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#platonic spiderman
zkyeline · 10 months
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a couple of eepies
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keylimeart · 9 months
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🌻 you're the sunflower think your love would be too much 🌻
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juniperarts · 7 months
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An unlikely duo 🌑☀️
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spoopdeedoop · 8 months
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real friends have weird greetings that usually involve hitting each other
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toast-on-dandelioms · 4 months
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Disclaimer
I am not the biggest fan of dc but I do know the story and everything, so if any character from the batfamily is wrong please tell me so I will try to fix it.
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Another story of Neglect
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You were another one of Bruce's children, born by one of his nightstands with a model to which he just gave child support and didn't really visit.
You never cared, you didn't even know that he was your father since you were happy with just your mom and the life you were living at the moment, but everything changed because of a stupid drunk driver that ended up crashing the car against your mom's one and killing both of them at the impact. You were only 12 and your life just changed in one night.
You had no one else, or at least no one that could take you in since everyone was busy or couldn't be bothered to have another mouth to feed so you ended up in front of Wayne's Manor, two suitcases full of stuff plus all the boxes from your old room and house that you managed to save from the relatives who tried to grab everything valuable in the house.
After getting in your room and setting everything up, making sure your photos with your mom and you were safe and sound, you tried to interact with your new family, wanting to make the best out of a bad situation but you didn't think that they would be so different from what you saw in the media.
•Bruce Wayne: you heard that he was a playboy but very nice to his kids, you saw how he looked at Damian or Dick, a look full of love and adoration that your mom used to give it to you.
But to you, he looked at you like you were just a nuisance that wasn't supposed to be here, he made sure to tell you the first day that you came here to not expect much since he wouldn't have the time to take care of every small needs and to just tell him or Alfred if you wanted to do something out of the school activities since you would be changing schools.
You tried to interact with him, to learn from what he likes so you could just try and hold a conversation with him but he always left you behind for another one of his kids that needed him at the moment, leaving you there with a small smile and just a small light of hope that maybe he will come back to talk to you.
But he never did.
•Richard/Dick Grayson: you thought he was the nicest big brother you ever seen, especially from what you saw him talking or playing with Damian, Tim or even Jason.
(You did find out pretty soon that they were the famous vigilantes since they didn't really keep it hidden from you, especially since you saw them in costumes and even training while they ignored you or didn't even notice your presence.)
You tried to talk to him but he was just like Bruce, leaving you for Damian mostly or using any excuse to not spend time with you.
Even when you tried to ask him to do some acrobatics since you knew he was from the circus, he just gave you an excuse 'sorry but it's been a while since Damian and Tim saw me and I wanted to go out with them, maybe next time (wrong/name)", leaving you before you even had the time to correct him about your name.
•Jason Todd: honestly he was the most decent family member, second to Alfred who treated you better whenever you were left alone, since he just straight up told you that he didn't care and to not bother with him.
You did try a few more times, thinking he was one with a tough exterior but a softie inside, thinking that he just needed time but him accidentally punching you in the face and leaving you with a black eye from you walking up behind him made you understand that he didn't care, especially with the way that he looked at you with an annoyed expression before walking away.
At least you didn't have to spend months trying to gain his favor, he already made it clear that he didn't care about you.
But it still hurts you know?
• Tim Drake: he was the only one you couldn't really put a pin on who he really is, not of some double life or something like that.
It's just that sometimes he would act nice, talking to you but the next time you would see him, even if the time passed between the two intervals could be of 1 hour, he would act like you were an annoying thing or would just ignore you.
You understood that he was sleep deprived and just started leaving him some candies that could help him sleep, wanting to help in a small way, especially since he was the only one you could actually help a little.
And the last, but especially the worst one was none other than Damian Wayne/al Ghul since he first acted like you were gonna steal something from him, especially considered that you were a year or two older than him.
He harassed you, using his animals or just his assassin skills to torment you for years even though you never gave him reasons to do so.
Not more than once you had to patch yourself in the bathroom because of his harassment, the scars still visible but luckily in places you could hide so no one would question you for them.
After two or three years he finally stopped and went to be one of the family members to give you attention to completely ignore your existence, acting like you weren't even someone worthy of his attention.
You always wanted to just hit him back but it would be relatively impossible to even try to land a hit on him because of his assassin training that he had.
But one thing you still had that connected you to your old life, to when you were happy and still with someone who loved you was dancing, which you still went to practice everyday and tried to invite your family but everyone was either busy or straight up told you that they didn't care.
Only Alfred would show up but it was also rare, but it would fill your heart with joy everytime you saw him in the audience of whatever ballet you were casted in, even if you weren't the main protagonist and just a side character.
You also tried to be the best in school, just to show it to Bruce and make him proud like your mother was whenever you were in the top but with a family filled with geniuses like Tim Drake and Damian Wayne, it was difficult to even compare to them.
But every day, you still had hope that maybe, if you opened the doors of your heart they will finally enter and make you part of the family.
That you can finally be accepted again, and maybe even join them in their vigilante jobs but alas, they always had excuses, excuses and even more excuses.
You were getting tired of all their excuses.
After a while you understand that maybe the problem is not you, it never was.
You opened up many times in the past years. You gave them every piece of your broken heart to hold but they would always break it in even more little pieces.
But, not everything always goes to plan does it?
So, instead of continuing to try, you also decided to ignore them back and live your life, counting the days of your eighteen birthday so you could finally get out and be free from the mansion you were supposed to call home.
Part 2 is here!
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heartpascal · 10 months
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is it freedom?
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▹— spiderverse (future) found family x platonic!reader
▹— summary: after losing everything, you struggle to accept the one thing you needed all along.
▹— a/n: ok i have been enabled by exactly two (2!) people. (thank you both) SO dare i start a spiderverse series??? IF YALL WANT MORE OF THIS… I WILL DO IT. this is really just a set up thing idk but i feel like arachnid has potential for further parts and ACTUAL found family!! also haven’t tagged people on my general taglist bc idk if you guys want to be tagged in ALL works or just all pedro works :(
▹— warnings: slight across the spiderverse spoilers, not really found family yet, injuries, blood, treating own injuries, stitches, fighting (canon-typical violence yall), dead parents (mentioned a LOT), a whole lot of angst (it’s a spider-person so what do we expect), reader has a whole lot of bad thoughts, loneliness, isolation
masterlist PART TWO
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Had you known what this, this thing, would lead to, you would have never started it. Not that you had done so purposely, at least to begin with, more so happening as an event of pure chance. You were in the right place at the right time, and since then, you had been addicted.
But if you could go back, look at yourself just a year younger than you are now, tell that kid what would come if you went through with saving a life for the first time, you wondered. It was a question that scratched deep in your brain, sending you off balance the more you thought about it; would you have still done it? Would you have saved that person’s life, knowing it would lead to your own falling apart?
You would like to think yes. In fact, you know that back then, when your eyes were bright at the prospect of helping people, when you still marvelled at the world like it was good, you would have been certain that it would be worth it. Why should that person die, just to save you? It’s a harrowing realisation. A conclusion that makes your fingers tremble, your voice shake. Now, you’re not sure you would do it. You don’t think you could bear to face that decision knowing what you know of the world around you now.
It’s something cruel, really, that the spider that bit you gave you these powers, and nothing to go back and fix your mistakes. Your perceived victories. Your losses.
But the worst has already happened, and the only one left to die is you, so you carry on. You don the suit every day, you sew up your own injuries on the top floor of the abandoned offices that you’ve claimed as your own. Each day, you wake when you choose, you sleep when you want to, and you work yourself down to your very bones with nobody to object.
The hollow feeling in your gut is a pain you have no choice to ignore, to smother with assurances that this is freedom. What else could it be? You do whatever you so please, you spend your time swinging through the streets of New York rather than doing schoolwork at home, you eat all the junk you could ever have wanted.
It’s freedom. It has to be.
You tell yourself that you don’t miss the home part of having to do schoolwork, promise your heart that you don’t miss home-cooked meals as opposed to greasy food that leaves you unsatisfied. You swear that you like having nobody to tell you what to do. There’s no other choice, after all.
And each day, when you spend a little bit longer out on the streets, getting yourself into needless fights that the police could certainly handle, you tell yourself it’s because you’re protecting the city. You convince yourself that it’s not because of having an unending rage to satiate, or a permanent feeling of breathlessness when you leave police to handle anything, as if you could relive the moment your father, the captain, was left to handle something he couldn’t.
So, you’re almost relieved by the appearance of something… strange. Something dangerous. This is what you live for — this is your job.
You crouch against the wall, fingers splayed and suit itching where you had crudely sewn it back together across your ribs at an almost too-close call. You hold your breath, you watch. The lenses over your eyes shield your sensitive sight from the harshest colours of this new opponent, who looks almost… unreal. Too different to be a part of reality. He yells out, seemingly glitching? A distorted scream of what is apparently pain, accompanied by flashes of colour that are unfamiliar to you.
“Well, that doesn’t look good.” You comment, eyebrows raised beneath your mask, and the strange looking guy snaps his head towards you, long hair slapping across the goggles over his eyes. He bares his teeth at you, something almost resembling a grin marring his face.
“Spider-man!” He yells triumphantly, cackling as he wipes the hair away from his face, tendrils unfurling from behind his back and lifting him into the air.
“Not quite!” You call back, dodging below the metallic arm that shoots towards where your head was, crumbling through the wall. You try to think back to the jokes you used to tell to rile up whoever you were facing, but find your mind is blank. Instead, all you can think of is questions. “Where the hell did you come from, anyway?”
The man follows you as you spring from wall to wall, heading towards the center of the building where it tunnels up for about forty floors, balconies overlooking the fountain below. “A new spider, eh? Well I’ll take you down just as easily as I have the other!” He tells you, though you’re immediately suspicious of his statement. You’re the only Spider-related hero around, and even if you weren’t, you doubt this guy could squash a worm, let alone you.
“Sure thing, man.” You say, sighing, already exhausted by the repetitiveness that comes with every fight. Your opponents always say they’ll beat you, kill you, squish you, take you down, and yet you always get back up at the end of the fight, and they always remain defeated. When you started doing this, you never would have thought you’d get so tired from winning all the time.
And yet here you are, slipping further and further up the building with the octopus-looking guy chasing after you, metal arms crumbling walls and bannisters on his way up. He falters once more, another one of those glitch-like movements sending him down a few floors, but he’s quick to recover. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.
You crouch down on one balcony, somewhere around the thirty mark floor-wise, peering down at the guy as he shakes lingering pain from his body. He charges upwards, aiming to reach you quickly with an almost predatory smirk on his face. Before he can even get close to you, however, you’re back on the move, setting a trap for him that he doesn’t even seem to notice.
It’s only when a group of late workers emerge on what you’re pretty sure is the twenty-first floor that you become more anxious about this fight. You don’t like when civilians are involved.
There’s about a dozen of them crowding the balcony, looking up to where you’re facing off with octopus-man above, some having begun to descend the stairs to the next floor before catching on to your presence. You try not to draw attention to them, but their pointing and whispering sets the Spidey-sense off, ringing loudly between your ears, almost deafening in its intensity. Maybe you underestimated this guy. The flash of a camera sends the last hope of him not noticing down the drain, and he grins at you as he switches targets, climbing down towards them with some semblance of caution.
You’re much faster than he is, dropping down and using a web to catch yourself rather than having to climb. It’s hard to stop yourself from yelling at them, cursing them out for being so damn foolish — who in their right mind would stick around a very dangerous fight to take pictures?
Instead, you choose to yell, “Get out! Go, go, go.” And usher them down the stairs, but it’s not difficult to realise that this guy is going to get to them before they manage to descend to the bottom. You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Nothing is ever as simple as it could be, not for you.
The split second decision to drop down and form a net-like web low enough to catch the workers worked out for you in the end, as you swung back up and pushed the workers off of the balcony and stairway just as the octopus man was reaching them. He cursed at you, refocusing his efforts on you as you vaguely noted the workers clambering down after their screaming had stopped. Honestly — did people really have so little faith in you? Had you ever sent anybody to their death before?
“You are just as pesky of an insect as Spider-man!” He growled out, teeth gritted, and came after you with renewed force. He kind of reminded you of that doctor you faced not long after getting your powers, but this guy looked completely different. The doctor you faced — aptly named Doc Ock — had turned himself into some form of a mutant, he had reinforced tentacles which sprouted from his back. Was this guy some kind of copy cat? Maybe he was just delusional.
“I don’t know who Spider-man is, man!” You shout to him as you ascend the building again, trying to figure out the best way to take this guy down. His tentacles seem electronic, so surely you could disable whatever machinery resides on his back?
“That’d be me.” A voice came from above you, two floors ahead of your position. Your head snapped towards it, seeing a man in a blue and red suit, framed by a burst of orange behind him. He didn’t linger up there long, instead moving to leap down to the guy who had turned his attention to the new guy. The closer you looked at this new guy, the more similarities you saw to yourself — his webs looked remarkably similar to your own, the pattern that went across his suit matched your own, even the wide white lenses that shielded your eyes on your mask. Who the hell was this guy?
The octopus man grinned widely, shaking greasy hair from his face. “Ah, finally! The real Spider-man. Got yourself a new protégé, I see.” He drawled, dodging this new guy’s hit straight off of the bat. You tried not to get annoyed at being referred to as a protégé, considering as far as you were aware, you were the only Spider-person around. Where was this guy when you were holding a bridge full of civilians together? Where was he when you took down villain after villain, never once failing to get the guy? No — you were the real Spider-man, if anyone.
“I don’t know who you are, man, but I’m handling this just fine.” You call to the guy, swinging down to rejoin the fight, webbing the villain’s metal tentacles to the wall behind him, before dropping down to kick him towards the wall.
“Oh, so you know how to send this guy back to his own dimension?” Spider-man asks you, eyebrows raised beneath his mask, and as if on cue, the guy glitches once more, ripping his arms away from the wall and just about catching himself on a balcony below before he could fall into your net.
You gape at the new guy, glancing back up to where the burst of orange remains opened, and is that a portal? Is this Spider-man from another dimension? Is that why you’ve never heard of him before? God, if your mother was alive, she’d kill to find out about this. Inter-dimensional travel was something she had spent her life researching. If you didn’t remain so bitter toward her even after her death, you might’ve been sad she wasn’t alive to see this.
But you were bitter, and it made the experience all the worse.
Because you’re pretty sure that that bitterness takes the place of grief within you. It’s hard to understand why you crave to feel that pain, that grief, as opposed to the aching resentment that floods you with the thought of her. It’s such a sharp contrast to thinking of your father, your kind father, the man who threw himself into a battle he couldn’t have hoped to survive, just on the off chance he could save somebody. You hope you take after him.
“Wait— you’re from another dimension?” You question anyway, eyes flickering between the battle and the looming portal above. In fact, you’re so distracted by finding out about that tidbit of information that you miss octopus man aim a tentacle for you, and it snatches you around the ankle. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me—!”
The man waves you around like some kind of rag doll, and you try not to be too bitter about being caught off guard. You should probably learn that getting caught up in your little pity party always ends up badly, always distracts you from that renowned Spidey-sense. You formulate a plan in your mind when the drip of blood around your ankle draws your attention back to the battle at hand.
You web the wall opposite and hold on tight, pausing the movements and letting the dizziness that had come over you fade away. The man growls out in annoyance, and gets closer to cut the webs with another tentacle, which is exactly what you planned for. The tension from the webs launches you towards him when you let go, and in his surprise, the metal tentacle releases you. You wrap around him, and start webbing up the machinery embedded in his back as Spider-man distracts most of the tentacles, keeping them from pulling you off.
His tentacles start faltering, clearly not obeying his movements, and you wrap them up where they emerge from his back, continuing along until the movement is so limited that he has to use them all to clutch onto the nearest balcony.
You crawl up the tentacles in the very same spidery manner that you’re known for, and crouch, watching the octopus man struggle as Spider-man observes from the balcony opposite. “You wanna finish this one off, Spider-man?” You ask, unable to hide any bitterness from your tone at his mostly unhelpful actions throughout the battle.
“Hey, not bad!” He praises, and it annoys you. You’re good at what you do — for the most part. You manage without help constantly, and that’s the way you prefer it. “You’d make a good addition to the Spider Society!”
Now, you don’t know what the Spider Society is. But honestly? You don’t care. You don’t need help, and you prefer working alone, and you certainly don’t like feeling patronised.
“Whatever, man. Just send him back to whatever dimension he came from.” You tell the guy, and drop down as you hear sirens outside, landing on your injured ankle and just about stopping yourself from cursing. Through all the adrenaline and fighting, you’d forgotten about the way the metal had ripped into your skin, drawn blood. It’s just be another place you’d have to sew up your suit with itchy, uneven stitching. “Officers,” You greet as they open the doors, guns drawn, radios murmuring. “All taken care of. Civilians okay?”
