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amazingmsme · 7 months

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Listen Here Punk!

AN: Day 2 comin' in hot! I didn't really intend to do 2 spiderverse fics in a row, but they fit the prompts. Been wanting to write something with Hobie & Miguel, & this idea just jumped out at me!

Miguel didn't necessarily mind sharing his lab space. He knew he had state of the art equipment, and quite frankly everyone wanted to get their hands on it. He'd never admit it in a million years, but he liked the quiet company of someone working nearby with the low hum of machinery droning on in the background.

But that's the thing: he liked quiet company. And Hobie was being anything but.

Hobie had asked him if he could use his 3-D printer while he was in the lunch line. He said sure and shooed him away, and he'd expected he'd be gone by the time he made it back to his office. Needless to say, it was wishful thinking.

Not only was he still there, but he had a damn boombox with him, and it was blaring heavy rock much too loud for his ears.

"Hey I'm back, could you turn it down?" he shouted as he walked in. Hobie looked right at him, and didn't turn it down, so he repeated himself. "Hey, could you turn it down?"

Much to his dismay, Hobie locked their gazes and cranked the volume up.

Miguel glared and marched over, turning the volume so low it was barely audible. Just as he made it back to his desk, the music blared so loud it made him jump.

He whipped around and noticed the way Hobie was hunched over his project sporting a sly smirk.

"Hobie, this isn't funny. I'm asking nicely, please turn off the music," he said, a final warning.

"See, an' I'm trynna give you a better taste in music," he quipped, snickering to himself quietly. If it weren't for Miguel's superhuman hearing, he probably wouldn't have heard it over the deep bass coming through the speakers.

"I'd like it a hell of a lot better if you turned it down!" he yelled, voice barely raising above the music.

"Well that's no way to listen to this kinda music, bruv," he teased, turning the volume dial up even more.

That seemed to be the last straw, because Miguel snapped. He slammed his hand on the boombox and turned it off before setting his sights on Hobie, who was trying hard to play it cool.

"We all know cats land on their feet, let's see if it's he same for spiders, eh?" he asked, walking him closer to the edge of the platform. It was only 15 feet off the ground, so he really wasn't worried about actually hurting him.

"Wait a minute, I was just jokin'!" he tried justifying his behavior, but it was too late. Miguel grabbed him under his arms, hoisting him in the air as he was about to chuck him off. But then he started giggling.

"P-put mehehe dohohown!" he pleaded, legs kicking frantically. His outline grew more sketchy and erratic, his colors more vibrant. Miguel was in such shock, that he did just that... But he didn't let him go. Something Hobie realized with growing fear.

A giddy, terrified grin played at his lips as he clamped his arms to his sides, keeping Miguel's hands trapped in his pits. His own hands were clutching Miguel's forearms for dear life.

"You don't have to do this mate," he pleaded, though excitement glimmered in his eyes.

Miguel clicked his tongue, cocking his head to the side. "I kinda do though. You deliberately went against me, then tried to play it off as a joke-"

"It was a joke!"

"Don't interrupt me," he said sternly, wiggling his fingers in warning. It sent him sputtering, doubling over in his grasp as he tried to fight off the mirth that was building up in his chest. "It's rude. Just like turning up the volume after being asked politely to turn it down," he said sternly, though Hobie could've sworn he saw a fleeting smile.

"Ihihi'm sohohorry!" he caved rather quickly, having heard the rumors of how ruthless Miguel could be.

"Thanks, but I really don't believe you. I mean, you're laughing through your apology! That seems far from sincere to me," he taunted, drilling his thumbs in the center of his pits, making him scream.

"Ihihit's literally your fahahahault!" he cried, stomping his feet as he tried to run out of his grip, with no payoff. His feet simply scraped against the floor as he stayed put.

"Wooow, I didn't expect you to be one to victim blame," he teased.

"I'm the bloody victim here!" Hobie yelped, squirming around in Miguel's hold. "L-lehehet me gohoho!"

"Hmm, I don't know if I should," he wondered aloud, drumming his fingers down his ribs. Hobie doubled over, hugging his arms to his chest as deep belly laughs and sporadic snorts filled the air. "I mean, do you really deserve mercy after that little stunt?" Miguel added, not even bothering to hide his smirk anymore.

"Yehehes Ihihi do!" he insisted, having to lean against Miguel for support as his knees buckled.

He chuckled and shook his head, releasing him from his hold. "Fine. But next time, just listen to me punk. It'll save us both the head ache," he said, giving him a pat on the back as he walked over to his monitors.

"Yeah right, you totally enjoyed that. Smug ass," Hobie quipped, having regained his breath fairly quickly. Miguel looked at him from over his shoulder, arching a brow.

"You want me to actually throw you off?" he threatened in warning.

"Nah I'm leavin' 'm leavin'," he mumbled, stepping off the edge, letting himself fall for a few seconds before shooting a web to catch himself.

