#garrick

Battle strategies. Enemy weaknesses. The exact second Ridoc was about to say something stupid. He noticed everything.

Except, apparently, you.

You lounged across the commons bench like you owned it, boots on the table, dagger spinning lazily between your fingers. “Gar,” you said sweetly, eyes flicking up to him, “you gonna keep brooding over there or come sit with the fun people?”

Ridoc snorted. “Careful. If you flirt with him any harder, he might short-circuit.”

You grinned, sharp and wicked. “Please. I flirt like this with everyone.”

That was Garrick’s problem.

You did flirt with everyone. Shamelessly. Casually. Like it was a sport and you were going for a record. You winked at first-years, threw innuendos at professors when they weren’t looking, and once told Bodhi his arms were “tragically distracting.”

So obviously, Garrick told himself, the way you leaned into his space was meaningless. The way your voice dropped when you said his name. The way you never actually touched anyone else but somehow always found excuses to grab his sleeve, his shoulder, his wrist.

Meaningless.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” he muttered, stacking reports with more force than necessary.

You leaned closer instead. “Wow. Kicking me out already? I thought we had something special.”

Ridoc’s eyebrows climbed. “You two are exhausting.”

“Leave,” Garrick and you said at the same time.

Ridoc pointed between you. “You’re both idiots.” Then he left, laughing.

Silence fell—thick, charged, buzzing like a drawn bowstring.

You tilted your head, studying Garrick like a puzzle you’d almost solved. “You know,” you said lightly, “for someone who thinks I flirt with everyone, you get real tense about it.”

“I don’t,” he replied instantly.

You hummed. “Liar.”

He finally looked at you then, really looked. The smirk was there, familiar and infuriating, but your eyes were sharper than usual. Focused. On him.

“You’ve never once told me to stop,” you said. “Not when I sit too close. Not when I tease you. Not when I make it painfully obvious I like you.”

His brain snagged on that last word.

“…You what?”

You sighed, dramatic. “Gods, you really are oblivious.”

Then you stood, closed the last inch between you, and did the one thing Garrick had never prepared for.

You grabbed the front of his jacket and kissed him.

Not gentle. Not hesitant. A confident, reckless kiss that stole his breath and all of his carefully built assumptions. His hands froze at his sides, mind blank, heart slamming.

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Oh,” you said, amused. “That explains a lot.”

Garrick stared at you, wide-eyed.

“Oh,” he echoed faintly.

Then, louder, dawning. “OHH.”

You laughed, bright and delighted, and kissed him again—slower this time, like you knew exactly what you were doing.

When you finally stepped back, Garrick was still processing, cheeks flushed, expression stunned.

“So,” you said, rocking back on your heels. “Still think I flirt with everyone the same way?”

He swallowed. Hard.

“…No.”

You grinned. “Good. Because I don’t share.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

sfw 𐦍

Possessive. If you thought Xaden was bad, Garrick learned from the best. You get injured? Even if its just a paper cut? Garrick is already throwing you over his shoulder, getting you away from harms way.

Soft. Despite being possessive, Garrick is a softie at heart. When he's not by Xaden's side, doing supply runs, or teaching cadets in signet sparring--he is instantly curled up at your side, in bed, until further notice. He craves soft, intimate moments with his partner, especially when its simply existing together.

Priority. Even though it seems like him, along with other marked ones, will prioritize Violet over anyone else, I still feel like Garrick would literally burn the world for his partner. He knows you can stand your own ground, but the minute you're in danger, he's by your side. Plus, he can be in two places at once.

Pet names. Garrick 100% prefers calling you a pet name over your actual name, especially in public. In fact, he absolutely adores it when you get flustered when he refers to you as such in front of your squadmates. Honorary mentions: babygirl, angel, honey bear (iykyk), baby, sweetheart.

Time together. Garrick craves spending time with his partner, even if it's doing things that aren't romantic. He'll find any excuse if it means he gets to be in your presence. You need a sparring partner? He's immediately dumping any orders Xaden gave to him onto Bodhi. You want to read the book you've been neglecting for weeks? He's sitting next to you, cocooning you with his arms as he basks in your presence.