“Shaken up, but fine.” The leading police officer says, immediately relaxing and holstering his weapon. You wish it reassured you that the police trusted you now, but it didn’t. Nonetheless, the other officers follow suit. “Thank you, Arachnid.”
The name your world has bestowed upon you has yet to grow on you, but you nod your head regardless, and salute them as you make your way out, swinging across the city, trying to put the existence of the multiverse and inter-dimensional travel out of your mind. Surprisingly, it’s pretty easy when you have a busted ankle to fix up.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
You’re halfway through stitching up your suit, having already sewn your skin back together with as much skill as you possessed in the matter — which was, not much. But the bleeding has stopped, and your stupidly slow healing will take care of it within a few days. You know that the itchy stitches on your suit will just irritate the injury, and though you wouldn’t lose anything if your identity was revealed, it doesn’t feel right to go out into the city with any part of you on show.
No, you wear the suit for a reason. You keep every part of yourself covered because nobody can know it’s you underneath the suit. Not because you had anything to lose, no, you had already lost everything. It was because then you could never make a mistake, you would have to be absolutely perfect, flawless, to make up for the fact that it was you underneath the layer.
So, you settle with a sewn suit that will itch and make the stitches on your ankle sting.
However, when there’s a burst of orange across the room, you have no choice but to forgo the suit, to simply drop the needle and thread and hover your fingers over your web shooters. You wait, nervously, for some other villain to appear. You’re not sure if Spider-man appearing would be better or worse.
But when a foot steps through the portal, it’s nobody familiar. In fact, it’s a suit you have never seen before, made up of dark blues and bright reds, sharp edges and long claws. It’s… unnerving, and considering the silence coming from the person wearing it, you’re not entirely certain of what they’re here for.
A moment later and another person steps through, a woman, with bright yellow lenses across her eyes that filter her irises into an amber. She steps forward, standing beside the person who had stepped through first, and if she hadn’t showed up, you would’ve been tempted to attack. With that being said, you remain on edge, but there’s something… comforting about her presence. Like her presence softens the man’s jagged edges.
She says your name, and then adds, “Arachnid.”
You furrow your brows and curse as you glance back at the suit so crudely laid out on the floor. Still, it doesn’t explain how she knows your name. Was it an inter-dimensional thing?
“Spider-man told us about your work in capturing Doc Ock earlier.” She tells you, as if that explains their presence. You did what you were supposed to do, which was take out the bad guys. “We’re here to offer you a place in the Spider Society.”
You can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of good cop, bad cop thing. She presents an offer which doesn’t sound too bad, and then her sharp-edged companion presents all the drawbacks and the catches. They don’t seem like the type to take no for an answer, either way. You still don’t even know what this Spider Society was! Was it some kind of multi-dimensional cult?
“I already told Spider-man that I wasn’t interested in joining whatever cult you’ve got going on.” You practically hiss, though you didn’t exactly tell him in such blatant words. You were more dismissive earlier, so you’d have to be clear now.
“It’s not a cult,” The man speaks, voice harsh and sharp much like the blades that branch from his forearms. “We work to protect the multiverse from anomalies that threaten to destroy it.”
The woman glances at him in a way that you translate as being vaguely annoyed, like he wasn’t approaching you in the way she had wanted him to. “He means to say that it’s a big job, and we need all the help we can get.” She says, softer, but only in comparison to the man’s harshness. “Listen, kid, you’re good at what you do. We need that kind of talent.”
“You’ll have to find it somewhere else.” You say firmly, because why would you want to leave your universe? This was a lot to think about when you had only learned of the multiverse existing mere hours ago. Regardless, you weren’t about to abandon your city just to go across the multiverse to help other heroes who couldn’t keep a leash on their own villains.
The two of them shared a look, a mere glance, before the woman heaved a sigh. “Look,” She sighed, heavily, like whatever she was about to say was something she didn’t want to be voicing. “Before you make your choice, you should know, your Green Goblin is currently terrorising another universe.”
You couldn’t work out if this was some kind of recruitment tactic, or something. That just wasn’t possible. You had put Gwen Stacy in the highest security prison after all antidotes to her goblin-tech failed. She was stuck in there — permanently. There was no way she had gotten out, let alone gotten out to another universe.
…Right?
It’s hard not to think of the memories at the mention of her—Green Goblin, not Gwen Stacy. Never Gwen Stacy. You wonder if this is where your fear comes from, the terrifying fact that you are remembered only for your mistakes. Because before she was the Green Goblin, she was Gwen. She was everything to you. She was the sun you orbited, the stars that charted your path. And it hurts, it hurts that you can only remember the blood and the dust and the destruction when you think of her.
People aren’t born as monsters, are they?
Like the spider that bit you, that invertebrate that so many fear, it was born the way it was. It was born with those fang-lined maws, with those eight legs and dozens of eyes. It was made into the monster it became, artificially crafted to deliver a venom that changed you forever. But it wasn’t born that way.
Surely, Gwen wasn’t either. She was kind. You remember that about her. You can remember her soft hands that used to hold your own, the loud laughter that always ended in a snort when she laughed at her own jokes, the gentle eyes that stared into your very soul. But those eyes are the very same ones that let her see through your mask, let her see exactly where to hit you to make it hurt. Was that what she was born as? Or is that what she was made into? A killer. A monster.
“Show me.” You say, because what else could you possibly respond? If what they’re saying is true, if the Green Goblin is loose once more, then people will die.
You can’t let her get fresh blood on her hands. Not when somewhere, deep inside your chest, so far down it’s almost unreachable, you have hope for her. You have an innate desire to look for the best in her, even when the Gwen you knew was the first life that the Green Goblin took.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
If there’s one thing you’ve taken from being Arachnid, it’s to expect the unexpected. And you go through the orange portal after Jessica Drew and Miguel O’Hara with that exact mindset about you, staring at where an orange watch-like device is wrapped around your wrist.
It’s in your nature to be suspicious, and these people weren’t an exception to that.
In fact, their presence only heightened that behaviour. After all, what were you to expect from two Spider people, who supposedly came to you for your help?
You weren’t blind, you saw the aged lines of their faces the moment you got close enough to see them clearly, away from the dim lighting of the building. They were adults, adults who had clearly been doing this type of thing a lot longer than you had. You, who was barely bordering on adult, who had fought enough battles already to last a lifetime — so why would they need you?
It didn’t feel right.
And when this Miguel person summoned Lyla the moment you walked through the portal, it felt all the more wrong. She was a hologram of some kind, much higher tech than the kind of thing you saw on your earth. But then again, you had never really been in high tech labs back in your earth. Still, it unsettled you. “Lyla, get me the location of Green Goblin, Earth 5011.” He commanded, and they argued in hushed voices for a moment, before a wider hologram appeared, stamped at Earth 3899.
“How did she get to another universe?” You ask, then, because it doesn’t make sense, and you’re shaking underneath the thin material of your suit. You’re hyper aware of each drag of stitching against the wound on your leg, each patch of fabric you had sewn on in hopes of the suit lasting you just a little longer, because you didn’t have the resource to produce a new one.
“It’s an anomaly.” Jessica Drew tells you, her tone softer than you’d heard it, as if she was attempting to reassure you in some way.
It didn’t help. But how could it? The last time you had faced Gwen Stacy—Green Goblin— you had lost so much. It had been the beginning of the end of everything good in your life. The explosion she had caused at your mother’s laboratory was the very same one that killed her, the very same explosion that sent you and your dad miles apart all while living in the same home. And still, you found a way to hope that there was something to salvage within Gwen.
But not only had you lost your mother, and not long after — your father, you had also lost your closest friend. The one person you had confided in, who knew you from your surface to the deepest level, and she had used that against you the moment the Goblin had taken over.
It had taken everything in you to beat her, back then.
And that was on home turf! How did these people expect you to do that a second time, in a completely unfamiliar place?
“Specifics aren’t important right now. Jessica, you take Arachnid. Lyla, send another one of the teams.” Miguel instructed, dismissing your questions right off the bat. It was frustrating. They were leaving you completely in the dark, and sending you to fight the worst enemy you had ever faced, and they were sending you alongside others like you from different universes. It was like asking you to bare your soul in front of them, to reveal your secrets, your deepest regrets, everything that you wanted to stay buried.
You knew Green Goblin. You knew that’s exactly what she would do. She would undermine you, she would lay your life out in front of you like tiles on a scrabble board. In the end, none of it amounted to much.
Jessica Drew made her way out, glancing at you and nodding for you to follow along. Your moment of hesitation had drawn Miguel’s attention, and he called out to you after a moment of hesitation. “We’ve all faced one like it, kid. It’s easier with others.” He told you, though he held a pained expression on his face all the while. Instead of admitting to the way he had hit the nail right on the head, you simply nodded and followed after Spider-woman.
It was a whirlwind from there.
Meeting up with others. Travelling the length of the so-called Lobby to wherever it was that Jessica was taking you. When you finally arrived, she offered an empty glass box with a mannequin inside, bare. She gestured towards it like it should’ve been self explanatory, but soon realised she’d have to spell it out for you.
You shouldn’t have been so upset by the offer of a new suit.
But you were.
This suit was your life. You had nothing outside of it, not anymore. You couldn’t just throw it away, as if it meant nothing, as if every rip and patch and wonky stitch didn’t mean anything. These were proof that what you were doing was real, that it was worth something. Each stitch proved you had value. You weren’t about to throw all of that away, especially for whatever overly technical suit these people would provide.
You had everything you needed.
And so Jessica led you to the next destination: Earth 3899.
The moment you stepped through the portal, it was like you were hit with a wave of familiarity. And not in a positive, slightly nostalgic way, no— this was chaos. This was the state your world had been in when Green Goblin ran riot, unchecked. She had torn apart buildings, blown up parks, she had set New York City aflame. And she was doing exactly the same here.
It was more contained here than it had been on your earth, and you had to assume that was thanks to the Spider-man already on site, coordinating police, ambulance and fire responses to douse the fires as quickly as she set them. If only the police in your city had trusted you so much, back then.
“Where is she?” You ask, the moment you get close enough to speak to the resident Spider-man of the universe. He looks at you as if you’re familiar, but doesn’t comment, instead just pointing a finger toward a skyscraper just a short way ahead. You’re gone the moment he tells you where to go.
She had the uncanny ability to stay quiet. It had freaked you own back on your own earth, but it was even more terrifying here, where things were ever so slightly different.
“Arachnid.” Gwen’s voice called, and for a moment, you could forget. You could forget every horrible thing the Goblin had done, and you could remember your friend, your Gwen, who had called out to Arachnid more than once without knowing it was you behind the mask. Whether it was for a story or to provide information on your most recent opponent, the voice calling your alias was familiar. But then there was that crackle of laughter, an unnatural gurgle in the way it left her throat, and you turned to see the green-tinged pallor of her skin. “I was so hoping you’d show up.”
You didn’t know how much her appearance would effect you, until you were stuck to the side of the building, staring at what had once been your best friend. You’re so choked up that you can’t even formulate a response, because you want that to be Gwen so badly, but you know it isn’t. The more you look at her, the more Goblin you see, the more you know that the Gwen you love is never coming back.
“Nothing to say?” She asks, and then says your real name, the name she used to say down the crackle of a phone line, or across the school hallway, and she smiles. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
“You should’ve stayed in prison, Gwen.” You say, your voice unsteady as you say her name aloud for the first time in what must be forever. She seems to relish in the tremble of your voice, and you have to curse yourself for being so stupid, for already showing the vulnerability she was so easily able to pick out.
The Green Goblin tutted at you, stood atop her glider, but the smile you saw didn’t belong to Gwen. “You’re pathetically predictable, you know. You’re like a moth to the flame.” She tells you, and you fear that she’s right, that you’re the same person you were back when you fought her, back when she almost won. She sighs, like something heavy is weighing upon her, but it turns wistful in the blink of an eye. “I’m just glad your dad isn’t here to see this. He’d be so disappointed.”
“Arachnid, focus.” Jessica’s voice interrupts, before you can spiral down that rabbit hole. How did Gwen even know about your father? She was in prison long before he died. It didn’t make sense.
“Maybe,” You say, that familiar tremble around your words. “He did always hope for the best for you.”
She bares her teeth at your words, the only visible reaction before her mask is slipping over the bottom of her face, stretching out up to pointed ears, all metallic and tinted a murky green. Then, she’s attacking.
It’s muscle memory, mostly, you think.
If you don’t think too hard about it, it could be like playing a game with a longtime friend from your childhood. You know the moves to make, you know how she’ll respond. It’s a constant push and pull, a balance which leaves only destruction behind, the path of the Green Goblin’s wrath tangible in each battle scene the two of you leave behind. You can’t beat her like this.
It’s her glitching that gives you a slight upper hand — and you send her careening off of her glider to the ground below.
Your heart squeezes suddenly in your chest as you watch her fall, her eyes wide in what could almost be perceived as fear. If you didn’t intervene, would she die? Would you have put an end to her story, once and for all, when you secretly hope there’s a cure out there for her? You can’t bear the thought of finding out, of watching her die, and so you foolishly dive after her.
A web to her midsection allows you to grip her before she hits the ground, and you set her down with a far more gentle hand than you would ever admit.
She says your name, then, a whispered version of it that sounds like Gwen. You think you can see her in those wide blue eyes, in that stare, and you approach with some caution. “Gwen,” You say, more of a question, “You with me?”
“I’m with you,” She answers, as you reach her side, as you resist the urge to pull off your mask. You’re so preoccupied staring at her expression that you don’t see the blade until it’s too late, your Spidey-sense failing you as you wallowed in your search for someone who was gone. “You sweet, predictable bug.” She spits then, twisting the blade she had sunk deep into your side, and you writhe, trying to move away from her.
“Arachnid!” Jessica Drew calls out, drawing the Green Goblin’s attention, allowing you to pull away from her slackened grasp. You leave the blade where it is, knowing your only slightly enhanced healing wouldn’t make up for the onslaught of blood that would pour from the wound. “I think that’s enough, Green Goblin.” Jessica says, riding a motorbike that you swore she didn’t have earlier. Nonetheless, she uses it to put even more space between you and your villain.
“You need a hand, kid?” A new voice asks, and a gloved hand reaches out for you where you had knelt against the tarmac. You look up, seeing a new Spider-man, but this one has his mask up, showing off his aged face and the bags underneath his eyes. You wave him off, staggering up to your feet, and clench your jaw as you stare at Green Goblin, watch as she pulls bombs from her waistband, barely the size of a chocolate bar, but capable of causing irreparable damage. “Get back to HQ, Arachnid, we can handle this.” Spider-man tells you, in what you suspect to be a fatherly voice, but you ignore him.
Time flies, slips out of your grasp, and you don’t know how long you and the others spend fighting Green Goblin, but she proves to be just as difficult of a foe for them to face as she was for you. Each time the three of you manage to get the drop on her, she slips away before she could be caught. It’s frustrating, and you can even see the way irritation thickens in the air, tangible.
Spider-man, or Peter, as Jessica had called him, is with you, focusing on trying to take Green Goblin down, whilst Jessica Drew is focused on damage control, blowing up Gwen’s bombs before they could hit their intended targets. You’re pretty sure the resident Spider-man is around here, too, pulling any lingering citizens out of harms way before Green Goblin could end them. You’d admit, it works better than you had done alone back on your own earth.
But it doesn’t work well enough, and more than one building is damaged almost beyond repair, and in the dust and rubble, Peter was distracted by the few citizens poking their heads out of the gaping hole in the side of their apartments. He didn’t see Green Goblin coming until it was too late, until she had thrown two of her bombs, one towards him, and one towards the already wrecked building.
Your throat dries up as you try to figure out what to do, who to go for, but in the end, you don’t have to choose.
Beams of glowing orange webs shoot into the bombs where they arc towards their victims, blowing them up and leaving both Peter and the civilians in the apartments without a scratch on any of them. Well, nothing that wasn’t already there before. You see him then, running alongside Jessica Drew, none other than Miguel O’Hara — who clearly didn’t think that the three of you were capable of handling Green Goblin.
“We’ve gotta end this.” Peter tells the three of you, glaring over at Green Goblin after coming so close to one of her bombs.
“You distract, I’ll go in.” You say, the only plan that makes sense. The only plan that’ll work. You wouldn’t be much use as a distraction, not with the blood still pooling around the blade hanging from your side, but you could beat her. You knew you could.
Peter nodded, and he, Jessica and Miguel went in one after another, landing hits on Green Goblin before she could even think to withdraw another bomb, or land a hit of her own, whilst you made your way behind her, swinging as high as you dared to go in your state. She was getting angry, you could tell, a distinct flush rushing up the back of her neck, a tell that Green Goblin shared with Gwen.
