fuzzyadorabledccomicsgarden

Latest Posts by fuzzyadorabledccomicsgarden

Dude I’m so tired of seeing this shit about the remmick thirst and fanfic…be so for real, ITS A VAMPIRE. HE HAS LAYERS. HES INTERESTING. Outside of being a handsome ass man and an alluring vampire, he is a character that we don’t know much about. We just know that he’s a bad guy, the villian who thinks he’s the hero. I am a black woman. Yes, the mf ain’t shit. He recked havoc and tried to force submission. Yes he used manipulation; when hasn’t a vampire done so to get what they want? Other vampires use compulsion….yall okay with that? I never seen any complaints with them making someone do something against their will….No, it wasn’t okay. However, as Ryan has stated, HE DID SO BECAUSE HE FELT HE RESONATED WITH THEM. Once again, his actions are not justified, but it shows that he wasn’t doing what he was doing with ill intention. He thought he was helping more than hurting, in his own twisted way. That’s what makes him a complex character. That’s what make ppl want to know more about him. His past, his struggle. I’m not saying he’s more important than other characters but it does make you want to dive deeper. We know nothing about him…dangerous, intriguing…just like a vampire is supposed to be. Yall act like this the first time ppl have romanticized the villian. Hannibal was a cannibal, ppl thirst over him. Joe Goldberg, no different. Lestat, abuser, yall let ppl thirst over him. Like can we please understand that we have two sides of our brains and we can use both. We see what the movie is conveying!!!! WE ALSO SEE A NEW HOT VILLAIN THATS LITERALLY A FANTASY! NOT REAL!!! Irl, I wouldn’t even waste my time on a mf like remmick, but baby this ain’t real. He can get it!

I keep seeing ppl claiming “no one let the film digest before they started with the remmick fics.” Yall do realize, when writers get an idea, that shit needs to be written out as soon as they can because it eats away at their thoughts or it get so bad to the point they can’t concentrate on anything? Like damn just let ppl be. If yall don’t feel the same about him, let it be and ignore it. It wasn’t for your consumption clearly. I respect those opinions and I definitely understand them. But it’s tumblr bro, let it be. 🥱

Thinking about reader always sharing her water with Hotch to remind him to hydrate ehehe. She sets reminders to make sure he actually does hydrate and makes sure to tell the others to do the same as well

gentle reminders

here's everyone's reminder to hydrate!!! cw; established relationship, bau!reader, fluff!

if it weren't for you, the only liquid aaron would mainly consume would be coffee. in such a demanding occupation, especially at his high authority, it made sense.

had trouble sleeping or didn't get enough? coffee. dreading a meeting and needed to be rejuvenated? coffee. had no other choice but to stay up into the early hours of the morning doing paperwork? coffee. the list was seemingly endless.

as a result, you've taken it upon yourself to ensure dehydration didn't strike him, especially from all the dilution coffee itself produced. if he's drinking that much of it, he could at least counteract it by drinking equal the amounts of water. and regardless, he should be consuming more water to begin with; making it more of a habit. his usual excuse of 'forgetting', wasn't going to cut it anymore.

and if he's going to listen to anyone, it's going to be you.

you've preemptively set several reminders throughout the day to better aaron's water intake. your ringer was just loud enough - if tucked in your bag or drawer to gain only your awareness - mindful of it's possible obnoxiousness in the bullpen. if it were to go off loudly several times throughout the workday, it would surely be a reason for complaints. while out in the field, like now, you simply set it on vibrate.

the familiar buzz grabbed your attention, your eyes moving downward to your phone. the screen's lit; the notification of the reminder displayed in the middle.

conveniently, aaron happened to be seated at your left, discussing the geographic profile with spencer and the lead officer, narrowing down the unsub's comfort zone. you screwed open the cap of your water bottle, the seal producing a minor snap, and gingerly setting it down afterwards.

not wanting to interrupt, you simply tugged on aaron's sleeve to gain his attention. his eyes darted towards you in question, and slowly, you slid the opened bottle in his direction.

a gentle, amused almost-laugh puffed out of his nose, not surprised as this was routine at this point, and obeyed. once he managed to find a break within the ongoing conversation, did he grab the water and take a hearty swig. his eyes refound yours, flickering with a warm glint.

it caused your heart to flutter; aaron's eyes softening at your gesture. the quick switch between stoic unit chief, to simply aaron, was a near rare occurrence in the weighted atmosphere of cases, specifically while in the attendance of others. so when it did appear, a greater, more-than-usual surge of affection rippled through you.

but just as quickly as you noticed the lightness, it vanished. aaron's usual pensive expression returned, only his gaze pointed was at you this time, a silent push within it. you rolled your eyes in understanding and retook the bottle from him to take a sip yourself, holding back a smile.

aaron leaned back slightly in his chair, shoulders relaxing in satisfaction.

meanwhile across from you, dave was watching the whole exchange, a rather entertained expression on his face. "how romantic." he mouthed silently - when you noticed his stare.

all in fun, your eyes narrowed at him, before they flicked to his water bottle. with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, you crossed your arms and held your gaze, practically daring him, 'okay, your turn.'

dave's tongue clicked in disapproval, solely for his flair for the dramatics, and began cranking open his water. and spencer being as observant as he was, noticed too and urgently grabbed his water, knowing you would be grounding onto him next. he tucked it under his arm, planning to drink once he concluded circling locations on the map exhibited on the board in front of him.

and for those who currently weren't at the precinct - derek, emily, jj, and even penelope all the way back home - you seized your phone, firing off a quick text in your shared group chat: hydrate reminder!

aaron peeked at his phone as his text tone went off, lips tugging into a barely-there, adoring smile as he read the message. his hand found your thigh underneath the table, giving it a doting squeeze.

Nothing just Reid being comfortable enough to sleep next to his boss because that’s his father right there, that man is his safehaven

BTS DRABBLE-One-Shot

Request: Poly!BTS Mafia AU

Tags: BTS, Bangtan, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boyscouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Request, my asks, my requests, BTS fluff, Poly!BTS, Mafia AU, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Kim seokjin, min yoongi, jung hoseok, kim namjoon, park jimin, kim taehyung, jeon jungkook

Genre: Fluff

Title: Improbable, Not Impossible

The mafia is a dangerous place. 

And this party, thrown by just the man you’re hoping to see, is a close second. 

You lift your glass of rose to your lips, and careful not to smear your deliberately applied lipstick, you take a sip, discerning eyes scanning the sea of sharply dressed men and their overly primped wives. 

It’s no secret that getting a meeting with the boss is a hard trick to pull. 

But that’s exactly what you’re here to do tonight. 

It’s all a matter of getting close to the boss’s inner circle, and you have never found that particularly hard to do. 

A smirk creases your lips, hidden behind the dewy glass of your wine flute. 

“You know,” A man slides into the seat at the bar next to you, and motions for the bartender to pour him a glass. “You really shouldn’t bring weapons to these sort of things, sweetheart.” 

Keep reading

Reblog if you think a woman can be complete without children

Y’ALL HAVE TIME TO REBLOG THIS. IT TAKES LESS THAN FIVE SECONDS.

Complaint - BTS Drabble (CEO OT7)

Did I just spend 4 hours writing this CEO au Drabble when I should be sleeping? Yes I did. Let me know what you think, my sleep has suffered for this x

Next

You looked at your seven bosses, sprawled like sin on their office chairs, with a little bit of defiance and anger, and a little bit of worry. Namjoon crossed his arms expectedly, waiting for you to speak, raising his brow when you don’t. You couldn’t keep his gaze and looked around the office of the young CEOs, avoiding the eyes burning into your skin. Focusing on the dark grey walls, you almost couldn’t hear Yoongi’s scoff, they let such little light into this room, thick curtains almost always covered the few windows there, and it didn’t help settle your nerves.

When it became evident you were going to hold your tongue, the leader of the group decided he would talk instead.

“We’ve received a complaint about our favourite employee,” he starts, waiting for a reaction. It was your turn to scoff and cross your arms defiantly, it wasn’t your fault, but you didn’t want to explain that, so you sat and acted like a brat as an act of defence against them. As much as it warmed your cheeks to hear the word favourite, you feared you would cause him to continue with disappointment, your heart sank with dread, you were a known teachers pet your whole life, if your bosses were angry with you, you might actually cry.

“You were caught fighting with another employee,” Jin continues, and you meekly look up at him, starting to feel uncomfortable in your own skin. He gives you a very small smile, eyes soft but firm in their interrogation. “Now we’ve heard Suran’s version of events...”

You scoff even louder, rolling your eyes, which makes Jin raise his eyebrow in shock at your attitude.

“... but we want to hear yours,” Hobi finishes, frowning at your behaviour.

You look away from the middle of their entourage to the left hand side where Taehyung sat at the end, chin in his hand, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, dark eyes assessing you with almost a bored expression on his face. Your heart rate increased and you clutched your arms with your nails tighter as if that would save you. Tae always managed to get a reaction out of you, maybe best not to look at him. But looking at Yoongi next to him was no better, as evident from the smirk on his face, they both could read you like a book written in their own language.

You turn your head to the other end of the panel, where Jungkook and Jimin sat, their normally smiling faces looked at you with disappointment and you bowed your head in shame at once. It was their fault really, but you didn’t want to say. It was no secret in the office that the seven CEOs had a soft spot for you, the maknaes made that abundantly clear in all the time you’ve worked for them. Always stealing you away, coming into the lunchroom to sit with you, always joking and laughing with you while blantently ignoring the other employees. You never thought much of it, but that bitch certainly had something to say about it.

Even the older members of the group made it clear who their favourite employee was, even though they were a lot more subtle, finding the time to walk past your desk and ask about your day, call you into their office to make sure you were okay when they thought you were stressed. It was the little quiet things with them, a complete opposite to the maknaes loud and cheerful declaration, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit how it melted your heart and yes, fine, you developed a major crush on the seven guys who treated you better than they did everyone else.

You didn’t try to make something more of it, genuinely you worked hard, harder than most people in the building, that was why you thought they appreciated you a little more, nothing else, so why did Suran have to go run her mouth and taint it all for you.

You heard a deep sigh from Tae, but refused to look at him. You heard his chair slide back with ease as he stood to come towards you, kneeling down in front of your chair and taking your chin into his soft grasp. When you looked at him you wanted to cry.

Taehyung always gave you whiplash, one second he was laughing and acting like a child and the next he could become somber and strict, you never knew which Tae to expect, and honestly you thought he did it on purpose to keep you on your toes. There were days where you brought him his files and he’d smile like you just saved the world gushing you with praises, and the next time he’d look at you with dark eyes with the words “good girl” coming out in his deep timbre that made your whole body shiver.

His eyes now were commanding and dark, you took his wrist into your hand and tried to push him away but he held on a little tighter, a light sound of disapproval leaving him.

“Tsk, what happened to my good girl?” He said, voice deep. “Why would our sweet Y/n get into a fight?”

You could feel a lump in your throat, the real reason you really didn’t want to speak was because you know you’d start wailing like an idiot in front of the men that you started to love, and while you thought they may not reciprocate those feelings, you didn’t want to lose their respect. Stupid Suran had to ruin everything.

“Did you get hurt, angel?” Jimin says softly. Tears definitely start to well up in your eyes as you look towards him. Taehyung let’s go of your chin to caress your cheek as a tear drops and he wipes it away.

Namjoon’s eyes darken, they know for absolute fact you could do no wrong but unless they wanted HR to come visit they needed to resolve this in house. He knew that bitch was lying through her teeth about their favourite girl, but they needed you to tell them what actually happened so they could get rid of her without any mess.

“We can’t help you baby girl if you don’t tell us,” he says, hoping it would elicit something out of you.

“You guys are the problem,” you say through a sob, and your arms come to cover your face as more tears shed down your face. Their hearts sink at your words, Taehyung frowns at you, his dark eyes disappearing to look at you with sadness.

“What did we do, sunshine?” Hobi asks, tensing his shoulders. The group collectively hold their breath waiting for you to answer, bracing themselves for the onslaught of whatever they’ve done wrong.

“That!” You look at him accusingly, “stop doing that!”

They all turn to look at each other in confusion as you continue to cry.

“Beautiful girl..” Jin starts but you interrupt him.

“Jin stop please,” you beg, which does nothing to quell their confusion. You try to stop crying but end up causing yourself to hiccup and breathe shakily. Taehyung tries to hush you softly while still caressing your face, now with both hands.

It hurts them to see you like this, you were never a mere employee to them, and they made sure to show it, you might’ve missed the memo but none of the other employees did. The warning glares when a male colleague tried to talk to you, the way they tried to make sure at least one of them was with you at all times, the special projects they gave you to keep you near them. It was all done to keep you close, to get something to blossom from you so you could be theirs. They were being as patient as they could be, so what went wrong? Did you not want them like they wanted you?

“We don’t understand, Kitten, you have to explain it to us,” Yoongi growled getting impatient with you, he always covered his vulnerability with an air of annoyance and cold gazes, the rest of the boys saw through it, they couldn’t stand the idea of being the cause of your pain.

“The pet names, they need to stop,” you say firmly through your tears, painting your own glare onto your face, hoping it would give you the strength to get though this.

If the boys were hurt before, they definitely felt the cut this rejection caused, Yoongi flinched at your gaze. You never had a problem with this before.

They all called you a different name, something that resonated with their own selves. Yoongi called you kitten because of the rise he would get out of you when he teased you, you were smaller than him and he found your tenacity very cute so he picked on you jokingly to get a reaction, the phrase “Kitten’s got her claws out,” was a regular occurrence in your working life and while you always rolled your eyes at him you secretly loved it. You always joked that Yoongi reminded you of a cat, so it only made sense to him you were his Kitten, he always saw the smile you tried to hide when he called you that so why was it a problem now?

“Angel,” Jimin wanted to calm you down but it seemed to have other effects, your tears started again as you closed your eyes in defeat, you couldn’t be angry with them to make yourself look stronger. The sobs that left you made them wince, Taehyung takes you into his arms onto the floor, setting you on your knees, but against his wishes it makes you cry harder.

Jungkook nibbles on his lips, what made you cry like this? Surely not them, not their love for you. Anxiety started creeping inside him and he looked to their leader to try and make sense of the situation. You weren’t meant to cry, they didn’t anticipate that, they thought this would be simple, you’d say what the surely bitch had done and they would fire her, why had it turned to you crying inconsolably?

Namjoon had his eyes trained on you throughout your outburst, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why you suddenly had a problem with their affection.

“What did she say to you, Y/n?” His voice was stern and left no room for evasion.

“She said,” you sobbed into Tae’s blazer, clutching onto him as he stroked your back and cradled your head against him. You drew a shaky breath trying to get your words out, but you were awful at speaking when you cried. Taehyung put his cheek on the top of head to comfort you, as you tried to find your breath and your words.

