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[silliefisk]

Miguel

[shypervydolly]

My favorite Miguel pics <3

[populartokyo]

Ridiculous . . .Chapter I. Don‘t

Miles G Morales x Fem; Reader

Content : Both Grown up, fluff, Slow Burn, Enemies to…?

Synopsis: You are a broke college student, who is working in a fancy Italian restaurant. To manage College, studying, friends, family, etcetera, etcetera … it’s all hard to manage all in once, but on top of that you have an annoyingly stupid Colleague, Miles G Morales, you guys eventually have to get along after your never ending taunts to each other …

When a day in College ends, most people in your campus are either partying, making out with strangers or doing some other crazy shit. You on the other hand, you have to take the subway, to go to work in this Italian restaurant like every other day. It’s hard to manage it all— college, studying, work and having a social life, it was damn near impossible. But you manage it, somehow. You still have to cancel the parties you’re getting invited to and you definitely do not have the time for a boyfriend.

The only reason why you took this job was to have at least some money in your pockets, so you’re not a complete broke student. You have a rent to pay, groceries to buy, all the boring adult stuff nobody warns you about.

When you are on your way to work, you have to study in the subway, because when your shift ends, it’s mostly 1 A.M and by the time you get back home, you shower, breathe for two minutes and sleep. There is zero time to study.

And God, the Manager of the restaurant, Mr Johnson, is a complete asshole, he has unrealistic expectations and treats the cooks and waitresses like robots. Your hourly wage is $18, and tips are usually 15-20% of the bill, enough to survive.

But despite the exhaustion, the stress and your manager being an absolute asshole, you enjoyed this job also because of your colleagues.

Maria is a middle aged woman, who works as a waitress and also partly in the kitchen. She is loud in the warmest way possible and her fiery Italian temperament, she is like the heart of the whole place. She is always talking about her son Gino, she tried to set you up with him, even though you never met this guy ever before.

Addison was only two years older than you, and also juggling with college and work. She understood the chaos, the burnout and the endless cycle. You guys became good friends and it actually felt like someone knows the stress you are going through.

Alessandro, also a guy around your age, stupidly handsome. And the numerous of times where Female Customers were hitting up on him, is countless. But who can blame them, he tends to be a flirt and charming.

Jermaine was the funniest person alive, fresh out of Highschool and always ready to spill the tea. You, him and Addison always gossip throughout your shifts.

And then there was Miles. You and him never got along. He wasn’t exactly rude, just….aggravating. Quiet but confident, annoyingly good at his job, annoyingly good looking and always in your damn way. Whenever you tried to serve a customer, he’ll appears out of nowhere and swoop in first.

You once started an argument, right infront of the espresso machine of all places. Loud enough for Maria to clutch her Rosary.

It was a rather slow Tuesday night, compared to the other nights. You was already tired from your morning lecture in college. When you turned around with a tray full of water glasses and saw Miles once again sliding into your section like he owned this place, something in you snapped.

"Can you not?" you hissed under your breath, balancing the tray on your hip. Miles barely looked at you, only raised a brow "Can I not…what?"

"You know what, that was my table!" You snapped. He shrugged, unfazed "They waved me over. Not my fault."

You almost dropped the damn glasses. "Wow, okay. Congrats on your fan club, Morales."

He smirked, that was infuriating tiny smirk he always gave you when he knew he was getting under your skin. "Thanks. Means a lot coming from you."

You stormed off, mumbling in languages.

2 weeks passed, the restaurant is packed on a Friday evening. You’re already exhausted, weaving through tables with a tray of pasta and drinks. And Miles is everywhere. He is too close behind you, cutting in front of you breathing the same damn air as you.

You’re reaching for a bottle of sparkling water when he bumps past your shoulder. "Move." He mutters. You slam the bottle onto your tray.

"Are you serious right now?!" Miles doesn’t even look at you and mumbles to himself "Can’t do this tonight." "You’ve been doing this for weeks!" Now he stops, turns to you, and raised his brow.

"Doing what? Doing my job?" "You’re sabotaging my tables!"

"I’m not sabotaging anything." He snaps back defensively. "You’re just too busy being mad at me to see straight." He continued.

"Oh my god" you hiss, stepping closer to him "You keep stealing my customers, because of whatever reason!" You snap. "I’m not stealing anything." He fires back "And you’ve been avoiding me for a lot longer than two weeks!" Your eyes widen, his jaw ticks and the air around you goes tight. Before you can say something smart, a customer knocks a glass over, you reach for a cloth, but so does he, your fingers brush. You flinch, Miles notice, and it pisses him off. He drops the cloth "You can’t even stand near me. That’s real mature."

"Oh don’t you dare-" Miles cut you off.

"What? Say the truth?"

"You don’t get to talk to me like that!" Your voice rises

"Then stop acting so childish!" He snaps back

"Coming from you? Since you are so mature and stealing my customers like it’s a marathon? Yeah you’re real mature."

Someone gasp. You don’t even realize customers are staring until Maria swoops in. "AY AY AY! BASTA! Why are you two yelling in front of the customers?!"

You both turned to her, pointed at each other "HE-" "SHE-"

You guys couldn’t even end your sentences, Mr. Johnson was storming to you.

"Both of you, in my office, now." Mr Johnson said.

You and Miles exchanged a horrified glance.

Inside the office, the door slams. "You two want to scream at each other? Fine. Do it in your free time. But in MY restaurant?" He points at each of you "Absolutely fucking not." He folds his arms "You will work overtime." Your stomach drops "Sir-" "Oh no, don’t talk yet." Mr. Johnson snaps to you "For the next three weeks-" You and Miles make the same face of dread. "—You will work the same hours." Miles let out a harsh breath "Seriously?" "And" Mr. Johnson continues over him "You’re on dish duty." Your knees threaten to buckle. "Dish duty…overtime… What about my—" "You’ll manage" He cuts you off "Or you’ll be fired."

As you both step out of the office, your shoulder is brushing his, you’re greeted by Addison and Jermaine. No teasing, no jokes. Addison‘s eyes widen, concerns tightening her expression. "Oh my god…you okay?" She asks softly, stepping closer. Jermaine wrings his hands in his apron. "What happened? Did he yell at you? Are you in trouble? Tell me who to fight." You don’t say anything, you’re too tired to function, too mad to form a sentence.

