#spiderdads fluff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alchemax-genetics-division · 10 months

Text

The Sleeping Habits of one Miguel O’hara

One-Shot || Peter B Parker x Miguel O’hara || Gen

This is unbeta’d, written in tumblr, and unedited, so any mistakes are mine alone! If there are any egregious errors, please feel free to (respectfully) reach out and I’ll fix them asap! I hope you enjoy!

———

No one had ever seen Miguel sleep. Doze, sure, but that was only late at night, and only if you were unlucky enough to wander into Miguel’s darkened lab when he hadn’t yet dragged himself back to wherever it was that he found even the scantest scrap of comfort. On nights like those, Miguel could be found slumped over the nearest lab table, forehead braced against his forearm on the tabletop. And then, mere moments later, his red eyes would blink open, as silent as a predator’s, glowing in the pitch-dark room, and the room’s occupancy would very quickly return to one.

But no one had ever seen Miguel sleep. The rumor mill abounded with speculation, each more ridiculous than the last, but only barely; he sleeps upside down like a bat, he sleeps stark naked, he sleeps in vats of fresh blood. Peter B had never paid such whisperings any mind, far more focused on his own sleep schedule and the toddler that wreaked havoc on it.

And then Peter B had confessed his feelings for his boss and, surprise of all surprises, hadn’t immediately gotten fired (or killed, he supposed, because he had seen Miguel’s talons in action and while their metal- and flesh-rending ability was agonizingly attractive in the field, he didn’t think Miguel would hesitate to use his natural weapons in any situation where he was uncomfortable, even emotionally.) Even more mind-bogglingly, Miguel had… reciprocated. Slowly, hesitantly, with all of the trepidation of someone who had been burned before, and then burned twice more for good measure.

It didn’t change much, if Peter were being honest with himself. He still co-parented with MJ. He still brought Mayday into Headquarters and, when the anomaly didn’t appear to be too dangerous, into the field. He still pestered Miguel within an inch of his life whenever he got the chance. He still wrangled spider-kids like he was paid to do it. He still did his job, when it was absolutely required of him to do so.

The only difference was that, now, he got to hold Miguel’s hand while he did it. Now, he got to throw a casual arm around Miguel’s shoulder while he made his characteristic dad jokes, giving Miguel a one-armed squeeze that conveyed more between them than words ever could. Now, he got to kiss Miguel for luck before every mission and he got to kiss Miguel in victory when they got back.

Their relationship didn’t change the fact, however, that Miguel was an incurable workaholic. Even with Peter pestering him to eat, leaving water bottles at his elbow during the day, and reminding him to sleep at some point during the night before leaving the lab to return to his shared apartment with MJ or (on nights where he hadn’t had Mayday at work that day) to the small living quarters in HQ that had been assigned to him, he knew that Miguel didn’t rest nearly enough. Something about vulnerability, Peter reasoned, and tried not to take it personally. Miguel didn’t rest around anyone; he hadn’t had the luxury of trusting the people around him and two months of love, no matter how all-encompassing or overwhelming, would change that.

So when Peter opened his HQ apartment door one night, more than ready to collapse against the nearest semi-horizontal surface and remain dead to the world for the next twelve hours straight, the last thing he expected to find was Miguel O’hara in his bed.

His first thought, irrationally, was that every single spider-person who had ever speculated about Miguel’s sleeping habits was dead wrong, because Miguel slept exactly like a normal person. Well, almost. He was on his back, which would’ve looked as stiff as a board (and therefore, not much of a difference from how he normally looked) if not for the almost delicate crossing of his bare ankles, the sleep-gentle curve of his fingers where they rested on his stomach, tilt of his head towards the window. The only light in the apartment came from the glow of the city through the window, casting a neon outline over the ridges of Miguel’s face, illuminating the long lines of his neck. Peter couldn’t help but to trace the length of the contorted muscles, twisted below Miguel’s skin; his gaze came to a rest in the tiny divot behind Miguel’s ear, a minuscule detail, so agonizingly human, and he was overwhelmed with the urge to press his lips to the fine bone of his boyfriend’s skull. He had the wherewithal to close the door, engaging the latch as quietly as possible so as not to wake the man in his bed and swearing softly when red eyes blinked open under a furrowed brow.

“Sorry love,” he whispered, toeing off his shoes and shucking his jacket to the floor. He could deal with then tomorrow. Right now, he needed to be in Miguel’s arms, preferably five minutes ago. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The city glow silhouette shifted, warping in the near-darkness, and Peter’s heart rate kicked up in his chest at the half-concealed movement, every instinct, carefully honed from decades of constant danger, screaming at him to defend himself from the shadow that slithered across the floor. But his spider-sense wasn’t activated; the skin-deep vibration that accompanied every impending blow like lightening to thunder was comfortingly absent. And then the shadow took shape, forming thick-knuckled fingers and a scarred forearm, extending towards him like an invitation, like a demand, like a plea.

Miguel’s half-lidded eyes were still locked on him, sleepily glazed, his face still slack with residual relaxation that hadn’t yet sloughed off from the force of full wakefulness, and Peter’s entire chest clenched. He didn’t try to resist the pull, drawn to Miguel’s side like a magnet. As he took the few steps to the bed, he shed his clothes and by the time he reached the edge of the mattress, little more than a hospital mat with ill-fitting sheets, he was down to his boxers and socks and even in the inky black room, he knew Miguel could see the red and blue webbed pattern that criss-crossed the fabric. Sure enough, when he stepped into Miguel’s line of sight, he heard a familiar huff of exasperation. Only two months of experience enabled him to detect the fondness that laced the sound like veined marble. Peter smiled to himself, smiled down at his sleep-softened boyfriend, smiled in gratitude to the universe.

If he had expected to be allowed to arrange himself in his own bed, he was sorely mistaken. As soon as his hands and knees indented the mattress, prepared to crawl into as comfortable a position as the thin mat could provide, Miguel had his arms around him, tugging him sharply across the remaining space between them. Before he could register the movement, Peter found himself crushed between the mattress and Miguel’s broad bulk, and he suddenly had a much better idea of how pancakes felt when he pressed them down into the pan with his spatula on mornings when he cooked breakfast for Mayday.

He and Miguel were of a height, a fact that was so well hidden by Miguel’s love of raised platforms and dramatic entrances that it shocked nearly everyone who saw them standing together, but his considerable shoulder breadth made Peter feel like an ant underneath Miguel’s body. Only his spider strength lent his lungs the force required to expand. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any stretch; it reminded Peter of the time he had nearly been crushed by a flying slab of concrete and emerged five minutes later with every joint in his body cracked, every vertebrae in his spine popped, and more limber than he had been before being slammed into the ground by two tons of rock and rebar. It was grounding, more grounding than Peter had realized he had needed.

