Average Single Dad Experience 🧘🏻

summary: steven ‘accidently’ messages you after you’ve broken up.

pairings: ex! steven grant x ex! reader, allusions to ex! marc and ex! jake as well

warnings: literally just angst :( and very minimal cussing

word count: 870 words

a/n: sooo this is the first small part of a series based on ex! moon boys. will have everything from angst, angst and angst, to pining, forced close proximity and hopefully fluff!!! enjoy :) similar fic here (could be considered another part ig)

Surely it was an accident.

The message shone on your screen, illuminating a small portion of your dark room that the sun had not yet reached, eyes squinting with the unwelcoming light. You had blinked once, twice, harshly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes to ensure this wasn’t a cruel trick your mind was playing.

But it was still there.

Hi.

The message was so simple, a single word. But your heart was pounding, and your mouth was dry. You could imagine him saying it. Could still feel the warm embrace of his breath against the top of your head as he whispered the word, and you knew you were home.

Steven had messaged you. But why?

Keep reading

The Goldfish Problem

screaming crying throwing up

Blorbo thought of the day #5

Repetition: (Marc Spector x reader)

A/n: a little fluffy blurb 🥰 Starts with angst but Marc provides comfort and it’s lovely because he is lovely.

Warnings: (Reader has some abandonment / self-esteem issues, canon typical allusions to Marc’s past, implied off-camera sexy times) Not proofed!

GIF by @anhandfulgirl18

“You a’right?” Marc asks you in his gruff morning voice as your sigh billows dolefully against the bare expanse of his chest. The room is golden hued with sunlight, bright and easy, and your mood as you wake certainly does not match it.

“Bad dream,” you explain curtly, deepening the niggle in your brow. “Just thinking.”

Marc crushes his chin to his chest in an attempt to get a better look at you. Smooths a warm, broad hand down your bare back, the gnarled patterned sheets pushed down around your middles. “What dream? What are you thinking?”

You stiffen, snapping out of your gloomy mood a little as you realise that you’ve been awake for a mere 30 seconds, and yet you have already managed to make his voice sound like that. Despondent. Taut with concern.

Your head still resting on his chest, his heartbeat thudding steadily beneath the shell of your ear, you let your fingers dance lightly over his pec, trailing in slow, repeating circles, round and round. “It’s just….” The words feel too big to come out, like there’s a traffic jam in your throat when you try to say it out loud.

It’s stupid. You know it is.

“What?” Marc encourages, whisper soft, his voice and his hands as gentle as the slip of fresh golden sun into the room.

You push yourself up. Lie on your front next to him, propping your chin on your fisting hands. Despite the tension roping through you, looking at Marc instantly makes you smile, even if the gesture itself is a subdued, somber sort of thing.

You reach up and ruffle his thick, dark strands with the rake of your fingers, fondly combing the tendrils back from his forehead, and he hums for you, low and soft.

God. This man. He always looks especially beautiful on a morning. The mussed, chaotic curls. The shadow of stubble darkening his jaw. The way he fans his long lashes, attempting to blink away the bright morning, always a complete snuggle fiend and wanting to lay in the dark with you just a little longer. The glisten of his Magen David pooled in the hollow of his throat, bobbing there as he swallows. His skin bare and warm and his natural scent not yet polluted by his morning shower.

You don’t think you could ever tire of this sight.

“It’s nothing. Not really. It’s just… Every now and again I get this… horrible gnawing feeling. Like one day you’ll… I dunno. Get bored of me?”

That wakes him up, and for the second time this morning you feel guilt writhe your belly. Marc, meanwhile, looks at you with a pure concern. Gaze flitting over you. Examining you as though you’ve been severely wounded - and he’s only now seeing it. “What do you mean?” He moves, the surprise animating him, and he shifts his elbows backwards to prop his torso up. His necklace elongates, settling into place in the valley of his shapely chest, and his mop of curls flopping once again over his forehead. “Honey. How could I ever?”

