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yeahiveheardofbears-fics · 1 month ago

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Behind the Beaded Curtain

When you and Steve get stuck closing Family Video together, the usual banter takes a turn toward mischief—and maybe something more—when an empty store and a cart of VHS tapes lead to some questionable decisions. Between late-night chaos, awkward tension, and way too many adult films, Steve might finally figure out that sometimes, taking a chance is worth the risk.

hi guys! here's a little smut oneshot to hold you over till I post the next fic in my rewrite series! There is no use of Y/N and the 'you' mentioned is fem. I loosely based it off of my OC, Mac, but I tried not to be super descriptive so the X Reader girlies can get a little more immersed. This was just an idea that didn't make sense for my main fic, so i decided to write it as a oneshot. I'm goign to try and post my oneshots on this page as well as ao3! comments encouraged and I hope you enjoy.

enemies to friends to lovers, semi public sex, confressions, idiots in love word count: 13,619 TW: talk of porn, sex at work, body confidence issues, uh idk they fuck so if you don't like that i guess don't read it

REQUESTS ARE OPEN, IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLZ MESSAGE ME CAUSE I NEED INSPO <3

fic masterlist

read on ao3 or read below the cut:

The bell above the Family Video door jingled weakly, signaling the entrance of a customer. You leaned against the shelf you were restocking, the rough cardboard edges of a VHS cover pressed into your palm, watching Steve Harrington prop his feet up on the counter like he owned the place. His uniform vest clashing with his shirt, collar slightly rumpled, and his hair—perfect as ever—caught the light just so. You hated that he looked like he belonged in one of the cheesy rom-coms he was so bad at recommending to customers.

“Don’t strain yourself,” you called, sliding a copy of A Nightmare on Elm Street onto the shelf. “Wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle working too hard.”

Steve lazily swiveled the stool he was perched on, an easy grin spreading across his face. “It’s called delegating. You’re the one who offered to restock.”

You raised a brow, slapping another tape onto the shelf with a little more force than necessary. “You mean when you handed me the cart and said, ‘You’re better at this, anyway’? Yeah, real great teamwork.”

Robin appeared from one of the aisles, dragging a broom behind her and looking thoroughly unimpressed with both of you. “You know, it’s amazing you haven’t driven each other insane yet. You’re like two stray cats fighting over the same dumpster.”

Steve shot her an annoyed look, but you just smirked, leaning against the shelf with your arms crossed. “He’s not worth the energy,” you said, jerking your chin toward him. “I’d rather put my effort into alphabetizing the horror section for the third time this week.”

“Hey!” Steve pointed at you, his grin widening. “That’s because you have no taste. You keep shoving Gremlins into the comedy section.”

“It is a comedy,” you retorted, the hint of a challenge in your voice. “You’re the one who insists on putting it in horror.”

“Technically it’s a Christmas movie.” Robin interjected but you two were too into your usual banter to acknowledge her comment.

“It’s literally about monsters terrorizing a town,” he shot back, standing now, clearly ready for this argument.

“And it has a montage set to Christmas music,” you countered, stepping closer, refusing to back down. “Face it, Harrington. It’s a comedy, and your taste is basic.”

Robin watched the exchange with barely concealed amusement, resting her chin on the end of the broom handle. “This is how wars start, you know. One second it’s Gremlins, next thing you know, someone’s annexing the drama section.”

Steve ignored her, crossing his arms as he stared you down, his brown eyes sparkling with exasperation. “Oh, I’m basic? Says the girl who has a Misfits patch on her backpack like every other kid trying too hard to look edgy.”

You scoffed, stepping closer until you were almost nose to nose. “You wouldn’t know edgy if it bit you in the ass, Harrington.”

For a second, the room felt charged, like something was about to snap. Then Robin cleared her throat dramatically, cutting through the tension. “Okay, you two, this isn’t a cage match. Save it for the Halloween crowd this weekend.”

You stepped back, rolling your eyes as you returned to your cart of tapes. “Fine. I’ll let him live another day.”

Steve plopped back onto his stool, muttering under his breath but loud enough for you to hear, “You wish you could take me.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, already halfway down the aisle. “It wouldn’t even be a contest.”

“You know, for someone who spends most of her time glaring at customers, you’ve got a lot to say.”

“Somebody has to keep you on your toes,” you shot back, brushing your hands off and making your way toward the front. You flicked a stray strand of hair out of your face as you passed him. “Besides, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t charm every poor soul who comes in here. It’s starting to get embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Steve feigned offense, placing a hand on his chest. “I’ll have you know, plenty of customers appreciate a little charisma. You could try it sometime.”

“Charisma doesn’t mean flirting with everyone who rents ‘Sixteen Candles,’ Harrington.”

Robin let out a dramatic sigh, looking between the two of you. “I can’t decide if this is banter or foreplay, but either way, it’s exhausting.”

“Foreplay?” Steve sputtered, his cheeks flushing.

“God, no,” you said at the same time, shooting Robin a glare.

Robin laughed, leaning against the counter as Steve sighed, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. Somewhere behind the banter, in the dim light and popcorn butter air, the faintest trace of something real hung between the two of you—something neither of you was ready to admit, least of all to each other.

---

The last few hours of your shift crawled along, with Robin having said her goodbyes twenty minutes earlier and left you and Steve to close up. A post-dinner rush had left the place in chaos, with empty shelves and a mountain of returns now sitting on the counter. Steve, standing at the rewinder machine, was absently humming to himself as you finished putting away the last of your cart.

“Finally done,” you muttered to yourself, dusting your hands off. Just as you started to roll the empty cart back toward the counter, Steve sauntered over with a fresh pile of tapes, all rewound and stacked precariously.

“Perfect timing,” he said, grinning as he plopped them onto the top of your cart. “More work for you.”

Your eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as you stared at the offending pile. “You’re kidding me.”

“What? That’s the system!” he said defensively, his hands going to his hips. It was a classic Harrington move—half annoyed, half clueless.

“Your system sucks,” you shot back, pulling the tapes off the top and setting them on the counter. “And you’re helping.”

“I am helping,” he argued, gesturing to the now-empty rewinder. “I rewound the tapes. That’s like, ninety percent of the job.”

You snorted, grabbing the cart handle with more force than necessary and turning it toward the aisles. “Whatever. I’ll do it myself.”

Halfway to the shelves, you paused, an idea sparking as you glanced back at Steve, who was still standing there with his hands on his hips. “Actually…” you said, setting the cart brake and turning to face him fully.

Steve tilted his head, suspicious. “What?”

“You’re an athlete, right?” you said, your tone dripping with exaggerated innocence. “Former Mr. Cool Guy?”

He frowned. “I don’t like where this is going.”

You grinned, hoisting yourself onto the cart and sitting cross-legged on its flat surface, tapping the metal sides. “Put those skills to use and make this less boring. You push, I steer. I’ll call out the titles; you take me to the aisles.”

Steve’s mouth fell open, his brow furrowing. “Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

“This is dumb,” he said, shaking his head. “What if someone comes in?”

You leaned back, gesturing toward the door with a dramatic flourish. “Steve, it’s Wednesday. It’s 7 p.m. The only person walking through that door is someone too embarrassed to rent their adult movie during daylight hours. And if that happens, do you really want to help them?”

Steve opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed, throwing his hands up. “Fine. But if you fall off, I’m not taking you to the hospital.”

“Noted,” you said, grinning victoriously. “ I always wanted to bleed out in the comedy section anyway.”

With a reluctant groan, Steve walked around the cart and grabbed the handle. “What’s first?”

You picked up the first tape from the stack beside you, holding it up to squint at the title. “Raiders of the Lost Ark. Action-adventure, aisle three.”

“Roger that,” Steve said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he started to push the cart. It wobbled slightly, and you leaned forward to steady yourself, already laughing as he picked up speed.

“Faster, Harrington!” you called, pointing toward the aisle like you were commanding a ship. “Aisle three awaits!”

“This was a mistake,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. He slowed as you neared the correct aisle, and you held the tape out dramatically, like a torch.

“Here we are!” you declared. “Place the artifact on its rightful throne.”

Steve grabbed the tape from your hand, muttering something about your flair for the dramatic as he slid it onto the shelf. When he turned back to you, you were already holding up the next tape.

“Ready for the next one?” you asked, wiggling the VHS case.

Steve let out a long-suffering sigh but grabbed the cart handle again, a reluctant grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “This is going to be the longest close ever.”

“Yeah, but you’re having fun,” you teased.

He didn’t respond, but the way his lips twitched into a full smile as he started pushing again gave you all the answer you needed.

Steve pushed the cart into the Drama aisle, his grip on the handle loose as he rolled his eyes at your smug expression. You waved The Breakfast Club over your head like a trophy, already looking triumphant.

“Drama section, as requested,” he said, stopping with a slight flourish. “But I’m just saying… it could also go in Romance.”

You nearly fell off the cart from how hard you laughed. “Romance? That’s what you got out of it? You think it’s about Claire and Bender hooking up?”

Steve raised a brow, his hands moving to his hips in that classic, I’m about to defend myself stance. “What? No, that’s not all it’s about. But it is a part of it. Opposites attract, right?”

You tilted your head, grinning like you’d just been handed the perfect opportunity to roast him. “Oh, sure. Opposites attract. That’s definitely a trope worth rooting for,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Especially when it’s just code for ‘the weird girl has to completely change herself to be worth the jock’s attention.’”

Steve frowned, clearly thrown off. “You’re talking about the makeover thing?”

“Obviously,” you said, flopping dramatically against the back of the cart, the metal sides rattling under your weight. “She was perfectly fine as she was—better, even. Then suddenly she gets some preppy glow-up, and boom, Emilio Estevez notices her. It’s such crap.”

He was quiet for a beat, like he was actually chewing on your words. His lips pressed into a line, and then, unexpectedly, he nodded. “I mean… I agree with you. She looked out of place like that. It wasn’t really her.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his response. “Wait… you agree with me?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, shrugging. “I mean, she didn’t need all that. She was cooler before.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip. His tone wasn’t teasing or defensive—it was sincere. He looked at you with this genuine expression, like he actually cared about what you thought. The space between you suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, and the quiet made your skin prickle in a way you weren’t used to.

Then Steve broke the tension with a smirk, shifting back to lean casually against the handle of the cart. “So, what I’m hearing is… you must hate Grease too, huh? Sandy changes everything for Danny at the end. That must drive you nuts.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, sitting up straighter and gripping the sides of the cart like you were preparing for battle. “Oh, don’t get me started on Grease, Harrington.”

His grin widened, and he gestured with one hand for you to continue, clearly enjoying this way too much. “By all means, let it out. This should be good.”

You took a deep breath, ready to launch into a full tirade about the crime that was Sandy’s transformation, while Steve leaned against the cart, laughing softly under his breath before you’d even said a word.

---

Steve jiggled the lock on the front doors, pulling them to test if they were secure before flipping off the outside lights. The neon "OPEN" sign fizzled out with a soft hum, leaving the store bathed in the sterile glow of its overhead fluorescents. He sighed as he turned the "CLOSED" sign around and shot a glance your way.

You were standing at the counter, finishing up the register deposit you’d started early since the rush had ended hours ago. You hummed quietly to yourself, seemingly in a good mood, which was rare for a late-night shift.

“Got any costume ideas for Halloween?” you asked as you counted the last stack of bills. “Since we get to dress up here and all.”

Steve leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Robin and I are going as pirates,” he said, his voice flat. “Her idea.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Let me guess. She’s all excited, and you’re just going along with it because you have no spine?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, though there was a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “She’s got this whole ‘Captain Robin and First Mate Dingus’ bit planned. It’s exhausting.”

You snorted, finishing the deposit and closing the register drawer. “Well, I’m going as a devil. Simple, classic, but I gotta tone it down a little so Keith doesn’t spend the entire shift staring at my chest.”

Steve went stiff for a moment, muttering something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.

“What?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, straightening. “So, uh, are you done with that?”

“Just about,” you said, locking the deposit bag and setting it aside for the morning shift. Your eyes drifted to the cart in the middle of the store, still loaded with a few stray tapes. “Looks like we’re not done with that, though.”

Steve followed your gaze and sighed. “Oh, great. More cart rides.”

You grinned, hopping back onto the cart and gesturing for him to take the handle. “You’re the one who insisted on delegating, remember? Now push.”

With another sigh—this one more dramatic than the first—Steve complied, wheeling you toward the horror section. You rifled through the tapes on the cart, calling out titles as he brought you to the correct spots. It went smoothly until you reached for the next tape and froze, reading the title aloud before you could stop yourself.

“Blondes in Heat?” you said, eyebrows shooting up. Your gaze darted to the rest of the tapes on the cart. “Oh, no.”

Steve groaned, already knowing what was coming. “Yeah, I’ll take care of those.”

You shook your head, holding up the tape with a smirk. “It’s fine, I can do it.”

“Seriously,” Steve said, his tone a little sharper. “I’ll handle it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, shrugging. “I’ve seen porn before, Steve.”

His eyes widened, and he stumbled over his words for a second before recovering. “What—you—you’ve—okay, I mean—”

“Relax, Harrington,” you said, clearly amused at his reaction. “You’re not the only person in Hawkins with a VHS player and curiosity.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, his face slightly pink. “I wasn’t—okay, fine. Just—don’t make it weird.”

You laughed, waving him off. “It’s not weird. Now push the cart.”

Grumbling something under his breath, Steve resumed pushing, steering you toward the back corner of the store where the beaded curtain waited. The clinking of the beads was just faint enough to make you second-guess the idea, but you straightened your shoulders and braced yourself. The cart rattled slightly as Steve slowed, and you gave him a look over your shoulder.

“C’mon, Harrington. It’s just tapes.”

The dim lighting of the ‘adult’ section made the whole thing feel way more awkward than it should have been. You broke the silence once more as Steve pushed the cart, and you, to one of the corners and had you hand him the tapes.

“You know, a place called ‘Family Video’ having a section for porn is a little weird.” You say as he shelves Blondes in Heat.

“Can you stop saying porn?” he sighs over his shoulder before walking back to you.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What would you rather me call it? The erotic arts? Adult features?"

"Just shut up," Steve says, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

You hand him the next tape, which you had been staring at with an amused smirk. "How to Satisfy a Woman in Six Minutes or Less? Really?"

Steve groaned. "God, you're such a pain."

"I'm just saying. Unrealistic. Also why the rush?"

"Oh, my God. Shut up!" Steve says, trying not to laugh.

"What? I'm being serious! Six minutes is a lot to ask. That's barely any time for foreplay, and I don't think anyone wants a half-assed—"

"I am not talking about sex with you!" he says, a little too loudly.

You bite back a laugh. "Why not? It's not weird. I'm sure it's not even the most awkward conversation you've had this week."

He turns, an eyebrow raised. "Oh, really?"

"Uh-huh. Remember when Robin told you and Dustin the difference between tampons and pads?"

Steve visibly winced at the memory. "Okay, fair point."

"See? Not weird," you said, handing him the next tape.

"Yeah, sure," Steve said, rolling his eyes as he took the tape and glanced at the cover. Then his eyes went wide, and his whole body seemed to freeze.

"What? What's wrong?" you asked, trying to peek at the case. "Don't tell me it's worse than the last one. Oh, is it—"

"It's nothing," Steve said quickly, cutting you off as he turned away.

"Uh-uh," you said, jumping off the cart and walking around so you could see the front. "I want to see."

"No, no way."

"If it's really nothing, then why can't I see it?" you challenged, crossing your arms.

"Because I said so!" Steve shot back, his voice high and panicked.

"Fine. Hand it over," you demanded, holding out your hand.

"No."

"Yes."

"No, really, I—"

"Steven Harrington," you snapped, your patience running thin. "If you don't give me that tape right now, I will—"

"Alright, fine! Just stop yelling," Steve sighed, relenting as he shoved the tape into your hand. You stared at him, surprised.

"I yelled once."

"Still."

"Whatever."

You glanced down, and immediately, you felt your own body freeze. In a flash, the situation felt way too real.

Because staring up at you from the tape cover was an image of a girl who could've been you, if her hair was a different color. A girl, sprawled out on her back, naked. The camera angle was positioned above her, the lens angled to give the viewer a full view of her body—her face, her breasts, her legs spread wide.

Your face was on fire, your mouth suddenly dry. Beside you, Steve shifted nervously, and it occurred to you that you were both just staring silently at a porno tape that was clearly made for a specific audience.

"Uh... this is awkward," you finally managed, your voice a little hoarse.

Steve made a sound that was half laugh, half strangled cry. "Yeah, I could've done without the reminder, honestly."

You shot him a confused look. "Reminder?"

He waved his hands in front of him, clearly flustered. "No, that's not what I meant. I just meant—forget it. Forget I said anything. Can we please move on?"

"Not yet," you said, narrowing your eyes. "What do you mean, reminder? Is there a girl in pornos who looks like me or something?"

"Uh... maybe," Steve said, wincing. "But it's not weird, or whatever. It's totally normal. I just... happened watch this one. I wasn't trying to... or anything. I didn't realize..."

He was rambling, and it was kind of adorable. But there was also something about his nervous energy that made your skin prickle in the best way.

"So, if I look like this girl..." you said, letting the words hang as you tilted your head and met his gaze, which was locked onto yours.

"Yeah?" he breathed, swallowing thickly.

You stepped closer, holding his gaze. "Does that mean you've thought about me like that?"

"What?" Steve said, his voice cracking. "No. No way. Of course not. Why would I—"

"Liar."

Your tone was gentle, playful. It was a challenge, not an accusation. Steve's lips parted slightly, but he didn't respond, his eyes still locked on yours. You tried to keep a straight face, but you couldn't help the laugh that escaped you.

"You know- just give me that." Steve said, snatching the tape back. You watched him shove it onto the shelf, the movement quick and jerky.

"Hey, I'm just teasing! It's not that serious." You say, hands up in mock defense as you walk backwards and hop back up to sit on the cart.

"Shut up," he muttered, his cheeks flushed.

You bit your lip, unable to stop grinning. "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

"Yeah, well, it's not funny."

You tilted your head, watching him as he fiddled with the shelf, his eyes not meeting yours. There was a vulnerability there, and a hint of shame. He looked almost hurt.

"Okay, seriously," you said, leaning forward and catching his gaze. "I didn't mean to actually upset you."

You hand him the next tape, attempting to make a joke about the absurd cover, but he just gives a noncommittal shrug. You frown.

"Steve, come on," you say, trying again. "I was just playing around. If it's really bothering you, I'll stop."

"It's not that," he said, shaking his head.

"Then what is it?"

He looked away, his jaw tight. You waited, giving him the space to say what he needed to. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, his words heavy with frustration.

"It's stupid," he said, still not meeting your gaze. "I just... we never talk about this stuff, okay? And then, the first time we do, it's because you think I'm some perv who gets off on looking at girls who look like you."

You blinked, caught off guard. "I... did not think that."

"Well, you should have," he snapped, turning to face you fully, his eyes burning. "Because that's how everyone thinks of me, isn't it? Steve Harrington, the former king of Hawkins High, screwing anything that moves."

You swallowed, not knowing what to say. Naturally, you went with humor to deflect.

"I mean if it helps, I've seen your luck with women lately, so I definitely don't think that..."

"Stop. Just—stop," Steve sighed, sounding exasperated. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. This is all we ever do. We can't have a serious conversation without joking about it, and it drives me insane."

You uncrossed your legs on the cart and let them dangle, leaning back against the wall of tapes, taken aback by his sudden honesty. His shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched. You had known each other through school, been friendly since he started at the store in July, but this was the first time he had ever really opened up. It was new, and a little scary, and definitely not something you knew how to deal with.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, and you meant it. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"Yeah, well," Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not the best at sharing. Ask anyone."

"Hey, I've got no room to talk," you said, smiling a little. "I've kept my walls pretty high too, I think."

"You're not wrong."

The air hung heavy between you. Steve shifted, his eyes darting from the cart to the shelves, clearly feeling just as awkward as you were.

"You know that the person you were in high school doesn't, like, define you right?" you offered, your voice quiet. "Like, I don't think of you as 'King Steve' or anything."

"Really?" he asked, his brow furrowing skeptically.

"Yeah," you said, nodding. "I mean, we work together. I get to see all of you. The Steve who's actually really good at his job, and a surprisingly good teacher when you're helping Robin study, and an actual nerd about movies. Plus, y'know, the dingus pirate."

Steve rolled his eyes but grinned a little.

"And I mean, maybe you'd have better luck if you were that guy when you tried to uh, pick up women. The fake charm kinda just... doesn't work with this version of you."

"Gee, thanks," he said, feigning annoyance.

"No, I mean it in a good way," you assured him. "I think you're more real like this."

He was quiet for a moment, chewing his lip. Then, unexpectedly, he reached for the next tape and you went to grab it from the dwindling stack. You handed him the tape, your fingertips brushing his palm, and a rush of heat flooded your cheeks.

Get it together, you told yourself. You're not suddenly crushing on the guy because he showed a little vulnerability are you?