The expansion of his chest must’ve given Miguel concern, however, because he made a noise, something like a grunt but far more sympathetic, and made to move. The second his weight lifted, Peter snaked his arms around his boyfriend’s torso, locking him in place, and Miguel collapsed back down with a huff of amusement.

“Feels good,” Peter mumbled into the side of Miguel’s head. Hair tickled at his cheek and lips but he didn’t dare pull away. Miguel hummed and shifted slightly, settling into a more comfortable but no less compressing position and within seconds, was fast asleep again. His breath ghosted over Peter’s neck where his face was tucked, pebbling the sensitive skin, and Peter’s thoughts raced.

The first position he had found Miguel in had made sense. Most spider-people slept on their backs, ready to protect themselves at a moment’s notice, all of their enhanced senses well within reach and easy use at the first sign of danger. But this, the baring of Miguel’s back to the room, the vulnerability in Miguel’s hidden face, especially for someone without spider senses, was shocking. It didn’t make sense.

Peter pondered it for a while, his mind circling itself like an endless game of chase, every go around converging on one central, illusive conclusion that stubbornly remained concealed.

And then Peter shifted. Nothing major, a mere twitch of his arm, an itch that needed to be scratched, a mindless movement. Immediately, he froze as Miguel’s entire body vibrated above him, a deep rumble emanating from the depths of his chest, his grip tightening around Peter’s torso to the point of creaking ribs and stuttered breath, and it clicked.

Oh.

Miguel had had an entire dimension stolen from him. A home, a family, a wife and daughter, all stolen unceremoniously right from under his nose. In the dead of night, with no warning or preamble, his entire world had collapsed into ruin and desolation and then nothing.

Suddenly his grip felt less crushing. The pressure hadn’t eased, and Peter knew that he’d have bruises in the morning, a ring of black and blue circling his chest, but he didn’t mind. Suddenly, he could feel the protectiveness that coursed through the muscles in Miguel’s arms. He could feel the challenge in his hold, as if daring the universe to try to steal Peter away from him. As if he’d fight God and man alike to keep Peter in his arms, and Peter knew he would.

Peter raised one arm, gently, softly, and placed it, gently, softly, in the thick mane of hair, curling it between his fingers, scratching at Miguel’s scalp with blunt fingernails.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he whispered, trusting enhanced senses to catch the barely-audible words. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, Miguel’s arms relaxed once more, returning from their current level of suffocating back to their previous level of merely constricting. His growling quieted to even purr, deepened further by the hand tangled in his hair.

Within minutes, the vibration rumbling through the entire bed, the scent of his own shampoo wafting from Miguel’s hair, and the weight of his boyfriend above him had lulled Peter into the deepest sleep he had ever gotten, and for once, he was blissfully untouched by nightmares.

———

Peter should’ve been prepared for the barrage of questions. Miguel had slipped from his room early the next morning, but not early enough to be undetected, and while the devil worked hard, but the rumor mill of the Spider Complex worked harder. So he should’ve braced himself for the onslaught of questions that the spider kids aimed at him as soon as he stepped foot into the dining hall for breakfast.

“Did Miguel sleep in your room last night?”

“Are the rumors true?”

“How much sleeping did you actually do?”

“Does he sleep at all or did he perch in the corner all night like a psychotic cat?”

That last one was the helpful input of Hobie and Peter rolled his eyes. It was far too early in the morning to deal with such pointed questions about his sex life and thinly veiled accusations about his boyfriend.

Across the room, he could feel the weight of Miguel’s gaze on him and a flick of Peter’s eyes revealed a subtle and convoluted maelstrom of emotions behind Miguel’s carefully schooled expression. Cautious hope warred with a silent plea and Peter could tell he was waiting for his response, waiting to see if Peter would reveal the depth of his vulnerability, the most sacred and coveted piece of him he had ever entrusted to Peter’s care.

With a half smile and a wink, Peter turned back to the gaggle of teenagers staring hopefully up at him, eyes wide and eager, fully expecting Peter to fuel the gossip circle and ready to take every word that dropped from his lips as gospel.

“Have you ever seen Interview with the Vampire?” Peter asked, grinning at the small chuckle he could hear floating from across the room, even over the sound of exaggerated gagging and riotous laughter that erupted around him. When he looked up, he met Miguel’s amused gaze, his eyes softened with gratitude and mirth, and they didn’t have to say anything. Even across the crowded room, their eyes said everything for them.

———

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!

Edit: If you’d like to leave some support in the form of kudos/comments, you can read this fic on AO3 here!

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #non canon compliant #spiderdads #soft #so soft #fluff #mentions of angst #but only to highlight the fluff #probably out of character but I don’t care #I’m so soft for them so I’m making them soft for each other #miguel o’hara x peter b parker #peter b parker x miguel o'hara #migeul o'hara #peter b parker

246 notes · View notes

kiribaabe · 9 months

Text

I Think Your Dad Should Date My Dad (single fathers Spiderdads AU)

Im a fool, and belated realize I haven’t updated this here in a hot minute. But Ch 7 is up! ✨

Summary:

As it turns out, Gabriella O’Hara and Mayday Parker have a lot in common. Their shared interest in superhero movies, a fascination with all things spiders. But most importantly: the fact their dads are both hopelessly single.

A sweet, modern day single fathers au where May and Gabbie go to the same school, and end up plotting to get their dads together on occasion because they’re idiots that clearly need the push.

Ch: 7/?

Where to read: Ao3

#spiderdads #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fanart #spider man: across the spider verse #idiots in love #miguel o hara x peter b parker #peter b parker #Soft #fluff #mlm #ao3 #fanfics

71 notes · View notes

vampire-chokehold · 10 months

Text

the wisp sings

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Peter B. Parker x MJ

Summary: So, no, Miguel doesn’t know how to say no to Peter, because every time he’s ever said yes, he’s felt like the luckiest guy in the multiverse.

"Would you let us make you happy? Please?" says Peter softly and Miguel closes his eyes to take in the air between them.

Warnings: too much angst, but there's a lot of fluff too!

Words: 4,363

Read on AO3

At the top of the tallest building in Nueva York, the air seems different. It doesn't feel as if it is trying to choke him from the inside out; his lungs collapsing with each breath he takes. Up there, every emotion feels small in comparison, just a speck of dust in the universe. He can let go for just one second, of everything, of himself, of all the ghosts that haunt him.

