Blue-sky336 - Blue

Flirtatious! Hobie Brown who can't help but lean in close to your ear and whisper the sweetest of compliments just to witness the blush on your face.

Flirtatious! Hobie who knows just how much you love it when he calls you by pet names and will use it to his advantage. "You got a sec, sweet pea?"

Flirtatious! Hobie who enjoys the way you throw back the best comebacks to his pickup lines

Flirtatious! Hobie who shamelessly flirts with you as Spider-Punk to the point where news articles are written about spider-punks mystery s/o.

Flirtatious! Hobie who loves the feeling of your breath against his ear when you whisper back how stupid that pick up line was.

But most of all, Flirtatious! Hobie who can't help but smile every time he sees your blush because he knows he's the one who caused it <3

Sure, Next Time.

Summary: Hobie only comes to you after trouble Characters/Pairing: Hobie x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: Blood, injuries, dislocated finger, hurt/comfort A/N: Pls bear with me as I attempt his accent lmao

It didn't necessarily surprise you when Hobie accidentally let it slip that he was Spider-Punk. You could recognize the sticker abused guitar and stressed leather jacket anywhere. What did surprise you was the number of injuries he sustained and how easily he could hide them from you. If he had a limp his excuse was, "Tripped in my boots, luv." Any other injuries he used the excuse of having started a fight with some capitalist douchebag. And you believed it. It was only until he came back for you to patch him up after every battle that you began to truly let your anxiety feed into it.

Hobie had climbed through your window at 2am. The sun was nowhere to be seen, and the moon was shrouded in clouds. You had become a light sleeper as of late, the rise in crime getting on your nerves and preventing that precious rest you craved.

You woke up at the sound of those familiar heavy boots against your tiled floor. Squinting, you recognized the familiar shadow of a certain spider-man, or at least the shadow of the spikes on his head. "Hobie?" You reached to turn on your bedside lamp. Tired eyes squinted as the warm light enveloped the room. Your voice was scratchy from having been woken up at an ungodly hour. Your hair was all over the place, strands in front of your eyes and sticking out in ways that you didn't know it could. You thought this was a dream with how Hobie had frozen like a deer in headlights at the end of your bed.

Hobie thought he could just slip in and out, weaving his way to your bathroom and taking a couple of bandages for his trip home. He was wrong and now look at him. He had barely made it to your house in one place and there was no doubt that he was not making it back to his own. All his weight was on his left leg, he was using a web connected to your roof as leverage to keep him upright. You could see a dark stain seeping through his mask just above where you assumed his left eyebrow to be. You suspected there to be more than what you could see through his mask but would have to wait until you finally got him to the bathroom sink to find out.

The corners of his lips turned up as he watched you struggle to untangle your legs from the bedsheets. "Need some help, luv?" A shit eating grin adorned his face, but you couldn't see it. Even when he was injured, he still managed to make your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm just fine." You huffed, finally finding the floor against your feet and taking steady steps towards the injured man. You didn't see him using your roof as leverage and silently cursed yourself for taking so long. "You better not pull out my roof with that web. Otherwise, you'll be the one dealing with my landlord." You huffed only half-joking. Humour seemed to be your coping mechanism. "Don't get all funny on me now, luv." He chuckled, sounding worn out and in pain. You helped him through your mediocre apartment, having draped his arm over your shoulders and letting him rest his weight against you as you walked (stumbled) to the bathroom.

With a slight huff through your nose and grunt that you wished was silent, Hobie was now sitting on your toilet, the lid shut. He was too tall when he sat on the sink (you found that out the first time he came over) and well, you didn't have much room up there to begin with. You crouched to the cupboard below your sink. In a Spider-Punk themed box (made by you to tease Hobie) was a consistent supply of bandages, disinfectant wipes, alcohol wipes, splints, etc. There was everything you could think of that someone would need when injured. You made this box not long after the first time Hobie came back with blood dripping from his forehead, and you didn't have anything to help. That night was filled with gentle apologies and worried glances.

"Can you take the mask off, Hobes?" You mumbled, having pulled the box onto the sink. You turned to watch him, tired eyes noticing just how he flinched when he moved his arms to push the mask over his head and tossing it to the floor. His hands were trembling, one of his fingers looking to be the slightest bit out of place. The cut above his eyebrow was bleeding profusely and it looked as if part of his piercing had been pulled on.

"'s not as bad as it looks." His hands gently moved to rest on your hips, eyes glancing towards the worried look on your face before moving to the roof. "Not as bad as it looks. Baby, you've probably got a concussion... No, you've definitely got a concussion." You mumbled, hands already digging into that spider-punk themed medicine box. You managed to pull out some baby wipes and a few alcohol wipes. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, heart thumping in your ears. Your hands came up to caress his face, taking a baby wipe to gently wipe the blood dripping down his face. There was a visible wince and a hiss of pain that came from the touch. Hobie's long fingers gripped the fabric of your pyjamas.

"I'm sorry, Hobie..." you muttered, trying to be as gentle and careful as possible. Once the cut was cleaned and a bandage was placed over it, it was time to move to his finger. "I'm even more sorry about this. We're gonna need to put it back in place, okay?" You were kind of glad you took that health course in high school now.

Hobie let out a groan, too tired to respond with words, but it was clear he was not looking forward to it. His hands released their grip on your hips and instead were placed in your palms. "Okay, we're gonna count to three and I'll put it back in. That good, baby?" You asked.