After you explained your situation, that you and Miles have to work overtime and doing dishes duty together, you were even too tired to be complaining. Addison squeezed your arm. "You have to work overtime, together? That’s insane. You’re barely sleeping." Jermaine nods quickly "And you’ve got exams next week… This isn’t fair." You blinked hard, trying to fight tears. "I’m fine" you whisper "I just… really want to get through tonight." Jermaine shakes his head "Baby, you’re shaking." You look down, your fingers tremble around your apron strings. Miles notices it too, you feel his eyes on you. He shifts his weight, then mutters under his breath "You should sit down." You stiffen, still pissed at him "I don’t need your help." His jaw clenched "It’s not about needing help, it’s about YOU not fainting on the floor." Jermaine shoots him a sharp look. "She’s exhausted, bro. Read the room." Miles exhales through his nose, but stays quiet. "Let’s just get through the shift." You rolled your shoulders back and straightened up. Addison and Jermaine exchange a look that says they’re worried out of their minds. Miles look at you like he wants to say something, but he bites back.

After the restaurant closed, you and Miles were the only ones who were staying in the restaurant, to clean the dozen of dishes.

Your hands hurt from scrubbing dishes, your arms shake from carrying trays that feels heavier every minute. And Miles is right next to you. Breathing, existing, moving when you move. You both been quiet since you guys started washing the dishes. You’re scrubbing a plate with so much force you might break it, you were breaking the silence by muttering through your teeth "Seriously… I can’t… I can’t do all of this. College… work…dishes…you…" Your voice cracks "Just- I can’t."

Miles doesn’t answer.

And then it happens again. You reach for the same plate he does—not by accident this time, just a tired reflex- and your fingers brush again. You snatch your hand again, he freezes again.

"You don’t have to…" He begins quietly, voice low, deeper than before. You cut him off instantly.

"Don’t start."

He sets the plate down carefully "I wasn’t gonna fight." He says, breathing out hard "Believe it or not."

"Could’ve fooled me." You mutter

His eyes flick to you, lingering too long — not angry, not soft, but maybe something in between that. "You’re exhausted" He says, barely above a whisper. You bristle

"Don’t act like you suddenly care."

"That’s not what I said." He said back

"Well, it’s what it sounds like."

He laughs under his breath, nor amused or frustrated

"You twist everything I say." He murmured

"You make everything impossible." You murmured back

The dishwasher beeps behind you, the loud reminder of all the work left. Then he murmurs— soft, tense, almost angry

"Just… stop pushing yourself so hard."

You stirred a bit, but continued washing the dishes

"Seriously you should slow down, your hands are shaking." He continued, you swallow, looking away quickly.

"I’m Fine, just… tired…" He glances at you, not long or intense, just enough to make your chest go tight.

"…yeah" He mutters "I can’t see that…"

You open your mouth to push again, but nothing comes out, so you nod once, quietly, turning back to the sink. The air between you stays heavy and confusing. But it is shifting.

So you guys, this is the first chapter of this new series I’m planning to do. I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter ;) So yeah, English ain’t my first language so excuse me if there are any mistakes, I’m always open for criticism anyway 🫶 So yeah Miles G Morales fans wake up and read this fanfic have a good day 💕💕

[lu-cider]

here's some ATSV meme redraws!! (o^^o)

(feedback on the ALT text is welcomed with open arms)

[thelittlebantamrooster]

This was part of a bigger piece I did, but I pretty much hated the rest of it because it hurt my eyes and the colors did not go together.

But here's Miguel. I did this like last year on the crusty Adobe app before I got Procreate. Yay

[ophyriart]

Want to do other Miguel + pyramid head

[ajaxbleachishere]

He rockin' out

[solariasplanet]

When In Camden

Part 2

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━➢Read TW and A/N PLZZ

Summary: When your school schedules you for a year abroad you thought that was as lucky as you'd ever get. Imagine your surprise when you find out you're the apple of somebody's eye, two somebodies! Will you bag the foreign cutie or pack your bags by the end of the school year? No one ever said love was easy!

✯ Characters: Hobie x Fem!Reader

✯ TW!: Usage of cigarettes,Usage of Alcohol Using OCs to push the storyline along, suggestive scene, one of the OCs being a creep lowk!

✯ Words: 8.3K

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━➢Do not copy, run through ai, or plagarize my work!

Author's Note: Part two is finally done and i lowk didn't expect to get to 8k words holy smokes! As always if u don't like don't red but I hope u read cause the ao3/tumblr curse is lowk coming for me... Anyways!!! As always you can view the moodboard and I'm linking a song cause music is life :p

Moodboard! | Tonight- Pinkpantheress

{Part 1} | {Part 2} | {Part 3} | {Part 4}

Ding!

As you ring the doorbell, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous, shifting your feet from side to side on the fuzzy ‘welcome home’ mat at the front door. It’s not like it’s your first pool party ever, but it’s making out to be the most important one yet. Hobie’s going to be there, just one of many factors that have you picking at the strap of your duffel bag and chewing on your bottom lip absent-mindedly. While you wait, you take note of your surroundings and how big Yaz’s house really is, one of those large two-story houses on the corner of the street; that’s how you know she’s got a lot of money. Lush and Vibrant foliage decorates her insanely long driveway. With her parents gone, it’s not getting much use.

Yet.

Scrambling and barking are heard before the large door swings open with force that could only come from an overexcited girl ready to party like there’s no tomorrow. In front of you stands Yaz, already wearing one of the tons of swimsuits she had promised to share and try on with you; next to her, a fluffy little dog jumps out and barks loudly, clawing at your shoes.

“Down, girl.” Yaz comes to pick up the small puppy, cradling it in her arms. A smile stretches across your face at the sight. You pet her soft fur and scratch behind her ears; the perfect distraction from the ever-building anxiety of the party.

