#fourth wing imagines

[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

[theseinfernalangels]

Your Lips, My Lips, Apocalypse

(Or, the Empyrean Boys’ favorite places to kiss you).

Slightly suggestive in some sections!

Dain: Forehead kisses

Need. Dear Jesus, I need.

Dain is a tall guy. Not super tall, but tall enough that he can press a kiss to your hairline at any given moment, which he takes full advantage of.

I can totally envision him getting up super early (because best boy is always punctual) and pouting a little at the thought of leaving you behind in bed. So, as a little parting gift, he leans down and smooches your forehead gently and whispers, “Sorry, honey. I’ll see you soon,” before sneaking out.

It just makes him feel like he’s protecting you in a way, and in this death trap of a college, he’ll take whatever he can get.

Waking up? Smooch. Going to bed? Smooch? In passing? Eh. In greeting? Oh yeah. You can’t get this guy off of you — but, then again, you can’t really complain. Any time you’re in his room before he has to go on some mission for the revolution, he’s pulling you forward by your hips and kissing the top of your head.

Let him kiss! 🗣️

Bodhi: Shoulder kisses

I’m a firm believer that Bodhi always wants you in his lap. And if you’re not in his lap, then he’s in yours.

Sorry, I don’t make the rules; he’s a clingy boy and he likes holding/being held.

So, naturally, when he wants to kiss you while you’re talking, he’s very mindful and brushes his lips against your shoulders instead.

I KNOW he has soft-ass lips. You cannot convince me otherwise. He knows someone in the Healers Quadrant who’ll make him salves specifically to keep his lips soft.

When you’re cuddling, and he’s on top of you, his face goes in the crook of your neck and he just rests his mouth on your shoulder in some prolonged, permanent kiss. You have to shove his head off to get him to breathe, or else he’ll suffocate there willingly.

Gods help you on the days you wear anything sleeveless — he’s all over you, and then you have to go and cover your shoulders like a churchwoman because he decided to use his teeth.

Ridoc: Back kisses 

Oddly specific, but hear me out.

Ridoc likes being on top of you, in more ways than one.

He also, as we know, is very affectionate and ain’t afraid to smooch when he feels like it.

So what does he do when you’re laying on your stomach, trying to read for your history class? Why, he pulls your shirt up and kisses up your spine, of course!

I think a lot of riders have their relics on their backs (for convenience), so he pays extra attention to that and sometimes adds a lil bit of tongue.

But, yeah. He likes his lips on your relic and the small of your back, and you best believe he’s squeezing those hips while he does it.

Also, when you’re the little spoon while cuddling, he’ll pull the neck of your shirt away from your skin just to press languid kisses to the skin he’s closest to.

Aaric: Neck kisses

So, Aaric isn’t the most fond of physical contact. It’s not a you thing; his primary love languages are quality time and acts of service.

So he’s not all over you all the time like some of the other guys. But, when he’s in a mood, you best believe that he’s firmly attached to your neck.

Specifically, he likes having you sit in between his legs while he brushes his lips against the base of your neck, where your spine connects. It has this uncanny ability to calm him down that just doesn’t work with anything else.

Also, lest we not forget: The dastardly pulse point. He kisses it by accident the first time, but watching you get flustered and start squirming a little does something to him. Soon, he starts teasing you like that, and the only way you can fight back is doing the same to him…If you can reach his neck.

Tall boy, remember?

Sawyer: Hand kisses

Sawyer, best boy, sweetheart, cutie patootie

He starts out very shy. Affection doesn’t come very naturally to him, right, but he also knows that he wants to give you all of it.

So, when you flirt, he doesn’t grab at you, or try and kiss you on the lips. No — in a burst of confidence, Sawyer makes direct eye contact with you and kisses your knuckles like a prince.

From then on, hand kisses are the go-to: You go to playfully hit him? He catches your hand and kisses your palm. You’re studying and he’s bored? He grabs your hand and kisses your fingertips. You’re having a heated moment and he’s so fucking down bad that he needs to take a moment to appreciate all of you? He takes your arm and mouths against your wrist until you’re shivering.

Which then trails up your arms, to your shoulders, to your neck, and — Hey! When did he get to your lips?

Move, Jesinia. I want a turn.

Liam: Tummy kisses

AUGH. So, puppy boy, right?

He loves cuddles. Loves to Touch™️. Loves to come back to your place or his and cuddle after long days of grueling physics homework and sparring and just…snuggle. Usually, you have your head in his lap, or you’re leaning on him while he whittles.

On particular days, though, Liam likes to use you as his personal pillow. You’re just too soft, too warm, too agreeable to say no. If you’re on the bed first, he’ll just lower himself onto you. If he’s on first, he’ll hug you and do the much gentler version of an alligator death roll so that you’re against the bed.

Where is he, you ask? Baby boy’s got his head resting on your stomach, and his hands are tugging your shirt up just a bit so that he can press his lips against the exposed skin.

He’ll be gentle, obviously, but don’t forget he can be a cheeky little bastard sometimes. If you feel a bite or two on your hips or waist, no you didn’t.

Bonus: Liam also does this when you’re on your period, but he doesn’t lay entirely on top because he understands that you’re in pain (he is ultimate perfection). He just kind of hovers while ghosting sweet kisses on your hips and tummy and whispers, “I know, I know. I’m sorry, lovely.”

Brennan: Temple kisses

Brennan is always inevitably in a rush. Sorry, but the Lieutenant Colonel of the Aretian army has places to be, and he’ll be killed if he’s late for a meeting again after making out with you for too long.

So, what’s short and quick but conveys every ounce of affection he can muster? Temple kisses.

It’s totally not because they remind him of his parents. Totally not because that’s what Asher used to do for Lilith while she was stressing at her desk at night after dinner. Nope!

No, but seriously; it’s heartfelt and convenient, which is all poor Bren can ask for right now. 

If he comes back late and you’ve fallen asleep, he’ll just smile and lean down and ghost a kiss where he did earlier.

It’s a goodbye, it’s a greeting, it’s something sacred. How do you feel about it during the Battle of Aretia, when he’s bleeding to death but doesn’t want to worry you, so he stretches up the best he can to kiss that spot? Ouch.

Garrick: Thigh kisses 

No, not like that.

Well, yes, actually. Like that, but not all the time.

Garrick likes having a place to rest his head after a long day. A lot of the times, it ends up being your thighs. They’re just so soft and nice.

Fuck any pillow you throw at him. He throws it right back and bites your thigh in warning.

It’s just that playful side of him coming out, the one that barely gets to see the light of day because he’s always forced to be one of the serious ones. He shoulders so much at once, and he needs a break.

So uh, that’s how you find him half-passed out with his lips attached to the skin of your thigh.

There’s an obvious path I could go down for this one, but I’m not ready to write smut yet so I won’t.

I will say, though: During cool down time, he peppers your thighs with kisses while murmuring soft praise that you can barely hear, since he’s nuzzling his nose against your legs.

[dumbkiri]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 5

χα∂єη яισяѕση χ ƒ! мαιяι! яєα∂єя

ρℓσт: Violet just knocked out Liam and her sparring match up against Jack Barlowe should end the same. Meanwhile your match ended up with the heavy smell of iron and stolen memories. And Xaden unleashing a simmering anger.

PART FIVE

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“You want to do what?” Your laugh rang in Xaden’s ears like a haunted melody. Hands brushing the leaves and dirt from Lenin’s midnight scales. Your dragon shaking his wings from the rest of the dry leaves that stuck to him from the morning flight. 

After finding out what you signet can do…he felt a little confident in hidden activities. The coldness of your cloak he will have to get used to, like ocean waves washing up on the shore. 

The smirk on his face could not ease the blush on yours and he dismounted Sgaeyl with fluidity,  “We should have sex under your cloak with the eyes of the stars as our witness.” 

“You’re crazy, Xaden.” You shook your head and gave Lenin a pat, signaling that he was good to go. 

“Only for you.” Xaden sang with a teasing lilt.

…

“What if it works?” 

Violet’s question derived from her nervousness wakes you up from the memory at the end of your first year. The feeling of Xaden’s lips on your own hasn’t left you completely and you wanted to kiss him again. 

But you have to focus on today  because Violet is going to fight Jack Barlowe and you need her at her best. You looked at her then to your brother who grinned at the small woman. 

You asked Liam to spar against Violet, having her use your move on him. He seemed to be the perfect candidate for a partner and you knew she could do this. She practiced your kicks from early morning till her classes started every day. You saw great improvement in her movement and had no doubt she could do this. 

You figured with Liam’s look your brother is attracted to the silver woman. You couldn’t blame him, she is pretty and smart. Perhaps your feelings for her made you biased though. Your pride in her for catching onto your move made you grateful.

And you ignored the jealousy you had when she got close to Xaden. She could be a great friend if you allowed her to be one. The dream argument you had with Liam pushed you to accept her a little bit more, afraid to make that argument true. His hurtful words and your anger had to be avoided at all cost. If you have to befriend Violet Sorrengail to steer clear of the argument, then butter yourself up. 

Violet learned fast in one week, so you continued to train her and it worked in her favor. In yours. In the lives she was connected to. Xaden praised your teaching skills and jokingly said you should teach the rest of the Marked Ones your moves. But you were not up for that right now. 

Not after the dream. 

Your death terrified you. Just knowing that one night, flying one second on Lenin’s back then in the next falling from the sky- 

You cannot dwell on the dream…

“It has to work, Violet,” You told her, “because I want to see Jack Barlowe knocked unconscious. And you can do it. Now knock Liam on his ass, he needs it after destroying every challenger he gets. Deflate his big head for me.” 

“Oh, come on,” Liam laughed, “Just say you’re proud of your brother for once.” 

“I don’t think I will.” You crossed your arms over your chest giving the two a look that said ready up. Violet held one dagger in her dominant hand and quickly made the first move. That’s step one and she closed the distance between her and Liam very well. Next was the spinning kick that would make the defensive stance Liam take falter. 

“Shit!” Liam cursed, his leading foot taking one step back. He leaned away from her kick, yet the tip of Violet’s boot grazed his ear just like yours did with Bodhi. Violet is actually following in your exact steps. You didn’t think teaching her in a slowed down version of it to her would stick. 

Satisfaction. Joy. Pride. All these emotions entangled with one another watching your student become you, the teacher. 

“Lenin!” You followed Liam and Violet with a glare, hiding your happiness from your student, “Violet is mimicking me! She’s honestly kicking ass!” 

“She has improved, very nice work Dagger.” Lenin huffed, returning your delight through the bond. 

Then came the onslaught of punches. Violet, relentless in her attack, punched Liam left and right. She looked amazing right now and you were breathless because her form couldn’t have been more perfect. Liam grunted from the force and focused on the dagger Violet possessed. He knew at some point she had to use it. 

Yet you smirked, seeing his blue eyes attached to her weapon. He couldn’t have been farther from the truth. 

…

“You want me to attack with the dagger?” 

You nodded your head, spinning yours with a finger, “Yeah, you see this kick started with Garrick and we know how big that man is. So I never really bothered to use my daggers on him especially if he is just brute force. When I got on the mat, unarmed, observing people grew suspicious of my motive. It’s why Bodhi caught me off guard the day I tried to showcase the move to you. Which means we need to trick them. Tell me, what do we have in common, Violet?” 

“Speed,” She answered. 

“Correct,” You clutched your dagger and explained, “You have to be faster than these challengers. Your speed will be your greatest strength and your reaction time needs to be on par. Don’t think and keep moving. I don’t want you to stop.”

“Is the dagger supposed to be a distraction?” 

“Yeah, but that’s the thing,” You fisted your dagger grip and showed it off, “I want you to hold it like this. It’ll allow you to do the punches sequence, but your opponent will do their best to avoid the dagger’s edge. You can cut them up with it if they’re not careful and they have to pay attention to the weapon.”

“That means with the final uppercut blow, I can disrupt their block with a kick just like you taught me. Then land the knockout one while they’re stumbling back.” 

“Exactly,” You smirked, “No one is going to expect this from you, Violet. So give ‘em hell.”

…

And giving them hell is exactly what she’s doing. Liam raised his arms up to protect his head thus leaving his stomach open to the uppercut. Violet saw this as well and she released the dagger from her grasp. 

It dropped with a thump and Liam managed to barely catch it fall by her feet. Before he could move his arms down, Violet delivered the uppercut to his stomach. Both of them winced, yet she didn’t stop moving. She kicked her left leg then her right leg at Liam’s head and he barely blocked them. 

When he went to go for a full offensive block to make a move on her, Violet kicked her leg up breaking the wall he tried to put together. His hands flew up and you watched in awe at the final move. Violet spun on her left leg, swiping her right leg right at Liam’s face. 

The heel of her boot made contact with his jaw and your brother’s head snapped to the right. Spit flew from his mouth then Liam took one step back, blinking the black dots from his vision away. But he couldn’t get rid of them. 

Violet huffed and puffed, her chest falling and rising. 

You two watched Liam take another step back then he crashed to his knees. In another blink of an eye, he flopped in front of her, knocked out cold. 

“Yes!” You cheered and Violet looked at you with a surprised look. 

“I did it?” She asked incredulously.

“Of course you did!” You exclaimed then looked behind you addressing your cloaked friends. “Violet knocked Liam out!” 

You removed the cloak from Xaden, Bodhi, Garrick and Imogen witnessing their shocked expressions. Violet’s jaw dropped and she didn’t know she had an audience for this testing match. 

“I had faith, but damn,” Bodhi started looking over at the passed out Liam, “She looked exactly like you.” 

“I’m getting flashbacks,”  Garrick mumbled, “The PTSD is real.” 

You jumped up and punched the air in pure excitement. Then you focused back on Violet, pulling out your dagger from your hip. Walking over to her, you stopped in front of her holding the unique dagger out. 