Steve, oblivious, flipped the case over, studying the cover. "Okay, so this one is... not great," he said, shaking his head. "I've had the misfortune of having to put away more than one."

"Oh, boy," you said, laughing. "I'm ready."

"Okay, here goes," he said, turning the case toward you. "Blonde Bimbo Gets Banged."

"Jesus Christ," you snorted. "Is there any way this can get worse?"

"Let's find out," Steve said, flipping the case back and reading the synopsis. "She's blonde. She's a bimbo. And she knows it. She likes to flaunt her blonde beauty. Her boyfriend knows she's a whore, and that's just the way he likes her. They get wild and hot together, and soon the whole gang is banging the blonde bimbo."

"Jesus Christ how many times do they have to say 'blonde' in one synopsis. Does the target audience have the memory of a goldfish? Does this company need a new marketing team?"

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, it gets worse. The reviews call this a 'stand-out-of-the-pack classic.'"

"Please don't make me read the rest," you said, waving you hand in front of your face while laughing. "I'm already scarred."

"You wanted to know," Steve said, his lips pressed into a line to keep from laughing.

"You're right. I did. I shouldn't have."

You two fell back into a comfortable silence, and you found yourself studying Steve as he went about his task, staocking the last of the tapes neatly on the shelf. He had always been attractive, but he was starting to feel realer. You could see the details of him now, the cracks and rough edges and the parts of him he'd rather not share. It was a dangerous thought, and you knew it. He was still your coworker, after all. And, maybe, your friend?

You watched him finish shelving the last tape, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly with the movement, and your stomach did a somersault.

Oh no.

Steve turned and noticed you staring. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

You shook your head. "Nothing. I was just zoned out, I guess."

"Right," he said, clearly unconvinced. But he didn't push it.

"Last one," you say as your got to hand it to him. "And the survey says... oh. Wow."

"What is it?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Oh, no, it's just this is the first time we've actually stocked something decent," you say, turning the case toward him. "Like, this one doesn't make me want to scrub my brain out with soap."

Steve studied the case, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, yeah. I've seen this one."

"Really?" you asked, surprised.

"Yeah, it's actually pretty good," he admitted. "There's, like, a plot and everything."

"You don't say," you said, smirking. "Maybe we should put this in the Romance section."

Steve rolled his eyes, shelving the movie. "Okay, wiseass."

"I'm just saying. Plot, characters, and actual sex? That's practically a Jackie Collins novel."

"Very funny," Steve said, walking back toward the cart. You were still sitting on the edge, the wheels of the cart rattling slightly.

"Huh. We actually got through the whole cart," you said, grinning a little. "Go us."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, leaning his hands against the cart and looking over at the shelf. "That was surprisingly easy."

"We're a pretty good team," you pointed out.

"Yeah, we are."

You leaned back a little, balancing yourself on your hands and studying Steve. He seemed to be doing the same, his gaze locked on yours. The air felt thick, heavy, and somehow electric. You could practically feel the sparks.

"We should, um," Steve swallowed thickly, glancing over at the beaded curtain that led out to the main sales floor. "We should probably get to the front."

"Yeah," you agreed, though neither of you moved.

You held his gaze, and he held yours, the tension between you was overwhelming, and intoxicating, and you could barely breathe.

"You got a deposit to finish..." he whispered, his voice low.

"Yeah, the main lights are still on," you said, your throat dry.

Neither of you moved. You could feel the pull, the urge to close the space, the electricity between you threatening to overload. Your pulse was racing, your skin tingling. You wondered if he could hear the thunder of your heart, if he could feel the warmth of your breath on his lips.

"This is dumb," he murmured.

"So dumb," you breathed.

"We're not gonna..."

"Yeah, we're not..."

And then his lips were on yours, and everything else faded away. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle but firm, and the world seemed to stop. His mouth was soft, the kiss slow, lingering. You melted into him, letting him guide the pace, savoring every second. He tasted like coffee and popcorn and something sweet, and the scent of his cologne surrounded you, enveloping you.

When you finally pulled apart, your lips felt swollen, and you were breathless. Your eyes fluttered open, and you stared at each other, the air crackling around you.

"We are so fucking dumb," he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, a small, amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

You laughed, feeling giddy. "The dumbest. We should probably stop."

"Probably," he murmured. But his lips found yours again, his hand drifting into your hair, his fingers curling. You grabbed a fistful of his uniform vest, pulling him closer. He pressed into you, the pressure of him against your chest, between your legs, made your body ache. You moaned softly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue darting along your lower lip. You could feel his smirk as your lips parted, giving him access to the rest of your mouth. His tongue grazed yours, teasing, exploring. His free hand ran up the outside of your leg, his palm hot on your thigh even through the denim of your jeans. You arched against him, craving the friction, the feel of his weight, and he pushed back.

You tugged on his vest, and without breaking the kiss, he clumsily shed it and tossed it aside, his arms then circling your waist. Your hands slid under the hem of his shirt, and you shivered at the contact with his bare skin. He sucked on your lower lip, making you gasp. Your fingertips dug into the muscle of his back, and he pressed harder into you. His body was solid, but soft, and he still held you so carefully. You wanted more of him, all of him, everything.

One of his hands moved to you shoulder to take the same hideous Family Video vest off of you. He broke the kiss only to make sure that he didn't rip it or pop one of your many pins off while doing so, putting it on the bottom of the cart. The careful action made you giggle. He smiled down at you before capturing your mouth in another heated kiss. You pressed your tongue into his mouth this time, running it along his bottom lip. He moaned softly, pulling you even tighter against him.

Your fingers raked down his back, nails grazing the smooth skin, and he moaned into your mouth, grinding his hips into you. The friction of him between your legs sent a shiver of pleasure through your whole body, and you groaned. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading your legs so that he could fit himself perfectly against you. He pressed hard, his body hot between your thighs, his chest pressed to your chest, his mouth on your mouth.

He rocked his hips into you, the slow friction driving you wild, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding on as he pressed his full weight against you, pinning you on the cart between him and the shelves. Your fingers gripped his shoulders as he moved again, his hands moving down to grip your hips. You could feel his arousal growing, and you shifted to match his pace, his hips rolling into you as yours rocked up to meet them, creating the perfect amount of friction, the pressure building with every thrust. You whimpered against his mouth as his fingers dug into your thighs.

"God, I want you," he breathed between kisses, his voice husky, sending a fresh wave of heat through your core.

"We—we have to—" you gasped, your words catching in your throat as he ground against you again, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Yeah," he breathed, nodding. His hands moved to your waist, pushing your shirt up and running his palms up the exposed skin, his thumbs grazing the soft skin of your stomach that that swelled gently over the waistband of your jeans, his touch reverent as he let his thumbs trace lazy circles there. You pulled away at the contact, suddenly feeling self concious with his hands on your exposed skin.

"Woah.. is this okay?" he asked, his voice a little strained. "If you're not—"

"It's not you, it's just..." you swallowed, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "I've never been with someone... like you before. Someone who... has expectations..."

His hands slid out from under your shirt as he took a step back, confusion on his face. "Wait, what?"

"I mean," you continued, struggling to find the right words, "You're so attractive, and I'm..." You gestured to your body with an open palm, not even able to find the words to express how self-concious you were about your body compared to the girls that usually got his attention. "You know," you finally added. "Me. So... I mean, I just want you to be sure, because..."

Steve's eyebrows pulled together in concern, his voice suddenly very serious. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean."

"No," he shook his head. "No, I really don't."

You stared at him for a moment, surprised, and then your eyes dropped to your hands, which were clasped in front of you. Your nails had been painted black with silver glitter, and the edges of your fingertips were rough, worn down from anxiously picking at them for so many years. Your thighs, while sat on the cart, pressed together, the soft curve of them spilling slightly over the edge, a reminder of how you never felt like you fit the mold of what guys like Steve usually went for. You thought about the way your jeans pinched at your waist or how you always avoided certain angles in photos because they made your arms look bigger than you liked. Your stomach churned at the idea of him seeing all of you—every mark, every curve, every imperfection that you’d tried so hard to ignore but couldn’t help cataloging in moments like this.

“I just…” you started again, your voice quieter now, “I don’t want you to feel like this is a mistake. Like maybe the weird girl is hot when you're at work, but in the real world...” You trailed off, biting your lip hard to keep it from trembling.

Steve crouched slightly to meet your gaze, his hands gentle as they rested on your thighs, grounding you. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady but insistent. “Look at me.”

When your eyes finally met his, the warmth in his expression nearly unraveled you. “You think I’m going to change my mind just because we take our clothes off? I'm rock hard in the middle of an adult section that smells like stale popcorn, and you think that's going to go away when your clothes are off? Really?" He asked incredulously, pausing to laugh at his own words. "That's pretty bold of you to assume."

Your breath hitched at the words. At his touch. The way his voice softened around your name. "Steve..."

"Seriously," he said, leaning a little closer. His voice was quiet now, almost a whisper, and his eyes darted between your eyes and your lips, his hands still gently kneading your thighs. "It's you that should be careful. I mean... I can barely focus on anything when you're just standing around in these jeans," he admitted, his eyes moving to your legs, his palms slowly moving up the curve of them. You bit your lip, heat flaring low in your stomach. "But naked?" His eyes returned to yours, his voice suddenly rough. "I wouldn't stand a chance."

Before you could even respond, he closed the distance, pressing his mouth to yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, his hands gently kneading the tops of your thighs. You moaned softly at his touch, your arms sliding over his shoulders and tangling in his hair as you melted against him. He wrapped one arm around you, pulling you to him, the other hand sliding up your waist.

"Now," he whispered against your lips as he went to lift your shirt a little again. "Can I continue where I left off, please?"

You smiled, kissing him in reply. You parted your lips, deepening the kiss. He moaned against your lips, his hand slowly trailing up your waist again, lifting your shirt up more this time. Your body tingled in anticipation of his hands on your skin, his fingertips warm on your bare stomach, slowly trailing up to your ribs, then higher still, his thumb brushing the edge of the cup of your bra.

Your head tipped back as he broke the kiss to trace his tongue over your collar bone, then dipped lower, his breath hot on the exposed skin as his thumb gently brushed your nipple through your bra, your back arching slightly at the sensation. He pressed another kiss to your throat, and you moaned as his hand dipped under your bra, cupping your breast and kneading the soft skin.

You slid a hand under his shirt, trailing your fingertips across his waist, tracing the trail of hair that lead lower, the muscles in his stomach contracting at your touch. His hand on your waist tugged at the hem of your shirt, and you took the hint, reluctantly pulling away for a moment to peel the fabric over your head. Steve let out a low groan at the sight of you in your bra, and you smiled shyly, letting him take a moment to appreciate your newly exposed skin. His hand went to the back of your neck, his touch firm, grounding as he leaned in to kiss you again. His free hand found its way to your other breast, palming it and gently tugging your bra strap down.

You were both panting now, his fingers on you and your fingers on him, and your whole body throbbing for more. You ran your palm along the front of his jeans, feeling the outline of him straining against the denim. His mouth left yours and moved to the skin above your bra as his hand left your chest and fumbled for the clasp at your back. You ran your nails over the front of his jeans, your own pulse racing. You had to touch him, you had to see him. Your fingers found his belt, but it was difficult to work with his hands on you and your mind a haze of arousal and nerves.

He seemed to be having the same problem, because after a few more attempts he stopped trying to work your bra clasp and tugged impatiently at the fabric, his voice husky.

"This—can you take this off? Or should we move? Because I can't—"

"Here," you gasped, shifting slightly and turning so your back was to him. "Try again."

Steve hummed softly in acknowledgement, his breath tickling your shoulder as he worked to free you from the offending fabric, his touch feather light and torturously slow. You leaned forward a little, letting your hair fall in a curtain over your face so he wouldn't see how much his teasing was affecting you. But you could feel the wetness between your legs, the ache of anticipation making your knees weak. Finally, with a quiet, satisfied noise, he freed you from your bra, and you sat back against the self again, letting your hair swing back to frame your face again as you watched his reaction to your body.

Steve's mouth dropped open at the sight of you, the slow grin tugging at his lips doing nothing to ease the ache.

"Well, this isn't fair," he breathed, standing straighter with one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair, as if to calm himself down. He looked over you as you leaned back, braced against your elbows. He then let out a long, deep exhale, his hands moving back to take his own shirt off. He paused about halfway through the motion to peer down at you, looking a little ridiculous with the collar halfway up his face, one arm free.

"Oh shit, sorry, did you want my shirt off too, or did you want me to leave it on, or—"

"Shirt. Off. Please," you said quickly. Steve grinned and finished the motion, tugging the tshirt off and letting it hit the floor. Your eyes darted to his torso, his skin flushed and his chest heaving slightly from the anticipation. He had a nice, lean build, with broad shoulders and a surprisingly strong-looking core. His chest hair was a light dusting that trailed across his pecs and tapered into a faint line down the center of his stomach, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. It added to his charm, giving him an effortlessly masculine edge. Your fingers twitched with the urge to touch him, to feel the softness of his skin under your palms, to trace the faint lines of his muscles beneath.

He definitely noticed you staring because he started grinning again, and when you noticed, he laughed a little. "What? Never seen a guy naked before?" he asked teasingly, making a joke of it to cover up the fact that he was suddenly a little self conscious under your scrutiny.

"You're beautiful." It spilled out of your mouth before you could stop it, and he looked surprised by the sincerity. His hands froze in mid-air and his eyes darted to yours. He opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out, so instead he cleared his throat and grinned shyly at the ground.

"Okay," he said, clearly trying to collect himself, and you realized that he'd been flustered. By you. A wave of pride flooded your stomach, and you bit your lip as your smile grew wider. You weren't usually so forward, and it had surprised you too, but you were glad it came out. "Okay. Let me just, uh, find my brain."

"You left it over there, on the floor. With your shirt." You smirked at him and his eyes narrowed at the playful teasing. He bent down to place both his hands on either side of you on the cart, caging you in as he leaned closer to you and pressed his forehead to yours. He gave a slight push of his hips against you, just to make you aware of how much you were affecting him, before cupping one of your breasts in his hand and letting out a breath. He took your nipple in his fingers and rolled it gently. You moaned at his touch, your thighs spreading a little wider.

The sound was affirmation enough for him to take your other nipple in his mouth, and you leaned into his touch as he circled his tongue around you. His teeth grazed over it, biting just slightly and making you whimper with need. You could feel him smirk against your skin, and he slid his free hand down to your stomach, then lower. His fingers grazed over your jeans and pressed firmly against you through the thick denim.

He paused with his hand right above your waistband and he lifted his head to look into your eyes. He was clearly trying to make sure that he wasn't overstepping any boundaries and was silently asking for permission to keep going.

"You can always say no." His voice was barely more than a whisper as his fingers played with the button of your pants, not wanting to rush you.

You didn't hesitate, just leaned into him and whispered, "Please touch me. Please."

He gave a low groan, pressing a hard kiss to your lips and biting down on your lower lip, before breaking away and dropping his gaze to your jeans. You watched, biting your lip as he flicked open the button, pulling down the zipper, and slipping his fingers underneath the fabric of both your jeans and your underwear. He dragged a single finger over the slick, swollen heat between your legs, and you let out a shaky breath. He sucked in a breath, clearly affected, and then dipped his finger lower to stroke along your entrance. You shivered, letting out a low moan and trying to pull him closer.

You felt his breath hot on your shoulder as his other hand moved to tug the rest of your pants off, giving him easier access to you.

"So wet already," he breathed, and the feel of his lips moving against the soft skin of your shoulder made your thighs twitch, the tension of anticipation nearly overwhelming. He traced circles around your entrance with one finger before pushing in slowly. His movements were cautious at first, gauging your reaction as he worked up a slow pace. But it wasn't enough, not when you'd been craving the release for what felt like forever. You spread your thighs, trying to pull him closer.

"More," you breathed, gripping his wrist to guide him deeper, faster, harder. Steve gave a low moan as his finger curled inside you, finding that one spot that made your whole body ache with pleasure. He added a second finger, pushing deep and pumping into you again and again as you ground your hips up to meet him, chasing the feeling, desperate for more. You looked up to find him watching you, his lips parted and his pupils blown wide.

He leaned down to kiss you again, and the change in angle sent a new wave of heat through your core, a whimper escaping you. His free hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you into him and holding you steady as he pressed his thumb to your clit. You cried out at the new sensation, and Steve broke the kiss to let you breathe, his lips still pressed against yours, your breath mingling in the space between. His eyes locked on yours, he curled his fingers again and began working them in earnest, the heel of his palm pressed hard against you as his fingers pushed deeper and deeper with every thrust.

The pleasure was building, every nerve on fire as your orgasm neared, every stroke of his hand, every graze of his thumb making the tension build higher. His fingers moved faster, and you moaned his name, clinging to his shoulder, his arm, your hips rising to meet his hand.

"You're like...way too good at this..." You breathed between whimpers. Steve grinned, slowing his movements and teasing you.

"Well, I do have a pretty decent reputation..."

You gave a frustrated growl at the sudden slow down.

"Steve," you whined.

He chuckled softly. "Mm-mm," he hummed against your ear, nipping at it as he slowly slid his fingers out. "Not so fast."

"Are you... you're really doing this? Now?" you panted, incredulous. You needed more of him, more of his touch, more of the release you had been so close to, but now he was denying you? You opened your eyes, watching as he grinned down at you while he began to unbutton his jeans, still wearing a smug expression as he slowly pushed them down over his hips and down his legs. Your eyes darted from his face to the obvious bulge in his boxers as you swallowed.

"You want to keep complaining?" He asked, pulling down the boxers a little before taking himself in his hand and slowly pumping once, twice. His eyes never left yours, the grin you were used to seeing every day coming back "Because we can stop."

You couldn't even pretend to be angry as your gaze flicked between his face and his cock.

"Oh. You are... that's..." you stammered, taking a second to drink in the sight of him, so close but still so far from where you needed him. The smug grin turned genuine at your reaction and he pumped himself a few more times as if he was putting on a show for you. He let go of himself to slide his boxers all the way down and then stepped out of them to kick them to the side. He put his hands on sides of the cart and gave it a small shove, testing its durability, which illicited a small laugh from you.

"What's wrong? Not confident that we can stay in one piece for a few more minutes?" You teased. He scoffed in mock offense, giving you a quick kiss that lingered as he pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth.

"It's just precaution. Don't want you complaining if I get too excited and end up breaking this thing." He pulled away slowly, looking at the cart for a moment, thinking. "Actually, maybe I can—"

You wrapped a leg around his waist before he could finish his thought, pulling him to you so he was nestled perfectly against your hips. "You could also start with taking these off me," you suggested, grabbing the sides of your panties and tugging at the fabric. Steve let out a breath, his hands immediately moving to help you, though his mind was clearly distracted by what he wanted to do next. You watched as he pulled down the fabric over your hips, then your thighs, before dropping it on top of your jeans. His eyes trailed over the newly exposed skin, a look of pure desire on his face, his gaze hungry.

"God," he breathed. "You are..."

But you never found out what he was going to say, because your impatient hands had found him again, and you were pumping him slowly, watching him shiver in anticipation. His fingers dug into your hips, his mouth dropping open slightly, his gaze locked on yours as you moved, letting the feeling of your touch overwhelm him for a moment before he pulled your hand away with a small chuckle.

"Fuck. I almost forgot..." He bent to find his jeans and fished around in his back pocket. When he pulled his wallet free, your eyes went wide as you realized what he was getting. He held the square, foil wrapper in front of him.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he went to open the wrapper with his teeth.

"You brought a condom to work with you? Why would you ever think you'd need it here? In Family Video?" You questioned as he opened the packet, spitting the excess foil to the side, before looking at you with a lopsided smile.

"What, you think I put it there just in case we ran out of videos to restock? I had it there for after work one day, just in case," he explained as if it was the most obvious thing. You rolled your eyes, smiling and giving a slight laugh. "I mean, not with you. Not like... I had it there just in case I went on a date." He paused to wince a little. "Wait, no, that doesn't sound any better, does it?"

"I get what you're trying to say," you reassured him as you laughed a little harder, before the conversation took a slightly serious turn.

You glanced between the condom he was holding in his hand, and him. He was hard, aching even, and he looked desperate for your touch. You felt a small wave of pride that you could turn him on so much, and that you had the opportunity to be with him like this. To touch him and be touched.

You licked your lips, then said, "Put it on."

You felt like a teenager again, waiting with bated breath while he carefully slipped on the condom, his own breath shuddering as his fingers moved along his cock. When he finished, he leaned over you, caging you against the shelf once again with his arms on either side of your waist.

"For the record, I was hoping to take you on a date before… this happened. After work some time. Y'know, really take you out. Watch a movie with you, get dinner, go back to my car," He whispered the last bit into your ear, before kissing it gently and adding, "maybe get you in the backseat. But we can save that for another night."

You were too caught up in the feel of him against you to fully process what he just implied. A second night. This wouldn't just be a one time thing, you'd get to do this again... and maybe more?

