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nuzipilled · 9 months ago

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THE GANGS ALL HERE 🗣️🔥‼️ information below the cut, “B” cast ( Doll, Lizzy, Thad) have not been included yet as they dont have a role in the main story yet. feel free to ask any questions, me and @kylelily123abc4 will do our best to answer them (:

UZI

Uzi is a 21 year old woman with an undergraduate in medical engineering, which she was coaxed into by her parents (Namely Khan). She is incredibly adept and smart and prefers the technicalities of weapons engineering, and majors in art on the side. She would like to do it full time, however her parents insist it’s not a “real job.” She volunteers at the local hospital N, V and J are relocated to from overseas so they can continue inpatient care until they are stable enough to be discharged and resume physio / psychotherapy as outpatients. She meets N during his time there and immediately clicks with him, and eventually begins to visit him on her off hours, and continues to visit him even after her contract ends. They end up establishing a relationship together and, after finding it is much less expensive commuting to school, moves in with N, V, J, Cyn and Tessa in their apartment for the semester.

She spent most of her childhood moving around and being bullied—the most significant moment having been when her first kiss was stolen by someone who only dated her because he was dared to.

Uzi is a big fan of all things anime, edgy humor, hot topic, and nightcore. she’s got the soul of an unabashed 2000s emo girl stuck in the modern day.

Private first class Nate (all his friends call him N) Is a 23 year old man who was fostered from a family in Utah alongside his sister Cyn under Tessa, another childhood friend, and the Elliot family in Melbourne Australia from the ages of 8-18. When of applicable age, he went back to the United States to enlist in the marines and live with Cyn, a former child prodigy who was scouted and given multiple scholarships due to record breaking academics and reflexes on simulator games.

He was severely traumatized during his first deployment overseas along with his other childhood friends, V, and J, after their humvee hit an IED during a routine supply run. All three were critically injured and the sole survivors of their team of 6. He, along with J and V spent a total of 12 hours alone in the desert before they were airlifted to an emergency hospital in germany, then, once stabilized, returned to the states to resume inpatient care in Salem, Oregon.

Despite his honorable discharge and severe ptsd diagnosis, N does his best to remain upbeat and positive, almost to a fault, oftentimes repressing “bad” thoughts or feelings.

He ends up meeting Uzi in the hospital and they form a relationship together, her eventually moving in and living with V, J, Him, Tessa, and Cyn in their flat after they’re discharged from the hospital.

Sergeant Jane (Only preferring J when around close friends) is a 26 year old trans woman who was fostered from an immigrant afghan family under Tessa, another childhood friend, and the Elliot family in Melbourne Australia from the ages of 4-18, having realized she was a woman very early in life. She began socially transitioning at 12, and began HRT as soon as she aged out of the system. She was the first to be involved with the Elliots and was pushed to enlist in the australian military, quickly moving up the ranks to sergeant and was eventually posted in the united states to assist in training other cadets. She was severely traumatized during her second deployment overseas along with her other childhood friends, V, and N after their humvee hit an IED during a routine supply run. All three were critically injured and the sole survivors of their team of 6. she, along with J and V spent a total of 12 hours alone in the desert before they were airlifted to an emergency hospital in germany, then, once stabilized, returned to the states to resume inpatient care in Salem, Oregon.

Having been their squad leader, J often blames herself for the incident, even if she doesn’t talk about it or say anything out loud. J is an ass kisser. She will do anything and everything to succeed and has a Holier Than Thou personality, often very uptight and not about any bullshit. Her relationship with N specifically is horrible, and she harbours lots of jealousy and resentment from their time growing up due to favoritism.

She has a long standing, massive crush on Tessa Elliot, her longtime confidant and friend, though it went unrequited for their entire childhood and into their early adult life, J often being subject to Tessa’s dating endeavours and crushes in the meantime.

Lance Corporal Victoria, (Who prefers to go by V present day) 4-18 who was fostered from a family in Vermont under Tessa, another childhood friend, and the Elliot family in Melbourne Australia from the ages of 8-18. She enlisted in the military alongside J and eventually N, and was transferred to the states to assist in training procedures for new cadets with J.

She was decommissioned during her second deployment overseas along with N and J after their humvee hit an IED during a routine supply run. All three were critically injured and the sole survivors of their team of 6. She took the brunt of the blast, sustaining the most severe wounds and was airlifted to an emergency hospital in germany, then, once stabilized, returned to the states to resume inpatient care in Salem, Oregon.

The doctors operating on her told her she would never walk again--V proved that wrong by walking the next week. It was a miracle—however V simply states it was due to “having that dog in her.”

She is very resilient, but is often grumpy with a dry sense of tone and humor. She used to have feelings for N when they were kids, but it's since faded as they grew and disappeared during their time in active duty. Though despite this, she still cares for him as a friend, even if she rarely shows it.

She is the first to be discharged, having been set up in an apartment downtown by Tessa, who lives with her and eventually is joined by N, J, Cyn, and eventually Uzi. She is a gym rat with a heavy workout regimen that she will make everyone else's problem if its interrupted.

CYN

Cynthia (Who ONLY goes by Cyn present day) is N's little sister. She is still in active duty in the military air-force. She was a child savant who graduated highschool at 14 and college at 18, moving on to become one of the best UAV operators in history, with successful missions reaching into the hundreds. Cyn is autistic and physically disabled, having been born with cerebral palsy, and uses forearm crutches as mobility aids--but make no mistake, she is incredibly intuitive and adept. often knock-kneed and walks with an awkward gate, and speaks with very ‘robotic’ mannerisms. She sometimes struggles to show empathy in a ‘socially normal way’ or have a conversational filter. She has a very dark sense of humor as well, that for those not used to her may find jarring or off putting. Cyn hates being referred to as a child or incompetent because of her appearance or her disability, she will even go to an extent to prove the point that she does not need assistance. Tends to be protective of N, to a lesser but still protective of V and J and much later down the line Uzi becomes a close friend of hers.

In her off time she enjoys painting warhammer figurines, collecting cards and playing video games. She has a very kitsch, macabre sense of interest, often owning eclectic, odd knick knacks and memorabilia, namely a taxidermied wombat she’s affectionately named “Suzie.”

TESSA

Dr Tessa James Elliot is a very talented surgeon working out of a public hospital in Brisbane, Australia, descending from a very rich family. She is N, V and J’s childhood friend and frequently travels to different parts of the world to assist in surgeries or specialist care. Tessa paused all of her work when she learned of their incident overseas, flying to America to personally attend to their care–with some bribery and finagling due to HIPPA not allowing biased treatment. She just cares too much to not do anything. Tessa is a joyful, social butterfly. Excellent bedside manner and a good sense of humor but sometimes comes off as socially awkward. She is J’s lifelong crush despite not being aware of it, having spent some time dating around but nobody ever seems to be the right fit. She often complains about her recent dating endeavors to J much to her chagrin.

Tessa is, for the lack of a better word, weird. Think Cyn with a little more charisma, often not having a conversational filter or saying things out of the blue. She is not disturbed by otherwise off putting things like death, bodily fluids, nudity, gore etc, and has a bit of a dark sense of humor that she portrays very upbeat and positively. She is incredibly smart and adept bookwise, however socially she comes up a bit short.

there is an alternative version of these guys however it is 18+ for nudity. you can see it on bluesky here and twitter here

#murder drones #uzi doorman #serial designation n #serial designation v #serial designation j #md cyn #tessa md #tessa james elliot #murder drones doll #md doll #md lizzy #md thad #murder drones fanart #nuzi #human au #md fanfic #my stuff

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curawrites · 2 months ago

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Searching, Saving, Sparring, Kissing

Garrick Tavis x fem!Reader

Warnings: Minor Onyx Storm spoilers, cursing, unwanted attention from a man, sparring, kissing, lazy ending.

Note: Exams are finally over and I’m finally free!! Yippee!!! 💚Anyways, I tried something different with this fic and it turned out okay I think? Idk I kinda gave up on editing this more because it’s all I’ve done for the past few days.

Tag list: @ttheslutttybookwworm @sheblogs @mazzer @luvly-writer @river-of-woe @celeste-fourthwing

Garrick sighed as he once again, looked at the time. You were supposed to have joined him for training in the sparring gym ten minutes ago but you still hadn’t showed up.

Strange.. It wasn't like you to be late.

Although, it was the weekend so you could have just slept in.. Wait- No, you couldn’t have because every morning you wake up early to go fly on your dragon Ahvi, he knew this. But even then, you should have been back by now.

So where were you?

When five more minutes had passed and you still hadn’t showed up Garrick decided that he should go find you. Who knows, maybe you lost track of time flying or maybe you were still getting ready in your dorm.

Figuring the most likely scenario was the first one, he decided to question Chradh before venturing out to look for you in the quadrant, “Is Ahvi in the Vale?” He asked through the bond.

“She is and has been for the last thirty minutes now that she went out on her usual morning flight with the Shy One you like.” Chradh answered.

So you were back from your flight.

After thanking his dragon, Garrick left the sparring gym to try and catch you on what he assumed would be your way to the gym from your dorm.

But he never got to run into you before he found himself questioning the girl who lived next to you as he stood in front of the door to your dormitory. “Hey do you know if Y/n is in there?” He asked her.

She blinked at him suspicious before answering, “I heard her leave this morning like she usually does but I don’t think she’s been back.” She shrugged before walking off.

Well that’s weird. If you weren’t in your dorm, or on your way to the gym, or out flying, where were you?

The only other place Garrick could possibly think of would be the Archives. It was possible that you had decided to return a few books before meeting up with him, and had lost track of time while looking over the new books Jesinia would have given you.

To avoid the long walk to the Scribe Quadrant, he decided to discreetly use his distance wielding to travel there in an instant.

Thankfully the first person he saw when he entered the Archives was Jesinia. He quickly signed a greeting to her before asking her if she had seen you this morning.

She gave him a confused look before signing back that she hadn’t seen you since you had came the week prior.

Garrick visibly deflated at her answer then signed a quick thank you before he left.

How in the gods names was he not able to find you? It wasn’t like you were Xaden who could hide in the shadows. You had your routine and you liked books where else- Then it hit him, you could be in the library!

Not only was it in the Rider’s Quadrant but it was on the way from your dorm to the sparring gym.

He scolded himself for not thinking of that sooner, before he once again used his distance wielding to get to the library. Only to not find you anywhere amongst the many cadets currently studying for whatever tests they had.

Now he was truly stumped, it’s not like you would’ve wanted to ditch him or anything. You had agreed to his offer very enthusiastically and with the cutest blush on your face, so he knew you had intended on coming.

As a last resort, he decided to question Chradh again, “Does Ahvi know where Y/n is? I can’t find her anywhere.” Garrick asked as he walked through the halls, still keeping an eye out for you.

Chradh grumbled in slight annoyance, “I’m sure Ahvi knows exactly where her own rider is. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be eating double her weight in sheep as we speak.” He pointed out, as if Garrick could see what he was observing.

Garrick sighed, “Could you just ask her where she is? ..Please.” He said as he undid the wrap around his hand.

Chradh let out a displeased growl, “And interrupt Ahvi’s feasting? I think not. I’d rather fly all the way to the border in a thunderstorm before facing her wrath.” He responded.

Garrick rolled his eyes, “Tell her I asked then, maybe she’ll take it better because she likes me.” He rewrapped his hand as he waited for a response.

Seriously how bad could Ahvi be? She was half Chradh’s age and size for the gods’ sakes.

After a few seconds of silence Chradh finally replied, “The Shy One is in the courtyard.” He informed through a stubborn grumble.

The courtyard? Why would you be- Garrick shook his head, all that mattered was that he knew where to find you, “Thank you.” He huffed before immediately heading to the courtyard.

Thankfully the walk wasn’t long and when Garrick finally stepped outside, he was immediately met with the sight of you talking with some guy. A guy he couldn’t seem to recognize.

It’s not like he knew every person in the quadrant, but this guy was no cadet, he had a lieutenant’s patch on his flight jacket. But why would a lieutenant even be at Basgaith? More importantly, why were you even talking to this guy in the first place? And what the fuck was he giving you?

Garrick felt his fists tighten as he watched the guy hold out a black leather harness strapped with two very ornate looking short swords and eight matching daggers towards you.

Considering he knew Xaden had spent a small fortune on Violet’s daggers, he could only imagine that this man had used his entire life savings to buy those.

Jealousy churned in the pit of Garrick’s stomach as he watched you tense up in surprise. But to his shock and relief, you didn’t jump up and squeal like you usually did when you were excited. No, you took a few steps back, causing the guy’s smug expression to falter before he started to step towards you.

Garrick’s protective instinct kicked in before he was walking closer to the rotunda where you stood.

The first thing he was able to hear was your very shy but polite protests, “N-no. Gods no I can’t accept that..!” You stuttered, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

The guy chuckled at your stunned expression, “Come on Y/n, don’t be so modest! This gear is specially made for your signet! You see, all the swords and daggers have runes imbedded in their blades that allow you to cover them in flames without the metal melting.” He explained proudly.

You stared at him in complete disbelief before an awkward laugh bubbled its way out of your throat, “Oh Tom- Th-this is.. This is too much..” You sputtered as you took another step back.