The suspense was killing Hobie, he was already in pain as it was. He's had dislocated digits before, so he understood the importance of getting the limb back in its socket as soon as possible, but that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it. He nodded. "Yeah, okay." He hummed in response. Except you didn't even count. You waited until he spoke up and quickly pushed the digit back into its socket, earning a muffled (still loud) groan of indescribable pain. "I'm sorry! Fuck, I'm sorry. It's over now." You apologized, wrapping his swollen wrist in a compression bandage. The tears brimming in his eyes and the sick pop of his finger had you feeling queasy. You felt your stomach flip and not in the usual happy way it did when Hobie was around. However, you pushed the feeling aside, hands resting on his cheeks as you leaned in to press a small kiss just to the left of his bandage.

"Let's get you to bed..."

After finally fixing up his injuries the two of you had found yourselves lying in bed. Hobie was next to you, one arm drapes over your stomach, the other resting under his head. His lips brushed against your cheek.

"I worry about you. About what you're doing." You spoke quietly, glancing back into his eyes for a moment. "I know it's for the greater good, but seeing you come home in the middle of the night half dead every day is- It's not nice." You rambled quietly before finally going silent.

He huffed through his nose, although it wasn't angry. "I know, luv. Gonna give you a heart attack one day." he joked, pressing his lips to your temple. "I love you." The words came out quiet, barely leaving his lips before you turned to face him.

"I love you too, Hobes. But next time you get a dislocated finger just go to a doctor. I literally felt sick from that." You mentioned, earning a small nod and a deep chuckle.

"Sure... next time." He mumbled in response, closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around you securely. There was no need to worry about the outside world as long as you were in his arms.

Baby Fever

Summary: Hobie calls you over while babysitting Mayday. Characters: Hobie x GN!Reader, Mayday Word Count: 434 Warnings: fluff A/N: n/a

"You're getting pretty soft there, Hobes." You flashed a gentle, loving smile as you watched his long arms drape over Mayday.

"Nah, I'm not bruv." He huffed through his nostrils, his face just teetering on the edge of a smile as he looked down at the toddler. There was something about that little girl, 'Spiderling' as most of HQ called her, that literally had his heart melting. Despite how tough his exterior was he didn't think he'd ever be one to deny babysiting Mayday.

"I don't know, babes. I think I can see you melting right there." You teased, hand coming to gently run over the sleeping toddlers head. "Isn't she just the cutest?" You whispered, leaning in to press a small kiss on his cheek.

"She's just a rebel in training. Gonna be the best anarchist, ain't ya?" He hummed, looking down at her with that gentle smile of his.

Origin || Part 1

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3?

Morning light crept through the circular window that led to your empty balcony. Still struggling to get used to the drastic time difference, you covered your face with the duvet, sinking in the warmth that your bed offered. It wasn't until your alarm went off that you finally pried yourself from the comfortable mattress. 

The heat of the morning sunlight kept your joints warm as you began to get ready, undressing from your pyjamas only to pull on some comfier but more respectable clothes. Your outfits usually consisted of some shorts and a baggy t-shirt, but on this day, you settled for some jeans and a sweater. You had recognised easily that Paris would most likely never be as warm as your home country, so the outfit was deemed wearable, while a comfy shirt was still placed inside of your bag as a backup. It rested in the front pocket of your school bag alongside your pain medication, which you were probably due to take soon, and the few other hygiene accessories that you wouldn't dare to leave the house without unless it was a true emergency. 

"Hurry up or you will be late!" A stern, yet loving voice called. A smile that was beginning to turn down evident on your face as you finally made your way down the stairs. It took some energy, but you felt good.

Today would be good.

"Sorry, dad." You shrugged slightly, "I'm going to walk to walk to school today. I'll be extra careful, I promise." You smile and take an apple from the bowl resting on the kitchen bench, gently punching the older man's shoulder before walking towards the door, bag on your back. You noticed the way he frowned, going to speak but not saying anything. It wasn't unusual for him to be so quiet; you'd grown accustomed to it after quite some time of living with him. Your father was silenced by his own worry and concern for you. He waved as you stepped out of the front door, yet you never noticed it.

Taking your first steps out of the house, you couldn't help but breathe in the somewhat fresh air that the streets of Paris gifted you with. While it wasn't something you were used to, the scent of a sweet pastry was certainly something you enjoyed. Living close by to a two-story bakery was certainly going to burn a hole in your pocket, but who could deny themself a sweet little treat every once in a while? 

Taking enough time to distract yourself with your thoughts, you finally made it to the street across from your school. It wasn't too often anymore where you found yourself not distracted by your own thoughts. Toady was no different than any other, until you heard a small commotion just in front of you. The traffic was bustling along. The sounds of honking and tires screeching pulling your attention to the situation. An old man was struggling to cross the road, overwhelmed by the amount of people honking at him despite how it could be seen as a reasonable reaction to any bystander. Without thinking your legs began to move, pulling you towards the situation with no hesitation. "Sir!" you called out, glancing across the road to make sure no cars were coming in your direction in the moment. When you had a free chance, you bolted towards the older man, placing your hand on his back and quickly pulling him out of the way of any oncoming traffic. Of course, that wasn't the end of it as you crouched down the slightest bit to reach his slouched height. He was shaking, although appreciative as he clasped your cold hands in his warm ones. 

