#fourth wing imagines

[theseinfernalangels]

Kiss It Better? — Sawyer Henrick

Synopsis: Sawyer comes back from sparring in need of a little TLC (Mender!Reader).

A/N: The voices got too loud. I’m giving myself the responsibility for filling up the Sawyer tag since my boy doesn’t have that many fics for some odd reason. A little bit suggestive, but not enough to warrant a huge warning.

     With a heavy thud, you slam your textbook shut and groan into the silence of your empty room. You loved Violet Sorrengail, truly, but her commitment to studying books from front to back was honestly excruciating. For such a small woman, she had huge brain, and even bigger patience when it came to historical academia.

     You could not relate. You’d rather re-memorize the muscular system than read another Brief History of Navarre excerpt. You silently curse your boyfriend, Sawyer, for making that pact with Violet last year — to teach her combat in exchange for the more academic classes. Sure, her knowledge kept the Iron Squad (and, by extension, you) afloat, but if you looked at another map of Navarre’s evolving borders, you’d just about lose it.

    You pause. Wait. Speaking of which…Where was your aforementioned boyfriend? He usually stopped by your room at least once a day, just to see you and give you some much-needed loving, but you’d only seen a glimpse of him in the morning before he had to go and do his Executive Officer duties. You weren’t necessarily a clingy person, but…You missedhim. Like, a lot. Maybe it was because it was almost that time of the month, or maybe because you’d gotten so used to seeing him all the time — you weren’t exactly sure.

     Your dragon, Cridhe, lets out an amused rumble. “Never have I heard you yearn for the Russet One’s company so hard.”

     Your lips droop into an indignant pout. “I’m not yearning,” you argue. “I just…Oh, dammit. You’re right. I’m pathetic, Cridhe. I miss him.”

     Cridhe snorts. “Pathetic isn’t necessarily the word I’d use, Ciúin. Perhaps infatuated. Definitely not pathetic.”

     He abruptly adds, “Trust me, I’ve seen plenty of pathetic humans in my time. You being oddly clingy to the Russet One is just you being a young woman.”

     You raise an eyebrow. Trust your own dragon to reduce your love into girlhood. “You sound like my dad.”

     Cridhe barks out a laugh. “I can assure you, I do not sound like Major Callahan. I think I’d need to have a little more audacity to my character.”

     Before you can respond, there’s a familiar knock at your door. Two long knocks and then a short one, followed by what sounds like the rapping of a single finger against the wood. Your special knock. Sawyer.

     I really need to figure out how to modify the wards so he can just walk in himself, you think as you slide off your bed and swing your door open. You’re met with tired but amused eyes as Sawyer leans against the side of your door, patiently waiting for you to pull him in. You open your mouth to greet him cheerfully — the literal sight of him has boosted your mood tremendously — before you falter.

     “Were you…sparring?” you ask, tilting your head. He’s got a split lip, and bruises seem to trail over his neck and under his shirt. It’s nothing new, but it definitely alarms you.

     His soft smile warms your heart. “Yeah. Seems like that one girl in your squad, Holt, had it out for Aetos earlier. She decided to use me as her personal punching bag.”

     You snort, grabbing his hand and yanking him into your room. “Not surprised. Those two have got issues.”

     Sawyer closes the door behind him and wastes no time in settling on your bed. At the beginning of your relationship, he would have just stood awkwardly in the corner and waited for you to tell him that, Yes, you’re fine, you can sit. Now, though, he’s less hesitant and just plops down, looking at you expectantly.

     Another great thing about Sawyer Henrick: He was just as clingy as you.

     You practically float over to him, climbing on to his lap and throwing your arms around him. You tuck your face into his neck and breathe in his scent — woodsy, with the slightest hint of vanilla — and sigh. “Missed you.”

     His chest rumbles gently as he laughs. “So I heard. Sliseag told me so.”

     Your eyebrows furrow for a moment. How would Sawyer’s dragon know you missed him?

     “Oh,” you huff quietly when you connect the dots. “Dammit, Cridhe.”

      Your dragon’s silence practically confirms his guilt. Sawyer laughs a little harder at your ensuing complaints. “It’s alright, darling. I missed you, too. I didn’t get to see you earlier.”

     You draw back enough to face him and actually look at him. In the dying sunlight, he looks ethereal. Even with a split lip and bruised skin, the sun makes his hair look more orange, and his freckles stand out in the light. If you weren’t so tired, you’d count every single one of them and then retrace your steps about five times over.

     “It’s okay,” you reply, tracing his features with a single finger. “That just means you get to stay here longer.”

     The wince he looses when your finger brushes over his lips doesn’t make it past you. “Sore?”

     He nods and then averts his gaze. When he looks back to you, you notice that his cheeks have turned a little pink. “…Kiss it better?” he queries, his voice a little hesitant. It seems old mannerisms die hard, especially for a shy boy like him.

     Fortunately for you, you were dying to get your lips on him anyway. You study his bruises for a moment, your eyes trailing down to his neck. Yeah, sundown was definitely his time; he looked utterly divine despite his skin being marred with flecks of purple. Your finger snags the edge of his shirt, pulling it down to expose more bruising. You meet his eyes for a moment, his pupils slightly dilated and sparkly as ever. Cute.

     You lean down, brushing your lips against his neck and allowing your signet to ignite and soothe the skin of his throat. His breath catches, his fingers gripping your waist a little harder at the heated rush that sings against his skin.

     “Not what I had in mind,” he murmurs, his words a little shaky, “but…Damn, darling. You’re something else, aren’t you, sweet girl?”

     You smile against his neck as you keep moving your lips up and around the damaged skin, shifting your thighs slightly as you lean closer to him. “Not really,” you hum against his skin. “You’re just sensitive sometimes.”

     He can’t — and doesn’t — argue with you. He barely opens his mouth in fear of any soft noises escaping him as you kiss up his throat, Mending his bruises little by little as you go. You’re not sure where this desire of yours came from; maybe it’s because you haven’t seen Sawyer for a little longer than you’d like, or maybe it’s because he just looks too good like this, or maybe it’s because you’re not too great at shielding yet and Cridhe is quite the romantic dragon. You’re not sure, but you’re egged on by the feeling of rough fingertips scraping against the hem of your shirt, threatening to dip under to the skin of your stomach if you continue.

     You suddenly get a bright idea. 

     Pausing in your movements, you ask him, “Sawyer? Did you miss me, too?”

     He barely registers your question, his eyes glued shut and his mind swimming in the velvet sensation of your lips on him. He cracks an eye open, though, once you speak, his voice breaking slightly. 

     “Of course I did, darling,” he sighs. “Like I said, I barely — Shiiiit.”

     His words are cut off by a ragged curse as you trace the warm tip of your tongue in a figure-eight around one last purple mark by his pulse point, which pounds furiously under your mouth.

      Sawyer groans. “You evil, evil woman. You set me up.”

     You grin, sweetly pecking his jaw. “Maybe,” you giggle, drawing back from the crook of his neck to look at him fully. Your lovely, patient boyfriend was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, his chest heaving as though your lips had produced some sort of chokehold on him. Maybe, in a way, you had, given how he gripped your hips with his short nails digging into your flesh.

     You lean in, nose-to-nose, your mouth barely brushing his lips. “Something tells me,” you add, your hand moving to rest on his shoulder, “that you’re not going to complain about it.”

     He closes the distance between you two, catching you slightly off-guard. You snap out of your daze, though, early enough that you can reach with one hand to cup his jaw to keep his face still as you press your lips firmly to the wound on his, your signet Mending the flesh with a rush of heat to accompany the oddly satisfying feeling of his lip knitting itself back together. The feeling makes his hands drop and grab at the nearest part of you — the back of your thighs — and squeeze, forcing a sharp inhale from you.

     Sawyer pulls back (much to your dismay), his hands shaking as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. You almost ask what he thinks he’s doing, but he slowly drags the fabric up, exposing the skin of his toned stomach…Which also happens to be littered with yellow and purple bruises.

     He just looks at you, his expression unreadable. “These, too?”

     You can’t help the fond but mischievous smile that graces your lips as you peck his newly-Mended lower lip. “I thought you’d never ask, pretty boy.”

[soulofapatrick]

Don’t Tempt Me - Xaden Riorson x female reader

Summary: Xaden finds you burnt out on the training field 

Warnings: none 

Words: 6k (somehow)

Notes: Not my fave and not proofread

Y/N's POV

The sun hangs low over Basgiath, bleeding gold and deep crimson across the sky, its light casting jagged shadows over the towering battlements. The war college looms around me, its stone walls unyielding, its presence as foreboding as ever. The air is thick with the lingering scent of sweat and scorched leather, remnants of a day spent in brutal training.

The air is thick with the scent of fresh earth and damp stone as I sprint across the training yard, my feet pounding the ground with a rhythm that feels like a heartbeat—a constant reminder of my inadequacies. Sweat drips down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I refuse to wipe it away. I don’t have time to care about that. I only have time to run.

Over and over, I push myself to the brink, my body screaming in protest, muscles tight with fatigue. My breaths are ragged, desperate for air that feels like it's slowly being stolen from me. But the pain doesn’t matter. It’s nothing compared to the quiet voice inside my head, the one that whispers my doubts and my fears, the one that tells me I’m not enough.

You can’t keep doing this.

It’s Virethalon’s voice. Low, firm, and impossibly calm, like he always is when he sees me teetering on the edge. His presence pulses in my mind, filling the quiet spaces with a calm I can’t find within myself.

Stop, he says again, the warning clear. You’ll burn out before you ever get the chance to fly.

But I ignore him. I have to. I can’t stop, not when the weight of everyone’s expectations hangs so heavily on my shoulders. I can’t afford to be weak. I can’t afford to be what everyone expects—a failure.

My legs scream, my body trembling with every step, but I push harder. Faster. A flip, a backflip, then a roll, twisting midair in an effort to improve my reaction time, my agility. I force my limbs to obey, despite how they beg for rest, despite how my mind is breaking under the strain.

I am not enough. I’m not strong enough to make it here.

Each fall, each misstep echoes the same message in my mind: You don’t belong.

The words are a sting in my chest, sharp and bitter, poisoning the air in front of me. The instructors don’t believe in me, not truly. They’re waiting for me to break, to fail in front of everyone. The other cadets—they’re watching too, eager to see how long I’ll last.

Stop.

Virethalon’s voice is more insistent now, rising with frustration. I know he’s watching, can feel his eyes on me, even though he’s nowhere near. You don’t need to prove anything.

I don’t stop. I can’t. If I stop now, the quiet, haunting voice of failure will take over. If I stop, I’ll feel it—the shame of not being able to meet the impossible standard everyone else expects from me.

The ground shifts beneath me as I sprint forward, my foot catching on something, my body twisting unnaturally in the air. For a split second, time seems to stretch—slow, agonising. And then, I crash.

The world flips. My body slams into the earth, my hands and knees taking the brunt of it. The impact rattles my bones, sharp and unforgiving. My breath is knocked out of me, and for a moment, I just lay there, feeling the tremor of my body as it tries to recover from the shock.

I’m not moving. I can’t move.

Gentle hands find my shoulders before I can even process what’s happening. The pressure is firm yet careful, guiding me, coaxing me into a sitting position. My body trembles from exhaustion, every muscle protesting the movement, every joint aching with the weight of my own failure. I try to steady myself, but the effort makes the world spin, and I can’t seem to get my bearings.

The cold stone beneath me is a cruel reminder of how far I’ve pushed myself. My hands shake, fingers stiff from too much strain, and I finally drop my head, trying to hide the rush of heat that floods my face.

And then, I feel him.

His presence looms over me like a shadow, suffocating and unavoidable. My heart skips a beat, and I immediately wish I could melt into the ground, anything to escape the situation. But it’s too late.

I glance up—my breath catches as I come face to face with him. Xaden Riorson. He stands before me, looking like a damn god, his tall, muscular frame casting a shadow over me. The way his wide shoulders fill out his leather jacket should be illegal. He’s built like someone who’s spent years training and fighting, his chest massive, arms heavily muscled. His dark hair is windblown and tousled, the kind of messy that only makes him look more dangerous. His tawny-brown skin is kissed by the sun, and the dark stubble along his jawline only adds to the rough, untamed look. His eyes—gold-flecked onyx—are locked on mine with an intensity that makes me feel like I’m about to be set ablaze, and I would rather do anything else than face him like this.

I rub my face with both hands, hoping to hide the blush that’s rising to my cheeks. Of all the ways for this to end—of course, it’s Xaden Riorson who catches me. And of course, he looks like that.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growls, his voice a deep rumble of anger that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “You’re an idiot.”

I blink, half-frozen, half in disbelief. The audacity. “Oh, wow. Thank you, Wing Leader,” I drawl, sarcasm practically dripping from my tongue. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

Xaden’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t bite back—at least, not yet. Instead, his eyes flicker over me, and I know he’s assessing the damage. My exhaustion. The way I’m trembling, barely able to hold myself upright. It’s the worst feeling in the world. I’m embarrassed as hell that he’s seeing me like this—weak, on the edge of crumbling.

“I told you to stop before you reached this point,” he mutters, shaking his head. There’s an edge of frustration in his tone now, and I can’t decide if I want to hit something or laugh at how he sounds like he’s scolding a child.

“Yeah, well, you know me,” I say, wiping a bead of sweat off my brow, trying to make myself sound more in control than I feel. “Can’t resist proving everyone wrong.” I let out a bitter laugh, the kind that doesn’t reach my eyes. “But, hey, thanks for showing up and saving the day. Just what every soldier needs: an overbearing Wing Leader.”

A flash of something—maybe amusement, maybe exasperation—crosses his face, but it’s gone too quickly for me to read it properly. His dark brows furrow, and he steps closer, invading my space. “You’re burning yourself out. You can’t keep going like this.”

I force myself to sit up straighter, determined not to appear as weak as I feel, but I can’t hide the tremor in my limbs. The ache in my muscles is almost unbearable now, and Virethalon’s voice echoes through my mind—Stop, or you’ll destroy yourself. But I ignore it, as I have for hours.

I grit my teeth. “I don’t need your help, okay? I don’t need anyone’s help.”

I try to push myself to my feet, but my body betrays me, buckling underneath me like a broken chair. I stumble, gasping for breath, my hand reaching out for support but finding nothing.

Xaden’s eyes flash with anger again, but his movements are faster than I can process. He’s at my side in a heartbeat, and before I can even protest, he lifts me up, cradling me against him in one smooth, powerful motion. His arms are like iron around me, and my body, still trembling with exhaustion, goes stiff against him.

“What the hell are you doing?” I gasp, still trying to regain some semblance of control. I push against his chest—unsuccessfully—my arms too weak to do anything more than flop uselessly at my sides. “Put me down, you asshole!”

Xaden doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t have to. His grip tightens, holding me effortlessly against him as he carries me toward the barracks. “I told you to stop, but you never listen. So now you’re paying the price.” His tone is laced with annoyance, but there’s something else beneath it—something that makes my heart twist. Maybe it’s concern, maybe it’s guilt, but I can’t focus on that. I’m too busy trying to avoid the heat that floods my face.

“You’re such a prick,” I mutter, my voice half muffled by his chest. I’m so fucking embarrassed, and I hate that I feel this way. His warmth, his scent, is all-consuming, and my skin burns at the contact. But I refuse to admit it. “I don’t need you to carry me like some helpless baby.”

“Funny,” he says, his voice low, “because you sure look like one right now.”

I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and I want to punch him. I should punch him. But I don’t have the energy, so I settle for biting my lip, muttering curses under my breath as he carries me.

The weight of his presence presses against me, and I can feel his muscles shifting beneath me, each movement of his body reminding me of just how powerful he is. And for all my protests, for all my sarcasm, I don’t want to admit that I’m secretly grateful. Grateful that he’s here. Grateful that he doesn’t let me fall apart.

Even if it means I have to endure his endless teasing.

Xaden’s warm eyes flicker down at me, and this time, there’s something softer there. Almost like...he understands. But I’m too stubborn to let myself believe it.

Xaden doesn’t say a word as he carries me through the barracks, the warmth of his body pressing against mine as I try to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. I’m too tired to fight it. His presence is too overwhelming, and I can feel his heartbeat steady against me. Every step he takes is calculated, strong, as though it’s second nature for him to carry someone in his arms like this. It’s as if he’s done it a hundred times—though I have to wonder just how many times I’ve crossed his mind before today.

Xaden moves with a quiet grace, his large frame effortlessly navigating the corridors of the dorm building as though he’s done this a thousand times before. He steps softly, almost soundlessly, his footsteps absorbed by the shadows that seem to cling to him like a second skin. My heart races, but it's not from exertion anymore—it's the way he's so effortlessly commanding in everything he does. The weight of his arms around me, the heat radiating from his body, and the way my mind seems to short-circuit whenever I’m near him make it hard to think straight.

We pass the first-year rooms—mine included—and I can’t help but cringe at the thought of being caught sneaking past curfew. But Xaden moves with such precision, such mastery of his surroundings, that the idea of us being caught seems laughable. No one can hear us, no one even notices us. It’s like we’re ghosts, gliding past the rooms, unseen by anyone else.

I briefly wonder how he does it—how he’s so adept at slipping through the shadows, unnoticed, silent. But then, he’s always been a mystery to me. The kind of mystery I’ve never quite been able to figure out. And maybe, in a way, I don't want to.

Finally, we reach the staircase that leads to the upper floors, and with a swift glance in either direction, Xaden steps into the shadows, carrying me effortlessly up the stairs. We move past the landing and down the hallway to the last door—the one I know leads to his room. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause, and with a final quiet push of the door, we’re inside.

Xaden doesn’t put me down right away. His arms remain around me, his hold firm, as if he’s unwilling to let go. As if, for a brief moment, he’s afraid to lose the connection. The closeness between us feels suffocating, overwhelming, and yet I can’t bring myself to pull away. Every inch of my body is acutely aware of his presence, the heat of his skin seeping into mine, the muscle and strength in his arms keeping me held too close. I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against me, mirroring the frantic pulse racing through my veins.

His dark eyes meet mine, and I swear, for a second, everything else falls away. His gaze is fierce, like a storm trapped behind his irises, flickering with a raw intensity that sends a wave of heat rushing through me. I’m suddenly aware of how painfully close we are—so close that if I moved even an inch, I’d be pressed against him completely. My breath catches, and I can’t look away, trapped in the gravity of his stare, like he’s pulling me toward him without even trying. And then, as if trying to fight whatever is building between us, his eyes flicker to my lips, and I feel it—the pull—stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.

But just as quickly as the moment seems to rise, he jerks his gaze away, his jaw tightening with the effort to control himself. It’s like he’s trying to push back the part of him that’s aware—aware of the magnetic pull between us, aware of how much he’s been fighting this… whatever this is. He shakes his head slightly, as though dismissing the thought entirely, like he’s trying to shut down the desire that flares in him. But I see it in his eyes—the flicker of something primal. Something I can’t ignore.

Finally, he sets me down, but he doesn’t let go immediately. He’s still so close that I can feel his breath on my skin, a whisper of warmth against the cold, the tension stretching taut between us, like a string pulled too tight. My pulse races as I settle onto the bed, the soft covers pressing against me, but my chest feels like it’s about to burst. I try to catch my breath, but it’s like the air in the room has thickened, heavy with unsaid words and the suffocating weight of everything unsaid.

Xaden doesn’t back away. He hovers, towering over me, his presence suffusing the space around us. I can feel the heat radiating off him, his body just a breath away, and every inch of me is screaming to close the distance. But I don’t move. I’m not sure I can. His nearness makes every part of me ache, makes every nerve light up, thrumming with the raw electricity that crackles between us.

His voice cuts through the thick silence, deep and steady, but there’s something almost... softer now, something gentler that makes my heart stutter. “Stay here,” he commands, his words pressing down on me like a physical weight, making my chest tighten. The force of his tone is undeniable, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—something that makes my stomach flutter. Something dangerous and thrilling all at once. "Be a good girl. Don’t go anywhere.”

I feel those words in my bones, in the very marrow of my being. The way he says it—it’s like a promise, a command that makes my heart race faster than it should. And yet, there’s a tenderness beneath it, a strange gentleness that pulls at me, twists my insides into knots. He wants to keep me here, close. He wants to possess this moment with me, even though I can feel the struggle in him—his body yearning to cross the line, but his mind pulling him back, trying to control what’s growing between us.

His gaze holds mine, unwavering, and I swear I see something break in his eyes—something raw and unspoken. It’s as if he’s holding himself back from doing something he knows would be too much, too dangerous. But the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know: the battle is far from over, and this tension—this charge—it’s only just beginning.

I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. Every muscle in my body is taut, every nerve alive with an electric hum. Xaden disappears into the adjoining ensuite, his heavy footsteps echoing softly across the stone floor. I can hear the gentle hiss of the water filling the tub, the steady flow of it working in rhythm with the hammering of my heart. The tension between us lingers, the silence more suffocating now than ever before, and I can’t shake the feeling of his gaze still lingering on me even as he disappears from the room.

I should feel grateful for the space—should breathe, slow my pulse—but all I can think of is him. The way he’s so effortlessly commanding, yet there’s this softness beneath it that I can't quite place. The way he had looked at me, his expression a battle between restraint and something far more intense.

My fingers twitch, almost compulsively, and I reach for my boots, needing to do something. My body is still shaking from the exertion, from the near-collapse, and now my brain feels fuzzy, the exhaustion creeping in faster than I expected. I should just wait, I know I should, but I feel... out of control. I need to regain some semblance of normalcy, something to anchor me.

I struggle to bend down, but my balance is still far off from the punishment I just put my body through. My vision swims a little, and before I can register what’s happening, my body tips forward, sending me sprawling from the edge of the bed with a yelp. The floor greets me hard, and a shock of pain shoots up my spine, but it's nothing compared to the embarrassment that floods through me in waves. My pulse spikes, and I scramble, feeling utterly ridiculous.

A sharp, almost instinctive growl of frustration rises in the air—Xaden. He’s already moving quickly, a blur of motion as he rushes back into the room, his broad form filling the doorway in an instant. His dark eyes sweep over me, a flicker of concern passing through them, but it’s quickly replaced with something harder—almost irritated.

"You really are a disaster, aren't you?" His voice is deep, but there's a teasing bite to it, even as he crosses the room toward me in strides that eat up the distance. I can’t even find it in me to be offended. I’m too busy feeling like a complete fool.

Before I can open my mouth to respond, he’s crouching in front of me, his hands reaching for my arms to steady me. The sheer strength in his touch almost knocks the wind out of me as he helps me back onto my feet, the warmth of his hands traveling through my skin and straight to my chest. He doesn’t say anything else, but the way his eyes linger on me for a moment, as though making sure I’m okay, sends something fluttering nervously in my stomach.

“Try not to break anything else, would you?” His voice is softer now, as though the weight of the moment has finally broken through that icy exterior of his. His lips curve into a smirk, but there’s no denying the genuine care beneath the sarcasm.

Xaden moves with quiet precision, his hands wrapping around my waist, gentle but firm, as he guides me toward the bed. The heat from his touch lingers on my skin, and despite everything, I can't help but shiver. His grip is unyielding, his presence surrounding me, and as I sit on the edge of the bed, he stands in front of me, towering over me. The dim light from the room casts shadows across his features, making him look even more intimidating than usual, but there’s something in his eyes that betrays the mask he’s trying so hard to maintain.

