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ghostlyfleur · 9 months

Text

𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡.

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: the sweet progression of steve and his pretty girl’s relationship.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, idiots in love, oblivious!reader, shy!reader, inexperienced!reader. pet names (angel, baby, flower girl, pretty girl, princess, sweet girl). 18+ mdni, smut-adjacent. world building.

word count: ~4.5k

pre-relationship—

steve’s girl friend is a soft spoken, remarkably sweet, gentle soul. she’s shy, way too anxious, so inexperienced that she comes off as innocent. her wardrobe consists of flowy skirts and flowery dresses and soft sweaters and cozy knits, puts flowers in her hairdos like interwoven in braids or tucked in a half-up half-down mess, has this ethereal vibe to the makeup she likes to wear (ie. shimmery eyeshadow in soft colors, highlighter, sparkly lipgloss, white waterline pencil, fairy wing eyeliner designs, and slightly blushy cheeks), wears silver wire-framed glasses at home when not using contacts and steve thinks it brings out her gorgeous eyes even more. she always wears pretty dangly earrings with flowers, her nails painted with glitter nail polish or neutral soft colors, and steve thinks she’s an angel.

the rest of the people in town mostly think her to be weird and unapproachable, with the way she stops mid walk to crouch down and whisper softly to a ladybug she sees on the sidewalk, or when she accidentally bumps into a street pole and yells out a panicked ‘sorry!’ as if she would hear a reply back.

when steve first met his girl, he was enchanted.

she was so soft and beautiful and kind, but also very anxious; something he noticed the first time she walked into scoops ahoy, and steve was so excited to finally talk to the pretty girl that started working at the flower shop down the block that he’s been pining for. the pretty girl’s reaction to his flirting however was of shyness, nervousness, and seemingly scared silence… so steve decided to make a fool out of himself just to see her smile. it was worth it. steve felt as if her laughter was the equivalent of the skies opening up to let sunshine peak through dark clouds. they eased their way into each other’s lives after that. his girl started seeking him out, finding comfort and safety in his presence and caregiving personality, though remaining clueless of his feelings and just how much robin teased him for being a smitten fool.

“pretty flower girl” is how steve referred to her at the beginning, all heart eyes and dreamy sighs. working at a flower shop seems to fit her so entirely, like she’s in her own little world while surrounded by flora. she’s able to tell you the meanings, both positive and negative, of any flower imaginable, of different plants too! keeps a log book and a journal to track her flora friends’ growth, pressed flowers and polaroid pictures of different bouquets, photographs each beautiful arrangement she creates in a picture album.

her home is also completely taken over by pots and plants and gardens and hanging vines, secrets whispered to them while she waters her little friends as needed, full conversations kept that seem to make all the plants bloom and flourish even more. lots of natural light comes in from the many windows of her cabin, surrounded by greenery and trees and a small pond that wild animals often visit, knowing her safe haven is also a safe haven for any animals. the place always smells like whatever she’s baking, the decor homey and filled with crystals and incense and hand painted mugs and vases. greens, yellows, oranges, and tan colors. books balanced on any available surface.

she becomes steve’s girl best friend, and he loves her so much. worships her, really. steve makes it his mission to spoil and love his pretty girl, even if he hides it behind silly flirting and the pretense of friendship.

whenever they’re together, steve and his girl are all the other sees. the gang has a little bet on who will break first, steve or his flower girl.

her sit is always his lap.

steve swears off other girls as soon as he meets her.

he is very affectionate towards her, and she loves to kiss his cheeks.

they often have sleepovers just the two of them.

they’re so close they can just exist together and be at peace.

she’s so supportive of him too, always praising him and hyping him up.

steve is overprotective of her.

whenever one goes the other sure follows.

see, steve’s girl is so sweet on him it drives robin crazy. because robin knows the feelings are reciprocated, but she also knows both steve and his girl enough to know she needs to let them figure this out by themselves. it doesn’t mean robin isn’t their number one fan, though.

steve’s pretty girl bakes him sweets often to bring to him at work to “make your day a little easier, stevie”, she brings him flowers from her job that steve learns to preserve in his room, she gives him her favorite ring that he never takes off. but steve also does little things for his sweet girl— takes care of her and buys her chocolate because it makes her so happy and giddy he falls a little more in love each time. he also reminds her to drink water, buys her favorite snacks for movie night or when she’s on her period, takes her to the movies, drives her everywhere (because she’s his pretty passenger princess) to have some extra time with her.

oh! steve’s girl also has a bunch of homemade gifts that she keeps in a small glass trunk in her home because she’s too shy to give them to her stevie— handmade bracelets, handmade wire rings, pretty things she finds at thrift stores that remind her of her pretty boy, handmade necklaces, small gifts with pressed flowers, letters she writes down because she feels so deeply for her sweet boy that she needs to let it out somehow, and a bunch of other small gifts that she hopes one day she can give to her stevie to show him how much she loves him.

she’s so lovely to her stevie without even realizing, though. she’s demiromantic, you see, and after becoming friends with steve she started to slowly fall for him. the thing is, she knew very well what was happening, she’s very in tune to her emotions, and she fell for him willingly! whereas steve fell for her fast and kept falling.

imagine his girl never had her first kiss… she’s so inexperienced and her sweet persona and gentle demeanor make her seem like the softest person ever. steve is so mesmerized by her.

he flirts with her and is sweet to her and devotes his time to her and spoils her rotten and gives her kisses and hugs and cuddles and all the love he has to give— steve quickly decided that even if they’re ‘just friends’ he’ll still treat her like his princess, give her everything he can and shower her in his adoration until she catches up. and even then, even when it’s so obvious that steve is in love with her, that he blushes and stutters and gets flustered only for her, that he shows her every day just how much he loves her, she remains oblivious.

in her pov, she knows she’s in love with her stevie so she’s going to treat him like the most precious person in her world. which he is. the thing is that she gives him all of her love without ever once considering that he might return it, even as he flirts and quite literally says he’s hers and she’s his all the time, it never even crosses her mind to actually believe it. maybe because she’s trying to protect herself from heartbreak. she just decides that her stevie deserves the world so she’s going to give him all she can.

but she’s so soft with him! holds his face between her hands when talking to him sometimes like she’s holding her whole world on her hands, presses kisses to his cheeks all the time, gives him hugs. she always compliments him, isn’t afraid of telling him exactly what’s on her mind…

“you look so pretty, stevie”

“i’m so proud of you.”

“i missed you lots today!”

“i saw this cute puppy and it reminded me of you ‘cause you’re just as cute!”

“i always prefer your company.”

flower girl is the most adorable sight steve has ever seen! she pouts so prettily whenever she doesn’t get the attention she wants from him, all soft lips and furrowed brows and plush cheeks crossed arms, and steve just wants to pepper kisses all over her face.

her love languages:

she bakes him cookies ; buys him things that remind her of her stevie ; plans these cute little “friend” outings that feel more like dates ; she’s never lacking in her affections though she’s very timid and shy when it happens ; will defend him no matter what ; makes sure to always praise him ; she gets all cranky if someone insults him even playfully ; she’s very shy so she often hides her face on his chest or neck and it makes his heart flutter ; she helps him babysit bc the kids love her ; she gave her stevie a special arrangement of flowers that she created just for him plus a little booklet of pictures of the two of them together that also had pressed flowers on it for his birthday ; she checks in with him every day even if they don’t see each other to make sure her stevie is doing okay ; will stay on the phone with him all night especially if he had a nightmare or a fight with his parents.

where steve’s best friend is all cute and pouty and sweet and clingy and loving but only to her stevie!!!!! and she’s a bit ditzy— talks to animals and plants and inanimate objects like they can answer her, her thoughts jump from one thing to another but steve always entertains her, she skips instead of waking a lot, she dresses all cute and coquette and always has glitter on her somewhere, she gives steve handmade gifts all the time with this shy little smile and blushing and sometimes when the gift is specially meaningful she’ll run away as soon as he accepts it 🥺 she trips over her own feet a lot too!!! so steve has to grip her waist to help her find her footing!!! and it makes her break out in goosebumps!!! and steve is so in love with her, with her ramblings and midnight ice cream cravings and true crime rants and the way she talks about murder and psychopath profiling and laughs at horror movies and has crystals and tarot cards and wants to befriend ghosts, how she gives her stevie little glass bottles with protection spells or anti-anxiety spells or how she always needs to hear his voice before bed.

and she’s so pretty and soft and kind and nice and laughs a lot and everyone loves her— but she never notices how so many people flirt with her, and never notices whenever steve scares possible suitors away, because really she only sees steve!!!!!! and it makes him crazy to see how she blatantly ignores anyone and everyone to focus on him!!!!!

but then one day steve’s girl starts feeling sad and heartbroken because she’s convinced herself that steve still loves nancy so she starts pulling away a little and steve doesn’t understand what he did wrong! robin has to spell it out for him that his girl thinks he still wants nancy when that couldn’t be further from the truth; steve now knows he’s never truly been in love before, not like he is with his angel, and that it was his angel that showed him he deserves someone who loves him just as much as he loves them. therefore, steve does his best to find ways to tell his girl that nancy is in the past, that she has nothing to worry about, but he has to do so while him and his angel aren’t together yet so he slowly breached the subject until he can figure out where his girl stands, if he can make a move, if she’s interested in him too, y’know? like those conversations filled with a deeper meaning and both parties trying to drop hints about their feelings but they’re still too hesitant to be more clear in their affections. for now.

imagine steve spoiling her and making her all giddy and happy and shy and giggly :( i want steve to treat his baby like royalty way before they even get together :( i wanna read about their first kiss and how it makes steve’s knees buckle and how she’s so giggly because it’s her first kiss and he tells her he wants to marry her right then and there and she tells him she never ever would consider being with anyone but her stevie :(

after they get together—

their first kiss happens in what steve considers to be the best night of his life to date.

it was halloween, and he was slightly nervous about going to the fair with not only the kids and robin and eddie, but his girl too. the year before, he stayed in with his angel and robin watching movies and eating junk, which was the perfect night ‘cause he got to cuddle his girl, but last halloween he went out to celebrate didn’t end up being very enjoyable for him… what with having your now-ex call you bulshit, bullshit, bullshit.

however, this is his girl he’s talking about. while it wasn’t a date, simply a hangout with their friend group, steve still considers his girl, well… his. and the fact she insisted on meeting them there herself had him slightly on edge.

she was dressed as a fairy.

steve has never seen anyone as pretty, as mesmerizing. and the way she treated this night, treated him, was driving steve crazy.

first, once she meets everyone at the entrance of the amusement park they agreed to go to, she insists on paying for both herself and steve. literally grabs steve’s wallet from his hand and only gives it back after she pays.

he, of course, only really allows it because she gives him her — in steve’s opinion illegal — pouty puppy eyes that she knows steve can’t say no to.

afterwards, once they all enter and the kids disperse to the various entertainment with the agreement of meeting up later to eat, steve’s girl drags him away from robin and eddie, who were both sporting knowing grins, to a shooting booth where she proceeds to win, suspiciously easily might he add, a stuffed frog for him.

and then she grabs his hand. albeit hesitantly, but she does. intertwining their fingers and everything.

the entire night was a dream for steve, and unbeknownst to him, for his girl too. she had a plan, you see. his angel was pulling out all the stops, even if she was shy and blushy the whole time— paying for the tickets for both of them was number one. followed by winning steve a stuffed animal, holding his hand, sharing fried oreos and cotton candy (again, paid by her), and going to the photobooth. the ferris wheel would be last, but it’s what happens inside the photobooth that matters.

once inside, steve made sure she was sat on his lap. she payed again. the pictures go a little something like this:

1st pic steve is laughing and she’s looking at him like he’s her dream come true which he is / 2nd pic she pushes forward not being able to wait any longer and quickly presses her lips to his a bit messily / 3rd pic is her looking all flustered and shy and doe-eyed while steve has this dazed look in his eyes and his jaw is dropped / 4th pic is steve grabbing her cheeks and kissing her fully, brows furrowed and all.

steve steals another kiss at the top of the ferris wheel, it was giggling and smiling more than kissing, though.

on the drive home, angel makes a stop at their self-assigned star gazing spot where she officially asks steve to be her boyfriend, all flustered and timid but oh so hopeful. another kiss, a resounding “yes” from her sweet boy, and dropping him off with a quick goodnight kiss ends the night, and steve has never been happier.

