Prompt 53 with Garrick pretty please?! I’m obsessed with your writing…AGH
(Photos courtesy of Pinterest)
Summary: "Don't say things like that unless you mean them."
Authors Note: Thank you so much! I am just as obsessed with this man <3
It had always been uncomplicated with Garrick.
At least, that’s what the two of you pretended.
Just him showing up at your door late at night with that lazy grin that always made your stomach flip, and you letting him in every single time.
Because Garrick had already graduated.
Because you still had another year at Basgiath.
Because riders died all the time, and getting attached to someone too deeply felt dangerously stupid.
And several other reasons you told yourself after the third time.
So instead, you settled into this strange in-between.
Friends who touched each other too much.
Who kissed like they had something to prove.
Who kept finding excuses to come back.
And now, with whispers of unrest spreading through Navarre and tension hanging thick through the college halls, everything feels sharper somehow.
The incoming threat of the attack hangs heavy in the air, tangled up with the choking stench of fear. Riders, healers and infantry cadets move through the halls with sharp, chaotic energy.
Like everyone suddenly understands how fragile everything really is and that tomorrow might not be guaranteed.
You’re standing on one of the outer balconies overlooking Basgiath when you hear footsteps behind you.
You don’t even have to turn around.
Garrick’s voice slides over your skin warm and familiar.
You lean against the stone railing. “Maybe I just wanted five minutes where nobody’s panicking.”
He hums softly in agreement before stepping beside you.
For a while, neither of you speak.
The wind catches his dark hair, and you glance at him from the corner of your eye.
He looks stressed, worried and tired, more tired than you’ve ever seen him.
Something twists painfully in your chest.
“You okay?” you ask quietly.
His eyes flick toward you.
You roll your eyes a little, but your pulse betrays you.
Because that look in his eyes—
It’s too intense. Too serious.
Before you can think better of it, you step closer and fix the crooked collar of his jacket, brushing your fingers over the worn leather.
“You should try and get some sleep before it starts,” you murmur.
His hand catches your wrist gently before you can pull away.
The touch is careful, almost hesitant, which is so unlike Garrick that it immediately makes your stomach tighten.
He stares at you for a long moment, jaw tense like he’s fighting with himself.
The world seems to stop around you.
Nothing except the way he’s looking at you like he’s finally saying something he’s been holding back for far too long.
You let out a soft disbelieving laugh, mostly because your heart is suddenly trying to beat its way out of your chest.
“You don’t have to say that because everything’s about to go to shit.”
His brows pull together immediately. “That’s what you think this is?”
“I think,” you say carefully, trying and failing to keep your voice steady, “that people say reckless things before battles.”
His grip on your wrist tightens slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you there.
“I’ve been in love with you for months.”
He actually looks offended.
“Completely and utterly gone.”
You shake your head faintly, overwhelmed. “Don’t say things like that unless you mean them.”
The words come out smaller than you intended.
Because the truth is, Garrick has always had this terrifying ability to make you want things you promised yourself not to want.
Something in his expression softens instantly.
Close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him.
Close enough that your breathing tangles together as you raise your head to meet his eye as he towers over you.
“I mean it,” he says again, quieter this time. “I mean every fucking word.”
Your heart stutters violently.
"I just kept telling myself not to say it because the timing’s shit and you deserve more than whatever this has been. But every time I've had to walk away from you, it's almost killed me."
His forehead rests lightly against yours.
"And I'll be damned if I don't tell you now, right before thing's are about to go to shit. I may never get another chance—"
Garrick's suddenly voice catches and he takes a deep breath and stops and watches your face to gauge your reaction.
“You’re an asshole for doing this to me,” you whisper weakly.
A grin tugs at his mouth. “Doing what?”
“Making me fall in love with you back.”
A soft laugh escapes him, but there’s something emotional underneath it.
“Let me make up for it then.”
Then his hand slides up to cup your jaw.
There’s nothing casual about it.
Nothing teasing or half-hearted like all the stolen kisses before this.
This kiss feels devastatingly deliberate.
Like he’s trying to pour every unspoken feeling into it.
His mouth moves against yours slowly at first, almost careful, before the restraint breaks completely when he feels you kiss him back. He kisses you deeper, more desperate, one hand sliding around your waist to pull you flush against him.
You make a small sound against his mouth, fingers gripping the front of his jacket.
He kisses you like he means it, like he’s been wanting to do this properly for a very long time.
When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing harder.
Your forehead falls against his.
“You picked a hell of a time to tell me,” you murmur.
His thumb brushes softly across your cheek.
“The possibility of losing you tends to put things into perspective.”
Emotion swells painfully in your chest.
So instead of saying anything, you kiss him again.
And this time, when Garrick smiles against your mouth, you realise neither of you are pretending anymore.
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