose his patience.

"You've spent the last twenty minutes helping everyone except yourself."

"They needed it."

"So do you."

You looked away immediately. Toward the door. Toward literally anywhere else.

And that was when his hands gently caught your face. Not rough. Not forceful. Just firm enough that you couldn't avoid him.

Your eyes darted instinctively toward the window, to the courtyard beyond.

Garrick.

Violet.

Anyone.

Help.

Xaden immediately noticed what you were trying to do. His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek.

"Don't look at them."

Your gaze flicked toward the door again. "Sweetheart." His tone was gentle and firm. Unavoidable. “Look at me."

Slowly, reluctantly, your eyes met his, and the frustration in his expression vanished instantly.

Because now he could actually see you.

The pain you were hiding. The exhaustion. The way your eyes were slightly glassy. The fact that you were holding yourself together through sheer stubbornness alone.

You always hated taking care of yourself over other people.

His face softened immediately.

"There's my girl."

Your throat tightened. You hated when he did that. When he looked at you like he could see every wall you were trying to build.

He usually could. He knew you too well after all these years. His hand slid gently into your hair.

"Tell me what happened."

You shook your head. "It doesn't matter now."

"It matters to me."

"It was just a sword."

His eyebrows rose. "Just a sword."

You winced. "...When you say it like that it sounds bad.”

"When did it happen?"

You sighed. "Near the end."

"How near?"

"A while ago."

His expression didn't change, which somehow made confessing worse as you knew what was coming next.

A pause.

Then—

"You've been walking around with a serious injury for nearly an hour?"

"It sounds bad when you say it."

"It is bad."

You groaned.

And for the first time since he'd dragged you in here—

Xaden smiled. Tiny. Exasperated. In love.

"You are impossible."

His forehead rested briefly against yours, just for a second. Relief flooding through him now that he knew what was wrong. Now that you were finally letting him help, albeit reluctantly.

"You know," he murmured softly, "for someone so smart, you make some truly terrible decisions."

You huffed a weak laugh.

His words were quiet and affectionate. And suddenly you realised—

he hadn't been angry.

Not really.

Just terrified. Terrified because he'd looked across a battlefield and found you bleeding. And you had smiled and told him you were fine, even though you clearly weren’t.

His arms wrapped carefully around you, mindful of your injuries.

"Next time," he said into your hair, "you let someone take care of you."

You snorted. "Next time?"

"There will absolutely be a next time."

"That's rude."

"It's realistic."

And despite everything—

despite the pain, the exhaustion, and the healer who was about to walk in and undoubtedly side with Xaden—

you found yourself smiling.

Because for all his manhandling, bossiness, and overprotective tendencies, being loved by Xaden Riorson had always meant never having to face things alone.

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @starinisstuff @totis-things @spookypersondinosaur @lilah-asteria

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing #xaden riorson x reader #xaden x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden riorson #xaden x oc #xaden x you #xaden riorson x oc

You're avoiding me (Ridoc x Reader)

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: "You've avoiding me."

Authors Note: Public Service Announcement, everyone needs some more Ridoc in their lives. Request by @xadensthroneroom

"You're avoiding me."

The words aren't accusatory. That's what makes them so much worse.

You freeze halfway through stuffing a stack of reports into a satchel, shoulders immediately tensing. The archives are almost empty this late in the evening. The silence stretches between you and Ridoc.

You don't look up as you respond, "I'm busy."

"Right." His boots scrape against the stone floor as he approaches. "You've been busy for five days."

You focus very hard on a report that suddenly seems fascinating.

Had it really been five days already?

Five days since Violet's quest squad had been announced. Five days since you'd learned Ridoc would be leaving Basgiath. Five days since panic had taken up permanent residence in your chest.

"You're imagining things."

"Am I?"

You hear him set something down, then silence. The kind Ridoc only uses when he's genuinely upset.

Against your better judgement, you glance up. He's leaning against a table, arms folded across his chest. Not smiling. Not teasing. He's just looking at you.

Hurt.

And gods, that somehow feels worse than if he'd been angry.

"You skipped dinner."

You look away.

"You skipped training."

You swallow.

"You conveniently disappear every time I walk into a room."

"Ridoc—"

"You left formation before I could catch you."

Your throat tightens.

He takes a slow breath. "So don't tell me you haven't been avoiding me."

The truth sits heavily between you. Because he isn't wrong. The problem is that he doesn't understand why.

"You know what?" he says quietly. "I'd rather you yell at me."

Your head snaps up. "What?"

"I'd rather you be angry." His laugh is hollow. "At least then I'd know where I stand."

Something painful twists inside your chest because that's the last thing you wanted.

"Ridoc—"

"No, seriously." He gestures helplessly. "Did I do something? Say something? Because if I did, tell me."

"You didn't."

"Then what is it?"

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because saying it aloud makes it real.

The quest. The journey. The danger.

The possibility that he might not come back. The possibility that one day you'll be standing in formation listening to a death roll with his name on it.

The thought alone makes your stomach churn.

Ridoc's expression softens slightly as he watches the thoughts flash across your face.

And suddenly he knows. You can see the exact moment it clicks.

"Oh."

You immediately look away.

His voice becomes gentler. "It's because I'm leaving."

The words crack something inside you. You slam your satchel shut harder than necessary. "No."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I said no."

"You practically sprint in the opposite direction every time you see me."

You laugh bitterly. "Maybe because every time I see you, I'm reminded that you're leaving."

The room falls silent.

Your breathing feels too loud, too uneven. You stare at the table because if you look at him, you're afraid you'll cry and you absolutely refuse to cry.

Not about this. Not while he's still here. Not when he needs you to be strong.

"I don't know how Violet does it," you admit quietly.

Ridoc doesn't interrupt.

"I don't know how any of you do it."

Your fingers tighten against the edge of the table.

"Every mission. Every battle. Every stupid, reckless thing riders do." You laugh again, but it sounds broken. "You leave and everyone acts like it's normal."

The pressure behind your eyes burns.

"But what if it isn't normal?" You finally look at him. "What if something happens to you?"

There it is.

The thing you've been avoiding. The thing you've been refusing to acknowledge.

Fear.

Pure, overwhelming fear.

Ridoc's face softens completely and he finally begins to understand. "You think if you avoid me it'll hurt less when I leave."

You don't answer.

Because yes, that was exactly the plan. A stupid one, but the only one your panicked brain had managed to come up with.

Ridoc exhales slowly before pushing away from the table as he steps closer to you. You expect him to argue and to tell you you're being ridiculous.

Instead he stops directly in front of you. Close enough that you can see the faint freckles across his nose. Close enough that you can smell the leather of his flight jacket.

"You know what the worst part is?"

Your heart sinks. "What?"

His hand finds yours.

"The fact that you've been dealing with all of this alone."

The tears you've been fighting for days suddenly become much harder to control.

"Ridoc—"

"I'm scared too."

You blink. "What?"

He gives you a small smile. Not his usual flirty grin, just something honest. "You think I don't know how dangerous this is?"

The admission catches you completely off guard.

Because Ridoc is Ridoc. He jokes. He laughs. He makes everyone else feel better. You sometimes forget he's just as afraid as the rest of you.

"I know the risks," he says quietly. His thumb brushes across your knuckles. "But avoiding each other doesn't give us more time."

That lands like a physical blow.

Because he's right.

Gods, he's right.

You've spent almost a week hiding from him. A week you'll never get back.

Your vision blurs, before a tear finally escapes.

"Hey." Ridoc immediately steps closer. The concern on his face is instant. His hands settle on your arms. "Hey, none of that."

You let out a watery laugh. "That's easy for you to say."

"No, it isn't."

His forehead gently bumps yours. The familiar gesture nearly undoes you. "I don't want to leave you either."

Your eyes close.

For a moment neither of you speak. You stand there, foreheads pressed together, relishing in the physical presence of each other.

The silence feels different now. Softer. Less painful.

"I hate this," you whisper.

"I know."

"I hate that you're going."

"I know."

"I hate that I can't stop worrying."

At that, he smiles. A real smile this time. "You're worried about me?"

You roll your eyes through your tears. "Don't."

"What?"

"Don't get smug."

"I'm absolutely getting smug."

You let out a reluctant laugh. The sound seems to relax something in him.

"There she is," he says. His hand rises to cup your cheek. "I've missed you."

Your heart aches. Because he's standing right here and has been all along. You've missed him, even when you've been the reason you haven't seen him.

"I missed you too."

The confession is barely audible.

Ridoc grins. "I knew it."

You shove his shoulder. He laughs, then immediately pulls you into his arms.

You go willingly. Almost desperately, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face against his chest. His embrace tightens around you.

Secure. Protective. Like home.

"You know," he murmurs into your hair, "next time you're having a crisis, maybe don't solve it by pretending your boyfriend doesn't exist."

You snort. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good."

His chin rests on top of your head and for a long moment, neither of you move. You simply stand there together, holding onto each other. Making up for lost time.

Eventually, Ridoc presses a kiss into your hair.

Then another.

"You know what we're going to do now?"

You tilt your head up. "What?"

His grin returns in full force. "We're going to spend every spare second together until I leave."

You narrow your eyes.

"Every spare second?"

"Every single one."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It probably will be."

You laugh. A real laugh this time. The sound makes something warm light up in his expression.

And as he leans down to kiss your forehead, you realise the fear is still there. It probably always will be. Loving a rider means living with that fear, but you don't have to carry it alone. And you definitely don't have to spend the time you have hiding from the person you're terrified of losing.

So when Ridoc slips his fingers through yours and starts leading you out of the archives, you follow without resistance.

This time, you don't let go and you won’t until he has to leave.

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @starinisstuff @totis-things @spookypersondinosaur @lilah-asteria

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn x y/n #ridoc gamlyn x reader #ridoc x reader #ridoc fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn #ridoc gamlyn x you #ridoc gamlyn x oc

From the prompt list, could you please do 19 "who did this to you" and 15 “You don’t have to pretend with me" with Bodhi?

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: "Who did this to you?" and "You don't have to pretend with me."

Authors Note: I went with a slightly angsty version for this and from the reader's perspective as I love a vulnerable Bodhi. Hope you enjoy!

Bodhi wasn't in your room.

That was the first sign something was wrong.

Normally, after a council meeting—or, more accurately, after being trapped in a room with Xaden, politicians, military leaders, and enough responsibility to crush a lesser person—he'd find you eventually.

Usually exhausted. Maybe a tad grumpy and complaining dramatically about paperwork, but he'd always come.

Tonight, he hadn't.

You found him nearly an hour later sitting alone on one of the quieter balconies overlooking Aretia. The city stretched below, lanterns glowing softly against the mountainside.

Bodhi didn't seem to be looking at any of it. He sat on the stone railing with his forearms resting on his knees, staring into the darkness.

The moment you spotted him, your stomach sank.

Because Bodhi was many things. Loud. Sarcastic. Restless. When he got this quiet, something had happened.

You approached slowly, not wanting to startle him.

For a moment he didn't even notice you. Then your footsteps echoed softly against the stone. His shoulders tightened immediately.

"There you are," you said gently.

Bodhi forced a smile which wasn't remotely convincing. "Hey."

You stopped beside him.

The lantern light caught enough of his expression for you to see the tension in his jaw. The frustration. The exhaustion. The hurt he was trying very hard to bury.

And suddenly you had a pretty good idea who was responsible, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Your head tilted slightly. "Who did this to you?"

Bodhi barked out a humourless laugh. “That obvious?"

"To me? Yes."

He looked away immediately, which was answer enough.

You leaned against the railing beside him, crossing your arms. "Xaden?"

His jaw tightened.

There it was.

For several moments neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. You'd long ago learned that Bodhi usually needed a little space before he'd willingly talk.

Eventually he sighed heavily.

"We argued."

You nodded once, encouraging him to continue.

"He thinks I'm reckless."

The bitterness in his voice made your chest ache. You waited, and sure enough, more followed.

"He keeps pulling rank every time I volunteer for something dangerous."

You remained quiet.

"He keeps reminding me I'm his heir."

There was genuine anger beneath that one. Not necessarily anger at Xaden, but something deeper and more complicated.

