#so it’s spider brooklyn

[bunnyramen]

Pavitr: You’re saying Tea-Tea!

Gwen, snorting: You said T-T.

Hobie, half smiling: Titties.

Pavitr: Shut up! I did not say-

Miles: Totally did!

[whaliiwatching]

finally my obsession with zoot suits becomes useful

[claie171art]

The Spot: fashion edition

Dressed him up a bit because poor guy’s life would probably be improved in some ways if he just dressed decently, or at least wore pants

Pinterest references:

[nashvillethotchicken]

Yall ever think about the fact that miles spider sense didn't go off while he was in the wrong universe because seeing his uncle made him so comfortable he didn't recognize any danger?

[multifandomforthemostpart]

proof for those of y’all coming from ao3

[arachnicas]

I would love a plot where RIPeter was actually secretly alive. He was on death's door after what Kingpin did to him, and the trauma his body endured caused his regeneration abilities to slowly take their time piecing him back together and leaving him with a permanent limp. He wakes up in his coffin, crawls to a new world, and realizes everyone thinks he's dead.

Mary Jane has long since moved on, Aunt May left Brooklyn, and Miles, who successfully stopped the collider from destroying the city, is now the new Spider-Man. Peter may have lost everything, but he's damned proud of the kid, and Miles is ecstatic to see that his Peter is alive. Peter decides to stick around as Miles' mentor permanently and picks up where Peter B. left off. During those sixteen months before the events of ATSV, Miles feels less lonely with Peter by his side. Sure, he misses Gwen, Peter. B, Noir, Peni, and Ham, but at least he has his Peter to watch his back and teach him.

[milimeters-morales]

god it’s literally so adorable and heartwarming to me to imagine Matt offering up his arm to Miles who needs blood for some reason or another . Like he’s losing himself so latches onto Matt’s arm (so i guess it’s not offering oops lol) and Matt tries to shove him off but he sees how calm Miles is and it’s not even like Miles is taking THAT much blood. Besides, the kid must be hungry or something, and he doesn’t actually want to hurt Matt, it’s better than him drinking from anyone else anyway. Matt calms down and that might be from the bloodloss but he just lets Miles drink and drink until he starts to doze off, because then he’s relaxed and Matt can safely remove his arm and maaaybe seek some sort of medical help. probably not. okay so he wasn’t offering his arm at all and actually just lost a ton of blood and convinced himself it was okay. are you mad at me

[rockfact]

youtube knows im full of autism and its showing me clips from miles's game and im normal (i cant play it till i finish everything in the first one cuz i have to delete it for space)

[attila-werther]

@pointesdulac it's a. very abstract, minimal dialogue kind of thing. it's like, the anatomy of a city? or the city as a body dying, and parts of it follow peter snapping pictures for the paper and catching frank in the peripheries of the frames, and begins to chase him through it while also trying to chase down the answer to a question crawling under your skin.

how do you do what you feel an ethical/moral obligation to do when you live in a city that wants you to keep your head down, how do you push through any of it. take a picture. how do you love a city that's dying. take a picture. how do you get out of bed in the morning. take a picture, pay your bills, they cut funding on public transport again, walk home, see how everyone is struggling, why are you still taking pictures (you have to pay your bills so take a picture, write an article, send another email asking for your editor to pay your invoice, please) it's never going to stop.

and it all kind of snaps into place like someone poured gasoline down his throat and lit a match when frank grabs him by the back of his jacket and pulls him upright and tells him to get the hell out of the immediate scene they're in, and peter decides to stay and join the fight.

it's also something like, frank pretending that peter is just Some Guy up until that moment because boy is peter going through it internally, and also 200% about creating a situation that leads to peter wearing frank's jacket

[thstarsofsilver]

i think about this interaction daily. my favourite ny boys <3

CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR 2016 | dir. Joe Russo, Anthony Russo

[leth-writes]

TASM! Peter Parker x reader

He’s never kissed anyone before. Before the spider bite, he was bullied quite badly, so unfortunately, he never had the opportunity to really date and explore.

Show him how. He’s a really excitable learner. His lips are always soft and plump, just slightly on the chapped side, and he normally goes in for chaste pecks. Don’t be afraid to gently lay a hand on the back of his neck and guide him.

Loves holding hands. You two are basically never separated, hands always intertwined. He has a habit of swinging your joined hands back and forth

Absolutely lives for putting an arm around your waist, softly guiding you through a crowd in downtown New York.

