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judeswhore · 2 years

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my girl; steve harrington

summary: you never expected your first time meeting steve’s parents to go so horrifically wrong

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

requested: yes

warnings: steve’s shitty parents, not the best writing i’ve done

notes: feedback is appreciated! you can find my masterlist here.

“you know she isn’t coming in just to rent the breakfast club every week, right?” you eyed steve as he pulled open the car door for you, his hand reaching down to grip yours so he could help you out. his fingers were cold against your skin despite the summer sunshine, his much larger fingers wrapping gently around yours. the tiny promise ring he’d gifted you for your birthday twinkled in the light, steve’s thumb momentarily brushing over it before he pulled you up.

“she doesn’t just rent the breakfast club, sometimes she rents the goonies.” he pushed the car door shut behind you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you shook your head.

“she’s not there for the movies, steve.” you slid your arm around his waist, fingers slipping slightly beneath the material of his shirt to graze over his bare skin. his gaze was light and taunting, a lazy smirk lifting one side of his mouth because he could almost feel the jealousy radiating from you.

kennedy walton had been coming into family video every friday for the past six weeks, almost always renting the breakfast club even after spending half an hour browsing the shelves. steve knew she wasn’t really looking, she spent most of her time eyeing him, twirling her hair and smiling just a little too much whenever he glanced over. steve also knew how much it annoyed you, the other girl almost always just so happened to be there when you met him after your shift at the police station and her high pitched giggles were guaranteed to bring out a scowl from you. on more than one occasion he’d heard you mutter to robin that he “wasn’t even that funny”.

“maybe she’s there for keith, he’s been getting a lot of female attention since he grew that beard.” he’d spun the two of you around, both of his hands now settled on your cheeks to tilt your head up to him, and gently pressed you up against the car. your look was so dry that steve gave a soft snort, lips coming down to smother kisses across your cheeks and nose. “or maybe she comes in just for a few minutes of your charming personality.”

“she likes you and you know it.”

“so?”

“so she comes in to stare at you like a total creeper and flirt. terribly. she’s a terrible flirt.” you were almost pouting, brows drawn together in a dramatic show of irritation but steve could only focus on how adorable you were. on how good it felt to have someone love him so much that it bothered them knowing girls came into the store just to stare at him. his nose bumped yours, his thumb brushing in soft motions across your cheek and he could feel the way you melted into him, one of your hands gripping lightly at the fabric of his shirt.

“she’s not that terrible at flirting.” he teased, unable to hold back his grin when you arched your brows. “and she always compliments my hair. you never compliment my hair anymore.”

“because i’m not trying to get you to fuck me.”

“no?”

“no.” you tilted your head, cocking it slightly to one side and watched steve carefully. “you really think her flirting is good?” this had him snorting again, shaking his head with a quiet laugh, his grin only making you smile despite your tiny feeling of annoyance at kennedy.

“god, no, it’s awful. but you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“i’m not jealous, harrington. i just find her unbearable.” steve only nodded, completely unconvinced and brushed his thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes dropping for a few seconds.

“fine, you’re cute when you find people unbearable. but you have nothing to worry about, she can flirt as much as she wants, you’re my girl.” his heart leapt at the smile that slowly spread across your face, heat creeping up your cheeks that he could feel beneath his palms. he bent his neck, head lowering as he pushed you a little further into the side of the car, lips tickling against your own.

“your girl?”

“my girl.” his mouth slotted carefully over yours, lips soft and tasting slightly of sugar and you swallowed a sigh, tugging him closer by his shirt. you knew it was ridiculous to be making out with him practically in the middle of the street but his kisses were addictive and his body was warm against yours, fighting off the slight wind blowing around you. his tongue grazed yours and a soft sound tumbled from your lips, his hand sliding around the back of your neck so he could deepen the kiss.

“steve?”

the sharp sound of mrs harrington’s voice startled you, steve pulling back with a dazed expression, eyes wide and a little bit cloudy. he blinked as if clearing his head and then let his hands fall from your cheeks, his body shifting to face his mother. his posture stiffened almost instantly and you felt half embarrassed as you peaked around his arm, flustered over the fact your first time meeting steve’s mom you’d been seconds away from tugging his clothes off. she looked confused, brows drawn in a stern line while she glanced between you and her son.

“hello, mrs harrington.”

“hello…” she trailed off, expression unreadable when she settled her eyes on your hand wrapped lightly around steve’s forearm.

“y/n. mom, this is the girl i told you about.” mrs harrington still looked clueless and it took her a few seconds before she nodded, a tiny smile appearing on her lips.

“right. of course. well, your father and i were just about to eat, why don’t you join us?” steve fumbled slightly, glancing quickly at you and then back towards the front door, momentarily unsure what to say. in the months you’d been dating you’d never met either of his parents, not because he actively hid you from them but because they were never really around. you knew his relationship with them was strained and you’d told him countless times that he could introduce you to them whenever he was ready and you hated that this had been sprung upon him so abruptly.

but, it was in steve’s nature to people please, especially if those people were his parents, and so he grinned, his head bobbing on a small nod. “yeah, sure.”

you knew steve regretted his answer the second you sat down, his father hadn’t even made it passed a proper introduction before he was mocking his son’s current occupation. he was tense beside you, back almost rigid as his knee bounced, the material of his jeans brushing against your bare leg thanks to how close you’d shuffled towards him. your fingers itched to wrap around his own, the need to comfort him almost overwhelming.

“where is it you work again, y/n?” mr harrington had never been told where you work, it was a question that he hoped would give an answer he could use to belittle steve. you were slow in answering, glancing between the older man and the boy sitting beside you.

“the police station, admin and stuff.”

“that sounds promising. working in an environment like that will look incredible on college applications, i bet you get a real insight into a peoples lives.” you gave a little shrug, feeling more than awkward given the way both adults seemed to be ignoring steve.

“yeah, i guess. my dad’s an officer there so he got me the placement. it’s nothing major, i’m not really allowed to do much.”

“even so, just being around such experienced people, you must learn a lot more than someone scooping ice cream for a living. or rewinding old tapes.” mr harrington snickered and steve’s cheeks turned pink, his head dipping until his hair fell into his eyes. his mother sent you a smile across the table.

“i bet you’ve dealt with a lot of the nut cases around town, huh?”

“well, no, i-”

"see, steve, your girlfriend's job is actually worthwhile to her." mr harrington brushed his wife’s input aside, his attention now fully focused on his son, that haughty expression back in his eyes.

"oh, well, it's not really, i only make people’s-”

"what skills are you learning working in a video store?" his tone was unkind, the look in his eyes just the same and even after having been sat down for no less than ten minutes, you understood why steve spent so much of his time around anyone but his parents. they were cruel with their words, sneering at everything, looking down their noses at him as though he was someone they didn’t really have the time of day for. it made you realise why he enjoyed being around your family, they gave him the appreciation his didn’t.

“it’s teaching me lots of things about the real world.” it was a mumble from steve, his eyes locked on his plate as he pushed the potatoes around on it. unease curled in your stomach because you’d never seen him look so down, the crease between his eyebrows enough to tug a little at your heart.

“the real world.” his father snorted, his mother giving an airy giggle but neither you nor steve reacted. “you know nothing about the real world, son and i’m not sure you ever will. you flunked high school, you couldn’t make it to college and now you’ve been stuck with two dead end jobs. they’re supposed to be weekend jobs, steve, not full time ones.”

“i’m learning how to make my own money, how to pay for my own things.” your foot met steve’s beneath the table, curling around his ankle so you could show him some form of support, too nervous to reach for his hand under his father’s stare. the older man was barely paying attention however, he’d already started on his path to insult steve in any way possible.

“and this constant running around with kids is getting ridiculous. every day you disappear to take them to school, to pick them up, to drop them off at their strange clubs. they have parents for that, it’s not your job.” the room was awfully quiet aside from mr harrington’s voice, everyone had stopped eating, the tension thick and suffocating. “i’m honestly surprised you’ve managed to make a stable relationship, especially with someone who appears to have a head full of ambition. i mean, we all saw what happened with that wheeler girl, that was a train wreck.”

“stop it.” steve’s voice was quiet, a poor attempt at halting his father’s bitter words and like expected, they didn’t work.

“i give it a few months and this one’s gonna get equally as tired of you.”

“excuse me?” your fork clattered against the plate, the glare you sent across the table one of the most harshest ones you could muster but it didn’t seem to deter mr harrington.

“you really want to spend your life with someone who has no aspirations? who’s stuck working a 9 to 5 in a vhs store because he couldn’t even pass algebra?”

“to be fair, mr harrington, i’m not sure it’s your place to be interfering in who i want to spend my life with. and the opinion you’ve formed of your son is completely wrong.” steve’s hand settled over yours on the table, fingers slotting together as he shook his head. he knew what it was like to argue with his father and he didn’t want you on the receiving end of his whiplike words.

“wrong?”

“he works in a video store, so what? at least he’s making money, at least he bothered to find a job instead of just sitting around here waiting for you to notice him. you’re never even around to be able to see what he’s achieving now, high school grades don’t define who he is. and those kids you’re so worried about? ask them how they feel about steve. ask them what he’s done for them, how many times he’s been there when no one else was. jesus, dustin henderson worships the ground he walks on, because he’s amazing. because he’s the kind of person you can turn to when everything’s upside down in the world and you know he can make you feel grounded. you should be proud of who he is, not demanding that he changes just to suit the son you want him to be.” silence followed your words, three pairs of eyes settled on you as you let out a shaky breath, heart pounding because you’d never spoken to an adult like that before, let alone your boyfriends incredibly intimidating father.

“well-”

“i’m not really interested in anything else you have to say. steve deserves a hell of a lot better than what you’re offering.” you pushed your chair back, eyes darting to steve who was watching you with a slightly stunned expression and for a second you were afraid you’d overstepped. afraid you’d wandered into territory you had no business in but then his lips curved into that favourite smile of yours and your heart thumped. before you could get up from the table, mr harrington pushed himself up and without excusing himself disappeared down the hall, his dinner left behind.

there were another few seconds of awkward silence in which steve couldn’t keep his eyes off you before mrs harrington followed her husband, muttering something under her breath about needing a vacation. and then you and steve were alone, a table full of uneaten food surround you. you swallowed thickly, turning to apologise for potentially getting him in trouble but steve got there first, his smile almost blinding.

“i love you.”

“sorry?” you blinked, more than a little surprised.

“i love you. so much. that was-” he shook his head, reaching out to brush his fingers down the side of your face, lightly trailing your jaw. “you didn’t have to do that.”

“i’m your girl, right?” you repeated his earlier words, leaning into the warmth of his palm as he let it gently cup your cheek. his own face was still slightly pink and you didn’t miss the way his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. you placed your hand over it, fingers soft against the fabric of his jeans.

“yeah?”

“so i’m not gonna sit and let your asshole dad talk down about you.” the kiss you leant in to press against his lips was soft but completely full of love, a reassuring pressure that steve wasn’t aware he needed. “i meant everything that i said. your dad doesn’t know you, doesn’t know all the ways you’ve helped saved this stupid town and everyone in it. dustin and the others look up to you so much and yeah sometimes you’re an idiot but it’s what makes you you. i love you, whether you’re working at family video or running your own business, i love you steve, exactly as you are. and so does everyone else.”

you settled another kiss to his mouth, this one slightly longer as you leant against his thigh for leverage and he hummed quietly, his tummy doing odd flips and his heart almost ready to burst from his chest. “i don’t think dustin will like you telling me he loves me.”

“he likes to think he’s all grown up now but he still depends on you. no matter what your parents say steve, you’re important to so many people, it doesn’t matter whether you’re terrible at algebra.” he laughed lightly, nudging his nose against yours.

“i’m honestly not that bad.”

“don’t worry about it, i’m pretty shit too.” you pulled back, brushing your fingers comfortingly through his hair, combing it back off his forehead. he looked tired, completely exhausted from what had to have been the shorter dinner you’d ever attended. “you wanna spend the night at my place? my mom was making apple pie for dessert, if we go now we might get a slice before my brothers eat it all.”

steve nodded and reached out to squeeze your fingers lightly, lifting your hand to his mouth to press a feather light kiss to your palm. “i’d like that.”

#joe keery #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things blurb #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot #stranger things imagines #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic

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perfectfangirl · 20 days

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notes after rewatching fallout s1 ep3

• almost certain that is sugarfoot cooper is dismounting in the scene from the movie he is filming 🥲 • the film cooper was filming here is called "the man from deadhorse", a clear play on the concept of "beating a dead horse" • just realized he [presumably] shot the bad guy character twice • i also noticed that the duster the bad guy character is wearing looks an awful lot like the duster cooper wears as the character he “plays” in the wasteland to cope. is... cooper playing a bad guy character based off one of his movies?? • saw a couple of different variations of "feo, fuerte, y formal" [all saying mostly the same thing] cooper says "he was ugly, strong, and had dignity" wikitionary says it denotes a conception of masculinity. very curious about this these words and the scene because cooper is obviously viewed as a concept of masculinity in hollywood, to the point where he's being asked to essentially engage in statecraft via propaganda as this movie scene is making his character do something completely antithetical--- killing the bad guy instead of solving another way, he basically says a line about "commies" then shoots the him in the head

• what's more is that some are viewing the three concepts of "ugly, strong, dignity" to mean either a variation of cooper, lucy, and maximus or of cooper himself, didn't even think of this and it's a particular interesting trichotomy of cooper pre and post war • "well, joey, i'll give you two out of three on that front" and now i don't know which two out of three • cooper goes out of his way to thank the actor jorge for playing the bad guy in his film • cooper presumably read the script, probably had a table read, rehearsal, and still didn't want to film his good guy character killing the bad guy [perhaps after cadillac bob got fired, there were rewrites and cooper was not told until then] out of context, this is charming, he values his characters so much that they mirror his own values [walton has argued with writers, directors, actors about his characters too!] but in context, it is either the beginning or yet another chapter is cooper's conflicting and morally challenging struggle of "right" and "wrong" in this show • need to know more about cadillac bob! he was doing the moral good type of writing on cooper's programs and i am curious if the firing was an ousting [as being labeled a communist is career over here] because the wiki says he was fired for refusing to write this storyline for the "new america" and then they wrote this character change for cooper to have a firmer anticommunist stance to influence the public. cooper wants to change the scene so bad, he asks for a writer and i find it amusing the director thinks doing a 180° on his character would be good because "the audience knows you're a good man. they want to see that even a good man as yourself can be driven too far sometimes" idk but this is about all the horseshit i can take • [this is precisely post war cooper's arc and character if that wasn't obvious enough] • enter barb. i love the sensual "married couple flirting like strangers" energy behind this scene • lavender flowers are supposed to represent purity, silence, grace, devotion, serenity, calmness--- just a little something for you romance girlies to think about with this scene • "tastes like someone touching you for the first time" and they make it a point to show cooper and barb's hands and cooper purposefully touching barb's fingers as they exchange the candy • hands and fingers seem to be important motifs here and it also seems like hands and fingers are particularly worthy of note for cooper • they kiss each other and they're like "sorry, makeup" and "sorry, lipstick" 😭 • looks like barb secured cooper some vault tec contracts • cooper winds up on siggi's headless body and i can almost see the algebra and trigonometry floating around his brain trying to make heads or tails of this shit • from my understanding, there's no chems that keep a ghoul from going feral within the game universe but there are chems that can and have turned people into ghouls, i see speculation that cooper may have a chem addiction and what we see are withdrawal symptoms, as when lucy finds him outside the super duper mart, he's still on the ground and not acting much feral but [of course coughing, drooling, etc could be the show's symptoms for ferality] i digress • almost think because it's dry and arid af out there, that's why he need a chem

• literally howling because of how lucy was handling siggi's head, she got over the shock and disgust quick 😭 • lucy is crazy for lighting another [camp]fire at night like that • lucy putting a tracker on siggi's head was smart though • lmao did the brotherhood of steel not know lord titus' regular speaking voice or • maximus lying to the brotherhood of steel, maximus selling his teeth for caps instead of literally anything else, maximus thinking he can leave his power suit uncovered and unattended without it being pulled for scrap--- like lord, maximus, please make a sensible step 😫 • the voice modulator mechanic person was very sci fi though • took me a second watch to realize maximus' tooth extraction resulted in a bit of a lisp glfgd • not maximus getting bullied again 😭 • maximus getting a wrench and toilet seat and beating the shit out of them wastelanders with them rotf • crushed that man's head like a watermelon❤️ • thaddeus being sent to inadvertently squire for someone he helped bully is his karma lol • "remnant from the old world" directly implying the enclave is a continuation of the us government • lucy arriving on the serene scene of a fawn near a lake where hollywood boulevard once stood [lucy being a parallel of the innocent doe, doe eyed, and this is bambi ok 🥲] • an undamaged, normal appearing fawn representing beauty and purity can grow in the wasteland and then it being snatched by a gulper likewise demonstrating that it can all be taken away in a blink of an eye • lucy once again being crazy for walking around with the barely contained rotting head, like of course the abomination snatched that too 😭 • cooper conveniently appearing with a cocked gun in her face and she just smiles and says "hello again" like excuse me?? 😭 • cooper's head tilt gets me every time, oof • he ain't have to lightly pistol whip her like that 😭 • lmao poor chet • betty to some degree i keep wondering if she knows extensively about the vaults of 31, 32, 33 or if she is just doing what she is told • norm using the word "escape" instead of perhaps "leave" when describing lucy's departure from vault 33 is intriguing, i think • it took me a minute, and i don't think i've seen much talk about this but i legitimately think norm's lack of enthusiasm and drive for life in the vault is directly connected to his mother's death but i have seen no clear age for him--- they don't show his memories like they do lucy's and i would want an explanation or exploration on his lore here because... he already uncovered vault 31's secret but i don't think he knows what hank has done and him finding out will be huge as well like for lucy • norm is rightfully angry at the raiders for what they did but i am almost willing to bet he might be implicated in their poisonings as a diversion tactic by someone like betty but it's all just a theory [a film theory gldfgldfl] • because someone in the fucking kitchen and handling the food poisoned them raiders... • ghoul prejudice being loud and clear and amongst the brotherhood of steel 😭 • ghouls leaving radiation trails is insane • lmao maximus and thaddeus coming upon siggi's headless body and then trying to compare his mugshot • maximus thinking it was the ghoul who beheaded siggi when it was lucy at siggi's request lol • dogmeat barking up a storm because she wanted cooper's foolishness upon lucy to cease • "you know, they use to do these things called "studies"" like lucy doesn't know what a study is? she's a teacher! 😭 • rads going up because of the water or cooper or both? • ok so i now get why when lucy told cooper torture was wrong that he went into a whole spiel--- not only was cooper in the military but for thirty years post war, dom pedro kept him in a coffin confined on an iv drip to keep him alive but would dig him up and slice pieces of him off and then put him back. cooper's behaviour using her as bait [but not torture] is of course not excusable but cooper is coming from a deep place of hurt and bitterness, this monster was whittled