Bodhi laughed bitterly again, running a hand through his hair.

"Apparently I'm supposed to stay safely behind everyone else now."

You winced.

Yeah. That tracked.

Because Xaden had lost too many people already and Bodhi was family. Not to mention he had the Dukedom and the entire population of his people to also think about.

But knowing where Xaden's concern came from didn't make it easier for Bodhi to carry.

"He's trying to protect you," you say gently.

"I know."

The answer came immediately, frustrated and sharp.

"I know why he's doing it." His fingers curled against the stone railing. "But every time someone looks at me now, all they see is his heir."

You stayed silent, listening, because that was what Bodhi needed most right now. Not solutions, or reassurance. Just someone willing to hear him.

"They act like I'm made of glass." His voice dropped lower. "Like I'm suddenly too important to risk."

You watched him carefully. The hurt underneath the anger was becoming more obvious now.

"You think they don't trust you?" You asked the question softly.

Bodhi laughed once, short and bitter. "No, they trust me." His eyes stayed fixed on the city below as he paused. “They just don't think my life belongs to me anymore."

That one hurt him, you could hear it. Feel it. See it. The loneliness buried inside those words. The slump to his shoulders and the tension in his jaw.

"But I'll get over it," he mumbled.

Liar.

Slowly, you reached for his hand. Bodhi let you take his much larger hand in your small one. Your fingers threaded through his easily. When he didn't continue speaking, you squeezed his hand gently.

"You don't have to pretend with me."

His eyes closed immediately. Like the words had hit something vulnerable. Something he'd been holding shut all evening.

For a few moments he didn't answer, then he released a slow breath.

The confession came quietly. “I’m angry.”

"Okay."

"I'm angry at him."

"Okay."

"I'm angry that he's probably right."

That earned your full attention. Bodhi laughed softly at the surprised expression on your face, shaking his head.

"Because if our positions were reversed? I'd probably say the exact same thing."

He looked at you. You smiled sadly.

"Probably."

"Definitely."

The admission seemed to annoy him further.

You reached up, brushing a loose curl back from his forehead. His eyes immediately softened.

"You know what I think?" You asked.

Bodhi sighed dramatically. "Here comes wisdom."

"Be nice."

Despite himself, a tiny smile appeared.

Success.

You continued gently.

"I think Xaden is scared."

The smile vanished. Not because he disagreed, because deep down he'd already known.

"He lost his parents." You squeezed his hand as Bodhi looked away. “He nearly lost Violet more times than either of you can count. And now he's looking at the person he'd trust to carry everything if something happened to him."

His throat moved, swallowing harshly.

"I know."

You nodded. "I know you know."

A long silence followed. The wind shifted softly around the balcony. Far below, lights flickered across Aretia.

Eventually Bodhi exhaled heavily.

"I'm just tired of being important."

The vulnerability in the statement nearly broke your heart. Because there it was, the real issue.

Not anger. Not pride. But pressure. Too much responsibility. Too many expectations. Too many people relying on him.

You stepped between his knees then, gently taking his face in both hands. Bodhi immediately leaned into the touch instinctively, like he always did when he was hurting.

For the first time all evening, some of the tension left his shoulders at your touch.

"You know what you are to me?" you asked softly.

His mouth twitched. "A pain in the ass?"

You snorted. "Frequently. But mostly?" You brushed your thumb across his cheek, "You're Bodhi."

His gaze locked onto yours.

"Not an heir. Not a title. Not someone else's responsibility."

His expression crumpled slightly around the edges.

"And you're allowed to be angry."

You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"You're allowed to be frustrated."

Another kiss.

"And you're allowed to have bad days."

Bodhi's eyes closed briefly. When they opened again, they looked suspiciously bright.

"You're annoyingly good at this."

You smiled. "Years of practice."

He huffed out a laugh. A real one this time, small but genuine.

The sound felt like victory.

A moment later his arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer until he could rest his forehead against your stomach. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders immediately.

No questions. No pressure. Just holding him.

And for the first time since you'd found him on the balcony, Bodhi finally stopped carrying everything alone.

"If you need me to kick Xaden's ass though, I will."

Bodhi's laugh echoed through the night air.

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @starinisstuff @totis-things @spookypersondinosaur @lilah-asteria

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing #bodhi durran x oc #bodhi durran x you #fourth wing bodhi #bodhi x reader #bodhi durran

Could I please request a fic with Xaden where his girlfriend is trying to break up with him and he’s so not having it? I adore your writing

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: Breaking up with Xaden doesn't go how you thought it would...

Authors Note: Okay, I actually loved this one! I thought it was a cute idea and I hope I've done it justice!

For the last two weeks, you've been executing what you considered a very mature and selfless plan.

Unfortunately, Xaden had noticed approximately four minutes into it.

The first clue had been when you stopped stealing bites of his food. The second had been when you stopped reaching for his hand automatically. The third had been when you started saying things like "goodnight, Xaden" instead of kissing him before leaving.

That one had nearly given him a heart attack.

So by the time he corners you outside the flight field one evening, he's already deeply suspicious.

"What's wrong?"

You blink innocently.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're a terrible liar."

You sigh.

He sighs because you sigh.

Neither of you moves.

The wind tugs at your jacket.

Somewhere in the distance, dragons roar.

Xaden folds his arms.

"Try again."

You look away which is a mistake, because now he knows for certain something is wrong.

His expression immediately sharpens.

"Talk."

Your stomach sinks, because you'd been hoping to avoid this conversation entirely. For a little longer at least. Maybe a few more days, or a week. Or forever.

Unfortunately, Xaden is annoyingly observant.

"Fine."

The word comes out so abruptly that even you seem surprised by it. His eyebrows rise at your tone.

"Fine?"

You take a deep breath before your courage can abandon you—

"I think we should break up."

Silence.

Complete silence.

The kind that makes you immediately want to launch yourself off the nearest cliff.

Xaden just...

Stares.

You press on before he can interrupt because if you stop now, you'll never manage it.

"I've been thinking about it since Violet bonded Tairn. Everything's different now, you two are connected."

His expression doesn't change.

"Your dragons are connected. You'll never be able to part from each other now. She'll need to be your priority."

Still nothing.

"You have responsibilities and complications and—"

You gesture vaguely, your hands flapping as you desperately try to communicate and help him understand.

"—all of that."

The silence stretches, painfully. You force yourself to continue anyway.

"I just think it'd be easier. I don't want to get in the way."

He still gives you nothing.

Gods, this is awful.

"I love you enough to step aside if that's what needs to happen."

There. You've said it. The thing that's been eating at you for weeks.

You finally risk looking up. Ready for heartbreak. Ready for disappointment. Ready for anything.

Instead—

Xaden is smiling.

Not a huge smile. Just the tiniest upward twitch of his mouth.

Well that's not what you were expecting.

You blink.

Once. Twice.

"...Why are you smiling at me like that?"

That does it. The smile gets bigger.

You stare, offended. Of all the ways you imagined Xaden would react, this was not it. Disappointed, yes. But, ultimately you'd convinced yourself he would respect and be grateful for your decision.

"You think this is funny?"

A huff of laughter escapes him. Actual laughter.

You are trying to break up with him and he's laughing.

"What is wrong with you?"

Xaden drags a hand down his face. He looks utterly exasperated, but incredibly amused. He's still smiling. Still looking at you like you've somehow become the most ridiculous person on the continent.

Then—

"You absolute idiot."

Your jaw drops. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

You point at yourself. "You're calling me an idiot while I'm breaking up with you?"

"I'm calling you an idiot because you're trying to break up with me."

"That doesn't even make sense!"

"It makes perfect sense."

You throw your hands into the air. "Xaden!"

His smile softens slightly, something warmer slipping through. Something that makes your chest hurt.

"You've spent two weeks torturing yourself because Violet bonded Tairn?"

You open your mouth to retort, but he raises a finger.

"No. We're going to address this."

You close it again, mostly because he's using his wingleader voice.

"The dragons being connected doesn't change how I feel about you."

You look away immediately, almost like you're being scolded and because hearing it out loud hurts.

His expression softens further at your obvious discomfort.

"Sweetheart."

Your stomach flips.

Damn him.

"I need you to listen very carefully."

The amusement fades from his face completely now, leaving only sincerity. Only certainty.

"I don't love Violet."

The words hit you like a physical blow.

"I love you."

Your breath catches. Xaden steps closer until barely any space remains between you. He gently cups your cheek and turns your face back towards him.

"I loved you before Tairn bonded Violet."

His gaze never leaves yours.

"I loved you after."

Another step, your chests brushing against each other as you take a breath.

"And unless you've forgotten how time works, I plan on loving you tomorrow too."

Something suspiciously emotional stings behind your eyes.

You hate him.

A little. Maybe.

Actually, no you don't. You're completely besotted with this man.

Xaden notices that too.

The smug bastard.

"I can't believe you were going to dump me."

"I was trying to help. You've been so stressed lately with everything—"

His expression immediately becomes exasperated and you stop rambling at the look on his face.

"There it is."

"There what is?"

"The self-sacrificing nonsense."

You glare. He glares back.

Unfortunately he's much better at it and you quickly falter.

"You do realise nobody asked you to martyr yourself?"

You cross your arms. "I was trying to make your life easier."

His eyebrows shoot up. "By removing the person I love from it?"

"...When you put it like that."

"When I put it accurately?"

You groan.

"Xaden, you don't understand—"

"No, I think you're the one who doesn't understand."

Your jaw drops, but before you can retort he continues.

"I need you beside me. I can't do any of this without you. What is the point of all of this if not to give you the future I want to give you."

Well, shit, when he puts it that way—

Xaden reaches for you fully then. Slowly. Giving you time to pull away as he wraps his arms almost possessively around you.

You don't.

His hand settles on your waist, as the other spreads along your lower back, pulling you firmly against him. He feels warm and familiar.

Like home. Like your future.

"Besides," he adds casually. Something mischievous enters his expression which is usually a terrible sign. "Sgaeyl would eat me."

You blink.

"What?"

"I mean it." The smile returns in full force now. "If I let you walk away after this conversation, she'd probably drop me from the sky."

A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. Victory immediately flashes across his face.

"There she is."

You shove lightly at his chest.

"You're impossible."

"Impossibly in love with you."

He pins you with such an intense stare as he says it you can't help but blush.

"You should've taken this more seriously."

"I'm sorry I just couldn't take you seriously."

"You laughed at me."

"Because you were trying to break up with me for the dumbest reason I've ever heard."

You gasp dramatically.

"The audacity."

"The stupidity."

"The rudeness."

"The fact that you genuinely thought I was going to agree."

You love hate that he's making you smile. You really do.

Xaden seems very pleased by this development.

Then suddenly—

his hands tighten slightly at your waist. His gaze drops briefly to your mouth. When he looks back up, something softer has replaced the amusement.

Something warmer. More dangerous.

"You done trying to get rid of me?"

You swallow.

"Maybe."

His eyes narrow. "Maybe?"

You barely have time to squeak before he's pulling you flush against him.

The kiss is immediate. Certain. Toe-curling. Weeks of frustration wrapped into one devastating moment. Your hands immediately fist in his jacket because apparently your body is a traitor even though five minutes ago you were trying to break up with him.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing harder. His forehead rests against yours.

"You are never allowed to make decisions for me again."

You laugh breathlessly.

"That's not how relationships work."

"It is now."

You roll your eyes, but your arms slide around his neck anyway.

"For the record, I didn't actually want to break up with you. I was just doing what I thought was best for you."

"Self-sacrificing idiot."

Your jaw drops again, but Xaden only laughs before he presses another bruising kiss to your lips.

And judging by the look on his face as he pulls away he's already forgiven you for trying to break up with him.

Mostly because he never had any intention of letting you succeed.

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @starinisstuff @totis-things @spookypersondinosaur @lilah-asteria @bxm-2121

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing #xaden riorson x reader #xaden x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden riorson #xaden fanfic #xaden x oc #xaden x you

thegoddessofnothingness

Me after the slightest inconvenience in life:

Moments ||| (Cassian x Reader)

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: A collection of more moments with Cassian.