“Don’t jus’ stand there, get inside! We have so much prep ta do. It’s seriously insane.” You’re beckoned inside instantly, nearly tripping over your shoes from how eager Yaz is to get started. She slams the door; the sound sealing your fate. As you unlace your sneakers, she’s already spewing ideas on snacks, girly movies, party games, the whole lot of it. The sheer speed of her words making you increasingly dizzy and nervous.

“So I’m thinkin’ lots and lots of chips. Oh! Plus beer for the blokes and soda or champagne! Speakin’ of the guys… How are you and your man?” She teases, dragging out the n in the last word to drive you crazy, voice resounding in the large open space of her front entrance.

Inside her house is decorated in a more woodsy style, evidence of her parents’ income and, most likely, how they’re funding the party. A fake bear’s head hung above the unlit fireplace, and a brown wool carpet rested under a large leather couch with a matching armchair next to it. Even you can’t deny it’s such a strange contrast to the party animal twins that reside here. You both make the walk to the kitchen; it’s large and absolutely decked out for the party. Multi-colored bowls filled with different flavors of chips line the white marble countertop of the kitchen island. You notice the massive stainless steel fridge first; beer is stocked to the limit in surrounding red coolers, and if you had to guess, you would assume that the fridge has got a shit ton of soda and food platters in it. You gotta hand it to the twins; they’re great at throwing parties.

“We’re not official! Unless he mentioned anything to you?” Hobie’s not the type to beat around the bush. You’re sure of it! But if he did spill anything, you know he’d go talk to Yaz or Kai, and a delusional small part of you wonders if he talks about you when you’re not there. If he goes on and on about all the things he finds cute about you or all the little quirks he picks up when you both skip class together?

“I’m jokin’, girl. But he’s gonna be here soon, so what are we waitin’ for!? If you’re gonna try to wow him, you have to be wearing something cuter than a white top and jorts, babe. You’re not Adam Sandler, are ya?” She jokes, flicking the hem of your white graphic tee. Sure, it’s a burner fit, but still! Giggling like little girls, you both rush upstairs, feet slipping on the shiny oak wood when your socks decide to be difficult with you. Thankfully, the upstairs hall is carpeted, giving your legs a rest from all the sliding on the hardwood; the upstairs walls are painted a cream off-white to match all the doors. Well, almost all the doors. You know it’s Yaz’s room before she even tells you. Where the pristine white of the door should’ve been, in its place stands a pink glittery sticker mutation of what it once was. She makes a grand gesture of swinging open the door before ushering you inside and slamming it shut.

It’s expected, truly. Her room is decently large. A poster bed with a pink sheer drape sits in the middle of her room, pushed up against the wall. A large window offers a gorgeous view of their backyard, and it’s almost crazy how large it is. Yaz draws your attention to her closet, a big walk-in; the door is crowded by a bean bag and an army of stuffed animals she’s collected over the years. Placing your duffel down, you take a moment to study the absurd amount of clothes in her closet; a rainbow of tops, bottoms, and accessories line the shelves and hangers of her walk-in. Wasting no time, she immediately gets to searching for swimsuits.

“So for you I’m thinking a two-piece, ta show off what ya got so Hobes can see.” For a moment, her voice is muffled from the depths of her closet, although it’s not for long because she soon emerges with an array of bikinis that are increasingly more daring than the last.

“I don’t think I should wear something so skimpy. Sure, I wanna look good for Hobie, but there are tons of other dudes there that I’m not committing to.” Sighing, you flop down on the edge of her bed, watching as she lays out her collection of swimsuits with practiced accuracy next to you.

“Luv, you’re playing yourself if you think that you shouldn’t wear a cute swimsuit cause other blokes are gonna be there!”

“What does that even mean?” you ask, fidgeting with your shirt in renewed nervousness while Yaz glances between you and a swimsuit, holding it up to your skin to test the color.

“Think about it like this: ta catch a fish you need bait, righ’? You’re the bait! Bait isn’t for one fish only. You just have ta hope you catch the fish that you’re baitin’.” She explains, her expression smug as if she said something absolutely revolutionary.

“Now hold still, yeah? I’m tryin’ ta see if this is your color or not.”

Her selection is impressive, a light pink bikini with glittering embroidery on the top and white bows on the bottom, a green polka-dot tankini that would surely hug your hips, another pink one with black stripes and a skull decal printed onto one side of the top, amongst other colorful options. In the end, you choose the one you think matches your skin the best, hoping it’ll complement your eyes and make your skin pop. Or was it the other way around? She takes the closet to change while you use her bathroom to get ready. White light floods the bathroom when her LED mirror turns on automatically. You step up to the mirror and quickly change into your swimsuit, excitement running through you in anticipation of the upcoming party.

Once you’re done tying the top into place, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Well, it is skimpy, that’s for sure. Although you’ve come to like it, even doing a small three-sixty in the mirror before pinning your hair up in preparation for the pool. A soft knock is heard before Yaz enters, now in her hot pink bikini with a white off the shoulder shirt and a low-rise pair of booty shorts that display the straps of her swim bottoms.

“I admit I was skeptical, but wow. That color is doin’ wonders for you, babe. If Hobie doesn’t make a move after today, I’ll start assuming he’s not into girls at all.”

“Ugh! Don’t even call that into existence. I’m hoping he at least talks to me today, we’ve never really hung out outside of school before.” You watch as Yaz does a little make-up to spice up her look, lining her lips and putting on a deep reddish-pink gloss that complements her eyes and deep brown skin.

“Have confidence! Plus, you two are never really ‘in’ school anyway. Skippin’ off campus isn’t really considered goin’ to school now, is it?” She teases, dusting some of her blush onto your cheek playfully. Both of you laugh, and she starts on your makeup: a lip combo that’s to die for and a waterproof mascara that she swears on her life does not come off in the pool.

“My best work yet, seriously.” Of course, she snaps a couple photos to post on her Insta later, already planning what song to add and who not to tag. When you’re both done, she turns on a random Netflix series on her laptop, and you both lie in her bed chatting like there’s no tomorrow. Until…

Knock Knock Knock

“Who the fuck?” It’s harsh, and judging by the lack of people who’ve shown up yet, it can only be one person. Yaz tosses you your cover-up: a tube top and a pair of jean shorts that you leave slightly unbuttoned (because it’s summer), and then she’s moving to answer the door for her brother.

