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mando-fando · 12 hours

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The Other Man Pt. 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Wife!Reader

Words: 2.8k

Interdimensional travel is a tricky thing. Miguel discovered that when he was working the bugs out in his gadgets and researching everything he could about alternate universes.

The first anomaly appeared in Peter B Parker’s universe. It was long before the Spider Society existed. Just a 50’s style, cartoon Vulture that popped up in the middle of Peter B’s NYC. Miguel followed the Vulture and found himself with some assistance in returning the flapping bird to where he belonged.

Peter and Miguel hit it off right away. Soon, Peter B had his own watch and access to Lyla’s vast database. Miguel and Peter still didn’t know the extent of the damage that Kingpin’s collider had done to the multiverse; they were simply playing it by ear.

He stumbled across you almost accidentally. In your universe, Peter Parker was still a kid, a few years out from getting bitten by his spider. For the time being, your universe was relatively normal. So, Miguel didn’t really have a reason to watch you, your husband, and your daughter.

Overnight, it seemed, your lives were always playing in the background on his monitor. He watched you and became obsessed with the normalcy of it all. He took solace in knowing that there was a universe out there where a different Miguel woke up every day and did everything right.

Your universe became essentially a control group for Miguel. He began developing algorithms to predict when the next anomaly would show up, using your universe to feed the algorithm data.

He would have the algorithm predict what you’d make for dinner on a random day, what your husband would do at Alchemax, and what questions your daughter would ask in class.

After a few months, it was spot on.

He knew your family’s routine like the back of his hand, but he could never look back on your past. He could only watch what was happening in the present, and use the algorithm that he and Lyla developed to predict your future. Miguel only had educated guesses about where you and your husband met, how long you’d been together, and the idiosyncrasies of your family life.

One day, as he was watching you cook breakfast for your daughter, the computer alerted him to an unusual event that was set to follow the next day: your husband’s death. A panic went through Miguel for you and your daughter. Your life was perfect, there was no way that something so catastrophic could happen to you. He tweaked the model, assuring himself that there was a problem with the coding.

Time and time again, your husband’s death was predicted. He looked over at you and Gabriella on his monitor, and his heart sank. You two were going to undergo such a tragedy, and there was nothing he could do.

An irrational thought crossed Miguel’s mind. He studied your husband’s likeness, his clothes, his mannerisms for months. He could…could he?

Should he?

The next day, he donned a white, collared sweatshirt and some slacks, the same thing your husband put on before heading to work. Miguel watched all three monitors like a hawk: you, your husband, and your daughter’s respective daily routines.

Night fell, and he watched your husband divert from his usual commute home to head to a panaderia in a sketchy part of town. He was getting some pan dulce for his daughter’s breakfast after hearing that she aced another spelling test.

It happened in an instant. A woman screamed, your husband’s sense of justice kicked in. Moments later, he lay in a pool of his own blood. A tie had been severed.

Miguel portaled in, almost without a second thought. He methodically emptied your husband’s pockets and donned his wedding band. A few hours later, Miguel walked in your front door as if nothing had happened. You jumped into his arms, and he felt himself fall for you in a heartbeat.

Guilt had wracked his brain every day since. He knew you were suspicious. He’d seen you watching him out of the corner of your eye. He saw the way you narrowed your eyes at him.

You started becoming cold towards him. You were less affectionate, less interested in his touch or kind words. Even if you couldn’t put your finger on it, you knew there was something amiss.

You were smart. You claimed that science wasn’t your strong suit, but Miguel saw you catch on to complicated subjects quickly when you helped Gabi with her homework or asked him about his day at work. A part of him thought that you might understand if he explained that he was from another dimension.

Today, you were being particularly cold towards him. You’d taken Gabi to your parents’ house for a weekend camping trip, and you were in the kitchen. It almost seemed like you were trying to find something to do so Miguel wouldn’t bother you.

The emotions he felt about the whole situation were so complex; he didn’t know how you’d react, and he couldn’t blame you. He’d stolen your husband’s life, essentially. Would you care that he only did it to save you and your daughter from devastation? Would you be able to love him the way he loved you?

Miguel walked into the kitchen and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. You wrenched your body away from his grasp. “Don’t touch me.”

Miguel took a step back and put his hands up defensively. “Amor, I want to talk to you about something.”

You whipped around with an irate expression. “Do you finally have an explanation for how insane you’ve been acting?”

“I… I do, actually.” Miguel watched you lean your back against the counter and cross your arms. “It’s going to sound outlandish.”

“You could tell me that you’ve been abducted by fucking aliens, and I’d believe you. I’m sick of not knowing what’s going on with you!” You raised your voice at him.

“Okay. Before I begin, I want you to know that I didn’t do anything with malicious intent. The complete opposite, actually.” He tried to gauge your reaction and carried on. “I’m not the Miguel

O’Hara you married, but I think a part of you knows that already…”

You eyed him suspiciously, but kept silent.

“I’m from a different dimension. I was born in a city called Nueva York. I was a geneticist, just like your husband. But, when I was in my late 20s, I had an accident at Alchemax which changed the nature of my DNA. In my dimension, I’m a hero named Spiderman.”

You were surprisingly calm. You looked at him with a skeptical expression, but you wanted to hear more. You needed an explanation, any explanation, of what the hell was going on. You were pregnant, and that was all the proof you needed that you’d been sharing your bed with someone else.

“Why are you called ‘Spiderman?’” You asked.

Miguel continued to search your expression for fear or incredulousness. “The genetic sequence that my DNA was spliced with was half spider.”

A disgusted look flashed across your face.

“In my universe, there were quantum theorists and physicists who were on the verge of interdimensional travel. I took the research that they did and combined it with my own knowledge of biomechanics and created this,” Miguel pulled up his sleeve and showed you the bulky contraption on his wrist.

“As far as I know, I’m the first person to ever make an autonomous jump to another dimension. Once I had been to a few different universes, I started to research and document the differences. That’s when I stumbled across your family.

“I enjoyed knowing there was a version of myself out there that was happy. My life in my dimension was pretty miserable sometimes, but things were a little easier to swallow knowing that I was capable of humanity somewhere in the multiverse. I wanted your family to have the perfect life that you deserve.” He paused and looked away for a moment.

“There was a prediction from my model that your husband was going to die.”

Your eyebrows shot up in concern. “What?”

Miguel sighed, knowing how badly you were going to take the news. “He was going to get pan dulce across town after work. A woman was getting mugged, and he intervened. It cost him his life…”

You felt your heart break in your chest as you gasped. Suddenly, your legs collapsed from beneath you. Miguel caught you before you hit the floor.

Your husband. Your darling, lovely perfect husband was gone, and some monster had taken his place.

You couldn’t see past the tears that flooded your vision, and you couldn’t help yourself from pressing your face in the chest of the man who looked just like him.

“I know…” Miguel caressed your hair. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Your love story had come to an end. Every shared glance, every evening doting over your daughter, every morning tangled in the sheets was gone. The pain was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

Miguel carried your sobbing, screaming figure to the bed. He laid next to you as a tear slid down his own cheek. The screams that emanated from you were haunting; he still heard them in his nightmares to this day.

You wore yourself out so profoundly that you simply lost consciousness. Miguel’s mind swirled with doubt and guilt. He thought back to the moments he’d witnessed on his monitor between the two of you. He was never able to find a flaw in either of you, nor your daughter. Now, he’d thrown a huge wrench in everything. Maybe he’d made a mistake in taking your husband’s place.

You stirred in bed next to him a few hours later. Your face was puffy and your voice was hoarse, but you looked at him with rage. You leapt out of bed before Miguel was fully awake. Instinctually, he activated his suit. His talons and claws shone under the digital fabric.

You screamed again in fear and confusion. Miguel deactivated the suit, returning to the normal clothes he was wearing.

You slid down the wall, cradling your knees. Fear, exhaustion, confusion, and heartbreak clouded your mind.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you!” Miguel looked panicked. He took a step towards you cautiously.

“Why did you come here!?” You screamed at him.

“I- I don’t know. I couldn’t handle the idea of Gabriella being without a father.”

“You’re NOT her father!” You stood up and took a step towards him.

“I know…”

“I’m pregnant.” The words spilled from your mouth before you had a chance to think. “That’s how I knew. That you’re not him, I mean.” You were rambling. “My husband had a vasectomy. When the test came back positive, I had proof…”

A wave of nausea hit you as you realized the man you slept with wasn’t your husband. You ran to the bathroom and Miguel followed.

He was speechless. He held your hair back as you gripped the sides of the toilet, and he rubbed your back as his mind raced.

He was thrust into uncharted territory. How would a baby with parents from two different dimensions fare? How would you fare? He couldn’t even begin to comprehend the ramifications of his stupid actions.

Miguel had seen you and your husband’s intimate moments before. He had always wondered why Gabi never had a sibling, but he made the assumption that you had some sort of contraceptive. The idea that your husband had a vasectomy never even crossed his mind.

You sat up from the toilet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Miguel stood up quickly to grab you a washcloth.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” You asked as your chest heaved. You could feel a migraine beginning to set in.

“I need to go back to my lab and run some tests.” The lack of emotion in his voice cut you.

