#imogen DOWN BAD AGAIN | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

channieskies · 6 months ago

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𝓇𝑒𝓋𝓊𝑒

🔺Pairing: Chris/Bang Chan x FEM!|Reader 🔺Summary: Finding yourself as a bridesmaid once again, you're dragged along to a male review where each dancer is just as charming as the next. But what happens when you're trapped in the main events' magnetizing spell? 🔺WC: 14,600+ {40-60 min reading time} 🔺AU: Stripper AU, Bridesmaid Au 🔺Genre: Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Non-Idol AU 🔺Nets: @neverendingdreams-net & @mirohs-aurora-society 🔺Warning(s)⚠️: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! This post contains nsfw material. Please do not interact with it if you are under the age of 18. Do not translate or repost to other sites. Unprotected sex [please wrap it before you tap it. This is fiction, and I control the narrative. Real life is scary, so please be safe], dom and sub undertones, creampie, oral (male and female receiving), choking, slight exhibitionism, fingering (fem receiving), light spanking, mentions of self hate, mentions of cheating. (please let me know if I missed any) 🔺Disclaimer: This story does not reflect the real lives or personalities of Stray Kids. I do not know them personally. This is purely a work of fiction. 🔺Authors note: Hi! This has been a story in the making for over a yeah now. I wrote and intended to publish this back in Oct 2023, but I never finished it. With new found inspiration, I found myself able to finally push through and publish this. I hope you enjoy this (old ass) story! Special thanks to @therhythmafterthesummer &@bunnliix for beta'ing this for me. I really appreciate it!!

Once a bridesmaid, always a bridesmaid. This was your third wedding this year. Meaning, it was soon to be your third unflattering dress. Your third time smiling uncomfortably in pictures. This would probably be your third time getting stuck dancing with the handsy uncle who always smelled like aqua velva and cheap liquor. You conclusively loathe attending weddings, but absolutely loved and adored your friends. So when asked for the third time this year to be a bridesmaid, of course, you agreed. Because, what else are friends for?

A party bus full of late twenties and early thirty somethings, pre-gaming after pre-gaming, sounded like a setup for a god-awful lifetime movie. One where the bride gives some lucky stranger her goods after the bachelorette party and before the wedding. But you hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Imogen had been planning this wedding for four years now, and it was finally coming to fruition. She was the type to never let anything get in her way, and that included herself.

“I’m going to slide down that man and ride him till he calls me mama!” You chuckled as your friend struggled on the pole pushing her party city veil out of her face. “He won’t see it coming. He has no idea what kind of freak he's about to call his wife.” She’d been abstinent since her last relationship, so naturally, her and her fiance were celibate. That meant neither of them had dusted off the cobwebs in over four years. Couldn’t be you, but if she liked it, you loved it for her.

But you guessed forced celibacy was just as bad as actually vowing to not have sex. You were in a no-man’s-land. Pussy drier than the sonoran desert. Truthfully, if anyone did touch you, you were sure an actual cloud of dust would puff out of your cunt. It was terrible, really. Your last relationship ended with him cheating, after wholly decimating your confidence. Making your answer to ‘But He’s a photographer, he sees pretty, skinny girls all the time. What would stop him from cheating on you?’ totally irrelevant.

You caught them in your bed, on your Egyptian cotton sheets. Three hundred thread count sheets that you let him keep, since you knew you couldn’t wash the filth out of them. To make matters worse, she was much younger -barely legal-, and half your size. It was just your luck that her billboards were posted all over town. A fucking model. Yeah, that was a never ending cycle of self-denigrating that you had to unpack with your therapist. You swore up and down you'd never let it happen again.

But you were better now. Well, at least you hated yourself less. It took some time, a LOT of therapy, and the help of loved ones letting you know you were loved. Plus you have learned how to love and take care of yourself better. You’d given that man all of you and expected nothing of him and you know what they say about expectations right? Keep them low and you’ll never be disappointed. Bullshit. Even if you don’t have any, expect to be disappointed.

The bus rolled to a stop. The neon lights wrapped the building and entrance. Large posters of scantily dressed, well-oiled men stood stories tall. Big burly guards stood out front of the entrance, you guessed, to drag any woman who got too handsy with the dancers, out and off the premises. You all piled off the bus, bride and her maid of honor first. All of you, except the bride in her tight white dress, were in an array of green.

Your dress was a dark emerald color. The satin dress hugged your body just right, hitting you mid-thigh, with ruching around the stomach to hide anything you didn’t want to show. Like your tummy. You stood back, not too excited to see sweaty men gyrating in your face. But your thoroughly plastered friends would beg to differ. “Party for Standfield.”

One of the guards checked his tablet and nodded. He talked into his earpiece and opened the velvet rope. “Your host will meet you inside. Enjoy your stay at Taste, Male Revue.” He gave a knowing smile as your group sauntered past him and into the red glow of the front door. You were blasted by air as you entered. Rosemary and bergamot invade your senses almost immediately.

“It smells like a man in here.” One of your friends noted as she swooned.

“Acqua Di Giò, it was what my ex used to wear to be exact.” You were perturbed. You wanted to have fun tonight, let down your hair. Not be reminded of the insufferable douche you thought was the one.

“Great nose you have there ma’am.” You jumped as you were greeted by the host. He smiled. His features made him look like a fox, he was absolutely adorable. He looked way too young to be associated with a den of sin. What was he doing here? “We pump the fragrance into our system, it’s one of the owners favorites.” He nodded and bowed, greeting your party officially. “Welcome to Taste, male revue. I am your host for the night, Ian.”

You squinted at his name tag that clearly had the letters ‘i’ and ‘n’ written on it. You wanted to speak up about it, but when you looked around at your friends you realized it wasn’t worth the concern. “We have set up the v.i.p lounge for your party. Your bartender is starting on your first round of drinks as we speak. Your food will be served after the first hour of performances. Any booked solo time will be conducted after dinner and dessert. Please make sure to reserve your favorite dancer for any solo time before the conclusion of dessert.” He nodded, giving you all a once over, as if counting the party.

“It seems everyone is accounted for. Please follow me so we can kick this night off.” The main club area was a huge space with white tables and chairs that contrasted with the black carpet flooring. The stage was black, but shiny, making it a smooth surface for the dancers to glide over. The main stage area was packed. An oiled up dancer was grinding on some pretty blonde girl while she giggled.

"Must be nice.." you mumbled under your breath as you watched her get flipped upside down, her barely clothed vagina now in the dancer's face, her face in his crotch. The scene disappeared from view as you were ushered into the v.i.p area. Over the door it read "The Chapel", The tall frosted glass door looked like it had been hit with a blast chiller. I.N led the group past the doors, an odd but pleasant smile on his face. The floors were still black, but everything else was white and silver. Light lines the floor to help people navigate the darkness.

By the looks of the room the theme had to have something to do with ice. There was a bar that was made from glass that was back-lit with blue and white lights to give the illusion of frost. The ceiling was mirrored and also lined with lights around the perimeter. "Dibs on the seat next to Imogen!" Your friends clamored as they practically raced to the front near the stage. There was a chair sitting directly in front of the stage, a sash with the silvery letter of "bride" written on it.

"You want to sit next to me, Y/n?" Imogen asked as she grabbed your hand. The two of you had been friends for so long that she could tell when something wasn't completely right with you. She squeezed your hand to get you to look at her. "If you feel even a little uncomfortable here, let me know, okay?" She smiled and you reciprocated.

"I'm fine Imogen. Plus, this night is about you. One last night of free looks before you're tied to Jerry from accounting forever." She laughed.

"That doesn't mean I don't want my girls to enjoy the night too. Honestly that's what I want the most out of it. So, sit next to me. Okay? Allana said the guys here are extremely hot" You hesitantly nodded. There was no way you would have picked a seat that close for yourself, but this was about what she wanted. So, naturally you would agree.

His days never started before noon. Anything before two pm was entirely too early for him. Days always shifted into night and then into the wee hours of the morning. So sleeping until the sun was high in the sky was a must for him.

Chris reached out to the other side of his bed, feeling the cool sheets against his hands. It had been a while since someone occupied that side, his last relationship ended over a year ago. But they were still close friends, since it ended amicably.

He groaned, forcing himself to roll over and swing his legs off the side of the bed. His hair was messy, curls pointing in different directions, face and lips a little swollen from activities the night before. Also known as late night ramen with his best friend, Changbin. His phone buzzed on the night table, alerting him that it was time to wake up. "I know, I know." He groaned, shutting it off.

He eventually forced himself to leave the comforts of his bed and padded to the bathroom right outside his room. After showering and grooming, he made breakfast for him and his roommates, as well as pre-workout shakes. The three of them headed off to the gym a few blocks away from their apartment, together. He loved the atmosphere there. People were kind and supportive and it was never too crowded. He put on his playlist and zoned out.

After a good shower and lunch, he and his friends headed to work. You'd think after coming home so late at night they wouldn't be ready to go back. But they loved their job. It was fun to interact with people and dance. Getting to see the smiles on clients' faces made everything worthwhile. Plus it didn't hurt that he had some of the highest requests. Becoming so well known that he had danced at parties for some elite celebrity clientele. He couldn't tell you who though, he signed a n.d.a for that very reason.

"Alright, A team, we have a bachelorette party coming up tonight. They requested all six of team A. The maid of honor said and I quote, 'Give us all of them. We all like something different.' So, be ready for a wild night and a lot of bookings." Jeongin, the club manager and host stated. Bachelorette parties were always a mixed bag. It could either be a group of tame women who let go when they got a few drinks in the system. Or wild women who got even wilder after a few drinks. Or it could be the ones who ended up with their photos posted in the hall of shame. Those were the ones no one could let back in because they caused so much of a ruckus.

A year and a half ago, Chris had an encounter with a hall of shame inductee. She thought it would be a good idea to sneak backstage and hide in his dressing room. He was taking off his make-up when she popped out from behind his clothes rack completely naked. Telling him how she saw how he looked at her and that she knew she was just his type. He tried to talk her down, but no wasn’t in her vocabulary. It took two guards and Jeongin to pull her off him. She scratched his arm up so bad that even when it healed he had to get a tattoo to cover it.

But thankfully, hall of shamers were a rare occurrence. "Chan, they asked you to be the headliner for the night. Maid of honor says you're just the bride's type. So make sure to work your magic on the bride to be." He nodded. Once their briefing was over he headed to the dressing room to get ready for the night.

"Did you see the pictures of the bridesmaids?" Changbin asked as he caught up with him in the hall. "I wonder how many are single. Because the bride has some gorgeous friends." He showed him the folder with their pictures in it, just a few random girls on top. Folders were usually provided for parties that might be willing to spend a little extra to get "special" treatment. Not all the dancers participated, but they had rooms past the party lounge, just for extra services. Changbin frequented the rooms, especially if he found a party goer that really caught his eye.

Chan used the rooms at first. But he felt cheap everytime he saw the extra money on his check. It felt like he lost a part of himself each time he did it. So, eventually he just stopped. The owner understood, telling him that he didn’t need to force himself. He didn’t look back and had no desire to.

The hours had quickly passed him by. It was nearly showtime. The guys could see the bridal party shuffling in, taking their seats. A few of them battling over the two open seats next to the bride. The bride was off to the side talking to another woman he couldn't see, before she dragged her along to one of the seats next to her. The house lights dimmed just as the woman was about to step into view, so he didn't see her face. "Alright guys, it's showtime." He spoke to the room. He pat Minho's back, since he was the first one up. Minho simply smirked as he headed out of their waiting room and to the curtain for countdown.

A few of Imogen's sorority sisters were giving you death glares. She chose you and her maid of honor, her sister Allana, to sit at her sides. The rest were situated in comfortable white arm chairs. Drinks had been served, not that the ladies in this party needed any more to drink. They were already inebriated. Minus you, also known as pedestrian Pattie, because of your one drink policy. The lights on the stage slowly brightened, revealing the host from earlier in the center of the stage. His outfit had changed completely. The suit he wore before was traded in for a black mesh shirt with a cassock. A matching black stole with silver and white crosses on it. Dress pants and boots. He was a priest, and this was his chapel.

"I hope you ladies are ready to get on your knees... and pray." A few of your friends screamed, exhibiting just how ready they were. "The temptations will be high tonight, let's see if you can survive it and join me on the other side. I hope our first performer can tempt you to let go of your inhibitions and pull you to the dark side." He moved from the center off to the side, "Anyone need their pipes cleaned? Welcome to the stage, Lee Know."

Thirsty by Taemin started to flow through the speakers. You could hear the little water droplets at the beginning of the song. From the line I.N threw out about cleaning pipes and the water drops, you knew exactly what the theme would be. Plumber. As the lights focused on the performer, you noticed how handsome he looked. Worn jeans with rips in them. Working boots and tool belt. Long hair that covered his eyes added to his mysterious charm. He wore a white tank top and his arms were so well oiled you could almost see your reflection.

Was this what male revues were like? He slid to the end of the stage, right in front of you and Imogen. Your eyes were wide, hands unconsciously moving to cover your chest. He ripped the shirt, but not completely. He left a little of it to cover some of his abs. He reached a hand down slowly as he thrusted, practiced fingers making quick work of his button and zipper. His body rolls were immaculate. You swallowed hard and he noticed, winking his eye in your direction. A girl behind you squealed thinking it was meant for her, but his eye contact told you differently. He smirked and stood, jumping down right in front of Imogen. He grabbed her hand trailing it down his torso to where his pants were undone.

Her mouth dropped as she blushed furiously. She shook her head profusely, adamant about not even touching a man that wasn't her fiancé. He smiled, and it was one of the most dazzling things you had ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. His eyes landed on you and you stiffened. He smirked again, clearly sensing your hesitancy. He moved to the girl who screamed for him earlier and by all that was holy you were glad it wasn't you. If he fucked anything like he danced, some lucky someone was definitely walking out if here pregnant tonight.

He had somehow removed his jeans without taking off his boots, a feat in itself. You had no idea where he pulled a water bottle from, but his ripped shirt and tight boxer briefs were soaked. The way his body moved, his thick thighs, the devilish smile he wore, all of it was heart attack inducing. No wonder they called this room the chapel, it was aptly named. You were certainly in need of prayer after witnessing him work his magic. From him picking her up to bounce her on her like he was fucking her while standing. To him putting her down and grinding into her rear. This first dance was surely an eye opening experience.

Once the song ended, I.N made his way back to the stage, sly smirk on his face. "You've been blessed by Lee Know. But are you ready for the next performer? Or do you ladies need some holy water?" He eyed the crowd. "It seems like you're in the mood for something sweet after quenching your thirst. Anyone like….. peaches?" He moved to exit the stage again. "Welcome to the stage, Lix."

The names seemed to get stranger as time went by, first an Ian that was spelled I.N. Then Lee Know, who clearly knew a lot, judging by how his body moved. Now a Lix? Was he going to show tongue tricks? The room filled with fog, the lights fading from white to peach as Kai's Peaches started to flow through the speakers. You excused yourself, letting Imogen know you were taking a break. You headed past the bar, making eye contact with the bartender, who tipped his head at you. You returned the gesture with a smile before smacking dead into a hard chest.

"Oh- sorry." Hands flew to your waist as an assurance that you wouldn't fall. You let your eyes travel to the man in front of you. He had on black boots, slacks, and a black tank tucked into them. A sleeve of tattoos that you glanced over, but couldn't help but immediately noticed the snarling wolf on his hand, while brushing your eyes quickly over the rest. He had a stud in his beautifully large nose, messy smokey eyeshadow. His hair was styled in an unkempt way, but it looked attractive on him.

"It's my fault, I should have been looking where I was going." The accent threw you through a loop. He let you go, taking a step back. "Are you with the bridal party?" He nodded towards the small crowd who were cheering for Lix. It was now the hallway guy’s turn to give you the once over and truth be told you had to press your thighs together at how his eyes lingered on your lower half as he bit on his bottom lip.

"If they continue like this, yes. But if they somehow cause trouble while I'm away… I've never met those people in my life." Your little joke caused him to laugh, putting his pretty smile and dimples on display.

"Are you enjoying the show?" His brow rose as he leaned against the wall. It was almost as if he had all the time in the world to chat you up in this corridor.

"Yeah. I mean, this is my first time at a male revue, so it's a little different. Takes a little time getting used to seeing male bodies gyrating in your face." You looked back at Lix who now had one of Imogen's sorority sisters grinding on his lap. You quickly looked away and back at the confidently relaxed man in front of you.

"As opposed to a female, I'm guessing?" His voice seemed to deepen with his question.

You hummed, "I've been to a few strip clubs. My close friend invited me to his bachelor party a few months ago, and I've been back a few times since then. But Allana, the maid of honor, she's been here a couple of times, so she decided to book this for her sister." He nodded slowly, taking in your words.

"But are you enjoying it?" He tilted his head to the side.

"I mean.. it's different." You chuckled, "It has its charms. The dancers so far have been different from the last, so that's good."

"So, I take it you haven't found a dancer you like yet, is what you're saying." He had this smug look on his face as he said it.

"I liked the first guy, he was cool."

He hummed, nodding to himself. "Cool, huh?" He smirked, "Okay. So, what can be done to make this a good experience for you?" You tilted your head as you looked at him. Why was he asking you this? This was a night for Imogen to enjoy, you were just here in support.

"For me?" You purse your lips in thought, softly humming. "As long as Imogen- well, the bride to be is happy, so am I." He shook his head, not liking how you answered for your friend and not for yourself.

"Taste is an experience for all of his patrons, brides, bridesmaids, and whoever else comes in here. So, I'll ask again.” He plastered on the most charming, panty melting smile he could manage. Dimples on full display. “What can be done to make this a good experience for you?" He leaned in towards you, your faces a mere breath away from the other as he looked you square in the eyes. “What would have you coming back for more?”

