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stevebabey · 1 year

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another one! 📽 📽

imagine it’s summer and it’s hot and the sun is so toasty on your skin and steve feels restless and spontaneous so he suggests you go on a drive so you pack some driving snacks and hit the road. it somehow ends with you and steve at lovers lake (or a less traumatic lake for him poor lad lol) and y’all go for a dip, in your underwear or maybe, ya know, a lil skinny dipping shenanigans are in your future 😉 *in the summertime by mungo jerry plays*

okay ily ruby have fun and again congrats girl!!! xoxo

mmmmm we all deserve summertime steve for fuckin real obsessed with the vibes you have created in the studio today maddie ur brain so delicio 🌊 yet again, i cannot shut up for the life of me <3 i want to go swchimming w him so bad fr he’s such a summer bf

it’ll have been one of those sweltering nights where even the sheets feel too much and come morning, not one ounce of you wants to stay in bed and cuddle like you normally do because it’s stinkin’ hot and you’re fairly certain steve is already sweating lightly just pressed next to you— you tell him as much when he tries to sleepily cuddle you in closer, giving him a pout and a “s’too warm, stevie :(“ and steve can’t even disagree, he’s burning up in the heat of the sun through your windows - but there’s also a glimpse of blue blue sky stretching out endlessly, which means opportunity !

so he flops back, relents the space and stares at the ceiling while u stare at him, just observing him lovingly, counting every mole <3 he takes a minute of quiet contemplation, during which your back manages to get completely heated, pressed against the mattress, and you’re bout to complain bout it again when he blows a raspberry and turns his head to face you. “d’ya wanna go for a drive? :) nd maybe a swim?” and god, if that doesn’t sound like heaven- you’re nodding along before you even open your mouth but also, u gotta check in with him “you sure ya wanna swim, stevie?” and his eyes search your face for a moment, thinking about it properly, before he nods, a grateful smile pulling at his lips, “yeah, honey, we’ll drive outta hawkins to find a good spot- sound okay?”

overtop your swimsuit, you pick a nice pair of daisy-dukes that definitely catch steve’s eye for an extra second and you grin, having to shoo him into getting ready— and you meet him down in his car, rolling the windows down to combat the sun that’s letting out blistering hot heatwaves, making u long for a popsicle or anything icy really. steve’s out a couple minutes later, two towels over his shoulders and a— you sit up a bit straighter, spotting the picnic basket in his hands!!! he calls forward as he opens the trunk to put stuff in, “i thought we could have some snacks! make a lil picnic date of it!” and you chest bursts with warmth and love for him and you literally can’t say anything except, “you’re sorta incredible, steve harrington” and it’s just the thing to say to get that flushed colour on his cheeks that has nothing to do with the heat and all to do with what you do to him.

driving along, you desperately wish you had a camera if only to capture the image of steve beside you, windows down, the breeze ruffling his hair and the collar of his shirt which is unbuttoned dangerously low. you can see the thatch of chest hair against his tan chest, his collarbones that are honestly begging for a lovebite or maybe ten, those classic cool glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. you’re fairly certain you could look at him like this for hours- and he seems to return the sentiment fully, spending the drive torn between glancing at you in the passenger seat — one hand curled over your thigh, fingers drumming, and a happy grin on his face — and his eyes on the open road that takes you out of hawkins. the warm wind whips in through the windows and blankets you both in the glow of summer :)

steve ends up finding a nice swimming hole, 20 minutes out of hawkins, that’s part of one big river winding through the countryside. it’s busy, people swarming around the water like ants to honey, but that’s to be expected in the the heat of summer. you nd steve both instinctively steer clear of the crowd, wandering further up stream to see if you can find a sweet lil bay for just the two of you— and you manage to find another sweet lil spot that’s empty besides from you two and steve declares himself king of the beach, planting the picnic basket like a flag.

the heat is infinitely worse out of the car, without any wind to cool you off, and the trickling sounds of the river might be your greatest temptation, besides your boyfriend who’s wasted no time in tugging his shirt up and over his head. the sight of him in just those small swimming shorts, tan hairy thighs on display, might just rival the river for your attention. the water in the river moves about sluggishly, swirling around itself in a syrupy motion, and you know it’s about to be the best cool off of your life- you follow steve’s motions and shed off your shorts and shirt in record speed

steve’s already waiting for you in the shallows, water sloshing around his ankles noisily, and looking back at you he can’t resist the urge to let a little whistle when you drop your shorts — it earns him an endeared eye-roll that only makes his grin a little wider, his hand planting on his hips, “just enjoying the view, don’t mind me” so you take that as your cue to take off, feet splashing in the shallow water and you’re diving in without a moments hesitation— it’s freezing and the sensation of it zings every nerve til you’re unable to do anything but grin and curse when you come up because fuck, it’s cold. it’s fantastically cold.