• cooper goes on to say "it made sense. i mean a man hurts me, i wouldn't want to do him any favours. and yet the practice of torture failed to vanish from the earth. in fact, as time marched on, i've personally noticed a decided uptick in the amount of torture being doled out across the board." oh, cooper 😞 • he says this as he picks what looks like giant leeches off lucy [didn't have to do that] • "well, i ain't torturing you, sweetheart" here go the first instance of familiarity with a patronising pet name in the style of cowboyism and southerness gldgldlf • almost looked like lucy started cooperating when cooper told her he was using her as bait gldgldl • ok so it looks like cooper cut the rope? so lucy could get free i guess idk but then the gulper got ahold of the anchor so he couldn't reel it back? [not sure, anyways, he botched this lmao] • he starts striking at the gulper with what looks like a harpoon i guess when it catches lucy's leg [could've definitely let her get ate but didn't] • lucy basically saves herself with dogmeat biting the gulper and scaring it off • cooper empties lucy's bag and destroys her stuff so it's only right cooper's karma is his vials getting smashed in the process of using lucy for bait lol • cooper getting mad and taking out his gun and cocking it at lucy like it was her fault his shit got smashed 😭 • "oh, i'm sorry, i should just let you use me as bait in the poison river!?" the way she says it always almost brings a tear to my eyes like get his ass 😭 • for the first time in the show, cooper realises he was wrong and/or messed up [and to his detriment] • lucy protests her treatment, "do unto others as you would have done unto you" and cooper starts mumbling to himself "those gulpers digest real slow. you got time." because he already going through withdrawals, help • so he ties her up like a dog and says the wasteland got its own rule and it's "thou shalt get distracted by bullshit every goddamn time" 😭 this is so a reference to gameplay and how they themselves are going on a fucking side quest lmao • lucy asking about dogmeat 😢 dogmeat staying because that gulper has siggi's head ☹️

• lmao maximus masquerading as lord titus asking thaddeus to say something about him • you know? it's good writing to me to explain why a [secondary] character would bully or behave as thaddeus has to maximus--- he's not merely a side character and wanted to say nothing but nice things about maximus when he thought he died, i'll give him that • "we can judge a person and a society by how they treat their enemy" goes boom because of the game lore and also because somebody kills all those raider prisoners lol • this disconnect between the vault dwellers and wastelanders--- they're talking about teaching these people shakespeare when some of them eat people for survival • norm wants the raiders to die and they keep showing steph and this might be a red herring but i think she poisoned them mfs, personally • hmm why does steph know what hank would do in this situation like that flgdlgdl • maximus trying to protect thaddeus from danger • thaddeus calling cooper an abomination because he's a ghoul 😭🖐️ • the little scream thaddeus makes as the gulper gets him ❤️ • dogmeat really loved siggi ☹️ • cooper and lucy walking near an incinerated hollywood tour bus is so lmao why cooper walk past that • at first i thought cooper was displaying cruelty by not letting lucy drink his water but then it occurred to me it might be irradiated, the next scene with water like this, she gets sick from radiation from drinking water • lmao when he emptied the last drops of water in his canteen out in the sand in front of her 😭 • "ain't much stays clean up here, vaulty" he is talking about himself • lucy gazing at a billboard of vault boy, cooper shooting the face, then they cut to vault boy's origins being cooper--- • symbolism and parallels like this can kill a man but i did want to just say there's so many layers to this. to be short he has such contempt, shame for what he thinks he's done, people hundreds of years later worship this thing that represents the end of civilization and he feels responsibility because he was deceived as well. lucy none the wiser. she just thinks he's crazy and horrible for no reason. if only she knew. • the road to hell is paved with good intentions

#text post #fallout #fallout show #lucy #ghoulcy #the ghoul #cooper #maximus #my meanderings #the head

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 23 days

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You're one of my favorite fallout blogs right now. Are there any more Cooper headcanons you have rattling around?

Firstly, you deeply flatter me. 🩷 I really enjoy writing stuff for you guys. To answer your question: yes, I have about a million more Cooper headcanons, and I'm more than happy to share, so here's a little random grab-bag. Since you didn't specify NSFW headcanons, I'll put some SFW ones here and do the NSFWs in a follow-up.

I'm currently traveling to visit family and have a hard time writing or editing in the car, but I'm hoping to have at least one longer smut submission done some time tonight or tomorrow. Thank you all for reading!

General SFW Cooper Howard Headcanons

Prewar! Cooper Howard

- I feel like he and Barb met and married a little older than would've been traditional at the time, maybe late 30's? Their relationship has a maturity to it that I think really only comes from meeting when you're both more established and confident in yourselves. I feel like it may have taken them a while to have Janey, as well. I imagine they probably wanted more kids but ultimately struggled to have them (that man absolutely ADORES being a dad, so in my mind he'd want like four or five kids). People seem to generally see Coop as late 40's-50ish, and Janey is like 7, right? 43(ish), with Barb maybe around 40, is pretty old for a first child.

- This man also 100% had pretty boy tendencies (and I bet they're still in there somewhere, just buried real deep). I don't see him as necessarily fussy about it, but after so many years of appearance being a big part of how he makes his living, I imagine you'd catch him in the mirror about any time one appeared, "just to check real quick". Very particular about his clothes fitting right. Meticulous dental hygiene. Always smells amazing.

- He's a big "acts of service" person; his favorite way to show love, whether it be to his family and friends, Janey, or you, is to learn what your interests and hobbies are and to engage with them, to remember things about you and what you like. And, like most people who are big on acts of service, he prefers to be loved that way, in turn. As such, he's a big sucker for inside jokes.

The Ghoul

- His sassy little duster is 110% used to make him look big and scary. Walton Goggins is only 5'10, and it's not like he's beefy in build. He's obviously not unmuscular, by any means, but he's lean. I'd call him "trailer park wiry". You'd definitely be surprised at how much smaller he looks the first time you see him without the coat; he still cuts an imposing figure after cultivating it for so long, but he looks so much more svelte without it. The boots and hat also probably make him seem bigger.

- The man still remembers how to dance, like, really well. Line dancing, ballroom, even a little swing...he's quite eclectic. You will 100% have to nag about this a little if you want to actually see it in action, because he thinks you just wanna make fun of him for it, but if you can convince him you really do just wanna share this with him, he'll teach you. Finds he still really enjoys it if you can convince him to try.

- Doesn't have much by way of a sense of taste anymore, like most old men, and, like most old men, he has a penchant for sweets of any kind (that also isn't totally partially a remnant of how much junk he used to eat with Janey). Sweet and spicy he can still taste.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout tv show #fallout prime #cooper howard headcanons #submission #prewar!cooper howard

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arriagamarianasblog · 10 months

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Caught ~ Jaden Walton

You sat patiently on your bed for a sign that your boyfriend, Jaden, has arrived at your house. Your phone dings. It was him. You crept towards the bedroom door to make sure your brothers weren't in sight. When you didn't see them, you crept towards the front door where Jaden was waiting. You opened the door and greeted your boyfriend. Jaden had a baseball practice before he got here. You assumed he went home and took a shower, since his hair is wet.

"Hey, baby" Jaden greeted you with a kiss. You said hey back and led him towards your room. On the way, you saw Ivanita, your brother's girlfriend entering the back door that led to the pool, she hadn't seen you yet. She turned around and saw you sneaking Jaden into your room.

"Y/N?" She said, sneaking a glance towards your quiet boyfriend behind you. "What are you doing?"

"Please, don't tell my brothers, they will freak out-" You started saying, but got cut off by her.

"Girl, don't worry, we all do it at least once, I got your back don't worry." She said prompting you to sigh of relief.

"Have fun, but not too much fun" She said with a wink, causing your and Jaden's face to turn a crimson red of embarrassment.

"Thank you, you're the best" You said, turning to usher your still red-faced boyfriend into your bedroom. Jaden throws himself on your bed and you crawl towards him with a grin that makes him smile. You push down on his chest as a sign to lay down. Jaden lays down and pulls you by the waist onto his lap.

"I like this view" Jaden cheekily smiles at you above him. You giggle at his comment.

"Your not the only one" You said, smiling down at him.

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you towards him, smashing his lips towards yours. You smile into the kiss, putting one hand on his bicep, while the other trails under his shirt, touching his abs. He grunts in pleasure at the feeling, sliding his hand towards your bare waist cause of the crop-top you are wearing. You feel his tongue asking for entrance, which you give him. His tongue swirling around in your mouth. He always knew just the right amount of tongue to use, which you were glad about. His hands were placed on your hips, pulling you into him more. You both pulled away from the kiss at the same time and smiled.

"I really like kissing you." Jaden told you as he tucked a small strand of your y/h/c hair behind your ear.

"Oh yeah?" You gave him a flirtatious look. Causing him to bite his bottom lip again and shake his head at you. That's when he flipped you onto your back, you yelp and giggle as he did so. Now his face was hovering above yours.

"Yo, What the hell?!"

You and Jaden pulled away from each other upon hearing one of your brothers'. Darius gave you both a shocked look. You were embarrassed that your brother had caught you and your boyfriend kissing.

"Dari, what are you doing?" You gave him a look that said 'you interrupted something important'. Darius never thought he would ever catch his baby sister kissing her boyfriend. He always thought you were an innocent child that does not sneak in her boyfriend to make-out.

"I came to ask if you would help us with a challenge for a video, but I see your busy with things" Your brother smirks at the two of you.

"Get out, dari" You whined, wanting privacy in a house full of boys, except your brothers' girlfriends.

Darius left after much pleading from you and a promise to not tell the other brothers, especially the twins.

"Now where were we?"

Meanwhile, your brother left the room towards the kitchen where your other brothers Cyrus, Lucas, and Marcus are waiting for Darius. Lucas was the first to notice Darius coming back into the kitchen.

"What did she say?" Lucas asked, pausing his conversation with his twin to ask Dari.

"She is busy, so Y/N will not be joining us" Darius pursed his lips as he spoke.

"Busy with what?" The twins asked in unison, which weirded out their brothers and sister every time.

"Oh, just you know things"

"She's with her boyfriend isn't she?" Cyrus asked, smirking and knowing the twins were yet to find out about Jaden. The twins looked so mad that the other two were sure there was steam coming out of their ears.

"What?!!" The twins spoke, heading towards your room. The other two followed them with Darius scolding Cyrus for saying it out loud. The twins are a little more protective of you than the other two. They barged into your room to see you on top of Jaden, who was shirtless, and making out with him.

"What the hell, Y/N?!" You pulled away from Jaden the second you saw all of your brothers at the doorway. Your two oldest brothers, Cyrus and Darius, had guilty looks on their faces. You were guessing they told the twins about your boyfriend.

"Why are you barging into my room without knocking?" You yelled, despite the fact that your face was red of anger and embarrassment.

"I think the better question is why didn't you tell us?! Do you not trust us?!"

"I do trust you guys, I didn't tell you because I knew you guys would react like this, you always try to control what I can and can't do"

"That's not true!" The twins yelled in unison. You feel Jaden put his arm around your waist to keep you in place.

"Yes, it is!" You yell back, they're taken back at the fact that you never yell.

"Okay, i'm not mad, just disappointed you didn't tell us" Marcus said, sending you a smile with his arms crossed over his chest. You sign in relief and smile at him. You turn towards the other twin, who stays silent.

"Well, I am mad" Lucas pouts, also crossing his arms. "Kidding!" You all laugh there is no more tension.

Eventually, they leave the room, but not before your brothers give Jaden a stern look. You both look at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. He wraps his arms around your waist and connects your lips together. You smile into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

#jaden walton #javon walton #jdubwalton

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discokicks · 11 months

Text

BOLT FROM THE BLUE - ROY KENT.

PART ONE of ACES AT THE WATER'S EDGE.

(series masterlist!) (series playlist!) (AO3!)

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: with the departure of afc richmond’s wonderkid, the club is desperately on the hunt for a new coach. luckily for them, you’ve just been wrongfully terminated from your position over at west ham. however, with your outlook on the football world tainted and massive hesitation due to your past with a particular member of their coaching staff, you’re less than convinced about the job. but, that same member may just be the one to convince you.

word count & rating: 8.7k, R (too many roy kent 'fucks' to be pg-13)

chapter warnings: whole lotta swearing (it’s a roy kent fic, do i even have to say it?), talk of workplace misconduct, allusions to (no descriptions of) sexual harassment, roy and the reader are long-lost bickering, angsty enemies with a past, reader is a former team usa player and present coach, author is american (sorry </3)

author’s note! hello hello. so happy to have you here. welcome to my first tumblr fic. certainly not my first fic ever, but first fic on here! hooray! for the sake of this fic, we’re going to pretend like the coaching career of the reader is actually possible in the current misogynistic world football climate. it’ll be fun to fantasize. also, this takes place in s3, and reader is earlyish/midish thirties. also also, i know next to nothing about football/soccer and haven’t played since i was 10, but i’m doing my research! hope you enjoy and love u all tons. -mags

PRESENT DAY. (AUGUST 2023)

Your ex-boss's ex-wife is currently standing outside of your apartment and somehow, that’s not the most surprising thing to happen this week.

While yes, of course, seeing Rebecca Walton on your front steps at nine-thirty on a Thursday morning is shocking, the numbness that’s been coursing through your body since Monday takes some of the edge off.

She’s right before you, clutching her purse tightly, dressed in a fitted trench coat and aggressively expensive heels. Everything about her contrasts the four-sizes-too-big sweatshirt you’re sporting with the age-old pajama shorts with embroidered soccer balls that you’ve been rotting away in for the last three days. When your eyes finally meet once more and you see she’s been sizing you up just as you’ve been doing to her, she plasters on a wide, practiced smile.

“Hello,” Rebecca says. Her smile doesn’t falter.

You blink at her. “Hi.”

She motions to your door and you feel your hand tighten on the knob. “May I come in?”

Your lips part in a way that you’re sure makes you look like a moron. “Like, into my house?” you ask, head whipping to look at the current warzone state of your living room.

Rebecca’s smile gets slightly more genuine. “If that’s alright?”

The shock of her standing before you seems to have worn off, because you find yourself shutting the door slightly. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“It’s nothing—”

“Look, if you’re here to get me to talk to that Independent journalist who’s called me like, three times asking for a perspective on Rupert for his book or whatever, I’m really not interested.” Your frustration is clearly peaking through your typically reserved manner, and frankly, you’re not in any mood to mask it.

She doesn’t seem to mind. “Who? Trent?” You nod at Rebecca’s furrowed brows. “Oh God, no. We barely want him writing that thing anyway.”

Well, okay. “Then why—”

Rebecca motions to the door again. “May I?”

You suppose if she’s being so insistent about entering your home, it’s her funeral. You step back to allow her in, and the second she sees your living room, she seems to regret it. When she turns to face you, you can’t help the way your brows shoot up, everything about your demeanor saying I told you so. “The kitchen’s cleaner,” you tell her, nodding in its direction.

“Wonderful,” she says as she follows you through the hall. Her next question is hesitant. “So, is all this—”

“The result of getting fired on Monday?” you finish for her, turning to meet her gaze as you stand at your counter. Her eyes read pity and part of you already wants to kick her out. The other part of you wants to hug her. “Yeah. Things, uh…”

As you trail off, you realize something. That thing in her eyes isn’t pity. It’s empathy. Rebecca, more than anyone, knows Rupert. She knows how much of an asshole he is. She knows how special he can make you feel, only to have the rug ripped out from under you moments later. She knows what it feels like to be wronged by him. She knows.

Through your silence, you think she recognizes the sudden shift in tension as your expression morphs into something less hard, and you allow yourself a moment of vulnerability. “Things haven’t been great over here.”

Any sort of practice in Rebecca’s smile completely fades and is replaced with something more compassionate. “I can only imagine.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest. While the initial discomfort has passed, the awkwardness still lingers and you realize that you have literally no idea why she’s in your apartment. “Can I… offer you coffee? Or, uh, tea?” you ask.

“Oh, no,” she replies. “Thank you though.”

“You sure?” you try again. “I taught myself how to make an insane shaken espresso during my ACL recovery. Mastered it over the years.”

“Mastered it?”

You shrug. “It was either that or alcoholism. Chose the path less traveled by most washed-up athletes.”

Rebecca’s lips twitch upward. “Oh, what the hell. Why not?”

“Great,” you say, turning to your cabinet to grab your bag of coffee beans. Now for the moment of truth. “And while I get that together…” You stand on your tiptoes to reach the bag. “You’ve gotta tell me what you’re doing here.”

For a moment, you think she’s going to feed you some joke or some bullshit answer. You glance over your shoulder to watch her mouth even open to do so. But she suddenly decides against it.

And you drop the bag of coffee beans and have to stabilize yourself against the counter as she says, “I’m here to offer you a job.”

A job? She wants to give you a job at Richmond? She can’t be serious. Out of all the things that floated through your mind when you opened the door, this was the last thing you thought possible. A job. She’s here to offer you a job.

It has to be a pity offer. That’s where the pity of it all went. But no one knows about what actually happened, you remind yourself. She just knows you were suddenly let go. Well, then it’s just a revenge offer. Some petty thing to get back at Rupert. As much as you want to think that you’d be on board with that, you had no interest in being some sort of piece in the game.

You’re staring blankly at Rebecca as your mind goes to war, certain that you look like even more of an idiot than you did when you let her in. There’s a small pool of coffee beans sitting on your counter. But you can’t find it in you to care. A job. She’s here to offer you a job.

Rebecca suddenly clears her throat. “Is everything alri—”

“Why the fuck do you want to give me a job?” Is what comes out of your mouth, head too far gone to consider a filter. A smirk appears on her face at your words. “Sorry, I just… I don’t get it.”

She looks at you for a moment, taking a solemn pause to evaluate exactly what it is she wants to say. Her eyes flash to your embroidered soccer shorts peeking out from beneath your sweatshirt, then to the plethora of sport-themed mugs hanging beneath the cabinets in your kitchen, then to the framed photo you keep on the wall of your team’s 2015 World Cup win.

“Because,” she finally lands on, “when I see that the new, passionate, wildly qualified West Ham coach is suddenly fired less than two months after she begins, seemingly out of nowhere…” It’s her turn to trail off, and she shrugs. “Something tells me it wasn’t just leadership differences.”

You look away from her as she drops the famous press-release line. Discomfort floods your body as you remember Rupert’s smarmy smile when he asked for your badge. “No,” you say softly. “It wasn’t.”

Rebecca nods, as if her suspicions were confirmed. “Now, I don’t know what happened,” she tells you, “and I don’t expect to know. But as I said, you’re wildly qualified. You were a remarkable talent on the field and more so as a coach. Four Uni championships in a six-year career isn’t just impressive, it’s unheard of.”

You pause your coffee bean cleanup at that. Your brows shoot up and a wry smile crosses your lips. “You know my college coaching stats?”

Rebecca stares at you for a moment. Then, “Not until this week,” she admits quickly, forcing you to bite back a laugh. “But my coaching staff knew. Sang your praises.”

A pit forms in your stomach as you realize exactly who’s a part of that staff. Bull-fucking-shit he sang your praises. You think you’d despise him more if he had.

Attempting to brush off your sudden uneasiness, you try your hand at a joke while measuring out the beans. “Well, two-thirds of them are American, so I guess that makes sense.”

