a/n: had to work out some details w this one sorry it took longer! i really couldn’t get my head wrapped around like a fantasy setting for this so it’s kind of different. i hope it’s ok!
~
Miles is different from the others. He knows that. He’s an anomaly— that’s what he’s been told for as long as he can remember. He knows that he has to stay here, in this place, because if he doesn’t the entire thread of the universe could start to unravel.
People would die. So he stays put.
Hobie is different from the others. He’s more stubborn, more curious, and far less likely to follow orders. So when he hears a rumor about a boy in a tower, well, it’s only second nature to want to find out the truth for himself.
The gravity-defying, sleek structure that sits in the center of Nueva York is a mystery to most onlookers. Rumors of twisting elevators, endless hallways, and secret rooms pass in hushed whispers between lips — and Hobie knows they’re all true.
He’s sneaking through those very halls now, sticking to the shadows, keeping his head down. Being here is supposed to be a privilege, an honor, a tribute to his abilities. It’s all bullshit. He just needs to prove it.
In the outside world, talks about what they really do at the facility are common. Speculations, accusations, doubts — Hobie often spearheads such conversations himself. There’s something undeniably suspicious about conducting and preserving the events of the entire multiverse based on the theories of one man.
Hobie was never meant to overhear the high-spirited A.I. talking to the leader of the operation. He was never meant to hack into the security archives and pinpoint the exact location they spoke of— and he most certainly was never supposed to make his way there. Still, the heavy echo of his boots reverberates as he makes his way down the empty hall.
Deep within the confines of the building that houses the society, Hobie comes to a vast, empty room. Automatic lights click on when he enters, making him squint at the sight before him. A strange metallic structure juts abruptly from the floor, rising high into the air and doming at the top.
It’s a tower.
Of all the outlandish rumors he heard, Hobie had hoped this one was a myth.
—
Fuck. His head hurts. Hobie slowly regains consciousness, starting to move his hand to feel what must be a massive lump forming on his forehead — only to realize that he can’t. He’s tied to a chair and his web-shooters are gone.
Panic doesn’t have a chance to set in before his spider sense — which has decided to work now — goes off, and a figure emerges from the shadows.
A boy, apprehensive and wielding a frying pan glowers at Hobie from across the room.
“Who are you?” He asks, “And how did you find me?”
—
Miles needed convincing. It’s not easy to leave a place when you’re told the entire multiverse could collapse and it would be your fault— but Miles wants to go.
Hobie is convincing. He tells Miles in his silly accent about what’s really out there. About the experiences Miles can still have— he wants Miles to come with him.
Sneaking out of the facility is no easy task. Hobie almost wonders if it was worth it, if he did the right thing — but when they stumble into one of the few spots left in Nueva York where nature thrives, Miles smiles.
And in that brief moment, Hobie knows.
Send an army, let the entire multiverse collapse — he’ll be by Miles’ side.
drabble request u say??? mayhaps a punkflower cuddle sesh??
If it was strange for four people to have the same love language, Miles and his friends were complete anomalies. They’re always touching in some way— secret handshakes, hugs, entwined fingers, or sitting side-by-side like he and Hobie are now. So Miles doesn’t really think much of it when Hobie swings his legs up over his own.
They’re watching some movie, or rather, a movie is playing while Miles tries to beat his high score on subway surfer and Hobie takes intermittent naps. Miles thinks Hobie is just stretching out, that he’ll settle back down into a comfortable position and drift off again like he has many times before— but Hobie isn’t so easily appeased.
Hobie stretches out again, lifting his legs and then dropping them back down on Miles’—waiting for a reaction. When he doesn’t get one he huffs, flipping himself over and reangling his long limbs until his head is in Miles’ lap, watching him tap away at his phone.
Hobie can’t see the amused smile that works its way onto Miles’ face.
After a few more moments of silence, Hobie makes a noise of discontent. He’s bored and tired and tired of being ignored, although he would never beg for attention (no matter how badly he wants it). Instead, he slips his hand up into Miles’, effectively forcing him drop his phone.
“Hey-“ Miles’ starts to protest, although he doesn’t put up much of a fight when Hobie’s fingers interlock with his and he readjusts again. Hobie joins him on the L-sectional, forcing himself between Miles and the arm of the couch, tucking himself in the gap like it was made for him. He’s much more content now that he’s a tangled mess around Miles, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he closes his eyes again.
Miles isn’t one to deny him this, equally content as he relaxes back into the cushions.
