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#keep talkin miles
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On March 15th, 2024 at 9pm EST, Wayneradiotv started streaming, "A Difficult Game About Climbing." Early in the stream, Wayne mentions Maroon 5 and Justin Timberlake (JT), incorrectly remembering whether JT was apart of Maroon 5 or not.
Justin Timberlake was never apart of Maroon 5.
Wayne learns this fact through a Justin Timberlake fandom wiki page on Maroon 5, he edited the page to add "Justin Timberlake was in it at some point."
This edit caused over 740 edits to be made to the Maroon 5 page, as well as several edits to other pages on the JT Wiki. The edits were mentions of the stream, and devolved into: An Anonymous user (or users) claiming that Justin Timberlake is their dad, Young Mokey overtaking the page (Young Sheldon and The Big Bang Theory make appearances too), as well as... a gorilla.
Over the course of the 7 hour stream, I took screen shots of all of the changes that I could catch (again, over 700 of them and I only caught a large amount). The Anti-Vandalism Warriors fought valiantly until the end, eventually coming to a truce with the Young Mokey Brigade. One of the A-V Warriors is @rotgutinc, I salute your efforts, as they were not in vain.
As of March 16th, 2024, 9:01 AM UTC (4:01 AM EST), the Maroon 5 page is protected, and all pages were reverted to their original state. Picture edited to hide all the IP addresses. Highlighted in yellow are the pages affected (and subsequently changed back). Pages were deleted and highlighted in blue is the Protection Log. Here is a link of all the screenshots I took that night.
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Tl;Dr: Wayne suffered a Sisyphean curse while a Fandom Wiki for Justin Timberlake was ravaged in the wake of his misremembering JT as a member of Maroon 5.
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cyberjam · 9 months
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E!42 MILES DATING A SHY!SOFT READER . . . ☆
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warnings - black fem!reader in mind but you can imagine it however you'd like, miles having a soft spot for you, pink coquette vibes from reader, profanity, slightly suggestive.
word count - 2.2k | lowercase intended.
main masterlist | proof read?: kinda😭
song rec for fic?: yo love - from "queen and slim: the soundtrack - vince staples, 6lack, mereba <3
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ᘏ⑅ᘏ
. . HOW YOU FIRST MET . .
ఇ . . . you two were assigned as partners for a science project that would play a big part in your final grade. you knew of each other but never fully interacted until now.
ఇ . . . miles knew you as quiet, only speaking when spoken to. you were an approachable person with a warm smile. you carried yourself well, and treated others kindly, even if they were undeserving. he was entranced by you to say the least. with how things were currently going in new york, he was surprised that the city hadn't dimmed your light. miles wanted to know more about you and this project gave him the perfect opportunity to do so.
ఇ . . . you knew of miles as well. he had the reputation of being an unapproachable person. easily intimidating others without trying, and keeping his circle of people small. you took a small interest in him as well. you'd catch yourself glancing at him every now and then, trying to break down his character. he didn't seem as mean as everyone claimed but now was finally your chance to see for yourself.
ఇ . . . that project was only the beginning of your and miles' relationship.
ᘏ⑅ᘏ
. . CRUSHING STAGE . .
ఇ . . . miles protectiveness increases the more your relationship grows. he'll cut into situations and defend you before you can fully form a thought. he never hesitates to step in-front of you as a human-shield and tell someone off with a simple phrase.
"ay, watch yo mouth." | "huh? repeat yo'self." | "i know you not talkin'-"
ఇ . . . he starts eating lunch with you. his friends get on him for being a simp but he brushes it off every-time. he enjoys the convos you two have during lunch and would rather sit next to you than a rowdy group of boys who use the lunch food as science experiments.
ఇ . . . he seeks you out. during school, after school, on his nightly patrols, etc. without even fully knowing it himself, miles is always looking for you no matter where he is. he just naturally gravitates towards you. you bring something to miles life that he hasn't had in a long time. peace.
ఇ . . . let's you mess with his hair. when he's over your place he'll let you put your cute baby pink hair clips in his braids and even tie in some hair bo-bo's at the end of them. but only if you take them out as soon as you're done and don't take any pictures. (you still take pictures)
ఇ . . . let's you draw on him. you can't remember when it exactly started but it's became a routine for you to doodle and write on his hands in every class you two share. he'll return the favor, if you ask nicely. he copies whatever drawing you did on his hand to yours so you'd be matching. (he dreams of getting matching tattoos with you.) <3
ఇ . . . scares classmates away. whether it be a glare from across the room or an arm slung around your shoulders, miles is always scaring your classmates away. even if they show the smallest romantic interest in you.
ఇ . . . maintains eye contact. he's always looking for your eyes and trying to remain in contact with them when you talk. he just loves staring into your pretty doe eyes while you ramble about something you like.
ఇ . . . nicknames. miles doesn't want to scare you off by being too forward, so he'll limit his nicknames. the ones he does call you while crushing on you are ma and princesa.
ఇ . . . passes notes in class. he's a bit of a "model student" in class (not talking back, not interrupting or disrespecting classmates, turning in his work early on time. he just wants to be left alone lmao) but he's more than willing to pass notes with you throughout the entire period. you'll catch him up on the newest gossip and he'd update you on the stuff him and his homeboys get into.
ఇ . . . he'll help you study. if you don't know spanish or you're just a struggling student, he'll teach you everything you're having a hard time with at a comfortable pace. he'll quiz you every once in awhile just to make sure you fully understand and don't feel behind in anything. if you've shown a significant amount of improvement he'll treat you by taking you out for your choice of dessert. (it's really just an excuse to take you out on a date without using the word date)
ఇ . . . there's an unspoken rule that you are his. classmates know, your friends know, his homeboys know, hell, even the teachers know. you're the only person miles gives the time of day. you're the only one who gets to walk around with his arm on your shoulders, have his undivided attention, as well as be the reason for his smile. you are his and he is yours.
ᘏ⑅ᘏ
. . DATING STAGE . .
ఇ . . . late night facetime calls. you two are truly never apart. when you're not together physically you're on facetime with each other. he loves when you call him and showcase the cute things you bought for yourself using his card. he also just loves the comfort those calls bring him. seeing you engulfed in a warm blanket fast asleep while he's doing his own thing just makes him feel content. you're able to be there for each other without physically being there and that's enough for him to wait patiently until he's able to hold you again.
ఇ . . . clingy as hell. although, he'll never voice out his wants for your touch he will initiate it. miles will be the one to commence 80% of affection. partly because you're shy and mainly because he can't keep his hands off of you. miles is always touching you in some way. whether it be an arm around your shoulder, a hand resting on your thigh, or a hand rubbing your ass while you're cuddling. he can't resist kissing you either. his lips always finding any available part of your skin to kiss when he feels like it.
ఇ . . . compliments. every chance he gets he'll remind you how good you look. always hyping you up and telling you how beautiful you are. whenever you get overwhelmed by the flow of affectionate words that smoothly flow out of his mouth, you'll cover your face with your hands and turn away from him. it only gives him more fuel in the long run because he loves to see his girl get all shy and cute for him. sometimes he doesn't even use his words. a simple look up and down while licking his lips will leave you weak in the knees.
"that's all mine right there."
ఇ . . . genuinely hates arguing with you. he hates when you're upset with him. there are plenty of times where miles has provoked you to the point you've gotten upset with him and that's usually when he knows he's gone too far. you're his girl, his everything. he can't have you sulking because of him. although, miles does have a bit of a short-temper, he remains calm throughout these situations. he lets you both voice your sides and he won't let the situation go until you come to an agreement. he tends to avoid arguments at all costs. usually murmuring a "you got it, ma." before it turns into something more. after settling long disagreements, he'll engulf you in a hug and give you a gentle kiss on your forehead.
"love you. don't want my girl goin to bed mad at me."
ఇ . . . nicknames! his nicknames will consist of mi vida, mi reina, ma, mami, baby, etc. any term of endearment you can think of he's most-likely called you. usually consisting of 'my/mine'. he's very possessive. your contact name in his phone is 'mi corazon 💘' and you're the only one with an emoji next to your name.
ఇ . . . spoils you. you want it? you got it. although, miles isn't incredibly wealthy, he does have money. he uses it to take care of you and his mom, providing help for the both of you. he helps rio with actual necessities, while with you he provides you with gifts. ranging from shoes, eyelashes, lace fronts, plushies, clothes, or electronics. the most expensive gift he's gotten for you is an ipad and apple pencil. it was for your birthday and he knew he had to get it for you after hearing you fangirl about it nonstop.
ఇ . . . lets you do his hair. he usually only lets rio do his hair, he's a major mama's boy. so, when you were granted the privilege to do his hair you felt honored. he also just loves when you take his braids out and give him scalp massages. he's fallen asleep on occasion because of how gentle and soothing your hands are. he's also tender-headed as hell so, please be careful or you'll get a earful of him complaining.
"damn, ma. why you gotta pull so tight?"
ఇ . . . buys matching sets. he buys you both matching shoes, clothes, and jewelry. he likes the simplicity of being able to match with you and show everyone you're his without voicing it. you two are the couple that matches on christmas. matching christmas tree pants, and santa hats...rio thinks it's adorable. for your 5 month anniversary you were gifted a gold necklace with his name written in cursive and once he helped you put it on he revealed the necklace that was under his shirt that had your name in gold written in cursive. only time you two take it off is when you're in the shower/pool. he'll take it off during prowler business as well, he doesn't want to disclose any of his personal business at work, it's very dangerous for the both of you.
ఇ . . . cant sleep without you. once miles gets a taste of what life is like keeping you close and holding you to sleep, it's hard for him to go without it. he loves cuddling with you and if there were any instance where you two wouldn't be together he would toss and turn all night and look at the ceiling until his body physically shut down itself. it's not the healthiest way to go by so when he starts to show up to school with deeper eye bags than usual, you decide to give him a plushie of his own. he'll buy the plushie little clothes and change them every now and then. he names it after you, and he even bought the exact perfume you wear and sprays it on the stuffed animal before going to bed and cuddling it. he's embarrassed to admit it, so he'll never tell you how much he pampers it. (you don't need him to tho, you've caught him kissing the top of the stuffed animals head before cradling it in his arms and murmuring 'goodnight, mi vida.')
ఇ . . . will go to the barbie movie with you. he'll thrown on a pink hoodie, black jeans, and pair it with some jordan's while you're decked out from head to toe in pink. he's gonna cry at one point during the movie and you have to pretend you didn't see. when you ask him if he liked it he'll shrug his shoulders while sniffling. he def gave his mom a big hug when he got back home. :')
"yeah, yeah...it was alright, i guess."
ఇ . . . talks about you to his mom. mile's didn't speak much of you when he had a crush on you, but he really didn't have to. his mom knew there was something or more so someone occupying his mind whenever he'd come back from school with a slight dazed expression and the tiniest smile.
ఇ . . . graffiti's your initials together. whenever he's bored and has a little extra time on his hands he'll graffiti his and yours initials together. sometimes replacing your last initial with an 'M' for Morales..
ఇ . . . treats your stuffed animals like they're your children. he scolds you if he catches one of them on the floor, he'll name them future child names he has in mind because he def wants to get married and start a family w/ you, he gives them hugs and buys cute little tutu's for them. lowkey will throw a fit if he finds out you gave some of them away.
ఇ . . . buys/sends things that reminds him of you. he'll buy you your fave bag of chips if he sees it in the store, he'll pick up a keychain with your name on it and attach it to his bookbag, he'll send you memes or recommend a tv show because the character reminded him of you. you're really on his mind 25/8.
ఇ . . . bakes with you. he loves baking with you. you two will bake the hell out of some chocolate chip cookies or some brownies. nothing that takes too long or a lot of preparation though, he'll get antsy and kinda touchy which leads to burnt products and a ruined cake pan.
ఇ . . . shows you off/brags about you. his friends and close family members know all about you and your achievements. if you play sports he'll cheer you on and brag about your wins, if you're an artist he'll post your artwork, if you have a small clothing brand he'll wear it and tell people to buy from your store if they ask, if you knit/crochet he'll ask you to make him a bucket hat or a mini version of you and him, if you dance he'll stay up all night on the phone while you show him your new choreography. it doesn't matter what you do, miles will continue to support you and brag about any and every achievement you accomplish. big or small.
ఇ . . . miles morales loves his sweet soft significant other.
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currently re-writing my miles morales fic that was 6k words because tumblr decided to randomly delete it 🥲 i'll try to get it out soon! <3
also sorry for inactivity, i've been busy w/ school and work but i'll try to shoot out fics faster when i get the time :) !!
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bombz-n-bluntz · 1 year
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I need to figure out my docs name
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kombuuuu · 10 months
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Can I request Miles 42 bullies you at school and is always bothering you but he gets mad and tries to fight someone else who is bullying you because he’s the only one who can be mean to you😩😩‼️
Deflecting.
Earth42!Miles x Fem!Reader
“I would get your hands off her if I were you, homeboy.”
This one is kiiiinda violent, not by Miles mostly be warned C:
PART TWO !!
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such a cute wife (throw me on an island to live in my delusions)
You were quiet, silent most days. Not stepping out of the very thick circle you’d made for yourself consisting of just you.
And yet, still.
Still, the mere thought of keeping to yourself as a permanent transfer student would make even the most daft of people scoff.
You weren’t anything special, you were void of attention, and happy that way. Acted appropriately and left anger at the door. Had nothing and no one to complain to, so why make problems for yourself?
You’re entire life was just floating along your schooling and waiting patiently for the day you left. Even if you were the rare case of “Got transferred half way through the year because the school saw potential!” girl, you’d just wanted to be left to yourself.
But even the premise of that seemed almost impossible now.
Because ever since you were pushed by some rushing kid straight into Miles Morales, tripping him over with you. Him and his asshole friends had made it their life mission to bother you.
“The cute new girl?”
“Yeah, the one that—,” The first boy glanced at Miles. “,—tripped on.”
“Oooh, shit—, She’s fucked.” The other man whispered back, laughing under his breath. You could feel his taunting stare at the back of your head, and when you checked your peripherals, Miles was sending a sickening glare your way.
You sighed.
The ache in your head was probably the only thing keeping you awake.
The day dragging longer than usual had you right about ready to get home and knock yourself out within a minute of being in your bed. Your hand slowly dragged down your face, taking a deep breath and stuffing your jacket somewhere in your locker. The heat of the school mingling with the temperatures the Summer was providing and then adding on the rain from the prior day? You cursed Brooklyn and its humidity. Reaching to close your locker, you finally fit the jacket in the already cramped space. A little piece of the fabric poked out, and you pushed it in while simultaneously trying to keep everything else in too. Pulling a face before you finally managed to get it shut, and slip your finger out before it can get trapped. You turned the key into the dumb metal and scowled at it before pocketing the key and turning to leave.
Being so engrossed in your feud with the locker, you had failed to realise the very man who’d given you this headache, leering over your frame. Turning straight into his chest and reacting in a pained groan, gripping your forehead in displeasure and glaring up at whomever was standing so close to you.
