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ellecdc · 2 months

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Baaaaabe 😫

Ive been sick for the last couple days, and as always, that first day was horrible. Ive had my brain legit decide it wants to inflate bigger than my skull capacity (long story short, pregnancy 🫡) and i got to re-experience that feeling for the first 12 hours 💀

BUT i came back and i was sooo excited for your updates!! They were soo good (please tell me theres a part 2 to that angst....pls 🥺) And i love our discussions in the comments 🫶

I do have another request though if you have the time love. Another possessive!wolfstar buuuttt..... make reader Jamie's sister (twins?)!! Its troublesome enough for James to keep Sirius' hands to himself, but full moon Rem?? He's a brick wall. Like somethings happening between the 2 and Jamie is chasing reader, then she spots Rem and hides behind him. James tries to reach for her and Rem is just kinda like "???? Excuse me, thats mine. Dont touch. James Fleamont Potter. DONT. TOUCH." without even knowing whats going on. James is incredulous (because thats HIS sister) and Siri is chuckling but it looks like Rem might actually bite Jamie's hand off so he moves between them to seperate them but Rem is also like "ExCuSe YOU??? Also mine. *to siri* dont touch him. *to James* dont touch them or you might not have all your fingers when you wake up!!"

And just the repercussions of this where James isnt allowed alone with either until a couple days passed the 🌕

Hope youre looking after yourself darling 🩵

I love James' sister trope - something about it screams fluff and perhaps a little angst but just in all the best ways. I would imagine his sister to be so much like him: mischievous, funny, and full of love. Thanks for requesting!!!

poly!wolfstar x potter sister!reader

There were quite a few perks that came along with being James Potter's twin sister. One said perk was having a built-in best friend from the moment you came into the world. Another was that whilst you were attending school, you had the benefit of no one being willing to mess with you on account of the company you kept - namely, your brother and his infamous friends who called themselves The Marauders.

What being James Potter's twin sister couldn't protect you from? James Potter.

What could protect you from being James Potter's twin sister? Being the girlfriend of Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

You and James were leaving Care of Magical Creatures together, heading to meet up with Remus and Sirius near the Greenhouses when one Lily Evans walked by - graciously bestowing James the time of day for quite possibly the first time ever - when you decided that this was the perfect pranking opportunity.

You really couldn't be blamed for what happened next: it truly was a gift bestowed upon you by the great pranking gods, and who were you to deny it?

"Hello, Potter." Lily said, causing James to gasp dramatically.

"Hello, Lily! Beautiful day out today, innit?"

Lily couldn't help but snicker at the sickeningly wide grin that took over James' face.

"Oi, Jamie. I forgot to tell you: mum sent that rash cream you were asking for. She said to remind you it's only safe to put around your anus, not in it." You proclaimed loudly, pretending to read from a 'letter' your mother had sent.

The courtyard became incredibly quiet before what you recognized to be Barty Crouch Junior's laugh echoed the space, triggering the snickering of all those present.

"You are so dead!" James sneered and you didn't hesitate to take off in a sprint - knowing your brother was a mere few paces behind you.

"You slithering little snake! She finally starts coming around - are you kidding me!?" He shouted as you swerved between bodies standing in your way whilst he just barrelled right through them.

Suddenly, you saw salvation in the form of one Remus John Lupin.

Now, granted, Remus didn't always protect you from your squabbles with James. Part of the reason for that was because half of the time you sort of deserved it (much like today), and the other part was that he claimed he didn't know what proper protocol was in sibling relationships on account of him being an only child. Sirius, a brother himself, had no such qualms and always took your side.

However, you knew that the full moon was in a mere two more sleeps, meaning Remus was at his most protective (read: possessive) which did not distinguish James Potter as friend, sibling, nor pack.

Right now: James Potter was only a threat.

And, let's be honest, being James Potter's twin sister, and a girlfriend to Remus Lupin and Sirius black also meant you were mischievous as hell. So you had no trouble using this to your utmost advantage.

You squeaked in terror as you slid behind Remus' lanky frame a moment before James - the bastard - slammed into his form and all but bounced off of Remus. James was admittedly more muscular that Remus, but Remus' height and werewolf strength left him towering above James as the dumb sod picked himself up off the ground.

"What in the buggering hell is going on?" He spat at James as one of his arms wrapped behind him, shielding you from your fuming brother.

"That sneaky little witch just embarrassed me in front of Lily!" James barked, looking like he was still trying to figure out how to get around Remus in order to strangle you.

"Please," Sirius drawled as he walked over casually, "like you need any help in that department Prongs."

You tried to hide your snicker, but from Remus' glance at you through the corner of his eye, you knew he caught it.

"She told the entire courtyard I needed cream for a rash on my anus!"

Sirius doubled over in laughter and you preened when you noticed Remus let out a soft chuckle himself.

"It's not sodding funny you wanker! Lily spoke to me first today! I'm going to kill you!" James snarled, moving his attention from Sirius to you.

As James stepped forward menacingly, Remus grabbed the collar of his shirt. "Prongs, enough." He barked.

Sirius was still laughing when he moved to stand between Remus and James, releasing James' shirt from Remus' fist.

"Okay, down boy." Sirius snarked, patting James' shoulder consolingly.

"Oh, sod off." James muttered, elbowing Sirius as he moved to step away.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding and tried to even out your breathing; lungs still burning from your run.

"You okay, dove?" Remus asked you so gently as he bent down to make eye contact with you. His face screamed love, attentiveness, and care, making you feel slightly guilty for having shoved him in the middle of your tom foolery.

"I'm fine, Moons. Sorry for causing trouble." You answered solemnly.

His face picked up slightly at your words as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You wouldn't be you if you weren't causing trouble, love."

Your tender moment was interrupted by a yelp, causing the two of you to turn only to notice James and Sirius wrestling. James seemed to have gotten Sirius into a headlock, and the sod wasn't willing to tap out - still kicking and clawing at James in anyway he could.

"Oi!" Remus shouted as he plucked Sirius out of James' grasp and shoved him in the direction of the castle. James used his momentary distraction as an opportunity to set his sights back on you as he lunged, tackling you to the ground.

"Fuckin' hell Jamie! You weight a tonne!" You shouted, kneeing him in the gut. James doubled over and rolled onto his side in the fetal position.

You didn't even get a chance to right yourself before you were thrown over Remus' shoulder who was still shouting at Sirius to "get back to the dorm. The both of you are staying within my sights for the next foreseeable future" as you all left James with the wind knocked out of him, keeled over on the castle grounds.

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write4cench · 9 months

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chicken shop date.

had to make this into a imagine.

summary: you get the chance to interview central cee on your show titled "chicken shop date" but he's obviously into you. sorry to ameila dimoldenburg lmao.

pairings: central cee x reader

genre: fluff / slightly suggestive

word count: 2k (unedited)

a/n: imagine that ameila dimoldenburg doesn't exist for the whole sake of the plot. i stole most of her iconic replies though. thank you and GIVE ME REQUESTS. <3

finally. you've got a special guest on for today that's been a fan of your show for a long time and well.. you. although, you haven't had the pleasure of meeting one another in reality, but luckily he agreed to have a chicken shop date with you.

central cee.

you both sit down behind a table in a small yet cosy morleys, the camera crew sets up and prepares for the show whilst a small yet not too large crowd accumulates outside the shop at sight of you two.

you greet central cee and he beams back at you as you both get comfortable and prepare for the small interview/date. "it's nice to have you on the show." you thank him.

"it's calm, i've always wanted to be here." he responds, insisting that it really isn't truly that big of a deal.

you won't lie to yourself, you've always found central cee to be attractive ever since he happened to become a uk rap sensation. i mean who hasn't. you're excited and feel as if it's a blessing to sit before him.

"i actually watch this show too, i saw your interview with burna boy." he admits, referencing the last interview i held about a month ago.

my mouth agapes as i feel honoured to the fact that he actually took the chance to watch my show, "really?" you ask him out of disbelief and he nods proudly.

you'd admit, you'd thought it would be awkward to hold an interview with central cee considering the fact that he hasn't been too shy about the fact that you're considered his celebrity crush but surprisingly, he's very comforting to be around and is down-to-earth.

"i mean obviously you watch my interviews." you joke referencing to his interest in you and he laughs, not denying it at all.

the interview begins.

"what would you say your type is." you ask him and he pauses for a moment thinking to himself before he breaks into a smile. you notice this and furrow your brows confused.

"i like.. i like-" he starts.

"why're you smiling?" you question him confused, although it's an obvious inside joke with the two of you and everyone else that his type is clearly you.

"i don't really know my type, it changes innit it changes by the season." he denies the obvious making me roll my eyes, he sees this and it only makes him laugh.

"well it's winter." you tell him.

"i want my girl to be able to teach me something." he says, before he glares directly at you. you don't let it faze you and you continue to play along with your passive aggressive humour.

"i know a lot, i could teach you something." you joke and he shrugs raising his brows impressed.

"i guess your my type then." he mumbles, his eyes glancing away towards his box of chips and chicken wings.

"what's your favourite tattoo you have?" you question him before eating on one of your chips, central cee listens carefully to you.

"i'm just one big tattoo and the moment, i don't really, i don't know- it's all just blended into one." he rambles as he thinks to himself looking over his clothed arms and chest.

you find him adorable especially his way of speaking, "i like them." you compliment him and something behind his eyes reads pleased.

"thanks."

it's obvious that he's clearly into you, everything from the way that he looks at you, the way he listens carefully whenever you speak and the way that he sits.

you try your best to not make the episode seem like to serious of a date, but with him sitting in front of you, it seems completely impossible.

"i'm not sure how i feel about face tattoos." you mutter, hinting to the small tattoos that decorate his face, he slightly frowns.

"really?"

"would you get another one?" you ask him curiously and he hums thinking to himself.

"maybe not after you said that." he utters jokingly sadly and you both share a short moment of laughter.

"i was joking."

"how long does it take for you to fall in love?"

your question clearly doesn't fall onto interested ears, as a matter of a fact central cee obviously doesn't favour the word love at all.

"i don't know if i've fallen in love before." he admits with a smile to hide how suddenly deep the conversation has gotten.

"you've never fallen in love?" you ask him genuinely surprised.

"no, no- i guess so. i have a weird outlook on love." he responds before pausing looking at you. you ask him to continue on. "i just think it's a delusion innit."

you raise your brows at his response finding it different from your views, "like what, it isn't real?"

"i've been thinking about it a lot recently.. because yeah it's on my mind anyway." he starts finding an interest in the unopened water bottle that lies on the table between you.

"feel like you just have to be a bit deluded."

"that don't mean it isn't real." your response has him in lost of words and he glances about the place before shrugging in response. "i think when you fall in love you'll know." your words make you both share a gaze for a moment before he breaks it, thinking to himself.

"i mean, what if your girl fucks around and it makes your belly hurt, i dunno if that's a good conation on love." he confesses and he notices how it makes you smile.

"maybe that's just what love means to you."

"you've got long hair?" you question him.

"my hair is long." he replies his face looking slightly miserable.

"would you ever take it out of the sock it's always in." you joke and he laughs before he hums thinking of his next words.

"i dunno, i feel like i'm going through a bit of an identity crisis at the moment." he admits, and you hum in reply.

"i like long hair." you smile and he sees so before grinning.

"guess, i'll keep it then." he glances away again.

he's just like a little school boy who's gotten the chance to speak with his crush for the first time. it's cute.

"do i look like i'm hot, like my face is hot." you question him using your hands to fan your face and he shakes his head.

"you're fine." he starts glancing over at your face, "i like it though, it's like natural blush."

"stop flirting with me."

"it's cute." he mumbles gazing at you.

"i'm really bad at flirting." he sighs to himself rubbing his head deep in thought, you furrow your brows in disbelief.

"what do you mean you're bad at flirting?"

"yeah, i'm just shit at flirting, i can't flirt man."

"so what, you don't get with a lot of girls all the time?" he hurries to deny and shake his head, but you only listen to him curiously.

"you're telling me you don't go out with anyone?" you raise his brow and he watches you do so, hurrying to think of his next words.

"no, maybe i do go out sometimes, it's not like i'll go out of my way to do so." he tells you and you hum. "i've just lived a long life." he mumbles making you laugh at how deep it sounds.

"would you go out with me?" your questions sparks his attention and he chuckles to himself at how straight forward it is.

"i'll see."

"this is like a genuine date to me." he says as he opens up with bottle of chilled water, "like i'm genuinely here it's a dinner.. date."

you smile at him as you recall the times he's wanted to go on a date with your for ages, "you've wanted to go on a date with me for ages." you tell him and he smiles.

"i did want to go on a date with you, before my carrer flourished then i got overwhelmed not looking for love it was like a full circle."

"now you're on a date with me." you say proudly and he nods.

"finally." he glares at you and something about it catches you aback, he's really trying to full on flirt with you.

"are you single?" he raises his brow at your question.

"i mean yeah, obviously." he begins laying back into his seat, "i mean otherwise, i wouldn't be here."

"i'm single too." you imply reaffirming him but he doesn't say anything beside humming taking your word.

"what's the quickest way to get to your heart." you ask him, the phrase makes him irk and he frowns.

"don't try to get to my heart." he tells you and you listen to him. "i just think, i don't like girls that like me." he mumbles

"i hate you."

he laughs at your playfulness, "turns me on, i love it."

"guess i'll hate you from now on." you mutter lowly, but he still hears it.

"what's the most romantic thing you've ever done?" you ask him, but learning so much about him you already expect a specific response from him.

"i'm hopeless, i dunno i'm transitioning, this is all hard for me." he rants and you exhale deeply.

"too bad, it's all hard for you."

"it's easier said than done."

"you have a nice smile." you compliment him and he smiles looking at you.

"you're really pretty you know." he responds making you feel your cheeks slightly warm up.

"and you don't know how to flirt?" you frown but he shrugs once again. how can he not understand that he's literally a walking flirt.

"guess you'll teach me then." he glances at you in a suggestive way and you grin as you recall telling him you'll teach him something.

"it was nice talking to you, i'll c you later." you joke and he laughs getting your play on words.

"love and leave me."

"what do you mean love and leave me?"

"like i'll love you and leave you."

"what about love and love me?"

he closes his box gazing at you. "sounds good."

"what's that song you have with pinkpantheress called?" you question him and he shuffles in his seat before responding.

"obsessed with you."

"yeah i know, tell me the song's name." he mentally groans at the word obsessed and you feel the urge to roll your eyes again.

"i don't think i'm the obsessed type." he complains.

"i feel like secretly you are." you tell him implying his obvious celebrity crush on you and he smiles understanding you.

"maybe i am, but i dunno yet."

"i feel like you're the type to catch feelings and get obsessed." he listens to you nodding his head passively aggressively.

"maybe i'm a simp you know." he utters and you both share a gaze with one another before laughing.

"can i get your number, or something?" he asks you taking out his phone from his pocket and passing it towards you.

you blink at his phone for a moment before looking up at him, only to see him watching you expectantly.

you take it from him without a word before typing in your number and adding your contact name followed by a sweet emoji before passing it back to him with a smile.

he glances down at the name and laughs upon noticing the emoji you put before testing it out and calling the number.

your phone buzzes from inside of your pocket and you show it him making him grin with a nod, "i'll call you later yeah, pick up." he tells you and suddenly the tension within the room has changed into hinting something sexual.

"course, i'll pick up." you reply.

"alright."

#central cee #central cee x reader #central cee imagines #central cee smut #cench #centralceeedit #cenchxreader #central cee fluff #central cee x you #central cee imagine

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penelopepine · 16 days

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Little Purple Stars

Part 1 Part 2

Ghost x FemReader x Soap

Content: Soulmate AU, fluff, no angst

Everyone had a soulmate; whether that connection was platonic or romantic was entirely up to those involved. Some people even had multiple soulmates, like you did, which wasn’t that uncommon. It happens whenever a person turns 20 yrs old. They are suddenly able to draw on themselves, and have the picture appear on the skin of your soulmate.

You had two soulmates; one of them rarely ever drew on themselves, and if they did it was only with a black pen. Usually said drawing would also be a little black heart next to something that you or your other soulmate drew. You’ve always called this soulmate, Moon.

On the other hand soulmate number two, or Sun as you called them, was much more open and was constantly drawing little doodles all over themselves.

Sun and Moon; basic maybe, but you’ve always felt that it fits them perfectly.

It was your third time entering the Olympics and you couldn’t be more excited. You’re first year you unfortunately didn’t place, second year you won the bronze, and this year you were aiming for the gold. Most of all though, win or lose you hoped that by the end of today you will have made contact with your soulmates.

While getting ready for today you had drawn little stars in various shades of purple around your eyes, making them resemble freckles. Drawing on your face was generally frowned upon, but when events that are going to be televised all around the world exceptions are made.

You tried to give them a hint to watch the Olympics today by drawing the Olympics rings and a TV, but realistically you knew there was no way they could watch the entirety of the broadcast. Even if they did turn it on they could very easily miss your appearance. The only thing you could do now was hope that the two individuals with matching purple stars were watching.

Ghost watched as every little star slowly appeared on Soap's face knowing that his face looked the same only that the stars on his face were covered by the mask. It wasn’t until Gaz walked in the office as well and asked about them did Soap even know they were there.

“What do you mean I have stars?”

“Yeah on your face,” Gaz pulls out his phone and quickly takes a photo before showing it to the Scot.

“You knew they were there and you weren’t going to say anything?” Soap turns to face Ghost with a playful grin, “Well now you gotta take off the mask; I can’t be the only one walking around here with star freckles.”

“In your dreams MacTavish.”

Gaz chuckles at the two of them before he sits down in an empty seat, “So I know you didn’t do this,” pointing to Soap, “and you definitely didn’t do this. Can I ask why lucky number three decided to do this?” Directing his question towards the lieutenant.

“I assume it has something to do with the Olympics.”

“Aye, they drew that symbol yesterday didn’t they. I guess that was their way of giving us a warning for this; must be for some kind of watch party,” Soap guessed.

“Sounds like my kind of party, the ice skaters are performing in just a bit and I don’t plan to miss it.” Gaz holds his phone showing them the Olympic broadcast already up on his phone before popping in one of his earbuds.

“I didn’t take you for someone who would enjoy watching figure skating; all it is is watching people move on the ice innit?” Ghost questions, he’s never had any interest in the Olympics before. It was never something he had time to sit down and watch.

“We can go to an ice skating rink ourselves, and watch Soap try to skate if you want to watch more chaotic skating.”

“Oi, I didn’t even say anything, don’t go dragging me into this!”

“You were gonna say something and that’s enough for me!”

“Yeah yeah whatever,” Soap turns back to the paperwork he had been working on, “I’d like to see you try and skate. Let’s see who’s laughing then.”

The men chuckle to themselves and all of them focus on items in their hands. It wouldn’t be until an hour had passed that the silence amongst them was broken.

Gaz’s sudden gasp drew both Ghost and Soap’s attention to him.

“What happened mate; a skater fell down?” Ghost asks with slight amusement in his voice. He couldn’t imagine himself getting this worked up over anything as simple as ice skating. Continuing to watch as Gaz doesn’t say anything; simply sitting in his seat with his mouth slightly hung open.

