#across the spiderverse x reader

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - jealousy

miguel gets jealous possessive after a new intern flirts with you this is part of the same universe as my call oneshot!

Being 2nd in charge of the multiverse is... honestly not that hard for you. It’s mostly just co-leading, and being a secretary. Lyla helps out a bunch, but sometimes, a sassy AI can only do so much. 

Jess informed you of a new intern she recruited. Apparently, he’s having his first day today, which means you’ll probably have to do a quick run-through of things with him later. 

For now, it’s your fated duty to sit with Miguel at his desk so he doesn’t get all pouty later. He starts huffing and puffing when you aren’t near, takes it out on the kids sometimes. 

Thanks to your suggestion, Miguel invested in a nice desk and swivel chair for the office, so now it looks more like an actual workspace instead of a maniac’s plot room. (either way, he his one lmao)

Since Lyla’s gone for the time being, you’re standing up on the office platform, tapping away at a multitude of screens. Miguel lays lazily in the office chair, swiveled up behind you to rub his face into your upper back, as well as run his hands along your tummy. 

“Hun, you gotta let go. I needa tour the intern.” You mutter, closing in on an ID photo of the recruit.

“No.“

“Well, if I don’t do it, then who will?“ You ask. 

“Jess.“

“She’s busy on her break. Pregnant women need breaks, you know.“

“Ugh. I don’t want you to leave.“ He whines. squeezing you tighter. 

You start squirming out of his grip, pulling his pinky off of your stomach. Inching away, you push Miguel away by his head. Reluctantly, he starts letting you go, lazily running his hands onto the skin of your hips and lower thighs before letting go. 

“I’ll see you in a bit, baby.“ You say, scuffing up his hair with your palm. Gracefully, you leap down from the platform, somersaulting onto the floor and skating out the exit. You hop over a few stray cardboard boxes. 

Miguel watches you stroll away, and fixes his hair back into place. 

Lyla magically appears, phasing in and out with a different sly look each time. She snickers, flickering all around Miguel’s head. 

“Whipped.“

“Shut the fuck up.“

. . .

Miguel’s blood starts to boil as soon as you roll in with that stupid, bastard of an intern. He’s too close to you for comfort, so close to his arm nudging yours... Miguel’s teeth start to clench, his fangs close to drawing blood from his mouth. He’s paying too much attention to you, there’s a vibe he gets that he hates to his core. 

Everything about him is aggravating; the blonde hair, the snarky smirk, all of it.  

“...and this is Miguel’s office!“ You say, gesturing your hand to the majority of the area. 

“Sweet, nice to meet the bossman.“

Bossman, his ass. Miguel would only ever let you call him bossman. 

“Miguel! Come down!“ You yell, and his heart warms in his chest. He turns around from his standing form on the office platform, eyeing the intern in order to scare him a bit. 

“Hey, what’s up man! Glad to finally meet the man behind the slaughter!“ The intern exclaims, his hands rested on his hips. 

Miguel fights every urge to both roll his eyes and tackle the recruit, keeping a somewhat straight face on. He chuckles a little, not a single trace of a smile on his face. 

“Heh, yeah? Excited to meet the bossman?“ Miguel taunts, but it looks like the intern can’t tell he is. 

“Heck yeah dude! Where do I start?“

Miguel starts nodding a little, plastering on a face smile, chuckling a bit...

Before he throws the entire office chair at the recruit. Not to hit you, though. He’d never, ever hit you. 

Instantly, the intern turns away, shielding his body with his hands. In the nick of time, though, you latch your webbing onto the chair, slinging it away to side before it could harm anyone. You cross your arms. 

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry about tha- MIGUEL!“ You scream. 

And he throws a literal file cabinet at the man. Again, you latch it out of way without problem. 

“What th'heck, man?! What’s your fuckin’ problem?!“ The intern yells, spreading his arms out. 

“My fuckin’ problem is you nagging my wife!“ He roars. 

“Wait a sec- she’s your wife?“

Miguel then  leaps down from the platform, chin held up high in a sinister glare. Slowly, he steps over towards the both of you, fixing his eyes on the intern the entire time. 

Miguel’s tall, really tall compared to the newbie. He pokes his finger to the recruit, leaning in real close. 

“Stay at least 5 feet away from my wife at all times.“ Miguel utters, and you kinda feel bad for the new guy. 

You cross your arms. “C’mon, Miguel. He’s literally new, take it easy on him!” You say back, and Miguel pouts, whines. Possessively, he reaches over to you, pulling in you in by the hip to try to soothe you. It doesn’t work, and you present yourself from giving into his needy touches.  

And then, you turn around back to the newbie. “Gosh, I’m so sorry about that! He’s usually not like this-”

“Man, fuck this.“ The intern exclaims, taking a few steps back in agitation. “Take me back home, I ain’t dealin’ with this shit!“

He storms off, kicking a stray cardboard box on the way out. 

“Aw, crap.“

“Finally.“

You swerve back around, hands on your hips. “Miguel, that was uncalled for.”

“Yes it was! He was smothering all over you!“ He yells, throwing his hands up in the air like it was the most obvious thing ever. 

“Well, now thanks to you, we lost a recruit.“

“One of literally thousands!“

“And now, there’s papers everywhere on the floor!“

“Shhh, honey, I’ll clean it up later.“

Ignoring your frown, Miguel finally pulls you into him, pressing your lower back into his own with a nose into your hair.

“I saw the way he put his arm around you. He was flirting with you too. Hated it.“ Miguel utters. 

“When?“ You ask.

“On the surveillance.“ He says, and you sigh. He’s right, the guy was flirting with you for a bit, but you chose to ignore it so you could get over with the tour faster. 

“Eh, he gave me the heebie jeebies from the beginning.“ You say, and Miguel automatically squeezes you tighter into him, a deep grumble bellowing from his inner throat.

“I’m never letting you tour anyone ever again.“ Miguel admits.

“After that? Go ahead.“ You scoff, and finally, he sighs in relief. 

He tries drags you back to the office platform again, but then forgets that he threw the chair, grumbling in regret. Instead, he just hovers behind you for the rest of the day, occasionally pressing a smooch to your head. 

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv lyla #atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #fluff #romance #x reader #reader insert #lyla #spiderman #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ THIS IS A LIFE, MASTERLIST !

⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆   ⸺   in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

⸺   PART ONE .

⸺   PART TWO .

⸺   PART THREE .

⸺   PART FOUR .

⸺   PART FIVE .

⸺   PART SIX .

⸺   PART SEVEN, ENDING ONE .

⸺   PART EIGHT, ENDING TWO .

gif credits.

#coming soon hehe #yandere #atsv #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miles morales #spiderman noir #hobie brown #yandere atsv #yandere across the spiderverse #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miles morales #yandere spiderman noir #yandere hobie brown #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miles morales x reader #spiderman noir x reader #hobie brown x reader #atsv imagines #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o’hara imagine #miles morales imagine #spiderman noir imagine #hobie brown imagine

[crackedpumpkin]

ɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ

Warnings: Mild spoilers for Across The Spiderverse, one (1) curse word, angst, unrequited love.

word count: 1, 545

[ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

In every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spiderman.

“Right,” You snort, closing the comic book in your hands and placing it back into the pile on Miles’s bed. He glances up from the comic he’s reading, raising a brow at your sceptical expression. 

“What?” He hums in amusement, casually grabbing a candy bar from his pocket and tossing it to you. It almost slips from your fingers, but you manage to catch it just in time with a playful eye roll.

“What’s so bad about Gwen Stacy ending up with Spiderman, anyway?” 

“It’s just,” you hesitate. Would he think it’s stupid? “It’s unrealistic. I mean, it’s nice that Spiderman has a predestined love, but it doesn’t mean that it has to go by the book, y’know? It’s his life. Maybe there’s a really rude and narcissistic Gwen out there in another universe.”

“W-well, what if there isn’t? I’m pretty sure that there are good Gwens out there.” You look at him curiously, wondering what’s got him so defensive. 

“What’s got your undies in a twist?” You chuckle at his earlier words, the tautness in his voice a surprise. Leaning back against the wall next to his bed, you kick your feet up to rest next to his arm, watching him frown and shove you off playfully.

“It’s nothing.” He tries to laugh it off, but the hint of nervousness in his eyes suggests otherwise. You narrow your eyes at him, watching him rub the back of his neck as beads of sweat form on his hand. 

He’s lying. Why?

“Okay,” You choose to say instead, letting him be as you turn away. Your heartstrings tug slightly at the wistful look in his eyes when he stares at the front cover of the comic you were reading earlier, the illustration of Gwen Stacy clear as day.

You know he’s hiding something from you, something big. Ever since last month, he’d been cancelling hangouts and study sessions, and he’s always coming up with new excuses to avoid hanging out with you. During the few times you get to meet him, Miles always has a hint of nostalgia in his words, a glint of longing in his eyes as if he’d rather be with other people.

It hurts. 

And it hurts even more when you planned to confess to him last week on the rooftop, only for him to show up hours late. He called you in a panic, apologies spilling past his lips before you promised you weren’t mad. 

On the other end of the phone, however, you throw away the letter you’d so painstakingly written for him, just for that day. All the words prepared were useless, fading into the corner of your mind when you heard his voice on the phone. 

“It’s fine,” You promised him countless times, hearing nothing but hesitance in his words when he checked to make sure it really was fine. Since then, you decided to squash down your confession, constantly procrastinating the day you tell him how you really feel.

“What about tomorrow’s bio test? You studied?” You ask, turning your head to see him freeze at the mention of the test he most definitely hasn’t studied for. He smiles sheepishly, silently pleading for you to share your notes with him. 

“You and me against the world, right?” He grins, holding out his hand for a fist bump as he sits on his bed from his lazy position. 

“Right,” You chuckle, grabbing the binder and notebook from your bag and handing it to him. You watch him flip through the pages fondly, eyes tracing the outline of his face and your gaze lingering on his lips.

You and him against the world.

It's always been you two for as long as you can remember. From the day you met in kindergarten to now, even as he stands in front of you in his Spiderman suit. 

You let out a disbelieving laugh, sitting down on your bed. Shocked doesn't even begin to describe how you're feeling right now. You come home from school and decide to drop by Miles’s apartment, waiting in his room with your feet propped onto his desk, only to see motherfucking Spiderman crawl into the room and pull off his mask to reveal your childhood friend (and the boy you’re in love with).

Miles had been keeping such a huge secret from you this whole time. You're ready to punch him - to scold him even, for not telling you earlier. He’s your best friend, but apparently, he doesn't feel the same way if he’s been hiding this from you. Aren’t you trustworthy enough? 

Aren’t you good enough?

His eyes are wide and filled with pure fear, hands trembling as he hugs himself, bracing his emotions for when you finally get mad. Your breaths are shaky, eyes flitting between him and the mask he holds in his hands. Flickers of anger begin to sink in, the claws of self-doubt sinking into your chest.

But a moment of clarity hits you. Miles didn't need a reaction right now. He needs you. He needs his best friend.

"Okay. Okay," You repeat through a slow exhale, looking up at him with a nod of acceptance. You simply gesture for him to sit down next to you. He does so without a word, automatically leaning his head on your shoulder like he always does when he's nervous and scared.

"You're not mad?" He asks softly. You shake your head, bringing his hand up to plant a soft kiss on his knuckles, ignoring the slight flutter in your chest as your lips graze against the skin.

To him, the action meant little, a comforting gesture used between you both since you were kids.

But to you, it means everything else. You try to push down the way your heart speeds up when his breaths brush against the exposed skin of your shoulders, hoping he won’t look up and see your gaze filled with pure love and concern for him.

Instead, you stare straight ahead at the window that overlooks the next few apartment buildings. The sunset is beautiful, auburn orange bathing the graffiti-covered concrete in a warm glow that has you wishing this isn’t the situation you’re in now. He tucks his head under yours, and your cheek presses against his hair, watching the sunset together. 

"I'm not mad," You promise in a soft sigh, feeling him finally relax under you. He mumbles out thanks, and you merely grin, pressing another casual peck on his hand, the both of you falling silent after.

And for once in the five years that you've grown to love him more than he'd ever know, this time, you're not lying. 