Which happened to be Miles Morales. Staring down at you with cold, dulled eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?” The simmering anger in your voice was made known, and also promptly ignored. He tilted his head down at you, braids shifting with the movement, his expression barely changing. If only he had a conscience. Then maybe you could read his expression, the emotions on his face —, but in this universe? The thought seemed laughable.
He stepped forward, sending you staggering closer against your locker.
“Back off—,” You’re voice shook a little as you swore. Dropping his eyelids into a glare, he spoke, “You keep talkin’ to me like that, and we gon’ have a problem.”
“You keep creeping up on me like a fuckin’—,”
“Like a what?” Miles’s bored, taunting voice grated against your eardrums.
You let out a shaky breath, chest heaving, and clenched your jaw. Shaking out the annoyance in your bones, you kept your calm.
“Don’t get shy on me now.”
A surge of anger rose through you, before you willed it away.
He was antagonising you.
You tried not to instigate him. If you didn’t encourage it, maybe he’d go away.
“Never mind. Whatever, Why—,”
“Miles, my man.” A different man clapped him on the shoulder, giving you the chance to step back and away from him. The other man was tall and lanky, spindly in the way where he looked out of place for a high school. His blue eyes caught sight of you, smirk contorting the bridge of his nose and baring his teeth. “Fuck you doin’ with this thing?”
“What d’you want.” Miles diverted attention from you quick, his companion not getting the hint.
“Fuck, nevermind man,” The man sent a sleezy smile at you, looking you up and down slowly, a short whistle under his breath.
“Shut the fuck up, James.”
You glared are the taller man, something like bile clawing at your throat. The way he was talking about you was sickening, nothing more than a bothersome rodent.
Miles glanced at you, raising a brow, he wanted to see how long it would take before you’d finally fight back. Through the months you’d been at this school, not once had you actually lost your nerve.
On worse days, like this one, you gave him attitude. Snapping at him the moment he showed up, knowing if you didn’t, he’d take the chance too first. He looked forward to those days, where you would engage him. It sent some sick thrill through him. Watching the way your eyes unfocused, urging yourself not to roll them. How your composure surely chipped but never cracked, fingernails digging prints of a fine line when dug into your palms.
He watched your breathing stutter and counted your breaths with you, he’d basically memorised the pattern.
10 beats in, hold for 8, and 12 beats out.
Though, this was only on a good (bad?) day. Other days you just stood and took it. Letting him say whatever he wanted to you, talk shit right to your face. Spread rumours without repercussions and mess with you just because he had the urge.
And just like always. Through the heat of Summer and the full ache in your head, you managed to do nothing.
Just stand and stare as James acted like you were less to a piece of meat.
Miles scowled, dropping his shoulder and causing the man to fall from leaning on him. “Omf— Hey! What the fuck, dude.”
“Let’s go.”
James scoffed, rolling his eyes but following behind nonetheless.
“Miles, what was that shit about?”
“None of your fucking business, homeboy.”
Their voices faded as they walked away, the white noise of chattering people swallowing the scraping of James’s voice.
You wondered what Miles had really wanted this time, as he hadn’t gotten the chance to say anything with James showing up. You hate to thank him, but god. You might’ve lost your mind.
Four months in and you were losing your mind. Miles hadn’t stopped, neither had his determination. He seemed so eager to piss you off and do nothing but stare coldly as you composed yourself every time.
Just as that thought brimmed in your head, something kicked out in front of you, sending you flat on your stomach. Hands pressed into the hardwood of the gym below. You groaned, knees being knocked straight to the ground, landing with your arms outstretched in front of you. At least it wasn’t your face.
A voice was heard behind you and you froze, unsure what to do at that moment.
“Get up, [Name].”
James.
“Yeah, I’m—“ You shuffled back onto your feet. Standing up cautiously and checking your uniform was in place.
“Shut the fuck up.” He interrupted you, and you turned around slowly to face him. “Ever since I made it clear how little you were fucking worth, that dipshit Miles has been a fuckin’ dog to me.” He spat at you, the anger rising in his voice, he gripped the polo shirt you wore, dragging your limp upper half closer to his.
You shivered at his breath on your face, wanting to gag.
“Sorry.”
“You’re a fucking freak—.” His group of even more childish people were standing behind him like some sort of team work movement.
“Please let go.”
“I’ll fucking gut you. I needed that motherfucker—,” “Woah.” “,—He’s lucky I don’t beat his ass for ditching me.” Seems like attachment issues. “And you too, cunt. I’ll end your fucking life.”
He pulled you ever closer, using his height to intimidate you, six foot four of an angry man standing over you, no thanks.
A whistle was heard from the main room of the Gym, prompting James to let go of you.
“You’re lucky you’re a looker, call it pretty privilege.”
“..”
“Next time I’ll fucking kill you.”
You dropped from where you had been dragged onto your toes, stumbling a little as James’s group snickered when they walked past, bumping your shoulder and wolf whistling.
The lesson ended, and you rushed to get out of there. Making your way to the locker room, and being the first in there, also the first to leave. Changing from your sports uniform and rushing out of the Gym.
You kept looking over your shoulder, Knowing that James wasn’t lying. He probably would kill you, or, objectively worse.
You tripped over your feet before righting yourself again. People around sent curious looks to you which you ignored easily.
Getting to the front of the school, glass double doors shut with a “locked” sign on it, you continued to shoulder forward. Ignoring the shout of the office lady, you pushed against the metal bar and opened the door. You’d already known about the doors being unlocked constantly, having seen many times teachers trying to check no one was watching before slyly slipping out. So when the door opened for you with no trouble, you breathed out quick, and booked it.
You praised yourself for the amount of cardio you could do, the school was three stories for goodness sake, the amount of stairs you needed to climb was insane.
You slid to the side, dodging the occasional pedestrian and making it to the main gate, another shout was heard from the front of the school and you slipped out the gate just as it opened for another teacher, thanking them as you passed.
“Thank you!” You shouted as you ran.
“You’re welcome?— Oh..”
“Kid, Get back here!”
The office lady watched you hit the end of the street and turn, no longer in her sight. She threw her hands in the air and sighed.
“I’m going to get fired.”
“No, Marlene. I’ll cover you.”
“Thanks, John.”
“Why were they running, anyway?”
“Dunno, maybe AP exam.”
Miles watched as James was escorted back inside the building. His scowl etched onto his hideous face. Two of their shared buddies trailed behind him, rolling their eyes at the teachers questioning them.
One of the girls in his group was pressing against him, Miles getting more agitated by the minute. His disinterest in her only seemed to fuel her infatuation more, and it was getting annoying.
The guys at his table were all laughing at some—, probably sexist joke one of them made, the ladies giggling along with them, feeding their toxic lovers the attention they so desperately want. It’s not like Miles thought he was above these people. He just was. They were scum, but the only friends he could keep. Hurt people hurt people, and all that sappy shit. So when you hurt so much, only a small portion of people can stand you, and you them.
But when your name was mentioned, he perked up significantly — his ears fine tuning to the conversation. Completely forgetting about the raven-haired girl pressing against him, and focusing on the words spat by James and his two huevos.
“She’s hot though—,”
“Fuckin’ cares ‘f she is? Woulda beat her ass.”
“[Name]?”
“Yeah, [Name]. Miles got all fuckin’ sissy I thought she was hot, and now we don’t talk.”
“So?”
“So—!? Now I lost my chance with Imogen, she’s all fuckin’ over him cause I’m gone.”
Right, Imogen was her name.
“You want to beat her up over you losing a bitch? Just bag her instead?”
James rolled his eyes, debating it. Miles tensed, his relaxed posture straightened quickly, causing him to almost knock Imogen in the face. Too which she squealed at. An awful noise, really.
He quickly stood, chair falling behind him with a loud clang, and strode out of the hall, Glaring at James the entire time. His two friends laughed James’s sudden hesitance to respond, knowing how piss scared he was of Miles.
James stayed silent until the doors to the cafeteria closed, and the whispers started up. Then told his buddies off in a harsh tone.
No one had ever seen Miles do anything too bad. But with the amount of times he’s shown up to school with a busted nose and smug aura, you could tell—, whatever fight he’d had.
He’d won.
To say that Miles wanted to have the day away from school, probably wasn’t true. With the stuff he’d heard James and his dogs speil, he’d rather you not be alone.
He was—, worried.
But when his Uncle Aaron called him in for something urgent right at 4 AM, telling his Ma it was a work emergency, he couldn’t refuse his Uncle. He fit his mask onto him, faceplates slotting closed. Claws being turned and clicked into place, he flexed his hands, dragging the window of his room open in the early morning, and left with his Momma sound asleep.
The peace and quiet of the day had been rather disturbing. Not having Miles or any of his groupies bother you—. Was off, not unwelcome, but odd.
So when the bell rang for your fourth class, everyone heading from their lunch break back to their assigned classes, it was only by nature you’d be pulled into deserted corner of the school by some unknown figure. A hand placed over your mouth and the other gripping your wrist, pulling you back.
You struggled against the mystery person, a sickeningly familiar voice croaking in your ear.
“Be—,” You kicked your head back, knocking his jaw. “,—Fuckin’ bitch, be quiet.”
Your foot slipped under you, bringing him more leverage to haul you further from the light of the main hall.
You screamed through his hand, tears building behind your eyes when you heard a door unlock.
“Get in.”
“Fuckin—, Open it wider, dipshit.”
“Fuck off.”
James ripped his hand off your mouth before you could realise, pushing the middle of your back so you were forced into a dark, cold classroom.
You fell to your knees, a sense of déjà vu kicking in as you braced yourself with your hands.
Your chest heaved, James slamming the door shut.
“Keith, close those blinds.”
“Fuck are you gon’ do?”
“Beat the fuck outta her.”
Miles stuffed his claws somewhere in his locker, uncaring for secrecy. No one was there now, everyone having gone to class. He’d arrived fairly late, not an unusual occurrence considering his occupation, though. So the office ladies didn’t mind.
He slammed his locker shut, an image of you doing the same with a pout on your lips coming to mind. He had class with you now, sat right next to you, actually.
So he made his way towards the back block of the school, where you’d be.
A hit straight to your cheek sent you flying to the floor again, Mathew letting go of where he was holding you up.
“Dude your grip is shit.”
“Nod off.”
Keith muttered something about “Fucking brit..” from his seat on the prior teachers desk.
You groaned internally, eyes lolling to the closed curtains, the broken glass of the window letting in a sweet breeze. The only reprise from this entire ordeal was a broken window.
There’s some poetry in that, or something.
Blood dripped from your nose and lip. A cut on your cheek now present too. James, the creep, had rings on his thin fingers that, when used, hurt to no end.
You were picked back up by under your arms, closing your eyes in pain and hissing. You opened your eyes in time to see the small glint of metal in James’ pocket, and the wince on Keith’s face before another fist connected to your temple.
You weren’t there.
You had shown up to school, evident by your paper on the lecturers desk, but hadn’t shown up for the period.
And by the empty seats of James, Keith and Mathew. He could only guess what was happening right now.
Miles slammed the door to the class shut, ignoring the panicked yells of his teacher and started towards the darker parts of the school. Where no one used, a chemistry accident setting the safety board director deep in debt and a block of the school unusable.
He flung open his locker when close enough, snatching the prototype version of his claws from the locker. Small, sharp finger coverings that were something close to the claws he had for his Prowler suit. The knuckles were brassed and the wrist latch clasped easily to his skin. He slammed it shut again, not bothering with the lock, and honed in his hearing.
The walls were thin enough.
“Don’t you think this is a little too far?”
“Shut the fuck up, Keith.”
“Fuck you gonna do if she snitches—?”
He gripped James’s wrist, holding the knife away from both you and himself.
“—You gon’ ruin your life for this shit, man?”
“She’s been playing my fuckin’ nerves—, yeah.”
Keith gave him a bewildered look while Mathew stared on in disinterest, still holding you at a position you couldn’t right yourself.
The blood had stained your shirt now, bruising littering your face and body.
James had taken to ditching the knife.
“Fuckin—, Whatever man.”
It clattered to the ground with a large clang, the tiled floors of the science room made the echo ring in your head like the growing migraine.
“Drop ‘er.”
Keith glanced down at you, then backed off. An odd look on his face while he kicked the knife away from James, unintentionally pushing it closer to you.
He walked back to his seat.
Mathew let go, watching as you dropped to the ground and started coughing.
Choking on your own blood before you spat it out.
“You know how long i’ve been wantin’ to fucking do this?”
He raised his leg, tilting your chin up with his boot, how demeaning.
He swung back and kicked your ribs, sending you into another coughing fit while you fought the urge to throw up, tears streaming the blood dripping down your chin.
“Your family ruined my fucking life.” Another kick to your stomach, you gagged.
“Taking my dad, then my fucking girl too?”
What is this guy on about.
“Your fucking daddy couldn’t just mind his own business. Had to get involved, then you.”
A harder kick to your stomach, you clenched your abs and covered your head.
A sudden shock ran over you, a familiarity that always sat with James clicking in your mind.
James Ohnn, son of Jonathon Ohnn, a man who had a hand in the collapse of a still-in-construction Kaleidoscope that was said to bring revolutionary science to the new world. It’s framing shattered while the workers on it all went with it.
His father was the lead scientist of that Kaleidoscope, and by turn in of your dad, was promptly arrested.
“I didn’t do shit—,”
“Shut your fucking mouth.”
He kicked your ribs again, and you swore you could feel them crack.
“I’ll kill you, you fucking ruined me.”
He swiped the knife again, Keith shouting something you couldn’t hear amongst the ringing in your ears.
You shut your eyes, crowding your head with your arms.
A slam broke through the muffles of your mind. Panicked voices and accusations being thrown around before a thick accent curled around your head.
Miles Morales.
“I’d get your hands off her if I were you, Homeboy.”
Miles approached slowly, checking your face while keeping his eyes on the three men.
“Fuck off, Miles.”
“No.” His head cocked to the side, eyes slanting while he assessed the situation.
“What, you gonna fight us?”
James’s voice was shaking. He’d never seen Miles looks o absolutely pissed before.
“Don’t think I can, asshole?”
“It’s three against one.”
“Realmente piensas—, sabes que, no importa.”
Miles lunged at him, Keith and Mathew shouting in tandem while you struggled to keep your eyes open. The pain working its way past your adrenaline and into your bones.
He grabbed James by the wrist, twisting it back and listening to the sickening crunch of his Lunate bone in curious satisfaction. James screamed, trying to tear his hand away from Miles. Even with his right hand pulling too, he wouldn’t budge. The metal clicked together every time James shifted, and Miles gave an extra squeeze before letting go. The force James was pulling sending him flying back, he stumbled and tripped over your feet, falling back and smashing his head on the tiles.
The other two boys scrambled for the door, running out the hallway and whining like dogs.
