#liammairi

(x Ridoc but platonic if you ignore the fact that the author is in love with him.)

Glass (Part 2)

Warnings: Angst, mentions of vomiting, illness

Summary: It's no surprise you're feeling absolutely terrible after that god-awful fight with your boyfriend. But when your health takes a turn for the worse, and you don't have your boyfriend to rely on....

A/N: I KNOW I AM ALARMINGLY OBSESSED WITH LIAM MAIRI, BUT CAN ANYONE BLAME ME FOR BEING HOPELESSLY IN LOVE WITH RIDOC TOO? This is still a Liam fic (and it's probably my favourite I've written so far), and I reallllllyy tried to hide my Ridoc affections, but especially after writing this and using HIS PERSPECTIVE TOO I feel like I may need to divulge into some content with himmmm.

Part 1

It takes an hour of straight crying, studying in a depressive state and not moving from my bed in four hours for me to realize something is actually wrong with me.

I thought it was just the guilt and depression I was feeling because of hurting the man I loved (and how he probably hated me now), that made me feel absolutely sick to my stomach. I figured the pounding and heaviness in my head was thanks to all the crying into my pillow, and the low ache in my stomach was because of the fetal position I had been in for so long.

But the fatigue in my body is not normal. The nausea I'm experiencing is not something fleeting, and the pain in my stomach only seems to spread and become worse the longer I ignore it.

I keep my books aside and look into my bedside drawer for some tablets. Any pain medication would work. But there's absolutely nothing, save a few bandaids and some cough drops. I lean back on my headboard and close my eyes. My head feels heavier than my heart, which is a miracle considering the hatred I harbour for myself right now is monumental.

I hurt Liam. The boy I loved more than anything, would do anything for in a heartbeat. I was the reason for his sorrow.

I would say I deserve how shit I feel right now. But the rational part of my brain forces me to get off my bed and walk around the room in an effort to stretch my muscles and clear the pain engulfing my stomach and pressing on my limbs as exhaustion.

But all the motion succeeds in doing is intensifying the sharp pains radiating through my stomach, and my nausea intensifies.

I quickly get back into bed, lying down and putting my hands over my eyes, letting out a long drawn breath.

I feel like absolute shit right now. Every part of my body feels overwhelmed, and it's not long before silent tears pool in my eyelids, and then slowly drip down the side of my eyes, wetting my pillow.

I deserve this. I deserve every bit of this torment. Maybe it's Loial's way of punishing me for hurting the boy who's given me nothing but love and happiness in my life. The boy who's only ever made me feel special and wanted and loved and cared for. Never failed in comforting me when I was down. Giving me support.

And what did I do in return?

Destroy something that meant so much to him because of my carelessness. Cause I couldn't leave well enough alone. Brought misery and despair into his life when he already had so much on his plate. Been through so much already. And I just became another person in an already long list to give him grief.

I deserve this pain, this sickness, the chills wracking my body save for the unnatural warmth behind my eyes.

A sharp knock on my door resonates through the haze in my head.

"Delivery for Y/N, please," a sing song voice calls out. "A little spaghetti and a blueberry muffin which a hungry delivery guy may or may not have taken a bite out of!"

I don't find it in me to respond to Ridoc's cheerful tone. His words barely register, except the thought of food heightening my nausea.

There's a small pause, before-

"Come on Y/N, I know you're there. I can see the light on."

Hopefully he'll go away when I don't respond. I don't deserve his company, or any happiness, for that matter.

But he doesn't.

"Oh come on Y/N. I know you've had a fight with Mairi, considering he briefly came down to get a single muffin, ignored our questions about you and smouldered back upstairs. But you can't starve yourself now, can you?"

There's a long silence after that. Maybe he's finally gone. But I don't think I could make out his footsteps going away.

As if on cue, there's a muttered curse from outside, before I hear my unlocked door creak open.

"Where's my miserable girl at? Ah there she is. Wallowing in self pity on the bed!"

I hear him stalk over to the bed.

"Come on. Upsy daisy!" He chirps, before his hand tries to pull my arm away from my eyes.

"Don't, Ridoc," I manage to whisper. "Just leave me alone."

"You and I both know I'm doing nothing of the sort. I'm not leaving you here to drown in your tears after whatever you and Mairi have fought about. Get up and have some dinner."

He pulls my arm with more force, and I let out a distressed sound, somewhere bewteen a groan and a whimper.

"I don't feel good Ridoc," I croak out. "Physically. I can't eat."

His hand on my arm stills.

"What's wrong?"

I hear him set aside the plate he was probably holding on my nightstand, before my mattress dips as he takes a seat beside me.

"Y/N?"

"My s-stomach's hurting." I whisper out. "And I'm feeling pukish."

"Have you taken some medicine?" He asks, his tone soft.

I shake my head slightly. "Don't have any," I mumble.

"Y/N, look at me," Ridoc says.

I don’t do anything.

"Y/N," Ridoc says again. He pats my leg. "I'm not going to... do anything. Just look at me."

Maybe it's the softness of his tone, so unlike his usual boister, that makes me hesitate, before I take my hands off my face and look him in the eyes through my lidded gaze.

Ridoc's eyes widen as he takes me in, my bloodshot eyes from all the crying, and the palour on my face from how ill I feel.

"Gods, you really are..." He trails off, getting up from the bed quickly, and moving to my cabinet.

"Are you sure you have no stomach medicines?" He asks, riffling through the contents, before sighing as his question's answered.

He turns back to me, placing a hand on my forehead.

"Shit, you're burning. You're most likely running a temperature."

He pulls out my thermometer from the drawer, shaking it.

"Ridoc, let it be. Don't fret about me."