Authors Note: I find myself daydreaming about the General of the Night Court an unhealthy amount. No major warnings below. Self-established relationship. Moments are not in any particular order.

A rare thing happens when Cassian returns to the House of Wind that evening.

He can't find you.

At first, he doesn't think much of it. You have a habit of appearing in strange places at strange times.

The library. The kitchens. Curled up in one of the sitting rooms with a book balanced precariously on your chest. Once, he'd found you asleep on a window seat with three blankets and a half-eaten pastry.

So when he doesn't find you in your room, he merely shrugs. When he doesn't find you in the library, he frowns. By the time he's checked the dining room, training ring, balcony, and three separate sitting rooms—

He's annoyed.

By the time he circles back through the house a second time he's worried.

The bond isn't helping. It's there, but muted. Distant. Fuzzy around the edges. Enough to know you're alive, but not enough to know where you are.

Cassian swears under his breath.

He finds Feyre halfway down a corridor and she looks equally concerned.

"Please tell me you've found Nyx."

Cassian immediately stills. "What?"

Feyre's face pales slightly. "He wasn't in his room when I checked."

Oh.

Oh no.

Now there are two missing people.

Cassian's stomach drops. "How long?"

"Maybe an hour."

Cassian looks ready to launch himself out the nearest window.

"Rhys is looking downstairs," Feyre says quickly.

Cassian is already moving. Fast.

Twenty minutes later he's seconds away from a complete meltdown.

You are nowhere. Nyx is nowhere. The bond remains frustratingly hazy and Cassian is rapidly imagining every terrible possibility. There's one last place he needs to check.

He climbs another staircase. Then another, towards the highest levels of the House. Mostly unused and quiet. The sort of place people forget exists.

As he climbs, something tugs at the bond. It's faint, but it's suddenly there stronger than it has been since he returned home.

Cassian freezes. Turns. And immediately follows it.

The nook is tiny. Hidden behind a curved archway near one of the highest points in the entire House. A large circular window overlooking Velaris with a cushioned seat below. The city sparkles below like fallen stars.

And there—

At the center of the window seat—

There you are.

Fast asleep. Blankets tangled around your legs. Head tilted awkwardly against the stone wall. And sprawled directly across your chest—

Nyx.

Also asleep. Head tucked under your chin. One tiny hand tangled in your shirt.

The sight hits Cassian so hard he almost laughs. Or cries. Possibly both.

Feyre appears behind him moments later. She stops and immediately presses a hand over her heart.

"Oh."

Cassian glances back. Feyre's eyes have gone suspiciously soft.

The city lights spill across the pair of you. Nyx tucked safely against you. Your arm wrapped around him protectively even in sleep. You look entirely at peace.

For a moment, nobody speaks.

Then Feyre smiles.

"You know," she says quietly, "she'd make a wonderful mother."

Cassian's chest tightens. Because the thought has crossed his mind before, many times. Usually when you're doing things exactly like this. Taking care of everyone. Loving people so completely it seems effortless.

His gaze returns to you and something warm settles in his chest.

"Yeah," he says softly. "She would."

Cassian crouches beside you, careful not to wake Nyx. His fingers brush your cheek, then your hair moving it gently away from your face.

"Sweetheart."

Nothing. Feyre snorts quietly. Cassian rolls his eyes.

You always did sleep like the dead.

"Sweetheart."

You make a small sound, but you're still very much asleep.

He smiles despite himself, before he leans closer and presses a kiss to your forehead.

Your brow furrows and very slowly your eyes flutter open.

"Mm?"

Cassian laughs softly. You blink up at him in confusion. Then you notice Feyre, notice that you're not in your bedroom. Then you look down at Nyx.

"Oh."

Everything comes back at once. Your face immediately softens.

"He couldn't sleep."

Feyre kneels beside you. "He couldn't?"

You shake your head. "He was upset."

"What happened?"

You shrug. "Bad dream maybe. I found him wandering."

Feyre's eyes widen. You can see the guilt forming in her eyes, so you quickly place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"He was trying very hard to be brave and I know you and Rhys were busy with the Winter Court negotiations, so I brought him up here."

You glance toward the stars outside.

"He liked looking at them. We must've both lost track of time and fallen asleep. I'm sorry if we worried you."

Feyre visibly melts.

Carefully, gently, she lifts Nyx from your chest. The little boy stirs. Yawns and immediately curls into his mother's shoulder without fully waking.

Feyre kisses the top of his head before she rises to her feet, shooting you a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

You smile sleepily. "Anytime."

The moment Feyre disappears with Nyx—

Cassian turns back to you. You're still half asleep. Hair a mess and eyes heavy.

You were adorable.

He reaches out for you and you immediately lift your arms toward him without hesitation. Like it's instinct.

His heart does something embarrassing.

"Come here."

You don't even argue as Cassian scoops you up effortlessly. One arm beneath your knees and the other around your back. You immediately tuck your face into his neck.

"M'not walking."

"I know."

"Too tired."

"I know."

You mumble something unintelligible.

Cassian smiles. His wings settle comfortably behind him as he begins the walk back to your room.

"You scared me, you know."

You lift your head slightly.

"Sorry."

"I looked everywhere."

A pause.

Then:

"Did you panic?"

Cassian scoffs. "You disappeared with the High Lord's son."

You laugh sleepily. "That's a yes."

"It's absolutely a yes."

You smile against his neck.

By the time you reach your room, you're already drifting back to sleep. Cassian settles onto the bed with you still cradled against his chest, not ready to let go just yet.

You curl automatically into his side. You feel warm, safe, content.

His fingers slide through your hair, slowly and affectionately. And as your breathing evens out again, Cassian presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"I love you," he murmurs.

More to himself than to you, because you're already fast asleep already.

Dinner has long since finished.

The House is quiet tonight.

No meetings. No emergencies. No one dropping by unexpectedly. Just you and Cassian. Exactly how you both like it.

You're gathering plates from the table when a large hand appears over your shoulder and plucks two from your stack.

You blink.

Cassian is already heading toward the sink.

"What's this?" you ask suspiciously.

He glances back.

"Plates."

"No, I mean..." You gesture vaguely. "What are you doing?"

"The washing up?"

You stare. Cassian stares back. Then his mouth twitches.

"What?"

"You?"

"Me."

"The General of the Night Court?"

He rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Oh, here we go."

"You are literally one of the most feared warriors in Prythian."

"Correct."

"You never do dishes."

"I do dishes...sometimes."

You narrow your eyes. Cassian laughs and the sound fills the kitchen. Warm and easy.

Gods, you love that laugh.

"What, you think I don't know how?" he asks.

"I think you've probably intimidated someone else into doing it for you your whole life."

The gasp he lets out is so offended you almost smile.

"I'll have you know I am an excellent washer of dishes."

"Sure you are."

"I am."

"You once set a kettle on fire."

"It was one time."

You snort.

Cassian points at you. "Mock me all you want, but I'm full of surprises."

He shrugs and his expression turns suspiciously innocent.

You immediately don't trust that look.

"Uh-huh."

"And helping with the washing up means I get to do this."

You frown. "This?"

Cassian dips his hand into the sink.

Your eyes widen.

Before you can move—

He scoops up a handful of bubbles and smears them directly across your cheek. Cold foam splats against your face.

You let out an absolutely undignified screech.

"CASSIAN!"

The male has the audacity to look delighted. Actually delighted. Like this is the greatest thing he's ever done.

"You should see your face."

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU."

"You say that every day."

You grab a dishcloth.

He immediately points at you, mimicking an adult scolding a child.

"Violence is not the answer."

"You started it!"

"You looked too clean."

You make a strangled noise of outrage.

Cassian is already laughing again and that's his mistake.

Because while he's distracted—

You scoop your own handful of bubbles.

His grin drops.

"Wait."

Too late.

You smear them directly into his hair. Cassian freezes. The kitchen goes silent.

Very slowly—

He reaches up. Touches the foam and looks at his fingers, then looks at you.

"You've made a terrible mistake."

You immediately bolt.

The next five minutes are complete chaos. Cassian chases you around the kitchen island. You duck behind chairs.

He catches you. You escape.

Water gets involved somehow. Neither of you can remember who started that part. You splash him. He splashes you back.

You shriek. He laughs so hard he nearly drops a bowl.

At one point he corners you against the counter. Triumphant and covered in soap.

"You surrender?"

"Never."

"Bold."

"You look ridiculous."

"You look worse."

You splash a handful of water directly into his face.

His jaw drops. Your life flashes before your eyes.

Ten seconds later, you're both soaked. The kitchen floor is a disaster. There are bubbles everywhere. And Cassian has you trapped against his chest while you try—and fail—to reach the sink.

"Let me go."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you're plotting."

"I am not."

"You're a terrible liar."

You huff. Cassian grins, then wipes another streak of bubbles across your nose. You make a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

"You are so annoying."

"Yet you love me."

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling.

His expression softens immediately. That familiar warmth settling into his features. The one only you really get to see.

"You know," he says quietly.

"Hm?"

"I like this."

You blink. "The washing up?"

"The being home with you."

The answer is so simple. So Cassian.

Your heart squeezes.

And because he's apparently incapable of allowing a tender moment to exist for more than three seconds—

He promptly flicks a bubble onto your forehead.

You gasp. Cassian bursts out laughing.

And the water fight begins all over again.

The café is your favorite little corner of Velaris.

Tucked away on a quiet street with flower boxes beneath every window and pastries so good Cassian insists they're worth getting up early for.

Which, coming from him, is saying something.

You settle into your usual table by the window.

"I'll get breakfast," Cassian says, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before heading to the counter.

"The honey pastry," you call after him.

He throws you a lazy salute.

"Already know."

A minute later, you watch him chatting with the waitress.

She gestures apologetically toward the display. Cassian peers inside, frowning. Then he points to another pastry instead.

You can't hear the conversation, but you distinctly see him gesture back toward you. Then to the pastry. Then make a point of saying something else.

The waitress nods enthusiastically. He returns looking victorious.

"They're out of your favorite."

You pout.

"I know," he says sympathetically, setting the plate down in front of you. "But she recommended this instead."

"It looks nice."

He tears into his own breakfast while you take your first bite.

It's sweet. Rich. Different.

"Hm," you murmur.

Cassian looks up immediately. "Good?"

You nod. "I think so."

It takes less than thirty seconds.

The first itch starts at the back of your throat.

You frown, trying to swallow the feeling away. But it doesn't work, it only gets worse.

Your tongue tingles. Your chest tightens. Your stomach drops.

"Shit..."

Cassian's head snaps up instantly. "What?"

You look down at the pastry. Then back at him.

"...Nuts."

His face drains of color.

"What?"

"Nuts."

You cough hard. Your throat already feels tighter.

"Cass..."

He is beside you before you've even finished saying his name.

"What do you need?"

"My tonic." Your breathing catches slightly. "I... left it..."

Realization crashes over both of you.

"...At the House."

For half a heartbeat, Cassian simply stares. Then every ounce of warmth leaves his expression.

General. Warrior. Mate. All at once.

He doesn't hesitate.

He scoops you into his arms so quickly your chair topples backwards.

"Cass—"

"No." His voice shakes. "Hold on to me."

The café erupts into confused voices behind him as he bursts through the doors. His wings snap open and with one powerful beat you're airborne.

He has never flown this fast. The wind tears past. Your face is buried against his chest as you try to keep breathing steadily.

Every few moments he looks down.

"You stay with me."

You nod weakly.

"You hear me?"

Another nod.

His grip tightens.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, almost to himself. "Gods... I'm so sorry."

You try to answer. Another cough interrupts you.

Cassian flies even faster.

The doors to the House of Wind burst open so violently they slam against the walls.

"CASSIAN?"

Rhys.

He appears instantly, Azriel right behind him. Feyre only seconds later at the sound of the commotion. All three stop dead.

Cassian barrels straight past them carrying you.

"Where's the tonic?" he shouts.

The sheer panic in his voice makes all three of them move immediately.

"What happened?" Rhys demands.

"Nuts."

One word. That's all it takes.

Feyre pales. Azriel is already searching cupboards.