"It would be nice to see someone get flipped around, I guess." You shrugged. He asked, so you threw it out there. “I saw someone getting thrown around on the mainstage as we made our way back here. They were practically sixty-nining on stage. That was pretty cool.”

"See someone get flipped around, yeah?" he nodded as he leaned back to his original spot against the wall. "Not willing to be the one getting flipped?" You laughed unexpectedly, taking both you and him by surprise. You cleared your throat as a way to cover up the abrupt chortle.

"Do you have Hercules or Captain America back there or something?" You nodded to the door that had a small 'restricted access' sign on it.

He shook his head. "No. But I -" You cut him off again, this time with a piteous sigh and a shake of your head.

"Do you see all of me or is your vision half off like the happy hour drinks?” You clasped your hands together as you tried to find the words to explain how insane he sounded. “It's cute that you want to try, it really is. But, sweetie, you'll throw your back out trying to flip me around." You moved next to him and pointed towards your group," You have all of them to choose from. Pick one that you can handle." You pat his shoulder. "Break a leg." You left him there stunned.

You quickly made your way to the bathroom to freshen up. That man was hot, absolutely everything about him was attractive. His accent, his eyes, lips, nose, dimples, tattoos, the way he stood there, that ass that you noticed as you passed by him, every single last thing. Too bad he had delusions of grandeur for thinking he could handle a woman like you.

Chan had a routine and for the most part he stuck to it. He'd put on the bottom part of his stage outfit, do his hair and makeup, then scope the crowd for whomever his victim would be for the night. The poor unsuspecting soul would never see it coming, until he was in their face seducing him.

He usually watched the crowd, to see how they reacted to the dancers before him. He noticed a few of the women in the party were down for anything. That could be fun, but they usually ended up wanting more than just a private dance. A few were reserved, only dancing a tiny bit in their chairs to the music.

Then there was you. The one who looked in awe of everything that was happening, like this was a totally foreign concept to you. Like you were having your male stripper cherry popped, so to speak. As if this was an eye opening experience. He eyed your expressions before his eyes traveled down your body. Every last inch that he could see of you was stunning. As if he didn't already have you as his pick for the night, you pulled him even more with your radiating beauty.

Plus it helped to see that you were clearly on edge. The way you kept shifting in your seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs let him know you were aroused by the show. He could make good use of this information. He was told to go for the bride, since he was her type.

But by the way she was redirecting dancers to her friends, knowing exactly who would be the best candidate for each dancer, says she is loyal and might be the best wingwoman in town. He needed to make good on his promise to approach her first, and hopefully she would direct him right to you.

Bumping into you was purely coincidental. He usually didn't make contact with his person for the night until he locked eyes with them on stage, he liked for things to seem organic. But talking to you only made the fire inside of him grow hotter. He was desperate to prove you wrong. To show you that he just simply needed to be Chris to flip you around or do whatever else it is you fancied.

You were confident, he'd give you that. You knew what you wanted. He liked that. But what he didn't like was you dismissing him like that. Hercules? Captain America? It absolutely boggled his mind that you thought you were incapable of receiving what that girl on the main stage received just because you had a few more curves. He settled at the bar and nodded to the bartender. He always took a ceremonial shot before his stage, tonight would be no different.

"What's on your mind?" Seungmin asked as he placed the empty shot glass in front of Chan. "Because I can see you overthinking from here." He poured the top shelf tequila into his glass then slid it closer.

"The woman who passed by here not too long ago, did you get a good look at her?" He really didn't know why he was asking, it was like Seungmin had photographic memory, he could probably tell him what time you passed by and everything.

"I did. Why?" He narrowed his eyes, "Don't tell me you're going back on your rule." Chan took the shot, shaking his head as the liquid burned down his throat.

"No. I just.." He sighed as he slid the shot glass back across the bar. "Do you think I'm strong enough to you know… flip her? Because she has me second guessing myself."

"Possibly." Seungmin shrugged. "You know Changbin hyung is the better candidate to answer that question." When he didn't say anything further, he knew he was done with the conversation.

"Thanks, Seungmin." The bartender nodded, getting back to making another round of drinks for the party goers.

Chan headed back backstage, passing you again as you exited the bathroom and headed to the bar. You didn’t even spare him a glance, sending him even further into the abyss that was self doubt.

Chan found Changbin in his dressing room, exercising before his set. "Bin. Question." Chan flopped on the couch, not too far away from his friend. "You scoped all of the bridal party, right?"

Changbin grunted and stopped his bicep curls. "You know I did. Gotta pick my person for the night." He grabbed a weight to do bicep curls, he had to make sure his muscles looked good under the lights. "Why? What's up? You look a little worried."

Chan was chewing on his lip nervously, not even realizing he was a bit frazzled by her comments. "There is this girl -" He stopped mid-sentence as Changbin nearly dropped his weight.

"A girl- wait- seriously?" He carefully put his weight down so he didn't accidentally injure himself with any more news. "You plan on… you know.. Going back on your rule?"

"No- why do people keep asking me that?" He sighed exasperatedly. "Where is the folder?" Changbin nodded towards the makeup table. Chan grabbed the folder and skimmed through the photos until he found yours. "Her." He gave his friend the photo, you didn’t have many full body pictures, so Allana provided them with the best one she possibly could. "Do you think it would be possible for me to flip her?" Changbin eyed the picture for what seemed like forever.

"Yeah. I think you can do it. Why are you asking this suddenly? This isn't like you." He slid the picture back into the folder.

"She said I couldn't."

"You felt challenged, huh?" Changbin laughed.

"I- I did and I don't normally let things like that get to me. But- I felt like she dismissed the thought before she'd even seen me work. She told me I'd throw my back out trying to flip her. Then told me to 'break a leg.'" He mocked your tone while rolling his eyes.

Changbin laughed so hard he doubled over, clutching his stomach from the pain of it.

"It's not funny!" Chan usually had unwavering confidence when it came to stage presence, for him to be shaking in his boots over one little comment was the highlight of Changbin's day.

"You're right, it's not funny. It's hilarious. I like this girl. She managed to shake the unshakable Bang Chan.” He smirked and Chris groaned. “But seriously bro, just prove her wrong. Pull her on stage, seduce her, then flip her. Simple."

"But I'm supposed to go after the bride." Chan protested, his face somewhere in between a scowl and a pout.

"Forget that. Minho already said she's denying dances for herself. So go after the friend." He picked his weight back up. "Now get out so I can get ready. I can hear Hyunjin's music playing and I'm up next."

Chan nodded and took his leave. Taking everything his friend said into account. He was going to win her over. He was going to give her exactly what she wished for and a little more.

Bored. That's exactly what you were at the moment. You didn't want anyone to take it the wrong way, these men were talented, there was no doubt in that. They were also too pretty to be real. Like somehow they were all AI generated. You flashed a smile at the unbelievably pretty man on stage as he made eye contact with you. His flowing black locks were mostly pulled into a ponytail, showing off his alarmingly beautiful face.

You figured his theme was that of a prince and honestly, he fit the bill. Regal looking from head to toe. You sipped your drink as he rolled his surprisingly toned body. You appreciated the view even if your usual type was a little bit beefier. You preferred a man that could pick you up, toss you around a little bit. And truth be told, you looked like you could break him just by looking at him. Him, the cute chubby cheeked boy before him and the small fairy-like blonde named Lix. At least the first guy, Lee Know, looked like he'd put up a fight. His thighs at least made him look sturdy. Plus he looked like he might be into a little pain, and you liked that.

You weren't even going to think about the cocky guy from the hallway. Sure, he had nice shoulders and an even nicer ass. But the mere thought that he thought he could flip you was laughable. He didn't look strong enough to flip a table to be honest. You were too caught in your own thoughts to notice that the prince had vacated the stage and I.N. was announcing the next performer. It wasn't until the lights changed from the pretty, calming, pale blue, to the fiery red that consumed the whole room. Alarm bells rung, pulling everyone's attention to the stage. Smoke snaked its way from behind the large white panel that covered the expanse of the back of the stage, giving a hazy feel to the room. “What's my name?”

A few of the ladies must have been paying attention to I.n. seeing that they replied with a roaring “Changbin!”. That included Allana, who wasn't sitting not too far away from you. His voice was gruff, sexy. Your eyes hadn't moved from the stage since the atmosphere changed. His silhouette was the first thing you saw of him. This thick, muscular man. Everything from head to toe looked sturdy and well crafted. You sat up, gripping the armrests of your chair. A smooth r&b track flowed through the speakers as he sauntered out. A fireman. His pants sat low, suspenders keeping them in Place. His Coat was slung over his shoulders, his hat pulled down over his eyes. This man was sexy.

He tossed his coat out into the crowd. He literally fanned the flames of tension between two girls as they started fighting over it, both tugging on the yellow fireman's cloth. What was this effect he seemed to have on all the women, that included you. He held eye contact with Imogen with every step he took off stage. You could see the faint blush on her cheeks as he got closer and closer.

Even he seemed to have a pull on her and that alone spoke volumes. He straddled her legs and grabbed her hand putting it right between his peck before making them dance. She covered her face with her free hand, giggling like some adolescent schoolgirl. You'd only seen her like this a few times in college, but this had to be a first, at least since she'd met her fiancé. He slid her hand down his oiled torso as he body rolled. She was as red as a tomato and you were just as or even more green with envy.

She'd been adamant all night about keeping her hands to herself, what changed? You sighed, deciding to push your jealousy to the side. You took the final sip of your drink. Opting to let the cool liquid calm your nerves. He stepped back, and grabbed Imogen's hand, pulling her to the stage. Maybe she'd had one too many drinks and forgotten the strict rules she had set for herself? Either way, this was her party, something to celebrate her and her upcoming marriage, so you had no ground to stand on when it came to being upset.

But it did look fun. The smile on her face and blush on her cheeks said it all. He picked her up and carried her to stage, all while she covered her face out of sheer embarrassment. Some girls really had all the luck.

Nerves. They weren't something he was used to dealing with before a show and any he did feel would be washed away by the shot he took beforehand. Not today. Chris was beyond just nervous, he was two seconds away from having a full blown panic attack and it was all because of you. You and your words. He knew better than anyone just what he was capable of, but you had him second guessing himself at every turn. Turning to others for advice and reassurance, which was very unlike him.

He looked out at the crowd while Changbin did his thing, taking one for the team and seducing the bride to be, so Chris could have a little more of an opportunity to try and get to you. He eyed your expressions, your movements. Noticed the slight grimace on your face as you looked on at your friend and Changbin with what looked like jealousy. “Ah, so that's your type.” He couldn't help the little smirk that formed on his lips. He and Changbin were gym buddies and even though they had very different body types, they still did the same things when working out. He had this in the bag.

Chan usually fluffed his cock before a show. Though he looked pretty decent without it, fluffing before he went on stage ensured he looked just as above average as he was. He went back into his dressing room to finish getting ready. He took his usual routine, pulling up a video, locking the door so he wouldn't be interrupted. He landed on a video he liked and started to stroke himself. But his cock seemed uninterested in something that had gotten him off time and time again. To say he was frustrated, would be the understatement of his lifetime. You insinuating that he couldn't handle you kept flashing in his head in big, red, neon letters.

What is the off chance that you were right? That he really couldn't handle you. That he'd make a fool of himself and you in the process? What if he dropped you? He'd never be able to forgive himself. He'd never be able to show his face here or anywhere for that matter. What if this followed him for the rest of his life. Like somehow everyone knew he dropped a girl who told him he couldn't handle her. He groaned loudly, so loud he almost missed the knock on his door. “Five minutes.” He sighed. There was no use, his dick was disheartened. He tucked himself back into his boxers and pants and threw on the rest of his outfit.

He did a self check. Breath. Minty fresh. Outfit. Every detail in place. Makeup. Subtle, mostly just a tinted moisturizer and an alluring smoky eye. Hair, straightened and pushed up and back out of his face. He nodded to himself in the mirror. “You got this.” He hit his chest a few times to really pump himself up before heading out towards the stage. It was almost as if everything went mute. He couldn't hear the crowd screaming Changbin's name, practically begging for an encore.

He couldn't hear I.N. trying his best to calm them down so he could announce Chris as the next performer. He couldn't hear the stage hand telling him to wait. He snapped out of it as the young woman touched his chest. “Are you even listening? I.N hasn't announced your name yet.” she rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed by him at the moment.

“I'm so sorry. You know what it's like when I'm in the zone.” He gave her an apologetic look. She sighed and nodded, deciding to let things go. Chris tried his best not to look out at the crowd, he didn't need anything knocking the confidence he'd built up. But he couldn't help himself. He peeked out, finding you and your friends fanning yourselves while giggling. Probably still giddy about Changbin's performance. He couldn't understand why, but that gave him a little confidence boost.

While Changbin was a wonderful performer, Chris was in the top stop for a reason. He couldn't wait to shock the crowd with the routine he had planned. “You ladies have been very naughty tonight. You know that? Now that the flames have been put out, I think it's time we arrest the culprit behind it all. Don't you-” Sirens filled the room again, but this time it was police Sirens. “Oh no, the cops are coming. Is that…” I.N. pretended to look off in the distance as if this was a totally believable bit. His dedication to the scene was impeccable. “It's officer Bang. Be careful ladies, I've heard he's a very bad boy with a badge. I hope you all are ready to submit or be charged.”

The stage hand nodded and Chris finally walked out on stage. With one hand on his belt, the other twirling the cuffs, he walked out to the middle of the stage and stopped. His lips curled into a smirk as he looked over the crowd. He made it to the end of the stage and pointed at a still flustered Imogen. She covered her face and shook her head.

Changbin had clearly done some work on her, if she was back to refusing dances. She glanced from her sister to her best friend as if she was contemplating which one to pick, between the two. She grabbed your hand lifting it into the air, declaring you the winner of the lap dance from officer Bang. Much to his delight and your chagrin.

He extended a hand towards you, a slick smile on his face, while you visibly panicked. “Go, Y/n. Have fun. For me, yeah?” It was like she said magic words. You closed your eyes and sighed. It was for Imogen. That is the reason you relented. At least that's what you tried to tell yourself. You took his hand and he held it until you made your way up the tiny staircase to the stage.

“Before we get started, do I have your consent to do what I need for entertainment purposes?” Your eyes scanned his face before darting to Imogen who nodded profusely.

You sighed again, shoulders falling slightly in defeat. “Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it.” You waved him off just for him to catch your wrist, slapping the cuff around it.

“Then, you're under arrest.”

“What's the charge officer?” One of the ladies yelled from the back. She was a lawyer, so this was probably very familiar for her.

“Underestimating me.” He once again invaded your space, his face dangerously close to your own. You could smell the fresh mint toothpaste on his breath. “You're guilty, until I prove you wrong.” You were so distracted by the alluring look in his eyes that you didn't feel him grab and cuff your other hand until you heard the faint click. “Play my music.” He yelled back at the dj. You felt this overwhelming sense of embarrassment. Was this man about to do what you knew he couldn't?

He bent you over, with your cuffed hands placed on the back of a chair that you hadn't realized had been put on stage. “I can't take you in until I frisk you. So spread those legs for me.” You did as told, spreading your legs a little, feeling your dress ride up the backs of your thighs and settling right in the undercuff of your booty.

You tried not to be self conscious about slightly exposing yourself to not only your friends but a bunch of strangers in the process. You felt the warmth of his hand on the small of your back as he pushed it down ever so lightly, making you arch. The fabric covering your ass was hanging on by a thin thread.

You could have sworn you heard him curse behind you as he rubbed your sides softly. “You aren't hiding anything, are you?” You couldn't see his face, but he was trying his best to continue playing his role. The way your curves looked in this dress was already tugging at the strings to make him come undone. You, bent over like this, this was causing the frayed ends of his sanity pull as well.

“No.” You sighed heavily. You couldn't look at the crowd. To you they could only be responding in either two ways. Disgust or bewilderment. There was no in between in your mind.

“I'm going to pat you down to make sure you don't have anything on you to hurt me.” He knew that was a lie. You'd already hurt him. You couldn't possibly do more damage than you already did to his ego. Or so he thought. With both hands situated on your hips, he ground his own hips into your backside before letting his hands slip down to your thighs.

He dropped to his knees, his hands traveling down with him over the outside and then the over inside of your parted legs. He was immediately faced with more pain than he could possibly manage. He was face to face with the wet patch in your lace panties and it immediately threw him off guard.

It wasn't that he didn’t know you were wet, he'd figured that out much earlier in the night. No, it was because it was much worse than you just being merely wet, you were soaked, panties clinging to your pussy for dear life he was desperately doing to his sanity.

You felt exposed. Chewing on your lip, just waiting for the moment you could finally sit down. The rest of the girls who were danced on were seemingly having the time of their lives and that included Imogen. Why couldn't you just get out of your head? Whether he could flip you or not could be pushed to the back of your mind for the time being.

You just wanted to relax and enjoy the moment. Because when was the next time you'd get a dude to touch you like this? You were more than touch starved for a reason. In a perpetual dry spell. Plus, it didn't hurt to admit that there was this overall sexiness about this man. You sighed, arching your back a little more, spreading your legs a little more. Giving him more of the view he didn't know he needed.

He had to calm himself. The view he had in front of him right now, had to be one of the best things he'd ever seen in his life. It almost felt as if he was receiving the lap dance instead of you. He shook his head lightly, bringing himself back from being too distracted by you. He ran his hands down the outsides of your legs then moved between them to rub back up.

Standing back up, he grabbed your hips once again to grind into you, hands moving up your sides slowly, then up your back to the nap of your neck. He grabbed tight, not tight enough to hurt and pulled you back to him. Your back now flush to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, hips still moving sensually against your own. You could feel his steady breaths against your neck, as if he wasn't doing a routine. As if his heart beating quickly in his chest wasn't enough to alert you to how he was feeling.

