Hobie & reader x Hobie headcanons I think about (not exclusively romantic, SFW):
I bet he only sits/perches on any surface that isn't a chair. When it's a chair he will not sit like a normal person, he will always kick his legs up or rock on it but that'll usually end in him toppling backwards and having mini heart attacks so he avoids them. He will sit on anything else like tabletops, floors, shelves the wall, the ceiling (spider core) but if he can't lean back on it he's not sitting on it for long and finding other options
Hanging out with him consists of either doing nothing or doing everything. Sometimes both. Loves roughhousing and bothering you and being part of your life actually
Will rope you into one of his 5 million sporadical hobbies like knitting a blanket or fixing a car or *cough* making his own bootleg version of the dimensional gizmo *cough*
Takes full advantage of his spider powers, even in his everyday life without giving a fuck about who sees (okay, maybe a little. Doesn't do it much in public as much as he does when you're hanging out privately or in small group settings)
Likes being upside down. Hanging upside down, walking upside down, swinging upside down. Likes not using the floor in general, refuses to be sedentary if it's not with you cause life gets boring and unsafe, but you don't
Is a Jack of all trades (master of none, but often better than a master of one) cause you'll need that type of versatility and flexibility in punk anarchy. Literally look at this guy and tell me that he doesn't cook the finest fried rice and season his convenience store noodles with home spices and top them with protein and greens. (You can't)
When he needs to do something he's never done before he proudly gains the AUDACITY to wing it (with proper research and instructions)
Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader
Word count: 4.1k
Synopsis: Hobie falls down the rabbit hole and meets multiple different versions of himself from different universes.
Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, multiple variants of Hobie from my different AUs, cowboy!/OPIN! Hobie, dad! Hobie, Vampire!/IPOB! Hobie, TTN!/Bestfriend! Hobie, Prowler! Hobie, Fae!/TF! Hobie, Spy!/ Mr. Smith! Hobie, Pirate!/BDAS! Hobie, CW food mentions, established relationship, fluff!
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Octobie'25
Custom banners by @across-the-spidershroomverse
Support banner by @/cafekitsune
A/N: I can't believe Octobie is almost over 🥹
The fight with the sandman was tedious, Hobie’s heaving and sweating as he watches the anomaly get wheeled back to HQ. He’s so knackered that his knees are wobbling, and his arms and wrists ache from all the web swinging he did. There’s a cut on his forehead where the sandman got lucky with a fist made out of sand. He never thought that sand could even hurt that much to begin with. He’s glad that there’s no sandman variant in his dimension.
He’s left standing in the aftermath of the fight, buildings crumbled before him, sand dunes covering streets and cars. It’s as if the whole city turned into a desert within the short hours of the struggle.
“You look like shit.” Gwen appears behind the portal with a hand on her hip as she saunters over to him.
Hands on his knees, panting, he notices his trainers on her feet before looking up at her with a glare. “Are those my chucks?”
“Y/N let me borrow it since hers doesn’t fit me.” She shrugs, looking at his sand clad suit teasingly. “You better shake that off before you come home, she was having one of her cleaning maniac phases before I left.”
Sighing, just the thought of seeing you at home has him wanting to run away into your waiting arms. “Thank fuck…” he mumbles to himself before taking a step towards Gwen and then shaking his head and body as sand flies and flicks towards the blonde.
“Hey!” She pushes him away as Hobie chuckles. “I just washed this, man!” Wiping her suit, she groans when the sand sticks to the spandex of her gloves instead. “Oh, come on!”
“Now you have to clean up too before goin’ back home.” Flinging some sand away from his watch, even scrubbing at the screen to clear some stubborn bits away, he dials in his home dimension. He groans when he remembers something you asked him to do before giving him your usual kiss at the door. “Ah, shit.”
“What? Did it break in the fight?”
“No, I forgot that lovie wanted me to grab some walnut bread for dinner.”
“The one from Miles’ place?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” Hobie blows a tired raspberry as he inputs 1612’s coordinates. “She fancies that stuff better than ours.”
“I could get it for her.”
Almost immediately, Hobie’s eyes flick back at Gwen with a teasing glint. “Alright.”
“Shut up and give me the cash.” He could tell that she’s blushing under her mask as she pats her open palm.
“I didn’t even say anythin’.” Handing her a couple of bills, she rolls her eyes and walks back to the portal. “While you’re there, invite him over.”
“Oh, fuck you!” Walking backwards, Gwen flips him the bird before the portal closes behind her.
Snorting, Hobie turns his attention back to his watch as the lights flicker for a moment before he smacks it and the screen returns to normal. He makes a mental note to clean it when he gets home, for now though, he needs to melt into your arms or else he’ll collapse with his own longing.
He needs a cold pint after all that, and maybe some ibuprofen for his aching muscles. So without wasting any more time as the clean up crew finally arrives at the scene, he opens the portal to home and steps into a kaleidoscope of orange and red lights. Hobie’s fatigued body floats around the colourful tunnel in precise directions until he speeds up abruptly, the kind of speed that could be felt through the neck, a quick snap of momentum that has his limbs flying about.
“What the fuck?!” Getting a glimpse of his watch, he sees it flicker in and out, colours inverting, gears buzzing and the screen turning to black. That can’t be good.
Suddenly freezing in mid air, the tunnel shifts backwards as if someone pressed rewind on a remote control. His body floats aimlessly in zero gravity for a moment, until the tunnel turns again. He’s then flung about, back and forth and then around and around like he’s being blended into a smoothie. The G force was enough to make his neck hurt, jaw tightening as he flexes his muscles when he sees the light at the end of the tunnel. He braces for impact.
He thanks all his spidey experience for handling the rough landing. Rolling onto the familiar wooden floor, a tactical roll over the couch that has his muscles throbbing even more, he finally falls on solid ground, limbs limping and relaxing when he’s face to face with the houseboat’s ceiling, complete with the chipping eggshell paint, and some plastic glow in the dark stars. Wait, he doesn’t remember putting those up.
“Love?” Calling for you on instinct, he keeps his gaze up on the ceiling as he feels the tiredness creep up on him. “I think ‘m goin’ to sleep ‘ere.”
“You’ll catch your death there, big man.” His own voice answers back at him, tone strikingly similar to a light southern drawl.
