Latest Posts by blue-sky336 - Page 2

Summary: Miles is grieving and you're the best distraction Characters/Pairing: e42!Miles x fem!reader Word Count: 492 Warnings: use of mami, minor mention of grief, un-edited A/N: None

You'd think with the constant fear and adrenaline rushing through your blood that time might just grace you by moving the slightest bit faster. Yet here you were, clutching your bag tightly as you speed walked through dangerous streets to your boyfriend's house. It was closer than your own and you didn't exactly feel like getting anyone's unsolved illegal business.

'u home yet, mami?'

The text sent shivers down your spine. Miles may have been a dry texter, but that didn't mean you weren't excited to see him, especially with the drama that occurred at work. The sweetest of smiles came to your face as your feet moved even faster.

'just around the corner <3'

Your hands fumbled with the door, using your cut of keys to open it. Once stepping inside you shut the door behind you and made sure to lock it, stuffing the keys back into your bag. You kicked your shoes off and made your way upstairs.

"Miles! I'm back!" You called out, the silence almost unnerving. It wasn't until you heard that familiar base line of a song that your shoulders relaxed. You walked up behind the chair your boyfriend sat on. Your bag was now next to the door, half fallen on the floor. Draping your arms over his chest you leaned in to kiss his cheek. He grew tense for a moment before lifting his headphones off his head and looking up at you.

"Don't sneak up like that." He huffed through his nostrils.

"It's okay, baby." You smiled, pressing your lips to his other cheek, "You know it's just me."

He shook his head. His paranoia would get the better of him some days and you knew that. On days where it was worse, you often found yourself situated in his lap, pressing kisses against his face. Even if Miles wouldn't admit it, he had always enjoyed the feeling of your arms around him. The comfort that came with it.. it was to die for.

"You good, baby? You're quieter than usual." You asked, brows furrowing. "That a new design?" You peaked over his shoulder, glancing at his most recent drawing. Miles instinctively covered it with a blank piece of paper. You were confused, but didn't question.

"Yeah, mami. I'm fine. C'mere." He hummed, spinning the chair once you had taken a small step back. He patted his knee once and within a few seconds you were pulled into his lap. He rested his head in the crook of your neck.

"I just need you." He whispered against your ear. He sounded so sad. It left your heart aching. You understood the weight of his father's death had been pulling him down recently, and some days he couldn't find the words to speak about it.

"You don't need to talk to me. But I'll be here when you're ready.." you whispered to him, kissing his temple.

Sometimes the silence was just what he needed.

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.

Possessive! Miguel who's hands are always gripping your hips the slightest bit too tight, leaving bruises the size of his palms.

Possessive! Miguel who enjoys watching you squirm in his lap, keeping you secure with his large hands and staring daggers at any man who dares looking at you.

Possessive! Miguel who loves the startled look on your face as he pushes you against the wall, hips rutting into yours.

Possessive! Miguel who has you begging for any touch, asking (telling) you who you belong to. "Who do you belong to, mami?"

Possessive! Miguel who enjoys seeing your pathetic pout as he teases you, placing lingering touches that has your hips bucking into his rough hand. "Oh, mami, look at you... You're just begging for me to take you.."

Master list

Spider-Verse

Hobbie Brown

Touch Starved

Next Time

Runway Model

Accidents Happen

Flirtatious

Baby Fever

Unresolved

Miles Morales

E-42! AP Chem

E-42! Soft

E-42! Silence

Peter B Parker

Mountain

Temptation

Pavitr Prabhakar

Dating Headcannons

Miguel O'Hara

Possessive

Rotten || Part 2

Gwen Stacy

Partners

Missing You

Interaction with Spider-woman

Miraculous Ladybug

Chat Noir

Clementine || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5?

Love and Deepspace

Sylus

Hurt

My Hero Academia

Tenya Iida

Hard launching

ASTV Master list

Hobart 'Hobie' Brown

Fics

Sure, Next time

Patching Hobie Brown up after a more dangerous encounter with a supervillain. (Hurt/Comfort) (gender neutral)

I'm not a role model. I was a runway model.

Hobie models your own designs (fluff) (gender neutral)

Accidents Happen.

Hobie's piercing gets stuck between your septum ring, leading to a sticky situation (fluff) (gender neutral)

Baby Fever

Hobie calls you over while babysitting Mayday (gender neutral) (fluff)(drabble)

Unresolved Feelings

Hobie has been nothing but nice to you, but you can't do the same in return (gender neutral) (ft. Gwen) (angst)

Head cannons

Touch Starved! Hobie

Things touch starved Hobie does to you (gender neutral) (slightly suggestive)

What the ASTV boys love about you

Ft. What Hobie loves about you (gender neutral)

Flirtatious! Hobie

Things flirtatious Hobie does to you that he can't get enough of (gender neutral) (fluff)

Miles Morales

Fics

Come home with me.

Asking Miles to come with you to your dimension ends in a little more than you expected (fluff) (gender neutral) (coming soon)

Unknowing and Unexpected

When Miles is taken to dimension 42 he doesn't expect to see an old friend.. or at least a version of one (series)(angst)(gender neutral)(cannon violence)

Headcannons

What the ASTV boys love about you

ft. What Miles Morales loves about you (fluff) (gender neutral)

Gwen Stacy

Fics

I missed you

Headcannons

Gwen struggles with keeping her s/o safe (request) (gender neutral) (angst)

Partner

You need a break and Gwen is determined for you to see that (request) (gender neutral) (comfort/hurt)

Interacting with Spider-Woman while dating Gwen

Ft. Playful banter with Spider-Woman (gender neutral) (fluff) (angst)

Miguel O'Hara

Fics

You Don't Deserve Me

Miguel fucked up. (angst) (gender neutral) (short)

Headcannons

What the ASTV boys love about you

Ft. What Miguel O'Hara loves about you (fluff) (gender neutral)

Possessive! Miguel

Things possessive Miguel enjoys doing to you (NSFW) (explicit) (gender neutral reader)

Peter B Parker

Fics

Temptation

Peter longs for you more than you think (drabble) (nsfw) (Fem reader) (explicit)

Headcannons

What the ASTV boys love about you

Ft. What Peter B Parker loves about you (fluff) (gender neutral)

E-42 Miles Morales

Fics

Cat and Mouse

E-42 Miles realizes he's fallen in deep with his enemy (angst) (fem reader) (coming soon)

Silence

Sometimes all Miles needs is a good hug and some silence (hurt/comfort) (grieving) (gender neutral)

AP Chem

Miles is still a teenager, and you can't help but admire him as he does his AP chemistry homework (fluff) (drabble) (fem)

Headcannons

Soft!42 Miles

Things soft Miles loves about you (gender neutral) (fluff)

Pavitr Prabhakar

Fics

Coming soon

Headcannons

What the ASTV boys love about you

Ft. What Pavitr Prabhakar loves about you (fluff) (gender neutral)

Dating Pavitr Prabhakar

He's a little awkward, but it's okay because you love him

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.