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pettyprocrastination · 2 years ago

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The Revenant Wife

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of grief and death.

Summary: Ellie knows very little of Joel and even less of the wife he had before the outbreak. When she finally meets you, its just as much as shock to her as it is to your husband.

Word count: 1.6k

Note: ficlet is based off of this previous post about Joel getting separated from his wife during the outbreak and assuming you died until you find one another years later. Reader is described to look like Sarah. Title came from the ever lovely @djarin-junk <3

Tagging those I think would enjoy: @pedrostories @thesadvampire @joel-mlller @softanon @max--phillips @captainsamwlsn @hooplahoopla @moondirti

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Ellie didn’t know that Joel had a wife.

Granted, she didn’t know much about his old life at all.

She knew he built things. That he had a brother named Tommy and a daughter named Sarah, but didn’t like to talk about the latter that much. In one fleeting conversation, full of mumbles as her eyes began to close while they rested under the night sky she heard him mention you but was far too gone to truly hear what he said. Nothing more than the vague rumble of his voice saying “my wife” before her eyes opened once more.

“You’re married?”

She asks with such incredulous shock it sounds more like “somebody married you?” but girls at her age hardly ever have filters.

“I was.”

There’s the same bristle in his throat and far off look in his eyes as when she first asked about his daughter. An open answer but one that carries enough unsaid to tell Ellie of your fate. To warn her that she should change the subject or simply shut her mouth and go to sleep before plucking his raw nerve one too many times until he snaps-

“What was she like?”

But Joel learned early on that Ellie wasn’t one to follow warnings.

“Kind.” His breath stutters. “But not a pushover- she didn’t take shit from anybody.” He stares up at the sky, feeling his chest grow tight and fingers twitch by his side until there’s a rustling, the girl next to him rolling over to face him and he turns to find Ellie peeking out from her sleeping bag with a smile.

Damn this girl.

“Not even from you?”

Joel scoffs. “Especially from me. The amount of times she gave me and Tommy and earful-” he shakes his head, Ellie watches a smile grow on his face in silence, as if worried she may frighten it away.

“Did she cook?”

Ellie thinks of the stories the older kids would tell her. The ones who remembered life before the Outbreak, who told her of freshly baked pies on weekend and fluffy pancakes in the morning.

Joel remembers the first time you tried to bake him a cake for his birthday back when he was sixteen. How he opened the door to your forlorn face and a store bought sheet cake in your hands because as your mother told him over the phone, you damn near burned the whole house down trying to bake for him as a surprise.

“From time to time.”

There was only so much she could get out of him before his voice became clipped and eyes full of an emotion she didn’t quite know the name of that he told her to get some rest. Leaving her with nothing to do but to stare at the sky and wonder about these stories in the shape of a woman who unveiled a little bit more about the mysterious man she traveled with.

Of all the silence and secrets that made up the man that protected her, she created stories to fill them. Stories of Joel Miller, husband, father, brother and badass contractor that everybody loved. Of his soldier brother, of his wife and their smiling daughter between them both.

In Ellie’s mind, you didn’t work.

But not in a ditzy lame way like some boring housewife. But just because you didn’t have to.

Joel said that everybody loved contractors so that means he probably got paid like, a ton of money to build stuff for people so you got to stay at home all day. Ellie imagined your house to be ginormous. Maybe Joel made it himself for you when you guys first got married. It was big enough that when Joel came home everyday he’d call out your name and it’d echo through the hall as you called him into the kitchen, where your daughter sat reading as you set dinner on the table. Sometimes you’d get upset if he came home late but then he’d kiss your cheek and you would roll your eyes but smile before you all sat down and ate as a family.

Ellie imagines Joel’s daughter, she wonders if Sarah looks more like her mother than her father.

Ellie wonders as the sleep takes over her body, if they could have been friends.

When it happens, months later after she’s come to think of Joel as something akin to family and he thinks of her as something he can’t say out loud just yet, she’s shocked. She’s face to face with a woman holding her at gunpoint that looks nothing like the smiling mother she dreamt of during cold nights.

You don’t match the stories Ellie made up in your head.

You’re mean.

No. Mean isn’t the right word.

Cold. Yes. you're very cold.

Ellie watches in shock as you ask where they're headed, gun focused on the center of her chest while the two boys at your side point their own at Joel, who has yet to speak.