Hobie’s head immediately lifts up as he stares at the source of the voice. His eyes widens at the leather cowboy standing by his feet with a glass of whiskey in hand. As if having a cowboy inside his living room wasn’t enough, the said visitor sports his own face, complete with his signature nonchalant expression. Despite the obviously different style, he has a very noticeable scar across his neck.
“What the fuck?” You’re the first thing that pops in his mind, are you okay? Where the fuck are you? “Where—?!”
“I didn't know we ‘ave a new member, old man.” The sound of footfalls has both Hobies turning to look, where a sharply dressed version of him sits on his armchair with his leg casually thrown over his thigh. This Hobie smirks at shocked Hobie’s raised brow, knowing damn well that he’d never wear something as claustrophobic as a navy blue suit. He has more questions when he sees blood splattered across his dress shirt, and a holstered gun peeking underneath his coat. “I think we got a live one ‘ere.” Smirking, he swishes his martini casually.
“What’s happenin’? Why the fuck are you all in my house?! And where’s—?”
“I thought I was smarter than this.” Another Hobie says, casually leaning against the wall as he wears an almost exact same spider suit as him. Except that he wears a different leather vest that looks like it’s been worn down but well loved that includes a very obvious cherry patch right atop his heart. “You’re in a different dimension, bruv. Fell through the crevice like Alice, innit?”
Realization flickers in his eyes, groaning, head falling back onto the floor, he grimaces and checks his watch. Sure enough, the screen is buzzing with different streaks of light. The sand definitely did more damage to it than he thought. That’s what he gets for trusting Miguel’s tech instead of using his own.
“Fuck.” Biting the inside of his cheek, the smell of salt and sea breeze suddenly wafts over his nose. When he opens his eyes, he faces a large tricorn hat that hides the face of its wearer. For a moment he thinks that this one doesn’t bear his face, but when the pirate looking man crouches down and smirks, he knows that it’s a variant of him too. “What the fuck are you supposed to be?”
“This one got some fuckin’ lip.” This Hobie’s tone is commanding, like a captain running a tight ship but with all his Hobie-like flare with his silver chains dangling around and leather boots that look well tended to. “Like all of us, I suppose.” Tilting his head, the pirate narrows his eyes at Hobie’s full head of hair. “Am I the only fuckin’ one?”
“What?” Scrunching his nose, his eyes roam around the identical faces. “A pirate me? What’s next, a fucking cryptid version of me?”
“I guess the closest one is a minotaur version of us.” The most similar Hobie to himself says against the mouth of his pint.
“Oi,” the suited Hobie flashes his mismatched eyes. “Don’t forget ‘bout fairy and Vamp over there.” He gestures using his chin towards the kitchen, where two more Hobies stand side by side conversing amongst themselves.
The ethereal looking Hobie clad in green and with sad eyes knits his brows. “For the last time, Smith, ‘m not a fairy.”
“Tomato, tomato.”
“I’ve got no bloody wings.”
The chill velvet clad Hobie clasps the fae’s shoulder. Wine red eyes glowing under the kitchen lights as he swishes a suspicious red liquid inside his glass. “D’you want me to drain him? Jus’ say the word.”
“Alright, you broken souls.” An older Hobie steps up from the bedroom as the other variants stop their banter. He has smile lines around his lips, and crow’s feet around his brown eyes. His long braids have white hair weaved around each braid beautifully, salt and pepper hair that adds to his charm. Hobie could only hope that he’ll age that well. He guesses that he will be. “Welcome to the club, what’s your gimmick, hm?” The man smiles at him, dimples in full display, one that Hobie doesn’t have.
“My gimmick?”
“Aye, what’s so different ‘bout you that separates all of us from the other?” The pirate sits down on the couch with a groan. “Sometimes it’s more obvious.” He gestures around his 1700’s seafaring attire.
“Sometimes it’s not.” The cherry Spider-Man says as he leans away from his post to grab a spring roll from the dinner table. Suddenly Hobie’s feeling a lot hungrier than before. “I had a will they won’t they with my childhood best mate. My Y/N and I are together now, don’t worry.” He says while chewing.
There’s a sudden sobbing wail coming from the kitchen.
“Look what you’ve done, mate.” The vampire hisses, fangs sharp as he tries to soothe his fae counterpart by patting his back. “You’re bloody callous, I swear kids these days.”
“Can’t imagine bein’ away from my lovie.” Someone in the corner adds, the darkness hides him as Hobie could only see a purple outline around his eyes and form.
“Isn’t your lovie the black cat?” The older Hobie says with a teasing tone before the Hobie in the corner backs away into the dark once again. Shaking his head, the older one seems to be the one in charge, or tries to be as he keeps everyone from biting each other’s heads off. They do say that the ones who are similar to each other are the ones that end up not getting along. “Cowboy Hobie over there is obviously a cowboy—”
“An outlaw.” He corrects, shooting him a finger gun in his direction.
“Sure,” old man Hobie sighs tiredly. “the one in the corner is the prowler version of us from earth-616.”
Hobie looks over his shoulder to stare at the mysterious Prowler hunched in the corner as he hears munching coming from the dark. “How come I’ve never seen you lot at the society?”
“Not all of us got bit by a spider.” Reaching towards him, the silver fox gives him a helping hand. “I avoid the society, and Wallace over there,” he gestures towards the punk Spider-Man with a cherry patch on his vest. “Usually avoids spider variants of himself.”
“So what’s this then, a support group for us?”
“Sort of, we talk, give each other shit and sometimes a helpin’ hand.” The cowboy utters as he fidges with the bandana around his neck. “Shit, we are a support group.”
Once on his feet, Hobie dusts himself off, making sand fall from the crevices of his leather jacket and from his pockets down onto the carpet. The older Hobie raises a brow, russet eyes striking him like a chastising father.
“I’ll clean it up.” Hobie’s immediately looking around for a vacuum.
“Don’t even try to clean, I’ll vacuum it up later before my lovie gets home. Sit, eat, while they fix your watch.”
Shaking his head, locs dangling and charms clinking, he leads Hobie towards the dinner table where various plates of food are laid out, together with a familiar platter of chocolate chip cookies that just screams your recipe.