"Thank you so much, young one," The man spoke, bowing his head over and over again in gratitude. Gently taking your hands away from his and softly placing them on his shoulders, you shook your head. "No, don't thank me. I was doing what any humane person would, sir." Your words of pure genuine and empathetic smile seemed to strike a chord with the man. 

"You are a wonderful being," He hummed, flashing a small smile before simply turning, "I hope one day we will meet again in less dire circumstances." You stood dumbfounded as the man began to walk away. How could he act so calm after seeming so overwhelmed by such a drastic scene. He could have been hit by a car and yet here he was walking away from you, the only thing left in his place being a black box with intricate gold carvings. You leant down and picked up the box, it was small, much like a box holding a piece of jewellery. You figured it might be important to the man, however before you could finally call out to him, he was gone. Once again he had left you staring after him dumbfounded. After examining the box in your hands, you decided to place it within the front pocket of your bag in hopes that you might see the man again just as he said.  

With that interaction playing over in the back of your mind, you quickly walked up the steps of the school. Although you transferred to College Françoise Dupont due to the advertised accessibility and financial support that it provided students with disabilities alongside chronic illnesses, you were beginning to notice just how many stairs were truly in this place. You frowned. 

No one necessarily paid much attention to you, even as you struggled to climb the multiple levels of stairs within the large foyer. After climbing up the front steps, you groaned at the thought of climbing up the second set of large stairs that led to the upper level of the school. While it wasn't as long, it was steep, and after your almost run in with oncoming traffic, you were already feeling rather exhausted. You figured it was just a horrid perk of your own chronic illness.

At the age of thirteen you faced symptoms of constant exhaustion, shakiness and burning pain within your joints. After an incident when moving houses, the pain began to focus more within your knees and lower back, a mishap from carrying a box that was too heavy for your young stature. There was no true name for what occurred to you, doctors were confused or chose not to believe you and many close people began to pity you. At first you enjoyed the attention, but now you were happy to simply be left alone.

Now at the ripe age of seventeen you could hardly pull yourself from bed without dousing yourself in icy-hot and Panadol. You always managed, trying your best to come across as a normal teenager, no matter how sore or exhausted you truly were. You began to think of it as your own little secret, wanting to hide it from your new classmates to lessen the pity you faced.

When you finally reached the top of the stairs, you sighed in relief. Both glad that it was finally over, and happy that you remembered your knee brace you closed your eyes momentarily, not expecting a certain bluenette to run straight into you on her way to class.

You landed on your butt, wincing quietly at the harsh landing. You peeled your eyes opened to see a girl who looked around your age, frantic as she crouched next to you.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so so so sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going and—" her words were rushed and the flush on her face made you feel almost sorry for the girl. Gently pushing her outstretched palm away, you shook your head. "Don't sweat it. You're good." You smiled sweetly, taking a moment to collect your bag before getting back up on your feet.

The poor girl looked guilty, taking in your appearance to make sure she hadn't caused too much damage, which it was lucky that she didn't. You cringed slightly as you leaned on your left leg, swapping weight between your legs every so often to balance out the sharp sting in them. She seemed to notice, but didn't mention it.

"You're new here, right? I don't think I've ever seen you before. Do you have your timetable?" She asked, her eyes widening momentarily behind her blue bangs. "I completely forgot to introduce myself— I'm Marinette, what's your name?" Marinette asked, sheepishly pulling her hand back and rubbing her arm when she realized you weren't going to shake her hand.

You laughed and mentioned your name with that gentle smile of yours. Pulling out your phone, you logged into your electronic timetable. "I'm in P7?" You spoke, "Do you think you could show me around a bit?"

You swore her smile grew twice it's size as she linked her arm with yours. "That's my class actually! I'll take you there, I'm sure Alya wouldn't mind swapping seats if you'd like to sit next to me?" Her offer was sweet, but you already had an assigned seat. It was simply due to the amount of distinguishable akuma attacks. It was hard for you to run, so the teachers and your parents deemed it safer for you to sit in the front left of the classroom in case there was ever a need to escape.

"No, it's okay. I already know my seat." You smiled, using your linked arms as a way to steady yourself as you both walked towards your classroom. Unlike your hometown, they shared the same classroom for each of their respective classes, with the teachers moving to them instead of the students. It made things much easier for you and was also one of the high selling points for your enrolment.

You swore you saw Marinette's smile grow dim at your words before lighting back up as if nothing happened. She shrugged it off and led you to the classroom, often smiling at any friends she passed. It was clear to you that she was an outgoing and kid young woman, one that you would be grateful to call your friend if you could get to that point, but for now she would be your acquaintance and school guide.

You spoke the whole time you walked to class, learning that Marinette's parents were the owners of that bakery you could smell on the way to school and that she was an aspiring fashion designer. You also learnt that if her head wasn't stuck to her shoulders, she would have easily lost it by now.

"So, what about you? What's so good about Paris that you moved here?" The girl asked, her blue bell eyes looking at you with a curious spark. You simply shrugged in response and flashed a nonchalant smile. "My parents have better jobs here than in our home country, and this school gives me better opportunities." You explained, although it wasn't entirely true it was still close enough to the truth that you didn't feel bad about your little white lies.

Marinette nodded at your words and opened the door for you. The class was practically full already. It surprise you how many teenagers were actually eager to come to school. It certainly wasn't like this at home.

