people are all about "i hate when a reader is obviously an oc" n honestly i don't get it
like other than ppl mis tagging their fics and the fanfiction full blown being x oc in the wrong tag ,the best fanfiction I've ever read was when reader was an oc who the writer just dailed up vagueness over
they have personality,depth,story,a background all that nice stuff that makes the character feel alive
you can only write a character so vague before you end up w a Wattpad y/n yk? you need to sacrifice some aspects of self insert for a good story
and for readers, you don't have to fully become the character or else it ain't x reader, it's okay, you can be allergic to peanuts n have reader have peanuts, you have to put yourself in the characters shoes,makes you live it, makes you enjoy it
edit: this isn't about the reader's physical look,readers shouldn't be described physically at all unless it's a vague and for the sake of the plot
Boyfriend wants more, I am, by law, required to do this. Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar, and Miles Morales [1610] (separate) revealing they're a Spider-Person. Gender-Neutral references to reader, reader never named, 2nd pov.
Hobie Brown
Fascists are dumber than rocks in Hobie's mind. You want to sit pretty while the machine rolls you over? You want to let the big man stick it in you rather than stick it to him? Assholes, losers, idiots, and victims, that's what makes up the form of government he so loudly opposes.
But in their hatred, they have little sparks of thought.
He supposes it only makes sense; he's destroyed a thousand buildings, defeated a thousand 'baddies', and a million plans have not gone through because he hit someone with his guitar; he's enemy number one (apart from free thought).
He should have told you, warned you, given you the chance to walk away from a relationship with Spider-Punk instead of Hobart Larry Brown. But he was scared, scared that you would walk away.
Now he's scared as he sees you crumpled over the chair the assholes had you in - the same assholes now groaning on the floor that he had clawed and beaten through when the announcement blarred through the streets that they may not have gotten the webslinger, but they got someone close to him.
"Hey, hey," he puts a hand on your shoulders, sliding it towards your neck and feeling for a pulse, lifting your head up. "come on, it's... it's all good now, all fixed," he crouches, untying the ropes around your legs as quickly as he can, grinding his teeth together to keep some sort of calm.
You're barely conscious. Blood drips sluggishly from a cut above your brow, and your face is twisted in that half-wince, half-numb expression of someone who's too hurt to even panic anymore.
Hobie's hands shake as he works at the ropes, fingers rough but careful, every knot an insult, every bruise on your skin a personal attack. His thoughts are loud in his head—too loud, and he can’t shut them up. 'This is your fault. Should’ve told them. Should’ve never let them get near this.'
He's not sure what's taking more effort; is it not proclaiming his love for every little inch of your body, or keeping himself from killing the bastards on the floor?
When your legs are free, his hands are shaking too much to untie the ones on your arms, so he just uses whatever anger's in his body to rip them far away enough that he can slip them over your head. He catches your weight as you slump forward, arms hooking under your shoulders to keep you from hitting the ground.
"C'mon, love," he mutters, voice hoarse with fury and fear. "Stay with me, yeah? Don't go all dramatic on me now. Can you hear me?" He murmurs, voice low and tight, fingers brushing hair from your face. There's blood, sweat, and dirt. He can't tell what's yours and what's not. All he knows is that you're breathing, barely, and that's not barely enough for the amount of relief that courses through him in a similar fashion that the venom did from the spider.
He lifts you like it's instinct, like your weight was made to fit in his arms - legs tucked under one arm, back cradled against the other. His guitar, still strapped to his back, creaks as he stands, and he sways for a second, more from rage than from your weight.
He should move. He needs to move.
But you open your eyes. Barely. Just a crack, just enough that he sees the colour of your iris through the swelling. Your mouth tries to move. He leans down, just in case it’s your last words - God, he hopes it’s not.
"H-Hobie...?"
He freezes, wondering if you're just reaching for something familiar in what is surely a scary moment or can actually tell who he is beneath the mask. Then he sighs, lifting the edge of his mask up. "Yeah," he murmurs, leaning down to only be understood by you. "it's me. I got ya, I do, promise," he speaks fast, stumbling over his own words as he presses his back against a window, holding you closer.
The window’s glass groans behind him, rattling in its frame, but Hobie doesn’t care if it shatters, doesn’t care if it cuts into his jacket or ruins the stolen radio clipped to his belt. All he cares about is the slow, sluggish blink of your eyes as you try to focus on him.
"Was gonna tell you," he whispers. "Planned it, even. Whole speech. Was gonna be smooth, y'know? Maybe take you real high, a rooftop, the one with the rusted-out billboard and no cameras." He breathes out a sharp, shaky laugh, pressing his forehead to yours for just a second. "Guess I missed the mark."