Before you could react to that, you felt Steve line up at your entrance and your brain seemed to go on autopilot, your focus shifting to how you were about to get exactly what you needed. Your legs parted a little more, your heels resting against the lower shelves for leverage, your back arching slightly so your chest pressed against his. He paused there, looking down at you for a moment. Your breath caught at his expression—he was watching you intently, his gaze fixed on your face, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed.

"You want this, right?" The genuine question took you aback. The vulnerability was back in his eyes, and it suddenly became clear to you how nervous he was. "I just want to be sure this isn't—"

"Steve," you said, cupping his face in your hand. "Yes. I want this."

His breath left him in a rush as his lips curled into a smile, his relief clear. Then he gave a slight push of his hips and began to slide into you. His cock started to stretch you out, his length filling you inch by inch, and you whimpered at the feeling, the sensation of him inside you so overwhelming after having gone so long without being with anyone yourself. Steve stopped, his head falling to your shoulder as he groaned.

"Oh, god... you feel... Jesus, you're—" he was breathing hard, his chest pressed to yours, his hands gripping the shelf. His cock pulsed inside you, and you were trembling from the tension of it, the sweet ache of being filled, the need to have him buried in you fully. You slid your hands up his back and wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close to you as possible. He let out a ragged breath, then pressed a soft kiss to the curve of your neck, just below your jaw.

"Are you okay? Is it too much? We can stop—"

"I'm okay, just please—"

"What? Anything, just say—"

"Please keep going. Please," you whimpered. Your thighs twitched around him and you tried to pull him deeper, your body aching for him, for release. The angle was different and new, and it felt incredible. "I need more... please, I want you, all of you... "

Your words spurred him on. His mouth found your neck, sucking lightly at the spot just below your ear as he slowly thrust deeper, and deeper, until he was buried inside you. You felt your inner muscles stretch to accommodate his size, the pressure making you gasp as your legs quivered and your body flushed. Steve groaned, his breathing ragged, his body taut as he waited for you to adjust, every muscle in his back tense.

"God, I don't know how long I can hold out," he whispered.

"Then don't," you said. Your nails dug into his skin and you clenched around his cock. Steve bit down on your shoulder as he began to thrust in long, hard strokes, the friction making your legs tremble as you tried to keep up.

He pressed you to him, his arm looped under your waist, pulling you down on his length, the slow slide making you see stars. His hand snaked down between you, finding your clit and stroking you as he began to pick up the pace, the pressure building with every thrust. His moans were quieter now, more breathy as he drove into you over and over, the rhythm steady as he fucked you in time to the thud of the shelf against the wall.

You could feel yourself approaching the edge, every nerve tingling, every inch of you burning for release. The pressure of his body on yours, the way he moved, his moans, his scent, his hands—everything was pushing you higher, faster. His cock twitched inside you and you moaned, your own orgasm building with every stroke, every thrust, every touch. His pace became more erratic as you moved against him, your legs spread, your back arched, the angle deep and intense.

"I'm... fuck, I'm going to..." he managed between pants. "I want you... to come first..."

The way his voice shook, his hips stuttering with the effort of holding himself back, made your chest swell. He wanted you to finish before him, he wanted you to feel good. And it did, it felt good—so good, too good. Your heart hammered in your chest, the pressure of it making you feel like it might burst. He pushed harder, his fingers moving faster on your clit.

"Steve—" His name escaped your lips, breathy, as your body started to unravel. The tension in your core built higher, your hips jerking, the shelf hitting the wall harder. Your vision blurred as a wave of pleasure rolled through you, and you gasped his name again as you came around him, your body shuddering. Your muscles clamped down hard, making his pace stutter as he tried to push through. Steve groaned, his forehead resting on yours, his fingers digging into your side. He kept his pace even, thrusting through the aftershocks and holding you through your release, his mouth hovering near yours as he panted and moaned. You slid your arms to his back and raked your nails down, dragging your hands across the planes of his body, reveling in how his muscles twitched as your touch moved along his spine and to his ass, and you pulled him in deeper.

The angle was different now, the pressure intense as his pace sped up and he started chasing his own orgasm, his cock filling you up completely and sliding against every inch of you, sending another wave of pleasure through you. He looked so beautiful above you, his hair disheveled and falling in front of his face, his expression pinched as his pace increased. You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him closer and pressed a soft kiss to his neck. The tender touch made him shiver, and he pushed in hard and fast, his whole body going tense as his cock pulsed, the waves of his own release flooding through him. He moaned softly and your name tumbled from his lips.

For a moment you stayed there, his arms around you, his face pressed into your shoulder. Then, as the aftershocks ebbed away, he pulled out, giving you one last slow stroke as he did so. The loss of his touch made you whimper. You felt so empty now, aching for him, and you couldn't help but feel a little vulnerable at the thought of him pulling away from you. Steve stayed close for a moment longer, kissing you softly, tenderly, and you could feel your heart clench. He wasn't rushing off, he wasn't pushing you away. He was taking care of you.

Your body hummed with the lingering buzz of pleasure as Steve pulled off the condom, knotted the end, and threw it into the wastebasket in the corner, grinning proudly when it landed in the trash.

"Nice," he said, nodding as if impressed with himself. "And with my left hand, no less. Maybe I should have tried for pro basketball."

He was being a dingus again. A post-sex dingus, but still, a dingus. And it was such a relief.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, watching him carefully as he found his discarded clothing on the ground and began getting dressed. You had no idea what would come after, what the dynamic of things would be. What were the rules here? The guys you'd been with in the past didn't stick around to help you get dressed. You just put on your clothes, left the guys to clean up their mess, and went home.

"So," you said, taking your time to gather your own clothes from the bottom of the cart, putting your underwear on first. "Now what?"

He gave you a small grin, buttoning his pants as you grabbed your bra. "Now..." he trailed off, as if in thought. You slipped your bra over your arms, reaching back to do the clasps as best you could with limited reach. Steve noticed you struggling, and stepped towards you. He reached a hand up, motioning for you to turn around so that he could help you.

You did as he instructed, turning so that he had easy access to the hooks. His fingers grazed along the skin on your back as he slowly clasped each of them together. Once he finished, his hands slid up to your shoulders and he turned you around to face him again. You smiled up at him as you continued to put on your bra, adjusting yourself slightly. He didn't pull back right away. He kept his hands on you, running his thumbs across the fabric on your shoulders, a content smile on his face as he stared at you.

"What is it?" you asked, noticing that he seemed to be stuck in his head. He didn't answer you right away. His smile widened and he leaned down, kissing you gently. It was so soft and slow, that you forgot what you had asked him to begin with. All you could think about was his mouth on yours, and his hands on your waist, and the smell of his cologne and sweat, and the way his hair was completely messed up. He pulled away after a moment and you blinked, dazed.

"Nothing," he answered after what seemed like forever. "Just... this."

"This?" you asked. You could feel your heart racing again. He was still smiling, and he kissed you once more before pulling away and reaching down to pick up his shirt.

"This. You and me," he said, as if the answer was obvious. He pulled his shirt over his head and cocked his head at you as you began to put your jeans on, not answering. "Unless you didn't... I mean, I kind of assumed... unless you just wanted to forget this happened? That's not really my thing, but I mean, it's okay, we could pretend if—"

"I like you." It just blurted out of you and he froze, looking surprised. You realized you were holding your breath. He blinked.

"Really?"

"Really. But I mean... I know you like to take girls out, so maybe this was just a—"

"You really don't know me that well, do you?" he laughed. Your heart was hammering.

"What do you mean?" you asked cautiously. You'd said too much. He was going to take it back now. You knew he would.

"I mean..." he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, but he didn't look like he wanted to back down. "I'm not just gonna... y'know, get with you at work and then bail on you. I like you, I like... being around you. A lot. I wanna keep doing it. Just in other places. Like outside of this shithole. And definitely without my uniform on. I mean, unless you're into that. I could probably bring my uniform home."

Your mind was going in about twenty directions at once, and it took you a second to process what he'd just said. He'd never... he liked being around you. And he wanted to take you out. You realized your mouth was open slightly and you closed it, biting your lip and feeling a wave of relief.

"You like me?" you repeated. "Not... you actually want to be around me?"

Steve stared at you for a second, a mix of disbelief and concern on his face, like you were the biggest idiot in the world for doubting him. Then his eyes narrowed, like he'd suddenly understood. He grabbed your waist again and pulled you back into him, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Are you telling me I'm so bad at flirting you didn't realize I've had a crush on you for the past four months? Are you kidding me?" He laughed a little at that. "You're actually insane. I thought it was so obvious..."

"I... what?" you stammered. "No! I had no idea."

"I mean," Steve started, pulling away slightly as he began to run through the list of times he'd been blatantly obvious in his interest for you, "I'm always trying to spend more time with you, asking you about yourself, finding stupid ways to make you smile or laugh or just... you know... pay attention to you... and like, the way I talk about you. Robin constantly call me out on it." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up a little more, which somehow only added to how endearing he looked.

"Well..." you mumbled, feeling your cheeks redden, "I just thought it was, y'know. Steve Harrington being Steve Harrington. Being a flirt."

Steve stared at you in silence for a moment, looking slightly disappointed that you were that clueless.

"Wait... do you really not know? About—" he looked up to the ceiling, and let out a short huff of air, before he looked back at you with his eyebrows raised. "The flirting, the winking, the talking about my parents not being home? Like... is it actually not obvious?"

Your face fell as you thought back on all the interactions the two of you had over the past few months, trying to pick up on clues. Had you really missed every hint that he had been dropping? You wanted to bury your head in your hands. You wanted the ground to swallow you up. But... he was still here. Still smiling. Still standing close and looking at you with the same interest that he'd had the whole night, since you had walked through the front door.

"You argue with me about everything, though," you said with a laugh, thinking of the many debates that the two of you had over what was a good movie, what was a bad one, which character in a movie was the hottest, if the latest rom com was really that good (spoiler: it wasn't), or even over the smallest, dumbest things that didn't even matter. "If I hadn't known you, I'd think that we just didn't like each other."

"That's just the chemistry," Steve shrugged, "You think I argue with all my coworkers about every little thing? Please." He chuckled as you blushed and shook your head, before he took another step closer to you, closing the distance between the two of you. "I like getting a rise out of you. You get so annoyed when you're trying to argue your point but can't think of the words. It's really cute."

You playfully nudged him with your elbow, before you finally put on the last of your clothes. Steve did the same, and when you looked down, you were both fully dressed. There was no trace that either of you had just fucked each other senseless a few moments ago. You glanced back up at him as he adjusted his vest.

"Lets go finish that deposit and then get the hell out of here."

You followed him back to the register, and he took the deposit bag and signed it, passing it to you. He waited patiently as you double checked to make sure that the deposit slip and the money matched. Once everything was correct, he gave a nod.

"Looks good. Ready to lock up?" he asked.

You nodded, and you both went to the breakroom to punch out. He opened the door for you, and you punched out on your time clock and gathered your things. You put your vest in your locker and closed it, turning around to see that Steve had already waited for you, patiently leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. You walked past him and out of the door, flipping the light switch as you walked out.

Whe you were outside the store, Steve locked the doors, then took the key and tossed it up and caught it. He turned and started walking backwards in the direction of the parking lot, as you headed to the bike rack to unlock your bike. Steve turned around, thinking you were right behind him and when he saw you at the bike rack, he spoke again.

"What are you doing? Are you riding that?"

"Um. Yes?" you raised an eyebrow, giving him a strange look as if to question what his problem was. "That's the plan. It's how I usually get home from work."

"It's freezing and it's late and I'm not letting you ride that back." He was being insistent. "No."

"Um. Yeah? It's really not that bad. I have a coat."

"Get in the car, leave your bike chained up. I have a morning shift tomorrow, I'll make sure it's there" he insisted, "Please? It's already past ten."

"Steve."

"C'mon. Just get in." he shrugged, his keys jingling in his hands. He wasn't going to budge and you were starting to get annoyed.

"It's really not—"

"Get in the damn car already." He rolled his eyes at you, clearly not buying the argument that you could get home by yourself and in one piece. It was dark outside, and a bit chilly, but that wasn't exactly uncommon for Hawkins. You sighed. You knew you wouldn't win this battle and it wasn't worth it to continue to argue.

"Fine. But just for the record, it's not that cold and I would have been fine. You know that."

"Mhm. Sure." Steve grinned, leading the way to the parking lot. When you got there, you stopped and glanced at all the empty cars and he frowned, before he gave a laugh of relief when he saw his BMW in the back corner. He unlocked the doors, you both climbed inside and he started the engine. He drove out of the parking lot, turning right onto the main street. You leaned your head on the window, your mind still spinning with the events of the last hour. Steve Harrington wanted you. You wanted Steve Harrington. This wasn't a one time thing, you could do this again. It was really happening.

As your eyes closed, you thought about the conversation you'd just had and something clicked. Steve's comment about him having a crush on you for months finally sank in. Your head whipped towards Steve in the driver's seat and you stared at him, as if you hadn't seen him in this light before. You couldn't help but stare. He was... perfect. He was absolutely, flawlessly beautiful and you just couldn't believe that someone like him could be so infatuated with someone like you. You leaned back in your seat, watching him carefully as he drove. You felt like you were going to burst, or pass out. You'd never been more attracted to someone before, but there was something else there. It felt more intense, more intense than it had felt before with anyone else. You felt your face turn a few shades of pink again as you thought of him.

The ride to your house wasn't a long one. Hawkins wasn't exactly known for being large, after all, and you didn't live too far from the store. Before you knew it, you were parked on the side of the road right in front of your driveway. You smiled at the sight of the familiar streetlight flickering every now and then. Home.

"Thanks," you mumbled quietly, as Steve put the car in park. "I... I mean... um, yeah, just... thanks." You fidgeted a little with the seatbelt strap and he nodded at you. He didn't move to take his hand off the wheel.

"Yeah... so," Steve gave a slight sigh as he leaned back, finally looking away from the windshield and meeting your eyes again. "Can we go back to talking about the whole you having no clue thing, because... I gotta be honest with you. I don't think I've ever been this embarrassed in my life. You thought I was just..."

You stared at him for a second, watching the way he spoke, watching how animated he was as he explained his side of the story, as if it had actually been some huge deal that you didn't notice him pining over you. The thought of it was... sweet, and it was such a contrast from what you thought you knew about him before. He really cared about how you felt.

"You know that I would never use you, right?" Steve continued. "Like I really like you. I think I made that pretty clear at the store, but like, if I made you uncomfortable or—"

You reached forward and took his hand in yours. You took it gently at first, testing to see his reaction, before he took your hand in return. He glanced down at where your fingers laced together, as his thumb moved over your skin.

"Steve," you interrupted softly, and his head tilted up to look back at you again. He had been rambling.

"Hm?" He asked, clearly unsure of how to react to what you just said. He watched as you brought his hand up to your mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his hand. When your gaze met his again, you smiled, feeling the warmth of your breath on his hand, your nose brushing against him.

"Take me out." It was a request, a gentle demand, as if he didn't know that you would follow him anywhere at this point.

He grinned at that. The idea was definitely appealing. You saw the wheels turning in his head, imagining all the places that you could go on a date. What movies you could see, which ones would be worth sitting through for two hours with you, and which ones wouldn't. You were certain he had the entire month mapped out already.

"Can I pick you up at five on Saturday? There's this drive in theatre down the next town over." Steve offered, his eyes lit up with excitement.

"Yeah, I'm off on Saturday."

"I know. I've been staring at that calendar in the breakroom all week. I know all the dates you have off." Steve explained, as you looked at him in awe, with your mouth hanging open in surprise. "What? I wasn't lying back there. I had been planning to ask you out."

He didn't seem ashamed to admit it either, as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then brushed his fingers over your cheek, as if to check that you were really there. You leaned into the touch and he smiled, letting out a content sigh. He took your hand and pulled you towards him, pressing his lips to your temple.

"I should get inside, my parents are probably wondering why I'm home from work so late." You whispered, looking up at Steve, whose face fell. He pulled you a little closer to him, leaning his head down to meet you, as if he didn't want you to leave.

"Saturday." He said it more to remind himself than to remind you. "I'll pick you up here."

"I'll be ready. Promise." you grinned, and he nodded in confirmation. With that, he gave you one final kiss, pressing his lips gently to yours for what felt like an eternity, but ended up only being about three seconds, before letting you go. He sat back up, putting the car back into drive, as you reached for the door handle.

"Have a good night."

"Yeah. You too." Steve smiled as he put the car back in drive.

---

extra lil bonus scene for the platonic!Stobin lovers:

The next morning at Family Video, Steve leaned lazily against the counter, flipping through a stack of tapes with all the enthusiasm of a kid forced to do summer homework. Robin, meanwhile, was loading the last of the returns into a cart, muttering about how she always got the worst tasks.

“You could at least pretend to help,” Robin said, giving him a pointed look as she pushed the cart toward the back.

“I’m on very important rewinder duty,” Steve replied, smirking as he leaned back against the counter.

Robin rolled her eyes. “You’re on very important doing nothing duty.”

She disappeared into the aisles, her voice carrying back to him as she headed toward the adult section. “Why do I always get stuck with the beaded curtain of doom? I didn’t sign up to alphabetize Hawkins’ finest porn collection !”

“Because you’re the captain, and I’m just a humble first mate,” Steve called after her, grinning to himself.

A moment later, Robin’s horrified yell shattered the calm.

“STEVE!”

Steve’s heart leapt into his throat as he sprinted toward the back, shoving through the beads to find Robin standing stock-still, staring at the trash can with a look of utter disgust.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, panting slightly.

Robin pointed at the trash can like it was radioactive. “There is a used condom in the trash can!”

Steve froze, his stomach dropping. “Uh…”

Robin turned to him, her expression a mix of shock and dawning realization. “Wait. Wait. Harrington. No. Tell me you didn’t—”

“I—it’s not what it looks like!” Steve stammered, raising his hands in defense. “I mean, technically, it is what it looks like, but it’s not like that!”

Robin’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. Oh my God, you and—wait— you and her?! In the adult section?!”

“No! Well… yes. But it wasn’t—it was after close!” Steve groaned, running a hand through his hair, clearly panicking. “And it wasn’t planned ! It just… happened!”

Robin stared at him, blinking slowly. Then, she tilted her head. “So let me get this straight. You, Steve Harrington, had sex here, surrounded by titles like Butt Bandits 3 and Debbie Does Dallas? ”

Steve’s face turned bright red as he buried his face in his hands. “Please don’t say it like that.”

Robin then let out a bark of laughter. “Steve, do you have any idea how lucky you are that I found this and not Keith? Can you even imagine? He’d have a field day!”

Steve groaned again, his face still buried in his hands. “Please, don’t even joke about that.”

“I’m not joking!” Robin said, laughing harder now. “You’d never live it down. He’d probably give you some gross high-five and call you ‘stud’ every time he saw you.”

“God, please stop. I’m already dying of embarrassment.”

Robin folded her arms, a wicked grin on her face. “Oh, I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. Who even does this? At work, Steve? In the adult section? What, were you inspired by the ambiance?”

“It wasn’t planned!” Steve repeated, throwing his head back. “It just… happened!”

Robin smirked. “Oh, I’m sure it just happened. ”

“Robin,” Steve said, glaring at her. “Please. I’m begging you. Just pretend this didn’t happen.”

Robin pretended to consider it, then shrugged. “Fine. But you’re taking the trash out.”

“What? No way!”

“Oh, yes way,” she said, shoving the trash can toward him. “You made this mess. Literally. Now deal with it.”

Steve sighed dramatically, grabbing the trash can and stomping toward the back door as Robin’s laughter echoed behind him.

As he reached the exit, Robin called after him, her voice dripping with amusement. “Oh, and for the record? Since she clearly likes you back, maybe next time, take her somewhere that doesn’t smell like old popcorn and desperation!”

Steve froze mid-step, turning to glare at her. “Robin!”

She just grinned, wiggling her fingers in a wave. “Have fun with the trash, lover boy!”

Steve groaned loudly, stomping outside as Robin’s laughter rang through the store, the last thing he heard before the door slammed shut.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #platonic!stobin #platonic stobin #robin buckley #oneshot #x reader #smut #friends to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #no use of y/n #self image issues #idiots in love #family video #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things smut

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deathofacupid · 3 months ago

Note

Don’t know if you take requests but something about gojo with an insecure, loser, socially anxious, nervous, pessimistic reader? Like in high school.. he is trying to get to know her, she thinks he is too good for her etc?? Plz

"stop following me," you mutter, a low scowl beneath your breath.

"what?" gojo scoffs, the sound exaggerated, a theatrical flourish. "i would never."

"quit that. i'm serious," you insist, your voice sharpening with a hint of exasperation.

"so am i!" he counters, his tone mirroring yours, but with an underlying playful lilt.

"go away."

"i happen to be heading the same direction," he replies, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"oh, so, you have chemistry next?" you ask, gesturing with a flick of your wrist towards the looming science hall, its sterile windows reflecting the midday sun.

"…no," he admits, a momentary pause, then a quick recovery. "but, hey, can't a student drop by to say hi? to teachers that love him?" he emphasizes the word, a smirk playing on his lips.