Love language. Garrick's love language is physical touch, he loves feeling your skin underneath his at any given moment. You're sitting next to him in battle brief, meals, and classes? Hand on your thigh. You're standing next to him, even if you are moments away before going into battle? Hand around your waist. You just survived said battle? He's eating up the distance between you two and pulling you into his arms.

𖤓 nsfw

Dominant. Garrick is the dominant one in the relationship, both in and out of bed. Even though there are rare moments where he'll let you be on top--don't be fooled, he's still the one in control. He adores the way your body reacts to being controlled. He loves the pleasure he gets from controlling your own pleasure.

Marking. Garrick loves marking you up. Wherever he can get his mouth and hands on, there will be marks the next day. Your neck? His mouth is sucking on any visible skin, especially the spot under your ear that drives you wild. Your chest? He'll give extra attention to your chest, teasing you as you beg for more. Your hips? There'll be hand-shaped bruises on it the next day from how hard he was gripping you. Your ass? Depending on the position, your ass will be bruised and red from the amount of slaps and grips he gave it the night before.

Kinks. Garrick would be open to trying new things, but he definitely has a size kink. Everyone knows Garrick is a large man, with his broad shoulders, big arms, and tall frame. This also goes for his cock, and he takes great pride in your reactions to the stretch every time.

Oral. Garrick always loves the noises he pulls from your lips when he goes down on you. Especially when he feels your walls squeeze as he fucks you with his tongue, his nose stimulating your clit in a perfect way. And if he's using his fingers? Gods, its over for you. While his fingers sink themselves inside of you, curling and reaching places your own don't, his tongue is sucking and lightly nibbling your folds and clit.

Dirty talk. The words that come from his mouth are dirtier than what he's doing. You swear his words is a form of foreplay, and make you drenched far before he gets to removing your panties. While he’s deep inside your pussy, groaning from the way your gummy walls squeeze around him, he'll still be saying sinful things in your ears, words that tip you over the edge.

Garrick's Pov

I stand in front of the mirror, chest bare. Every scar, muscle, and mark exposed. I can't help it when my eyes drift to the picture frame on the bedside table. It was done not even two months ago, when Y/n, and I had gone to Chantara and a street artist drew us. It captured our likeness perfectly, down to the smallest detail. At least, it had. Looking at it now, it's clear how much RSC changed me physically. Mentally? Probably even more so.

How will Y/n react when she sees me? Will she still want to be with me? The doubt clouds my mind, choking, and suffocating every good thought out of existence.

Someone knocks at the door, and I hastily throw on a loose shirt, now even looser than it was before. A new wave of self loathing hits, but I quickly banish it so whoever comes in doesn't see.

"Garrick? Are you in here?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm here, come in," I say, and only then does Y/n open the door to enter, despite this being her dorm. She insists we sleep here since as a third year, and a Wingleader, she has the better room. She's always respected my privacy, yet I use that trust to keep secrets from her. Another reason she's too good for me.

As soon as Y/n sets her sights on me, she rushes over, fussing about the light bruising still visible on my face, and arms. Nolon did his best, but he has a lot of people to mend. I know she's doing this because she's worried about me, but her touch makes me sick to my stomach. My skin doesn't feel right, like I'm inside someone else's body, and I hate it.

"I'm okay. Promise, it's nothing serious." I try to placate her, but Y/n is the 'mom friend' and so she completely disregards my words, getting a homemade salve out to help with any lingering injuries. Y/n's mother may have been a rider, but her father was a healer, so she has enough knowledge that lying to her about physical injuries is impossible without a ridiculous amount of effort on my part, so I don't fight it.

Once she's satisfied, Y/n looks up at me with understanding and patience. "Do you want to talk about it? I know it sucks. The first time is especially jarring."

I do not want to talk about it. I want to forget everything. I want to curl up into a ball, and let life pass me by. Y/n had broken the codex, warned me about the interrogation training that happens in our second year. She hadn't said too much, being a Wingleader and all, but she'd said enough for me to get an idea of how it should go. Knowing I'd probably have it worse because I'm marked, she wanted me to be prepared.