He eyes the mercury of the thermometer in the light. "Clearly, your fever's making you delirious," is all he says, before turning to me, pulling down my chin with two swift fingers, and shoving it in my mouth, before I can protest.

He paces the room for the next two minutes, muttering about 'some fight I had with Mairi that actually rendered me fucking sick'.

When he finally pulls the thermometer out, he sighs.

"And you were going to wallow in this room with a fucking 102 degree farenheit temperature, in self pity. Gods..."

"Ridoc, seriously, just-"

"Come on Y/N, let's get you to the Healers."

I groan, curling in on myself in my bed. "No, I'm not getting out of my bed. Not at all. I can't."

Ridoc looks ready to argue, but then he seems to think better of it.

"Fine, not the Healers. But I'll get you some medicine from my room. Unlike certain careless people, I actually keep SOS with me." He winks, before leaving my room.

I close my eyes, another wave of pain streaking across my stomach making me wince. I don't deserve Ridoc. At all. I don't deserve any fucking one looking after me after what I did to boy I'm supposed to love and cherish.

Another tear slips out of my eye, just as Ridoc comes back in.

"Okay, so. I have one fever tablet only. So we'll have to make this count." And then he's already rummaging through my bag, looking for my water bottle. "Aaand, let's forget what I said about certain careless people, mm kay?" He places a finger on his lips, winking at me once again. I stare at him, as he plucks my bottle out of my bag, gets the tablet out, and hands them both over to me.

Numbly, I swallow the tablet, taking a tentative sip of the water, since every muscle in my stomach is rebelling at the thought of anything entering it.

My nausea spikes for a moment, before subsiding to its resting state.

"There's a good girl." Ridoc praises me teasingly, as he grabs my study table chair to my bedside, and plopping down on it.

"Let's talk business now hmm? Let's get some food in you, while we have a nice little chat about what's got Mairi in a huff and you in a fever. Although I think your pasta's gone col-"

"Ridoc, I absolutely cannot ingest a single thing right now-" I start to protest hoarsely.

"Oh yes you can, and yes you will. You need to get something in there," he points at my stomach. "Only then can I give you the stomach tablet."

"How about you just leave me alone?"

Ridoc raises an eyebrow. "I'm not interested in finding you dead in here by morning. So that would be a no." He picks up the plate and the fork, and twirls a little bit of spaghetti around it.

"Come on. We'll talk and eat side by side." After a little coaxing, I take the tiniest bite of spaghetti, but instantly feel pukish. I close my eyes tightly.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Ridoc turns my head to face him. "Tell me about the fight. With Liam."

"I- I was jumping on his.... bed... and I fell and knocked over his..." I take a deep breath, trying to quell the nausea. "His dad's glass bear sculpture."

Ridoc feeds me another bite.

"It was...a gift... from him and the only thing Liam had left of him...."

Ridoc's quiet as he feeds me another bite, which I once again try hard to swallow, but my nausea keeps getting stronger.

"I apologized, but he was so upset. He-he didn't seem to care about anything I said... and he implied that I never-" I feel everything I've just eaten rise up to my throat, and I try to finish my sentence, desperately trying to push the food back down. "- never loved him. And that he didn't want to s-see me-".

I can't control my vomit any longer, and cough violently. Before I know it, Ridoc shoves my waste paper basket under my face, and I retch into it.

Ridoc rubs my back soothingly, as I throw out whatever little pasta I had, and some other stuff from previous meals.

"Better now?" Ridoc asks softly once I'm done.

I nod weakly. As he's talking the basket away from me, he frowns and looks into it.

"Uhh what are you doing?" I ask hoarsely.

"Confirming my suspicions," he sighs, before carefully placing the basket back on the ground. "You've puked up the fever tablet too. Maybe I didn’t think this through."

He sits down, this time on my bed next to me, and pulls me closer to his side, kissing the top of my head.

"It's okay Y/N, I'll go ask someone else for another tablet. Hold on."

He gets up, kissing me on the forehead again. "Try to hold on to the puke, yeah. Here-" he drags the waste basket next to my bed. "Use this if you need it. I'll be right back."

He quickly rushes out of my room.

Ridoc's POV

Sawyer would be a safe choice to ask for a tablet. Asking Violet would be stupid, cause she's probably fucking Riorson, and there's no way I'm interrupting them and walking away with my legs intact.

Asking Rhi for the tablet would be logical, cause there would be no way that girl wouldn't have a whole stash of medical emergency items neatly organized in her drawers.

But instead, I find myself going down the hall to the last door. Liam’s.

Would he have pain medication? I have no idea. Would he find out his girlfriend is terribly ill and his concern would override his anger and he would rush to see her and she would feel better instantly because for all I know, her sickeness is a byproduct of grief and guilt?

Yes, yes it would.

Am I a genius?

Yes, yes I am.

I knock sharply on Liam's door.

"Oy, Mairi! Open up!"

"I'm not in the mood, Ridoc," Liam's muffled voice calls from the other side.

"I need a favour man, then I won't bother you."

There's a small pause, before I hear the creek of a bed, and dragging footsteps, and the door opens, revealing a disheveled Liam Mairi.

His hair tousled and sticking up randomly, as if he's run his hands through them many times, his clear blue eyes bloodshot, clothes rumpled, and a bone-deep exhaustion etched in his face.

"What is it?"

"I need a fever tablet."

"Don't you have your own?"

"Nope."

He shakes his head, disappearing into his room. I follow him in, his room spotless, except for glistening shards of glass on his nightstand.

He begins to rummage through his drawers.

"I have this strip. It's a strong one though. Take it if you want."

"Yeah, stronger the better, given the severity of the fever. Thanks Mairi."

