Astv Headcannons - Blog Posts

Rotten || Part 2

Summary: Second chances only come to those who deserve it. You aren't sure if your husband should be considered as a deserving person. Characters/Pairing: Miguel x GN!Reader Word Count: ~900 Warnings: angst, A/N: This was asked to be turned into a part 2 by @bat1212 a while ago and I completely forgot :(( sorry for keeping you waiting!!

Ever since you had walked out, a bitter taste had left its permanent place in Miguel's mouth. He had done nothing but watch the love of his life walk out of their house as if they were nothing to him. He had already lost his old life, and then there was the one he stole from his alternate self. An alternate version of him who was happy, who lived with you and your daughter... up until the incident. When he met you in this world, he swore he wouldn't let anything hurt you. Yet here he was being the soul reason that your chest ached and heart broke.

Your phone was hot, ready to blow up with the number of calls and texts that your husband had been spamming you with. Most ranged from 'call me', to extensive apologies and begging for forgiveness. It would never be worth it.

How could you forgive him after he threw away everything he promised to you?

As your phone rang for the tenth time that night, you finally decided to answer. it wasn't an easy decision, already knowing that the sway in your silent treatment would break your faux confident demeanour. "What is it?" The sigh that slipped past your plump lips was pathetic, a giveaway to how upset you truly were. You could sense Miguel's hesitation before he even spoke.

"I am sorry," he began, "I wasn't fair to you.."

That pathetic excuse of an apology wasn't enough for you. You shook your head, standing in the street as the cool air dug its cold claws into your skin. You shivered and had to fight off another sigh. "Miguel, sorry doesn't cut it anymore. I have had enough of your treating me as if we aren't a team, as if we aren't literally married!" Your voice began to raise, the rush of emotions forcing you to pause before you say anything else that you would regret. Typically, Miguel would have scolded for you for raising your voice at him in his own brash way. Tonight, he chose not to. He was too hard on you, too distant and it was eating away at your once beautiful marriage.

"You're right.." He sighed softly, leaning his back against the headboard of your bed, "Sorry doesn't cut it anymore." He admitted quietly. His eyes shut and his hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He'd neglected his partner for too long. "Come home, my love.. Let me apologise in person. Even if that isn't enough, you deserve to hear it." His words sounded sincere, but they still made your stomach churn. Were you seriously about to go back on your own words and crawl straight back home into his arms? It had only been a few hours since you left and yet you already missed the warmth of your shared bed.

"I can't, Miguel." Your words were stern, even as your bottom lip quivered. If you were to come home, fall into his strong arms and listen to his words you knew exactly what would happen. You would listen to his apology, the sweet little words of your lover professing his undying need to have you in his life as if it was the last thing he'd ever do. You would break, falling back into the cycle of leaving and crawling straight back at the drop of a hat.

Perhaps that's why you found yourself in the cab, still talking to Miguel. You heard his sigh of relief as you muttered your address to the driver, smiling shyly as you sat in the back seat.

"So, you are coming back?" His voice was borderline teasing, poking at your buttons until you'd huff and tell him to be quiet.

"I won't if this is how you're going to be," your grumbled. For a moment you paused, closing your eyes as the car began to move. "Will you run me a bath? I'm cold..." You admitted, only to hear the gentle rumble of his laughter. Although you were both still on edge, neither of you could deter yourself from the need that panged your chest.

It wasn't long before you were home, clothes thrown to the floor as you sunk deep into the bath that Miguel had drawn for you while he impatiently waited for you to come home. His fingers rubbed against the top of your calm, caressing your knuckles as he leaned his head against the edge of the bath. While you basked in the warmth of the water, he settled in your presence outside of the bath.

"Let me make things right.." he whispered, kissing your palm. As you looked down at him, you couldn't help but nod.

"Okay.." you sighed, finally forgiving your husband.

it's your decision! Both will be updated evantually<33

intro !!

blue || 13/03 || PCOS & POTS || masterlist

My blog is intended for those who are 6teen and above. Some topics that I write about can and will be triggering at times, so viewer discretion is always advised!! I will have warnings on all posts that I believe need them!

I'm open to most ideas and am always accepting requests!! (pls im desperate to write). All of my fics are x reader and gender neutral unless stated otherwise!! I also write on wattpad under @blue-sky336 however I post more on here!!

pls be aware that I am a full-time uni student studying a very content heavy degree so I will only be posting when I am able to!!

love y'all x

Mountain

Summary: You're sick of being Peter's therapist Characters/Pairing: Peter x Fem!Reader Word Count: 420 Warnings: light angst, use of the word mum once A/N: why are all my old fics so short :((

"I cannot keep doing this for you." Your words started soft. The conversation was inevitable. The lost sleep, stolen from the spider itself, the trauma and consequences that followed were catching up to the both of you. Peter knew it was coming sooner or later.

"I can not keep taking care of you every night. You can't expect this from me." You placed your bag down on the kitchen counter, the contents beginning to fall out.

"I never expected it from you-" He tried to say. Your hands gripped the counter, knuckles white in pure anger.

"But you did! Every single night you came through my fire escape, bleeding out and sobbing, delirious! And single every night I would fix you up. Even when I was sick, or in pain or hurt, I always patched you up. It isn't fair that you expect this from me." Your words came out rushed, heart hammering against your chest. Rough hands touched your shoulders, trying to calm you down but you pushed them away. Your words were finally caught in your throat, a sob bubbling in your chest like an unruly potion in a cauldron.