Hobie ended up forgetting his boombox. When he remembered a few hours later, he was more than amused to find Miguel, working while listening to music. The same music he had complained about earlier.

"That's funny, thought you didn't like it," he quipped, making his presence known as he walked up from behind. Miguel didn't even flinch.

"Never said I didn't like it. Just asked you to turn it down."

#tickletober 2023 #tickletober #tickletober day 2 #hobie brown #miguel o'hara #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman atsv #atsv fic #spiderman atsv fic #spiderman atsv tickle fic #atsv tickle fic #ticklish!hobie

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tickly-tufts · 9 months

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Date Night

in which mj bullies miguel with thigh tickles cuz i have brainrot and wanted to treat myself

—

Unsurprisingly, it was Peter’s fault.

“I am… so sorry.”

Muffled through a palm that barely hid a grin, the apology was entirely unconvincing.

“Yeah, I can tell you’re just wracked with guilt,” Miguel deadpanned, feeling dead inside. He would’ve rubbed his temple if he’d been able, but neither arm was stuck close enough to his head. His next move might’ve been to use his claws, if he’d had the range of motion for it. Unfortunately, there was little one could do when they were half-encased in webbing.

It was the end result of a series of mishaps, comical for Peter, miserable for Miguel. In short, there’d been a Spiderman experimenting with new web fluid, high-strength to the point that it’d jammed their web-shooter. Much to everyone’s surprise, they’d turned to Peter B. Parker for help. Flattered, he’d promised to take a look at the web-shooter… then promptly misplaced it in Miguel’s lair.

And then, because the only thing worse than Parker luck was O’Hara luck, Miguel had been the one to find it.

On the floor.

By stepping on it.

“Wow, you’re super stuck on there, huh?” Peter tugged at the webbing on Miguel’s chest. It wrapped across his entire torso, too thick to simply pull apart. In contrast, Miguel’s lower body had nearly been spared, bearing only a handful of web clumps. Unfortunately, that still proved enough to bind his legs, trapping him in an odd lean against the wall.

“I can whip up a solvent in the lab, but it’ll take time,” Peter warned, getting serious. Then he exhaled ruefully. “Of course this happened on date night… MJ’s gonna be bummed.”

Honestly, Miguel was disappointed, too. He’d been looking forward to his evening with the Parkers. However, before he could consider admitting it, Peter suddenly brightened and lifted his watch.

“I just had the best idea.”

—

MJ had visited Nueva York before, but the portals were still a novelty to her. Stepping from her sunny living room into Miguel’s shaded sanctum resulted in some stumbling as her eyes adjusted.

“¡Cuidado!” Miguel hissed out in alarm when she nearly ran into a shelf. Quickly course-correcting, MJ followed his voice, eventually locating the correct corner.

“Oh, Migs,” she sighed when she saw him, reaching out to cradle his face. Instinctively, Miguel leaned forward, though he couldn’t actually get any closer.

“How much did Peter tell you?” Miguel asked while her thumb brushed soothingly against his cheek.

“Enough to know our dinner plans won’t be happening, but I can still keep you company while Peter fixes this mess.” MJ then paused, realizing something. “Is Lyla not with you? I thought she lived here.”

Miguel shrugged, or at least tried to. “She’s assigned to monitoring the multiverse tonight.” He scowled a bit. “I got her to call Peter, but that’s as far as she needs to be involved in this.”

MJ’s lips quirked up in amusement. “Because she’ll make fun of you?”

“…She already did.”

Miguel pouted, and unable to resist, MJ kissed him, nice and slow. “You poor thing,” she murmured when they parted, pleased to see him looking slightly dazed. “Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

Miguel raised an eyebrow at her tone. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but what can you do while I’m webbed up like this?”

MJ looked down, and Miguel followed her gaze, realizing then that she stood between his legs. There was some space separating their bodies, but it couldn't have been more than an inch. “Depends on how much you can feel through the suit,” she practically purred, giving his left thigh a squeeze. MJ had meant for it to be flirtatious... only to jump when Miguel jolted violently.

“Miguel?!” she cried out in concern, then registered that he'd also made a sound. Not one of pain, nor pleasure like she'd aimed for, but- “Wait a second, are you…? Here?”

Miguel froze as MJ reassessed him, eyes roaming curiously across his legs. Hyperaware of where her thoughts were leading, he barely suppressed the urge to shiver. He did shiver when she grabbed herself a seat, scooting in right between his knees. Placing a hand on top of each thigh, she smiled up at him... then started kneading.

“SHOCK!” Miguel screeched before he crumbled, cackling without any restraint. Both MJ and Peter had tickled him before, but no one had gone for the thighs since… well, Xina. It was even worse than he remembered, and he'd remembered it being pretty embarrassing. His ex had never let him live it down, and evidently, it was back to haunt him.