the fact she planned this whole night, took a chance, romanced the hell out of him, and was so genuine the whole time, looking to make him smile, just because, had steve on a high unlike any other. no one has ever taken the time to spoil him, to do romantic things for him. he’s not used to reciprocity in relationships, but here this angel is professing her love for him and not only saying it but showing him she means it. best night of his life.

and so their relationship begins.

steve harrington just worships his girl, spoils her continuously, and wants to do everything for her. he is overly affectionate and just obsessed with his baby, pictures of her and with her everywhere on his house, his car, his wallet, maybe even a locket he wears with a copy of the picture of their first kiss on it. steve took the photobooth strip and got the second picture, his angel kissing him for the first time, copied and altered to fit into the locket.

everyone in town just knows steve is entirely whipped and he does not care. he is definitely touch starved for his girl, quite a bit jealous, however, but trusts her so much that it just comes out as a sort of possessiveness that isn’t toxic but something both he and, secretly, his angel enjoy. steve always praises her and wants to take care of her because she’s his sweet little angel girl.

steve is also her first everything— first kiss, first date, first boyfriend, first time… and it drives him insane! something about knowing he’s the only one that’s ever had her and the only one she’s ever wanted just drives him up the wall and gets him so needy. so desperate. so whiney and pouty.

something else about steve as a boyfriend is that he’s his angel’s biggest fan — always praising, always encouraging, always in awe of her. will brag about his baby to anyone. randomly brings her up in conversation because she’s all he thinks about and he’s so proud to be hers.

buying her flowers whenever he can so she’ll give him this wide, square smile of hers that takes over her whole face like she can’t control it and her nose scrunches up a bit and he never wants to look at anything but her.

her stevie is really into pda too, can’t take his hands off of her, but nothing extreme; casual touches and pecks on her nose or temple or lips or cheeks, buries his face in her neck often, hand holding constantly!!!!!!, plays with her hair, is always playing with the delicate ‘s’ pendant on her neck that he gifted her and she never takes off (steve has this proud little smile whenever he messes with it).

then there’s the casual dominance— steve tucks her hair behind her ears, ties her shoelaces for her, adjusts the clasp of her necklace, puts her dainty jewelry on for her, braids her hair because she’s always clumsy with it and she prefers his braids over hers, gives her water so she stays hydrated, remembers her meds for her, adjusts her beanie on her hair when it’s cold and she’s wearing one, wipes chocolate from the corner of her mouth because his baby is a messy eater, pulls on her waist when they’re walking so she doesn’t bump into someone or something because she’s too busy talking and looking at him, spoon feeds her when she’s too tired and sleepy and pouty, brushes her teeth for her too when she’s being his cute little tired baby or is in subspace, brushing her hair and treating her like a little doll, his little doll, and loves to shower with her so he can do it for her, loves to drive her everywhere too. she’s his pretty passenger princess and they both take that role very seriously.

and whenever his pretty baby gets all glassy eyed and needy and blushy for him? he melts.

steve has a daddy kink. major one. and when he finally finds his baby, his person, he starts noticing things she might be into for the sole reason of wanting to be the absolute best he can be for his baby. the thing is, he knows she’s entirely new to this and still a bit nervous and hesitant and shy, so he starts by filing things away in his brain to make sure once she’s ready and the time comes that he can treat her perfectly, and give her everything and anything she wants.

his baby is probably a sub, she must be, with how pliable and soft she gets. for sure has an oral fixation, always giving him little kisses and little bites randomly and pressing his hand to her lips so she can softly mouth at them (but will shy away and get flustered when she notices she’s doing this) (she just loves his hands and he knows). steve’s girl also gets all flustered and her breath hitches when he jokingly calls himself ‘daddy’, so he takes that as a good sign because there’s nothing steve wants more in this world than to be her daddy. only hers. to spoil and care for and love his baby to the best of his ability.

she also loves when he manhandles her, he’s noticed— it’s just that steve really enjoys carrying his baby around, loves feeling needed and loves holding her and having her body pressed to his and have her hold on to him, but also he just wants to do things for his baby, doesn’t want her to tire herself out, ever!

she doesn’t need to walk around all the time because her stevie’s here and he won’t have his baby do unnecessary work when he’s around. whenever he grabs her waist and places her on top of a counter or something and stands between her legs? she gets all smiley. steve also absolutely loves how clearly his touch affects her; she hums and melts into him and gets a bit breathless and just tries to bury herself into him until they become one. lots of cuddles and hugs from behind and just being entirely wrapped in each other while wearing the coziest sweaters under the cuddliest blanket are common occurrences.

the main thing, though… is how steve’s shy little girlfriend quickly becomes obsessed with his bulge. loves when her stevie hugs her from behind so it presses against her, or when he has her sit between his legs with her back to his chest, or any time where her stevie is holding her close. he doesn’t even need to be hard for her to enjoy it, i mean, he shows through his jeans even when he’s soft! and she just always thinks it looks so…soft? and chubby? and she just wants it smushed against her at all times.

it takes steve a while to figure it out, but when he does? he’s relentless! pressing up against his baby all. the. fucking. time. just to see her blush and stutter and get all shy… but she also fucking sighs and relaxes whenever he does it, like it’s such a comfort for her? to feel all of him? like it’s all she’s waiting for at all times. and it drives steve crazy how his cute, shy, introverted, virgin girlfriend who giggles all the time and is always flustered by him and hiding her hot cheeks with her hands and is so… clumsy and tentative and nervous when it comes to any sort of affection (which she only accepts from her stevie) ((she definitely hates touch except his)) (((and he knows it too! was one of the things that proved to him his pretty best friend had feelings for him too when they were ‘just friends’))) can be so desperate to feel his bulge against her.

angel also loves that her stevie boy has huge hands! absolutely massive. could-wrap-one-hand-around-your-entire-neck massive, beautiful, strong, soft hands.. and yeah, both steve and his girl definitely have huge size kinks. huge. they haven’t said so out loud yet, but it shows through their actions. steve loves how obvious the size difference is when they’re holding hands, or when his hand is on her soft thighs. most of the time his baby holds his fingers instead because it hurts a little bit to intertwine their fingers for too long and steve thinks it’s fucking adorable. she’s shorter too, so 😵‍💫 her sweet boy goes crazy. teasing, best friend steve comes out sometimes too when he uses her head as an armrest to tease her, or when he full on picks her up to take her somewhere if she’s being a brat or is too lazy, too tired to move.

steve’s angel loves their size difference. so much. it shows when she hides herself against his chest when it’s cold, when she compares hand sizes because “stevie, the difference is just insane!”, when steve smushes her into the mattress when they start fucking later on. steve notices his angel blush or sigh or break out in goosebumps whenever his hands are involved— i mean, can you blame her? his hands are so pretty. she’s always holding and touching and tracing her fingertips over his palms and pressing kisses, biting softly, sucking on his fingers when she’s restless, fidgety, or sleepy.

using steve as a weighted blanket is a must; helps angel when she’s anxious or having a bad day.

to be continued…

── harmo’s footnotes:

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masterlist. steve dreams.

2K notes · View notes

dadbodbuck · 2 months

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fine, you've forced my hand!

It’s by some miracle that Buck doesn’t show his hand the instant he turns on the lights to see him sitting in the corner chair of his hotel room.

“They’ve got you in some pretty shitty digs, Evan,” he says, and Buck fights tooth and screaming nail to hold onto his composure. “Nash so low on funds he had to put you up in a crusty motel?”

“Agent 217,” Buck says, hand itching for his comm. He knows better, knows that 217 has his service weapon tucked neatly away in a holster at his side, knows he’d be dead before he could click on to make the call. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Please, call me Tommy,” 217 says with an innocent, dashing grin, even inch the handsome James Bond everyone assumes Buck must be. “You have something I want.”

“Like we’ll ever tell you anything,” Buck scoffs, “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

217—Tommy, and why would he give Buck a name to call him?—stands, and stalks over. “Who says I’m after information?”

Buck swallows, tensing himself for a fight. “So, what, this is a hit? Are you here to gloat?”

Tommy continues walking, appraising Buck where he stands in his unassuming civvies. Jean jacket, cotton tee, khakis, tennis shoes. Compared to Tommy’s government-issued slacks, crisp button-down, and polished shoes, Buck feels a little underdressed. He glances down as Tommy rounds his back and leans forward to whisper. “You were at the boardwalk tonight. I know what Nash is after. Going up against the entire establishment, Evan? That’s a suicide mission.”

And—okay. Contrary to popular belief, being a spy (“Intelligence Agent,” Bobby always insists) doesn’t get him laid all the time. He’s actually been going through a bit of a dry spell, with the recent push towards leaking the project they’d been a part of before they went rogue. They just need a little more information, a little more time. Point being, it’s been a fucking goddamn minute, and 217 is smoking. Curly hair, slate gray eyes that sparkle with dry wit, pearly white smile that is condescending, maybe, but in a way that gets Buck’s dick standing at attention. Broad shoulders, big arms, solid muscle. He could bend Buck completely in half, if he so desired. And God, Buck desires.

“Sorry,” Buck blinks, while Tommy smiles his little Cheshire Cat grin, “What was the question?”

“Oh, I’m not here for questions,” Tommy murmurs, hands slipping over Buck’s hips. “I’ve seen the way you watch me, Evan. You’re not exactly subtle. It’s a wonder Nash still employs you.”

“I’m not hooking up with a fucking Fed,” Buck says, even as he gasps with the way Tommy leans down to mouth at his neck.

“Kinda sounds like you are,” Tommy grins, obnoxiously smug, “Besides, weren’t you a fucking Fed three years ago?”

“People change,” Buck says mindlessly, “Fuck, touch me.”

“As you wish,” Tommy replies, sounding affected for the first time that night. Buck catches a glimpse of them in the standing mirror in the entryway, sees the way Tommy’s eyes are blown dark over his shoulder. Watches his hand snake down his front, gently palm over the (frankly, humiliating) bulge in his pants.

Buck wishes he could say it felt like nothing. It would be so nice to be disappointed by Tommy’s touch, when he hates the guy with a burning passion. Unfortunately for Buck’s pride, it’s electric. Tommy’s hand is firm and warm on his dick, even through the layers of fabric.

“They told me about your reputation,” Tommy breathes, “Told me about Agent Buckley, back in the day, sleeping with marks more often than tailing them.”

Okay, so maybe sometimes being a spy got him laid. “It was very effective,” Buck says defensively, “Got a lot of good intel. Why, you want to see what all the fuss was about?”

“You know what they say about curiosity and cats,” Tommy muses, “And satisfaction bringing them back.”

Buck hums, and loses the last tenuous grip on his dignity. “I could blow you.”

“You mean I’d get a blowjob and spared the sound of your voice?” Tommy says, pressing a little harsher into Buck’s clothed dick, delicious friction pushing a moan out of Buck’s mouth. “Is there a downside?”

“Your dick will be extremely close to my teeth,” Buck returns, “And I don’t want you to come down my throat. I want you to fuck me.”

“All you had to do was ask,” Tommy simpers, before dropping his saccharine tone for a bossy: “Now get on your fucking knees.”

And, really, who told him that Buck’s favorite part of his 1.0 phase was when his marks would boss him around? Against his will, his knees give out, and he drops down, watching himself kneel in front of Tommy before reluctantly breaking eye contact with the mirror, shuffling around to a face full of tented polyester.

“You’re so fucking obnoxious,” Buck says, even as he leans forward to run his tongue along the outline of Tommy’s cock. It’s mouth-watering.

“I thought the point of sucking cock was to have your mouth occupied,” Tommy scoffs, hand fisting Buck’s hair a little meanly. Buck wishes he could stop another moan from spilling out of his mouth, but the pain hits him just right.

With fingers that are still thankfully on board with what he’s doing, Buck deftly undoes Tommy’s belt buckle, unzips his pants, and marvels at the thick, long cock that he pulls from his boxers. Oh, he’s going to have so much fun with this. He licks up the underside of Tommy’s dick, slow and wet, and revels in the way his hand tightens in his hair.

It’s like riding a bike, or something, probably. Buck finds himself sucking on the head of Tommy’s cock like he was born for it, bobbing his head down the length of him, letting the filthy, wet, clicking noise of his throat echo around the hotel room. It must be like riding a bike, because the other option is that Buck really did need Tommy this bad. And it can’t be that. Bobby would skin him alive.