"I am not your fucking therapist!" You yelled, "I am not your own personal nurse, or your mum!"

Peter stood dumbfounded at your words. There was no going back from this argument, and he knew it. Besides, you were right. He had expected you to help him. He believed that since you were his forever loving and caring partner that you were willing to risk your own mental health over his physical health. Yet, you couldn't. There was no universe where this would end well.

Attempting to reach out once again, Peter exhaled shakily and gently touched your shoulder. "Please..." He spoke, squeezing your joint through the fleece jacket, "I can fix this. I promise, I can fix all of this. Just give me another chance." The brunettes' words were beginning to sound panicked, yet you couldn't care anymore. He was the cause of your emotional turmoil for the past year. You were no longer willing to be the one to bear the consequences of his actions, especially when you were on the brink of your own emotional demise outside of your relationship with the man.

"No," you shook your head, "I'm done."

The corners of your lips turned up in a hateful and tight-lipped smile. Seeing his distraught expression made you feel powerful, your decision to leave now set in stone. Peter felt you slip through his fingers, watching with nothing but helplessness now as you walked towards the front door. Reaching for your keys, you turned back once more.

"Goodbye, Peter."

Partners

You need a break and Gwen is determined on making you see that.

Warning: mentions of fainting, tingling sensations, slight angst, school just sucks tbh, tooth rotting fluff at the end <3 this was a request that I put off for way to long 😭

"You need to stop at some point." Gwen's voice rang through your ears.

The conversation you had gone through days before had stuck with you, a constant sense of dread at the thought of it jinxing you. School had started just a few weeks ago and you had already decided to take extra credit classes, working harder to achieve the grades that you had missed by a few marks the last term. You knew the consequences of your actions; the insomnia that would follow. Yet, you didn't think it would be this bad.

This was your third sleepless night. You had layed in bed, tossing and turning until ultimately giving up on any slither of hope you had about sleeping. Instead, you turned to your phone and decided to watch the latest binge worthy show until dawn rolled around.

Your alarm rang yet you were still awake, dark circles under your eyes that gave away just how you felt. Your head was pounding and your eyes itched with how dry they were. You didn't bother with breakfast and just got dressed in your uniform, wanting nothing more than to get the day over and done with. Besides, all you had were a few classes (one of them being AP chemistry which held a certain dreaded spot in your heart) which would be easy enough to get through... Or so you thought.

You had barely made it to your first class without tripping over at least twice. Your legs felt weird... to say the least. There was a dull throb in your ankles and a slight tingling in your feet. You could barely hear Gwen calling out to you from behind you. An echoing ring filled your ears, one that didn't sound like the school bell at all. Your arms grew heavy. Whatever books you were holding clattered against the floor. It wasn't long until you were beginning to find that the floor was coming closer.. or maybe you were falling down. It was hard to register, eyes fluttering shut in a matter of seconds. Yet you never touched the floor.

Gentle arms wrapped around you, catching you just before you completely hit the floor. Gwen's eyes had widened and she attempted to swallow back all thoughts of worry. "I knew it.." she muttered. There was a tingle that ran down her spine just moments before you fainted, a tell tale sign that something wasn't right, but it wasn't the only reason she knew. As she scooped you up, pushing your books into the corner of the generally empty hallway to retrieve them later, she thought back to your previous conversation just days prior.

Gwen spoke your name softly. "You're pushing yourself too much.. school has only just started." Her words came off a little more rough than she'd liked. The way you rolled your eyes rung through her memory. You flattened your hair, turning back to look at her. "I'll be fine. I have to anyway." You weren't wrong. You thought you would have been fine, but you must have forgotten just how your mental and physical health was affected when you piled school on top of your home life. The blonde only shook her head. "You know what happened last semester..." She sighed.

It seemed to be at least an hour of slipping in and out of consciousness before you came to. Your head was throbbing, but your legs didn't tingle anymore and your arms didn't feel as heavy. The room blurred for a moment before your eyes fixed on one particular thing.

Gwen was sitting next to you. She had stayed there throughout her last class just to make sure you were okay. You could tell by the way she anxiously bounced her foot and fiddled with the anxiety ring you had bought her last Christmas. Her gaze softened at the sight of your less ghost like paleness. You swallowed hard. "I know.. I should have listened to you.." you said with sincerity, brows furrowing.

"I'm not mad at you." Was the first thing Gwen said to you, reaching for the water that rested on the small table beside the bed you were laying on. It took you a moment to realise you were in the nurse's office. She held the bottle out towards you. It was her own, covered in colourful wrist bands from music festivals and concerts. "I wished you listened to me. You know you can't take on that much.." she said softly, no matter how ironic it was.

"I do know." You sighed.

"I'm here to help you. That's what partners are for." Gwen swept a stray peice of hair from your face. "Drink up okay? Then we can truly talk."

The corner of your lips turned up in a sweet smile. "Thank you, Gwen." You spoke, taking a small sip of the cold water. You felt more like yourself than you had in a while.

"It's my pleasure.." Gwen smiled, speaking under her breath.