“Violet freaking Sorrengail,” You watched her surprised look morph into pure joy, “congrats on kicking one of the best fighters in your year. You’ve earned this.” 

Violet jumped at you and threw her arms over your shoulders, thanking you a million times for teaching her these past weeks. Then she took your dagger carefully into her care, “I swear I will kick Jack Barlowe’s ass too.” 

“Oh I believe it,” You laughed. 

“Alright let’s get Liam out of here,” Xaden walked up then Bodhi and Garrick picked Liam’s unconscious body from the floor. Gods, the adrenaline from watching your first student achieve such a feat made you giddy. Like the old you was coming back. 

The you that fought challengers with a happy smile. You could go for a flight with Lenin to drive out this adrenaline. Although one look at the darkened sky made you weary. The sun had yet to show itself and you told yourself you wouldn’t fly until the bright ball came out to grace you with its light. 

You shouldn’t let fear hold you back, but you did. 

“Hey, that was some nice work,” Xaden popped into your line of sight with his arms crossed over his chest. 

You realized everyone had left the secret training area and smiled at Xaden, “Yeah, Violet made me really proud. I can see myself in her, she did everything right.”

Xaden gestured to the empty sheath at your hip, the one that concealed your dagger. 

“You gave your kunai to her too. That surprised me,” He tilted his head at an angle and asked, “I thought you’d never give it over to someone else. Your kunai means a lot to your family name.” 

You knew what he was getting at. And you shrugged your shoulders, “I have plenty more and Sloane can earn one when she proves herself. Violet certainly earned it. Just make sure she doesn’t poke her eye out trying to spin it.” 

“That’ll be Liam’s job to worry over her,” Xaden uncrossed his arms and nodded his head back to the direction of the college, “Has Aetos tried anything as of late?” 

“Not that I know of,” You responded, your hand itching to fiddle with something to keep yourself occupied. After earning the badge with Imogen, Pam and Dain, almost everyone knows about your improved signet ability. 

You two started walking over to the building and you said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to do something to get his hands on me. He might challenge me to get me to talk, but he knows it’s pointless. He won’t get past my shields.”

“We have the duo exercise today; the third year and second year one. It’ll be wise to stick together,” He suggested and this made you laugh. Here he is being protective, like a dark shadow looming over you. 

“I was thinking of choosing Garrick if I get the first pick.” 

A hand on your wrist tugged you backwards and you found yourself glued to Xaden’s chest. You looked up into dark, stormy eyes and he grew visibly tense under your touch, “Am I not the better choice?” 

His other hand wrapped around your waist to keep you in place and you laughed at him. He’s honestly jealous of his friend and you can see the shadows around you twist with his emotions. 

“You are, but I feel like you’d go crazy if someone injures me pretty badly. You’re like my boyfriend now, Xaden. And it’ll make me a target on the mat if we’re together.” 

Xaden completely disagreed, “Not like, I am your boyfriend and no one is going to touch you with me by your side. They wouldn’t dare.” Is it anger that drives him or the wanting in his eyes that makes him so damn fine. Because the way he was looking at you and the declaration he made had your stomach swarming with butterflies. Your chest is igniting with fire due to the passion. 

You two haven’t touched each other in so long. You wanted him so badly. 

“If you keep on staring at me like that, we won’t make it on time to get ready for the exercise.” His minty breath cooled your face and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

“We never did enjoy our time under the stars together,” You whispered. 

The slow chuckle that vibrated through his chest had you lean more into him. 

“And you called me crazy.” He leaned his head down, his forehead gently touching yours. 

“Crazy for you.” Finally, when his lips touched yours, your cloak washed over the both of you to continue your activities under the stars. 

……

“Did you hear?” A second year mumbled to another while you stretched your limbs for the duo exercise. Your ears went to work on eavesdropping because for some reason anyone who asks that question has good information, or gossip. 

“About what?” 

The second year responded instantly as if waiting to tell this tea, “Violet Sorrengail kicked Barlowe’s ass so hard, he came back for more and dislocated the leg that did it.” 

Shit. Violet lost the challenge against Jack Barlowe and you felt needles run over your body in waves. She should have knocked him out with that kick like she did Liam. What was different this time? 

“I wouldn’t worry.”

Xaden popped up in your line of sight making you jump slightly at his unexpected presence. 

“Did you come back from the menders? How is she?” 

Xaden smirked at you and raised a brow, “Wow, since when did you worry about Lilith Sorrengail’s daughter?” 

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest, “Ever since she became my student. What happened?” 

“Imogen watched the whole thing and said that Violet did knock out Barlowe. But he suddenly woke up and tackled her when she turned his back on him. Then he dislocated her leg and she poisoned him as a last resort. He’s allergic to oranges.”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance and shook your head. Violet shouldn’t have turned her back, she shouldn’t have poisoned Jack Barlowe if you did your job right. You failed her and you wanted to challenge Jack Barlowe yourself. You’d give him a beating worth crying over about. 

“All right, gather around second years and third years,” Emetterio walks up to the mats and glances at everyone with a tired expression. Yep, you can tell the first year matches wiped him out completely. 

“I’m going to call out two second years to the mat,” He cleared his throat and looked down at his list. His shoulders heaved with a heavy breath, like he dreaded this match in the first place. 

“Step up to the mat; [Name] Mairi.”

You weren’t expecting to be the first second year to be chosen. Nonetheless you mentally prepared yourself for your opponent as you walked up to the mat. You felt the soft plush beneath your boots and grounded yourself with ease. 

“I have a feeling that a certain memory reader swayed this choice,” Lenin hummed. 

“Aetos might just die on this mat,” You replied. 

“I’ll send Cath our regards.” 

Lenin’s cruel joke almost made you break your mask of indifference. Callous words make for a good laugh and Lenin is the best at making them. 

Emetterio then called out the most obvious choice of your opponent, “Step up to the mat; Dain Aetos and list one term for your opponent.” 

It’s not uncommon that the second choice gets to list out the first terms for the sparring match. Some would either accept or deny signet usage. Others would choose daggers or make a crazy choice like sticks as the only weapons to wield. 

You can only think that Dain would make the rule of no signet usage because you’d cloak the hell out of your partner and yourself giving your team the upperhand. 

Dain stepped up to the mat and declared his term with a smug look on his face. Gods, you wanted to make a dent in his head because he looked so stupid right now. 

“No Marked Ones can be selected as a partner.” 

“Bullshit,” You called and looked at Professor Emetterio for backup. He looked to be thinking about the term and he looked from Dain to you. The heavy sigh leaving the professor’s lips made your blood boil. 

“Term accepted.” 

The Marked Ones around you, your friends, protested with mumbles and grumbles. And you were left standing in a stump. Who would you choose now? You didn’t know anyone in the third year besides Xaden and Garrick. Now you couldn’t choose any of them!

Well two can play at that game. If Dain wanted a hater to be your partner, then so be it. You’d be damned if a snake was allowed to be your partner. 

“Mairi, make your term.”

As soon as the words left Professor Emetterio’s lips, you countered back, “Only Marked Ones can be selected as a partner.” 

“Fuck off, Mairi,”  Dain took a step closer to you, his hands clenched up in his annoyance. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You took a step forward too, “you don’t like the taste of your medicine?” 

Emetterio moved himself between you and Dain with mild disinterest, “Alright you two, I know what you are doing. Making your natural enemies your partners, so I’m going to deny both of the original terms. Aetos, name your partner.” 

Dain gave a name to Emetterio and some third year with fiery red hair and brown eyes stepped up. 

“Mairi, your partner?” 

“Xaden Riorson.” 

“Shall I send my regards now?” 

Too bothered to respond to Lenin, you waited for Dain’s stupid term and what do you know? He chose the first answer you had to it. 

“Signet allowed for one partner only.” 

“Term accepted. Let me guess, Mairi, you’re going to use the same term?” Emetterio responded with light sarcasm and you shook your head. Feeling Xaden’s shadows curl up your legs and you knew he wanted to be able to use his signet for this sparring match. 

Xaden walked up behind you and you can see Dain ignore him with unsettled ease. What a scared bitch. 

“No, I will not,” Your lips curled in a smirk, the sword on Dain’s back popping up, “Daggers are the only permitted weapon to use.” 

“Term accepted.” 

“Shadow wants Cath’s rider,” Lenin informed you. 

When Emetterio walked away from the mat, Dain and his partner discarded their swords to the side. Meanwhile the shadows on your legs moved up to your waist where your kunai was missing from the sheath. 

Xaden was silently telling you that you had no dagger at your hip. Yeah, it slipped your mind when you made that term. That’s fine. Your legs are strong enough to knock that small pee brain in Dain’s head. Like you said, you wanted to make a dent in it. 

“Tell Xaden, Aetos is mine. My shields will work just fine to counter his signet.” 

“You may start anytime now.” 

Xaden moved first with quick lethality, focusing his attention on the third year with a fire signet. Instantly Dain closed the distance between you and him with a dagger in his hand. If you can disarm him, you’d use that dagger for your gain. 

Dain isn’t known for his dagger skills and you rarely see him use them. For a guy his size, the sword was always his preferred weapon. While you dodged his haphazard swing, a swarm of flames made their way to you, only for a wall of shadows to protect you from the heat. 

Damn it, the third year was aiming at you too while keeping Xaden at bay. Is this their strategy? You knew that you were going to be a target, but not this much. You twisted around Dain and planted your foot on his back, shoving him to the floor which he recovered from in seconds. 

Another swarm of flames shot towards you and you ducked under the fireball, your stomach flattening against the plushy mat. Then Dain ran at you, ready to pin you to your position in confidence, but some shadows wrapped around his ankles and tugged him. 

Just like you, Dain flopped onto the mat, his face planting into it unexpectedly which earned some laughs from the sidelines. Yet their laughter faded in the background when a shiny glint of a dagger slid over to you. Dain had accidentally released his hold on the dagger. 

You scrambled over to it and swiped it up with a triumphant smile. The familiarity of a dagger in your hand felt amazing, and now you were protected. Dain flipped onto his back and tried to get the shadows locked around his ankles off of him, but his struggling grunts made it known he couldn’t. Then some of the shadows moved up to his arms, pinning him to the mat. 

“Tell Xaden I love him!”

This is the moment for him to yield and end the exercise. You straddled Dain’s waist, one hand grabbing his hair and the other pressing the dagger into his neck. 

“Yield, Aetos,” You demanded, “Or else Cath is going to find a new rider.” 

“I won’t.” He responded, not even wincing at the small wound you were beginning to make on his neck. A lone line of blood slowly running down his skin. Then you smelled something earthy, like a hit of iron smacked into your nostrils. 

One line of blood shouldn’t smell like this.

Then you felt the bond between you and Lenin evaporate like a drop of water on a hot pan. You glared at Dain suspiciously and the next line of your defenses went down, your shields were non-existent. 

The shadows on Dain’s body disappeared and you couldn’t afford to look at Xaden, but you shouted at your partner. 

“Xaden, my shields- mmph!” 

Dain slapped his hand over your mouth and reversed the positions. Lenin was gone, your shields were down. In fear, you tried cloaking yourself or moving the dagger which Dain disarmed on the mat to move, yet no power coursed through you. 

“Lenin!” You shouted in complete emptiness and you never felt completely alone. You always had your dragon in your mind, rarely ever closed him out. Yet this felt different. You didn’t do this, Lenin didn’t do this. 

Dain leaned closer to your face and moved his head to the side, whispering in your ear, “Now let’s see what you’ve been hiding. If you have done nothing wrong, I apologize. But you can cloak multiple people, who is to say you haven’t cloaked more than three Marked Ones?” 

You knew he was going through your memories, the invasion felt so disturbing. Fuck, think! Think of anything besides the meetings! 

“You’ve been training Violet?” Dain asked incredulously. You breathed heavily through your nose onto his hand still placed on your mouth. You closed your eyes and began to think of Violet Sorrengail, the nail in Dain Aetos’ coffin. You heard the crowd gasp then a huge weight lifted off your body, Dain’s hand leaving your mouth. 

You opened your eyes and sat up from the mat. Then you heard it. Angry fists meeting the flesh of a face. In your weary state, you watched Xaden beat the living shit out of Dain. The sides of the mat surrounding Dain’s face painted in dark red and you heard Xaden’s threatening voice. 

He raised his bloodied fist up and with his other bloodied hand grabbed Dain’s collar. 

“You touch her again and I will kill you just like your partner. Now yield.” 

You couldn’t remove your eyes from Dain’s bruising face, not even away from him spitting blood from his mouth. Struggling to speak, Dain finally mumbled out, “Y..yei…Yield. I yield.” 

You looked in the other direction and saw the lifeless form of the third year on the mat. Xaden did in fact kill Dain’s partner, but before you could think about what happened a defiant roar was heard outside the college. 

That roar belonged to Lenin. 

“Someone take Aetos to the menders, and Riorson…take Mairi to her dragon. He doesn’t sound too happy right now.” 

Without hesitation, Xaden pulled himself off of Dain and walked over to you with slightly burned leathers and bloody hands. He helped you up and didn’t speak to you until you two were out of earshot. 

“They both had something dangerous up their sleeves. I knew something was off, yet I didn’t think it would turn out like this,” He admitted, his hand still holding onto yours with a desperate need. The golden flecks in his eyes lit up in quiet anger. 

“Xaden, the bond with Lenin,” You whispered, clutching his hand tighter, “I can’t feel him. Did they…did they…” 

Your panic of losing the bond between you and Lenin indefinitely scared you. 

“I don’t know,” He picked up his pace and dragged you outside with him. The roaring from Lenin echoed throughout the skies. You couldn’t feel what your dragon was feeling, but this roar sounded familiar. 

When you caught the sight of a blue dragon and her midnight blue son, that’s when you felt relief course through your body. Xaden released your hand and you ran over to your expecting beast. 