“Gaz?” Soap questions as he steps towards him.

Very suddenly Gaz shoots up and steps towards him as well, grabbing Soap’s face once he is close enough. Holding up his phone and looking frantically between the two.

“Aye, wha’ the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Soap swats Gaz’s hand away from his face, “Didn’t your mum ever teach you about personal space.”

“Look!”

Soap focusing on Gaz’s phone to see what had the man so worked up. On the screen was a woman dressed in purple elegantly dancing on the ice, but what really caught his attention was the fact that she too had purple star freckles on her face; ones that matched his perfectly. “Oh fuck; Ghost!”

Ghost couldn’t believe what he was seeing for a moment. They had finally found their missing piece. Watching her dance and spin on ice he suddenly understood why people would enjoy watching this. She looks ethereal.

Looking at Soap he sees an awestruck look in his eyes. He won’t admit but the stars are quite cute on him; on both of them. How on earth did he end up with these two incredibly beautiful and talented people as his soulmates?

Later all three men are huddled together over the phone watching the award ceremony. The room had gotten embarrassingly loud when it became clear that you had won; Price had charged into the room asking them what had them all yelling for. He had luckily understood when the situation was explained by a sheepish soap, who was definitely making the most noise out of everyone. He was quick to get his energy back though once Price had left the room.

“We have to let the lass know we know we saw her!” Soap rushes to the desk pulling out multi colored pens; waving them towards Ghost.

You had done it! You had really done it; the gold was yours! Standing on the first place podium next to the other medalist you couldn’t help but wonder if your soulmates are watching you. You hope they were proud of you if they had seen your performance.

Trying to subtly check any exposed skin for any kind of sign or acknowledgement that you had been seen, and to your great delight you had been. The sun and moon had found their star.

There on your wrist was a drawing of a gold medal and right next to it was a little black heart.

They had seen you, they knew who you were. That thought both excited and terrified you. The only thing to do now was wait for them to show themselves; to find you.

Stepping down from the podium, and making your way off the ice you give your wrist a kiss and wave towards the cameras.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #x reader #fem reader #soulmates #john soap mctavish x reader

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peterman-spideyparker · 1 year

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Celebrate (Marc Spector x fem!Reader, Steven Grant x fem!Reader, Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! So, I have had this done for a while and just never posted, so better late than never, amirite? And besides, we can all always use more Oscar Isaac and the Moon Boys in our lives. Enjoy! :)

Summary: The boys realize that they've never celebrated your birthday with you, despite being with you for well over a year and you celebrating their birthday. When they find out when it is, nothing will stop them from giving you a birthday for the record books.

Warning: Fluff (established couple with all the Moon Boys, super sweet affection, kisses, a very important question), angst (negative emotions about birthdays), implied smut

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 3,348

Steven, Marc, and Jake love you. They loves everything about you, from how you talk, to how you have a ‘lucky’ something for every category of item you own, to how big your heart is. But there is one thing about you that particularly irks them.

In the year and a half that you have been together with them, they has yet to find out when your birthday is. For all they knows, they could have missed it twice! Hell, you’ve remembered theirs twice and have done incredibly loving things for both.

They have tried everything—Steven even tried to sneak a peak at your license once, but turned out to be in a different wallet. Steven only knew his lack of knowledge wasn’t by virtue of him not trying extremely hard, because Marc and Jake couldn’t find out either.

Jake enjoyed playing around with the fantasy that you were a secret spy or assassin who stepped away from the action to lead a normal, quiet life. Steven and Marc were ready to quickly dismiss it when they remembered that they served as an avatar for the Egyptian God of the moon. In all honesty, there was a chance that Jake could be right.

“Did you know that in Ancient Egypt, Pharaohs didn’t celebrate birthdays on the actual day?” Steven asks as he hands you a dish from the suds. “They celebrated their coronation day since it was when they were born into the role of ruler.”

“Interesting,” you respond as you use the towel to dry the plate.

“It’s a bit sad, though, innit? That other people didn’t celebrate their birthdays. It wasn’t a common thing.”

“Well, I mean, I guess people make a big deal out of birthdays and place a lot of pressure on them. Maybe the Egyptians had it right.”

“But it’s an important day, you know? Someone fantastic was brought to the world, that’s worth celebratin’.”

You have a feeling you know what he’s getting at. You choose to remain quiet.

“You’re worth celebratin’, (Y/N).”

You feel tears sting at your eyes, and you suck in your bottom lip to prevent yourself from crying.

“Why haven’t you told us when your birthday is?” he pleads softly.

You dip your head and shrug. “My birthday . . . I don’t know,” you mutter. “I have a lot of mixed feelings about it, and I don’t know how to say them without sounding whiny.”

Steven tilts your chin up with a sudsy finger so your eyes lock onto his.

“We’re all ears,” he says tenderly.

You let out a sigh, but Steven’s finger refuses to let your gaze leave his.

“No matter how old I got or whatever new friends I made, my friends and colleagues and even my exes always forgot my birthday. I always made it a point to remember theirs, get a gift, a card, whatever, because—it’s the friggin’ day they’re born! And then I always had these small, wistful expectations there’d be something done for me like a surprise, but it was always nothing. Once I got into my college years, I’d have these hopes and expectations of what I’d have done by that birthday, and most of them never came true. My ‘have a first kiss’ goal was deferred for eight years until I was 25.” You close your eyes and give your head a little shake. “I’m just always disappointed by my birthday with other people and myself. Never a real reason to celebrate.”

Steven dries his hands and wipes away yours tears with the pads of his thumb as he pulls you in for a loving hug.

“Will you tell us when your birthday is, love?” Steven whispers into your hair. “Please?”

Unable to resist his tender embrace, you tell him the date, and he pulls back to scan your face. “That’s Thursday,” he states.

“Yeah,” you nod. “It is.”

You don’t expect him to cradle your face in his hands while he kisses you deeply. “Boy, do we have some idea’s stewin’ in our brain,” he beams as he gives you another kiss. “And you know what? Since I missed it last year, you’re gonna have a half-birthday celebration that is gonna knock your knickers right off of you.”

“My knickers?” you laugh, your hurt feelings quickly leaving your body.

Steven whistles and moves his hand like a plane to emphasize the absolute absence of panties you’ll have before he hops up and rubs his hands together in excitement.

“Oh,” he says as he holds up a finger. “This is why we couldn’t figure out your birthday, right? You’re not secretly a spy or assassin?”

You laugh at the implication, the sadness rolling off of your body. “Jake’s idea?”

Steven nods.

“Well, I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. And then there’s the issue of getting rid of the body, and we’re on the fifth floor—.”

“See, I know you’re jokin’, but part of me is actually a little spooked right now,” Steven says.

“No, hon. I’m not a spy,” you giggle, moving to kiss his cheek and push his curly hair back. “Sorry to disappoint Jake.”

Steven breathes a sigh of relief and dips his head as you hold onto him. "Oh, thank the gods!"

You’re vaguely aware of the shifting on your mattress as you continue to enjoy a cozy slumber under the comforter with your head on the pillows. After a bit, you feel another shift on the mattress along with the warmth of another body whose smell you know all too well.

“Happy birthday, my love,” Steven whispers with a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You let out a tired moan as you roll into Steven’s body, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying your face into his chest as you try to pull yourself back into a deep sleep.

“Come now, I’ve made you your favorite. And I have a nice big mugga mornin’ Joe with your name on it,” he encourages.

You unbury your head slightly, looking up at him with still heavy eyes. He smiles as he looks down at you, kissing your forehead.

“I knew if the kisses didn’t do it, the coffee would,” he chuckles.

As you sit up in bed, Steven twists his torso and places a breakfast tray on your lap, presenting you with waffles, fresh cut fruit, and veggie sausage.

“Thank you, hon,” you tell him, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Anythin’ for the birthday girl,” he hums, placing a kiss on your neck that sends goosebumps throughout your body. “I still wish you could’ve taken the day off.”

“Trust me, if I didn’t have these big meetings, I’d probably just stay in bed with you three.”

“Don’t give Jake any ideas—he’d find a way to make those meetings cancelled,” Steven chuckles, stealing a strawberry for himself. You know there’s nothing particularly aphrodisic or phallic about a strawberry, but watching Steven’s lips move around the red fruit and how his tongue licks away the juice sends your head spinning. Steven catches you looking at him and smirks. “Yes, love?”

“Oh, nothing,” you blush as you move to take a bite of the waffles in front of you.

“Mm, likely story,” he hums as he licks his lips once more, bringing his lips to your pulse point for a chaste kiss.

“I don’t know that I’m gonna be able to finish these, hon,” you chuckle as you take a closer look at the stack. “You made eight?”

“I’ve seen you devour a stack of waffles with no issue before.”

“Yeah, on a weekend where I don’t have to go do a full day of work later.”

“Then lucky for you, I am here to help,” he smiles, stealing your fork to snatch a bite of waffles for himself. “Bloody hell, I’m a good cook.”

We continue to sit in bed and eat the fluffy breakfast food until you have to get ready for work. As you fix your hair in the bathroom, Steven takes care of the dishes; he finishes drying them as you move from the bathroom to put on your clothes. As you slide on your sweater, Steven shuffles into the bedroom.

“Let me walk you to work today?” he whispers as he lifts out the hair tucked into the collar of your sweater.

“I want to say yes, but then I wouldn’t want to go in or have you leave,” you respond just as quietly. “Especially after a morning like this one. It’d be the bed predicament on the sidewalk.”

Steven brings his lips to yours slowly as you wrap your arms around his waist. The kiss is tender and lazy, much like how you wish you could spend the day with one another. Steven lets out a defeated sigh as his lips part from yours, resting his forehead against yours.

“Text me when you get there?” he asks as his fingers play with your hair.

“Of course,” you tell him. "Love you."

Steven hands you your purse, letting you adjust it on your shoulder before he places more quick kisses on your lips, murmuring a "Love you more," as you attempt to make it out the door.

“What?” you chuckle as you put your purse on the table by the door. Jake is leaning on the kitchen table like a puppy that needs to be let out.

“I can’t wait for my girlfriend to do part two of her birthday?” Jake smirks as he suavely moves over from the wooden surface and meets you at the door, his hands on your waist as he plants a passionate kiss on your lips.

“And what would part two be, exactly?” you smile as you bite your lip, keeping them just out of reach of his so you don’t spend the rest of the night making out in the kitchen—although, you wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“I can’t give away all of the details, mi corazón. Now, go to the bedroom, put on what’s laid out, and then we’ll go to part two.”

You smirk at him and scrunch your eyebrows playfully as you try to figure out what he has planned. You do as he asks, nonetheless. Lying on the bed, you see a beautiful sky blue satin dress with an asymmetrical hemline and silver strappy heels. You slide on the dress and it fits like a glove—so much like a glove, you can see the line of your underwear underneath the fabric. Lightly chuckling to myself, you slide off your panties and take off your bra. Usually, you’d be opposed to going full commando, but when you see yourself in the mirror, everything looks better—the dress was made to be worn on your body without undergarments. You slide on the heels to finish off the look and quickly comb your hair to revitalize it from the day. When you meet Jake back in the living room, he licks his lips and smirks as he looks at you, giving you bedroom eyes as you move closer to him.

“Now will you tell me what we’re doing?” you coo as you run your hands up and down his chest.

“No,” he smiles as he pulls you in for a searing kiss, squeezing your ass for scientific reasons, you’re sure.

“You’re not wearing anything underneath this, are you?” he breathes against your lips.

“Not a stitch,” you hum as you move his hands off your rear, taking a step back and opening the door with your things in hand. “Lead the way, Lockley.”

He gives you a bedroom smirk and mutters a string of Spanish curses and erotic notions under his breath—something about not realizing how sexy you’d look and what he’d rather be doing to you.

“Don’t worry, babe, I think all of you boys will be able to do those kinds of things later,” you assure him as you pull him down by his tie for a kiss. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Not when vice looks as good as you in satin.”

Jake captures your lips in a passionate and lusty kiss that still maintains an air of chastity to it—his mind on the mission of the surprise, but his heart veering towards your shared bed.

“Come on, cariño,” he rasps as he takes your hand and leads you out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“I don’t even get a hint?” you try again as you walk along the sidewalk.

“Tell me what you think we’re doing.”

“Really? Twenty questions on my birthday?”

“Play along,” he chuckles.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically as you lace your fingers with his. “It’s definitely somewhere fancy?”

“Is it, though?”

“I’m dressed to the nines. I don’t see how it can’t be somewhere fancy.”

“Or I wanted to show you off.”

“Okay,” you say, processing Jake’s cheeky remark, thinking of all the possibilities. “Well, dinner would be too obvious, so it clearly can’t be that.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “Come on, cariño, I thought you knew me better than this.”

“Ouch, gut punch!” you say, poking at it side. “I’m still thinking. You are an expert at being sneaky, I’m trying to process my options.”

“Well, you should come up with one soon. We’re almost there.”

Knowing the area, you scan through all the storefronts you can bring to your mind, when something clicks with your ensemble.

“Jake Lockley, are you taking me dancing?” you hum as you look over to him, his eyes sparkling in the dim London light.

“It took you long enough to figure it out,” he chuckles as he guides you to the left into a little courtyard that is all done up where other couples are waiting to start the lessons. “We’re gonna put those hips of yours to a different kind of work. Just for a short while, at least.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything fun or culinary up my sleeves,” Marc says as the two of you walk hand in and through the quiet park, the path lit by beautiful old street lamps.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” you tell him. “I know how much effort you all put into today. It’s nice to wrap it all up with dinner and a little stroll.”

A gentle breeze begins to pick up, and Marc immediately shrugs off his bomber jacket to place on your shoulders. You want to protest, but you love having things that he wears on your body—the warmth form his frame, the smell of his skin and cologne, the silent gesture of love.

“Thanks, baby,” you tell him softly as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Did you have a good day today?” he asks, matching your tone. “I know you mentioned your meetings—.”

“Yeah, the meetings from hell,” you sigh as you roll your neck, the mere thought of them bringing tension to your body. “Not only could they all have been emails, but they were ridiculously long and were so unproductive that we knew less by the end than we did at the start. Debbie led both.”

“Oh no, not Debbie.”

“Mmhm. Don’t get me started with that one.” You let out a long sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “But it’s all worth it, because I get to come home to an amazing system of men who love me.”

He rests his cheek on top of your head. “We love you, too, baby.”

“How about we go home and take a bath? Wind down from the day. Get naked and wet together.”

“Mm, two of my favorite adjectives.”

“Maybe we can add some other adjectives you like to that mix,” you chuckle, lightly checking his hip with yours.

Taking a turn off the path of the park, you hop on the sidewalk and make the short walk back to the flat, snuggling close in the old elevator as it drags its way up to the top floor.

“You want me to put on a kettle for tea or coffee or something?” you hum as you unlock the door, tossing your keys into the dish as you make your way in. “Or are we going to save all the warm water for—what are you doing?”

In your living room, Marc is perched down on one knee, a little open box in his hands as he looks up at me with his rich brown eyes.

“We were actually gonna do this next week,” Marc starts, his voice soft, the edges brimming with emotion. “But we thought this might be a really great way to end your birthday.”

“Baby . . .”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I need to begin to tell you how much we all love you. If I did, we’d be here for a hell of a long time, I’d loose feeling in my legs from the knee down, and you’d offer to help me walk over to the bed, just like how you are always there to help me and Steven and Jake with whatever comes up. You see us as whole people. You make us feel whole. You have the biggest, most caring heart that a person can have, and you love so selflessly . . .” Marc sniffles and furrows his brows as he tries to keep his cool. You take a few steps toward him, kneeling down and wiping his tears away with your thumbs.

“Marc,” you say softly, his name on your tongue dripping with emotions.

“We can’t imagine our lives without you in it, and we never want to,” Marc continues. “Will you marry us?”

“Of course,” you practically sob, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. He holds you back just as firm, neither of you saying a word. Marc is the one who eventually breaks the embrace, moving to take out the ring out of the box to slide it on your finger slowly.

“It’s a pink sapphire, but it looks purple, and you love purple—,” Marc starts.

“—and gold jewelry looks so lovely on your skin, cariño—,” Jake continues.

“—and it’s a vintage settin’ so there’s no ill-environmental effects,” Steven finishes. “Happy birthday, my love.”

“You guys are sure?” you sniffle, your teary eyes frantically scanning their faces. “Are you sure you guys love me? That this is what you want?”

“Mi corazón, where is this coming from?” Jake asks softly, brushing tears off of your cheek. “Of course this is what we want. We’ve never felt this way about anyone before. We only want you, amore.”

“It just doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream.”

“It’s very real, love,” Steven says, gentle hands on your shoulders as he leans forward to place a sweet kiss on your forehead. “And you already said yes—there’s no take-backs.”

You let out a wet laugh as you move back in to kiss Steven—he always knows just what to say to bring a smile to your face.

“Well, I guess if there’s no take backs.”

As Steven leans forward to kiss you again, and you feel distinct shift just before we part, and you’re met once more with Marc.

“Is it still a yes?” he asks carefully.

“Of course it’s still a yes. I’ve got the three best guys in the world—why wouldn’t I want to make it official?”

Marc smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen in your life. He leans forward to kiss you once more, his arms wrapping around you tightly and picks you up, much to your surprise. The two of you continue to kiss as he walks you to the bed and lays you down on the mattress, only briefly parting from you to brush some stray hairs off of your face.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers, his forehead resting on yours, allowing you to feel his eyelashes brush your cheeks.

“I love you all so much,” you whisper. “Thank you for choosing me.”

Marc gingerly kisses the tip of your nose. “Forever and always.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother @hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione

Marc Spector/Steven Grant Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @later-gators12

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lovingmayday · 10 months

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

warnings : fluff, cursing, innacurate-ish depictions of hobie's speech

notes : hobie is about 16-17 here (and so is the pov). halfway writing this, im overwhelmed by how much of an extrovert hobie actually is 😭 btw, i know nothing of classical music concerts so beware! all of this just because i wanted to write hobie sneaking in your window but i didnt even get to fit it in 😭😭

Two words that you've used as an excuse and an apology when you couldn't join your friends at house parties, when a classmate asks you out, or when your phone notifications go crazy because you still weren't home at 5 PM — it was a tiring cycle.

You know they were simply looking out for you but you can't help but feel overwhelmed and exhausted for always being monitored and left out. You couldn't possibly ask your peers to adjust to your parents' standards, you thought it shameless because they already had a hard time with your folks reaching out and interrogating them about your school and social life.

With so much of your life being tracked by them, you deserve at least one thing in your control, right?

Hobie Brown, the school troublemaker. Skips class, vandalizes school property, and actively participates in movements against authority. Frankly, he just does whatever he wants. And he had your respect (+ jealousy). It must've been nice to be so free.

You and Hobie were never given the chance to befriend each other before — you had some classes together but he rarely ever showed up to any of them. You had no reason to approach him and vice versa.