And I'd thought I was. A fool's notion. I felt so helpless, like it would never end. Xaden got the brunt of it, and somehow that was worse. Thinking about it made me want to empty the non-existent contents of my stomach.

I think Y/n sees the faraway look in my eyes, because she changes the subject. "Actually, that can wait till tomorrow, you must be tired. Why don't you go take a shower and get ready for bed. I'll bring you up some dinner."

I don't even get to start my protest before she interrupts me, "I know you don't have much of an appetite now, I didn't either, but you should eat something, alright?"

I nod, trying my best attempt at a smile. Y/n lingers by the door, reluctant to leave me.

"Anything you want in particular?"

"Nothing strongly scented," I croak out.

Y/n nods, immediately making her way down the hall as if I've assigned her a mission. It's that devotion, and care she gifts me so easily, as if it were breathing, that tears my heart in two. How am I going to pull myself together for her? She deserves someone strong, but right now, I feel like shattered glass. Broken and ready to cut anyone who dares touch it. I don't want to cut her, not when all she has ever done for me, and the other marked ones is heal.

When I'm done with my shower, I put on the largest shirt I own, concealing as much as possible. Usually I hate wearing loose clothing, now a knot forms at the mere thought of anything that would hint at the body beneath.

I find Y/n sitting on the bed, two slices of plain buttered toast lying next to her. Her expression is rueful as I near with pursed lips.

"I know, not the most appetising meal, but I figured that's for the best," Y/n pushes the plate toward me.

My face apparently pulls up at the food without my knowing, because Y/n's changes to one of pity. I hate it.

"Try? For me?"

I sigh, reluctantly reaching for a piece of toast. It's lukewarm, and I can tell she buttered it herself instead of getting the pre-buttered ones because of the perfect even spread that reaches to all four corners. I bring it up to my mouth, but hesitate at the last second.

"Come on, don't make me use my Wingleader voice."

Her tone is too soft, too kind to hold any weight. She won't force me if I really can't stomach it. I know that. But I want to, for her, just to ease her worries a bit.

I clamber onto the bed, lying on my side beside her with the plate between us. "You shouldn't threaten me with a good time. Your Wingleader voice is hot."

It doesn't have the usual flirtatious note that would normally be second nature. I finally manage to take a bite, albeit a small one.

Y/n tilts her head endearingly. "There he is," she whispers, as if anything louder would break the moment. Break me. I hate it.

I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

She turns to lie on her back, one arm under her head, the other reaches out to stroke the bicep of the arm I've propped my head on in what I'm certain is supposed to be comfort. But it feels wrong. Despite having just showered my skin feels filthy, my mind broken, my faith shaken, and my spirit diminished. Everything is wrong, and overwhelming.

I use my other hand to push hers off. Y/n's eyes flick to me, and then right back up to the ceiling. I can tell she's hurt, but trying not to show it for my benefit, and that just makes me feel worse. I am rapidly careening into a downward spiral, drowning in every emotion I don't have time to deal with. Each one crashes into me, forcing me under, and I don't know how much longer it will be before I lose the strength to keep swimming back up again.

Have I mentioned how much I hate this?

Y/n's Pov

I'm worried about Garrick. It's been a month, and nothing has changed. He's pushing me away, closing himself off, creating distance, both emotional, and physical. It's killing me, what they've done to him, and I'm trying to help but he won't talk to me about it.

I have to wonder if this is more than just RSC. What if I did something wrong? What if he resents me for not telling him more, for not doing more to help the marked ones?

What if he found someone else?

He's been sleeping in his own dorm for the past four nights, grabbing his things from my room every now and again, but always when he knows I won't be there. He's avoiding me. It's obvious, yet he denies it when I ask. I can't go on like this. I have to know.

Which has led me here: in the middle of the dining hall, next to the table Garrick's squad usually sits at instead of with leadership. He is strategically absent from it this evening. A re-occurring thing whenever I'm near.

Xaden doesn't even glance at me before saying, "Garrick isn't here, you just missed him," as if I can't see that for myself. Xaden and I have a strange relationship. We don't get along well enough to be considered friends, or even acquaintances, but there is a mutual acknowledgement of our care for Garrick's well-being that keeps us civil. Barely. He's not easy to get along with.

