The fact that Violet got fucked (literally), betrayed by her boyfriend, heartbroken over losing her friend, betrayed by her dragons, hurt AND poisoned all in the same day is wild. You guys complain she’s “annoying” but I think she’s not half as annoying as she could have been. Matter of fact she should’ve set Riorson House on fire as soon as she woke up and saw HER BROTHER was fucking alive. She took it too well all things considered
Garrick Tavis x Rider!Reader (given last name, Hammons)
Summary: She isn’t ready, but she's managed to survives anyway. Brittle and quiet and stubborn in all the wrong places. Bound by their dragons, Garrick is forced to train a cadet who flinches from help as much as she flinches from blows, and he can’t decide if she’s a liability or not.
Warning: none
Word Count: 1.5k
A/N: Hello! I'm back after the madhouse these past few months have been. I've had this sitting in my drafts for almost a year now and recently found it. Don't know what it could lead to but I guess we'll see. I also have more parts for my Brennan story and Dain story as well, just struggling with time management.
The sky is bright, too bright. The kind of light that makes everything feel harsher than it needs to — the heat on your back, the ache in your shoulder, the weight of your boots scraping across the packed dirt of the sparring ring.
You don't want to be here.
Not like this.
But Kyerra had pushed the thought into your head the second you finished formation. A gentle nudge. Go. Try. Survive. You hated how easily you listened.
Garrick Tavis is already waiting when you arrive. He looks exactly how you'd expect him to — like a threat. Black sleeveless training shirt clinging to the muscles across his shoulders, hair slightly damp from a run, blades strapped neatly across his back even though it's supposed to be a hand-to-hand session. Always ready. Always armed.
His eyes land on you the moment you step into the ring.
"You're late."
You barely hold back a sigh. "I'm early."
"You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago."
You press your lips together. Maybe I was hoping you'd leave. Instead, you say nothing and cross to the center of the ring. Garrick tosses you a wooden training blade. You catch it, hand closing around the hilt with more force than necessary. The familiar weight settles in your palm like disappointment.
"What's the plan?" you ask, keeping your voice as flat as possible.
He doesn't rise to the bait. "Stay alive. Improve. Build muscle memory."
"And you're here because..."
"Our dragons are mated," he says bluntly. "That makes you my problem now."
Your jaw tightens. You hate how small those words make you feel. He steps into a loose combat stance. It looks casual, but you've seen enough of him in the field to know he can kill someone in half a breath. You don't take a stance. Not yet.
"I don't need your help," you say.
"You need help," he replies, not cruelly, just factually. "You just don't like that it's coming from me."
"You've never paid attention to me before now. Why would I believe you care if I make it?"
Something shifts in his expression — not guilt, not pity. Just clarity. "Because now I have to."
The words hit harder than they should. You drop into a defensive stance, eyes on the dirt. The blade feels wrong in your hand, your stance too rigid, your chest too tight. You already know how this will go: he'll hit you, you'll fall, and it'll confirm every quiet thing you already believe about yourself.
Too slow. Too weak. Too late.
He circles you, eyes scanning your posture, your grip, your hesitation. "You're fast on your feet," he mutters. "But you don't use it. Your steps are light — that's rare. Most cadets stomp around like they're toddlers."
You don't respond.
"You should lean into that. Use your silence."
You swallow hard. It's the first compliment you've received since Threshing. It doesn't make you feel better. It makes you feel like a fraud. He comes at you with a simple forward strike — slow, deliberate. A test. You knock it away, but your balance is off, and your foot skids on the dirt.
"Again."
You reset. Move. Strike.
He blocks easily. "You hesitate before every attack."
"I don't—"
"You do."
You grind your teeth. "Maybe I'm not good at this."
"That's obvious," he says without venom. "But with time and training, you could be."
Your stomach twists. That flicker of potential — it feels worse than being ignored. Worse than being insulted. Because if you could be good, then not being good is a choice. A failure. Your fault.
He backs off, blade dropping slightly.
"Why are you fighting against this?" he asks, genuinely confused.
