#hobie brown x latina!reader

[futurecorps3]

Hobie Brown partying with latina!reader<3

Masterlist<3

SUGGESTIVE!!! MDNI GO AWAY OR ILL BITE YOU

I’m already giggling about this shit and haven’t even started it 🤭 just picture that emoji cause that’s how i look rn. This is written from my perspective which is from a mexican living in Mexico going to 100% mexican perreos!!!

-It took a while to convince him to be honest

-Don’t take it the wrong way though!! He’s supportive and go ahead, perrea hasta el suelo but it’s just not his scene

-He’s not a reggaetón hater, he believes every type of music has a merit to it!! BUT ITS JUST NOT HIS SCENE

-Hacerle ojitos was enough to convince him lmao

-“Mi amor please! I want you to meet my friends” You whined, looking up at him all dressed up for the party that started in about thirty minutes. How could he say no when you were looking so pretty? “Shit ‘aight” He muttered, leaving to do his makeup as you kissed his cheek sweetly

-Now when y’all get there

-HE’S ASTONISHED TO SAY THE LEAST

-Yeah sure, mosh pits were crazy and the pubs he frequently attended were also wild but seeing

-People making out with a stranger then the next, some couple basically fucking in the couch next to the door, a girl downing shots like there was no tomorrow, besos de tres, and most importantly; el perreo.

-My man gets shy n shit like he holds your hand. pls help him no entiende nada

-Your friend approaches you with two plastic cups with some golden liquid that didn’t even reach the half of the cup. “Hey Hobie! Nice to meet ya’, my name’s Martha. Tengan, para ambientarse and getting the party started for you two!”

-Hobie thought it was dumb to drink so little of something, even more when he saw how effortlessly you downed your shot. “What’s this shit?”

-Tequila. It was Herradura. Now he knows why you pour so little for a single shot.

-HE WAS WHEEZING, SPILLING HIS GUTS OUT AND ABSOLUTELY BAFFLED BECAUSE HOW DID YOU DRINK THAT WITHOUT EVEN FLINCHING?????

-Your male friends definitely laughed a bit at that, pero en buena onda, they know how important Bee is to him so they’d never be mean to him hehe

-“Ay cabrón, Martha le dio tequila?” One of your friends say while laughing, his arm rounding your boyfriend’s tall figure “Sí, no soportó” You laugh back, kissing Hobie softly

-Your friends got to know him, silently questioning his intentions and stuff but not like they’re your parents. They mean well!! They just want their friend to be happy with this new dude, and some of them are men, so they definitely know how shit they can be

-“So this is what usually happens?” He asks, looking around as he takes it all in “Yup” you nod, popping the ‘p’ and smiling “I love it”.

-He found it all very freeing; no one judging, everyone moving as they pleased and drinking like hangovers weren’t real. No labels, no consistency. Just fun.

-Then… your friends pulled you to the circle to dance

-And he was done for.

-Seeing how you moved your hips in circles (something he was now sure was sort of a generic gift) changed his life forever

-You danced with your girlfriends, making a line of grinding and twerking from time to time. Some of their boyfriends reaching out to dance with them

-“Holy shit” Hobie muttered, entranced by how you ass moved in those shorts “Yeah, it’s something else” One of your friends who was now friends with Hobie (bonding over playing vodka beer pong) answered.

-“Try to dance with her man, I know you’re foreign and stuff but I don’t think Y/N/N would mind teaching you”

-His feet take him to you before he knows

-“Want me to teach you, love?” You shout so he can hear you over the music, and he just nods with a smile, holding your hands

-“Your work is just moving with me with your hands on my hips, look at Martha and her boyfriend”. He noticed how your best friend’s boyfriend kept a tight grasp on Martha’s hips, going down with her and up again if she did.

-Hobie replicated his moves and soon he got the hang of it

-Big, ring-clad fingers holding your waist tightly as he loosened his hips and felt your ass grinding against his crotch. You can feel how his tall figure looms over you, towering your smaller frame and you love it.

-As he gets more confident, he starts pulling you closer, kissing your neck from time to time and pulling away for a bit so you can scream some lyrics with your friends and then go back to him.

-It's safe to say he has a boner, yeah

-To you? It felt like an absolute dream! Imagine him grinding behind you to some track of Un Verano Sin Ti as he sings along to some of the chorus’s lyrics <3

-You got wasted, danced the night away, he perfected his spanish and you accomplished your dream; ver a Hobie Brown, el punk, perreando.

˚ · • . ° .

TAGS: @kirbyskisses @angeliquecherie @cowboycurtis56 @backyard-bear @lilacspider @gktyo @katsukiswrld @elusive-honeydew @solanawrld

I'm actively ignoring my full inbox to write this so it better not flop. HERMANAS lemme know if u like it and leave in the replies what else would you like to see from hobie with a latina reader

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

#hobie brown x you #hobie brown smut #hobie brown angst #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x latina!reader #hobie brown x hispanic reader #hobie brown fanart #hobie brown x y/n #hobie smut #hobie x you #hobie headcanons #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderpunk x reader #spider punk smut #spider punk x reader #atsv hobie #atsv x reader #atsv

[navisakura]

Is anyone else pleasantly surprised at the sheer amount of black, latino and other poc!reader fics that have come out of the ATSV fandom? Like it’s normally so rare to find fanfics with a poc or a dark/brown skinned reader in mind but seeing so many different people integrate their culture and background into their work is genuinely heartwarming

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #miles morales x reader #pavitr x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #peter b parker x reader #atsv x reader #fanfiction #spider punk x reader #spidergwen x reader #reader insert #self insert #across the spiderverse #hobie x reader #gwen x reader #black reader #latina reader #native american reader #atsv #atsv fic #hispanic reader #spiderman 2099 x reader

[lovely-josuke]

❝EUROPEAN NONSENSE — SPIDERVERSE HCS

summary ; hobie with a hispanic girlfriend who loves to cook and makes her food spicy or very seasoned when he doesn’t use seasoning as much.

pairing ; hobie brown x hispanic fem!reader (no specific race stated)

note ; i sometimes forget hobie is british but writing this concept was so much fun to do lmao 😭 thank you anon for this request <3 i just hope our boy really doesn’t just season his stuff with salt only because of that.

• — hobie brown !

had a cough attack. this was deadass him the first time he tried your cooking.

now, the only reason you made food for him was because you caught what he was eating the day before. it was the most driest, whitest, piece of chicken you’d ever seen. it was so bad, you could hear pavitr crying his heart out all the way from a different dimension about “european nonsense”.

you remember just staring at the chicken on the plate. no seasoning, only salt. the worst part is, he had just drained it from the pot and you could see the steam coming off it. sits down with his knife and fork. you were just staring in disbelief and you asked him while pointing at his so called dinner, “hobie what is this?”

he looks at you and said, “what? have you never seen chicken before?” you don’t know what that thing was but it definitely was not chicken.

tells you that it’s good and you should try it. GOOD? you nearly lost your mind right then and there when he stabbed it with his fork and just bit into it. you’re convinced he’s a psychopath because even you wouldn’t stoop this low.

no way we’re you gonna have your boyfriend eat this for breakfast, lunch, and dinner 🙅🏻‍♂️ not when you know you can cook up the best meal he’d ever have in his entire life. you let him eat that dry chicken though because he needed to suffer for saying it was good.

you had told him to come over for dinner and he’s like “finally i’m gonna get to try your cooking” since you always told him how much you love cooking. actually, hobie starts coughing the minute you open the door for him to come in. hobie had taken a deep breath and was gonna say how nice it smelled before el chile hit him unexpectedly.

never smelled this amount of spice before. you had to open the windows to air the apartment out. you’re use to the smell so it’s not like it bothers you. he’s waiting out in the living room, still coughing and now you know he’s probably doing it on purpose.

you wait until the smell has calm down before you tell him the food is ready. pretends he died from hunger because you took too long. you’re surprised he didn’t choke on the dry chicken.

you decided to make him some empanadas de carne molida y de pollo which, unknown to him, was drenched in salsa roja and seasoned to your liking. you’d had the toppings prepared too. red onions, cilantro, lime, tomatoes, and several other things so he could taste it.

“by the way, i made sure not to make it spicy.” you told him that as you both sat down and he trusted you. which he wished he didn’t. you had two empanadas on his plate, one of each and pointed out which one was which and he went to try the chicken one.

first bite he was fine until the spice kicked in and he just looked at you and started having another cough attack like, “🤨 you’re sure this isn’t spicy?” you had to get him some water and he had to wait a little bit before eating again.

you told him to try it with the salsa you’d made. you did a red one and a green one. and according to you, the green one was the one that wasn’t spicy. naturally, he went for la salsa verde only to be met with a burning sensation far worse from the empanadas.

you had to apologize so many times to him but he told you that it was fine especially since you’re just used to the taste and smell. and it’s not like you did it on purpose. “🤨 or did you?”

after his experience, he doesn’t trust you when you say it’s “not even that spicy”.

but trust me, once he’s hooked, he’s hooked. never sees any kind of food the same. and it’s so hard to make him stop coming over whenever it’s dinnertime.

hobie just knows and he’s crawling through your window in his spider suit asking what you made for the two of you to eat. even has tomatillos and chiles verdes in a small plastic bag so you can make a salsa. meanwhile you’re just standing in the kitchen, knowing you only made enough for yourself.

you ended up having to teach him how to season his food. he prefers yours ten times more though so yes, he still shows up for dinner.

#atsv x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x you #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x you #hobie x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #hobie brown x hispanic reader #x latina reader #latina reader

[kirbyskisses]

reading spiderverse fanfic and seeing

a. the terrible spanglish

b. the writers who have no idea how blk londoners talk

is very funny to me

-

seriously though, ask for help if you all want to sound authentic, we’ve already been posting guides to spanglish and london slang so don’t be afraid to ask around ❤️

#kirby says cute things <3 #miguel o’hara #hobie brown #x black!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miles morales x reader #hobie brown x reader #spiderman #x latina!reader

[themastaralex]

Always, even to the End.

When an anomaly mission goes bad, you're left in critical condition, while a distressed Gwen is left to handle and process what just happened, while Miguel is there to save you, making sure you don't die like his daughter once did.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, direct talk of open wounds, very poorly studied medical stuff.

This shit was so much longer than I was thinking to make it like wtf do you mean 5k words?? Also Latina reader 🫶🏼❤️

"Oh, shit."

Wounded. Red. Pain. Talons.

Then, a voice, heavily muffled.

Ears. Ringing.

You open your eyes, barely able to see a figure. Then you feel a bruise on your eyebrow, moving to your eyelid.

"..fuck.." Strained, you groan, breaths ragged. Then the figure crouches down next to you, and they pull up your mask, right below your eye.

"-die." The figure's hand moves toward your bruised cheek, lightly brushing it. "St.."

Blood rushes out from your mouth, a sign of internal injuries.

Oh. I'm dead.

Almost.

Your eyesight starts to settle a little more, as you can finally make out some more detail of the figure.

White.. Hood..

Oh.. yeah.. mission. Almost forgot.

"Ngh.." Gwen looks around and presses something on her arm, her watch. Then as the portal comes up, she picks you up and speaks something into the watch.

You're not sure what happened to you. And right now, you're sure you want to sleep.

You're tired.

The blood loss.

She grabs you and runs into the portal. The portal is short, and she has no time to waste, so she doesn't wait for the elevator, instead, she just jumps, and even though you don't have the normal spider-person sticking, she keeps you close, and held.

You recall your mask, similar to Miguel's recall.

Your face moves to the left, as you see people running and rushing toward you, medics.

A smile comes up on your face when you see Miguel rushing towards you.

Haha.

Only time he'll ever run to me.

Then you look back at Gwen, her mask off and hood down. Her teeth are gritted as hard as she can as she runs toward the team of Spider-Medics. You didn't exactly get too good of a look at her face, but you see the gap in her teeth,

Cute.

Only a second later, your ears quit ringing, and you can finally hear, as she places you on a stretcher.

"Can you hear me?!" One of the medics yells as he flashes a light in your eyes, making sure you're still here.

"Ye..yeah." Just like earlier, your voice sounds heavily strained, as if it pains you to speak, which it does.

Up until now, most of your body has felt numb, but you finally feel it, the worst hit you've ever felt in your history of being Spider-Woman/Shadow of 2099. And you don't feel your legs. Or anything past when you got hit.

"I can't.. feel my chest.." You mutter out, a whisper in the wind.

"What?" Gwen asks, narrowing her eyes at you.