Rebecca chuckled. “Well, Roy Kent doesn’t say much of anything, but you did get a—’” She cuts herself off to make an affirmative-sounding grunt. You’re so thrown off by this that you almost forget to smile at her impression of him. “Which, you know, is about as close to singing as he gets.”

That it is. Because you do know. And that’s Roy code for ‘trying to be normal about this, but dear God, never speak about her to me again.’ You hope the mere mention of your name made him run out of the room. That the idea of you potentially joining the team keeps him up at night.

(The last three days haven’t been good for your dramatics either.)

A sigh escapes your lips and you avert your eyes. There’s an air of embarrassment as you shift uncomfortably. “This is going to be loud, sorry,” you apologize, turning the grinder on. You make a general estimation that this is what your brain would currently sound like if someone decided to listen in. After a moment, the machine turns off, but you don’t turn back to Rebecca. “Would this be a coaching offer?”

“I wouldn’t want you to be anything else,” Rebecca responds. Her tone shifts slightly as she looks at you. “Unless there’s—”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “There’s nothing else I’d want.” You shift again. “I just…”

Rebecca watches as you trail off. You still haven’t looked at her, focused solely on your espresso task at hand. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she arrived at your home, but it certainly wasn’t this. Every time she’d seen you, whether it was on the field, blowing past defenders with impossible efficiency, or coaching your college girls in a way that commanded respect despite the seemingly ever-present smile on your face, there’d always been this confidence about you.

An admirable sense of ego. A love and passion for the game that made every young girl want to wear the number 14. A spirit that made everyone look upon you fondly. A pleasure to be around, and an honor to work with.

Rebecca was now staring at what she presumed to be the shell of the woman she’d heard about. A woman distracting herself from the discomfort of this conversation with coffee-making, afraid of her own shadow. And as you spoke, she knew her assumptions were correct.

“Listen,” you manage to get out. You’ve already tamped the grounds and had returned to the big, fancy espresso machine bought for you long ago by a former friend. “I appreciate you coming over here, but…”

“But?” Rebecca questions.

The words feel dry in your mouth and you have to push them out. “I think I’m done with it.”

It’s Rebecca’s turn to blink at you dumbly. “Done with what?” she asks. “With coaching?”

Shame floods your body. “With soccer,” you reply weakly. That look remained on Rebecca’s face. “Football. Whatever. Whatever you want to call it, I’m done with it.” You turn to stable yourself on the countertop once more as the coffee begins to brew. “It’s just— I’ve spent the majority of my life doing this one thing. I’ve done the Olympic gold thing, I’ve won a World Cup, I’ve won college championships, I’ve been…” Your eyes shut, shoulders sagging. “I’ve just been. And I thought I could go a step further. Break a ceiling or whatever. I thought I was ready for it. And then everything I’ve worked for is fucking destroyed by some douchebag, diva athlete who doesn’t know how to keep his dick in his—”

You raise your hand to your mouth as if that’ll keep it all in, and you realize you’re shaking. You don’t have to turn around to know how Rebecca’s looking at you. “So, yeah,” you finish lamely. “I’m done. It was ruined for me. And I don’t want to go back.”

Rebecca says nothing for a long while. Taking everything you said in, drawing her conclusions, whatever. You grip the granite countertop and it feels cool beneath your fingers. Your eyes open when you finally hear her respond.

“You’re letting him win,” she tells you, voice soft. Slightly broken. Like she knows the feeling.

When you do turn back to her, Rebecca’s sitting at your breakfast bar with her hands folded together, anger poorly concealed. But it’s not anger at you, it’s just anger.

But then you start to feel angry. “I’m not letting him win,” you insist.

“You are,” she replies. Before you can let your temper get the best of you, she continues. “They’re calling you emotional, you know? They’re saying that the ’leadership problems’ were you just being abrasive. Joking that they should have never let a woman into the league because of the drama. Apparently, women can’t handle AFC-level coaching.”

You swallow. “I know,” you say. “I’ve seen it.”

“Who do you think’s pushing that narrative?” she asks.

It’s a rhetorical question, but you still feel like giving an answer. “Basement-dwelling losers who barely made their intramural leagues?”

It’s then that Rebecca smiles for real. It’s like she’s seen a flash of the woman she’s heard about and she couldn’t be more pleased. She makes a noise of agreement, then continues. “This is what he wants. He wants you to feel like this. He wants you to quit.” Her gaze bores into yours with an intensity that doesn’t allow you to look away. “If you give it all up, he wins. He beats you and he’s got another name under his belt. He doesn’t deserve your name.” Rebecca’s index finger jabs in your direction. “Don’t allow him to fucking win.”

The passion in her words is what gets you. Your throat clenches as you feel your eyes start to burn, knowing that everything she said had some amount of truth in it. There’s a frustration that rises in your chest that you don’t know how to handle.

You were letting him win. He took away your career and then threatened your reputation. He made you take the blame for everything. He allowed this to be ruined for you and played an active part in ensuring it. And here you were, cowering in fear at the notion of this small man.

She’s right, and the espresso has finished brewing.

You know she’s right. Rebecca knows she’s right. So, as you stand in your kitchen, fighting an inward battle that’s got you on the verge of tears, your scared, stupid, frustrated little brain can only think of one more thing to say as you pour the coffee over ice.

“Even if you were right—” you begin, not ready to admit that just yet, “—even if you were, and even if I did want to join Richmond, I refuse to work with Roy Kent.”

This takes Rebecca completely by surprise. She shifts back in her chair, eyes wide despite the drawing of her brows. “R-Roy?” she sputters. “Our Roy Kent?”

The word our tells you that he’s been embraced by the club and isn’t going anywhere. Not that you had expected him to. He’d clearly nested well into the team and had taken his coaching position in stride. Just like you said he would years ago.

“Yeah,” you say shortly. “That one.”

Rebecca’s expression remains the same. ”But he’s… I—” She cuts herself off with a question. “—but why?”

A mirthless grin crosses your lips, head shaking like you don’t have the energy to get into it all. “That’s an answer you should probably hear from him.”

Rebecca looks as though she’s trying to make sense of all of this. You want to wish her luck. Because you’ve been doing the same thing for eight years. “I understand he can be a bit… coarse. And intimidating. And hot-headed. But he really is—”

“I don’t care what he is,” you tell her with the most polite, tight-lipped smile you can muster up. “I know who he was. And I’m not interested in working with him.” The words leave your mouth with a bit more venom than anticipated and guilt floods your body. “But thank you for the offer.”

The Richmond owner continues to stare at you while you shake the coffee, still puzzled, but slowly coming to the realization that she’s not going to change your mind. At least not now. Maybe not ever.

She figures that trying to convince you to do anything would be pointless. Your stubbornness had made you a star on the field and had clearly transferred off of it. She supposed it made sense that you and Roy had apparently butted heads.

So, reading the room, Rebecca nods at you and stands from the stool behind your breakfast bar. “Alright,” she says, a somber, apologetic smile on her face. “Message received. Loud and clear.” You watched as she turned and began to fumble inside her purse, placing a white card on the bar when she’d found it. “But… please. Consider it. The offer’s good for the next couple of days. And I… I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think that you’d be an asset to our team. I truly mean that.”

There’s a genuine lilt in her voice that makes you believe her. Whether or not this was a pity offer, or if she just want to scoop you up to get back at Rupert, she really did want you with the team. You’re rational enough to know that there’s some merit in that.

“Thank you,” you say again, offering a truer smile this time around. You hold up the espresso. “Now, do you have a milk preference? Because I’ve got them all.”

Rebecca Walton left your apartment with the best fucking shaken espresso she’s ever had in her life and a phone held up to her ear.

“Hi, babes,” greeted the voice on the other line, cheery as ever. “I can’t remember the last time you called me this early. Not that I’m complain—”

Rebecca abruptly cut off her friend’s rambling by saying your name. “How the fuck does she know Roy and why the fuck is he the reason she won’t work for Richmond?”

Uncharacteristically, Keeley Jones went silent. Rebecca heard the static from the other end. And then, very quiet, and wildly serious, Keeley said, “Oh, fuck.”

The words made Rebecca stop in her tracks in the middle of the street. “What?”

“You want her to be the new Richmond coach?” Keeley asked, sounding a whole lot like she just scrambled to sit up in bed.

“I just left her apartment. She rejected the offer and sent me on my way with the best coffee I’ve ever had in my life,” she replied. “I want to be bitter about it, but it’s too fucking good.”

“Yeah, got it, she’s a fucking barista on top of being an Ace.” Rebecca wanted to ask about how frantic her best friend is right now, but didn’t get the chance. “Did Roy know you were doing this? Asking her, I mean?”

“He did. I asked him about her,” Rebecca answered. “And he grunted at me. Generally, that’s Roy Kent for ‘go on with it.’”

“Oh, that stupid, fucking self-sabotaging prick,” Keeley muttered. “Of-fucking-course he did. Put yourself in this kind of situation instead of dealing with your emotions like a normal fucking human, good on you, Roy—”

“Keeley.” The rambling stopped once more. “What happened?”

The other line was momentarily silent. Then Keeley sighed, long and heavy. “Well, I don’t know it all,” she began. Her voice was soft. “But I know they knew each other a while back. Like ten years ago, when they were both still playing.” Keeley sighed once more. “But he said he, uh… apparently fucked her over somehow. Didn’t get into it or say what he did, but I think it was pretty bad. And then she got back at him for it and fucked him over. And it… really messed him up. Like, totally broke his heart.”

Rebecca stepped out of the way of someone passing by. “Broke his heart?” she asked, eyes closing at the implication of that. “Were they—”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say. He wasn’t exactly open about it. Which I thought was weird because he became pretty open about everything else,” Keeley said. “All I know is that whatever it was, it ended ugly. And that they haven’t spoken to each other since.”

Whatever Rebecca had been expecting, it surely wasn’t that. “Oh,” she said lightly.

Keeley hummed in uncomfortable agreement. “Maybe I’m reading too far into it,” she continued. “Maybe it wasn’t like that. But, he… never talked about anyone like that. Or, y’know, refused to talk about anyone like that. And you know Roy.” Rebecca said nothing, leaving Keeley to ask the million-dollar question. “Are you sure you want to follow through with this?”

“I want her. She’s the only feasible prospect I’ve liked who hasn’t been a fucking twat so far.” Rebecca’s voice was sure. Final. “And I won’t allow for another woman to be quietly taken down because of Rupert. Especially not if what I think happened actually did happen.”

“Well, then babe,” Keeley said, “I think you might need to have a chat with your coaches.”

Then, as Rebecca stood on the edge of the sidewalk, picturing the look on her coaches’ faces as she prepared to integrate Roy Kent, the gravity of the situation hit her like a freight train. “Oh, fuck.”

“ROY FUCKING KENT!”

The entire locker room froze at the voice of Rebecca Walton echoing down the hall, each click of her heels sounding as dangerous as the next. Immediately, all eyes are were on Roy. From Kitman Will to Coach Ted Lasso himself. Not a word was said and Rebecca’s stomping started to sound like a death march.

But when she rounded the corner into the Coaches’ Office with a fire in her eyes that screamed run; that’s when Roy started to sweat.

Immediately, a million things ran through his mind. He wondered if this was about his break-up with Keeley, then realized that she was the one who wanted a break from him, so Rebecca’s got no reason to be mad about that. Had he said something stupid to a reporter? Been photographed poorly? Did something come up in a tabloid from his past? Roy wished he could identify one singular thing he’d done back then in poor taste, but he had a fucking laundry list.

Beard quickly jumped up from his chair to shut the door to the locker room so that the team couldn’t hear whatever was about to unfold in this godforsaken office, and pulled the blinds too. He heard the beginnings of an objection from the boys as they began to race to the window, and sent them all a look before the shade fell.

Rebecca walked further into the office, eyes never leaving Roy’s. If she weren’t so fucking mad, she figured she’d bask in the fact that she was able to make the great, big, scary Roy Kent nervous, but she was currently seeing red. She decided she’d reflect on that later.

“I had a fascinating conversation this morning with a prospective coach,” she finally said, voice eerily calm. “Your name came up. A lot.”

Roy didn’t dare say a word. He wasn’t even sure if he could. Thankfully, Ted chimed in. “Well, Boss, we’ve got a lot of those. Would you mind narrowing down which one you talked to?”

But Roy doesn’t need it to be narrowed down. There’s only one name that’s been floated around that could possibly have garnered this reaction and level of anger. But his stomach sank further as a wild smile crossed Rebecca’s lips.

“Oh, just our Ace Olympic gold-medalist, World Cup-winning, four-time college coaching champion, West-Ham-hating top prospect,” she said, gaze pinning Roy to the wall. “Who apparently has not only been fucked over by Rupert but has also been fucked over by our own Roy Kent.”

All eyes flashed to Roy in surprise. Rebecca hadn’t been lying. Roy hadn’t objected to her name being considered as seriously as it was, and had given absolutely no indication to anyone in the room that there could potentially be conflict with this hire.

“Oh,” Ted said. “Well, that’s a bit of an issue.”

Roy looked at Rebecca evenly. “What did she say?”

“Nothing,” she replied, knowing that that was the very issue. “She just said she refused to work with you. Told me to ask you for the details.”

Roy nearly scoffed. God, that was really fucking like you, wasn’t it? Somehow making his life harder without scorching him alive, leaving him to be the one to burn himself down. Because you could if you wanted to. You could burn him to the ground if you chose.

(And you had. But he wasn’t sure what was stopping you from doing it again.)

He eyed Rebecca, knowing his boss and the way she thinks. There was a piece of him that was curious as to whether or not she’d drop the bomb in front of Beard and Lasso. “And what did Keeley tell you?”

That seemed to take his boss by surprise for a moment. But, as she caught on, it was made clear that she had the intention of saving his ass. For now. “Nothing that you didn’t tell her yourself,” Rebecca said. “Which was pretty much nothing.”

That was true too. There wasn’t much he hadn’t told Keeley, but he drew the line at you. Not only would Keeley look at him differently if she knew the truth, but you were just… too hard to talk about. Way too hard for him.

Which is why when Rebecca threw her hands up in question, desperation in her eyes as she asks, “So, what the fuck did you do to our prospective coach?”, Roy had to calm himself for a moment.

Between his rapidly increasing heartbeat and freshly clammy hands, Roy knew he had to figure out a way to not appear one hundred percent, completely freaked out about this. Besides his vague talks with Keeley, he can’t remember the last time he spoke about you. In fact, he’s not sure he’d ever spoken about you. And he certainly wasn’t in any headspace to do it now.

So, Roy being who he was, looked at the expectant expressions of his coaching staff (and Trent fucking Crimm, who he still couldn’t believe had managed to weasel his way into the club) and sighed. He knew he couldn’t be as intentionally vague with his explanation, especially now that the careers of those he knew and respected were in the mix, but he sure as hell was going to try.

“We—” Roy’s voice came out gruff and he cleared his throat with the roll of his eyes. “We knew each other a while back. I met her at the London Olympics. We were… fucking friends. For a while. And then we weren’t.” Roy shrugged, as if that would get rid of the discomfort he felt. He still hadn’t made eye contact with anyone. “I did some shit I’m not proud of. I hurt her and then she fucking hurt me. We haven’t talked since.”

Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest. “Exactly how long haven’t you spoken for?”

Exactly? Roy knows exactly how long. He could tell her the exact fucking day. But that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t know,” he chose to answer. He’d never faked indifference well. “Couple of years? Eight, nine?”

Beard pursed his lips in confusion. “And you didn’t think to… mention this conflict of interest?”

He’d taken the words right out of Rebecca’s mouth. “Or tell me there was an issue so I didn’t look like an idiot?”

“There’s no fucking conflict of interest!” Roy shouted. Rebecca’s brows rose dangerously at the tone and volume of his voice, forcing him to take a moment to collect himself. His voice was more even as he said, “I didn’t fucking say anything because I didn’t think it was important because we’re fucking adults and I didn’t want to be the fucking reason she didn’t—”

Roy’s words died in his throat, chest heaving as he forced himself to stop short. He finally looked up, glancing between his colleagues. He tilted his head back as he realized that each of them were trying to figure out whether or not to believe him.

He was telling the truth. He hadn’t said one lie. They just didn’t get it. And he wouldn’t allow them to get it. Not yet, at least.

“Well,” Rebecca said after a beat, “inadvertently or not, you are the reason she’s not joining the team.”

(Those words alone sting Roy in a way he wasn’t prepared for.)

Rebecca wasn’t done. “But I want her, Roy. More than anyone we’ve seen. She’s the best we’ve had a chance with so far. And if I have to go with another coach or one of those pricks we interviewed because of that?” She shook her head as if the idea repulsed her, then pointed squarely at Roy. “Fix this.”

His jaw went slack. “Fix— How the fuck am I supposed to fix it?”

Roy was shocked to find that Ted had his back. “I’m with Roy on this one, boss,” he said hesitantly. Rebecca blinked at him in surprise. “I want her too. I’m all for having this Ace up our sleeve. But this all seems like a lot to be fixed overnight.”

“Send her flowers, send her a singing telegram, get on your fucking hands and knees and beg— I don’t care how you do it! Just try!” Rebecca’s gaze had turned back to Roy, this time a bit more pleading. “Please. Fix it.”

And with that, Rebecca left the office, leaving two coaches and a journalist staring at Roy Kent.

This was the worst day of his life. It had to be. He’d never prepared himself to see you again because he was convinced that there was no probability it would happen. Selfishly, he’d figured that you coaching here wasn’t a true possibility, not because of any sort of lack of skill, but because some other team would scoop you up. But it was happening. This was a reality and Roy was sure he’d died and finally gone to hell.

And now he was expected to fix this? To interact with you? To potentially see and speak to you again? He was going to fucking throw up.

With this settling in, Roy released a deep, shuddering breath, heartbeat ringing in his ears. “Fuuuuuck,” he muttered, grabbing his keys from his desk and storming out of the room.

And then there were three. Ted broke the silence with a question directed at Trent. “Y'all have singing telegrams over here?”

Trent nodded. “Oh, yes. And I’m sure they’re just as awful as American ones.”

As Ted hummed in agreement, Beard narrowed his eyes at how his best friend’s attention was back on the open laptop in front of him. “You looking up where to get one?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Ted replied, eyes glued to the screen.

Beard got up from his chair. “Move over.”

Roy Kent is standing on your doorstep, and somehow that’s not the most surprising thing to happen to you all week.

However, you are surprised. So much so that the second you see him, a mix of red-hot anger and panic run through your veins, making you instantly slam the door in his face. Tragically, he’s quick enough to slip his foot between the door and the frame, not allowing you to keep him out. You see him grimace through the slit.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “That’s a fucking heavy door.”

“Yeah?” you ask, continuing to push on the door like a five-year-old. “Surprised your reflexes were fast enough to pull that one off, Grandpa.” You glance down and do the math. “With your bad leg, too. Impressive.”

You see him wince at the pressure. “If you keep pushing on that door, we’re going to have an actual fucking problem.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared,” you reply. “Do I get a headstart when you have to pop the knee back in?”