You exhale something between a breath and a hum - maybe you’re trying to laugh, maybe it's just pain. Either way, your hand twitches against his chest, fingers catching on the edge of his jacket.
"I'm Spider-Punk,” he says quietly, the name foreign on his own lips when he says it like that, not shouted with rage or scrawled in a zine his friends hand to him after they've finished reading it. "Been him for a while. Since before I met you. But I’ve never - never wanted someone to know me outside the mask until you." He swallows, jaw clenching so tight it trembles. "And now this."
Outside, the city crackles with static. Sirens in the distance. He can already hear the clatter of boots - cops, maybe, or more of those jackbooted bastards who think uniforms excuse cruelty.
He's got seconds. Maybe a minute.
"Alright, love," he mutters, adjusting his grip on you again. "We're gettin' outta here. No more speeches. No more holding back."
The glass behind him gives under a single hard kick, spider-strength sending it crashing outward. He doesn't wait for the shards to settle before he jumps, holding you tight to his chest, his web-shooter hissing as he fires a line to the next building over. The wind whips through the air, his boots skimming the side of a graffiti-stained brick wall as he swings.
You whimper quietly against his shoulder at the motion. He hears it like a gunshot.
"Just hold on," he says, more to himself than to you, rage curling cold around his heart. "I got you. No one's touchin' you again."
Pavitr Prabhakar
When he realized he fancied you a bit more than a passing crush, he immediately started planning how to confess his identity and love.
Not just a passing comment like, "Hey, bestie, I'm not only head over heels but also throwing myself into danger constantly." Well, he did think about it, but that felt too casual for him.
So, he steels every nerve in his body and sneaks a letter onto your desk just before the class you two share ends (because texting is just not enough for his feelings and he's an overachiever in just about every little thing in his life), ignores the little pool of fear at the bottom of his stomach, gets home and starts rummaging through his room for the bracelet he knows he made last night before passing out and sleeping like he was fighting for his life. He closes his door and throws up his mattress with his new strength - which is so extremely cool, he can lift up just about anything now! - and catches it with one hand before leaning over and grabbing the bracelet.
It’s not the best bracelet, if he's being honest, some of the beads are uneven, and the thread's a little frayed in one corner, but it's handmade. It's his. And that's important to him.
He holds it up to the light like it's a contract, a symbol, a promise in colour and thread. Your favourite colours, a little spider charm nestled in the middle like a secret only the two of you would understand.
Pavitr doesn't do things halfway.
When he sees you the next day, he's got the bracelet stuffed in his pocket and that ridiculous nervous energy that makes him bounce on the balls of his feet like a kid with a sugar high.
He meets you under the neem tree, you both always sit by your shared little spot, away from the main school courtyard, quiet enough to talk without interruption, warm enough to feel like home. There’s sweat on his forehead and determination in his eyes.
You're already there, re-reading the note in your hand; I want to tell you something important. Meet me by the tree before class tomorrow? with a lazy smile.
"Hey," he says, his voice cracking like he hasn’t rehearsed this for weeks.
"Hey."
He can't help but grin. "Hey."
You raise a brow.
He clears his throat. "Sorry," he chuckles, holding his hand out. "ah, may I? I have a gift, and a... few things to say."
You nod, curiosity lighting your features. And even though Pavitr is all jittery nerves under his skin, the way you look at him, like he's already safe, already trusted, it gives him the strength to go on.
He places the bracelet in your hand, carefully, like it might break. "I made it. It's for you. And, uh, before you say anything, it's not perfect, but I wanted it to be yours." Ours, he manages to choke down.
Your fingers close around it slowly, brushing against his. He swears his heart does a somersault.
"Yeah, so… okay." He shifts on his feet, wiping his palms on his pants, his smile trembling at the edges. "Have you ever noticed I disappear a lot? Like, a lot-lot? And sometimes, maybe you hear about a certain superhero who swings around Mumbattan, beating up bad guys and being generally awesome?"
You narrow your eyes at him. He tries not to crack under the pressure.
"That's… me," he blurts, almost too fast. "That's one thing I wanted to say," he looks around, he wants this to be between you two only, meeting your eyes again. "I'm Spider-Man. It's super cool, really, I'm super strong, have amazing reflexes, totally natural muscles," he rants off.
"...and? What's the other thing?"
He blinks. "Woah, okay, surprisingly calm." He mumbles before swallowing. "and I really, really like you." He holds your hand, putting his over yours. "A lot."