The teacher, who you'd met with much earlier when you were discussing going to the school with your parents, offered a sweet smile and gestured to your designated seat. You regretted walking in, multiple eyes staring you down. You were fresh meat after all.

Exhaling, you walked to your seat at the front, a blonde boy with emerald eyes sat just next to you. He seemed somewhat disappointed to see you, as if someone else had previously sat here. He shook his head and flashed a friendly smile.

"Hi."

You registered the word rather slowly, a little distracted by those mysterious eyes. He was hiding something. You didn't bother questioning and returned the smile. "Hi."

His cheeks flushed but he said nothing more as the lesson began, turning his attention to your history and English teacher. Your brows furrowed but you couldn't help the silly smile that forced it's way upon your face. Something about that boy made you feel warm, although you suspected that it was just the friendly introduction that caused it.

~~~

The end of the day came by faster than expected. You'd exchanged numbers with Marinette and her best friend Alya, you had also learnt that the boy sitting next to you was Adrien. It wasn't hard for you to decipher that Marinette had a rather hefty crush on the blonde boy, but you paid no mind to it. It wasn't like you to crush on anyone anyway, so there was nothing to truly worry about.

You walked down the front steps of the school with them, waving goodbye and smiling. "Call us later!" Marinette called out as she waved goodbye, almost running into a poll as she walked backwards. Embarrassed, she quickly turned around, head in her palms as Alya poked fun at her.

"Will do." You spoke, knowing neither would hear you as you laughed quietly to yourself. What an odd pair. You found them endearing, no matter how silly they were.

A soft voice called your name, causing your brows to furrow deeply. "Hi—" you turned around to see the blonde boy speaking to you, "Do you need a ride home?" He asked with a kind smile.

Your eyes widened momentarily and a smile graced your face. "Hi. That would be nice. Are you sure? I've heard your quiet the busy guy." You teased, winking at him playfully. He looked shocked before letting out a small laugh.

Adrien was still getting used to the idea of friends, considering his father was a control freak over where and who he hung out with. "Ha, ha. Very funny." He playfully rolled his eyes, "I'm sure I could clear my schedule for the next ten minutes. Come on." He gestured for you to follow him towards the black limousine that had pulled up at the front of the school.

You couldn't deny such an offer, following along behind him. He opened the door for you, flashing a charming grin that made your heart lurch into your throat. It was your turn to roll your eyes as you stepped into the vehicle, thanking the driver and his bodyguard for taking you home. They didn't speak, but you hoped your gratitude came through to them.

The drive was silent other than Adrien exchanging numbers with you, sheepishly claiming it was in case you ever needed a ride home again. You suspected it was something else, but you never pushed for an answer, politely smiling and putting his name in your phone as 'Adrien 💚'.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Adrien." You smiled as you stepped out of the car, reaching for your bag that was on the floor. He nodded in response and waved, "See you tomorrow."

Adrien sunk into his seat after you left, looking down at his phone with a small smile. Something about you just drew him in, he wasn't sure what it was, but it felt important.

~~~

When the boy arrived at his house, his father nowhere to be seen, he decided to go straight to his room. Although he quite literally lived in a lavish mansion, there wasn't actually much for Adrien to do. So, he pulled his bag off of his shoulders and placed it next to the bed, paying no attention to the feline kwami who was ever so desperately trying to search for cheese in his shallow pocket. Finally falling back into his pocket, once again ignoring the cry of anguish that his kwami let out, Adrien sighed. 

"Plagg..." He started, "Nevermind." 

Plagg looked confused before simply flying off in search of more cheese. 

Adrien reached for his phone within his pocket, unlocking it with the simple press of his thumb and smiling as it opened to the contacts page. Your name stood at the very top under favourites. While your name was plain on his screen, the picture was one that he'd captured of you staring out the window, simple and perfect.

Plagg flew over once again. "Woah, I thought you were in love with Ladybug!" He exclaimed, staring into the blonde's phone to see your picture. Adrien locked his phone almost immediately, his eyes widened. "I am!" He stammered momentarily, "They're just a friend." He hummed, placing his phone screen down on the blanket.

Word count: 2749

Firstly, when you get this, you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)!!/nf

I guessss I'll do it cause you're literally one of my fav moots teehee

1. I like my hair (it's currently half-dyed with vampire kiss)

2. I'm a very good big sister

3. I'm trying to be healthier and I like that!!

4. I lock in with my studying 🙏

5. I'm actually smart and as much as I hate admitting it, I am good at what I do.

Unresolved Feelings

Summary: Hobie has been nothing but nice to you, sadly, you can't return the favour Characters/Pairings: Hobie x GN!Reader, minor Gwen x GN!Reader Word Count: 800 Warnings: mention of canon events, death, panic attack, emotional distress, angst

"I can't even look at him Gwen." Your words came out trembling, eyes watering. "I can't look at him or talk to him. I-.. I can't go on another mission with him. I almost got us killed!" Your rambling was never-ending. The look in your eyes sent chills down the young woman's spine. It was something she recognised herself, however not on your face. Dark bags covered your cheeks, pupils small and hair a mess. Your clothes were the same that you wore yesterday, meaning you probably slept in them.