“My—” checking his wrist, he finds the interdimensional watch gone and in place of it is a blue bracelet that he has seen on visitors at the society. “Shit!”
“Calm down, it’s in good hands.” The prowler version of himself is now sitting on the living room floor together with the cherry Hobie, who are now tinkering with his watch. “What, you don’t trust yourself?”
“I trust myself but I don’t trust you, mate.” Knitting his brows, Hobie finds himself pushed down on the chair as a cold pint is shoved in his grasp.
“We all want you to go home. Trust me, I don’t want you stayin’ ‘ere any longer like these wankers.” The older Hobie says while looking over his shoulder at the cracked open bedroom door.
The dapper Hobie appears by his side at the dinner table, kneading at his shoulders with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Whispering against the shell of his ear like the devil at work. “Say, you have someone, right?”
“Yeah—”
“Oi, fairy, looks like you’re the odd one out again.”
“I will strangle you with my vines!” Vines slither out of his arms angrily, trying to lunge at the teasing Hobie. He’d be successful if not for the vampire holding him down with one hand whilst casually drinking.
“Calm down, Tinkerbell!” The suited Hobie fans the flames.
“That’ll work well in your favour.”
“Pissin’ off a mythical bein’, sounds ‘bout right for us.”
“I once fed a man to a gator.”
“We know, mate. And I bit a man’s throat open, we all have our traumas.”
“You’ll wake up my boy!” The older one steps in between them.
Their conversations fall in Hobie’s deaf ears the second he takes a sip of his beer. The cold drink is a cooling balm against his aching body as he sighs in content. The place might look the same as his home, but their beer definitely tastes better than the one from his world. As he munches on some cookies that are definitely your making, he looks around the houseboat, finding all the walls have empty spaces for picture frames that were clearly taken down based on the lighter shade of wallpaper that is in the shape of a frame.
Everything from the steady oak table and mismatched chairs is surely from his houseboat, but there are tiny details around that says differently. The kitchen cabinets are painted in lime green instead of soft blues that he’s used to. When he peeks inside the cracked open door of the bedroom, it has the same four poster bed, same wallpaper that he remembers you picking, and the same wardrobe. But he definitely doesn’t remember putting a baby crib in there with a homemade mobile circling atop it.
The older Hobie notices his gaze, chuckling and clasping his shoulder with the same comfort as one’s father would. “My youngest, you woke him up when you went through the portal, so be quiet, yeah?”
“You’ve got a kid?” He asks in wonderment. “I thought you were supposed to jus’ be...old?”
“No, well, kind of, I have kids with my girl. Three of the little buggers.” Fixing a plate, he gives him a generous amount of food that has Hobie immediately digging in. “Can’t tell ‘em their names though, or I might change the direction of where you’re headin’”
“What?” He asks mid chew as the father figure hands him a napkin, the others listen in, clearly trying to know the new bloke that managed to stumble upon them. The argument finally calmed enough in favour of listening.
“Y’know, like time travelin’” The other Spider-Man says as he carefully screws open the face of his watch, not elaborating any further even when Hobie’s expression wordlessly asks for it.
“Don’t you mean our kids?” The fae adds, glittering golden eyes flash with mirth.
“Don’t make it weird. I’ve got my limits, mate.” Groaning, dad Hobie shuts the bedroom door fully with an experienced aim with his webshooter.
“I’m hundreds of years old.” The being retorts back.
“You don’t act like it.”
“Wait, wait, do we all have the same bird?” Hobie interrupts the argument before it strikes a flame.
“Aye, we do.” The pirate version of him whips out a piece of parchment from his trousers, unfolding it to reveal an old timey portrait of you.
Hobie’s heart leaps in his chest, from your eyes down to the shape of your face, it’s clearly you.
“I know, that’s my scuttlebutt. ‘m guessin’ that she looks exactly like yours?”
“Aye, I mean, yeah.” Chuckling, he hands the picture back gingerly, as if the paper will crumble in his grasp.
“This one is mine,” vampire Hobie unlocks his phone and shows off his wallpaper of you in a coffin, pretending to be a corpse with a large grin on your pretty face. When Hobie raises a brow, the being clicks his tongue. “What? A thousand year old vampire can still learn technology.”
“It’s not that.”
There’s metal tapping against glass coming from the armchair. “This one’s mine.” The suited Hobie shows off his wedding band. “Is that enough proof?”
“You’re not actually married to her, bruv.” Prowler Hobie mumbles under his breath, fixated on the watch. Even then, he still manages to give him lip. “It’s a fake marriage, remember?”
“I don’t need a reminder, Barney.”
“Alright, enough, we’ve already gone over our time.” Dad Hobie checks his own watch, a plastic one with pink glitters on the watch face. “You two need to finish up before my girls get home. I have to put up the pictures and clean up.”
“No, no, slow down.” Fae Hobie says with a smile.
“Don’t make me throw you back inside your abode.”
“So we all end up with her?” Hobie utters softly amidst the group, a tender smile curling around the corner of his lips, eyes gentle, mirroring the others’ eyes from the mere mention of you. The thought of you being his soulmate crossed his mind a few times, but this supports that theory. You’re the one for him.
“Yeah,” the cowboy tips his hat at him. “Trust me when I say this, no matter the timeline, what universe we’re in, it’s always been her.” The whole room quiets down from his sweetened words, a hush falling around the room. Not a dangerous or awkward pause, but something sweeter and softer as Hobie could see it in their eyes that they’re reminiscing about you. “And it’s bloody amazin’, innit?”
When he doesn’t respond, Vampire Hobie steps forward, smiling softly as his fangs poke out from in between his lips. “Don’t tell me you find it borin’, Hobie.”
“No,” shaking his head, his eyes fall towards the plate of cookies. “I find it comfortin’.”
A grin spreads around the whole room, infectious as they all begin to chuckle. He guesses that they all agree.
“Couldn’t have said it better than myself.” Dad Hobie clasps his shoulder, smiling tenderly as he almost chokes on his words. “So, what’s your story, hm?” Sitting down beside Hobie, the rest follow behind, huddling around him, keen on listening.
“I think it’s less interestin’ than what you lot got goin’ on.”