“Turn around for me.” You took a moment, but complied. You couldn't have him thinking you were eager enough to comply immediately. You waited a beat before turning around and facing him. He didn't let go of you, but he gave enough slack in his arms for you to move freely enough. Your chest rose and fell with each of your panicked breaths. Being this close in proximity to such a handsome man was making you nervous.

It'd truly been that long since you've been touched? Yes. You were genuinely surprised he wasn't covered in cobwebs from the contact. He hooked his hand under your thigh, lifting it, settling it againsts hip. His other hand sat firmly right above your ass just to keep you in place. You could feel his bulge against your heat, just the thought of his proximity made you salivate. And it turned out that he didn’t need fap material when you were in his presence. He'd recovered just fine after not being able to get it up with his usual means.

From where the audience was sitting, it looked like the two of you were caught in a passionate moment, unaware of the spectators. He ran his nose over your jaw as he pulled you in even closer. There was little to no room between the two of you. It took everything in him to pull away. There was the magnetism you held that made him not only curious about you, but made him want to stick to you. “Why don't you sit down for me, huh?” You sucked in a shaky breath and gave him a faint nod.

He let you go, even if his instincts told him to keep holding on. He took a step back as you took a seat. He tossed his hat to the side of the stage and took his sweet time unbuttoning his shirt. He threw the garment to Imogen who surprised the heck out of you as.she sniffed it. She mouthed an “Oh my gosh he's so fucking fine.” To you while fanning herself, successfully making you giggle.

But those sweet giggles were soon replaced by A gasp as Officer Bang stood shirtless in front of you. You finally got to see the full extent of his tattoo placement. Random little red and yellow flowers, some flags, a cute portrait of a dog. None of it matched his almost sinister hand tattoo. That snarling wolf that looked as if it was staring you down, ready to rip you to shreds.

He leaned into your face once again, pulling you away from ogling his half naked, tattooed body. His finger hooked under your chin so that you'd look up at him. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Something about the way he looked at you as the sensual sounds of the Cuff It remix playing in the background made you press your legs together in an effort to stop your pussy from getting any wetter, as if it could. You were undoubtedly soaked, you knew that and unbeknownst to you, so did he.

“Never.” You whispered to him, a smirk spreading on your lips. “You'd have to earn that, Officer Bang.” You leaned back in the chair, his hand falling from your face and back to his side. The music playing in the background drowned out the conversation the two of you were having.

“Earn it, huh? Alright, bet.” He was putting on an air of confidence, he wanted you, if no one else, to think he was as confident as they came. Even if his feelings had been wavering all night. He took your cuffed hands and placed them on his stomach as he rolled his body. Your fingers slid until they caught onto his belt. He moved in, straddling your legs while towering over you.

“Take it off for me.” His voice was clear and commanding. He watched you carefully as you unbuckled his belt. Your brows were furrowed, lips tucked between your teeth. The amount of concentration exerted just undo his belt, let him know that your mind was working ten steps ahead of you right now. Even the look of innocence you gave him after you completed your task did not negate the fact.

“Thought you weren't going to be a good girl for me?” He whipped the belt through the loops then folded the belt in half. “What happened to me earning it? Huh?” He tapped the leather accessory under your chin. His eyes were so piercing they almost broke the barrier of your confident facade.

“How does that make me a good girl? Maybe I just want to see you with less on. Did that thought occur?” He chuckled, grabbing the back of your head while grinding towards your face. You flashed him that innocent look again, but with your adjacency to his crotch and you darting your tongue out to wet your lips, there was nothing innocent about you.

If anything you straddled the line between playful and something deeply sensual, with little to no effort. You knew what you were doing. You were teasing him, and he loved to be teased almost as much as he loved teasing. “It did. But you're a little too eager for it to be just that.” He stepped back again, hands moving to your thighs again. He pushed them open and lifted them, letting your legs rest around his waist. He grabbed the back of the chair with one hand, the other was placed on your hip. “Just admit you want me. It'd make things easier for you.” The way he ground his hips into you had a moan slipping past your lips

His lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Just give in to me.” He moved in like he was going to kiss you. At least to your hazy visions that's what it looked like. He fit so perfectly between your thick thighs and the way he moved against you was dizzying. Your friends were on the edge of their seats as they watched this dance. It was flirting with being hardcore pornography on the stage. The way your wetness was now dampening the front of his trousers. How your legs wrapped around him, pulling him in with the sharp heels of your shoes.

You moaned again, nails dragging down his stomach. “I could do much more to you if you let me. Just give in to me.” He was staring into your soul. He was touching you, but just barely and yet it felt as if every nerve ending of yours was on fire. As if another part of you was reacting, you nodded. It had to be that part of your brain that was too horny to function. The touch-starved beast that was desperately seeking attention from this beautiful specimen of a man that had you pent down to a chair in front of your friends.

His lips twitched into a small smirk. “Good girl.” He unhooked your legs from around his waist and moved them to his shoulders. His smirked shifted into a cocky smile as he left open mouth kisses down your clothed frame till he was right above your heat. He stealthily placed a kiss to your exposed panties, eyes still focused on yours, but now with a playful glint in them. He placed kisses on your thighs then nipped at the skin.

Chris had never been this drawn to a client before. He wanted to feel your skin for real. To feel your touch, maybe even to taste you, if you'd let him. With him this close to you, he could smell your sweet scent. And if he was honest, he'd tell you just how tempting you were. But, the man had a job to do. He was meant to entertain, and he had no reason not to fulfill that task.

He switched your position, your thighs were once again around his waist. “Put your arms around me.” You didn't hesitate. You looped your arms over his head, letting your arms settle around his shoulder, fingers accidentally threading into the damp patch of hair on the back of his head. He lifted you up, almost as if you weighed nothing to him. The look of shock on your face said enough.

He chuckled, his hands gripping your ass to keep you in place. “Hold on tight, okay? I got you.” He used the grip on your ass to swing you back and forth, your hips crashing into his crotch, like he was fucking you. Your hold on his neck tightened. A bit of fear he'd drop you was creeping back up into the back of your mind, no matter how much you tried to trample it down.

“I won't drop you, I promise.” He smiled, “If I do, you can take it out on me however you like…. Deal?” That however you like sat with you. You almost wanted him to drop you, just so you could take it out on him. You nodded in agreement and relaxed your body, so that he could do what he wanted. “Plus, I don't plan on flipping you in front of all these people.” You looked at him confused, what was he even saying?

“That should be something done in private.” The next thing you know, your back is pressed against the cold stage and his hips are giving you a barrage of quick fire strokes just to slow it down once again. Now all he needed to do was a few finishing moves to close out the show, then things would come to a close. That would be the end of his time with you. For some reason, that just didn’t sit right with him.

He wanted to at least know your name. He’d tell you his name in return. He didn’t want to leave off with you knowing him as Officer Bang or Bang Chan. He wanted you to meet Chris. He placed your leg on his shoulder, feeling from your ankle down to your thigh. You don't know how but he turned you quickly on your stomach and maneuvered himself back between your legs. Rolling his hips into yours. You had nowhere to run, and truthfully you liked feeling him pressed against you.

You were flustered, face slightly damp with sweat. Chest rising and falling rapidly. Body racing with adrenaline. Loving the feeling of his hips grinding in circles against yours once again, making the heat of lust crawl back up your body once again. Fogging your mind until you couldn’t think of anything else but the way he felt moving against you. The lights dimmed, music faded, your friends roared loudly as they cheered from the crowd. You’d forgotten they were there, mind too gone with the man that was still on top of you, though his routine had ended.

“Come back stage with me?” He asked in your ear, voice hoarse from speaking over the music so you could hear. You nodded, too aroused to actually verbalize an answer. “Was.. was that a yes?” He chuckled lightly as he sat up. He grabbed your hips, helping you to get up from the floor, knowing it'd be pretty hard to do with your hands still cuffed. He stood to his feet before helping you and leading you carefully off stage, hand in hand.

That part was still dark and he didn't want you to take a tumble. You squinted as the darkness turned to light once behind the curtain. He pulled you off to the side, retrieving the key from his pocket. “You did great, by the way.” He kept your hand in his as he tried to unlock your cuffs. “It felt.. natural.” He wouldn't look in your eyes, at least not for long.

“I should be saying that to you, honestly. You're an amazing dancer.” You nodded, but noticed just how shy he got. He was still shakily trying to put the key in the hole, biting down on his bottom lip. “Take your time…” You encouraged him. “I'm sure Imogen still wants to party while a few of the girls.. you know.. partake in the other services offered here.” You didn't know why, but the thought of one of your friends asking to sleep with him bothered you immensely.

“And… What about you? What are your plans… if I ever get you uncuffed?” He was cursing himself out in his mind, how hard was it to take off a cuff? He'd done this many times before. Why was he so nervous?

“I'm down for whatever. I mean, I have to wait for my ride, right?” You chuckled. “Plus I'm sure one of the girls is booking you as we speak. Especially after that performance. I only saw a few of them from my peripherals, but they were beyond impressed. I think you got a standing ovation.” You chuckled half heartedly, the thoughts of him and one of the girls was still swimming around in your head. Leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Ah- yeah, nah. I don't offer those kinds of services. I leave that up to the rest of the guys.” He finally heard the click of the cuff and sighed out of relief. “Fucking.. finally.” He removed them and placed them in his pocket, then grabbed your wrists to message away the little indents left by them. “It doesn't hurt, does it?” His eyes were fully focused on your wrists.

“Not really. Rope burn is far worse, in my opinion.” You shrugged. “The marks will be gone within the hour.”

“Rope Burn- heh. Is it?” God, you were still doing things to his mind. His erection hadn't calmed down yet, either. “Are you.. Ya’know.. into that type of thing?” He could hear his heart in his head, beating loudly.

“I'm into all types of things, Officer Bang.” You teased.

He had to look up to the ceiling to gather himself. The image of you tied in rope, just waiting there for him almost made him cum in his trousers. He cleared his throat, focusing his attention back on you, “Chris. You can call me Chris.”

You smirked, “Chris, huh? Are you expecting me to tell you my name now…. Chris?” It was something in the way you said his name that almost made his knees give out.

“That would be nice. But it's not necessary, not if you don't want to tell me.” He was sweet, you recognized that. He finally let your wrists go, and you immediately missed the contact.

“Lucky for you, I'm feeling generous.” You gave him a soft smile, “I'm Y/n. It's nice to meet you, Chris.” You didn't ask or hesitate, you just took his hand in yours, giving it a shake. But he took you off guard when he pulled you hand to his mouth, giving you a kiss on the back of it.

“Pleasures all mine.” That mischievous glint was back in his eyes as they traveled from your face down to your chest and back up.

“It's not. But it could be.” You don't know who broke first, but you were suddenly engaged in a kiss, your back pressed against the hallway wall that you first met him at. He had you boxed in, a hand on each side of your head. Your hands started at his waist and worked their way up his abs to his pecks.

He needed to feel more of you. Just your lips touching was not even close to being enough to satisfy this growing need he had for you. He pressed his body yours, moving one hand to grip one of your thick thighs, resting it at his waist. You could feel him against your core, the contact igniting something within you.

He moved his kisses from your lips to your neck, taking his precious time with leaving his mark behind. He didn't know who needed to know, but he wanted people to know he'd been there. You moaned as his teeth grazed over the most sensitive spot on your neck. “There, yeah?” He ran his tongue over the bite, just to suck a hickey into the spot.

“Turn around for me.” Letting your leg fall from his side, he took a step back, watching you carefully as you turned to face the wall. Face and chest pressed to the faux brick. “Fuck…” Your dress had ridden up, but not far enough in his humble opinion. He grabbed the fabric and pulled it up over your ass, watching your ass drop-out of the material. The glimpse he'd gotten earlier didn't do you justice, not in the least bit.

He landed a smack to your ass, gripping that same spot before smacking it again. You looked back at him, lust dripping off of your expression. “Don't look at me like that.” He could feel his cheeks flush, his ear burning.

“Like what?” You asked, genuinely curious as to what your expression looked like to him. There was still lust burning in your eyes.

“Like you want me to fuck you. Right here, right now.” He had taken hold of your hips again, his body pressed to yours once more.

“I wouldn't object, if you're asking.” His fingers dug into your hips lightly. He leaned his head on your shoulder and let out an exasperated sigh. He was convinced you were sent to get him to back out of everything he'd once vowed he'd never do again. Maybe Changbin sent you. An agent of chaos.

“You don't seem like the reckless type and that… would be very reckless.” He felt as if he was on the edge of desperation. “You aren't a bad girl, are you?” You whimpered. He hadn't realized you were feeling just as desperate as he was. “You don't want to be a good girl for me? Haven't I earned it?”

He was breaking you down with every word utter from his beautifully plump mouth. “Can't I be both for you?” He nodded against your shoulder.

“Yes, yes you can. Yes, you absolutely can, baby.” His fingers toyed with the lacey waistband of your thong. “As long as I'm offered the same courtesy.” He traced along it until he got to the string sitting snugly between your cheeks. “May I?” He pulled away, just to get another glimpse at your ass.

“Go right ahead.” You by all accounts, were a straight shooter. You usually told it like it was, especially when you'd had a drink or two. But being this bold? With a stranger? Never. This was far from who you usually were. He pulled your panties to the side, taking in the glorious sight before him.

“Fuck…. I've been waiting to see this all night.” He spread your cheeks to get a better view and the visual was almost too much to take in. Your pussy was already ready for him. Your puffy lips were smeared with wetness that had collected throughout the night. He ran his fingers over your lips, shuddering from the warmth of your slickness.

You moaned feeling his skin make contact with yours. It'd been so long since you'd been touched that you'd almost forgotten what it felt like. “I want to tease you so bad…” His voice was breathy, fingers running up and down your slit, “But you're so fucking wet I can barely contain myself. Your pussy is begging me to fuck it.” He slipped a finger in. You were wet, but he could still feel resistance. He groaned. His mind filled with how wet and tight you were.

He added a second, knowing almost immediately that he'd have to stretch your pussy out if he expected to fit. If he even made it that far. You clenched around his two digits as he slid into your wetness. You bit down on your bottom lip, to stifle the moan that was rising in your throat. He gave you no time to adjust, his fingers pleasantly grazing against your walls, in and out. Your eyes fluttered shut, you were numb to any of your surroundings that weren't him

He twisted his fingers, palm now facing down, the eye of a snarling wolf on his hand now watching your back. He was intoxicated by the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of you. Imagination running wild with the thoughts of what it would feel like to be deep inside of you. To feel your tightness squeezing his length, wetness coating it. To see just how your fat little cunt swallowed him.

He needed to add a third, for his sanity. Just as he slipped that third finger in, people rounded the corner. He stuffed them inside of you, covering your mouth with a kiss as he shielded your lower half with his own. You couldn't even comprehend how indecent this was. Your mind is completely consumed with lust.

“Oh- didn't mean to interrupt.” Allana giggled, hands wrapped tightly around Changbin's arm. Changbin gave his friend a knowing look, a smirk dancing across his lips.

“The lounge is free. All the guys booked tonight.” He smiled, patting his shoulder before toting off his client for the night.

“We can't stay here.” Chris spoke lowly into your ear. “Come with me, yeah?” He pulled his fingers from your grip and couldn't stop himself from getting a taste. The way your wetness coated his fingers like the sweetest drips of ice cream from a melting cone, he truly couldn't resist.

He indulged in sweetness while you adjusted your dress, pulling it down to make you look presentable once again. He was still licking his fingers even after you were done. Needing more than just a taste, he grabbed your hand and tugged you gently along to the lounge. It was a shared space, but with his dressing room being too small and him not having a designated room anymore, the lounge would have to do.

Chris made sure to lock the door. “I don't know how much time we ha-” He was stopped mid-sentence by your lips on his. You pulled him by the belt loops on his pants to the plush white sofa in the middle of the room. Pushing him down on it, you quickly straddled his lap and wrapped your arms around him, resuming the kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, mingling with the lingering minty freshness.

Everything was telling him to be a gentleman, to be responsible. To find out how you'd get home if your friends left. He'd gladly take you, but he knew how it would look if he knew your address. Most people wouldn't be comfortable with that, he understood. “Get out of your head.” You spoke against his lips. You could tell he was thinking? That it had nothing to do with the nasty things his other head had been thinking for hours now? “Hey.” Pulling away from the kiss, you grabbed his face, making him look at you. “Whatever it is, worry about it later. I feel like I’ve been edged all night and I really need to be fucked stupid. Okay?”

He chuckled, “Okay.” Your little not so peppy-talk seemed to do it for him. Any and all thoughts not pertaining to this moment he was sharing with you were now out of the window. He needed to see you in all your glory, and thought he appreciated the way that dress fit you, he would much rather see it on the floor. He slipped the straps off your arms, fingers gently trailing down your skin, leaving little goosebumps in its wake. You let it fall, pulling your arms out. Next to go was your strapless bra, expert fingers quickly rid you of the garment, tossing it somewhere in the vicinity. “You’re perfect.” His thumbs traced over your collarbones, before his fingers joined in over your chest and down to your breast.

“Hardly. But I know how to take a compliment.” You joked, “Thank you.” He touched you like he was trying his best to savor the moment, not wanting it to end. He shook his head, cupping your breast, feeling the weight of them.

“You look perfect to me.” You just hummed, not wanting to argue him down about it. It wasn't worth it and you wanted to stay in the moment. He kissed your sternum, “Get up for me for a second.” You were taken off guard, but you moved off his lap and stood up. He laid down flat on the sofa and beckoned you over with his finger. “Sit on my face. I want to taste you.” It took a second for your brain to catch up with his words.

“Look, just because you might be capable of flipping me does not mean I wouldn't suffocate you-” He groaned, interrupting you.