Loves cuddling. He gives really warm, gentle hugs. You feel really safe in his arms, because he tends to squeeze slightly; the pressure is just right, like a light weighted blanket

When you two share a bed, he always intertwines his legs with yours. He can really seek out heat, he has trouble thermoregulating due to the spider bite, so please let him move in close. Throw your leg over his hips and he’ll melt. His preferred cuddle position is front to front, legs intertwined and your leg thrown over his hips, his arm draped over your side. It’s all-encompassing and it feels like the whole world goes quiet, time feeling syrupy slow as you two just breathe in each others’ company

Documents your whole relationship with his camera. The photos are strewn in a photo wall over the bed in his apartment. When you aren’t there, he stares at them to fall asleep.

Loves walking you home, even if it’s out of his way. Will pull you to a stop in the doorway, leaning in for a chaste peck and a few murmured words of affection.

Calls you sweetheart a lot, definitely his favorite pet name

Tells you about spiderman, especially if you express that you find the swinging superhero cool. Wants to take you swinging.

Grand displays of affection through his webs, writing his words of love over the brooklyn bridge. It hits the light just right as the sun rises, you two watch from a rooftop a little while away.

You’re never late. He swings you wherever you need to go.

Please express interest in his work, especially as an assistant to Doctor Octavius (before he became Doc Ock). If he knows you find it hot when he talks shop, he’ll make sure to pull out all the technical terms he knows.

He lives to impress you.

[hemlock-dreams]

Hypothetically, if you were going to write hunting!spider as a fic, how would you do it? Like, where would the story start—with Peter as the bartender, or his backstory? Would you flash back to his old universe?

-🕊️

Like this:

Peter hasn’t worn the suit since here got here. He hasn’t done much in the last two months of his new existence beyond haunting New York like a phantom, trying to figure out who he is and where he stands in a reality that hasn’t been unfortunate enough to have a Peter Parker in the first place.

Or a Spiderman.

Strange hadn’t been kidding about the magic. Peter feels like the victim of his own hubris, asking for a clean start, a world where no one knew him. He’d asked and he’d been delivered.

Almost. 

The world is there, technically, but it’s like looking at a painting he’s seen a thousand times, only to realize the details are off. It’s the phones with the home button on the bottom, the different slang, the green money, all his favorite songs with wildly different lyrics, so many painful differences- a slow death by a thousand cuts.

Peter thought it would be easier, like a new beginning stretching out ahead of him, the sea-breeze smell of a fresh start after stepping out of Ryker’s. 

But Uncle Ben isn’t waiting for him at the docks this time. Nothing is waiting except the uncanny arms of a city that used to know him. Like running into an ex after years apart, recognizing the same general shape, but being strangers all the same.

Damn it. He should have asked Strange to take his memories too.

At least then Peter would know what to do with himself instead of haunting Brooklyn at night like a ghost, fighting the cognitive dissonance of taking turns he used to know like the back of his hand, only to be startled when they lead into dead-ends or open out into streets that shouldn’t exist.

That’s why he hasn’t worn the suit. Because forget being Spiderman, who the hell is Peter, here?

His melancholy is interrupted by a woman’s voice, faint if not for Peter’s enhanced senses.

“Listen, you’re a sweet guy, but I don’t like mixing work and my personal life.” The voice is extra sweet in the way women get when trying to talk themselves out of a dangerous situation.

No matter the lifetime, Peter can’t ignore that.

So he changes course, beelining towards the source with silence that’s more instinct than experience. He sticks to the shadows, easily avoiding the few flickering streetlights between him and the alleyway. His night vision pierces the darkness, tracing down the detailed shape of the tall, lanky man cornering a woman in the middle of the alley. 

He’s leaning, off-balance, clearly drunk, and boxing her in with one leather-clad arm, “Come on, Scarlett. I been asking for your number for weeks. Just one date, give a guy a chance, huh?”

Well, it was comforting to know that no matter the timeline, scum remained scum. 

“Paul, you’re wasted.” The woman- Scarlett, is draped against the wall, seemingly at ease and deceptively loose-limbed, even as she fists a set of keys between her knuckles, “Why don’t we have this discussion somewhere a little nicer? There’s a cute cafe that’s open tomorrow-”

“Fuck that. It’s always one excuse after another with you,” The guy- Paul- snarls, swaying from one foot to the other. The frustration is a ticking bomb,  “Why are you bein’ such a fucking bitch?”

Like clockwork, the slurs come out, and a peaceful resolution is no longer an option.