“Open the damn door. You were supposed to be setting up!” For a second, it’s pin silent until she exhales in resignation, cracking open the door a sliver and then deciding to just open it fully.

“Right. I’ll do it later, bruv. I’m doing something righ’ now.”

“What could you possibly be doing instead of setting up for the best night of our lives?” That’s when he spots you, sitting on Yaz’s bed, still watching the show; his eyes drifting over your figure. Yaz follows his gaze and rolls her eyes at him.

“Knock it off. You know she’s my friend, and Hobie’s got a thing for her. That’s off limits.”

“Oh, but my old best mate wasn’t? You and Hobie should both piss off. Today’s my day. I bet she’ll be hanging with me by the end of the night.” He counters, his eyes drifting over your outfit one last time before choosing to wait to say anything. He might be down bad, but his priority is the party.

“Fine, whatever! I’ll do it now. Just do butt nothing while your lovely sister does all the work for you.” He flips her off, and she returns the gesture, slamming her door in his face.

“Well, we’re on prep duty thanks to my stupid brother. Still! If we do it fast, we can still catch the ending of the episode before the rest of the partygoers get here. Hopefully.”

“What was that last part?”

Ding!

“Damn… the bell.” Yaz groans, wiping the sweat off her brow. After thirty minutes, you both had managed to wheel out all the coolers, set up the snack table, set up the snacks, and put up the pool chairs along with extra sunblock, goggles, and towels. It looks great, though, but her backyard takes most of the credit for that. It’s got a large hot tub right next to the rectangular pool that goes seven feet deep! There’s also a darkwood pergola that provides a good amount of shade for seating and a round table that’s right next to the brick pizza oven built into the side of the house. On top of that, there’s still enough grassy area behind the pool for the boys to roughhouse or play whatever games they want.

“You good?” You ask, tossing her a cold water bottle out of the last cooler you two had just wheeled. She catches the water and immediately opens it to chug half. Closing the glass sliding door behind her, she takes a moment to catch her breath.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Ding!

“I’ll get it!” She calls out to no one in particular, and you can already see it on her face: that usual plotting smirk of hers taking over her previously exhausted expression. Dear God, what is it this time?

“Did I mention I kinda ‘forgot’ to tell Hobie you’d be here? For the surprise factor!” Laughing, she opens the door to Hobie and a few other dudes who had carpooled with him, gesturing for them to come inside, the first of many guests. By the time your brain catches up, it’s already too late. The height of Yaz’s front door does nothing to dwarf Hobie’s lanky form stepping into the foyer holding two grocery bags in his slender hands, no doubt filled with cigarettes and alcohol. Yaz’s little puppy already clawing and jumping at his legs as if it’s routine.

“Sup, Yaz. Your brother too lazy ta come answer the door, innit?” He hands her the bags, and she rolls her eyes, obviously agreeing with his statement. Using his now free hands, he reaches down to hold the small dog in his arms; it nearly makes you melt right there.

“Too lazy to do anything, really.” Shrugging, she goes to put the bags on the kitchen counter, brushing shoulders with you and winking. That’s when Hobie notices you, stopping dead in the process of kicking off his shoes. You wave, willing your body to do something instead of just standing there like a dork. In one stride, he’s already standing in front of you, ignoring his mates who are teasing or clapping him on the back as they pass.

“Here I was thinkin’ this would be some regular old thing. It’s nice ta see your face, luv. Didn’t know you’d be here.” His voice is as enchanting as ever, heating up your face as soon as he opens his mouth. It’s ironic, he’s happy to see you, but you’re even happier to see him. His wicks are pushed out of his face by a black elastic headband, a baggy white tee covering what you’re desperate to see again, and a pair of red swim trunks hanging low on his hips and revealing his v-line every time his shirt rides up. Does he even know he looks this good?

“Ah, yeah, Yaz actually just told me she forgot to tell you. You know how she is, thinking so fast she forgets.” Hopefully, you’re not stuttering; you can’t even focus on your own words as he pushes back his wicks slightly, most likely out of habit from when he wears them out. A smirk creeps onto his face at your words; the expression only serves to make him sexier than he already is. In his arms, the puppy licks at his shirt, ever energetic in his hold. Is it possible to be jealous of a dog?

“Mhm. She’s been like tha’ since she was a kid, but her brother is worse. I'll tell you tha’. Anyways, I’m gonna help unpack the bags, you comin' or wha’?” he asks, hooded eyes boring into yours as if he can sense what you’re thinking before you say it. It feels like your mind is playing tricks on you, but you swear you see a glimmer of something else in his gaze, like there are unsaid words that are desperately begging to be let free. Secrets are a part of who Hobie is; since the ‘incident,’ you’ve learned to accept that, doing your best to lock down any hurt feelings that arise when he up and leaves your little hangouts with no explanation. Still, you’d be lying if you said his mysterious persona didn’t make you want to sit down and take the time to learn everything about him, trace the hidden skin under his shirt, and converse about all the things you hadn’t dared to ask before.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, let’s go.” Following behind him, you watch as he walks to the kitchen, putting the dog down to help put all the groceries in their rightful spots like he’s done this before. You take the seat next to Yaz, who’s sitting at the island and typing on her phone, ever so often looking up to instruct one of the boys on where to put an item.

“Oi, most of you guys have been here before. Don’t act brand new all of a sudden. Hobie, I trust you’ve got them? This is taking way too long,” she groans, clicking off her phone and turning to the boys, waiting for any sign of confirmation. Hobie nods, and that’s all she needs before she’s making her way outside, gesturing for you to follow her.

The sun is warm on your skin once you both step outside, summer heat making the blue of the pool call to you like a twisted siren’s song. Both of you occupy the two loungers near the shallow end of the pool, rushing to take off the cover-ups and get in the water.

“Mind getting my back?” she asks, handing you a bottle of sun tan oil and turning around. You get to work, rubbing your hands together to heat up the oil before spreading it over her back. It’s monotonous, giving your mind time to drift to other things, such as Hobie. Like always, though, Yaz can tell when your mind is elsewhere. That’s what friends are for, after all.