Tom flashed you a charming smile, “Nonsense! I can’t help but spoil you okay? You are my favourite cadet after all.” He said as he began to unbuckle and pull out all of the harness’ straps. “Here, I’ll even help you put it all on.” He offered.

Garrick felt bile build up in his throat. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Your entire body tensed, “Tom it’s really not necessary- I’m already late for my sparring session..” You protested but he had already sunk to his knees.

Tom completely ignored any and all of your pleading as he strapped you into the harness. Once the straps were wrapped snuggly around your thighs and hips, he adjusted the sheaths of each blade, making sure the two short swords crossed comfortably above your butt, while the daggers rested on the outside of your thighs.

When he was seemingly done you let out a sigh of relief. Thank the gods..

But Tom wasn’t getting up, instead he was staring up at you while his hands rested on your thighs, inches away from your ass.

You blinked down at him, waiting for him to move but the moment never came, “Um.. I need.. I need to go now- Garrick is waiting for me..” You chuckled awkwardly.

Tom’s brows furrowed, “Y/n, I barely see you.. Surely he can wait a little longer.” His hands gripped your harness tightly.

A shaky sigh left your lips, “Tom, please.. I’m already really late..” You pleaded, keeping your tone gentle as you tried to loosen the hold he had on the leather straps.

That was the last straw for Garrick. It was clear to him that you were not feeling this guy at all and despite that you were still being way too nice to the fucking creep.

And while he adored your shy and kind demeanour, it was unfortunately your biggest detriment when it came to confrontation. Especially when it came to people who were of a higher rank than you, like a lieutenant.

Having enough of watching you let Tom walk all over you, Garrick finally decided to make his presence known. “Ah, there you are Y/n, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” He called out as he walked to your side.

Your head whipped towards him, revealing the embarrassed flush that coloured your face, “Garrick I’m so sorry. I- I was just on my way after I flew with Ahvi but I got caught up-“ Words awkwardly tumbled from your mouth as you desperately tried to explain yourself.

Stupid Tom! This was not how you wished Garrick had found you. Now he was going to think you weren’t interested in him but you really were and-

Garrick only shook his head, “Don’t apologize you were only ten minutes late when I decided to go look for you. I assumed you went to the Archives to return some books to Jesinia before we were supposed to meet up.” He smiled reassuringly.

A blush warmed your cheeks, “A-ah.. you know me too well..” You muttered as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

With your attention else where, you didn’t notice that Tom was finally standing up.

He completely ignored Garrick’s presence as he brushed the grass off of his pants, “We’ll continue this later, yeah?” He looked at you expectantly, a strained smile plastered on his face.

Before you could respond, Garrick glared at him, “Unfortunately you won’t. We have a test to study for after training.” He lied before turning to you, “Now then, let’s go spar.” He put a hand on your lower back.

You nodded stiffly, quietly uttering a simple goodbye to Tom before you let Garrick lead you back inside the quadrant. “Thanks for getting me out of that Garrick..” you muttered as the tension left your body.

He glanced towards you, “Yeah, don’t worry about it. That Tom guy seemed like a real creep..” Garrick commented with a shudder.

A sigh left your lips, “He seemed perfectly normal the last few times we’ve chatted but I guess me mentioning we had plans set him off or something..” You shrugged as you walked into the sparring gym. “Anyways enough about him. I want to talk about sparring.” You huffed before pulling out some cotton wraps from your pocket.

Garrick smiled, “Someone’s excited.” He teased while adjusting the mat that he had claimed earlier that morning.

Your cheeks warmed, “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s good practice to spar with you, especially unarmed because I’m shit at it. I do well with a weapon and my signet, and I can take on most girls without them. But I’d rather not get my ass handed to me by some buff first year guy again because that was embarrassing..” you cringed at the memory as you wrapped up your hands and knuckles.

He hummed in response as he fixed his own wraps, “So no weapons?” He said as he glanced towards you.

“Nope. Just hand to hand.” You confirmed as you loosened all your harness’ straps

The harness fell down your legs and hit the floor with a metallic thud, “Aww you don’t want to try out your new gear? I was looking forward to having you hold such a pretty knife at my throat.” He pouted playfully.

A flustered noise of surprise slipped past your lips, “Sh-shut up..” You kicked the gear to the side before walking towards the mat.

Garrick snorted as he saw your flushed face, “You ready?” He asked, matching your fighting stance.

Your fists clenched against the cotton wraps, “Ready.” You nodded before swinging.

He dodged your punch easily, only to be kicked in the gut. Not bad, he thought, not bad..

Winning a sparring match against Garrick had seemed practically impossible before. But now that you had actually landed a few good hits on him, you couldn’t stop the hope from blooming in your chest.

Maybe you had severely underestimated yourself earlier or perhaps Zinhal had blessed that damn first year with some beginners luck because you were actually holding your own-

Suddenly your feet were swept out from under you. Panic washed over you in an instant and before you could really think it through, you had already grabbed onto Garrick, forcing him to go down with you.

Your back hit the mat with a force that knocked the wind right out of you, and the smacking sound that followed echoed throughout the empty gym. Despite struggling to breath, you still tried to fight back.

And while your attempts were valiant, they weren’t able to stop Garrick from pressing your thighs down with his knees before grabbing both your wrists into his hands and pinning them above your head. You tried you best to squirm out of his hold but it was no use.

A defeated sigh left your lips as you realized that you were in fact trapped, “I yield..” you muttered as your head fell back against the mat.

Garrick let go of your wrists, “Fuck yeah!” He cheered, raising both arms in the air before he placed his hands on either side of your head.

His victorious smirk faltered as he gazed down at you. Gods.. You looked absolutely irresistible like this, all flushed and sweaty under him.. He hadn’t intended to pin you down so suggestively but he wasn’t complaining when his eyes met your own.

You panted heavily as you looked up at him, a blush slowly creeping up your cheeks as you realized how inappropriate this would look to any outsider passing by.

A grin tugged at the corners of Garrick’s mouth as he watched your face turn bright red while your lips pursed into a flustered pout. He couldn’t help but stare at them, they looked so soft.. So kissable.. So- His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned down and kissed you. …Warm.. He finished the thought as his lips melded against yours.

When you weren’t kissing him back, Garrick pulled away and opened his eyes. He was about to apologize for taking it too far but your stunned expression stopped him in his tracks.

Your eyes were wide with shock while your mouth opened and closed as your tried to find your words, “Garrick.. I..~” You licked your lips before looking him dead in the eyes, “Kiss me again..~” You demanded.

Garrick grinned as his cheeks warmed, “Gladly.~” He said before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours again.

This time you kissed him back passionately, wrapping your arms around his neck before tangling your hands into his dark hair.

The world seemed to fade away while the sounds of your lips melding against each others echoed throughout the empty gym as you lost yourselves in your passionate exchange..

#fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #garrick tavis x reader #garrick fourth wing #garrick tavis x y/n #garrick tavis fluff #garrick tavis x you

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lemmesayimyourbiggestfan · 4 months ago

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Crossing the line - Dain Aetos

Dain Aetos x reader

word count: 4,6 k

trigger warning: mild onyx storm spoilers, NSFW, SMUT, 18+

requests are open!! i’m currently reading onyx storm and i’m obsessed with nearly everyone so shoot

Ever since entering the rider’s quadrant, you’d made it your personal mission to get under Dain Aetos’ skin. There was something about the way he carried himself - so composed, so infuriatingly perfect - that made you want to crack that facade wide open. Being in the same squad only gave you more opportunities to push his buttons. You told yourself it was just for fun, that you didn’t care about the way his jaw tightened when you teased him or the way his eyes flashed with something he couldn’t quite hide. But deep down, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you were trying to see if there was more to him than the rule-following, by-the-book cadet everyone thought he was.

But later on, your comments grew to be more of a joke than genuine criticism and both you and Dain made it a part of your routine. Halfway through your second year, your teasing remarks had taken on a different tone - lighter, flirtier, though neither of you acknowledged it. You told yourself it was just a game, a way to keep things interesting. But sometimes, when his eyes met yours across the mess hall or during training, you wondered if there was something more behind his sharp retorts and smirks. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t the only one who noticed the way the air between you seemed to crackle with something you couldn’t quite name.

But during your third year, you couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under your wingleader’s eyes nor the lack of humour in his retorts. You’d been there when his father disowned him. The words had echoed through the room, sharp and final, like the crack of a whip. You’d seen the way Dain’s shoulders stiffened, the way his jaw clenched as if he were holding back a storm of emotions. But what struck you most was the way his eyes - usually so full of fire and determination - had gone hollow, as if a part of him had been extinguished. Your heart ached for him, though you’d never admit it out loud. For all the times you’d teased him, you’d never wanted to see him broken.

Somehow, you found yourself standing in front of the door to his room, your heart pounding in your chest as you paced back and forth. What the hell were you doing? This was Dain Aetos, the man who’d spent three years glaring at you like you were the bane of his existence. And yet, here you were, holding a bottle of wine like some kind of peace offering. You took a deep breath, your knuckles hovering over the door. Before you could second-guess yourself, you knocked - three sharp raps that echoed down the empty hallway. You heard those soft but tired steps coming closer and closer until the door opened and your eyes met his, their sandy-brown irises lacking their usual spark.

“Hey,” Dain said, leaning against the door frame in a poor imitation of nonchalance. But you saw right through him. The shadows under his eyes were darker than usual, and the usual sharpness in his gaze was dulled by exhaustion. His brown hair was disheveled, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly, and his posture, though carefully casual, betrayed the weight he was carrying.

“Thought you could use some company,” you said, holding up the bottle of wine with a grin. “And before you say no, remember that I’m the only person in this quadrant who can put up with your brooding. Well, besides your paperwork, but I’m way more fun.”

Dain eyed the bottle suspiciously, his brow furrowing as if trying to decipher your motives. But you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged under an invisible weight. For once, he didn’t have the energy to push you away or fire off one of his usual sharp retorts. Instead, he glanced down the hallway, as if checking to make sure no one was watching, and then stepped aside to let you in. You didn’t need to say it out loud - you’d already won.

You’d never seen his room before, but it was exactly what you expected: barren walls, a simple bed, an armoire, a chair and a table buried under piles of paperwork and books. The sight made your chest tighten. This wasn’t just a room - it was a reflection of him. Orderly, functional, and painfully lonely. The guilt in your heart grew heavier. Had you been so focused on breaking his walls that you’d failed to notice how much he was already carrying?

Dain sat down back in his chair and started cleaning the surface of the table, to no avail. You could see the nervousness creeping into him. When was the last time he had a girl in his room? You forced yourself to not think about such nonsense.

You perched on the edge of his bed, the mattress firm beneath you, and took a swig of wine. The rich, tangy flavor grounded you as you watched him shuffle papers aimlessly. The room smelled faintly of leather and ink, and the fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over his tired face. You fidgeted with the bottle, unsure what to do with your hands - or your thoughts. Upon noticing the empty glass on the table you walked over and filled it to the rim, sensing the way Dain was looking at you. You ignored the heat of his body and stalked back to the bed, the distance between you two palpable.

“Why are you here, Y/N?” Dain asked, his voice low and weary. He kept his eyes on the paper in front of him, but you noticed the way his hand stilled, the pen hovering mid-sentence.

You hesitated, the question hanging in the air between you. Why were you here? To tease him? To comfort him? Or because, despite all your jabs and jokes, you couldn’t stand to see him like this - broken and alone.

“So you wouldn’t be so lonesome, wingleader,” you teased, smirking as you held up the wine bottle. “Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t drown in all this paperwork. I hear it’s bad for your health.” To your delight, the corner of his mouth lifted.

“How was your day?” he asked, still not looking at you. As surprised as you were, you didn’t comment when he took a sip of his wine. Oh, he must be actually going crazy.

“Sucked. Yours?”

“Same.”

You chuckled, laying down on the bed. The blanket smelled exactly like him.

“I could help you out with something,” you pointed to the piles of books.

“No need, thanks.”

“You scared I would mess something up, wingleader?”

“Well, don’t you always?” he jabbed back and you pretended to be offended by his words, though on the inside you couldn’t be happier he was turning back to his normal self.

“Excuse me? Never.”

Dain looked over his shoulder at you and lifted his brows.

“If you say so.”

With a scowl, you turned away from him.

For an hour, you kept each other quiet company, the only sounds being papers turning, pen scribbling and fire cracking in the hearth. You pretended you didn’t notice how Dain stole glances at you, the same way he pretended he didn’t see you looking at him. He looked damn perfect in this light.

So you two just drank, too much of cowards to actually acknowledge the chemistry between you two that has been growing ever since you first met.

When his glass was empty, you were there to fill it again. Silently, you watched with interest the effect alcohol had on him. Gods, had he ever drunk before? You could see his reddened cheeks, how he leaned his head back against the chair, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. He looked so unguarded and beautiful.

To speak for yourself, the wine made you drop your defenses. When you saw his perfectly messed up hair, you couldn’t help but get up and go touch it. His eyes opened at your touch and Dain just stared up at you as you sunk your fingers in his silky hair.

“You have pretty hair,” you mumbled, blush creeping up your cheeks. What the fuck were you doing? He was your wingleader and the fact that you two had flirted for two years changed nothing.

“Really?” he whispered. You watched his tan throat, the soft skin as it bobbed when he swallowed.