To celebrate one's step closer to death. Qué cosa tan extraña (what an odd thing to do), Miguel thinks as he looks at the date on his wristband, its soft light lingering on his hardened features in the darkness of the night.

Another year, another birthday he dreads to celebrate. For what? There is nothing he can think of that would make him any more miserable than being around people wishing him a happy day. He hasn't had one in forever.

The cars on the streets draw a map of light streaks and their sound, muffled with those of the city –the careless people of Nueva York–, seems like white noise to him. Like static, a nice and soothing background music for his thoughts. He follows their movement with his eyes, from one end of the street to the other, like a pendulum.

It is somewhat peaceful, to drown in his sorrow like this. The grief makes him almost numb in his chest. Casi (almost).

If life were any different, he might enjoy birthdays. Maybe he would feel content around people, all their smiles shining with the white of their teeth, and his too. Maybe he would blow a candle or two, eat a piece of cake, and open the presents with glee. But life isn't always –no, it never is– as we expect it to be, as we wish it to be. And Miguel has come to know this the hard way.

He can still feel her tiny fingers poking his cheek, the warmth of early morning falling onto his shut eyelids, as Gabriela tries to wake him up with a feliz cumpleaños on her lips. He can still see her eyes drawing two half moons on her face, accompanying the widest of grins. He can still taste the coffee on his lips –too sweet for his liking, but how can you refuse your child when she is more excited about your birthday than you? He could never say no to her.

What does he have to look forward to now apart from a few more wrinkles around the mouth, soreness after a complex mission, and the loneliness of going back to a home that is no longer a home but a haunted house?

No breakfast in bed.

No drawings of him and Gabi where his face doesn't look as mean as it does now.

No wish that can ever come true.

So there he is, hiding away like he always does –his chest tight and his eyes stinging with the imminent cry forming in the pit of his stomach. It was a quiet day at HQ and he knows that if he had stayed in his office, he would have spent hours looking at all those memories that he so desperately wants to bury deep beneath. He kind of hoped for a crisis to happen so he can distract himself, to dive into the violence.

"Hiya, boss, I know you ask not to be disturbed today, but Peter is looking for you and he says it's urgent." Lyla appears on his side in a blinding orange light.

"I highly doubt it, Lyla. Tell Peter I will deal with whatever tomorrow," he pushes the button to send his IA away, the light disappearing with a gentle beep.

He looks up into the night sky, the stars almost nowhere to be seen with all the light pollution.

Peter, he sighs. That is something to unpack for sure.

"I must insist, Miguel. Peter seems really serious, and you know he's never serious," the hologram appears again, this time with Lyla looking at him with furrowed brows and crossed arms.

Her expression makes him stop to think for a second. What if Peter is actually in trouble? Can he just shrug it off and ignore him? "Did something happen to Peter?" He finally asks, the worry in his tone too apparent for what he'd like.

"He sounds hurt, but I do not have any more information to disclose. I could run a diagnostics and try to determine if-"

"No, déjalo (leave it)." Miguel cuts her off as he stands up over the ledge of the building. "I'm done moping anyways."

With quick gestures, he taps at his bracelet, it beeping under his touch. A red and yellow flashing portal opens to the side of the building, waves of energy spreading up and down into the darkness. Miguel looks up at the sky one last time as if saying goodbye and then jumps off into the abyss.

The lights devour him as his body crosses the portal back to Earth-616B.

He runs out of the blinding lights, almost stumbling onto the grass in front of Peter's house. He would have liked to play it cooler, but his mind gets the best of him imagining all sorts of tragic scenarios. Peter never calls Lyla looking for him, so this has to be something important otherwise he would just wait for him to come back to pester Miguel about whatever is going on inside that silly head of his. So, of course, he runs.

With his heart almost in his mouth, he knocks on the front door.

One very long and anguishing minute passes before he decides to open the door –uninvited–, yanking the handle with too much force. The house is quiet, too quiet, and his mind rushes to paint him morbid images of Peter bleeding to death on the sofa. He walks into the living room with the sound of his beating heart hammering in his temples and the air squeezing its way down his throat. He stops himself as he comes to realize what is really going on. Just as he starts to read the banner that hangs from the wall, the words bright and colourful, Peter emerges from behind the sofa wearing a silly party hat. Next to him, MJ is holding Mayday with the biggest of smiles drawn on their faces.

"Surpriseeeeeee!" they shout in a surely unrehearsed manner as they spring into view.

Miguel, for once in his life, is speechless. He remains there, his hands still in fists to his side and his heart racing in his chest, his mouth going drier by the second. His eyes dart frantically from Peter to MJ to the banner saying happy birthday! and the realization hits him hard, too hard for what it is, really. But he can’t help it. Mierda (shit).

“Hey, you alright, Miggy?” MJ says from behind the sofa, her expression no longer cheerful.

Peter, next to her, has now dropped his hand and is wearing a confused look on his face. He goes to Miguel and nudges him with his elbow. "Bet you didn't think I'd remember, eh?" he says putting his hands on his hips, taking pride in a successful surprise, trying to lighten the mood that had suddenly shifted.

"I thought you were hurt. I thought something had happened." Miguel said in a quiet tone, looking down at his hands while he unclenched them.

"Well, that was part of the performance! I must say, I'm quite the actor. MJ always says that I-"

"I thought you were hurt, Peter," he repeats, this time his tone is too harsh and he looks up at him, his eyes pleading.

Everything feels too close, too constrained. The room suddenly looks like it's closing in on him, their questioning eyes piercing his thick skin like fire through ice. Peter touches his forearm with the softest of fingers and it burns. Tengo que salir de aquí (I have to get out of here).

Miguel turns on his heel and practically bolts out of the room, gasping desperately for air as he steps out of the house. He bends over his middle, balancing himself with his hand over his knees and he tries to breathe. He opens his mouth wide and he takes in a gust of air but it doesn't seem to be enough. The corners of his eyes are going black and there's a tingling feeling creeping up the back of his head.

"Miggy, are you okay?" he feels a hand on his back, warm and solid unlike everything else around him. "What's going on?"

Miguel doesn't move, doesn't say anything. He tries to ground himself but he feels he's starting to lose control. Peter's face comes into focus in front of him, the Spider-man kneeling on the grass as he takes his face in his hands.

"I'm here. It's okay. Breathe," his words sound so distant, Miguel can't even recognise them on his lips, the severe tone so uncharacteristic in the other man.

