#mr. bug goes to down

[starleska]

the brilliant @yaminerua has cracked the case!!! i couldn't agree with them more: it looks like Mr. Ring-A-Ding's unusual, buglike appearance was partially inspired by Hoppity the Grasshopper from Mr. Bug Goes to Town, a 1941 Fleischer production 👀 fantastic find there Rua!! i'm excited to learn more specifics about the development of Mr. Ring-A-Ding, but it would work wonderfully if he's made up of a pastiche of Fleischer influences between the early 1930s and mid 1940s 💖

[boricuasirena25]

cute little painfully nerdy 2000s ellie williams x popular bimbo fem reader part 3

since yall hornballs wanted smut so badly 🙄

cw : smut, public sex in class, degradation, ellie’s horny fantasies, wet dreams, plot twist kinda

the bell rings. you don’t rush to your seat—you never do. you glide in late like always, cherry gum in your mouth, tight hot pink juicy couture velour zip up barley zipped up with your black lacy VS push up bra peeking through. a boy stares. you don’t care. you’re too busy reapplying your gloss with your middle finger.

ellie sees you before you see her, she recognizes your heavy, dreamy scent of the love spell body spray from 5 miles away.

she’s already at her desk, hood up, legs bouncing under the table like she’s got an energy drink in her bloodstream. which, honestly? she probably does. her fingers are smudged with pencil and her notebooks half open, little doodles of swords and boobs peeking through the lined paper. she’s not ready. for anything.

mr. brooks clears his throat.

“alright, students. group projects. DNA replication and genetic variation. pages 94 through 99. picked your partners for you.”

groans ripple across the room. you roll your eyes, zoning out as he goes on to list random pairs of students in the class… “david and rebecca, ashley and karen, adrian and braxton, becky and jared-“ then suddenly.

“y/n and… ellie.”

you look up from your manicured hands in your lap instantly, silence. you make a disgusted look. brows furrowed, lips pouted.

but ellie? she jerks in her seat like someone pulled a string in her back. her eyes snap up and lock on you, wide behind her crooked-ass glasses. her whole face goes red—forehead, ears, even her damn neck. she freezes. then immediately starts fumbling with her the spirals on her notebook, like she thinks if she looks busy enough, maybe you’ll ignore her.

you don’t.

you sigh heavily as you take your time walking over, swinging your hips just enough to make two boys whisper. you drop your bag next to her desk. she looks at it like it’s a bomb.

you sit down.

“so,” you say, voice flat, bored, already annoyed. “you gonna write the whole thing or just f*ck yourself to it?”

she chokes. like physically chokes, hand flying to her chest, eyes bugging out. she tries to answer, fails, tries again, and somehow makes it worse.

“i—i don’t—i wasn’t—f*ck mysel-?—no—what—”

you stare. blow a bubble. let it pop, then giggle in her face.

her face is ruined. her mouth opens and closes like a fish. she looks like she wants to die. and then crawl under the desk. and then die again.

you lean in, just a little, enough for your perfume to hit her nose.

“i still remember that sketchbook from last week by the way.”

ellie flinches.

“i wasn’t—you know.. it’s for anatomy,” she blurts, which makes no sense, and she knows it. “not like, your—i didn’t mean your anatomy, just—like—the concept of anatomy, which, like, technically—f*ck—”

you tilt your head.

ellie covers her face with her hands and groans, long and low, like she’s in pain.

“do you touch yourself to those with your hoodie on, or do you take it off to set the mood?”

“please,” she whispers. “please shut up.”

you giggle again, soft and wicked.

adrian—your adrian—is three rows in front of y’all, hearing the whole thing. you haven’t even acknowledged him since class started either.

ellie peeks through her fingers. she’s twitchy. sweaty. miserable. and when you pull your chair closer, she damn near leaps out of her skin.

“we’re gonna get an A,” you hum, dragging her open textbook toward you. “you’re gonna do all the work. and you’re gonna keep your nasty little sketchbook zipped up tight.”

she nods. small. frail.

“say ‘yes, ma’am.’”

“…yes, ma’am.”

you smile. pop another bubble.

this is gonna be fun.

ellie keeps her eyes locked on the textbook. she hasn’t spoken in five minutes. not since the “yes, ma’am.” her handwriting’s shaking. her cheeks are red. her hoodie sleeves are halfway over her fingers again, clenched tight like she’s praying.

you lean back in your seat, legs spread just a little wider, flipping your hair over your shoulder. her eyes flicker for a second—just a second—to the inside of your thigh under the desk.

you catch it.

“are you even paying attention?” you ask, fake sweet. “or are you too busy trying not to cum in your boxers?”

her pencil snaps in half.

“i’m—i’m paying attention,” she mumbles, head down, the tips of her ears red like she’s been slapped. “mitosis. cell cycle. S-phase. DNA replication. i—i know it.”

you hum. press your knee against hers under the desk. she jerks back like she’s been shocked. you look down at her shaky hand on the table. long, twitchy fingers. drum and guitar callused.

slowly, you reach out. grab her wrist. guide it down.

“wh—what are you—” she tries to pull away, but she’s weak. pathetic. you’re stronger. meaner. so much prettier. you press her hand against your bare thigh, just above the hem of your skirt. warm skin. smooth. soft.

she stops breathing.

“f*ck,” she whispers, wide-eyed, voice cracking. “you—you can’t—i’ll f*cking—”

you don’t let go.

“don’t be a p*ssy,” you murmur, eyes half-lidded. “it’s just a little skin, right? nothing you haven’t seen in your nasty little sketches.”

her fingers twitch.

you push her hand higher. just a little.

the edge of your thong peeks out. she squeezes her eyes shut, like she can block it out. but her fingers stay.

shaking. burning. gripping your thigh like it’s keeping her alive. ellie whimpers.

you smile, slow and wicked and keep her hand right where it is. she doesn’t move at first.

your fingers are still around her wrist, soft but firm, like a leash she doesn’t want to escape. her palm is pressed flat to your thigh, skin burning hot, nails barely grazing you. you’re looking ahead like nothing’s happening. like you’re so fucking bored. like her hand being between your legs is just part of your routine.

ellie’s brain? completely fried. ‘f*ck. f*ck. f*ck’ she thought.

she doesn’t know where to look. her eyes are flicking between the worksheet and your lip gloss and your thigh and the window and the corner of the floor like any of it will help her not lose it.

her face is flushed. her mouth’s dry. her hoodie’s too hot and her fingers are twitching because all she can think about is—

‘she’s soft. she’s so soft. i can’t—f*ck—i can’t.’

you’re right next to her. in the flesh. warm. sighing softly. looking down, pencil in hand while pretending to read the textbook like her hand isn’t right there.

and now?

her fingers start to move.

slow. slight. like she doesn’t even realize at first. like muscle memory. like her horniness has taken over completely.

she slides the tips up, just a little.

then down.

tiny little strokes. featherlight. testing you. seeing what she can get away with.

you shift in your seat.

press your legs together.

you don’t look at her. but you don’t stop her either.

so she keeps going.

and her heart is slamming in her chest.

she’s so wet in her boxers, her clit becoming a rapid beating second heartbeat to the point it’s actually painful. ellie thinks she might cum just from this.

her fingers dip slightly beneath the curve of your thigh. under the edge of your thong. just barely.

her breath stutters.

you’re wet. not soaked. not dripping. just warm and soft and slightly damp and f*ckf*ck—

she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning. her forehead hits the desk. just for a second. to ground herself.

you look at her finally. say nothing. just smirk. and she knows you know exactly what you’re doing.

she doesn’t say a word. she just keeps stroking.

slow, pathetic, desperate.

and no one can see a thing.

yet, her fingers go still when she feels it. the way your c*nt clenches as she pushes past the edge of your soaked thong.

how easy it is to slip in.

how tight you are. how f*cking warm you are.

like you’ve been waiting.

ellie lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding—shaky, low—and stares at your face like it’s the only thing that matters.

you’re still looking at your notes. like this is nothing.

like her fingers aren’t buried inside you right now, moving slow, dragging against that soft spot she’s imagined so many times her body could do it with her eyes closed.

and it kinda is.

her fingers start working in that perfect rhythm she’s practiced—on herself, in the dark, in the shower, during her breakdowns after seeing you in a mini skirt.

she curls them just right.

presses deep.

slides out slick and slow, then back in, faster.

you twitch.

your thighs shift.

but you don’t look at her.

and that’s what makes her lose it.

“f*ck,” she whispers. her head is down, lips barely moving. “you’re gonna make me cum in my f*ckin’ boxers, sh*t.”

you don’t flinch. you just turn the page in the textbook, lip caught between your teeth.

ellie’s eyes flicker to your mouth.

her fingers thrust deeper. faster. the sound is obscene but muffled by the low hum of the class, the hum of the lights, the buzz of old ac.

“this p*ssy’s so f*ckin’ warm,” she whispers, voice cracked. “you’re gonna—geez—you’re gonna ruin me.”

you pulse around her. her legs shake.

she’s gritting her teeth. trying not to grunt. trying not to moan.

“can’t believe i get to finger you in bio,” she breathes, nose brushing your shoulder. “you’re so mean to me—so f*ckin’ mean—and you’re so wet. you like this? letting the loser do this to you?”

your pencil scratches across the paper like nothing’s happening.

you’re breathing harder now. lips parted. eyes still down.

but your hips start moving—tiny little rocks forward against her fingers—and that’s when ellie knows you’re close.

she curves them deep, presses her palm against your clit, and starts pumping harder.

you clamp your thighs.

grip the edge of your worksheet.

swallow a whimper.

“good f*ckin’ girl,” she mutters, barely audible. “take it. just take it. i’ll make you cum so hard you won’t walk to 5th period.”

and you?

you turn your head just slightly.

lips brush her ear.

“then do it, perv.”

ellie’s gone. she’s imagined this so many times. in her sketchbook. in the shower. in her f*cking dreams.

you sitting on her lap, whispering in her ear, your lip gloss smearing on her neck, your tits bouncing while you ride her neon green strap—

you calling her a freak while grinding on her face—

you licking her fingers while sitting on her bed like a brat—

suddenly, she jerks awake with a sharp inhale, eyes wide, hoodie tangled around her arms, face flushed, sheets kicked off the bed.

her room’s still dark, lit only by the faint glow of her lava lamp and the blinking red light of her PS3. her sketchbook’s open next to her—flipped to a half-finished drawing of you sitting on her lap with your thong around one ankle.

her hand’s still in her boxers.

and yeah… they’re soaked.

disgusting. tragic. predictable.

ellie groans. drags her forearm over her face like it’ll wipe the sin away. mutters to herself.

“f*ck”

her voice cracks. she rolls onto her back, staring at the popcorn textured ceiling. her stomach flips. her hips twitch.

and suddenly she’s grinding her hand into her boxers again—again—because the image won’t leave her brain.

your face when you bit your lip.

your whisper in her ear.

your p*ssy squeezing her fingers like it needed her.

it’s too bad this is one of them. just another one of her pathetic dreams.

taglist : @deliciouslydeviantsatan, @valeisaslut, @dollinrehab, @l0veylace, @velvetinkbym, @liztreez, @elliesgffrfr, @sleepingwasp, @brooks-lin, @lovelessswan, @cherrylipsmakerss, @shookkatofthat, @mars4hellokitty, @jaydonisnothere, @ellieslittleslutt, @pussyeatercunt, @livvietalks, @angelsglitch, @robiceps, @lesb4ellie, @sparkle-jump-rope-queen, @sweet-anonyme, @mylettterstoyou, @pinkpigtailedjoy, @pink7princess, @nahcala, @mascspleasegetmepregnant, @sincerlykelsss

lmk if uu wanna be added. :)

[morganbritton132]

A shaky video goes up on Tiktok that levels out on Steve, head in hand. There’s a lot of voices before one rings out loudest and quiets the rest. The camera pushes forward, “Mr. Harrington, can you play it again.”

“One more time,” He sighs. “Then no more. We’ve got fractions to do.”

There’s a lot of agreeing and people get closer to hear as Steve presses to play the voice note he received ten minutes before.

You hear Eddie’s voice a bit too close to the phone, a bit out of breath: Hey, hypothetical, say you’re married and you told your husband to stop taking the cat outside because she kept killing bugs and bringing them inside, and um…um. He didn’t listen. How mad are you?

Steve presses another note and Eddie’s voice is more frantic and louder: I didn’t lose her! That message made it sound like I lost her. I didn’t! She , uh. She brought something into the house. Not dead! Improvement! But, it. It is a, uh. It’s a pigeon. Inside the house.

Another note, and Eddie’s like: I need you to calm your type-a brain down, okay? I’m handling it. I- why are you running??! This is your friend! You brought him here, Joan! Joan, you’re an apex predator, apex this bi-

Another note, Eddie says: I called Dustin. We’re staying in a hotel tonight. Cleaners will be here in the morning. I HANDLED IT. Please call me when you get this. Love youuuu, don’t be mad.

[lovebugism]

miss bug I have something to ask 🙋‍♀️

i don’t know if you do sickfics but! mayhaps steve and shy!reader where she doesn’t show up for school, steve goes to her house, and she’s utterly mortified because she feels like she’s nowhere near presentable

thank u for requesting!! — king steve pays his lab partner a visit when he hears you're sick, but definitely not because he has a crush on you (shy!reader, friends to lovers | 1.6k)

bug's two year celebration ♡

Steve waits for you that morning with half a bagel and his heart in his throat.

The desks in Ms. Click’s class grow slowly full with bustling bodies — some sluggish like zombies, others too chipper for an early morning. Steve cranes his head in search of your face in the crowd. Yours never shows, which is strange for Hawkins High’s future Valedictorian.

“Where is your partner, Mr. Harrington?” Ms. Click wonders beneath the grating morning bell. She ducks her head to peer across the classroom over her sparkly, cat-eye glasses.

Steve pauses, mid-bite of his sausage-egg-and-cheese. He shrugs wordlessly, with a wad of food jutting his cheek and crumbs sticking to his mouth.

The older woman sighs, too used to King Steve’s antics. She looks past him and asks, “What about you, Miss Buckley? Where’s Carol?”

“Probably under the bleachers with Tommy Hagan,” Robin mutters under her breath, though loud enough for everyone around her to hear, causing them to bite back their subsequent laughter. Steve, himself, nearly chokes on his bagel.

“Well, you’ll just have to pair up with Steven for the day,” Ms. Click tells her.

“Oh, god…” Robin groans in a whisper.

“Get to work.”

Steve spins his chair around to face the girl behind him, who he only really knew because of how highly you spoke of her. Despite your frequent praises, Robin doesn’t even look at him, nor does she bother to make mindless small talk. She just keeps her head down and scribbles notes on a worksheet. 

Steve, in spite of their differing statuses, struggles to find the courage to talk to her.

He slouches and tilts back his chair. “Hey, do you, um—”

“We don’t have to make conversation, alright?” Robin interjects before he can even start. She keeps her head bowed but glares daggers from beneath her lashes. “Let’s just get this hour over with so we never speak to each other again.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Well, I was— I was just gonna ask where your friend was. ‘Cause I don’t think she’s missed a day since, like, kindergarten.”

Robin’s freckled face flushes. She’d feel worse about being so short with him if he wasn’t such a douchebag. “Oh. Uh, she’s— She’s sick, I think.”

“Sick?”

His chest pinches with an immediate worry. Robin bites back a smirk at King Steve’s palpable concern for arguably the biggest nerd on this side of Hawkins. “Yeah,” she shrugs. “I figured she was just allergic to your hairspray.”

Steve laughs under his breath and turns away. Robin smiles only until he looks back at her, now with a brown paper bag in hand. It was meant to be for you — an even piece of his bagel, ‘cause he knows you don’t get breakfast yourself. He figures you’d rather not want it to go to waste.

“Want my other half?” he offers to the girl across from him, like some kinda olive branch.

Robin’s eyes dart from Steve to the paper sack and back again. It goes against every code in her personal handbook to take anything from Hawkins Royalty, but she shrugs in response anyway. “What the hell. Sure.”

—————

Finding your trailer isn’t hard. He visited there, once, for a project at the beginning of the school year. It’s the house directly across from the Freak’s. Eddie made it a point to play his guitar as loud as he possibly could, knowing The Hair was around to hear it. (Munson would never miss an opportunity to annoy King Steve, and honestly, you couldn’t blame him).

Steve decides to make his entrance through your bedroom window. Dead, unmanicured grass crunches under his sneakers as he rounds your trailer. He rises to the tips of his toes and knocks four times on the high-up window. The old glass feels strangely delicate under his fist.

He waits for an answer for several long moments. When he doesn’t get one, he lifts his hand to knock again. The window squeaks open before he can — and there he finds you, standing above him, holding a half-empty box of tissues in your hand like you plan to hit him with it.

“Whoa—” Steve flinches.

You look equally shocked to see him, fear swimming in your glassy eyes. “Oh, my god—”

“Sorry,” he grimaces with his palms splayed in surrender. “It’s just me.”

“I thought you were a burglar or something…”

“And what? You were gonna take me out with a box of tissues?” His laughter feels like warm honey compared to your splitting, icy migraine.

You take in a heaving breath and swallow hard through a stinging throat. “Sorry,” you sniffle. “Come— Come in.”

As Steve climbs through your window, trying hard not to get caught in the curtains, you become very hyperaware of your living space. It is your childhood bedroom, after all — every phase of your life is stored within these tiny four walls. Posters, trinkets, slightly dated decor. And on top of all that, you’ve been living like a total slob since you got sick over the weekend.

Your bed’s a mess, you’ve got bottled water and tissues piling in the bin, and you haven’t changed out of your pajamas in two days. It’s certainly no way to greet the king of Hawkins High, though he doesn’t quite seem to mind.

“You coulda just knocked on the door, you know?” you mumble, slightly nasally, as you swipe a balled-up tissue under your nose. “I would’ve let you in.”

Steve pants and stands to full height again, finally in your room with little to no struggle (though he’s pretty sure he’s stamped his footprint on your wall). 

“Well, what can I say? I like to make an entrance,” he jokes with a lopsided smile. The rosy expression fades when your glassy eyes glaze over with a faraway look. “…You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just…” you shake your head, which only makes the dizziness worse. “I’m just a little lightheaded. That’s all.”

Steve rushes to your swaying form without thinking. He grasps your arms in two wide, gentle hands. His honey eyes are wide and wild as they dart over your features, sufficiently bleary with whatever bug you’ve caught. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” you insist despite the obvious. “Just can’t break this stupid fever.”

“Here. Lay back down.”