“Mhm…” you hummed softly, moving your fingers to his temples, then caressing his sharp cheekbones. Slowly, you moved to touch those gods' damned lips.

Suddenly, his hands shot up so fast as he gripped your wrists. You could do nothing but stare at him, hurt flashing across your features.

“What are we doing?” Dain asked, unguarded confusion etched into his face.

“What we should have done a long time ago.” You knew he was bluffing. The grip he had on your wrists disappeared the second you kissed him.

After a moment of hesitation, you felt his body melt. With one arm he lifted you on his lap, the other holding your face as he caressed your neck, kissing you with intensity you never even thought of, his beard scraping your already sensitive skin. You felt his warm hand splayed on your hip, his fingers moving in circular motions up your waist. You couldn’t help but shudder at his touch.

For a second, Dain pulled away. “Is this fine?” he asked quietly, misunderstanding your shiver. Immediately, you missed the heat of his powerful body.

“Yes.” you said, breathless. “More than fine, actually.” you grinned and that blissful smile on his face made you melt. His hand gripped your hair as he pulled you close again, his lips trailing a path down the side of your throat. A gasp of pleasure escaped your lips and you heard Dain groan into your skin.

You needed him. For almost two years, you were saving the spot in your bed just for him, even though you would never admit it out loud. Buckling your hips, you felt his bulge rub against you. The sweet ache in your lower belly grew, as did your body’s need for this man.

“Dain,” you whispered, moving against him again. Dain whimpered softly, his forehead resting between your breasts while his hands explored your ass and waist.

“Yes, cadet?” you felt him smiling into your skin. Letting out a huffed laugh, you reached for the hem of his tight black tunic and tried to pull it off his toned torso. Only with his help did you finally shrug it off of him.

You’ve seen him shirtless many times before but now you could finally touch those muscles, visible with his every move.

“Oh, nothing important, wingleader. Just wanted to ask if you put a sound shield up or if you want the whole quadrant to hear me scream your name.” You purred into his ear.

He immediately froze and you knew you would never forget the look he gave you. But then he smirked, that gods’ damned cocky smirk and you melted right there and then.

“It’s up. If you scream my name, I would prefer it to be just for me, love.”

Dain gripped your hips firmly, making your bodies grind against each other harder. With a swallowed gasp of pleasure you caressed his muscular shoulders, pecs and biceps, admiring the bulging veins on his arms. Dain trembled under your touch while soft whimpers escaped his wickedly perfect lips. Oh, how you loved to see him like this.

"Guess I finally found a way to break your precious rules, wingleader." you smirked. “Who would’ve guessed that all it takes is just a pretty face.”

“It’s probably past curfew, pretty face or not,” Dain breathed out and you stopped, giving him an unbelievable look. “I’m kidding, Y/N.” he laughed and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“I hope I make you think of other things than curfew.” you smirked at him, caressing the skin of his torso right above his buckle.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” Dain asked. You shook your head and he leaned closer, his scent overpowering you as he whispered in your ear: “I’m thinking about bending you over this table and making you fucking melt.”

A delicious shiver ran down your spine at his words as heat pooled low in your belly. You had pushed and teased him for years, but never had you imagined Dain Aetos would ever say something like that—to you, no less. To anyone, really. Was it the wine? It must have been.

“Is that so?” you murmured, tilting your head back slightly as his lips traced a slow path along the curve of your throat. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers pressing into your flesh as if he was barely restraining himself.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his breath warm against your skin. “But something tells me you wouldn’t make it that easy for me.”

You smirked, reaching for his belt, but he caught your wrists again, this time with a firm yet careful grip. His sandy-brown eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable flickering within them. At least their spark was back.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher. But you also saw the question in his face.

Your heart thudded against your ribs. This was Dain—your wingleader, your rival, your… friend? No, you had crossed that line long ago, hadn’t you? This moment had been simmering between you two for years, an unspoken tension in every sharp remark, every stolen glance, every touch that lasted a second too long.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, your hands slipping free from his hold to cup his face. His stubble scratched against your palms, grounding you in the reality of this moment.

"Do your worst," you whispered, your voice trembling despite your bravado.

Dain froze, his eyes searching yours for a moment, as if waiting for you to take it back. When you didn't, he exhaled sharply, a flicker of something raw and unguarded crossing his face. "You have no idea what you're asking for," he murmured, his voice low.

"Then show me," you challenged, your heart pounding in your chest.

Dain exhaled sharply, something in him snapping. In an instant, he stood, lifting you effortlessly onto the table, sending books and papers scattering to the floor. You barely had a moment to laugh before his lips crashed against yours again, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Gods, you had wanted this.

And by the way Dain groaned into your mouth, the way his hands roamed your body as if memorizing every inch of you, you knew he had wanted it too.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with heat and the sound of your mingled breaths. Dain's hands were everywhere - tangling in your hair, gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs-and you couldn't get enough of him. His lips left yours only to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, leaving marks you knew you'd have to hide later. You didn't care. Let the whole quadrant see. Let them know that Dain Aetos, the stoic, rule-following wingleader, had finally let his walls crumble - for you.

"Dain," you gasped, arching into him as his teeth grazed your collarbone. His name felt like a prayer on your lips, and he responded with a low growl, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer.

"You've been driving me insane for years," he muttered against your skin, his voice rough and strained. "Every damn comment, every smirk, every time you looked at me like you knew exactly what you were doing... I wanted to hate you for it."

You laughed breathlessly, your fingers threading through his hair. "Hate me? Really?"

"Yes," he said, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, and you could see the truth in them. "But I couldn't. Not when you were the only one who ever made me feel... alive."

Your heart stuttered at his words, and for a moment, you were speechless. Dain Aetos, the man who always seemed so composed, so in control, was laying himself bare before you. And it was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

"Dain," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I-"

He cut you off with a kiss, deep and desperate, as if he couldn't bear to hear what you were about to say. Maybe he was afraid it would break the spell, shatter the fragile moment you'd built between you. Or maybe he just didn't want to waste another second talking when he could be showing you exactly how he felt.

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head in one swift motion.

The cool air of the room hit your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he took you in. His fingers traced the curve of your waist, sending shivers down your spine.

"I've spent years trying not to look at you like this," he murmured, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite grasp. "I don't know how l managed to keep my hands off you for so long."

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. "You're not doing a very good job of keeping them off me now," you teased, your voice laced with amusement.

Dain chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip. "Good," he said, his hands sliding up to cup your face. "Because I don't plan on stopping."

You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continued to kiss and tease your skin. His hands moved lower, undoing the fastenings of your pants and sliding them down your legs. You kicked them off, your heart racing as he looked at you, his eyes filled with desire as he caressed your thighs.

You arched into his touch, your fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He groaned against your mouth, his hips pressing into yours as you finally freed him from the confines of his pants.

"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear as he pushed you back onto the table. You laughed, the sound breathless and wild, as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart.

A gasp escaped your throat as his lips trailed down your chest, his tongue teasing your breasts. He paused, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then he smirked, that infuriating, cocky smirk that had driven you crazy for years, and you knew there was no turning back.

You gasped as his mouth found the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his teeth grazing lightly before he kissed his way higher. The scratch of his stubble against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and the warmth of his breath made your pulse race. You could smell the faint scent of wine on him, mingling with the earthy aroma of leather and sweat that clung to his skin. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue flicked against you, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, but it was no use. Dain knew exactly what he was doing, and he wasn't going to stop until you were completely undone.

"Dain," you gasped, your hips bucking against his mouth as the pressure built inside you. He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge. And then, with one final flick of his tongue, you shattered, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you.

Dain didn't give you a moment to recover. His hands gripped your hips again as he changed his position, bending you over the table - just like he promised.

His lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your spine, sending shivers down your body. You could feel the heat of him pressing against you, his arousal evident as he leaned over you, his chest brushing against your back.

"Dain," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. His name felt like a plea, a prayer, and he answered with a low growl that vibrated through your entire being.

"You have no idea how long l've wanted this," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. His hands slid up your sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before settling on your shoulders. He pressed you down gently but firmly, your chest meeting the cool surface of the table as he positioned himself behind you.

You gasped as you felt him, hard and eager, pressing against you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. But you didn't want him to stop. You wanted this - wanted him - more than anything.

"Don't you dare," you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you. Dain laughed, the sound sending a thrill down your spine.

"Good," he said, his voice low. And then he was pushing into you, slowly, deliberately, giving you time to adjust to the feel of him. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, but it escaped anyway, a soft, desperate sound that only seemed to spur him on.

Dain groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he buried himself to the hilt. For a moment, he stayed still, his forehead resting against your back as he fought for control. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled with the effort of holding back.

"Dain," you whispered, your voice breaking. You needed him to move, to give you the release you so desperately craved. And then he did, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, hard and fast.

You cried out, your fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth surface of the table as Dain set a relentless pace. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, building the pressure inside you until you thought you might explode.

"You feel so good," Dain growled, his voice strained. His hands moved from your hips to your shoulders, pulling you up so your back was pressed against his chest. His lips found your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin as he continued to move inside you.

You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair as you turned your head to capture his lips in a searing kiss. Dain groaned into your mouth, his hips stuttering as he lost himself in the feel of you.

"Y/N," he gasped, breaking the kiss to bury his face in your neck. "I'm close."

"Me too," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing.

Dain's hand slid down your body, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. You cried out, your body tightening around him as pleasure ripped through you.

Dain followed you over the edge, his hips jerking as he spilled himself inside you. He held you tightly, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he rode out the waves of his release.

The room was quiet now, save for the soft crackling of the fire and the sound of your mingled breaths. He scooped you into his arms and moved you to his bed. Dain's arms were wrapped around you, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the faint thud of his heartbeat, and the way his fingers traced idle patterns on your arm. It was a stark contrast to the intensity of moments ago, and yet it felt just as profound.

For years, you’d teased him, pushed him, and now… now you were here, in his arms, wondering if you’d crossed a line you could never uncross.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. Words felt unnecessary when the weight of what had just happened hung so palpably in the air. But eventually, Dain broke the silence, his voice low and rough, yet softer than you'd ever heard it.

"Y/N," he began, his fingers stilling on your arm. "This... changes everything."

You turned slightly in his arms, enough to meet his gaze. His sandy-brown eyes were darker now, the usual sharpness softened by something you couldn't quite name. Vulnerability, maybe. Or fear. You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, and felt him lean into your touch.

"I know," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "But maybe it's a change we both needed."

He let out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh, and pulled you closer. His forehead rested against yours, and for a moment, you just breathed together, the rhythm steady and grounding.

"I don't know how to do this," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "How to be... this. With you."

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words. This was Dain - your wingleader, your rival, the man who always seemed so unshakable - laid bare before you. And it was terrifying and beautiful all at once.

"You don't have to figure it out right now," you said softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "We can take it one day at a time. One moment at a time."

He nodded, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring your words. When he opened them again, there was a flicker of that familiar spark, the one you'd missed so much. "You always know what to say, don't you?" he murmured, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Someone has to keep you in check," you teased, grinning when he rolled his eyes. But the smile he gave you in return was genuine, and it made your chest tighten.

For a while, you just lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the fire casting flickering shadows on the walls. The world outside - the quadrant, the rules, the expectations - felt far away, like it couldn't touch you here. And maybe, just for tonight, it couldn't.

But as the fire began to die down and the room grew cooler, reality started to creep back in. You felt Dain shift beside you, his hand tightening around yours.

"We should probably get some sleep," he said reluctantly, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "Tomorrow's going to be... complicated."

You nodded, though the thought of leaving his arms was almost unbearable. "Yeah," you agreed quietly. "But we'll figure it out. Together."

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and you saw something in his eyes that made your breath catch. It wasn't just desire or affection - it was trust. And maybe, just maybe, something more.

"Together," he echoed, his voice firm despite the weariness in it. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling away. "Get some rest, Y/N. I'll be here when you wake up."

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. As you settled back into the bed, his arms wrapping around you once more, you felt a sense of peace you hadn't known in years. This wasn't the end of something - it was the beginning. And whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you'd face them together.

Because Dain Aetos was no longer just your wingleader, your rival, or your friend. He was yours, and you were his. And nothing would ever be the same again.

#dain aetos #dain aetos x reader #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing x you #iron flame #iron flame x reader #onyx storm #onyx storm x reader #fourth wing imagine #dain aetos imagine #rebecca yarros #dain x reader

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pepsoui4 · 2 months ago

Text

Where I Want to Be

The strong willed, fierce and independent reader learns she may feel too much when Bodhi Durran is around.

I'm thinking of doing a part 2, thoughts? I need more Fourth Wing fics, cmon now!

Word count: 4,971

Warnings: sparring, unsaid feelings, threats

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/pepsoui4/783108795206451200/where-i-want-to-be-part-2?source=share

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/pepsoui4/783225952109035520/where-i-want-to-be-part-3

No one ever questioned why Y/N walked alone. In fact, most people seemed to prefer it that way. She wasn't the type anyone approached lightly, not with that clipped stride and expression set in practiced indifference. She carried her family name like armor: heavy, polished, and meant to intimidate. FlameWalker. It echoed in the halls of Basgiath like a warning bell. The kind of legacy that demanded perfection, that turned heat into a weapon and raised its children to burn weakness out of themselves. And she had learned early and brutally that loneliness was safer than defiance.