Roy grunts. “I think it’s fair game with that ACL.”

You push harder on the door.

Roy’s had enough. His weird, Superman strength peaks through as he holds out an arm to push back, making you stumble slightly. “Can you fucking… stop?” His voice strains on that last word, finally opening the door enough to free his foot and keep it open. You know him well enough to know that trying to push back is useless. However, as you hide yourself behind it, your hand remains on the door, just in case.

“How the fuck do you know where I live?”

“I frequent the West Ham directory,” he answers dryly. You move to push on the door once more, but he speaks before you can. “I fucking texted Rebecca. She somehow knew.”

While you were also weirded out about how Rebecca knew your address, her presence was much less off putting than the man’s before you. If he’d texted Rebecca about you, that meant you’d been talked about. Which meant that Rebecca had confronted Roy about your conflict. Which meant that he was here to…

The implication of it unnerves you. But still, you ask, “Why are you here?”

“I just want to talk,” he replies.

You scoff. “Well, we talked. I’m good for another ten years.”

It’s then that he says your name. Your actual name. Not your last name, or your number, or the stupid nickname he used to call you. And it’s said so softly. So much more gentle than you ever remember his voice being. It straight-up ambushes you, and the remainder of the grip you have on the door fades.

“Please,” he says in that same way. “Give me five minutes.” You rest your forehead on the door, wanting nothing more than to shut it in his face again and walk away. “Five minutes, and then you can tell me to fuck off.”

You’re not sure what makes you do it. You’re not sure why your resolve suddenly crumbles and you start to consider his words. Maybe it’s because you’re still surprised to see him. Maybe it’s because you’re exhausted from this last week. Or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last four hours mulling over Rebecca’s offer and have realized you may actually want this.

Whatever it is, you groan dramatically, say something that sounds a whole lot like fine, fucking fine to Roy, and open your door all the way to really look at him for the first time in eight years.

The sight of you seems to catch him as off guard as he does for you. He looks older, years more mature than the last time you saw him. But it’s not just in the face. His entire presence seems matured. Healed. It’s jarring.

He’s well-groomed, a vast contrast to the guy you met back in 2012, but similar to the man you left in 2015. It’s just more so. Everything about him is… more. More well-polished. More striking. The TV spots you’ve seen don’t do him justice.

(You mentally kick yourself for even thinking that and immediately feel like you need to wash your hands.)

The dark Richmond Coaching shirt he wears nearly blends in with his eyes, but you swear they’ve gotten lighter. However, the intensity of his stare hasn’t changed. And that’s the first thing you notice as you realize he’s been doing the same sort of evaluation to you.

However, that stare stays on the stupid embroidered soccer ball shorts you now really wish you’d changed out of after Rebecca had left. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he says, “I can’t believe you still have those fucking shorts.”

A sudden, overwhelming feeling of… something washes over you and you can feel tears prick at your eyes. Because you don’t know what to say to that, and because you’re not sure you can respond to that in any sort of way, you cross your arms over your chest. It takes everything in you to keep your gaze on him. “Five minutes,” you tell him.

Roy seems to snap out of whatever headspace he was in, any trace of humor disappearing. Instead, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and clears his throat. He’s standing as if he’s about to make a grand speech, and it leads you to believe he’s rehearsed this. You may have laughed at him if you weren’t anticipating whatever the hell was about to come.

So, as Roy opens his mouth, you brace yourself for impact and wait.

And wait.

But nothing seems to come out. He’s stuck there, like he’s frozen in time, as if he’s some sort of animatronic that’s glitching out. You glance around to double-check that the trees on your street are still blowing in the wind.

Your head tilts, and you awkwardly press your lips together. “I think you’ve got four minutes now.”

Roy glares at you. “Can you just fucking—” He cuts himself off, pointing to his G-Wagon that’s parked outside of your apartment. “I spent two fucking hours in that car figuring out how I was going to fucking do this and then another hour outside of your fucking flat trying to work up the nerve to knock on your fucking door, so can you just shut the fuck up?”

Your hands go up in surrender. “Okay, okay,” you say lightly. Then, you mutter, “You just like, gave yourself a time limit and—”

When he grits out your name, you raise your hands higher and shut your mouth.

A good thirty seconds go by before he finally says, “You played for how many years?”

You blink at him. That’s his big opening line? He knows how long you played— “Seven?”

“Yeah, I fucking know you played professionally for seven. How long overall?”

You have to think about it for a moment. “Since I was three,” you answer. “So, twenty-five years.”

“And how long did you coach?”

He knows this too, but you assume he’s doing it to prove a point. “Six,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Six,” he repeats. “That’s over thirty years you’ve devoted your life to football. Three fucking decades. That’s your entire fucking life.”

That same frustration you felt when Rebecca was talking to you this morning rears its ugly head. “What’s your point?”

Roy doesn’t think he could roll his eyes any harder. “My point is,” he says, “you’ve been in this game for three decades. Why?”

“W-why?” you stammer, staring at him like he’s insane. Nobody’s ever asked you that before. “What do you mean why?”

Roy returns the look. “There’s gotta be a reason you’ve been doing this shit for thirty years. Why?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, shaking your head. “Because I’m good at it? Because it’s literally all that I’m good at? Because it’s all that I’ve ever known? I don’t—”

“No,” he says firmly, and for a moment, as he steps forward, you think he’s going to grab you by the shoulders in the way he used to. To get you out of your head and focus on him. Thankfully, he doesn’t. “Fucking nobody does anything for that long just because they’re good at it. That can’t be the only reason.”

As he stares at you expectantly, you start to understand his train of thought. What he’s trying to get you to admit. What all of this has been about since you first kicked a ball at three years old. What allowed you to sport the number 14 for twenty-five years. Because it’s only ever been about one thing, and he, more than anyone, gets it.

So, as your shoulders slouch and your head bows slightly in an annoyed sort of surrender, he knows he’s got you. Roy fucking Kent, anger-management case study and hothead of the millennium, has got you. And he’s showcasing the type of speech and traits and breakthrough abilities that told you eight years ago that he’d be a fantastic coach. Not that he believed you. Or took it very well, for that matter.

Then, you hear his voice again. And this time, it’s a bit softer. As if there’s a fraction of a smile on his face. “So, why the fuck have you been playing this game for thirty years, you stupid fucking Yank?”

The nostalgia of the name hits you like a bus, and you’re thankful you’re leaning on the doorframe because you truly may have stumbled over. However, there’s no time to dwell on that. You’ve got an answer ready and it takes everything in you not to smile.

A heavy, labored, dramatic sigh escapes you, and you open your eyes to look at him. “Because I love it.”

“Because you fucking love it,” he echoes, and that fraction of a smile you heard in his voice happens to be hidden amongst his perpetual scowl. He takes a step closer to you, pointing at you and tapping on your shoulder. “Don’t you dare let that prick take that away from you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and look away from him. He’s right. Just like Rebecca, he’s right. You hate that he’s right, but he’s right. It’s been years since you’ve seen him be right, but it hasn’t gotten any less annoying.

You think back to what Rebecca said this morning. Don’t let him win. You didn’t want to. There was actually nothing less that you wanted than to allow him to have that sort of power over you.

But still, the fear lingers. It sits in your stomach and churns it. He said he’d ruin you. Turn the world against you. It’d be your word against the club’s and more importantly, your word against football darling and West Ham star, Tom MacDonald’s.

(“Sure, you can go public with it,” Rupert had told you, basking in the anger written in your expression. “But to be completely honest, love, I’m not sure anyone’s going to believe you.” He shrugged. “Only female coach in the league suddenly crying sexual harassment after she’s been fired? Seems a bit convenient to me, don’t you think?”)

You don’t mean for your voice to be as small as it is when you say, “But what if I’m actually done?”

Vulnerability’s never been something you’ve embraced, especially with your career path, and you hate the way you sound. Weak. Timid. Afraid. As you meet his gaze once again, you realize that you hate the way that Roy’s looking at you even more.

“You’re the furthest thing from done. Done hasn’t ever been a word in your fucking vocabulary,” he tells you. There’s no room for argument. “You wanna know why?” You shrug at him in response, cueing him to continue. “Because unfortunately, I fucking know you. And I know the only time you’d ever be done with this sport is when you’re fucking dead.”

This time, you do allow yourself to smile. It’s small and humorous— a tight-lipped agreement, but it’s enough for Roy to know he’s gotten through. You want to laugh, partly because you know he’s right, partly because you can’t fucking believe that you’re smiling at him, but you’re strong enough to keep that in.

“So, yeah. Don’t let that prick kill you. Don’t let any prick keep you out of this game. Especially coaching.” Roy shakes his head, pausing for a beat, as if he’s making an effort to say, “You’re too… fucking good.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Took a lot to get that one out, huh?”

Roy’s quick with a response. “You’re lucky you got it at all.”

You scowl, but there’s not much in it. You’re used to that type of compliment from him. If you can even call it that. Still, the familiarity of it makes you the most uncomfortable you’ve been all day.

However, you’re distracted by one thing. Don’t let any prick keep you out of the game. He’s said it so casually, like he’d actually meant it. As if he had no sense of irony about it. It boils your blood and stirs something ugly in you.

That feeling prompts you to meet his gaze. “What if one of those pricks is right in front of me?”

For the first time all night, his stoic expression falters, as if that was the last thing he’d ever expected you to say. It was only a fraction of a second. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment.

But you hadn’t missed it. You’d seen the Tin Man facade crumble, even for just a second. You’d seen the hurt in his eyes, the regret. You’d celebrate it if it didn’t make you feel so unexpectedly awful.

He abruptly clears his throat with a solemn nod. “Well,” he says gruffly. ”Then don’t let me take that away either."

You look away from him, because you know that’s all you can do right now. Your mind’s racing a million miles an hour, thinking about him, about Rupert and West Ham and Tom MacDonald, and about the Richmond job. There’s a piece of you that wants to believe that everything that had happened this week was leading to this. To seeing him again, to being offered to work with him, to gain an opportunity for redemption in more ways than one.

But the more logical piece of you knows that’s all bullshit. And it’s that thought that puts you back in a more comfortable headspace.

“You know I can’t forgive you for what you did,” you tell him, meeting his eyes once more. The weight of your words is heavy on your shoulders and you lean against your doorframe again. “I won’t forgive you.”

Roy nods stiffly. “I know,” he says. “And I can’t forgive you.”

You return his nod in understanding. “I know.”

His gaze leaves yours for a moment, like he’s trying to figure out how to phrase what he wants to say next. How to work up the courage to do so.

“But if—” Roy’s voice comes out strained and he clears his throat. “If this is something you want, this coaching thing at Richmond, then I…” He looks at you and all you can see is sincerity. You hate it. “It’ll be professional. Civil. I won’t let there be any issues or… fucking whatever.”

He appears to be just as bad at this as he was when you last saw him. You bite the inside of your cheek to hold in your laughter. By the way his face becomes instantaneously annoyed, you can tell he’s noticed.

You’re already talking before he can retract his statement. “How’s the team?”

If he’s offended by you not thanking him for doing the bare fucking minimum, he doesn’t show it, and takes your change in topic in stride. “Good,” he replies. “Pretty fucking good. We’re still trying to figure some shit out when it comes to—”

“No,” you interrupt him. “I’ve seen you guys play. I know you’re good. I mean—” Your throat suddenly gets tight, a pit of anxiety forming in your stomach completely out of nowhere. A shaky breath leaves your lips. “The team. The guys. Are they…?”

Roy catches on. “They’re good lads,” he says, his voice telling you that it’s not a statement, but a fact. “Some of the best I’ve ever played with. Easy to coach too.”

Your brow quirks up. “Easy?”

“If two fucking clowns from Oklahoma and fucking… me are saying they’re easy,” he says, looking at you with intent as he trails off.

That same pit of anxiety bubbles up once more. “And, uh… Jamie Tartt? Is he—?” Roy’s brow furrows. “I’ve just heard some less-than-great things. Him being the star and all. Football darling or whatever. Are they true?”

Your over-explanation of the Richmond striker makes Roy narrow his eyes in suspicion. He opens his mouth to question it, but then realizes it’s you. There had to be some personal reason for you to bring it up. Whatever issue it was, he knew he was no longer personal enough with you to ask.

“He was a prick,” Roy finally settles on. “Now he’s less of a prick.”

The fond look in Roy’s eyes tells you that he’s warmed up to Jamie more than he’s letting on, and it puts you at ease. You nod in acknowledgment. Silence fills the air between you two, neither of you knowing what else to say.

You think about the team you’ve watched quietly on TV, studying up for your rivalry games with them when you were preparing to coach at West Ham. You think about your prospective coaching staff and the vitriol you heard in Nathan Shelley’s voice when you asked him about Ted Lasso. You think about the job and what evidently comes with it.

But most importantly, you think about the potential of this new position and the potential of this new beginning.

And while you’ve got questions, you realize they’re all for yourself. Not for Roy.

You’re out of questions and he’s out of time. Way out of time.

You remember this as you rock back on your heels. “I think you’ve gone over your five minutes.”

Roy looks at you expectantly. “Are you going to tell me to fuck off?”

“You? Absolutely,” you tell him, earning yet another eye roll. “But Richmond?” You pause, trying to ignore just how quietly hopeful he now looks. You sigh, shoulders slumping. “Tell Rebecca I’ll consider it.”

Roy releases a relieved, thankful breath, nodding at you. “Good,” he says.

You nod back at him. “Wouldn’t want you to spend another three hours in your car trying to figure out how you’re gonna break the bad news to her.”

That eye roll returns, but there’s a bit of levity in it. He looks at you for a moment longer, biting the inside of his cheek like he's contemplating saying something else. Your brows furrow in interest, and as soon as they do, he seems to decide against it.

Roy turns to go down your steps with a shake of his head. “Get out of those fucking shorts and stop your wallowing, Fourteen,” he throws behind him as he walks away. “And clean your fucking flat!”

Glancing behind you, your jaw drops in outrage as you realize there’s no way in hell he saw your warzone living room from where he was standing. “You can’t even see into my apartment!”

He doesn’t turn around when he says, “I don’t need to see! I just fucking know you.”

You manage to suppress the urge to actually yell at him to fuck off at that, and instead choose to live with the wildly strange and undefinable feeling that overtakes your body, one that doesn’t dissolve until you watch him speed off down your street.

This fucking week, man.

You shut your door and turn to face your living room, a newfound disgust for the vile state that it’s in. Your lips curls up and you sigh, walking into your kitchen to grab a trash bag, making a plan of action for the night as you shake it out.

You replay your first conversation with Roy in eight years as you tidy up your apartment. You make a mental pros and cons list of the Richmond job as you take the longest, most necessary shower of your life. You chuckle to yourself at the idea of Rupert and Tom’s faces if they were to see that you’d been picked up by Richmond.

You sleep well for the first night in three days, on clean sheets, in clean pajamas, embroidered soccer ball shorts joining your dirty laundry.

You’re bounding into your kitchen at nine the next morning to grab Rebecca’s card that you left on your counter, brewing an espresso as you call her.

#roy kent #ted lasso #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fic #roy kent x you #ted lasso fanfiction #aatwe #the one who can't walk up stairs #aces

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wutheringmights · 3 months

Text

Chapter 27: The Holy Lament & The Good Night Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Additional Tags: Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Alternate Universe, Character Study, War, world building, Trauma, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Political Intrigue, Found Family, Angst and Humor, Warriors is a very complicated person, Warriors also does not know Time is Mask, Warriors (Linked Universe)-centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Heavy Angst, Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Please read content warnings before each chapter, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Power Imbalance, Implied/Referenced Torture, Blood and Injury, Disabled Character, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Summary: “You are going to hear a lot of terrible things about me. Most of it is going to be true.” Being the hero who saved Hyrule from a bloody war was a thankless job that left Warriors with more regrets than he cared to remember. He only started to heal after meeting his fellow heroes from across time and joining them on their quest to defeat the black-blooded monsters. But when his time-hopping journey takes him back home, he finds his kingdom on the brink of war once more. This war threatens to ensnare not only Warriors, but his newfound family as well. Warriors will do whatever it takes to keep them safe, even if that means becoming a traitor to the kingdom he gave up everything to save. But the harder Warriors works to protect his family, the more the secrets of his dark past come to life. Who is Captain Link Walton, the Hero of Warriors? What happened to the two other heroes he had once fought alongside all those years ago? When this is over, will Warriors even have a family left to save or is he doomed to repeat his past mistakes? (Once, there were three brothers: the captain, the engineer, and the child. Their story did not have a happy ending.)

If I didn't force myself to post this now, I don't think I ever will. I have not been so nervous about a chapter in a very long time.

Does that bode well for me? No. But I will march on nonetheless. Insert joke about this chapter is already over half a million words long and all the rights it gives me to do whatever the hell I want at this point.

In this chapter of--and I cannot stress this enough--my incredibly niche fanfiction:

Link has a fun night out on what is totally not the Hylian equivalent of Halloween

Ganondorf is here, and you know what that means! Keeping Up With the Harkinians is back!

And... uh... what I can only describe as the stupidest decision I have ever made (yay)

>> Read it here >>

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sm-tlov-r · 3 months

Text

Smut one shot requests (I write them on Wattpad & here but you can only request on here, my Wattpad user is sm_twrit_r) I only do male smut sorry

Baby:

-damiano younes

-niccolo govender

- Brando de sanctis

-fiore fiorenzi

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Harry potter + fancast:

-theodore nott

-mattheo ridde

-tom riddle

-lorenzo berkshire

-regulus black

-blaise zabini

-cedric diggory

-harry potter

-ron weasley

-fred weasley

-george weasley

-draco malfoy

-professor snape

-professor lupin

- James potter (fancast)

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Outer banks:

- JJ maybank

- john b

- poper heyward

- rafe cameron

- topper Thornton

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The vampire diaries:

-damon salvatore

-stefan salvatore

- Enzo st john

-jeremy gilbert

-tyler lockwood

- alaric saltzman

-klaus mikealson

- elijah mikealson

-kol mikealson

- kai parker

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The walking dead:

-daryl dixon

-rick grimes

-carl grimes

-negan smith

-glenn rhee

-ezekiel sutton

-jesus (Paul) monroe

-abraham ford

-alden

-merle dixon

-dwight

-shane welsh

-micheal mercer

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Stranger things:

-steve harrington

-eddie munson

-billy hargrove

-jonathan byers

-dimitri

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Riverdale:

-jughead jones

- archie andrews

- f.p jones

-sweetpea

-fangs fogarty

-reggie mantle

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Shameless:

-ian gallagher

-lip gallagher

-carl gallagher

-mickey milkovich

-kevin ball

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Grey's anatomy:

-derek shepherd

-alex karev

-jackson avery

-mark sloan

-george o malley

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Random:

- Jake webber

- johnnie guilbert

- Colby brock

- Sam golbach

- Vinnie hacker

- ghost (cod)

- ghostface

-dominic fike

-javon walton

-jaden walton

-matt sturniolo

-chris sturniolo

-dean winchester

-samwinchester

-percy jackson(og)

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The rookie:

-tim bradford

-john nolan

-wesley evers

-aaron thorsen

-henry nolan

----------------------------------------------- if there's any kinks, tropes or setting you want in lmk in comments or lmk in messages

MY WATTPAD IS DOWN RIGHT NOW!!