He guides you the short distance to your bed, foreignly patient with your sluggish movements. He keeps a hold of you with one hand and reaches for the mussed blankets with the other, pulling them back to ease you beneath them.

“Sorry for bailing on you today,” you apologize in nearly inaudible slurs as the boy props you against the pillows. 

Steve shakes his head with a quiet smile. “You’re sick. It’s okay. Stop apologizing,” he insists and tucks the covers on top of you again. You can smell his aftershave when he leans over you, a striking minty scent that melts nicely with his deeper cologne.

“Sorry,” you repeat before you can help it.

Steve rises again and fights the urge to brush the hair sticking to your clammy cheek. “Have you had any medicine?”

“I had some… cough syrup earlier…” you slur, face half-buried in the pillows.

“What about food?” he asks with his hand on his cocked hip. “Had any of that?”

“‘M too sick for food.”

Steve laughs and fills the gloomy room with sunshine. “You have to eat, babe. So you can get your energy back. That’s, like, science or whatever—”

His eyes widen, only then realizing his use of the nickname. His heart drops to his ass. He hopes he said it so quickly that you missed it. You seem to have, as sick as you are, basically half-asleep before him.

You’d heard it, though. The word alone has your delicate heart beating with a newfound fervor. You can’t tell if it’s killing you or bringing you back to life.

Steve starts rambling before he realizes it. “I can whip you something up, if you want. I make a mean macaroni and cheese— In the microwave, obviously, ‘cause I’m less likely to burn it that way. Did you know that you can actually burn pasta in the microwave? Yeah, I had to learn that one the hard way—”

“Steve?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can you just sit with me?” you sniffle, eyes still shut. “Please?”

He nods rapidly until the words catch up to him. “Yeah. Yeah, of— Of course, yeah.”

The boy climbs into your bed with a lot less confidence than he’s used to. This is by no means the first time he’s been in another girl’s bed, but something about this one feels different. This time, he has to keep reminding himself to breathe. This time, his hands are all clammy and tingling with an anxiety he isn’t used to. This time, he feels so utterly unsure in his body that he doesn’t know how he became King Steve in the first place — let alone how he got here, next to you.

What’d an asshole like me do to deserve all this? his mind reels.

Your breath catches when the mattress dips under his weight. He sits over the covers, but still a lot closer than you thought he might, all things considered. You turn slowly onto your back to look at him without going dizzy again.

“You’re not scared you’ll get sick?” you croak, blinking up at him with sleep-swollen eyes.

Steve shrugs with his back propped against the headboard. “Not really. I mean, what’s the worst-case scenario— I get sick and have to be quarantined here with you? That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

His lips curl into a lopsided smile that makes your chest feel sparkly. You turn away and hide your own grin in the pillow. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington,” you quip, half-muffled in the cushion.

“Yeah, I know,” he hums, never once taking his eyes off you. 

He can’t wait to kiss you when you’re better.

[sunday-bug]

Time To Get Busy

Pairing: Husband!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: breeding kink, p in v unprotected sex, touch of somnophilia, praise kink, mirror sex, it's corn y'all

18+ Minors DNI (NSFW)

Synopsis: Bucky drops the kids off with their godparents so you can spent some quality time together in the sheets.

A/N: not beta read, but thank you to my Discord gals for encouragement 💗 my entry for @ramp-it-up 5k Challenge with the prompt “Look at me. I want to see how good I make you feel.” Some reader POV and some Bucky POV.

Two pairs of little feet pitter patter outside of your bedroom door and you hear giggles before the door knob slowly turns and opens. The twins rush in like an adorable tornado of blue eyes and wild hair.

“Mommy! Daddy!” They yell in unison, rushing to your bed and jumping up. “Wake up!” 

Bucky laughs next to you, reaching for your hand under the warm covers. 

“So much for sleeping in,” you joke to him with a groggy voice. “Good morning, bed bugs!” 

“Mama!” Jamie shouts, hopping on you. “Daddy!” Annie squeals, jumping on Bucky. He lets out a hmph as she lands, catching her in his arms. A tickle war ensues, and you let the twins believe they are the victors. You and Bucky are both sprawled out, covers kicked to the foot of the bed, in a fit of laughter. You meet his eyes and his gaze softens, followed by a sly smirk. He looks at the kids and sits up. 

“Guess what guys? Guess who you’re going to see today?!” He asks them, putting on a show of excitement and anticipation. You look at him curiously, not sure what he’s talking about. Today was just like any other Saturday - you’d sleep in if the twins allowed (they did not), make breakfast (waffles in the Mickey Mouse waffle iron), take a long walk to the park (and try to pry them off the slides when it was time to leave), come home for a family nap (bliss), and then make ice cream sundaes after dinner (extra rainbow sprinkles for Bucky, but he’d never tell a soul). It was the routine. You had it down pat.

Annie and James start jumping up and down on your bed, “Who?!” “Tell us!” 

“Uncle Sam and Aunt Darcy!” Bucky shouts, scooping them into his arms. They both squeal with delight. Any chance they got to spend time running around the Wilson place, they took it. 

“Buck? Since when?” You ask, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“Since last week. They want to babysit.” He says, running a hand through his mussed hair. The kids jump off the bed and run down the hallway yelling Sam and Darcy’s names the whole way. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to surprise you, love. I’m taking them over in an hour and picking them up after dinner.” He pushes your messy hair out of your face and kisses your forehead. “We need some time just the two of us, and I think Sam and Darcy want some practice.”

“Practice?” You ask with a gasp. He laughs and waves off your assumption.

“Not yet, but he told me they’re going to start trying.” He explains with a smile. You nod and silently thank the Gods. They’d make such fun parents. You turn to get out of bed before Bucky stops you, his hand on your arm. 

“You’re staying right here.”

“But I need to pack their bags. They’ll need their nap blankets and Annie will need her stuffed-” Bucky’s hand comes up to your mouth before you can finish.

“I packed everything last night after you fell asleep. It’s all ready to go. I got their blankets and Annie’s stuffed wolf. It’s all taken care of. Now, do as I say, Mrs. Barnes, and stay right here in this bed. I want you here when I get back.” He says the last part with a mischievous grin and a tingle goes down your spine as you sink back under the covers. 

“At least send them in to give me a hug and a kiss before you guys leave!” You beg as he gets out of bed to get them ready to go.

“You got it, mama,” he agrees with a wink.

You lie in bed and listen to the sounds of your little family in the other rooms - Jamie is stomping around pretending to be a dinosaur while he brushes his teeth, Annie is singing her favorite song from Moana while Bucky does her hair, and Bucky? You listen to him laughing and talking to your kids. He’s the best dad, just like you knew he’d be. And this surprise day with just the two of you is exactly what you need. You love being a mother, but you’d be lying if you said you never missed having time with just your husband. Life has been busy and a bit stressful lately, and you think Bucky could sense that. Plus, you’ve been wanting to talk to him about actively trying for another soon anyway. Today would be the perfect opportunity - a quiet chance for the two of you to talk with interruptions, as cute as those interruptions may be.

“Mama!” You hear them both yell as they run into your room again. 

“We’re leaving! Darcy is going to let us eat dessert before dinner!” Jamie exclaims with a cheesy grin. 

“JJ! You can’t tell Mama that!” Annie scoffs. You laugh and shake your head. 

“It’s okay. It’s a special day with Uncle Sam and Aunt Darcy. You can eat dessert whenever you want, as long as you mind your manners and listen to them. Got it?” You ruffle Jamie’s hair and boop Annie’s button nose. Bucky walks in at that moment, car keys in hand.

“You munchkins ready to roll?” He asks with a smile.

“Yes!” They shout.

“Give your mommy a hug and a kiss and we’ll hit the road,” he says, watching from the doorway. They do as their father tells them and you squeeze them extra tight, not worrying too much because you know they’ll be in good hands with their godparents.

“Wait by the door. I’ll be out in a second,” he announces to them, watching as they run back down the hallway. “And you,” he says, gaze darkening as his eyes sweep over you, “keep this bed warm for me. I mean it.” He kisses your forehead again before leaving with the twins.

You listen to the front door shut behind them and spread out in the bed, putting your face in Bucky’s pillow and inhaling softly. Home. You fall back asleep quickly, clutching his pillow to your chest, covers still kicked to the foot of the bed. 

—

I open the front door and hear my phone ping. It’s a photo from Sam - the twins smiling while holding Darcy’s pet rabbits. They were already having a blast. My body relaxes at the thought. I take off my shoes and jacket and sneak back into the bedroom. My wife’s asleep - her mess of curls cascading across the pillows, the bed covers bunched near the footboard, her pajama shorts hugging her hips perfectly, and her delicate arms wrapped around my pillow. She’s clutching it to her body and breathing steadily. I can’t help but to skate my eyes over her body. Mine.

I shed my t-shirt and jeans and carefully slip into bed beside her, mindful not to wake her. I pull the top sheet over our bodies, and wrap my arm around her middle, pulling her close. She murmurs something I can’t make out and presses into me. I close my eyes and nuzzle into the crook of her neck. No perfume, nothing fancy - just her. It’s the best smell. I need it bottled so I can bring it with me on missions. She keeps me going - her and our little ones. I never thought I’d have a family, let alone one this perfect. Lately, however, I’ve been wondering what she’d think about adding another little monster to our crew. It’s part of the reason I made sure we had a day to ourselves today - I want to talk to her about it and just be with my wife like old times. She pushes her backside into me again, this time a bit more deliberately, and mutters in her sleep. I hear her phone ping on the nightstand and reach for it, wanting to make sure it wasn’t Sam or Darcy needing something. I don’t recognize the app the notification is from, and try to lock her screen again, but my thumb brushes it and the notification opens fully: “Time To Get Busy: It’s Ovulation Day!” Oh? Oh. I click the phone off and set it facedown on the nightstand again, my heartbeat thumping a little faster now. Did she want to? We’d been so busy with life lately, we hadn’t talked about it properly. Obviously our “pull and pray” method has been working, but we needed to talk more.

She presses her ass fully into me now and I can finally make out what she says this time: “Breed me.” I groan internally at her unconscious words and feel myself get hard. Fuck.

I run my hand up her pajama shorts and palm her bare ass. She must be dreaming because she murmurs again, but I can’t understand what she says. So cute. Her thighs clench together suddenly. She’s not dreaming about puppies and rainbows - she’s having a sex dream. My hand glides under her shorts over her hip to rest on her lower abdomen. Her own hand comes down to rest over mine and she guides it between her legs. I glance up at her, but she’s still sleeping. Her eyelids flutter as I feel how wet she is. My hips rut into her and she moans in her goddamned sleep. “Buck.” That little sound breaks me and I insert a finger into her, curling it slightly. Her eyes open and meet mine. 

“Were you having a wet dream about me, baby girl?” I whisper in her ear, adding another finger at the same time. She bucks her hips into my hand and smiles.

“I guess it’s not just a dream now,” she sighs. “Were the twins okay when you left them?”

I kiss her neck, “They were so excited. They’re going to have fun.” 

“So are we apparently,” she grins, turning to face me. I remove my fingers and pull her into me face-to-face. 

“So… what were you dreaming about, gorgeous?” I kiss her nose and put my hand on her tummy under her (my) t-shirt.

Her cheeks turn pink and she buries her face in my chest, a giggle erupting from her body. “Umm…”

“You talk in your sleep, did you know that?” I tease, moving my hands up to palm her breasts.

“I do?!” She exclaims, eyes wide. “Oh God, what did I say?” 

I laugh and pull her into me even more so my chest is up against her still unfortunately clothed chest. “You said a few things, but I only made out my name and one other thing. It was quite naughty.” I tease her.

“Buck! Tell me!” She begs. I capture her lips with my own and kiss her.

“I could just show you instead,” I say as I roll onto her, pinning her to the bed beneath me.

—

You laugh and luxuriate in the simple, delicious feeling of his body weight above you. No place on earth has ever felt more safe. His blue eyes look into yours and you know you want to reenact your dream. “Bucky?” 

“Yes, my love?” He asks sweetly while rocking his hips into yours, creating the best kind of friction. 

“Let’s have another baby,” you whisper, biting your lip. He immediately smiles. “That’s what I was dreaming about.”

“I want another one, too,” he breathes out, pulling your t-shirt over your head and planting kisses down your sternum and breasts.

“But, first - tell me what I said in my sleep. Please.” You plead.

“You said ‘breed me’. And I intend to.” He says the last part with a rumble in his chest as he takes off your shorts and his boxers. Your cheeks heat at what your unconscious mind admitted. “Watch it take the first time again,” he says with a devilish grin, kissing your neck, leaving little bites and nips. “I can’t wait to see you like that again. Showing everyone that you’re mine.” You clench at his words alone, loving the thought of what was about to happen.

“Yeah? Like what?” You ask, daring him to say more.

“Pregnant with my baby. Well, babies last time,” he says with a chuckle, pressing his hips into yours even more. “You look so fucking pretty like that. And I love knowing it’s because of me.”

You blush at his words and brush your fingers down his biceps. “Well, what are you waiting for? Put a baby in me, Mr. Barnes.” Bucky groans at your comment and drags his tip through your slick. 

“Gonna make you a mommy again,” he whispers into your neck as he slowly pushes into you. “You’re so wet and ready for me. I wonder why,” he adds sarcastically. You look at him quizzically and he lets out a huff of a laugh. “Your phone pinged earlier so I checked it. You’re ovulating today, baby girl.”

“Oh, my period app. What-mmm, that feels good-what a good day to have to ourselves then, huh?”

“A perfect day, more like it,” he says, his hips now rocking into you, coating him in your arousal. You look down to watch him move in and out of you and catch his eye. 

“You love watching, don’t you?” He asks breathily. “Come on then,” he says, pulling out and maneuvering you to the foot of the bed and angling your bodies in front of the dressing mirror. You get on your hands and knees and he positions himself behind you, lining his cock up at your entrance. “Watch,” he demands, and you look at the reflection of the two of you in the mirror. Your hair is a mess and your cheeks are flushed. Bucky is looking down at you, his hair a bit disheveled. You watch as his hand raises right before it slaps your ass. “Good girl,” he breathes out as he slips into you in one motion. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, my girl. Like you were made for me.” Bucky picks up the pace and you watch him in the mirror as he works behind you. His right hand reaches around your waist to your clit and starts to rub gentle, deliberate circles. You let a moan loose at the contact and fuck back into him on instinct. “There ya go, baby. Just like that," he assures you.

“Ah, Bucky, that’s-that feels perfect. Don’t stop,” you whine. You reach behind you to hold his other hand and he takes it gratefully. The angle is delicious. “Fuck!” You cry out. 

“You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you, pretty baby?” He whines, snapping his hips into yours with precision. 

“Mmhmmm,” you moan. He lets go of your hand and brings it to your chin, directing your gaze to the mirror. “Look at me. I want to see how good I make you feel,” he instructs you. You meet his eyes through the mirror and do your best not to close your eyes or look away. The coil in your lower belly is about to erupt. He keeps rubbing your clit and slaps it once, twice, three times. “Fuck, Bucky-” you cry out, shuddering around him. He starts driving deeper into you, making you ride out your orgasm on him. 

“Just like that, mama. Keep going for me… you got it. Such a good girl.” He praises you, pushing the hair out of your face before pushing you down onto the bed, off of your hands and knees. “Legs together, baby,” he instructs you and you snap them together in compliance. He leans down to pepper kisses from the back of your neck all the way down your spine as he moves gently in and out of you. 

“I love you,” he whispers. “You’re my angel.”

“I love you so much,” you whine, your legs still shaking a bit from your undoing. He brushes his knuckles over the backs of your legs.

“You okay?” He asks, still pumping in and out gently. 

“I’m so good,” you say, looking up at him through the reflection. 

“Good,” he says, grabbing your hips in his hands and picking them up a bit while pressing your chest into the mattress. He presses into you completely and stays there for a moment, looking at you. “You’re so fucking pretty, my love,” he muses as he starts fucking you harder and faster, “but you're going to look even prettier full of my cum.”

You clench around him, loving when he’s a bit rough with you. “You like that?” He asks, spanking you. “You like to think about me blowing it all inside of you, huh? You’re my little cumslut, aren’t you?”

“Oh, fuck… yes!” You cry as his balls slap you with each thrust. His chest heaves and tendrils of his hair fall into his eyes. 

“I’m so close. You going to be a good wife and take it all?” He groans. “Be my good girl and don’t waste any, yeah?”

“I won’t waste any, sir, I promise.”

“Fuck yeah,” he says with a sigh, gripping your hips even tighter, almost painfully. “Here it comes.” He moans loudly as he spills deep inside of you, cock twitching for what seems like a full minute. A whimper escapes his lips and he finally pulls out. “If you’re not pregnant after that, I don’t know what to tell you,” he teases, turning you over and kissing you sweetly.

“You’re precious. I love you so fucking much,” he says with another kiss before rolling over and lying next to you.

“I love you, Buck,” you whisper, pushing his hair out of his face. “You’re my everything.”

tag list: @ruexj283 @sebastianstan0813

[todosdream]

I can fix that | ony

2.7k wrds. black fem reader. fluff.

warnings: cursing, men can be sucky, bluecollar!ony, flirting

pliers, pliers, pliers, you think to yourself as you search through the store.

about a week ago, the stream on your shower head started acting funny. at first you could just hit it a couple of times with the perfect amount of strength and it’d be knocked back into its senses. over time, the trick started to work less and less.

one particularly frustrating day led to a swing with too much umph in it, unfortunately knocking the thing out of commission. after a brief moment of frustrated silence, you decided to just replace it. you’ve already picked out the fancy massage shower head you want. now, here you are in good ‘ole home depot, searching for all the tools needed.

you’re roaming the aisles and trying to look like you have at least the slightest clue what you’re doing, even though your source of knowledge for the particular task at hand is just… well, the internet. it probably isn’t a good idea, you doing this yourself, but there’s no way you’re paying out the ass for something you can let youtube guide you through. hopefully you won’t make it worse. if all else fails, you can just continue to take baths for now.

“pliers!” you smile to yourself when you notice the rack. your smile slowly but surely dwindles when you realize just how many types there are up on the wall, the variation of colors and shapes immediately making you regret your decision. “what the fuck,” you mumble.

combination, flat nose, linesman… the list goes on and on and on.

before you can let out a sigh of frustration, you hear the agitating sound of someone clearing their throat behind you. “need help, little lady?” a voice calls, sounding almost slimey in its delivery.

you turn, top lip already itching to raise in irritation, but you see it’s one of the employees. the bright orange apron is an insult to your eyes, but it’s not as bad as the look on the guy’s face. “oh. um... yeah, if you don’t mind. I just need a pair of pliers to change out my shower head,” you say casually.

he hums with a raise of his eyebrow, eyes flicking up and down your form. it’s a judgemental gaze, very telling for how this conversation is about to go.

oh, brother.