As Tail Section Leader of Fourth Wing and in her second year, she had eyes on her from every angle. Commandants, legacy families, her own brutal bloodline, and the cadets under her. Her squad ran on precision. She was known for being harsh, efficient, emotionally distant. And she liked it that way. Or at least, she told herself she did. She was a model of everything her family expected. Focused. Efficient. Distant.

The FlameWalker name carried weight. Her parents, her brothers, even her distant relatives were all expected to be leaders if they weren't already. They were brutal, fanatics for purity and power. Her family’s ideology burned through generations: strength is order, order is control.

Her reputation preceded her: sharp-tongued, fiercely independent, and unapproachable. Her lineage was synonymous with power and an unyielding disdain for marked ones. This legacy was both her shield and her shackle. Her orders were followed without debate, not because of any natural charisma, but because she didn’t tolerate questions. Legacy riders weren’t raised to be liked. They were raised to lead. Efficiently, coldly and without attachment. Of course, she had taken that lesson to heart.

She had mastered the art of isolation. She didn't make friends. She didn't laugh in public. She didn’t bother pretending to be anyone but the hard-edged girl she’d been molded into. People steered clear, not just because of her attitude nor title, but because the FlameWalker name came with rules. Written and unwritten. The most sacred of which was this: do not fraternize with the marked ones.

Her family loathed them. Those who bore the magic-stained scars of being chosen. They saw it as impure. Unnatural. A flaw, not a gift. They said marked ones were dangerous, unstable. That even the best of them were ticking bombs with smiles. She’d repeated it like scripture. Believed it, at least enough not to question it out loud. That was the line she had never stepped over. Never let herself. Her loyalty to her family was supposed to be unquestionable.

Which made her second-in-command an ongoing problem she didn’t know how to name.

Bodhi Durran, the Tail Section Executive Officer, was supposed to be a headache. At least, that’s what she expected when he was assigned to her team. Son of a rebellion leader, marked one, and a cadet known more for his sharp mouth than diplomacy. He wasn’t supposed to be competent. He wasn’t supposed to fit. And yet, somehow, he did.

He handled strategy meetings with a strange mix of intensity and humor, never missing a beat even when she threw last-minute changes at him just to test his adaptability. He pushed back when it counted, stayed quiet when it didn’t, and always seemed three steps ahead. He read people fast. Sometimes faster than she did and called out weak spots in training routines with brutal honesty and no concern for ego.

She didn’t like how much she respected him. Worse, she didn’t like how easy it was to slip into a rhythm with him.

There was ash in the air. Not literal, but in the way heat clung to the breath between bodies and soaked into the worn grit of the sparring mats. The sun cast long lines across the yard, catching on the shimmer of flame-marked gauntlets and the dull gleam of sweat. Y/N FlameWalker stood at the edge of the rotation lines, arms crossed, her posture as immovable as her reputation. The leathers clung to her shoulders, blackened by flame use and time, branded with the sigil of legacy and command.

Her section moved through drills under her watchful eye. Pairs locked in rhythmic strikes and counters. She’d fought harder than most to get this time slot, and even harder to keep it. The training schedule had been chaotic since the term began, with the Gauntlet looming and the Threshing yet to come. Instructors overlooked the Tail Section unless blood stained the wall. She refused to be overlooked.

She noticed everything. Every missed beat. Every falter in stance. She called them out without mercy. Because mercy didn’t forge riders. And her surname meant something. It weighed on her shoulders like a mantle woven from fire and bloodline. There was no room for softness. Not for her.

And yet lately her gaze kept drifting. Slight. Subtle. But always toward the same direction. The Marked Ones.

Not just the inked relics on their skin, but the way others reacted to them. Cold glances. Whispered judgments. Muted sneers passed like notes between cadets. She caught it more now, in the raw tension that followed someone like Imogen crossing the mats, or the way silence trailed behind Garrick’s clipped orders. She noticed it in the way first-years bristled when Liam Mairi passed—still unbonded, still observing, but already too familiar with contempt.

They didn’t deserve it, not like she did.

She had earned the disdain. With her sharp tongue and flint-edge demeanor. With a legacy family that preached loyalty to the Crown and whispered poison about rebellion behind closed doors. The disdain wasn’t new to her, it was expected. Welcome, even. She’d worn it like armor. Made people fear her before they could dismiss her.

But the Marked Ones? They bore hatred they hadn’t asked for. They trained harder than anyone, carried centuries of betrayal on their shoulders, and still showed up.

And none more vividly than Bodhi Durran.

He moved through the sparring rings like wildfire in silk. Lean, fast, sharp. He didn’t bark commands like she did. He offered sharp humor, smirks, and easy laughter. Cadets listened. Relaxed. Fought better under his guidance. He was her second-in-command, appointed as Executive Officer of Fourth Wing Tail Section at the start of second year. A Marked One. A rebel son. And the one who had, somehow, slipped under the cracks of her armor.

She never spoke to him more than required. Never gave anyone a reason to think she was softening. But she listened when he gave instruction. Watched how effortlessly he led, not with authority, but with respect earned through action.

And it burned, didn’t it? That quiet shame. That sick twist in her gut when someone muttered “traitor” as Bodhi passed. She said nothing. She never did. Not when the same words were hurled at Imogen. Or Garrick. Or even Xaden Riorson himself.

She could justify her own bitterness, her isolation. Her family had made her what she was. But the Marked Ones? They carried judgment like a noose and still walked tall.

Why did it bother her so much? She didn’t flinch when others hated her. Why was it different now?

Across the yard, Bodhi flipped a first-year flat onto the mats with effortless grace, landing in a crouch, his smirk wicked and sharp. The younger rider lay stunned, groaning, as Bodhi stood and brushed off his leathers like he hadn’t just humiliated someone in five seconds flat. The section around him went quiet. Someone behind her muttered under their breath.

“Marked bastard.”

The words hit harder than they should have. She didn’t turn. Didn’t respond. But something in her chest coiled tight. Hot. Ashen.

She told herself it didn’t matter. And still, her gaze lingered.

The hum of sparring filled the yard like a living thing. Grunts of effort, the sharp crack of palm against wrist, the scuff of boots pivoting across the mats. Y/N hadn’t moved in minutes, hadn’t spoken since assigning rotations, but her eyes were everywhere. Watching. Calculating. Measuring the potential of every fighter in her section. This was the time she’d fought tooth and claw for. Petitioned up the chain of command, argued with Wingleaders in louder wings who had dismissed Fourth Wing as the underdogs they always were. She’d earned this block of uninterrupted sparring through sheer force of will, and she would not have it squandered.

Still, even her focus couldn’t drown out the whispers.

They started like static. Low murmurs behind her right shoulder, a ripple of ill-contained amusement from two first-year cadets who thought the tail end of the mat was far enough from her line of vision. She didn’t need to turn to know who they were. She’d clocked every name, every face, and more importantly, every attitude in her section. One of them laughed, just a little too loudly. A scoff followed. Then a voice, male, smooth in the way that made her think of oily charm and the kind of confidence that came from too much privilege and too little humility.

“Cocky little rebellion rat. Figures he thinks charm makes up for dirty blood.”

The words struck something inside her. Not like a blade or a blow, but like flint against stone. A spark. Small, bright, hot. For a moment, she said nothing. Years of upbringing held her still. Don’t engage. Don’t lower yourself. Don’t defend the disloyal.

Her father’s voice again, stern and hollow: Their weakness will reveal itself. Stay above it. Stay true to the FlameWalker name.

And yet, she couldn’t unhear it. Couldn’t pretend the words hadn’t curled beneath her skin like smoke looking for a fire to feed. She hated how it lodged itself in her chest. How it burned deeper than it should have. Not because she cared what they thought of Bodhi. Not because she was soft on the Marked Ones.

Gods no. But because it was happening in her section, under her leadership, during her time. And that she could not abide.

Her boots scraped across the mat as she moved, each step sharp, deliberate, echoing over the din of practice. Cadets turned to look. Some went still. The tension shifted like metal drawn tight. She made a beeline toward the cadet who had spoken, a broad-shouldered, golden-haired first-year with a too-white smile and the arrogant posture of someone who hadn’t been humbled yet. He straightened the moment her shadow hit his shoes, his chin twitching up in something that almost passed for pride. But his eyes gave him away.

“Repeat what you just said,” she said, her voice clipped and laced with fire.

The boy blinked, feigning confusion that didn’t suit him. “I’m sorry?”

She tilted her head ever so slightly, the motion precise as a knife drawn slow from its sheath. The section knew the look. They’d learned to fear it the first week of being under her command. “Did I stutter? Or should I assume your mouth only works when you think no one with rank is listening?”

The boy paled, lips parting uselessly before his gaze darted toward the others as if hoping someone would bail him out. None did. Her presence turned them to stone.

“It was just a joke,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Just locker room talk, right?”

Gods, the weakness in his voice was an insult on its own. She arched one eyebrow, slowly, as though drawing blood with expression alone. He stumbled again under the weight of her silence.

She let the tension stretch like a bowstring, letting him squirm in the trap he’d set for himself. Then, evenly, voice cool as banked embers, she said, “Strange. Because it sounded like you were wasting the valuable sparring time I fought for us to have. Time that does not come easy for our Section. Time that Flame and Claw would never bother to share.”

Her steps brought her closer, enough that he had to tilt his head back to meet her eyes. “So tell me,” she said, almost a whisper now, the threat in her tone razor-thin and gleaming, “why are you standing here polluting the air with nonsense when you should be on the mat proving you even belong here?”

The boy opened his mouth, perhaps to defend himself, perhaps to grovel. She didn’t care.

“Get your ass on the mat,” she snapped, and shoved him. Not hard, but enough. Enough to make him stumble forward, lose his balance, and feel the full weight of the watching eyes behind him.

He caught himself, barely. Face flushed red. Mouth tight with humiliation.

She felt it. The shift in air pressure, the awareness that prickled across the back of her neck like static. She didn’t have to look to know Bodhi Durran’s eyes were on her. There was a stillness to his presence that always made her uneasy. Like he could sense the moments she didn’t mean to reveal, the cracks in her armor she kept sealed under discipline and disdain. And yet, this time, the weight of his stare held something else. Curiosity. Surprise. Amusement, maybe. The familiar glint of mischief she’d grown used to ignoring. Across the sparring yard, he stood with his arms folded in that infuriatingly relaxed posture of his, body half-angled as if he had all the time in the world to watch her unravel something in front of an audience.

Their eyes met for less than a heartbeat. Hers sharp and unreadable, his lifting slightly with unspoken commentary she refused to invite. She severed the moment before it could breathe. Turned her back to him like it meant nothing. Like he didn’t matter.

She stepped onto the sparring mat with purpose, the space still buzzing from the suddenness of her earlier command. The boy, twenty, smug, and still blinking through the sting of humiliation stood at the edge with one foot hovering just off the padded floor. He was trying to recover what little dignity he had left, trying to mask the panic behind a mask of stiff bravado. She recognized the type. Fourth Wing, Tail Section saw more than its share of would-be warriors who thought their age or height bought them power. But she’d been shaped by a bloodline where power had to be earned. And today, she was going to remind everyone that legacy alone didn’t make her dangerous.

Her boots hit the mat with a satisfying thud as she squared off. No sword. No elemental flash. Just her body, her fists, and the rhythm that had kept her alive long before she earned her dragon’s flame. She bounced lightly on her toes, shoulders loose, her stance coiled and exact. There was a violence to her stillness, something that promised consequence in the smallest of shifts. She fought like a boxer, light on her feet and heavy in her hands, and she’d never needed brute strength to dominate. Precision was her weapon. Timing, her blade.

The boy hesitated as he stepped in. His pride begged him to make a move, to reclaim control of the situation she’d shattered. But his instincts screamed retreat. She saw it in his shoulders, the tension drawn too tight, his balance a second too slow. He was already lost.

“Come on,” she taunted, voice low and confident, her mouth curling into a slow, cruel smile as she gestured him forward with a single curled finger. “Let’s see if you’re as fast with your hands as you are with your mouth.”

It was the final shove. He lunged, heavy and forward, his form all aggression and no thought. He came in hard, trying to overpower, trying to silence the shame with force. He was too loud. Too slow. Too easy.

She pivoted cleanly to the side, her weight already shifting into the next step before his foot fully planted. Her left hand caught his wrist mid-strike, her right sweeping behind his knee in one swift motion. The world flipped beneath him. The mat met him with a brutal, satisfying thud. He didn’t even have time to register the fall before the breath was knocked from his lungs.

She was already standing over him and not even winded.

The entire section had gone silent, the kind of silence that sinks deep into skin. She didn’t bask in it. Didn’t milk the moment. But she felt it, how the tension warped into something else. Respect. Fear. She crouched slowly, letting her eyes lock onto his, and the boy so smug just minutes before couldn’t even meet her gaze.

“If you can’t fight with respect,” she spat, her voice loud enough the entire crowd could hear, especially Bodhi. “you’re not just a coward. You’re useless.”

She straightened and stepped back without ceremony, walking off the mat with precise, grounded steps, her back straight, her chin high. She didn’t look at Bodhi again. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But she felt his gaze still lingering, sharp and searching. Not mocking like the others. No smirk now.