You play with a little bit of lint on the bed covers, suddenly intent on it. Retreating away from Marc’s intense, searching stare. “You know. You could. Maybe. From the repetition of it.” Your voice cracks like sun-baked earth - as though the golden morning has already dried you out. “You could get bored. Waking-up next to me every day? Hearing me talk about the same stuff all the time? Fucking me, over and over.”

At that comment, Marc’s brows knit and raise in the middle. His tongue fleets along his lower lip, his mouth turning down at the corners. God, those puppy dog eyes of his never get old.

“But you know I love fucking you over and over, shortcake.”

You shake your head softly. Self-conscious around him, and you have no idea why. “Marc.”

With the wet way you say his name, Marc turns immediately on to his side, still propped up on one elbow, his muscles popping as they bear his weight. And, his freed arm just as immediately is reaching for you. Fingers trailing down your back. You look at him and he looks pained. “Did I… Did I do something to make you think that-“

“-No.” Shit. You shouldn’t have said anything about it. Marc gets so in his head about these things. Always blames himself, as though, if you’re insecure, it means that he isn’t doing a good enough job of loving you. In fact, that could not be further from the truth. “No, Marc. I promise. It’s…” You sigh out a long breath. “It’s just how I feel sometimes. Like eventually, you’ll realise you want someone else. I mean, if I were you, I’d get tired of me too, you know? Sometimes it just feels… inevitable.” Your final word is so heavy that is weighs the tears that pool in your eyes, and yet, even through the blur, you risk a glance up at Marc again.

His palm comes to cradle your cheek. His eyes shine steadily on you. Even glint with an unexpected amusement, despite the situation, which you don’t yet comprehend.

“Baby. Do you never think about who you’re talking to, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. I love repetition. Same thing, over and over? Fucking heaven.”

Your insecurities press you to dispute his statement, and your mouth even drops open to counter him; but, actually, when you think about it…

Marc?

This guy?

The guy who eats the same thing everyday for breakfast, except on Saturdays? Who does all of his tasks in the same way, in the same order, every time? Who watches the same three movies on repeat any time he gets a chance? Who buys four of the same shirt so he rarely has to change it up?

“Yeah. Okay,” you concede. “But, why though?Because it’s… easy? Convenient?” That’s not what you want to be for him.

Marc caresses your cheek with his palm again, gaze flitting fondly over your face. He frowns, like he’s never really thought about the why before. Because it had never really occurred to him to think about it. “No. Not exactly. I guess because… It makes me feel… safe.”

“Safe?”

Safe. Is that what you are to him?

“Yeah. Safe like…”

Not like home. Not like the place that never was; safe.

Safe, like the jumper you knitted him, maybe. Safe, like repeating stitch after repeating stitch wrapped around him, keeping him warm.

Repetition as comfort. Routine as the home he never had, built for himself, block by block.

Like that, maybe? Or, like something else?

You swallow harshly. “Safe like… boring?”

“No,” Marc says calmly, still thinking. “No, baby.”

Then, he moves. Crawls on top of you until his nude body is covering yours, boxing you in all safe.

You see the effort plainly in his face. See from the weight in his brow that he’s painstakingly searching for the right words. That he’s reaching for a way to make you get it. Searching for something which he knows for certain you’ll truly understand. “Safe like…” A lightness settles over Marc’s face as he lands on the very thing. Something you can both understand. No chance of misinterpretation. “Safe like… how Steven makes you feel, you know?” Then, he cocks his head to the side, a slow drag of a smile inching, lopsided, over his plush mouth. “Except, in a less brotherly way. Obviously.”

You can’t help it. You tear up. You know what Steven means to Marc. That Steven represented the first time Marc had felt loved. Protected. That Steven made you feel that same way too. “I really make you feel like that?”

Marc’s eyes glow softly with a smile, crinkles appearing around his eyes, since he’s finally beginning to make you understand. “Yeah. Now you’re getting it. And hey. You’d never get sick of that, would you?”