You stare at him for a long second - too long, in his opinion - and for the briefest moment, he wonders if he just absolutely ruined everything. Like, scorched-earth, nuclear-level ruined. But then you smile. It’s a small thing at first, tugging at the corners of your mouth, slow and certain, like you were just waiting for him to catch up.
"I kinda figured," you say, thumb brushing over the beads of the bracelet, gently. "Not the Spider-Man thing, that part's wild, but the other thing. The way you look at me sometimes? It's not exactly subtle, Pav."
He groans into his hands. "Nooo, don't say that. I was trying to be mysterious!"
"You were about as mysterious as a neon sign."
"Ugh, brutal."
You laugh, and he peeks at you from between his fingers, a sheepish grin sneaking back onto his face. "But I like you too," you add, soft and sincere. "A lot."
His brain short-circuits.
"You - wait, really?" His voice jumps an octave, and he tries to play it cool, but his feet do this excited little hop before he can stop them. "Like… you're not just saying that to make me feel better, right? Because I already feel pretty good just from you considering it, so if you-"
You cut him off by slipping the bracelet onto your wrist. "Really. You talk a lot when you're nervous, you know that?"
He gapes at you, flushed and glowing and utterly in awe. "I know, I can't stop. It’s like my mouth goes rogue when my heart's freaking out. But!" He shoots up, standing straight. "Yes! Yes," he pumps his fist. "this is so awesome!"
Miles Morales
It starts with the plushie.
You didn’t think it'd be a thing. It's a Spider-Man plushie, it's cute, it's soft, it looks just enough like the red-and-black-suited Spider-Man swinging around Brooklyn to make you grin whenever you see it on your bed.
Miles sees it when he drops by your place after school, tossing his bag onto your desk and flopping onto your bed like he lives there (though mostly because your father's out and can't catch him in your room).
He sees it. He stares at it. He goes quiet.
And then he squints. "Wait... why do you have him on your bed?"
You glance over from where you’re rummaging through your closet. "Spider-Man?"
"That Spider-Man."
Your brow furrows. "The Brooklyn one? Kinda my favourite. He's cool."
Miles opens his mouth. Closes it. "...Cool?"
"Yeah?"
He stares at the plushie like it just insulted his mother. "I mean, he's okay, I guess," he mutters, picking it up with two fingers like it might bite. "bit overrated. Who even knows what he looks like under the mask?"
You give him a look over your shoulder, amused. "I'm guessing he's hot under there. Superheroes usually are."
Miles chokes. Actually, physically chokes. "Hot?"
You nod, smirking a little as you turn back to your closet. "Probably. All those flips and poses? He's gotta be built."
"Okay, wow, wow, first of all, that's crazy, and second of all," he throws the plush back onto the bed like it offended him personally, "I think you’re being weirdly into a guy you don’t even know."
You laugh, raising a brow. "Are you jealous of Spider-Man?"
He freezes. Eyes wide, mouth half-open like he forgot how words work. Then, with a sudden burst of bravado, he points at himself.
"...I am Spider-Man."
You blink.
He nods, like he's trying to convince both of you at the same time. "Like. Actually. Me. I'm Spider-Man." He points his thumb at his chest.
You stare at him for a long second, trying to figure out if this is a joke, or some elaborate bit he's pulling to distract from the fact that he just got jealous of a plushie.
Then he reaches into his backpack, pulls out a red-and-black mask, and tosses it toward you.
The mask lands in your hands, soft fabric and real weight. Real. You look back up. His expression’s more serious now, less defensive, and more… hopeful.
"You're Spider-Man?" you say, a little flatly. He nods again, a bit sheepish now. You squint. "Prove it."
He sighs and lifts himself off the bed - without using the floor. His hand sticks to your ceiling, and he dangles there upside-down, looking way too casual.
"...Okay, fair." You nod.
He drops back down with a quiet thud, rubbing the back of his neck, like he didn't just casually flip gravity the bird. "I was gonna tell you, y'know. Eventually. Just, like… when it was the right time. But then I saw that plushie and thought, man, I'm literally risking my life out here and I'm losing to my own merch."
You bite back a laugh. "You're lucky you're cute."
"Now I'm cute?" He puts a hand to his chest, mock-offended. "Not when I'm saving people, or flipping off buildings, or - what was it? Hot and built?"
"Don't push it, Morales."
He steps closer, suddenly quiet. "I meant it, though. I was gonna tell you. I just… didn't want it to change things. With you."
You look down at the mask again, fingers brushing over the eye-lenses. "It doesn't. Not really."