His hands rest on my knees for a moment, and his gaze flickers to mine. There’s a question there, unspoken, something almost vulnerable beneath that stoic expression. I can see the battle waging in his eyes. He doesn’t want to touch me—at least, that’s what his expression says. But his eyes… those eyes of molten gold flecked with onyx… they betray him, flashing with an intensity I can’t quite read.

And then, in a moment that feels both like an eternity and a breath, Xaden sinks to his knees in front of me. The movement is fluid, almost too graceful, and my heart skips a beat. It feels wrong to be this close, too intimate. His presence is overwhelming, and I can feel the tension in the room thickening with every inch of space he closes between us.

Xaden kneels before me, his hands gentle but firm as he removes my boots. His touch is careful, almost reverent, but the tension is unmistakable. Each movement is deliberate, like he's holding himself back from something. The weight of his gaze on me is intense—smouldering, even—and I can feel every inch of him watching, noticing, memorising.

As he pulls off the second boot, his fingers brush against my calf, sending a jolt through me. My breath catches, and I instinctively tense, but it's more from the electric charge between us than the discomfort of my body. I don’t know why it affects me like this—this man who’s never once been shy about hiding the way he feels or thinking that his touch doesn’t matter—but in this moment, it matters. It matters more than it should.

He looks up then, his gaze locking onto mine. The heat in his eyes is unmistakable, a dark storm brewing just beneath the surface. His brow furrows slightly, and for a split second, I wonder if he’s questioning something—me, himself, what we’re both doing here, like this. But then his eyes flick lower, and I can see the hesitation there, a silent question that hangs in the air between us.

His fingers hover at the waistband of my tracksuit bottoms, brushing lightly against my hips. The touch is almost too soft, as if he’s trying to gauge my reaction before crossing a line that’s already dangerously blurred. He doesn’t say a word—he doesn’t have to. The question is in his eyes, in the way his lips part ever so slightly, in the subtle tension in his jaw. It’s an unspoken request, one that I know all too well.

I can feel the pulse of uncertainty in my veins, but something about this—about him—makes me lower my defences, just a little. Without even thinking, I raise my hips slightly, just enough to give him the signal. My movement is small, almost imperceptible, but it's enough. His breath hitches, and I can see the way his eyes flicker, a momentary loss of control before he tightens his grip on his composure.

Xaden exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath all this time, and I can see it in his expression—the struggle between what he wants and what he’s trying so hard to resist. His fingers slide beneath the waistband of my tracksuit bottoms, and I feel the slightest tremor in his touch. He’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savouring the moment, but also like he’s afraid that if he moves too quickly, the entire thing might shatter.

The air between us crackles with an electric tension, and as he helps me out of the fabric, I’m left feeling exposed in a way that’s more than physical. My heartbeat is louder than anything else, pounding in my ears, and for a moment, I forget about the aches in my body, the bruises, the exhaustion. It’s as though the world has narrowed to just us. Just this. And I can’t seem to pull away from him, from the way he makes me feel, from the way his hands linger a little too long at the edge of my clothing, as if to remind me that he sees me—every part of me.

I know it’s not supposed to feel this way, not like this. But every glance, every touch, every quiet, unspoken word between us is enough to unravel the careful walls I’ve built. And yet, even as he pulls the tracksuit bottoms off, his hands gentle but insistent, there’s something else in his eyes—something that tells me he’s fighting every urge to touch me, to kiss me. But he doesn’t. He never does.

I can’t decide whether that makes it harder or easier.

And when he finishes, leaving me in nothing but my sports bra and panties, I feel more vulnerable than I’ve ever been—completely at his mercy, exposed in more ways than one. The air is thick with unspoken words, and even as I sit there, trying to catch my breath, I know this isn’t over.

Xaden lets out a frustrated sound, a low, throaty growl that resonates deep in his chest. His breath stutters as his forehead falls gently to my thigh, the weight of it anchoring me in place. The intensity of the moment is suffocating, like the world around us has slowed to a stop, leaving only the two of us, tangled in something we can’t deny. His hands are gripping the edge of the bed, his knuckles white, and I can feel the tension in his body, a tight coil of restraint and hunger.

And then, in one swift, desperate motion, he surges upward, his lips crashing against mine. There’s no warning, no hesitation. Just pure, raw need. His mouth takes mine with a fierce intensity that leaves me breathless, as though he’s been holding back for far too long and now there’s no more control. It’s like he’s been starved for this—starved for me—and he doesn’t want to let me go, not even for a second.

I kiss him back with everything I have, my hands finding the sides of his face, pulling him closer, as if I can’t get enough. Every part of me feels alive with the heat between us, my skin tingling where his fingers brush against it, my heart thudding erratically in my chest. He tastes like fire—burning hot, consuming—and I can’t help but fall into him, into the kiss, into the feeling of him. I can feel the weight of his body pressing against mine, the strength of him, but it’s not overbearing. It’s grounding, like he’s pulling me into his orbit.

His hands move quickly, urgently, as if he’s afraid the moment will slip away from him. Before I can fully comprehend what���s happening, he’s lifting me effortlessly from the bed, and suddenly I’m straddling his thighs. His hands settle on my hips, holding me in place, the heat of his body radiating into mine. I can feel the way his pulse races beneath his skin, the way his chest rises and falls against mine. The kiss deepens, growing even more frantic, and I don’t know whether it’s the intensity of it or the way he’s holding me that makes everything else feel so insignificant.

He pulls me closer, his hands guiding me with a possessive, yet gentle touch, and I can feel the thrum of energy between us, something electric, something undeniable. My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer, and the sound of his breathing, his heavy exhales, fills the space between us. I can hear the way he’s fighting for control, the way his muscles tighten with the effort of keeping his composure.

But I don’t want him to. I don’t want him to hold back.

I don’t want him to fight it anymore.

I can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of my sports bra, his chest pressing against mine with each movement, and I’m acutely aware of how close we are, how easy it would be to lose ourselves completely in this. And yet, even as we continue kissing, tangled in each other’s embrace, there’s a part of me that’s still unsure, still trying to catch up with everything happening around me. But when his hands slide down to my thighs, gripping them with such possessiveness, that uncertainty melts away, replaced by a heady rush of desire.

The kiss breaks, but just for a moment, both of us gasping for air. His lips hover above mine, and I can see the raw intensity in his eyes, a mixture of frustration and something else—something far more tender, even if it’s buried beneath the layers of urgency.

"Don't stop," he mutters, his voice rough and low. His hands tighten around me, pulling me against him, as if he’s trying to make sure I’m real. “Please don’t stop.”

And all I can do is nod, my chest still rising and falling with the rapid pace of my heart. I don't want to stop either.

The air between us feels thick with heat, charged with a tension that I don't want to break, even as the reality of what we’re doing begins to settle in. Xaden’s hands are still firm on my hips, his grip tightening with every shift of my body, and I can feel every muscle in his form, every bit of control he's holding onto, fighting to stay composed. He pulls me closer again, the fabric of my sports bra barely separating us, his chest brushing against mine as he presses his forehead to mine, both of us gasping for breath.

The heat from his skin, the closeness of his body, is too much to ignore. It's overwhelming in the best way. I can hear my own pulse hammering in my ears, feel the electricity between us that neither of us can escape. He looks at me, his gold-flecked eyes searching mine, his breath ragged as if he's barely holding on to the edge of whatever control he has left.

I can't stop myself from raising my hand to touch his face, my fingers trailing down the line of his jaw, tracing the hard curve of his chin, feeling the roughness of his stubble. The tenderness in my touch makes him shiver, his breath catching in his throat, and for a brief second, everything else fades. There’s no training, no curfew, no expectations—just the two of us, caught in something far more complex than either of us ever intended.

His lips brush against mine once more, a soft, tentative kiss, but it feels more intimate than the previous fiery moments. It's full of the unspoken things, the feelings we've been hiding, buried beneath layers of duty and unacknowledged desire. Xaden pulls back slowly, just enough to look at me, his eyes heavy with something unreadable.

"I—" he starts, his voice thick with emotion, but I stop him, my fingers pressing gently to his lips.

“I know," I whisper. "I know, Xaden. We don’t need to say it.”

The words hang in the air between us, unspoken yet understood. He looks at me, really looks at me, and for once, there’s no pretension, no walls between us. Just a moment of raw honesty.

But then, he pulls back just a fraction, his hands slowly loosening their grip on me, as if reluctant to let go but knowing he has to. His eyes soften, a flicker of something tender passing over his features before he runs a hand through his windblown hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“You should rest,” he murmurs, though there’s a trace of something unreadable in his voice. “You’ve pushed yourself too hard tonight.”

I nod, feeling the weight of his words as the adrenaline from our moment starts to ebb away, leaving me with a sense of vulnerability, of exhaustion I hadn’t realised had been creeping up on me. My body is still sore from the training, but now, there’s an ache of a different kind, a deep, resonating need I’m not sure how to deal with.

“You’re right,” I murmur, my voice hoarse. “About that bath…”

Xaden’s hands gently guide me to my feet, his fingers lingering on my hips just a moment longer than necessary, as if making sure I’m steady before he lets go. His touch is firm but considerate, grounding me, reminding me that he’s here, present, in this moment. I almost wish he didn’t have to pull away so soon, but the space between us feels impossible to close for reasons I can’t quite name.

With a soft grunt, Xaden rises to his full height, towering over me for a moment before he reaches down and picks me up again, effortlessly moving me toward the bed. His strong arms encircle my waist, and I feel the heat radiating from his chest, the power in his body that he keeps so carefully controlled. He sets me down gently on the edge of the mattress, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the tension that still crackles in the air between us.

I sit there for a moment, watching him, as he turns toward the bathroom, his broad back stretching as he moves, his muscular frame rippling with every step. His windblown black hair falls just above his collar, and I can't help but stare at the way he walks—confident, purposeful, but there’s an undercurrent of something, a quiet storm inside him that’s barely contained.

The silence feels heavy, too heavy, until I finally speak up, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

“... Maybe you could join me?”

The moment they leave my mouth, time seems to slow. Xaden freezes in his tracks, his hand hovering over the doorframe, his back to me. For a breathless second, I wonder if he didn’t hear me, if the words just got lost in the space between us. But then, the tension in his body is palpable. His shoulders tighten, his jaw clenches, and I watch as a low, almost imperceptible sound slips from his throat—a frustrated, breathy exhale that he seems to be holding back with all his strength.

He doesn’t turn around right away, but when he does, his eyes meet mine, and there's a flicker of something dangerous there. It’s not anger. It’s hunger—raw, palpable, and so intense that it sends a shiver down my spine. I can't look away, can't tear my gaze from his. The silence between us stretches, thickening, until I can almost feel the heat coming off of him.

"You really want that?" His voice is low, a little strained, like he's trying to rein himself in. There's a slight tremor in his hands, and his posture is tense, like a coil ready to snap. He’s trying to keep himself in check, and I know he’s holding back everything he wants to say, everything he wants to do. But there's something in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability, of yearning, that betrays the composure he’s trying so hard to maintain.

I nod slowly, heart pounding in my chest as I search his face, looking for any sign of hesitation, any clue that I’ve crossed a line. But there’s none. Instead, he takes a step toward me, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he’s waiting for me to stop him, to give him some sort of excuse to turn back. But I don’t.

I don’t know what happens next, only that the space between us feels like it’s been stretched so thin that it could snap at any moment. Xaden is so close now, his presence overwhelming, and I can’t breathe, not properly. All I can do is stare at him, feel the pull, the need between us, and wonder if he can feel it too.

“Don’t tempt me,” he mutters under his breath, before stepping into the bathroom, leaving me to wonder if he’ll give in, if he’ll actually let this tension between us break.

Part Two ⇒ Giving Into Temptation

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

@xadenswhore @fanficscuziranout @daisydark @Mariahoedt @marrass @

[hufflepuffwriter1995]

Falling For The Prince 

Fandom: Fourth Wing 

Pairing: Aaric Graycastle x Xaden’s Little Sister Reader 

Notes: This was edited with the free version of grammarly. Please be kind

Requested: This is my first official request, and I am so excited! I hope I do justice to it. 

  I wasn’t stupid, I knew Aaric Graycastle hated me, undoubtedly because I was a marked one. It may not make sense to me, to hate the child for the parent's sins, but it seemed a popular notion. So I did my best not to take it personally, that is until today. I knew the second I heard that I would be facing him in challenges that it wouldn’t be an easy fight. The look of pure hate in his eyes told me as much. Still, I never imagined it would end in me being unconscious with a fractured eye socket, broken ribs and a torn ACL. Laying in the infirmary afterwards, waiting for Nolan, I tried my best to figure out what the hell his problem was. 

  Aaric always fought hard, it was in his training, but he always stopped when someone tapped out. Today he didn’t, it was like his rage took total control and he wouldn’t stop until I was dead. The last thing I saw before passing out was Imogen and Rodic desperately trying to pull him off me. Taking advantage of the silence, I tried my best to focus on the why. Surely this couldn’t just be because I am a marked, not with that much anger behind him.  My silence was cut short by Scylla, my dragon making herself known. 

  “Your brother is here. Violet is being tortured. I have informed him of your condition, little one.” My dragon’s voice left little in the way of argument, but I still let out an annoyed huff. Xaden was about to become truly insufferable. Before I could muster a response to her, the door opened and Garrick came running in. 

  “He’s dealing with Violet, but I am under orders to get you the hell out.” My brother’s right-hand man didn’t waste any time in gently lifting me into his arms, turning on his heel, ignoring the protest of the healers, and walking out. “Who did it?” 

  “Aaric Grayscastle, it seems he hates us marked ones.” 

  “Xaden is going to kill him,” Garrick muttered, letting out a sigh. “It’s not because you are marked, it’s because Xaden killed his brother for what he did to you.” 

  “Now I’m confused, Xaden never killed anyone with the name Grayscastle that I recall.”  

  “That’s because it’s not his real name.” Garrick’s voice dropped to well below a whisper as he carried me to where our dragon stood waiting. “His real name is Cam Tauri.” All at once, everything made a grim kind of sense. I didn’t remember Cam very well, but I knew his brother a bit too well. Being Xaden’s little sister, as well as a marked one, had earned me the unwanted attention of his older brother. He made my life hell, but it wasn’t until the man had almost killed me, that Xaden snapped. With the fury of an overprotective brother, he killed the prince and grinned while doing it. I knew the official story wasn't the truth, that Xaden didn’t want the world to connect me at all to the bastard's death, but it seemed now like it may be a mistake.  

  “So he’s taking me away because of that?”  

  “No, he no longer trusts the school. Violet has been tortured for the past three days. He planned on forcing you out but when he got the word you had been sitting in the infirmary for three days waiting on Nolan, well it confirmed it all for him. So I am taking you home.” 

  “No, you are taking me to my brother. Violet…” 

  “You can see her when we get you home.” Garrick’s tone was harsh, his no-nonsense tone that told me I had no say but to listen to him. “You need Brennon.” He said softly, his eyes softening. “You have been waiting for three days for help. They wanted to use you as a cover for what is happening to Violet, they hoped you being hurt and left unattended would be enough to distract him when he got here.” 

    “He speaks the truth,” Sgayel said softly, her voice surprising me. So rarely did my brother’s dragon take advantage of the link between us, Scyall being her sister and all. 

  “I can hold on to her,” I whispered, even though I knew it was useless. I wouldn’t be riding my dragon back.  

   “I am well aware, you are riding with me.” As he approached Kokov, the dragon looked at me, blinking slowly. Suddenly I was in the air, being lifted by magic as Garrick got on before I placed gingerly in front of him.  

  “Let’s go.” I sighed, closing my eyes as I nestled into Garrick. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🐉~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

   It had been two weeks since everything went down, since my brother and Violet brought half the war college to our home. During that time I was trying to track Aaric, or rather Cam but he seemed to be good at avoiding me. I was about to give up when I found him in the library, head bent over a book. 

  “I remember you. I don't remember most of that time, to be fair I blocked it out. But I remember you. You were kind, you told me you were sorry for my father's death. You said I shouldn't have to pay for his sins, that you didn't agree with what was happening.” He started to speak, his brows pinched but I continued, not giving him a chance to cut me off. “I can understand hating my brother but to stoop so low as to hate me when I haven't done anything to you. I thought you were better, but you are just like your brothers.” With that, I turned on my heel, leaving him to Jessica giggling in my wake. The girl was my friend, had been since diapers but I couldn't deny she had formed a fast friendship with the man. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🐉~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

   “She's right you know, when it comes to her you are no better than your brothers.” Jessica said as she sat down, long brown waves falling around her shoulders, an amused look on her face. Aaric sent her a glare, even if he couldn't deny the fact. 

   “You have, from the moment I met you, told me how you hated the fact people hate my family because of what our relatives did. You told me you hated that I was being punished for my brother's choices. Yet you do it to her. You almost killed the poor girl because she's Xaden's sister.” 

  “He killed my brother!” 

  “But she didn't! She tried to stop him and besides she doesn't hate you for what your brother did to her.” 

  “What the hell are you on about?” Jessica hesitates for a moment before sighing. 

  “Your brother attacked her. Tried to kill her because of what her father did. Xaden didn't want anyone to know for fear of what they would do to her.” Aaric stayed quiet, his eyes on her before sighing. 

  “I didn't know that.” 

  “We aren't meant to speak about it. He will have my hide for telling you about that. Now go apologize to her and show her the man I befriended.” She smiled at him, patting his shoulder. He scowled but stood, having seen just what happens if he didn't listen to her. 

  Thankfully Y/n was easy to fine, she was out with the dragons, Scyraa giving him a glare as he slowly approached. Y/ turns to him, raising a brow. 

  “You are right. I haven't been fair to you. I am.. better than my brothers. I hope to prove that. I didn't realize that my brother…” 

  “Xaden covered it up and ill have you keep that between us. He will be furious.” Y/n says slowly. 

  “Listen about that challenge..” 

  “I won't forgive you if that is what you want. You will have to prove it to me. Show me that you aren't the man you acted like. If you do that then we can talk.” Her dragon lowed her head, blue scales glittering in the light, her eyes narrowing in distaste.  

  “I look forward to it.” He muttered, watching as she mounted, her eyes locked on him. Scylla let out a huff of smoke, the heat washing over him, a warning in and of itself. As he watched her fly away, he found himself hoping she gave him a chance. And that it self made him wonder if maybe he had officially spent too much time with Violet. 

[chaoticneutraltor]

[angstywaifu]

Xaden: In my defence, I was left unsupervised. Violet: Wasn’t Garrick with you? Garrick: In my defence, I was also left unsupervised.

[scorpioriesling]

Hiya! If like to order a Ridoc, Bodhi, and Liam, with a side of 10 and if it is in-stock, a 73? Cheers friend!

Good Things Come in Groups of Three

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Liam x Bodhi x Ridoc x reader

Warnings: mdni, 18+, heavy smut, p in v, oral, threesome… this is quite graphic lol

Summary: After a long day with your trainer, the last thing you need is his friend mouthing off to you -- especially when it's a topic he has no business "educating" you about. Ready to rinse off the day and finally catch a few hours of sleep, you're not expecting company; but, you come to realize maybe it's not all that unwelcome.

SR’s Note: So... this is my first time? Writing? Smut involving more than just two consenting parties? So like... please don't tear me to shreds. <3 I really, really tried, and I apologize for the wait time, I have so many WIPs and I wanted to do my best on this for you; I appreciate your patience! This uses prompts #10 and #73 from my Prompt Request Masterlist. Enjoy (:

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Come on Y/L/N -- harder!"

Sweat runs down the back of your neck as you draw back, raising your gloved fists in defense for what felt like the hudredth time that evening. Bodhi stood before you, his left brow raised tauntingly as he motioned for you to move with a curl of his fingers.

"Do it again, but do it harder this time," he instructs, repeating the forward motion with his fingers. You huff in frustration, awareness creeping in of how late it had gotten. The moon was now hanging above the clouds, barely anyone was left in the gym... and you had Bodhi, your trainer, keeping you here late.

You lunged forward, throwing your weight into him. He stumbled, back, but you weren't strong enough to knock him off of his feet. You thrust your clenched fist out, aiming to at least leave him doubled over -- again, you were too slow. He caught your wrist, twisting your arm behind your back and shoving you to the ground. Your hipbone connected roughly with the mat, surely to leave a bruise; but that paled in comparison to your strangled breaths as the wind was completely knocked from your lungs.

"B...Bod...hi.." You writhed beneath him as he pinned you, his form pressed completely atop you to keep you from rising. A pleading cough was all you could get out before his warm breath ticked against the shell of your ear.

"Tapping out?" He rasped, the rough patches on his worn leather gloves rubbing your wrists raw. You nodded frantically, and he sighed, smacking the mat before releasing you. The air was a welcome relief as it flodded your lungs, each breath drawn in greedily as you rolled onto your back against the mat.

Bodhi leaned back on his heels, the slight shake of his head sending a soft ruffle through his dampened curls. He peered down at you with a disappointed look.

"Y/N, you know when you tap out during the real thing-"

"Bodhi, you were practically fuckin' killing me on that last one!" You squeaked, your head resting pathetically against the worn training mat. He tsks at you, cracking his knuckles and continuing to stare.

"You need to know how to hold your own. Especially against guys," he elaborates. You roll your eyes, but he continues. "Guys don't give a shit if you're small, or you're a girl, or you physically can't take them." He gives you a pointed look, and before he can say more, you hear the even more irritating sound of your fellow squadmate approaching.

"Hah, yeah, in fact," Ridoc chuckles, bending at the waist to peer over you. "Some twisted fucks try to get paired with girls on purpose, just because they know it's a different type of fight, and it's one they could win." He looks pitifully at you, the waves in his black hair falling over his forehead. You scoff, pushing onto your elbows and wincing at the pain blooming near your hip.

"You're annoying," you throw a pointed glance at your fellow first year, your eyes sliding to the trainer you were assigned by your absolutely-wonderful-and-charming wingleader next. "And so are you; running me into the ground, working me harder than anyone else here," you gesture around the gym, and laugh sarcastically as you notice it has emptied out.

"Oh! Wait. There is no one else here." You frown, and Bodhi only glowers at you.

"You'll be thanking me when it comes time for challenges and you can actually take down your opponents." He says nonchalantly, and you shake your head in disbelief.

Ridoc opens his mouth again from your right. "It's probably for the best anyway-"

"Ugh, Gods Ridoc, do you ever SHUT UP?" Your anger bubbles over, and he immediately stops talking. "I'm so tired, I'm worn out, I've been here all night sweating my ass off with him," you jerk your thumb toward his annoying upper-classman friend. "Now, I have to listen to you run your mouth, too?" You sigh frustratedly, glaring at the moon through the open window.

You push to your feet then, sending one final angry look at the two friends.

"All on a fucking school night, too!"

You turn on your heel, making way for the locker rooms. You cross your arms, feeling the smallest victory won as you approach the locker room door.

It's short lived when you hear their mocking laughter from the training room behind you.

You slam the door shut, grumbling and growling as you stomp by the grayed-out stalls. What the hell is their deal, anyway? Surely you could handle your own. Not every guy here is looking for a girl to go after, anyhow.

Approaching the mirrors, you sigh heavily, bracing your hands against the cool ceramic of the sink.

So what if you were paired with a man. You would be able to hold your own -- they were just afraid of looking weak. That had to be it.

You stared at your reflection for a moment, taking in the bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep. Your ponytail was nearly undone, so many hairs had fallen in the hours you'd been forced to train here.

Screw Bodhi for making you stay so late. You shook your head, thinking about him pinning you to the mat. He didn't care how tired you were -- he did it anyway. And Ridoc, he never knew when to stop running those full lips of his...