You wouldn’t. “Never.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your lips. Buries his face in your neck, lips sliding tenderly down the column of your throat. Holding you tightly, his body covering you. He kisses along your collarbone, his tongue laving there. “I’ll never be bored of you.”

“Promise?”

Marc props himself up on his forearms, boxing you in either side of your head and nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours. “In a thousand lifetimes? I’d love you over and over and over and over.”

Finally, you submit a watery smile to him, releasing your sadness and your fears and your tension. Wrapping your arms around him and pulling his mouth down to yours for a deep, tender, loving kiss.

“Well,” you suspire when you break for air. “Then I suppose I like repetition too.”

“Oh yeah?”

You kiss the tip of his nose and his face crinkles with a delicious smile. “Yeah. Because I wanna wake up beside you every single day, Marc Spector.” He smiles in awe at you, eyes glistening with unadulterated adoration and you kiss along his jawline. “And sometimes Steven or Jake too,” you add as an aside. “That I’ll allow.” Marc’s face splits into a beaming smile. “Now, kisses for you all.” You grasp his face in your splayed hands and plant three kisses in turn. One on the cheek, one to the centre of his forehead, and one on his lips, which is all for him.

Marc’s eyes flutter closed as your kiss puckers against him. “Now, get off me, will you?” you tease fondly. “I’ll get us some breakfast. I’m gonna need you fuelled-up.”

“What for?”

“For all of the repetitive fucking we’re about to do.”

Marc flips obediently on to his back, folding his arms behind his head and baring himself entirely to you as you sway -naked- towards the kitchen. “Oh, is that right?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, shortcake.”

You are. You’re feeling much better thanks to Marc and the way in which he loves you - which, you’re discovering, never gets old.

“What are we having?” he asks as you begin to raid the cabinets.

“The usual.” you glance towards him, a smirk on your mouth. “I mean. If that’s okay with you.”

He smiles softly at you in return. “The usual sounds perfect.”

It’s funny.

Marc always did love a little repetition.

lets just say that they would *not* get along

ok, confession time.

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

summary: confession time ٩( ᐛ )و

warnings: none.

a/n: I caved…

“Alright, hear me out.” “No.”

Miguel interrupts without missing a beat. You scoff as you watch him turn his back to you as he refocuses on the many projectors in front of him. “All that technology is going to rot your brain,” you mumble out under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. Anyways,” you curl your two middle fingers inward towards your palm as you direct a web to the floating island Miguel was on. “As I was saying, hear me out.” You hear a distressed sigh coming from the man in front of you but decided to brush it off. He was going to hear you out.

He remained silent, an indirect indication for you to continue your thoughts.

“Being stressed all the time is going to do no good for the spiderverse.”

“Arachnoid humanoid poly multiverse.”

“Yeah, that, so as I was saying… having one dinner wouldn’t doom the multiverse.”

Another sigh was let out this time, but this time it was out of exhaustion. He calls out your name causing your back to straighten as he finally turns to face you.

“The fate of the multiverse,” he begins before getting cut off by a web, coming from you, connecting with his torso and jerking him towards your direction.

He tilted his head at you once you stopped pulling him closer, leaving probably three centimeters of space between you two.

He wasn’t surprised by this action, no, you’ve done this multiple times. Pulled him too close for comfort, causing all logical thoughts in his brain to short circuit as it filled with thoughts of you.

You could hear his heartbeat. It’s one of the pros that come with being a spider person, your heightened senses. In moments like these where your own heartbeat was far too hard for you control you’d rely on his to calm you down, however it seemed to have done the opposite.

Why was it so fast?

Hearing your name managed to take you out of your momentarily dazed self.

“Is everything alright?” Miguel, whose body was practically leaning on yours, lightly shook you for he was disturbed by your suddenly quiet self.

“Yeah,” you replied far too quickly as you forced yourself to take a few steps back to create some distance between you two.