“I didn't ask. Just come sit on my fucking face.” Your eyes went wide, not expecting him to talk to you like that. But you would be the first to admit it kind of turned you on. You moved with haste, kneeling next to his head before straddling his face. “Good girl.” You were beginning to really like the sound of him calling you that.

You steadied yourself with your hands on his chest, careful not to put all your weight on him, keeping most of it on your knees. Chris grew impatient the way you were hovering over him, after pulling your panties to the side once again, he roughly grabbed your hips pulling you down on top of him. His face made the perfect seat for you, enveloped between your cheeks, nose and mouth slotted between your lower lips. His tongue immediately went to work, making you squirm on top of him.

You bit back your moans, even with the other guys being otherwise occupied, you didn’t want to risk being too loud. A hard smack landed on your ass, making you jump and squeeze your thighs around his head. Deft hands spread your cheek; that gave him a little more room to move between the thickness of your ass and pussy lips. Not wanting to be the only one to receive pleasure, you leaned forward, sliding a hand into his pants. You gripped his member with one hand and pushed his boxers under his balls with the other.

You gasped at the sight of his thick cock; mouth immediately salivating. He slid his thumb into your cunt, making your grip on him tighten. He groaned against your clit, stopping for a second just to commence his torture of your pussy. But two could play that game, right? You went to work, testing out the waters first. Seeing just how much of his big cock you could take. You spit on it, letting it dribble down his length. “Good girl.” He spoke between your folds.

Making sure his member was completely wet, you gripped the shaft with two hands and took him back in your mouth. Your mouth and hands moving simultaneously on his dick made him sigh with pleasure. It'd been a while since he'd been touched by anyone besides himself and he needed the relief more than you knew. Your mouth was the perfect amount of wet and the way you slurped was the perfect amount of nasty. He replaced his thumb with his index and middle fingers, going slow at first before quickening his pace to match yours.

Wet noises replaced the background club noise that filled the room earlier. Chris loved the way you tasted on his tongue but he needed to get his dick wet with more than saliva. With a hard smack to your ass, he spoke up, “Turn around for me.” He had figured out that in order to get his point across with you he needed to be assertive. He was normally polite, but politeness could wait for later. “I need to be inside of you.”

You were so needy you didn’t even think twice about his request. You let his cock go with some resistance, a small pop resounding through the room as you pulled him from your mouth. You must have been moving a little too slow for his liking, because the next thing you knew, you were flipped over onto your back, legs spread but also close to your chest as his cock slid between your folds. “I don’t mean to be impatient…” He paused, groaning as the back of his tip brushed over your clit, sending chills through his body. You were beyond wet, more especially now that he’d added his saliva to the mix. “I need you.”

You could feel the heat travel from the center of your chest, up your neck, to your face. His words felt genuine, even under the circumstances. He leaned in, kissing your lips, distracting you from him lining himself up with your entrance. The kiss was intoxicating. Enough so that it made your hip buck up into his, the tip of his cock consequently sliding into you. Your breath hitched, eyes rolling back at the unexpected stretch. “Patience is a virtue, beautiful.” He chuckled darkly. Was this the same man who couldn’t even give you time to flip around yourself? He was now telling you that patience was indeed a virtue, but it was clearly something neither of you had. “Fuck you feel so good..” He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since he flipped you over, and honestly, he didn’t know if he would be able to. You were gorgeous to him. Every single last inch. The wet sound of his hips harshly slamming into your filled the room, tuning out the muffled club music.

The way he was filling you up, stretching your walls deliciously, was absolutely mind boggling. He felt so good inside of you that you almost didn’t know what was up or down. Your nails dug into his forearms. Your jaw was slack, eyes threatening to close. “Fuck…. Yes.. there…” He had readjusted his hips, digging his knees into the couch, pushing your legs towards your armpits. You’d never been stretched like this, and you meant that in more than one way. He focused his eyes on the mess that was accumulating between the two of you. Your wetness was accompanied by your cream, his cock was dripping with your essence. The sound, the sight, the smell, the taste, everything was getting to him. You moaned loud, eyes glossed over, unable to hide your feelings from him anymore.

Your eyes were just as dark as his, both of you caught in the torrent of ecstasy. He leaned in, pecked at your lips, then your jaw, over your neck and chest, to your breast , draggin his tongue across the flesh before haphazardly sucking the pebbled bud into his mouth. Your hands flew to his hair. Fingers tugging on the sweat slicked curls at his nape. He moaned and that sent you barreling towards orgasm. You spread your legs wider, begging to feel more of him. He picked up his speed, his wet mouth dragging across your chest to give your other tit the same treatment. His ability to multitask was truly astounding.

Normally you’d put in some type of effort, hell-bent on not being some random man's pillow princess, but the way this man was putting in work all you could do was lie there and take it. You squeezed your already tight walls around him, making his hips stutter. “Don’t play games you know you won’t win.” He spoke gruffly, lips still pressed to your feverish skin. “Quit while you're ahead, baby.” That felt like a challenge. Part of you wanted to know just what he planned to do if you didn’t ‘quit while you were ahead’. So you tested it.

Every drag out of your cunt earned a clench. The first time he let it go, but the second time caused him to groan, eyes rolling into the back of his head. “You’re fucking killing me…” He grumbled, doing a few shallow and quick thrusts just to throw you off. He pulled out completely, tapping his slick riddled cock against your clit. A tiny drizzle of cum shooting from his tip and landing on your already messy pussy. “Look at how wet you have my dick. You even have me cumming a little already… fuck… you're perfect” He bit down on his swollen bottom lip, teasing you with just the tip of his dick. He enjoyed the way your cunt looked wrapped around him. You tried to wrap your legs around him, groaning when he caught on, pushing your legs back towards your chest.

“Nuh-huh, you think after all of that I’ll let that pretty pussy of yours get what it wants?” The sinister look he gave you as his lips curled into a smile would have been terrifying if it didn’t turn you on. “Not a chance, sweetheart.” He laughed innocently as if he didn’t just stuff you full of cock moments ago. “You’ll be lucky if I let you come.” He smirked, sitting back on his legs, he grabbed at your hips, swiftly turning you around. You didn’t even get a chance to protest. It happened faster than your mind could process. A few throw pillows were stuffed up under your stomach, successfully elevating your hips. “Fuck… would you look at that?”

You didn’t even know him well, but you could tell he was pleased with himself. He smacked both your cheeks before spreading them wide. Wild thoughts were running through his mind at the sight. He spit on your pussy before using his tongue to lap up all of the cream that was spread over it, your asshole, and your thighs. A man starved. That's what he ate like. It was your turn for your eyes to roll back, you gripped at the armrest, pushing your hips further into his face. Those plush lips in combination with that thick tongue? Heavenly. You could feel the coil in the bottom of your belly twist up and just as it was about to snap, hell pulled away with a soft chuckle.

You whined. You needed that release. “My turn…” You don't know what exactly came over him, but it was like he snapped. He slid back into your wanton cunt, causing your pussy to queef from suddenly being filled to the brim. You squealed, not used to your body making that sound. He placed his hand over the lower part of your back, just above your butt, pressing down to make you arch for him. And that's when all hell broke loose. This man had to be the spawn of the devil with the way he was after your soul. He was desperately trying to snatch your life force right out of your body with every deep thrust he gave you. Your walls fluttered around him, he moved his hands to your hips, nails digging into your skin as a way to ground himself. He was muttering things to himself, it honestly sounded like a bunch of gibberish to you. But then again, it was hard to concentrate on anything other than how hard he felt inside of you. “Fuck… this pussy is so good.” He groaned, pressing his hips flush against yours, hitting the deepest spot inside of you.

Your toes curled, vision turning white from the sensation. You didn’t even realize you were cumming until he pulled all the way out. “Please… please put it back in.” You begged, hole begging to be filled again, even though you just came. He obliged. He wanted to get off just as you had, but this time he wasn’t out for revenge, he slowly entered you, letting you feel every inch and vein. It had been a while since you last had some, and then it wasn’t much to write home about. This? Him? You’d shout it from the rooftops if you had to, this man’s dick game was impeccable. You moaned and writhed under him. He trached a hand up your sweat slick back, grabbing ahold of your neck and pulling you up and back towards him. His other arm wrapped around your tummy as he drug his lips over your shoulder, speaking a melange of your name and several curse words. He was in heaven. His heart pounded hard against his chest, any sounds but the ones that reverberated off the walls in this room were a non factor to him. He was here, at this moment, with the beautiful woman he spotted out in the crowd.

You hoped there was a hidden camera in this room that could pinpoint your time of death, because you could have sworn you ascended. Your tongue was hanging out of your mouth, eyes slightly closed, a severely fucked out expression on your face. You were dripping wet, walls still quivering around him, and he loved every bit of it. “You’re so fucking good, baby… so tight.. Wet… fuck..” His voice progressively got whinier, his end was near. His hand moved from the back of your neck to the front, squeezing lightly. His conclusion was right on the tip of his tongue, the words begging to fall from his lips. His hips stuttered, his arm around your middle pulling you impossibly close. He gave a few sharp thrusts, “Fuck- baby, I-I’m gonna come… I’m gonna..” He cried out, once against pushing his pelvis completely against yours as he spilled his seed inside of your begging cunt. You moaned, the feeling of his warm cum painting your walls was enough to make them quiver again, threatening to overstimulate him. “Fuck, baby.. Too tight..” He spoke, while thrusting his cum deeper into your cunt. It took a spell of labored breaths and soft whimpers before he came down enough to pull his softening cock from inside of you. If he let you go right now you were sure you would fall face first into the cushions of this couch.

You were blissed and fucked out, a crooked smile set on your face. He laid you down gently, watching your cunt to see if any of his seed dripped out, to see if he indeed fucked it deep enough. He smirked to himself when the only proof that he came inside of you was the small snail trail he broke when he pulled out. The room was silent for a while, the sound of the muted club music was no longer drowned out by the sound of sex. You’d close your eyes, honestly ready to knock out for the next couple hours if he let you. He on the other hand had his eyes focused right on your pussy, still wet from the night's events. “My gosh… you are a dangerous, dangerous woman.” His dick twitched when you pulled your knees together to get a little more comfortable. He sighed, this just wouldn’t do. “I don’t usually do this… but.. I honestly don’t think I’m done with you for the night.” His words caused you to quickly open your eyes and turn around. Your eyes traveled from his face to check if he was serious, down to his semi-hard dick. “Would you mind… coming back to my place for.. Round two… or three?”

Your eyes were wide. There was no way this man was serious. “Only if you are down. If not, we can hit the showers and I can escort you back to you-” You stopped him with a sensual kiss.

“Yes.” You spoke against his lips. Maybe being a bridesmaid paid off this time.

FIN

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musicinherhead · 2 years ago

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This just makes all the sense in the world

Imogen just used a third level spell slot to not risk failing on her ass in front of Laudna

#critical role spoilers #imodna #Imogen cannot risk being a wet cat #again #falling down the stairs is bad enough #PSA: cast fly to avoid tumbling from roofs #Imogen must remain very capable in front of her supportive goth gf

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quietstormxr · 8 months ago

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You'll Survive

Garrick Tavis x Reader

Angst/Violence

Again breaking my heart here, just Garrick this time, as requested.

Summary: Garrick leaves for War Games and you are determined to forget him.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/n: Mentions of Tourture/some swearing, some Iron Flames spoilers

Should we have our angry bad ass girl give Garrick an ass kicking in a part 2?

Part 2

The anger turned in to absolute despair. How could things have gotten so bad? The last words you exchanged with him were in anger and now you’d never be able to take them back. You’d never know if you really meant anything to him or not. At the same time, you couldn’t decide if you cared or not.

The anger that rotted in your core the entire time you were away was rooted farther than anything you’d ever felt before. He wouldn’t fight for you to join him, but there was Imogen, looking at you with a smug look on her face. You couldn’t help the way your face hardened, and a steely glare settled across your features.

You had seen the way she looked at him when you weren’t around and knew there had to be something there. Whether or not he still felt something, you were unsure. But the minute he turned his back to you and walked towards Imogen for War Games, you felt there was more there than he ever led on.

You thought back to the last words that you exchanged and couldn’t help the regret that filled every part of your body.

“So that’s it, huh?” You breathe as Garrick walks towards you. “You won’t even try to convince Xaden to take me?”

“You’re a first year, there’s no reason for you to be with the Wingleader’s headquarters squad.” He said back a calm determination on his face.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Especially given the fact that he’s taking two other first years.” You snapped back viciously.

“You’re to go with the rest of your squad. You’ll survive without me for a few days.” He says nonchalantly.

After that statement, you couldn’t control the raging inferno that coated your veins and made a home in your stomach. Hot and corrosive, you couldn’t help the way you wanted to punch him straight in the face.

“I see.” You say as you look past Garrick at Imogen still smirking at you smugly. “Well, I hope you enjoy your trip with your girl, because it certainly isn’t me.” You spit as you turn sharply and mount your dragon.

‘Let’s go Diomat.’ You demand as you refuse to look back down at the infuriating man before you.

‘With pleasure, Bold One.’ Diomat confirms and immediately lifts into the air, but not before issuing a warning growl to your Section Leader.

You refuse to look back and see what emotion Garrick could possibly have on his face. Was he even hurt at what you said or was he smirking that you would ever dare to think he’d want you?

You fly for Eltuval and let the cold wind try to cool the flames that seem to lick underneath your skin. You refuse to let that man be the reason you lose your focus. You let the anger simmer in the hours it takes for you to get to your outpost.

As soon as you feel Diomat begin her descent, you take a deep breath closing your eyes and try to let the anger filter out of your body. You walk forward to the outpost and listen to the directions of your squad leader and senior leadership.

Everything seemed to be going according to leaderships plan, until you find yourself slightly farther from the outpost than you anticipated. You’re unsure why, but you were sent to the northwestern most part of region your squad was to be patrolling. You hear a roar that sounds like a dragon and you turn in your seat and look, only to see what appears to be a grey dragon.

You furrow your brow in confusion as you notice it only has two legs and then watch as it spits blue fire.

‘Diomat, is there another dragon breed we aren’t taught about?’ You ask with fear starting to lace your mental voice.

‘That is no dragon.’ Diomat replies fiercely.

‘Well, are you going to tell me what it is if it isn’t a dragon?’

‘I believe your leadership may have forced us into a situation we weren’t expecting.’ Diomat snarls. ‘Those abominations are wyvern. I believe you know the stories about them and their creators.’

Your eyes widen and dart between your dragon and the grey wyvern that is flying into the neighboring Poromish town.

‘Wh-Wha-What?’ Even your thoughts begin to stammer as you try to puzzle the pieces together. ‘Why would they send us out here if they knew about this? What are we supposed to do Diomat?’

Your thoughs are a jumble and you can’t seem to process anything. Within the few seconds that were spent hovering in the air to examine the creature, it has now set its sights on you.

“SHIT!” You say as the large grey mass starts barreling towards you at untenable speeds.

‘Hold on.’ Diomat commands as she begins climbing above the cover of the trees.

‘Is there a way to kill this thing?’ You question in a panic, hoping beyond hope that there’s a solution to this.

‘Do you still have the dagger the Section Leader gave to you?’

You furrow your brows while you pull the runed dagger from the sheath at your calf. You pull it out and your eyes blow wide. Where there was just a normal dagger before, now the hilt is glowing a soft blue color and you can feel the magic thrum through your fingers.

‘This can kill them?’

‘Yes, do you remember what venin look like? Can you transform into what you remember from the descriptions of your book? If so, you may be able to drop down and kill it.’ Diomat explains as we continue to dip, dive, and weave through heavy tree coverage.

‘You want me to get on the back of the wyvern?!?’ You ask incredulously at the plan your dragon has just drawn in your mind.

‘Yes, because you are more than capable of doing this. You are a powerful rider. My rider. And I know that you can do this.’ Diomat says with a tone of absolute conviction.

If only your mind was as certain in your abilities as Diomat’s mind is.

‘You will need to aim for the chest that should be the weakest part.’ Diomat confirms before you notice her slowing down.

You turn your head and watch as blue flames continue to blow directly behind your dragon gaining on you second by second. Diomat begins to dip down even further while you begin to float through the memories of the stories of the venin.

You remember the billowing robes, the red veins, the color of their eyes reflecting their bloodlust for power and finally the veins that mar their tarnished skin. You settle on a full picture in the art gallery in your mind and take a deep breath reaching for Diomat’s power. When you look down at yourself next, your clothes are no longer riding leathers, but a purple robe that looks tattered and moth eaten. You continue to look down at your hands and can’t help the panic that flares to life in your chest when you see the red veins coating every inch of your fingers.

‘You are still you, Bold One. I would not let you tarnish yourself.’ Diomat consoles as you feel pride radiating from your bond.

‘Okay, Diomat. Let’s take down this thing.’ You think back closing away all the insecurities plaguing your mind.

Soon enough Diomat is slowing down but lifting you both to the clouds. As you burst through the tree line, you watch as the wyvern continues flying towards where it thought you still were. Slowly you begin to descend and rise from the seat of your dragon and walk towards her front left leg.

‘This is why I have not been going easy on you, Bold One. I will not leave my rider unprepared, even if the Section Leader wanted to keep this from you.’

As Diomat begins to descend, you look up to the sky and pray to Zinhal that this plan will work. After that one thought, you close your eyes for just a second and let yourself free fall.

You land with a smack onto a rough grey surface, and you lock every muscle in your body tight.

Is this why Garrick was always disappearing for hours on end?

You shake your head trying to waft off any other thoughts of the Section Leader when you are trying to kill the beast below you. You cautiously make your way up to the neck scales, until you look up and realize, those aren’t scales, they are feather razors.