Screw them both, honestly.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the sound of a locker closing rang out, causing you to jump. Your heartbeat quickened; surely, no one else would be in here. The gym was empty when you walked out.

"Hello?" You called. Your feet felt frozen in place, your mind swimming with all of the possibilities. After a few moments of silence, you shrugged it off. It was late; perhaps with the lack of sleep, you were simply imagining things.

Of the four shower stalls available, you weighed your options before stepping into the one in the corner. Two were missing a shower curtain, and the other had a sign that read "Out of Order" in front of it. Not to mention the lack of a lightbulb in there; you went with the fully funtional option.

You peeled your clothes off, discarding them at the bench near the sinks before stepping in. You had just closed the curtain quietly, the room so eerily quiet when your mind began to wander. You could have sworn the locker rooms had six showers -- not four.

Again, you rolled your shoulders, chalking it up to be pure exhaustion that had you thinking these rediculous things. With a soft sigh, you reached for the shower handle.

✧･ﾟ: *

It seemed as though fifty things happened at once.

You had just let your eyes drift shut, your hand bracing the cool steel of the shower faucet as you awaited the feeling of the warm water to rain down on you.

In that same second, the curtain was abruptly shoved open, and you heard (definitely heard, not imagined) a male voice, asking, "Uhhh, what are you doing in here?"

Also, in that same second, you screamed. At the top of your lungs. Wide-eyed, shrill, screaming. Because why the fuck, was Liam Mairi, of all people, staring back at you, naked in the girl's locker room?

While he was also... naked... in the girl's locker room?

"Liam!" You screetched, reaching for the shower curtain in the same second he did. You pulled it toward yourself in an attempt to conceal what had already been exposed, but it seemed he had the same idea. It was as though tug-of-war was happening with the damned curtain, and in the end, his barely covered dick was pressed against your barely covered vagina. You braced a forearm across your chest in an attempt to hide your top half.

"Y/N, what the Hell-" he began, his cheeks reddening as he looked anywhere other than in your direction.

"Ohhh no," you roared. "What the fuck," you puncuated. "Are you doing. In the girls. Locker room!" You demanded. He let out a sarcastic laugh, his eyes drifting from the ceiling finally to meet yours.

"Are... are you serious right now?" He asked. Your eyebrows rose so high on your forehead, you thought they'd recede right into your hairline.

"Yes? It's, what, nearly midnight?" You seethe. He chuckles, his seaglass eyes roving across your face. You narrow your brows at him.

"It is midnight now, yes," he confirms. "I just got back from riding with Deigh, and since the shower in my dorm is taken..." he explains, his piercing gaze trailing over your mouth and drifting lower. "...I opted to use the ones down here. In the boys, locker room, I might add." He smirks, his pupils widening as he unashamedly takes in the cleavage you still have pressed against him.

Your cheeks burn, the embarassment of the entire situation, and now you've only gotten in worse with this compromising position you're in-

"H-hey," you say, your breaths quickening as you realize he is still quite literally oogling you. His gaze flicks up, the cool blue of his irises now darkened with lust as he's gone completely quiet. "My eyes are up here."

He chuckles, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth as his hand gently reaches around the curtain, the pads of his fingertips connecting with the curve of your exposed waist. You suck in a sharp breath, the steam from the shower providing no warmth under his icy gaze.

Sure, you could admit you had thought about your handsome squadmate in... rather unsavory positions before. Would you ever act on those? Probably not. You were only ever cordial before this, anyway -- but the way he was practically devouring you with his eyes right now had you feeling the need to rub your thighs together.

"You think she's still in here?"

Whatever trance Liam had you in was severed the moment you heard that taunting voice, your eyes widening with the realization.

"Probably, she never came back out."

You grabbed Liam by the shoulder, tugging him into the running water with you -- curtain be damned. You slid it shut, concealing yourself from the approaching males. Turning to face him, you see his face etched in concern. You pull him close to whisper.

"I think Ridoc and Bodhi are in here," you explain, and Liam's lips press into a line. You brace your hands on your hips, anxious now that they'll come looking for you, watching as you went right into the wrong locker room.

You turn your back to Liam, your flushed cheeks indication that you are aware the both of you are still fully nude together... only now, you're in the shower together. No barriers, no curtains between you two.

He steps toward you, his fingers cupping under the curve of your ass as he pulls you back to him. You hiss quietly, turning your neck to look up at him. He's already leaning over to say something, his lips trailing along the column of your neck.

"They can... still see your feet, you know."

You look down. You hadn't even considered the few inches between curtain and floor -- they'd surely know it was you. Not many other males in the Riders quadrant had pink toenails with flowers painted on them.

Liam's hands snake around your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can instantly feel his length pressed against your ass, and as his fingers continue to trail across your dewy skin, he twitches against you.

"Fuck..." he groans, low and gutteral against your throat before placing a wet kiss against your skin. You can hear Bodhi and Ridoc poking around, their voices becoming ever so closer.

"L-Liam... please," you pant, his hands travelling up to cup your breasts in his palms. He pinches your nipples hard between his fingers, causing you to bite down on your bottom lip to stifle your cry.

"Liam, please, you have to h-help me," you plead, and he chuckles lowly in your ear. You hadn't realized that you had begun moving your ass against him, his cock now pressed more firmly against your bum.

"Oh, I'll help you," he offers, his hands grabbing your hips and turning you around to face him. His lips merely ghost over yours as he speaks, staring directly down into your wide eyes.

"But you're gonna help me too." His hands slide underneath your butt, gripping the flesh as he lifts you off of your feet. He pulls you against his chest and you wrap your legs around his waist, the feel of his erection strong against your throbbing core. He backs you up until you're pressed against the stone wall, one of his hands moving underneath you as his eyes bore into yours.

"There -- now no one can see you." He grins, and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. The muscles of his shoulders flex, and you watch as his hand moves in time beneath you; realizing he is stroking himself below your entrance. The epiphany sends another wave of heat through you, and he leans in close as his tip prods at your entrance.

"Now, be a good girl for me and keep quiet?" He smirks, and you all but nod before he slowly pushes himself inside of you, each inch stretching your aching pussy deliciously.

"Mmmm," You squeeze your eyes shut, trying your best to stifle your moans as he sheaths himself inside of you to the hilt, only pulling out a few inches before roughly shoving back in.

Your eyes fly open, your mouth wide as you stare up at him. He simply smirks at you, one hand palming your ass and the other bracing against the stone wall. He continues fucking himself into you, slowly at first, drinking in every quiet whimper you let out for him.

"So tight," he rasps, his gaze focusing on your breasts pressed against him once more. You fight to keep any noises at bay, worried that Gods forbid another person pulls back the shower curtain-

"Ohhhh! Looks like Y/N came in here on purpose, huh!" Ridoc's taunting voice bellows, a blast of cool air flooding the warm shower as he yanks open the shower curtain. Your nipples harden at the sudden temperature change, only seeming to turn Liam on more. Ridoc chuckles at the scene before him, and you watch as your trainer approaches from behind.

"It's... it's not what it looks...like-"

"Oh, I think it's exactly. What it looks like." Bodhi cocks an eyebrow, glancing to Liam who has not let up on his relentless deepstroking. "Is this exactly what it looks like?"

Liam smirks, glancing between you and the two males watching the scene before them. "Oh, it is exactly what it looks like."

You gasp, looking up at him in disbelief. "Liam! What-"

"I've heard enough." Bodhi says, raising a hand in silence. He only sighs, his eyes raking over your naked form before him. Your cheeks heat as Liam adjusts his angle, his hand gripping the back of one of your knees as he drives into you harder. You can't help the moan the escapes; the sheer force at which he's fucking you is enough to make anyone wet at the sight of it.

"Thought she deserved something -- been a pretty good girl for me, anyway," Liam praises, and Ridoc rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, well she was bein' a fuckin' brat during training today-"

You glare from your place on the wall, watching as his devilishly handsome lips tilted up in a smirk.

"Ridoc... I said... shut... up..." you pant. Bodhi leans against the stone wall, chewing on the inside of his lower lip as he watches your breasts bounce with every thrust Liam gives you. "Ah... oh.. fuck, Liam I'm-"

Liam groans against the hollow of your throat, his cock twitching inside of you before shooting thick ropes of cum deep into your pussy. The tether inside of you snaps, your warm release trickling out of you and running over the curves of your thighs. You're panting, still coming down from your high when Ridoc opens his mouth again.

"Why don't you shut me up then?" He says, his voice thick as he pushes his sweat shorts over his muscled thighs. Liam places you gently back on the ground, the aftershocks of your first orgasm finally wearing off as you saunter toward Ridoc. You shove the shower curtain aside; clearly, there was no concern for getting clean anytime soon.

Approaching the bench where your clothes lay, you push against his shoulders, watching as he yields to your touch. He lies flat on his back near the edge of the bench, his toned legs tapering off the end to where his feet plant flat on the floor.

He grins cheekily up at you, his eager hands guiding your waist as you swing your leg over his chest. He grips at your thighs, squeezing your skin as you position your leaking heat just above his awaiting mouth.

"This will do," You say, looking down at him and smirking. He groans, fingers pulling you to sit all the way down on his tongue. Immediately he gets to work, his lips exploring each and every inch of your throbbing core while his hands grip your ass, perched lightly on top of his chest.

"Ohhh... fuck," you moan, your fingers threading through his onyx locks as you begin to lightly rock your hips against his expert tongue. He licks up into you, illiciting more whines of pleasure from you as your fingers tug on his locks. He growls into your cunt, the sound sending another wave of pleasure through you that has one hand leaving his hair and playing with your nipple instead, imagining how good his mouth would feel there if this was any indication.

"Ridoc, yes, yes..." You chant, your eyes drifting toward the abandoned shower you had retreated from before. No longer is Bodhi leaned against the wall -- the space is empty, save for a few articles of clothing on the ground.

You let out a sharp gasp as your hair is suddenly yanked, forcing your chin up as dark brown eyes stare lustfully down at you. From the corner of your eye, you watch as a blonde head strides over, sitting on the bench a couple of feet away and leaning against the row of lockers.

"You don't seem so eager to get to bed now that your cunt's being eaten," Bodhi snarls, his gaze trazing over your face contorted in pleasure. You can't think of a witty a response, no comeback in mind -- especially as Ridoc moves below you, his nose prodding against your clit. You let out a breathhy gasp, your mouth hanging open and Bodhi only shakes his head at you.

"Mouth looks a little empty," he grits out, gripping your chin harshy before releasing you. He strides before you, his fingers tugging on his length before sitting in front of you on the bench. Your mouth practically waters at the sight; he's huge. He sees it too, as he scoffs at you.

"You wanna mouth off all night -- bend over and take it all then," he challenges. Ridoc's hand moves to grip his own length, moving in quick thrusts as you bend before him, lowering on your hands until his glistening tip is positioned just before your lips.

"Said you could handle a man yourself... handle me then," he looks at you darkly, and you glare at him, shoving his entire length down your throat in one thrust. You gag around him, his intimidating size measuring up. When you draw your head back, his hand threads through the mess of a ponytail you have left, roughly gripping the back of your head and forcing your mouth all the way back down on his cock.

"Fuck... so pretty, taking my dick all the way down that little throat," he groans. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, the combined sensation with Ridoc's punishing tongue nearly pushing you over the edge almost too much. When Bodhi releases you again, you stick out your tongue, and he taps his length against it.

"Fucking hot," he mutters, watching you through half-lidded eyes. You dare a glance to your right, catching sight of Liam relaxed on the nearly bench, fisting his own cock at the sight of you getting both males off at once. His head is rolled back in pleasure, his eyes closed as he drags his fingers up, and down, and up...

You don't have time to warn Ridoc before your orgasm rolls through you, your thighs shaking beside his head. You glance up, surprised to see Bodhi panting heavily as you continue sucking him at a slow, punishing pace.

"Fuck... oh fuck-"

He plunges his cock deep, shooting his cum down your throat. You gag, the size stretching your throat around him as he whimpers before you with each twitch of his cock. You focus on swallowing every last drop; though a small part of you cheers in silent victory that you have Bodhi Durran whimpering for you.

✧･ﾟ: *

You're spent. You're absolutely spent; surely, you'd been in here hours now, the three males delighting in pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, and you doing the same for them.

Nonetheless, you still find yourself happily sitting atop Ridoc's lap, bouncing on his thick length in the early hours of the morning.

"Fuck, Y/N... just like that, bounce that ass on my dick, just like that," his arms are wrapped around your waist, holding you against him as you ride him, milking every last drop out of his delicious length. It was the only time, you'd admit, you liked hearing the sound of his voice.

"Tongue," Liam commands, and you open your mouth wide, letting your tongue fall out per his request. He grins, giving your head a little pat before tapping it with his silky-smooth dick.

"Good girl," he praises, slipping into your awaititng mouth with ease. Your eyes roll back, his tip hitting the back of your throat as Ridoc's thrusts were now brushing your cervix. Your hands gripped his shoulders, and he delighted in the way your strangled groans sounded right next to his ear.

It was the sharp slap on your right butt cheek that had your walls fluttering around Ridoc though, Bodhi's fingers lightly tugging on your hair again in silent control.

"You like being fucked, is that it, hm?" He asked, landing another slap against your skin. You cried out, Liam pulling his cock from you for only a moment to hear your pleasure-filled screams.

Another slap -- this time, you felt yourself on the edge.

"Fuck!" You sobbed, your fucked out expression staring at Liam with your rounded eyes. He sucked in a breath, his hand working his cock as he slipped his thumb into your mouth.

"Taking it so well..." he mumbled, his eyes closing only for a moment before sticky spurts of cum covered you, painting your chin and neck with the evidence. He sighed in pleasure, Ridoc slowing his relentless pounding before he pulled his dick from you, his cum shooting across your boobs and painting your skin in his seed.

"Fuck... I'm so close," Bodhi groaned, his hands hauling you off of his friend and bending you over the sink. Before you had a moment to adjust, he filled you with his length, his hips snapping against your ass harshly. His fingers gripped your throat, tilting your chin to gaze at yourself in the mirror. Your mouth dropped open, watching the attractive male behind you fuck himself into you mercilessly.

"This perfect fucking cunt," he grunted, his chocolate curls swaying with each thrust. "Watch how good you take it, baby," he ground out, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Your stomach tightened, your eyes rolling back as his dick rubbed against your sensitive spot.

"Bodhi... Bodhi, please, I'm cumming-" You squeaked, and with a few sharp thrusts, he came inside you, pulling out to watch hungrily as the white liquid dripped out of your raw cunt. You gripped the sink's edge, panting as the weight of the evening's activities took hold of you. Glancing to the shower, you sighed, chuckling at the thought.

"You still have time, if you want to actually clean up before class," Ridoc chuckles, pulling his shorts on from behind you. Liam yawns, stretching his arms wide as he glances at you through the mirror. Bodhi grabs your clothes, extending them to you. You take them with a shaky hand, chuckling softly and shaking your head. You could barely believe the direction the night had gone.

"Yeah... I think I may just skip class today."

✧･ﾟ: *

[saintsanddevils]

hello there I love your stories so much would you be interested in doing a Garrick smut !!

Beg For It

Garrick Tavis x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: When Garrick comes back after being gone for so long, you don’t waste any time.

Warnings: ‼️18+ (MDNI) explicit content‼️ graphic smut, a whole lot of fluff, inappropriate use of Garrick’s signet (minor Onyx Storm spoiler)

Author’s Note: The way I stopped everything to write this. I was excited about it haha

Word Count: 3.3K

Masterlist

————

A knock at the door has me glancing at the clock on the mantel.

Who would be up at this hour?

Anxiety hits me, wondering if Venin have crossed the border or breached the wards of Tyrrendor. But if that was so, wouldn’t the bells be ringing? People stampeding in the hall? Dragons roaring in the distance?

I slowly get to my feet, grabbing a robe to cover the white lace nightdress that reaches to the tops of my thighs. If someone is here with a missive or I’m needed in battle, I’m definitely screwed in this outfit.

If it’s not anything life-threatening or imminent, I’ll be so pissed. Whoever is at the door is interrupting my only time to relax while at Riorson house. I’ve been re-reading Garrick’s latest letters by the fireplace.

A hollow ache burrows in my heart. It’s been five weeks since I’ve seen him. Over a month since I’ve held him in my arms, kissed him, or felt his curls beneath my fingers. Every day without him has been eating me alive.

The last time I saw him, he was rushing onto the flight field with me on his heels. Xaden had already taken to the skies after a long goodbye with Violet. Now, Garrick was expected to go with him, as always. I’d resent Xaden if I didn’t trust him with my life. Or, in this case, Garrick’s life. It’s because of this that I know he’ll bring Garrick back to me.

Rushing towards Chradh, Garrick had caught sight of Xaden overhead before whirling to me. He crashed into me, gravity pulling us together as he kissed the life out of me. His grip was hard and desperate before slowly loosening, caressing me. When his forehead met mine, I knew I wouldn’t see him for a very long time.

“You know I love you?” he whispered.

I nodded, tears choking me as he kissed me one last time.

Another knock at the door, this one more desperate, brings me out of my memories. I huff in annoyance before throwing open the door.

I immediately freeze.

“Garrick?” My whisper is full of uncertainty.

On the threshold, just beyond reach of the wards placed on the room, a man tall enough to tower over me with fair skin, dark curls, and heartbreaking hazel eyes grips the doorframe.

Garrick Tavis.

Heart pounding, I stare in open shock, wondering if this is a dream. Maybe I fell asleep by the fire and I’ll wake up soon to find that he’s not actually here.

Garrick’s eyes burn into me as he whispers my name like a prayer that’s been answered. The way he’s looking at me… It’s as if I’m air and he’s drowning, dying to reach for me with his last breath. It’s intoxicating to behold.

This feels entirely too real to be a dream.

His nostrils flare as he takes in my attire. His gaze scorching my skin as he scans me, slowly, methodically. Memorizing me.

“Well, fuck me,” he mutters. “If this is how you greet me after a month, I should leave more often.”

No way in hell is this a dream.

I bolt forward, gripping his leathers by the collar to pull him through the wards— pulling him into our room.

Copying Xaden months ago, Garrick ensured when he was gone, I’d be safe in our room. Even he couldn’t get in without my permission. It was part of his many backup plans and safety precautions when it came to me.

“You’re the only important person in my life,” he had whispered against my skin many months ago after setting up the wards. “I have to keep you safe. Promise me you’ll be safe?”

And I’ve been keeping that promise. Every day, hoping he’ll come home to me and stay longer between each time he’s allowed leave back to Riorson house.

And like every time before, he’s back.

Once Garrick is through the wards and standing before me, we collide.

Lips and teeth crash together, tongues intertwining as Garrick wraps around me, holding me tight. I grip him just as hard as I kiss him. His lips, gods, his lips are everything. I’ve missed him far too much to waste any time.

He’s taller than me, being dubbed “the Big One�� by Violet. I remember fully agreeing with her when she told me. The top of my head can barely reach his shoulders. So while he towers over me, I use my height to my advantage and touch every inch of his torso, ensuring he’s actually here. His broad shoulders. The edges of the mark on his skin seen above his leathers. His dark curls. Even the tan marks of his flight goggles.

Garrick breaks from the kiss first. When our eyes meet, we both smile wide and carefree. At the same time, we tear off his flight jacket, revealing his well-built frame covered in a tight shirt that outlines his rippling muscles.

Gods, I missed him.

He rips the robe from my shoulders, tossing it over his shoulder as he dives back in to kiss me. His hands gripping my waist as my fingers hold on to his biceps.

The feel of him sends electric shockwaves up my nerves. Everything is entirely familiar, but different. More than a month away from one another feels like an eternity as I reach to grip the back of his head, bringing him closer as his teeth bite my bottom lip.

I moan into his mouth, sliding my free hand beneath his shirt. Skating my fingertips across his abdomen till I get to the rim of his pants, Garrick sucks in a breath. I toy with the button, pulling until it gives.

Slowly, I slip my hands beneath his pants, skimming his briefs before my fingers meet warm, veiny skin. Garrick pants against me, my pulse racing alongside his as my hand grips his cock.

“Fuck,” he moans.

I leisurely take my time sliding my skin over his— teasing, taunting. Garrick’s hands shake as they move from my waist down to my hips, pulling me closer. When I get to the head of his cock, my mouth waters at the feel of precum already dripping from the tip. With my thumb, I smooth it over the skin, pumping my hand once, twice, another before he grabs my wrist, stopping me.

“Baby, I’ve waited too long to have you,” his voice rough with desperation. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

I smirk. “Maybe I want you to.”

He huffs a laugh. “I know you’d love that, but I’ve had enough lonely nights to last me for the last five weeks.” He suddenly moves me backwards until my back hits the wall. “I need you.”

He bends forward, kissing my forehead, before tracing his lips to my temple. I exhale when his lips move to my cheek, stopping to smirk into my skin.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I confess, breathing in the smell of him.

Garrick’s mouth glides across my jaw before hovering over my swollen lips. “I missed you too, love.”

Warmth spreads through my limbs like I’m soaking in the sun. He kisses me briefly, before moving his mouth to my jaw. Breath hitching when his teeth prick at my pulse before his tongue slides along my collarbone.

“This dress,” he breathes, making the exposed flesh of my skin pebble. “Gods, you’ll be the death of me.”

His teeth latch to the top of the lace, pulling the fabric downward until my breast is fully exposed. The air is cool against my heated skin as Garrick takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over my nipple. He sucks, long, deep, and hard before pulling gently with his teeth, making me gasp.

My head falls back, hitting the wall as I close my eyes, lost to the feel of his lips and teeth. His hand yanks the rest of the material down, a ripping sound filling the silence of the room.

“I’ll buy you twenty more pairs of this exact dress, I promise.”

I laugh at the breathless sound of his voice, smiling towards the ceiling as he begins to nip at my other breast. The lace dress falls from my shoulders, pooling at my feet.

In only my matching lace panties, I feel Garrick still against me. I look down to find he’s now kneeling, his face inches from my underwear, gazing up at me through his lashes.

“They were a set,” I wink.

Garrick’s pupils are wide as he looks down at the lace. “Fuck, I love you and your shopping habits so much.”

A belly laugh escapes me, causing Garrick to join in as he nuzzles my abdomen before tracing his fingers over the garment.

He whispers my name, like a siren call, and I meet those lust-filled hazel eyes as he places a gentle kiss on my stomach.

This is love. We’ve had plenty of dark days, but it’s these quiet moments, the ones where we can find the light in the dark, that matter the most. Every laugh, caress, and smile he gives me is a gift. I’ve never felt more adored and cherished than in his arms.

And right now? With his face inches from where I need him desperately, I know he’ll always come back to me, no matter how far he travels or how long he’s gone.

I’m his home as much as he is mine.

Garrick’s gaze softens. “I know,” he whispers, kissing my skin once more.

Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I want to cherish this with him, for as long as I can.

His rough fingers slide beneath the lace, pulling my underwear completely off, leaving me exposed before him. A shiver echoes up my spine as his hands grip the backs of my thighs.

“I’ve been as patient as I can be, baby. But now,” his fingers reach down to my ankles. “Be a good girl and put your legs over my shoulders. I need to taste you on my tongue.”

I practically choke as he helps lift me to sit on his shoulders, my pussy inches from his face.

“That’s perfect,” he praises, making my cheeks flush. His eyes sparkle as he stares at my core, no doubt seeing the glistening wetness trailing down my thighs.