“you sure you can do that all by yourself? pretty thing like you shouldn’t have to get your hands dirty,” he drawls, a smirk tugging at his lips. it almost makes you want to gag.

“I’m sure,” you say blandly. you definitely didn’t come here to talk to mr. greasy, despite his attempt. “I just need a basic pair of pliers. please and thanks.”

he doesn’t seem to like your tone, smirk falling as his ego is bruised. he must pull shit like this all the time. it’s a wonder his ass hasn’t been fired.

“well, I can’t just sell you anything basic, sweetie. that’d be doing you a disservice,” he tries again. he walks past you to the wall display, gesturing with his arms. you get a whiff of funk every time he moves. “these here are top notch. definitely what I’d recommend. there’s no way you’ll mess up.”

before you can give the nastiest eye roll manageable, a voice grumbles from behind you.

“aye, bruh, you can chill with all that sales shit.”

ony had approached behind you a few moments prior, several feet back as he waited for the two of you to move and stop blocking the wall.

his trip to the store was supposed to be simple. he just wanted to get a new pair of tongue and groove pliers, maybe some more bug spray for his home, and then get an icee from the gas station after working all day in the damn heat.

but here he is, sighing softly to himself as he listens to the worker attempt to ruin both of your days. he figured he’d put himself and you out of your misery.

when you turn to inspect the newcomer, who’s quite frankly saying what you were thinking, it’s like a scene from a movie. you can hear the imaginary music playing and everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion.

behind you is the finest man you’ve ever seen. dark skin, locs pulled up into a messy bun, bushy eyebrows pulled into a slight frown. he’s handsome, kind of like the men you’d expect to be in a monthly calendar of fine ass, hardworking beaus. light brown eyes, beard in slight need of a trim. his arms are crossed and big, covered in tattoos and small scars, and his form towers over yours. rugged but sexy.

“that’s what I’m supposed to do, sir,” the worker says with a tight smile. “is there anywhere I can point you to? I’m a bit busy helping this girl right now. as you can see.”

your gaze flickers back and forth, taking in both men’s demeanors. now, how did I end up in this? you ask yourself.

“nah. I’m good here,” ony responds with a shrug. his gaze is steady and doesn’t even shift your way. he stares down the employee with a calm look, seemingly unbothered. “this young lady don’t need you in her face if you gone be condescending. and she needs a basic tool for a basic job, not something she’ll have to spend big money on to use once.”

the worker’s eyes narrow, but before he can respond, someone speaks over the intercom.

“buford please report to aisle 13. buford please report to aisle 13.”

the worker, now outed as buford, huffs and crosses his arms. “alright, miss, I’ll be right back, okay? if this guy bothers you, just come grab me.” you give a tight lipped smile in response. “yeah, sure. thanks.”

with one last (supposedly threatening) look to ony, the employee walks off, grumbling softly under his breath. there’s a quiet tsk from the man still standing next to you, and he shakes his head as he watches the other retreat.

“sorry about that,” ony says with a nod in buford’s direction. his tone is softer now, but not overly so, and the strength of his gaze is now on you. it causes a warm feeling to bloom within you and a small smile to tug at your lips.

“yeah. being a woman means unfortunately being used to it,” you say with a soft laugh. “I’m not opposed to a knight in shining armor from time to time, though.” you tilt your head with the tease, a flirty sparkle in your eyes.

hm. ony doesn’t like that fact that you’re used to it, though he understands. but he does like the flirting tease from you.

his eyebrow raises as a smile crawls onto his face. such a pretty belle you are. and a fun personality is there too, he can tell. “I ain’t a knight, I’ll tell you that. but I can fix that shower head for you. if you want.”

“mmm, I don’t know,” you say, a playfully suspicious look on your face. “you’re still a man. don’t want just any stranger in my home.”

“I don’t have to be a stranger,” he smiles, obviously quite tickled. the action makes a deep dimple appear on one side, as if the man could get any finer. “but I do this shit forreal, I swear. here, let me getchu my card.”

he reaches into his wallet and pulls out a slightly crumpled business card, handing the item to you. you take the card and glance over it, noticing the lackluster design layout and plethora of services offered.

“interesting design. onyankpon, huh?”

“close. onyankopon, but I go by ony,” he says lowly, correcting your pronunciation. he tilts his head a bit, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “that face says you think it’s less than interesting. what’s ya name, pretty?”

“ᥫ᭡,” you answer with a smile. “the seems… slightly legit, I guess. I keep that thang on me though, so how about an exchange of services, mr. ony? I can design a new card for you. this is cute and all, but I can make it better.”

the idea is appealing to the man, but you’re where his full interest lies. there’s a teasing tug in the way you interact with him. he likes it. “a trade,” he says with a nod. “I can do that. I was fully ready to do it at no fee, though, darlin’.”

you shrug, face warming just a smidgen. “I don’t mind. keeps my skills sharp.” you pause, looking him up and down. “you are legit, right?” you question with a squint of your eyes.

ony chuckles then, rubbing at his jaw. “I’m forreal. got a truck with my name on it and everything.”

you hum and place your hands on your hips. “‘kay then. I don’t have to buy the pliers anymore, right? this place is a nightmare. spooky.”

ony shakes his head, dimple on full display with his handsome grin. you’re just too cute to him, all jokes and beauty. “nah. I do, though. ‘scuse me, ᥫ᭡.”

the sound of your name from his lips sounds unfairly addictive. you look up at him as he reaches over your shoulder, body close but not close enough. he keeps his eyes on yours as he grabs the pliers he needs, the scent of his cologne only adding to the experience.

gah damn.

the man gives you another charming smile as he steps back. “I have to go do another job in a few, but call that number when you wanna schedule somethin’. hope to see you later, pretty. don’t leave me hangin’, yeah?”

ᥫ᭡

“nice spot you got, darlin’,” ony murmurs as he walks through the doorway. it’s a cute sight, seeing his large frame treat your comfy home with so much respect.

he wipes his work boots on your doormat for a long moment, ensuring he won’t track anything around. he’s sure to adjust his work belt so he doesn’t budge anything. he’s looking around with rapt curiosity.

“thanks. took me a while to decorate how I liked, but it was worth it,” you smile. “c’mon, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

ony follows behind you, wondering if you wore the cute lounge outfit you have on for him. he intentionally keeps his thoughts respectful, but little does he know, you absolutely did.

he steps into the bathroom behind you, noticing the scent of jasmine and sandalwood from the wax warmer. your place is definitely a woman’s place in all the best ways, and he has no choice but to smile when he sees how cohesive the decor is.

“okay, darlin’. lemme take a look,” he mumbles. you step aside and wait with your fingers interlocked. after stepping into the shower and looking over the situation, he lets out a focused hum.

“yeah, definitely time for a new one. I’ll get this off real quick, you’ll be good as new in a few,” he nods. “where’s the replacement?”

“right here in the sink,” you point, happy to help. it feels like opening the door when someone carries a couch or something. like you’re not doing the hard work but still contributing.

ony lets out a warm chuckle, once again amused. you’re just happy to be here and he adores that. “good. you mind handing it to me when I ask?”

“nope!” you chime.

he shakes his head with a grin, dimple once again capturing your heart. he works efficiently for the next few moments, quickly dismantling, cleaning, and prepping. “alright, pretty,” he murmurs, holding out his hand.

you happily plop the replacement head into his hand and he takes it with a smile. “a lil helper, huh?” he asks as he easily completes his task. “alright. I just need to check for leaks and you’ll be good to go. easy peasy.”

“perfect, thanks so much, ony, I really appreciate it,” you smile. who knew a trip to home depot could kill two birds with one stone? free assistance with the shower and a fine ass man.

“no problem,” he chuckles. “just leave a good review on my site,” he winks.

“will do. five stars, I promise,” you grin. “I’m gonna run to the other room real fast.”

ony lets put a hum of acknowledgement as he checks over the shower head, vigilantly searching for leaks. you turn to exit, heading to the living room to grab the small cardboard box on your coffee table.

“what’s that?” you hear him ask from behind you. you turn and shake the box in your hands, enjoying the rattle. “your cards! you didn’t forget about our deal, did you?”

the man smiles as he crosses his arm, leaning on the doorframe. “I told you I was fine with doing it for free.”

“oh, well,” you roll your eyes. “c’mon, check em out. I only got a few in case you didn’t like ‘em.”

he hums as he approaches you, stopping just short of your frame to take the box from your hands. he lifts the lid and slides a couple out, eyebrows raising in surprise when he sees the new look.

“damn. this shit look professional as hell. I like the color too.”

“yeah?” you smile. “I made sure it looked as nice as possible, some color to liven it up a little. added your logo from your site. now you just need to keep them in something so they’re not rumpled when you hand them out.”

he chuckles in response and nods. “hell yeah. I like these much better, forreal. thanks, ᥫ᭡.”

“no problem,” you wave dismissively. it really hadn’t taken long at all. “service for service, right? I would’ve struggled with the shower, and no disrespect, that card was all over the place. misaligned, boring with no color. hope you didn’t pay the designer much.”

ony licks his lips and sheepishly rubs at his jaw. “mm. I was the designer, pretty.”

“oop-“ you immediately respond, laughing softly. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that.” you did, but now you felt bad, so you feel the need to spare his feelings as much as you can. he probably tried his hardest.

“s’no problem. you were right. this is definitely an upgrade,” he nods, waving the card in his hand. he can’t be mad if he just doesn’t have the skill, and he never got around to paying someone to do it. “makes me feel all official and shit with my name on my truck and now this. I’d say this was a good trade. except…”

“except?” you ask with a raise of your brow. you were pretty sure you did a damn good job, checking several times that the design was crisp and typo free.

“except,” he starts, “I traded for you to redesign my card. not print them.”

you blink at him. “I’m missing your point? I told you I only got a few.”

he shrugs, twinkle of mischief in his brown eyes. “still paid for them. that’s technically a service and a purchase. it ain’t fair, y’know?”

“I mean, it’s not really a big deal…” you trail off with a mumble.

“ᥫ᭡,” he says warmly, looking at you with a dimpled smile and a tilt of his head. “I’m tryna ask you on a date. just go with it.”

you blink again before you have to fight a smile. cute. really cute. he’s fun.

“hmmm,” you start, tapping your chin. you’re playing the part now, and you have to admit it’s very amusing. “you might be right about that. s’not a fair trade. we should discuss this further.”

“mhm,” he smirks. “how about… dinner? my treat.”

you bite you lip and tilt your head slightly. “dinner and a drink,” you rebutt.

his smirk widens, a twinkle in his eye. “dinner and drinks.”

“you’re a bad negotiator. you know that?” you question, squinting playfully.

“I don’t know, I feel like I should throw in some extra for emotional distress,” he shrugs. “an unfair trade can be a lot to deal with, you know.”

you laugh and shake your head in disbelief.

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal, mr. ony. dinner and drinks, I’m sold.”

a/n: just a little meetcute :) get the title reference?

this is inspired by one of my text aus lmao. writing a lil everyday is kinda gettin me out this funk ngl. feedback always welcome and wanted <3

[deja-you]

Starling: Act VI

bucky barnes x reader

masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

word count: 2.8k

summary: Fake relationship. Real feelings. One bed. All the tropes.

The hotel is all marble floors, golding lighting, and professional employees who don’t blink at fake names and beautiful couples. 

Bucky’s got one hand on the strap of a leather duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The other, gloved, is wrapped around your waist. His hand placement is intimate but not inappropriate. 

“Checking in for Mr. and Mrs. Alpine,” Bucky tells the concierge. 

You arch an eyebrow but wait to say anything. The concierge looks up your reservation, hands you over key cards, and tells you both to enjoy your stay. 

You loop your arm into Bucky’s as he leads you over to the elevators. 

“Really,” you say dryly, “you named us after the cat?” 

He doesn’t even look up. 

“She deserves better than shared custody.”

A smile pulls at your lips. “Mm, I’m sure she’s tired of being a child of divorce.” 

Bucky–Mr. Alpine–shrugs. 

“This is a healing moment for her.”

This elicits a soft laugh from you. You lean into his shoulder and lower your voice. 

“Smile, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want them thinking we’re in this for the free minibar.” 

“I’m smiling on the inside.”

“Great. Now try that on the outside too.”

He attempts a sharp, forced smile. It’s horrifying.

You snort. 

“Okay, I take it back. Never do that again.”

The elevator rise up is short and you make your way to the hotel room. You enter the room. Clean. Elegant. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A balcony. One bed. 

You both notice it at the same time.

“Guess we’re really selling this marriage thing,” you say, tossing your bag onto the bed. “I’m going to change. 

You slip into the bathroom with your change of clothes while Bucky assembles tiny ear-comms, scans for bugs with a handheld reader. The hotel room is clean, but he checks twice. 

A few moments later you step out of the bathroom in dusk spun into silk–a dusty blue gown that looks almost like glass when it catches the light. Sheer sleeves float off your shoulders, barely tethered to the sweetheart neckline. 

“So… how do I look?” 

He turns. Freezes a beat too long. His eyes sweep over you once. Slowly.

“Be honest. Too much for fake-wife espionage?” You ask. 

Bucky forces himself to look away. “Nah. You’ll blend right in with all the other supermodels taking down trafficking rings.” 

He turns to grab his suit hanging in the closet and pauses in the bathroom doorway. He turns to face you, a small, boyish smile on his lips.

“Remind me to frisk you before we leave.”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Buy me dinner first.” 

“Let’s just get through this mission, Birdie.” 

He reemerges shortly after threading cufflinks in his shirt. A crisp, black tie. Gloves on both hands.

“You ever take those off?” You ask curiously. 

Bucky doesn’t look up. There’s a beat. 

“Not when I’m someone else.”

Your tone is softer, slightly teasing. “So if this were real, you’d take them off?” 

He takes a step toward you, one of his gloved hands tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. When Bucky speaks his voice is low. 

“If this were real,” he says, eyes flickering over your dress once more, “they wouldn’t be the only things I’d be taking off.”

At his words you’re frozen and you barely register the hand that is still at your cheek gently tucking a comm into your ear. It crackles to life and you don’t get the opportunity to respond. 

“You two lovebirds ready?” 

You hear Sam’s voice in your ear. Bucky grumbles a confirmation. 

“One of the donors from Virell’s network is at the welcome reception tonight,” Sam continues, “You’re lifting a card key from his wife’s bag. No screw-ups.”

“We never screw up,” you reply sweetly, “just…improvise. With flair.” 

You hear Sam scoff.

“I’m logging that for when this goes sideways.”

You enter the elevator with Bucky and lean against him just slightly. Your arm brushes his chest. You feel him freeze behind you. 

“Always this stiff on vacation, honey?” You ask innocently. 

“I’d be less stiff if you stopped poking me with that knife in your garter, doll.” 

He exaggerates the pet name, rolling his eyes performatively. You shift closer. Real close now. 

“S’that what you would call me? If you were deeply, tragically in love with me?”

You keep pushing. 

“Doll? Not love? Not darling?” 

His eyes flick to yours. Unblinking. 

“I’d just call you Birdie.” 

You go still. He’s already looking away. The elevator doors roll open. Showtime. 

-

The ballroom has high ceilings and gilded accents. Waiters mill about the room in white jackets, crystal chandeliers brighten the space, a string quartet is playing a familiar Vivaldi piece. You and Bucky are arm in arm. 

“Remember,” you whisper to him, “you’re crazy about me.”

“Of course I am.” 

You bump his arm with your shoulder, grinning. “You didn’t even hesitate.” 

The two of you drift around the perimeter of the party, champagne glasses in hand. You find a reason to fix his tie. He’s watching you instead of the room, gently adjusting a strand of your hair and murmuring something about “obscuring your comms.” 

Your eyes scan the room until they zero in on your target. A woman in her mid-50s, silver dress, hair spun like glass. She’s on the arm of a large, red-faced man. You nudge Bucky gently.

“Silver clutch. Five o’clock.” 

In sync, you both shift your direction with ease. Like a dance you’ve practiced.

Bucky intercepts a waiter and, with effortless coordination, “accidentally” lets a champagne flute crash dramatically to the marble floor. Crystal shatters. Heads turn. 

Your target gasps. Her husband mutters something about “hiring better staff.”

Everyone is distracted and you move like a ghost. Your fingers catch the strap of her purse just right. Lift. Twist. Slip. The keycard is yours. You slide away toward a side curtain. Bucky joins you soon after. 

“You got it?”

“Of course I got it. You planning on thanking me or just brooding attractively for the rest of the night?” 

“Depends. How do you want me to thank you?”

Once more this evening, you’re stunned into silence. You blink. He looks at you, expression unreadable but certainly not innocent. You don’t reply, and Bucky takes your hand and turns down a hallway and beckons you to follow him. 

You both slip into a service elevator. You don’t let go of his hand. Neither does he. 

Neither of you mention it. 

The elevator whirs to life. 

The doors open to your floor. The mission isn’t over. You still have the keycard. You still have a job to do. But something changed between the two of you this evening. Or maybe it started changing long before that. 

For now, you don’t talk about it. You just keep walking down the hallway together. Slowly. Quietly. Fingers still intertwined. 

-

You’re barefoot on the balcony, leaning against the stone railing. Bucky’s inside going over details of the mission on the phone with Sam. 

The dusty blue dress still clings to your body, the fabric getting swept up in the cool evening air. The city buzzes. Glass towers reflect the horizon. You focus on your breathing. 

You’re not sure if you’re calming down or winding up. Tomorrow is your chance to take down Virell and his operation once and for all. But something about the quiet unnerves you. 

The weight of the dress. The memory of Virell’s voice. The feel of Bucky’s fingers laced with yours. The feel of cool metal against your skin from nights before. 

The door creaks behind you. 

Bucky steps onto the balcony. He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, slow and sure. His chest presses into your back so close you can count his heartbeats. 

He lowers his head. A soft kiss to the exposed skin on your shoulder. Another to your neck. His voice low as his lips brush against your ear.

“They’re watching the hotel,” he says coolly. 

Your body melts into his on instinct, hands finding his. 

Your eyes flick across the street. Three figures. All in black suits. Tinted windows. Virell’s men, watching the lobby. 

Bucky brushes his lips against your temple.

“Come to bed with me, doll,” he murmurs softly. 

You recognize the callback to the elevator. Fake couple. Real danger. 