Illuminated by the blue light of the TV, the two boys fall asleep in each others arms— lulled to sleep by the soft sound of the other’s heartbeat.
hi !! i came from ao3 and as a drabble request maybe you can do hobie meeting miles’ friends (e.g. ganke or maybe some ocs)
love ur work 🫶🏽
Miles spends most of his weekends with Hobie.
And lunch periods.
And patrols after school.
And evenings.
And– well, you get the point.
Still, despite the easy way they fell into each other’s lives, Miles’ worlds remain mostly separate.
His parents have met Hobie, that’s at least one secret Miles no longer has to keep. He brings Hobie to most of his family’s parties as a plus one, and his mother always sets an extra place at the dinner table for him – Miles doesn’t even have to ask anymore. But it’s more than that.
Hobie himself is his own world to Miles.
There’s home, and then there’s Hobie. There’s hero work, and there’s Hobie. There’s school, and still, there’s Hobie.
In all of the challenges Miles must face, through the dangers that each day brings, and despite all of the lies and alibis he has to create— Hobie is there. Tethering him to the things that really matter, to the person he really is.
But when Hobie comes crashing in through his dorm window, words collide.
Miles’ friends at school have known something is up. Especially Ganke, who sees his roommate even less than usual. For the most part, Ganke assumes it’s spider-related extracurricular activities— but he’s pretty sure fighting crime doesn’t make you smile at your phone and kick your feet.
Or sneak out of the dorms after hours.
Or doodle hearts on everything.
Or— well, you get the point.
Regardless of the telltale signs, he’s busy with his own interests. If Miles has something he wants to tell him, Ganke knows he’ll say it when he’s ready.
That’s how he thought it would play out, anyway.
Ganke is used to the window of their dorm room being open. Miles is in and out, constantly. Which, really, could be worse. He’d rather have Spider-Man as a roommate than half the other kids at this school— only it’s not the Spider-Man he’s expecting that swings in.
Hobie’s boots land heavily on the hardwood flooring, making Ganke cringe. The kids in the dorm room below already hate them, and this has surely guaranteed that another passive aggressive note will be slipped under the door in the near future. Ganke shakes his head, he can deal with that at another time, he has more pressing matters at hand.
The boy in front of him seems restless— agitated— but not dangerous. His head snaps as he looks around, the lenses of his mask narrowed as he searches for... something.
Ganke doesn’t exactly have training for a situation like this. He stays standing near the outskirts of the room, unsure.
“Uh, can I help yo-”
“I’m looking for Miles.”
Ganke has to blink several times to maintain his composure. The silence does nothing to curb Hobie’s distress.
“Sorry, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting the accent. Wow. You are super cool though.”
The lenses of the mask stay narrowed. Hobie knows Ganke. He recognizes him from pictures and stories that Miles tells about their antics, so he knows Ganke is aware of Miles’ alter ego— he’s just not grasping the urgency of the situation.
“Listen, alright?” Hobie says, not bothering to hide the slight edge that cuts through his voice, “Miles went out last night to fight a bad guy — a really bad guy — and no one’s been able to get ‘hold of him since. He should be here. Do you know where he is?”
Ganke shrugs slightly, trying to feign apathy.
“I don’t really keep track. I’m not really his ‘guy in the chair,’ y’know?”
It’s not his finest moment. He can tell Hobie is frowning even with the mask obscuring his face.
Ganke has to physically place himself between Hobie and the door to stop him from storming out. He might not be Miles’ “guy in the chair,” but letting a superhero from another dimension walk through the halls of their private school seems like a really bad idea— especially when said superhero seems amped up enough to go through hell and back for Miles. It doesn’t really seem like a good headspace to be thinking through any decisions.
“He’s fine, okay?” Ganke tells him, “he was here this morning!”
Hobie stills, waiting for him to elaborate.
“I think he’s got class,” Ganke explains, eyes darting to the clock on the wall, “he should be coming back soon if you…want to…wait.”
He can’t really take back the words once he’s said them, but he has no idea how he’s going to keep the protective vigilante distracted until Miles gets back. Hobie seems skeptical, he hesitates, and Ganke thinks that he won’t even take him up on the offer— and then he sighs, pulling off his mask and relenting.
Before Ganke can stop himself, the words are out of his mouth.
“How are you even cooler under your mask?” He asks. It must’ve been the right thing to say, since despite his worry, Hobie cracks a smile.
“I was this cool the whole time.”
—
Every part of Miles is sore. All he wants to do is lay down and never think about bad guys or biochemistry or both ever again.