You blink at him. "Because I don't need anyone to hold my hand."
"I'm not holding your hand," he snaps. "I'm giving you a chance to survive."
He steps forward, frustration bleeding into his voice now. "You want to prove something? Then stop sabotaging yourself."
You step back. His words land like slaps.
"I'm not—"
"You are," he cuts in. "You're angry. I get it. You didn't want to be here. You didn't want Kyerra. You sure as hell didn't want me. But you're here. You bonded a dragon. That means you fight. You learn. You adapt."
You hate that he's right.
You hate that your eyes are starting to sting.
You hate that you can feel Kyerra in the back of your mind — quiet, calm, waiting.
You lower your blade. Your arm trembles, not from exertion but from everything else — the pressure, the noise in your own head, him.
"Fuck this."
You drop the blade to the dirt and turn away.
"Y/N."
You keep walking.
His voice sharpens behind you. "Hammons—"
You don't stop. You don't even look back. Because if you do, you'll crack. And you've already done enough of that for one day.
You shove open the gate of the sparring ring and leave it swinging behind you. The courtyard is empty. No one to see. No one to ask why your eyes are glassy or why your fists are clenched like you're holding the pieces of yourself together.
You didn't need that.
You didn't need him barking orders like you hadn't been surviving on your own for weeks. Like his sudden attention meant something. Like he was the answer to a question you never wanted to ask.
Your boots hit the stone steps unevenly as you climb them, fast, like you can outrun the burn in your chest. It's all pointless anyway. You're not strong. Not like the others. Not built for this.
You didn't earn Kyerra — she chose you for reasons you still don't understand. Garrick only started noticing you because of her, not because of anything you did. You're still the same girl who stood in the sparring circle two weeks ago and got knocked on her ass in thirty seconds flat. Dragon or no dragon.
A fluke.
That's all this is.
You make it to the empty barracks and sit down on the edge of your bunk hard, hands shaking in your lap. Kyerra is still there — warm, quiet, patient. Like she trusts you'll come back around.
You curl forward, resting your elbows on your knees. The silence presses in.
He doesn't leave the ring, not right away. He stands there in the heat, her training blade in one hand, the silence loud in the space she left behind.
Dust settles. His jaw ticks.
She dropped it like it meant nothing — like he meant nothing. Just another voice trying to bark her into submission. Another threat to ignore. He exhales slowly through his nose.
"You handled that poorly," Chradh says, his voice cutting clean through his thoughts.
Garrick's hand tightens on the hilt.
Here we go.
"She walked away," he mutters. "Wouldn't listen, wouldn't even try. What do you want me to do, beg?"
"I want you to adjust."
Garrick scoffs. "She doesn't respond to orders. Doesn't respond to anything. She's been here for months now and has barely spoken to a single squadmate. She failed her first two grappling exams. She's late to formation half the time and somehow always disappears after drills. And I've let it slide because I didn't think she'd make it past Threshing."
He throws the training blade down into the dirt, the thunk dull and unsatisfying.
"But she did."
Chradh doesn't answer. And that silence grates more than anything.
"You've been pestering me about her for weeks," Garrick says, pacing the edge of the ring now, dragging a hand down his face.
"She needs help."
Garrick grits his teeth. "That's not a reason."
"It's a truth."
He stops walking. Glares out across the empty field.
"She's a liability," he says finally, quieter now. "You know that. You've seen what I've seen."
"She's not a liability. She's unfinished."
He flexes his fingers, jaw working silently. Chradh never spoke about people like that. Not unless he saw something. And that? That's what pisses him off the most. Because Garrick can't see it.
He's been watching her now — really watching — and all he sees is a cadet flinching at every challenge, closing herself off from people who try to help. She's smart — sure. Observant. Quiet on her feet in a way that makes him take notice. But she doesn't use any of it. She holds back in sparring. She doesn't speak in tactical briefings. She avoids conflict until it lands right on top of her.
She survived Threshing.
But barely.