“How did we not know about this?” MJ marveled, alternating between legs. She massaged upwards from his knees, which might’ve been relaxing for anyone else. Miguel writhed within the cluster of webbing, eyes squeezed shut as tightly as possible. They shot back open when MJ moved inwards, pinching along his inner thighs.

“¡Mierda!” escaped him more like a whine than a curse, as he flung his head back, giggling uncontrollably. MJ only did this for a minute before withdrawing in astonishment.

“So that’s all it takes to get the fangs out, huh?” She could not have been more delighted. “Aww, no, don’t be shy!” she protested when Miguel rushed to hide them. Thinking fast, she switched to scratching, honing in on the thickest part of his thighs. Miguel promptly lost his mind, fangs flashing openly as he wailed with mirth.

Scratching eventually eased into grazing, granting Miguel a break, though not enough to stop smiling. He allowed his fangs to peek out from his mouth, if only to garner more mercy from MJ.

“Such a cute smile,” MJ cooed, smirking when Miguel turned his head away, flustered. She and Peter had realized quite early on that direct praise worked wonders on him. Speaking of which- “Peter’s really missing out… We’ll definitely have to fill him in later.”

Miguel tried not to think too hard about all the things Peter might do with that knowledge.

As soon as Miguel was reasonably recovered, MJ resumed her exploration with the backs of his thighs. Miguel’s legs trembled as MJ’s fingers climbed them, but that wasn’t the part that got him giggling again.

“Oh my god.” MJ couldn’t stop grinning when she finally noticed where her hand had wandered. “Seriously? Your ass is ticklish? Peter is gonna love this so much.” She was very tempted to linger there herself, but Miguel's position just wasn't ideal for it. Sitting back, she examined him again, contemplating her other options.

“Will I regret asking what you’re thinking?” Miguel questioned cautiously.

MJ looked pensive, then mischievous.

“There's just one more thing I have to try.”

—

The solvent was done sooner than he’d expected. Future tech really never ceased to amaze. Peter swung his way back to Miguel’s lair in record time, fully prepared to announce himself, until-

“¡POR DIOS, ERES UNA SÁDICA!”

The exclamation made him rear back. It had obviously come from Miguel, but what the hell was making him sound like that?

Peter’s spider-sense wasn’t going off at all, but just to be safe, he crept forward in stealth mode. He nearly abandoned it to charge in when he heard what sounded like a sob. Experience kept him grounded, though. If something bad was happening, he needed the upper hand. Then he finally rounded the corner, and apprehension made way for awe.

He’d seen MJ tickle Miguel before, poking playfully at his sides, or even nibbling at his neck. Peter and MJ had both picked up on the fact he never genuinely tried to stop her. It was one of Peter’s favorite discoveries about Miguel, even if Miguel rarely made it that easy for him. With all that in mind, though, Peter still wasn’t ready to find MJ tickling Miguel to tears.

“Nonono- ¡No puedo más!” Miguel was babbling between hysterics. Meanwhile, Peter’s very lovely wife was digging into the crease of his thighs. The webs holding Miguel showed off their strength, hardly letting him thrash, much less escape. Miguel’s desperation only intensified as MJ’s fingers migrated inward.

Mary Jane could be a menace. Peter had known that for years. He was pretty sure that after this, Miguel would never forget it either. With MJ scribbling right between his thighs, he broke down within seconds.

“¡No más! Please! Stohohop, plehease!” Miguel begged breathlessly, hitting his limit.

And because MJ was mean but never cruel, she pulled back without any hesitation.

Peter waited another minute for Miguel to calm down, while MJ gently brushed tears from his eyes. He couldn’t make out whatever she was whispering, but he could guess from the way Miguel nuzzled her palm. “Hope I’m not ruining a tender moment,” Peter piped up then, revealing himself. All attention snapped to him, and in greeting, he pulled out the solvent.

“…How long were you watching?” Miguel asked once he'd been fully freed from the wall.

“Pretty sure I heard you call my wife a sadist,” Peter answered cheerfully.

Miguel flushed. MJ laughed. Peter was incredibly in love with them both.

He did wish he'd gotten a turn, though... Maybe they could pencil it in next date night.

#tickling #spideysjane #pbm&ms #spiderparents #miguel o'hara #mary jane watson #peter b parker #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #a tickly fic

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toweroftickles · 1 year

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No Ticket, No Entry

(Miles/Gwen Tickle Fic)

If you're a cop's kid, they say there are only two possibilities: you become a cop yourself, or one of the crooks he chases. For Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy, it was a little bit of both. Equipped with an arsenal of stickers and spray cans, Miles was always the more prone to troublemaking of the two. Gwen usually required a little more prodding.

But what kind of self-respecting teenager, at some point, hasn’t snuck into a movie theater?

The two perched high on lampposts on the street outside, perfectly hidden from passerby behind the blinding lights. It was one of those small local Queens theaters that had been around since the dawn of time, the kind that still used traditional signs, where even the color on the bricks had started to chip off. Red neon letters flashed cheerfully at them above the marquee. It was a chilly spring night.

