(based on headcanons + kid!Gwen & babysitter!Jess / Younger AU - like toddler and young adult)
"Miss Jess-" Gwen jogged forward, holding up her tablet, "Look. It's babies."
Jessica glanced at the screen and raised an eyebrow, holding back a small laugh, ".. Those are some big babies."
Gwen paused, then turned the tablet around, staring at the screen, ".. These babies." She mumbled, tapping at the screen.
It was a group of full-grown men in baby costumes.
Not like Jess was gonna say anything.
"You want macaroni?" Jessica hummed, looking back down at the pot in front of her.
"Bacon cheese.." Gwen mumbled, wobbling off to the living room.
"...Girl, what's bacon cheese-?" Jessica laughed slightly, reaching up to cover her mouth.
Spiderverse AU fic. Gwen and Margo are babies. Pavitr is a toddler. Hobie is a little kid. Jess is in her mid-twenties.
lowkey them
This is headcanon heavy and might not listen to lore, so yeeeeaaaaahhhhhh...
Characters Mentioned: Miguel and Lyla
Goo goo ga ga
(grammarly assit)
Headcanon Fic by Dude
5-ish, Afternoon, Spider Society (Early, early stages)
Hobie jogged to keep up with her, boots slapping against the floor as he half-ran, half-skidded behind.
“I’ve got a guitar,” he announced, like this was crucial information. Then, after a beat, “An’ I’ve got a piercin’.”
Jessica didn’t slow. Hobie darted closer and pointed proudly at the stud above his eyebrow — crooked, plastic, and very obviously fake.
“You’re eight, Hobie,” Jess said flatly, reaching back and hooking two fingers around his sleeve to tug him back into arm’s reach. “And you’re British.”
Hobie gasped like she’d gravely insulted him. “Duhhh!” He swatted lightly at the back of her leg before turning forward again. “So where’re we goin’, then?”
“Gonna see my boss,” she replied, checking her watch without missing a step. “Then we’re picking up your friends.”
Hobie’s shoulders drooped. He stared down at the toy guitar he was dragging behind him, thumb mashing one of the plastic buttons so it let out a sad electronic plink.
“I don’t wanna see your boss.”
Jess shrugged. “That’s rough.”
She nudged the guitar down with her boot. “You don’t gotta bring that thing everywhere, kid. Twenty-five hours a day.”
Hobie scowled and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like her own words thrown back at her, then bolted ahead toward the tall sliding doors.
They hissed open as Jess caught up.
“I left my motorcycle in here,” she called out.
“Mmh,” came the distant, deeply uninterested response.
Hobie wandered after her, hands immediately reaching for the glowing panels lining the walls. He poked one. Then another.
Jess gently smacked his wrist away without even looking. Hobie huffed.
They stopped beside the bike. Jess grabbed a helmet off its hook and turned, crouching to his level.
“Helmet,” she said. “Visor up or down?”
“I don’t want a helmet,” Hobie said, folding his arms. “You don’t wear one.”
“That’s ‘cause I’m too cool to get hurt.”
“I’m cool!”
Jess tilted her head. “Then you’ll wear the helmet.”
They stared at each other.
After a long, dramatic pause, Hobie stepped forward and aggressively flattened his hair down with both hands. Jess smiled and eased the helmet over his head — and the fake piercing promptly slid off his face and hit the floor.
“…Oops,” she muttered.
She scooped him up and set him in front of her on the bike. Hobie sat stiffly, arms down, trying very hard to look tough as she climbed on behind him and gripped the handles.
The engine growled to life.
Jess was just reaching for her watch when Lyla flickered into view.
“Hey! Where are you go—” Lyla vanished mid-sentence.
“Sorry,” Miguel’s voice echoed from above. “Still testing her.”
Jess rolled her eyes. Hobie snorted inside his helmet.
She tapped at her watch. A portal bloomed open in front of them.
“Hold on,” Jess said quietly.
Hobie shook his head like he wasn’t scared at all — but his hands tightened around the sides of the seat.
The portal dumped them neatly into Jessica’s apartment, and within minutes the place had settled into its usual state of barely-contained chaos.
Now they were all in the living room.