"It's okay. We can talk to Miguel.. He'll understand." She said your name so softly, hands coming to rest upon your shaking shoulders. A hiccup slipped past your swollen lips and you almost started crying again. "I'm sure we can fix this." Gwen offered a sympathetic smile, thumbs wiping away any stray tears that dared to fall down your soft cheeks. "Come on, let's get you in some clean clothes and brush your hair. Then we can go talk to him, okay?" Her words were so sincere and comforting that you couldn't help but be embarrassed about your sudden emotional outbursts.

You nodded.

While getting ready, with Gwen pulling some clothes out for you to put on and helping you brush back your hair, you were completely lost in your thoughts. Hobie came to mind and the memories followed.

Hobie was your canon event. In your universe you worked as a variation of spider-man. Hobie was your best friend, your ride or die, the person you promised to look after no matter what; and you failed him. In a moment of quick thinking where you could have prevented his death, you faltered and instead, he ended up 6ft underground. The memories left a cool shudder running down your spine. Goosebumps formed across your arms and the hair at the back of your neck stood at attention.

"He won't understand, Gwen. This is useless." You spoke quietly, rubbing your face as if that was going to get rid of your eye bags. "This isn't going- you know what Miguel is like! If anything this will make it worse." You huffed through your nostrils.

Gwen just shook her head an rolled her eyes. "You're a pessimist." She sighed softly, squeezing your hand ever so gently. "I promise it will be fine."

Of course, by the time you had made it to Miguel's 'office' you were feeling a little bit better. Gwen had reassured you that Miguel might listen, and you wouldn't have to see Hobie again. Part of that pained you. In fact, part of you longed to crawl right back into his arms as if nothing had ever happened. The thought of simply inserting yourself back into his life flashed through your mind, following by the look on his face as he fell. You couldn't put him through that again..

The conversation went... okay. As okay as it could go. You were now free from any interactions with Hobie Brown. You felt so conflicted. Gwen understood your pain. Seeing such a close friend die and then to be confronted with that same person, but not your own version is traumatizing. The amount of unresolved trauma that comes back is overwhelming; no wonder you were getting no sleep.

On the way back to the lobby you were confronted with this unresolved feeling. The same punk rocker that you had been actively avoiding was marching his way towards you, a slight frown on his hollowed face. Your heart was racing, your head almost spinning. He stood in front of you and yet you couldn't move. Your feet were frozen, eyes staring into the deep brown of his own. You felt like crying again, but nothing came out.

"You've been avoiding me."

His words didn't come out as harsh or controlling, but rather concerned.

"Get out of my way."

"That doesn't change the fact that you've been avoiding me." Hobie said your name in the same way that your version did. Your shoulders shook slightly, head hung lowly.

"It doesn't fucking matter- okay? You didn't do anything! So get out of my way, Hobie!" Your words were harsh. Your tone was conflicting against your thoughts. No matter how much you wanted to run into those familiar lanky arms or playfully flick his chin, you couldn't, because this man wasn't your Hobie. The Hobie in front of you was a stranger. One that you only had superficial feelings too, and one that you could never be nice to.

The pained look he gave you made your heart ache within your chest. He didn't say anything and just stood to the side, taking a step out of your way. Your mouth moved but no words came out. Instead, you forced your feet to move before you did anything that could have been even more stupid than your outburst. You left him standing there with your head now held high in an attempt to seem strong.

Hobie could see through your act. You couldn't fool him.

Summary: Peter can't stand that little black dress Characters/Pairing: Peter x Fem!Reader Word Count: 470 Warnings: 18+ mdni!! female anatomy mentioned a couple of times, smut, MJ and Peter have split up A/N: Idk if anyone else needs him, but i need him

You had been Mayday's babysitter for a year now. In this year Mayday had become quite close to you.

Unknowing to you, so had Peter B Parker.

Lingering glances and touches sent your way only became obvious at the Christmas party Peter invited you to (one that MJ was holding). You weren't the babysitter that night as they had hired a second person to do your job.

You thought it was weird, but oh well, you got paid enough for what you did anyway.

Your outfit consisted of a black shimmering dress, slimming and extenuating in all the right places. You wanted to make a good impression, especially since you were just a babysitter to everyone there

you noticed just how long Peter's hand seemed to linger against your hip when other people were around

The way his fingers dug into your flesh, sending shivers down your spine in the most pleasurable way

In a way that left you wanting more

The whisper and touch of his soft breath against your neck had your knees weak, buckling under the pressure of his presence

His hands grip your thighs as he pushes you against the kitchen counter, hiding from the curious eyes of the party

"Stay quiet.. don't want them to know about our fun, do you?"

His words have you shuddering again, head rolling back against his shoulder as soft lips press against your pulse

You feel the slight drag of teeth and whimper

Peter is enjoying each little whine and squirm he's gifted with. Unbeknownst to you, he's been eyeing you all night long, desperate to gain your attention so he can whisk you away from the sight of people who claim to be so close to him

He drags you up the stairs, exchanging dirty words over hushed whispers

"Can't wait to feel you wrapped around me, baby.."

He has you pinned against a wall before you know it, hands exploring the supple skin underneath your clothes

Peter seems to seamlessly peel your panties off from under the dress, leaving you somewhat exposed as the black fabric scrunches at your hips

His fingers leave bruises in your hips that last for days. The red handprint on your ass didn't seem to disappear for a while either

Your moans and whimpers are music to his ears. It's hard to stay quiet when he's so adamant on lapping at your pretty cunt until his mouth is covered in your slick.