steve’s still waiting in the shallows, that familiar smitten expression on his face as he watches you gasp at the temperature change and push back your soaked hair from your face, spin to look for him and grin wider when he comes into view. you paddle back in his direction, shaking off the droplets that collect at your chin. your feet find the bottom of the riverbed and you stand, against the push of the river, and hold out your hands for him, trying to coax him in to join you in the deeper parts of the river. because you know, it’s always a bit hard after everything, entering water again — you can still see the twisted up skin that stretches up his sides, faded with time, but a memory etched into his skin all the same.

steve takes a step out towards you, then another, then pauses and his eyes scour the water all around you— his expression already falling away to concern. you can sense his mothering sense rising up and try to quell it before he can voice any anxieties, “eyes on me, stevie” you say, with a wry grin and make grabby hands at him, encouraging him more- you can see the quick inhale he does before he pushes forward, eyes focused on you, your loving grin, your inviting hands, and he doesn’t stop til he can grab them with his own. you’re pushing off the riverbed instantly, legs up and around his waist and shifting so your hands circle around his neck, sweet murmurs about how you’re proud of him til steve is warm enough in the face that he simply has to dunk to both of you, his mischievous grin giving you warning just a second too late

you’re gasping, coughing just a bit when he pulls you both back up and you smack him in the chest— “you bastard! you- i can’t believe you—“ and when he sinks his knees a little deeper, you change your tone quick, clambering closer to him, “don’t you dare, steve, i swear, if you want remain in a loving relationship you will—” “gimme a kiss,” he interrupts and your head snaps from watching the cool water swirl around you to his face and he’s grinning, completely serious, his hands on your waist pulling you closer til he’s nosing along the damp plane of your neck, mumbling into it “kiss or get dunked. that’s the deal, sweetheart,” and then he presses a hot kiss under your jaw and pulls back to wait for you to make a decision. you sigh real heavy like it’s a chore, hanging your head back as you pretend to think about it with a loud “hmmmm” til you’re about sure he’s gonna dunk you again. your thighs tighten and you pull yourself up with your grip around his neck and give him exactly what he asked for :) then u guys eat ur picnic and it’s the perfect lil summertime date :) this is too long my god

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irkimatsu · 3 months

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Filling a request for @christinaatyourservice92! She requested a Husk x Reader where Reader "cleans up nicely", so to speak.

Husk/Reader, featuring Angel as an enthusiastic wingman. Some other characters kind of exist I guess. Reader is wearing a dress but otherwise their gender isn't specified; we're friendly to mascs in dresses here. Nothing further than dancing and kissing, anything with Husk is going to be a slowburn. But I love a good slowburn.

I'm still new to this fandom and haven't written most of these characters at all before, so please be patient with me! And feel free to send requests; I can't promise to have something for all of them, but who knows what could happen if you strike my fancy! (Probably only answering Husk related ones for now, though. Fuck I love Husk. Give me some Husk time for a bit. Husk... ahem.)

A ball wasn’t the worst bonding idea that Charlie ever had.

Granted, calling whatever was going on in the lobby of the hotel a “ball” was a bit of an overstatement. There weren’t that many guests, for one thing; the hotel didn’t have enough people for that, even including the employees. The decorations were set up quickly and cheaply, making the whole thing look more like a child’s birthday party. Entertainment was provided by Alastor, who stood off to the side and played instrumental ragtime music through his staff, presumably wondering what kind of nonsense this whole affair would lead to.

It had already led to Niffty dancing through the lobby with a “partner” made of bug carcasses, dust bunnies, and assorted other unmentionables, so that was a start.

Husk didn’t have to put in any sort of effort for this mess, but something had inspired him to clean himself up for once. He’d changed into a full suit and forgone the top hat, and he stood by the tables gently sipping a glass of red wine instead of chugging whiskey like it was a water bottle.

Angel, of course, noticed the discrepancy.

“Ooh, lookit you, all fancy,” he remarked as he took a spot beside Husk. Angel wasn’t too keen on the whole event, but he’d taken the opportunity to dress up in a nice skirt and wig, not one to waste a chance to play with his appearance. He certainly wasn’t giving up the chance to show off his legs, given how short his skirt was. “What’s the occasion?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Husk asked. “Not like I’m the only one dressed up.”

“Yeah, but I was born to look good. I ain’t showing up to even the shittiest party without showing off what I got! You, on the other hand, look uncomfortable.”

“It’s these wings,” Husk said. “It’s so damn hard to find a shirt that fits ‘em.”