“Lenin!” You practically jumped onto his lowered snout as he sniffed your body. The warmth from his breath erased any sort of fear you experienced on the mat. His throat rumbled with what seemed like a question and you removed yourself to look into his eyes, “I think I was poisoned with something. While I had Dain in the surrender position, I smelled this heavy scent of iron.” 

“I did as well, then the bond disappeared,” Xaden finished for you, his bloody hands tucked into his arms as he crossed them over his chest. “I couldn’t wield my shadows. My shields were down. When I heard you call out to me, I reacted with protective instinct. I killed Jeremiah and I watched you close your eyes, trying your damned hardest to conjure up your shields. Whatever they did, whatever he saw, it isn’t our fault. They tricked us.” 

“The question is did Professor Emetterio know? Whatever they used to poison us, to dim the bond between our dragons, did our professor let this happen?” 

“No,” Xaden shook his head and defended Emetterio, “He wouldn’t do that. This had to be Aetos and his father.”

“Well at least I can apologize to Violet now,” You chuckled, running your hand up and down Lenin’s scales. 

“Why is that?” Xaden questioned. 

“Because she won’t feel as bad if we both got our asses handed on the same day, our loss will make us closer as teacher and student,” You watched Lenin move his body down, taking the position of laying down and you knew he wanted to wait with you until your bond came back. 

Sgaeyl leaned her head down and sniffed the top of Lenin’s head. The mother provides comfort to her brooding son. This made you smile and you walked over to Lenin’s side, sitting down next to his long neck. Then you leaned up on it letting out a drained sigh. 

“Well might as well take a break with our dragons, I can use a nap.” 

“You can, but I need to wash myself,” Xaden smirked and made his way over to you. Lenin groaned in mild discomfort, yet stayed put knowing that you would scold him if he tried to push Xaden away. 

“Just don’t sleep out here all day, the sun will burn you up.”

In response to Xaden’s words, Lenin lifted his wing and draped it over the both of you. Covering you in a cool and saded darkness, just like his shadows. If he had the power to use them.

“Nevermind,” Xaden rolled his eyes playfully, then leaned down to kiss your lips. “Don’t blame yourself, alright?”

“I won’t,” You whispered and kissed him with tiredness. He pulled away with a gentle smile then placed a soft kiss on your forehead before leaving the comfort of Lenin’s wing. You watched him walk away giving Sgaeyl a goodbye with muddle words. The blue female dragon pressing her own snout on his chest pushing him to go. 

You had two dragons protecting you out here. Xaden had no right to worry about you with these two by your side. “Sleep well, Lenin,” You curled into his neck and the rumbling in his throat lulled you to sleep.

..............................

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬:

@luvly-writer @desprrssooo-espresssooooo @blueeclipsepaperstudent @honethatty12 @poeticbookwormcat @cheappremingerfromdelululand @eep500 @littlepippilongstocking @86laura11 @lxnvmvrzx @what-will-be-your-verse @sheblogs @fangirling-galore @callsigns-haze @side-angel @faeofthemoonandstars @jesschalamet @abysshaven @bisexualbitchsgotass @books-hlmc @r0sluvs @galaxystern08 @bwormie

[pvrkacciosan]

Secrets and Sex

Summary: After your training session with Bodhi had gotten rather... Heated and progression was inevitable. The desire for one another didn't stop there, but keeping it hidden from your friends may have been more pointless than you realized.

Pairing: Bodhi Duran x Marked Fem! Reader

Word count:

Warnings: 18+ , !NSFW!, explicit smut scenes, swearing, submissive Bodhi It was an accident I apologise for nothing

A.N: I Definitely got carried away with this...

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (Final Part)

☽⋆❈⋆☾

It has been a little over a week since your initial training session with Bodhi and since then, the tether of tension between you both only seemed to tighten. Ensnaring and constricting until it left you both panting and pining after one another, on more then one occasion.

Today was no different, Bodhi has sought you out this morning, as everyone has been on the move for breakfast, capturing you in the hallway and pulling you away to slip into the shadows.

His mouth has been on your own before you could even voice a single word. Not that you had minded in the time. It had been reckless, in the sense anyone in the College could have walked upon you two, the thrill of being caught giving you a shot of adrenaline.

Especially if your friends found out, you weren't sure why you had hidden this... Thing with Bodhi, you'd known him for years and it wasn't exactly like Violet and Xaden had hidden their affections for one another.

But they were more? Where they not, you were just sleeping with Bodhi, Right? No string attached. He was attractive, you were beyond the point of denying that fact, but there wasn't anything else to it.

The first time you'd gotten together, it had been a heated training session and tension was running high on both ends. And even after he had been inside you, tongue and cock, after all that when you left to go back to your own bed that night you had merely concluded it had been a heat of the moment act.

But what about every time after that?

The thoughts were dizzying, and you could almost be mad at him for getting you this bothered after your morning make our session. Unable to think beyond his touch, the way he could make your body give everything it had to offer and in turn, you could make him crawl. Nervousness had wracked you the first time you took control, but Bodhi had seemed more keen and interested the more you denied him. Keeping him pining until you decided what he could have and when he could have it.

You would never guess your best friend would be for giving into the submission of letting you lead him through his pleasures. It didn't happen every time you guys slept together, but when it did. Let's just say it always worked into your favour when he turned his attention to you.

Breathing deeply you slouched into your seat on Asra's back, the warmth of her reptilian body radiating beneath you.

You humans and your fickle feelings.

Asra's voice in your head was subtle this time, drifting in through the swarm of thought clouding your mind.

"They are called emotions." You grated out aloud, no need to communicate through your thoughts when you knew she could hear you perfectly well up here. In the skies above the War College, away from the bustle of noise below.

It had become your safe haven, in the clouds the cold air nipping your exposed skin, a deliberate act on your part, to leave parts exposed to feel the winds bite.

You can be easily broken by them. They are fickle.

Taking a second to extend a thought to her words, the thunder of your own pulse in your ears drowning out the sound of the wind ripping your hair from the braid that whipped at your spine.

If you are to love him so be it. Love hard, or hate. Simple. You are a dragon rider, you have no time for fickle feelings which take up your time.

You did not require any further poking from her, you knew she spoke of Bodhi. But did you love him?

Yes, You were insanely attracted to him and when he fucked you, Seven hells it was the best you ever had, but...was that love?

You had been friends since you were young and had spent many years stuck in that station of friendship and after that training session nothing has changed between you, other than the nights you spent many nights exploring one another in the most intimate of ways.

With every pounding thought you always rounded back to the same insistently annoying question which left your stomach hollowing out inside you, Were you in Love with Bodhi Durran?

You're doing it again. Your dragons tone was flat in your head, void of all irritation or feeling

Steeling your thoughts you said nothing more in the topic, voiding all notions of Bodhi from your mind as Asra began circling the college flight field. Decending downwards in a dive that has you squeezing your thighs against her and tucking yourself behind her neck to avoid being ripped away by the wind.

When you both finally lowered beneath the cover of the clouds, your eyes began scanning the grounds below. Your attention instantly attracted to where a familiar Green dragon perched. Watching you descend, her rider relaxed between her front legs.

Gripping to your senses you braced for the impact of Asra connecting the ground. Waiting until the dust cloud to blow away before sliding over her shoulder and down her leg.

Turning, you began inspecting Asra's chest. Searching the areas she couldn't to make sure there wasn't any cuts or wounds that might have occured during the flight manvours before you both flew off in a private flight session.

Despite being a mutual routine you did after each flight, you were fumbling trying to ignore the attention you felt watching your back.

The only warning you got for his approach was a low snarl from Asra which rumbled above your head.

Gentle moving hands slide around your waist. The contrast in heat radiating from his hand shot shivers down your spine.

Bodhi's hands rested at your hip when you straightened. Fingers curling under the rim of your flight jacket.

Asra, is there anyone else in the field?

You waited as she surveys the open expanse of land.

No one beyond those Cuir has scared off.

Good.

Turning in his arms, You take all but one second, one for a breath before you stepped up, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck. You couldn't give a damn if you were just here for the sex. You needed it, a deathly desire.

Bodhi didn't interject when you planted your lips to his own, hands pulling your body closer to his still. Molding your torsos, you could feel every inhale he struggled to take, forced to pick between you and breathing. A warmth spread to your core when he held his breath.

Bodhi slanted his head, inclining it down to slip his tongue into your mouth, warm sliding along your bottom lip, gravity pushed you back and when you bumped into something warm you stumbled, Bodhi's hand keeping you from crumbling.

Asra grumbled softly, Bodhi jerked his head back, and you could see in his eyes clear as day the alarm in them when he glanced up to Asra. The angle awkward from where Bodhi had you pressed against her foreleg.

You laughed softly pushing to hide your face in his chest.

"Perhaps. We should take this elsewhere." Bodhi whispered softly next to the shell of your ear, eyes unblinking away from your dragons piercing gaze.

Wise choice boy.

You tried to stifle another laugh as Asra continued glaring.

Lips tingling for more as Bodhi clasped your hand and began leading you both from the flight field. Keeping pace, you avoided the sound of other students, to evade their attention.

He led you faster, assuming you would be going to his room you felt the tension rise in your arm when he suddenly pulled you into another direction.

Twisting to keep up, You hugged closer to his arm. "Where are we going?"

Bodhi didn't speak, but led you on further and you caught the peak of a boyish grin gleaming over his shoulder, rounding the corner of the main entrance to the college he walked backwards pushing open a door tucked into the wall.

The room was dark, beyond a small line of light creeping through the cracks of the door, a door which had become so warped it didn't meet all the edges of the frame.

There was shelves, but you didn't give yourself time to inspect the contents. Perhaps a store cupboard.

His hands grasped your neck, thumb working small circles into your jaw, as he walked backwards still. He pulled you closer by your neck.

You allowed yourself to be lead and spun until your back met a solid wall. It was cold against your spine, goosebumps racking.

You felt the hot pant of his breath against your cheek before his lips met yours in the darkness. Needy and fast, You worked a hand up and around the ball of his shoulder, arm resting there so you could thread a hand into the hair at the back of his neck.

His shoulders trembles under your touch, giving into the sensation as you pulled and bit into his lip. Bodhi's head titled back away from your mouth as you tugged his hair. His breathing is heavy and uneven, but even in the dim lighting you can spy the look of desire in his eyes, eyes which darted to blink at every inch of your face.

"Want me to stop love?" The light across his face shifts, his brow was raised. But that word made your heart stutter against your ribs. Love.

"I want you," You hover your lips above his, could almost taste yourself on him, you would have ended the sentence there but instead. "-I want you to do as I say."

Watching his face for a reaction, Bodhi hummed low the sound soft, the edge of his lip curved up. "Then I am at your mercy Darling."

His attempt to kiss you was halted when you tightened the fistful of hair in your grip, Bodhi hissed but his eyes rolled at the sensation.

"Did I say you could kiss me?" Tilting your head to watch him under hooded lashes.

Your pulse was thrumming loud in your inner ear, but through the pleasant roar you could have swore you heard Bodhi whimper. Fucking whimper. Something inside you tightened, tension rising as you slowly loosened your grip and used that hand to push his shoulder, coaxing him to kneel before you.

He did so willingly, eyes ravaging every inch of your body on the way down,

Once he was on his knees, you stepped back, flush against the wall. Hand shifting to unbutton the top of you flight leathers, slowly teasing the clothes from you body, the cold air against your warm skin emitted a small gasp from you.

Stripping, until you stood naked for him. Bodhi's eyes darted frantically unable to take everything in at once, you watched them flicked from your breasts down the valley between them, he stilled at the sight of you completely bare before him.

Extending a hand, you waited until he placed his in yours, His breath was swallow and you watched his expression as he zones in on your face, unblinking as you led his hand between your legs.

"Say the words" Bodhi sounded almost breathless, hand inches from grasping you where you needed him most, You could feel the warmth of those fingers hovering below the wetness between your legs.

With the anticipation you struggle with the words, thoughts fuzzy at the sight of him kneeling for you, waiting so desperately for you to let him touch you.

"Touch me." Even the sound of your own voice sounded foreign, undiluted with the desire that was threatening to make your knees buckle.

Damn him. Bodhi smiles, cocking his head sideways, "Need more description then that Love." His words were coupled with the featherlight touch of his thumb against your clit.

You gasped, nerves pulse painfully, aching for touch. Bodhi kept smirking, but did not touch you again.

"I want your fingers inside me. As many as you can manage. I want to come over them-" he brushed a finger along the folds of your entrance, a pause to catch your breath, "Then I want more."

"Tongue or cock?" his voice was raspy, and low.

You broke through the stupor to nod, "Both. Definitely both."

He paused for a long second, stilling.

"Bodhi-"

The first finger entered you without warning, warmth bloomed and pumping through you. He began slow, driving the singular finger in and out, the pace not changing until he added that second finger. Thumb joining the pair already in use as he stretched you, His thumb encircled the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Throwing your head back you could only ignore the pain, when your skull smacked into the wall, back arching slightly as he kept the pace. Your heart was hammering harder as you breathing came out faster, moans of pleasure which seemed to encourage Bodhi on further.

The pleasure was building, he curled one of those fingers inside you, you cried out free hand gripping new fistful of his hair. You felt your release drawing closer still,

Words were a struggle so when Bodhi hit this sweet spot, you shook to stay standing, and without vocal command Bodhi somehow knew to keep going. A blessing you were grateful for, release was barreling into you with the next thrust of his fingers, your nail digging into his shoulder to stay standing

Opening your eyes, you were staring at the dark ceiling, the air fighting its way in and out from your lungs. You had to blink back the dark edges of your vision in order to glance down at Bodhi.

"Please" He begged softly, your mind was so fuzzy you could only stare blankly down at him until he gives a pointed look between your legs.

Nodding, unable to get the words to leave your lips, finger still twisted in his hair, your grip loosened when you feel his tongue on the inside of your thigh.