You turn in his arms to face him, playing along. One hand trails over his chest, the other behind his neck. 

“If you wanted me, you should’ve just said,” you say gently.

You kiss the sharp edge of his jaw, just enough to blur the lines between the mission and reality. 

His breath hitches–barely. A low hum escapes his chest. He kisses your cheek. Then your neck. Collarbone. Shoulder. Everywhere but your mouth, although he gets awfully close. 

His hands curl under your thighs and lift you without much effort. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you inside. 

Bucky carries you to the bed and lays you down gently like you’re something fragile. The bed dips beneath your weight. The fabric of your dress pools around you like a lake. 

He leans down and places one more kiss to your jaw, his stubble brushes against your skin. 

Then he’s gone, moving toward the windows. He draws the curtains shut slowly. Deliberately. He doesn’t look at you. Not once. 

“If I didn’t know any better, Barnes,” you say coyly, “I’d say you enjoyed that.”

Bucky doesn’t reply. Jaw tight. He doesn’t meet your eyes. Instead, he walks stiffly to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You hear the shower start. Steam curls out from the edge of the door. 

You exhale and touch the space on your jaw where he kissed you. You lay back fully on the bed and stare at the ceiling. It’s getting harder to separate what’s pretend and what’s real. 

-

Later, the bathroom door opens with a soft click. 

Steam spills out behind him, curling toward the ceiling like smoke. Bucky steps out shirtless in low light that catches the water beads across his shoulders. A subtle glint where metal meets skin at his left arm. Sweatpants. That ride just a little too low on his hips. He’s still drying his hair roughly with the towel before hanging it on the hook on the door. 

He glances toward the bed. 

You’re lying there, half tangled in the sheets, facing the empty space beside you like you’re daring it to stay empty. 

You blink once, slowly. Your brain short-circuits halfway through forming a thought and reroutes to something safe, something boring. 

He doesn’t notice your stare. Or maybe he does and is pretending not to. Which might be worse.

You don’t say anything. You watch him from the corner of your eye. Your breath is steady. Your heart rate is not. 

He crosses the room slowly. Avoids your gaze. There’s only one bed. It’s not that big. 

You scoot slightly to one side, giving him more space. 

“I won’t bite,” you murmur. 

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“I’d let you.” 

It’s not fair, the way your whole body flushes.

You turn slightly toward him, trying to play it off like it didn’t affect you. Trying to be normal. Chill. Capable of human speech. 

He doesn’t meet your gaze, just climbs into bed like he didn’t just set your skin ablaze.

The mattress shifts under his weight. The space between you narrows. You lie back on your pillow, close enough to feel his breath, not close enough to calm your heartbeat. 

And God help you, he smells good. He smells like clean soap and warm skin. Cool metal and rain that hasn’t touched down yet. 

You shift. So does he. Your knees brush. Neither of you pulls away. 

“You okay?” He asks quietly.

You pause. Then nod. He probably can’t see it in the dark. 

“You?” You ask, just as quietly.

“No.” 

You both fall quiet again. The truth hangs heavy between you.

He lets out a breath. You think maybe this will be it and he’ll head to bed without another word. You pull some courage out from somewhere deep in your stomach. 

Softly:

“You ever think about what it’d be like?”

He blinks. 

“What what’d be like?”

You smile faintly.

“If this was real.” 

His breath catches. 

The silence feels deafening. Charged. 

Your heart beats like a caged bird against your ribcage. You feel something shift between the two of you. You think you’ve made a huge mistake, just ruined something good, and you open your mouth to say as much. 

“I–I just meant–” 

“All the time.” 

His voice is even. You can hear the truth on his lips. You’re both inches away from something that will break everything or fix everything. Or both. 

Neither of you speak again, silently agreeing not to speak about this further. 

At least for now. 

Under the sheets, his fingers brush lightly against yours.

-

You jolt awake well past midnight. A sharp, soft gasp. 

Your chest is heaving, pulse thudding in your ears.

The sheets are tangled around your legs, damp with sweat. One hand clenched tight against your ribs like you can hold in the fear. 

Bucky’s awake in seconds, his body rigid scanning the room for a threat. It softens once he realizes it’s still only the two of you.

He turns toward you carefully, not touching you yet. He watches carefully, doing his best not to crowd you. His voice is low and gentle.

“Hey. You’re okay. It’s just me. Just a dream.” 

You clench your eyes tightly closed, hand shaking slightly as you lift it to wipe your face of a tear you don’t completely notice is there.  

“Didn’t feel like one,” you mutter hoarsely. 

Bucky sits up slightly, propping himself on an elbow. He doesn’t ask you what it was about. He knows. 

He slowly extends his hand but pauses. His vibranium hand is closest to yours. He moves to pull it back but you grip it in your hand, pulling him closer. You don’t move to pull away and he gently threads his fingers through your hand, his thumb rubbing gently circles into your skin. It’s cool and grounding. 

“Breath with me, okay? In…out…” He tells you. 

You follow slowly at first. Then steadier. You match his rhythm. 

You’re aware of the cool metal against your skin. It’s not scary. It’s safe. Real. It’s hurt people before, but never you. It only provides comfort. 

Eventually your eyes begin to flutter shut again. Exhaustion ebbing in gentle and slow. Your voice is drowsy when you speak again. 

“Thanks.” Almost inaudible.

“Not going anywhere,” he responds. 

-

You wake first.

Still on your side, curled against Bucky. His arm is slung loosely around your waist, the other tucked under the pillow. 

His breathing is deep and even. He’s fully asleep. Maybe the first real rest he’s had in a while, too.

You shift carefully, trying not to wake him, but:

“You always this wiggly in the morning?” His voice is gruff, still laced with sleep.

“Only when I wake up with someone’s arm wrapped around me like a weighted blanket.”

He groans and stretches, keeping one arm looped lazily around your waist. 

You can’t remember the last time you’ve woken up this peacefully. 

Then you whisper into the quiet morning: 

“We forgot to feed Alpine.”

Bucky’s eyes remain shut. “Soraya’s got her.” 

A pause. 

“I miss her.”

“She’s got a better bed than we do.”

“She deserves it.” 

His eyes finally open and you share a look. It lingers. 

You stretch your arms above your head and the blanket slips slightly. Enough to catch his attention. He looks, then immediately looks away. You caught it. 

“Are you checking me out, Sergeant?” You ask mischievously.

“Just checking for weapons,” he deflects.

“Smooth recovery.” 

You finally roll out of bed with a groan and start rummaging through your bag for clothes. 

Shortly after there’s a knock at the door. You glance at Bucky. He frowns and moves quickly, grabbing a gun from his bedside table. 

“Subtle,” you say.

“Habit,” he replies. 

He checks the peephole and sighs. 

“Sam.”

Bucky opens the door and Sam and Torres enter, Sam’s got two coffees and a folder tucked under his arm. He hands one to Bucky. Torres has a grin and a latte for you. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Torres says to you. “Hope Barnes didn’t hog all the blankets.” 

“She was warm enough,” Bucky says, unamused. 

He gives Torres a look that says try that again and I’ll put you through a window.

Sam ignores both of them. “You two look cozy. Bed bugs treating you well?”

“They unionized,” you say, deadpan. “We let them have the minibar.”

“That’s generous,” Sam replies. “I’ll be sure to put that in the mission report.” 

Sam sets the folder down on the desk and opens it. A full file of updated intel. Maps, guest lists, surveillance stills.” 

“Virell’s confirmed. He’ll be at the gala tonight,” he informs you. 

You and Bucky exchange a look, the calm of the morning dissolves piece by piece. The weight of what comes next settles in. 

Sam begins to brief the two of you. Torres hands you your latte and backs away. Smart man. You take a long sip. 

Somehow Bucky has made his way to your side, your shoulders brushing slightly.

 “We’re gonna burn it all down, right?” You murmur to him.

Bucky’s voice comes out quiet and certain.

“Every last piece.”

[dioslesbianwife]

Can I please request the Jojo's with the most wholesome cinnamon roll partner the type of person who cried because she stepped on a bug and now the bug family must miss them.

Their partner making the cutest lunches ever with notes saying how much she loves them 💖

sure this is so cute, i hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting :33

Jonathan Joestar

Jonathan is already the human embodiment of a golden retriever boyfriend, so when he meets someone even softer than him? He’s absolutely smitten.

When you cry because you accidentally stepped on a bug and whisper, “What if he had a little beetle wife and three beetle children…” Jonathan kneels down beside you and holds your hands so gently:

“Let’s say a prayer for him, my dear. May his beetle family find peace.”

He's genuinely touched by your compassion. Your gentleness gives him strength, and he tries to match your level of empathy in everything he does.

The first time you pack his lunch, he’s shocked by how beautiful it is. You cut the fruit into little hearts and arranged tiny sandwiches shaped like flowers. And then he finds the note.

“To my brave and handsome gentleman ♡ ♡ ♡ I’m so proud of you!! Eat lots and don’t forget you’re loved ♡  –Y/N”

He tears up. In front of everyone.

Joseph Joestar 

Joseph acts like a goof, but when he sees how sincere and tender you are, it absolutely melts him.

He teases you when you cry over the squished ant (“Was his name Tony?! Did you kill Tony the ant?!”), but when he sees how genuinely sad you are, he immediately goes full boyfriend mode. “Hey, hey, c’mere- how about we save a worm from the sidewalk next time? Bug karma, right?”

When you start packing his lunches? He brags to EVERYONE.

“Look at this adorable rice ball!! Shaped like me!! She made it with love, Caesar, try to compete with that.”

He reads the notes out loud with a sappy voice and kisses the paper like a drama king.

“To my one and only, the most heroic dork in the world- ♡  GOD she loves me so much- wait, what’s this? A stick figure of me punching a vampire? I’M FRAMING THIS.”

Jotaro Kujo

At first, your overflowing affection and softness confuse him.

You wept for a full 10 minutes because he killed a spider that “wasn’t hurting anyone!!!” and now you’re pacing the kitchen whispering, “What if he was bringing food home to his babies-”

Jotaro: “…You want me to go dig a grave for the spider?”

You: “... Could you?”

He does it.

He acts annoyed by the cutely packed lunches, but he never misses a single one. They always disappear. Every single time.

The first time he finds a note that says, “Don’t forget you’re amazing, Jotaro, Star Platinum isn’t the only one who’s got your back!” he hides it in his wallet and reads it on lonely nights.

Jotaro isn’t good with words, so when you cry over injured pigeons or send him off with “have a heroic day, my angel!” he just blushes and grunts,

“…Yare yare… you're too good for this world.”

Josuke Higashikata

The minute he realizes you have that kind of softness? He vows to protect you with his life.

Josuke is good at matching your emotions too, so when you cry over accidentally stepping on a caterpillar, he’s right there with tissues like,

“He probably had a name… like, uhh… Mr. Squiggles or something. It’s okay, babe. We’ll plant flowers in his memory.”

When you give him a lunch box shaped like a cat’s face and inside is a smiley-face made out of rice and seaweed?? He SCREAMS.

He takes selfies with his lunch every day and sends them to you with captions like:

“Best. Girlfriend. Ever. Look at this masterpiece!!!”

He keeps every love note, even the silly ones like “you’re the king of my heart (and my favorite pompadour ♡)”

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno is so used to cruelty and cold ambition, he doesn’t know what to do when he meets someone genuinely sweet.

You once cried because a bee drowned in your tea. Giorno silently used Gold Experience to make a new one, then handed it back to you like nothing happened.

You whispered, “You’re my hero,” and he literally looked like you just stabbed him with love.

He sees your kindness as revolutionary. He’s so moved that you choose to care so deeply about the smallest lives.

Your bento boxes are art. You include color themes, edible flowers, and once even made a tiny pastry version of his ladybug brooch.

Giorno is silent when he reads your love notes… then folds them carefully and tucks them into a hidden drawer.

They remind him of the world he wants to create: gentle, safe, and full of warmth.

Jolyne Cujoh

Jolyne pretends your wholesome vibes are way too much for her, but secretly? She’s obsessed.

“You’re crying over a bug again? Ugh… c’mere you soft weirdo, let me hold you.”

(She’s rubbing your back while you sob about how “he probably had tiny dreams and little bug hopes-”)

When you start packing her lunches- either from outside the prison or getting to the lunch line early to make the gross cafeteria food at least presentable- She’s shook.

You make every meal look so cute along with a note that says:

“You’re the coolest girl in the world and I love you more than butterflies love sunshine and nectar ♡”

She straight-up flexes that lunch in the prison yard.

“Yeah, I’ve got someone who actually loves me. What about it?”

She’ll act like she doesn’t care, but she reads those notes before bed every single night.

Johnny Joestar

Johnny has a lot of pain in his heart, and when you show him so much softness, he doesn’t know how to receive it at first.

He asks, confused: “Why… do you care so much about everything?”

When you gently explain that the world has enough cruelty, and you want to be something kinder in it, he stares at you in awe.

One day you’re sobbing because you accidentally kicked over an anthill and you’re whispering, “I’ve destroyed their kingdom… the queen is probably weeping,”

And Johnny just strokes your hair and goes, “Damn… I love you.”

You pack him the cutest lunches full of squishy fruit gummies, sandwiches shaped like horses, and smiley cheese cubes.

He reads your notes with trembling fingers and starts believing- really believing- that he deserves love after all.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

Josuke is extremely confused at first. You’re the first person to be so affectionate and pure.

The first time you cry because you stepped on a snail, he thinks he did something wrong. But you just whisper, “Snail heaven better be nice…” and he realizes you’re just like this.

He gets really protective of you. He doesn’t want the world to crush your spirit.

When you give him a lunch with strawberries cut like hearts and a note that says, “No matter what happens, I’m proud of you ♡”-he hides behind a tree to cry.

He keeps the notes in a shoebox under his bed and reads them when he’s anxious. They mean more to him than you’ll ever know.

[bettystonewell]

IF YOU LEAVE

Chapter 2: Left of Center

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester x Reader

In the spring of 1988, Dean meets the girl of his dreams. He just doesn't know it yet. 3.5k words

Tags: Dean as a teenager (he’s a bit of a dirtbag), Bobby trying to parent, language, flirting, 80s & 90s pop culture references

Mood-board by @chevroletdean for #chevroletdean’s 500 😘

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

March, 1997

Being back at Bobby’s is exactly as Dean remembers it. Either the Sioux Falls house is stuck in some time loop or the objects and dust littered throughout the rooms are stuck with glue or something else. Anything’s plausible.

Even the liquor bottles and trash don’t appear to have moved over the last nine years, though he knows that’s not true. He was here two weeks ago when John arranged all this. He saw both men drink from the bottle of Jack still on the kitchen table as they discussed his life and future.

The whole situation bites. Sucks. He should be out there helping find whatever killed his mom, but they say they know better. That he needs an education. And if he doesn’t play house with Sam and Bobby? Then he loses the car, and he’s not losing the car.

It’s extortion. The threat, insulting. Nobody puts Baby in a crusher. 

Besides, John already handed over the keys on his birthday. She’s been in his name ever since. That’s two whole months, give or take, and there’s just gotta be some hoodoo superstition against giving someone something, then taking it back, right?

He pulls her into the carpark, furthest as he can away from all the Civics and Bugs taking up the asphalt. Shifts her into P. Cuts the engine, and that’s when he first hears the trills, grunts and hoots from his soon-to-be peers. 

Just great. This place is a zoo. No wait, zoo animals are better behaved. Hell, he’d prefer a haunted, crazy-house 

There’s the jocks with their green and gold sports-team jackets. The cheerleaders, matching them, but with hot, perky tits, and gloss, not so bad. The dweebs, Sammy’s crowd, and the loner kids paving their own way at the back of the pack, heads down in books and Game Boys. They make the stoners look alive, and, no; you know what, they might actually be alright. He’d rather be playing a bit of Zelda right about now, too. 

Still, he can’t. John threw the last ‘64 he rented in the trash. Luckily, they skipped that town soon after and he didn’t have to pay for the late fees. Like he would’ve. 

With a heavy sigh, his fingers grip the lip of his backpack, dragging it out of the car with him, flinging the weight of his text-books over his shoulder, pulling the muscle.

“Dude, that your ride?” someone asks, but he ignores them, and elbows tucked in at his side, pushes through the horde or hormones and sweat to the office, well away from whoever that was.

It’s best to just get this over with.

“Name?” the admin assistant, Mrs Heady, asks down her rectangle glasses. 

Her name tag says her first name’s Beverly, but they just met and it’s too soon for a first-name basis, and a grin tugs at Dean’s mouth. “Whatever you want it to be, sweetheart,” he says.

He can’t help himself. Not when a group of pretty cheerleaders stand right behind him, giggling and shaking their pom-poms. It’s a crime they’re allowed to wear such short skirts to school, but at least them being up close makes his day somewhat better. 

Luckily, this time, he’s learned something from John. How to conceal his…gun, because the girls giggle louder and it goes straight there.

He turns around and winks at the blonde closest to him. 

She blushes. Turns in turn to her friends and shakes with laughter. Lips glossy and pursed and eyes fixed on him as she whispers something to the girl with the ringlets. He wags his brows at her.

“Hi,” he mouths, but the third girl pushes them to the corner next to some trophies covered in dust, and—

“Son. I need your name.” Mrs Heady snaps him out of his trance with a poke from something he only feels on instinct from his jacket, shifting ‘round his ribs. 

His reflexes are too sharp, though, and now more eyes are on him and the way he holds the ruler she had hidden behind her desk in his hands. Vice-like grip, looking like a prayer over the self defence it’s meant to be.

“Winchester,” he gives, and lets go of the damned thing to hold his arms by his sides. He shrinks into his jacket. Shoulders droop, chin dips. “Dean.” He clears his throat. 

More giggles in the background retrieve his smirk. 

“Dean,” she says, then repeats, again, and again as she flicks through her files only to find his name on top in the end, anyway. “Here we are. Mrs Truman’s homeroom. B - twelve. You’ve got music up first.”

She hands him a timetable. He glances over it. Math, biology, English. Just great. Two months of this. 

He scrunches the paper and shoves it into his backpack so he can round up the ladies. “So,” he takes a couple of steps closer and loops his arm over the girl with the ringlets’ shoulders. “Care to show a guy around the school?”

Dean’s cheek still rings where cheerleader two slapped him. He nurses it in his left hand as he opens the door with his right, stepping into his homeroom with a little more apprehension than he cares to admit. 

It’s musky here. As dusty as the trophies in the office, only full of more kids, all staring at him as he walks over to the teacher, also looking him up and down. 