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halfmoondaze · 2 years

Note

I was thinking maybe Jack and sweetheart reader are at some event and some random influencer been tryna start beef with reader on the internet. Reader doesn’t know her and hasn’t responded because it’s not her character. Jack would be so protective. 💕

Protective Jack

Trigger warning: mentions of body shaming

“I’ve never met the girl, she seems nice...but I just don’t feel like she’s a good role model”

Hannah Walton, who was the current beloved social media personality, mostly known for her quirky dances on Tik Tok, was being interviewed in the Fresh & Fit podcast.

“How is that?”

“I just…you know, anorexia is a dangerous thing and I think it is disgusting for someone to promote that as the ideal body standard. I’m sorry but looking like a skeleton is not cute”

The interviewer giggled at her response.

Then she quickly added “I’m sorry, but curves are sexy, sticks aren’t”

“You know she’s dating Jack Harlow, right?” the other interviewer commented.

“Is she?” she asked followed by laughing again. “No, I didn’t know. I thought he was more into women who had something to grab onto…..Good for her I guess”

“Well, back to your collab with Fashion Nova…”

It wasn’t long before Y/N found herself tagged in a bunch of posts regarding Hannah Walton’s comments. At first, she was confused, and ultimately, her anxiety was at an all-time high at the thought that she had now become the current laughingstock on social media.

Jack, was set to not be back home until late at night and found himself walking through their shared apartment front door at 1 pm, which took Y/N by surprise.

Y/N and Jack have been dating more a little more than a year now, and even though they were private about their relationship, Jack has made the public and fans know he was in a relationship with Y/N, who was a visual artist. Because of her anxiety, she wasn’t into the idea of being in the public eye, but she wanted to be in a relationship with Jack without feeling he was hiding her. And Jack was supportive of her, which is why since then for the first time he would let it be known he was with Y/N without getting into too many details about her life.

The news of Jack no longer being single came as a shock to everyone, given that to the public, he didn’t seem the type to be in a serious relationship, and with that came a lot of support and some hate.

Jack who was set to not be back from the studio until late at night, found himself walking through the front door of their shared apartment around 1 pm.

“Y/N?” he called out for her.

He could hear in the distance the sound of the tv, and as he approached the living room, he found Y/N wrapped in a throw blanket, lying on the couch scrolling through her phone while the TV played in the distance.

“Hey” he softly said taking a seat by the edge of the couch.

She was currently going through her Tik Tok, attempting to escape all the drama from Twitter, but as soon as she noticed him, she discarded her phone somewhere on the couch smiling at him.

“Hey, I thought you were going to be at the studio for a while”

“I was, but I wanted to check on you” he paused. “Is she the same girl who kept running her mouth about you on Twitter?”

“How did you know about that?”

“Fans kept me posted”

“It’s so embarrassing…” she said looking away.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. None of the things she said were true”

“I know, but I just can't deal with the hate…I just don’t know how you do it sometimes”

“Well, it would surprise you to know not all of the comments are hateful”

Y/N looked at him confused.

“See it for yourself” he said as he handed her his phone.

Upon taking a look, she became overwhelmed by all the supportive comments from fans, and other celebrities standing up to her.

Right in that moment, she felt so grateful for everyone's support, but overall, she felt so loved and appreciated for having Jack by her side and she wouldnt have it any other way.

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow one shot #bf!jack #shy!reader #jack x y/n #jack x reader #jack x you #jack harlow social media au #social media fic #social media au #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow fic

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festivalsofmargot · 11 months

Text

Illicit Affairs {Dad!Garreth Weasley x F!Professor!Reader}

AGED UP CHARACTERS, 18+ SCENARIOS (Characters are adults, graduated from Hogwarts, and are 18+)

Introduction: Garreth thinks back on his life with you, and it was far from perfect. But he’d relive every second if he had the chance.

Word Count: ~ 13,100 (I think I’m gonna puke)

Warnings: Smut, Angst without a happy ending, Cheating, Loss

Author’s Note: Want to say right now that cheating is disgusting. This is purely a fantasy scenario. So if you get triggered by cheating I highly recommend you skip out on this fanfic. This romanticizes it and I didn’t really write the person getting cheated on as a realistic human being. More than anything, this is smut with a plot. I watched Cyberpunk: Edgerunners and I’ve never felt so empty inside. So writing this, I just felt like being sad, ya know? Like literally ruining my entire month.😃 Anyways, it’s 10 pm my time so still Wednesday for me. Bone Apple Tea Weasley Wednesday-ers! I’m going to hyperventilate and cry in bed. (Like wtf did I write this...?)

Songs (if interested):

Illicit Affairs - Taylor Swift

Little Stranger - Dawid Podsiadło

I Really Want to Stay at Your House - Rosa Walton, Hallie Coggins

Baby Teeth - Bunny Lowe

It’s My Fault - End Credits - Roque Baños

Whether the warmth in Garreth Weasley’s cheeks was coming from the multiple glasses of whiskey he had or the fireplace he sat across, he wasn’t sure. But it was welcome all the same. As he looked into the flames and slouched in his chair, lightly rubbing at his chin, he thought back on his life with you.

The two of you had been the best of friends while you attended Hogwarts. The moment he asked you to sneak a fwooper feather out of Professor Sharp’s office, he had felt in his gut that you were going to be someone special.

He had always been upset he only had three years with you at Hogwarts, and you had been too. Both of you had said “If only we met in first year.” too many times to count, but meant it every single time.

He knew it now that you had felt the same way about him. But during school, it was a constant struggle not to kiss you, especially after every dangerous outing the two of you had gone on. He had fallen hard and fast for you during his fifth year, and that infatuation never seemed to dissipate, even to this day.

Everything about you was perfect to him, you had fit together just right. But he was afraid if he ever confessed and it turned out you hadn’t seen him in that way, he’d lose you forever.

Thankfully, you had made the first move a few years after the two of you graduated. Merlin knows his cowardly ass never would have. That following month in Hogsmeade had easily been the best month of his life.

“If you’re sweet, maybe I’ll get you that discount.” Garreth said coolly to the woman with fox eyes before him, restocking some potion ingredients on the shelves.

“Are you sure sweet is what you want, Gar?” The woman flirted back, and Garreth’s body tensed at the shortened version of his name coming off her lips. He was able to keep an easy smile on his face and continue restocking, but he still didn’t like anyone else calling him that except for you.

“Fine, play coy.” She sighed playfully when he kept quiet and she made her way out. She gave him a little wave and as soon as she was out of sight, he let the smile vanish from his face. He didn’t even remember this woman’s name truth be told, thank Merlin she left before he had a chance to let that slip.

Garreth had been a little more reckless than usual these past few months. He hadn’t received a letter back from you in ages. As soon as you graduated from Hogwarts, you pursued the magizoology field while he went to work for Parry Pippin.

Garreth knew your main focus would be going after any poacher you came across rather than studying magical beasts. Try as you might to talk down what you did in your letters, he wasn’t stupid, he knew you.

Your silence had filled him with so much dread, he was wishing more than anything you had just decided you wanted nothing to do with him anymore. He didn’t care, as long as you weren’t dead. Please Merlin, don’t be dead.

To distract himself, he dove head first into the bachelor lifestyle. Drinking and women were his main hobbies outside of J. Pippin’s Potions. Being young and handsome, living on his own, and having plenty of his own money now, he was making himself enjoy it.

Garreth was manning the store by himself that day, looking over stock and crossing items off his parchment when he heard the doorbell ring. He absently greeted whoever had just entered the shop, not taking his eyes off his list.

“Welcome to J. Pippin’s, let me know if you need help with anything.”

“Gar?”

At the sound of your voice, Garreth nearly broke his neck turning to look at you. His eyes were wide, breath hitching in his throat.

The moment he locked eyes with you, you lost every word you had planned on saying to him. “I um… It’s good to see you again.”

Garreth dropped everything he was holding, closing the distance between you two in only a few steps, pulling you into a tight embrace. You didn’t hesitate to hold him back, letting his warmth envelope you.

“I was worried you were dead.” He whispered into your hair as the relief washed over him.

“I nearly was.” You admitted.

Keeping his hold on you, he pulled back just enough to look at your face. He noticed then that there was a small bandage on your cheek, and some other areas looked recently healed.

“That’s why I’m here. I needed to see you. Needed to tell you I -”

Garreth looked into your eyes and listened close, silently urging you to continue.

“I’m in love with you, Gar.” You breathed, as if a huge weight lifted off your shoulders finally telling him. “I always have been. It was close during my last outing and - When I thought I wasn’t going to make it, my biggest regret was never telling you. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same. I - I just needed you to -”

Garreth silenced you by crashing his lips onto yours. Keeping one arm around your waist, he brought up one hand to cup your jaw. He had caught you by surprise, but it didn’t take long to register what was happening and kiss him back.

This. This right here was exactly what you two always dreamed of doing ever since your fifth year at Hogwarts.

The sound of voices approaching the shop from outside made him tear his lips away from yours. He took a step back and you couldn't help the bashful smile that tugged at your lips.

"Sorry. Parry Pippin will have my head if he caught word of me snogging in the shop while he was away."

"No need to apologize." You chuckled and turned to leave. "I can leave you to it."

Garreth's eyes widened. "Where are you going?" He asked in a panic and took a step towards you.

"I was going to run a few errands around Hogsmeade. Get a room."

Garreth opened his mouth to protest, but some customers came in. "Welcome." He called, dismissing his usual greeting line and looking back at you. "Don't get a room." Garreth said loud enough for only you to hear.

You gave him a smile and nod, then took your leave. He made his way back behind the counter, watching your form out the window until you were out of sight. How was he supposed to carry on working as normal now that you were back and he had free reign to kiss you?

By the time you finished up what you needed to do and headed back to J. Pippin's Potions, Garreth was hurriedly closing up the shop.

He looked up with a beaming smile when you walked through the door again. Setting down some empty vials, he strode up and pulled you into another deep kiss. He was learning fast that he wasn't going to be able to help himself around you.

Pulling away, he went straight back to his closing routine, aiming to finish as fast as possible so he could leave with you. "Get everything you need?"

"I did." You got a bit shifty, wondering if you should tell him what you had done or it would seem like too much too soon. It hadn't seemed that way to you, having known Garreth for so long. But you hoped he would be happy to hear the news.

"You know you’re staying with me, right?" He said as he put away some ingredients.

You smiled. "I was hoping that was what you meant earlier."

He shot you a smirk over his shoulder. "I think you'll be very proud to see how tidy I keep the place."

"Oh will I?" You quipped, nervously glancing down to your feet and shoving your hands in your pockets.

Garreth took a double take at you, his brows furrowing in concern. “What’s got you so quiet?” A worrying feeling began to set in that he may have been too bold to assume you would be alright with staying with him.

You raised your brows and looked back up at him. “Nothing.” You assured. “Sorry, I uh -” You let out an amused huff at having gotten yourself so worked up. “I got something I want to tell you when we get to your place.”

The ease came back to him as he locked up some cabinets. “You know you already told me you’re madly in love with me, right?”

“I don’t remember saying ‘madly’.”

“Oh, silly me. ‘Devastatingly’ was the word.”

“That could have been it.” You shrugged, biting back your amused smirk. “Wouldn’t hurt to say it a few more times.”

A cheeky grin pulled at his lips. You love me.

“And you haven’t said it back by the way.” You teased.

Garreth’s movements slowed to a stop and he looked back at you, quirking a brow. “I haven’t? Yes, I have. Haven’t I?” Fuck, I haven’t. He had said it in his head so many times, were you certain he hadn’t even slipped up and said it aloud once?

“Well, then…” Turning out the lights and grabbing his coat, he shrugged it on and strode up to you. He cupped your face in his hands and planted another kiss on your lips. “I love you too.”

“That was corny.”

“It was.” He took your hand in his and led you out. “I’ll work on it.”

“After you.” Garreth said as he opened the door to his home.

“Wow.” Your eyes widened as they roamed his place. “You weren’t joking when you said you kept it tidy. I thought you were, or at least had a different definition of tidy.” You turned back towards him and looked him up and down suspiciously. “This isn’t the Gar I knew back at Hogwarts.”

“I’m a changed man.” He said coming up and pulling you against him, capturing your lips. How could you expect him to keep his hands off of you at this point? If you asked him, he’d say the two of you had some lost time to make up for.

On one hand, it was wonderful knowing you pined for him all these years just as he had for you. But on the other, it was a bit frustrating knowing he could have been with you all this time, could have pulled you off to secret corners and kissed you senseless.

“Wait wait,” You slowed his kisses to a halt and took glances around his home. “Is there a room I can change in? I’ve been traveling all day and want to get out of these clothes.”

“Bedroom’s just there.” He gestured with his head towards it, not taking his eyes off of you. You gave him a grateful nod, slipping from his embrace.

“Won’t be a moment.” You called over your shoulder.

While he waited for you, he decided to grab some glasses from his cupboard. Maybe you’d be up for a stiff drink or two with him to celebrate. But truth be told, he needed something to help with his nerves. He was beyond elated to have you back, he didn’t want to mess this up.

His hands were shaky as he poured, and he cursed under his breath. The nerves were really hitting him. Easy now, Weasley. It’s you. We’ve been friends for years. He tried to inwardly calm himself.

But you weren’t quite friends anymore were you? Your confessions meant you were seeing each other now, right? So he was heading into uncharted territory with you. Merlin, of all the times for him to overthink in his life, why did it have to be then?!

He heard his door open and he turned back towards you with drinks in hand. “How would you feel about -” Garreth’s jaw went slack and he dropped the glasses, shattering them along the floor. You were standing at his bedroom doorway, completely naked.

“Oh fuck.” He croaked.

“Come here, Gar.”

“Yep, coming.” Though his mind was a mess, he was thankful to every higher power he could think of that his body kicked into gear to get to you.

His hands went for your hips first, gripping the soft skin there as his mouth went for your neck like a starved man, leaving open mouthed kisses and bites everywhere he could. So this is what it’s like to taste every bit of you, I always wondered.

You let out the most delicious sounds as he walked the two of you towards his bed. You fell back and he fell on top of you. You instantly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him close. You had dreamed of having him like this for so long, it was hard to keep a loose grip.

“Mmh. Wait. Let me -” He sat up, and with hurried fingers began undoing his vest, you sat up as well and helped him, the both of you smiling like ecstatic idiots. If there was a feeling to describe looking down at you looking back up at him as you went for his clothes, it would be euphoria.

Shrugging off his vest and then going for his shirt, he couldn’t believe how many layers he had on. Was this really what he dressed himself in every day? How did he ever find the time?

Slipping off his shirt and unable to keep his lips away a moment more, he bent down to capture yours again. He stayed locked with you as he went for his pants. Thankfully there weren’t as many buttons as the shirt, and he shoved them down with your help. But the pants caught on his legs. He stood to his feet to get them off but tripped over himself, hitting the ground with a loud thunk.

“Ow!” He cackled, finally kicking them off and you went into hysterics.

Climbing back onto the bed with a groan, he smiled down at you as he crawled over and laid on top of you. The nerves completely gone as you continued to howl with laughter.

Sighing, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you held him lovingly against you as you tried to calm down.

“Satisfied already, are you?” He said with a feigned annoyance, but the grin was still on his face, hidden against your neck.

“Yes, very much so.” Your laughter dissipated into little giggles as you wiped away the amused tears from your eyes.

The two of you laid there like that for a moment, just holding each other. And he thought back to when you had cuddled and napped together in the Room of Requirement frequently during your Hogwarts days. How in Merlin’s name did he think that was just something friends did? He certainly wasn’t cuddling with Leander Prewett.

He didn’t let himself dwell on his missed opportunities anymore. Here was his opportunity now, right under him, holding him close.

He began kissing at your neck, and that seemed to get rid of your amusement entirely, something carnal beginning to take over. His mouth went up from your neck to your jaw, finding his way to your lips again.

He slid his tongue in when he felt your mouth part slightly, and you met him with yours. As your tongues tasted and entwined, he realized it was the closest he had gotten to being inside you, and he wanted more.

Breaking the kiss, he adjusted himself between your legs, teasing his tip at your entrance. He glanced down at you two about to join, then up at your face. Breathless with anticipation, you gave him a nod of your head, and he pushed himself in, ever so slowly.

You kept your eyes on one another as he thrusted into you with a slow rhythm, a rhythm that would help him savor being in you for the first time.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” He breathed, relishing the feel of your slick heat enveloping him.

The noises that escaped you were maddening, and he was beginning to lose himself. But he didn’t want to lose himself, he wanted to be attentive to everything you did as you clung to him, naked in his arms. But when you arched your back and your breasts pressed hard against his bare chest, the control was fraying at the seams.

His thrusts into you came harder and faster, and your hold on him tightened, nails digging into his back. It felt as if you two were more alive than you ever had been. Being intimate with someone was one thing, but being intimate with someone you were in love with brought you to a whole other level.

Multiple times that night, you had gone over the edge together. Tasting, touching, gasping, and sighing.

Both of you sweaty, sore, and satisfied, Garreth had you tucked under his arm, looking up at the ceiling, completely serene. “Back at J. Pippin’s,” He began, his voice raspy. “You said you wanted to tell me something.”

You sat up a bit to look at him, he kept a hand on your back. “When I went around Hogsmeade, I stopped at Brood & Peck.”

You sat up a bit more and Garreth sat up with you, beyond curious at what you were going to tell him.

“I got a job there.”

Garreth’s eyes widened. “You did?” He had been too swept up in your confession and being with you, he hadn’t even thought about where you two would take things from there. But it seemed you were already a few steps ahead anyway, just like you always had been.

He shifted closer and pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him. “But what about your magizoology career? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled but… are you sure this is what you want?” He asked looking up at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t want to fight anymore.” You sighed. “I don’t want to live on the road for years to come. I just want to stay in one place and live my life.”

Garreth loved the sound of that. Even if you hadn’t decided to do this to be with him, he would have been ecstatic just to know you were leaving your dangerous lifestyle. He didn’t have to worry constantly about you getting killed anymore.

“Give me a few days and I’ll find my own place. Promise.”

“About that.” His hand went up through your hair and he pulled your head back towards his. “I wasn’t really planning on you leaving.”

Garreth was a nervous wreck. When the third potion that day had slipped through his fingers and shattered on the floor, he knew he needed to step out and take a breath of fresh air.

He went out back and reached for the ring that was burning a hole in his pocket. When he had bought it, he had been more sure than anything you would say yes. But now that the time was approaching when he would ask you, doubts began to swirl.

Would it be too soon? Sure you had known each other and been close for years, but you had only been seeing each other for a few weeks. Granted, those past few weeks had been some of the best of his life. What if he proposed and you weren’t ready like he was? What if his eagerness to marry you would scare you off and you’d want to leave him and…

Garreth shook his head, taking another deep breath. His overthinking caused him to miss out on so much with you already, he couldn’t let it stop him again.