She waits for him to answer, but he just stares at you in awe. The same man she’s seen kill and threaten to keep her safe day in and day out is rendered speechless until all he can do is utter your name and she realizes that he knows you. More than that, judging by the way he surrenders his gun to you with no fight, something she had never seen him do.

You lift your head to look at him, the brim of your hat raises just enough to clear the shadow cast over your face and Ellie can finally see your eyes and the snarl on your face.

You’re also very pretty.

“I won’t ask again.”

The two boys standing on either side of you have your eyes. Same color and intensity, narrowed into slits like guard dogs waiting for an order and Ellie sees the way Joel stares at them.

She wonders if Sarah had brothers.

“Out west.” He manages. “Takin’ her to her family.”

Your eyes move to her and she holds her hands higher in the air.

“That true?” “What?”

“Is he telling the truth?”

The taller one, Duke, she had heard you call him, had already ripped the bag from her back and emptied its contents onto the ground, she had nothing else to hide from you.

But then she sees something in your eyes. A concern for her that she hadn’t seen since Tess or Marlene.

And she understands.

“He’s telling the truth.” Ellie forces out.

You watch her for a moment and there’s a moment of panic where she thinks you can see right through her lie.

But then you lower your gun and jerk your head over your shoulder.

“C’mon.” is all you say before you begin to walk away. The boys gawk at you for a moment before you give them a look of warning and they follow in your step, occasionally casting glances behind them at Joel and Ellie who follow suit.

She’s quick to grab onto the sleeve of Joel’s jacket and pull with a harsh whisper as the other’s march forward.

“You know this psycho?”

Joel flinches at her voice as it pitches up. If any of you heard her, which he gathered you did because Ellie didn’t have an inside voice to save her fucking life, you didn’t care enough to react.

Ellie whispers his name again. Insistent and angry for answers but he just keeps looking forward. He can’t take his eyes off of you or the boys ahead and it fills her with worry but she doesn’t know why.

“She’s my wife.”

You lead them to a cottage. Its paint is chipping and the fence is reinforced with wiring around the perimeter but it looks like a home. She can vaguely hear the soft clucking of chickens nearby and there's a flash of fur behind the fence with a pair of pointed ears that duck away just as fast as she saw them.

Ellie has seen the remnants of homes before the outbreak. The plates still stacked in the sink and the jacket still hung up on the hook. A story telling a family that once lived within its walls and is now nothing more than memories that ghosts along its foundation.

But this one is real. It’s yours.

There is a rickety wooden table in the dining room. Each chair around it seems to have been brought from a different house and is varying shades of faded brown. You kick the leg of one and nod toward it.“Sit, both of you.”

Ellie looks to Joel before sitting. He follows suit, choosing the chair closest to her.

“I’m gonna get some bandages for that leg-”

Joel shifts forward. “I don’t need-”

“I wasn’t fucking asking, Joel.”

You’re not stronger than Joel, if she had to guess. You both look the same age, but she’s seen his strength, his violence, all done for her safety and knows if it came down to it, you might not win in a fight against him.

But at your order, he sits back in his chair.

You turn and set a shoulder on your son’s shoulder.

At least. She thinks he’s your son.

Softly spoken words are exchanged while the other keeps his eyes on Joel and his hand on his holster. The boy says something back in insistence, but you tilt your head and he nods.

“If either of them try moving or taking anything.” You offer them one final look over your shoulder before slipping out of the room. “Shoot them.”

They listen to your footsteps slowly retreat until there’s nothing but the subtle creak and groan of the wood floor beneath them. Ellie leans forward to look at Joel, setting her hands firmly on the dinner table in announcement.

“Dude-” The young girl breathes out. “Your wife is a bitch.”

#revenant wife tag #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #this is just a little blurb because I havent written in a hot minute #mostly from ellies third pov so i hope the sort of juvenile internal thoughts make sense #joels wife is a sort of scary badass gal with a lil farm #joel miller x female reader #@ the blogs who asked to be tagged but had zero header or age in their bio: do better #tumblr please dont rearrange the order of this again im BEGGING #not pictured in the fic: joel punching duke in the face and wrestling the gun from his hands before the other twin shows up followed by you #and now joel has to grapple with the fact that 1. his wife is alive 2. she had children 3. he just sucker punched his own kid

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crushribbons · 4 months ago

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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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