“Jesus,” Tommy swears, hips hitching into Buck’s mouth. It’s almost like he’s trying to hold back for Buck’s sake, which is… cute. Certainly nicer treatment than he’s used to, but he can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or not.

Either way, he can’t handle tenderness. Not now, and maybe not ever. He doesn’t get to have attachments. That much is clear. He sees the way Eddie and Hen and Chim worry over their loved ones. This way is better. He’s already got Christopher and Maddie and Jee-yun to worry about.

Buck pulls off Tommy’s cock with a loud pop. “You can fuck my throat. It’s okay. I won’t break.”

“I hate to think of what your team would do to me if I broke their favorite toy,” Tommy chuckles, “Especially Diaz. I hear he’s creative.”

“Do me a favor and don’t mention him with your dick next to my face,” Buck rolls his eyes, desperately ignoring the way his dick twitches at the mention of Eddie’s name, “I’ll be fine. Take me for a ride. I know you want to.”

“Oh, you’re gagging for it,” Tommy surmises, guiding his cock back to Buck’s mouth. Buck, unable to deny it, willingly goes down on Tommy, letting him set the pace as he fucks leisurely into Buck’s mouth.

Tommy pushes him down further, and Buck relaxes into it, until he can feel the warmth of Tommy’s hip where his nose pushes into soft flesh. “Holy shit,” Tommy says, “I’m starting to get why this was so effective, I think.”

Buck stays until black spots start dancing at the corners of his eyes, pulling back and heaving breath, and then returning to his spot with Tommy’s cock all the way down his throat. It’s alarmingly comfortable. For the first time since his team went AWOL, he wishes he wasn’t in too deep to quit. He could spend an entire lifetime sitting at Tommy’s feet with his dick choking him stupid.

He gets maybe three more off-breath-down reps in before Tommy is pulling him off by the hair. “Okay, if you still want me to fuck you, we have to take this elsewhere.”

“Yeah, I want,” Buck croaks, voice alarmingly fucked out. Tommy helps him up—strangely chivalrous for a man who has tried on multiple occasions to shoot him with a gun—and they tumble into bed together. If it weren’t for the fact of who both of them were, it might even be romantic.

Tommy has his mouth on Buck before he can get another word in edgewise. Buck starts scrambling to get the rest of their clothes off, and shirts, pants, underwear, and shoes end up scattered around the room.

“Lube? Condoms?” Tommy asks as Buck bites at the junction of his neck and jaw.

“Side table,” Buck says, “You don’t have to use a condom. I haven’t had sex in a while.”

“Poor thing,” Tommy says, faux-pitying, as he rifles through the drawer of the side table, “You must be so pent up.”

Honestly, Buck’s just used to his marks not wanting to use condoms, and dealing with the potential fallout later. Still, he’s kind of disappointed when Tommy pulls them out of the drawer along with the lube packets.

“You’re adorable when you pout,” Tommy grins, pressing a sickly sweet kiss to Buck’s cheek, “I’m using a condom.”

“Fine,” Buck huffs, rolling his hips up into Tommy’s, “Just hurry.”

Tommy, thankfully, wastes no time in emptying a lube packet into his hand and swiping it up against Buck’s hole, slicking the way for his fingers. He’s clearly no slouch at this, either, thick fingers deftly opening him up beneath him, forearm muscles flexing so deliciously.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-fuck-fuck,” Buck says, squirming as Tommy slides his fingers in and out in intoxicating rhythm, “Fuck me, Tommy, Tommy—”

“Finally, you’re saying something worth listening to,” Tommy smiles against Buck’s neck, “Never thought I’d get to hear the great Evan Buckley beg for my cock.”

“It’s—ah—it’s a specialty,” Buck pants, rolling his hips as he aches for more, for a harsh little sting, for something to distract him from the way this is starting to feel too much like intimacy and not enough like fucking.

“Maybe I’d like to hear some more,” Tommy says, pulling away to roll a condom on and slick himself up.

Buck, suddenly cold and empty, lets the words fall unabashed from his mouth. “Oh, please, Tommy, I’ll make it so good for you, it’ll feel so good, just need you in me, just need—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Tommy says, just on the wrong side of tender, “I know what you need. Hold still for me.”

And then there’s the thick press of Tommy’s cock against Buck’s hole. Tommy slips in with a stretch that has Buck mewling something embarrassing in the back of his throat, and leans forward as he slides deeper, inch-by-burning-inch, encouraged by the way Buck grips at his biceps.

“Breathe,” Tommy says as he bottoms out, at which point Buck realizes he’s been stuck with his head tipped back and mouth open. He sucks in a gasping breath, relaxing under Tommy’s bulk. Tommy is warm above him again, haloed by the dim hotel light, so close Buck can feel his breath on his cheek.

“Move,” Buck demands, squirming. Tommy seems only too happy to oblige, mouth finding Buck’s again as he starts to roll his hips into him. It’s a slow, languid fuck, but still enough to have Buck seeing stars.

“This how you got all those people to tell you what they were up to?” Tommy asks, a hand roaming down to pinch Buck’s nipple, coaxing a groan out of him. “You’d just lay here all pretty and let them take what they wanted?”

“Nnnnngh—usually they wanted me on top,” Buck says around a reedy moan, “But yeah, that’s the general idea.”

“You take it so well,” Tommy murmurs, snapping his hips in with just a little more force, “Makes me wonder how many times you’ve done this before. How many times you begged on your knees—how many times you’ve been a slut for terrible people.”

“You’re in perfectly fine company, I can assure you,” Buck says, trying to regain some of his composure, “Art thieves, mob bosses, hackers. You work with monsters every day, why can’t I sleep with them?”

“I’ll have you know that the monsters I work with are working for the greater good,” Tommy says, with a huffed laugh, “And if you keep talking about them I’m not going to let you finish.”

“Oh, you’re not going to let me?” Buck says, “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of taking what I want, too.”

“I’m sure you are, stud,” Tommy says, in that same condescending tone of voice that goes right to Buck’s dick. He fucks into him harder, right at the perfect angle, and Buck can’t help the pathetic moan that spills out of his mouth.

“You—were—talking—a little—too much,” Tommy grunts between thrusts, slamming into Buck again, and again, “Just lay back—and fucking take it.”

Like Buck could ever want to do anything else. He’s well aware of the fucked-out little uh, uh, uh noises that Tommy’s forcing out of him, but he’s far too gone to be embarrassed about it. This is the best fuck he’s had in years, he could care less what he sounds like or looks like right now.

Not that Tommy seems to mind. If anything, given the way he’s latched onto Buck’s neck like a goddamn vampire, he likes that Buck’s a writhing mess beneath him. Buck’s nerves are lit up, from the pain of Tommy’s less-than-gentle biting, from the way Tommy nails Buck’s prostate with every thrust, from the skin-on-skin he hasn’t had in so long.

His orgasm sneaks up on him. Usually, he’s a lot better about announcing it, giving his partners time to decide what they want, but Tommy is—Tommy is grunting and his back muscles are flexing under Buck’s fingers and his cock fills him so beautifully and Buck didn’t even think he could come without something on his dick, but—

Belatedly, as Buck rockets towards the clouds, he realizes that maybe there is something special about Agent 217.

Buck comes down slowly, to the feeling of hands gently petting his sides, and a softening dick sliding out of his ass. It’s gross, leaves him feeling sticky and a little used, but he can’t bring himself to care that much about it at all. To his complete shock, he feels Tommy rummaging around for something, and then the soft cotton of his shirt wiping the cum off of his stomach, and the lube from his ass.

“It’s okay, Evan,” Tommy says, gentle, soft, “You can rest.”

Buck, despite every ounce of self-preservation that says he’s leaving himself completely vulnerable, does.

He wakes to an empty room. Nothing seems amiss, so despite the deep humiliation and regret, Buck packs his things (luckily, finding his hiding spots untouched) and heads back to the rendezvous point.

Athena is waiting for him at the café, in streetwear that looks unnaturally casual on her. “Got everything?”

“Check and check,” Buck says, handing her the dossier, “Got some lovely pictures. The sunset was especially gorgeous last night.”

“You sound like you could use a tea with lemon and honey,” Athena winces, “You coming down with something?”

“No,” Buck says, fighting against the urge to flush.

Athena passes him a knowing smile over her coffee. “Thanks for this, Buck. I’ll let Bobby know you came through, and he’ll want to meet with you later. I think we’re getting close.”

“Good,” Buck sighs, “I can’t wait for this whole mess to be over. I never thought I’d say this, but it would be nice to do some paperwork for once.”

#my fics #prompt fill #bucktommy #tevan #kinkley

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rosewaterandivy · 1 month

Text

answer July— ah, said July—

summary: from Summersong Request-athon, inspired by "July, July!" as requested by marvelous Meg aka @courtingchaos 💜 || The soft pad of your index finger trails down the scar of his jaw, lingering there as you smile, a little different from before.

Softer, somehow. As if it’s just for him.

w.c.: 4700

pairing: e.m. x f!reader

themes: prosaic summer feels, the ephemeral nature of time, processing trauma, mention of previous bodily harm & its aftermath, insecurities and the like, body worship

a/n: long time, no see my fellow fiends. did i let this run away from me? maybe. do i care? not a wit! thanks for tagging along with the team, aka let eddie have a nice, normal summer for once - hope you enjoy! title from "Answer July" by Emily Dickinson.

Summer slipped by syrupy slow, lingering around the edges. All honey-coated and sweet, so much so in fact, that it struck one Eddie Munson as rather strange.

Granted, his spring had been touch and go what with being the town pariah and nearly bleeding his ever-loving guts out in the Upside Down and all. So maybe a slow uneventful summer was well-warranted after all of that.

May sprinted past with its final school bells ringing and a quick dash across the stage at graduation to snatch a diploma from Higgins before the school board could think better of it. He hastily threw together a quick campaign to welcome Will Byers back to town and only somewhat regretfully passed the mantle of Hellfire over to Henderson.

He got himself a job, nothing to write home about, but certainly something to pass the time and get him out of the house. Wayne insisted Eddie didn’t need to work and Eddie said the same for him, the never-ending cycle rearing its head once more.

The government hush money was, after all, nothing if not generous.

Still, he felt ill at ease in the new house. Liable to crawl out of his skin at times.

Besides, if it weren’t for the job, he’d have never set his sorry sights on the newbie behind the counter at the soda fountain.

Yes, of fucking course Hawkins, Indiana had an old-fashioned soda shop pharmacy combo.

Which did nothing to help his sweet tooth.

So, on the days he happened to close the record store, Eddie would peer across the street searching for a familiar head of hair, usually swept up onto a bun or ponytail by day’s end, and a smile that could melt the cockles of his cold, black heart.

The bell chimed as you rung up a sale for a customer at the register, the cash drawer grazing a bit of skin at your hip as you turned.

“Be with you in a sec!”

Eddie settled himself on a well-worn stool and drummed his fingers along the polished counter. He watched as you counted change for one of the old biddies who all but forced casserole down the throats of the Munson men after he’d been discharged from the hospital.

She thanks you and shoves a dollar in the tip jar as she makes to leave.

“Looking lovely as ever Pearl,” A low familiar voice says.

“Oh, you sweet talker,” The older woman swats at Munson still perched on his stool. She tsks and tugs at a lock of hair that’s fallen from where he’d tied it back in frustration. “One of these days I’ll come at you with my scissors, young man.”

Eddie sighs dramatically and swivels on the stool as she reaches the door, “Promises, promises. And yet…”

Pearl pushes the door open and says with a wink, “You’ll never see me coming.”

The door falls shut behind her, allowing him to return his attention to you behind the counter.

At the far end of the shop, you’re hefting open freezer doors and scooping out near perfect spheres of ice cream onto sugar and waffle cones, scoffing when someone requests a cup instead.

He’s surprised to see no one else behind the counter, there’s usually at least one person to man the counter with during the busier hours, the after dinner rush.

The door keeps chiming as people join the line, eyeing the offerings— campfire marshmallow, french toast, vanilla, strawberry, rainbow sherbert— the list goes on and on. Some lean over and whisper to their dates, earning a tittering giggle here and there. Sticky hands of children smack against the glass pointing out their selection as you shove another scoop onto a towering waffle cone.