He looks into Peter's eyes and he wishes he could drown himself in them. How is this person so calm all the time? Peter smiles the warmest of smiles and he feels himself melt.

"Tell me what's going on, Miguel, let me in," he leans a bit closer to him and Miguel feels he's breathing the same air Peter is letting out.

Some people cannot speak without smiling and Peter is one of them. The way his eyes curve into two crescent moons and the side of his mouth wrinkles when he grins makes him feel like all that's wrong in his life doesn't matter that much.

He's come to love his carefree disposition; even when everything goes haywire, Peter is able to joke around. Cool, calm, collected. That's just who he is. Miguel wishes he could be more like him, but it isn't in his nature. He will always be a freak, cut and sewn into a monster that feeds off the people he mistreats.

"Peter, I…" he starts and then falls silent. Peter nudges him to go on caressing his cheek with his thumb. "This is too much. Too personal. Me, here, celebrating with you, MJ and Mayday. I just can't. No puedo, todo esto es demasiado para mí (I can’t, this is all too much for me)."

"To celebrate your birthday? Too personal?" Peter chuckles and he lets himself fall back, ass completely on the damp grass. "I mean, I imagined you being the kind of guy that doesn't like to age a day, but having a piece of cake and opening some presents never did anyone any harm, am I right?"

Miguel doesn't notice, but Peter's relentless positivity brings him back to reality; the way his eyes flutter all over his face, clinging to his eyes, his lips, his nose; and his soft hands on his face. There it is, how he always manages to bring him back to shore, even when he's sure he's done for.

Peter's expression changes, turning serious, but in his eyes, there's still that softness around the edges. "I get it, I really do. These things, they bring back the past…" he looks up to the night sky, his neck long and beautiful under the porch light. "But I do think you deserve to be happy, Miguel, despite all that's happened." Peter then sits up, bringing his face too close to Miguel's. "Would you let us make you happy? Please?"

Miguel doesn't know how to say no to Peter, he never has. Right from the start, he has let him do whatever he wanted with him. He has tried to stay away, to never cross that invisible line hovering between them.

But Peter is relentless.

He would nonchalantly come into his office and ramble on about whatever was on his mind even though Miguel would never answer or even look at him, but it became a habit –a habit he now can’t live without. Eventually, they grew to be close friends, despite Miguel’s efforts to push him away, and even more than that when Peter asked him to meet MJ.

He admits that the first time he set foot in Parker’s residence, his heart was beating so loud in his ears that he barely listened to a word any of them said that night. He ate and drank and talked as if it wasn’t that big of a deal for him, but inside his stomach, there was a whole hurricane of butterflies trying to make their way out.

Soon those sporadic dinners became a regular thing. Sometimes, Miguel brought empanadas, although he always apologized for not having time to cook a proper dinner as MJ did. Peter took care of the drinks, inventing cocktails that tasted much better than they looked. Gradually, routine began to feel more and more natural, and Miguel suddenly found himself sharing his life with two people.

Although he initially felt strange, as if he were intruding on something, occupying a place that clearly wasn't his, Peter always did his best to make him feel like a part of their existing relationship. And MJ, with her gentle hands and radiant smile, always welcomed him with open arms. It was very difficult not to feel loved when he was with them, and of course, it was very difficult not to love them back.

To be in a relationship again was unthinkable for Miguel. After all the people he had lost, being open to the possibility of all that suffering resurfacing –that is if it had ever disappeared– made him too vulnerable.

As open as a gushing wound.

Naked.

So, no, Miguel doesn’t know how to say no to Peter, because every time he’s ever said yes, he’s felt like the luckiest guy in the multiverse.

"Would you let us make you happy? Please?" says Peter softly and Miguel closes his eyes to take in the air between them.

“Yes,” he breathes.

MJ had baked Miguel a birthday cake with his name on it between pink hearts made out of strawberries.

"People our age shouldn't have to blow out the exact number of candles corresponding to our age. It's a rule in this house," she says as she lights the single candle stuck in the middle of the cake. "Make a wish, Miggy."

Miguel closes his eyes before exhaling all the air from his lungs. He doesn't like making wishes because he knows that the one wish he would ask for is impossible to fulfil, but he feels that he owes it to MJ and Peter for all their effort. What to ask for? Love, health, money, those things that are usually requested from the universe as if magic exists?

To forget? To heal?

The small flame of the candle quickly extinguishes, leaving behind a wisp of smoke that dissipates amidst the applause from MJ, Peter, and Mayday. A shy smile forms on Miguel's lips as he sees how happy they are. Their joy is truly contagious.

"MJ, it looks amazing. I think I deserve at least two slices," says Peter as he extends his plate. He leans on Miguel's shoulder and whispers in his ear, "What did you wish for? For a drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend?"

Miguel can't help but laugh because, despite everything, Peter always maintains his teasing personality. "I already have that, idiota (idiot)." he responds, turning his head to look at him, raising both eyebrows in a playful manner.

MJ leans on the table in front of them and with a finger, she takes a bit of icing from the cake and smudges Miguel's nose. "Did you know that secrets whispered in the ear are considered rude?" she makes a mock frown while sucking her finger.

In the past, Miguel would have been mortified with embarrassment, but he has grown accustomed to their innuendos, and he himself has become comfortable responding to them, a far cry from the stoic character that everyone knows.

He leans over the table and takes MJ's hand, her finger still moist with her own saliva. With the tip, he wipes off the icing and then puts it in his mouth, slowly sucking on it while maintaining eye contact with her. MJ's face turns the same colour as the cake in an instant.

"Before this becomes something, I think you should open the gifts," Peter's smile is huge as he picks up Mayday in his arms. "Shall we find that beautiful drawing you made for Miggy's birthday?"

Miguel can't help but melt every time he sees Peter interacting with his daughter. At first, he played tough and ignored all the times Parker tried to show him photos of the little one, but deep inside, there was a warmth slowly growing.

Mayday is nothing like Gabriela, yet they are two peas in a pod. He sees in her everything he misses about his daughter, and although the memory is like a relentless knife digging into his side, having her close makes him happy. Having them close makes him terribly happy, despite the fear.

Suddenly, silence envelops the room where MJ and Miguel are left alone, but it's not uncomfortable; quite the opposite. When did he start feeling at home in a home that wasn't his?

"Are you okay, Miggy?" MJ asks with a sweet voice, cupping his cheek with a hand that looks ridiculously small on his face.