It was only when she was starting to turn the tide that you jumped down from your spot against the side of a building, looking for your opening.
She sent Jessica Drew tumbling off of her motorbike, which was your chance.
Green Goblin heard you only a moment before you were on her, not giving her a chance to make a countermove. Instead, you were curling your arms around her, as tight as you could, holding her hands away from her waistband. You gripped the blade in your side and yanked it out, holding it to her chest, breathing heavily through the pain as you bared your teeth at her, her face beside your own.
“Don’t make me kill you.” You say, and try not to hear the pleading in your own voice, the distinctive tone of a beg. You may have the upper hand on her, but as always, she had the power. “Don’t.” You repeat, because you can feel it in your bones that you would do it. If it was the choice between her or the hundreds that she would kill on this world, it would be those hundreds. There was no doubt about it, no questions to be asked.
You may have resented your mother, but she wasn’t the only one who died because of the Green Goblin. You wouldn’t let that happen again.
Perhaps she heard the plea in your voice, the giveaway that you weren’t bluffing, because she went still in your arms, still enough for the other Spiders to approach with some caution, eyes on her hands where you held them away from any weapons, using your forearm connected to the hand holding the blade to her chest to keep her left hand from grasping anything.
“I won’t be asking again.” You tell her, which is as much of a threat as you can muster. Or, more so, a promise.
As Miguel pushed you back with a firm hand, throwing a machine at Gwen’s feet, you think she understands. If the two of you are ever in that position again, there will be no hesitation about it. You will kill her.
“Good work, kid.” Peter says as Miguel and Jessica get to work with getting your Green Goblin through a portal to the HQ. He glanced down at where your hand is now pressing into your side, blood pouring steadily. In your other hand, you still hold the blade that had pierced your own skin, that would have killed Gwen Stacy had she not surrendered. He winces as if it’s him who got hurt, and guides you through the portal after the others. “C’mon, we’ll get you checked out. You not got enhanced healing?” He asks, though you suspect he doesn’t expect you to answer, and you’re glad.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
“I can do this myself, you know.” You sigh, wincing as a Spider-man — who apparently is also a doctor and works in the Spider Society’s infirmary — stitches up the wound on your midsection. It’s uncomfortable, though less painful that when you do it yourself. Still, it’s uncomfortable to accept help from these strangers.
“Ooh, shouldn’t say that to him.” Peter B. Parker laughs, one of the many Peter Parkers of the Society, but the same one who had fought Green Goblin with you. “He’ll lecture you on proper healthcare for days if you give him the opportunity!”
The Spider-doctor glares at Peter, or you assume he does, from the slight squint of the lenses of his mask. He kisses his teeth under the mask, tutting, muttering about “Spiders and their complete disregard for their health. Lucky you haven’t died ten times over from infections.” But he doesn’t say anything that requires a response from you, and he soon finished up the stitches. He goes to offer to fix up the injury on your ankle, but you’re up on your feet before he can even get the words out.
“Now, I gotta get back home to the wife, but Miguel wants to see you. He’ll take you home,” Peter tells you as he walks out of the infirmary by your side, but he stops you in the hallway with a hand on your shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “If that’s what you want.”
Your eyebrows furrowed before you could stop them, and the confusion over his words must’ve been written all over your face.
“Why wouldn’t I want that?” You ask, defensively.
Peter opens his mouth, but nothing escapes. Instead, it’s his expression that tells you everything he’s thinking. The crease between his brows screams pitying, or sympathetic. He’s talking about the way you live back on your earth, about the life you lead, Arachnid by day, and by night. With no room for you, no room for your secret identity. He’s thinking of the way you’ll be returning to a world with nobody awaiting you, with not a soul to look out for you, to stitch you up after a battle. Nobody but yourself, anyway.
You pull away from him, brows furrowing further, into an almost angered expression, and you don’t watch the way his hand falls away from your shoulder back to his side. He sighs when you turn away, scoffing as you make your way through the hallways of the Lobby towards where you think Miguel will be.
It’s overwhelming, all of these people. They all believe that they know you, that they know your circumstances, your story, but the truth is that they don’t. Nobody does, and that’s the way you prefer it. You don’t need a Society of Spiders surrounding you, breathing down your neck, telling you they’re sorry, or not trusting you to handle yourself in your own fights, because you can handle yourself. You’ve spent the last year of your life trying to prove that, trying to prove that you can do good things, that you’re worthy of the title Arachnid. You certainly shouldn’t need to prove that to a whole Society of people like you, most of which had been doing the job a lot longer.
You’re capable and you’re content.
You don’t need a life as your secret identity to be content, in fact, it’s better without one. You don’t have to tell so many lies, don’t have to worry about hurting the people you love, because there are none of them left. There’s nobody to hurt, and there’s nobody to lie to. Why would you want to change that?
The hallway ahead looks familiar, and you follow it until you enter a room where Miguel stands, looking at orange tinted screens on a platform halfway up the room. You enter with the absolute certainty that you want to return to your own earth, and you’re not going to let anybody stop you.
“I’m ready.” You tell him, expectantly.
He scoffs, saying nothing, still staring at the screens in front of him. For whatever reason, the reaction makes you angry — inexplicably so. You’re slinging up to the platform before you can have a second thought about it, and you’re pushing his shoulder so he’ll face you, so he’ll acknowledge you.
He stares at you, unimpressed.
“Send me back to my earth.” You press, brows furrowed beneath your mask, but you’re sure he can see the anger in the way your shoulders tense up.
“Sure,” Miguel said blankly, staring at you as if you’d suddenly change your mind or something. “But you know, there’s a lot more like her.” He added on when you said nothing, waiting for him to send you back to your world so you could give him back the stupid watch still wrapped around your wrist.
You stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “There are no more like her.” You respond, feeling that hot press on your chest. You don’t want to talk about Gwen Stacy anymore than you’re sure he’d like to talk about whatever he had gone through in his life. Hell, you don’t even want to think about her, but you know that nobody else you would ever have to face would hurt you in the way that she did. In the way that having to see her as an enemy, rather than your friend, had hurt. So, yeah, there was nobody like her, not for you.
Miguel seems ready to let you go for a moment, but then he’s shaking his head at you. “You have a place here. You can be with people like you. You don’t have to do this alone, anymore.” He says, and you think that is ironic, because you don’t see anybody else in here. To you, it seems like he is doing exactly that; doing the job alone. You can practically see the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“I prefer being alone.” You tell him, and it has to be true. It has to be.
His jaw sets, acceptance, you think, and he nods. He glances past you, to where a portal was open on the floor below. Considering that you hadn’t seen him set up the portal, you’d wager that his AI Lyla must’ve listened in and done it for him. You pull the watch off of your wrist, relishing in the way your very atoms seem to sag with the weight of being in another dimension.
“Thanks.” You say, and drop down, landing on your sore ankle but not murmuring a word about the pain. You walk back to your world with your head held high, despite your tattered suit and multitude of wounds that would take days to stop hurting.
Miguel stares after you as the portal closes, eyebrows furrowed. He barely acknowledges Jessica Drew’s arrival in the room, already having known she had been lingering in the hallway, listening in. “Well, that went well.” She comments, glancing between where the portal had been and where Miguel stands, brooding. She knows how much pressure he puts on himself, and she knows that he cares about each and every Spider-person in the multiverse. It doesn’t take a Spider-sense to see the way in which you struggle. It’s a familiar struggle, sure, but there were so many Spiders across the multiverse who had a shoulder to lean on in their hardest times. Who did you have? There was no Aunt May for Arachnid, or Gwen Stacy, or Harry Osborne, or, well, anybody.
Jessica thinks that if anybody were to know exactly how that felt, it would be Miguel.
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floatyflowers · 2 months
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Dark Platonic Father! Spiderman x reader
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Peter Parker never imagined ending up as a single young father.
But it happened, and he doesn't regret it at all, even though it is hard to take care of a child while being a superhero.
Adding to that, he is keeping his identity a secret from you.
Why? because you have phobias from spiders
He always makes sure you get to school on time and helps you with your homework.
Spiderman is incredibly protective of you, always making sure you're safe and sound, even if it means breaking a few bones while saving the world.
Peter is your biggest fan, cheering you on from the sidelines at every performance you do.
And if a parent or a student makes fun of you, he doesn't mind paying them a visit and 'putting them in their places'
And by that, I mean he scares the living hell out of them.
Even if he is always busy, but all his free time is spent with you, because he believes his life should revolve around him.
So imagine his shock when he discovered that you have friends.
He felt betrayed
Yes, he flew to their houses dressed as Spiderman and made them swear to stay away from you or he will eat them alive.
Maybe it's Venom who is starting to effect his behaviour.
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faesdreaming · 10 months
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Yandere Miguel O’Hara Headcanons
a/n: there are two routes platonic and romantic, which will be bolded and colour-coded like this, please forgive my spanish i am breaking out my high school spanish classes.
tw: yandere themes, possessive, obsessive, and controlling behaviour, potential spoilers, suggestive themes (romantic route), captivity, canonical inaccuracies, implied neglect (platonic route)
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•Becoming the hero Arachnid wasn’t something you ever planned on happening. You were just going about your regular, every day life when a radioactive spider bit you. The spider that bit you gave you amazing powers that you utilized to become the amazing, the one and only friendly neighbourhood Arachnid! Then, you were suddenly pulled into another dimension that was almost exactly like yours and discovered that you weren’t the only one of well you after all.
•You, alongside other spider-themed heroes, joined forces against Kingpin in order to return to your home dimensions. However, that wasn’t your last adventure with the multiverse. Your next encounter would occur a few months after your first misadventure. Having finished fighting the Green Goblin, you were ready to end the night there. Then, a portal similar to the one that brought you to Miles’ dimension opened up. Out came a tall, well-muscled Spider-Man and a Spider-Woman
•They introduced themselves as Miguel O’Hara and Jessica Drew and informed of the Spider society they’d formed. You were offered membership by them. Well, by Jessica. Miguel was staying silent. You don’t know why, but you felt as though he was watching you. He was, of course, he was right in front of you, but this felt eerie. Your senses were telling you something was wrong but Jessica was so nice and you really were excited and honoured to be given such an opportunity. So, you take it.
Romantic Route:
•Miguel stared at you intently. He’d been watching you for a while now, observing. You resemblance was uncanny— you looked exactly like his spouse. Not his spouse exactly, but the one the other had. You looked like the partner that Miguel had grown to love alongside his daughter. A variant of them. Although he was initially against you joining, it would be easier to watch you— look out for you if you joined the lobby.
•After your acceptance, Miguel tasked Jessica with guiding you around the lobby. He didn’t trust anyone else and he couldn’t bare to do it himself. He couldn’t handle himself around you. It wasn’t just your appearance that was uncanny, it was everything. You mannerisms, habits, likes, interests, everything. How Miguel yearned for you. Yearned to feel your touch, your kiss. Yearned for the happiness he once knew.
•But that would break the canon, wouldn’t it? The memories of his world, his family fading from existence because he broke the canon. He couldn’t let that happen again. So, he behaved coldly towards you. But as Miguel continued to watch you and interact with you, he started to doubt. You were a variant of his partner, but your dimension didn’t have a variant of Miguel O’Hara. Perhaps, he rationalized, this was canon. Your fates were meant to be intertwined. He needed you and you needed him. That was canon.
•Miguel strikes when you least expect. Spends weeks carefully planning. He stalks you, memorizes your routine to a point. He assigns you a mission, not overly-difficult but not easy. Something to tire you out. With your senses dulled and the weariness from the fight left you susceptible to his attack. Quickly, stealthily and by surprise, he subdued you. His sharp fangs biting into the tender skin of your neck, paralyzing you.
•When you come to, you find yourself in an unfamiliar room. Yet there are familiar objects lying around; trinkets and photos that had disappeared. Your spidey-senses were going off the rails and that’s when he came.
“Miguel?”
•He tells you you’re here for your safety and for the safety of your dimension. Swears you’re meant to be with him, that it’s canon. Warns you of the consequences if you break the canon. You stare at him, intaking his audacity. Then, you shriek at him. Call him out on his absolute bull. Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He ignores your screeching and leaves. Obviously, you’re still in shock. You’ll come around.
•Almost a month later, lo and behold, you still haven’t come around to being pliant with your captor. Miguel is a man of many things, but patience is not one. He is so very tired, having to deal with Lyla’s teasing and the other Spider’s bullshit. Is it too much to ask to come home to his loving spouse? Just like he used to.
•Apparently, it is. Seeing as you aren’t his spouse, but someone he locked up, you scream at him. Unholy screeches whenever you see him. Today, Miguel’s had enough. Large hands wrap around you and slam you against the headboard of the bed you’re chained too.
“Enough.” He hisses. “¡Mierda! I won’t hear it. ¿Me entienden? You stay here. If the safety of the multiverse won’t convince then maybe the safety of your aunt will.”
•The moment the vague threat passes over you freeze entirely. You’ve lost almost everyone, everyone but her. Carefully, you suck in air. Large tears brim at the edges of your eyes. as you look Miguel directly in the eyes. His eyes, dark and dangerous, bore back into yours.
“Please Miguel,” you whisper. “I’ll stay. I’m sorry. Don’t hurt her.”
•Miguel softens at your submission. However, he still doesn’t trust you. He pulls himself off you and stalks out, leaving you laying on the bed, dazed. From that day forewords, you become more compliant. You listen to Miguel and don’t fight him. Miguel knows that he can’t keep you locked away forever. People were asking questions. With your ‘good’ behaviour, you’ll be granted more privileges. More freedom, if that’s what you can call it. You’ll never truly be free, trapped under Miguel’s watchful eyes. But you’re able to go into the lobby again. To talk with people, even if you do so bearing Miguel’s marks. You know you can’t escape him, not when he could take away the little you had left, not when he would hunt you down through every universe. For now, you know you can’t escape Miguel’s grip.
Platonic Route:
•When Miguel saw you for the first time, he felt the world stop around him. It was as though there was nobody else but you and him. You, who was the only variant of his dead child that wasn’t truly his. He watched as you swung around, mocking villains and making clever quips. Miguel’s heart ached for you, for himself, for his dead daughter and child. As he watched you, memories of holding his child as they died because of him resurface. Once more, does Miguel feel the bitter sting of grief and loss.
•Oh, how Miguel desires to hold you, to cradle you close and never let go. But he can’t, he won’t. You’re not his child. You’re not the child he failed to protect. No, you’re a child he can protect. Thus, his decision to allow you to join the spider-society, if only to watch over you and protect you. Your family clearly isn’t doing a good job at it. Miguel spends more time than necessary looking after you. Not that he meant to, of course. You were just so vulnerable. You needed guidance. You may have been s superhero but you were also a child.
•Under Miguel’s guidance you thrive. He teaches you proper fighting techniques, improves your web-shooters and other tech you have and acts as the father figure you need. His teaching method is firm yet gentle. Miguel remains stern, however, everyone notices how soft he is with you. Life is good in the lobby. To be honest, sometimes you consider staying forever. Or more accurately, Miguel implies you should.
•Yes, he was originally not going to interfere. But it was you who made the decision to stay, so obviously that meant something. And Miguel wouldn’t lie, whenever you returned to your Earth to fulfill your duties as Arachnid, he could barely think he was so worried. Every villain encounter, every scrape and bruise is another chance to fail to protect his child. Miguel gets more desperate over time. Your time in the lobby is almost exclusively spent with him. Every mission is with him, every meal is with him, almost every moment is spent by Miguel’s side. And honestly? You’re starting to get s little sick of it.
•Not that you were complaining. You’re so grateful for the opportunities Miguel gave you, but he’s so overbearing. Maybe it’s normal, you rationalize, you’re family isn’t very close. Besides, you’ve seen Peter B. Parker with Mayday. Even Miguel isn’t that clingy. Your senses are blaring danger and to get away, but your yearning for love and affection suppress them. You continue to push down your instincts until you can’t. Until you decide to listen to your doubts— only to prove them wrong, of course. However, just your luck, your instincts are proven correct. You discover a goddamn tracker implanted in your arm.
•Finally, everything clicks. Everything Miguel does? Not normal! Just creepy, especially this. Thus, you decide to leave. You dig out your tracker and stitch the wound back up. You leave the tracker where you know Miguel will find it and leave, discarding your portal bracelet. You return to your Earth for the final time, intent on never leaving again.
•When Miguel returns to find your tracker and no trace of you, he goes ballistic. You left, he can’t protect you. You’ll get hurt, you’ll die. Miguel can’t risk losing you. He travels to your Earth in search of you. There, he tracks you down to find you losing badly against the Green Goblin. You’re clutch your ribs, bruised and bloody. The moment he sees you like this, Miguel enters a blazing fury. He attacks the Goblin viciously, pounding him until a sickening crunch is heard and the Goblin’s neck snaps. You collapse, from your injuries and the shock of witnessing Miguel kill the Goblin.
