Summary: Emira doesn’t listen to Viney about how to safely ride Puddles. When Viney tries to heal her, she leans that her girlfriend is a lot more sensitive than expected.
AN: Took me long enough, but I finally finished my spiderverse fic! I had such a blast with this one, I hope y'all enjoy! Miles has some serious beef with Miguel & they just need to spend some quality time together!
After defeating The Spot, things started to settle down. The multiverse was ultimately safe, for now at least. And things were actually going pretty well for Miles Morales. After they won, Miguel officially welcomed him into the Spider Society, even giving a tense, begrudging apology. It wasn't much, but it was a start. But now, he was able to see his friends on a semi-regular basis and even picked up a few new tricks of the trade. He buckled down on his classes and managed to pull out an A in Spanish by the end of the year. After months of waiting, he received an acceptance letter in the mail. Of course, his parents threw a huge party to celebrate, bragging to their friends about how smart their son was. As much as it could embarrass him at times, he couldn't be happier that they were so proud of him.
Naturally, there were a few hiccups along the way. The biggest being when he was home alone after a patrol, standing in the kitchen eating straight out of a box of cereal, still in his suit. It was the middle of the afternoon, both of his parents working. He had his headphones on and didn't notice the front door open, and suddenly his father was standing right in front of him, mouth agape as he stared him up and down. It took a long lecture and lots of explaining and apologies on Miles's part, but they understood why he was doing this, and more importantly, why he kept it a secret. His dad even revoked his grounding after he heard the truth!
To top it all off, he was getting called on for missions more frequently, and he found himself spending more time at HQ. He felt needed and accepted among the other spiders, which is more than he could've hoped for. Honestly, Miles doesn't think he's ever been happier. Things were going great for him.
So why the hell was he being so petty to Miguel? Everything worked out fine in the end, yet it still seemed the teen harbored a strong grudge towards him.
Peter B. Parker liked to think of himself as an excellent observer. He also liked to think that he knew the kid pretty well. It seemed like every time Miguel so much as entered the room, his expression went south. He'd go quiet, shrinking in on himself, shooting glares at the man. If the man addressed him, his responses were short and full of sass, if he didn't outright ignore him.
Peter knew where the kid was coming from. Hell, Miguel's scared the crap out of him more than a few times, and the things he said to Miles was out of line. But he apologized for that! It should be water under the bridge, or so Peter thought. It hurt him because he knew Miguel was a good guy, you just had to get to know him. And it seemed that was the last thing Miles wanted to do.
Pavitr, Miles, Gwen and Hobie were sitting around a table playing go fish when Peter and Miguel walked in. Pavitr had pulled out his phone and leaned over to show Miles a video of some guy trying boba for the first time and choking. Right at the funniest part, he glanced up and caught sight of Miguel, the laugh trailing off and smile falling flat. Pavitr was too busy laughing to notice, but stopped when he realized Miles wasn't laughing along.
"Well I thought it was funny," he said quietly, tucking his phone away. Miles snapped out of it and was quick to assure him, "No, it was really funny! Show me again when we're not playing the game."
Miguel snorted as he poured himself some coffee.
Miles furrowed his brows, "What?"
"Oh nothing. Nothing at all," he said as he walked past. Miles rolled his eyes.
"Whatever."
"Can you two at least try to get along?" Peter groaned. Miles shrugged.
"Cool with me. Truce?" Miles held out his hand for him to shake. Miguel stared at him skeptically before walking back over him. His form loomed over Miles where he sat at the table and reached for his extended hand.
At the last second, Miles pulled back, running his hand through his hair. "Sike."
Miguel took a deep breath, visibly holding himself back from lunging at the kid while the others at the table snickered to themselves, Hobie looking the most amused. He turned on his heels, muttering angrily under his breath.
"Work with me here," Peter said exasperatedly, to which Miles gave a smug, satisfied grin. Peter rolled his eyes, following after Miguel.
"Gwen, got any two's?"
"Go fish." She bit her bottom lip as Miles drew a card from the deck, and spoke up. "You know, he's really not a bad guy. Wouldn't kill you to be a little nicer."
"Yeah, well maybe you should tell him that," he sassed.
"She's right y'know," Hobie said. "No one loves stickin' it to the man more than yours truly, but even I know when to give it a rest." He laid down his cards, leveling his gaze at Miles. "He's a prick, but he's damn good. Who knows, you might have more in common than you think," he teased, playfully smacking Miles in the arm before pulling him in a headlock, messing up his hair.
"Alright alright, I get it," he said, shoving him away with a shy smile.
"So you'll be nicer to him?" Gwen asked hopefully.
"I guess, sure."
Turns out, it was a half assed effort. He really did try to be nicer when he was around, but it was obvious he was still afraid of the man, clamming up as soon as he laid eyes on him. And he just happened to be busy every time he was called to go on a mission with him. He was on a mission with Peter when they had to call in backup, and he nearly ran into a billboard when he saw who came to their aid.
Miguel wasn't stupid- he knew the kid didn't like him. But hey, he didn't care about him all that much either. But it made him feel shitty, serving as a grim reminder of what he'd done to him. Peter lessened the tension between them, but Miguel could still sense the lingering fear that enveloped Miles every time he was in his presence, could hear the rapid thumping of his heart any time he drew near. And the way he watched his every move: as if he'd snap at a moment's notice, was more than annoying to say the least.