Scarlett realizes it too, because the hum of anxiety lacing her syrupy-sweet tone finally bleeds into her body. Her muscles lock, visibly entering fight or flight. 

That’s Peter’s cue.

“Is there a problem?” Peter’s voice is like a knife in the dark, popping the bubble and making the two flinch.

“Who the fuck are you?” Paul sneers, face slack and ugly from drink. “The fuck you think you’re doing, butting in?”

Peter ignores him, glancing towards Scarlett, who flicks her eyes between them and the rest of the alleyway. Unfortunately, there’s only one entrance and he’s blocking it. Out of options, Scarlett plasters herself to the wall.

“This is between the lady and me.” Paul is still talking, stumbling towards Peter, “But I’m a nice guy, so I’m going to give you a chance to turn ‘round and walk away.”

“Generous, but I’ll have to decline.” Peter murmurs and crosses the distance, invading his space before the man can respond. The promise of violence always lights something in Peter’s stomach, but for all the man’s shit-talking, the fight, if it can even be called that, is pathetic. Paul is so drunk Peter can taste it in the air, and his spidersense doesn’t even bother kicking in as he dodges one wobbly punch after the other. 

He doesn’t bother dragging it out. It only takes one good fist to the gut to drop Paul to the ground, followed by one good kick to the chest to keep him there. The aftermath is anticlimactic, awkward silence punctuated only by the rattling wheeze of the unconscious man beneath him.

Even pulling his punches, Peter probably cracked his ribs. It would take more effort than he’s got to feel sorry, especially since Scarlett is still glued to the wall, eyes trained on him and practically vibrating with adrenaline.

Slowly, Peter creates some space, backing out of the alleyway so he’s not obstructing the exit. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah.” Her reply is curt and wary, but Peter isn’t offended. He knows what he looks like, looming in the dark with his ratty clothes and unkempt beard. Best thing he can do to convince her of her safety is to walk away. 

So he does just that, and he’s almost halfway down the block when he hears her behind him, clacking heels loudly in the chill night air, “Wait!”

Peter pauses, turning around. 

Scarlett stops a few meters away, clutching the strap of her gym bag over her chest. “Sorry. That was rude of me. Thank you.”

Under the streetlights, her face is striking. Her bright green eyes are smoky and sensual, with bold cheekbones and dark lips framed by wisps of red hair falling out of a messy bun. She’s exactly the type of woman Peter would fantasize about back in Rykers, the kind he would see on pinups in Marko’s cell- tall and feminine, with lean legs and a waist Peter could span with both hands. 

The resolute look on her face reminds him so much of M-

He shunts that thought as soon as it appears.

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter responds with a shrug. He’s not stupid enough to lecture a grown woman about walking the streets at night. “Was there something else?”

Scarlett chews on her lip, eyes flicking back to the alley before settling on Peter for a few long beats. Whatever she sees in him makes her sigh, and some of the tension leeches from her shoulders. “Feel like walking a girl to her job?” 

Peter is a little surprised, and he takes a second to consider, mostly so he doesn’t look threatening, then nods, “Where to?” 

“Maggies.” At his confused look, she raises a brow, “Saint Margaret’s?” 

Still not ringing a bell, “Is that a…church?” He doesn’t remember any Saint Margaret’s in his Brooklyn, and it just reinforces that fish-out-of-water feeling that’s been choking him for the past few months.

“A church, sure.” Scarlett snorts derisively, laughing under her breath. When Peter doesn’t join in, she shoots him a wide-eyed look, “Oh. You’re serious. It’s an dance bar”  

Walking at night makes more sense now. That, and the obvious stage name. “I don’t know where that is. I’m…kind of new in town.”

“I can see that,” She says, and the gold of her hoop earrings catches the light as she falls in step beside him. Peter keeps his strides short and even, staying in her line of vision as they walk. It doesn’t escape his notice that she’s still got her keys between her knuckles, though they’re no longer clutched in a tight fist, “What brought you to New York, Mr. Good Samaritan?”

“Peter.” He says. “I was looking for a fresh start and kind of washed up here,” Peter feels like he’s being called out on some lie, as if anyone glancing in his direction will peg that he doesn’t belong.

But Scarlet is just nodding, unawares, “Nice to meet you, Peter. And I get it. That's why I moved here, too. It might take a bit of time to get your bearings, but it's worth it when you do." They’re heading down the street, taking a turn on 81st that should have led into a main thoroughfare but doesn’t, instead turning into another little set of streets full of gated-off shops covered in graffiti. Even the gang signs don’t look the same. He tries not to think about it.