“Try us.” With waiting gazes, Hobie gladly tells everyone his side of the universe as they all listen intently.
When the food and drinks are all gone, and the story is all finished, his newly fixed watch is done and dusted around his wrist. They stand in front of him, Spy Hobie leans against his fae counterpart, while Vampire Hobie snaps a photo of the newcomer.
“Jus’ like I said, you’re free to come back ‘ere, mate.” The silver fox utters, arms folded in front of him as he gives him a subtle smile. “Only if we have a meetin’ scheduled though. Don’t want you hoppin’ in my dimension while we’re havin’ our family dinner.”
“I won’t barge in next time.” Chortling, Hobie inputs his home dimension, checking it twice before pressing the button. He can’t risk falling into a different world again when he really just wants to come home to you.
“Get home safe, big man.” Fist bumping him, dad Hobie sends him off with an armful of tupperwares filled with food.
As Hobie nods, he can’t wait to tell you about the crazy day he had, especially with the bit of him finding out that you’re his love, and your soulmate in every universe where the two of you exist. As he steps into the glowing portal, the orange hues flicker off the second he gets in. But as the door closes, another opens.
The front door clicks open where you step through the doorway with a raised brow.
“Alright, which one of you is my husband?” You say with a smile, a hand on your hip as you meet with older Hobie’s eyes with a teasing glint.
“I wish I was your husband.” Fae Hobie mumbles under his breath, before getting yanked back by the older one of the group.
“Hi, love.” Older Hobie chuckles nervously while the others find the situation amusing. “The meetin’ kind of got away from us—”
Suddenly, the bathroom door creakily opens, and out comes Hobie with box dyed blonde and chopped hair, together with bright blue eyes.
“What’d I miss?” He says with an american accent.
You back away with a yelp, clutching your imaginary pearls with a shocked expression as if you were whiplashed by his presence. Your surprised hop was enough to have the whole room laughing.
—
“So you’re telling me that you already had dinner?” You ask as you stare at your Hobie like he grew three heads. He smells like your flowery soap, all clean and free of sand. He has a bandage over his cut, courtesy of you.
“Love, I jus’ told you that I met different versions of my self.” Sauntering close, he holds out his arms, embracing you as he cages you in between the kitchen counters and himself. “Including a vampire and a bloody pirate, and you’re more surprised at the fact that I already ate?”
Chin resting atop his clavicle, you flutter your lashes as you pout. “But I made carbonara, it’s your favourite.” Your thumb rubs along his windswept brow. “And we already know that there are different versions of us in other dimensions.”
“Yeah, but there’s a swashbucklin’ version of me out there somewhere.” Squeezing you, Hobie nuzzles the crook of your neck, nose brushing along your jaw line. “And you like vampires and ethereal blokes. They also said that there’s a venom me, can’t imagine meetin’ him.”
“I like you more than dusty old beings.” Cupping his cheek, you gently lift his head up to meet with his pout. “I’m sure that you’re the best out of all of them.” You whisper atop his lips, making him chase the kiss as you lean away with a giggle. Hobie resists the urge to carry you to bed “I’m a bit biased, but I know so.”
“I’ll still eat the carbonara, I made room for it.” He practically whines above your lips.
“You did?” Nosing his cheek, he sighs in content, he’s more tired than he thought he was. “It’s cool by the way, I’m glad you met some new friends at the Hobie tea party.”
“I learned somethin’ new today too, but I’ll tell you later after dinner.” Based on his tender gaze, you have a feeling on what it is, and you resist the urge to usher him to bed just to hear him say the words. Smiling and snorting, Hobie pecks your lips, tasting the pasta sauce on your lips when you most probably taste tested it beforehand. “Maybe you could have some sort of group with your variants.”
“Bold of you to assume that I don’t have one already.” A grin spreads across your lips as Hobie’s eyes widen. “Tell your spy version to man up and just confess to his missus.”
“What the fuck did he do?”
“He already knows.” Sending him a wink, you lean close to kiss his cheek. “I have my own gossip circle too. Please help me with the table, Gwen got the walnut bread I liked.” Hobie’s immediately grabbing the utensils with a lopsided smile.
warnings - none really, super fluffy and adorable :), semi-proof read so i apologize for grammatical errors if there are any! no use of name or y/n, gender-neutral reader!
word count - 2.1k
main masterlist <3
☆ . . . miles morales
I imagine you two already being well-acquainted friends with each other once he realized his feelings for you. For quite some time he had a crush on gwen but now his heart strings are pulling him towards you, so he's struggling when it comes to addressing his feelings.
If you're in the same room as Miles, he will stare. Any conversation that he was having before is long forgotten and all that's on his mind is you.
Miles doesn't need to study, he's one of the top students in school. But he continues to go on study dates with you because he likes being in your presence and sharing his headphones with you while eating yummy pastries.
He has an entire journal dedicated to you. Said journal includes: small journal entries of his day with you, little quotes of the funny/cute things you've said that stuck with him throughout the day, candid drawings of you that he created whenever you two hung out, cute sketches of you and him stargazing or slow-dancing together (and other secret drawings of him saving you as spider-man and cradling your body in his big strong arms but we won't get into that...)
Miles really can't get enough of you. He laughs extra loud at your jokes even if they aren't funny, his heartbeat quickens at the mention of your name, he'll offer you his jacket even if you don't need it, he always smiles when something reminds him of you, he'll share his headphones with you and shyly ask if you and him can make a "study playlist" (he listens to it at night while drawing you), and overall is just madly in love with you.
He wants to be with you more than anything, he's just struggling to find the right time to ask you. <3
"Hey, don't touch that! It's- No! It's not a diary, it's just...secret."
☆ . . . gwen stacy
She's pretty awkward herself. You were assigned to be partners for a project that would play a big part in your final grade, she came off slightly cold and seemed to be annoyed at your presence which made your relationship start off rocky. In reality she was just stressed, juggling her spider duties, getting kicked out of her house, and then school on top of that, it was just a lot. But when you made the effort to plan things and work around her busy schedule (that you didn't really know anything about) she started to become grateful for you.
