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@luvly-writer
Welcome to my blog
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Spoiled sweet tooth
Garrick Tavis X reader
Masterlist
Author's note: Thank you to all who have enjoyed this series! The love you all have given it is overwhelming and I wouldn't have it any other way. Lots of love to all of you! Like always, here's bunch of cute moments to close the story.
As for updates on other stories, they will be under "construction". This semester is my last one of university (which is both sad and exciting), I will be in many competitions, doing an internship, and just focusing on my daily life/relationhips so once again updates will be slow. I took so long to appear again cause i was in an international competition, then doing the press tour and panels and confereces so life was hectic as hell. Love you all, and cant wait for more.
They’re all gathered around the training grounds, weapons out, dragons nearby. Y/n walks up to Garrick mid-conversation with Bodhi and Xaden and without even looking at him, shoves her weapons—two daggers and a training blade—into his hands.
“Hold this,” she says.
He does. No questions asked.
Xaden lifts a brow. “You’re just gonna—”
Garrick shrugs, watching her tie her curls back. “Yeah.”
Bodhi whistles. “Damn, bro. She didn’t even ask nicely.”
Garrick doesn’t even look at them. “Didn’t have to.”
Y/n turns around and flashes a smile over her shoulder at him. He smiles back, soft and completely gone. Xaden mutters, “You’re a lost cause.”
"Just like you with Violet"
Violet walks into the common room and pauses. “Are you braiding her hair?”
Garrick is seated cross-legged on the floor with Y/n between his legs, his calloused fingers gently weaving through her curls. “Yep,” he says casually, concentrating.
“She made him restart it three times,” Rhiannon whispers, trying not to laugh.
“I didn’t like the tension,” Y/n says without apology.
"I dodn’t mind,” Garrick replies, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
Xaden walks in, sees the scene, and just gives a long suffering sigh. “Whipped.”
Garrick presses a kiss to the top of Y/n’s head and doesn’t argue.
One morning, they’re all prepping for a scouting mission. Y/n is standing off to the side, rubbing her hands together against the cold.
Garrick notices immediately. He walks up to her without a word, takes off his gloves, and gently pulls her hands into his, rubbing warmth into them.
“Better?” he asks.
Y/n nods and kisses his cheek in thanks. Garrick grins like he just won a war.
Bodhi shakes his head. “Do you even feel the cold anymore, lover boy?”
Garrick, still holding her hands: “She’s warmer. That’s all I care about.”
At dinner, Y/n eyes the last sweet roll on the table. She doesn’t say anything. Just looks at it.
Garrick sees.
Before she even finishes her glance, he’s grabbed it and placed it on her plate.
Y/n beams. “Thanks, baby.”
Garrick grins like he won the godsdamned sun.
Violet stares between them. “She didn’t even say a word.”
“She didn’t need to,” Garrick says, brushing crumbs off her cheek like it’s second nature.
In the end, whenever someone tries to tease him—especially Bodhi or Xaden—Garrick just smiles, all smug and warm.
“She’s happy,” he always says. “That’s all that matters.” And no one can argue with that.
Because it’s true: whatever his baby wants, his baby gets.
Garrick taps her shoulder when no one is paying attention and leans in with a soft, quiet: “Can I have a kiss?”
Y/n turns, cups his cheeks with both hands, and kisses him once. Then again. And again. And again—each one getting slower and sweeter—until finally she presses a long, warm, lingering kiss to his lips.
When they part, Garrick’s eyes are closed, like he’s basking in sunlight.
Xaden mutters, “I asked Violet for water once and she just handed me a canteen filled with ice cause she was pissed.”
After a hard day—long ride, close call in the skies—Garrick doesn’t say a word. He just finds Y/n, sinks into her space, and lays across her like a big golden retriever of a man.
She doesn’t even flinch. Her nails immediately go to his scalp, running through his hair just right, and the groan that escapes him is so satisfied it makes Ridoc snort out his drink.
Then she trails her nails down his back in soft, slow patterns and Garrick just melts into her like gravity doesn’t apply anymore.
“He’s literally purring,” Bodhi whispers.
Violet shushes him. “Let them have their moment.”
They’re standing in line for briefing, the sun beating down, tempers short. Garrick slips behind Y/n and hooks his arms around her shoulders lazily.
Instead of shrugging him off or complaining about the heat, Y/n leans back into him with a small hum, her hands covering his forearms.
The tension on Garrick’s face instantly fades.
Xaden watches them for a full ten seconds before muttering under his breath, “How the hell are they always in sync like that?”
Violet smirks. “It’s disgusting, isn’t it?”
Rhiannon sighs. “Yeah. I want it.”
Sometimes, when Garrick’s tired or zoned out, he just turns to look at her like she’s the only thing grounding him.
Y/n, without missing a beat, reaches up and gently brushes his hair from his face or cups his cheek. No words. No questions. Just touch.
And he always smiles. Every single time.
Bodhi once said, “I swear she has a remote control for him.”
But the truth is—Y/n just knows Garrick, and Garrick just melts for her. And everyone sees it.
They're the kind of couple who don’t just love each other—they spoil each other in their own perfect ways.
And if you’re standing too close, prepare to get hit by either a heart-melting display of affection… or the overwhelming urge to scream into the void from how unfairly sweet they are.
The war room was full but focused. Maps sprawled out across the central table, magical markers pulsing over territory lines and projected flight paths. Y/n stood at the front, her arms crossed and brow furrowed in concentration as she explained the strategy for the next rotation of border patrols.
Her voice was steady, her tone sharp, and everyone was paying attention… Well—mostly everyone.
Garrick, seated off to the side between Bodhi and Ridoc, had his eyes glued to her like she was made of stars.
Ridoc noticed first. He nudged Bodhi and tilted his head toward Garrick dramatically, lips barely containing a grin. “Oh no,” Ridoc stage-whispered. “He’s doing it again.”
Bodhi leaned forward, catching the expression on Garrick’s face. “Yup. That’s the heart eyes. Textbook.”
Ridoc slapped a hand over his chest like he’d been shot. “My gods, we’ve lost him. He’s completely compromised. Do we even tell command? He’s useless now.”
Garrick didn’t even blink. He just winked at Y/n when she glanced over mid-briefing, and her lips twitched up in a private, glowing smile.
Sloane, sitting near Violet and Rhiannon, caught the whole exchange and snorted. “They’re disgusting. So cute. But disgusting.”
Violet leaned in and whispered, “He really does look like he’d marry her on the spot if she asked.”
“He probably would,” Rhiannon said with a smirk. “And she wouldn’t even have to ask.”
Meanwhile, Y/n turned back to the map, completely unfazed on the outside—but the little flush at the top of her cheeks gave her away.
And Garrick? Still completely useless. But very in love.
The sun had dipped low, casting a warm golden glow over the courtyard behind the Aretian estate. The team had gathered after drills, relaxing for once—armor off, weapons sheathed, laughter bubbling in the air.
Garrick had his arms around Y/n, her back pressed into his chest as they sat on a low stone ledge near the gardens. She was grinning, trying (and failing) to wiggle away as he peppered kisses along her cheek and jaw.
“Stop—stop, that tickles,” she giggled, breathless, her curls brushing his face.
“Can’t help it, future Mrs. Tavis,” he murmured against her skin, voice low and full of mischief.
Y/n laughed louder, her hands covering her face. “You’re delusional.”
Garrick grinned. “Delusionally in love with you, maybe.”
Ridoc, from where he was lounging on the grass with Bodhi and Sawyer, groaned loudly. “Absolutely not. No. If anyone calls her Mrs. Tavis, I’m revolting. She’s a Gamlyn first—her chaos runs too deep for your last name to contain it.”
Y/n just turned her head to stick her tongue out at him. “You’ll still love me.”
“Unfortunately,” Ridoc muttered, though his grin betrayed him.
Off to the side, near the edge of the courtyard where Sloane and Imogen stood, the laughter faded for one of them.
Imogen had a faint smile on her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her gaze lingered on Garrick and Y/n—their laughter, the way he looked at her like she was the most breathtaking thing in existence, the ease with which they teased about forever despite everything happening around them.
It shouldn't hurt. She'd let go of the idea of Garrick long ago—or at least, she thought she had. But the pang that bloomed in her chest said otherwise.
She’d always assumed… hoped, even, that whatever he had with Y/n might burn fast and fizzle out. That the age gap would show. That maybe he’d realize she was too young, too wild, too reckless.
But watching him now—completely smitten, his arm curled around Y/n’s waist, laughter pressed into her skin—it was clear.
He wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was she.
Imogen blinked and looked away, folding her arms as she pasted a smile back on.
“They’re cute,” Sloane said quietly beside her.
Imogen nodded. “Yeah. Stupidly so.”
But her chest still ached. And she hated how much it did.
Y/n paced the room, hands gesturing wildly as she ranted about the latest tactical update.
“I told them the eastern ridge was vulnerable! But no, no one listens until someone nearly gets barbecued, and now—Garrick!” she half-scolded, half-laughed, as he tugged her gently back against his chest.
“I’m not doing anything,” Garrick said innocently, resting his chin on her shoulder, arms snaking around her waist.
“You’re literally pulling me into your arms while I’m trying to focus,” she said, laughter sneaking into her voice as she tried—and failed—to resist leaning into him.
“I’m not distracting you,” he murmured, the smile clear in his tone. “Keep going, I’m listening.”
Y/n tried to refocus, even as his lips brushed the corner of her mouth. “So then I told Ridoc that—Garrick, stop—that if he rerouted the flank without—Garrick!”
“I’m not distracting you,” he repeated smugly, pressing a kiss just beneath her jaw.
Y/n giggled, squirming slightly in his grip. “You are so distracting.”
He kissed her neck again, slow and teasing. “I’m not. I’m fully engaged in your very serious rant.”
“Oh really?” she turned slightly, still smiling. “What was I saying, then?”
Garrick smirked, not missing a beat. “You said the eastern ridge was vulnerable, no one listened, someone almost got flambéed, and now you're mad at the poor tactical decisions being made by emotionally stunted man-children.”
Y/n blinked. “...Damn.”
Garrick grinned and kissed her neck again. “Told you. I always listen to you.”
She turned fully to face him, eyebrows raised, impressed and flustered all at once. “Well. Can’t argue with that.”
He hummed softly, mocking her little thoughtful sound, and then leaned in to kiss her—deep, slow, and full of affection.
When they pulled apart, she was breathless, cheeks flushed.
“I still have more to rant about,” she murmured.
“Then you better stay close,” he whispered with a smirk, “so I don’t accidentally distract you again.”
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Your voice in my thoughts
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist
The late afternoon sun spilled golden warmth across the training field, where Y/n stood off to the side with Violet, Rhiannon, and Sloane. Her dark curls were pulled back loosely, a few tendrils sticking to her temples from exertion as she stretched her arms above her head, laughing at something Violet said. Garrick leaned against the rail with Xaden beside him, watching her with a lazy smile playing at the edge of his mouth.
“She’s doing better,” Xaden noted, arms folded as his eyes flicked between Y/n and Garrick. “Power’s holding steady.”
“Yeah,” Garrick said, still watching her. “She’s been back to sparring like nothing happened.”
Xaden glanced sideways at him, one brow lifting. “So… have you tried it yet?”
Garrick blinked. “Tried what?”
Xaden’s smirk was borderline devilish. “The bond. Ailith and Chradh are mated. You’ve got a connection now, whether you’ve used it or not.”
Garrick tilted his head, skeptical. “And you’re encouraging this?”
Xaden shrugged. “I’m not encouraging. I’m just saying it’s a tool. A very entertaining one, if used well.” He paused. “Besides, Violet said Y/n’s been trying to figure out how to do it for days.”
Garrick chuckled, gaze slipping back to where Y/n was now stretching her back, arms behind her as she arched slightly—unaware of the quiet fire she was lighting in his chest. “You think I should flirt with her in her head?” he asked, already grinning.
“I know you should,” Xaden said dryly.
Garrick closed his eyes for a breath, reaching through his bond with Chradh—focusing, searching, until a new thread shimmered faintly at the edge of his consciousness. Not his. Not Chradh’s. Something warmer, electric, familiar.
Y/n.
And then, with a grin, he sent the thought:
“You keep stretching like that and I’m gonna need to drag you back to my room again. For your safety, obviously.”
Across the clearing, Y/n squeaked. Visibly. Her entire body jolted as if struck by lightning, and her head snapped toward him, eyes wide and face instantly turning crimson.
The girls went silent before breaking into laughter.
“Oh my gods,” Violet said between giggles, “he finally used the bond, didn’t he?”
Y/n pressed her hands to her cheeks and nodded furiously, eyes still locked on Garrick, who was smirking like he’d won a war.
“What did you say to her?” Xaden asked, laughing—a rare, genuine sound that caught even Garrick by surprise.
Garrick just shrugged and said smoothly, “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
Back across the field, Y/n turned to Violet, Rhiannon, and Sloane, muttering, “How the hell do you find the pathway back?! I need to retaliate!”
Violet patted her shoulder sympathetically. “Welcome to the chaos.”
And from then on, no one—not even Xaden—doubted that those two were fully bonded in more ways than one.
They were supposed to be training. Supposed to be focused. But Y/n was currently standing still, eyes narrowed and cheeks bright red as she tried for the fifth time to concentrate on her mental tether to Garrick.
“Okay,” Violet said, voice patient but amused, “close your eyes, breathe, and feel for the thread between you and Ailith first. Then—”
“—then think about how you sounded the last time I had you under me?” Garrick’s voice slid through the bond like silk, warm and wickedly smooth.
Y/n whimpered.
“GARRICK!” she hissed out loud, face flaming. Rhiannon and Sloane burst out laughing.
Violet cracked a grin. “Garrick,” she called teasingly across the field. “We are trying to help her connect.”
“I am helping. Just… emotionally.” Garrick’s voice echoed in Y/n’s mind, smug as hell.
Y/n gritted her teeth, eyes shut again as she tried to tune him out and focus. “Okay. I can do this. I can do—”
“You looked so pretty straddling me, baby. The way you—”
“OH MY GODS!” she shrieked, stomping her foot like a frustrated child as her face turned scarlet again.
The girls howled.
“You’re evil,” Y/n groaned, tugging at her curls. “My cheeks feel like they’re burning.”
Violet wiped away a tear, breathless from laughing. “Honestly, at this point it’s less ‘coaching’ and more ‘emotional support group.’”
Across the training yard, Garrick leaned casually against a post, arms crossed and a smug, satisfied smirk etched across his lips. He winked slowly at Y/n when she glared at him like she was imagining throttling him.
Xaden, who had been quietly observing with a raised brow, snorted. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”
“She’s adorable when she’s flustered,” Garrick said, grinning.
Y/n turned back to the girls, hands on her hips. “I swear on Ailith, once i get the hang of this, I’m weaponizing this bond right back.”
“Please do,” Garrick’s voice drawled in her head again. “I’ll be waiting to hear your delightful voice in my head.”
Y/n squeaked.
Violet was crying from laughter now. “Oh, stars. We’ll never get through practice at this rate.”
And they didn’t. Not when Garrick kept whispering wicked things into Y/n’s mind — and certainly not when her every flustered expression made him fall even harder.
Garrick was tugging off his shirt, muscles rippling, about to head toward the bathroom when his door slammed open with force.
Y/n stormed in like a tempest, wild curls bouncing, eyes dark with intent.
“Y/—” She cut him off by grabbing the front of his half-lifted shirt and crashing her lips to his. It was messy. Hot. All tongue and need and the bite of her teeth on his lower lip that made him groan into her mouth, his shirt falling to the floor, forgotten.
He barely registered walking — or maybe stumbling — back a few steps before her hands were fisted in his hair, her mouth already dragging down to devour his neck.
“This,” she murmured breathlessly against his skin, “is what happens when you spend the entire day riling me up through that godsdamned bond.”
Garrick laughed, deep and low, even as his hands gripped her hips. “Not complaining.” With a flick of his fingers, a quiet hum of power rippled through the room, locking the door behind her. “Shower can wait. I’d much rather indulge in your wrath.”
He started to pull her closer, but Y/n gave him a wicked grin and pushed him hard toward the bed. He landed with a low grunt and a grin spreading across his face.
“You’ll get the hang of the bond soon,” he teased, propping himself on his elbows as she climbed over him.
“Shut up,” she breathed, straddling him.
His smile only grew. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her fingers splayed over his chest, her lips already on his again — slower now, but no less heated — and when his hands slid beneath her shirt, her breath hitched.
Clothes were a fleeting thing. Time blurred. Hands roamed. Kisses deepened. Breath tangled and limbs intertwined beneath soft sheets, skin to skin, hearts racing in unison.
And eventually, when the world faded into quiet sighs and warmth, all that remained was Garrick pressing a lazy kiss to Y/n’s shoulder, the two of them tangled in each other, the bond between them glowing faintly — content and sated.
The next day, Garrick was lounging in the dining hall, half-listening to Xaden while working through his meal. The air was casual, calm—until it wasn’t.
Y/n spotted him across the room, chatting and completely unguarded. She leaned back in her seat beside Violet, her expression sweet, innocent to anyone who didn’t know her. But the glint in her eyes? That was pure chaos.
She’d found it—the bond. Finally. And now? Now it was her turn.
Her voice slipped into Garrick’s mind like silk over skin—low, sultry, and sinfully vivid in its imagery. Flirty. Dirty. Absolutely intentional.
Garrick froze, fork halfway to his mouth before he choked on a bite of food.
Xaden blinked, startled, then smacked Garrick hard between the shoulder blades. “What the hell—?”
Y/n sat a few tables away, looking smug and proud as she bit into a piece of fruit, watching it all unfold.
Violet turned just in time to see the moment Garrick’s eyes shot toward Y/n, and laughed. “Oh no. What did she say?”
“Too much,” Garrick muttered—still coughing—and immediately snapped through the bond: “Do you want to kill me, woman?”
Y/n, smug as ever, blew him a kiss across the room. She didn’t even flinch when Xaden turned to stare at her, a smirk creeping onto his own face.
Once Garrick finally took a sip of water and got his breathing under control, he narrowed his eyes at her—fond, amused, undone. “You’re being punished for that later.”
Her reply came instantly, syrup-sweet and devilish in his head: “Promise?”
Garrick leaned back, shaking his head with a low laugh, hopelessly in love with the boldest, cheekiest girl he’d ever known.
Taglist: @annamariereads16 @yuelhua @littlepippilingstocking @poisonivy2267 @i-am-infinite @luvmybbies @bwormie @40nights @nikfigueiredo @plants-world @rainingrainbow @-izzy-rose- @electronictimetravelninja @wolfbc97 @wolfplague @86laura11 @sleepysaffi @lxnvmvrzx @ireads @the-fandom-ness @shadowmararurader @immortaliaslane @littowl @xxbelaa @babypeapoddd @anerolt1014 @cayla0000 @xelladarlingx @friend8142-blog @lily-11-11 @migueloharaswife @interphellar @makridesdragons @whyuclouidingmymind @reallycrispysheep @dreamloud4610 @fhurcv @alittlelostalittlefound @freyagallileaevans @jellybean0724 @spideyswebshooters @asteria1103 @riotbound @whitewineandpumpkins @thisempty-yeet @lovely-blackinnon @aisudbfisudbv @believinghurts @laterria201 @giana1508 @friend81420-blog @pit-and-the-pen @xoxroxie @hallelujan-aries @officially-me @softforap @aestoria @jbetches @ivy-34 @aceepee
Fallen Pains
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist
The chaos of battle thundered around them—lightning cracking in the distance, flame scorching across wyvern wings, metal clashing against shadowy limbs. Garrick ducked a strike, his sword slicing clean through a venin before he turned, eyes scanning the sky, the field, the ridgelines.
But Y/n wasn’t there.
“Chradh,” Garrick called through the bond, his voice taut with unease. Where’s Ailith? Where’s Y/n?
A pause. Then a wave of unease—worry—echoed back through his dragon's mind. Garrick’s stomach sank.
She’s looking, Chradh rumbled. She’s been looking. She lost her rider. She doesn’t know where Y/n is.
Garrick froze mid-swing, heart plummeting. “What?”
He dodged a wyvern’s claw, his brain reeling. That wasn’t just a mistake. That wasn’t something that happened to Y/n Gamlyn.
Y/n didn’t just disappear.
She was one of the best riders they had—tight control, unmatched balance, keen awareness. And a brilliant strategist. She planned for chaos. She thrived in it. And she never—never—left her dragon without reason.
He landed beside Chradh as the tide of battle turned, lightning splitting the sky thanks to Violet and her squadron. The venin began to retreat. But Garrick’s stomach only churned harder as each rider landed and Y/n wasn’t with them.
He waited.
Waited.
Nothing.
His eyes locked with Ridoc’s across the field, and Ridoc’s usual battle-born grin faded the second he saw his friend’s expression.
“Where’s Y/n?” Ridoc asked, voice already too tight.
Garrick shook his head. “I don’t know. Chradh doesn’t know. Ailith doesn’t know.”
The silence that followed felt like the world holding its breath.
“What do you mean Ailith doesn’t know?” Violet demanded, approaching with her brows furrowed and her hair still crackling with residual energy.
Garrick’s jaw clenched. “Chradh says Ailith lost her in the air. A wyvern hit hard. She’s been searching ever since.”
The shock rippled outward. Even Xaden, who had just landed near Brennan, turned sharply at the words.
“She fell?” Brennan repeated, disbelief coloring his voice. “Y/n fell?”
Garrick’s voice dropped. “She wouldn’t fall. Not unless something made her. And even then…she would’ve found a way back. She always finds a way back.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Too heavy.