“I appreciate what you did,” Scarlett is saying, “Paul’s been a pushy bastard but I thought it was all drunk bravado, you know? I never believed he’d actually follow me. I’m glad you were there, but I’m sorry it had to end in violence.”

Resorting to violence is one of Peter’s favorite pastimes, but he’s absolutely not going to admit that out loud. Instead, he hums, tucking his hands into his stained hoodie, “Some people only listen when it's fists talking. Hopefully the lesson sticks.” Peter frowns, “You said he followed you, does that mean he knows where you live?”

Men like that tend to hold grudges. Especially if they've been had their head knocked around in an alleyway.

“Thank god, no.” She shudders next to him, gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter at the thought, “He caught me coming from my day job. I’ll have to tell Weasel to put him on the blacklist for the club though…and change my shift. Ugh.” 

Peter nods in sympathy. Shiting schedules between two jobs is going to be a nightmare. “Weasel?” 

“The owner of Maggie’s.” She clarifies.

“Your boss is named Weasel?” Yikes. Peter can’t imagine what kind of shit someone had to do to earn that nickname.

“Yeah.” She laughs, “But don’t let the name fool you, he’s weird but he’s decent. There are lots of other clubs in the area but Weas lets us have a bigger cut than most other places. Plus, we get to set our own rules.” 

They cut the street, avoiding some dark patches where the streetlights gave out.

“That’s good.” Peter agrees, “Otherwise this is a pretty sketchy walk for a small paycheck.”  

It really is a sketchy walk, and his spidersense pings at odd moments, though nothing comes out of it save the odd junkie that wanders out of the shadows.

“I’ve had worse,” Scarlett shrugs, finally tucking her keys back into her purse. The stiff line of her shoulders has completely melted away now that they’re in what Peter assumes is familiar territory. “This is nothing compared to my last job.” 

“Which was?” 

“Telemarketing.”

Peter would rather take his chances soloing Thanos. “Point taken.” 

“We’re almost there. Just down the road.” Scarlett points one long acrylic nail toward a looming brick building punctuating the street. Peter wouldn’t have given it a second thought if not for the single garish neon sign of a scantily dressed nun at the corner, directing his attention towards a nondescript door.

“Welcome to Saint Margaret’s School for Wayward Children,” Scarlett enunciates each word with an eyebrow waggle, grinning when Peter cracks a smile. “Finest entertainment this side of Brooklyn. Thanks for walking me.” 

Peter doesn’t doubt it, especially if Scarlett is where they set the bar for dancers. “No worries. Stay safe, yeah?” Then he turns, intending to keep walking until his head is empty.

Scarlett pauses with her hand on the door, “You’re not going to come in?” 

“Not really my scene.” A true statement, one that doesn’t have to acknowledge that Peter is capital-b Broke. Hard to get a proper-paying job when he doesn’t legally exist. He’s done a few gigs under the table, but the last few weeks have left Peter sleeping on empty rooftops with an emptier stomach. 

“Really? I was hoping I could treat you to a drink. It’s the least I can do.” Scarlett sounds disappointed.

“You don’t owe me anything.” 

She puts a hand on her hip, “Fine. Let’s consider it a celebratory drink then.”

“For?”

“Ugh,” Scarlett rolls her eyes. There’s no way she doesn’t know how charming that is. “For getting rid of Paul. Making new friends- whatever you want.”

Peter huffs a small laugh, “Friends? We just met.” 

It’s not an outright refusal, because Peter is weak for the first real taste of human contact he’s had in months, and Scarlett smirks like she scents blood, “What can I say? I got a good feeling about you.”

Peter snorts. Now that’s a first. 

“C’mon, Tiger. One drink. What have you got to lose?”

Peter exhales a long, slow breath, “Nothing.”

[marvisions]

Oh hell yeah here we go

What fictional character are you completely convinced is a lesbian and nothing anyone can say will change your mind on that and why?

I want to know because I feel like lesbian head-canons are always pushed aside in fandom.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Random ITSV facts that only I care about probably

Some fun ITSV facts from your local half-hispanic half-black Brooklynite Spider-man fan (me not Miles). ANYWAY

Miles has the number 11215 on his bookbag. That's his zip code.

This means officially, Miles lives in Park Slope. On the edge of Williamsburg.

The movie is spot on with the architecture.

We get a shot of Miles house in ITSV that basically confirms he lives in Park Slope. Not only is the 'real' Visions Academy near Park Slope (the actual school is called Midtown High. His school is a blend of two specialized tech schools in NYC - Midtown and Brooklyn Tech, both of which are near Park Slope).