Gwen and Margo were sprawled on the couch on their backs, close enough that their socked feet occasionally bumped together. They babbled at each other in nonsense syllables, wide-eyed and delighted, as if the other was the most fascinating discovery in the universe. Gwen kicked excitedly, hands flapping. Margo answered with a happy squeal and tried to grab Gwen’s sleeve, missing entirely and smacking the cushion instead.
On the floor nearby, Pavitr sat cross-legged, very seriously explaining something with big hand gestures while Hobie half-listened, half-tuned his toy guitar.
“So then Spider-Man goes whoosh,” Pavitr said, launching his hands upward dramatically, nearly smacking Hobie in the chin.
Hobie leaned back. “That’s not how physics works, mate.”
“It is in my universe!”
“Your universe sounds fake.”
Meanwhile, Jessica stood in front of the TV, idly humming under her breath as she pretended to straighten a stack of coasters that did not need straightening. Her real focus was everywhere at once. Without even turning her head, she reached back and gently redirected Hobie away from the edge of the coffee table with the back of her hand, then nudged a pillow into place to block a sharp corner Gwen had started inching toward with her heel.
“Pav,” Jess said casually, already walking toward the kitchen, “you thirsty?”
Pavitr looked up instantly. He nodded hard and scrambled to his feet, almost tripping over his own toes before windmilling his arms and catching himself. He beamed, clearly proud.
Jess snorted. “That a yes?”
“Yes!” Pavitr chirped, following her into the kitchen.
He climbed up onto the little step stool Jess had permanently stationed by the counter, rocking on his heels to peer at everything she was doing. She filled the kettle, her free hand hovering just behind him the entire time, ready to catch.
Back in the living room, Margo leaned back against the couch cushions, tablet balanced precariously on her belly. She smacked the screen with both hands, her face scrunching into a tiny, furious scowl when the wrong app opened.
“Noooo,” she babbled angrily.
After a few frantic taps, her favorite video finally loaded — bright colors swirling across the screen in exaggerated shapes. Margo froze, eyes lighting up like she’d just won something. Gwen immediately scooted closer, craning her head over Margo’s arm to stare at the screen, her earlier babbling dropping into quiet awe.
“Ballerina—” Hobie said suddenly, holding up a battered doll he’d found under the couch, missing one shoe and half its hair. He waved it gently in front of Gwen’s face. “Oi. Gwen. Ballerina.”
Gwen glanced at the doll, blinked, mumbled something unintelligible, and then turned straight back to the glowing colors, wiggling happily.
Hobie sighed like he’d just been personally betrayed. “Wow. Rude.”
He grabbed his toy guitar and stood up, raising it dramatically over his head. He’d seen rockstars do this. It was important.
“Aye,” Jessica called instantly from the kitchen, one hand on her hip while the other gently guided Pavitr’s curious fingers away from the kettle as it began to heat. “If you break that, I’m not buying you a new one.”
Hobie froze mid-swing. He glanced toward the kitchen, scowled, then lowered the guitar and plopped onto the couch instead with exaggerated disappointment.
“Good,” Jess muttered, turning back to the stove.
The kettle started to whistle, shrill and proud.
“It’s ready!” Pavitr squealed, bouncing on the stool.
Margo and Gwen both startled at the sound, lifting their heads from the tablet to stare at each other like they’d just realized, oh, you exist. For a second, they locked eyes.
Then they both burst into giggles, identical and delighted, before collapsing back into the cushions and resuming their intense study of the colors.
“It is ready,” Jessica said, grabbing mugs from the cabinet. “But you can’t pour it. It’s hot.”
“Yeah,” Pavitr said solemnly, stepping back exactly one inch. “It’s hot.”
Jess poured the water carefully, steam curling up around her face. Pavitr watched with absolute focus.
“I wanna do the powder,” he said hopefully.
“You can,” Jess replied, sliding the container toward him.
Back in the living room, Hobie casually raised his hand and flipped the air off toward absolutely no one in particular. He dropped it immediately and glanced toward the kitchen.
Jess hadn’t noticed.
Hobie smirked and did it again, holding it a half-second longer.
“Mamama,” Gwen babbled suddenly.