You remembered your husband’s reaction to your first pregnancy, how he lit up so brightly at the news. To the man in front of you, your pregnancy seemed to be a liability and nothing more.

You glared at him as you took the washcloth. You pressed it to your forehead. A long moment of silence passed.

He reached out slowly and touched your cheek. “I’m sorry…”

“People die all the time, you know.” You said flatly. “You make it sound like my husband’s death was predetermined. If that’s what fate had in store for him, and for us, then that’s the way it was meant to be…”

You stood up and looked at yourself in the mirror. Miguel stood, too, and watched you. “Gabi and I would’ve figured it out. We would’ve gotten through it together.”

“I know you would’ve. You’re an incredible mother.” You watched him stare at you in the reflection. He was looking at you with sympathy and love. You felt your heart flutter. Guilt followed immediately after. The rollercoaster of emotions was exhausting.

“Go figure out what the fuck is going to happen to me.” You turned to look at him. “We need to know sooner rather than later. I could use some space from you, too. I’m still upset.” You crossed your arms and looked away from him.

He took your comments in stride and gave you another look of sympathy. He activated his suit and tapped away at the device on his wrist.

You covered your ears as a loud mess of colors and lights tore a hole open in your room. Miguel was gone in an instant.

Miguel tore through the portal and stepped into his lab in the building that would eventually become the Spider Society.

“Lyla,” he called as he walked over to his computer.

“Look who’s back? How’s married life treatin’ ya?” She asked sarcastically.

“Contact Peter and prepare the lab. We need to run some tests.”

Hours later, Miguel and Peter were driving themselves mad trying to find a circumstance where tissue from two different dimensions remained stable. The results were grim, time after time.

“Miguel, this is-” Peter began.

“Don’t even say it.” Miguel growled. Peter had never heard him take that tone before.

Every possible multi-dimensional combination ended in decay.

The facts stared back at Miguel, and he had to face reality. He pinched the bridge of his nose when his computer alerted him to an anomaly in your universe. Then, another. And another.

Hundreds of bizarre events were occuring in your universe. The tides stopped, gravity changed, and worst of all, things and people all over the world were glitching.

A massive hole opened underneath your version of Brooklyn.

Miguel and Peter suited up and ran in.

“Go find your wife and daughter, I’ll see what I can find out!” Peter called. Miguel nodded and ran at a breakneck speed towards your home.

He found you on the ground, half concious.

“Amor,” he called. He held you in his arms, and he knew he was too late.

“Miguel,” you tried to smile, but you glitched in his arms and groaned out in pain.

He picked you up and began to run towards the campground where Gabi was.

It felt like every cell of your body was on fire. You stared up at him, and a part of you knew that he had something to do with your universe tearing at the seams. Slowly, you were slipping out of his grasp like sand.

Miguel kept his gaze trained on you. He had no idea how he was going to fix this.

“Find her. Save her.” Those were your last words. Miguel blinked and you were gone.

Shock overcame him. He found himself on all fours hurdling towards your daughter. He heard her in the distance, and swooped her up before swinging the opposite way.

He saw Peter in the distance and ran from the white emptiness that began consuming the city.

If he could save Gabriella, it might have been worth it.

He ran, pushing his superspeed to the limit as Gabi screamed in his arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” He tried to reassure her as he tucked her into his chest. He saw people in front of him simply vanish, and fear gripped his heart like a vice.

If he could get away from the crowd for just a minute, he could portal away with your daughter.

He continued running, seeing an opening in the distance.

“Papa!” Gabi cried. He looked down, and she was gone. He stopped dead in his tracks. To him, there was nothing left worth saving. The whiteness enveloped him, and soon, Miguel and Peter stood in a vast, empty nothing.

“Miguel, we have to go. We don’t know what’s going to happen.” Peter tugged on his arm.

The words fell on deaf ears. Miguel was still staring down at his empty grasp, wondering where his daughter had gone.

Peter dragged him through the portal.

Time was a blur for awhile after that. Lyla analyzed every scrap of data, Peter recruited more spider-people, and the canon was discovered.

Miguel swore to never let it happen again.

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #across the spiderverse

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madschiavelique · 9 months

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hii i love your work!

i was wondering if you could write a sensitive fem!reader x Miguel O’Hara x Peter B smut? peter is like a soft dom and miguel is a hard dom?

miguel of course says something a little to mean while fucking her from behind, and she starts to cry and peter is all like “miguel, you made her cry”

thank you 🙏🏼

OMG anon you don't know what this did to me

you just provoked my new addiction : i want to write so much more miguel x reader x peter now i'm OBSESSED (also tumblr was kinda bugging while i tried doing this post so i hope things will be alright fdvfbsef - and this is not proofread :D)

summary : miguel made you cry because he was mean as you were eiffel towered by him and Peter B.

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, hard dom!miguel o'hara, soft dom!peter b. parker, reader being eiffel towered (i'm french and feeling very patriotic on this one🥖), miguel being a bit too mean, overstimulation, pnv sex, sodomy, no use of Y/N word count : 1,2k

tag list : @fandom-ash

You whimpered once more, your whole body feeling electric and tired at the same time as you sank down shakily. Miguel was behind you, his warm breath landing on your ear as you felt his torso bulge against your back. Peter was facing you, kissing your shoulder as your breasts pressed against his chest.

You couldn't tell the time any more, whether it had been an hour or more that they were fucking you without stopping. Many orgasms had been reached, and your body was floating in this cloud of overstimulation. You were exhausted, at the end of your rope, with barely enough energy to lift your body and sink on both of their dicks buried in you.

Needing to regain your strength and rest both your thighs and your whole body, which had been in orgasmic succession, you rested for a moment, not moving as their two cocks stayed all warm in you.

"Did I say you could stop?" Miguel grunted against your back, his teeth grazing your skin as his hand rested on your thighs and squeezed your flesh between his massive fingers.

You let out a moan, your head falling back to rest in the crook of Miguel's neck.

"I can't," you breathed shakily, "it's too much."

You could feel the electricity coursing through your thighs, your body on fire, absolutely exhausted by the effort that had been required of you from the start.

"Come on sweetheart," Peter encouraged, caressing your cheek as he waited for you to continue. "You can do this."

You inhaled harshly, pressing down on your trembling thighs to rise again and continue. The knot forming in your body stretched from your lower stomach to the small of your back. The overload of sensation was heightening your sensitivity to the limit, both physically and mentally.

Your legs were tired, trying to bury yourself properly on them. One of your hands had found its place on Peter's shoulder, the other holding Miguel's thigh and allowing you to hold on better as you went back and forth.

"Is that the best you can do?" Miguel grumbled against your ear, both your faces covered in a light sheen of sweat.

One of his hands went to your hip, digging his fingers into your skin as he pushed even deeper and you let out a moan. The fatigue was getting hard to handle, all the sensations mixed together, their breaths, their voices, their words...

"If you can't do it right, I'll find someone who can".

This sentence stung you in the chest. All you were doing was trying to do your best for them, to make them feel good and have your share in it too. Were you really that incapable? Were you so incompetent that you didn't do anything for them? Were you really that useless?

"Watch your mouth," Peter warned, not necessarily condoning the crude words his partner had just uttered.

But it was too late, your heart clenched, your throat constricted as a ball formed in it. Your eyes burned, you would have preferred not to cry, but your nose stung so much in your abstinence that you ended up breaking. When the tears came, you lowered your head against Peter's shoulder, and they flowed hard and committed.

"Hey what's that," he said, feeling beads running down his skin that he knew wasn't sweat.

You didn't dare look at them, your hips still moving, your shame and discouragement oppressing your chest.

"Look at me," he asked softly as his hand came to rest on your cheek.

You looked up, your eyes unable to find his. But he placed his index finger like a hook under your chin to raise it, and your wet eyes met his.

"Oh no," he said, mouth half open, "bunny, are you crying?"

You immediately felt Miguel tense up, his hand suddenly much softer against your skin.

"What?" he asked, gently sliding his hand over your jaw in the hope of turning you towards him and seeing your face.

But you pulled away from his touch and buried your face in Peter's shoulder, not feeling strong enough to face Miguel's gaze.

"Miguel, you made her cry," Peter said, stroking your hair gently as Miguel's mouth fell open in surprise.

He hadn't realised the impact words like that could have on you, especially in this context. You had been so good to them, and you still are, their absolute dream. You are perfection itself, and Miguel would obviously never want to replace you with anyone else.

"Muñeca..." he murmured against your back as he came to kiss you tenderly, his hand caressing your hip.

Your tears were still flowing, your back shaking with little jolts of heartache and pleasure.

"Mírame," he asked gently, kissing the back of your neck.

You breathed in, lifting your wet cheeks from Peter's shoulder and turning to meet Miguel's face.

His eyes instantly became pained, pained to have been the one to cause this state. He would never, ever wish for anyone but you. He caressed your cheek, kissing the corner of your eyes and licking your wet skin.

"Please forgive me, amor," he whispered against your skin, "you know I never meant these words, right?"

Your chin trembled and Peter put his hand on your other cheek to wipe it clean.

"You're the only one we want," Miguel assured you, his eyes fixed on yours. "You're the most perfect thing that ever happened to us, and we would never want anybody else than you."