“Anyways,” you stuttered out, “I was just going to say how you always loose me whenever you start talking about the multiverse. Yeah, always manages to make my brain shut off.”

Miguel stared at you confused as you start to awkwardly ramble on about how the very premise of the multiverse is strange.

“And it’s so weird how technically-“

“Stop talking.”

You immediately close your mouth.

For the third time tonight, Miguel lets out a sigh as he closes the distance between the two of you. One second your mouth is opening to question why he’s taking more steps than necessary, and the next it’s occupied by the mouth of his.

When you don’t push him away and instead lean into his body, his hand travels up to your neck and his thumb presses against the area where your adams apple would’ve been to tilt your head up slightly more.

The one to end the kiss first is you, Miguel attempts to follow and close that distance once again but gets interrupted by the hand you put on his chest to stop him.

For a second Miguel starts to think he read the entire situation wrong. But you leaned into him so what does that mean-

“Miguel,” you begin saying softly and you looked up at him, “how did you know,” when he gives you a blank expression you let out a small snicker before continuing, “that I liked you.”

He tilts his head again as he looked down at you, “You thought I wasn’t able to sense your heartbeat? Cariño, even though I don’t have the spider sense that you have, my senses are still heightened.”

“Oh,” you say dumbfounded. Right.

“Yeah,” he says quietly as he tries to kiss you again.

“Wait,” you interrupt. “So, do you…like me too?”

“…We just kissed.”

“Yeah but, friends with benefits exist-“

Miguel groaned as you began to ramble on about how kissing doesn’t mean requited feelings, and while he understood what you were saying he’d much rather feel your lips on his than watch them speak about a scenario that wasn’t the case with this situation.

“Ok, then how about we get dinner.”

You widened your eyes at his words, a smile threatens to show on your face but you try to keep your composure, “…Ok. So…is this a date?”

“Yes,” he exhales, “Yes, it will be a date.”

“Ok.” You say excitedly before connecting a web with the ground beneath you two and jumping down, “See you in…?”

“Does thirty minutes sound good?”

“Yeah,” you start to smile, “yeah, thirty minutes sounds good.” You give him an actual smile before turning around getting ready to run through the halls of hq to tell Peter and Mayday all about this interaction.

“Ok,” Miguel says under his breath as he watches you leave.

“Why are you so awkward?”

“Lyla shut up.”

they need to invent a specific word to describe the GRRGHGAHGA RYRURGUGR AURURGRHGR. GGRGGRGRGRHGHAVAGGHRRUGRUGRHRGHRGHRGHR AGHAGHRGHGRHRGHRHA NRURGAHGAHGRHGHR emotion you get when you think about a special interest or hyperfixation too hard. nothing that currently exists gets it

:))))))

Broken Promises

Summary: He loved you more then anything in this broken world, but did you feel the same for him?

Pairings: Hobie Brown x Toxic Fem Reader

Warnings: Drifting relationship, angst, cheating, love sick hobie, crying, lack of nourishment, heart break, slight obsession, unhealthy attachment, break up, mentions of sex

Hobie brown was your boyfriend, and he loved you. It was more then just love though, the feeling he felt wasn't able to be put into words. It was a pounding in his chest, a rush of adrenaline into his veins. A tapping of his feet, and a passionate, rapid, but soft and rushing feeling in his heart for you. It was a kind of passion that was above all others, higher then lust and love itself. It was something else, something he couldn't quite place at the moment. A feeling that felt like colors mixing and churning into one you've never seen before, a feeling you couldn't describe very well. You could call it love, or passion, but it would never truly grasp the full feeling or meaning of it.

But you didn't quite feel the same, though you did care for him. You just didn't love him, you wanted to be with him, to hold him in your arms but you felt that there was someone out there who was…better? You knew it sounded like such a horrible thing to say, so you never told him. Hoping you two would drift on your own, but that wasn't quite working out for you.