“Mamama,” Margo echoed, slapping the tablet.
Jess glanced over her shoulder. “What are they doing…?” she murmured, just as Pavitr reached for a measuring cup.
“Hobie!” she snapped without looking. “Don’t do that.”
Hobie froze with his middle finger still up, eyes wide. He dropped his hand instantly and sat very still.
Jess shot him a warning look before turning back to Pavitr, helping him tip the powder into the mug.
She sighed quietly, exhaustion threaded with fondness.
“I hope you guys get easier when you’re older,” she muttered.
Concept I just made up
TW: Angst, crying, blood, broken bones, guns, etc
Don't read if you cry
(also no grammarly assit)
He just wanted to train with his uncle.
Now, he was running from the police, sirens blaring, guns cocking, it was all too overwhelming. He just wanted to go home.
He thought he was built for this, prepared for this.
No, definitely not. He was 16. He was a baby. A kid. His mom still brushed dirt off his cheek, his dad..
His dad was in front of him.
But he panicked.
With a swift move, he swung forward and slammed his fist into the man's face. A bone cracked; he heard it. He heard the crunch, the split, he heard all of it.
But he was too worried to stop, to grab his father, to cling him to his chest, to cradle the man like he once cradled him.
But he couldn't.
Not with the mask on.
Not now.
".. No.." he muttered, his feet rooted to the ground as he watched his father's body go limp. Right in front of him.
The man's nose - His father's nose - was broken.
Miles had punched him hard.
Too hard.
His hands twitched. The same hand that held him up when her took his first steps. The same hand that high-fived him before he entered school.
The same hand as the dead.
"COME ON!" Aaron's voice rang out, snapping Miles out of it.
He quickly turned and bolted, following his uncle as they disappeared into the shadows.
-
Morning felt wrong.
Sitting at the table, eating breakfast, felt awkward. His mom assumed Jefferson was staying at the station, dealing with something.
The TV was off, the apartment quiet.
"I'll wash the dishes," Rio murmured, standing up and taking their plates.
Aaron nodded, taking a long sip to finish off his orange juice before handing his glass to his sister-in-law.
"You done, Miles?" Rio asked softly, looking at the teenager.
He just shook his head, chewing on a piece of waffle. He blinked a few times, holding back tears.
Just as he swallowed, preparing to speak, there was a knock on the door.
".. I'll get it," Rio hummed, setting the dishes down on the kitchen counter before jogging to the door.
Mug still in hand, she sipped her coffee and opened the door.
An officer, not Jefferson, bandaged up and weakly smiling, stood there with a bouquet of flowers and Jefferson's police cap and badge, both things still bloodied from that night.
Rio paused, her eyes widening.
".. No-.. No, no no-" Rio shook her head, clasping a hand tightly over her mouth as she nearly dropped her mug, her brows furrowing.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Morales,"
"N-no, no, please, no.."
".. Your husband has passed away."
Rio fell to her knees, her coffee spilling over the floor as she dropped the mug, cupping her face in her hands as she began sobbing loudly.
Miles stayed seated. He couldn't comfort his mother. He did it. He can't comfort the widow if he brought the title.
Aaron, however, stood up so fast his chair fell, and rushed over, kneeling down to pull Rio into a hug. The officer stood in the hallway of their apartment, and Aaron smiled respectfully, taking the offerings from the man.
"Thank you," He muttered, nodding his head.
The officer smiled back, "Sorry for your loss."
Rio just cried, louder and louder, her face buried in Aaron's shoulder.
Miles kept eating.
"... I'm sorry, ma."
She only cried louder.
"Miguel, please, I really need extra hands today. MJ is out, and I don't want to leave Mayday alone. I’m going to be out too—please," Peter implored, his hands clasped together in a gesture that resembled desperation. Because, well, he was desperate. "I don't have a babysitter—"
"You have Gwen," Miguel replied drily, his eyes focused on the flickering screens around him as he flicked through data.
"Gwen's busy! She's doing things with her dad, and I can't interrupt their father-daughter time!" Peter countered, gesturing toward the little bundle in the carrier strapped to his chest.