AP Chem

Summary: admiring Miles is your favourite way to pass time! Characters/Pairing: E42!Miles x reader Word Count: 325 Warnings: Mention of death, stress A/N: No authors note :))

There is something about watching Miles do his AP Chem homework that has your stomach fluttering. He's leaning over his desk, brows furrowed deep and tip for his tongue slightly peeking through his lips in concentration. He doesn't look as stressed as he usually does, despite what the crease in his forehead might say. He suddenly isn't the Prowler. He's just a 15-year-old boy, doing his chemistry homework that he left to the last minute.

You know he's the Prowler. You knew the minute he came home with a bruise on his face. He couldn't lie to you, not when you had been friends for so many years, and more than friends for over a year now. You tended to his wounds. You stood by him during his grieving, protecting him as he protected his family. You were that barrier that stopped him from growing up even faster; a reminder to him that he was still a teenager, one in need of love and care. Despite his stone-cold look, he was still that same kid that loves his mama and papa more than anything and wanted nothing more than to impress his uncle. The one that dreamt of freedom from his father yet longed for the safety of his hugs. The one that wouldn't let anyone, but his mama braid his hair, claiming that no one else did it the way he liked.

There was a soft call of your name. You realised you had been staring at him, blinking a few times as you came through from your thoughts. "Hm?" You hummed sweetly, that gentle smile on your face. Miles only managed to shake his head lightly, having stood from his chair and sat beside you on his bed. "Said, you could always take a photo. It'll last longer." He winked.

"You are such a shithead!" You laughed, grabbing a pillow and throwing it towards his chest. He caught it effortlessly, laughing with you.

Summary: Peter can't stand that little black dress Characters/Pairing: Peter x Fem!Reader Word Count: 470 Warnings: 18+ mdni!! female anatomy mentioned a couple of times, smut, MJ and Peter have split up A/N: Idk if anyone else needs him, but i need him

You had been Mayday's babysitter for a year now. In this year Mayday had become quite close to you.

Unknowing to you, so had Peter B Parker.

Lingering glances and touches sent your way only became obvious at the Christmas party Peter invited you to (one that MJ was holding). You weren't the babysitter that night as they had hired a second person to do your job.

You thought it was weird, but oh well, you got paid enough for what you did anyway.

Your outfit consisted of a black shimmering dress, slimming and extenuating in all the right places. You wanted to make a good impression, especially since you were just a babysitter to everyone there

you noticed just how long Peter's hand seemed to linger against your hip when other people were around

The way his fingers dug into your flesh, sending shivers down your spine in the most pleasurable way

In a way that left you wanting more

The whisper and touch of his soft breath against your neck had your knees weak, buckling under the pressure of his presence

His hands grip your thighs as he pushes you against the kitchen counter, hiding from the curious eyes of the party

"Stay quiet.. don't want them to know about our fun, do you?"

His words have you shuddering again, head rolling back against his shoulder as soft lips press against your pulse

You feel the slight drag of teeth and whimper

Peter is enjoying each little whine and squirm he's gifted with. Unbeknownst to you, he's been eyeing you all night long, desperate to gain your attention so he can whisk you away from the sight of people who claim to be so close to him

He drags you up the stairs, exchanging dirty words over hushed whispers

"Can't wait to feel you wrapped around me, baby.."

He has you pinned against a wall before you know it, hands exploring the supple skin underneath your clothes

Peter seems to seamlessly peel your panties off from under the dress, leaving you somewhat exposed as the black fabric scrunches at your hips

His fingers leave bruises in your hips that last for days. The red handprint on your ass didn't seem to disappear for a while either

Your moans and whimpers are music to his ears. It's hard to stay quiet when he's so adamant on lapping at your pretty cunt until his mouth is covered in your slick.

He has you in every position imaginable.

On your knees, fucking your face like there is no tomorrow, legs spread on the bed while your hands fist the sheets. Knees thrown over his shoulders as his tongue flicks against your clit.

All he wants is to please you...

And he does just that.

Your knees are sore the next morning and knuckles are still somewhat white from how hard you clenched the sheets

Your dress seems to be ruined, and you can't seem to find your panties anywhere

Peter greets you with coffee and a smile as if nothing happened, but you take note of that longing look in his eyes that shows he wants more than just one night.

Could I request something angsty? Gwen having to deal with her s/o getting hurt trying to protect her despite them being normal.

I Missed You

For sure!! It's not completely the same, but it definitely works lol I learnt that writing fight scenes is not my specialty but I tried my best <33

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, panic, gender neutral, mention of canon death, slightly graphic depictions of injury, mention of vomit

From the moment you and Gwen started talking there was a connection. This electrical current between the two of you only grew the more you became closer. Hanging out turned into dates and dates turned into staying over at night. You were both helplessly in love with each other. Now it had been a complete year since you had first met, still unknowing of Gwen's alter ego and still helplessly in love with the girl.

Gwen's biggest fear since the death of her best friend, Peter Parker, was losing another loved one. She swore to herself after that day to never let anyone get too close in fear of it happening again. Except, she broke that promise. Trying to keep you safe while hiding her secret identity was a lot harder than she originally thought.

You picked up on everytime she left at night and each time she snuck out of class to do.. well, whatever she did. You weren't sure. You had both been in a class at the time, jotting down notes on quantum theory when the green goblin decided to attack civilians within the vicinity of your school. One thing lead to another, Gwen disappeared from your sight and Spider-Woman swung into action.