Miguel had called upon Peter for his input and Miles naturally tagged along. He wasn't exactly subtle with the way he looked him up and down as he spoke, watching with a judging eye. Peter kept cracking jokes to try to lessen the tension, frowning when neither one had so much as chuckled by the fifth attempt. He looked up from the screen and gently smacked Miles in the side.
"What's the matter kid? Don't tell me you're too cool to laugh at my dad jokes."
"Nah, it's just 'cause I'm here. I apparently sap out all his joy when I enter the room," Miguel snapped, not afraid to call it how he saw it.
"W-what? That's not true!" Miles insisted, completely shocked by the abrupt nature of his statement. Peter locked up, unsure of how this would play out.
"Yeah, then what is it? You hate me that much or somethin'?"
Miles thought about his answer before he spoke. A rare occasion, I know. "No, I just... think you're meaner than you have to be... sometimes..." he trailed off, getting quieter as he spoke. He refused to meet his gaze and subconsciously scooted closer to Peter, who watched the exchange and sighed.
"Kid, he's not mean, you're just falling for his schtick."
"Hey!" Miguel interjected but Peter shushed him.
"Miguel's got pretty thick skin, you just gotta get used to him. Once you do, you'll realize he's just a big ol' softie. Like me!"
"I am nothing like you," he deadpanned.
"That's one thing we agree on," Miles scoffed, crossing his arms.
"Are you always such a smart ass?" Miguel asked, hands on his hips.
"Easy, he's just a kid!" Peter said, turning around in the computer chair.
"No, he's a cocky high schooler. You're what, a freshman?"
"Just finished sophomore year actually," Miles corrected.
"Probably took pre-cal," Miguel scoffed.
"Nah, I took that last year," he bragged, a cocky smirk on his face, though his eyes held a look of fear that he couldn't shake. There was a tense moment of silence as they stared at one another.
Miles caught a glimpse of Pavitr walk by the doorway and instantly saw his way out of the situation.
"Pav, hey wait up!" he called and ran out of the room to catch up.
"Miles! How's it goin' dude?" Pavitr's voice rang out and their distant conversation echoed down the hall.
Peter groaned as he stood up and stretched. "Why'd you have to go and start shit?" he asked with a tired look.
"I didn't start it!"
"No, you literally started it!"
Miguel sighed. "You heard him, he thinks I'm mean."
"Then show him you're not," Peter insisted, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. Miguel shrugged him off.
"I don't know if he'd let me at this point," Miguel quipped, leaning against the desk.
Peter looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself short. Miguel furrowed his brows and straightened his posture. "What?"
"Nothing, I just had a stupid idea. You'd probably hate it, forget I said anything," Peter said, setting the bait.
Miguel let out another sigh. "What is it?"
Peter hesitated, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. He hoped Miles would forgive him...
"The kid's crazy ticklish, that's all I'm gonna say," he said, holding his hands up in the air.
"What? What's that got to do with anything?"
"Just show him you know how to cut loose. Let him see you without that stick up your ass," Peter snickered. Miguel shot him an unamused look, reaching out to squeeze his hip in retaliation.
Peter yelped and jumped away, wearing a large grin. He threw an arm around his shoulders and gave him a shake. "That's the spirit! Now go show the kid how fun tickle monster O'Hara can be!" he cheered in encouragement, drawing out
a scoff of disgust from the other man.
"Don't call me that," he demanded, earning a chuckle. He glanced at Peter from the corner of his eye and broke into a smirk. "You're real weird, you know that Parker?"
"Yeah yeah, I get that a lot. But trust me, it'll work," he reassured. Miguel was hesitant.
"How do you know?"
"Just trust me."
Miguel waited until he saw an opportunity, and it didn't take long before one presented itself. Miles was sitting in a beanbag in the corner of an otherwise empty rec room when he waltzed in. "Miles, just the spider I wanted to see," he greeted, sitting on the beanbag next to him. Miles stared at him like he had grown a second head.
"Uh, hi. Wha- what did you wanna talk about?" he stuttered, struggling to sit up straight in the beanbag.
"Peter thinks it'd be a good idea if you got to know me. And I have to agree, so I thought we could play twenty questions. Go ahead, ask anything you want." Miles pondered for a moment before thinking of a question.
"So your fangs... could you like, milk the venom like they do with snakes?" he asked, curiosity and excitement in his tone. Needless to say, the question caught the older man off guard.
"What? No! You can't even milk snakes!"
"Can too! I saw a video where they got venom from a rattlesnake like that! You put gauze or cheese cloth or something over a cup and make them bite it, and they shoot out all this venom," he explained. Miguel considered this for a moment.
"Hm, interesting. I didn't know that." He shifted in the soft chair, getting more comfortable. "I guess it's a possibility. Alright, my turn. What's your favorite food?"
They went back and forth asking questions, and Miguel noticed the way Miles relaxed as the conversation wandered.
"Did you get to do a senior prank when you were in high school?" Miles asked, leaning a bit closer in anticipation for his answer. A mischievous gleam sparkled in Miguel's eyes as a long forgotten memory resurfaced.