Mayday, oblivious to the conversation, cooed and reached out to curiously grab at Miguel's arm. Peter, gently redirecting her hand to avoid any scratches, continued, "Miguel, please! I’ll drop off her stuff here. You wouldn’t even have to leave the place! Just watch my daughter for a few hours!" His voice rose slightly, an edge of panic slipping through.
Silence enveloped them as Miguel glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.
Jessica's voice broke through the tension. "…What’s happening here?"
"Oh—perfect timing!" Peter exclaimed, relief washing over him as he walked over to Jessica, gesturing wildly at Mayday, who was charmingly wriggling in her carrier. "Can you watch Mayday?"
"Uhh…" Jessica glanced from Peter to Miguel, who shrugged, and back to Peter. "Peter, I kinda have to help him out with stuff. I don’t have time to watch a baby."
Peter pointed toward her pregnant belly. "You—"
"Someone else's baby," Jessica interrupted, raising a finger. "There's a difference between a live baby and a baby in the womb."
"Well, yeah—" Peter snapped suddenly, making Mayday giggle at the abrupt sound. Realizing his mistake, he softened, "Oh! How about you two go to your place," he proposed, pointing at Jessica, "And do your work with your watches while also keeping an eye on Mayday?"
He looked between the two, a hopeful grin spreading across his face. "Huh? Huh?" Mayday kicked her little feet, excited at the thought.
Sighing deeply, Miguel rolled his eyes, and Jessica shook her head slowly.
"Give her to me; I’ll do it," Jessica sighed, reaching out for Mayday, who squealed in delight at the new attention. "Hand her over."
Peter let out a small "yes!" as he gently pulled Mayday from the carrier, carefully placing her in Jessica's welcoming arms.
"Hiii…" Jessica said, her voice noticeably softening as she cradled Mayday against her shoulder. "Your dad’s gonna give me a migraine!"
Mayday giggled at Jessica’s teasing tone, her two tiny teeth shining as she reached for the woman’s curls, gripping them with her small fingers.
Peter gave Jessica a grateful thumbs-up. "Thanks, Jess. Really, you’re a blessing."
"Yeah, yeah," Jessica murmured, adjusting her hold to settle Mayday on her hip. "Miguel, I’m heading home to watch her."
Miguel paused, finally turning around completely, his expression still neutral. “Just… keep your watch on,” he instructed, a hint of concern surfacing in his voice.
“I will,” she assured him, tapping the screen of her wristwatch. With a quick motion, a portal opened in front of her. "Bye!" she called out, stepping through. Mayday pressed her cheek against Jessica’s shoulder, content and curious as they vanished.
As the portal flickered away, Peter turned back to Miguel, a fond smile on his face. "Jess is such a good person, you know?"
"You annoyed her," Miguel shot back, returning to his screens. "She did it just so you would shut up."
Peter waved a hand dismissively. "Noooo, she did it out of the goodness of her heart—Oh shoot, I gotta go!" His eyes widened as he glanced down at his watch.
“I’ll see you later, Miggy!” he called out, happily summoning his own portal and rushing inside. The portal flickered away, leaving Miguel alone in the bustling atmosphere of the Society.
“…That’s not my name,” Miguel sighed, rolling his eyes.
-
A few hours later, Jessica's cozy living room was filled with the happy sounds of baby laughter.
Mayday was on a colorful mat, aimlessly waving a teething ring in the air while she gazed up at Jessica. Jessica herself was out of her spidersuit, changed into a comfortable tank top and sweatpants, a bonnet in her hands as she prepared to tame her bouncy curls.
"What’re you doing, huh?" Jessica teased softly, flipping her hair forward as she pulled the bonnet over her curls. She made sure everything was neatly tucked away while glancing at Mayday, who adored watching the spectacle and giggled each time Jessica’s hair swayed.
"You watching me put my bonnet on, huh?" Jessica chuckled lightly, her heart warming at the baby’s innocent excitement.
Once she finished her task, Jessica reached out and gently picked up Mayday, settling the baby on her thigh. "You know, your dad is a major pain in my butt," she murmured, patting the girl’s back affectionately. "He’s a total dumb head."
Mayday babbled back as if in reply, a few strands of her orange hair falling adorably over her forehead as she reached to place a tiny hand on Jessica’s stomach.