Miguel looks at her, and although his instinct is to retreat into himself and put up a barrier between his heart and her, he gently places his hand over MJ's and lets the weight of his head rest on both of them. He closes his eyes in a sigh that feels like the first breath of the day. "I still struggle... to come to terms with all of this. I've been alone for a long time, and... it's hard."

He struggles to find the words, especially in front of MJ, who is always so in tune with her own emotions. Honestly, Miguel sometimes feels emotionally inept, and he can't help but question what he can offer her when she's already with Peter –even though he and Parker are like day and night and have nothing in common. Physically, he has no doubt that he fulfils certain fantasies for both of them, but emotionally? Why would anyone want to be with such a broken person who can't relate without dragging along a bag of traumas and misfortunes? Nevertheless, he feels grateful that MJ insists that he learns to communicate better. He wants to be better.

MJ turns his face slightly, now their lips so close that Miguel feels like he's crossing his eyes to see her better. "You know I love you, don't you?" her voice is barely a whisper, as if no one else in the universe is worthy of hearing those words, words that are only for him. "That Peter and Mayday and I love you."

Love. When was the last time someone told me they loved me? He tries to remember, but he can't place the memory in his mind. There are many things he doesn't remember. About Dana, for example. Neither how he felt all the air leaving his body when he first saw her, nor how the world stopped when their lips met, nor how his skin turned to fire with the touch of her fingers, nor how her lips curved upwards, forming the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Miguel doesn't remember when was the first time he was told "I love you." And although he doesn't remember –or so he thinks – an entire lifetime that now feels as distant as unreal, he carries the memories tattooed under his skin, etched into his bones until the day he dies.

"I love you too, MJ. I love you all." Miguel says it as if his life depends on it, with all the air and all the love he carries within. And then he kisses her gently and with a certain impatience, with the hunger of someone who has long yearned for forgiveness.

"Then everything will be fine. We don't need anything else," MJ responds, and her eyes are also like crescent moons when she smiles like Peter’s. Like Gabriela's.

MJ and Peter had difficulty choosing Miguel's birthday present. They couldn't agree on what Miguel might want or need, considering how reserved he is about the things he likes.

"I know you're not a gift person, and that's why it's been bleeping difficult to find something that would suit you, but I think I nailed it this time," Peter proudly says as he puts a poorly wrapped package in Miguel's hands. "Sorry, MJ, I win."

Miguel takes the gift reluctantly, with the embarrassment of knowing that too many eyes are watching him, and he opens it carefully.

"Go ahead, big guy, break it! The best part of opening gifts is tearing the paper! Use those claws that I love so much!" Peter encourages him, laughing. Miguel rolls his eyes but follows his advice and tears apart the remaining unopened paper.

In his hands, he has a black jumper that seems to be handmade. He looks up and sees Peter staring at him with an expression full of love.

"Did you make this?" the surprise in his voice is more than evident because when did he learn to do something like this? Peter nods, his lips curving into a proud smile. "I had no idea you had this skill, Parker."

"Knitting? Well, it's something Aunt May taught me, I don't quite remember why. But how did you not know? I told you I made this for Mayday!" he shows him the Spider-Man mask that the girl is wearing, and she giggles in his arms.

Miguel looks at the jumper in his hands again, caressing the material with his rough fingers. It's so soft. He unfolds it and opens it in front of him. And it's huge!

"I wanted you to have your own jumper. One that fits you. After all, you always come home after a mission, and my clothes never fit you properly. Don't get me wrong, we love that you're practically naked all the time! But winter is around the corner, and maybe... well, that." Embarrassment starts to colour Peter's ears pink as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Peter, I love it. It's... it's perfect. Gracias (thank you)."

“Ok, now it’s my turn!” MJ interrupts them and slides in between to hand him her present.

It's a small box, wrapped with a red ribbon. Miguel opens it and finds a USB drive inside. Puzzled, he looks at MJ for an explanation.

"I made you a mixtape! So you can listen to it in the office when you're alone and missing us, or when we're here and we want to dance... or do things that aren't exactly dancing," she laughs, slightly blushing, and plants a kiss on his lips that tastes like pure bliss. "There's a bit of everything in there, but they're songs that remind me of us."

"How do you know what kind of music I like?" Miguel raises an eyebrow, teasingly.

"I have my ways. A little birdie once told me they heard you singing... and I improvised! I hope I got it right."

¿Qué hice para merecer todo este amor? (what did I do to deserve all this love?) Words won’t come out of his chest, lumped up in his throat like a ball of concrete. He had wanted so desperately to be loved again, and there he is, with more love than he can handle. He feels like he was going to burst with love at any moment.

They are the song he sings every night in his sleep, a song of redemption.

"Thank you, MJ." His eyes soften as he looks at her. "Although I won't be listening to it in the office." he hugs her tightly and kisses both her hands with such tenderness. Everything feels like melting.

After Peter clears his throat in mock annoyance, Miguel stands up, still holding onto the jumper (feeling like he doesn't want to let go) and the tiny box, and gently kisses Peter on the lips. Mayday, caught between the two men, laughs and tries to grab Miguel's face. When they pull apart from the kiss, Miguel holds Mayday in his arms with tenderness.

"Mayday, would you like to give him your gift?" MJ asks with a loving voice, placing a piece of paper in her extended little hand.

"Let me see. ¿Es para mí? (is it for me?)" he says in a higher-pitched voice than usual, something that always makes Peter laugh because it contrasts greatly with his grumpy tone as a super important and intimidating boss back at HQ.

Mayday had drawn a picture of the four of them, and even though the girl was still young, it was perfectly clear who was who. A stick figure with red hair, another one with a pink bathrobe, and him, wearing the Spider-Man suit. Did she draw fangs on me?

There it was again, that tingling in his hands, that cold sweat at the back of his head. The vertigo of terror at the possibility of losing them too. How could he recover from such a loss? Again? He couldn't fathom his life without Peter, MJ, or Mayday. The time he spends with them feels like a wound healing: sometimes it stings and makes him want to run away, but most of the time, it feels as natural as breathing. He knows that before finding himself alone in emptiness again, he will do everything possible to keep them by his side. But this time, he won't make the same mistakes of the past.

"Don't you think we look great together?" MJ whispers by his side, resting her cheek against his arm and running her hand through his hair from his nape up, the sudden contact bringing him back to reality, calming him. She always can tell when he’s spiralling.

And she is right. MJ is always right.

They look great together.

And fear won’t take that away from him, ever again.