You desperately look at her, as your breaths become more and more labored.

The medics rush you to the medical bay, as Miguel and Gwen follow them. They place a oxygen mask over your mouth and nose, making sure you can breathe.

Gwen contacts Miles, Hobie, Pav and Peter so they know what happened.

"EVERYONE, MOVE! MOVE, DAMN IT!" Miguel clears a path, clearly worried for you, but he'd never admit it, at least not in front of everyone.

He always had that one soft spot for you.

You always did remind him of his daughter.

Your smile, your curiosity.

God, Miguel wishes so bad you didn't, because if you die now, he'll just get hurt again, and again.

So he'll do almost anything to save you, his 'adoptive daughter'. A year and a half ago, he would have said he didn't have anything to lose.

But now.. you know the rest.

After a few minutes of rushing to the medical bay, they get you into emergency surgery, then find what happened.

"Multiple broken vertebrae, shattered spine, fractured ribs, and a mediocre concussion. We have her in surgery right now to fix her spine." The doctor glances up from his clipboard, seeing a pacing Miguel and Gwen in a chair, slouched over, thinking over and over, 'how did this happen?'.

You don't blame her. Not after what the Goblin pulled.

"I'm not even quite sure how she survived, given she doesn't have the typical spider-powers. But I do know she has a similar physiology to you, Miguel." The doctor points his pen toward the 6'9 man, as Miguel turns toward him, encouraging him to continue. "You might have to do a blood transfusion, given that she's lost quite a lot of blood."

The Goblin, he's the one who did this to you. He mimicked Gwen's voice, saying, "Spider-Woman, help!"

It was in that second that you should have known. She never says Spider-Woman. She always says Shadow.

You should have known, you should have. But of course, your feelings and thoughts got the better of you. And the fact that you have no spider-sense only made it worse.

"Alright. I'll do what it takes to save my 2nd best Spider." Gwen quietly laughs at that, but only for a second.

"And you, Gwen, we'll need to check you out before you can leave." She nods, standing and following the doctor, but not without looking back at Miguel, who is glaring at her, his fangs out and everything.

Her eyes go wide, and she turns back around as fast as she can.

Oh, shit. Miguel's gonna kill me after I get bandaged up.

She can't help but get that awful feeling in her stomach just thinking about what Miguel will do to her after.

After Gwen follows the doctor in the doors, he drops the angered look, and instead dawns a tired look, complete with lowered eyebrows and small frown.

"Chingada madre. Kid always has to be in some sort of trouble. She can never stay still." He pinches his nose bridge, in between his eyes.

He keeps his eyes on the surgeons doing your operation, then looks at you on the table, under the effects of anesthesia.

"You better survive this so I can ground you." He barely smiles, giving the illusion he's still deathly angry with you, because he is.

The only thing you think about while under is a nightmare of not being able to save Gwen if the Goblin actually had her, which is almost traumatic for you. And whenever you think of it, your heart rate spikes, and the doctors have to give you additional drugs to calm your system down.

Regardless, almost everyone who knows you is worried, knowing that having your spine fractured, broken, shattered, whichever you want to say, is huge.

The doctor finishes treating Gwen's minor and major injuries, like cuts, bruises, and her broken arm. He gives her a cast to wear on her left arm for a week or two, before coming back for a check-up.

She heads back out the way she came, stopping for a minute to see the progress they've made. Virtually zero, but this surgery is complicated and will take hours of labor to repair the broken vertebrae, piece together the shattered spine, and replicate the ruptured nerves.

For some reason, she can't help but blame herself, just like she's blamed herself for so many other things.

But you don't think it's her fault, you know it's not her fault.

Other than blaming herself for something she couldn't have prevented, she watches the surgeons work for a minute, before wanting to head to your shared quarters, which for now, will be vastly empty.

For now, it won't be filled with the sound of your pencil going at it on your sketchbook paper, or you listening to some of your favorite songs, or the sound of you criticizing either a book you're reading, or something on the holoscreen.

And she feels alone. Again.

She hasn't felt this alone in a while, since after all, you're there next to her most of the time.

Grinning, laughing, trying not to laugh when Lyla "accidentally" turns off Miguel's hologram and his butt shows.

But she has Miles, Pav, and Hobie, right? Yes, but they're not you, one of her only girl friends, and best friend at that..

She stares at your bloodied and bruised face, reminding her of when Peter died.

Her thoughts go dark for a moment, thinking about you dying. On that table. Having to tell your parents in your universe that you died saving her.

Gwen snaps out of it, shaking her head.

'No. Stop thinking like that. She has the best doctors in the Spiderverse working on saving her. She'll be fine..' Gwen isn't even really sure if she can trust her thoughts, as she lightly frowns. 'Right..?'

She closes her eyes for a second, before turning around to leave the medical wing.

She's only a few steps away from the door when an alarm goes off, flashing red lights going off all around.

"Code Red in Medical Wing B, Code Red in Medical Wing B."

"SHE'S GOING INTO SHOCK, PUMP IV FLUIDS AND GET MIGUEL BACK IN HERE, STAT!" The head surgeon yells to a nurse inside the room, as he rushes to get the fluids and calls Miguel on his watch.

Gwen rushes to turn around, as she sees the surgeons working hard to save you. Then she hears the doors slam open to her right, as Miguel sprints to the entrance of the room.

She can't bear to watch, so she doesn't. She runs, out of that wing, to your shared quarters.

She runs, just like she ran after Peter died, and after her dad aimed his gun at her, not even giving her a chance to explain.

She opens the door, moving inside, not sparing the outside a second glance. She slams the door closed, sliding down it, sitting down onto the floor.

Her eyes darted around the floor, not thinking of anything in particular, other than the obvious: that she just ran away from having to see another person in her life die. Especially one she cares so much for.

One that she cares so deeply for, that she would gladly spend everyday with, that she'd give her life for.

She raises her head, a grave realization coming to her.

"Ah, shit.." She furrows her brows, the smile on her face bitter. "I like her. Just had to realize this now, huh?" Gwen just shakes her head, biting the inside of her cheek, holding back everything else she's feeling.

Aka, everything else she's feeling that she hasn't allowed herself to feel, like loss, or anything other than the wall she put up for a while, which was promptly taken down by Miles, Pavitr, Hobie, and most predominantly, you.

And right now, all she does is sit there, thinking about how pissed she'll be at herself if she doesn't get the chance to tell you that she likes you. If she doesn't get the chance and you die, that's just another death she'll claim responsibility for, even when both you and her knew the risks.

She'll blame herself for making the multiverse lose such a beautiful smile, a selfless hero, a brilliant mind, and the girl she likes.

And again, it's only now that she realizes her stares, because back then, she took them as just admiration, respect. Especially when she looked at you in the gym, bench pressing, with Miguel spotting you. She thought that she reacted like, 'Holy shit, that's impressive!' But she was like, 'Holy shit.'

Regardless of what she used to think, she knows now. And she knows she has to tell you, if you live. And if you don't, she'll carry it to her grave.

She wishes she could just curl up into a ball and cry, but she has hero work. Anomalies to take care of.

In a rude interruption, someone knocks on the door, then it's accompanied by a light voice.

"Gwen, you okay? Open the door." Only Miles would have that soft of a voice, especially when speaking to someone who's just experienced something more than bad.

She pauses for a second, trying to think up an excuse.

"Uh, I'm changing, can't." Real smooth.

"Mhm. Okay. I'll wait." And there he goes again, with his caring demeanor.

Gwen rolls her eyes, standing from her spot on the ground. "Fine. Come in." She opens the door, allowing Miles to come inside, then quickly shuts it again.

She moves over to her bed, passing a cabinet with a couple of pictures on top, with her and you in them.

She looks at them, grabbing them after a moment of staring. In all of them, you're smiling, whether that be brightly or annoyed.

"I know you're probably feeling guilty right now. But it wasn't your fault. Risks come from being a spider-person, especially one that doesn't have a spider sense." At those words, Gwen just nods, the words going in one ear and heading out the other. She just walks over to her bed, sitting on the edge.

Miles can't help but cross his arms, furrowing his eyebrows. "That's not the only reason you're worried, is it?" He finally asks the question.

All this time, Miles was deathly sure that you liked Gwen. He knew that for sure. But he never completely expected to realize Gwen liked you back.

He always had that small thought in the back of his head, but nothing had ever come of it, until now.

When Gwen doesn't do anything but look down at her feet, it confirms Miles' suspicions.

He nods, softly smiling. Nothing needs to be said by either of them.

Miles had always liked Gwen ever since that super-collider brought them and the others together, including you.

Ever since then, she's been heavy in his head and heart, as so much of the stuff he drew during that middle year was just her. Even his mom called him out on it at one point, but he heavily denied it.

Right before the super-collider incident when you and the others were brought into Miles' universe, you were busy battling Loki, along with the Avengers.

He was beating you guys badly, until you temporarily got the upper hand. But then you got sucked into Miles' Earth, effectively making your Earth lose the battle with Loki.

When you came back, most of the Avengers were in critical condition, and your mother along with thousands of New York citizens, were dead.

You wouldn't have known. You couldn't have. Yet, everyday, you blame yourself for their deaths, because if only you had defeated Loki faster, right?

If only. That's all anyone tells themselves.

She still has the photos in her hands. She can't let go of them, because what if she loses you at that moment? Those photos will be some of the only happy moments of you two she physically has.

She laughs, for a split second, as she looks up at Miles, sitting up straight.

"She always had that same old dumb smile. Every time." Her smile is small, reminiscent of the many smiles you've had, and many of them pointed at her.

"Tell me more." Miles nods, a smile evident on his face, after getting Gwen to talk about something to cheer her up. He drops his arms from his chest, instead opting to drop his arms to his sides and loosely place them on his hips.

Of course, Miles feels sad that Gwen doesn't like him like that, but now wouldn't be the time to say anything like that. He instead focuses on giving her some comfort in your stead.

"After she smiled, she would like, laugh but it sounded like exhaling a breath, if that makes sense?" She'd take a deep breath, looking at the pictures again, softly smiling.

"She'll be okay. I know it. And if she isn't.." She quiets down a bit, slouching and placing her arms on her legs. "I'm not even gonna imagine that." She finishes off her words with an exhausted sigh. She casts the pictures one last glance, before standing and placing them back on the cabinet.

Miles follows her figure, his tone gentle. "Are you feeling better now? Need time?"

Gwen would nod at his words, always thankful for such understanding friends.

"Okay. I'll go. If you need something, don't hesitate to call." He gives her a thumbs up as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

For now, Gwen is more than content with her current thoughts about your situation, even with the slim chance you might not survive.

But she doesn't think about those odds. No, not for another second.

—————

Around 2 hours later, Miguel speaks to the doctors working on your spine, as they tell him they can't fix your spine.

"What do you mean, 'We can't fix her spine.' Huh? I've given you all the medical instruments of the future! Fix her damn SPINE." He looks at all of them, mentally and physically drained. His look of anger seems to dissipate when he looks at your body however.

"Her spine is beyond repair. There's too many shatters and fractures and missing pieces. She is quite literally better off with us removing her spine and installing a completely cybernetic one-"

"I don't want to hear it." Miguel sighs, his eyes looking at you on that table, bloody and unconscious.

I can't. When you need me most. Oh, kid..

He thinks for a moment, his face desperate.

You're strong, determined. So I'm hoping you can handle this.

He sucks up his pride, wearing a scowl. "I'll get you the fucking spine. Just.. make sure my kid's okay. And don't mess this shit up." He growls, only proving how serious he is.

They all nod, albeit a few of them scared. Then Miguel leaves the room, readying himself for a long night ahead of him, creating a cybernetic spine.

At that time he rushes to his lair, taking out some blueprints from when he was working in Alchemax.

He scrolls through various different types of cybernetic spines, some that attach to the intact spine to strengthen it, others that just line the spine, then there, full spine replacement cybernetics.

There's only a couple, due to the fact most of them were for cosmetic reasons. But out of the few there were, one stuck out to Miguel, a carbon black color, stemming from the part in the neck to the bottom of the pelvis.

"It looks chunky, but I'll admit, looks practical and badass." He pulls the blueprint down to his workstation, projecting it in front of him. "Okay. Hardest thing is probably how the hell the nerves are gonna work with this. But not my circus, not my monkeys."

Miguel takes a deep breath and cracks his knuckles, calling Lyla.

"Lyla, lock down the lab. I need absolute concentration to finish this in time."