“Come on, beautiful girl what did she say?” Jin pushed softly. While it warmed your heart to feel their care, it also broke it to know they’d never be yours the way you wanted them to be, that their care was only platonic and if they found out how you felt maybe they’d never look at you the same. So you didn’t want it, any of it, maybe it was easier to live without them then let them know how much you craved to be theirs, if only you knew they wanted you too.

“Sunshine, you need to tell us,” you can hear the sadness in Hoseok’s voice and it hurts you.

“Sh-she called m-me a whore,” you force out of yourself, spluttering in your tears. “She said I must b-be a - a wh-whore if you...” your whine break their hearts a little more, Jungkook and Jimin unable to stand how broken you sound join Taehyung in holding you, stroking your arms, your back, whatever they could to comfort you a little at least. The four CEO’s remain frozen in their chairs as their blood boils.

“If we what Kitten?” Yoongi asks through gritted teeth, fist clenching in anger.

You shake your head and whine against the maknaes, you don’t want to do this, you don’t want to say it, but you’ve started now and you need to finish. You gulp in a breath of air before you continue, trying to keep the emotion out of your voice.

“Why would you show me any kindness if I weren’t selling myself to you,” your nails dig into Taehyung suit and you try to ground yourself and keep the sobs at bay. “Why would all seven CEOs treat me any differently if they weren’t all using me for my body, why would they look at me when there were countless other women prettier and sexier than me.”

By the end of your explanation you were crying loudly again, but you could see the shock on their faces. Jimin and Jungkook exchanged a look of contempt, when they were done consoling you they had a bitch to deal with.

“I tried to explain to her that it wasn’t like that, but she wasn’t having it, I tried to walk away but she screamed at me and said “how does this whore think she’s better than me” and then she threw the first punch,” you tried wiping away your own tears and hurt, feeling so pathetic in front of them. “I swear I didn’t start it, I didn’t even fight back I just tried to keep her off of me.” You looked at Namjoon pleadingly hoping he’d believe you.

“I understand if you want me to leave,” you said your worst fear out loud only to be met with noises of disapproval.

“Why would we want you to leave, Bunny?”Jungkook took your face into his hands, and looked at you with his doe eyes hoping you’d see the sincerity he held for you. You always thought it were ironic the names the men gave you, it was like a reflection of themselves, you always thought Jungkook reminded you of a rabbit so when he first called you bunny you laughed out loud and asked him why he called you that. You remember his playful smile as he shrugged his shoulders and said “you jump on the spot when you’re excited,” giggling at you before whispering “like a bunny,” as if it were a secret. Jungkook was remembering it all as well, remembering how you grinned for him when he said that, comparing it to how broken you looked when he said it now.

“You don’t want rumours like this around you,” you explain, “you guys have worked so hard for something like me to taint the respect you’ve built.”

Yoongi scoffs again and looks at you as if you just uttered the most idiotic words known to man.

“We don’t care about that, we care about you silly Kitten.”

Yoongi hated how fragile you looked, you always held yourself strongly, the fact that this nonsense got to you frustrated him, who the hell did Suran think she was making his kitten feel so small.

“I can’t work here anymore Yoongi,” you said softly, the reason why you were so apprehensive to talk this over now becoming apparent, you knew how it would end. The panic that filled Yoongi made him clutch his chair, his breathing becoming harder at the thought that you would willingly leave them. He turned to their leader and saw a similar panic, losing you was never an option.

“Flower,” Tae said to get your attention, he had two names for you. When he was being soft it was flower, when he was in boss mode it was always good girl, and both always made your heart flutter, even now. He shook his head without another word, he didn’t need to say anything you could tell he was saying no to you leaving.

Jungkook wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing his face into your neck, holding you as close as he could.

“Please don’t leave us,” he whispers against you. He could feel dread weighing him down, but he would take you down with him and never let you out of his hold.

“I can’t stay,” you whisper back to Kookie, pressing your cheek to him before making eye contact with Namjoon, “I’ll hand in my resignation letter tomorrow.”

“We’ll reject it,” he replies quick as a flash, jaw clenching stubbornly.

“Joonie, you can’t reject it,” you say back equally as stubborn.

He finally rises from his chair to stand tall in front of you, his fingers go to your hair, stroking the strand back and forcing you to look up at him.

“Give me one good reason why I can’t.”

“I want to leave,” you lie, and Jimin whimpers beside you taking your hand into his, looking at your fingers as if it would stop his world crumbling around him. Jungkook holds you tighter, if he had to stay like this for eternity to stop you he would.

“You’re lying,” Taehyung says seeing through you like he always could, but even he felt a little insecure at your words, you were slipping away from them and he needed to bring you back. “Good girls don’t lie.”

Namjoon let’s go of your hair and walks exasperated around the room with his hands on his hips, he wanted to break something, he always felt in control but this whole situation was taking that away from him and it left him out of his comfort zone.

Hobi knew the lead CEO needed a breather, the room could feel his frustration, even you cowered in it.

“Sunshine,” he called to you, trying his hardest to smile, hoping it’d be enough to convince you to drop the subject of leaving. “What would we do without our sunshine?” He tried to be lighthearted, to air the room from suffocating them. “Why would our sunshine want to leave us over something as silly as this?”

“You’re not leaving beautiful,” Jin chimed in, “Suran is.”

You look to the ground and your resolve to keep your secret to yourself breaks, you take a deep breath in and brace yourself for their rejection.

“While she was trying to get at me on the floor, she said she could see right through me,” your voice started off strong but grew smaller as you carried on. “She screamed it at me actually, for everyone to hear, how she knew I was in love with all seven of you, and how I was deluded to think that you’d ever love me back, and that’s why I didn’t fight back,” you could feel the tears leave you again but you didn’t sob, a numbness started spreading across your chest like an acceptance of the end, you already missed them, and it weighed so much you uttered your last words with a whisper, “because she was right.”

There, you said it, and you didn’t want to see the consequences so you closed your eyes. You could hear the sharp intake of breath, Jungkook lifted his head from your shoulder to look at you in shock, but you refused to see any of it, waiting for the words you know would come. Instead you felt soft lips place themselves on yours, large hand pressing the back of your head closer to the warmth in front of you, you open your eyes in shock as Tae breaks away from you slowly, smiling as soft as the kiss. You hear a chuckle behind you, chest rumbling against your back where Jungkook still held you.

As you glance at their faces, you feel confused, they’re all smiling, grinning shyly. Namjoon has to bite his lips to stop himself from grinning like an idiot, Yoongi already giving in to this new feeling, gummy smile on show. The atmosphere in the room changes, and it causes your heart skip a beat in hope.

“Baby baby girl,” Namjoon joins the youngest CEOs on the floor with you, crouching down to tuck a stand of hair behind your ear. “Did you even stop to think maybe we were in love with you too?”

You’re gaping like a fish, you know you are, but you can’t stop.

“Cat got your tongue?” Yoongi chuckles. “Where were your claws kitten, you should’ve scratched Suran’s face.”

“I don- I don’t understand,” you stutter.

Jimin turns your face towards him before pressing his lips against yours, you could feel him smiling before he pulled away. “Does that help explain things angel?”

You cheeks are bright red, and you can hear the boys coo away at you. Your whole world feels like it’s shifted, and the dark office suddenly seems a lot brighter.

“We love you too,” the youngest whispers, pressing a kiss to the space behind your ears. “We love you too.”

Saw this on FB and it’s giving Miles G

Instant Attraction - Tommy Miller x reader

Summary: Upon meeting Tommy with Joel and Ellie you find the pair of you have immediate attraction for each other

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: none 

Notes: Part one of the Instant Attraction series

Keep reading

Miles-42/Prowler Miles x GN!Reader

based off this post

@tainted-liquor hopefully this is okay 🥺

TW: Fluff, Kind of Short, No Plot, Mention of Ganke

____________________________________________________________

"You're so frustrating"

You looked up to see your boyfriend, Miles G. Morales, looking down at you with his hands on his hips. He was scowling, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Whats your problem?" You huffed, giving him an annoyed look before waving him off and looking back down at the book you were reading.

He leaned down and tilted your chin up to force you to look at him, cupping your face in between his hands in the process. He squinted slightly as he looked directly into your eyes, eyebrows still furrowed. "Why the hell do you have to be so cute?"

You blinked out of confusion. His eyes were darting in between yours as he stared, deep in thought. "You good?" you asked, lip twitching as you tried not to laugh at how he was acting. What a dork.

"I'll be good once you answer my question."

He was dead serious. You snorted at this and pushed his hands off your face. "Stop playing"

"I'm not messing around!" he said, expression softening slightly. He sat down next to you, pulling you toward him as he pressed his face into your neck, effectively pushing your book out of your hands. "Hey-" you started to protest, but were interrupted by his voice.

"Stop tryna play hard to get" his voice was muffled as he spoke into your skin, arms wrapping around your waist. "its pissing me off"

You chuckled softly at this, resting your head against his, a slight smile spreading across your face. "I was reading that, dork"

"Read later. I'm here right now"

"You're always here"

"So?"

You rolled your eyes. Clingy ass mf-

He looked at you, tilting your chin up so he could look you in the eyes again. You raised an eyebrow at him, biting back a laugh at his expression. He still looked mad.

"Who gave you the right?"

"What right?"

"The right to look so damn pretty all the time?"

"Has Ganke been reading you pick-up lines or something?" You asked with a snort, pressing your forehead against his.

He shrugged, closing his eyes at your movement, keeping his arms wrapped around you. "Where's this even coming from?" you whispered.

"Ion know. You just do stuff to me I guess."

____________________________________________________________

A/N: This was pretty short but the prompt was also pretty short, so I think I did okay!! If there's anything that stands out to you or anything you think I should change, pls let me know!! <3

I genuinely have no idea how to write this guy 😭

He seems so average I'm sorry, like he'd act like most guys there's nothing defining about him that we know about because he had like 5 or 6 lines in the movie so I don't know how to write him in a way thats still accurate to his character and I don't wanna headcanon with some random personality cuz it would feel off to me yk.

𓇼𓈒ㅤׂHow Curious... 𓆉 [4.11.23] - ft. Miles G. Morales 𓆡 genre: fluff, part 2 of Sea Grillz!

What a liar.

Two years ago, you met a human. A beautiful, beautiful human who promised that he would come back and visit you. You waited around the coral for months, breaching the surface of the freshwater haven every now and again to see if the familiar red metal cargo ship ever showed up again. You kept that piece of soft cotton fabric wrapped tightly around your gills in hopes that one day the boy would remember you and come back. What was his name again? Prowler?

You zoomed through the warm currents of the 'Big Lagoon', otherwise known as the Caribbean Sea by the surface dwellers in search of some new findings at the bottom of the ocean. Your tail eagerly jerked through the waves, propelling you forward with the force of a bullet train as you scanned the ocean floor for any new finds. You had somewhat of a collection; a brass hand mirror, several giant beady 'pearls' of some sort, silky gloves, and a plethora of coins from all ages and times. It was dark, barely visible as your eyes struggled to pick out every minor detail due to the lack of sunlight. But truth be told, you only had one thing in mind as you glided through the pure water.

You breached the surface, hair falling along your shoulders as your beautiful coral and shell necklace rested against your collarbone. You looked up at the warm skyline, losing yourself in the vibrant shades of orange, pink, and yellow that decorated the world and illuminated your skin. You raised a hand out of the warmth of the ocean, watching as your skin morphed from a pale blue to your natural melanated tone. Your jewelry consisted of pearls, small shells, your swamp blue scales that you lost along the way, and solid diamonds that shimmered on the horizon. It was perfect; no humans to disturb the mesmerizing crash of the waves or the blue tint of the water.

You felt for your cold neck, grazing your soft fingertips over the ripped piece of cotton wrapped around your neck. A sense of melancholy suddenly filled your mind, missing the man that appeared before you and swept you off your fins. You looked around the bare ocean, whispering a silent prayer to whatever may be listening. Oshun? Ikatere? Whoever ears it fell upon, you'd hope they'd hear you.

"Please come back tomorrow..."

You bowed your head before darting back under the deep blue, blazing through the current with no other goal than to get home safely. It was hard to describe this feeling of grief. Maybe it was the promise he muttered that remained broken, or maybe it was his sense of style with those iron-clad claws and shiny teeth. He hadn't left your mind since he sailed away, but you sure left his. You cozied up next to the soft pink anemone, allowing its tentacles to flick and wave at your nose.

The ocean surface went from gentle pinks obscured by ripples of water to pitch black. The inky sky glowed with speckles of stars as you laid back on your lively 'pillow', gently running your fingers through the rough nylon of the rope attached to your waist. You thought to yourself for a moment, dancing over the buttery kapa fabric that covered your chest. It was just like every other night, staring at the water's edge while you attempted to lull yourself to sleep. But there was a sudden urge for you to get up and swim out far east.

You gasped, hopping up at the speed of light, tail twitching with an unfamiliar sensation. Your iridescent scales glimmered under the moon...something was nagging you to swim east. So what did you do? Swam as far right as you could.

"Tú en mi cama..." Miles muttered, deep purple Prowler mask glimmering in the moonlight as music flooded his brain. He knew he was stupid for sailing out in the middle of the sea for no reason, but he had to see that pretty little mermaid again. The one with the big beady eyes and the baby-soft skin, yeah. That one. It had been two years since he last saw that face, and you've been burned into his brain ever since. So now here he was, out in the middle of the sea as his new watch spewed out coordinates for him to follow.

Still in that same red cargo ship he stole two years prior, he sped out into the uncharted waters in pursuit of the woman with the blue skin. and the perfect scales. It was a dark and eery atmosphere as he voyaged forward. The ghostly hue of the moonlight led him forward, serving as his candle in the abyss. The ocean shimmered, each wave highlighted by the fluorescent white as Miles put the engine in reverse and allowed the boat to bob above the water.

He stepped away from the helm of the ship, his heavy-duty boots making a loud thudding sound against the deck as he swung both legs against the railing. He hummed along to the reggaeton music that was blasting through his headphones and took another glance over the sea line. His twin braids swayed gently with the low whistling of the wind, as the cold air kissed every inch of Miles' exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Everything seemed to follow a pattern; the waves would flow and crash against the ship, and the wind would puppeteer his braids. Until there was a familiar deviation in the water.

You darted forward, ducking and weaving between corral, debris, and anything that stood in your way as judgment guided you forward. You passed by the little crabs and gave a couple pats to some adorable Mahi-Mahi before you saw it; the strange shadow you were met with long ago. Your eyes widened with hope and adoration, making no effort to conceal your presence as you breached the surface. "Hey!" You shouted upon seeing the familiar purple glow from some sort of mask. The small white eyes widened, glitching from their regular slits to tiny hearts as you swam closer towards the ship.