Cassian carries you straight into your room, lowering you carefully onto the bed while frantically opening drawers.

"No, no..."

He throws open another cabinet.

"Where did you put it?"

Your breathing is becoming more labored now.

"Cass..."

"I'm here."

Another drawer.

Nothing.

His hands are shaking.

"Where is it?"

You point weakly toward the bedside cabinet. You can't even get words out now.

He yanks it open and finds the small bottle immediately.

"Oh thank the gods."

He uncorks it with fumbling fingers.

"Drink."

He supports your head with one hand while carefully tipping the tonic to your lips with the other.

"Slowly."

You manage it and Cassian makes sure you take every drop. Then he sets the bottle aside and kneels in front of you. Both hands cupping your face.

Watching. Waiting. Counting every breath.

The room is silent.

Gradually your breathing begins to ease. The tightness loosens. Color slowly returns to your face.

Cassian's shoulders sag so suddenly it looks like someone has cut the strings holding him upright.

He rests his forehead against yours. Eyes closed. One shaky breath leaving him.

He kisses your forehead. Long and lingering.

You feel something wet hit your temple. You pull back just enough to look at him.

His eyes are glassy.

"I nearly—" His voice breaks. "I nearly..."

You take his hand.

"It was an accident."

He shakes his head immediately.

"I handed it to you."

"You didn't know."

"I should have."

"You didn't."

His jaw clenches and you know he's going to continue arguing.

"I heard you," you say softly.

He blinks in confusion.

"At the counter. You told the waitress about my allergy."

His brows knit together.

You squeeze his hand. "I heard you. I think..." you add with a tiny smile, "...she must've misunderstood."

Cassian looks ready to cry anyway.

"I almost lost you over a pastry."

"You didn't."

"No, but I nearly did."

He lets out a humourless laugh.

Behind him, Feyre finally exhales.

"Oh thank the Mother." She kneels beside the bed, gently touching your arm. "Are you alright?"

"I'm much better."

Feyre nods, though she doesn't look entirely convinced.

Rhys folds his arms, relief evident even through his composed expression. "I still think Madja should examine you."

Azriel nods once in agreement.

You sigh dramatically.

"I feel fi—"

Four sets of eyes immediately fix on you, including Cassian's.

You smile sheepishly.

"...I was going to say 'fine,' but I don't think any of you are going to believe me."

"No," all four of them answer at once.

You laugh. The sound is a little weak, but it's enough.

Cassian closes his eyes briefly in relief, mumbling under his breath as you lean gently against him.

"You know," you say after a moment, "I'd really rather you didn't burn down my favorite café."

Cassian blinks.

"I didn't say I was going to."

"You were thinking it."

"...Maybe."

"You absolutely were," Azriel mutters.

Cassian doesn't even deny it. "They almost killed my mate."

"It was an accident," you remind him.

He sighs. "...Fine."

You smile.

"No burning?"

"No burning."

A beat.

"...Strongly worded conversation?"

Rhys pinches the bridge of his nose. "You're not threatening the staff either."

Cassian looks personally offended. "I wasn't going to threaten them."

Azriel raises a brow.

"I was going to have a calm discussion."

"With your siphons glowing?" Rhys asks dryly.

"...Possibly."

You can't help laughing again.

Cassian's head turns immediately toward you, all thoughts of revenge disappearing the moment he hears it.

He reaches up, brushing a thumb gently across your cheek. Then presses one more kiss to your forehead. Soft and reverent. Like he's still reassuring himself you're really there.

When Madja arrives a few minutes later, Cassian refuses to leave your side.

His hand never leaves yours.

Not once.

"You'll have to do better than that."

You glare at him.

"I've been trying to do better than that for the last hour."

Cassian twirls his practice sword lazily in one hand, entirely too smug for someone who has just sent you sprawling for what feels like the fiftieth time.

"I know."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"...I do a little."

He laughs, broad shoulders shaking.

"Come on. Again."

You groan dramatically, pushing yourself back to your feet.

The training ring is quiet this afternoon, the rest of the Illyrians long since gone. The mountain air is crisp, both of you damp with sweat, your muscles burning pleasantly from hours of drills.

Cassian has been relentless.

Every mistake corrected. Every opening exploited. Every successful strike met with a proud grin that somehow only made you want to hit him harder.

"Eyes up," he reminds you.

You roll them.

"They are up."

"They're glaring."

"They're glaring at you."

"Good." He settles into his stance. "So make it count."

You charge. He blocks. You pivot. He counters.

Steel rings across the training ground as you exchange blow after blow. Faster. Sharper.

You've learned his habits over the months. The slight shift in his shoulders before he attacks. The way his right foot plants just before a heavier strike.

The tiny habits no one else notices because you've spent countless hours right here with him.

He comes in from the left. You block.

He smiles because that's exactly what he wanted.

He starts to shift—

And this time...

You don't follow his rhythm. You create your own. Instead of retreating, you step into him.

His eyebrows shoot up.

Your practice blade hooks his aside. Your shoulder catches his chest. Your foot sweeps behind his ankle. For one glorious second Cassian's balance disappears.

"...Oh."

It's the only warning he gets.

The General of the Night Court hits the ground with a loud thump.

Complete silence.

You both stare at each other. Cassian lying flat on his back. You standing over him. Your practice sword still raised.

Neither of you move.

Then—

"I did it."

Your voice is barely above a whisper. You look down at him.

"I did it."

Your grin grows impossibly wide.

"I DID IT!"

Your triumphant shout echoes across the mountains. You throw both arms into the air.

"I KNOCKED YOU ON YOUR ASS!"

Cassian is still staring up at you.

Then, the slowest smile you've ever seen spreads across his face.

Gods.

He looks proud.

"So you did," he says softly.

You drop your sword immediately and practically bounce over to him.

"Did you see that?"

He laughs. "I was there, sweetheart."

"I actually got you!"

"You actually got me."

"I've never got you!"

"I know."

He pushes himself upright. You expect teasing. A sarcastic comment. Some excuse about slippery footing.

Instead, he reaches for you. Large hands settling gently on your waist.

"I am so damn proud of you."

Your excitement stills. "What?"

"I meant every time I told you that you were getting stronger."

His thumbs brush lightly against your sides.

"You've stopped fighting like you're trying not to hurt me."

You blink.

"You committed."

He smiles.

"You trusted yourself."

He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

"And you swept my leg."

"I did."

"Dirty."

"You taught me."

"I absolutely did."

You beam. "Guess you shouldn't have."

He snorts. "No."

Then, before you can say another word—

He cups your face and kisses you.

It's warm. Fierce. A little breathless. Definitely sweaty.

You laugh against his mouth.

"You taste like salt."

"So do you."

He steals one more quick kiss anyway. Then brushes a damp strand of hair back behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

"There." His thumb lingers against your cheek. "My beautiful little menace."

You puff your chest out proudly.

"You'd better watch your back now."

Cassian's grin turns positively wolfish. "Oh?"

"I've figured you out."

"Have you?"

"I have."

He nods thoughtfully. "I am genuinely thrilled to hear that."

You cross your arms. "I sense a 'but.'"

"There is a but."

You sigh dramatically. "Of course there is."

Cassian takes one slow step closer.

"You've earned that victory. But even when you win…”

He taps your forehead lightly, before his other hand suddenly catches your wrist.

"...you still have to watch your back.”

Your eyes widen.

"Cass—"

Too late.

With one smooth movement he hooks your ankle and gently—but efficiently—sends you straight back onto your backside.

"Oof!"

You land in the sand with an undignified squeak. Cassian bursts into laughter.

You point accusingly up at him.

"That was sabotage!"

"That," he says, still laughing as he offers you a hand, "was a lesson."

You grab it.

Instead of letting him pull you up—

You yank. Hard.

He barely moves.

"You keep trying that," he says smugly.

"It'll work one day."

"I almost hope it does."

He hauls you effortlessly to your feet, but instead of letting go, he pulls you straight into his chest. One arm around your waist. The other wrapped around your shoulders.

You look up at him, wrapping your arms around him in return.

"I'm still counting it as a victory."

"You should."

A beat.

Then—

"But don't think for one second I'm going easy on you tomorrow."

You groan dramatically. Cassian just laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He slings an arm around your shoulders as you both head back toward the House, still bickering over whose victory had really counted.

And for perhaps the hundredth time that day—

Cassian finds himself smiling.

Not because he'd lost. But because one day...

He knew you might just beat him for real.

And he couldn't wait for that day to come.

You'd broken the bed.

Not spectacularly, although Cassian would argue otherwise. One of the legs had simply... given up with a loud crack in the middle of the night during a particularly rigorous move on his part.

The mattress had lurched sideways, you had both rolled onto the floor in a tangle of blankets and wings, and you had both laughed so hard you’d nearly cried.

It was still embarrassing to admit however, but Cassian didn’t seem to mind. Mostly because he'd kept trying to tell everyone who would listen the story.

"I don't understand why we're here," Cassian sighed dramatically as you wandered through the largest furniture shop in Velaris.

You looked at him in disbelief. "Our bed is literally broken."

"It still functions."

"It has three legs."

"We can just move the mattress to the floor."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "You are impossible."

The shop itself was beautiful.

Rows of polished oak bedframes, plush mattresses and enough bedding to make you want to redecorate the entire House.

You stopped in front of one carved from dark walnut.

"Oh..."

Cassian immediately abandoned you.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

He'd already climbed onto the display bed. "I am testing it."

"Cassian."

"You said we needed a new bed."

"I did not say you could treat the shop like your bedroom."

He bounced once experimentally.

"Hm."

"Cassian."

He bounced again. "This one's good."

You folded your arms. "You've been on it for approximately six seconds."

"I know quality."

"You know naps."

"They're practically the same thing."

You ignored him and wandered over to a display of bedding instead. Your fingers drifted across a deep emerald duvet.

"I really like this."

Cassian glanced over. "...I don't."

You blinked.

"You don't?"

"It scratches."

"You haven't touched it."

"I can tell."

"You absolutely cannot."

"I have instincts."

You laughed, shaking your head.

"I didn't realise bedding was where you drew the line."

He wandered over, looping an arm around your shoulders as he looked down at the fabric.

"It'll make my wings itch."

You looked up at him and your expression softened before you immediately put the bedding back.

“I just had to mate with an Illyrian brute…” you mumbled.

“Oh, come on sweetheart. You love these wings.”

You just rolled your eyes. He grinned and kissed your temple before wandering off again.

A shopkeeper approached with a warm smile.

"Can I help you both at all?"

"We're looking for a new bed," you explained. “Preferably larger than the one we had before.”

Before you could continue—

“Why do we need an ever bigger one?” Cassian asked.

“Because of your wings,” you replied bluntly.

“Well what was wrong with our old one?”

“It was too small still—“

“No it wasn’t—“

“Please Cass, I just want—.”

“Is it because I have a fat ass?”

Cassian looked at you, completely serious.

You stared at him, unable to help the corner of your mouth creeping up.

"...Excuse me?"

He pointed triumphantly. "See! You laughed!"

"I laughed because you're ridiculous."

"You literally said I have a fat ass last week.”

"I said you take up the whole bed!"

"Semantics."

"It's your enormous wings!"

"And my magnificent backside."

You groaned, covering your face.

The poor shopkeeper looked utterly lost.

Eventually you found a bed you both actually liked.

"Finally," you sighed.

Cassian immediately threw himself backwards onto it. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. He spread his arms wide.

"Oh, this is nice."

You shook your head. "You're unbelievable."

He looked up at you with entirely too much innocence.

"You should test it too."

"I can tell it's comfortable."

"Not properly."

"Cassian."

"Come lie down."

The shopkeeper, unfortunately, was still standing there.

You felt your face warm. "Cassian..."

"What?"

"We're in public."

"So?"

"So stop encouraging me to lie in a display bed with you."

"I’m just trying to make sure this one is sturdier than our old one, especially with those new moves you seemed to like—“

You smacked him lightly around the back of the head.

"Oy!"

The shopkeeper, displaying the patience of a saint, cleared his throat.

"So... are you two moving? Is that why you need a new one?”