And suddenly the battlefield, even quieted by retreat, felt more dangerous than ever.
Because if someone like Y/n was gone—truly gone—then something worse than wyvern or venin had come into play.
And they had no idea what it was.
The moment the call was made, every rider was in the air.
Wings beat furiously against the wind as the squadron mounted, rising into the sky with singular purpose. No one needed to speak it aloud—they had to find her. Garrick’s jaw was tight as he gripped the reins, Chradh’s massive wings slicing through clouds.
Below them, the battlefield was a smear of blackened ground and scorched trees. But Garrick wasn’t looking down. He was scanning the horizon. The treetops. The cliffs. Anything.
Then, Rhiannon’s voice crackled through the comm crystal. “East quadrant—look!”
They all turned.
There—cutting through clouds like a comet—was Ailith, her obsidian-blue scales gleaming even in the ash-gray sky. Her flight was frantic, desperate, weaving back and forth over the tree canopy as if searching every inch with pinpoint precision.
“She’s still looking,” Violet said softly. “She hasn’t stopped.”
And then—it happened.
A shriek.
Ailith’s piercing cry echoed over the mountains. All of them jerked in their seats, turning in unison as Ailith tucked her wings and began to spiral downward into a clearing below. She landed with a heavy thud, her snout pressed urgently to something on the forest floor.
“There!” Garrick didn’t wait. Chradh dove. The others followed.
Wings folded and feet slammed into earth as they landed one by one, dismounting with speed born of fear.
And then they saw her.
Y/n.
Lying in the dirt, barely breathing. Her skin was scraped and bloodied, and the ground beneath her shimmered faintly with the last residue of her dark blue power—wisps of it still glowing like embers around her fingertips.
Garrick took a step, but Chradh was already relaying the message from Ailith.
“She says Y/n used her signet. To soften the fall. She felt it.” His voice cracked.
Garrick didn’t wait for permission.
He dropped to his knees beside her, his arms sliding carefully beneath her limp frame. “Y/n—hey, hey,” he murmured, voice trembling as he gathered her gently.
A faint groan escaped her lips—pained and soft, but there. Her head lolled against his shoulder.
“She’s alive,” Garrick whispered, voice raw. “She’s alive.”
Ridoc knelt beside them, his eyes full of worry even as his hand hovered near his sister’s. “Gods, bug…”
Brennan was already beside them, assessing. His eyes were sharp. “Don’t move her more than you need to. Just bring her back to the estate—now. I need to see what kind of damage she sustained before I mend her.”
Garrick didn’t hesitate. He held her close, tighter than he ever had before, as he rose to his feet.
And as Chradh stepped forward to carry them both home, Garrick didn’t look away from her face—not once.
He’d nearly lost her.
He wasn’t going to again.
The estate’s infirmary was silent save for the steady hum of healing wards and the faint rustle of movement behind the doors.
Garrick’s hands were still stained with her blood.
He sat hunched on a bench beside Ridoc, boots scuffed with mud, sweat clinging to the back of his neck. His heart had barely slowed since the moment he saw her lying in the dirt. Ridoc paced beside him, muttering under his breath, a habit he fell into when he couldn’t scream like he wanted.
Rhiannon crossed her arms over her chest, watching the closed door with tense eyes. Violet was by her side, arms lightly brushing, her jaw tight with worry. Sloane stood behind them, silent but clearly there out of loyalty. Even Xaden leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded across his chest, a rare flicker of anxiety in his dark eyes.
When the door creaked open, they all turned as one.
Brennan stepped out, weary, a hand running through his hair. “She’s stable.”
They didn’t breathe.
“She had a few broken ribs, her left arm was fractured, and she’s definitely concussed. But I managed to mend everything. Her body’s still recovering, though. She’s going to need rest. Several days, at the very least.”
Garrick exhaled like someone had punched the air out of him. Ridoc dropped onto the bench, head in his hands.
“But,” Brennan added, “if she hadn’t used her signet—if she hadn’t managed to push that power outward just in time…” He looked toward the ground, voice grim. “She wouldn’t have survived the fall.”
That truth settled over them like a weight.
Rhiannon let out a shaky breath. “Of course she used her power. Of course she saved herself.”
“She always has,” Violet murmured, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “She’s Y/n.”
One by one, they began to retreat, quietly and reluctantly. Violet gave Garrick’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Let us know when she wakes.”
Ridoc and Garrick didn’t move.
They waited until the hall emptied again. Then they slipped inside the room.
The soft glow of wards lit the edges of her bed. She was tucked into the covers, her breathing slow and steady. Bandages still covered a few spots, and there was a faint bruise on her temple, but her face was relaxed. Peaceful.
Garrick pulled the chair up to her left side. Ridoc to the right.
Neither said anything.
Garrick reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “You scared the shit out of us, amor.”
Ridoc’s arms were crossed, his brows still furrowed. “You’re never doing that again, you hear me? If you do, I’m tying you to Ailith’s saddle myself.”
The silence remained, but something shifted. Her fingers twitched lightly under the covers.
They didn’t leave.
They wouldn’t—not until she opened her eyes.
Y/n stirred with a soft cough, her chest aching as if each breath pulled at threads not quite stitched back together. Her lashes fluttered, and with effort, her eyes opened—sluggish, heavy, but aware. The first thing she saw was Ridoc, sitting beside her bed, his arms crossed, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, yet sharp with relief.
He moved immediately, helping her shift gently to her side and holding a cup of water to her lips.
“Easy,” he murmured, tilting it slowly. “You scared the shit out of us.”
Her brow furrowed, confused, until Ridoc nodded toward the other side of the bed.
She turned her gaze, sluggishly, and saw Garrick—head tilted back against the chair, arms folded across his chest, one hand resting close to her on the edge of the mattress. He looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days.
“He had to be hauled out of here, you know,” Ridoc said with a soft smirk. “Refused to leave your side. Brennan threatened to sedate him.”
Y/n’s lips lifted slightly, a faint, tired smile forming as she closed her eyes just for a moment, then opened them again.
“Garrick,” Ridoc called softly.
No response.
Ridoc leaned across and gave him a light smack to the back of the head.
Garrick jolted, blinking awake with a muttered, “What the fuck—” before his eyes landed on her.
And then everything else disappeared.
His expression softened immediately, lit with quiet joy and overwhelming relief. “Hey, baby.”
He shifted forward, his hand coming up to gently brush her hair off her forehead, fingers light as feathers. His touch lingered there, like he was grounding himself to her.
“How do you feel?”
Y/n gave him a dry look, her voice hoarse but steady. “Like a dragon fell on me.”
Ridoc snorted. “Not far off. You were knocked out for two days after that fall. Two.”
Y/n groaned softly, sinking back into the pillow, then closed her eyes and reached out—past the walls, past the haze—searching.
Ailith?
She felt her instantly.
Warmth. Worry. Affection so fierce it almost burned.
“My sweet one,” Ailith breathed through their bond, her voice trembling slightly. “You’re awake.”
Yeah, Y/n whispered back, her eyes prickling. I’m okay.
“You are not allowed to do that again,” Ailith huffed. “You nearly stopped my heart.”
Y/n smiled softly, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye.
“I’m here,” she whispered, barely loud enough to hear.
And that was enough—for now.
The sun had started to dip, casting long shadows across the infirmary walls when Y/n shifted with a groan, scrunching her nose in frustration.
“I hate this cot,” she whined, voice low and raspy. “It’s stiff and lumpy and it squeaks every time I breathe. I miss Garrick’s bed.”
Ridoc snorted from his seat across the room, propping his boots on the wall without a care in the world. “Wow. You almost die, and the first thing you complain about is thread count. Spoiled brat.”
Y/n didn’t even open her eyes as she slowly, weakly lifted her middle finger in his direction.
Ridoc burst out laughing. “There she is.”
Garrick grinned as he reached for her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Soon as Brennan clears you, I’m taking you back to my room. You’ll heal better in a proper bed, anyway.”
Y/n hummed, pleased by the idea, letting her fingers curl loosely in his. “With proper pillows... and warm blankets... and you.”
“That last part’s non-negotiable,” Garrick murmured with a smirk.
Just then, Brennan entered the room, arms folded and brow raised as if he could feel the scheming from the hallway. “What did I walk into?”
“Her Royal Highness is whining about the quality of her accommodations,” Ridoc said dryly.
Y/n cracked one eye open. “Tell the healer I’m being emotionally abused.”
Brennan walked over, giving her a quick once-over and placing his hand gently on her wrist. He focused for a few moments, his signet shimmering faintly.
“She’s stable,” he finally announced, stepping back. “Bones mended properly, swelling’s gone down, and her signet’s not flaring anymore. She’s clear to leave the infirmary—but no training for at least a week. She needs rest.”
Before Brennan could finish his sentence, Garrick was already scooping Y/n into his arms with practiced ease, one hand behind her knees and the other at her back.
“About time,” he said, grinning as she curled into him with a satisfied sigh.
Ridoc rolled his eyes dramatically as they passed. “Stars help us. Now they’re going to be even more insufferable.”
Y/n looked over Garrick’s shoulder, smirking weakly. “You’re just mad because no one’s carrying you to bed.”
Garrick snorted a laugh while Ridoc pointed at her and muttered, “Spoiled. Rotten.”
But even then, his smirk lingered—because for the first time in days, things finally felt a little more right again.
Taglist: @annamariereads16 @yuelhua @littlepippilingstocking @poisonivy2267 @i-am-infinite @luvmybbies @bwormie @40nights @nikfigueiredo @plants-world @rainingrainbow @-izzy-rose- @electronictimetravelninja @wolfbc97 @wolfplague @86laura11 @sleepysaffi @lxnvmvrzx @ireads @the-fandom-ness @shadowmararurader @immortaliaslane @littowl @xxbelaa @babypeapoddd @anerolt1014 @cayla0000 @xelladarlingx @friend8142-blog @lily-11-11 @migueloharaswife @interphellar @makridesdragons @whyuclouidingmymind @reallycrispysheep @dreamloud4610 @fhurcv @alittlelostalittlefound @freyagallileaevans @jellybean0724 @spideyswebshooters @asteria1103 @riotbound @whitewineandpumpkins @thisempty-yeet @lovely-blackinnon @aisudbfisudbv @believinghurts @laterria201 @giana1508 @friend81420-blog @pit-and-the-pen @xoxroxie @hallelujan-aries @officially-me @softforap @aestoria @jbetches @ivy-34 @aceepee
Starving for you
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist
The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting the academy in a soft golden glow that filtered through the windows. It had been a brutal day—training drills that pushed limits, meetings that dragged, and strategic debates that left Y/n’s head spinning. But now… now she was finally where she wanted to be.
Garrick’s hands rested gently on her waist as he kissed her—soft, slow, the kind of kiss that unraveled her in the best way. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt as he nudged her back, step by step, toward his room.
He broke the kiss for a heartbeat just to murmur, “You did amazing today,” before dipping back in, his lips brushing hers like a promise. She smiled against his mouth and tugged him closer.
Her back hit the doorframe of his room and she barely registered it, too lost in the way Garrick’s hand was threading through her hair, his thumb brushing the sensitive spot behind her ear.
“I need you,” he whispered against her lips, voice hoarse.
“And you have me,” she breathed back, just as the door creaked open-
“UNTONGUE MY SISTER, TAVIS!”
The shriek nearly shook the hall.
Y/n let out a miserable groan as her forehead dropped against Garrick’s chest. “Shut UP, Ridoc!”
From down the hall, Ridoc’s voice came again, theatrical and scandalized. “There are halls! There are rules! There are BOUNDARIES!”
Garrick laughed, his chest rumbling against her cheek as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. “He’s going to give himself a heart attack.”
Y/n mumbled into his shirt, “If he does, I’m not healing him.”
“You can’t heal,” he reminded her with a chuckle.
“Exactly.”
He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, smiling softly against her hair. “You want me to tell him to shut it?”
“No,” she sighed dramatically. “Just take me inside before I burn his mattress with my signet.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Garrick grinned. “That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said.”
“I HEARD THAT!” Ridoc bellowed.
This time, both of them laughed.
The next day, Y/n sat at the edge of the training ring, arms crossed, her eyes narrowed into a deadly glare aimed straight at her brother across the field.
Ridoc, entirely unbothered, was lounging back on the grass, tossing a dagger up and catching it with lazy precision, wearing the most smug look known to man.
Violet sat beside Y/n, casually sipping water as she followed her gaze. “You look like you’re five seconds away from committing murder,” she observed dryly.
Y/n didn’t even blink. “That’s because I am. He’s being a cockblock.”
Violet choked slightly on her water, caught between amusement and disbelief. “What?”
Ridoc, still looking every inch the smug older brother, called out, “Language, Gamlyn.”
“Shut up, Ridoc,” Y/n snapped.
He just smiled wider, as if this was the highlight of his day.
“I don’t ruin it for him when he’s getting laid!” Y/n complained to Violet, exasperated.
Ridoc scoffed loudly and put a hand to his chest like he was offended. “I’m not a virgin, Y/n.”
She rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out. “Yeah, well, neither am I.”
There was a beat of stunned silence before Ridoc gasped—audibly, dramatically, with the horror of a man betrayed.
“Wait. Wait—have you already slept with Garrick?”
“No!” Y/n groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Because YOU won’t LET ME! That was the fifth time this week!”
Rhiannon and Sawyer, who had just joined Violet, exchanged wide-eyed looks before bursting into laughter.
“Oh my gods,” Ridoc muttered, shaking his head like he was trying to rid himself of the memory. “You’ve been… defiled.”
Y/n let out a sound of pure frustration and flicked a sharp, glowing blue thread of her power at the back of his head.
It smacked him with a satisfying zap, and Ridoc turned, glaring.
She just stuck out her tongue like a brat.
By now, Garrick, Bodhi, and Xaden had wandered over, having caught the tail end of the sibling spectacle.
“Do they always do this?” Rhiannon asked, still laughing.
“All the time,” Violet answered, shaking her head with a grin.
Garrick rubbed his face, trying to hide a smile. “This is what I signed up for, apparently.”
Xaden raised a brow. “You knew the job was dangerous when you took it.”
Y/n dramatically flopped against Garrick’s side, groaning. “Can someone please exile my brother?”
Ridoc just winked and said, “You’d miss me too much, baby sis.”
Y/n muttered, “Not if I finally get laid.”
And just like that, Ridoc clutched his chest and pretended to faint again while everyone else completely lost it.
Y/n strolled confidently down the hall toward Garrick’s room, the heels of her boots tapping lightly on the stone floor. She was all soft grins and anticipation—until, inevitably, Ridoc stepped into her path with that telltale smirk on his face.
“Where are you off to looking like that?” he asked, clearly ready to be the annoying big brother he was born to be.
Y/n didn’t break stride.
With a flick of her fingers, a ribbon of deep blue power snaked out from her hand and wrapped cleanly around Ridoc’s ankles, yanking his feet right out from under him.
He hit the floor with a thud and a loud, "Are you serious?!"
Y/n darted past him, calling over her shoulder, “I warned you, Ridoc!”
As she shut Garrick’s door behind her, she heard Ridoc’s muffled swearing echo through the corridor—and couldn’t help but laugh.
Garrick glanced up from where he was lying on his bed, arms tucked behind his head, looking very much like a man at peace. Amused warmth spread across his face. “You will just take him out every time now, huh?”
She grinned at the sight of him—relaxed, golden in the afternoon light, shirt half untucked and his hair a little messy. Her eyes ran down his body and back up again, slow and deliberate.
Y/n bit her lip. “What a sight.”
Garrick’s smirk deepened, and he shifted just enough to make space for her on the bed. “Room’s blocked and warded.”
Her brows lifted, and a slow, pleased smile pulled at her mouth. “Really?”
He nodded. “No interruptions. Not even dragon-level ones.”
“Well,” she purred as she walked toward him, “that means I can finally get laid by my hot boyfriend.”
She climbed onto the bed, straddling him with ease. His hands immediately slid up from her knees to her waist, fingers trailing slowly over her skin as she leaned in. Her curls tumbled down and brushed his jaw, their lips a breath apart.
He looked up at her with that boyish, smug grin and whispered, “About damn time.”
Y/n just smiled and brought her lips to his, kissing him softly at first—then deeper, both of them smiling into it like this was all they wanted tonight: each other, undisturbed.
The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, like the pull of the ocean tide. Garrick’s hands roamed her back, reverent in every touch, as though he were memorizing a map he already knew by heart. Y/n melted against him, her fingers tangled in his hair, her body finally allowed to follow the rhythm it had been aching to answer for far too long.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frantic.
It was a promise, whispered between touches and quiet moans, a silent declaration that this—they—were not just want, but belonging.
He moved with the kind of gentleness that broke something open inside her, like moonlight slipping through cracks in stone. She breathed his name like a prayer, and he whispered hers like a vow. They were heat and heartbeat, hands and breath, the slow unraveling of every wall they had built between longing and fear.
When it ended, the world was still. The only sound was the echo of their uneven breaths, tangled beneath soft sheets and cooling skin.
Garrick shifted, pulling her tightly against his chest, his face burying in the crook of her neck. His voice came muffled, low and warm against her pulse.
“If I was ruined before, I’m definitely ruined now.”
Y/n let out a breathless laugh, her fingers gently threading through the strands of his hair. “You’re such a sap,” she murmured, smiling so wide her cheeks ached.
“Only for you, sweetheart,” he whispered, and kissed the space just below her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
After a few quiet moments, he rose with a soft groan and reached for the cloth nearby. “Come on,” he said with a teasing grin as he helped her up, brushing her curls back from her flushed face. “If we don’t clean up, we’ll stick to each other.”
Y/n laughed again, the sound light and sleepy as she let him help her. There was something beautifully intimate in it—in the way he steadied her hips, in how he kissed her shoulder after pulling the blanket back over them.
Wrapped in each other and the quiet, they lay back down.
And in the stillness, it wasn’t just love. It was home.
The morning light was soft, barely peeking through the curtains of Garrick’s room, casting everything in a golden haze. The world was quiet—just the occasional rustle of leaves outside and the slow, steady rhythm of two hearts still tangled in sleep.
Garrick woke first.
It was the weight of her in his arms, the warmth of her skin pressed to his chest, the way her fingers were curled loosely at his ribs like she was afraid he’d disappear in the night.
He smiled, soft and dazed, and leaned in to press a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead. Then another to her cheek. Then her jaw.
Y/n stirred, her brow twitching ever so slightly as a contented hum slipped from her lips. She didn’t open her eyes—just let herself be pulled from sleep by the familiar shape of his mouth against her skin.
“Mornin’, sweetheart,” Garrick whispered, his voice gravelly and low, the kind of voice only she ever got to hear.
Instead of answering, Y/n sighed and tugged herself closer to him, fitting her body tighter against his like she could tuck herself into his ribs and stay there forever. Her arms wound around his waist, her cheek nuzzling the space between his neck and shoulder.
Garrick chuckled under his breath, wrapping his arms fully around her and pressing a kiss to her temple. He closed his eyes, breathing her in—salt and smoke and whatever softness clung to her even after everything.
“Not letting go today, huh?” he murmured, more to himself than her.
Y/n didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The way she held him tighter said more than words ever could.
And so, he tightened his arms around her, burying his face in her curls, and simply stayed there, holding her like she was the most sacred thing he’d ever touched. Because to him, she was.
The door creaked open—slowly, dramatically—as Ridoc prepared his expression of pure scandal, hand already half-raised to clutch his metaphorical pearls. He had rehearsed this. Had practiced the exact level of theatrical horror he would unleash upon discovering his twin defiling his best friend’s bed.
But what he found was not quite what he’d prepared for.
Garrick lay on his back, bare-chested, one arm behind his head and the other lazily trailing along Y/n’s spine. She was lying on her stomach across him, blanket barely covering her lower back, her body relaxed in sleep, using his shoulder and bicep as a pillow. His fingers moved in slow, absent shapes along her back—soft swirls, gentle lines—touches made more of reverence than lust.
The room was quiet, warm with morning light and the kind of silence that feels like trust.
It wasn’t crude.
It was intimate.
Tender.
So of course, Ridoc reacted like he’d been stabbed in the heart.
He gasped—loudly—and staggered a step back, hand clutching his chest with full dramatic flair. “I’ve been gutted!” he wailed, though neither of the couple stirred. “Defiled! Violated! Betrayed by blood!”
Garrick didn’t even flinch. He just chuckled quietly, eyes still half-lidded, fingers never stopping their soothing path along Y/n’s skin. “Door was locked for a reason, Ridoc,” he murmured.
Ridoc, hand still in the air like a fallen martyr, just backed out slowly with a horrified shake of his head, muttering something about “holy water” and “mental scars.”
The door clicked shut again.
Garrick chuckled once more, glancing down at the peaceful girl curled against him, and whispered with a smile, “Told you he’d lose it.”
The morning sun filtered into the common room as the group gathered—Sawyer, Bodhi, Rhiannon, Violet, and of course, Ridoc, who was currently glaring daggers at Y/n from across the table.
Y/n, unfazed, leaned lazily against Garrick’s side, a little smug smile on her lips. She was glowing—disheveled, satisfied, completely unbothered. Garrick had his arm draped loosely around her shoulders, tracing idle circles along her arm.
Ridoc's glare intensified. “You were defiled and smug,” he muttered darkly.
Y/n raised a brow at him, smirking. “I was warm, comfy, and happy. Get over it.”
Rhiannon, ever the instigator, grinned. “Wait, didn’t you say yesterday that Garrick wasn’t your first?”