The flush in her chest wasn’t from exertion. It was something else entirely. Something she wasn’t ready to name.

The archives were near-empty at this hour, which was exactly how she liked it. The sun had long since dipped behind the mountains. The halls of Basgiath quiet now, save for the occasional laughter drifting from the dining hall or the far-off echo of boots on stone. Most riders used Friday nights for blowing off steam. Drinking, sparring, or finding warm bodies to forget how brutal their days had been.

Not her.

She was curled into a deep armchair in the back right corner of the Archives. A thick leather-bound volume resting in her lap, her boots planted firmly on the seat. The overhead light cast a warm halo on the open pages, tactical strategy layouts for Gauntlet formations and squad combat drills. She read them not for the first time. Markings lined the margins in her narrow, sharp script. Even now, her brow furrowed as she revised a rough plan for the following week’s maneuvers.

Her body ached from training, her knuckles still raw from striking the mat too hard earlier that day, but she didn’t notice. Not really. Pain was a constant. It was the silence she needed. Space to think, to plan. Being section leader was more than commanding a ring. It was shaping the squad beneath her into something stronger, smarter, and worthy of surviving.

So she didn’t notice him at first. Not until the chair beside her shifted slightly with weight and warmth, and the unmistakable scent of worn leather and wind-touched pine cut through her focus.

Bodhi. Of course it was him.

She didn’t look up, not right away. She stayed rigid, her eyes tracking the same sentence twice on the page, even as the air around her shifted.

He didn’t speak for a moment. Just leaned back, a little too comfortably. As if this had been his plan all along. He didn’t look like someone who spent the day getting flung around mats or thrown under whispered insults. No, Bodhi looked maddeningly at ease. His arm rested against the side of the chair they now shared space between, closer than he normally sat in group briefings or training discussions. Close enough she could feel the heat of him through her sleeve, though she was certain he’d act like he didn’t notice.

Then, finally, his voice cut softly through the quiet, threaded with amusement. “Didn’t think you were the type to go feral in defense of a disgraceful rebellion rat.”

Her eyes didn’t lift from the page, but her lip twitched. “I did no such thing.”

“No?” he drawled, and she could hear the grin in his voice. “Because it looked a whole lot like justice to me.”

“I was defending the sparring slot I nearly dislocated a shoulder to win from Claw Section. I’m not in the business of babysitting egos, especially not yours.”

He chuckled, low and warm, and it slid down her spine like a touch she wasn’t prepared for. “Ah. So I’m just an unfortunate footnote in your schedule, then?”

“Exactly.”

“And here I was thinking I owed you my life,” he said, teasing. “Or at least a drink.”

She finally looked up, eyes narrowed but calm, meeting his gaze full-on. His face was unfairly handsome in the dim light. Shadowed in all the right places, mischief softening into something sincere just beneath the surface. He didn’t look like someone baiting her for fun. He looked grateful, curious and a little too close.

She leaned back slightly, if only to collect herself. Her voice was softer when she replied. “You want to thank me for doing my job, Bodhi? Then show up tomorrow with a section plan that doesn’t involve you charming half the recruits into slacking off.”

“That’s a lot of words for you’re welcome,” he said, and smiled. An actual cheek splitting smile, not the cocky slant he wore during training. This one was softer. Real.

She hated that it made her heartbeat hiccup.

He leaned back, his hand brushing the armrest between them like he wasn’t thinking about it, but of course he was. Bodhi never did anything without calculation. He was all casual grace and practiced unpredictability. But tonight, here, beside her, quiet and still? It felt different. The teasing was still there, sure. But beneath it, a thread of sincerity curled like steam between them.

“You didn’t have to do anything,” he said after a moment, quieter now. “I’ve heard worse. Ignoring it would’ve been easier.”

She looked at him again, and this time she didn’t hide the tension in her jaw. “It’s not any easier. It’s about standards. Mine. And theirs.”

“You still didn’t deny it,” he murmured.

She gave him a flat stare. “If you’re looking for some kind of poetic confession, Durran, go find a scribe.”

His laugh was soft, but it lingered. She didn’t push him away. Didn’t shift to reclaim the space between them. For once, it felt earned. Like the silence meant something other than avoidance. Like maybe he wasn’t the only one trying to make sense of a shift that had already begun.

“I don’t need a confession,” he said after a long beat. “Just wanted to say it meant something more. Coming from you.”

She didn’t respond. Not right away. Her gaze drifted back to the pages in her lap, the words now blurred by thoughts she wasn’t ready to face. She didn’t do vulnerability. Didn’t know how to receive that kind of thing without burning a hole in her chest.

But she didn’t push him away, either. And she didn’t ask him to leave.

Instead, she turned a page she hadn’t finished reading, more out of habit than focus. Her eyes flicked down the line of text, but nothing stuck. Not the formation pattern. Not the movement analysis. Not a single godsdamned word.

Bodhi was still watching her.

And not in the usual way. The way men looked when they were calculating, when they were peeling back armor to find a weakness to press. No, Bodhi’s gaze wasn’t hungry or cruel. It was maddening in its patience. Soft, even. Like he was waiting for her to stop pretending this wasn’t affecting her.

She hated that it was affecting her. “I told you,” she muttered, voice clipped as she flipped the page again. “It wasn’t about you.”

He didn’t buy it. Of course he didn’t. Bodhi never accepted the first answer. He always peeled back the first layer, then the second, until whatever was left stood naked in the light. She’d seen him do it with recruits in training, even with instructors..

But it was different when it was her.

“Right,” he said, drawing the word out just enough to make it irritating. “Totally unrelated. You stormed across the yard and knocked a first-year flat on his ass just to defend, what? Scheduling?”

She didn’t respond as her jaw twitched.

“And that little speech about respect?” he continued, tilting his head as if he were genuinely pondering it. “Sounded real personal. Almost like you gave a damn.”

“I give a damn about structure. And cohesion. And not letting entitled little bastards poison the section I’m responsible for.”

He leaned forward slightly, close enough now that she could smell the salt of dried sweat clinging to his collar, the worn scent of leather and something just undeniably him. He rested one arm along the top of her chair and smirked, but his voice softened.

“Come on, FlameWalker. You’re not fooling me.”

She hated the way her breath caught at the sound of her name on his tongue. Not sneered, not barked. Spoken like it meant something more than the legend wrapped around it. Like it was hers and not her family's.

She glared at him, forcing her voice not to waver. “And what exactly do you think I was doing, Bodhi? Hiding a secret crush under all that righteous fury?”

His smile spread, crooked and utterly infuriating. “Nah. I think you’re uncomfortable with the idea that you care. That somewhere between hating my guts and tolerating me as your executive officer, I stopped being a Marked One to you. Started being something else.”

Her lips parted, words on the verge of forming but none came. And gods, he saw it. Saw the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. The war she waged against herself in the space of one breath. The way she turned her face slightly as if it would shield her from how exposed she suddenly felt.

“You really are an arrogant bastard,” she said instead, but it lacked venom. It was breathy, uneven. Off her rhythm.

Bodhi leaned in just a hair, his voice low and teasing, but softer now like he knew exactly what line he was walking and liked it.

“And yet here you are. Letting me sit too close. Not barking orders. Not flinching when I get under your skin.” He paused. “Kind of sweet, actually.”

That broke her. Her head snapped to him, eyes sharp with disbelief. “Sweet?”

He grinned, eyes gleaming. “Admit it. You’re going soft.”

“Don’t push your luck, Durran.”

He laughed, full and bright, and something inside her cracked a little further under the sound. Because it wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t mocking. It was honest.

“Too late.”

She hated how the edges of her mouth betrayed her. How she almost smiled. How her fingers clenched around the book in her lap, grounding herself in something tactile, because otherwise she might have leaned into him.

The heat was crawling up her neck now. Slow, traitorous, and unmistakable. She shifted slightly in her seat, fingers tightening around the edge of the book in her lap like it might anchor her back into herself. Back into control. She’d mastered a thousand ways to shut people out. A hundred more to bury what they made her feel. But Bodhi was like water slipping through cracks. Always finding the places she didn’t guard.

She tilted the book upward, hiding behind it even though she wasn’t reading anymore, hadn’t been for several minutes now. Her voice was steadier when she said, “Shouldn’t you be off charming someone else by now? It’s a Friday night. I’m sure there’s at least three first-years still breathless from watching you fight.”

Bodhi didn’t laugh this time. He didn’t tease. He just stayed where he was. His arm still draped across the back of her chair, his shoulder warm beside hers, his presence steady and unshakable. “I’m exactly where I want to be,” he said simply.

The words struck deeper than she wanted them to. No clever tone. No sarcasm. Just honesty, dropped like a pebble into a still pond, rippling through her ribcage in places that had been untouched for far too long.

She lowered the book again, turning her head just enough to look at him out of the corner of her eye and finally closing it. He was watching her again, but the grin had faded into something gentler now. Open, but not demanding. Patient, but not waiting for her to be anything other than what she was.

And gods, that was worse because she knew how to fight insults. Knew how to command, how to discipline, how to dominate a sparring mat. But this? This quiet kind of softness? She didn’t know what to do with it. She didn’t know what to do with him.

“You’re insufferable,” she said again, but this time it was barely a whisper. There was no bite to it. Just breath and uncertainty.

“And yet you haven’t told me to leave,” he replied, voice barely louder than hers.

She opened her mouth to deny it, to say something sharp, to retreat behind the armor that always worked. But it didn’t come. Her breath caught instead. Her lips closed around nothing. And her heart betrayed her with a single, quiet truth: She didn’t want him to go.

He seemed to feel it too. That final surrender she didn’t speak aloud. “Then you better make yourself useful, Durran.” She sighed, rolling her eyes in faux annoyance.

He shifted slightly, and without a word, he leaned just a little closer. Not enough to press, not enough to crowd but enough for his shoulder to brush hers, warm and solid and real. They sat like that for a long while. The silence between them wasn’t tense anymore. It had softened into something fragile and tentative. Something sacred. She kept her eyes forward, but every inch of her was aware of him beside her. Of how still he was now. Of how he didn’t need to say anything else. He just stayed.

And for once, she didn’t push him away. She let herself breathe. Let herself exist in the quiet without flinching from it.

#fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #bodhi fourth wing #bodhi durran #the empyrean series #onyx storm #iron flame #bodhi x reader #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi x you

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auraisereigh · 3 months ago

Text

"A Tale of Ink and Desire"

oneshot

Garrick Tavis x Scribe reader Request: "Coul you write Garrick Tavis x Scribe!Reader oneshot, please? 😍🙏" wc: 5.7k letter count ☆ no specific spoilers. Uses pronouns: she/her. it holds the tinniest bit of suggestivness at the end. A/N: don't feel like its the best piece i've made but i still hope you will enjoy it.

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

Being a scribe at Aretia is different from Basgiath—yet somehow, it's the same.

The air here feels calmer, fresher. There isn't as much tension here as there was in the archives, yet the quiet hum of work remains familiar.

I go through my routine, the same one I’ve built since arriving a few weeks ago.

Mornings start with coffee from the mess hall, then straight to the Riorson House library. A list of book requests usually waits for me—sometimes for riders, sometimes for the assembly. I gather the needed texts and place them in the study before sorting the returns. Some days, we even receive deliveries of completely new books.

Weirdly, that makes me so happy.

Today is one of those days.

I’m carefully shelving returned books when the soft chime of the library’s entrance bell rings. I glance up to see Garrick and Bodhi stepping inside, a cart stacked high with boxes between them.

I offer a polite smile to both men, but my gaze lingers on Garrick—the man who has spent countless late nights with me, whether here among the shelves or outside on the quiet grass field, bringing me food and drinks when I was too lost in my work to remember to eat.

“Good morning,” I greet them as they stop in front of the desk.

“Morning,” they echo back, setting down the boxes.

The moment the first one is placed on the desk, I can’t help myself—I’m already pulling it open, eager to see what’s inside. Garrick chuckles softly at my enthusiasm. I shoot him a small, sheepish grin before turning back to my treasure trove.

Most are just extra copies of textbooks for the cadets. But then, two new ones catch my eye—ones I’ve been waiting weeks for.

The Tyrrish Rebellion: A Forbidden History by Colonel Gerault and Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh.

And Tyrrendor’s Dragon Guide, written by the same Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh.

I quickly unpack them, stacking them neatly. By the time I’m finished, the desk is surrounded by orderly piles and the remaining boxes are off to the side.

“Thank you,” I say, glancing between Bodhi and Garrick.

Bodhi offers me one of his usual soft smiles, but Garrick’s gaze stays fixed on mine. Something knowing flickers in Bodhi’s expression as he looks between us, and I feel heat creep up my neck.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Bodhi remarks, grinning as he claps Garrick on the shoulder before walking off.

Garrick barely reacts, only rolling his shoulders as he watches me. Then, lazily, he laces his fingers behind his head and smirks.

“When are you finished?” he asks casually.

I smile but focus on opening another box. “Sundown.”

A moment later, I feel the warmth of his hand settle lightly against my back. I freeze for just a breath before turning to face him. He’s close—so close I can feel his body heat, his breath mingling with mine.

“I’ll pick you up,” he murmurs, his lips a whisper away from mine.

My breath catches. Judging by the smirk that tugs at his mouth, he notices.