"Oh," Cassian said. "It broke."

"Yes," you said quickly. "It was just old."

Cassian nodded.

"Well..."

You slowly turned to look at him.

"...Technically—"

"Cassian."

"—it wasn't entirely the bed's fault."

"Cassian."

"You see, we were—"

Smack.

You slapped him upside the head again. He rubbed the back of it, looking deeply wounded.

"What?"

"You are absolutely not telling that poor male how our bed broke."

"I think he'd appreciate the story."

"I think he'd like to finish his shift without wanting to disappear into the Sidra."

The shopkeeper suddenly found a reason to walk away. Very quickly.

An hour later...

You'd narrowed it down to two beds. You stood between them. Frowning.

"I genuinely can't choose."

Cassian looked from one to the other. Then back at you.

"I have a solution."

"You do?"

"We don't buy either."

You stared.

"...That's your solution?"

"We get ice cream."

You couldn't help laughing. "That solves absolutely nothing."

"It solves us not having ice cream."

You considered it. "...You make an annoyingly compelling argument."

"I know."

"And where exactly are we sleeping tonight?"

Cassian's eyes lit up. "The River House."

"So we can annoy Rhys?"

"So we can annoy Rhys."

You grinned. "And steal Feyre's biscuits."

You slipped your hand into his. Cassian squeezed it, smiling down at you.

"You know..."

"What?"

"I don't actually care which bed we end up with."

"No?"

He shook his head. "As long as you're in it."

You smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"That was smooth."

"I know."

A beat.

Then he added with a completely straight face—

"...But I'd still recommend one that's built to survive my fat ass."

You burst into laughter right there in the middle of the street.

"That is not why we're buying a bigger bed!"

"It definitely is."

"It's your wings!"

"It's both."

"It's the wings."

"We'll agree to disagree."

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @itmekelpy @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @starinisstuff @totis-things @sparkyspiers @booksstarryskies @bxm-2121 @spookypersondinosaur @lilah-asteria

#acotar fanfiction #cassian fanfic #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian #cassian x y/n #cassian x oc

Moments Part II (Bodhi x Reader)

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: A collection of more moments with Bodhi.

Authors Note: I'm proud of this one and really enjoyed writing them. Bodhi is just a dream! Established relationship below. No warnings. The moments are inspired by life and in no particular order.

The first thing you noticed wasn’t the cold.

It was the noise.

Boots against stone. Dragons roaring somewhere high above the clouds. The sharp bark of orders echoing across the courtyard as candidates stumbled away from the parapet.

Your legs still trembled from the crossing.

Every muscle in your body ached with leftover adrenaline, with fear, with the horrifying certainty that one wrong step would have sent you plummeting into the ravine below.

But you’d made it.

You’d made it.

The realization barely had time to settle before someone shoved past you, muttering congratulations to another candidate. The courtyard blurred around you in a haze of exhaustion and disbelief as you searched the sea of uniforms almost frantically.

A year.

A full year without him.

No letters. No visits. No messages. Nothing except the occasional rumour that Bodhi Durran was alive, thriving, terrifyingly good in combat training, and attached at the hip to his cousin whenever they weren’t flying.

You had clung to every scrap of information like it was oxygen.

But now came the part that suddenly felt far more terrifying than the Parapet.

What if he’d moved on?

Basgiath changed people. Hardened them. There were hundreds of cadets here, stronger and braver and prettier than you. What if Bodhi had found someone else during the year you’d spent apart?

What if you crossed the parapet only to realize you’d been holding onto something that no longer existed?

Your stomach twisted painfully as you scanned the courtyard.

Then you saw him.

Your breath caught.

Across the crowded courtyard, standing half-shadowed beside the stone archway leading deeper into Basgiath, was Bodhi.

He looked older.

Broader through the shoulders. Harder around the edges. His dark brown hair was slightly longer than you remembered, his curls windswept, and there was a new scar cutting faintly on his chin.

But it was still him.

Still your Bodhi.

And the second his eyes found yours, the composure vanished entirely.

You watched it happen in real time.

The tension leaving his shoulders. The sharp inhale. The sheer relief.

Then he was moving.

People swore as he shoved past them, uncaring, his gaze locked on you like he thought if he looked away for even a second you might disappear.

You barely had time to brace yourself before he reached you. Nervousness and hope tangling so tightly inside you that you could barely breathe.

But the second Bodhi reached you, every fear you’d carried for the past year shattered completely.

“Gods, you're finally here,” he breathed.

And then his arms were around you.

Hard. Desperate.

The force of it nearly knocked you backwards, but he caught you instantly, hauling you against his chest like he physically couldn’t get close enough.

You made a broken sound the moment you felt him.

Because he was real.

Warm and solid and most importantly, alive.

Your hands clenched in the back of his riding jacket as he buried his face against your hair, his breathing uneven.

“You crossed,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion. “You actually crossed.”

You laughed shakily, though it dissolved into something embarrassingly close to a sob. “Barely.”

“No.” He shook his head quickly, voice thick with emotion. “Don’t do that. Don’t downplay it. You crossed the fucking parapet.” His forehead dropped against yours as he laughed breathlessly. “I’m so proud of you.”

The words hit harder than you expected.

Because beneath them was something even bigger.

He’d waited.

You could hear it already.

“You waited?” you whispered.

“Waited?” Bodhi huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “I’ve been waiting at that courtyard entrance for hours like a lunatic.”

Despite yourself, you smiled weakly.

His thumbs brushed beneath your eyes gently, and only then did you realise you were close to crying.

“I didn’t know if…” Your voice faltered. “I didn’t know if you’d still want this after a year.”

Bodhi stilled completely.

Then his brows furrowed like the very idea offended him.

“Are you serious?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly unable to look at him. “You’ve been here. Around all these people and—”

Bodhi cut you off by kissing you.

Completely, utterly cutting the thought from your mind and stealing the words from your mouth.

One hand slid into your hair as he pulled you firmly against him, kissing you with a kind of desperate relief that stole the air from your lungs instantly.

It wasn’t gentle at first.

It was emotional.

A year of missing each other poured into a single moment.

The kiss tasted like exhaustion and cold air and pent-up longing, and your hands clenched hard in the front of his jacket, pulling him closer as he kissed you like he’d thought about doing it every day since he left.

Around you, the courtyard noise seemed to disappear entirely.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours again, both of you breathing unevenly.

“Of course I waited for you,” he said softly.

Every word was deliberate and sincere.

“I would’ve waited another year. Or five.” His hand tightened slightly at your waist. “There was never going to be anyone else for me.”

Your eyes burned painfully.

Bodhi gave you a small, emotional smile before kissing you again—slower this time, softer, lingering like now that he finally had you here, he wanted to memorise every second of it.

When he pulled back, he stayed close enough that your noses still brushed. His arms wrapped around you tightly, tucking you against his chest protectively as he pressed a kiss into your hair.

“You’re here,” he whispered again, sounding a little awed by it. “Gods, I missed you.”

By the time you finally dragged yourself into the riders’ quadrant, you were fairly certain your legs no longer functioned properly.

Extra combat training had stretched hours longer than expected after your squad leader decided everyone’s footwork was “embarrassing enough to insult every dragon in Navarre.”

Which apparently translated to:

Again. And again. And again.

You were sweaty, bruised, starving, and one inconvenience away from collapsing face-first onto the stone floor.

The dining hall was already mostly empty by the time you reached it.

Of course.

You stared miserably at the abandoned serving tables where only a few scraps remained.

A questionable piece of bread.

Something grey that might once have been meat.

And one very aggressive-looking carrot.

“You’re late.”

The familiar voice came from behind you, warm amusement woven through every syllable.

You turned to find Bodhi leaning lazily against one of the stone pillars, arms crossed over his chest.

Your heart did its usual stupid little skip.

He was still in partial flight gear, dark curls slightly windswept from the evening air, a dagger strapped to his thigh and that annoyingly handsome smirk already forming when he saw your expression.

“You look terrible,” he informed you.

“How romantic.”

“I try.”

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled faintly and crossed the hall toward him. “If you’re here to mock me, at least let me eat first.”

“That’s the thing.” Bodhi pushed off the pillar slowly. “You can’t.”

You blinked at him flatly, gesturing to the empty tables. “I had gathered.”

“No, I mean physically.” His mouth twitched. “Because if you eat whatever that is”—he pointed toward the grey mystery substance—“you’ll probably die.”

“At this point, that might be a mercy.”

He laughed softly through his nose before his expression shifted into something gentler.

“You skipped lunch too.”

It wasn’t a question.

You groaned immediately. “Don’t start.”

“You trained for six hours straight today.”

“I’m aware.”

“And somehow forgot food exists?”

“I was busy getting repeatedly thrown onto my back.”

Bodhi’s eyes flickered briefly with concern at that before he sighed dramatically, reaching behind him.

“That’s why,” he said, pulling something from beneath his jacket, “I brought reinforcements.”

Your eyes widened.

“Is that—”

“A lemon cake,” he confirmed smugly.

Not just any lemon cake either.

The good lemon cake.

The one the kitchen only occasionally made that disappeared within minutes because every rider in Basgiath fought over it like vultures.

You stared at him in genuine disbelief. “Where did you even get that?”

Bodhi looked unbearably pleased with himself. “Trade secret.”

“You stole it.”

“I prefer the term strategically acquired.”

“You stole dessert for me?”

“You skipped dinner for extra training,” he corrected. “Obviously I stole dessert for you.”

Something warm bloomed painfully in your chest.

Because this—this ridiculous, tiny thing—was so completely Bodhi.

Not grand declarations. Not dramatic speeches.

Just quietly noticing you hadn’t eaten and making sure you had something anyway.

You took the plate carefully from his hands like it was priceless.

“You are genuinely my favourite person.”

“I know.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he said, stepping closer, “here you are. Looking at me like I hung the moon.”

“I’m looking at cake like it hung the moon.”

“Cruel.”

You laughed softly for what felt like the first time all day.

Bodhi watched you take the first bite with an expression that bordered on smug satisfaction.

The second the flavour hit your tongue, your eyes practically rolled back.

“Oh my gods.”

“There it is,” he said immediately.

“What?”

“The face you make when you eat dessert.”

You pointed your fork at him threateningly. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

“I’m just saying, if you looked at me the way you look at lemon cake, I’d never recover.”

“You’re jealous of cake?”

“When you’re looking at it like that, then yes.”

You snorted so suddenly you nearly choked.

Bodhi grinned outright then, bright and warm and entirely too attractive beneath the flickering dining hall lanterns.

“You tired?” he asked more quietly after a moment.

Your shoulders sagged instantly. “So tired.”

Without hesitation, he reached over and brushed his thumb lightly beneath one of the bruises forming on your forearm.

“You pushed too hard again.”

“I had to finish the drills.”

“You also have to remain alive.”

“Debatable.”

His expression softened into that look he only ever seemed to wear around you.

Fond. A little worried. Entirely gone.

“You know,” he murmured, “normal people just eat meals when they’re hungry.”

“Well, unfortunately for me, my squad leader is a psycho.”

“I always suspected Xaden was.”

You hummed in agreement, already forking another piece.

“You’re cute when you’re eating, you know.”

Your face warmed instantly.

Bodhi noticed. His grin turned downright lethal as he leaned down slightly, voice quieter now.

“There she is.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

You stared at him for exactly two seconds before shoving a forkful of lemon cake directly into his mouth.

Bodhi made an offended noise around the bite while you laughed properly this time, the sound echoing through the mostly empty hall.

And honestly?

The way he looked at you afterward—smiling with frosting at the corner of his mouth like making you laugh was the best part of his entire day—felt sweeter than the dessert itself.

You had every intention of staying awake for him.

Truly.

You’d even prepared for it.

Blankets pulled up around your shoulders, one dim lantern still burning beside your bed, your favourite snacks ready, and a book open in your lap while the wind howled faintly outside.

Bodhi had left before curfew for a weapons drop near the border, and though he’d acted casual about it, you knew missions like that could turn dangerous quickly.

So yes, you were going to wait up for him.