Y/n gave a slow shrug, her smirk widening just enough to promise chaos. “Yeah.”
“So who was?” Rhiannon asked, eyes gleaming.
Y/n blinked innocently. “Luca Terros.”
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Then Ridoc choked. “LUCA?!”
Y/n hummed, all nonchalance. “Yep.”
Ridoc looked like he’d been physically struck. “WHEN?!”
Y/n tilted her head. “The summer you left for Basgiath.”
Ridoc gasped like the world had ended. “He’s one of my childhood best friends! He’s slept in our house! In our living room! Ate our food! Played tag with us!” He shot up, hands thrown in the air. “HOW COULD HE?! HOW COULD YOU?! HOW COULD YOU BOTH?!”
Violet burst into laughter, nearly spilling her tea. “Wait, you actually know him?”
“KNOW HIM?!” Ridoc screeched. “That bastard was practically our third sibling!”
Y/n, ever cool, ever amused, leaned back against Garrick and drawled, “Well, your almost sibling didn’t seem to mind me sleeping in his house.”
Ridoc made a high-pitched, strangled noise that could only be described as suffering incarnate.
Sawyer doubled over laughing. Bodhi was wiping tears from his eyes. Rhiannon looked delighted. Violet had practically collapsed onto the table.
Garrick leaned down with a grin and murmured against Y/n’s temple, “Should I be worried about your childhood flings coming back?”
Y/n gave a dreamy little sigh, nuzzling into his chest. “No,” she said, voice soft and content. “You’re the only one that matters now.”
Garrick’s smirk grew as he pulled her tighter against him, pressing a kiss to her head while Ridoc continued pacing dramatically, muttering about betrayal, dishonor, and possibly needing therapy.
Taglist: @annamariereads16 @yuelhua @littlepippilingstocking @poisonivy2267 @i-am-infinite @luvmybbies @bwormie @40nights @nikfigueiredo @plants-world @rainingrainbow @-izzy-rose- @electronictimetravelninja @wolfbc97 @wolfplague @86laura11 @sleepysaffi @lxnvmvrzx @ireads @the-fandom-ness @shadowmararurader @immortaliaslane @littowl @xxbelaa @babypeapoddd @anerolt1014 @cayla0000 @xelladarlingx @friend8142-blog @lily-11-11 @migueloharaswife @interphellar @makridesdragons @whyuclouidingmymind @reallycrispysheep @dreamloud4610 @fhurcv @alittlelostalittlefound @freyagallileaevans @jellybean0724 @spideyswebshooters @asteria1103 @riotbound @whitewineandpumpkins @thisempty-yeet @lovely-blackinnon @aisudbfisudbv @believinghurts @laterria201 @giana1508 @friend81420-blog @pit-and-the-pen @xoxroxie @hallelujan-aries @officially-me @softforap @aestoria @jbetches @ivy-34 @aceepee
Mission Accomplished?
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist
“This is it,” Y/n whispered to Ailith as she adjusted the straps on her pack. The blue dragon let out a low, rumbling purr, her massive head nuzzling gently against Y/n’s side.
“I know,” Ailith murmured through the bond. “Try not to explode with joy. It’s mildly embarrassing.” Y/n laughed and pressed a kiss to her scales. “No promises.”
Across the courtyard, Felix stood waiting, calm and collected in his usual military stance. His cloak fluttered in the breeze, and his eyes twinkled just slightly at the sight of her bounding toward him like she wasn’t about to go on her first official mission.
But Garrick and Ridoc?
Not quite so composed.
“I’m just saying, check again,” Garrick muttered as he all but hovered behind her. “Your daggers, your map, your alloy, your emergency rations—”
“Garrick,” she groaned, “I triple-checked. With Violet. You know Violet checks like she’s planning a raid.”
Ridoc was pacing near Brennan, arms flailing. “You’re seriously telling me I can’t go? I’ve flown missions with less experienced flyers! She’s my sister, for fuck’s sake!”
Brennan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Felix is her trainer. It’s his job to assess how her signet behaves in the field. You’ll just get in the way.”
“I’m offended,” Ridoc snapped. “I’m an excellent distraction!”
“Not the kind we want.”
Y/n gave Garrick one last shove toward sanity before throwing her arms around his waist. “I’ll be fine, Gar. I have Felix. Ailith. I’ve trained for this.”
“You’re only allowed to almost die once,” he mumbled into her hair.
“That’s very generous of you.”
Then she turned to Ridoc, who looked moments away from marching out anyway. She hugged him tight and whispered, “I’ll be back in a few days. I promise.”
He hugged her back fiercely, grumbling into her shoulder, “You better. Or I’m stealing your hoodie collection.”
She snorted and pulled away, mounting Ailith in one fluid motion. Felix climbed onto his dragon beside them with ease, giving a single nod of readiness.
Y/n saluted them playfully. “Try not to miss me too much!”
As she and Felix lifted into the sky, Garrick turned immediately to Brennan.
“Okay, but now I want to know why I couldn’t go.”
Brennan didn’t even look at him. “Because Felix is her instructor and the mission is classified.”
“Ailith and Chradh are mated,” Garrick stressed. “They can’t be apart too long. It’s unhealthy. Emotional distress. Fire breath. That kind of thing.”
Brennan slowly turned, eyes bloodshot, voice deadpan. “It’s two days. Your dragons will survive.”
Garrick muttered under his breath, “Tell that to Chradh.”
Brennan sighed, already walking away. “I like my head intact, Tavis. Don’t tempt fate.”
Ridoc crossed his arms beside Garrick. “Wanna bet which of them cracks first?”
Garrick looked toward the sky where Y/n had disappeared. “Chradh or me?”
Ridoc smirked. “Exactly.”
And the two of them stood there—annoyed, proud, and secretly counting down the seconds until she returned.
The sun was setting low over the ridge as Xaden and Garrick patrolled the eastern cliffs, the wind biting and the silence stretched too long for Xaden’s taste.
He cast a sidelong glance at Garrick, who rode in stiff, brooding silence atop Chradh, jaw clenched and eyes scanning the horizon like it personally offended him.
Perfect.
“Y’know,” Xaden drawled, “I’m starting to wonder if the wind up here is colder… or if that’s just you without your emotional support dragon girl.”
Garrick didn’t even blink. “I will push you off your dragon.”
Xaden smirked, fully enjoying himself. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried. But seriously—have you tried speaking to her through the bond?”
Garrick turned just slightly, raising an eyebrow. “You mean that weird ass thing you and Violet do where you’re clearly arguing without saying anything and just glaring at each other like angry cats?”
Xaden’s face flattened. “We are communicating.”
Garrick’s mouth curled into a smug smile. “Sure, man. It’s not creepy at all. Just you two lovingly staring at each other like you’re trying to melt each other's faces with your minds.”
“Glad to see your sarcasm’s still intact,” Xaden muttered, then flicked the reins. “You should try it sometime. It’s useful. And kinda fun as hell when you surprise them mid-thought.”
Garrick hummed, the humor fading just slightly from his eyes as he looked out toward the distant horizon.
“She’s been busy. Training. Flying. Missions.” He paused. “I haven’t wanted to distract her.”
Xaden gave a small nod of understanding. “Doesn’t always have to be words, you know. Just a feeling. A reminder you’re still there.”
Garrick was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded, slow and thoughtful. “Maybe I will… once she gets back.”
Xaden let the silence settle again, this time more comfortable, then cracked a grin. “Just don’t let her hear you call it ‘weird ass mind shit.’ She’ll have your ass.”
Garrick snorted. “She already does.”
They both laughed—and somewhere high above them, two dragons echoed the sound, wings slicing through the wind like a promise.
The landing platform buzzed with movement, but all noise seemed to fade the moment Ailith’s wings sliced through the sky, her shimmering form spiraling down with practiced grace. Felix dismounted first, shaking his head with amused exasperation.
“Successful mission, and she didn’t set anything on fire—unless you count the Venin’s robes,” he announced loudly as he stepped forward, the older councilman smirking. “Frankly, I’d almost say it was worth nearly getting singed. Absolutely fascinating signet. Wildly dangerous. Might take a few years off my life.”
Y/n followed close behind, hopping off Ailith and landing lightly on her feet, rolling her eyes at her mentor with a laugh. “You act like you didn’t get a thrill from it.”
Felix mock gasped. “Are you accusing me of enjoying nearly dying, Gamlyn?”
“Just saying, you didn’t look that mad when I took down that last Venin.”
They shared a knowing grin, and then her eyes scanned the crowd—locking instantly with Ridoc and Garrick, who had clearly been waiting the entire time.
The second her boots hit the ground, Ridoc was already moving. He practically tackled her into a hug, arms tight and grounding.
“You’re alive,” he muttered into her hair, before pulling back. “Now go shower, you reek like ash and adrenaline.”
Y/n laughed, shoving him back playfully. “Nice to see you too, brother dearest.”
“Ugh,” Ridoc groaned, turning away dramatically, “just don’t be disgusting with Garrick. I’m still emotionally recovering from last week.”
Y/n turned, grinning ear to ear, as she ran the last few feet and jumped straight into Garrick’s waiting arms.
“Missed me, handsome?”
Garrick didn’t hesitate. He caught her effortlessly, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist like he didn’t want to ever let go. “More than anything,” he said, right before pulling her into a kiss that melted away every second she’d been gone.
Behind them, Ridoc gagged audibly. I’m gonna lose my lunch—again. You two are so damn cheesy.”
He wandered off with a grumble, but there was a small smile on his face.
Y/n pulled back from Garrick just enough to breathe, brushing her forehead against his. “I’m back.”
Garrick smiled against her skin. “And I’m never letting you leave again.”
From behind, Felix called out to the couple with mock horror. “She’s barely back five minutes and I’ve already lost her to romance. I knew this would happen.”
Y/n just laughed, burying herself further into Garrick’s arms, her heart light and full.
LATER THAT NIGHT...
Violet wandered the halls with a slight furrow in her brow and a folder tucked under one arm. She’d been looking for Alanna for the past ten minutes—first in her dorm, then in the common rooms, even briefly considering the training yard before rolling her eyes and muttering, “Of course.”
With a knowing smirk, Violet turned down the hall toward Garrick’s room.
As she approached, a sudden burst of shrieking and laughter echoed through the door, followed by a breathless, “Garrick, stop!” and then more laughing. Violet paused mid-step, grinning. She knocked once.
“Come in!” Y/n shouted, between breathless gasps.
“No!” came Garrick’s immediate, panicked voice.
Violet, not one to be deterred, pushed the door open with a laugh—and nearly doubled over at the sight in front of her.
Garrick was straddling Y/n, who was sprawled across the bed upside-down, her head tilted toward the floor, her curls spilling like ink over the side. Her arms were flung around his neck, her chest heaving with laughter, and her face flushed from giggling. Garrick’s hands were firmly at her waist, and his face was buried in her neck, nuzzling and nipping playfully.
“You look very busy,” Violet said dryly, raising an eyebrow.
Y/n lifted her head weakly, grinning like an idiot. “He ambushed me! I was just laying here, minding my business—”
“She started it,” Garrick muttered into her neck, earning a light swat to his back that made Y/n giggle even more.
“I have a strategy question,” Violet said, shaking her head fondly. “It’s about the border rotations—”
“Does it require me leaving this room?” Y/n asked, eyes twinkling.
“No.”
“Then ask away,” she said, still trying to catch her breath as Garrick nuzzled closer.
Violet asked her question, and Y/n responded thoughtfully, even while half-pinned under her boyfriend. As she gave her answer, Garrick leaned in to whisper something low against her neck, and Y/n burst into another round of giggles, swatting at him again.
“You’re insufferable,” she wheezed.
“I’m trying to be romantic,” Garrick whispered back with a grin.
Violet rolled her eyes. “Garrick, let her breathe.”
“Can’t,” he replied smugly. “I’ve got her now. She’s mine.”
Violet just laughed and started backing out the door. “Okay, okay, I’m leaving before I witness something that makes me regret my entire life.”
Just as she pulled the door shut, she caught a last glimpse of Garrick dramatically attacking Y/n’s neck with kisses, her squealing laughter echoing down the hall, and Violet couldn’t help but smile as she walked away.
Y/n Gamlyn may have one of the most powerful and mysterious signets anyone’s ever seen… but right now, she was just a girl being loved with reckless devotion.
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As a matter of fact..
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist:
The training field was quiet, save for the steady rhythm of Aretia’s wind rustling across the stone. Y/n stood at its center, her brows furrowed in concentration. Colonel Felix paced calmly nearby, eyes sharp but patient, his silver hair tied back and his hands behind his back as he studied her like a riddle waiting to be unraveled.
Garrick leaned against one of the stone pillars a few feet away, arms crossed, his eyes never leaving Y/n. Ridoc stood beside him, equally focused, though he masked his concern behind an exaggerated yawn.
Violet sat cross-legged on the ground a little farther out, practically vibrating with interest. Her notebook was already out, pen in hand. “I swear if she can manipulate matter, I’m going to lose my mind,” she muttered under her breath.
Felix stopped in front of Y/n and gestured for her to begin. “Again,” he said, his voice low and calm. “Pull it from wherever you did the first time. Don’t chase it — let it come to you. You’ve already touched it once. Your body remembers.”
Y/n closed her eyes and took a breath. Deep. Controlled. She thought of the moment in Grevania — the panic, the instinct, the need to protect. Her fingers twitched. A humming echoed faintly in her ears, under her skin. She exhaled… and there it was.
A wisp of dark blue light coiled around her hand.
Felix stepped forward, eyes narrowing in interest. “Good,” he murmured. “Now stabilize it. Shape it.”
The energy pulsed unsteadily, like a heartbeat. Y/n clenched her jaw, focusing. Sweat prickled at her temples as she willed it to form — a ball, just a simple ball. The power fought her, slippery and heavy all at once, but with grit and stubborn precision, she shaped it.
A small orb of humming dark blue hovered above her palm, vibrating faintly like it held far more than it let on.
“Fascinating,” Felix said under his breath, clearly enthralled. “Try this.”
He reached into a pouch and retrieved a few small metallic frames — simple shapes: a ring, a cube, a spiral. He set them in the air before her using a touch of levitation. “Bend your energy around them. Let’s see if it yields to direction.”
Y/n’s brow creased. Her fingers trembled slightly as she moved the orb toward the ring first. It crackled in protest, but she narrowed her focus, biting her lip and guiding it forward. The orb flickered, then slowly wrapped around the ring’s shape like a misty mold. It took form — loosely, imperfectly, but it held.
Violet gasped. “She’s manipulating mass.”
Garrick leaned forward, one foot unconsciously moving like he’d step in if something went wrong. Ridoc muttered a soft, “Careful, Spitfire.”
Y/n shifted the orb to the cube, then the spiral. Each time with more strain, but each time with more control. When she finally released it, the energy sizzled and dissolved into the air with a quiet pop.
Felix held up a hand. “That’s enough for today.”
Y/n blinked, sweat running down the side of her face. “I can keep going—”
He shook his head. “No. Burnout will set you back. We build this slowly, deliberately.” His gaze softened just slightly. “You did well. Very well.”
Garrick was already striding toward her, a towel in hand. “You okay?”
Y/n nodded and took it, wiping her brow. “Yeah. Just… drained.”
Ridoc gave a low whistle. “You bent energy to your will. That’s not just any signet, that’s a weapon.”
“It’s more than that,” Felix said thoughtfully, still watching her. “It’s raw creation. Matter and energy. But we’ll understand more soon.”
Y/n exhaled deeply, catching Garrick’s eyes — warm, proud, steady.
He leaned closer and murmured, “You keep doing that and I might start getting jealous of your own power.”
She grinned weakly and bumped her shoulder to his. “Please. You’re lucky I let you witness it.”
“Damn right,” he said, brushing his fingers down her arm.
Violet stood, her notebook filled with notes. “I need five hours to process that.”
Ridoc raised a brow. “I need five hours to forget it before it gives me more anxiety.”
Felix just nodded once. “Tomorrow, same time. We’ll see how far this signet can go.”
Y/n looked at her hand, flexing it gently. It still tingled from the energy, from the unknown — but for the first time since it had appeared, she felt something else underneath the fear.
Control. And a hunger to master it.
Each day, the training fields grew more crowded.
At first, it had just been Garrick and Ridoc — ever-loyal, ever-watchful — and Violet, whose curiosity for signets rivaled that of the Archives. But as the weeks passed, others started to come. Professor Devera stood off to the side during her free hours, sometimes whispering observations into a journal. Xaden often arrived in silence, arms crossed, his unreadable eyes fixed on Y/n’s movements. And sometimes, Brennan showed too — drawn by a mix of professional obligation and personal intrigue.
Because what Y/n Gamlyn was doing… was unprecedented.
Each session with Felix peeled back another layer of her gift. The dark blue power no longer sputtered or sparked uncontrolled. It moved with intention, curling and shifting in ribbons around her limbs like silk caught in the wind.
Where she had once barely managed to shape a simple orb, she now flowed between forms — making whips of power, flat shields, arching spears that curved in the air. She could strike out more than four times in succession without collapse, her breath more stable now, her focus sharp.
One day, Felix handed her a dagger — solid, steel, military-issue.
“Bend it,” he said simply.
The others watched, breath held.
Y/n’s fingers curled around it. The blue energy bloomed and surged. She inhaled. Focused.
The dagger began to bend.
Not just the metal, but the very essence of it — like the power was unmaking and remaking it at once. When she finally dropped to one knee, drenched in sweat and dizzy, the dagger floated above her hand, twisted into a beautiful, deadly curve wrapped in her dark-blue glow.
She didn’t faint, though she came close.
Felix caught her arm gently and whispered, “You’re stubborn as hell, Gamlyn.”
She smirked and replied hoarsely, “Takes one to know one.”
It was that day they agreed — she could shape matter.
But why it harmed venin… was still a mystery.
Until another session, where Felix told her to move with it — to dance.
“You fight it too much,” he said, circling her as she moved. “Let it become part of your rhythm. Be one with it.”
And so, she did. Her power arced and flowed with her body like a second skin. Her footwork became fluid. Her breath matched the humming pulses. The power obeyed.
As the others watched from the perimeter — Garrick seated on the low stone wall, Ridoc beside him, Violet scribbling fiercely, Xaden leaning against a post, and Brennan deep in thought — something clicked.
“She’s dancing with it,” Violet said aloud.
Garrick’s eyes flicked to her. “Felix told her to.”
“No,” Violet shook her head. “I mean really dancing. Like it’s part of her.”
Brennan raised an eyebrow. “So?”
“So,” Violet continued, pointing toward Y/n, who spun low then struck with a sharp jolt of heat, the blue power bursting like fire before fading, “signets mirror who riders are at their core. And Y/n… she’s always been a chameleon. She changes. She mirrors. She adapts.”
Xaden’s brows drew together in thought.
“She’s a dancer,” Violet added, her tone building with realization. “Not just trained — it’s part of her. Her body knows how to shift, how to respond, how to move. Her fighting style mirrors her opponents. Her thoughts shape her reactions. Her power adapts just like she does.”
Ridoc’s eyes widened. “So she doesn’t just shape matter…”
“She alters it,” Brennan finished slowly. “Heat. Cold. Density. It reflects her emotional and tactical instincts.”
“That’s why it hurt the venin,” Xaden said, voice quiet. “Because when she saw danger, when she felt the need to protect, her power altered into something destructive. Like how lightning adapts to a storm.”
They all turned back to the field, where Y/n stumbled slightly on a step. Her breath caught. The power flickered.
Felix stepped in immediately, hand raised. “That’s enough, Gamlyn.”
Y/n blinked, panting hard, a sheen of sweat across her brow. Her power fizzled out and disappeared as she nodded.
“Don’t want to burn you out,” Felix said with a small smile.
She returned it weakly, walking toward her friends. Garrick met her halfway, sliding an arm around her waist. “You’re getting better.”
“Too much better,” Ridoc grumbled. “Soon we’ll all be irrelevant.”
“Speak for yourself,” Violet said, scribbling again. “I’m recording history.”
They laughed, but as Y/n leaned into Garrick, her eyes met Felix’s for a brief moment.
He dipped his head slightly — proud, intrigued, impressed.
Y/n looked down at her hands and flexed her fingers, still tingling.
This wasn’t just control anymore.
It was becoming who she was.
The room was quiet, blanketed in the hush of midnight.
Garrick lay on his side, one arm draped around Y/n’s waist, the slow rise and fall of her breath warming his chest. Moonlight filtered through the slats of the window, painting soft silver lines across the bed.
But then he felt it.
The sudden tension in her body.
A sharp twitch. A whispered whimper. Her breath quickened, shallow and ragged. Garrick’s eyes opened, instantly alert. He leaned up slightly, watching her brow furrow, her lips tremble.
She was dreaming. No—nightmaring.
“Y/n,” he whispered, brushing the curls from her face. “Hey, sweetheart, you’re okay. Wake up.”
But before his hand even made contact, a soft humming filled the air.
He blinked, freezing.
Objects around the room—his chair, a few books, even the glass on his nightstand—were beginning to lift. They hovered inches above the ground, suspended in the air, wrapped in soft, flickering dark blue energy.
Garrick stared, awestruck and alarmed.
“Shit,” he muttered, then gently took her face in his hands. “Y/n. Wake up, love. It’s just a dream.”
Her breathing hitched, a small whimper escaping her throat.
The glass above the nightstand cracked.
“Y/n.” He kissed her temple, his voice more urgent now.
She gasped awake, eyes flying open as the power around them collapsed—everything dropping to the floor with soft thuds and clinks.