Lapping up the evidence of your release, the anticipation of him making it to the apex of your leg made your heart hammer once more, His tongue ran along your folds when you were interrupted.

Incoming.

Asra's voice in your head ruptured through the atmosphere. You shifted and moved a hand to Bodhi's shoulder, he glances your way concern lacing his expression.

"What's wrong?" His expression stills. Cuir no doubt delaying information to him, someone was coming this way.

It was only a second later you could hear the footsteps approaching. You separated, Bodhi rising to pass you something to cover yourself with. Holding it against your chest you froze.

"Who is that?" You whispered, Bodhi glanced at the door, perhaps waiting for it to open, In this moment you could finally take a second to look around the store room.

The room was filled with spare riding equipment, replacements for saddles. Spare sizes of riding leathers. Shit. After Flight manoeuvrers anyone could need to come in here and you were completely naked and still hazy from your release.

Swaying on legs that still felt to shaky to hold your weight. Bodhi steadied you with a hand, his other free one coming up to cover your mouth. Wide eyed and trying to slow your breathing and heart beat,

When the door begun to open, Bodhi spun away and thumped his foot against it.

"Fuck." The door stopped, Bodhi rounded it, pushing through the gap of its opening to keep you from sight.

There was a shuffle as the person moved backwards, allowing the spacw for Bodhi to stand in the way of the door.

"Xaden, Anything I can help you with?"

You knew Bodhi said his name loud enough for you to hear through the door, as quietly as you could you knelt to reach for your clothes sprawled on the floor around your feet.

"I'm just looking for some new sizes of flight leather, Violence tore a hole in hers flying yesterday."

You stilled waiting for the door to open, or Bodhi to speak up, which ever came first.

"There isn't any there that would fit Sorrengail." You froze at Bodhi's words, the silence from Xaden causing you to silently drag your flight jacket over your shoulders,

Bodhi stuttered over his words, "I was eh.. looking for some for Y/n, There is a limited supply. Was just on my way to put in an order for some more."

Whether Riorson was going to buy it... You bit into your lip awaiting in the darkness.

Xaden grumbled something which was muffled through the door, Bodhi laughed and you were finally able to breath when their voices and footsteps began to retreat from the store cupboard.

You grabbed for your boots, ramming your feet into them and tucking the edges of the trousers around the rim. Tying them up quickly you ran a hand through you hair before moving for the door.

With a quick check to make sure the coast was clear you slipped out and made your way back inside towards the courtyard.

Satsified?

I know you can hear my every thought without the shield, so I'm going to spare us both our sanity by not answering that. Had you remembered to put your shield up whilst Bodhi...

At the memory of his fingers inside you deep and warm, your breath hitched and as you body warmed, an itch that hadn't been scratched. The session in the store room had been a warm up for more... Because Bodhi would have given more.

There was no doubt what your night activities would include, by your hand or his own should he seek you out.

Approaching the corner that would round into the food hall, you picked at the skin on your finger, What if he didn't come looking for you? What if-

You collided with a body when you walked around the corner, Hand landed against your torso to steady you, Grabbing to the persons forearm.

Glancing up, you still as Cassandra roughly shook your grip off her, as though the hint of your touch was toxic. The sneer was already set in her expression and disgust lined her stare.

- ❈ -

Bodhi was sat beside Xaden and Garrick, Keeping to the numbers pushed onto them by the rules. Three and no more marked ones to be found together at any one time. To keep them from building some sort of rebellion, shame is was far to late for that.

Bodhi tried to ignore the ache in his dick, he had so been waiting to be inside you since he had pulled you aside this morning, the memory of his hands of your, he had to clench his fists to keep from getting himself too worked up.

"The fuck got you in such a mood?" Garrick kept his voice low as a group from first wing strolled past their table.

Xaden beside him laughed as he lifted a cup to his lips, "Blue balls" He muttered it, but both Bodhi and Garrick heard him clear as day.

The older boy laughed but Bodhi simply scowled at his cousin, Xaden tried to ignore it by prolonging his drink.

"Just ask her out already." Garrick tapped the table, drumming the surface with his fingers. Bodhi was gritting his teeth so hard, he thought they might actually shatter and then he might even break something in his jaw.

When he looked to Xaden, Bodhi froze, Xaden was giving him a pointed look.

The bastard knew.

[soulofapatrick]

Giving Into Temptations - Xaden Riorson x Female Reader

Summary: Part two of��Don't Tempt Me

Warnings: Smut; P in v; cockwarming

Words: 4.6K 

Notes: I just had to make part two and it's not proofread and written after a break so sorry for any mistakes/repetition

Y/N's POV

The sound of rushing water stops, leaving only the quiet crackle of tension in the air. I hear Xaden moving in the bathroom—quick, efficient movements, the sound of his hands adjusting the faucet, testing the water. For a few long moments, I sit there, feeling the heat of my own words still lingering between us, replaying the way his body tensed, the way his breath caught when I suggested he join me. I don’t regret saying it. Not even a little. But now, with the silence stretching between us, I wonder what’s running through his mind.

Footsteps approach, heavy and deliberate, and then Xaden steps back into the room. His expression is unreadable, his golden-flecked eyes shadowed with something I can’t quite name. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches me from where he stands, as if deciding whether or not to speak. Then, with a sigh that sounds like he’s battling himself, he moves toward me, reaching out.

"Come on," he says, his voice lower than usual, raspier. "Water’s ready."

He extends his hand, waiting for me to take it. I hesitate—not because I don’t want to, but because something about this moment feels different. He’s always been imposing, always carried himself with that unwavering confidence, but right now, there's something softer in the way he looks at me. Something unguarded.

I slide my hand into his, and his fingers curl around mine, firm and warm. The contrast between his calloused palm and my own sends a shiver up my spine. He doesn't say anything about it—just helps me up, steadying me as my sore muscles protest. The ache in my body is undeniable, and I probably should have been listening to Vireth when he told me to stop, but the damage is done now.

Xaden doesn’t let go as he guides me toward the bathroom, his other hand finding my waist like he’s afraid I’ll collapse again. Maybe I will. Every step reminds me how exhausted I am, how much I’ve pushed myself beyond my limits.

The warmth from the bath curls into the air as we step inside, steam clinging to my skin. It smells faintly of the lavender oil he must have added to the water—something soothing, something that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I don’t always have to fight so hard to prove I belong here.

I turn to look at him, expecting him to let go now that we’re here, but he doesn’t. Instead, his hands stay on me, lingering at my waist, fingers pressing slightly into the bare skin between my sports bra and the waistband of my underwear. His gaze drops to the bruises lining my ribs, his jaw tightening.

“You push yourself too damn hard,” he mutters, almost to himself, his voice a quiet accusation. His thumb ghosts over one of the deeper bruises, and I feel his restraint in the way he touches me—gentle, but simmering with frustration.

I don’t answer. What is there to say? He’s right, and we both know it. But I don’t regret it. I can’t afford to.

Xaden exhales sharply, shaking his head before finally—reluctantly—stepping back.

“Get in before the water gets cold,” he says, his tone gruff, but there’s an underlying softness there, something he doesn’t want me to hear.

I don’t move. Not yet. Instead, I tilt my head, watching him carefully. He meets my gaze, and for a moment, I swear I see the battle in his eyes—the war between every instinct telling him to leave, to put space between us, and the deep, undeniable pull that keeps him here, rooted to the spot.

My fingers find the hem of my sports bra, and I peel the damp fabric up over my ribs, my muscles protesting the movement. I know he’s still watching me—can feel the weight of his gaze like a brand against my skin—but I refuse to meet it. Instead, I focus on my breathing, slow and steady, as I pull the bra over my head and let it slip from my fingers onto the floor. The air against my bare skin is cool in contrast to the steam curling through the room, sending a ripple of heat down my spine that has nothing to do with the bath.

I take my time sliding my underwear down my legs, my fingers brushing against the bruises lining my hips, a reminder of how hard I pushed today. Of how hard I always push. I step out of them, standing completely bare under the dim bathroom light, knowing his gaze is still locked on me, burning.

Even without looking, I can picture the way his jaw must be clenched, how his fingers might be curled into fists at his sides as he fights every instinct screaming at him to move. To touch. To close the space between us.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a glance. Instead, I turn, stepping carefully into the bath, the heat of the water licking up my calves, then my thighs, until I sink beneath its welcoming warmth with a quiet sigh. The tension in my muscles loosens almost immediately, and I let my head rest against the cool porcelain edge, closing my eyes for a brief moment.

I should feel self-conscious. Exposed. But I don’t. Not really. Not when his silence is thick with something else entirely—something raw, barely restrained, and entirely too tempting.

And still, I don’t look at him.

The silence stretches between us, thick with something unspoken, something charged. My body hums with awareness, my skin prickling under the heat of both the bath and his relentless gaze. I keep my eyes closed for a beat longer than necessary, as if that will somehow lessen the intensity of the moment. It doesn’t. It only makes the tension coil tighter, thick and suffocating.

Then, finally, he speaks.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

His voice is low, breathy, like the words have been torn from him against his will, and the sheer frustration laced in them is enough to make my eyes snap open.

I turn my head slowly, and—gods help me—he looks wrecked.

Xaden stands rigid, his broad shoulders stiff, every muscle wound so tight it’s a miracle he hasn’t shattered under the strain. His fists are clenched at his sides, veins pressing against the golden-toned skin of his forearms like he’s holding himself back with every ounce of control he possesses. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, and his lips—his lips—are slightly parted, like he’s just realised how parched he is and that I’m the only thing that could possibly quench him.

But it’s his eyes that do me in.

Those gold-flecked onyx irises burn, searing a path over every inch of exposed skin, dark and predatory, his pupils blown wide with something dangerously close to hunger.

And then, as my gaze drops lower, I see just how much I’ve affected him.

The evidence is straining against his jeans, a prominent, undeniably enticing outline pressing against the dark fabric. My mouth goes dry. Heat pools low in my stomach, winding tightly through my limbs, and suddenly, the bath feels entirely too small, the room too hot, the air too thick to breathe.

I should say something. Should break the moment, laugh it off, defuse the impossible tension crackling between us before it ignites into something I know we won’t be able to stop.

But I don’t.

Instead, I drag my gaze back up to his, meeting his with deliberate slowness, letting him see every thought running rampant through my mind.

I raise a single brow, the ghost of a smirk playing at my lips, and that’s all it takes.

Something snaps.

Xaden curses under his breath, something low and guttural, and then he’s moving. Fast.

His hands fly to the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head in one fluid motion. The fabric barely clears his arms before he’s tossing it to the side, forgotten. My breath catches at the sight of him—of the solid planes of muscle, the ink that stretches across his arms and chest, the way his skin is already flushed like he’s been fighting this battle for far too long.

His fingers go to the buttons of his jeans, fumbling in his haste, jaw clenching as he struggles with the damn things like they’re his mortal enemy.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling in my throat as he growls in frustration, finally forcing them open. But when he shoves the denim down his hips, he nearly trips over his own damn feet, his balance thrown as he kicks his shoes off at the same time.

A very undignified thud echoes through the bathroom as one shoe hits the wall.

And then—fuck.

Xaden looks up at me, half-dressed, breathless, and so fucking wrecked, and the sheer heat in his gaze burns through whatever amusement I had, replacing it with something molten.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, tension still coiling through his muscles, but there’s something else in his expression now. Something that makes my own breath stutter.

Like he’s already mine. Like he’s made peace with the fact that he’s about to break every rule he’s set for himself.

Xaden is back on his feet in seconds, the last shreds of his restraint gone. He practically rips his boxers down those thick, muscular thighs, the motion so desperate, so reckless, that the waistband almost gives out under the force.

And then—gods help me—my gaze drops.

My breath catches. My pulse stumbles.

I don’t mean to look. I don’t. But gravity itself seems to drag my gaze downward, past the hard ridges of his stomach, the sharp lines of his hip bones, to—

Oh.

Oh.

A sharp inhale gets caught in my throat, my fingers clutching the porcelain edge of the bath like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. A slow, involuntary heat creeps up my neck, settling deep in my stomach as I try���try—to force my gaze back up. But it’s impossible.

Because fuck.

He’s big. Thick, heavy, fully erect, standing proud against his stomach. And the worst part? The moment my eyes betray me, lingering too long, a sound escapes me—a tiny, almost imperceptible hitch of breath. But it’s enough.

Xaden hears it.

I feel the shift in the air before I even meet his gaze again.

When I do, it’s devastating.

His eyes are burning, dark as molten gold, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling with a barely restrained tension that vibrates through every inch of his body. His lips part like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching me watch him, taking in every single reaction, every single thing I’m failing to hide.

And then—fuck him—his mouth curves. Just slightly. Just enough to make my pulse stumble.

He knows.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Exactly how wrecked I am.

And from that slow, wicked smirk pulling at his lips?

He’s savouring every fucking second of it.

Xaden steps forward, closing the small, agonising distance between us, and fuck. It’s right there.

My breath shudders as the heat of him seeps into the steam-heavy air, his presence overwhelming in a way that makes my pulse trip over itself. He’s so close now, towering over me, muscles taut with restraint, water-darkened strands of black hair falling across his forehead. But it’s not his face I’m struggling to focus on.

No.

It’s him. Right there. In front of my face.

And gods help me, I want to do something.

My fingers twitch against the porcelain edge of the bath, an ache settling deep in my core that has nothing to do with my exhaustion and everything to do with the way every primal, desperate part of me is screaming to reach out—to wrap my hands around him, my mouth—fuck—I don’t even care how.

As if sensing the exact second I start to spiral, Xaden exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers pressing against my shoulder. “Don’t,” he warns, voice low, tight, wrecked.

I drag my eyes up, catching the way his jaw flexes, how the veins in his forearms strain like he’s barely holding himself together.

And then, just to make absolutely sure I understand, his hand finds the curve of my neck, thumb grazing the hinge of my jaw as he leans in close enough that his breath is a ghost against my lips.