He took his time closing up the shop that day, he was still fidgety and wanted to get it together at least somewhat for when he went to meet you. Closing had always felt like it dragged on and on, but that night it seemed to speed by.

He went down to Brood & Peck and stepped through the door. You were looking over a map with Ellie Peck and discussing who knows what, probably another home relocation area for the beasts. Garreth couldn’t seem to pay attention, too in his own head still.

You glanced up at him and smiled, mouthing one moment. He smiled back and gave a little nod of his head, praying you would take your time. Merlin knew he needed every second you’d give him.

Finishing up, you grabbed your coat and waved goodnight to Ellie. You met Garreth and took his arm as you walked up the path to your home. You shot each other little smirks as you trekked along.

You sighed in exhaustion and rested your head against his shoulder. “Long day for you too?”

“Hmm? Oh er - yes. Long day.”

“More than anything I want to fall asleep, but I need to bathe first. The stables were a mess today.”

“That’s good to hear.”

You huffed an amused breath through your nose and looked up at his face. He was staring ahead, seemingly off in his own world. “I think it was so bad I might quit and go back to my old job. Hope you don’t mind, I’ll be sure to write you.”

“Mmhm.”

“Sebastian Sallow showed up today and confessed his love for me again.”

“Mmhm - Wait what?!” He snapped his head to face you with wide eyes, but then relaxed when you started to cackle. “Not funny.” He grumbled.

“It was a little funny.” You gave his arm a loving squeeze. “What’s got you so distracted?”

He swallowed thickly and stopped walking. You stopped walking with him and raised a brow at him. “Should I be worried?” You teased.

He decided he just needed to get this over with or he was going to be a nauseated mess for the time being. He took a step back from you and went down on one knee.

At first, you thought he dropped something on the ground, then it hit you when he reached into his back pocket and took out a ring.

He said your name and looked up at you with tortured eyes, your lips parted slightly in shock. “I - I was going to make a special dinner tonight and ask you then but I think I’d burn the house down cooking I’m so nervous.” He swallowed thickly, glancing down at the ring and then back up at you. “I can’t remember exactly what I planned to say. But it was along the lines of me having been mad for you since we were kids, and how I want to be mad for you the rest of my life.”

Tears pricked at your eyes and your chest was nothing but a fluttery mess. “Yes.” You breathed, getting on your knees with him.

An elated smile tugged at the corner of Garreth’s lips. “Yes? I - I had more I was going to say though - but… Yes?”

You nodded your head vigorously and the two of you couldn’t help but laugh. He put the ring on your finger and you grabbed for each other, kissing one another wherever you could get your lips on.

It had already been a month now that you and Garreth were together. He couldn’t believe how the days flew by being with you. But he shouldn’t be surprised. Every day consisted of him waking up to you in the morning, getting up and going to a job where he was surrounded by potions, walking down to meet you at Brood & Peck when he was done, then finishing it off by being buried deep inside you throughout the night.

Sure, you two may have lost out on some hours of sleep. But one could argue that you two taking the time to wear yourselves out could get you a deeper, more effective sleep. It was a running joke between the two of you, and neither of you were sure it was true. But you were both happy, and that was all that mattered.

With a smile on his face he couldn’t seem to shake, Garreth took the time to restock shelves at work. The doorbell rang when someone came in, he recited his usual line with the peppiness that had a hold on him this past month.

“Welcome to J. Pippin’s.” He turned towards the customer. “Let me know if -” He stopped cold in his greeting seeing it was Victoria Willowsmith, an ingredients delivery girl he had been seeing off and on before you came back. “Afternoon, Victoria.” He began as casually as he could, inwardly praying she just wanted to drop off ingredients and leave. “Got ingredients for me?” He put on a polite smile.

She looked uneasy as she walked towards him, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. “Um… not today.”

He absently took out a rag and began polishing a nearby potion vial. “Then what can I do for you?” Something was off, he could feel it.

“I need to speak with you.”

When Garreth arrived to meet you outside of Brood & Peck, you threw yourself into his arms as you always did. “Mmm, I’m ready to head home.”

He kept quiet as he wrapped his arms back around you, but you noticed his hold wasn’t nearly as tight on you as it normally was. You stepped back slightly, looking over his features and noticing he wasn’t meeting your gaze.

“What’s wrong?” You asked in concern, placing a hand on his cheek.

He took a deep breath and took your hand down from his face, stroking his thumb over your skin as the anxiety built up sickeningly at what he was about to tell you. “Walk with me.”

You remained silent as he guided you away from Hogsmeade, down the stone path to a place more isolated.

Garreth sat the two of you on a nearby bench as the sun began to set. He held your left hand in both of his, looking at the ring on your finger. He couldn’t stand the thought of it ever coming off.

The way he was acting brought on a sense of trouble. But you willed yourself to keep quiet, and let him say what he needed to say. As he held your hand, you looked out into the sunset, hoping the sight would help keep you calm.

“You’re everything to me. I hope you know that.” Garreth began, but it only made all of this more eerie. When you didn’t say anything in response, he knew he had to just tell you, not drag this on any longer. “Before you came back, I was seeing this girl off and on. Nothing serious. But she’s come back and told me that she’s -” He ran a shaky hand through his hair and he felt you tense up. “- told me she’s pregnant with my child.”

Your stomach went into agonizing knots as you continued looking out into the sunset. You wanted to throw up, you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry. But after a moment, all those intense feelings turned into something numb.

“Please say something.” Garreth pleaded, finally looking at you then, unable to read your expression. “Shout at me. Anything. I just need you to say something.”

You met his gaze and gave him the smallest of smiles. “You’re going to be a dad.”

Something in him broke. He had wanted you to say those words to him one day, but not under circumstances like this. He sighed your name as you stood up and slipped your hand from his.

He stood with you and tried to search your eyes, but you gave him nothing.

“I uh -” You cleared your throat, trying to hide the sadness that constricted it. “I need to be alone at the house for a bit if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” He took a step towards you, but you took a step back, and he wanted to die.

Without another word, he watched your form walk away.

He slumped back down on the bench until the sun had completely set. Then he headed over to Hog’s Head. Three Broomsticks felt a little too upbeat for such a night.

After a few drinks he decided it was time to face you again at home. Taking one last sip of liquid courage, he made his way out.

The first thing he noticed approaching the house was that none of the lights were on.

“No…”

He burst through the door and called your name in a panic, striding through the house and searching every room for you. “No no no.” But you were gone, and so were your things. There wasn’t a trace of you anywhere, not even a note.

Garreth fell to his knees, the pain hitting him all at once. He had never felt such an ache in his chest, as if a piece of him was gone, ripped right from him.

“Let’s see your list, bug.” Garreth said to his little one as he stepped out the door with her. The ecstatic, freckled, redheaded girl handed him the parchment that listed everything she needed for her first year at Hogwarts and he looked it over.

“Merlin’s beard! I don’t think I had this many books when I attended.” He teased, ruffling her hair.

“Dad.” Matilda grumbled, swatting him away and fixing her curly locks before they got into town. He and Victoria had agreed to name her after his aunt after she passed. She may have been tough on him growing up, but she had done so much for him, it only felt right.

The two of them went up and down Hogsmeade, getting everything she needed. Thankfully, they could save a bit on everything related to potions class. Ever since he took over for Parry Pippin, they had more potion equipment and ingredients to last a lifetime, even for him. Too bad Matilda didn’t seem to share the same passion for it as him. Her attention always seemed to lie in magical beasts, of course. Try as he might to shift her interests all these years, it was no use.

He saved the most exciting part for last, getting Matilda her wand. As they walked on to Ollivanders, he caught sight of that day’s Daily Prophet on the news stand they passed. His jaw tensed when he saw you were on the cover yet again. Seems he saw you there several times a year.

The first time he ever saw you on the cover, he had to do a double take. His legs turned to jelly and he immediately bought the first copy he laid eyes on. He would sneak off to stare at your portrait on the paper for months, maybe even over the course of a year truth be told. But the more he saw you grace the cover over the years, he’d eventually grown indifferent to it. It did start to get old after more than a decade of it happening.

What could you have accomplished this time? Perhaps you took down another magical beast fighting ring, discovered another abandoned dragon’s nest still full of eggs, or maybe even became the first ever human leader of a mongrel pack! Garreth didn’t care. All he needed was that little reassurance you were still alive and well and he could move on with his day.

He hoped Matilda didn’t catch it. Much to his chagrin, she was one of your biggest fans. He always… always had to buy the paper for her when you were on it. When he heard her gasp, he squeezed his eyes shut briefly in defeat. Of course she caught it.

“Dad! Can I have some galleons for -”

“Here, love.” He was already reaching into his pocket and handing her some money. He had never been one to say no to her. She gratefully (he liked to think) swiped it from him and took off towards the news stand.

“Come right back to Ollivanders.” He called, waiting back and not wanting to chance reading over the headline.

You stepped out to greet your students for your first beasts class. Who would have thought, even after the career you’ve had, you’d still get nervous?

As you looked out to all the little first years, you were surprised to see them all silent, attentively waiting to hear what you said next. “Well… Hello, everyone. Today, I say we jump into things and start with basic caretaking for each beast here we have in the stables. All we’ll need is a brush and some feed. But before we begin, any questions?”

Hands shot up, way too many hands. “Oh! Ah - yes you?”

“Is it true you took down Bartley Barrin’s graphorn fighting ring?!” A curly haired student that reminded you all too well of Lucan Brattleby asked in amazement.

You raised your brows, not sure if it would be appropriate to answer such questions, especially to your first year class. “Ah, right. We can discuss such things later, I suppose. Outside of class hours. Now, any questions on basic caretaking?”

All the hands slowly went down except for one, enthusiastic, redheaded girl’s. She was reaching her hand up in the air so high you were worried she’d pull a muscle if you didn’t call on her.

“Yes?”

“Should we grab extra feed for the nifflers so they can stow it away for later?”

A smile tugged at your lips. “No need. They’ll get fed multiple times a day just like the other beasts.”

The girl gave a firm nod of her head as if saying got it. Then her eyes widened and she shot her hand up again.

“Go on.” You were trying to bite back your delighted smile. You’ve only had an enthusiastic student for a few minutes and it was already making you giddy. Please let there be more like her.

“Can we use the same brush on all the beasts? Or do we need to grab different sizes?”

“You can certainly use the same brush on all of them, er - What’s your name, dear?”

“Matilda Weasley.” She answered with a gap toothed smile.

You kept a straight face as your insides constricted a bit and you nodded your head. This wasn’t the first Weasley you had encountered since you arrived back at Hogwarts, it was probably the seventh truth be told. Yet you couldn’t stop your mind from reeling.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Miss Weasley. I hope you keep this enthusiasm even after you see how grumpy kneazles can be.” You clapped your hands together. “All right then! Everyone grab a brush and some feed and we’ll head over to the stables.”

“Dad!” Matilda burst through the door of J. Pippin’s Potions and ran up to Garreth.

He met her with open arms. “There’s my girl. Sporting the Gryffindor robes too, I see.” He looked at her proudly. But then he furrowed his brows and checked his pocket watch. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at dinner?”

“I ate fast.” She said dismissively. “I wanted to ask if I could have some money to go to Brood & Peck to get my own beasts brush!”

Garreth sighed. “Don’t they have brushes you can use for class, bug?”

“They do, but they lock them away when class isn’t in session. Professor Y/N said I could visit the beasts whenever I wanted in my spare time to -”

“Professor who?”

“Y/N, the beasts professor. Didn’t you read the paper?! Now, as long as I have my own brush, I can stop by even when no one’s able to take out the class brushes from storage so…”

Garreth let Matilda go on as the room started to spin. Shakily, he reached into his back pocket and grabbed some galleons for her. Probably giving her too much for what she wanted at Brood & Peck. But he couldn’t seem to think straight at the moment, and he didn’t need Matilda around to see her dad possibly faint.

“Thank you!” She sang, sprinting out the door.

Garreth leaned himself back against the counter, trying to stay steady. He rubbed at his chest in hopes it would help his heart rate go down. The last he saw you was 12 years ago, when you walked away from him. Not a letter, not a glimpse of you outside the Daily Prophet since.

The Daily Prophet.

Garreth grabbed his coat and keys. Switching the open sign to closed, he locked up and made his way home.

He was greeted by Victoria when he stepped through the door. "What are you doing home so early?" She called from the kitchen.

"Matilda needed something from her room." He threw out as he headed there.

Throwing open her door, his eyes roamed the room quickly in search of the Daily Prophet he had gotten her. He spotted it on her dresser and made a beeline for it.

"Famed Magizoologist Takes Up Teaching…"

He looked over the article explaining your move to becoming the next beasts professor for Hogwarts and the bustling nerves within him wouldn’t let him stay still. You’re here… you’re just down the road.

His body seemed to be moving without thinking. He dropped the paper to the ground and made his way out, headed down the road to Hogwarts.

“All right, that's enough questions for today I think.” You chuckled awkwardly, and the several students that had been asking you endless questions about your poacher hunter days whined.

“I know I know. Now I think it’s best you all be off before curfew anyway. I won’t be so interesting when I have to give you detentions, will I?” You guided the students out of your office.

Once you shut the door behind them and were finally alone, you let out an exhausted sigh. Sure, you were grateful you didn’t have difficulty getting students to listen to you, but you couldn’t have predicted how exhausting their questions would become.

Your “career” wasn’t something you looked back on fondly. You had done a lot of things you couldn’t take back, things you lost sleep over. But pursuing it was all you had.

As you turned to get ready for bed, a knock sounded at your door, tensing you up. You took a deep breath to relax and prepped yourself up a bit. No need to get a reputation as a scowling, moody professor quite yet.

Turning on your heel, you went back to the door. “It’s almost curfew.” You called as you opened the door. “You should -”

Words seemed to escape you, which probably didn’t matter much since your voice did as well. Locking eyes with the green ones before you seemed to have the same effect as petrificus totalus.

Garreth was just as frozen in place as you. He didn’t have a plan for when he faced you again, all he had been set on doing was seeing you in person before him. He had walked up and down the road from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade until the sky went dark. Even after all that time, even after 12 years, he still had no idea what he’d say to you.

After a few moments of silence and the both of you trying to regain composure, you swallowed thickly. “Mr. Weasley.” You nodded your head in some sort of greeting, at least that’s what you thought your head did.

“Professor.” He attempted to greet back. “May I… May I come in?”

Nodding your head, you moved to the side to let him through. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he stepped inside. He needed to or else he’d be a fidgety, thumb twiddling mess.

You closed the door and the both of you stood there in silence for a moment, not sure where to begin in starting a conversation with a history such as yours. “Would you like a drink?” You offered.

“Yes. Thank you.” He answered, looking around your office and living quarters. Any minute now, he’d be able to look your way again. Any minute now…

You went to grab the bottle given to you as a welcome gift when you first arrived to teach at Hogwarts. You were planning on saving it for a special occasion, and you couldn’t think of anything that could top what was happening then.

Pouring for the both of you, you grabbed the glasses and walked over to hand one to him. He gave a polite, if not awkward, smile as he took it from you. Both of you downed it a bit fast. Your frantic nerves helping you push passed the dreadful taste.

“Another?” You asked.

“Please.” You gladly took the glass from him again and he ran a shaky hand through his hair.

You returned with your refilled glasses, and he took his from you, just as appreciative as the first time.

“What brings you here?” You managed to begin.

He looked down at his glass, twirling the liquid around in his hand. “I needed to see you.” He decided to confess.

Your breath hitched and your heart rate picked up. The only response you could manage was a nod of your head and an absent sip of your drink.

He looked up and met your gaze. “Was this stupid of me?”

You shook your head. “No.”

He gave the smallest smile and looked back down at his glass.

“I think I met about ten different Weasleys today.” You casually began with a chuckle, the warmth in your cheeks putting you a bit at ease. “By chance were any of them yours?”

He let out an amused breath through his nose. “My little Matilda just started.”

“Ah, so it was Matilda. I had a suspicion. She’s delightful to have as a student just so you know.”

Garreth began to feel a bit more at ease now too. “I bet you it’s only because you have her for beasts class. Any other subject, you might have struggled to keep her attention.”

You nodded your head. “I may have gotten the sense she loved magical beasts. Just a little though.” You quipped.

Garreth shook his head. “Already asked me for her own beasts brush. I tried to remind her the school had some she could use, but she’s a silver tongue that one.”

You laughed at him then. The thought of Garreth Weasley being such a sucker for his little girl was too sweet not to smile at.

“What?” He asked, an amused smile of his own plastered on his face.

“Look at you, Gar. A proper dad.”

His chest fluttered at you calling him that again, but he shoved it back. “In all its glory.” He took another sip of his drink when his emotions began to swirl. In a perfect world, he would have had children with you. You would have been Matilda’s mother. But he shouldn’t dwell on impossible things like that, he had done enough of that already.

“What are you up to these days?” You asked.

Garreth gave a shrug. “A lot of the same really. Parry Pippin gave me his shop.”

Your eyes widened. “He did? That’s wonderful, Gar!”

There you went, calling him Gar again so effortlessly, blissfully unaware of what it did to him. He took another sip. “Not too bad, yeah? Never felt the need to change the name, thought it worked fine as is.”

“Outgrew ‘Garreth’s Subterranean Concoctions’, did you?”

He grunted and rolled his eyes in response, taking another sip of his drink. But he had to admit, at least to himself, he was a little impressed you remembered. “I decided it was, in fact, too obtuse. But I’d rather talk about you and your adventures. Think I’ve seen you in the Daily Prophet once or twice.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “Merlin, don’t remind me. Those journalists are pests. Won’t leave me alone.”

“Can’t really blame them. You’re probably the most interesting magizoologist they’ve encountered. You’re famous now.”

You rubbed at the back of your neck. “I wasn’t trying to be. I think the only plus side is my students seem to be very keen on what I have to say in class.”

“My Matilda’s going to talk your ear off. I hope you’re prepared.”

You smiled again, a warm feeling coming over you. You always knew Garreth would be a doting father. As much as you wanted him to have been the father of your children once upon a time, you couldn’t be mad with where things ended up. He clearly adored his little girl.

“I think you’re underestimating how much I’ll appreciate her enthusiasm.”

“Oh.” He guffawed with a shake of his head. “I don’t think I am.” Another sip. When he realized he finished the last of his drink, he took out his pocket watch and cursed under his breath. “I apologize, I shouldn’t have come to see you so late.”

You waved him off and chugged the last of your drink, going up and taking his glass from him. “You, Mr. Weasley, are welcome any time.” You said as you went to put away the glasses in your kitchen.

He rubbed a hand down his face as you walked him to the door. “Thank you… for tonight. Really.”

You met his serious stare and smiled at him. “Of course, Garreth.”

He smiled back, but it had a hint of sadness to it. Call me Gar one more time. Just once more.

“Goodnight.” He opened the door and went into the night air, giving you a small wave over his shoulder.

“Goodnight.” You called and waved back, then shut the door. You took a deep breath and released it, relieved that your reunion had gone as well as it had. Maybe you could do this. Maybe you could be friends with him again.

Another knock at the door tore you from your hopeful thoughts. You didn’t hesitate to open it back up. “Forget somethi -”

“What’s on your neck?”

