⋆·˚ ༘ * GARRETT HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ
𐙚 his soulmate is a bookworm
the moment he meets you, he knows.
it’s like the whole world stills, and suddenly, the nomadic life he’s lived for centuries feels dull in comparison to the warmth radiating from you.
you, with your cozy sweaters, your vintage dresses that hug your curves just right, and the scent of old books and spiced tea lingering around you.
garrett is fascinated by your world.
he’s been all over, seen wars, revolutions, and the rise and fall of empires, but nothing is as captivating as the little expressions you make when you’re deep in a story.
the furrow of your brow when something angsty happens, the soft smile when there’s a romantic moment. he drinks it all in like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
sometimes, he playfully nudges your book down with his finger just to see you huff at him before he grins and kisses your forehead.
he could spend eternity just sitting beside you, listening as you excitedly ramble about your latest read.
garrett likes tracing his fingers over your bookshelves.
he likes the feel of the worn spines, the way some books have little annotations in the margins, proof of how much you’ve loved them.
he always asks which ones are your favorites, and even though he’s not much of a reader himself, he remembers every single title you mention.
one night, you find him idly flipping through one of your books, his thumb running over your underlined passages, and when you ask what he’s doing, he just shrugs. “trying to see the world the way you do, sweetheart.”
he has zero concept of ‘not interrupting’ while you’re reading.
he tries, he really does, but then you shift on the couch, and your sweater slips off one shoulder, revealing the soft curve of your skin, and suddenly, he has to touch you.
“that book’s been getting more attention than me for the past two hours, sweetheart,” he murmurs, trailing cool fingers up your arm. “think i should be jealous?”
he becomes your personal heater.
you love the way he feels. cool against your skin, soothing when you’re wrapped up in a thick knit sweater.
he loves that you always gravitate toward him in the colder months, burying yourself against his chest with a cup of tea in hand.
garrett is an old-school romantic.
maybe it’s your style, the soft curls in your hair, the way your dresses cinch at the waist like something out of a ‘50s love story, but he finds himself slipping into that old-fashioned charm without even meaning to.
he holds doors, kisses your knuckles, and when he pulls you into a slow dance in the middle of your living room, it feels like something out of a classic film.
garrett spoils you in ways you don’t even realize.
you’ll casually mention a book you’ve been wanting, and the next day, it’s sitting on your bedside table.
he finds a dress in a style he knows you love and leaves it draped over the back of your reading chair.
he never makes a big deal out of it, just smirks when you thank him and says, “what can i say? i like seeing you happy.”
he builds your book collection.
you mention an out-of-print novel you’ve been searching everywhere for? consider it yours by the next time you see him.
he’s lived long enough to know where to find the rarest books, and he loves the way your eyes light up when he presents you with a new addition to your shelves.
your bay window nook becomes his favorite place.
he’s never been one to stay still for long, but he finds himself lingering in your cozy little reading corner more often than not.
sometimes, he pretends to read just so he has an excuse to stay close, watching the way your fingers trace the pages, the way your expression changes with every twist in the story.
he insists on carrying you to bed when you fall asleep in your book nook.
it’s become a routine at this point.
you curl up in the oversized chair by the bay window, reading until your eyes grow heavy.
the next thing you know, you’re waking up tucked beneath warm blankets with garrett beside you, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm.
“you should really stop falling asleep in uncomfortable places, doll,” he teases, even though he secretly loves any excuse to hold you.
garrett is endlessly fascinated by your love of tea.
he likes watching you make it. likes the ritual of it, the way you hum softly while you carefully select a blend, measure out the leaves, and steep them to perfection.
the first time you make a cup just for him he’s oddly touched. “you really are something else, aren’t you?” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.
and even though he can’t taste it, he loves when you let him hold the warm mug just so he can feel the heat in his hands.
he picks up on your favorites, the ones that help you sleep, the ones that comfort you after a long day.
he doesn’t need to drink it to appreciate the warmth it brings to your life.
you introduce him to the concept of cozy nights in.
for someone who’s spent most of his existence constantly on the move, the idea of just staying home, wrapped in soft blankets with you, is entirely foreign but he loves it.
he’ll stretch out on the couch, letting you rest your head on his chest while you read aloud to him, your voice a soothing melody against the quiet crackle of the fireplace.
garrett gets jealous of fictional love interests.
he doesn’t realize it at first, but the more you gush about certain book characters, the more he feels the need to prove himself.
“oh, so this mr. darcy guy gets all the praise for being broody and romantic?” he pulls you into his lap with an easy smirk. “sweetheart, i’ve been broody for centuries. where’s my credit?”
he adores your vintage aesthetic.
he has a deep appreciation for your style. the way your 1950s-style dresses hug your curves just right, the delicate lace trims, the softness of your sweaters.
sometimes, when you’re bustling around the house, he catches himself just… watching.
taking in the way the fabric sways with your movement, how effortlessly beautiful you are. “damn, i’m so lucky” he murmurs to himself.
he worships every inch of you with kisses and whispered praises, never letting a single insecurity cross your mind.
he’s incredibly tactile with you.
he loves the softness of you, the way you fit against him so perfectly.
his hands are always on you. holding your waist, brushing your hair back, tracing the dip of your spine when you lean against him.
if you ever feel self-conscious, he shuts it down immediately. “sweetheart, do you have any idea how perfect you are?” he doesn’t just say it, he shows it, again and again, until there’s not a single doubt left in your mind.
garrett learns to slow down for you.
he’s always lived like the wind. fast, untamed, never lingering in one place for too long. but with you, he realizes that not all moments need to be fleeting.
there’s something profound in the stillness, in the quiet evenings spent wrapped in your arms, in the way you sip your tea and turn the pages of your book as if there’s all the time in the world.
your home, with its overflowing bookshelves and warm, inviting atmosphere, has become his sanctuary.
he still has that wanderer’s spirit, still loves adventure, but suddenly, he wants to share all of it with you.
he wants to take you to hidden bookshops in old european cities, dance with you under the northern lights, watch you experience the world with that same wonder you get when you open a brand-new book.
because for the first time in his long, long life, he’s found something worth staying for.
he might be a nomad at heart, but you?
you are the one place he never wants to leave.