Until, Wednesday — your cello performance. God, you don't know why you insisted to your parents you could handle commuting to the concert venue on your own with the heavy as fuck cello slung around your torso. You had your book bag with you as well because you had just finished school. The bus stop was a few more blocks away but you were tired.

You weren't paying much attention to your surroundings, busy focusing on your aching shoulder. So once you saw the pedestrian lane green signal, you didn't think twice before walking, failing to notice the bicycle riding full speed to your direction. Your eyes widen when a strong force pulled you back, making you stumble a bit and see the bike dart just in front of you.

"Aye, watch it!" you hear the cyclist exclaim.

You back was leaning against the tall figure, looking up to see a familiar face. You regain your balance and face him — Hobie Brown, the boy that just saved your life. "I-It was green– green meant it was safe to walk... I should've looked first, 'm sorry," you say quietly.

"Nah yeah, it's straight. He was the arse," he replies, hands in his pockets. "Dunno where he got the audacity to tell you off when he was in the wrong. Don't worry abou' it." He gives you a reassuring smile, noticing your still dazed expression.

"Thank you, Hobie," you say, a small polite smile on your lips.

He smiles back and nods, "'Twas nothin'." His eyes hover on the unignorable instrument case you were carrying. "Ya headed somewhere?"

"Uhh, yeah," you say, watching the pedestrian stop light turn red again and pouting a bit. You probably won't be late to the performance but you'd miss most of final rehearsal. "Nueva Hall. I have a cello performance in a bit."

"Nueva Hall.. That fuckin' massive, fancy lookin' museum along 5th Ave?" he asks, his eyebrows rising a bit from amazement. "Didn't know you were a big shot musician. Let me get for ya, then." He swings the case from your torso and starts walking across the street before you could protest.

"Hey!" you exclaim, running after him, dodging the other pedestrians walking past you.

"It's a bit distant from here, innit? Let me take you there, I got time. Wouldn't want you to croak before the big show," he jests, turning around and walking backwards. "If it's fine with you, [Name], of course."

You weren't too keen on traveling alone; you only did so so that your parents would think you were independent enough. You consider it for a few moments. "Are you sure I wouldn't be bothering you with this?"

"'Course not. 'Was the one who suggested, wasn't I?" He smirks before turning back around to walk properly and you catch up to his side. "What're you playin'?"

"Tchaikovsky, Rococo Variation. It's a cello and orchestra performance and I got to play cello," you say excitedly. "You're in a band, right? It's like a lead singer but cello!"

He smiles softly at your energy, feeling his cheeks warm up a bit. "How'd you know I was in a band?" he asks almost teasingly.

"I walked by one of your public concerts with my family. I would've stayed if my parents let me," you answer with a small laugh. "You were amazing, by the way."

"Thanks, mate. You're probably not too bad yourself," he says, chuckling as you playfully hit his shoulder.

It was safe to say you hit it off well, which was surprising since you didn't think you would. You thought your personalities would clash, you being at the quieter side while Hobie, you could hear his ruckus from another dimension (and there was a tiny part of you that was intimidated at him, at first).

You arrived at the venue earlier than expected — still late to rehearsals but not by much. "Hey, thanks again. I really appreciate it," you say to him just outside the concert hall doors.

He handed you your cello and waved off your thank you. "It was a pleasure," he teases and you roll your eyes. "Break a leg, [Name]." You thank him once again before he turns around to leave.

Seeing him walk away gave you an unfamiliar ache in your chest. After a much needed self-courage-boost, you let out a soft but loud enough "Wait." for him to hear. He turns around with a small smile and raises an eyebrow, silently asking you to go on. You wet your lips before taking a deep breathe. "Do you want to stay for the show?"

His smile widens, a handsome grin reaching ear to ear. "Finally. 've been waitin' the entire trip for that offer." He laughs and jogs back to you.

He sits at the back row. When he entered the room, he got a few stares and hushed whispers from the other audiences but he couldn't care less, his attention was unwaveringly stuck on you. It was just rehearsals but it overwhelmed Hobie to think about how you'd do in the real thing. He was entranced by you the entire time. The movement of your bow and the emotions you protrayed. It was magnetic.

Once practice was over, the musicians left the stage for a bit as audiences started to pour in. With guests on the older side with more formal attires, it was so obvious that he was out of place.

Meanwhile, you were panicking a bit because after you got changed out of your school uniform, you neared the stage's curtains to check up on Hobie. Your mouth gapes when you see him sat at the back row, almost directly behind your parents. Your parents! You forgot about your parents!! How did you forget about your parents??! They'd go crazy once they knew that you had invited this boy to your performance — you never invite your friends, let alone anybody, to watch your performances.

The second it was time for the musicians to come on stage, Hobie's head rises from his phone and looks for your figure immediately, smiling once he notices your wardrobe change. It was a simple long-sleeve black dress but it was pretty on you. Hobie thought so.

Your take deep breathes to calm your nerves before situating the cello between your thighs. You wait for the violins, the flutes, and the organ to start playing the intro before propping up the cello's bow. With your head held high, you play the first few notes — the position of your hands finding its own way around the fingerboard like muscle memory.

The music closes to an end, claps and praises erupt the venue. You smile and stand to find Hobie. He was already making his way to you. You leave the cello leaning safely on your chair as you scurry to the stairs of the sides of the stage.

"Hobie!" you greet as you reached him. "How did I do? Was I rushing? What'd you think of it?" you ask, rambling almost. If Spiderpunk gets his adrenaline from his fights, you get it from instances that make your heart feel like its about to burst into a million burnt pieces of flesh in your chest.

He smiles back at you, amused. He's never seen this side of you before. He's never seen anything of you other than your surface-level calmness and pliance. "'ts not usually my thing but I know to appreciate talent. Credit when credit is due and all tha' and, luv, you absolutely smashed it!" he exclaims as quietly as exclaiming can allow, placing both hands on you shoulders and shaking them.

"Thanks," you giggle out, placing your hands on his arm. From the corner of your peripheral vision, you notice your parents on their way to you, confused looks on their faces. Your smile falters as you gently loosen Hobie's hold on you, the adrenaline slowly dying down.

"[Name], amazing as always," your mother says, holding your hand in hers' and caressing your cheek with the other. "Who's your friend?" she quickly asks. Her judgmental eyes scan his appearance from head to toe, attempting to hide her expression with a faux smile.

Hobie was about to introduce himself when you cut him off. "–He's a classmate, Hobie Brown." You look into his eyes apologizing and almost pleading to him to go along with whatever you were about to say. "He came here by pure coincidence, could you believe that?!"

"Yeah, a friend gave me an invitation," he follows up seamlessly, a polite smile on his lips. "'Didn't know your daugh'er was performin'."

"Well, it's a nice surprise, isn't it?" you mother says, pulling you to her side.

Your father had yet to contribute to the conversation so you checked up on hi.. He was glaring at Hobie so harshly you could see burn marks starting to appear on his forehead. "Did you enjoy the show?" he finally asks, tone almost threatening.

Your cheeks start to flush in embarrassment. It wasn't uncommon for your parents to ask about the boys you talk to but it never felt any less humiliating every time it happens. You see each and every one of them get uncomfortable and you couldn't do anything to stop them because they'd think you were hiding something.

"Yeah, I enjoyed [Name]'s performance a lot. You must be very proud of her, Mr. [Last Name]," Hobie answers. You've talked to him long enough to notice the slight teasing in his voice. He smirks at you which makes your father's hands turn into fists.

"Honey," you mother calls, "We'll be late for our dinner reservation. It was really nice to meet you, Hobie, but we have to go." Her smile was still plastered across her face, you wonder why her cheeks hasn't hurt yet. She tells you to collect your stuff and you do so quickly. You bid Hobie an apologetic goodbye before you leave.

On the car to the restaurant, you were given the 'no boyfriends' talk again. You tried to respond with 'mhmm's and 'uh-huh's here and there but you weren't listening to a thing — having heard them repeat the same points many times before. You wondered how to approach Hobie the next day, thinking of stuff to say, how to bring it up, and how to act once he says he doesn't want to get involved with you anymore. It was a shame since you really enjoyed his company.

You wished that Hobie went to school the next day and he did, surprisingly. After classes, you catch up to him leaving the building to speak to him.

You were supposed to explain to him the situation but it seemed he was already up to pace and accepting. "The things is," you pause for a bit, "I really liked hanging out with you.." you confess.

"Hey, wait up!" you yell, running to reach him before he got too far. He paused in his tracks, hands in his vest pockets as he watches you catch your breath. "About yesterday..–"

"Nah, I get it," he interrupts you. "Strict parents and shit. It's cool if your folks don't want you hanging out with me anymore. It sucks but I get it." He was disappointed but chill about the entire thing which made your heart sink. You really didn't want to stop seeing him again. You wondered if he felt the same.

A small gentle smile stretches his lips. "I really liked hanging out with you, too. A lot. Best time I've had in a while, honestly."

You contemplate on what to say next — whether to let them out or not. You mouth gapes open, waiting on your next words. You were about to give him an apology but seeing his eyes, hearing that he liked your company maybe as much as you did, it made the decision so much more difficult. ..Fuck it. "I'd like to continue spending time with you.. even if it meant disobeying my parents. If it's alright with you, of course." You feel your ears heat up as you look down, scared of what the other's reaction might be.

It was rather obvious that Hobie didn't expect it, his eyes widening by a fraction. A big smirk appears on his face as he leans down to catch your eyes. "'Must've left quite the impression on you, huh?" he teases. He watches your eyes roll as you playfully shove his shoulder. "Well, I do love a good rebellion."

"It's not a rebellion."

"It's painfully close then, isn't it?"

#hobie #hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #spider punk x reader #atsv hobie #hobie atsv #hobie brown atsv #hobie fluff #atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse

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ichorai · 11 months

Text

get better ; hobie brown.

track nine of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; hobie brown x spider!cottagecore!reader (gender neutral)

synopsis ; electric guitars and strawberries, leather jackets and quilted skirts, city spiders and cottage spiders. the two of you were perfect for each other.

words ; 5.5k

themes ; fluff, mild angst & action, established relationship (dating)

warnings / includes ; mentions of death, a nightmare/mild panic attack, reader is a mutant on top of being a spider (has the ability to conjure flowers), reader's universe is basically cottagecore universe, pav is there even tho he shouldn't be bcs i wanted to include him, hobie is an amazing bf and affectionately calls reader 'cheeky' :( and a little charles xavier mention bcs <3 the x-men are everything to me

main masterlist.

London was a cold, dreary place. You didn’t belong there, no, sticking out like a sore thumb from the cold, harsh corners of buildings that grazed the clouds and the damp, narrow streets. But you were there anyway, almost as often as you spent time in your own quaint universe, where York was nothing but homey cottages and endless green fields of flowers, strawberries, and farmer’s markets.

You were there for your boyfriend, who cared for the people of the city enough to criticize its leaders—a feat the large portion of the country couldn’t be bothered doing.

Today was a long day of protesting. Inhumane laws were being passed, the government was in shambles, and the PM was a fucking joke. You wanted to be there for him and show him support—it wasn’t your universe, sure, but it was important to you, anyway. Nobody deserved to live in fear of tomorrow.

The two of you made your way back up into Hobie’s dingy little apartment when the sky began to grey with gloomy clouds and cold rain dribbled down dirty rooftops. Hobie slammed the door behind him, the faded Sex Pistols poster loosely tacked on the back warbling with the sudden movement. In turn, you made a bee-line for his bed on the opposite side of the room—really, Hobie’s apartment was just a narrow rectangle, with a cramped bed in one corner, a beaten-up green sofa in another, and the kitchen furthest away from the door. There was another door by the other end that led to the bathroom with cracked mirrors. All the walls were covered with art, posters, random memorabilia, and stickers.

It was a claustrophobe’s nightmare, but it was home to Hobie, which made it your home, as well.

You moaned with relief when you laid down on his thick comforter, shutting your eyes for a moment. Still leaning against the door, Hobie watched you eagle-spread over his bed with a small, amused smile.

He could never get over how funny you looked, surrounded by dark colors and ripped clothes and filthy artwork, when you yourself were the exact opposite—all soft hues and gentle nature and sunshine. Hobie loved that about you. How you were unabashedly so lovely no matter where you were, or what you were doing.

“You falling asleep on me, Cheeky?” he asked, voice lilting with the affectionate pet name, languidly striding over to sit onto the mattress beside you. The bed creaked with protest under the additional weight.

“Mhm,” you hummed in reply, turning your head so you could offer him a tired grin. “Rain always gets me sleepy.”

The silver of his piercings glinted with what little light streamed through his window. “Take a nap, then, yeah? I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

With your final murmur of thanks, Hobie dipped down to sweep the hair away from your face, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead, before standing back up to go fix himself a snack.

Hours later, when you had only begun to twitch with the beginnings of a nightmare, Hobie had gently shaken you awake, beaming at the way your nose wrinkled and your heavy eyes fluttered open to meet his bright ones.

“Rise and shine,” he greeted, smoothing out the creases of the shirt you were wearing. “Well, it’s not really shinin’ out there, innit? Rise and gloom.”

A steaming cup of peppermint tea was pushed into your hands. You didn’t even have to taste it to know that he’d added just the right amount of sugar for you. “Thanks, Hobie,” you mumbled, craning your neck to kiss his cheek.

“Got you somethin’ from the chippie—it’s in the microwave whenever you want it.”

Still groggy, you loosely wound your arms around his neck to tug him into a warm embrace, careful not to spill any of the tea. Half of your body was slung over his legs, the other hanging off the bed. Without hesitation, Hobie’s long arms came around to pull you tighter against him, hugging you close.

“Argh, you’re just too good to me,” you whispered, clutching him tight. “How much was the food?”

“Ah, ah,” he said, pulling away to click his tongue and shake his head. “Don’t worry about it. My shitty universe, my shitty quid.”

With an affectionate roll of your eyes, you pulled away from him. “Alright, well, next time we’re at my place, I’m treating you.”

“Would expect nothing less, Cheeky.”

The two of you shared the microwaved dinner from the chippie together, the large fries nearly burning your tongue and the fish drenched in far too much vinegar for your taste, but the two of you ate it happily regardless.

After the food was cleaned out, you curled up into Hobie’s sofa—which smelled just like the mango perfume you had given to him for his birthday—and brandished the sewing kit you had kept here, hidden beneath the cushions. Your boyfriend took a seat beside you, his guitar situated over his lap and a dull pocket knife gripped in his hand. He took to engraving his initials against its side (and planned on engraving yours right next to it), as you pulled his leather vest closer, stitching one of the patches that had come loose back on.

A comfortable silence stretched over the both of you, like a warm blanket draped over your shoulders. It was only broken by Hobie’s disjointed humming to a song you couldn’t recognize, and the soft pattering of rain outside.

Once he was done with the ‘B’ of his last name, he peered over your shoulder, leaning down to press a kiss to the base of your neck. “How’s it coming?”

You turned with a sweet smile, one that made Hobie’s chest warm. To him, you were the literal embodiment of sunshine. “All fixed,” you chirped, nudging him slightly. “How’s the guitar?”

“Good as ever. D’you mind if I put your name next to mine?”

Your eyes shone. “Go ahead,” you replied, before reaching down to fish something out of your pocket. “Oh, I totally forgot—I embroidered this for you! Made it from my own synthesized silk ‘n everything.”

It was another patch, about half the size of his palm, depicting a bright red strawberry sitting against an equally vibrant yellow backdrop. A genuine smile flickered over Hobie’s countenance.

“Oh, this is wicked, Y/N! Looks fuckin’ fab,” he exclaimed, leaning closer to inspect all the tiny details. Somehow, his beam grew wider. Hobie situated the patch over an empty spot on his vest. “Could you sew it here?”

You nodded whilst humming an affirmative. A rush of heat pulsed over your face when Hobie leaned down to kiss your cheek, pulling back with an obnoxious mwah.

“You’re a talent, you know that? Thank you.”

It was a few minutes later when you showed him his vest—finally ready and decked out with a multitude of both new and fixed patches. In turn, he showed you your name etched right next to his. Overwhelmed by just how much you loved your boyfriend, every single bit of his punk, anarchist self, you threw yourself into his open arms, hugging him tight. A flower appeared behind his ear, and he pinched it between two fingers, pulling it away to inspect its small white petals and smooth green stem. With a hum, Hobie pushed it back onto his ear and returned your embrace.

A week later, you and Hobie were at another underground music concert, filled to the brim with punk rock enthusiasts and anarchists of the very same ilk as him. Seeing as he was the last gig to play, the night ended with an elongated guitar riff, and Hobie’s fist thrusting high up as the final notes crashed against the cheering crowd. It wasn’t long before he was hopping off the rickety stage, immediately greeted with your wide smile and more tiny flowers blooming within the moist cracks of the sidewalk by your feet.

“You did amazing!” you exclaimed, bouncing on the heels of your feet excitedly. “Argh, I’m so proud of you! When you did that thing—with that guitar—and then you just—AH! I loved it, Hobie!”

Your boyfriend slung an arm over your shoulders, briefly pressing his nose against your hairline. “Thanks, Cheeky.” He glanced at the large box you were holding. “What’s all this now?”

“Merchandise,” you chirped with bright eyes. “Made it all myself back in my universe. Free of charge, of course. Everyone deserves to enjoy art without worrying about its price.”

Hobie swore he fell in love with you just a smidge more right then and there.

With nimble fingers, he plucked a bundle out of the box, unfurling it to reveal a dark black t-shirt with a messy crimson scrawl of ANARCHY! across the chest. To his fond delight, there was a little flower drawn just beneath the large text. A touch of him, and a touch of you.

Not waiting another second, Hobie slipped the shirt over his head, one of his piercings momentarily snagging against the collar. You were quick to shift the box onto one arm so you could help him safely tug the shirt down without ripping his earlobe into two.

After murmuring his thanks, Hobie cupped his palms over his hands to yell, “Oi, you lot! Come ‘round here for free shirts! Made by the loveliest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing!”

The two of you stayed at the venue until all your shirts were given away, and even then there were a few stragglers left, disappointed they hadn’t gotten anything.

“Come to Hobie’s next gig, I’ll bring some more things by then,” you reassured them with a kind smile.

After another series of goodbyes, Hobie finally pulled you out of the dingy venue, his hand curled over your upper back and your arm wrapped around his hips.

Hobie was a true artist. Everything he touched, he could turn into something of beauty, something raw and pure and breathtaking. When you had vocalized such thoughts to him, he smirked, loose and humored.

“Don’t like labels,” he said, gaze fixed on his guitar and the uncapped marker he was using to draw just beneath the strings. “You sure you’re not biased?”

“Not at all,” you hummed in reply, leaning against him. The two of you were in your universe, laying spread over a checkered blanket on a vast field not too far from your little cottage. The grass was greener than what Hobie had back home, and the air was clearer and lighter than anything he’d ever breathed before. Somehow, the breeze that whistled between the two of you smelled of strawberries and peaches—or maybe that was your perfume. Hobie couldn’t get enough of it, either way. Your universe was beautiful—nearly as beautiful as you were.