He has you in every position imaginable.

On your knees, fucking your face like there is no tomorrow, legs spread on the bed while your hands fist the sheets. Knees thrown over his shoulders as his tongue flicks against your clit.

All he wants is to please you...

And he does just that.

Your knees are sore the next morning and knuckles are still somewhat white from how hard you clenched the sheets

Your dress seems to be ruined, and you can't seem to find your panties anywhere

Peter greets you with coffee and a smile as if nothing happened, but you take note of that longing look in his eyes that shows he wants more than just one night.

Summary: Miles is grieving and you're the best distraction Characters/Pairing: e42!Miles x fem!reader Word Count: 492 Warnings: use of mami, minor mention of grief, un-edited A/N: None

You'd think with the constant fear and adrenaline rushing through your blood that time might just grace you by moving the slightest bit faster. Yet here you were, clutching your bag tightly as you speed walked through dangerous streets to your boyfriend's house. It was closer than your own and you didn't exactly feel like getting anyone's unsolved illegal business.

'u home yet, mami?'

The text sent shivers down your spine. Miles may have been a dry texter, but that didn't mean you weren't excited to see him, especially with the drama that occurred at work. The sweetest of smiles came to your face as your feet moved even faster.

'just around the corner <3'

Your hands fumbled with the door, using your cut of keys to open it. Once stepping inside you shut the door behind you and made sure to lock it, stuffing the keys back into your bag. You kicked your shoes off and made your way upstairs.

"Miles! I'm back!" You called out, the silence almost unnerving. It wasn't until you heard that familiar base line of a song that your shoulders relaxed. You walked up behind the chair your boyfriend sat on. Your bag was now next to the door, half fallen on the floor. Draping your arms over his chest you leaned in to kiss his cheek. He grew tense for a moment before lifting his headphones off his head and looking up at you.

"Don't sneak up like that." He huffed through his nostrils.

"It's okay, baby." You smiled, pressing your lips to his other cheek, "You know it's just me."

He shook his head. His paranoia would get the better of him some days and you knew that. On days where it was worse, you often found yourself situated in his lap, pressing kisses against his face. Even if Miles wouldn't admit it, he had always enjoyed the feeling of your arms around him. The comfort that came with it.. it was to die for.

"You good, baby? You're quieter than usual." You asked, brows furrowing. "That a new design?" You peaked over his shoulder, glancing at his most recent drawing. Miles instinctively covered it with a blank piece of paper. You were confused, but didn't question.

"Yeah, mami. I'm fine. C'mere." He hummed, spinning the chair once you had taken a small step back. He patted his knee once and within a few seconds you were pulled into his lap. He rested his head in the crook of your neck.

"I just need you." He whispered against your ear. He sounded so sad. It left your heart aching. You understood the weight of his father's death had been pulling him down recently, and some days he couldn't find the words to speak about it.

"You don't need to talk to me. But I'll be here when you're ready.." you whispered to him, kissing his temple.

Sometimes the silence was just what he needed.

Heartthrob to Heartbreaker

Hobie Brown x Civilian!F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, slight angst, established relationship, hidden identity, slight stalking, pinning to bed, neck kisses

Summary: Hobie and you have been dating for 10 months but you haven’t met his second identity, and so when he begins to follow you around, and gift you flowers as Spider-Punk, you can’t help but be creeped out. At one point he gets a bit too close, forgetting that, to you, he was a stranger, causing you to panic when a media article paints you two as a couple… you worry what Hobie thinks

A/n: Inspired this work by @tenaciousduckpoetry. Specifically her idea of:

“Flirtatious! Hobie who shamelessly flirts with you as Spider-Punk to the point where news articles are written about spider-punks mystery s/o”.

Enjoy meine Lieben!

You and Hobie had been dating for roughly 10 months, although he didn’t like labels he found his ways of making it clear that he still saw you as his girlfriend, and loved being your boyfriend. You’d spend most nights at his place, cuddled up in his arms while watching a movie, or lying on his lap reading a book while he played his guitar.

You loved spending all the time you could with your boyfriend, preferring to be in his home over anywhere else. Especially since recently you’ve been catching the attention of your city’s spider-punk. He’d often ‘bump into you’ during his missions, accidentally pay for your daily coffee before you even get to the cafe, you’d even catch him watching you through your windows when you were at work.

You tense when you hear a soft tap on your window, seeing as you were on the 10th story you knew exactly who it was. You turn your head and see a familiar face, hanging in a spiderweb hammock, with his head in his hands and looking at you.

You stand up and sigh, walking to the window and looking at him unimpressed. He just gives you an exaggerated wink and watches you, the soft roundness of the eyes of his mask, and the way they look into your own coming across as affectionate. As if he was looking at you in adoration.

You reach for the chain of the blind, closing it on his face. You can hear a soft huff from behind the glass, watching his shadow disappear from behind the blind. You smile and go to sit back down at your desk, hoping to get back to work.

Throughout the rest of the day you spot the spikes of his mask poking over windowsills, or can see remnants of his webs on the pillars outside the building. You try to ignore all of it and just focus on your work, seeing as it was an important project due in a few days.

When you finally leave the office the receptionist stops you, calling you over. “Mrs! Before you head out, someone dropped these off” you give her a look of confusion but she then holds up a bouquet of flowers, a variety of wildflowers, not one of them looking identical to another.