"Oh, shit-...Chiquita! ¿Cómo has estado? I missed you!" He shouted, lowering down some sort of boat attached to some ropes that he gestured for you to climb into. You held on to the edge of the smaller wooden boat, lifting yourself up with all your strength as you plopped down onto the rickety oak. He hoisted you up, using all his strength to pull you up on the deck with him. The floor of the ship was freezing cold, floorboards creaking under the added body weight as you flopped on the ground. You lifted yourself up on the palms of your hands, coming face-to-face with the strange 'prowler' once again.

"Where have you been! I've been waiting for you for...for...forever! You said you'd be back!" You shouted, wasting no time as your sopping hands grazed over his exposed arms. His skin was cold to the touch and littered with goosebumps as you attempted to take off his mask, earning a low chuckle from the boy in front of you. He grabbed your wrist, gently moving your hands away from his face as he went to speak. "How often do you think I can boat out to the middle of the ocean? Hmm?" He asked, his tone laced with gentle sarcasm and slight heartbreak. He really did want to come back sooner, but time has never been a friend of Miles.

"I see you found more jewelry," he commented, gently taking your glimmering hand in his as he examined the diamonds, aquamarine, gold, and blue calcite that decorated your knuckles. You were worth millions...fins or no fins, you had a killer jewel collection that could fund an entire generation's college ride. Miles sat on the floor so he could be at eye level with you, pulling you in his lap as he collapsed his retractable mask. "I got jewels too," he mumbled, before opening his mouth just enough for you to see the shimmery glint of...teeth jewelery?

Your eyes widened, pupils dilating as you leaned forward to get a good look at his mouth. His sharp canines were covered by a silver outline, while his bottom teeth were lined with what looked like pure diamonds as you ran your fingertips against the smooth metal. "This is...wow," you sighed, admiring the sparkling gems as Miles smirked at your reaction. "This is called a grill," He muttered, closing his jaws before you made an attempt to put your head in his mouth. You nodded, still processing his flashy sense of style as he scanned over your ethereal garments and figure.

"So what y'all be doin' down there? What's it like on the ocean floor?" Miles asked, gently kissing the thenar of your palm as your hand came to caress his face. You thought for a minute, letting the cold wind blow against your frostbit skin. "It's dark...I mean, I have angler fish! But other than the dark, it's very cozy," You shrugged, hands dancing across his black cotton turtle neck. "It's got a lot of cool things, and a lot of coins. Definitely a lot of coins..." You chuckled, feeling the soaked fabric trickle water down the nape of your neck.

"Damn...New York is never dark," Miles laughed. His laugh was cold and hollow, but oddly comforting as he fixed your makeshift 'waist beads' made out of a piece of rope. He took your face in his cold, and rough hands as he admired your perfection. He'd never seen such a pretty girl in his life, and she was miles away out at sea. Your button nose perfectly complimented your full, two-toned lips. Whoever invented that fuckass 'Phi' system was wrong, YOU were the most beautiful girl in the world; with your glimmering scales, flashy gems, and gorgeous eyes.

He wanted to take you back with him and keep you all to himself, so the greed of the world could never reach out and take from you like they took from him. But deep down he knew there wasn't a place for you in his world. He placed a cold, comforting kiss on your collarbone as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "C'mon, tell me about what you did while I was gone," Miles chuckled, hoisting you up as he waltzed toward the helm of the ship. He wanted his conscience to narrate his thoughts in your voice, that thick islander accent and velvety tone talking to him about his own moves.

You talked his ear off for hours, sitting pretty on his lap while he learned all about Aycayia culture, what you eat in a day, and how prevalent 'rare' gems are in the deep blue sea. He didn't care that he was soaked from head to toe, or that he was losing feeling in his legs the longer you stayed on his lap. He just wanted to hold you for a little bit longer as you mindlessly fiddled with his silver chain. His hands gently caressed your hair before reaching into his back pocket to pull out a small pinkish purple metal 'watch'. "I gotta go, I'm so sorry..." he muttered, attaching it to your wrist as the futuristic bracelet emitted a soft glow.

Your head cocked to the side, trying to make sense of the strange device. "This will show me your coordinates. Don't lose it. I'm gonna bring you with me one day, I promise," He mumbled, holding you as close as possible. The wind sang a song of melancholy, the ocean coming to a still as you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. You wanted him to stay, to tell you more stories of his life as 'The Prowler'. You hated the idea of not seeing him for another two years, tears pricking at your waterline as you smushed your cheek against his.

"I really...really love you. Please don't take too long...?" You whispered, the top half of your body hanging off the rim of the ship.

"...I love you too."

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x  @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc @al3xwqz @l0starl

Baby Girl | The Lost Boys x Reader HCs

Plot:  ya call the boys baby girl. just to see what happens. [The Lost Boys x GN!Reader]

Word count:  1420 (nice)

Warnings:  implied horniness???? it's not that bad, it's just paul being a dingus

A/N: again, holy fuck i can't believe i wrote this. even more holy fuck, somehow, this isn't the stupidest thing i've ever written, and the most holy fuck, i think i might do one of these for every fandom i write for. wish me fuckin luck babes.

Marko

Marko finds it hilarious 

You saunter up to him on the boardwalk

Full of confidence and mischief 

You throw an arm around his shoulders 

Lean your weight on him

And you say

“Ok, where are we going, baby girl?”

Yeah, you don’t end up going anywhere, because he starts wheezing 

He just wasn’t expecting it, it caught him off guard

And then you have to stand there for five minutes while he laughs so hard he fails at standing

Boy is on his KNEES losing it at “baby girl”

And you’re just standing over him for a few minutes, ginning like a madman until you kneel down next to him

And holding back your own laughter

You say

“What’s wrong, baby girl?”

And he just falls over

And at that point you also fall over 

And both of you are just cackling at this dumb shit

It’s attracting attention, but neither of you care

Eventually the rest of the boys come back to find you and marko just

On the ground

Dying

And david straight up turns around and walks the other way

It’s great, it’s fantastic

You and marko call each other “baby girl” for at least a week

And you both die laughing every single time

Everyone else hates you but it’s so fucking worth it

Paul

He also finds it hilarious, but like

Slightly to the left

The two of you are also on the boardwalk 

Vibing

Waiting for everyone else to show up

And you’re sitting on one of the rails while he stands like, kind of in front of you?

And he gets distracted by something

As he does with startling frequency 

And you watch him for a few minutes

Admiring him

But eventually, you get bored with that, so you kinda 

Kick him

A little bit

Not hard 

It’s not enough to hurt him

(if you can even do that)

But it’s enough to get his attention 

He looks at you

And his eyes get really big and sad, like he’s silently asking, “Why did you kick me?”

Or alternatively, “YOU KICK PAUL?  YOU KICK HIS BODY LIKE THE FOOTBALL?  JAIL FOR Y/N, JAIL FOR ONE THOUSAND YEARS”

Either way, you power through it

And you go

“Whatcha lookin at, baby girl?”

And this boy just

Lights Up

The sad puppy eyes are Dropped 

And They Are Replaced With The Horny Eyes.

He just

Leans into you

As he looks at you, scanning you up and down

His gaze is piercing and uhhh

It looks like he wants to Eat You.

And goes

“baby girl, huh?”

And you’re like

“Yeah, baby girl.  And you didn’t answer my question.”

Which like

You say it

And you are Aware that you are Playing With Fire

But fuck, the fire is fun to play with

And you won’t complain about getting burned 

So

When he takes another step towards you and like

Smacks a hand down on your leg

You just lean in further and go

“Are you gonna answer me, baby girl?”

Yeah, you get bit

On the neck

You fucked around and found out

You leaned in too far and you got bit

These boys, i swear, they’re animals 

Just fuckin biting

It’s a gentle bite tho

Soft

Teasing 

And when he pulls back he goes

“Doesn’t matter, baby.  All I can see now is you.”

And it’s so fuckin cute that you almost fall off the rail you’re sitting on

Anyway, yeah, you and paul also call each other “baby girl” for a week, but the context is Different 

Dwayne

Dwayne has a relatively simple reaction

The two of you are vibin in the cave

It’s dark outside 

So everyone else is out

And the two of you are alone

And he’s minding his own business

Lounging around a bit 

Reading a book 

And you

You are Bored

And you’re in the mood to cause problems on purpose, so

You slide in

Lean over him

And you watch him for a second

Tilting your head every now and then like a confused puppy

He ignores you

And after a few minutes of standing there, a plot comes to your wicked little mind

You lean in even closer

And you go

“Hey baby girl, whatcha reading?”

And he just

Looks at you 

For a second

Maybe he blinks once or twice

And you don’t budge, you’re just sitting there grinning at him

In silence

And then suddenly 

In the blink of an eye

He pulls you down onto him and into his arms

You quickly find yourself resting on top of him 

Using his chest as a pillow 

And this man

Does Not Wear A Shirt

So that’s fun for you

Anyway, he takes the book and just

Holds it above the two of you 

So that you can both read it

And he says

“Look for yourself, baby girl”

Which if you ask me, is the fuckin Height Of Romance, but you didn’t ask me, and that’s okay

Anyway, yeah, it’s cute

Fuckin

Adorable shit

David

Anyway, time for david

David is

Confused

By his baby girlification 

Like

He’s not mad, he doesn’t expect it

(Kinda like marko, but he doesn't laugh, he just sorta sits there)

It takes him a second to process, because the second the word “baby girl” leaves your mouth and floats his way, he blue screens

Like

David.exe is not working

The first time you do it, you’re in the cave with everyone else

And he’s sitting in his wheelchair, staring off into the distance like the brooding vampire man that he is

And you lean over him and go

“Whatcha thinkin about, baby girl?”

And he just goes

“What?”

And like

I don’t think you can actually say that he says what

It’s more like he breathes it out while his eyebrows furrow together and he shoots you the most confused look you have ever seen on his face

In part, he’s unsure that you’re talking to him

And in another part, you usually use more

Idk

Standard?  Pet Names? 

Darling, maybe sweetheart 

And he wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to weird pet names, it’s just that one time on the boardwalk you heard him call a potential meal “kitten” and you didn’t stop meowing at him for three months

So yeah, he didn’t see that one coming

It doesn’t help that the rest of the boys are there at the time, and you, marko, and paul just start chanting the word “baby girl” over and over again

Side note, i think the boys may have a thing for chants

Anyway

The next time you call him baby girl, he you catch him off guard with your sheer boldness 

It’s not the “baby girl” itself, it’s the words that accompany it

See, he’s drinking something 

Water, blood, whatever

He’s drinking it

And you look over at him and you just go

“Damn, you’re pretty thirsty tonight, huh baby girl?  We’ll just have to do something about that.”

And your tone is like, half joking, but that doesn’t matter, he still chokes on his drink

He coughs for like

A Good Few Minutes

And in those minutes you go from laughing at him, to panicking and patting him on the back

Congrats to you btw, you almost killed known horror icon david lost boys

Good for you

Anyway, he survives, which is good

Bc idk how forgiving the other boys would be of you committing manslaughter (vampire slaughter?) against david

(tbh, they’d probably be pretty forgiving given the sheer hilarity of the situation)

BUT HE LIVES, AND I DIGRESS 

The next time you call him baby girl is in front of max

And like

This is peak 0 brain cell behaviour for you, because you straight up aren’t even thinking about it

You see david in the video store

You walk into the video store

You don’t realize he is in the Middle Of Talking To His Dad

“Dad”

And you go

“Hey baby girl”

And then you wander off to the horror section 

Just

No thots given 

You don’t even notice david and max staring after you

You’re too busy looking at a copy of texas chainsaw massacre 2

And when they turn back to face each other it is literally that one meme

“David, why does (Y/N) call you baby girl?”

“Maybe we should stop talking for a while”

Overall 

David doesn’t mind it, it just fucking surprises him every gd time

You’d think he’d get used to it but nope

It always gets him

The Lost Boys w/ a s/o that has regenerative powers

Keep reading

How would The Lost Boys react to a S/O that could use mind control

Paul and Marko want you to start mind controlling people all the time now. They’re overjoyed. They basically think that they’ll never have to pay for or steal anything ever again because their s/o can scramble people’s brains. Sure, David can do it, but he’ll never use it for fun purposes. What are you gonna do say no to getting them some food for free? (And all the patches that they can grab)

Dwayne is happy because you aren’t as vulnerable as he thought before and now he doesn’t have to worry as much because, if someone messes with you when you’re not around them, then you can just make them run into a wall or some shit.

David’s a tricky one. At first, I think he would be pissy because he’s the one that’s the best at mind games, what the fuck, you’re throwing off the balance. But then, when he’s a minute away from declaring mental war on you, he realizes that now you can trick humans into coming to the cave for them when they don’t feel like going out and finding someone and following them and all that. 

Slightly Stabbed | The Lost Boys x Reader

Plot:  you get a little bit stabbed.  oopsie? [The Lost Boys x GN!Reader]

Word count:  3807

Warnings: first aid, stab wounds, blood, the reader has some issues but it’s ok

A/N: this is literally a fanfic in headcanon form, holy fuck.  tumblr almost couldn’t handle this thicc thing

Sooooooo, here’s the thing about dating a group of vampires

They uh

They can smell blood

AND I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING, BUT WE AREN’T GOING THERE

At least not today

No, today we’re discussing the fun challenge that is Hiding Your Stab Wound From Your Four Boyfriends

Keep reading

Can I please request a situation where the reader is ultra motherly towards Laddienand even let's him call her mum. Sincerely someone who is obsessed with Dwayne and your writing

Thank you so much!! Also, I love Laddie? He is like so freaking cute?? So this request was definitely something I was excited to do.

Dwayne x Fem!S/O That’s Very Mothering Towards Laddie

You met Dwayne by meeting Laddie. You were wandering the boardwalk when you saw the little ten year old all by himself. He was standing in the middle of the crowd all by himself, looking around for what you assumed were his parents. It made you unbelievably upset that no one was going to help him. You hated how the people of Santa Carla had just gotten used to all the runaways, and the first thing you wanted to do was buy that kid some food and help him find whoever he was looking for. Though, you knew the parents might not be too pleased with strangers giving their kid something to eat, so you’d settle for helping him instead.

You kneeled in front of him so you were closer to his height, even a little bit shorter. It would make you less intimidating and you asked him his name and if he was lost. He nodded, and wiped his eyes. “I’m Laddie. I can’t find Dwayne.” He said. He revealed that he had got thirsty while his brothers were going in and out of stores. He’d only wandered off for a minute, but he’d forgotten what store they were in. You introduced yourself, and promised that you’d help find them.