“Be a good girl and behave,” he murmurs.

Fucking bastard.

A slow, deliberate heat spreads from where his hand lingers, all the way down my spine, settling low in my stomach. My breath is shaky, uneven, but I force myself to hold his gaze, to not react—to not give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much those words affect me.

I fail. Miserably.

His smirk deepens, smug and knowing, before he nudges me forward in the water, shifting me just enough to slide in behind me.

The moment he sinks into the bath, a low groan escapes him, the sound vibrating through the space between us, sinking into my skin. Strong, calloused hands find my waist under the water, guiding me back until my spine meets the solid wall of his chest and my ass meets something very different. 

And fuck.

The heat of him, the sheer size of him, makes my entire body lock up. Every muscle goes rigid as I try to convince myself this is fine, that I can handle this without combusting on the spot.

But then his lips brush my ear.

“Relax.” His voice is pure sin, rough with restraint. “I’ve got you.”

I don’t think relaxing is an option anymore.

Not when I can feel him, hot and hard against me, pressed so intimately that my breath catches in my throat. Not when his hands, large and calloused, find my waist beneath the water, his thumbs brushing slow, burning circles into my skin.

A shiver ripples through me, and I know he feels it because his grip tightens, fingers flexing like he’s fighting every instinct to pull me closer.

“Xaden—” My voice is barely a whisper, but before I can even process what I’m trying to say, his hands begin to move.

Slow. Deliberate.

He traces the curve of my sides, trailing the bruises with a careful touch, his palms mapping every ridge, every muscle, like he’s memorising me.

Like he wants to.

And it should be soothing—it would be soothing—if it weren’t for the fact that every shift of his hands sends a fresh wave of awareness through me, heat pooling low in my stomach, turning my bones to liquid.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath uneven. “This isn’t fair,” I manage, trying to ignore the way my entire body reacts to his touch.

Xaden hums, the sound deep, amused, dangerous. His breath is warm against the side of my neck as he leans in, his lips barely ghosting over my skin.

“Life’s not fair, violence,” he murmurs, his voice like smoke and embers, like temptation itself. His fingers tighten at my waist, pressing me just a fraction more against him, until there’s no mistaking exactly what I’m doing to him.

A quiet, wrecked sound escapes me before I can swallow it down.

And gods.

I don’t think I want to relax anymore.

Xaden’s hands remain steady on my waist, but there’s a subtle shift in his touch. His fingers begin to move, a slow, deliberate exploration of the skin beneath his hands. The warmth of his touch sends ripples of heat over me, and it’s as though I can feel every inch of his fingers against me, the way they trail over my skin, brushing lightly against my ribs before descending lower.

His touch is careful at first, like he’s testing, sensing the boundaries I haven’t yet laid out. The water between us becomes a barrier of heat and tension, and I can feel him getting closer, his breath mingling with mine, quiet and measured.

Then, with deliberate patience, his fingers shift down to my legs, gliding along the smooth skin of my thighs. My pulse quickens, and I struggle to keep my breathing steady, not knowing whether to lean into the touch or brace myself against it.

When his hand nudges my legs apart ever so slightly, it’s a gentle but insistent movement, a tease that has my heart pounding in my chest. It’s almost as if he’s savouring the slow build-up, the way he’s tracing every line of my body with his fingertips—each touch purposeful, each stroke drawing out more of the tension that I can’t escape. 

Suddenly he’s lifting me a bit, one strong arm around my waist against. A soft sound of surprise leaving my lips when I feel the tip brushing against my soaking entrance, a soft question on his lips. I’m nodding before I realise it, gripping the arm around my waist and completely forgetting that this isn’t me. I don’t fuck for fun but Xaden sends every rule of mine out the window, especially when he’s slowly and carefully sinking me down until he’s fully sheafed inside me. 

My head falls back onto Xaden’s shoulders he hands go back to exploring my body but all I can focus on is the delicious stretch of him, the tip feeling like it’s pressing against my cervix. No-one has stretched me this much and it’s almost too much to handle and Xaden can tell, the way the rough pads of his fingers run over where we’re connected. His lips brushing my neck, biting down and littering my skin with hickeys that I am in no way going to be able to cover up tomorrow. 

I’m opening my mouth to speak but he silences me by circling my clit, a smirk pressing into my jaw as he continues to roll lazy circles over my clit, my walls fluttering around his girth filling me up. I can already tell I’m not going to last long with the mixture of stimulation and I’m gripping Xaden’s arm that is paying attention to that bundle of nerves as my thighs clench together. He’s moving his lips from my jaw to my ear, murmuring, “Come for me baby.”

Those words plus one more tight circle on my clit has my aching back arching, drawing Xaden even deeper than I thought possible and my walls are clamping down around him, feeling hi twitch inside me as waves of bliss roll over me. I can feel Xaden rocking his hips up ever so slightly and before I know what’s happening he’s sinking his teeth into my shoulder and his dick is throbbing, filling me up with rope after rope until I feel it dripping down into the water and he’s letting out a low groan of pleasure. 

His breath is ragged against my ear, each inhale a sharp, uneven sound that mirrors the frantic rhythm of my own. His body is still pressed tightly against mine, and I can feel the heat of him seeping through the water, the warmth of his chest against my back as his arms tighten around me.

"Fuck..." he breathes, his voice strained, rough with the effort to regain control. It's low, almost a growl, but the vulnerability in it—how breathless he sounds—has my heart hammering in my chest. The intimacy of the moment makes my head spin, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck, needing the coolness of his skin to steady myself.

Every part of me feels alive, humming with the aftershocks of what we've shared. My lungs are still struggling to keep up, my chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. I close my eyes, trying to slow the frantic pace of my breathing, but with Xaden so close, the air feels thick, charged with a quiet tension that doesn't seem to want to fade.

His lips brush against my neck, a soft, breathless kiss that sends a shiver racing down my spine, and his hand, still resting on my hip, flexes slightly. "Take it slow," he murmurs, his voice low and raw, like he's trying to soothe me, but I know it’s just as much for himself.

I want to say something, to break the silence, but every word feels heavy, every sound trapped somewhere deep in my chest, caught between us like the air we share. His presence, the heat of him, the way he's holding me so close—it’s all too much, too overwhelming in the best way possible.

And as I try to regain my breath, the world outside seems to disappear, leaving only the two of us, tangled in the aftermath.

The warm water, the steady rhythm of Xaden’s breathing, and the weight of his body against mine have me feeling utterly relaxed, more than I’ve ever felt before. My muscles, still sore from training, are languid and loose, and I can feel myself beginning to drift, the world around me fading into a haze of warmth and comfort.

I try to fight it, to stay awake, but my eyelids are heavy, and the rhythmic pulse of the water, the sound of Xaden’s heartbeat, and his steady presence make it hard to keep my thoughts straight. Everything in me is exhausted—physically, emotionally. I feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, and it’s like a lullaby, pulling me deeper into sleep.

The gentle pressure of his hand on my hip only makes it worse, a soothing presence that makes me feel safe and cherished, like I could stay here forever. I let out a soft sigh, nestling further into him, too tired to do anything but let myself be held.

But then, I feel him shift, his hand nudging me gently as the cold begins to settle in, and I realise the water has started to cool. A part of me knows I should get up, but my body protests every movement, too spent to function properly. The weariness pulls at me, a fog I can’t shake.

"Come on," his voice is soft but insistent, the edge of concern threading through the words. "We need to get out before we both freeze."

I barely manage to lift my head from his chest, my eyes half-lidded as I try to push myself up, but the effort is too much. My body feels like lead, and the warmth of the bath is so comforting, I can’t seem to summon the energy to do anything but slump back into him with a soft groan of frustration.

I hear him curse softly under his breath, and before I can protest, his arms shift around me. In one smooth motion, he’s standing, lifting me with ease. I’m held against him, wrapped in his strong arms, and I’m so out of it, so weak from everything we’ve just shared, that I don’t even think to object. I rest my head against his chest again, too tired to fight it, and just let him carry me.

He moves with surprising grace, effortlessly holding me as though I weigh nothing at all. His body is warm, and I can feel the solid strength of him beneath me as he carries me out of the bath, stepping carefully through the bathroom and towards the bed. The movement causes a slight shiver to roll through me, but I barely register it, too lost in the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

The cold air that hits my skin as he pulls me from the bath is a shock, but it’s quickly replaced with the warmth of his hands as he gently helps me sit up. His touch is careful, almost reverent, as he grabs a towel and begins drying me off, his hands moving slowly over my skin, taking extra care around the sore muscles from training. The friction of the towel feels comforting against my damp skin, like he’s erasing the tension that’s settled in my body.

Every pass of the towel makes me feel lighter, his movements deliberate, yet tender. He’s so close, I can feel his breath against my skin, and I can’t help but be hyper-aware of every little sensation, every brush of his fingers. He finishes drying my legs and feet, then wraps the towel around my shoulders, pulling me into a standing position for just a moment. The dizziness that tries to creep up on me from being so relaxed is immediately washed away by the firm grip of his hands, steady and sure.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me for a moment, his gaze steady and warm, before picking out one of his oversized shirts from the pile of clothes he keeps by the door. It’s big enough to drown me, but he’s surprisingly gentle as he slides it over my head, the fabric billowing over my frame like a soft cloud. When the shirt falls to my knees, he gives a satisfied nod, his hand lingering on my arm for just a second before he guides me back to the bed.

I’m so exhausted, every inch of my body heavy with fatigue, that I barely manage to crawl into the bed, curling under the thick covers as Xaden moves to the side. But I can’t stop watching him, my eyes half-lidded as he dries himself off with a towel, the water dripping down his chest in rivulets. His muscles flex as he works, and I feel my breath catch in my throat as I take in every inch of him—his broad shoulders, the tautness of his abdomen, the way his hands move over his body with practiced ease.

He doesn’t seem to care about modesty, or maybe he simply doesn’t need to, because before I know it, he’s slipping into the bed behind me, his bare skin pressing against mine. I feel the heat of him, his presence a constant, undeniable force against my back. He doesn’t bother to pull on any clothes, his bare chest brushing against me as he settles in, his arm wrapping around me, pulling me close.

I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding, my body sinking into the warmth of him as I try to adjust to the feeling of being so close, so tangled in his presence. His heartbeat, steady and calm, thumps against my back as he presses his lips to my shoulder, a small, contented sound leaving him. It makes me shiver, not with cold, but with something else—something deeper, something I can’t quite define.

Xaden’s arm tightens around me, but his touch remains gentle, his warmth seeping into my skin as I finally relax into him, the exhaustion of the day and our shared moments taking its toll. I let myself breathe deeply, every inhale filling me with the scent of him—musky, warm, a hint of something like cedar and saltwater.

I close my eyes, but not before I catch one last glimpse of him, the outline of his face in the dim light, his expression soft but still holding that intensity I can’t shake. It’s enough to send a flutter through my chest, the lingering tension in my body finally dissipating as I let sleep claim me. His body behind me is a steady, reassuring presence, and in his arms, I feel like I’ve found a place I never want to leave.

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

@xadenswhore @fanficscuziranout @daisydark @Mariahoedt @marrass @universallyrascaldreamercookie

[littleemissperfecttt]

The Youngest Sorrengail

About the story: Y/n is violets twin sister. Unlike violet y/n was trained to be a rider by her mother and to be a scribe by her father. The sisters have a strained relationship. Will y/n continue to resent violet because of the past or will she help her in surviving basgiath war college?

<<Previous Chapter Series Masterlist Next Chapter>>

Chapter 2

Y/n pov-

I wake up in the middle of the night and checked if violet and Rhiannon are asleep. I wear my uniform and my corset back and walk out of the room quietly to make sure they don't wake up because of me

I slip past all the guards and go to my usual space. This is the place i usually came to when my mother brought me to Basgiath. It looked the same. The same two trees arched together to make a small nest of some sort. This place was-is my solitude. I sit in a comfortable spot between the arch. There's a small stream running down in front of the tree

I found this place when my mother brought me to Basgiath for one of her meetings. I was too bored and sneaked out to find this place. Since then every time I came her with my mother I would come here to be free from everything

I close my eyes to feel the cool breeze hitting my face and the second I open it I was flung out of my spot to a nearby tree. With my reflexes I had already pulled my dagger out

My body was wrapped with shadows, I narrowed my eyes as I sneered "what do you want Riorsen?" I asked calmly

"What are you doing here cadet?" he asked glaring at me

I knew if he could I would be 10 feet under the ground. I also knew he didn't care about the codex so he was very free to kill me however he liked

I took a deep breath in relaxing my muscles "Needed sometime alone wingleader" I said my voice coming out more confident than I was feeling inside. He didn't respond just assessed me with his eyes

"You shouldn't be out here all alone cadet" he said as his shadows dropped me and in a second he was hovering over me almost pinning me to the tree. I was cornered and I had no way of escaping unless I kill him or he kills me or he let's me go which i doubt will happen 

"I know wingleader that's why I was being careful until you came" I snapped back and in a second my dagger was on his throat. I was ready to strike him so was he

"You think this little thing will save you?" He asked almost amused ALMOST

"I didn't say it would, it's just a precautionary measure wingleader" i said 

"Go back to your room cadet" he said "before i do something I won't regret" 

He turned his back on me so I can leave but i didn't have any intention of leaving any time soon... It's now or never i thought to myself 

"I want in" i said my voice calm

"In? On what?" He asked as he turned back to face me again 

"In on what you and the other marked ones are doing! And i want to help" 

He just raised his eyebrows "help with what Sorrengail?"