"…Ooohh, really?" Jessica replied, gently pushing back Mayday's hair, her heart swelling as the baby continued her animated chatter. She nodded along, encouraging the little one.
Suddenly, a portal opened behind them, its familiar hum signifying Miguel's entrance. He stepped through, a diaper bag slung over one shoulder and a few empty bottles in hand.
Jessica looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
“I wanted to help,” Miguel muttered, holding up the diaper bag as if it were some sort of peace offering. “Peter left the baby stuff at the Society.”
Jessica considered this, her gaze shifting to Mayday, who was now contentedly gnawing on her teething ring. “Huh,” she noted. “I was using the stuff I already had for this one.” She gestured to her stomach, the evidence of her own impending motherhood evident.
Miguel nodded, casting his eyes downward as he placed the diaper bag on the couch and set the bottles on the coffee table.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.
“No, not really. She’s far less fussy than I thought,” Jessica replied with a shrug, gently bouncing Mayday in her arms. "Very giggly, actually."
"And that’s… good?" Miguel asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Miguel, you were a dad once, you should know," Jessica shot back bluntly, leaning back against the couch with Mayday cradled comfortably against her.
Miles stood wobbly on Jefferson's lap, his bright eyes sparkling with delight as he babbled happily at his father. He giggled and playfully batted his tiny hands against Jefferson's head, bobbing his head up and down happily.
Jefferson chuckled softly, a wide smile breaking across his face. "What are you doing, Miles?" he teased, firmly securing a hand on either side of the boy’s waist to make sure he wouldn’t topple over.
"Dada-dum!" Miles exclaimed, his expression beaming with joy as he threw his head back in glee.
Jefferson gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest with mock offense. "I'm dumb?!" he said with exaggerated surprise, tilting his head towards Rio, who was busy in the kitchen. "Rio, our son just called me dumb!"
From the kitchen, Rio called back, her voice laced with laughter. "He said dada-drum, hun! He can't say R's yet, remember?"
Jefferson shook his head, still grinning, as he stood up, lifted Miles onto one of his shoulders, and paraded into the kitchen like a proud lion. "Nah, he said dumb."
"Dum!" Miles echoed, his hands reaching up to bat at Jefferson's head once more, completely enamored with the playful banter.
"See!?" Jefferson continued, feigning exasperation as he walked into the kitchen. "He’s banging my head because there’s no brain in there. Dumb."
Rio turned to Miles, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Miles, what do you do with drums?" she asked warmly.
Miles furrowed his brow for a moment, focusing intently on his mother’s words. After a brief pause, he reached out to pat Jefferson's head again, declaring proudly, "Dum, dum, dum!"
"Drums, Jeff," Rio emphasized, arching an eyebrow playfully as she glanced at her husband. "He's saying drum."
Jefferson rolled his eyes dramatically, pretending to be exasperated as he gently set Miles down in his highchair.
The little boy wiggled impatiently, kicking his feet in excitement while banging his hands against the tray, making a face that could only be described as adorably serious.
"You hungry?" Rio murmured, leaning down to look closely at Miles' face. "You look just like dada right now," she chuckled, enjoying the small resemblance between father and son.
"I don’t do that!" Jefferson protested half-heartedly, arms crossed over his chest, then paused. “I think he might be pooping—”
“No, he makes that little stank face when he’s pooping,” Rio muttered, glancing away as she grabbed the handle of the pan on the stove, briefly lifting the lid to check the contents.
Jefferson leaned closer, eyes narrowing as he sniffed the air around Miles. “He does that face when Aaron shows him music,” he replied, a hint of pride evident in his tone. "He gets that from me."
“…He also does the face when he’s pooping too, J,” Rio murmured, taking the pan off the stove and looking away, “Where’s the strainer?”
“It’s in the cabinet, I think,” Jefferson shrugged, moving over to analysis mode as he leaned down to sniff near Miles.
“Look at him, Riri,” Jefferson said, a grin creeping back onto his face. “He is trying to attack me!” He laughed as Miles reached up, attempting to put his tiny feet on Jefferson’s forehead, as if he were a springboard.