Whilst he was concentrating on his scribbled drawings, you were tinkering with one of your web shooters—a series of miniscule gadgets with brown fixings to wrap around your wrist. Once you clicked it back into place, you jutted it out to Hobie, the round capsules hovering only inches beneath his nose.

He laughed, gently pulling your hand away so he wouldn’t go cross-eyed. “You make these yourself?”

“Synthesized them with all natural ingredients. Took a lot of trial-and-error, but I think I’ve finally perfected the colored formula,” you said, pressing down with both your middle and index finger, showing him how the webs shot out so far he couldn’t even see where it disappeared within the swishing blades of grass.

Arching a brow, he echoed, “Colored formula?”

You grinned. “Take a look. I made them green! I think it’s much prettier than plain ol’ white,” you said.

“Green spider webs, huh? You really are something else,” he surmised with a half-chuckle, half-snort, a goofy smile to his lips. Your excitement was beginning to rub off on him, so he took your hands again, admiring your craftsmanship. “These are so fucking cool.”

“I could make you colored webs, too—whatever color you want!” You perked up with the idea, smiling brighter than the golden sun hanging sweetly in the soft pink sky (the skies were pink during the day in your universe, it was trippy as hell). Little flowers bloomed around you, a few appearing in the surrounding grass, some popping into his hair, others materializing on your flowing blouse.

Flustered, you reached over to pluck out the flowers in his hair, murmuring a quiet apology.

“Nah, it’s cute,” he reassured you, shooting you a curious look. “So—does your universe have others that are also called ‘mutants’ or is it just you?”

“There’s not a lot of us,” you admitted. “It was scary, at first. I was completely… normal until I hit thirteen years old—all of a sudden, flowers started blooming everywhere and I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t control it and it only grew worse the more scared I got. A man named Charles Xavier took me under his wing at his school for gifted students—well, that’s just a code word for mutants—and he helped me train to control it. Obviously… not well enough—flowers still sprout when I feel strong emotions.”

Hobie’s nose wrinkled. “My fault. You like me a bit too much, Cheeky.”

With a playful shove, you huffed out a tinkering laugh. “Anyways, while I was at the school, there was a student with the ability to turn objects radioactive. Highly dangerous, and he could’ve been used as a weapon of war if in the wrong hands. One day, he was just fucking around and… he accidentally turned a spider radioactive. He didn’t tell anyone because he was scared he was going to get in trouble. Lo and behold, it got loose, and the next day, it bit me while I was out on a walk. So not only was I a mutant, I became a Spider, as well. I trained with my newfound powers every day in the Danger Room. I graduated top of nearly all my classes. And not too long after, Miguel came popping out of nowhere—the look on his face when flowers started appearing all over his suit was hilarious.” You chuckled lightly, leaning your head against Hobie’s shoulder. “Your powers are much cooler, though. I wish I had electric abilities.”

The marker in Hobie’s hand was quickly capped, and put to the side so he could raise it to stroke the back of your head. “Flower power is cool as fuck, what are you on about?”

You smiled. Another flower, a fragile pink thing, blossomed onto his lap. Hobie barked out a roguish laugh.

“I love you,” you hummed.

“Love you back, Cheeky.”

Nueva York was the exact antithesis to your world. Everything was new and modern and cutting-edge, heavy on minimalism and plain white canvases of nothing. It lacked art and humanity and just… life, in general. You didn’t really enjoy coming to this universe—the only reason you did was to help out with anomalies whenever you were needed. Though you didn’t quite agree with Miguel’s canon theory (it was messy and evidently didn’t apply to every Spider), you had to agree that villains running amok in rogue universes was no good for anyone. You had personal experience with the matter when a glitching Mysterio came tumbling through a farmer’s market in your universe, baskets of fruit flying every which way and bouquets trampled beneath his descent.

Today, however, you were called in because of your boyfriend. His hologram had appeared over your wrist, offering you a loose smile and a two-fingered salute.

“Hey, Hobie,” you greeted, pausing your baking and brushing errant strands of your hair away with flour-covered hands. “What’s going on?”

“I’m at HQ. Heading over to see Miguel. D’you mind coming, if you’re not too busy?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you said, heading over to the wash basin to rinse off your hands. “Is everything okay?”

The hologram of Hobie hummed, warbling as you rushed to change out of your clothes and into your suit—a white top with beige and green accents, webbing into a spiral around an embroidered collection of flowers on your chest shaped into a spider. Your boyfriend lowered his voice to say, “The original is here.”

“Original?”

“The first anomaly.”

“Oh,” you said, eyes widening a fraction. Oh.

Hobie pursed his lips. Though he was doing well to hide it, you could see the buried worry behind his dark irises. The both of you were well aware that Miguel wouldn’t take this lightly. “Yeah. You’ll be here?”

“I’ll be there. See you in a minute, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll be waiting by the Spider-burger place. Love ya, Cheeky.” With that, he flickered out of view. You blew out a breath, snagged a bag from your room, and pressed a few buttons on your watch. A glowing orange portal opened by your kitchen door. You stepped through, and a tunnel, an elevator, and a hall later, you found yourself at the heart of Spider Society.

Hundreds of Spidermen, Spiderwomen, and Arachnids alike were passing by, chattering aimlessly, or rushing to wrangle their anomalies to the Go-Home Machine. After weaving through the crowd, you made your way to the McSpiders booth, where they sold the most delicious burgers, but you didn’t think you had time for that today.

Hobie was waiting at one of the tables, Pav glued to his side, and Gwen on the other.

Your boyfriend waved, shooting you a wink just as Pavitr shot up, dashing forward to envelop you in a tight hug.

“It’s been so long!” the younger Spider exclaimed. “How’ve you been? How are you?”

“I’m good, Pav,” you warmly replied, patting his back affectionately. Then, you waved to Gwen, who looked a little uncomfortable at the predicament she was in, but tried her best to push it down for a moment to say hello.

You gave her a warm embrace, squeezing tight, a nonverbal confirmation of telling her you were there for her. Knowing that she was technically universeless, both you and Hobie would often let her crash over at your respective places. In fact, she slept in one of your extra rooms so much it was practically hers by now, filled with plenty of her personal belongings. She was one of your closest friends, and seeing her so anxious did nothing but fill you with worry.

Once you pulled away from your two friends, you gave Hobie a quick hug, kissing his cheek. Pav cooed obnoxiously whilst Gwen lightly joked for the two of you to get a room.

Hobie shoved at the blonde’s shoulder with scoff. “Come off it, we wouldn’t have the time anyway.”

Finally, you turned your gaze to the last one in the group—Miles Morales.

It was certainly strange to see him in the flesh, when he was such a popular topic of discussion amongst the verse-traveling Spiders. He was a gangly yet handsome boy, with a head of dark, curly hair, and large brown eyes.

He offered you a nervous smile. “So, uh, you must be Y/N! I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I can say the same thing,” you replied, thinking back to all the times Gwen would lounge in your bed and tell you about her time helping Miles with Kingpin. “It’s nice to put a face to your name after all this time.”

“Yeah, yeah, same.” Awkward as ever, Miles let out something akin to a laugh. His eyes darted down when he noticed Hobie’s hand slipping over your midriff. “So! You’re Hobie’s partner, right? I thought he didn’t believe in consistency.”

You grinned when Hobie drummed his fingers along your hip, shrugging in a nonchalant manner. “If I was inconsistent all the time, that’d be me being consistent, no? Keep with the times, mate.”

Confused, Miles’ lips parted to ask another question but you shook your head. “Just don’t question it. God knows how many times I’ve stumped myself trying to figure him out.”

Hobie shot you an amused look. Before anyone could say anything else, Gwen swung onto her feet, shifting her weight in a fidgety manner. “We should probably get a move on, before Miguel gets mad.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. You guys mind filling me in with what happened on the way?”

And so the five of you set off, with Pav and Gwen taking turns on telling you what had transpired in Mumbhattan, with Hobie occasionally chiming in. Miles was far too enamored by all the other Spiders to really pay attention to what they were saying.

Once you were all informed, you supplied a worried look in Miles’ direction. Stopping a canon event from happening… Miguel definitely wouldn’t be happy about that.

Sensing your eyes on him, Miles met your eyes. “Is there something on my face?” he asked.

“Oh, no. Sorry. I was just distracted.” A flower popped on your shoulder, and another appeared in Miles’ hair. He pulled it out with a surprised raise of his brows.

“Huh. That’s new,” he said with a slightly curious smile. “So, you and Hobie! I guess I just didn’t expect him to be with someone so…”

You tilted your head. “So…?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “You guys look, like, complete opposites.”

Pavitr clapped his hands. “Well, opposites do attract!”

With half a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth, Hobie chimed, “We aren’t complete opposites. We both have a crippling hatred for capitalism and greedy billionaire corporations.”

“That we do,” you agreed, beaming warmly at him. Suddenly, you perked up, remembering what you had brought with you. “Oh, I almost forgot! Pav, Gwen—I made you tote bags a while ago and haven’t gotten the chance to give it to you guys. They’re all made from ethically sourced materials, of course. Sorry, Miles, I would’ve made you one if I’d known I was going to meet you today.”

“It’s no problem. There’ll be a next time, right?” he said, watching as you handed the rolled up bags to an excited Pav, bouncing on the balls of his feet with a litany of thank you so much, this is amazing on his tongue, and a hesitant Gwen, smiling despite being so strung-up to face Miguel.

“Right… A next time…” you echoed, unsure if there’d even be a next time if Miguel had his way with things.

Everything was going wrong.

Miguel went too far, as he often did in his tunnel-visioned haze for order, and trapped Miles in a laser cage, intending to keep him in Nueva York while his father died back in his home universe. A sick feeling curdled within the pits of your stomach—none of this felt right to you. Peter and Gwen were yelling at Miguel, their words washing over you in a blur, like the crashing and the retreat of a wave against an unsuspecting shore.

You watched helplessly as Miles turned around, betrayal lacing heavily across his crestfallen features, staring at the people he had once considered his friends. For half a second, Miles caught your gaze. Anxious flowers—various shades of violet and scarlet—blossomed by your feet. To your side, your boyfriend held both his hands up, gaze fixed on Miles.

“Palms,” he silently mouthed.

Heeding his advice, Miles pressed both his palms against the barrier.

And three beats of a heart later, he had broken free. A blast of energy pushed everybody back a few feet, and you could hear Hobie’s faint laughter echo right beside your ear. You couldn’t help but smile along with him.

Someone had to look out for the little guy, right?

Apparently, Miguel had other ideas. He wasn’t a rational man. No, he was a perfectionist to the core, needing everything to go according to his plan, his theory, his ideology. When the stakes were this high, who was to say no to him? And now, he had somehow convinced nearly the entire population of the Spider Society to chase after a fifteen year old.

Then what? Lock him up? Force him away from his home and wait out his father’s death?

No. It wasn’t right. None of it was.

As pandemonium broke out during the chase after Miles, Hobie gave you a glance. “Just for the record, I quit,” he announced. It wasn’t directed at you, per se, but it was important to him that you knew of his stance. That he wouldn’t sit around and idly twiddle his thumbs at this bullshit.

A portal opened behind him, bathing his dark skin in a bright clementine glow. He unclasped his watch and let it fall to the ground. “You coming, Cheeky?”

“I’ll meet you at your place,” you reassured him. An unspoken trust me hung heavy between you. A white little wildflower appeared in his hair, but Hobie didn’t move to pluck it away. Instead, he ducked his head to press a lasting kiss onto your forehead. You shot him a fond grin before leaning forward to peck his cheek in return, and hurriedly rushed off to go help Miles, canary-hued flowers floating behind you with every swing.

It was by pure chance that you happened upon Miles and Peter, the latter begging for him to hold his baby, which he most definitely shouldn’t have brought along to a chase. You hid behind a large metal pipe, waiting for Miles to leave Peter. It wasn’t long before Miles was running away again, believing his mentor had betrayed him once again, and you were quick to follow after him. Green webs shot out from the fixings on your wrist, and you caught up to the younger Spider in no time.

“Miles!” you exclaimed.

“Please, just let me go back home!” he yelled, stress and panic coiled around his words as he rounded around cars and signs.

Guilt settled around your lungs in a constricting manner. You’d lend him your watch to get home, but with a quick glance behind you, noting the several dozens of Spiders hot on your tail, you realized that there was no way that he’d make it there in time without them following after. There had to be another way.

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” you replied, trying your best to convey that you were on his side. “Trust me, I’m with you on this! If not for you becoming Spider-Man, there’d be no Spider Society, and I would’ve never met Hobie. Of course I’d try to help you, Miles! Listen to me—there’s a bullet train that goes to the moon here—if you draw all the Spiders away from HQ, then you can use the Go-Home machine to get back to your universe!”

Miles shot you an initially dubious glance, which soon melded into one of cautious appreciation. “Where?”

“A couple miles that way! You won’t miss it—it’s a huge glass tube going up to space.” You nodded in the direction he was to be headed. “Good luck, Miles. I’m rooting for you!”

With a shout of his gratitude and a slight smile, Miles swung away from you.

It’s a shame that this was goodbye. Both you and Hobie were really starting to grow on him.

It was raining again, as it almost always was in gloomy London. You were in bed with Hobie, having passed out after letting him know about how you helped Miles, and listening to him tell you about the watch he made for Gwen, knowing she’d most likely need it later down the line if things didn’t work out. He was taking up most of the space on the bed, one arm behind his head on the pillow and the other curved beneath the small of your waist, fingers splayed out over your stomach. Chests rising and falling in synchronized tandem, you were curled up onto your side so that your spine brushed against his side with each breath.

Nightmares weren’t a common thing for you, but when they did slink into your unconscious mind, they were always terrifyingly realistic, and always of the same event. Your canon event.

Tonight was no different.

Soft pink skies. Swinging through the trees after something—someone. Prowler.

The forest gave way to steep mountains. Steep stones and ice and cliffs. The pink above you bled into a menacing shade of purple.

Nets of webbing shooting from your wrists. Desperation. Pleads on your tongue, but you didn’t quite know what you were saying.

The villain tripped over the webbing, rolling down a mountainside that tapered off into a sheer drop. You darted forward, shooting out a web to catch the Prowler.

But it was too late.

They tipped over the edge, stray pebbles tumbling down in their wake. If the Prowler screamed, you couldn’t hear it over the thrumming blood in your ears.

It took over a minute for their body to hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Horror stained your insides black. You weren’t quick enough. You failed.

You made your way down the mountain, wide eyes fixed on the motionless body. You crept forward, checking for a pulse. Dead.

Gingerly, you peeled the mask away from their face. The hazy face of your best friend stared back up at you, beaten and bloody.

Your fault, your fault, your fault—

You woke up with a gut-wrenching sob, jolting up with a broken wail. Hobie had startled from his slumber at the sudden commotion, quick to prop himself up on an elbow, his hand shooting out to properly wrap around you.

Comforting words were murmured into your hair. You only cried harder, gently pushing the blankets away from you, feeling overwhelmingly hot and crowded. It took you another moment to realize that you were hyperventilating, large flowers popping up everywhere around the two of you.

“Breathe,” you could hear your boyfriend say, tracing slow circles along your lower back. “That’s it, love. You got this.”

After a few minutes, your breaths had slowed down, and the tears stopped flowing. You sniffled quietly, turning to Hobie with an apology on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, seeming to know exactly what was on your mind. “You alright?”

“Nightmare,” you whispered in return, voice hoarse with disuse and thirst. “My canon event. It’s my fault Prowler died. My best friend.”

Another circle along your spine. “You wanna talk about it?”

Your eyes, puffy and red-rimmed, blinked back more cresting tears. You nodded, croaking out the tragic story of you and your best friend—the Spider and the Prowler. Hobie listened intently, humming soothingly into your skin.

Once you were finished, he adamantly shook his head. “You can’t blame yourself for that. It’s not your fault.”

But it is, you wanted to say. You swallowed the words, deciding instead to remain quiet and simply lean further into his touch.

“I love you,” he said, voice low and soothing. “You hear me, Cheeky?”

“I hear you. Thank you for… for always being there for me. You’re the punkest punk that’s ever punked.”

A hum rumbled from his throat. “I’ll always be here for you. I trust you’ll do the same for me. We’re all broken, but… it’s a good thing we Spiders got sticky webs to keep us together, yeah?” A pause before Hobie backtracked, “That didn’t come out the way I intended it to but you get my point.”

You wrinkled your nose in amusement. “Yeah. I’m glad we found each other in all this chaos, Hobbes.”

“Mmh. Nothing better than a bit of chaos, innit?”

The two of you sat in silence for a bit longer, simply soaking in each other’s comforting presence. When you arched your neck to press a lasting kiss along the underside of Hobie’s jaw, you could feel his face shift with a fond smile. Before he could reciprocate the gesture, a tangerine glow shone from outside the window, warbling with the rain, but still a stark juxtaposition to the macabre grey of the city.

Both you and Hobie peered out of the window, limbs still tangled.

Outside was Gwen, her cowl pulled over her uneven strands of blonde-pink hair, hexagonal portal rings shifting behind her. Her features were solemn and grim as she locked eyes with the both of you. You and Hobie glanced at each other. Small pink flowers started to bloom along the windowsill, much to your chagrin.

With not another second of hesitation, the two of you leapt out of bed, hastily yanking on your suits and swinging out of the window to join Gwen.

To join her in saving Miles Morales, and, ultimately, the multiverse.

#hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk fanfiction #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown angst #hobie brown imagines #hobie brown drabbles #spiderpunk angst #spiderpunk fluff #spiderverse fanfiction #atsv fanfiction #hobie brown x you

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jaehymrk · 2 months

Text

reporting live

trent alexander arnold x fem!reader. fluff. Trent who was rather interested in the reporter than the actual report he had to give.

Time was ticking on a thin thread for you as your supervisor might call you within five minutes if you do not interview, at least, one player of liverpool. You have been in the reporting field for at least seven months and you now also have juniors yet for you to move like an amateur was hurting your pride.

You are social issues reporter, going around different cities, and write an interesting jaw-dropping report then, call it a day. Sport reporting was not your forte, it is almost like . . fork found in your backpack. Simply out of place. The million dollar question ringing in your head was why were you here in Anfield Stadium at the first place but you face-palmed yourself on accepting to cover for your senior who was in her maternity leave. You had always hated whenever you had to cover for a reporter doing sports. No particular reasoning, just childhood trauma.

You saw all the liverpool footballer players walking out from the dressing room after a hot win. You crossed path with the tall, charismatic dutch leader of liverpool to the small growing liverpool superstar Endo but you had your goal set on the biggest prize, the player with a fresh trim, and his headphone on as every reporter tried catching his attention.

Trent Alexander Arnold, the star of Anfield and liverpool. Your supervisor might as well, move you to the Sports section if you got to interview Trent; you were not looking forward to that but a lady has bills to pay. You sighed as you had to save your job before it slipped away from your grip.

Just one interview, anyway. What is the harm? You held the sleeve of his tracker suit lightly, you needed this, you needed a bang.

"Great win in Anfield, innit? Please let us know about how are you feeling about the win?" You asked reaching your microphone out to the man. His gaze froze, so did his feet in front of you. It could be the audacity to block his way toward the team bus or the glitch of mischievousness in his eyes that flickered on your red hue cheeks.