You sniffled, the sweet words he gave you pressing into your heart like a comforting balm. You loved them both so dearly, and it felt good to know that they did too.

"How are you feeling right now?" Peter asked, kissing your cheek softly.

You breathed in, still feeling the exhaustion weighing on your thighs and body.

"Like everything's too much," you managed to whisper, sniffing and swallowing.

"Do you think you can come just once more for us, nena?" Miguel asked, kissing your shoulder gently and stroking your thigh with his thumb.

The knot in your stomach was still tight, and it was almost painful not to get any relief from it.

"Mhm," you nodded as you pushed on your thighs again to raise them up.

Miguel's hands both came to grip your hip to guide you, helping you to sink and rise much more easily and sparing you a little pain in your thighs.

"You're so good for us," Peter breathed, kissing the crook of your neck lovingly, "you're doing such a good job, taking us like that."

Miguel kept pace with your hips, neither urging you on nor slowing you down. Both their warm breaths landed on your skin, whispering sweet, soft words that softened your heart and enveloped it in adoration.

Your moans began to multiply, vibrating in your throat a little more as you finally approached orgasm.

"Come for us, muñeca" encouraged Miguel.

And you came, your whole body shaking as if a bolt of lightning had struck your core and spread seismic waves of pleasure throughout its entirety.

You let your head rest against Miguel's chest, and he kissed your forehead gently.

"I knew you could do it," he whispered.

"You're our angel," Peter confirmed as he kissed your cheek.

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keisobe · 10 months

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౨ৎ ‧˚ 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐁 (𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛. 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 + 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚) ⋮ heavily suggestive. age difference. 18+ reader. cheating. ooc. ⎯ spiderdads love having you as their little intern.

recently receiving a spider watch after a year of your debut as spider-woman in your dimension, you made it your ultimate duty to live up to the expectations of your variant superiors. your forthcoming nature and free time was open to anyone, but you found yourself always being in the radar of peter and miguel.

it would start off with innocent requests.

“hey kid, is it fine if you could grab me some coffee?” peter would smile at your enthusiastic nod and hand you his ‘number one dad’ mug. by now you know peter’s order— steaming hot coffee with powdered creamer.

“kid, transfer these files to sector 3.” miguel wouldn’t even look at you, but you still flashed a grin and began to sprint through the bustling hallway. you also learned he liked the empanadas at the cafeteria.

and in exchange of completed requests, you’ve found yourself looped into their peculiar ways to regard your work.

“good girl.” peter’s voice was hushed and deep as he sweetly patted your head, taking a careful sip of his aromatic coffee with an attractive grin. he left you a little stunned after that, or more so a blushing mess. then you watched him go back into his usual ‘i’m a proud dad’ routine and attend to mayday back in his dimension.

“gracias cari– u-umm i mean thanks… kid.” miguel uncharacteristically fumbles his words as he finally darts his ruby eyes away from the glowing, holographic screens, looking into your eyes with actual acknowledgement of your presence. his gaze was intense, a sense of longing in them. then he abruptly dismisses you, leaving you with a sense of wonder as to what just happened as you exited his lab.

it was always a special occasion when the two of them would be together.

“kiddo, you free?” peter shouted as he waved you down in the midst of you finishing a small errand for jess.

you responded with a firm nod as you sent jess a brief message on your watch. the smile you wore slightly faltered at the sight of a weirdly unreadable miguel beside peter— eyes glittering with a shade of red that you’ve never seen before. it made you feel on edge. nonetheless, you approach the two with a determined glow on your face as you let them lead you with peter filling in the awkward silence with his little quips and sarcastic comments towards miguel.

at this point, you've been working for the spider society for three months now. the teasing remarks from the other spider-people toned down and you’re finally classified as a real agent, exclusively working alongside miguel, jessica, and peter. and even through the fantastic upbringings in your life, something has been eating at you— more correctly, two people have been making your life miserably complicated.

miguel was by far the most interesting person you’ve met. his past takes a toll on him every counting day and the integral goal he based his life around is to never repeat his one mistake. although he’s very calloused and irritable, you admired his ambition and the rare moments his cold demeanor would falter to reveal a huge dork (in no other dimension have you ever seen a grown man get bullied by his own ai). as much as miguel shared a huge part of himself to you, he seemed far more content with being completely alone and devoting his life to a vow he made that day his daughter and an entire universe was wiped from existence.

peter, sarcastic and careless in nature, recently became an attentive father. it was endearing to see, considering the various stories of his depressing upbringing would make your warm lunch turn ice cold and soggy within a minute into his sulky narration (you might’ve avoided spending your lunch breaks with him afterwards). and his rekindling love with mary-jane finally gave him a sense of comfort and relief of a normal, happy family life. peter gave you a sting of hope that things will somehow turn out okay in the end. it made you feel closer to him, until you remembered that he was just sharing some old, adult wisdom to you.

and that was fine with you. you can totally push aside your small crushes for peter and miguel. one was emotionally unavailable and one was in a stable relationship with a beautiful daughter. plus they were your bosses and twice your age. so why? why is that miguel would linger a little longer whenever you announced that you’ll be going back to your dimension? why is that peter’s brown eyes would brighten up whenever you held mayday lovingly in your arms?

it didn’t help when miguel would start to call you endearing pet names with a genuine smile on his face, or when peter would situate you on his lap as he nuzzle his nose into your neck just because ‘it felt comfortable’. this conundrum made you think that you were completely losing your damn mind, that somehow you were looking too deep into the lines. but you concluded it was just all a huge misunderstanding on your part.

yeah, that’s what it was.

“you have to be quiet, okay?”

peter mumbles in the shell of ear as he clumsily discards your tight spider suit in the corner of the room while miguel makes sure that all the doors are sealed shut and locked from prying eyes.

it was normal just a few minutes ago. peter ribbing miguel with his usual dry humor, and miguel ignoring his antics to tick him off while leading you both to what you presumed to be a private conference room to discuss the important matters of anomalies.

but when the three of you nearly approach the door, peter suddenly stops talking. cautiously looking around his surroundings, peter presses himself closer and subtly grinds his hips onto the softness of your ass while miguel’s lingering hand gropes the curve of your tits— his neutral expression completely taunting your shattering composure. this is where your actual conundrum begins.

the room continued to hiss as the electric engines faintly knocked on the metal walls. the dimmed lights that made your very inappropriate circumstances much more intimate than it should be.

the chiseled arch of miguel’s cheekbones brushed the plush skin of your spread thighs, his sharp canines eagerly leaving tender marks that were reserved for only the three of you to look at. each bite and suck left you weakly whimpering his name with growing anticipation.

it was lonely back in your dimension, your bed was cold without another body to warm it up. returning back to an empty apartment would elicit forbidden thoughts— ones that held you in a heated daze until you realize you’re dumbly standing in the middle of the room and shamelessly yearning to open another portal to be in the arms of peter and miguel.

god, this was so wrong.

“aw, do you want more kid?” peter teasingly asks as his stumble scrapes along your jawline, leaving marks of his own along the junction of your neck.

miguel gazed up at your troubled expression, an amused smirk dancing along the swell of your inner thighs.

morals, pay attention to your morals.

you nodded eagerly, a force of habit after attending to the various needs of your superiors, but miguel wouldn’t take that as an answer.

“you have to tell us cariño.” miguel grumbles in between his love bites— crimson eyes glowing under the dull light.

oh well.

“yes! please, i need more.”

peter and miguel muse at your neediness, swiftly changing their positions as they propped you comfortably on a table placed in the middle of the room. you flinched from the chilling contact, but you were immediately warmed up when both men knelt down— each hooking an arm around your quivering legs and indecently displaying you as they spread your limbs. they move like they were on the same wavelength, finally agreeing on one thing.

guilt pinged in your stomach once again when peter’s wedding band brushes against your skin and miguel’s spider watch brightly flashes with pilled voice memos urgently calling for his assistance.

obviously annoyed, miguel hastily pries off the pinging watch and puts it aside while peter eagerly tucks his wedding ring in the pocket of his discarded pink robe. weirdly, their visible desperation to have their attention focused on you filled you with pride.

finally, two pairs of eyes were trained on you, sparkling with a hypnotizing red and a drunken brown. their previous notions left no ounce of guilt, instead it made them hyper focused with lust.

“don’t worry querida,” miguel gruffly murmurs as he snags your underwear with a sharp finger. “peter and i will take good care of you.”

“but don’t tell anyone kiddo.” peter cuts in, a subtle grin on his face but through his playful tone, he was dead serious.

you compliantly nodded.

of course, you won’t tell a single soul.

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leisures-writes · 10 months

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in which you’re the only one for peter and miguel. ( alt title — love. )

who? — yan! peter b. parker x fem! reader x yan! miguel o’hara.

general warnings! — dc written by a 17 year old! dni if uncomfortable with any themes written or with a minor writing! yandere / obsessive behavior towards the reader ( i do not condone yandere / obessive behavior at all. ) and non canon to the across the spider verse movie!

nsfw warnings? — oral ( f. receiving ), pet names, degrading / condescending praise, praise, finger sucking (m. receiving ), implied overstimulation, implied breeding kink, poly relationship, eager switch / sub & slightly mean / condescending dom dynamic ( peter b. parker & miguel o’hara ).

note! — by clicking read more, you’re agreeing to read dc or nsfw. part two’s coming in maybe a month! my atsv / general tag list is open along with my requests! or enjoy my peter b parker fic! please like, comment and reblog. <3

heavy puffs escape your mouth as you writhe in his grasp.