Okay, it’s not so different. He definitely shrinks a few more inches, and gives himself a once over, checking he’s still wearing his clothes. 

He is. So is the same blonde cheerleader sitting in the front row. Her smile, much sweeter than it was before. Her lashes batting against freckle dusted cheeks as quick as she had to have been to beat him here.

“You must be Winchester,” Mrs Truman says, and Dean brings his attention back to her with a click of his jaw. 

“Yeah.” 

“Transferred from Colorado?”

“That’s what it says.” He wrote it yesterday morning after a sharp smack from Bobby’s hand to his shoulder.  

He knows he deserved it. Sammy was only asking about John, who pissed off the second he dropped them off, leaving him to deal with the paperwork. Both of theirs.

Just as Mrs Heady had done, Truman sees him through her glasses, only she’s looking further up on account of the height difference, even without a desk. Her greying curls shake as she points to the back of the class. “Take your seat Dean.”

He winks at blondie and proceeds down the canyon of desks and the backpacks at their owners’ feet to the sole remaining seat. It creaks as he slings his weight into it. Groans as he stretches his legs out. His sneaker taps the chair in front. Peachy. 

Most eyes revert to the blackboard at the front, but one girl’s gaze lingers longer than the rest. Her brows furrowed in concentration before he raises his at her. 

It’s not flirtatious. More of a ‘what’re you looking at,’ kind of vibe, and really, what is she looking at? He’s got nothing on his face, though he wipes it just to make sure. Palm covering the smirk from her attention, scratching over the stubble on his chin that’s already regrown. His nose tingles under the weight of it, but it means little. 

She would too if she had an audience, yet her stares continue throughout the day like she has none. Done when she thinks he’s not watching. 

He is. He’s just better at hiding it.

She does it during music. Third and fourth period, too. He’d say she’s following him, but of course, she has a schedule of her own. She has to. It’s just a small high school. Doesn’t make it any less constricting. 

His nose tingles constantly. The grape jelly at lunch lingers in his gut along with his gun from the cheerleaders, and still she stares every so often with that same crinkle of her brows. It’s like she’s never seen a dude in a leather jacket before. Never seen a car as cool as his. 

As the week rolls on, though, she blends into the crowd. At least, he doesn’t notice her stares any longer, too busy with his own on cheerleader two. 

Her name is Melinda. Her ringlets, natural. Rack is too. Dean cops a feel when she helps him catch up on his biology between fifth and sixth in the janitor’s closet on the second Wednesday. He pays her back with a hickey on her right shoulder. 

“Mark’s having a party Friday,” she whispers into his ear. Hand grips his arm when he swirls his tongue to soothe the reddened skin.

“Good for him.” His fingers squeeze her, storing away the feel of the muscle bouncing back for future use. 

She scoffs and nudges him off. Said something, too, but Dean’s fixed on the way her lip shines under what little light the bulb overhead is giving. He leans closer in and pulls the bottom one between his own to taste more cherry. Feels the warmth bubble in his gut.

“Dean.” She smacks him this time. It would pinch, but the leather of his jacket softens the blow.

“What?”

“I’m asking if you wanna go with me. It could be fun.”

He wants to roll his eyes, and he almost does, but he knows doing so will stop him from getting any further with this girl, and he’s worked so hard to get her here. Listening to her talk about Leo and some song about Barbies. He forced himself to tune in to the local radio station and all he learned was that some guy, with a voice that sounded like a chain smoker, wanted Barbie to party.

Not him. Nope. The music they all listen to is trash, and he is not going to surround himself with it on a Friday night just to get some action. His hand’ll do just fine with the memories of her tit.

“Or we could hang out. Just me and you.” His lips nip at her again. “Brady Point.”

“Braden,” she says with a whine. and that click girls do when they’re trying to be angry. It’s cute. 

“Yeah.” He swoops back in. 

“But my friends will be there.” 

And this is going nowhere.

Her eyes are as still as the rest of her, holding him as if she’d physically reached in and grabbed them. Neither blinks, but Dean tries to convince her he’s more interesting than a party at Marks. 

Turns out he’s not, and he’s left to his own devices Friday night, lounging ‘round Bobby’s, cleaning his colt.

“Did John give ya a curfew I should know about?” his ‘uncle’ says across from him. Bottle of beer in his hand. 

Just as he did in the janitor’s closet with Melinda, Dean doesn’t blink when he looks back at him. He places the barrel down, reaches for the oil and busies his hands once again. 

It’s not like he wants to be here. He’d still rather be out on the road with John, even though he threatened to take the car. At least he’d be doing something useful with his time. Algebra ain’t going to help him gank no ghost. Don’t get him started on music theory or the essay due Tuesday morning.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Bobby takes a swig and stands with a loud scrape of his chair over the floor. The floorboards continue to protest as he pads his way to the fridge for another. The creak of the door and the rattle of glass is obvious enough, but what Dean doesn’t expect is to be handed one, too, when he returns. 

“Even Sam’s out with the friends he made.” Bobby glares at him over the bottle, twists the cap and flings it on the table. 

Dean does the same. 

He’s mid sip when Bobby sits back down and asks, “Weren’t you seeing that cheerleader? Melissa?” 

The cold brew goes down the wrong pipe, and his fist whacks the top of his sternum. The thump drowned out by his splutter and wheeze. How the hell does he know that? Unless…Sammy. That’s the last time he picks him up from school. Kid can ride his bike, rain or shine.

He looks up at Bobby, still waiting for him to be done. His beady eyes under his cap and the specks of grey in his beard continue to point at him. 

“What do you want me to say?” Dean dares before another mouthful. Slower this time. Letting the bubbles slide down his throat, keeping his mouth and hands occupied. 

“Nothing. Not my place to give ya advice, either.” He sighs, and Dean just knows there’s a ‘but,’ coming. “You got the chance to have a normal life for a minute. Why not enjoy it?” Bobby leans into the table. There’s a split second of grouch as his face changes and his jaw tightens, humbling his pride. “I hear that Sutton kid’s throwing a party.”

And Dean chokes again. Fucking Sam. He scowls. “You want me to go get drunk with a bunch of other kids? That what you’re saying?” 

“You telling me you’re straight-laced now? Only difference between them kids and me is they’ve got smaller prostates, and don’t need to whiz every—”

“Okay. Fine,” Dean says and gulps some more beer down. Thunks it on the table with finality and stands. He pulls his jacket on and steps over to pick up Baby’s keys from where he left them. 

But, “The hell you’re driving,” stops him in his tracks and he’s heading out the door, keyless and without another word, raising his collar up to protect his neck from the night air. The screen door slams behind him.

Now what? He doesn’t even know where the party is, let alone how he’s going to bust it to this guy’s house without his car. School’s a ten-minute drive from here, and chances are, Mark’s place is further still, and there’s no way he’s walking that far. 

He digs his boots in the dirt. Smushes the grass tufts, scattering the powder, blackened by the sky, and looks around. Cars, whole ones, shells of them, and stars as far as the eye can see surround him. But also under the shed, poking out behind the pole closest to him, the rim of a thin tire catches his eye. 

It’s the same place they used to keep their bike, not Sam’s new one - he stole that - but the one Bobby fixed up all those years ago. 

Of course, he’s grown, but the thing looks tiny. Creaks under his hands when he tugs it out. The bars are rusty and he can feel the coarse, flaky metal against his fingertips. Even the rubber handles have disintegrated. 

Out of its confines, he lifts his leg over and straddles the middle bar. Wheels it back and forth under him. He places his ass on the seat, and, yeah, there’s no way he can ride this thing like this, but if he stands, it’s possible. 

Shaky.

Rickety.

Yet before he knows it, he’s peddling down the path just the same. Gravel flicks up against his jeans, but it’s freeing. That wind in his hair. Breeze on his cheeks. The way his jacket swings behind him like a cape as he leans over the handlebars. The same ones Sammy used to ride on. 

Laughter. Fun. Bat signals. Ninja turtles. His mind goes back to a time when he shared it all with you that one spring. What was he, nine?

Huh. It’s been a while. He wonders what happened to you? Did you skip town? Do you go to school with him now, and he just hasn’t run into you yet? 

Maybe you’re at the party? One of Melinda’s friends, though you would’ve said something if he knew them, and none of their names match yours. Not even the middle name Mary, like your mom. You sure were long winded. Could blow the biggest bubbles in your shakes. 

God, he’s a dweeb. His nostalgia, pulling at his heart strings, buzzing his nose, and steering the bike to the old arcade ‘cause why not. 

Whirs. Dings. Whistles. Like Bobby’s, it hasn’t changed one bit. The jingles made by synthesisers are as familiar as Baby’s rumble. The soundtrack trying to overcome it all hasn’t let up its 80s tunes either, and Dean strides through the tinted doors to the riff of Kenny Loggins’ Danger Zone. He’s pumped.

Nope. Nothing’s changed, alright. 

There’s a musk to the place that he’s never been able to put his finger on, but one that’s popped up throughout his life. It’s a taste. A burn in his nostrils from dust and mould, sweaty palms, and old money that’s spent most of its life being jammed into the pockets of little boys.

Speaking of, he reaches deep into his and pulls out his leather wallet. Flips it open. Stops the just-in-case condom he keeps in there from falling out. He’s prepared, and he’s got plenty of dollar bills ready to change over.

He smooths one out, chuckles at the joke he’s made about rubbing that something else instead, and feeds the edge into the slot. Only has him grinning more. The thrill and rattle of money coming out is alright, too, and the closest to the feel of Vegas he’s gonna get without a fake ID and a broken razor.

Coin laden, he heads for Donkey Kong, the first thing he recognises - if only the sucker knew he wasn’t the main attraction any more. He bites his tongue with his newest coin-slot joke, is relieved for a moment that these things don’t spit out white tickets, and hits start.

It’s like riding the bicycle. All floods back. He even gets to the second level on the first go, but then Mario drops the hammer on himself and then is hit by a barrel. Totally not his fault. Totally, he tries again.

It mightn’t be as advanced as modern, 3D Mario or Zelda, but there’s an addiction for sure. He plays another, and a few more than he’s willing to admit before moving on to the next one. Has a go at all his favourites. Loses to some punk-ass junior on Time Crisis. 

“Real guns don’t work like that,” he spits over Bon Jovi’s ‘Shot Through the Heart’, and heads to the snack bar. Another piece of nostalgia, Red Vines, call his name.

By now it’s getting close to nine. Not late for a guy with no curfew, but late enough that the younger kids are calling it quits, and sweet, zero lines. 

He steps up to the counter, pulls out his wallet again and looks straight into the eyes of the girl with the goofy hat. She’s not wearing it now, though. Hair pulled up off her face and neck. He just recognises the furrowed brow, and his raise in unison. 

Great. “Hey,” he says. Mutters, more like. 

He avoids her stare and concentrates on the candy before him, picking up two packets of the red licorice and a box of Milk Duds. “Can I get a root beer, too?” He smiles out of politeness, but it’s reserved, and lacks its usual charm. He straightens when she continues to stare and startles as much as she does when she realises.

“Ah, sure.” She turns on the soundtrack’s newest changeover, a slow synthetic drumbeat that’s as almost familiar as the way her hairline pulls at her neck below her pink blouse. 

It can’t be. It’s too coincidental. He finds that bike only to think of the girl he once knew, and there she is, just like that? All this talk of hoodoo, but it is the same town, the same arcade?

Nah. Coincidence. That’s all this is. Pure coincidence. These thoughts and memories about the girl he once knew messing with his brain more and more…until she turns around again and he really looks at her. At you.

He looks at you. 

And if this all hasn’t wigged him out already, the guy, swooning over the stereo says something about always being friends someday.

His finger points in your direction and it’s not just for telling you what else he wants to buy. 

You blink. Those eyes. Those brows. 

“You’re—”

“Hi Dean,” you say with a thin smile, and then, as if his recognition fuels you, that confident tone he’s just remembered, the one that once took his juice box, has you adding, “Took you long enough.”

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Am I running with that one random line Dean made about Zelda, somewhere in the show? You bet I am ✌️

I know I put five chapters down in the Masterlist, but I ended this chapter earlier than intended because it seemed like a better spot than I’d planned, so there might be another yet, time will tell.

Did you know a Dean in high school? Did you date someone like him? I had way too much fun writing him as a horny teenager 😂 let’s see how they get along now 😘

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[able-remedious]

Aurora Light

Touched Starved - Oneshot

Summary: After about a week of her new situation with living with a toon/light god she finds out he has not felt the warmth of touch, so when she gently gives him a alright touch he is all over her

A/n: Based heavily on @velka-art ‘s touched starved Lux art, Lux gets very handsy, Deliah is gonna be FLUSTERED, suggestive, and fluff cause Lux needs to be held

It’s been a week since Deliah brung the living cartoon home, and it’s been, something. Mr Ring a Ding has been a bit of a pain to her. Constantly asking her many questions, and rummaging through her stuff, not to mention is trying to charm her.

Everyday when she wakes up he’s just there staring at her and it’s creeped her out at first but now it’s getting annoying. Today is no different, she wakes up and he’s there sitting at the end of her bed just smiling.

“Good morning sunshine!” He waved and she just sighs and gets off her bed “morning to you too” she says and walked to the restroom to brush her teeth and locks it and puts a towel at the bottom cause Mr Ring a Ding has got in a few times, even when she showers.

She’s tried to explain her boundaries but he just brushes it off and doesn’t listen, well sometimes he’s does but it’s not very often.

Then she goes back in her room, buried her hair and has to basically beg Ring to get out.

“Mr Ring a Ding, please, it’s just for a few minutes!” Deliah whines “but you don’t have to be ashamed, doll! I’d admire your body on how whatever it looks, and I bet you’re quite the looker~” he smirked.

“Shut up, get out! I don’t wanna do this so early in the morning!” She groaned “you better be out or I’ll literally throw you out mister”.

“Ok, ok” he rose his arms in defense and walked out and she closed the door to get dressed in just a simple t-shirt and shorts.

As she was getting dressed she thought about the realization that, she has never touched him once, like since they met she has never got into any physical contact with him.

Neither has he, Mr Ring a Ding has also not touched her, and come to think of it from memory it kinda seems that he try’s to avoid that? It confused her.

Once she was done she walked out of her room and went to her kitchen and decided to cook potatoes for today. She cut a few to small pieces and cut a few onions and put them in a pan.

As she was cooking Mr Ring a Ding came in “what’s on today menu sweetie pie?” He asked. “Just come potatoes, um, do you want some? I mean you said yourself you really don’t need to eat since lights all you need but, maybe a meal wouldn’t hurt?”.

“Hmm, you know what? Sure! I mean your being so nice to me now after that small yell this morning” he chuckled “hey, you need to respect my boundaries, and I mean it, or else bug boy” she came up with that nickname from the antennas on his head, his design confused her but that cartoon was made in the 30s or something and many cartoons had interesting designs.

“I’ll try, but you’re just too irresistible~ tell me, do you think the same?” He asked with half lids eyes and a smug smirk “we just met, ok? And I wouldn’t know how this kind of relationship would work”.

“Well, I’d definitely give you unconditional love, my beautiful angel”.

“Yeah ok, take a seat these are almost done”.

The small man had to literally climb onto a chair and stand on it to reach the table and Deliah chuckled a little, she went to the fridge to quickly get something to add, cheese, she sprinkled a lot onto the cooked potatoes and made sure it melted then put the potatoes on two separate plates.

She put them in the table and got some juice and poured a cup for her and Ring. “You’re gonna love this Ring, it’s very good” Deliah sat down and began to eat.

Mr Ring a Ding looked down at the food he picked up a spoon he was given and used it to scoop some potatoes and put it in his mouth.

He chewed and swallowed, it was kinda weird for him since he’s probably never done this before. It rooms moment before he gave a reaction “wow, this is actually pretty good! You’re a good cook”. Deliah smiled “thanks, I’m glad you like it” she continued eating.

After a few minutes the two were done and Deliah washed their dishes so she wouldn’t have to worry about it later. After she was done walked to the living room where Mr Ring a Ding was going through her cds.

A lot of them were animated movies and he found an interest in those cause he wanted to see how animation improved over the years. “When you find a movie to watch you better clean that up after”.

She sat down on the couch and he looked over at her “sorry, it’s just there’s so many choices” he attention went back to the cds “you know we can also stream these, there’s many other animated movies options from that”.

“Nah, I’d rather stick to what’s close to traditional”.

“Ok, so, which one for today?”.

“I don’t know, maybe you can pick this time?”.

She looked over the movies on the floor “hm, ok, do you wanna watch Monsters Inc or Cars?”

“Let’s do Cars, living cars sounds intriguing”.

He passed her the dvd and she put it in, Mr Ring a Ding sat down next to her as the movie began to start.

────────────────────

Soon the movie was over and Ring of course loved it, and asked many questions after wards “is someone driving the cars?” “How do they have tongues?” “How do they make new cars?”.

Deliah couldn’t really answer any of them since it was complicated to her too. Speaking of questions that thought she had earlier came up and she thought she’d might as well ask it now.

“Mr Ring a Ding? I’ve noticed I’ve never touched you once and you haven’t touched me once, and I’m wondering if you have a reason for that”.

He looked over at her and felt a little frozen “um, well, it’s just I normally don’t touch honey, I mean, it’s not much of a concern right?.

“Ring have you never felt touch before?” She asked and he felt more frozen “…no, I mean, I’m a god, I don’t think I really need that”.

Deliah would think other wise, I mean, from looking at him now, he looks like he needs it “I think you do, I mean if your trying to date me, I’m sure learning to feel another being would be good in a relationship”.

“Look, I was all alone for many years and I was fine, ok yeah I was bored and needed someone to talk to, but I didn’t need touch, I mean, do I sometimes think about it? Yes, do I just imagine feeling the warmth of someone’s hold that doesn’t even need light to feel warm? I admit that, yes, but I’m again, I’m a god, I think I can go on without all that”.

He looked a little nervous and sad at the same time now, Deliah frowned, he’s been yearning touch and by the looks of it, fearing it too.

“Ring, are you scared of what touch might feel like?”.

“What? That’s preposterous! No! I’m the god of light, I don’t get scared of something so simple”.

“I think you are scared, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s not bad”.

“…so what? I mean it’s still something new to me, everything is!”.

“Then how about I try and do this”.

She reached over to gently touch his cheek but he shooed her hand away “hey now! I just said I don’t need touch!”.

“Mr Ring a Ding it’s just for a moment, give it a try” she reached over again and he wasn’t liking this, he was about to tell her off until she managed to cup his cheek in her hand, and since he was smaller, her hand just held one side of his head.