Liam looks me up and down.

"You don't look ill."

"Cause I'm not ill."

"Then why do you need this?"

"Y/N."

Liam's previously dead expression changes in a flash. His eyebrows rise so high I'm suprised they don't disapppear into his hair. His eyes instantly look alert.

"Why?" He breathes.

"She's got a terrible stomach ache, high fever, and vomited up her food including the fever tablet I gave her."

Liam blinks.

Before I can say another word, he pushes past me and out of his doorway, taking off down the hall.

I quickly follow him, trying to hide my grin.

"Why the HELL didn't you tell me my girlfriend was ill?" Liam growls, never slowing down.

"I just did, didn't I?" I call out behind him as he practically barges into Y/N's room. I enter after him, as he stands transfixed to the spot, staring at her weak body curled up on the bed. She seems to have fallen asleep.

"Y/N," Liam whispers. "Gods, love...." And then he's rushing over to the bed, falling to his knees by her side.

Y/N stirs, and her eyes open partially. The moment she catches sight of Liam, she inhales sharply.

"Oh, Liam.... sweetheart...."

Liam touches her cheek, cupping it in his hand. "For Amari's sake, you're burning up."

Y/N's eyes cloud with tears. "Liam, I'm sorry for your bear-" she starts, but Liam presses a finger to her lips.

"Don't, don't apologize, darling. You've done enough of that."

A tear slips down her cheek, which Liam promptly wipes away. "I feel so guilty, Liam. I broke something that mattered so much to you. I was the reason for your misery. You have every right to hate me."

"That's a lie, Y/N. I could never ever hate you. I love you more than you could ever know. I didn’t mean what I said back then. Yes, I was upset, but blaming you was absolutely uncalled for and you didn't deserve any of it."

"Of course I did-"

"No, absolutely not. You didn't do it on purpose. All you've ever done is make me happy, Y/N. You've only ever brought light into my world, made me feel loved and cherished. I never once doubted your love for me, my sweetheart. I've been beating myself up ever since then for even implying that there wasn't love between us."

"No no please, you were upset. I don't mind a single bit, Liam. I love you, so so much."

Liam presses a lingering kiss to her forehead.

"I love you too, Y/N."

First is Dain x Liam. I got this after reading Sneakywriter25's Reading Fourth Wing fix on ao3. It was implied as a joke, a misunderstanding after Violet mentioned Dain and a Mairi, and it made me think... I mean people ship Dain x Sloane, especially after the "eyes on me" moment and like the tension. Also Liam and Dain are sort two sides of the same coin. Both are loyal, disciplined, and protective of their loved ones. Say what you will, Dain is a jerk in the first book, but he is a protective one. Lian follows his feelings because he is loyal while Dain follows the rules because he thinks it keeps everyone safe. I believe it is an interesting What If moment. But I think their story would be very angsty. Reminds me of a BL version of those cliche wattpad stories of nerd/rule follower x golden boy or something. The core conflict of this ship would probably be the same as any Dain ship is choosing a person over the system.

The second ship is Liam x Aaric. It popped in my head after seeing fanfics mentioning Aaric x Sloane. Both are characterized by their quiet, observant strength. Liam is known for his warmth and charm while Aaric is more strategic and dry-witted. Also their mbtis are complimentary to each other: Liam (ENFJ) x Aaric (INTJ). Liam is naturally empathetic and focused on group harmony, the designated mediator between Riorgail in fanfics. Aaric is a strategic visionary who keeps to himself. Their mbtis share a visionary trait with Liam providing warmth and emotional support that an INTJ often struggles to express while Aaric offers intellectual depth and decisive planning that an ENFJ admires. Also their signets are farsight and precognition or also known as foresight. They could also have late night talks about changing the world. The heart and the brains, but not as toxic compared to Liam x Dain. Also I think it will be a funny scene about Liam having Xaden as a found family and loves his brother and then there is Aaric who does not like Alic or Hayden but still feels for his brother. Just an interesting thought about how that conversation would go. Also would make a cute Knight x Royalty or some sort of Bodyguard AU.

The third ship is Dain x Bodhi. I searched the tag on ao3, and there are a few fics, and they are cute. Fits an enemies-to-lovers trope. Both live in the shadows of their family members. Also it's cute that their signet compliments? each other like Dain seeing memories and Bodhi can just negate it. I think it would be cute. Also I would like to see how Xaden would react to this, would he go overprotective cousin mode?

Fourth ship is Xaden x Garrick. Best bromance and crackship. This is just me trying to search more fics where Xaden has a platonic soulmate that he is codependent in. I really love Makayla_Burden24's series I Didn't Want to be a Weapon (I Sharpened My Edges Anyways) on ao3, it's not a Xaden x Garrick fic but it does have a male oc which is like the platonic soulmate of Xaden and they really act like an old married couple, though spoiler most of the time divorced couple energy. I really hope they make up soon. But anyways, yeah, Garrick's honey bear.

Here are also a few I saw but I have little to no thoughts yet, maybe after a few fics.

Dain x Cat. Halden x Cat is more entertaining.

Aaric x Cat. It's probably the same as Halden c Cat but like a better deal for Cat since Aaric is not an asshole.

Ridoc x Aaric. This one is funny. Jester x Prince vibes.

Andarna x Aotrom. I see it but at the same time...

Andarna x Molvic. Same thoughts as the one above...

Attention

Summary: When your boyfriend seems too busy looking after another girl, your bitterness seems to have a mind and a plan of its own. But will it backfire?

Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood, angst

A/N: This has to be my favourite story so far, and it's pretty long too! It's heavily inspired by the amazing Tight Black Leathers, written by the talented @scorpioriesling, who's fanfics are what inspired me to write my own. Go check out her work!