But he still loved and cherished every second he spent with you. He made sure of it, he didn't have much. He was alone in this world, but then you came into his life. You were the sun in the morning, giving him warmth and reminding him it was a new day. You were the moon at night, guiding him as he flew through the air, and reminding him to rest.

You were the light in his life, he made sure that you knew how important you were to him. Kissing you goodbye before he left every morning, cuddling you the second he got home and wrapping you into his strong arms. Kissing you down your neck softly as you giggled and smiled, telling you how much he missed you and was thinking about you the whole time.

It was a wonderful life for him, he had something to look forward to at the end of the day. Someone to remind him of how amazing he truly was and about how loved of a person he is. He loved you with every fiber of his being, every breathe he took was out of love for you. He stayed strong because of you, he was excited for another day because you were gonna be there.

He had fallen hard for you, plummeted down to the ground kind of hard. He had forgotten what it was like to come home alone and be without you. He never wanted to live that kind of life again, in fact he was scared. That was why fear filled him as he noticed the way you distanced yourself.

When he came home now, you weren't there. Out with your friends or working late to meet some stupid deadline you made up. But when you were home it was like talking to a machine, giving him the same 2 answers for every question.'How was your day love?' - fine: "Do you wanna cuddle?' - 'no' Did you do anything interesting today?' - "no"

You were right next to him, yet so so far. Where had his sweet girl gone? Lost in the chaos maybe, or did she slip away while he wasn't looking? Nonetheless it didn't feel the same, it felt like 2 puzzle pieces trying to fit together, but breaking in the process. Two magnets that lost their friction but stayed near, just in case they got it again. You'd been together for about a year now, yet it felt like he didn't know the girl he slept next to every night. Why was that?

Was it something he did? Had he forgotten something important? He wasn't one to forget anything about you, he remembered everything about his girl. Her favorite dress, the kind of noddles she liked, her favorite way to wear her hair, the names of every cousin she had, every single thing you told him he remembered. Because he didn't want to forget even the smallest things, because he knew they were important to you. He just wanted to make sure you felt loved and appreciated, he needed you to know just how much he loved you, and that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon without you by his side.

It had been a tiring day at work for him, new bruises and cuts making their way across his body as he came home. He was exhausted to say the least, sweat dripping down his face as he turned the key in the door knob and pushed into the house. His ears perked up at an unusual noise coming from the bedroom. He threw his bag on the couch and stalked over to the door. His ear pushed against it as his heart dropped, the sounds of soft moans and bed creaking was what he heard.

His world crashed down to the ground, breaking and cracking into smithereens. It felt like knives were being stabbed into his soft heart, hands clawing inside of him and ripping it out, just to throw it into the trash and call it a day. His legs were starting to feel limp as his shaky hand went to turn the bedroom knob. The door slowly pushing open as his eyes laid on a man over you, naked, clothes thrown to the sides of the bed. In the bed he owned, in his room, inside of his apartment. What the fuck were you doing?

He fought back the tears inside of him, staying strong as he glared at the both of you. A loud huff coming out of him as he looked at you with disgust. All the time he put into this relationship, all the love he thought you two shared. Gone in an instant. 'Get out now' he demanded, his voice was calm, with a danger behind it at the same time. He wasn't playing around when he pointed out the door as you got up, the man rushed out right away, leaving you two alone. Shame filled you as you quickly put your clothes back on, making sure not to make eye contact with him.

He watched you the whole time, trying to make his anger rise, but sadness and betrayal only filling him more as he watched the girl of his dreams walk out on him. He didn't want you to see him cry, he didn't want any of this to happen, he just wanted you. But he followed behind you nonetheless.as you walked out of his apartment. Shutting the door he locked it, no words being spoken as he looked down at the ground. Tears finally prickling at the sides of his eyes as he let out a low sob, hands making their way to his face. Tears began streaming down his cheeks, as sobs filled his empty apartment.