"I know. I was looking to speak to you, cadet Riorson."

He finally turns to me, brows furrowed.

"Alone."

Xaden gets up from the table, excusing himself smoothly. I lead him to an empty room, and quickly weave a temporary silence ward for privacy.

"I don't suppose you'd like to teach me how to do that," he asks with a raised brow, vaguely gesturing to the invisible ward.

"You'll learn that next year," I respond curtly, and without giving him a chance to argue, I continue speaking, much to his chagrin.

"I'm worried about Garrick. He's been off ever since the first RSC session"

"Makes sense. Did you expect him to bounce back after what happened?"

"Of course not, but this feels different. He hasn't said anything, he refuses to talk about it, and he hasn't touched me since—"

"With all due respect, I don't want to hear about your sex life."

I glare at him from the corner of my eye as I pause my pacing. "You know that's not what I meant." I sigh, turning to face him, "I'm asking you to put aside our differences, and call a truce for now. I'm not speaking to you as a Wingleader or superior officer, I'm speaking to you as someone who cares about Garrick. Please, Xaden."

There is a moment of silence before he nods, barely moving his head at all, but I don't need much.

"Have you noticed any differences in his behaviorisms? Maybe he said something to you? Anything?"

"If Garrick said something to me, I wouldn't betray his trust by telling you. If he hasn't said anything to you, then he doesn't want you to know."

I keep staring at him, waiting for any other details. I know he'd never betray Garrick, I wouldn't expect him to, but as someone who is in his squad, they spend a lot more time together. Xaden is also very observant. If something's different, he'll know. I'm just hoping he trusts me enough to loop me in.

I can see the exact moment Xaden makes the decision. "He has refused to spar with anyone, including me, even in private. He's also been spending a lot more time in the gym at night."

I still, trying to piece together a conclusion with the information given to me. It feels like it's on the tip of my tongue, but I just can't seem to reach it. There is one more thing nagging at me though.

"Has he—" I have to stop and swallow down bile at the very thought, "has he mentioned anyone else?"

Xaden's eyes soften, something I didn't know they were capable of doing. "He's not cheating on you, if that's what you're asking. He would never do that."

"I know." And it's true, I do know that. "I just had to be sure."

We stay like that, marinating in our mutual worry.

I eventually clear my throat, putting on my Wingleader persona. "Thank you, cadet. You can go back to dinner now."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say Xaden hesitated before leaving. Perhaps I'm finally growing on him.

A routine leadership meeting got canceled. I'm hoping word hasn't reached Garrick yet, and that he'll try to sneak into my dorm to grab more of his stuff. If he does, I'll be waiting here for him.

Sure enough, the door open,s and shuts in quick succession, Garrick narrowly slipping through the crack.

It isn't until he takes two more paces inside, that he finally lifts his gaze from the ground, and settles it on me. When he does, his entire body goes rigid, and his eyes widen.

"Y/n," he breathes out, tension squeezing his throat.

"Garrick," I reply calmly, focusing on filing my nails.

"You're supposed to be at the meeting," he manages to say. His voice is soft, but the silence suffocating the room makes it seem horribly loud.

"Meeting got canceled." I wait, inspecting my nails for a bit longer before slicing my gaze into him. My voice remains polite. Conversational, even. For now. "Come. Sit."

He tries to fumble for an excuse. "I- I really should be goi—"

"That was an order, cadet."

I might as well have yelled it with the way he flinches. I can't really order him around, we're both off duty technically, and this is a personal matter. Rank has no place here. He wouldn't dare disobey, though. Not now. He knows he's in deep shit.

Garrick gulps, but ultimately takes a seat on the edge of my bed next to me. I take a deep breath before looking at him.

"Garrick," I start, voice soft, just above a whisper, "I know it's been hard for you. That you're struggling, and I want to help you, but I can't if you won't talk to me. Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it, if only you would let me, because this," I try to cup his cheek, but he flinches away. My face falls, eyes clouding with tears, "it's killing me.

"Help me help you, Garrick. Please. Please."

He gingerly wraps his arm around my body, but it's like they're hovering, as if he's scared to touch me.