"Alright, Spider-Boy; let's see whatcha got," the ghostly white Gwen teased with a wink.

“‘Spider-Boy?’ C’mon, that’s a low blow,” chuckled Miles.

“Hey, invisible guy successfully nabs us some snacks; then we can talk about upgrading your moniker," she giggled. With a flick of her wrist, a thin strand of web fluid whisked Gwen up to the roof, and left Miles alone on his vantage point, where he vanished with perfect camouflage. His gloves and boots squeaked on the glass foyer windows. There was quite a crowd...he had to squeeze quickly between the doorframe and a very fat woman in a fur coat, but no one was the wiser.

Both he and his girlfriend felt the pulse-pounding thrill of breaking the rules. A little bit of the old anxious butterflies flitted around their stomachs…what’s worse than getting caught? But they really shouldn't have worried. This was a world where superheroes, aliens, gods and monsters all ran around New York like it was their own personal Super Smash Bros. arena. All that Randall the overweight 15-year-old counter clerk thought about, when he saw a haunted bag of popcorn mysteriously sliding away around the gaudy orange wall corner, was the fact that he didn't get paid nearly enough to care.

Getting through the doors, crawling up the ceiling and behind the counter, and grabbing armfuls of food undetected was the easy part. The tricky thing was getting it all into the screening room. He & Gwen were already a few minutes late...a strategic maneuver. The way-too-loud trailers were audible outside the door. All Miles had to do was hide behind the back counter, wait for a break in the crowd, and sprint in and up the wall, resisting the urge to hum the sneaky Castle Garden music from Ocarina of Time while he did so.

All the popcorn bags, hot dogs, drinks, and what-have-you were webbed up all nice and snug in the back right corner of the theater's star-covered ceiling, opposite from the door and behind the other seats. A soft metal clunking sound that only his enhanced ears could pick up, like a knock on a metal door, lured Miles up back across to the overhang above the entrance. Even the walls were coated in carpet, but there was a single rectangular hole covered by a cheap iron grate, which led to the building's ventilation ducts. And behind it, smiling and waving at him, was his girlfriend.

"Hey there," she whispered. Miles' mask was lifted just enough that his mouth was visible. Even under the mask, though, he was clearly raising his eyebrows in that classic Dwayne Johnson way.

"Heeyyyyyy," he replied, trying to look cool and unaware that his face was wearing a patchy beard of popcorn kernels. Gwen bit her lip and tried not to smile too much...she thought it was cute.

“I can’t believe these dorks still haven’t noticed the opening is unscrewed!” It took nearly a full 30 seconds to crawl out and slide the grate back into place with as little noise as possible. Miles tossed Gwen a box of M&Ms, careful of the rattling. If the guy in the projection booth had looked down through the window, he might have noticed the snickering teenagers crawling along beneath his shadow.

It was like any other movie night, only huddled in the far corner of the room and fifteen feet off the ground. (It was some comedy movie, the details of which they barely cared about. Something to do with horses, a wedding, and Danny McBride eating a truck tire.) They whispered. They laughed. They stole each other's food. They tried to sneak looks at their smartphones, and always chided the other for doing the exact same thing. Miles almost tried the cliche "accidentally hold hands via popcorn bucket" trick, but he was too embarrassed...so Gwen smoothly slid her gloved palm into his anyway. In the dim blue glow, after all, he couldn't see her blush.

"Man, sitting this way is startin' to hurt my back."

"Heheheh...I'm gonna watch from here. You think someone'll notice?" Gwen said playfully. Grinning, the Ghost Spider raised from her place at Miles' left, crawled up above ("Hey! Where you going?") and sat down Indian-style right on the ceiling at his 10:00 position. Twinkling glow-in-the-dark stickers lit up the area around her. Despite her years of experience, she never really got over the novelty of being able to hang upside down whenever and wherever she wanted. When she fully demasked, both of the heroes laughed quietly at the sight of her blonde hair dangling toward the floor.

"Oh, so what, now you don't care about anyone seeing you?" Miles perked up instantly and tossed popcorn her way.

"Shhh! We've gotta still be quiet!" Gwen laughed back at him. The tension in her shoulders had wound down throughout the evening...she was feeling a little more mischievous.

"Oh, we do, huh? Yeah, we do?"

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Miles' left arm reached up and poked her in the side.

These skintight superhero catsuits were many things, but one thing they were NOT: tickle-proof. Thankfully, a character in the movie had just cracked a joke, and everyone in the audience was in a fit of laughter…no one heard it when Gwen’s chipper giggle blurted out.

Her eyes bugged out of her head. Her hand slapped over her vulnerable spot. She tried not to show it, even (especially?) in front of Miles, but the universe-hopping Stacy daughter was remarkably ticklish; even gentle back scratches could make her squeak and writhe like a bowl of jello. And deep down, she hated the sound of her throaty, husky laugh. She always gasped so much; it almost sounded more like hiccups than laughter.