"Hmm? Lock down the lab? What for?" She innocently asks, standing in front of him, on his left.

"You know why. Just do it, you know damn well you don't want the kid to die. She's the only one who tolerates your bullshit jokes." His voice takes an angered tone, as he grits his teeth.

"Alright, fine. But this wasn't for you." She locks down the lab momentarily, giving Miguel a peace sign before disappearing.

He mumbles under his breath about how much he hates her, but he won't do shit to change her.

Anyways, after his little issue with Lyla, he studies the blueprint, although it'd be so much better if his brother Gabriel was here. He always was better than Miguel at technological stuff.

Miguel clears his workstation of anything else other than anything regarding the spine.

"Time to get to work."

—————

Miguel works meticulously, yet still with a fairly quick pace. In around 11 hours, he has the spine done, and if he made it correctly, it should latch onto where the missing spine should be and 'solder' the nerves into itself.

"Hopefully.. this is good." He pauses before continuing to speak, to no one, other than Lyla, who is probably listening. "I need to rest." He breathes for a second, just taking a moment, before moving to deliver the spine to the surgeons, who right now, are probably taking short breaks while they wait.

He walks to the medical wing, the Spider Society HQ quite quiet for 5 a.m. Not many people are awake yet, seeing as Miguel pulled an all-nighter out of his ass to save you.

When he arrives, the surgeons look surprised, their eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Miguel currently looks like a ghost and a vampire had a child, and decided to never let it sleep.

"Here. I promised, and I delivered." Miguel's voice sounds strained, as he hasn't had many liquids either. He's just been so focused on saving you. Losing another person he loves, especially one he sees as a daughter would be devastating for him.

"Y-You got it?! Okay, we'll get right on it." For a few minutes, the surgeons just took a small break, maybe a few minor power naps. Because during the 11 hour period where Miguel was busy on the spine, they got on taking out your spine, part by part. So right now, you just look like muscle and fat, with your back opened up.

They were slow and steady, making sure to not take a risky shot at any point. Either way, they weren't expecting to see Miguel with the spine so soon, especially one that smells fresh off the factory line.

They carefully place the spine on a table, near your body.

At this point, they've given you so much drugs that not even a junkie would have taken this much in their whole life. But it keeps you down and out, so that's what they keep doing.

They disinfect the spine, as they lift it above you, ready to insert the brain stem part first.

All the while, Miguel waits, his face expectant. "Work.. Chingada madre, this better work." His eyes dart from your back to the spine, as they move it in.

The spine acclimates to the area, as it connects itself to the nerves. The surgeons have never seen anything like this, not in video games, TV shows, nothing. They slowly push the rest of it in, the last part in the pelvis a bit of a trickier challenge.

"Yes! YES!" Miguel smiles, his desperation turning into relief as he starts to cry, an unusual action for him. "Y-You're gonna be okay, kid." His breath hitches as he steps back, running his hands through his hair, then down his tired face.

The surgeons finally finish, after 14 hours of straight, hard, no sleep, work, they manage to save you.

They call some nurses to move you to a different room, gently placing you on the bed, hooking up all kinds of medical stuff to you, as Miguel stares at your bruised face.

He can't help but have a small smile on his face, knowing he managed to save you.

Thank God you're okay. Losing you would have sent me off the deep end.

I'm still going to ground you to high hell.

—————

3 days later, everyone's seen you in the hospital, resting. And at that time, Miguel stands next to your bed, arms crossed.

"Doctor says you should be waking up around now." His voice stays monotone, not wanting to let an inch of emotion out. "But I know you. You'll wake up unexpectedly and keep your eyes closed to surprise everyone." He'd chuckle, the corner of his mouth turning up.

There's silence for a few moments, before you start groaning.

Huh.. que chingadas..

You rustle around for a second, as Miguel's eyes stay on you. Slowly, you open your eyes, the lights of the room bright, as you get readjusted.

"Ugh.. my head. Jesus, f-" You don't dare finish that sentence the second you see Miguel right next to you. "Miguel.. Wh-What happened? How long I been out?" You try not to speak too loudly, given that you haven't spoken in the last 4 days.

"You've been out for a few days, kiddo. Anything hurts like you're gonna die?" He pulls a chair next to you, leaning back in the chair, arms on the armrests. "Or are you feeling good?"

You nod, your head still feeling a big groggy.

"No, 'stoy bien. But.. What happened? And where is everyone?" You sit up, touching your back and feeling the outside of the spine. You recoil your hand at the touch, as Miguel sighs.

"Ah, your spine was too damaged to repair. They.. removed the whole thing and I made you a new one. Like from that Cyberpunk 2077 game you like to play. And everyone.." He clicks his tongue, as he presses some stuff on his watch. "..is coming now."

You look happily surprised, a large grin making its way on your face. "Thanks Miguel. Siempre me ayudas cuando te necesito." He smiles at your words, as he pulls you in for a quick hug.

"Siempre, mija." He takes an affectionate tone, as he lightly squeezes your shoulder, letting go of the hug.

Not even a minute later, the 4 musketeers show up, with smiling faces.

Your eyes light up at their appearances, especially after seeing Gwen's relieved face. She smiles, and you can see that tooth gap you love so much. Then you see the cast on her arm, but decide to bring it up later.

Miguel follows your gaze, landing on Gwen. He looks back at you and just smiles, as they approach.

"Heard sleepin' beauty was finally awake from her kip. Gwenny here was in bloody shambles the entire time. We were too, 'course, but, ah, she barely slept, ate—" Gwen interrupts Hobie, nervously laughing, trying to keep her collected persona intact.

"He's uh.. exaggerating." She walks over to the right side of the bed, crossing her arms as she glares at Hobie near the head of the bed. "But I'm really happy to see you're okay."

Everybody else other than Miguel either awws, or oohs.

Meanwhile, you just keep your eyes on her, smiling like an idiot. "Thanks, Gwen. Means a lot to hear you say that." Then your eyes move to the three dudes bunched up together at the head of the bed.

"And you three, what no, 'Congrats on not dying!' shit? Nothing? Damn, leavin' me out to dry here."

Miguel enjoys the active atmosphere around him, but he has work to do, so he leaves, giving everyone a quick goodbye and you, one last hug.

After he leaves, Miles sits down in the chair Miguel was in, leaning back.

"So how long you gotta be here? Few weeks?" Miles asks, as he looks around the room.

"Not sure, I doubt a few weeks. Maybe another few days. Just gotta get used to the new spine, I guess."

"New spine? Fucking cool."

You spend the next hour talking with all of them, as they recap what's happened over the last few days you were out, nothing much.

After the hour's over, Miles is the first to say goodbye, as he has something to do with Margo. Then Hobie and Pav have training to do, as they said, 'He needs to learn to not be such a pussy!' 'Says you!'

Regardless, you don't mind as they leave, because that gives you some time to talk to Gwen, alone.

She walks to the chair, sitting down.

"I haven't asked you if you're okay yet, have I?" You turn towards her leaned back figure, wanting her to be completely honest with you.

"No, you didn't. But, I'm fine. Honest." You raise a brow to that, knowing she's not completely telling the truth.

"The cast?"

"Oh, this? Just to stabilize my arm after the break." Your heart drops hearing that, as you take a breath.

"Your arm broke?" You say, pausing as you look at it. "Shit." A mumble under your breath, as she sighs, gently punching your shoulder with her right hand.

"Yeah, it broke, but it's fine. I'll be fine, don't worry." She smiles, with a slight nod at the end.

You tiredly sigh, mindlessly grabbing at the blanket on top of you, thinking. "You know," You didn't use the 'y'know' combination, so Gwen knows this is serious. "The entire time, while I was out, you were the only thing I was thinking about." You keep your voice quiet, as your face expression is soft.

"I like you, Gwen. And I wanted to say that now because who knows if something like this happens again, to either of us, but we don't survive?" Your words are raw, coming straight from the heart.

Every time you've envisioned yourself telling her this, it's always been during a rainy day, particularly on the roof of the Spider Society HQ. Either way, you never got far enough to see what she'd say.

But now, you've shot your shot, and you're hoping you don't miss.

Gwen bashfully smiles, looking from your hand to your face. "I like you too. It took me a while to realize, but I know."

You turn your body slightly to face her, butterflies in your stomach. "Good. I thought I made it kind of obvious." A gentle laugh emanates from you, as she looks at you, from your smile to your nose, to your eyes.

"Obvious? I don't think you were obvious if I didn't catch on to it."

"No, you're just super oblivious."

She stands up, leaning on the guardrails on the bed. "Oblivious, huh?" She chuckles, leaning in.

You smile, moving a hair out of the way, then pulling her in for a kiss. Your hand moves to her neck, with your thumb on her cheek. Her soft lips connect with your slightly chapped ones.

It lasts for a few moments, before you separate, dumb excited grins on your faces.

"Was that obvious enough?"

"Hmm, no.. I think you'll have to show me again."

You laugh, looking all around her face, remembering every little detail, down to the last almost invisible freckle.

You'll never forget this, mainly due to the fact that right afterwards, your heart rate monitor spiked and some nurses came in and saw you guys. Now, that, you'll never forget, because Gwen was there with you.

(If yall are at all curious as to what the spine would be here it is, cyberpunk77 reference 🫶🏼🗣)

#gwen stacy x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #gwen stacy #miguel o'hara #miles morales #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #lyla spiderverse #atsv #itsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #oh btw youre 6'4 in this for comedic purposes #latina reader

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Hi, I'm wondering if you would be okay doing a Hobie x Miguel's afro-latina daughter. If not that's totes okay and I also adoreeeee your writing 💋🤍🤍

I would love to!!

Coast clear?

You smiled and laughed as Hobie dragged you along, you both sat in the photobooth now. He put his money in, and selected two strips.

“Alright, smile!” You both did so, and Hobie pulled you closer to him.

“Do a funny face!” The machine said as it counted down, you had an idea, grabbing his hands and making him hold your mouth up, so your fangs were visible, he gave a shocked and scared face.

You both laughed for a little.

“Something cute!”

You both kissed.

“Do your best pose!”

You both looked at each other, not knowing what to do, and you both just laughed as the camera took the picture.

“Oh man. Those turned out shitty.” He laughed as they showed on the screen, and asked if you wanted to print them now.

You both walked out the machine and waited for the strips to print, he had an arm around you as you both waited, talking and talking.

You laughed and soon the photos printed, you both quickly grabbed one.

“I look bad.” You shook your head and laughed.

“What you talkin’ bout’? You look fuckin’ sexy. And what have I said about-“

“The beauty standard is made for white woman and we shouldn’t believe in it because it is oppressive to everyone who isn’t seen as a white, blonde, blue eyed man or woman.”

“Exactly. That’s my girl.” He said, giving you a quick kiss and looking at the photos again.

“Im gonna frame it and put it on my wall. It’s beautiful.” He said, smiling proudly as you both continued to walk through the mall. (The mall that Hobie came to to steal and support the few small family businesses around)

(Idk bout malls where you guys r but the ones near me have tons of small businesses in them so)

“Alright, ready to go? You stayin’ tonight or nah?” He asked you, once you both had left.

“I would stay but my dads already suspicious of my so called friend. He started asking for phone numbers… so I can’t.”

“Nah, I get it. Your dads a real pain in the ass though.”

“I know.” You rested your head on his shoulder, you both sitting down on a bench. He wrapped his arm around you.

“Well, I guess you should be goin’ then?” He said after a while of silence, he checked the time.

“Yeah. I guess. I’ll see you tomorrow hopefully?” You asked, standing up. He nodded and stood up and you both walked to an empty alley.

You opened up a portal and looked at Hobie again. You kissed him for a while, and then turned back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you” you said, with a small smile, he smiled back.

“See you, love you.”

You went into the portal and suddenly you were in your room. You smiled to yourself and you took out the photo strip in your pocket.

“Y/n.” Miguel said, from the dark corners of your room. He emerged out of the shadows.

You jumped, yelling and dropping the photo.

“Papà! I wasn’t expecting you to be home so soon…” you said, nervously as he came closer.

“Where were you?” He crossed his arms.

“I was… out.”

“Where were you?” He asked again.

“I was out… I went out.” You shrugged, and picked up the photo, sitting on the bed.

“With Hobie?” He grabbed the photo that you were trying to hide, and pointed at the one of you kissing.

You sighed and held your head down.

“Quería decirte. I knew you would be mad-“

“You’re damn right I’m mad?! Why are you universe hopping for no reason, you know how dangerous that is. He pointed to you. “And you didn’t tell me about Hobie?!”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” You mumbled, he sighed and sat down next to you. He put the photo down.