He exhales, relief bleeding into a crooked smile. "Good. 'Cause the truth is, I don't think I could've kept lying to you much longer. You're the only person I-" He stops. Breathes. "You matter to me. A lot."
"You matter to me. A lot too."
He huffs, rolling his eyes as he reaches for his mask, shoving it back into his backpack.
"Wait," you sit up a little, smiling. "is that why you text like that sometimes?"
"What do you mean, like that?" He laughs, head tilting back.
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
ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ is always absentmindedly playing with it, twirling the loose ends around his finger and shifting it from one wrist to the other throughout the day. He’s stressed, being spiderman isn’t easy, but there’s a comfort that comes with the bracelet. He always smiles when he glances down at the beads spelling out your initials, knowing that once this whole stressful day is over he can finally unwind with you later. It’s a constant reminder to keep pushing.
ʜᴏʙɪᴇ keeps it tied around his wrist tight, lost amongst his many silver bracelets and studded cuffs but the pop of color from the carefully chosen threads stands out. It clashes with the rest of his punk persona but he’s always one to favor handmade gifts, sticking it to capitalism or something. But it’s also the fact it came from you that he can’t help but love it, even at the end of the day when he’s shed the studded jewelry and heavy leather jacket, the bracelet stays on.
ᴘᴀᴠɪᴛʀ treats it like it’s made from solid gold, something to be cherished and worn until the threads have come undone. It’s almost impossible to catch him without the bracelet on, only taking it off when deemed unsafe to wear it. He couldn’t stop talking about it the minute you’d given him the bracelet, quick to interject conversations with other spiders just so he can show off your work with pride. He’s beaming brighter than the sun, there’s something so sweet in how much he adores everything that reminds him of you.
ɢᴡᴇɴ was more nervous than excited at first, the last thing she wanted to do was break something you put the time and effort into making her. She at first hides it in her drum kit where she keeps all other things she loves, too scared to accidentally ruin it. But you reassure her it’s okay, it’s just a simple threaded bracelet. Just cherish it while she has it, she always has you to make another. She wears it more often now, sometimes coming to you under the guise of having you “fix” it but she just wants to see you.
ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ rolls his eyes when you offer him it, but still begrudgingly holds out his arm so you can tie it onto his wrist. He tells you the minute it gets in the way he’ll take it off, but it’s been tied firmly around his wrist for months with no intention of budging. He may act like it’s just a simple bracelet but you’ve seen how his eyes soften whenever he’s toying with it, a gentle smile wavering across his face as he straightens out the letter beads and makes sure no threads are loose.
ɴᴏɪʀ helps you make it, he’s unsure of what colors he’s picking out but likes the ones that are so different in their shades. He trusts you to make him something beautiful, watching intently as you carefully make the bracelet for him. For him, you focus on design rather than color, the knots pulling together into a pretty daisy chain made from the threads. He’s not sure on whether or not the colors were a good choice, but he’s in love with the sweet little design you made him.
with a black cat variant s/o (genderneutral!reader):
miles would be like “no! stealing is wrong! 😤 but they look so cool while doing it tho 😩” his mind would be so confused, because yeah you're stealing, but only from rich people and he heard rumors about black cat helping people on the streets. one day he used his invisibility power to spy on you during one of your heist, he could have stopped you a hundred times that day, but he didn't. he might have developed the tiniest crush on you.
gwen thinks that you're the coolest person alive. yeah stealing is wrong, but she honestly doesn't care at all lol. as long as you're not hurting anyone you can rob as many rich people as you want she won't stop you. sometimes you meet on rooftops at night and often end up teaming up with her to defeat some bad guys, then you watch the sunrise together while chatting about your lives.
pavitr is suspicious of you at first, he understands that you're not a threat to the people he protects but he doesn't treat you like an ally either. he kept his distance from you until the day you saved his life; now he trusts you entirely and he likes to do his night shifts in your company. he knows you won't like it but he's very worried about you and your illegal activity, he'd rather have you doing vigilante work with him.
hobie is a big fan. he heard about you as someone who stole the rich to give to the poor and he was like “slay.” he's the one who came to you during one of your heists and asked you to team up with him. now you, pavitr and hobie want to rob museums to return all the stolen objects to their people. hobie admires you a lot, like gwen, he thinks you're the coolest person he ever met and coming from him, that means a lot.