You crouch down next to the neck and plunge the dagger you have down as hard as you possibly can. Not expecting the bounce back, you end up being bucked against the razor mane on the neck of the wyvern as the beast bucks and writhes trying to dislodge your dagger.

You pull yourself forward and wrap both hands around the blade and jump in front of its wing.

‘Catch me Diomat.’ You think as you feel yourself falling while your dagger peels through the rough skin of the wyvern.

Your dagger finally breaks free, and you are free falling towards the line of trees.

‘DIOMAT!’

‘Coming, Bold One!’ You hear Diomat’s voice break causing you to let fear take over as you fall faster and faster.

Your pull on your power lessens and you watch as the robes become your leathers again. You try to bring your leg up and sheath the dagger back at your calf. The next thing you feel is your head hitting branches and your vision swims momentarily. You feel your emotions tugging at you that this is the end, and you will meet Malek today.

‘No, you are destined for great things, Y/N. You will not die today.’ Diomat says authoritatively.

As if on command at that statement, you finally feel yourself crash into bumpy scales. It takes all the effort you can muster to grab for Diomat’s pommel to stop your own acceleration. You can feel your arms protesting the amount of strength it’s taking to say on while your back screams from the lashes of the wyverns razored feathers.

Diomat continues to try and stop both your acceleration and keep pace back towards the outpost. You grunt in response to the effort and try to pull yourself back into the seat. Everything in your body is telling you to give in to the sweet call of sleep, but you know you need to wait until you get back to the outpost.

As you fly closer to Eltuval, you can’t help but feel like something is wrong. You look around at the field where your squad’s dragons had been landing the last four days and see them all gone.

‘Where did the squad go?’

‘Nokass just confirmed that all Basgiath squads have headed back to the Citadel.’

At that you perk up and your body goes rigid. Did they set you up and leave you to die? Didn’t anyone else see what had happened?

‘Did Nokass give us any orders?’

‘We are to land and debrief with the cadre here. Besides Bold One, you need to have your wounds tended to.’ Diomat says with a hint of trepidation in her voice.

‘Should I tell them about the wyvern?’

‘No. Tell them you fell off when we were accelerating while practicing flight maneuvers.’

You send your understanding back through the bond and dismount Diomat. You don’t make it far before you are escorted by two lieutenants that met you at the flight field. You enter the infirmary there and lay down.

Soon enough your wounds are tended to, and the mender confirms you need to rest. You fall into a fitful sleep that focuses on wyvern, venin, and a certain dark-haired Section Leader that seems to have been keeping more from you than you ever realized.

You wake in a sweat and look around confused before realizing where you are. It’s another two days before you are given clearance to leave, which luckily the senior cadre of the outpost seemed to have bought the story that Diomat told you to spin.

You are given orders to return to Basgiath and a note confirming the reason for your absence.

Hours later, you are flying on Diomat with the wind battering your new scars and broken thoughts. How much had he been hiding from you this entire time? What did he really know? Were you just a little plaything for him?

As you watch the sun rise, you set your jaw and take a deep breath. You know at this point there is no need in worrying. Graduation is done, and he has most likely been sent to his outpost. You try to let yourself settle at the realization that you’ll never see him again.

When you land in the flight field, you are surprised to see a green dragon seemingly just returning from a flight with their rider. You look over and realize who it is.

Bodhi.

As you draw closer with Diomat, you watch as he turns his head and looks back before whipping it back around with wide surprised eyes.

‘Apparently there was miscommunication. Your squad and the Section Leader were told your name was reported for the death rolls.’ Diomat relays with irritation.

Your eyebrows fly up and eyes widen in surprise. Did none of Basgiath cadre know that you’d been in the infirmary at Eltuval? Why would you have been reported for the death rolls before confirmation would’ve been sent from the outpost?

You clutch harder to the orders that you were given as you dismount. You trip forward slightly as your blood rushes back into your legs, your body protesting every movement as everything is still tight from your body needing additional recovery. You slowly stand to your feet and as you look up you are met by surprised brown eyes.

“Wha – How?” You watch as Bodhi sputters. “We were told you were dead. Your name was to be read on the death rolls tomorrow.”

You look at him with a dead panned expression and say in a flat voice. “Well obviously someone got their information wrong.”

You go to turn and walk away, ready to dispel the myths about your apparent demise before you feel Bodhi’s hand on your elbow.

“You need to write to Garrick. He’s an absolute mess.” He says and you can see the sorrow reflected in his gaze for his brother.

“I don’t need to do anything.” You say back coldly, the lies and the way he didn’t fight for you taking forefront in your mind.

“And you won’t be telling him either.” You warn. “He made his choices. Those things don’t change just because I happen to be alive.”

You watch as a grimace crosses Bodhi’s face clearly remembering the way that you departed for War Games.

“Besides,” you whisper as you step into Bodhi’s space bringing your mouth to his ear. “I was too busy fighting off and killing a wyvern to worry about writing.”

You relish the way Bodhi’s eyes flash with realization that not only did Garrick leave you behind, but you also now know what he was trying to keep hidden.

“How about this.” You pull back and add with a challenging tone. “How about you and the rest of your marked friends keep my secret and I’ll keep yours? Hmm.”

You watch as Bodhi seems to weigh his options before nodding in defeat, his head falling forward.

“Good. Pleasure doing business with you Durran.” You purr venomously.

You fully turn now and walk purposefully towards the Commandant’s office looking to clear yourself. You will not let Garrick’s feelings over your supposed death completely erase the way he left you behind and apparently never trusted you in the first place.

As you stride through the halls of the Rider’s Quadrant, you begin to relish the looks of shock from everyone around you. You briefly wonder if you’re the only person who was seemingly resurrected after War Games, but the thought is fleeting when you feel a body run straight into you, tearing the breath out of you.

“Gods. How are you alive? Where have you been?” You look up to realize that you’ve been engulfed in a hug by your best friend and squad mate and crack the first smile you’ve had in days.

“Let’s just say the front gave Diomat and I some personal surprises on our patrol. Ones that landed me in Eltuval’s Infirmary for two days after you all left.” You say while trying to evade the full answer to the question.

“I knew it wouldn’t be that easy to kill you.” His answer causes a laugh to bubble out of you involuntarily.

“Come on, I have to go deliver this to Pancheck before everyone really thinks I’m dead.” You pull him along and head towards the Commandant’s headquarters.

Weeks pass and you get back to normal or whatever can possibly pass as your new normal. You can’t help the way you notice those that were in Resson are being targeted for what you assume is the same knowledge you now have. However, for whatever reason the cadre seems to have bought your story, at least for now.

You’ve also been avoiding the dirty looks Imogen gives you any time you happen to be in the same room. Why the hell can’t she just leave you alone? She got what she wanted, so you can’t understand what her issue is. Though luckily for you, your deal with Bodhi makes sure you don’t have to worry about her little obsession worrying over you.

You’ve avoided Violet like the absolute plague ever since returning and was lucky enough to be shuffled into a squad with no marked ones after the disaster that was parapet.

You’ve heard people talking about Riorson coming back to Basgiath, but you’ve so far been lucky to avoid him. Until one day in the rotunda you’re walking to your next class and you’re unfortunate enough to see him standing not far away talking to Bodhi.

You watch as he looks up and directly at you and then whip his heads around again towards you before blinking several times and rubbing his eyes. Fortunately for you, practicing with your signet has you ready for this unfortunate meeting. As soon as you see him, you immediately change your hair and eye color, along with angling out your features more.

You look towards your squad mate to your right and smirk as his features slacken slightly at your change in appearance.

“Stop gawking or Riorson is going to get suspicious.” You tell him lowly.

He shakes his head and moves his eyes to back in front of you. You both continue to walk on your way to your next class and enter the door taking a seat.

“Since when can you do that?” He asks now looking at you with open fascination.

“Since about right before we left for War Games last year. Diomat and I practiced while everyone else was too busy getting drunk before the Reunification Day party. Just haven’t had the reason to show off my skills.” You recount.

“I can change pretty much my entire appearance.” You relay as you begin to smirk again and completely transform yourself into looking like your friend in front of you.

“Well godsdamn. I look absolutely fabulous.” He quips.

With that you break down and start laughing uncontrollably. With that loss of fine control, you morph back into your own form. You watch as suddenly his face turns serious.

“Have you really not written or heard from Tavis?” He asks a hint of trepidation at the topic hitting his voice.

“No.” You sigh before replying. “I convinced Durran that he had to keep the secret of my existence to himself and the rest of his marked friends here in exchange for a favor to them as well. So, my secret is safe with me, which is why I didn’t want Riorson to see me. He’s unaware of his cousin’s deal.”

Your friend shakes his head in comprehension and you both face forward as the professor comes into the class.

Weeks continue to fly by in a whir of classes and idiotic RSC challenges. At this point, you don’t even know what the class is even worth. They aren’t truly giving anyone the whole story and battle brief continues to be a joke.

You have started training with Diomat after classes hoping to get better at flight maneuvers so that you’re truly prepared for the upcoming war. It’s after a grueling training session with her that you are taken by surprise while walking back to your room.

Before you can react to protect yourself, you feel something blunt slam into the back of your head and your vision swims before you fall to a heap on the ground.

As you slowly wake up, you can’t seem to stop the incessant pounding in your head. Your head rolls back and forth as you try to shake off the haze. When your eyes open, you are met with a dirt ceiling that looks like it has been carved in the underground.

You try to move your arms and feel the sharp bite of iron around your wrists and biceps. You sit up straight just to find yourself strapped to a wooden chair. You shake your head again and look around searching for your squad mates like you would normally find for the special torture that is RSC.

Unfortunately for you, there isn’t anyone else here. You hear footsteps from outside the door and draw in a quick breath stealing yourself for whatever horror is coming your way.

As the door opens you smell the sour stench of body odor and hair oil that permeates the air. As you take in the man before you confusion knits your brow.

Why would Varrish be here? You hadn’t done anything to draw attention to yourself since returning from War Games. Did Bodhi or one of the marked ones sell you out?

You have little more time to think about what is happening before you feel a hand connect with your cheek. You let out a grunt as your head whips to the side and pain bursts across your mouth.

“Seems fitting after all of your lies to be sitting in this chair, doesn’t it?” He croons as he slowly walks around the chair you are strapped to.

“I don’t know what lies you speak of Vice Commandant.” You spit. The last thing you will do is break to this disgusting husk of a man.

“Oh, I believe you do.” He sneers. “You and Sorrengail will be instrumental in getting Riorson and Tavis to spill everything they know.”

You can’t help the sarcastic huff that leaves you. The bitter taste of anger and betrayal still whirring inside you.

“You’ll find that you are wrong about Tavis.” You protest vehemently. “His affections lie elsewhere. You are wasting your time with me.”

A sickening sneer of a smile crosses Varrish’s face and you know that nothing you will say will change his mind.

“Oh, I’m aware he may think you’re dead. But that doesn’t mean when he arrives you won’t be bait for him.” He whispers as he leans in close where the stench of him is almost enough to make you sick.

He then rears back, and head butts you in the face and you hear a sickening crunch before the blood starts pouring from your nose. You try to hold in your scream, but it’s no use. You know he won’t stop until he gets what he wants from you.

“Just give me some information and you can have your connection to your dragon back and you can go back to class, no one the wiser.”

You lift your chin in defiance at the vile man in front of you and let the blood from your broken nose into your mouth before spitting it right in his face. There’s no doubt in your mind that you will not risk your dragon or anyone else’s life to save your own.

It takes a few hours before you realize that this torture will be never ending. Immediately after you think he is finished; he calls in Nolon to mend your body multiple times a day.

“Is it really worth keeping their secrets?” Nolon asks a note of sympathy and regret in his eyes as he mends your broken collarbone.

“I will give my life for anyone’s. Secrets or no.” You spit at the man you had once seen as a kind and gentle soul.

Nolon shakes his head and continues his work as you try to push away the pain of mending and focus on anything else.

It’s about the eighth time that Nolon has come in to mend you before you start to feel like giving up may be the only option.

“Can’t you just let me die already?” You viciously call back to the man healing you just so you can be broken again.

“I’m sorry cadet, but this can all stop when you answer the Vice Commandant’s questions.”

You turn your head away from him, not wanting to give him any more attention and let your body slip into unconsciousness.

What seems like eternities later, you hear commotion outside the door that you’ve been holed up in. As you fade in and out from pain, you hear voices but you’re unsure of who they belong to. A strong crack in the rocks of the cell makes you jolt conscious, but you’re still unsure of what’s going on.

“Wait.” You hear a male voice call. “Vi wasn’t the only one down here.”

“What are you talking about Aetos?” You hear a gruff voice call back. Your foggy mind wants to say it’s Garrick, but you know that must be impossible.

The next thing you know, the lock of the door is clicking open, and you turn your head to see what your next form of torture will be.

As you look up, you meet warm brown eyes that shine with concern.

“I didn’t realize you gave a damn about anyone but Violet, Aetos.” You rasp back, your voice disjointed from the amount of screaming you’d done and the number of times you’d been almost choked to death.

“Luckily for you I knew that they took someone besides just Violet.” He says rushing to the chair. “Do you think you’ll be able to stand?”

You try and shrug your shoulders, but everything in your body seems to weigh ten times the amount it normally does. Aetos continues to unhook the restraints around your body and soon enough is trying to help lift you.

Your broken tibia screams in protest, but the action of moving on your own two feet is not something you’re willing to give up. As you slowly make your way out of the cell, you both turn and look up. Staring back at you are a pair of stunned hazel eyes.

You watch as Garrick’s eyes widen to the point of concern, and he falls to his knees seeming to not believe what he’s seeing. As you stare at him, you watch as tears begin to swim in his eyes. The anger and helplessness you’ve been feeling curls around you and you close your eyes in anguish.

“You were right.” You rasp slowly with a thoughtful pause.

“I guess I did survive.” You say before your overwhelming feelings and pain draws you under.

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing x reader #garrick tavis #xaden riorson #bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing xaden #the empyrean #the empyrean fanfic #garrick fourth wing #bodhi fourth wing #fourth wing #fourth wing fic #iron flame #iron flame fanfic

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slytherin-pen · 4 months ago

Text

The Secret

pairing: Xaden x Reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: ONXY STORM SPOILERS, DO NOT READ FUTHER

a/n: ok so during my reread ahead of OS i caught some foreshadowing whenever Xaden talked about family but specifically when Violet asked if he had any siblings. idk it just rang bells in my head, i honestly thought he would have a secret sibling but then we saw what actually happened..i’m still proud of myself like i caught that shit! anyways, here’s me giving my theory some life. also, happy day 5 of Xaden Week! @empyreanevents

“Xaden what is going on?” you ask as you jog to catch up to his long strides.

He’s been acting weird all day. Being short with you, not kissing you, and seemingly avoiding any physical affection since you and your squad arrived at Riorson House for your two-week rotation.

It was your first rotation in Aretia from Basgiath since leadership came to an agreement of sorts to both protect Navarre and the provinces outside of the wards. You had been excited, Rhiannan and Ridoc teased you constantly during the days leading up to it. It would be the first time you got to spend more than a day there while conscious. When Xaden brought you here after you’d been stabbed by a venin during War Games, you slept most of the time and once you were awake you all rushed out the door back to Navarre for Garrick and Xaden’s graduation.

Now that you think of it, Garrick, Bodhi, and Imogen have been acting weird since you arrived too. You had even asked Rhiannon if you smelt bad—worse than the usual smell you have after being on dragon back for hours—but she said no. Your confusion had only amplified.

An insecure part of you thought that he was about to break up with you. It’s the only explanation you could come up with. His friends are avoiding you. He’s avoiding you. Why else if not for knowing that the moment you arrived after not seeing him for weeks, he was going to end things? It angered you. Sure, they’re his friends, but you thought they were yours too. That you at least had some form of girl code with Imogen, and if she knew your heart was about to be broken she’d warn you. But you also knew their loyalty to him came above all else. That if he asked them not to say anything to you, they would listen.

You lunge, gripping his wrist and he finally stops to face you. “Can you answer me?” you snap. “What the hell is going on?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose as he exhales slowly. “I—just follow me.”

When all you do is glare at him in response, he sighs again. “Please?”

You drop his wrist but put more distance between him as you walk down the halls of Riorson House. If this is really how he breaks up with you, you’re going to be livid. Two years together and this is how it ends? This is how he treats you? You’ll stab him. And then when you’re done stabbing him, you’re going to stab his friends too. You get it. Kinda. He’s officially the Duke of Tyrrendor—or at least has the title back. He has a lot of responsibilities on his shoulders, on top of everything he already has. It’s a lot, and it doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for him to be your boyfriend. But you didn’t mind. Now, you want to kick yourself for sitting around like a lost puppy waiting for him to throw you scraps.

He unlocks a set of double doors with a flick of his wrist and motions for you to enter the room. Your boots scuff along the cobblestone floors as you hesitantly walk inside. The room is bare aside from a square wooden table and three chairs. The lack of dust on the table tells you it had been moved in here last minute for this very occasion. You nearly scoffed. You were definitely going to stab him after this.

Xaden clears his throat. “Just—uh—sit down and I’ll be right back.”

You don’t even get to send him a withering glare before he’s out the door again, shutting it behind him.

You stomp to the chair on its own side, across from the side with the two other chairs, and plop down. Your knee bounces with anticipation. You can tell he’s nervous. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve heard Xaden stutter, but the sympathy you usually feel for him in those moments is nowhere to be found. How does he think you feel? You’re not stupid. You can tell something is going on, and his nerves only exacerbate yours.

Anger flares in your chest. He has no right to be nervous. He’s not the one being broken up with. He’s not the one being ignored and led to a sketchy abandoned room by yourself. What’s next? He tells you that you can’t join your squad on the next rotation? That he never wants to see you again? Tears prick your eyes but you blink them away. He doesn’t get to see you sad. You’ll stab him and then go cry to your squad. You know at least Sawyer would help you stab the others who knew about this.