— — — — — 

It's the day of the celebration, a joyous occasion meant to act as a hallmark for Mr Morales’s promotion.

But Miles is nowhere to be found. After returning from god knows where he disappeared, he returns with a girl.

Gwanda is her name. You stare at the blonde hair, the strawberry-coloured tips catching your eyes. The colour looks pretty on her. Her nervous disposition only makes you slightly suspicious, watching her leave from a short distance away after Mrs Morales approaches them.

But judging from the look in Miles's eyes after his mom talks to him, you know.

The way he looks at her is different. He's never had such fondness in his gaze with you, much less watching you walk away with such regret. So you walk to him and hand him your drink which he takes a sip from, and pat his shoulder with a reassuring smile.

"Go." 

"You sure?"

"I'll be fine here. Besides, I’m sure I can handle a few hours of distracting your dad." You chuckle with a roll of your eyes, pushing down the pained pang in your heart at his bright smile. Every fibre of your being screams at you to grab onto his arm, to never let go. They scream at you to part your lips and let the words festering in your heart finally spill out.

But even as your eyes linger on him with a hollow grin, he doesn’t notice.

And that’s the difference.

"Thanks. Hey, you and me against the world, right?" Miles grins, placing a soft peck on your forehead. You bat him away with a faint smile, struggling to keep the tears from forming in your eyes. If he didn’t leave in the next ten seconds, you’re not sure you can no longer hold back your choked hiccups.

"Just come back to me, okay?" 

He nods, a silent promise lingering in the air between you both. To him, it's a promise of return, to come back safe.

To you, it's a promise filled with desperation, wanting nothing more than for your Miles to come back to you. For your Miles to see you in the same light he views Gwanda in. To see you the way he sees her. 

Maybe he was right all along. Maybe in every other universe, Gwen Stacy falls for Spiderman.

You watch him leave with an excited grin on his lips, taking a sip from your cup and wishing that the fizzy liquid could drown your sorrows instead.

And in every other universe, you wish it were you.

#across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse #miles morales angst #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n

[rahhhbananas]

✭ ✭ ✭ 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐍 ✭ ✭ ✭ ft. a lot of characters

summary. Y/n is very protective of his son (aka Spider Plush).

warning(s). He/Him pronouns, foul language, Hobie is a major bully

a/n. Y/n and Spider-Plush are the new Miguel and Lego Spider-Man

“He is a person! And you will treat him that way!”

The voice of Y/n welcomed the newly woken society. It was around 7 am, and a commotion had begun in Miguel’s office. As the sun lazily illuminated the sky, Miles groggily made his way towards Miguel's office, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. He couldn't fathom why there was such a commotion at this early hour. "Why is there so much yelling? It's 7 in the morning...!" he groaned, his voice laced with exhaustion. Miles walked through the door, greeting Gwen and Peter B. who were watching the scene amused. Miles looked to see Y/n in a heated debate with both Miguel and Hobie, although it was mostly Hobie, Miguel was sitting down, trying to sooth an incoming migraine.

Pavitr stood at Y/n’s side, cradling a….Spider-Man…plushie? “What is going on here..” Miles who was now wide awake stared at the situation, looking at Gwen for answers. Gwen responded with a chuckle “Get this…their arguing because Hobie skipped Spider-Plush in line for breakfast.” Gwen managed to say between fits of laughter. Miles gave Gwen a look “So, he doesn’t believe in consistency and he doesn’t believe in manners?” Miles watched Y/n, who looked like he was on the brink of committing murder, due to Hobie’s nonchalant face. Peter chimed in, catching a swinging Mayday “I don’t think he did it to be rude. Maybe because he likes getting on Y/n’s nerves,”

Jess who just walked in looked at Peter, “This early morning air finally gave you a brain?” She walked towards Miguel, handing him water and probably a headache pill. Miguel thanked Jess, looking up at the continuing argument. “Yeah..and how did Pavitr get into all this?” Miles questioned, Gwen laughed, for what seemed to be the 4th time “That’s even funnier! He’s trying to take Hobie to court,” Miles smiled, seeing the obvious amusement in the situation “Yeah, somehow he’s got a diploma in that stuff.” Jess chimed in from the computer.

“That’s not the fucking point, Hobart! My son deserves respect! You’ve made him cry!” Y/n gestures to the “crying” plushie, and Pavitr who’s nodding in agreement. Hobie scoffed “Cryin? He’s got a tear sticker on ‘is face! You’ve got yourself fooled!”. This was Miguel’s last straw, he finally flipped the table, literally, sending everything flying— including the cup of water, that Spider-Plush was now drowned in. Gasp filled the small crowd, the laughter coming to a halt to stare at Y/n who was breathing heavily, trying to calm down.

Y/n slowly turned, looking at the soaked Spider-Plush. The plush squeaked, comical tears spewing from its large eyes. Y/n turned to Miguel and Hobie— the latter raised his hands, in a attempt to prove his innocence, he instead pointed to the leader who sported a small bead of sweat, his posture straightened “Umm, that was an accident- I was trying to de-escalate the situation. My anger over took…” Y/n pounced on Miguel, not letting him finish his sentence. Miguel tried to pull the other off his face, stumbling around while knocking things over.

“I-it was an accident!”

“YOU HORRIBLE PERSON!”

“GAAH! WHERE DID THESE CLAWS COME FROM?”

“DON’T….WORRY ABOUT IT!”

“JESSGETHIMOFFME!”

“Sorry, Miguel. I’m not getting into this fight.”

“APOLOGIZE OR SUFFER!”

“AHHHH!”

The crowd watched in silence as Miguel walked out with a bucket on his head, drenched in water. Y/n, on the other hand, walked out cradling his son, the plush wrapped in a towel, Y/n cooed trying to calm down the squeaks emitting from the plushie. Y/n walks up to the group, staring directly at Hobie “Hobart. My lawyer will contact you.” Y/n pointed to Pavitr, and somehow the teen was in a suit. Hobie chuckled, “Fair enough.” Hobie looked at Gwen “Gwendy. Ya down to be my lawyer?” Gwen shook her head “Nope, your not dragging me into this.” Hobie sighed in defeat “Alrigh’ Miles, see ya in a suit on Tuesday.” Hobie shook said boys shoulders, before running off, leaving the boy no time to complain.

Y/n looked at his boyfriend, tutting his head “Fine. Miles. You wanna play that game? Helping my enemy!” Y/n groaned, pulling shades from seemingly nowhere, while also putting them on “I want my child support by Friday,” Y/n said, striding away, Pavitr shuffling after him, the stuff suit preventing him from running.

Meanwhile, Miles stood shocked “Child support? Wha…what is he talking about!” Gwen shook her head disapprovingly “Come on Miles, don’t play dumb, take responsibility.” She advised before departing, leaving Peter who shook his head as well “Don’t worry kid, we’ve all been there..” Peter smiles, before joining the rest.

“Wha- what are you guys talking about!”

#male reader #cute #gay #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #miles molares #across the spiderverse x male reader #miles morales x male reader #hobie brown x male reader #gwen stacy #pavitr prabhakar #black male reader #marvel #miguel o’hara #peter b parker #maydayverse #spider plush #my son my son you are my shining sun #into the spider verse #into the spiderverse x male reader #viral #i love him #the plush #marvel x male reader #atsv x male reader

[yeagerfate]

seeing you without makeup for the first time

characters: miguel o’hara, miles morales (earth-1610), pavitr prabhakar, hobie brown, gwen stacy

warnings: none!

notes: thanks so much to @rulaineyu for letting me use this idea! check her blog out if you’re a genshin fan, her works are really well-written and entertaining! requests are open! thanks so much for all the love on my previous posts, it means so much to me!

To be honest, Miguel doesn’t even notice. You’d been as little fatigued, having been extremely overworked lately, and just decided not to. When you visited Miguel’s office, you almost wanted him to compliment you, though you knew that wasn’t what your Miguel was like. Something in his mind was telling him something was out of the ordinary, but he just ignored it. Finally, he realizes what’s actually different when he overhears you talking about it with Hobie, (he says he likes the inconsistency), and he feels so bad for not seeing it before.

The next time he sees you, he tells you that he thinks you look pretty. He doesn’t mention the make-up thing at all because he doesn’t want you to think he’s complimenting you just to please you. When your cheeks turn a little red, and you stutter when saying thank you, Miguel smiles to himself proudly.

It doesn’t take Hobie long to notice. Sometimes, he wears make-up to his concerts, so he knows the basics. It makes him happy to see your natural face for the first time. He thinks you’re beautiful, with or without make-up, and he tells you so. “Thank you,” You said. “I think you look handsome, too, with or without make-up.” He’s a bit more clingy, which surprises you, but he just likes to see you be a bit more vulnerable than usual. Hobie also enjoys talking with you about make-up, and what you like to use. He’s not new to it, but it’s always nice to get some tips so he can look perfect!

Miles can tell you’re a bit nervous about his reaction to something, but he doesn’t know what it is. He’s aware that you’re not wearing make-up, but he doesn’t think much of it. Miles is a bit naive when it comes to beauty standards and the makeup world, so he doesn’t really know how nerve-wracking it can be to not put on anything for the first time. As always, though, he tells you that he thinks you look lovely, which is always nice to hear. On a whim, he decides to ask you about it. “Are you okay? Is there something wrong? You look a little anxious.” You grin sheepishly and tell him you were just nervous about his reaction to you not wearing make-up for the first time because of the asshole boyfriend you had before him. Good luck! Miles will not be leaving you alone for the next week at minimum :)

Even though he doesn’t wear it, Pavitr loves makeup, so he definitely notices. As always, he gushes about how beautiful he thinks you are. He holds your face in his hands and studies the natural shade of your lips, your natural eyelashes… he thinks you’re a beauty. Like Hobie and Miles, I think he’d also be a bit more clingy and affectionate. The next time Pavitr comes back to headquarters, he raves about you to Miles and Hobie, who are both happy for him and a little uncomfortable. Oh well. They’ll just have to hear about it until he goes back home!

Gwen has done your makeup multiple times, for fun and for parties, so she knows. She’s already stopped wearing makeup around you occasionally, and you were extremely supportive, so she wants to be the same for you. However, Gwen is always a bit shy when it comes to vocalizing how she feels, so she’ll feel a bit anxious. She doesn’t want you to think you look ugly without makeup, but it’s a bit nerve-wracking for her to say what she wants so say. Eventually, she gains the courage to do so, and the way your eyes brighten when she does tell you how pretty she thinks you are is something priceless.

#atsv fluff #atsv x reader #itsv fluff #itsv x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miles morales fluff #miles morales x reader #gwen stacy fluff #gwen stacy x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar fluff #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #fanfiction #x reader

[qtkoshi]

hobie and his bubblegum s/o

- I’m sorry y’all no i’m not, but i am not immune to the preppy x outcast trope and i  - no i am not submitting to the idea of being a rockers gf leave me alone i absolutely am s/o to @dizscreams for prompting this idea never claimed to be a writer ;; im just ramblin

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

hobie brown wasn’t afraid to go against the common narrative. wasn’t afraid of many things, actually (as we know). he was loud, abrasive. tough. 

and then there was you. soft and all smiles. it was a little sickening to be honest: how someone so bubbly and sweet complimented him so well. 

but let’s not get it twisted, it’s not as if you were the one to round out his edges. despite the obvious clashes in personal style, you both carried similar ideologies in life, and in so carried a mutual respect in each other’s individuality and comfort. and what more could hobie really ask for in a partner? 

additional headcannons i can’t stop thinking of:

wearing his jacket casually around >> you’re in an all pink fit? don’t care, the jacket smells like him and he likes seeing you in his clothes (makes him proud to let others know your his not that he would conform to dated notions of ownership tho so shhh) 

omg swapping styles?? did it one time as a joke, now you both catch yourself wearing pieces incorporated into your outfits that remind you of the other. (cutesy metal flower and butterfly chokers?? modified spikes added onto your accessories???)

firm believer in this man being so so comfortable in his own self and masculinity. fuck do you mean i’ll look girly? give me the damn plushy rn

thinking of u possibly doing dance or cheer and? y’all both going to each other’s shows and sticking out like a sore thumb in the crowd, but neither of y’all give a fuck bc that’s your baby up there and man are u proud

patching him up with hello kitty bandages (which he thinks are cool as fuck).

the bubblegum is from u btw says it reminds him of u

making playlists for each other???? omg → actually have more overlap than ppl think; both love to explore genres (also helps that they’re ur fave songs, bc if u love them there has to be something gud about them right?)

this song with y'all actually

if u see me adding more on this later, don’t worry ab it

⊗

#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderpunk #hobie brown #me?? #writing???? #and thats the power of hobie babey #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #atsv #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderpunk x reader #hobart brown x reader #hobie۫ ִ✮

[spiderthesenutz]

SPIDER VERSE INCORRECT QUOTES!