I watch as Liam gracefully climbs down Deigh's leg, the muscles in his arms rippling as he lands firmly on the ground.

You aren't going to go to loverboy? My dragon, Stratia asks, as I stay motionless atop her, observing Liam.

"No I want to see what he does."

Liam pats Deigh's foreleg and they appear to exchange a few words. He turns...

My eyes narrow....

.... And heads off in Tairn's direction, to where Violet has just slid down his foreleg.

I release a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. Why did I think he would come towards me?

Who am I anyway?

Not like I'm his girlfriend, who he used to walk back with after Flight Field, and pretty much everywhere else, up until exactly 20 days ago, when Liam's 'brother', the almighty indispensable Xaden Riorson decided that a 21 year old grown woman, Violet Sorrengail, who has bonded the most powerful dragon of our year, needed 24/7 protection by a boy who had a girlfriend.

Give me the clearance and I'll char him. Never liked him anyway, Stratia grumbles in my head.

"Stratia."

Don't tell me you still love that cheating bastard. He's been practically ignoring you for days now.

"He hasn't cheated on me!"

How do you know that? Not like he's been around you at all. Or even bothered to come find you. Even after you've been giving him weird looks.

"I-..... He's not cheating on me Stratia, he would never.. he's not like that..."

But she isn't wrong either, I think, as I climb down her foreleg, and walk back alone to my room. Since Liam's been assigned as Violet’s bodyguard, he's been following her around all the time. Violet and my timetable is slightly different, and Liam's was changed so he could be with her in every class. Liam no longer has time to spar with me because he trains with Violet now, and I can't do that time because it is my reserved spot in the Scribe Quadrant Library to study History. Liam and I always used to spend the night in each other's rooms. In the past 20 days, for atleast half of those nights, I've waited for him to return to his room, but fallen asleep by the time he would return. And the other nights when I expected him to come to mine, he never showed up, except maybe once or twice. The only time we see each other is during our Squad's common classes.

And initially, it was just mutual pining on both our sides. We used to kiss each other extra hard when we were around each other. I'd playfully mention how I 'didn't get my full body massage the night before', or how my neck seemed 'too spotless' lately. But it gradually became serious. The distance was genuinely depressing. And I missed my boyfriend. Missed his casual touches, our constant whispering and talking and flirting, his playful kisses for seemingly no reason, his deep, confident voice telling me how gorgeous I was, his beautiful blue eyes looking at me even when he thought I wasn't aware, his dimples and that arrogant smirk....

I barely realize when I reach my room. I yank my door open, and slam it shut.

This is ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. I love Liam, and I know he loves me, even though he hasn't been around to say it as much.

I yank my closet door open, shoving aside my spare uniform unnecessarily aggressively, as I sift through the clothes at the back for some traning wear to change into.

It was absolutely demeaning, shameful and downright disrespectful for Xaden to assign Liam, of all the people, in this bloody place, as Violet’s bodyguard. How would he feel if Violet was suddenly asked to shadow Dain all the time?

I growl in frustration when I can't find the tank top I'm looking for. I chuck aside more clothes, carelessly tossing things around.

And Liam! That useless toerag! Doesn't he have a goddamn mouth? Is he not noticing that he hasn't so much as slept beside his girlfriend more than once or twice in almost a month? Or does he not care at all?

I pull back from my futile search, and kick my closet door. I barely feel a sting in my foot, but a little bit of my anger seems to drain out.

I can't seem to find my bloody training wear. But I have to be down for sparring class with Professor Emetterio in a short whle.

My eyes fall upon my sports bra, hanging from a hook on the closet door. Sighing, I pull it off and quickly change into it.

This will have to do for today, I guess. I move over to my tiny vanity mirror to see if it is decent enough.

Nothing overly revealing, but it does give my chest a good shape, the dip just low enough to..... tease.

Hmmm.

I tie my hair back into a tight ponytail, and double knot to make sure it stays. I don't normally make such tight styles, but I can't deny that it looks, striking? It makes my cheekbones much more defined, my eyes more intense.

As if acting on some strange feeling I don't yet want to fully acknowledge, I take out my kohl from the drawer and very lightly line the underside of my eyes, just a smudge, to pronounce them.

I walk over to my closet once more, and this time, pick out the tiniest cycling shorts I own- ones I rarely wear now that I have more muscle from months of rigorous training- and change into them.

Looking into the mirror makes me smile. I've always liked the way I looked, but this look makes me exceptionally pleased.

It's not unnatural to want to feel wanted, is it? To feel appreciated, admired. Especially when I have done nothing wrong. Nothing to deserve this second rate treatment from my own boyfriend.

I don't give a second thought to my new look. I walk out of my room and slam the door shut behind me. The training room is almost directly underneath my room, so I don't encounter a lot of people till I enter.

I ignore the momentary hush that falls over the cadets in the immediate vicinity of the door. I ignore the dropped jaws of the guys from Second Wing, not even trying to hide their staring. I ignore Caroline Ashton's glare as I walk past her.

I ignore it all, till I spot Sawyer and Ridoc leaning against a bench, talking. And a few metres to their right, Violet and Liam, laughing together.

Even then, I ignore the little jump my heart gives when I see his silhouette, with his back to me as he and Violet stand together.

He doesn't notice me, and I pretend to not have noticed him either, walking swiftly towards Ridoc and Sawyer.

Sawyer notices me first, his eyebrows raising as he fully takes me in. I wave at him, and Ridoc turns to look at me as he catches Sawyer's line of sight. There’s a pause, while his eyes widen. He stares at me for a moment, before a grin breaks over his face, and he lets out a low whistle.