Gwen was busy attempting to clear out the surrounding rooms. With the villain throwing his stolen pumpkin bombs, buildings were collapsing and if you got too close you would be vaporized. She usually tried not to get anyone killed or injured during a battle like this, but sometimes it was inevitable.

There was a moment that passed where her eyes caught on to you, lingering slightly as she watched you help others out of the building. You had always been brave.. selfless even. Putting other peoples safety above yours, even in dire situations such as this. The green goblin followed Gwen's line of sight and a sickening smirk came to his features. He unlatched another of the stolen pumpkin bombs from his belt, throwing it just towards you. Far enough to collapse the floor beneath you but not close enough to kill you. He wanted Spider-Woman to suffer.

He wanted his revenge.

The floor disappeared from under you, hands reaching up to grip onto anything that was remotely close. Instead they could only find loose rubble and broken tiled floor; nothing that could be used to hold yourself up. You attempted to call out for help but it was failed. Gwen was moving as fast as she could, but she couldn't reach you just in time.

The sickening crack that filled the room as you landed and the gut wrenching scream that followed it was enough to make Gwen want to throw up. Your heart was racing. Any attempt to get in a deep breath of air was thrown out the window as you attempted to sit up. Your leg, twisted out of shape with the bone sticking out, was tingling. Your mouth went bone dry, heart in your throat. A sharp pain ran down your thigh that was dizzying. All you wanted was to wake up from whatever horrid nightmare this was.

Gwen attempted to call out to you, watching you lay there in your dazed state, unmoving. All you wanted was to keep people safe, much like what she was doing except you couldn't. You didn't have the same agility and ability to shoot webs that she did. It wasn't something that came natural to you as it did to her. Although getting powers from a radioactive spider wasn't a very natural chain of events eithor.

The fight wrapped up quickly, this time the villain had escaped. Spider-Woman was to preoccupied trying to keep you from falling apart.

"It's okay- I've got you.. You hear me?" She said your name again, so soft and sweet that you almost felt sick.. or maybe that was the pain. Oh no. That was definitely the pain.

Gwen's hands lifted you up, one arm looped under your back and the other under your legs. There was a loud whimper as she lifted you, hands clutching at her shoulders. "It hurts." You whimpered, dry tears staining your cheeks.

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry. We're going to get you help, okay? I promise."

If it wasn't for your injured state you may have recognized that wavering voice and piercings eyes. But you were so out of it. Your head was thumping and leg was tingling, all you could think of was your injury.

"I'm so sorry I missed you." Spider-woman spoke to you kindly, holding you to her chest as she made her way to the nearest hospital.

"I'm so sorry."

Unresolved Feelings

Summary: Hobie has been nothing but nice to you, sadly, you can't return the favour Characters/Pairings: Hobie x GN!Reader, minor Gwen x GN!Reader Word Count: 800 Warnings: mention of canon events, death, panic attack, emotional distress, angst

"I can't even look at him Gwen." Your words came out trembling, eyes watering. "I can't look at him or talk to him. I-.. I can't go on another mission with him. I almost got us killed!" Your rambling was never-ending. The look in your eyes sent chills down the young woman's spine. It was something she recognised herself, however not on your face. Dark bags covered your cheeks, pupils small and hair a mess. Your clothes were the same that you wore yesterday, meaning you probably slept in them.

"It's okay. We can talk to Miguel.. He'll understand." She said your name so softly, hands coming to rest upon your shaking shoulders. A hiccup slipped past your swollen lips and you almost started crying again. "I'm sure we can fix this." Gwen offered a sympathetic smile, thumbs wiping away any stray tears that dared to fall down your soft cheeks. "Come on, let's get you in some clean clothes and brush your hair. Then we can go talk to him, okay?" Her words were so sincere and comforting that you couldn't help but be embarrassed about your sudden emotional outbursts.

You nodded.

While getting ready, with Gwen pulling some clothes out for you to put on and helping you brush back your hair, you were completely lost in your thoughts. Hobie came to mind and the memories followed.

Hobie was your canon event. In your universe you worked as a variation of spider-man. Hobie was your best friend, your ride or die, the person you promised to look after no matter what; and you failed him. In a moment of quick thinking where you could have prevented his death, you faltered and instead, he ended up 6ft underground. The memories left a cool shudder running down your spine. Goosebumps formed across your arms and the hair at the back of your neck stood at attention.

"He won't understand, Gwen. This is useless." You spoke quietly, rubbing your face as if that was going to get rid of your eye bags. "This isn't going- you know what Miguel is like! If anything this will make it worse." You huffed through your nostrils.

Gwen just shook her head an rolled her eyes. "You're a pessimist." She sighed softly, squeezing your hand ever so gently. "I promise it will be fine."

Of course, by the time you had made it to Miguel's 'office' you were feeling a little bit better. Gwen had reassured you that Miguel might listen, and you wouldn't have to see Hobie again. Part of that pained you. In fact, part of you longed to crawl right back into his arms as if nothing had ever happened. The thought of simply inserting yourself back into his life flashed through your mind, following by the look on his face as he fell. You couldn't put him through that again..

