I Thought It Was Her
Garrick Tavis x reader
Warnings: Nothing really just a little bit of jealously and angst
SS: I’m so sorry i fell off with writing, I finally finished with this piece that was in my drafts for months
The first time you realized you were in love with Garrick Tavis, he didn’t even notice you.
You were younger then—still trailing after your brother like a shadow, still trying to prove you belonged with the group instead of being Xaden Riorson’s little sister. Garrick had laughed at something Xaden said, head tipped back, sunlight catching the sharp line of his jaw, and you’d felt it—sharp and sudden, like a blade slipping between your ribs.
Years later, nothing had changed.
Except everything had.
You weren’t a kid anymore. You had crossed the parapet. You bonded a dragon. You were a rider. You were strong. Capable. Deadly, even.
And still… Garrick didn’t see you.
—
You spot them across the courtyard.
Garrick and Imogen.
Again.
Your chest tightens before you can stop it, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeve as you pretend to scan the training schedules posted along the stone wall. But your eyes keep drifting back—traitorous things.
Imogen leans casually against a pillar, arms crossed, that knowing smirk on her lips. Garrick stands close—too close—head dipped slightly like he’s saying something quieter, something meant just for her.
She laughs.
Your stomach drops.
Gods, of course she laughs.
Imogen is everything you’re not—confident, sharp-tongued, effortlessly magnetic. She doesn’t second-guess every word. She doesn’t stumble over her feelings or hide behind sarcasm and distance.
And Garrick…
Garrick looks comfortable with her.
Your throat tightens as you look away quickly, heat prickling behind your eyes.
“Don’t,” you mutter under your breath. “You’re not doing this again.”
But you are.
You always do.
—
You avoid him for the rest of the day.
Which isn’t hard—Basgiath is chaos, and you make sure to stay buried in it. Training. Drills. Anything to keep your mind from wandering back to the image of Garrick leaning in toward Imogen, that soft almost-smile he never seems to give anyone else.
By evening, your exhaustion feels earned.
But it doesn’t quiet the ache.
—
You’re halfway down a corridor near the riders’ quadrant when you hear your name.
“Hey—wait.”
Your steps falter.
You know that voice.
Of course you do.
You turn slowly, already bracing yourself.
Garrick jogs up behind you, slightly out of breath, like he’d had to chase you down. His dark hair is a little disheveled, his expression… tense?
“Been looking for you,” he says.
Your heart does something stupid.
You cross your arms, forcing your face into something neutral. “Why?”
He blinks at that, like it’s not the reaction he expected. “I—” He hesitates. “I just… haven’t seen you all day.”
You shrug, looking past him. “Busy.”
There’s a pause.
It stretches too long.
“…Right,” he says finally, quieter.
Something twists in your chest, but you ignore it.
You’re not doing this. Not tonight.
“Shouldn’t you be with Imogen?” you ask, the words slipping out sharper than you intended.
Silence.
You immediately regret it—but pride keeps you from taking it back.
Garrick frowns. “What?”
You let out a short, humorless laugh. “I’ve seen you two. You don’t have to pretend.”
His confusion deepens. “Pretend—what are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on,” you snap, frustration finally cracking through. “You’re always with her. Talking. Laughing. You look at her like—” You cut yourself off, jaw tightening. “It’s obvious.”
He stares at you.
Actually stares.
And then—completely unexpectedly—he runs a hand down his face and exhales something that almost sounds like a laugh.
“…You think I like Imogen?”
You freeze.
“Well, you clearly—”
“I don’t.”
The words land hard. Immediate. Certain.
You blink. “What?”
“I don’t like Imogen,” he repeats, softer now, but no less firm.
Your brain struggles to catch up. “But you’re always—”
“Talking to her,” he finishes. “Yeah. Because she’s been helping me.”
“Helping you with what?”
He hesitates.
And for the first time since you’ve known him, Garrick Tavis looks… nervous.
It throws you off more than anything else.
“With… this,” he says finally, gesturing vaguely between the two of you.
Your heart stutters.
“I don’t understand.”
Another breath. Slower this time.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you something,” he admits. “Without completely ruining whatever this is between us. Or making things weird with Xaden. Or—” he huffs a quiet laugh “—making a complete idiot out of myself.”
You stare at him.
Your pulse is loud in your ears now.
“…Tell me what?”
His gaze meets yours fully then, and whatever you see there makes your breath catch.
“I like you.”
The world goes very, very still.
“You—” Your voice falters. “No, you don’t.”
His brows knit together. “I do.”
“For how long?” you challenge, because this has to be a mistake. A misunderstanding. Something.
He exhales slowly. “Longer than I should have let it go without saying anything.”
Your chest tightens painfully.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” you whisper. “You barely even look at me half the time.”
“That’s because every time I do, I forget how to act like a normal person,” he shoots back, a little exasperated. “You think I enjoy that?”
You blink, completely thrown.
“I thought you hated me for a while,” he adds, quieter now. “You kept avoiding me. Shutting me out.”
A hollow laugh escapes you. “I was avoiding you because I thought you were in love with someone else.”
“…Gods,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly. “Imogen is going to love how badly I screwed this up.”
Despite everything, a weak smile tugs at your lips.
It fades quickly.
“You really… don’t like her?” you ask again, softer this time.
He steps closer.
Not too close—but enough that your breath catches.
“No,” he says. “I like you.”
The sincerity in his voice makes something in your chest crack open.
Years of quiet longing. Of watching from the sidelines. Of convincing yourself you weren’t enough.
“…Why didn’t you just tell me?” you whisper.
His expression softens.
“Because you’re Xaden Riorson’s sister,” he says simply. “And one of the strongest riders here. And I didn’t want to be another person who complicated your life.”
Your throat tightens.
“You don’t,” you say. “You never did.”
There’s a moment, a fragile, uncertain pause where everything hangs in the balance.
Then, softly: “I’ve liked you for years, Garrick.”
His breath catches.
“Yeah?” he asks, almost disbelieving.
You nod.
And that’s all it takes. The tension between you shifts—something unspoken finally settling into place.
Not perfect. Not simple. But real.
And for the first time, when Garrick looks at you—
You don’t feel invisible