"Yeah actually. Oho man, it was a great one. A few of us covered the entire floor in shaving cream. I'm talking classrooms, halls, the cafeteria, bathrooms, even the gym. We broke in during the night so we'd have enough time to do the whole school." He shook his head and chuckled. "Everyone was slipping and sliding all over the place. It took us hours to clean up afterwards, but it was worth it." He couldn't deny the swell of pride he felt when he heard Miles let out a quick huff of laughter.
"That sounds like a good one! I wish I could do something like that."
"Why can't you? Just gotta wait two more years, plenty of time to come up with a good prank."
"No, it's not that. My new school doesn't allow senior pranks and stuff like that," he explained, disappointment etched on his features. "It's... pretty pretentious."
"Hm, that's a real bummer. Maybe you'll have to fix that," Miguel suggested with a playful punch to his shoulder.
"Maybe," he agreed, ideas already bouncing around his head. "Your turn."
"Man, 20 questions is a lot more than I thought," Miguel feigned cluelessness and innocence, as if he didn't have this question lined up from the start. "I got one. Are you ticklish?" he asked casually. It was comical the way Miles snapped his head up to look at him with wide eyes.
"What? No," he said quickly, defensively. He was about to ask the next question to change the subject but was cut off.
"See, now that's funny. That's not what Peter said," he drawled, flashing a smug grin. Miles felt a chill run down his spine. He knew this was fishy from the start, but had ignored his gut feeling. A rookie mistake.
"Heh, good thing you're too mature for that sort of thing, right?" he asked nervously, watching him like a hawk.
"Y'know, I'm not so sure. What do you think?" Miguel asked, a dangerously playful edge to his voice. Miles gulped.
"Was this whole thing just a set up?" he asked, his entire body tense. He was ready to bolt at a moment's notice.
Miguel shrugged. "If that's what you wanna call it, sure."
It only took a second before Miles shot up to make a break for it. Strong arms immediately wrapped around his waist and brought him back down, right into Miguel's lap. He was thrashing and already giggling, yet still managed to grab ahold of Miguel's wrists to keep him at bay.
"Must be pretty ticklish if you're already laughing," he teased, twisting his hands free. He grabbed both of Miles's wrists and raised them over his head.
"Ihihi'm not! Let mehe gohoho!" Miles protested, trying to roll onto the floor.
"Nah. Gotta say, you've made me real curious now. Well, guess I better not keep you waiting!" He wasted no more time and latched onto his side, squeezing and kneading softly. Miles was already lost to a bout of bubbly giggles as he curled in on himself.
"Why ahahare you dohohoing this toho meee?" he squealed, legs scrambling for purchase and finding none.
"To show you I can be fun," he said, as if that should be obvious. "And you really don't know me if you think I'd let this information go to waste."
"Thihihis is fuhuhun?" he asked, sounding incredulous even through his laughter. Miguel couldn't help but smirk.
"See? Glad you agree," he said smugly. Miles let out an annoyed, giggly groan.
"Not whahat Ihihi meant!"
"Really? You gotta choose your words more carefully. Someone could take your words outta context and do this," he emphasized his point by squeezing his hips, causing Miles to jolt in his lap as if he had been electrocuted. "Y'know, since you said you were having fun an' all."
Miles was sure he was going to die. Whether it would be from the tickling or embarrassment, he wasn't sure, but he was going to die.
"Ohoho my gohohod, shut up ahahasshole!"
Miguel froze, hands poised at his sides and ready to strike. "What did you just call me?" Miles breathed in a few gulps of air while he still had the chance. He shook his head, eyes wide with a mix of panic and excitement.
"Nonono I didn't mean that, it just slipped out!" he insisted, but Miguel wasn't having it.
"What did I just say about choosing your words wisely?" he asked. Miles attempted another escape instead of answering, and was caught just as easily as before. "Well if you can call me names, clearly I'm not working hard enough."
He dove for his belly, pulling back at the last second, but Miles still screamed anyways. He felt a warm flush rise to his cheeks, glaring at the man as he laughed. He glared at him and shoved his chest.
"You are being an asshole!" he whined, grabbing his wrists and pushing with all his might to keep them away from his belly.
"And you're really asking for it," Miguel deadpanned, slipping out of his grasp with ease. And just because he felt like messing with the kid a little more, he did another fake out, earning another shriek of anticipation, followed by an embarrassed pout as Miguel let out a hearty chuckle.
"What the hell man? Just get it over with if you're gonna do it!"
"A little eager, eh amigo?" he asked, drumming his fingers against his sides. Bubbly giggles filled the air as Miles folded in on himself like a lawn chair, shaking his head frantically.
"N-no!" Miles denied, twisting from side to side and trying to work his way out of Miguel's strong grasp. He kneaded his sides, immediately thwarting the halfhearted escape. A stream of loud squeals and cackles escaped Miles as he squirmed around like a worm on a hook before curling into a ball in his lap.
He snorted when Miguel reached down to squeeze his knee, kicking his legs out. This granted him free access to his belly, which he took full advantage of. He formed a claw with his hand and dug into the soft pudge around his midsection and giggly shrieks filled the air.
"Wow, you're ticklish just about everywhere," he mused, smirking when Miles whined through his laughter.
"Ihihi ahaham not!" he cried out, legs kicking against the floor. Miguel arched a brow, clearly amused at the reply.
"No? Try proving me wrong then," he teased, pinching up his ribs. Miles arched his back, boyish giggles pouring past his lips.
"Screhehehew you!" he cried through his hysterics.