And now she's bonded to a dragon mated to Chradh. Which means Garrick is tied to her whether he understands her or not. Whether she wants him or not. He runs a hand over his jaw, tracing the edge of the scar. There's something in her. Something she's burying. And for whatever reason, Chradh's decided that Garrick is the one who's going to dig it out.
He exhales, grounding his hands on his hips.
"Fine," he mutters. "Fine. You want me to help her, I'll help her."
Summary: How would our Fourth Wing men react to walking in on their girl pleasuring themselves? Let's find out.
Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Masturbation. Use of pet names. Signet Use - Shadowplay. Voyeurism. Teasing/Stimulation. Oral (F receiving). Insinuated P in V unprotected Sex. Very very slight Onyx Storm spoiler (use of a line a character says).
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Garrick
This man would just walk into your room without even knocking, catching you in the act. At first you wouldn’t even notice he was there, too caught up in what you we’re doing. Eyes closed as you pleasure yourself, your brain thinking of how good Garrick had looked earlier in challenges.
Garrick would close the door behind him quietly, his eyes completely focused on you and what you’re doing. His eyes watching every move you make, listening to the little moans and gasps coming from your lips. He’d be content on watching till just the right moment to make his presence known. Which is when his name falls from your lips.
He walks over to your bed, quietly removing his shirt and boots so he doesn’t alert you to his presence, before kneeling next your bed and pulling you towards him. Garrick chuckles as you shriek with surprise before trying to scramble away and cover yourself.
He’d tighten his grasp on your hips before standing up and leaning over you, pinning your wrists above your head as he looks down at your. “Where do you think you’re going sweetheart? You can’t moan my name like that and not expect me to do something about it.”
Before you can respond Garrick kneels back down and continues what you’d stopped, his fingers and mouth having you moaning and gasping before coming all over them multiple times.
Bodhi
He’d also just walk in, but unlike Garrick he would not be as subtle about it. He’d walk in, look over at your bed, eyes going wide as he scrambles to shut the door behind him with a loud bang which startles you.
Bodhi just stares at you with his hand still on the door he’s slammed shut. Torn between shocked and turned on at what he’s walked in on you doing, which causes you to giggle at him as you get up and walk over to him.
His eyes trailing over your naked body as you walk over to him, still unsure how to react to what he saw. He’s also a little hurt you had resorted to pleasuring yourself. But he was meant to be gone on a supply run till tomorrow.
Just as you get to him he’d snap out of it, grabbing your arm before he spins you both around, pinning you to the door before he kneels in front of you. Smirking up at you as he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, exposing you to him.
“Don’t worry darling, I’m here to take care of you now.” He tells you before devouring you.
Xaden
He’d know what you were up to before he even walked in to the door. He’d sneak in so he wouldn’t disturb you, leaning up against the door as he watches you pleasure yourself. Listening to the little noises you’d make while you pleasure yourself.
He wouldn’t walk over to you, instead he’d try something a little different. He’d control his shadows, slowly creeping them towards you so you wouldn’t be alerted to their presence and therefore his. Slowly they’d caress your body, adding to what you’re doing.
After a while Xaden wouldn’t be able to help himself and would make his presence known. His shadows no longer being soft and gentle. Instead they would wrap around your wrists, pulling them above your head as your eyes snap open and meet Xaden’s onyx eyes as he leans over you.
“So desperate. Not even a night and you’re already pleasuring yourself.” He’d teases as his shadows caress your body, causing you to tug at the one’s holding your wrists captive before you throw your head back and moan as they caress between your legs. “Now let me show you how it’s actually done.”
Liam
He’d close the door behind him lean up against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and smirk at the sight before him.
“Well, what do we have here?” He’d tease, not even trying to hide the fact he’s walked in on you.
You go to cover yourself up at the shock of Liam walking in on you, but he rushes forward and stops you, a soft smile on his lips as he looks down at you, his blonde hair flopping into his eyes.
“Don’t stop on my behalf love.” He’d say softly before kneeling between your legs, shrugging off his jacket and shirt. “We’re just getting started.”