Miles is 'Slapping'.

Writing your graffiti tag on stickers and putting them around the city is a genuine form of graffiti in NYC called slapping.

It's done on 'eggshell' stickers which are basically impossible to get off, and the goal is to put as is stickers around with your name in the hardest to reach places. If you walk around Manhattan and look closely, you can start seeing sticker tags like this.

One of the most common ones I see is Peru Ana Ana Peru

Here's some of mine though 😌😉

Wythe Avenue is a real Avenue.

I spoke about this in the past but it's just another instance of ITSV and ATSV being SO accurate to Brooklyn that they even get the street names, locations, and stores correct.

The store that Spot robs is a REAL BODEGA.

Anyway these were just things I caught after rewatching the ITSV trailer and I thought they were cool 🥺 BYE

[justyanle]

Spider Boy, King of Thieves

(Miles Morales x F!Reader)

Your footsteps were leading you into Miles' room, hopefully asking for his help on your AP Physics homework, though you opened the door to... him on the ceiling?

CW: mild swearing, nothing much, fluff

"Oh. My. God."

There you stood, mouth agape, eyes as big and round as the moon, and papers that have momentarily fallen on the floor.

Miles Morales, on the ceiling. Your long time best friend or you could say, crush, in a black skin tight suit. He was flimsy, almost a panicked look on his face alongside awkwardness. An almost silent "Hey.." was all he could murmur out.

Rushing to his desk, a random pair of scissors scattered was now in your hand. A rigid body and shaking, your heart was almost about to pop out of your chest.

Raising his hands in the air, he dropped from the ceiling and swiftly landed on the thin wooden floor of the bordering school.

"[Y/N]! It's me! Dumbass!"

"No you're not!"

"Yes I am!"

"My Miles wouldn't be crawling on the ceiling.. who are you? Wait, no, no, what are you?"

He sighs, now quickly grabbing the scissors from your shaking hand, and slamming it down on his desk. "[Y/N] [L/N], is who you are, of course you are, I'm Miles, your best friend!"

A humourous silence was clouding the air, "Oh."

"Yeah, I was going to tell you sooner. I just- I don't know, got nervous." He admits, now discarding black hoodie he occasionally wears on his nightly patrols due to the cold wind enveloping his body.

"Wait, so, how did all this happen? You're telling me you've been the spider guy around Brooklyn? Just swinging around?"

He sighs and plops down onto his bed, you following and taking a small seat.

"Yeah, I'm that g-"

"What! Miles, do you even understand how dangerous that is?" You cut him off, a yell, close to a shriek, comes out of your mouth, once again in shock.

"No, no! I mean, yes, I do," he sat up quickly to face you "but I know what I'm doing." he finished.

Looking at him unassured, you sighed. "So how did you start sticking onto the walls?" A beckoning question asked.

"I got bit by a spider. Sooner or later, I met this girl, Gwen. My hand suddenly got stuck in her hair and," he trails off "I think you know the rest. Suddenly, everything I just came around to, just started sticking to me? Me sticking to them? But yeah, I inherited the powers of a spider from that bite." He explained, rambling about his amazing experiences as Spiderman as he swung throughout the city. Turning to face you, "Wha-"

There you were, completely awestruck, mouth wide agape and eyes replicating the size of a planet.

"No way, man."

He releases a giggle, as soft and light as a feather. Going back to his discarded suit, "Hey, what are y-" your sentence was quickly interrupted with Miles grabbing a hold of your hand, his large and calloused ones intertwining with yours.

"Miles?" you questioned, confused his antics as he was quickly putting on his Jordans.

And without a warning, Morales had his tough hands snaking around your torso, having a gentle yet assuring grip. His hand flying to yours, intertwining his big hands with your soft digits.

"Do you trust me?"

Holding his hand tight, "Fine, Miles."

In less than a second, the breeze was swiftly blowing through your hair, your body tingling at the cold sting of the air as your view was focused at the window Miles had just led you two out of.

"Ahh! Miles! What are you doing?!" A frantic shriek leaving your lips, holding on tight onto your beloved best friend.

A wholehearted laugh, "Well, showing my favourite girl my favourite activities as Spiderman." a smile evident in his tone.

"Your wh- Huh?!"

Wrapping your legs around his waist, he swung fast and steady. Looking at dozens of buildings to find a spot to land. (He may be sneaking glances at your oh so pretty face once and a while as he swung by structure to structure.)