#miguel o'hara #peter b parker #mj #spiderdads #polyamory #throuple #this shit is angsty as hell but there's also comfort where it's needed #fluff fluff fluff i don't know how to write smut #i had the best time writing miguel #he's the poorest little meow meow #atsv #marvel

73 notes · View notes

cheezyratz · 10 months

Text

Gonna be doing this for spiderdads! ^^ you’ll have to send an ask for which prompt I should do to mark my bingo ^^

(if u have more than one prompt you’d like for me to write, please send the individually rather than in one ask, thank u! ^^) under here is a list of the prompts on the image

❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙

1a love confession

1b “this made me think of you…”

1c genuine apology - finished

1d don’t be jealous

1e birthday surpprise

2a waking up

2b comfort and reassurance

2c there was only one bed

2d “you didn’t need to do that…” - finished

2e compliments

3a touch starved - finished

3b nursing illness or injury - requested

3c is a free space, there is no prompt here

3d day time date

3e accidentally saying something - requested

4a playfighting

4b tickled (I must confess I don’t really know how to write someone getting tickled)

4c a special occasion or holiday

4d leaving notes

4e pet names

5a overhearing

5b nighttime date

5c teasing

5d first kiss - requested

5e stealing clothes - requested

@queerlilchinchin

#sfw interaction only #Writers on tumblr #fluff prompts #spiderdads #i love those nerds so much 😭#miguel o’hara #Peter b parker

33 notes · View notes

mwahaechz · 4 months

Note

Omfg just saw ur dad spiderman mark au AND ITS SOOO GOOD CLD WE PERHAPS GET ANOTHER ONE WHEN his daughter has a bf in kindergarten and mark got super jealous and protective????

EEEEE stop i love spiderdad mark so much 🥹🥹 im so sorry uts been so long anon 😭 but here u go i hope u enjoy <3

spider mark × g!n reader

warnings : fluff, just pure fluff, jealous/overprotective spiderdad mark, spiders, webs, puppy love, kindergarten sweethearts TT, kisses <33, mark is a simp for you !!!!, they’re so in love i might just kms

read pt1 of the spider-dad chronicles. (optional!)

mark wasn’t one to be jealous, he really wasn’t. so why was he glaring daggers at the little boy sitting next to his daughter on-top of the slide. now, don’t get mark wrong, he trusted his daughter with his whole heart. but knowing that everyone but him knew she had a boyfriend at the ripe age of four and a half was baffling.

“babe.. why didn’t you tell me?” mark whined for the nth time, tugging at your shirt as he kept his eyes on the way the little slightly tannedboy treated jinni. you sighed, hugging him and pecking his lips softly.

“she told me she didn’t want me to tell you, plus, i thought donghyuck would’ve told you..”

“dONGHYUCK..?!? shes dating his son?! nope. im not having it.” mark scoffs, shaking his head and standing up straight to walk over to the toddlers.

you place a hand on his chest and softly push him to sit back down on the bench, cupping his face to make him look at you. “mark, just let the kids be.. its only a puppy love, they’ll forget about it eventually when they get older.” you reassure him, leaning in to get a taste of his pouting lips.

“yeah, but… we were also a puppy love, and look at us now!” he softly whines, pouting even more as he squints his eyes at the little boy helping his daughter up the steep steps of the playground.

“babe, we were both in first grade when we met.” you playfully roll your eyes, leaning your head against your husband’s chest.

“so?” he furrows his brows, leaving a kiss on the back of your hand before playing with it.

your heart flutters, a soft blush growing on your cheeks at his random acts of affection that have you falling in love and wanting to get married again. “they’re in kindergarten.” you say, looking up at him from your place on his chest.

he looks down at you, the words in the back of his throat ready to leave when he suddenly forgets everything but the way your pretty eyes look up at him. mark slightly clears his throat, neck and face burning up. “..and? that’s basically the same thing.”

you giggle at the fact that his words don’t really make sense. “we were both either six or seven years old when we were in first grade, mark, the kids are barely four.”

“two years isn’t that much of a difference, they’re basically already in high schoo—” you cut him off by sweetly kissing him, hands cupping his face as he sighs and melts into the kiss. he leans his forehead on yours, arms wrapping around your waist.

your kisses were his favorite thing to destress with. he would go hours and hours just kissing you if he could. the canadian would constantly kiss you, be it anywhere. your husband just couldn’t keep his lips off you, but you loved it.

you loved the way he would melt into your hold when you kissed him, the way he would throw away anything for just a kiss from you, the way he always made sure to kiss you softly and sweetly, not to mention the fact that he always asks before doing so like a proper gentleman.

“so.. why didn’t you tell me about the fact that your son had been hitting on my daughter..?!” the canadian male asks the tanned male, eyes glaring at the younger male. donghyuck chuckles, having pulled off his mask to drink his cup of.. banana milk?

“listen, milk-”

“mark.”

“milk. as i was saying.. it’s not that much of a big deal, it’s just a silly lil’ puppy love.” donghyuck says, shrugging as he chugs the rest of his banana milk. his black and red deadpool suit blending in well with the night as he stands up on the side of the parking lot edge.

mark looks up at the male, softly swinging his legs back and forth as he looks at the night sky instead. “.. my little girl is growing up..” he mumbled, memories of when jinni was first born, when she took her first step, when she finally learned she could shoot webs, when she spoke his name, all flooded his mind as his eyes slightly glossed over.

“i love my family,”

“okay, we get it mister ‘friendly neighborhood spider-dad-man’.”

“oh shut up, donghyuck!”

“make me~ … wAIT. NO. NOT THE WEB- MFPH!”

“you had it coming, lee.”

the ending was slightly rushed bcz i just wanted to publish it before i end up forgetting 😥

but i hope you enjoyed <3

#LIA’s ‘THE INCREDIBLE SPIDER-DAD’ 💌:#nct dream #nct drabbles #nct fanfic #nct dream x reader #love #nct dream fluff #mark lee fluff #mark lee drabbles #mark lee nct #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #spidermark #mark lee #mark fluff #mark #markhyuck #nct fluff #nct mark

316 notes · View notes

redstarwriting · 11 months

Text

partners

hobie brown x reader

request?: yes

request: “Hello! Sorry if this request is really long ;-; okay so hobie and the reader are new recruits to the spider society and are partnered together at first was difficult to get along but as time goes on and they get the whole partner thing down an obvious attraction between the two, but no action was made until one difficult fight against an anomaly. While fighting pieces of a broken building had fallen on the reader, leaving them stuck while hobie went over to try and get them free but was struck by anomaly and the reader hated seeing hobie get hurt used all their strength got out from under the rubble and took care of the anomaly and realized that they could no longer stand idly by without telling hobie the truth. I'm sorry about the length and thank you if you chose to write it 🫡🙏 love your work !!”

requested by: anon

word count: 2.7k

genre: angst(ish), fluff

Warnings: language, stab wound, broken ribs, panicked Hobie, mentions of blood, mentions of severe injuries, stitches, mentions of needles

A/N: ok so i got a little carried away with this one LMAO and NEVER apologize for a request being long! I appreciate all the requests i get no matter how short or long they are 🖤 please enjoy!