"Quit it!" she snapped, looking back at Miles. Her mouth looked happy...he loved seeing that little gap in her buck teeth when she grinned; it was so dorky...but her eyes were panicked. Which, of course, just egged him on.

As soon as she wasn't looking, her boyfriend stretched out his arm again and squeezed her belly with all five fingers, and Gwen doubled over, giggling fiercely.

"HNGHEE!!" she exhaled hard; all the wind was knocked out of her.

She kept shoving his wrist, hissing at him, trying to get him to cut it out, but he was acting like an obnoxious little brother in the back seat of a car...all that was missing was for him to squawk "I'm not touching you!" on repeat. Every time she moved Miles' hand aside to one place, he swung his arm back and pinched her side or jabbed between her ribs. Limbs flying everywhere...it was practically a slap-fight.

Poke...poke....poke. Over and over.

All these little touches were making her all tingly, building up a storm of hysterics that Gwen was struggling to contain. Her Spider-Sense was blaring a full four-alarm siren, for all the good it did against someone who was just as fast as her.

"Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle," Miles teased her in a cartoonishly high-pitched voice.

“S-stop it! We’re gonna get caught!” She was frustrated now. It was true…down below, patrons had begun looking around in circles, trying to determine where that annoying noise was coming from, and who exactly they should pelt with half-eaten nachos.

Sealing her lips tightly, Gwen held her breath and swiveled to face the screen again. She was anxiously rubbing her crossed ankles while fixated on the movie, an action that drew Miles’ eye to the seafoam green ballet shoes which lurked, upside-down, just above his hair.

Meh...that'll work.

Just when she started to take her mind off the chortles, Gwen gasped. A finger was tracing along the outer lip of her right shoe.

"Don't...you...dare..."

Miles' hooked digit clawed around inside Gwen's slipper and gently scratched the arch of her foot through her black spandex tights. She could almost feel the electric tingles of his venom-touch buzzing up her leg…it made her whole body jitter, and she jumped nearly hard enough to unstick from the ceiling.

“HAA-Huh! *gasp*wheeze* Huhuh-Heheh, Haha! St-hop!” Gwen snorted loudly and clapped her hands over her mouth. Her flailing legs untangled from their self-made pretzel. “Heehee-Heh, Huh-Huh! *gasp* Heheh!”

She froze. A cold fear dripped down Gwen’s neck. Internally, she was shooting off every curse word she could think of. After a moment to catch her breath, once her laughter subsided, Gwen slowly opened a single eye…

…and there, below her, was her worst fear. The crowd was staring up at her, trying to make out the girl-shaped shadow in the theater’s back corner.

"Hey, it's Spider-Woman!"

"Woo! Spider-Girl, down here!"

"Wait I thought she was called Ghost-Spider..."

Thank god it was dark enough that no one could see her face properly; her mask was back on in milliseconds.

"Oh, shit shit shit; Miles, we've gotta - " Gwen quickly snapped her head to the side, but there was nothing there...nothing but an empty, dark corner where her boyfriend had once sat. He’d gone invisible and slipped out. The eyes of her costume narrowed into burning little strips of pink, like a pair of furious electric earthworms.

".....oh, you've gotta be freaking kidding me."

THUD!! BANG! Hard aluminum sheets buckled and wobbled under Gwen’s fingertips. She scurried through the air vents at a blistering pace, often sliding too far around a corner - CRUNCH! ow, that’s definitely an elbow bruise - and doubling back. Her legs nearly outran her arms, throwing themselves up and over each other, rushing to an ever-closer window of purple moonlight.

Her heart beat a thousand times a minute.

Freedom.

On the rooftop, Gwen yanked up her mask and sucked in the foggy night air. Breathing hard…whewwww….over and over. Its cool touch soothed the burning in her cheeks. Her slippers slapped against the stone and plaster. Alongside her own weary gasps, Gwen eventually heard another sound…one that made her temperature rise once more.

Miles, chuckling to himself right beside her.

“Heh-Heh…kind of a big change-up from how we met, huh?” he offered, a smug smile on his face.

"Miles!!" Gwen hissed under her breath, and slapped her boyfriend on the arm.

"Ow! Why you whispering? We're up here by ourselves."

“Uuugh. This is why you get in trouble with your dad! You are soooo lucky this universe doesn’t have mine. You seriously can't stop goofing around for more than 2 seconds even when...”

“So is that like your Kryptonite? You can’t win a fight if you’re being tickled?” laughed Miles. The question made Gwen go red in the face again. She was about to garble some kind of flustered protest, but something caught her eye and stopped her...from inside his sleeve, Miles produced some sort of shiny metal stick. It was kinda like those memory-erasers from that one dumb alien movie her dad liked.