And it’s then that Eddie decides he’s had quite enough of this.

Tossing his bag behind the counter and hopping over it, all long limbs and pointy elbows. His knees pop slightly as he passes behind you to grab a scoop from the water trough.

“What’re you doing?”

“Uh, helping out?”

And without another word, he turns to the next customer and takes their order, only stepping on the toes of your Keds once or twice before locating the correct flavor.

“God,” He mutters under his breath, the tendons of his forearm prominent as he scoops a glob of pink cotton candy ice cream onto a sugar cone. “People actually like this crap?”

You merely shrug in response before sliding the freezer door shut and opening the next. It goes like this for nearly half and hour before Vickie stumbles in from the service entrance, her cheeks tinged pink and accompanied by a dazed look in her eye.

“Sorry, sorry!” She frantically apologizes, clocking in with her punch card.

Tying on an apron, which Eddie never bothered to do, she greets the customers at the till and rings them up while you make what could very well be the hundredth shake ordered that day, the mixer revving loudly over your retort.

“I’ll allow it,” You turn with a knowing smirk to Vickie, “But you owe me big time, Little Red.”

“Details?” She squeaks.

“Oh, that and more Vic,” You laugh as the machine whirs to a stop.

Deftly, you pour the shake into a cup and shake the canister of whipped cream vigorously. Eddie tries and fails to hide the blush coloring his cheeks as your shirt rides up with the motion. The ‘JERK’ emblazoned on your chest pulling taut against the swell of your breasts from the movement.

He nearly chokes on his own spit.

“Shit,” He rasps as his throat pulls tight.

Passing the shake over with a polite smile to a customer, you thump him forcefully on the back.

Which would be all well and good, if not for the fact that he wasn’t expecting it, and, as a result, falls bodily into your chest, legs tangling with yours, and takes the pair of you down to the mat behind the counter.

“Ow.”

Peering open an eye, he finds Vickie, arms crossed and toe tapping the tile floor, looking down at the both of you with a bemused pull of her lips.

“See, this is why it’s employees only behind the counter,” You say with a grunt as you peel yourself from the floor. “You’re not OSHA certified, Munson.”

Eddie digs the heel of his palms into his eye sockets, hoping that maybe he can just sink into the floor and forget this ever happened.

Because you’re warm, what with having worked up a sweat manning the counter single-handedly and your legs are nice; too nice maybe, with the way his heart is kicking up in his chest, to say nothing of what’s kicking up in his pants.

“Sorry,” He sighs, coming to a seated position. “Are you okay?”

Dusting your hands against the denim cutoffs you’re sporting, you turn and give him a smile. “Never better.”

Legs still tangled, you unwind your limbs from his, crisp white Keds knocking against scuffed Reeboks. He takes the hand you offer and allows himself to be pulled up, only to be greeted by six beatific smiles and less than subtle winks or nods.

“Sooooo,” Dustin drawls, fingers drumming against the glass of the freezer, “Fun trip?”

The ensuing laughter and taunts from what was formerly his favorite group of high schoolers, is enough to make Eddie miss the solitude of Reefer Rick’s cabin.

If May was a sprint, then June was a dive into cool water.

Rope swings lassoed around tree branches, splashing into a placid lake from great heights. Blankets spread on rocks and grass for makeshift picnics. The hum of cicadas as lips wrapped around lifted bottles of booze from the Harrington’s liquor cabinet.

Nearly a month gone and Eddie still hadn’t worked up the courage.

Which is how he found himself perched on rock formation that bordered Lover’s Lake with the boys— Harrington, Byers, and Argyle— playing barely tipsy lifeguard as you swam circles around Nancy, Robin, and Vickie. The latter two had somehow wound themselves into a Gordian Knot of limbs and had earned an eagle-eyed glare from one former captain of the swim team.

“Go to the shallows!” Steve called out, a half-empty bottle of whiskey at his feet. “No, Rob,” He huffed and stood up, “You gotta use your arms, like this!” He demonstrated with a perfect backstroke that Robin seemed woefully unequipped to replicate.

“What?!”

Robin’s befuddled call echoed against the rocks lining the shore and spurned Steve into action.

“Jesus Christ,” He muttered, passing the bottle off to Eddie. “Stay there ya dingus!”

Steve’s body elegantly cut into the water and he surfaced to a smattering of applause from those still perched on the rock.

“Good form, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Eddie decreed before taking long pull from the bottle.

“Now way man,” Argyle piped up, “That’s at least a 9.The way he slipped into the water like that? Some top tier stuff right there.”

He elbowed Jonathan who was preoccupied with blowing rings from his joint.

“Huh? Oh, uh. 5?”

Steve merely rolled his eyes and swam toward Robin and Vickie, who where no closer to shore now than they were when this whole charade began.

“You’re shitting me dude. A 5 out of 10?”

“Oh, fuck.” Jonathan completed one rather slow blink in Eddie’s direction. “I thought it was like, out of five. My bad.”

Argyle called out the new score from the judges to Steve, who had his hands full with Robin and Vickie’s frantically kicking and thrashing limbs, so much so, that he was rather relieved when you swam up beside him to help.

Eddie placed the bottle between his feet and leaned back on his hands, face turned toward the night sky.

Stars littered the inky blue like so many twinkling lights. A few lightning bugs buzzed further along the edge of the wood, a soft yellow glow to guide through the dark. The lake grew calm again, small lapping waves skirting the shore as distant voices grew closer.

“Hey man,” Argyle nudged Eddie’s shoulder with his, knocking him from his reverie. “How’s our favorite soda jerk?”

He smiled despite himself, “She’s fine, I guess.”

“Hmm. And Operation Meatball?”

Eddie groaned and rolled his eyes, “Henderson got to you too, I see. That kid needs to get a hobby.”

Dustin, and the rest of his band of hellions, had gotten it into their heads that Eddie and you were destined to be. Had an entire notebook dedicated to plans and named the whole endeavor after a scene from Lady and the Tramp, which Eddie couldn’t even bring himself to protest.

“I dunno dude,” Argyle shrugged, “She’s schmokin and I may have seen her eye you a time or two.”

He was glad for the cover of night, because his face felt positively on fire.

“You know, if you’d—” Argyle began, only to get cut off by the sound of approaching footfalls.

“Hey guys,” You greeted, stepping onto the rock and dripping water onto Eddie’s arm. “Oh, shit, sorry Ed!” You take a step back and grab a towel from a nearby bag. Tying your hair up in the striped towel, you settle back at his side. “Ooh, got any more of that?”

He follows your eyes to the bottle at his feet, and stretches to grab it. Your damp fingers brush his along the neck of the bottle, and he, impossibly, blushes all the more.

“S’all yours.”

“Much obliged,” You say with a nod toward him.

Your lips wrap around the bottle, and Eddie can’t help but watch a rivulet of water trickle its way down your throat. His fingers itch to chase it, his tongue longs to taste it.

Jonathan deploys a well-timed cough and pointed glance in Eddie’s direction to excuse himself and Argyle.

“Catch you later chica,” Argyle promises with a grasp to your shoulder, “Lemme know when that horchata flavor comes in!”

You promise to do so with a laugh and a wave, before turning your attention back to the water. Eddie sits at your side, quiet, save for the movemnt of his fingers as he fiddles with his rings. There’s a few sounds from Steve dutifully pouring Robin and Vickie into the BMW with conferring with Nancy as she wrangles Jonathan and Argyle into the station wagon.

“You good?”

Turning at the sound of Nancy’s voice, Eddie can see your mouth pull into a smile, the white of your teeth bringing to mind a cheshire cat. Your elbow knocks into his as you duck toward him conspiratorially.

“Whaddya say, Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

Lightning bugs float around your damp hair that’s fallen from its turban, water slick waves drying slowly in the summer heat. A halo blurry gold around your head, Eddie loses all faculty of language, lost in the soft glow cast against your sun warmed skin.

“Take me home?”

He merely nods in response, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“I’m good!” You call back to Nancy and take another pull from the bottle.

“Call me when you’re home!”

The sound of car engines turning over fills the air, tires crunching over gravel and dried pine needles littering the forest floor. The heat of the day quickly dissipates, replaced with a soft breeze that alleviates a bit of the humidity. And it’s quiet on the shore, save for the clinking of the bottle as you take sips every so often.

For all his gregarious and dramatic antics, truth be told, Eddie didn’t quite know how to simply be. At least, not since spring break with the nearly dying and all of that. He’d returned to the land of the living a little more somber, recovering in the hospital between hushed tones from doctors and nurses, louder exclamations from Henderson and his brood, the comforting weight of Wayne’s hand at his shoulder.

Sure, he’d rallied.

Put on a brave face for the kids, found familiarity in a strained smile mirrored in Steve. Noticed his own body jerking in time with Robin’s at the sound of an unanticipated loud noise. Was quick to cover his discomfort with a joke buoyed by Argyle’s raucous laugh. Found himself helping Nancy plan outings to take everyone’s mind off of things. Sought out Jonathan to share a smoke when it all got to be too much.

But you—

He never minded the quiet with you.

Eddie could maybe, for a moment, let it fall away.

A clink of a glass bottle broke his reverie as it joined the others discarded on the ground.

“This is nice,” You said with a languid stretch, arms raised above your head and falling in a graceful arc as you settled back against the rock.

He had to agree.

“Can I uh, ask you something?”

Your voice had taken on an unfamiliar tone, almost as if you made yourself smaller and unsure. It wasn’t his favorite, he had to admit. Eddie preferred the unapologetic way you carried yourself, a royal flush of confidence which you bandied about with no inhibitions.

Timid didn’t suit you, at least, not in his humble opinion.

He knocked shoulders with you, tried to inject some levity into his voice.

“Shoot.”

“Well,” You squirmed next to him, “And you don’t have to answer this if like, it makes you uncomfortable— the last thing I wanna do is offend you, swear to God.” You take a breath to steel yourself. “I just, I noticed you weren’t swimming today.”

“Ah.”

“I mean,” You clear your throat, “You really never swim, not at Steve’s pool, not here. So.”

“Are you asking if I can swim?” He jokes, “Because, I’m definitely capable. Dear old Dad threw me into a creek,” crick, “And told me to get on with it.”

A hushed laugh falls from your lips, “So, you can but you don’t. Any reason why?”

“Well that,” He says, softer now, “Is quite the story.”

You hum, content with the response not pushing for more than he’s willing to share.

“Tell me someday?”

And oh, is he in trouble. Because the odds of that are more far likely than you’d think.

You’re quick to pack up after that. Eddie trails after you, tossing an odd can or cigarette butt into a trash bag and hauling it to the van. He scratches the light stubble of his jaw, nail catching along the scar decorating his cheek. It’s not as bad as it had been, mostly white with pink tinged edges, and receding into his jawline enough to slip most notice.

It’s not that Eddie regrets the scars, he did what he had to do— the whorls of pink and white puckered skin that now embellished him from hip to shoulder were a simple reminder of that.

Just not one that he’s keen to advertise.

He lets you fiddle with the radio, static crackling through the speakers before the opening riff of Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love” sails through. An easy smile lights up your face as you lean back in the seat and sing along.

I’ll be with you my darling, soon, I’ll be with you when the stars start falling

His grip tightens on the wheel and he wills himself to focus on the road ahead and not the soft croon of your voice. Which is kind of difficult given how sweet you sound, how desperate he is for your touch.

He rolls up to your apartment complex by the song’s end, having had the pleasure of your signing for the duration of the drive. And Eddie’s probably biased, but he thinks you could give Jack Bruce a run for his money.

He parks the van in front of your building, letting it idle as you unbuckle your seatbelt. You’re grooving a little bit in your seat, and Eddie allows himself a moment to be selfish— gazing as you shake out your mostly dry hair and sway in time to the song, a secret smile pulling at his lips.

Opening your eyes, you meet his gaze. Leaning over the consol, your fingers caress his jaw, turning him to face you fully. The soft pad of your index finger trails down the scar of his jaw, lingering there as you smile, a little different from before.

Softer, somehow. As if it’s just for him.

I’ve been waiting so long, to be where I’m going in the sunshine of your love.

But July—

July passes like a dream, as delightful as the sugary syrup currently crawling its way down your arm. The bomb pop melting all too quickly in the height of the summer sun, trickles of red, white, and blue cascade down your sun hewn skin.