"I know you want to help, but I don't think you can. Not with this"

"Let me try," I beg. My voice cracks, and a hot tear streams down my face, immediately getting soaked up by Garrick's shirt.

And at long last, he does. He tells me about what happened in that room. The torment that still follows in his dreams. How the physical changes to his body made him self-conscious. How he felt filthy, broken, and worthless.

Each and every word spoken was like a stab to my own heart, but I kept myself together. Garrick needed me, and I will be there for him like he has been for me.

Once we've both calmed down, and I've wiped his tears away, I crouch in front of him, looking up at his sullen face.

"Garrick. You are everything to me. You mean more than this entire war. I would give up my station, my signet, my home, all of it, if it meant you'd be okay, and I wouldn't regret a thing. Garrick Tavis, I love you. No one else. Just you. I have made a lot of questionable choices in my life, but you were not one of them. I could do my life over, and over again, and the one thing that would always stay the same is choosing you. You are worth everything. And that is not because of muscles, or unblemished skin, it's because of you, who you are."

Tears build once again in the corners of his already reddened eyes, and I gently swipe them away before they have a chance to fall.

An idea comes to mind, and I act on it without a second thought. I take off my shirt, and pants, turning around so my back is to Garrick.

"You see these scars?"

"Yes?" he answers, confused.

"Do you think less of me for them? Worthless? Unlovable?"

"What? No! Of course not! How could I ever—"

"So what makes you think I'd think less of you?"

He doesn't have an answer to that. He merely avoids eye-contact. I trail my hands under the baggy shirt he's been wearing to sleep, slowly pushing it up to give him plenty of time to stop me, but he doesn't. He lets me take it off completely, eyes staring blankly over my shoulder.

I hover my hands over him with feather light touches, each contact filled with reverence, and adoration. My gaze never leaves his face, but he doesn't meet it, as if preparing for inevitable rejection.

Garrick takes in a sharp breath through his nose when my finger tips brush his nipple, his eye lids fluttering at the sensation. I continue to caress every bit of skin, his sides, chest, arms, neck, and only once I've completed my exploration of him do I pull my eyes from his face to look at him.

His chest abruptly stops moving as he holds his breath, waiting for me to pass judgement on all his new scars. Garrick slowly releases it in stuttered intervals while I kiss each one, lingering on any new marks a moment longer.

Once I've done that, I climb back up his body, so I can start at his collarbone, and work my way down.

"You *kiss* are *kiss* the most *kiss* beautiful, *kiss* amazing, *kiss* strong, *kiss* caring, *kiss* and stubborn person I know. *kiss*.

"I love you exactly as you are, for who you are, and I wouldn't change a thing."

I glance up at him to see he's finally looking back at me, his eyes glassy, and throat working with the words he can't choke out.

I remove the need for words by connecting our lips in a desperate kiss. All my love, for him is poured into it as he lets me claim his mouth. It's slow, and soft and I almost never want it to end.

But I have a mission to complete.

Reluctantly, I drag myself away from his lips, smiling to myself when he chases after me. I cup his cheek, and stare into his hazel eyes. Mossy green blending seamlessly into a rich amber.

"I'm going to worship you with such reverence that it will make the gods jealous."

His adam's apple bobs, and I start to slide down his body. Once reaching his waist, I gently tug down the loose grey sweats, and the boxers he was wearing to reveal his cock already at attention.

"Y/n, you don't have to—"

"Shhhh," I hush him, "it's rude to interrupt someone while they are in the middle of worship"

Garrick leans his head back, accepting his fate without a fight.

"Good boy," I croon.

An involuntary groan escapes him at that, his hips lifting off the bed in a silent plea. I put just the tip in my mouth, sucking it ever so gently before pulling off, and blowing cool air on it.

"Y/n," he grunts.

"What did I say about interrupting people's worship?" I ask, tutting at the end. "You should know better."

He nods, fisting the sheets so hard I'm surprised they don't tear. I carefully pry the fabric out of his grip and guide his hands to my head. He's never been one to pull my hair, but he does like to play with it. He says it calms him. They lay there now, fingers sunken into the strands, but he's wound up so tight he's not moving. Poor thing.