"Well, you know...I was thinkin' while we were up here, maybe we could have a....uhhh, private show." Miles flipped over to the brick lip of the roof and squatted down. At his feet he placed the little silver tube, centered it, and clicked a button. "C'mere; check this out."

Along its side, a narrow slit opened up, pulsing a deep yellow color. Inside it, glowing photons waved back at Gwen like a sea of tiny stars, humming softly. A shower of light rushed up from the strip like an inverse waterfall until the little particles reached a rectangular shape, then scurried in all directions to paint the night sky alongside their far-off galactic brothers. Draped above Gwen & Miles, like a canopy, floated a holographic screen just for them. (Unknown to Gwen, exactly twelve feet below them, inside the projection booth, a red, spider-shaped, USB-compatible goober clicked into place against the room’s laptop. Its feed was being copied and streamed perfectly.)

"Wow......" Gwen seemed impressed, but paused when she realized….

"Wait, was this whole night just so you could show that gizmo off?"

"Ehhhh....maybe," shrugged Miles. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his head with his left hand. But as she thought about it, Gwen wasn’t even mad. She just laughed all over again.

A little web pillow was all it took to make the setup complete. Grabbing a fistful of popcorn from the sole leftover bag that Miles had carried with him, Gwen laid back against the nearby roof fan and shoveled the snacks into her mouth, excitedly looking up at the big projector above. And her boyfriend plopped down just to her left side, arms crossed and relaxed.

Strangely, the noise of the insomniac city streets below, the feet clicking on pavement, the rushing and honking of cab horns, didn't bother them. The movie played perfectly alongside the calming sounds of New York, and there was something strangely enchanting about it. Reaching up, Gwen’s hands came to rest behind her head and propped her against the pillow, and she sighed contentedly. A sweet smile washed over her.

"You know…" she said, "...I think I do kinda like this better, Spider-Man.”

Miles often made himself sick with worry about how their relationship was going. She was sooo much cooler than him. What was the next step? What if he did something to embarrass her? But for a few moments, all those fears melted away while he watched the projector's light dance reflected on her cheek.

He also realized, as his prankster side whispered in his ear, he was in a perfect position to sneakily tickle her armpit without her noticing. Both her hands were behind her head.

Almost on a reflex, his index finger bent and slowly hovered toward her...

….but he suddenly thought better of it.

Nah. Let's just enjoy the movie.

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sunstone-smiles · 9 months

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Measuring Mishap

(I’m sorry that the picture is so blurry-)

Author’s note: Another fic with Miguel after I said I would only make one? I couldn’t help myself. Can you blame me? Lol! I hope you enjoy!

Series: Across the Spider-Verse

Characters: Miguel O’Hara and Lyla

Word count: 2,242

Summary: Lyla is assisting Miguel by measuring him for a new spider suit, but a small mishap occurs in the process that leads the AI to instead discover a playful piece of information about him that can make him laugh.

—

It’s hard enough tearing Miguel away from his work, let alone asking the man to stand still. He always has to be active with something, whether it’s skimming through files, capturing anomalies, or making sure that everything in the Spider-Society is in working order, so taking a break is not one of his strong points.

Miguel huffs as he stands in his spider suit on a short, cylindrical platform, his arms crossed. Above him, two robotic limbs hang from a steel frame like the strings of a marionette. A yellow strip of measuring tape is held in the metal fingers of the robotic hands as the contraption measures Miguel from shoulder to shoulder.

Miguel taps his foot on the ground and exhales an impatient sigh. “Lyla, how much longer is this going to take?” he turns to the AI in question, who’s floating beside his head.

“Just a few more measurements and you’ll be good to go,” Lyla taps away on a digital screen in front of her. Matching her own hand movements in sync, a robotic hand taps at the air alongside her while Lyla makes her note. “What’s the rush anyway? You don’t have any meetings scheduled for later.”

“I just want to get back to business, that’s all.”

“Business?” Lyla hovers backwards, almost offended. “I’m measuring you for a new suit to enhance your abilities so you can catch anomalies with more ease,” she demonstrates by controlling the robotic limbs to take Miguel’s arm away from its crossed state, then measuring it from shoulder to wrist, “It doesn’t get more business-y than that.”

“You know what I mean, Lyla,” Miguel shakes his head. “Work, reports, surveillance, making sure the anomalies are properly contained—instead of standing still like this. That kind of business.”

Lyla pulls the measuring tape and the mechanical arms away to type another note. “Yeah, I get it. But doesn’t it feel nice to take a break every once and a while? It definitely gets you away from those screens you always slouch over.” She throws a teasing grin at him and tries to straighten out his back with the robotic hands, like she’s posing an action figure. “I mean, just look at what it’s doing to your posture!”

“My posture is fine,” Miguel grumbles. He shifts his shoulders. “I only feel like every single second that I’m away from my hands-on work, another multiverse is potentially being swallowed whole.”