Pavitr: Bro-

Y/n: No, no, hold up, rewind.

Y/n: My tongue was down in your throat just a second ago and now you're calling me bro??

————————————————————————————————————

Y/n: Are you trying to seduce me?

Pavitr: Why, are you seducible?

————————————————————————————————————

Hobie: *sees Pavitr and Y/n together*

Hobie: They're cute. I would put them on a boat.

Gwen: You mean... you ship them?

———————————————————————

Y/n, in a room with Pavitr, Hobie , and Gwen: It’s calm in here.

Y/n: It scares me…

————————————————————————

Hobie: Truth or dare?

Y/n: Dare.

Hobie: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.

Y/n: Hey Pavitr?

Pavitr, blushing: Yeah?

Y/n: Can you move? I'm trying to get to Gwen.

—————————————————————————————————————

Hobie : Why are Pavitr and Y/n sitting with their backs to each other?

Gwen: They had a fight.

Hobie : Then why are they holding hands?

Gwen: They get sad when they fight.

—————————————————————————————————————

Kidnapper: I have one of your friends.

Y/n: Which one? I have seven.

Kidnapper: The loud, annoying, rowdy one who never shuts up.

Y/n: Which one? I have seven.

Hobie, distantly: HEY!!!

—————————————————————————————————————

Y/n: I truly go into housewife mode when I'm someone's soulmate- like, I'll make you pancakes and bacon every morning.

Hobie: This is a lie.

Hobie: I'm literally dating them. This is a lie.

Hobie: THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK A PANCAKE, WHAT IS THIS.

—————————————————————————————————————

Hobie: There are 20 letters in the alphabet, right?

Y/n: Nope, there's 26.

Hobie: Ah, I must have forgotten U, R, A, Q, T.

Y/n : Aww, that's cute, but you're still missing one.

Hobie: You'll get the D later ;).

—————————————————————————————————————

Hobie: That was so hot, Y/n .

Y/n : I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenterate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets.

Hobie: I'm so in love with you.

—————————————————————————————————————

Pavitr: I am so cool. I am an absolute Chad. I am the epitome of coolness and awesomeness—

Y/n : Hi.

Pavitr: *melts down in a flustered heap of softness*

—————————————————————————————————————

Pavitr: So you like cats?

Y/n : Yeah.

Pavitr: *tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table*

#across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spider gwen #gwen stacy x reader

[fushigur0ll]

IN SICKNESS & IN HEALTH

꒰ ♡ ꒱ you’re sick! so earth42!miles takes care of you at..3AM

includes; kisses, fluff, sick talk, sweetness and etc

sequel ~ 24/7 surveillance

“babe..miles! baby!” you try, emphasis on ‘try’ to wake your boyfriend up but knowing the type of deep sleeper he is, you know he wasn’t bound to wake up this easy and your body was getting weaker and weaker as every minute passes by.

every night, miles swings to your house unless he’s already there and sleeps over for the night, cuddling you until you both fall asleep comfortably and once miles is comfortable then there’s no waking him up till he wakes up himself. you always enjoy it when miles comes over to sleep with you because that’s when you sleep 10x better and you just wish you could enjoy it like how you did the night before and any other night but sadly you’re sick and when i say sick i mean as, sore throat, stuffy nose, headaches, weak body, sore eyes- that death feeling sick and it’s horrendous. you even feel so gross even when you took a shower literally before you laid yourself on that bad of yours. you groan softly when a feeling like someone is knocking your brain down with a hammer passes by, your migraines getting stronger every time they come as well.

you sigh and look at your sleeping boyfriend again, poking his nose but the only response you get from his was snores and that made you let out a drawn out groan. you open your eyes, immediately feeling the pain from looking around the semi dark room, eyes landing on the red numbers you see on the nightstand of your clock reading ’3:00AM’ you blow raspberries and look around again before you stop at the door of the bathroom.

this was gonna be hard..you want to freshen yourself up again so you’d be comfortable once more but you can barley feel your legs and arms. you definitely felt like you’ve been drugged but you remember this isn’t the first time it’s happened. you exhale and try getting sitting up but you end up rolling and rolling till you literally hit the floor with a loud thump. “oh sh- owwwwww” you whine, squirming on the cold floor boards overwhelming your bipolar tempered body. you try getting up but at that point you give up and lay in a starfish position on the ground, just staring at the ceiling fan.

“….baby where are you” you hear a deep and tired voice , one you love and know too well so you sigh.

“on the floor” you croak, cringing at the sound of your voice. it was silent before you hear the bed ruffle and rustle, miles head popping up from the bed and looking down at you with low lidded eyes.

“you good ma?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and you shake your head slowly. “i’m sick” you frown and close your eyes.

he stares at you and takes an arm out, using his hand to feel your neck, head and armpit. his eyes widen a tiny bit when he does feel the heat literally emitting from your body. he takes his hand back and stretches, before coming off the bed and leaning down to pick you up princess style.

“ou- miles be careful my head” you whine, holding your head in your hands,

“ ‘m sorry mami” he mumbles and kisses your warm temple, walking towards the bathroom and turning on the light. you immediately close your eyes, the light irritating your eyes further. he murmured another apology and kisses your cheek this time. he sits you on the sink counter and you open your eyes slowly, getting used to the light and you look at your boyfriend. he gets a clean face cloth, drowning it in warm water from the sink and drains it so it’s warm and damp. he walks back to you, and steps in-between your legs to wipe your face softly and you just sit there allowing him too.

the warmth from the damp rag felt nice on your face. you ask him to wipe your arms, legs and chest and he complied, doing so with feather light touches. he finishes and throws the rag in the hamper, turning back to you and cupping your face.

“you hungry?” he inquires, looking into your eyes and you nod. he hums in response and picks you up again. he moves you both out the bathroom not without closing the lights off then downstairs to your kitchen where he turns the lights on in there. your eyes is used to the light by now but that doesn’t mean your eyes doesn’t hurt from looking around.

“i already feel myself getting sick” he jokes, earning a soft and playful glare from you. “at least i didn’t sneeze on you” he chuckles, his chest rumbling slightly.

“at least you didn’t..not yet i mean” he glances at you as he sits you on the counter again. “i’m sick and you gonna bully me right now?” you raise a lazy eyebrow making him cross his toned arms staring back at you with the same expression.

“of course” he smiles and you rolls your eyes. “what do you wanna eat?” he moves towards the refrigerator and you hum, thinking about what you’re really craving for.

“anything, what’s in there?” you ask, light swinging your weak legs back and forth

“..cheese, leftovers, cake- you’re not eating cake” he knows you too damn well. literally when you’re sick you’ll get anything else other then something that’s like soup or actual food and will go for the sweets instead. your eyes sparkle at the mention of cake but you huff and frown when he told your ass no. he snickers and continues to look in the fridge.

“i’ll make you some soup and yes it can be chicken noodle soup” he closes the fridge but not before getting a cup of water and sees you with a bright smile on your face that makes him feel warm inside.

“thank you~” you singsong, giving him kissy lips and noises.

“anything for you baby”

it wasn’t that long before the soup was made and done. steam rising from the bowl that the soup has been poured into. he gets a spoon and goes back inbetween your legs. he gets the soup onto the spoon, blows on it a few times before putting it close to your already open mouth.

“it’s a bit hot okay?” he mumbles and you nod, encasing the spoon and soup into your mouth. your stomach rumbles happily in response, loving the taste of the soup, noodle and chicken broth. you hum and sway side to side in happiness. he watches you, snorting and shaking his head.

“cute” he leans into peck your lips and you smile softly.

“feed me peasant” you demand and his face drops so fast making you burst into laughter, falling back slightly and all he does is just stares at you blinking.

“you’re so lucky you’re sick right now because i could tickle you right now and never let you up” he stoically responds, his eyes tracking your every move. “hehe the way your face dropped” you giggle and sit up properly, leaning forwards to peck all over his face making the corner of his lips move up.

“i’m sorry pookie butt” his face drops again and you howl in laughter again but this time you start uncontrollably coughing, holding onto your chest. this time it was him laughing at you while you glare at him as you fight for your life trying to catch your breath back.

“not too much on me now milestone- don’t even try” he cuts you off, mean mugging whilst you, again, start wheezing and coughing. “look at you loosing your life, sit up baby” he chuckles and gives you the cup of water which you generously take sips from.

you both enjoy the small moment, laughing, talking as he feeds you soup till the bowl was empty. you burp and excuse yourself, feeling your body get better and less weaker. you tell him and even so he pick you up like a princess and picks up the cup of water then walks out the kitchen then turning the light off on his way out.

“going back to bed now?” you ask quietly, watching his side profile and he nods, looking towards you and staring at you.

“my own stalker huh?” he jokes and smirks when he sees you kiss your teeth. “you needa stop playing with me boy” you playfully push his head away and he chuckles, making his way back in the bedroom and placing you on the bed then placing the cup of water on the nightstand.

“how you feel?” he asks, looking down at you. you stare back and smile brightly. “i feel slightly good as new thanks to you” you widen your arms and he climbs into bed, laying down and pulling you ontop of him. you get yourself comfortable, laying your head on his chest as listen to the beating of his heart. he wraps one arm on you and one hand to your thigh, holding you securely. it was quiet and peaceful, his hand rubbing up and down the soft skin of your thigh, looking up at the ceiling as he feels your hand move towards his cheek.

“hm?” he looks at you, leaning into your hand as you look at him admiringly.

“thank you for taking care of me” you whispers and rub his cheek. he smiles softly and leans in to kiss your nose and forehead.

“anything for my girl”

fushigur0ll © 2022 all rights reserved. do not plagarize, translate, or post to other sites please.

#—fushi’snotes #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #earth42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth42 #earth42 miles #miles morales #x black fem reader #x black reader #across the spiderverse x reader #miles morales x reader

[narcissistshandler]

giving miguel head while he explains complicated concepts of the multiverse. 😳 at first he chuckles when reader requests this, but he starts to struggle and lose track of what he was talking about. his voice becomes more desperate as he tries to explain all this stuff he knows to reader with his talons gripping at his love’s skull and his voice shaking and melting into pretty breathy moans until he can’t think of what he was talking about and instead fucks reader’s throat til he’s an overstimulated, sobbing mess

𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛 𝗠𝗘

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 gn!reader x miguel o'hara

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 blowjob (reader giving), deep throat, slight overstimulation at the end, reader has no gender or genitalia mentioned, a little of blood

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 This was in my drafts for two weeks and honestly I don't remember what/how I wrote half of it, but still, this request was delicious

"—Are you listening to me?"

You blinked, seeming to come back to reality and looked into Miguel's judgmental brown eyes.

"I've been speaking Spanish for the last ten minutes," he continued before you had time to speak.

"I am," you insisted. Your first instinct was to lie. The truth was no, you weren't paying the slightest attention to any of all that complicated science and physics coming out of Miguel's mouth, even though from the beginning your focus hadn't left his lips framing every complex and long word, occasionally rising to appreciate that expression of concentration on his usually serious face that shouldn't be so erotic to anyone but you.

Miguel's eyes fell to your lap, as if he could see through the pillow you were holding, his brow immediately frowning in that way that indicated his bad mood.

"So what is the simple concept of what constitutes a Multiverse?" he questioned, sounding so much like a hot, strict teacher that you felt your sex throb in response, too distracted to even try to think of an answer. "What are the ways to overcome the barriers that separate our world from other universes?" Silence. "What happens when there is a divergence in events? Where does the variety of these universes originate?"

