#the prowler x oc

[dreadheadmadi]

- I’M GONNA CLAW THOSE PRETTY LITTLE EYES OUT: Prologue

Pairing: The Prowler (Aaron Davis) x Black Cat Variant! OC

TW: murder, blood, graphic descriptions, cursing, gore, death, strong language

A/N: Please note that all my OCs are Black; of course, this doesn't mean that if you aren't Black, you can't read it. Just please be respectful. If you enjoyed this chapter, let me know by reblogging or just dm me! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I hope you have a wonderful day or night; bye, angel!

BLACKWOOD MANOR loomed on the outskirts of New York like a gothic monolith, its sprawling grounds shrouded in mist and mystery; its imposing design was a testament to the wealth and power of its enigmatic owner, the elusive billionaire Alexander Blackwood. The grandeur of the mansion enveloped the night like a cloak of decadence, its opulence a stark contrast to the darkness that seeped through its polished corridors.

Usually, the manor would lay dormant and dark, with no sounds or persons going in or out. However, tonight was a special night, a masquerade-themed birthday, of whom it belonged to but none other than Alexander Blackwood's spouse. She was different from her loner husband - a city girl and an active member of New York's rich folk. Such a figure would earn as many friends and connections as possible - and she invited them all. Within the manor's walls, the wealthy elite danced and revealed, their laughter echoing against the marble floors as they indulged in the spoils of their privilege.

Among them, Alexander's favorite niece, Sofia Blackwood, navigated the sea of masked faces, her steps hesitant as she struggled to mask her discomfort beneath a façade of poise and grace. That night, she mustered the courage to ask her uncle to fund her college education, considering that her parents disapproved of her choice of study and promised to cut ties if she pursued it.

The air was heavy with the scent of expensive perfumes and the sickly sweetness of excess, but beneath it, a palpable tension lurked—a sense of impending doom that clung to the shadows like a vengeful specter. As the night wore on and inhibitions faded, Sofia was drawn to a secluded balcony overlooking the sprawling gardens below. She needed a moment to think, to gather herself before locating her uncle. Taking deep breaths, Sofia closed her eyes before looking at the scenery. A small smile appeared as she reminisced about when her uncle would play tag with her in the garden - tiny Sofia would run around the hedges, past the fountain, and up the staircase leading back to the manor as Alexander chased her. As her eyes followed the path, her smile quickly dropped as a cold chill shot through her blood.

There, amidst the ivy-covered trellises and moonlit fountains, she stumbled upon a sight that would forever haunt her nightmares. A figure lay sprawled across the cold stone tiles—a man, his once-immaculate tuxedo now stained with the crimson evidence of his demise. His eyes, wide with terror, stared unseeing into the night while multiple grotesque gashes marred his throat, the blood still warm and viscous against his pallid skin.

Sofia recoiled in horror, bile rising in her throat as she struggled to comprehend the brutality of the scene before her. The metallic tang of blood filled her nostrils, and she fought to suppress the urge to hurl as the reality of the situation washed over her in sickening waves. Instead of vomit coming out of her mouth, a guttural, heart-wrenching shriek replaced it. Multiple footsteps rush towards her before halting abruptly, filling the evening atmosphere with their wails. Around her, the party descended into chaos, the revelry shattered by the specter of death that now loomed over them all. Sofia was grabbed by her mother and father and ushered into an enclosed room where she finally regurgitated her evening meal onto the pristine marble floors.

Guests screamed and fled in panic, their masks slipping in their haste to escape the scene of the carnage unfolding before their eyes. All but one remained rooted to the spot, their gaze fixed on the lifeless form before them. Taking off their mask reveals a Black man with a scowl so deep in hatred that one would have thought he was the one who committed the murder. His dark brown eyes glower down at the body before being covered by the full face mask again. Quickly, he returned to the building, stomping down the velvet-covered stairs and pushing his way to the front of the small crowd around the crime scene.

As the crowd prayed, cried, and cursed the murderer to hell, the man's eyes focused on the wound on his neck. The gashes weren't a nice clean slice as if it were with a standard knife; they were thinner, deeper, and jagged with bits of flesh dangling and sticking out on the sides. No, a knife hadn't done this, but a set of claws-

"It was the Prowler!" a voice declared, "Look at the claw marks! That fucking bastard killed Alex!"

"I heard he's working with Fisk now. That fucking mammoth hated Alexander," another voice added, "He probably put a hit out."

"But on his wife's birthday? At a big event like this when we're all here?" A third chimed in. The second shook his head while pointing to Alexander's dead body.

"You don't know those men like I do; Alex was his number one enemy. When Fisk's family died, he asked Alex to help with some investments on some secret project; the hell if I know what it is. Alex said the fucker went batshit crazy when he lost his wife and was all over the news saying it too. It was supposed to be a wake-up call, but Fisk took that as disrespect and has been an enemy to the Blackwood family ever since. Dropping sponsorships, buying out companies, blocking his political power, I know that son of a bitch got something to do with this!"