“Hobies just a pain in my ass is all. I just think that he’s… a bad influence.”

“He’s not a bad influence. He’s nice, and he’s sweet when you get to know him. Promise. And I’m sorry about the universe hopping.”

“Its- you know why I’m mad, don’t you?”

You shrugged.

“Because I love you. I care about you.” He said, looking at you.

“You look so much like your mom you know?” He laughed quietly and so did you. “Your hair and eyes..” he shook his head, standing up.

“Goodnight. I love you.” He said, leaving the room.

Then, when you closed your eyes, and laid down, a portal opened up next to you.

“I was waiting for you.” You said when he laid down next to you.

“Aren’t you always?”

“No. Don’t be so cocky. My dads here too, and he knows-“

“Oh fuck, seriously? He’s gonna make my life a livin’ hell-“

“I swear to god, Y/N O’HARA!” You heard him yell, you pushed hobie down to go under the bed, which he did.

You yawned and stretched.

“What’s up dad? You woke me up-“

He narrowed his eyes, looking around the room. He huffed and quickly went back to his room.

“Coast clear?”

“Yeah…” you said, and helped him back up into your bed.

“That was close.” You both laughed.

———————————————————

Tag list:

Hobie- @enviinotes @rayis-psychotic @korizzybee @animechick555 @stupid-ninja @rreasonablydumbb @xxqueen-of-horrorrxx @spidypunkk @criodzasn

@techta @1eonk @chipstermation6 @whosace16 @ @l-pandamatic-l

@spider-phoenix @zebralover @my-melo-gf @wiz-te-ria @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn

@deputy-videogamer @666kpopfan @jared-oranges @likelilac @jjkclub

@kitty-kei @blaxk-widow @hoesindifferentshows @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @artsykerfuffleplus @notbluees @sp0kyzz @arlipooh @freeingrebels @ken-zah @blustalker @cursedbitchboy @romanoffswoman

@chaoticevilbakugo @hobiebrainrot @anonima-2

#hobie brown x you #hobie brown x afro!latina reader #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown fluff

[fuutakaijyama]

You Get Sick In The Summer ?

hobie brown x latina!reader

description You get sick in the summer, and even if you don't know why Hobies here to take care of you.

includes latina reader, cussing in spanish, spanish slag, cockney slang, salvadoran slang, fluff, hurt/comfort, maybe ooc???, spanish (in general), confused Hobie, spanglish, fem!reader, salvadoran reader

Sick, sure being sick wasn't the worst thing in the world, a bowl of soup, some medications to help with the pain, water and maybe juice if he felt nice.

“Miles, get the fuck away from me before I sneeze on you.” This, way normal you were like a sibling to him, and as annoying it was when you bugged him he enjoyed your company. “Oh shut up!~ Embuste. You went out there and you got sick.” He spun around in his chair to face you on your bed, wrapped up in blankets and pillows and all of your plushies.

“¡Oh, cállate! ¡Maldito Morales, eres tan molesto!” (Oh shut up! Damn Morales, you're so annoying!) You rolled your eyes at the tall boy before readjusting under your sheets, getting comfortable again before melting back into the soft mattress as Miles pushed himself over to your side. You side eyed him, shoving your head deeper into your blankets. Your house was quiet, too quiet.

The faint knock on the door drawing Miles out of his staring contest with you, “Si te mueves, te voy a abofetear con mi telaraña.” (“If you move, I'm going to slap you with my web.”)

You could hear Miles from the hallway, two sets of footsteps coming down them as your eyes adjusted to the light from the hall,“–Nah, she won't mind you being here. I gotta go get some more stuff for her anyways..” the gruff voice making you feel more awake. “Yeah it's fine, her goin’ through being Tom and Dick all the time.”

Hobie. Hobie fucking Brown. In your apartment. Fuck.

The door swung open, Miles holding onto a black plastic bag as Hobie walked in behind him, “Yo, Hobies here.” He raised the bag as he went back to your chair, sitting down placing the bag in his lap. “Okay..? ¿Y la bolsa?" (And the bag?) Miles turned to Hobie as you peered at Miles under the pile of blankets, looking at him then the bag, then back to him. “I don't know?! Ask Hobie!” He moved backwards before standing up and putting on his jacket. “Miles? ¿Adónde vas corriendo?" (where you running too?)

You rolled your eyes before rolling over to your other side facing the large window just zoning out, “The store, I'll be back in like.. ten?” You barely heard him speak as your eyes started to close as you groaned in response then hearing him walk out of the room closing the door behind him, now it was just you and Hobie. You could hear him take a breath moving towards you taking a seat in the chair Miles was in, the shuffling of the plastic and smell of fucked up boots made you turn around to face him. “Hobie..? What's in the bag?”

You sat up in the bed letting the blankets drop to your sides hitting the bed turning to face him. “Just some Rosie Lee, luv. I talked to Pavitr yesterday and our china plate gave me this, for you.” You say up looking down at the bag, a small container of handmade tea bags before looking back at Hobie you gave him a look of confusion. “Are these for us?” us, it was just for you y'know? But he wasn't exactly complaining, it put a smile on his face. “I guess they are darling, did you want some?”

He held up two teabags between his fingers staring at the strange colors mixing into each other as you tilted your head, you hummed with a nod giving him the go ahead, he got up moving towards you giving a small pat of your hair before scruffing it up, “Alright luv, I’ll go make you that Rosie Lee.” He turned to the door swinging it open moving to the kitchen hearing his footsteps, the running water, the sound of the gas stove turning on, the approaching footsteps back.

He came back in, sitting down at the end of your bed taking off his coat and throwing it onto the chair, “Damn Hen, ‘ya look like shi’ you dog and duck ‘ome one?” He raised a brow, leaning back letting his head hit the wall with a small thud, “Beach bunny.” You could feel him turn towards you, getting up, coming to your side softly grabbing your chin watching your small face slowly move in his hands as your half lidded eyes met his large narrow ones, “¡Puya! I ain’t fight no one, thats stupid and I’m not a fucking culero, you dick.” His hand moved from your chin to your cheek, you sat up at the movement wrapping your hand around his shutting your eyes and taking a breath, “Hobie, I promise I- I’m just sick.. nobody really needs to fight me..” You cleared your throat holding in your cough looking up at the tall guy sitting in front of you. Alright beach bunny, just let me get you some tea?”

Silence, comfortable silence. The taste of the sweet urban blend of sweet, earthy and floral flavors of the lukewarm tea and the AC’s cold air with your window cracked open, Miles wasn’t back yet it had been 20 minutes, for all you two knew he was out there being spiderman like always. “Where's ‘that bloke at?” Hobie raised a brow as he looked out the window, you and him had been sitting on your bed for a while doing absolutely nothing for a while other then mindlessly staring at your TV, “Who knows, probably getting yelled at by Miguel.” You whispered looking into your cup before chugging down the tea. “Beach bunny, come here for a ‘ec would ‘ya?” You scoot closer as he requests feeling his hand on your chin again your breath hitching slightly at the action before you see him move closer before feeling his lips on yours, his hands grabbing your cheeks before pulling away, “I ‘on’t care if I get sick, just for the record.” He remarks before laying you down on his lap “Now go to sleep you twat.”

#hobie x reader #fanfic #astv hobie #hobie brown #hobie x y/n #hobie x latina!reader #fanfiction #hobie x you #hobie my beloved #hobie x female reader #astv fanfic #FUUTASKAJIYAMAS

[futurecorps3]

I saw your Hobie x latina going going to the club para perrear and I loved it😭🤞🏼😩

BUT

Imagine Hobie going to a cantina with a mexican reader and just drink and hear corridos tristes (el video del vato que dice "porque que te quiero" y le meten el micrófono a la boca😭💀) or rather going to a cantina goes to her house and her family is making carne asada and drinking beer and there's literally a band in the party (soy norteña perdoname😭) and he is like "this food is bussing bussing" because he is British and their food is just "no good💖". At first he is nervous like he doesn't know what to do and at the end he is somehow riding a horse or he is playing with the band, he just loves it, the vibe and the food

(Love how you write 😭💖)

Hobie Brown meeting latina!reader's family <3

Masterlist <3

Ay hermana, soy chilanga we don't have horses up in this bitch😭 I tried to make it more general like Bee meeting your tías and primos but def adding the whole carne asada deal. (For my non-mexican readers, we call people from the city "chilangos" and northern people "norteños" and while we're from the same country, our experiences can be very different!). Also, tysm my dear, hope u like<3

-First off

-Giggling and kicking my feet 🤭

-Bro was persistent in meeting your family, and while you weren't exactly reluctant, you did have to warn him

-"Why not!? I want to meet your uncle Luis or- or Saúl!" He exclaims, recalling the stories you've told about your family members. "I'm not saying no, mi amor. I-It's just-" "What?" He grins, knowing you don't really have a solid argument. He kisses your pout and walks over to your room to get ready as you sigh, defeated by your pretty once more.

-Of course you wanted Bee to meet your family! But we all know how it can get at those big family gathering.

-One thing was meeting your parents, (which went by spectacularly, by the way) but him hanging out with your older tíos and younger primos was a whole other deal

-They aren't bad people, you love them dearly. It was the soft (hard and relentless) teasing (borderline bullying) you were worried about.

-It was easy to understand their humor when you grew up with heavy jokes, but Hobie would be new to all this. Plus, he was the first official boyfriend you'd introduce to the family! They were protective and honestly not afraid to show it.

-"Buenas tardes, Hobie Brown. Mucho gusto" you say slowly as you're both on the way to your tío's house, he repeats after you with a horrible accent. "Roll your r's!" You giggle, looking at him intently while softly showing him how to pronounce.

-He's really trying for you bestie </3

-Yeah he went blank after your aunt opened the door and dismissed his polite handshake with a bone-crushing hug.

-"Ay mija! He's so tall, I can barely hug him right. Pásenle, pásenle, Luis is in the garden with the kids. Welcome Hobie!"

-Bee just smiles and it widens when a horde of kids comes running down the hall and bolt towards you, saying hello to their favorite aunt and the strange bato she brought along.

-"Tía Y/N/N who is this?" Luisa (the youngest) asks, eyeing Hobie up and down with the sass of an old lady, making him suppress a laugh "Es tu novio?" now questions one of the boys, looking up at him amazed. "Hello brats" he smirks, high-fiving each and every one of your nieces and nephews excitedly.

-"You didn't tell me you were a tía already..." "Some of them will be by the age of sixteen, so I'm no rare event."

-Hobie is hard to lose on a crowd; all spikes, leather, chunky boots, and piercings

-Your nephews are thrilled.

-Asking all around about what his pins mean, if he finds it hard to walk with those boots, if he's not too hot with his jacket... you know, the type of questions kids ask.

-You laugh at him, trying to answer one question at a time patiently, and walk over to the table outside where your tíos, tías, primos, primas, cuñadas and some sobrinos were.

-"Y el novio mija?" Asks one of your tíos, already in a deffensive tone "He's inside con los niños, tío. Ahorita viene" you smile and promptly, Hobie walks through the door after the kids.

-The smokey scent of the carne asada filled his nostrils as soon as he walked outside, widening his eyes at how good it smelled. You walk over to him, grabbing his arm and smiling widely at your family

-"Les presento a Hobie, mi novio" you beam and your tíos can tell he truly makes you happy. "Yo no te di permiso, Y/N" one of them jokes, making everyone laugh and Bee follows after you translate for him.

-And he didn't like it but he really cared about their opinions

-He didn't give a single fuck of what other people had to say, but this was your family!!! He knew he was close and for the first time, strived for perfection

-The next few minutes were him trying really hard to memorize all the names, having a hard time pronouncing your aunt Rocio and Rosa's names.

-Everyone laughed at his attempts

-You sit between everyone at the large table, one of your tíos approaching you as you're too busy catching up with one of your cousins. Bee squeezes your hand to catch your attention, but you don't turn back to look at him, instead just squeeze back.

-He nervously places his hand out, and contrary to before, your uncle welcomes it. "Buenas tardes, Hobie" (oubi😭con acento mexa) "Buenas tardes, señor". God, did he rehearse that on the way...

-Your uncle seemed to appreciate him at least trying to talk to him in your mother tongue. He gave him kind of a smile and asked "Wanna help me with the asador over there?"