♤

The rest of the day crawls by unbearably slow.

It always does whenever Garrick tells me in advance that he’ll be waiting for me.

I’ve spent the last hour at my desk, all my tasks finished, absorbed in one of the newly arrived books. My robe’s hood is pulled up, an attempt to cocoon myself in solitude. It almost works—until the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls me from my trance.

I glance up—and regret it instantly.

Garrick leans against the desk, looking unfairly good. He always does, but something about seeing him in a short-sleeved black shirt nearly undoes me. The way the fabric stretches over his arms, the dark relic curling along his skin...

“You wanna keep staring, or are we leaving?” His voice is laced with amusement.

I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. Everyone stares at his arms, right?

“Is there an option for both?” I muse, still very much admiring his muscles.

He chuckles, extending his arm. I sigh, shut the book neatly, and stand—smoothing out my robe before slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow.

The walk through Riorson House is peaceful.

I grew up in Morraine province, never imagining I’d one day walk through halls like these. Tyrrendor’s history, its culture—so much of it was erased, forbidden. But here, it lingers in the smallest details. I see it in the carvings along the walls, the woven tapestries, the symbols etched into stone.

We step outside into the open field, where the grass is still a brilliant green, flowers blooming vibrantly under the golden evening light. Butterflies drift lazily through the air, undisturbed by the world beyond this quiet pocket of peace.

We settle on the grass, and Garrick pulls a few food containers from his bag—fresh fruits, vegetables, pastries, and, to my delight, chocolate cookies. This is becoming our routine. Sitting together, eating in comfortable silence. He sharpens his daggers; I read. Occasionally, I let myself ramble about a book I’m excited about.

Speaking of which—

I dig into my bag and pull out a book with a soft pink cover, the illustration of a fox and an archer adorning the front.

“I found this while reshelving,” I say, handing it to him before popping a strawberry into my mouth.

Garrick’s fingers skim over the cover. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a fairytale. A girl who was turned into a fox. Her lover is cursed to hunt her down, but they find a way to break the curse.”

His gaze flickers back to mine. “How does it end?”

I shrug, smiling. “I haven’t finished it yet.”

Garrick sets the book aside and leans in, his breath warm against my lips. His hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers tangling gently in my hair.

“It’s been too long since I’ve had you,” he murmurs.

My breath catches. “I know,” I whisper.

His lips brush against mine, soft and teasing at first. It never stays that way.

His hands find my hips, pulling me into his lap with practiced ease. I shift slightly, tugging my hood back up to shield us from wandering eyes. He huffs a laugh, but it doesn’t deter him.

“I read the tagged parts in your romance novels,” he murmurs.

I stiffen. My heart skips a beat. “You did?” I barely breathe out.

He grins—a knowing, wicked grin. “Mmh. Perhaps we should recreate some of those scenes?”

Heat floods my face.

“We definitely should if it makes you blush like that,” he teases.

I don’t reply, just meet his gaze, my silence all the answer he needs.

His grin widens, his grip on me tightening just slightly.

Something tells me it’s going to be a very long night.

♤

#garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #the empyrean #xaden riorson #bodhi durran #xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader

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leviackermanstoes · 3 months ago

Note

PLEASE WRITE SOMETHING FOR XADEN I’M BEGGING🙏🙏🙏(I just love this man more than anything)

IT'S MY TIME TO SHINEEEEEE

-----

Any corner of this earth.

X.riorson x fem!reader

MINORS DNI. Slight violet slander, fluff. Angst, Canon stuff. Xaddy daddy being too sexy. Tairn isn't sgaeyl's mate for the sake of this story. Sorry i love them but I had to.

🍂

The clouds set over Basgiath War College around 7:30, bringing a chill with them and somehow a sense of dread, which i didn't even know was possible. Xaden stood across from me, giving his speech to the first years. He claimed he did it to harden them but I think he's just doing it to scare them the fuck out.

The silvery, white armour i wore gleamed from raindrops. White belts across my waist and hips, a badge on my breastplate of the riorson house symbol made of pure ivory, sat proudly on my chest. I probably looked like some kind of icicle to everyone, and that was almost entertaining.

As xaden finished up, he did the thing with his hand that he does when he wants me close to him. I walked a few steps over to him, now rubbing arms with the fearsome wingleader. He smells like mint and metal and it's so unbelievably addicting that I swear even when he's not around i still smell it in the air.

"See your squad yet?" Xaden leans down to me.

I shake my head. "Not yet. But I've seen a few people I'd like to have on it"

Xaden emits a low, deep chuckle from beside me. my best friend of 13 years was too sexy for his own good, and as I scanned the crowd I saw two first year girls giggling over him, and knew this would be a long day.

"Next!" I called out.

The rain was heavy, and if it had been first year me on parapet, I would've been shaking. With excitement. But everyone here is afraid and I can't say that I blame them.

"Name"

It's a girl with brown to silver hair. She is thin and frail and looks as though she's barely survived the trip here. I pityed her.

"Violet sorrengail"

I poked my head up to get a look at her properly after I ticked her name off the list and saw she was wearing a dragon scale armour that I knew only very little people wore here. "Ah, a sorrengail. You'll do...just fine"

She glances at me before she walks to parapet. I'm not really bothered to ask any more questions or think anymore on it. I know, xaden is down the row a little bit as he does routine checks on the first years. Sometimes, when I look at him for too long, I remember all the things we've been through together, and then it makes me afraid, and I begin to cry because soon nothing will be the same as before.

In the arena, I train the first and second years who celebrate their victory on parapet. I remember back on my first time and smile to myself knowing how it feels. And it feels good.

"Next in the ring is Barlow and sorrengail"

Cruel mix. Sorrengail approaches the ring as does Jack Barlowe from the other end. This almost seems like it could be entertaining, even xaden's group has stopped to watch. Sorrengail was a thin weak girl, and Jack barlowe was a human brick who could crush her skull between two fingers.

"You may begin" I say as I lower my sheet of names.

Xaden has left his group to stand beside me. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

I shake my head.

"No, but what can I do? Besides, she needs it"

Xaden watches, like many other cadets, second and third years too as sorrengail falters before Jack before he lands a hard punch to her stomach making her cough violently as she falls to her knees. A hush falls over the room.

The silver girl stumbles to her feet just as Jack hits her once again, this time on the jaw, before he laces his legs in hers and trips her to the ground. He remains unharmed and standing. Clearly aware he's going to win. Xaden turns his head to me, noticing I am focused on not just Jack but how weak sorrengail is.

"Tap out" Jack growls against sorrengails face as he holds her down on her stomach.

"You yield sorrengail" I announce, and barlowe lays off.

I walk to the ring where sorrengail is still coughing up bile and blood from Jack's assault. "Get up sorrengail" I command.

But she can't, so I kneel down to her instead. "You know why we make you fight above your level?"

She stutters. "N-no, some cruel t-trick?"

I chuckled. "Because you won't always be weak. But not everyone will be weaker than you” As as she lifts her head up, she can only make it to where the golden logo of riorson house sits at my hip. “And we don't always make you train like fools. But you can choose to look that way by your own actions. Now go clean yourself up sorrengail”

I walk back to xaden who has a slight smile on his face. “I must admit I thought it would be me who would kill sorrengail” he turns back to his squad, hot mouth against my ear as he says “but i think only one of us might die this year. You might be the death of me with that attitude”

Xaden leaves, his trail of scent and heat following behind him. There’s absolutely no reason for him to be this sexy.

“Next. tavis and matias”

---

The first years I train over the next few weeks refuse to acknowledge that I can't let them see riorson house. Second year, rider Rhiannon Matias, who is constantly whispering about the logo on my white uniform, is especially stubborn. She thinks i can't hear it when she rumors i am sleeping with xaden from across the arena, but when i call her up to fight on the ring, she has no doubt seen me roll the sleeve up on my white shirt and realised i’ve heard everything. As the girl approaches the ring, the look in her eyes is almost apologetic.

“Do you enjoy spreading rumors, cadet matias?”

She doesn't look at me.

“Answer me”

“No, wingleader”

“Mmm, that’s what I thought. Get into position cadet” i set up stance, my left foot behind my right, both fists in the air in front of me. Matias is sloppy, but not bad.

“Do you know the first rule about fighting cadet?”

“Always have a plan,” she says confidently.

“Close”

I swing my fist. As she goes to catch it, I swing my leg at her knee, spinning her around and to the ground where I pin her down. All within seconds, I proved not every move is truthful. “First rule to win a fight is to never let your opponent know your next move” I announce as I help Matias to her feet.

“Should you ever find yourself in this arena talking about me like you were, I will not hesitate to have you expelled cadet. Am I clear?”

“Crystal” she nods before I dismiss them all.

I hear claps as xaden walks up to the ring. He's smiling. He's actually smiling. "Glad to see you're not so rusty"

I tuck strands of my hair behind me ear and stance back up. "What do you say we test that rustiness huh riorson?"

Xaden chuckles. Not the sweet or funny kind, no, this is the kind of chuckle where he's saying my condolences. And unfortunately for me I found that unbearably attractive.

The second and first years around us begin cheering. Most of them because xaden had taken his shirt off. Not that he had to, but he knew how much it distracted me. And I despised that he knew that.

"Regretting all your life choices, xa?" I laughed and swung at him, but he caught it.

"One of us certainly will"

Xaden strikes me in the arm, and I swing back at him in the jaw. I always forget fighting xaden is like wrestling a dragon. I strike at his stomach, getting him in the side. Xaden twists my wrist before I can hit him again and in a swift move he's got my hands behind my back and I am pinned to the floor by his knee.

"Real cute riorson," I groan from below him.

He let's me go, and I stand back up. I can't let myself be intimidated by him. He's my best friend. He's my best friend. He's my best friends best friend. Shit, gods bless Garrick tavis.

I swing at xaden, who catches my arm agin, this time, I slide myself through his legs and grab them both on my way, knocking him down with a thud. I kneel at his head with a smirk.

"Not too untouchable, xa." I smiled at him.

Staring down at him, I hate how's stupidly gorgeous he is. His stupid gleaming tan skin, his stupid smile, stupidly crystalline eyes, and don't even get me started on the body. Xaden has always been too perfect for his own good. Too beautiful to be scary. He's never been scary to me although he's tried.

And I couldn't argue that, in a sense, xaden was almost like a husband to me. Obviously not literally, but I've spent so much of my life with him and seen so much of him that i might as well be his wife.

---

A month passes without any issue. I hear that xaden has taken up training the sorrengail girl, who bonded two dragons. I may not like her, but that's a pretty big deal. But the real possibility that xaden is fading from me is becoming true. Like I knew he would one day.

He doesn't talk to me unless werr in the same room and he doesn't reply to my letters anymore. If he had been anywhere else, I could've understood, but he was training his enemy just 6 feet away from me. Yawn.

It's only then when I see Garrick walking towards me. He strides right past xaden and directly to me, which is odd. The metal on his clothes clicks as he sits down.

"What is it tavis?"

"You know yours and xadens dragons have been non-stop rubbing on each other? It's weird" Garrick shivers.

It would've been funny if it hadn't been for the fact that our dragons werent bonded. It's not unusual for unbonded dragons to be overly affectionate, but this seemed more like a cry for attention.

I stood up and walked to xaden, where I informed him of everything. I expected him to care, but what i didn't expect.

"I'm a little busy right now"

Was that.

"Too busy for your own dragon? Xaden-"

"I said I'm busy!"

The tone in his voice strikes me right in the centre of my heart.

"You don't have to be such a dick about it." Garrick steps in, but it's not enough defence to block off xaden.

Nothing quite is.

"Im sorry, I'll finish up here and ill-"

"No." I say. "You've made it perfectly clear where your loyalties now lie"

Before xaden gets another word in, I'm already walking towards the dragons with tavis, and somewhere along the way, I collect mairi and durran. The only thing I missed was xaden riorson.

Thunder pounded the college, rains battering the stone walls. Still, I found myself outside carving into the fountain with a small stick, bored out of my mind. The tears have since been washed away by rain and I am now red from cold not from upset.

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

It's xaden. He's wearing a black tee shirt and leather pants. I'd say he must be cold but xaden is never fucking cold. It's kind of annoying.

"I'm bored can't you tell?"

"Can you not do that inside? It's freezing out here!"

I'm not replying to his concerns. For it feels like he has none anymore.

"What is going on with you?!" He yells over the thunder.

"Me?! What's going on with you!" I stand up.

"What changed that made you so far from me?!" Xadens fists are white.

He's so pissed off that I almost feel sorry for having feelings and emotions like I do.

"You did!" The statement is short but powerful enough that the next lightning strike doesn't begin to compare to how that felt.

"People change! Why is this such a crisis for you!"

"YOU WERENT SUPPOSED TO CHANGE!"

It's then when I can now feel the difference between rain and tears as my eyes well up again and I am sat back down on the fountains edge with my head in my hands as I get soaked from rain.

"What is this about? I can't help you if you dont let me"

Xaden is now kneeling before me.

"I just wanted you to stay the same"

"Is this about sorrengail?"

Even her name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I suppose this is actually going to happen now. I'm actually going to tell xaden 13 years of built up feelings based upon one tiny thing that keeps me sane.