The once ignited light of your panic was dying down, now having the courage to get a view of Brooklyn up above, the bright city lights and the loud bustling of vehicles despite the sharp night and it's cold air.

Miles settled down on a rooftop, a particularly high building to look over the wave of the other ones scattered on the ground, people of all diversity as tiny as ants in your view, the gush of wind softly fainting through your hair.

"Woah.."

His eyes were fixated on your awed face, the city lights illuminating your features.

"Yeah, woah."

He couldn't agree less, hell, he really couldn't.

"Miles, this is amazing." you smiled, a large grin displayed on your lips and eyes glistening due to the focus kept on the night of Brooklyn.

"Heh, I know right? Ever since I got the hang of this Spider stuff I've practically been all throughout this city, I know every crook and cranny of this place." he nodded, landing beside you, gazing at whatever it is you're looking at.

"So, you gotta tell me everything that happened since you became our city's great Spiderman." a teasing smile seen on your face, now turning to look at him.. already looking, no, admiring

you.

"Ah- uhm, I-, y-you know.. Spider, stuff." he practically heats up, his body language rigid and unstable, his breath was raggedy and his cheeks were as hot as a kettle.

"Cute." you mumbled.

"What?" as if he didn't hear it crystal clear, thanks to his heightened senses due to his bite.

"Nothing, nothing, go on." you ushered.

"Was it really nothing, [Y/N]?" he thought.

"Well, everything has changed ever since I became Spiderman. I had great difficulty at first, y'know? It was just.. overwhelming. Though it was hard, I got some blessings, makin' me like superhuman and stuff." he rambled, watching the strobes of the city lights that shined bright in the dark.

"Wow, Miles.." there was a comfortable thick line of silence, the sound of the lively city was evident and loud, the series of vehicles honking and racing down the road, the distinct chatter of people passing, and the cold air nipping at your bare arms.

"Does being a superhuman make you immune to the cold too?" you joke, rubbing your hands together quickly to produce a source of heat somehow, covering your biceps as a way to cover yourself from the unwavering cold.

Miles looked over to your freezing figure, and without even a second thought, he unzipped the jacket wrapping his body and covered yours, the clothing material seemingly turned oversized as you hugged it closer to your body.

The fire quickly spread to your cheeks, resisting a toothy smile to leak onto your face. "I guess so, my senses are heightened after all, [Y/N]." he lets out a cheeky grin, snaking his arms around your waist, his chin landing onto your shoulder, his broad chest felt on your back and his body heat radiating.

"Damn, Miles. Damn." you laugh, grabbing ahold of his hand and giving it a kiss, "You're so slick, Miles, Jesus." you laugh, feeling him dig his head into your neck.

"Well, it's my duty to protect people, right? Especially my favourite girl." he flirts, a warmth swimming around in your body as butterflies were a colony in your stomach.

"Listen, Miles.. you have to stop flirting with me if at the end of the day, I'm still going to be named your 'best friend' to you. Everything I feel is.. not just for a friend anymore."

He felt like there was an invisible clock ticking, the silence becoming unbearable and it was getting harder to breathe.

"Am I dreaming?" he thinks.

"The sun's about to rise, I don't think there would be another night to call you my best friend if you could be called mine by the morning."

Holy shit.

You turn to face him finally, "Miles.."

No other words were exchanged, only left with the loud wind chasing it's high, as if the rest of the world was stopping and the only people left were you.

His hand was cupping your cheek, the tension in the air could be sliced with a knife, the only thing evident in the surrounding was an awestruck you, and an awestruck Miles.

In less than a minute, his lips sparked against yours, the colony of butterflies in your stomach now soaring as his hand rested on your hip, pulling you closer to his body and kissing you deeper, a passionate and loving exchange.

For what it felt like a decade, you two finally catch your breath. "I was wishing to do that the moment you asked me for a pencil during class." he says, the memory burned into the back of his head.

"Hell, I only asked for that pencil 'cause you caught my eye."

He giggled, cupping your face and planting a soft, delicate kiss on your forehead and snuggling his head into the crook of your neck, giving small kisses and bites.

"Well it wouldn't hurt to swing by a burger shop right now as our first date, right?"