•Your chest seizes, hyperventilating. You can hear your heart beat racing as Miguel turns to you. He watches you panic and slowly paces towards you. You attempt to scoot away, but you can barely move. Miguel’s mask is off. You can see his eyes being filled with the same eerie softness as the day you met. Carefully, he leans down and large hands grasp onto you. You struggle as best you can, squirming despite the pain.
“¡Ay! Cariño.” He admonishes gently. “Be still, you’ll hurt yourself.”
•Regardless of his orders, you continue to squirm. Sighing, Miguel extended his fangs and bit down on your neck. Paralyzed, you fall limp in his arms. Carefully, he maneuvers you so to not hurt you. He cradles you to his chest as he inspects you over.
“We’ll get you checked out when we go to your new room. ¿Estàts bien?”
•Unable to do anything, you lay helpless in Miguel’s arms as he takes you to your new fancy prison cell— or room as he calls it. From there, you’ll be safe. Somewhere only Miguel knows, a place he can be certain he can protect you. Yes, you’ll stay locked away in your gilded cage, guarded by Miguel. Safe from the world, from every threat but him.
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punkeropercyjackson · 3 months
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My son he has every gender
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mooooonnnzz · 9 months
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Miguel taking his daughter to spider HQ?
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Miguel takes his daughter to HQ! How bad could it be?
✎ my brain is brewing with words
✎ fem reader!!
✎ send more ideas cuz my brain is in writing mode rn hehe
✎ oh miguel is also lil grumpy here bc why not
✎ ok thats all!! :p
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Miguel is very hesitant to bring you to HQ. He doesn’t want to have you near harm's way. Plus, there would be nothing for you to do there so what’s the point?
Though, you’re persistent and didn’t take his no for an answer.
He eventually gave in when you roped Lyla into it. He couldn’t deal with two annoyances at once. (He means it endearingly)
So, he brings you to HQ—against his will
Your eyes sparkled with amazement as you took in the place. The area was huge. “This place is so cool!” You marveled. You look over to Miguel, beaming brightly. “This is awesome!” You whispered and yelled, your attention going back to the Spider-People who swung and walked by. Miguel shook his head in amusement, a smile pulling to his lips. As you continued to wander off, he noticed you were walking a little close to the edge. “Cuidado!” His webs shoot around your waist as you near the edge. He pulls you into his chest, letting out a relieved sigh. “You have to be careful when you’re walking around here.” He’s following you like a hawk after that.
Since it’s your first time there, everyone jumps to the assumption that you’re another Spider-Woman who Miguel or Jess recruited.
Miguel is quick to squander those ideas. He informs them that you’re his daughter and he’s showing you the place.
They all have to take a moment. They’re all like, “What? Miguel has a daughter?”
When they ask why he never told them, he responds by saying; “You never asked.”
“That’s your daughter?” Peter B. Parker was gagged. He couldn’t comprehend the fact that Miguel had a daughter. “How come you never talked about her?!” His eyes are blown wide and his jaw is slack. Like, Miguel O’Hara has a daughter?! “I do. You just don’t listen.” He grumbled out, sending an icy glare to Peter. Miguel does talk about you, it just gets overshadowed by how much Peter talks about Mayday. “What? When!?” Peter sputters out. “All the time.” You roll your eyes at Miguel’s cold behavior. “Papi, don’t be mean.” Miguel’s pinched expression visibly softens at your words, right when Miguel is about to apologize, Peter turns over to you excitedly. “Do you want to meet my daughter?” Miguel lets out a long sigh. “Mayday would love to meet you!” Peter grins. “Speaking of the little devil, where is she?” He looks around, lips downturned into a frown. He cups his hands around his mouth. “Mayday!” Another sigh leaves Miguel’s lips. “Mayday, honey! Where are you?” Miguel takes this opportunity to grab your shoulder and walk away from Peter. Once he’s far enough, he gives you a tense smile. “Oh, there you guys are! For a second I thought you ran away from me.” Peter swings right next to Miguel, Mayday sitting comfortably in her baby carrier. The smile on Miguel’s face drops. “Anyways, meet Mayday!”
Miguel dreads the moment when you have to meet Gwen, Miles, Pav, and Hobie. They always bug him about you, wondering when he’ll bring you over.
They’ve seen him see videos of you and him on his little holograms as he worked, he isn’t secretive about you.
Plus, whenever he gets the chance to talk about you, he doesn’t hesitate to start blabbering.
So they know pretty much almost everything about you.
Blame Miguel
“Miigueel,” Gwen dragged out his name teasingly as she swung in front of you and Miguel. “Is this who we think it is!” Pavitr was brimming with excitement as he dropped right next to Gwen. “Is this Miguel’s daughter?” Hobie raised a brow as he leaned an arm on Pav’s shoulder. “About time we meet her!” Miles smiled, giving you a friendly wave. You wave back, chuckling to yourself. Miguel dragged a hand down his face as he groaned dramatically loud. “Estos son los imbéciles de los que te sigo hablando.” Miles' face dropped to an offended look. “Really?” Miles says. Hobie furrowed his brows. “What did he say?” He looked over to Miles in confusion. Pavitr shrugged. “I don’t know but I don’t think it was a good thing.”
The whole tour was a headache for Miguel. He couldn’t stay in one place without Gwen offering a new place to head to, or Hobie asking questions on how you manage to have a dad like Miguel.
Pav was adding his commentary to certain situations which drove Miguel up the wall. Miles was trying to strike up a conversation with you, trying to impress you by speaking in Spanish.
Then Peter came along and the whole thing fell into chaos
“Hold Mayday real quickly. I need to take a picture of you two!” Peter handed you Mayday and she fumbled in your hands until you managed to rest her on your side. “Picture? Can I join!” Pavitr jumped right next to you, striking a dashing smile as he struck a pose. Miles and Gwen swarmed in the photo, settling around you and posing. Gwen did a peace sign while Miles did bunny ears on Gwen. Hobie lazily smiled, body halfway into the frame. “Hobie, get your whole body in the photo!” Peter motioned Hobie to move into the frame. “I don’t wanna.” Hobie shrugged. Peter sighed and let him be, gleefully saying “Cheese!” as he snapped a few photos. “Oh, MJ is gonna love this!” Peter mumbled to himself. Mayday looked up at you, cutely babbling in her baby language. Her chubby arm grappled onto your shoulder and pulled herself up with her inhuman baby strength. “Oh! Peter, she’s climbing on me!” You watch in horror as she settles on your shoulder, only to fall back and luckily get caught by Miguel. “Oh, don’t worry. She does that.” Peter waves it off, eyes glued on the photos. “Por Dios,” Miguel murmured under his breath.
When you got home, Miguel swore to himself that he’d never bring you back over there.
You went back to HQ a day later.
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lolita-lollipop · 9 months
Note
Platonic yandere Miguel? You're an alt universe version of his daughter that he's taken in (aka kidnapped) so that he'll never lose her again, poor traumatized sod just wants a family again
Spiderweb
YANDERE MIGUEL O’HARA X READER
Preview:
When anomalies begin to enter universe 20477, Miguel is assigned to tracking them down. He wasn’t expecting to see himself, with a girl like you, scared and wide eyed on his arm. You were his, you just had to be.
(Platonic)
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He knew what you would be to him.
He knew who you were.
He knew he had to protect you.
He knew he wouldnt let you go.
He couldn't.
It was purely coincidental, seeing you, that is. He just happened to be in your plane of existence that day, chasing down an anomaly that was jumping from universe to universe every other day. None of the others were able to catch him, a fast fujjer he was. So Miguel was a last resort, the only one capable enough to catch the guy. There was a chase down the streets of whatever universe he was in, then a catastrophic fight near the center of the city.
This place was so similar to his own universe, The same skies, the same cities, the same feeling, the same sadness as his own realm. He wanted to get in and get out, that's all. In fact, he was moments- seconds even- seconds away from catching the anomaly, seconds away from leaving this sad awful reminder of what happened to him. And then he saw you and his world stopped in its tracks.
You were teary-eyed, crying like a little baby. A few pieces of concrete that had been knocked up from the ground during the fight had cut your cheek, leaving a small dribble of blood streaming down your face. There was such a fear laced in your eyes, such a terror that flooded your expression. But that wasn't what shocked him about you, as his eyes panned from you to the man you had your arms wrapped around, his face fell completely.
You were clutching onto him. HIM. Miguel o’hara. You had your arms wrapped around his, clutched tight in fear, the two of you were trapped against the side of a building with rubble that had eroded. He was him, you were holding onto him, you had to be his daughter, and the way you were looking to him for protection was enough to show the parental status he had.
He had a daughter again.
You were his daughter.
He stared at the sight of the two of you for a moment, sending a harsh glare to his copy, his fake. Whoever you were clinging to, whoever you were wrapped around, he couldn't protect you. Miguel wanted nothing more than to pull you up and take you with him, take you home. But he couldn't, he had to play this carefully. He's lost a daughter before, he wouldnt do this again.
Like a flash, the tall man dressed in a black and red suit disappeared completely, along with the anomaly. Leaving the Town square In rubble. You blinked, just once, and when you opened your eyes once more, you had been pulled out from the bone-crushing concrete and were laid across the grass. It was too fast for you to see the man who had done it, to see the way his hands lingered at your waist, to see how he swiped the blood off of your face, to see how he looked at you. Of course, you hadn't. Maybe if you had, you could've avoided this.
---
You were shaken, to say the least. Things like this, like supervillains flying through the air and shattering buildings and corroding concrete, throwing people around like frisbees. Things like this just didn't happen, not ever. So to be trapped like that, stuck in rubble covered in blood as you had to watch the scene unfold… You were terrified. Even more so when your father had been hurt.
It was fast for the two of you to get away from the scene, especially since whatever was happening screeched to a halt, and the two figures disappeared, leaving the police, and you, completely confused. You just couldn't understand what the fudd happened, how could two people just disappear? Why did this happen all of a sudden? Why did that man- Why did he look so familiar?
It was supposed to be a fun little outing between you and your dad, a walk in the park to go get some food and have a picnic, but before you knew it you were shoved against a wall with glass and rock stuck in your face, your dad holding you close To shield you from the chaos around. You had been squeezing your eyes shut tight enough that they itched and ached now.
You were in too much shock to be able to give the cops any valuable information they would even remotely need, too focused on the fact Things like this didn't happen here, they just didn't. You cried on the way home, holding your (now bandaged) dad tight as you could. He hushed you, comforting you to the best of his ability. But you were both tired, too tired to care about taking your dirty clothes off or going to actual bed.
You slept on the couch, on your dad that night.
But when you woke up the next morning, he was gone.
It wasn't too strange for him, working as a doctor he was often called in early mornings to late nights, too early for you to be up when he left. But still, something felt off about it this time, usually he would wake you up for a few moments to say goodbye and give you a kiss. There was none of that today, just you, left under a blanket lying down on the couch, cold and alone and still scared straight.
The house felt different, dead. Like something was weighing heavy in the air, dragging all the air down and making it suffocatingly tight in the room. You wanted to get out, to go outside and go on a walk or something. But yesterday… with what happened. The feeling of dread sat in the back of your head, forcing you not to step out of your apartment, too scared to leave but too bored to stay.
You sat on the couch all day basically, watching reruns of old sitcoms. You knew your dad wouldn't be mad that you didn't want to go to school today, most of the time he came home too tired to do more than eat and sleep so you doubt he would even notice.
The sound of the door opening, along with uncharacteristically light footsteps Alerted you that your dad was home again, you sat up, pushing the blanket off of your shoulders and sitting up on the edge of the couch to look at him. At the sight of him, your head fell into a tilt, he looked… not bad, but different. A little bit more tired looking, his wrinkles were far more set into his face, and his was shorter, and far less groomed than it usually was.
“Hola Papa. Did you cut your hair or something? It looks different.” You narrowed your eyes at him with a small smile. He nodded, staring at you with some foreign look in his eyes. Setting down the few grocery bags he held in his hands.
You blinked, and within a moment he was on top of you, embracing you in a tight hug. You were immediately lifted off of the ground with a slight squeal, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he held you tight, breathing in your smell. How odd. Your dad isn't like this. Not very touchy, he never showed too much affection. The hug lasted for what felt like hours of you in his arms, held tightly.
You came realization only a few seconds in that you liked it, this is what you needed, and it felt nice. All the dread from your system completely drained out as his arms got tighter and tighter, and tighter. Since when has your dad been so muscular? Last you can remember, he was softer, not as rough. Strange, isn't it?
“Mija. I missed you so much baby, so much.” he breathed in the smell of your hair again, pulling you higher up onto his chest. His words should've sent off red flags in your head, you had just seen him hours ago right? You stayed quiet, choosing to relish in the moment of comfort this gave you. His voice was scratchy and rough, like he'd been screaming.
“Me too. I didn't go to school today, too scared.” Your voice was muffled against his chest, but you could feel his heartbeat with every breath he took. At your words his arms tightened slightly, and you squished your face further onto his neck. He was like a human furnace, radiating heat in your too-cold apartment.
“Oh baby- I’m here now. I’ll protect you, you won't ever have to be scared ever again.” With that, he brought a hand up to cup the back of your head, and his lips met your forehead in a warm kiss. If you maybe hadn't been so wrapped up in the fact that this felt so warm, so nice, you would've noticed the look he held in his eye. How deranged he looked, how terrifying he was. Maybe you would've paid more attention to all the little things that weren't adding up about him.
“Mi ninita. I’m so glad you're okay, I will never leave you again.” The two of you shared a glance, and that heavy feeling of dread pooled back into your system. There was something else in his eyes, something terrifying. Maybe you were just tired, or maybe you had head trauma from yesterday.
Moments passed as you enjoyed the warm hug, before he began to move, still keeping you in his arms, but walking elsewhere, you muttered a small “Hm?” squirming slightly in attempts to get yourself back on your own two feet, but he just shook his head at you, and squeezed.
“I got dinner while I was out, empanadas. I figured we could eat in my bed and watch a movie, You'll sleep with me tonight” He took note of your confused face, then went on to continue “ I don't want you alone anytime soon, especially not with all that's happening in the neighborhood. You don't want to get hurt, right? “
You just shook your head, letting yourself relax in his grip. Truly when had he become so strong, or on a different note, as affectionate? Usually, your dad was exhausted, he loved you, yeah, you knew that, but coming home from a 12-hour hospital shift at an understaffed medical center drained him. He usually didn't have time, and when he did he really didnt know how to spend it.
You slept better than you ever have in your entire life that night, close to your dad in his bed, cuddled under a warm blanket with your father's arms relentlessly wrapped tight around you, caging you in… you didnt hate it.
The next few weeks were different, strange, and not like you were used to. Everything changed. At first, it was just the little things, the things you would usually glide over. Miguel would come home early, leave later, and bring you food and clothes and stuff you were never able to afford.
Kids at your school started avoiding you, even though you never did anything to make you avoidable. It was weird for you, to see such a sudden shift in your life. The weirdest part about it though, is you had no idea what changed.
Not long after though, it got worse. Your dad would look through your phone, something he never cared about before, he always excused it with the same “I'm just looking out for you mija”, but it felt like a lie. Eventually, your contacts list shifted and changed to your dad.. And your dad. If you got any texts or calls he would look at them before you could, and decline them.
You stopped going out of the house as much, he excused you from school, telling you that you needed a break after all the trauma you've been through in the past few weeks. And without school or friends, you didnt have any reason to go out unless it was for mail or groceries. Even then, sometimes your dad would walk with you or just go himself instead. Eventually it got to the point that you weren't allowed to go out, not by your own choice anymore..
And Miguel, he would tell you things about what was going on outside. How all of a sudden there were villains on every corner, people were dying every day, crime was high. It scared you, and he clearly knew that, he used it to keep you inside, to keep you from going out.
It just got to the point where you did nothing, absolutely nothing. And you were tired of it. You wanted to go out, live your life and see people and see things, have fun with friends, do stupid teenager things. Things you should've already been doing. But he wouldnt let you, he made you stay inside, held you tight so you wouldnt leave.
And with the realization that this man was controlling you, your rose-colored glasses flew off of your face entirely. Your father wasn't like this, he barely cared enough to ask how your day was. Let alone keep you caged in your own home every day. Something was very very wrong. And just like that, it all snapped into place.
This isn't your dad. The way he acted, the way he walked, the way he held you, the way he looked at you, the way he controlled you, the way he comforted you when you were upset. There was not one thing about this man that made sense, not one similarity. Whoever this was, it wasn't your miguel ohara, it was a fake. A phony.
“Mija? Are you feeling sick? Whats wrong” He stared at you, letting his brows cluster together in worry. He had you sitting on the counter as he cooked, wearing one of your dads white t-shirts, it clung to his back muscles, showcasing the spider tattoo on the back of his neck. Your dad thought tattoos were trashy and unprofessional, and your dad most certainly did not have muscles like that. How had you been so daft as to miss that?