“So why not take the shirt off?” Angel suggested, sing-songy tone confirming that he knew exactly how that sounded. Husk merely smiled and rolled his eyes at his friend’s sense of humor.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Husk asked.

“Ohhhhh.” Angel chuckled. “Ohhhh, I see what this is about…”

“Have you seen them?” Husk responded, his expression not changing.

“Someone like them at a ball? Uh-uh, ain’t no way they’re comin’ down here. You know they’re too much of a recluse for this fancy dress-up business.”

“You really think so…?”

“Aw, what’s got you lookin’ so down, Whiskers?”

Husk ignored Angel for another sip of wine, his desire to maintain some semblance of class preventing him from downing it as quickly as he’d like.

“Right. Be right back.”

“You better not be thinking about what I think you are!” Husk called after Angel as he walked away, but Angel didn’t respond.

—

You’re not going down there. You are not going down there. Not in this.

It’s not like it’s a revealing outfit or anything. It’s just a frilly, floor-length red dress. You’d picked it up when Charlie first announced the ball, fully intending to wear it that evening.

This is the first time you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror while wearing it, and the mirror is doing nothing to convince you to leave the room in this thing.

Even when you were alive, you were never particularly feminine; being feminine required being cute, and that just wasn’t something you were ever comfortable considering yourself as. Your appearance became even less of a concern after you died, with clothing being more of a suggestion than anything else. But a formal occasion sounded like the perfect chance to change that status quo.

What a stupid idea that was.

“Hey, Toots!” That voice along with three simultaneous knocks could only be one person. “You comin’ downstairs?”

“I’m fine! Thanks!” you call back without another thought. Why couldn’t you have gotten a nice outfit that was more gender neutral? Maybe you could change to your plain clothes and join the party that way…

But you know his tastes, and he might be disappointed to see you showing up for what’s supposed to be a major event in casual streetwear…

Better off not risking it.

“Aw, but it’s borin’!” Angel called from the other side of the door. “We could use some company down there!”

“Go ahead without me!” you assured Angel, preparing to change out of the dress and spend the evening to yourself in your room.

“But Husk wants to see you!”

The sound of his name makes you freeze.

It’s not a surprise that he wants to see you, really. You two have been getting along well, talking about your shared appreciation for music and the performing arts. Even the other members of the hotel have commented that Husk never softens quite as much as when you show an interest in his stories of his days as a performer in Vegas. He really does seem to like spending time with you.

But to hear it spoken out loud…

“You okay in there?”

You slowly open the door to see Angel standing there. At least you don’t need to worry about being overdressed; Angel’s got you beat in that department. He’s always impressed you with how he can take an outfit that should be so, so tacky on paper and yet make it work.

His eyes widen at the sight of you, and he lets out a whistle. “Well, damn. You in a dress. Never thought it’d happen.”

“I look stupid,” you mutter, holding your upper arm as you turn your head away. “I have no idea how to wear this thing…”

Angel scoffs. “You kiddin’? Look at me, honey. You know the types of people I hang out with, and let me tell ya, there is no one who can’t pull off a dress if they wanna.”

“Do you think Husk will like it?”

Angel laughs, and you immediately regret letting those words escape your mouth.

“Um, not that I… it’s just, he went to parties like this all the time, right? When he was alive, and when he was an Overlord, so he knows what people are supposed to wear… we’ve been getting along, but it might look bad if I’m underdressed…”

“You could go down there in a brown paper bag, and ol’ kitty cat down there would still be staring at you,” Angel assures you.

“Are you sure…?”

“Jesus Christ, you two are clueless.” He takes your hand in two of his and starts tugging you toward the stairs. “C’mon. You’re gonna go give Husk something to do besides finish off the wine all by himself.”

—

The reaction you get when you reach the lobby is less than you expected. Charlie’s happy to greet you, which you appreciate, but hers wasn’t the reaction you were looking for.

The only reaction you get from Husk is a briefly surprised glance before he turns away to refill his wine.

Is that really it…?

Angel must be equally unimpressed with the response. He storms over to Husk, and while you can’t really hear the conversation, you can see that it involves a lot of arm flailing from Angel and tail lashing from Husk.

The only phrase you can pick out is Angel saying, “Well, forgive me for trying to get you some-”

Should you go back upstairs? Husk doesn’t seem as happy to see you as Angel implied he would, and all you’re doing down here is standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. While you try to decide whether to run off and never think of this again, you notice Angel approach Alastor. He’s talking to Alastor with the same animated arm motions, while Alastor listens on in mild amusement. As Angel walks away, Alastor rolls his eyes and shakes his head, then gently taps his staff against the floor.

The bouncy ragtime music abruptly shifts to a downtempo jazz number.