He’d pull you back down the bed towards him as you yelp and giggle at his actions, before leaning in and placing soft kisses on your inner thigh before continuing what you’d started.
Dain
He’d be about to walk in, hand on the door handle when he’d hear you cry out. He’d mistake it for you being in pain and rush in ready to help you, but stop mid stride as your eyes snap open and meet his while you’re fingers are still inside you.
“Close the door!” You’d shriek at him, grabbing a pillow to throw at him before he quickly shuts the door, even though it’s later at night and no one is out in the halls. “I thought you were on patrol tonight?”
That was the only reason you’d chosen to do what you were doing. You were needy, had been craving him after watching him win his challenge with ease. But he’d been assigned patrol tonight, and you knew he wouldn’t drop it for the fact you were horny and desperate for him. So you’d done what you always did when he had a late night patrol.
“They had too many people on so they gave me the night off.” He tells you as he walks over to you. He reaches out and cups your cheek, not intending to read your thoughts, but because he’s so tired his shields aren’t as strong as they usually were. And he gets an insight to your thoughts. And he see’s this is not the first time you’ve done this.
“Do you do this every time I have patrol?” He says with shock, not expecting this to be a regular occurrence.
You bite your lip and nod as you aver your eyes from his, not sure if he’s angry that you do this regularly. It’s not your fault he looks so good taking on his opponents during challenges and always has patrols the same night.
“Eyes on me.” He tells you as he grips your chin and turns your head back towards him, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “Let’s get you taken care of.”
Brennan
He’d walk in as per normal, completely run down and tired from a day dealing with the assembly, shrugging out of his clothes. He’d look up, seeing your bed empty. You’d clearly been here though, the sheets messed up as if you’d gone to lie down.
Then he hears it. Your soft moans echoing from the bathroom door that’s open ever so slightly. The sound already having him hard and wanting you even with how tired and drained he is.
He pushes open the door to see you sat in the bathtub facing away from him, head thrown back over the edge with your eyes shut as you moan and shiver.
As he gets closer he can hear the water running, but the bath sounds suspiciously empty. And that’s when he see’s why you’re sat the way you are. The water is on, but it’s purpose is not to fill the bath. It’s to pleasure you, while you pump your fingers in and out. He can’t deny he’s not impressed by your creativeness.
He leans over the bathtub, being careful not to touch you as he turns the water off. Your eyes fly open, meeting Brennan’s amber eyes as he braces himself on the edge of the bathtub and looks down at you.
“Look at you being creative in my absence.” He teases as he reaches out and caresses your cheek, his thumb running over your swollen lip where you’ve tugged and dragged it though your teeth. “Now lets get you dried off so I can finish what you’ve started.”
Aaric
He would not be subtle about walking in on you. You wouldn’t hear him walk in, but he’d make his presence known. He’d stand there, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at you.
“Well, what do we have here.” He’d tease, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lips as you startle at his words, sitting upright as you scurry back on your bed clutching your chest till you realise it’s Aaric in your room.
He’d walk over to your bed, slowly taking off his boots, jacket and shirt before slowly undoing the ties of his pants and pushing them down his legs, watching as you squirm under his gaze before he kneels on your bed.
He’d grasp your ankles, pulling you towards him as you yelp in surprise. He’d push your legs apart before positioning himself between them and leaning over you as he braces himself on your bed with a hand either side your head.
He’d rock back and forth, the head of his dick slowly back and forth, teasing you as you squirm beneath him. “Someone’s needy tonight.” He’d murmur against your lips.
“P-please Aaric.” You’d beg as he continues to slowly rock back and forth, sometimes pushing the tip in just a little bit before pulling back out and going back to what he was doing.
“Please what? Use your words sweetheart.” He’d tell you, wanting you to beg for him. He might despise his father and everything his family stands for. But he can’t help but crave the way you beg and plead for him to please you.
And finally you do, begging him to fuck you, to ruin you. To give you what you’d been imagining in your mind before he walked in. “Good girl.”