───────────────────────────────────

Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.

And unfortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.

The reasoning was because he didn’t trust Hobie to do any of his Spider Society duties — at least not in a smart way — and you were very… meticulous. You had a way you did things and didn’t like when your way was compromised. It helped that the two of you were the same age, so Miguel’s dad side popped out and figured the two of you could influence each other.

The first time the two of you went on a mission together, that was far from the truth.

Walking back into Spider Society, you would have thought the two of you didn’t complete the mission. You did, obviously, but the two of you literally looked like your asses got beat. Because you did. “What… happened?” Miguel asks, honestly a little concerned and shocked at the state of you two. “What ‘appened is ‘at I work alone, but you insisted I work with this bloody fuckwit.”

“I TOLD YOU A PLAN AND YOU SAID ‘Yeah, sure, mate, but I’m doin’ what I want’ AND THEN ALMOST DIED YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING DUMBASS!” you yell and he rolls his eyes. “Well, ‘ave you ever considered your plan was shit, mate?”

“No! Because it wasn’t!”

“Yes! It was!”

“It was better than your fucking plan of jumping in and just winging it!”

“That’s rubbish! I—”

“Would the both of you stop?!” Miguel yells, and the two of you glare at each other before looking at him. “Hobie, listen to them next time. (Y/n), don’t be afraid to let some things be improvised.”

“Next time?” Hobie nearly screams, and Miguel nods. “The two of you are partners. You’re a team. It’s time to act like it,” Miguel says, and the two of you groan. “I don’t ‘ave to do anythin’ you say, asshole,” Hobie says to Miguel, and he frowns. “You both need to learn how to work with others.” “But we’re Spider-People! We’re supposed to work alone,” you say, and he shakes his head. “No. The two of you are partners. Learn to work together.”

From that point on, the two of you exclusively went on missions together. And you slowly started to learn how to work together. To the point where the two of you were nearly unstoppable. Miguel’s plan worked, Hobie learned some structure, and you learned to be a little more flippant in your decisions. To say he was a proud spiderdad was an understatement. He bragged about it to Peter and Jessica any chance he could get. Something he didn’t expect was the unwillingness from the two of you to then stop being partners. “You’re mental if you think ‘m not gonna keep workin’ with ‘em. Dumbass’ll die,” Hobie crosses his arms. “How to you expect him to survive if I’m not there to tell him what to do?” you roll your eyes.

Miguel was confused, but he didn’t hate the pair-up. So, he said fine and continued treating you two as a partner unit.

It was only later on that he realized why the two of you refused to stop working together. And it was thanks to Pavitr that he found out. “Miguel!” Pavitr yells, running over to him. “Yes, Pavitr?”

“How did you know?”

“How did I know what?” Miguel asks, already exasperated with the conversation. “About (Y/n) and Hobie!” Pav says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow at him. “What about them?”

“That they’re so obviously head over heels for each other! That’s why you paired them up, right?” he says excitedly, and Miguel just stares at him. “No.”

“Oh… well, forget I said anything, then. You had me worried there for a second, bro. I thought you could read people better than I could, and I couldn’t have that,” he trails off as he starts webbing away. Now that Miguel thinks about it, you and Hobie did have some sort of gravitational pull toward each other. He noticed that even when the two of you weren’t working together on a mission, you were constantly near each other. Even when the rest of the problem children weren’t around. And he never did quite see Hobie smile at anyone else the way he smiles around you. And you did tend to stare at Hobie for seemingly no reason. Damn. Guess pairing you two up was a good idea for multiple different reasons. Now he wasn’t just a proud spiderdad of the two of you, but of himself as well. “Good job, Miguel,” he nods, talking to himself.

However, while it was obvious for everyone, including the two of you, there was never anything pursued. No one could really understand why the two of you haven’t just been honest with each other, honestly. It was obvious to everyone the two of you cared more about each other than anyone else in the multiverse, but the two of you just continued saying you were merely friends and that there was no special relationship between the two of you. Which was a blatant lie, even to the two of you, but it continued to be the story told.

Until this latest mission.

The two of you were tasked with capturing an anomaly in your world. Of course, you were the only one told about it, but Hobie showed up anyways. It ended up being a Doc Ock variant, easy enough, but this specific one was tough. His arms were stronger and more technologically developed than others. Not to mention his annoying willpower to not give up. “Right, what’s the plan, then, love?” Hobie asks, and you frown. “We need to find a weak spot in his arms,” you say, and Hobie tuts. “And ‘ow are we gonna do ‘at?”

“Guess we’ll have to improvise,” you shrug, and he smiles at you. “‘ave I ever told ya I love it when it’s clear I’ve rubbed off on ya?”

“All the time, Hobie. Now, let’s go catch ourselves an octopus,” you say, and the both of you start fighting. And he was indeed harder to beat than the both of you expected. And it quickly becomes apparent to this Octavius that the two of you have feelings for each other with how often Hobie is trying to protect you, and how often you’re trying to protect Hobie. So, he figures it would be easier to take one down and distract the other long enough to take the other down. And that’s how you get thrown into the side of a building with so much force that it collapses around you.

Hobie, of course, immediately panics. He rushes over to you, frantically digging through the rubble. He sounds the most panicked you’ve ever heard him “(Y/N)? LOVE CAN YOU ‘EAR ME?!” You cough, yelling out a quick yes before trying to push as much of the rubble as he possibly can off of you. He manages to free enough of the rocks that he can see you, and you can see him. “‘m gonna get you out of there, love,” he mumbles, and you shake your head. “Deal with him first, I’ll be fi—”

“No.” Hobie doesn’t leave any room for arguments, continuing to throw rubble around to try and get you out. Unfortunately, he’s too focused on you and the worry that you might get severely injured to notice the mechanical arm about to smash into him until it’s too late. You scream his name as he gets struck, and flies into another building with a thud. He hears a sickening crack in his head and pain spreads throughout his torso. He groans, realizing his ribs just broke (again) and he can’t move for a moment.