But when he slipped quietly into your room sometime after two in the morning, he found you exactly as expected—completely unconscious, curled beneath a mountain of blankets with a book half-open across your chest and the bedside lamp still burning.

Bodhi huffed a silent laugh.

“Knew it,” he murmured fondly to himself.

Carefully closing the door behind him, he crossed the room as quietly as possible, wincing when one of his buckles clinked against the wall.

You didn’t stir.

Honestly, impressive.

He paused beside the bed for a moment just looking at you.

Fast asleep. Completely unaware of the world. One hand tucked beneath your cheek while the other still loosely held onto the corner of your blanket like you’d passed out mid-thought.

His chest did that annoying soft thing it always did around you.

Bodhi gently slid the book from your grasp before setting it aside, then tugged the blankets higher around your shoulders.

You immediately made a sleepy little sound and burrowed deeper into them.

Ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

“You know,” he whispered while carefully unfastening the daggers from his thighs, “if I was an attacker, you’d be dead by now.”

A long pause.

Then, from somewhere beneath the blankets—

“M’counting on you to handle that.”

Bodhi bit back a laugh.

Your eyes never even opened.

“Have you only just woke up?”

“Mhm.”

“Excellent survival instincts.”

“You’re loud.”

“I’m literally whispering.”

You frowned faintly in your sleep like even this conversation was too much effort.

Bodhi shook his head affectionately before moving to the bedside lamp. He dimmed the flame carefully until darkness settled softly across the room, moonlight spilling pale silver through the windows instead.

The second the room went dark, you blindly reached toward the empty side of the bed.

Still half asleep.

Still searching for him automatically.

Something in Bodhi’s expression softened instantly.

He stripped off his flight jacket, leathers and boots as silently as possible before finally climbing into bed beside you.

The mattress shifted.

Within seconds, you scooted across the sheets and practically attached yourself to him without waking properly, immediately stealing his warmth.

“There’s my girl,” he whispered with a grin.

You made another sleepy noise against his chest that sounded vaguely threatening.

Bodhi laughed silently through his nose before wrapping an arm around you, pulling the blankets securely around both of you.

Your face immediately tucked into the crook of his neck.

Comfortable. Content. Barely conscious.

He pressed a soft kiss into your hair.

“You waited up terribly, by the way.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m offended.”

“You'll get over it.”

The response was so quick despite your exhaustion that Bodhi actually had to press his lips together to stop himself laughing out loud.

“You’re mean when you’re sleepy.”

You were already drifting again. “You love me anyway.”

Unfortunately, that was true.

Painfully true.

Bodhi smiled to himself in the darkness before brushing his fingers slowly through your hair, feeling your breathing grow heavier against him by the minute.

Mission exhaustion still clung heavily to his bones, but with you curled around him like this, warm and safe and sleepily insulting him, the tension slowly eased from his shoulders.

Right before you fell fully back asleep, you mumbled something barely coherent against his throat.

“What was that?” he whispered.

“…missed you.”

The words were so soft he almost didn’t hear them.

Bodhi’s entire expression gentled instantly.

He pressed another lingering kiss against your forehead before settling deeper into the pillows beside you.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.”

The second your boots hit the ground, Bodhi was already stalking toward you.

Not relieved. Not smiling.

He was furious.

The battlefield around you still burned with chaos after the battle—smoke curling into the darkening sky, dragons roaring overhead, riders shouting to one another as medics sprinted across the clearing—but all of it blurred into background noise the moment you saw his face.

Oh.

He was angry angry.

Your dragon barely had time to settle before Bodhi reached you, grabbing your upper arm hard enough to make you stumble toward him.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped.

You blinked at him, still breathless from the fight. “Excuse me?”

“That stunt you pulled in the air!”

“You mean saving your life?”

Bodhi’s jaw clenched so tightly you thought his teeth might crack.

The image still replayed viciously behind his eyes:

The wyvern diving toward him from above.

His own dragon pinned mid-turn.

And then you—

Gods.

You throwing yourself directly between them.

The blast of fire missing you by mere inches.

Too close.

Far, far too close.

“You could’ve died,” he hissed.

“And you would’ve died if I didn’t!”

The words cracked sharply between you.

Around the two of you, riders moved carefully out of the way. No one wanted to be caught in the middle of whatever this was.

Bodhi raked a hand violently through his hair, pacing a few steps away before turning back toward you again.

“You don’t get to do that,” he said harshly.

Your temper flared instantly despite the lingering adrenaline still shaking through your limbs. “Do what? Fight?”

“Throw yourself into danger without thinking!”

“I did think, Bodhi!”

“Then that’s worse!”

The shout echoed loud enough that even nearby dragons shifted uneasily.

You stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re actually angry at me for protecting you?”

“I’m angry because you nearly got yourself killed!”

“And I’d do it again!”

The second the words left your mouth, Bodhi looked like you’d physically struck him.

His expression cracked completely.

Fear bled through the anger so suddenly and so nakedly that it stole the rest of your argument straight from your lungs.

“You can’t say things like that,” he said quietly.

The shift in tone hurt more than the shouting had.

Bodhi looked away from you then, chest heaving hard beneath his flight jacket as he tried—and failed—to pull himself back together.

When he spoke again, his voice sounded rough.

“I can’t lose you too.”

The words hit like a blade between your ribs. Everything inside you softened instantly.

Bodhi laughed once under his breath, but there was no humour in it. “Do you have any idea what it felt like watching that happen?”

You stayed silent.

“I saw the fire miss you and all I could think was—” His voice broke abruptly. He swallowed hard and tried again. “I already lost my parents. I can’t—”

He stopped himself there, jaw tightening sharply.

But it was too late.

You’d already seen it.

The terror beneath the anger. The panic. The grief he carried around like armour.

Bodhi had looked terrified in the air.

Not angry.

Terrified.

Your own anger dissolved completely.

Slowly, carefully, you stepped closer. “Bodhi…”

He shook his head immediately, like he was frustrated with himself now for letting you see too much.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he admitted finally, voice low and wrecked around the edges. “I watched you dive in front of that thing and for a second I thought…” He exhaled shakily. “Gods.”

The fight drained out of him all at once after that.

Like the adrenaline had finally worn off enough for the fear to settle properly.

You reached for him carefully this time, resting your hands against his chest.

“I’m okay.”

“You almost weren’t.”

“But I am.”

Bodhi closed his eyes briefly.

The tension in his shoulders looked painful.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered. “The second I thought you were gone, I couldn’t breathe.”

Your chest ached violently at the confession.

Without another word, you pulled him toward you.

For a moment he resisted purely out of stubbornness.

Then he broke.

His arms wrapped around you so tightly it almost hurt as he buried his face against your hair, holding you like he needed the physical proof that you were still here.

Still alive.

Still his.

You felt the slight tremor in his breathing before he steadied it again.

“I know why you did it,” he murmured against your temple eventually. “And gods help me, I love you for it.”

Your throat tightened instantly.

“But don’t ever scare me like that again.”

You winced slightly. “Can’t exactly promise that I'm afraid.”

Bodhi let out a muffled groan against your shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

A tiny smile pulled at your mouth despite everything. “You love me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.”

The answer came immediately.

Automatic.

And even now, shaken and exhausted and emotionally raw, he still tilted your chin up afterward and kissed you like he’d nearly lost the chance to ever do it again.

The first time Bodhi kissed your knuckles before training, you thought he was mocking you.

You’d been standing at the edge of the sparring mat trying—and failing—not to look nervous while your opponent cracked his neck across from you.

Bodhi had noticed immediately, of course.

He noticed everything.

“You’re overthinking again,” he’d said casually, stepping into your space.

“I’m not.”

“You’re picking at your sleeve.”

You immediately dropped your hand.

Traitorous habit.

Bodhi smirked faintly before reaching for your wrist and tugging you closer without a hint of hesitation, like touching you had become second nature long ago.

“What are you doing?” you asked suspiciously.

“Fixing it.”

“Very ominous phrasing.”

“Shh.”

Before you could question him further, he turned your hand over gently in his grasp and pressed a quick kiss against your knuckles.

Soft. Brief. Warm enough to send your thoughts scattering completely.

“There,” he said smoothly. “For luck.”

You stared at him.

“…What?”

Bodhi looked unbearably pleased with himself now that you were visibly flustered instead of anxious.

“You heard me.”

“That’s your version of encouragement?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Unfortunately, it had.

You won the spar within three minutes purely fueled by confusion and lingering heart palpitations.

After that, it became a thing.

Not intentionally at first.

But before every challenge—every sparring match, every gauntlet run, every briefing that made your stomach twist with nerves—Bodhi would find you beforehand.

And every single time, he’d take your hand and press a kiss against your knuckles.

“For luck.”

It became so routine you eventually stopped questioning it.

Mostly.

“You know this isn’t actually doing anything,” you informed him one morning before flight drills.

Bodhi raised a brow while lacing his fingers through yours. “Wrong.”

“Oh?”

“You haven’t died yet.”

“That’s your standard?”

“At Basgiath?” He leaned down to kiss your hand lightly. “Absolutely.”

You rolled your eyes, but warmth still spread embarrassingly through your chest anyway.

The worst part?

You started relying on it.

Not because you actually believed it was lucky.

But because Bodhi always looked at you the exact same way afterward.

Steady. Certain. Like he had complete faith you could survive anything.

And gods, it did something to you.

Unfortunately for your dignity, other people started noticing too.

“Seriously?” one of your squadmates groaned one afternoon while watching Bodhi stop you outside the briefing hall. “You two are disgusting.”

Bodhi ignored him entirely.

Taking your hand like always, he kissed your knuckles once before murmuring, “Don’t let them kill you today.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Your best is occasionally concerning.”

Then he walked away before you could respond, leaving you standing there warm-faced while your squadmate gagged dramatically beside you.

“You are both intolerable.”

“He’s charming,” you defended weakly.

“He’s obsessed with you.”

That—

Well.

You didn’t exactly have an argument for that.

The habit continued for months.

Small. Quiet. Something special entirely yours.

Until the first real battle.

Everything about that morning felt wrong.

Too quiet. Too tense.

Even the dragons seemed restless beneath the dark clouds gathering overhead.

Riders rushed around preparing for deployment while fear coiled tightly in your stomach no matter how hard you tried to suppress it.

Because this wasn’t training anymore.

People might actually die today.

You were adjusting the straps on your flight leathers with slightly trembling hands when Bodhi appeared in front of you.

For once, he wasn’t smiling.

His expression looked tight around the edges, eyes shadowed with concern as they swept quickly over you like he was reassuring himself you were still there.

“You ready?” you asked quietly.

“No,” he answered honestly.

The admission caught you off guard.

Bodhi stepped closer before reaching for your hand automatically.

The familiar motion should’ve comforted you.

Instead, your chest tightened painfully at the look in his eyes.

Fear.

Real fear.

His thumb brushed once across your knuckles before he lifted your hand to his mouth.

This kiss lingered.

Not teasing. Not playful.

Reverent.

Like a promise, or maybe a prayer.

“For luck,” he murmured softly.

But this time, his voice sounded almost fragile around the words.

You swallowed hard. “Bodhi—”

“I know,” he said quickly, already seeing the fear on your face too. “I know.”

Then after a beat, his forehead rested briefly against yours.

“You come back to me.”

The words nearly undid you.

You nodded once. “Only if you do too.”

Something in his expression softened painfully.

“Deal.”

And even later—after the battle, after smoke and blood and terror—when you finally found each other again across the chaos of the battlefield, the very first thing Bodhi did was grab your hand with shaking fingers and press another desperate kiss against your bruised knuckles.

Like he was thanking fate for giving them back to him at all.

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @starinisstuff @totis-things @spookypersondinosaur @lilah-asteria

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing #bodhi durran x oc #bodhi durran x you #fourth wing bodhi #bodhi x reader #bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader

I'm a big fan of your moments series, all the fics are so good ♥️

Thank you so much! 🩷

Get behind me (Rhysand x Reader)

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: "Get behind me."

Authors Note: Protective Rhysand? YES PLEASE. Request by @callmeleighd

The first thing you noticed was the silence.