The conversation went... okay. As okay as it could go. You were now free from any interactions with Hobie Brown. You felt so conflicted. Gwen understood your pain. Seeing such a close friend die and then to be confronted with that same person, but not your own version is traumatizing. The amount of unresolved trauma that comes back is overwhelming; no wonder you were getting no sleep.

On the way back to the lobby you were confronted with this unresolved feeling. The same punk rocker that you had been actively avoiding was marching his way towards you, a slight frown on his hollowed face. Your heart was racing, your head almost spinning. He stood in front of you and yet you couldn't move. Your feet were frozen, eyes staring into the deep brown of his own. You felt like crying again, but nothing came out.

"You've been avoiding me."

His words didn't come out as harsh or controlling, but rather concerned.

"Get out of my way."

"That doesn't change the fact that you've been avoiding me." Hobie said your name in the same way that your version did. Your shoulders shook slightly, head hung lowly.

"It doesn't fucking matter- okay? You didn't do anything! So get out of my way, Hobie!" Your words were harsh. Your tone was conflicting against your thoughts. No matter how much you wanted to run into those familiar lanky arms or playfully flick his chin, you couldn't, because this man wasn't your Hobie. The Hobie in front of you was a stranger. One that you only had superficial feelings too, and one that you could never be nice to.

The pained look he gave you made your heart ache within your chest. He didn't say anything and just stood to the side, taking a step out of your way. Your mouth moved but no words came out. Instead, you forced your feet to move before you did anything that could have been even more stupid than your outburst. You left him standing there with your head now held high in an attempt to seem strong.

Hobie could see through your act. You couldn't fool him.

Rotten

Summary: You're sick of Miguel treating you like shit Characters/Pairing: Miguel x GN!Reader Word Count: 342 Warnings: angst, Miguel deserves a jump scare warning in everything A/N: why are all my old fics so short :((

"Everything I did was to protect you!"

Those words were etched into your brain. How dare he tell you that. He hasn't thought of you since your wedding night.

Every day you heard the same excuse for why Miguel wasn't at home. Lyla would send a message, 'Sorry, Miguel won't be coming home tonight, work is keeping him late.' Every single day! It was pathetic and you knew it. You stuck around because, 'love conquers all', right? Fucking wrong.

Today you had finally had enough. You had bottled so much anger that all you could do now was boil. Your face grew red, cheeks hot in pure rage. You could hear your own blood rushing through your body in tidal waves, adrenaline causing your heart to thud against your chest. Your stomach felt like it had flipped inside out.

"For me? Oh, Miguel. You have done nothing for me!" The words slipped out faster than your mind could think. "You have been a selfish, piece of shit since the moment I met you. It just only took me two years to fucking notice." Your feet moved forward and before you realised your finger was hitting his chest with every word that slipped past your swollen lips.

Angry tears poured down your cheeks. "I have waited. I have been patient! I have let you dump your sob story on me. I did everything to make sure that you weren't going fucking crazy! I sacrificed my own fucking sanity for you! God, how I wish I had of ran away the day that I married you."

Your words hit him like knives in the pit of his stomach. His mouth ran dry. It was the first time you had ever seen him entirely speechless. Usually he had an excuse, but you supposed he had used them up in the two years you were married.

"Nothing to say, yeah? Guess you wasted all your excuses. You don't deserve me, Miguel O'Hara."

That was the last night you saw Miguel O'Hara and you were happy about it.

Soft!42 Miles who only wants what's best for you. He provides for you through his work as the Prowler.

Soft!42 Miles who enjoys the feeling of your hair between his fingers, the look of peace on your face as he combs his fingers through your hair is like pure heaven

Soft!42 Miles who likes to leave small notes on your mirror telling you just how perfect you look

Soft!42 Miles who also wants to take you on so many dates that he has a list on his phone of all the places you mention enjoying or wanting to go to.

Soft!42 Miles who likes to hug you from behind, face hidden in your shoulder as he smirks against your plush skin.

Soft!42 Miles who melts everytime you call him a term of endearment, no matter what it is.

Soft!42 Miles who just wants to hold you in his arms each and every night, knowing that you are safe and loved.

Flirtatious! Hobie Brown who can't help but lean in close to your ear and whisper the sweetest of compliments just to witness the blush on your face.

Flirtatious! Hobie who knows just how much you love it when he calls you by pet names and will use it to his advantage. "You got a sec, sweet pea?"

Flirtatious! Hobie who enjoys the way you throw back the best comebacks to his pickup lines

Flirtatious! Hobie who shamelessly flirts with you as Spider-Punk to the point where news articles are written about spider-punks mystery s/o.

Flirtatious! Hobie who loves the feeling of your breath against his ear when you whisper back how stupid that pick up line was.

But most of all, Flirtatious! Hobie who can't help but smile every time he sees your blush because he knows he's the one who caused it <3

Baby Fever

Summary: Hobie calls you over while babysitting Mayday. Characters: Hobie x GN!Reader, Mayday Word Count: 434 Warnings: fluff A/N: n/a

"You're getting pretty soft there, Hobes." You flashed a gentle, loving smile as you watched his long arms drape over Mayday.

"Nah, I'm not bruv." He huffed through his nostrils, his face just teetering on the edge of a smile as he looked down at the toddler. There was something about that little girl, 'Spiderling' as most of HQ called her, that literally had his heart melting. Despite how tough his exterior was he didn't think he'd ever be one to deny babysiting Mayday.