-Oh this was a test

-"Sure thing" he nods confidently even though he's shitting himself at the moment

-When he saw the carne asada let me tell you

-His mouth watered, heart eyes all over and he swore he was about to do that floating thing he's seen spider pig do

-Your tío taught him how to turn the steaks at the right time, after some aceite jumped and burnt him a bit :( your uncle could tell he was trying hard so he took it easy on him

-Personally? You fell in love all over again when he contained his tears the best he could at the smell and spice of the chiles floating so close to his nose <3

-You slapped his ass playfully when serving the food and he just smirked as your uncle side eyed you HARD

-“Bloody hell this shit is fucking amazing babe!” He almost moans when he bites into the taco of asada you made for him

-Your family might or might not know english but they know how bad words sound lmao

-They couldn’t blame him tho, not after he proved to love asada as much as them with the eight tacos he ate ☹️💕

-Him playing with the babies of your family bro :(

-He's so good with kids too

-I'm talking playing with them, having full conversations no matter how silly they got, following their train of thought and even making sure they weren't up to some stupid shit

-Girl, if you don't rail him stupid after that-

-He got along with your older cousins too!!! After all, they shared a similar taste in music and films so there was plenty to talk about

-Your tías chismeando with you about how handsome he is

-Let’s wrap it up, I got carried away and this is too damn long 😭

-He’s talking to one of your tías when the banda arrived at around 9 p.m

-My man is so confused please help him

-His spidey sense went off before the whole fucking commotion started lmao

-When he realized it was a live group playing and singing traditional music he lost his shit

-Asked you all about it!!! “What is that piano thing!?”, “What is he singing about?”, “Can I learn how to play that?”<3

-Eventually (and with no alcohol needed since he refused to risk doing some stupid shit with your family) he ended up dancing with your tía, her patiently teaching him how to move

-He had a hard time with his big ass boots but somehow managed!!

-Hobie was so happy when you went home ☹️ almost asking when you could come back and if you could cook some carne asada the same way your uncle (his best friend, he called him) did

-“Yo te amo mi amor” He smiled big, kissing you softly before falling asleep “Thanks for letting me meet your family… meant a whole lot y’know?” “‘Course corazón, seeing you there with everyone filled my heart with a joy I have rarely experienced”

-And with that you fell asleep, Hobie dreamt of asada and banda<3

#atsv hobie #hobie brown x latina!reader #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown x f!reader #hobie brown x hispanic reader #hobie brown angst #hobie brown #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown one shot #hobie brainrot #he’s my baby boy #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man across the spider verse #spiderman headcanon #hobie brown headcanons #hobie brown fanart

[felucians]

Hobie x Afro-mexicana!reader who's aesthetic is Mexicore

(Mexicore: The combination of Indigenous Latine/Mexican culture and alternative/scenemo/goth subcultures - created by Pierce The Veil - example of the fashion from @zamber_lamber on TikTok pictured as I am unable to find any afromexican examples online)

#woc #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #x woc!reader #x reader #x reader ideas #story concept #afro-latina #afro-latine #black!latina!reader #black!reader #mexicore #latina!reader #indigenous!reader #afroindigenous!reader #afro-indigenous #across the spider verse #atsv

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

It's time y'all.

Let's talk about HOBIE & RACE

- It is not problematic to say that Hobie would display black solidarity by finding black women in specific attractive.

- It is not problematic to say that Hobie would possibly like a partner who could understand his experiences with racism.

- It is not problematic to say he would possibly like a partner who understands how to take care of his hair, or shares the same hair texture.

- It is not problematic to say that Hobie would find beauty in features specific to the black race - when we have been told those features are undesirable in every way for centuries.

We gotta talk about how Colorblindness is forced on Black Characters - Hobie in Specific

Y'all - it's time we have a VERY VERY overdue conversation about Hobie Brown and Race.

Because it is a necessary one.

Hobie Brown, The Black!Reader, & Representation -

aka Black people are not Colorblind - and neither is Hobie Brown -

[let Diane hop on the mic right quick Chile]

Stop acting like Black Fictional Characters would be colorblind.

Black people can't be colorblind, because our color is weaponized against us from birth. We HAVE to see race - because we have to protect ourselves and know our own history

So when we decide to make spaces specifically for us - spaces where black people and black women in specific can be desired and uplifted, I don't see why people have a problem with it.

Hobie Brown loves, yes. But he also lives in 1978. Racial segregation was outlawed in his country in 1965.

Hobie Brown loves, but he's also a black guy who grew up under racial segregation and racism. He's a black guy who fights cops.

The Writers made Spiderpunk - The Spiderperson who fights oppressive cops - black for a REASON.

The Writers chose to have a black guy save Miles for a REASON. To uplift black people.

Writers here on Tumblr made Black!Readers black for same reason.

If Black Lives Matter doesn't mean White Lives Don't Matter -

Then 'Hobie Brown finds black chicks especially attractive' DOESN'T mean 'white women are unattractive'. This isn't about y'all.

And even for the people that say Hobie would like ONLY black people - okay??? They can say that - it's a literal headcanon.

It's not true if you don't want it to be. You don't have to believe it.

But seeing Black people be protective of a black character, and making black content for other black fans - and then saying 'what - stop that. that's wrong. break this up so I can join'

BEFORE you question why they do it - NOT COOL.

That's like asking for more Captain America in Black Panther. Like ?????

That's like hearing a Riot Grrrl say 'All the women to the front!!' and going 'Uhh, all genders are equal, why can't the men stand in the front too?'

Like yes, all genders are equal. But also - This isn't about them. It's about representation.

Stop preaching equality when we're asking for representation.

Cause there are dozens, hundreds, of white characters who only have white on-screen romances.

And their fandoms do not write black!readers. They do not care enough to say 'oh the show isn't representing this, let us do it.'

The media nor the fandom represent black women. They are an afterthought, always.

And you never see posts for them like -

'Dean Winchester loves black women. Dean Winchester loves latinas -'

When it's a white character only dating white women, with xReaders that always imply whiteness, y'all never call for diversity. At all.

You wouldn't make this post for Miguel.

But when it's a black character and someone suggests they only date black women, or people begin to write xReaders that imply blackness instead of your default-

Suddenly you care about diversity.

Because the first time, you're not represented.

Because let's be honest. Let's be real. No one is writing Hobie x White!Reader. Barely anyone is writing Hobie x Latina!Reader.

It's the Black!Reader you have a problem with. Let's just say it.

Allow black people to have their space, without unfairly calling for 'diversity'.

(aka the right to access to black safe spaces, comfort characters, and labor)

Hobie is an attractive, educated black guy who fights and protects people from the aggressors we ourselves genuinely fear everyday.

He is a character like we've never had before. He has so much emotional weight to us.

Let us enjoy him as we please. We aren't hurting anyone else.

We're just not catering to you. We don't have to.

If a black person wants to center Hobie's love on Black people, they have the right.

And I'm not saying you can't write him with a race neutral or even a White!Reader. Go ahead and write that if you want but just know-

1) If you want to write him with an explicitly white or non-black reader - you should approach the topic of race. You should approach and mention the cultural differences. Him going through racism. Don't erase that because you think it makes your writing ugly or sad.

And if you don't put it in, your erasing the reality and black experience because you find something wrong or uncomfortable about it.

2) If you want to write a race neutral reader - make sure they're really race neutral. Don't include details about hair texture, hairstyle, or skin color.

3) If you are asking black writers for requests - do not get mad if they make the request Black.

You cannot get mad at a black writer for interjecting their own experience when writing about a black character. You're basically asking them to strip their blackness from their writing so you can enjoy it more.

Why should they have to second guess and dial back their blackness when we're expected to do that everywhere? If they want to take a break, and write Black!Readers they can.

3) Understand that the black people are going to keep their safe spaces. And they're going to keep Hobie in their corner.

Because honestly, and I'm going to put this brazenly:

Hobie Brown as a character - and what he represents - means more to black fans than it does nonblack fans.

Does that mean he doesn't matter to y'all? No, not at all. Hobie absolutely holds real emotional weight and meaning to you on multiple levels.

But please understand, for black people - we connect to Hobie on an emotional, often trauma-fueled front.

One that you'll never understand.

There is a level that we connect with him on that nonblack people can't. As a dark skinned black guy, a black guy with natural hair, an alt black guy,

As a black guy who has canonically faced police brutality on-screen

To you, this screenshot is most likely Hobie flipping the camera off, edgy and punk. It's funny, tongue in check. ACAB and all that.

To us, this screenshot is of Hobie - a low income black guy - being physically restrained by police and refusing to stop even when they're taking his mugshot. It's a black guy openly flipping off the police and fighting them off and refusing to go down no matter how much they beat him and he's winning YES

After so many videos over SO many years of cops doing that to black men and them.. not winning.

And them just dying and us having to watch. And add another name to list.

When you see his laces, you most likely think ACAB.

When we see his laces, we see that he's a black man who took on a cop and lived to tell the tale. Which is a RARITY.

Because many of them lose the battle.

For us, the context and connection are completely different.

Fanfiction may just be a way for you to kiss up on random characters or comfort yourself, but for us - that's not the case.

For us, fanfiction is a way to show our experiences and features in a media and world that has collectively ignored them. Shunned them, called them ugly.

Maybe make a post or send an ask to a creator - and ask what Black!Readers mean for them, why they find it important.

Hobie Brown likes Black Girls.

He finds them beautiful. He likes wide lips and broad noses and kinky hair. He loves melanin, and brown skin in the sunlight, and seeing a them in a silk bonnet in the morning.

He loves not having to explain his culture, sharing coconut oil and shea butter. He likes seeing waist beads. He likes people who speak AAVE, with twang in their talk.

He likes ghetto black girls with the acrylic nails. He likes Stallions 6 foot tall. He likes masc girls. And fem ones. He loves black nonbinary people because we do not have to cosign to colonialist ideas of gender. And he loves him some black men too - a good fade will make him go crazy, he loves men with long locs and pretty smiles.

Hobie Brown finds the beauty in Black People that have been erased and demonized again and again by White Society.

Hobie Brown holds blackness dear. And he wants black people to do well.

Hobie Brown loves Black People. Hobie Brown loves Black Girls.

And that's on, what?

This has been a PSA from Diane Pastors. Y'all stay blessed out there 😌💗

Anyway what y'all wearing to carnival since we going to carnival and cropover and labor day with Hobie and bringing out all the flags. 🇧🇧🇧🇧 I'm bringing him to cropover in Barbados yeah I said it we're all going to carnival with him.

#spiderman #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #atsv #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #racism #antiblackness #antiblack #anti black #hobie x reader #hobie x black!reader #Hobie x you #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x you

[kirbyskisses]

hi, hello, hola so i already knew that hobie is 6’3 but was anyway going to tell me miguel is 6’9 because holy fuck.

#i need him carnally #oh god - OH GOD #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #smut #x plus size reader #x latina!reader #x black reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown

[gowonminajxx]

— bed time.

a miguel o’ hara fic ~ part 2 here

— NSFW miguel o’ hara x fem!reader

you are mayday’s babysitter. miguel insists on drinks after mayday falls asleep and is picked up by peter. for a quick summary, it leaves you in his bed.

\\ quick A/N :: this is my 3rd tumblr post woohoo ^^ thank u for recognition on my last post abt hobie brown. i’m glad to be writing my first miguel fic on here!! enjoy and have a great feast on this long fic 😭

// CWs :: drinking alcohol, swearing, extreme smut w/ plot, groping, biting (vampire kink?)

-- 2.17k word count

// other notes :: i’m latina myself ! although i am not fluent in spanish, so please correct me if anything is wrong 🎀🎀

“ que linda — how cute / pretty

miumiulicious 2023.

mayday’s stubby arms wrapped around your shoulder, her hands landing on your back as you carried her to her crib. a small smile flashed on your face as she giggled and made cute little sounds at you, something you couldn’t ever say no to.

what stunned you is that miguel o’hara, the man who had been paying you to babysit this child, wasn’t even the parent. a man named peter was. you had caught small glimpses of him before, a middle aged man, slightly chubby on the stomach .. yada yada.

so instead of miguel taking care of mayday, he decided to pay someone, anyone, to carry around and change diapers for a little small baby who people like miguel would call a demon from the pits of hell. he made a stern, cold face whenever he was put on duty. not like his face was like that all the time.

this was only your second time babysitting mayday. you had seen miguel the first time, but only for a minute. he had given you your pay, and you left without another word. it was simple work, you thought. taking care of a small child like this was no problem. until last night.

you set down mayday in her crib, her small back hitting the cushion beneath her. a floral pattern on the cushion decorated it, while her binky laid on the side.

you shut off the light after stroking your hand through her hair, which she instantly fell asleep to. you walked out the room without a singular noise, traveling towards the kitchen.

you sat down at the dining table, checking your phone. there was a few messages from your friends who were out of town, but besides that, it was practically just tumbleweeds blowing away on your phone. a sigh escaped your lips, slightly bored, and as if on cue, a tall man opens the door with a click.

he’s muttering something to himself before he sees you, his eyes instantly widening. it’s miguel, you thought. the man who pays you — the money man? a small smile grows on your face as a welcoming sign for him, and he softly smiles back.