"Damn, Y/L/N," he drawls, as I reach his side. "New look? Or new strategy to win your fight?"

"Neither of the above. I think my regular training wear is still in the wash. So I wore what was available", I shrug.

"Right. Available. Surrre" Ridoc scoffs.

I roll my eyes.

"No seriously though. Who are you trying to torture?"

"I'm not trying to torture anyone. This is literally all I had to wear for training."

"And the kohl just magically flew to your eyes right?"

"It looked nice."

"Right. Well, if it's Mairi you're trying to seduce, then I think it's working."

"More than working," Sawyer coughs.

"His eyes are practically tearing the bra off your body." Ridoc remarks.

I can't help the blush that creeps up my cheeks, but I roll my eyes.

"I hardly think he would even care."

Ridoc lets out a choked sound.

"Care? Y/N, are you-"

"Liam no longer seems to care about what I do or don't do now." I can't keep the bitterness out of my tone. "A little outfit can't do what I couldn't in weeks."

Ridoc frowns at the genuine emotion in my voice, his smirk faltering. Even Sawyer seems to note something is wrong. But then he seems to notice something behind me.

"Uhh Y/N, he's coming over here right now."

Shit. I don't want to face him right now. I can't. I'm about to turn around and walk off, when-

"Y/N, Thomas Girardi, to the third mat!" Emetterio's booming voice calls out.

I've never been this relieved at a match announcement before. I practically skip over to the mat, shaking hands with Thomas, who's a bulky First Year from Third Wing. Even he seems a little distracted, to say the least, as his eyes, as if betraying his better judgment, trail down my body, before he blushes and steps back. Sawyer is not called to the mat today, because he stays back to watch my fight, giving me an encouraging smile. Just as I smile back, I see a familiar blonde head saunter over and stand next him.

Apparently, Liam wasn't called either. I quickly focus back on Thomas, forcing back the stupid grin that threatened to split my face.

When the match begins, I'm even more determined to win this fight than I normally am. Liam actually coming over to watch ME fight, when I'm pretty sure Violet's sparring too, is hella surprising. Did my ridiculous outfit plan, borne out of pure bitterness and rage, actually work? Was Liam that affected by the sight of a little skin? While that is a little flattering, it's also.... underwhelming? Is physical aspect the only thing that could make him give me a little more attention? I push the thoughts out of my head. Atleast right now, it didn't matter why Liam was here. He was watching regardless. I couldn't lose this match.

Thomas is a good fighter, and more than a few times, he flips me over, and attempts to hold me down, but I'm a master of using my body to my advantage, and each time, I wriggle out of his hold.

"Nice slide, Y/N!" Sawyer calls out, as I slip past Thomas's bruising hold.

My eyes glint as we continue sparring, sweat pooling down my forehead.

Thomas lunges at me once more, but I tuck under his arm, kick his back, hard. He stumbles forward, but quickly regains consciousness. However, I'm ready for him. I ram into him, using his momentum against him, and punch his stomach, making him gasp and double over. In the second he doubles over, I spare a glance to the side, pride coursing through my veins.

But all warmth vanishes from me in a second.

Sawyer stands alone. Liam is gone from his side. And I don't need to look far to spot him. A few feet behind Sawyer, he stands next to Violet, who appears to have just finished her match. They're conversing in low tones, Liam’s hand on her shoulder-

The wind is knocked out of me as I slam back to the ground. And then Thomas is on top of me. I barely gasp, before he punches my cheek. My head flies to the left, and a sharp pain resonates through my face. A warmth trickles down my cheek, slipping down my nose, and to the mat below, glistening a vibrant red.

My head snaps to the other side, as he lands another swift blow. And another. And another.

The blooming pain makes me snap out of whatever pitiful stupor I was momentarily in, and slam my knee straight up into his exposed groin.

Thomas screams, and I take the chance, throwing my body up, flipping him around. I whip out a knife and hold it to his throat.

He yields before I even voice the command myself.

I quickly get off of him, dropping to my knees next to him.

"Are you alright?"

Thomas's eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth contorted in pain, as he curls his legs inward, his arms around them in a crushing grip.

"I'm-sigh- fine" he breathes out.

I offer him a hand, which he takes without much hesitation, helping him get to his feet. He looks at my face, and winces.

"Sorry for... those."

I smile, even though it hurts to do so. And not just physically.

"We're even, aren't we?"

Thomas shakes my hand, and I step off the mat.

Sawyer is immediately by my side.

"Gods Y/N, your cheeks-" he starts.

"I'm fine, Sawyer, let it go." I say, even though I can feel another drop of blood drip from my cheek to the floor.

My face throbs painfully, an irony, considering how numb I was feeling inside. I begin to shuffle painfully to the door.

"What happened, Y/N? Why did you zone out during the match? You had him in the palm of your hand, but your hesitation-"

"Sawyer," I stop in my pursuit, and turn to face him. "Let. It. G-"

"What in Malek's name happened to you?" A booming voice sounds, followed by quick heavy footsteps quickly making there way to me.

Not this fucker.

"Y/N, love, what bloody happened?" Liam's exclaims as he reaches my side. Violet’s there too in a second, both of them openly staring at my face as if I've grown horns.

I shake my head, and start to walk again.

"Darling-"

I flip around.

"DON'T CALL ME THAT," I snap. Liam’s eyes widen. "YOU WOULD KNOW WHAT HAPPENED IF YOU EVEN BOTHERED TO WATCH, YOU POOR EXCUSE OF A BOYFRIEND. STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!"

I don't bother waiting for a reply, before running out of the training room, bitter tears welling up in my eyes and rolling freely down my face, all the way to my room.