“f - fuck, peter! pete, stop! i - i can’t!”

his mouth was persistent, licking your clit and dipping into your entrance, desperate for your slick — his lifeline. your protests didn’t register in peter’s mind until miguel pauses, yanking peter away from your aching cunt.

“slow down.”

the words were snarled, barely understandable from being pushed from gritted teeth —fangs, which shone in the light. peter gripped your thighs, nuzzling the inner thigh area as an apology, placing kisses and soft bites, marking the area.

“oh, sweetheart. you look so pretty for us, right, peter?”

“mhm.”

peter hums against you. the sensation of soft lips on you made you even more wet, your thighs trying to shut with no avail. the motion drew both’s attention. miguel smiles down at you, the expression more of a sneer as his fingers swipe at your arousal. keeping eye contact with you, the older spider-man offered the fingers to peter, who sucked on them greedily, the slurping noise lewd and loud.

the action made your head spin, mouth agape as you see his pink tongue dart around the pointer, seemingly repeating the same actions that happened to you mere minutes ago.

“good girl.”

the praise bestowed onto you from miguel was always sparse but it didn’t matter to your pleasure addled mind. in fact, it was one of the many things that miguel seemed to know — how to push your buttons at the right time.

peter hums contently, releasing miguel’s fingers with a pop.

“tastes good.. but i want more.” peter’s whiny declaration drew yelp from your throat, trying to squirm away from the threat of another orgasm.

“no no no more please.” you chant desperately, begging to miguel with tears in your eyes, voice breaking. smiling sympathetically at you, miguel strokes your head, eyes heavy lidded. you knew better than to believe his stupidly honey words and soft touches with those eyes — the same damn eyes he gave you as you protested being anywhere near his friends ( where they friends or merely coworkers? ) but the gesture was so nice, so soothing and reminded you of before.

and so, you lean into the touch, a whimper escaping you as peter kisses a calf that was slung over his shoulder.

“but, darling, peter hasn’t had his fill. you wouldn’t want to make him sad, would you?” there was a hum from said male before miguel continued on. “and i enjoy seeing you like this — laid out before me, whiny, needy. you’re such a good little whore for us, you know?”

despair fills your eyes, fills your tears that he wipes away with a grin.

“don’t worry, my love. we’ll take good care of you. you’re going to be carrying our children one day, after all.”

#yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #yandere atsv x reader #yandere atsv #yandere peter b parker #yandere peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x reader x peter b parker #miguel o’hara x reader smut #peter b parker x reader smut #—rey writes!#—rey’s miguel fic #—rey’s peter b fic #—rey’s atsv!

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aweina · 9 months

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not sure if anyone’s done this but … ( ´ ω ` )ノﾞ♥︎

#.misc #i could’ve wrote this but me lazy #i can’t read so i like looking at pictures #hobie brown x reader #miles morales x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #peter b parker x reader #hobie brown #miles morales #peter b parker #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader

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deadguyalert · 11 months

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Speaking my honest truth here

#across the spiderverse #spiderman #miguel o’hara #peter b parker #atsv #miguel o’hara x reader #peter b parker x reader #I KNOW YA’LL HAVE D*DDY ISSUES #I SEE WHAT YOU SAY I SEE WHAT YOU DO #being fatherless will lead you down this path but it’s your choice to pick which road you go down

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rahhhbananas · 10 months

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✭ ✭ ✭ 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐍 ✭ ✭ ✭ ft. a lot of characters

summary. Y/n is very protective of his son (aka Spider Plush).

warning(s). He/Him pronouns, foul language, Hobie is a major bully

a/n. Y/n and Spider-Plush are the new Miguel and Lego Spider-Man

“He is a person! And you will treat him that way!”

The voice of Y/n welcomed the newly woken society. It was around 7 am, and a commotion had begun in Miguel’s office. As the sun lazily illuminated the sky, Miles groggily made his way towards Miguel's office, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. He couldn't fathom why there was such a commotion at this early hour. "Why is there so much yelling? It's 7 in the morning...!" he groaned, his voice laced with exhaustion. Miles walked through the door, greeting Gwen and Peter B. who were watching the scene amused. Miles looked to see Y/n in a heated debate with both Miguel and Hobie, although it was mostly Hobie, Miguel was sitting down, trying to sooth an incoming migraine.

Pavitr stood at Y/n’s side, cradling a….Spider-Man…plushie? “What is going on here..” Miles who was now wide awake stared at the situation, looking at Gwen for answers. Gwen responded with a chuckle “Get this…their arguing because Hobie skipped Spider-Plush in line for breakfast.” Gwen managed to say between fits of laughter. Miles gave Gwen a look “So, he doesn’t believe in consistency and he doesn’t believe in manners?” Miles watched Y/n, who looked like he was on the brink of committing murder, due to Hobie’s nonchalant face. Peter chimed in, catching a swinging Mayday “I don’t think he did it to be rude. Maybe because he likes getting on Y/n’s nerves,”

Jess who just walked in looked at Peter, “This early morning air finally gave you a brain?” She walked towards Miguel, handing him water and probably a headache pill. Miguel thanked Jess, looking up at the continuing argument. “Yeah..and how did Pavitr get into all this?” Miles questioned, Gwen laughed, for what seemed to be the 4th time “That’s even funnier! He’s trying to take Hobie to court,” Miles smiled, seeing the obvious amusement in the situation “Yeah, somehow he’s got a diploma in that stuff.” Jess chimed in from the computer.

“That’s not the fucking point, Hobart! My son deserves respect! You’ve made him cry!” Y/n gestures to the “crying” plushie, and Pavitr who’s nodding in agreement. Hobie scoffed “Cryin? He’s got a tear sticker on ‘is face! You’ve got yourself fooled!”. This was Miguel’s last straw, he finally flipped the table, literally, sending everything flying— including the cup of water, that Spider-Plush was now drowned in. Gasp filled the small crowd, the laughter coming to a halt to stare at Y/n who was breathing heavily, trying to calm down.

Y/n slowly turned, looking at the soaked Spider-Plush. The plush squeaked, comical tears spewing from its large eyes. Y/n turned to Miguel and Hobie— the latter raised his hands, in a attempt to prove his innocence, he instead pointed to the leader who sported a small bead of sweat, his posture straightened “Umm, that was an accident- I was trying to de-escalate the situation. My anger over took…” Y/n pounced on Miguel, not letting him finish his sentence. Miguel tried to pull the other off his face, stumbling around while knocking things over.

“I-it was an accident!”

“YOU HORRIBLE PERSON!”

“GAAH! WHERE DID THESE CLAWS COME FROM?”

“DON’T….WORRY ABOUT IT!”

“JESSGETHIMOFFME!”

“Sorry, Miguel. I’m not getting into this fight.”

“APOLOGIZE OR SUFFER!”

“AHHHH!”

The crowd watched in silence as Miguel walked out with a bucket on his head, drenched in water. Y/n, on the other hand, walked out cradling his son, the plush wrapped in a towel, Y/n cooed trying to calm down the squeaks emitting from the plushie. Y/n walks up to the group, staring directly at Hobie “Hobart. My lawyer will contact you.” Y/n pointed to Pavitr, and somehow the teen was in a suit. Hobie chuckled, “Fair enough.” Hobie looked at Gwen “Gwendy. Ya down to be my lawyer?” Gwen shook her head “Nope, your not dragging me into this.” Hobie sighed in defeat “Alrigh’ Miles, see ya in a suit on Tuesday.” Hobie shook said boys shoulders, before running off, leaving the boy no time to complain.

Y/n looked at his boyfriend, tutting his head “Fine. Miles. You wanna play that game? Helping my enemy!” Y/n groaned, pulling shades from seemingly nowhere, while also putting them on “I want my child support by Friday,” Y/n said, striding away, Pavitr shuffling after him, the stuff suit preventing him from running.

Meanwhile, Miles stood shocked “Child support? Wha…what is he talking about!” Gwen shook her head disapprovingly “Come on Miles, don’t play dumb, take responsibility.” She advised before departing, leaving Peter who shook his head as well “Don’t worry kid, we’ve all been there..” Peter smiles, before joining the rest.

“Wha- what are you guys talking about!”

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rainroses45 · 10 months

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Imagine when miguel is chasing after miles and instead of trying to stop him forcefully you just yell out “IM PREGNANT” instead.

the way miguel would crash into a car shocked, quickly turning around to face you with the most “i beg your biggest fûcking pardon” face ever. it’s just makes me cackle at the way this man would be like “seriously out of all times you chose to tell me THIS IS WHAT YOU CHOSE?!”

miles wouldn’t even have turned back. my dude would have skedaddled so fast from the scene, but not before yelling out a faint “congratulations” before continuing on.

miguel would have just stayed there frozen not sure if he should be running towards you or chasing after miles. you just stand then shimming around awkwardly wondering if you should specify anymore information or cha cha real smooth to the honking cars.

then everyone else just shows up all confused seeing miguel just stand there shocked as if someone just stole his left kidney. untill all of them see you and then just start nodding like “oh so you finally told him.” peter would be video tapping everything like “mayday first pregnancy reveal / chase” while making sure to have miguel’s shocked face in the video for blackmail <3

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #pregnant reader #miles morales #spider man across the spider verse #peter b parker #mayday parker #spiderman spiderverse #i’m literally in love with him

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navisakura · 11 months

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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

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heartpascal · 11 months

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is it freedom?