You said it would probably be best to wait for them to find him, as they could miss them if they wandered off any farther. You asked him what his brothers looked like and what they were wearing. He told you that three of them were blondes, while one of them was a brunette. He’d called one of his brothers hair “white” so you figured they’d be pretty easy to spot. Then they’d said they were all wearing black, except for his brother Marko. He’d described Markos jacket as cool with lots of colors. Dwayne’s jacket apparently had a jaguar on it. Okay, noted. You figured you were looking for a group of punks, which would explain why the kid was dressed in an old-timey coat over his rock t-shirt.

After a few moments, Laddie clung to you like glue. He’d wrapped his arms around your waist while you scoured the crowd for any of his brothers. You’d even taken the time to use some of the napkins you had in your purse to wipe his face clean of any dirt, and that’s when you heard someone call the young boys name

You looked up, and you saw a tall brunette jogging up to you. You had been in the middle of cleaning the boys face, and you stared at the man running straight up to you. You figured that this was Dwayne, especially when Laddie called his name. You watched as the young boy ran towards him, only to be immediately scooped up into his arms. Laddie had failed to mention that his brother was probably the most handsome person you’d ever see. His dark brown eyes that filled with a mixture of relief and concern, his leather jacket that didn’t do anything to hide his exposed chest, and the long tresses of hair that went past his shoulders and down his back. You’d almost completely zoned out until Laddie said, “The nice lady found me.” Dwayne had finally looked at you, and, after that, the rest was history

You took on a mothering role to the boy, and you’d quickly become an honorary ‘Lost Boy’. You often babysat the ten year old while his brothers went off and caused trouble at first, as it seemed they were happy to find someone to watch him. But, after awhile, the boys started to hang around you more and more. Especially Dwayne. He liked to watch how you babied the boy, and, when the boys teased Laddie when you would lick your thumb to wipe some dirt off his face, he’d smile when you threatened to do it to them too

You took Laddie on rides, bought him tons of food, and treated him like he was your little brother. It seemed Laddie saw you as more of a mother, and quickly started calling you ‘Mum’. The first time it’d happened, you’d been with the boys and you’d just handed him an ice-cream cone. He’d said a small, “Thanks, mum.” Like it was the most normal thing in the world. Your heart had practically melted, and you’d ruffled his hair before kissing the top of his head and responding with a, “You’re welcome.” Dwayne had stared at you a little harder that night after that, and you had tried not to let it make you too flustered

You ran your hair through Laddies hair with a sigh, murmuring something about giving him a haircut. He looked up at you and gone, “Nuh-uh! I wanna look like Dwayne!” And you couldn’t help your smile as you brushed his bangs from his face. You’d asked him wouldn’t he rather be able to see without having to constantly push his hair back, and he’d gone quiet with a contemplative look on his face. You tried to keep the smile off your face as you played with his hair, and finally he said a small, “Fine.” The next night was the first time the boys had ever gone back to your place. They quickly looked around your apartment and began touching all your things, and you took this as an opportunity to give the boy a bath. 

You’d put his clothes in the wash while you bathed him, and you’d used pretty much all of your special bubble bath soap. The boys had been attracted to the sound of giggles, and they all stood at the door as they watched you turn his hair into a spike. “Now, you’re a shark.” You’d told the boy, and the boy had never seen happier at the comparison. “Surf-nazis watch out!” He’d said, and you’d laughed at the choice of words. You’d looked at the boys and arched a brow at them, and they seemed a little sheepish that he’d caught on to their slang. Even after the other boys went back to exploring, Dwayne had stayed at the entrance of the door while you finished scrubbing him down until he was completely clean. Behind the ears and all. You’d even managed to convince him to brush his teeth, and you taught him how to floss. (You’d yelled at the boys later for that because flossing is important!)

Once his bath was done, you’d wrapped him in an old pair of your sweats and a clean t-shirt. You sat him in the kitchen and used a comb and scissors to trim his bangs, and you even managed to convince him to let you trim his split-ends. Once you were done, you cleaned up the mess, dried his hair, and then put him back into his now clean clothes. The boy looked absolutely brand-new, and he’d flashed you a bright, clean smile. 

The boys had called you a saint, and Dwayne had even pressed a kiss to your cheek afterwards. He said a simple, “Thank you.” And then the five of them left to go do whatever they did this late at night. You’d rubbed your cheek and thought about it for the rest of the night

A few days later, you, Dwayne, and Laddie had been walking up and down the boardwalk when Laddie asked, “Why don’t you two ever kiss?” And you’d nearly spit out your soda. You both looked completely puzzled from the randomness of the question, and he looked confused by your expressions. “Isn’t that what mommies and daddies do?” He asked, and you two had stared at him for a moment. You both realized in that moment that Laddie saw you both as his parental figures, and, more importantly, he thought you were a couple. 

You’d been too embarrassed to answer him, and Dwayne had fallen completely silent. You’d tried to explain that you and Dwayne weren’t together, but when you looked at him you’d completely faltered and lost your train of thought. Luckily, the boy had been distracted by seeing the others, and had run ahead to greet Paul. The two of you had hung back, and you were both silent as you watched the blonde launch a tickle attack onto the younger boy. 

You felt a brush of his fingers against yours, and you’d looked down to watch as he rubbed his knuckles against the back of your hand. You looked up at him, and saw that he was staring intently down at you. “Do you want to, maybe, let them watch him for a bit?” You knew what he was offering, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. A date. With Dwayne. You silently took his hand, and said a small, “Sure.”

ain't no love; pt. 1

"ain't no love in the heart of the city"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, and the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 PART 1 / PART 2 →

chapter summary: [READER POV] The one day you decide to skip breakfast, your deskmate comes in. AP Calc has never been more unbearable — and interesting.

content/warnings: brief mentions of death, depictions of hunger, a little bullying </3

word count: 4.8k

a/n: first series idk what im doing BUT WE ROLL (criticisms accepted lmao) proofread courtesy of @qiuweyballs you're a real one

You were starving. In AP Calc, no less, with probably the least talkative bunch of students in the whole school, the period before lunch. Whoever made your schedule was a monster, and whoever put this class together was even more of a monster. Everyone was dead silent, which was usually fine, but not when your stomach was threatening to detonate a nuclear grumble. Maybe it’d even echo given how big the classroom was. It was too early in the year to have a mental breakdown, though — you’d save that for midterms.

Even the teacher found the silence awkward, muttering to himself as you walked into the dreary classroom. He was a bit of a pushover, Mr. Wellston — a newbie who really had no idea what he was doing besides fixing his unevenly cut hair every two seconds while everyone pretended to know what was going on. God bless AP Calculus; you didn’t even know how to do the starter activity on the board.

But your teacher’s ridiculous inadequacy didn’t matter right now. The most important decision you had to make was what poor soul you were going to look at sideways when everyone turned to the source of the growl. Being nice wasn’t exactly an option when you were 3 seconds away from dying of starvation.

Thankfully, you were at the back, and the only seat next to you was empty. It wasn’t so bad, you tried convincing yourself as other students started to fill up the seats in front of you. Maybe you'd even forget about how hungry you were if you engrossed yourself in "one of the most riveting fields of mathematics", as advertised by your freshman year math teacher. Just one hour. You could hold back your hunger for one hour.

"Attendance..." Wellston murmured, looking around the room without much attention. It was reasonable to assume was here as usual, except for one kid who'd been absent since the first week. "Morales" — you didn't know his first name, not like you had the chance to learn it.

Scribbling down whatever activity there was, a part of you was glad this kid wasn't here today. It was one less person to hear the result of your unfortunate choice to not have breakfast this morning. You'd never spoken to the kid, but everyone knew why he wasn’t here. The renowed "hero", PC Davis had passed away — his dad. It was all over the news: "PDNY OFFICER DIES SAVING A CHILD", around mid-freshman year. You couldn't guess what was going on with the kid almost 2 whole semesters into sophomore year, but you couldn’t exactly think too hard when your pen had barely touched the page, and your other hand was clawing into the side of your shirt.

You were sure your stomach was going to growl, and loud. And your teacher was looking at you. Pretty much every muscle in your face was straining. You probably looked insane, which you’d actually rather be right now. The worst he would make was a bad joke, but the sheer panic that rose in your chest when Mr. Wellston started to walk towards you made your heels dig into the ground, ready to bolt out the class. You were exhausted, anxious, praying to anything you could think of that your teacher would just turn around and stop looking at you and—

Creak... Everyone's eyes, including Mr. Wellston's, turned to the door. You could make out someone with a black jacket — teacher? They wouldn’t let you wear jackets inside. Not important. Water.

"Nice seeing you here, Morales," Wellston said, his expression as unamused as he could attempt. The pushover was feeling confident today.

You drank so much water that it got stuck in your throat for a moment, making you scrunch up your face. "I'd take off that jacket if I were you,” Wellston continued.

The boy obliged with an incoherent mumble, stepping into the classroom and slipping off his jacket. His eyes landed on the seat right next to you. Even if he wasn't looking at you, something about his gaze made you look away immediately. Great. 53 minutes until lunch. Why did he have to show up today? Why did you wake up late and skip breakfast? A part of you was telling you it’d be better to not blame it on this guy either — maybe it was your gut. Ha-ha. Maybe you were insane.

Screeech! The slap of a notebook next to you snapped you out of your mini-spiral. You were now all the more aware of the boy next to you. His attendance was so low that it competed with your will to live, so you couldn’t help but look. His hair was in two braids slipping just past his collar, but that’s all you dared to notice. They were kind of cool, you admitted to yourself. The muttering was quickly shut down by a grating "Focus!" from Wellston, and you tried to get back to your work.

Calculus, calculus... When was the last time you’d gotten a question right? All you could do was keep uselessly pressing the fraction button on your calculator, watching the empty boxes stack up. It felt like he was staring at you. Math, come on, you know math. What was the probability he was looking at you? What if he was just glancing at you? What was his eye colour? Black or dark brown, probably. You could check — if he was staring, of course. Not his eye colour. That'd be weird.

That tight feeling built up in your stomach like the foreshock of an earthquake. You pictured yourself slamming your head into the desk, far too vividly to be normal — like an insane person. No need to traumatise the “new” kid on his first day back.

"Alright class, considering we have a full house now," You stopped yourself from imagining Wellston’s head slammed into a desk. "I suggest you all try to solve this problem. It's the hardest question that's ever come up on Calc BC, and you're getting secret access to it."

Yeah, like you cared. This man did not have a lesson plan, as usual. Now you had to fight the urge to look at the kind of cool kid next to you, fight your hunger like a famished Victorian child and fight the stupid calculations forming a jumbled mess in your brain. You were fighting a lot of things, and losing miserably. Just looking at the question made your brain hurt, and you could see it in the rest of your class too. All Calc BC nerds who were just now realising their mistake in taking this class with this particular teacher, probably. Visions was a scam.

"Does anyone have an answer?" It hadn't even been two minutes; it was like the man just wanted to feel smarter than everyone else. Something about him today was even more annoying than the pitiful jokes he usually came up with ― just because a "new" kid came in? Maybe this was to make up for the first day of class where he totally embarrassed himself mumbling all lesson, the bell ringing overtop of him.

The awkward silence and the slight cocky curl to the corner of Mr. Wellston's mouth made you question why they hired someone who was fresh out of college to teach you the classes that were supposed to get you into college. Your frustration only grew when you were going in circles with your attempt.

"No? Guys, you that you have a midterm soon." Helpful.

"This is more simple than you think." Explain it, then?

"Nobody? Really? Okay, you really should start paying attention, the―"

"Six." You almost forgot about the kid next to you until he spoke up. He put down his pen, giving Wellston an expectant look while the whole class was silent.

"…Six what?"

"Litres per hour."

The man quickly shuffled to his computer. Of course he didn't know the answer either.

"Six litres per hour," Wellston confirmed. No other kid had a chance to retort. Wellston seemed surprised for once. A part of you was surprised too at how simple the answer sounded when it came out of the "new" kid's mouth. You noticed that the boy didn't even have a calculator.

"Well, it looks like you all have something to learn from Morales here," he continued, something almost like contempt in his words. "Do you want to explain how you got that?"

The boy went about explaining it pretty simply, almost like he was reading off of a script. It was concise, different to what you'd learnt. Something about chain rule, which you truthfully had no idea how to actually use because someone didn't bother to go through it properly. Even if you were still somewhat unsure, it sounded easy enough.

"Interesting method..." Wellston murmured, trailing off for a moment. "Well, that settles it then. Do you guys understand how we got six?"

We? This guy... Aside from the fact that he was looking at you a little too much for comfort (probably because you were still clutching your stomach like you’d been shot) you had another reason to be annoyed by this teacher and his stupid hair. Everyone just returned his question with silent nods and mumbles, people taking opportunities to actually look at the calc-wiz.

You took a chance too, looking over at his seemingly unbothered face. You were almost right about the brown eyes. They were more coppery than anything, maybe even a little green. If he was staring before, you couldn't tell, his gaze trailing his desk with disinterest. Why did his eye colour even matter?

Forty minutes of class to go. You felt like you could eat your calculator at this point. The mystery kid didn't seem to need one anyway, and you weren’t getting much use out of it.

BRIIIIIIIIIING!

"The bell doesn't―" The screeching of chairs cut him off.

Like that would work this far into the semester. The Morales kid was already gone by the time you'd stood up. Letting out a drawn-out sigh, you debated between your tiredness and hunger. Would you try to fight to the death to get to the front of the lunch queue? All you wanted was food, maybe a nap afterwards, definitely no more calculus.

That couldn't happen, of course. For some reason, you were the only one left in class. You heard your name, wincing a little as you stopped in your journey out of the door.

"I just want to speak for a moment, spare me a few minutes?" You figured this was coming. It looked like he wanted to speak to you about something all class; his expressions weren’t exactly mysterious like that new kid. You wanted nothing more than to strangle him with his ugly patterned tie as you walked over to him.

Mr. Wellston leaned on his desk by his elbows, lowering his voice as if he was about to tell you something serious.

"You're not doing very well in this class." Okay… not that serious. "It’s the longer questions, I think. FRQs.”

Your grogginess made it impossible to focus on Wellston’s rant, but what you did pick up on was his weird accent. You guessed he wasn’t from Brooklyn, but the way he was talking right now let you pick up on the strange intonation in his voice you otherwise wouldn’t care to notice. Almost European-sounding. First that kid's eye colour and now your teacher's accent... what was it with you and random details today?

"So..." he continued, looking up at you with his head still low. "I'm going to start an extra class after school. I want you to come to it." Okay, this is worse. You couldn't have lunch, and now you couldn't even have after school.

"When is it?" It better not be some unreasonable time.