“Ugg, you’re being dramatic again. And also mathematically incorrect. On average we have three anomalies each day, meaning that every twenty-eight thousand eight hundred seconds another multiverse is in danger, not every single second.” She smirks down at him, pleased with her correction.

Miguel rolls his eyes. “Can we just get back to the task at hand, please?” He starts to fidget in his spot, like stretching out his arms to keep himself occupied, yet he’s moving around too much for Lyla to continue measuring him. The AI temporarily hangs the strip of measuring tape on the metal frame above them.

“I’m just saying that you can benefit from loosening up for a bit,” Lyla’s ramblings begin to wander as she tries to position Miguel with the mechanical arms to stand still on the platform, but she’s not paying complete attention to where the robot hands are drifting, “You know, like taking a moment to de-stress. It wouldn’t hurt to try—”

Lyla is suddenly cut off by an uncharacteristic yelp emanating from Miguel. Miguel snatches the robotic wrists away from his sides and fires a glare at Lyla, “Watch where you’re putting these things!”

Processing the aftermath of the yelp, the AI quickly deduces that while she wasn’t paying attention, she must have accidentally squeezed his sides.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” Lyla regains control of the robotic limbs. She properly guides them back towards his torso, but Miguel flinches away, as if on reflex. Lyla tilts her head in curiosity. She shrugs it off and maneuvers the arms close to his sides to hold him straight, but again, Miguel jumps away without her touching him, as if he was suddenly anxious of the mechanical hands.

She tries once more, but every time the robotic hands get close, he recoils and restarts her progress. Lyla narrows her eyes at him and pouts. “Miguel, hold still,” she tries to catch him without him flinching away, almost like corralling a startled horse into a stable. She attempts to grab at his arm, “I can’t get accurate measurements if you keep—”

“Hey!” Miguel tenses up with a squeak when she mistakenly pinches at his ribs.

Lyla pulls the robot hands away, smiling with intrigue at the sound Miguel just made. “What was that?” she giggles.

Miguel tightens his arms closer to his chest, almost like he wanted to sink into himself. Miguel clears his throat. He adverts his eyes from Lyla's gaze. “It was—”

“Nothing?” she cuts him off with a sly smile, “I thought you would say that. Analyzing what just occurred now.”

“Lyla wait, don’t-

The pixels of Lyla’s heart-shaped glasses flash twice. “Analyzing complete. I detected a hint of laughter in your voice. And came to the conclusion that…” Lyla pauses as her data is pieced together. “No…” her mouth widens along with her eyes. “No way!” her voice heightens with excitement. “You’re—!”

Miguel barks, “Don’t say it!”

“You’re ticklish!”

Miguel face palms with a growling sigh, flinching just hearing that word. “You said it…”

Lyla giggles excitedly, almost squealing like a fangirl. “How am I just learning about this now?! I need to know all the juicy details! Like, where are you the most ticklish?” She teasingly moves the robot arm with wiggling fingers towards his stomach. Miguel quickly grabs the wrist of the contraption before it can make contact.

“L-Lyla! This is not the time for these unnecessary activities!” he shoves the metal limb away from him.

“Nah, I think this is a perfect time! What you need is a good laugh!” She commands a robot limb to grab Miguel’s left wrist above his head, like she was innocently going to measure his arm for his new suit. “So, are you ticklish here?” Lyla quickly says and flutters her fingers to control the robot’s fingers to do the same into his underarm. Miguel sucks in a gasp and swiftly yanks his arm down, bringing it close to his body and clinging tightly to his own wrist.

“Hey!” Miguel snarls towards the AI, but Lyla had already zoomed behind him and switched to his other shoulder.

“Or here?” Lyla wiggles the chilled robotic fingers into the side of his neck. Miguel instantly scrunches up his shoulders and growls to hold back any further reaction to the tingly scratches. Trying to fight back, he attempts to nab the robot hand out of the air, but Lyla promptly dodges herself and the hands out of the way and behind him.

“Or how about here!” Lyla slips both robot hands into Miguel’s underarms from behind, striking like a snake. Miguel yelps and arches his back from the surprise, immediately clamping both of his arms to his sides and snarling to cover up any giggles that need to be stifled.

“L-Lyla!” Miguel barely chokes back an audible giggle from slipping through while trying to squirm from her grasp. His mouth twitches on and off with a smile that shows off his fangs and his frame begins to lurch forward, like he wants to curl up into a ball, the longer he holds his laughter.

“Come on!” Lyla exclaims from behind, “Stop hiding your laughter! Let me hear it!”

Miguel has to hold strong. Who knows what data-collecting Lyla can do with one of his giggly reactions if she gets her hands on it. She of course wouldn’t do anything that could hurt him, but the flustering earful of teases that he’ll hear afterwards is enough to keep himself from giving in to the easy route. Miguel faces this like a challenge.