James groaned, rolling onto his stomach, Miles deadpanned down at him. You watched through blurry vision as Miles picked his up, sat him against the teachers desk, almost slumped against it. Grabbed his hair by his crown, slowly bringing his head forward, bending him at the waist. Before slamming his head back against the wood with a dull thud. He repeated this sick, prolonged process until James had fallen unconscious. Standing over him, then going to grab the knife laid a bit from you. You looked at him from your position, not unthankful, but still—, he was evidently a contributor.
“Don’t move.”
“Wha— Why? I have to get home.”
Miles scoffed, crouching down next to you, knife in hand. His limp wrists resting on his bent knees.
“You gonna’ go home with a cracked rib and busted face? Nah, Chiquita. Vente conmigo, yo te arreglo.”
He stuffed the pocket knife down the side of his Nikes and took off his claws, putting them in the pocket of his jacket.
He hooked his arm under your knees and upper back, cradling you bridal style before standing to his full height.
You panicked a little— “Wha—, No. Miles, put me down.”
“No.”
“Hh— Whatdyu’ mean ‘No’!?”
You hooked your hands over his shoulders and gripped him as he made his way through the back exit of the school.
“I said, I’m taking you home.”
You groaned in pain, shirt lifted to just under your bra line as Miles assessed the damage.
He had been joking when he said cracked rib, but there was an underlying sense of real possibility. According to him though, nothing had been enough to seriously injure you. Except the disgusting looking bruises littering yourself.
You tried to focus away from the pain. Or Miles in general, he was very distracting, the lingering attraction you had when you met thought to be squished, was bubbling up again.
He had an ice pack pressed to your skin, and if you were a tad less conscious, maybe you would’ve made a joke of how cold his hands already were. The sweltering heat doing nothing to soothe the bruising.
“Keep this here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Watch the attitude.”
You huffed a breath, laugh being painful.
“Yeah, whatever.”
You shifted yourself to alleviate some pain, and took his place holding the pack on your stomach.
He grabbed an anti-septic from the small kit he had for first aid. When he’d pulled it out earlier, you’d questioned it.
“You get injured women on your room often, Miles?”
“Nah, Just you. Usually they can take care of ‘emselves.”
You’d giggled at that, not entirely offended but more so amused he’d decided not to take offence at your jab.
His hands reaching for your face brought you back to the present. Flinching back in surprise, you watched him watch for a moment. “Chill, ma. Just gon’ put this on your cuts. Needa’ touch your face for that.”
You cringed, the twisting of your lip having you suck in a harsh breath. “Yeah—, yeah, okay. Thanks.”
“Mhmm.”
The callouses in his hands were made known the moment he touched you, spreading the cream along the cut on your brow, cheekbone and lip.
His hands were a nice contrast compared to the heat of your cheeks, and the gentleness at which he was using.
When Miles touched your face, leaning his body closer to yours, he wanted to savour the feeling. The softness of your flesh against his own, how he could trace the contour of your cheek without it being awkward. His thumb rubbed a small amount of cream onto your lip and he couldn’t look away. The sight of your blood stained skin under his blemished hands had him stuck in the moment. Unable to answer her last question.
“Miles?”
The way her lips formed around his name sent a burning heat throughout his body.
“Yeah—.”
“Is my lip okay? ‘M I gonna need stitches?”
You poured up at him and he shook his head. “No.”
“Mmh— Okay.”
You looked to the side, addressing his room and Miles watched the way your eyelashes brushed along your cheeks when you blinked.
“Okay, just this left. Gonna be a little cold.”
“Thank you.”
“No stress, Chiquita.”
He grabbed some petroleum jelly, spreading it along the cuts on your face and moisturising the wound.
He then placed adhesive bandages along the places necessary, and placed everything back into his first aid.
“Miles.”
“Yeah, Mami?”
You paused at the name, he’d been using those a lot lately.
“How’d you know to find me?”
He looked down, shuffling up next to you against the headboard. You gazed out the window, ignoring the tension that was eating at the both of you. He did too.
“Gut feeling.”
DAMN BABY THIS ONE GOT WILD
tags :3 @gemma42 , @denuparxoume
my gorgeous translator @kissmxcheek !!
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liyawritesss · 9 months
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ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ
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Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader
Type: Fic
Word Count: 1.9k
Synopsis: Miles tells his Uncle Aaron the real reason why he’ll always answer his phone for you.
Warnings: Cursing, no usage of [y/n] or second person perspective, brief mention of potential gun usage, old school gang terms (Aaron refers to a gun as a 'pole') I envisioned a late teen 42!Miles so he’s around 17-18 here, but still keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!
A/N: I know I said that the previous fic would more than likely be my only attempt at 42!Miles but the ugly ass nigga is growing on me so…here yall go i guess
Song Suggestions: “So Into You” (Remix) by Sydney Renae; “LORD FORGIVE ME” by Tobe Nwigwe ft. Fat Nwigwe & Pharrell; “Run Tha Streetz” by Tupac, Storm, Mutah, Michel’le
Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed @pnkweb
Sign Up For My Taglist Here!
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It went without saying that if it didn’t pertain to family or business, Aaron wasn’t quite fond of the use of phones.
He had a real old school view on them; didn’t like how kids these days were always stuck nose deep into the devices. Of course, he came from a generation where a phone’s only use was to contact another person. He never got into the hype of the latest iPhones, nor did he understand the need for five different cameras attached to the device. The only benefit he saw with the rectangular device was that it made communication more prompt and precise (though he’d never admit that he appreciated being able to play any games he wanted, at his disposal, at any time he wished).
So, naturally, when Miles became old enough to engage in his ‘business’, the one rule Aaron posed that didn’t pertain to the ‘game’ was that him being on his phone was an absolute no-go.
“I ain’t got time for you to be distracted by that thing,” he’d said the very first night Aaron trusted the younger to bring him along, “if you gon’ be in, I need you to be all the way in. No half-assin’ this shit, you hear?”
And of course, Miles agreed, no matter how insufferable the first few weeks of patrol were when Aaron literally locked his cellular device in a safe back at the workshop. While it served to pry the connection the fifteen year old had with the device at the time, it was also his way of teaching Miles to not rely on the device for communication, prompting Miles to fortify new avenues of such. Aaron had a genius nephew, after all, and expected nothing less from the person who would soon take up his mantle as The Prowler.
Though, Aaron started to notice a shift in the practice behavior a few months ago, and it made him wonder had his teachings begun to fall short, even after a few years of the settled routine.
He’d notice the flexing of the younger’s arm whenever the faint buzz from the vibration of Miles’ phone sounded, no doubt squeezing the device in his pocket with his hand.
Aaron also was not ignorant to Miles’ dipping off to the side to answer a quick call in hushed tones, and the words used to address the other person on the line made it clear to the older man that it wasn’t Rio calling him, and it piqued Aaron’s curiosity even more.
Though, Aaron could never say anything, since Miles was sure to put his phone on do not disturb before heading out into the night, and the calls always remained under a minute or two, not taking too much time away from their very serious business. He found himself frustrated because Aaron couldn’t be mad at him for being responsible for his phone usage, despite his own feelings towards the usage of such devices. Yet, it irked him all the same when Miles would take a peek at his phone during a moment of down time, or when he’d caught the boy staring at his messages a couple of times during a debriefing session.
“Aye, c’mon man,” Aaron finally grumbles out one night, sucking his teeth at the sight of Miles tapping away on the brightly lit screen close to his face, illuminating his melanated features, “I need you outta that shit, we got work to do.”
“A’ight, a’ight,” says the younger as he finishes off a text, pocketing his phone and brushing past Aaron briskly, “just had to answer my girl real quick. I’m off it.”
“You better be,” Aaron scolds, “we need you at a’hunnid tonight, Miles. No excuses.”
Though Aaron wasn’t about to let Miles’ admission slip under the radar, the current task at hand was much more pressing than the revelation that his nephew was seeing someone. He’d have to play the father figure role after tonight's mission was complete.
It’s when the deepest shade of midnight blue begins to fade into faint purple hues that Aaron is able to bring up the conversation once again. He tries to make it light, but over the years, his smooth talk has become just as rustic as his Prowler skills. “I’m gon’ have to bring the safe out again if I keep seein’ that phone, Miles.”
The echo of the younger sucking his teeth in annoyance doesn’t fly past Aaron’s head. It’s the response he expected from his nephew. He turns around from his work desk to face the younger, leaning against one of the many concrete pillars that keep the building intact.
“I’m serious, boy,” Aaron asserts, “you been on that phone a lil’ too much lately, man. I’on like it.”
Miles scratches the side of his face; he knows he doesn’t have much of a good excuse to use as to why his eyes have been more on his phone as of late. Well, not an excuse Aaron would find plausible anyway.
“A’ight, Unc. I’ll chill.”
It’s not the exact response that Aaron expects, but if Miles says that he’ll watch his phone activity, the older believes him. The younger has no reason to lie to him, anyway.
A beat passes before Aaron starts again, crossing to the middle of the room where the large, red punching bag.
“So, is she a good distraction,” he muses with a knowing look, “or do I gotta be worried that she gon’ take your head out the game?”
The younger pauses for a second, braids dancing along his shoulder. Then, a lopsided grin spreads across his lips as his head tilts to the side, his eyes wandering. Aaron knows that kind of look. It’s the look of a boy high on love, and from the way Miles fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck, Aaron can deduct that it’s that good loving, too. The kind of loving that Rio gave Jefferson, and it stole the late brother’s heart. It warms his heart to see his nephew sport a look that someone his age should.
“She’s good.” Miles says. “She’s…real good, Tio. Too good, probably.”
Aaron hums in response, the sound coming from the depths of his throat as he pauses, taking in a breath. “Do she know?”
It’s a hard question to ask; Aaron doesn’t want to blow his nephew’s high, but it’s a necessary one to ask. For the safety of all parties involved.
Miles’ smile falters in the slightest, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his eyes cast downward.
“She know I do shit on the low. Not…all this, though.” And from the tone in Miles’ voice, he, too, knows that it’s better this way.
The older begins to walk towards the stairs to exit the workshop building, gesturing to Miles to follow, “Good.”
Aaron thinks back to when he first remembers the diversion of behavior started. Although it wasn’t and never became aggressive, it started with Miles casually peeking at his phone every now and then, maybe once or twice throughout the whole night the two were set together. He puts two and two together, his head nodding to the conclusion he’d drawn.
“So it’s her you be textin’?” Aaron asks, descending the stairs.
The younger nods, following in tow, “Just lettin’ her know that I’ma be out and can’t answer the phone, shit like that.”
“And when she do call?”
A light, dry chuckle escapes Miles’ lips at the question. “She just be askin�� me shit.”
“Shit like what?” Aaron muses, twisting the knob to the door leading outside, opening it to reveal purple hues slowly fading into peach in the sky. “What color nails for her to get? Password to the Netflix?”
They get to the car, but the silence that takes place during the short time it takes to approach the older’s vehicle answers his own question before Miles does.
“Yeah, actually,” the younger voice, arms folding atop the car roof, leaning against the sleek black metal as he looks at his uncle, “and the color for her peek-a-boo braids; and if it’s okay if she eats my leftover takeout; and if I can hang up her wall art thingy when I come by-”
“-so what you’re saying is, she’s clingy?” The older’s eyebrows furrow in amusement and slight confusion - the way Miles speaks about the isolated experiences has him questioning what kind of girl his nephew was actually dating.
“You know what’s crazy, though, Tio?” The younger poses, pulling the handle to the passenger car door when he hears the click, signifying Aaron unlocking the vehicle finally. “She’s not clingy like that; it’s somethin’ else.”
“You’re losin’ me, kid.” The older chuckles, closing his door once he’s settled inside the driver's seat.
Miles sucks his teeth, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in thought, and Aaron can tell that the younger is trying to find the right words to distinguish what he means.
“I hear guys say that shit like that is annoying,” Miles begins, tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it down from riding up his toned stomach, “but it ain’t like that to me. She asks me all these things; think maybe it’s because she feels safe enough to ask them of me. And if she feel like I got the answers for her, then-”
The younger stops mid-sentence, contemplating how to proceed with his explanation. Yet, Aaron is all ears, listening intently. Quite frankly, it’s the most he’s heard Miles talk about anything in a long time - his rambling reminds him of the old Miles that once was, before the unfortunate.
Then, the younger takes a deep breath, reclines back into his seat, legs spread in the slightest for comfortability, his hands running the length of his thighs, “Ionno, Unc. Makes me feel good, I guess.”
And in that moment, Aaron’s vision blurs for a second. He can’t tell if it’s Miles sitting in the passenger seat, or if it’s his late brother. Perhaps it's the glare of the sun in his eyes…perhaps it’s Aaron actually seeing the soul of Jefferson shine through his son in the early morning sunlight that dances across his melanated skin.
A hum passes through the older’s throat as he starts the car up, the sound of the engine revving through the silence that settled within the car. Aaron clears his throat before speaking again, “I’ma tell you what I told your pops about your moms, kid.”
Miles turns his head from the window to face his uncle, who shifts the car from parked to drive, hand sitting at the top of the steering wheel. 
“If she make you feel good, the kinda good you know you can’t get anywhere else, and if she make you feel like a man; you keep her close.” Aaron hums. His lips tug upwards when the younger gives a subtle nod in return.
“I’m serious now, Miles. Don’t be like yo’ daddy.” Aaron reiterates as he pulls his foot off the brakes, turning the steering wheel and pressing down on the gas to drive out of the parking lot. “Dumbass almost lost ya moms cuz he ain’t wanna listen-”
“A’ight, a’ight, I got you,” the younger replies, “I’on think she goin’ anywhere no way, though.”
“Good.” Aaron affirms. “If she know of the kinda game you in, then she need to know how to work somethin’, too. Make sure she can hold you down properly.”
“I’on know about that, Unc,” Miles replies, “she too much of a good girl for that.”
“Shit, good girls work the best poles, boy. Don’t get the game twisted.”
“Unc, no one says ‘poles’ in reference to guns anymore.” The younger says through a chuckle as the two drive off down the street, the purples in the sky now fading into a pretty golden hue that casts over the city that never sleeps.
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pr0wlerpunk · 11 months
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Would they love you as a worm?
And how would they react?
(Platonic!)
Gn!reader
Some of these are short and I’m sorry for that, wrote this at 1:am and I didn’t rlly feel like adding or fixing anything ☹️
Warnings: Slight atsv spoilers!!!, really bad British slang(someone please help), idk if the terms I used for hobie are actual British slang or not….nor do I know how to spell them if they are☹️
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Earth-1610!Miles Morales- Definitely(but he Misses human you)
🕷️miles would ABSOLUTELY love you as a worm.
🕷️somehow someway you turn into a worm and miles is so protective.
🕷️I’m talkin’ like dude would keep you so safe, with a little terrarium filled with fresh soil and plants.
🕷️feel like he would also spend nights talkin’ to you and just spilling his problems out.
🕷️one time he got scared that his mom threw you out but she had just moved you…yea he almost had a heart attack
——
“Mom, where’s my little jar I had on my window?”
“Oh uhm….I honestly don’t remember where I put it..”