"No xaden, it's about you. Fuck it's always been about you, I've never felt so strongly about anyone before in my whole life and now I'm losing the one person who I thought felt the same"

Xaden lift my head up to look at him. His touch has never been so light and gentle. He almost makes me feel like a feather.

"You aren't losing me"

"I already have"

Xaden shakes his head and pulls me into his chest. The rain has made his clothes cold and wet but I don't care about it. Or anything now.

"There is nothing on this earth that could take me from you." he kisses the top of my forehead.

"So why did you refuse to come with me when I was going to the dragons?:

"Because I already knew what was going on. And i didn't want to be there when you found out"

I couldn't believe any of this.

"That our dragons are bonded?"

"Yes," he nods.

"This changes so much xa"

"It might. But I'm not going to change again. I am yours so much as you are mine"

#xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson #xaden riorson smut #fourthwing #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #violet sorrengail #liam mairi #rhiannon matthias

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abiatackerman · 1 year ago

Text

Interrupted by brats

The air in the mess hall cracks with tension as Jean and Eren square off. Their fists fly, and the other scouts gather around, placing bets and cheering like it is some twisted spectator sport. Mikasa’s stoic expression betrays her amusement, while Sasha bites on a potato, her eyes wide with excitement.

But then, the doors swing open as Levi and you step in. The entire scene freezes. Even the birds outside seemed to hold their breath. Levi's glare can melt steel, and the room temperature drops by a few degrees.

"Brats......"

He mutters, his voice is like a blade slicing through the chaos.

"What the hell is this nonsense?"

Eren and Jean stumble apart immediately and you sigh. They straighten their uniforms, faces showing pure fear as they avoid eye contact with their captain.

Levi doesn't waste time. He kicks Jean's abdomen, since he was the one who started the fight. Then he kicks Eren's ass hard making him stumble forward.

"You want to fight? Fine. I'll give you a reason to regret it."

His knuckles crack ominously and you sigh.

Levi's really pissed today. You just told him that you're leaving for a week since your dad has become sick and you haven't visited your family for a while. He's pissed thinking that it's gonna be a damn long annoying week without you. Just when you two were about to kiss, Historia rushes to Levi's office to inform him about the fight. Levi is pissed about the interruption and now here he is, beating them up.

"Captain, I...."

Jean tries to speak but Levi stops him.

"Shut up!" Levi snaps. "And you, Jaeger."

He turns to Eren, who stands there massaging his ass.

"You're not innocent either. Next time you want to throw punches, do it in private. Got it?"

Eren nods so vigorously that his head may detach from his neck.

"Y-yes, sir!"

Levi stares at him for a while then looks at you again. You can tell by his looks he's thinking about punishing them. Your face softens as you look at Jean's and Eren's nervous faces, feeling sympathy for them.

"Both of you will clean this hall everyday for this whole week. One more fight and I'll increase the area of your cleaning also add daily laps to your lazy assed routine. Now all of you, out!"

Levi orders in his pissed tone as everyone rushes out of the hall. They all are relieved that Levi has just punished Eren and jean. Not them.

"Don't you think you are being too strict?"

You ask as the cadets leave the hall.

"I mean this hall is huge... Cleaning it every day is tough by only two people."

You say softly as Levi walks towards you.

"Though their behaviours are shitty they have loyal friends. I bet they all will clean it together."

He says as he grabs your chin.

"You're just too kind, angel. They'll be fine, don't worry."

You nod and remove his hand from your face and hug him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"You know? You looked so sexy and hot when you were beating them up. Everyone was looking at you with fear and you were the strongest intimidating leader, also your commanding voice... I did feel bad for them but... Shit... I'm fucking turned on."

Levi chuckles as his face is pressed against your head and he sniffs your sweet smell. His one hand wraps around your neck and the other one plays with your hair.

"Tch... You have a weird choice, but I'm not complaining."

He speaks in an amusing tone and removes his head from your hair to look at your face. He cups your face, his expression is soft with affection as he kisses your forehead.

"Just be safe for the week, ok? And make sure to come back to me unscarred."

He speaks, his voice full of affection. You chuckle.

"Even if I get in trouble, I'll use the combats you taught me. I'll be fine, don't worry."

You say smiling cheekily as Levi's eyes soften again. Your smile is his greatest weakness, he can't help but melt every time he sees it. And when he knows he's the reason behind it, his mind overflows with ecstasy.

He leans down and presses his lips softly against yours. You hum and close your eyes as you grip his shirt, only to feel his thumping heartbeat against your palm. His thumbs caress your cheeks as your lips move in a slow, soft and rhythmic way.

Just when Levi's tongue gently brushes against your lower lips and you are about to part your lips, suddenly, the mess hall's door swings open. Sasha and Connie stumble in, revealing Eren, Jean, Armin and Mikasa behind them. They freeze, cheeks flushed, eyes wide, as if caught in a forbidden act.

"Errr... Captain... we..."

Sasha tries to speak nervously, her cheeks pink.

"We were just..... Looking for the potato Sasha left behind."

Armin speaks shyly, his face flushed red. You try to suppress your smile as you look at the pissed expression on Levi's face.

"You shits were spying on us? What were you brats looking at? Never saw a man and woman kissing before?"

Levi speaks in a calm tone but you know he's fuming inside. Everyone turns red at his words, even Mikasa blushes.

"Eren and Jean will clean this mess hall, alone! And you all shits will clean the whole field. I'll check your work in the afternoon. If I see even a single darnel picking out of the grass, I swear I'll kick your lazy asses. As for the girls, you all will run 50 laps and no food until you clean your shits up. Mark my words!"

Levi speaks firmly as their eyes widened. You look at them sympathically as Sasha seems like she is about to cry.

"OUT!"

Levi says in a slightly louder tone than usual making them flinch as they rushes out.

"Damn brats. What are they? 10? Bothering us like annoying bugs."

He speaks in a pissed voice as you sigh and hug his neck to calm him down.

"They are just kids, Levi. They probably got curious when Sasha came back here for her potato and caught us kissing. Forgive them."

Levi relaxes in you arms as he starts to kiss your neck.

"Tch, I shouldn't care for them like this when they're this annoying."

You chuckle and tilt your head to let him kiss you. You rub his back.

"You're a great father figure, Levi. They also knows it."

You giggle slightly at the tickling feeling as his breath fans over you neck and his lips keep caressing you skin.

"I'll try to be a good father to our brat too. I won't say shitty words and won't be harsh. I promise."

He mumbles in a low voice as his grip on your waist tightens.

"I know you will, love."

You say softly as he removes his head to look at your face.

"Tch, I'll miss you, smartass..."

He says softly as he kisses your forehead.

"Me too."

You say and he presses his lips against yours again. Though this time you two kiss each other for a long time without any interruptions.

And this time, no brats were peeking on you two either.

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dragonridersandhighlords · 1 month ago

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Hi I love your writing!

Could you do a Bodhi fic where he gets super jealous and possessive? Like you two have a no strings attached FWB (that never works out) so when he sees you talking to another cadet who he finds out is trying to catch your eye he gets pissed. Ultimately confessing he doesn’t want just sex he wants more?

Where There's You and Me | Bodhi Durran

Summary: Tension escalates when the reader grows close to another cadet, Talon, forcing Bodhi to confront his true feelings. In a heartfelt confrontation, the two acknowledge their love, choosing vulnerability over fear and finding rare peace in each other’s arms.

Pairing: Bodhi Durran x Reader

Notes: Short and sweet cause I've been so busy but I wanted to give something!

Warnings: jealousy

Word Count: <1k

Masterlist | FW Masterlist

You are the one place Bodhi could go to forget that Basgiath is designed to kill you.

That first night you hooked up, neither of you made it to bed. Squad Games did not go well for your squad, and you both needed to let off some steam.

So when you started screaming at him for being reckless, Bodhi just watched you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, finally turning to him.

“Because there is nothing I want more right now than to make you shut up right now.” He says as he presses his lips to yours.

No feelings, you said. No attachments, no expectations.

Keep it simple, keep it quiet, and survive.

Always slips out before dawn. No cuddling, no morning-after regrets and leave like none of it matters—like you haven’t memorized the shape of his hands on your skin, like he don’t hear your voice in every quiet moment between drills.

Bodhi knows he should’ve ended it the minute he realized he wanted more, that there were feelings. But he didn’t–couldn’t–because he’d rather have stolen nights and silence than nothing at all.

Then him.

Talon. Confident, charming, all flash and no depth—but you laugh when he talks to you. It’s the one you used to give Bodhi when he teased you or made some smart-ass comment during briefing.

Now Talon gets it.

He gets your eyes. Your attention. Your smile.

And Bodhi gets distance.

You stop showing up after training. You barely look at him at meals. Bodhi tries to tell himself it doesn’t matter. That it was supposed to be casual. That you’re not his to lose. But when he sees you laughing with Talon—too close, too comfortable—something inside him snaps.

Bodhi finds you in the gym just after sunset, sweat-slick and beautiful in a way that makes his chest ache.

“You having fun with him?” He asks before he can stop himself.

“What?” You ask, continuing with your routine.

“Talon.” He shrugs, leaning against the wall. “You two seem pretty close.”

You scoff, ripping off your wraps and tossing them into your bag. “Jealous much, Durran?”

“I didn’t know the rules changed,” He says, creeping closer. “Didn’t know we could shop around.”

Your expression hardens. “And?” Your back meets the wall as he gets closer.

“Tell me it never meant anything.” You freeze. “Tell me I imagined it every time you stayed a little longer than you had to. That I’m the only one who notices the way your hands shake when you think I’m hurt. Tell me this was just sex.”

“I can’t,” you whisper.

“Good because I don’t want just your body,” I say. “I want you. All of it. All the messy, maddening, brave, infuriating parts of you. And yeah, it scares the shit out of me.”

You step into him, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. Your fingers brush his wrist—light at first, then firm. Like you're afraid he’ll disappear if you don’t hold on. “I tried to fight it,” you say. “I thought it would be easier to just entertain someone else but…”

“It’s always been you,” He murmurs, “and me. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone the way I want you.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, and it’s the closest thing to peace either of you felt in months.

That night, you stay. There’s no sex, there's only you and him and the quiet.

You fall asleep in his arms for the first time without a rush, without an exit strategy. And he lies there, heart pounding like he’s just ran the Gauntlet again, whispering into her hair:

“You were never just a way to feel alive. You are the reason I breathe.”

Everything Taglist: @lxnvmvrzx @bodhidurrans @bookwormysblog @nikfigueiredo @fictionalrelapse

#iron flame #fourth wing #onyx storm #the empyrean #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing fanfic #bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi durran angst #bodhi durran imagine #bodhi durran fic

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manasastuff-blog · 10 months ago

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youtube

Daily Routine of Cadet National Defence Academy#nda#daily#routine#trending#national#defence Dive into the Daily Routine of Cadet National Defence Academy and uncover what a typical day looks like for aspiring defense professionals. This video takes you through the rigorous schedule, training regimens, and unique experiences of cadets. Whether you're considering a career in the National Defence Academy or just curious about military life, this detailed breakdown will provide insights and answers. Join us as we explore the demanding yet rewarding life inside one of India’s premier defense institutions. Don’t miss out on this exclusive look into the daily discipline and dedication that shapes future leaders!

Call:7799799221

Website:www.manasadefenceacademy.com

#DailyRoutine, #CadetLife, #NationalDefenceAcademy, #MilitaryTraining, #DefenseCareer, #AcademyLife, #CadetRoutine, #IndianArmy, #NDA, #MilitaryAcademy

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lundenloves · 2 years ago

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@bringinsexybackk69: can i please request dad simon with a boy? like yeah he has all his girls and then there's either the youngest or the oldest and it's his only son? i can just picture like the girls are jealous cause he gets new clothes not hand-me-downs, he gets to do his own sports with out his siblings, he gets to go shooting with the 141- just like totally sibling rivalry and fighting over who is dads favorite?!

youngest.

simon is over the fucking moon when he finds out it's a boy - he's one of them dads in american gender reveals who says “i think you're a girl but i need you to be a boy" 💀

instant attention all goes to this kid, because A) he actually knows how to do it now and B that's his boy. that's his fuckin lad.

the kid looks like you. boys look like their mums, girls look like their dads n all that but christ does he have simon's quietness.

a complete observer like his dad. will be in silence while the girls argue, quietly exchanging glances with simon who internally feels like fucking high-fiving himself for creating a kid who finally understands him.

however the clothes are admittedly down to you, you love buying shit. any excuse. and having a son instead of another girl gave you great reason. though you did go too far sometimes. credit card bills rocketed.

he gets his own room too. straight off the bat, fresh into this fucking world and he's got it all. or that's how your daughters seen it.

“how does he get everything."