“hello, y/n. is everything .. okay with mayday?” his voice is calm and soothing compared to other times where you’ve caught him yelling into a piece of technology. miguel’s face softens up compared to when he first opened the door, his eyebrows lowering a little, his jaw unclenching.

you nod in response. “yeah, i actually just put her to sleep.” your head turns towards the small room you had just walked out of, indicating mayday was dead asleep behind that door, sleeping like there was no tomorrow.

miguel nodded, pausing before he responded lowly. “good..” hesitating before he added on quickly, almost as if he was already urging to ask. “..would you like a drink or two?” his thick hand gestured to the kitchen, and your eyes followed before they gravitated back to his dark brown ones.

“sure! haven’t drank in a little anyways.” you murmured the last bit, before he walked off into the kitchen to grab two glasses for the rest of the night.

he grabs whiskey, placing ice cubes in both of your glasses and pours you a little lighter of a glass than his. you would think he’s a strong drinker, but he was quite the opposite. you discovered this by the time he was on his 2nd glass.

his words slurred, seemed like his vision was hazy as you nodded along awkwardly. when is the alcohol gonna hit so this can stop being so awkward? you screamed in your head. a little part of you found it a little cute how weak of a drinker miguel was, despite his strong build and attitude.

his hand would often reach over on top of yours, his arm covering a side of the table as he squeezed your hand roughly. you smiled nervously, sipping your drink slowly as he babbled on and on about his job, a kid he had been chasing, peter, mayday, and all these random topics you barely paid attention to.

you took the first move. your chair slid as you got up, a small screech noise being made from the friction. you placed your empty glass on the table, while you spoke.

“i’m gonna leave now, do you mind paying me? i have to get back home to ..” you hesitated, before adding on a little quicker than you thought you could. “.. my family. they need me to help out with the kids too.. so.” you chuckled nervously, letting the lie slip out from your mouth.

his eyes observantly lingered on your lips, a spark of lust igniting in his irises. his jaw clenched as he tapped the hard glass with his finger before replying surprisingly calmly.

“well if you really have to leave ..” miguel answered, his voice coming lowly from his throat. his finger tapped on his temple while he added on.

“could you at least have another drink with me?”

you stared at him, completely frozen, your legs still spread apart from when you were trying to walk away from this. your eyes darted towards your empty glass. no second thoughts were given, and you decided to sit down with miguel for another drink — even if he was wasted already just by two.

while the two of you drank your last glass together, miguel had asked you personal questions about your relationships. did you have a boyfriend? a girlfriend? were you seeing someone? do you have a sex partner? he would ask all of these questions in the exact order, your face feeling like a bonfire having sticks thrown in it each and every second.

you trembled upon your answers each response, and he seemed to be amused by how flustered you were. you didn’t seem to notice the amount of red tint that had appeared on your face. he squeezed your hand gently whenever he felt like it, almost as if he was trying to comfort you. yet he wanted one thing from you, and only you.

as you stood up after your glass emptied, he stood up with you, his hand now resting on your hip. miguel placed down his glass on the table, a small clink sound being made. his hand reached into his pocket of his jeans, rummaging through for a paycheck. his head tilted downwards when he realized it wasn’t there, but somewhere else.

“sorry, but the paycheck is in my bedroom. silly, silly me.” he chuckled before walking to the bedroom down the hall, and you followed. a huge load of thoughts ran through your head as you followed him, mainly just dirty thoughts about sex and other things that could happen in this man’s room. tonight. you only thought about these things because he was wasted, a weak drinker who’s eyes lingered on you unusually in a seductive way.

you whooshed those thoughts away with one click of a door as he closed the door behind you two, walking over to his desk in the bedroom. a small desk, where he rummaged through his drawer and pulled out a small piece of paper. the paycheck he had prewritten.

your hands landed behind your back, fingers intertwining as he walked towards you, not paying any mind to a sense of personal space. his hand landed on your hip as his other gestured towards you, giving you the paycheck. a smile raised nervously on your face as reaction to the physical contact between you two.

miguel’s eyes narrowed, staring at how you shook underneath him. a perfect target for him, a perfect stress toy. his hand gravitated up to your waist, before landing on your side boob, his hand completely covering your clothed tit.

you shuddered, your face going red as his large hand had completely lost track of where it was going and immediately went to your tit. your mind was fogging. miguel’s irises swiveled as he stared up at you, his head tilted a little to the side. how amusing was it to him for you to be absolutely shaking underneath his touch, especially on your clothed breasts?

you stared up at him, before mentioning his name for a place of reassurance. you were freaking out at the amount of physical contact between you two, and the fact miguel was moving so fast. he opened his lips once in response.

“y/n.. que linda.” his eyebrows furrowed as his hand travelled further to your boobs, his other hand working on tucking the paycheck underneath your belt, keeping it steady. miguel had only done that so his hand could gravitate towards your other tit, as his hips got closer to yours — practically touching.

his hands began massaging gently with your breasts, a small grin raising on his face while he did so. his hazy vision seemed like it didn’t exist, considering he played with you so intricately, his wide thumbs rubbing over just the right places.

“que linda..” he repeated himself, slurring underneath his breath that reeked of alcohol. miguel’s body closed the gap between you two, as his head leaned in over your shoulder, towering over you.

a grin crossed his face as you let out a soft gasp, his hands massaging a little more hard now, practically squeezing your breasts. miguel kept one strong hand on your tit while the other went down to your backside, groping your ass as you gasped further.

he began pecking your neck with soft kisses, before leaving hickeys and small bites. you had been bit before during intimacy, but not like this — these bites from miguel felt a lot sharper than usual. almost as if the man was a vampire. your thoughts seemed to be confirmed by a sudden sucking sound.

you felt your head go a little light as he absorbed some of the blood, licking his fangs slowly and sensually, lifting his head up so you could observe. your vision felt a little blurred, because he had practically just drained you. he’d be draining you some more later of things other than blood if you didn’t realize that already.

he stayed silent, before engaging in a deep kiss with you, his tongue instantly inserting inside your mouth before you tugged on his bottom lip. your tongues massaged against each others, swiveling and swirling like it was some sort of playground. your hands travelled.

you cupped miguel’s cheeks with your smaller hands, his head tilting into the kiss as his stronger hands gripped onto your hips. he began tugging on the waistband of your pants, smiling into the kiss.

miguel pulled away from the kiss, and it seemed like you were a little thirsty for more, as you continued kissing him on his cheek and neck. the two of you panted and heaved for air, like you went on a mile run in the desert. he picked you up into his arms. your legs wrapped around his tiny waist, your crotch against his lower stomach as you were now towering over him.

your soft lips pushed against his into another passionate kiss, making out before he walked backwards into the bed, taking a seat so you were now in his lap. his hands travelled up and down your back sensually, feeling every single bit of you rippling due to his touch.

he held onto your ass, squeezing it a little before taking the kiss further, aggressively tugging on your bottom lip. he rolled over so you were on the bottom, your legs still wrapped around his waist for safety. miguel stood in between your legs.

he seemed to be in a rush, but the only rush he was in for your body to be on full display for him.

miguel took his big hands to your clothing, ripping off your shirt — causing you to let out a gasp in response, your eyes widening. he wasn’t being careful whatsoever, his hands traveling to now unzip your pants in a hasty speed, pulling them down fully. his hands ripped apart your panties, tearing them down in the middle with a loud thrrrrip sound.

you gawked, your mouth hanging open as he smirked slightly, his fangs peeking out his mouth and over his lips a little. miguel’s eyes wandered around your entrance area, staring at the nakedness of your folds right in front of him. he put a finger to the middle of your clit, causing you to let out a soft muted whimper.

“so wet already for me, huh?” he chuckled lowly, his words still slurred as his eyes continued traveling around your body. his thirst and hunger grew further and further every single second he took a glimpse at each part of your body. your tits. your waist. your hips. and especially your needy little clit, which was already decorated in your own wetness. he pulled his finger back, slipping it in his own mouth for a quick taste.

“why don’t we deal with that?” he quickly added on, before unzipping his pants slowly.

urrrghhh i didn’t want it to be too long so i have to make this a 2 part fic!!!! thank u for reading abt the sexy irish latino papi ‼️

i’ll link part 2 HERE when i finish it! hopefully it doesn’t take long cuz y’know .. i love miguel 😭😭😭😭

#miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #atsv smut #atsv x you #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man 2099 x you #smut #miumiulicious #Spotify

[honestsycrets]

Amor y Respeto II: Corazón [Miguel O'Hara x Reader]

chapter I: mi alma

❛ pairing | miguel o’hara x reader

❛ type | continuation of one shot.

❛ summary | you're trying to forget miguel with hobie's help on the field. but miguel isn't quite ready to let go.

❛ tags | jealousy, latina reader, slightly nsfw (only nudity), spanish is not translated, some mention of blood and wounds, violence, some paranoia, miguel is not pleased, an attempt was made at british slang, some creative liberties.

❛ sy’s notes | gif credit to aehanse. a little reference to gilgamesh with a golden bull in this chapter because i wanted a simple anomaly and for some reason a golden bull just makes me giggle a bit.

Miguel only left Nueva York for very important reasons. Very important reasons usually entailed a little stress relief at the end of a very stressful day. Very important reasons like your gentle fingertips running over his sweaty chest. Very important reasons like your plush lips wrapped around his--

“No chance,” Lyla chittered in his ear. “There’s the whole ‘I don’t love you’ thing. And that kiss?” 

A headache was brewing: everything twinkled, glistened, and refracted light.

“I was there, Lyla. Could do without the reminder.” 

“Really because--” 

“I can fix it,” Miguel growled, clawing past the tall buildings rife with beautiful flowers. It was your favorite time of year. The perfect time to go to the balcony and wait for him to follow behind, to pick off the yellow pollen that dusted his burnt umber hair.

When he finally breached your plant-filled balcony, the window was open despite his warnings to keep it closed. You loved the light and drew the blinds open day by day to let in the bright light of the day. In contrast, he could have done without the bright light streaming in during his early morning visits. That wasn’t wholly the issue. The issue was anyone who wanted to watch you sleep in your love-rustled sheets could. He could.

Miguel’s hands hooked on his slender hips. He glanced at the offensive presence of a singular powdery pink rose in a vividly graffitied cup that he hadn’t given you. He didn't need to guess to know who had. As your shorthair cat trotted into your bedroom, he realized that the rest of the apartment was empty. He wouldn’t be mewing at him if you were singing in the kitchen and making cookies that he shouldn’t eat. It's little, you would guilt him and squish a bite-sized morsel in his mouth. 

Miguel jerked his head to the side and threw a look at Lyla. She threw up her hands in response. They came to the same conclusion. “The roof?” 

There wasn't a worse time to climb the last few floors of your apartment. Light battered his senses as the sun crested past the rooftops of your city and emitted pastel crystal hues. Soon, the night would fall on your busy city and cloak it in darkness. In the darkness, problems always arose.

"Se dice-- never mind, it's a pastellio," you brushed off the small chunks of crystal that nipped at your forearms and picked a chunk up off of a paper-thin napkin. The crumbly remnants held their own memories. Memories of your fingers sealing pastry dough over a cool picadillo, arguing about the quality of HQ cafeteria’s empanadas all by yourself despite knowing that he liked them. They didn’t taste the same lately.

“Tastes like a meat pie,” Hobie waggled a crusty corner. “Must be a meat pie.” 

You brought the rim of an opaque brown glass bottle to your lips. The malt drink coursed down your throat slowly, leaving your throat cool and refreshed. Just the way you wanted to feel after a long day of work. “If that’s a meat pie, this is beer.” 

Hobie-- Miguel sneered. There had some alternative, impure reason he was here. Maybe it was to piss him off, to distract him from the work really at hand. If that was it, he lamented, he was doing a good job. Why else would he be here?