“Babies do that, Jeff; it’s perfectly normal,” Rio replied with an amused smile, bending over to rummage through the cabinet while keeping one eye on the dynamic duo.
Miles switched his gaze from his mother to his father, momentarily contemplating the chaos around him. He banged his hands against his tray again, his brows furrowing as an adorable angry face emerged.
Jefferson, ever the doting father, gently pinched his cheek, eliciting a delighted squeal from the baby. “You can wait, stinky head,” he laughed, playfully ruffling Miles’ hair.
----
When your son is at school and both of you are off that day and you lowkey don't know what to do
A headcanon fic by Dude :)
sorry of it's not the most accurate thing in the universe, I haven't watched Spider-Verse in a while bc of Peacemaker and Dispatch
Anyway, read pls 🤓
"Love you!" Miles called out, tugging his shoes on while hopping toward the door. He nearly tripped over a laundry basket but quickly caught himself against the wall, chuckling at his own clumsiness.
Jefferson glanced up from the bowl of cereal he was eating, wiping the back of his mouth with one hand as he stood. "You don't want a ride? It's a long walk," he offered, stepping forward to grab his keys from the coffee table, a hint of concern etched on his face.
"It's fine!" Miles shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "I'm a fast runner! Besides, I need the exercise!" He threw his backpack over one shoulder, adjusting the straps with a sense of determination.
"Sure… sure," Jefferson muttered jokingly, playfully squinting at his son as if he could gauge the truth of Miles' athletic prowess. He plopped back down on the couch and resumed his battle with the cereal, which seemed to be winning as he struggled to balance the spoon and bowl together.
Miles laughed a little, the sound bright and infectious, before putting on his jacket. He waved one last time, turning toward the door but not before stumbling slightly on the mat.
Jefferson shook his head, chuckling, and went back to humming to himself, leaning back to watch a rerun of an old sitcom.
Just as the door shut behind Miles, Rio stepped into the living room with a yawn, stretching her arms above her head like a cat awakening from a long nap. Jefferson turned at the sound, briefly pausing his episode to soak in the sight of her.
"Hey, baby," he muttered, setting his spoon down with a clatter and standing up. "What are you doing? I thought you had to leave early today."
Rio blinked the sleep from her eyes as she looked up at him, her hair tousled and her expression adorably disheveled. "I'm off this week," she replied with a faint smile. "… I thought I told you."
"You probably did," he mumbled, looking away as he grabbed his phone. He checked the time, then the date, squinting at the screen like it would reveal more than just numbers.
"Huh…"
"What?" Rio asked, sensing his confusion.
Jefferson looked back at his wife, a grin breaking across his face. "Looks like we get a day together since—" he held up his phone, proudly showcasing his calendar app—"I'm off too."
"You're off until something happens," Rio corrected him, a sleepy smile spreading across her face.
"Don't say that; you are too," Jefferson chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned against the wall, feeling a bit of relief wash over him.
Rio smiled and playfully shoved her husband out of the way, walking into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Jefferson followed her, his curiosity piqued. He watched her pour the rich, dark liquid into her favorite mug, one emblazoned with a whimsical illustration of a cat chasing a mouse.
Jefferson leaned against the kitchen counter, his eyes fixed on her as she navigated the morning routine. "Why don't we do something fun today? Just the two of us?" he suggested, an idea starting to form. “We could go for a hike or check out that new café downtown.”
"Just let me drink my coffee," she replied, not looking up, though her smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
"Let me enjoy the view, then," Jefferson countered, a teasing glint in his eyes. Rio gave him a light slap on the chest, a cute burst of irritation that made him grin wider.
"Jeff, I just woke up. I look like a zombie from one of Miles' comics," she said, finally turning to face him, her hands cradling the mug.
"Those zombies wish they looked like you," he said, the sincerity in his tone cutting through the light banter.
Her expression softened, and she rolled her eyes playfully, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. "You're just saying that because you didn’t have to see me before I got my coffee."
Jefferson shrugged with feigned indifference. "I might have arrived at that conclusion even before you started brewing."
----
(assisted by Grammarly because I suck buns)
these two so cool (why does it look like a tiny person is hitting the Gangnam Style behind them)