You knew the answer to some of these questions as someone who had heard more than enough about this subject: the multiverse was nothing more than the aggregate of parallel realities and bla bla bla. But that wasn't what Miguel wanted to hear, he wanted concise, long and scientifically coherent answers and that's why you preferred to keep your mouth shut.

"You weren't listening," he concluded with a sigh.

"Keep talking, I'll pay attention this time."

Miguel looked into your darkened eyes, noting the warm innuendo in your tone and then once again, his attention fell to the pillow that covered your lap. "You're excited," he observed, then continued seeming disgusted and irritated: "Why? Physics does that to you?"

“You do this to me,” you said. Miguel's expression seemed to become even darker. "You always seem so focused and intelligent while talking about these things I can't understand, it's sexy."

"You were the one who asked me to teach you, I didn't know this was a fantasy of yours," he pointed out.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," you asked soflty as you got up from the sofa where you sat next to Miguel and fell to your knees in front of his feet, your hands running up his bare legs until they slid under the hem of his shorts. "Continue teaching me, please? I promise I'll pay attention this time."

Miguel half growled at you, not seeming too willing to indulge in your fantasies even as his legs opened in pure muscle memory to give you room to fit between them and desire flashed in his eyes.

"How are you supposed to pay attention to what I say with my penis in your mouth? That doesn't seem like a very concise teaching method." Even with you kneeling in front of him on the floor of the apartment's living room, Miguel seemed genuinely concerned about teaching you some real knowledge about multiverse.

You rubbed your hand against the bulge in his shorts to bring him to hardness, laughing a little at how genuine Miguel was sometimes.

"You talk, I listen, then you can test me to see if I really learned something or not."

Miguel opened his mouth, looking ready to retort with some argument, but your fingers fitting into the elastic waistband of his shorts was enough to make him swallow back his words. “Okay,” he agreed finally, lifting his hips off the couch to let you pull his shorts down his legs and discard them on the floor.

"Without underwear?" You inquired teasingly, your fingers closing around Miguel's thick cock that was slowly getting hard for you and pulling him into slow, steady thrusts.

Miguel sighed at the sudden touch, a light blush coloring his cheeks at the teasing.

"Back to the beginning," he started to say, ignoring your words. "When we talk about the Multiverse, this refers to a conception of multiple universes or parallel realities existing simultaneously. Together, these universes are presumed to comprise everything that exists: the entirety of space, time, matter, energy..."

Your tongue trailed in a wet line from the base to the head, interrupting Miguel's speech as he trailed off with a soft sigh.

That usual satisfaction made you smile between the licks you dragged along his length, feeling the pulsation of the bulging veins against your tongue, your fingers keeping his dick firm at the base. Your lips parted, gently sucking the side of the bulbous, red head where drops of precum were beginning to leak.

Miguel let out the most beautiful moan, one of his hands falling into your hair.

“Oh,” he sighed softly, voice already falling into that deep tone that always did things to you. You looked up at the same time you slid your tongue over the slit leaking from his cock; Miguel's eyes met yours, warm and shining. He took a deep breath and continued speaking: "In the concept of multiverse, a scheme is imagined in which... all universes aggregate each other across an infinite vastness..."

He looked so composed even with your mouth on his dick and you wanted to break that composure of his until it became nothing, until his mind stopped working and the only coherent thought he had left was fucking your throat.

Miguel doesn't stop talking when your fingers tighten around his length in a grip that borders on painful and your mouth opens so you can take his length. His cock filled your mouth, the warm, smooth skin sliding over your tongue and inward in a delicious, welcome weight that made your skin tingle. Almost instinctively, you searched for more, leaning forward and taking him deeper, your free hand feeling Miguel's thigh muscles tense under your touch.

Saliva pooled in your mouth and as soon as you pulled your head back, spit slid down his length to his heavy balls and a wet line ran down your chin, a mess you knew Miguel liked. As expected, his breathing stuttered and you saw him losing his train of thought at the sight of your saliva-glossy lips stretching around the thickness of his dick.

"...In addition to the state superpos- superposition property, there are many other phenomena that occur as quantum-scale systems, such as quantum tunneling, quantum e-entanglement..."

The firm fingers tangled in the strands of your hair suddenly became sharper, like thick needles scratching your scalp. The threat of the grab hung in the air, filling your stomach with a tense heat as you realized they were Miguel's deadly talons, which could penetrate through the fragility of your skin in seconds and even an accidental scratch could draw blood. This realization shook you to the core and a moan rose in your throat.

"... So you can connect gravity and the other three forces in an apparently firm way?" he panted, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Dios mío."

It took you a few seconds to understand the jumbled words that came out of his mouth, but when you did you knew that you had achieved your objective, as the argument didn't seem to fit into any part of the multiverse theory.

Tears blocked the corners of your vision, jaw opening wider to take Miguel's cock deeper, the tip slapping against your cheek and tongue before going deeper, and then more and more. The salty taste of precum, sweat, and something else you could only describe as Miguel's taste rising in the back of your throat, clouding all your senses and pushing away the urgency burning between your legs. All that mattered was Miguel.

At that moment, your entire world was just Miguel's body contracting on the couch under the heat of your mouth, the heavy leg he had thrown over your shoulder and his heel digging into your shoulder blade in an attempt to bring you impossibly closer. There was a distinct feeling of discomfort growing in your body, Miguel's grip was strong and painful, his rationality seemed to have dissolved under the pleasure.

"[n-name] [name] [name] [name], por favor." The beautiful moans of your name in his voice echoed through the room in repeated, stammered repetitions.

The gag reflex kicked in, the bulbous head of Miguel's cock pressing past the tightness of your throat. Your eyes closed in an attempt to fight the immediate instinct to choke and suffocate, the desire to give Miguel everything he wanted was stronger. You willingly obeyed the grip of the talons on your head keeping you still, your mouth falling open and easy for the deep thrusts.

Resisting him, the urgency with which his hips undulated, as if he needed the pleasure to breathe, felt equal to having at least one pulled muscle and a deep cut left behind.

Fortunately, fighting him was far from your intention.

You could feel as his dick twitched inside your mouth and the thick, salty liquid filled your throat, which rose and fell as you swallowed. Your eyes opened, tears running down your cheeks, you closed your lips around Miguel's pulsing length, sucking. Miguel's reaction was lascivious, his thrusts becoming erratic, whole body shaking violently, his talons sinking at least a few centimeters into your skin, until it breaks under the pressure.

Hot liquid ran down the back of your neck, the pain was a distant thing in your warm body, your fingers digging into the soft skin of Miguel's thighs as you pressed the nose against the curly hair of his groin. Miguel whimpered as his cock continued to spurt small jets deep down your throat, tears glistening in his eyes and fangs sinking into the lower lip.

You had lied again, you hadn't paid attention to anything he said, but it didn't matter since you doubted that Miguel remembered what even was a subatomic particle now.

#x male reader #x gn reader #across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x male reader #across the spiderverse x gn reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv x male reader #atsv x gn reader #atsv x reader #atsv smut

[teatoptony]

For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

-

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

-

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

-

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

-

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

-

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

#across the spiderverse #miles morales #anti writes spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles #prowler miles #miles 42 #miles morales x you #prowler miles x reader #prowler miles morales #earth 42 miles fluff #miles morales fluff #miles morales angst #earth 1610 miles fluff #earth 1610 miles morales x you #earth 1610 miles angst #earth 1610 miles x you #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #miles morales 1610 #1610 miles x reader

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - call

miguel calls you because he misses you

. . .

“Lyla.“

“Yah?“

“Call y/n.“

“What do we say?“

“Oh my god, just call her. Please.“

“You’re in your office, call her yourself.“

“Lyla!“

Lyla scoffs, flickering in and out in a flash of cream and pink. Miguel rolls his eyes, watching as a module is pulled up in front of him.

Lyla flickers in, pressing the obnoxiously green “call” button on the screen as Miguel subconsciously fixes his hair. The screen starts to dial, and Lyla chuckles to herself. 

“What?“ Miguel asks, crossing his arms together. 

Lyla’s hand runs up to her mouth. “Pfft. Nothing.“

And with that, she disappears. 

The screen dials for a few more seconds, and finally, you answer the call. A video calling of you, looking down at at the camera on your watch. You’ve got your spider suit on, chaos seeming to be crashing in the background as you zip through a metropolitan city with your webbing. 

“Miguel, baby, you know I’m busy.“ You say, the man watching on his screen as you simultaneously glace down the watch and look back up to swing your webbing against random architecture. 

“I know. Sorry.“ He says, and you look expectantly down at your watch. 

“Did you need something?” You ask, and your watch suddenly drifts over towards behind you, an anomaly chasing behind you. 

“How long will it take for you to be back?“ He asks, hand slithering to the back of his neck. Even from the shitty camera quality, you can see the slightest tinge of blush on his cheek. 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, sighing to yourself as you bustle through skyscrapers and towers galore. “Is this really was this was about?“

“Yeah, I wanna see you.“ He states. You watch as he starts tapping on the holographic screen, seemingly zooming in on a particular picture. 

You watch as Miguel already goes to grab his spider mask, clutching it in his hand while he taps at his own watch. “Where are you, honey? I can take them off your hands.“

“It’s fine, Miguel. I got it.“

“But I wanna see you.“

“You can wait a little longer, right? Jessica sent me out on this mission.“

“No. I’m going out there, where are you?“

You sigh. “Fine, I’m at Earth-681, Queens.”

“See you in a sec, hun. Love you, bye.“

“Love you. Bet I can finish this guy off before you can even make it down here-“

You hang up, and the call screen flickers dark. Miguel yanks on his spider mask, leaping off his office until...

“Wow.“

Lyla sputters in front of Miguel, laughing to herself in a doubled over position. She flashes in a few more times, each one a different frame of her laughing. Miguel tries to ignore her, speeding up into a run whilst tapping at his watch.  

“You’re really that whipped!“ She exclaims. 

“What does whipped even mean?“ Miguel asks, obviously annoyed. 

“You’ll find out later.“

“Hm.“

“Oh and, just so you know. That entire convo was recorded. Thanks!“

Miguel groans, and Lyla vanishes as soon as she came in. 

. . . 

Miguel dives headfirst into the inter-dimensional juncture, leaping directly into the skies of Earth-681. There’s millions of skyscrapers below, all of them almost identical to any other Earth he’s been on. 

He webs a nearby building, slinging himself through Queens in search of you. His spidey-sense picks up, detecting you to be in his far right. Faster than ever, he slingshots himself through buildings, his heart quickening in his chest at the thought of seeing you. 

Unexpectedly, you aren’t where you’re supposed to be. 

Miguel pauses himself onto the head of a gargoyle, eyes flickering left and right to try and find you. You’re supposed to be hugging him, kissing him, teasing him about dates and what not. 

“Boo.“

Miguel doesn’t even flinch, but he’s more excited than ever to see you. He misses you so much. 

You laugh to yourself, taking a few steps forward to Miguel. He rolls his eyes, and you can even see it through his mask. 

“Haha, very funny.“

“I know, I’m the funniest.“

“C’mere.“

Miguel wastes no time, hastily tugging you into him by your waist, until you’re close enough to hear his heartbeat. You tug your mask off, revealing the face that Miguel knows and loves. 

Tenderly, the man presses you into a kiss, savoring the taste of your lips for a moment longer than he should’ve. You can feel the poke of his fangs on your bottom lip, and you yelp a little in his mouth. 

“Ah, I’m sorry.“

“It’s fine-“

And he a presses a few more gingerly kisses to your cheek, stroking your other with his thumb. His big hand lingers on your lower back, threatening to ghost his fingers against your behind. 

“See, told you I’d finish him off before you’d come.“ You say, indulgently resting your chin on his chest. 

“Can’t believe Jess sent you out here, on your break day too.“ Miguel scowls, “Wanted to take you somewhere special.“

“Welp, now I’m free.“ You shrug, and Miguel leans the both of you against the concrete walls of the tower. 

Something sparks in Miguel’s mind. 

“Hun, what does whipped mean?“

“Whipped?“

“Mhm. Lyla mentioned it earlier.“

You chuckle a little. 