"Well, I've only got Friday afternoon free. You know how it is, meetings..." If he was trying to be apologetic, or convincing, he was failing at both. "I'll call you in later to discuss it further."

You just nodded, the grip on your backpack tightening. "Okay."

"It's important that you come!”

His voice was drowned out by the flood of students in the hall as you shut the door, turning on your heel to head to the cafeteria. The line was probably impossibly long by now. You couldn't care less about that extra Friday class. Forget college. You'd be a bum, or work at a WcDonalds. You'd probably make more money than Mr. Wellston there anyway. Forget Visions.

Forget that Morales kid who was standing outside the door all that time while you were too frustrated to notice.

You slumped down onto an empty table as you tried to rid your mind of him.

The probability that he'd show up to class with his cool braids and coppery-green eyes again was too low for you to care anyway.

"Soy Miles. Miles Morales."

Calc-wiz, or Miles as you just found out, was also in your Spanish class, and was also sitting directly behind you. It seemed like he was coming into more classes than he had been all semester — good for him?

"Morales… ¿Eres hispano, Miles?" (Are you Hispanic, Miles?) Miles simply nodded while Mrs Hernández flicked through the worksheets, licking her finger to set them down on individual desks. Spanish was one of the classes you actually liked. Apart from your classmates, Mrs Hernández was funny, and a good teacher, even if she was a little strict.

She paused for a moment to look at Miles again, eyebrow raised. "¿Guatemala?"

"Puerto Rico." The woman's raised eyebrow fell along with the rest of her expression, eyes narrowing in disappointment. She was always talking about where she was from, Guatemala. You found it kind of endearing, though you weren't sure if she'd get any teaching done if there was another kid from there.

"All these years y nadie de Guatemala..." (and nobody from Guatemala...) She simply frowned, cracking her knuckles while making her way back to the front. Most of the people taking AP Spanish were Hispanic, just trying to get extra credits, but it seemed like Mrs. Hernández was out of luck when it came to finding her natural favourite. "Vale clase, quiero que miren este articulo sobre―" (Okay class, I want you to look at this article about―)

All that class you felt like Miles was staring at the back of your head, of course. If he wasn't uncomfortably silent, he was conversing with Mrs Hernández, and she came over more than once to talk to him behind you. As much as you wanted to overhear, they were talking too quietly and quickly — and in Spanish. What they were talking about wasn't your business — most likely about his absence. You had also no idea what this article was talking about. It was something about art, but most of the words you were reading were unfamiliar as your highlighter hovered uselessly over the paper.

It had almost been a week since Miles first came in. You constantly saw him get pulled out of class or talking to teachers — except in AP Calc; it seemed like he was doing just fine there. He could speak Spanish fine too, but was behind on everything else. Other than teachers, he never really talked to anyone. You occasionally saw him with his earbuds on in the hallways, but more often his jacket was what got him chased down by teachers; the kid didn’t really seem to care. Good for him. He was probably more ahead of you anyway given the way your studies were going.

“Oye, look a little alive!” You noticed Mrs Hernandéz standing over you, and that your highlighter bleeding through the paper from pressing too long. A half-hearted “lo siento” (sorry) is all you could offer. “Extraño (strange) — What's different today, chicos? Is it because you’ve got a new friend here?” She crossed her arms, eyeing everyone with her brows knitted together.

The atmosphere around Miles was strange. Not only was he known for being missing since freshman year, but also for his late father. It wasn’t a secret, as much as he didn’t talk about it. Everyone could tell from the way teachers whispered to him and how he disappeared to the counsellor’s office that he wasn’t treated like any other student here. In fact, he didn’t even live in the dorms according to what you’d heard. He was quiet, but the rumours were undeniably loud. You tried not to involve yourself — you hadn’t even spoken to him yourself, anyway.

“He’s not the only Puerto Rican. You gonna forget about us, Señora?” The voice made you hold back a sigh. When Rafael started speaking there was no stopping him. You figured it was time; no matter how far he was moved from his friends, he always found a way to talk to them from the other side of the classroom. He was also right next to you. You had a few reasons to want to drop this class, and each of them were all going “yeah” in agreement to what Rafael had to say.

“I think you’ve forgotten that you have an article in front of you, Rafa.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at your teacher’s words, and nickname. To your dismay, Rafael noticed you immediately.

“You makin’ fun of me, bro?” He turned his head to stare at you.

“Rafael,” Hernandéz warned.

“Nah, Señora, you don’t get it, I should be sitting over there.”

She wasn’t amused by the way he was gesturing to his friends. “I’ll kick you out.”

“Come on man…” He just threw up his hands and sunk into his far too tiny chair. You prayed he wouldn't start rocking on it and make that god-awful creaking sound. Mrs. Hernández simply turned to ignore him and continue with class.

“Why’s he special anyway?” Rafael mumbled to himself. “Famous cause of his dad?”

Tension – it was so thick you could cut it. The only thing that was cutting through it, apart from your Spanish teacher’s rant, was Miles’ gaze. You could feel it burning right through you. It seemed like Rafael, the moron, for some twisted reason, wanted Miles to hear that.

If you had anything to say at all, it was too late to give Rafael a piece of your mind. Considering how quickly he'd shut you down, it would be useless to stick up for some kid you barely knew. Nobody else heard Rafael anyway; it'd just pit everyone against you. Still, a part of you felt bad. Even though you didn’t really know Miles, he was in a lot of your classes. You’d gotten used to his presence over the past week: moving out of the way so he could get to his seat, occasionally picking up each other’s fallen pens, giving unshared glances to see how the other was doing on the work.

He seemed nice enough despite the lack of words you'd exchanged, but when you turned a little to fix your chair, the expression you caught was anything but. It was almost scary, if you could make out anything from his darkened features. There was a strange sense of focus in his eyes, like he was calculating something – deliberating. You didn't try to guess what, keeping silent and trying to listen to Mrs. Hernández talk about the article while ignoring the deadly gaze simmering behind you.

If you were stronger, scarier, more influential, maybe you’d punch one through Rafael right now. Just looking at him was irritating, and it's not like you hadn't thought of it before. Maybe you wouldn’t have to, though, because it seemed like Miles was thinking the exact same thing. As much as you wanted to learn Spanish and not have a fight happen right next to you, it’d be nice if he was able to teach Rafael to shut up instead of the material he didn't seem to care about.

Miles didn’t look particularly strong — he was kind of scary-looking right now, but that didn’t mean he could take on a 6ft tall football player, no matter how pissed off said football player made him. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but Miles stayed put for the rest of class; it felt like a sniper was right behind you.

The all-too-familiar creak of the chair made you automatically grit your teeth.

“Oy, mi pana, you got gum?” Rafael murmured to you in his worst friendly voice. It was 10 minutes till the end of class, and he was asking now? You still had no idea what pana meant since he moved next to you, but the way he said it always made you feel icky regardless.

You quickly shook your head, getting a sigh out of him. You hoped he’d give up, but he just leaned over to whisper to you. “What do you think of that dude, huh?

“What?”

“Strange, yeah?”

“He’s okay.” Your defence was quiet, but it was the most you could do as you heard Miles scribbling right behind you.

“He’s drawing, dude.”

You looked at him almost incredulously. Rafael just rolled his eyes.

“Why do you care?” Your voice came out louder than you wanted.

“¡Silencio!” You gave Mrs. Fernandez, another one of your muffled “lo siento”s, shrinking into your seat as her eyes locked onto you. Snickering from Rafael’s friends only fuelled the embarrassment surging through your cheeks. Miles shuffled in his seat behind you, followed by the sound of paper being crumpled up. You wanted to crumple up the smug expression plastered on Rafael's face right now.

Class ended with another stack of homework in your backpack, and you were more than happy to leave. Free period — you could get a start on the homework. Or talk to Wellston about that extra class. The thought made you wince, but you didn’t exactly have a choice. You had to see him by the end of the day.

“Ay, Milo!” You turned to see Rafael and his little group approaching Miles’ desk. “What’s good?”

“Nothing.” He kept his voice low, pushing his chair under the desk. The boys just laughed as he got up, a grating mix of malice and mirth.

“Right, right. Puerto Rican, eh?” It sounded like Rafael was just talking for the sake of talking. You were also standing for the sake of standing too, of course.

Miles let out a mumble as a confirmation of sorts. Heading for the door, he was blocked by Rafael.

“Ay, where you goin’? Let’s talk, huh? Got a free period?” You could see Miles’ eyes narrow, a flash of impatience in his demeanour before he let out a breath. Rafael was trying to get a kick out of this. A kick out of some kid with a dead dad.

“Someone’s waiting for me.”

“Huh? What’d you say? You got friends?” The start of more laughs were already forming around Miles.

You didn’t know what came over you. Maybe it was the regret of not saying anything earlier, or the strange intrigue you’d felt since a week ago. Peeking your head through the door, you took a step back into the classroom. “Miles, c’mon.”

The gnawing feeling only intensified as you felt four sets of eyes on you at the same time. You’d rather it be hunger than the anxiety coursing through you at that moment.

“Comin',” he murmured, shoving past the three boys towards the door.

The two of you left the classroom, hearing a faint “what the hell man?” as the door fell shut. Miles lingered behind you as you approached the next turn in the hallway.

“What’s your name?” He’d already stepped in front of you.

No thanks or anything? Well, he didn't really owe you anything. It was "the right thing to do", like the many anti-bullying posters around the school encouraged you to do. God damn Visions.

“You uh… know my name.”

“Wanna hear it from you.” His voice had a little twinge of an accent that you hadn’t noticed before. You tried not to think too hard on it. Too many details for too little of an interaction.

“You’ve gotta introduce yourself first — pretty sure that’s how it works,” you tried to joke, something like embarrassment replacing the lingering anxiety in your stomach.

“I did — in class.” Miles’ face was unreadable, but there was something like amusement in his voice.

“Not to me specifically, though.”

The two of you stood in the hallway as people ushered past you. A freshman almost hit you running past, making the two of you retreat to stand beside some lockers. Damn freshmen. You were a freshman only last year, but shoving past them in the cafeteria wasn’t exactly fun. Miles seemed unbothered, as he usually did.

“You seriously don’t know my name?” you continued, almost frowning a little.

“Let’s say I don’t.” He leaned back against the cold blue metal of the lockers, tilting his head at you. The tiny mannerism only made your embarrassment grow. “What’s your name, pana?”

“…I still don’t know what that means.” The frustrated sigh you let out made the corner of his mouth curl up.

“And I still don’t know your name, pana.” No wonder you didn’t bother to talk to anyone. It seemed like you never had the upper hand, first with Rafael and now with Miles. Truthfully, though, you knew which you’d rather talk to.

“Sounds like a food,” you continued, shrugging.

“Could be,” he pretended to muse. And to think you thought he was nice. You hadn’t decided to be annoyed yet, though.

“You know my name, Miles.” You must’ve looked funny the way you crossed your arms and furrowed your eyebrows, because that got an entertained breath out of him.

“Who’s Miles? Haven’t introduced myself yet.” His smirk wrote guilty all over his face.

“Milo, then?” It was a bit harsh, but his cockiness made you say it without much thought. The apology was written on your face already, and you unfolded your arms, deciding you couldn’t have Mrs. Hernandéz’s sass today.

“You wanna be called pana forever?” He slipped an earbud into one of his ears, the blue light flickering into life. At least you didn’t tick him off.

“Not like I care,” you murmured, trying to take a step away.

“Seems like you do.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you asked, trying to keep your tone in check as you glanced down the hallway.

“Do you?” You felt like you were talking into a mirror, one that reflected back a person that got all the more mysterious and annoying when you did.

“Yeah, actually.” Mr. Wellston’s class. The thought made your eyes narrow, probably in exhaustion, most likely in irritation. “Need to speak to a teacher.”

His brow raised in mild interest. “You in trouble?”

“I wish. It’s about some extra class I have to take.”

“Calc?” You turned to look at him again, and his expression was more knowing than curious now.

“How’d you guess…?” It sounded more like a statement, your tone more disappointed than surprised. Were you really that bad at Calculus? Maybe you did need this class, especially if calc-wiz thought so.

“…You have lunch today?” he thought to ask instead. For a moment, you were confused, until you remembered calc last week.

“Shut up.” Your cheeks burned, hand balling up the fabric of your uniform. God. Damn it. All.

“Aight, sorry.”

More silence. You should’ve blamed the growling on him.

“Why the class though? You failing?”

“I’m not failing… Just need some help, I guess” Your shrug wasn’t very reassuring.

“Anyone else goin’?” The longer he kept inquiring, the more you figured Mr. Wellston’s attitude was building up.

“No clue. Bet everyone else is gonna join, though. He’ll probably tell everyone anyway.” The people in your class were quiet, but desperate to out-do each other. Maybe the problem wasn’t you, but the fact that everyone else was trying so hard.

“He didn’t ask me.” The corner of his mouth dimpled into his cheek in thought.

“You’re good at calc anyway.”

“Haven’t been here a while, so I gotta catch up, right? Lemme come with.”

You tried to think of what to say as your hand found the back of your neck, but he was already walking past you. Miles looked back at you to see if you were following.

If he had somewhere to be, it didn’t seem to matter. You noted the slight rhythm to his step, wondering what he was listening to, and if his eyes were green or brown. Ripping away your gaze from him before you could chase that thought, you tried to dodge all the freshmen running around as the bell went for next period.

You had more questions than answers so far — both in your backpack to do this period and in your mind. Aside from Miles, you wondered what that extra class would be like, and what Wellston would say. A part of you hoped that Miles would be in that class with you, despite your less than favourable introduction. Maybe you’d figure out why the answer was six litres an hour. Maybe you could be friends.

What was the probability of that? Some questions couldn’t be solved with a calculator. But Miles didn’t need one, after all.

thank you for reading. im so tired of looking at this but its okay part 1 !!! hooray !!! next chapter is miles pov .... need more Substances in my Bloodstream before i post that though LMAO

reblogs appreciated!!!! go back to the series masterlist here or to my atsv masterlist here :)

Do Better 2 - Tony Stark

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Words: 3.7k Warnings: None? Some angst - tried to make this one a little happier than the last though! It’s a rollercoaster. Summary: I was very surprised that people liked the first part as much as they did, and I got a few requests to show how Tony and Mom met, and Tony and Kid’s relationship a few months later. Hope it isn’t trash, if it is, let me know!

Going to be honest, I’m in a big writing slump. I feel like everything I write is coming out wrong and it sucks. Hoping this one is alright, but I did do most of it on a good-ish day. Thank you so much for being patient, I hope everyone is doing well!

(gif not mine!)

There were times in his life where Tony really had to admit that he’d be nothing without Pepper Potts. She was the type of person who’d do her job and do it well regardless of the circumstances. Hell, most of the time she’d do his job too. But these were the early days, long before he’d realised her importance, and even longer before he’d realised his own feelings for her.