"Well that's not very nice. And here I thought we were finally bonding," Miguel said in a deadpanned tone, though the sly smirk gave him away.
Without anywhere to turn, Miles yelled out for help. "PEHEHETEHEHER! HELP MEHEHE! I-I'M BEING TORTURED!" he cried out dramatically. Miguel shook his head, an evil chuckle slipping past his lips.
"You know he's not gonna help you, right? I mean, this was all his idea. Practically made me do this," he taunted.
Well that was news to Miles.
"HE WHAT?" he shrieked before falling back into a wild fit of laughter.
"Yup. He sold you out faster than you could say tickle tickle tickle!" he teased, digging his claws into his ribs and shaking them against his ribcage. Miles doubled over with a screech, laughing as he kicked his legs in the air. He reached up to hide behind his hands so he wouldn't have to look at Miguel's stupid, smug face.
Miguel shook his head and grabbed his wrists, pulling them away from his face. "Oh no, no puedes esconderte de mí," Miguel teased. Miles thrashed, growing even more flustered by the playful taunt.
"Oh cohome ohohon!" Miles whined, tugging on his arms.
"Everyone keeps talking about these "bleeding armpits" of yours. Let's see what that's all about, huh?"
"No!" he screamed out, but it was too late because Miguel was already tickling under his arms. Miles slammed his arms down to his sides, trapping his tickling hands in place. He was cackling hysterically, blushing when a few snorts managed to slip out.
"Gehehet out of thehehere!" he pleaded, nose scrunched and mouth open in a wide grin. Miguel hummed in thought, drilling his thumbs in the center of his hollows.
"Mmmm no, I don't think I will," he teased smugly. He was about to comment on how the suit markings are practically a bullseye for what seemed to be his worst spot when a sharp elbow cracked him in the face.
He reeled back, hand clutching his now sore, and apparently bleeding, mouth. Miles rolled off his lap and sprawled on the floor, panting for breath before he noticed Miguel's busted lip.
"O-oh my gosh, did I do that? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-" Miles rambled out an apology, cutting off when Miguel held up a hand to silence him.
"It's fine, it was an accident. Besides, this is nothing," he said smirking and gestured to his bloodied bottom lip. "Honestly it surprised me more than anything," he reassured, not wanting Miles to feel guilty over something so small.
"Still, I didn't mean to hit you in the face," he apologized, paused for a second and seemingly grew a bout of confidence, puffing out his chest. "B-but you were asking for it! Seriously, that's what you get for tickling Spider-Man!"
The retort made Miguel bark out a laugh, ruffling the kid's hair playfully. Miles rolled his eyes and shoved him away, but the smile never left his lips.
"Yeah yeah, it's all my fault. Now run along, go tell your friends how you managed to survive tickle monster O'Hara," he teased. Miles cringed at the nickname and let out a long, suffering groan.
"Don't call yourself that," he said, equal parts whiny and sassy. It only took a stern look from Miguel to have Miles running out of the room. Miguel chuckled to himself, pulling out his phone to take a selfie of his busted lip.
Peter had just sat down in the cafeteria about to chow down on a slice of pizza when he felt his phone buzz. He looked at the screen, noticing a new text from Miguel.
He opened the message, huffing out a laugh when he saw the picture of Miguel's busted lip with the caption, Mission Accomplished.
He tucked his phone back in his pocket, taking a large bite. He wasn't even done chewing when he heard fast paced footsteps skid to a halt behind him.
asjdfhlkashdf okok so it's been a hot minute since I've written fanfiction, but I saw the best idea on @tickles-tea 's page and I wanted to give it a go! :)
(Also I blanked on a title so I just kinda wrote the first thing in my mind lol)
It was irritating, to say the least. For the first time in months, it felt like Miguel had finally been able to sit down and relax for at least 15 minutes. Of course, the moment after the clock struck 8:46 p.m Lyla had notified him of another anomaly wreaking havoc within the holding center. Business as usual.
"So, what you're saying is that they had him *in the room* and he still got loose?" Miguel grumbled, hastily making his way to the location with his wrist held above his chest. Lyla's avatar projected above Miguel's wrist, her hand resting on her bicep as she swiped through a couple screens to bring up a profile and appearance.
"They were very frugal about the exacts, but they said, and I quote 'he was a very slippery criminal'. He's from Earth-57780 with dark hair, a-"
"What, so another 'Slyde' anomaly?" Miguel introjected, his brows furrowing with frustration. Before he could further his musing on the difficulty, Lyla provided further detail as he entered an empty containment sect.
"No, not a Slyde. His name is 'The Tickler'." She corrected, her demeanor lax and unbothered. Miguel paused for a moment, slowing his speed as he attempted to remain perceptive and gather more information.
"You're kidding." He huffed, already knowing the answer was 'no'. "They seriously couldn't grab him? That's gotta easily be one of the easier anomalies all year."
Miguel's irritation was rising as he marched through the room, glancing at empty containment pods and stacks of boxes.
"I wouldn't say that, exactly. Tickling triggers a panic response in your body that makes it hard to focus and can cause a falter in judgment." Lyla stated matter of factly. Miguel snorted dryly, grateful his mask was on to hide the flush rising to his cheeks.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's just get this over with. Has there been any sighting of-" Miguel cut himself off as he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, readying himself to pounce. Lyla took this as a sign to cut her avatar, lowering the light as Miguel crept further. His slow steps made him inaudible before lurching towards where the movement was and-
nothing.