The first voice suddenly reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a gun. "Fuck," he spat, "Fuck, fuck! To fucking hell with Fisk! I was THIS close to buying off those fucking votes! All that money gone to shit - where the FUCK is that purple bastard?! I'm putting a bullet through his head and then into Fisk's next!" With the sudden uproar, the first voice stormed back into the manor, which prompted others to do the same, all looking for the Prowler. He was already gone, however - he snuck out of the manor and into the thicket surrounding the manor, climbing onto his motorcycle and speeding off towards Brooklin. As he blares down the road, he tears off his mask again - brown eyes darkened as a single thought runs through his head.

That bitch stole my fucking kill.

Aaron swore to his momma that he’d never hit a girl, but this bitch was asking for it. It wasn��t the first time Black Cat had killed someone on his list; no, it’s been months since their first encounter. But for how long will this keep happening? The year is almost over, and he’s only been responsible for the deaths of four unlucky souls. Four, while she had six. Five of which were stolen right from his grasp. To say he was upset is an understatement. Annoyed? Oh, that’s long gone. Pissed? Maybe two months ago. Enraged? Closer, but not quite.

It’s gotten to the point where his work has become sloppy - disregarding his usual planned and strategic approach for a quicker and easier route just in case she was around. One time he even took a gunshot to his shoulder because of his blatant tunnel vision - Fisk gave him shit for it and benched him for a few weeks to heal before shoving him back into work. Aaron figures he’s going to be hooked on painkillers for a long while.

Speaking of the Kingpin, Aaron wasn’t sure how to explain what happened tonight, hell he doesn’t even know what happened tonight. All he knew was that he had only been at the party for around fifteen to twenty minutes before Sophia’s screams were heard. The party had only been going on for about ten minutes before he arrived, so within that thirty-minute window, Black Cat had arrived at the party, isolated Alexander, and killed him.

Based on his wounds, Aaron deduced that they weren’t deep enough to make a swift and easy kill. As he studied the evidence photos of Alexander after he hacked into the BPD police files, he zoomed in closely on the gashes. While it did look like claw marks, they were uneven and choppy. It wasn’t a clean strike either - it was slanted and angled more vertically than anything. A clear indication of a height difference, Aaron noted.

Alexander was six feet tall exactly; if Black Cat had struggled to get to his neck, she’d be closer to five feet in height, five feet and five inches at max. Aaron paused and wondered if she were wearing heels or platforms that night - it would make sense, considering she’d have to blend into a masquerade-styled party. That would put her shorter than five feet and five inches, the average height for women in Brooklyn. He wrote that down on a notepad and kept examining the photos.

The pieces of flesh that stuck out kept drawing his attention. It looked like the results of his prototype claw gauntlets. They were made of random and uncut metals that weren't accurately measured or maintained. The metal would often be too sharp or dull and get stuck underneath the victim’s skin due to the curvature of the claws. Once he drew back his hand, he would quite literally rip out the area of flesh he had made contact with. While it got the job done, it was a messy and loud kill, prompting him to update his weapon.

It was evident to Aaron that Black Cat’s weapon was similar to his prototype; however, one thing still bothered him - it was a silent kill. The initial contact had been on the side of his neck, still leaving enough airway to scream out for help or in pain. No one heard anything, and according to the witness statements, no one had noticed that Alexander was not present at the party. Aaron frowned at that detail - Alexander Blackwood wasn’t stupid. Someone, be it a guard or even his wife, had to have known he was separating himself from the partygoers. A man who has many enemies wouldn’t dare leave without alerting someone.

Another thing that bothered him was that Alexander wasn’t some snobby old rich guy. Blackwood was a black belt in his youth; he competed in and eventually founded various boxing matches and fight clubs across the United States. He was highly trained in artillery and probably would have been a military commander by now if he wasn’t in control of New York’s corrupt legal system. Simply put, Alexander Blackwood was a force to be reckoned with, just to be cut down by some female in a black leather jumpsuit. It just didn’t make sense.

All of Black Cat’s six kills before Alexander Blackwood had been young men and women of minor importance—quick money, as Aaron called it. The targets Fisk had assigned to the Prowler were gang leaders, drug dealers, and old henchmen whom Fisk no longer needed. This jump from stepping on an ant to straight-up maiming a lion was highly unusual for some uptown thief in a bodysuit. A whole year with little to no gains was starting to get to the mercenary; he needed to get to the bottom of this shit and quickly.

Aaron rubbed his hand across his face and turned towards another monitor, clicking on Google and searching up “Black Cat Brooklin.” He was hoping something new would pop up, but all he found were a few articles and stories he’d already researched.

There was a video that had gone viral a month ago; it was the CCTV footage of a jewelry store that the villainess had broken into. She wore her classic attire, mask, and a white straightened angled bob. Strolling around the store, she opened the displays and bagged all the merchandise, even trying on some and posing in a mirror hanging on the wall. Afterward, she shouldered the duffel bag, blew a kiss at the camera, and left out of the vent system she had used to get into the building. The uproar on memes and parodies of the event were all over Aaron’s feed for days. Women were gushing over her bad bitch aura, creating fan pages, and even going out and buying white wigs, dyes, and bundles just to look like her. And, of course, the men were practically fapping their dicks, saying how she was too delicate to go to prison, how they too would steal some shit in this economy; they were lowkey gassing her up more than the women did.

Aaron didn’t care enough to have an opinion; at that time, she was just some thief. But it’s different now, he thought, she’s more than a thief, she’s a killer. This year was the first year of her dipping her toes into homicide, and from Aaron’s knowledge, she hadn’t even been caught yet. Aaron wondered if those men and women would still support her after it’s exposed that she killed six people in over a year, but he figured they probably still would - the world is fucking crazy nowadays.