You stared, narrowing your eyes at the man who was wearing your dads clothing, your dads skin.
“Y/n?” he turned, placing the knife down on the counter, and grabbing your shoulders. The stranger stood in front of you, bending over to have his face at your level. He looked into your eyes, tilting his head. The position brought you back to your senses, and reminded you that this man, whoever he was, was extremely stronger than you were, and could overpower you without even thinking about it.
You snapped up. “Oh! Sorry. Just thinking.” you spoke with a shaky voice, grabbing his large hands with your own and straightening up from your slouched position on the counter. You met his gaze and squeezed his hand, his big hand. He was too big for you, you couldnt get away if he didn't want you to, you would have to be sneaky.
“What has you so deep in thought? Is my ninita daydreaming again?” a grin broke out on his face, showing his pearly canines. You returned the smile with a shaky breath. What were you supposed to do now? He hadn't made any move to hurt you yet, but he certainly could if he wanted to. You sent a glance towards the TV, where the local news was playing, the man left a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before turning around and picking his knife back up.
Your entire body went frigid at the sight of the tv, you inhaled a small gasp, bringing your hand up to your mouth.
“The body of 31-year-old Miguel O’hara has been found, a resident doctor at the local medical center, any information about the whereabouts of this man’s disappearance should be reported to the authorities. Local police are currently investigating possible causes of death, and are contacting family and loved ones right now. This is Miles Morales with the six O-clock news, stay safe out there.”
Your hands shook violently as a photo of the scene splayed across the screen, it was a bloody mess, an utter monstrosity of a crime scene. The body was blurred completely, probably too gruesome to show on public access news, but you knew it was him, he had those old white shoes from the hospital on, the ones that he wore even though they were battered and covered in holes. And his wedding ring, the one with the tiny stone embedded at the edge of it. That was your dad, that was your fudding dad and he was dead. Mutilated and shown on the news.
You involuntarily let out a whimper at the sight, the hand you had on your face squeezed and shook, trying to keep your composure, keep yourself from sobbing and blowing your cover. You failed miserably, as tears clouded your vision and fell on the countertop. Your irregular breathing and whimpers brought the attention of the man in your kitchen wearing your father's skin, your dead father's skin.
“Ai dios mio- Mija what's wrong? Are you hurt?” immediately the man was on top of you, with his hands running up and down your arms, checking for any possible injuries. He was using that fake worried tone he always did, the one you would usually fall for. The rage that consumed you blurred your vision, that along with the cloudy tears. You smacked his hands off of you, pushing yourself back further onto the countertop. You stared with wide eyes.
“Who the fudd are you? “ You asked, staring at him with those teary eyes of yours, there was a pure hatred laced throughout your expression, his eyes flicked from you with shock as he muttered a small “language”, they then panned to the tv behind. His face slipped from confusion to dread, his eyes went wide and his brows unfurrowed and dropped. His shoulders went completely slack, and he just stood there, waiting for you to make your next move.
“Mija- just listen to me before you do anything stupid- I know it's scary but you need to listen to me for a second” he rushed out, his sweet voice now dripping with fear, why was he scared of all things? He was the one with the advantage. You squirmed back, hopping off the other side of the counter, you continued to back away, eyes staying just as wide.
“You didn't answer my fudding question. Who- Who are you.” He made no move to get closer, only staring at you, so you continued “ Did you- did you kill my dad? My real dad?” The way he tilted his head with those soft eyes of his answered your question enough. Your hands kept shaking, your head kept pulsing with fear, and finally… you let out a piercing scream. One the neighbors were sure to hear.
But in the blink of an eye, he was on top of you.
“Please- please mija. I am your father- your papa. Please, You don't have to be scared of me, I love you- I'll never hurt you.” His hand pressed against your mouth, leaving a white film that held your it completely shut. Your screams were muffled now, but still audible. He had you on the floor, on top of you, his hands pinning you down with his entire strength. You thrashed and looked around for anybody to help, but the more you moved the tighter his hands got. You were shaking, whimpering like a kicked cat.
“I promise you- Prometo mi ninita- I just wanted to protect you, I will never EVER lay harm to you. “ He was deranged, quickly rushing out the words in a panic. You had never seen him so fearful, so desperate, both your father and him. You stopped thrashing, Instead choosing to stare up at him. He was so… scary, now that he wasn't being sweet, now that he was forcing you onto the floor, holding you down. The look in his eyes was terrifying.
All of a sudden it was like you realized the position you were in, he could kill you right now, this imposter could crush your head in his hands and leave like nothing happened, he was going to hurt you. Kill you. Like he did your father. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god. You were frozen, your hands began to quiver harshly, and tears streamed down your cheeks freely, panic flushed through your veins, overtaking that rage that you previously, pure fear rushed over you entirely. And you couldnt control your body anymore.
You couldnt breathe, or think. Or feel your body, you were overtaken with a fuzzy terrified feeling, your entire body quivered as you stared at him. The film over your mouth certainly wasnt helping, you tried to inhale, but you couldnt, as your vision blurred further. You couldnt feel anything. You hadnt realized you were digging your nails into your skin until there was blood dripping out of your wrists.
“Baby- you need to calm down. Your hurting yourself, you don't have to be scared, I’m not going ot hurt you. Just breathe- Tienes que respirar mija- por favor” The usually completely stoic miguel ohara, the leader of the spiderverse protection program was panicking, more so than he ever had in the past. You were having a panic attack, a bad one, that much was obvious, he had never delt with this before. You kept shaking, his words doing nothing. So he brought his arms around you, hoisting you up to his chest once more. Now it wasnt comforting, now it made you more fearful.
“Shh- I’m here. It's okay- I’m going to calm you down, don't be scared - Youll be okay.” He hushed, before bringing his head to your neck, it left you completely speechless and shocked, before he brought his lips to the nape, and bit down firmly. The tips of his canines dipped in, and the tiniest bit of his venom flushed into your veins.
You were only able to let a small scream out, before the venom overtook your senses. And your quivering figure went slack in his arms. He held you tight, lifting you off the ground entirely and clutching you. He wouldnt let you hurt yourself, he wouldnt let anybody hurt you, he couldnt. He ruined his chances before, He couldnt do it again. Even if you were scared, he would help.
“Lyla?” he spoke to the watch resting around his rist, setting you on his hip in the process. A small “yes sir?” rang out from the device, before he continued “Lets go home, I expect the office is ready for her.” His voice was harsh now, commanding like it should be.
“Yes sir. A-are you sure this is a good idea? She clearly wont be able to handle something like-”
“I’ll take care of it. Just do your job.
Were coming home. finally.”
———————————————————————
This is not very good. But I kinda like it. also MIGUEL OHARA TAKE ME NOW… anyways.
ALSO I COME FROM A HISPANIC FAMILY BUT I USE SPANISH LIKE NEVER SO IT IS NOT GOOD DONT BE MEAN.
Thanks for requesting anon! And thanks for reading! Please don’t be scared to write comments I absolutely love seeing them!
Have a great day! Bye!
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lovelybrooke · 9 months
Text
Yandere Spiderman Across the Spiderverse x reader Concept
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I really, really loved this movie and I'm super excited to write for it. I'm kinda sad this was only part 1, but it was great either way. On another note, I've seen the requests for this movie, and I will be writing those, so be patient with me. Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoy, and please request if you want to see more. (This is also not going to be 100% canon, sorry).
Life is super boring, at least that's how you viewed it. Everything was pretty monotonous, you wake up, go to school, go to work, go home, do homework, eat, sleep, and repeat. It's not even like it was bad, it's just, tiring.
This was until you meant Peter Parker. At the time, you thought there was nobody else like him, how stupid were you, right? You met when you two were paired up for a project at school, and eventually, after a little encouragement and time, you two became best friends.
Of course, at the time, you knew about Spiderman, New York's friendly neighborhood hero, but you never thought it was Peter. When he told you, you honestly thought he was joking, laughing at him as he tried to be open with you. After a long, long talk, you eventually came to terms with your friend's responsibility.
Everything was pretty good for a while, and you eventually even started helping Peter out on his little hero escapades. You weren't as courageous as him, so you ended up becoming his "guy in the chair", you didn't come up with the name. Your knowledge in technology allowed you to stay back and help him on missions from the safety of your home. You'd notify him whenever there was a villain in the area, hack into surveillance cameras to make sure he wasn't being seen by the police, and even made some upgrades to him suit to make him even stronger.
Everything was great, until the death of Peter's Uncle Ben. He meant everything to Peter, so when he died, Peter just, stopped talking to you for a while, it's like he just completely shut down. You tried to get a hold of him, but it was basically impossible. His aunt May never knew where he was, and you couldn't track his suit, so for a while, he was just a ghost.
When he did finally show up again, he was different. He used to be extroverted, happy and bubbly. But when he returned after months of silence, he was cold and distant. You could tell something was off with him, and the fact that you couldn't track his suit put you off. You knew he was okay with the tracker so you could contact him in case of emergencies, so then why was it suddenly not working?
For the short time Peter was back, he barely talked to you, and when he did, he was muttering something about someone trying to get him, which you assumed was because he was so out of it after coming back. When you tried to ask about it, he rambled something about the multiverse, before quickly shutting up. You never got the chance to ask him about it, because the next day he was gone, again. And you haven't seen him since.
And that's how you're back to your supper boring life. It was sad that your best and only friend was gone, Aunt May was devastated. Most of your time was spent trying to find him, using all the knowledge you had to find any trace of him. You assumed that his disappearance had something to do with the metaverse nonsense he was muttering about, but everything you found led to a dead end.
You were about to give up when a strange portal appeared into your room. It started out small, before quickly overtaking most your room, sucking you and some of your stuff in with it. It was a terrifying few seconds before you stopped moving, your butt hitting the floor. When you opened your eyes, you quickly figured out you were in some strange new place. Even though the room you were in was dark, you could tell it was super high tech, computers and wires everywhere.
It took you a while to stand up, disoriented as you were. As you stood up, a few lights turned up. Not enough lights to make you feel less nervous, but enough to see who was in the room with you. The man was tall, towering over you on his hovering platform, his back towards you. You didn't want to say anything, afraid of the man in front of you.
"You're digging to deep, (Y/N)." He said, his head tilting toward you, only a part of his face visible.
"Who are you?" You murmur, "why am I here?" you question.
"Don't worry, I'm doing this for your own good." What does that mean? His platform eventually reaches the ground, allowing him to walk close to you. Despite his intimidating demeanor, you felt a sense of comfort around him, which almost caused you to let your guard down. Slowly, the man brought his hand close to your head, brushing a small strand of hair out of your face. "I'm Miguel O'Hara, Earth-928's Spiderman."
You started to panic at that, this must be the Multiverse Peter was talking about. You took a step back from Miguel, the room around you becoming tense once again. You shake your head, giving Miguel a confused look, "So, the Multiverse is real? There's more than one Spiderman?" Miguel takes a slow step forward, eying you carefully.
"Yes." That doesn't really answer your question, but he continues, "and it's my job to make sure the multiverse stays stable." You look at the ground, suppressing tears, is that why Peter is gone? You stay quiet, prompting Miguel to continue, "that's why I need your help." Shocked, you looked at him, Miguel getting closer and closer to you. "With your skills, you can help a lot of people." You didn't know how to respond, simply looking at him with tear feared eyes. When Miguel wrapped you up in a tight hug, your fears for Peter were confirmed, he was gone.
---
Ever since, you've been working for Spider society. You mostly stayed with Miguel, seeing him a sort of father figure, even though you would never tell him that. Miguel gave you a room close to his, a room you barely even left, why would you when all your computers and tech is in there.
Miguel was protective of you the moment he met you, met being a strong word since you didn't know about him. You were just so kind and happy; he was almost jealous of your earths Spiderman. He never planned on killing him, especially since he knew what it would do to your dimension, but you were safer with him anyway.
He hated when you started becoming friends with the other Spider people, mainly the ones closer to you in age. He knew you were shy, but that also meant people would take advantage of you. It's why he didn't mind you staying in your room, he could keep watch of you there better anyway.
Gwen was fine, since for the most part she wasn't a troublemaker. She was the one to make sure you were eating, which Miguel was appreciative of. She would also bring in movies from her dimension for you to watch. Pavitr wasn't that bad, though he did like to push you out of your comfort zone a lot, but always knew when you were uncomfortable. Hobie was a different story, he was like a big brother to you, and would do your makeup and teach you how to play different instruments. Though, he always managed to get you caught up in all his little scheming, which does not make Miguel happy. When Miles eventually starts showing up, he also becomes one of your close friends, often hanging out with you and Gwen.
Most of the Spiders were pretty aware of their obsession with you, some of them more conscious of their behavior than others, but they see it as their job to protect you. You're one of the few non spiders welcomed into Spider society, of course your important to them. They've all lost so much; they couldn't lose you too. None of them are afraid of using their trauma against you to make you forget about your dimension and your Peter.
For most of them, you're the only peace they have. When they come back from a long mission, they just want to be with you, because you're the only constant in their lives. You're probably the only thing keeping Miguel from losing his mind, he just wants to keep you safe. They all just want to keep you safe.
It's why Miguel doesn't let you leave HQ; it's why he encourages you to call him dad. It's why Gwen will subtly remind you about the death of her best friend and how she couldn't handle losing you as well. It's why Hobie and Pavitr get upset when you mention anything from your dimension. Its why Miles can't stand being away from you for more than a week. You understand, don't you?
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A/n: I don't know how to feel about this but I'm happy it's out. I know I didn't get into Jessica or Peter B Parker, but I hope you guys like this. I have a lot of ideas for this, and I will not be shutting up about Spiderman anytime soon. Please, please, please request. Thank you!!!
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cxlamarisalxmi · 10 months
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Being Miguel’s legitimate daughter that he left behind and hosting Venom [FEM]
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[Platonic Drabble]
c/w: cringe writing, angst
[Unedited]
“How dare he?”
You ignored the symbiote raging in your head as you watched your father Miguel finish the battle with the Green Goblin variant. Binding him with glowing red organic webs and aligning him up and over his shoulder.
“How dare he return here?!”
“Venom,” you trailed exasperated. Obviously you weren’t happy at all to Miguel either but he hadn’t even seen you yet so what does it matter? Originally you and Venom had fully intended to take down Goblin and inform Peter B. Parker there was a variant in your dimension. (Don’t ask how you know him).
But then Miguel showed up instead, and honestly you should’ve expected that he would because he was the one who led the spider society. And he was among the first to know of any anomalies or unusual readings in any dimension.
And only Jessica and Lyla were a witness to the internal conflict inside him at the prospect of going to his daughter’s dimension. The daughter he abandoned in favor of a different one, a different daughter, a different universe… a different life.
He was absolutely certain that you hated him and you did, you held such bitterly angry and maliciously hateful feelings for him for such a long time. When you were young all you felt was confusion for his disappearance, but as you grew older and as time passed those feelings turned from rage at his betrayal… to utter heartbreak and despair at his departure.
For the longest time you’d believed that you’d done something wrong, because what had tog done that was so bad? What had you done that was so wrong? You didn’t mean to.. whatever it was you didn’t mean to.
Eventually you had come to learn that this was not a fault of yours, but of Miguel’s. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong, and you didn’t deserve this. Nobody did.
So you grew in the suffocatingly isolating darkness that was hate and grief. And as time passed you built walls thick and tall surrounding yourself, barbed defenses to protect your broken and vulnerable pieces. Behind those steeled doors you also tucked away the last part of your inner child, to keep her safe and protected.. from ever feeling this abandonment again.
When you were fourteen you’d found Venom, and at the time you had been living on the streets for close to two years. At fourteen is when you had very nearly quit on life, being alive was pain.. constant hurt that was very close to swallowing you whole.
Venom had stopped you, not because they had talked you out of it but more so because you were intrigued by the way they had glided across the ground. Even more so interested by the way the deep onyx goop slid up your hand before sinking into your body.
And you’ve been together ever since, the constant babble of the alien grated your nerves slightly but other than that you’d grown to love having them attached to you. And you wouldn’t change it for anything—
“[Y/Name]?”
You froze, previously having turned away from the scene of Miguel opening a glowing golden portal on the street below your perch to make a swift exit. But his voice had stopped you, and you’re not sure why you had even bothered to halt in your tracks.
“Wonderful,” you spat with toxin, “you remember my name.”
Miguel shouldn’t have been taken aback by your response, and he shouldn’t have been thrown off by your bite. He didn’t deserve to feel confused as to why you had responded to him so aggressively— because he knew why you had.
“Of course I do, I gave it to you.”
“Right,” you replied boredly before you were moving forward intent to leave the conversation there.