Not complete silence—there was never complete silence in an Illyrian war-camp—but the sudden absence of laughter from the group of warriors behind you.

It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You were carrying a basket of supplies across the camp when a shadow fell over you.

"Where are you rushing off to?"

The male's voice was thick with amusement.

You recognised him immediately. Older. Bigger. One of the warriors who thought rank and size entitled him to whatever he wanted.

You offered a polite smile and stepped around him.

"Busy."

His hand caught your wrist.

Your stomach dropped.

Not because you couldn't handle yourself—you absolutely could—but because you knew exactly how these interactions tended to go.

"You could spare a minute."

You tried pulling free. His grip tightened.

"Let go."

The smile on his face only widened. "Or what?"

The words had barely left his mouth when another voice cut through the air.

Cold. Sharp. Dangerous.

"She said let go."

The warrior's expression faltered.

You looked up.

Rhysand was striding across the training field, heading straight to you.

The warrior let go of your wrist, but he didn't back down. Instead he angled himself between you and Rhysand, his friends now gathering behind you, effectively caging you between them.

You could see Rhys's nostrils flare in anger, his teeth gritted as he stopped in front of you.

He didn't say anything at first, simply held his hand out for you. You scurried out from behind the Illyrians, immediately going to his side.

For a moment, the camp seemed to hold its breath.

Rhys stood between you and them now, shoulders squared, violet eyes fixed on the male who had initially grabbed you with a calmness that somehow felt far more dangerous than shouting ever could.

The warrior cracked his knuckles.

"You got a problem, boy?"

Rhys didn't even blink. "You touched my mate."

Your heart skipped. Not because of the words, but because of the way he said them.

Simple. Certain. Dangerous.

As if there was no force in Prythian capable of changing that fact.

The warrior scoffed. "Wasn't doing any harm."

"You grabbed her."

"She's fine."

Rhys took a step forward. "So now you're telling me how she feels too?"

The warrior's expression darkened.

Then, from the edge of the crowd that had slowly began gathering, three of his friends drifted closer.

Not rushing. Not openly threatening. Just slowly appearing at his shoulders in a silent show of support.

Your stomach tightened.

Rhys sensed immediately.

Of course he did.

Without looking away from them, one arm extended behind him.

Searching. Finding you. His hand wrapped around yours in silent reassurance. Then he pulled you slightly behind him.

"Get behind me. Stay there." The command was quiet, but firm.

Then Rhys took a step forward.

The warrior laughed.

"You really think you can take all of us?"

Rhys smiled.

The smile made you nervous. Not because it was aimed at you, but because it wasn't. You were nervous for them.

"I think I'd enjoy finding out."

The temperature around the group seemed to drop. Several warriors nearby suddenly found other places they desperately needed to be.

The warrior took another step.

Rhys didn't move. Didn't flinch. Didn't give an inch.

And then—

A familiar voice called from behind.

"Well, this looks fun."

Cassian.

The crowd immediately parted as he approached. Broad shoulders. Training leathers. A grin that promised violence.

Beside him walked Azriel. Silent. Expressionless. Even more intimidating.

Cassian stopped on Rhys's right. Azriel on his left.

Neither asked what was happening. Neither needed to.

Cassian glanced at your wrist and immediately saw the red marks. His grin vanished.

"Oh."

That single word carried an alarming amount of meaning.

Azriel's hazel eyes settled on the warrior. Cold. Deadly.

The warrior visibly swallowed. The odds had changed rather dramatically. Three against four was one thing. Three against Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel?

Entirely different.

Cassian folded his arms. "So."

The warrior shifted.

"You grabbing females now?" Cassian asked pleasantly.

"No."

Cassian pointedly raised an eyebrow.

Azriel finally spoke. Just two words.

"Walk away."

The warrior looked between the three of them.

Rhys.

Cassian.

Azriel.

Three future legends, even if nobody knew it yet. Even if they were still just boys in a brutal camp.

You could feel it. Their power. So could everyone else.

Eventually, the warrior muttered something under his breath. Then turned and walkway away. His friends followed. The crowd slowly dispersed and the tension broke.

And the very second it did, Rhys spun around, his entire focus landing on you.

"Are you hurt?"

You blinked. "What?"

"Are. You. Hurt?"

"No."

He grabbed your wrist anyway, gently inspecting it. Turning your hand over. Checking the marks. Checking your fingers. Your arm. Your shoulder. Like he expected to find some hidden injury.

"Rhys."

His jaw was clenched. "Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"Did he scare you?"

"No."

"Did—"

"Rhys."

He stopped. You could practically see the protective instincts fighting for control behind his eyes.

Cassian snorted. "Here we go."

"Don't start," Rhys practically snarled.

"Oh, I'm absolutely starting."

Rhys ignored him entirely.

His hands settled on your waist instead. Checking that you were really there. That you were alright.

You could feel the leftover adrenaline vibrating through him. The anger. The fear.

Because that was the part Rhys would never admit. He hadn't been angry first. He'd been scared. For half a second he'd seen another male put his hands on you and his mind had immediately jumped to every possible outcome.

You reached up and touched his cheek.

"I'm okay."

His eyes closed briefly. Just for a second in relief at your calming touch.

Then they opened again. He pulled you even closer, as if the previous distance of six inches had been completely unacceptable.

"Rhys," you laughed.

"What?"

"You look like you're about to wrap me in blankets and lock me in a tower."

Cassian barked a laugh. "That's exactly what he wants to do."

"It is not."

"It absolutely is."

Rhys ignored him once again.

One hand moved to the small of your back. The other found your face. Thumb brushing your cheek. Checking. Always checking.

Azriel watched the entire thing with the expression of someone witnessing a very predictable disaster.

"You realise she's fine."

"I know she's fine."

"Then why are you looking at her like that?"

Rhys frowned. "Like what?"

Cassian groaned. "Oh, Cauldron save us."

You smiled despite yourself.

Rhys immediately looked down at you. The tension finally easing from his shoulders.

"There you are."

"There I am?"

"You're smiling." As though that explained everything in his reasoning as the last of his anger disappeared.

Maybe it did.

His forehead rested briefly against yours. A small gesture, private despite the crowd and for a moment the future High Lord disappeared. Leaving only your ridiculously overprotective mate who had nearly started a war because someone put a hand on you.

Behind him, Cassian looked at Azriel.

"We should leave."

"Agreed."

"They're going to be insufferable."

"Already are."

Rhys didn't even acknowledge them.

He was too busy making sure you were still tucked safely against his side as the four of you headed back towards the training rings.

And every few steps, his hand would tighten slightly on your waist.

Just enough to reassure himself that you were still there.

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @itmekelpy @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @starinisstuff @totis-things @sparkyspiers @booksstarryskies @bxm-2121 @spookypersondinosaur @lilah-asteria

#acotar fanfiction #rhysand imagine #rhysand fanfic #rhys x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x oc #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhys x you

I shouldn't want you like this (Xaden x Reader)

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: "I didn't know where else to go" & "I shouldn't want you like this.

Authors Note: Some angst below, but a happy ending as I can't handle anything else! Requested by @ohyousillygoose

The knock comes long after curfew.

Three soft taps.

Inside his room at Basgiath, Xaden looks up from the reports spread across his desk, immediately alert.

Nobody visits him at this hour. Nobody sane, anyway.

His shadows reach the door before he does.

The moment they return, they tell him exactly who's standing on the other side.

His heart stumbles.

Then he crosses the room and pulls the door open. Any words die in his throat.

Because it's you, and you're hurt.

Blood streaks one side of your face. Your rider jacket is torn at the shoulder. One eye is already beginning to bruise.

For a second, neither of you speaks.

Then Xaden's expression turns lethal. "What happened?"

You sway slightly on your feet. "I got jumped."

His stomach drops. "By who?"

You shrug weakly and the movement makes you wince.

His jaw tightens immediately. "Inside."

You don't argue. Honestly, you're too tired to.

The door shuts behind you and suddenly you're acutely aware of where you are.

His room. His space. His scent lingering on everything.

A place you haven't been in months.

Not since things became... complicated.

Not since Violet.

Not since fate decided to take the future you'd both been quietly building and set it on fire.

You shouldn't be here.

Gods, you absolutely shouldn't be here.

Yet when the attack happened—

when fear and pain and adrenaline had hit, this was where your feet had carried you.

Straight to him.

Xaden is already moving, fetching supplies, bandages and water from the small ensuite attached to his Wingleader dorm.

His movements are sharp and efficient, but beneath them you can see it. The anger and the worry. The barely controlled violence.

When he returns, he kneels in front of where you're sitting on the edge of his bed. The sight alone nearly undoes you, because Xaden Riorson doesn't kneel for anyone.

Yet here he is, gently tilting your chin upward and beginning to examine every bruise, scrap and cut. His touch is impossibly careful, like you're something fragile and precious.

Neither of you says much. You haven't really known how to talk to each other lately.

Not properly. Not after everything. Not after Violet.

The silence stretches between you as he cleans a cut near your temple.

You hiss quietly as he applies pressure.

His expression darkens immediately. "Sorry."

The apology is automatic and softly spoken in comparison to the look of thunder on his face. And somehow that hurts worse, because once upon a time this would've been easy.

Once upon a time you would've leaned into his touch without thinking, but now every brush of his fingers feels dangerous.

He moves closer to clean another cut along your cheek. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him. Close enough that your stupid heart starts acting like it's never seen him before.

You hate this. You hate how much you still want him. How much it still hurts.

His thumb brushes lightly against your jaw as he wipes away dried blood.

And before you can stop yourself—

the words slip out.

"I'm sorry for coming," you whisper, "I didn't know where else to go."

His hand stills just briefly, before continuing careful and steady. But something shifts in his expression. His jaw tightens, but he says nothing else.

His face inches from yours as he carefully cleans another cut and all you can think about is the memory of him.

The almosts. The what-ifs.

The way he used to look at you before everything changed. The way he kissed your forehead after difficult days. The way you once thought for one brief, foolish period of time that maybe he might love you.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

"I shouldn't want you like this."

The confession slips out before you can stop it.

Immediately, the room goes still and Xaden freezes. You wish the floor would open and swallow you whole.

Not anymore.

Your voice cracks slightly as the rest of the sentence goes unspoken, but loudly heard.

Especially now. Especially after Violet and the night in the courtyard and the moment you had unwittingly stumbled into.

You finally manage to meet his eyes.

That was a mistake.

He looks completely unreadable. No denial. No reassurance. Nothing.

Just silence.

Your stomach drops straight through the floor.

Of course.

What had you expected? For him to say that he wanted you back? For him to choose you?

You laugh quietly, bitterly and the sound hurts.

"Forget I said that."

You look away immediately because you can't bear to watch whatever expression comes next.

A few minutes later, your wounds are bandaged. The silence never really breaks and somehow that feels worse than rejection.

When Xaden finishes with your wounds, you slowly stand.

"Thank you."

Your voice sounds distant, even to you.

Xaden remains kneeling where he is. Watching silently as you move toward the door.

One step. Then another.

Your hand reaches for the handle. And that's when his hand closes around your wrist. Firm and certain.

You stop and your heart immediately betrays you.

"Xaden—"

Before you can finish, he gently pulls you back. Not enough to hurt, just enough to stop you from leaving.

The movement brings you closer than either of you intended. His grip loosens immediately, sliding from your wrist to your hand instead.

For a moment, neither of you says anything.

The silence stretches.

Then—

"Please don't."

You look up.

"Don't leave without me explaining why."

You know exactly what he's referring to. The kiss. The one thing neither of you has spoken about for weeks.

Your stomach sinks immediately.

Xaden exhales heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. "It was a mistake."

The words come out rough.

"I cared about Violet. I won't lie about that." His gaze drops briefly before returning to yours. "But the bond between our dragons complicated everything and made me think there was something there."

You stay silent, watching him. Listening.

For once, he doesn't seem interested in hiding behind half-truths or carefully chosen words.

"I spent months trying to convince myself I was doing the right thing."

A humourless laugh escapes him.

"Giving myself space. Giving her space. Trying to figure out whether any of what I was feeling was actually mine."

His eyes meet yours again.

"But every time I thought about walking away from you, it felt wrong."