Y/n shot up, breathing hard, eyes wide and wild.
Garrick immediately pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re safe. It’s just me. You’re safe, Spitfire.”
Her fingers clutched his shirt, and her whole body trembled. “I—I didn’t mean to—”
“I know.” He stroked her back, letting her press her face into his neck. “But I think we just discovered something else about that wild magic of yours.”
She stilled. “What do you mean?”
Garrick turned his head slightly, gesturing around the room. “You were levitating things. Books. The glass. My chair. All of it.”
Y/n pulled back slightly, eyes wide. “I—I didn’t even know I could—”
“I think it’s tied to your emotions,” he said gently. “Your signet responds to how you feel. When you were scared, it… acted on its own.”
Her lips parted, astonished. She looked around, as if trying to see the aftermath.
Garrick pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.”
The next day...
Y/n stood in the center of the training field, Felix standing beside her with a curious, almost giddy look in his sharp eyes.
“You’re sure?” he asked, glancing at Garrick, who nodded solemnly from the edge with Ridoc and Violet.
“She cracked a glass, levitated half my damn room.”
Felix turned to Y/n. “Well then, let’s see it.”
She closed her eyes, focused on the humming beneath her skin. That familiar tug—wild and deep. She thought of the dream. Of her fear. Her friends. Her family. Of Clara almost dying. The emotions swirled
The energy surged.
The power shimmered over her fingers, and around her, small training daggers began to rise. Then stones. Then a water canteen.
Y/n opened her eyes slowly, breath hitching as the items hovered midair, wrapped in that same glowing, dark blue light.
Felix’s eyes shone. “Fascinating.”
He circled slowly, watching the suspended objects.
“She’s not just shaping matter,” he murmured to himself. “She’s manipulating its state. Position. Weight. Flow.”
Ridoc let out a low whistle. Violet, of course, was already scribbling again.
Garrick stood silent, watching her like she’d hung the stars.
When the items began to tremble in her hold, Felix stepped forward. “Alright. That’s enough for now.”
She released a breath and the objects dropped lightly to the ground.
Y/n turned toward Garrick, her smile small and breathless.
“I levitated them.”
“You did more than that,” Garrick said, walking toward her. “You made gravity your bitch.”
Y/n huffed a laugh and leaned into him, her body tired but her spirit soaring.
Felix watched them with quiet pride, already planning tomorrow’s session.
Whatever Y/n Gamlyn’s signet was becoming… it was unlike anything they’d ever seen.
And it was only just beginning.
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You matter
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist:
Y/n stood at the front of the debriefing room, the weight of the mission still fresh on her shoulders, maps and movement patterns splayed across the table in front of her. Her voice was steady as she spoke, analyzing troop formations and enemy gaps.
Then the door slammed open.
A second-year rider burst in, out of breath, eyes wide. “There’s been a Venin attack—Grevania.”
Y/n’s voice died mid-sentence. Her entire body stilled.
Grevania.
Her home.
Her father.
Her people.
Her mind screamed her best friends" name before she could even form it aloud. Clara. Mari. Elaine.
“I need to go,” she said instantly, voice low, urgent.
Brennan stepped forward. “Y/n, no. You haven’t fully developed your signet yet. If there are Venin—”
“I’ll bring alloy daggers,” she snapped, already moving toward the door. “I don’t care if my signet hasn’t shown up. I’m not sitting here while they destroy my home!”
Brennan hesitated. She was already halfway across the room. “Y/n—”
She turned. Her eyes burned—not with recklessness, but desperate determination. “If you don’t approve, I’ll still go.”
That was all he needed to see. He nodded. “Take Ridoc and Garrick. Go.”
She didn’t even stop to thank him.
She ran.
At the flight field, Ailith was already pawing the ground, sensing her rider’s urgency. Ridoc was tightening Aotrom’s saddle, and Garrick stood beside Chradh, armored up and stone-faced. Xaden and Violet had just arrived, Tairn and Sgaeyl towering behind them.
No words were exchanged. Y/n vaulted onto Ailith’s back with a speed and grace that made seasoned riders look clumsy. Her braid whipped behind her as she gritted out, “Let’s go.”
And she was gone.
The others followed, barely able to keep pace with her.
The ride was fast. Faster than any of them had ever flown. There was no formation, no order—only pursuit, as they tried to keep Ailith in sight. Y/n leaned into every gust, every drop of wind. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but getting home.
They reached Grevania just before dusk.
From above, it was mostly intact—thank the gods. But smoke curled at the borders. Something had burned. Y/n’s eyes scanned the terrain as they flew in wide loops, tracking movement below.
There.
Near the village square. A cluster of people tending to the injured. And in the center—
“Dad,” she breathed, heart hitching.
They dismounted the second it was safe, wings still settling as Y/n and Ridoc sprinted across the field. Their father turned at the sound of their boots, arms crossed but stiff.
“Are you okay?” Y/n panted, eyes darting over him for any sign of blood. “Were you hurt? What happened? Are you—”
“I’m fine,” he said, voice like gravel.
But then his eyes softened. And he looked at her with something she hadn’t seen in him in a long time.
Sadness.
“What?” Y/n asked, already feeling the chill creep into her chest.
“The Venin attacked near the southern lake.”
The breath left her lungs.
“That’s where—”
“Clara lived, yes.”
Ridoc’s head snapped toward his sister. “Y/n—”
But she was already gone.
She ran.
Her legs moved before her thoughts could catch up. The fields blurred past her. Trees. Smoke. The lake.
“Y/n, wait!” Ridoc chased after her, the rest of the team following close behind.
“She doesn’t know if there are still Venin!” Ridoc shouted over his shoulder to the others. “She could get herself killed!”
But Y/n didn’t care.
Clara could be dead.
Or alive.
And she needed to know.
She wouldn’t stop until she saw for herself.
She couldn’t.
Because Grevania might still stand—but if Clara was gone, a piece of Y/n might go with her.
Y/n ran.
The world blurred past her — smoke curling through the trees, branches tearing at her sleeves, boots thudding against the forest floor she knew better than anything else. This path, this winding trail just beyond the edge of the village, was where she and Clara would sneak off to. Where they’d met Mari and Elaine in the summers to swim, to laugh, to plan ridiculous adventures and dream of escaping Grevania together.
Her lungs burned, but she didn’t stop.
Not even when she heard Ridoc shout her name behind her, not even as the pounding of other boots echoed in pursuit. They couldn’t stop her. They wouldn’t.
She burst through the last line of trees—
And saw hell.
One side of the clearing was in flames, trees blackened and smoke curling thick in the air. Clara was just ahead, dragging her little sister with one arm and trying to lift her limping father with the other. Her mother stumbled behind them, blood smeared down her temple.
Opposite them, a Venin.
It hunched over the blackened soil, hand to the ground, draining. Its body shimmered like oil in the light, and the rot around it spread fast — faster than it should have. And it was turning its attention to Clara.
“No,” Y/n whispered, already sprinting.
The panic clawed up her throat, turning to something raw and unbearable. She was going to lose her. She was going to watch one of the people who raised her, who loved her like family, die — and she wouldn’t reach her in time.
Something snapped.
The air around her thickened. Her fingers tingled.
A hum — low and vibrating — built beneath her skin. It thrummed through her bones, lighting her veins like a live wire. She didn’t understand it. Didn’t try to.
She opened the bond to Ailith.
And let go.
With a cry, Y/n flung her hand forward — and a blast of dark blue light erupted from her palm.
It surged across the clearing in a roar, striking the Venin mid-draw. The ground beneath it cracked, the force throwing it back several feet. It hissed, bleeding, black ichor seeping down its side where the magic had struck.
Y/n’s chest heaved, her knees buckled, but she forced her voice to rise. “Run!”
Clara’s eyes locked with hers.
Recognition. Shock.
Then Clara grabbed her sister again, her mother, her father — and ran.
The Venin snarled, clutching its wound, eyes narrowing on Y/n.
“You,” it spat, voice like rusted metal. “You are not supposed to exist.”
Then it turned — retreating into the trees. The wyverns with it peeled away into the sky.
Y/n collapsed to her knees.
Her breath came in sharp bursts, vision tunneling, heart hammering so hard it hurt.
She barely registered Ridoc sliding beside her, gripping her arms. “Y/n. Y/n, breathe. You did it. You stopped him.”
But she couldn’t. Couldn’t calm the storm inside. Her hands were shaking, her body still humming with a power she didn’t understand.
Garrick was there next, kneeling in front of her, his hands warm as they cupped her face. “Hey. Look at me. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
Xaden and Violet landed a beat later, glancing around, weapons ready — but seeing the fleeing Venin, the empty clearing, they paused.
Then they looked at Y/n.
At the dark, flickering tendrils still curling faintly from her fingers. The damage in the earth. The blue light that lingered in the scorched air.
“She just developed her signet,” Violet whispered.
Xaden’s brows pulled together. “I’ve never seen one like that.”
“No one has,” Ridoc said grimly, still holding onto Y/n as her breathing slowly evened out.
Y/n blinked up at them, her voice a hoarse whisper. “What… what did I do?”
Garrick helped her to her feet, pulling her into his chest. “Whatever it was,” he murmured, brushing hair from her face, “you saved them.”
And as they turned back toward the village, Clara and her family waiting in the distance, Y/n leaned into Garrick, Ridoc never leaving her side — the only thing louder than the ringing in her ears was the terrified realization:
Something inside her had changed.
And they had no idea what it meant.
Y/n barely heard Violet say something behind her — something about setting up a perimeter — because the moment she turned and saw them, her legs gave out all over again.
Clara, covered in soot and bloodstains, stood just beyond the tree line where her family had been evacuated. And beside her — Mari and Elaine, arms thrown around her, crying and laughing all at once. The three of them were alive.
“Clara!”
Y/n’s cry broke from her like a dam bursting. Her feet were moving before her mind caught up. She sprinted across the clearing, the other three girls hearing her before they saw her — and then all of them were running, too.
They collided in a tangle of arms and sobs, crashing down into the scorched grass, none of them caring how dirty or bruised or bloody they were.
“I thought you were— I thought I was never going to—” Y/n choked out, her face buried into Clara’s neck.
“Shut up, you dramatic ass,” Clara sobbed back. “You always did think the worst.”
“I saw the Venin—” Y/n began.
“And you saved us,” Elaine cut in, pulling her tighter. “You did it, Y/n. You saved her.”
“We were so scared,” Mari whispered. “But then we heard someone yelling — and then that light—”
Y/n pulled back just enough to look at them, all three of their faces wet with tears, soot-smudged and smiling. They were holding her so tightly she could barely breathe, but she never wanted them to let go.
Behind them, Violet’s voice carried, soft with curiosity. “Who are they?”
Ridoc, still winded and red-faced, managed a lopsided grin. “Those three? Childhood best friends. They’re her whole world.”
The girls finally pulled apart just enough to see one another clearly, but they stayed clinging to hands and sleeves.
“Promise me you’ll be safe,” Clara whispered, voice cracking.
“You promise me,” Y/n shot back. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“You’re the only one on the front lines with a dragon, genius,” Mari said, rolling her eyes through the tears. “You’re gonna be in danger more than us.”
Elaine nodded, resting her forehead to Y/n’s. “Be careful. Please.”
“I will.” Y/n nodded fiercely, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “I swear it.”
A quiet beat passed — all four girls holding one another, the kind of bond that didn’t need words to be understood.
Then Xaden’s voice came gently from behind. “Y/n…”
She turned, and he gave her a small nod. “We need to do a final sweep. Brennan’s going to want a full report.”
She exhaled shakily, then turned back to her friends and gave them one last hug — this one tighter, longer, like she needed it to sink in that they were truly okay.
Then, with her heart still pounding and her hands still shaking from the magic she didn’t understand, she walked with Ridoc to where their father waited.
He stood tall, arms crossed — but his eyes were soft.
Y/n hugged him first. “You have to stay safe,” she whispered, burying her face in his chest for a breath. “I can’t lose you.”
He squeezed her shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere. But you need to be careful too. You’re playing in a bigger war now.”
“I know.”
Ridoc joined them, pulling their father into a quick but firm embrace. “You’re a pain in my ass, old man,” he said gruffly, “but you better be here next time we visit.”
Their father just grunted. “You better bring fewer flying lizards.”
Y/n laughed wetly.
The group remounted — Ailith beneath Y/n practically humming with tension as if sensing her shaken state. Xaden gave the signal, and the riders rose into the air once more, circling the village for one last surveillance check.
Below them, Grevania stood— battered, bruised, but alive.
As they began the journey back toward Aretia, Garrick pulled slightly closer to her in the sky. He didn’t say anything — not yet — but his eyes were fixed on her with worry carved deep into them. He saw the tension in her shoulders, the weight on her spine, and the tremor in her fingers as she held onto Ailith’s neck.
He knew this had shaken her to her core.
And he wasn’t going to let her face it alone.
The council room was colder than usual.
Xaden stood with the others in formation, calm and unreadable as always, though his gaze flicked briefly to Brennan before addressing the table of commanders and advisors. Y/n stood just behind him, beside Garrick, whose hand rested at the small of her back, grounding her — though the rest of her body was tightly wound and alert.
“Venin signs confirmed near the southern borders of Grevania. Minimal structural damage. Casualties limited,” Xaden said crisply. “The attack seemed targeted, possibly a test run. The enemy retreated after encountering resistance.”
Colonel Felix leaned forward from his place near the center. “What sort of resistance?”
Xaden didn’t hesitate. “A first-year rider who manifested an unidentified signet. Cadet Y/n Gamlyn.”
Whispers broke out across the table. Someone near the end scoffed. “She’s barely begun signet training, and she took off into a Venin zone? That’s reckless—”
“Cadet Gamlyn,” Xaden said coolly, “is the Strategic Leader of Aretia. She made a call based on urgency and knowledge of the terrain. She arrived in time to prevent civilian deaths.”
“But she went without proper weaponry—”
“I brought alloy daggers,” Y/n interrupted, lifting her chin. “And I knew the land better than anyone else. It was either move or risk losing innocent lives.”
More muttering. One younger councilwoman arched a brow. “And this… signet. We still don’t know what it is?”
“No,” Brennan admitted, stepping forward. “But whatever it is, it halted a Venin mid-drain. Hurt him, even. That alone warrants training and observation.”
Colonel Felix let out a quiet breath and stood. “Then I’ll train her.”
All eyes turned toward him.
One man narrowed his eyes. “You don’t even know what it is. How can you train something you can’t name?”
Felix’s voice was calm but firm. “I’m not training an it. I’m mentoring a young woman. And a damn capable one at that.”
There was a long silence. Felix continued.
“She isn’t just a first-year cadet. She’s the Strategic Leader of this outpost. That position comes with the responsibility of decision-making in real-time. If the reports are accurate — and I trust that they are — then she saved lives, stalled a Venin, and came out alive. That’s more than some second-years with polished signets can say.”
Y/n felt the smallest breath of relief exhale from her chest. Felix didn’t even look at her, didn’t need to — his statement stood firmly on its own.
After a moment of silence, the council murmured agreement.
“Colonel Felix,” Brennan said, nodding. “You are officially assigned to oversee Cadet Gamlyn’s signet development. Effective tomorrow.”
“Understood.”
“Dismissed.”
The room broke apart slowly, commanders gathering notes and datapads, council members stepping out in hushed conversation.
Y/n, still processing, felt Garrick’s fingers gently wrap around her hand. She laced hers through his without hesitation and tugged him quietly out of the room.
They didn’t speak until they turned down the barracks corridor. Then-
“You know,” Garrick said casually, “you’ve gotten real comfortable just dragging me to my room whenever you please.”
Y/n snorted, shooting him a look. “Oh, please. Like you mind.”
Garrick smirked, smug and warm. “You’re right. I don’t. You could take my soul and I’d say ‘thank you.’”
She laughed — a real, breathy laugh that surprised even her — and he grinned, victorious, as she stepped into his side and wrapped both arms around him.
They walked like that the rest of the way, tangled up in each other.
“You scared the living fuck out of me today, spitfire,” he murmured into her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple as they neared his door.
Y/n tilted her face up with a pout. “I thought I was sweetheart?”
Garrick chuckled, pulling her flush against him now that they’d reached the safety of his room. “You are sweetheart. When my heart isn’t dropping to my ass ‘cause you’re running headfirst into danger.”
She smiled against his chest and whispered, “I’m okay.”
He rested his chin on her head, voice quieter now. “Yeah. But next time… I want to be the one running with you.”
The estate was quiet, the soft hum of torches outside the windows the only noise as the two of them lay curled together in Garrick’s bed. The adrenaline of the day had long worn off, replaced by a weighted silence — the kind that comes after surviving something that could’ve ended so differently.
Garrick’s arms were around her, steady and warm. He ran his fingers gently along the curve of her spine as she rested her head on his chest, her breathing calm, but distant.
“Hey,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence. “Are you really okay?”
Y/n didn’t answer at first. Her hand curled into his shirt, and he felt her exhale slowly, deeply.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
He didn’t move, didn’t push — just waited.
“Today just…” Her voice wavered, but she forced it steady. “It reminded me how much I could lose. My dad. Ridoc. Clara, Mari, Elaine. The village. Everyone. My people.”
She finally looked up at him, eyes shining with the weight of her heart, voice quieter still. “You.”
Garrick didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest like he could shield her from everything. “You just developed your signet, Y/n. Whatever it is — it’s powerful. You’ll be able to protect all of them… as you hone it.”
Y/n swallowed thickly, eyes searching his. “I don’t even know what it is, Garrick.”
He reached up and gently cradled her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. “You will,” he said firmly. “We will figure it out. Together.”
She blinked, and a small, teary smile spread across her face. “I love you.”
He smiled back and leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “I love you too.”
Then he kissed her — slow, tender, like the promise he was making to her was etched in every press of his lips.
When they pulled apart, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and whispered with a lopsided smile, “Besides, you’re stuck with me, Gamlyn. You gave me your heart — I’ll be damned before I break it. I could be at Malek’s doorstep and instead of begging for mercy, I’d beg for you.”
Y/n gave a soft laugh through the emotion thick in her chest and nudged her nose to his. “Look at you being all poetic, Gar.”
He grinned and nipped her bottom lip, earning another quiet giggle from her.
“Only for you,” he murmured, pulling her close once more.
He kissed her again, soft and lingering, then whispered the last word against her mouth, “Goodnight.”
And in that warmth, with his arms around her and his promise wrapped around her heart, Y/n finally allowed herself to sleep.
Taglist: @annamariereads16 @yuelhua @littlepippilingstocking @poisonivy2267 @i-am-infinite @luvmybbies @bwormie @40nights @nikfigueiredo @plants-world @rainingrainbow @-izzy-rose- @electronictimetravelninja @wolfbc97 @wolfplague @86laura11 @sleepysaffi @lxnvmvrzx @ireads @the-fandom-ness @shadowmararurader @immortaliaslane @littowl @xxbelaa @babypeapoddd @anerolt1014 @cayla0000 @xelladarlingx @friend8142-blog @lily-11-11 @migueloharaswife @interphellar @makridesdragons @whyuclouidingmymind @reallycrispysheep @dreamloud4610 @fhurcv @alittlelostalittlefound @freyagallileaevans @jellybean0724 @spideyswebshooters @asteria1103 @riotbound @whitewineandpumpkins @thisempty-yeet @lovely-blackinnon @aisudbfisudbv @believinghurts @laterria201 @giana1508 @friend81420-blog @pit-and-the-pen @xoxroxie @hallelujan-aries @officially-me @softforap @aestoria @jbetches @ivy-34 @aceepee
Domestically mine
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist:
There was a firm knock on the door, sharp and quick.
Before Garrick could even say “come in,” the door burst open and in stormed Y/n, cheeks pink with wind and fury, curls bouncing behind her like a storm cloud.
“I swear to gods, if one more flyer asks me if I’m lost—”
Garrick blinked as she breezed past him, already mid-rant.
“—or tries to explain my own damn strategy to me like I haven’t been the one dragging their asses through drills all month—”
She dropped a duffel at the foot of his bed, opened his closet like she’d lived there for years, and yanked out one of his shirts — the soft navy one she’d once claimed “smelled like love and comfort.” Still talking.
“—and the heater’s out on my side of the barracks, which is just the perfect cherry on this crap sundae—so congrats, Garrick, you have a guest, because I refuse to sleep in those ice-cold-ass barracks next to some snoring halfwit with no concept of personal space.”
She walked to her bag, grabbed her skincare pouch and toothbrush like it was the most natural thing in the world, and strode straight into his bathroom.
Garrick stood frozen by the door, blinking once. Twice.
She was… here.
She had just declared this his problem.
And now she was in his bathroom.
He slowly closed the door behind him, locking it with a soft click as the sound of the shower started up.
From inside, he heard her call, “By the way, your shower pressure? Heavenly. I’m definitely showering here again.”
Garrick turned around, eyes on the ceiling like he was trying to remind himself to stay respectful, but the grin tugging at his mouth betrayed him. This was new. This was unexpected. This was so Y/n.
A few minutes later, she reappeared in the doorway, towel drying her curls, wearing his navy shirt — which hung down to her mid-thigh — and a pair of her own sleep shorts. She padded to the mirror, humming as she brushed her teeth and dabbed moisturizer on her cheekbones. Garrick just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with open amusement.
She finally tossed the towel into her bag, zipped it closed, and quite literally flopped into his bed like it was hers.
“—and then that idiot who couldn’t fly a straight line if you tied him to a string had the audacity to say maybe I should smile more during drills—” she groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes, “—I deserve a fucking medal.”