You couldn’t help but immediately think of Hobie, knowing he’d give you something so inconsistent. You give her a smile and grab the bouquet, admiring it. She then adds “The rather tall gentlemen looked quite similar to our spider-punk” she winks at you and you blush, your smile dropping at the reveal that it wasn’t from Hobie.

“O-oh?” You say and she just nods. You press your lips into a fine line, but then smile at her before leaving. “Thank you Julie” she smiles and then has you chuckling softly as she adds “Of course, more than happy to deliver your secret admirer’s gifts”

You walk out of the building, looking around. So sure you would see him on the walls of the building, or hanging off a street lamp. But he wasn’t there, you let out a sigh of relief and begin to walk to Hobie’s place.

You relaxed the more time that passed without seeing Spider-Punk. On the way home you pass by a restaurant with empty vases on the outdoor tables. You pop your head in and get permission from the owner to put the flowers in the vases.

You spend a few minutes separating the flowers into groups and placing them in the vases. You then let out a sigh, dusting your hands and walking off. You didn’t want to come home with flowers from a stranger, especially when you were going to your boyfriend’s apartment.

When you’re roughly 10 minutes away from Hobie’s place, you hear footsteps behind you, they’re quiet but get closer to you. Just when you turn your head to see who it was, Spider-Punk moves to stand in front of you. The shock of him being so close causes you to step back, pressing your body against the brick wall of a building.

His face is an inch from yours, causing you to blush a deep red as your eyes go wide. “Hey love” he says and you swear his tone was eerily familiar… but you brush it off and decide to focus on getting back to Hobie. “H-hi… sorry but I need to go.” You go to walk off but he places a hand on the wall, leaning over you, simultaneously blocking your path.

“Oh yeah?” He says and tilts his head, you watch as he eyes you up and down and your unease turns to anger and irritation. The way this stranger was looking at you had you uncomfortable. “Yeah. To my boyfriend” your tone was stern, and your expression dropped to indifference.

He lets out a chuckle which vibrates through your body, it felt teasing, almost mocking. He leans in closer, tilting his head slightly to whisper in your ear. “Boyfriend? Hm isn’t he a lucky man?” The way his breathe tickles the sensitive part of your neck through his mask had you blushing again. You place your hands against the wall behind you, trying to ground yourself.

Before you could respond there’s a flash sound next to you, turning your head you notice a few people having spotted the scene and taking photos. The flash coming from a paparazzi. Once you spot them you can hear a soft scoff leave Spider-Punk as he pulls back from your neck, turning to look at the paparazzi as well.

It’s then that a few people run up to the two of you, asking… no, shouting their questions at you and Spider Punk. Ranging from “Care to comment on your relationship?!” to “Spider-Punk, who’s this little bird?” You stand there, frozen in place, all the attention having you like a deer in headlights.

It’s when Spider-Punk leans towards the paparazzi and says “Well… this here is my little bird” that the people start shouting more questions, getting louder, but you ignore it as you look at the Spider with a incredulous expression. You scoff and then lean forward, so you’re talking directly into his ear “I’m not your bird. I’m taken asshole”

He turns his head towards you, and you swear you can sense a smirk under his mask, you just scowl at him and then shove him off you. It earns a few ‘ooo’s and you then stomp off, brows still furrowed as you continue to make your way to Hobie’s apartment.

Just as you’re around the corner from his place, your phone begins to buzz. You assume it’s a message from Hobie, asking where you are, but instead it’s from a friend. A, seemingly, hastily typed message in all caps, with an attached link.

You open the message and you stop in your tracks as you read it. ‘OMG I LOVE HOBIE BUT I DIDNT KNOW HE WAS AN OPTION?!?’ You open the link quickly, it led you to an article. You read the headline with shaking hands, causing the phone to shake as well… it caused your breath to catch in your throat.

‘Heartthrob turns to Heartbreaker; Spider-Punk spotted with Secret Sweetheart!’ You then see the photo of you and Spider-Punk from a few minutes ago. You notice how it was front page news, as you look at more news websites, and just see that photo and over again. Then reading how they quoted him calling you ‘His little bird’.

Your mind immediately thinks of Hobie… what was he thinking seeing this? You then start sprinting, your heart beat quickening as you get closer to Hobie’s apartment. You finally reach it, running up the stairs and going to open the door, fumbling with your keys from your nerves before finally getting it in the lock.

You swing the door open and throw off your shoes, running into his bedroom and spotting him lying on the bed. When you run in, breathing heavily, his eyes focus on you, placing his phone on the bed and standing up. “Oi, love what’s wrong? You alright?” He walks up to you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

You look at his phone on the bed and see he had the article open, you then can’t help as your eyes well up. You grab his hands in yours, holding them in front of you as you begin to ramble, trying to explain what happened, your breathing turning shaky.

“Hobie listen it’s not what it looks like! I-I don’t know him, I don’t know why he’s so obsessed with me! I swear I didn’t know he was going to do that… he was just following me after work! I swear Hobie!” Your words begin to break, soft sobs leaving you as you feel a few tears slide down your cheeks, blazing a trail for more to follow.

Your hands were shaking, you were looking into Hobie’s eyes, desperately trying to find whether he was angry, or felt betrayed, or wanted to break up with you. The thought of losing him because of some stranger had your mind reeling “please… you have to believe me” your voice getting weaker, more quiet.