GUYS I CAN ALREADY SEE THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS FICS COMING IN miguel wants to see you as nothing more than another enemy, he really wants to, but it's such a difficult task when you're helping people with the money of your robberies and you're looking so good while doing it too. he tried to stop you on multiple occasions, but every time he was about to put an end to your crimes something in his mind made him fail. for now you two will keep playing that cat and mouse game, well, cat and spider game, but one day you'll have to kiss him on the mouth, that'll calm him down.
It had been months since he left the Spider Society.
No one stopped you.
No one called you.
No one noticed your absence.
And that was what hurt him the most.
Miles, Gwen, Peter… you fought alongside them, you grew up alongside them. You were always there for them. You were the one who reached out when they fell. But when you fall? Nobody held you.
They didn't say a word.
Not even once did they ask, "How are you?" they didn't ask.
You were always a shadow to them. You were nothing but Miguel's daughter.
But the worst part was that even your father left you behind.
You were one of his blood, but he never loved you. He never cared. He never showed you the same attention he showed Miles, Gwen, and Peter.
And you gave up.
---
You are on the border
Yet you continued the war. Because what else could you do?
There was nothing left to which you were tied. But you had to continue protecting these universes.
Even if it means dying.
Because you knew one day you would die.
When he died, no one would notice.
No one would mourn.
No one would shed tears after you.
And you were starting to get used to the idea.
During a mission, things went wrong.
A universe was on the verge of collapse. You and several Spider-Variants were fighting to save this universe. But the enemy was much stronger than you thought.
You were tired. Your body couldn't take it anymore. But you didn't care. There was no point in living anyway.
Finally, you took a blow. You fell hard to the ground. Your chest was burning and you were having difficulty breathing.
And that moment… you thought it was the end.
But before your eyes closed… someone grabbed you.
Someone took you in his arms.
Someone called you by your name. It was Miguel.
Even with your eyes blurry, you could see the expression on his face. Panic. Fear. Anger.
But mostly… pain.
"Don't close your eyes," he said. His voice was different than usual. He wasn't cold and authoritative as usual. It was broken.
For you.
"Let go," you whispered. "Let me go."
Because you knew. He never wanted you.
He loved Gwen.
She loved Miles.
He cared about Peter.
But he never loved you.
That's why he had to quit. You had no strength to fight anymore.
But Miguel held you even tighter.
"No," he said, gritting his teeth.
And in that moment, you saw the truth behind the anger in his eyes.
Your father didn't love you. He loved you. But he didn't dare show it.
Because he lost his daughter once.
And he couldn't stand to lose you.
"I didn't know how to approach you," said Miguel, his voice shaking. For the first time.
"I… made a mistake once. I lost once. And I couldn't stand losing again."
“Is that why… you always ignored me?”
"Yes."
Something was stuck in your throat. Your eyes were slowly closing.
“But that doesn't mean you love me any less, does it?”
Miguel fell silent. But this time, he answered.
"I have always loved you."
And at that moment… a tear fell from his eyes.
But it was too late.
Because your world has darkened.
And Miguel O'Hara knew he would give anything to never lose you again.
But this time, he might not be able to bring you back.
You were always alone.
You thought your father didn't love you at all. You thought Miles and Gwen didn't care about you. There was no one you were connected to.
But the worst part was that you thought you weren't enough for anyone to love you.
You were Miguel O'Hara's daughter. But he never loved you.
You were Gwen's friend. But he never noticed you.
You fought for Miles. But he never cared about you.
Only Hobie and Pavitr were with him. But neither of them could pull you out of loneliness.
And now, you were bleeding.
The world was getting darker. The warmth was slowly leaving your body. You couldn't move your hands.
But the strange thing is… you didn't care.
You were insignificant anyway, weren't you?
Nobody would notice.
Nobody would mourn.
Nobody would remember you.
But there was Miguel O'Hara, holding you in his arms, as if the world had stopped for him.
---
SHOULD NOT LOSE
"Don't close your eyes," Miguel said. There was an order in his voice, but he was shaking.
You've never heard Miguel O'Hara's voice tremble.
But here it was.
And he was afraid for the first time.
"I told you," you said in a low voice, blood leaking from your lips. “Let me go."
Miguel's face suddenly darkened.
"Don't say that."
But you said it. Because that was the truth, wasn't it?
He didn't love you.
He never wanted you.
You've just been a burden.
You always felt this. And Miguel never denied it.
But now, his eyes were completely shattered.
"If I didn't love you, why am I here now?" Miguel asked. His voice was broken, angry and desperate.
"I don't know," you whispered. “Maybe to make yourself forgiven."
Miguel clenched his jaw. But this time he didn't say anything.
Because you were dying.
And he couldn't stop it.
Miguel O'Hara was always the man in control.