I slam the door shut behind me, and lean back against it.

My eyes screw shut, and my lip wobbles, before a sob finally breaks loose.

Tears or blood or sweat, I don't know at this point, flow like water down my face, and to the floor. My knees follow the same path.

I've barely been in my room for a minute, when an incessant pounding begins on the door, sending jolting vibrations through my body as I leaned against it.

"Y/N! Open the door! Please! What's wrong?" Liam's voice, loud and frantic, mixed with a hint of confusion, and what is unmistakably hurt.

"GET LOST," I scream, my voice cracking with sobs.

"Absolutely not! Let me in, Y/N! Wha- What happened?"

"Just. Go. AWAY!"

There's a long pause, and I wait with bated breath to see if his footsteps move away from the door.

But then Liam speaks again, softer this time, the pain his tone blatantly evident.

"Please, sweetheart. Just let me in. You can yell at me, scream, fight, punch me, kick me, do whatever. Just let me in. Don't shut me out like this."

And in my head, I picture him so clearly. His blonde hair, adorably tousled, strong arms around my waist, holding me close. His blue depths, normally full of life and love when looking at me, filled with hurt and confusion. Does he really not know why I'm so upset?

I tell myself it's my anger at his ignorance about what he's done wrong, that makes me get up and open the door.

Even though I'm glaring at him so fiercely I would expect him to recoil, Liam seems more concerned by the condition of my cheeks right now.

"Oh gods," he murmurs, before abruptly stepping into the room, making me step back in surprise. I only watch as he takes out the medical kit I keep in my drawer, before turning back to me, grabbing my hand, and ushering me to sit on the edge of my bed.

"I can do it myself," I whisper hoarsely, not meeting his gaze.

"Nonsense," he says, getting onto his knees in front of me so he's level with my face.

He doesn’t waste a second, only a quick warning about how it might sting, before one of his hands tilts my head the side, and the other gently brings some cotton dipped in antiseptic to a probable cut on my cheek.

I can't hold in my gasp as searing pains tears my face. Liam’s hand that's propping my chin up squeezes me comfortingly, but he remains firm with his swipes.

He cleans both sides of my face, the wounds as well as the blood, before bringing out some gauze.

"I can do it myself," I repeat, my voice no longer as weak.

"You're not dressing your owns wounds when I'm around, my love."

My anger, which had dissipated a little because of the all consuming pain (and the close proximity to him), flares up once again at his words.

"Oh, now you're boyfriend of the year, are you? Taking care of your so called girlfriend, when you're the reason she's hurt, when you can't even bother to watch the full fight!"

My voice rises in volume with each word, but to Liam's credit, he barely flinches.

"I- That's what you're upset about? I didn't watch the whole fight? Y/N-"

"It's not just that you-" I pick up a pillow from my bed and chuck it at him- "Insufferable duffer!"

"You're never around anymore! Not in the mornings, not during classes except for the ones I have with Violet, not during traning, not while studying, not while walking in the hallways, not at night! I barely see you anymore. I've been trying to respect that fact that Xaden gave you this duty, and he has... done a lot for you, but this is borderline ridiculous! I need you too. What's the point of being in a relationship when we aren't there for each other at all?"

Liam's expression, initially just filled with shock and lingering confusion, becomes more and troubled as I keep speaking, even seeming resigned to an extent, as if he feared this would happen. He look at the ground, pursing his lips. There's a long pregnant pause in the wake of my outburst, before he lets out a weary sigh.

"Y/N, I-" he begins, before pausing again. He's trying to choose his words very carefully. "My sweet girl, I get what you mean. I completely understand." He finally looks up at me. His eyes glisten, not with tears, but with the weight of unspoken words, words which he wants to say, but has difficulty voicing. Conflicting emotions, and a deep guilt in those beautiful blue eyes.

Without leaving his gaze, I feel him gently take my hand in his, fingers intertwining with mine. I can't bring myself to pull away.

"It's not that I don't want to be with you, sweetheart. Trust me, I wake up with your name on my lips, and go to bed with your beautiful face haunting my thoughts."

"But you don't act like it, Liam," I murmur softly. "You don't act like you care. I don't see any inclination on your part to spend more time with me, or you even being sorry that you're not with me. It's like it doesn't matter to you."

Liam's brow furrows, not with anger, but with sadness. Desperation. I supress the urge to smooth out the lines. Even amidst my anger and disappointment, any negative expression on his face makes my insides clench. It hurts me to see him hurt.

He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but thinks better of it. I see his expression change, from desperation and resignation, to a more steely gaze, more... determined.

"Y/N, my gorgeous girlfriend, that's not true."

His other hand, the one not laced with mine, encircles my waist, pulling me closer. He's still on his knees, and the pull makes us come almost face to face.

"It’s not possible that I'd ever be content with not spending every waking moment by the side of the person I love more than anyone else in this world." His palm rubs circles on my bare back. "The person who's my whole world, my everything, the reason for my laughter, my joy-" his hand that was previously holding mine ventures over to my thigh-"the beating of my heart, my reason for living."

He leans in, pressing a feather light kiss to the corner of my eye.

Barely there, but promising so much.

The simmering anger in me starts to race through my veins again, but it's not exactly... anger anymore.

Liam trails further kisses down my face, careful to avoid my wounds. Both his hands venture over to my thighs, carressing, squeezing.

Gently probing them apart.

His lips trail to my neck, where the feather light touches tranform into open mouthed kisses. Despite myself, my eyes fall shut, and I tilt my head to the side, allowing Liam better access to my skin, as he kisses, sucks, marks away.

His hands continue massaging my thighs, venturing higher and higher, till they rest on the waistband of my shorts.