A screech pierces the air as Eddie leans over from his seat on the Harrington’s patio to lick the drips from your arm.

Loud enough to draw the attention of the kids and soon his soft huffs of laughter as replaced with a prolonged “Eeeewwww,” from the girls and an offended scoff of “Gross,” from Henderson.

“Can it!” Steve says, volleying a beach ball at his head, knocking his ever-preset baseball cap into the chlorinated water.

Eddie nods in thanks before continuing his assault of your arm.

“Shit, babe, no teeth!”

He ignores this and elects to dig his teeth into the temptation of your skin. You swat him away and recline back in your chair, Raybans affixed to your face, a pout on your lips.

“You’re no fun,” He grouses, kicking back in his recliner. “You use teeth.”

“Artfully,” You quip back in reply, “Poetry will be written about the exploits of my chompers, the deftness, the skill with which I decorate canvases of skin.”

And well yeah, Eddie would know. He has several bruises blossoming along his torso and thighs from said exploits.

So he really couldn’t complain.

He lets the clubmasters slide back onto his face, the blue polarized lenses giving the scene a cooler, dreamier tint. His hand falls to the side, fingers walking their way over to tangle with yours. You give him a quick squeeze before turning your attention back to your latest bookstore acquisition, The Handmaid’s Tale.

In fact, once Eddie got over himself and blurted out some amalgamation of ‘Can I take you out?’, you’d booped him on the nose in response, much to his horror, and waited a beat to say:

“Sure thing, stud,” — Eddie’s summer had only gotten better.

Was it annoying to have near daily occurrence of high schoolers singing “Summer Lovin’” at him? Yes. Were you worth it? Obviously.

Eddie had attempted to date, briefly and disastrously, in the past. In that respect, maybe he was a little gun shy.

But one night stands? Quickies? Handies after a deal at a party? Bjs in the back of the van?

Yeah, that he’d done. And was definitely the more enthusiastic partner in retrospect. And now, with you?

Well, suffice it to say that your first round in the sack wasn’t exactly picture perfect, and he’d nearly gotten a broken nose for all his effort. But, y’know, learning curve and all that, maybe some lighting was required so he could avoid getting socked in the mouth or something.

“Yuck, what is that?” Dustin says with thinly veiled annoyance, gesturing to your hand clasped in Eddie’s. “Hands Across America?”

“The fuck,” Eddie perks up, squinting as he flips his sunglasses onto his forehead. “Hands doing what now?”

“Pfft,” You blow a raspberry and lazily thumb over to a new page, “You don’t even know what day it is, or what’s going on.”

“Yeah, and I wish I knew even less.”

“Hands Across America was months ago, by the way.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

“Really and truly.”

“So, hey,” Eddie ignores Dustin’s gagging and turns toward you in earnest. “D’ya like sex?”

“Uh huh.”

“And travel, you like that, right?”

“Yep.”

“Well then, sweetheart,” He drops your hand from his, drawing your interest away from the plot.

You huff, perturbed by the interruption and glance his way.

“Then you can fuck right off.”

Eddie raises a solitary finger elegantly, aristocratically even. Something practiced time and time again until it became second nature. It’d be kind of impressive if he weren’t so damned annoying about it, flipping the bird every chance he got.

A trait that, unfortunately, the young Wheeler had adopted as his own.

Despite yourself, a laugh breaks from your lips, loud enough to draw the other’s attention from the pool.

“God, I hate you.”

“Really and truly?”

“Oh, you bet sunshine.”

Unbeknownst to the pair of you, Steve and Robin had corralled the kids out of the pool and lured them away with the promise of pizza. Nancy sidles out from the sliding glass door with the cordless in hand, tossing it over to Eddie.

“We got the usual— cheese, pepperoni, and cheesy bread. But I know you’re particular, so.”

“Right on, Wheels. Good lookin’ out.”

Eddie grabs for you again fingers twining with yours as he rattles off the usual to the pizza guy as Nancy makes her way back inside.

“Hey man, can I get an order of mushroom and black olive with the banana peppers and a shit ton of red pepper flakes? Uh huh, yeah.”

He pulls the phone away from his face, tucking it against his jaw to mouth something to you.

You watch his lips, red from one too many popsicles, form the words.

“Garlic sauce? Hell yeah.”

He returns to the call.

“And the— Oh, you heard that? Cool. Thanks, man.”

He hangs up and tosses the phone onto a rumpled pile of towels, tugging at your arm.

“Ugh, what,” You grouse, finally dropping your book on the patio.

“You’re so far away,” He whines, draping the back of his hand across his forehead to heave a woeful sigh. “Oh, when will my beloved return from the war?”

You roll your eyes and clamber over to his pool chair, straddling his hips. “Okay, calm down Scarlett. Tara is thattaway.” You hike a thumb somewhere in the general vicinity of what you’re pretty sure is south. You laugh and crawl your way into his lap.

And, here’s the thing:

It’s easy.

A foreign concept in Eddie’s life up until this particular point.

Which is to say, that since the advent of your relationship with him, Eddie found himself spending more time on his knees than he ever had amongst the pews.

While there’s no catechism for for this particular piety, he’ll take this act of communion for what it is—

His lips and tongue spouting devotionals as he kneels between your thighs. And he’d never been one for God, but maybe He’d made it so two bodies can fit holy wholly together.

After all, he’d been penitent enough.

You twine a streamer of his hair around your finger, head slotting into the cul-de-sac of his throat. His arms wind about your hips, anchoring you in place.

Steve sticks his head out to say he’s forcing the kids on a field-trip to get the pizza, Nance and Robin are grabbing some drinks from the store.

You hum in idle contentment and sink further into Eddie, as if he could consume you entire.

If my body is of your body and your body is of mine, can ever the two be parted? What lies in me now does in you, a reflection in kind.

The marks that decorate his skin, both intentional and accidental, fail to define him.

If they ever really could.

You’d traced their shape, plotted their paths, and transmuted them before his very eyes. The weight, the lead sinking and skittering and pulling him down was no more.

“If I could,” you’d said softly one night, a riot of arms and legs tangled against his own, a lone finger rhapsodizing against his ribs, travelling a familiar continent. “I’d paint you golden.”

No, not gilt.

But gold.

It still daunts Eddie how freely he fell— for you and the effervescent joy that flourished in your wake. It used to unnerve him, if he thought about it too much. For the longest time, he wasn’t sure if what he felt was real, or simply a facsimile of love.

He learned not to dawdle in his darker moods.

He’d hummed at your declaration, so much more accustomed to gloomier comparisons. You’d turned up at him, cleaving your chin across the ladder of his ribs, eyes big and brighter than any star he’d ever seen.

And he hadn’t known what to say.

Weeks had passed and he still hadn’t a clue how to respond.

“Hey,” Dustin yells, striding out of the sliding glass door. “Dinner’s ready!” He waits impatiently, striking a similar pose to that of Steve when he’s at his wit’s end.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, shooing him away and slinging a leg off of the recliner.

He takes you with him, much to your protest.

“Noooo,” you whine, “Eddie, the physical therapist said—”

“That I’m fine,” He reminds you, securing his grip under your thighs as he carries you inside the house.

Your petulant pout demands satisfaction, and he acquiesces, dipping his head to yours in a quick kiss.

“Y’know,” he says, voice rumbling and low as everyone fixes up their plates in the kitchen. He sets you on the island counter, his hands spread just past your thighs, arms loosely caging you in.

He smells like summer— sugar and chlorine and salt and the tell-tale wisp of a cigarette. His hair is loose and wild, sheltering you from prying eyes as he rests his head against yours.

It hits him like a thunderclap and descends as quickly as revelation.

“I’d follow you into the sun.”

It’s not a declaration, but a simple fact.

Love.

He’d tell you someday, but not quite yet.

For now, he’ll watch your lips kick up in that adorable smile of yours, the kind that crinkles the corner of your eyes from the sheer amount of joy packed in it. Allowing himself to float on the thinnest of air just for a moment.

This summer, you’ve been his North Star, always there.

And he hopes you always will be.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #cee's summersong request-athon

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hazbinshusk · 4 months

Text

husk x reader. a birthday present written for the wonderful @monstrousvoice. just pure, tooth-rotting birthday fluff featuring everybody's favourite alcoholic feline bartender. hope you like it!

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“D’you think Angel will be upset that we left early?” you ask as the two of you make your way back to the Hotel. It’s just barely three a.m., and the streets are reaching their peak of sinful depravity all around you.

“If he even notices,” Husk replies with a shrug of one shoulder. A car screeches around the corner, and Husk takes hold of your wrist, tugging you over to walk on the other side of him so he’s between you and the gutter. Your skin is warm where he touches you, and you feel a brief pang of disappointment when he releases you. “He seemed pretty… distracted.”

You chuckle quietly. Angel had been enjoying the limelight at a new club opening, and with Cherri there to keep an eye on him you hadn’t felt too bad about calling it an early night.

“I gotta say, Husk, I genuinely can’t tell if you enjoyed yourself tonight or not.”

The promise of free booze thanks to Angel’s level of celebrity had warred with the loud music and large crowds for the bartender, but the former had won out.

“Not exactly my kind of fun,” he admits and you feel his wing rise quickly behind you, hear the sound of glass breaking against the dense wall of feathers that suddenly shield you from harm. He shakes away the broken glass before tucking his wing back down against his shoulder. How he’d noticed the bottle’s trajectory towards you without turning around you had no idea. “But it’s lookin’ up.”

You smile to yourself as the two of you make your way up the hill to the hotel, your shoulder bumping against his briefly. You can feel warmth swirling in your stomach at the easy proximity between the two of you and you swallow, fixing your gaze pointedly on the hotel ahead of you. Your friendship with Husk has steadily become one of the brighter points in Hell for you, and you didn’t need to jeopardize it by letting yourself indulge in whatever it is you’re feeling.

The two of you don’t speak again until you’re in the lobby, and the two of you linger there for a long few moments. You swear you feel Husk’s eyes on your face but when you look up, he glances towards the bar, rubbing his claws through the fur at the back of his neck. You cough awkwardly, jerking your head towards the stairs. “So, I… I’m gonna head up. But I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ve got somethin’ for you,” Husk blurts out as you turn away, and you stop, surprised. When you meet his eye he looks almost… embarrassed, his ears low and the bridge of his nose a soft pink. He clears his throat, making his way to the bar. “It’s, uh…”

You follow him curiously, taking a seat on your usual stool as he rounds the bar to reach beneath it. He glances back up at you in a way you could swear is shy.

“Can you, uh… jus’… shut your eyes for a minute, okay?”

You raise a brow but do as he asks, folding your hands in your lap. You can hear him fumbling around with something for a moment, a soft click, and after a few moments you feel him take the stool beside you. Without opening your eyes you turn to face him, your knee bumping against his thigh.

“Okay,” Husk’s velvet tenor says quietly, and you try to ignore the shiver that runs up your back. “You can… you can open ‘em up now.”

You do so slowly, blinking a couple of times before your eyes settle on the space on the bar between you.

A cupcake sits on a small china plate on the polished wood, topped with soft white frosting and a single burning candle. You stare at it for a few seconds in surprise before dragging your eyes back to Husk. The candlelight plays over his features, the warm light making his eyes glow.

He gives you a small, embarrassed smile. “Happy birthday, doll.”

“How did you even…?” you swallow; you can feel the beginnings of tears welling to stick in the back of your throat. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“I wanted to.” he says and shrugs a shoulder as though it was a gesture that didn’t make your heart flip against your ribs. “Didn’t think your birthday should be all about someone else.”

You feel a soft smile on your lips, your eyes falling to where your hands were still twisted together in your lap. “Thank you, Husk.”

“You okay?” he asks, his own voice now barely more than a gentle rumble. With your eyes on his you feel your breathing hitch… you hadn’t realized just how close he is to you. “You’re, um… you’re blushin’.”

You nod slowly, and you see his eyes fall to your lips for a moment. Your heart flutters, and you feel yourself lean forward for a second. A brief flicker of surprise passes over his features before he moves forwards incrementally too. The moment hangs between the two of you for what feels like forever, the passing time only marked by the shadows dancing over his face and your heartbeat pounding in your chest.

And then… and then the two of you lean forward, his lips brushing softly against yours.

It’s hauntingly brief but still leaves you breathless, and you feel your inhale come shudderingly as he pulls away. He doesn’t go far, his forehead only inches away from pressing against your own.