He thinks he did okay on the test, passed it at least, but he could’ve done better if he had slept at all or could hold his pencil without his bruised knuckles aching. To say he’d gotten a little beaten up was an understatement. He can’t even message his friends to complain about it because his phone snapped clean in half during the fight. God, his parents are going to kill him.
He turns the key to his dorm, pushing it open, but stopping dead in his tracks at the scene in front of him.
Ganke is sitting on the top bunk— it’s Miles’ bed but it’s not that unusual for him to be up there. What is unusual is that Hobie is sitting beside him, perched on the metal bed rail with a video game controller clutched in his hands— tapping away while Ganke cheers him on loudly.
Miles puts his bag on the ground, kicking the door closed behind him.
“So, uh, what’s going on here?”
The game is immediately forgotten, Hobie discarding the controller as he drops down in a fluid motion to put his arms around Miles.
“I told you he’d be back, see?” Ganke says, peering down at them with a smile that’s a little too smug.
Hobie pulls back from Miles, one of his hands finding Miles’ cheek as he inspects him for visible injuries.
“I’m good, I’m good, I promise.” Miles lets out a breathless laugh, before a realization hits him. “Did you cross dimensions just to check on me?”
“You haven’t been answering messages from anyone.” Hobie says pointedly.
“I know, my phone broke when-”
Ganke leans forward, interrupting the moment.
“Miles, you didn’t tell me the person you’re dating is so cool! I can’t believe you didn’t bring him around sooner!”
Neither of them can hide the red that colors their cheeks.
“Yeah, well,” Miles shrugs, “I guess he is pretty cool.”
Well, Captain might be too generous of a word. Captain implies an earned rank, a position of power— not someone who stole his ship from an unsuspecting bureaucrat, who’s crew gave him the title in irony— but either way, the SS Anarchy is under the command of Captain Hobie Brown.
She’s held together by nails and rope— and worse— by a band of teenage runaways with a knack for getting into trouble. It’s a wonder that the ship is still afloat, let alone careening across a turbulent sea as she is now.
A heavy storm is brewing in the clouds overhead, but still the naval ships are hot in pursuit, undeterred by the worsening weather.
“Gwen,“ Hobie shouts over the sound of waves crashing, “Tell me you’ve got good news!”
His first mate peers down at him from the top of the lookout tower, her face grim.
“I didn’t want to alarm anyone,” she says barely audible above the wind, “but things are definitely not going in our favor right now!”
It’s the understatement of the century. Some sort of…vortex, a whirlpool, has started to form in the water in front of the ship— pulling them towards an inevitable, watery, grave.
“Gwendy!” He shouts back, “if we survive this, you’re fired.” It’s an empty threat, none of them actually have jobs or assigned roles, but this doesn’t stop Gwen from her dry response.
“Aye, aye captain!”
There’s nothing he can do. No order he can give, no enemy to distract, no trick he can use to get them out of this. So Hobie grits his teeth and gives his crew one final piece of advice.
“Everyone, hang on to something!”
——
Hobie shouldn’t have survived. In fact, he’s not convinced he did survive. He can remember the water rising up around him, the crack of the hull as she split, something hitting him on the head— and then darkness. He remembers darkness but also, bizarrely, a flash of yellow— hazy in his memory but still present. No, there’s no way he survived. Yet, here he is— sputtering and coughing on a beach.
His eyes have to adjust as he sits up, and even after, he has to blink several times to make sure they’re working properly. What he sees only confirms his theories. There’s no way he survived— because what he’s looking at is impossible.
Carefully perched upon a rock a few feet from the shore, blinking back at Hobie curiously— is his savior. A boy around his age, dark-skinned with sun-freckled cheeks. Golden scales dapple his entire body, matching the ones that extend down his torso into a long tail. A living myth, a legend— and above all —the most beautiful creature Hobie has ever seen.
Tags: Summer romance, Black boys being in love, mostly fluff, hurt/comfort, canon divergence
Warnings: Language (?), Spoilers for ATSV
Summary:
Hobie bets Gwen that he can get Miles to kiss him first, but he isn't planning on winning
OR
The lamp-posts bathe the street in a warm yellow light, and two boys laugh together in the glow.
Edit: AO3 is back up and running, enjoy!