"I know about the venin and how they are destroying everything outside of the wards... And i know you and your friends have been allies with Gryphon Fliers. I know you are helping them too!" I said as he was shocked it was written all over his face

In a second he took me by my throat and pinned me to the tree but this time I was fast I ducked down before he could grab my throat and punched him in the open gut 

"I can fight too Riorson but i thought we could be allies for mutual benefits!" I tried calming him down

His eyes narrowed "what mutual benefits?" He asked still in fighting stance i could feel the shadows moving 

"I help you with training the marked ones to be stronger and help you with the shipment when I get a dragon and you train me to get stronger so I can kill the dark weilders and...." I turned away feeling uncomfortable not wanting to ask him but I had no other choice i would rather die than ask a favour from my sister so this was the better option 

Xaden's pov-

I was speechless. I could read emotions but I didn't expect her to drop such a huge bomb at me. All I could read was she was being honest and when she looked away I could read shame and embarrassment. What could the Sorrengail girl be embarrassed about? Mommy didn't give her boots or something?

Nonetheless I wanted to know how she even got to know how she knew about what we were doing

".... I want someone to help me with history and physics" she finally said as she turned her head sideways but I could see the blush she had and the embarrassment radiating off of her

"How do you even know what we are doing?" I asked still cautious

"One time when I came here with my mother... You were in your first year and still hadn't had control over your signet... I was sneaking around when I heard you and that tall guy who looks like a bear talking about all the things you wanted to accomplish and how you wanted to help people" she said

I observed her, her mental guard was down. Well she was a first year that too she didn't have a dragon so I don't even think she knows what mental guard is

Her emotions were a mix she still had embarrassment but now i could read honesty and supportiveness radiating off of her. I could also read kindness, caring and accommodation this was her innate feelings . There was more into her emotions but I can't read it now I have to give the girl her answer

"Why do you even need help? Can't you ask your sister?" I asked still observing her

"If I could I would have already Riorson but I can't, so I need help with it" she said keeping her voice low and calm

"Aren't you afraid I would kill you Sorrengail?" I asked

"I would treat death as a relative Riorson you haven't killed me yet, you could have killed me the instant you saw me here all alone, you could have killed me and walked away like nothing happened" she looked around "there's no one here too... This actually proves that I can trust you"

I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous she sounded but she did have a point I could have killed her still can and from what I can see she would let me without a fight

I smirked "I will do what I can Sorrengail, I am not alone in this war"

She nodded her head understanding

"You can take all the time you want Riorson I just need someone who can help me read history and physics... And any other subject that needs books" she said and turned around

I watched as she walked away from me, I could feel the scars burning. The 107 scars, this decision is not just mine. I know my people will agree to whatever I say but this matter was very crucial and I had to talk to all of them or at least my most trusted ones.

This girl was something and I had to be careful at all times. She wasn't timid like her sister and I have a feeling she likes to poke her nose in everyone's business. as pretty as she is- what the! I shook my head because of the thought I had and distracted myself and continued my way to my room

Back to your pov-.....

The next day..

"Welcome to your first Battle Brief" Professor Devera says from the recessed floor of the enormous lecture hall later in the morning, a bright purple Flame Section patch on her shoulder. This class was held in the circular, tiered room that curves the entire end of the academic hall and one of only two rooms in the citadel capable of fitting every cadet.

I was shocked to see second and third years here. I thought they had other classes to attend but I was wrong battle breif is important to everyone and they HAVE to be here no matter what. I saw Dain this morning he tried talking to me but was called off somewhere so he couldn't and i didn't bother going to him. It's true we have known each other since childhood but he was more Violet's friend more than mine

"In the past, riders have seldom been called into service before graduation," Professor Devera continues, her mouth tensing as she paces slowly in front of a twenty-foot-high map of the Continent mounted to the back wall that's intricately labeled with our defensive outposts along borders.

Dozens of mage lights illuminate the space, more than making up for the lack of windows and reflecting off the longsword she keeps strapped to her back.

"And if they were, they were always third-years who'd spent time shadowing forward wings, but we expect you to graduate with the full knowledge of what we're up against. It's not about just knowing where every wing is stationed, either." She takes her time, making eye contact with every first-year she sees.

"You need to understand the politics of our enemies, the strategies of defending our outposts from constant attack, and have a thorough knowledge of both recent and current bating If you cannot grasp these basic topics, then you have no business on the back of a dragon." She arches a black brow a few shades darker than her deep-brown skin.

"No pressure," Rhiannon mutters from beside me she is sitting between me and Violet as she continues taking notes "We'll be fine," Violet promise her in a whisper. "Third-years have only been sent to midland posts as reinforcements, never the front."

I nodded my head "it is true" I whispered to Rhiannon "You don't have to worry for now" she looked at me with an eyebrow raise "we still haven't completed half of the stuff they have planned for us so till then we will be fine... If we are strong to face all the challenges" I whispered with a smirk as my sister gave me a side-eye when she did I smiled so sweetly at her that even I could vomit

"This is the only class you will have every day, because it's the only class that will matter if you're called into service early." Professor Deveni gaze sweeps from left to right and pauses on Violet. Her eyes flare wide for a heartbeat then she looks at me as though I have to give her some confirmation so all I did for the response is nod my head at her. I know she doesn't understand why Violet was here but she did give my sister a reassuring smile before continuing

"Because this class is taught every day and relies on the most cure information, you will also answer to Professor Markham, who deserve nothing but your utmost respect."

She waves him forward, and he moves to stand next to her cream color of his uniform contrasting with her stark black one. He whispers something to her while he glances at my sister's direction. I look over at her and see her shoulders dropping. Should I ask her about it? Nah she will only ramble whatever this is to me even though I didn't want to hear

"It is the duty of the scribes not only to study and master the past but also to relay and record the present," he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he looks somewhere else other than my sister "Without accurate depictions of our front lines, reliable information with which to make strategic decisions, and most importantly-veracious details to document our history for the good of future generations, we're doomed, not only as a kingdom but as a society"

First topic of the day." Professor Devera moves toward the map and flicks her hand, bringing a mage light directly over the eastern border with the Poromiel province of Braevick "The Eastern Wing experienced an attack last night near the village of Chakir by a drift of Braevi gryphons and riders"

"Thirty-seven civilians were killed in the attack in the hour before squad from the Eastern Wing could arrive, but the riders and dragon managed to repel the drift," Professor Devera finishes, folding her arms over her chest. "Based on that information, what questions would you ask?" She holds up a finger. "I only want answers from first-years to start"

"Come on, first-years, show me you have more than just good balance Show me you have the critical-thinking skills to be here," Professor Deven demands. "It's more important than ever that you're ready for what's beyond our borders."

"Is this the first time the wards have faltered?" a first-year a coupled rows ahead asks.

Professors Devera and Markham share a look before she turns towar the cadet. "No."

I knew this, this was one of the information I had gathered when I sneaked around when my mother has brought me here

The girl clears her throat. "And how...often are they faltering?"

"That's above your pay grade, cadet" Professor Markham replies glaring at her. He turns his attention to our section. "Next releval question to the attack we're discussing?"

"How many casualties did the wing suffer?" a first-year to my right asks. down the

"One injured dragon. One dead rider."

Another murmur rises from the hall

The conversation goes on as I tune everything out, I heard Professor Devara tell something to my sister but the only question I had in my mind was what were they searching for? Why would they attack for no reason?

When I did tune back into the discussion I heard it loud and clear Xaden Riorson asking the same question that was in my mind. I turned to face him as we made eye contact for just a moment but that was enough to convey a message only I would understand. He didn't know anything about this attack and was searching for answers as well

-

It was the time I had been waiting for. Hand-to- Hand combat, this is something I have been good at since I was trained since I was a kid for this. I knew tricks and had experimented on these tricks to make a special move for myself

I snapped back to reality when I heard a CRACK

"What the-" I started as I saw Jack Barlowe holding a limp first year kid. The kid was smaller and thinner than Jack but what he did was unacceptable

The instructor ran towards them "What did I say? You broke his damned neck" he shouts

"How was I supposed to know his neck was that weak?" Jack replied nonchalantly, I glared at the guy. I knew he had given threats to my sister because she was... To put it plainly weak... He hasn't even glanced at my direction since he crossed the parapet maybe he knows how strong i am? How I alone can take care of him? I made a mental note to make sure to keep an eye on this guy so he doesn't pull any shit with me.

"Eyes forward," Emetterio orders. "You don't have to get used to it," he tells us. "But you do have to function through it. Sorrengail..." He pointed at me "and Duskborne" he pointed at the other guy- was his name Ryan? I didn't know, all i know is I am going to kick his ass

I turned to Ridoc who was beside me "10 seconds..." I said "huh?" He asked confused at what I am saying "if I finish this match in 10 seconds you will have to give me the food you stole from the kitchen" I said, he chuckled "sure sure Sorrengail" he said with amusement

The guy- Duskborne was a marked one and he had a smirk on his face and when I saw his eyes... It was the usual rage the need to kill me because I was a 'Sorrengail'. He watched every move I made as I made my way to the mat

I know those emotions very well, I also knew when a person has these kinds of emotions it is easier to defeat them

"Ready to meet your doom Sorrengail?" He asked as we circled each other on the mat

I just gave him a bored look in response which made him angrier

"Just because you are a Sorrengail doesn't mean you are superior to everyone!" He yelled, I raised my eyebrows "are you all bark but not bite?" I asked

His face turned red because of anger as he charged at me. I glanced at Violet who had her hands covering her mouth as she watched my match with concern

I mean the guy is two times taller and had muscles but that doesn't mean anyone can underestimate me

When he threw the punch all I did was side step and grab his arm. I used all the power i had in my shoulder as I hauled his body onto my back as I threw him off the mat. I heard a THUD as he fell down.

The Gym fell into a stunned silence as Duskborne didn't get up from his spot.

I heard Emetterio swear under his breath as he exhaled "Sorrengail wins this round" The silence was still loud as I caught Xaden's eye from across the room, he had a smirk on his face as he... Wait is he checking me out? I shrugged my shoulders and went to Duskborne

I grabbed some water and threw it at him to wake him up "Get up" I said as he blinked and looked around. By the looks of it he was most definitely confused at what was happening and where he was. When he did realise what had happened he glared at me

I raised my hand to help him up. He glared at it for a second before taking it. He made discomfort sounds as i pulled him up. "Your back is sprained... You should ask one of your friends to massage it" I said as he dusted his clothes

"Why are you helping me?" He asked his voice rough

"Will you believe me if I say I actually want to help you without any ulterior motive?" I asked raising my eyebrows. He was silent for a few seconds before he shook his head

"I can help you train... We can help each other.. it's mutual benefits really" i said

He thought for a second "sure... But I will have my eyes on you Sorrengail" he warned before marching over to his friends

I walked back to my squad as they looked at me. Rhiannon was on the mat with someone. My twin turned towards me and asked "what was that about?" She asked

"That my dear Violet was beating someone's ass within 10 seconds" Ridoc said as he wrapped his arms around my shoulder

"That was amazing Y/n" Sawyer exclaimed as he patted my back

"It really was... It was hot too, like man you can most definitely manhandel me" Ridoc commented as i punched his side playfully

"Oh shut up Ridoc" I rolled my eyes

"Whatever you say... But between me and Sawyer it was a total mommy move" he laughed

Violet made a gagging sound "that's still my sister" she pulled me beside her which surprised me a lot... What was she even doing?

"I mean what was all the talk about?" She asked as I looked around not wanting to start a fight with her today, when I met those onyx eyes again, he turned around and walked away.

To everyone it might just look like it was just his usual arrogance but i knew better. He was asking me to follow him.

"We will talk about it later Violet" I said "I have to go for now"

"Aren't you going to watch the rest of the matches?" She asked

"I will.. I will come back in a few minutes" i turned around as she got distracted with Rhiannon coming out of the mat

I followed where he went and looked around to see a curtain of shadow.... "Xaden?" I called out as the shadows swirrled around me and pulled me into it

Masterlist Next Chapter>>

Taglist: @lreadsstuff @lagrandeourse

[scorpioriesling]

hello! can I request a part two of your sorority imagine with Liam, Ridoc, and Dain?

The Morning After

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

Pairing(s): Modern!Liam x Dain x Ridoc x reader

Warning(s): none

Summary: After a wild night out, you're left to sort through the mess the morning to follow.

SR’s Note: Hey, I get it, I needed resolution too -- however, this made the most sense in my little head how this story should end. <3 I hope you love it!

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @lreadsstuff @freakishfandomfiend @littleemissperfecttt @loveofmychips @bodhidurrans

(inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

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

Life of The Party

You could only open your eyes to slits the following morning as sunlight streamed through the window. Groaning, you wiped at the crusty corners of your eyes and adjusted to sit, widening your eyes more in an effort to take in your surroundings.

Brow furrowing in confusion, you realized you were in your own room. Your dresser sat in the corner, your desk along the far wall -- and those magnolia curtains that did nothing to block out any outside light.

You looked beside you, the movement causing your head to swim. Groaning again, you took in the rumpled duvet and sheets in disarray. It looked as though someone slept there, however, it was empty now.

You reached for your phone on your nightstand, clearing your throat and realizing how desperately you needed water. Turning it on only made the pain in your head spike with the bright light, so you clicked it off and tossed it aside. Lying back down on your pillow, you reflected on the events of last night.

The kiss with Dain.

Ridoc giving you his shirt.

Ridoc then fingering you.

Liam putting his dick in your-

You rubbed your eyes, wishing to get all those images out of your head. You remembered it all so clearly, everything that went down -- up until, of course, you'd gotten back home somehow.

You layed for five more minutes before you decided was a great first step to try and shake off the hangover. However, when your feet hit the hardwood and you stumbled to the bathroom, the worst case scenario rang true.

Liam was just down the hall in the kitchen, and despite your wishes, he noticed you. He looked up from the toast he was eating, immediately setting down the plate and striding for you.

"Oh good! You're up," he said, and your stomach dropped. This was not how you wanted to start the day.