Right now at the moment, he was just mindlessly scrolling, clicking on the fan pages and profiles for any information he could gain on her. And then, after refreshing for the tenth time, a new video popped up titled “BLACK CAT HAS A NEW WEAPON (and it reminds me of someone 🤔) | New Look, New Tactics.” Aaron immediately clicked on the video and recognized the person in the commentary as an influencer who was one of the ones who made the robbing video famous by creating a whole trend based on it. The video started with random filler topics, which Aaron graciously skipped through before getting down to the central part of the video.

“Okay, guys, so let’s get to the tea; last night, Black Cat was seen scaling buildings and rooftops downtown with a new look, baby! Let’s look at what Miss Cat got going on for us,” the influencer starts, clicking on a Twitter thread showing a few off-guard pictures and videos of the thief.

“Oh, my God, you guys! Look at that fur, okay, hold on, I’m getting ahead of myself,” she laughed before viewing the first picture and zooming in. “Okay, first thing’s first, that hair, baby! Miss Cat said new hair, new me, and rocking this new do! Gone is her angled bob, replaced with these cute goddess passion twists; I love this! Of course, it’s colored in her signature platinum. Is it platinum? Platinum feels more yellow to me, maybe just plain white? Or maybe more like a frosty white, you know? Yeah, let’s go with that, haha! Edges are laid to perfection, makeup always looking fresh, ugh I’m telling all of you Miss Cat needs to open up shop cause I would pay-“

Aaron skipped ahead a little more; it’s nothing new that Black Cat constantly changed up her hairstyle and makeup looks. It's a smart move, considering how easy it is to track someone nowadays. Her indecisiveness is the sole reason no one has found out who she is; by the time they get comfortable with one look, it’s on to the next.

“Alright, so let’s talk about this new suit. So, I do get why most people say this isn’t a new suit. I mean, it is just the same suit with more fur, probably to keep warm since we are in winter, but I like to call it a new suit solely for these!” The influencer moves to the following picture, a close-up of Black Cat’s arms - which had two slender gauntlets with claw-like attachments. Aaron sat up and leaned towards the screen. Those looked familiar - real fucking familiar.

“That’s right, guys, Black Cat has a new weapon! This kitty has claws, and she is not afraid to use them! Many people say they love it; it’s on brand with the whole cat thing and a way better choice than the staff she used. I love the claws; they bring her a new, dangerous vibe. Like, before, she was just this common thief we all made jokes about, but now it’s like, damn, she's pretty serious about this. Miss Cat said to put some respect on her name; she isn’t any weak runt of the litter; she is THE Black Cat. Quit playing with her; this is serious business! Now, next, we have a quick little video of this new weapon in action, but before that, a quick word from our sponsor-“

Yeah, no, fuck that. Aaron skips again to where the video starts, and his leg bounces. There’s no way, there’s no fucking way, right? Right?

The video in the thread plays, and it shows Black Cat using the claws to climb up a brick wall, leaving significant scratch marks and puncture holes etched into the concrete. Then, once on top of the roof, she raises her hand and flexes it, which seems to trigger some mechanism as the claw part of the gauntlet shoots out and attaches itself to the edge of another roof two buildings across. Black Cat then runs and jumps off the roof she was currently on and uses the rope-like connection lodged between the claw part and the rest of the gauntlet. She swings towards the building, and on the video, the connection shortens, creating a grappling hook. The video shows her safely landing and repeating the action for another building before it ends.

The video cuts back to the influencer as she comments, “So, as we can see, it’s like a grappling hook, kind of? That’s cool; I wish I had a grappling hook. Then I could properly get to work on time when there’s traffic-“

Aaron exits the video before finding the Twitter thread and checking the comments. There are screenshots of the gauntlet from different angles and a few claims that it had sometimes glowed purple. After reading more and more comments about the description of the gauntlet, Aaron leans back in his chair and blinks.

That’s my gauntlet, he thinks; that’s my prototype.

Immediately, he calls Fisk - the one person Aaron trusted enough to leave the prototype with due to his high-security level warehouses and marked a sign of mutual trust between the two business partners. After quickly catching Fisk up to date, Fisk left to check the warehouse himself before confirming that the prototype was indeed missing - stating that they had numerous techs slowly disappear since the end of the previous year but couldn’t pin who it was or how they broke in.

The whole reason he wanted Alexander dead was because he was the only other person who knew where Fisk’s warehouses were, so the Kingpin thought he was the one who did it. Regardless, Fisk seemed intrigued that Aaron had made the connection to Black Cat, but Aaron was too busy breathing fire to even tune in on what the Kingpin was saying, causing him to drop the line altogether.

Aaron could feel the uncomfortable heat of anger creeping up his spine and seeping into his brain, as he returned to the thread and checked the new comments.

It didn't take long before the public started to bring up the Prowler’s weapon and their similarities. After rewatching the video five more times, Aaron noticed the prototype was tampered with. Every major flaw Aaron had trouble with had been fixed to a degree. Aaron closed his eyes and leaned back, his leg bouncing rapidly before suddenly stopping.