In Miguel's confusion something grabbed him from behind another box, its grip firm as Miguel twisted himself back to throw a punch. The anomaly clung tight, one hand slipping under Miguel's arm and the other wrapped and clutching to his hip for dear life. The Tickler anomaly wrapped his legs around Miguel, situating himself like a backpack before wiggling his fingers.
Miguel's left arm came crashing down to his side as a strangled grunt caught in his throat, coming forth from his crouch to his knees and attempting to use his other hand to grab the man off of his back. Fingers dug into his hips causing Miguel to curl in on himself and unfortunately trap his captor's hands with him.
"Ticklish, big guy?" The anomaly taunted with a pleased chuckle, pressing his fingers in and vibrating as Miguel desperately attempted to contain his reactions.
"Shut up." Miguel growled out, once more trying to push through and lift his left arm to grab the other man's collar while using his other hand to tug at the hand on his hip. He realized his mistake once fingers trailed their way under his arm completely, his body curling in on himself once more and trapping the unrelenting fingers in their movements. Miguel's shoulders shook with the threat of laughter, trying to focus on a way to capture the anomaly. Alas, the task proved itself difficult. The Tickler laughed triumphantly, using the hand on Miguel's hip to scribble over the textured suit material.
"What's wrong? Did I find something?" The villain teased as Miguel choked back giggles. If he could just stop moving his fingers for one moment Miguel could easily flip this guy onto his back and trap him in one of those pods. He felt himself start to lose a bit of control as both hands continued their assault, never once pausing for even a second. Miguel barked out a laugh as a finger pressed under his arm, breaking the dam as he squirmed under the touch.
"Quit it!" Miguel demanded, the hand on his hip migrating to his bottom ribs and clawing lightly. Laughter flooded out of him as he swung his head back to try and at least get one hit in but missing onto the anomaly's shoulder. The move assisted him no further as the hand on his ribs slipped from under his left elbow and held his jaw in place. A surprised yelp jolted from him as he felt the fingers drag over his neck and cause his laughter to raise in volume. Miguel tried bunching up his shoulders in a last attempt to protect himself before he felt something soft flutter behind his ear. The movement was all it took before Miguel curled into a pile of giggles, his face flushed as The Tickler brought out the tool from his gloves. He couldn't focus on *how* the anomaly even got past his suit as he grabbed for any sort of leverage. Between the fingers under his arms and the feather fluttering behind his ear, he was a mess.
"¡Basta, bastardo!" Miguel barked through his laughter. He wasn't very intimidating though, and to his dismay the anomaly pushed him to the ground and managed to pin him on his stomach.
"Sorry pal, I don't speak spanish." The Tickler stated, growing cockier with every growing second. Miguel finally managed to flip over and push him off with his foot, sending him back tumbling into some boxes. He managed to catch his breath a hint before entangling him with a laser web, keeping him still as Miguel continued to draw in heavy breaths.
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" Miguel growled, standing up and leaning against an empty containment pod before opening it and sliding the disk under the anomaly. His face was flushed and to his relief, his mask was still intact, leaving him to wonder how The Tickler got past his technology in the first place. He left, grumbling to himself before Lyla popped up again with a cocky smirk.
"How was that for 'the easiest anomaly all year'?" She teased. Miguel glared at her avatar, avoiding entertaining the playful jab.
"What happened to my suit earlier." The question came out as more of a demand, the AI shrugging her shoulders with a knowing grin.
"Well, I figured I couldn't let it be *too* easy on you. Not to mention you've been talking about how you've been needing to find a reason to relax for a bi-"
"Relax? That was relaxing?" Miguel interrupted, sounding slightly exasperated. However, he couldn't deny that under certain circumstances it could be nice...
"Laughing replaces cortisol with dopamine, oxytocin and endorphins which, in other words, is an excellent stress reliever." Lyla remarked smartly, leaving Miguel to shake his head and scoff.
"Yeah, well... maybe don't have an anomaly do that next time." He huffed.
"I can see if Peter B. Parker would be willing to, he's been begging me to send him any information to get you to 'loosen up'." Lyla offered. Miguel's silence spoke volumes as Lyla already began sending a message. "I'll let him know you're interested." She winked, leaving Miguel as he began to sputter out protests.
"Wait- I didn't..." Miguel trailed off, pausing once he returned to his workspace. Maybe, he thought. Maybe he could accept that.
Merry New Year and Happy Squealing Santa 2023 for @alexielve :D sorry it’s so late😭
Image ID:
A digital illustration depicting Miles Morales, Peter B Parker, and Mayday Parker from Into The SpiderVerse. Miles is suspended upside down from his webs. Peter is on the right, and Mayday is strapped to Peter by a baby carrier. Peter is tickling Miles on the armpit and Mayday on her foot while calling a friend explaining how he is tickling them to “teach them a lesson”. (Not shown) Miles and Mayday were bothering Peter repeatedly for attention so Peter retaliated. Miles is suspended in the air in hysterics trying to apologize to Peter through his laughter. And Mayday is giggling as her father tickles her foot.
Image Caption:
Peter: “Oh yeah don’t mix the kids, had to teach em a lesson.”
"Interesting. Very interesting," Peter B. Parker said, looking between Miles Morales from Earth 1610 and Miles Morales from Earth 42.