“…”
“Miles?”
And he’s already gone to look for you around the house.
It took him a hour but he finally found you…in a cabinet.
That night he spent singing sunflower to you
——
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Earth-42!Miles Morales- Kinda(he had to think about it)
⛓️ miles would have to warm up to you.
⛓️like 1610 miles, you somehow turn into a worm.
⛓️at first he thinks it’s a joke…but as time moves on he realizes you’re a worm.
⛓️he definitely would keep you safe though.
⛓️like he would keep you fed and made sure you didn’t dry out.
⛓️but like he doesn’t do the whole talk thing.
⛓️the only time he talks to you is when he’s checking on you(like twice a day)
⛓️he definitely hides you from his uncle.
⛓️he’s not ashamed he just doesn’t want to explain how you became a worm because even he doesn’t know.
⛓️though if Aaron ever found out I think he would just stare at miles and walk away.
——
“Yo miles, cmon man we gotta do a ru-”
“…” “…”
“Miles why is there a worm on your desk?…”
“I know it looks weird!!, but somehow [___] got turned into a worm..”
“…”
“Yea… we not doin’ no run today…you can just stay here with uhm…yo worm”
“Yo! Unc, it ain’t Like that!!”
But Aaron’s already out the door
And miles is left as heat flushes his now embarrassing face
——
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Hobie Brown- Doesn’t care(but yes)
🎸hobie doesnt care, Like literally it’s your life.
🎸but, he is one of them that would carry you in his pocket.
🎸like dude has a full on pocket full of damp soil just for you.(that’s how he keeps you safe)
🎸he doesn’t know how you got turned into a worm, but like I said earlier he honestly doesn’t care.
🎸if you wanna be a worm…he ain’t gonna stop you.
🎸like 1610!miles, he definitely would talk to you.
🎸like full on conversations though.
🎸like he’s asking you questions and everyone’s just staring thinking he’s finally lost his marbles.
——
“So I was tellin’ bloke-”
“Ay hobie, who’re you talking to?”
“Bruva, you’re tellin’ me you don’t see [___] right er’???”
“…no?”
“That’s botched huh luv?!”
Yea they never came back…
——
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Gwen Stacy- Not at first(but she does)
🎵she actually thinks you look stupid at first.
🎵she blames however you got like this on you or miles.
🎵she definitely thought you were ugly.
🎵but then she gets to care for you and ends up loving you.
🎵not the best at protecting you but please don’t be hard on her.
🎵she gets mad when someone tries to mess with you.
🎵like it’s kinda scary.
🎵I’m talkin’ bout full on glare, eyebrows furrowed, right nostril flared and lip curved up slightly.
🎵one day she caught a spider person tapping your glass and she got pissed.
——
“Ay!, why’re tapping the glass?”
“Oh, uhm.!”
“Move. This isn’t a zoo”
“Right! S-sorry!”
“…”
“You ok [___]?”
All in all everyone knew not to mess with Gwen and her worm friend.
——
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Jessica Drew- Yes(shes basically your mom now)
🤰🏾she absolutely loves you.
🤰🏾plus she thought it’d be easy practice for when she pops her baby.
🤰🏾is the type to tell someone she has a kid and then show them you
🤰🏾she’s definitely always checking on you.
🤰🏾protects you like a mom should.(kinda)
🤰🏾she cried when she lost you.
🤰🏾one day she set you down to grab a drink and when she came back you were gone.
——
“I’ll be right back [___], don’t move!”
5 minutes later…
“[___]?….[___]!??”
“E-excuse me, but has anyone seen [___]??”
“Uh, who?”
“Their a worm, and they were right here!”
She ended up finding you with Peter B and mayday
She realized this was harder than she originally thought…
——
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Miguel- No(He Acts Like he hates you, but secretly would do anything for you)
🕸️dude definitely almost stepped on you once or twice.
🕸️Bros the Type of Person to yell at you After he almost stepped on you.
🕸️but like once he warms up to you he’s definitely carrying you everywhere.
🕸️Like Bro wouldn’t trust you😭.
🕸️or for that matter anyone.
🕸️Like one time, he let Peter B watch You And when he came back mayday was about to eat you.
——
“I got it dude”
“Are You sure You can Watch [___]?”
“Yes now go..literally you’re ruining the mood right now”
10 Minutes later…
“I’m back-”
“PETER!?”
“What!, What!?”
“Your child almost ate [___]…”
“…”
“I’m sorry?”
“…Hijo de puta…”
“Yea i deserve that…”
——
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Pav- Yes(He wants to keep you forever..)
🪀Bro thinks you’re the cutest thing hes ever Seen
🪀he definitely calls you his little wormy
🪀he would keep you safe in a while mini House
🪀Like Bro made it And Everything
🪀he doesn’t want you to Turm Back Human
🪀Like…Ever 💀
🪀he definitely Rants to you about EVERYTHING
🪀he told you how miles called Chai, “chai tea”
——
“So im sitting there right And he just Says….Chai tea…”
“LIKE CMON MAN”
“PAV WHO ARE YOU TALKIN TO??!”
“NO ONE MAMA!”
His mom thinks he has an imaginary friend now….
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Tags: @alisblackgf
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redstarwriting · 11 months
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the clash | x. brand new
hobie brown x goth!reader
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word count: 2k
genre: enemies to lovers
warnings:  language, insults, mentions of everything that happened in the story, almost fainting, soft hobie, big fluff energy, essentially just a fun lil chapter above everything else to wash away the angst
a/n: AND IT'S OVER!! i'm actually crying a bit this was so fun to write. it will not be the end! you can all bet your asses i'll be working on a sequel for this duo. thank you to everyone who supported the story and my writing. you made the return back to this blog unforgettable and i am so grateful for all of you 🖤 please enjoy the last chapter of 'the clash'
previous chapter: ix. last caress
now reading: x. brand new
end.
───────────────────────────────────
After about 3 more days, you were feeling much better. Hobie was too, as he didn’t need to keep giving blood. In fact, the two of you were basically back to your normal selves. And much to Hobie’s relief, changing your molecular biology did not take away your spider powers. So now he had a partner in crime. Or partner in crime fighting?
Nah, partner in crime sounds better.
“Ready to go, love?” Hobie asks, pouring some food into Shadow’s bowl before closing the bag and webbing it to the ceiling. Shadow runs and starts chomping and Hobie grins, giving him a few pets. “Ready, babe,” you say, coming into to the room. Hobie stands and looks at you, letting out a long whistle. “You look stunnin’,” he says, looking you up and down. You twirl around, showing off how your spider suit looks in the style of his world. Your mask wask lost, so you had to make a new one, but that was no problem. You and Hobie fixed it up, and you gave in to Hobie’s pleas to make it resemble his a bit. Only a bit. You’re still Spider-Goth after all.
He walks over to you and wraps his arms around you. “The spiked choker is a nice touch, who convinced you to put that on? And the studs on your mask? Whoever helped you add them seems like a smart bloke,” he smirks. “You know he’s more of a smartass, but I guess I don’t hate it. The spider charm on the choker is a nice touch,” you say, taking the mask off and winking at him. “You not hatin’ somethin’? Now that is bloody mental.”
“Look who’s talking,” you say and he grins, giving your lips a quick peck before pulling away from you. “Haven’t the foggiest what you’re talkin’ bout, love.” He types on his watch and pulls up Earth-2099, the portal appearing in front of the two of you.
“I’m still so surprised Gwen, Miles, and Pav didn’t try to come to see us this whole time,” you say, and Hobie shrugs. “So am I, but I reckon they understood you were close to dyin’. And I may have threatened them that I’d kill ‘em if they came and woke you up at any point. Guess they took me seriously,” he says, and you playfully smack his arm. “Of course they took you seriously! You literally killed yourself for me, and that was before we even–”
“Fancied each other yeah, yeah, I know,” he cuts you off, grinning at you. “Ready?” he asks again, making sure you’re up to seeing everyone. You nod, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Off we go, then,” he says as the two of you walk through the portal, ending up in Miguel’s hub. “Lemme know if you feel sick or anythin’, yeah? We’ll go right back home,” he says, and you nod. “Thanks, babe,” you say, and he places a quick peck on the top of your head. The two of you walk out and multiple spider-people greet you and welcome you back. “I feel offended none of them have complimented you on your new look,” he says, and you laugh. “Relax, Hobie, I’m sure Miles will be so jealous.”
“And that’s all that matters,” he says, and you shake your head. “You know it would be so faster if we webbed to the common room,” you suggest, and he shakes his head. “Absolutely fuckin’ not. Have you lost the plot? You’re doin’ better, yeah, but you ain’t close to healed. We’re takin’ things nice and slow,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Getting used to the way you talk is gonna take a minute,” you say, shaking your head and he rolls his eyes. “I called you mental just now. Crazy, insane, unhinged–”
“Got it, you fuckin’ tosser,” you imitate his accent, and he removes his arm from your shoulder, giving you an offended look. “Do you know what to just said to me?”
“Nope, but the plan worked, bye!” you say, waving and webbing away. “HEY! BLOODY HELL!” you hear him scream, webbing after you. Even though you haven’t been in action for about a week, you’re still way faster than him. You laugh as he tries to catch up, but you slip out of his grasp every time. A lot of spiders see this happening and are relieved and happy to see the two of you back and wreaking havoc amongst each other. You beat him to the common room, landing and waiting for him. He lands right next to you a few second after you. “Are you bloody mad?!” he says, clearly exasperated, “I told you not to do that yet! What if you sparked out?!”
“Well, whatever that means, I didn’t.”
“Bloody fainted! What if you did?!”
“Relax, I’m not going to– oh, shit,” you suddenly feel very dizzy, and he wraps his arms around you to keep you from falling. “See. This is the shit I was tryin’ to avoid, but no. You had to go and be a bloody daftie,” he mumbles, and you giggle. “Your reaction was worth it.”
“Oh, I bet it was, ya fuckin’ muppet,” he rolls his eyes, and you grin at him. “Do you feel well enough to stand?”
“Probably but I like it better when you’re like this,” you say, and he gives you an unamused look. “Right, then,” he says, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder. You loudly protest. “Nuh uh, don’t give me that now, love,” he turns his attention towards the room, and to his chagrin sees Pavitr recording it on his phone. He rolls his eyes and plops you down on the couch. “Don’t move.”
“I do what I want.”
“Not today, you don’t.”
“Glad to see the two of you haven’t changed at all. Nice new suit, by the way, (Y/n),” Miles says, and Hobie sits next to you, placing his arm on the back of the couch behind you as you chirp out a thank you to Miles. “Why would we?” Hobie says, and Miles stares at him, dumbfounded. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you went feral just to protect their ass and they nearly died because of it and then you nearly died trying to save them after they nearly died and then we nearly died trying to help you so that they didn’t nearly die,” Miles says, and Gwen looks at him, nodding. “Nice description.”
“Thanks,” Miles says, smiling at her. Hobie shrugs, looking at you. “All in a day’s work of bein’ Spider-Man,” he says, and you snort. “You’re impossible, Hobie,” you say, leaning against his shoulder. His arm slides from the couch to having it lazily rest around your shoulders. “Good,” he says with a small smile. “Pav, stop taking pictures,” Gwen says, and he shakes his head. “How can I not?! I have been calling this since the first minute they interacted, you all called me crazy, I’m not crazy! I knew it!”
“Congrats, you want a prize?” Hobie says, and Pav smiles. “Yes, actually, I do. I’m aware you’re probably being sarcastic, but I believe I deserve some sort of recognition for recognizing what you two really were,” he says, and you laugh. “You’re the most emotionally intelligent of us all, Pav,” you say, and he nods. “You’re right. I so am,” he says, and Gwen smiles at the two of you. “I’m happy for you two.”
“Thanks, Gwen,” you say, and Hobie softly grins at you. “Woah! Look who’s back!” Peter B. Parker’s voice rings out as he lands next to you all. Mayday reaches you for you, and Peter hands her over. She gives you a little hug, and you smile. “And Hobie with his arm around you, nice. Nice. Nothing brings you and your partner together like a near-death experience. Trust me, I would know,” he says, and Hobie raises an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t that almost ruin your–”
“Welp, this was a nice talk,” he says, webbing Mayday back to him, and putting her in her carrier. “Catch you later, kids,” he says, webbing away with a short squeal from Mayday. “He is so fuckin’ odd,” Hobie mumbles, and you laugh. “It’s cute how much he loves MJ, though. The definition of til death do us part,” you say, and Hobie glances at you. “Yeah… but not as cute as us,” he whispers in your ear, causing you to look at him with a smile. “Nah, what did you just say to them?” Miles says, and Hobie shrugs. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says, and Miles rolls his eyes. “Nah, man, that’s not fair. Share with the class,” Miles says, and Pavitr sighs loudly, shaking his head. “Please Miles. It’s simply the way a boyfriend speaks to his partner.”
“Woah, now, who said I was their boyfriend?” Hobie asks, and they all look at him like he’s just grown a second head. “WHAT?! ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TELLING ME YOU TWO ARE NOT DATING AFTER EVERYTHING THAT HAS JUST HAPPENED?!” Pav shrieks at the same time as Miles yelling, “OH, I DON’T KNOW MAN, MAYBE THE FACT THAT Y’ALL LIVE TOGETHER AND ARE ALL UP ON EACH OTHER RIGHT NOW?”
“Chill,” Hobie says, putting the palm of his hand out and you snort. “We hate labels, guys.”
“It’s more of a ‘they’re mine’ and ‘I’m theirs’ typa thing,” Hobie says. “You can totally call it a relationship, or whatever you want to call it, though. We just aren’t putting a label on it,” you say, and Hobie nods. “You two are so cool,” Gwen says, and Hobie smirks. “We know.”
“So, I can still say you two are partners and that will be okay?” Pav asks, and Hobie shrugs. “Whatever, mate. We know what we are, so have your fun.”
“This isn’t like one of those situationships, right? Because those are totally unhealthy and not cool,” Miles says, not so subtly glancing at Gwen, and Hobie shakes his head. “Nah. Like I said, we know what we are.”
“Yeah, it’s like you said Miles. He wouldn’t just go feral to protect my ass and then when I nearly die because of it he nearly dies trying to save me after I nearly die and then have our friends nearly die trying to help him so that I didn’t die just for a situationship,” you say, putting a heavy layer of disgust on the term. Miles looks around at everyone before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.”
“Hobie, (Y/n), can I see you two for a minute?” Miguel appears, pulling the two of you away from your friends. You glance at each other but get off the couch and walk over to him regardless. “How are the both of you feeling?”
“Fine,” Hobie says, and you nod. “Yeah, totally ready to jump back in whenever.”
“Uh, no. No, you’re not able to do that yet,” Hobie says, and you groan. Hobie turns his attention to Miguel. “They’re not ready for that. They almost lost consciousness after webbin’ over here,” Hobie says, and Miguel chuckles slightly. “Well, Dr. Brown, let me know when (Y/n) is ready to get back into the swing of things–”
“Bloody awful pun there, mate. And don’t call me that.”