"I know I haven't been around much, Y/N," Liam murmurs against my skin. He trails lower, down to the valley of my breasts. He punctuates his words by a delicate bite on the skin pushed up by the bra, and I can't help the whimper that escapes my lips.

Liam pulls back from my breasts, and I open my eyes to look at him. His eyes burn like blue fire, a silent promise swirling amidst the ever spreading black of his pupils in the wake of his desire. The familiar look in his eyes, when desire threatens to overtake everything else.

"But I'm here now."

He bends, lower and lower, till he now kneels comfortably beneath me, between the circle of my thighs.

His hands tug at the waistband of my shorts. I barely notice when I'm rising on my hands, allowing him to tug them down my thighs.

Slowly, tantalizingly.

"Liam..." I moan, unable to take it anymore.

"Let me take care of you, love."

He throws my shorts to a corner of the room, leaving me in just my underwear.

Oh gods. Liam smiles, a devlishly handsome smile, that sends a jolt of desire straight to my core.

"Already soaked for me, darling?"

Liam's long, nimble fingers hook around the edge of the lace and with a swift tug, rips them off, chucking them far behind him.

He throws my left leg over his shoulder, and leans in, pressing a tentative kiss to the inside of my thigh. The action sends sparks of pure pleasure shooting through my body, and I gasp.

I can't take it anymore.

"Liam-"

"Don't worry baby, I've got you."

He licks up my slit, in one swift motion, and I gasp once more. I throw my head back when he does it again. But it's the soft kiss he presses on my clit that sends me over the edge, and I let out a loud moan. He sighs in contentment at the sound, and the breath aggravates the maddening sensations in me even more.

"There you go, love," he murmurs. He runs his tongue in circles, tasting, teasing, making me whimper and moan his name desperately.

"Oh gods, Liam-"

I feel his hands brush over me, fingers no doubt feeling and smearing the fluids dripping out of me.

His long, calloused middle finger sinks into me with ease... and I'm a goner.

His free hand finds mine once more and his finger intertwine with mine, physically, emotionally, in every way possible. I squeeze his fingers bruisingly, my breath ragged, my moans free, my body tense and desperate and impatient, wriggling on the bed.

His finger pumps in and out of me, agonizing in its savouring pace. Not nearly fast enough, not nearly enough to quell the burgeoning ache in me. White hot pleasure pools low in belly, and it's as if it's that pleasure that courses through my veins instead of blood, as if that's what my heart is pumping rapidly through my body, all the way to my curling toes.

"My pretty girl," Liam smirks against me, the vibarations in my already stimulated heat making me let out a particularly desperate cry. I feel a faint blush colouring my cheeks, even though it's probably the thousandth time Liam has called me his pretty girl as he ate me out. But the words never fail to make me feel special, lose myself in the pleasure of it all even more.

"Such pretty sounds from a pretty girl."

He inserts a second finger, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out that desperately again, cause I no longer have any control over my vocal cords anymore.

"No, don't hold back, love," Liam murmurs, as if sensing my restraint. His teeth tug at my swollen bud, and this time, I can't suppress the desperate scream that rages through me.

"That's it," he praises. "I want to hear exactly what I'm doing to you, exactly how much pleasure I'm making you feel, my love."

His tongue sucks my clit, the pressure clearly no longer teasing, but purposeful. The unhurried, thorough thrusts with his fingers now faster, rougher. He curls his fingers in me, hitting that spot, again and again, till my nails dig into Liam's hand intertwined with mine, my other tangled in his blonde curls, twisting and pulling at his hair. I writhe, moaning and whimpering desperately, pleasure raging through me....

The familiar pressure in my belly builds, heavy, insistent and inevitable, consuming every thougt that isn't his name, his relentless nimble fingers, his unforgiving tongue, and his teeth nipping at me....

Oh gods.

"That's it, darling," he breathes. "Come for me, my love."

His words send me over the edge, and I shatter, coming apart on his lips and fingers with a scream. He doesn’t falter in his ministrations, if anything, his mouth becomes even more thorough as he eats me out, lapping up every last drop till I'm whimpering and pulling at his hair, begging him to stop.

Finally satisfied, Liam straightens up. I lean back on the bed, using my hands to keep me upright, but barely.

My lidded gaze meets Liam's vibrant, intense blue, his eyes alive and lit with satisfaction, and he keeps it locked with mine as he slowly brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

His lips stretch into a lazy, satiated smirk, still glistening with my release.

Even though I'm still weak and trembling, I can't resist leaning forward, and kissing him straight on the mouth. Liam immediately pulls me closer, and I savour the sweet taste of his lips in the aftermath of the warm pleasure still running through me.

We break apart, but only for a moment, as Liam settles against the headboard of my bed, before lifting me up with ease and settling me onto his lap. I'm still trembling slightly, my legs mush, and I melt in his arms. I sigh, a tiny smile on my face as I rest my head on his chest, just under his chin. He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, and doesn't pull back.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispers throatily against my forehead. "So much. More than you'll ever know, darling. I'll-I'll talk to Xaden about shadowing Violet. I know I should have done it long ago, but I didn't want Xaden to think I wasn't interested in helping him. But it wasn't fair to you. And I'm so sorry for that, for neglecting you and making you think that you don't matter to me, which is the furthest thing from the truth. It kills me knowing I was the reason for your sadness, your tears. I'm so so sorry, my love."

His words fill me with warmth, the lingering traces of disappointment and resentment vanishing, leaving behind nothing but overwhelming love for this wonderful man, who is everything to me.

"It's fine, Liam," I whisper to him. I press a tiny kiss to his neck, the only part of him within reach of my lips. "I could never stay mad at you. I love you, so so much."