“give him a fucking chance." mumbling something about how he's only a week old. the dad sigh strikes again.

him and simon fuck off together a lot. they'll be away camping somewhere, simon teaching this (probably half uninterested) kid how to do all the survival stuff since his girls were never interested.

and when he gets older, maybe around seventeen to eighteen he's so game for that stuff. realistically, was probably in the school cadets n all 💀

when he's able enough, he'll maybe tag along on a run with 141 or summat. this is an incredibly humbling experience to say the least, though uncle soap is there to make everything a laugh n slow the run. "boys, boys, give the lad a chance eh?"

gets into his dads routine of the gym in mornings too, simon watching his workout from a distance before giving him pointers - hands on hips before stepping back to see if he's doing it right or not.

although, simon does not let him apply to the army. all fun n games till it wants to happen isn't it padre?

probably applies behind simon's back ngl. resulting in a huge fuck off argument once a letter comes in stamped under british army branding under the kids name instead of his own. yikes.

classic son x father shouting match.

i’m probably going to get asked to write that now aren’t i? happily, gladly, don’t get me wrong. sorry i haven’t been writing much but i do enjoy talking to you lot in the inbox.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob @spencerreidisbae123 @ellies-girll @paperbag-prncs @cookiecutta @sluttyforsimon

#simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley headcanons #dad!simon #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley headcanons

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airandangels · 22 days ago

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Thank you so much for spending the time I was not at the time prepared to do. I’m glad it provided some diversion during your trip!

#‘we’ll just use one of their city names’#personally i think betty melbourne has a better ring to it #betty brisbane sounds like a comic book character though #a plucky cadet reporter who discovers something big on what was meant to be a routine assignment

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diejager · 1 year ago

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I've been reading the Stepfather! Konig fic and I had just an idea. What if to get away and feel at least some safety reader fakes their death and joins the military with many fake names and constantly changes up themself to keep safe and away from König and Horangi?

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, military, recruitment, enlisting, military inaccuracies, tell me if I missed any.

Where was the best place to hide? The last place they would look, right under their nose. You managed - somehow - to keep your papers a secret from them, you were lucky they dealt with things online on encrypted servers, keeping it as hush-hush as possible. Fortunately, there weren’t many requirements for enlisting, all they had asked was your age, level of education and citizenship, some vague papers about you and that was all. You bode your time, leaning on your freedom when you left the house to hit the gym to get a head start in your training, pack a bit of muscle and get into a tight routine to get used to it before you joined; and buying the few things you’d need to build you stage with the few materials and story you made up.

You were prepared when the time came, just a week before your training and your body thrummed with adrenaline and anxiety, slowly finishing off your plan. And when the time was right, you struck, vanishing with the car that you drove into the lake, you made sure that it was deep enough to be left untouched until you had at least finished your training. It was a stroke of luck, sheer luck that you made it to the base, flashing your papers and given a permit to meet the major of the base to receive your identification once you passed the examinations and interview.

“Welcome to hell, cadet!” Were the first words you heard in the mass, dressed in the black and white uniform of the navy you stood ramrod with others beside you.

They separated men and women in the early stages of training, once the selections were done, they’d mix both sex and leave them to train and learn together. It was a gruelling process, the physical and mental exhaustion of it all almost made you crash more than once, mind on the brink of frustration and muscles worn into painful bruises. You’d seen friends - made through nights of venting and moaning about life - and acquaintances quit early or halfway through the training and education. They were weeding out the weaker ones, the less competent and determined from the rest. You feared being picked of quitting, but you powered through it, all your blood, sweat and tears culminated to your graduation nearly eleven weeks later.

You could stand with pride in yourself, head held high as you received your praises from the major, his rough voice echoing through the room in congratulations. You took your oaths and were given a white uniform and a hat, the black cap and gold encrusted hat that gleamed under the sun. You were proud; you were happy; you felt accomplished and free. You thought of flying, to be and feel as free as the birds that soar the skies, perhaps you’d join the aviation branch of the Navy. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea, to be moved and passed around wherever you were needed, never staying in one place made finding you much harder if König and Horangi found your bluff.

But you’d gone so far, done so much to take things back or be taken back. You’d accomplished something with what little you had and you knew- You knew that your mother would be so proud of you for persevering.

“I miss you, mom,” you kissed the sole picture of your mother, the only thing you thought worth keeping, “I’m sorry, I miss you.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig cod #horangi #horangi mw2 #horangi x reader #tw: dark content #dark content #tw: dubcon #tw: non con #dead dove do not eat #tw: stepcest #Stepdad!konig #Stepdad!könig #Dbf!horangi

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importantstudentbusinessspy-blog · 8 months ago

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Reunion - Friends

Masterlist

Pairing: Dick Grayson x (f)reader

Tags: SFW, platonic, friends, jealousy, feelings, blood, death, crime, guilt

It's been a week since your embarrassing parting with Dick. Since then, you threw yourself into your work and studies. It was difficult to rip yourself away at first, but the longer you kept at it, the easier the routine became. Each day became structured, starting with the gym, then classes, studying, and your internship. On top of that, you and your friends always had something planned for weekends or evenings, so you were seldom bored as you were kept plenty busy.

The routine drew you back to your old self, the one that was comfortable and wasn't concerned about the intentions or treatments of some man. It felt great!

Today, you were attending your first jury duty selection. You fixed the collar of your blouse and flattened your palms down your blazer, then skirt, taking one last look in the mirror before exiting the bathroom. You were still going over the transcripts of your case as you made your way to the courtroom, not careful of where you were going. As a result, you bumped into a hard wall of muscle. "Mph!" You blinked a couple of times, adjusting to your surroundings. "Sorry!"

Said wall turned around to face you. He wore a brown leather jacket over a black t-shirt, with his detective badge tucked on the side of his belt. And he smelled like old spice, all six feet three inches of him. Your friend Tony smirked down at you. "Sup dude?"

He started law school with you and then transfered to the police academy when he decided he wanted a more "hands on" approach to fighting crime.

You grinned up at him brightly, opening your mouth, ready to greet an old friend. But then you remembered where you were and composed your festures quickly. "Good morning, Detective Ericso-"

"Oh, don't give me that shit." Tony groaned before puling you into a bear hug. "I'm off duty. Plus, I'm still a cadet."

"Well," you looked down at your now disheveled outfit. "I'm not off duty. So I have to be Profesional." Then you smiled excitedly. "I have my first jury duty selection today."

"No shit." He snapped his fingers in an exaggerated way. "Look at you, miss lawyer!"

"I know," you channeled Monica from friends as you couldn't help but grin at him. He was always a ball of energy.

"Listen, a couple of friends are meeting at Richmond's tonight for a beer. Come with us." He said.

"I..." you began to think of your plans in the evening and came up short. "Okay, I'm free. What time."

He rolled his eyes. "Around eight. And as if you had any plans to begin with, you studious loser."

You raised your arm to smack his, but then you made eye contact with an important looking man in a suit and lowered it again. "Eight. That's when i finish my day. I'll see you there! I gotta go now."

"You better!" You heard him say as you opened the door and stepped into the courtroom.

The couple of friends Tony had mentioned turned out to be two young cadets and Dick grayson.

You froze for a mere second when you walked in through the familiar doors of the bar. It was odd, yiu realized. You expected to feel a pang of something upon seeing him, but... you felt something mild. It was not pain, just... acknowledgement. Tony spotted you and waved you over. When Dick followed his friends' gaze to you, he offered you a shy smile. Surprisingly, you were very comfortable offering him one back.

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Dick smiled suggestively at you, tilting his head in the direction of the bar. "That guys been eyeing you since we sat down."

You, along with the rest of the table, turned to see who he was talking about.

At the bar, facing your table, a group of young men in suits sat drinking beers. Finance guys, by the looks of them. Not exactly the Bruce Wayne high fashion enterage, but they could have been consultants for a big firm. One of them - a cute blond with gelled hair - saught your gaze and gave you a small nod before raising his bottle to his lips. The gesture made you smile back before turning back to the group. "He's cute."

"Go talk to him." One of the other cadets, Anna, gave you a light nudge.

"Nahh." Dick drawled, leaning back in his seat. "She doesn't have to. The guy's making his way over here right now."

And surely enough, a moment later, the blond suit showed up to your table, clearing his throat. You looked up and met his gaze.

"Is this seat taken?" He asked you, glancing to the open chair beside you.

You shook your head.

"Lucky me." The blond grinned a charming grin and sat down beside you. He had a gorgeous pair of green eyes, a chiseled jaw peppered in a three day stubble and beautiful full lips that seemed really kissable. You looked down at your heart, wondering if you were really that much of a lightweight so as to be so affected by a man.

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Dick was happy.

He was happy you were comfortable around one another again. Happy your could talk to each other and laugh together. Most importantly, he was happy that you were happy. He watched you and the finance bro chat and laugh to each other, smiling at one another's jokes, exchanging contacts. Finance bro began to brush your knee with his fingers as his gaze became a little bit more heated.

You didn't seem to mind, Dick noticed. In fact, if the slight blush on your cheeks was any indication, you enjoyed the attention. You offered him a timid smile, biting down on your bottom lip.

Dick felt his smile falter.

Oh no.

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You laughed into your wineglass as your friend Tony reached to give Dick a light smack upside the head. Dick dodged at the last minute, and Tony missed.

"Dicky, how is it possible that after that many years on Earth you've never seen Harry Potter?!" Tony asked, incredulous.

Dick shook his index finger in return. "Na uh, you don't get to judge. You haven't seen Love, Actually -"

You smiled to yourself. Of course Dick Grayson was a love, actually enjoyer. You pictured him watching the romcom and tearing up at the emotional scenes.

"Dear god!" Tony dropped his head into his hands. "Apples to oranges, man! Y/n, help me out here - oh yeah. I forgot you're busy being in love."

"You're so dramatic." You murmmered, looking at your phone. "I'm literally emailing my prof."

"Oh? A contender for finance, bro?" Dick raised his brow suggestively.

"Wouldn't you like to know." You smirked. "And 'finance bros' name is Eric."

Dick raised his hands in mock surrender for in truth. He really didn't care. He also didn't like that you called finance bro by his name. He was finance, bro. A faceless fuck. Not Eric, some guy whose name, personality and life you possibly knew.

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Dick was ready to knock Tony out if he mentioned finance boy one more time. He sat on your apartment floor, wearing an ugly Christmas sweater that you knitted him as his secret Santa.

Tony sat gleefully in his hanukah sweater that your friend got for him. He was positively drunk when he raised his half finished glass of beer and announced. "I have an announcement."

The rest of the people at your apartment went quiet, patiently waiting for Tony's next words.

The young man smiled, opened his mouth to speak, and let out a long burp. The room burst into groans and murrmers of disgust.

Dick was too busy receiving an emergency alert into his earpiece.

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Dick arrived at the bank just as the day surrendered to the night. The sky above Gotham was tinged in dark blue as the bank’s alarms blared into the street.

"I’m at the location, Oracle," he murmured into his comm.

"Roger that," Barbara’s voice came through. "Security cameras show several men in ski masks inside."

"Copy." he replied, scaling the building in silence. He scanned the scene through a window: two civilians - a mother clutching her child - and a bank teller stood cowering in the corner as the masked robbers rifled through drawers.

"Need any backup?" Tim’s voice cut in.

"Negative, Baby-bird. This’ll be quick," Dick replied, his voice steady. "Enjoy your Christmas eve."

"God, he's so sappy." His brother, Jason, groaned into the comm.

"Police are en route, Nightwing," Barbara updated.

"Thanks."

He took out his batons and moved into action, precise and controlled. This was second nature - an exercise he could do in his sleep. Within moments, he had incapacitated the leader and taken down the four remaining men, who barely had a chance to react. In under a minute, every robber was either knocked out or tied up. Just as Oracle said, the police cars pulled up a moment later. Armed officers running into the bank, followed by a stoic commissioner Gordon walking in.

"Oracle, any more assailants?" Nightwing asked, breathing a little harder as he led the mother and teller toward the exit, carrying the giggling child in his arms. The little boy poked his chubby finger against Dick’s cheek, and despite the situation, Dick found himself smiling, cooing gently to reassure him.

Then, a gunshot shattered the air. Dick froze, his heart plummeting as a horrible, familiar dread took over.

"No!" he gasped, handing the child back to his mother before sprinting toward the sound.

As he rounded the corner, he saw it: one of the police officers lay in a spreading pool of blood, a discarded gun a foot away from a handcuffed robber. The scene played out, each detail sinking deep into his mind. He couldn’t look away. But... how? He's either tied or knocked all of them out!

He stumbled to Commissioner Gordon, who was kneeling beside the officer, hands trembling slightly as he took in the fatal wound.

"Is he…" Dick’s voice caught.

Gordon stood, his expression etched with grief. Slowly, he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, drawing in a heavy breath. "He’s gone, son."

The weight of those words felt like a punch to the gut, hollowing Dick out from the inside. This was what he fought against, what he trained his entire life to prevent - and tonight, he had failed. Despite every life he’d saved, it hadn’t been enough.

Hours later, Dick trudged back to his apartment, feeling like a ghost. The image of the fallen officer haunted him, replaying every step of the night until it blurred with exhaustion and guilt.

As he opened his fridge and reached for a beer, Batman’s voice came through his comm, quiet and firm. "Nightwing. What happened tonight wasn’t your fault."

"Yes, sir," he replied, swallowing against the lump in his throat, the words barely audible.

“Dick… I've gone over your body cam. You did a good job incapacitating them. It was just bad luck." Bruce’s voice softened.

"I know," he whispered, his grip on the bottle tightening.

A heavy silence hung between them before Bruce added, “Get some rest.”

The comm went silent, and Dick felt something inside him finally break. The weight of his grief, the frustration, the helplessness - all of it spilled over as he sank to the floor, alone in the dark, and let himself cry.

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