“Now, ride my face.”

I obey his command as he lifts me further and sits me on his waiting mouth. His lips part, and I feel his tongue lick me in one long strip. Pleasure racks up my spine, my fingers flying to his hair to grip onto something. With his hands holding my legs and pressing me against the wall, he dives in like a man starved. Licking and sucking. Nipping and teasing. Stars fill my vision as my core begins to tighten.

“Garrick,” I moan, mg fingers pulling his curls. “Baby, I’m—“

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he keeps going with fervor. One of his hands leaves my thigh to slide up my leg to my pussy. Just as his lips tease my clit, his fingers replace them. Pressing down and squeezing, a tickling sensation begins in the pit of my stomach, growing bigger and bigger as my walls tighten around his tongue.

“I need your fingers,” I gasp. “Please.”

Garrick obliges. Two long, thick fingers slide inside me, making me pant at the pressure. His fingers and tongue work in tandem. Another squeeze, lick, and press of his fingers, and I’m already climbing higher and higher until—

“Garrick!” I cry out.

I can feel him smirk against me as I continue to shatter. Waves of ecstasy wash over me as I scream his name again and again, riding out my orgasm until I’m left feeling boneless. My head swims as Garrick gently moves my legs back to the floor.

I stare down at him, lungs still heaving breaths as I catch sight of his mouth glistening with my slick. His dimple curves just as his tongue swipes across his lips. My knees shake at the sight, but his hands are there, securing around my body as he hoists me against him.

With his hands around my torso and legs, he holds me firmly before winking down at me. He takes a step and in the next breath, we’re across the room, on the bed.

I giggle. “Using your signet to seduce me, Tavis?”

Garrick’s smirk widens as he lays me down on the mattress, his arms caressing my skin as he lets me settle into the comforter.

“I don’t need magic to seduce you,” he raises a brow. “You’re mine already.”

Reaching to touch his cheek, smoothing my thumb across his dimple, I give him a soft smile. “I’ll always be yours.”

He’s kissing me just as the words float in the air, blending with the moonlight. The dark enfolds us as he slips off his trousers and briefs, caging me with his naked body.

With one bruising kiss, I part my legs, feeling him settle between them. I glance between our bodies, a moan escaping me at the sight of his long, hard cock.

I missed this as much as I missed him.

The head of his dick lazily coats in my wetness, taunting and teasing. I writhe beneath his hulking body.

“You better get inside me right now, Garrick, or-“

He pushes into me, bottoming out in one long, heavy thrust.

“Fuck,” he groans into my mouth as my back arches, eyes rolling back at the pressure. I’m so full, it’s toeing the line between pleasure and pain. It’s everything.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he hushes against my skin as I whimper.

He still doesn’t move. I need him to move.

I shift my hips, forcing some sort of friction. He stills me with a large hand, encasing most of my hip with its width.

Lips meet my ear, breath tickling my hair. His voice is deep and rough with want as he whispers, “Will you beg for it?”

I nod, gasping and writhing. The inner muscles of my core clench, tightening over and over again around his unmoving cock.

Garrick kisses the skin beneath my ear before sitting up. While still sheathed within me, he towers over me, sitting back on his haunches. He brings my knees up the bed, bending them so I’m straddling his hips. He presses himself forward, angling his dick to be even deeper inside of me.

Holy shit, this angle.

“I don’t hear you begging.”

A whimper escapes me as I claw at his hands on my hips. “Please, Garrick, please!”

He smirks, that damn dimple shining down on me. A firm, calloused hand glides up my body until he gathers both of my straining hands. He holds them above my head, grasping my wrists together in one large palm, pressing them into the sheets. My back arches into the angle, sliding him even closer, further inside of me.

“Do you trust me, baby?”

I nod over and over again, still straining against his hold. The heat rising inside of me is unbearable, the need to feel his cock pump and thrust against my walls is all I can think about.

Garrick stares at me from above, his gaze hooded as he watches me pant. He tightens his hold on my wrists as his free hand grabs the top of my knee and pulls it to the side, before doing the same to the other. I obey, making them stay in the position he wants them.

As I stretch my knees outward, my eyes widen. With my knees bent at this angle, my pussy locks around Garrick’s cock, exposing my clit to the air. All the while, he watches in fascination, completely enraptured.

With a flick of his wrist, sharp, cool air touches my clit. It startles me, making me want to clamp my legs shut on instinct.

As I try to do just that, Garrick holds firm, staring at my exposed clit. “Let me take care of you. It’s okay, I’m just….experimenting.”

He meets my eyes with a wink before twisting his hand in the air to make the breeze choppier. Almost in a vibrating motion. Warmth and pressure build slowly as the vibrating keeps going, stimulating my clit in a way I’ve never experienced.

Just as it intensifies, Garrick begins to thrust inside of me. Thank fuck. My head snaps back, a cry falling from my lips.

“There you go, baby,” he pumps faster, deeper. “You take me so well.”

Sweat builds at my temple just as his hand releases my hips, allowing me to meet him with every thrust. We moan together as pressure builds, the air he’s still bending around my clit is now flowing faster.

“Garrick,” I whine, my voice full of warning.

He nods, smiling. “I know, I’m right behind you.”

The air vibrating against my clit suddenly disappears. His fingers slip down from my caged hands, releasing them, to touch my clit, keeping me stimulated.

He thrusts, using my knees as leverage to pull me into him roughly. I grip the sheets, holding on as I feel myself cresting that wave once more.

“Come for me, love.”

I shatter with a cry, my voice straining as it echoes. My walls pulse and flutter, again and again, as his cock pounds into me. He soon follows with a roar, bending down so his lips find mine, groaning into my mouth as he fills me.

The entire time he spills inside of me, he whispers, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” over and over again.

I’m drunk off the feeling of him when we finally both come down from our highs. Gasping for breath, Garrick falls on top of me, spent. I laugh beneath him, shoving him playfully.

“I can’t breathe!”

He groans. “Gods, I missed fucking you.”

I kiss his sweaty temple, warmth filling my chest as he gives short, simple kisses to my collarbone.

“Just that?” I tease.

“Don’t even joke.” He rolls his eyes, shaking his head before rolling off of me, lying back on our bed.

He drags me with him, cradling me in the nook of his arms. His bare chest against the skin of my cheek brings so many memories of the past few years, it floods me with nostalgia.

How we met on the mat at Basgiath our first year, his mouth and eyebrow bleeding as he let me beat him into the mat. When he later brought me a bag of ice to help the bruise on my ribs, I knew I was a goner. His stupid dimple melted me as he showed me how to forget the pain by telling bad jokes and obviously flirting with me. It worked. And now, I can’t imagine not ever being his.

A sense of rightness settles within my chest. Garrick is finally home, after so long apart. He’s alive and he’s here with me.

“I’m happy you’re back,” I whisper against his skin.

I feel him kiss the top of my head as his hand strokes my arm. “You’re my home. I’ll always come back to you.”

Warm, comfortable silence settles over the room as we memorize one another’s breaths. Reveling in the feel of our heartbeats. Being here, together, is all we’ll ever need.

For the rest of the night, into forever, I’m his, and he’s mine.

[vividxpages]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sweet reunion ⋆°. *࿐

pairing: Garrick Tavis x fem!Reader

words: 3.4k

summary: two weeks apart from him have been way too long.

warnings: no plot just porn, lots of cursing, dirty talk, reunion sex, making out, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (they both take the suppressant), Garrick using distance wielding to have sex against a wall, oral sex (female receiving), written during ovulation

a/n: my first fic for Garrick, this man has made me insane ever since Onyx Storm dropped and I needed an outlet. (I think he'd be a FREAK.) I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I have when I wrote it! 🖤 thank you to my sister @still-jon-snow for always listening and being excited and just the best!

.♡ 🦋

It had been fourteen days since you had last kissed Garrick Tavis at the landing site of Riorson House.

Fourteen days since you had last spoken with him, laughed with him, been with him.

Today, the mess in which you had lived for the past two weeks, was going to end. You had kept yourself busy with tidying the room – quite shocked over the discovery that he was the clean one out of the two of you – and training with your friends earlier this morning, trying to shake off the nerves upon the arrival of his unit.

You were growing restless by the time the sun stood high above Tyrrendor, the sight beautiful yet lacking the elegant swing of dragon wings. Everyone had been waiting all day. A control mission, nothing out of the ordinary, everyone kept telling you. You had said nothing, not happy with any of it.

But just as you opted to leave yours and his room to watch the goddamn sky yourself, you heard movement in the corridor, a few commands cutting through the silence in the courtyard.

Oh thank the gods, your dragon’s voice rumbled unimpressed in your mind. I can’t bear another day of you moping around like this

Someone down the hallway outside your door shouted: “They’re back!”

It was the last thing you heard before the air in the room suddenly shifted, the dancing dust particles stiffening in the sun streaming through the windows, making space, fleeing from-

Two heavy leather boots hit the creaking wooden floor, breaking through the otherwise strange silence of his arrival.

- him.

You were up on your feet before you knew it, his large shirt on you pooling around your naked legs as you stared at him, the way he briefly oriented himself around the room, then spun around to face you.

In the blink of an eye, both of you rushed forward and you were lifted effortlessly into the air, both of your legs coming to wrap around his waist as he held you close. You let out a happy laugh near his ear, his arms tightening their hold around you as his hands roamed over you, touching everywhere at once.

“Fuck, how I missed that laugh.” Garrick mumbled deeply, his free hand cupping your cheek and making you look at him. You smiled brightly, placing your hand over his and drinking in the sight of him. Unharmed. Love swirling fiercely in his captivating eyes.

He was home.

You bridged the distance between him and you, kissing him slowly and with relish. Knowing Garrick, these kinds of kisses soon wouldn’t do anymore, at least not to sate the bottomless need inside of him.

He tilted his head to the side, hand sliding into your hair as he snaked his other arm around you. With a small gasp, you came to stand on your tiptoes, busy touching his biceps, his strong shoulders and neck…

Without breaking the kiss, Garrick walked over to the edge of the bed, his tongue licking fire into your mouth as he sat down with you and let his hands travel over your naked thighs. You let out a small sound at the sudden closeness before willing yourself to break away for just a moment.

He stared back at you with heavy breath and half-lidded eyes, his usually pale cheeks now getting some lovely color because of you.

“Everything went okay?” You asked quietly, shuffling forward in his lap so your chests pressed against each other, hearts starting to messily beat in sync once more.

Garrick nodded, tucking back a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand staying on your cheek. “We all couldn’t get back fast enough though.”

You caressed down his muscles as they flexed instinctively underneath your tender touch. Your eyes stayed on his, drowning in the warm hazel tone and the fire burning behind it. As your lips parted with a relieved sigh when he splayed his big hands over your hips now, Garrick tugged you even closer against the heat of his body. His scar, so familiar in the way it ran down his temple and vanished at his stoic jaw, shined silverly, the healed tissue soft and rough at once under your fingertips.

You examined him quietly, counting his exhales and the seconds where more of his patience dissolved into thin air as he did sometimes. No bruises or cuts. He was alright. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the tension having followed you for days making its leave as well.

“I’m okay.” He mumbled under his breath, not missing anything. His thumb brushed over your cheek and the gesture was so loving in this time of unease, it nearly made you cry right then.

But you had missed him, desired him when it became dark outside and the mattress beside you was still empty, and you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“I missed you.” You confessed under your breath, a hungering something in your stomach curling itself tight. “I hate sleeping alone.”

“You don’t have to for a long while, trust me.” Garrick promised confidently and then you were kissing again, all softness from earlier forgotten as he nearly devoured you, needing to familiarize himself again with the feel of your soft lips, the taste of you.

You wound your arms around his strong neck and bucked your hips forward only to make him groan when your core brushed right over his hardness. Fuck.

“You don’t smell like me anymore.” He stated between hurried kisses, his tongue licking over the sensitive spot underneath your ear, making you arch against his tall form. Garrick always knew how to make you melt in just a couple of moments and his impatient nature was only intensifying the need, especially after you had been separated for so long.

You looked at him, a little out of breath, and slowly leaned forward to playfully nip at his bottom lip with your teeth. Not breaking eye-contact, you whispered: “You should change that, Lieutenant.”

He was on you in a split second.

He quickly rose with you in his arms, spinning around and then falling onto the sheets with you. Letting out a squeal at the sudden movement, you had no time to recover as he slid above you and kissed you hard, biting down on your plump bottom lip and pushing his hips forward. The warm riding leathers rubbed over your panties and you groaned. As hot as this was, you needed something else. Something only he could give you.

“Too many clothes.” You gasped against his lips and he hummed in agreement and switched to kissing down your neck, soothingly sucking at your favorite spot all your friends would soon tease you about. “Get the fuck naked, Tavis.”

Sometimes you wondered if his signet came with the power of unnatural speed as well, because within under a minute by far, Garrick had torn away your clothes entirely, leaving you wanting and naked on the bed before him, his eyes travelling lazily over your body as if he suddenly had all the time in the world again.

Lifting his shirt over his head, Garrick took a deep breath as the muscles in his stomach flexed. He was hard through his briefs and subconsciously, you licked your lips.

“Show me.” He said quietly and you spread your legs, presenting the evidence of your desire to him, your hunger a roaring pit in your stomach as you felt yourself drip onto the sheets for him. Your own company hadn’t been enough to fill the hole he left behind when he had to leave.

Garrick slowly licked his lips, eyes staying on your pussy as he crawled forward and finally got rid of his shirt. When he pulled down his briefs, your breath hitched, enticed by his hard dick springing against his abs, deliciously leaking at the tip.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered in awe of you and you beamed at the praise, your back arching into his touch as he drew a circle around your belly button, slowly travelling down… “So fucking wet for me, hm?”

As if to prove his point, he gently pressed your thighs further apart, breathing heavily as he let a trail of spit fall down on your folds, the sudden contact making a nerve in your calf twitch. Finally.

The first touch of his fingertips against your clit set you aflame.

Your hands fisted the sheets, your entire body suddenly helpless underneath his touch as he began to draw slow, wet circles on your most sensitive part, the friction so heavenly you could not help but throw your head back and gasp for air.

“Eyes on me, love.” Garrick commanded calmly and you obeyed, every cell in your body needing to please him, to be loved and adored by him.

A needy whimper left your lips as he kept rubbing you and you writhed against the bedding, willing to let him play with you however he wanted if you only got to come soon, or even better -  have him inside of you again. He bit his lip, an approving rumble going through his chest as you bucked your hips into his touch.

“Garrick…” You breathed longingly as he fisted his weeping cock, his thumb stroking your clit in adoration as his other fingers swept through your wetness. “Please.”

“Shh, just a moment longer.” He said, transfixed and uncharacteristically patient as he slowly eased a finger inside of your hot pussy, the tightness and warmth of your walls making his dick twitch. You reached out in an attempt to jerk him off, but midair you froze and you nearly forgot yourself as he suddenly curled his digit upwards.

“Have you touched yourself while I was gone?” He asked curiously and you almost managed to roll your eyes on him before the first was quickly joined by another finger and you groaned at the pleasurepain of it.

“Have you?” You managed to bite back, instantly rewarded by his beautiful low laughter.

“Baby…” His thumb brushed over your sensitive folds and clit, the other hand soothingly stroking your thighs. “Just about every night, you know?”

Gods, how he pleased you.

“I’m gonna fuck you so well.” Garrick promised huskily, a smug grin taking over his face at the filthy sounds your pussy made as he fingered you.

“Then do it.” You gasped, shivering as he scissored his digits once more before he pulled them out, a string of your wetness following him as if a part of you just couldn’t let him go this easily. “I need you to fuck me. Now, Garrick.”

“Such an attitude.” Garrick grinned, shaking his head as if he didn’t love every fucking second of this. His girl, soaked and trembling under him, the scent of her welcoming heat clouding every rationality in his mind.

You held on to his broad shoulders as he lowered himself down on you, his hips resting snugly between your thighs and for a moment, it was quiet and good and you finally felt whole again.

You moaned shakingly in union with him, briefly biting down on his collarbone as he eased inside of you, inch by inch until your thighs were already shaking and his hips were cradled warmly between your thighs. Garrick grunted, resting his forehead between your tits, his breath fanning over the warm skin and making it break out in pleased shivers. The strong arms resting at your sides were trembling slightly.

“Fucking hell.” He cursed, his tongue swirling around one of your aching buds before he looked at you awe-struck, not knowing how the hell he deserved to return to a heavenly woman like you. “’s been way too long…”

Your muscles flexed around him and he groaned, cock twitching inside of you. In a breathless whisper, you protested: “You’ve only been gone for two weeks.” Now you were challenging your luck.

“Two weeks too long, baby.” He muttered seriously before he caught your mouth in a hot and messy kiss, your moan swallowed by him as he pressed forward once again and then slowly pulled back, just to slowly fuck into you again when your head dropped helplessly onto his pillow.

Garrick rolled his hips, building up an intoxicating rhythm as you shook, your neglected pussy overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure of it, of feeling him inside of you when you had to put up with your own fingers for the last days when the longing had become too much.

“Fuck baby, you’re gripping me so tightly…really missed me, huh?” He smiled at you brightly and if he hadn’t been balls deep inside of you right then, dragging his dick just right against your walls, you might’ve slapped him playfully.

“Don’t get cocky now.” Gods, you sounded ruined already and you knew he had not even started with you.

He grinned down at you, relishing the little twin pains in his shoulder blades where you held on to him tightly, still at his mercy while he oh so slowly fucked you. Garrick winked before he looked down to where his cock was sliding out of you, the sounds slippery and absolutely filthy as he used your puffy cunt to lube himself up more before he pushed back in. “Too late, hm?”

You glared at him, purposefully flexing around him and throwing your legs around his waist, causing him to plunge deeper inside of you. Garrick gasped in surprise but quickly regained his posture of confidence as he leaned down to kiss your chest, beginning to fuck you in earnest now.

The change was so sudden, it nearly gave you whiplash.

You were so wet, he could easily pound into you, his arms caging you in as his hips met yours. You bit back a scream as he lifted your bum from the mattress, holding on to him for dear life and then suddenly, the air split in two and-

- he suddenly stood with you in his arms, adjusting his grip on your thighs. You blinked at him in a second of confusion, peeking over his shoulder to see the abandoned messy bed where you two had just laid.

Garrick had wielded the distance. With you.

And he was still very much inside of you.

Your naked back hit the wall behind you and he bent his knees just slightly, the new angle making the delicious curve of his cock dragged over your sweet spot. You moaned loudly, the back of your head hitting the wall as he stared at you like you were his own personal goddess.

“Better.” He decided and lifted you, only to push you down onto his cock again. As if you weighed nothing in his arms, he resumed to fucking you once again, his thrusts sharp and passionate, lacking the patience from earlier and gaining more wildness with every push and pull.

You could do nothing but hold on to him as he fucked you, your high moans swallowed by his deep kisses when he wasn’t busy with ravishing your bared neck. He seemed to be everywhere at once, insatiable in his want for you.

Your nails raked down his muscular back and he moaned right into your mouth, utterly consumed by the feel of you as he rocked into you like it’d be the last time in his life. And you met him with each thrust, rolling your hips and feeling the mouth-watering friction of his abdomen against your clit every time.

“Come on, come on.” You urged him on raspily, sensing the familiar stutter in his rhythm, the way his fingers in your hair trembled. “I know you’re close, I’m right there with you. Let go, Gar…”

With a final shout, Garrick buried his face in your neck and released deep inside of you and as he reached down to touch you, you followed him right over the edge with a scream, your orgasm crashing over you like a thunderstorm.

Feeling the warmth of his come within you, your eyes fluttered closed as you both breathed in sync, unwilling to part yet as Garrick held you close like he never wanted to let go again.

“So perfect…” He mumbled against your skin and you giggled happily and drunk on pleasure.

You slumped down against him, trusting him blindly to catch you and he did. His strong arms held you close against his chest as his heavy exhales tickled the top of your head. You were boneless, completely happy and done with the world as long as your man held you and a sigh so wholly satisfied left your lips, it almost felt blasphemous.

A heaviness seeped into your body, but just as you wanted to hug Garrick and let yourself be carried to bed, he drew back. You whined, displeased as he slipped out of you, not understanding.

“Uh-uh, I’m not done with you yet.” He said with a simple shake of his head and slid down, his hands placing your bum back against the wall, one of them sliding underneath your thigh and lifting until he rested one of your shaky legs over his shoulder.

He got down on his knees.

“Garrick-“ Your eyes widened at the realization of what was about to occur, but it seemed like they hadn’t fed the returning soldiers at Riorson House yet. Because in the next second, Garrick was surging forward, moaning deeply as he buried his face in your pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice nearly catapulting you into the next life.

You slammed your hand over your mouth, shrieking as he licked into you, his tongue dragging your combined releases over your spread folds before he suckled hard at your clit. He was all that held you up, his strength enough for the two of you as he devoured you without any saturation in sight.

Your hand was ripped away from your mouth and then, his glistening lips brushed over your knuckles, his eyes holding you captive as he slowly shook his head. “Let me hear you.”

Your answer was a broken moan, close to a blissful sob as he kissed and licked at you like his life depended on it, eager to taste every drop until you’d shatter underneath his skilled tongue.

“Fuck, Garrick-”

“Give me everything, baby.” He praised you, his hot breath fanning over your throbbing overstimulated clit for a moment as you panted and clawed at his shoulders in an attempt to try and keep up with him. “Such a good fucking girl, I missed you so much…”

“-missed you.” You gasped, twitching in his hold as he laid his tongue flat on you and licked a fat stripe upwards. And did it again and again.

A scorching heat tore through your stomach and it shouldn’t have been possible, but you were already there again, almost ready to jump over the cliff he had been leading you to.

Garrick, sensing your nearing release, looked up at you, his tongue still dancing around your clit as he laced your hands together and placed them both on the wall behind you.

“Every second I’m apart from you is still filled with you.” He vowed. “I love you.”

With one last stroke against you, you shattered apart. Unable to hold you up anymore, your legs gave in and Garrick caught you and pulled you against his chest as your second orgasm tore through you violently. His hands around your waist would likely leave marks later as you panted against his throat, trying to breathe through the last waves of pleasure rushing through you.

“Easy, love.” He murmured, peppering soft kisses over your temple, the top of your head and nose as you slowly calmed down. Garrick was so warm, a human furnace of a man, you felt your eyelids droop almost immediately, the position in his lap way too comfy to want to get up and clean yourself.

“I love you too…” You told him quietly, snuggling into his chest and relishing the closeness you had missed so dearly. You kissed his chest, right over his pounding, love-struck heart as he smiled warmly at you. “Welcome back.”

The sunbeams streaming in through the windows caressed the two of you, quietly laughing with each other and finally, reunited again.

[kingdom-of-sins]

Violet: I just killed someone

Xaden: That my girl!

Sloane: I think I just killed someone

Dain: You know there is a long lecture coming about how killing is wrong but first tell me where the body is so we can take care of it before anyone finds out

Garrick: How many did you kill?

Imogen: 50

Garrick: Damn it! I am still at 30

[partoffantasy]

A Bet Well Lost - Garrick Tavis

⸻ image credits to scribe.jesinia ⸻

summary: What started as a playful bet between Garrick and Y/N quickly turns into an intense game of desire, neither willing to break first—until the tension becomes unbearable.

pairing: garrick tavis x fem!reader warnings: MDNI!, smut, swearing, unprotected p in v, oral (m) word count: 6k

This request and idea was submitted by anon. And this is for all the anons who have asked for Garrick smut. I am not the best at writing smut, but I hope you like it. And oops, I got carried away. 💙

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

The sparring ring was nearly empty, save for a few cadets nursing their bruises and muttering about their losses. Garrick rolled his shoulders, his uniform clinging to him. His dark brown hair was damp, a few strands falling over his forehead as he watched her—watched her with the kind of unwavering focus that made it impossible to ignore.