Trent chuckled as he moved slightly forward removing his headphone, your eyes set on the man completely compelled from the bridge of his nose, deep doe eyes to his captivating smile. Everything about the man was setting you up for a failure, realizing how much of a bad idea this was.

"Yeah, yeah it is great team win but to become the last scorer for the win is a different achievement, so I am proud and happy." Trent answered, his eyes never leaving yours for a minute. His heavy scouser accent oozed out every word as Trent kept his smile intact.

His eyes glanced at you, noting the rose hue on your cheeks, one hand slightly shaking to hold onto the microphone and the other holding onto the notebook. "Come here, love. Let me hold that for you." He mumbled gripping on the microphone as your fingers brushed on his and you were secretly praying to every god that was staring upon you to not show your slight jump after the touch.

"Okay so-" You paused, clearly out of the atmosphere as you were in no place to check out players nor drool out your delusional ideas when you have a very angry supervisor waiting on the clock and an impatient cameraman behind you. "Yeah, I cannot lie, you . . you were great in the field." You complimented him quickly but you were not lying about it. With the long passes, and all the chances Trent created for the team; anyone can tell he was born to become a football player who succeeds with legacy.

"You were watching?" Trent asked raising his eyebrows in question. Utterly confused, you paused to flip your notebook to look at the man in front of you. With the silent eye contact, your neck burnt hot. You nodded sternly, a thin smile on your face. "Of course, I was watching, I mean, I am a reporter, can't be missing out on the main point of the whole show."

Trent kissed his teeth, he smirked, "So, tell me more. How was I on the field? Did you like what you see?" He winked at your direction. Your mind went blank, in what position does he have to be to flirt openly with a camera panning on his face? The burning hot sensation on your back came straight up and your heart beating fast was not helping to form words, "Like . . like I said, you were great. You are the star of liverpool after all." You sweetly smiled.

Trent had the cheeky smile on his face, his eyes lingering on your lips before glancing upward to your eyes. He knew what he was doing to you moving closer to the barrier between the reporters and the players.

You cleared your throat. "You are also the player of the match." You trailed off; Trent leaned closer. Call it the stadium being loud for him to not hear you clearly or he simply wanted to be close to you, to mesmerize the small moles on your face, to engulf himself on your warm scent.

"Are you excited for your next big game against Manchester City?" You inquired. All the back and forth staring and silence with Trent will not colour your supervisor impressed at all. You need to interview someone else that will not . . leave you speechless in minutes.

"Well it depends, to be very honest with you. Will you be in the next game?" Trent further pestered.

You furrowed your eyebrows in slight annoyance at the player for making everything about you while the whole fanbase would want to know more about him.

The cameraman behind you almost dropped his equipment taken back by the question. You did not know . . how to respond to the player who was attacking you with his doe eyes. Nervously, you laughed, "I cannot be certain about that. Are you and your team ready? It is one of the anticipated game of the season." You diverted his topic back to what you needed at the first place.

Trent stared at you without responding to your question, you quickly started shaking your leg anxiously as your eyes lingered at almost all the players leaving to go back to the training ground from the stadium. Your chances were blowing every second Trent silent in front of you.

During this period, you started considering finding other jobs, as you started making mental notes. With thoughts looming around your head, you did not come to realize Trent walked a few steps toward you, nibbling on his bottom teeth. He removed the microphone away from his lips, coming forward for a conversation that is sealed between you and the liverpool player.

You flinched at his hot breathe hitting your skin, as he gently held onto your forearm to keep you in position knowing you will move away from his contact.

You coughed away from his grip. "Have a great day then. We cannot wait till what magic liverpool can bring to Anfield once again."

"And you too, have a great day but i did not quite catch your name." He inquired with his wicked smirk playing on his face. He wants me gone, jobless. Clearly, with zero intention to support my penniless lifestyle.

You smiled, "If you do goal against Manchester City, I will let you know."

"Should we seal the deal with a kiss then, perhaps?"

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold scenarios #trent alexander arnold fic #trent alexander arnold x you #jaehymrkwrites #trent alexander arnold fluff

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crybyemissamericanpie · 2 months

Text

Pops would fucking hate you - Felix Catton x Masc!Reader

i had to rewrite this like 2 times,and i still dont like it but it is what it is

TW:Small fluff,Part-Nudity,Homophobia,Sexual theme meantions, cursing, smoking, meantion of alcohol,daddy issues(lol),overthinking

"My pops would fucking hate you"You humble out with a small smile,head layed on the cold wall,as you stare at the ceiling,feet slowly swinging in the air,sometimes hitting the bedframe, some old song playing in the background

"Oh really?Sounds a bit homophobic innit'?"Your boyfriend humbles back a small chuckle leaving his lips,as he tunes the tabs on his guitar which was in his lap

"that's probably the case"You sigh out,fidgeting with the half-smoked cig between your fingers

Your dad was never really the human rights guy,i mean he was a white middle aged cis straight man,he had no reason to be protesting and support as it doesn't affect him nor his family,or at least thats what he always said until,when you were 10 you and your guy best friend at the time were giggling about how would it feel like to be kissed,so you both find out with each other,it was just a small peck

And that would be just that but as your usual english walls,they were really fucking thin and your father in the other room could hear everything.he never told anyone or mention it to you,it was just the way he looked at you after you came in his room for a charger

The room falls silence for a moment,the guys voice on the record player starts again after instruments,not an awkward silence nor a comforting one.You put the cig between your lips and took a hit,feeling it go to your core,as you get goosebumps from the open window that none of you would bother closing,then you blew the smoke,out and watch it disappear into thin air

Felix stringing a few notes was the one who took you out of your own thoughts.”it doesnt matter,we fucking hate him either way”The boy snarks out,a small comforting smile on his face.This wasnt the first time you talked to Felix about your dad,you both went through the trauma dumping on the second date.You didnt know how to feel about your dad,i mean he was your father at the end of the day,and youve had mostly forgotten about him since you came to uni,but sometimes he would just appear in your mind.

“good point”You look at felix,his tender smile,make every girl and boy melt.It was definitely an experience dating the heartthrob of Oxford.He was new to long term relationships so of course sometimes you'd argue about some stupid girl flirting with him at the local pub and he didn't try to stop her or anything,maybe he was a bit right,maybe you could be a bit jealous,but he doesn't need to know that you kinda agree with him on that

“I think my parents wouldn't believe me if i told them that im dating you”said felix,stroking a few strings on his guitar,like he was about to sing a love song.”i mean like..not even me dating but like dating someone amazing like you”He says as he doesnt break his eye contact with the strings of the guitar,his smile could even be heard from his voice

“yeah sure”You chuckle a bit at his statement,not convinced at all.You take another blunt from the cig.”its true,they probably think that im having sex with girls right now”He says,as he sits up more,looking at you blowing the smoke out of the cig.”i mean..you were in the start of the term”You tease,with a small smirk,as you smear the cig on the glass cig dispenser,next to you on the small table

Felix scoffs,sassily”well that was at the start of the term,before i met you!”he says,both of his eyebrows perked up as he leaned a beat closer,then let himself fall back on the pillows which were leaned on the frame of the bed.

A smirk on your face as you see your boyfriend get a bit worked up”i cant argue with that”You choose to not tease him this time with it”I think my dad knows that im fucking a boy”You wonder,you knew that your dad.Felix hm’d in response,his attention on the guitar again

Silence fills between the two of you only the rain hitting the grass and the vinyls instruments filling up your ears,,as you look at the window,where the now very cold breeze was coming you see that it's raining,water coming on the edge of the window.felix's eyes follow your gaze and he puts the guitar next to you on the bed and gets up and closes the window,his shirt getting rain on it

You overthink a bit of what if he is now upset that you said that your fucking a boy,not actually dating one,Felix was sensitive despite his personality that he puts out,before you wanted to apologize he was taking his shirt off,his muscles beautiful,then he pulls his pants and boxer off in one go,grabbing a new pair of boxer which you guessed was his pajamas.its not like it was the first time you have seen him naked of course,but you cant help but admire everytime.

As Felix straightens up and you start”i'm sorry”You whisper out,hoping you wouldn't have to repeat it,felix looks puzzled”for what?”He asks his voice soft as he walks back to the bed putting the guitar next to his nightstand,sitting down next to you also laying his back against the cold wall

“for saying that i only have sex with you”You mumble out, staring at your socks,as you rest your chin against your knees,he was much more than that to you,much more that you couldn't even put it to words.you wanted to prove it and continue your words but when you would start Felix,puts his hand on your back,with a comforting smile”i know you didn't mean it that way”He says,his eyes glimmering at you,like you were a the last drop of water on planet earth and he have been thirsting for over 1 month

You can't help but smile at his words,making you feel better that you didn't offend him,he never liked when you over thinked.You straighten your legs,then hug him,burying your face in his bare chest,he wrapped his arms around your body,kissing the hair on your head,with a smile,you can feel his fingers drawing shapes on your clothed back.You look up at him,faces close that you could still feel the cheap beer of his lips

“i love you so much”He whispers,it was easy for him to say that,like it was the most simple words in the words,with no meaning behind them.”i want to have you for the rest of my life,have a family and move into a small farm house”He says,his brown eyes tickling,as he stares into yours,you can't help but chuckle as a big smile washes on your face”i know it's..like really early but i know,i feel it”Felix said.he had big plans,and you were one of them.

“i know…i hope too”You say,voice shooting as you give a small peck to his lips,then his lips falls onto yours for a longer kiss,and you don't hesitate to kiss back,lips pressed together as you were 2 pieces of a puzzle.

#felix catton x reader #felix catton x male!reader #felix catton x masc!reader #felix catton #felix catton x reader comfort #felix catton x reader fluff #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn fanfic #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x male!reader #jacob elordi x masc!reader #jaocb elordi please save me

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howdoesagrapewrites · 9 months

Note

Hobie x spiderperson!reader where they both have COMPLETELY different types but they're so attracted to eo for some reason???

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚

Cw: Hobie Brown x reader, just fluff

>I don't think Hobie has a defined type, like, as long as you're not a fascist he's not one to be like "not my type"

>But he has something I would call "type by proximity" you know? He always hangs out with the same kind of people, so all his dates and hookups were always similar in style

>He has dated a variety of people though, different in a lot of aspects, just that they're all punks

>There are some views he has that he needs to share with his partner, but they're pretty down to earth and some very logic considering his political background

>He wouldn't get surprised or weirded out when he realizes he's romantically attracted to you, it just happens very organically

>His friends would be the ones to point it out (the ones from his dimension)

>"they certainly ain't Hobie's regular", "But he looks happy, innit?"

>But if you happened to be just the tiniest bit taken aback because of your new found crush, he'll notice, and definitely tease you about it

>If all your previous partners were goody goody two shoes, he's definitely, laughing, I'm sorry (though is unclear if he's laughing at them or you)

>He's honestly all up for the opposites attract kind of thing

>He'd definitely hype you up if you wear any kind of alternative fashion, it doesn't matter if it's something not even remotely close to his aesthetic

>I think he keeps a piece of you in his attire, maybe a necklace (pendant, choker, whatever) or a piece of fabric of an old item of clothing you threw out for any reason, if this is a "he was a punk they, did ballet" situation he finds so cute to have a pink article of clothing in his battle jacket, maybe it's cute earrings with the shape of a heart, teddy bear, ice cream cone, or anything adorable, or maybe it's a patch of pink fabric sewed in between all his pins and patches, to add a little more color

>If you mention he's not your usual type at a confession, he has the knowing smirk of someone who will weaponize this your entire relationship

>"No, it's not like that, it's just that you're far from my go-to type when it comes to dating"

>"So ya don't find me pretty, sweetheart?" He get really close just to fluster you

>"I do, but you're, um, a little different"

>"Why bother being so consistent? You may get impressed if you give good ol' punk scoundrel a chance"

>He likes that you're different, that you can show him new things, he's not one to stay in the same unmoving place for a long time, if he's serious, he needs you to know he'll never stay still, he craves the constant dopamine hit of learning new subjects

>He'd feel really flattered if you incorporated something of him to your daily life, whether it's his guts, disregard for the authority or black nails and spikes

#atsv x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #hobie brown x y/n #spiderpunk x reader

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thot-of-khonshu · 2 years

Text

French Lessons

Pairing: Steven Grant X f! reader

Summary: You had been in desperate want to learn French, but the absolute droll of learning through a boring app was no fun. Coincidentally, you meet a brilliant gift shop clerk at the museum who can teach you French while you can teach him a thing or two about love.

Rating: Explicit 18+ (By proceeding to read beyond this warning, you agree that you are 18 years or older)

Word Count: 5K

Content: Explicit Smut, pining, masturbation references, dry humping, fingering, handjob, fluff, romance, French, Steven Grant, slight reference to Marc Spector

Notes: My Steven fic has finally arrived!! I'm hoping to turn this into a series because I have quite a few other ideas and I don't want to leave you hanging with just a taste of the two of them. But I hope you like it and share/reblog! Love y'all!

Updated Note: Wow!! Thank you so much for all of your kind words and notes. Part 2 is currently in the works and coming soon.

Part 2

Bonjour! Je m'appelle Vivienne Rousseau et bienvenue à votre premier cours de français’!

Hello! My name is Vivienne Rousseau and welcome to your first French lesson! Did you understand my first sentence? If not, not to worry! I will teach you how to learn and with the right dedication you’ll be speaking fluently in the next 6 months! Today’s lesson is all about beginnings…

You whine as you raise your volume on your phone to stay focused. However, the tall statues and figurines in front of you were not helping like you thought it would. You had come to the National Museum to gain some peace and clarity while starting this new venture. French was always a language you had dreamed of learning, so why not start now? Sure, the grating voice of Vivienne Rousseau would drag you along through it, but this was a new adventure. The start of something interesting…

As long as you could pay attention. It wasn’t your fault Vivienne’s voice sounded like a high-pitched foghorn. But the reviews for her app were rave and they wouldn’t take your credit card information for another week, so if it became a bigger drag than it already was, you could cancel your free trial.

You walked throughout the museum trying to focus on your lesson, but rewound the same phrases over and over.

Je m’apelle Vivienne. Je suis ravi de vous rencontrer.

You were thinking it wasn’t the pyramids and statues that weren’t helping you focus, but you figured it was time for you to leave the museum, regardless. Before the trip home, you stopped at the gift shop for a bottle of water. You walked over to the gift shop counter t o grab the attention of a man entirely more focused on his Egyptian mythology book than having to sell stuffed scarabs. He looked slightly disheveled, with black curly tendrils falling all over his head. When you made eye contact with him, he had dark crescents under his eyes and a timid smile. He looked so nervous to a complete stranger, you couldn’t imagine how he was towards his coworkers.

Reaching for your water, the cord of your earbuds snapped and broke free from your phone. If you hadn’t noticed by the snapping of the cord, you would’ve noticed from Vivienne’s grating voice booming throughout your speaker:

Bonjour! Comment ça vas?

“Bien, merci. Et vous-même?” You look up and the tired, timid man has spoken, meeting your eyes with a softer smile.

You smile back and laugh. “Sorry about that. This is what happens when I don’t get earbuds from the last five years.”

“Well, it’s not about the earbuds, innit? It’s what’s in them that matters. Learning French?” He asks.

“If you could even call it that. I thought coming to the museum would help me focus up, but this woman I’m listening to sounds well braindead.”

“Je suis désolé. D'après ce que j'ai entendu, elle ressemblait à un bouton absolu.” The crinkles in the corner of his eyes became more prominent and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m sorry. From what I heard, she sounded like an absolute knob.” He translated. He introduced himself. Steven. With a V. You asked Steven with a V if he’d like to make some extra money on the side and before you knew it, you were meeting at the bistro every Wednesday for an hour of French lessons with Steven with a V.

Steven was not as drab and droning as Vivienne Rousseau, quite the opposite. Before and after your hour was up, you found yourselves talking more and more about your days; him describing the gift shop and his aspirations to be a tour guide despite his awful boss Donna. You couldn’t understand how he wasn’t. It seemed like everything he talked about could circle back to his love for Egyptology and the wonder of the gods and goddesses. How does someone like that know so much about it but he’s stuck behind a desk selling crisps and plushies?

After your 3rd meeting, you’d plucked up the courage to ask him. The first thing he did was look at you after those compliments with such earnest gratitude you felt your insides melt. The second thing he told you was that he had a sleeping disorder that kept him further back in life than he’d wanted. He aspired to have adventure, and life and zest as much as he could, but for right now… the gift shop was just enough.

That was the first night you had gone to bed thinking of how kind his smile was, chasing the warmth throughout your body it had given you as if you’d just taken a shot. You’d found yourself eager for the next lesson, to hear about his new studies, to watch his hands as he notated on your writing.

You’d gotten to the bistro thirty minutes early, in your same corner table at the patio, waiting for Steven.

You waited.

And you waited.

Two hours later, he never showed.

You felt your insides deflate as you traveled home. You’d checked your text messages every ten minutes hoping to see a sign that he was okay or if he was busy or if he just didn’t want to come. Maybe he’d seen the way you looked at him in your last lesson and found it inappropriate?

You wished Steven standing you up would’ve completely turned you off to him, but unfortunately, it just had him occupying your mind more and more until the sounds of his voice describing tales of the green jewel lulled you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning to your phone going off, although it wasn’t your alarm. Steven was in the middle of writing you a flurry of text messages with apologies about how he wasn’t able to make it last night and how his sleeping had completely mucked his week up. He asked if you were free that night for your lesson and a free meal to make it up. While you agreed to see him, your worry and apprehension weren’t immediately gone. You weren’t sure if this was just his common excuse he had given women, but, it was worth it to hear him out.

You had gotten to the restaurant and there at your familiar corner table was Steven Grant, looking like the saddest dog you had ever seen. As soon as you were in eye view, he walked up to you, moving to place his hand on your shoulder but hesitating. He moved it back to clasp his other palm, whispering your name.

“I am so deeply, deeply sorry. I go to bed on Saturday and then I woke up, and it’s Thursday and I feel like I got hit by a double-decker bus and— “

“Je te pardonne. Mangeons.” You had said. I forgive you. Let’s Eat. And he flashed you that damn smile again, and you felt your insides crack like an egg to the stove.

There wasn’t as much lesson as there was dinner this night as you and Steven had discussed every topic you could. Work, music, books, television. No topic was left off the table as you waited for your food. The server brought out the very vegan Steven’s steaming lentil soup and what was supposed to be your salmon was replaced with a large burger.

“I’m so sorry miss, it’s a bit of a mess in the kitchen back there tonight. I’ll get this sorted out straight away.” The server said to you. You saw the steam coming out of Steven’s soup and instead of digging in, his hands were placed politely on his lap.

When the server came back out, he had brought trout, which you were unfortunately allergic to or else you would’ve scarfed it down by then. More than a half hour had gone by and you were still waiting for your dinner. And there was Steven, hands no longer in his lap but marking your French in his thick glasses. You took a mental note of how good he looked in them while cursing yourself for doing so.