“’s this okay?” he whispers and you nod, bringing your mouth back to his.

Husk kisses you with reverence, his lips achingly soft and his breath fanning warm across your chin when you part briefly. You reach up to touch your fingers to his cheek, carding your fingertips carefully through the soft fur. A quiet sound, almost a whimper, escapes you as you feel his hand take a gentle hold of your waist.

The kiss doesn’t deepen, doesn’t morph into something salacious, it just lingers in an embrace that sends butterflies through every part of you.

When you do finally pull away you’re breathless, and you see the warmth in your cheeks mirrored in the pink of his. His paw still rests on your waist, and you can feel it curl in the fabric covering your side as you lean over and blow out the candle on top of your cake.

#husk x reader #husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #husk posting #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #my fic #husk fic

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kurishiri · 2 months

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epilogue . . . “ the medical record of the love between the hunter and me ”

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— this is the epilogue story for roger’s past records, which is available after sending hearts 700 times. this is told in kate’s point of view, and takes place after they become a couple, so i would personally recommend reading this after you've read at least one branch of his route. (but it's not necessarily required!)

— cw: roger without glasses 🤭, nsfw (fade to black), a bit unedited.

It was the early afternoon, the weather clear, a little after Roger and I had become lovers.

“Your medical records could use some polishing, lil lady.”

That was what Roger said as he called me to the laboratory.

Roger: I asked Victor for your diagnostic tests, right? As for your weight——

Kate: Don’t read it out loud!

Roger: Humans are about the only living beings that care about every little thing about their weight.

Kate: Well, I can’t argue with that, but still...

Roger: It’s all well and good you grew up big.

Even after becoming lovers, it seemed Roger’s tendency to lack delicacy sometimes was going strong.

(Well, that said... I also love that about him too.)

Kate: Wait, I’m pretty sure filling in my medical record won’t make much difference... there’s not much point...

Roger: ‘There’s not much point,’ you say?

Kate: I mean, what you want is data on the Cursed ones, right?

K: As much as I’d love to be of help to you, I’m not Cursed myself...

Roger: Hey now, don’t go saying sad stuff like that.

R: Kate, as my special fairytale keeper, you’ll need to continue to accompany me on missions from here on out.

R: And that’s already asking for more danger than a normal person. That’s all to say,

R: if I get to know you on an even deeper level, I can save you more.

With a broad grin, Roger’s canine tooth peeked out.

That smile alone was enough to make me happy...

(To think Roger’s thought this much about me!)

The happiness at having become his lover spread through my entire body, and I gave him a broad nod in turn.

Kate: If that’s the case, I’ll answer anything!

Roger: .........Anything, huh.

In my enthusiasm in answering, I missed Roger’s words, which came in a whisper.

Roger: Then, let’s start the examination.

Kate: Alright, I’ll be in your care!

Roger: What’s your type, lil lady?

(.........Huh?)

Kate: Is... is that needed for the medical record?

Roger: Very much actually. I’m a former doctor, so you think I’d go around asking pointless questions?

Kate: W-well, besides, we are dating already, so do I really need to say my type out loud...

Roger: Your type could be different, even if we are dating. So I have to ask, just in case.

(Is... that true?)

There was no hesitation in Roger’s tone, so it would be strange not to be able to answer.

My type, huh——Roger’s figure popped into my mind then.

Kate: Uhm, I like to watch someone eat a lot, I think.

Roger: Eat a lot, you say? Ahh, so you mean me?

Kate: T-that’s not necessarily the case!

Roger paid no mind to how flustered I was from him hitting the bull’s eye, instead asking the next question.

Roger: Okay, next. What’s something you’ve found fun recently?

He asked the question so quickly to me, I felt I had to answer quickly.

Kate: Something fun is... ah...

K: Yesterday, I had some very hot food, and it was so spicy I ended up laughing.

Roger: You’re talking about the one we were eating together, right? I remember that too.

Kate: ...Eh, ah...

Roger: Okay, next. Who in Crown do you find the most charming?

Kate: That...

I didn’t even have to mull over it; that was just how charming Roger was.

(...Oh no.)

——This is definitely not for filling in the medical records.

But by the time I realized, it was already too late.

Roger: What, keeping quiet? Then, let me ask a final question, for a bad patient.

Roger’s fingertips poked over where my heart was.

Roger: You’ve been teased so relentlessly, and yet your heart’s beating so fast... why is that?

Roger has the ability to hear sounds up to 100 yards away.

So it came as no surprise that he was aware how fast my heart was beating.

Kate: Please don’t listen in...

Roger: No can do, your heart’s the one that’s too noisy.

R: See, it’s going thump thump so fast, it’s pretty cute.

Kate: Uu...

Roger: Oh? You’re going to cry? In that case, by all means, feel free to. I’ll be happy about that.

(T-this man, I swear——!)

I threw him the sharpest glare I could muster at a grinning Roger.

Kate: I thought this before we got together, too, but why do you always have to do things like this!?

K: You say you don’t like doing anything unnecessary, but then you go and do exactly that!

Roger: That’s because I want to take care of you.

R: Because your crying face is cute.

R: Because I want to talk more with you.

R: And because, if it’s with you, I don’t find any of it unnecessary.

R: I’ve got loads of reasons up my sleeve. You wanna hear more?

He hit me with one sweet reason after another as if being shot by a gun, rendering me unable to respond.

No matter how frustrated I got at his teasing, I ended up on the palm of his hand,

and I end up wagging my tail in happiness, like a dog.

I really do like Roger.

(God... I really want to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him right now.)

But, if I wag my tail so easily for him, I wouldn’t be any different than Ale.

(I’m the woman who’s been trained by Roger, so I need to have some kind of comeback.)

(After all, I’m not someone who just falls on the palm of others!)

Regaining my composure, I tried to act out a confident, capable woman.

Kate: Haven’t we talked enough about me? Now you answer my questions.

K: It’s not fair if I’m the only one doing the answering.

Roger: Hmm? Okay then, ask away.

Kate: “What’s your type,” Roger?

I returned the question that had left me flustered before back at Roger, and I inwardly chuckled to myself.

(Hehe, it would be nice if I could make Roger feel the same way I did, even just a little.)

——But, my intentions were seen through all too soon, to my disappointment.

Roger: “My type” is someone who’s much like a dog, and someone who can think for themself.

R: And if you have the spirit to try and get back at me for what I did to you, all the better.

R: Ahh, come to think of it, someone like the one right before my eyes is really my type.

Kate: Wh...

Roger: “What’s something you’ve found fun recently?”

R: Right now, this moment.

Kate: Ah...

Roger: “Who in Crown do you find the most charming?”

R: If you count as a member of Crown——then it can only be you, Kate.

I could only blink in response as Roger’s strong arms wrapped around me.

My ears were pressed against his warm chest...

Roger: Here, listen to my heart.

Being hit with those sweet words on top of that, I felt myself going dizzy.

Kate: I think my heart’s being too noisy... so, I can’t tell.

Roger: Pfft, hahahaha!

R: Guess that makes it my win.

Seeing him laugh so happily while patting my head, that sort of innocence was rare coming from him, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

(...Jeez... I really am no match for him.)

Kate: Hehe, I don’t recall this ever having been a match, but I surrender.

I was always on the palm of his head, and that was so frustrating it was unbearable.

But, I’m not someone who will fall into anyone’s palm.

(Roger, you are the most special to me, and I wouldn’t replace you for the world.)

(That’s why, I will happily fall into the palm of your hand.)

Roger: What’re you talking about, isn’t it too early to surrender?

The hand that had been on my head slipped before grabbing and lifting my chin.

Roger: We’ve only just become lovers. So we have to get to know each other more.

The eyes before me pierced me with a heat that resembled a hunter aiming for his prey.

He didn’t even try to conceal that heat, and it brought out my desire as well.

Kate: ...What do we need to do, in order to get to know each other deeper?

Roger: Let’s see now, first of all...

Kate: Mn, nn...

While kissing me, Roger lifted me before pinning me down on the lab table.

Roger: Do I need to spell out the rest... lil lady?

Just thinking about what he was going to do made the bottom of my stomach throb.

As if seeing through my desire, Roger’s fingers traced my thighs before they made their way in my underwear.

Roger: ...Hm?

(Ahh, jeez...)

I removed Roger’s glasses, and in an attempt to divert him from my embarrassment, I turned my face away.

Kate: ...I know, but still... tell me.

Roger: .........Alright, I’ll tell you everything.

—— Time skip ——

As the night deepened, Victor and Roger’s shadows were present in the lounge.

Victor: Oh, right, Roger. About Kate’s medical records...

Roger: Ahh, that. I have it here.

Victor: Thank you, that was quick as always. Oh? This date...

V: To think you’ve taken such detailed records on her since the day she started as a fairytale keeper...

Roger: Well, yeah.

Victor: I’m sure if Kate knew, she would be delighted.

Roger: No, best to keep that a secret.

R: Since the day I met her, the thing I liked the most was giving her a bit of trouble.

Fin.

← main story 👑 ecb story 🪞🍻

full masterlist 🍻

END NOTES: i believe this basically concludes my translation of roger’s past records! and a big big thank you to everyone who read to the end! i had fun translating this story, since in addition to roger, we can see a variety of other characters being featured — and they even feature a chapter where crown is just being the dysfunctional found family they are 🤭

i hope this story can serve as a good starting for roger’s route (and perhaps future routes too, though in the end we still don’t know too much about victor, haha). i’d love to hear your thoughts 🥹🙏

#ikemen villains #ikevil #イケメンヴィラン #ikevil roger #ikevil roger barel #roger barel #ikemen villains roger #ikevil victor #ikemen villains victor #cybird ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen series #otome game #otome #ikevil translation #ikevil translations

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 8 months

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A/N ::: I'm so obsessed with this it's not even cute. Itadakimasu (いただきます) is a Japanese phrase that translates "to humbly receive". Often said before eating a meal, the phrase is used as a way of showing gratitude and respect for everyone and everything that made the meal in front of you possible.

A couple of teensy tiny spoilers about a couple of his personality traits. They're not anything that would ruin the whole show. Just spoilers about his cute ass personality. Ok, carry on.

C/W ::: Being rudely woken up, oral M->F, some mild name calling, exhibition kink if you look too closely but not really. I think that's it. Overuse of italics!

Thinking about Mikey laying there next to you. Disgruntled. You're snoozing away like a little baby who just polished off a full 8 ounces. He can't believe how peacefully you're sleeping like that. The nerve of you to actually do that shit while he's right there.

He shifts multiple times. Coughs, really, way too hard for someone who's not exerting themselves in anyway whatsoever. "Accidentally" elbows you in the tit.

"The FUCK, Manjiro! What's your problem right now, man?" You sit up and glare at him.

"Can't sleep. And you wouldn't wake up." He whined.

"Yuh, 'cause I'M sleeping, you brat!" You felt bad immediately after saying that to him. It's rarely like this and you wondered if something was bothering him. Sighing, you ask, "Are you ok, though? You have your blanket?"

"I ... mean, since you're asking. 'M a little hungry." He raised his eyebrows softly and smiled so fucking sweetly at you that your tooth hurt.

"Fine, c'mere you big baby." He rolled over onto his belly and began kissing up your legs to your panty clad cunt. Pushing the sheer fabric aside, he licked your slit once, twice. You moaned out as quietly as you could. Draken and Baji were on the floor, hopefully asleep themselves.

"How are you this wet already!" Mikey whisper-yelled. "Were you faking being asleep? Tell me the truth, y/n." He laughed and shook his head before lowering his face again.

"I - hoh Je-Jesus - no, I wasn't faking. I think it's just you. Being so close to you. Fuckin' ... I'm always horny." You blushed.

"Good girl ... good ..." he started to suck on your clit and trace his tongue in circles around the sensitive spot, "... girl."

You arched your back and bit your lip to stifle the moans that were threatening to escape your mouth. He was going down on you like he hadn't seen you in days. You reached down and ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots, encouraging him.

Mikey took his time licking your pussy from top to bottom, occasionally sucking your clit hard, then switching to flicking it with his tongue. He loved your taste and how wet you always got for him. How responsive you were to his touch.

"I want to make you come, y/n." He said, his fingers softly brushing your entrance.

"Who's this about, huh? You or me? You're the one who can't sleep. Shouldn't you cum?"