Your parents welcomed her kindly each time she came over to study and whenever she would leave she was happy with a full belly and a sore face from smiling and laughing with you all night. The project was supposed to be done by the end of the semester but you and gwen were able to finish it the first month you got it. That didn't stop her bi-weekly visits, that then turned weekly, until she was suddenly walking home with you everyday, from and to school.
She likes to compare hands, shoes, and height just to see the difference in sizes. On walks back from school she'll give you a piggyback ride if you ask nicely. She also likes laying her head in your lap, if you run your fingers through her hair she'd be fast-asleep within 5 minutes.
You and her tend to share your oversized clothes together, You always wash her jackets/sweaters after you wear them, which she absolutely loves. She's fallen asleep curled up in your hoodie, inhaling the scent and listening to whatever song you rambled about the previous morning on repeat until she finally asks you to just make her a playlist. Hobie definitely knows about you, only because she slipped up by saying too much.
She enjoys staying over your house during rainy days. She tends to tense up whenever you're watching tv together on your bed and your head falls on her shoulder. During missions in other spider-verses gwen has taken little souvenirs from different worlds and given them to you, she always does it in a nonchalant way as if she wasn't grinning ear to ear on her way back, excited to see how you'd react.
You don't have sleepovers often but when you do they always seem more intimate than your usual hangouts. When you wake up and see gwen flustered on the other side of the bed you never understand why, not knowing that when you were fast asleep she woke up cuddled into you, nuzzling her body into yours.
"I-uhm. I-uh just had a weird dream. Nothing to worry about, heh.."
☆ . . . pavitr prabhakar
It's very obvious he has a crush on you, it might as well be written on his forehead. He follows you around like a lost puppy. He's constantly offering to carry your books, opening doors for you, paying for your snacks, and even giving you hand massages when you've been writing an essay for too long. He's just completely whipped for you and you're not even dating (yet).
You were a transfer student and he was assigned to show you around Mumbai. He found himself getting giddy at your cute reactions to the different sights he took you to. He adored how you were filled with so much curiosity and wonder, the awestruck look in your eyes when you saw the pretty lights at night and just how genuinely excited you seemed to stay and explore Mumbai. Since then, he's been glued to your side.
He's such a gentleman, you can tell he was raised right. Whenever you're talking his full attention is on you, nobody else matters in this moment but you. He'll even get a bit upset if someone cuts you off, ignoring whatever they're saying and urging you to continue. His legs feel wobbly around you, he gets dizzy at the sight of you, and he feels like he's floating whenever you smile at him.
There have been multiple occasions where you've caught him staring at you, depending on how he feels that day he'll either smirk and gently wave or quickly turn away with a blush on his face. He gushes about you to Hobie and Miles all of the time. They know so much about you and they've never even met you.
A true romantic. He buys you a singular flower one week out of the day, always explaining the meaning and where they originate from. (all of them are a variation of romance/love)
He tends to lean into you whenever you speak. More than one person has pointed out that you both tend to mirror each other's actions. He's feigning for your touch more than anything, a simple brush of your shoulders and he's full on putty in your hands.
He won't outright confront you when he figures out you like him, instead he'll invite you on a nightly walk. Taking you up to a rooftop with a gorgeous view, and gently resting his jacket on your shoulders. You'll sit for a while enjoying the scenery before he turns to you and says...
"a person as beautiful as yourself shouldn't wander this world alone.."
☆ . . . hobie brown
What a nightmare. He is constantly teasing and flirting with you. Always doubling over in laughter when he sees you get all flustered and the words you so badly wanna spew at him get stuck in your throat.
I imagine you both to be spider-people, you're a little more stuck-up than he is which is why he likes to tease you so much. Little by little your reactions fueled something deeper in him. He no-longer found himself flirting with you because he liked seeing how aggravated he could get you but because that was his way of approaching you and saying all of the things he wanted to while being able to play it off as a joke.
Besides teasing you relentlessly, he can be really caring and attentive to you when he wants to be. If you're in the medic he'll stop by pretty often to make sure you're okay. The only reason you found out is because you woke up to him fast asleep next to your bedside, feet propped on your bed and his vest laid across his torso like a blanket.
He'll eat the foods on your plate that you don't like. If you fall asleep he'll lay his vest onto your body and even move your position if it looks uncomfortable. If he senses danger before you he'll move you of the way as fast as he possibly can, but if he's not close enough he'll give you a heads up before anyone else. He tends to stare at you sometimes, always smiling gently to himself.
When you two get closer as friends he'll play any song on his guitar if you ask him nicely. He'll even give you lessons if you really want them. Carefully throwing his guitar over your torso, he brings his much larger hands to yours. You can feel his chest against your back, and the waves of his warm breath on your neck as he teaches you how to play. He'll also let you wear his jacket, saying it looks better on you than him. He might let you keep it, only in exchange for one of your jackets. (he sleeps with your jacket on, it makes him feel close to you.)
Hobie often checks up on you during missions, sometimes saying teasing phrases to get you riled up but mostly to make sure you're holding up okay. "you alright there, peaches? you took quite the hit."
Once he finds out you like him, he eases up on the teasing, but he doesn't refrain from dropping subtle hints of his knowingness that you like him. He's just waiting for you to finally say something.
"Yknow, if i ain't know any better i'd say you were doing this 'cause you like me."
☆ . . . miguel o' hara
You worked beside him in Alchemax, the two of you were assigned as partners. At first he didn't care much for you, simply telling you to stay out of his way and that he didn't need any help, but after Lyla practically forced him to be a cordial lab partner and work with you, he started to take a liking towards you. Sadly, it took months for him to tolerate you and even longer for him to like you.
Although he was quite stuck-up and practically seemed on edge most of the time, you were able to break through those confined walls and have a comfortable-playful work relationship with him. Every-time you made a joke or a light quip about his attitude he'd always respond with sarcasm, still not being able to hide the tiny smile that graced his face at your foolish acts.
He always runs his projects by you before submitting them. (and then lyla to triple check) He'll stop by and pick up empanadas from his favorite store, always boasting about how it's the best in Nueva York and you'll never taste anything better. Eventually he brings in a hefty share of empanadas that you two share over lunch time, your conversation flowing naturally without the teasing but with a fluffier feeling flowing through the air.