"what teachers?" you ask, the words barely audible, a murmur lost in the hum of passing students.

"hey!" he exclaims, clutching his chest dramatically, feigning offense. "you know, i still don't know why you insist on hating me."

"i don't hate you," you correct him, your gaze fixed on a distant point, anything but his face. "i just strongly dislike being in your presence."

"that's, like, the same thing," he says, shrugging off your protest. "i like you, and i know you like me."

"bold assumption," you retort, a flicker of annoyance in your eyes. "just 'cause a girl exchanges a few syllables with you, doesn't mean she wants you."

"maybe not," he concedes, a sly grin spreading across his face. "but i'm pretty sure you're the exception."

"go. away," you repeat, pinching the bridge of your nose, attempting to quell the rising tide of frustration.

"c'monnn. you still haven't answered me!" he whines, his voice drawn out into a playful plea.

"and, if i do, you'll leave me alone?" you ask, your tone laced with skepticism.

"maybe," he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"i'm not answering you, then."

"please?" he begs, widening his eyes into comical puppy-dog eyes, a classic gojo maneuver.

you stop in your tracks, turning to face him, the movement abrupt. "we don't work together, alright? it'd be weird."

"what?" he asks, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. "why?"

you sigh, the sound heavy with exasperation. "do i really have to spell it out for you? you're all… you. and, i'm all… not you."

"so? what do they say? opposites attract?" he counters, his voice laced with a confident charm.

"jesus. you're hopeless. why can't you take 'no' for an answer?"

"because i'm a catch. who doesn't want a catch?"

"me."

"but, why?" he asks, his voice laced with a touch of sincere curiosity.

"i already explained this to you. it's not my fault you can't get it through that thick skull of yours."

"okay, first of all, mean. my skull is average-sized," he protests, a mock-injured tone in his voice. "and, second, yeah. i don't get it."

"gojo, look. you're a lot different," you pause, wincing slightly, "social-wise. i couldn't keep up with you. i don't do parties. or, like, talking."

he cuts you off, a wave of his hand dismissing your concerns. "then don't do parties. or, talking. i run my mouth enough for the both of us," he offers, a playful grin spreading across his face.

"there are prettier girls out there. go yearn for one of them."

he makes an ulcer-inducing buzzer noise, a loud, obnoxious bzzzt! "nope, there's not. you're the prettiest of them all," gojo sing-songs, his voice laced with a playful melody. "pretty, and smart, and kind —well, we'll work on that part. but, you're perfect. don't start making up reasons to get me to leave. it won't work anyways."

"you're insufferable," you sigh, the sound a mixture of exasperation and reluctant amusement, though the flush creeping up your neck betrays your true feelings.

he takes your hand in his, his touch warm and surprisingly gentle, and you don't pull it away. "you don't have to change who you are, just to be with someone who's not the same as you. besides, you're throwing away what we could have, without even trying."

you chew your lip, the nervous habit betraying your inner turmoil. it feels like a horrible idea, a collision of personalities that could end disastrously.

but, you've never been good at resisting him, his charm a persistent, inescapable force. "i don't know," you say, finally, the words laced with uncertainty.

"i do, though. so, why don't you trust me?" he asks, his eyes locking with yours, a depth of emotion in their blue depths.

he pulls you closer, his hand gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. and, you do. you do trust him, in all his annoying, infuriating, and undeniably captivating glory.

banner credits to @/im4yeons <33

#okay i probably could have done a better job with this #but i hope u enjoy regardless #keep reqs coming innn !!#satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #fluff #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

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amethystarachnid · 2 months ago

Note

Hey this is my first ever request. I hope you'll write it. Can i ask for tony stark & y/n's wedding with natasha, bruce, steve, thor and happy (no other characters plz) as their friends and help them with the arrangements and its just so chaotic and fun since planning, shopping and to the actual ceremony. Y/n is nice, friendly and grateful for their help and tony keeps sassing around and sneaks in between just to kiss y/n and the avengers see it and tease him about it 😙 and fluffy and funny things like that

please 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️

CHAOS & CONFETTI

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance, some action

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think?

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The ring on your finger still feels surreal. Even after a week of wearing it, you catch yourself staring at it when you think no one's looking. The moment Tony got down on one knee, there was no hesitation in your answer. You said yes before he even finished the question. He grinned like he’d just hacked the Pentagon and pulled off the ultimate prank, and now, somehow, you’re planning a Stark-level wedding with… well, the Avengers.

That’s probably your first mistake.

Tony, of course, insists on making it a “team effort,” because as he says it, “What’s the point of having a super squad if you can’t weaponize them for cake tastings and table arrangements?” You tell him that sounds like a terrible idea. He kisses your forehead and says, “Exactly. It'll be memorable.”

You should’ve known then.

It starts on a Tuesday morning. You’re sitting on the couch in the common room of the tower, scrolling through Pinterest and wondering if it's physically possible to have too many fairy lights at a wedding. Tony walks in, grabs a handful of almonds from a bowl like it’s popcorn, and announces, “All right, my brilliant, beautiful fiancée. I have assembled the wedding planning task force.”

You lower your phone. “You did what?”

He gestures dramatically toward the door.

One by one, they enter.

Natasha, looking vaguely amused but sipping black coffee like she’s preparing for a long day. Bruce, already carrying a clipboard, wearing a kind expression that says, I’m going to pretend this is going to go smoothly. Steve follows, nodding politely, trying very hard not to look panicked. Thor enters last, in full Asgardian armor because he "wasn't informed this was a casual event." Happy peeks in from the hallway, clearly trying to sneak away, but Tony pulls him in like he's the final piece of some ridiculous Avengers puzzle.

You blink.

“This is your task force?”

Tony beams. “Dream team, baby.”

Happy raises a hand. “I’m only here because he promised me donuts.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The first meeting is held in the main conference room — the same one used for life-or-death mission briefings and SHIELD-level security threats. Now it's got swatches of fabric and floral samples spread across the table like war plans. You watch as Natasha neatly organizes everything while Steve attempts to color-coordinate swatches with a look of deep confusion. Bruce starts sketching layout options on his tablet. Thor is poking a bouquet of peonies, asking, “Are these the Midgardian ones that smell like roasted goat, or am I thinking of another?”

Tony stands at the head of the table, arms folded like he’s directing a military operation. “All right, let’s break it down. We’ve got catering, decor, venue, music, guest list, cake, bachelor party, bachelorette party—”

“You’re not planning the bachelorette party,” you cut in.

Tony winks. “Only a few ideas. Flamethrowers. Helicopters. Flamethrowers on helicopters.”

Natasha hums. “I volunteer as tribute to veto everything he just said.”

Bruce raises his hand like a concerned science teacher. “Should we maybe start with something simple? Like... theme?”

Steve nods quickly. “Themes are good. I like themes. Patriotic ones, maybe. Red, white, and—”

“No,” you and Tony say at the same time.

Thor slams a fist onto the table, nearly toppling a centerpiece. “There should be fireworks! Endless fireworks!”

Happy sighs. “If this turns into another interdimensional incident, I’m not putting it on the insurance report.”

You stand slowly, trying not to laugh. “Guys. One thing at a time.”

The next few hours are a blur of chaos.

Natasha is shockingly good at organizing people, and quickly takes the reins on logistics. She starts grilling you for decisions like she's interrogating a HYDRA agent. “Color palette. Pick three. No more.” You sputter and try to point to a mood board. She slaps it out of the way. “Those are four colors. Cut one.”

Bruce is quietly mapping out seating charts, but keeps asking you if anyone has a “history” with anyone else. “I just don’t want to seat Thor next to someone who might cause an incident.” He glances at Thor, who is now drinking coffee straight from the pot. “Again.”

Steve is surprisingly passionate about tuxedo fittings and insists on a classic, timeless look. You think he’s just relieved to be dealing with suits and not high-tech weaponry. He draws some concept sketches that actually look like Vogue covers.

Meanwhile, Happy is trying to figure out how to get food trucks onto the tower’s helipad, and Tony is now suggesting that the cake should be a life-size ice sculpture of the two of you, filled with champagne.

You look over at Bruce, who looks like he aged ten years in an hour.

By day three of planning, things have escalated.

Natasha is now your maid of honor by default because she scares everyone else into submission. She's made a spreadsheet so color-coded it could qualify as modern art. You love her.

Thor has taken over flower selection and is sending crates of Asgardian flora to Earth. You walk into the living room to find a bouquet that’s pulsating with blue light. It might be sentient.

Steve is still holding out hope for a marching band.

Happy has started asking you both if you’d rather elope.

Bruce is designing a stress-free “meditation zone” for the reception, complete with bean bags and aromatherapy diffusers. It smells like lavender and impending doom.

You and Tony, of course, are having the time of your lives.

Every evening, you collapse onto the couch with him, both of you exhausted and grinning. He pulls you into his lap, your legs draped over his, and kisses your cheek. “Best decision I ever made,” he murmurs.

“You mean proposing?”

“No, bringing in Thor. Did you see the flowers? That bouquet tried to bite Steve.”

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. “This is insane.”

He looks at you like you hung the stars. “Yeah. But it’s our kind of insane.”

The next big challenge? The tasting.

You arrive at the test kitchen where Natasha has scheduled three catering options. Bruce brings a whiteboard with notes on allergies, dietary restrictions, and approximate quantities based on caloric intake. Thor eats an entire tray of appetizers before anyone can stop him.

“Are we allowed to bring mead?” he asks.

“Only if you don’t set the table on fire again,” Steve mutters, reaching for a napkin.

Tony's contribution is hiring a celebrity chef just to impress you. The guy barely makes it through the first course before Natasha pulls him aside and quietly tells him that if he adds foam to anything again, she'll relocate his kneecaps.

By the end of the tasting, you’re so full you can barely move, and Happy is asleep at the table. Bruce is analyzing your reactions with the seriousness of a nuclear scientist. “You smiled more with Option B. It could be the truffle oil.”

Tony grabs your hand and kisses the back of it. “Whichever you pick, we’ll serve it in floating platters. I already have prototypes.”

“I don’t need floating food, babe.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You say that now.”

As the weeks go by, the chaos only deepens. You find Thor stringing up lights with Steve, both of them arguing over voltage. Natasha and Happy somehow become co-DJs when you veto Tony’s playlist filled entirely with AC/DC. Bruce builds a drone-based photography system, and Tony insists it wear a tiny tux.

But in the middle of all the madness, you find the sweet parts.

Steve brings you tea one afternoon, gently telling you to take a break. Natasha helps you pick out your dress — no nonsense, no drama, just her calm voice telling you that you look powerful. Bruce lets you cry on his shoulder when you get overwhelmed. Thor, for all his dramatics, leaves little hand-written notes with weird Asgardian blessings around the tower. Happy gives you a thumbs-up every time you pass him, like he’s reminding you that you got this.

And Tony?

He’s always there.

When you’re too tired to think, he carries you to bed. When you’re stressed about table settings, he makes you laugh until you can’t breathe. He doesn’t care about the flowers or the suits or the menu. He just wants to marry you.

“Even if the cake explodes and Thor sets the band on fire,” he says one night, tangled up in bed with you. “As long as you say I do, it’ll be perfect.”

You smile, heart full.

“Deal.”

---

The planning doesn’t slow down. If anything, it ramps up to levels you didn’t even think were possible. Every day feels like some kind of mission briefing gone horribly off-track, and yet, somehow, you’re still moving forward. You try your best to keep things under control, to be nice and grateful because, honestly, they’re all putting in a ridiculous amount of effort. Even Happy, who is definitely pretending he wants nothing to do with it but still shows up every day with a new logistical solution.

Tony, however, is a menace.

He loves the chaos. Feeds off it. While you’re trying to go over the finalized guest list with Bruce and Natasha, Tony is in the corner trying to convince Thor that it would be hilarious to have fireworks shoot out of the cake when you cut it. Thor is all in. Steve is not.

“I’m not stopping you,” Steve says, flipping through his list of responsibilities. “But I will say, if you set fire to the cake, I’m not going to be the one explaining it to Y/N.”

Tony leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. “She loves me. She’ll forgive me.”

You glance up from your notes. “You sure about that?”

Tony smirks. “Eighty percent.”

Happy sighs heavily. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

Dress shopping gets scheduled for the following week, and Natasha is fully in charge. You don’t argue. She’s efficient, has good taste, and knows how to make a decision. She also immediately bans all men from the process.

Tony hates it.

The moment he hears about it, he whirls around from his latest wedding-related disaster (arguing with Bruce over whether AI-controlled serving trays are really necessary) and looks betrayed. “Wait. I’m not invited?”

Natasha doesn’t even look up from her tablet. “No.”

Tony gestures to himself. “But I’m the groom.”

“That’s exactly why.”

He turns to you, desperate. “Babe.”

You try to keep a straight face, but the pout he’s giving you is so ridiculous that you have to look away. “You’ll be fine.”

“I won’t be fine. I’ll be suffering.” He groans and leans dramatically against the counter. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me with these guys.”

“You’ll survive.”

He watches as Natasha gives you a rundown of the appointments. “Fine. But I will be sneaking in at some point.”

Natasha doesn’t even blink. “I will have you thrown out.”

On the day of, you make sure to kiss Tony before you leave, which is the only reason he lets you go without more whining. Natasha, to no one’s surprise, is the best possible person to take dress shopping. She’s brutally honest, efficient, and knows how to keep the process from feeling overwhelming. She even lets you pause for snacks in between appointments, which automatically makes her your favorite person for the day.

Some dresses are immediate no’s. Some are contenders. Some are almost perfect. But then, after a few hours, you put one on, and the moment you step out of the dressing room, you know. The fabric is soft, the fit is perfect, and when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, your heart stumbles in your chest.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “That’s the one.”

You turn, studying yourself. “You think?”

She nods. “You look dangerous in that dress.”

You laugh. “That’s not exactly the goal.”

“No, but it’s a bonus.”

You let out a slow breath. It’s real now. The ring on your finger, the wedding planning, the future you’re about to have with Tony. The idea of marrying him never scared you, but seeing yourself in a wedding dress makes it all feel even more real. You grin. “Yeah. This is the one.”

Back at the tower, Tony is pacing like an impatient child waiting for a present. Every time someone walks into the common room, he turns, hopeful. When it’s not you, he groans.

Steve is on his third cup of coffee, watching with mild amusement. “You could do something productive.”

Tony scoffs. “I am being productive. I’m preparing to be emotionally supportive.”

Happy flips through a magazine. “You’ve done nothing but sigh dramatically for the last twenty minutes.”

“I’m really good at sighing dramatically.”

When you finally get back, arms full of shopping bags, Tony practically launches off the couch. The moment you step through the door, he’s there, kissing you before you can even say hi. He cups your face, tilting his head as he presses soft, lingering kisses against your lips.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “She was gone for five hours, Stark.”

Tony ignores her. “Did you miss me?”

You laugh, arms winding around his neck. “A little.”

He grins. “What’d you get? Show me.”

“Absolutely not.”

His grin fades into something comically devastated. “Why are you so mean to me?”

Thor, who has just walked in, claps a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Do not despair, friend Stark. The element of surprise is a most sacred Midgardian wedding tradition.”

Tony groans. “You’re all conspiring against me.”

Steve smirks. “And?”

Tony glares at him.

In the following weeks, things only escalate. The wedding planning moves forward at full speed, with each Avenger handling their own responsibilities. Natasha keeps everything running smoothly. Bruce finalizes logistics. Thor continues to be overly enthusiastic about everything. Steve tries to be the responsible one but ends up getting dragged into nonsense anyway. Happy threatens to quit at least once a day, but never actually does.

And Tony?

Tony sneaks kisses every chance he gets.

You could be reviewing seating charts, and suddenly he’s there, pressing a kiss to your temple. You could be talking to the florist, and he’ll dip in, dropping a quick peck on your cheek before disappearing. You could be mid-conversation with Natasha about final headcounts, and suddenly his arms are around your waist, lips grazing the side of your neck.

It doesn’t go unnoticed.

Steve groans every time it happens. “Do you have to do that?”

Tony smirks. “Yes.”

Natasha just raises an eyebrow. “At least try to be subtle.”

Thor, who clearly finds the entire thing entertaining, simply nods in approval. “Affection is a most glorious thing.”

Bruce sighs. “Can we get through one meeting without this?”

Tony grins. “Doubt it.”

You’re not exactly helping. Every time he sneaks a kiss, you let him. Maybe even encourage it. He makes you laugh, makes you feel loved, makes even the most ridiculous parts of planning fun. The stress never lasts long when he’s around.

One night, after a particularly long day of decisions, you find yourself curled up with him on the couch. The tower is quiet. Everyone else has gone to bed. It’s just the two of you, warm and comfortable.

Tony presses a kiss to your forehead. “You still having fun?”

You nod. “Yeah. It’s a lot, but… it’s good.”

He smiles, fingers trailing down your arm. “I’m proud of you.”

You blink. “For what?”

“For handling all this. For putting up with me. For making this whole thing feel like an adventure instead of a chore.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “You do realize I’m marrying you, right? The chaos is part of the package.”

He grins. “Damn right it is.”

You curl closer, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I can’t wait.”

His arms tighten around you. “Me neither.”

The wedding is getting closer. The chaos is getting bigger. But in the middle of it all, it’s just you and Tony, making something beautiful out of the madness.

---

The wedding is a few days away, and everything is supposed to be settling into place. Most of the big decisions have been made. The dress is hanging safely in a protected, no-Tony-allowed section of the tower. The guest list is finalized, the seating chart approved by both Bruce and Natasha, the menu confirmed, the flowers—despite Thor’s best efforts—mostly Earth-based and non-sentient.

Tony has started counting down the days with a marker on the fridge like a child waiting for Christmas. Every morning he puts a red X over the date with the flair of a man who’s waiting for his reward at the finish line.

You’re excited. You’re happy. You’re also exhausted.

Between fitting appointments, final walkthroughs of the venue, constant emails, and all the little decisions that never seem to end, your brain feels like it’s been stuffed with confetti. Pretty, yes. Useful, no.

But you manage. You stay kind, patient, grateful, because these people—this mismatched, chaotic, wildly dramatic little team—have thrown themselves into your wedding planning like it’s a top-priority mission. You love them for it. You love Tony for dragging them into it. You love everything about how personal and messy and strange this whole experience has been.

Until it breaks.

It starts with a phone call. You’re halfway through checking the RSVP confirmations when your phone rings. Natasha’s name flashes on the screen. You answer without hesitation, still scribbling notes with your other hand.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She’s quiet for a second. Then, “The venue’s flooded.”

You stop writing. “What?”

“There was a pipe burst. Something about a pressure valve and a broken sprinkler system. Water damage everywhere. They’re saying it’s unusable for at least two weeks.”

Your stomach drops. You feel the blood drain from your face.

“But—we’re getting married in four days.”

“I know. I’m already calling around for backups.”

You try to stay calm. Try to be rational. It’s just a place. A building. There are other buildings. But this wasn’t just avenue. It was the venue. The one that made your eyes light up when you walked in for the first time. The one that made Tony say, “Yup, this is it,” before you’d even gotten past the lobby. The one where you’d imagined everything—your walk down the aisle, your first dance, the way the light would hit the stained-glass windows as you said your vows.

Gone.

You thank Natasha. You hang up. You sit there for a few minutes, just breathing.

When you go to tell Tony, he’s mid-conversation with Happy and Bruce about generator backups and emergency lighting in case of a power outage. He looks up when he sees your face.

“Hey,” he says, all warmth and confidence. “What’s wrong?”

You open your mouth. You try to speak. Nothing comes out.

Happy excuses himself quietly. Bruce gives you a concerned look, then leaves too. Tony walks over, brows furrowing.

“Talk to me.”

“The venue,” you say, voice shaking. “It’s ruined. A flood. Natasha’s trying to find something else but… there’s no way it’ll be the same.”

Tony is quiet for a second. Then, “Okay. We’ll fix it.”

You nod, but it doesn’t help. Not really. You stay composed until later, when everything’s done for the day and you’re back in your room. The moment the door closes behind you and it’s just you and Tony, your knees buckle.

He’s there before you hit the floor.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until you’re in his arms, shaking and breathless and broken in a way you didn’t expect to be. It’s not just about the venue. It’s the stress and the exhaustion and the feeling of watching something you’d planned and dreamed about slip through your fingers days before it was supposed to become real.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, burying your face in his chest. “I’m sorry, I just—I held it together all day and I didn’t want to ruin it for anyone and now I—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” His voice is soft, grounding. He pulls you into his lap on the bed, arms around you like steel. “You don’t have to apologize. Not to me. Not ever.”

You clutch at his shirt, your tears soaking into the fabric. “I just wanted it to be perfect.”

Tony kisses your forehead, your temple, the top of your head. “It will be perfect. Not because of the venue. Not because of the cake or the flowers or anything else. Because I’m marrying you. And that’s the part that matters.”

You try to breathe. Try to calm down. It takes a while.

He doesn’t rush you.

He just holds you, letting you cry it out. When you’re finally able to sit up and look at him, your eyes are puffy and your nose is stuffy and you feel like a mess.