“It’s what you are, Miguel.“

“And what, exactly, is that?“

“Absolutely in love with me. Like you’ll do anything, k’know?“

Miguel grumbles to himself, releasing you from his embrace. 

“I hate that she’s right.“

miguel gets jealous oneshot (same universe)

#miguel o'hara #spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse x reader #x reader #reader insert #fluff #lyla #atsv lyla #lyla across the spiderverse #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ THIS IS A LIFE, PART ONE !

summary :: in every universe, spiderman will inevitably lose the one thing that matters most to him: y/n l/n. miguel o'hara, peter parker, and hobie brown have all suffered through this story. they soon discover another version of you is alive, bound to fall in love with miles morales and to die abruptly. with the prospect of a second chance and a newfound obsession, these four men will do anything to keep you at their side.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 7.5k

content warnings :: yandere!miguel, yandere!miles, yandere!noir, yandere!hobie, reader death, gore/violence, murder, electrocution, fire, guns, alcohol, cigarettes, suicidal tendencies, kidnapping, stalking, physical restraint, child abuse/neglect, allusions to a child's death, physically abusive ex-boyfriend, infidelity, & torture.

──── October 17th, 2099 — Miguel O'Hara remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. August 24th, 1934 — Peter Parker remembers the day the same way he will never forget you. July 3rd, 2020 — Hobie Brown remembers the day the same way he will never forget you.

Y/N L/N. Miguel O'Hara, Peter Parker, and Hobie Brown will never forget them the same way they will never forget how it felt to lose them.

The inevitable fate of your demise is a cannon event for all spider-people. To love this person with every shred of their being only to live the rest of their lives without them; to love this person with all the might their body can contain only to let go of their hand in the end. It crushes their soul. Countless people are forced to live with the consequences of being bitten by a spider, not one had suspected it would be so detrimental.

Not when it is your life that has been taken.

Written in the stars is this destiny. How they will never love another again, but vow to be a hero and refrain a similar fate from falling onto anyone else. Many have been able to crawl out of the bottomless pit that is grief, but others have succumbed to the unforgiving anguish and let their life escape them. Just the way yours had. After all, what is life if you are not present? What is the point of living if there is no one there to patch up their scars and praise them for their heroic acts? There is no point, which leaves these three particular spider-people here. Their body is stuck in the past, reliving each moment with you up until they lost you forever.

October 17th, 2099. It was all his fault. Maybe if he hadn't let his violent tendencies toward anyone who isn't you slip through the seams, maybe if he had been more persistent in his reminders of how loved you are. Maybe if he had tried harder, Miguel O'Hara would still have you here at his side.

Miguel's attempts to make this sudden transition in your life as easy as possible turned out to be disastrous. He is not stupid; he knows this upbringing into this new lifestyle you claim to be "kidnapping" was blunt. He knew this, yet still, his plans on easing you through this change had collapsed right before him. Time had passed, and he naively assumed your fear had depleted, far too caught up in the sheer delight that came from holding you in his arms. Days and nights spent trailing his fingers down the expanse of your skin and kissing away the bruises his fangs had left upon your lips. This is a dream, Miguel always catches himself thinking.

And his sweet daughter, Gabriella. How she adored you so much. Even more so than her own father, he often joked. Coming home to find you both brushing the hair of her numerous dolls, baking treats that were rich with far too much sugar, or fast asleep on the couch while some whiny kids show plays on the television. His heart hammers like a fluttering hummingbird at the sight of you so soft and calm with his daughter. However, your guard then builds itself back up, brick-by-brick, faster than a gust of wind when he makes his presence known. In a way, Miguel found himself... jealous of Gabriella. That gentle and loving nature of yours, why couldn't he have it for himself? Why couldn't you give him some of that attention, even just a blink? What could that crybaby brat possibly have done to deserve such an amazing thing!?

No matter what kind of thoughts suffocate his mind, Miguel always tried to keep himself composed in front of you. With his tall, muscular physique, it makes sense why you are so intimidated by his appearance. If he were to ever let this satiating envy bleed through the bandaids, however, you'd certainly never open your heart to him. The prospect alone makes his chest tighten with dread.

And he had been so negligent towards his daughter, it only makes sense why she would turn to you. With how breathtaking, elegant, brilliant, electrifying you are, Miguel can understand why she loves you so much. Still, this does not refrain him from tightening his jaw whenever his daughter does something as trivial as hug you. That should be me with Y/N. Let me hold them, let me hold them, let me hold them like that.

It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his envy through sharp gazes, a towering frame, and muffled shouts through the thin walls. It's his fault he never assured you these ugly emotions were never your fault, since you could never do any wrong in his eyes, after all. It's his fault he didn't drown you in even more heaps of affection, to further remind you of just how much he needs you.

It is his fault you are dead.

Overcome with drowsiness, Miguel heedlessly packs his daughters lunch for school that day. Despite how you are usually the one who does this task, since you have always adored looking after the little one, you needed your rest. And he was insistent on treating you with even more intensive care, all to prove that he is the right one for you. No one else. Meanwhile, Gabriella sits at the kitchen table with her backpack on, swinging her short legs back and forth. She is bright with full energy that contradicts her father's state in a comical manner.

"Y/N/N always cuts my food into cool shapes! Yesterday, they made my sandwich star-shaped!" Gabriella exclaims to her father with admiration.

The mere mention of your name from someone else makes Miguel freeze. A sudden surge of anger wraps around his lungs like a sheen layer of morning dew resting on Spring grass. You treat her with such attentive care, why can't he get any of that? What is so special about her that he doesn't have? What does he need to change about himself in order to get you to love him the way you so fatuously love her? Miguel casts his gaze across the counter and finds several bottles of cleaning products you must have forgotten to put away. So endearing, so adorable. An idea then sparks. While Gabriella continues to babble about how cool and amazing you are, Miguel finds himself considering something he will never be able to take back.

Just a dash of some drain cleaner in her sandwich and this problem will fade away.

"Y/N/N!" The sound of your nickname shouts through the air upon your arrival. Gabriella is more than elated to greet you, but your eyes remain locked on Miguel. In other circumstances, he'd be thanking the heavens above for this bit of attention you have given him. At this moment, however, there is a disturbed gleam of horror in your expression that makes his stomach twist with apprehension.

The energy is not directed towards Gabriella, as you caress her cheek and gift her that smile of yours that rivals sunlight. Miguel inadvertently rolls his eyes at the sight, envious as ever. As she continues to ramble to you about her success at a recent soccer game, you retrieve all the cleaning products and return them to their respective place underneath the sink. Not without shooting a burning glare at Miguel, however. Had he made his intentions that obvious? You wave him aside from his stance at the pink, glittery lunchbox and he obeys. Pretending to finish up his original efforts, you examine every snack inside for anything this crazed man may have tampered with.

"Good morning, button..." The nervous tremble in Miguel's voice doesn't tarnish the sheer adoration that seeps from his tone.

Your short response of "'morning" could barely be heard over the thunderous sound of his heart shattering. Yet again, you have broken his heart. And still, he will crawl back to you every time, aching for any inkling of your regard. Soon, you're saying your goodbyes to Gabriella and wishing her a wonderful day at school. Planting a quick peck to her cheek, Miguel's talons grow and dig crevices into the steering wheel while he waits for his daughter to join him in the vehicle. Oh, if only you could give him the same act of affection, he would never ask the universe for anything ever again.

And if only he had known how the rest of the morning would play out, he never would have left the house.

When Miguel finally pulls out of the driveway, giving you a quick wave that is not reciprocated, you let your guard down. You almost watched this man murder his daughter. Tears begin to form in your eyes as the revelation simmers like boiling water. With more time here, who knows what lengths he'll travel to?

Fortunately for you, with how occupied he was with his daughter and his own inner turmoil, he had entirely forgotten to lock the door to his office. The one place neither you nor his daughter were allowed to venture into. You were unaware of what is within the room or how anything inside could aid you in your attempts to escape. What you were aware of, however, is how paranoid he was in his efforts to keep you out of there. Peeling back the curtain and taking a fearful glance out the window, just to ensure this psychopath who claimed to be your soulmate wasn't lurking, you embark on your journey into uncharted territory.

Miguel had mentioned several times in his late-night talks with you about his job at Alchemax. His boring explanations about the technology he was working on there did wonders in lulling you to sleep. Now, seeing the scatterings of machinery that littered the room made you gasp from their futuristic appearance. One contraption had caught your attention, however. It seemed to be a current project, evident in the numerous tools and papers inked with equations littered around. Upon stepping closer to the contraption, a holographic screen sputters to life. You find several distorted, glitching files that all attain to you in some shape or form. Y/N's wish list, Y/N's checking account, and Y/N's security camera footage. Curiosity does spark, but with how swiftly Miguel is able to drop his daughter off and speed home to return to you, the time you had was not versatile.

If I can piece together how this gadget works, I may be able to call for help and get Gabriella and I as far away from this man as possible, you think to yourself.

The machine continues to stammer pathetically as if it were desperately chasing its own life. Trying to peruse through the technology to find anything useful, its poor performance prevented you from any fruition. In a fit of frustration, you pull your hand back and deliver a harsh smack! to the side of the machine. With how little time you have, you can feel your opportunity for freedom begin to fade away with every glitch that erupts. With one final, violent slam to the machinery, the metal borders protecting the numerous open wires inside fall, and a sudden wave of electricity surges through you. Your entire body goes rigid before you splat harshly against the ground. You are now left entirely lifeless, except for the electric shocks that cause your stiff form to twitch in response.

With that, your life was over. October 17th, 2099 — the day Miguel O'Hara inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

August 24th, 1934. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had stayed with you more and neglected the city, maybe if he hadn't been so careless with expressing his love for you. Maybe if he had tried harder, Peter Parker would still have you here at his side.

Peter, too, attempted vigorously to make your transition to this new life with him as smooth as possible. At the very beginning of this new adjustment, hope had still plagued your mind. As days turned into weeks, soon months, the forest fire that was your persistence had slowly been snuffed out like an old candle. Now, all you can do is sit at the window seat of his apartment and just pray that someone will recognize your face. From the numerous missing persons' posters that were now left behind in dumpsters and rain puddles, you could feel your luck grow thin. Everyday looked like this, all with this lovesick maniac at your beck-and-call, deluded enough to believe this fantasy of being your doting partner to be reality. The amount of egg-creams you've drank is bound to make you vomit at some point.

At the end of the day, you had gotten what you had wished for. You were once a journalist, putting all your time into unmasking the famous Spiderman. The truth of his identity was now in the palm of your hands. However, there were far more consequences to this wish than you had originally anticipated. And Peter is overcome with guilt when he thinks back to how disastrous his efforts to give you his heart turned out.

It's his fault he had so carelessly exposed his acts of heroism through the stench of gunpowder and chunks of blood beneath his fingernails. It's his fault he didn't spend more time showering you in the affection you truly deserved. It's his fault he never assured you the inevitable fate of the bastards that hurt you was never your fault, just so you can realize that everything he does, no matter how calamitous, was all for your benefit.

It is his fault you are dead.

Slow dancing with you in the gentle haze of the moonlight peaking through the window, swaying along to some romantic melody echoing from the saloon across the street, amorous words that you'd hear from the lips of a poet whispered into your ear — this is where heaven is. This is all that he has ever dreamed of; this is all he has ever wanted for the two of you. This is what makes him happy.

"My heart is bleeding in your hands, dollface. It's all yours, I'm all yours." Peter's breath tickles your neck, the infatuation-stained harangue finally coming to an end as he continues to sway you along to the harmonies outside.

You often joke to yourself that you could stab Peter in the heart, give him even just a sliver of the turmoil he has forced into your life, and he would still give you a smile with blood painting his teeth and that revolting gleam of pure, unadulterated devotion in his eyes. With this devotion, however, comes dark, dark side effects. This was not a surprise to you, considering how you've been locked up like a bad dog for these past several months. Still, when you inhale and the sharp odor of iron poorly masked with bleach overwhelms your senses, you find yourself taken aback.