He jumped a bit at the touch, this was a whole new sensation to him. He didn’t try and pull away, he looked embarrassed and like he was gonna cry.

Deliah grazed his cheek with her thumb, he felt warm, I mean for a light god that wouldn’t be surprising but this warmth felt not like normal body heat, but like warmth from the sun.

Then Mr Ring a Ding grasped her wrist and leaned into her palm more with a visible blush on his face and a single small tear. He kept the grasp and his head tilted up a little, with his nose and mouth being pressed up against her hand.

She started to softly smile at him and move her hand so she had her index finger and the rest of her fingers between his cheek. He had hearts in his eyes now and looked dazed, and his antennas formed a heart.

She cooed and this continued till she started to pull away cause it seemed like he had enough but he snapped out of his trance and looked at her hand, wanting it back.

He proceeded to do the most cartoon thing possible and wrap himself around her arm and press his face against her hand with a bigger blush. Deliah blushed too and was surprised he was this light.

“Ok Ring, you can let go now” she said trying to gently shake him off “no..let me stay like this..just for a little longer” he mumbled nuzzling her hand. “Ok, but you better get off once my arm gets tired”.

────────────────────

3 hours later, after that flustering moment Deliah could only think about how desperate Mr Ring a Ding looked and honestly she liked it, seeing him being so touched starved. She got an idea, if he could tease her then she should tease him back.

Mr Ring a Ding was in her room, looking at her things again, Deliah walked in with a smirk he didn’t notice her there until she walked up to him and held his chin and made him look at her. He looked confused then pushed her hand away.

“No, no, not again”.

“not again? What do you mean not again? I thought you liked my touch?”.

“I did, but it made me all mushy and gushy, and I love you sweetie but I don’t think I want to act like a fool again”.

“Not even one hold?”.

“No, not interested”.

He turned his gaze away from her, but she wasn’t gonna give up like that. She reached up to his antennas and grabbed one with two of her fingers and Mr Ring a Ding froze again like last time.

Deliah got him right where she wanted him and stated to rub the antenna between her fingers and he started to get flustered.

She rested her hand on his head for a moment and slid up to hold both his antennas and started to rub again.

“Is bug boy getting flustered?” She cooed and he couldn’t take it anymore as his eyes turned to hearts again and were yellow this time.

He smacked her hand away with one of his eyes looking yellow with a very flustered look on his face as he tried to laugh it off and tugged his collar a bit.

Deliah was still determined tho, she put both of her hands on each side of his face and his eyes turned yellow again, he was surprised at first but didn’t fight back, instead he just accepted it with a blush.

She moved her hands along his head, his eyes had hearts in them once again and was in a trance. His eyes closed letting her hands wander and he grasped her wrists again.

He started to let out little noises of love and Deliah was getting excited about that and continued moving her hands around, slightly brushing his hair with her finger tips, pressing his cheeks with her palms, and brushing her thumb over his lips.

She was loving being in control and in a quick moment she got his antennas and messed with them. He let out a flustered noise and held her arms.

His antennas formed into a heart again “aaaww, you love me”. She went down back to his face and squished his cheeks. They were both enjoying the moment, Deliah had him being all blushy and touched starved and she LOVED it.

She squeezed his cheeks once more then pulled away. He did that cartoon floaty thing to feel her hand again then fell on the floor, Deliah laughed “oh man!”.

He lifted his head and immediately got up, with a small blush on his cheeks he just stood there. “You ok? Ring? Lux?” Deliah asked.

He looked at her with a wide smile “well then, whoever enters the game, must endure the game”.

Deliah got confused then suddenly or film stock appeared out of nowhere and wrapped around his wrists “what the?-” she was pulled forward and Mr Ring a Ding pulled the film stock down so she was sitting on her knees.

He looked down at her with a wide grin and sat down in front of her and took one of her hands, she was getting a little nervous but all he did was rest it on his cheek.

He nuzzled her palm and just stared at her with half lidded eyes, she tried to move her other arm but the film stock held her in place, she thought on where the hell did it come from?

Her attention was brought back onto Ring as he slid her hand down and kissed her palm! She blushed and her hand flinched. He kissed is again, it was soft and warm and slow, he kept slowly kissing her palm and moved her hand a bit and bit bellow her thumb.

It wasn’t a hard bite but enough to leave a mark, Deliah had her mouth shut to make sure she didn’t let out any noises to boost the ego he currently had.

He pulled away only to bite her index finger and leave another mark, then he licked the mark and that made her blush more and gave him a peeved look.

His tongue was warm and he licked the whole mark slowly, very sensual, he left a kiss on it and another kiss on the other mark.

Deliah thought it’d be over as he pulled away and let go of her hand, but he tugged his bow tie off then slowly slid off his vest, Deliah knew what he was gonna do and she tried to move to protest. He crawled over to her and made a shushing gesture, still with his smirk.

“Oh no, no, no, no! Mr Ring a Ding! Lux! No!” She thrashed but he got on top of her. “You know you want to~”.

She shook her head “if this is just payback I’m sorry! I’m not ready for anything like this dude!” She looked up at him and he took a good look at her.

“Alright” he simply said and she stopped moving “what?”. “If you’re not ready then alright, and besides, I was just teasing you~” he winked.

“You asshole!” She yelled “hey, language” he snapped his fingers and the film stock disappeared, he rested his heads on her and wrapped his arms around her.

“Can you please get off?” She asked “nope, this is still payback” he nuzzled her and she sighed and sat back just going with this “so, how did you do that with the film stock things? Where did it come from?”.

“Oh, it’s a little something I picked up, I can do some really sensual stuff with them once you’re ready~”.

“Well that won’t be for a while and we’re not even dating”.

“Yet, all you have to do is say you love me”.

“I’m debating on that, and these marks are gonna a few days to fade, thanks a lot”.

“You’re welcome!~”.

[bluesidez]

Hi! I saw your opening requests!

I was hoping for Miguel O’Hara x plus-size reader. Reader is a regular waitress who meets both Miguel and Spider-Man. Knows Miguel because he’s become a regular and Spider-Man because the diner gets robbed, but Reader manages to save herself. Also if the reader could have glasses that would be awesome!

It’s up to you! You’re the writer.

Also I just wanted to say I love your Gym rat Miguel series! 😁❤️💙❤️

[Dual]

lab taster: Anonymous Participant 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x PlusSize!Reader

summary: There's something strange about that guy in the corner...

content warning: fluffy, definitely suggestive at parts, I kind of take a bit from the comic books, but it's still the ATSV Miguel, Kasey Nash is here + a certain someone for like a millisecond, talks of violence, guns, and threats (but nothing too terrifying), also LOTS of mentions of food. like lotsssss

word count: 3.6k, halfway proofread

a/n: I started writing this as if she worked at a fancy restaurant, but then I realized you said diner, so I had to backtrack. ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON GYM RAT MIGUEL!!! 🩵

“I’ve never seen one man eat so much.”

You looked to where your coworker was staring, eyes landing on the man that frequents the corner of the dim dining room.

“He’s a big guy. He probably needs it,” you flipped through your pad in order to avoid looking at the person who’s been wrapped in your thoughts for a few months now.

He always comes in just when the afternoon is turning into evening and the sun kisses his skin through the window. Most days he looks a little tired, lost in thought as he waits for his food.

His order is usually the same: a double-stacked burger with a large fry and a black coffee. Sometimes, he’d substitute the meal with a heavy breakfast, pouring syrup over everything. Other times, he’d order pork chops and gravy with a slice of apple pie to take home.

He always looked a bit sheepish when he asked for a meal to-go, as if you would judge him openly for being a working man.

On the contrary, you wondered why he always came here. From the shine on his watch to the material of his clothes, you could tell he could afford better establishments to eat at.

“If you’re done ogling at him, you can bring him the check,” Kasey snickered at you. “He keeps looking over here and it’s freaking me out.”

“You just don’t like anyone but that flying bug guy.”

“That’s Mr. Spider-Man to you,” Kasey moved so that you could print out his receipt. “And he does something useful with his time like save civilians. That guy just comes in here and looks at you like he wants to eat you for dessert.”

“What?”

You turn to him again and he quickly looks out of the window, plastic cup pressed against his lips.

“I don’t think he even sees me like that,” you mumble, ripping the paper from the machine and placing it onto the clipboard. “He’s just a man who enjoys comforting meals and ambiance.”

“Yeah. An ambiance that starts and ends with you and your ass, maybe.”

An affronted “hey” goes ignored by Kasey who disappears to go serve another table.

She really shouldn’t have put that thought into your head, because now you’re more hyperaware of your actions than usual.

You wipe at your apron and pull your dress down before you head towards his table, steps a bit hesitant.

As you get closer, he looks back at you. Maybe he is interested, but maybe you’re a bit delusional.

“Here’s your check, sir. I hope you enjoyed your meal,” you placed the clipboard on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thank you,” he holds up the check up with a small smile. “Maybe a name so I know who my tip is going to.”

Your fingers press against the frames of your glasses, pushing them up a little.

Did you forget to introduce yourself to him when you sat him down?

When you say your name, your confusion must have carried over to your face because the way the man brings his hands up is quick.

“Ah, it’s fine Mr.-“ you take a glance at his card, never mind that you’ve already memorized his name, “O’Hara.”

“Miguel is fine.”

“Mr. Miguel.”

“Just. Miguel is fine.”

You nod and smile. Miguel was fitting for a face like that, and your heart felt the same way as you completed his transaction and handed him his receipt.

The thought of him being interested in you was cute to imagine, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

Kasey taps your shoulder as she carries a coffee jug back to the machine, “Go clear your table. There’s a tip.”

With a routined step, you start to stack his empty plates. Napkins get thrown into the bin, and utensils are gathered.

A gasp leaves your lips as a stack of 20s reveals itself. A note wrapped around it says your name and “Thank you for always making my nights.”

Maybe Kasey was right. She could never know that, though.

It’s about a week or so before Miguel comes back.

Oddly enough, too much happened at the diner within that time.

Your boss was on your ass about splitting your tips with a manager that was never there. Creeps kept lingering around the corner during closing time. Your schedule was insane and you’ve hit your monthly limit of rude customers.

When Miguel comes in, it’s almost as if white angel wings were attached to him.

“What can I get you today?” you ask with a smile.

“I think just a black coffee to start off,” he looks over you. “New uniforms?”

You glance down at your dress, the neckline of it plunging severely low.

“Yeah. The boss thinks it’ll bring in more customers,” you yank at the back of the dress, still a bit nervous about how high the skirt is on your body. It’s tight in places that no uniform can should be, hugging your curves, and exposing your chest and legs. “I think he’s full of it.”

Miguel is silent for a while, eyes roaming in a way that you couldn’t quite discern.

“He definitely was onto something.”

You blink.

“Uh, is he- He’s not causing any problems for you, is he?”

“No. It’s all good. For now.”

He stumbles his way through his order, corned beef on rye bread with swiss cheese and sauerkraut along with some homemade potato spirals.

“Will that be all for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” he hides behind his coffee mug as you walk away.

While you wait for his order to be done, you watch Kasey run around and chat with some of your regulars. Despite how grumpy she could be, she was a natural at keeping the customers entertained.

Refilling the drinks for a few people at the barstools, your mind drifts to what Kasey is saying to one of the old geezers who’s keen on superstitions.

“I’m just saying, there has to be a motive for why he only strikes in the afternoon!”

“Are you sure he’s just not an idiot desperate for attention?” Kasey removes his empty plate and tops off his water. “Leaving notes with riddles? That’s so been-there-done-that.”

“Kase, I don’t think you get it, doll. His attacks have gotten more and more severe. He’s starting to target a specific demographic.”

A shout and a ding by the window lets you know that Miguel’s order is ready. You place an extra pickle on his plate just because.

Rounding the corner of the bar, Kasey is still bickering about the city’s most recent villain.

“Listen. If I’m ever in dire need,” she turns and sighs dramatically at a news segment featuring Spider-Man flying across buildings, “I know who to call for.”

The old man clicks his teeth and throws a hand at the screen, “What a bunch of rubbish. That prick isn’t worth a hoot. The Fly-Boys are your best bet.”

“As if those douchebags can do anything for me. Hurry up and pay, mister.”

You place Miguel’s food in front of him, mouth moving before your mind.

“Spider-man seems like a nice guy.”

“What makes you say so?” Miguel reaches for the ketchup.

“Oh, I don’t know. Kasey is always going on and on about him, so any doubts I had, she’s already debunked.”

He’s silent, turning over his sandwich.

“And what do you think of him now?”

“I think he’s pretty cool. He must be stressed out from everything, though. I couldn’t imagine taking on so much. What about you?”

He coughs, “What about me?”

“What do you think of Spider-Man?”

“He’s practical, always gets the job done. Maybe a bit too ambitious for his own good.”

“You talk like you know him.”

“I’ve never met him,” Miguel hums. “ Just taking a wild guess.”

The clip switches to Spider-Man throwing a car right at a villain camping out in a park resulting in immediate flames.

“That’s practical, alright.”

Miguel clears his throat, “He’s probably had better days.”

It’s been raining a lot which meant slower business and slower tips.

You’ve spent most work hours folding and refolding the towel in your apron pocket or flipping through the songs on the jukebox to fill the stillness of the diner.

A few lone stragglers were enjoying their meal, keeping quiet to themselves.

The chefs in the back were roughhousing and Kasey was ticking down when she could clock out.

Two more hours and thirty until you could fight through the rain to get home.

The bell to the door rings, opening up to a drenched Miguel.

A smile comes to your face as if you won a cash prize.

“Hey, stranger,” Kasey says as she turns and starts up a pot of coffee as you round the corner. “Glad to see you here. She was worried sick! You haven’t come in for a while.”

“Kasey, hush!”

“No, no, let her speak,” Miguel taps against the counter. “I’d like to hear what she has to say.”

You elbow Kasey before she even thinks to respond, “Would you like your regular seat, Miguel?”

“I would love that. Had a long day.”

“That you should tell her all about over some coffee,” Kasey smiles. “Go ahead, I’ll cover you.”

You sigh as Kasey follows you to wear Miguel usually sits, and gets Miguel’s order down. She fights silently with you over sitting down across from him. Her eyes saying something along the lines of “we can split the tip,” “here’s your chance,” and “that old fart isn’t going to fire you.”

So there you were, sitting across the guy who you anticipate to come in every so often. The guy who loved simple, American-style meals. The guy with the nice build and a pretty face.

The guy who can’t stop looking at your chest right now.

“You said you had a tough day?” you peer at him from over your glasses, a little unsure of what his steady eyes meant.

“Um, yeah,” he stutters. “There’s been some changes in positions at my job. Some higher ups are giving me trouble, but I think they’re scared they’re about to lose their seats.”

“Oh, you didn’t tell me you were a big-shot.”

“I wouldn’t say all of that,” he grins as he bends his head down. The way his hair falls is dreamy and it’s no fair that he still looks this good despite the rain dousing him. “I’m just in an interesting spot.”

Kasey plops down a hot plate of chopped steak and mashed potatoes smothered in gravy with some steaming broccoli on the side. There’s a heaping amount of food on the plate and you give her an incredulous look before she whips out an extra pair of utensils.

“The guys in the back a closing up shop. They want as little dishes to wash as possible.”

“We don’t close until-”

“As little dishes as possible!” Kasey sing-songs, leaving you shifting in your seat.

Miguel picks up a fork, “I hope you like beef.”

He starts to cut into the meat and you’re slow to follow, watching his arms bulge through through his sweater.

You wonder if he could hear your heart rattling in your chest.

The conversation continues and you learn that Miguel works at Alchemax working as a head lab technician.

“Miguel, that’s amazing! I’ve seen old classmates nearly go to war for that position.”

“It’s not all that it’s chalked up to be.”

“It’s still astounding that you got to that level,” you push your fork through some potatoes and take a bite, “You should be proud. And if not, I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he looks up at you while you continue to chew. “You’ve got something here.”

“Oh,” you quickly take your fingers to your lips, embarrassed.

“Here,” Miguel reaches across from you and wipes he corner of your mouth with a napkin. “All better.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Time is lost as you two exchange words, Miguel making you laugh over the smallest things. He’s as sweet as ever, his compliments make you ecstatic, and he listens when you go into your own stories. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been grinning.

“Hey, so, I’ve been thinking,” Miguel starts.

“About?”

He takes a deep breath, shoulders tensing up.

“I would love to take you on a date. Somewhere nice and exciting. That’s if you would want to, of course. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Miguel,” you stop his ramblings with a hand on his wrist, “I would love to go on a date with you.”

His shoulders relax, and his smile is wide.

The chime of the door rings, signaling another customer coming inside. His hands are in his pockets and his hoodie is pulled tight around him. Not an uncommon sight, but the diner was set to close soon.

You followed his steps as he sat in Kasey’s side of the diner, his leg bouncing repeatedly.

“For our date,” Kasey meets your eyes before she goes to his table. Her hospitable tone switched on. “Where were you thinking of going?”

Miguel begins to answer, but you continue to stare at the other side of the room. The guy is jumpy and from what you can tell, snappy. Kasey looks antsy as she walks back to the counter to grab a cup and a picture of water.

Miguel turns around to look where you’re watch and turns back, “Is something wrong?”

“That guy is making Kasey nervous. She’s hiding it well, but she’s freaking out.”

You both watch as he scans that side of the room, body rocking in the still chair.

It was daunting and quiet. The sound of the rain drowning out the idle noises of the dining room.

“Something’s not right,” you whisper.

From how Miguel gets up, you can see that he can feel the uneasiness, too.

Kasey walks over to him, a slice of thick chocolate cake on a small plate in her hands. She places it on the table, ready to ask if he needs anything else.

Time stops as he grabs her arm and yanks her towards him, the few customers left stopping to watch the scene. Kasey pulls her arm back, ready to put up a fight.

The man pulls something out of his pocket, Kasey’s voice reaching a shriek. You gasp as you see him point it right at her head, nerves nearly failing you. People scramble to corners of the room, some falling to the floor.

Miguel grabs your arm and drags you to the bathroom, your hands covering your mouth as you fight the urge to scream.

You can’t feel anything as he shoves you into a stall, your limbs trembling. Tears are running down your face as you try to think, but Miguel is holding you up to keep you from falling.

“Stay in here, and lock the door. Don’t come out.”

“But Miguel, he has a gun! We, we should call someone. You can’t go back out there!”

“I’ll be ok. I promise.”

“How do you know that?”

“Look at me,” Miguel takes your hands as you slide to the floor. He makes the trip easy, arms solid. “I’ll meet you when this is over, ok?”