Garrick tilted his head, lips twitching. “Y/n.”
She peeked at him from under her arm. “Hmm?”
“What exactly are you doing?”
She pulled her arm back with a slow, mischievous smirk. “Waiting for my amazing, utterly hot boyfriend to get over here and cuddle me. Because I deserve it.”
He let out a low chuckle, finally pushing off the wall and walking over to the bed. “Wasn’t aware I was your boyfriend.”
She huffed a laugh. “Right, sorry. You prefer the term ‘ idiot.’”
He climbed onto the mattress, crawling over her until he hovered above her, eyes warm, mouth curved in a grin. “Mmm,” he pinched her side and she squeaked, half-laughing, half-scolding, “I think I actually prefer ‘boyfriend.’ Sounds more exclusive.”
She reached up and tugged him down until he was lying next to her, pulling her flush against his chest.
“Of course you do,” she teased, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “You possessive oaf.”
Garrick barked a laugh, arms tightening around her as he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “Damn right.”
She sighed, content. “Best shitty day ever.”
He kissed the crown of her head. “Only the best for my girl.”
And as her fingers found his, tangling between them beneath the covers, Garrick silently thanked the broken heater, mansplaining flyers, and the gods themselves.
Because there was no way in hell he was letting her go now.
Y/n stirred slowly, her cheek pressed against something warm and solid — and breathing. Her eyes fluttered open to find herself curled up, completely tangled in Garrick’s arms, his face buried in her curls, his large hand resting low on her back, keeping her close like even in sleep, he refused to let her drift too far.
Garrick blinked his eyes open, the morning sun filtering softly through the curtains. He stared down at her for a long, quiet moment, taking in the sleepy curve of her lips, the peacefulness in her features.
“Shit,” he murmured to himself, voice still gravelly from sleep. “Best sleep I’ve had in months.”
Y/n stretched, arching her back a bit with a yawn, but the moment she shifted, Garrick grumbled and pulled her tighter to him with a stubborn growl.
“Where d’you think you’re going?” he mumbled into her hair.
Y/n laughed, nuzzling into his neck and throwing an arm lazily around his shoulders. “You trying to trap me?”
“I am trapping you,” he said, entirely serious, eyes still closed. “You’re warm. You smell nice. And you’re mine.”
She giggled, then began peppering soft, slow kisses across his cheek, nose, jaw. “Someone’s clingy in the morning.”
“I regret nothing.”
He cracked one eye open and caught her lips in a proper kiss, deep and lingering. When they broke apart, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at her with quiet amusement. “You realize this is the first time we’ve actually slept in the same bed?”
Y/n smiled and nodded. “It is.”
He tightened his arms around her waist, his voice low and sincere. “It won’t be the last. Gods, you feel good against me.”
She smirked. “There are other ways I could feel good against you.”
Garrick froze for half a second, then let out a surprised laugh, eyes wide as he looked at her with mock offense and delight. “You—every time, you find new ways to knock me on my ass.”
He leaned in, nipped at her neck, making her squeak and giggle. “Be careful, sweetheart. Keep teasing me like that and I won’t let you leave this bed all day.”
Y/n grabbed him by the jaw, pulled him in, and kissed him slow, then nipped his bottom lip just enough to make him groan. When she pulled back, her voice was low and smug. “Don’t threaten me with a good night.”
Garrick’s grin stretched wide, dazed and lovestruck, as she finally sat up and began looking for her clothes for the day.
He watched her, eyes trailing down her legs as she stood. “Minx.”
She turned her head, shimmied her shoulders playfully, and winked. “You love it.”
And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom, still humming from last night’s victory, and Garrick just laughed into his pillow, stretching out with a content sigh, wondering how in the hell he got so lucky.
Ridoc found Y/n near the mess hall steps, her tray in hand as she grabbed some fruit. He squinted at her, tilting his head suspiciously.
“You weren’t in your room this morning.”
Y/n barely looked at him. “Yeah, the heater’s broken.”
Ridoc’s expression immediately shifted from suspicion to concern. “Wait, your heater’s broken? And you had to sleep with the other riders?” His voice was sharp now, indignant. “Y/n, you could’ve stayed in my room. You’d have been way more comfortable there!”
She turned to him, all faux-sweetness and calculated timing. “Oh, don’t worry. I was comfortable.”
Ridoc blinked. “Where’d you sleep then?”
Y/n waited. One beat. Two. Just long enough for Ridoc to take a generous sip of his water. Then, with a saccharine smile, she chirped:
“With Garrick.”
Ridoc choked mid-sip, nearly spitting water everywhere. Violet and Sawyer burst into laughter as he hacked and wiped at his mouth, eyes wide with horror.
“What?!” he gasped, voice cracking. “Do you have any concern for my health?! I’m going to die from stress!”
Y/n shrugged, munching on a strawberry. “You’ll survive.”
“I will not!” he thundered. “I should’ve never pushed him to do anything. This—this is a betrayal. I’m writing to Father. I hope you’re prepared for a formal inquisition.”
“Oh please,” Y/n rolled her eyes. “You pushed him right into my arms, so congratulations.”
Ridoc made a strangled sound. “You are so grounded. Don’t care that you’re grown. Grounded.”
Sawyer leaned over to Violet, whispering through his grin, “Ten marks says Ridoc stages a fake duel with Garrick by tomorrow.”
Violet snorted. “Nah. He’ll write Garrick an unhinged letter and sign it ‘Concerned Brother and Unwilling Cupid.’”
As the bickering between the siblings escalated, Rhiannon leaned back in her chair, grinning. “You know, I always thought if Y/n ended up with anyone, Ridoc might lose it. I just didn’t expect him to be the one who set the whole thing in motion.”
Bodhi raised his cup toward Garrick, who had just entered and spotted the chaos unfolding.
“Congrats, loverboy,” he said with a smirk. “You broke Ridoc.”
Garrick just smirked back and slid into the seat next to Y/n, brushing his fingers along her back casually as he stole a grape from her tray. “Worth it.”
Ridoc groaned. “Oh gods, they’re doing casual touch. Disgusting.”
“Get used to it,” Y/n said sweetly.
Sawyer howled with laughter as Ridoc dropped his head onto the table with a long, theatrical wail.
Taglist: @annamariereads16 @yuelhua @littlepippilingstocking @poisonivy2267 @i-am-infinite @luvmybbies @bwormie @40nights @nikfigueiredo @plants-world @rainingrainbow @-izzy-rose- @electronictimetravelninja @wolfbc97 @wolfplague @86laura11 @sleepysaffi @lxnvmvrzx @ireads @the-fandom-ness @shadowmararurader @immortaliaslane @littowl @xxbelaa @babypeapoddd @anerolt1014 @cayla0000 @xelladarlingx @friend8142-blog @lily-11-11 @migueloharaswife @interphellar @makridesdragons @whyuclouidingmymind @reallycrispysheep @dreamloud4610 @fhurcv @alittlelostalittlefound @freyagallileaevans @jellybean0724 @spideyswebshooters @asteria1103 @riotbound @whitewineandpumpkins @thisempty-yeet @lovely-blackinnon @aisudbfisudbv @believinghurts @laterria201 @giana1508 @friend81420-blog @pit-and-the-pen @xoxroxie @hallelujan-aries @officially-me @softforap @aestoria @jbetches @ivy-34 @aceepee
Defenseless against you
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist:
Garrick sat on the edge of one of the low stone walls in the Riorson courtyard, half-sharpening his blade and half-staring off like a man spiraling. Which, in fairness, he was.
He barely noticed when Xaden and Violet sat on either side of him, Violet dangling her legs over the edge, Xaden leaning back with that infuriatingly unreadable smirk.
“So…” Violet started lightly. “Any new pathetic attempts to emotionally suppress your feelings today, Garrick?”
Garrick shot her a dry glare. “You two come out here just to mock me?”
“Obviously,” Xaden said.
“We live for this,” Violet added, grinning.
Garrick huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I blew it.”
“Yes,” Xaden agreed cheerfully. “But only partially. She still likes you. She’s just convinced you don’t like her back. Which is… impressive, actually. You’re very obvious.”
“She’s seeing someone else,” Garrick muttered.
“She went on one date,” Violet said. “That doesn’t count. Especially not with Rowan.”
“She could like him,” Garrick argued, voice low. “He got her flowers this morning.”
Xaden tilted his head. “That's right, roses.”
Garrick scoffed. “Her favorite flowers are blue lilies.”
There was a pause.
Violet blinked at him, impressed.
Xaden let out a low whistle, then smirked. “Someone pays attention.”
Violet’s eyes lit up with mischief. “You should bring her blue lillies And—oh! Just be honest. Say something sweet. Maybe bring something else she likes too.”
Garrick grunted. “She’s been talking nonstop about this necklace. Some morning we flew out early and I treated her to breakfast in the village after. She saw it in a shop window. Short black leather cord, small golden seashell pendant.”
He paused, then added, quieter, “Matched this black leather bracelet next to it.”
Xaden grinned. “Bingo.”
Violet gave Garrick a triumphant look. “You get her that necklace, wear the matching bracelet, show up with tiger lilies, and then tell her the truth. You like her, you want her. It’s not rocket science.”
“She already likes you,” Xaden said, crossing his arms. “You just have to remind her why you are the best option for her.”
Garrick exhaled, eyes fixed on the courtyard stones. “…And not Rowan.”
“Exactly,” Violet said with a soft smile. “And hey… worst case scenario? She thinks you’re a thoughtful friend who brings her favorite flowers and jewelry.”
Garrick rolled his eyes. “That’s somehow more terrifying.”
Xaden chuckled. “You survived war games, combat tests, actual battle with venin—and you’re afraid of a girl?”
“She’s not just a girl,” Garrick muttered.
Both Violet and Xaden looked at him.
“She’s Y/n.”
For a brief second, the teasing disappeared. Violet softened, nudging his shoulder gently.
“Then don’t waste time,” she said. “Go get your girl.”
Xaden added, “Before she gets another set of wrong flowers from some idiot.”
Garrick rolled his eyes again, but this time there was a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips.
He stood up slowly, resolve building.
Blue lilies. Seashell necklace. Matching bracelet. The truth.
Operation: Win Y/n Back From the Friendzone was officially underway.
It was late. Most of the estate was quiet, the moonlight pooling through the tall windows in silvery beams, and Y/n was curled up in bed, reading over strategy notes she knew she wouldn’t retain. Her heart hadn’t been in it all day — not since he had avoided her eye all through drills.
The knock was soft, but unmistakable.
Y/n sighed, closing her notebook. She padded to the door, bracing herself. She opened it and found Garrick standing there — in his flight leathers, eyes tired but burning with something she couldn’t name.
She crossed her arms. “Are you here to finally tell me you’re happy for me?”
He met her gaze without flinching. “No.”
Her heart stuttered.
“Can I come in?”
She hesitated — then stepped aside.
He entered slowly, as if afraid the wrong move might send her away. She watched him fidget, and then saw the small box and the bouquet of blue lilies in his hand.
“Garrick—” she began.
But he was already speaking, voice low, raw.
“I’ve been trying to find the right words for days. Weeks, really. Maybe longer than that,” he said, eyes flicking from the flowers to her face. “But they’re never enough. So… I figured I’d start with these.”
He handed her the flowers and the box. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it, revealing the black leather cord necklace with the delicate golden seashell she’d fawned over in the village.
Her breath caught.
“I remember the exact morning you saw that necklace,” he said softly. “You had cinnamon on your mouth from that stupid sticky bun, and your eyes lit up when you saw it in the window. You didn’t even know you were smiling.”
She looked up, stunned. But he wasn’t done.
“I’ve been spiraling ever since that night,” he said. “When we talked outside your room. When I let you walk away thinking I only saw you as a teammate. A friend. And I said nothing.”
Y/n’s voice was barely a whisper. “What do you mean?”
Garrick’s throat worked. “I mean I love you.”
The words weren’t soft. They were certain. His voice cracked slightly, but the way he looked at her — gods, the way he looked at her — like she was the sunrise after a hundred sleepless nights, made her knees weak.
“I started falling for you since I saw you in Grevania,” he said, stepping closer. “Drenched in water, laughing like the world couldn’t touch you. And since then, I look for your laugh. Every damn day. It’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. Your smile… is the highlight of my day. Even when I don’t deserve it.”
She put the flowers and the box down gently on her bed, slowly walking toward him.
“I didn’t say anything because I was an idiot,” Garrick continued, voice nearly breaking. “I’m supposed to be good with words, but around you… you reduce me to this mess. And then Rowan—” His jaw tensed. “He didn’t even know your favorite flowers, Y/n. And I was so angry. Not at him. At myself. Because that should’ve been me.”
She was standing right in front of him now, her eyes shimmering, breath caught.
“I want it to be me,” he said. “I want it to always be me.”
Her voice trembled. “What took you so long?”
He gave her a broken smile. “I told you. I’m an idiot.”
Then she surged forward, fingers gripping the collar of his shirt, and pulled him down into a kiss that was weeks of pining, months of yearning, and years of future possibilities colliding all at once.
Garrick made a low sound in his throat, one hand at her waist, the other cradling her jaw as he deepened the kiss, pouring every unsaid thing into it. When they finally pulled apart, just enough to breathe, she kissed the corner of his mouth and whispered against his lips, “You’re an idiot.”
He smiled, resting his forehead to hers. “Don’t mind being one. As long as I’m yours.”
Y/n kissed him again, soft and sure. “That can be arranged.”
And with the blue lilies on the bed, the necklace glinting in the moonlight, and the scent of home wrapped in the space between them — it finally, finally felt right.
They stayed close for a while until she got curious.
Y/n's fingers brushed the necklace softly where it sat in its box, her heart still racing from his confession. She looked up at him with a small, tender smile. “Put it on me?”
Garrick swallowed, gently taking the necklace from the box. “Turn around for me.”
She turned, gathering her hair up with one hand. He stepped closer, his large hands surprisingly careful as he fastened the delicate clasp behind her neck. When his fingers brushed the nape of her neck, she felt goosebumps rise along her skin.
As she turned to face him again, she finally noticed it — the matching black leather bracelet around his wrist, the small gold charm glinting like hers.
Her smile bloomed, radiant and full of affection. “You got the set.”
He shrugged, feigning casual. “Didn’t want you walking around with a seashell if I didn’t have something to match.”
She laughed softly — and then surged forward again, throwing her arms around his broad shoulders and kissing him breathless.
Garrick didn’t hesitate — hands gripping her waist as he picked her up with ease. Y/n let out a small gasp and instinctively wrapped her legs around him, her fingers curling into his hair as his arms circled her tightly, holding her against him like he’d never let her go.
When they finally broke apart, panting and flushed, she nuzzled her nose to his and grinned. “You were so jealous.”
Garrick let out a small growl of amusement, lips brushing hers again. “I spent months cementing my place in your life, Y/n. I wasn’t about to let some smug flyer waltz in and steal it. Even Ridoc was insulted.”
Her laugh was bright, teasing. “Ridoc was insulted?”
“Oh, especially Ridoc,” Garrick said, smirking. “I thought he was going to challenge me to a spar for being an idiot.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, eyes dancing. “Remind me to thank him.”
“After I kiss you again,” he murmured, pulling her into another heated kiss that felt like coming home.
They stayed tangled up in each other for what felt like hours — just a few more kisses, a few more whispered promises, soft laughter and the occasional murmured “finally.”
Eventually, Garrick exhaled and pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers. “I have to go,” he said, clearly hating the words.
She nodded reluctantly, letting her legs slip back down to the floor.
At the door, he paused. Turned. Kissed her one last time — sweet, sure, and soft.
“Goodnight,” he whispered. “I love you.”
Y/n’s heart felt full to bursting. “I love you too.”
Garrick froze in place, as if the words had physically hit him. His mouth curled into a boyish, hopelessly enamored grin.
“If you say that again, I might never leave.”
She giggled, leaning against the doorframe. “Then leave before Ridoc’s kind streak ends and he starts throwing things.”
Garrick chuckled, shook his head, and gave her one last look — reverent, sure — before slipping out the door.
And Y/n stood there for a long moment, hand at her heart, necklace cool against her collarbone, still tasting him on her lips — smiling like someone who’d finally been seen.
The sun was barely filtering in through the high windows of the Riorson estate’s dining room, casting golden light on steaming mugs and half-eaten breakfast platters. Y/n sat between Sloane and Violet, hair still damp from her morning shower, her mood light and a soft smile playing on her lips.
Sloane blinked mid-bite, her eyes narrowing as she tilted her head. “Wait a second…”
Y/n glanced at her. “What?”
Sloane set her fork down and leaned in. “Where did that come from?”
Y/n followed her gaze and blushed as she instinctively touched the delicate golden seashell resting just above her collarbone. “Oh… this?”
Violet arched a brow from the other side. “Is that new?”
Before Y/n could respond, a voice rumbled from behind her.
“Morning,” Garrick murmured, and then — casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world — pressed a kiss to Y/n’s temple as he walked behind her to grab a mug of tea.
Y/n’s breath hitched slightly. Sloane’s smirk exploded into a grin.
And Ridoc — oh, poor, unsuspecting Ridoc — choked on his eggs.
He stood up so fast his chair screeched across the floor. “WHAT. THE. HELL.”
Everyone turned to look.
“No one panic!” Ridoc declared, waving one hand dramatically while pressing the other to his chest like he was experiencing heart palpitations. “It’s fine. It’s all fine. I’ve just witnessed my baby sister get kissed by her—by her brute of a dragon rider—at breakfast!”
Garrick, completely unbothered, walked back to the table and finally sat next to Y/n, slinging one arm over the back of her chair like he’d been doing it for years. “Morning,” he said, clearly enjoying himself.
Sloane was practically crying with laughter. “Ridoc, breathe.”
Violet giggled, hiding her smile behind her mug. “You’re the one who told him to do something.”
Y/n grinned and looked at her brother. “Actually… thank you, Ridoc. For pushing him.”
Ridoc froze. His hand, still mid-gesture, hovered in the air. His lips moved, but no words came out.
Sawyer leaned over to Bodhi. “I think his spirit just left his body.”
Rhiannon covered her mouth as she burst into laughter. “He’s actually short-circuiting.”
Ridoc slumped into his chair, blinking at the ceiling. “I—this is my fault. I made this happen. I… oh gods, I pushed my sister straight into Garrick’s massive arms.”
Garrick looked smug. “You sure did.”
Bodhi held out a fist toward him. “Respect.”
Garrick bumped it smoothly, then leaned back, clearly pleased with himself as his hand settled lightly on the back of Y/n’s neck. She tilted her head into the touch instinctively.
Xaden, sitting across from them, smirked and nodded once. Garrick returned the nod — the kind of quiet, mutual approval that needed no words.
Meanwhile, Imogen, who’d just walked in with a tray of fruit, slowed to a stop. Her eyes flicked from Y/n’s necklace… to the matching leather bracelet on Garrick’s wrist.
She smiled — a soft, quiet thing — and let out a small sigh, setting the tray down next to Rhiannon. “Well,” she murmured. “I guess it’s finally official.”
Violet looked up, surprised at how serene she sounded.
“I’m happy for them,” Imogen added with a shrug, and meant it.
Back at the center of the chaos, Ridoc had his head in his hands, muttering something about decency and decorum and how he didn’t raise her for this.
Y/n leaned over, rested her head briefly on Garrick’s shoulder, and whispered, “You know he’s going to be worse now, right?”
Garrick chuckled, turning his head slightly to kiss her temple again. “Worth it.”
Taglist: @annamariereads16 @yuelhua @littlepippilingstocking @poisonivy2267 @i-am-infinite @luvmybbies @bwormie @40nights @nikfigueiredo @plants-world @rainingrainbow @-izzy-rose- @electronictimetravelninja @wolfbc97 @wolfplague @86laura11 @sleepysaffi @lxnvmvrzx @ireads @the-fandom-ness @shadowmararurader @immortaliaslane @littowl @xxbelaa @babypeapoddd @anerolt1014 @cayla0000 @xelladarlingx @friend8142-blog @lily-11-11 @migueloharaswife @interphellar @makridesdragons @whyuclouidingmymind @reallycrispysheep @dreamloud4610 @fhurcv @alittlelostalittlefound @freyagallileaevans @jellybean0724 @spideyswebshooters @asteria1103 @riotbound @whitewineandpumpkins @thisempty-yeet @lovely-blackinnon @aisudbfisudbv @believinghurts @laterria201 @giana1508 @friend81420-blog @pit-and-the-pen @xoxroxie @hallelujan-aries @officially-me @softforap @aestoria @jbetches @ivy-34 @aceepee
Painfully aware
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist
A soft knock echoed on Y/n’s door just as she was about to climb into bed. She paused, blinking toward it.
Another knock, a bit louder.
She padded over, tugging her sleeves down, and opened the door to find Garrick standing there, casual as ever in his cadet blacks, hair slightly mussed from the patrol wind. His eyes searched hers immediately, like he’d been holding something in all day.
“Oh,” she said, caught off guard. “Wait here.”
Before he could even speak, she vanished inside.
Garrick stood there, blinking, until she returned — arms full of sweaters. His sweaters.
He furrowed his brows, watching her hold them out toward him like a peace offering. “...What are you doing?”
“I figured,” she said quietly, eyes on the floor, “I should give these back.”
He didn’t take them.
Instead, he just stared at her. “Why?”
Y/n bit her bottom lip, clutching the pile closer to her chest. “I don’t want to ruin your chances.”
His frown deepened. “What chances?”