He pretends to be annoyed when he catches you over-working but he's genuinely worried for you. Always shaking his head in a disapproving way when he finds you fast asleep on your desk, papers scattered, and drool falling past your lips. Quietly scolding you in spanish before throwing his lab coat over your shoulders and organizing your papers neatly.
He tends to act unbothered when you do something that shows you care for him but in reality it makes his heart stutter and his stomach feel all loopy. He hates it because it makes him feel like a middle-schooler when they get their first crush but another part of him absolutely adores it and his main motivation to get up to go to work in the morning is you, although he'll never admit it.
If a co-worker is ever rude to you he will be the first to defend you, not hesitating to get in their face with a nasty scowl painting his features. On Friday's he made it his personal mission to walk you home, you two slowly walk side-by-side, quietly laughing to yourselves as you reminisce on lab accidents and old memories. There's a slight gleam in his eyes when you make it to your apartment door. He turns to you almost hesitantly, before stepping closer to you. He whispers a question, so quiet and soft you almost wouldn't be able to hear it.
"Can I kiss you?"
omg i hope you guys liked it! requests are still open btw and thank you for reading! <3
likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated <33
can i plllllleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaase have a bubbly reader offering miguel a hug (as a joke bc hes grumpy) and he says no at first but later on when hes rlly upset abt whatever he puts his pride in his pocket and asks for one??? i know tht man is touchstarved a good hug might fix him
wait shut up. this is adorable :((
݁ 𓂃 ៸៸៸ a hug? — miguel o’hara + reader: everyone knows that your bubbly nature offers everyone hugs. but no one expected miguel to accept one.
contents : fluff. that’s literally it. maybe a bit of angst. wc 1.5k.
pt one pt two pt three
“and why are you so grumpy?” you slid across the bench, as miguel sat, minding his own business and eating. he doesn’t spare you a glance as you just rested your hands on your elbows, tilting your head with a smile.
“what is she doing?” gwen asks, from her farther seat, next to hobie, pavitr, miles, and (occasionally) peter. they are all staring at you and your bubbly nature.
“ah, let her figure out how antisocial he is.” peter shrugs, adjusting mayday’s spider beanie.
“i think she already knows.” miles says.
“that’s probably why she’s over there. to “cheer” him up.” pav adds.
“good luck with tha’” hobie lightly chuckles, resting back against pav as he swings his legs up, watching what he’d call a “show”.
“you look like you could use a friend.” you say, finally making miguel look at you. his expression was the definition of ‘indifferent’. your smile didn’t fall. “or maybe an acquaintance you can talk to?”
miguel’s expression doesn’t shift. you nod. “imma have you figured out soon…i promise.” your eyes slightly narrow in an inspection of him. then he turns back to his food.
“it’s going well.” pav sarcastically comments back at their table, making hobie scoff.
“you know…” you say, fingers lightly tapping the table. “there’s things that can help with being moody.”
“i’m not moody.”
“ah huh!” you softly cheer. “you spoke. progress.”
miguel looks exasperated as he shuts his eyes. He just wanted to enjoy his empanada.
“but you wanna know what will help?”
“i’m not…moody.” he repeats a little slower, to make sure you heard.
“yeah you are. but it’s okay. cause you wanna know what will help?”
“you clearly want to tell me.” miguel breathes out.
“mhm.” you smile. “a hug.”
miguel shifts his gaze to you, blinking a few times.
from the farther table, the spider gang is still thoroughly invested. “oh shit, he looks annoyed.” miles comments.
“what do think she said?” gwen asks, resting against the table.
“tha’ he looks like a wannabe gangster.” hobie says, now rocking his leg slightly back and forth as he watches.
“a hug would help. it helps me.” you are saying, still staring at miguel, smiling.
miguel clicks his jaw, before he’s standing, muttering to himself.
“let me know!” You call to his leaving form with a chuckle.
;;
later that night miguel is pacing his office, just back from a mission that went terribly. The anomaly got away. and miguel is beating himself up inside. how could he let that happen?
you’re walking down HQ’s hallway, looking for something you had dropped. as you scanned the floor, you hear muttering that reminded you of earlier today. miguel.
you stopped by his slightly cracked open office door. you carefully knock. miguel swings it open, sighing upon seeing you. “now’s not a good time.”
you smile. “don’t worry. i just want to ask if you’ve seen a pen.”
“a pen?” miguel’s brows furrow.
“mhm. i lost it.” you reply. “you look stressed.”
“i’m not—“ he takes a deep breath. “i'm fine. and no I haven’t seen your pen.”
“no worries.” you begin to back away. “let me know if you see it though. it’s got a weird blue design on it.”
miguel’s mind is whirring for some reason, as he finds himself calling for you to stop and turn back around. “did you mean it?” he muttered it so quietly that you almost missed it.
you’re now walking back, eyeing him. “mean what?”
miguel’s tongue pokes out against his cheek, feeling his entire body drenched with exhaust and self pity. and putting his pride away he says “a hug.”
“a hug?” your smile has widened. “i thought you weren’t moody?”
“i’m not. i just— you know what forget I asked.” miguel goes to turn away feeling stupid, but then you’re reaching forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, with a smile.
at first miguel doesn’t know where to place his hands, but you stay put, just resting your body against his, as your cheek slightly squishes up against his shoulder. then miguel slowly—very slowly—wraps his arms around your midriff, and hugs you back.
miguel doesn’t what to admit that his body has instantly relaxed upon feeling yours against his. your hand had begun to softly soothe the top of his back. just drawing in slow circles, that makes his muscles stop their tensing.
and that hug wasn’t the last time it happened.
now miguel would secretly search for you. big on the ‘secret’ part though, because he can’t have anyone else knowing he likes to hug you. no that would cause too many implications and destroy his well thought out ‘in control’ demeanour.
so when he’d find you walking alone—something he noticed you did a lot. and after he’d make sure that you were both in a desolate enough place, he’d softly grab your arm, pulling you somewhere even more desolate before he’s wrapping his arms around you in a much needed hug.
you didn’t mind. hugs had always been your love language with family and friends alike. though you were surprised by how often miguel would now seek you out, just so you could rest your head on his shoulder and draw patterns on his back.
he claimed it was just for relaxation and that you shouldn’t have offered him a hug if you would’ve asked so many questions. so you let him, his own hand having gradually drawn its own patterns on your waist.
he liked hearing and feeling your breathing. your breath by his ear sent almost cleansing shivers through him. and the feel of the rise and fall of your chest against his own made his usually racing heartbeat calm down to match with yours.
he liked the calmness your body gave him. and deep down he knew he now craved it.