"I don't know, babes. I think I can see you melting right there." You teased, hand coming to gently run over the sleeping toddlers head. "Isn't she just the cutest?" You whispered, leaning in to press a small kiss on his cheek.

"She's just a rebel in training. Gonna be the best anarchist, ain't ya?" He hummed, looking down at her with that gentle smile of his.

Interacting with Spider-Woman (ft. Dating Gwen)

Warnings: fluff, angst, playful banter, fem reader, mention of death, SPOILERS

Your first interaction with the one and only Spider-Woman was when she popped in at your workplace. You were serving at the register and she just so happened to waltz in and order a honey infused tea.

You memorized her by the first three times you spoke to her and she had memorized every single freckle on your face

It's one of those scenarios where you know each other, but she hasn't necessarily told you about this alter ego of hers. Hell, she was dating you- although the relationship was fairly new (like a couple weeks)

As those weeks turned into months you began to notice just how often this Spider-Woman was coming to your work

In fact, she knew exactly when you finished work and had offered to walk you home multiple times

"you sure about that? I'm sure someone's getting robbed somewhere." You'd tease her

"I'm sure." She'd reply and under the mask would be that sweet smile that often made you swoon

She'd take you home so often that you were getting used to the fast swinging and 'thwip' of her webs

That was until it got stuck to your clothes and it took you weeks to wash it out

"Next time it sticks to my shirt, you're washing it." You'd huff in playful annoyance, "My mum was so mad when she saw it, thinks I'm in a gang or something."

Gwen would laugh so hard, practically snorting

"Oh, really? A gang, huh? Must be pretty cool being apart of the spider gang." She'd bump your shoulder, still walking you home after every shift

You don't remember ever telling you when your shift ends, it just seems like she always knew

Evantually you started to wonder about how many times Gwen would run off and Spider-Woman would rush in a few minutes after

You payed no mind to it for so long, but now things were making too much sense

You never asked, it didn't feel right to ask

If you ever did ask Gwen I think she'd be frightened. After what happened with Peter she saw to never make friends (let alone getting a partner), so she'd shut you down.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You bring up Peter

"You have no right to bring him into this! He has nothing to do with you and me or Spider-Woman!"

"You do, Gwen! I know now- You disappear and a few seconds later she comes running in! You're the only person who knows when my shifts end and she walks me home! It makes sense. Just humour me, please."

It ends in an argument, but you come back to apologize. You didn't necessarily mean to explode like that. She was right, you had no right to bring up Peter like you did. It wasn't fair

"You are right." She'd say, "But you have to understand that I have been hiding this from everyone.. I told Peter and you saw what happened." Her voice cracks and your hands meet hers

"I know.. I'm so sorry. It wasn't fair."

After forgiving and forgetting, you both still pretend to not know each other when meeting each other as Spider-Woman

However, that doesn't stop Gwen from sneaking in small kisses on the cheek when no one's looking

Accidents Happen

Summary: Hobbie's medusa piercing gets stuck on your septum ring after a more heated make out session Characters/Pairings: Hobie x GN!Reader Word Count: 447 Warnings: minor mention of claustrophobia, panicked reader, reader has a septum piercing A/N: no one can tell me Hobie wouldn't look hot af with a medusa

"Oh my god.. Hobie. Hobie it's stuck." You words came out rushed and almost slurred, lips swollen and bruised from the harsh kisses your boyfriend had given you just seconds before. The once passionate moment was beginning to fizzle into nothing more than a dying ember at the bottom of a fire pit. You knew you should have flipped up the jewelry embedded in your septum and now, here you were with Hobie Brown literally stuck to your face.

"When people joked about you being stuck to me, didn't think you'd take it seriously, luv." His words came out teasingly, hands still gripping your hips. With a gentle squeeze of his hands he leaned in the slightest bit to close the small gap between your lips. "No. Hobie- it's.. it's actually stuck." As much as you loved the intimate way in which he was so close, you were also beginning to feel claustrophobic.

Your face heated up, cheeks going red and breathing becoming the slightest bit more rapid than your previous panting. Hobie's thumb caressed your cheek. "Lovely, it's okay. Take a deep breath for me, yeah? I'll get you out of here." His words were comforting.

You took one deep breath in, held it for four seconds and slowly exhaled. He glanced at your eyes and then to your nose, seeing just how tangled you really were. The slightest movement would tug on the silver jewelry between his tip lip and nose.

"m just gonna bring my hand up to your face, 'kay?"

He knew it wasn't going to help your panicking, but now that you were slowing your breathing he was more confident in his decision. Long fingers came between your noses. He brushed against yours, smiling a little when he noticed that sweet look in your eyes. In a few swift movements he had unscrewed the ball of his medusa, catching it in his free hand. He pulled back slightly and was quick to put the ball back on, not wanting it to get lost.

"That's better, innit luv?" He grinned mischievously.

"Much better. Thank you, Hobie." You sighed softly, feeling a lot freer than a few seconds ago. His hands began to move back to your hips. You flipped your septum ring up into your nose and giggled quietly at the gentle strokes of his thumb against your waist. "Let's get back to what we started, hm?" Hobie suggested, leaning back into your lips.