"It's funny how you're saying swing by like that's a normal thing, Miles."

a/n: NO WAY IM WRITING AGAIN???? WHAT A SHOCK ⁉️⁉️ 😱😱😱 NO BUT LIKE ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE IVE WRITTEN ANYTHING PROPERLY AND ITS A NEW FANDOM AHHHH SPIDERVERSE ES SO GOOD, ive been drawing a lot more lately than writing and i was really busy with school!! :( all i could so was read and actually not write

[m0chisenpai]

Far From Home

Spiderman Across the Spiderverse

Obsessive!Prowler!Miles Morales x Spidergirl!Reader

Warning(s): slight violence, nothing too crazy

The adrenaline pumped through your veins sending a dull thump in your ears. As you and Miles traveled through the multiverse, your hands intertwined, somewhere along the line, a rift shook the two of you apart.

And once separated you screamed for Miles to him, arms reaching no helplessly as he was dumped into god knows where!

“Bug! Bug! Miles!” you yelped being thrown into the room. Miles’ room. But he wasn’t here! He must have been sent to the wrong dimension!

Your panting breaths filled the silent room as you looked around. What could you do? Your hands trembled as you tapped the watch, whispering your thanks to Hobie as you located where you were exactly.

“Earth…42…” your eyes widened. Miles was home….but where were you. Your arms settled as you took in the state of this room.

From the cracked door you could hear the front door open and see the flicker of light. Ms.Morales’ voice mumbled spanish into the empty apartment and her footsteps grew close to the door.

Quickly you latched onto the ceiling, pressing yourself as close as possible. Thankfully she neglected to cut the lights on as she entered the room, a laundry basket settled on her hip, still dressed in her work clothes.

“Ay, this boy…” she huffed, shaking her head grabbing the unclean clothes scattered across the floor and dumping them into the basket.

With every turn she made around the room you did your best to remain behind. She continued to move oblivious to your presence ce too she stopped for a moment. Your breath stopped thinking you let out a creak or dropped something to raise suspicion.

But instead she reaches for a picture on his mess of a desk. In the dark you watched a tear fall down as she gazes at this photo.

“Ahh, I wish you were here sometimes…he’s closed off since you’ve gone,” she shook her head letting the picture go back into its spot and turn on her heel.

She adjusted the basket on her hip to use her free arm to rub at her eyes, once she was gone you quickly shot a web at the door, pulling the door closed as quietly as possible. 

Slowly you settled back down on the ground and walked to the desk, and with shaking hands you held a picture of…you? But it wasn’t.

You must’ve been in freshman year, that was the year your mother suggested you get braces. Cause in this picture they’re bright with your toothy smile. You wore a bright pink strawberry patterned cardigan with a cami white dress. And you were wrapped up in the arms of Miles. Two large smiles were on both of your faces.  

“Aaron! You shouldn’t have…”

“No..” you pressed your body to the door slowly cracking the door open and looked through. Your eyes widened and you could feel your heart pick up at the sight of his uncle. He was alive? But if he was alive, that meant the prowler was rampant in Brooklyn. 

You quickly ran to the window. And shook your head as you stepped out onto the fire escape. The streets were darker, more empty. And any one who was out looked like someone you would have put away in your universe.

“No…no..no!” you shot a web to the top of the building pulling yourself up to pace on the buildings ledge. “Miles, where are you! Come on, think!...”

That spider was meant for you and earth 42’s Miles. You were destined to be Spider-girl….He was a mistake. Now there’s an earth without a spiderman and a spider-girl. 

You pushed your hood back slowly, shaking your head. There was no hero here. No spider man OR spider girl. Why would the universe kill you then if you were needed?

Slowly your head turned and your eyes widened beneath the mask. Your unmasked face plastered on a brick wall, next to, “Mr.Morales….” your breathing picked up, the eye of your mask widening as well.

Your head turned like a swivel till it landed on a spray painted billboard. Your mask and colors spray painted stood out high amongst the chaos. Like a SOS to the universe. Like you��.were dead. You were killed in this universe. 

“I need to find Miles! Where ... .where would he be…The academy right?” you paced back and forth pulling your hood up to shield yourself from the rain that begins to come down. Yet just when you were about to send yourself into the night sky a voice stopped you. A familiar voice that sets off your senses.

“Mi vida?” Your eyes widened and slowly you turned. You were faced with the prowler and on instinct you crouched low. 

“What have you done! You killed him didn’t you!” Even if he wasn’t your Mr.Morlaes, even if you were still living. This Prowler was enough to make your blood boil. 

“Amor no ... .listen” you quickly throw one of your orbs down, setting off a large explosion of  thick bright pink smoke and shooting a web into his chest pulling him to you to knock him onto his knees and fight his gauntlets off of him. Only, he didn’t fight back as hard. He only deflected every punch and twist that you sent him. 