She’d only just started working for him and somehow she had already managed to drag him out of his workshop and into his worst nightmare. He’d never liked the theatre and he didn’t care much for dancing either. He wasn’t the type to sit still for hours on end, and he never quite understood how his mother managed to persuade his stone-cold father to always go with her. 

Keep reading

this is the money dog, repost in the next 24 hours and money will come your way!!

Seams drabble: Patch

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: None

Summary: Ellie finds a Pride-themed sew on patch that leads to revelations.

Warnings: Pure fluff and love for this girl, some angst, coming out, total disregard of canon because I don't know how it goes in the game.

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: This idea struck me out of the blue many months ago, and I was waiting for 'the right place' in the series, until I mentioned it to a dear friend in passing conversation and then I just started writing it. Very lightly edited. Set at unspecified time frame after Part IV.

Ellie hums to herself from her spot in a cosy corner of the Outfitters, one watchful eye on the door. It’s an uncharacteristically slow Saturday, but she’s not complaining - she has her hands full.

A big canvas sack lies empty on the floor, its contents strewn haphazardly all over the wooden floor. The mess drives you up the wall, but you know better than to question her (very questionable) methods, so you’re ensconced in the safety of your studio while she sorts through the clothes and odds and ends that the patrollers brought back from their most recent outing.

Though infrequent - most settlements around Jackson have been painstakingly pilfered for anything useful over the years - it’s her favourite duty at the shop. Lucy is looser with the rules, but sometimes, you let Ellie keep little knick knacks that won’t sell.

The teenager goes through the pile thoroughly. Shirts go in one stack, jeans in another, followed by shoes, hats and scarves. Turning to the heap of smaller loose trinkets, she separates mismatched buttons, safety pins, shoelaces and zippers (as Maria always says, every little help), when something colourful piques her attention.

Plucking the piece of fabric out of the jumble, Ellie recognises it as a decorative patch that she’s seen sewn onto bags and shirts. It’s the size of her palm, cut in the shape of a rainbow, the colours still bright. Over the arches, bold white text outlined in black spells out NYC PRIDE 2003.

Tucking it into her pocket for now, she quickly finishes the rest of the sorting. Clothes go into the bin to be collected by the laundry, shoes for the cobbler’s, and accessories into a box to be priced and shelved.

Ambling into the back of the shop where you’re busy hemming a pair of jeans, Ellie plops into one of the rolling chairs, straddling the back of it, and the wheels screech as she careens across the floor to your sewing station.

Your lips quirk as you look up briefly at her. ‘Find anything interesting?’

‘Just this,’ she replies, flashing you the patch and reading aloud, ‘NYC Pride 2003. What does that mean?’

‘There used to be a big pride parade for the LGBT community every year in New York City,’ you explain. ‘They used to close down the streets and everything for it, it was a huge event.’

Ellie blinks, your answer taking her by surprise. She clears her throat, a distant buzzing at the back of her head as she turns the patch over pensively in her hand. ‘What - do you know what it was like?’

‘I’ve never been to one, but it always looked incredible. People used to line the streets in support, and everyone dressed up. There’d be rainbow flags everywhere, floats, dancing, music, and of course, it was an important way for the community to highlight and push for LGBT rights.’

‘You mean -’ she pauses, the unfamiliar feeling of stumbling over her words making her hands sweat. ‘You mean, people would just be out in public, like, being themselves?’

‘More than that - they were celebrating themselves.’

Ellie doesn’t realise she’s fallen quiet until you speak, ‘You can keep it if you want.’

Her head snaps up, disoriented. ‘Keep what?’

‘That.’ You nod towards the patch she’s clinging onto so tightly that her knuckles have gone white.

Panic prickles the back of her neck, an embarrassed heat suddenly making her want to pull at the collar of her flannel. But then you shrug and say, almost flippantly, ‘It’s pretty.’

‘Yes,’ she blurts out in hasty agreement, letting out a breath she’s been unconsciously holding. ‘It’s very pretty.’

Ellie is relieved when you turn back to the sewing machine, leaving her to retrace her steps to the front of the shop. The patch sits on the counter, where she leaves it, as she goes about her business for the rest of her shift.

Her eyes travel to the rainbow, and she thinks of how she wasn’t like the other girls at school, who fawned over dogeared photos of singers and actors long dead. She thinks of how she’s always known she’s different, but didn’t have the vocabulary to express it.

She thinks of Riley.

Riley.

For Riley.

When half three rolls around, you spot the teenager lingering by the studio doorway out of the corner of your eye, her backpack dangling from her fingers. Any other Saturday, you’d be lucky to catch the blurry shape of her shadow when she gallops out of the shop, throwing a see ya over her shoulder.

Thrown by her silence, you prompt, ‘Yes, Ellie?’

Scruffing the tips of her well-worn sneakers on the floorboards, she bites her lip in an atypical display of hesitance. ‘Pin, could you help me sew the patch onto my backpack? Please?’

You smile, eyes soft. ‘I’d love to. C’mon.’

‘You don’t have to do it now,’ she protests, feigning nonchalance, but her twitchy hands give her away. ‘Like, whatever, it’s no big deal.’

Wanting to put her at ease, you shrug. ‘No time like the present. Where do you want it?’

Putting her bag on your work surface, she points. ‘Guess right here under the wings.’

‘Perfect. Can you unzip the bag for me?’

You have Ellie hold the rainbow exactly where she wants it while you thread the needle, and you start sewing it in by hand, stitch by tidy stitch. It barely takes a couple of minutes, but time is of the essence - you haven’t heard the girl take a single breath of air since the anchor stitch.

Snipping off the thread with a flourish and giving it a once over, you grin. ‘There, all done.’

Ellie ducks her head, quiet as she takes the bag from your hands, running a thumb over the arches of the rainbow. Without a word, she suddenly throws her arms around you, hugging you tight.

‘Thanks, Pin,’ she mumbles into your hair.

Your heart swells, and you squeeze her back even tighter. ‘Anything for you, kiddo.’

On Monday morning, Ellie hovers in the hallway outside the kitchen, observing.

Joel is at the table, oblivious with his back to the door, her breakfast of two fried eggs over and easy and toast waiting at her usual spot at the table. Taking a deep breath, she bites the bullet and walks in, backpack in her hand.

‘Mornin’,’ grunts Joel, almost done with his own eggs, sunny side up.

‘Morning,’ she parrots back as she makes herself comfortable.

She usually just dumps her bag on the floor, but today, she pulls out the chair next to her and drops it into the seat. The unusual movement catches Joel’s eye, and he takes a good long look at the backpack.

Eventually, he points vaguely in what she assumes is the direction of the rainbow patch, and says, ‘That looks new.’

‘Yup, Pin helped me sew it on.’

He purses his lips, asking around a mouthful of egg. ‘You know what Pride is?’

She swallows thickly, and it takes a beat to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. ‘Yeah, Pin told me.’

He nods, then turns his attention back to his plate with no fanfare.

Not entirely sure if he caught the nuance but her mind too in knots to care, Ellie picks up her fork and doesn’t think twice when he gets up to put his dish in the sink.

She nearly chokes on eggs when strong arms close around her shoulders in a vice-like grip, scratchy beard on her temple, Joel’s voice so thick that it makes her think if she turns around, she’ll see tears in his eyes.

‘Proud of you, baby girl.’

Later that afternoon, Joel finds you alone in the shop, restocking the women’s outerwear rack.

You toss him a smile over your shoulder. ‘Hey, what are you doing here?’

‘Lucy ‘round?’ he asks.

‘When is she ever?’ you quip with no bite.

Three steps and he’s spun you around by the waist, soft lips latching onto yours in a sweet kiss with just a hint of heated aftertaste that has you swaying on your feet when he pulls back.

A breathless laugh bubbles in your throat as you palm his whiskered jawline. ‘Why, thank you for that, Mr. Miller.’

The corners of his eyes crinkle, and he brushes his nose tenderly against your cheek. ‘No, thank you, sweetheart.’

Notes: I hope I wrote Ellie's coming out as sensitively as I hoped to. As I mentioned, I have no idea how or if she comes out in the game, but despite being such a chatty teenager, I think she'd find it difficult to broach the subject with Joel in conversation. For me, this was a fun way of weaving in her part-time job at the Outfitters and Pin into her coming out story that stays true to Ellie's character. I hope you enjoyed this - comments and reblogs appreciated as always!

P.S. I am not 'back' back, so I don't know when I will next update Seams. Thank you for your patience while I try to navigate my way back to some semblence of writing regularly, whenever that may be.

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the dividers ❤️

'I Have A Girlfriend! ₊‧.°

Post-Anesthesia!Miles Morales x BlackFem!Reader᧔᧓Ingredients: Crack, kisses, and a lil bit of smiles! zᶻ∘⋆TWs: Menace Miles, N-word usage, Cussing, Jeff abuse, me brushing up on Spanish ⁺˚⋆W/C: 1k! ♡⸝⸝A/N: Crackfic abt post-op Miles 😝 I spent 20 minutes trying to get tumblr to work on my fuhkin computer. No images but dividers idc

"Miles, Put your tongue back in your mouth!" Mrs. Morales urged as she pulled him back on the couch. "Ay, Dios! ¿Cuándo te poniste tan pesado?" She huffed, flopping back on the couch. Miles didn't answer, groaning in frustration as he slid halfway down the sofa in protest. "MamiiiiiiiiiI!" He whined in a shrill voice, gauze muffling his every syllable. "Yes, Miles? What is it now?" Mama Rio asked, her tone laced with amused irritation.

"Dónde está mi novia?" He muttered as the top of his head smushed against the glazed hardwood floor. "She's on her way Miles, calm down you're not supposed to talk too much…MILES! NO NO NO!" She urged as she watched her son attempt to spit out the bloody gauze tucked into the back of his mouth. There were three soft knocks at the Morales's door, with Mama Rio sighing in relief as she opened the door to reveal your smiling face, your eyes widening as you heard Miles's low groans of disproval in the background. "Hi, Mrs. Morales! Is he…okay?" You asked quietly, peering your head through the front door as you watched Miles inch slowly off of the sofa. "Hey, sweetie! Oh don't worry about him he's…being dramatic…" she trailed off, slowly gazing at her son who was now folded in half on the floor.

She giggled quietly, stepping to the side as she permitted you entry into her warm and inviting home. You made a B-line for Miles, scooping the liquid boy up under his arms and laying him back on the couch. "Hey, my love! How are you-…Aht! Nigga!?" you began, eyes widening in shock as he shushes you, grabbing your face in his entire hand as he barely held his eyes open. "No! I…Have a girlfriend!" he slurs, doing a half-crunch to be eye level with you as he attempts to make eye contact. You laughed quietly, gently easing him back to his resting position. "I am your girlfriend!" You chuckled, watching as his eyes widened as wide as the anesthesia would allow them to.

"Muñequita! Te amo tan mucho…" He exclaimed, engulfing you in a surprisingly lethal hug that left you tapping his forearm for release. You nodded avidly, loosening his arm slightly so you could comfortably breathe before slipping away from his grasp to go help Mama Rio with some household chores. You spent around 20 minutes making small talk with her, talking about how his procedure went, how long it would take to recover, and a bit about how much of a fool he was acting just minutes before your arrival. You giggled as you gossiped like school girls, perking up when you heard the front door swing open. "Oh, Hello Mr. Morales!" You greeted, waving a hand energetically from the kitchen sink.

"Hey! Thanks for coming to check on…Miles." He begins, head slowly turning towards his son who was now face down and completely on the floor. He was babbling absolute nonsense, singing songs in the completely wrong key to keep himself distracted as he attempted to find his footing. You rushed over to him, Mama Rio holding up her camera and covering her mouth to silence any giggles that threatened to break free. "C'mon, Vamos a recuperarte…that's it…" You grunted, lifting a very zooted Miles off the ground, knees buckling as he leaned his head on your shoulder and rested every pound of his body weight against you. You gasped, nearly falling over before Jeff quickly grabbed Miles, attempting to throw him over his shoulder and get him to his room. Everyone fell silent as a loud *pop!* noise was heard, Rio laughing as loudly as humanly possible while Jeff winced in slight pain. Miles put all his strength possible into popping his father, remaining groggy and unafraid as he gave his father a sleepy but stern glare. "Who the FUCK are you nigga?" he garbled, feet dangling in the air as Jeff held him up under his arms just above his head. He gave him the most livid glare that would've sent sober Miles into a coma, sighing and shaking his head as he mumbled to himself. "Yeah, that's it alright. Grounded for TWO MONTHS!" You lost all composure, wheezing and cackling on the floor as you watched Jeff angrily swaddle Miles in his hoodie, tying the sleeves of the red cotton together in a makeshift way to make sure his arms didn't move again.

You and Rio struggled to find your air as Jeff threw him down onto the couch, wrapping two blankets underneath the cushion and around Miles to hold him in place. Miles cried loudly, screaming as his life depended on it as his father put his hands on his hips, giving him one final glare, and walking away. You struggled to breathe as you got up and patted Miles's head, hooting and hollering as you wiped the remnants of tears from your waterline. You were just about to calm down, taking deep breaths as you stabilized your lungs. "Oh, hey, Kitty!" you cooed, glancing over at the family cat as he jumped up on Miles's chest. Miles squinted at the small ginger cat, taking it in for about 10 seconds before screaming. "WOAH WOAH WOAH WHATS WRONG!?" You asked, watching as Miles's face contorted into one of genuine horror. The cat was now long gone, swishing off into the hallway to take several deep bites of food. Miles was still screaming, babbling incoherently about some sort of 'overgrown rat' being on his chest. You lost it once more, head and chest throbbing as you laughed yourself into hysteria. You cuddled up by your boyfriend, shushing him through tears as you peppered gentle kisses to the side of his face. "Miles! Calm down, okay? It's literally your cat!" You giggled, patting his face gently as he squirmed in the makeshift straight jacket his father put him in. After calming him down and getting him to drink some water you noticed him begin to mellow out, holding him close to you as you slowly silenced him to sleep.

"C'mon, shut the mouth…No-No, don't spit out your gauze we'll change that later. I love you, Miles!" "Bleh."

Simu!Ken thought— he beaches off for you after one of the Kens or Barbies makes a mean comment about you. And ofc he wins

a/n: HAHAAAAA anon, your mind!! 😭🤌🏻 I decided to make this with both (mean) Ken and Barbie, and did my own lil 'thing' here ;))) thanks, sweetie!! (open to be read as Ryan!Ken, as usual!)

warnings: fluff! (+ teaching meanies a lesson & strong language!)

» fancy reading something new? check out my full m.list!