“Girl, are you good? You can’t be down right as the party starts! That’s like forbidden in the pool party rulebook.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just.. thinking.”

“Thinking of Hobie? Shouldn’t that make you excited?” she teases, trying to cheer you up, but there’s still that faraway look in your eyes; a look that she’s seen many times before.

“Listen. Hobie’s a mystery. I mean, when Kai and I first met him, he was super closed off. It took a shit ton of time for us to get to know him, and even then, I think I know less than Kai does. Either way, he’ll open up when he’s ready. You’ve just gotta get there first. So cheer up and wow him today!” Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t resist her cheerful energy. Her pep talks might not be the greatest, but they’re effective, and that’s really what you needed in that moment.

“Alright. Only cause I can’t help it when you’re this excited. Now get my back for me?”

“See, babe, I would, but then my middle name wouldn’t be Cupid, innit?” You hardly get to register what she said before she cannonballs into the pool, leaving you waiting with the sun tan oil and wet skin from the splash.

“What the hell!? So how am I going to do my back then?”

“I’ll do it for ya if you don’t mind, luv.” Your head whips around, already knowing what you’re going to find. Fuck, it’s Hobie. He’s already stepping over to you, taking the seat where Yaz was, like it’s no big deal. She knew! Now you could totally just tell him you’ve got it and try to do it yourself, although it might hurt his feelings a little. Then you look at Yaz, and you see that same smirk from earlier.

Crap.

“I um don’t mind if you don’t.” You hand him the sun tan oil and turn around, praying to the gods that you don’t embarrass yourself today. Just like you had before, he lathers his hands in oil and slowly presses them to your back. Despite yourself, you shiver, almost leaning into his touch. It’s so awkward; the only sound is the splashing from the pool while Yaz tries to pretend like she’s not watching. You’re almost certain you’re stiff, still; it’s not your fault that he’s sexy and unknowingly using it to his advantage. His head lowers, and you feel his breath brush past your ear.

“You’re tense. I can stop if you want?”

“No! I mean, no. Sorry, I’m just– I don’t know.” That gets a laugh out of him, almost mocking, but you know better than that.

“I don’t mean to laugh, luv. S’alright, I already told you I don’t mind, jus’ ignore my hands, yeah?” Easier said than done. You’re pretty sure he’s an expert masseuse, deft fingers press into the tense muscle of your shoulders under the guise of working in the sun tan oil. Then they move to your lower back, pressing into your spine and sweeping over the sides of your torso. How’s he so good with his hands? Just one more mystery you’ll have to figure out. Though by the time he’s done, you’re not so sure you care; your back is shining, and your face is redder than his swim trunks.

“Are you gettin’ in?” He asks, already standing and lifting the hem of his shirt, peeling it off, and throwing it onto the chair. You try not to stare, but it’s no good, already glimpsing at his abs perfectly glistening in the sun and his shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips. His torso is flawless, toned muscles and taunting happy trail, only making you want him more. It’s like he was specifically crafted to be the hottest guy alive! Is that even fair? Wait. Where’d it go? Your eyes scan his abs once more, but not out of admiration, out of confusion. Five days ago. Five days ago, he was there, in your room, bleeding out onto your dorm floors, slumping in exhaustion on the peeling wallpaper of the old room. There’s no scar. A gash that big should have a scar, right? Right?

“Oh. Yeah! I’m getting in!” You follow him to the edge of the pool, where he makes quick work of jumping in just as Yaz had done moments prior. He resurfaces, pushing his wet hair out of his face, water droplets streaking down his chest in ways you wish your hands were. Both he and Yaz look at you expectantly, waiting for you to join them. Inhaling, you remember Yaz’s advice from not too long ago, and you take the leap into the water.

Splash!

Water droplets fly all around, wetting the surrounding concrete and turning it a dark shade of grey. Only an hour in, and the party is in full swing. Some dudes are having a breath-holding contest; others are trying to jump into the pool as many times as possible, and a few are standing on the outskirts of the pool snacking or taking a smoke break. You and Yaz are hanging near the deep end of the pool, doing what you do best: gossiping.

“I was shoppin’ in the mall, righ’? Then this old fuckin’ bint comes up to tell me tha’ I can’t buy four skirts with the buy one get one price! Like it’s literally–” Knowing Yaz she could’ve gone on about that topic for ages, but she’s rudely interrupted by her brother raising hell and splashing water all over both of you.

“It’s not really a party if you’re not partyin’. Stop bein’ lame. I was jus’ thinkin’ of a friendly game of beer pong. Less you’re both afraid ta lose?” Kai’s the number one instigator; he knows how competitive Yaz can get, and he uses it to his advantage. His plan? No one really knows. It’s probably a plot to show off for all his friends.

“Oi! I’d beat your ass anytime. I can down ten cups and still win.” And so it begins. You make your way over to the pool table, where Kai and his friends had been hanging out outside the pool before he decided to be antagonizing; Yaz now fired up and ready to win no matter what.

“Aight pair up. You all know the rules. Clear all the cups. If a ball lands in your cup, you drink it, and just to be safe, if you drink more than five cups, you’re out. Simple.” A lot of the dudes opt out of the challenge entirely, not trying to be in the middle of whatever is happening between Kai and Yaz, already knowing how it ends. In the end, it’s just you, Hobie, and the twins. Yaz instantly pairs up with you, already plotting on how to win. Kai’s scowl is apparent as he sets the table up while Hobie walks over to you, ignoring how Kai’s scowl deepens when he notices Hobie fraternizing.

“So you ready, luv? It’s always a hell of a time playing with these two. I don’t think I’ve made it a single game without gettin’ buzzed by the end of it.”

“To be honest, I’m not really in the mood to deal with them when they’re this competitive,” you respond, looking over to see Yaz glaring daggers at her brother while he pours a gracious amount of beer into each cup.

“Smart. Hav’ to agree with you on that one. Hm, how ‘bout we jus’ throw the game? Lose on purpose to get it out of the way.” You smile, thinking about it for a second. It would give you time to talk to Hobie one-on-one, bond a little.

“I like how you think. I’ll throw it if you do.”