“–and– hey, that was a great pun, okay?” Miguel diverts his attention, pointing at Hobie with a frown. Hobie just shakes his head, and mouths ‘No, it wasn’t’ at you, causing you to laugh. “Just let me know when they’re better. We’ll continue our training,” Miguel says, and Hobie suddenly gets protective. “What for?”
“Nothing in particular. Mainly to just get their head back into the game. Make it so Spider-Punk and Spider-Goth are unstoppable forces of nature in New London. Happy to see you up and about, (Y/n). And Hobie,” Miguel says, looking at him, “Good job. It’s good to know I can rely on you.” Miguel webs away, and Hobie groans as you laugh. “You just got praise from the boss!”
“Piss off!”
“I got you promoted!”
“Come off it!”
“Never!”
“I hate you,” he says, but the smile on his lips betrays his words. You laugh. “I hate you, more.” He smiles, leaning in and kissing you, not caring who’s watching.
“PAV! STOP TAKING PICTURES!”
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thank you to everyone who asked to be on the taglist! sorry that tumblr lied to me about tagging you multiple times, but i hope you all were able to enjoy the story! thank you 🖤
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tainted-liquor · 6 months
Text
⋆✦ Keep Talkin' ⋆ [3.11.23] - ft. Miles G. Morales ⋆ Ingredients: Sugar, Smiles, and a lil bit of Salt! A/N! READER HAS A STUTTER. Please keep that In Mind.
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“Miles, c’mon…get up-“ You chuckled, using all your strength to shuffle Miles off your body. “Absolutely not.” He blurted, somehow getting heavier than earlier as he further relaxed on top of your chest. “I-It’s almost the e-e-end…fuck” you sighed, growing more and more agitated by the minute. For as long as you could remember, you had a mind that moved faster than your mouth could deliver; words and syllables getting lost on the tip of your tongue every time you attempted to vocalize your thoughts. “Mamita, está bien. vamos, sigue hablando, It doesn’t bother me” Miles grunted, plunging his face further into your soft navy-blue wool sweater.
“Y-y-yeah y-you don’t, I do” you chuckled, feeling the air fill your lungs as Miles hoisted himself off of you. The temperature difference was terrifying; you had gone from a comfortable cozy warm to a sudden burst of wintery air blowing directly on you from the A/C. You pulled yourself off the sophomore lounge’s plush bean bag, stretching and yawning while Miles poured coffee into his matte black water bottle. The enticing scent of fresh brew wafted through the space, invading the senses of anyone who passed by the cozy lounge. “You want some?” He asked, pouring French vanilla, cinnamon, sugar, and caramel into the bottle and giving it an aggressive shake.
You nodded, taking the bottle from his hands and taking a deep swig from the warm cup of caffeine. “Aight, c’mon. You have class” Miles recalled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he guided you out of the dim and inviting lights of the lounge to the harsh fluorescent lighting of the school hallway. “Miles, can we go to…what’s i-i-i-it called…the cafe across the str-..the cafe across the str-street?” You asked, twisting the cap back on his water bottle and handing it back to him without missing a beat. “Yeah, of course, come get me after class,” he beamed, shoving the water bottle back into the side of his blue backpack. You said your goodbyes, slipping into the cold confines of your classroom while you waited for the rest of the student body to cram into their assigned seats.
Tension was high as everyone opened their computers, faces being illuminated by the ghostly white hue of their screens as they got ready to present their Google slides. You’d always been exempt from vocalizing lengthy presentations, but today you wanted to at least try to work through or around your stutter. You got up from your seat as quietly as possible before fixing your ash grey skirt and made your way over to Mr. Talgate’s desk. You felt slightly more confident, or maybe that was just the ghost of pride taking over you from Miles’ reassurance prior. But regardless of what it was, you wanted to present your slides, especially with how hard you worked on them for the past 3 days.
“Mr. Talgate? Is i-i-it…is i-it alright i-i-if I pres-present today? I’m really proud of my slides n’ I wanna try tod-today” You whispered, attempting to suppress that agitating stutter of yours. Mr. Tailgate looked elated, like a proud father who was ready to support his daughter with anything she wanted. “Yeah, of course! You can go right after…uh,” He mumbled, looking over the classroom to see who you could sandwich your presentation in between. “Lisa! You can go after Lisa. But if you ever wanna stop, just let me know…Make a time-out sign with your hands and I’ll let you go, alright?” He smiled, waving you off as you nodded and retreated to your seat. No thoughts were coursing through your head as everyone went up and gave their speeches; one by one, people’s names were removed from the list as your time to speak came closer and closer. 
You fixed everything that you could, reciting your I’s and Y’s and E’s with each passing second. Lisa took any final questions, before giving a warm smile and a thumbs up in your direction, mouthing “Good luck babes!” before collecting her computer and returning to her seat. You gave her a sheepish, lopsided smile in return as you prepped the small podium in the front of the classroom to present your project. You sucked in a deep breath, wrangling your thoughts and lingering anxieties before turning to face your peers.
“Hi! So, m-my pres-presentation i-i-i-is about th-th…the chemical compound Nitrous O-Oxide.  As you can see, there’s-” You began, quickly beginning to feel the epiphany of speaking in front of a whole class setting in. You were doing fine for the most part, until a random voice in the back spoke up, ruining the rest of your day. 
“Yo, does she always fuckin’ stutter like this? We can’t skip her?” He moaned, throwing his hands in the air like he was stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Your blood ran cold as you shut your mouth and clutched the sides of the glazed oak podium. The class erupted in groans of annoyance and shouts of ‘Shut up!’ aimed at the boy as you quickly sat back down at your desk. Your waterline pooled with tears as the boy named ‘Kaiden’ was ejected from class. What a fucking loser.
You barricaded your face in your arms, the tip of your nose ghosting your desk as tears silently trailed from your eyes. The sound of whispers and apologetic glances in your direction went unnoticed as the tinnitus made itself known in your ears, flooding your senses as the pressure on your throat grew heavier. You struggled to control your breathing while you asked the teacher to leave, earning quick confirmation and a gentle pat on the shoulder from Mr. Talgate. When you finally brought yourself out of the classroom, you wiped away the remnants of the salty tears in the mirror that you kept in your blue locker. No matter how hard you dabbed at the trail of tears, no amount of recovery or cleanup would dissipate the feeling of dread that pooled into your stomach every time you went to open your mouth.
Anyway,
Thankfully, that was your last class of the day. All that was left was to find Miles and get some food, and then you could go home to your warm and comforting pink cotton sheets. Your glossy Mary Janes clinked against the pure white vinyl composition tiles, echoing through the spirit-painted walls as you advanced toward the sophomore lounge once more. You pushed open the deep grey sliding door, revealing your boyfriend with his legs propped up on the window seal. He crouched with his knees to his chest, one AirPod in his left ear as he read a bright red comic about someone named Spider-Man. His eyes broke their pattern of scanning over the small font and vibrant pictures, instantly turning over to look at you as he lifted himself off the window.
“Wassup, Ma…You out early, they let you go or somethin’?” He asked, giving you a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead. There was a moment of silence as you nodded with a small smile, earning a sideways glance from Miles. There was a thought that itched at the back of his mind, but he went against his better judgment and assumed you were tired and just wanted some food. It was all going fine until he realized that you were 2 minutes away from the familiar French cafe and you hadn’t said a single word. He missed your usual commentary as you passed by buildings, giggled about dogs, and pointed out signs that caught your attention. He glanced over in your direction, observing as you stared at the ground and fiddled with his bandaged fingers.
“You good Ma? You been real quiet lately… what's on your mind?” He questioned as he held open the glass door so you could pass through into the soft, dim, yellow lighting of the cafe. It was virtually impossible to get anything past Miles; he knew you better than he knew himself, that was clear. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you unpacked the events of 8th  period. “Then he said that I shou-shouldn’t be presenting,” you mumbled, taking a seat at the deep brown leather booth just by the back exit. The store was warm and the fragrance of fresh baked goods wafted through the air, something that could always be associated with comfort and relaxation wasn’t doing much to help you relax right now.
“Well fuck him. Fuckin’ dumbass ain’t even had the balls to say it at the front of the classroom…Kaiden failing his classes anyway baby don’t pay that bum any mind. His mama got 2 teaspoons of hair, Déjalo donde está” He grumbled, rolling his eyes as he slid you closer to his side. “Listen, don’t let them niggas hurt your feelings. He a fat rectangle with buck teeth, don’t let that motherfucker bend you,” He grunted.
“Now c’mon, I want a cannoli.”
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Tags !!
@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x  @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc
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charliesgoodboy · 7 months
Note
Hi idk if you write for shameless but if you could do Ian and Mickey and a shy male reader who they just love to tease bc they like seeing him get all flustered. Like he’ll start blushing or stumbling over his words
I.GALLAGHER M.MILKOVICH🕷
we goin' dumb
girl, got me fucked up.
mmm this yeah here, lean in my cup
can't tell me 'bout shit 'bout nun'
told the bitch don't shut me up,
wanna see them bands
wanna see them bucks.
bad bitches 'gon love me up,
bad bitches 'gon love me up.
song: . . .ılı GMFU odetari, 6arelyhuman
TW: teasing, male leaning reader(fem welcome because i do not care), i think i made reader a little touch starved, reader is actually shy not that uwu shit(hopefully i did, i word things horrible), bottom leaning reader, you may or may not be able to tell which is my favorite(it's the one who isn't ginger)
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ian gallagher who wouldn't mean to 'make fun of you' in a way, he just found the fact you'd sometimes cling to him or whisper words you were going to say to a waiter to yourself but you'd end up looking at him to take the order for you. watching you mutter a 'thank you' as the woman would write down your order and walk away, he couldn't help but smile, you'd do this almost all the time with others but with him you could talk your ear off if you were really, really, really comfortable. only being comfortable isn't enough you could still barely look him in the eye, you were working on it though. "could you look at me when you're speaking? i feel like you're talking to fifty different people." "i am." "could've fooled me."
mickey milkovich who would think you're rude and weird as shit when he first met you, the looking at me in the eye thing would bug him and itch at him at times. "hey, who are you talkin' to? your eyes are movin' around like thirty miles per second" "i'm talking to you–" "and speak up, no one can hear you sweetheart." the name sweetheart was clearly ironic and he didn't mean it but the laughing fit he'd go into seeing how truly effected you were by it, you looked like your mom caught you up late at night on a school night damn. but as time would pass he'd learn to live with it, not without taking advantage of it of course he wasn't that stupid.
ian gallagher who would purposely scoot closer to you on the couch not for the sake of the two of you being together but the sake of feeling you tense up when all he did was scoot a few and wrap his arm around your shoulder as the movie played. his eyes would linger at your body language with your nails scratching your wrist and your legs rubbing together and crossing sooner or later obvious discomfort but just in a different way he'd fix that for you. "need a little help there?" "n—no." "so yes?" he could just tell you felt pins and needles all around the embarrassment was getting to you like a bitch but damn he was tempting.
mikey milkovich who felt and indescribable feeling having sex with you. obviously he's shared you with ian before, and he's had sex with only ian before and those times were very memorable. but he still loved to have just you, shit anyone could get addicted to you. your body shivering and jolting at almost any touch he'd give you, going a little slow at first then slowly getting rougher with you loving each and every moan, groan, and whimper. the edging wojld be almost never ending and him sucking you off was euphoric, fuck he was talented with his tounge. his tattooed hands holding your thighs to keep your legs open as the warm feeling would bubble in your stomach each and every time you felt like cumming, your legs trying to close together in sensitivity but he wanted to swallow all of you. "you gotta work on tryna' keep your damn legs closed." "i do try.. " "doesn't mean it's not hot, i changed my mind."
ian gallagher and mickey milkovich that loved looking at the different expressions on your face of pleasure which let them know how well they were doing. mickey could have you take him from the back and ian would have you take him in by the mouth instead, your eyes blinking a little faster and rolling back due to the both of them. jealousy talks would be hell between the three, neither you or mickey could fess up to it or explain the hell he was doing wrong. but with just you? shit you were good at hiding it but they could tell if you had something to say. "you gonna tell us whats wrong? or are you gonna sit there lookin' like a bomb that's 'bout to implode." "tell you what? there isn't anything to tell." "you're a terrible liar, put your chin up and say what's the matter." damn this was gonna be a long night.
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beansandsprouts · 10 months
Text
I'm Not Jealous
Dean Winchester x fem reader
Fluff with a sprinkling of angst
Summary: While on a hunt, you and the boys bumped into another hunter working the same case. You decide to join forces, but you and this new hunter get along too well for Dean's liking.
Warnings: descriptions of violence, blood, little bit of angst, implication of sex
Dean watched as you giggled at something that hunter, Ian, had said. His jaw clenched when you touched Ian's arm and moved in closer to him.
He huffed as he turned his attention back to his array of weapons as Sam gave him a knowing look.
"You know she wouldn't be flirting with someone else if you'd made a move sooner."
"What the hell are you talkin about?"
"Come on man, it's obvious how you feel about her." Sam pushed.
"She's our friend, Sam. I just don't want her to get taken advantage of."
"Uh huh."
You were hunting a werewolf, it had killed four people in the last few days and you all intended on putting an end to it.
You'd tracked it to an abandoned farmhouse a few miles outside of town, and were preparing to make a move.
"Y/n! You ready?"
You turned to face Dean, giving him a bright smile and a thumbs up.
"Alright, let's move!"
The four of you walked back out to your cars, the werewolf having been taken down without too much trouble. There would definitely be some bruises but nothing too serious.
You were leaning back against Ian's car, chatting. Dean watched, brows furrowed as he put away his weapons. His blood boiled when Ian reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
"Dean, you can't keep angrily staring at them."
"I don't know what you're talking about." He grumbled, averting his eyes and slamming the trunk shut.
"Hey! Ian and I are gonna go grab some dinner. I'll see you guys back at the motel, kay?"
"Yeah...whatever." Dean grumbled, not sparing you a glance.
Sam side eyed him before turning to you, "Yeah no problem. Be safe, call if you need anything."
"Will do Sam." You smiled and turned back towards Ian's car.
"You just cannot stand the thought of her with someone else." Sam chuckled.
"I just...shes never been the type. She doesn't do one night stands."
"What makes you think it's a one night stand?" Sam raised a brow.
"You can't have relationships with this job Sammy. It just doesn't work."
"Maybe not with a normal person. But two hunters? That would work better."
"You don't think she's seriously considering dating that...that...prick?"
"Ian's a nice guy Dean."
"He's not good enough for her."
"You don't think anyone's good enough for her." Sam snorted.
Dean glared at him.
"You are seriously oblivious to how much you like her, aren't you?"
"What're you on about?"
"Do you not see the way that you look at her? The way you light up when she walks into the kitchen in the mornings? How she's always the one you check on after a hunt? You've always guarded her against guys at bars. You've always taken care of her Dean."
"She's family Sam. We take care of family." He growled.
Sam sighed, "Whatever you say."