Every punch and kick filled with an unexplainable rage as you knocked him around the building.

“Where is Miles! What have you done to his father!!!” your webs secured his arms and legs as you held him to your masked eyes. 

“Amor….” you shook your head and pressed the side of his mask. And when it dissipated to reveals…him. Your bug, your,

“Miles…” 

A sharp pain shot your head and you swayed, your hands released him. Your body dropped to the side.

It was dark and quiet now, Aaron, oh…why is he looking at you like that? What’s he saying to…Miles, but he’s not your Miles.

But your eyes are heavy, and the pain is so much. Too much. So you let your eyes rest shut, succumbing to the dull thud and dining in your ear.

It’s quiet when you wake up. Your body was wrapped in something soft and warm, the pitter of rain and echoes of thunder would have lulled you back to sleep.

But when your body pixelated and glitched throwing your body out of your comfort onto the floor you were wide awake grasping at the discarded blanket as you clench your eyes till your body settles.

You coughed into the silence.Your vision cleared as you took in where you were. Aaron’s old apartment. Only it was like some comic book villain lair. With plans and papers scattered and pinned to the wall and across a table.

The punching bag dangled in front of you from the couch you were laid on. You pressed your back to the couch, closing your eyes.

‘Let’s regroup, Miles was the prowler, you're dead here along with Miles’ dad and Uncle Aaron was alive.’ You held your wrists out cursing, no web shooters and they took the watch. That’s why you're glitching.

“How’s your head?” You flinched as the shadow in the kitchen shifted to Aaron who slowly walked to you, a glass of water in his hands as he eyes your crumpled form. 

“I ain���t mean to go so hard. If I knew it was you.” he leaned forward holding the water for you. You hold it, but you keep Aaron’s gaze. He holds a hand out for you to grasp and let him pick you up to settle you back into the couch.

For a moment it felt like when you first met Miles’ uncle. How he psyched you out before smirking and questioning if you were the girl that got his nephews heads in the clouds. 

And he does, he smirks like Aaron once did. “Nothing in it. I wouldn’t do anything to my niece.”

“I’m not though” your voice is hoarse. 

“You aren’t” his smile slowly drops as he leaned back, “and at the same time you are just like her.”

 “I'm not her. She’s dead. And you…” you shook your head looking down into the water.

“He’s what? Mi vida.” He steps from the inky blackness of the shadows while his uncle disappears.

All thats left is the silence as he stares down at you, and you take in how different Miles is here. It all makes sense.

Uncle Aaron and Mr.Morales were like Miles’ yin and yang. And Miles was that shred of goodness, of hope for Uncle Aaron. But without his father the balance tipped. Kingpin was surely alive and roped in this Miles. He was the Prowler. 

“Miles…” and his eyes soften. You must have been gone a while in this universe. “ I have to…I need to get back. I’m not her. I don-”

“Back to him?” His brow raises and that cold look settles back in his eyes. You’d never seen such distaste in them before it struck a nerve. It sent ice into your veins as he stepped forward.

Your skin prickled in unease as he used the knuckle of his pointer to gentle cradle your chin and drink in your eyes.

“The one who took it all from me. He’s got it good, don’t he?” And your eyes lower. Because you can’t deny the hurt you feel for him.

This Miles should be the one keeping things safe on this earth. Should have a father. Should have a spider-girl by his side, to help, to love. But you need to explain it. How the Spot is the one to blame, not your Miles.

“Miles it isn’t his fault I promise. It was someone else. I can help you, we both can. But you have to let me go back home” you plead, trying to keep your voice steady as his gentle caresses halt. His head tilts.

A beat passes before he’s pinching your cheeks right and leaning forward just a breath away. His eyes pierce your soul and your heart begins to pound against your ribs.

The glass cup slips out your hand shattering into a million pieces just like your resolve.

And his fury is quiet, but you hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. “He stole my father, my life. He stole you from me. I don’t give a damn bout that fraud. Long as I got you back in my life, he’s safe.”

The threat lingers in the air and your heart drops to your stomach. Miles was smart. A genius. And for all you know he’d begun picking at the watch. If he could find a way to get to your Miles, he would have.

And something tells you that if he does, you wouldn’t be seeing him again. So you swallow what feels like cotton down your throat and try to stand firm.

But a tear is dripping down your cheek that he catches. He’s gentle again in cradling your cheek as his thumb catches the stream of tears.

“Things will be different. Better. I’ll be better for you mi corazon. I’ll keep you safe this time.”