"Two sides of the same coin," Pavitr mused.
"Dude, could you not?" 1610 Miles asked.
"Prick," 42 Miles scoffed.
"Hey, be nice to Pav, erm . . . Miles?" Gwen said, looking at both versions of Miles Morales. "We can't call you both Miles."
"Even though you are both Miles," Hobie said. "So, what we callin' you, then?"
"Our Miles is Miles, and the other one is called Kilometres," Peter joked. 42 Miles scoffed.
"I am not answering to Kilometres," 42 Miles scoffed.
"This one's just a ray of sunshine, ain't he?" Hobie remarked, jerking a thumb towards 42 Miles.
"Yeah, you need to lighten up," Peter B. Parker said, poking 42 Miles in the ribs. 42 Miles let out a squeak and stumbled forwards. "You OK, kid?"
"Don't . . . ever . . . touch there," 42 Miles said, glaring at the floor. "It's - it's weird."
1610 Miles snickered. "What, buddy? What's wrong? Did you become so much of an edgelord that you forgot that you could be ticklish?"
"I-I'm not!" 42 Miles snapped, blushing harder.
"You're adorable!" Pavitr cooed. "You're trying your best to be super tough and you're just so cute!"
"You shut up, you - HEY!" 42 Miles' words were cut off by Hobie grabbing him and holding him close.
"'E's got a point, ya know," Hobie said. "Wonder what'd 'appen if . . ." He poked 42 Miles in the ribs, and he giggled. "It worked!" 1610 Miles openly laughed, while 42 Miles looked at his interdimensional counterpart like an angry wet cat.
"Don't be so smug, buddy," Peter said, poking 1610 Miles in the same spot. He jumped and clung to the ceiling. It was 42 Miles' turn to laugh openly.
"So they're both ticklish, eh?" Gwen teased, wriggling her fingers. Behind her, Hobie cracked his knuckles and Pavitr began stretching. 42 Miles and 1610 Miles leaned back in horror.
"We should go," 42 Miles said.
"Yes, we should," 1610 Miles agreed. By the time he even put one foot forward, Pavitr had already wrapped him up in a mess of bangles and webbing. 42 Miles was already hog-tied to Hobie's guitar.
"How did you do that?" Gwen asked, staring at Hobie and 42 Miles.
"Anarchy," Hobie said.
"Put me down!" 42 Miles snapped.
"Nope!" Pavitr said, dragging 1610 Miles and 42 Miles into an empty room full of gadgets.
"What are you even doing?" Peter asked.
"Um . . . running some tests!" Gwen said, as the spider-teens rushed away.
"What sort of tests are you pendejos even running?" 42 Miles asked.
"Well, Miles got bitten by the spider, while Kilometres didn't. I want to see if both of them are still as sensitive as the other one is," Gwen said.
"You're just going to spend all day tickling us both," 42 Miles said.
"Sure, why not?" Hobie said, grabbing at 42 Miles' stomach. The teenage Prowler alternated between cursing in Spanish and squeaking when Hobie's long fingers found a sweet spot. Gwen did the same to 1610 Miles, who was actually laughing.
"It seems the spider bite did make him more ticklish!" Pavitr giggled. "How interesting!"
"MAYBE FOR YOU!" 1610 Miles snapped. Admittedly, it was hard to tell because he was laughing so hard. 42 Miles was too busy holding in his laughter, his cheeks filling with air and giving him the impression of an angry chipmunk with his mouth full.
"This one's stubborn, Pav," Hobie called out. "Wanna help out?"
"Yes!" Pavitr started squeezing 42 Miles' armpits almost experimentally. And 42 Miles exploded.
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" 42 Miles screamed, everything bursting out of him.
"And we have liftoff!" Pavitr celebrated. "Miles is more ticklish, but Kilometres is better at holding it in!"
"DON'T CAHAHAHAHAHAHAHALL ME THAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" 42 Miles laughed.
"Hey, put them down and let 'em go," Peter said. "This is not helping either of them in the slightest."
"Fine," Gwen sighed, signalling to Pavitr to pull 1610 Miles out of the webbing. Hobie started cutting 42 Miles out at the same time.
"Now, send the other Miles home to get some rest," Peter ordered.
"I'll handle it," Hobie said. Just before he pushed 42 Miles through a portal to his universe, he whispered something into the Prowler's ear. 1610 Miles saw a glimpse of a terrified expression before he went through the portal.
"What did you say to him?" 1610 Miles asked, when he was alone with Hobie.
"I told him that if we ever found him messing with any kind of Spidey, we'd bring him back and find every ticklish spot he had," Hobie said casually.
1610 Miles' eyes went wide. "Oh."
"But I'd have to compare them to yours to be safe."
"What are they doing to each other?" Miguel asked.
"Hobie is tickling Miles Morales," Lyla reported.
"Of course that's what they're doing. Are there are earplugs around?"
Summary: Lyla orders Margo go fix a glitching Go-Home-Machine. She tests the machine on herself to figure out what’s wrong with it, because that’s a good idea.
Warnings: Tickle Fic, Light Bondage. Also I’m not really a fan of this fic but oh wellz, I wanted some Lee Margo.
Lyla huffed as another little red circle appeared in her inbox, the sixth one this day. She only needed to read the subject of the notification to see what people were nagging her about this time, and the time before that, and the time before that. “Problem with the Go-Home-Machine”.