Affordable. Strong. Cold-blooded.
But now? Now it was a wreck.
He had his hands covered in your blood, holding you in his arms. Tightly, as if he knew that if he let you go, he would disappear.
And he knew it.
"Don't let those eyes close," said Miguel. "Don't…"
But his words were shaking.
He looked fragile for the first time.
This is the first time you've seen Miguel O'Hara as a human.
It was so close to crying for you for the first time.
But you smiled. It was light, painful, but real.
"It doesn't matter anymore."
"IMPORTANT!" Miguel shouted, his voice echoing. He was cracked and hopeless.
"You were always important!"
At that moment, for the first time, you saw the truth.
He always loved you. But in the wrong way.
By ignoring. Pretending not to care.
Keeping you away from yourself.
Because he was terrified of losing.
But now? He was really losing you.
And he didn't know how to live with it.
---
TOO LATE
"I'm sorry," said Miguel.
You never expected these words from him.
But here he was, looking like a man who had made the biggest mistake of his life while holding you in his arms.
But was there any point in apologizing anymore?
"I wish… you had said that before," you whispered.
And Miguel felt his own breathing become heavier at that moment.
Because your eyes were closing.
Because he was really losing you.
"No, no, no," Miguel whispered, blinking. He put his hands on your face, as if he could wake you up. It's like everything is a nightmare.
But this wasn't a nightmare.
It was real.
And for the first time in his life, Miguel O'Hara was completely helpless.
Because he was reliving that moment once again.
He was losing his daughter once again in his arms.
request: “hi! okay i love your works and my brains been rotting thinking abt this lol. i was wondering if i could request a black cat variant! reader that somehow (idk how sorry ), she's apart of the spider-society? Given that black cats backstory isn't all that nice, maybe she has a deal W miguel to let her stay if she makes sure she uses her skills to help the society instead of stealing? and how the squad(miles, gwen, pav, hobie) meet her in the society?”
requested by: anon
word count: 2.1k
genre: platonic and chaotic LMAO
Warnings: language, stealing, bad Spanish, slight Gwen crush if you squint but also like not really
A/N: STOP I LOVE WRITING PLATONIC AND CHAOTIC THINGS!! i did change up the prompt a bit as they didn’t meet her in spider society necessarily (even though the did, they just didn’t know it lol) i hope you enjoy this anon! also if anyone wants to knows some of the specific songs that gave me black cat 2099 vibes lemme know 👀 i’ll make a post
pt ii - becoming hobie’s bestie
───────────────────────────────────
Gwen, Miles, Pavitr, and Hobie were called to “the principal’s office” as they started calling it. So here they are, in front of Miguel, waiting to be reprimanded for something they did. “I have a mission for the three of you,” he says, pointing to Miles, Gwen, and Pav. “Hobie, you’re not needed.”
“Like ‘ell I’m not,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. Miguel subtly smiles to himself. Reverse psychology. Works every time.
“Wait, what?” Miles asks, eyes wide. “You aren’t gonna yell at us for existing?” Gwen asks, equally as surprised. Miguel rolls his eyes. “For existing? When have I ever…” he trails off as Pav, Hobie, and Gwen point at Miles.
And Miles points at himself.
“Dios mío,” Miguel mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. I’m not doing that. This time.”
“What’s the mission then? Are we going somewhere new? Oh! Can I bring back a souvenir?” Pavitr asks, excitedly. “No, but I’m sure you’ll end up with some sort of souvenir regardless,” Miguel grumbles, and Hobie raises his eyebrow. “Well, what do you mean by that?” Gwen asks and Miguel types into his computer. A picture of a girl pops up on the screen. “I need you to bring me her.”
“Uhhh what? You want us to bring you a… civilian?” Miles asks, and Miguel nods. “She’ll respond to you all better. You’re the same age,” Miguel says, and they all glance at each other. “Can you not be secretive for like, a couple of seconds? Is she an anomaly?”
“No, Gwen. Just bring her to Spider Society, please. She’s from this universe, so I’m just sending you to where I need you to go,” Miguel says, opening a portal for them to go through. They all glance at each other before Gwen shrugs, walking through the portal. Miles and Pav follow her, and Hobie rolls his eyes following the three of them. They find themselves… at a show? They’re on top of the catwalk in a stadium show, looking down at the audience. “What the hell?” Gwen mumbles and Hobie is intrigued when he sees the instruments on the stage. “Now why did he send us to a concert?” Miles asks, and Pav shrugs. Right at that moment, the lights go down and everyone starts to scream. “So, you think she’s in the crowd? How are we supposed to find someone in all of these people?” Miles asks, and Pav shrugs. “I can do it, easily,” Pav says, and Miles and Gwen give him a Look™. “What?! It’s simple you just look for her face! Miguel showed us a picture of her.”