I decide to forgo any teasing I had planned. I lick from base to tip before shuffling up his frame to sit on his abs. It's practically muscle memory the way his hand makes a beeline for my centre to help stretch me open for him, snapping my panties and discarding the fabric over the side of the bed. I'm so wet he easily slips in two fingers right from the start, pumping them inside me rhythmically.

Garrick sits up, and I can feel how his stomach muscles flex beneath me, making me moan. His one hand comes up around my neck, pulling me to him so our mouths collide. Even while our tongues fight, his fingers don't miss a beat, and he adds a third. At this point, both of us are breathing hard, and I tangle my fingers in his curls. He might not enjoy pulling my hair, but I love pulling his. Garrick groans into my mouth as I tease the strands, but as much as I'm enjoying this, tonight is about him.

I place both hands firmly on his chest, and allow myself to enjoy the kiss a little longer — I really fucking missed him — before pushing him down. Our mouths disconnect, the string of saliva between us quickly snapping. His pupils have taken over his irises, and he's gulping down oxygen as if he'd just remembered breathing isn't optional.

When his back meets the mattress, he doesn't try to sit up again, allowing me to do with him as I please. My hand goes to his, the one still stretching me open, and I drag it away. He instantaneously puts his fingers in his mouth, licking off my arousal like it's his favourite dessert.

I move to hover over his cock, my own patience dwindling, evident by my hand reaching between us to guide his length inside. I want nothing more than to sink down immediately, but I have enough presence of mind to keep myself from doing so. Yes, Garrick stretched me out, but he's also fucking huge. Sinking down on him quickly would hurt no matter how much he stretches me beforehand.

I bite my lip as the first few inches slip inside. It has been way too long since he was inside me. I can't contain the high pitched whine. Gods, I need more of him.

I marginally lower myself onto his length, pausing every now and then. Garrick doesn't rush me, doesn't complain, he just breathes through it. Once I finally have all of him, I lean forward, resting my forehead upon his.

"Are you at least feeling a little bit better?"

He nods. I elect not to ask for a verbal answer, despite the many times he's asked it of me when I was in a similar state of mental disarray. I will be the bigger person. Sort of. I have to give him some shit.

"And to think you were avoiding this," I chuckle breathily.

"I was being a fool."

"At least you're self aware."

I don't give him a chance to respond. I start bouncing on him, raising my torso back into a sitting position for better vantage. He moans out, loud and unashamed.

His cock reaches places I forgot existed, the ones only he can reach. My hair is a mess, my cunt drooling all over him, and my thighs start to burn. This is the best I've felt in weeks.

I can feel my orgasm building rapidly. Garrick is close too, his hands holding my hips with an iron grip, helping me bounce on him.

We're both moaning like professional porn stars at this point, caution having been thrown to the wind about ten-ish minutes ago. My nails are digging into the skin of his pectorals, leaving crescent indents. Intentionally or not, the force with which he pulls me down upon him has increased in desperation.

"Y/n," I barely hear him say my name over the sound of our wet skin slapping against each other.

"I know baby, I know. Together?"

His eyes are screwed shut, but he still nods vehemently.

"Now!" Tremors wrack through my body, and even Garrick's thigh's shake a bit. We scream each other's names as pleasure flows through us. I roll my hips to help us ride out the last waves. After, I pretty much collapsed on Garrick's chest. My legs are closer to a gelatin structure than anything remotely sturdy.

We lie there, breathing each other in. I know one good fuck isn't going to rid Garrick of his insecurities, but it's a step in the right direction. We'll work on it.

Bonus

Xaden's Pov

Y/n makes her way over to our table again, but this time, she plops herself down next to Garrick, not so subtly cuddling into his side.

I raise a brow. "I see you two have reconciled."

They both hum.

"Not that I don't love your company, Y/n, but why are you here, rather than with leadership?"

"They are having some trouble meeting my eyes this morning"

My left brow lifts to join the other. "Dare I ask?"

She pushes some food around on her plate, before answering. "I may have forgotten to weave silencing wards last night."

"Then you can't really blame them. You two probably traumatised the poor things," I reply.

Garrick protests, "We're not that bad"

They are. Worse, even. But I'm happy for them.

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