“Ok,” your vision blurs as Miguel leaves, face worn with sorrow.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the gross bathroom floor, sobbing into your hands.

You could hear shouting and screaming, the yells of the man telling everyone to shut up. A few bangs of his gun went off and you bit your wrist in order to give yourself away. It didn’t feel right to be the only one to make an escape, but maybe you would be next to die, too.

The rain continues outside, a loud strike of thunder echoing off the tiles as lights flicker off. Your heartbeat picks up as you try not to make a sound. The lightning illuminates the room for a second, and the noise from outside stops.

You can’t tell what’s going on, the pit of your stomach falling with every second.

The door bangs open, and you feel like passing out. It sounds like the ocean is roaring in your ears as you try to listen for footsteps.

One second turns into two, two turns into ten, and you lose count of how long you’re holding your breath.

Your stall is pried open as the lightning shines through the window. Even as you see the masked hero, your throat lets out a weak cry.

“Come on,” he says, eyes on his mask squinting. “It’s safe now.”

With your eyes refocusing, you see Spider-Man standing tall and proud, with Kasey latched to his back like a koala.

Your hand moves across the stall before you feel yourself falling forward.

Spider-Man catches you with ease, lifting you into his arms.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

He carries you both back to the dining room where the robber is beaten black and blue, tied up in neon red webbing. People are huddled up together as policemen ask them questions.

Spider-Man places you in a seat and grabs a blanket from the pile that was brought in. You thank him with a soft voice.

“You can get off of my back now,” he tells Kasey. “He won’t hurt you any time soon.”

“No! I think I want to stay here,” she says. Her eyes surveying the side of his head. Her hands rub the side of his mask, “You really are as sturdy as they say. And this suit! It’s so cooling. What’s it made of? Silk?”

“No, it’s- Will you get off of me, please?”

Kasey jumps to the floor, face filled with glee, like she didn’t just get held at gunpoint.

“Where’s my phone? I have to get a picture. Look here! Say ‘whiskey’! Oh, wait, you can’t really smile can you? Can you sign something for me? My friends are going to be so jealous.”

Spider-Man stiffens up as Kacey flits around him like an excited puppy.

You try to be happy for her, but you can’t find Miguel. He said we would be ok.

There’s an old couple by the window, a mom and her son by the bar, a truck driver talking to the police. No Miguel.

“Shock, can you give me a second?” Spider-Man barks as Kasey tries to climb over him again, squealing like a schoolgirl.

“Excuse me,” you tug at his hand that Kasey doesn’t have a grip on, “Have you seen a man, about 6’8 or so? Sweater, khakis, and a lanyard. He- he was with me before the robber came. I don’t see him anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, this is everyone that was here when I came. Maybe he went to get help.”

“Oh, god,” you take in a watery gulp of air. “What if something happened to him out there? He told me he would be ok!”

“Hey, I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll be alright. No need to panic. Everything from here and a few miles out is taken care of. No one else is coming out here in this weather.”

The guy starts to wake up and fight against the webbing.

“I gotta take care of this,” he pulls Kasey off of him. “See you around, ladies.”

“But Spider-Man-”

Oranges, blues, and reds flash before you, Spider-Man flopping the man over his shoulder as he walks through, stoic silhouette disappearing before you.

You sit in horror as everything weighs down on you.

Something, no, someone, was taken from you before it even had a chance to begin.

Kasey’s hands are rubbing on your back as you cry into the blanket in your lab.

You had no idea where Miguel was.

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Kasey whispers to you, “And if not, I’ll kill him.”

A chuckle comes out of you, a bit half-hearted.

The lights of a car beam through the windows, doors slamming as people came rushing through the door.

You look up to Miguel and a man that looked almost identical.

“Miguel!” you run to him, his arms nearly taking you off the ground. “Oh my god, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Your hands shake as you touch across his face. He’s all intact, although still drenched.

“I’m ok, I promised you I would be. I went to go get help.”

“Hot help at that,” Kasey whistles as she looks at the man behind Miguel.

“Are you alright?” Miguel covers the hand you have on your face. “I hope I didn’t give you too much of a scare.”

“I’m better now,” you practically melt into him. “Is that date still on?”

“It was never off. I just need your number now. And we can get out of here, yeah?”

You nod and lean onto his chest listening to his heart sing to you.

It feels familiar.

As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT! It felt very mysterious to write even thought I didn't really mean for it to be.

[c0s-lettuce]

common factor - dave lizewski x reader

synopsis: after getting stood up, you seek out the one person who makes everything better.

word count: 1.5k

warnings/tags: gender not explicitly mentioned but dave calls reader "ladybug", best friend!dave

a/n: recently watched kick-ass and omg atj is so cute. inspired by the scene in kick-ass 2 when mindy goes to dave after getting date ditched.

Tonight was slowly becoming a disaster. It had already been a mediocre week at school. So, when a nice boy with blue eyes asked you out, you were eager to say yes.

And so, you stood alone in front of the movies on a chilly Thursday evening as you waited for your date. You knew you had the right time and place. You had checked Ben's message multiple times. But still, you waited for five minutes. Then ten. Then twenty.

You called it quits after thirty-four minutes.

As you begin your walk of shame, you don't yearn for your home or bed. You don't think of anything that would usually provide you comfort. Right now, all you want is your best friend.

So, you make your way over to his place. It had been a while since you climbed up to his window, but you still remember the spots to step and hold on to. Mr Lizewski was rarely ever strict enough to require sneaking around. But it was too late to knock, so the window it was.

You land softly on the floor inside. Dave sleeps soundly in his bed, the light from the street gently illuminating his face. He looks so peaceful that you begin to feel bad for waking him. But your need for comfort overrides your guilt.

"Dave?" you call out, loud enough to wake him.

Dave awakens slowly, blinking in the dimness. His eyes find yours, and he jolts upright.

"Holy shit," he mutters, reaching over to turn on the lamp. "What are you doing here?"

You take a seat on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry for waking you. I just really needed to see you."

He sits up, immediately concerned. "Hey, what's wrong? Did something happen with Ben?"

You had told him about the date, of course. He was happy for you. Dave is always happy for you.

"He stood me up," you tell him.

Dave's eyes soften, and he pulls you in for a hug. You melt in his embrace, unable to stop the stray tears that fall from your eyes.

"Oh, bug. I'm so sorry. He's such an ass," Dave says softly, rubbing your back.

"I think there's something wrong with me," you say as you pull away.

He furrows his brow. "What? That is not true. How could you say that?"

You shake your head. "No, you don't understand. I'm-"

I'm in love with you, is what you want to say.

You want to tell him you only agreed to go out with Ben because his eyes reminded you of Dave's. That's the only reason you paid attention to anyone lately. Alex with the hair, James with the smile and Ben with the eyes. If you broke them all down, Dave would be the common factor.

But the words refuse to come out. So, instead, you say, "I'm hopeless."

"You're not hopeless," Dave reassures.

"Then why does this keep happening?" you ask.

Dave's hands take yours. "It's not you. It's them, okay? They're all jerks. And you know what? I'm glad Ben didn't show. Because you're too good for him, ladybug."

You frown, unsure how to respond to that. You look down at your hands, at how they fit in his.

Dave takes this opportunity to continue, "I mean it. You're so sweet and kind and funny. He doesn't deserve a second of your time, much less your tears."

"I know, you're right," you say. "I guess I just... wanted to be liked."

Dave nods in understanding, "You are, though. You're loved. You don't need Ben to prove that."

His words manage to make you smile a little bit. You nod in response, knowing he's right again.

"Why don't you stay over for the night?" Dave suggests. "I can get you some clothes to sleep in."

"Yeah," you reply. "Yeah, that sounds great."

Dave smiles. "Perfect. You stay right here."

Dave gives you a spare shirt and a pair of pyjama shorts you forgot once during a sleepover. After a quick shower, you get changed and take a moment to compose yourself, not wanting to shed any more tears.

Meanwhile, Dave waits for you in bed. He felt as if his heart could break. You looked so beautiful tonight. You should be out being admired and doted on. But instead, you were left in tears. Dave starts considering putting on his Kick-Ass suit and teaching Ben a lesson.

However, his plans don't go much further before you return from the bathroom. You tiptoe over to the bed, and Dave lifts the covers up for you. You slip in beside him, instantly comforted by the soft sheets and the subtle scent that lingers on them.

You and Dave lie facing each other, the setting familiar and cozy. He reaches forward to play with your hair, brushing his fingers from the top of your head to behind your ear. The repetitive motion soothes you.

"I don't want to see Ben tomorrow," you tell him.

He nods. "I'll stick with you as much as I can. I won't let him bother you."

"I don't know how people do it," you say. "All this dating and relationships, especially in high school."

"I couldn't tell you," he answers. "My one and only girlfriend publicly broke up with me and told me she cheated on me at the same time."

You cringe at the reminder. You remember when Dave started dating Katie. He had such a big crush on her, and you tried your best to be supportive. You tried not to hate her. You were glad when she did something worthy of your resentment.

"God, that was horrible," you say.

"Yeah. Maybe we're both cursed with bad luck," Dave replies.

You frown. "I thought ladybugs are supposed to be lucky."

Dave chuckles at your statement, taking a moment to think. "You're right. Maybe the universe is doing us a favour by showing us we don't need them. You know you'll always matter more to me than some random girl."

"That won't always be true," you say quietly.

"Sure it will, bug," he replies. "It's me and you forever, remember?"

His words make you want to shrivel up under the covers. They take you back to the old days when you and Dave had not a single care in the world.

"Yeah, I remember," you mumble.

Dave smiles. "Good. Don't you forget it."

You take a deep breath, shutting your eyes for a moment. You never expected this night to be so emotionally taxing. A few moments of comfortable silence pass as you try to ground yourself.

"Hey," Dave speaks up after a while. "How about I take you out this weekend?"

You open your eyes again, slightly surprised. How about I take you out? You wonder if he phrased it like that on purpose.

"You don't have to," you tell him.

"I want to," he says. "It's been a while since we did something without Todd or Marty. Maybe we can see the new Avengers movie. I know you have a crush on Thor."

You glare at him, feigning offence. "I do not have a crush on Thor."

He grins. "Aw, come on. You can tell me the truth. Though, I'll have to try very hard not to be jealous."

You whack him on the arm, and he laughs.

"Okay, kidding," he says, "But seriously, we can do that. Or watch something else. Or do anything, really."

The ideal appeals to you more than you care to admit. You nod, "I'd like that a lot."

He smiles. "Great. It'll be my treat. We'll have the best time, I promise."

You smile back. "Thanks, Dave."

"Don't mention it," he replies. "Now, go to sleep. Let that pretty head of yours rest."

You do as he says, closing your eyes again. You scoot closer to him, and he wraps an arm around your waist. He kisses you gently on the top of your head, and you can't help but smile.

"Goodnight, Davey," you murmur.

"Goodnight, ladybug," he responds.

An unpleasant beeping wakes you in the morning. It takes a moment for your sleep-addled brain to make sense of everything. You notice you're warm, incredibly warm. You realise it's because Dave's chest is against your back, his arms secure around your body.

You feel as if you could be a puddle right now. It's all so perfect, except for that beeping. It's Dave's alarm. Of course. You forgot it was still a school day.

Dave shifts behind you, and his warmth leaves you as he rolls away. You miss it immediately but aren't awake enough to do anything about it. There's the sound of fumbling before the beeping finally stops. Not a moment sooner, Dave returns, wrapping his arms around you again and holding you tighter than before.

He nuzzles his face against your neck, letting out a deep breath that tickles your skin. It's almost enchanting how quickly sleep calls for you again. Dave doesn't say a word, but it's clear you both agree that school can wait five more minutes.

➸

[darlingdream1010]

Danny’s worst enemy: Gotham Academy pizza club.

It’s so pathetic.

Oh god, I’m so pathetic.

“Yes, yes you are,” Dani assured him, patting his arm helpfully.

Danny groaned and pushed her hand away, reaching for another slice of pizza. “White pie, meat pie, every flavor’s been ruined for me.” He folded the slice and brought it closer to his face, preparing himself to take another disgusting bite.

“Is it really that bad?” Dani, his devil spawn relative who had never worked a day in her life, posed innocently. “You just clean student’s shit and barf up, right? Scrub ‘fuck you’ off the bathroom walls?”

Danny stared into the greasy rivulets running down the pizza tunnel he’d created, watching them creep toward him. “It’s that, and so much worse.”

“Flashback?”

Danny nodded sullenly. “Prepare yourself.”

-

It was the second week at Danny’s terrible pick of a college job, and he’d already had a taste of what was to come. But, he liked the kids and sympathized with their troubled lives. The freshman were his favorite, not innocent but not jaded enough to be wary of him

One in particular bugged him quite often.

“Mr. Danny! You’ll never believe it!” The infamous “Maps” exclaimed, shaking his arm.

Though Danny appreciated her having so much enthusiasm when his job was so boring, the timing wasn’t the best.

“Hi, Maps. You-uh, might want to stop that.”s

The girl looked over and finally saw the disgusting contents of the toilet sloshing dangerously as she moved his arm. She took many steps back, waving a hand over her nose.

“You’re not gonna believe what I saw Danny,” Maps said, suddenly a little less energetic than before.

“Yeah?”

“It was the middle of the night—“

Maps didn’t seem to realize she was saying she’d been up past curfew—

“—when I saw this MASSIVE ghost decked out in knight armor. It was like-DWOOM-and then it pulled out its sword like-SHWING-and then I ran for my life,” Maps ended cheerily, as if she hadn’t just reenacted an extremely hazardous encounter.

Danny fumbled his plunger, but he pretended to not react. “That’s…It’s good to see you’re safe,” he settled on.

“Oh come on, Mr. Danny. You’re the one I tell this stuff because you’re the only one who doesn’t get all worried and pitiful. Don’t worry too much about it anyway, the ghost was gone when I looked back.”

“Uh-huh,” Danny swallowed. Not seeing the ghost didn’t seem like firm evidence that it was gone.

“We—somebody will surely take care of it, I don’t want you to worry one bit Mister Janitor!” Then, in giddy fashion, Maps skipped right out of the bathroom.

Danny—

-

“Wait a second,” Dani interrupted.

“What now?” Danny was sick of being interrupted during his tragic tale of massive inconvenience.

“The ghost was you?” Dani asked skeptically.

“What? No! I don’t terrorize children.”

“Didn’t you say this school was haunted? Aren’t you, like, helping secretly?”

“No,” Danny sputtered.

Dani raised an eyebrow.

“Robin literally goes to that school, he handles anything that gets out of control.”

“And you aren’t helping him at all?”

“…”

“Danny…don’t lie to me, I’ll know if you lie to me.”

“Look, it’s just a few caution: cleaning in process, signs to keep people from seeing his secret identity, ok?”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Hero complex.”

“It’s a fucking sign, Dani. Now don’t interrupt me again, I’m sulking.”

-

Obviously, Danny went to check out the place Maps had described. There were a good deal of things plaguing the academy that were similar, but not quite ghosts. However, Danny still wanted to check it out because of his responsibility towards wayward ghosts.

It was the perfect night, too, as it was the time of week where he was supposed to clean this wing. Armed with his mop and good ol’ signs to keep the unwanted out, Danny crept down the halls.

At first, there was a whole ton of nothing but dusty floors to clean. It was only when he passed a decorative squash that things got strange.

One decorative squash is tasteful for a dark academia style.

Three decorative squashes? Danny was starting to mop his way down the hallway faster.

Ten decorative squashes and a pile of ecto-contaminated soil next to a convenient window for sunlight?

Danny set his mop aside and stalked forward grumpily. “If it’s Overgrowth, I swear to god I’ll—“

“Who’s there?!” A boyish voice called out.

Ah, Robin.

Clearly Danny wasn’t the only one who’d thought tonight was an ideal night for ghost hunting. Even more, he suspected his habit of guarding Robin with precarious sign placement had not helped in the current situation.

Oh well, at he could just go intangible. It was breaking his personal no-ghost-powers on school grounds rule, but alas.

Robin did step around the corner, but six extra pairs of footsteps he hadn't anticipated. And one was a very familiar face.

It was Maps-

-

"IT WAS MAPS!"

"Dani."

"Boom. Guessed it. It was Maps, wasn't it?"

"It was, but you know a guess only counts if you say it before I reveal, right?"

"Yeah. And I did."

"You...whatever, just stop interrupting."

-

-and her crew of mostly friends, all from the 'Pizza Club.' Danny cursed. This little ragtag crew not only fell into trouble often, they also sought it out actively, the rash teenagers. Not like Danny could speak, he supposed.

"Look there! That pile of squash!" Maps made a break for the soil. Danny lunged to stop her, but Robin snatched her by the collar.

“Don’t run straight into danger,” he hissed.

Yes, please don’t.

The girl with silver hair stepped forward. “Don’t worry, I think I’ve got this.” She waved her hand forcefully, eyes closed in concentration.

Danny’s eyes blew to saucers as the pile of pumpkins caught on fire. His hands went up to grip his hair. Fudge…

“WHO HATH DARE RAZE MY PATCH?!” A booming voice yelled into the empty hallway.

Emerging from the flames was indeed a massive, armored ghost like Maps had claimed. Only, it looked a little different from how she’d described. It looked like…

“Frightknight,” Danny groaned.

“Um, we didn’t mean to?” A boy supplied from the back of the group.

“LIES! I WATCHED YOU!”

“Well, um, sorry.”

“SORRY WILL NOT CUT IT!” Frightknight stepped forward, armored hands shaking with rage. “That was my offering, my offering for—kegh—heghck“

Danny lunged forward and gripped the back of his neck, trapping the words in his throat.

Robin took that opportunity to throw a batarang at Frightknight, lodging it in the neck joint of his armor. He whipped around, shooing the others backward.

“It may look like I landed a lethal hit, but this is an odd creature, and it’s unlikely it will die from one—“

“Look! It’s dead!” Maps interrupted, making Robin turn around to face the ghost…which was, in fact, dead.

Danny uncapped his thermos and sucked the ghost into it, sparing a guilty glance at Robin. Sorry, but thanks for the easy opportunity. Alas, the boy couldn’t see his apologetic look anyway.

He’d have to find some way to make it up to his citizen identity.

Maps grinned and faced Robin. “We did it!”

Robin, or should he say Damian, gazed, dumbfounded, at the pile of squash ashes. “I-Yes?”

Danny smiled and shook his head. He hurried out of the hallway, leaving the youths to themselves. Reminds me of the good ol’ days…

-

“Ancients, you’re so sentimental,” Dani complained, rolling her head back.