He didn't go on missions for about a month, cooped up in his tiny apartment letting his guitar collect dust. He ignored the pain he felt, all the love he showed you seemed like a distant memory now. But it only made it worse, his webs were getting lower, caused by his lack of eating or drinking.

He just sat at the table and looked through all the things you left with him, your phone charger, those pink gem covered forks you used at every meal splayed across the kitchen table as tears flooded his eyes. He didn't know why he kept looking at them, it just made him feel worse. But it reminded him of you, so he ate them with every one of the few meals he had. Hands gripping onto the speckled silverware as he trembled to put the food past his chapped

lips.

He hummed that song he wrote for you where ever he went, the words seeming like codes embroidered into his dna. His clothes were thrown to the side as he took his socks off and placed them in the hamper. He stepped into the shower finally, after weeks of laying in his bed and staring at the photos you two shared. He smelled horrid, the stench of tears and sweat stains engulfing him and making up his aura. He turned the shower to the hot setting, steam catching on the mirror and fogging it up. He reached next to him for shampoo, just to be met with the strawberry scented one you had left. That light pink colored bottle with strawberries printed under and around the label silky hair has never been better' in white modern font. He stopped in his tracks as he stared down at it, lips parting as they began to quiver. The water shot onto the side of his face as he stayed frozen, trying to make sure it was really the one he thought it was. Quickly he opened the bottle and inhaled the scent, a small smile dancing onto his lips. It smelled just like you, that heavenly scent you carried everywhere. The same smell he inhaled every morning when you woke up next to him. It warmed his heart, just another way to make it feel like you were still here.

So he kept it, using it on his own hair during every shower he took. He just couldn't get rid of you, you meant too much to him. He still had your perfume sprayed on his jacket, he kept it safe, scared the smell would drift off just like you did. It had a special place in his closet, all the way to the far right, next to his boot cut jeans. A place just for you, a place that wasn't going to be taken, a place that would stay for awhile longer, though it might've over stayed it's welcome he didn't mind, because it was for you.

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

rydal keener x reader

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤: slow and soft

warnings: angst, piv sex

word count: 0.4k

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

“Why do you have to leave” he complains in what could almost resemble a whine as his hips push languidly into you, as he holds tighter onto your intertwined fingers besides your head. Your free hand grabs the back of his head, burying into his soft, straight hair, pushing him down onto your face so your lips could meet.

You sigh into his mouth as his tongue slips into yours, that sweet feeling you know you will miss and long for the moment you will realize you’re apart for good.

You should have known it was a bad idea, falling in love with a man you knew you would have to leave eventually. 

“I don’t want to, believe me” you breathe out against his mouth once you pull away, brushing along his cheekbone with your thumb. “I’d stay by your side if I could” you nod, staring deep into his eyes as the inner corner of his eyebrows angled up in a weakened expression. "But Greece isn’t where I should be" you muttered under your breath, your own words making your heart break.

He grunts as he angles his thrusts deeper inside you, making you grab onto his bicep as your mouth falls open.

"You should– you should be by my side, it doesn't have to be about Greece" he declares before he lets out a strangled moan, squeezing your hand as his forehead presses against yours.

"And– give up the life you built here?" you ask, your hand traveling back up his arm, your thumb caressing the hollow of his neck.

"Yes." his answer is rushed, the idea of a second thought completely scratched. 

You chuckle, stunned by the absurdity of the possibility. Your heart still aches at the fact that he was ready to leave everything behind for you.

"I can't." you weakly admit as his head buries into your neck. “You’ll be okay without me. Find someone else, love her as much as you loved me, even more. I won’t be mad at you”

You feel his tears dampening your skin, his breath faltering in quiet sobs as he still continues to press light, gentle kisses to your skin as he thrusts slowly and deep into you. You bite down onto your lip as you feel your own tears starting to threaten your eyes and a knot forming at your throat.

The worst part of this is holding you tight knowing it's the last time he ever will, knowing you will be gone tomorrow.

—

as always please reblog and tell me your thoughts it helps a lot!!

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