“Steven, if you want to eat, I completely understand. Your food must already be freezing.” You said, eying the way his hands held his pen.

“Not to worry.” He said cheerfully. “The great thing about lentils is that you can eat them hot or cold and I want to make sure you’re taken care of. Laisse moi prendre soin de toi.” You immediately felt your face redden and were so glad that your food had come back correctly this time so you could bury your head in your salmon and vegetables.

When you went home that night, you thought of his thick fingers, his kind eyes and the repeat of him saying “Laisse moi prendre soin de toi” in your head as you slowly slipped your fingers under the covers, dreaming of how your French tutor would say that to the heat between your legs.

Laisse moi prendre soin de toi. Let me take care of you.

He wasn’t late for the next lesson. He was there when you had arrived, 15 minutes before, to counter the overeager 30 minutes versus strolling in right on time. You wanted him to know you care about these lessons, but maybe not too much.

When you had walked over to the table, Steven had another downtrodden look on his face. His lips were turned down, and he was looking down at the ground. When he heard your footsteps, his face immediately brightened and damn, this was not helping your crush.

“Bad day at the museum?” You greet him as he sullenly nodded.

“Donna started taking the piss at me as soon as I got into work. A child — a child!! — came up to me and asked me where the bloody bathroom was and all I hear after I show her where it is—‘Stevie, you’re not a tour guide. It’ll never happen, so stop trying.’” He mocked Donna with a nasally grating voice.

“I’m sorry. It’s like she doesn’t even give you a chance to prove yourself.”

“Exactly!!” Steven excitedly exclaims as a few people from other tables looked around. He muttered apologies. “I’m just so tired of her thinking I’m some bumbling git. It’s not like she knows where the Hathor temple is and she could answer someone if they asked her. She wouldn’t even know Hathor if she bit her in the arse.”

You giggled as he went on. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. Let’s get on with our lesson soon, but do you mind if I eat here again tonight? She wouldn’t even let me take a lunch today!”

“Well, since you had an absolutely shit day, I think it’s my turn to get dinner. And I’ll do one extra.” The server came around to your table as Steven looked at you, puzzled.

“Excuse me, sir, but can you recommend your finest French wine?”

A couple of hours later and two bottles of wine down, dinner was finished but there yet again wasn’t much of a French lesson. Giddy and bubbly from wine, you and Steven continued your endless back and forth and it felt like you could talk to him about just about anything. You saw him look at his phone screen to look at the time and you felt your heart sink a bit.

“Oh bugger, it’s already 9 PM.” Steven frowned. “I don’t want to keep you too long. I’m sure you have plenty to do.”

“No! Wednesdays are always our nights.” You saw his smile widen when you said that, the crinkles in his eyes deepening. “Besides, I wouldn’t just consider tonight a French lesson but me trying to cheer up a friend who seems to have had a bad day.”

“Not so bad now, innit?” He grinned. You looked into his eyes with no reluctance, the alcohol warming your body giving you courage to keep contact. He had beautiful, dark eyes and his nose was so strong and defined. You knew better than to even look at his lips, though, because once you did, you would stare too long and then goodbye to your friend and French tutor.

You heard a slight rumble and felt droplets hit your shoulders. First quietly and then pounding as the rain came through like a. Luckily you had already paid for yours and Steven’s food so you ran under the patio’s awning, Steven’s arm was halfway out of his jacket when he ran over to you and then flipped the jacket over your head.

“What do we do now? I know we’re having a great time, but you’re also not exactly paying me to gossip during a rainstorm.” Steven shouted over the loud rain.

Liquid courage be damned. You thought of an offer that you didn’t want to come off the wrong way, but it was raining and you did pay him for a lesson you hadn’t exactly completed. You bit your lip in contemplation and you could’ve sworn in the corner of your eye you saw Steven eyeing your swollen bottom lip.

“My flat isn’t too far, if you don’t mind it.” Steven looked at you for what felt like a long moment and you held your breath. He nodded and kept his jacket above your head the entire way.

As soon as you had gotten to your flat, you thought the alcohol would wear off, but the last bottle you two had shared was just kicking in. The two of you ran and giggled back to your apartment like a couple of schoolchildren, and you felt so refreshed. You loved that you could be silly with him.

“This is it! Sorry I haven’t fixed it up much.” You said, tossing your shoes on the floor and your keys on your counter.

“It’s much better than my place.” Steven looked around. “You wouldn’t be surprised though, loads of books, loads of paperwork, a goldfish named Gus.”

You snorted. “Come on, my books and my desk are in the bedroom.”

He followed you into your bedroom as you turned on the desk light, lit enough to illuminate the space needed but not too bright to cause a headache. You fell onto your bed, back first, with your arms stretched out to the back of your head. It felt so good to close your eyes. It felt so good being tipsy. It felt so good being with Steven. Where is Steven? When you opened your eyes, there he was at your desk, eyeing your stack of French books.

“I have to say this is quite the collection, miss.” He took his glasses out of his shirt pocket and slipped them on and you had to shut your eyes quickly before the heat between your legs grew to an uncomfortable amount. “Baudelaire, Marceline Desbordes-Valmore and you have my favorite, Victor Hugo.”

“No way, Victor Hugo is my favorite as well!” You shot up excitedly. He had Hugo’s book in his hand as he skimmed through.

“Le Roi S’amuse, I love absolutely love this play.”

“Can I tell you something?” You swung your feet off of your bed to distract your bubbling nerves. “I’ve really wanted to pick up French just so I can read more French literature I can fall in love with. See more plays, get more cultured.”

“That’s what I like about you.” Steven said, bringing the book with him as moved next to you on the bed. “We haven’t exactly gone over this term yet, but when I think about you, I think of your joie de vivre. Your lust for life. You see things and opportunities and you take them.”

You feel yourself redden. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“I just mean, if it was the other way around, I could’ve never walked up to an attractive stranger and asked them to teach me French.” He looks down nervously for a brief moment and then steadies himself, giving you deep eye contact. You’re almost rendered speechless.

“Are you telling me you find yourself attractive, Steven Grant?” You whisper. Your eyes are locked on each other. You’ve never seen someone with such dark, kind eyes.

“Can I tell you which verse is my favorite?” You break the silence. “It would probably do me good to have you hear some of my French tonight.” You giggle. Steven doesn’t giggle. He slowly nods as your liquid courage takes over. Your hands are shaking, but you feel the electricity.

You slip your hands onto his and help guide him to your favorite passage. His eyes don’t leave your face. It’s as if he’s studying you like a new art installation.

“La vie est une fleur, l’amour en est le miel.” You recite.

“Life is a flower, love is its honey.” Steven translates. His hands are so, so warm on yours.

“C’est la colombe unie à l’aigle dans le ciel,” you continue, briefly daring to look up at his eyes, which are now on your hands. He looks absolutely dazed, as if he can’t believe this is real.

“It’s the dove united with the eagle in the sky,” You notice Steven's hands are shaking too.

“C’est la grâce tremblante à la force appuyée,” Do you dare to move your hands?

“It’s the trembling grace to the leaning force,” He’s looking directly at you again. No wine, no French, no lentil soup could save you now.

“C’est ta main dans ma main doucement oubliée…” You rub your hands on top of his and his fingers feel exactly how you thought they would, and more.

“It’s your hand in my gently forgotten hand…” He moves one hand to your shoulder. Your heart feels as if it’s in your throat.

“Aimons-nous! aimons-nous!” There are exclamation points in the text, but all that comes out of your mouth is a faint whisper.

“Let’s love each other. Let’s love each other.” Somehow, your faint whisper is louder than Steven’s.

And then silence. You feel yourself gravitate towards him, the heat of your lips meeting as they finally collide and give you the sweetest satisfaction.

Steven Grant’s lips are softer than you could have ever fantasized. He’s gentle, slow and leaves you lingering for more. One hand is still on your Victor Hugo book, rubbing the palm of your hand as your fingers are laced together.

You break apart briefly and lean your foreheads on each other, grinning as he rubbed your shoulder.

“I feel like I’ve been wanting to do that since I first met you.” Steven confesses. You take your other hand and run it through his tussled black curls as you continue to kiss him. He follows your lead, matching the pace of your kisses and, albeit awkwardly initially, slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste him.

As the kiss deepened, you heard the book slam onto the ground with a large thud as you lifted yourself onto his lap. You heard Steven gasp, and you broke the kiss.

“Is everything alright?” You scan his eyes for any discomfort.

“I’m alright, love.” His hands continue gripping your shoulders tightly. You place your hands on them, moving them slowly from your shoulders to the curve of your hips.

“You don’t have to worry.” You whisper into his lips. “You can touch me however you want.” He exhaled and gripped your hip with more confidence. His other hand moved to the back of your neck as your lips crashed together, moving at a faster pace. You moan as he slips his tongue into your mouth, which causes him to moan. You pushed against him, slowly rocking on him, your skirt slipping up by the friction.

He groans before breaking the kiss. “I should let you know something. I’m not like other men.”

“That’s precisely what I like about you, Steven.” You move your lips to the warmth of his neck, sucking on him as he groans again, shaking his head as if he needs to get out of his trance.

“No, I’m serious. I’ve told you about my sleeping disorder… how it causes me to miss certain days and how I feel so knackered afterwards. It’s… caused me to miss quite a bit out of life.”

“And I can help you make it up.” You nibble on his ear.

“I’m a virgin.” He blurts out so fast you almost miss it.

You take a moment to settle into his lap, hands still firmly smoothing out his soft curls. He looks down with a tinge of shame and embarrassment that you’re puzzled by, so you reassure him by lifting his chin up and giving him a soft kiss.

“Hey, come on now. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It just hasn’t happened yet.”

“Yeah, at least not with the right person.” He takes his slightly shaky hand to hold the side of your face as you kiss his palm.

“Well, we can go at whatever pace you like tonight.”

"I just want to make you feel good.” Steven whispers. “Show me how to do that and I’ll be satisfied enough tonight.”

“But I want you to be satisfied too, Steven. And I think I know of a way to do that.”

You press your lips against his, but this time hungrier, needier. You wanted to show him how much you had been pining for him all of these weeks. Steven could steadily match with your pace, boldly biting your lower lip and smiling as he heard a moan exit your mouth.

You move his hand from your face, slowly sliding it down your neck, to the curve of your breast. Steven let out a whimper as you guided his hand to knead your breast. He stared at your hands together, mouth agape, eyes hooded, in a trance.

You moved his hand from your breast to your stomach, to your thighs as you guided his hand up your dress. You planted soft kisses on him while you guided him, but when you stop at the heat between your legs, he’s absolutely speechless. You remove your hand from his, letting him decide his next step.

He rubs the outline of the wetness of your underwear as you sigh in pleasure.

“Steven…” You whisper.

“I could never get tired of hearing my name said like that.” He sighed, still looking at you in absolute unabashed awe. You removed the straps from your sundress, exposing your naked breasts, and instead of the trembling nerves Steven had shown you, he was massaging and rubbing at one nipple while still rubbing the outline of your underwear.

“That feel good?” Steven murmured.

“So good Steven.” Your nipples had started to harden under his touch. Steven removed his hand from your crotch so he could steady himself and focus on putting his breasts in your mouth. He took ample time with both of them, switching back and forth and sucking on them with such passion that his eyes were shut and he was moaning, silently praising your chest.

After a few moments of bliss, you stopped him, lifting his head up as he could watch you get off of his lap and onto your knees. Just the simple action of you kneeling between his raging erection caused him to start quietly panting, not wanting any sudden movements to ruin this moment.

You unfastened his belt, eyes still met with his as you saw the bulge from his boxers. There was a slight wet spot of pre-cum on the fabric and you felt your mouth water with anticipation. You pulled his boxers down so his cock could spring free and you weren’t only surprised but very pleased.

Steven’s cock was so thick you could barely touch your thumb when wrapping your hand around him. He was already so firm and hard for you, veins slightly protruding out and more liquid glistening at the top of his tip.

“Oh my God.” Steven chanted as you rubbed him up and down. “Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I can’t believe you’re so big.” You say, a bit hypnotized yourself. You had fantasized about this moment but couldn’t believe it was actually happening and better than you had ever expected.

“I’m not gonna lie to you,” Steven strained out. “As much as I would love for you to put your mouth… all… over me… I think our fun would end rather quickly, and that leaves us with a bit of a problem.”

You slightly turn your mouth, upset you can’t have your mouth take the challenge of swallowing his cock just yet, but then you come up with an even better idea, giving Steven a devilish grin.

You slip his boxers back on, his bulge even more prominent than before, and Steven looks up at you with a puzzled look. You wrapped your legs around his hips and sunk your clothed crotch into his.

“Oh, fuck.” Steven moaned, calling out your name. “Fuck, that feels amazing.” He fastened his hands on your hips as you slowly rocked into him. You put your forehead onto his, breathing in each other’s air as Steven quickened the pace, the pressure of his thickness tightening your bundle of nerves. You started to grind onto him, hard and fast, as he held himself steady with the softness of your ass.

The warm pressure of his cock was about to make you come undone. His head was buried in between your breasts, not sucking at them but just breathing you in, just to make sure you were real. That this was real.

Steven pushed his crotch up against you at a pace that you knew would unravel you. Your moans together became more rhythmic.

“Steven, I’m so close, please don’t stop.” You whined. You brought your hand not tangled in his curls to your clit as you began to rub it, this just quickened Steven’s pace as you bounced on his crotch, his hands gripped on your ass so tightly you knew you’d have bruises later.

As your moans got louder, you felt yourself release, your orgasm throbbing throughout your entire body. Steven came quickly after, abruptly stopping as he released his warmth into his boxers. The two of you panted together, heads still connected through your foreheads. Closer than ever.

“Wow.” Steven meekly whispered. “That was better than I ever imagined it would be. Tu es exquis."

”Tu es incroyable.” You whispered back, looking at him as he smiled warmly at you. “See, I’ve been paying attention.”

The two of you laid there for a few moments until Steven went into your bathroom to clean up. You had slowly stripped away your dress and your bra, nestling under your duvet, leaving some space behind you for the wonderful man you were waiting for.

A few moments passed, and you felt his warm body surrounding you, arms around your waist as he lay there naked, reciting Victor Hugo’s romantic poetry into your ear.

“I reckon if I can’t give you a full French lesson, this was the best substitute.” Steven’s hands were circling lazily around your arms and you briefly reminisced about the time when he didn’t even know if a hug was appropriate. And now here he is in your bed, wearing no clothes and reciting poetry into your ear.

Sometimes real life really eclipses fantasy.

“I’d say this absolutely makes up for it, and then some. But… I think we’re going to have to go into double time next lesson to make up for it.” You grinned.

“You’re right, maybe an oral exam will have to do.” Steven awkwardly quipped and you both laughed at his awkwardly adorable attempt at double entendre.

You turned around and opened your arms up towards him. He moved his head towards your chest, arms gripping your waist tightly with the same fervor as earlier, as if you would float away and this was all a dream.

You buried your fingers in his curls, gripping your free hand to the back of his head until you drifted asleep.

Steven Grant, the shy gift shop clerk that had offered you French lessons.

Steven Grant, the brilliant, burgeoning Egyptologist that brightened your life with his stories and his warmth.

Steven Grant. The start of something new.

#steven grant #steven grant smut #steven grant x you #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #steven grant fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight smut #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac x y/n #steven grant x y/n #marvel #mcu #mcu smut #marvel smut

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millerscoffee · 8 months

Note

Hi! Congratulations on your 500 followers!! 🥰🎉

I would like to request “All I can think about is kissing you when I shouldn’t,” A confesses. “You aren’t mine.” with Steven Grant ❤

Thank you! 😘

thank you SO MUCH! yes! absolutely! i haven't written anything moon knight related yet, so i hope this is to your liking! ♡

confession

630 words | steven grant x reader

warning: fluffy fluffy fluff fluff, first kiss, friends to lovers trope, no use of y/n

A/N: this is part of my 500 followers celebration running until 9/9 ♡

This isn't the first time Steven lingered at the embrace of a hug with you, but it was the first time you called him out on it.

“Feeling needy, are we?” you joked, but it didn’t land. Not the way you wanted it to, not the way that brought a smile over his otherwise exhausted features.

“Oh, sorry – I just, you know, you smell really nice, and…,” Steven trailed off, leaving you to tilt your head. Not in confusion, but in suggestion for him to go further. “And?” you pressed, pulling back to get a good look at him.

“It’s silly, really. Rather just leave it,” his strong nose scrunched up with a shrug of his shoulders not far behind.

But you’ve never been one to hide from each other, even at the understanding that he wasn’t always himself. You knew a lot about each other. So why hide now?

“Kind of hard for me to just leave it when this happens all the time,” you looked over your nails – it was hard for you to be vulnerable at times, and Steven knew that. Like he was rooting for you, cheering you on, every step of your way. And you wanted to do the same, just… in the way you knew how.

Steven brought his hand at the base of his neck in contemplation, really deciding if he should just tell you or if he should run away. Not that he would, but it'd be a bit easier to deal with that way, wouldn’t it? You saw the wheels turning in motion when he decided to just go for it.

“It’s just… Please don’t laugh, alright?”

You nodded emphatically in an effort to let him know you were there for him – eager to find out just what it was giving him such trouble.

Steven’s eyes flashed shyly to your lips, then straight back to your eyes like he did something wrong.

“Love,” he started off. This wasn’t new, the pet name, but there was something about it that made the air feel different, “all I can think about is… is k-kissing you. I know I shouldn’t, I know you aren’t mine.”

The end of his sentence left his eyes to the ground, but you stared at him with your mouth slightly agape. But you couldn’t just leave him to wonder, not for a second longer. You found him, your hands on either side of his neck, lips chasing – searching – for the other set. He’s as sweet as you thought he would be, and more eager than you anticipated.

His tender mouth first fumbled over yours, but quickly found its rhythm in satisfying you. It left soft noises to escape from you both, like an offering up to each other. That you both were found out by each other, for each other, in the moment. “Steven,” you whispered, mouth still ghosting against the other set, “if I’d known. If I’d known, Steven.”

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s here now, innit? We’re here, it’s alright.”

His words were enough to soothe you. Bringing your forehead to meet his, you laughed and so did he and it felt perfect. If only for a moment, it felt like everything aligned to perfection.

“You are so brave, you know that?” You praised him, leaving him to blush under your gaze.

“It’s easy when it’s you we’re talking about,” Steven deflected, wrapping his arms around your middle before he could give you a chance to argue.

You lingered in silence for what felt like forever as he held you, and you held him. “I’m not yours?” you challenged, finally letting your words come back into the room.

You had a feeling that would all change.

Your connection with Steven, your places in each other's lives.

All of it.