The clamoring sound of the bolts to your prison cell your captor claims to be your love den being unlocked brings you out of your thoughts. When the door opens and Peter walks in, all you see is a euphoric, hopelessly-besotted partner. With the sudden stench that is still heavy in the air, however, you feel a new, sudden sense of dread with his presence. He is elated to see you, as he always is. An impassioned kiss to your lips and an ardent compliment are essential to your everyday encounter with the man you thought once to be a superhero. Sometimes, a gift of fresh, blood-red roses may accompany him in his attempts to woo you further, as well.

Through the whiff of cigarettes sitting on his trench coat when he envelops you in a much-needed embrace after his long day of work, you sense something else. The tang you had inhaled from outside the bedroom is now stuck to his form, nestled beneath the aroma of late-night brume and smoke. You force a gag down your throat and reciprocate the affection, trying to push your suspicions to the back burner in your mind. The rest of the evening is like any other: listening to some tunes from the radio as the two of you play a card game, all that Peter deems as a "romantic date". Your winning strike against him (he always lets you win, but he won't tell you this) falters when your brain can't help but wonder what he was so occupied with outside that door.

As devastating and exhausting as the truth is, coming to terms with reality is the only chance you have of returning to the life you once had. Hoping he'll wake from his delusions and let you off your leash is nothing more than a pipe dream, you realize. If you want freedom, you'll have to take it by the neck and claim it as yours. So, as the hours of the night fade into dawn, you conjure a plan in your head while the man beside you snores in a deep slumber (not without a few sleepy mumbles of flattery for you, though).

The scheme you had so flawlessly crafted was quick, simple, and easy. You would do something you have never done before: initiate affection with Peter.

This was your ploy: fulfill all the fantasies his lovesick brain was infested with and watch with a newfound sense of hope as he forgets to lock the door, too dazed from the pleasure your sweet attitude had brought him. And it worked marvelously. Not only did this man forget to lock the bedroom door, he had entirely forgotten to lock the front door of the apartment altogether. The prospect of this mistake being a test of your loyalty lingers, but when you watch through the window as he swings away from building to building, you let out a roar of laughter.

After your fit of hysterics, a smile sits on your face as you tread to the front door. Something stops you in your tracks when your hand hovers over the doorknob. When you leave, you will have nothing but months of memories to defend yourself with. Who are the authorities going to believe — you, a mischievous journalist, prone to bending the rules for a good headline, or Peter, the famous superhero, notorious for his restless efforts to save the city? Despite the freedom you have dreamed of being right in your palms, you step away from the door. Instead, you look around for any evidence deemed beneficial. Whatever can put him under the negative limelight is satisfactory to you.

No stone was left unturned in the apartment, all besides a single door at the end of a long corridor. The night before, Peter had been so frantic with his time inside (all in order to get back to you sooner) that he was sloppy with his efforts in cleaning his mess. The spilled bleach he had accidentally knocked over was still lying in a puddle; the nauseating scent of fresh blood still satiated through the air like a fragrance. And lastly, the latch on the door had been left unlocked.

Without so much as a second thought, you enter the room and let your curious eyes soak in the sheer horror that resides within.

A metal chair rests in the middle of the room, leather straps tightened around a body that sits motionless. Two tables are located on the sides of the room where all sorts of gut-wrenching tools reside. And there is blood everywhere. What was once a second bedroom for buyers of the apartment has now been morphed into a torture chamber of sorts.

The person restrained in the chair, you weren't sure if they were even alive. Everything is drowned in so much heaps of red, attempting to use your mere first-aid knowledge is impossible. What is most perceptible, however, is the way their eye had been forcefully torn from its socket. It resembles a runny egg how it causes bodily fluids to cascade down their face. The amount of flesh on their body that had been torn asunder, the gag in their mouth that was oozing with tears and saliva, the gushing blood that continues to hastily seep from infected wounds. Everything makes your eyes blur and your stomach churn with nauseau.

With the career you once had as a journalist, you've seen some disgusting sights. Sneaking onto crime scenes from a brawly saloon fight gone too far or snapping pictures of the result of Spiderman's "heroic" acts to save citizens, you've become desensitized to gory scenes. But, this. This wasn't like anything you have ever seen.

"Y/N?" You hadn't realized how deafening the silence was until the poor victim is able to speak out.

With one eye practically staring daggers into you, the revelation hits you like a train. That voice, that eye. This is no other than the man you had called your boyfriend before this mess had snuck into your life. Or, ex-boyfriend, as you'd prefer to refer to him as. The status of your relationship was left a mystery after the night he had come to your home drunk and reeking of someone's perfume. Your insistent demands for him to sober up and inform you of his recent whereabouts earned you a harsh slap across the face. With a loud shout of how much of a “shitty partner” and "piece of cityside trash" you are, the person you thought to be the love of your life storms out of your home. Never to be seen again.

Hastily, you unclasp the restraints that left his skin numb and bruised. With how malnourished he had become from his time spent here, it was fairly easy to support his weight. You swing his battered arm around your shoulder and help him stand on his emaciated legs. After only two steps, he pushes you off of him harshly with what little strength his body was able to garner. His attempts served well, as you feel your stomach hit a table adorned with blood-stained utensils that make you sick to imagine how they were used.

"You... How could you...?" As his weak voice fills the air, you feel your stomach fold into itself. Does he think you did this?

Opening your mouth to begin stammering your way through what you intended to be a thorough explanation, a loud bang! then pervades the air. Without a second to process his actions, the man grasped the pistol left on the table and pulled the trigger. A stream of smoke now stems from the barrel. The betrayal, the aversion, and the debility in his expression tell you everything you need to know. You were so close to the finish line that would grant you freedom, but when you shift your gaze down, you're devastated to find a bullet hole protruding through your chest. You then slump to the ground and your killer falls not long after you, the act of merely standing too much for his abused body.

With that, your life was over. August 24th, 1934 — the day Peter Parker inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

July 3rd, 2020. It was all his fault. Maybe if he had been more attentive to your safety, maybe if he hadn't exposed how soul-crushing the love he has for you is. Maybe if he had tried harder, Hobie Brown would still have you here at his side.

As opposed to the others, Hobie did little to ease you into this new life with him. The transition was curt, violent. With you as a bartender, drunken customers are most certainly not a rare sight. However, when you rejected a man who had one too many drinks and he reacted with violence, it caught you off-guard. And Hobie, the lead singer of the band that consistently played at your bar, had become blind with rage. Through the mess of the blood on your head when the beer bottle shattered against you and the apple-red matter staining Hobie's guitar as he smashes it relentlessly into the man's skull, these events somehow landed you where you are now.

An abandoned building on the outskirts of town, that's where you had woken up. The debris around the room was masked with string lights and band posters adorning the walls, as well as a rickety bed frame scarcely supporting a lone mattress. With bleary vision and an even fuzzier head, you gain consciousness abruptly. You find yourself on the bed with thick, itchy blankets draped around you, clothes that certainly do not belong to you on your body, and spiky belts used to restrain your limbs. Barbed wires and decaying planks of wood board the windows; the lack of passing cars and loud pedestrians outside cause you to worry about how far you are from the lively city you called home.

A lanky figure makes their presence known, dressed in those all-too-familiar garbs. Spider-Punk, the man you'd always see performing at your penurious bar, despite how widespread their band was. Much to your shock, his large hand finds the trim of his mask before tearing the garment off. Beneath is a gorgeous face embellished with piercings and a wild head full of hair. Large, wet eyes overwhelm you. And there is only one discernible trait you could read clearly through his expression: desire.

The way your plump body pools from the hems of the small clothing he dressed you in from his closet, fuck. Hobie has thought of this moment plenty of times — finally being able to take you away, just the two of you. He swore up and down he'd keep his fervid cravings at bay. But, when you're truly here in front of him, looking like that. He has to dig his long nails into his palms to physically restrain himself from lunging for you like a feral animal in heat. God, you look too fucking good.

From here on out, the relationship you have with Hobie sprouted into something only you would call treacherous, something only he would call rapturous. Being trapped within the small expanse of this grimy room, your new life has shown how perceptibly different your reactions are from one another. You are entirely dumbfounded at these new circumstances you've been forcefully thrust into. Meanwhile, Hobie attempts to put space between you both to avoid giving into his irresistible hunger. Though, it doesn't take a genius to notice how his hands always find their way to your naked skin and how his eyes linger on the intimate parts of your body. And it most certainly doesn't take a genius to notice the sheer terror and confusion stuck to your expression.

The discomfort the residence brings does little to ease you, as well. How your body is restricted against the firm mattress has your limbs aching with cramps. Your neck throbs from no support, considering the lack of pillows. But, Hobie always remarked that his chest is more comfortable to lay on, anyway. His clothing reeks of alcohol from the numerous bars and parties he’s attended, but also from the expensive perfumes, lotions, as well as the skin and hair products he received from his time being a runway model. The scent now clinging to your skin fails to bring you any of the tranquility he wished you would feel. Meals shared between you two were often dowsed in grease and cheap in flavor. Your captor never put much effort into making your dinnertime together anything reminiscent of a romantic date in Italy or something along those themes. He would much rather eat something else for dinner, after all.

This is what life looked like for the next several months. Records spinning and filling the air with headache-inducing songs he says he had written about you; Polaroid pictures scattered around the room that display different variations of the same scene: you sitting pretty with Hobie's hands and lips all over you. Never, never, has this man ever felt so much bliss in his entire life. He has always preached about how the idea of "love" is nothing more than propaganda meant to earn greedy, capitalistic companies more money with their cheesy movies and Valentine's Day garbage. When you entered his life in all your glory, however, he was ashamed to put his pride aside and admit those irritating pop songs may have been correct.

"I don’t need nothin’ else. 'Long as I have you here, birdie." He fidgets with the necklace he had given you that was currently draped upon your neck. His lucky guitar chip is swung upon the chain, since it always belonged to you, anyway. You will always be his muse.

With how carelessly he let himself be swathed in the warm blankets of love, how carelessly Hobie had let you slip from his fingertips.

It's his fault he had so frivolously expressed his protective nature through blood-stained bar floors and constricting arms encompassing your body. It's his fault he never assured you these conflicts weren’t your fault, it was only the monsters outside who wished to separate true love. It's his fault he had disciplined himself so heavily for his big heart, fearful of losing self-control with the love of his life.

It is his fault you are dead.

You regret not tallying the days you've spent locked up in this birdcage. Carving lines into the deteriorating walls to represent the slashes this new life has left in your sanity. It feels as if lifetimes have tread by you, the same day repeating itself like your own personal nightmare. Mere months have gone by and unbeknownst to you, the sweet escape you so despairingly crave is sitting upon the horizon. The circumstances of your freedom were the absolute last thing you had wished for, however.

Hobie’s history of being a heartthrob and heartbreaker were no secret to you, but his newfound loyalty to the innocent person he had taken from their previous life was even more evident. All the possessive, delusional fans that were convinced they'd marry their favorite singer, it was just so easy for Hobie to indulge in some casual fun before leaving them behind in his dust. As the story of all Spider-People goes, however, Y/N L/N is the tool that throws this man into a whirlpool of enamoring disarray. Embracing this newfound happiness was exhilarating for him, but Hobie was so dazed from it, he never had thought that karma would slither itself between you two.

A certain groupie, wholly convinced she and Spider-Punk are soulmates, was devastated to see how carelessly the love of her life abandoned her. Her mind had sprinted to all sorts of gut-wrenching conclusions. Am I not enough? Is he moving on? Is there someone else? Her worst nightmare materializes into reality when she stalks behind his tall figure and follows him to a building one late night, an odd pep in his step as he enters. What she assumes is just another exclusive club location with more taboo forms of partying, she is left stunned when she catches sight of what sights lie within.

The man of her dreams is found in the depths of infidelity. Through the crack of a rickety door coated with locks, there he was. Chest pressed against the back of someone else, who was sound asleep beneath an array of blankets like a baby in a crib. With his arms locked around them like a lifeline, Spider-Punk presses long, intimate kisses to their face. The words she had begged to hear from him, he was so frivolously drowning this stranger in such, despite their unconscious state. Every syllable was dripping with lust and smitten-induced hysteria. Tears brim in her eyes from how desperately she covets to be you in this moment.

With a shattered heart and a festering rage, she comes to the conclusion of what she must do. She will take him back, no matter what it takes.