"Love, it's about both of us. Quid pro quo. Eye of the tiger and all that shit. Now shhh. Lay back, let me eat so I can pass out. Yeah?"

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @viburnt @darkstarlight82

#mikey tokrev #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #mikey sano #sano mikey manjiro #tokyo revengers #tokrev smut #mikey tokyo revengers #manjiro x reader #manjiro x you #manjiro x y/n #manjiro smut

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crushribbons · 3 months

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𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔭𝔦𝔡

summary: Leander Prewett holds the record for densest man alive.

cw: 5k words, fluff, pseudo-friends to lovers, SMUT (18+ ONLY), this one got away from me ngl☝️, fingering, penetrative sex, fem reader. based on requests from anon and @rypnami ty very much lovies! requests open :)

a/n: smart boy being dumb make brain go brrrrrr xx laney

She hadn’t expected the greenhouses to be so sweltering. The bright, open ceiling let sunlight pour down onto the students as they packed soil around their Mandrake seedlings, and sweat was pooling on more than one neck. Her robes felt heavier and heavier as the heat encroached. The mandrake screams had been enough to frazzle her until her temple throbbed and her hair stuck out like a fuzzy halo around her forehead.

Despite all this, she was really trying to listen to Professor Garlick’s sweet voice instructing her to go test out the Chinese chomping cabbages in the adjacent greenhouse. She really and truly was, but her eyes had just followed the professor’s outstretched hand and made contact with the student assigned to help her. On the top of the landing stood a tall, red-haired Gryffindor (Do they all have red hair? she thought to herself), clicking his fingers absently at his side and looking somewhat bored. Butterflies gathered in a swarm in her stomach. Professor Garlick said his name, but it was lost in the rush of blood in her ears. The boy turned and caught sight of her, and she wondered if the stuffy greenhouse was getting to him, too, or if his face was always that flushed.

She tried hard not to run up the stairs, but still took them at a light jog. “Hello,” she said, trying to hide the breathlessness in her voice as she landed on the top step. It was her first week of lessons, for Merlin’s sake. This boy, attractive as he was, should not be rendering her so flustered.

His fingers were still clicking even as he extended a hand towards her to shake. It seemed to take effort for him to still them before their hands slid together and she felt the smooth skin, slight callouses worked into them from past labor. Up close, she saw his long, regal nose (complete with a pink patch of sunburn across the bridge) and eyes the color of soft, melting chocolate swirled with honey. The comparison made her sweet tooth ache.

“Prewett, Leander Prewett,” he was saying, when she recovered herself enough to listen. Their hands were still interlocked for some reason.

“Leander?” she asked dumbly.

“That’s right.” He gave her a shy and sheepish grin. “My mother says it means ‘lion man’. Destined to be in ol’ Godric’s care since the day I was born, I suppose.” His voice was deep and even, the prim and polished accent floating gracefully past her ear.

Prewett led her through the maze of doors and staircases that took them to greenhouse 5, which housed the more volatile plants. The “toothy ones”, as Everett Clopton had informed her. A curious Venomous Tentacula reached for her shoulder as they passed it, but Leander gave a grunt and swatted it with the leather bag he carried. The toothy menace shrunk back into its pot dejectedly.

“He looks hungry, poor thing,” she giggled as they continued down the line of potting tables. Her guide snorted.

“Well, he’s not getting Shoulder of Young Lady for lunch today.”

She suppressed a smile at his words. Young lady. How very proper of him. She watched as he stopped before a potting table of some docile-looking cabbages. “Have a go,” he said. “They won’t start biting until they’ve been thrown, but act quickly. They can be…impatient.” He plucked a cabbage up from the table and handed it to her gingerly. Her tingling nerves proved a valuable asset, the adrenaline coursing through her since she’d lain eyes on Leander giving her the clarity she needed to chuck the cabbage square at the practice dummy in the corner of the greenhouse. They both stepped back when the cabbage ricocheted off the dummy a few meters toward them, and Leander’s hand slipped instinctively over her forearm, holding her there.

She could hardly pay attention to the dummy’s demise. The cabbage bared its fangs and launched itself toward the mannequin, slamming it to the floor and ripping every bit of material it could off its surface, but all she could think about was the way Leander’s long fingers were wrapped around her arm, applying light pressure. He looked down at where they were joined and relinquished her with a start, seeming surprised by his own actions. A pang of disappointment nicked her.

“Can’t be too careful with those devils,” Leander said. He moved behind her and began fussing with an empty pot, his fingers clicking once again. She was certain she liked him. Screw it being only the first week of classes.

Courage built up in her throat until she heard herself asking, “Prewett, would you like to take me to Hogsmeade this weekend? I have to go buy some new books and robes, and I’m afraid I’ll get horribly lost with no one to direct me.” She felt around and shoved the detailed map of Hogsmeade Professor Weasley had given her deeper into her bag.

Leander’s head snapped up, eyes the size of dinner plates. He stuttered for eleven seconds, brushing dirt off his hands and looking everywhere except at her. When he finally regained the ability to talk, he spluttered, “Er, um, I don’t get out much and…um, well, you’d probably do better with someone better-traveled…” Her brow furrowed as he continued his rambling. “I could introduce you to Natsai Onai, she’s a wonderful guide, or, uh–my friend Garreth might be helpful…”

Professor Garlick stuck her head in the doorway and called to them from the top of the steps. “How did you fare with the cabbages, my little seedlings?” Leander may as well have disapparated with the speed he tore out of the greenhouse.

He threw a hasty “It went very well, professor!” over his shoulder as he disappeared out into the Hogwarts grounds. The witch he had left behind looked with frustration after him. Professor Garlick seemed not to notice as she floated down the stairs, cooing at every plant she passed and rubbing the occasional leaf between her fingers lovingly. She patted the remaining Chomping Cabbages on the potting table.

“I’m so glad you were able to master the cabbage, dear,” she sighed. “They can be some of my more fickle kodomo, but I hear you’ve risen to meet every challenge Hogwarts has to offer!”

Her student stammered something at her, thanked her for the day’s lecture, and ran from the classroom, hoping to catch Prewett by his collar and ask him why he’d been so reluctant to walk with her to the wizarding hamlet. She’d seen the way he looked at her when they shook hands, and the way his hand had slid so perfectly around her, protecting her on instinct; he was interested in her, at the very least.

And she was growing more interested in him with every step she gained on him, the back of his freckled neck coming into view more and more as she trotted across the courtyard and followed him into the central hall. He walked toward the stairs, but veered off course to the left suddenly and instead ducked under them, throwing his bag down and scrubbing his hands over his face. She walked over to him, determination setting a line in her brow.

“Prewett! What was that?!” she demanded. Leander jumped and backed away from her like she was the very plant they’d been wrangling moments ago. “I don’t bite!” Her voice softened when she saw the terrified expression on his face. She wondered if maybe she’d misread all of this from the beginning. He certainly didn’t look very interested in her. “I just wanted to get to know you a little better, that’s all.”

Leander swallowed thickly and looked side-to-side for an escape route. None that didn’t involve trampling the witch with crossed arms presented themselves. “Oh! Oh, well, I suppose I could assist you, then,” he said, his shoulders starting to relax as a smile spread across her face. “What’d you think I wanted? For you to take me to a lovely dinner and then stargazing?” Even as she said it, her smile faltered for a second, because she realized that was precisely what she wanted. Prewett picked up his bag and they began walking together towards the Great Hall.

“No, nothing like that,” he mumbled back. His voice was strained and creaking.

Two years.

Two entire fucking years, and it still hadn’t sunk into the great, thick, egg-headed skull of Leander Prewett that she wanted him to kiss her. Luckily, the lure of the mistletoe in the Gryffindor common room was widely renowned as being impossible to resist, although that may have just been a rumor started by a certain Weasley who grew extra, er, restless during the run-up to winter exams.

Prewett’s face swam in and out of her vision, the firewhiskey-laden eggnog that kept the end-of-term Christmas festivities in full swing starting to take its hold on her brain. He was a lightweight, so after she’d snatched him by his shirt sleeve, muttering, “Let’s do the mistletoe, Prewett!”, the half a glass that he’d drunk was enough to have him following behind her with a bemused expression.

“What, like, kiss under it?” Leander queried as she stopped under the bundle of berries that was hung over the fireplace. His feet tripped, and she looked down to see that he was snapping his fingers. As always. She had learned that he did it constantly, no matter the situation. Trying to decide what to eat for dinner, trying to remember a particular Arithmancy formula, and especially when he was trying to pretend that he didn’t have a gargantuan crush on her.

After their first trip to Hogsmeade in fifth year, she had figured it all out very quickly: Prewett, for all his brains and his oftentimes too-loud mouth, staunchly believed that she would never fall for him. It was laughable. She’d fallen for him almost immediately after they’d met, and even if she hadn’t, his behavior over the next couple years had condemned her forever. Over the summers, they sent letters back and forth, and when she had included a doodle of herself that Cressida had scrawled on some parchment, he had slid it into the clasp of his leather bag. It was nearly shredded to tatters, but still there. During school, they spent every free moment they had together, and she had even shown Leander her Room of Requirement. He’d adored the comfortable retreat she’d made for herself, although his irrational fear of house-elves (confessed to her after one-too-many butterbeers: “They just make me nervous!!”) made him steer far clear of sweet Deek. Still, it did not occur to him that she liked him.

His ignorance had started causing big problems for her in the middle of sixth year. One night, after an intense but friendly Quidditch match among a few of their classmates, Leander entered the nook of the library where she was studying. She looked up, ready to bemoan the existence of Ancient Runes with him, but the words died in her throat when she saw the thin shirt he had worn to the game, stuck to every inch of his torso with sweat. Her quill tumbled from her fingertips as she took in his slicked hair and pink cheeks. Imagining what his body looked like under his layers of stuffy jumpers and starched collars had not prepared her in the slightest for the real thing.

“God…damn, Prewett,” she had whispered. “Where have you been hiding all that?” Her eyes were shamelessly raking over his lean frame.

Leander scoffed and said, “I know, I really need a shower.”

Still, it did not occur to him that she liked him.

And then, when she fell in love with him, the situation became really dire. No matter how many times she told him, it always fell on deaf, dumb, and blind ears. She may as well have been telling the Chinese Chomping Cabbages that she loved them.

“Lee, I think you’re so wonderful. You’re smart and sweet and I–I really love you.”

“Oh, that’s so kind of you. I’m sure you’ll meet someone soon.”

His stubborn refusal to believe that she could actually care for someone like him drove her insane at the same time it drove her deeper in love with him. The clueless looks he gave her when she would tuck herself in close to him during Quidditch matches and his protestations that there had to be someone better that she could be spending time with during the weekends were so adorable, that if she hadn’t been so desperate for him to finally kiss her, she would have allowed them to continue.

“Ugh. Obviously to kiss me. And they say you’re smart for a Gryffindor.” Leander opened his mouth to object in indignation, but she giggled and tugged him by his tie to her mouth.

“W-b–!” Leander got two small sounds out before their lips were pressed together, and the sound that escaped him then almost made her knees buckle. Half-yelp and half-growl, years of pent-up desire leaked out of him and flowed over her. She dropped his tie and raked her hands through his hair, kissing the absolute fuck out of this clueless, gangly bastard. Leander didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, so he placed them gently on her shoulders, as if she was made of glass. She was not.

She grabbed his hands and slid them down to her waist, where he eagerly grabbed her jumper and tugged it closer to him. Their chests bumped together, and she thought her heart might burst. His lips against hers felt like finally, like every minute wasted flirting with this boy was very much worth it.

When they broke apart, Leander stepped away from her, arms straight down at his side, and said in a monotone, “That was nice. See you when term starts back up.” He tried to flee up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, but she whipped out her wand, pointed it at his back, and growled “Accio!” He came skidding back across the floor to her, bumping a few party-goers but not causing much of a ruckus compared to the gobstones match that had just broken out between Garreth and Natty, two generous shots of firewhiskey in store for the loser. She caught him by the back of his collar. His neck was practically steaming.

“Are you really this dense?”

“Who, me?” he stammered.

“Yeah, you.”

“About what?”

She screamed in frustration and dropped his collar. “Leander, do you have feelings for me?” she asked, her voice muffled from burying her face in her hands. It was going to take a troll to beat this concept into her hapless darling.