“Works fa me, good luck losin’,” he chuckles, sending you a scheming wink before retreating to his side of the table. You hate to see him walk away, but you can’t deny how good he looks across from you, yellow backyard lights highlighting his striking facial features now that the sun is starting to go down. His tongue is slightly out in concentration as he prepares to take the first throw, piercings glinting in the lowering sunlight, especially his lip ring, which you can’t help but imagine having it pressed up against your lips.

“You ready?” You know he’s talking to both of you, yet it still feels targeted in a way. He takes the first throw, the ball landing in one of the many cups you’ll have to down tonight. Yaz hands it to you, counting on you to drink the first few beers so she still has a shot at winning. The smooth liquid burns your throat, cup emptying rapidly while Yaz turns back to the game. She takes the next go, her pong ball also landing in a cup. Hobie downs it instantly, eager to get this stupid competition over with. You watch as beer drips down his throat in small rivulets when he tilts his head back, Adam's apple bobbing each time he swallows. He crushes the cup and throws it somewhere behind him.

Holy shit.

From there, it’s a back and forth, Yaz making a few and Kai missing a couple shots. Now it’s even; a few cups left, but you and Hobie are both one cup away from being out and too many cups in to be decently sober.

“Any time now, girl,” Yaz rushes you. Although her tone is still quite playful, despite her immense passion for winning. By now, your vision is slightly blurred, chlorine and alcohol making it partially hard to see. Your head swims with a beer-induced haze, pong table wobbling in your vision. Still, you can make out the way Hobie’s eyes are practically begging for you to take the shot and get him out, a similar haze concealed beneath his gaze. You toss the ball, and it barely makes it in, rimming the cup for a split second before splashing into the cold beer inside; the cup’s contents are gone almost immediately.

“Wow, can’t believe I’m out,” Hobie says, loud enough for Kai and Yaz to hear him; ultimately, they don’t care. Kai takes his shot, and just like that, you’re out too. Willing yourself not to jump for joy, you take the cup of beer with you and walk over to where Hobie is soaking his legs in the pool.

“Who do you think is going to win?” You ask, sitting beside him; your thigh brushes his gently. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“For sure, Yaz. She’s got spirit if I ever saw it.” He glances over at you, eyes grazing your form subtly. Fuck, you look good. Of course, he’s seen tons of girls in swimsuits in his time, but you're certainly the most memorable out of all of them. Partially because you look good, of course. Even he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed it when you were basically eyefucking him from across the ping-pong table; he almost didn’t want to throw the game just so you’d keep glancing at him when you thought he wasn’t looking. The other reason being that you’re insanely charming without trying. Down to the way you think you’re being subtle when you’re eyeing his piercings or his abs. He might’ve been out of it that night when he stopped by yours, but he could almost feel the way your eyes were burning a hole into his abs. It’s not like he cares, though; it’s flattering to know you like him so much, even if he can’t bring himself to make a move. It’s too risky since he’s Spider-Punk. Or at least that’s what he’s telling himself once he lets his eyes drift up to meet yours, playing that half smirk on his lips again; he knows it drives you crazy.

“Yeah. I think she’ll win too, hopefully,” you respond, trying not to make it awkward to no avail. It’s silent other than the furious yelling between the twins, who hardly even noticed your absence. You’re not exactly sure what to say next. What would Yaz say? Right, make a move. How do you do that? You mentally slap yourself. It's like you like him so much you’re going stupid! Woman up and do it already! If he rejects you, then that’s that, and you can move on from this stupid chase game you’re both playing. Giving one last glance towards his face, you sigh, chugging a bit of the cold beer from your solo cup, hoping to steel your nerves.

“Mind if I get a sip?”

“What?” You look up to find him staring not at your cup but rather your lips, nothing subtle in his gaze. Well damn.

“I’m sure you know I don’t mind if you don’t. It’s not like you’re a stranger, luv.” He shrugs, leaning in slightly to see if you’ll oblige and give him a sip. Maybe it’s the buzz, or maybe it’s just the moment, but you’re not entirely opposed. You both are pretty close anyway, and it’s not like you mind either. It always feels natural hanging out with Hobie, and you wonder if he feels it too; the lack of boundaries.

“Are you sure? I mean, I’m fine with it, but I kinda already drank out of it.” You can hear him try to hold it in before he’s laughing quite loudly. Once he notices the serious look on your face, his laughter starts to slow.

“Oi, I already promised I don’t mind. It’s fine if you don’t want to share with me, innit. I already had five already, shouldn’t even be askin’ fa more.” You deadpan at his words, which causes him to laugh even more. It’s so silly, yet in that moment, it just feels like it’s you two. Everyone else be damned; you even start to laugh with him yourself.

“If you insist.” You hand him your cup, fingers brushing tantalizingly when he goes to grab it. His lips press to the same spot where yours were, lip gloss stain still on the rim. He has to be doing this on purpose. Tilting his head back, you watch him swallow down the last of your beer like he had done earlier during the game of beer pong. Hazel eyes lazily meeting yours after he crushes the cup, gauging your reaction, or maybe just staring at your face. If only moments could really last forever. Behind you, a loud slam is heard, empty red solo cups clattering to the floor.

“I win! Suck it bitch!” Yaz yells, drawing the attention of a few dudes nearby who instantly cheer for her and a couple of Kai’s mates who tease him for the loss, including Hobie.

“Can’t believe you lost to your sister, mate,” Hobie teases. Kai looks over, seeing you and Hobie sitting together on the sidelines. He’s furious, already firing back an insult.

“Bet you’d lose too! Why don’t you both stop chatting like pacifists and actually try to play the game right? See who’s the loser then.” Kai mumbles that last part, but it’s still clear enough to Hobie, who’s already on the rebuttal.

“Wouldn’t be a loss if I end up drunk next to this bird, innit?” Hobie’s witty, and it only infuriates Kai further because he’s right, and Kai would kill to end up just like how you and Hobie are now. It should be you and him sitting next to each other laughing at his jokes, not Hobie’s! He knows he’s fighting a losing battle, but if he’s anything, it’s definitely not a quitter. Your face turns red at Hobie’s words. Is he being smart-mouthed, or does he actually mean it? Still, you keep silent to avoid any drama, waiting to see how this’ll play out. Kai’s jealous; who wouldn’t be in a situation like this?