When you returned later that night, Dean was sitting up in bed watching TV next to a sleeping Sam.
"Hey!" You whispered.
Dean glanced at you, "You have fun?"
You smiled, "Yeah, Ian's great."
He grunted in response, shutting off the TV and sliding under the covers. You bit your lip, you'd kinda hoped he'd have more of a reaction to you going out with someone.
You'd had feelings for Dean for years, but either he didn't notice or he chose not to. Eventually you'd resigned yourself to being his friend, his hunting partner. But you'd always wished for me. Maybe that was why you never pursued someone, you'd always kinda hoped something would happen.
But Ian was funny and cute, and you figured maybe it was time to move on. You'd tried to have a good time tonight, but all you could think about was what it'd be like to be with Dean. You'd come clean about it to Ian, not wanting him to get too involved with someone who was in love with another man. But he'd said it was okay, he was willing to wait for you to fall for him instead. He'd even asked you out again next week. It felt good to be wanted, to have someone want to be with you.
A week later and you're getting ready for your date with Ian. He'd invited you out to this nicer restaurant. Definitely a lot nicer than you were used to. You'd put on a form fitting black dress that came down to the mid thigh and accentuated your curves, the neckline plunged, showing off your chest a bit. You'd left your hair down for once, letting it frame your face nicely. And youd put on some nice perfume Mary had gifted you awhile back. You felt good and you looked good.
You walked out into the main room and the boys looked up as you did, Sam and Cas raised their brows and Dean choked on his beer.
"You look nice." Cas said.
"Really nice. I think I've seen your hair down like...twice." Sam said.
You grinned, "Thanks guys. Its definitely a change from what I'm used to but Ian's taking me to some fancy place in town so the usual jeans and t-shirt weren't an option."
Dean was staring at you, looking you up and down, seemingly in shock.
You heard a knock at the door, and shouted for him to come in. Ian came in, a bouquet of flowers in hand. He came down the stairs and his eyes widened when he saw you.
"Wow."
"Thanks." You smiled at him.
He wordlessly handed you the flowers, still staring. You left the room to try and hunt down a vase.
"You better treat her right." Dean said. Not even looking at Ian.
"Oh like you have?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean growled, standing and whipping around to face him.
Ian had a look of contempt on his face, like he was disgusted by the mere sight of Dean, "Nothing."
"No what the fuck-"
"I found a vase," You said as you entered the room again, "Put them in my-what's going on in here?"
"Nothing! You ready to go?"
"Uh yeah, sure." You said, eyes on Dean's clearly irritated face.
The evening was wonderful, Ian was lovely to be around. And the food was great. You entered the bunker again later that night with a smile on your face, which was quickly gone when you saw the pissed off look on Dean's.
"Dean? You ok?"
"Why are you going out with him?"
"Because I like him? What do you mean?"
"You've only ever needed us. Why has that suddenly changed? What could he possibly give you that me and Sam and Cas and Jack can't?"
You looked at him, shocked. He had stood and turned to face you.
"You can't have seriously expected this to never happen?"
"Why not? We've given you everything you need. A home, protection, family. What else is there?"
You blinked, "What?"
"What does he give you that we cant?" He growled.
You shook your head, "I want to be loved, Dean. I want to be held and kissed," your voice rising, "I want to be taken on dates and brought flowers. And God damnit I want to have sex!"
He just looked at you in shock.
"Listen," you continued, "I love you guys. You mean the world to me. But you all can't give me that. You can't give me what I want." Your voice broke.
"Why not?"
Your face contorted in confusion, "What do you mean?"
Dean's jaw clenched, "Why cant I be the one to give you that?"
"What?"
"Why not me y/n? I know I'm not the ideal partner, I drink a lot, I'm not the most emotional, and I know I don't deserve you, but I can try. I want to try. I want to give you that. I want you to smile at me the way you smiled at that schmuck."
You took a step back, ran your hands through your hair. You'd wanted this for so long. You'd imagined it, imagined what he'd say, what you'd say. But suddenly it was actually happening and you didn't know what to do.
Dean stepped forward and took your hands into his rough ones.
"Can't you give me a chance to do that for you?" He pleaded.
"God damnit Dean. I finally try to move on from you and you drag me right back in."
He drew in a breath as you looked up at him, teary eyed.
You stepped forward and leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
Dean felt his heart flutter at the small action, he stared at you wide eyed.
"You just...you..."
"I kissed you Dean." You said with an amused look on your face.
He broke out in a wide grin, "Wow."
"Wow?" You snorted.
"Shut up." Though you could tell he really didn't mean it.
"So are you gonna just stand there grinning like an idiot or are you gonna kiss me?"
"I'm gonna kiss you." He said as he leaned down, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his body, and kissed you.
You sighed happily, reaching to wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him like you'd been waiting to for thousands of years. And in some ways, it felt like you had.
He pulled back and began pressing kisses to your jaw and neck, you giggled. The feeling of his stubble brushing against your neck sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. His lips moved down your neck nipping and sucking, leaving marks along the way.
"Dean..." You breathed, your hands gently tugging at his hair.
"You're mine now. And I'm gonna make sure everyone knows it. Especially that wussy little prick you went out with tonight."
"He's not wussy and hes not a prick." You snorted.
"Seriously?"
"At least he was open about his feelings from the beginning. It didn't take him years to realize how much of a catch I am." You grinned.
Dean groaned, "You're not gonna let that go are you?"
"Oh definitely not. It took you three years to finally tell me you wanted me. Three years and me dressing up to go out with someone else."
"God when you walked in...I just couldn't believe it. I'd never seen you like that. Most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And then when I realized it was for that pr-" He paused when you gave him a look, "For that man. It pissed me off. I wanted you to dress like that for me."
"Oh Dean, you lovely oblivious idiot." You cooed.
"An oblivious idiot that you fell for." He teased.
"Damn right I did." You said and pulled him down to press little kisses all over his face.
As you moved to kiss his cheek he turned his head to catch your lips.
"Now, let me show you something Ian definitely can't do." He grinned, picking you up and carrying you off to his room.
The next morning you wandered out sleepily in one of Dean's t-shirts. Sam looked up at you, taking in the way you looked before grinning.
"Finally figured out his feelings huh?"
"Took him long enough." You laughed.
"Damn right it did. I've been watching you two pine after each other for way too long."
"It only took that long because he's an idiot."
"Who's an idiot?" Dean asked, walking into the kitchen and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"No one." You said as you and Sam shared a knowing look.
Dean narrowed his eyes, "Uh huh."
"Nothing to worry about love, eat your bacon." You chuckled.
Dean shrugged and sat at the table, loading his plate with eggs and bacon.
You smiled, a cup of coffee in your hand. You felt satisfied. And happy, and you knew you'd only feel happier as time went on.
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hobiebrownismygod · 4 months
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A short cuddling with Hobie headcanon?? <3
This was so fun to write!! Thx for requesting <3
Cuddling with Hobie was always your favorite part of the day
Morning cuddles, although welcomed, always end up with you being late for work or chores
It’ll start normally, with you waking up in his arms, your face pressed into his chest
But the moment you try to move away, his arms will wrap around you like an octopus
He’ll hold you so tight that you can barely breathe while he pulls you back in
When you try a second time, silently hoping he’ll let you go, you end up with him on top of you, suffocating you with his weight
he’ll snore quietly, only half awake while he nuzzles your face in your neck
You’re forced to wait until he wakes up (after 12 pm) before you can get out
Or…you could fight your way out
which you were forced to do on days you had work or someplace to be
but that almost never worked
because he’d simply give you a pitiful, puppy-eyed look and you’d feel so guilty that you’d give him another ten minutes to hold you before you left (it ends up being longer than ten minutes)
Nighttime cuddles were definitely a step-up
at the end of the day, when it’d gotten dark and the two of you were tired
he’d pull you back into his arms and sigh quietly, stroking your hair while he asked you to tell him about your day
And you’d talk and talk while he smiled and laughed, listening so intently when you looked up at him you couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world
The two of you would smile at each other for a silent moment, an exchange of unspoken words flowing between, before he’d nuzzle your face with his nose and ask you to “keep talkin’”
eventually, he’d end up falling asleep first like he always did, and you’d kiss him a few times on his face before snuggling up next to him
it always took you a little longer to fall asleep, but it’d end up being worth it
because it allowed for you to watch his expression for a while, kissing his face gently and smiling whenever his eyebrows raised up or his nose scrunched in response
sometimes you’d accidentally wake him, but he didn’t mind
he simply smile at you and pull you a little closer, burying his face in your hair and humming under his breath
eventually you would fall asleep, happy, and content with the fact that the cycle would continue the next day
and you’d get to wake up next to him again <3
this ended up not being that short, sorry, but I hope you enjoyed it!!
Taglist: @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @lauryn2558 @sunasslut69 @ask-1610-miles @axels-garden @s6onder
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theeultimatelifeform · 5 months
Text
On December 2nd, 2023 (12/02/23), RTVS drops a teaser for a future Half-Life 2: But the AI are Self Aware stream(s) in the official WRTV discord server (also available on Wayne's channel).
The teaser was simple and had a date displayed over the 28 second video, December 16th, 2023 (12/16/23). That was two weeks ago. As of today, December 17th, 2023 (12/17/23, nearly 1:40 AM EST), the stream had already happened.
It was set to start at 6pm EST, a delay caused the stream to be pushed back 30 minutes. At roughly 6:38 PM EST, the stream was again delayed due to difficulties. Many in both the offline Twitch chat and the official WRTV server were impatient, though those who have love in their hearts understood that the crew needed to deal with it, and chose to be patient and kind. Everyone was expecting a second season to the ever beloved Half-Life: But the AI are Self Aware (HLVRAI) series. I read that there were over 20k viewers (I didn't see the number myself, but I was there).
At roughly 7:02 PM EST, the stream finally started. A black screen with ambiance, quiet, making the chat explode with joy. The teaser plays again (minus the date text over the video). The glasses that were seen in the teaser trailer then became those of Walter White, the famed main character of AMC's Breaking Bad.
The stream that was originally supposed to be for HL2VRAI became the funniest joke RTVS could have done, Breaking Bad VR but the AI is Self Aware (BBVRAI). The entire stream was misleading viewers, from the stream title being labled "The Science Team Rises Again" and the game being set to Gary's Mod, from the lead up of the opening to the teaser trailer. Everyone was so prepared for Half-Life.
The stream lost thousands of viewers, and I, who stayed to watch, am overjoyed that they left. I had so much fun, I know next to nothing about BrBa, so the entire stream was a delight! I could tell that the cast and crew had fun planning and making the stream. Those who left missed out on many fun moments, especially the Coomer cameo in one of the scenes! Those who left also missed the official HL2VRAI trailer shown at the end. All in all, those who got pissy and complained that it wasn't HL2VRAI, and those who started being mean to the RTVS crew, missed out on something so FUNNY and so perfect! Such a shame.
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liyawritesss · 10 months
Text
ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ, ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ
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Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader
Type: Fic
Word Count: 1.7k
Synopsis: Sometimes Miles just wants to sway with you in the middle of his bedroom while R&B music plays in the background.
Warnings: Cursing, 15+ Miles here, keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!
A/N: My first (and possibly only) attempt at 42!Miles Morales. Idk, thought it would be something cute…might make a 1610!Miles Morales counterpart lol.
Song Suggestions: “Close” by Ella Mai, “Lotus Flower Bomb” by Wale ft. Miguel, “Love Don’t Change” by Jeremih
Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed
Sign Up For My Taglist Here!
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“Do you think this fits okay?”
His lights are set to the lavender color setting on his LED lights that line the top ceiling corners of his room, though the lamp on his desk also provides warm white light to contrast against it. Miles looks up from his phone conversation with his uncle to glance at your figure standing in front of the mirror attached to the back of his door as your gaze analyzes the new pair of leggings adorning your legs.
“They look perfect, bella.” Miles responds, the amused lilt in his voice nearly blowing over your head when you hear him speak. Though, to Miles, anything you wear is perfect in his eyes. Your lips jut out in a pout as you continue to examine your bottom half dressed in the black leggings, debating on if you’d gotten the right size to accentuate your curves the way you want them to.
The leggings were just one of many items that laid in various shopping bags that littered Miles’ floor, currently. From LuLuLemon to Victoria’s Secret to Fashion Nova, Miles can certainly say that he’s made up for his impromptu disappearance before your date night the night prior.
He didn’t mean for last night to happen, truly. He knew you really wanted to see that movie. It was the last night it was playing in theaters, too, and you were so excited when you managed to find tickets to the last showing, and proposed the date idea to him. Miles admits that he was interested in the proposition, not just because you had proposed it, but because the mere mention of it got you so worked up that he truly believed it to be worth it.
So, to make up for not only bailing on the date, but also going ghost for much the prior night as well, he picked you up for an impromptu day at the mall. It wasn’t an easy feat, Miles admits, convincing you to allow him to make it up to you in this way. He felt guilty for inadvertently crushing your hopes, and you’d felt even more guilty about taking the new date offer that required him to spend his money.
“I’m tryna make it up to you.” He’d said
“Miles, I said it was fine-” you’d said.
“-but it’s not, though.” He’d interjected.
“You had…stuff to do,” you’d whispered to him, “I can’t expect you to drop everything at my beck and call, and I know what I signed up for when we started dating.”
If someone told Miles that four months ago he’d start dating the pretty girl who always slept through their shared mathematics class, he’d surely look at you as if you’d just grown a second head. He still doesn’t know what attracted him to you in the first place - how pretty you looked asleep at your desk, or the fact that even though you’d be knocked out the second you took your seat, if the teacher happened to call on you for a question, you managed to answer it correctly every time. 
You’d quickly became his first and, as it stands, only friend at Visions Academy. Soon enough, you’d also became aware of his double persona, though if Miles had it his way, he would have kept you in the dark for as long as possible. It wasn’t easy, juggling the duality of the life he lived. The less people close to him, the easier the job was. Well, unless the person was you.
You were like a piece of gum stuck under a desk - an ever looming presence, never disappearing; but like the candy before being discarded, you were also sweet, refreshing, comforting. Miles wanted to make this work for the both of you. He’d grown too fond of you to let you slip out of his life like sand from the beach.
“So that mean you just accept whatever you get?” Miles asks, eyebrows raised again. “Nah, we don’t do that around here.”
Unfortunately, there was no fighting against Miles when he had his mind made up.
So you entertained his proposition, though not without a fight. You made sure that the boy bought some things for himself as well, and even managed to sneak in a few items for his mother (which, in all honesty, he didn’t need much convincing for - it was his mother, after all). So, granted, not all of the bags on the floor were yours, so it made you feel a bit better about Miles splurging on you as an apology.
He watches as you shift through a tiny black and pink bag with the V.S. initials printed in cursive on the side, fishing out a bottle of soft purple body mist that Miles would recognize anywhere. He’d recognize it because it was his favorite scent that you frequently bought from the clothing chain. He could never tire of the lavender and jasmine that calmed his mind and relaxed his body whenever you were around, or put him to sleep whenever the two of you cuddled together.