“It’s my prototype, he mumbles, “And she fixed it. She took my shit and made it better.” He slowly opens his eyes; green envy returns to his dark brown eyes. “First, she steals my kills, and now she steals my tech,” he chuckles before laughing and slamming his palm down onto his desk. “I am,” he laughs, “I am going to fucking end this bitch.”

Tag list: @mordeiswrld @arielpanda1 @young-dc @fossilizedbeetle @super-nova-2006 @chelsea-xxx2003 @fandom-multiamory @leahnicole1219

[bogwaterparasite]

Sketchbook

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Pairing: Miles Morales-42 x Reader

CW: None, just fluff

WC: 1.4k

A/N: This was part of an ongoing series I had on Ao3 when Spider-Man ATSV was popular, I lost motivation to keep it going (I forgot what the plot was gonna be) so I hope yall enjoy the few episodes I had

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Everyone hates waking up in the mornings to a loud beeping sound coming from whatever device you use as an alarm, some people are lucky and their bodies are programmed to wake up exactly at the same time every single day, but sadly I am not one of those people. A loud groan escaped my lips as the obnoxious sound of the alarm woke me, making all my peaceful dreams flee my mind. Reluctantly, I sit up, rubbing my eyes to get rid of any sleep threatening to cling onto me before climbing down from the bunk bed. My gaze shifted over to the top bunk where my roommate remained dead asleep, as per usual. Sometimes I wonder if she has superpowers, not once have I seen her actually go to a class, but yet she has killer grades! How does she do it? The world may never know.

Emerging from the quiet sanctuary of my dorm room into the chaos of the hallway, the cacophony of conversations, laughs, and occasional screams of surprise or delight were quick to pierce the once serene atmosphere of the dorm. I paused for a moment, readjusting myself to the new environment, taking it all in while walking down the corridor towards my locker. I popped open the door and pulled out my belongings, putting others that I wouldn’t need into the empty space. With a quick swing, my backpack landed swiftly over my shoulder, proceeding to slam the door shut, and continued my route to my first period.

Staring ahead, my mind was back to being consumed by my thoughts as I lazily walked to my first class. Typical trivial things such as what I’d have to eat, or what to do with your free time when you don’t have any friends, you know.. normal teen stuff. Yet, those thoughts quickly subsided as I was abruptly knocked off my balance. Stumbling forward, my arms flailed around wildly trying to hold on to something for support, quickly regaining my footing and looking back towards the person who I seemed to have tripped over.

“Sorry”

At first glance it was hard to recognize the culprit, but as my gaze focused on his I realized it was no other than Miles.

To say we were friends was an overstatement, we shared a couple of classes together, and sure we talked sometimes, but apart from that? He didn’t seem to care less about me as a person. Before I could respond, or even say something, he walked away, not interested on keeping the conversation going.

Alright?

I was about to head off, but just out of the corner of my eye I could see something on the floor. Curious, i bent down and picked it up. It was a black sketchbook, a few colorful lines and stickers on the cover, i glanced around to see if it belonged to any of the students nearby, but no one even batted an eye. Standing up again, my mind drifted off to my earlier encounter, it must have been his. I turned to see if by chance Miles was still somewhere on the hallway, but he was far gone.

My eyes drifted off to the clock, a minute remained until the start of class, cutting my time short. Quickly stuffing the sketchbook into my bag, I made a dash for the classroom.

Thankfully, I made it just in time, everyone was already in their seats but the teacher still wasn’t here. A relieved sigh escaped my lips as I made my way to my seat. It didn’t take long for the teacher to arrive and start the lesson, yet It felt almost impossible to pay attention to the words spewing from his mouth. I wondered what his art looked like, the pages seemed to crumble a little making the sketchbook thicker, was he a good artist? The temptation to look at its contents was eating its way out, but I persisted. It wouldn’t be right to violate his privacy, no matter how much I wanted to take a peek.

“Díaz, are you paying attention?”

Mr. Anderson brought me out of my thoughts once again. My gaze met his, then proceeded to take a look around the room… everyone was watching.

Immediately, the possibility of being swallowed whole by the earth seemed enticing. Shrinking into my spot as my cheeks took a reddish tint.

“sorry..”

“..Anywho, as I was saying”

As he turned back to the chalk board, everyone soon went back to writing things down, and I followed, forgetting the topic of the notebook and Miles… or at least trying to.

Time seemed to fly by after the incident, my mind being far too focused on the piles of homework that were assigned with little to no class time left. Soon enough, it was fourth hour, the one class I looked forward to, and coincidentally enough, the class I had with miles.

When I entered the room I was quick to notice only a handful of students were actually there. Yet, after a quick scanning I came to the conclusion that he wasn’t any of them.. hopefully he didn’t decide to skip class today.

I slipped my earbuds in, desperate to muffle the rising classroom din as more students filed in. My hope of his arrival was fading with each passing minute, the possibility of him showing up growing slimmer by the second. Then, almost miraculously, with barely a minute left in class, he materialized out of thin air. His hazel eyes briefly met mine before he turned away, rejoining the conversation he'd been having with those surrounding him.

Reaching down to my bag, I pulled out the sketchbook, carefully placing it on the desk. Hesitating slightly, my hand outstretched and tapped his shoulder… nothing. An eyebrow quirked in confusion as I tried again once more, yet he didn’t even flinch.