“A kiddy beer,” he flicked over one of his empty beer bottles. “Listen. You coming to see the concert?” 

“Whose?” 

“Mines, who else?” he answered. “Gwen’ll be there.” 

“It’s not really my scene, Hobie,” you said. “Don't you think I’m a bit old for that sort of thing?” 

“Old?” Hobie chirped after you. You swayed under the force of his playful punch to your shoulder and returned one to his willowy arm. Your eyes turned back to the crystalized sun dipping beneath the horizon. He sucked his tongue against the roof of his tongue. “Letting that muppet shoot his cum in ya is the only thing that’s gonna make you old. Complicit. You wanna be complicit?” 

“¡Fo! Gross, stop,” you dropped your drink to the side and flopped back onto the unforgiving concrete roof. But he had a point, your palm migrated over your belly. His spunk was probably still wiggling around in your stomach. Miguel simpered in the shadows.

“You never see these autocrats for who they are," he lamented.

“It has nothing to do with… Hobie. Hobie, my love isn’t politic--”

“Everything is political.” 

“Hobie, I take care of him-- them,” you motioned to your city, glittering in the fading sunlight. “For love and laughter. That’s what we all deserve. Love and laughter. Miguel wants it too, he’s just,” Incapable or unwilling, you suppressed. “Complicated.” 

“Complicated,” Hobie spat out as though it offended him. “It ain't complicated to me. He don’t love you. Half the time he don’t even like you.” 

“But I love him.” 

“His love? It ain’t enough.” 

“It matters to me.” 

A low growl emanated from his deep chest. It was enough to cause your heads to wrack around in his direction. Miguel steeled his body against the wall he dangled from, shielded in the dark crystally shadows of a mural.

“Should we--” you stared at the wall, eyes narrowing.

Fuck.

“Ain’t nothing to be worried about. Probably a rat— a big rat,” Hobie lurched over your body. His long and lanky arms caged your body beneath him. It was a universe apart from Miguel’s well-corded arms, broad and strong. Arms that, at the moment, Miguel used not to spring off the wall.

“It’s his muscles.”

“¡Ay cállate! Why is it always his muscles?” You ruptured into laughter and reached up to push him away by his thick wicks. You crawled out from underneath Hobie and stretched out your arms behind your back. Tension unwound from Miguel with an exhale of stale air from his lungs.

“You got a type,” Hobie lazed his elbow over his knee. 

“You don’t know any of my exes, Hobie,” you swept up your trash and covered your head with your rebozo-like cowl. At that exact moment, your watch blared. “And you ain’t know mine, either.”

“Vente, Corazón. I have a call.”

Corazón?

“Can’t handle it yourself?” Hobie hopped up and adjusted his guitar, slouching off his shoulder. 

“Just because I can, doesn't mean I have to,” you took a step to the edge of the rooftop. You turned your hands up. “C'mon, I’ll even make you cookies.” 

Make him cookies. You would change out of your blood-smattered outfit into a little slip to make Hobie, a man that you knew he had a very poor opinion of, cookies. A man that was reckless in life, reckless in HQ, and would not take orders that didn’t benefit his perception of the world. His breathing hitched, heavy and sharp, to keep his rage in check. If you respected him, you would never invite Hobie anywhere near your apartment. Especially not at night. What were you thinking? 

“That your way of keeping me for the night?” Hobie asked. “Think I’ll get lucky?”

“Is it working?” 

You looked Hobie over once, starting at his boots and ending at Hobie’s pierced lip. Your lips budded in a terrible smile. A look that Miguel did not like, not at all. You turned and stepped off the building, out of his field of vision. Hobie followed soon after.

The sun faded far past the horizon, cloaking Miguel in solitary indigo darkness. His fingers teased the ochre face of his watch-- he had things to do.

You didn’t need backup. 

You crawled out of the rubble of one of your favorite flower shops. Bits of lavender crystal embedded in your arm drew blood down your arm. As of late, it felt as though you couldn’t do anything right. Hobie was a consistent fixture in your life and fixed the amateur mistakes you were making day by day without mentioning your incompetence. He was good to you.

This time was different. You recognized this anomaly from another time, but not another place. It was here, at the intersection of Cereza and Trini, that months ago that Miguel and you-- No, you did not need backup. You didn’t need him.

The thick, muscular leg of the stupid bull stormed by. The thing was comically obnoxious. Just as obnoxious as the ache in your chest every morning when you woke up alone in your bed with Miguel visiting… not even once in the past few days. You wondered if he even thought of you.

“Miss Spider lady, are you okay?” a little girl with thick brown pom-pom puff hair and the warmest caramel eyes asked. Usually, she sold singular flowers at the cash register of her parent’s shop. You hated to think what hardship would come to them because of your inadequacy. If you could control your emotions, as Miguel rang true, this never would have happened.

“Si, si, Zaniah,” your head spun with the pain radiating from your side. You broke something, and of course, it wasn’t healing. You blamed him. Your feet stumbled forward in a line. You didn’t want to see the headlines of this one. Most spiders dealt with villains worth the name, villains with prowess. You? A shiny fucking bull from heaven. “No te preocupes, go, go.” 

“Mami, mami!” the little girl shrieked and bolted, her flowy purple cape dissipated as she disappeared into the back. You felt bad for the mother that would have to deal with that for the next few days as you broke into a run, flexing your wrist for webbing. 

If you could just-- trip the damn thing. Then, somehow, with enough time you could… oh, you didn’t know, bind its legs? Or bind its legs first then tip? But where would you even tip without casualties? Maybe, if you were lucky, you could lure it to the river-- but that was on the outskirts of town. You were running out of time. You had to deal with it. Had to. What would that little girl think? What would Miguel think? 

“You sure you don’t need backup?” Lyla asked, her gilded frame bending at the waist. "Because you look like you need backup."

“Si,” you hissed. “I am sure, Lyla. I don’t need anyone. And I especially don't need Miguel. I got this.” 

Your red boots connected with its fuzzy back. Its great, golden chain skid across the concrete floor, emitting an awful hissing noise. You seized its collar and jammed your heels into its back to try and force the thing to heel. It wasn’t. Despite your strength, you weren’t strong enough to do it on your own. The pressure on the side of your rib cage was becoming immense. Breathing became a chore. 

“No you don’t,” she sang. 

It was moments later that the bull howled pitifully. It slid on its side, crunching old cars and taking out rusty street lamps under its thick muscle. Despite digging your heels in, the damn thing whirled you off like a children’s dreidel. The force of the impact thrust you off its back and into a rusty tow truck. The pain burned low in your back. Hobie: to the rescue again. At some point, you were going to have to give him something better than cookies.

“Get up,” rasped your backup, cloaked in vast dark blue and red. Not Hobie, then. Your hazy eyes were playing tricks on you. You heaved out rattly breaths as you obeyed, or tried to obey the dumb big man in your life.

It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. Heavy and hard, your limbs fought the attempt to move. Before you could complain a minute further about how fucking infuriating it was to have him run to your aid, your world eclipsed into the darkness. 

You woke up with a pulsing headache and the very unwelcome sight of Jess. Through her yellowy glasses, you recognized her colorful kaleidoscope of emotions: annoyance, derision, and eventually… relief. It wasn’t the infirmary. The bed was too comfortable for that. You quickly realized that you were in his room with nothing but one of his annoying tech bandages mummified to your chest. You knew from that alone that you were in for it-- if not for her face becoming increasingly more stoic. They should have been siblings.

“You needed backup,” her arms encircled her belly. “Didn’t you?” 

Your eyes fell to the soft sheets that tickled your skin. Breathing was still hard, harder with the anxiety of knowing a lecture was headed your way. You couldn’t lie to Jess. Tears pricked your cheeks and you tried to steel your heart from them.

It was impossible. His room overwhelmed you: from his rich scent that perfumed the sheets you laid on to the air you breathed. He was close by. That alone was more stress than you could handle.

“I know Jess. I needed backup. Pero, the anomaly, it was-- I thought I could handle it.” 

“Pero nothing,” she held a gloved hand up. “Girl, I don’t need your excuses.” 

“But I’ve called Hobie too much this week.” 

“Is Hobie the only one here? You could have called me. Or-- and I’m just being crazy here. Miguel? Your man?” she rolled her head toward the back of the room. She must not have heard. You followed her gaze to where he stood, his uniform flopped unceremoniously about his waist. Your heart strummed and skipped a beat. With her words, Miguel turned his eyes up from the wound at his waist-- to your eyes. They pierced your heart in the darkness. He would have come.

“You know what? I’ll just leave you two alone.” 

“No, no, no Jess, por favor--” She left without another word. Punishment in its own right. Your hand approached your chest, covering your cleavage from his sight. His hand swayed over the pad to lock the door shut. 

Your head dropped back on his flat pillows. Whether it was the bundles of discomfort at his presence or actual shots of pain, the awkward silence was growing increasingly too much for you to handle. He brought you here, into his bed, for a reason you couldn’t understand. You both were done. Finished. Miguel didn’t seem to think so.

“You act as if I haven’t seen you naked before.”

Maybe, he had seen you naked before. He had no right to anymore. You opened your eyes to look at him, noting the strong scent of sweat permeating his skin and the warm sheen that dusted his chest. You had your increased senses to thank for that. You swallowed air in forceful gulps and burrowed painful shockwaves in your chest. If nothing else, you could at least swallow pain with some honor.

Everything that Miguel did had a purpose. You couldn’t help but eye the way his thumbs looped around his waistband to draw his pants lower, freeing his swarthy skin from indigo fabric. Your eyes fell on his flaccid cock that sat on a tuffet of his thick black pubic hair, chased the curve sight of his shapely ass, and settled on his strong rideable thighs. It was the least egregious sight to stare at. He slipped the suit over his shoulder, raising his brown brows in unison. 

“And as if you haven’t seen me naked before, either.” 

“It… it’s been a while.” Your eyes darted past his figure to the door. You were sure it was locked.

"Has it really?" Miguel threw out as he disappeared into his bathroom. For a moment, you debated running. Your heart ached with the knowledge that he would just come to find you. He left knowing that you would not disobey him because, after everything, you respected his wishes. 

What Miguel's wishes were today was up for debate. The only thing you were sure of was the gentle pitter-patter of water droplets, the steam that emanated from the bath, and his lofty figure swaying in the distance. The warm certainty that filled your body knowing that he would come back to bed. Because that’s what Miguel did when you were hurt: he paid attention. 

He came back into the room nude, ruffling his hair with a fluffy towel. You couldn’t convince yourself to act as if you were asleep. His presence shattered any illusion of ignoring him, even with the expressionless way he considered you tonight. He was utterly intolerable.

After an eternity boxed in with your thoughts, reality came as Miguel, a smooth wall of muscle, clambered into the bed. The bed shifted under Miguel’s weight. Just as you predicted, the warmth of his chest was against your slight back and his large palm was flat against your stomach. 

You broke up with him for a reason, you broke up with him for a reason— Miguel didn’t seem to care about those delicate details. He caressed your neck with his nose. His lips dragged over your unmarked skin. As certain as a clock was to click, your body became slick with anticipation. You knew he could tell. 

You were weak. Weak out there. Weak in here. Weak everywhere.

“You smell… different.”

“Miguel, por favor,” you breathed, thready and thin. “It’s just Hobie.”

“Hobie?” he growled. Miguel’s hand encompassed the large space of your belly. Your legs shifted as Miguel held you a little firmer. You expected his hand to move lower, but he didn’t.

“Hm. Why would it be Hobie?” he asked, his voice dripping dangerously low. “Is there something I should know, Corazón?”

“No, I, no,” you stammered. He knew. Though you said the words, they felt cut off from what you were saying. As though the threat of his rejection took over all the confidence in your world. "You were watching?"

You turned in his arms to face him. His forehead creased in disapproval. You opted to press your forehead against his, running your nose against his, breath puffing his lips.

"You thought I wouldn't," he said. His eyes spun with sharpness, searching your face for evidence of the truth. As though he were asking if you’d been unfaithful despite the breakup. Your face was always pitifully easy to read. Even with the breakup, he could read your intentions as clearly as the words on his lab screens.

"I didn't think you cared."

You were used to a Miguel who crept into your bedside window, slunk into your bed, and woke you up from your slumber with the weight of his body between your legs. A Miguel that only had time for brief moments of pleasure and successful results. This Miguel was different.

"You know I do."