He brushes your hair out of your face and smiles. “Still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You laugh wetly. “Liar.”

He grins. “Only a little.”

He helps you into bed, wraps you in blankets, orders your favorite food without asking. You eat in bed, curled against him, your hand in his, your heart aching but not quite as broken as it was before.

You fall asleep in his arms, exhausted.

The next morning, he’s gone when you wake up.

You blink blearily, expecting to find a note or maybe a text. Instead, you get Bruce knocking gently on the door with a mug of coffee and a nervous smile.

“Tony wants you on the roof.”

“The roof?”

He nods. “Just go. Trust me.”

You throw on some clothes and make your way up, still rubbing sleep from your eyes. The elevator opens, and you step out into—

Magic.

The roof has been transformed.

There’s a platform built on the far end, draped in soft white fabric, like a makeshift altar. Rows of sleek chairs line the area, facing the skyline. Twinkle lights hang overhead, and flowers—real, Earth-approved ones—spill from every corner. There’s a soft breeze, the scent of roses and something faintly citrusy in the air. The city stretches out behind it all, breathtaking.

And standing in the middle of it, wearing a suit and a grin and holding a cup of coffee in each hand, is Tony.

You just stare.

“What is this?”

“Your new venue,” he says, walking over to hand you a cup. “It’s got a hell of a view.”

“You—how?”

He shrugs. “Told Friday to run a logistics sweep. Got some contractors up here overnight. Bruce handled power. Natasha blackmailed the city into expediting a permit. Thor brought a truck full of flowers. Happy made sure nobody fell off the roof.”

You’re speechless.

He looks proud. A little smug. Mostly just happy. “It’s not the original plan. But I figured... why not get married right where we fell in love?”

You blink. “We fell in love on the roof?”

“Kind of. First time I realized you were the one? You were yelling at me up here after I blew up the north wall during that party. You looked incredible, even covered in plaster dust. Told me I was reckless and stupid. Then kissed me before storming off.”

You laugh. “I remember that.”

“I never forgot it.”

You look around again. It’s beautiful. It’s not what you planned. It’s better.

Tony takes your hand. “Say yes.”

You smile through the tears starting to form again. “I already did.”

“Say it again.”

“Yes.”

He kisses you, right there in the morning light, on the roof of the tower, surrounded by the strange, beautiful life you built together. And you know—no matter what else goes wrong, no matter what chaos the next few days bring—this is the part that matters. This is the part that will last.

And somehow, it’s perfect.

---

Tony starts complaining the moment the bachelor and bachelorette parties are mentioned.

“Why do we have to split up?” he whines, slumped dramatically across the couch like it’s the worst news he’s ever received. “We’re getting married. This is the opposite of the point.”

You’re sitting beside him, casually going through a list of last-minute tasks. “Because that’s how it works, babe.”

He lifts his head. “That’s how it used to work. Back when people thought it was cool to black out in Vegas and wake up with a hangover and a questionable tattoo.”

“You’re not getting a tattoo.”

“I might,” he says, then quickly backpedals when you raise your eyebrows. “Okay, I won’t. But still—what if I just... come to yours? I could wear a wig. No one would know.”

You laugh, leaning over to kiss his temple. “You’ll survive one night without me.”

“Bold of you to assume.”

But despite all his theatrics, he agrees. Mainly because Natasha tells him she’ll tase him if he ruins the plan, and Steve says something about “tradition” in that annoyingly calm voice of his. Bruce promises it won’t be wild, just a chance to relax, unwind, and have fun before the big day. Happy says nothing, just sighs in quiet resignation because he knows he’ll be dealing with the fallout either way.

You and Natasha plan your night first. You’re not interested in strippers or weird party games. You want good food, good drinks, and your friends. She books a private space at your favorite rooftop bar, the one with the soft lighting and the killer mocktails, because she knows you’ve been trying to cut back a little during wedding prep. She invites only the closest people—Bruce is obviously excluded, and Tony’s already been banned—but she manages to wrangle in a few of your girlfriends from outside the tower. It’s the kind of night you’ve been too busy to even consider having lately.

Tony sees you before you leave. He doesn’t say much. Just stands in the doorway of your shared closet, arms folded, watching you get ready with a pout on his face.

“You’re going to be gone for hours.”

You give him a look in the mirror. “You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Steve’s literally picking you up in fifteen minutes.”

“That’s not comforting.”

You walk over and smooth your hands over his chest. “We’ll both have fun. Then we’ll meet back here and tell each other everything. Deal?”

Tony leans down to kiss you slow, sweet, and just a little smug. “You’ll miss me.”

“I always do.”

He lets you go with another kiss and a dramatic farewell. “If I die of boredom, tell my AI children I loved them.”

Natasha is already waiting by the elevator when you step out. She gives you an approving look. “Looking good, bride-to-be.”

“You too,” you say with a grin. “Ready to party?”

“Let’s cause minimal but memorable chaos.”

Your night is perfect. It’s everything you need it to be. Laughter, drinks, a killer view of the city. Your friends are loud and affectionate, spilling stories about your past, sharing toasts that are equal parts hilarious and heartfelt. Natasha orders food like you’re feeding an army and refuses to let anyone lift a finger, even the servers.

You catch up with people you haven’t seen in months, soak in their excitement and support, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like a human being again instead of just a stressed-out checklist machine. Natasha gets you to dance—badly—on the patio, hair blowing in the wind, drink in one hand, the other raised to the sky like you're invincible.

The night flies.

Meanwhile, Tony’s version of a bachelor party is exactly what you'd expect.

Steve insists on something classy. “A night of celebration, not debauchery,” he says with conviction.

Thor brings the opposite energy. “There must be mead! And feasting! And perhaps a minor battle!”

Bruce sighs. “Please no battles.”

They settle on something in the middle: a private lounge downtown, secure and quiet but with excellent food, a vintage liquor selection that Tony personally curated, and enough space for Thor to swing his arms dramatically without hitting anything fragile.

Tony pretends to sulk for the first hour. “She’s probably having more fun than me,” he mutters into his drink.

Steve rolls his eyes. “She’s with Natasha. That means at least three emergency escape routes and zero felonies.”

Tony lifts his glass. “To functional chaos.”

Despite himself, he ends up enjoying the night. Thor tells dramatic stories that may or may not be true. Steve manages to get a little tipsy, which is both rare and hilarious. Bruce brings out a toast so heartfelt that Tony actually gets quiet for a minute after it. Happy mostly drinks and keeps a watchful eye on the rest of them like a chaperone who gave up on enforcing the rules but still doesn’t want anyone to die.

There are gifts, mostly joke ones. Thor gives him a ceremonial Asgardian dagger and declares it a wedding token. Steve presents him with a framed photo of the team, signed like it’s a yearbook. Bruce gives him a box labeled “for emergencies only,” filled with calming teas and a card that says don’t blow anything up in neat handwriting.

At one point, Tony slips away to the balcony and checks his phone. He doesn’t message you—he promised not to—but he stares at your contact photo for a while, smiling like an idiot.

Back at your party, you’re sitting with Natasha on a velvet bench, sipping water and watching the skyline.

“You doing okay?” she asks.

“Better than okay,” you say. “This was perfect. I didn’t think I needed it, but I did.”

She nods, eyes flicking to your face. “You love him.”

You look at her. “Of course I do.”

“Good. Because if you hurt him, I’ll end you.”

You laugh. “He said the same thing about you.”

She smirks. “Smart man.”

Eventually, the party winds down. People hug you goodbye, kiss your cheek, tell you they can’t wait for the big day. Natasha rides back with you, quiet and content, until the elevator doors open and you both step into the penthouse.

Tony is already waiting.

You don’t even say anything. You just walk straight into his arms. He smells like whiskey and something expensive, and he wraps around you like he’s been waiting all night for this.

“Miss me?” he mumbles into your neck.

“Always.”

He pulls back to look at you. “Did you have fun?”

“So much.”

He grins. “Me too. Don’t tell Steve.”

You press your forehead to his. “We’re getting married tomorrow.”

He exhales slowly, like he still can’t quite believe it. “Yeah. We are.”

And for a moment, in the quiet, it’s just the two of you again—no planners, no checklists, no chaos. Just love. Raw, overwhelming, and real.

You fall asleep wrapped around each other, wedding on the horizon, the city quiet outside the windows. Whatever comes next, you’re ready.

Together.

The morning of the wedding is clear and warm. Not too hot, not too cold, and not a cloud in sight. It’s like the universe knew you needed one day to go exactly as planned. The whole tower is buzzing with activity—hairdryers, zippers, camera clicks, and Bruce muttering to himself as he tries to figure out how to tie a bowtie.

You’re tucked away in a private suite upstairs, surrounded by soft music and the quiet murmur of Natasha and a few close friends. Your dress is hanging from a rack, safe and perfect. You’d kept it hidden for so long that just seeing it now makes your heart jump.

Natasha walks up behind you with a coffee. “You nervous?”

You take a sip and nod. “Yeah. But also no. It’s weird.”

“Good weird?”

“The best kind.”

She grins. “He’s been pacing downstairs since dawn.”

You smile. That sounds right.

Downstairs, Tony is pacing. In a tux. With the sleeves already half-rolled because “this is a wedding, not a hostage situation.” Steve is trying to get him to calm down. Happy gave up and is just watching from the corner like a man who’s seen some things.

“I just don’t want anything to explode,” Tony mutters, adjusting his cufflinks again. “That’s not unreasonable, right?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “No. But I think you’re more likely to explode than anything else.”

“I’m holding it together.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m emotionally stable,” Tony says. Then he turns and yells, “WHERE’S THE FLOWER GUY?”

Bruce appears in the doorway with a box of tissues. “Thought you might need these.”

“I’m not crying.”

“Yet.”

The rooftop looks stunning. Twinkle lights, soft flowers, sunlight hitting the city skyline just right. Thor is waiting in the front row, wearing something that might be armor but also might be a tux. No one’s sure. Natasha is in her seat, legs crossed, sunglasses on, looking like she runs the world.

Then the music starts.

Tony’s heart skips a beat.

And then you’re there.

Walking toward him, dress flowing, eyes locked on his. Everything else fades. The noise, the nerves, the people. It’s just you. Every step is one closer to forever, and Tony’s face—usually smug, snarky, or smugly snarky—softens completely. His eyes shine.

“You’re late,” he whispers when you reach him.

“You’d wait,” you whisper back.

“Forever.”

The ceremony is simple. Funny. Sweet. Bruce officiates because he’s the only one calm enough to speak without breaking into tears. He keeps it short. He says, “I’m not going to make a speech, because let’s be real, this is already the most emotionally overwhelming moment in this tower’s history.”

Everyone laughs. Even Natasha.

Vows come next. Yours are heartfelt. You talk about love in chaos, about finding peace in Tony, about the way he made you believe in things again.

Tony’s are half promises and half jokes. He swears to never leave a project unfinished. He vows to keep kissing you every morning, even if you’re grumpy. He says he’ll always let you have the last slice of pizza, even if it hurts.

“And I promise,” he says, voice catching a little, “to love you when things are good, when they’re bad, and even when I’ve accidentally set something on fire.”

“Again?” you murmur.

He grins. “Probably.”

You kiss. The team cheers. Thor yells something in Asgardian that no one translates. You think it’s something like “long may they party.”

The reception is chaos in the best way.

Food everywhere. Laughter. A playlist that bounces from soft romantic to complete dance-floor anarchy. Tony spins you around on the dance floor like he’s waited his whole life to do it. He steps on your dress. You step on his foot. You both laugh so hard you forget the choreography you didn’t practice.

Steve gives a speech that’s so sincere you almost cry. Then Thor follows with a toast involving a large mug, the phrase “battle love,” and a story about two trolls who fell in love during war.

Bruce tries to restore balance with a nerdy but touching tribute. Happy just nods from his seat and raises his glass, the most heartfelt gesture from him yet.

Natasha hands you a shot and says, “To surviving the planning. May the marriage be easier.”

At one point, you catch Tony sneaking extra slices of cake behind the display. He holds one out to you with a wink. “Marriage is about sharing.”

You take the bite. “It’s also about not stealing the desserts before the official cutting.”

“Same thing.”

You laugh, leaning against him as the music swells.

By the end of the night, your feet hurt, your face aches from smiling, and you’re more in love than you’ve ever been.

The next morning, you wake up next to your husband.

It’s weird and wonderful to think of him that way. He’s already awake, lying on his side, head propped on his hand.

“Morning, Mrs. Stark.”

You roll over and smile. “Hey, husband.”

“You want coffee, or do we open gifts first?”

You blink. “You want to open presents before caffeine?”

Tony shrugs. “Some of them are suspiciously shaped. I have questions.”

You end up dragging a giant pile of gifts into the living room and dumping them on the floor. It’s like Christmas, except the tags say things like “To the newlyweds” and “Open in private, for legal reasons.”

The first few are sweet. A framed painting of your wedding venue, pre-flood, from Bruce. A handmade quilt from one of your old college friends. A gorgeous bottle of rare wine from Happy with a note that says “Don’t drink this unless it’s been a really long day.”

Then it gets... less sweet.

From Thor: A polished Asgardian fertility idol. It’s very detailed. You both stare at it for a while.

Tony nods. “So we’re having a conversation with HR later.”

From Natasha: A small black box. Inside, several tasteful but unmistakable... accessories. She’s labeled each with helpful instructions. One is labeled “for stress relief.”

You laugh so hard you fall over. Tony takes one look and says, “I have questions, but also, respect.”

From Steve: A thick book titled Marriage: A Field Manual. Inside, he’s made notes in the margins. Actual notes. With diagrams.

Tony flips through it. “Did he annotate a marriage guide?”

You lean over. “Is this a strategy section?”

“Oh my god, he included tactical retreat advice.”

From Bruce: A gift certificate for couple’s therapy. You blink at it. Then open the card. Prevention is better than reaction, he wrote. Also, it comes with a free massage session.

Tony nods. “Okay, not mad.”

The best one might be from Happy. It’s a plain envelope. Inside is a photo of Tony, asleep at his workbench, drooling on a half-built gadget. The caption reads You’ve come a long way, kid.

Tony goes quiet after that. Just holds the picture and smiles.

Later, you find a small box hidden behind the others. There’s no name, just a tiny tag that says for when you remember why you did this.

Inside is a tiny hourglass. The sand flows so slowly it takes a full hour to drop. There’s no note. But you don’t need one.

Tony wraps an arm around you, holding you close on the floor.

“You know,” he says, “for all my griping... this was kind of perfect.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “Because you married me?”

“Exactly. And because Thor didn’t accidentally blow something up.”

“Yet.”

He kisses your forehead. “I like being your husband.”

“You’re good at it so far.”

“I plan to get even better.”

You close your eyes, content and warm and more loved than you ever thought possible.

And as the sunlight pours through the windows, filling the room with soft golden light, you realize this is only the beginning.

And it's already everything.

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mehwmidklpe · 3 months ago

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hai can i pretty plz request an elliot fic where reader and elliot are casual, and reader doesn’t like physical touch but one day elliot is high and he hugs her when he sees her or smth and then she has a sort of realization moment where she realizes she doesn’t hate it when elliot is affection 😛 idk im bad at writing bruzz but THANK U 🙏🙏

omg I love this!

Physical touch?

You hate it.

It scares you.

It disgusts you.

You hate it.

Everytime Maddy tried to hug you, you stepped back. Everytime someone's parent laid a hand on you you fliched.

The disliking cale frol different sides:

You just don't like being touched.

You're traumatized.

It just makes you feel uncomfortable.

You're not that open.

You don't tend to get close to people.

But then you met Elliot.

He was everythung you were against. Drugs, alcohol, sex, parties, tattoos, drinking.

But you got close to him.

Closer then you'll ever get to a person. You just knew it.

So how did that work? No idea.

Right now, you were walking up the staurs to Elliot's room. You had agreed to meet up at his place today.

But unfortunately, when you walked into the room, the strong smell of drugs and smoke filled your poor nose.

And there he was.

Elliot in all his glory.

Snorting some drugs before smoking a cigarette.

It took him a second to notice you, but when he did, a smile spread across his lips.

"Y/n." He stood up, walking up to you.

"You're high. Like not the usual amount of high for you." You acknowledged.

Normally Elliot could control his drugs use. Way better than Rue. He still had enough sense in him.

But now, the boy was wasted, and it concerned you, it scared you, it frustrated you.

"How much did you take?" You ask him, looking around the room.

Ciggartes were all around, bottles of alcoholic drinks were present, too and some sort of drugs you didn't recognize all over his guitar that laid on the ground.

Music was playing, hinting at how he'd probably had a blast on the process of getting high before you had arrived.

"Elliot, how much did you take??" You repeated, raising your voice, demanding an answer out of him.

He only smiled, staring at you like you were the most beautiful view he had ever laid his eyes on.

"Doesn't matter." He brushed it off, walking up to you.

"I missed you so much."

Too close.

He was too close.

"Elliot–" But before you could protest, his arms were around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

Normally you would've pushed whoever did that to you away.

But the thing is.. you didn't want to. This.. this felt nice.

Too nice.

How's that possible?

A slight frown rested on your forehead as your hand automatically, but slowly came up to the back of Elliot's head, settling in his dyed blonde curls, your other hand resting on his back.

And for the first time, you didn't want to let go.

Instead you brought him closer.

This shouldn't feel so good. This is a drug addict your holding onto.

You could feel him hum against your skin. "You smell good." He acknowledged.

That's when he started walking you towards his bed, never letting go of you as he does.

You felt him lay you down, but you spoke again once your back hit the matress.

"Elliot." "Y/n."

He cuddled into you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him.

'The dyed blonde haired boy's eyes closed in satisfiction, relaxing into your touch. "You're warm.." He smiled, his breath hot on your skin.

The dyed blonde haired boy's eyes closed in satisfiction, relaxing into your touch. You're warm.." He smiled, his breath hot on your skin.

A sigh escaped your lips. "We shouldn't." You tell him. "Why not? It feels nice." The boy pouts. "It's the drugs." You remind him.

"No drugs can make me feel like this."

That was all it took to make you turn around and face him. And this time, for the first time, you cuddled into him.

Cause maybe Elliot was an exception. Maybe when it comes to Elliot, you did like being touched, being affectionate, being cared for, being loved.

All you wanted was for him to become clean so that you knew it was real.

And if it really was, you'd allow yourself to give yourself to him.

give me more Dominic/Elliot requests PLEASE! I'm begging y'all

#dominic fike #dominic fike x reader #dominic fike euphoria #dominic x reader #don't forget about me #what could possibly go wrong #sunburn #14 minutes #fic #imagine #x reader #elliot euphoria #euphoria #euphoria season two #euphoria season 3 #elliot euphoria x reader #euphoria hbo #euphoria x reader

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cheolhub · 2 years ago

Note

sar baby 😻 light of my life, HAPPY ONE YEAR! I COULD NOT BE MORE PROUD OF YOU!!

now business: can i have juyeon with the prompt “that really does make you hard. i can feel you pulsing inside me.” 👹

6:10 p.m. — lee juyeon

prompt. “that really does make you hard. i can feel you pulsing inside me.”

wc. 1.6k [srsly idk how to write a drabble under 1k]

warnings. switch!juyeon, switch!reader, needy juyeon, heavy praise, several uses of good boy, pet names [baby], unprotected sex, creampie, kinda messy sex? – MINORS DNI 18+

note. keir, my angel, my bff <# thank u so so much! u know i for sure would’ve deleted this account if you hadn’t been here to keep me grounded (as u always do.) i love u more than u will ever know & i will forever thank the universe for bringing u 2 me 🤬!! & THANK YEWWW FOR REQUESTING OUR BELOVED, SLUTTY JUYO! i hope u like it (not proofread bc u usually do that for me hahah)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ join the birthday bash! ࿐ྂ

p.s. this is my first tbz work… plz be gentle 🫡

you swear greed will be lee juyeon’s downfall. gluttonous and insatiable, the crazed, unhinged man cannot keep his hands off of you for the life of him.

you think he’d die if he went a half day without touching you, kissing you, fucking you– that, or he’d die from the lack of attention.

it’s almost concerning. almost… sometimes, you can’t be bothered to care when it feels like you’re on cloud nine every time he puts his hands on you.

but sometimes, you are bothered by it.

“baby, i’m busy,” you mumble, typing away at your laptop. you’re hyper focused on the work document in front of you, the blue light straining your eyes. “just give me a little.”

he’s standing behind your chair with his arms crossed, a small pout etched into his lips.

“you said you’d be done by 6? it’s 6:10…” he sulks and you crack a smile, spinning your chair around to look at your pouty boyfriend.

you grin, “what, are you timing me now, juyeon?”

he sighs dramatically, “‘course ‘m not, but you promised me you wouldn’t be working past 6.”