Was he ignoring me? Or did he genuinely not feel someone poking his shoulder? Regardless of what it was, I was just about ready to give up all hope and simply slide it over, all up until I saw one of his friends quirk his head towards me.

Miles turned to face me, his face holding a confused expression, maybe even annoyed, yet, it quickly faded as his eyes landed on the square object.

“This is yours, right?”

He didn’t hesitate, not wasting a single second before snatching the sketchbook from my hands. His once hardened expression now softened, a relief seemingly washing over him for that split second, then he remembered I spoke.

“Yeah, thanks”

As he spoke, he gave me a warm smile, his appreciation palpable in the subtle curve of his lips. The gesture was delicate, almost imperceptible, yet something profound shifted in his typically harsh expression. His perpetually cold gaze momentarily thawed, softening with an unexpected vulnerability, a side he never really showed… it was nice.

He turned around just as our teacher entered the classroom, exchanging quick pleasantries before launching into the day's lesson. Assignments accumulated steadily, and soon the teacher divided us into partners for a worksheet that felt more like a perfunctory exercise. I found myself paired with Miles. We settled into a comfortable silence, our proximity neither awkward nor forced. Without a word exchanged, we both bent our heads over the worksheet, an unspoken understanding between us.

Eventually, I finished the worksheet and stretched back in my chair, a subtle sense of accomplishment settling over. Stealing a glance sideways, I caught Miles engrossed in his sketchbook, his pencil moving with practiced ease. Curiosity finally got the better of me, leaning closer to him. His page was filled with intricate portraits—faces emerging from delicate lines and subtle shading. I found myself transfixed, unable to look away as the figures took shape beneath his hand.

“You’re a really good artist”

Resting my cheek on my palm, I continued to look down at the colorful page, yet, he suddenly stopped and looked at me. Mimicking his action, my gaze slowly lifted from the drawing, finding its way to his face. Our eyes met and locked, creating a charged silence that seemed to stop time itself, neither of us uttering a word. Perplexed by his this, I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head slightly.

“Do I have something on my face?”

As my voice filled the air, he seemed to get out of his trance, shaking his head and going back to drawing sharp and precise strokes on the piece of paper. A small chuckle escaped my lips, who knew he was actually awkward.

“No, uh… Thanks”

He finally answered, avoiding my own gaze. I hummed in response, continuing to watch as he drew. It was almost mesmerizing, art was something so beautiful, I was a bit of an artist myself, but if he didn’t want to know then there was no reason to tell him about it.

We remained like that for the rest of class, he continued to doodle away besides me as I watched, every now and then glancing away and talking to someone in case he was getting uncomfortable with my presence, eventually the bell rang, signaling the end of class. While walking out of the classroom I felt a slight tug at my bag, almost sounding like someone slapped it. I turned in order to see who did that, but as I turned miles smoothly escaped from behind me, out of sight and earshot.

I pulled my backpack off my shoulder, there was a small yellow sticky note on top of it with a small doodle of him on it, my lips curled into a smile again, looking at the hallway in which he had made his escape shaking my head.

It was kept safely between two notebooks until the end of the day

[hiro--aoki]

Erm so I made a spidersona...

Sowler nation will become a thing, trust

[aspidisnothere]

He was a liar.

He senses it—those moments when the chasm between them widens into an abyss she can't ignore. His glances are shards of ice compared to the warmth she remembers from the other Hobie, the one she's half in love with or maybe more. He's flying blind, guided only by the scraps she's thrown him about his alter-ego, a shadow from another universe.

If only he could pry into the mind of his doppelgänger, hack into those comforting gestures—those fleeting touches, the weight of an arm around her shoulder while they endure Miguel's monologues. Then he could puppeteer her emotions more deftly. As it stands, he's forced to watch her, hesitating, her eyes seeking answers in his before her lips curve into that hesitant smile.

He gets lucky sometimes. His essence is, after all, cut from the same cosmic cloth—just colored by different shades of hell. Those instances, those fractions of seconds when their habits born of survival overlap, he sees her body language uncoil, sees her let down her guard.

Occasionally, his fingers will lift her chin after their conversations, a shared intimacy he never meant but she recognizes. And for that instant, her eyes ignite, betraying what words were never meant to express.

He toys with the idea of unraveling around her, letting his uncalculated instincts sync with her reality. But he knows the precipice he's on—that one wrong move could snap the tenuous thread connecting them, making all his sugar-coated lies worthless.

Anika's naive, but not a fool. If the discord between the two Hobies becomes glaring, even her raging passion won't salvage the wreckage.

Hobie is a man more often at war with the world than with himself. His decisions, usually calculated to the nth degree, rarely leave him in limbo. But as he lies on her bed, staring at the ceiling while she's out fighting her own battles, he's torn—wrestling with whether his newfound vulnerability is a tactical move or a desire he dares not admit.

[hobiebrownismygod]

Masterlist!

Taglist link:

REQS ARE OPEN!!

I write fluff, angst, toxic relationships, headcanons, basically anything that doesn't involve smut!!

Fanfictions/Headcanons:

Hobie Brown:

Hobie seeing the sunset for the first time in Pav's universe

—> “like what you see?”