;;
you were all in a different universe. gwen, miles, pavitr, hobie, peter, mayday, miguel and you. jess had to take care of another mission so miguel very clearly claimed how he’s stuck with you all, his scowl very present.
it was midway through trying to catch this anomaly when miguel’s gaze gets caught up in a man and his child. and as you stopped, noticing his focused gaze first, you identified the man and child as miguel and his daughter.
you didn’t know much about miguel’s daughter. just that in his universe she had died. and now as miguel watches a variant of himself with a variant of his daughter he can feel his body tensing.
he’s never had the misfortune of seeing variants of his family before. and now really wasn’t the time to dwell and sink deeper into his mind but he just can’t help it.
“is he okay?” whispered miles to peter.
peter shakes his head. “but there’s nothing we can do about it. no one can take him out of episodes like this.”
because everyone could see that inside miguel was fuming, so close to exploding that everyone had almost taken a step back.
you stared at miguel, watching as his chest heaved with a racing heart.
you remember one time he had muttered to you, head in your neck. you weren’t sure if you were actually meant to hear it or not. but he had said how your breathing slowed his breathing. or something along those lines. because after he had said that he had drawn you in tighter, keeping his large hands around your body.
so now you edge closer. and this could be a terrible idea, you realise that. your friends seem to as well.
gwen hisses your name quietly, watching as you edged closer to the ‘beast’ or how everyone else was treating him like.
you all needed miguel to focus to capture this especially dangerous anomaly. you couldn’t have him trapped in his mind teetering on the edge.
so you continued to walk forward, and as everyone stared in shock, you carefully wrapped your hands around his neck in a hug. you did so very lightly, to give him any room for rejection. you were actually waiting for the rejection.
but then, to everyone’s shock, miguel wraps his arms around your waist, just like every other time. and he’s found you fit against him so nicely, it felt so comfortable. your heartbeat was against his now, and the slower tempo made miguel sink into your neck, his arms now engulfing you.
shocked now isn’t a big enough word. because you were hugging miguel. and it wasn’t the ‘you’ part everyone was surprised by. it was the ‘miguel’ part. he was clearly eager to hug you back, and they all watched as miguel practically became putty in your hold.
yes. miguel craved your hugs now. and there was nothing you could do to stop him from bringing you in and keeping you close. you were now his comfort and he a wasn’t going to let that go so easily.
heyyy, idk if your request or open atm but could you write about miles (e-42) sneaking into the readers house at night, to hangout 🤗 nothing nasty LMFAOOO but like a cute lil moment
— 2:00 AM
pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader
contains: fluff, miles being a big baby because yes
summary: miles has a hard time falling asleep when you’re not next to him. wc: 1,205
a/n: i loveee soft 42!miles omfg 😭 also i realized i changed up the plot a little after i’d already written it and came back to find the request, so i hope you still like it <3
Tossing and turning instead of getting a full night’s rest seemed to be the norm for Miles as of late.
He laid on his back with an irked sigh, hands scrubbing down his face as he lightly groaned into them. There was no need for him to check the time, he already had a pretty accurate guess seeing as he’d been checking his phone every twenty minutes when his eyes would spring back open after another failed attempt to fall asleep.
He missed you. That he couldn’t deny. He’d made the mistake of falling asleep with you one night, and he’s found himself suffering through the same old routine ever since. He’d never slept as peacefully as he did than when he was next to you, and his mind craved your presence more than it craved sleep apparently. The both of you could’ve slept on concrete and he still would‘ve sworn it was more comfortable than his own bed.
It was a stupid idea, and had he not been desperate for a solution he would’ve realized that. But there was no one to talk him out of it as he got up from his bed and fished around in his dimly lit room for his jacket and a pair of nike slides, so it looked like he’d be going through with it anyway.
He scribbled a quick note for his mom onto a post-it note, stuck it to the fridge for her to find after her shift and left their apartment without another thought, making sure to lock the door behind him.
Night walks through Brooklyn didn’t scare him, in fact they calmed him. Everything was quieter at this time, slower— and he knew these streets like the back of his hand. And even if he didn’t, he was pretty good with the switchblade he kept in his pocket at all times. Your place was only a few blocks away, and even through the slight haze casted over him from his lack of rest, he was still vigilant as ever.
He climbed the fire escape just three stories up until he got to your window, using both his hands to hoist him over the steel railing, his feet landing on the old metal as quiet as he could make them.
He hoped that you still kept it unlocked for him, that your offer stood firm when you told him he was welcome anytime. He whispered a plea before he curled his fingers under the edge, sighing in relief when the window lifted open, though the unpleasant squealing due to the age of the pane made him wince.
The last thing he wanted to do was wake you, so he only lifted it halfway, ducking down and stepping into your room and out of the cold. He glanced over to see your cheek still smushed against your pillow, your legs probably tucked into the fetal position with the way your blankets were swaddled around you.
He managed to close the window without making a sound, but on his way over to your bed he accidentally bumped into your dresser, causing a bottle of perfume to clatter into the other objects you had up there.
“Fuck—“ he hissed quietly, twin braids following the act of his head whipping in your direction when you stirred.
You weren’t the lightest sleeper, but the noise had been enough to startle you awake. Lifting your head from the pillow, you sat up quickly, eyes adjusting to make out who the hunched figure was. The two of you had said goodnight just a few hours ago, and now here he was, in your room.
”Miles?” There was a slight rasp to your voice.
“Hey, ma…” he responded, hands nervously hovering over the mess he’d unintentionally created. He fixed it to the best of his ability, but it definitely wasn’t the way you had it before.
You reached over and turned your clock towards you, the bright white numbers making you screw an eye shut.
“Miles, baby, it’s two am in the morning,” you grumbled sleepily, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands and yawning. “What are you doing here? Did something happen?”
Blinking the sleep from your sight, you took in his slightly slouched disposition. He looked exhausted, annoyance from his sleepless night evident in the way he sighed.