As your thoughts continue to spiral, the door finally opens again. Xaden stands in the doorway, shielding your view of the hall with his body and the door.

You roll your eyes. “Just spit it out Xaden. I don’t have all day. Might as well get it over with.”

Confusion flashes across his face but he reins it in quickly. “I have something to tell you.”

“No shit,” you scoff.

Again with the confused face. As if he has no idea why you’re so angry. He really does think you’re too stupid to figure it out.

“Just try not to be mad at me,” he pleads softly. “I had my reasons and you know how far I’ll go to protect the ones I love. It’s not that I didn’t trust you, but no one who didn’t already know before the Apostasy could find out. It was the only safe option.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. Your face scrunches as you look him up and down. What the hell is he talking about?

He pushes the door open the rest of the way as he slowly walks inside. It isn’t until he’s made it past the doorway that you notice something behind him. Correction. Someone.

Your jaw drops as a child—a boy—who looks like the carbon copy of Xaden shuffles in behind him. He couldn’t be older than ten. He has the same black hair and brows. The same tawny skin and onyx eyes. His hands are held behind his back, just like Xaden’s. The perfect, confident posture that you only learn from years of being taught how to carry yourself as a leader. Regardless, you can tell the boy is nervous with the furrow between his brows. The way he keeps looking at Xaden for reassurance.

“My love,” Xaden begins, glancing from you to the boy, “this is my little brother, Jace.”

The boy—Jace—steps forward and dips his chin in greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss.”

Your mouth gapes like a fish, your brain still grappling with the fact you are not being broken up with but instead being introduced to a child.

“Little brother?” you manage to choke out.

Xaden nods, placing a hand on Jace’s shoulder as he guides him to sit down in a chair across from you, Xaden taking the seat next to him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, but it was crucial no one knew of his existence until it was safe. Now that we have some form of an alliance with Navarre, his presence can be known by others but still kept quiet.”

“I—I’m sorry. You have a little brother. That’s why you brought me here?” you stammer.

Xaden tilts his head as he regards you with his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, love, this is why I brought you here. Why else?”

You shake your head, hoping that rattling your brain around will help unscramble your thoughts. “I’m just shocked is all,” you say. “It’s not at all what I was expecting. It’s wonderful to meet you, Jace.”

Jace gives you a shy smile and looks back to his brother.

“Why exactly has he been kept a secret?” you ask.

Xaden sighs and ruffles Jace’s hair, to which Jace swats his arm away with a glare that could one day rival Xaden’s. “As of right now, he’s my heir. With all the targets on my back, and even Bodhi’s who everyone thinks is my last living relative, it was the only way to keep Jace safe. You want to believe no one would kill a child for the sake of ending a family line, but I wanted to believe an entire kingdom wouldn’t keep venin and wyverns a secret from its people for so long, yet here we are. If anyone high up had known that Duke Lewellen was harboring my little brother—I don’t even want to think about what they would have done.”

You nod solemnly. He’s right. You would want to believe they wouldn’t kill an innocent child but you have seen just how far they’re willing to go to keep their secrets or further their agendas. Jace would have been an easy target.

“So now that you’re back, he doesn’t have to be a secret anymore?” you hedge.

“Kind of. Those who are trusted to come to Riorson House are allowed to know about him, but I ask everyone to not let it leave Aretia. Things are still rocky between Tyrrendor and Navarre despite the treaty, and I won’t take any risks when it comes to him. But now that I’m home to watch over him myself, I feel a little better about letting him out into the world.”

“I can take care of myself,” Jace chides.

You roll your lips together as you try to suppress a smile. He’s practically Xaden Junior and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. That your thoughts spiraled to something so terrible when in reality, Jace will probably be the greatest gift. He’ll at least make things a lot more fun around here.

Xaden smirks as he looks down at Jace. “Yeah, I’m sure you could, little man. You’ll give Bodhi a run for his money when he starts training you in combat.”

They joke and tussle each other some more while you watch with a fond smile. Your galloping heart is still slowing, still soaking in the truth, but the sight of Xaden and Jace laughing together soothes you. Xaden is so serious all the time, always brooding or giving orders. It’s nice to see him be a little more lighthearted.

As they calm down and remember their company, the seriousness returns to Xaden’s face as he looks at you. There he is.

“I wanted to tell you first, Xaden murmurs. “But I didn’t get to pick the rotation schedule. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. I honestly—“ You halted, remembering Jace and deciding it wasn’t best to have this conversation in front of him.

Xaden seemed to realize your hesitation and told Jace to go find Garrick with a pat on his head. Jace smiles at you in goodbye and you return it. Xaden picks up his chair and moved it to your side of the table, leaning so his elbows rest on his knees and gives you his full attention.

You reposition yourself in your seat and grab one of Xaden’s hands to fiddle with his fingers in an effort to calm your nerves.

“I thought you were breaking up with me,” you whisper.

His head rears back, shock clear on his face. “Why the hell would you think that?”

Heat spreads across your cheeks from embarrassment. “You were acting weird. Everyone was acting weird. It’s just the first thing that came to mind, I’m sorry.”

Xaden places one of his hands on yours to stop your fidgeting, forcing you to look up at him. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. Everyone was acting weird because they knew I’d be telling you today and honestly, I was terrified,” he says, his voice cracking at the end.

Your brows furrow with confusion.

Xaden sighs and scoots his chair closer to you, your knees touching. “In the beginning, I had to keep so many secrets from you. And we promised each other to be truthful after you found out about the revolution. I worried that when you found out…you’d break up with me. It’s why I didn’t let myself touch or kiss you. I thought it would just make it worse for myself.“

“Oh, Xaden,” you sigh. You get up from your chair and crawl into his lap, straddling his muscular thighs as he moves his hands to your hips to support you. Your hands cup his face as you speak. “I don’t blame you for my insecurities. And I definitely don’t blame you for protecting your little brother. It’s quite sweet, actually.”

Xaden scoffs and looks away, a slight blush crawling up his cheeks. You smile at the man you love. The man you are so happy isn’t breaking up with you. It’s the first time you’ve been grateful he had another secret.

Onyx eyes meet yours and you practically melt at the love shining in them. “I’m so glad you aren’t mad at me,” he whispers.

“I’m glad you aren’t breaking up with me,” you whisper back.

His lips find yours, slow and passionate. As if he’s pouring his love into your mouth and making sure you savor every declaration.

He rests his head against yours, your chests heaving as you catch your breaths. “We are going to have a talk about why in Dunne’s name you thought I would ever let you go.”

You laugh, throwing your arms around his shoulders as your head tilts back.

There’s a smirk on his face when you calm down, but his eyes tell you he’s not joking. He won’t be letting this go anytime soon.

“So when do I get to watch Jace kick Bodhi’s ass?” you ask.

This time Xaden is the one to laugh.

#fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #the empyrean #rebecca yarros #fourth wing fic #fourth wing x reader #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #xadenweek2025 #xaden x reader

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luvly-writer · 2 months ago

Text

Aretia: Ceaelyan First

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

The war room was louder than usual—voices clashing, commands flying. But Y/n’s voice rose above them all, sharp and desperate.

“They burned it.” Her fists slammed against the table, her voice cracking. “You let them burn it!”

“Y/n—” Brennan’s voice was low, warning, but she didn’t flinch.

“My home is gone!” she shouted, eyes glassy. “Our village, our people—our family. You’re telling me we’re not even allowed to go check? Not even allowed to say goodbye?”

Ridoc stood behind her, jaw tight, his entire body vibrating with rage. He wasn’t saying anything—he didn’t have to. The way his hands curled into fists at his sides said enough.

“Intel says the venin might still be nearby,” the officer replied evenly. “It’s not safe.”

“I don’t care if it’s safe!” she snapped. “That’s our home. You can’t just expect us to sit here and do nothing.”

Xaden had entered quietly with the rest of the squad, but the second he saw Y/n like that—unraveled, eyes red, breathing uneven—he was at her side.

“Y/n—”

“Don’t.” She turned away from him, voice trembling as she held herself upright. “Don’t try to calm me down. You of all people know what this feels like.”

That stopped him cold. Because he did. And so did Imogen. Garrick. Bodhi. Quinn. Every one of them bore the scars of Aretia’s ashes, of running too late, of remembering how the sky looked blackened by the smoke of everything they ever loved.

“It’s the same,” Bodhi said softly, breaking the silence. “It’s just like Aretia. And no one let us go either.”

Y/n’s shoulders shuddered at the weight of it, her throat tightening around unshed tears. “They should have warned us. They should have let us go.”

“I know,” Xaden said gently, stepping closer, but not touching her yet. “I know.”

She turned toward the window, fists clenched at her sides. “There’s nothing left.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispered. “We heard the scouts. The village… only a few homes made it. A handful of people. The rest—”

Ridoc looked like he might punch a wall, or someone, as he took a shap breathe.

Y/n shook her head, voice barely above a whisper. “That place raised us.”

“I know,” Xaden repeated. “And when it’s safe… I’ll take you there. I swear to you, Y/n. We’ll go. You’ll see it again. You’ll say goodbye.”

She closed her eyes, silent tears trailing down her cheeks, and finally let Xaden step forward and wrap his arms around her. She didn’t sob. She just leaned into him and held tight—like she was trying to keep the pieces of herself from slipping through her fingers.

The squad surrounded them, quiet, protective. Mourning with them. Because they understood what it meant to lose a home—and to not even be allowed to bury it.

That night, the Riorson estate was still, the kind of stillness that came after bad news—when even the wind outside seemed to quiet in respect.

Y/n stood in the doorway of Ridoc’s room, her arms wrapped around herself, sleeves of her black undershirt pushed halfway up. She didn’t say anything at first. She didn’t need to.

Ridoc was already sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair still damp from the shower. His eyes lifted to hers and something broke quietly between them. The bond only twins could understand—grief mirrored in each other’s eyes.

Without a word, she stepped inside and crawled under the blankets beside him, like she used to when storms scared her as a child. He didn’t question it. He didn’t tease her like he might have on any other night. He just lay back beside her, one arm coming around her shoulders.

For a while, they didn’t speak. The silence between them was heavy but not unbearable. It was shared.

“I keep seeing it,” she whispered eventually, voice rough from hours of crying. “Our house. The beach. Maelyn’s garden. The little pier where we used to race to see who could jump in first.”

“I know,” Ridoc murmured, staring at the ceiling. “I can smell the saltwater. Hear that old merchant yelling about fresh fruit.”

Y/n gave a broken laugh, the sound fragile. “We didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“No,” he agreed softly, tightening his hold on her. “But we still have each other. That’s something.”

She blinked hard, trying to will the tears away again. “You’re the only piece of home I’ve got left.”

Ridoc turned his head toward her, his expression unusually soft. “You’ll always have me, princess. You know that, right?”

She nodded into his chest, finally letting herself breathe a little easier. In this moment, wrapped in the comfort of the only person who knew her entire world from the very beginning, Y/n let herself rest.

That night, Xaden walked past the closed door and paused. He didn’t knock. He didn’t open it. He simply pressed his hand briefly to the wood, understanding that tonight—Y/n wasn’t his to hold.

She was Ridoc’s sister first. A child of the coast. And right now, she needed the one soul who had lost the same pieces of home she had.

The sun had just begun to stretch over the horizon, painting the Riorson estate in soft, amber light. The halls were quiet—too quiet for Xaden’s liking—but he knew better than to disturb that silence right now.

He stood just outside the training courtyard, leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed as he waited. Moments later, Ridoc emerged from the west wing, hair tousled, shirt wrinkled from sleep. He stopped short when he saw Xaden already there.

“You didn’t sleep,” Ridoc said bluntly, reading him too easily.

“Didn’t want to,” Xaden replied. “Did she?”

“Eventually.”

There was a pause, heavy but not tense.

“She needed someone who remembered what it smelled like at low tide,” Ridoc said, eyes flicking out toward the horizon. “The fish market. The old inn with the green shutters. The salt in the air. We both did.”

“I know.” Xaden’s voice was quiet. “That’s why I didn’t go to her.”

Ridoc looked at him then—really looked. And though he didn’t say it, there was something like respect in his gaze. “She still loves you,” he said, as if Xaden needed the reassurance. “She just… needed to be someone’s sister last night. Not a cadet. Not your future anything. Just a girl who lost the only home she’s ever known.”

“I understand,” Xaden said. And he did.

He looked up toward the window of Ridoc’s room where the curtain fluttered faintly. “When she’s ready, I’ll be here. For whatever she needs.”

Ridoc nodded slowly. “You always are.”

They stood in silence for another moment before Ridoc added, quieter, “You should eat. You look like shit.”

A dry huff escaped Xaden’s throat. “I’ll take it under advisement, Gamlyn.”

Ridoc gave him a tired grin, the first one in days. “Good. You’ll need your strength. She’s not done fighting yet.”

Xaden nodded, the weight of those words sinking into his bones. “Neither am I.”

It was past midday when Y/n found him.

Xaden was in the empty strategy room, the fireplace crackling softly, maps spread across the table but forgotten. He stood with his back to the door, arms braced on the edge of the stone, head lowered, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes, analyzing.

She didn’t say a word—just stepped inside, quiet as the grief clinging to her skin.

He turned at the sound of the door closing, and the second his eyes met hers, everything in him stilled. No words. No breath.

Her face was streaked with dried tears, her hair, messy and undone, the faint scent of home still clinging to her—salt and wind and something fragile. For a heartbeat, she looked so young. So heartbreakingly tired.

“I couldn’t…” her voice broke before she could finish.

He crossed the room in two long strides and pulled her into his arms like the world depended on it.

Y/n collapsed against him, fists twisting into the front of his shirt as the dam finally cracked open. The sob that tore out of her shook them both, shattered his heart into pieces. Xaden tightened his arms around her, holding her like he could keep her world from falling apart if he just held her hard enough.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his chest, voice hoarse. “I should’ve come sooner. I just— I couldn’t breathe, Xaden. I couldn’t—”

“Shhh,” he murmured, lips pressed to her hair. “You don’t owe me anything, Y/n. You never have to apologize for hurting.”

Her hands fisted tighter, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck as more tears slipped free. “It was my home. My people. And I wasn’t there.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know what that guilt feels like. But none of it was your fault.”

He rocked her gently, grounding her in his warmth, his presence, the slow rhythm of his breathing. He didn’t rush her. Didn’t tell her to stop crying. Just held her until her shaking began to slow.

When she finally pulled back, eyes puffy and red, he cupped her face with both hands and kissed her forehead.

“You’re not alone in this,” he said, voice steady and low. “You have Ridoc. You have our squad. You have me.”

Y/n nodded slowly, pressing her cheek into his palm. “I didn’t want to feel anything good again. But then I thought of you. And gods, Xaden, that scared me.”

He kissed her again, this time gently on the lips, a touch full of sorrow and love. “Don’t ever be afraid of needing me. I’ll carry the weight if you can’t. I’ll carry all of it.”

And in that quiet room, where only the fire witnessed their brokenness, she let herself believe him.

The morning sun filtered faintly through the clouds, soft and golden, casting a warm haze over the training grounds. The squad was already gathered—stretching, gearing up, exchanging tired but familiar banter.

Y/n stood at the edge of the field, her posture rigid, brows furrowed. Her uniform was perfectly in place, daggers strapped to her side, hair neatly braided with Tyrrish silks in red and gold—but her eyes were distant. Hollow.

She hadn’t trained with them in days. Had barely spoken. And yet… she was here. That mattered.

Rhiannon noticed her first and didn’t say anything—just walked up to her and held out a waterskin with a soft, knowing smile. “You’ll need it, twin blade. Bodhi’s already bragging he’s faster than you now.”

Y/n gave a small huff, a ghost of a smile pulling at her lips as she took it. “He always was delusional.”

Bodhi grinned from a few paces away. “Hey! I resent that.”

Imogen elbowed him lightly. “Good. Means it’s true.”

Violet joined her side silently, tossing a throwing dagger into the air with casual ease before handing it to her. “Missed your aim, princess.”

Y/n took it with careful fingers, glancing at him. “I missed being needed.”

“Always needed,” she said firmly, and nudged her shoulder. “Always loved.”

Across the yard, Garrick was setting up the course with Quinn, both of them stealing glances at her. When she looked their way, Quinn gave her a cheeky salute, and Garrick winked, calling out, “Hope you’re not rusty, Gamlyn! I’ve been waiting to beat you for weeks!”

Xaden stood quietly near the weapons rack, not interfering. Not pushing. Just watching her with eyes so full of silent support it almost hurt.

Y/n inhaled deeply, rolled her shoulders back, and finally stepped forward onto the field.

“I’m not rusty,” she said, voice steadier now. “You all just got lazy without me.”

A round of playful groans, cheers, and laughter erupted around her, and just like that, the rhythm of the squad began to stitch itself back together. Not whole—not yet—but healing.

And Xaden, still silent, let the corner of his mouth lift ever so slightly.

A few weeks later, they were able to finally fly over to Ceaelyn.

The wind carried the scent of salt and smoke as their dragons circled low over the coast. From the sky, Y/n could see the damage—burned rooftops, broken fishing boats, crumbled stone walls. The once-colorful market square was now half-collapsed, and the beach looked faded without the children that used to run across its shores.

Her fingers gripped Tiamats’s scales tightly as the dragon descended. Xaden’s shadow fell beside hers as Sgaeyl landed silently nearby.

Y/n dismounted before Tiamat had even fully settled, boots crunching softly against the earth she hadn’t touched in over a year. Ridoc followed quietly, his expression unreadable, but his steps mirrored hers. Together, the Gamlyn twins walked toward the heart of the village.

It was quiet. Too quiet. But then—

A door creaked open. Another. And then a voice.