“Aye, ‘e’s right. Found her,” Hobie says, and they all look at him. He’s pointing, and they follow his finger. “SHE’S THE SINGER?!” Gwen yells as the music starts. “Yeah. Guess we gotta wait for the set to finish,” Hobie says, shrugging and sitting on the catwalk, “Gettin’ a free show outta this shit at least.”
“Oh, please, every show you’ve ever been to has been free,” Gwen says, sitting next to him, taking her mask off. Hobie, Pav, and Miles all follow suit. “What does Miguel want with a singer?”
“I like her outfit,” Pav says, ignoring Miles’ question and sitting next to Gwen. Miles quickly slips between Pav and Gwen, shooing him away slightly. “Not my style. Lyrics ain’t bad,” Hobie says, leaning back and observing the performance, “She can sing, I’ll give ‘er ‘at.”
“I fuck with it. Lyrics speak to me,” Gwen says, and Pav nods. “She seems angry.”
“Yeah, that’s why I can respect what she’s doin’. Threatenin’ and angry music is cool,” Hobie says, bobbing his head up and down. Gwen nods. “Okay, guys, seriously, what does Miguel want with a singer?”
“Maybe she’s a scientist or something? Miguel needs her help?” Gwen suggests, and Miles shakes his head. “Nah, I feel like he’d just meet with her then.”
“He did mention she was close to our age, though. And her songs make it sound like she has an issue with authority,” Pav mentions, and Hobie nods. “I fuck with ‘er.” They all look at him. “Oh, I get it. She’s Hobie’s age,” Gwen says, and Hobie raises his eyebrow. “What does ‘at ‘ave to do with anythin’?”
“You two are the same age, both have a problem with authority… whatever she is, she needs someone she can relate to to actually come with us,” Gwen says, and Hobie nods. “Guess ‘at makes sense.” The four of them continue watching the concert. Even though it isn’t necessarily punk music, Hobie loves the lyrics. And Gwen loves all of the songs because she understands the lyrics more than the other guys. Miles is enjoying it because Gwen is enjoying it, and Pav is enjoying it because other people are enjoying it. However, neither of them would probably listen to this after this mission. When you’re nearing the end, Miles slips his mask back on. “Alright, everyone. What’s the plan?”
“We need to get backstage,” Gwen says, slipping her mask on as well. “‘ave a gander down there,” Hobie says, pointing at some marks on the stage. “What’s that?” Pav asks. “Pyrotechnics. When they go off, we go in,” Hobie says, and they all nod. “Hope they’re big enough that no one sees us,” Gwen mumbles and Hobie scoffs. “Gwendy, it’s a stadium show. It’s ‘bout to be big,” he says. The four of them prepare, running along the catwalk and getting ready to web back to where you would disappear to. Sure enough, the pyrotechnics go off and Hobie was right. They’re big. It gives them the advantage as they slip undetected backstage. They hide high up, watching as you run offstage after your encore. They silently follow you to your dressing room and Miles points at an air vent. Gwen nods, quietly yanking it off of its hinges. She crawls inside, taking a glance to make sure you’re still clothed, and then motions for the boys to follow.
Meanwhile, you’re wiping your makeup off, sipping on some water to soothe your throat from your performance. You walk away from the giant mirror to go grab a snack in the corner of the room when, suddenly, you feel like someone is watching you. You subtly unsheathe your hairbrush, which doubles as a dagger. Just in case. You take a deep breath, turning around, and throwing it. Miles leaps out of the way, and the other three’s eyes are wide. The accuracy with that throw was a little too good. “None of you are Miguel,” you say, on edge still. “Ay, don’t compare me to that bloody bloke. I’d rather die than be called ‘im,” Hobie says, and you give him an amused look. “I can arrange that,” you say, and Gwen clears her throat. “I just wanted to say your concert was like, totally, awesome.”