▹— spiderverse (future) found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: after losing everything, you struggle to accept the one thing you needed all along.

▹— a/n: ok i have been enabled by exactly two (2!) people. (thank you both) SO dare i start a spiderverse series??? IF YALL WANT MORE OF THIS… I WILL DO IT. this is really just a set up thing idk but i feel like arachnid has potential for further parts and ACTUAL found family!! also haven’t tagged people on my general taglist bc idk if you guys want to be tagged in ALL works or just all pedro works :(

▹— warnings: slight across the spiderverse spoilers, not really found family yet, injuries, blood, treating own injuries, stitches, fighting (canon-typical violence yall), dead parents (mentioned a LOT), a whole lot of angst (it’s a spider-person so what do we expect), reader has a whole lot of bad thoughts, loneliness, isolation

masterlist PART TWO

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Had you known what this, this thing, would lead to, you would have never started it. Not that you had done so purposely, at least to begin with, more so happening as an event of pure chance. You were in the right place at the right time, and since then, you had been addicted.

But if you could go back, look at yourself just a year younger than you are now, tell that kid what would come if you went through with saving a life for the first time, you wondered. It was a question that scratched deep in your brain, sending you off balance the more you thought about it; would you have still done it? Would you have saved that person’s life, knowing it would lead to your own falling apart?

You would like to think yes. In fact, you know that back then, when your eyes were bright at the prospect of helping people, when you still marvelled at the world like it was good, you would have been certain that it would be worth it. Why should that person die, just to save you? It’s a harrowing realisation. A conclusion that makes your fingers tremble, your voice shake. Now, you’re not sure you would do it. You don’t think you could bear to face that decision knowing what you know of the world around you now.

It’s something cruel, really, that the spider that bit you gave you these powers, and nothing to go back and fix your mistakes. Your perceived victories. Your losses.

But the worst has already happened, and the only one left to die is you, so you carry on. You don the suit every day, you sew up your own injuries on the top floor of the abandoned offices that you’ve claimed as your own. Each day, you wake when you choose, you sleep when you want to, and you work yourself down to your very bones with nobody to object.

The hollow feeling in your gut is a pain you have no choice to ignore, to smother with assurances that this is freedom. What else could it be? You do whatever you so please, you spend your time swinging through the streets of New York rather than doing schoolwork at home, you eat all the junk you could ever have wanted.

It’s freedom. It has to be.

You tell yourself that you don’t miss the home part of having to do schoolwork, promise your heart that you don’t miss home-cooked meals as opposed to greasy food that leaves you unsatisfied. You swear that you like having nobody to tell you what to do. There’s no other choice, after all.

And each day, when you spend a little bit longer out on the streets, getting yourself into needless fights that the police could certainly handle, you tell yourself it’s because you’re protecting the city. You convince yourself that it’s not because of having an unending rage to satiate, or a permanent feeling of breathlessness when you leave police to handle anything, as if you could relive the moment your father, the captain, was left to handle something he couldn’t.

So, you’re almost relieved by the appearance of something… strange. Something dangerous. This is what you live for — this is your job.

You crouch against the wall, fingers splayed and suit itching where you had crudely sewn it back together across your ribs at an almost too-close call. You hold your breath, you watch. The lenses over your eyes shield your sensitive sight from the harshest colours of this new opponent, who looks almost… unreal. Too different to be a part of reality. He yells out, seemingly glitching? A distorted scream of what is apparently pain, accompanied by flashes of colour that are unfamiliar to you.

“Well, that doesn’t look good.” You comment, eyebrows raised beneath your mask, and the strange looking guy snaps his head towards you, long hair slapping across the goggles over his eyes. He bares his teeth at you, something almost resembling a grin marring his face.

“Spider-man!” He yells triumphantly, cackling as he wipes the hair away from his face, tendrils unfurling from behind his back and lifting him into the air.

“Not quite!” You call back, dodging below the metallic arm that shoots towards where your head was, crumbling through the wall. You try to think back to the jokes you used to tell to rile up whoever you were facing, but find your mind is blank. Instead, all you can think of is questions. “Where the hell did you come from, anyway?”

The man follows you as you spring from wall to wall, heading towards the center of the building where it tunnels up for about forty floors, balconies overlooking the fountain below. “A new spider, eh? Well I’ll take you down just as easily as I have the other!” He tells you, though you’re immediately suspicious of his statement. You’re the only Spider-related hero around, and even if you weren’t, you doubt this guy could squash a worm, let alone you.

“Sure thing, man.” You say, sighing, already exhausted by the repetitiveness that comes with every fight. Your opponents always say they’ll beat you, kill you, squish you, take you down, and yet you always get back up at the end of the fight, and they always remain defeated. When you started doing this, you never would have thought you’d get so tired from winning all the time.

And yet here you are, slipping further and further up the building with the octopus-looking guy chasing after you, metal arms crumbling walls and bannisters on his way up. He falters once more, another one of those glitch-like movements sending him down a few floors, but he’s quick to recover. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

You crouch down on one balcony, somewhere around the thirty mark floor-wise, peering down at the guy as he shakes lingering pain from his body. He charges upwards, aiming to reach you quickly with an almost predatory smirk on his face. Before he can even get close to you, however, you’re back on the move, setting a trap for him that he doesn’t even seem to notice.

It’s only when a group of late workers emerge on what you’re pretty sure is the twenty-first floor that you become more anxious about this fight. You don’t like when civilians are involved.

There’s about a dozen of them crowding the balcony, looking up to where you’re facing off with octopus-man above, some having begun to descend the stairs to the next floor before catching on to your presence. You try not to draw attention to them, but their pointing and whispering sets the Spidey-sense off, ringing loudly between your ears, almost deafening in its intensity. Maybe you underestimated this guy. The flash of a camera sends the last hope of him not noticing down the drain, and he grins at you as he switches targets, climbing down towards them with some semblance of caution.

You’re much faster than he is, dropping down and using a web to catch yourself rather than having to climb. It’s hard to stop yourself from yelling at them, cursing them out for being so damn foolish — who in their right mind would stick around a very dangerous fight to take pictures?

Instead, you choose to yell, “Get out! Go, go, go.” And usher them down the stairs, but it’s not difficult to realise that this guy is going to get to them before they manage to descend to the bottom. You shouldn’t be surprised, really. Nothing is ever as simple as it could be, not for you.

The split second decision to drop down and form a net-like web low enough to catch the workers worked out for you in the end, as you swung back up and pushed the workers off of the balcony and stairway just as the octopus man was reaching them. He cursed at you, refocusing his efforts on you as you vaguely noted the workers clambering down after their screaming had stopped. Honestly — did people really have so little faith in you? Had you ever sent anybody to their death before?

“You are just as pesky of an insect as Spider-man!” He growled out, teeth gritted, and came after you with renewed force. He kind of reminded you of that doctor you faced not long after getting your powers, but this guy looked completely different. The doctor you faced — aptly named Doc Ock — had turned himself into some form of a mutant, he had reinforced tentacles which sprouted from his back. Was this guy some kind of copy cat? Maybe he was just delusional.

“I don’t know who Spider-man is, man!” You shout to him as you ascend the building again, trying to figure out the best way to take this guy down. His tentacles seem electronic, so surely you could disable whatever machinery resides on his back?

“That’d be me.” A voice came from above you, two floors ahead of your position. Your head snapped towards it, seeing a man in a blue and red suit, framed by a burst of orange behind him. He didn’t linger up there long, instead moving to leap down to the guy who had turned his attention to the new guy. The closer you looked at this new guy, the more similarities you saw to yourself — his webs looked remarkably similar to your own, the pattern that went across his suit matched your own, even the wide white lenses that shielded your eyes on your mask. Who the hell was this guy?

The octopus man grinned widely, shaking greasy hair from his face. “Ah, finally! The real Spider-man. Got yourself a new protégé, I see.” He drawled, dodging this new guy’s hit straight off of the bat. You tried not to get annoyed at being referred to as a protégé, considering as far as you were aware, you were the only Spider-person around. Where was this guy when you were holding a bridge full of civilians together? Where was he when you took down villain after villain, never once failing to get the guy? No — you were the real Spider-man, if anyone.

“I don’t know who you are, man, but I’m handling this just fine.” You call to the guy, swinging down to rejoin the fight, webbing the villain’s metal tentacles to the wall behind him, before dropping down to kick him towards the wall.

“Oh, so you know how to send this guy back to his own dimension?” Spider-man asks you, eyebrows raised beneath his mask, and as if on cue, the guy glitches once more, ripping his arms away from the wall and just about catching himself on a balcony below before he could fall into your net.