“i have to get this spreadsheet done before tomorrow morning, baby. and i would’ve gotten it done this morning if a certain someone didn’t beg me to stay in bed with them.” you joke lightly, “do you want me to get fired or something?”

the frown on his face deepens as the smile on yours spreads. “you know i don’t… i just miss you.” he sighs, dropping his arms by his sides. “feels like i haven’t seen you in hours. tired of you doing work when you can be doing other things worthy of your time. like me, for example.”

you reach out, taking his hands into yours. “two. you lasted two hours, juyeon.”

“two hours too long.” he whines softly and you can’t help but find him so endearing. “baby, please, just… just take a break.”

he doesn’t wait for you to object, pulling you up to your feet and dragging you back into your bedroom and you groan, knowingly. you’re not getting that damn spreadsheet done until he’s fucked himself to sleep.

“you have to be quick, juyo. i wanna finish my work before it’s too late to order takeout.” you tell him as he tugs you, to which he mumbles a ‘yeah, yeah.’ it’s obvious he has no intention of acting in accordance with your wishes.

because when you’re in your room, he pulls you in for a desperate kiss. he moans into your mouth as his hands squeeze your hips and pull you so you’re flush against his body. you feel his hard cock through the thin material of his shorts when he grinds into you.

you pull back with a breathy giggle, “baby, how are you already hard?”

“i’ve been hard for an hour now.” he huffs, gripping you tighter. he lowers his voice till it’s just barely above a whisper, “kept thinkin’ ‘bout how… how you called me your good boy… and how you told me how good my cock made you feel. looked so pretty and you felt so fucking good, baby. wanna feel you around me again. need to.”

you let out a sharp breath, mind wandering back to the long hour he had your ankles resting on his shoulders this morning. your cunt pulses as you remember how he fucked you so nice and so deep while you brainlessly babbled out praise. most of it being incoherent comments about his perfect cock.

curse lee juyeon and his dick for turning you on when it shouldn’t.

he groans, digging himself into your clothed tummy. “gonna let me fuck you, yeah?”

you moan softly, arousal probably soaking through your shorts with how wet you are. “as long as you’re quick, then you can, baby.”

he nods mindlessly, but he’s ignoring that request again.

he leisurely shimmies your shorts and panties off and then his own shorts– he has on nothing underneath and you wish you could say you were surprised– before guiding you onto the bed. he towers over you, repeatedly slapping the head of his cock against your clit and laughing softly as you moan and jerk underneath him.

you huff at his taunting, “stop that,”

he feigns innocence with a faux pout, “stop what?”

two can play at that game.

“juyeon?” you jut your bottom lip out, “you wanna be my good boy, don’t you?”

it’s like a flip switches on inside of him. he’s left breathless, nodding his head eagerly like a puppy, pulling his cock away from your clit.

“good. now fuck me and be quick. i’m not gonna tell you again.” you command, voice rigid and unforgiving.

he doesn’t protest, he doesn’t complain, instead he obliges without an ounce of hesitation. he lines himself up with your entrance– where you clench around absolutely nothing– pushing the tip of his cock into you slowly.

you inhale sharply, the air in your lungs fleeing quickly as you feel your walls stretch to accommodate his size. you have to tell your body to relax at the sudden invasion, unclenching so he can push himself in deeper.

“baby,” he moans, throwing his head back. “you’re so fucking tight. oh, fuck–”

“j-just keep moving, juyo, i can take it.” you manage to tell him, voice cracking ever so slightly towards the end of your sentence.

you whimper softly when he bottoms out. his cock fills you like no other and the thought has you clamping around him, walls molding to his shape just as they’re meant to.

juyeon pulls out with a whine and pushes back into you slowly. you’re sure he’s doing it for his own sake. any faster and your poor, pent-up baby is going to cum embarrassingly quick.

but you have other things you need to do, so this needs to go at your preferred pace.

“go faster, baby,” you say airly.

he reluctantly speeds up, giving you deep, precise thrusts. he lodges his bottom lip between his perfectly straight teeth attempting to bite back the ridiculously needy sounds his body wants to expose.

and you notice, letting out a giggly moan. “that’s it, baby. you’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” you coo at him.

juyeon gasps, releasing his lip so a broken moan can slip past them, his cock twitching uncontrollably inside of you.

you hum in delight, “hmmm, that really does make you hard, huh?” you ask rhetorically. “i can feel you pulsing inside of me.”

and you can. he’s throbbing in between your walls like he’s about to bust inside of you and it’s filling you with the utmost joy. when you’d met juyeon forever and a year ago, you wouldn’t have thought he’d be so easy to reduce to a mess. you’re not complaining, though. not when he sounds so pretty cursing and moaning for you like a cute bitch in heat.

“fuh-fuck, again– please, s-say it again.” he begs, eyes pleading and eyebrows knit together.

you moan softly, willing to give him everything he wants. “cock feels so good. you’re fucking me so good, juyeon. you’re such a good boy.” you needily place your hand between your thighs, right above where his cock meets your messy cunt. your fingers quickly find your clit, rubbing at the swollen bud in tandem with his now-erratic thrusts. “my good boy.”

you clench around him as the words tumble out of your mouth and juyeon’s eyes nearly roll. he cries out needily, “close. ‘m close, baby–”

you rub your clit faster and squeeze him tighter, mewling out your reply. “cum for me, baby. cum inside me ‘n fill me up.”

he whines, pounding into your harder and harder before his thrusts cease and he’s pressed deep inside of you. his warm seed spills, coating your walls as he lets out a long, drawn out groan of pleasure.

he wants to collapse, but he knows you haven’t gotten off.

so before he can completely come down from his high, juyeon resumes his thrusts. you feel his release spill every time he pulls out of you and it’s messy. a sloppy, wet noise sounds every time his balls slap against your cum coated cunt.

juyeon is surely overstimulated. you can tell by the babbles of him begging you to cum and the rolling of his eyes and the whimpers and mewls that are driving you absolutely feral underneath him.

you don’t last much longer after that, body jolting as you feel the tightrope in the pit of your tummy snap. your walls envelope his cock into a tight hug as you completely release over him. you cry with his name dying on your tongue, the earth-shattering orgasm washing over you.

he has to force himself to stop fucking you. tears brim in his eyes right before he collapses on top of you, his cock slipping out of your worn pussy. every nerve ending in his body feels like they’ve been electrified and he can’t help but twitch and pant on top of you.

you grunt with his weight on you, “juyo, you okay?” you ask breathily.

“mmm,” he moans in response. he’s fine.

you smile, running your hands through his hair. “you’re gonna let me go back to work now, right? i gave you your fix, so you should be good for at least another two hours. i should be done before then, though.”

he groans, “i dont want you to work.”

“i know you don’t–”

“so stay here with me.”

you huff, “how many times do i have to let you fuck me before you’ll let me work?”

he pulls up and smiles cheekily at you, eyes still a bit dazed. “maybe… three times. or four.”

you scoff, “you are such a piece of work.”

#[ birthday bash ! ]#[ ⭐️: mutuals ! ]#[ 🐈‍⬛: keir ! ]#lee juyeon smut #juyeon smut #the boyz smut #tbz smut

1K notes · View notes

cyripticchronicler · 1 year ago

Note

oki oki so basically a muggle bookstore au where shy!remus is a worker there, f!writer!reader just moving into town, and after a while, shes a regular and remus starts to yk, get a little crushy crush. And it’s mutual 2 so thats gud. He finally asks her on a date or sum when its been 6 months since they like talked with like flowers and chocolate and everything (AWWWWW). THEN THEN THEN, they hang out at his house and the other marauders walk in and be like, “you finally asked her out? BOUT FCKING TIME!” And then they all laugh and hang out then BOOM smut! (If you’re comfortable of course!)

sorry if its a weeee bit long, its 1AM when i saw the cry for requests so 🤷‍♀️

BYEEE! (My signature emoji is 🚐)

Whispers of the Page - Remus Lupin

Pairing: Shy!Remus Lupin x F!writer!Reader

Summary: Having recently moved, you were in dire need of more books. But the last thing you expected was to catch the owner of the bookshop's attention.

Word count: 4k+ (I went overboard)

Warnings: Smut (My first smut ever posted plz be nice) Kissing, shy Remus?? Is that a warning?

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting!! You're my first request EVER so thank you I appreciate it so much! I hope I did your request justice, I tried my hardest :)

Masterlist

⚝⭑☪⭑

Humming quietly, your heels click along the cobbled path. You hold your coat up above your head in a desperate attempt to keep your hair dry. Goosebumps spread over your skin, and you sigh in relief when you find the store you’ve been wanting to visit for weeks now.

Rushing into the warmly lit shop, the bell jingles when you enter. The smell of old books and candles immediately engulfs you, warming your body from head to toe and you shift so your coat is slung over your arm.

Your heeled boots are quiet against the patterned carpet, and you take a few moments to take everything in. The bookshop is covered with books, ones that look brand new and others that have been well loved, their spines cracked and pages doggy-eared. Lamps light the room, placed in every nook and corner of the cramped space.

Looking to the right, you jump slightly when you realise you’re not alone. Standing behind a covered counter stands a young man, book in hand as he reads quietly, fingers turning the page every few minutes. He’s dressed well, an old grandpa sweater tucked into a pair of brown dress pants. His brown, shabby hair shields his face, but you peek at the sight of his sharp jawline.

Wanting a proper look at him, you mutter a “Hello,” heart speeding up when he looks at you, his gentle eyes meeting yours. You didn’t expect him to be so pretty. He’s gorgeous. You knew he’d be if his jawline was any indication. His face is covered with scars, but that doesn't diminish his beauty, it adds to it. His cheeks flush when he notices you staring at him and he looks down to bookmark his book before looking up.

“Hi, welcome. Is there anything I can help you with?” His voice is warm and smooth like honey, a red flush warming his cheeks as he avoids eye contact.

You smile at his shyness, moving to a shelf at grabbing ones you find interesting. “No, thank you. I’ve just moved and I wasn’t able to bring any books with me.” You hold up your hands that are already stacked with books. “I need to stock up.”

You hear him place his book down from where you're inspecting this fantasy book, listening to his quiet steps as he walks towards you. He leans against the shelf beside you, awkwardly placing his hand on his hip before dropping it, falling to his side as he stands straight, cheeks still tinted red.

“Do you need any book recommendations?” He questions, his eyes finally coming in contact with yours. You feel a cool shiver run down your spine but you ignore it. “Yeah,” You shoot him a shy smile, “I’d love some.” It was a slight lie. Sure, you’d love more book recommendations but you definitely didn't need any to add to your long list of books to read.

He starts listing off more books, seemingly more comfortable while he wanders around the store, picking up books as he goes. “So,” He starts, “You said you’ve just recently moved?” He inspects an older-looking book before adding it to the pile.

“Yeah, I decided it was time to leave my home town and focus more on writing.”

“Writing, eh? What do you write?”

Your cheeks heat, though you will them not to, readying for the teasing to come. “I write romance books.” His eyes perk up, shooting me a small smile as he adds another book to the pile. “I love romance books. Written any that I’d know?”

I laugh, following him to the counter. “No, I haven’t published a book. Yet.”

He starts scanning the books, placing them in a brown paper bag as he does. “Well, you must tell me when you do. I want to read it.” His cheeks flush as he speaks the words, hands slightly shaking while he rings you up.

You notice the cost being cheaper than you expected and shoot him a curious look which he just whispers a quiet “Half price.” You will your cheeks not to heat, paying for the books with a barely concealed smile. You go to leave, bag in hand but stop at the exit.

“What’s your name?”

He looks up from where he’s staring blankly at his book. “Remus. You?”

You mutter your name, trying your best to not skip down the pathway, already planning your next visit to the store.

–

Your next visit was only a week later, and your mind coming up with multiple excuses to go back all week until you finally came up with a viable one.

It’s your nephew's birthday soon and he loves reading as much as you do so you’ve decided to stop by the store to pick up a present for him. Bell ringing as you enter, you notice Remus isn’t standing behind the counter like before and frown.

Warm glow guiding your path, you make your way to the young adult section, hands tracing the spines of books as you search for a specific one. Your head turns at the sound of shuffling coming towards you. Heating when you spot Remus making his way to you, a pile of books in hand while he searches for an empty spot on the shelves.

He looks up and jumps when he spots you, eyes wide and cheeks flushing almost instantly. Biting your lip to withhold your laughter, you attempt to control your smile. “Sorry, did I spook you?”

He snaps out of his trance, shooting a bright smile your way. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” He laughs breathlessly, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck before he remembers the books in his hands and hurries to catch them before they fall to the floor.

“You wouldn’t happen to have They Both Die At The End in that pile, do you?” You grin, gesturing to the books in his hands.

“Not on me, but I think I have a couple of copies in the back. Let me just put these books away and I’ll grab one.” You nod and follow behind him while he puts the last few books away, waiting outside the ‘staff only’ door while he goes around back and grabs the book

Your next visit was only a week later, and your mind coming up with multiple excuses to go back all week until you finally came up with a viable one.

He looks up and jumps when he spots you, eyes wide and cheeks flushing almost instantly. Biting your lip to withhold your laughter, you attempt to control your smile. “Sorry, did I spook you?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have They Both Die At The End in that pile, do you?” You grin, gesturing to the books in his hands.

“Thank you,” You grin when he hands you the book, walking to the counter while he follows. You spot a worn book on the counter and recognise it immediately. “You’re reading Pride and Prejudice?”

“Re-reading,” He corrects. “It’s one of my favourite books.” He smiles, stuffing his hands in his pants pocket while he stares.

“It’s one of my favourite books too!” You exclaim, rather too enthusiastically. “It’s tied with Emma.”

He breaks the short eye contact and scans your book. “I haven’t read that yet, but I’ll add it to my list.”

You grow shy, hands fiddling with your sweater nervously. “Yeah, you could tell me what you thought about it, too.” His eyes widen adorably at your words, cheeks red as a tomato while he nods furiously.

“Y-yeah.” He hands you the book and you smile, making your way to the exit. “I’ll see you next time, Remus.”

–

‘Next time’ turned into visiting his shop fortnightly, your bank account getting lighter each time you visited the shop. Over time, through scarce conversation, you’ve learnt that Remus owns the bookshop and is the only one who works there, and that, out of his two best friends Sirius and James, he’s the only one who enjoys reading.

He’s learnt that you’re working part-time at this bakery while you work on getting your first book published and that you’ve been writing for years, but only decided to turn it into a profession recently.

It’s clear that Remus likes books, and he’s visibly more comfortable when talking about them. Instead of his quiet voice, he gets louder and waves his hands around in enthusiasm. You find it adorable and have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking him out every time.

You’re not even sure he likes you. I mean, sure, he’s all blushy and shy around you but he could act like that around everyone.

Months of talking and wandering around the bookstore have gone by, and every day you find it harder to control your infatuation with him.

And, though you admire the beautiful bookshop, you’re dying to actually go out with him.

And that’s what brings you here today, on a cloudy day, rain threatening to fall at any moment. You don’t have any books to buy, or any recommendations you want, you’re only here for one thing and one thing only; to ask Remus out.

The familiar ring of the bell greets you as you enter, your eyes instinctively searching for Remus, spotting him in the corner of the store, his sharp features highlighted by the dimly lit lamps.

He looks up from where he’s dusting a shelf, eyes lighting up as he meets yours. “Hey!” Walking over towards you, he reaches his arm out before awkwardly letting it hang by his side. Casting a look at the ‘Staff Only’ door a few feet away, his hands start fidgeting with his red patterned grandpa sweater. “I uh- I have something for you.” He mutters, suddenly shy as he avoids your eyes.

Your eyes light up, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “Really? You didn’t have to get me anything.” His cheeks flush even redder if possible, and you bite your tongue to hold back a loud ‘awww.’

“It’s in the back. Let me just-” He gestures to the back door before hurriedly walking through it. Your eyebrows raise when you hear loud thumping and quiet swearing.

“Remus? Are you okay?” The sounds of crashing stop immediately and he clears his throat before responding. His voice still cracks when he shouts, “I’m coming!”

That’s what she said.

A second later he comes back out, a hand behind his back as he attempts to hide whatever crinkles behind him. You take a deep breath and feign confidence. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you too.”

He nods in acknowledgement, using his free hand to scratch awkwardly at his nose. “I-I would prefer if I talked first.”

You nod your head, offering him a reassuring smile. He smiles in return before showing me what was behind his back. You can’t stop the small gasp from passing your lips, eyes wide as you take the ‘bouquet’ of books from his stretched-out hand.

“T-” You clear your throat, “This is for me?” Cheeks hot, he nods and rubs the back of his neck. “I-I also bought you chocolates. I wasn’t sure when I was going to see you next so they’re still at home.” He takes a deep breath and meets your eyes. “Go out with me. Please.”

Your eyes widen an unconstrained snort escaping your nose. Cheeks flushing in embarrassment, you slap your hand against your mouth, and you watch as his head hangs in defeat.

You hurry to fix your mistake. “Wait! No, no, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to laugh. I laugh in a lot of situations, whether good or bad- I once laughed at a wed- That doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to say is that I’d love to go out with you.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to-”

One hand still holding the bouquet, you reach your other hand out to rest on his shoulder, successfully gaining his attention as he looks up to meet your eyes.

“I do, I promise. I just found it funny because I came here today to ask you out but you- you beat me to it. I-It was just funny.” You shrug, awkwardly smiling at him.

“So…You do want to go out with me?” You nod and his eyes light up, flashing you a blinding smile. “How about my place? Sunday? I don’t think my roommates will be home.” His eyes widen. “-Not that I’m trying to get ‘lucky’ or anything.”

You nod your head enthusiastically, “Yeah! I’d love that.” Pulling out your phone, he takes it from your hand. “Just text me the address.”

Long, nimble fingers type in your phone and you attempt to distract yourself from his veiny hands. Your heart beats in excitement, mind already racing through what outfit to wear, and how you’ll style your hair.

How you’re going to get any sleep at all over the next couple of days is beyond you.

—

Knuckles against wood announce your arrival as you stand awkwardly in front of the door, comfy leggings and sweater barely protecting you against the cold, frigid air. Thankfully, you don’t have to wait long, Remus’ smiling face comes into view as he opens the door.

“Hey, come in. It’s freezing out there,” He opens the door wider and you don’t hesitate in walking into the threshold, excited to get away from the horrible weather. He shuts the door behind you, the cold wind blocked off as your body finally starts to warm up.

“Wait here,” Remus says eagerly and you nod, taking the time alone to take your shoes off and calm down your racing heart. His house seems nice, a mixture of Remus and his two roommates Sirius and James personalities peaking through the decorations.

You’re inspecting a miniature aeroplane that lays on a table beside the front door when Remus comes back, a pink heart-shaped box in his hand. He spots you looking at the plane and smiles, “James picked that out. He’s training to be a pilot right now. He loves flying.”

You nod in acknowledgement, shooting him a smile as an awkward silence fills the room. He scratches his head awkwardly before seemingly remembering the box. “Oh! T-this is for you.” He all but shoves it into your hands and you take it gratefully, carefully pulling away the heart-shaped lid to look at all the chocolates inside.

You internally aw, “Thank you! I actually got you something as well.”

He perks up, eyes widening in excitement. “Yeah?” You nod, placing the chocolates down on the table and reaching into your bag to pull it out.

His eyes are blown wide, lips slightly parted as he takes the string-bound pieces of paper from you. “No…Is this what I think it is?” He questions in shock.

“If you’re thinking that this is my first official copy of my book then yes.” He’s shell-shocked, flipping through the pages and admiring the cover. “This-this is amazing, I can’t wait to read it.”

It’s like he can’t control himself as he walks closer to you, wrapping you into his arms, the scent of tea and parchment invading your nose as you stuff your face in his neck. You wrap your arms around his waist, too focused on the way he’s holding you to acknowledge the small ‘thank you’ he whispers your way.

Pulling back a bit, you move your head out of his neck to look at him and he looks down at you with hooded eyes, almost like he’s in a daze. You reach up, one hand wrapping around the back of his neck, standing on your tippy toes as you lean forward.

He does the same, licking his plump lips. His hot breath fans your face and your eyes flutter shut in anticipation. Pulling him closer, your lips are centimetres apart-

“Well, well, what do we have here?” You jump out of his grasp in seconds, turning towards the intruder while Remus swears.

“I thought you guys would be back later.” Remus interrogates. You assume the ‘intruders’ are Sirus and James, easily being able to tell who's who from the amount of stories Remus has told you about them.

Sirius is too busy sending Remus a teasing look to respond so James steps up, “We forgot something, don’t worry, Moony. We’ll be out of your hair in no time.” James leaves to retrieve whatever they forgot while Sirius stands, still smirking at Remus.

He ignores Remus’ glare, turning to face you, “Hello! Sorry I haven't introduced myself, I’m Sirius. And you are?” He apologises though he doesn't sound sorry in the slightest.

You tell him your name, watching as he shoots a teasing smile towards Remus.

“I know you! Remus can’t shut up about you. Honestly, it’s either; ‘She looked so pretty today I almost died’ or, ‘Today's the day, I’m going to ask her out.’ Honestly, I probably know everything about you considering how much Remus talks about you.”

Remus groans quietly from beside you and you place your hand on his arm in reassurance - something Sirius doesn’t hesitate to wiggle his eyebrows at. “I’ve heard a lot about you too, it’s nice to finally put a face to a name.”