Touch starved! Hobie loves to have his hands on you. His hand might be on your hip, in your back pocket, fiddling with your ring finger, etc.

Touch Starved! Hobie who doesn't care who sees him kissing your neck, marking and biting just to get any taste of you.

Touch Starved! Hobie who leans in every time you pull away. Your touch lingers against his cheek, leaving soft sparks against the tinted skin.

Touch Starved! Hobie who lets you do his eyeliner because he loves the feeling of being close to you. Having you in his lap with his eyes closed and the most dazed look on his face. He's in heaven.

Touch Starved! Hobie who sprays his pillow with your perfume because he finds your scent so attractive.

Touch Starved! Hobie who's always got his arms wrapped around your waist from behind when standing around HQ. No one has ever seen you two apart, you're practically attached at the hip now.

Touch Starved! Hobie who is desperate for any touch you're willing to give him no matter if it hurts...

Sure, Next Time.

Summary: Hobie only comes to you after trouble Characters/Pairing: Hobie x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: Blood, injuries, dislocated finger, hurt/comfort A/N: Pls bear with me as I attempt his accent lmao

It didn't necessarily surprise you when Hobie accidentally let it slip that he was Spider-Punk. You could recognize the sticker abused guitar and stressed leather jacket anywhere. What did surprise you was the number of injuries he sustained and how easily he could hide them from you. If he had a limp his excuse was, "Tripped in my boots, luv." Any other injuries he used the excuse of having started a fight with some capitalist douchebag. And you believed it. It was only until he came back for you to patch him up after every battle that you began to truly let your anxiety feed into it.

Hobie had climbed through your window at 2am. The sun was nowhere to be seen, and the moon was shrouded in clouds. You had become a light sleeper as of late, the rise in crime getting on your nerves and preventing that precious rest you craved.

You woke up at the sound of those familiar heavy boots against your tiled floor. Squinting, you recognized the familiar shadow of a certain spider-man, or at least the shadow of the spikes on his head. "Hobie?" You reached to turn on your bedside lamp. Tired eyes squinted as the warm light enveloped the room. Your voice was scratchy from having been woken up at an ungodly hour. Your hair was all over the place, strands in front of your eyes and sticking out in ways that you didn't know it could. You thought this was a dream with how Hobie had frozen like a deer in headlights at the end of your bed.

Hobie thought he could just slip in and out, weaving his way to your bathroom and taking a couple of bandages for his trip home. He was wrong and now look at him. He had barely made it to your house in one place and there was no doubt that he was not making it back to his own. All his weight was on his left leg, he was using a web connected to your roof as leverage to keep him upright. You could see a dark stain seeping through his mask just above where you assumed his left eyebrow to be. You suspected there to be more than what you could see through his mask but would have to wait until you finally got him to the bathroom sink to find out.

The corners of his lips turned up as he watched you struggle to untangle your legs from the bedsheets. "Need some help, luv?" A shit eating grin adorned his face, but you couldn't see it. Even when he was injured, he still managed to make your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm just fine." You huffed, finally finding the floor against your feet and taking steady steps towards the injured man. You didn't see him using your roof as leverage and silently cursed yourself for taking so long. "You better not pull out my roof with that web. Otherwise, you'll be the one dealing with my landlord." You huffed only half-joking. Humour seemed to be your coping mechanism. "Don't get all funny on me now, luv." He chuckled, sounding worn out and in pain. You helped him through your mediocre apartment, having draped his arm over your shoulders and letting him rest his weight against you as you walked (stumbled) to the bathroom.

With a slight huff through your nose and grunt that you wished was silent, Hobie was now sitting on your toilet, the lid shut. He was too tall when he sat on the sink (you found that out the first time he came over) and well, you didn't have much room up there to begin with. You crouched to the cupboard below your sink. In a Spider-Punk themed box (made by you to tease Hobie) was a consistent supply of bandages, disinfectant wipes, alcohol wipes, splints, etc. There was everything you could think of that someone would need when injured. You made this box not long after the first time Hobie came back with blood dripping from his forehead, and you didn't have anything to help. That night was filled with gentle apologies and worried glances.

"Can you take the mask off, Hobes?" You mumbled, having pulled the box onto the sink. You turned to watch him, tired eyes noticing just how he flinched when he moved his arms to push the mask over his head and tossing it to the floor. His hands were trembling, one of his fingers looking to be the slightest bit out of place. The cut above his eyebrow was bleeding profusely and it looked as if part of his piercing had been pulled on.

"'s not as bad as it looks." His hands gently moved to rest on your hips, eyes glancing towards the worried look on your face before moving to the roof. "Not as bad as it looks. Baby, you've probably got a concussion... No, you've definitely got a concussion." You mumbled, hands already digging into that spider-punk themed medicine box. You managed to pull out some baby wipes and a few alcohol wipes. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, heart thumping in your ears. Your hands came up to caress his face, taking a baby wipe to gently wipe the blood dripping down his face. There was a visible wince and a hiss of pain that came from the touch. Hobie's long fingers gripped the fabric of your pyjamas.

"I'm sorry, Hobie..." you muttered, trying to be as gentle and careful as possible. Once the cut was cleaned and a bandage was placed over it, it was time to move to his finger. "I'm even more sorry about this. We're gonna need to put it back in place, okay?" You were kind of glad you took that health course in high school now.