#steven grant #steven grant fic #steven grant fanfic #steven grant fanfiction #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x gn!reader #steven grant x f!reader #steven grant x m!reader #500 followers prompt

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write4cench · 5 months

Text

kisses and braids.

summary: you braid central cee’s hair, but he seems to be a bit too distracted.

pairs: girlfriendreader x boyfriendcee

genre: fluff + making out?

word count: 1.2k

a/n: idk about u but something about braiding a mans hair just does it for me. 😩

“oakley, if you don’t stop moving i swear your braids won’t turn out right.” you complained as he leaned over to pick up something that he managed to drop on the floor, a smile only grew on his lips amused at your annoyance.

central cee and you were seated in the bedroom of your apartment as he found himself comfortable upon the floor, rested on a pillow within your legs whilst you were seated upon your bed.

it was a random time within the evening when the idea of braids came across his mind and of course he turned to you, pleading for you to braid his hair.

and now here you were, braiding his hair into cornrows and having been doing so for the past hour or so, only getting to about half of his head.

one thing about central cee is that he had a lot of hair, but for some reason despite your advice, he always decided to keep it underneath something.

“shit, does it have to be this tight?” he asks you as his tattooed hand comes to rest upon his newly braided hair, you giggled at his silliness.

“baby i’m sorry, but if you want them to look good for longer they can’t be loose.” you insist to him and he sighs, staring off towards the television in your room.

“i just wanna look good for my show this saturday.” he mumbles as he opens a packet of whatever it is that he decides to eat, eyes glued onto the screen.

you pick out a comb and part his head, pulling apart his hair as you do so. “you always look good, “ you start causing an adorable smile to grow on his lips, “why don’t you just keep your hair out once in a while?” you ask him.

he shrugs his shoulders, “i guess it’s too much work innit, at least now there’ll be something done to it.” he insists, implying towards the braids you do.

you pull off of his head and lean back checking out your job so far, unable to see the front you sigh. “can you like turn this way?” you ask him.

you tilt your head towards him to get a better view of the job you’ve done so far. the two of you make eye contact with one one another and a smile grows upon his lips.

“what’s funny?” you ask him confused, comb in other hand. he smiles brightly and adorably, “nah nothing, you just look cute when you’re focused.”

you roll your eyes upon hearing his words and it only makes him laugh, “shut up.” you mumble. “it’s real cute.” he continues.

the room fell quiet and you turned your focus back onto braiding as neat as you possibly could do so, you were on the final braid luckily so it wasn’t a hard job.

cench was too busy eating upon on the crisps within his hands as he found himself interested in whatever it was that he was watching, one thing about the two of you is although you might not talk a lot with each other, something about the quiet company is comforting.

his hand came to playfully hit against your leg in a rhythmic form, the sudden feeling wasn’t annoying but comforting knowing the way he would be playful with you.

“why are you hitting my leg now?” you ask him, slightly moving after each hit of his hand, he doesn’t stop instead continuing on not uttering an explanation causing you to let out a stressed sigh. "alright i guess you want to be annoying." you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

your hands focus on finish the braid, your hands interwinding his hair between one another as you approach the end, trying to finish it as fast as you possibly can, and when you do you sit back and glance at the finished product.

cench remains seated for a moment, filling his mouth, when he doesn't feel your hands on his hair he turns around to look towards you, eyes wide and hopeful, you beam.

"are we done?" he blinks and you nod your head, he exhales tired yet excitedly whilst you lean over, wrapping your arms around his shoulders pulling him into a hug from behind, he eases into your embrace.

"i'm tired." you yawn as you rest your hands for a short moment, "get some rest." you insists and you refuse, shaking you head.

as soon as you lean back he gets up from the floor, stretching for a short moment and you watch him do so. you take the chance to get up from the bed as well, standing beside him.

"wanna see how it looks?" you manage to say through a yawn, he only looks towards you with thankful eyes, pulling you into his arms.

you almost squeal at the sudden affection, his arms rest against your lower back as he holds you close, his eyes studying yours noticing how you pretend to wish to pull away from him.

"i asked you if you wanted to see your hair, not if you wanted to kiss me." you tell him and he tiredly laughs, arms still holding around onto you. "i don't care, why can't i be close with my girl?"

his head comes to teasingly rest against your shoulder and you giggle as you find a comfort in wrapping your arms over his own, you feel him pecker a few lips onto your skin and since your ticklish a few laughs manage escape through your lips.

"stop." you manage to say through your laughter a hand gently holding onto your head, but he only continues holding you close, you feel his lips form a grin against the skin of your neck.

as soon as he pulls apart you meet eye contact once again, you don't utter a word instead your smile lingers upon your lips and one mirrors upon his own. you lean in, your lips meeting his and he doesn't hesitate to kiss you back.

you kiss one another a passionate moment, enjoying the feeling. the sound of your lips against one another sounds throughout the silence and the comfort of your bedroom. you forget about everything, instead you're focused about spending this moment with the man who you truly love.

you pull away from the kiss when you feel it begin to grow a little too heated, feeling the tingles and sparks that flow throughout your body. playfully you push him away from you, his arms widen and his mouth drops jokingly confused yet enjoying the act.

"we need to stop there." you tell him warningly, it almost as if he knows the affect you have on him since he doesn't complain and you know that he knows.

"alright." he simply says.

nothing but love fills his eyes and it's almost as if you always catch yourself smiling whenever you're with him. "i love you." you say.

he remains quiet for a good moment, realising he's about to catch himself saying something he never thought he would, you watch him expectantly watching how his lips agape to utter the words, just when he's about to he buries his head into his hands.

"i love you too."

#cench #central cee #central cee imagines #central cee smut #central cee x reader #central cee x you #centralceeedit #central cee x y/n #central cee fluff

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slut4sugu · 10 months

Text

— I CAN DO YOU BETTER ! [hobie brown x fem!black reader]

✮ including : college!au, bestfriend!hobie, readers ex is a dick, fingering, hobie being a tease, use of the names: doll, pretty thing, sweetheart, princess. cursing, cunnilingus, mention of weed and alcohol. ✮ Summary: Your best friend hobie comforts you after getting broken up with over the phone with your ex, and gives you the treatment you’ve always deserved ✮ a word from kam: yall this literally took me all day to do I hope you like it! (I took a lot of breaks my lazy ass), kinda felt this one a lil bit bc this situation kinda happened to me,from now on just expect these type of posts to take 1-2 days bc I wanna make it nice and long (yo pause) for all of you to enjoy! ✮ Genre: Angst-Fluff-Smut

6 LONG MONTHS YOU SPENT; trying to salvage whatever was left of yourself when you and your ex broke up. You never truly felt as though you would be whole again, nights alone feeling more lonely than they should. Your heart hanging heavy as the full moon in the sky, each night feeling empty. No sweet Goodmorning texts or random flowers at your doorstep. Just radio silence, as if the world had stood still. Left to your thoughts, until you slowly started to get over the break up. Long days that were once spent in your bed now, turning into short trips out of your dorm to try and push yourself to go outside. Your smile slowly starting to return as you started to focus more on yourself, taking self care days after finishing your homework for your classes. Even mustering up the courage to go to a party one of your friends held, who almost cried seeing you turn up at her door. “Oh my god, y/n?!” She closed the door behind her and pulled you in for a hug, “You look so pretty! And damn did your boobs get bigger-“ You rolled your eyes at the darkskinned girl with a smile, “Hey Mads, thought I would stop by to come see you.” The girl gave you a “Bitch be for real.” look. “And because you have some good ass alcohol.” “Yes the hell I do! And some fine ass niggas are in here girl.” She whispered shouted, her brown eyes getting bigger as she said this. Grabbing your hand she reached for the doorknob, “You ready girl?” You adjusted the chain of your purse on your bare shoulder before nodding, not expecting Maddie to literally pull pull you into the big dorm.

Weed and Pheromones filled the air as you looked around the room, the led lights giving the dorm a certain ambience as you felt the girl let go of your hand. “I’m gonna go get us a drink! I’ll come find you later!” You nodded, before making your way to a thankfully empty couch in the living space. The music at a comfortable level (as to not get a noise complaint), people you’ve seen in class now smoking and drinking to take a breather from all the snappy proffesors they had to deal with all week. You sighed, before sitting down. Rethinking the slightly revealing shimmery dress you wore, though you reassured yourself that it was cute before opening your white purse to distract yourself on your phone. While texting your sister (who was a bit too noisy) you felt someone sit down on the couch besides you. You looked up to see a dark skin guy, with wicks and all types of piercings and silver jewelry. ‘Damn he’s hot’ You thought to yourself, almost catching his gaze that was focused on the blunt in between his fingers a moment ago. Your eyes went back to texting your sister, before hearing a voice ask, “Loud party innit?” You almost jumped at the question, making the stranger next to you laugh. “Didn’t mean to scare you doll.” He let out a cloud of smoke which added to the already weed filled dorm room. You shook your head briefly, “No your fine, its just-“ Your eyes then saw Maddie giggling and laughing with another dude who was leaned up against the wall. “So much for my drink.” You muttered to yourself, though with a small smile. It was time one of your single friends got some action. “Got dragged here?” You hesitated before answering, “Not really?” You fiddled with one of your braids, looking down at the floor. “I kinda dragged myself here. I wanted to get out of my depressin ass dorm and just do something.” You stated, not feeling the gaze of hobies eyes on the side of your face.

“They were a douche bag huh?” You sat up straight, turning to look at his face in confusion. “What do you mean?” “The look on the face you just had? I’ve seen it on half of the blokes here. Heartbreak.” He took another drag of the blunt, your mind some reason minding it somewhat attractive how he held it between his two fingers. His gaze once more making your eyes pull away, “You wanna try doll?” You smiled at the nickname but declined, “I’m good, maybe another time. I gotta make sure i get back to my own dorm this time.” You explained, your choice of words peaking hobies interest, “This time?” You nodded, letting out a small sigh before pulling out a small flask from your bag and taking a swig. “Careful now, don’t want you tellin me you whole life story cuz your drunk.” You laughed, “No no, I’m fine. This is hardly strong, just something to take the edge off before I told you what uh my trifling ass ex did to me.”

Which is exactly what you did, told your first experience of a shitty boyfriend, to a complete stranger, though who wouldn’t be for long after asking if you wanted to go somewhere more quiet to talk. Which led to a 2 hour conversation on a vacant balcony of the resident building. You left out no details as you told every single thing he did, every special occasion he missed, every date, every anniversary and even your walk on graduation day. Hobie started to notice the tears welling up in your pretty eyes as you told him how excited you were to be graduating, and going to college. Only to have your boyfriend miss it to go have a phone call with his ex. Your voice started to waver, and your vision started to blur. Not being able to help when the tears came flooding own your cheeks. “its okay doll he can’t toy with your heart anymore.” His voice calming you down, your tears slowed. The light of the moon casting a soft glow on your figure, causing your tear stained cheeks and slightly ruined makeup to look breathtaking to hobie. Your glittery dress complementing your figure and taunting him to pull you flush against your chest and tell you everything is gonna be alright. Though in awe of your beauty he felt slight anger for the asshole who made a pretty girl like you cry. His hand going to rub your bare shoulder in circles, the feeling of his touch ticklish yet soothing. “Thank you.” You small sweet voice causing hobies heart to swell, “No problem, don’t thank me for human decency luv.”

────────── 🎸 . Months later <33. ─────────────────

As you sat on hobies bed wearing one of hobies band tees you thought back to when the two of you both met, and thankful you are to have him in your life now. You stared into space with a slight smile on your face as you daydreamed about him, his smirk when he knows he’s right. How his sweatpants hang deliciously low on his waist, how hot his hands looked adorned with silver rings. Your daze was soon interrupted by sound of a door opening. You practically skipped over to the living room too see him, “Finallyyy, I swear to god hobes if you were trying to figure out what candy to get-“ “Listen luv you were the one who told me you like mike n Ike’s, pocky and sour patch kids.” Hobie stated, putting down the plastic bags that were full of snacks and carbonated drinks on the counter. You were so eager to find your snacks you couldn’t feel the gaze of hobies wandering eyes peaking into your shirt to see your boobs, your sexy black bra strap taunting him as you leaned forward to further search the bags. Allowing the guitar player to get a glimpse of the valley of your breasts. Though you weren’t naive, you knew that hobie would check you out at times, even if he claims to ‘see something stuck to your clothes’ you know he’s taking a peek. As you finally got your pick of snacks you put all of them in one bag and carried it back to hobies bedroom. “Don’t make a mess shorty.” You flipped him off, earning a laugh from the giant. (THIS ISNT EVEN AN EXAGGERATION THAT MF IS LIKE 6’3) Getting comfortable under his sheets you stopped and realized how this looks, how your wearing his t-shirt, how he calls you kind of sweet nicknames, how you’ve slept in his bed multiple times. The list went on, though you tried to hush your thoughts since Hobie most likely didn’t mean anything by it..right? “Whats got your head in the clouds hm?” You jumped, turning your head to see him leaning against the doorframe with a slight smirk on his handsome face. ‘Why the fuck is he so hot-‘ “Nothing, get in here so we can finish watching this please. And please close the door, those dumbasses next door don’t know how to turn they’re music the fuck down.”

It was always a delight seeing you get slightly mad, your sudden ability to talk fast as hell and your annoyed face is just adorable to hobie. He got comfortable in the bed besides you, taking the blue box of candy out of your lap quickly and getting some out. “Already told them to turn it down when you were sleepin one night.” He stated, putting the candy box back in your lap. “You got a cute sleeping face luv.” You elbowed him in his rib cage despite the flutter in your stomach. Distracting yourself you grabbed the remote and began to turn to the horror movie you were watching with hobes last night. The feeling of his skin touching yours overwhelming your senses specifically tonight, the normal ticklish feeling was normal but tonight it felt different. Come to think of it the air between you both felt different as well, more flirty and touchy lately. Your thoughts ran wild as you desperately tried to put your finger on why you feel so weird around hobie lately. Noticing your lack of attention to a woman literally being stabbed hobie pinched your side, “Ow! What the hell-” You looked up at the brunette with a furrowed brows only to be met with a curious hobie, “What in the hell are you thinking about? Barbie just got stabbed to death and your head is in the clouds.” You laugh at the nickname hobie had given the hot blonde, “Sorry sorry, but Baube? Really dude?” You mocked his accent only to be met with an eyeroll, while you erupted in a fit of laughter. “Alright since you wanna laugh so much,” as you felt hobies fingers tickling your sides your laughter grew louder as you squirmed trying to get away. The horror movie now just background music as you twisted and turned.

“Okay!-Okay, I’m sorry!” You pleaded with him as you rolled into his side, finally catching your breath you looked up at him. A slight smirk tugging at is pierced lips, his eyes clouded with a film of slight desire. His hands that were once at your sides shifted down to your hips,“You look cute in my shirt shorty.” He teased, “Though you look hot in black lace.” Despite your brown skin a very faint tint of red flushed on your cheeks at that moment. His voice, touch, scent, shit his fucking pheromones made your body react in ways you’ve never thought you would before. So when you pressed your lips against his in the heat of the moment you were quick to pull back and realize what you just did. “I’m sorry hobie, I didn’t mean to-“ A kiss on your forehead caused the words you were once going to say, to then die on your tongue. “I’m pretty sure you meant to luv, but do you want me to kiss you?” You eyes widened at the question, your heart racing as he loomed over you. You hesitated before letting out a small, “please.”

In return hobies lips crashed into yours, his hand tightening the grip around your waist as he did so. Your hands found its way to the side of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Your body feeling hoot and cold from his touch, the kiss hungry yet passionate. A tent formed in his pants as he heard you moans into the kiss, drinking up every single gasp and sound your pretty voice let out. Moving ontop of you, he broke the kiss to attack your neck with small ones and bites. Earning moans and gasp from you, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this for.” He whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine in result. Kisses trailed down your neck and to your collar-bone, it looked like you were about to take the shirt off but he stopped you. “I wanna fuck you with it on, it looks so sexy on you love.” You smiled softly despite your core throbbing at the mere sound of his voice, kissing him sweetly this time. “I love you hobie.” You confessed, looking up at him with those eyes.

The eyes he’d always wanted to see from you, filled with love and admiration. The kind of eyes that you gave to your asshole of an ex who didn’t appreciate the literal goddess in front of him. Hobie swore his heart stopped when he heard you pretty lips say those 4 little words. Who was he to not say it back? “I love you too doll, so fuckin much.” Kissing you back your heart melted, he gave you one more small kiss on your soft lips before sitting up on his knees, his hands going down to the waistband of your shorts, his eyes looking at yours for approval. Once you gave him a reassuring nod he tugged them off hungrily, throwing them across his bedroom long forgotten now. Only leaving you in matching lacy black panties to go with your bra, “Such a pretty girl..” He said out loud, though sounded if he were saying it to himself. He pushed the band tee up your torso to kiss your stomach all the way down to your v-line. His low eyes looked at you once more for approval and once you gave the okay he teased you with kisses on the inner side of your thigh. The cold metal of his lip piercing on such a sensitive spot caused you to moan slightly louder than you expected, which earned a groan out of hobie. “You sound so fuckin pretty ma, wanna hear you scream my name.” As his kisses slowly trailed up you started to grow impatient, whining his name which just made the bulge in his pants grow more uncomfortable. “Please ‘bee, I want you.” Your dripping sex, aching for his touch

God your fucking killing him, despite seeming unfazed and teasing every single thing you did drove hobie up the wall. Your voice, your body, the way you would style your braids at night, those pretty fucking eyes that look to him with need and desperation. “Mm, ask me properly.” You whined, before getting a nibble on a nerve that shut you up quick. “Hobie please..I want your tongue in me. Please.” He could’ve came at that moment had he not held himself back, “Alright pretty girl, I got you.” Despite his sweet words he ripped your panties off making you pout, “I’ll buy you prettier ones don’t worry doll.” Spreading your legs revealed your aching cunt, the cold air hitting your sex making you feel exposed. Not long after hobie kissed your clit before dining on your pussy, his tongue lapping up your folds causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. Your manicured nails clawing the sheets, as you whimpered and moaned your bestfriends name. Your eyes rolling back as he picked up his at first slow pace with his tongue, your back arching so pretty off his bed that’s now smelt like your sex.

“It’s cuffing seasonnn-“

Your phone began to ring, annoyance turning into slight fear as you saw the caller ID. Hobie smirked, picking up the phone besides you to answer it. Sitting back up on his knees in the process leaving a small lewd string of saliva from your cunt to his lips,“Yo y/n look I’ve been thinking about you and-“ “Gonna stop you right there mate, y/n isn’t fuckin interested in asshats like yourself,” Despite his passive aggressive voice, the sudden feeling of two fingers rubbing against your folds then slipping inside your hole once lubricated made you let out a high pitch moan. “The fuck was that?” You slapped a hand over your mouth, causing hobie to put the phone on speaker leaving it on the bed to gently pull your hand away. “Let me hear how good im making you feel love.” His tone now soft as he spoke to you, you nodded, receiving a long kiss from hobie as he slowly started to scissor is fingers into you. Taking a mental note of how your cunt practically sucked him in, your soft walls squeezing his digits tight. Causing a abnormal amount of precut to leak out of the tip of his dick. Hobie now become eager to see his long thought of fantasy play out before him. A fantasy his jerked himself off to almost every night, seeing you lose your mind of pleasure because of him. Eager to find your g-spot, eager to see your pretty face contort as you cum on his fingers. Eager for your shitty ex to hear how much better hobie fucks you than he ever could.