“-Yes it is.” James returns from his scavenger hunt, wallet in hand. “Hopefully now that Remus has finally asked you out he’ll stop talking about you so often. It’s always, ‘Her hair is so shiny,’ and, ‘Her eyes are brighter than the sun, they’re the light that guides my path, the sunshine to my moon-”

“Don’t you two have somewhere to be?” Remus’ dark, annoyed voice interrupts, cheeks flaming as he shoots a lethal glare their way.

James’s hands raised in surrender. “Okay then, I guess we should go before Moony over here kills us,” they walk towards the front door, cold air slicing through the warm room, “Remember to wear protection!” He screams before slamming the door shut.

Turning to face Remus, an amused look on your face, he shoves his face into his hands but winces when he realises he’s still holding your book. His muttered threats filtered through the air and you bite your lip to conceal your laughter. He shakes his head, shooting me an apologetic look. “I am so sorry-”

“Why?” You laugh, “They seem great.”

He visibly relaxes, “Really?” You nod, “Yeah. Now, what do you want to do? I have heaps of movie recommendations if you want to watch something.”

—

‘Ugh, as if!” Cher’s voice filters through the dim room, bundled in blankets, your head resting on Remus’ shoulder as you watch the movie.

Eyes straying from the screen, you turn your head slightly to look up at Remus. He feels your gaze immediately, “Yes?” He asks, shifting his body so he can see you properly.

You smile, “You’re just so pretty.” His cheeks flush red in record time, hand pulling you closer so your head rests against his chest.

Long, nimble fingers play with your hair while the other rests along your back. You’re practically on top of him now, your legs between his own, face propped up against your hands that lean against his chest.

“You’re pretty too,” He mutters, warm eyes tracing every inch of your face, filled with admiration like you were carved by Zeus himself. “Yeah? Are my eyes brighter than the sun? Do I guide your path-”

You barely noticed his small smile before his lips were on yours. Remus’ lips pressed against yours, emitting a muffled moan from your throat. His mouth takes yours in a mix of tongue and teeth, the hand that was resting against your back moving further down, resting on top of your ass.

You prop yourself up with one hand beside his shoulder the other caressing his cheek. The hand that was playing with your hair now resting on your neck, gripped hard as he pulled you in closer, tongue mixing with yours like you were his lifeline.

His lips move down your throat, the feeling in your gut enhancing as his hands move over your body, hair tickling your neck.

“Please,” You gasp when you finally move away, lips swollen and covered in spit. “Please what?” He questions teasingly, thumb reaching out to stroke your red cheeks.

“I need you,” You whisper. Your stomach somersaulted at the hard feeling of something poking your stomach. Spurred on by his reaction, you kiss him again. He doesn’t waste a second in kissing you back, calloused fingers tracing your body, the pull of his lips eagerly smiling against your own.

His mouth moved downwards, planting little kisses down your neck. Slowly, he shifts so that he’s on top of you, a mess of tangled limbs as you reach for his lips again. One of his hands slides over your hips and up your shirt.

You gasp at the feeling of his warm hands against your cold body, goosebumps trailing after his touch. The other went to your ass, palming gently through your thin leggings. Gently, your hands trailed under his shirt, his hips pressing harder against yours.

“Off,” You mumble through kisses, yanking on his shirt. He pulls away, taking his shirt off in one fluid motion before slamming his lips against your throat, wet mouth biting and sucking at your neck.

You leaned into his touch, quiet moans slipping past your parted lips as you lost yourself in pleasure. Remus’ hips shifted against you, the friction sending a jolt up your spine. Hips moving on their own, you wrap your legs around his jean-clad waist, moving your hips against him, another jolt of pleasure shooting through you.

He groans against your neck, hips meeting yours in sharp thrusts. Hands reaching behind you, he unhooks your bra and slowly drags it down your arms along with your shirt, tossing it to the side.

“You’re so beautiful,” He mutters against your soft skin, his right hand cupping your breast, his other hand sliding lower, rubbing circles against your hip. Gently, his right hand needed the flesh firmly, occasionally squeezing. Your nails dig into his bare back, scratching down the rough skin.

He started rolling your hard nipple between his fingers, your cunt clenching around nothing. Desperate for something, you rut harder against his covered lap, whining in disappointment while he chuckles.

“You want more, huh?” He asks and you nod desperately. Slowly, his hand lets go of your breast, replaced by his mouth, tongue swirling around your nipple. Warm hands trail down your stomach, playing with the waistband of your leggings before pulling them down completely, panties following soon afterwards.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks and you nod. “Words, sweetheart.” Pulling away, his head eyes track the way your cunt clenches around nothing, wetness running down your thighs as he laughs deviously.

“I want you so bad. Please-” You gasp when his lips land on your left thigh, biting softly as his hands need the flesh roughly. You swallow hard, focusing on the way his mouth gets closer and closer, warm lips kissing up your thigh and towards where you really want him.

The feel of his warm, pointed tongue running up the length of your cunt has your back arching against the sheets, hands reaching out to grip his hair, pulling on the strands desperately as his tongue circles your clit.

His tongue barely dips inside you before running through your slickened folds, the vibrations of his moans further spurring you on. Soft licks against your slit have your hips bucking up into his face, your head falling back against the pillows as you lose yourself in the pleasure.

Your mind goes blank at the feeling of a long, veiny finger filling you up, finger pumping into you while he sucks your clit into his mouth. He adds another finger, stretching you out. Warm breath fanning your cunt, he smirks at you, “Merlin you’re hot.”

You opened your mouth to respond when his fingers curled inside you, eyes snapping shut at the heavenly feeling. Tongue back on your clit, occasionally sucking, you felt your orgasm building up deep inside you, the weight getting heavier when he adds another finger, his moans vibrating through your body.

You were done for, loud moans filling the room, nails holding him against your cunt, thighs shaking around his shoulders as you reach your climax. He works you through it, nimble fingers dragging your orgasm out.

His fingers slip out moments later, your cunt clenching around nothing. You open your eyes to the sight of Remus slipping his slick-covered fingers in his mouth, tongue making sure to get every last bit.

Your hands reach for his pants, hurrying to unzip the denim and pull them down his thighs. “Someone’s need-fuck.” He cuts himself with a groan, head falling against your shoulder as your hands reach into his black boxers, slowly stroking his cock.

He pulls down his boxers, his hard cock springing free and you have to withhold your moan. He reaches into the bedside table to grab a condom, playing with his cock before rolling the condom on.

You lay underneath him and watch in wonderment, hands finding their way to your nipples and rolling them between your fingers. “I need you,” You whisper. His hands stop their movements from where they were kneading your thighs, eyes meeting yours. “Yeah?” You nod. “You’ve had me for months now, baby.”

His mouth is back on yours, tongue tracing your lips as he lowers, one hand by your neck, the other holding your thigh up and against his waist. IMpatinelty, one of your hands move downwards to his cock, lining it up against your soaked entrance. He laughs, “Patience, baby.”

He rubs his tip along your slit before thrusting inside you with a groan, your back arching up, nipples grazing his chest as you moan in pleasure.

With one more roll of his hips, he’s fully inside you, chest pressed up against your own as he starts trailing deep kisses down your throat. Your hands fly up, nails clawing at his neck, pulling him closer when he starts moving.

His hips thrust in slow, fluid motions. Reviling in the low groans coming from the man above you. Forcing your eyes to open, you look down to where your bodies connect, cunt clenching around nothing causing Remus to let out a loud moan.

Nails raking over his skin, you pull him in for a kiss, hot bodies moving in sync as he fucks you deeply. One of your hands trails downwards, towards his stomach and you feel his muscles contract in pleasure.

Mouth open, you moaned in pleasure when he brought your other leg up to wrap around his waist, his cock even deeper than before. The sight of his eyebrows pulled together, beads of sweat dripping down your neck as you close, head falling back against the pillow, needy whines leaving your lips as one of his hands finds your clit, rubbing it aggressively.

“You’re such a good girl. Taking my cock so well,” He grunted against your sweaty skin.

You moaned, hips moving faster against his own as you felt your orgasm building up, nails digging into his shoulders. “Your body is perfect. Like it was made for me,” He slurs, hips slamming hard into you, his loud groans mixed with your moans filling the air, toes curling in pleasure.

“Please, I- gonna cum-” You cut yourself off with a loud moan, his hips thrusting into you with incredible speed as you come, thighs shaking around his waist, breaths coming in short pants.

His head falls against your shoulder, thrusts becoming sloppy as he pumps into you, greedily chasing his own high, moans growing louder and louder. One hand reaching up and into his hair, you gently pull the sweat-soaked strands, “Cum,” You whisper into his ear.

“Fuck,” He whispers before coming inside of you, hips abruptly stopping as his mouth falls open against your warm skin. Goosebumps pebble your skin as he gently pulls out of you a moment later, hands rubbing your body as he places kisses against your skin. You can’t control your smile as you watch him dispose of the condom before laying back down beside you on the bed.

You turn your body to face him, eyes tracing his face. You watch his cheeks flush and can’t withhold a laugh. “What?” He asks, hands running through your hair.

“You just fucked the living daylights out of me and still blush when I look at you,” You respond teasingly, resting your head against his bare chest. He places a kiss on your forehead, looking at you like you hung the moon.

“You make me nervous,” He admits truthfully and your heart speeds up.

“You make me nervous, too.” You whisper.

He looks down, his warm breath fanning your cheek. “Does this mean we can go on a second date?” You laugh, slapping his chest playfully, “Fuck off.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” He responds smugly, your heart speeding up at the prospect of going on another date with him.

“It is a yes.”

Taglist:

@aremuslupinsimp

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byechristopher · 2 years ago

Note

chris x squirter gf plz ♥️

keep going. [+18]

– Chris Sturniolo smut.

chris x squirter!gf.

Author's note: you ask and you shall receive. Didn't think about it before this request but shit, that is hot. I hope you enjoy, lovelies. ♡ Don't copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: smut smut smut. Just pure filth. Long. Praise kink, squirter gf, don't know what else. Minors dni. Bye.

"Hey, cutie." I smile even though she can't see me through the phone, "I'm okay, how are you? Everything okay with the date?" I ask her. I am on the bed (I'm pretty sure she is, too), laying on my back and I close my eyes.

I can feel myself getting a little cold and I remind myself I am only in my underwear and a simple, thin white top. Not even wearing socks. Shit. I am a little too comfortable to move and I know Chris is taking a shower so, I just stay like this for a while, still talking to my friend.

I don't know how long it's been but me and my friend have talked about 55 different topics and I completely forget Chris is even home. So when I feel soft lips on my leg, I am a little caught off guard – I open my eyes to see Chris. His hair is still wet, water dripping down his body, he is wearing gray sweatpants. I can see his smile as he slowly trails kisses up my leg, all the way up to my thigh.

"I know right.." I try to keep my voice as normal as possible, although I can barely breath as he moves to the other leg. I'm not sure if I hear what my friend actually says.

Chris massages my thighs as he makes himself comfortable in between my legs. Droplets of water fall from his hair and land on my skin but his kisses make sure to keep me warm. He wraps his arms around my thighs and leans closer to where I need him the most – he rubs the tip of his nose against my panties and I try to supress a moan. He grins and places a soft kiss on the fabric. Then he sticks his tongue out and I almost lose it.

"Yeah.. no.. I mean, I guess?" I don't know what the fuck I am saying, all I know is that my boyfriend is fucking french-kissing me down there and I am dripping for him. I hang up as soon as possible and let out a groan.

"Why do you always do this to me?" I whine as I push my phone to the side (of course making sure it is switched off, just in case), spreading my legs a little wider to make room for him.

"Do what, babe?" he hums and continues locking me down there with my panties still on.

"Teasing me when I'm talking on the phone." I glace at him and he gives me an innocent smile back.

"Mhmm sorry pretty, want me to make it up to you?" his smile is always there, even when he hooks his fingers around my panties, slowly pushing them down.

"You better." I groan and as I am about to spread my legs again, he keeps my thighs together and pushes my legs so that my knees touch my chest. My panties are resting on the back of my knees and I can't see him in this position, but I can feel my pussy dripping.

"Shit, you're already making a mess, baby." he whispers before spreading those lips down there, taking my clit in his mouth, licking it hungrily. He slowly pushes his tongue inside of me and my hand immediately reaches behind my legs, finding his hair and grabbing a fistful of it.

"Please, you've tortured me enough today." I moan as he keeps slowly fucking me with his warm, wet tongue.

"Mhmm, that's true." he keeps his voice quiet and after placing a little kiss on my pussy, he sits up and grabs my panties, finally taking them off completely and throwing them to the other side of the room.

He gets up and I follow him with my eyes, trying to think of what he's doing instead of just fucking me already. I stay quiet, though. He sits on the armchair that is right next to them bed and motions me to come over – a little confused, I do as he says.

"I need to fuck you here, like this, I need to see you bouncing on me."

That's the thing about Chris – he could be the most playful, sweetest, smiley person but then, he says something like this when we have sex and I completely lose it. He's such a dirty-talker, I love him.

I immediately grin at his thought, but before I do exactly that, I get on my knees to take his dick in my mouth, after pushing his gray sweatpants down a bit, not taking them off though. He groans, throwing his head back and I place my hand on his chest, rubbing his skin as I continue to move my head up and down in a slow pace. My hand travels up to his throat and he immediately grabs my wrist, pushing his head forward to look at me with a look full of lust. He grabs the hand that's still on his throat and brings him close to his mouth, taking three of my fingers inside of it and I feel myself getting wetter. He sucks on these three fingers and then pushes my hand down, indirectly telling me to rub his dick with my hand.

"You taste so good." I groan and keep moving my hand as I place a soft kiss on the tip of his cock.

Then, abruptly, he pushes my hand away and grabs my shoulders, making me stand up and taking my shirt off, now leaving me completely naked. He grips my waist, fingers digging in my sides, and he kisses my belly gently before turning me around. My back is now facing him and as I feel him pushing me down to basically sit on his lap, my breath gets stuck in my throat.

"Pretty girl. I've been thinking about you all day." he whispers and I can feel him rubbing the tip of his cock against my pussy. He finds the entrance and without wasting any other time, he pushes me down on his dick. I scream.

"Fucking.. Chris.." my feet are on the ground, knees are bent, body slightly forward with my hands on his thighs and my ass pressed against him.

"Baby, shit.." he moans and leans forward to place a kiss on my back, hands caressing my thighs.

I know he's not moving to make sure I am okay and adjusting, so I take matters to my own hands and support myself on his thighs, starting to move my hips back and forth. He moans and I can almost hear his smile as he leans back again and grips my hips. He starts moving me up and down on him and I can't stop the loud noises that come out of my mouth.

"Babe.. you're fucking wet.. and so warm.. shit." one of his hands rests on my lower back and then drags itself up all the way up to the nape of my neck. He grabs it and pushes me forward, making me arch my back and perk my ass, as he lifts his hips to fuck me like this.

"Chris.. Chris.. yes! Like this.." I moan as he speeds up, his thrusts now becoming faster, rougher. His hands go back to my ass, squeezing it and slapping it, before grabbing it again and guiding me all the way down so he's balls-deep.

"Come on, pretty. Bounce on my dick, I wanna see you fuck yourself on it." he moans and slaps my ass again.

With my hands on his knees now, I start practically jumping up and down on him, his dick filling me up, "mhmm, I can feel you.. so deep.." I moan, bouncing on his cock, my ass slapping against his skin.

"Shit, shit.." he hums and wraps an arm around my waist, his hand moving up to my breast to pinch and tug on my nipple as his other hand goes down to my pussy, his middle finger rubbing my clit in circle motions.

"Chris! Please!" my moans start to get louder but he keeps the same pace.

"What is it, beautiful? Do you want to cum? All over my dick?" I am lost in the pleasure but I know he's smirking.

"Please." I want to cry from the overstimulation, he's been teasing me all day long and I didn't cum all day.

"Mhmm, I'm not done with you, baby. Get up." he says and I whine because I knew it. I keep moving my hips desperately and he smacks my ass. I groan and slowly take his dick out, getting up and turning around to face him. I am a mess.

He doesn't waste much time this once and immediately pulls me into his lap so that I'm straddling his thighs, guiding his cock to where my entrance is and pushes all the way inside me again. I grab his shoulders and start moving my hips, throwing my head back. He takes one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking on it and I look at him, seeing that he hasn't taken his eyes off of my face.

"Like it when I fuck you like this, baby? When I make you mine, over and over again?" he whispers against the skin that's in between my breasts and continues to thrust inside of me roughly.

"I'm.. Chris.. I– please.." I actually feel a tear running down my cheek from all the pleasure and he smiles, grabbing my ass with one hand and rubbing my clit with the other. I lose it.

"It's okay, baby. Don't hold back. I am going to let you cum this time." he hums and places kisses all over me. I want to cry happy tears. A sigh of relief leaves my lips and I lean forward, placing my lips against his, my tongue searching for his immediately. He kisses me hungrily, his dick moving inside of me and his thumb still rubbing circles on my clit.

Then, something weird happens. I can feel a wave of pleasure desperately searching for release, but it's not quite the usual one. It's as if it's something.. more. Something that I have no control over whatsoever.

"Chr.. Chris.." I stutter because I can feel my whole body shaking, trembling.

"You feel it, baby, hm? Are you going to cum all over me?" his thumb presses a little harder against my clit and he thrusts into me faster, "are you going to make me wet, too?" he says and I literally scream, my fingers digging in his chest, "cum, beautiful. Cum."

That's all it takes for me to lift myself up quickly, taking his dick out as he squeezes my ass to keep me closer and keeps rubbing my pussy to keep me going – I let out another loud moan/scream and with my body fully trembling now, I finally let go, my juices coming out of me like water, "fuck, baby yes, that's it" I can hear him say and I can feel him cumming with me but I'm still going and he's now fully covered in my juices, from his chest, to his cock, to his sweatpants.

Utterly exhausted, I let my body fall on his, not caring that we're both covered in cum and sweat. His arms wrap around me carefully, making me curl up on his lap and placing little kisses on my head.

"Baby, you okay?" he mutters, his voice hoarse.

I just nod reassuringly and curl up even more against him. He strokes my hair and grabs one of my hands that's resting on his chest, placing little kisses on my fingers, my palm, everywhere.

"Sorry for making a mess, I didn't know.. you know." I whisper, my eyes closed – I'm tired.

"I love you so much, babe. So much." he hugs my head and rests his chin on it, "you're beautiful."

"I love you too." I place a little kiss on his chest.

"I know. Now, come on. Let's go get cleaned up." he picks me up and I chuckle, hugging him, "also, I didn't know you were a squirter. How much hotter can you get?" he teases and I whine, hitting his chest – he laughs, I laugh too.

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bearw-me · 1 year ago

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Could I request headcannons of the Hazbin Hotel Crew/Staffs Reactions to a batman or moon knight like hero appearing in hell and somehow drastically taking down its crime. (Let's just say they got the information from the news or something)

i didn't know you could request in blue (cutee) and also: AWESOME request!

𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐕𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𐐒 ft : gender neutral!reader, charlie morningstar, alastor, vaggie, angel dust, nifty, husk, sir pentious. katie killjoy mentioned 𐐒 cw : none 𐐒 summary : the news broadcast of a hero in hell is finally being covered, you figured it wouldn't take that long for gossip to spread. . . and it reaches all the way up to the hotel 𐐒 note : tried a format swap! is. . . is it working? + the reader IS gender neutral, only nifty and angel make their typical jokes (plz have mercy on me)

It wouldn't take long for you to show up in the news. Wrapping up your knuckles with medical tape while the television droned on in the background. You listen absentmindedly, occasionally flexing your fingers to see if you still had the ability to move them in the temporary restraints.

And that's when you hear it:

"Local denizens of hell have been reporting unusual sightings of a so-called 'hero' that has appeared in hell."

You glanced over your shoulder, the blue glow of the television screen the only light source in the room.

Katie Killjoy rambled on about a local crime ring falling, a thing you took care of not-so-quietly last night.

There were shadowy pictures of you plastered all over the screen, obnoxious 'eye-catching' titles and arrows surrounding the images.

You sighed, turning away from the gossip and focusing on tacking the medical tape down firmly to your wrist.

It wouldn't be long before all of hell was wondering: what was happening?

Charlie Morningstar! watches the broadcast with her mouth ajar, and when its abruptly cut out she squeals! She's so excited others are motivated to improve hell and are actually helping out! She's definitely someone to see the good in you first. Especially when the broadcast depicts the steady decline of crime in that area of Pentagram city. This is such a good sign!

Alastor! Walks in on everyone staring at the screen. Hates that the tv is on, but watches with interest at the headlines, head cocking to the side so he can be sure he's hearing this correctly. 'Hero'. Is that what they were calling you? He doesn't know what to think of it, but it sure is interesting enough to wonder about you and look into it further. How entertaining.