“Whatever, it's high time for dinner anyway. I’m gettin’ somethin’ ta eat.” Kai stomps into the house, bumping shoulders with a few of his mates on the way back inside. Hobie rolls his eyes, thighs brushing yours when he gets up from his spot. The look in his eyes tells you he really doesn’t want to go, but deep down, he knows it’s wrong to leave his friend hurt like that. You watch as he goes inside, closing the sliding door behind him. It’s just like at school; you mentally scold yourself for thinking it could be any different here. Leaning back on your elbows, you study the skyline as if it could give you all the answers; the gradients of pinks and oranges do little to soothe your nerves or slow your spiraling thoughts.

“Two dudes fighting over you, huh? Wish I was that lucky… Do you wanna hit the hot tub? I think that's what you need righ’ now.” She offers, looking towards the skyline as well, waiting for you to make a choice. Without thinking, you take her hand, and she leads you over to the side of the pool with the hot tub. If you’re here to party, then you’re going to party. Thankfully, most of the guys went inside when Hobie and Kai did, so you both get to enjoy yourselves for real.

Water bubbles all around you both, heat seeping into your muscles akin to the way Hobie’s hands had done before. Even when you’re trying to forget him, he’s still at the forefront of your mind. Yaz already changed the music to one of her many playlists, a more sensual song taking over the previous upbeat mix. You relax onto the walls of the hot tub; Yaz beside you and already doing her best to cheer you up, popping a bottle of champagne that she had somehow brought along without you realizing. It fizzes for a second, seemingly about to bubble over, then she’s pressing her lips to the bottle, not a care in the world. This is what partying should look like.

“If we’re goin’ ta party, let's do it right.” She takes a long swig first, handing it to you afterwards; her eyes urging you to just let loose. Taking a sip, you let the alcohol do its thing, feeling it fizzing in your veins. In the meanwhile you start up a conversation with Yaz, who’s already hyped up again, music willing her limbs to move; you both pass the bottle between each other every now and then. Splashing each other in the water and dancing to the beat of the music. Slowly, the sun descends from the sky until there’s nothing left but inky blackness and twinkling stars, illuminating your skin that’s already shining from the foaming water and liquid courage burning your face.

“Calmed down now, innit?” Hobie asks, coming to sit down next to Kai on the living room couch and nursing an unlit cigarette between his fingers. Kai sighs, head resting back on the leather couch as he looks to Hobie from the corner of his eyes.

“Yeah. Listen, bruv. I’m sorry fa overreacting back there, but you’ve gotta understand. That bird is gorgeous. The girl of my dreams. I’m goin’ ta put my all into makin’ sure I’ll be tha’ one ta get with her. All my years bein’ your friend and I never seen you like a girl, or a dude. Now I like this one, and suddenly you’re all ova’ her? From today on, I’m goin’ ta do all I can to make sure she ends up with me. We’re still buds, promise. Jus’ back off. I don’t think ya even like her like tha’.” Hobie wants to retaliate, go on some spiel about how you can’t force love and whatnot, but he knows better than anyone else that you don’t need to prove yourselves to others, especially not Kai. Ultimately, he nods and stands up, patting Kai on the shoulder.

“You can trap a bird, but you can’t make it like the cage.”

“Bruv, what does that even mean?” Hobie just shrugs, walking off to the backyard, ignoring the gaze of the rest of the dudes there.

The sliding door opens, and he’s immediately hit with summer humidity, outside air sobering him up slightly. Hard to believe it was just winter, although he’s not really complaining when he notices you in the hot tub, skin glistening in the dim lights of the water. Glancing at the house, then back to you, he sighs, shimmying his hands into the pocket of his swim trunks to pull out a red lighter. An orange glow emits from the tip of the cigarette once he lights it up, already inhaling the smoke to take his mind off of things. It does the exact opposite. Looking at you again, he finds himself wondering why he likes you so much. Why do you charm him so easily? He realizes Kai’s not wrong: Hobie’s had tons of girls come up to him asking him out, but he’s never really been a fan of romance too much. Always telling himself that it’s just too much of a risk. With you, there’s just something in your eyes that calls to him; he saw it when he bumped into you that first day, and he definitely saw it that night he came to your dorm. It’s just so uniquely you and he can’t help but crave it, crave that look when you stare at him like he’s the brightest star in your life, like you can’t look away even if you tried.

“Stare any harder, and you might develop laser eyes.” He looks to the side quickly, averting his gaze.

“Have I been starin’ that long?” he asks, ignoring the knowing look on Yaz’s face.

“Long enough for me to notice. I’m gettin’ a bite inside. She’s all yours, mate. Don’t fuck it up.” He stares for a moment, but there’s only seriousness in her gaze. Nodding, he pushes off the wall and strides over to the hot tub, one goal in mind.

“Oi, mind if I join you, luv?” Your eyes blink open to find Hobie already staring down at you, cigarette hanging dangerously between his plush lips. A pause follows, but he’s not backing away or laughing it off like it’s some odd prank. He’s serious?

“Mhm, if you want to.” He doesn’t waste any time, already settling in next to you. Your eyes follow the way his lips wrap around the tip of the cigarette, puffing smoke out into the night air.

“About earlier…,” you start. His eyes flick to yours, waiting for you to continue, but you don’t; your eyes instead trained on the way the water flows around you both, hot water dripping down both your bodies. Hobie gazes up at the sky for a moment, collecting his courage.

“What of it?” Something tells you he’s playing coy, but you don’t have half a brain to care, under the influence of a lot of beer.

“When... we were next to each other, and we shared my beer? I just– I just felt like at that moment we were… There was something there. It’s driving me crazy all this back and forth. Every time I look away, I find myself staring back at you. Tell me I’m crazy.” You can’t help it; the words just pour out like the alcohol had been poured into the cups, words turning into an almost unintelligible mess near the end from the sheer speed at which you were talking. Your eyes don’t look up, part of you scared of what you’ll see if you do look or how you’ll feel. Hobie lowly exhales, blowing out the smoke from the side of his mouth. He lets one hand run down his face as he studies you and your body language. Fuck it all.