It's one thing to genuinely get on Ken's bad side, but it's another if the rest of the Barbieland follow suit. 

Mean Barbie and Ken simultaneously arrived months after your Ken’s departure to find you, becoming the talk of the town in an instant. Though, 90% of the time, it was all for the wrong reasons. 

Mean Barbie was demeaning, having a keen interest in insulting others for their interests and even their appearances. Mean Ken was no better, laughing in the Kens' face and Alan for liking anything that was, in his words, 'too girlish'. 

Basically, they weren’t the best people to vibe with. 

While both Weird Barbie and President Barbie tried their best to be civil with the two, the former was more vocal about her distaste, always giving them the stink eye as though she knew their words only went in one ear and out the other. President Barbie was more subtle, though she made sure to drop reminders about their actions here and there.

So when the mean match overheard the cheers and excitement over the infamous Ken coming back for a visit with his sweetheart, oh, they were not having it. 

But soon, they were going to learn that their actions would, in fact, have consequences.

'Cause as the human saying goes; the more you fuck around, the more you find out.

President Barbie was there to greet you and Ken at the entrance, giving you a motherly hug before giving you a heads up and whispering in your ear about the notorious duo.

Though their behaviour wasn't nearly as bad as what you're used to in the real world, it didn't make them any less unpleasant to be around. Kudos to the Barbies and Kens (+ Midge & Allan!) for trying their best not to leave you alone with the two of them, though!

And it only took your Ken two days to do everyone a favour. 

"Hoo, boy, here we go." Mean Ken scoffed at the sight of your Ken excitedly telling you about the surfboard he oftentimes used back when his whole purpose was to be Ken, "That was the cool guy around here?" 

"Right? And I just don't see what's so special about her." His girl sneered.

"Tell me about it. Should've stayed where she came from like she was supposed to." 

The rest of the Barbies and Kens froze up. They gave Pompadour Ken a quick glance, who was now uncharacteristically quiet.

Oh no. 

Who were they to insult you for being you?  

You've also noticed the two literally talking crap about you, though you were more concerned about Ken.

"Ken," You gently stroked his face, hoping it'll ease the sudden tension in his jaw, "Hey, don't listen to them." 

"Hey, pal!" Mean Ken called out to him, "Wanna show us your lil' beach moves? Maybe tell us what's so special about your girl?" 

Ken didn't speak up. He has millions of reasons why you were extremely special to him, but he learnt from you that losing his cool would be a total win for his opposition. 

But the mean twins didn't take being ignored too kindly.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" He barked, pushing your Ken. He nearly lost his balance, almost hitting you with the surfboard he was holding. 

It wasn't long before Ken finally lost his cool, swinging the surfboard square in Mean Ken's face. He flew away at an immense height and questionable physics, falling on his back just by the sea. 

Some laughed, others cheered. By now, everyone was watching, even Mermaid Barbie and Ken showed up after hearing about a possible showdown on the Malibu Beach. They shook their heads the way disapproving parents would before waving at you, happy to see a nicer face in town.

"Oh my gosh, Ken!" Mean Barbie squawked, running to her man and shaking his unconscious body a little too aggressively, "What did you do?!" 

"I just gave him what he deserved." Your Ken shrugged, running his fingers through his hair that had messed up when he lost his cool.

"You didn't have to like, punch him!" 

"It was gonna happen eventually," Alan murmured to himself, only to earn sounds and nods of approval from the rest of the Kens and Barbies. Even if Pompadour Ken wasn't the one putting them in their place, someone would've. 

Sure, maybe a dance-off would've been sufficient.

Buuut, then again, it was probably the real-world air that he's been breathing in for so long, so it was only a matter of time before his patience snapped, and it did when they started running their mouths about you.

After all, Mean Ken preferred 'manlier' efforts.

"You're in huge trouble, weirdo!" She hissed, believing your Ken's (necessary) violence could easily banish you two from Barbieland. 

"And what're you gonna do about it?" It was your turn to challenge her, standing closer to her with your arms crossed. You weren't just going to stand there and let her spit venom at your boyfriend, much less at your new friends. 

Just a reminder that your hands were rated E for everyone.

"I'll… I'll…! I'll tell Psycho Barbie!" 

"That won't be necessary." Everyone's heads turned to the side to see Weird Barbie approaching, boots off as she walked on the sandy floor with a delighted smirk on her face, "And that's Weird Barbie to you, missy."

She turned to Pompadour Ken, patting him on the shoulder with a grin, "Good job, kid. Didn't think you had it in you but it's probably that wild human air," She then turned to you with a wink, "You got quite the keeper." 

Ken mirrored her proud smile.

"A little help, doc?" She nodded at Doctor Barbie, who immediately rushed to her side. Weird Barbie pointed behind her with her thumb, "Give that guy a quick scan before the President gets here, will ya?" 

Weird Barbie was no doubt beyond excited to report the two, and with tons of eyes as witnesses. 

"Hey," Your Ken placed his hand on the small of your back, "I'm sorry about that. You wanna head home or…?" 

Ken was less than pleased by the thought of the day being ruined but he'd understand if it had because of the mere presence of the two. Some may call him dramatic, but to you, he was just making sure of your comfort. 

"No, no," You shook your head, resting your head on his chest, "I'm okay." 

The groans and whines of Mean Ken and Barbie respectively as President Barbie berated their actions were just bonuses to the feeling of you against him. Softening him up from what had happened prior like kneading dough ever so gently.

"I recall a certain someone promising to play his guitar around a campfire for me?" You teased him, hoping to lift his spirits.

"I did, didn't I?" He hummed, grabbing his guitar bag that lay on the beach chair before wrapping his other arm around you, "C'mon, I know the perfect place."

He brought you to the spot furthest from the 'busy zone', though that didn't stop his friends from dropping stuff like a blanket, sausages and marshmallows to roast as a thank you for his service. 

All in all, the night ended on a much higher note, with your boyfriend serenading you with romantic and cheesy songs he learnt back in the real world and stuffing yourselves with some good campfire food.

» a/n: not me imagining the punch scene from the Friday movie for this piece 😭

» more simu!ken content here: 1 – 2

» gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 1.9k

Synopsis: Miles tells his Uncle Aaron the real reason why he’ll always answer his phone for you.

Warnings: Cursing, no usage of [y/n] or second person perspective, brief mention of potential gun usage, old school gang terms (Aaron refers to a gun as a 'pole') I envisioned a late teen 42!Miles so he’s around 17-18 here, but still keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!

A/N: I know I said that the previous fic would more than likely be my only attempt at 42!Miles but the ugly ass nigga is growing on me so…here yall go i guess

Song Suggestions: “So Into You” (Remix) by Sydney Renae; “LORD FORGIVE ME” by Tobe Nwigwe ft. Fat Nwigwe & Pharrell; “Run Tha Streetz” by Tupac, Storm, Mutah, Michel’le

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed @pnkweb

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It went without saying that if it didn’t pertain to family or business, Aaron wasn’t quite fond of the use of phones.

He had a real old school view on them; didn’t like how kids these days were always stuck nose deep into the devices. Of course, he came from a generation where a phone’s only use was to contact another person. He never got into the hype of the latest iPhones, nor did he understand the need for five different cameras attached to the device. The only benefit he saw with the rectangular device was that it made communication more prompt and precise (though he’d never admit that he appreciated being able to play any games he wanted, at his disposal, at any time he wished).

So, naturally, when Miles became old enough to engage in his ‘business’, the one rule Aaron posed that didn’t pertain to the ‘game’ was that him being on his phone was an absolute no-go.

“I ain’t got time for you to be distracted by that thing,” he’d said the very first night Aaron trusted the younger to bring him along, “if you gon’ be in, I need you to be all the way in. No half-assin’ this shit, you hear?”

And of course, Miles agreed, no matter how insufferable the first few weeks of patrol were when Aaron literally locked his cellular device in a safe back at the workshop. While it served to pry the connection the fifteen year old had with the device at the time, it was also his way of teaching Miles to not rely on the device for communication, prompting Miles to fortify new avenues of such. Aaron had a genius nephew, after all, and expected nothing less from the person who would soon take up his mantle as The Prowler.

Though, Aaron started to notice a shift in the practice behavior a few months ago, and it made him wonder had his teachings begun to fall short, even after a few years of the settled routine.

He’d notice the flexing of the younger’s arm whenever the faint buzz from the vibration of Miles’ phone sounded, no doubt squeezing the device in his pocket with his hand.

Aaron also was not ignorant to Miles’ dipping off to the side to answer a quick call in hushed tones, and the words used to address the other person on the line made it clear to the older man that it wasn’t Rio calling him, and it piqued Aaron’s curiosity even more.

Though, Aaron could never say anything, since Miles was sure to put his phone on do not disturb before heading out into the night, and the calls always remained under a minute or two, not taking too much time away from their very serious business. He found himself frustrated because Aaron couldn’t be mad at him for being responsible for his phone usage, despite his own feelings towards the usage of such devices. Yet, it irked him all the same when Miles would take a peek at his phone during a moment of down time, or when he’d caught the boy staring at his messages a couple of times during a debriefing session.

“Aye, c’mon man,” Aaron finally grumbles out one night, sucking his teeth at the sight of Miles tapping away on the brightly lit screen close to his face, illuminating his melanated features, “I need you outta that shit, we got work to do.”

“A’ight, a’ight,” says the younger as he finishes off a text, pocketing his phone and brushing past Aaron briskly, “just had to answer my girl real quick. I’m off it.”

“You better be,” Aaron scolds, “we need you at a’hunnid tonight, Miles. No excuses.”

Though Aaron wasn’t about to let Miles’ admission slip under the radar, the current task at hand was much more pressing than the revelation that his nephew was seeing someone. He’d have to play the father figure role after tonight's mission was complete.

It’s when the deepest shade of midnight blue begins to fade into faint purple hues that Aaron is able to bring up the conversation once again. He tries to make it light, but over the years, his smooth talk has become just as rustic as his Prowler skills. “I’m gon’ have to bring the safe out again if I keep seein’ that phone, Miles.”

The echo of the younger sucking his teeth in annoyance doesn’t fly past Aaron’s head. It’s the response he expected from his nephew. He turns around from his work desk to face the younger, leaning against one of the many concrete pillars that keep the building intact.

“I’m serious, boy,” Aaron asserts, “you been on that phone a lil’ too much lately, man. I’on like it.”

Miles scratches the side of his face; he knows he doesn’t have much of a good excuse to use as to why his eyes have been more on his phone as of late. Well, not an excuse Aaron would find plausible anyway.

“A’ight, Unc. I’ll chill.”

It’s not the exact response that Aaron expects, but if Miles says that he’ll watch his phone activity, the older believes him. The younger has no reason to lie to him, anyway.

A beat passes before Aaron starts again, crossing to the middle of the room where the large, red punching bag.

“So, is she a good distraction,” he muses with a knowing look, “or do I gotta be worried that she gon’ take your head out the game?”

The younger pauses for a second, braids dancing along his shoulder. Then, a lopsided grin spreads across his lips as his head tilts to the side, his eyes wandering. Aaron knows that kind of look. It’s the look of a boy high on love, and from the way Miles fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck, Aaron can deduct that it’s that good loving, too. The kind of loving that Rio gave Jefferson, and it stole the late brother’s heart. It warms his heart to see his nephew sport a look that someone his age should.

“She’s good.” Miles says. “She’s…real good, Tio. Too good, probably.”

Aaron hums in response, the sound coming from the depths of his throat as he pauses, taking in a breath. “Do she know?”

It’s a hard question to ask; Aaron doesn’t want to blow his nephew’s high, but it’s a necessary one to ask. For the safety of all parties involved.

Miles’ smile falters in the slightest, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his eyes cast downward.

“She know I do shit on the low. Not…all this, though.” And from the tone in Miles’ voice, he, too, knows that it’s better this way.

The older begins to walk towards the stairs to exit the workshop building, gesturing to Miles to follow, “Good.”

Aaron thinks back to when he first remembers the diversion of behavior started. Although it wasn’t and never became aggressive, it started with Miles casually peeking at his phone every now and then, maybe once or twice throughout the whole night the two were set together. He puts two and two together, his head nodding to the conclusion he’d drawn.

“So it’s her you be textin’?” Aaron asks, descending the stairs.

The younger nods, following in tow, “Just lettin’ her know that I’ma be out and can’t answer the phone, shit like that.”

“And when she do call?”

A light, dry chuckle escapes Miles’ lips at the question. “She just be askin’ me shit.”

“Shit like what?” Aaron muses, twisting the knob to the door leading outside, opening it to reveal purple hues slowly fading into peach in the sky. “What color nails for her to get? Password to the Netflix?”

They get to the car, but the silence that takes place during the short time it takes to approach the older’s vehicle answers his own question before Miles does.

“Yeah, actually,” the younger voice, arms folding atop the car roof, leaning against the sleek black metal as he looks at his uncle, “and the color for her peek-a-boo braids; and if it’s okay if she eats my leftover takeout; and if I can hang up her wall art thingy when I come by-”

“-so what you’re saying is, she’s clingy?” The older’s eyebrows furrow in amusement and slight confusion - the way Miles speaks about the isolated experiences has him questioning what kind of girl his nephew was actually dating.

“You know what’s crazy, though, Tio?” The younger poses, pulling the handle to the passenger car door when he hears the click, signifying Aaron unlocking the vehicle finally. “She’s not clingy like that; it’s somethin’ else.”

“You’re losin’ me, kid.” The older chuckles, closing his door once he’s settled inside the driver's seat.

Miles sucks his teeth, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in thought, and Aaron can tell that the younger is trying to find the right words to distinguish what he means.

“I hear guys say that shit like that is annoying,” Miles begins, tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it down from riding up his toned stomach, “but it ain’t like that to me. She asks me all these things; think maybe it’s because she feels safe enough to ask them of me. And if she feel like I got the answers for her, then-”

The younger stops mid-sentence, contemplating how to proceed with his explanation. Yet, Aaron is all ears, listening intently. Quite frankly, it’s the most he’s heard Miles talk about anything in a long time - his rambling reminds him of the old Miles that once was, before the unfortunate.

Then, the younger takes a deep breath, reclines back into his seat, legs spread in the slightest for comfortability, his hands running the length of his thighs, “Ionno, Unc. Makes me feel good, I guess.”

And in that moment, Aaron’s vision blurs for a second. He can’t tell if it’s Miles sitting in the passenger seat, or if it’s his late brother. Perhaps it's the glare of the sun in his eyes…perhaps it’s Aaron actually seeing the soul of Jefferson shine through his son in the early morning sunlight that dances across his melanated skin.

A hum passes through the older’s throat as he starts the car up, the sound of the engine revving through the silence that settled within the car. Aaron clears his throat before speaking again, “I’ma tell you what I told your pops about your moms, kid.”