It didn’t feel good to have been getting a constant string of complaints about something she helped to create but it couldn’t be helped. Well more accurately, it could be helped, that’s why every Spiderman, woman and everything else in between were bothering her to do something about it. Normally, she would’ve fixed it up but Miguel was going out in the field, so she had to be there to support him. So, Lyla went to the second most logical option.
“Hey Margs,” she announced, popping up on Margo’s desk. She was currently in the operating room for the GHM (that’s Go-Home-Machine) though she had just clocked in for the day and was oblivious to its errors. Margo shrieked as Lyla appeared, swatting her hand through her small body, causing the hologram to flicker before fixing itself.
“Jeez, Lyla! Don’t scare me like that!” Margo whined, slumping down in her chair and staring at the ceiling. That didn’t deter Lyla, who simply floated above her head staring down at Margo.
“Sorry, but you have a job to do today. Go-Home-Machine’s been bugging out, I need you to look at me for me while I’m out on the field.” Lyla declared, to which Margo rolled her eyes.
“Would a please kill you, girl?” Margo smirked, though she was already getting up to get on with her task. Lyla followed along for a bit, both of their bodies glitching through the screen separating them from the GHM, it’s metal legs hanging limply in the air.
“You’re thanked enough by being allowed to stay here. Now, good luck with your task, I’ll check back in on you in a few.” Lyla declared before she blipped it out of existence, leaving Margo alone with the faulty apparatus. She sighed, Lyla hadn’t even bothered explaining what was wrong with it so it was up to her to see what these glitches that were too important for Lyla were. There was probably some better, longer way of finding out what was wrong by taking a gander at its coding, but Margo thought of a much simpler solution.
Margo duplicated her avatar, one standing of the podium beneath the machine’s pincers while the other one worked in the operating room, flipping levers and pressing buttons, causing the GHM to whir to life, clunky sounds of wires and servos filling the room. She hummed in satisfaction, reforming herself to just a singular avatar. It’s mandibles worked with precise accuracy, amber and lemon energy prickling around her, creating a forcefield that left her and the GHM isolated from the surroundings. Margo looked around quizzically, everything seemed to be working fine so far.
That was until those thin, long steel limbs slipped between her wrists, holding her arms above her head. Margo’s brow furrowed as they weaved their strange, glowing, slightly squishy and sticky orange webbing around her hands, connecting them together.
“That’s not supposed to happeeEE-!” Margo didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence as a claw dragged down from her armpit to the bottom of her hip. She would’ve almost thought something like that was a fluke but with the way the other claws were positioned around her, all posed and inches from her skin like a bear trap, she could’ve sworn they were wiggling at her. All Margo could do was sigh.
“God dammit Lyl-ahaahahaHAHAHAahahaha!!” Margo’s assailants struck, about two or three of the claws dug into each other her sides, surprisingly not in a painful manner. Whatever this big was trying to do it wasn’t malicious, just annoying and embarrassing, at least for Margo. They wriggled about against her skin like how someone would play with a stress ball, before starting to spider up and down her sides, leaving her torso positively buzzing with ticklish attention. She tried to jump about from side to side, but she’d just end up jumping back and forth between the sets of claws, forcing even more laughter from her mouth.
“FuhuhuhHUHuck, sohohohomeone heheHEHEHLP!!” Margo called out, trying to curl in on herself but with her arms way above her head, she was as exposed as could be. Some more of the claws found themselves positioned in a row along the odd outstretched arms of hers, just waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Margo glared at them with wild, nervous eyes, simultaneously desperate for them to just get it over with and to rip herself far, far away from the GHM. Suddenly, they struck by drumming and tapping against her underarms, though a few of them circled and scraped against her armpits.
“AAAHHAHAHAAHAHAHA!!” Margo screeched once the anticipation finally broke, simply left with an empty feeling of ticklish dread. She shook all about, shaking her head, clenching her fists, pounding her feet against the floor that she was slightly raised off of, tugging at her wrists, but nothing she did could stop the hysterical laughter pouring out from her mouth. The GHM didn’t seem to take note of just how ticklish the poor girl was, it was just a machine after all. Instead, it continued upping the ante, letting the claws at her sides and arms continuously work in an agonisingly repetitive fashion. A few more claws seemed to materialise, accurately positioning themselves in a ring around her thighs. She didn’t have the luxury of waiting like she did with her arms, instead the little arms began scratching and tracing against her legs. Margo squealed, feeling a winded blush creep onto her face. She bounced about from her bound hands, kicking about wildly against the forcefield enveloping her, but she’d just end up feeling a sharp buzzing in her sole whenever she did that.
“OHOHO, COHOHOHME OHOHOHOHN!!” Margo huffed, how did they even program that? She could barely even find the time to close her mouth or breathe, the flood gates of her laughter having been totally broken open, leaving a wide smile on her face and a burning feeling in her chest. It felt like the more she struggled, the more those pointed mandibles would dig into her. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t sit still at all, flailing all about with a desperate need to get away from all these mischievous claws. Since that wasn’t working though, she figured to do the only thing I could think of.
“LYLA!! LYLAHA-AHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAH!!” Margo screamed over and over, whining slightly as she did her best to sit still with each passing second that her saviour didn’t appear. It felt like years for Margo, but Lyla answered after a few moments of waiting, blipping it existence before her face once again.