You gape at the new guy, glancing back up to where the burst of orange remains opened, and is that a portal? Is this Spider-man from another dimension? Is that why you’ve never heard of him before? God, if your mother was alive, she’d kill to find out about this. Inter-dimensional travel was something she had spent her life researching. If you didn’t remain so bitter toward her even after her death, you might’ve been sad she wasn’t alive to see this.

But you were bitter, and it made the experience all the worse.

Because you’re pretty sure that that bitterness takes the place of grief within you. It’s hard to understand why you crave to feel that pain, that grief, as opposed to the aching resentment that floods you with the thought of her. It’s such a sharp contrast to thinking of your father, your kind father, the man who threw himself into a battle he couldn’t have hoped to survive, just on the off chance he could save somebody. You hope you take after him.

“Wait— you’re from another dimension?” You question anyway, eyes flickering between the battle and the looming portal above. In fact, you’re so distracted by finding out about that tidbit of information that you miss octopus man aim a tentacle for you, and it snatches you around the ankle. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me—!”

The man waves you around like some kind of rag doll, and you try not to be too bitter about being caught off guard. You should probably learn that getting caught up in your little pity party always ends up badly, always distracts you from that renowned Spidey-sense. You formulate a plan in your mind when the drip of blood around your ankle draws your attention back to the battle at hand.

You web the wall opposite and hold on tight, pausing the movements and letting the dizziness that had come over you fade away. The man growls out in annoyance, and gets closer to cut the webs with another tentacle, which is exactly what you planned for. The tension from the webs launches you towards him when you let go, and in his surprise, the metal tentacle releases you. You wrap around him, and start webbing up the machinery embedded in his back as Spider-man distracts most of the tentacles, keeping them from pulling you off.

His tentacles start faltering, clearly not obeying his movements, and you wrap them up where they emerge from his back, continuing along until the movement is so limited that he has to use them all to clutch onto the nearest balcony.

You crawl up the tentacles in the very same spidery manner that you’re known for, and crouch, watching the octopus man struggle as Spider-man observes from the balcony opposite. “You wanna finish this one off, Spider-man?” You ask, unable to hide any bitterness from your tone at his mostly unhelpful actions throughout the battle.

“Hey, not bad!” He praises, and it annoys you. You’re good at what you do — for the most part. You manage without help constantly, and that’s the way you prefer it. “You’d make a good addition to the Spider Society!”

Now, you don’t know what the Spider Society is. But honestly? You don’t care. You don’t need help, and you prefer working alone, and you certainly don’t like feeling patronised.

“Whatever, man. Just send him back to whatever dimension he came from.” You tell the guy, and drop down as you hear sirens outside, landing on your injured ankle and just about stopping yourself from cursing. Through all the adrenaline and fighting, you’d forgotten about the way the metal had ripped into your skin, drawn blood. It’s just be another place you’d have to sew up your suit with itchy, uneven stitching. “Officers,” You greet as they open the doors, guns drawn, radios murmuring. “All taken care of. Civilians okay?”

“Shaken up, but fine.” The leading police officer says, immediately relaxing and holstering his weapon. You wish it reassured you that the police trusted you now, but it didn’t. Nonetheless, the other officers follow suit. “Thank you, Arachnid.”

The name your world has bestowed upon you has yet to grow on you, but you nod your head regardless, and salute them as you make your way out, swinging across the city, trying to put the existence of the multiverse and inter-dimensional travel out of your mind. Surprisingly, it’s pretty easy when you have a busted ankle to fix up.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You’re halfway through stitching up your suit, having already sewn your skin back together with as much skill as you possessed in the matter — which was, not much. But the bleeding has stopped, and your stupidly slow healing will take care of it within a few days. You know that the itchy stitches on your suit will just irritate the injury, and though you wouldn’t lose anything if your identity was revealed, it doesn’t feel right to go out into the city with any part of you on show.

No, you wear the suit for a reason. You keep every part of yourself covered because nobody can know it’s you underneath the suit. Not because you had anything to lose, no, you had already lost everything. It was because then you could never make a mistake, you would have to be absolutely perfect, flawless, to make up for the fact that it was you underneath the layer.

So, you settle with a sewn suit that will itch and make the stitches on your ankle sting.

However, when there’s a burst of orange across the room, you have no choice but to forgo the suit, to simply drop the needle and thread and hover your fingers over your web shooters. You wait, nervously, for some other villain to appear. You’re not sure if Spider-man appearing would be better or worse.

But when a foot steps through the portal, it’s nobody familiar. In fact, it’s a suit you have never seen before, made up of dark blues and bright reds, sharp edges and long claws. It’s… unnerving, and considering the silence coming from the person wearing it, you’re not entirely certain of what they’re here for.

A moment later and another person steps through, a woman, with bright yellow lenses across her eyes that filter her irises into an amber. She steps forward, standing beside the person who had stepped through first, and if she hadn’t showed up, you would’ve been tempted to attack. With that being said, you remain on edge, but there’s something… comforting about her presence. Like her presence softens the man’s jagged edges.

She says your name, and then adds, “Arachnid.”

You furrow your brows and curse as you glance back at the suit so crudely laid out on the floor. Still, it doesn’t explain how she knows your name. Was it an inter-dimensional thing?

“Spider-man told us about your work in capturing Doc Ock earlier.” She tells you, as if that explains their presence. You did what you were supposed to do, which was take out the bad guys. “We’re here to offer you a place in the Spider Society.”

You can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of good cop, bad cop thing. She presents an offer which doesn’t sound too bad, and then her sharp-edged companion presents all the drawbacks and the catches. They don’t seem like the type to take no for an answer, either way. You still don’t even know what this Spider Society was! Was it some kind of multi-dimensional cult?

“I already told Spider-man that I wasn’t interested in joining whatever cult you’ve got going on.” You practically hiss, though you didn’t exactly tell him in such blatant words. You were more dismissive earlier, so you’d have to be clear now.

“It’s not a cult,” The man speaks, voice harsh and sharp much like the blades that branch from his forearms. “We work to protect the multiverse from anomalies that threaten to destroy it.”

The woman glances at him in a way that you translate as being vaguely annoyed, like he wasn’t approaching you in the way she had wanted him to. “He means to say that it’s a big job, and we need all the help we can get.” She says, softer, but only in comparison to the man’s harshness. “Listen, kid, you’re good at what you do. We need that kind of talent.”

“You’ll have to find it somewhere else.” You say firmly, because why would you want to leave your universe? This was a lot to think about when you had only learned of the multiverse existing mere hours ago. Regardless, you weren’t about to abandon your city just to go across the multiverse to help other heroes who couldn’t keep a leash on their own villains.

The two of them shared a look, a mere glance, before the woman heaved a sigh. “Look,” She sighed, heavily, like whatever she was about to say was something she didn’t want to be voicing. “Before you make your choice, you should know, your Green Goblin is currently terrorising another universe.”

You couldn’t work out if this was some kind of recruitment tactic, or something. That just wasn’t possible. You had put Gwen Stacy in the highest security prison after all antidotes to her goblin-tech failed. She was stuck in there — permanently. There was no way she had gotten out, let alone gotten out to another universe.

…Right?

It’s hard not to think of the memories at the mention of her—Green Goblin, not Gwen Stacy. Never Gwen Stacy. You wonder if this is where your fear comes from, the terrifying fact that you are remembered only for your mistakes. Because before she was the Green Goblin, she was Gwen. She was everything to you. She was the sun you orbited, the stars that charted your path. And it hurts, it hurts that you can only remember the blood and the dust and the destruction when you think of her.

People aren’t born as monsters, are they?

Like the spider that bit you, that invertebrate that so many fear, it was born the way it was. It was born with those fang-lined maws, with those eight legs and dozens of eyes. It was made into the monster it became, artificially crafted to deliver a venom that changed you forever. But it wasn’t born that way.

Surely, Gwen wasn’t either. She was kind. You remember that about her. You can remember her soft hands that used to hold your own, the loud laughter that always ended in a snort when she laughed at her own jokes, the gentle eyes that stared into your very soul. But those eyes are the very same ones that let her see through your mask, let her see exactly where to hit you to make it hurt. Was that what she was born as? Or is that what she was made into? A killer. A monster.

“Show me.” You say, because what else could you possibly respond? If what they’re saying is true, if the Green Goblin is loose once more, then people will die.

You can’t let her get fresh blood on her hands. Not when somewhere, deep inside your chest, so far down it’s almost unreachable, you have hope for her. You have an innate desire to look for the best in her, even when the Gwen you knew was the first life that the Green Goblin took.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

If there’s one thing you’ve taken from being Arachnid, it’s to expect the unexpected. And you go through the orange portal after Jessica Drew and Miguel O’Hara with that exact mindset about you, staring at where an orange watch-like device is wrapped around your wrist.

It’s in your nature to be suspicious, and these people weren’t an exception to that.

In fact, their presence only heightened that behaviour. After all, what were you to expect from two Spider people, who supposedly came to you for your help?

You weren’t blind, you saw the aged lines of their faces the moment you got close enough to see them clearly, away from the dim lighting of the building. They were adults, adults who had clearly been doing this type of thing a lot longer than you had. You, who was barely bordering on adult, who had fought enough battles already to last a lifetime — so why would they need you?

It didn’t feel right.