She finally looked up, her gaze wary. “With Imogen.”
Garrick blinked, startled. “What?”
Y/n took a deep breath — and the words came pouring out in a breathless ramble.
“I accidentally heard your argument with her the other night, okay? I wasn’t eavesdropping, I was going to ask her something and I just—heard it. And I didn’t know you two had, like, a thing. I’m sorry if I came off too familiar with you or made anything complicated or if it ever made you uncomfortable because I didn’t mean to—”
“Y/n,” Garrick interrupted with a breathless laugh, stepping forward and pushing her gently back into her room. “Stop. Just—stop.”
She stumbled a step back, blinking at him.
He closed the door behind him and tossed the sweaters right onto her bed. “Imogen and I were never a thing.”
Y/n narrowed her eyes, uncertain. “You sure?”
He smirked. “Pretty damn sure.”
“You flirted with her. A lot.”
“Yeah, and I flirt with everyone. She and I have been friends since we were kids. There was never anything more than that.”
She studied him for a beat, still unconvinced. “So… we’re cool?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Cool as hell.”
Y/n let out a sigh of relief and glanced toward the pile of sweaters now half-sprawled across her bed. “So… can I keep these then?”
Garrick, mid-folding one of them, grinned. “Be my guest.”
She plucked the one from his hands — a black one with a small tear near the sleeve cuff — and tugged it on. “Good,” she said. “Now give me my sweater back.”
Garrick laughed. “Your sweater?”
She smiled smugly at him and nodded. He bit his lip to stop the grin threatening to spread.
“Can you stop ignoring me now?” he asked, voice quieter, almost teasing but there was something beneath it.
Y/n tilted her head. “Mmm… I’ll think about it.”
He chuckled again, eyes on her, expression softer than before. “You did amazing today,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”
The warmth of the words hit her harder than she expected.
She blinked, then gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thanks.”
A silence fell between them — not uncomfortable, just charged. They stood there, facing each other, so many unspoken things hovering in the air between them.
Both of them opened their mouths at the same time — then stopped, laughed quietly, looked down.
Garrick gathered the nerve, stepped forward slightly. “Would you—”
“Are we still friends?” Y/n blurted.
He blinked. “What?”
She gave a small shrug. “I just… wanted to know.”
He swallowed the words he’d almost said and nodded slowly. “Yeah. Of course.”
She nodded back. “Great. Friends.”
He cleared his throat. “Teammates.”
“Partners,” she added.
They both smiled, but neither of their hearts were in it. Too much between the lines. Too much unsaid.
“Goodnight,” Garrick said softly, opening the door.
Y/n smiled again, quieter this time. “Goodnight.”
As soon as the door shut behind him, Garrick leaned against it, head tilted back with a frustrated sigh, eyes closed.
Inside, Y/n flopped back onto her bed with a groan, her face buried in the collar of his sweater, her heart thudding loud in her ears.
They both exhaled, unaware they’d done it at the same time — each convinced they’d just been firmly planted in the other’s friendzone.
Each absolutely, hopelessly wrong.
The air above Aertia was cold and crisp, the kind of cold that crept under the collar of your uniform and settled in your bones. Garrick adjusted his grip on the scales as Chradh coasted along a thermal current, scanning the horizon automatically.
The flap of massive wings drew his attention. A moment later, Sgaeyl slid into formation beside them, her dark shape cutting through the clouds like a blade. On her back, Xaden Riorson sat as calm and unbothered as ever, one hand on her scales, the other resting lazily on his thigh.
Garrick already felt the headache forming.
“You’re quiet,” Xaden called, smirking. “That’s usually my job.”
Garrick rolled his eyes. “It’s called brooding. I learned it from watching you.”
Xaden’s smirk widened. “Impressive. I almost believed that.”
They flew in silence for a minute before Garrick saw the way Xaden was looking at him.
“What,” Garrick said flatly.
“You tell me.” Xaden’s voice was all innocent amusement. “You’ve been flying like someone shoved a lance up your ass since we took off.”
Garrick gritted his jaw. “Just tired.”
“Oh, sure. Definitely not anything to do with the fact that Y/n's been avoiding you like you’ve got venom seeping out of your pores.”
That got Garrick to flinch.
Xaden grinned. “So, it is about her.”
“Oh, piss off.”
“I could, but this is way more fun,” Xaden said. “Considering the months you spent making comments every time I so much as breathed in Violet’s direction—”
Garrick groaned. “Okay, okay. I get it.”
“Do you?”
“I had a conversation with Y/n earlier,” Garrick muttered, steering Chradh a little left as they passed over the eastern perimeter. “She heard me and Imogen arguing.”
Xaden didn’t say anything, but Garrick could practically feel the way the other male perked up with interest.
“She thought there was something between me and Imogen,” Garrick went on. “I told her there wasn’t. Which is true. It was never anything real. But right when I was about to ask her out, Y/n asks me if we’re still friends.” He scoffed. “And what did I do? I said yes. Like a moron.”
Xaden whistled low. “Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“You had one shot,” Xaden drawled. “And you missed.”
“Thank you for that very helpful commentary.”
Xaden shrugged. “I’m just saying… you’ve been circling each other for months now. Either you’re going to do something about it or you’re not.”
Garrick blew out a breath. “She’s Ridoc’s sister. She’s… Y/n. And now she probably thinks I’m hung up on Imogen. Or worse — that I’m playing both of them.”
Xaden shot him a look. “Didn’t you clear things up?”
“I did. I think. I told her Imogen and I were just friends. That there was never anything romantic.”
“Then make her believe it,” Xaden said simply. “And show her why you’d be the best candidate.”
Garrick raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you did with Violet?”
Xaden huffed. “Violet had Dain sniffing around her. It was a little more complicated.”
Garrick cracked a reluctant smile. “Fair.”
Xaden leaned forward slightly, gaze turning serious. “Just don’t half-ass it. You like her, right?”
“More than I probably should.”
“Then show her. Respectfully, obviously. We both know Ridoc would tear your spine out if you so much as looked at her wrong.”
Garrick smirked. “Please. Y/n would tear my spine out herself.”
They both laughed, because they knew — she would.
Sgaeyl let out a low, almost amused huff, and Chradh mirrored it, both dragons sensing the emotional tension between the two riders with something like exhausted patience.
Xaden shook his head. “Just go for it, Garrick. We’re not guaranteed anything in this life. If she’s what you want, you fight for her.”
Garrick glanced down at Aretia's twinkling lights far below.
Yeah.
He just had to make her believe it. That she wasn’t second to anyone. That she was it.
And he was done being passive about it.
“Thanks, man,” he muttered.
Xaden just smirked again. “Don’t thank me yet. Wait until she either punches you or kisses you. Then we’ll talk.”
Garrick grinned. “I’ve seen her punches. I’ll take my chances.”
They angled their dragons back toward the main gates, the tension eased but the fire in Garrick’s chest brighter now.
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
The dining hall buzzed with its usual controlled chaos — clinking silverware, bursts of laughter, the hum of a dozen conversations layered over each other. Garrick sat with one boot kicked up on the bench opposite him, his tray mostly ignored as Bodhi and Quinn argued animatedly over some combat technique.
“—you pivot after the first strike,” Quinn said, flicking a carrot at Bodhi, who ducked and shot her a mock glare.
“And get your kneecap shattered by a follow-up hit?” Bodhi countered, incredulous.
“Not if you’re not slow as a mountain wyrm.”
Xaden, sitting to Garrick’s right, didn’t even look up from his food. “Please, keep bickering. Maybe you’ll confuse the enemy into surrendering.”
Garrick smirked, only half-listening, his eyes drifting to the other side of the table where Y/n sat with Sloane, Violet, and Rhiannon. She was laughing, something soft and genuine, the kind that made Garrick’s chest twist in that same annoying way it always did lately.
She’d been distant. Friendly, sure — hell, they still flew together at dawn, Ailith and Chradh twining in perfect tandem. But she was guarded now. Measured. Like she was trying really hard to remember that they were just friends.
And it was killing him.
He was just about to finally say something to her, maybe crack a joke across the table to break the weird new wall between them, when Sloane leaned in.
“So…” Sloane began, teasing. “You decided what you’re doing with your hair for tomorrow night?”
Y/n blinked, still chewing a bite of roll. “Haven’t decided yet,” she said after swallowing. “I might braid it or leave it down. Depends.”
Garrick’s brow creased. Tomorrow night?
Violet, ever the curious one, tilted her head. “What’s tomorrow night?”
Y/n shrugged casually. “Got a date.”
Garrick didn’t hear anything for a full second — because Ridoc choked on his drink.
“What?” Ridoc coughed, slamming his mug down and immediately looking at Garrick — who looked just as blindsided.
Garrick’s fingers tightened around his cup before he could stop them. He didn’t say anything — didn’t trust himself to.
Rhiannon perked up with interest. “Wait, with who?”
Y/n reached for her water, calm as anything. “Rowan. He asked me after combat yesterday.”
Rowan. A flyer. Gryphon rider. Blonde, tall, always grinning like the skies belonged to him.
Of course it was Rowan.
Garrick didn’t move, but he felt the heat prickle at the back of his neck. Across from him, Xaden turned toward him slowly with a look that screamed are you serious right now? Garrick gave him a look back that basically said don’t start.
But Xaden just sighed. Loudly.
“Interesting,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Garrick to hear. “Very bold strategy. Not sure it’ll work.”
Garrick shot him a side glare. “Shut up.”
Meanwhile, Y/n carried on her conversation, now chatting animatedly with Rhiannon and Violet, completely unaware of the emotional minefield she’d just dropped in the middle of the table. Ridoc was still trying — and failing — to interrogate her without getting ignored.
“Rowan?” he echoed again. “Like, that Rowan? Gryphon-rowan?”
Y/n didn’t even look at him. “Don’t start, Ridoc.”
Sawyer, grinning like the troublemaker he was, nudged Ridoc. “You should tail them. Just in case.”
“Don’t give him ideas,” Rhiannon said, rolling her eyes.
Across the table, Imogen watched everything quietly, gaze flicking between Garrick’s clenched jaw and Y/n’s light laughter. She said nothing, but something in her expression turned thoughtful. Sharp.
Quinn leaned toward Bodhi and whispered, “Did he know about this?”
Bodhi gave a tiny shake of his head, glancing at Garrick. “Not a chance.”
Garrick sat back slightly, trying to look like the news didn’t hit him like a punch to the ribs. But his grip on his cup hadn’t relaxed.
She was going out with someone else.
And why wouldn’t she?
He’d let her believe they were just friends. That Imogen mattered more. That he didn’t want her.
Xaden muttered beside him again, amusement and a hint of warning in his voice. “Hope you’ve got a plan, dumbass. ‘Cause that flyer sure as hell does.”
Garrick didn’t answer.
But he was already forming one.
The hall outside the library was quiet, the usual buzz of Basgiath reduced to the low murmur of dragons breathing in the distance and the occasional boots echoing against stone. Y/n stepped out from behind the towering oak doors, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, a book tucked beneath her arm.
She was halfway down the corridor when she spotted him — Garrick, heading toward the outer gates, his black uniform partially unzipped at the collar, flight harness slung low over one shoulder. His stride faltered the moment he saw her.
“Hey,” she greeted softly, her voice warm but cautious.
He slowed to a stop. “Hey yourself. You’re out late.”
“Returned a book before bed.” She held up the slim volume and offered a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”
He nodded, eyes scanning her face, her eyes, trying to read her like he always did. “You, uh… got plans tomorrow night?”
Y/n tilted her head, unsure if he forgot or if he was trying to be subtle. “Yeah. I’ve got that drink with Rowan.”
He nodded once, jaw tightening. “Right. The flyer.”
Y/n blinked. “Yeah… the flyer.”
Garrick gave a short, dry chuckle. “Just saying, gryphon riders are cocky as hell. You know how they are — always showboating, trying to prove they can keep up with dragons.”
Y/n’s smile flattened. “Rowan’s not like that.”
Garrick raised a brow. “Really? Guy talks about his wingspan more than his actual strategies.”
Y/n furrowed her brow. “That’s not fair. He’s smart. And kind. And… he asked.”
That one hit harder than it should have. Garrick’s fingers flexed around the strap of his harness.
“You deserve better,” he said, quietly but firmly.
Y/n crossed her arms, book pressed to her chest. “Oh yeah? Any suggestions?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Bit his tongue.
And that pause — that pause — was everything.
Y/n’s lips tightened. She nodded once, and he saw it — the flicker of sadness in her eyes before she pulled her walls back up.
“Mhmm,thought so,” she whispered, more to herself than him, and turned to leave.
“Y/n—” Garrick started, stepping forward.
But she didn’t stop. “If you can’t be happy for me,” she said over her shoulder, “then don’t bother at all.”
She disappeared down the corridor, boots hitting the stone faster than before. Garrick stayed rooted where he was, groaning under his breath and dragging a hand down his face.
How the hell do I keep screwing this up?
His dragon would’ve told him to stop being a coward.
And for once, he was starting to think Chradh was right.
The evening air was warm inside Riorson Estate, lanterns casting a cozy golden hue across the common room where half the crew had gathered. The furniture was mismatched —a charm only exhausted riders bring— but the energy was all too familiar: sprawled limbs, snarky banter, and a healthy dose of passive-aggressive tension.
Garrick sat sunk into an armchair, legs spread obnoxiously wide, hands behind his head, his expression unreadable as Quinn and Bodhi argued over a deck of cards.
“Wonder how Y/n’s date is going,” Ridoc mused from the edge of the fireplace where he was tossing a dagger lazily into the wood.
Sloane, flipping through a book on the nearby couch, didn’t look up. “She didn’t look that excited when she left.”
Violet, curled beside Xaden, murmured under her breath, “I wonder why…”
Just then, the front door creaked open and Y/n’s voice drifted through, clear as a bell. “Thanks, Rowan. I’ll see you around.”
A chorus of eyes snapped toward the hallway.
Y/n entered, cheeks pink from the cold and… maybe from something else. She peeled off her scarf and jacket with nonchalance.
“Well?” Ridoc demanded, all eyes now shamelessly on her.
Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the sudden attention. “It was fine. Good, actually. Better than I thought.”
That earned some surprised looks.
She turned, beckoning to Sloane. “C’mon, help me grab something from my room?”
Sloane popped up quickly and followed, the two disappearing down the hall, giggling as the door clicked shut.
A beat of silence followed.
Then Ridoc’s head snapped to Garrick, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “Well?”
Garrick didn’t even flinch. He leaned back further, stretching, voice flat. “What?”
Ridoc threw his hands up. “You’ve spent months flirting with my sister — borderline seducing her — and now, this? Nothing?! Absolutely nothing?!”
Garrick raised a brow, lazily. “I thought you didn’t want me to seduce your sister.”
Ridoc scoffed like it personally offended him. “Since when do you listen to me?!”
Garrick opened his mouth to answer, but Ridoc pointed a sharp finger. “No. Don’t you even try. You—you fix this. I already told my father about the situation, and I REFUSE to have my sister dating a flyer. Absolutely not.”
That earned a bark of laughter from Bodhi.
“And he’s not even hot!” Ridoc added, like that was the final nail in the coffin.
Violet gave him a flat look. “Ridoc…”
“Well, not hotter than Garrick. My sister should have some decorum. Some standards!” Ridoc jabbed a finger toward Garrick. “Get your ass moving and do something about it!”
The room exploded into laughter.
Rhiannon nearly choked on her drink. “Wait, you’re okay with this now?”
Ridoc threw up his hands. “I would rather her date Garrick, who I know isn’t a total toolbag, than someone I don’t even know. At least Garrick only occasionally pisses me off and hasn’t tried to mansplain strategy to her like Rowan did.”
Sawyer grinned, elbowing Garrick from across the coffee table. “That’s the closest thing to approval you’re ever gonna get, man. Don’t waste it.”
Garrick stared at the ceiling for a long second, sighed like a man being dragged by fate, and finally stood. He cracked his neck and muttered, “I’m going.”
“Atta boy!” Ridoc shouted after him. “And remember — if you break her heart, I will break your nose.”
Quinn winced. “Romantic.”
Xaden, deadpan as ever, looked over at Violet. “I miss when we were the dramatic ones.”
Violet smirked. “No you don’t.”
Y/n flopped back onto her bed with a dramatic sigh, her curls spilling over her pillow. Sloane sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, watching her friend with amused curiosity.
“So?” Sloane asked, voice sing-song. “Tell me about the date.”
Y/n shrugged, her voice muffled into the pillow. “It was… actually nice.”
Sloane’s brows rose. “Nice?”
Y/n rolled over, face now turned up to the ceiling. “Yeah, I mean… Rowan’s decent. He was sweet. Polite. He made me laugh a couple of times. Didn’t talk over me or act like I didn’t know what I was talking about. this time.”
Sloane gave a thoughtful nod. “So… from zero to Garrick — how good was it?”
Y/n groaned, throwing her arm dramatically over her eyes. “You suck.”
Sloane cackled. “Come on! Be honest.”
Y/n sat up, pointing a finger at her. “That’s an impossible standard. No one compares to Garrick.”
Sloane raised a brow, already grinning. “Oh? How so?”
Y/n scoffed and threw her hands up. “First of all — no one has ever gotten close to how HOT Garrick is. Like, objectively. Statues should be modeled after that man.”
“Statues of war, maybe,” Sloane muttered. “He’s a wall of muscle and barely-contained violence.”
“To everyone else maybe,” Y/n shot back, “but to me? He’s—he’s such a sweetheart. He’s smart. Like, really smart. And he listens. He actually listens to me. He pushes me to be better, but never makes me feel small. He makes me laugh when I feel like the world is falling apart. And I feel safe with him. Like… actually safe.”
Sloane gave a slow whistle. “Damn. Poor Rowan doesn’t even stand a chance. You’ve built Garrick up to be the golden standard of men.”
Y/n groaned again, dragging her hands down her face. “I wish I wasn’t so stuck in the friendzone.”
Sloane tilted her head. “You might not be as stuck as you think.”
Y/n blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Sloane said, flopping back beside her, “Garrick’s been a wreck since he found out about the date. Pissy as hell when you left. Avoiding eye contact. Grinding his teeth like he wanted to fly to the outpost just to bodycheck Rowan.”
Y/n shook her head. “It’s not possible. He told me himself that we’re just friends. Partners. Teammates, even.”
Sloane snorted. “Yeah? And Xaden once said he didn’t like Violet. Sometimes men lie to themselves.”
Y/n bit her lip, looking away. “I don’t know…”
But before she could spiral further, their conversation drifted toward softer topics — boots, braids, and battle strategy.
Neither of them noticed the shadow shifting just outside the cracked door.
Garrick stepped back, heart hammering against his ribs.
He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d just come to knock. To apologize. Maybe to explain why he’d acted like a complete idiot the night before.
But now?
Now he had a whole different problem: she wanted him. Almost as bad as he wanted her.
He exhaled a breath through his nose, dragging a hand over his jaw. Shit.
Looks like he was going to need a better plan.
Preferably one that involved sweeping Y/n off her feet — and keeping Rowan the Flyer far, far away.
Taglist: @annamariereads16 @yuelhua @littlepippilingstocking @poisonivy2267 @i-am-infinite @luvmybbies @bwormie @40nights @nikfigueiredo @plants-world @rainingrainbow @-izzy-rose- @electronictimetravelninja @wolfbc97 @wolfplague @86laura11 @sleepysaffi @lxnvmvrzx @ireads @the-fandom-ness @shadowmararurader @immortaliaslane @littowl @xxbelaa @babypeapoddd @anerolt1014 @cayla0000 @xelladarlingx @friend8142-blog @lily-11-11 @migueloharaswife @interphellar @makridesdragons @whyuclouidingmymind @reallycrispysheep @dreamloud4610 @fhurcv @alittlelostalittlefound @freyagallileaevans @jellybean0724 @spideyswebshooters @asteria1103 @riotbound @whitewineandpumpkins @thisempty-yeet @lovely-blackinnon @aisudbfisudbv @believinghurts @laterria201 @giana1508 @friend81420-blog @pit-and-the-pen @xoxroxie @hallelujan-aries @officially-me @softforap @aestoria @jbetches @ivy-34 @aceepee
Hey hey hope you are doing all right and had a well deserved break over the holidays.
Thank you! Last semester was stressfull which is mainly why I was out and when the holidays hit, I closed my laptop and shut DOWN. Burnout is no joke. Now little by little, we're getting back. Thank you so much once again and hope you are ddoing alright.
Hieieee, how are you?
Happy new year!
Your writing's amazing, first of all!
Just wanted to ask if you're doing okay since you've been inactive for quite a while!😋
Lots of love🫶
Hi!!
I have been good! Life veeery hectic )being an adult is chaotic) which is why I havent been able to sit down and edit and post. Lately I was thinking...what if i just BOOM post the rest of Carita Linda as a holiday's present to all my luvly readers? annd hell yes! That is what I will be getting down to do and hope all of you had a wonderful christmas!
Thank you all for the wait! You have all been so amazingly patient. <3
Strategically hurt
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist
Garrick was bone-tired from patrol, wind-swept and craving silence… until he caught the soft glow bleeding out from under a familiar door in the hallway.
Y/n.
He found himself knocking before he could think twice.
The door creaked open, and there she was—hair loose, warm lighting behind her casting her in gold, wearing… a black sweater that looked suspiciously familiar.
He leaned against the frame with a lopsided smirk. “That mine?”
Y/n arched a brow, completely unbothered. “If it bothers you so much,” she said, her voice syrup-smooth, “you’re welcome to take it off yourself.”