He’s dazed, you can tell, and it just pisses you off. Doc Ock laughs, muttering something about how it was ‘too easy when it came to partners.’ You were enraged. You rarely use your full strength, in fact, nearly all the spiders try not to use their full strength for fear of what they might do to their enemies. But you’re too angry to think straight, and you just want this asshole to shut up so you can go home. You growl, beginning to lift the rubble off of you. The piece you’re lifting is a large part of the building, which is why you were trapped in the first place. Doc Ock glares at you, preparing to continue the fight. He didn’t expect you to fight back like this after the other had been struck down so violently.

You push the rubble above your head, casually holding a large piece of a building and breathing heavily. Not from overexertion, but from anger. Doc Ock extends his arms toward you, one opening to reveal a sharp dagger going directly for your heart. Before it can stab you where you would surely die, you’re able to twist your body to ensure it only goes through your shoulder. The pain is searing, but you’re too distraught to care about it. You rip the dagger out with one arm, somehow holding the building with one hand before you throw the rubble at him. He quickly brings up his arms to soften the blow, and even though they successfully make the rubble crumble around him, the kick you deliver to his face is enough to knock him back. Hard.

He looks up at you, dazed and confused about how you got to him that fast, before you deliver another blow, knocking him out cold. Your chest heaves as you raise your arm to strike him again before it’s held back by someone. Hobie captures him in one of Miguel’s specially designed prisons, and then opens a portal. He just tosses him in. He’ll show up in Spider Society one way or another. “Calm down there, sweetheart,” he says, and you turn, immediately checking over him to see how hurt he is. You can see some gashes throughout his suit, but he seems stable enough. All because he saw you get stabbed, and he’s pretending like his ribs aren’t in half. “I was just caught off guard, love, ‘m fine,” he says softly, slipping his arm behind your shoulders and slowly lowering you to the ground. “Wish I could say the same for you,” he mutters, staring at the stab wound pouring out blood. “Oh, this? This is nothing,” you grunt, the pain coming to the forefront now that the adrenaline is gone. He scoffs. “Yeah, ‘m sure,” he mumbles, unable to take his eyes off of your injuries. “Hobie… hey, my eyes are up here. Mask is on, so they’re so big you can’t miss ‘em,” you tease, and he looks up at you. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For bein’ soft in the ‘ead. Now you’re ‘urt cause a’ me,” he says quietly, and you shake your head. “You’re hurt because of me. I should have been paying closer attention to where I was going,” you mutter, and the blood loss begins to affect your head, “I kinda lost it when I thought about how your pretty face may have gotten fucked up.”

“Pretty, eh?”

“Mhm. So pretty,” you mumble, and he picks you up, carrying you with one arm and applying pressure to the wound with his other hand. You wince, and he frowns. “Sorry, love, can’t ‘ave you bleedin’ out on me after you admitted ‘m pretty,” he says. “Hold onto me best you can, yeah?” You wrap your good arm around his neck and your legs around his waist as he removes his hand from your wound and begins swinging to your place. He has one arm wrapped firmly around you to make sure you don’t fall, especially when he feels your grip loosening. “Stay with me, love,” he mumbles in your ear as he lands on your fire escape, hurrying up to your window and opening it. He steps in, carrying you, and goes straight to your bathroom. He props you up against your wall, sitting in front of you, and getting out the first aid kit all Spider-People are oh so familiar with.

You struggle to stay awake, but the stinging of the alcohol when he started cleaning your wound wakes you up and causes you to wince and whine. “I know, it ‘urts, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, getting the needles ready to stitch you up. The pain of being a Spider-Person never quite lets up. You clench your teeth, and he works as fast and diligently as possible to get you fixed up. The whole time you just stare at his face. He’s so concentrated and worried that you can tell he’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He finishes up, looking up at you. “You’re starin’, love.”

“How can I not?”

“The blood loss must really be gettin’ to ya,” he says, setting your first aid kit to the side, and giving you a small smile. You snort and shake your head. “Thanks,” you say, and he nods. “’Course, (Y/n/n).” Then you frown. “You have a cut on your forehead.”

“I’ll live,” he says, and you motion him to come closer. He gladly scoots closer to you as you apply a butterfly bandage to his forehead. He stares at you the whole time, waiting for you to finish. When you do, the two of you make eye contact. “Ya really think ‘m pretty?” he mumbles, and you nod. “Have for a while.”

“Serious?”

“Mhm,” you process just how close the two of you are in this moment and feel your face heat up. He smiles softly. “Not as pretty as you, though,” he whispers, glancing at your lips before returning his gaze to your eyes. The two of your noses brush, and he gently puts his hand on your cheek. “‘m tired of runnin’ from this,” he whispers. “Me, too,” you say, closing the gap between the two of you. He wraps his free arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him as you place your hands on his shoulders. The two of you stay like that for what feels like way too short. He slowly pulls away, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Reckon we should go back to Spider Society,” he mumbles, and you sigh. “I dunno… I kinda wanna stay here. With you, no one else,” you say, and he chuckles. “Oh, me too. I don’t wanna go, but Miguel will call both of us if we don’t. We go, tell ‘im we didn’t die so ‘e doesn’t bother us, come back, yeah?”

“Deal,” you mumble, and he slowly stands, wincing. You frown. “You broke a rib, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, a few. I’ll be fine, nothin’ new,” he says, holding his hand out to you and helping you up. “Are ya lightheaded?”

“A little, but I’ll survive,” you assure, and he nods, wrapping his arm around your waist anyways to steady you. You wrap yours around his waist as well, offering him some extra support as he opens a portal to Spider Society. The two of you walk (moreso limp) your way there, and Miguel looks at the two of you. “What… happened?”

“Eh. Bloke was an ass,” Hobie says. “I was worried when he came through a portal but the two of you didn’t.”

“We had to stitch ourselves up. We just stopped in to say we didn’t die,” you shrug, and Hobie nods. “Well… alright, then. You can go to the hospital here if you need to,” Miguel says, and Hobie shakes his head. “Nah. We’re just gonna go sleep it off.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re even recovering as partners now?” Miguel asks, and the two of you look at each other. “We do everything as partners now,” you say, and Hobie smiles. “You mean…?” Miguel realizes the two of you have finally come to terms with your feelings. And finally told each other. “Yeah. We’re partners. In every sense of the word,” you grin, and Hobie nods. “Guess I should thank ya, Miguel. Don’t get used to it,” Hobie says as you pull up the portal to your world. Miguel watches the two of you disappear into it.

Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.

And fortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.

───────────────────────────────────

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spiderverse #atsv

759 notes · View notes