Hobie Brown is emotionally unavailable/struggles with showing emotions

Hobie brown x GN!Reader

—> hobie comfort - “I just need you”

Hobie Brown x Desi!Reader

Hobie Brown/ Spider Punk x GN!Reader

—> “it’s spiderMAN”

Hobie x Flexible!Spider-person Reader

—> “freaks me out”

Toxic Relationship - Hobie brown x Reader/OC

Hobie Brown x Gwen Stacy Variant

—> “I can’t lose her”

Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

--> Such a lovely face

StreetKid!Hobie x Fem!Reader

--> "you can thank me by staying safe"

Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

--> Sketching out chaos

Pavitr Prabhakar:

Pavitr Prabhakar x Indian!reader - Platonic

—> “us desi’s gotta stick together, right?”

Pavitr Prabhakar x Fem!PakistaniReader

—> “you love me, Meri Jaan”

Pavitr Prabhakar headcanons

Miles G Morales/Prowler Miles:

Miles G Morales/Prowler Miles Headcanons

Miles-42 x GN!Reader

—> “who gave you the right?”

Miles-42 x Gwen-42 Part 1 - First Look

Miles-42 x Gwen-42 Part 2 - Silent Sketches

Prowler Miles x Reader - Wattpad Fic

--> be careful, its dangerous out there

Gwen Stacy:

-None yet

1610-Miles:

Rising - Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

—> Uncle Aaron is dead, but the Prowler returns.

Miguel O'Hara:

Miguel O'Hara x Desi!Reader - Wedding Edition

--> “it’s a date”

Note: Feel free to leave requests for any of these characters, or more if you can think of them <3 Heads up, I usually post requested fanfictions anywhere from 4-14 days after receiving the ask, due to my queue usually being pretty filled up.

Researching Characters Series:

Part 1 - Hobie Brown

Part 2 - Pavitr Prabhakar

Part 3 - Miles G./Prowler Miles

Part 4 - Spider-Noir/Peter Benjamin Parker

Part 5 - Peni Parker

Part 6 - Margo Kess/Spyder-Byte

Part 7 - Malala Windsor/Spider-UK

My OC:

Introduction - Meet Maitreyi Jokhar!

Spider-Sona Art

Universe Building

Headcanon 1 - She practices her skills in her free time

Headcanon 2 - Hobie seeing her cry for the first time

Headcanon 3 - First Diwali

Backstory Part 1

Backstory Part 2

Backstory Part 3

Backstory Part 4

BTW I write longer ATSV Fanfics on Wattpad

You can access my profile here

[ch3rryb00m98]

Fun redraw! Trying to save the city, only slightly panicking…

[burntpastel]

plops my oc here. this is Mac! (they/them)

[multifariousqueer]

Y’all oml Tumblr didnt put a review on my earth42!miles smut hcs

[kuvstark]

SPIDER-MAN: PROLOGUE TO BEYOND THE SPIDER-VERSE

UM, EXCUSE ME MISTER, BUT CAN YOU PLEASE TURN DOWN THE LIGHTS? I DONT REALLY LIKE ALL THESE CAMERAS, MAN AND THIS SHIT JUST DONT FEEL RIGHT.

a potential fanfic idea: where there is a spider person in earth-42

warning: tiny bit of spoilers for across the spider verse

basically, another power-hungry scientist similar to the spot would find out that a organization like oscorp industries were conducting research/experiments on genetically modified, radioactive spiders, with the possibilities that it’s genetic modifications would give a person superpowers when bit.

granted, the person decides to steal one of the spiders to test it themselves. then, they come home one night and the spider is just gone. of course, they start panicking because they can’t find said spider, and that means it’s loose (and it ends up biting a fifteen year old girl with no desire to be spider-man, and shit just starts hitting the fan)

the character would get bit at the end of across the spider-verse, so while everyone is worried about the spot and catching miles, no one would know about her presence/or about the fact that she recently got bit and she just kind of gets dragged into everything without warning.

note: this is a brief idea, I’m open to any suggestions/ideas if this becomes a potential fanfic

[html-nae]

Sooooo this is a sneak peak at the fight scene… IT WILL BE CREED!CODED but hush and ITS NOT THE ENTIRE THING I might make it a series depending on how this sneak peak goes but this is not the beginning nor is it the end of the au

[dreadheadmadi]

- I’M GONNA CLAW THOSE PRETTY LIL’ EYES OUT MASTERLIST

Parings: The Prowler (Aaron Davis) x Black Cat Variant! OC

Warnings: action, fighting, blood, gore, descriptive language, death, murder, cussing, strong language, kidnapping, gun violence, stalking, torture, manipulation

A/N: Trying something new, we’ll see how this goes. I’m a college girlie, so updates are slow!

OC Descriptions + Character Wikis

PROLOGUE

[bogwaterparasite]

Stalking

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Paring: Miles Morales-42 x Reader

WC: 2.1k

CW: None

A/N: Third chapter and oh lord… no wonder this project was abandoned LMFAOOOO, uhm, well!! I hope you guys enjoy this? I practically rewrote the entire thing but kept the whole plot I had in mind at the moment, so you might see a change in the writing. It seems like I also only had 3 chapters, and honestly? I don’t know where to take it from here.