Perfection

Happy Kinktober everyone!!!!! This is sort of headcannon-y though not quite, and I technically wrote it for Day 17- Service Kink, but I'm too impatient hehe. (Special thanks to @embersofonyx for helping my oblivious self with this <3)

Warnings: Tooth rottingly fluffy smut, no mentions of y/n

You could never understand how you'd gotten so lucky.

How a boy this goddamned intelligent, this handsome, this strong, this funny, this confident, this obsessed with you, could actually be yours.

There wasn't a single flaw you could find in Liam. Before you'd started dating, you'd thought perfection was relative, not attainable in practicality, that everyone had to have some flaw here or there.

That was until you met Liam, and now you realize you were wrong. Perfection is more than possible.

Perfection is the man slamming you against the wall of his room everyday after classes, moaning into your mouth about how much he had missed having you in his arms all day.

Perfection is the man with his hand on your thigh under the table at dinner, fingers dancing on your sensitive skin, trailing higher and higher till your breath catches in your throat and you have to glare at him to stop, only to find him smirking, no intention of listening to your silent protests.

Perfection is the man who helps you train every evening without fail, no matter how tired he is or how much you tell him he should rest, his only intention being to perfect your skills so you could defend yourself against any danger.

Perfection is the man staying up late with you to study, making the most difficult of things easy, the most boring of topics fun with his incessant flirting and sexual innuendos.

Perfection is the man with a constant protective hand at your back whenever you're in public, always needing to be touching you, feeling you, as if to convince himself you're there.

Perfection is the man who can't keep his hands off of you, from touching your soft, bare skin, or your curves beneath your uniform. Who pulls you onto his lap whenever he can, be it relaxing with your squad or sitting together in your room, wherever. Your chest perpetually pressed against the hard muscles of his chest, his chin resting on your head.

Perfection is the man pressing a soft, tender kiss to your forehead every few minutes for no apparent reason, except that he can't help it; he loves the feel of your soft skin beneath his lips, it and he can't get enough of you. Especially when you're sitting on his lap, or even when you're just standing beside him.

Perfection is the man who loves burying his face in your hair, the scent of your shampoo doing things to him he can't even begin to acknowledge.

Perfection is the man who can't stop carving little wooden things for you. Who had to build a whole new shelf for you just so you had enough space to arrange all of them in your room. Your dragon was just one of dozens of little things: your favourite flowers, hearts, teddy bears, everything, leaving little wood shavings behind wherever he goes because he's always whittling a little gift for you. He can't get enough of the look in your eyes, how they shine with love and awe whenever he presents something new to you.

Perfection is the man leaving little love letters for you to find during your day, ranging from carefully written romantic, swoon worthy verses from your favourite literature, like:

"Every heart has its own melody, only you know mine," and "My love, if my heart were a physical thing, you would hold it captive within your hand, beating only at your command..."

to hasty, impatient, practically flaming notes:

"You have no godamned idea how ravishing you look in that tight little ponytail. I'm all but a look away from dragging you into the nearest room to fuck the daylights out of you."

Sending a rush of desire straight to your core, a furious blush heating your cheeks.

Perfection is the man who can't bear to see you cry. The sight of your glassy, red eyes, tears dripping down your cheeks, fills him with such unbearable agony, an overwhelming need to take your pain burning in him. He would gently wipe your tears with his thumbs and press a feather light kiss to your warm forehead, whispering words of love and consolation till your eyes are swimming with tears once more, but the most beautiful smile in the world forming on your lips.

Perfection is the man who's more concerned about you than he could ever be about himself or anything else. Who's always making sure you eat enough at meals and drink enough water because he knows you have a tendency to neglect these things when you've got a lot on your plate, which is basically everyday.

Perfection is the man who's always trying to alleviate your exhaustion even when he is incredibly tired himself. Who dims the lights and gets you seated between his legs before massaging your neck and shoulders. Fingers digging into the skin, kneading out the knots till you're moaning softly, pliant in his arms. He kisses your neck then, his arms snaking around you waist to pull you to him, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.

Perfection is the man who's is turned on most by pleasuring you. Who lives to make you gasp and moan and writhe in pleasure as he buries his head between your legs and works magic with his tongue and teeth. Finding his home nestled in your thighs, feeling he can breathe properly only when his nose is brushing against your clit, tongue deep inside your pulsing walls. Always making sure his pillow princess is comfortable and warm in the bed before beginning his work.

Perfection is this man who refuses to let you touch him or even touch himself, no matter how unbearably hard and painful it is, till he's sure he has satisfied you thoroughly with his mouth and fingers, till you're feeling relaxed and calm, the stress wrung out of you like a sponge.

Perfection is the man who can never deny you anything you want, who never wants to hear his girl beg him for anything, ever. Your pleasure mattering more to him than any of his own needs.

Perfection is the man who holds your trembling body close to his chest in the sudden, yet comfortable silence, whispering soft little "I got you, you're safe with me, my love, my sweetheart," till your breathing evens out. Gently cleaning you up with a moist cloth before braiding your hair carefully and helping you into your pyjamas. Settling you on his chest, the blanket tucked to your chin, kissing your forehead. Inhaling your sweet scent.

Perfection is the man who won't sleep till he knows you have, your soft breathing and steady heartbeat his lullaby. And yet, he always wakes up before you, smothering you in kisses before getting up to make your favourite tea. That, or you wake up with his mouth between your legs. Either way, he always makes sure you start the day peacefully, feeling loved and taken care of.

Perfection is the man who loves you with everything in him, who vows to himself he'll never let you feel an ounce of pain ever again, always having a warm, safe, comfortable place to make your home.