“My hero days are over, I think I deserve to be a little sentimental.”

“You say that, but you’re literally telling me about your heroics right now.”

“It’s a tale of inconvenience,” Danny argued.

“You’re twenty, your life can’t be that inconvenient. I do more than you in a day-plus, I have to deal with Red Hood and by association, Bruce,” Dani said.

“I’m not saying it’s bad, it’s just inconvenient that I have to do assignments, then go to school again to clean shit and keep Robin out of sight, and then I have to sit in a damn uncomfortable chair and do memoranda and determinations and all that bullshit—“

“What?” Dani looked up at him, confused.

“You wouldn’t get it,” Danny sighed.

[fee224]

Overlooked!readers future

Rafe cameron x overlooked!reader

Still writing this series… just wrote this

Once you graduated online college, within the month rafe had gained permission from your parents and proposed to you. He had proposed to you over pancakes. He had an elaborate plan created, one that topper and kelce had contributed towards, all of them sat with beers trying to figure out how to propose the right way. But it was two days after he talked to your parents. You were sat on the kitchen island munching on Nutella pancakes. Licking it from around the edges of your mouth. Wearing your pretty pj set. Hair in two messy plaits, dishevelled from sleeping. He cherished these moments of pure adoration and before he knew what he was doing, you had said yes to marrying him.

You married rafe at the country club, your typically dismissive daddy, walking you down the aisle with pride. All of your sisters in matching pale yellow dresses, bridesmaids due to your mothers request, you were honestly grateful since lack of friends. Your husband had many groomsmen, topper as best man, much to kelces dismay. Rafe spent the whole day stealing kisses, holding your hand under tables, slow dancing with you and somehow making you forget everyone else in the room, an impossible task. Calling it a night around half eleven, letting him fuck you to sleep. You have your honeymoon in Turks and Caicos for three weeks since you had nothing to rush back to and rafe needed to spoil you.

At a Halloween Party where you were a lady bug and rafe was a bug catcher with a net, rafe got you pregnant. Not realising till you were wearing a bikini one day, one of your sisters commenting on your bloating. You took the pregnancy test on your own. Rafe finding out instantly when he came home and you held out the test for him, with eyes squeezed shut. Not expecting him to spin you around and kiss your face all over.

Soon after, ward offered rafe a job in Charleston. You moved pretty hastily, moving into a beautiful five bedroom. One of the grandest homes in Charleston. Painting the baby room a pastel blue, filling it with a rocking chair, a changing table and a crib. Spending your pregnancy sitting on the veranda with a tired mr Simmons lying on your lap, patches of his fur turning grey, and his breaths becoming heavier.

Murphy was born at a hefty seven pounds and nine ounces. The pair of you smitten as you cooed. Rose and ward had travelled down for the birth. Murphy is a mini rafe. As a Child, you compare baby photos giggling at the alikeness but as he grew older, he quite literally morphed into rafe. As a Child he would go everywhere in basketball shorts and no shirt, up until he was fifteen and rafe started bringing him into his work, he became more manly. He acts like rafe too. He loves golf and polos. He’s a little more well rounded since he had a different upbringing. He has a red head, long term girlfriend who is feisty and part of the family. He’s close to both his parents, goes shopping with his mom and drives her around the town. He goes with rafe golfing, on trips around America watching games.

Mr Simmons died three days after Murphy was born. You were feeding Murphy when he climbed onto the sofa, laid his head on your lap and with a sigh, went to sleep. It wasn’t strange for mr Simmons to take naps in his final weeks but something about the way he looked at you, a goodbye. Rafe dug the hole at the end of the garden. You cradled Murphy in your arms as he carried the big retriever easily, from the house to his grave. You cried quietly, desperate not to wake the baby up. You kissed your hand, stroking him one last final time and watched as rafe covered him with soil.

Josephine was born six years later. She’s on the more chubby side and the sweetest girl. She giggles at anything anyone says, even when the jokes not funny. She’s insecure from bullying at school, which rafe has had multiple meetings with her headmaster about. She’s the biggest daddy’s girl but her mamas best friend. Every week her and overlooked!reader are at the cinema, at a cafe for hot chocolates, baking, sunbathing at the country club, going for drives or at the mall. She’s close with her older brother but he messes with her, screwing up her hair or making fun of her, but it’s only okay when he does it !! She’s geeky and naive. She’s never had a crush, she knows a lot of random facts, she hates going into changing rooms and being able to see her belly. she slept in her mom and dads bed until she was fourteen which is the reason why she’s the youngest sibling (and why she’ll always be the biggest baby).

The kids childhood was filled with love and laughter. Murphy spent most of his childhood running around the neighbourhood with his little friends, getting driven around to sport to sport. He’s loud and looks up to his daddy. Josephine’s childhood was spent on rafes lap. Not as brave as her older brother but it wasn’t exactly like her parents pushed her out of her comfort zone. In their eyes she was perfect, she knew manners, she was kind and sweet, so what if she wasn’t funny or brave. Rafe and overlooked!Reader have to be more involved in Josies life, because of bullying and overall insecurities.

their days are spent cheering Murphy on from the sidelines at all of his games. Going on holidays atleast twice a year with the kids, and a few trips the pair of you, two trips back to the obx for Christmas and midsummers, all of Sarah and John bs kids bringing Murphy and Josie around the island on a golf buggy, introducing them to all their friends. Having family bbqs where Murphy tries to help rafe. Rafe is definitely one of the coach’s of Murphys soccer team. Overlooked!reader spends ages doing josies hair for school.

Rafe is still just as in-love and protective over overlooked!reader. You get flowers every week and endless compliments. He has more of a dad bod now but kinda got hotter. You make his sandwich for work everyday and Murphy is used to coming home from parties and finding you two asleep snuggled on the couch while Josie eats ice cream, enamoured in a Disney movie on the recliner couch. When rafes on work trips, you miss his bad but you and Josie have a bigger bed without the human radiator !! Their home is full of photos and magnets from all over the world, all the memorabilia she wished her parents kept when she was a child.

You stopped talking to most of the Wilson’s after her mother told Josie she needed to loose the “chub”, rafe had never been so angry, since Josie was bawling her eyes out. You didn’t hesitate to follow rafe out of your childhood home, not returning since. But you’re still close with Sarah and wheezie. Making friends with your next door neighbour in Charleston, Sally. She has a sixty five year old husband and three boys, all of which are friends with your Murphy. She has a boob job and a genuine heart, shes the perfect friend.

Overlooked!reader couldn’t be happier than rafe makes her !!

- fee xxx

[aradassbadass]

I just loveeee duke lord he’s so fine 😭 Could you do one of him breaking his celibacy for you bc yall are dating and he’s in loveeee

yes of course *duke voice*

you couldnt help but smile as you watched duke and davo argue as he tried to get him to leave.

“nigga you get a lady and act like a nigga like me aint ya day one boy ill tell ya.” davo said standing hands on his hips.

“nigga shut yo punk ass up.” duke said opening the door.

“oh so you kicking me out, nigga you aint worth a damn” the darker man said shaking his head as he walked out of the door.

“you know you aint have to do him like that now.” you said a small smile on your face as the handsome chocolate man walked towards you.

“yes like hell i did.” he laughs standing mere inches in front of you reaching a large hand out grabbing your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss.

“i guess.” you mumble between kisses.

“ i need to shower though love bug.” you say as he finally pulls aways.

“you mean we need to shower.” he corrects as you hop down from the stool and walk towards the bedroom.

“oh you gone get in with me mr dennis?” you tease going through the bedroom.

“yes lawd.” he says hot on your heels.

you giggle as he closes the bathroom door behind him hurriedly pulling off his shirt.

“you better not pee on me.” you say turning on the shower, voice serious before bursting out into laughter.

“man what the fuck dont be weird. im a grown ass man fuck i look like pissing in the shower.” he says.

“oh shut up.” you say taking your top and bra off all at once.

a smile finds your lips as you see duke standing there staring.

“you like what you see?” you say walking up to him pressing your naked body against his. instinctively his lips goes between his lips as he nods wrapping his arms around you.

“im knowing.” you giggle pulling away and stepping into the shower letting the warm water cascade down you body and just when you thought the feeling couldn’t get any better you feel dukes large body press up against yours.

“let me wash you baby, you can relax.” he says grabbing the body wash. you are happy to take him up on his offer and you stand there as he lathers the soap between his hands and then onto your body.

he starts with your back, massaging your shoulders then going to your waist.

you moan at the feeling letting your muscles relax and leaning back into his body.

“thats it love let, me take take care of you.” his murmurs softly in your ear.

you close your eyes as his hands wrap around your waist and begins to lather up your stomach. its intimacy like this that kept your hormones at bay.

you went into this relationship knowing that duke was celibate and that wasnt a problem with you seeing as you didnt have a particularly high drive anyways. well then you didnt but now was totally different, all it took from him was a look a slight grab even some words he spoke sent shockwaves straight to your core.

his hands grazing your nipples bought you back to reality.

“fuck” you mumbles as he began to massage your breast.

the motion wasnt new to you as he always did it but something about it was different, it felt more sensual than usual, and then you noticed the feeling on your lower back.

your eyes shot open and you tried your best not to tense up but its like he sense it as his hands stopped the motion.

“im sorry baby, got a mind of his own.” he says a light chuckle.

“oh no, dont be sorry love its ok.” you soothe “glad to know im not the only one feeling needy.” you say the last part slipping out of your mouth before you realized it.

he’s quiet for a moment “baby i always feel it but now i need it.”

his words catch you by surprise, “ you need it?” you say turning around to finally face him, hoping for clarification.

“i love you and im ready to give you all of me.” he says a certain tone of seriousness in his voice.

“all of you?” you repeat.

“all of me.”

his words set you on fire and you slammed your lips into his. you moan into his mouth as he wraps around you and pushed your back against the cold tile of the shower, his hips rutting against you.

a moan escaped your lips as his fingers went down and began to rub between your folds, your wetness turning them slick in seconds.

“ you wet as fuck for me baby, you been wanting this huh.” he quizzes lips momentarily pulling away from yours.

“yes, fuck ive wanted this for so long.” you mewl your hand now the one in motion. you wrapped your hand around his length, the sheer girth sending what felt like electricity to your core. he began to rock his hips into you letting a slew of deep groans slip past his and your lips.

“fuck.” he says speed increasing and his kisses becoming progressively more sloppy. you begin to move your hands with his strokes. you can feel him twitch before he abruptly stops.

you yelped as he wordlessly turned you around and now your breast are what is rubbing against the cool wall.

you feel his leaking tip rub between your ass before you feel him squat a little and then he is sliding into your aching entrance.

“ah.” you moan as he stretches and fills you to the brim.

“fuckkk.” he groans halting inside of you. “this pussy too tight baby.”

youre too drunk on lust to respond you just let out a mewl as he begins to slowly thrust into you. you can feel every vein on his dick as he almost entirely pulls out of you and then slowly pushes back in.

duke bites his lips as he plunges back into the wetness of your pussy. he wanted to go slow and savor every second and inch of this but he knew he wouldnt last a minute if he kept that pace up, so he started to slam into you wrapping his hand around your chin and pulling it back causing you to arch deeper.

you cry out in ecstasy at the feeling, all the months of yearning and craving him- this was making you feel more connected than ever with him.

your own hands goes down and rubs your swollen clit and within seconds your gushing all over his length.

“fu-“ he moans pulling out of you and you feel his warm seed splash on you back.

your at a high you never felt before and all you can do is smile before his baritone voice interrupts you, “and no that wasnt no piss.”

you cant help but burst out laughing and hope that this was the idiot you got to spend the rest of your life with.

[castielsprostate]

uhm anyway this is my official script outline proposal for venom vs spiderfriend / spiderman 4 / venom 4 !

cockroach!venom is travelling to new york all by himself (the the barman is there too because it's just really funny) while we follow eddie having thee worst day he's ever had. he stubs his toe getting out of bed in the morning, his coffee order is wrong and spills on his shirt, he drops his laptop on the concrete, he loses every lead he had on an investigation, a bird shits on his shoulder, it starts to rain and he doesn't have an umbrella, he gets hit by a street puddle a cab drives through, a fling he's "trying" breaks everything off over text message (gender ambiguous), and then when he's crossing the street he gets fucking BODIED by a truck. he gets rushed to the hospital, barely alive, major trauma, broken bones, brain bleed, cardiac arrest, and before he goes he says, "see you soon, buddy," whilst clutching his lady liberty keychain in his hands

cut to spiderman, doing spideythings on earth 616, swinging through the city of new york,

meanwhile, cock!venom is vroaching it up on the other side of the city, going from alley to alley, dodging cars and pedestrians, barely evading death, looking into windows searching for something, making tiny, whiny little alien sounds. he finds a tasty little treat (rat brains) in between and as he's about to munch spiderman's ass squashes him from falling through a marvel sparkles universe hole. venom attaches himself to spiderman and they are an absolute hate at first sight. by GOD does venom hate peter and does peter try to get rid of venom any and all opportunities! "YOU" "what me?" "YOU ARE THE RED BLUE MAN FROM TV" "well... yeah? i'm spiderman? can you get out of my body please??" venom does not, in fact, get out of his body, but they fight some alley bad guys, one calls spiderman an "uptight fruity" and venom goes ballistic. they fight together, badly, because neither of them is strong enough to control the other and then they fight each other before realising it's pointless. venom ends saying "don't let guys like that get you down, bug, sing your own song, dance to your own beat, it's what we do" to peter when they're done fighting and peter just goes ???

eddie is still dying in the hospital, medically induced coma, anne arrives with dan, they mourn him, getting told there's no chance of survival anymore. they're keeping him alive for mrs chen to say her goodbyes, and unhooking his life support in two days. capcut dream montage where he's raising a family together with venom, eddie says, "this is a life i like better,". that's normal behaviour

spideyvenom is being followed by some woodchippers, venom explains NOTHING to the spider man because they doesn't like the spider man. they have a day where they try to find out whats going on, barely working together, but good enough to find out some information. they have an alleycat fight and venom reveals that he's looking for someone "special to us" after coming all the way from nevada, and peter goes "ah.. mr venom, she must be important to you for you to travel all this way, huh?" "yes, insect... he is important to us" and spiderman goes O.O and then tries to help but no one's heard of an "eddie brock". the city, in the meantime, becomes jittery and weird, and something big is coming. something big and wrong. they go on a venom bender and meet the barman in an underground (gay) club in nyc and have a fun (for venom. terrible for spidey and the barman) night out

eddie is dying, slowly, in the hospital, unresponsive to everyone and everything. mrs chen says a tearful goodbye, leaving a bar of chocolate on his bedside table, anne stays with eddie whilst dan goes with mrs chen to get some food. she holds his hand, cries, maybe. she says, through tears,"i wish he could've protected you longer"

spideyvenom are doing what they can to protect people (venom eats a few of them), swinging through the city when more marvel sparkles appear. by god. that's a lot of fucking marvel sparkles. that's. that's too many marvel sparkles. the sky opens up, there really isn't a lot of time left, the something big, something wrong is here.

swinging through new york, spideyman is listing off everything that's going very, very wrong, trying to evacuate as many people, when venom spots eddie, barely, through a top floor hospital window. in reality he actually spots anne, throwing everything on a hail mary, and decides to crash them into the hospital window. anne ducks to protect eddie, spiderman takes off his mask in anger, "mr venom what the hell??? we HAVE to go, NOW,". venom rejects himself from spiderman, launching him out of the window, and jumping onto eddie, trying to be absorbed, "eddie?... eddie... eddie.. eddie. eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie!! eddie!!! eddie!!!! eddie!!!!! eddie!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!!!!! EDDIE!!!!!!!!!!!!,"

venom goes to anne, looking at eddie, "why isn't our other waking up? what is wrong with our eddie, anne?". "venom, i'm so sorry."

so venom, without thinking, without any hold back, makes anne perform cpr, just enough to flow into eddie. just. barely. enough. and he brings eddie back again, slamming him back into life, waking up another codex in the process, but he doesn't care. because their eddie is back, and eddie is waking up.

eddie says, whilst reaching up to his chest, "hey buddy, i just had the-," "weirdest dream, eddie,"

silence, for a moment, the camera is only focused on them sitting in eddie's glass covered hospital bed before,

"am i dead? are we dead? is this it?" "no, eddie, we are alive," and eddie presses their foreheads together, gently, with no urgency. just relief. eddie gripping the back of venom's goop, entangling his fingers, wanting to feel venom engulf him again. the moment is cut short by spiderman jumping through ANOTHER window "what in the hell are you doing mr. venom??? we have to clear the city, now, we don't have any time for this"

freaked out, a little soggy, eddie says, "venom, that's th-the-the peter guy from tv from the the purple man universe" "yes eddie, we do not like him," "why is the peter guy from tv in here, why does he know who we are,"

spiderman goes ???, eddie braces himself for a fight, gripping venom tighter, he isn't going to lose him again so soon, "listen sweetie, we aren't going anywhere," whilst gesturing to him and venom, "what is going on here?"

something rumbles the ground, anne yelps, spiderman is up and out another window, "no time, gotta swing, we need to evacuate the city,"

eddie is up, getting anne to safety, she says "don't let him go, venom," before venom is filling him in on everything that happened and being shot into battle in his hospital gown. they full body, venom seeps into every part of eddie, impossibly further than any time before, and eddie lets him in

"we have a new tattoo, eddie?" "got it a while back, it's the," "codex?" "codex,"

they save a few people on their way down, venom eats a few bad guys, "you got a new tattoo, too, huh bud?" "it looks cool on us" they find spiderman and, despite their mutual dislike, team up and [epic battle here]. cool co-ops with veddie launching spiderman, spiderman webbing bad guys like a little burrito for venom to eat, eddie does a few kickflips and gets launched by spiderman to get some up-top threats. and the threat isn't clear, it's not knull, it's not more xenophages, it's something neither of them has seen before, and it just keeps coming... until the sky clears up in an instant. like it was snapped away, and spiderman is marvel sparkled back before any of them know what's happening, "mr venom??" "insect! see you never"

half of the city is destroyed (in true marvel hero style), venom and eddie have to get out of there quickly before anyone gets a too good look.

the final scene of venom and eddie is them sitting in central park, debris magically cleaned up, venom safely tucked in eddie's shirt saying some venom-y nonsense and alien purring, two new chickens who they named roan and gaga pecking away by their feet, looking off into the sunset. eddie whispers, "but i like any life with us best," and venom intertwines their hands

spiderman gets marvelsparkled back into the mcu, having the wildest story to tell, and having so so so many questions, with having none answered because it's Doom's Day.