”Nah, nah,” he shifted from foot to foot, hand hesitantly raising to scratch his head. His idea seemed sensible at first. He was willing to do anything to get some shut eye, and to see you again, but now he just felt silly for waking you up for no good reason.
“Nothing happened, but I—I couldn’t sleep for shit. So I just thought—“ he rubbed his brow and gave a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know, it’s stupid. I wasn’t thinkin’ straight and I just wanna be laid up with you. I really didn’t mean to wake you up and I can leave if—“
“It’s okay! It’s okay,” you cut his rambling short and opened up your blankets, scooting over to make room for him. “Come on.” Even in your drowsy state you could tell he was getting flustered trying to explain himself.
“Oh thank God,” he said beneath a breath as he shuffled his jacket and shoes off, eagerly slipping into your bed beside you.
You shifted back onto your side like you were before and pulled the blankets over the both of you, his arm instantly slinking around your waist to pull your body into his, your back against his chest.
“I love you so much.” he sighed tiredly.
He buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath in through his nose just as your hand came up behind you to caress the top of his head. His behavior made it seem as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks; like he was trying to refresh his mind of every aspect of you.
“I love you too… Miles, are you sure you’re alright?” you asked, not yet all the way convinced.
“Mhm. Just needed to be with you.” he hummed, his words muffled as he pulled you closer.
“What about your mom? I don’t want her to be worried.”
He grunted at that, his response slurred and barely audible. “She know where I’m at.”
His fingers slipped under the waistband of your cotton sleep-shorts, hand traveling to the round of your lower stomach and resting over it. Why guys were so obsessed with the extra weight girls held there was still an anomaly to you. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, but he always threw a fit if you didn’t let him hold you like that so you allowed it.
“Goodnight, Miles.” You murmured into the stillness of your room.
Your eyes opened after receiving no response from him, and you were barely able to turn your head to look over your shoulder since his own was occupying the space there.
“Miles?” you questioned gently.
Your answer came in the form of faint snores and slowed breathing from the boy who was knocked out behind you, a smile inching onto your lips at how quickly he dozed off. You let your eyes flutter to a close, ready to fall asleep again, but this time in the arms of your favorite person.
His warmth finally returning to your back, and his arms preventing it from escaping. The sleepy huff that escapes his mouth, buried deep into your skin as he nuzzles into the back of your neck. It is a gentle reminder of all the love that is thrust back into action the moment his foot walks through the door, no longer idle and impatiently waiting.
It excuses the silent fit you have as you wake up in the middle of the night, bed mostly taken by his large frame, and your limbs prickled with chill from having the blankets stolen in all of his moving. In these moments, you can not help but turn to face him to observe the calm he so rarely expresses outside of your shared home. It is difficult to prevent yourself from tracing the way it morphs his face. Your fingers ghost over the bridge of his nose, running down like a raindrop until they meet his jaw. Or the sporadic firework of kisses left over his face, covering the skin your fingers were too scared to touch.
He usually hums, arms tightening around you and slightly forcing you to find your former position to escape the pressure it places on your twisted body. If he is conscious enough, his mouth will leave kisses of his own to your neck, traveling to your shoulder if it does not require him to bend his head too much. Or in the moments that your soft loving has managed to wake him, his hands will slide between your legs, finding a stable grip on your thigh until you have decided if you have enough energy to push further.
But these are the mornings you miss when he is gone, and happy to repeat again and again when he is here.
-pairing: basketball player!e42 miles x fem!black!reader
-genre: fluff
-summary: What it’s like to date Visions Academy’s most prominent basketball player.
a/n: After I wrote my fic “He's got a whole fan club” this came into mind. Like cmon, earth 42 miles would totally be a hooper. Also, this is my first time doing headcannons, kinda scared.
a/n 2: For the people who have requested, I haven’t forgotten about you.
MILES MORALES who asks you to braid his hair for him, the day before a game.
MILES MORALES who sneaks you into the locker room just to get some extra time with you.
"I'm going to get in trouble."
"Ma chill, the boys aren't even here."
"But-"
"No buts, I wanna spend some time with my girl before I whoop some niggas asses on the court."
MILES MORALES who gets upset if he sees other guys/players approach you at his game.
“What did he say to you baby?”
“He just wanted his water bottle that was beside me.”
“Nah, he was tryin’ start something with you.”
MILES MORALES who will go all out and play more aggressively if he knows you'll be there.
MILES MORALES who lets you know if he's at practice so you don't think he's ignoring your texts and calls.
MILES MORALES who makes a shot and says “this one’s for my girl” which most of the time goes in. However, if he misses, his whole team will clown/tease him for it.
“How you gon’ airball in front of y/n man? Straight embarrassing.”
“Nigga shut up, I had that on lock.”
“Clearly you didn't.”
MILES MORALES who wears a bracelet with your initials on it when he plays, claims it gives him good luck.
MILES MORALES who barely uses his social media but when he does, it's only to post you and his basketball highlights.
MILES MORALES who will reassure you that he is fully and utterly committed to you if you start to feel jealous or annoyed at the amount of female attention he was getting.
“No te preocupes por ellos princesa (don't worry about them princess), you know I only want you.”
Being MILES MORALES girlfriend wasn't easy, a lot of the girls envied or despised you, wishing it was them in your place.
MILES MORALES is never afraid of showing affection towards you in front of a large crowd. This involves kissing, hugging, exchanging small glances and pointing at you when he makes a shot.
MILES MORALES who likes receiving massages to help him unwind and relax after an intense game. Nonetheless, it usually ends in a makeout session due to him not being able to resist you.
“I thought you wanted a massage.”
“I did but it aint' enough.”
“So what is?”
“Kissing you mami.”
MILES MORALES can be a sore loser if he doesn't win a game. If his team gets defeated, he will most likely go see you straight after because you're the only person that can properly comfort him.
MILES MORALES who likes to take you to the basketball court late at night. Instead of a traditional dinner or movie date, you often find yourselves shooting hoops or playing one-on-one games together.
MILES MORALES who likes to talk/think about the future with you.
“When I make it pro, you don't gotta worry bout a thing anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m gonna take care of you baby. Anything you want, it's yours.”