He growls through his fangs like a big cat fending off a stronger force. “Absolutely n-not! Aye!” he squeaks when Lyla moves the mechanical hands down to both of his sides, clawing into the vulnerable area. Miguel throws his arms around himself in defense, his smile turning more wobbly by the second as he tries to hold back the giddy bouncing of giggles jumping on pogo sticks in his belly.

“Ah ha! Getting closer! I just have to get past your stubbornness!” Lyla smiles and moves one of the robot hands towards his ribs, teasingly scratching at a spot between the curved bones through the material of his suit. Miguel jolts and snickers start to spill out through hisses bypassing his fangs. He squeezes one arm to his side while the other tries to pry the robotic wrist away from wiggling into his ribs. She’s getting closer to breaking through the dam of his laughter and she knows it.

“Knock it ohohoff!” a giggle slips through Miguel’s defenses. He’s doomed. Lyla grins. Now is the moment she’s been waiting for.

Lyla’s glasses flash when she sees the opening she was planning in her sight. The other robotic hand by Miguel’s side whirs with Lyla’s control, then strikes directly at his tummy, swiping its clawed fingers back and forth like a sponge. “Gotcha now, Miguel!”

“GAH! Lylahahahaha!” Miguel finally bursts into robust laughter. He stumbles backwards, nearly falling, but Lyla places the palm of the second robot hand on the center of his back to stabilize him. However, although he’s still standing, his wriggling torso is caught in between the clawed hand vibrating at his tummy and the one stabilizing him. He throws his giggling head forward with a huge, fanged smile on his face, then grabs at the robotic wrist in an attempt to tug away the mischievous machine hand at his stomach. “Dahahamn it!” Miguel shouts through his laughter, knowing that Lyla has come out victorious. One of the strongest spider-men has been defeated by his own AI with a little bit of tickling.

“There’s that laugh I was looking for!” Lyla smiles along with Miguel. “Why did you have to go and hide it? Now I have to make up for all the laughter I missed!” Seeing another advantage to tease him, Lyla scoops up both of Miguel’s wrists in one robotic hand and pulls his arms out in front of him.

“I’ll take those, thank you,” she beams above him. She then uses the unoccupied robotic hand to reach the ticklish places she tried before, now that the gates that were holding back his laughter have erupted.

Miguel squeals and jolts with laughter as the free mechanical hand scritches and scribbles at the rest of his torso. Lyla swiftly switches from spot to spot, like a scratch to his ribs, a squeeze to his sides, a scribble or two to his belly and underarms. She pokes around his whole torso, sending Miguel into a squirming, giggling frenzy.

“Lylahahahaha!!! Quihihihit it!” Miguel attempts to tug back his arms as his joyful laughter fills the room. He releases a snort, then buries his face in his shoulder, trying to hold on to any dignity he has left.

“No wonder you couldn’t hold still! You’re just that ticklish!” Lyla giggles at Miguel’s reaction. “Ironically though, I’m still able to get some measurements from you. Of where you’re the most ticklish, that is, which I determine to be your belly! Your laughter is zero point five decibels higher in that spot than the rest of your tickle spots! Watch!” Lyla then takes the opportunity to return to scribbling at his stomach, causing Miguel to squeak and increase the volume of his laughter, just as expected.

“LYLA!” Miguel calls out her name again in an attempt to scold her, even though his voice is currently laced with silly sounding laughter, “Thahahahat’s enohohohough!!!”

“Aww, so soon? But alright, I gotcha,” Lyla smiles and releases his wrists. Miguel instantly wraps his arms around himself, panting as he catches his breath from the tickle attack.

Lyla floats over to his shoulder. “See? Now wasn’t that fun?”

Miguel huffs out a growl. He glares at Lyla out of the corner of his eye. “That was NOT fun!”

“Say what you want Miguel,” Lyla shrugs with a lingering, all-knowing smile on her face, “but I can read that your body language is much more relaxed than it was before.”

Miguel opens his mouth to counter her, but he stops himself. He looks away from her with a defeated scowl. A small blush heats in his cheeks. He, unfortunately, can’t argue with her data about him feeling more relaxed.

Lyla hovers back to his other side to grab the measuring tape that she had previously hung on the contraption's metal frame. “Now, let’s get back to business. I still need to finish measuring you for real.”

Miguel flinches away from her, reflexively bringing his arms close to his body for split second defense. “There’s more?!” he frantically questions.

The AI chuckles at his flustered reaction. “Hehe, relax Miguel. I promise I won't tickle you on purpose,” she holds out a reassuring, open palm. “But you better hold still this time,” she ends her sentence with a lighthearted smirk.

Needless to say, Miguel fully understands that he should listen to her advice, but at least the short break in the middle of their work wasn’t a total waste of time.

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #atsv lyla #lyla spiderverse #sfw fanfiction #sfw fanfic #sfw tickle fic #tickle fic

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