AO3 LINK
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
PLAYLIST LINK
google doc link:
NOTE: This fic was originally formatted and posted for a03, since servers are were down i just made this link on request. lots of formatting (italics, paragraph breaks, etc) did Not transfer over!! i recommend reading it on the link to a03 but i’ll leave this for those who prefer it. if you are on mobile you have to select reader view (typically in the top right of your device) or else the formatting is illegible
Boy Kisser Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/48006253. Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archiv
↓↓ some quick twins au for the birthday boys!!! ↓↓
If there’s anything Milo Morales hates, it’s spiders. So when a certain mask-wearing idiot crashes through the window of the room that he shares with his brother, he knows he’s fucked.
When Milo gets home from school, his twin is nowhere to be found. He’d expected it, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.
Milo would cover for his brother in a heartbeat, but having to explain to his parents why they hadn’t come home together— having to lie to them at all — well, Miles better have a phenomenal reason to be out on this particular Friday night.
Something about his brother has been off the past few days. Since the death of Spider-Man hit the news, Miles was more anxious than usual. He was hard to reach, and never where he was supposed to be. Milo can only give so many excuses to their teachers, and classmates-- to their parents before they all start to catch on.
But worse, Milo didn’t know there were secrets they couldn’t share with each other.
He thought they told each other everything, that no matter what happened— what either of them said or did — they would have each other's backs.
Nothing was supposed to come between them.
So what had?
Milo punches his pillow, getting the lumps out before he buries his face in the purple sheets.
Seriously, his brother better have the hottest date in the world. That would be the only explanation Milo would accept, but that theory also relies on his twin having any sort of game— so Milo is really out of ideas.
He reaches for his headphones, cranking the volume and squeezing his eyes shut as if the action alone could stop his thoughts from racing.
Milo barely hears the tapping.
It’s light at first— a gentle rapping against the glass window — easily mistaken for the raindrops. But it gets more urgent, insistent– annoyingly offbeat with the music from in his headphones to the point where it's nearly unbearable.
Milo pulls them off his head and sits up, squinting at the window through the darkness.
For a while, he doesn’t see anything. Just the rain splattering against the glass. But his heart is pounding, the hair on his arms is raised.
He knows something is wrong even if he can’t see it.
The window creaks. Fingers slide underneath.
Milo’s hands find the baseball bat he keeps by his bed just as the window starts to slowly open. Slowly. Slowly.
There’s a sharp CRACK of thunder followed by a flash of lightning that illuminates the silhouette of a figure– a person– crawling through the window.
On all fours.
The scream leaves Milo’s mouth just as his brother removes his mask.
–
Their father is at the door in seconds– nearly breaking it off its hinges as he throws it open– only to find his one of his sons lounging nonchalantly on his bed.
Milo blinks up at him.
“Oh, sorry dad. Did you hear that? I was just watching a scary movie. CGI is really crazy these days.” He lets out the start of a laugh, but stops when he sees his father’s eye twitch.
“A scary movie?” Jefferson asks in disbelief, “In a thunderstorm?” He’s not really talking to Milo. He's already walking away– shaking his head and muttering about ‘the youth,’ and ‘losing his damn mind.’
Milo will apologize again later.
For now, he jumps up, shuts the bedroom door, and flicks on the light switch – looking up at the corner of the ceiling where his twin is perched.
Milo doesn’t even know where to begin. His brother is dripping wet from the rain, wearing what looks like a child’s Spider-Man costume, clinging to the ceiling.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He asks.
“I tried to get your attention before I came in–” Miles starts, and then looks at the club Milo had discarded before their dad had come in. “Were you going to hit me with a bat?”
“Was I gonna- Yes! Yes, I was going to hit you with a bat! Get down.”
Miles does. He drops from the ceiling with more grace than he’d shown in his entire life-- spinning around and landing solidly on the ground. This was the same kid who tripped over his own shoelaces every day? The same kid who fell off the wii fit board trying to hula hoop?
“What happened to you?”
“Just promise me you won’t freak out.”
–
Milo does freak out. But he thinks it’s an appropriate amount, given that his own brother is a human spider.
“How big was the spider that bit you? Actually, don’t tell me. Don’t tell me.” Milo shivers.
He stands up, wiping his hands on his jeans as he shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. I don’t know. Maybe we should-” He stops when he sees Miles’ face.
And suddenly it makes sense– why Miles’ hadn’t told him right away.
Because Miles didn’t want Milo to think differently about him. Miles didn’t want his brother to think that he was a freak or a hero.
The last thing Miles needs right now is a brother that doesn't believe in him.
“This still makes more sense than you having a date, actually.”
Milo sighs.