Husk’s ears perk up at the sound, and as he looks up to figure out what’s going on, he locks eyes with you. You’re looking back at him, maintaining eye contact for far longer than he had when you first entered. He can’t just ignore you after that, can he?

Indeed, he can’t. Slowly, he walks toward you, uncertain at first but progressively gaining confidence. Angel flashes thumbs up signs that he can’t see behind him.

“Good evening,” he greets you, his deep voice so much more smooth than anything he’d shown as recently as thirty seconds ago. “You look nice tonight.”

“Thank you,” you respond, flashing your best smile. “You, too.”

Husk in a suit… you could get used to this.

His smile is surprisingly gentle when he does it without teeth. He holds out his paw. “Shall we dance?”

You take his paw in one hand, and he takes your other hand in his other paw. The two of you gently sway together, not making much contact, but even this proximity is making your chest pound. His confidence has grown considerably; he’s clearly used to things like this. He’s perfectly on rhythm, not holding your hands too loosely or tightly.

As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, he places a paw on your shoulder and pulls you close to him. You’re at a loss at what to do with your now free hand. It finds its way to his hip, and instantly your face starts heating. No, that’s way too much, way too quickly-

He doesn’t say anything about it. He only smiles.

Maybe it’s okay.

You stop focusing so much on where his hands are, or how he’s moving his feet. Your only concern is the gentle look he’s giving you as he dances with you, leading you in a perfect rhythm.

His arms have found their way around your waist at some point. You’re too lost in the moment to question it.

He whispers your name, and is it just you or is his face getting incredibly close? You raise a hand to stroke the fur on his cheek.

His lips are on yours, so chastely but they’re there, and you’re so floored by the action that you barely even register Angel whooping in the background. The kiss only lasts an instant, but you’re both a little more breathless now than when you started.

It’s the only time you kiss for now, but you spend much more time swaying together. You don’t know where one song ends and another begins; it’s only the underscore for one long dance, where the sliver of space between your bodies feels like a chasm.

No… not tonight. Not here. Not while they’re watching.

—

If it were up to you, that dance would have never ended… which is why it’s probably for the best that the sultry saxophone music abruptly changed to a loud swing number.

Alastor looks rather pleased with himself for the interruption.

You’d spend more time with Husk in the lobby, but not only is the music giving you a headache, but Angel keeps on staring at you with a raised eyebrow and a grin, and you don’t want any more time to think about what he’s theorizing in regards to your personal life.

“I wanna go back upstairs,” you tell Husk. Before he can look too disappointed, you then add, “You can come with me if you want.”

After you shout a good night at Charlie and Vaggie and Husk flicks a good-natured middle finger to the smirking Angel, the two of you head upstairs, and after some brief discussion, you agree to spend your time in Husk’s room. The two of you sit on the edge of his bed for a while as he shows you his collection of vinyls, and you discuss the possibility of the two of you possibly performing some of his favorite songs as a duet, with him on his saxophone and you singing.

“It’d be nice if we could sing together, too,” you say. “You have a really nice voice.”

The compliment flusters him enough that it takes him a moment to respond. “Maybe… but most of the duets I can sing are love songs.”

Now it’s your turn to blush, and it’s a lot more obvious on you than it is on him. You can’t hide the truth; you might as well say it out loud.

“I’d like singing a love song with you.”

Husk looks at the ceiling and smiles to himself, his thoughts elsewhere. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done a duet. Singing a love song with someone, and meaning every word of it… there’s nothing like it. I wouldn’t want to sing a duet like that with someone who doesn’t mean it.”

You snap him out of his daydream by placing your hand over his paw. “What about me? If I did mean it?”

He chuckles to himself. “You’d mean it? This soon? You just got here. We barely know each other.” Despite his words, he turns his paw around so he can hold your hand in return.

“You’re the one who kissed me down there,” you remind him.

“A single kiss isn’t love. Love takes time.” His body language doesn’t seem to be matching his words as he squeezes your hand. “It takes patience. Compromise. It’s not gonna fall into place easily. It’s easy to screw up… I’ve done it before.”

He’s looking at your face again, a once-unseen vulnerability in his eyes.

“...I don’t want to screw it up again. Not with you.”

“We can at least try.” You stroke his cheek again, now more focused than ever on the white hairs in his dark fur and the bags beneath his eyes. He’s been around for so long… he’s been hurt so many times.

If you could be the one to help him with that hurt…

You press your lips to his, and he accepts the kiss, holding it much longer than he did while you danced. He wraps his arms around you, not pulling you as closely as he could, but still letting you share in each others’ body heat.

It will take time, but you hope that someday, the two of you can sing that love song.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #uhhhh are there more tags. fuck there's so many #irk blubbers about nothing #irk huskposts

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