"You hesitated," she accused as she wiped sweat from her forehead. Garrick’s mouth curved slightly, something knowing flickering in his gaze. "I don’t hesitate." She stepped closer, crossing the few feet between them with deliberate ease. "You did." His expression didn’t waver. "I had the shot," he agreed, tilting his head slightly, his smirk deepening. "And I chose not to take it."

Heat curled through her stomach, her pulse ticking faster. That was the problem with Garrick—he never just said things. Everything had weight. Meaning. Intent. She narrowed her eyes. "Because you didn’t want to, or because you couldn’t?" Garrick exhaled through his nose, the sound almost amused, almost dangerous. Instead of answering, he took a step forward—just one, but enough to make the space between them nonexistent.

"You really want to go there, darling?" His voice was low, rough. The tension crackled like lightning in the air. Yes. The word nearly slipped past her lips, but she caught it at the last second, swallowing down the rush of warmth that spread through her chest. Instead, she lifted her chin, her own smirk forming. "You think you have more restraint than me, Tavis?"

His eyes darkened slightly. "I know I do." A laugh escaped her. "Now that’s something I’d be willing to bet on." Garrick’s expression shifted, intrigue flickering in his gaze before settling into something sharper. "A bet?" She nodded, feeling the shift between them, the anticipation curling tight. "First one to cave loses." Silence stretched, thick and heavy. His jaw ticked. "Define ‘cave.’" Her gaze dipped to his lips for just a fraction of a second before meeting his eyes again. "You know exactly what I mean."

A muscle feathered in his jaw. Got him. His exhale was slow, measured, as if he were considering his options. "And what does the winner get?" Her lips curled. "Whatever they want." Something dangerous flickered in his gaze, something that sent a sharp, traitorous thrill down her spine. But then he masked it, his face smoothing into something unreadable.

"Fine," he said, voice edged with challenge. "You’re on." Satisfaction unfurled in her chest, but before she could revel in it, another voice cut through the space between them. "You two are absolute idiots." They both turned to find Xaden standing a few feet away, arms crossed, watching them like they were the most predictable people he'd ever met.

"You’re seriously making this a bet?" he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and exasperation. "It’s a matter of principle," Garrick said smoothly, not even blinking. Xaden snorted. "Right. Because self-control is something either of you are known for." She crossed her arms. "We’ll see." Xaden gave them both a long look before shaking his head. "Well, this is going to be entertaining." He turned to leave, then paused, glancing back. "By the way, you’re both on the same assignment this week. Try not to let your little game interfere."

Her stomach dropped. Garrick muttered a quiet curse. Xaden smirked. "Good luck." And with that, he was gone, leaving them standing there. Garrick dragged a hand down his face before glancing at her. "Still think you’re going to win?" She forced herself to look confident, despite the warning bells going off in her head. "Oh, I know I am."

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If the universe had any sense of fairness, the bet would have remained simple. But no—Xaden had to go and assign them to the same task, shoving them into close quarters for an entire week like the smug bastard he was. Inventory checks. Weapons inventory checks. Which meant long hours alone in the smallest damn supply closet in Basgiath, knee-to-knee, surrounded by shelves of sharpened steel, flight gear, and tension so thick she could choke on it.

Garrick leaned back against a crate, long legs stretched out in front of him, casually flipping through a parchment log like he wasn’t the problem. Like he wasn’t sitting way too close. Like he hadn’t just passed her another list a moment ago, his fingers brushing hers, the contact brief but devastating.

"Tell me again how this is fair," she muttered, eyes scanning the inventory sheet in her hands even though she hadn’t actually read a single word. Garrick smirked but didn’t look up. "You sound like you’re about to lose already." She shot him a glare. "I’m not losing." He chuckled, low and warm, and she felt it everywhere. Bastard. The first few hours had been fine—manageable, at least. They had kept it professional, methodically moving through crates of weapons, accounting for every last dagger and reinforced breastplate. But then it started.

The proximity. The accidental brushes of skin when they reached for the same quill. The way his voice wrapped around her name. The lingering glances, the heat in his eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking. And worst of all? She was looking. At the way the muscles in his forearms flexed as he adjusted a set of throwing knives. At the thin sheen of sweat on his collarbone, a reminder of how hard they had trained that morning. At the way his shirt clung just a little too well, outlining the ridges of his chest and stomach in a way that was completely unfair.

And the way he knew exactly what he was doing to her. She exhaled sharply, dropping her list onto the crate beside her. "You’re doing this on purpose." Garrick finally looked up, brow lifting. "Doing what?" Oh, he was so smug. "Existing obnoxiously close to me." That earned her a real laugh. "Darling, you’re the one leaning into my space." She hadn’t been. Had she? Her back straightened instantly, and his smirk only deepened.

"That’s what I thought," he murmured. Her stomach tightened, the heat in her veins pulsing stronger. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm. She wasn’t going to be the first to break. "Just count the daggers, Tavis," she snapped, crossing her arms. His lips twitched. "Yes, ma’am." They fell back into silence, but it was a loaded kind of quiet. The kind where every movement mattered—where she was suddenly aware of the way her breathing synced with his, the way his knee was close enough to hers that one shift would have them touching.

And the worst part? She wanted to shift. Her skin prickled with awareness, and she swore she could feel his gaze flicker to her mouth, then lower. She swallowed. Damn this bet. Damn Xaden for trapping them here. Damn Garrick for looking at her like that. By the time they finished the last of the logs, she was burning, every inch of her on edge, coiled tight from the sheer restraint it took not to cross the invisible line between them.

She gathered the last parchment, moving to stand—but so did he. And they collided. Chest to chest. The air thickened. His hands instinctively caught her arms, warm and firm, steadying her. But the real problem was her hands—because they had landed against his chest, her fingers brushing against heated, soft fabric, and she felt everything. The solid strength beneath her palms. The way his breath hitched just slightly.

They should have stepped back. Neither of them did. His grip on her arms tightened, just a fraction. Barely anything at all. But her pulse pounded at the feeling of his thumbs stroking over her bare skin—slow, deliberate, dangerous. Her throat went dry. His jaw was clenched, the muscle feathering as his eyes dropped to her lips. For a second—a single, heart-pounding second—she thought he was going to break first.

Then he exhaled sharply and took a full step back, his hands dropping away. "Goodnight," he said, voice rough. And then he was gone, leaving her standing there, completely wrecked. She pressed her fingers to her lips, her pulse still thrumming wildly. She was so, so fucked. 

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If she was going to win this bet, she needed to stop playing defense. Garrick was too good at keeping his composure, too good at resisting—barely, but still. And worse? She was starting to lose her mind. Every accidental touch, every glance, every damn second alone with him in that suffocatingly small inventory room had wound her so tight she felt like she was going to snap.

So. Time for a power move. She didn’t overthink it. That was the key—if she let herself hesitate, she’d back out. And she refused to back out. Not when she had him right there, walking the edge of his restraint. She waited until late that night, when most of the quadrant had settled, and made her way to Garrick’s room. The halls were quiet, torchlight flickering against the stone walls, but her pulse thundered in her ears, loud enough to drown out the silence.

She knocked once. The door opened a moment later, revealing him. Shirtless. And gods, that was a problem. His dark hair was damp, freshly washed, and he had clearly been getting ready for bed, sweatpants slung low on his hips, the deep grooves of his stomach flexing as he froze completely. Because of her. Because of what she was wearing.

A silk nightgown, thin straps over her shoulders, the fabric dipping low enough to tease. The hem stopped mid-thigh, too short, too sheer, too dangerous. She smiled. "Hi." His jaw locked. His hand was still gripping the doorframe, but he wasn’t moving—wasn’t even breathing. Just staring. The reaction was everything she wanted. "Are you—" He cleared his throat. Tried again. "What are you doing?"

She stepped past him, deliberately brushing against his side as she walked into his room. "Relax, Tavis. I just came to talk." "Talk," he repeated, his voice flat. She perched herself on the edge of his bed, crossing her legs slowly. His eyes flicked downward, barely a second, but she saw it. The way he caught himself too late, the sharp inhale, the slight flare of his nostrils.

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Something wrong?" His fingers twitched at his sides before he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "You know exactly what you're doing." She smiled. "Do I?" Garrick exhaled through his nose, a slow, measured sound, like he was holding on by a thread. "Darling," he said, low and edged with warning, "you should leave."

She leaned back on her hands, arching slightly, letting the silk shift just enough to give him a view of bare skin. "Why?" He muttered a curse, turning away, hands planted on his hips as if he needed a second. She laughed softly. "Oh, come on. What happened to all that restraint?" He was not amused. His head tipped back, eyes closed for a second before he dragged his hands down his face. Then he turned—slowly.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes? Burning. The air thickened between them, the tension so thick she could almost reach out and touch it. She wanted him to break. To snap. To lose. But then—"You're playing a dangerous game," he murmured, voice low and dark. A thrill shot through her, and she held his gaze as she ran her fingers along the edge of her nightgown, tracing the silk idly. "Am I?"

His hands curled into fists at his sides. "Yes." She smiled, slow and sweet. "Then why aren’t you stopping me?" His entire body tensed. For a second, just a second, she thought she had him. Then, in a move so fast she barely had time to react, he was suddenly in front of her, looming, one hand braced on the bed beside her, the other gripping her chin.

Her breath caught. "Garrick—" "You really want to test me, darling?" he murmured. The room felt too hot. His thumb brushed along her jaw, barely a touch, but she felt it everywhere. A warning. A promise. And a mistake. Because the second he touched her, she knew he wasn’t unaffected. That he was so close to breaking. That he wanted her just as badly. Her lips parted, a sharp inhale catching in her throat.

His eyes dropped to her mouth. He was right there. One move. One move, and he’d be done. His fingers flexed slightly—hesitating. And then, cursing violently, he wrenched himself away. She blinked, chest rising and falling too fast, her body still humming from the near contact. Garrick was already across the room, running a hand through his hair, breathing heavy. "Go," he said, voice rough. "Before I forget why I’m still holding back."

Garrick was standing near the window now, his back to her, shoulders tense as if he were trying to hold it all in. His muscles rippled under his shirt, the fabric strained, and she could almost hear his heartbeat from across the room. He was resisting. She could see it, feel it, even in the air between them. She tilted her head, studying him. "You're really trying, aren't you?" His voice was low, rough when he replied. "I don’t lose."

She smiled, the corner of her lips curling up slowly. "You’ve been saying that for days now." "And I’m not going to lose tonight," he muttered, still not turning to face her, as if pretending the space between them could shield him from whatever was coming. She knew the exact moment when his control started to slip. The second he exhaled sharply, fingers curling into fists, the muscles in his neck tightening. She had him on edge, and it was exactly where she wanted him. She leaned back on her hands, stretching just enough for the nightgown to slide higher up her thighs. Her movements were languid, deliberate.

"Still holding out?" she teased, her voice low, full of challenge. "How long do you think you can last, Garrick?" He clenched his jaw. "As long as it takes," he growled. She stood up then, slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. She stepped closer. The space between them shrank, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t stop. No, she couldn’t now.

Her fingers brushed his arm lightly as she passed by, just a gentle graze, but it was enough to make him flinch, enough to send a surge of electricity through the air between them. She wasn’t looking at him directly, but she could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face, and it made her stomach flip in anticipation.

She stopped just in front of him, close enough that their breaths mingled, the heat of his body surrounding her. She could see the struggle in his eyes, the tightness of his jaw, the way his hands flexed at his sides like he was trying to stop himself from reaching for her. She wanted him to reach for her. She wanted to break him.

"You can’t hold out forever, Garrick," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, but it was the one thing she knew would push him over the edge. The change was instantaneous. His eyes, once filled with restraint, darkened, the flicker of something dangerous sparking in them. He reached for her, the movement so fast, so fluid, that she barely had time to react before his hand was on her arm, his fingers digging into her skin. He spun her, slamming her back against the nearest wall with a force that stole her breath.

The impact was sharp, but the warmth of his body pressed against hers made it all feel like fire. His chest was against hers, his breath ragged as he held her in place, his hand gripping her wrist above her head. The other hand was braced against the wall beside her, keeping her in place, his fingers just inches from her face. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, the tension in every muscle, and the way his body was trembling with the need to break.

"Stop," he rasped, but even to his own ears, it sounded like a plea. "I won’t lose. Not to you." Her pulse was erratic, but she fought to keep her composure. She lifted her chin, her breath mingling with his. "Who says you’ve lost already?" she teased, her voice breathy, almost mocking. But the way he looked at her told her everything she needed to know. She could see the fight was over.

His lips crashed down on hers without warning, hard, desperate. She moaned into the kiss, her hands flying to his chest, pressing herself even closer to him, her body arching against the firm heat of his. He responded immediately, his mouth bruising hers with the same wild intensity that was coursing through both of them. Every touch was frantic, as if he were trying to make up for every second of restraint.

His grip on her wrist loosened only slightly as he shifted his hand to her waist, pulling her against him with an urgency that left her breathless. She felt him—felt every hard muscle of his body. His hands were everywhere now, trailing over her, tugging at the fabric of her nightgown, his fingertips burning hot against her skin. She gasped when he pulled away, just long enough to look at her, his chest heaving as he struggled to control himself.

"Gods, you have no idea what you’ve done," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and desire. She didn’t let him say more, didn’t give him the chance to back away. She surged forward, her hands pushing him back against the wall, her lips finding his again, more forcefully this time. He groaned as her body pressed into his, and she felt the last of his resolve crumble away.

The moment her back hit the wall, Garrick knew he was done for. The fight was over. The bet? Lost. And he didn’t even care. Because the way she was looking at him now—lips kiss-bruised, breath shaky, pupils blown wide with need—had him wondering why the fuck he’d held out this long in the first place. She wasn’t teasing anymore. Not now. Now, it was real. And gods, he was going to take his time with this. Make her feel every second of it. His fingers brushed up her thigh, dragging slow and deliberate over soft, exposed skin.

She shivered, and fuck, he felt that too. Felt it in the way her body pressed closer, in the way her hands curled into his shoulders, as if she needed something to hold onto. He grinned, pressing his mouth against the hollow of her throat. "I am not sure if your actions count as a win either." His voice was low, rough. Dangerous. Her breath hitched. Then—a smirk. "Oh for sure, Garrick." She shifted, pressing her hips against him, exactly where he needed her most.

His grip tightened. She bit her lip, eyes gleaming with victory. "And now shut up and fuck me." Fuck. She was playing with fire. And this time, he wasn’t stepping away. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin just below her jaw, earning him a sharp inhale, her fingers tangling into his hair as she arched into him. "Bold words," he murmured, letting his hands wander, savoring the way she melted under his touch. "But I don’t think you understand what you’ve just started."

She swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. "Then show me." Oh, he would. He fucking would. He kissed her slow at first—deep and consuming, drinking her in like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted to memorize the taste of her, the feel of her, the way she gasped against his mouth. She tugged at his shirt, nails scraping over muscle, impatient. But Garrick wasn’t about to let her rush this.

Not after all the godsdamned torture she’d put him through. His hands skimmed lower, purposefully slow, dragging over her waist, her hips, down her thighs—everywhere but where he knew she wanted him most. She let out a frustrated whimper, tilting her head back against the wall. "You’re really gonna make me wait now?" He smirked against her skin. "Should’ve thought about that before you started this bet." She huffed, tugging at his hair. "Asshole."

His teeth grazed her collarbone, lips curving into a smirk. "You love it." She didn’t deny it. And then—she lost patience. Her legs tightened around his waist, her hands moving to his belt, and—fuck. Any thought of teasing her vanished. Because godsdamn, he couldn’t wait anymore either. His grip shifted, and in a single move, he lifted her, carrying her across the room, never breaking contact as he lowered her onto the bed.

She landed with a breathless laugh, looking up at him through dark, heavy-lidded eyes. "You caved first," she whispered. Garrick braced himself over her, pinning her down, his body flush against hers. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. Then he smiled—slow and wicked. "Darling," he murmured, dipping his head so his lips brushed against her ear. Then, in a voice full of promise—full of absolute certainty—"I’m about to make damn sure you don’t care." And then—He did.

His lips crashed against hers in a heated kiss, tongues tangling in a battle he easily won, claiming her with each stroke. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against her mouth. The sound sent heat pooling between her thighs. Desperate to feel more, she grabbed the hem of his shirt, dragging it over his head. The sight of his bare chest—sculpted muscle, so strong—sent a fresh wave of arousal through her.

“You’re so fucking hot,” she groaned, her eyes raking over him. Garrick smirked, his hands already sliding down to her hips, fingers digging in as he pulled her flush against him. Their bodies aligned perfectly, pressing in all the right places, and the moment she felt the hard length of him straining against his pants, a needy whimper escaped her lips.

“Jump.” The command was gruff, laced with raw desire, and she obeyed without hesitation, wrapping her legs around his waist. The moment she did, friction sparked between them, making her grind against him instinctively. She felt him grow harder, thicker, and the sheer size of him sent a shiver down her spine.

“I need to feel your skin on mine,” she breathed, already tugging at her own shirt. He held her steady as she stripped it off, taking full advantage of how easily he lifted her. His mouth found her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her pulse point before sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

His hands slid behind her, deftly unclasping her bra, and the second it was free, he pulled it down her arms, tossing it aside. He leaned back slightly, gaze devouring her, dark with hunger. “You are so fucking sexy,” he rasped. His eyes flicked to her breasts, and she smirked, bringing a hand up to his hair and pulling him down. He got the message immediately. His lips latched onto her nipple, sucking it into his mouth while his other hand kneaded the soft flesh of her other breast. The sensation sent a sharp, electric pleasure straight to her core, making her moan as her head fell back against the wall.

And then, suddenly, her back wasn’t against the wall anymore. The next thing she knew, she was on his bed, sprawled beneath him, legs already falling open around his broad frame. Garrick hovered over her, his gaze heavy, full of want. Slowly, he reached for the button of her pants, popping it open, his eyes never leaving hers. She bit her lower lip, anticipation thrumming through her veins as he dragged both her pants and panties down in one slow, deliberate motion.

Licking his lips, he leaned back over her, capturing her mouth in another searing kiss before letting his hand slide between her thighs. “Mmm, do you want my fingers, darling?” he murmured against her lips, the barest trace of his fingertip teasing her clit, featherlight and maddening. “Please,” she gasped, arching into his touch. “I want you so bad.”

His lips ghosted along her jaw. “What do you want?” “I want your fingers in my cunt, right now,” she growled, tugging him closer. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, but he obeyed, sliding two fingers through her slick folds before pushing them into her with ease. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet for me,” he groaned, watching the way she clenched around him. “It’s like your body was made for this.”

Y/N moaned, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts, her walls fluttering around his fingers. His pace was torturously slow at first, teasing, but when she whimpered his name, he curled them just right, pressing against that perfect spot that made her toes curl. “Oh, fuck, Garrick,” she moaned, her body tensing as pleasure coiled tight inside her. He smirked, his free hand bracing against her thigh to hold her in place. “Come for me, darling.”

The command sent her spiraling, her orgasm crashing over her. She trembled beneath him, crying out his name, her body shuddering as he coaxed her through the pleasure, thrusting his fingers a few more times before withdrawing. She barely had time to catch her breath before he was kissing her again, swallowing her soft moans.

“Fuck, your fingers feel like heaven,” she panted. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Wait until you feel my cock inside you.” She didn’t need to be told twice. Her hands were already at the waistband of his pants, yanking them down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, and her breath hitched. If she was being honest, Garrick might have the most perfect cock she had ever seen.

A devilish grin spread across her lips as she ran her hands over his broad chest, down his sides, then lower, fingers skimming over his hips before she leaned in. Starting slow, she let the tip of her tongue glide along the underside of his balls, savoring the way he twitched under her touch. “Gods,” he groaned, his breath stuttering as she licked her way up his shaft.

She took the head into her mouth, swirling her tongue before sinking lower, inch by inch, until she had most of him inside. Her lips hollowed around him, sucking as she pulled back, letting her tongue drag along the underside. Garrick’s hands tangled in her hair, gripping it into a makeshift ponytail so he could watch her take him in. His other hand traced along her spine before grabbing a handful of her ass, squeezing hard. She moaned around him, sending vibrations down his length.

“Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he groaned, his hips twitching forward. She hummed in response, wrapping a hand around the base of him while her other reached down to palm his balls. His moans deepened, his grip tightening in her hair as she took him deeper, pushing herself until he hit the back of her throat. His chest rose and fell with heavy, labored breaths, his abs flexing as he fought for control. But when she looked up at him through her lashes, he lost it.

“Fuck, darling, you need to stop,” he groaned, his hands pulling her off him. His lips crashed against hers, kissing her like he needed her more than air. “I’m going to fuck this needy cunt so hard,” he rasped against her lips. “So deep that the only thing you’ll be able to think about is me buried inside you.” Her thighs clenched at his words, heat flooding her core. “Gods, Garrick, please.”

He smirked, satisfied. “So desperate, darling.” Lining himself up, he thrust inside her with one firm stroke, filling her to the hilt. “Oh, fuck,” she moaned, nails digging into his shoulders as he set a relentless pace, each snap of his hips hitting the perfect angle. He growled, pulling out suddenly, flipping her onto her stomach before dragging her hips up. Then he drove into her again, the new angle making her cry out.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Look at you, taking every inch like you were made for me.” His words sent her spiraling again, pleasure crashing over her. “Please don’t stop,” she moaned, trembling beneath him. “I can feel you tightening around me,” he rasped. “Come for me, darling. Scream my name.” 

Her orgasm ripped through her, leaving her shuddering and screaming his name. Garrick followed with a guttural groan, his release spilling deep inside her as he rode out his own high. Collapsing beside her, he pulled her against him, pressing lazy kisses along her shoulder. “Fuck,” she panted. Garrick chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Told you I’d make you scream.”

Garrick was spent—physically, mentally, utterly wrecked in the best possible way. And so was Y/N. She lay sprawled across his chest, her bare skin flushed, her breaths still uneven as she tried to recover from what had just happened. From him. Garrick smirked, running a lazy hand down her spine, relishing the way she shivered under his touch, the way she fit against him so perfectly. "You okay there, darling?" His voice was low, teasing, his fingers tracing slow, torturous circles against her hip.

She let out a soft huff, nuzzling closer but refusing to look at him. He chuckled. "What? No smug comeback?" Still nothing. Then, quietly, "Shut up." His grin widened. There it is. "You sound a little—" He rolled, flipping them effortlessly until she was pinned beneath him again, his weight warm and solid and way too pleased with himself. "—defeated." Her eyes narrowed, finally lifting to meet his. "You wish."

He dipped his head, letting his lips graze just under her ear. "Oh, I don’t have to wish," he murmured, voice all honey and heat. "I won." She snorted. Actually snorted. Garrick lifted his head, arching a brow. "Something funny?" She grinned up at him, looking like she had some grand secret. "You caved first." Garrick sighed dramatically, pressing his forehead against hers. "We’re really doing this?" "We are." "You literally—" he kissed her, slow and sweet, before pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes— "—couldn’t wait to get my shirt off."