You stilled, you had completely forgotten you had it on. You had worn it for over a decade, it basically felt like a part of you now. If you had known he was coming you would have hidden it for the time being, but it hadn’t even crossed your mind until he asked you about it just then.

You were too flustered to answer, and Garreth walked up until he was toe to toe with you. Not taking his eyes off yours, he reached a delicate finger up to tug at the necklace you were wearing. He pulled it up just enough so that it wasn't covered by your shirt anymore. His eyes dropped to what was on it, and he lost all sense of reason. It was the engagement ring he got you. He thought he was seeing things when he caught the briefest glimpse earlier, but he had to be sure. He had to. And now that he was, he knew he was about to do something really stupid.

He looked back up to your eyes, his hand shifted from holding the necklace to cupping your neck, and he slowly leaned down towards you. “You need to tell me to stop.”

You shook your head, your breathing growing heavy. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to close the distance between you so badly, but not like this, not when he had a wife at home. “Go home, Garreth.” You somehow got yourself to whisper, his lips just a breath away from yours.

He stopped. “Alright.” He whispered back and nodded, forcing himself to come to his senses. He kept his eyes on yours as he released you and walked backwards. Once he was far enough, he turned on his heel and strode up the path back to Hogsmeade.

The next day, Garreth headed down to Hogwarts with a crate of overstocked potion ingredients. He remembered how you always asked him for potions back in your school days, surely giving the excess stock to you would be better than tossing it out. Of course, that was, without question, the only reason he was heading to Hogwarts.

He walked along the path towards the beasts class stables, carrying the crate over one shoulder, and he spotted you talking to a student. He walked a bit slower so he could watch you.

You knelt down to the young student’s level and explained something to him. The child was cradling a puffskein in his arms, and you were gesturing to different points on the creature while you spoke. Seeing you interact so well with kids did something to Garreth’s insides.

You glanced in his direction and his throat went dry. You turned back to the student and stood, finishing up your lesson. The student handed you the puffskein and you waved goodbye as he ran off.

You turned towards him, squinting slightly with the sun in your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Can I help you, Mr. Weasley?”

He pointed up at the crate on his shoulder. “Was wondering if you wanted some spare ingredients.” He called back.

“I’ll take whatever you can give me. One moment.” You turned to put the puffskein back in the stable.

Garreth shifted on his feet as he waited for you. He tried to keep his gaze on you subtle as you bent over to put down the puffskein and lock up the gate. But once you faced him fully and walked towards him, he eyed you with undivided attention. Merlin, you’re stunning.

“Let me get the door.” You said as you passed him.

He followed close, doing everything he could to not look at your backside in those pants. With a click of your key in the slot, you pushed open the door.

He stepped in and glanced back at you. “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

Garreth went and placed the crate on your desk, taking glances around your hut, getting a scope of the place. Then he went back up to you, bringing himself toe to toe again, just as close as the night before. “I’m off then.”

You took in his freckles for a moment. Surely it was harmless to admire from afar, right? “You’re welcome any time, Mr. Weasley.” You decided to remind him.

He took the briefest glance at your neck, catching you still wearing the necklace with your ring. “Then I’ll be back tomorrow, Professor.” With that, he took his leave.

It had become a daily occurrence for Garreth, walking down to Hogwarts with spare ingredients from the shop. It was the highlight of his day every time. Just getting to be near you and feel that thick as honey tension between you, it was intoxicating.

It had gone on for weeks, and the excitement hadn’t dissipated in the slightest. If anything, it only grew by the day.

His newfound routine had been thrown off when there was a shortage of wiggenweld potions across the valley. He had been the only shop to have stock and he wasn’t able to leave until every last customer was helped.

As soon as everyone had cleared out, he rushed to close up. Throwing the crate with ingredients over his shoulder, he picked up the pace to make it down to you before Hogwarts’ curfew.

He didn’t expect to walk down and see you waiting on the steps of your hut.

His footsteps slowed to a stop as you stood and eyed him. “You're late.” You stated as you went to get the door.

“Busy day.” He replied as he came up behind you and stepped inside. Walking past you, he went to your desk as he usually did, but stopped and turned when he heard you close the door and lock it.

He met your gaze as you took determined steps towards him. “Put it down.”

Garreth recognized that look in your eye, even if it had been over a decade since he’d seen it. He dropped the crate to the ground, the wood breaking and the ingredients scattering across the floor. He closed the distance between you two, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling your lips to his.

Your hands reached up and gripped the fabric of his shirt, holding him against you just as you had dreamed to these past 12 years.

The two of you licked and bit and sucked at each other's lips in an attempt to fill this insatiable need between you, gasps and sighs escaping. Garreth gripped at your thighs, picking you up and hoisting your legs around him. He carried you to your desk, the two of you urgently shoving off everything that covered it as he sat you on top of it.

With hurried hands, you went for each others’ pants, unbuttoning and pulling down the fabric that separated you both. As soon as he had access, his tip was at your entrance. You shifted so he could enter you, moans coming from both of you as he did.

His thrusts were hard and spaced out as soon as he was in you again. He couldn’t let himself go fast. No, he needed to savor every second of this. The two of you kept your eyes locked on one another as he pounded into you.

When your head began to fall back, he cupped your face, keeping you upright. “Keep looking at me.”

Your hands shot to the back of his head and held tight to his locks as he thrusted into you. He crashed his lips back onto yours, your tongues battling for dominance, and his release was coming fast.

He reached up for the top of your shirt, tearing the top few buttons open, breaking them off and sending them flying. He broke your kiss and looked down at your necklace, the ring in full view before him. Grunts escaped him as his thrusts came faster and he plunged into you until completion.

Both of you breathing hard, you remained holding one another. He rested his head on your shoulder as he caught his breath. You seemed to come out of the blissful haze before he did, but when you shifted to get up he held you in place.

“No.” He said. “No, please. Can we stay like this a little longer?”

The desperation in his voice matched the desperation you felt. But this was a mistake, you shouldn’t have initiated as you had. You should have let him drop off the ingredients and go. But you shut the door and locked the both of you in, selfishly taking him as if he were still yours.

“I’m sorry.” You breathed as you shifted away from him and off the desk. “I shouldn’t have… Forgive me, this is all my fault.” Your voice was strained as you went to grab your discarded pants.

Garreth pulled up his own pants as well, numbly looking at the wall before him. He wanted your warmth against him again, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to get his fill of it. “I’m just as much to blame.”

“I think -” You took a shaky breath and went for the door when you were both clothed again. “I think I’m fine on ingredients. Thank you for everything.”

Garreth’s face went stoic, and he took his leave without looking at you. “You’re welcome.”

You and Garreth kept your distance from each other throughout the following months. But he still kept an eye out for you throughout Hogsmeade. He allowed himself to look, but the temptation to touch never faded.

After a rather taxing day at the shop he decided to pop into Three Broomsticks, he tensed when he saw you at a table in the back talking with Brood & Peck’s new worker. He had seen the fellow around and heard some things about him. He had quite the adventurous background, just like you.

Garreth tried to keep the scowl off his face as he enjoyed a drink or two… or three.

Throughout the night, Garreth spoke amicably with everyone seated next to him at the bar. He’d sip at his drink as he took casual glances your way. You had been talking with that blockhead all night, smiling at him, acting smitten. He hid it well, but it was sending him up the wall.

He caught that you finally said goodbye to the man and took your leave. He downed the last of his drink and left after you. He could probably blame it on the alcohol in his system, but in truth, it was just how crazy you made him.

Coming up behind you, he grabbed your arm and pulled you into a dark, nearby alleyway.

“Hey! Garreth, what in Merlin’s name are you doing?" You took rapid glances around to make sure no one could see you two.

Pinning you between him and the wall, he pressed himself against you. You were taken aback, but immediately compliant. You looked up at him as he put a firm hold on your neck, feeling the chain of your necklace under his fingers.

A thrilling sensation coursed through you and you were eager to see what he would do next, ignoring all the screaming voices in your head to not let it go any further.

He leaned down and bit at your bottom lip, then placed his forehead against yours. “Trying to replace me?”

You didn’t respond, only looked into his darkened eyes with yours as your breathing picked up. Keeping his hand on your throat, he slid his free hand down the front of your pants, immediately going for your folds.

“Go ahead. Just try.” He moved his fingers against your slit and greedily took your lips with his.

You kissed him back with just as much hunger, but you got yourself to turn away and push feebly at his chest. “Garreth… We can’t -” A whimper escaped you at his touch, and he plunged his first finger into you.

“I had to watch you with him all night.” He spoke in a low tone next to your ear.

You bit your lip and your hands slid up from his chest to grip his shoulders. He took that as his chance to slip another finger in.

“Does he know what’s around your neck?” His fingers moved faster. “Hm?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, wanting to slap him, but also wanting him to continue taking you as he was.

“Fuck, I like the way you’re looking at me.” He breathed. He had never taken control like this before, and it was a power trip he never knew he wanted to experience.

Your breathing was becoming shallow as he kept up his movements. “Don’t stop.” You panted in his ear as you threw your arms around him, holding him even closer.

“I’ll stop when I want to stop.”

The combination of his rough fingers and the way he was speaking had you delirious, the fire in your abdomen now an inferno. You were a furnace completely at his mercy and it was everything.

When your heavy breathing melted into moans, Garreth shifted back a bit, moving the hand that was on your throat and placing it over your mouth. “Keep fucking quiet.” He commanded in a hushed tone. But his fingers moved faster within you, almost challenging himself to get you to scream out.

He glanced down at his hand in your pants then back up to your face, and caught your half-lidded, pleasure filled eyes. His knees nearly buckled at the sight, but he stood strong. He could tell you were close, and more than anything he wanted to get you there, be the only person who ever did for the rest of your lives.

Your eyes began to roll into the back of your head and he removed his hand from your mouth, capturing your lips with his. He was going to swallow every cry and mewl he got out of you.

When your walls stopped contracting over his fingers, he slowly slid them out of you. His hands went to your hips and he rested his forehead against yours. As you caught your breath, the two of you had left your hate-fuck filled state and somehow shifted to something else.

“Tell me you still love me.” He exhaled, trying to stay steady. “Tell me you still love me like I love you.”

You took in his freckles with him being this close, just like you had always done. “Of course I still love you. You’re all I have left.”

His throat constricted. “Then why did you leave?”

Your arms snaked around his shoulders. “Garreth…”

“You didn’t even leave a note.” He shook his head slightly, the tears began to sting at his eyes. “You left me with nothing. We could have figured something out. We could have -”

You pulled his head down to your shoulder, cradling him there. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight to him.

“Please just… tell me why you left without giving me a chance. I know I didn’t deserve it. I know that. But I have to know what was going through your head.”

You let out a shaky breath, keeping your own tears at bay. “There wasn’t a place for me there.”

He tightened his hold on you and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“It didn’t feel like my home anymore. That house was for you and your family.”

“You were my family.” He argued against your neck. “We were going to get married.”

“But we weren’t yet. And you had a baby on the way, Garreth.” You sighed. “I thought about coming back so many times. I did once.”

Garreth pulled back slightly, furrowing his brows and meeting your eyes. “When?”

“About a year after I left.” You admitted. “Your aunt had passed and I wanted to visit her grave. Told myself I was going to let you go and give you back the ring while I was at it. Then I saw you sitting outside your house holding little Matilda.” You smiled a bit thinking back on it. “You looked tired, but so happy. I felt like I’d only intrude, so I left.”

Garreth thought about it, and he didn’t know what he’d do if you decided to meet with him. He had come to terms with it all by then, marrying Victoria, having Matilda, losing you. He might have been able to stand tall. But then again, he went mad just seeing your picture in the Daily Prophet for the first time.

“And the ring? After all this time?”

You shook your head. “I can’t seem to let you go.”

You held each other in the alley like lovesick teenagers who snuck out in the night. He kissed you then, but without the aggression or urgency. For the first time since he’d had you in his arms again, his lips were tender on yours.

Just like it had when you were seeing each other over a decade ago, time seemed to fly by. Months had passed since he began sneaking away to see you, taking a quick floo to your hut and locking yourselves away for a few stolen moments. Moments where you two would be entwined. He’d be on top of you, under you, any position he could manage while he was inside you. Sometimes you’d make love, sometimes you’d fuck. It was all perfect to him.

That potions shop keeper is having an affair with the beasts professor at Hogwarts. Garreth imagined people around Hogsmeade would say. But your meetups were the best kept secret he had ever had. No one ever suspected a thing.

Sure it was a bit thrilling to have secrets, but all that mattered was that he had you again. He couldn’t ask for anything more.

Except for maybe a divorce. He felt awful running around on Victoria as he was. She was a fine wife, a fine mother. But he hadn’t felt that spark of life he always had with you. The moment he saw you standing in person before him again, he knew his marriage was over. He had nothing more to offer her.

It had weighed heavily on Garreth. Separating wouldn’t exactly be easy to do legally, or cheap. But he’d push through, whatever it took to get the life he had been aching for since the moment you left.

He hadn’t touched Victoria since you came back. She had tried, and he’d been dismissive. Even spending a good amount of his nights sleeping at the shop. She had sensed his distance easily, and eventually gave up on trying. He hoped she found a lover too.

He’d go easy on Matilda and break the news to her when the time came. He reasoned her being away at Hogwarts a majority of the year now would give her enough space from it all. There was never a good time for parents to separate, only the sooner the better at this point.

Matilda hadn’t attended beasts class that day. You would assume she was out sick, but something felt off. Every time she was sick she would still make her way to beasts class, and you’d always have to tell her she could catch up after hours and to go get some rest. But she hadn’t even shown up that day, and it set all your alarm bells off.

“You’re not in trouble, I promise you.” You assured the student you overheard mentioning her name. “Just tell me where she said she’d be.”

“W - Well, she mentioned a place called Henrietta’s Hideout? Hideaway? Said she needed to find a runaway niffler.”

Your blood had gone cold. Henrietta’s Hideaway was beyond dangerous for anyone, let alone a child. It had been riddled with traps and dark wizards when you and Garreth went exploring there, when you were particularly young and stupid. “Are you sure?”

The student nodded his head, clearly nervous.

You turned on your heel, immediately heading to the nearest floo.

Matilda felt in her gut coming to Henrietta’s Hideaway would be dangerous, but she ignored that feeling and ventured forth anyway. The thought of leaving Agnes Coffey’s pet niffler to roam here and get killed made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t sit by and let it be. She couldn’t.

She had managed to find the niffler, Rococo, but getting back out alive was starting to feel impossible. There were traps everywhere, and she didn’t know how to cast disillusionment on anything else other than herself. Rococo would give her away to the surrounding dark wizards for certain.

As she stood there, hiding herself and cradling the niffler in her arms, her hope slipped away every time she peeked around the corner. Each time it seemed like the amount of dark wizards lurking around went up. She let herself panic, but she didn’t let herself cry.

She startled when she started to hear spell blasts. Hearing the alarm in the dark wizards’ voices as they started casting spells back, Matilda held tight to the niffler and slid down the wall she was leaning against. She was finally starting to feel like the child she was.

She needed to get out of there, she needed her father. He could save her, he always had. She squeezed her eyes shut and closed out the world around her, the tears started to come then.

Because her fear had taken over, she didn’t even notice when everything went quiet. She continued to hold tight to the whining niffler and keep her eyes closed when you approached.

“Matilda? Matilda, it’s me. Everything’s alright now. Come with me, dear.” You knelt to her level and spoke in a hushed tone.

She slowly looked up hearing your voice, her eyes widening. Letting herself sob then, she threw an arm around you while still holding tight to the niffler.

She threw you off balance slightly but you kept upright and held her back. “I got you.” You soothed and slowly brought both of you to your feet. “Let’s get going.” You pulled back, keeping a hold on her shoulders. You looked into her eyes, trying to get her steady again. “I need that Gryffindor bravery, alright?” You gave her a reassuring smile.

She wiped at her eyes quickly and gave you a firm nod. “A - Alright.”

The two of you moved forward out of Henrietta’s Hideaway. You tried to remember what the trap mechanisms looked like when you were there back in your school days. Dark Wizards you could handle. Nearly invisible traps? Those could sneak up on anyone.

You and Matilda caught sight of the entrance and she was immediately filled with optimism and relief. “There!” She shouted and began sprinting.

“Matilda, slow down!” You called, keeping up with her as best you could.

You caught it at the last second. The tile Matilda stepped on made a clicking sound, and sank just slightly under the pressure of her foot.

“Matilda!” You shouted and shoved her out of the way. You weren’t sure what the trap being set off would do, but something moved into your abdomen, a strong pressure hitting you immediately. It didn’t hurt at first, but it had a solid hold on you. You couldn’t move. Then whatever was in your abdomen slipped out, the blood and the pain started to come. It was a spike, triggered by the plate Matilda had stepped on.

The realization started to kick in then. You did your best to keep your breathing even and not scare Matilda. This was it. This was the misstep that got you, wasn’t it? You could feel it. You weren’t going to be alive after today.

“Matilda.” You began as calmly as you could. “Go… Go get your father. He can help me, he’ll know what to do.” You sat down on the ground, clutching your stomach, slowing the bleeding to buy yourself time. “Watch your step as you go.”

Matilda was scared seeing your wound bleeding as harshly as it was, but she was able to stand strong at your handling of it. You were her hero after all. Of course you could handle something like this, no problem. She nodded her head vigorously and ran out.

You tried to keep your breathing even, last long enough to see Garreth one last time.

“Dad!” Matilda burst through the shop door. Garreth caught her panic in an instant and didn’t hesitate to run up to her. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he looked her over quickly, ignoring the niffler in her arms.

“What is it?! What’s wrong?!” He cupped her cheek when he noticed some of the scrapes on her face. “Let me get a wiggenweld.” He turned to get it but she grabbed his wrist.

“No time! It’s Professor Y/N. I - I was at Henrietta’s Hideaway and she helped get me out of there. She saved me from a trap but she’s hurt, dad. She - She said to get you. Said you’d be able to help.”

Garreth’s eyes widened, nostrils flaring. Henrietta’s Hideaway? “What in Merlin’s name were you doing all the way out there?!” Not waiting for her answer, he ran for the door. “Wiggenweld! Now!” He snapped before he was out of sight and at the nearest floo flame. As soon as he returned with you, he’d give Matilda an earful.

Garreth called your name as he carefully stepped into the hideaway. It had been so long since the two of you had explored there. He had no doubt it was still as dangerous as it was back then, the both of you had barely made it out in one piece even with how capable the two of you were.

He heard you cough. He turned your direction and his heart dropped at the sight.

You were sitting on the ground in a pool of blood, back up against a rock, hand clutched over your abdomen attempting to stop the bleeding. Garreth strode up and knelt before you. “We have to get you out of here.” He swallowed thickly once he got a closer look at the wound and noticed the loss of color in your skin. A sickening thought took hold of him.

Are you dying?

“No, I -” You hissed in pain. “I’m not going to make it out of here, Gar.”

He had never heard your voice so weak, dread started to set in. No, you’re not dying. You survive everything. You can’t die. “We’ve got to try. I can carry you.”