“[Y/Name]!” He called, and again you shouldn’t have given him even a second of your time but your broken and guarded heart longing for answers seemed to work your feet for you.
“[Y/Name], keep moving. Or I will. He does not deserve your time. He does not deserve you.”
“Did you ever wonder if I had even survived after you left? Did it ever cross your mind even once if I was still alive?”
“I checked on you regularly.”
“I see, the technology to travel through the multiverse also grants you the ability to peer into the lives of people you have ruined.”
You still hadn’t turned around, refusing to give him any sort of indication that you had actually cared about whatever it was he had to say.
“Look, I-I know that I’ve screwed up. I know that I hurt you—”
“Hurt me?” You chuckled humorlessly, a hitch of pain in your throat and fire on your tongue. “Hurt. Me? You may have before.. but you’ll never hurt me again.”
Venom had come through on the last word, enunciating the end of the sentence with a snarl. Ferocious and purely built from the pure emotional pain they could feel coming from their host.
Miguel subtly flinched at the deep growl in your tone, not enough for you to see but enough of a twitch that your heightened senses had picked up on it.
And you chose that moment to make your escape, stepping forward and utilizing Venom to vanish within the pitch black abyss of the shadows. The added darkness provided by the night sky and waning pale moonlight casting deeper shadows aiding Venom in helping you disappear entirely.
“[Y/Name] wait!—” Miguel reached out expecting to touch flesh but was met with nothing.
He stepped back, looked left then right then both directions once more before he exhaled tiredly and leapt back down to the road below. He lifted the Goblin and threw him in before jumping in himself, the portal closing behind him leaving the desolate street in utter darkness once again.
You had watched, this time from the gargoyle statue attached to the side of the roof’s lip on the building above. Venom formed off your shoulder, their head with white eyes and a mouthful of razor sharp teeth complimented well by the black ink of their exterior. And their head stretched off your shoulder by several tendons and tendrils still attached to your body.
You met his blank, milky white stare as he spoke.
“He will return. Whether he wishes to talk or— something more.. what will you do?”
“I made my feelings clear, if he returns. If I see him in my universe again. We. Kill. him.”
You watched as Venom’s grin grew exponentially at your sinister promise. The ominous threat on Miguel’s life exciting him after all the years of trauma and pain he had inflicted upon their host Venom wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth in and never let go.
And if granted the opportunity he would seize it with little to zero hesitation.
Every Spider-Man needs a nemesis, no emotionally richer story than having that nemesis be your own daughter.
“You are sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’ve grown cold. Sinister.”
“I am what he made me.”
a/n: I’m a little stoned and had this abrupt idea— 🫢 this is weak and maybe a lil’ cringe.. I know that, I’ll make it legit when I’m not baked 😐👍🏽
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i-cant-sing · 9 months
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Ok. Ok. HEAR ME OUT. Miguel hanging out with reader (shes chained to the chair) and feeding her (shoving food down her throat) bc she mentioned she hadn't eaten anything while Miguel was out handling business (beating up a child)
Ommg yess but like imagine reader being a spider person and unbeknownst to her, Miguel has grown really fond of her, seeing her as his own daughter and so he... dotes on you. Look, his family loss is still fresh, so he has this abundance of platonic love that he just needs to pour and you are luckily (or not) that person.
And papa Miguel is like trying so hard not to show that he cares about your well being, but HE DOES and he's always worried about you and he just wants to pull u out of the field and tell u its too dangerous for u to be spiderman, but he doesn't wanna say it because then he'll have to explain his concern for u and I've already told u guys that he's an emotionally crippled father who cant say "I love you" but their actions always scream out the words.
So, he thinks its best to just take care of you as best as he can without arousing suspicion from you or pulling u out of the field (cause he knows u love being a hero). He makes you food(mostly mexican because everything else doesn't have enough spice and it doesnt matter if u cant handle spice, you will LEARN to), okay? I mean good, homecooked meals, 3 times a day and he expects you to eat breakfast and dinner(ofcourse u have a curfew) with him. But lunches? well, since you're always on missions during lunch time, he packs u up some food for u to take and he always checks your bento box (ALSO SPIDERMAN THEMED OBV) but perhaps this one day, you forgot to or didnt want to take your lunch along (a very tasty burrito) and when Miguel sees your lunch in his kitchen, he is LOSING it all. My man here is making himself go crazy(ier) by overthinking the worst possible scenarios (because this is unusual behavior in his textbook) and he sends a sort of AMBER alert on your ass because you're not answering his calls/texts(cause ur busy fighting bad guys) and Miguel just sends the ENTIRE spider society to find where you are and bring you home ASAP. Obv the spider society follows his orders to bring you because he's boss man and he probably has some important reason to drag ur ass home and not because papa's heart cant handle that his baby missed lunch???
Omg can you imagine reader finally finishing tying up the bad guys and now stops by a pizza place to grab a slice and girl looks outside to see 100 spidermans swinging around, all coming her way. These guys all shoot enough webs until you were practically cocooned in them and perfectly immobilised, and then they all open up the portal to deliver u to Miguel.
And Miguel just shoos them all away before he begins to free u from the webs and asks where u were, what happened, did the bad guys hurt u, were u kidnapped.
"Yeah-" you pulled the webs out of your hair. "-by your men!" And Miguel explains that he sent them after you because he thought something bad happened to u.
"Why would you think that?"you inquired.
Because you forgot your lunch at home. No, he cant say that.
"I- my spider senses were telling me to. I guess they were wrong." Now before you could ask more questions, he changes the topic. "Anyways, you must be hungry. Lets eat lunch-"
"No, I actually ate a slice of pizza before I was brought here-" you start but Miguel glares at you as he pulls out a dish of enchiladas from the oven, placing it in front of you.
"You will eat. You're hungry."
"I'm actually not. Like I was saying-" but he glares at you again, piling up your plate with enchilidas.
"I wasn't asking, mija." He hands you the utensils, red eyes piercing you. "You are hungry, and you will eat. Now."
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parasiticstars · 9 months
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Miles teaching Hobie how to do more detailed graffiti and Hobie swinging around both his and Miles’s dimension finding more spots to do it in and them both going around leaving tags places and at the end of the day they’re both laughing together and actually having a chance to not be two heroes with the weight of the world on their shoulders but just teenagers who get to have fun and deserve this lighthearted moment and I might not be entirely sober
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heartpascal · 9 months
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or is it loneliness?
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▹— (eventual) spiderverse found family x platonic!reader
▹— summary: you need closure, and information. two visits kind of give you that.
▹— a/n: guys idk what im DOING. i have things planned for atsv but not how we’re gonna get there … rn im just yolo-ing. im not a big fan of this one but im gonna start writing the next one asap, which will hide fully be more found family-ish lmao arachnid is gonna start warming up to them all some day i swear
▹— warnings: angst, injuries, not good thoughts, dead parents, sensory issues, explosions, violence, fighting, blood?, damaged hearing for a good minute, peter b parker eating burgers deserves its own warning, food, mention of throwing up / nausea, insecurities about being good enough, refusing help, idk what else, if ive missed anything let me know!!!
▹— taglist: @rhymingtree (everything taglist) @justmare @uniquemonstrosity @lacunaanonymoused @erensbbg @dulceteris @noxxing @escherichiacolli @ray-rook @i-3at-kidz @miwagila @stoneforests (is it freedom’verse) — also i only tagged those who explicitly asked to be tagged!
MASTERLIST , part one
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
You spend a long time sat on the edge of the open window, staring out at the traffic below after getting back from Spider Society HQ. There’s a tangible relief that comes with returning to your dimension, like a weight being removed, a tension that is finally released from where it had been pulled taut. Your shoulders feel just as heavy as they did when you left, but you try not to think about it. You try to be happy that you’re back.
While you wouldn’t say it aloud, and you hate to even have the thought, you don’t think anybody had noticed you were gone. But then again, who would? You have no reason to be so upset about such a thing.
Time slips by as you diligently sew up the tears in your suit, frowning as you hold it up once you’re finished. It looks nothing like it used to, but then again, neither do you. Things have changed, it only makes sense that your suit would, too. You wonder if travelling through alternate dimensions can alter your perception of things. You’d swear that your suit had been a different shade before you left, lighter, maybe, but you have nothing to compare it to.
At least now, this time, when you put on your suit there is evidence of damage that Gwen Stacy had caused. The stitching along your the material where she had tore into you is a tangible thing, physical, and you run your fingers across it as if it might disappear. It’s almost a relief, to be able to feel where she had caused you pain, as opposed to the invisible ache she had left within you after fighting her the first time around.
Alongside the scar raised on your body, the fight with Gwen had left you with a sort of paranoia. An uncertainty in the back of your mind that has you glancing over your shoulder, has you messing up simple manoeuvres as you panic, thinking you hear her voice.
It must have been your third day back from the HQ that you come to the conclusion that you have to visit Gwen Stacy in her prison.
The decision doesn’t come easily. It comes slowly, torturously so, a realisation that deafens you as you glare through squinted lenses at the city around you. You won’t be able to go on like this, getting yourself hurt in stupid ways all because you’re not certain that she’s back in her prison. You’re meant to be a hero, which means that messing up, despite whatever paranoia that lingers in the back of your head, is unacceptable. It has consequences.
Seeing her in the flesh will likely be the hardest thing you’ll ever do. Except, maybe, not killing her when you caught her in that other dimension. You keep your mind on the fact that she won’t be able to touch you, that she’ll be walled away, to reassure yourself that there is no risk of either of you hurting the other — at least, physically.
But seeing her isn’t the only difficult part.
No, the hardest part is stepping back into an identity that you had lost your grasp on, long ago. You wear your old clothes, clothes that you hadn’t put on in months, and try to remember how it felt to be you, rather than Arachnid.
“Hi, Mrs. Stacy.” You say, when the door to an all too familiar apartment opens just a slither, and you catch sight of her wrinkled eyes. There’s a noticeable change to them when she realises who you are, and she’s slamming the door shut, undoing the chain, and reopening it before you can say another word.
She whispers your name like she can’t believe it’s you — and you can’t blame her.
You had disappeared, months ago, after the death of your father. Going missing was far easier than being placed in a foster system that would only hold you back. It had been so much easier, not having to face anyone, not having to speak at his funeral.
“Hi.” You repeat, when her stare lingers in the silence for far too long. The sound of your voice once again breaks her out of her trance, and she’s rushing forward to pull you into her arms as if you were her child. You suppose, in some ways, it was quite a lot like that. At the very least, your presence will remind her of the daughter she had lost.
“Where have you been? Oh, honey, I was so worried.” Mrs. Stacy says, her voice trembling by your ear as she squeezes you tight, unfazed by your lack of reciprocation. “Come inside, please.”
You follow her through the doorway, closing the door behind you as you had done so many times before. Not looking around at the apartment is near impossible, but you’re not sure how much familiarity you can take. Even just seeing Mrs. Stacey’s aged face makes your chest ache, your legs feeling shaky.
“Sit down, honey, let me get you a warm drink.” She says, a tremor to her voice as she bustles towards the kitchen which is adjoined to the living room. The news plays on the television, and you’re glad to hear a weather report, rather than some city-wide attack. Mrs. Stacy is quiet as she goes through the process of making your favourite drink, but with your enhanced hearing you listen to the telltale clink of a spoon against ceramic. You listen closely to her hitched breathing as her footsteps pad back into the room. “Here.” She hands you the warm mug, and you don’t comment on the way her hand shakes.
“Thank you.” You say, though it feels stilted, wrong, too formal. It’s hard to be normal in this setting, to be whoever you used to be, especially as she stares at you like she’s seen a ghost.
Mrs. Stacy stares at you for a long while before she speaks again, as if she’s still not sure that you’re real. “Where have you been? After—After your dad… we didn’t know what happened to you. Are you safe? Do you need help?” She asks, frantic once she’s gotten started on her questions.
“Mrs. Stacy, I’m fine, really.” You lie, smiling tightly over the rim of the mug as you hold it towards your face. Before, you would’ve burnt your tongue drinking it too fast, but you’re hesitant to drink it at all. The last thing you want is to become too familiar to your old life. “I’ve been staying with some friends, downtown. It’s been good.”
She raises a brow at you, and stares for a moment longer. “Honey… you don’t look well.” She tells you, and raises the back of her hand to press it against your forehead. Her frown only deepens when you flinch away from the touch. You try not to curse yourself too much, but can’t help reprimanding the way you hadn’t anticipated such an action.
The skin on your forehead is clammy, but that’s just the anxiety, the nerves at being back here. Arachnid can’t get sick.
“Listen, I… I was hoping I could ask a favour from you.” You say, hesitantly, gripping the warm mug tight between your hands, but loosen your fingertips against the ceramic when you hear a minute crack.
Mrs. Stacy furrows her brows, looking more concerned by the second, but nods. “Of course, anything.” She tells you, and places one of her hands against yours on the mug.
“I was hoping I could visit Gwen.” You voice, after one last moment of hesitation. The way her face immediately crumples at the request doesn’t give you much hope, especially as her hand withdraws from your own. “I—I know you don’t get to see her very often, and maybe it’s selfish, but… I don’t know. I wanted some kind of closure, I guess.” You ramble on in response to her silence, glaring down at the liquid still swirling in your mug.
“Honey,” Mrs. Stacy interrupts, her voice soft in contrast to the way yours was growing in volume. You quiet immediately, your gaze drawn up to where her tearful eyes stare at you, her expression almost mourning. “I would never deny you that, but you should know… I haven’t visited Gwenny since she was put in there.” She admits, her stare dropping to her lap, almost ashamed.
“Oh,” You voice, softly, in response. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed— I—I mean, I can’t even imagine—”
“No, don’t be silly, how would you have known?” She replies, raising her eyebrows at you strictly. “Now, I can get you that visit. I’ll call my attorney first thing tomorrow, but… really, honey, do you need me to call someone for you? Who are these friends?”
Her voice is familiar, and it’s kind, which makes it all the more painful. It’s strange, seeing the resemblance between her and the Green Goblin, and it makes a part of you ache. Your life wasn’t the only one torn apart by Gwen. In fact, her mother probably faced the worst of it. With her husband being long gone, her oldest son away at college, youngest withdrawn after her daughter became a homicidal maniac, who did she really have left? Who was looking after Helen Stacy?
You smile at her, as best as you can without tearing up, and reach out to grasp her hand, which she readily accepts. “I’m okay, Mrs. Stacy, I… It’s just a few friends of my dad, from his home town. Their kids, too. It’s better than being put in the system.” You tell her, and can only hope that she believes you. You have no way to back up these lies, knowing those friends of your father don’t exist.
“You could’ve stayed here, you know?” She says, teary and squeezing your hand so tightly you can hear your bones creaking. You smile sadly at her.
“You’re a much stronger person than me, Mrs. Stacy. I couldn’t even face my dad’s funeral, let alone be around the memories of somebody I lost. This place, it—it reminds me of her.” You explain, voice shaking as you hold back your own tears, swallowing them down and trying to breathe through the ache in your throat.
The way her heart breaks is almost loud enough for you to hear it, but she nods her head understandingly, regardless. “Of course,” She says, nodding still, “But know you always have a place here, okay?”
“Okay.” You respond, heart clenching so tightly you’re not sure it can pump your blood any longer.
“Now, what’s your number? Your old phone was disconnected.” She says, shaking her tears away to pull out a pad and pen from the coffee table. She sets the notepad against her knee, looking expectantly toward you.
“Oh, right,” You stutter, teeth chattering as you comb your mind for the number of your burner phone. “There was a mixup, because it was in my dad’s name.” You explain needlessly, still searching your mind for the answer. Finally, you remember it. You listen to her ballpoint pen scrape along the paper as she writes the numbers as you say them, and then she clicks the pen off after writing your name beside it, underlining it twice.
“How about I give you a call with the details of your visit, okay, honey?” She asks, nodding with a pleased hum at your affirmative. “Good. Stay for dinner, okay? I’ve missed you.”
Who are you to deny her that?
Though, even as you try to pretend that you help to set up the table for her benefit, and as you hug Gwen’s little brother tightly when he comes home for his, you know, deep down, that it’s for you. That this is a moment of selfishness that you’ll let yourself have, because god, you deserve it, don’t you?
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
It’s thirteen days post Spider Society discovery, and you’re starting to regret the way you discarded that watch so carelessly. Not because you want to be a part of some cult of superheroes, but because you wish you had asked some more questions.
Surely Miguel O’Hara must’ve known a way to stop these villains from appearing in other universes? And if he did, had he already implemented whatever it was to stop Gwen escaping again? How exactly did she escape the first time? Was it a coincidence? Is there somebody out there, working behind the scenes, helping her get out?
You, unfortunately, have no way to answer any of the burning questions nagging at the back of your head. While a part of you hopes that you never see any of the Spider Society weirdos again, you also desperately want answers. Especially if it meant you could call off your visit to Gwen Stacy.