And when this Miguel person summoned Lyla the moment you walked through the portal, it felt all the more wrong. She was a hologram of some kind, much higher tech than the kind of thing you saw on your earth. But then again, you had never really been in high tech labs back in your earth. Still, it unsettled you. “Lyla, get me the location of Green Goblin, Earth 5011.” He commanded, and they argued in hushed voices for a moment, before a wider hologram appeared, stamped at Earth 3899.

“How did she get to another universe?” You ask, then, because it doesn’t make sense, and you’re shaking underneath the thin material of your suit. You’re hyper aware of each drag of stitching against the wound on your leg, each patch of fabric you had sewn on in hopes of the suit lasting you just a little longer, because you didn’t have the resource to produce a new one.

“It’s an anomaly.” Jessica Drew tells you, her tone softer than you’d heard it, as if she was attempting to reassure you in some way.

It didn’t help. But how could it? The last time you had faced Gwen Stacy—Green Goblin— you had lost so much. It had been the beginning of the end of everything good in your life. The explosion she had caused at your mother’s laboratory was the very same one that killed her, the very same explosion that sent you and your dad miles apart all while living in the same home. And still, you found a way to hope that there was something to salvage within Gwen.

But not only had you lost your mother, and not long after — your father, you had also lost your closest friend. The one person you had confided in, who knew you from your surface to the deepest level, and she had used that against you the moment the Goblin had taken over.

It had taken everything in you to beat her, back then.

And that was on home turf! How did these people expect you to do that a second time, in a completely unfamiliar place?

“Specifics aren’t important right now. Jessica, you take Arachnid. Lyla, send another one of the teams.” Miguel instructed, dismissing your questions right off the bat. It was frustrating. They were leaving you completely in the dark, and sending you to fight the worst enemy you had ever faced, and they were sending you alongside others like you from different universes. It was like asking you to bare your soul in front of them, to reveal your secrets, your deepest regrets, everything that you wanted to stay buried.

You knew Green Goblin. You knew that’s exactly what she would do. She would undermine you, she would lay your life out in front of you like tiles on a scrabble board. In the end, none of it amounted to much.

Jessica Drew made her way out, glancing at you and nodding for you to follow along. Your moment of hesitation had drawn Miguel’s attention, and he called out to you after a moment of hesitation. “We’ve all faced one like it, kid. It’s easier with others.” He told you, though he held a pained expression on his face all the while. Instead of admitting to the way he had hit the nail right on the head, you simply nodded and followed after Spider-woman.

It was a whirlwind from there.

Meeting up with others. Travelling the length of the so-called Lobby to wherever it was that Jessica was taking you. When you finally arrived, she offered an empty glass box with a mannequin inside, bare. She gestured towards it like it should’ve been self explanatory, but soon realised she’d have to spell it out for you.

You shouldn’t have been so upset by the offer of a new suit.

But you were.

This suit was your life. You had nothing outside of it, not anymore. You couldn’t just throw it away, as if it meant nothing, as if every rip and patch and wonky stitch didn’t mean anything. These were proof that what you were doing was real, that it was worth something. Each stitch proved you had value. You weren’t about to throw all of that away, especially for whatever overly technical suit these people would provide.

You had everything you needed.

And so Jessica led you to the next destination: Earth 3899.

The moment you stepped through the portal, it was like you were hit with a wave of familiarity. And not in a positive, slightly nostalgic way, no— this was chaos. This was the state your world had been in when Green Goblin ran riot, unchecked. She had torn apart buildings, blown up parks, she had set New York City aflame. And she was doing exactly the same here.

It was more contained here than it had been on your earth, and you had to assume that was thanks to the Spider-man already on site, coordinating police, ambulance and fire responses to douse the fires as quickly as she set them. If only the police in your city had trusted you so much, back then.

“Where is she?” You ask, the moment you get close enough to speak to the resident Spider-man of the universe. He looks at you as if you’re familiar, but doesn’t comment, instead just pointing a finger toward a skyscraper just a short way ahead. You’re gone the moment he tells you where to go.

She had the uncanny ability to stay quiet. It had freaked you own back on your own earth, but it was even more terrifying here, where things were ever so slightly different.

“Arachnid.” Gwen’s voice called, and for a moment, you could forget. You could forget every horrible thing the Goblin had done, and you could remember your friend, your Gwen, who had called out to Arachnid more than once without knowing it was you behind the mask. Whether it was for a story or to provide information on your most recent opponent, the voice calling your alias was familiar. But then there was that crackle of laughter, an unnatural gurgle in the way it left her throat, and you turned to see the green-tinged pallor of her skin. “I was so hoping you’d show up.”

You didn’t know how much her appearance would effect you, until you were stuck to the side of the building, staring at what had once been your best friend. You’re so choked up that you can’t even formulate a response, because you want that to be Gwen so badly, but you know it isn’t. The more you look at her, the more Goblin you see, the more you know that the Gwen you love is never coming back.

“Nothing to say?” She asks, and then says your real name, the name she used to say down the crackle of a phone line, or across the school hallway, and she smiles. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“You should’ve stayed in prison, Gwen.” You say, your voice unsteady as you say her name aloud for the first time in what must be forever. She seems to relish in the tremble of your voice, and you have to curse yourself for being so stupid, for already showing the vulnerability she was so easily able to pick out.

The Green Goblin tutted at you, stood atop her glider, but the smile you saw didn’t belong to Gwen. “You’re pathetically predictable, you know. You’re like a moth to the flame.” She tells you, and you fear that she’s right, that you’re the same person you were back when you fought her, back when she almost won. She sighs, like something heavy is weighing upon her, but it turns wistful in the blink of an eye. “I’m just glad your dad isn’t here to see this. He’d be so disappointed.”

“Arachnid, focus.” Jessica’s voice interrupts, before you can spiral down that rabbit hole. How did Gwen even know about your father? She was in prison long before he died. It didn’t make sense.

“Maybe,” You say, that familiar tremble around your words. “He did always hope for the best for you.”

She bares her teeth at your words, the only visible reaction before her mask is slipping over the bottom of her face, stretching out up to pointed ears, all metallic and tinted a murky green. Then, she’s attacking.

It’s muscle memory, mostly, you think.

If you don’t think too hard about it, it could be like playing a game with a longtime friend from your childhood. You know the moves to make, you know how she’ll respond. It’s a constant push and pull, a balance which leaves only destruction behind, the path of the Green Goblin’s wrath tangible in each battle scene the two of you leave behind. You can’t beat her like this.

It’s her glitching that gives you a slight upper hand — and you send her careening off of her glider to the ground below.

Your heart squeezes suddenly in your chest as you watch her fall, her eyes wide in what could almost be perceived as fear. If you didn’t intervene, would she die? Would you have put an end to her story, once and for all, when you secretly hope there’s a cure out there for her? You can’t bear the thought of finding out, of watching her die, and so you foolishly dive after her.

A web to her midsection allows you to grip her before she hits the ground, and you set her down with a far more gentle hand than you would ever admit.

She says your name, then, a whispered version of it that sounds like Gwen. You think you can see her in those wide blue eyes, in that stare, and you approach with some caution. “Gwen,” You say, more of a question, “You with me?”

“I’m with you,” She answers, as you reach her side, as you resist the urge to pull off your mask. You’re so preoccupied staring at her expression that you don’t see the blade until it’s too late, your Spidey-sense failing you as you wallowed in your search for someone who was gone. “You sweet, predictable bug.” She spits then, twisting the blade she had sunk deep into your side, and you writhe, trying to move away from her.

“Arachnid!” Jessica Drew calls out, drawing the Green Goblin’s attention, allowing you to pull away from her slackened grasp. You leave the blade where it is, knowing your only slightly enhanced healing wouldn’t make up for the onslaught of blood that would pour from the wound. “I think that’s enough, Green Goblin.” Jessica says, riding a motorbike that you swore she didn’t have earlier. Nonetheless, she uses it to put even more space between you and your villain.

“You need a hand, kid?” A new voice asks, and a gloved hand reaches out for you where you had knelt against the tarmac. You look up, seeing a new Spider-man, but this one has his mask up, showing off his aged face and the bags underneath his eyes. You wave him off, staggering up to your feet, and clench your jaw as you stare at Green Goblin, watch as she pulls bombs from her waistband, barely the size of a chocolate bar, but capable of causing irreparable damage. “Get back to HQ, Arachnid, we can handle this.” Spider-man tells you, in what you suspect to be a fatherly voice, but you ignore him.

Time flies, slips out of your grasp, and you don’t know how long you and the others spend fighting Green Goblin, but she proves to be just as difficult of a foe for them to face as she was for you. Each time the three of you manage to get the drop on her, she slips away before she could be caught. It’s frustrating, and you can even see the way irritation thickens in the air, tangible.

Spider-man, or Peter, as Jessica had called him, is with you, focusing on trying to take Green Goblin down, whilst Jessica Drew is focused on damage control, blowing up Gwen’s bombs before they could hit their intended targets. You’re pretty sure the resident Spider-man is around here, too, pulling any lingering citizens out of harms way before Green Goblin could end them. You’d admit, it works better than you had done alone back on your own earth.