He wanted to scream when you only shook your head at him. “Be with me.” You reached for his hand.

His nostrils flared, his breathing starting to come out uneven as he tried to shove the panic down. “I’m getting you to St. Mungo’s.” As carefully as he could, he attempted to lift you. But your cries of pain stopped him. He shifted just enough so he was on the ground with you, holding you in his arms, your blood coating his clothes. The helplessness he felt was crippling.

“Tell me what to do.” He pleaded. “You always have a plan. Tell me what I need to do.” Garreth was crumbling, the pieces of him falling too quickly to catch.

You rested your head against his chest and looked up at him as he looked around the cave frantically. “Be with me. Please, Gar.”

He shook his head. “I just got you back.” His voice cracked, his throat constricting. “Please… Please don’t leave me. I can’t do it. I can’t lose you again.”

You weakly reached up and tugged at your necklace. “You never lost me.”

Garreth looked down at the ring he gave you and the tears stung at his eyes, ready to fall. You let go of the necklace and cupped his cheek, looking at him with so much love, he didn’t feel worthy of any of it.

He reached up and held your hand against his cheek. “You saved my girl.” He whispered, more grateful than you’d ever know.

“You know me. Always have to be the hero.” You quipped, your voice so weak it nearly came out as a wheeze. “I wish we met in first year.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, nodding his head, tears falling.

“It was always you, Gar.”

He shifted you in his arms, holding you tighter. “And it was always you.”

“You and me.” You smiled, your voice getting quieter.

“You and me.”

As you looked up at him and he looked back down at you, you seemed to stop breathing, seemed to go perfectly still. He said your name, but no response. He said it one more time, waiting for something, anything at all. But nothing.

He pulled you up more against him, resting his cheek against the top of your head, and let the rest of the tears come.

Come back to me.

The day of your funeral, he’d barely been able to speak, his voice would betray him each time. Nobody expected him to speak much anyway. After all, who was he to you? He wasn’t blood, he wasn’t your husband. At most he was an old friend, as far as everyone knew. No one would ever know what he truly was to you, would they? If he thought he felt loss when you left him all those years ago, it was nothing compared to what he felt then.

You were gone, for good this time. The permanence of it made his chest ache with an unbearable emptiness. It seemed every breath he took, he needed to guide himself through it. In, out. In, out. In, out.

Even after everyone left, he remained with your grave. As he stood there, looking down at your tombstone, he realized this was all he could have with you for the rest of his life.

He tried to think about your smile, your laugh, picture you there still with him. But as soon as he’d fall into the memory, a little voice in the back of his head reminded him it wasn’t real. Then your laugh in his head went silent, and he’d be brought back to reality in front of your tombstone.

Someone had walked up and looked down at your grave with him. “Seems I’m late.”

Garreth glanced up briefly and saw Sebastian Sallow beside him, looking down uneasily. “Afraid so.”

He had never liked Sallow. The lad would be fine in Garreth’s eyes if he hadn’t been so hopelessly in love with you back at Hogwarts. He had been sane before you showed up, but as soon as you arrived, something about you drove the poor fool mad. He had to stop him from following you around and begging you to reconsider your rejection too many times to count.

“Merlin, this can’t be real. She was supposed to outlive us all.” He whispered in disbelief. “When was the last time you spoke to her?”

Garreth blinked away the memory, trying to get the image of your bloody, lifeless form in his arms out of his head. “Not long before she passed. You?”

“I’d say about five years ago. Last I saw her, she was walking out my door, breaking my heart once again.”

Garreth wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer, but he asked anyway. “You two…?”

Sebastian glanced up at him, then looked back down with a shake of his head. “Not really. I mean we tried for a while. But she was never able to love me like I loved her.” Sebastian let out a shaky sigh. “Untameable that one.”

Garreth could only nod his head. That you were.

“I really thought I had a chance after you.” Sebastian huffed humorlessly. “But if it wasn’t going to be you, I don’t think it was going to be anybody.”

Garreth swallowed the lump in his throat and knew it was time to be alone. He gave Sebastian’s shoulder a cordial pat as he passed. “Good seeing you again, Sallow.”

Garreth sat before the fire, and let himself wallow in his own whiskey fueled pity. How many times had he let you down throughout knowing each other? How many times had he failed you when you two were right on track to live happily ever after?

There was nothing he could do now, was there? The only thing left to do was mourn. So he thought back on his life with you again. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could see you again in his dreams tonight.

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley smut #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley imagine #garreth weasley angst #weasley wednesday

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its-in-the-woods · 15 days

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole Chapter 9

Chapter one here, two here, three here, four here , five here, six here, seven here, eight here,

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/Warning: As always minor get out. Like why are you even here leave. Hurt/comfort, makeup sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, fluff, and more fluff. Older man younger woman, P in V, biting, marking, possesivness, slight sub/dom if you squint. Sex on a table, Cum eating,

Synopsis: Working in film as a make-up artist is hard enough, but then Walton Goggins requests you, well it's way too easy to fall down the rabbit hole.

Note: they are both single, all for fun.

I think I may have an ending now. Posts will continue to be 2-3k long. Every other day more than likely. The whole fic will be around 30k words. (Idk things may have gone off the rails and I may be currently rewriting the entire end of this series.)

The day went by relatively quickly, you were grateful that it had ended on time for a change. Sans any fires. You wanted to be home with a bottle of wine and some terrible horror movies. Maybe you’d grab something to eat on the way home. The realization that you were hungry and that the rock in your gut wasn’t so heavy was pleasant. You felt lighter, things weren’t back to normal, but the sting of anger and sadness was lessened. The need to talk to him was lingering. Not sure exactly what you wanted, maybe an apology, but no that wasn’t right. It was an accident. Or was it? You wanted it desperately for it to have been an accident. Mind lingering on Friday, the way he cares for you. The way you craved to hear this voice again. To bury your face against him. You are standing at your car, mind breaking away from your daydream. Unlocking your vehicle you open the car door to flop in when you see Trevor strolling towards you. Part of you wanted to get in and drive away, but instead, you leaned against the car hood. He deserved at least some answers you suppose.

“So should I come over to your place?” Trevor stated his face screwed up with worry. “We can get ice cream, maybe some vodka, rope, duct tape, a shovel.”

You can’t help the smile that comes across your face, “We won’t need any of those just yet.”

Trevor crossed his arms, lips pinched in a tight line as he looked you up and down. “Oh? Did you finally hear from Mister Ghosty”

“Trevor!” You smack his shoulder, trying to come off more teasing but he looks hurt, “He forgot his phone at his place.”

Trevor’s eyes narrowed, “Oh sure." He says dragging the last word, "So how did you find that out? He isn’t supposed to be back here till tomorrow.”

“Leonard pulled me aside at lunch. He told me that Walton had forgotten his phone and was very upset that he couldn’t get a hold of me.”

“Do you believe him?” Trevor had relaxed, but the lines around his mouth still spoke of worry.

You shrug and it was the only real reaction you had. You didn’t have answers, maybe he had roped Leonard into his ploy, maybe he did forget his phone, maybe. There were a whole lot of maybes and not any answers. Until you could see his face you wouldn't really know. Part of you hated how much you wanted to see him.

Trevor stomped a little hands balled up, “That is some actor bullshit right there, but he is prone to leaving his stuff around,” He took a few deep breaths, “I really hope he isn’t jerking you around, cause I do not want to go to prison.”

You sigh, “I don’t know anymore. Maybe this isn’t supposed to be. Like how am I going to cope when the show finishes? He’s going to go back to LA, or wherever.”

“Don’t give up hon,” Trevor says rubbing your arms. “I know this is hard. But I've seen how upset you are over this. You really like the guy and maybe it won’t work, but maybe it will.”

Your phone buzzes and you pull it out of your back pocket, Goggins’ name goes across the screen. Looking up at Trevor, you can see his surprise. You watch the name flash up a few times, your hand resting beside where you had put it on the car. Heart hammering against your ribs, what would be on the other side of the screen?

“Before you open that. I am still willing to find a hole to bury him in” Trevor jokes, a small grin spreading across his face. The tension in him had lifted a bit, maybe things would be okay.

You hit him hard enough for him to say ow. “No mention of body holes. Not yet anyway.”

Your phone is now ringing, Walton’s number popping up on the screen. You briefly wonder if you should just hang it up and leave it. It could wait till tomorrow-

“If you don’t answer the phone, I am going to,” Trevor states his hands twitching, almost grabbing the phone from where you had sat it on the hood of the car.

Snatching it from his grasp you pick it up and answer, “Hey Walton.” You shoo at Trevor who puts his hands up and walks away. The bastard still stayed within earshot.

“Hey,” He says your name into the phone, “I am so sorry. I forgot my phone. I know that is a poor excuse, but I couldn’t remember your number. Smartphones are making me dumb, I remember when I could remember any number. When I see you tonight I will give you my agent's number so you can get a hold of me.”

“It’s okay,” You say turning away to give yourself space from your nosey friend. Cheeks already flushed pink listening to him ramble on about taping his phone to his hand so it never went missing again.

“No, no it’s not okay. I just left you there, then you didn’t hear from me for almost three days. It’s the furthest thing from okay.” He sounds upset, his words muttering together as he tries to explain himself

A small laugh escapes you, “Walton. No. Stop. Listen. Listen to me for a second, you’ve been on a wild few days. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“No. No way. You listen. I am coming over to your place. I want to make it up to you,” He says and you can hear how earnest he is, you bite and worry at your lip.

“Walton my place. Is-” You want to yank at your hair but instead let your free handball up, “It’s just a shoe box. You don’t need to come over.” Your mind plays over his lavish space, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of downtown. The apartment you live in is just that, a shoe box, with leaking windows and a view of concrete walls and half-dead trees.

“This one of the few times I am not going to accept no from you.” He states firmly, his voice and tone changing ever so slightly. You feel your breath catch in your throat. The finality of the words makes your stomach do flips.

“Okay,” You say quietly, trying not to let on how much you liked to hear him take charge. “I should be home in twenty minutes.”

“I will be waiting.” He says in a hushed tone, his voice laced with promises that you were eager to see fulfilled.

Your face is blazing red as you turn back to Trevor. He turns his head, hands out in a question.

“Umm-” You try not to be excited but of course you are. “He’s going to meet me at my place. Says he wants to make it up to me.”

Trevor grins, “Oh the makeup sex is going to be amazing!”

You cover your face, and let out a small squeak, “Could you be any louder? Trevor.”

He covers his mouth, “Whoops?”

***

You drive home, faster than you should. But damn it all you were not going to keep him waiting. You also wanted to smack him upside the head, you had been a damn trainwreck. How had you been a trainwreck after two dates? Then again how were you also this excited? Your face still flustered, hearing him commanding you to come to him, that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. The knowing that if you had pushed it he would have relented. Your stomach flips the same way it did when you first kissed him. You were head over heels, ass over tea kettle for this man. Finally, you turn down your street and you have to calm yourself when you see his vehicle parked a few cars down. Parking your own, you turn off the car and take several breaths before grabbing your stuff and getting out.

Walton is leaning against his car, and you hate how relaxed he always looks. He’s moving as soon as he sees you, and you're trying not to make this like some romance movie but you want to run towards him. You dump your stuff on the sidewalk and run to him. Fuck what anyone thinks right now. He comes at the same speed, two of you collide in arms and bodies. You wrap yourself around the stupid man, your stupid man. Holding him against you, you didn’t want to let him go. He held you just as close pressing your head against his chest.

“I hate you,” You mutter into his jacket, trying to feel his warmth but there are too many layers. Hands slipped under his clothes to touch his skin.

You can feel him grinning against your cheek, “Missed you too, sweetie.”

You pulled back and glared at him, “You forgot your phone?”

Walton bites his lip, pulling out his phone from his pocket. “I have it now?”

You groan and grab his jacket pulling him against you, “I still hate you.” You smile pressing a kiss against him. One of his hands finds your waist the other holding your face, you lean into it dragging his lip into your mouth.

“I think we should go in,” Walton mumbles leaning his forehead against yours, your heartbeat pounding against your ears.

“You want to come up?” You tease and he kisses you again.

“Oh I want to do a lot of things,” He nips at your lip before turning back to his vehicle. You walk back down the sidewalk grabbing your purse and jacket. Walton is standing at the walkway leading to your apartment, arm full of sunflowers and a bottle of wine in hand. You walk back towards him, and you can’t help the grin on your face.

“The flowers are beautiful,” You say and he hands them to you, taking your jacket and purse.

“Not as beautiful as you,” He says kissing your cheek, and there you are flushed and happy. It was so easy to fall back into it, to feel how much he wanted to be near you.

The two of you walk into the building, and you comment about there being no elevator. Walton doesn’t seem to mind, and you both walk up the three flights. His hand is placed on your lower back as you ascend.

“How was LA?” You ask, you didn’t want to talk about LA but maybe it be enough to distract from the fact your hallway smelled of old smoke and cat pee.

“It was warm and busy. I love talking about my work. But I also like to have time to myself.” He says as you come up to your door, his eyes always following yours.

“Yet hear you are with me.” You mumble trying not to let the doubt seep into your mind as you push the wooden door into your space.

Walton places your purse on the table, and wine on the counter. You dig out a glass jug to stick the flowers in fussying over them for a minute. You can feel him watching you, turning over your shoulder to see him leaning against your table. Fingers gripping the edges as his dark eyes follow your movements. You finish with the flowers placing them on the table beside him. He is still following you, he looks almost hungry. You stand in front of him, you want him out of that jacket. He pushes himself off the table and moves towards you, the man is all fluid grace and quickness. Hand grabbing at your hip while the other comes up to cup your face. Pulling you so you're flush against him, you feel the air leave out of your lungs. He tilts your head up to look at him.

“All I wanted to do was be -” He squeezed your hip, “right here.” He leans in and kisses you, “with you.”

You flush leaning back up to kiss him again. Part of you hates how easy it is, hates how much you’ve fallen for him. But it would be a cold day in hell before you stopped kissing him. The two of you stand there twisted around each other your lips pushing eagerly against each other. Tongues are tasting and feeling. You feel dizzy and lightheaded. The smell of vanilla and coffee makes you want to crawl under his skin. He breaks away kissing your forehead.

“Should I open the wine?” He asks, you don’t want wine you just want him.

“As much as I want wine,” You say quietly leaning against him lips trailing down his neck. You can feel him shiver as you whisper. “I’d much prefer to have you.”

You pull away and his eyes have darkened, that crooked grin on his face. His hand squeezes your hips, pressing you closer to him you can feel him through his clothes. Moving your fingers grab the zipper of his jacket pulling it down, and at the same time his fingers fumble at the hem of your shirt.

The jacket falls to the floor pretty soon after you shirt, he pulls back moving the flowers onto the counter. He turns back around and lifts you onto the table. Pulling his shirt off of him, you make grabby hands and he obliges. Your hands run over his warm body, tracing the lines of muscles of his back. He growls taking your face in his hands and kissing you so deep, his tongue diving in. The taste of smoke and coffee makes you shiver.

“I missed you,” He whispers, legs pushing yours apart. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You kiss along his jaw, “I wanted to slap you when I saw you.” The honest words sting as they come out, but they are there on the table now.

Walton leans back, eyes moving across your face, “I would have deserved it.” He raises his hand to brush back stray hair from your face. “This, I don’t want this to end.” His words are so gentle, yet the last thing you want is gentleness.

You bit your lip, regretting mentioning it. “I don’t want this to end either. I know -” You pause, “I know your life is complicated, busy, and demanding. But I want to try and make it work.”

He places a hand on either side of you, his hazel eyes looking into yours. “You want to call it what it is?”

You swallow but keep your eyes on him, a million thoughts running rampant through your head, “A relationship, dating?”

Walton breaks eye contact with you a chuckle escaping. He looks back a grin on his face, that stupid face that made your heart pound. “Yeah, a relationship. I know the kids nowadays," His dark eyes follow the way you lick your lips, "don’t like to put labels on things. But I am partial to the old-school ways.”

You grin back, “Well, I am pretty fond of your old-school ways.” You wrap your arms around his neck. FIngers ruffling at the hair on the back of his neck, you are trying your damnest to not just pull him into you.

“Oh really now, and here I was thinking you just wanted to look at me shirtless.”

You let your eyes rove over his body, making sure he was watching you, “If you never wear a shirt again it be okay with me.”

He leans in and pushes you down onto the table, the press of his body against yours making you shiver. He’s working your pants down and like hell are you going to be the only one pantsless this time. You get his belt off, but he’s lifting your hips and sliding yours down. He leans back undoing his buttons and slipping them off his narrow hips. His cock bouncing against his lower stomach. You wiggle yourself down to the edge of the table. Reaching to pull him towards you, he’s catching your lips with his. Breath comes out in short bursts as he slides into you.

You let out a low keen, biting at his lips as you wrap yourself around him. He slides all the way in still for a second, the stretch feels so good as if he was made to fit inside you. Pushing your hips up. “Please.” You whimper, his hands holding you against the table.

Walton didn’t need any more incentive, one arm wrapped around your back and another pressing your head into his. Hips pumping into you, slow steady rhythm, feeling him pull in and out. Dragging at your walls, you hold on moving with him. His teeth run along your neck and down your shoulder. His lips worked over the same marks he left before, worrying the skin back into that sore red color. Nails digging into his back as his hips start moving quicker. You whimper, the pace building heat, you move your hand between both of you to rub at your aching clit. You can feel yourself clamp down around him.

“Fuck,” He growls, moving his head down to suck the top of your breast.

You do it again, rubbing at the sensitive bud, making your inside clench and squeeze. “So close,” You whimper, the speed at which he is fucking you increasing the table underneath you squeaking as you hold onto him. Part of you wondering if the thing will break with the force. Heat builds and you’re so close, you whine and he lifts you slightly changing the angle.

“Oh fuck yes,” You cry out, the change stimulating you just right, you tilt your head back and he is on your throat. Tongue licking and teeth scratching moving right between your breast. He sucks and then bites right there. Your body convulsing as you come. He pulls out and you are trying to get him back in. But he holds you down his hand working at his swollen cock. You let out a moan as he spurts come onto your stomach, your name on his lips as he finishes, eyes rolling as he keeps going until it’s too much. The fucking hottest thing you’ve seen, watching him come unglued.

Eyes open he smirks at you before reaching for some paper towel. You wait until he’s turned around to dip your fingers into his cum and lick it off them. It’s salt and slightly sweet, overall not too bad.

“Jesus,” He groans nearly dropping the paper as he stumbles over to you. You grin and repeat it until it’s gone. Walton’s mouth was slightly open as he watched you clean yourself up.

“You are gonna kill me one day,” He chuckles, coming over to give you lazy kisses.

The next couple of hours are spent naked, kissing, touching, and finding any suitable flat surface to make you both cry out. Eventually ending up in your bed, it’s a small twin but with both of you wrapped around each other it doesn’t matter. The rain has started and you can hear it taping on the old windows.

*I can't believe we are nine chapters in *

Chapter ten

#walton goggins #fanfic #writing #writer #x reader #2nd person pov #walton goggins x you #walton goggins x reader #fluff #hurt/comfort #makeup sex

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