But the day arrives as any other does, and you spend every moment before the drive over to the prison desperately hoping that one of the Spider-people will show their face. None of them do, and you’re left to get into Mrs. Stacy’s car and simply brace for the journey ahead.
You’re pretty sure that swinging would be quicker, or easier, but you had no way to explain that way of transport to an interrogating Mrs. Stacy, and so you had to relent to her insistence on driving you. Now, you sit here, shifting in the seat of the car, uncomfortable without your suit underneath the clothes you used to wear on a daily basis. Even the knowledge that it’s stuffed into the bottom of your tattered backpack in the boot of Mrs. Stacy’s car doesn’t bring you any comfort.
Instead, the rough material of an old jacket has your skin crawling like you were being bitten by a thousand mosquitos, and the trousers on your legs itch like you’re allergic to them.
You suppose, really, that the spider bite that gave you so many powers had to have more drawbacks than just destroying your life. It only makes sense that your heightened senses would extend to the receptors on your skin. It makes every movement in these clothes torturous, and you wonder if it had always been this way, or if you were just so unused to wearing your old style of clothes. Either way, you hope that you won’t have to wear them for much longer.
If it all goes to plan, you should be in and out of the prison, just ensuring that Gwen Stacy is actually in the cell as she’s supposed to be. Then you just have to endure the fifty minute drive back to the city with Mrs. Stacy, and you’re free. You won’t have to wear these clothes again, won’t have to use your name, no — you can just sink back into the half life that is being Arachnid. It’s better that way.
“Okay, honey, here we are.” Mrs. Stacy says at last, having shifted her car into park. She pointedly avoids looking at the looming high-security prison ahead, instead focusing on you as you wipe your sweaty palms against your trousers. “Now you take as much time as you need in there, alright? I’ll be just out here, if you need me.”
You smile tightly at her, nodding with what you hope is more of a grateful expression rather than a grimace. “Thank you, Mrs. Stacy, really. I appreciate it, more than you know.”
That much was true — after all, it wasn’t like you could tell her that she was allowing the vivid paranoia you had been experiencing to be put to rest after her daughter escaped to another universe. Mrs. Stacy, from what you could gather, didn’t even know that Gwen had been missing for any amount of time. She had no idea what Gwen had done, how many more people she had hurt, but you assured yourself that it was better that way. Mrs. Stacy already had to deal with plenty, and that knowledge surely wouldn’t help.
She was already dealing with her own grief and feelings on the situation, as well as trying to support her two sons in the matter. Given what Gwen’s little brother had asked of you when he found out about you visiting her, you knew that he hadn’t been to visit Gwen, either. It seemed that he wasn’t coping with it all very well.
“Of course, you’re family. You should know that by now.” She says, smiling with teary eyes, reaching across the console to grasp your hand tightly in her own.
Her words take a stab at your chest, especially considering what had happened to everybody else who had seen you as family. Dead parents, villainous best friend — it really didn’t bode well for your loved ones. You just reassured yourself with the fact that you’d be able to disappear as soon as the two of you returned to the city. You couldn’t put her in any danger, that way, or her remaining kids.
“I’ll—I’ll see you after, okay?” You respond, squeezing her hand in return before quickly letting go and throwing open the car door, getting out and catching a slither of Mrs. Stacy’s surprised reply before you shut the car door.
There are guards waiting for you at the gates, checking you are who you say you are, scanning you for weapons before you even get in the building. They’re satisfied after their searches, content that you weren’t stupid enough to bring a weapon into a highly secure prison. You keep your focus on your breathing as they walk you in, handing you clothes to change into as well as a box to put all of your belongings in.
The scrub-like clothes they give you are even worse than your own, sending shivers up and down your spine at the feeling of each fibre scraping against your skin. You just try to breathe through it. Luckily, the rest of the security checks blur by, which means less time spent on agonising over this visit. You barely hear a word of the statement they read to you before you go in, and your hand cramps as you write your signature against a dotted line of a waiver. All of the other legal things were sorted out by Mrs. Stacy’s lawyer, which you are more than thankful for.
Instead of having to deal with that, you just have to wait.
You think that the waiting might be the worst part of it all. With the scrubs making your hairs raise and promoting uncomfortable shivers up and down your body, as well as the cold metal seat that they sat you on, you’re far too aware of everything around you. You can hear the hundreds of heartbeats in the buildings, the beeping of security doors, the footsteps heading your way. You can smell the coffee that the head guard in the adjoining room to the one you’re in is drinking, as well as the day-old sandwich in his desk. Worst of all is the way your own heartbeat is thrumming in your throat, padding harshly against your chest, so loud in your own ears that it slowly starts to drown out everything around you.
Gwen’s footsteps are heavy, accompanied by the clinking of the chains she’s shackled in. You can practically hear the maniacal laughter that had come from her whilst in that alternate dimension, even though she’s completely silent as she enters the room.
She smiles at you when you look up, and for a moment you’re fooled — it’s soft, gentle, kind. But then you see the glimmer in her eyes that was distinctly not Gwen, and you feel the scar along your side throbbing with phantom pain.
You smile tensely at the guards, who regard you with looks of gentle concern and caution, before they attach her chains to a link on the floor beside a chair three metres away from where you sit. They nod at you, which you return, and you watch as they go and take their positions beside the door before you move your eyes back to the elephant in the room — which is Gwen Stacy.
“So, you missed me?” She asks, baring her teeth in a grin that has too much teeth to be anything friendly. Gwen regards you closely as you stare at her, watch for any signs of flickering, any signs that this isn’t real. Her brows raise slowly, the longer you’re silent, but you’re in no hurry to talk. “No? Is that not it?”
“Sure, I miss you.” You respond after another stretch of silence, tilting your head to study her more closely. You don’t acknowledge the way that your voice shakes as you speak, the way it comes out in something closer to a croak before you swallow harshly against your dry throat. “Thought I’d come to check in.” You add, brows furrowing to make sure she gets your true meaning.
“Ah,” She voices, then laughs, shoulders shaking, chains clanking loudly against her metal chair. “I get it, now.”
Gwen doesn’t add anything else after that, even though you suspected that she may take this opportunity to loudly claim that you were Arachnid, outing your identity once and for all. Apparently, if she does want to out your identity, she doesn’t want to do it like this, as she stays silent until you speak.
You sit forward on your chair, ignoring the way the guards at the edges of the room shift uneasily at your movement. “Your mom arranged this for me, you know?” You say, eyebrow raised. She probably knows what you’re doing, or what you’re trying to do, but she doesn’t voice it. Instead, she just shifts to lean backwards in her own chair, sighing as if relaxing.
“Hmm, so she can visit.” Gwen says, nodding her head as if it’s all making sense now.
“She can, she just doesn’t want to. Neither does Georgie.” You respond, and find satisfaction in the way her eyes flash at the mention of her little brother, the nickname that the two of you both used to call him. She recovers quickly, but you can tell that she knows it wasn’t quick enough. The Green Goblin cracked, right in front of your very eyes. It’s proof that, if anything, her little brother has some meaning. “He wanted me to tell you something.”
Her head tilts across from you, though she doesn’t move from her laid back position.
You clear your throat, and look at the words you’d written on your skin. She tilts her head forwards the slightest amount, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, glancing at the guards who look just as uncomfortable as you feel. “He said that he misses his Gwenny, but he doesn’t want you coming home.” You stare at her as you repeat his message, the one he had told you nervously, as if he was truly afraid that Gwen would escape and come back. Her eyes twitch as she focuses on keeping her expression cool, but you know that the words have hit something in her, even if it’s part of the Green Goblin. “Looks like you even ruined your own family.”
You’re up on your feet as she lurches forwards, flung backward from where she tried to go against her chains to rush toward you. The guards are in front of you in mere moments, but you weren’t in any danger. Not as long as she stayed in here.
It’s almost satisfying, to see her chained up. It’s so different to seeing the Green Goblin on the outside, where she could be your Gwen Stacy. Whereas in here, bound by chains of heavy metal, clothed in uncomfortable looking prisoner scrubs, she was nothing but the Green Goblin. It was reassuring, almost, to be able to pick apart something physical between the two.
She bares her teeth at you, animalistic in a way that Gwen never was, and glares at you as you follow one of the guards out of the room, the others closing in on her, ready to take her back to whatever cell she came from.
The clothes you wear become less overbearing as you keep your focus on the guards taking Gwen away the whole way back through security, only switching back to your surroundings when they hand you the tray of your own belongings to change back into. You’re relieved for many reasons, and you try to focus on that feeling as you approach Mrs. Stacy’s car rather than the way your jacket itches.
Mrs. Stacy looks as if she wants to speak as you get in the car, as if she wants to ask about your visit, but she seemingly can’t bring herself to do it. You keep your mouth shut.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
Not a month later, your daily activities are back to normal, uninhibited by the daunting idea of Gwen being free. Still, though, you think about her more often, as much as you did in the time after she was put away the first time.
Mrs. Stacy had tried to call you more than once since, and at the two week mark you’d had to invest in a new burner phone. You just couldn’t risk anybody getting a hold of it and seeing her contact, or the ringer going off and exposing your position in a fight. No, it was better for her not to have your number. Besides, you had hers memorised if you needed to call her.
It was better if you tried to reduce any connections to Gwen Stacy. You’d be much better off, the less you thought about her.
Despite knowing that, you couldn’t help it. And despite seeing that crack in the Green Goblin exterior at her little brother’s words, you didn’t have much hope for her. You don’t think they’d let her out of prison even if you could find a cure, somehow. The fact of it was that Gwen Stacy’s life was over. She had no hope of a future in this world, the Goblin had destroyed that. All you could do was remember her and hope beyond anything that in one of those alternate dimensions, you and Gwen were happy together.
The thought of it played on your mind every day, a lingering pain that stung at your eyes. You thought about it so much that you had even imagined the world where Gwen had never become the Goblin, where you and your Gwen were happy. It was a suffocating image, one without any hope of being true, but you couldn’t help thinking about it.
Even as you fought villain after villain, petty criminal after petty criminal, you thought about it. Even now, as you were swinging around a bridge, dodging all the debris this villain was throwing your way, it played on your mind.
It was a distraction, and it was one you needed to get rid of.
That much became certain as the villain you were facing, Tombstone, managed to get a hit on you, sending you flying across the bridge. You landed on a car with a groan, the windshield cracking below you, and you rolled your eyes as the person in the car held a hand on their horn until you managed to climb off, a distinct Arachnid-shaped dent left in the bonnet.
Well, that would be aching tomorrow, that much was for sure.
He grinned where he was stood across the bridge from you, showing off his filed teeth, as if trying to intimidate you with the pointy edges of them.
“You’ve been a formidable foe, Arachnid,” Tombstone says, his voice barely a whisper above the wind, but you can hear him perfectly. You suspect he knows as much, and that only makes you nervous. “But I think it’s time for our battle to come to an end.”
“I actually agree.” You respond, stretching your aching back and feeling a bone shift when it definitely shouldn’t. You can’t help but wince, gritting your teeth and glaring over at Tombstone across the bridge.
You’re getting tired of these villains, of their constant spiel about how the world should be, about how everything should be how they wanted it to be. What was so wrong with the human population that everybody couldn’t just get along? Surely, if everybody got along, listened to each other, the world’s problems would be solved. But then again, this is New York, and it’s a city in which greed is bred.
A light press against your webshooter has you slinging high up on the bridge, staring down at Tombstone as he watches you intently. You’re planning your next move, considering all the variables, when a burst of orange manifests into the air behind him. He looks confused as you falter in your web slinging, dropping slightly before you catch yourself, and he turns around just in time to receive a curled fist to the face, courtesy of a familiar man in a red and blue suit.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You murmur, lowering yourself to the bridge to approach this Spiderman, glaring at where Tombstone stands, straining against a red barrier that had materialised from the device Spiderman had placed at his feet.
“I hate that guy!” The familiar voice of Peter B. Parker says, shaking his fist as he hops slightly from one foot to the other, his lenses squinted before he finally turns to acknowledge you. “That guy sucks.”
Your brows are furrowed, eyes squinted behind your lenses as you stare at Peter, confused. This Tombstone guy isn’t an anomaly, is he? While you hadn’t faced him before, you knew that there had been a battle between him and another vigilante down in Hell’s Kitchen. And he knew your name, hadn’t been calling you Spiderman like the last anomaly. So why was he here?
Peter sighed, as if he was disappointed to be met with your confusion. “You got a place, kid? Or a burger joint, maybe?”
With that same amount of confusion, you nodded, brows furrowed as cops came to collect Tombstone, who was still in a fit of rage. You can just barely hear him swearing to get you back, both of you, through the barrier. Peter gestured a hand forwards for you to lead the way, and with slight hesitation, you swung off with him following.
Now, the two of you are sat in a Shake Shack, despite you wanting to head back to the offices you were set up in. Peter had ordered two burgers, one for you and one for him, though you had decidedly rejected the one he pushed towards you. He had only shrugged, and accepted it onto his own plate.
“My wife’s pregnant, can’t even stand the smell of these.” Peter groans, stuffing what must’ve been at least a quarter of the burger in his mouth. You just nod at his statement, though you had to admit you were slightly surprised that this guy was going to be a dad. But then again, you’re pretty sure you can remember your dad scoffing down his favourite food in a similar way. “Now listen,” He continues, speaking with his mouthful and paying you no mind as you cringe at the sound. “Miguel wants to strike a sort of… deal with you.”
“Okay?” You respond, brows furrowed. You look around the place, uncomfortable with all the people staring at Arachnid in a booth beside an old man stuffing his face. The lenses of your mask squint with you as you look at Peter, waiting for him to add anything on to explain his statement. “Then why’d he send you?” You ask, at last, when Peter makes no move to speak of his own free will, too engrossed in his second burger.
Peter held up a finger, gulping down a sip of his strawberry milkshake. “Said something about this being good practice for me,” Peter eventually answers, flashing you a smile. “You know, being a new dad and all.”
He seems to realise quickly that that was the wrong thing to say as your eyes narrow further, visible only through the shift of your lenses. The last thing you need is some random guy trying to father you. Even just the idea of it irritates you, makes the very blood rushing in your veins feel hot with anger. You had a dad, and look what good that did you. He’s gone.
Not to mention the implication of you being a child! You’re far from being a kid. You’ve been looking after yourself for some time now just fine. Whatever deal Miguel wants to strike with you is because they need you. Not the other way around. You knew that you shouldn’t have let that Spider-doctor fix you up.
“I’m not some kid. I don’t need you lot, you need me. Don’t get it all twisted, Peter.” You respond as he continues to look like a deer in headlights, clearly kicking himself for revealing what Miguel had said. You keep your voice low, fighting to stay unheard with the quietened air in the diner. “Now hurry up and tell me about whatever bullshit deal you want to strike with me, so I can say no and we can go our separate ways.”
“Kid,” Peter sighs, before immediately wincing as he realised he just directly disregarded your statement about not being a kid. “Sorry, Arachnid,” He corrects, settling his hands on the table in front of him, finally taking a break from his almost-finished food. “Nobody’s saying you can’t do this.”
“Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re saying.” You mutter, averting your eyes from Peter and instead narrowing your lenses at the people still staring in your direction.
“All we’re saying is that you shouldn’t have to do this alone,” He continues, ignoring your interruption with nothing but a quirked brow. “It’s a tough job. Everybody needs someone to look out for them, you know? It’s in our nature to feel responsible for everything around us, as Spider-people. But you can’t carry the whole weight of the world on your shoulders, it’s too much!”
You stare blankly at him, remaining unimpressed with his whole speech.
Peter sighs once more, looking at you with hesitant hope that you’ll come around. Unfortunately, you’re not about to let these people think that you’re incapable. If anything, Peter’s little speech was just adding fuel to your fire. You liked proving people wrong — it’s what you thrived on. You needed to prove them wrong. Because if you didn’t, what did that make you? You couldn’t let people be right about their assumptions of you. If you couldn’t prove everybody wrong, then that meant some of the things people said about you were right. And with the amount of people who accused you of being responsible for more deaths than you saved, who portrayed you as a menace rather than a vigilante, who said you weren’t worthy of your powers, who said whatever divine intervention had given them to you was wrong, you couldn’t let them be right. You wouldn’t.
“I already told you people. I’m not interested.” You spit out at him, feeling your frustration brimming over the edge. Why would nobody just trust you? Was that so much to ask? You understand that you had made mistakes, that you had cost people their lives, but you were trying. Why couldn’t that just be enough?
Peter says nothing as you slide out of the booth, stomping your way out of the Shake Shack as if you were some kind of grumpy teenager. He could only hope that his unborn child was a less grumpy teen, but then again, he was pretty sure you had every right to be miserable. Correcting himself, he could only hope that his unborn child never experienced your reasons for being so miserable.