And there it was. He pushed himself free of the bed in search of pants. You watched him pull them over his ass before he flopped into the one chair in the middle of his room, head in his hand. Lyla, he rumbled something under his breath you couldn’t quite hear. Your senses were dull, something you equated to the exhaustion and sleepiness that threatened to overtake you at any given moment. 

“Something is different. And it isn’t him,” he sneered. 

You missed the warmth of his body against yours. The ginger way he touched you just moments before. After days of being without his touch, you missed the simple things. Like the way he touched you. The way he focused on you alone in a room full of others. You hated yourself for craving it. You made a choice. Why couldn’t you stick with it? 

“What did I do wrong now?” Your tongue felt thick and heavy in your mouth. It was the very cottonmouth you feared you would have when telling Miguel about Gwen and Miles. Your mind was too hazy to rationalize what you possibly could have done this time. Miguel would always be an impenetrable castle, one you could admire from afar but never enter. 

“Nothing!” He snapped. You recoiled from the shrill in his voice. Miguel ran his hand through his hair, easing his tone down to a murmur. He threw you a small, bittersweet glance. Almost a smile. “Muñeca, you did nothing wrong. Get some rest.” 

He sat there a moment longer. A frown grew on his lips as Miguel stood up and walked toward the door. After one, two, then three attempts to open the door, his closed fist slammed a hole into the siding. It finally whirled open and allowed him to exit. It left you in the sea of silence that was his dark room. You never liked waking up in his room alone. It was bare, too bare, for anyone to live in. You worried that his mind was just like that.

“Lyla? Lyla, I want to go home.” 

It was a long time-- too long-- before she answered. “You should sleep.” 

And though she advised that, it was a restless night.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel/reader #miguel o'hara/reader #across the spiderverse imagine #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #atsv x you #atsv x reader

[st-armand]

Plug!Hobie x Fem!Reader Part 2

Authors Note: Vomited this out because I couldnt stop thinking about him <3, I was going to add perverted hobie a touch in there but opted to save it for another time.

Content Warnings: black reader, fem reader, drug use, use of the n word once, weed smoking, suggestive

Masterlist • Part 1

You message Hobie within the hour,

“Hey punk boy pull up here to get your food and shit.”

“Punk boy?” “Alright I’ll be ‘here soon”

You gave him the location of a train station a block away from your home, Hobie has no issues with not knowing your place, he’s seen the neighborhood, one that was here before the V.E.N.O.M. occupation, a remnant of old NYC.

Hobie arrives quicker than expected, not only because he can carelessly swing throughout the city, but he’s embarrassingly excited to get the chance to talk to you alone.

When Hobie throws you a text that he’s here, you jump up anxiously assuming you’d have a bit more time to get acclimated.

You throw on some slides and your adidas track pants to hurry to the station with a reusable shopping bag carrying 4 containers of food and the cash nestled inside a cute baggie you found lingering in your home.

He’s trying to be as inconspicuous as he can despite the fact the sticks out like a sore thumb, a random punk, and while he is black and easily fits into the community racially and ethnically, he knows he can be seen as an easy lick, especially to petty criminals and gang members who think they can size him up, he doesn’t want to get pressed with weed on him, even if he’s prepared to fight it’s still inconvenient for him. He leans on a bus stop pole (You know the exact lean I’m talking about too) back pressed and slightly arched, shirt riding up his abdomen.

When you do finally spot his lanky ass you’re mesmerized by his effortless persona, you wonder if you could ever have a mask as unshakable as his. He does see you staring, his eyes find you easily in at the busy intersection filled with food carts, fruit and vegetable stands, and of course elderly Latinas selling snacks, and all kind of cold treats for the muggy day.

When you do come up to him you’re not too sure how to break the ice, every possible starter interaction feels forced, uncomfortable or uptight, but you try anyway, you want your weed, you want to go home, and you kind of want him, but that can be explored on another day, you always get the people you’ve set your sights on and now Hobie is added to that arsenal.

“Hey punk boy, got your treats,”

“Well ‘bout time you showed up, feels like I been waitin’ forever”

He hasn’t, you both know that, he especially so consider it took only 20 minutes to swing to the area, but you don’t need to know that or his alternative identity as the protector of formerly NYC, New London.

You hand over the shopping bag with the food and money, and expectantly hold your hand out in a handshake (I do this with my plug, he dabs me up and we exchange the weed through our hands like that).

He looks at you confused, and instead rummages through his sling bag (I headcanon that very few of his pants have fully functional pockets, so he makes all kinds of accessorized bags to carry his stuff ) to give you a brown paper bag, a mason jar inside of it.

You look at it, then him as he’s looking over the meals you’ve packed, not even bothering to count the cash, he knows a person like you wouldn’t short him, especially with how desperate you looked for some bud earlier.

You inspect the mason jar, and gawk.

The slick bastard gave you and OUNCE, not even comparable to the food and money you’ve given him, there must be a catch.

“This ain’t what I paid for nigga.”

Another boisterous laughs ripples through him, “Consider it a welcomin’ gift, gotta watch over the community and hotties like you in it right? I always give freebies, plus it looked like you really needed it.”

You’re shocked by his generosity but it doesn’t fully absolve the apprehension you have.

The next few times you keep the same routine until one day you’re feeling extra bold, in an especially eye-catching outfit, you invite him to your apartment.

“Wanna come over to smoke with me for a bit?”

Hobie knows he has patrol in a few hours, and he prefers to not be inebriated while acting as Spiderman, but fuck he wants to be in your apartment draped in your scent, and letting the space fill with the earthy smell of marijuana, he wonders if he can keep your perfume on his body all night just by being your vicinity. Its safe to say he’s a bit smitten, and your unreadable personality draws him in the learn more about you.

“Yeah sure let me check if ‘m free” Hobie doesn’t check shit, just closes his eyes letting a few beats in time pass before opening them again. “Yeah I don’ have anyt’ing else to do.” You don’t call him out for his actions, you roll your eyes and huff in annoyance, but nevertheless you lead the way back to your place.

Hobie lingers behind you, taking in the surroundings of the generationally inhabited homes, some of them extremely derelict compared to the freshly renovated and constructed luxury apartments that the bourgeois New Londoners occupy a few blocks over, a blatant exhibition on poverty and gentrification.

He also can’t complain about the view of your hips as they switch with every firm step, or the way with certain moves over cracked pavements, causes your thong to peek out from the waistband of your jeans.

The pair of you finally make it back to your own family-owned home, he lets you take the lead to unlock the doors and usher him in, you hesitate, you want to tell him to get comfy but you hate when people except you sit on the old furniture with outside clothes on.

But Hobie is an extremely considerate house guest, he takes of his heavy doc martens.

(Yes I know about the N*zi history, but I also think that Jewish people and alternative folks who actively protect the their communities from white supremacy can reclaim them, also they’re great for stomping people out, I know from experience…)

And he makes no complaints when you lay a blanket over the sectional to cover the worn-down furniture. He rolls up wordlessly once seated (as any real man does, girls and gays don’t roll for themselves).

He doesn’t ask you to lick the papers sealant this time, but you wished he did so you can make an entire theatrical performance of it, especially when his gangly legs are parted so wide, tray in his studded lap—resonating clanks when the metal rolling tray hits them with every shuffle of his body, or how his pierced eyebrows furrow in concentrating, gnawing at the inside of his lip ring, you could get used to this sight.

You dawdle around the apartment, getting your own weed, straightening up any stray clothes including a few pairs of underwear that were strewn about within the piles, clearing the coffee table before sitting down on the other side of the couch causing it to sink around your weight.

“Thanks for rolling Hobie”

“You should never have to roll your own weed, ‘orgeous”

Now this you can get used to, you may not be entirely interested in a partner right now, but having a personal roller seems like an awfully great idea, especially if your rolling machine is Hobie.

Hobie silently hands you the first blunt, lets you light it, keeping close watch to the way you inhale, one, two, three puffs before opening your lips for the air to cool the vapor before inhaling it sharply.

You don’t cough, nor do you choke, an experienced smoker like himself he notes, mesmerized by your reddened heavy-lidded eyes, smoke billowing around you.

Hobie rolls his head along the back of the sectional, inhaling, holding the searing vapor in his throat, long neck and adam’s apple on display, the protrusion bobbing with every flex his throat, a slow exhale of weed smoke from his full, lipstick-stained lips swells in the space.

You’re spellbound by his neck and lips you want to litter his body in bruises and bites, and the high makes the urge to lick and pull at the sterling metal of his lip piercing, drawing his mouth closer to her own, but that was a fantasy for now.

In ambient space of your living room you talk about your ideas, and goals, rambling on about the mundane daily occurrences you both. Hobie adores the fact that you have similar politics to him, maybe you’re more a bit more rigid like a Maoist or a Marxist, or even unlabeled in the work you do political, you might have disagreements over how the world should look post revolution, but you confide in him that you feel protected with a figure like Spiderman handling N*zis and fascists, capitalist and villains of all kinds.

Hobie swells at the compliment, but he chooses to nod eagerly and gauge you more about Spiderman.

“You make the bloke seem p’etty cool, ya know?”

“Have you seen his outfit, Spiderman radiates cool! And he keeps crime to a minimum, despite the infrastructural damage afterwards” you’d laugh.

These visits start happening more regularly, both of your mind’s filled with lingering thoughts of each other and texts compiling of political discourse online, or news of other revolutionaries around the world burrowing through trenches, or with guerilla warfare, taking their freedom by their own means.

You love to send him photos of you smoking the weed you buy from him, lightly dimmed room, puffy lips with a line of soot from the joint marking them up, eyes glossed over, face illuminated by the selfie cameras flash.

He hoards these photos on a locked album in his gallery, but he’s recently taken to bringing along a film camera to snap a few shots of you lounging around the living room, light casting a glint across your irises that drape down your figure in a golden sliver of light, he can’t help but to engrain that visage of you into his brain, even if that means hanging it with his other captured memories.

(Remember my random headcanon about trinkets, I think when Hobie starts getting an influx of film photos he keeps them in a laminated photo album that he flips through when he’s feeling melancholy about his duties as Spiderman, it helps him ground him to the feeling of why he does it, and why he sacrifices his body everyday.)

He even lets you borrow the camera to snap portraits of him too, which he’s surprised your incredibly good at when he receives the final print from a friend who works at a film development studio. He gives you these photos and only a few of the copious he shoots of you, and you don’t pry about what he does with them either, when he hands you a few of the ones you took of him he says a quip like,

“Always wan’ you think’ about me luv” Or “ You ‘et see my ‘andsome face every day huh?”

Over time a friendship cultivates between the two of you, but who will push the boundaries between platonic to something more romantic, and possibly very sensual. Maybe the sensual part before the romantic, just to test the waters first.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie headcanons #hobie brown #hobie brown x black!reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #atsv hobie #armands sanctum

[gh0stsp1d3r]

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

* means 18+

My teenagers series will be on a seperate masterlist (:

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

Said it’s big but you take it *

Shimmer *

Web prison

On your side, always

Miguel taking care of sick reader

Miguel with Latina!reader who is good with kids

Coffee

His two sweet girls

Promises

Accidents happen

Miguel with reader who has flu

Are you serious?

Chaos part 1

Chaos part 2*

Whipped part 1

Whipped part 2

Miguel dating hcs

Betrayal part 1

Betrayal part 2

It’s me or him

Sub! Miguel*

Size kink Miguel thots*

𝐇𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧

Haunting

Accidents

Labels

Ruthless

Ruthless part 2

Is that a raccoon?

Jinxed

Relax

Hobie thots*

Hobie with a mute reader

Cuddling w/ Hobie hcs

Stars

Who would’ve thought

Coast clear?

Just friends

Pretty boy part 1

Pretty boy part 2

Opposites attract

Punk rock love*

Freak on a leash*

Hidden feelings

Guard dog

Hobart brown.

All mine*

Hcs for hobie eating fem!reader out*

Hobie w sick reader

Ironic

Never mind

Dad!Hobie hcs

Hobie w/ autistic reader

Cute

Different

Ring

Hobie brown general hcs

Rambling

Soft spot

Glowing

Mirror

Pink

Quiet

Hobie x freestyle dancer hcs

Our future

𝐁𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲

Weird but in a cute way

Ben reilly w/ baker gf

Sub! Ben reilly hcs*

Enemies to lovers hcs

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐢𝐫

Spider noir x hippie stoner reader

Unexpected pair

𝐏𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐫

Pavitr w/ autistic reader

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐝 (𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲)

Spider squad w/giant reader

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #pavitr prabhakar x reader #ben reilly #ben reilly x reader