“Aw, thanks! Did you pay to watch?” you ask and she looks around. “Well uh… I, um—” She gets cut off by your laugh. “I’m kidding. I don’t give a fuck if you didn’t. In fact, I would prefer you didn’t,” you explain. “Oh! Then no. Too cool to pay, you know?” Gwen rambles and Miles turns his head to her, giving her a look that translates into ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ You chuckle. “Why are you four here, then? Señor O’Hara miss me?” you take a bite of the snack you picked, leaning against the wall. “How do you know Miguel?” Pav asks and you snort. “Long story. Oh! He finally find out I took something from him?” you ask, tossing your food to the side and crossing your arms. “I… we actually don’t know. He just said we had to bring you back to—”
“Wait he’s actually inviting me into his super secret spider society?” you ask, a look of excitement spreading across your face. “Uh. Yes?” Miles says, and you squeal. “This is so exciting! My first time being invited, okay, great, hold on,” you say, quickly running off and behind the changing room divider. “Uh… you’re just gonna come with us?” Gwen asks, and you yell a quick ‘yep!’ They all look at each other and shrug. “No offense, sweet’eart, but I thought it woulda been ‘arder to convince ya. Wasn’t aware bein’ invited by a stuck-up wanker like ‘im was all it would take,” Hobie says, and they hear a giggle from behind the screen. “Oh this isn’t my first time in his little fanclub,” you step out from behind the divider, garnishing an all-black catsuit with shiny black gloves coming to claws at the fingers. A small eye mask adorns your face, and you smirk. “It’s just the first time he’ll know I’m there.”
“Holy shit, no way! You’re Black Cat!” Gwen says, and you do a little curtsy. “Pleased to make your acquaintance officially, Gwen Stacy,” you say, and her eyes get big. “How did you know—”
“Like I said. Not my first time there. Surprising since you all have that spidey sense or whatever, but guess I’m just that good,” you say, pulling out a dimension-hopping watch. “When did you—”
“Do I have to say I’ve been to your Spidertopia already again? Come on, I’m sure your pendejo of a boss is waiting for us,” you grin, and Hobie shakes his head. “Not my boss. I like you, though. Gettin’ fuck the establishment vibes,” he says, and you wink at him. “Thanks, Hobie Brown. Appreciate it. Also, Pavitr, you need to tell me what your haircare routine is,” you walk through the portal, and the four of them follow after you. Sure enough, you step out of the portal and stand right in front of Miguel’s desk. “Hello there, Spider-Boy,” you say, and he sighs. “(Y/n). Give me the device back. Now.”
“I’m good, actually. Been having too much fun with it,” you say, placing it on your wrist. He mutters something in Spanish as the four of them appear behind you. “Wait, if you’re Black Cat, why are you like… a superstar?” Miles asks, taking his mask off. “Was told at a young age to never settle for second best. So, I never did. Also if you want to steal from the big leagues, you have to be in with the big leagues,” you say, shrugging. “Damn, she is… so cool,” Gwen whispers. “We have an agreement, (Y/n),” MIguel says and you groan. “Miguel! Big guy, amigo, can I call you that?”
“No.”
“Don’t care, when have I ever stuck with an agreement?” you ask and he frowns. “This is all because you want to be able to come here whenever you want, isn’t it?” he asks and you grin. “You’re so smart, bestie,” you say and he groans. “You’re impossible.”
“I know. So can I come here and not have to worry about multiple spiders biting me all at once?” you ask, and he sighs. “Yes.”
“YE—”
“BUT!”
“Fuck, there’s a but,” you groan, as he continues talking, “No. Stealing.” You feign offense. “What makes you think I would ever steal something from here?” He points to your wrist. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This was gifted to me.”
“By who.”
“Myself.”
“Esta maldita chica,” he mumbles, and you grin. “Well, thank you so much for approving my breaking and entering of your little arachnid club. I’ll be sure to return everything I’ve taken in hopes that you would notice I wanted to be invited,” you grin, and he clenches his jaw. “You step one toe out of line—”
“I woooon’t! Promise! Before I return everything though, I kinda have a heist planned in Earth-42,” you shrug, pulling up a portal. “I’ll tell Miles you said hi, Miles,” you give him a smirk, but before disappearing into the portal, you hear Miguel. “When you’re done come back here. I actually might be able to use you for something.”
You smile at him. “Say less, Spider-Man.” Then, you disappear. “We’re about to see a lot more of her, aren’t we?” Miles asks, and Miguel sighs and nods. “Dude! She is so cool!” Gwen says, and Hobie nods. “She don’t take shit from no one. Respectable.”
“She’s funny! And she was able to shut you down, Miguel, that never happens,” Pav says, laughing a bit. “She seems kinda crazy,” Miles says.”
“What, like we aren’t?” Gwen retaliates and he shrugs. “I am perfectly sane! Most of the time…”
Miguel runs his hand through his hair in frustration as the four of them continue discussing you while walking out of the room.
He was not looking forward to the friendship the five of you were about to form.