Miles turns his head from the window to face his uncle, who shifts the car from parked to drive, hand sitting at the top of the steering wheel. 

“If she make you feel good, the kinda good you know you can’t get anywhere else, and if she make you feel like a man; you keep her close.” Aaron hums. His lips tug upwards when the younger gives a subtle nod in return.

“I’m serious now, Miles. Don’t be like yo’ daddy.” Aaron reiterates as he pulls his foot off the brakes, turning the steering wheel and pressing down on the gas to drive out of the parking lot. “Dumbass almost lost ya moms cuz he ain’t wanna listen-”

“A’ight, a’ight, I got you,” the younger replies, “I’on think she goin’ anywhere no way, though.”

“Good.” Aaron affirms. “If she know of the kinda game you in, then she need to know how to work somethin’, too. Make sure she can hold you down properly.”

“I’on know about that, Unc,” Miles replies, “she too much of a good girl for that.”

“Shit, good girls work the best poles, boy. Don’t get the game twisted.”

“Unc, no one says ‘poles’ in reference to guns anymore.” The younger says through a chuckle as the two drive off down the street, the purples in the sky now fading into a pretty golden hue that casts over the city that never sleeps.

Imagine being the first 'Plus Size Barbie' in Barbie Land HC's

───────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────────

𖦹 when you first arrived everyone was so excited, for years there's only been slim/skinny/stereotypical types of barbies but here you are!

𖦹 barbie was so happy to see you, she immediately planned a party and a sleepover.

𖦹 the kens were all amazed, this barbie was so different.

𖦹 one ken was a little bit more of amazed...shh

𖦹 prepare for hours of worship!

𖦹 tailor barbie instantly began creating more and more outfits for you, barbie can't only have one outfit!

𖦹 since plus-size barbie was brand new, she didn't have a ken yet, but don't fret! there were tons of ken immediately offering themselves.

𖦹 when you wore new outfits all the barbies were super happy and loved everything you wore, and so did the kens.

𖦹 barbies loved the idea of a fashion show, show casing all the barbies amazing clothes

𖦹 tailor barbie was also very happy.

𖦹 going to the beach was awesome! kens all loved cheering you on when you play volleyball for the first time, a born natural!

𖦹 every night at a sleepover the barbies would gush about how happy they were and how happy they are to have made more progress in the real-life world.

𖦹 after a party a ken would come up to you, immediately wanting to give himself to you, well you are barbie.

𖦹 yet being the only plus size barbie did take somewhat of a toll on you, but don't worry that was only the beginning

𖦹 being a barbie, size didn't matter. every barbie was beautiful.

───────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────────

✰ TASTE

‘you taste different, my love.’ -miles g. genre: fluff + suggestive

warnings: spanish (not sure if its accurate!), suggestive themes a/n: i forgot to put this in my notes so yall almost lost this one (idc if some of thr coloring is messed up im tired) (i write a lot of bold shit when im tired)

e42 miles was waiting for you to come back for your movie night. you were taking too long so he put on some random housewives show. he wasn't eager for you to get back, nor was he bored. this drama was actually entertaining.

—you came around the corner and leaned over the side of the couch to get a good look at his lightly freckled face. he didn't turn his attention towards you, but he knew you were there. "miless."

"mmm." "can i get a kiss?"

he looked at you with half lidded eyes and a playful smirk going against your cunning smile, "what makes you think you deserve one, ma? you did keep me waitin'."

you pouted. the reason you took so long was because you were preparing your hair for the hell of the night you would be in. it can't stay lookin' good for your man if you don't care for it properly. "this bonnet saves lives, y'know. it saves your life."

"you right. it saves me from seein' yo rabid racoon lookin' ass mornin' hair." "MILES-" "jokes. all jokes, mi princesa.♡"

he pulled you in from your chin into a quick kiss. but you tasted different to him. you tasted sweeter—more sugary. he licked his lips and squinted his eyes at the sight of your lips. "hm. hold on a sec."

he enveloped you into another kiss, but this one was slow and passionate. nothing new, but it did catch you by surprise. he didn't normally go back in for seconds like this so early. but what stunned you was him slipping his tounge into your mouth. making a small noise while doing so.

he felt eager to taste you for a reason that was unknown. it's like he was curious, even though you tasted relatively the same every time he kissed you. every cavern of your mouth was felt by him. he was somewhat ignoring the little noises you made from how rough he was being. then, he bit you softly before pulling away.

"you drank my coke, didn't you?"

still dazed from what happened, you asked him to repeat what he had asked. which he did, only that it sounded more irked than before. coming to your senses, your lips pressed into a fine line as you backed away slowly to which he followed you. "see, i was thirsty and i thought you wouldn't mi-"

“ay dios mio.”

✰ he would put you over his shoulder as you were a sack of potatos while playfully scolding you in spanish to his amusement. he loved teasing you to see your reactions, it was a hobby of his.

✰ he brought you to the couch. flopping you down as he laid on your chest, bringing the blanket up on both of you. this was also one of his hobbies—snuggling with you. his favorite by far. being close to you and feeling your heartbeat gave him comfort.

he booped your nose with his finger, making your face scrunch up. "y'know what this means, right? i get more cuddle time for goin' against me, princesa."

“yes, yes, i know.” “thank you my love. ♡”

© mayeluvsu

Can I request Web slinger and reader smacking his ass and his reaction yk what the spot request said please but with Patrick O'Hara

OMG I CANT BELIEVE SOMEONE ACTUALLY WRITES FOR HIM

you'd startle him so bad LMAOO "Jesus Christ, woman!!"

definitely wants to get back at you after that, so he slaps your ass every chance his gets. But the slaps he lays are brutal, and when you turn to look at him over your shoulder with disbelief written all over your face, he grins lazily, "Why the long face, honey? Y'started it,"

Over the days tho, the slaps get softer, and he makes sure to sooth your pain with one or two squeezes, cooing down at you if you wince or pout at him, "Awh, darlin'. Did I hurt you that much? 'm sorry sweetie,"

all the effort you put into your acting was worth it, because Patrick had finally let his guard down, and now it was your turn to get back at him. And honestly you just wanted an excuse to touch his butt. Sauntering around with those tight jeans of his, spurs clicking as he went. How could a grown man look so slutty while walking?

You caught him at the best moment, too, right as he bent down to grab a beer from the fridge, and you bit your lip as you watched the material of his jeans hug his form perfectly. This time you were quick with it. Slap, squeeze, and bolt. Only you didn't run, you couldn't help but stay and gawk at his ass a while longer.

"Christ, this again? Thought we settled this,"

"I'm not starting anything baby, you just looked really good. Swear on my life." lie, lie, lie

"Mhm, I know better than that you lil' minx. Y'done feeling me up?"

"Nope,"

Snuggle Bug

Characters: 1610!Miles Morales x Black!Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Miles is such a snuggle bug.

Warnings: none :)

“How long has it been since you've seen the sun?” You jokingly asked Miles. Rather than his desk being filled with pens and sketchbooks, textbooks and pencils replaced them.

You watched in amusement as he lets out a scream, clearly not expecting you. “How did you get in here?”

“Well when two people love each other very much-” You were interrupted with a pillow thrown at you. “Okay, okay, no need to be so aggressive.” You looked over at his desk, “What test?”

“Uh Trig,” he responded.

You give out a wince to it. You never liked Trig or math in general. Plus the teacher was a hag with a terrible wig.

“Maybe you should take a break. Take a nap with me,” you suggest to him slyly.

“As much as I would love that, I have to study for this test next week,” he tells you. “But afterwards, I promise.”

You fix him a look and rolled your eyes, “Okay fine. In the meanwhile, can I look at my pictures?”

“Fine,” he huffed out and went back to studying.

Smiling with joy, you went to Miles’ sketchbook collection and looked for the one with your name on it. He had a whole book dedicated to you in multiple styles and mediums.

Some were realism while other cartoonish. Sometimes he used nothing but graphite pencils and the white of the page while other times he used markers, colored pencils and pens all in one drawing.

You could get lost in the pages, feel giddy every time you saw a new drawing of you. It made you feel loved.

“Okay, I’m done.” Miles announces and stretches his body causing bones to crack and pop.

“Wow, who knew you were such an old man,” you muttered under your breath, eyes still in the book.

Suddenly you felt a large weight on your back, trapping you in the bed. It could only be one person.

Miles snuggled into the nook of your neck and you hear a muffled no. Then soft snores reach your ear and you let out a sigh as you subsumed to your fate as a human bed.

You light jabbed Miles with your elbow because if he's going to use you like this, the absolute least he could do is help you get your bonnet. This hair wasn't cheap.

“Okay, okay I’m gonna get it,” he said groggily and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He extended his arm and you grabbed it immediately.

“Don’t you dare use your web shooters to get my bonnet,” you warned him. The last time he did that, you literally had to throw the whole bonnet away. It was your favorite too.

He grumbled but got up to get it anyway. He gave you a warm smile before fitting the bonnet around your head gently and kissed you on the cheek.

He laid on his bed with a deep sigh but he looked at you with bedroom eyes, half-lid and a lazy smile. And you just sit there, on the bed admiring him. It was amazing how he could do so little and still look so beautiful.

“You gonna join me down here or…?” He questioned but didn't wait for an answer. He pulled you into his arms and returned his face into the nook of your neck. Eventually, your legs tangled and twisted together into one, and with your combined body heat you quickly went to sleep.

Tags: @butterfi, @justbeethings, @jam-skullz, @dreamxcollide, @shibble, @sleepdeprivationis4coolkids, @somber-starz, @maypersonne, @hoeboat101, @rosebunny, @midnight-the-shadow-wolf, @mur-docs, @eight-cats-in-a-box, @sawi-06, @707xn, @nagi3seastorm, @ghostsimp000, @cloudstrifefantatic, @vixqn, @yourtsahik, @spider-bren, @im-jisoo-im-okay, @andhdi68a, @avatarl0v3r, @randomhoex, @ellatienesuscosas, @m4rihrts, @jell0buss-37, @baddiebehaviourxx, @laylasbunbunny, @minimari415, @all444miles, @sheluvv-jen

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Oh I have a Drabble idea if that’s ok! What about hobie with reader who really laughs for the first time? Like she’s a pretty easy person to make laugh and has a good sense of humor but something just gETS her and he sees her laugh to the point of tears for the first time. I feel like that’d be cute. Also it can be GN if you prefer!

Hi hun! Thank you for requesting ❤️ your prompt was so cute, hope you like it!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, established relationship, food mention, FLUFF.

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Your hands are sticky and smelling of citrus, breaking off another piece of orange and placing it onto Gwen's waiting hand, she hums a thankful tune, her head slumped on your shoulder, still feeling the after effects of her latest mission.

Hobie's sitting in front of you, legs casually draped over your lap, his shoes grazing your suit, but you don't mind, as long as he's recuperating. A cold compress placed on his eyes, blocking out the harsh lights of the cafeteria.

You tap the table, getting his attention. He pulls the edge of the cold compress, peeking at you. Hobie raises a pierced brow.

You raise a piece of orange, ready to throw at his mouth, he understands completely, mouth open, trying to angle it better.

You toss it, the orange slice flips in the air, landing directly in Hobie's mouth.

He pumps his fist in the air, while Gwen tiredly claps. You giggle at Hobie's reaction, rubbing a soothing hand over the tensed muscles in his leg.

"You want another one?" You crane your neck towards Gwen, her brows knitting together when Hobie jokingly opens his mouth full of chewed orange, showing it to her.

"Disgusting!" She tosses an orange skin at him, bonking him directly on his forehead.

Hobie chuckles, satisfied with her reaction. But he isn't satisfied with yours, Hobie watches as you laugh softly, the orange in your hands bounces slightly in your grip. He's determined to make you laugh louder, imagining how adorable the sound could be.

"Hey guys!" Miles greets you three, he's accompanied by Pavitr, they saunter towards your table, Pavitr's clutching at the shell of his ear.

"What?!" Pavitr asks loudly. Miles jumps away slightly.

"What's up with him?" Gwen gestures towards Pavitr, he looks at everyone with an apologetic face.

"You alright there, big man?" Hobie asks.

"There was a massive blast on our last mission, it blew out his eardrums" Miles explains, while the boy next to him looks at him questioningly, clearly not hearing anything he's saying.

"Did you guys go to the medbay? Get it checked out?" You stand up, handing Pavitr an orange slice.

"We went to the med bay, spider-doctor said he'll be fine in a few hours" Miles takes your seat next to Gwen. You nod while you're trying to hand Pavitr an orange, but he's too occupied at tugging his ear.

"Can I interest you in an orange, in these trying times?" You joke, but it flies over Pavitr's head (ears?)

"What?!" He asks loudly.

"Do you want an orange?!" You yell out, making other spider people look at you weirdly. "Sorry!" You wave at them.

"I'm sorry! I can't hear you! My ears are ringing!"

"You should answer it then," Hobie jokes nonchalantly.

You laugh loudly a second later, turning everyone's attention to you, clutching your stomach as happy tears prick your eyes.

Everyone gets startled by your loud guffaw, Gwen and Miles laugh, your chortle making theirs louder. They're not laughing at you though, they're clearly laughing with you. Gwen slaps Miles shoulders, Hobie didn't foresee how his little joke got everyone cackling hard.

You keel over, knees giving out. Hobie was too occupied at basking in your laughter, he didn't notice you sitting on the floor, gasping for breath.

He quickly jumps up, grabbing your forehead, shielding it from the dirty floors of the cafeteria. Hobie notices that everyone in the room is in stitches, guess your laughter was contagious.

As much as he loves the sound of your happiness, you need to stop for air, or else you might actually faint from too much laughter.

Hobie crouches down, cupping your jaw. He chuckles at your tear stained cheeks, your nose flaring up, skin, hot from laughing too hard. Happiness suits you, he thinks.

Hobie rubs your cheeks with his thumb, his other hand massaging your back, trying to calm you down. "Breathe, you gotta inhale, lovey"

Inhaling deeply, your laughter subsides slowly, but little chuckles still leave your lips. You place your head on his chest with a thud, embarrassed.

"Oh god, I needed that" you hold onto his neck for support, hearing the roaring laughter slowly die down "that was so embarrassing though" you look up at him, Hobie's staring directly into your eyes, lopsided grin on his lips.

"Nah, you're good" Hobie pats the top of your head, leaving a quick peck on it, heat rises back in your cheeks, but for a different reason this time.

You bat your eyelashes "Thanks Hobie" giving him your best smile.

He helps you back on your feet, caressing your arm fondly. Your friends make gagging noises, showing their displeasure at your public display of affection.

"What's so funny?" Pavitr asks, feeling left out.

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