“…Y/n?”

She turned.

An older man—Master Elric, the baker who used to sneak her extra sweetbread when she was little—stood with wide, disbelieving eyes. He looked thinner now, grayer, but his eyes softened the moment they found hers.

“Stars above, it is you.”

The next moment was a blur. More doors opened. More faces emerged. Children peeked out from behind their mothers. And then—

“The Gamlyn twins have come home,” someone whispered.

And it spread.

Soon, hands reached for them—weathered, calloused, gentle. She was embraced by people they hadn’t seen since they were children. A woman with tears in her eyes placed a beaded bracelet in her hand—her grandmother’s, saved from the rubble. Another handed Ridoc a handful of seashells from the rebuilt shoreline. A boy clung to her leg, looking up at her with awe.

“You really fight the Venin?” he asked.

“We do,” Y/n said softly, brushing his hair back. “For you. For all of us.”

Behind her, Xaden watched in silence, eyes locked on the way the villagers held her, how they lit up just from her presence. She didn’t just belong here—she was hope here. She was the girl they remembered, and the warrior they now looked to.

Someone handed her a woven sash—one she had once worn during coastal festivals—and tied it gently around her waist.

“I thought we lost you,” the baker whispered, hugging her again.

“I thought I lost you,” Y/n replied, voice cracking as she leaned into him. “But I’m here. I’m still yours.”

And as Ridoc stood by her side, as Xaden approached and laced his fingers quietly with hers, she felt it.

Not closure.

But the start of healing.

After walking around some of the square, Y/n went to the beach, needing to check out something.

The sky was painted in muted oranges and purples as the sun dipped low over the horizon. The tide lapped gently against the shore, soft and steady, as if trying to erase the memories of fire and ash.

Y/n walked barefoot through the sand, Ridoc and the rest of the squad giving her space. Xaden trailed behind at a respectful distance, watching her with quiet eyes, knowing she needed this moment alone.

Her boots were discarded by the jagged rocks, and her toes curled into the familiar grain of sand. She walked down the shoreline, scanning the landscape with a heart full of hope and dread—until she saw it.

The tide pools.

Her favorite spot.

Her place for her mental shields.

Nestled between two craggy outcroppings of rock was a shallow, crescent-shaped dip in the stone where the sea always pooled, trapping tiny fish, star-shaped shells, and smooth stones. As children, she and Ridoc used to sit there for hours, pointing at the creatures, skipping stones, and pretending they were ocean royalty guarding a sacred cove.

It had survived.

She dropped to her knees at its edge, chest tightening as she stared down into the water—clear, gentle, untouched by the flames that had taken so much. Her reflection shimmered back at her, mingled with the sway of seaweed and darting silver flashes beneath the surface.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her fingers brushing the water.

“I thought this would be gone,” she whispered.

She didn't hear Xaden’s footsteps, but she felt him when he sank down behind her. He didn’t speak—he just wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin gently on her shoulder. Together, they looked down at the little pool.

“So these are the famous tide pools,” he murmured.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t cry. She leaned back against his chest, her voice trembling. “I used to come here when things felt too big. When I needed quiet. It’s like… even the sea remembers me.”

Xaden pressed a kiss to her temple. “Of course it does. You’re unforgettable.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips, barely there. She laced her fingers with his over her stomach.

For the first time in weeks, Y/n didn’t feel like she was grieving something lost. She felt like she had rediscovered something precious—something no war could take from her.

A few weeks later...

The town still bore its scars — blackened stone, hollowed frames of houses, streets that once bustled now only stirred quietly with the wind. But life had clawed its way back. Flowers bloomed defiantly in cracked earth, new beams propped up old walls, and children laughed again in narrow alleyways. The scent of the sea mixed with fresh bread and salt-dried nets, weaving something alive into what had once felt like a ghost.

Y/n walked beside Xaden, her hand in his, proudly guiding him through the parts of the village that had risen from the ashes. Troops had come after she’d insisted—no, demanded—reconstruction aid, and with it, hope had trickled back into her coastal home. She’d stood before the council with a sharp tongue and fire in her eyes, declaring, "You expect loyalty from Navarrian citizens and yet abandon them in ruin? You forget I’m not just a cadet. I am the future duchess of Tyrrendor—and I don’t forget where I come from. Neither should you."

Now, as she strolled down the cobbled main road, Tyrrish silks in her braid and sea-colored earrings glinting in the sun, people looked up from their stalls and shops—and smiled.

But not at her.

At him.

Xaden’s shoulders stiffened slightly at the attention, but Y/n squeezed his hand and tugged him gently closer.

A baker stepped forward first, wiping flour from her hands. “So this is the brooding rider who stole our girl’s heart,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye.

Y/n smiled, but didn’t deny it.

An older man leaned on his cane, nodding once at Xaden with quiet approval. “The Gamlyn twins… they were always ours. She gave us pride. You… you’ve given her a reason to smile again.”

Another woman reached up and straightened a thread from Y/n’s silk ribbon, then looked at Xaden. “You hold her heart, boy. That’s not something we give lightly here.”

A chorus of agreements rippled from around the square. Children stared at the sword on his back in awe. A few of the elders clapped his shoulder as he passed. One even muttered something about how he “better stay good to her, or the whole coast would rise up against him.”

Xaden took it all in with silent grace, but Y/n could feel the way his fingers tightened around hers. She leaned closer, whispered, “This is how I felt in Aretia.”

He looked at her, gaze softening. “I didn’t think I’d ever be welcomed like this.”

She tilted her head. “You didn’t just win me, Xaden. You protected what I love. Of course they see you.”

He paused then, standing still in the center of the square as more people smiled and went back to work—comforted by the sight of the couple who had somehow weathered the war and still held each other close. The Gamlyn girl and the Tyrrish heir. Sea and shadow.

And for once, Xaden Riorson didn’t feel like a weapon.

He felt like home.

The sky had faded into soft indigo by the time they returned to the small inn overlooking the edge of the village—the one Y/n had claimed for their stay. From the window, the sea whispered to the shore below, and the air was filled with the scent of salt and night-blooming jasmine.

Y/n sat on the edge of the bed, loosening the silk tie from her braid, her expression soft and unreadable. Xaden stood by the window, arms folded, gaze fixed on the stars scattered over the sea. He hadn’t said much since they left the town square. Just held her hand a little tighter. Just glanced her way a little longer.

She looked over at him now, brushing a curl from her face. “You’ve been quiet.”

He turned his head slowly, meeting her eyes.

“I’ve never had a place… that saw me as more than my father’s shadow,” he said quietly. “Or a weapon to be used. Even in Aretia, I was the general’s son. A child to grieve after the Apostasy. But this? These people? They looked at me like… like I belong.”

“You do,” Y/n said without hesitation. “You belong with me. And I belong to them. So they’re yours too now.”

He let out a soft breath, walking over and kneeling in front of her, resting his head lightly against her knee. “You fought for them, for your village. You fought for me, for Tyrrendor. You fight every day, and somehow still smile, still braid silk into your hair, still light up every room you walk into.”

She ran her fingers through his hair gently, soothing. “They weren’t just welcoming you, Xaden. They were thanking you. For loving me.”

He looked up at her, something raw in his expression. “That’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Y/n swallowed hard, brushing her thumb over his cheek. “I’m glad you felt it. That you felt seen. Because you are. Not for what you can do. But for who you are.”

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her thigh, then rested his forehead there again, eyes closed. “Thank you. For bringing me here. For sharing this part of yourself with me.”

“You’ve shared your world with me too,” she whispered. “It only felt right.”

And in the quiet that followed, filled only with the sound of waves and the warmth between them, Xaden Riorson—tyrrish duke, rebel, rider, shadow wielder—let himself feel something he rarely gave into: peace.

Because being with Y/n meant he didn’t have to fight to be understood. He simply was.

A few days - Aretia - Riorson Estate

Y/n had just returned from training, her braid loose and tousled, the scent of salt and metal still clinging to her skin. Aretia was unusually calm—cool winds rolling in from the cliffs, quiet murmurs from the kitchens, the distant flap of wings as dragons settled into the ridge.

She opened the door to their shared room, expecting to find Xaden already halfway into a report or sharpening one of his obsidian daggers.

Instead, she froze in the doorway.

He stood by the window, back to her, dressed not in his usual black leathers but in a pirate like shirt—loose and linen-soft, dyed a rich ocean-blue with cream threadwork stitched along the collar and sleeves. Traditional wear from her home. The kind her father wore on rest days. The kind Ridoc would sometimes pull on in summer.

It took her a moment to breathe again.

Xaden turned slowly, his dark hair still damp from a recent wash, and the shirt somehow made him look softer… warmer. And yet just as dangerous.

“I know it’s not black,” he teased, one brow arched as he took in her stunned expression. “But I saw it on the last run to the coast. Picked it up without telling you.”

Her throat tightened. “You—you remembered?”

He crossed the room to her, every step calm, deliberate, and folded his arms around her waist. “Of course I did. I saw your face every time you looked at the old merchants, at the shirts in the stalls. I know what it meant to you.”

She blinked quickly, a tear threatening to fall. “You wore it.”

“I’m yours, aren’t I?” he said quietly. “And that place—that culture—is part of you. So now it’s part of me too.”

Y/n smiled, eyes glinting as she traced her fingers along the collar of the shirt. “You look like a coastal lord.”

He smirked. “Then I guess I’ll need my duchess to stand beside me.”

She kissed him before he could say another word, and in that moment, wrapped in sea-colored cloth and the weight of their shared histories, they found something deeper than words: understanding, belonging, and love that honored all their roots.

Author's note: I love having a complex multifaceted/multilayered overthinking but fierce and strong Y/n.

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia @hiraethjules @nikfigueiredo @galaxystern08 @taleiaargenis @minidemont @poeticbookwormcat @eternallyrosyfire @shadowhuntyi @bubble300 @messageforthesmallestman @iheartshopping @lagrandeourse @readinf @barbreadsbooks @optimisticsoulstarfish @locatinginspo @lxnvmvrzx @im-a-weirdo-for-life

If you want be added to the taglist, leave a comment. <3

#iron flame #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden riorson x reader #ridoc fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn #xaden riorson imagine #xaden riorson x y/n #xaden and sgaeyl #onyx storm #the empyrean #ridoc and aotrom #ridoc x reader #of light and shadow

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deramin2 · 1 year ago

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Orym's argument against Ludinus Da'leth and the Ruby Vanguard is essentially "The purpose of a system is what it does."

This is a systems theory coined by Stafford Beer around 2001. He posited there is "no point in claiming that the purpose of a system is to do what it constantly fails to do." It does not matter what someone tells you a system does if it does not reliably do that. The things it does consistently do are the actual purpose of the system.

Ludinus (and Liliana) claim the purpose of the Ruby Vanguard's violence is to free Exandria of oppression from the gods. Orym's point is that they have not consistently protected anyone from oppression. They consistently murder innocent people, indoctrinate vulnerable people into doing terrible violence (including children), support a ruling class that dominates the population through mind control and eugenics, and seek to release a predator so terrifying that the warring alien gods and native primordials worked together to seal it away as a threat to both of them.

So the logical conclusion is that the purpose of Ludinus' system is not to free anyone from tyranny, it's to install himself as the tyrant. And it does not matter what Ludinus says it's for or even what he believes it's for. The purpose of a system is what it does. And Orym has been personally and repeatedly victimized by what it does. Why wouldn't he keep reminding them of that?

Add onto that, the Ruby Vanguard is a death cult. They lure people in with believable lies. They use propaganda to control how people view them and to convince people to support them. Liliana has been groomed into a true believer who genuinely thinks what she has been told is true and that Ludinus' system does what he says it will. She has been convincing other people of this for years. Not because she's an inherently bad person but because everyone generally tries to convince others that what we believe is true. It is actually dangerous to let a cultist try to talk you into the cult's perspective. That's why Orym shuts it down.

Orym was already on edge but it's fully in a breakdown after FCG's sacrifice. One more iteration of Ludinus' system consistently murdering the people he loves. But he still told Imogen he wants her to have a good relationship with her mom again. He wants Liliana to make it through the other side of this. But that has to involve consistently stating the reality of what's happening against what she believes.

Ludinus believes in the rapture of the revolution. Burn everything to the ground on a fundamental level and a new perfect society will grow, with him to guide it. The reality is that kind of power vacuum consistently leads to horrific violence and conditions often get much, much worse. Especially for vulnerable people, who often do not survive. A lot about the gods' relationships to mortals probably needs to change, but this an incredibly dangerous gamble to fix it.

The purpose of a system is what it does. Any suggestion otherwise is cold comfort to Orym's family in the ground.

#POSIWID #critical role #critical role spoilers #critical role meta #critical role campaign 3 #Bell's Hells #Orym of the Air Ashari #Ludinus Da'leth #Liliana Temult

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theseinfernalangels · 2 months ago

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Calm Before the Storm — Bodhi Durran

Synopsis: After being excluded from weapon-drops for reasons unknown, only one thing can give you solace: Bodhi. Sometimes, though, not even he can calm the swell of your storms alone.

Includes: Marked!Reader, more Freya lore, slooooow burn, my own interpretation of how Bodhi manifested, angst yet again, mentions of slight passive suicidal ideation, and lots of thunder. Italic font marks spoken Tyrrish. Takes place before Fourth Wing.

Day 3 of Bodhi Week is the why of how Bodhi gets his signet — and I will be writing for that — but what about the when? What could have forced him to stop another person’s signet?

For you, it started small. Xaden didn’t want to have you to come along on his first weapon delivery — but that was just in case he got caught and executed. That was fine. Garrick wasn’t allowed to go, either, so it made sense. You laid in bed and prayed that no one would catch Xaden, and all would be well.

Then, after the first four drops, Garrick started to tag along. More hands, Xaden said, would get the Poromish army more weaponry. Only Garrick, though. You and Soleil didn’t come, since neither of you had manifested yet. That made sense, too. No use in going on missions when you couldn’t even wield yet. Spéir even agreed, so you stayed put.

But then you manifested — quite powerfully. The storm-wielding signet was rare. So rare, actually, that only two living people had that signet: General Sorrengail, and you. That time, you elected to stay at Basgiath yourself. There was no way of telling how your signet worked, and with how tricky it was, you didn’t want to risk exposing the entire operation. You stared out the window as Sgaeyl and Chradh darted out under the cover of darkness. It would only be a matter of time, you told yourself. Once things finally got under control, you’d be flying and helping the movement in no time.

Finally, the year ended. You all moved up, your signet training continued, and more marked ones were added to Basgiath’s roster. More hands, when they were ready to wield. You were just glad that they didn’t make Bodhi go, since he was Xaden’s little right-hand man. The two of you laid in your respective beds before ultimately deciding to spend the nights with each other in your room, not enjoying the feeling of being left behind.

It was easy to cope with it all when Bodhi was there to hold you. Sure, you felt excluded, but you weren’t the only one that was left to watch.

Until tonight.

Maybe it was just pure ignorance that led Imogen to spill that she and Bodhi would be doing deliveries today, despite the fact that they were newly-bonded and hadn’t manifested their signets yet. Maybe it was her way of boasting about her skills. That had hit home, though, to be the final straw with your patience.

What was so bad about you that you couldn’t help?

You pace back and forth in your room, your shields fastened so tightly that it makes your head throb. If Spéir knew what was happening, you knew she’d take it up with Sgaeyl — and although you trusted your dragon more than you did yourself, you weren’t confident that she would make it out of a confrontation like that alive.

“Am I that weak?” You whisper, halting and staring down at your hands. A slight breeze brushes across your skin, rustling your hair a little. “It isn’t possible…”

Could you have done something to make Xaden lose faith in you? You’d gone along with his plans perfectly, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know you — you’d been sneaking around with each other since the ripe age of eight. Sure, there had been some time lost when you were separated, but that couldn’t mean anything, right?

You hardly notice the wind picking up outside, thick clouds rolling in and covering the bright September sun. Someone else does, however — or, rather, his dragon does — and the Green wastes no time in urging his rider to come find you.

You’re glaring down at yourself when a soft knock pulls you from your thoughts. Only one person would dare come for you on one of your days off. You flick your wrist, the lock on your door sliding out with a small click, and wait.

Hesitantly, cautiously, the door slides open, and a familiar curl-clad head pops through the door. You’d finally gotten around to adjusting your wards so that he could enter without you, so he slides in and closes the door wordlessly before turning to you.

“Hey,” he greets you softly, his eyes meeting yours in concern. “You alright?”

No, actually. You’re far from alright.

“Yes?” You blink. “Why?”

Bodhi plops on your bed as if he belongs there. “Because the winds are going insane right now, and it just got so cloudy that it looks like it’s evening.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You move to the window and poke your head through the curtains; sure enough, it looks dark enough to be at least eight at night.

“Oh,” is all you can say. You inhale a little and force the winds to die down a little. “My bad.”

Your body startles a bit as a gentle hand comes to grasp your shoulder. “A chara,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that you have to lean back a little to hear him. “You don’t have to give me details, but I’d really like to know what’s bothering you. I feel like you’ve been avoiding us a lot, and I miss you.”

A muscle in your jaw feathers. “I’m not avoiding anyone,” you huff, shoving your hands in your pockets as you try to quell the winds. “I just have things to do.”

Under your breath, you can’t help but add, “And clearly, everyone else does, too.”

Bodhi stills. Ah. It wasn’t that you were in pain or stressed out. You were…envious. Jealous, maybe? No, jealousy was too petty for you — right?

Ever so gently, he nudges you in the direction of your bed. “Is this because of that fight earlier?” He asks, tilting his head. “Because I totally agree—“

“No,” you snap, shaking your head. “I’m pissed off that I can’t do the dagger drops tonight. Riorson clearly doesn’t trust me to get the job done, or I’d be doing it every other time.”