His thigh brushes against yours, causing you to look up. In that moment, it’s like something comes over him. Realization? Ignorance? Whatever it is commands him, right hand moving to your shoulder while his left cups your cheek, thumb rubbing over your bottom lip. There it is again, that look in your eyes. He’s gone, so gone. You’re stunned, rightfully so, staring into his eyes because you’d be foolish to ruin the moment now. On instinct, your lips part, like you want to say something, but nothing comes out. Rather, nothing needs to be said. He takes another hit before tossing the finished cigarette. One more sweeping gaze from Hobie before his lips are hesitantly pressing to yours. Like he’s afraid he’ll break you, break the moment. It’s so soft, not something you’d really expect from him, but he’s always been full of surprises. Both of his hands now cupping your face, bringing your lips closer against his, and then he exhales, pouring the smoke into your mouth. All the emotion you had been building up crashed back onto you at that moment, lips meeting his with slightly more passion. He pulls away way too soon, and you have to remind yourself not to chase after him when you catch yourself leaning in for more.

His eyes are wide, pupils blown like he shocked himself, although you’re sure your expression is quite similar to his. A smile begins to tug at his lips, and almost immediately, his lips are connecting with yours once more. Your hands fly up to his shoulders as he leans into you, eyes fluttering closed. It starts slow, hesitant pecks turning into heated open-mouth kisses. Everything is spinning, and you can already feel the insistent buzz in your head from the alcohol. You ignore it, choosing to focus on the way Hobie’s hands slide from your face to your shoulders, brushing down your arms, and then settling on your waist. His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin. It’s all surreal; the guy you’ve been pining for finally giving you what you’ve been craving. You pull back for air, gasping and opening your eyes to meet his gaze. Gorgeous, that’s the only way to describe him; stars reflecting in his eyes making them glisten and sparkle. Your lips move back to his, impatient and ready to continue. He stops you, using his grip on your waist to move you up onto his lap, making you straddle him. His thumb is back on your lips, pulling down your bottom one slowly and then crashing his lips against yours once more.

It’s fervent, tongue quickly swiping over his bottom lip. He obliges, parting his lips until you’re both swapping spit with an alcohol index high enough to get each other drunk just off kisses alone. Your hands move from his shoulders to his wicks, tugging him impossibly closer to you. The heat of the water only spurs you on, skin wet with condensation and intense passion. After a bit, he begins to pull away once more; his chest rising and falling in time with his rapid heartbeat. Pressing his forehead to yours, he plants a chaste kiss to your spit swollen lips, hands stilling on your hips, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“Y’know, you’re not a bad kisser, luv,” he muses, fingers moving to hoist you up further on his lap, newfound proximity allowing you to rest your hands on his chest right under his collarbone.

“You thought I’d be bad?”

“No–” He’s cut off by the feeling of your slick lips pressing to his lower neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses there and sucking lightly. You’re determined to prove him wrong. A shiver runs through him, hands once again squeezing at your hips. Your lips make their way up his neck until you’re mouthing at his jawline, hands pawing at his chest. He should’ve done this sooner. If he only knew you’d be so eager.

So the night stretches on, passion dulling down into a domestic sincerity. Skin to skin contact, shared whispers of nothing, and quick kisses in between conversations. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been waiting for this since the moment you saw him, calculating the probability of getting with him as soon as he dropped you off at your class that day. So in hindsight, you should’ve known that it would end like this; it’s the one question that scares every boy off, but after spending the last nearly two hours cuddled up with him, you thought that maybe it would be different. Maybe.

“So what does this make us?”

“And then!?” Yaz asks, knees pulled to her chest as she sits on her bed waiting for you to continue your recap.

“And then nothing!” You groan, flopping down on the bed next to her, staring at her ceiling. Her dog barking equally as loud as you had groaned, like she really shared your sentiment.

“An hour ago, I was making out with him like no tomorrow, one of his friends called him into the house, then that was it! He was gone as if nothing had happened! No goodbye kiss, no answer to my question! I poured my heart out to him!” You roll over, pressing your face into Yaz’s pillow and resisting the urge to scream and/or cry in frustration.

“So he was jus’ gone? That doesn’t sound like him at all. I think.” She looks over at you, sighing and patting your back in consolation.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean anythin’ by it. You’ll probably go to school and find he was plannin’ to ask you out, innit? Wouldn’t tha’ be great?” It would be if that were the case, but it’s so painfully obvious that she’s only saying it to cheer you up.

“But I thought I was finally making progress, cracking his shell and learning more about him. Turns out I was only making a fool out of myself. It was probably a dare from his stupid friends! Of course, he wouldn’t go after me, not after that whole thing with your brother.”

“Not even Kai can tear down Hobie’s walls. Don’t take it personally, girl. Boys are emotionally unintelligent all the time! Hobie might be different from most boys, but at the end of the day, he’s still a male. He’s not one to fuck around like tha’, I’m tellin’ you. You’ll see. He takes relationship stuff seriously, like to heart. Get it? To heart? Cause the heart is the symbol of a relationship?” she laughs, jostling you playfully in hopes of cheering you up.

“Sooo funny, Yaz, totally helping,” you respond, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Tough crowd. What I’m trying to say is that if anything, he was just showing you that whatever is going on between him and Kai isn’t stopping him from being with you. I really don’t think he’d lead you on, promise.” Her voice is sincere, more sincere than you’ve ever heard before. You laugh a little, finding it crazy that you’re even in such a situation. When you first transferred, you were so sure it would be a regular, boring school year, yet here you are, having a sleepover and obsessing over one of the most complex men on earth.

“I’m just sayin’ if they fight, Hobie would chin Kai instantly,” Yaz mentions casually, imitating some fighting moves with her puppy. Again, you laugh. How does she manage to make you feel better every time?

“I’ll take your word for it.”

I’m sorry. I want to be with you, but you have to know I’m Spider-Man

​

“Fuck. Can’t send tha’ to her. It has ta be in person.”

Thank you so much 4 reading hope u all enjoyed!!

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