Rarely did Hobie ever leave the expanse of your room, he wanted to stay with you forever. When he did, however, it was for some quick cash at yet another gig he and his bandmates had landed. Singing his lungs out, knowing every lyric revolves around the one waiting for him back home — you have brought him ecstasy he still cannot fathom the sheer weight of. A Friday night like no other, Hobie would spend the evening beneath the blinding spotlights, drinking the hours away, before returning home and cuddling with the only reason he chooses to live.

Through the barricaded windows and doors, a sudden stench of what appears to be smoke invades your senses. A big city like this, something along these lines is nothing out of the ordinary. After all, you were so thrilled to finally be granted a night to yourself, anything that would jeopardize this gift from the universe is seen as insignificant. When the heavy smell becomes more perceptible and the unmistakable sound of fire cracking gets louder, you feel dread tickle down your spine. The fear settles into your bones before you can think of a logical way to escape. Hobie did everything to ensure you wouldn’t leave his side, after all.

Air soon becomes precious, your lungs begin to squeeze, your skin is burning with scorching pain. It brings you the hell you had carelessly thought you felt before. A final cry of help into the suffocating air and you feel your life begin to fade. Meanwhile, the lost groupie stands near the entrance, holding back a satisfied smile. An onslaught of concerned pedestrians and firefighters accompany her. And Hobie was still far away, alcohol heavy in his system and the joy of returning to you seeping through his body like a drug. So blissfully unaware of what awaits him when he comes back to the place he had called home only with you.

With that, your life was over. July 3rd, 2020 — the day Hobie Brown inevitably lost the only thing that ever mattered to him.

The effects your departure has left on these men are all nothing short of disastrous. No longer do they have the vibrant, loving souls they once held. Day by day, they are dragging the dead carcass that is their own body, suffering through every second and hoping it will be their last. The paths your death have led these three are unique from one another, but they all find themselves in one specific space. Spider-HQ, within Nueva York on Earth-928. The story the multiverse has written for them had so selfishly taken their happiness away from them. Taking the pen for themselves and creating the most beautiful fairytale where you are alive and back in their embrace is the only purpose they now have.

Now, Miguel O'Hara stands at the office he earned from becoming the leader of this society. Upon the various monitors displayed around him are scenes taken from numerous different universes. Lethargy sits like bags of bricks beneath his eyes, slowly blinking as he ensures no minor mistake is present. If the multiverse were to crumble, his sole objection to save the only important person in Spiderman's life will fall with it. When he verifies all is well on Earth-1610, something perceptible then catches his gaze and he does a double-take. Any sign of fatigue within him is snatched out of his body, leaving him more awake than ever before.

Within this universe, Miguel finds you.

Before, these universes have only displayed the effects your death has left on all the spider-people. Today, however, is the first time he has seen you alive since the day he lost you. Lyla snickers and accuses him of having a cute, teenage-like crush when she takes notice of the sheer captivation in his expression. Little does she know how much history lies in your mere face. It is heart-crushing, how much the simple sight of you enjoying a cup of coffee (with one too many sugars, as he knows you've always preferred) has such catastrophic effects on him.

Piles of schoolwork are scattered around your desk, covered in information adhering to your current college major. Even with your lack of sleep, school-induced annoyance, and general exhaustion over everything in your life, Miguel has never seen something quite as breathtaking as you in this moment. An epiphany sprouts in his brain as quickly as the sight of you caused his soul to blossom, just like it did all those years ago.

Maybe he can stop it. Maybe he can get you back.

Your death is inevitable, and even though Miguel was aware of this, dread still pervades his stomach at the prospect and churns with his breakfast. What really makes him shudder is when he reads through the cannon events assigned to you. A flare of jealousy ignites within him when he finds an unfamiliar name in the midst of your story.

Miles Morales, the Spiderman you are meant to fall in love with. What good is he? He's just some stupid kid, what more could he possibly do that Miguel can't? Why would you choose this loser when he can give you everything you have ever wanted!? In a sudden fit of rage, he grasps hold of whatever matter was closest to him and uses all the strength within his muscular arms to hurl it across the room. His chest heaves with infuriated huffs; his claws slice into the meat of his palms. He is enraged, yes, but he is mostly devastated that the beautiful face on his screen will soon meet their inescapable demise.

Not only will he do everything in his power to stop your death, but Miguel also vows to put his blood, sweat, and tears into ensuring you do not fall for this boy. Additionally, he will formulate a plan to bring you back into his arms without destroying the multiverse as a whole. With that being said, this does not change how reality on Earth-1610 continues to play out in front of him. It’s like a television show; a show he'd give a 1-star rating out of sheer pettiness.

In his last year of high school, Miles Morales' life was thrown into a tornado when his parents enrolled him in a new school to finish his last semester. And the 18-year-old boy absolutely dreaded this. New people, new location, new clothes that poke and jut at his skin uncomfortably. With the hefty responsibility of being Brooklyn's sole hero and hiding this truth from his loved ones, this sudden alteration in his environment does not relieve any stress. Swiftly, Miles conjures a plan to convince his parents to send him back to the way his life once was. Slack off, play dumb, and bring home report cards that are absolutely atrocious and his parents will have no choice but to give their son what he wants.

However, this is not what happened. Much to Miles' dismay, the grand idea his parents had was to not let him continue his education comfortably. Instead, they hired a tutor to aid him through his final months of high school.

Rio and Jeff had invited this tutor for dinner at their home, which Miles had flaked on entirely. Mostly due to his duty as Spiderman, but partially from how sour he was about the state of affairs. When he returned home, their anger was practically palpable. However, this disappointment soon shifted into a long, insufferable tangent about how marvelously smart, mannerly, and kind this tutor was and how embarrassed they were because of him. That Saturday, he was expected to join this tutor in the school's library or his parents may consider grounding him once again. Miles has to refrain from rolling his eyes at their never-ending lecture.

March 11th, 2023. It will be all his fault. This day is the day Miles Morales will inevitably meet the only thing that will ever matter to him.

To earn some extra support through your time in college, you had decided to take up tutoring in your free time. The myriad of students you had met all possessed the same attitude — the kind of attitude you'd expect from teenagers whose parents forced them to do schoolwork in their free time. Miles fit this category well, at first. And how your situation developed, it was oddly refreshing to finally meet someone who isn't repudiating every second with you.

15 minutes late, open backpack spilling with paper, tie loose around his neck, the student most certainly made his presence known when he stumbled into the silent library. Attempting to fix his untied shoelaces, you rush over to help him and save him from any further embarrassment he was already enduring. You are able to catch the folder that had tumbled out of his bag before it hit the ground, to where he mumbles a quick "thanks" in response. His gaze is still locked to the strings of his shoes he was attempting to tie together as swiftly as possible. Nearly tripping, Miles makes it to the table you had once organized thoroughly, but was now cluttered with everything this boy had thrown onto the surface.

Oblivious to you, the boy whose parents described as having a "heart of gold," was doing everything in his power to appear as rude and ill-mannered as possible. Deliberately arriving late, making a fool of the two of you, messing up the neat array of lesson plans and pencils you arranged. Anything to convince his parents to send him away from the nightmare that is this school. This plan of his was seized from his mind like a rug pulled out beneath his feet when he finally turns his shoulder and shifts his attention to you. What Miles expected would be the slowest, drawn-out hour he's ever experienced would actually be the most exciting, life-beaming 60 minutes he’s ever experienced.

Your voice sounds like honey as you introduce yourself to him. And that heart-stuttering smile of yours works wonders on him. Miles had already known your name, but hearing it from your mouth made him think he was listening to a symphony of angels. Since the last few stages of high school are stressful for everyone, you decided to cut him some slack and offer a kind hand for him to shake. All thoughts of his old school and the comfort it brought are all eradicated as he stares into your soul with those wide, bambi-brown eyes. After months in this new environment, you must be a gift the universe sent to compensate for all the misery he has endured. And fervently, Miles accepts you as the best gift he has ever received.

"I'm Spiderman." His mouth moves before his brain can compute. Your brows furrow in response, scrutinizing the confession for some sort of punchline.

“I mean- shit, uh… I mean, I’m Miles... You-You know, like- kilometers, yards, feet. Except, it's Miles this time... Y-... Y'know?"

His relentless stammering to try and prove himself worthy of your time while also acknowledging he accidentally told you his deepest secret earns him a quick giggle. And the sound bouncing from your lips is nothing short of paradisiacal, especially when he is the cause. A sudden wave of silence then rests between you both. You, laughing nervously to lighten the awkward tension. Miles, entirely flabbergasted at how he could have ever wanted to miss out on something as profoundly magnificent as this. His mind runs rampant while his wide eyes remain locked on your averting ones. Do it, do it, do it. Just do it already, Miles!

He pulls his hands up, your eyebrows furrowing once more trying to consider his intentions. He then lands his touch upon your shoulder.

"Hey..." Miles' voice drops several octaves, a fiddly excuse of a smirk forms on his lips, and he squints his twitching eyes that still hold the same crazed wonder they've had since they first landed on you.

"Hi...?" Your response expresses nothing but sheer confusion, not your face burning from the attention like Miles had initially strived for.

Wrapping your hand around his, your mere physical touch sends flares of electricity down his skin. Goosebumps bloom across his arms and his entire body halts in place, tense with shock and nerves. In an attempt to forcefully remove his hold on you, you're startled to find how he is now stuck to your hand. As if he had lathered his hand in heaps of glue before touching you, the efforts you took to get this boy off of you only resulted in your skin painfully stretching.

So enveloped in the way his heart lurches from holding your hand, a sudden, hushed whimper of "you're hurting me!" and Miles feels a gasp involuntarily escape his throat. Attempting to pull away from you, as much as he wishes not to, only intensifies your pain. What had Peter told him to do when this happened? Oh yeah, just relax! But, how on Earth can he possibly relax when your hand is in his!? 

People are staring, exclaiming in annoyed distress over their interrupted study time. You're trying to piece together how Miles had managed to cement his hand to yours and why he refuses to let go of you. Meanwhile, Miles is apologizing profusely for inadvertently harming you, while also soaking in how rhapsodic it is to have your hand in his. He knows he has fully fallen into oblivion when the prospect of letting go of you hurts him more than the relentless pull and twist of his flesh.

So much for first impressions, right?

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ MANY LIVES THAT COULD HAVE

BEEN ENTANGLED FOR ETERNITY . . . ❞

gif credits :: miguel, miles, peter, & hobie.

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#moonfairy #atsv #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miles morales #spiderman noir #hobie brown #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miles morales x reader #spiderman noir x reader #hobie brown x reader #atsv imagines #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o’hara imagine #miles morales imagine #spiderman noir imagine #hobie brown imagine #yandere atsv #yandere across the spiderverse #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miles morales #yandere spiderman noir #yandere hobie brown #yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader #Spotify

[spiderg0th]

Established or mutual pining with Hobie Brown 🥺 maybe he's teasing the reader who is also a spider person (maybe include a kiss fake out or a chin tilt, something cutesy that gets the reader flustered). Maybe they're working together to capture an anomaly, and the reader is playfully annoyed?

(Hope that made sense!🥺)

can i kiss you?

hobie brown x spider person! reader

desc you visit his world for the first time.

wc 925

warning contains small spoilers from atsv (though it takes place before the events of the movie) and a mention of an injury.

Squinting as your eyes adjusted to the flashing array of colors from the portal, you removed the hand that shielded your face as an entire new world came into view. Taking a moment to take in your surroundings, you stood in awe at the vast landscape before you: large buildings featuring colorful billboards dominated the landscape. Everything flickered and changed shape every couple of seconds—it was unlike anything you had ever seen before. That was saying something because despite your short time in the Spider Society, none of the other worlds you had visited came anywhere close to this.

“Impressed?” Hobie questioned smugly, and even though you couldn’t see his facial expression due to his mask covering it, you knew that he was probably smirking.

“You were right, it’s certainly something.” You responded, pressing a few buttons on your watch, letting headquarters know that you both had safely traveled to Earth-138. An anomaly of Kingpin from another dimension had shown up in Hobie’s, so naturally, Miguel paired you together to handle it. Not only did you work well together, but Miguel trusted you to make sure that Hobie would get the job in a timely manner.