Her lips twitched. "You’re the one who put me against a wall like some desperate man who couldn’t resist." He let out a deep groan, dropping onto his back beside her, staring at the ceiling. "Unbelievable," he muttered. She giggled, shifting to prop herself on her elbow. "Garrick Tavis, loser of bets—" He grabbed a pillow and tossed it at her face. She let out a startled laugh, swatting it away.

Garrick rolled back toward her, smirking again, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. "You’re impossible." She beamed. "And you love it." He did. Gods, he really did. His smirk softened as his fingers drifted lower, tracing over her arm in slow, lazy strokes. "Bet or not, you know I’d always choose you, right?" The teasing faded from her face, her lips parting slightly, like she hadn’t expected that.

Like she hadn’t expected him to say it. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "I know," she murmured. Then, quieter, like a confession—"Me too." A warm, satisfied hum rumbled in his chest. Garrick wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in, tucking her against him, pressing a slow kiss to the top of her head. "Good," he murmured against her hair. And as she sighed softly, curling into him, he realized—He’d never needed to win the bet.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Garrick knew he was fucked the moment he stepped into the common room. Not because of anything he’d done. No, he was fucked because Ridoc was already grinning at him like a feral godsdamned gremlin. And that never meant anything good. The first words out of Ridoc’s mouth? "So… who lost?" Garrick froze mid-step. A muscle in his jaw ticked. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Ridoc leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Oh, nothing. Just wondering which one of you caved first." Garrick forced his expression to stay neutral. Calm. Unbothered. Ridoc? Was not buying it. "Don’t look at me like that, Tavis," he said, grinning. "We all knew it was gonna happen. The only question was when." Garrick gritted his teeth. "We were just—"

"—completing an assignment for Xaden?" Ridoc cut in, smirking harder. "Yeah, yeah, sure, man. You definitely left that room with all your self-control intact." Before Garrick could strangle him, a new voice joined the conversation—"You lost, didn’t you?" Fucking Xaden. Garrick exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders before slowly turning to face his smug-as-hell Wingleader.

Xaden leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Garrick narrowed his eyes. "You know, I’d almost believe you weren’t nosy as fuck if you weren’t standing there looking like you planned this." Xaden lifted a casual brow. "Didn’t need to plan it. The two of you were already fighting a losing battle." Garrick refused to dignify that with an answer.

Unfortunately, Ridoc was having the time of his life. "Gods, it must’ve been bad," Ridoc said, shaking his head. "How long did you hold out, Garrick? A week? Five days?" A beat of silence. Then—"Three days." The voice didn’t belong to Garrick. It belonged to her. Every single head in the room snapped toward the door. She stood there, arms crossed, looking thoroughly unbothered as she leaned against the frame. Garrick groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You’re not supposed to tell them that."

She shrugged, grinning. "What? It’s the truth." Ridoc howled. "Three days? Three?! Oh, that’s just—" He clutched his stomach, doubling over. "You didn’t even make it a full week! Garrick, my guy—" Garrick glared. "You wanna fucking live to see tomorrow?" Ridoc wiped fake tears from his eyes. "Not after hearing this. Gods, this is better than I could’ve imagined." Xaden was smirking too, though his amusement was more measured. "Three days. Impressive restraint, Tavis. Thought you’d break after two."

Garrick shot him an exasperated look. "Are you serious right now?" Xaden’s smirk only deepened. "What do you think?" Garrick considered violence. Seriously considered it. But then she came up beside him, running her fingers along his very tense forearm before saying, "To be fair, I would’ve won if I’d played fair." That got Xaden’s attention. He lifted a brow. "Played fair?" She smirked. "Let’s just say I… persuaded him." Garrick exhaled sharply, gritting his teeth as he felt the heat of her gaze. The knowing amusement.

And the worst part? Xaden understood immediately. Because his smirk vanished—replaced by an exasperated sigh. "You wore something, didn’t you?" She beamed. "Maybe." Xaden pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck’s sake." Ridoc, however, was absolutely thriving. "You cheated?! Oh, that’s evil. That’s—" He clutched his chest, grinning so hard it looked painful. "That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard."

Garrick turned toward her, leveling her with a look. "You cheated." She blinked innocently. "No rules against it." Garrick exhaled through his nose. She was impossible. And he loved it. Xaden shook his head, clearly done with this conversation. "You know what? I don’t even care. Just—" He waved a hand. "Try to keep it out of the common room, yeah?" Garrick snorted. "What do you take me for? Ridoc?"

"Hey, fuck you!" Ridoc shouted. Garrick smirked, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the door. Xaden sighed behind them. "And for the love of the gods, get your damn patrol reports in on time." Garrick lifted a hand in mock salute. "Sure thing, boss." And as they stepped into the hall, leaving the laughter and teasing behind, she leaned in close, voice warm with amusement.

"Still think you won?" Garrick glanced down at her, taking in the wicked glint in her eyes, the unfairly beautiful curve of her lips. Then, with a slow, satisfied smirk, he murmured, "I hit the jackpot."

[writinginatree]

Too Sweet

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson/female!reader

Summary: Xaden never understood how opposites could attract — not until he meets you and realizes that he doesn't have to understand your sweetness to cherish it.

Anonymous requested: I was thinking in a xaden fic based in "too sweet" from Hozier, where he's all like wanting the reader but also thinking like she deserved more, but with a happy ending ( maybe smutty too ✋🏻

Part 2

Xaden never understood that opposites were supposed to attract. On a physical level, sure. But when it comes to personality and ideology? How could anyone be with someone so wildly different from themselves that they can't possibly understand the other? Someone whose whole attitude to life is completely unlike their own? To him, it just seemed like a recipe for heartbreak. Then again, the saying only claims that opposites attract, not necessarily that they're compatible.

Since meeting you, this is something he's been thinking about a lot.

You're everything he is not; happy, bubbly, energetic, adored by just about everyone and making friends left and right. You're... sweet. There's no other way to put it. What someone like you is doing in the Riders Quadrant, Xaden doesn't know.

He tries to keep his distance at first — liking people is dangerous, and you're much too likable. Needless to say, it doesn't work. Being in the same squad, he constantly finds himself in your presence, and while he keeps to himself as much as he can, he finds it hard to outright avoid you. Almost against his will, he slowly gets to know you. He can't exactly help it, seeing as you sit next to him in almost every class, seek him out at mealtimes, asking him to come sit with the rest of your squad, offer smiles every time you pass him in the halls. You're everywhere, a persistent ray of sunshine piercing into the darkness of his life.

He doesn't understand you. Doesn't have a clue why you're so nice, or how you always manage to be so sociable, no matter what time it is or what lethal bullshit you're about to face, let alone why you seem to genuinely like him. Unlike most others, you have no prejudices against the marked ones, but even so, Xaden is not an easy person to like these days. He can't afford kindness, weakness. Not with all the lives that quite literally rest upon his back.

But no matter how curt he is, no matter how often he only gives one-word answers to your steady stream of chatter or declines your offers to study together, your friendliness never wavers. Every morning your beaming smile greets him in the gathering hall at breakfast, and as days turn into weeks, he often finds his gaze automatically scanning the room for you upon entering, hoping to catch a glimpse of that precious smile. Your presence becomes a comforting part of his routine, always there and yet never intruding. For all your persistence in trying to include him, you're never overbearing. You don't push him when he doesn't join your squad's study session, give him opportunity to join a conversation should he want to, but accept when he doesn't.

He shouldn't get too used to your presence — two of your year-mates have died already, and there's no guarantee you won't be next. Life is dangerous in the Riders Quadrant, and Xaden keeps wondering why someone so sweet would choose this life. You seem more like the type who would be a healer — or maybe even a baker or gardener, far away from the cruelty of war. And yet you thrive even in this environment. He supposes he could just ask you about it, but he doesn't want to get to know you, gods damn it.

Thinking back later, Xaden will realize that the superficial attraction he felt for you from the first starts to grow toward something more the first time your squad leader pairs him with you for a sparring session.

He has already seen you fight at Assessment, but facing you on the mat himself, he gets a much more intimate feeling of your fighting style. You're fast, full of the same energy that is in everything you do, smiling even as you struggle to dodge his punches and get past his defense. You're good. Not as good as him, but your enthusiasm makes up for that. Xaden has to admit — at least to himself — that sparring with you is actually fun. The training session seems to be over in the blink of an eye, and as you step off the mat, both of you sweaty and breathing hard, Xaden is already looking forward to the next, hoping he'll get you as his sparring partner again.

For once he allows himself to be drawn into conversation, answering your questions on how to improve your technique as you walk out of the gym side by side.

The better he gets to know you, the more he has to keep reminding himself to stay away from you, that you're too sweet for him. But, oh, it's hard; he enjoys your company so much. Garrick has caught on, too, teasing him about what he calls his crush on the sunshine girl every time he sees him talking to you. And though Xaden vehemently denies having such a silly thing as a crush, he can't even convince himself of that, let alone his best friend. Having known him as long as he does, Garrick always sees right through him.

The relief Xaden feels at Threshing when he lands and spots you already standing on the flight field in front of a Red is immense. He quickly shoves the feeling down, preferring not to think about what it implies. He does not have a crush, and the last thing he needs is for his dragon to think him a lovesick fool and change its mind about bonding him while it still can. He feels the unfamiliar presence of her in the back of his mind, her golden eyes piercing into him after he dismounts.

He feels all the other people's gazes on him, too, the disapproving stares from where leadership is seated on the dais, their disdain for him permeating the very air. He keeps his head high as he walks to the rollkeeper, refusing to so much as look at the people who'd doubtlessly been hoping he would meet his end in the woods today.

Blood keeps trickling into his eye from the cut Sgaeyl gave him. It stings, but the annoyance of it is worse than the pain. Pain is fine. But constantly having to blink away the blood blurring his vision, feeling it run down his cheek like tears — it makes his skin crawl with discomfort. He's not going to seek out the professors giving first-aid, though. Bothersome as it might be, it's just a little cut, and he can't afford to look weak.

As he walks back to Sgaeyl, his eyes automatically find you in the crowd of mingling first-years, just as they always do. You're watching him, too, but unlike everyone else whose gazes darken, you smile at the sight of him. When you notice him looking, you wave and start toward him. As you get closer, Xaden notes a split in your lip and a blood-soaked bandage around your thigh, but since you're hardly even limping, Xaden assumes that the injury can't be very bad. No, if anything, there's even more of a spring to your walk than usual, your hair bouncing with every step.

Instead of stopping in front of him when you reach him, you throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight, and suddenly, Xaden doesn't remember how to breathe. No one just hugs him out of nowhere like that. No one would even dream of hugging him at all. And yet here you are, doing just that and apparently thinking nothing of it, judging by the easy smile on your face when you let go after a couple of seconds.

"I'm glad you made it," you say. "I mean, I never doubted it, but still."

"I'm glad you made it, too," he admits, quiet enough that none of the people nearby will hear. He allows himself to return your smile, just for a moment, absentmindedly lifting his hand to wipe blood from his eye again. Your gaze immediately snags on the cut, a small crease appearing between your own brows.

"Your dragon?" you ask.

Xaden nods.

"You'd think the relics they'll give us should be enough to mark us as theirs, but apparently not. Mine stabbed me in the thigh."

"Daggertail?"

"Swordtail. Went right through and back out on the other side, but luckily she didn't cut through anything important." You shrug, the grin reappearing on your face as you tilt your head to the side, studying him. "That'll be one hell of a badass scar you're gonna have there."

Xaden bites back another smile, watching with slight confusion as you remove the kerchief you're wearing around your neck today. For a moment, Xaden catches a flash of glitter dotting the black cloth, then it's too close to see clearly as you bring the balled up fabric to his brow and dab up the blood. Your touch is much gentler than his own, and, with the cloth soaking up the blood, much more effective, too.

After a few seconds you pull back, pressing your now bloody neckerchief into his hand. "Keep it."

"Thanks," he mutters past the lump he suddenly seems to have in his throat.

He'll never get used to how kind you are. It's such a little thing, to notice how much the blood in his eye was bothering him and do something about it, and yet it means more to him than you could ever know. It'll probably take a while until the wound completely stops bleeding, but with your kerchief to wipe at it, at least it won't bleed all over his face anymore.

He pretends to listen as you start rambling about your dragon and the thrill of the short flight here, and though Xaden agrees that there's nothing that can compare to the feeling of flying, he can't focus enough to keep up with the sheer endless rush of words. It should be annoying, he thinks. The constant happy babbling, the needless touching — even now you're standing much closer than necessary, shaking his arm as you bounce on your feet while telling him about a particularly exciting part of approaching Milis. If anyone else did that, he'd shove them away to get some space, tell them to stop being so childish. But for some reason it doesn't bother him when you're the one doing it.

Spotting Garrick in the crowd, Xaden hurriedly uses the excuse to walk away toward his best friend. Turning his mind to more practical matters, he forces his thoughts away from you with great difficulty, still reeling from your unreasonable kindness.

After Threshing, something changes, and Xaden finds himself spending more and more time in your company. Maybe it's just that you and him are slowly crystalizing out to be the most powerful in your squad. Or maybe he's going down a slippery slope, no idea where it might lead but unable to stop the descent.

Too sweet, that's what you are. But then, Xaden has always liked sweet things. He remembers when he was a child, being told that all those sugary things he liked so much would hurt his teeth. With you, he feels similar to how he did then; afraid of the hurt he might be causing himself in the long run and wishing to preserve himself from it, but unable to resist the immediate temptation of sweetness. He craves it, that contrast you bring to the usual bitterness that is his life.

And it's refreshing to be around someone who isn't scared of him, even if he still doesn't understand why you aren't intimidated of him like everyone else. Despite your easygoing attitude and bubbly personality, you're far from a fool, unrelenting and self-preservative when need be.

It's an uncomfortable thought, the idea that maybe you're seeing past the stoic facade he keeps, know that he wouldn't hurt you unless you hurt him first. He's not used to people seeing him for who he is anymore, only for who he has to be. The Great Betrayer's son, the heir apparent, the revolution's leader. Traitor or hero, depending on who you ask. But with you, he can simply be Xaden. It scares him, that vulnerability you bring out in him, but he'd be lying if he claimed not to like how simple everything seems when he's with you.

The only difficulty is the secrets he is forced to keep. Luckily, you're very understanding when he says he doesn't want to talk about anything to do with his father's rebellion, and if you suspect that he's up to anything illegal, you don't show it. Some of it — like the meetings with all the marked ones in the quadrant to make sure everyone is helping each other get by — he could probably trust you with. By now, he knows you well enough to know you wouldn't immediately jump to the worst conclusions, would probably even help him sneak out. But in a way, the worst possible conclusions are uncomfortably close to the truth, and he can't risk revealing even such a comparatively harmless secret. No, the less you know, the better — for both of you.

Enjoy your company as he might, sometimes it does grate on his nerves, that seemingly endless happy energy you radiate. Like today, sitting at breakfast and tired out of his mind as he sips on his second mug of coffee when you come bouncing into the gathering hall, fresh from the gym. If he didn't know you get up before sunrise every morning to lift weights with another girl from your squad before breakfast, he'd think you came straight from your bed after a full night's sleep. Of course, even with getting up almost two hours earlier than necessary, you're most certainly still getting more sleep than he is.

Sliding into your usual seat beside him, you greet everyone with more enthusiasm than anyone should have at this time of morning. Xaden returns only the barest of nods, which is more than he's spared anyone else so far. He can already tell this is not going to be his day, and he doesn't feel like wasting energy on being sociable.

You know better than to take it personally, humming a happy little melody under your breath as you start to eat.

As much as Xaden normally enjoys the sound of your voice, the noise in the hall is already bad enough, and he doesn't need you adding to it. "Would you stop that?" he snaps, more harshly than he had intended.

You fall quiet with an apologetic smile, and Xaden immediately feels bad about losing his patience on you.

He downs the rest of his coffee, contemplating whether or not getting another mug of it would help his mood. Probably not, but it's worth a try to keep from snapping at you again. You're trying to be considerate, doubtlessly having noticed that the dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced than usual, but it simply isn't in your nature to be quiet for long. He likes that — most of the time, at least. The silence he takes refuge in can feel suffocating at times; having you around to break it makes life decidedly more bearable.

"Maybe you'd be less tired if you tried going to bed a little earlier," you tease.

The glare he levels on you is the kind that would have a lesser person shrinking in their seat, as evident by the wary looks from your squadmates, but you're not intimidated in the least. If anything, your smile only widens.

Unbelievable.

"How do you want to know what time I go to bed?"

You shrug. "You know I have the room next to yours. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and when I look out of the window then there's always light coming from your window."

"Stalker," he mutters, rolling his eyes when you giggle. The sound effortlessly melts away the worst of his irritation, leaving him still tired and moody, but decidedly less likely to kill anyone for testing his patience.

"I wasn't stalking you on purpose," you defend yourself, the laughter lingering in your voice, "I just like looking at the snow in the moonlight. It's always so pretty, don't you think?"

Xaden shrugs. It's been a long time since he's spared any thought to the beauty of nature. The next time he can't sleep — which is almost all the time — he'll try to enjoy the nightly view from his window too, he decides, if only so he can understand what you like about it.

"The snow would be all nice and well if we didn't have to fly in it," your squadmate inserts themself into the conversation. "Have you seen how much is coming down right now?"

You nod. "Maybe it'll let up until our turn on the flight field. Milis says if this keeps up, she and the other dragons might just refuse to show up." Quieter, only for Xaden, you add, "Let's hope they don't, then you can use the time for a nap instead."

"I don't need a nap," he grumbles back, just as quietly. Truth be told, he probably could use one, but if he were able to sleep, he wouldn't be this tired.

"You sure? I'll even sing you a lullaby if you'd like."

You wink at him, grinning in that way only you can, and Xaden knows that despite your playful manner, you're serious about helping him fall asleep if you can.

He shakes his head, smiling against his will. "You're a dork."

"And you're an insomniac."

"I'm fine."

"Whatever you say."

People's intimidation of him turns to outright fear once his signet manifests, shadows stirring wherever he goes. As usual, you're the exception. Your eyes shine with awe and something like pride as you watch him demonstrate his newfound powers to you with rapt fascination, not a trace of fear to be found.

"That's amazing!" You bring a hand to the shadow closest to you, gingerly brushing your fingers along it. Xaden feels goosebumps rise on his skin, as if it had been him you touched. "They're actually solid! How is that even possible?"

"No idea," Xaden admits. "I'm only just starting to figure out how it works."

As his signet grows stronger, your shadow is the one he's most aware of. Even when you're not in the same room — or even the same building — as him, he always knows exactly where you are and what you're doing. It's not what he should be using this power for, but the shadows seem to have a mind of their own. They're very attached to you. Or maybe he's just making that up to excuse his embarrassing lack of control. It's not like he wants to be some kind of obsessive stalker; he simply can't help the fact that you're constantly on his mind.

If you have noticed that the shadows near you always seem more alive than is natural as of late, you haven't mentioned it. Not very surprising, considering you're occupied with trying to control your own water wielding signet. Xaden has taken more than one involuntary bath since it manifested a couple weeks ago, and has learned to keep his distance from you while drinking water. When you lose control, it's always him getting drenched, as though your water is drawn to him the same way his shadows are to you. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't the middle of fucking winter. You always try to remove the moisture from his clothes afterwards, but while you have already gotten a little better at it, even your best efforts don't get them any less than damp, so Xaden — or whoever else falls victim to your flood — is left either freezing his ass off in wet clothes, or making himself late to the next class by returning to his room to get changed.

Worst of all, Xaden can't even bring himself to be mad at you about it. He's no better; the only difference is that, so far, his shadows haven't tried to drown anyone.

He probably shouldn't be thinking about that incident as often as he does, and he definitely shouldn't be so giddy about it. It was hotter than it had any right to be, watching you almost murder someone on his account. It also made his heart flutter with a whole array of feelings he can't even begin to name. While Xaden obviously doesn't need your protection, the fact that you're willing to publicly stand up for him means a lot. The knowledge that you got so angry in defense of him, that you wielded enough water to flood a whole stairway without even meaning to because someone had been talking shit about him... Just thinking about it makes him more emotional than he'd like.

But while your signet can be wild and destructive, the water is usually gentle. It's an accurate reflection of you, he thinks, untamed and unpredictable, inherently soft but just as capable of terrible harm when provoked. When you're calm and in control, the water flows steadily along like the ever present stream of your chatter, lively and somehow soothing at the same time. Xaden enjoys watching it, how it can flow through even the smallest crack, how it glitters in the light. He enjoys watching you wield it even more, the look of concentration on your face, the beaming smile when you get it to do what you want. It's hypnotizing. A dangerous distraction he really can't afford. He loses track of everything else all too easily when he's with you. You're an undertow, irresistibly pulling him in, and Xaden would happily drown in your sweet waters.

When his lips finally meet yours for the first time, you taste as sweet as Xaden's favorite chocolate cake, and he's instantly addicted.

Afterward, he's not even sure how it happened. You'd been sitting in commons after doing homework together, enjoying a few more minutes of quiet in each other's presence before turning in for the night. You'd rested your head on his shoulder, smiling up at him as he teased you about already being tired so early in the evening, the only other sound the dripping of the melting snow outside the window. Then, before he even knew what he was doing, Xaden had leaned down and kissed you.

Lying in bed that night, he still can't believe it. Even harder to believe is the fact that you'd kissed back, smiling from ear to ear and gracing him with another peck of your lips when he'd wished you a good night and fled to his room. He still feels the ghost of your lips against his, imagines he can still taste you as he licks them.

Trying to form a coherent thought feels like swimming through an ocean of thick, cloying sweet honey. When he closes his eyes, there's only you. Your bright smile and soft eyes, the sound of your laugh, the feeling of your lips, over and over again. The tiny part of him still capable of logic is telling him he made a mistake, that he should stay the fuck away from you. Indulging the feelings for you, which he is no longer able to deny, can't lead anywhere good. He should turn back while he still can, for your sake as much as his own.

You deserve someone nicer, someone you won't be in danger for associating with, who doesn't have so much to hide. Someone who can openly worship the ground you walk on, prioritize you over everything else. Xaden wishes he could be that person, but the burden he took on after his father's death won't allow it.

He plans on telling you as much, but when he sees you in the hall the next morning, he can't bring himself to get the words out. Your face lights up at the sight of him, the awareness of the joy his presence brings you making his heart ache. Then you come skipping over and peck his cheek, first making sure nobody is watching, which has Xaden melting all over again. No, as much as he knows he should end this before it can really start, he simply can't.

You walk to breakfast in companionable silence, which Xaden is very grateful for. He's not ready to talk about whatever this is that's developing between you. You'll have to, eventually, he knows. He'll have to decide if he wants to accept that he's smitten and just see where this will go, vulnerability and problems that would come with it and all, or if he wants to try and shut you out. It's barely a choice, considering how he loathes every moment he's apart from you. He should have never allowed himself to get this close in the first place, but now it's too late.

"You shouldn't be seen with me so much," he tells you a few days later. The both of you are late for math because you'd been too busy making out in an empty corridor to hear the bells, and he can't help but worry what everyone will think when they see you walk in together, kiss-swollen lips and all. "People will say you associate with traitors."

The roll of your eyes is a stark contrast to the gentle tone of your voice when you reply. "People see us together all the time, Xaden. It's not any different just because we're more than friends now. And I don't care what they think, anyway. You're not a traitor, and anyone who thinks you are is an idiot and doesn't matter."