Your heart stumbles.

Still, he keeps going because once the floodgates open, they don't seem interested in closing.

"I thought if I ignored it long enough, it would get easier but it didn't. I've been meaning to talk to you for days now."

The room feels impossibly small now. You can barely breathe.

Then his expression softens.

"I opened that door tonight and saw you standing there hurt and all I could think was thank gods you came to me."

Something in your chest cracks.

"You said you didn't know where else to go."

A faint smile touches his lips, small and tender.

"Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

You swallow hard, still unable to speak because if you try, you aren't entirely convinced your voice will work.

Xaden takes another step closer. "You came to me." The words sound almost disbelieving, like he still can't quite believe it himself.

"And suddenly I realised how stupid I'd been." His thumb brushes lightly against your hand. "I know we never made it official, but I know what I want."

He takes a deep breath.

"I don't want to spend another day pretending I don't still want you."

Your breath catches.

His gaze never leaves yours as he says, "I want you."

Simple. Certain. Devastating.

Silence follows.

Long enough that uncertainty finally begins creeping into his expression. For the first time all night, Xaden looks nervous, actually nervous

His brow furrows slightly. "Say something."

The request comes out quieter than everything else, almost hesitant.

You stare at him for another second.

Two.

Then slowly exhale. The tension leaves your shoulders all at once.

And despite everything—

despite the weeks of confusion and hurt and longing, you find yourself shaking your head.

"You're an idiot."

Relief hits him so hard it's almost visible. A laugh escapes him immediately.

"You are an absolute idiot."

His smile grows. "Is that any way to thank the man who just cleaned blood out of your hair and off your face?"

You roll your eyes. "See? Idiot."

The smile on his face is so familiar it hurts.

So familiar. So him.

For a moment neither of you moves. You just stand there, looking at each other. And suddenly all the distance of the last few weeks feels incredibly stupid.

So you solve the problem for both of you.

You step forward, grab the front of his shirt, and kiss him. The sound Xaden makes is somewhere between surprise and relief. His hands find your waist immediately, like they've been waiting months to be allowed there again.

When you finally pull back, he's smiling.

He rests his forehead lightly against yours. "Feel better?"

You narrow your eyes. "No."

His grin widens. "No?"

"You still have a lot of apologising to do."

A laugh escapes him. Warm and genuine.

Gods, you've missed that sound.

"Fair."

His arms tighten around you slightly, just enough to keep you close without exacerbating your injuries.

Like he's making sure you're real. Like he's afraid if he lets go, you'll disappear again.

He's never letting you walk away from him again.

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @starinisstuff @totis-things @spookypersondinosaur @lilah-asteria

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing #xaden riorson x reader #xaden x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden riorson #xaden x oc #xaden x you #xaden riorson x oc

I love your writing! Could I please request prompt 42 with Garrick?

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: "There's my favourite person."

Authors Note: I would love to be Garrick Tavis's favourite person ❤️

The infirmary is rapidly running out of patience with Garrick.

He'd returned from a mission a few hours earlier with a deep wound along his side where a blade had caught him.

Not life-threatening, but deep enough that every healer in the room had warned it needed cleaning and stitching before it became infected.

Garrick disagreed.

Now he sat on the edge of an infirmary bed, arms folded across his chest, stubbornly ignoring everyone around him while a healer glared daggers at him from across the room.

Xaden stood nearby looking thoroughly exhausted.

After nearly an hour of arguing, threatening, and attempting to reason with Garrick, he'd finally given up.

Instead, he'd sent a discreet message.

Because if even Xaden couldn't make him see reason, there was one person Garrick would actually listened to.

You arrived from where you had been on duty across the outpost twenty minutes later.

The moment you stepped through the infirmary doors, Garrick looked up in surprise and immediately smiled.

A genuine one, the kind that transformed his entire face.

"There she is. There’s my favourite person."

The warmth in his voice made several healers exchange knowing looks.

Xaden simply sighed in relief.

Finally.

You crossed the room quickly, only for your concern to grow as you took in the blood staining the bandages wrapped around Garrick's side.

"What happened?"

He looked almost sheepish.

"Got cut."

You stared.

Then looked at the healer. Then at Xaden.

Both wore identical expressions of frustration and impatience.

Understanding dawned across your face immediately as you realised why Xaden sent for you.

"You've been refusing treatment."

Garrick suddenly found the floor very interesting.

You closed your eyes briefly, crossing your arms across your chest.

Of course he had.

Stepping forward, you carefully lifted part of the bandage.

The skin around the wound was already irritated and angry-looking.

Your heart squeezed.

Not because it was serious, but because he was hurt.

And because he was apparently being an idiot about it and refusing treatment.

"Garrick."

The disappointment in your voice was enough.

His shoulders dropped instantly, like all the fight had suddenly left him.

You gently brushed your fingers through his hair before meeting his eyes.

"Please let them help you."

For a moment, he simply looked at you.

Then he nodded.

"Okay."

The healer froze.

Xaden actually laughed.

An entire hour of arguing, and that was all it took.

You smiled despite yourself, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."

Garrick's expression softened immediately.

For you, he would have sat through almost anything.

The healer quickly moved before he could change his mind, beginning to clean the wound.

To everyone's amazement, Garrick stayed completely still.

No complaints. No arguments. No attempts to escape.

Instead, he simply reached for your hand.

You laced your fingers through his without hesitation and the tension melted from his face almost instantly.

Across the room, Xaden shook his head.

The healers looked equally unimpressed.

But Garrick didn't care that he had clearly been manipulated into sitting still.

Not even slightly, if it meant he got to spend some time with his girl.

His thumb brushed lazily across your knuckles as he looked at you.

Warm. Content. Completely at ease.

Like the injury barely mattered anymore.

After all, his favourite person was here now.

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @starinisstuff @totis-things @spookypersondinosaur @lilah-asteria

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing #garrick tavis x oc #garrick tavis x reader #garrick fourth wing #garrick x reader #garrick tavis

is there a second part of unchosen?? can you please give me the linnk if there is one cause i was searching for it and i couldnt find it

Not yet my sweet, but it is in my drafts and being worked on and will definitely be coming soon! <3

Hey, could you write 9. “Tell me what happened.” with Azriel ? I love your writing!

(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)

Summary: "Tell me what happened."

Authors Note: Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy! What I would give to have a sleepy Azriel in bed next to me...

A soft sound pulled you from sleep.

Your eyes flickered open and you lay very still, assessing your surroundings.

You could still feel the warm body next to you. Azriel was still there in bed, still wrapped in the blankets beside you, but something felt wrong.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint moonlight spilling through the window.

You blinked the sleep from your eyes and listened.

Azriel's breathing was uneven. Too uneven. A quiet sound escaped him. Like someone struggling against something they couldn't escape.

Your heart immediately clenched.

"Az?"

No response.

His shadows were suddenly everywhere. Thrashing across the room. Curling around the bedposts. Sliding frantically over the walls.

You pushed yourself upright. "Azriel."

His face was tense even in sleep. Jaw clenched. Brow furrowed. A light sheen of sweat coating his skin. His hands were fisted so tightly in the sheets you could see the strain in his scarred knuckles.

Another sound escaped him. A strained breath that sounded almost pained.

And suddenly you knew.

It was a nightmare.

Again.

Your chest ached.

Because Azriel rarely spoke about them, but you knew he suffered with them more than he let on.

Sometimes from his childhood. Sometimes from centuries of war. Sometimes from things he'd seen while serving Rhys and his father before him.

You immediately moved closer to him, one hand finding his cheek.

"Azriel."

Nothing.

The shadows lashed harder.

A soft curse slipped from your lips when he didn't react.

You cupped his face with both hands instead, shaking him slightly. "Az."

His entire body jerked. A sharp breath tore from him. Hazel eyes flew open. Wild. Panicked.

For half a second he wasn't here. He wasn't in your bed. He wasn't safe.

You watched him search the darkness instinctively, muscles tensing as though preparing for a fight.

Then his gaze landed on you and everything stopped. The panic. The tension. The frantic shadows.

Gone. Immediately soothed just like that.

Relief crashed across his face so suddenly it almost hurt to see.

"It's okay," you whispered immediately.

His breathing remained uneven.

You could see him struggling to orient himself. Trying to remember where he was.

You reached for him without hesitation. "Come here."

Azriel made a quiet sound that almost resembled protest, but you ignored it completely.

A moment later you were pulling him against you, his body following. His head settled against your chest automatically. Your arms wrapped around him. One hand sliding into his dark hair.

You felt him exhale, long and shakily.

"You're okay," you murmured.

Your fingers continued stroking through his hair. Untangling the knots. Tracing soothing paths along his scalp.

The shadows began settling almost immediately. Azriel closed his eyes. Not asleep. Just exhausted.

You pressed a kiss into his hairline.

Then another.

Until some of the tension finally eased from his shoulders.

"What was it?"

He didn't answer. It wasn't unusual, so you waited.

Your hand never stopped moving through his hair. Back and forth. Slow and steady. The same way he'd comforted you countless times before.

Eventually you felt him swallow.

His voice came out rough.

"Nothing."

You snorted softly.

Azriel shifted slightly against you. He was embarrassed, you could feel it.

"It didn't look like nothing."

Silence.

You let it stretch. Never pushing. Never forcing. Just holding him.

Eventually you rested your cheek against the top of his head when the tension continued to sit through his body.

"Tell me what happened."

The words were soft and gentle. No pressure, just an invitation.

Azriel was quiet for a long moment.

Then another.

Then finally—

"The cell."

Your heart sank.

Of course, the cell.

The place he'd spent his childhood. The place that haunted him more than almost anything else.

You tightened your arms around him instinctively.

You couldn't see his face from where it was buried against your chest, but you could tell his eyes remained fixed on some distant point.

"I was there again."

His voice was flat, detached. The way it always became when discussing those memories.

"The door wouldn't open."

Your throat tightened. Slowly, your fingers brushed through his hair again.

"You were alone?"

A pause, then you felt a small nod.

You closed your eyes briefly. Every instinct in you wanted to march into the past and tear the entire place apart with your bare hands.

Instead you simply held him closer.

Azriel continued quietly.

"I knew it wasn't real."

Another pause.

"But it felt real. It was like I was back there again.”

Your hand slid down to the back of his neck, massaging gently. His shoulders loosened fractionally beneath your touch.

For a while neither of you spoke. The room remained silent except for his gradually slowing breathing.

Eventually he shifted slightly, just enough to look up at you.

Moonlight caught the exhaustion in his eyes. The vulnerability. The remnants of fear he tried so hard to hide from everyone else.

You smiled softly, reaching down to brush a strand of hair from his forehead.

"You're here."

His gaze never left yours as you spoke.

"You aren't there. You aren't alone. You’ll never be alone again.”

A tiny nod. The corner of his mouth twitched in gratitude.

Your thumb brushed lightly across his cheek.

"And if you ever are there again," you whispered, "I'll come get you."

A quiet laugh escaped him, small and sleepy.

"Storm the prison yourself, would you?"

"I'd bring a battering ram."

That earned an actual huff of amusement.

Victory.

You smiled.

Azriel rolled his eyes weakly, but some of the darkness had lifted now. The nightmare no longer holding him quite so tightly.

You nudged Azriel's body with yours, a silent request. Immediately, Azriel moved back to lie down again. Settling against your chest. His head beneath your chin. Your arms wrapped around him.

Safe. Protected. Loved.

Your fingers drifted through his hair once more. Slowly and rhythmically. You felt his breathing even out and the last traces of tension leave his body.

And just before sleep finally reclaimed him, you felt his hand find yours beneath the blankets. As though even half-asleep, he wanted reassurance that you were still there.

You squeezed gently.

And never let go.

Taglist:

@nyxmoretti @itmekelpy @plants-w0rld @nebarious @delulustar @starinisstuff @totis-things @sparkyspiers @booksstarryskies @bxm-2121 @spookypersondinosaur @kuraemiii @karolamurdock @shadowmarurader @acourtofbatboydreams @lilah-asteria

#acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel drabble #azriel x female!reader #acotar azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x oc #azriel x original character

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