“Of course!” Leander melted. He looked like he’d just been told he needed to defeat a Norwegian Ridgeback using only a stick. “You’re my favorite person in the entire world…I adore you!”

“As a friend, or as more?”

Red, from top to toe. “Well, I mean-uh…hmmm…”

“Because I love you, you dolt. Hopelessly. And I don’t know what it will take to convince you of this.”

He chewed his bottom lip in a very distracting way, and she considered giving up for the moment and resuming this discussion later in favor of dragging him back under the mistletoe. She watched as the rusty gears in his brain cranked and grinded against each other, clanking into place with one final THUD as his eyes widened.

“You want to…be with me.” She threw her hands in the air with a cry of mock joy and relief. "Blinder than Ominis Gaunt, you are!" The party was still raging around them, but no one seemed to be paying attention to their little tableau, save for a more-than-a-little tipsy Imelda Reyes, who passed by them and smirked, “Looks like Prewett’s finally gonna get laid and relax a little bit.”

The comment made Leander splutter in indignation, momentarily distracting him from the crisis happening in his mind. “Imelda! Shut–”

“Prewett,” growled the witch who was still waiting to hear what he had to say about her confession of undying love.

“Oh! Right! I…um…” Leander rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and gave three short, subtle snaps with the other. Finally, he sighed. “You’re just…you’re too perfect for me. You deserve so much–”

She cut him off by threading her fingers back into his hair and mumbling, “I deserve you,” before kissing him once more. The kiss was even better this time, Leander having recovered his wits enough to push at her lips with his tongue and slide it over hers. She groaned and began undoing his tie while also pushing him back up against the brick wall next to the fireplace. His hands stroked through her hair like she was a precious artifact that he couldn’t believe he was privileged enough to view.

They broke apart to gasp for air and Leander hazily said, “Fuck! You’re, I’m sorry, you’re just so pretty!” Leander never swore. Even when he hit his toe on the same coffee table every morning in the common room. The obscenity falling from his proper lips made something inside her gut twist, and when she realized why he was apologizing, it twisted even tighter.

Leander Prewett was hard, very hard, for her. She had been shamelessly grinding against him as they kissed without even realizing it, and he was now sporting a very obvious erection. The brown trousers he was wearing did little to conceal it as well. When he saw her staring, agog, at his groin, he colored and tried to cover it with his hand. “It’s just an accident,” he stammered, but she swatted his hands away and kissed him sloppily.

“It better not be,” she whispered into his mouth, and he honest-to-Merlin whimpered as her hand slid down to replace his and palmed him over his pants. “It better be all for me.”

“It is, it is,” he promised, panting to maintain his composure while she stroked him up and down. They were tucked away, but not nearly enough for her liking. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, tugging him behind her as she wove through the crowd of people cheering for either Natty or Garreth (though, most cheers were for Natty; she had Garreth dead to rights and his sweaty forehead indicated that he knew he was about to stink for the rest of the night) and through the portrait door.

“Where are you two off to at such an hour?” clucked the Fat Lady indignantly. The noise from the party had jostled her awake when her portrait swung open, and she looked very disgruntled. They paid no mind to her, taking off down the hallway.

“Where are we off to?” Leander demanded, still trailing behind her as they rounded a corner and took a staircase down to the ground floor.

She smirked to herself and paused for a moment to press him against yet another wall and snog him with abandon. Part of her worried vaguely that she was growing addicted to the little sounds he made every time their lips touched. He was getting bolder and bolder with each kiss, and this time he actually flipped her around so her back was to the wall. Then, he slid his hands up the front of her sweater and began softly kneading one of her breasts, a delighted sigh leaking into the kiss.

“Prewett,” she breathed, hardly able to believe that this was the same boy who insisted on covering his eyes until she had jumped into the Black Lake for a spring-time swim, so as not to see her in her bathing costume. His fingers were groping her greedily, lips trailing down from her mouth to her neck. “I’ve wanted this for so long, I…”

He hushed her gently, and she saw that his honey-brown eyes were fixed on her with an overwhelming fondness. “I can’t believe you want me,” he whispered, almost in reverence. “I’ve dreamed about you every night since we met. It just doesn’t seem real.” “And all those times I told you how fit you were? How much I loved you?” She couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows and poke him in his, fuck, his surprisingly taught stomach. An abdomen like that could prove very useful for the plans swirling in her head. “That was, what, just friends being friends?” Not for the first time that night and almost certainly not for the last, he blushed. “Well, I didn’t know! Why would anyone like you love someone like me?” He smiled and went in for another kiss, but his words, meant in jest though they were, made her hold up a hand to his chest to stop him.

“Don’t say that, Lee. Please. You’re everything to me.”

He moaned, and leaned back into her. The kiss was much slower this time, sensual and sweet, and she felt adoration pouring from his mouth. It had all been worth it, all the time spent wondering if he’d ever see her the way she saw him. They were alone now and they were wrapped around each other and she never wanted it to end.

Laughter came floating down from the floor above them and they both looked up to where it came from. Word circulated fast at Hogwarts, especially when it involved two students devouring each other in a hallway after lights out. She bit her lip, but a perfect idea occurred to her quickly. She quirked an eyebrow at Leander.

“Remember that room I showed you in the Astronomy wing?”

When they tumbled through the Room of Requirement door, various articles of clothing hanging off them and hair very disheveled, she was almost mortified to see that all the potting tables and potions station that she had carefully arranged in the center of the marble floor had vanished, and a massive four-poster bed rested against the wall opposite the lower vivarium. Almost.

“Well, that’s convenient, hm?” Leander asked with a cheeky grin, but she was already pushing him down onto the bed and ripping off the white undershirt he still had on (his jumper had long since been lost in some corridor or other). His trousers came next, but as she set about unbuttoning them, he sat up on his elbows and called to her softly. She looked up.

“Have you ever…done this before?” he asked, gentleness in every word. The truth and a lie that could save her some embarrassment tussled in her head for a moment, but the truth won out. She knew Leander would never make her feel ashamed for anything, no matter how trivial.

She shook her head. Her hair tumbled loose around her face, having been pulled out of its twist by his desperate fingers somewhere around the Potions classroom. “No, I…” Despite her effort to not feel awkward, the words caught in her throat, suddenly thick. “I wanted it to be with you.” She had never heard her own voice so small, so vulnerable. Chancing a glance up at Leander, she saw with surprise that he was beaming, eyes bright and glassy with love.

His deep voice choked a little bit as well as he said, “Me too.”

If she hadn’t known his character before this, known what an utter gentleman he was to the core, she would have accused him of blatantly lying. When he slid two fingers into her and moved them with agonizing precision and grace in and out, ghosting the bundle of nerves that set her body ablaze, she threw her head back and cried, “How are you so amazing at this?!”

Leander looked up, his lip caught between his teeth in concentration as he watched his fingers disappear inside her and reappear covered in her slick. “There are, er…” He cleared his throat and dug the fingers of his free hand into her thigh, heightening the sensation further. “There are certain books that one can–can read to…research…?” He trailed off and tried to distract her by moving himself between her spread legs to kiss her moans away. Merlin, this man was too delicious.

All their clothing lay discarded on the ground next to the bed. She silently thanked the god that must have presided over the Room of Requirement for knowing implicitly that not only did she desire a bed, but silk sheets that wrapped around their bodies like cool water. Leander kept up his ministrations with his hand, alternating between fucking her and rubbing her clit in tight circles, until a sun burst behind her eyelids and she screamed his name until he clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Fuck, come on, darling! Someone will hear us!” He was holding himself over her, panting from the pleasure of having made her come with spectacular enthusiasm, red hair falling into his eyes. Looking every inch like a well-versed practitioner of the sensual arts, instead of her friend who, just an hour ago, had thanked her politely for kissing him. She tried her hardest to form words, but he’d well and truly fucked them out of her.

Her head lolled on her neck as she mumbled something like “Can’t hear anythin’ in here” from behind his hand.

“Oh.” Leander withdrew his hand from her mouth, then cocked his head to one side, regarding her beneath him with curiosity. “So I could hear you scream my name like that all night, if I wanted to?”

She had wanted her first time to be with Leander, not just because she was in love with him, but because she knew he would be soft with her. And, bless him, he really was trying to be. But the look on his face when he finally placed his hands under her backside, lifting her hips flush with his and slid into her for the first time, was unrestrained hedonism. His brows knit together and a strangled groan fought its way out of him. “Oh my–Shit! Shit, shit, shit, fuck, you feel too goddamn good,” he moaned. The pressure of his cock splitting her open for the first time stung at first, and she winced until her body had relaxed. But then it did, and it was indescribable.

“Oh, God, Lee,” she whispered, her hands flying to his back and raking her nails down the lean muscles there as he pushed his hips forward ever-so-gently.

“Does it hurt?” he asked hurriedly. He stilled his hips and she grunted in frustration and smacked him. She emphatically reassured him that it did not hurt, and he took her words, for the first time in perhaps their entire friendship, at face value.

Leander Prewett fucks like a god, she thought, lost in a dreamy haze, as he began railing her with so much determination that she couldn’t believe it really was Leander Prewett doing this to her. His cock was so long, she felt it brush up against her limit and gasped at the strange feeling. “What is it?” he demanded again. “Hurt–?” “It doesn’t hurt, baby, I swear!” she moaned. “Just keep going, God, just like that!”

Leander smirked, readjusting his arms to brace himself against the mattress on either side of her shoulders. “Bossy.”

“Shut up!” “That’s my girl,” he muttered, and dipped down to kiss her. Their lips melded together and she thought she might swoon. Her fingers crawled down his back to his ass and she dug her fingers in the supple skin, pulling him more flush to her cunt so he was hitting a new angle and pulling a precious little “Ah!” from him as he slipped off one arm momentarily. He righted himself, using his right hand to apply pressure to her clit and making her back arch off the bed.

She did, in fact, scream his name as she came again, and the shit-eating grin on his face, which was now glowing with desire and confidence, made her heart soar. This boy really believed that she loved him; it was etched in every inch of him.

“Did you–d-did you finish?” he panted. She would have rolled her eyes if she hadn’t just experienced a small ego-death from the orgasm he gave her.

“Of course I did, asshole.” He was still pounding relentlessly into her, chasing his own peak now like a bloodhound on a scent.

“Good. F-fuck, darling, I…I love you so much,” he said, and a gasp escaped her despite herself. He’d actually said it. She knew what it meant for the real Leander, restrained and proper and nervous, to say that. He didn’t say things without thinking them through, sometimes for years. The fact that it had taken this sexed-up, seductive, and unchained Leander to come out and say it was really just a bonus.

“Let go for me, Lee,” she murmured and planted a kiss on his forehead. He groaned and slammed into her two more times, cumming hard on the second and releasing inside her. Their foreheads pressed together and sweat mingled between them as they both panted down from their releases.

Suddenly, Leander flew back, eyes wild. “Oh, no, shit–a baby?!” He babbled incoherently for several seconds before she realized what he was on about and quieted him with a little laugh.

“No, Lee, it’s alright!” she assured, delighted to no end by the way she could see the responsibility of fatherhood settling onto his poor, sweet, stupid eighteen-year-old shoulders. “I have a charm on.” She pointed to the necklace with the amethyst stone set at the center that hung around her neck. His back drooped in relief and he rolled to the side.

“Thank goodness. I adore you, but I think we ought to wait a few more years to start a family,” he said matter-of-factly. A laugh bubbled up inside her.

“Only a few years?”

Leander blushed, but rolled over on one elbow to kiss a tantalizing trail from her jaw to her ear, and suddenly, he didn’t seem so funny anymore. “Well, with how much I’m planning to fuck you now that you’re mine, I’d really be surprised if it’s not sooner.”

Oh.

She hid her growing arousal by nervously giggling, “‘Fuck me’? Leander Prewett, you used to be a gentleman.” He paid her no mind, moving down to her breasts to kiss and leave dark love bites down them.

“Mm, the woman I love brings out the worst behavior in me, it appears.”

masterlist

#ten pts to gryffindor 4 whoever caught the garlick/kogawa propaganda that jas put in my head!!!#also if u caught me putting eddie redmayne in the header NO U DIDNT!!!!!#hes the perfect aged up leander argue with the wall #leander prewett fic #hogwarts legacy fic #leander prewett x reader #hogwarts legacy smut #leander prewett smut #laneywrites

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