Xaden has to bite his lip to keep silent. If only you knew what he's been up to. Dragging you into the revolution is the last thing he wants, and yet, he can't help but imagine how much nicer it all would be with you by his side. With a sense of justice as strong as yours, you would certainly want to help if you knew the truth of what's out there. No matter. He's not going to put you into that danger, not with how uncertain everything still is.

Twice him and Garrick have managed to smuggle weapons out now, chancing upon a friendly drift by mere luck the first time. Twice is not enough to determine whether they'll get away with it in the long run. For all he knows, someone could already be suspecting them — which is exactly why you should not be seen with him. Even unaware as you are, it's not safe.

And what if you catch on? Xaden knows you know he has secrets, and adores you even more for not pushing the matter, but eventually, your curiosity is bound to get the best of you. If you find out about the weapons runs, he'll either have to tell you what leadership has been hiding — which will sound like madness when he has no way to prove it — or let you believe him to be a traitor without reason. He can't imagine either.

Unfortunately, you choose just then to say, "You know, I missed you at dinner yesterday."

Xaden acknowledges your comment with a nod but doesn't reply, unwilling to lie but unable to tell you that he'd snuck out with Garrick to deliver the weapons they'd stolen for the fliers.

"I'm not saying that because I want to stalk you or anything," you continue. It's become sort of a running joke between the two of you to call the other a stalker for such observations. "It's just that you had me worried. Maybe next time you could let me know when you're going to be busy?"

"Yeah. I can do that," Xaden says, praying you won't ask where he's been.

"Thank you." You smile, briefly halting your steps to give him another kiss, and Xaden is too lost in the sweetness of it to notice you've already reached the classroom until you open the door.

Despite his resolution to not let your relationship — or whatever it is — progress any further, he does. It's like any time he's near you, he loses all common sense.

Sgaeyl is getting annoyed with him, telling him to make up his mind. It is clear he's already made his decision, she says, so he might as well commit to it. She's right, of course, even if Xaden hates to admit it.

He doesn't want to be the selfish asshole he feels he's being by letting himself bask in your presence every chance he gets, by allowing himself to dream of a future with you by his side. It's unattainable, no matter how much he wants it, and yet there's a tiny part of him that dares to hope and refuses to settle for less. You may not have actually talked about your feelings so far, but Xaden knows you want a real, deeper relationship with him as much as he does. It could all be so perfect, if there weren't all those responsibilities Xaden has to think of, the lives depending on him. He can't drag you into that mess in good conscience; just imagining that inherent joy leaving your eyes as the truth destroys your faith in humanity makes him feel sick.

Maybe he could be with you without letting you find out? You always respect his privacy, never probe about the secrets you know he has.

But no, he can't keep you in the dark forever. He'll tell you, sooner or later. You deserve to know the truth, terrible as it is. You deserve to fight by his side, if you so choose. Whatever horrors the future holds, Xaden wants to face them together with you.

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," he admits one night, lying in your bed. One last, half-hearted attempt to make you see he's bad for you. And if you brush it off like you always do, he'll accept that you want him too, consequences be damned.

"What isn't?"

"Us."

"Why not?" you ask, voice as soft as the drizzle of rain falling outside the window.

There's more than a dozen reasons he could list, but most of them have to do with matters he can't — won't — tell you about. Someday he will, if the world keeps turning long enough, but for the time being, it's better you don't know.

"I'm not sweet like you," he mumbles instead.

You just smile, the way you always do when he's being difficult. "No, I guess not. But you're not the bad guy you want people to think you are, either."

"You can't possibly know that."

He thinks of everything you don't know, the secrets he's hiding. Would you still think the same of him if you knew the truth about him, everything he really is?

"I do, though. You're not a bad guy," you repeat with a gentleness he doesn't deserve. "You're just you. A survivor. Maybe a bit broody. But that's okay, 'cause I love you just the way you are."

Your fingers brush a few stray hairs from his forehead, and the last of Xaden's resolve crumbles. Neither of you had dared use the word love so far; hearing it now, Xaden wants you to say it over and over again.

"Good. Because you're not getting rid of me anymore."

"No?"

"No. Even if you probably should."

"Good." You smile, ignoring the second half of what he said, and brush your lips against his. "Now stop worrying so much and go to sleep."

[theseinfernalangels]

Rest Up — Bodhi Durran

Synopsis: After non-stop training and combat, Bodhi managed to convince you to crash for the night and lets you sleep in. Xaden is a little wary at first, but luckily, your lover makes for an excellent advocate. (Marked!Reader)

A/N: This was not something I planned to write lol; this actually came from a short conversation between me and @she-whatshername under one of her posts! Also we love to see Platonic!Xaden – people need to write him more as someone’s friend. Unedited because I’m tired lol.

.

An inhale followed by a low groan tells you that Bodhi is awake and ready for action at the crack of dawn. You should be, too – but aches lingering in your joints from the previous night prevent you from moving even an inch.

        It’s strange. Usually, you’re up and bound to seize the day even before the sun dominates the sky. Your attitude and responsibility is what earned you your role as Wingleader. But, cuddled up next to Bodhi, you can’t find it in you to actually care.

        Warm hands glide over your waist and settle over your stomach, and the next thing you know, you’re being pulled closer – if that’s even possible – into Bodhi’s hold. His lips dip and rest close to the top of your spine, right where the relic of your dragon, Spéir, comes to a head.

        “Hey, you,” he mumbles into your skin, sending a little chill through you. “You’re not up and at ‘em yet?”

        Your eyes aren’t even open yet, your words slightly slurred as you reply. 

        “No,” you reply. “I…Don’t think I can, right now. Everything still hurts after yesterday.”

        Yesterday. Bodhi lets out a soft ah of understanding. The previous day had proved nothing but troublesome for you, between the usual non-stop training you led combined with what could have been a fatal wyvern attack for you and your friends. Even after that, with blood dripping from your face and exhaustion singing in your bones, you still hadn’t relented and went straight back to training. Bodhi had been pissed.

Now, in retrospect, you realized he’d had a point; Spéir had gotten injured in yesterday’s battle, and by extension, you were suffering, too – but when had that ever slowed you down?

Here in your lover’s arms, though, you supposed you could be convinced to take a break.

He dips his head down and peppers a trail of kisses across the width of your shoulders. “Don’t even think about getting up right now. You need to rest.”

For once in your life, you don’t argue. “Wasn’t gonna. I feel like I just got bowled over by a loose cannon.”

You hear a quiet laugh leave his throat, and you let out a soft whine of protest when he starts to shift up and away from you.

“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning back down to press another kiss on your arm, right over your Rebellion Relic. The gentle brush of his lips against the mark sends a spark down your spine. “Xaden will understand if you don’t show up for formation. I don’t get that luxury.”

You snort half-heartedly. “Probably not. Jus’ tell him not to kick my ass yet; he can get the privilege once I don’t feel like shit.”

You grin weakly when you hear Bodhi bark out a laugh. You’re not looking at him, but you know exactly how he’s looking at you right now: Head tilted, eyes half-lidded, with a soft smile spread across his devastatingly-handsome face. He always looks at you like you’re the one that beckons the sun into the sky everyday, like you’re some kind of miracle that needs to be treasured at all costs. He’d probably look at you like that even if you were the sun, eyesight be damned.

“Alright,” he says, his voice clear and gentle. “Go back to sleep, love. I’ll come wake you up later, and we’ll see if a healer can do anything for you.”

You don’t even say anything back. You fell back into sleep faster than he could get his words out.

He chuckles quietly to himself. “Cute.”

༊*·˚ *ੈ

Xaden knows something is up when Bodhi shows up at formation without you.

It’s not in his cousin’s nature to ever be alone; usually, he’ll be with Xaden, a friend, or another squad member. If not them, then it’s you. When it’s not you…He doesn’t even know. Nothing bothered Bodhi Durran more than to be alone.

He simply raises an eyebrow at his cousin when he approaches. “Where the hell is Levine?”

Bodhi falls into place beside Xaden, not missing a beat. “Lovely to see you, too, on this fine morning,” he says dryly. “Nice weather we’re having.”

Xaden doesn’t smile. It’s not only unlike his cousin to be alone, but it’s certainly unlike you to not be one of the first ones there. “What happened?”

The younger boy falls silent for a second before he sighs. “I told her to go back to sleep. Everything that happened yesterday took a toll on her, and she’s not feeling too well.”

A small part of Xaden warms at his cousin’s words. Trust the boy to be able to convince you, one of the most stubborn Wingleaders, to stay in for a day for a break. It’s more impressive that he was able to get you into bed at all, but his eyebrows still furrow. “Are you…Coddling her? She’s woken up in worse situations, you know.”

He’s slightly surprised when Bodhi’s gaze snaps over to his, and they make even eye contact that borders on…something challenging.

“I’m aware,” the younger man says, his voice growing firm. “But you saw her out there yesterday. She fought harder than anyone out there, even when Spéir got hurt. And you know what? She still oversaw sparring and Battle Brief before I could even think about getting her to a healer.”

His voice lowers. “I’m not coddling her, Xaden. She doesn’t need me to do that. She’s a grown, respectable woman. I’m making sure the love of my life doesn’t burn herself out just because she likes to overwork herself. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t do the same for Violet.”

Xaden has a sharp retort for Bodhi on the tip of his tongue, but he falters at the mention of Violet. He can’t really argue with that, he realizes. He would – and has – done the exact same thing for the woman. Multiple times, actually. Xaden may be a petty man, but he’ll be damned if he ever chooses hypocrisy for the sake of making a point. 

Loosing a sigh, the older man relents with a nod. “...You got me there,” he admits. “But this will be a one-time thing, Durran. She’s in charge of too much for multiple days off.”

Bodhi’s protective front fades a little, and one of his usual charming smiles graces his face. “I know,” he says. “I could barely convince her to come to bed last night. You know she’d rather be stabbed than take a breather.”

Xaden mutters in agreement. It was honestly a little concerning how hard and often you worked – But, then again, he wouldn’t dare complain. He knew you had your reasons, and for every ounce of respect you’d shown him over the years, then he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat…Even if he wouldn’t admit that to anyone outside his circle

“Get in formation,” he orders quickly. “If you can, wake her up in a few hours. I’m sure Cadet Kiyoko is working today, if you can catch her before her break.”

He doesn’t miss Bodhi’s eyeroll, but he chooses to let it slide. “Aye, Your Highness.”

༊*·˚ *ੈ

The hallway is mostly silent by the time Xaden slinks up to the door to Bodhi’s room. It wouldn’t take a genius to know that you hadn’t bothered going back to your own room; in fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if his cousin had just picked you up and hauled you over his shoulder to his bed. It wasn’t out of character. Xaden had seen the former do it enough times to know where the two of you would end up every time.

He leans against the wall, his eyes sliding over the door. Bodhi was always a little too eager with wards, as if he only ever wanted the two of you to be in his room at any given time. Oh, well. It wasn’t like Xaden wasn’t the exact same way with him and his weapon of a girlfriend.

He can’t get into Bodhi’s room right now – not when you’re in there – but Xaden is lucky to have a way around that. Lips twitching, he points a finger and watches a tendril of shadow slither under the door and into the room. The sudden absence of sunlight from under the threshold tells him everything he needs to know: The room, probably blazing in glorious Aretian sunlight, is now dimmed, allowing you to sleep without too much of a disturbance.

The man silently commands the shadow to stay and then stalks away, making sure nobody sees him turning out of the corridor.

Bodhi was fantastic at taking care of you – but Xaden, for all the love and light you’ve given his cousin throughout the past few years, would always oblige to do the same. It was only fair.

[soulofapatrick]

I'm Not Watching You - Ridoc Gamlyn x Female Reader

Summary: Ridoc catches you staring at him

Warnings: fluff; flirting; implied smut to happen

Words: 2.7K

Notes: I can do a smutty part two hehehe

Y/N’s POV 

The dining hall at Basgiath buzzes with the chaotic symphony of clinking goblets, hearty laughter, and the metallic scrape of knives against plates. The air smells of roasted meat and spiced ale, mingling with the smoky scent of the torches lining the walls. Our squad claims one end of a long wooden table near the center of the room. Despite the cacophony, our corner feels lighter than usual, celebratory even. We’ve made it through another week of training—still breathing, still together—and that alone feels like something worth toasting.

Ridoc Gamlyn sits across from me, lounging in his chair like the rules of gravity don’t apply to him. His brown skin glows in the warm light of the torches, and his floppy brown hair—forever unruly—falls into his face no matter how often he shoves it back. There’s a spark in his dark eyes, a mischief that matches the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He’s spinning a fork between his fingers, the casual rhythm oddly mesmerising, and I find myself staring.

Big mistake.

“You’ve been staring at me all night, love,” Ridoc drawls, his voice cutting through the din with effortless precision. He sets the fork down with a deliberate clink and leans forward, the gleam in his eyes making my stomach twist. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

I stiffen, heat rising to my cheeks as I scramble for a response. “I’m not staring at you.”

His eyebrows shoot up, his expression dripping with faux innocence. “Oh? Then who were you looking at? Barlowe? Imogen?” He grins, leaning even closer, his head tilting just enough for that ridiculous mop of hair to flop sideways. “Or maybe you’ve finally realised how devastatingly handsome I look in candlelight.”

I snort, rolling my eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck. “Candlelight? What century do you think this is?”

“It’s called ambiance, darling,” Ridoc says, completely unfazed. He spreads his arms wide, gesturing to the flickering torches. “Something you clearly haven’t learned to appreciate.”

“You’re insufferable,” I mutter, shoving a piece of bread into my mouth to keep from smiling.

Ridoc notices anyway—because of course he does—and his smirk transforms into a triumphant grin. “Ah, there it is. You’re smiling. That counts as a win for me.”

“It doesn’t,” I shoot back, though the words lack conviction.

“Sure it does,” he says, sitting back again with the kind of casual confidence that sets my teeth on edge. His chair creaks dangerously under his weight, but he doesn’t seem to care. “I always win.”

Imogen, seated a few spots down, snickers and raises her goblet in our direction. “Ridoc, leave her alone before she stabs you with her dinner knife.”

Ridoc’s grin widens. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried,” he says, winking at me.

I groan and pick up my cup of water, draining it in one long sip to avoid saying something I’ll regret. He’s relentless, a constant thorn in my side—and yet, for reasons I can’t fully understand, I don’t hate it.

As the night wears on, the squad’s conversations shift to trading stories from the week. Close calls in training, spectacular failures during drills, and ridiculous mistakes that somehow didn’t get anyone killed. Ridoc’s quick wit earns plenty of laughs, but I can’t help noticing how his gaze keeps flickering back to me, as if checking to see if I’m still paying attention.

It’s maddening.

I hate how aware I am of him—the way his laughter sends a strange ache through my chest, the way his teasing feels oddly personal, like it’s meant for me and no one else.

Eventually, the others start drifting away, one by one, until it’s just Ridoc and me left at the table. The noise of the dining hall fades to a distant hum, leaving an almost intimate stillness between us.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Ridoc says, his voice softer now, the usual teasing edge absent. He rests his elbows on the table, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm against the wood.

I shrug, unsure how to respond. “Just thinking about the squad. How lucky we’ve been.”

Ridoc nods, his expression unusually thoughtful. “Yeah. Not everyone’s got what we have. Iron Squad’s something special.”

He pauses, his fingers stilling as he meets my gaze. “And so are you, you know.”

I blink, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says, his tone lighter now, though his eyes stay serious. “You’re sharp. Fierce. And you keep me on my toes, which I appreciate more than I probably should.”

My stomach twists again, and this time I know it’s not from the wine. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” I manage, my voice quieter than I’d like.

Ridoc grins, but it’s softer now, lacking the usual bravado. “It’s a compliment. Trust me.”

For once, I think he might actually mean it.

He stands abruptly, pushing his chair back with a scrape that echoes through the nearly empty hall. “Get some rest, love,” he says, tipping an imaginary hat before turning to leave.

I should let him go—I really should—but the words spill out before I can stop them. “Wait.”

Ridoc pauses, glancing back over his shoulder with a curious tilt of his head. “What’s this? You actually want me to stay?”

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the rapid thudding of my heart. “Don’t make it weird, Gamlyn.”

His smirk returns, slow and deliberate, as he steps closer. “Too late. But I’ll bite—what is it?”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come. The tension between us feels electric, crackling in the air like a storm about to break.

Ridoc stops just in front of me, close enough that I can see the faint freckles dusting his nose and the way his dark eyes gleam in the low light. His gaze drops briefly to my lips before flicking back up to meet mine.

“Say the word, and I’ll leave,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “But if you don’t…”

I don’t let him finish.

Before I can second-guess myself, I grab the front of his jacket and pull him down. Our lips collide, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist. He’s warm and solid, his hands finding my waist as he kisses me back with a fierceness that takes my breath away.

When we finally break apart, I’m left gasping, my pulse pounding in my ears. Ridoc’s smirk is gone, replaced by something softer, something real.

“Well,” he says, his forehead resting lightly against mine. “That was unexpected.”

“Shut up, Ridoc,” I whisper, but there’s no bite to the words.

His grin returns, bright and genuine. “You know, I could get used to this.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I warn, though I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

Ridoc chuckles, his thumb brushing softly against my side. “Too late.”

And just like that, everything shifts. It’s still us—but better. Something new, something I’m not sure I want to let go of.

The dining hall feels distant now, the noise fading into a comforting hum as Ridoc’s hand lingers on my waist. His touch is warm, grounding in a way that makes me want to lean in, even as my brain screams at me to step back. I shouldn’t feel this way—not about him—but there’s something disarming about the way his eyes meet mine, steady and unguarded.

“You’re staring now,” I manage, my voice softer than intended, like I’m trying to break the tension without shattering it completely.

Ridoc chuckles, low and quiet, his thumb tracing idle circles against my side. “Can you blame me?”

“Yes,” I reply, though the word falters, betraying the conviction I wish I had.

His smirk softens, and for once, it’s free of his usual bravado. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmurs, and the way he says it feels less like teasing and more like truth.

“Ridoc…” I warn, though it comes out weak, almost breathless.

“Alright, alright.” He steps back slightly, giving me space but not entirely letting go. His hands hover, like he’s not quite ready to lose the connection. “I’ll behave. For now.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to reclaim some semblance of control. “That’s a first.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he fires back, the grin creeping back onto his face. “I make no promises.”

I roll my eyes, but the smile I’m fighting slips through anyway. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says, tilting his head with mock innocence, “you kissed me. Funny how that works.”

Heat floods my face, and I shove lightly at his chest. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Ridoc laughs, his gaze bright and alive with something I can’t name. “Not a chance, love.”

The easy banter fades into a quiet moment, the kind that feels heavier than it should. Ridoc shifts, his confidence softening at the edges as he glances down at our hands, his fingers brushing against mine. “Dinner tomorrow?” he asks, the question casual but his tone anything but.

I blink, caught off guard. “You’re asking me on a date?”

His grin is still there, but it’s gentler now, almost shy. “I mean, we’ve already kissed. Might as well see where this goes.”

Something in his sincerity makes my chest tighten. Ridoc, insufferable flirt and relentless tease, is suddenly serious in a way that feels terrifying and exciting all at once. I hesitate, the weight of the moment pressing against me, before finally nodding.

“Fine,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “But if you bring up candlelight even once, I’m stabbing you with a dinner knife.”

Ridoc’s laugh is warm and unapologetic as he takes my hand, his thumb brushing against my knuckles. “Noted.”

Ridoc falls into step beside me, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as we make our way down the dimly lit hallway. The flickering torches on the walls cast long shadows, but his presence is anything but subtle. He walks so close that our arms brush every few steps, and the air between us seems to hum with a tension neither of us is quite ready to name.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he drawls, his tone lazy, like he’s savouring the moment. “Planning your next move? Or just imagining all the ways you’re going to stab me with a dinner knife?”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to smile. “Maybe both.”

He chuckles, low and warm, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine. “You’ve got quite the imagination. Should I be flattered that I’ve taken up so much space in that pretty little head of yours?”

I roll my eyes, though the corners of my mouth betray me by twitching upward. “It’s less ‘taking up space’ and more ‘annoying squatter I can’t evict.’”

Ridoc places a hand over his heart, feigning a wounded expression. “Ouch. And here I thought we were making progress. Guess I’ll have to work harder.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” I retort, though the playful edge in my voice robs the words of any real sting.

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Oh, I won’t. You’re worth the effort.”

That makes me falter, my breath hitching just enough for him to notice. His grin widens, and I hate that he catches every little crack in my defences. It’s like he’s made a game out of unraveling me, and worse, he’s annoyingly good at it.

By the time we reach my door, the weight of the moment feels heavier, charged with something that wasn’t there before—or maybe it was, and I’d just been ignoring it. I stop in front of the wooden frame, my hand hovering over the doorknob as I try to decide if I’m ready to let this—whatever this is—go any further.

Ridoc leans casually against the doorframe, his body angled toward me, his hand braced above my head. He’s so close now that I can feel the heat radiating off him, and I have to fight the urge to step back—or closer. His gaze searches mine, the teasing glint in his eyes tempered by something softer, more sincere.

“You’re staring again,” I say quietly, trying to regain some semblance of control.

He doesn’t flinch. “Maybe I am. Can you blame me?”

I open my mouth to answer, but the words get stuck in my throat when his free hand comes up to brush a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger at my jaw, his touch warm and grounding, and suddenly the door at my back feels like the only thing keeping me upright.

“You should stop,” I manage to say, though my voice wavers.

His lips curve into a soft, knowing smile. “Do you really want me to?”

Damn him. Damn the way he looks at me, like he’s seeing something no one else does. Like he’s daring me to stop hiding and meet him halfway. My silence is answer enough, and his gaze flickers down to my lips for just a moment before returning to my eyes.

“I should probably say goodnight,” he murmurs, though he doesn’t move an inch. “But I don’t really want to.”

“Then don’t,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

That’s all the permission he needs. Ridoc closes the gap between us, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s as infuriatingly confident as he is. His hand slides to my waist, pulling me flush against him, and the intensity of it steals the breath from my lungs. There’s nothing tentative about the way he kisses me; it’s all heat and certainty, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as I have.

I fist my hands in the front of his shirt, anchoring myself as the world tilts beneath my feet. He kisses me like he has all the time in the world, his lips moving against mine with a maddening mixture of tenderness and hunger. When his tongue brushes against mine, I gasp softly, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his grip on my waist tightening.

By the time we break apart, we’re both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting together. Ridoc’s eyes are darker now, his smirk gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “You know that?”

I let out a shaky laugh, trying to ignore the rapid pounding of my heart. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches upward, but there’s an earnestness in his expression that takes me off guard. He raises his hand, his thumb brushing softly along my jawline. “So… do I get to come inside, or are you going to make me sleep in the hallway after that?”

I arch a brow, reaching for the door handle behind me. “You’re awfully confident for someone who’s pushing their luck.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he says with a wink, though the way his eyes flicker down to my lips betrays just how much he’s hedging his bets.

Instead of answering, I twist the doorknob and push the door open, the wood creaking softly. His smirk falters for half a second, replaced by genuine surprise, but I don’t give him a chance to recover. I grab the front of his shirt and tug him inside, the door clicking shut behind us.

His hands are on me in an instant, his lips finding mine again with renewed fervour. This time, there’s no hesitation, no testing the waters. It’s all fire and heat, the kind of kiss that leaves no room for second-guessing. His hands slide down my back, pulling me even closer, and I let myself get lost in him, in the way he kisses me like I’m the only thing that matters.