“You know I’m busy, ri-what happened here?!” Lyla blurted out, taking off her heart shaped sunglasses to get a good look at Margo. Poor girl had a gaping smile on her very red face, she probably didn’t want to be seen in such a state, her body was shaking, overwhelmed by the ticklish jabs and scritches all over her body.
“I DOHOHN’T KNOHOHW, JUHUHUST FIHIHIX IT!!” Margo barked at her, kicking at Lyla as if that was going to help anything. Lyla just narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.
”Kinda rude, Byte, now I don’t wanna help you.” She joked, which made Margo’s face go red with a mix of rage and embarrassment.
“LYHYHYHYHLA!!” Margo wailed apologetically, or in frustration, it was hard to tell with how tickled out she seemed. Lyla made some noise of agreement, followed by a “fine.” A digital display of the MHG’s code appeared in front of Lyla, to which she began scrolling through and mumbling to herself, but Margo was much too impatient to just let her work.
“DONOHOHO SOHOHOHOMETHING!!” Margo screamed, already feeling a few tears prick up in her eyes. Lyla looked up at her and smirked, casually tapping away at her interface as she spoke.
“Oh, alright, if you insist.” She teased, to which another of the GHM’s claws came to life, positioning itself in front of Margo’s naval. It dug its way against the sensitive button before circling and swirling around against the fabric of her clothes. Margo finally exploded, laughing hysterically as a few tears slipped down her face, thrashing about with a fierce determination to escape, despite how tired her muscles were from attempting to get away so, so many times.
“PLEAHAHAHAHAAHAHSE!!” Margo broke, to which Lyla turned a little more sympathetic. Only a little.
“Oh, look at that, it did practically kill you just to say please, interesting.” Lyla giggles before turning her attention back to the keyboard, hastily tapping away at it. Slowly, all of the little, prying claws slowed to a halt, slithering away to resume their previous position. The webs around Margo’s wrists soon dissipated and dissolved around her, leading her to fall down on her feet, and then her knees, tiredly keeled over on the floor. She took in long deep breaths, a lingering, tingly sensation covering practically her whole body. Lyla appeared beneath her face, trying to wipe away her tears.
“There, there, that’s all over now. You alright?” Lyla asked tenderly, Margo let out one final wheeze before rising to her feet.
“You suck, you know,” she teased with a smile, “I’m fine, thanks, but how did that even happen?!” Margo threw her arms above her head in exclamation to which Lyla winced.
“Oooo, that’s a funny story, haha.” Lyla chuckled awkwardly. “See, when I was making the code for this little thing, I ended up copying some of the code for the machine Miguel used to put on his suit which I…may or may not have tampered with a few times to mess with him and forget to take it out.” Lyla smiled with her teeth though that didn’t seem to please Margo, who just stared at her with narrowed eyes.
“You do suck.” Margo tried to keep a stern composure but she couldn’t help but giggle a little at Lyla’s antics. “Well, it would seem like a waste to remove something interesting like this without testing it a little…more.” She blushed at that last part, but Lyla seemed very intrigued by Margo’s idea.
“Oooo, you think good, Margs, you think good. Who are you thinking, Miguel, Gwen, Peter B?” Lyla listed on her fingers, having seemingly forgotten all about the rest of the week she was meant to be doing in favour of some mischief.
“Let’s do…all of them.” Margo grinned in response. Lyla beamed at her new partner, ready to wreak havoc over the Spider Society together.
Ler!Noir, Lee!Hobie; I've had these two on the mind all damn day, so here.
Peter and Hobie love cuddling in bed before they go to sleep. The only problem with this is that Peter's investigative journalism work requires him to be up at an hour that has been described by Hobie "I hate the AM" Brown as "too-damn-early-o'clock," in order to start work.
Hobie has subsequently decided to make this process as difficult as possible, by wrapping his arms around Peter's waist and burying his face in his shoulder, pleading with him to stay in bed with him for "five more minutes." This is a trap. He does not want five more minutes, he wants to stay in bed all day, and Peter knows this, and will not entertain his antics no matter how inticing his cuddles are.
They do this dance almost every morning, with Peter continuously trying to explain to a very stubborn and extremely sleepy Hobie that no, he cannot stay in bed with him for another five minutes, he needs to go to work, which is usually met with a rant about capitalism and how corporations are doing everything in their power to suck the average person dry of every hour of their free time unecessarily.
Peter's just trying to push him off of him, when his hand brushes against Hobie's hip, and he lets out a small giggle, practically dropping back onto him.
Peter grins, he's found his escape.
He gently skitters his fingers across Hobie's hips, and sure enough, he goes from small chuckles to hysterical laughter in a matter of seconds.
Eventually, Hobie gets so caught up in his own giggles, and trying to fend Peter off, that he doesn't even notice that he's managed to get out from under him. Once he's been released from his tickle monster of a boyfriend he catches his breath and realizes that Peter's no longer on the bed, and is instead getting dressed for work.
"Oi, that's not fair!" He sits back up, indignant.
Peter just laughs, planting a kiss on his cheek, going for his hips again when he tries to pull him back down, before heading out the door.
"See you when I'm off, doll."
Hobie gets his revenge when Peter comes back home though. Turns out he's also ticklish.