Garrick let out a short laugh. “Wouldn’t you like that, spitfire.”
She grinned, stepping aside to let him in. “What are you doing here, Tavis? Thought you’d be off trying to charm your way into someone’s bunk after patrol.”
He shrugged, wandering in. “Saw your light. Curiosity won.”
She settled back by the table strewn with papers and notes, gesturing to the chaos with a sigh. “Devera wants me to prep strategy for the next mission. And—surprise—lead the council explanation.”
That made Garrick straighten. “Wait, really?”
She nodded. “It’s no big deal.”
“You’re leading the briefing for the rebellion council and you’re saying it’s no big deal?” he said, eyebrows raised. “Color me impressed.”
Y/n gave a little shrug, brushing it off. “I’ve got it figured out. Mostly. I just… get a little messy explaining it.”
There was that note of honesty, that crack in her otherwise unshakable confidence. Garrick leaned forward, smile gentling. “You want a practice audience?”
Y/n tilted her head at him, sly smile forming. “You sure? If Ridoc finds you in my room, he’ll drop dead.”
Garrick gave her a casual shrug, walking toward her desk chair and dropping into it like he owned the place. “He’ll live.”
She laughed—low and amused—and then nodded. “Alright, soldier. Try to keep up.”
As she began explaining her strategy—mapping out flanks, timing, fallback routes, reading off stats with sharp precision—Garrick watched her like she was conjuring fire. He didn’t even notice how time passed; he just kept listening, captivated by the fire in her eyes and the brilliant way her mind carved through complexity.
“Damn,” he said when she paused for breath, “Devera really knew what she was doing, giving this to you.”
Y/n flushed just slightly and rolled her eyes. “Stop it.”
But he didn’t stop smiling, not even when she returned to her notes.
Because watching Y/n Gamlyn command a room—even one with only him in it—was the most impressive thing he’d seen all day.
Garrick leaned back in Y/n’s desk chair, arms crossed as she clicked her pen one last time, notes finally in order. He had given her a few minor pointers—how to pause for effect when addressing the council, how to tie in real-world examples—and now she was shuffling her notes into a neat pile, eyes already a little heavy with exhaustion.
“You need to sleep, Spitfire,” he said, standing. “Big day tomorrow.”
Y/n smiled, warm and faintly amused. “Thanks for helping.”
“Anytime,” he said softly, heading to the door.
As it clicked shut behind him, he exhaled… only to nearly run into Imogen, standing in the hallway like a shadow waiting for him.
She’d clearly just come off patrol—windswept braid, gauntlets unstrapped, jaw tight.
Her eyes darted to Y/n’s door, then back to him. “You have a dying wish, Tavis?” she asked, mock-sweet. “Or are you just tired of having your face intact?”
Garrick huffed a quiet laugh. “It’s not like that. I was helping her prep for her council briefing. That’s all.”
Imogen tilted her head, arms crossing. “Right. Helping her. At night. In your clothes.”
Garrick sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew this was coming. He turned back to face her fully. “Gen. Y/n and I… we’re just friends.”
Imogen’s laugh was bitter and sharp. “Friends don’t let friends steal their sweaters.”
He looked down the hall, then back at her, clearly worn down from the patrol and now this. “I care about you,” he said gently. “You know that. But I dont understand why are you bothered.”
“Because I thought we had something,” Imogen snapped, voice low but fiery.
Garrick shook his head. “Gen, we flirted. We joked. I chased you. I made my intentions clear from day one. You never wanted to take it further.”
“Well, sorry if things like that aren’t easy for me!” she hissed, frustration bubbling just beneath her skin.
“It’s not easy for any of us!” he shot back. “We’re the damn traitors' kids. Survival mode has been our only setting since we were kids. Since our parents died. Since the rebellion made us soldiers instead of teenagers.”
Imogen’s jaw clenched.
“I get it,” Garrick continued, voice quieter now, heavy. “But I had hoped maybe—someday—you’d trust me enough to try.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, venom creeping into her voice, “so that’s what Y/n is? The easy one? The one who didn’t make you wait?”
His head snapped up, eyes flaring. “Don’t. Put. words. in. my. mouth. Y/n is not easy, and she’s not your replacement.”
Imogen looked away, arms still crossed, bitterness laced in every line of her posture. “Sure. But if she ever finds out there was something between us… is that what she’ll think?”
Garrick stared at her, jaw tightening. “You’re smarter than this, Gen. You’re talking out of jealousy.”
“I’m not jealous.”
His brows lifted. The silence between them was cutting.
“Right,” he muttered, too drained to fight. “Good night, Imogen.”
And with that, he turned and walked away, tension radiating off him with each step.
What neither of them saw—what neither knew—was that just around the corner, hidden in the shadows behind a sligthly open door… stood Y/n.
Hand clenched softly around a page she’d meant to give Imogen, her steps had halted the second she heard her friend’s voice.
She had heard everything.
And though her expression was unreadable, her heart pounded in her chest like a war drum.
Not because of what was said.
But because of how deeply she was starting to feel for someone who clearly came with more history than she realized.
The war room was tense in that way it always was before a strategy briefing—quiet anticipation laced with judgment, like the room itself could crush you if you let it. Maps lined the central table. Xaden stood near Brennan, arms crossed. Professor Devera, ever-sharp, stood beside him, while Mira’s assessing eyes missed nothing. Violet sat tall but relaxed, pen twirling between her fingers. Bodhi leaned back with that signature irreverent smirk, while Imogen’s fingers tapped her armrest absently. Garrick stood beside the far window, quiet, unreadable.
Y/n entered steady, her notes in hand, chin high. Ailith’s presence buzzed faintly through the bond, solid and steady like a current of calm reassurance beneath her nerves.
She began.
And once she started… she didn’t stop.
Her words were precise, her tone commanding. She built her strategy like a fortress, layering rationale with field insights, predictions with data. She countered every potential failure point with backup maneuvers. Ailith’s projected aerial routes and shadow-blind spots were detailed with brutal clarity.
By the end of it, the room was silent.
Then—
“Impressive,” Brennan said, nodding.
“She used two debriefings to cross-reference a single pattern,” Professor Devera added, voice almost proud.
One of the councilmen, older, hawk-eyed, leaned forward. “Tell me, Cadet Gamlyn… have you developed your signet yet?”
The question sliced through the quiet like a blade.
Y/n paused—only for a breath—but the flicker of discomfort was visible. “Not yet, sir,” she said evenly. “Ailith and I haven’t channeled anything… yet.”
The councilman’s brow lifted. “A shame. With a dragon like her—navy-blue, nearly black—Sgaeyl’s younger sister, no less—I’d wager you’re sitting on something formidable. A signet like Sgaeyl’s yielded shadow-wielding in Liutenant Riorson. Surely yours is… imminent.”
Y/n nodded once, holding his gaze. “Hopefully.”
“You’ve given us a strong edge either way,” Mira said, changing the subject smoothly. “Well done, Cadet.”
“You’re dismissed,” Devera announced. “Gamlyn, stay behind a moment.”
As the others stood, Violet immediately leaned in. “Hey. That was a damn good strategy. Don’t stress about the signet, okay? It’ll come. Everyone blooms at their own pace.”
“Thanks,” Y/n said, smile small but grateful.
But as she turned to speak more, she saw him.
Garrick. Walking toward her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
She stepped back instinctively, intending to leave—but Devera cut her off.
“Gamlyn. A word.”
She turned back just as Devera moved toward her, with Brennan behind.
“You impressed today,” the professor said. “Walk with us. We have something to discuss—a potential proposition.”
Y/n gave a brief nod. “Of course.”
She left without a backward glance.
Behind her, Violet tilted her head. “Okay… what was that?”
“No idea,” Xaden muttered. “I’ll ask Devera later.”
Violet glanced toward Garrick, noting the furrow between his brows.
Then she noticed Imogen—frozen, brows slightly raised, her expression creasing as realization dawned.
“…She heard us,” Imogen murmured, almost inaudible.
“What?” Violet blinked.
“She heard us last night,” Imogen repeated, guilt slowly bleeding into her features. “She was right there. She must’ve heard everything.”
Garrick, standing across from her, caught the look on her face.
His shoulders stiffened.
Shit.
It hit him like a blade to the ribs.
He wasn’t sure if it was the betrayal in Y/n’s avoidance or the disappointment in himself, but either way—he knew.
She heard.
And she was already walking away. Farther and farther, in more ways than one.
The dining hall was alive with chatter and clinking dishes, cadets laughing between bites, the usual midday rush of voices echoing off the stone. Y/n spotted her friends gathered at their usual table — Ridoc, Violet, Rhiannon, Sawyer, Bodhi, Sloane, and even Imogen sitting in her usual spot, quiet as ever. Garrick was there too, next to Bodhi, but his gaze lifted the second she stepped in.
She walked in calm, collected — her uniform pressed, her hair braided neatly over her shoulder, the Strategic Leader pin already gleaming on her chest.
“There she is!” Rhiannon beamed, nudging Violet with her elbow. “Vi told us Devera and Brennan pulled you aside earlier. So… what’s the tea?”
Y/n gave a small, humble smile. “The council asked me to take on a new role.”
Ridoc squinted suspiciously. “What kind of new role?”
“They’re naming me Strategic Leader,” she said, voice even, but the pride in her tone peeked through as she showed her pin. “Effective immediately.”
Ridoc whooped so loud half the room turned. “That’s my girl!” He practically leapt over the table to pull his sister into a tight hug, spinning her once.
Y/n laughed as the others joined in — clapping, cheers, and congratulations echoing around her.
“I knew it,” Violet grinned, her voice full of warmth. “Tairn told me just yesterday he thought you had one of the sharpest strategic minds among the cadets.”
Y/n blinked. “Wait — Tairn said that?”
Violet laughed. “Swear on my bond.”
“That’s… terrifyingly flattering,” Y/n said with a laugh. “Tell him I said thank you for the vote of confidence. I feel very seen.”
“You deserve it,” Sloane said, grinning over her juice.
“Damn right,” Bodhi added, lifting his cup. “To Cadet Gamlyn’s apprentice.”
The table lifted their drinks with a mix of cheers and jokes.
All except Garrick.
He hadn’t said a word.
He sat there, quiet, hands clasped under the table, eyes on her but unreadable. She felt it — the weight of his gaze, the tension humming low beneath the joy. Their bondmates weren’t helping either. Ailith was a gentle pulse of pride and protectiveness, but Chradh’s hovering presence betrayed Garrick’s unease.
And when Y/n finally glanced at him — really looked at him — his eyes softened, just a touch.
Pride.
Regret.
Concern.
He wanted to speak. She could feel it. But she didn’t know if she wanted to hear what he had to say.
Not yet.
So she turned back to her plate, accepted Ridoc’s teasing nudge, and joined the rest in the celebration. For now, she would bask in the victory she earned. The rest — the feelings, the conversation, him — could wait.
But across the table, Garrick sat with a thousand unspoken things perched on his tongue, none of which were congratulations.
He just hoped he hadn’t lost her before he got the chance to say them.
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Tutor of mine
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist
Y/n stumbles into the dining hall twenty minutes after the rest of the squad.
Her uniform is technically within regulation—though her shirt’s half untucked, the strap of her bag slipping off one shoulder as she adjusts it with a tired grumble. But it’s her hair that gets everyone’s attention.
That signature slicked ponytail of hers? Nowhere to be seen.
Instead, soft curls tumble from a messy ponytail tied low on her head, a few strands falling around her face. Slightly chaotic, effortlessly charming.
And way too pretty.
Ridoc watches her approach, one brow arching as she drops onto the bench beside him and slumps half her body against his side.
“Well, good morning, bug.” His voice is dry, amused. “Sleep well?”
Y/n groans, grabbing a piece of toast off a tray. “I overslept. Pulled an all-nighter trying to cross-reference Devera’s notes from yesterday’s battle brief with Brennan’s mission logs. Found a loophole about perimeter breaches that kept me up all night.”
Across the table, Violet hums, sipping her tea. “Wow. That’s a lot of words for ‘I forgot to sleep.’” Her eyes narrow slightly, amused. “Also… what’s with the hair?”
Y/n reaches up, patting it absently. “Didn’t have time.”
“No, no, it’s cute,” Violet teases, leaning in. “It’s… almost romantic. Like a ‘just came from his bed’ kind of messy.”
Y/n chokes slightly on her toast as Ridoc makes a scandalized noise.
“I will start issuing morning hair inspections if necessary.”
She ignores him, focused on buttering her toast when something slides next to her hand.
A mug.
Hot. Fresh. Coffee.
She looks up.
Garrick is passing behind her, his eyes locked on hers. “Figured you’d need it.”
Y/n blinks, then gives a tired, soft smile that tugs at the corners of her lips and warms her features.
“Thanks, Tavis.”
He dips his head in a subtle nod and keeps walking, but not without Ridoc’s gaze burning a hole through the back of his skull.
“He brought you coffee?” Ridoc grits.
Y/n just hums innocently and finally begins eating like she hasn’t in hours, unbothered.
They continue chatting about the morning drills, Ridoc giving her crap about her lack of sleep, but as everyone starts to head out, grabbing gear and shouldering bags, Garrick slows beside her as she adjusts her belt.
He leans just close enough for her to hear. “You look pretty today.”
Y/n pauses, caught completely off guard.
“What?”
His lips curve into that smug, infuriatingly charming smirk. “You heard me.”
She turns, stunned into silence just for a second—just long enough for him to see the faint, unmistakable flush creep into her cheeks.
Garrick’s grin widens.
“No way,” he says, laughing softly. “Did I finally get the infamous Gamlyn to blush?”
Y/n recovers in record time, scoffing as she turns on her heel, waving a dismissive hand.
“You’re delusional.”
She links arms with Sloane as she pulls her start toward class, ignoring the way her ears still burn, while Garrick and Sloane both laugh behind her.
Garrick watches her walk away, messy ponytail bouncing with each step, and thinks—
Yeah.
She’s real trouble.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Sloane easily matches Y/n’s stride as they leave the hall, her smirk so wide it could rival Violet’s when she’s caught someone red-handed.
“You blushed,” she sing-songs, bumping her shoulder against Y/n’s. “You actually blushed. That’s, like, a historic event. Should we call the archives?”
Y/n rolls her eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck. “I did not blush.”
“Oh no? Then what was that? Sunburn?”
“It was warm in there.”
“Right. Warm. From Garrick’s eyes burning holes into your soul,” Sloane teases, snorting. “Gods, I thought Ridoc was the flirty one in our group.”
Y/n groans, fingers brushing up to tighten her ponytail. “Can we not do this right now? I need to focus—physics is literally trying to murder me.”
Sloane just laughs harder. “Don’t worry. When math and logic betray you, your lieutenant will come save the day.” She mimics Garrick’s voice with a grin. “Allow me, Y/n. I’ll explain the trajectory curve again… slowly.”
Y/n shoves her with her hip, but she’s laughing too. “You’re the worst.”
“And yet, you keep me around,” Sloane says, unbothered. “Just like Garrick lets you steal from his plate and wear his very not yours jacket.”
Y/n tries to fight the grin tugging at her lips. Fails. Miserably.
They round the corner toward their classroom, Y/n clutching her notes like a lifeline, trying to pull her head out of whatever daze Garrick’s coffee and compliment combo put her in.
“I am going to fail if I don’t pay attention,” she mutters, adjusting her strap.
Sloane just throws arms her arm around Y/n, grinning like the menace she is. “Well, then let him tutor you after hours. I’m sure lots of physics can happen.”
“Sloane!”
"My bad, that's chemistry"
They both burst out laughing just as the classroom doors come into view—Y/n shaking her head but smiling so wide it physically hurts, and Sloane proud as ever.
Because yeah, Garrick Tavis might be slowly wrapping himself around Y/n Gamlyn…
And it's totally worth it.
Y/n’s brow furrows in focus, her breathing measured. A quiet hum thrums beneath her skin, the final layer of her mental wall falling into place with a satisfying click.
Then—silence. Stillness.
Her eyes flutter open, and the gleam of victory dances within them. “I did it,” she whispers, half in disbelief.
Garrick is already looking at her.
But not in the way he usually does during training. No teasing smirk, no sly comments. His expression is soft—softer than she’s ever seen it. There’s pride, yes, but also something more. Something tender and deep, like he’s seeing her for the very first time, again.
She leans closer without even thinking about it, drawn in like gravity. Her heart is a drumbeat against her ribs, and it only gets louder the closer she gets.
Then, quietly, she murmurs, “Hey… your eyes have a little green in them.”
Garrick’s lips twitch upward. “That so?”
She nods, eyes flicking between his. “Yeah. You can only really see it when you’re up close like this.”
He tilts his head, voice just as low. “Well… yours have hints of gold when the sun hits them.”
Y/n snorts. “Impossible. My eyes are too dark.”
“Don’t believe me then,” he says, amused, his voice a soft, warm rasp.
She laughs, gaze locked on his. “Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t.”
They’re only inches apart now, breathing each other in, and it feels like one more heartbeat will shatter the distance—
Rustle.
The distinct rumble of a dragon’s snort breaks the tension like a dagger through silence.
Both of them jolt slightly, snapping their heads toward the sound. Chradh and Ailith are watching them like two overinvolved, emotionally invested parents who’ve had enough.
Y/n clears her throat, smoothing down her tunic. “Right. I should… probably take Ailith for a flight.”
Garrick rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. Xaden’s probably looking for me.”
Their dragons continue to stare in quiet judgment.
Y/n climbs onto Ailith’s back, grateful for the wind rushing her face as they take off. But Ailith’s voice rings clear in her head.
“You have a crush.”
Y/n sputters. “I do not.”
“I sense everything you feel, thanks to this beautiful thing called our bond.” Ailith’s tone is smug. “You’re not slick, sweet one.”
Y/n doesn’t respond.
“That’s what I thought.”
Back on the ground, Chradh lets out a low, smoky chuckle through the bond.
“You’re done for, Tavis.”
Garrick exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“She’s going to run you in circles until you drop.”
And all Garrick can do is watch the sky where Y/n disappears into the clouds… …and smile like an idiot.
Taglist: @annamariereads16 @yuelhua @littlepippilingstocking @poisonivy2267 @i-am-infinite @luvmybbies @bwormie @40nights @nikfigueiredo @plants-world @rainingrainbow @-izzy-rose- @electronictimetravelninja @wolfbc97 @wolfplague @86laura11 @sleepysaffi @lxnvmvrzx @ireads @the-fandom-ness @shadowmararurader @immortaliaslane @littowl @xxbelaa @babypeapoddd @anerolt1014 @cayla0000 @xelladarlingX @friend8142-blog @lily-11-11 @migueloharaswife @interphellar @makridesdragons @whyuclouidngmymind @reallycrispysheep
C is for Comfort and Chemistry
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist
Week 2 of Training Together The sun’s just high enough to sting their eyes. Y/n wipes sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, breath steady, focused.
Across from her, Garrick spins his dagger in his fingers and grins. “Try not to fall for me mid-spar, Gamlyn.”
Y/n arches a brow, smirking. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Tavis.”
They clash. Fast, sharp movements—blades clink, boots scuff the gravel. Every time Garrick gets close, Y/n twists just out of reach, fluid, elegant. At one point she spins him around and pins him flat on his back, one knee to his chest, hand against his collarbone. His breath hitches.
Her grin? Devastating. “Falling for me yet?”
His hands grip her waist in mock surrender, and he huffs out a breathless, “You’re insufferable.”
Behind them, Ridoc gags audibly. “I swear to the skies if either of you breathes another flirty one-liner I’m launching myself off the cliffs.”
Rhiannon snorts “Do it. I want to see if you bounce.”
Week 3 Y/n sits beside Garrick in the common room, scowling at a complex physics problem. Her notes are a mess of half-scribbled equations. She groans and drops her head onto the table.
“I’m going to launch myself off the cliffs.”
Garrick chuckles and slides the paper closer. “You and Ridoc should form a club.”
She groans louder. “I’m serious. This makes zero sense.”
He leans in, shoulder brushing hers. “You’re trying to brute force it. Think momentum, not just force.”
She looks up at him, brows furrowed. “You sound hot when you say science things.”
Garrick falters for a second, then smirks. “That’s because I am hot when I say science things.”
She snorts, nudging his arm. “Be a useful hot nerd and help me then..”
“Only because you asked nicely.”
Week 4 Y/n sits beside Garrick during dinner. Their trays are practically touching. She steals a fry off his plate without asking.
“Really?” he deadpans.
“I fly dragons. I get fries.”
Sawyer leans across the table, eyes wide. “Okay, is this a thing now?”
“We’re just friends,” Y/n says immediately, too casually.
Rhiannon raises a brow. “Sure.”
Violet smirks behind her cup. “Totally.”
Sloane snorts and lowly, “Absolutely. Just friends. The kind that can’t stop eye fucking each other.”
Y/n doesn’t dignify that with a response. Garrick flips them all off without looking up from his food.
Bodhi snorts. “Ah, young love.”
Week 5 Imogen stands by the sparring ring, arms crossed.
She watches as Y/n flips Garrick onto the mat with a laugh. He groans dramatically, but doesn’t make a move to push her off. His hands settle easily at her waist—too easily. Too familiar.
They’re both laughing.
Imogen’s heart twists uncomfortably.
She had chemistry with Garrick once. Sparks, quick flirtation, shared jokes. But it had never looked like this. Not the kind of electric tension that makes everyone look twice. Not the kind that grows deeper with every glance, every joke, every tiny touch.
And gods, the worst part? She likes Y/n. Ridiculously easy to like. Clever. Kind. Infuriatingly cool.