But it doesn’t work well enough, and more than one building is damaged almost beyond repair, and in the dust and rubble, Peter was distracted by the few citizens poking their heads out of the gaping hole in the side of their apartments. He didn’t see Green Goblin coming until it was too late, until she had thrown two of her bombs, one towards him, and one towards the already wrecked building.

Your throat dries up as you try to figure out what to do, who to go for, but in the end, you don’t have to choose.

Beams of glowing orange webs shoot into the bombs where they arc towards their victims, blowing them up and leaving both Peter and the civilians in the apartments without a scratch on any of them. Well, nothing that wasn’t already there before. You see him then, running alongside Jessica Drew, none other than Miguel O’Hara — who clearly didn’t think that the three of you were capable of handling Green Goblin.

“We’ve gotta end this.” Peter tells the three of you, glaring over at Green Goblin after coming so close to one of her bombs.

“You distract, I’ll go in.” You say, the only plan that makes sense. The only plan that’ll work. You wouldn’t be much use as a distraction, not with the blood still pooling around the blade hanging from your side, but you could beat her. You knew you could.

Peter nodded, and he, Jessica and Miguel went in one after another, landing hits on Green Goblin before she could even think to withdraw another bomb, or land a hit of her own, whilst you made your way behind her, swinging as high as you dared to go in your state. She was getting angry, you could tell, a distinct flush rushing up the back of her neck, a tell that Green Goblin shared with Gwen.

It was only when she was starting to turn the tide that you jumped down from your spot against the side of a building, looking for your opening.

She sent Jessica Drew tumbling off of her motorbike, which was your chance.

Green Goblin heard you only a moment before you were on her, not giving her a chance to make a countermove. Instead, you were curling your arms around her, as tight as you could, holding her hands away from her waistband. You gripped the blade in your side and yanked it out, holding it to her chest, breathing heavily through the pain as you bared your teeth at her, her face beside your own.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You say, and try not to hear the pleading in your own voice, the distinctive tone of a beg. You may have the upper hand on her, but as always, she had the power. “Don’t.” You repeat, because you can feel it in your bones that you would do it. If it was the choice between her or the hundreds that she would kill on this world, it would be those hundreds. There was no doubt about it, no questions to be asked.

You may have resented your mother, but she wasn’t the only one who died because of the Green Goblin. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

Perhaps she heard the plea in your voice, the giveaway that you weren’t bluffing, because she went still in your arms, still enough for the other Spiders to approach with some caution, eyes on her hands where you held them away from any weapons, using your forearm connected to the hand holding the blade to her chest to keep her left hand from grasping anything.

“I won’t be asking again.” You tell her, which is as much of a threat as you can muster. Or, more so, a promise.

As Miguel pushed you back with a firm hand, throwing a machine at Gwen’s feet, you think she understands. If the two of you are ever in that position again, there will be no hesitation about it. You will kill her.

“Good work, kid.” Peter says as Miguel and Jessica get to work with getting your Green Goblin through a portal to the HQ. He glanced down at where your hand is now pressing into your side, blood pouring steadily. In your other hand, you still hold the blade that had pierced your own skin, that would have killed Gwen Stacy had she not surrendered. He winces as if it’s him who got hurt, and guides you through the portal after the others. “C’mon, we’ll get you checked out. You not got enhanced healing?” He asks, though you suspect he doesn’t expect you to answer, and you’re glad.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“I can do this myself, you know.” You sigh, wincing as a Spider-man — who apparently is also a doctor and works in the Spider Society’s infirmary — stitches up the wound on your midsection. It’s uncomfortable, though less painful that when you do it yourself. Still, it’s uncomfortable to accept help from these strangers.

“Ooh, shouldn’t say that to him.” Peter B. Parker laughs, one of the many Peter Parkers of the Society, but the same one who had fought Green Goblin with you. “He’ll lecture you on proper healthcare for days if you give him the opportunity!”

The Spider-doctor glares at Peter, or you assume he does, from the slight squint of the lenses of his mask. He kisses his teeth under the mask, tutting, muttering about “Spiders and their complete disregard for their health. Lucky you haven’t died ten times over from infections.” But he doesn’t say anything that requires a response from you, and he soon finished up the stitches. He goes to offer to fix up the injury on your ankle, but you’re up on your feet before he can even get the words out.

“Now, I gotta get back home to the wife, but Miguel wants to see you. He’ll take you home,” Peter tells you as he walks out of the infirmary by your side, but he stops you in the hallway with a hand on your shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “If that’s what you want.”

Your eyebrows furrowed before you could stop them, and the confusion over his words must’ve been written all over your face.

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” You ask, defensively.

Peter opens his mouth, but nothing escapes. Instead, it’s his expression that tells you everything he’s thinking. The crease between his brows screams pitying, or sympathetic. He’s talking about the way you live back on your earth, about the life you lead, Arachnid by day, and by night. With no room for you, no room for your secret identity. He’s thinking of the way you’ll be returning to a world with nobody awaiting you, with not a soul to look out for you, to stitch you up after a battle. Nobody but yourself, anyway.

You pull away from him, brows furrowing further, into an almost angered expression, and you don’t watch the way his hand falls away from your shoulder back to his side. He sighs when you turn away, scoffing as you make your way through the hallways of the Lobby towards where you think Miguel will be.

It’s overwhelming, all of these people. They all believe that they know you, that they know your circumstances, your story, but the truth is that they don’t. Nobody does, and that’s the way you prefer it. You don’t need a Society of Spiders surrounding you, breathing down your neck, telling you they’re sorry, or not trusting you to handle yourself in your own fights, because you can handle yourself. You’ve spent the last year of your life trying to prove that, trying to prove that you can do good things, that you’re worthy of the title Arachnid. You certainly shouldn’t need to prove that to a whole Society of people like you, most of which had been doing the job a lot longer.

You’re capable and you’re content.

You don’t need a life as your secret identity to be content, in fact, it’s better without one. You don’t have to tell so many lies, don’t have to worry about hurting the people you love, because there are none of them left. There’s nobody to hurt, and there’s nobody to lie to. Why would you want to change that?

The hallway ahead looks familiar, and you follow it until you enter a room where Miguel stands, looking at orange tinted screens on a platform halfway up the room. You enter with the absolute certainty that you want to return to your own earth, and you’re not going to let anybody stop you.

“I’m ready.” You tell him, expectantly.

He scoffs, saying nothing, still staring at the screens in front of him. For whatever reason, the reaction makes you angry — inexplicably so. You’re slinging up to the platform before you can have a second thought about it, and you’re pushing his shoulder so he’ll face you, so he’ll acknowledge you.

He stares at you, unimpressed.

“Send me back to my earth.” You press, brows furrowed beneath your mask, but you’re sure he can see the anger in the way your shoulders tense up.

“Sure,” Miguel said blankly, staring at you as if you’d suddenly change your mind or something. “But you know, there’s a lot more like her.” He added on when you said nothing, waiting for him to send you back to your world so you could give him back the stupid watch still wrapped around your wrist.

You stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “There are no more like her.” You respond, feeling that hot press on your chest. You don’t want to talk about Gwen Stacy anymore than you’re sure he’d like to talk about whatever he had gone through in his life. Hell, you don’t even want to think about her, but you know that nobody else you would ever have to face would hurt you in the way that she did. In the way that having to see her as an enemy, rather than your friend, had hurt. So, yeah, there was nobody like her, not for you.

Miguel seems ready to let you go for a moment, but then he’s shaking his head at you. “You have a place here. You can be with people like you. You don’t have to do this alone, anymore.” He says, and you think that is ironic, because you don’t see anybody else in here. To you, it seems like he is doing exactly that; doing the job alone. You can practically see the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I prefer being alone.” You tell him, and it has to be true. It has to be.

His jaw sets, acceptance, you think, and he nods. He glances past you, to where a portal was open on the floor below. Considering that you hadn’t seen him set up the portal, you’d wager that his AI Lyla must’ve listened in and done it for him. You pull the watch off of your wrist, relishing in the way your very atoms seem to sag with the weight of being in another dimension.

“Thanks.” You say, and drop down, landing on your sore ankle but not murmuring a word about the pain. You walk back to your world with your head held high, despite your tattered suit and multitude of wounds that would take days to stop hurting.

Miguel stares after you as the portal closes, eyebrows furrowed. He barely acknowledges Jessica Drew’s arrival in the room, already having known she had been lingering in the hallway, listening in. “Well, that went well.” She comments, glancing between where the portal had been and where Miguel stands, brooding. She knows how much pressure he puts on himself, and she knows that he cares about each and every Spider-person in the multiverse. It doesn’t take a Spider-sense to see the way in which you struggle. It’s a familiar struggle, sure, but there were so many Spiders across the multiverse who had a shoulder to lean on in their hardest times. Who did you have? There was no Aunt May for Arachnid, or Gwen Stacy, or Harry Osborne, or, well, anybody.

Jessica thinks that if anybody were to know exactly how that felt, it would be Miguel.

#heartpascal writes #across the spiderverse spoilers #atsv spoilers #spiderman atsv spoilers #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x platonic reader #jessica drew x platonic reader #peter b parker x platonic reader #peter b parker x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x platonic reader #spiderverse x you #spiderverse imagines #spiderverse one shot #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse angst #miguel o’hara angst #struggling idk how to tag with a new fandom shhh

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