"Liam, I-"

"Last night," he said, drawing closer to you as he spoke. "Yeah... I wanted to talk to you about all that," he chuckled, his cheeks pinkening. You sighed, bracing your open palm against the bathroom door in an attempt to regain your balance.

"Uh huh," you agreed. He looked at you apologetically, his lips twitching.

"Look... you're one of my best friends, and so is Ridoc," he explained, and you nodded despite the growing migrane. He loosed a breath, running a hand through his short blonde locks.

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I don't think it's something we should make a 'thing'; honestly, I'm not over Jesinia, and I really really enjoy just being friends-"

You blew out a sigh of relief, one hand coming to brace his forearm.

"Pheww! Yes, thank God you said that," you laughed, and he chuckled softly. "Yeah, I think just being friends is for the best; can we just pretend nothing ever happened?" You looked to him pleadingly. He grinned, pulling you in for a tight hug. You breathed in his delicious sunny scent, reveling in the relief you felt.

"If you say nothing happened, it never happened." He assured before letting go. He made a face as you moved to open the bathroom door, recalling something.

"I think Ridoc will be happy about it, too."

Your face pinched. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Liam shrugged, feigning innocence.

"I dunno -- he should be home soon, ask him yourself."

You tried to put it out of your mind as you stepped into the shower, preferring to focus instead on the running water and hangover cure (or so you hoped). But, what Liam said stuck with you. Where was Ridoc, anyway? Had he stayed at Violet's last night? Had he stayed with someone else?

You shook the thought as you scrubbed shampoo into your hair, reminding yourself he could do whatever he pleased. He was single, after all.

But, a small part of you wilted at the thought of him with another woman.

A woman that wasn't you.

✧･ﾟ: *

It was the early afternoon when you'd gotten out of the shower, and you found the house rather quiet when you stepped out in only a towel. The hunt for a shirt was quick; one of Ridoc's old tees had ended up in your drawer, and you chose it over the others as you always did.

As you brushed your hair and padded around the flat, you instantly noticed the bouquet sitting in the middle of the table. Intrigued, you plucked the folded card from the center, and flipped it open to read.

Y/N, Last night was fun, and I'm so happy we met. But, you know how strict it is with my frat, and though I wish it could be different, I think it's best for us to be nothing more than friends. Can we make that work? Dain

Your stomach churned at the reminder. You really liked Dain, truly -- but with all the regulations his frat had on him, there was no way it would ever work. Besides, you'd come to realize but fail to admit that he may just be a placeholder. The one your heart truly yearned for obviously only saw you as a friend; Hell, he had a new girlfriend each week. What were you?

Sighing, you leaned in to smell the roses anyway. You smiled softly at the fresh scent, and for the first time all morning, you weren't thinking of your sinful evening prior -- you were thinking of what could come from it.

Ridoc, bringing you flowers.

Ridoc, taking you on dates at the park.

Ridoc, telling you how much he-

You forced yourself to stop. Ridoc was your friend, and he saw you the same way. Your heart drooped as you sank onto the plush cushions of the couch, grabbing the remote in favor of a movie to take your mind off things. However, you scrolled past your usuals, not finding anything particularly interesting.

✧･ﾟ: *

You were halfway through Mamma Mia when the front door opened. You hated how fast your head turned, and the way your heart stopped as he stepped through the entryway. He kicked his shoes off, sniffling once as he made his way to the living room.

His steps halted when he saw you, the brown bag clenched in his fist in surprise.

"Oh! Y/N, uh... h-hey," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You paused the movie, sitting up straighter and pulling the blanket more securely around you.

"Ridoc... hi," you said awkwardly. He chewed the inside of his cheek before raising the bag, his eyes wide with glee.

"I brought you breakfast... er, lunch, now, I guess," he chuckled, stepping toward the couch. He plopped down beside you, setting the deliciously greasy-smelling food down on the coffee table before you. You reached for it, peering in to see your favorite; fries and chicken strips, with two ranch dips on the side. You beamed at him.

"My favorite!" You said, and he laughed. You began pulling the items from the bag, setting his cheeseburger and fries with ketchup in front of him and your food in front of you. "Thank you Ridoc, seriously I'm starved."

The two of you ate in silence, enjoying eachother's company while you tried not to confront every thought flooding your mind. You snuck another peek at him, taking in his disheveled hair, unshaven stubble, and usual but muted sage-y scent.

He was surely with a girl.

You remained quiet, munching on your fries when he cleared his throat to break the silence.

"You can keep watching your show," he said softly, reclining back and getting a bit more comfortable. You rolled your eyes playfully.

"You? Want me to put Mamma Mia back on?"

He chuckled. "You know I love ABBA."

You grinned, switching the movie back on as you too leaned against the back of the couch. He swallowed, reaching an arm to lie atop the cushions and around your shoulders. In the quiet that followed, you'd scooted closer to him, snuggling beneath the shared blanket.

"We haven't... you know... uh," he mumbled softly. You raised your head from his shoulder, dreading where this was going.

"We haven't...?"

"Talked. About last night." He said, and you chewed the inside of your cheek in anticipation.

"Oh."

"Yeah... um... look, Y/N, I-"

"You know what, actually, spare me, please," you said, sitting up straight to look your best friend in the eye. "I know what you're gonna say -- it was a mistake, it wasn't good, we should never do it again-"

"No no no no," he says, taking your waving hands in his as his eyes meet yours. "That's not what I was getting to at all, Y/N."

Your open mouth closed, and you relaxed your shoulders a bit.

"Oh... sorry. Continue, then."

He smiled softly, his gaze still holding yours.

"Y/N... last night was... different, for me." He admitted, looking down in thought. "I've never done something like that before that I... I don't know. It really changed things," he says, and your heart began to sink.

"It doesn't have to," you offer quickly, squeezing your fingers in his. "Ridoc we can still be friends, and go on like we have been -- Liam and I are cool, Dain and I are cool, we can be too?"

Ridoc's face falls slightly.

"What if I do want things to change?"

Your brow slowly furrows as you make guesses as to what he means.

"But... why?"

Ridoc squares his shoulders, his hands holding your clammy ones tighter.

"Y/N, I think last night showed me what I've been doing wrong this whole time -- I loved how I felt, but I didn't exactly like sharing you and I most certainly hated watching everytime my best friend or that Junior prick got their hands on you," he declared, and your heart began to beat faster.

"I know I'm not as... boyfriend-material, like Liam, and I don't," he sighs, gesturing to the roses on the table. "I don't bring you flowers, like Dain. But, I just can't keep trying to find you in every other woman I'm with because the truth is; you're right here. You've been here, this whole time, and I'm an idiot for not noticing it before."

Your cheeks heated at his words, and you let go of one of his hands to cup his jaw instead. You turned his downcast gaze back to you, smiling softly as you peered into your favorite pair of brown eyes.

"Ridoc, I don't need boyfriend-material, and I don't need flowers either." You inched closer, and his gaze fell to your lips. "I think I just need you."

A soft smile crept onto his mouth, and he reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers tilted our chin to look up at him.

"I wouldn't have gotten you roses, anyway," he whispered, drawing your lips closer to his. "I know daffodils are your favorite."

You practically moaned into the kiss when he finally pressed his lips to yours, the sparks egniting even more than they had the night before. He deepened the kiss, his lips sliding with yours as he tugged you onto his lap, his hands roaming and pulling you close as though this was the last time he'd ever get them on you. He was smiling when he pulled away, looking up and memorizing every inch of your face before he spoke again.

"Well... this has been one Hell of a morning after, huh?"

✧･ﾟ: *

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 48. Say Thank You

Summary: After an interesting conversation over breakfast, Garrick has some ideas he wants to try out with Dahlia.

Warnings: Smut. 18+. Minors DNI. Unprotected Sex. Inappropriate signet use. Breath Play/Choking. Restraining with hands. Sex in a public area.

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links | Tumblr Community

I moan as the hot water washes over me, relieving the tension and aches in my muscles from being out on RSC the last few days, my eyes slipping closed as I tilt my head back. I’d gotten a shower in when we’d returned last night, but it had been so quick I barely got to enjoy or savour it before crawling into bed and falling asleep. Pretty sure the water had also been icy cold when I’d taken that shower.

My eyes snap open when strong hands grasp my hips, pulling my back against a solid chest, light kisses trailing along my shoulder. With how my body reacts I know it’s Garrick behind me. No one else could make my skin feel like it was alight the way he did. He nuzzles into my neck as he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me completely flush against him, his arousal evident as it presses into my lower back.

”Pretty sure this is the girls bathroom last time I checked.” I tease as he kisses my neck, my head rolling to the side easily to give him more access.

”And last time I checked I didn’t give a fuck.” He growls into my neck before lightly nipping my neck.

Suddenly the hot water from the shower feels colder, its heat nothing compared to the way Garrick’s set my body alight. I look at him over my shoulder, his eyes already locked onto mine, intense and unreadable. I’d seen him crave me, seen how lust had looked in his eyes. But this was different. There was something primal in his gaze. My breath catches in my throat as he lifts a hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear before letting his fingertips trail down my jaw, his lips capturing mine in a passionate kiss.

Garrick spins me around, grasping my thighs before picking me up with ease before backing me into wall. I gasp at the cool feeling of the stone wall against my back. He trails kisses down my neck, and down my chest before moving to my breast, his mouth latching on my nipple. I cry out, my head falling back against the wall as he sucks on it, his tongue flicking over the tip before moving to the other one. My fingers tangle in his dark curls, tugging roughly on them as he lightly nips the sensitive skin. I feel the tip of him teasing my entrance as he straightens his back, my hips moving back and forth in an effort to get some relief. But my efforts are stopped when Garrick grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head as he grabs both in one of his hands, the other pinning my hips to the wall.

”Someone’s needy.” He teases, as his lips hover over mine.

”Can you blame me?” I gasp out as I wriggle my wrists in an effort to get free, but his hand doesn’t budge. “I think three nights is the longest we’ve gone since we got back from war games.”

He smirks against my lips. “Would have been two, but I’ll make up for that little flower.”

”And how do you plan on doing that?”

He removes his hand from my hips, letting me grind up against him again, sighing as his tip rubs against my clit. “You might have to say thank you to Bodhi for asking how you like your coffee tomorrow.”

I furrow my brow at him, not sure what he means, and I don’t get a chance to ponder why as he grips my hip and pulls me down onto him, sheathing himself in one smooth motion due to how wet I am. My arms pull against his hand which still holds my wrists captive with ease as I throw my head back against the wall. I don’t know what profanities leave my mouth, but I feel Garrick rumble with laughter at whatever I’ve said.

”Relax Dahlia.” He murmurs into my neck as he slowly thrusts in and out, the pace almost torturous.

I need him to go faster, fuck me into the wall with reckless abandon. It was stupid how addicted to being with him I was already. I craved him more than I cared to admit. And right now this slow pace was fucking doing my head in.

”Tavis, move your hips faster before I use your signet against you.” I growl out at him through clenched teeth as I look at him.

His lips pull into a smirk, his dimple popping just enough to be annoying. “Not if I use it first.”

I go to lower my shields to pull on his signet, but my breath catches in my throat. All of a sudden breathing is much harder than it was, but not painful. Movement catches my eye and the hand that was holding my hip is raised, his fingers wrapped around something invisible. Garrick’s words from earlier bringing back what I’d said to Bodhi this morning.

”Sometimes just plain sex is fine, but sometimes you gotta mix it up with some choking or being tied up.”

Garrick must see the realisation in my eyes, his hands tightening on my wrists as his hips finally let up from the damn torturous pace he’d set. My back arches off the wall, my body not sure how to react at first to the feeling of what Garrick is doing, but after a few moments my body relaxes into it and a strangled moan leaves my lips. I’m completely at Garrick’s mercy as he pins my body and hands to the wall, and my breathing now literally in his hands. With another flick of his wrist the feeling around my neck tightens a little more. Fuck. My body instantly reacts, clamping around Garrick’s cock as his pace falters slightly.

”That’s it little flower.” He coos before kissing my neck so softly that it almost startles me.

I roll my head back against the wall, my mind foggy due to the lack of oxygen and the feeling of Garrick deep inside me. I loved when he pinned me against a wall or door, the position letting me fully take him in at the perfect angle.

He releases my hands, my body fully sinking down onto him. “Fuck Dahlia.” He groans out, burying his head against my neck.

I loosely drape my arms around his neck in an effort to hold him to me, but my body is so weak he could move away with ease. The feeling around my neck tightens again, my body shaking against his as I get closer and closer. Garrick wraps his arms around me, holding my tightly to him as he backs us out of the shower, lowering me down on a towel he must have laid out earlier. His hands push my knees wide, my back arching off the bench as he thrusts into me. I reach out, trying to find something to grasp onto in an effort to ground myself, but I come up short, settling on grasping my own hair as I get closer and closer. Finally Garrick releases the hold he has on my breathing, my body gasping for air as I cry out and shatter. Garrick continues to pound into me relentlessly before following me over the edge, moaning loudly his hips still against mine, leaning forward to rest his forehead against mine. Both of us just gasping for breath as we ride out our high. He wraps his arms around me again, scooping me into his arms before sitting on the bench as he settles me in his lap, pressing his lips to the top of my head.

”You were right.” I get out eventually once my breathing has settled.

”Right about what?” He asks.

”I might need to say thanks to Bodhi tomorrow.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus @ohlookitsasinglepoeceofpopcorn @emoravenwolf @imheretobeinvisible @pvrkacciosan

[violetsorengail]

back to negotiations :)

[fourth-wing-stories]

I can't wait any longer

Pairing: Garrick Tavis x reader

Summary: After almost losing each other at Resson, Garrick comes to your room. He's done not acting on his feelings for you.