Hobie’s face drops, turning serious, and appearing guilty. “Aw love… come’ere” he lets go of your hands, wrapping his arms around your body, pulling you tightly against his chest. “I believe you…” he rubs your back comfortingly, kissing your head as you begin to cry harder.

You close your eyes, crying into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso, feeling safe in your boyfriend’s chest. “Take deep breaths for me yeah?” His voice was soft, trying to calm you with his words. You nod softly and then start to take deep breathes, feeling your heartbeat finally slow.

“There… that’s a good girl.” He had a soft smile on his face, looking down at you as if you were the most delicate but gorgeous thing in the whole world. Once you’ve calmed down a bit, you pull your face out of his chest and look up at him. “Y-you’re not mad? You don’t want to break up with me?” Your questions left him speechless for a moment, his brows furrowing.

“God no love, I would never do something so daft” he brings a hand to your face, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear with a smile. “B-but the article?” You go to say but he silences you with a soft kiss to the corner of your lips. He then pulls away and guides you to sit on the bed.

“Stay here. Lemme show you something.” You nod as you watch him step out of the room, when he comes back… well, he doesn’t come back. Instead Spider-Punk enters the room. Your eyes widen and you scoot back on the bed a little. “Hobie?!” You call out, trying to look behind the masked man.

He then raises his hands in the air “s’alright love…” you look back at him as he takes off his mask. Revealing the devilishly handsome man that is your boyfriend. Face piercings, naturally half-lidded eyes, signature smirk… the whole nine yards.

You sit up and then stand up off the bed. You raise a hand, placing it on his cheek, your eyes looking him up and down. “Y-you’re… Spider-Punk?” He nods his head, softly grasping your hand in his, turning his head to kiss your palm gently. “What’d I say eh? You’re my little bird” you feel relief rush through your body at his words.

After a bit, you began to feel slight agitation, pulling your hand away from his face and hitting his chest lightly. “You scared the hell out of me! I really thought some stranger was obsessed with me!” He chuckles when you hit him again, catching your wrists with his hands and pulling you against him again.

“Luckily… now you know it was just your boyfriend who’s obsessed with you” you froze slightly at his words, having never explicitly said he was your boyfriend. It made you blush slightly and he smiled, leaning down and kissing you softly. You melt against his plush lips, feeling how they seemed to mold with yours.

After a bit he pulls away and then furrows his eyebrows, “Where’d ya put my flowers?” You widen your eyes and give an awkward chuckle. “Well… in my defense. I didn’t know they were from you” at that he pulls away slightly, feigning a shocked expression. Clutching his chest with a hand, while putting on an exaggerated frown.

“You got rid of em? You cheeky girl!” He then lifts you up by your waist, throwing you onto his bed. You let out a soft yelp but chuckle as he climbs over you. Grabbing your wrists and pinning them above you on the bed. “I can’t believe you” he pouts and you can’t help but smile.

You scoff and then teasingly retort back “I can’t believe you thought it’d be a good idea to flirt and stalk me as Spider-Punk” He shrugs, smiling down at you. “To be fair… I thought you’da recognized me. The guitar, the voice, the way I knew you’re sensitive right… here” he leans into your neck, softly blowing on the same spot Spider-Punk - well… Hobie - did earlier. You softly shiver and he begins to kiss at your neck, you can feel the smirk on his lips.

“Now that my secrets out… I’d love to show ya all that Spider-Punk has t’offer”

What the ASTV Boys Love about you!

Warnings: does fluff count??? Lots of fluff lol, slight mention of panic in Miguel's section, reader is mentioned to know Spanish

Tried keeping it as gender neutral as possible!

Miles Morales

- The way you call him, mi vida. You already knew some (or were fluent) in Spanish. However, you didn't necessarily speak it often. There weren't much times where you needed to other than around family. So, when you first called him 'mi vida' he basically malfunctioned. His cheeks went pink and his jaw dropped, but he snapped back quickly after you called his name. It was so simple but he truly new you were the one.

Pavitr Prabhakar

- Where to start.. This man loves everything about you, from the way you look to the way your mind works. Personally, I think his favourite thing about you would be how you look when you're concentrating. Whether you poke your tongue out or bite your bottom lip, he's so entranced, watching you with the look of a lovesick puppy. He enjoys seeing you so passionate about something.

Hobie Brown

- He loves the way you hold his face when you're fixing a bloody nose or a cut above his eyebrow. Heck, he loves the feeling of your slightly calloused yet still soft hands against his sharp cheeks. The way you're so apologetic when he winces as you're cleaning a cut, but you scold him after just so he knows you're serious. It has his stomach doing happy little flips knowing you care so much about him with just this simple touch.

Miguel O'Hara

- He loves the minimal physical touches you offer. The gentle brush of fingers or a simple caress of his shoulder. It's comforting, but not overwhelming. He isn't huge on PDA, so you not being overly touchy is something he loves so dearly. It's something where touch says more than words. He knows that you understand when he's stressed or upset when you give his hand a squeeze, a gentle reminder to help him ground himself.

Peter B Parker

- He loves your hair. Whether it's short, long, or a mohawk. He loves how soft it looks, the gentle touch to it. His favourite thing is to touch it while cuddling. You could be wrapped up in his arms and he'd somehow be twirling your hair between his forefinger and thumb. It's more of a habit. You know how some baby's play with their hair to go to sleep?? That is exactly what Peter does, but with your hair.