“Okay, okay fine. What can I do to help?"
Miles seems surprised at first-- and then relieved. He grins at him.
Milo might hate spiders, but he loves his brother.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
First two chapters of the new fic im working on are uploaded!
Warnings: Language, talks about death/grief, major spoilers for atsv
Status: Ongoing
Summary:
Miles Morales of Earth-42 is pretty used to weird, unexplainable shit happening to him. For the most part, he handles it— taking the punches as they’re thrown— but nothing could’ve prepared him for the band of interdimensional bug-themed superheroes that keep showing up in his life unannounced.
--
Or, a pesky group of teenagers help Milo Morales see things from a different perspective.
a/n: i was so excited to get this message omg. This one is directly based off of this art work by @bubblypinkfreak !! i love these kids
--
“We’re just going in and out, got it?” Miles Morales of Earth-1610 tells him. “C’mon, are you even listening, man?”
He’s not listening. His eyes are fixed on the portal that appeared in front of him, watching it distort and spin with a burning intensity. If the place they’re headed to can make hundreds of watches that can do this, well, Miles of Earth-42 can’t imagine what other tech they have there. Tech he can use.
“I hear you, I hear you,” he tells his doppelgänger, his mask sliding over his face and distorting his voice. “Let’s do this.”
His first experience with interdimensional travel reveals that it is as strange as it is unpleasant— almost like he’s free-falling, but directionally. He’s not usually one to get queasy, but Miles’ stomach flips with the sensation. He can’t help but be grateful when his feet connect to solid ground.
The group of spandex-wearing teenagers he’s accompanying are unphased, talking in low voices about their big plan—ignoring the way the ground shifts below them— the panel they’re standing on beginning to rise.
Miles isn’t sticky like the rest of them are. When the elevator panel starts to rotate, flipping the group of teenagers upside down, he doesn’t bother trying to hang on. He drops back to the ground below, the shock absorbers in his shoes reducing the worst of the fall, and tries to take in his surroundings.
The place is huge, that’s for sure. There doesn’t seem to be anyone in his immediate vicinity, but getting around unnoticed isn’t going to be easy. His suit is particularly lacking in the spandex department, and even if he were to take his mask off, he happens to share a face with the universe’s most wanted teenager. Plus, the band of spider-delinquents he’s supposed to be with will surely come looking for him when they realize he’s missing. He needs to move quickly—and he needs to move now.
Miles was right about the tech here. Screens beep and buzz down every corridor he turns, holographs appear with no clear point of projection, gravity is casually defied—even the ringing sound of the alarm comes from all around despite there not being a speaker in sight.
Those idiots. Miles presses himself into a corner as a group of Spider-People rush past. He knows he should probably go help his pseudo-team, but the room is clear now, and something catches his eye.
There’s a flash, and a giant metal spider crawls back into its home on the ceiling. Or at least, he hopes it’s a robot. He can’t really tell from here, he needs to get closer.
His mask disengages as he inspects the equipment— he can’t get close to the spider creature— but the scanner itself moves around like it’s…animate. Miles’ curiosity makes him careless. He doesn’t notice she’s there until she’s behind him.
“Let me guess,” She says, her voice clear and amused, unphased by how quickly he whirls around with his claw raised. “You’re Miles, right?”
He stares at her and squints— until she smiles.
He can’t help the way his guard lowers.
“I’m Margo.”
He’s heard that name before. She’s on their side— the “inside man—” as the others had called her. She’s the one keeping an eye on the situation inside of HQ, providing them with the opportunity that let them get here undetected. It hadn’t really mattered to him before, but now that he’s face-to-face with her, it’s no longer something he can ignore.
Just like he can’t ignore the erratic beating of his own heart.
She’s undeterred by his lack of response— or the way his mouth hangs slightly open as she inspects him.
“I like your braids, they look really nice on you.”
God, his mouth is so dry. He has to swallow, trying to push down the red that he can feel rising to his cheeks.
“Also that suit is fire! Did you make it yourself?”
Miles can barely nod, trying to force words out of his mouth with little success. “You gotta show me the sketches for it sometime.”
The alarm changes, getting shriller and more urgent— demanding their attention. She raises an eyebrow at him.
“Lemme guess, that has something to do with you.”
He barely has time to give a sheepish shrug before the large bay doors slide open, a hoard of spider-themed ‘heroes’ push their way through.
Miles sees his opportunity and takes it, sliding his ungloved hand into Margo’s—trying not to think too hard about the way their fingers lock perfectly.