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Growing up teaches you a harsh reality that not many are able to accept, days off are a myth. Even when you're supposed to be relaxing, there's always something demanding your attention. For high school students like me, "free time" is just another opportunity to study, to prepare for the next exam, to keep that perfect grade that might not even matter in the grand scheme of things. Weekends become a continuous cycle of burning words and numbers into your brain, hoping to maintain that elusive 100 on a piece of paper.

This particular weekend, I found myself drawn home to study, seeking some undefined comfort in family proximity. Looking back, I'm not sure it was the smartest decision.

The cacophony of my family home crashed against my already frayed nerves. My mother's music battled with the construction-level noise of my younger nephews, her occasional disciplinary yells cutting through the chaos. The two earbuds wedged in my ears offered minimal protection, more a psychological shield than an actual sound barrier. Typically this wouldn’t have bothered me, my family is huge and the years of being in this exact position should’ve made me immune to the noise, but no. Stress has a way of amplifying every sound, every movement, until the world feels like it's pressing down on you.

When my nephew's cry pierced through my music, something inside me cracked. I needed to escape before I joined him in tears.

"Alvaro Deja eso ah- Mija? Where are you going? Do you have practice today or something?"

My mom paused her cleaning, lowering the vacuum's roar and dimming her music. I fumbled with my shoes, leaning against the wall for support as I struggled to slip on the boots.

"No, I'm gonna head to the coffee shop for something to eat. I'm craving a croissant," I replied, managing a light chuckle.

She rolled her eyes. "Tu y esas cochinadas.. Be back before dinner, alright? And don't fill yourself up with food, it's bad for you!"

"Yeah yeah, I know."

After finally getting able to get the shoes on my feet, I proceeded to pick up the bag on the floor, quickly slipping it over my shoulder before walking to her side, giving a quick kiss on her cheek, and practically bolting through the door.

Brooklyn's streets were a symphony of urban noise - horns honking, construction drilling, people chattering. But with my earbuds firmly in place, the world transformed. As corny as it sounds, the music became my runway, and suddenly, I was more than just a stressed teenager. I was a model, head high, stride confident, face stoic. It was a momentary escape, a fantasy that I fabricated to escape the reality that haunted me, a fantasy that lasted right up until the mortifying thought of someone reading my mind would snap me back to reality.

The familiar cafe welcomed me, a sanctuary of warmth and routine. In the corner behind the counter you could see, and hear, Linda and her husband, an elderly couple who'd run this place for decades, who continued their eternal love story. They laughed like teenagers, their connection a beacon of hope in a world of fleeting connections and situationships. Some part of me hoped someday I would be able to have something like that, a relationship so full of love despite being together for so long. But during this day and age? It’s highly unlikely

I took out the earbuds from my ears, pausing the music from my phone as Linda greeted me with her usual brightness. We chatted about school, her children, their latest adventures. Talking with her was like a breath of fresh air, a small moment of genuine human connection that could lift even the heaviest mood.

After our conversation, I settled at a window counter, laptop out, diving deep into my studies. The world around me dissolved. Sounds became a distant buzz, my focus laser-sharp on the screen, analyzing every word, every detail.

"Weirdo..."

The coffee shop had always been his sanctuary - a place of quiet study just blocks from home. Today, however, something felt different. Different, because *she* was also there.

Miles caught sight of her hunched over her laptop, that distinctive hairstyle instantly recognizable. A smile crept across his lips before he could stop it. He'd never considered himself particularly social. Just days ago, she was just another face in his biology class - someone who existed out of the corner of his eye, boring and easily ignored. So why couldn't he stop thinking about her now?

Grabbing his usual drink, Miles approached her table with a casualness that mimicked his usual demeanor. He sat down besides her, avoiding any direct interaction with her. Don't seem desperate. Don't seem like you're trying

The window became his focal point, the shield against his confusing emotions. Each sip of his drink was calculated, each glance carefully measured. But concentration proved impossible. Ten minutes passed, and she remained completely absorbed in her studies, unaware of his presence.

An unfamiliar restlessness grew inside him. Irritation? Curiosity? His emotions tangled themselves into something he couldn't quite name..

Finally, he turned. His cheek rested against his knuckles while studying her profile. *Should I say something? Would she even notice?* The internal debate felt ridiculous. He, Miles Morales, was overthinking an interaction with a classmate who’s name he couldn’t even remember… ironic.

When she finally looked up, the shift in her expression was fascinating. Initial confusion transformed into recognition, surprise prominent in her face. His own lips quirked into an unexpected smile, a small laugh following afterward.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take you," he found himself speaking first, the words coming out more confident than he felt. "You need to be more aware of your surroundings, especially in public spaces. Someone could've stolen something, and you'd have no clue."

It was a deflection, really. A way to cover the fact that he'd been watching her, wondering about her, trying to understand this sudden fascination that seemed to consume him whole these last few days. His friends would never believe this. The guy known for his stoic demeanor, practically staking out a spot just to sit near someone who, mere days ago, he'd found merely tolerable? It was ridiculous.. laughable, and that just made him feel even more ridiculous.

"Are you stalking me or something?"

The words slipped out of my mouth before I could fully comprehend the situation. Before the day he lost his sketchbook, he could be compared to a ghost. A person I only saw during biology, but now? He was everywhere!! The library, the hallways, the goddamned coffee shop that I frequented.. it was only plausible to assume he was doing it on purpose!