You grinded your hips down on his fingers, yearning for the sweet release not caring anymore about your pathetic ex on the phone trying to win you back. All you wanted, all you needed in this moment was hobie. One curl against your sweet spot snapped you out of your thoughts and caused the dorm to be filled with your sounds as you neared your high, your nipples hard against the fabric of hobies shirt, your senses overloaded as you focused on the feeling of his finger scissoring you to your climax. A hand went up to squeeze his forearm, “Please don’t fuckin stop bee, please don’t m’ so close.” Looking up at him with lust filled eyes, made hobie lose it. He continued to pump his fingers inside your pulsating cunt, hitting that sweet spot so deliciously causing your mouth to form in an ‘o’ as you arched off the bed again. Your chest against his as the coil in your stomach began to unwrap. Your moans grew dangerously loud as sopping noises filled the room, your vision starting to turn white as your legs begun to shake. “Let go for me princess, I got you.” Whispers from hobie drew you even closer, his breath tickling your ear as his voice drove you insane. One kiss under your ear and a few rubs from his thumb on your clit was all it took for your legs to clamp around hobies hand and cum. Moaning out hobies and a few curses your spasmed around his digits. Your grip on his forearm now loosened, as you slowly came down from your high. Your body now weak and sensitive hobie pulled his fingers out of your cunt, admiring the mess you made on them before licking them clean.

You notice your ex hung up a while ago, but couldn’t care less as you let out a couple tired giggles. “You love meee.” He let out an airy laugh, “Yeah I do. Someone has to love your crazy ass.” You rolled your eyes before pulling him in a deep kiss tasting your slick on his tongue, your hands went to cup his face. Only pulling back when you’re both breathless and smiling. “I love you hobie.” Your eyes shining with happy tears and love, “What am I going to do with you huh? Such a whiner.”

“Oh kiss my ass, you literally love me.”

Bonus <333

As you began to feel sleep take over you, you notice hobie about to go into the bathroom before catching a slightly big stain on the front of his sweats. “Bee?” He hummed in response, “Did you cum while eatin me out?” That iconic smirk made its way back on his face, “Maybe, blame your pretty ass moans for that luv.”

BACK TO THE EVENT

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jakecockley · 2 years

Text

- y las empanadas? -

✧ pairing: jake lockley x f!reader (main) , marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader

✧ summary: jake comes home tired after a long week of work as moon knight and his alters bickering on the way there. but he's heartfelt as soon as he sees his favorite food on the table... and most of all, you in one of his shirts.

✧ genre: fluff/suggestive

✧ warnings: inaccurate depictions of DID/sexual undertone/cursing/nothing hardcore, this is tame

✧ word count: 1.2k

✧ author's note: wooo ok, my third fic let's go. jake calling u spanish nicknames should be its own genre jiji also UM GUYS HELLO ??? THE 1K LIKES ON "your smile, you're everything" ?? IM SIJODFHERUG i am legit screaming guys u have no idea how that made me so happy !! i love y'all sm, ty for all the reblogs and likes, especially the comments :') aside from that, ty @marc-spectorr for the help on coming up with this prompt when i legit have no ideas rn. ur the best, ily !!

(also, hello ?? THE GIF ?? sir please-)

Jake had one hand on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road as he quietly hummed to a song by Joan Sebastián, which eventually ended and another came on by Juanes.

He liked putting on songs while he drove, especially the ones currently playing. They reminded him of you.

Plus, it relaxed him and he needed a lot of relaxation after all the... well, things he had to do for Khonshu, but not just him of course, Marc, and... Steven, too, Jake supposed. Him and Marc just did most of the fighting and tracking down, and Steven handled the talking, at least, he tried to.

Speaking of the British man...

"Oi, when is it my turn to choose a song, bruv? You've been playing your own for the last 20 minutes. Bit unfair, innit?" Steven huffed, eyebrow arched, looking at Jake through the glass window of the cab.

His alter looked back at him with a groan, lowering the volume of the song, "Te quiero decir una cosa, hermano, your songs are just not as good as mine. Sad but honest truth, eh?" Jake replied playfully, shrugging his broad shoulders.

Marc simply rolled his eyes at the man driving. "Well, I do gotta agree with him, Steven. Your taste is... questionable."

"Oi! That's not true..." Steven mumbled, "(Name) listens to my songs, I consider that a win, mate," he confidently added, crossing his arms defensively.

"She listens to everything, buddy, hate to break it to you."

"Oh! Speaking of (Name), I can't wait for us to see her!" Steven exclaimed excitedly with a smile, turning over to Marc, his hands pressed to his heart cutely.

"It's difficult being away from her for so long, I missed her," he frowned.

Marc chuckled at Steven, who had lovesick puppy eyes. He always did whenever he spoke of you. "Yeah, believe me, me too."

Jake, on the other hand, simply gave a small smile at the two, saying nothing. He was also thinking of seeing you.

He didn't show it much when you weren't around, but he was just as in love with you like his alters. Even with the tiredness he somewhat felt, he still was excited to see you, especially your smile and the way your laugh sounded, like music to his ears. Coming home to you was the only thing he looked forward to.

❨

Eventually, he was home and parked his cab at the usual spot.

Jake grabbed his keys and opened the door to their apartment. As soon as he was in, he noticed the plate of empanadas on the small dinner table the four of you owned.

He smiled warmly at that.

It only grew more when he saw you in the kitchen, barely turning around to see him just as he was taking off his flat cap and hanging it on a coat hook that was by the door. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it as well.

Oh.

He noticed something, though. Were those one of his shirts that you were wearing? Yep, it was. The poor man could feel his pants tighten by the sight in front of him. He smoothed back his curly, ebony locks with a hand, eyes solely focusing on you.

Fuck, he was right. Coming home to you was the best thing.

You squealed his name, going over to him as fast as you could. Although it was super obvious it was Jake, you could always tell the difference between who was who without needing them to speak. All you needed was one look at their body language and bingo. You knew them too well.

"Hey amor," Jake laughed, your arms going around his neck before locking your lips with his, smiling into the kiss. Breaking it off, his lips brushed down to your neck, pressing them against your pulse point, feeling just how excited you were to see him. You pulled away from him with a giggle and gave him a cute smooch on the cheek playfully.

"How was everything?" He asked you, while his eyes roamed over your entire body, specifically admiring the way your legs looked. His large hands placed themselves on your waist, hugging the curves, then low on your hips. He felt the prominent line of your underwear, thumb skimming over it.

It was funny to him. You were in a simple ass shirt and still, you looked effortlessly hot.

You noticed his gaze, his touch, and felt a small shiver go down your spine. Even one year into dating, he never failed to make you feel this way. Damn him.

He smirked and before he could let you answer his question, he replaced it with another. “That my shirt, sweetheart?" His voice low and husky.

You looked up at him innocently and grinned. He would never get over the way your smile brightened up the room. He stared at you, not wanting to look away even for a second. His heart grew twice its size, if that was possible, anyways.

"Maayybe, is that a problem, Mr. Lockley?" You chuckled at him, grabbing his hands that were once on your hips and pulling him to the kitchen. You kept one hand interlocked while the other grabbed an empanada and brought it to his mouth, "This one's of pineapple. Made enough for the three of you. The strawberry vegan ones are in the fridge for Steven."

As Jake took a bite out of the dessert with a chortle, finding it adorable that you even made vegan ones for his alter, you continued speaking. Oh, did he hope you didn't hear his heart beat each second. You had cooked for them, a sweet gesture that he couldn't wrap around his head. For all three of them? Dios, he only loved you more for it.

And bonus, you were in his shirt.

"I think I outdid myself with the empanadas, no?" You smiled up at him, taking a bite as well.

You groaned at the sweet taste. "Oh no, I definitely did!" You looked back at the empanada in your hand, lips stretching up to a grin.

Jake watched you exclaim happily with triumph, to which he laughed in response, the sound deep and rich, "Yes, yes, you did. One of the best I've ever tasted."

Your face lit up in less than a second, "Really? Y-- whoa!" You suddenly found yourself sitting down at the kitchen counter, Jake's grip tight on your hips. Your legs tightened around his waist instinctively. His rough, callused hands roamed down your thighs before hooking themselves on the backs of your knees. He pulled you in further, making your breath hitch in your throat at the proximity. Faces so close, your nose brushed against his.

Jake gave a small smile, mischief dancing in those dark, half-lidded eyes of his.

Your hands settled on his shoulders. One of his own slowly trailed up your inner thigh, wandering underneath the fabric of your shirt, closer and closer to your aching core. You whimpered as his fingers toyed with the edge of your panties, sultry lips ghosting over the curve of your jawline, up to your ear. He chuckled softly.

"I think we can eat the empanadas later, mamita."

✧ translation: "te quiero decir una cosa, hermano" = "i want to tell you one thing, brother"

•

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c1phyb4ra · 9 months

Text

˚∘ꕤ⟬ Am I still him? ⟭ꕤ∘˚

Ghost x GN!Reader

CW: None, just fluff and some discussions of struggling with sense of self. Vague mentions of paranoia.

𓆩Hello lovies! Just dumping some fluff with Simon :3. Also working on a request I got about Soap so that'll be coming sometime soon. Feel free to leave and ask/request, all are welcomed! <3 𓆪

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧

Tonight was restless. It seems to happen more often lately, given that the deployments were getting more brutal. No matter how much I scrub my body, the smell of blood never seems to come off.

But that's just life in the military. Delightful, innit?

The halls of the base were quiet and dark. Lights out had been hours ago but sleep still evaded me. The cold floor chilled my feet, despite the socks I wore. The quiet rustle of my night clothes seemed deafening in the late hours but I persevered until I reached the room of the person I trusted the most in this godforsaken place.

I slipped into Ghost's quarters using the key he entrusted me with, for emergencies only. 'Surely my paranoia would be emergency enough.' I thought to myself as I closed the door behind me and locked it. His room was dark and cold. The one window illuminated the room with the soft moonlight peeking through. I saw Ghost's form on the bed, seemingly asleep until he spoke.

"Who the fuck is in my room at this hour? Johnny, if that's you then keep in mind that I'm always armed." Ghost grumbled.

"I keep a gun under my pillow and a knife in the boat between the bed frame and mattress. Gotta be prepared" I said as I stood awkwardly in the middle of his room. Ghost sits up, looking at me with a raised brow. I look away as I feel his piercing gaze on me, feeling exposed even in the dark. His deep gravelly voice filled the room again.

"Are people just coming into people's rooms now without knocking?" He asks, grumpy as always. Though he had a valid reason in this instance given that I had barged into his room in the middle of the night. Regret and guilt course through my veins as I back away slightly.

"I... Sorry. I'll go." I murmured as I turned to leave.

"No, no," Ghost says quickly. "You can stay. I just, uh, thought you were someone else."

Then he groans, flopping back down onto his bed and turning away from me. The muscles of his back flexed as he scooted himself closer to the other end of his bed.

"If you're staying, make yourself at home." He grunts. I close the door and lock it behind me. I cautiously made my way over to Simon's bed and crawled into it, my body facing his bare back.

He still has his mask on, but it's the type that only covers the bottom half of his face. His short and tufty dirty blonde hair seemed to glow in the moonlight as he laid on his bed. Smudged eyeblack still seems to be stuck on his face, the paint making his gaze seem more gaunt and corpse-like. Ghost sighs and rolls back over, looking at me.

"Look, I'm not exactly in the greatest mood right now. So if you could just let me sleep, that'd be great."

But there's a softness in his tone that tells me he doesn't mean what he's saying. A certain softness he ways seemed to reserve for me.

"S-sorry. I just... I couldn't fall asleep and didn't trust myself to be alone." I mumbled but shied away from Ghost to give him space. Ghost looked at me for a moment, his eyes wary as he watches me curl up into a ball a good foot away from him. After a few seconds, he sighs.

"Fine. Just... come closer." He motions to the empty side of his bed.

"No it's okay, I've already bothered you enough," I whisper.

"I offered," Ghost says softly. "Now come here." I looked up at him, my eyes locking in with his as I obey him.

"...Sorry."

"Shhh," Ghost says gently, as he pulled me close.

My body is suddenly flush against his, while his face is close enough that I can feel his breath tickle the top of my head.

"Just get some sleep," He murmurs, his strong forearm wrapped around my torso.

"Are you sure I'm not making you uncomfortable? You don't usually like being touched." I whisper in the dark.

"I'm always uncomfortable," Ghost says dryly.

His voice is quiet, but I could detect a tinge of affection in his tone right now.

"Mm, that's painfully relatable," I murmured as I layed there close to him. Ghost looked down at me and sighed.

"You know, you remind me a lot of someone." He murmurs.

You have a feeling he's not talking about any of your squad members.

"Who?" I ask curiously.

"...my mum." He murmurs.

Ghost stares up at the ceiling, still with that soft expression.

"You ever love someone so much that it still hurts just to think of them?" He asked, his sudden question catching me off guard. Eventually, I answer.

"There are a lot of people I loved in the past that I now regret not loving them the way I should have. Now it's just distant bittersweet memories. A yearning for what could have been." I confess quietly. Ghost chuckles, his voice tinged with sadness.

"I never thought I'd find someone who felt the same way I did." His deep sigh rang in my ears.

"I'm sure a lot of people think I hate everyone... but that's not true." He turns to look at the ceiling, his eyes distant and clouded as if recalling something painful.

"I do care about people. It's just hard to tell because most of the time I don't want to get close to anyone." Ghost admitted, his response feeling more open and vulnerable. It was so out of character for Ghost that I couldn't help but feel nervous.

"I always felt like you pushed everyone away to protect them and yourself from getting hurt. You push away your needs deep down in your heart because you'll always put others before yourself. But you deserve to be taken care of and loved too." I reply as I sink into the pillows that carry Ghost's comforting scent.

Ghost blinked at me in surprise. His voice is a low murmur. "You sure are perceptive." He says. Then he sighs.

"You always make me do and say things I'd rather not. And it annoys me because you're right."

I took a deep breath, processing his words. I've never heard Ghost so open like this before. It's surreal being this close to him.

"Come closer," He murmurs.

I do as told and scoot my body closer to Simon. His warmth heated my body as I curled up into his side, his firm bicep cradling my neck.

"I just like to observe people. I've also noticed that you tend to neglect your physical health, maybe because you don't feel like you deserve to take care of yourself. And you hide behind the mask because with the mask you're simply Ghost the silent killing machine, while Simon hides deep inside you, still hurting from everything he's been through." I said. Ghost gave me an incredulous look as he thought through my words. Then he groans.

"Why did you have to make all of that sound so accurate?"

I chuckled as I smiled at him. I couldn't help but acknowledge the feeling that he finds it annoying to be understood when he's struggled his whole life to be invisible.

"But you know what?" He adds softly. "It... it feels nice."

"Don't feel like you have to keep up your cold stern facade around me. You're allowed to be vulnerable and you're allowed to have feelings. You are deserving of love and care, even if you don't believe it." I said softly as the rain lightly tapped on the window. Ghost stared at me for a moment before chuckling quietly.

"You're not good for my ego," he mumbles. "Because you're literally telling me everything I don't want to hear." Then he sighs.

"Can I just ask you something? A strange question?"

"Of course," I reply. Ghost stares up at the ceiling for a moment. He doesn't quite know how to say what he's thinking, as usual. But after a few moments, he speaks.

"You know... I'm good at my job. Being Ghost. The soldier. The killer. The emotionless machine." He says.

"But I'm not just Ghost, and being with you tonight reminds me there's so much more to me." He murmurs.

"Why... why do you make me feel like I could do something other than kill? Why does that make me feel happy?"

"Because you're not just a lieutenant, you're also Simon Riley. A human being with complex thoughts and emotions. And that's okay. It's normal and it's nothing to be ashamed of. I like Ghost, but I also really like Simon." I say as I lay in bed. Ghost hesitates as if he's trying to figure out what to say. He seems oddly vulnerable right now.

"Do you... do you think it's possible to go back, to being Simon?" He murmurs.

I was surprised. He'd never expressed that kind of desire before. He's always accepted being Ghost, even though it clearly ate away at him at times.

"You've always been Simon. You just kept him hidden away due to the fear of losing more and more of yourself to this job." I say reassuringly. Ghost closes his eyes, trying to process my words.

"Do you really think the old Simon is still there?" He asks quietly.

"Yes, Simon. I fully believe that." I said sweetly, his real name rolling off of my tongue. Ghost stares up at the ceiling for a long time before speaking again.

"I... don't know why you'd still like me after everything I've done." He murmurs.

I read Simon like a book, his thoughts that we're usually so well hidden we're now put on display for me to see. He doesn't feel like he deserves to be Simon anymore, that much was clear. I sighed softly as I pressed my forehead to his.

"All you've done is your duty as a member of our squad. We're all a part of keeping a semblance of peace in his chaotic world." I tell him softly. Ghost stares up at me for a long time before nodding.

"You're too sweet on me." He murmurs. I chuckle and press a light kiss on his forehead.

"Can you blame me? I think you're certainly the most." I titter.

I notice him starting to close his eyes--a sign of feeling safe and with someone he can trust. Oddly catlike for him, which was endearing.

"I want to be Simon again." He murmurs.

"I understand, love," I answered as I sat up and nudged him to lay his head on my lap. Once he did, I softly ran my fingers through his short blond hair. My nails lightly scratched his scalp in a soothing motion as I began to hum a quiet lullaby. As I did this I watched him as, slowly but surely, Simon starts to relax.

His breathing slows and he relaxes into my lap. His eyes are closed, and he could practically be considered asleep.

For the first time in a long time, he's Simon. Not Ghost. His fears and insecurities still linger, but the guard is down.

As the minutes tick by I keep humming the lullaby quietly in his ear, running my fingers through his hair.

"Rest, lovie. I'm here for you. I'll be here to keep you safe. Just rest, I've got you." I say quietly as I keep massaging his scalp. Ghost looked up at me, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Lovie..." He murmurs. "No one's called me that in a long time."

He scoots closer until he's cradled in my lap. He smiles softly, then leans his head on your chest and closes his eyes. His breathing slows as he starts to fall asleep.

"Good night, darling. Rest well. I'll be here taking care of you. Always." I whispered as I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, still humming. I felt Simon's arm wrap around my waist as he sleeps.

In this moment, a rush of intense affection washed throughout my body. I relished in the feeling of being loved, needed, and valued. For the first time in a long time, it didn't feel like someone is trying to take advantage of me or hurt me.

As I hummed the lullaby softly, Simon nuzzles into your chest. My heartbeat quickened from the feeling of being held in high regard by someone who found it hard to trust.

Eventually, I fall asleep too, still holding Simon close as we shared this sweet and intimate moment. Lowering our guards around each other, our bodies seemingly fit perfectly together.

Then the night slipped away, leaving us in our living embrace. A heavenly moment, if I do say so myself.

☆ Hope you enjoyed! All likes/comments/reblogs are super appreciated since it helps push my work to more people. Take care now, ily!! <3 ☆

#simon riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #x reader #cod #cod ghost #cod modern warfare #ghost #ghost fluff #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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