“Shut up, Ridoc,” I whisper against his lips, and for once, he actually listens.

Part Two Here ⇒ You Can Watch Me

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

[hufflepuffwriter1995]

Hey all! So here is the thing, I am going to start doing requests. I am in the mood to write and wanted to do small, short imagines along with my fics. So I thought, let's have some fun with this and open it to the people! So please feel free to send in some imagines!

I write for:

BTS

Stray Kids

The Rose

All Time Low

Seventeen

Niall Horan

Harry Potter

Supernatural

Fourth Wing

SJM (ACOTAR, TOG)

Hunger Games (Katniss, Gale, Peeta, Haymitch, Effie and Finnick)

Twilight

Please don't worry about being overly detailed. You can give as much or as little details as you like!

[bludhavents]

As Long as You Know Me

Pairing: Liam Mairi x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: As a child of the rebellion, your birthday failing on Reunification Day stirs up a swarm of emotion. When your friends try to celebrate, Liam comes to your rescue... in his boxers.

Warnings: Grief, parent loss, fem!reader. Little angsty, but lots of fluff included. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Long time no see :) You can send in any requests, sign up to join my tag list, and read my previous works all through my bio, tehe! I have lots more Fourth Wing content on the way. I hope you enjoy, comment for a part 2!

July 1st was an open wound. As a child of the rebellion, it marks the day that I was forced to watch my parents be executed for fighting for a better life. July 1st is the day that Lillian Sorrengail ruined my life.

It’s the day she ironically declared “Reunification Day”, as if she hadn’t torn apart families and orphaned so many children.

July 1st was also the day that I was born. Every year since I turned eleven, my birthday has been tainted by the cruelty of the General and her misguided sense of justice.

This year, my birthday starts with her drunk daughter knocking on my door.

“Take it!” Violet urges, trying to pass me a shot of liquor. I make no move to reach for it. 

Her, Rhiannon, Ridoc, and Sawyer are all standing at my door with cheery grins across their faces and dazed looks in their eyes. They don’t have nightmares of watching their parents die. On the worst day of my life, they were probably out celebrating with their families, smiling at the rebels’ defeat. I spent that night alone. I spent it with a cursed mark running up my skin forever. 

“What’s going on?” I stifle a yawn behind my hand, wrapping my blanket tighter around my shoulders as I face them. 

“You’re twenty-one!” Rhiannon’s words slur as she claps me on the shoulder. “Drink up, birthday girl!”

“What time is it?” I blink at them. Ridoc’s smile falls into a line of annoyance quickly. 

“You’re really ruining this, you know?” He chastises. I raise my eyebrows and look across the rest of the faces in front of me, eight eyes watching me with weaning anticipation. Sawyer sways on his feet and I notice the moonlight coming through the hallway window behind him. 

“What time is it?” I ask again, staring at Sorrengail this time. She’s chewing her bottom lip. The shot in her hand is about to pour over the edges.

“It’s midnight,” Rhiannon explains as if it’s obvious. 

“For fuck’s sake,” I complain, running a hand down my face. I move to shut the door, but Ridoc protests, pushing it open and letting himself into my room. The rest follow him without question. My stomach rolls at the smell of booze they bring into the room.

“It smells nice in here,” he compliments, sitting on my bed. I disagree.

“What are you guys doing?” I sigh in frustration. “It’s late. You woke me up.”

There’s a part of me that feels guilty for my lack of enthusiasm at their excitement, but the larger--tired-- part of me is overwhelmingly disappointed by their lack of thoughtfulness. It doesn’t take a lot of tact to refrain from initiating a celebration on the day of someone’s traumatic event. Yet somehow, they still managed to surprise me in the worst way.

Have none of them thought that maybe I wouldn’t want to celebrate my birthday? Have they possibly considered that I didn’t tell them about it for a reason? The mark that swirls up my arm was no secret. They know what today means to me. 

“We’re celebrating. It’s your birthday. Quit whining,” he complains. “What do you want to do? We could still go into town.”

“I want to go to bed.” I lean against my open door frame and stare at my friends who are now scattered across my room. Violet places the shot on my desk before dropping her body on to my chair. Rhiannon has a handle of liquor in her hands and is drinking from the bottle. I cringe. 

“But it’s your birthday,” she whines. 

“Happy birthday,” Sawyer coos, pulling me into a hug. I groan and gently push him back. 

“I appreciate you all, but it’s really late, and I’m tired, and I don’t celebrate my birthday, so I think you guys should take this party elsewhere,” I explain, hoping that my reasoning can make itself known without me having to spell it out. My rebellion relic tingles on my skin. Rhiannon whines loudly and shrieks as she almost drops her bottle of liquor. I cross my eyebrows. 

A loud slam of a door echos down the hallway and I hold my breath, hoping that nobody else has come to join this dreadful birthday party.

“Are you okay?” Liam is in my room immediately, and I feel my shoulders relax slightly. The first thing he does is place a hand on my shoulder, scanning my face for injury and finding none to warrant the pained expression on my face. His eyes starts searching the room wildly before he seems to put the pieces of the scene together himself. “Oh. I heard a scream.”

“Sorry.” Rhiannon frowns. Violet stifles a giggle. My eyes catch the liquid dripping out of the corner of her mouth before she wipes it away with her sleeve.

“Now you can join the party,” Ridoc says from my bed. Liam says nothing.

I step toward him, letting his strong arm loop around my waist and bring me into his side. I let out a deep breath and he pulls me in tighter, the both of us exchanging a thousand words without speaking. 

“What’re you wearing?” Violet asks him, wobbling as she stands from my chair. She stumbles over the edge of my rug as she approaches him, and Sawyer is quick to catch her before she hits the ground. I turn my face into Liam’s side, unable to watch this shit show any longer. He straightens beside me, bringing a hand to cradle the back of my head.

“Are any of you guys sober?” Liam asks. I feel his voice rumbling in his chest as he does. 

“Nope!” Ridoc pops the p and pulls a flask out of his pocket. He tosses it to Liam, who watches it fall to the ground two feet in front of him. “Oops.”

Sawyer has his arm around Violet’s waist, steadying her as she clings onto his shirt for balance. Rhiannon is sprawled on my floor, shoes kicked off, with the bottle to her lips again. Ridoc is now under my covers with his head on my pillow. I grumble.

“What’s going on here?” A new person steps into the drunken circus that has invaded my room and I throw my head back in frustration, not having asked for any of this.

I miss my life ten minutes ago, when I was fast asleep in bed.

“Couldn’t tell you.” I look across Liam and meet Xaden’s eyes. The two of them whisper something back and forth before Xaden nods once and takes a further step into my room. His first stop is the flask on the floor, then the bottle in Rhiannon’s hand, then the now-empty shot glass on my desk. 

“Back to your own rooms, cadets. Be sober by morning, we will be having a discussion about this with Aetos.” He walks toward the door, holding it open with his foot as Sawyer drags Violet out of the room. Liam and I step out of the way, breaking our embrace to give them room to move. I notice Violet’s eyes lingering on the wingleader, but he doesn’t so much as look her way as she’s pulled to her room. Rhiannon leaves next, smiling cluelessly as she carries her shoes in her hands.

“Happy birthday,” she says, throwing her arms around my neck in a hug. Her boots slam against my back and I wince. She leans all of her weight on me and nearly drags me down as she hangs from my neck. I unwrap her from me and she walks out. 

“Love you.” Ridoc slings an arm around my shoulders and tries to guide me out of the room with him. 

“Cadet Gamlyn.” He lets go at the sound of Xaden’s voice. The older boy shuts the door as soon as everyone is out, leaving only myself, Liam, and him. We all breathe out. “What was that all about?”

“They found out it was my birthday. I don’t know if they’ve even put together that it’s the same day,” I answer, not needing to expand on what ‘same day' means to this crowd. Both of the men in front of me were there to watch their loved ones die alongside mine. They understand the storm of grief stirring in my stomach. I sit on the edge of my bed, huffing at the disarray of my comforter.

“You were with them?” Xaden accuses Liam, who moves to sit next to me. 

“No. I came in when I heard someone scream. I thought someone had come in and tried to hurt her or something.” He yawns, and I remember that it’s midnight. He must have been asleep just before he came in. His light hair is tousled on top of his head, and I notice for the first time that he wears only a pair of loose, black boxers. I avert my stare and bite my lip as my face heats at the realization of his muscled legs pressed up against the thin fabric of my nightdress. I swallow hard.

Xaden, on the other hand, is still wearing his training gear. I’m not surprised. I can’t imagine that he’ll be attempting to sleep tonight. Being the son of Fen Riorson makes today a little more complicated. 

He sits in my desk chair and puts his head in his hands, sighing deeply. I lean my head to the side and lay it on Liam’s bare shoulder. His head turns and he presses a soft kiss to my hair, leaving his face to rest there. 

The three of us sit there silently grieving with one another.

I let my mind wander to the birthdays I celebrated before the dreadful day I turned eleven. I remember my father making heart-shaped waffles for breakfast every year and letting me drown them in whipped cream and chocolate syrup. I remember my mother waking me up by climbing into bed with me and kissing my forehead. I remember my last happy birthday with them, when we were all crying from laughter because the bakery spelled almost every word on the cake wrong. When we were all alive.

I think of my mother’s laughter, her loud snorts that would send us all further into a fit of giggles. I think of how my father would always put a hand on his gut when he was really tickled by a joke. I’ll never forget either of their joy, throughout everything. 

I’ll never forget that Lillian Sorrengail robbed me of experiencing that ever again. I’ll never forget that she robbed my future children of their grandparents. I’ll never forget that she had the audacity to grieve for her son and her husband when they died years later, as if she hadn’t inflicted that pain onto so many other families.

My mind flits back to the present when Liam begins rubbing his hand up and down my bicep. I inhale deeply through my nose, trying to ground myself back in reality. The boy beside me smells like citrus and rain, and I breathe it in again. His touch is soft and delicate, such a loving motion that sweeps my heart into a flurry. I sigh into him.

My eyes wander my room, landing on the confiscated liquor Xaden set on my desktop. His large body is still in my tiny chair, but now he’s slumped forward, eyes closed, and breathing deeply. My lips turn upward.

I sit up straight, facing Liam. He looks back at me, his eyes glossy. I feel my heart crack in my chest at the sight, but shove the pain down where I store the rest of today’s feelings. My finger rests on my lips to warn him to stay quiet and he nods, licking his lips. I pull my eyes away from the action and then point to where Xaden is asleep in my chair. A small grin rises on Liam’s mouth and I raise my palm to my mouth, stifling a laugh.

In all the years that I’ve known Xaden Riorson, I’ve never seen him without the crease between his eyebrows and the tension tightening his jaw. Looking at him now, he’s perfectly peaceful. His breaths are even and deep in the too-small chair. His skin is free from any stress lines. His lips are slightly parted and his hair is hanging loosely. Gentle snores fall from his mouth.

I draw my eyes back to Liam to see him sitting back on his hands and staring at the rare sight, too. In this position, every muscle in his upper body is perfectly displayed. His forearms, biceps, shoulders, chest, abs. I drag my eyes up his body and back to his pretty face.

“Do you want to sleep in here, too?” I offer to him in a whisper. We both know that, despite my wandering eyes, I’m offering because of the pain we are both going to be in once we’re alone. It’s easier to ride the grief out together. He nods once and adjusts himself on my bed.

Now, he’s sitting up straight against my headboard, legs extended out. He holds my gaze and shoots me a boyish grin as he kicks his feet into my lap. The look on his face is enough to seize my thoughts for a moment, and I have to blink to regain my senses.

With a roll of my eyes, I lift his legs off of me. I slide my throw blanket off of my shoulders and move across the room, draping it gently over Xaden’s body. I move back to the bed quietly, where I grab the top corners of my comforter and pull them up with me as I scoot to where Liam is perched at the head of the mattress. We sit shoulder-to-shoulder. I gather the material of the comforter and pull it over our laps. 

“Should we move him?” His voice is loud enough for me to hear, but low enough that the sleeping boy couldn’t hear it from across the square room. 

“I don’t think so.” I match his quiet tone. “He needs the sleep. If we wake him up he’s just going to leave. I think it’s best for him to be with us.”

“You’re very thoughtful,” he praises, and my stomach flutters. Liam Mairi has always been a kind boy. For him to be kind under the covers with me in his boxers was a whole new experience, though, and it was one I hoped to find myself in again as soon as possible.

His toned stomach is expanding and deflating so hypnotically that I find my lips parting as I watch helplessly. My eyes drift to the trail of hair that begins below his navel and continues into the waistband of his bottoms.

“What’re you thinking about?”

My face heats as I tear my eyes away from his body and meet his burning gaze, and I shrug. 

“I’m a little rubbed the wrong way by my impromptu birthday party,” I supplement instead of revealing my actual thoughts. He lifts his arm from next to mine and drapes it around my shoulders, bringing me closer to him until my head is resting on his chest again. I adjust my legs on the bed and let myself get comfortable against his solid wall of muscle.

“I’m sorry. I get it. Do you remember that guy who tried to kill me during our first training fight?” I nod against his chest, tracing lazy circles along his skin with the tip of my index finger. “Well I kept an eye on him after that. He fought four other people, and only tried to kill the ones with rebellion relics.”

“Oh, Liam.” I turn my head to look at him and find his soft blue eyes looking toward Xaden’s sleeping form. “I’m so sorry. I wish things were different.”

“Me too. It’s just hard whenever we have to deal with things like that and our friends don’t. They probably don’t even realize what today means for us, because they’ve been celebrating it for so long without having to think about what we went through on the other side.” He shrugs his arm off my shoulder and moves it up and down the back of my night dress, making me shiver. It feels like the heat of his touch is burning right through the fabric and into my skin. I have to remind myself to breathe.

We sit like that in silence for a few minutes until he speaks again. “Can I turn the light off?”

I nod, holding back a groan when he moves his body away from mine and leaves me in my bed that suddenly feels too big without him. His footsteps are quiet as he moves across the room and flicks the switch. I lift the blanket up for him and he laughs softly, sliding in and laying his head on my pillow. He extends his arm for me to lay on, and I do, resting my head where his shoulder and bicep meet. 

“Thank you for staying.” I’m staring at him under the faint moonlight that’s coming through the window. The shadow of his full lips curves upward as a grin stretches across his face charmingly. My chest flutters. His blue eyes flick to mine. 

“Thank you for inviting me. I didn’t think my first night spent with you would include my brother sleeping in your chair, but I guess it’s still pretty nice,” he teases with a wink. It takes all my strength to contain the bark of laughter that threatens to escape at his sudden boldness. A breathy chuckle leaves me instead, fanning over his freckled skin. 

“Are you saying you’ve thought about spending the night with me, Liam?” I fiend upset, pushing myself up with the hand on his chest so that my face is hovering over his. “I’m shocked.”

“Oh please.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, moving his hand along my head until it reaches the back of my neck and stays there. My eyes flick down to his strong arm flexed beneath me before I can stop myself, and his smile widens impossibly. “You know every guy in this wing has thought about spending a night here with you.”

“What?” I furrow my brows. “Are there other guys in this wing? Could’ve fooled me.”

His laugh rumbles through his chest and into my heart where it twists itself into nervous ropes.

Liam and I have had an undeniable chemistry for as long as I can remember, but I’ve always been too afraid to act on it. His friendship meant too much to me, and I didn’t want to risk pursuing something that might cost me that. Now though, with his hand on my neck and his bare skin on my sheets, I find myself willing to risk anything to have this. I pull my eyes away from his lips only to find him staring at mine. 

“The boys of Fourth Wing will be very sad to know that their fantasy girl doesn’t even know they exist.” He wets his lips with his tongue and meets my eyes with a mischievous smirk. “I don’t feel bad for them, though. As long as you know me that’s all that matters.”

The hand on the back of my neck draws me closer, slowly, giving me time to protest. Instead, I meet his eyes and nod once. The smirk that graces his lips is enough to send me into overdrive. Liam parts his lips beneath me and I pause, only centimeters away, inhaling his exhales. His large nose turns as he moves to close the distance between us. My eyes flutter shut.

A loud crash comes from across the room to interrupt our moment, and Liam wraps both of his arms around me immediately, pinning me to the curve of his neck and protecting my head with his free arm.

There’s a passing moment of silence before a pained groan follows, and then Liam is laughing loudly under me. He takes his hands off of me and throws his head back against the pillow in an uncontrollable fit of giggles. 

“Shut up,” Xaden moans into the darkness.

I swing my legs off of the mattress and hurry to the lightswitch, but trip and fall halfway there. Xaden and I both groan in unison, and Liam’s laughter only grows louder and more humored.

The loud sound came from Xaden crashing to the ground along with my now-broken chair.

A rough hand shoves my shoulder and I roll off of him, cursing under my breath. Landing on top of him was far more painful than I would have expected. I lay on the floor beside him and laugh shortly.

“Did you sleep well?” I ask over the chuckles in the background. Xaden grunts in response. “How did my chair break?”

“Stop asking me questions,” he grumbles. “I’ll get you a new chair for your birthday.”

I laugh again at that. 

He sits up on the floor and runs his hand through his messy hair. Liam manages to navigate his way to the lightswitch without tripping over one of us, and as soon as the bulb flicks on, all three of us are closing our eyes and mumbling our protests. 

“Neither of you are wearing enough clothes for me,” the older boy complains as he adjusts to the light, throwing the blanket I left on his sleeping shoulders at me. His attention turns to Liam, narrowing his eyes as he looks up at him. “What’re you still doing here anyway?”

“I wasn’t gonna leave her alone in here with you snoring like that. Someone had to cover her ears so that she could sleep,” he deflects, moving to sit on the edge of my bed. Xaden rolls his eyes so hard that I wonder if it hurts. 

“I don’t even remember falling asleep.” He rubs the back of his neck with his hand and yawns. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable. “Thanks for letting me sleep.”

“You’re always welcome to stay here. Once I get a new chair, I mean,” I tease him. 

[angstywaifu]

Fourth Wing Boys Head Cannons - Accidental/Unplanned Pregnancy

These are based around the battle at the end of Iron Flame. So if you have not read Iron Flame, the below will contain spoilers for some of our boys.

Masterlist | Support Me

Garrick

He would be as still as a statue. You aren’t even sure he’s even breathing as he looks down at you wide eyed. You were both on the tonic, but clearly there must have been a faulty batch. The healers were adamant. You were pregnant.

After a few moments he’d snap out of it, brow furrowing as he thinks everything over in his head. “Are you sure? Did you get-“ you cut him off with a nod, which is all he needs to shut his mouth and nod.

You could tell what he was thinking. This was no time to be having a child. Not in the midst of a rebellion. Not a rebellion you both had prominent parts in. Not when Xaden needed him.

After a few tense moments of Garrick being stoney faced and reserved, a small smile would start to pull at the corners of his mouth. Which honestly surprised you. Before you Garrick wasn’t really the relationship kind of guy. You even falling into that category a few times till another rider had showed interest after you were both sent to Samara.

“Really picked the perfect time to fall pregnant didn’t you?” He teases before to swat his arm, his usual booming laugh breaking through the tension that was now nowhere to be seen.

Despite the teasing joke you could tell he was nervous, worried and unsure. Especially as he pulls you against him, resting his head atop yours as it rests against his chest. His heart beating erratically underneath, a start contrast to calm demeanour he was trying to output.

Bodhi

He drops whatever he was holding, staring at you with shock as he goes utterly still. Wide eyed, mouth open as he just looks at you.

He goes to talk multiple times but keeps shutting his mouth, clearly unsure what to say. Eventually starting to pace back and forth till you grasp his hand.

His eyes snap to yours, some of the panic dissipating ever so slightly as he relaxes at your touch, the small circles you rub onto the back of his hand with your thumb grounding him.

His free hand comes up to run through his black wavy hair. “You’re sure? Like 100% sure?” He asks nervously.

You nod up at him, his eyes going wide again, but you note the corners of his mouth pulling up. You know the nervousness and panic comes from the rebellion. It’s not ideal timing. But now there’s not much you can do.

Panic flares again in Bodhi’s eyes, his hand tightening around yours. “Xaden’s going to kill me”

Xaden

it’s not often you see Xaden caught out or surprised. In fact you can’t remember ever seeing him like that. And yet here he is, staring at you, still as a statue. Not a single emotion or reaction detectable on his face. Almost like he was expecting the news.

“Fuck.” He finally says before walking over to you, his eyes glued on your stomach which currently shows no signs of the baby inside.

You can see him thinking over everything in his head. Every possibility and scenario playing out.

“You have to promise to not be reckless anymore. I can’t risk loosing you two. Ok?” His words coming out almost like a command, but there’s that slight hint of worry that softens his words. You know he just wants to protect you, and that you’ll definitely be tacking a back seat going forward.

Brennan

He pinches the bridge of his nose, pacing back and forth as he mutters to himself. It reminds you so much of Violet and how she recites facts to calm herself and focus.

Back and forth, back and forth, you’re sure he’s going to wear a track in the floor at this rate. You reach out and grab his hand to stop him.

His amber eyes instantly soften as he looks at you. “I was doing the thing, wasn’t I?” He asks as he purses his lips, knowing he slipped into planning mode. You nod at him and smile. “Yeah, you kinda did.”

He smiles down at you, and instantly you feel like everything is going to be ok. Is it good timing? Gods no. Especially with the Venin advancing on Navarre. And especially now they know Brennan is alive.

“We’ll make it work. We always do.” He tells you softly, reaching up and caressing your cheek.

Dain

This man is in denial. How could this happen? You were both on the tonic. And that tonic has never failed. Every logical situation runs through his head. There’s no way this could have happened. Unless….

“Did you stop taking the tonic?” He asks, tones almost accusing as he walks up to you, a hand raised towards your face. He lowers it wicking when he sees the anger on your face, answering his question immediately.

He would be spiraling. In a matter of weeks he’s gone from being the golden child, helping to get rid of the marked ones. And now here he was in Aretia, fighting against everything he’s always known, and now you’re pregnant.

He reaches out and takes your hands, grasping them in his as he lets out a shaky breath. “Really took disappointing my dad to a whole new level didn’t I?”

Sawyer

He would be shocked, looking at you like he doesn’t believe you. Like the words didn’t just leave your lips. But they did. You were pregnant with his child.

Despite the seriousness of the situation you were all in he would embrace you immediately.

“You’re not mad?” You ask him as he pulls away. “Gods no. Is it terrible timing? Probably, but we’ll make it work.”

Which feels like it won’t as you sit next to his bed, his leg now missing as you grip onto his hand like a lifeline. Everyone else had gone, leaving just you with him. None of them aware of what was looming over you.

He lightly squeezes your hand, your eyes snapping to his as he lazily smiles at you. You engulf him in a hug, completely forgetting about his injury. You start sobbing all the thoughts tumbling around your head. Sawyer just embraces you tighter, whispering you’ll make it work. It has to. Especially with the ring he wears on a chain around his neck. Waiting for the perfect moment.

Ridoc

He literally thinks you’re joking, trying to pull some prank on him like he does to literally everyone else. But once he sees the way you’re looking at him he goes silent. Ridoc who is never silent. And yet here you are taking the words right out of his mouth.

“Holy shit you’re not joking are you?” He finally asks you. When you shake your head at him he gets so excited.

It might not be the best time with everything going on, but he’s too excited to care right now.

He runs out the door to find Sawyer screaming “I’m going to be a dad!”

So much for keeping that quiet. The whole of Aretia knows with how louds he’s yelling and screaming.