Imogen forces her eyes away and walks off before Garrick catches her staring.
Focus, she tells herself. You’re better than this.
But deep down, she knows. The minute Y/n showed up, the game changed.
Week 6 They’re walking toward their next lecture when Ridoc finally explodes.
“Do you have to sit next to him at every meal, Y/n?”
She blinks at him. “You literally sat with Iris every day last week.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Ridoc flails for logic. “Because you’re my sister! And he’s… he’s him!”
“Friends, Ridoc. We’re just friends,” Y/n says sweetly.
Sawyer, huffs, mock insulted “The kind of friends that make eye contact across a battlefield and feel things.”
Rhiannon smirks “The kind of friends who pin each other like it’s foreplay.”
Y/n scoffs, “Okay, rude.”
Garrick just walks past, smirking as he slaps a hand on Ridoc’s shoulder. “Relax, brother.”
“Don’t you dare call me that!”
Xaden and Bodhi, not even trying to hide their laughter, exchange amused looks behind Ridoc.
Garrick just winks.
The hall at Basgiath is buzzing, filled with low music and the buzz of end-of-day adrenaline. Laughter. Drinks. Riders and cadets mingling in the warm glow of torchlight. A rare night.
Ridoc Gamlyn is in his element.
He leans against the edge of a long table, charming smile locked and loaded. His target? A tall, silver-eyed second-year with a wicked laugh and a weakness for sarcastic banter. He’s just about to close the deal—words smooth, hand brushing theirs lightly—when his gaze shifts for a split second.
And there.
Across the room, leaning far too comfortably against the stone wall—
Is Y/n.
Standing far too close to Garrick.
They’re angled toward each other like they’re sharing secrets, heads dipped slightly, voices low. And the smirk on Y/n’s face? With her eye looking up at him all doe?
Ridoc immediately knows. That smirk is the “I’m up to something” smirk. The “I’m playing with fire and I like it” smirk. The "I have him right where I want him" gaze.
And then it happens.
Y/n, without hesitation, reaches for Garrick’s drink and takes a sip—like it’s hers. Garrick doesn’t even blink. Just tilts his head, smirks a little.
Ridoc freezes mid-sentence.
Across the room, Rhiannon notices first.
“Oh. Oh my gods. He’s malfunctioning.”
Sawyer leans forward, serious. “Observe the subject in his natural habitat. The infamous Ridoc Gamlyn, normally a flirtation apex predator, has just witnessed his younger sister engage in intimate drink-sharing behavior.”
“Tragic,” Violet murmurs into her glass, grinning.
“Will he continue the hunt?” Bodhi asks, trying and failing not to laugh.
Xaden, arms crossed and amused as ever, smirks. “He’s calculating whether the emotional damage outweighs the physical effort of dragging Garrick out by his ears.”
Back at the table, Ridoc tries to focus.
He returns to the silver-eyed rider with a flick of his hair and that Gamlyn charm, voice syrupy-smooth. “So… where were we?”
They laugh, thoroughly reeled back in. And Ridoc? Victory.
Until—
That sound.
Y/n’s soft giggle floats across the room, low and warm and full of whatever she’s whispering to Garrick.
Ridoc’s head snaps back.
His eyes narrow. Nope.
He’s halfway across the room in five strides.
But before he can do a thing—
Y/n turns her head, spots him, and her smirk deepens. She leans up on her toes, presses a very deliberate kiss to Garrick’s cheek and laughs as Garrick gives her a smug little smile in return.
“Y/n Esmeralda Gamlyn!” Ridoc gasps, hands flailing dramatically.
Y/n’s already spinning on her heel. “Oops!”
And then she runs.
Ridoc takes off after her, yelling, “Do you want me to age prematurely?! You want me in a grave by graduation?! I swear on Basgaith’s stones—!”
The rest of the squad? In shambles.
Rhiannon’s wheezing. Sawyer’s doubled over. Bodhi’s clutching his side. Violet’s actually crying. Xaden doesn’t even try to stop laughing now, just mutters, “I don't know if she’s the best thing that ever happened to Garrick. Or me.”
Garrick watches the chaos unfold, fingers brushing the cheek Y/n kissed.
He’s still smiling.
And so is Chradh, deep in his head, humming with something that sounds a lot like smug approval.
It's always the small things.
Y/n’s in the dining hall, tucked between Rhiannon and Garrick. She’s reviewing her notes on aerial maneuvers, brow furrowed, muttering about physics being her “mortal enemy.” Garrick leans over to point at her mistake, casually correcting her equation.
She listens… then leans her head right against his shoulder as she scribbles the correction.
No one says anything—yet.
Then it escalates.
She reaches across him, snatches an apple straight from his plate, bites into it without a second thought, and Garrick doesn’t even blink. He just keeps eating.
By the next afternoon, she’s borrowing his sharpening tool for her daggers—without asking.
"Thanks, Tavis," she calls over her shoulder.
"You dull 'em, you polish 'em," he replies smoothly, not even looking up from where he’s braiding new grips onto his daggers.
Sloane, watching this from across the weapons yard, just stares. “She didn’t even ask.”
“She never does,” Rhiannon says, sipping her water with a smirk. “He lets her.”
Violet raises an eyebrow. “She’s got him wrapped.”
But nothing—nothing—prepared them for what happens a week later.
The squad is gathering for flight drills, sun high over the horizon, wind crisp. Y/n walks in late, rubbing sleep from her eyes, hair up in a loose braid. But it’s not her exhaustion anyone notices.
It’s the jacket.
Huge, clearly military-issue, with a deep black lining and silver lettering on the back that spells: “Lieutenant G. Tavis”
Dead. Silence.
“Is that—?” Sloane squints.
“Oh hell no,” Ridoc mutters, voice climbing several octaves as he takes in the massive jacket drowning his sister. “That is not yours.”
Y/n shrugs lazily, like the drama hasn’t even touched her.
“I was cold.”
“You were cold?” Ridoc repeats. “You couldn’t grab a blanket like a normal person? You had to wear his jacket?!”
“Technically, it was closer,” she says, smirking.
From across the field, Imogen sees the jacket.
Her stomach drops. That jacket had always hung from Garrick’s shoulders like second skin, his name stitched proudly across the back. Now?
It’s draped over Y/n like it belongs there.
Quinn places a calming hand on Imogen’s shoulder. “Deep breaths. She’s not doing it to taunt you.”
Imogen doesn’t answer. She’s not sure she believes that.
Meanwhile, Violet, Rhiannon, and Sloane corner Y/n near the dragon pits.
“So…” Violet starts, trying to sound casual. “You and Garrick seem… cozy.”
Rhiannon nods. “Like very cozy.”
Y/n smiles, radiant and completely unaffected. “Chradh and Ailith are mated. We spend a lot of time together, that’s all.”
“No harm, right?” Sloane says, raising a brow.
“None whatsoever,” Y/n chirps, effortlessly sidestepping the trap.
Back with the boys, Ridoc is pacing while Bodhi and Sawyer try so hard not to laugh.
“Friends don’t wear each other’s flight jackets!” Ridoc rants. “That thing still smells like him!”
“She likes the smell,” Bodhi mutters.
Ridoc glares. “You’re not helping!”
Across the courtyard, Xaden leans toward Garrick, who’s lacing his boots, completely unfazed.
“She’s wearing your jacket.”
Garrick doesn’t even look up. “She was cold.”
“You let her eat off your plate.”
“She was hungry.”
“She took your sharpening tool.”
“She dulled her blade.”
“You’re not exactly hiding it well,” Xaden says.
Garrick raises a brow. “Hiding what? We’re friends. Teammates. Partners.”
Xaden just laughs. “Sure, Lieutenant. Whatever you say.”
Imogen, not far off, watches Garrick’s casual ease and the fondness in his voice when he mentions Y/n—and swallows hard. Whatever this is between them, it’s blooming in plain sight. And it’s killing her.
Meanwhile, Y/n, back at Ailith’s side, pulls the jacket tighter around herself, the scent of leather and Garrick anchoring her. She leans into Ailith’s warmth, smiling softly to herself.
She’s comfortable.
And everyone else?
Completely wrecked.
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Intertwined and tied
Garrick Tavis x Reader
Masterlist
The wind shifted the moment Ailith’s wings unfurled. Massive, sleek, and powerful, the deep navy-blue dragon crouched low, her tail flicking once before her eyes gleamed.
Ready, sweet one?
Y/n, perched carefully between her shoulders, her hands gripping the warm scales behind Ailith’s neck, smiled wide, hair wild in the wind. She didn’t even hesitate.
“Always.”
Then Ailith launched.
The force of takeoff rattled the earth, sending dust into the faces of the squad watching from below.
She soared—with a kind of command and elegance that turned every single head still lingering on the training field.
Up and up, Ailith flew, faster than most dragons dared on first rides, but Y/n? She leaned into it, laughing wildly as they ascended into the clouds.
And then Ailith twisted—a spiral dive that most seasoned riders wouldn’t attempt on a clear day, much less their first time in the air.
Y/n screamed—not in fear, but in pure, unfiltered joy.
On the ground, Ridoc clutched his head. “What the actual fuck is she doing?!” “She’s...laughing?!” Mira noted, shading her eyes with a grin.
“Look at her posture,” Brennan said, the analytical older sibling in full force. “She’s not fighting Ailith’s movements at all. She’s moving with her—like she was born for this.”
Up in the sky, Ailith dipped suddenly—a stomach-lurching, stomach-losing drop.
Ridoc nearly choked. “SHE’S GOING TO DIE—”
“She’s fine,” Violet muttered, exasperated but amused. “I mean, emotionally? You’re clearly not, but she’s fine.”
“I’m going to kill Garrick,” Ridoc hissed, throwing a look so sharp at the man that it could’ve pierced dragon-hide.
“I didn’t ask for my dragon’s mate to pick your sister!” Garrick defended, face flushed with helpless panic and something dangerously close to adoration. “And I’m not even allowed to help her?! I should be teaching her how to shield!”
“Oh, hell no,” Ridoc barked. “Xaden and Violet can help her with that. Not you.”
“Why the fuck not me?”
“Because I’ve seen you, Garrick. You’ll turn it into some weird, slow-burn lesson that ends with flirting and shirtless sparring and gods know what else—”
Sawyer wheezed. “Slow-burn lesson?!”
Bodhi doubled over laughing. “Someone write that down. This is great.”
Rhiannon wiped tears from her eyes. “Oh, he’s gone feral.”
Xaden, standing cool and collected with his arms crossed, barely kept a straight face. “I swear, I’ve never appreciated Ridoc more than I do in moments like this.”
Violet elbowed him. “You're the worst.”
“I'm the worst? Y/n is the best thing to ever happen to this quadrant. Pure entertainment.”
Up in the sky, Ailith let out a triumphant roar and spun again—an aerial twirl that had no business being pulled off so smoothly. Y/n just held on tighter, laughing into the wind like she belonged there.
Because she did.
She looked like she’d always belonged in the skies.
You are mine, sweet one, Ailith said warmly, flying effortlessly through the clouds. And you were made to fly.
The moment Ailith’s massive form touched the ground in a powerful, graceful landing, Y/n slid off with ease, landing lightly on her feet. Her curls were wild from the wind, her cheeks flushed, and her smile blinding. She reached up, pulling her goggles off her eyes and onto her head—
“Y/n!” Violet and Rhiannon came barreling toward her, breathless and beaming.
“You’re a natural!” Violet shouted, arms flung around her.
“You looked like you’d been flying your whole life!” Rhiannon added, hugging her from the other side.
Y/n laughed—light and infectious—as she leaned into the embrace. “That was incredible. Gods, I loved it! The speed, the air, the sky—” She turned, eyes still sparkling. “I felt free. Like nothing could touch me.”
Brennan, who had been quietly observing her reaction with a knowing expression, stepped forward. “You meant what you said? About loving it?”
“More than anything,” Y/n nodded.
“Then I have to ask.” His voice dropped just enough for the others to hush around them. “Do you want to officially join the revolution?”
Y/n blinked. “Is that even a question? Hell yes.”
Brennan’s smile was subtle but deeply approving. “Then welcome to the cause. The council and I agreed that, given your late entry, you won’t be placed on missions until you’ve developed your signet. But Professor Devera’s reports speak very highly of your insights.” He nodded. “You’ll be attending every mission debrief until then.”
Y/n grinned. “I’m in.”
But her smile faltered when she heard Ridoc shouting.
“—I don’t care if Chradh is your soul-bound flying spouse, Garrick! I swear to Malek, if you go anywhere near her during a mating cycle, I will rip your throat out with my bare hands!”
Y/n turned, confused, to see Ridoc aggressively poking a very done-with-life Garrick in the chest.
Garrick, for his part, stood still with a tired sigh, arms crossed as Ridoc ranted in a full big-brother breakdown. “It’s not my fault our dragons are mates, Ridoc.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass!” Ridoc roared. “When they’re mating, you will be across the damn continent. You understand me? I will personally make sure you’re shackled to a tree—under a mountain—in a different kingdom.”
Y/n raised her eyebrows. “What the hell are they talking about?”
Violet sighed dramatically. “Oh, allow us.” She motioned between herself and Xaden, who looked far too amused.
Xaden smirked. “When your dragons are mates, like Sgaeyl and Tairn are, and they, well… mate, their emotions can override yours. If you don’t shield correctly, the lust and adrenaline can completely take over.”
Y/n blinked. “You’re saying if Ailith and Chradh mate…”
“You and Garrick could… end up acting it out,” Violet said delicately.
“Very physically,” Xaden added, deadpan.
Y/n blinked once. Twice. Then burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s what all this is about?”
On cue, she looked at Garrick—who, despite being glared at like he’d committed a war crime, managed to meet her eyes with an unbothered, mischievous grin. He mouthed “I’ll find you later,” and gave her a slow wink.
Y/n shook her head, laughing harder. “Well, that’s reassuring.”
Ridoc exploded.
“NO. NOPE. NO YOU'RE NOT. HELL NO. I don’t give a damn that he’s two years older or built like a fucking war god—I will end him.”
Bodhi wheezed. “Someone hold Ridoc back—”
“I want to see Garrick try something,” Ridoc growled, pacing like a feral animal. “I’ll dropkick him off the flight field!”
Sawyer fell to the ground laughing. “I’m crying. I can’t— I actually can’t breathe.”
Rhiannon was doubled over, clinging to Bodhi for balance. “This is the best day of my life.”
Imogen, standing off to the side, simply looked stunned. “I… I think I liked him better when he was sarcastic and emotionally detached.”
Xaden, watching the chaos unfold, turned to Violet with his usual dry calm. “You know, I was worried we wouldn’t have enough entertainment between missions.”
Violet shook her head, smiling. “She really is the best thing to ever happen to us.”
Meanwhile, Y/n had finally turned her attention to Ailith, who was watching with what could only be described as smug amusement.
They are… very loud, sweet one.
Y/n laughed through the bond, her heart full. You’re not wrong.
Then, a little more shyly, she added, You’re beautiful, you know that?
Ailith’s answer was quick and warm.
Flattery will get you everywhere.
The Cliffside Near the Flight Fields – Just Before Sunset
Garrick had waited. Waited for the crowd to disperse, for Ridoc to be distracted—preferably by food, chaos, or that flyer he keeps on hitting on—and for Y/n to be his for a moment. When the opportunity finally presented itself, he appeared at her side like a shadow out of nowhere, leaning close and murmuring in that smooth, low voice of his:
“Come with me.”
Y/n raised a brow but didn’t hesitate. “Stealing me away so soon? Scandalous.”
Garrick grinned, already leading her down a worn path between the rocks and trees. “You say that like you didn’t want to be stolen.”
“Touché.”
They walked in easy silence for a moment, until the forest broke open to a wide, quiet cliffside. Standing there like a statue of ancient strength, wings tucked in and eyes gleaming in the light of the setting sun, was Chradh. Deep brown with streaks of bronze around his horns and talons, he looked like the earth itself had come alive to guard something sacred.
Y/n’s breath caught slightly. “He’s beautiful.”
Chradh lowered his massive head, bowing slightly toward her.
Greetings, Y/n Gamlyn.
Y/n dipped her head respectfully, feeling the weight and power in his presence. “It’s an honor.”
At that moment, Ailith sauntered in, her dark blue scales almost black under the golden hour light. She brushed her snout gently beneath Chradh’s chin. He lowered his head further so their muzzles touched in a soft, affectionate motion.
Y/n smiled, then tilted her head toward Garrick. “So… are we officially intertwined now?”
Garrick let out a breath somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Yeah. We are.”
His tone was serious now, grounded. “When dragons mate—really mate—they bond in a way even deeper than our own rider bonds. If one dies, the other follows. It’s… a kind of grief that no dragon can survive.”
Y/n blinked. “That’s—intense.”
“They also can’t spend too much time apart,” he continued, watching the pair of dragons with something bordering reverence. “It affects their health. Their energy. They get restless, even sick.”
Y/n glanced at Ailith, who was still pressed against Chradh, looking quite pleased.
Garrick huffed. “They usually bond within the same year. Ailith, though is complicated—”
Excessively selective, you mean?
Ailith’s sharp voice echoed into all of their heads. Garrick didn’t flinch. Chradh let out an amused, rumbling huff.
Y/n grinned. “Well, she did pick me, so she’s clearly got taste.”
Garrick’s eyes sparkled. “I never said her standards weren’t impeccable.”
Y/n laughed. “What about the shields?”
“Ah, yes. Shielding,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let’s just say… I’ve learned the hard way. I’ve woken up from some, uh, bond-induced incidents with more than a few regrets.”
“Regrets?” Y/n teased, eyes dancing.
Garrick smirked, adopting that familiar, flirtatious edge. “Mostly about timing.” He stepped a little closer, just enough for her to feel his presence. “I’ll help you learn. Little by little. We can practice.”
Y/n tilted her head, playing right into it. “Practice, huh? Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Oh, I can think of better names.”
They shared a grin before Y/n stepped around him, walking slowly toward the edge of the cliff, the wind catching her curls.
Garrick followed but kept just behind her. “You really looked like a rider up there, you know. Like the sky’s always been yours.”
She smiled softly. “It felt that way. Like I could breathe again.”
Garrick watched her, quieter now. “How are you feeling? After all of this—the modified Gauntlet, the presentation, bonding with a dragon most cadets would sell their soul for…”
She turned toward him. “Like I’ve earned my place. Like I’m not just Ridoc’s little sister from Grevania anymore.”
“You never were just anything,” he said firmly.
That made her glance at him longer.
He stepped beside her. “You didn’t just survive your own version of Basgaith—you dominated it. And now, Ailith’s bonded to you. You’re part of the revolution. You’re here.”
Y/n looked at him with something deeper than amusement then, something warmer.
“I still remember when you came into our village,” she said softly. “Tall, silent, trying to look intimidating and only half-succeeding.”
“Only half? Rude.”
“You were watching me dance,” she added. “Trying to look like you weren’t, but so obviously were.”
Garrick smirked. “And here I thought I was subtle.”
“You’re about as subtle as a dragon’s roar.”
“I’ll take it,” he said, nudging her shoulder gently with his
Their laughter had faded into something quieter now. A shared warmth. Every word between them dipped in that velvety kind of flirtation that didn’t need to be rushed—just savored.
Garrick leaned against a rock as Y/n paced slowly in front of him, spinning a loose thread from her jacket between her fingers, her eyes flickering up at him every now and then—challenging. Amused. Dangerous.
“I still don’t get how you can look that calm after a flight like that,” Garrick murmured, watching her with a slight tilt of his head. “Ailith practically tried to kill you.”
Y/n smirked. “She was just showing me what she can do. Testing my limits.”
“And you passed with flying colors?”
“I danced through them.”
He chuckled, low and quiet, the sound of it vibrating between them. “You’re terrifying, you know that?”
“You like it.”
Garrick exhaled slowly, eyes locked on hers. “Maybe I do.”
The distance between them shrank. Not all at once—just in the subtle kind of way that happened when two people leaned a little more with each sentence, stood a little closer with every look, until there was barely enough air between them to breathe.
Y/n’s voice dropped an octave, smooth and sweet. “Is this the part where you try to kiss me, Tavis?”
He grinned, slow and crooked, gaze dipping briefly to her lips. “Would it be so bad if I did?”
“Hmm.” Her smirk deepened.
He started to lean in. One hand brushing near her waist, his breath mingling with hers, lips barely a breath away—
And suddenly—
Y/n’s finger pressed gently against his mouth.
Garrick blinked, caught off guard, lips frozen against the tip of her finger.
She raised a single brow, full smirk blooming. Then, without warning, she tugged him forward by the collar of his shirt. Just enough for his chest to bump softly into hers. Just enough to inhale the faint, sweet perfume clinging to her skin—citrus and spice and something utterly intoxicating.
Her lips brushed against his ear as she whispered, voice dripping silk:
“I’m not that easy, Tavis.”
And just like that, she was gone.
Slipping out of his grip, she winked, then sauntered away toward Ailith—her hips swaying in a way that had his thoughts absolutely derailing. She didn’t even look back before mounting the navy-scaled dragon. Ailith let out a small, victorious huff before they took off into the night sky, heading toward Riorson Estate.
Garrick just stood there.
Blinking.
Trying to remember how to function.
“…Shit,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair and letting out a stunned laugh.
She’s going to run circles around you, Chradh said dryly through the bond, the humor in his dragon’s voice unmistakable.
“Yeah,” Garrick exhaled, still staring at the darkening sky. “I know.”
And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t mind being outmatched.
Not one bit.
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