His brow furrows. That couldn’t be possible. “Are you kidding?” He asks. “Of course he trusts you. You’re one of the only people he allows to see him when—“

“That’s not the same.” You cut him off harshly. ”You don’t get it, Bodhs. I understood the first few times. None of us went, and then I hadn’t manifested yet, which was fair enough, but then everyone is allowed to go except me?”

You scoff, throwing a lazy hand in his direction. “You haven’t even gotten your signet yet, and he’s sending you out. What a load of bullshit.”

Bodhi frowns, a little line dipping by his lip. In retrospect, it was pretty hypocritical of his cousin to keep you on a short leash while everyone else got to contribute to the revolution — but, on another, smaller hand, he was grateful. It kept you out of harm’s way and kept Bodhi’s heart from twisting in worry every time he thought about you.

“I guess,” he concedes. “But I don’t think it’s about my or Imogen’s signets. We’re bonded now—“

“That’s not it, either,” you groan. “Because that’s the excuse we had for why we couldn’t go last year.”

You shake your head. Excuses. So many damn excuses. You were done with them.

“I don’t think it stands as a testament to your character,” Bodhi says gently, touching two fingers to your elbow in a familiar, grounding gesture. “Maybe it’s because—“

“I don’t need an explanation,” you snap. “He doesn’t want to include me because he thinks I’m incapable. I’m too unpredictable. I’m weak, and if we get caught, it’ll be on me. He doesn’t have to say it, Bodhi. I get the idea pretty damn well.”

Your jaw clenches, and before you can quite comprehend it, a loud crack of thunder boomsfrom outside, rattling the windowpanes and sending a pleasant hum through your bones. You welcome the oncoming storm that will blow off some steam — but Bodhi clearly does not.

He takes your wrists gently in his, squeezing over your relic as if to stop the flow of power surging from you. “Stop that,” he scolds softly. “Don’t talk about yourself that way. You’re far from weak, and you know it.”

You feel yourself stiffen a little before a dry scoff leaves you. “I’ll talk about myself any way I damn please,” you counter, snatching your hands away. “It’s true. Clearly, I’m not wanted. Why don’t you go run off to play shadow, huh? Leave me to get over it.”

The words that leave your mouth surprise you — but you don’t move to take them back. Bodhi’s mouth settles into a firm line before he shakes his head stubbornly.

“What is this?” He demands, flinching as more thunder sounds from outside. “Are you serious? You can’t be. You can’t seriously believe that you’re incapable just because Xaden or Garrick won’t let you risk your life for a few dagger drops.”

You push yourself off your bed, beginning to pace back and forth. “Really?” You shoot back. “Then why is every other fucking marked kid in this gods-forsaken college running out every other night, while I’m holed away in here to watch, huh? I have one of the rarest signets in my year, but that obviously doesn’t mean anything, or else I’d be on Spéir’s back going gods-know-where right now.”

“He’s just protecting you!” Bodhi says, his eyes widened with something like pleading. “He doesn’t want you hurt, chara. It’s not an insult.”

“To you!” You whirl around, eyes blazing in anger. As if on cue, rain starts pouring from the sky, although it’d been nothing but sunny just an hour earlier. “It’s not an insult to you, Bodhi. But it is to me. I’d rather have someone try and assassinate me again than this. At least those people are honest with me.”

He stands, his irritation and anxiety cresting. You couldn’t possibly mean that, could you?

“Don’t say that,” he repeats insistently. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Oh,” you spit. “Really, now? Because I find it perfectly reasonable. I’m surprised you’re even here given the fact that the only person who even talks to me anymore is Cosette, and she doesn’t fucking know about what we’re doing yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if Garrick told her and got her to start soon.”

Bodhi had only paid about an eighth of his attention to the chaos outside, but his head instantly snaps to stare at the window as a streak of lightning lights up the darkened sky. Shit. He needs to stop this, and soon — before someone else shows up to deal with it.

“Easy,” he tries, showing you his hands placatingly. “He would never. Cosette knows a lot about a lot, but Garrick would never risk her like that. I think he’d have a heart attack.”

“Gee.” You snort. “I’d agree, but I wouldn’t know that, seeing as he hasn’t talked to me in almost two weeks.”

“That’s hardly on him,” Bodhi protests against his better judgement. The sight of the withering look you shoot him sends a chill down his back, as if you’d shot cold air down his shirt.

Actually, maybe you had. It wouldn’t take a genius to notice that the temperature in the room was dropping, which meant — Fuck. You’re losing control of yourself. His eyes dart around for any of those special little conduits he sees you carrying around all the time, but to no avail.

There is nothing standing in the way of you summoning a hurricane in this building right now besides him.

“A thaisce,” he tries to reason with you. “Please. Breathe for a second, and we can talk about it. You gotta calm down, before—“

“Before what?” The laugh that leaves you is rough. “Before I tear this place apart? I’m too weak for that, Bodhs.”

Goosebumps appear on Bodhi’s arms. He tries to think: What could possibly keep you from breaking and having leadership come after you? He can’t even begin to count possibilities, because he can’t even think of one.

Desperately, he begins to plead. “Please,” he begs. “I can’t— They don’t think you’re weak, because we all know you’re not. You’re so responsible, and capable, and—“

More thunder.

Your eyes flash with something sadder this time, and you shake your head. “They don’t think so,” you say lowly, barely registering the cool air around you. “I just don’t get why.”

Bodhi opens his mouth to try and calm you, to list a thousand reasons why you’re perfectly responsible outside of the duty (why were you so obsessed with it, anyway?) before he freezes, Cuir’s low, raspy voice echoing through his mind.

“Gréine,” he warns. “There are whispers among leadership. Calm your girl before they find a reason to question her.”

Bodhi doesn’t even take the time to linger over the dragon’s words, his blood running cold at the mere thought of you being interrogated by anyone who’d love to take you out.

“Chara.” The endearing term comes out automatically. “Levine. Please. Breathe. Cuir says leadership is starting to notice the storm. I don’t want you to—“

“What,” you interrupt, “be killed? Maybe they should kill me; you know, get rid of the deadweight.”

The anxiety in Bodhi’s mind subsides into a solid, almost-tangible feeling of horror. Behind his eyes, he can see something glow. Something raw, something real. Something you need — or else you’ll be ripped away from him again.

“What?” He whispers, his gut sinking. “I—No. You don’t mean that.”

His chest starts to heave a little, and you halt with the realization that your apathetic attitude has Bodhi on the precipice of panic. Shit.

“You don’t mean that,” he repeats, glancing out the window at the torrential downpour that streams from the almost-black clouds. “No. I’m not letting you die. Not like that.”

Suddenly, the roles are reversed, and you’re suddenly hit with a clarity you haven’t felt in days — maybe even weeks.

“Bodhi,” you say softly, regret hitting you straight in the stomach. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to say that.”

You’re too late, though. Your words have done their damage, and Bodhi looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. No — he feels it. He needs to stop this now, but he can’t. He’s not strong enough. Not strong enough to stop your storms,

or to protect you from the people who want you dead.

He can’t let that happen. He won’t.

“That’s the spirit,” Cuir says encouragingly, his tone lighter with excitement. “You see that light, Gréine? Reach down and grab that. It’s yours. Stop her. Make her see.”

You frown, more confused. “Bodhi?”

Instinctively, he imagines himself stretching, reaching like he does for his bond with Cuir and curling his fingers around that ball of power that shakes in his chest. He stares out the window for a second at the ongoing storm and grits his teeth, yanking the light to his chest and gasping when he feels it surge all the way through him, as if he himself had been struck by lightning.

He’s not alone in the feeling. The clouds and lightning that swirl in your stomach slow a little — like a physical, impossible barrier had separated the air and convinced it to quiet down. You stiffen a little as an unfamiliar sensation is draped upon you. It’s not uncomfortable; more than anything, it feels like someone has snuffed out a candle in you, leaving you with nothing but a gentle breeze and a summer rain in your veins.

Make her see.

And, just like that, the storm outside lessens. It’s subtle, barely noticeable, but the roaring thunder quiets to soft rumbles, and the pouring rain lets up to a light drizzle. You’re so caught off-guard that your shields slide down, and it’s only a matter of time before Spéir pokes into your mind.

“Zephyr? Are you alright?”

You don’t acknowledge her, though. Instead, you just study Bodhi for a moment, who looks so confused that it’s almost comical.

Did he just…

You take a step closer, testing to see if he’s still aware of himself. “Bodhi?”

He looks up, a tinge of fear sparking in his eyes. He holds his shaking hands out in front of him as if they were plagued.

“What did I just do?” He whispers frantically. “Is that…Was that normal?”

You shake your head and take another step closer, gently taking his hand and rubbing your fingers over his knuckles. Sure enough, his skin tingles, vibrating with a newfound sense of power that you’ve never seen before.

You observe him for a moment before you take a step back. “I…think that may be your signet, Bodhs.”

Bodhi looks so shaken that you barely even care about the fact that you’d been moments away from flooding the school. You reach out and test your power tentatively, finding it tucked away in that neat little box you keep it in. For some reason, though, you can only draw out a little. A light breeze brushes against Bodhi’s face, and you guide him to sit down.

He shakes himself from his stupor and grabs you by the hips, pulling you in between his legs and staring at you desperately.

“You didn’t mean that though, right?” He whispers. “You don’t actually…”

Your eyes soften, and you trace a gentle finger across his jaw before sinking it into his hair.

“No,” you reply quietly. “I don’t want to be killed. I just…It sucks, I guess. That Xaden doesn’t trust me to get the job done. You’d think he’d have more faith in me than that.”

Still fearful, the boy sinks his hands into your sheets and grips them tightly. “I don’t know why he won’t let you go,” he says quietly, “but let me say this: It’s not because you’re weak, or incapable, or irresponsible. If you were, you wouldn’t be in charge of training us on weekends, or you’d probably be dead right now.”

With a clearer mind, you can finally hear his reasoning. While you don’t exactly agree, you can accept it enough to lay the subject to rest.

“Well…” You suck in a deep breath. “Fair. It just hurts, you know? No one will even talk to me. It’s like I’m not even a Tyr anymore.”

A strong pair of arms wraps around you, pulling you into Bodhi’s warmth.

“Not true,” he says, tucking his face into your neck. “You’ll always be a part of what we’re doing, whether Xaden allows you to come or not. I’ll always make sure of that.”

Absentmindedly, you run your hands over his shoulders, still tense with anxiety.

“Are you okay?” You prompt him. “Ease up. It’s just your signet working itself for the first time.”

You feel him press a tiny, almost unnoticeable little kiss to your neck before he draws away and shakes his head.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says, staring down at his hands. “I just know I wanted the storm to stop, and Cuir said to grab the little light…”

Well, there’s that. You’d helped Bodhi to wield for the first time, but out of pure necessity. Maybe that was better than it taking control of him on its own at any other given moment.

“Try relaxing it,” you suggest, smoothing your hand over him again. “You still see that light, m'eudail? You still have it in your hands?”

Bodhi closes his eyes. Sure enough, that green light is still there, pulsing and thrumming with all the power he has no idea how to use. “Yes?”

“Let it go,” you say carefully. “Not all at once, but try bringing yourself away from it.”

Straining, Bodhi moves his hands. It’s difficult, like that time he decided to stick his hand in a bucket of honey, but eventually he finds himself a good distance away from it. He opens his eyes wearily.

A triumphant little grin splays on your lips. “Good,” you praise, ruffling his hair a bit. “That was good.” You try sending out a smaller wind, and sure enough, it presses against his temple.

“You’re not a storm wielder.” You cock your head to the side in thought. “You can’t be. But I don’t understand…”

Where your voice trails off, Cuir’s picks up in the back of his head.

“The girl is correct. You are no storm wielder.”

“Okay,” he replies, dumbfounded, “but what does that mean?”

“It means,” the dragon says, “that you did not bend the storm. You bent your girl’s power, down at its core. You, Gréine, are a signet-blocker.”

He pauses and tilts his head. “A signet-blocker?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. There was no way…

“Holy shit,” you breathe. “Are you serious?”

He meets your eyes and nods. “That’s what Cuir said.”

You stare at him for a moment before plopping down next to him. He blocked your signet. He didn’t will the storm away — he went down into you and countered the streams of your power like a human dam.

“That’s…unbelievable.” You shake your head. “I don’t think you get it, Bodhs. That power…”

He flexes his fingers subconsciously. “Is it…bad?”

“No!” You exclaim. “Bodhi, that signet…I‘ve never heard of it once. Give it a year or two, and you very well may be one of the most powerful people on The Continent.”

A signet-blocker. That means that no matter who he goes up against, no matter how rare or useful their signet is, Bodhi could disable them instantly. Maybe he doesn’t get it yet — you’ll save that talk for his cousin — but that’s impressive. Maybe also a bit intimidating, the way he stopped a whole downpour, but nonetheless impressive.

“You should go tell the others,” you say with a small nudge. “It’s exciting, but also really important.”

He frowns and shakes his head no. “I’m not leaving you. We still need to talk it out.”

You blink. “Did we not just do that?”

He catches your hand and lowers it to your lap. “No,” he says firmly. “You vented, and then I manifested. That’s not a conversation.”

As much as you’d like to argue with him (because seriously — you have a lot more to say), you can tell he’s serious. Bodhi never takes on that stern tone with you, which means that it would do you good to can it and listen.

He lifts your hands to his and presses his forehead to yours. “You are not weak,” he says fiercely. “You are not incapable, and you are more responsible than Xaden, Garrick, and me combined. They’re trying to keep you alive, and you’re not safe if you’re going out to do highly illegal shit that would absolutely have you killed.”

“I don’t want to be safe,” you huff. “I want to help. I made a promise, and I intend on keeping it.”

“…And I didn’t?”

Silence.

And then…

“I’m sorry?”

Bodhi’s eyes sparkle with something a little deeper, something protective. “I made a promise, too, you know,” he murmurs. “Don’t you remember?”

You open your mouth to retort that, no, you don’t remember…And then it hits you.

Screams.

A hand on your shoulder.

Bodhi, pulling you into his chest.

Him shooting a small nod to your father right before he went up in flames.

He hadn’t been paying his respects to the commander. No — he’d been making a vow.

“I said I’d protect you,” he says quietly, “no matter the cost. I don’t plan on forsaking that promise, and I’m sorry that it makes you feel angry and insulted. I don’t care what else it is you do. You could get a second signet, secretly pick off military brats, or even kill someone in leadership, and I’d help you with everything. Just not this. I can’t risk putting you in danger, chara.”

It’s stunning how easily a few sentences can shut you up. Bodhi’s eyes blaze with an onyx fire that you’ve only seen once or twice throughout your life — only when he felt determined, his endless drive pushing him to the limits to do the jobs he’s meant to do.

That’s what this is. It’s not that they don’t value you — it’s quite the opposite. Bodhi values you too much, and this is the consequence of that.

You hold his gaze for a moment before you break it off, sighing quietly. “There’s no way to convince either of you to let up?”

He shakes his head. “Like I said; you could do literally anything else, and I would help you bury as many bodies as you needed me to. I would kill an army, and I’d burn a city. I just can’t let you fly out that far when people already have their eyes on you.”

His eyes search your face. “Is that enough?”

You bite down on your lip before reluctantly backing away. “Yeah,” you say quietly, averting your eyes. “I…Yeah. I still don’t like it, though.”

One of his softer smiles breaks onto his face, and he pinches your cheek gently. “I fucking despise it for you, personally,” he amends. “But I don’t break promises, and I won’t risk my best friend.”

You nod. “Fine. I’ll drop it for now.” Your eyes turn steely. “But don’t think that I won’t talk to Xaden about the same thing regarding you.”

He raises his hands innocently. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You allow him to pull you in for a tight hug before cuffing him on the shoulder. “Go see your cousin. He planned out a whole speech for when you finally manifested, and he’s been dying to give it.”

A snort leaves him. “No way.”

“Yes, way,” you deadpan. “Now shoo.”

You flop down on your back with a soft huff. Maybe you could live with the anger of not being allowed to go on weapon drops if it meant that Bodhi would rest easy for once. It wasn’t really what you preferred, but he said it himself — he made a promise to your father. You wouldn’t dare disappoint the man, even if he wasn’t alive to see the damage.

“Zephyr.”

Fuck. You curse under your breath. You’d forgotten about your little dilemma with Spéir.

“Yes?”

“Look at me, please.”

Stiffly, you sit up and make your way over to your armoire. Swinging it open, you lean against the side and face the little mirror. You stare into your own eyes, but you can easily picture her eyes spearing directly into your soul.

“I do not appreciate being blocked out like that.”

“I know,” you murmur.

“And you are not sorry?”

You almost hesitate, but hesitation would only make Spéir more disappointed.

“I regret not being honest with you,” you start slowly. “But I’m not sorry for taking time for myself.”

“Do you not think I would have helped you?” The dragon asks. “You could have blown the entire college away, had your mate not stepped in.”

“He isn’t my mate,” you remind her. “He’s my best friend. And…” You sigh. “Yeah. He got me to chill. But still, Spéir. I needed time.”

“I would have given you time,” she says gently, sending a small wave of pleasant peace down the little glowing bond. “And before you ask, I heard everything. I agree with him wholeheartedly. I will not risk having you killed for something as simple as weaponry. When you go down, I will follow with you — but that will be either in battle, or old age. Not a moment before.”

You cringe away from your reflection as your eyes take on that light violet hue for just a moment before dimming back into their natural color, Spéir making your connection more than just mental.

“Do I make myself clear, Zephyr?”

You grip the edge of the armoire door tightly. Well, now you have Bodhi and a dragon opposing you. You could kiss your determination to help goodbye.

“Crystal,” you manage, bringing a hand to cover your pounding heart. “Crystal clear, Spéir.”

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