The familiar spritz spritz sound echoes throughout his room, fading into the old school R&B that currently plays in the living room area where his mom is having company over. The mist settles into the cloth of your sweatshirt - his sweatshirt, actually -  and into your skin, before he watches your feet carry you closer to him.
“Don’t tell me you sprayed that just to come and hug me?” He says, though his body straightens at the edge of the bed, phone becoming a distant memory as he tucks it into his hoodie pocket.
You shrug, a playful smile spreads to your lips as you step between his legs, hands coming to cup his cheeks, “shut up, you know you like it.”
He didn’t have to admit that he loved it - a lazy hand coming to rest at the back of your knee was enough proof of it.
“Why you tryna be like me,” the brown skin boy hums, sucking his teeth and deflecting the conversation from the truthful statement, “always stealin’ my clothes ‘nd shit.”
“Same reason why half of my scrunchie jar is gone,” you tease back, “I gave you one, Miles, and now I’m missing, like, ten of ‘em.”
“I’on know what you talkin’ ‘bout.” 
“Of course you don’t.”
At some point, the same hand that rested behind your knee crept up to your waist as his head pressed into your stomach, the smell of your perfume drawing him closer. It lulled him into a state of security; however, it was swiftly ruined when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He’s sure that it’s Aaron.
He takes the phone out and it opens up to his text messages almost immediately when his face comes into view. The ominous intent behind the words ‘hold on’ in blue bubbles makes his stomach tighten.
You feel it, too. The shift in his demeanor can be felt when you stand this close to him. “Was it Aaron?”
His phone becomes discarded on the bed while his other arm raises up, and both wrap around your frame while he buries his head into your stomach inhaling the perfume etched into the fabric there. “Yeah.”
One hand goes to rub soothing circles on his clothed back, the other caresses the nape of his neck, holding him close, for the reality of it all was that he could have to leave at any moment.
The slightly muffled music from the living room shifts to another song and it sparks a lightbulb in your head. 
Your hands go to gently pry Miles’ hands from your body. He raises his head in question, before being tugged to his feet by you as well. You reposition his arms around your waist, and yours find their place around his neck, and after a few seconds, it clicks for him.
“You’re so corny.” He voices, muffled by the position his face takes in the crevice of your neck, nose tickled by the goddess braids that rested against your shoulders.
“Shut up,” you lightly scold, “just sway with me, idiot.”
The richness of the singer’s voice gives Miles’ body more than enough incentive to lean from side to side in a slow motion, taking you in his arms with him as he does so. You fully expect for him to pull away or grumble at the proposition, yet, you’re not completely surprised when he simply gives in to your direction. Perhaps he desires the same closeness you do in this moment, you think.
Miles feels himself smiling when the touch of your hand graces his cheek, thumb swiping comforting strokes along his skin. He hums at the touch, his grip tightening in the slightest around your waist. Is he too young to wish for this all the time?
His phone buzzes in his pocket again, his brown hand fishes for the device and glances down at the text message once more. The pit in his stomach fades away when he reads the words ‘no need. good 4 2nite’ from his uncle in blue. Miles lets out a short breath, pockets his phone, and sinks back into your touch. 
He’s thankful that there seems to be no need for the Prowler on the streets tonight. Perhaps he can rest in peace.
Miles’ taken from his thoughts when he feels your lips graze across his cheek. “Everything good?”
He feels a smile spread across his lips. “Yeah, we good,” he hums, returning the affection.
Neither of you even notice that another person has entered the room, until the sound of someone clearing their throat echoes throughout the walls. Miles looks up from your shoulder to see his mother standing in the doorway, a content yet melancholic look on her face.
“If you kids want something to eat, there’s leftovers from me and the girls, bien?”
The hand that was once on his cheek now hides your face from his mother’s prying, knowing eyes, and it emits a chuckle from the older woman.
“Bueno, mami, we’ll get some later.” Miles replies before Rio leaves, making sure to leave the door ajar just the slightest.
Though, neither of you are ready to part, even at the prospect of food. So Miles returns to the warmth of your neck, your hand returning to caress the side of his face as he molds himself back into you, and the two of you continue to sway to the music, content in your own little world.
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callmeoncette · 10 months
Note
Hobie s chubby reader
I can just imagine him going crazy for someone with a fuss
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Thickums
Hobie x black!chubby!reader
There’s some implied sex but like there’s no actual smut
I love a good chubby reader idc idc!!!! And I love the arach-kids and imma always love them!!! Those are my nieces and nephews fr y’all I just got cut out the movie😔
You stood next to your boyfriend and your honorary nephews and nieces as you got chewed out about something during a mission. You couldn’t care less about whatever Miguel was shouting about. You were burning up and your Spidey suit only made it feel worse. Like a wearable sauna.
Your mask was off and you started to fan yourself with your hand sighing loudly. Miguel cut his eyes at you making you return the attitude. He relented and pinched the bridge of his nose knowing he didn’t have the energy to argue with you, “dismissed…” he grumbled walking off as Lyla popped up to tell him something.
“Thank the lord! He see me sitting here burnin’ up and just keep talkin’ bout absolutely nothin’ like…” you tapped away on your watch. When the portal opened you turned to the others, “hey y’all wanna go swimming? My apartment complex has a pool but like nobody be out there cuz it’s full of old people.”
Margo, in person instead of her hologram, agreed quickly, “I love me a good pool, girl!” She said pressing buttons on her watch. The others also agreed excitedly. “I haven’t been swimming since I went with Gayatri.” He said in a love sick tone. Miles quirked a brow, “why’d you say that like it was forever ago it was just last week?”
You laughed, “just get changed and head to my dimension!” You say starting to step through.
Once through you quickly started pulling off your suit revealing your plush, chubby body. You let out a sigh of relief as you bend down to get the suit.
“Enjoying the show Bee?” You pop back up and turn to see him sprawled out on your bed. His eyes low as they study you with a familiar glint in them, “very much so.” His tongue running over his lip ring. You smirk and go to your drawer pulling out your swimsuit. You make your way to the bathroom and hear your bed quietly creak. Once inside you turn around and smirk up at the tall dark skin male leaning against the doorframe.
“Is there somethin’ you need sir?” Your arms crossed. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to him. His head dipped and his lips brushed over yours as they traveled to your neck where he peppered kisses. He then went and kissed your jaw and then your cheek before eventually moving back to your lips. He pulled back his thumb pulling at your bottom lip as you looked up at him with excitement shining in your eyes. His hand gently went around your throat to hold you in place, “gimme lips, yeah?” he pressed your lips together. Your giggles and mewls bouncing off the wall as he closed the door.
———
You and Hobie had a certain glow after your shower. Both of you smiling without actually smiling.
You were dressed in a white bikini when Margo and Gwen came through bickering. Margo wore a violet and teal one piece with a cut out on the stomach. Gwen wore black and white swim shorts with a teal top.
“[name] doesn’t she look like a girl kisser? She keeps tryna deny it!”
“I never said I wasn’t a girl kisser I just said you kiss girls too!”
You snorted at them and went to record a few videos of yourself in the mirror looking good.
The boys came at the same time with Miles gracefully tripping as he came in when he saw Margo and Gwen who giggle. His red swim trunks had small anchors on them that were black and gold. Pavitr was very smooth with his entrance as he flipped hair and showed off his blue and gold trunks, “you guys like? They match with Gayatri.” His smile practically blinding.
“You two have matching swimsuits?” Gwen asked with a quirked brow.
His expression fell, “well no. She said it was too cheesy, even for her…” he then perked up, “but I bought them and that counts for something!”
You pouted at ‘your’ kids, “awww so sweet Pav! Now come along children. Come get in your favorite parent’s video so I’ll have memories!” You say opening Snapchat and starting to record you all in the mirror. As soon as you started you noticed your pudge stuck out a bit more than usual, “hmmm my fupa really fupa-ing today.”
Just then Hobie strolled into the room dress in patriotic trunks he stole and made his own with tears and safety pins here and there. He got in the video and looked in your reflection in the mirror. He licked at his lip ring and shrugged.
“Good pum pum deserve shelter.”
You could hear a pin drop as everyone stood frozen, except for the punk who went about getting a towel. The video then stopped recording and continued to replay what he said, taking up the silence.
Everyone stared wide eyed. You broke the silence first.
“Hello???”
He looked at you and shrugged, “did I lie?”
You sputtered and Pav started laughing in the back.
“Honestly you’re lucky I didn’ say tha first thing I thought.”
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redstarwriting · 11 months
Text
the clash | iv. london calling
hobie brown x goth!reader
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word count: 2.8k
genre: enemies to lovers
warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, smoking weed, alcohol, mentions of a gwen canon event, mentions of death, lil angst
a/n: nother long one! i can’t wait to make it crazy angsty bc when i tell u i have THOUGHTS 👀 thank you to everyone who’s reading, i’m trying to update it every day, so hopefully i can stick with that schedule! enjoy this chapter, friends :)
now reading: iv. london calling
previous chapter: iii. black planet
next chapter: v. ever fallen in love
───────────────────────────────────
He fixes his watch to open a portal to his world. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr basically run to get to it. He motions for you to go ahead, and you walk through. Immediately when you step into his room, you’re hit with the smell of weed and incense. You’d be lying if you said you hated it. You glance around. You see drums, another electric and acoustic guitar, empty spray paint cans, spray paint on the walls, stacks of newspapers (all defaced in some way)… it feels very Hobie to say the least. “Now this. This is a livin’ area,” he says, appearing behind you. You shake your head. “So loud, both figuratively and literally. How do you ever get anything done?”
“By being louder than everyone else, obviously,” he responds, and you roll your eyes. “What a way to live,” you remark. “Better than that quiet, dark, and gloomy, way,” he retorts, and you shrug. “If you say so.”
“Hey, Hobie, do you still have the roof all decorated?” Gwen asks and he nods. “Course I do. I own the place, head on up,” he jerks his head upwards, and Gwen turns to Miles and Pavitr with a smirk. “Race ya!”
“Hey no fair! You have been here so many times!” Pavitr yells as Gwen takes off. “Come on, Miles!” you hear her yell. Miles smiles gently and shakes his head before going after the two of them. “He’s so obsessed with her it’s making me sick,” you mumble, and Hobie snorts. “What? Miles and Gwen’s relationship too much for you? You hate love?”
“Love has never done anything but cause me pain. And not the good kind,” you glance at him with a frown, and he raises his eyebrow. Suddenly his eyes get wide. “Oh shit… you had a Gwen canon event.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” you respond, and he frowns. “You know, actually talkin’ about that kinda shit is a good way to not sit on it and let it build. You could face some serious problems if you keep doin’ that.”
“Who said I gave a fuck what you think? I didn’t ask for the unneeded advice, alright?” you say, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Oh, right. Forgot I was dealing with a bloody doughnut,” he mumbles and point to the window. “Care to go to the roof and get out of my sight?”
“Sound like the best thing you’ve said since I got here,” you say, leaping out of his window and climbing up the side of the building. While clinging to the wall, you glance out at Hobie’s world. His city looks almost exactly like Night of Yore City, except for the fact that there are a shit ton of fires burning, over half of the buildings look abandoned, the sky is a reddish-orangish hue, and it is so much louder. The name is also vastly different, as his version of NYC is New London. Universal differences get weird and confusing. Nonetheless, you’re intrigued, you turn around, putting your back against the wall and supporting yourself with your hands and feet. The graffitied buildings are a nice touch, you must admit. You snort to yourself when you see a mural of Hobie. If only they knew the asshole behind the mask.
“Now why the hell aren’t you up there with everyone else?” you hear his voice pull you out of your thoughts as he crawls up next to you. You shrug. “I’m a sucker for views, I guess.”
“Well, believe it or not, view is a lot better from the top of the buildin’,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Can I please just be secluded and observe in peace?”
“Absolutely fuckin’ not. Come on,” he says, starting to walk up the wall. You sigh and lazily roll backwards and up the wall to come to standing and follow him up. When you get to the top of the roof, you see a boombox (blaring punk music, of course) and blankets surrounding a barrel with a fire going in it. Multiple coolers decorate the roof which all look stockpiled full of different beers. “Hey, Hobie, you know that they’re all kids, right?”
“New universe, new rules, love. Drinking age is 16 and up ‘round here, not that I’d give a fuck if it wasn’t anyway. So, sit down, shut up, and drink a damn beer. Maybe you’ll loosen up,” he says, tossing you a random bottle. You roll your eyes and sit down but put the beer to the side.
“Hey, Hobie, do you have any of that–” Miles gets cut off by Hobie tossing him another bottle. “Nice. Thanks, dude,” he says excitedly, cracking the top and taking a drink. Gwen gets her beer of choice, and Pavitr does the same. Hobie, you notice, doesn’t drink anything. “So, what were you guys talking about?” Gwen asks, pointing between the two of you with her bottle. “What?” you ask, and she shrugs. “You guys were alone in Hobie’s for a while and no one died, soooo did you guys finally talk about something you could agree on?”
“We can’t agree on nothin’, Gwen. They were just bein’ their usual self and annoyin’ the shit out of me at any chance they could get,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “Good to know it worked, mate”
“Stop imitatin’ me, poser.”
“No, I don’t think I will.”
“I’ll make you.”
“Try me, Hobart.”
“Alright, that’s enough of that. What were you guys talking about?” Miles asks, and you and Hobie look at each other. “Just asked where the bathroom was,” you say, and he nods. “Yeah. That’s it.”
You weren’t necessarily ready to reveal you faced the Gwen canon event. Especially not to another Gwen. At least Hobie isn’t enough of a dick to bring it up in front of them. “Oh, yeah, you did change into your everyday clothes. Don’t know how I didn’t notice that,” Gwen states, taking another swig of her beer. You had changed in your apartment after cleaning your wound, but you don’t say anything. Hobie nods at you, and you nod back.
“Why aren’t you drinking anything (Y/n)? Here, try this it’s so good,” Pavitr pushes his bottle toward you, and you shake your head. “I don’t want to drink, but thanks Pavitr,” you say, and he frowns. “Awww.” You smile slightly at how disappointed he sounds. “Well, I want to remember everything you all tell me without it being fuzzy because I was hoping you could let me know a little bit more about all the spider people in Spider Society. I’m still new, you four, Peter B. Parker, and Miguel are the only ones I’ve really met.”
With that, Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr start telling you everything they know. You learn about Jessica Drew, Spider-Man Noir, Peni Parker, and so many more. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr talk for hours, and since they’re kids, they do not know when to stop drinking. Eventually, the three of them are passed out. Miles is cradling Gwen’s side with his head on her chest as she wraps one of her arms around him, and Pavitr is laying straight on his back, lightly snoring. You giggle softly at the sight. Suddenly the punk music you’ve been listening to for the past however many hours gets softer. You glance over to where it is and see Hobie bent over and turning it down. “Don’t wanna wake ‘em,” he mumbles, walking over to you. The volume of the city has decreased quite a bit, and with the low hum of music coming from the boombox now, his world is actually kind of enjoyable. Though you’d never tell him that. He motions to the skyline, and you turn and look. He was right, as much as you hate to admit it. The view is a lot better from up here.