Hobie let out a groan, too tired to respond with words, but it was clear he was not looking forward to it. His hands released their grip on your hips and instead were placed in your palms. "Okay, we're gonna count to three and I'll put it back in. That good, baby?" You asked.

The suspense was killing Hobie, he was already in pain as it was. He's had dislocated digits before, so he understood the importance of getting the limb back in its socket as soon as possible, but that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it. He nodded. "Yeah, okay." He hummed in response. Except you didn't even count. You waited until he spoke up and quickly pushed the digit back into its socket, earning a muffled (still loud) groan of indescribable pain. "I'm sorry! Fuck, I'm sorry. It's over now." You apologized, wrapping his swollen wrist in a compression bandage. The tears brimming in his eyes and the sick pop of his finger had you feeling queasy. You felt your stomach flip and not in the usual happy way it did when Hobie was around. However, you pushed the feeling aside, hands resting on his cheeks as you leaned in to press a small kiss just to the left of his bandage.

"Let's get you to bed..."

After finally fixing up his injuries the two of you had found yourselves lying in bed. Hobie was next to you, one arm drapes over your stomach, the other resting under his head. His lips brushed against your cheek.

"I worry about you. About what you're doing." You spoke quietly, glancing back into his eyes for a moment. "I know it's for the greater good, but seeing you come home in the middle of the night half dead every day is- It's not nice." You rambled quietly before finally going silent.

He huffed through his nose, although it wasn't angry. "I know, luv. Gonna give you a heart attack one day." he joked, pressing his lips to your temple. "I love you." The words came out quiet, barely leaving his lips before you turned to face him.

"I love you too, Hobes. But next time you get a dislocated finger just go to a doctor. I literally felt sick from that." You mentioned, earning a small nod and a deep chuckle.

"Sure... next time." He mumbled in response, closing his eyes and wrapping his arm around you securely. There was no need to worry about the outside world as long as you were in his arms.

What the ASTV Boys Love about you!

Warnings: does fluff count??? Lots of fluff lol, slight mention of panic in Miguel's section, reader is mentioned to know Spanish

Tried keeping it as gender neutral as possible!

Miles Morales

- The way you call him, mi vida. You already knew some (or were fluent) in Spanish. However, you didn't necessarily speak it often. There weren't much times where you needed to other than around family. So, when you first called him 'mi vida' he basically malfunctioned. His cheeks went pink and his jaw dropped, but he snapped back quickly after you called his name. It was so simple but he truly new you were the one.

Pavitr Prabhakar

- Where to start.. This man loves everything about you, from the way you look to the way your mind works. Personally, I think his favourite thing about you would be how you look when you're concentrating. Whether you poke your tongue out or bite your bottom lip, he's so entranced, watching you with the look of a lovesick puppy. He enjoys seeing you so passionate about something.

Hobie Brown

- He loves the way you hold his face when you're fixing a bloody nose or a cut above his eyebrow. Heck, he loves the feeling of your slightly calloused yet still soft hands against his sharp cheeks. The way you're so apologetic when he winces as you're cleaning a cut, but you scold him after just so he knows you're serious. It has his stomach doing happy little flips knowing you care so much about him with just this simple touch.

Miguel O'Hara

- He loves the minimal physical touches you offer. The gentle brush of fingers or a simple caress of his shoulder. It's comforting, but not overwhelming. He isn't huge on PDA, so you not being overly touchy is something he loves so dearly. It's something where touch says more than words. He knows that you understand when he's stressed or upset when you give his hand a squeeze, a gentle reminder to help him ground himself.

Peter B Parker

- He loves your hair. Whether it's short, long, or a mohawk. He loves how soft it looks, the gentle touch to it. His favourite thing is to touch it while cuddling. You could be wrapped up in his arms and he'd somehow be twirling your hair between his forefinger and thumb. It's more of a habit. You know how some baby's play with their hair to go to sleep?? That is exactly what Peter does, but with your hair.

Runway Model

Summary: Hobie was surprised when you asked him to model some of your own designs, but he was not going to pass up on the occasion. Characters/Pairings: Hobie x GN!Reader Word Count: 276 Warnings: minor mention of blood, fluff

Both of you were half asleep. Hobie's arm was drapes across your stomach, head resting into the crook of your neck when the words slipped past your lips.

"You should try my designs.. I mean, they're not too different from your style and I think they should fit.." you rambled. God, he loved it when you rambled. He'd silence you with a soft kiss to the neck, the cool metal of his lip ring sending soft shudders down your spine. He could practically hear your racing heart beat.

"would luv to, babes." He'd reply, that knowing grin on his face at the slight flutter within your chest.

The next morning comes with the smell of coffee and bleeding fingers. Perhaps caffeine and sewing needles wasn't a good combination at 6am? The only reason you were up was because you couldn't sleep to begin with.

By the time it was 7am the outfit, still half done but at least fitted to Hobie's height, was showing progress. And by the time it was complete, Hobie was amazed.

There was something about the fact that your literal blood, sweat and tears having been put into this singular outfit impressed him. It was probably the dedication that came with it. He tried it on as soon as possible.

Although he was stoic, he also had a knack for jokes. He'd strut down your shared hallway, flashing poses and mischievous grins that would entice giggles from your throat. It had his own stomach fluttering.

Hobie Brown would do anything for you.