“I know exactly where it is. Just grab on so we don’t have to waste anymore time.” He spoke before bending over slightly so his lanky frame was closer to the ground.

“You’re joking right?” You asked incredulously, attempting to hide the uneasiness from your voice. If you were being completely honest with yourself, being piggybacked around by your crush sounded more than pleasant, but you didn’t want to give him any indication of your feelings. Besides, wouldn’t “fraternizing” like this be breaking some sort of Spider Society rules? Relationships between two spider people from different dimensions didn’t exactly sound like something Miguel would be in favor of. Then again, you rarely agreed with his policies anyway.

“What are you waiting for?” He asked again, turning to look at you over his shoulder. “You scared or something?”

“What? No?!” You said agitatedly before reluctantly wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Alright, hang on.” You knew from spending so much time with him that Hobie’s style of swinging around was more erratic than most, but you weren’t expecting it to be this wild. It was taking every amount of restraint within you to not let a scream rip from your throat. It was bad enough that you were sure he could feel your rapid heartbeat.

“Hold on, hold on.” He stopped on the top of a nearby building and you set yourself back on the ground.

“Are we here already? The watch says he’s much farther from here.” You state, looking around at the bustling streets below.

“No. You’re almost strangling me with your arms. We’ll get there soon.” Not even giving you a moment to protest, he places your left arm around his shoulder and his right around your waist. Securing a web on another skyscraper, you were off. Although this position was far more comfortable, it was also more embarrassing. Even though you were thankful he couldn’t see your expression beneath your mask, you still felt the need to hide your face in his neck. When you eventually reached the location where Kingpin was, you couldn’t deny the disappointment you felt when his arm slipped away and he set you on the ground.

Setting yourself down next to him on the ledge, you let out a sigh of relief because Kingpin was finally caught. He would have to settle for being tied together with webbing for now, as Miguel and Jessica weren’t there to physically take him back to the Spider Society Headquarters. He put up one heck of a fight, but it wasn’t something neither of you couldn’t handle. That didn’t mean you escaped the battle unscathed though. You caught Hobie examining your features when you slipped your mask off your face. If you weren’t so tired you would actually be embarrassed at the attention.

“Wait, look at me.” He said quietly, tucking a finger under your chin so he could look at your face more closely. He was close enough that you could feel his breath fanning your cheek.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?”

“No.” He didn’t have a hint of sarcasm in his voice, which was kind of alarming to you. “It’s just a cut… gonna look sick once it’s healed.” You felt disappointed again, he was just looking at an injury on your face, nothing special. Assuming that he was done, you attempted to move your head back forward but his voice stopped you.

“Can I kiss you?” That’s not what you were expecting at all. Not thinking much, you immediately nodded your head and you could’ve sworn that you saw him smile before he leaned in. Unfortunately for you both, your watches decided to go off when your lips were only about a few centimeters away from each other.

“We’re here.” Hobie rolled his eyes as you stood to your feet. “Send the location of Fisk and meet us there.” As usual, Miguel had terrible timing. Before you could utter a word to Hobie, he swung to a building below and turned back to face you.

“You coming down here or do you need me to come back up there and grab you again?” He shouted jokingly.

“Shut up!”

While the day didn’t end up going exactly how you wanted it to, you were happy because one thing was certain: Hobie liked you back, and that was all that mattered.

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobart brown #hobie brown imagine #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #spider punk x /n #spider punk imagine #atsv #atsv hobie #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv imagine #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hobie x deadpool reader or spider reader

Hobie Brown x Deadpool male reader

Headcanons

I love Deadpool, who doesn’t love Deadpool? I tried to think of what Deadpool would be like in Hobies’ earth, and I just feel like he would kinda just be the same as always, except maybe with a metal aesthetic. And any chance to work my favorite music into stuff? I’m taking it.

You were Deadpool, and had been Deadpool for a long time. In the beginning it had just been your musician and artist name. Much of your music was different types of metal, with lyrics focused on judging the system and pointing fingers at its corruption.

Of course, a lot of people hated your music, but there was also those who loved it. One of them being Hobie Brown. Even before he became spiderman, hed always been a very righteous person with strong opinions about corruption and capitalism, so finding an artist who shared his views was great.

That was until you got a little too popular and stepped on the wrong people’s toes with your music and art. When you started pointing fingers at Osborn and his wild corruption, those against you grew more and more violent.

And at one of your biggest concerts to date, one that offered all the proceeds to those in need, you were assassinated right on stage. Theories would go around saying it was Osborn wanting to get rid of you, and telling everyone what would happen if they crossed him.

Panic consumed the arena after you were shot right on stage, and in the panic your body was whisked away. Deadpool became an icon in the anarchist circle, as one of the first to stand up against suppression and never back down no matter what.

Time would pass, Hobie would become Spiderman, and he would fight people like Osborn, even killing the guy with his guitar in the end.

But even after killing Osborn, the world was still in disarray, meaning a lot of work had to be done. So, when someone who went by Deadpool started popping up in stories and rumors, it caught people’s attention.

It was assumed you were just a fan, who wanted to use the legendary name of Deadpool to spread your message, or maybe the honor the original Deadpool. That was until people met you though.

You had the same clothes, only now wearing a mask. Your boots, your jacket, your spikes, and patches, even your guitar, you had it all. And on closer inspection, true fans could see it was the real thing.

You were almost like a ghost of the past, stories would go around that you were the angered spirit of the musician Deadpool, having crawled out of hell to wreak havoc on the upper class and tear out the roots of capitalism.

Hobie would want to meet you of course, you were like his hero and biggest inspiration. The first time you two would meet would be during a fight of some sort, and you’d chuck your guitar across the battlefield to nail a corrupt cop in the head before they could get a lucky shot at Hobie.

After that you two became close like two peas in a pod. Hobie would never treat you like you were someone above him, even though he had admired you for years, because he doesn’t believe in treating celebrities like gods.

Soon Deadpool and Spiderman being spotted together was a common sight, and so was seeing spiderman swing around with Deadpool in his arms or hanging on his back like a koala.

You never really take off your mask in the beginning, but when you do Hobie learns why you keep it on. You have a large scar taking up part of your head where the bullet had blown your head apart all that time ago.

You had apparently always been a mutant with a light healing factor, which had kept you alive, but you had been whisked away from Osborn researchers who wanted to use your healing factor. But in the end, they’d simply boosted your powers and you became pretty much unkillable.

This leads to you taking most of the hits during battle, since you can easily take it, anything you lose will just grow back. That doesn’t stop Hobie from worrying though, because seeing someone get their arm sliced off is pretty extreme.

Your first kiss is something you’d only have with a version of Deadpool. Hobie would be carrying your head after it’s been sliced off, and you would be asking him for a kiss and blowing him kisses from where hes carrying your head.

Now, anyone normal wouldn’t do what Hobie does, but Hobie doesn’t like to fit the mold. So, he would lift your severed but still living head and kiss you on the lips. Cue a make out until your body stumbles over and you can get your head back on.

You two never actually put a label to what you are, because that’s not the type of person you two are. But you two are pretty much dating now. You move into an apartment together, and sleep in the same bed at night, and kiss whenever you want.

Spiderman and Deadpool pretty much become icons in your community, for standing up towards oppression, and also being two hot guys who hold concerts after fights.

#male reader #marvel #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spiderpunk #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x male reader #hobie brown headcanon #hobie brown imagine #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse x male reader #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse imagine #across the spiderverse headcanon #across the spiderverse x male reader #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderpunk imagine #spiderpunk headcanon #spiderpunk x male reader #spiderpunk x reader #marvel imagine #marvel headcanon #marvel x male reader #marvel x rader #deadpool reader

[yeagerfate]

big spoon or little spoon?

characters: miles morales (earth-1610), miguel o’hara, hobie brown, gwen stacy, pavitr prabhakar

warnings: none lol

notes: i didn’t proofread this because i’m exhausted from a bunch of irl stuff, so i’ll come check this out later and see if i need to fix anything. don’t really like how this went at all but i need something to post so oh well <3 might delete this later kinda depends. also i got my first writing request which i am very excited about hehe

Honestly, it all really depends on Miles’ mood. If he’s had a good day, then he’ll definitely be spooning you. However, if something went wrong, he will be seeking your comfort and attention. One of your most memorable moments with Miles’ was spooning him for the first time. He’d completely flunked an exam because he was out on a really dangerous mission the night before. In shambles, Miles had told you that he hadn’t slept at all and fell asleep during the test. He was really nervous to tell his parents about it because he didn’t know what his excuse would be. The last thing he wanted was for them to think he was out at some party, or just being irresponsible. He slept like a baby after you consoled him, his head resting on your chest as you ran your hand up and down his back with the other holding his head. Although it was a bittersweet moment, you enjoyed it, and the way Miles had drooled in his sleep had you trying not to wake him up from your sweet giggling.

Miguel’s in denial, but he’s a little spoon. The feeling of your hands running through his wavy hair at the end of a stressful day at work is something he’s grown addicted to. He’s a bit ashamed of it, as he thinks he should be the one holding you, but you quickly snap him out of it. Miguel finds solace in your arms, and for a couple hours it’s nice to forget about all of the emotional turmoil from work. Though, if you ever ask for it, Miguel will absolutely hold you. Sometimes, it’s nice to feel your head resting on his muscular chest and your warmth on him. In the mornings, it’s especially hard for Miguel to get up. Your arms are just so comfy and snug, and he feels like he’s at home when he’s with you. Lyla makes fun of him for it, calling him a “simp” (he doesn’t know what it means), but he doesn’t care. The way your face lights up when you feel his toned arms wrapped tightly around your face is something he’d never want to give up.

Hobie is a big spoon. He’s not big into snuggling, as he likes his personal space, but once you get into it, you get into it. (He is very affectionate with the people he cares about, though!) He’s found that the most comfortable position would be with your back against his chest and his arm wrapped around your stomach, his face hidden in your neck sweetly. It can get a little irritating, since Hobie is a big snorer. He also has a warmer body temperature, so in the summer, you’ll have to resolve to holding each other’s hands. It’s both endearing and frustrating, but it’s for Hobie, and that makes it worth it. During cuddling, the bonnet he wears tickles your neck. It’s hard to hold in the automatic laugh you have from it because he’s trying to sleep. Cuddling with Hobie is messy, fun, and enjoyable. It’s just so… Hobie.

Gwen, despite her average height, is a big spoon. She likes the feeling of being able to just hold and protect you. Gwen has lost so much, and so she feels she has to make sure you’re safe at all times. One of the way she does this is by holding you close to her her neck, your head resting on her shoulder as she runs her hands down your back. It doesn’t matter how tall you are. Even if you’re a foot taller than her, you’ll still be held by her. However, Gwen occasionally has nightmares, and so when she wakes up she’d like to be embraced by you. When she has her head pressed against you chest, and she can hear the sound of your heartbeat, it really makes her feel better. It reassures her panicking brain that you’re alive, you’re here, and you’re fine. It’s a soothing feeling, one that’s hard to describe. All she knows is that she really treasures it.

Pavitr is very enthusiastic about all types of physical affection, and that includes cuddling. He is a big spoon, though he doesn’t mind trading places at all. While you’re cuddling, he loves to tell you about how his day went. If you know that he’s spider-man, he’ll tell you all about the adventures he went on with his friends. Sometimes, he’ll even rant about Miguel, which is very amusing. However, if you don’t know that he’s spider-man, Pavitr will take a much different approach. Instead, he’ll ask you to tell him about your day. He asks you if you saw anything you liked at the stores nearby, or if you tried any new food. He likes to take note of these revelations because they make for great gifts. Pavitr is a very talkative cuddler, but on tiring days, he’ll be out like a light after 5 minutes. It all depends on how his day went.

#atsv fluff #atsv x reader #itsv x reader #itsv fluff #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miles morales fluff #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy fluff #gwen stacy x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar fluff #slept from 3am to 12pm today kinda regret it kinda dont #i hate tagging bruh

[transfemarmin]

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MILES MORALES X READER

TEXT MESSAGES

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#miles morales x reader #miles morales #across the spider verse #miles x you #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles headcanons #earth 42 miles x black reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x you #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x female reader #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles morales fluff #earth 42 miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x fem!reader #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #into the spider verse