“Why didn’t you drink anythin’?” he asks, and you shrug. “Didn’t feel like it. Why didn’t you drink anything?” He shrugs and pulls out a rolled cigarette from his vest pocket. “Got somethin’ better.”
“And you didn’t offer any to them?”
“Hey, they can drink here, they don’t need to mess with this shit. ‘Sides I knew they’d be pissed. Gonna have a god-awful hangover tomorrow,” he says, pulling out a lighter. You shake your head. “They can’t mess with your shit, but I can?”
“The two of us are the same age. We’re ‘adults’ or whatever the fuck that means. Are you too stuck up to be ‘round some grass or somethin’?”
“No, Hobie, I don’t give a fuck if you smoke weed. Building manager might, though.”
“Love, I am the building manager. This place is abandoned, so it belongs to me. And you’re not tellin’ me I’m supposed to smoke this myself?” he asks with a sly smirk on his face. You raise your eyebrow at him. “Actually I am.” He groans, putting the joint to his lips and lighting the end of it.
“Do you know how to have any fun?”
“Do you know how to have any–” Before you can finish, he puts his finger over your mouth, and raises the joint to his lips again. He takes a deep breath in, blowing out the excess smoke and glancing at you. “No.”
“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“Don’t care. The answer is no.”
“Have you ever actually tried listening to anything anyone says?” “Nah. I don’t listen to no one. I’m me, and if people don’t like that, good,” he says, taking another drag. He glances over at you and holds the joint out. “Y’sure you don’t want some?”
“You actually want to share with me?”
“I want you to not be as much as a ragin’ fuckwit, so yes,” he blows smoke in your face, and you glare at him. “If I take one hit, will you shut the fuck up about it?”
“Probably not, but it would sure make me happier.” You roll your eyes, and take the joint from him, taking a drag. He watches you. He’d never admit it, but he wishes you weren’t such an asshole. The way you look doing that in the moonlight? Stunning. You pass the joint back to him, some of the smoke coming out of your nose. “Stop staring at me.”
“Just makin’ sure you did it right and didn’t waste my shit,” he says, taking another drag. “I know how to hit a joint, Hobie.”
“Really? Never would have guessed you’d do anything remotely excitin’.”
“Oh, please. You barely know me,” you say, angrier than you probably should be. “Then tell me about yourself, love.”
“Hard pass,” you say, and he groans. “I get the desire to stay anonymous and mysterious, obviously, but come on. Chances are we’re gonna be seein’ each other more than either of us wants to, so just open up a bit,” he says, and you frown. “There’s nothing you need to know.”
“Bullshit.”
“Oh yeah? Then tell me something about you.”
“I killed Norman Osborn with my guitar after defeatin’ him and all of his V.E.N.O.M. forces and successfully led a rebellion against fascism,” he says smugly, “Until those other fuckin’ Nazis showed up, but one day I promise you this world? Will be capitalist and fascist free.”
“No, it won’t. Am I supposed to be impressed?” you ask with a deadpan face. He scoffs. “Damn, you’re a wanker. I’d like to see you try and defeat the V.E.N.O.M. forces. From what I seen your world’s villains are rubbish,” he says and to his surprise, and yours, you laugh. A hint of a smile plays on his features, but you shake your head. “Green Goblin is, you’re right, but... there are others who are much worse. And what the fuck is a venom force? You’re saying that like I should just know what it is.”
“It was a symbiote that– wait, you sayin’ you don’t know what venom is? That’s something every spider-person deals with at some point,” he says, and you shrug. “Guess I haven’t dealt with it yet.”
“Yeah, well, when you do, call me cause you’ll need my help,” he says and you roll your eyes. “I’d rather die than get help from you.”
“I helped you today, love.”
“I could have done that myself,” you retort, and he shakes his head, taking another drag. “I guess I should thank you though.”
“Hmm?”
“For not telling them what we were really talking about,” you say, and he hums. “What they won’t know won’t kill ‘em. But just so you know I was being so serious. Not talkin’ about that shit is more harmful than good,” he says, and you frown. “I’m not much of a talker.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
“Do you ever shut the fuck up,” you groan, and he laughs. He loves pissing you off, might be his favorite thing to do now. But the conversation might actually need to get serious. He may hate you, but he’s Spider-Punk for the people, and you’re apart of that people. He’s there to help, so he may as well try with you.
“Why not?”
“What?”
“Why not? Why won’t you talk about it?” he asks, and you huff. “Because it was my fault, and I don’t want to think about it.”
“Nah, I bet it wasn’t your fault,” he mumbles, taking another drag. You glare at him. “Oh, right, I forgot you were there when their neck snapped after I tried to save them,” you spit, and he glances at you. You can feel that hit starting to affect you, that’s the only reason you said anything about… the incident. Of course, Hobie has good shit, why wouldn’t he. “What were you trying to save them from?” he asks, his voice oddly calm. “The Prowler,” you reply, “He’s the worst of the worst in my universe.” He hums and nods. “Well then, reckon it’s the Prowler’s fault then, innit?”
“What? But I’m the one who couldn’t get to them in time after he–”
“He did it, (Y/n). You did your best, but it ain’t your fault what happened there. That’s what they want you to think. Try and get that through your thick skull, would you?” he says, and you scoff, “They?”
He nods, and you go quiet. He glances over at you as you just sit and stare out at the city. “Stop doin’ ‘at.”
“Doing what?”
“Blamin’ yourself,” he says, taking another long drag. You sigh. “I can’t help it,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. “You can. Just takes time,” he responds. You scoff, “You’d think three years would be enough time.” You look out at his city. It’s so different from yours, but you can still see the beauty in it. And you can see the stars. None of the constellations of your world are here, but the sky is still beautiful. “If you need a place to crash, my couch is very comfortable and has your name written all over it,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “I should probably just go back to my universe–”
“No way. No dimension hopping under the influence,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “I had one hit,” you say, and he shrugs. “And one hit is enough for you to think you’re goin’ home only to end up in Peter Porker’s shower. You’re stayin’ here tonight.” You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“I’m insufferable for watchin’ out for your well-bein’? Okay, sure.”
“I don’t need you to watch out for me. I don’t need anyone,” you hiss, and he scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Too good for everyone else.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It was implied.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“Like you wouldn’t say the same thing,” you say, and he shrugs. “You’re right. I would say I don’t need anyone, because I don’t. Especially not a miserable thing like you,” he says, and you frown. “Good.”
“Great.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you.”
The two of you just glare at each other for a bit before he flicks the butt of his joint off the building. “Goin’ to bed. See you tomorrow.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Shut up and follow me back to my place,” he says, getting up and walking down the building. You follow, yawning as you realize just how tired you are. When you get back inside Hobie’s place, he points at the couch. “Lay there, and don’t move until mornin’, got it?”
“I’ll do what I want.”
“Amazin’. Just don’t wake me up, and I won’t give a fuck,” he says, walking into his bedroom and kicking his door shut. You roll your eyes and lay down on his couch. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable, and you find yourself actually dozing off faster than you anticipated. Hobie walks out of his room to get a drink of water and ready to fight you verbally again, only to see you passed out on his couch with literally no blanket or pillow.
He sighs, grabbing a throw blanket off his bed and gently placing it on top of you. In the morning, you wake up before everyone else. You notice the blanket, and know only one person could have done that, but you don’t feel like sticking around to say anything. You just go home. But before you do, you leave a little note saying, ‘didn’t need your sympathy, thanks but no thanks,’ and draw a little middle finger.
He’ll get the hint you appreciated it.
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hoedamn-eron · 3 months
Text
sweet talkin'
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Marc, in the throes of a Valentine's panic, receives your gift.
Warnings: 18+. Merely for the message on the chocolate having ✨ suggestive themes ✨. Worries of not feeling enough (Marc spirals a little bit). No mentions of Jake or Steven, or Khonshu, but it doesn't mean they're not there 👀. Not proofread, as usual, so there will be mistakes. Word count: 1,586 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.
For the love of God, please go and take a look at Salty Mail on Insta.
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You were a very emotional person.
Well, no, that’s not strictly true, but you have no problem in expressing yourself. You tell people how you’re feeling if you feel like the moment needs it.
Which is why you find Marc Spector to be such an enigma.
When you first met Marc, it was a struggle to detect what he was feeling. He was friendly to you, of course, but you weren’t even sure how he actually felt about you until he’d asked you out. Even throughout your dates he was always stoic, but now, after all this time together, you like to think that you read him pretty well. Now you can tell when he was feeling stressed, or going through a tough time, but every time you tried to get him to talk to you about it, he always ended up pushing you away, telling you he’ll deal with it.
He did eventually open up about his past (sans Jake, and Steven, and the Big Bird), and that explained quite a lot. Because of this, you’ve come to accept that he just had some issues he needed to work through, and that was okay.
The thing was, he had no problem listening to your gripes and whines, since you were such an open book. But what Marc seemed to have a problem with was when you tried to tell him about how you felt about him, how amazing he was, and how you practically worshipped the ground he walked on. He always seemed to curl in on himself when you did, and it broke your heart to see how he didn’t see how great he was.
It didn’t make what you said about him any less true. You’d mentioned going to a therapist, and you were fully supportive of him, telling him about how much it would benefit him. He still wasn’t set on the idea though. He didn’t seem all that thrilled about it, but at least he was thinking about it.
Now, it’s Valentine’s Day, and Marc had been thinking about it all week. He wasn’t sure what your stance was on it, you’d never really spoken about it before, but he was sure you’d mention it at some point during the day. It was your first one together after all.
He was thinking of just getting you some flowers, and your favourite treats, but he already does that for you on a regular basis.
Maybe you could go out to dinner? You’d mentioned you wanted to try out that fancy new place a few streets over. Oh but it was too late for that, he’d be lucky if he could book a table on Valentine’s Day.
He was so caught up in his head, he hadn’t even noticed you placing a plate of pancakes, with a side of fruits, in front of him, only coming to when you were giving him a kiss on the cheek.
“You’re a million miles away, are you okay?” you ask, your brow furrowed lightly, stroking his hair.
“Yeah, sorry,” Marc said, giving you a small smile as he looks down at the plate. “Looks great, baby.”
As he tucks in, you make yourself a plate. “I’ll be home for 5pm, we can check out that new TV show you wanted to watch.”
Marc nodded, a mouthful of pancakes and syrup. He chewed quickly before swallowing. “Sounds good.”
“Oh, and I have a parcel coming today. Can you just leave it on the side for when I get back?”
Marc nodded again, giving you a small smile. “No problem.”
You finish your breakfasts, talking about Marc’s plans for the day, which included a few errands he’d been neglecting (his favourite jumper had been at the dry cleaners for weeks; they’d rang him every other day trying to get him to collect it), and clearing up your plates. After you dressed for work and Marc was washing the dishes, you leave a kiss for Marc that made him want to drag you back to bed, intending to keep you there all day, but you managed to pull away from him with a giggle before telling him you would see him later, and you left for work.
Then he was left alone in your flat.
As he continued to do the dishes, the silence brought back the earlier anxiousness about the stupid holiday, causing his brow to furrow and his palms to become clammy. It was just a hallmark holiday, why was he getting soworked up about it? You hadn’t said anything to him about it, you both hadn’t even made plans to go out, so why was he panicking? Obviously, it must just be another day to you.
But what if you were expecting him to surprise you with something?
He shakes his head. No. You had no issues telling him what you wanted. You would have asked if he wanted to make plans.
Shaking his head, suddenly feeling angry with himself, leaving a bitter, acidic taste in his mouth, he abandons the remaining dishes, draining the water. Marc wipes his hands dry on a tea towel before looking around your kitchen, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. He needed to get out. A walk will do him some good…he needed to go to the dry cleaners anyway. He could pick up some stuff from the shop and make you dinner, just the two of you, in your flat. At least do something for Valentine’s Day.
Yeah, he’ll do that.
As he walks around the streets of London, seeing all the sickly red and pink hearts decorating the shop windows, he starts to wonder to himself; how the fuck he managed to have you. You could have had anyone, and you wanted to be with him. He was a mess, a broken man, he didn’t deserve good things, he didn’t deserve you.
It was almost as if he was on autopilot, making his way to the dry cleaners, where they gave him an earful about late collections (he paid the fee without saying a word), and he went to Tesco to pick up some ingredients, and just to top up your cupboards (he noticed you were running out of coffee and your favourite biscuits). He soon made it back to your flat, bags in hand, when he noticed a simple white package on the floor, the shape of a thin rectangle.
Shit. He’d forgotten about that. Thank God the postman could just slip it through your letterbox.
He puts the bags on the kitchen counters, tossing his dry cleaning over your dining table before picking up the package. He was about to toss it onto your side table when he noticed that it wasn’t addressed to you…it was addressed to him.
His brow furrowed. Why would he have something addressed to him go to your place?
He stared at the parcel. It didn’t feel heavy; actually, it barely weighed anything. But it must be something, since you asked him to take it in for you. Maybe it wasn’t for him, your autofill might have put in the wrong name when you ordered it. It was your property; he shouldn’t look at it.
He placed it down on the side table, before he started unpacking the shopping. Not long after, his phone vibrated, signalling a text (it could only be from you). He takes out his phone, before his brow furrowed reading it.
Did you like my gift?
Oh shit, it was for him then.
Marc glanced at the parcel again, then made his way over, picking it up. He shook it lightly, before he slowly opened it. He sauntered into the kitchen, before pausing at the gift, before snorting in amusement.
It was a milk chocolate bar, sprinkled with mini Reese’s Pieces and peanut M&Ms (his favourites), wrapped in clear film. In the centre, it had large, white writing, spread across:
You’re my forever fuck
Marc suddenly felt hot, his heart skipping a beat. You tell him all the time, how much he meant to you, how much you adored him, but he never could really believe it. He always thought you’d said it out of pity for him, but he couldn’t ignore his feelings for you. He knew it got you down, how he couldn’t be as expressive; he actually believed you hung the stars, that you were too good of a person for him.
He replayed the moments of tenderness shared between the two of you, each memory etched with the permanent mark of your love. Yet, despite the reassurances whispered in the stillness of nights shared with passion and pleasures, where your bodies danced together, Marc grappled with the notion that he might never measure up to the idealised image he held of you.
Amidst the turmoil of his thoughts, one truth remained steadfast: your presence illuminated the darkest corners of his soul, offering solace in a world full of evils and maliciousness. As Marc stood at the crossroads of his emotions, he yearned to bridge the chasm between his doubts and the faith you held in him.
And now you’ve expressed it in his favourite chocolates for Valentine’s Day, and it just made him fall in love with you more.
He grinned as he opened it, taking a bite and groaning as the chocolate melted in his mouth. It was damn good.
His phone vibrates again with another text from you. He merely sends a selfie back of him taking another bite, with the caption:
Delicious.
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