A/N: I´m a sucker for Garrick

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN, check bio

It had been one hell of a day. The battle you’d barely survived was still fresh in your mind, every near miss and flash of steel playing over and over in your head. The adrenaline had faded, but the weight of everything that could’ve gone wrong clung to you. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, running your fingers through your messy hair, trying to calm your racing thoughts. But no matter how hard you tried, the fear, the relief, the emotions of almost dying wouldn’t let go.

A soft knock interrupted your thoughts. You glanced at the door, frowning. Who would be coming by this late? Slowly, you stood and opened it, and there stood Garrick, his face a mask of seriousness you weren’t used to seeing. His usually cocky demeanor was gone, replaced by something raw, something real.

“Garrick?” you asked, confused, but your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his eyes.

He stepped inside without asking, closing the door softly behind him. “I almost lost you today,” he said, his voice hoarse, like he’d been holding it in for too long. He didn’t wait for you to speak. He moved closer, his presence overwhelming, pulling all the air from the room. “I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. “Garrick…”

“When I saw you were running from the venin all I could think about was... I can’t—I won’t—die without being with you.”

You felt the flood of emotions hit you all at once—relief, fear, the exhaustion from the day—but above it all was the heat in Garrick’s eyes, and the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. You wanted to push him away, to fight the vulnerability you always kept hidden, but your resolve crumbled under the weight of the day and the raw need in his voice.

His hand came up to your cheek, brushing away a stray hair. His touch was warm, steady, and it made something inside you break. “I want you,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve wanted you for so long, but almost losing you today... I can’t wait anymore.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and before you could even respond, his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was desperate, intense, filled with everything the two of you had been holding back for too long. Your hands found his chest, pulling him closer, your body responding to the heat and urgency between you. You could feel the pounding of his heart, matching the wild rhythm of your own.

He kissed you like it was the only thing that mattered, like it was the last chance either of you had. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you against him as the kiss deepened, the tension that had built between you for so long finally breaking.

You didn’t resist as he lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked you back toward the bed, his lips never leaving yours. Your back hit the mattress, and Garrick hovered over you, his eyes locking onto yours, searching for any sign of hesitation.

But there wasn’t any. Not tonight.

“I need you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. “I need this.”

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek. “Then take it,” you whispered back, your voice steady, even though your heart was racing. “I’m yours.”

That was all the permission he needed. His lips found yours again as his hands slid beneath your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending shivers across your skin. You tugged at his clothes, eager to feel him, to be as close to him as possible, and within moments, the rest of the world faded away.

It was all Garrick—his warmth, his touch, the way he moved against you like you were the only thing that mattered. The night was filled with whispered names, heated kisses, and hands exploring places that had only been imagined until now.

[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. 

[theseinfernalangels]

From the Inside: Threshing, According to Sawyer and Sliseag

Synopsis: We all know how Threshing went for Violet Sorrengail, but what about Sawyer Henrick, the lonely boy from Luceras who was forced to repeat? A dual perspective on the matter, presented by Yours Truly. ❤️‍🩹

Note: Includes some background lore from my ficverse, I’ve Been Big and Small.

SAWYER ⚔️

I’ve been waiting for this for exactly 364 days, give or take a few hours: A second chance, a second opportunity to prove to everyone that I am not worth being left behind. I am more than a repeat, and dammit — I’ll tear apart this whole fucking valley if that’s what it takes for me to come out alive.

I will not be left behind again. I refuse. I’ve already been in survival mode since the day I realized it was either me that would fight for my family, or no one at all. I’ve been fighting the good fight against my will for years. I already had to walk out of this valley with nothing to my name but blood running down my face and a boatload of shame. 

No more. I will not go back.

Diving into the forest gives me that painful déjà vu, reminding me that I’ve been here already. I’ve played this game before, and I lost. I don’t care; I have an advantage over everyone here, even stupid fucking Jack Barlowe, who has enough audacity to walk around acting like he’s the strongest man alive.

I know the rhythm here. You run, you duck, you jump, you swing, and if you have to slash at a leg or two, so be it. Threshing isn’t for the weak of heart; I learned that one the hard way by avoiding the violence. Today, though, I’ll have to welcome it.

As far as I can tell, none of my squadmates are close to me, which is good. I trust them, even more so than I did my last squad, but I don’t want them to see me like this. To see just how hard I’ll fight in the name of proving myself. Every scar, every scream, every wound opened will be worth it. It has to be. 

So I fight. I throw myself into the violence of Threshing with nothing but a year’s worth of more experience, a few blades, and my own tenacity. I repeat my mantra to myself quietly, as if I’m speaking it out loud to the two people I know for a fact would listen every time.

I will not fail. I will not disappoint you. I left for good cause, and this setback will not hit me again. I will make you proud, I promise.

It comes to a head at around noon, when the sun beats through the trees and darkens every dappled shadow that surrounds us in here. My sword clashes with someone I recognize from First Wing — no name comes to mind, though. We pivot around each other like we’re in some complicated dance, but I’ve been practicing more and know the routine better. Every so often, I feel the unmistakable feeling of something — someone — watching us, but I know not to question it. This valley may as well be a stage the way dragons sit and judge you the entire time.

Fine. They want a show? I’ll fucking give them a show.

I don’t know what comes over me — anger or pure desperation. One moment, I’m being jumped from behind. The next, I’m staring at the First Wing cadet’s body twitching as blood pours from his neck. For once, I don’t feel guilty. I’m keeping myself alive, and—

Oh. 

Now I get it.

I spin around as a deep, grating rumble sounds in the air behind me. I know better than to flinch away, so I press my fingers into my palms and stare directly in the direction of the noise.

Holy gods.

I watch undergrowth and foliage give way as a dragon — enormous, strong, and ruby red — stands to its full height, pinning me in my place with slitted golden eyes.

I don’t move. I don’t even look away. In retrospect, it’s a horrible idea, but part of me doesn’t give a shit anymore. Something tells me that the dragon doesn’t, either — not when it just stares, leveling with me for a moment before I feel something shift within me.

It’s almost like a deck of cards, the way it pokes into me. The dragon picks out a part of me, scrutinizes for a second, and then puts it back in the pile. I have no idea what I am doing now; finally, finally, I’m in uncharted territory. It sees my will, my desperation to prove myself, to make my family proud, to fight as hard and often as I need to in order to move on. It sees me protecting my sisters when we were children, left defenseless in the Luceran woods for days at a time. It sees everything within myself that I’ve managed to unleash today, and then—

Shit. It sees everything else.

I can’t find it within myself to panic, but it’s truly unnerving how a dragon can peel back everything within you all the way down to your core. I’m not prepared to face it seeing my sense of worthlessness, rejection, and loneliness after what happened last year. I feel raw, exposed, and vulnerable — and yet, I notice, I’m not afraid. I feel…seen.

Something unseen surrounds me and then jolts, stabbing into my heart with what sounds like a clap of thunder. The dragon looks unperturbed, though, and sits, its scales flashing like pure flame. I go to say something, anything, but I’m cut off by a low, rumbling sigh from a previously undisturbed corner in the back of my mind.

“Well, it is about time. I’ve been waiting for you forever, Sawyer Henrick.”

I flinch a little, my eyes widening for a moment before I catch myself. No fear in front of a Red. None for it, none for me. Not when someone finally gets me. I straighten and then nod. “I could say the same.”

I have questions. So many actually, that I’m not sure where to start. My moment of hesitation is not unnoticed, though, and I’m hit with waves of…annoyance that shank me down a little, cherry-colored string that starts to glow within me.

I feel a muscle tighten in my jaw, and I stare up at it — No, him — with something akin to omnipresent desperation.

“Do you…see me?”

I expect a booming voice, a deafening roar that will rattle me to my very core. It doesn’t come. Instead, I hear a low hum down that string again, before I hear him speak once more.

“Of course I see you. I’ve been waiting for you. I am Sliseaglarann, son of Tíogairlile and Lasairdorcha of the fierce Dearghairicín line. You are mine now, and you will never be alone again. Rise from the ashes, my Ashling. We’ve got work to do.”

Sliseaglarann. Sliseag, for short. He sees me — he wants me. I’m his, and he is mine. I feel a stab of relief cut so deep I could start crying — but I don’t. Not in front of him. Not when I’m so close to getting out of this hellhole.

Instead, I straighten and then grin, joy taking possession over everything in me. Sliseag watches approvingly as I take a running start and scale up his massive shoulder — albeit a bit clumsily. Neither of us care, though, not when I slide down onto his seat and take a huge breath.

I am a rider now.

Gods. I’m a fucking rider now. 

I am a rider, and I will never fucking be left alone again.

“No,” the — my — dragon agrees, disturbing the ground below him as he stretches his wings and straightens his back. “No, you won’t. We fight and die together, you and me — from the inside out, Ashling.”

___________________

SLISEAG 🐉

I watch the cadets gather by the entrance to the valley, their scents intermingled with excitement, fear, and tension. One scent rises above the rest of them to me: Pure, unbridled determination that I can smell from almost a hundred miles away.

It comes from one. I cannot tell who. 

I do not care. 

They are mine.

From above the valley, I make out the familiar shapes of my brethren. I spot Baide’s sleek form lying in wait, undoubtedly licking her lips in preparation to torch more than a few cadets who think they can match her thirst for violence. Deigh, my nest-mate, waits patiently in a clearing, as if he too knows exactly who he wants. He actually bothered to show up to the Presentation, unlike me — I don’t care much to incinerate cadets who I have no business with in the first place. From the edge of my vision, I can even see Tairn lingering in a rocky alcove much too small for his size. It’s clear why he’s there, though, judging from the small golden speck that dances around his legs. Still just a hatchling, that one. I have no clue as to why she is here and not in the Vale, but I suppose it is no one’s business except hers.

The cadets start streaming into the valley, and I take the opportunity to tuck my wings and glide into a spot where I know most cannot see me, because I do not want most. I want one. They will be mine by sunset, should they not be killed by another.

They better not be.

I lie in wait. I do not like waiting, but I will what for what I have already claimed. Occasionally, I see cadets come and go, but they are nothing to me. They reek of fear, and the ones that don’t are half-dead anyway. Maybe I am cruel for not stepping in — but, then again, that is not the fault of the dragon. I cannot be blamed for the incompetency of humans who are not even worthy of being here. Zihnal may be content to grant them luck, but dragons do not answer to even gods.

I still do not strike, although my claws itch to. I think I might be the most patient Red in the valley, and my nest-mates probably believe myself to be mad, but to hell with all of them. I want the one with the iron resolve, or I will not bond this year. It is written, and it will remain so.

I tire of waiting until I hear shouts up ahead of the brush I shelter behind, and wouldn’t you know it — I feel them, so close and yet so far. Their scent of tenacity is speared by that of anger and desperation, and I know now that I must intervene, lest my determined one be killed right in front of me. I coil my muscles and slowly but surely bring myself to my feet, rising above the forest floor as I stretch my limbs to their fullest.

Two humans. One alive, one dead. One with blood pooling from his throat, and the other gripping a sword as he curls his hands into fists.

That is the one. 

A low rumble leaves me as I stare down at the boy, who turns and stares back at me unflinchingly. It is strange. Impertinent. Disrespectful to most of my kind. I do not mind, though — not when I am exactly the same.

Leveling my eyes with his own, I inspect him — all of him— sharply. Tall and strong, defined by years of fighting for the survival of himself and his kin. Strawberry blonde hair, a smattering of freckles, fern green eyes that shine like a summer storm on rolling hills.

And then I look deeper. I look, for the first time in a decade, inside, and I am not disappointed by what I find.

At first, I see his resolve, honed from working and fighting. I see him making a shield of himself, throwing himself in front of dangerous humans who dare to prey on those he loves. I see strength and ferocity and fire…And then I see it below.

Loneliness. Isolation. Hurt. Abandonment. The memory of walking out of this valley with nothing but blood and shame to his name. Unwanted. Invaluable. Rejected by my brethren, for reasons unknown to even me. I peel back every layer of protection that he’s built himself, every ward, every barrier, until I’m digging down into his core. I find pure steel that will not walk away from this valley until he’s on the back of a dragon, even if he has to kill for it, or set the forest ablaze until he’s the only one among the flames.

He doesn’t have to, though. Not with me.

I cast out with my power, slowly encircling his mind of quiet power and then lashing out, spearing our connection in place with a loud snap. He still does not move. He just watches. Waits. Observes.

Slowly, quietly, I exhale and stretch my wings before I settle, staring not into his eyes, but into his very soul.

“Well, it is about time. I’ve been waiting for you forever, Sawyer Henrick.”

That is the moment he unfreezes, his eyes widening by just a fraction before he seems to catch himself. He sheathes his sword behind his back and crouches to really look at me, peering at my ruby red scales that scream danger to those who have the audacity to approach me.

“I could say the same,” he whispers, staring at me as if he has found finality, an answer, something to hold on to that won’t leave him to the wolves when the time is rife.

Certainly not. Never with me. 

He falters for a moment, which makes me itch with irritation. Someone with strength such as this does not falter around me. As my annoyance hits him in waves, his jaw ticks. Something in his eyes tightens, and I’m slightly put off by what he asks of me.

“Do you…see me?”

Oh. Now this boy, I must treat with care. Not pity — clearly, he’s had enough of it for a century — and I refuse to coddle a human. Still, my tone is surprisingly easy as I reply.

“Of course I see you. I’ve been waiting for you. I am Sliseaglarann, son of Tíogairlile and Lasairdorcha of the fierce Dearghairicín line. You are mine now, and you will never be alone again. Rise from the ashes, my Ashling. We’ve got work to do.”

He blinks and then stands, posture like that of a true warrior. I watch with a tinge of pride as he holds his head high, his face lighting up with a smile that screams of triumph.

Yes, little Ashling. Stand tall, for you fight alongside me now, and I do not let my riders burn. If you fall, count on me to drop with you, for we have become one.

Do you like my work? Leave a comment so I can add you to my taglist!

[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."

[chaoticneutraltor]

[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

[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."

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

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. 

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

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."