You make your way towards your office building, swinging through the streets whilst doing your best to keep your heightened hearing down. You really didn’t want to have to deal with anything else, tonight. All you wanted was to get back, to put on the only clothes other than your suit that didn’t make you want to crawl out of your skin. Even if it was just for an hour, you’d take it.
While you had gotten used to how quiet it was in the building a long time ago, you couldn’t help but think that tonight, it felt almost… eerie. There was something tingling, buzzing at the very base of your skull, but even as you strained your hearing, your sight, everything, you couldn’t detect anything out of place. Everything seemed normal, so you couldn’t understand why you were so on edge! It couldn’t just be Peter’s presence, surely, because he posed no threat to you. So what was going on?
Picking up your backpack filled with belongings, you stared around at the empty office, the breeze that flowed through the open window sending a shiver down your spine, even though you weren’t feeling cold. Something wasn’t right. You just couldn’t figure out what it was.
“Hello? Anybody there?” You call out, straining your hearing once more, trying to listen out for even the slightest sound. A movement, a breath, anything, even as you couldn’t help but think that this was the most cliché horror movie like moment that you had experienced to date. Still, you heard nothing, but that nagging feeling didn’t dissipate, and you quickly lost all desire to change out of your suit.
The unease you felt only grew stronger as you stood there, unsure what to make of the feeling. It was quickly growing towards being overwhelming, but you didn’t know what to do.
Luckily for you, you didn’t have to make a decision.
Unfortunately, the decision was made by one of the very people you were trying to prove yourself to.
Peter B. Parker — or at least, you were pretty sure it was him — swung through the very same window you had, only to grasp a hold on your arm and pull you out of the window as he jumped straight back out of it.
Now, you had been Arachnid for a long time now. You had gotten used to the swinging, to the way your stomach dipped and your throat tightened, but you had never experienced it where you weren’t the one in control. Finally, you understand why people you brought to safety had, on occasion, thrown up immediately after you set them down on their feet again. The feeling of falling, of having no choice but to trust somebody else to catch you, it was terrifying.
But what was infinitely more terrifying was the way that the very floor of the building you had just been stood on exploded.
The blaze was blinding, even with your lenses protecting your eyes, but the noise that came moments later was much, much worse. And sure, you had been around explosions before, but never one that big, never so close. And never so unprepared for one.
Your ears were ringing, and you vaguely realised that you had become dead weight in your shock, with Peter struggling to keep his grasp on your arm firm. After a moment, you had the sense to grab his forearm in return, trying to assist him in holding you up. He didn’t seem as effected by the explosion in comparison to you, and you wondered if he’d had the time to put earbuds in his ears as you had sometimes done before a fight. Either way, you were insanely envious as the pain in your ears increased, leaving you struggling to focus on holding on to Peter.
When he set you down, which couldn’t have been more than a minute after he had grabbed you, considering you could still see the office building smouldering, you had to hold a hand over your mouth even over your mask, trying to rid yourself of nausea. Smoke was leaking into the darkening sky, and you saw the flash of sirens below, but heard nothing other than the distinctive ringing that felt like it was melting your brain.
Peter’s hand was squeezing your shoulder, and after a moment in which you didn’t acknowledge him, he was gripping your other shoulder with his spare hand, shaking you the slightest bit. You looked up at him with a groan, squinting past the floating lights in your vision to see that his mouth was moving, no sound coming out. You shook your head, trying to get rid of that incessant ringing, but it didn’t work. You dropped your chin to your chest again, hands bracing against your ears as if they could ease your pain, and you didn’t make a move as Peter removed one hand from your shoulder.
Mere moments later, the same tingling you had felt before the building you were in exploded returned, stronger, more intensely. Your head snapped up, frantically looking around, paying Peter no mind as he spoke into the orange-glowing watch on his wrist. You breathed through your nose, trying not to cough at the smoke permeating the air, and you just managed to push Peter over the edge of the roof of the building, with you diving after him, as another explosive went off.
That explosion was smaller than the last one, and the only reason you had managed to avoid it was because you knew it was coming. You knew what the alarm bells in your head were trying to tell you now, and you spotted the projectile just seconds before it reached your feet.
Part of you was glad that your senses were dulled from the first explosion — your hearing, especially, as it meant you were less effected by the close-range on this one. You saw Peter’s eyes widen as he looked up above you at where the explosion had just occurred. You just about managed to web him before shooting a web towards the next building, feeling something in your shoulder pull sharply with his extra weight and the suddenness of the move.
You squinted down at him as he gripped the web attached to his chest with one hand, his lips moving more frantically as he spoke to a hologram projected by the watch on his other hand.
“Shit, what is going on?” You asked, though mostly to yourself, but the only way you could tell you had even voiced the words was by the way they rumbled out of your throat. That explosion had messed up your hearing, for the moment, anyway, and you quickly realised that with your slow healing and the ringing in your ears, this fight was going to be majorly difficult.
You only had a moment to think that, before something snapped the web that was holding you to the building, sending both you and Peter falling through the air. Embarrassingly, you’re pretty sure that you let out a yell of some sort.
All the air was knocked out of you the next second as something hurtled into you, sending you careening towards the windows of the closest building. Peter, for a moment, had a shocked expression on his face, before he seemingly realised what was going on, smiling and letting out a string of words that you didn’t hear. You groaned as your sore back collided with the window, smashing upon your impact, and you were sent sprawling over a desk, a monitor breaking underneath your sudden weight.
Yet again, there was a hand against your shoulder, and you paid it no mind as your head dropped back, thudding against the desk. You couldn’t help but groan, the duress that your back had been under today was certainly taking its toll, leaving your whole spine throbbing with pain. On top of that, you were struggling to catch your breath, and with the sudden adrenaline provided by the spider-sense fading, the intensity of the pain in your ears was increasing.
Finally, you managed to peel your eyes open to see a concerned Peter B. Parker looking at you, with Miguel O’Hara stood beside the shattered window, staring out menacingly, as if daring whoever it was to attack again. Peter said something else, squeezing your shoulder, and all you could do in response was hold up one thumb.
Miguel seemingly barked out an order over his shoulder, and a moment later, you were squinting against the bright orange light of a portal.
Peter was hauling you to your feet, leaning to hold one of your arms over his shoulder, practically carrying your weight towards the portal looming ahead. “No, no, wait,” You said, and you felt the way your words slurred as you became slightly delirious with a mixture of pain, adrenaline, and desperation. “Stop, I gotta—”
He only shook his head, before tipping the two of you forward until you both fell into the portal.
The dizzying feeling of inter-dimensional travel definitely didn’t help the pounding in your temples, nor the nausea you had previously been feeling, and you had no choice but to try and focus on Peter’s grip on you as you squeezed your eyes shut. When the world finally stopped spinning, or feeling like it was falling away around you, you opened your eyes just enough to take note of where you were — which was back in the Infirmary of the Spider Society HQ.
You shook Peter off, standing on your own weight and waving him away when he tried to assist you as you swayed once more. You glared, eyes narrowed, and turned to head straight back through the portal you had come from, only to see it close before your very eyes.
The same Spider-Doctor from the last time you were here snapped a band around your wrist, and you squinted down at the red and blue band. It made you feel lighter, even slightly, which felt good on your aching bones and muscles. You opened your mouth to speak as the Spider-Doctor led you to sit down on an empty bed with white sheets, but you vaguely saw the way his mask shifted as he presumably spoke. You couldn’t tell what he was saying with his mask on, but a minute later, you felt a sharp prick against the inside of your elbow.
You just about had the lucidity to murmur “You fucker—” before you succumbed to the weight of your eyelids.
∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘
When you woke up, it was to a throbbing pain in your forehead, that only got worse when you tried to open your eyes. At the very least, you were glad to have your hearing returned to you, albeit slightly muffled, which you were only aware of because the sound of voices across the room was the reason for you waking.
“I’m just saying, maybe knocking the kid out wasn’t the greatest idea!” Peter B. Parker’s annoyingly loud voice says, slightly high pitched in the end. Who he was saying it to, however, you couldn’t say, not without opening your eyes. And that didn’t feel like a good idea, the lights even with your eyes closed feeling like too much.
Instead, you just groan, bringing your hand up to rest over both of your eyes. “It wasn’t a great idea.” You say through gritted teeth, more than annoyed over the situation you found yourself in. Honestly, what did these people have against leaving you be? Why did they think they had any right to tell you what to do, or how to handle things, or to overrule you when it came to your own treatment?
“Hey, kid!” Peter responds, drawing the letters out in that typical oh shit voice. From the snippet of the conversation you had caught, at least he was seemingly trying to advocate for your consciousness. However, that didn’t change the fact that he was there when that Spider-Doctor knocked you out. No, you were still pissed. And when you got your hands on that doctor? He was in for it.
Any other thoughts or feelings on the matter were overturned when you realised that your hand was resting over your eyes, not the lenses of your mask.
Who do these people think they are?
You open your mouth to jump into a rant on that exact subject, on the audacity that they all have, but find yourself silenced by somebody grabbing onto your free wrist, and seemingly dropping your mask into your hand. You feel it until you’ve got it the right way around, and then pull it over your face.
The lights are much more bearable with your lenses back over your eyes, but it’s still painful, and still worsens that pounding in your head. But it does mean that you can see who’s around you; Peter, Miguel and the Spider-Doctor. You have half the mind to leap at that doctor, but Miguel is raising placating hands in your direction before you can make the move to do so.
“Let’s all calm down.” Miguel says, placing his hands on his hips when your eyes only narrow at him.
“What is wrong with you? Who gave you people the right to—to take off my mask? To knock me out? Hell, to come to my universe and get in my business!” You practically yell out, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way your back hurts with the movement and glaring when the three of them step forward to help you.
“If Peter hadn’t gotten there when he did, you would’ve died.” Miguel responds plainly, seemingly aggravated by your irritation. One of his arms is raised in a gesture towards the man, who smiles almost guiltily, as if helping you was a crime. Which, in your mindset, it might as well have been. “There was an anomaly, a villain from another dimension targeting you.”
“I can handle myself.” You spit out, though the way the room spins when you stand is almost a direct contrast to your words. Your blood is rushing through your veins, and you realise that there’s a machine beeping next to you, increasing in frequency. As you look, you realise it’s measuring your heart rate, and you yank wires off of you that you hadn’t even noticed before, as if they were exposing you somehow. “And that doesn’t give you the right to take off my mask. Who does that?”
Spider-Doctor raises his hands, as if surrendering, though seems unintimidated by the way your glare switches to him. “It was necessary. Your hearing was severely damaged by the explosion, you needed treatment. You have dampening-buds in your ears now, while your healing catches up.” While that sounds reasonable, it only makes you angrier. Why did these people even care if some anomaly killed you? If your hearing was damaged? Why did they insist on bothering you?
Miguel sighs, pinching his nose, before he lifts his head up to speak to you again. You just about stop yourself from making a snotty comment about his attitude. You didn't even want to be here, and here he was, acting like dealing with you was such an inconvenience to him. It was frustrating. “Your universe seems to be at some sort of epicentre of anomalies, and we don’t know why. Yet.”
“We’re just trying to keep you safe. You can’t deal with all of those anomalies alone, nobody can. Sometimes, you need a team.” Peter says softly, like he could convince you of the matter. “Believe me, you don’t want to learn that the hard way.” He adds on, smiling almost hesitantly, as if there’s a memory he’s thinking of connected to his own words.
You’re sighing through your nose, your teeth gritting together as you regard them. “Okay, fine, you want to come take out your anomalies, or whatever? You do that. But anything more than that isn’t welcome.” You say, at last, your eyes narrowed towards them as you wait for their responses.
You still don’t really understand it, any of it, but it’s becoming clear that you have no choice but to deal with these people. Apparently, they were not budging on all of this stuff, which — fine, so long as they stay out of your way. The last thing you need is a bunch of Spider-people stepping on your toes, or making you seem incapable in front of the citizens of your own dimension when in the end, they’ll all up and leave.
After all, you can remember your mother telling you how important it is to do things yourself. The moment you start accepting help, you relax, and when they decide they don’t want to help you anymore? You’re screwed, your sense of independence reduced to ashes. And as Arachnid, there’s far too much at stake to risk that happening.
“Here,” Miguel says, only nodding his agreement — or at least, that’s what you assume the nod was for. He throws a watch towards you, and you catch it with some confusion. “In case you see any anomalies before we do.” He explains as he watches you fiddle witht he watch in both hands, glaring down at it as if it was offensive. He’s relatively satisfied when you relax at that explanation. While Miguel doesn’t voice what else it’s for, knowing you’d only get irritated and refuse the watch, he’s silently hoping that you’ll understand. It’s so you can come to them, if you need them. They can only hope that they’ll be able to tell you that, one day, before it’s too late, without the offer scaring you off.
“So, I’m good to go?” You ask, looking between the three Spider-Men still staring at you and the watch you hesitantly clasp around your wrist. They nod, or, Peter and Miguel do, while the Spider-Doctor throws his hands in the air, exasperated.
“That dimension is yours,” Peter says, leaning over to see the screen of your watch. “The button at the bottom will input this dimension as the destination. Just press that,” He points to another button, “To open the portal to whichever dimension has been typed in.”
You nod, still pissed that he’d let the Spider-Doctor knock you out, but at least you didn’t give him a snarky comment. Instead, you just pressed the button to go back to your own dimension, and stepped through the portal the moment it was big enough for you to go through.
You didn’t expect for him to follow you through.
“Hey, listen,” Peter says, almost reluctantly, as if he doesn’t want to upset you. When you turn to him, he raises his hands, as if to further prove that sentiment. “I am sorry that he knocked you out, I didn’t know he was going to do that.”
“Okay, fine, apology accepted.” You say, flatly, turning to survey where exactly you are. It doesn’t take you long to notice the remains of the building you had been camping out in, the building charred and the air still thick with all the smoke that had been produced.
“I wasn’t done,” Peter sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose momentarily. “I also wanted to say that I’m sorry about your building. And I wanted to ask, well, mention about how when Doctor-Peter took off your mask, he noticed you don’t have anything protecting your ears, like other Spiders with your level of enhanced hearing do.”
You turn to stare blankly at him, while mulling through where exactly you’re going to stay in your head. If you’re being honest, you’re not paying his words much mind. So what, you don’t have anything protecting your hearing? Sure, sometimes you had stuffed earbuds into your ears when you knew you were going into a rough fight, but you didn’t know when some psycho exploded your building right in front of you. Plus, it’s not like you have unlimited resources to figure out some way of protected your ears under your mask while also letting you effectively use your hearing.
“Okay? And?” You ask, voice edging on the side of boredom. In all honesty, you just want to be left alone. You want to put on your comfy clothes, curl up into a ball and go to sleep so you can dream of a world where everything is okay. The likelihood of that happening is small, but not impossible, right?
“Well,” Peter hesitates then, which piques your interest the slightest bit. “Here, I had these made back when my hearing was crazy sensitive, but it’s not anymore, so I got no use for them!” He says, holding out two blue and red earbuds in a clear case. “You gotta wait until your ears are healed up to use ‘em, but I figured they’d do you more good than me.”
For a moment, you’re ready to deny him. To glare and insist that you don’t need his help. But then, he had said that they were originally for him, and he didn’t need them any longer, so really, would it be so bad to take them? To accept this one thing? To allow yourself to be saved of this tiniest bit of pain?
“You’re sure?” You ask, likely the least aggressive you’d spoken to him, though that’s not to say that it was asked softly. You were still firm on not accepting their help, on doing your own thing, but you could accept this much, surely? It couldn’t hurt.
Peter smiles, a short laugh leaving him, and he waves the box towards you. “I’m sure!”
“…Thanks.” You say, shortly, as you accept the earbuds offered to you. He also hands you the backpack that you had lost track of after the attack, and you accept that far more quickly. You’re glad that it feels the exact same weight as it did the last time you held it, before you shove the earbuds into the opening and zip it back up.
There’s a portal still open on the rooftop the two of you stand on, and Peter backs up to go towards it almost reluctantly. “Also, if you need somewhere to stay—”
“Don’t push it,” You respond, quickly, cutting him off before he could finish what he was saying. He doesn’t take offence to your abruptness, and smiles with a nod, before he disappears into the portal. You stare out at the city around you, looking in the direction of another building you had been very reluctant to return to. “What is my life?” You ask yourself, rhetorically, because you don’t know how you’d even answer that.
You glance behind you to ensure the portal is closed, before jumping off the rooftop, freefalling, relishing in the way the cold wind soothes the pain in your back. Before long, though, you have to shoot a web to catch yourself. You head towards the only place you know will be suitable for you, but can’t shake the way the thought of it chills you.
All you can do is hope that this multiverse stuff will be over with, and soon.
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