Vaggie! Is skeptical, she's watching with her arms crossed and brows narrowed, even when the numbers and stats are read out-loud. Maybe the hosts or the channel needed something to broadcast and spiked the numbers. . . or your an aspiring overlord looking for fame and fortune down here. Whatever you're up to, she's sure it can't be out of the goodness of your heart.

Angel-Dust! Is probably lounged on the couch next to Charlie and Vaggie, raising an eyebrow at the news. He makes a joke about how he loves a man in uniform. . . or a mask. Definitely watching how that suit fits you, but he's also a little weary, no matter how hot you are, he (like everyone else watching) doesn't know what to really make of you just yet.

Nifty! Stopped her obsessive cleaning to see what all the commotion is about. Eventually she weaves her way up to the tv screen and stares at your caped image with a sinister smile "Ooh a bad boy!" She genuinely likes how unconventional you are. She'd like to meet you.

Husk! Is watching from over everyone's heads, taking a sip from his flask and listening in instead of gossiping with everyone. He's seen hells hierarchy and the way things work out down here. He's not sure what to make of it. . . but he is interested 'to each their own'. Husk definitely wants to watch or listen out for more though.

Sir Pentious! Slithers up to the couch and starts complaining. He was just on the news! He should've been the one on the broadcast in some amazing story! But when everyone finally manages to shush him and keep listening, he gets all sparkly-eyed at the heroic story that seems to be unfolding before him. Quietly thinks you're really cool and ends up your biggest fan. Especially if you have gadgets and stuff you built yourself!

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the-offside-rule · 8 months ago

Text

Marc Guiu (Chelsea) - i like the way you kiss me pt.2

Requested: yes

Warnings: none (idk who owns this gif, plz let me know if you know x)

Marc Guiu - i like the way you kiss me pt.1

Y/n stood in her brother’s tiny London flat, the late afternoon sun streaming through the window, casting warm light over the scattered shopping bags around her. She was supposed to be enjoying her visit, but instead, she was knee-deep in organizing her younger brother’s things while he attended his first class at university. She sighed, struggling to reach for a box of cereal she had decided to put on the top shelf. Stretching on her tiptoes, she nearly toppled over, but just as she regained her balance, a sudden knock at the door made her jump.

Frowning, she set down the cereal and walked cautiously to the door. As she opened it, her heart dropped. There stood Marc who she hadn't seen since their argument that had left her breathless, and not just from their heated words. “Y/n.” He said, his voice low, eyes searching hers. “Marc.” She replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Both of them froze, memories crashing over them like waves. “Is your brother here?” He asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

“No, he’s at class.” She said quickly, instinctively moving to close the door. “Wait.” He stopped the door with his hand, his expression earnest. “Can I come in?” Caught off guard, Y/n hesitated before nodding and stepping aside, allowing him to enter. The tension in the room thickened as he stepped over the threshold. He watched as she returned to her task, grabbing another item to place on the shelf. She stretched again, reaching for a canister of tea, but it slipped from her fingers, tumbling toward the floor.

“Let me help.” Marc offered, stepping closer. She felt his presence behind her, warmth radiating off him as he moved in to lift the canister effortlessly, placing it on the shelf with ease. As he held onto her hips for support, a familiar spark surged between them. Y/n’s cheeks flushed, heat spreading through her as his breath brushed against her cheek. She dared not turn around, her breath hitching as they lingered in the space between them, the air charged with unspoken words. Then, without warning, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her neck. A shiver ran down her spine, and she melted against him, memories of their first kiss flooding back; the hazy lights of the nightclub, the rush of adrenaline, and the feeling that had lingered long after he left.

But reality crashed back, and she pulled away, breaking the spell. “What are you doing here, Marc?” She asked, her voice steadier than she felt. “I was looking for your brother.” He replied, watching her intently. “But now that you’re here, I think we need to...catch up.” He said, disguising what he really meant; to talk about all those months ago. “I don’t want to catch up.” Y/n insisted, crossing her arms defensively. He stepped closer, determination in his eyes. “But I do. I don’t want to forget it. It meant something, didn’t it?”

“It was just a mistake. You were my brother’s friend!” She argued, the warmth between them replaced by the coldness of reality. Marc shook his head, frustration seeping into his voice. “We’ve both grown up since then. None of that matters anymore.”

“Doesn’t it?” Y/n challenged, her heart racing with conflicting emotions. Marc sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, how about this? If you agree to go on a date with me, I promise to forget about everything else.” Y/n hesitated, the idea both thrilling and terrifying. Finally, she nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But just one date.” A smile broke out on his face, lighting up the room. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Wait, what?” She exclaimed, caught off guard by the sudden decisiveness in his tone. Marc chuckled, stepping back toward the door. “Just get ready. We have a lot to catch up on.”

And with that, he left, leaving Y/n standing in the middle of the room, heart pounding and mind racing. The excitement of the upcoming date mingled with the worry of where this would lead, but one thing was certain; she had never felt more alive.

#football imagines #football #football blurbs #marc guiu fluff #marc guiu blurb #marc guiu x reader #marc guiu imagine #marc guiu smut #marc guiu #marc guiu x you #marc guiu x y/n #football one shot #football oneshots #football one shots #football fanfic #footballer x y/n #footballer x you #footballer x reader

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yazzrouzenheart · 4 months ago

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Lady yazz can you make pregnant papara ( papyrus x chara , undertale ) plz plz plz plz

You are definitely the most radiant flower🌼

🌼🌼Good morning and afternoon to those who see this, I loved the result. To the person who requested it, I hope with all my heart that they like it as much as I do.🌼🌼🧡❤️🧡❤️🧡❤️🧡

I provided many details, I don't want most of my watercolor drawings to have a white background. I loved how everything turned out, it looks so happy 😊🧡❤️🧡❤️.

🌻Last thing, please don't attack or spread hate about this. If you don't like their ship, kindly stop viewing it and don't insult, please and thank you.🌻💖

#drawing #ilustration #ilustracion #flowers #acuarela #undertale #papyrus undertale #chara undertale #papara ship #papara #watercolor #papyrus x chara #adult chara

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dracowars · 10 months ago

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Hii! If requests are open could I get a professor!neville longbottom and professor!reader?shes the potions teacher and theyre "enemies"? Always at each others throats and interuppting classes just to throw snarky remarks and the students are like "omg not again🙄"? Anyway one night a student sees him leaving her room and rumors start abt how they're dating/fucking?? And after a few days of trying to deal with a school of nosy students they "talk it out" which ends up being a make out session in the potions room and they get caught by the students who are like "plz we just wna study😭"??

Thank youuu <3

greenhouse hearts and cauldron sparks | neville longbottom

pairing: professor!neville x professor!reader

word count: 3,4k

summary: where rumours are spread about neville and y/n having a thing

a/n: somehow this was difficult for me to write & i don't even know why, maybe because it's my first for neville and i don't know yet if i got his character right (especially since he is older here). i really tried my best and i hope you enjoy it <3 feedback in any form is much appreciated!

warnings: slight angst, cursing

universe: harry potter

With a set goal in mind and pure determination, you strut through the glass door of greenhouse three and are immediately eyed by more than twenty pairs of eyes, all curious but somehow not surprised. Some of them even look like they were only waiting for this to happen. Again.

"Professor Longbottom, forgive my interruption", you apologize with a smile that does not quite reach your eyes, making your way towards him. "But I need to talk to you. Urgently."

"Welcome, Professor Y/L/N", Neville greets you, not moving from his leaning position on the table, fully concentrated on the plant pot in front of him which seems to be housing a Chinese Chomping Cabbage. Suspiciously eyeing the dangerous plant, you take a small step back. Herbology has never been your favourite subject, not when you went to Hogwarts yourself, not now, not ever.

"You burst in at just the right time! We are about to harvest the first cabbages", he explains, strongly emphasizing you interrupting his class, his eyes still fixed on the pot.

"I actually don't really care right now. All I care about is the huge plant or whatever that monstrum even is that has spread over my desk in the teacher's room", you start whispering now, not wanting the students to hear your words. But since they all still stare at the both of you, their cabbages long forgotten, you bet they could hear you either way.

"Oh, I must have mixed up the tables", Neville simply shrugs but a small smile plays around his lips as he finally turns his head to look at you. You have looked into his eyes several times before, million times even, but it hits you differently every time. His green eyes stare at you for a second too long before he clears his throat and straightens, pulling out the cabbage and putting it into a big crate. Removing his gloves, he leans his hip against the table, his big frame towering over you as you still stand there.

"You did that on purpose", you whisper, more to yourself than to anyone, but the little chuckle that escapes his mouth confirms your assumption.

"I would never do such a thing", he replies, placing the gloves on the table behind him. Scoffing, you look at him in disbelief.

How come that Neville Longbottom, the slanky, shy and nervous boy who hid behind his robes and hair from your school days suddenly became such a cunning and especially handsome professor who tests your patience every day. And most importantly, why does he always look at you like that, as if his eyes want to tell you something more, something deeper. And why, for Merlin's sake, is your heart beating faster every single time you interact.

"It would be much appreciated if you could get rid of this monster as quickly as possible before it eats someone or whatever it is that it does", you repeat, but something about the way he looks at you right now tells you that that probably won't happen any time soon.

"Of course, of course. Once I've got- No! Put that down, Henry. Excuse me for a second, sweetheart", Neville interrupts himself all of a sudden, jumping into action as he quickly runs to said student who is about to get attacked by one of the vicious plants, the nickname he called you still ringing in your ear. On his way there, he runs against a table and knocks over some empty pots. If it weren't for you stopping them mid-air with a spell, they would have shattered into a thousand pieces.

He may not look like the Neville he used to be, but he has not lost his clumsiness. Shaking your head, your gaze follows him, watching as he rescues the student from his demise and you can't help but smile a little at that. He also never lost his genuine sincerity and willingness to help.

As you are waiting for him to return, you notice several of the girls staring at you, whispering to each other as they have certainly seen the way you looked after him. Clearing your throat in an awkward manner, you stand up straight and adjust your robes.

"Alright, well, that turned out differently than expected but wasn't that fun? Never underestimate nature", Neville speaks up now, all heads turning to him. "Please finish your protocols until next week, clean your tables and then you are free to leave for the day."

What initially looks like pure chaos ensuing turns out to actually follow a clear order as the students rush around and do what he says. In a few minutes, everything is back in its place and the students rush out of the greenhouse, ready for their break. On their way out, they also say goodbye to you.

The second the last student leaves, Neville claps his hands together, rubbing them as if he still has something planned. "You know, these things only ever happen when you are around", he teases you, walking back to where you are standing to put his bag on the table and gather his things.

"Well, I'm glad it wasn't me who got attacked by one of your experiments for once", you counter, having lost count of the times you had unpleasant encounters with his plants.

"That is just because they can sense your fear, sweetheart", he smiles while packing up his stuff, making sure everything is neatly placed inside his bag.

"I'm not scared of them", you scoff, ignoring what he called you and what it does to you once more, and you cross your arms in front of your chest as you lean your hip against the table he is still standing at. "They just make me feel uncomfortable and I don't like them. Your experiments certainly didn't make me like them any more, in case you forgot."

"How could I ever forget that", Neville laughs. He does not giggle or even try to hold back his amusement - he just straight up laughs at you as the memories find their way back to him. Huffing out an exasperated breath, you softly shove him to the side which only causes him to laugh even more.

"You are so annoying, do you know that? I can't believe I have to deal with this every day", you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that. You would be bored to death without me", he smiles at you, genuine, and gently pushes his shoulder against yours, coming even closer. He looks at you, the way he always looks at you, and even though you would never admit it, he is right. It would be boring without him.

His eyes are locked with yours, at least until they drift down for a split second, looking at your lips, but it was so fast you are not even sure it actually happened. One of his hands now gently touches your arm and your insides twist.

Until the door to the greenhouse suddenly bursts open and a student comes in. Jumping in surprise, you both put as much distance between the two of you as possible in these few seconds, but the way she stops in the doorway as if she had just interrupted something speaks volumes.

"Uhm- I'm sorry, Professor. Professors. I-"

"Chloe, what are you doing here?", Neville asks her kindly, no signs of nervousness, but out of the corner of your eye you can indeed see how he plays with his fingers.

"I uhm.. forgot my book", she says awkwardly but makes no attempt to move, her gaze switching between the two of you.

"Right", Neville smiles at her, obviously trying to make it less uncomfortable. "Then go get it?"

At his words, she is seemingly brought back to life and quickly runs to one of the tables, grabs her book and rushes out of the greenhouse with lightning speed. Watching her leave, Neville's eyebrows furrow. "What was that about?"

Sighing, you lean back against the table, this time, however, with a lot of distance between your bodies.

"Dear Merlin, we will never hear the end of this now", you say, rubbing your fingers against your temple as you try to wrap your head around what just happened.

"Of what?", Neville asks, curious and seemingly oblivious.

"Of us having a thing."

"What?", he lets out in shock, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you are joking. Oh how much you wish you were.

"Yeah."

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"Don't tell me you haven't heard about it", you answer, turning your body to directly look at him now.

"I honestly don't know what you are talking about."

"I can't believe this", you let out a humourless chuckle before continuing. "The students are talking about us, Neville. Have been all the time."

"And?"

"And they think we fuck", you blurt out and watch as the realization hits him.

"Oh", is all he says to that, his eyes unfocusing and his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink.

"Yeah. 'Oh'. And now we fueled the rumours even more, we have given them even more reason to believe them", you explain, trying your best to not sound too desperate.

When you first heard these rumours, you had to laugh. Neville and you? Never. But over time, you realized where these assumptions came from and you could actually see how someone could possibly come to this conclusion. But there is nothing between you. Right?

"But nothing happened", Neville agrees with your thoughts, looking at you with those beautiful eyes of his. A strand of hair has come loose and hangs over his forehead and you would like nothing more than to gently remove it from his face.

"No. It didn't", you whisper, supporting his statement even though you both know exactly what almost happened. Neville gives you a sympathetic smile before picking up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Anyway, I believe there is a plant I need to take care of", Neville digresses from the topic and even though you welcome not having to talk about this any longer, your heart feels a bit heavier than before. "Also, did you make the potion I asked you for?"

"Of course", you say as you follow him outside, noticing how his hand hovers over the small of your back as he leads you through the door.

════════════

"Professor?", one of your female students asks for you, sitting in front of her and her groups bubbling cauldron. Quickly, you get up from your seat at the front of the classroom and walk to her, smiling as you are thrilled to help with whatever is going on. You have been these students' Potions teacher since first year and now that they have reached seventh year, you have formed an even stronger bond with them.

"Yes? What can I help you with?", you ask once you reach them, leaning over them to take a look inside the cauldron which is exuding a sugary sweet scent. So far, they seem to have done everything right.

"Do you have a husband? Or kids?", she puts the question out there like it is nothing, the other girls at her table looking at you attentively.

"First of all, that is not a question you ask", you remind her and she only shrugs apologetically, making you feel like she actually does not feel sorry at all. "And to truthfully answer your question: No, I have not."

Apparently, your answer triggers something in them, because suddenly the whispering starts again and they look as if they can hardly sit still due to being incredibly excited about something.

"We asked Professor Longbottom the same question this morning", she continues now, suppressing a giggle. "And he gave us the same answer, so we thought that you two would make a good match."

"Oh girls, please", you sigh, trying to suppress a laugh at their endearing faces. "You definitely shouldn't worry about your teacher's relationship status and focus on your grades and upcoming exams instead."

"But Ms. Y/L/N! You would be so cute together!", they all gush, telling you about all the times they have seen you two, how they can clearly tell that 'there is something more going on'. You know you should tell them to continue their task but you just can't stop listening to them.

"When we asked Professor Longbottom, he told us that he thinks you are a wonderful colleague and also quite attractive", one of the girls chimes in, batting her eyelashes at you.

"He certainly did not say that", you retort, shaking your head with a smile at their determination.

"But he did!", they all say in unison, repeating to you all the words he supposedly said about you.

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"Professor? Do you have a moment?"

"Of course. How can I help you?", Neville smiles at the group of girls in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. He has just finished his last lesson for the day and was on his way to the Great Hall for dinner now if it was not for these students catching him in the middle of a hallway.

"Remember how we asked you about Ms. Y/L/N this morning?", one of the girls says, a smile on her face that he can't quite pinpoint.

"I do", Neville answers, not adding that their conversation had followed him throughout the whole day.

"Well, we just had Potions with her and we asked her about you, too", another student says, a sign of pride in her voice. "Do you want to know what she said?"

"Do I have a choice?", he says, feeling a bit cornered by the four girls in front of him. He was set on eating and then going to his quarters in the Faculty Tower to get some well-deserved sleep. Apparently that was not happening any time soon.

"She told us that you are her favourite colleague and that she also finds you kind of handsome, even though she told us not to tell you."

At that, Neville needs a few seconds and swallows hard. He does not know what he should be more uncomfortable with: the fact that these students are interfering in his private life or the thought that you actually may have said those words. What are the chances that you did?

"That is..", Neville starts, no idea how to best solve this situation. "Certainly very nice of her to say. Thank you for telling me, but I'm afraid we must head to the Great Hall now as dinner will be served soon."

He does not even wait for them to answer and walks straight past them, a blush on his cheeks as their giggling follows him to the end of the hallway. He sighs, their words echoing through his mind as he turns another corner and suddenly bumps into someone.

With wide eyes, he realizes that the person he just almost pushed to the ground is none other than you. His hands are still tightly gripping your upper arms, a measure he took to prevent you from falling, as he stares at you.

"What is wrong with you?! You almost gave me a heart attack", you lecture him, your frozen body slowly coming back to life. Only now do you notice that Neville is still staring at you as if you weren't from this world and the pressure he is exerting on your arms is somehow getting stronger.

"Neville? Hello? Anyone there?", you ask slowly, snapping a finger in front of his face. That seems to bring him out of his trance because he blinks several times in a row and clears his throat awkwardly, letting go of you but not before smoothing down the sleeves of your cloak.

"Sorry", he mumbles, looking to the ground and grabbing the strap of his bag as if it were an anchor to help him from drowning.

"Are you alright?", you ask, a bit worried now at his unusual behaviour. When you hear several voices coming from the hallway, he suddenly takes your hand in his gently and maneuvers you both into the nearest empty classroom, closing the door silently.

"What is-"

"I didn't want them to see us together", he tells you before you can ask and your heart drops.

"Oh."

The sound comes out a lot more sad than you wanted and Neville notices it as well, shooting his head up to look at you. It does not take him long to realize what he said is the reason for it.

"N-No, no. That- That was not what I meant", he immediately starts explaining. "I just- These girls kept asking me questions about you the whole day and since our.. the situation this morning I thought it would be best to not fuel the rumours even more. Like you said."

Switching between his eyes, you don't even know what to say to that. Because you indeed do not want them to spread anymore rumours about you. On the other hand, you can't deny the emotions you feel, especially right now, with one of his hands still holding yours.

"Did you tell them that I'm a wonderful colleague and that I'm attractive?", you hear yourself ask. You have no idea where that came from all of a sudden but somehow you do not even feel sorry for asking. The girls love gossiping and spreading rumours, but a tiny part in your heart still hopes that they did not just make all of it up.

You just need to know.

"What? No", Neville immediately responds with so much vehemence that you take a step back. Again, he realizes a bit too late what he said and you feel your heart crack. You should have been prepared for this, you asked for this, and yet it painfully stings.

"I mean", he tries again, getting ahold of both of your hands now, making you look up at him. "I didn't say those exact words. I- Well, I think they just saw the way I looked at you and probably realized something sooner than I did."

"Neville, you really don't need to justify yourself", you say, not wanting to hear any more to protect yourself but also not moving to leave.

"I'm not, Y/N. What I would have liked to tell them is that you are the most wonderful person I have ever met. You are smart, sweet, sometimes snarky, loyal, helpful and have those little quirks that drive me crazy. The way you are engrossed in your notes and keep pushing the strand of hair out of your face and chew on your lower lip. And I love the way you interact with the students. You can tell how much they adore you and that they see you as their role model", Neville tells you with so much adoration and determination that you think you must be dreaming.

"I love the daily teasing, the banter whenever you get upset about my plants but then help me with the potions I need anyway. And yes, I think you are absolutely beautiful", he continues, mending the crack in your heart. "But I couldn't possibly tell the students all that."

Lowering his head after exposing himself like that to you, showing vulnerability, you are at a loss for words. He said all the things you always wanted to hear from him but never even dreamt about them ever becoming true. Your silence makes him nervous, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other and breathes in deeply.

"They would certainly have loved that", you giggle then, placing your fingers under his chin to make him look up at you. When your eyes meet, he can see yours sparkling and shimmering like they never did before. "And I love you."

With that, you pull him in for a kiss. Neville is too perplexed for a few seconds to do anything, but then he relaxes into the kiss, his hand finding its way to the back of your head to pull you even closer. You relish in the feeling, of how your lips work against each other, of how your hands are pressed to his chest between your bodies.

You forget where you are and what could happen if someone came in any second, but you simply do not care. And Neville does not either as he softly pushes you against the desk in front of the classroom, smiling into the kiss as he says: "Let's spread more rumours then."

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