To my surprise, he laughed at the accusation. Not a small chuckle, but a genuine, full-bodied laugh that seemed to surprise even him. His usual sharp features softened, revealing a vulnerability I'd never seen before. This all just made it contagious, a smile tugging at my lips before I started to laugh as well.

“I think it should be me asking you that question.. suddenly you’re everywhere I go. It’s getting creepy” he spoke, his laugh diminishing yet leaving a small smile remaining on his lips.

“Let me remind you that I was here first” I answered, resting my elbow on the table and leaning my cheek against the palm of my hand, “and besides, I am not the weirdo that sat there staring at an oblivious person for god knows how long”

My intentions were to tease him, however, his reaction made me realize that it indeed wasn’t the way it played out. His smile faded, his eyes falling on the window once more as he coughed to clear his throat. My smile slowly faded as well, looking away sheepishly. Maybe I’m getting too comfortable too soon? I mean, we just started talking to each other not too long ago.. I’m definitely being weird.

“Anywho..” Imitating his actions, I coughed to clear my throat. Shutting my computer close and stuffing it back into the bag. “I was already done either way. I’ll get out of your territory now”

As I was about to stand up he reached over for my bag, yanking it away and looking up to meet my eyes once again

“Chill ma, I didn’t say you had to leave” he replied nonchalantly, placing the bag back on the floor next to the bar stool where I once sat “what test were you studying for?”

As we talked, the initial awkwardness I had created dissipated. He wasn't just the intimidating boy from biology class anymore, he was something more like… a friend? I couldn’t quite place what I could associate him with. He spoke passionately about his art, his hands moving expressively, his eyes lighting up with each story. I found myself captivated, not just by his words, but by the way he revealed layers of himself I'd never imagined existed.

My gaze drifted, tracing the lines of his face - his long braids, those sharp yet soft eyes, the subtle curve of his lips, simple and minuscule details I hadn’t ever taken the time to notice. Part of me felt regret for not seeking out a relationship with him before, despite all the opportunities that I was given at the time.

Those thoughts consumed me whole, given away by the fact that I continued shamelessly staring. When he caught onto the fact, I quickly looked away, heat rising to my cheeks.

"Hey, are you even listening?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I zoned out," I mumbled.

“Figured.” He replied quickly, taking out his phone from his pocket and checking the time “it’s getting pretty late out. You should head home soon”

Checking my phone, I realized I was well past my mother's expected return time. Panic seized me.

"Shit... I've got to go!"

I gathered my things in a whirlwind, promising to see him at school, leaving Miles alone in the cafe.

Miles found himself trapped in a dangerous dance of denial. He was spending time with someone he'd previously dismissed, and the very thought made him uncomfortable. People had always seemed to speak about her fondly - mentions in passing during lunch, casual comments about her wit or intelligence, even his own friends had made a few comments about her in some of their classes, but he'd never paid attention. To it

When she sat back down, a strange mix of relief coursed through him, straightening himself out for a moment before returning to his typical relaxed stance

The conversation was typical of those who were just beginning to meet each other, casual comments about their classes, stuff at school.. but then the inevitable topic slipped from her lips. Art.

His whole life, art had become somewhat of a lifeline for him, an escape from a world that could either be your worst enemy or your best friend. He began talking about his passion, the way colors blended, how a single brushstroke could tell an entire story. His hands moved animatedly, revealing a vulnerability he rarely showed. Each word was a piece of himself, carefully being unwrapped and presented to her with an ease that seemed to amaze even himself.

But something was off. Her gaze seemed... different. Not quite listening, but not disinterested either. She was looking at him with an intensity that made him simultaneously uncomfortable and exhilarated.

'Am I boring her?' The thought crashed into him like a tidal wave, a new sense of nervousness beginning to rise within him. Stopping mid sentence, he began eying her carefully. Her gaze was fixed on him, her attention also focused on his being, yet not really his words. Something about her stare felt different. Admiring? Analyzing? The distinction blurred.

"Hey..? Are you listening to me?"

The spell broke. She apologized, something shifting in the air between them. He had planned to ask for her number, to formally start... something. A friendship? More? But before he could gather his thoughts, she was gone.

The walk home was a wind whirl of emotions. His mind battled with the newfound sense of intrigue that overwhelmed him whenever she was around. The questions circled like vultures, offering no resolution to his problem.

His home greeted him with a familiar emptiness. "Pa, Ma, I'm back!" The words echoed through silent rooms. His father was perpetually chasing a promotion, his mother working endless hospital shifts. Loneliness was a familiar companion.

Dropping into his chair, Miles pulled out his books. Study materials stared back, a reminder of why he'd gone to the coffee shop in the first place. Yet all he could think about was her - the way she looked at him, the conversation they'd shared.

"Stupid"

Hi hi!!! I hope you enjoyed this one last snippet, just as I was finishing with the edits I remembered some of the original story that I was gonna go with! Yet, I don’t really find the whole plot line of the female character becoming Spider-Man very interesting… I know a lot of yall don’t comment, but if you have been enjoying the story so far and decide that’s something you would like, please let me know! Otherwise I have a few alternatives to it.

[c17spacefriend17c]

Do we fw WritersClaw…..

Selfship and ocxcanon has been consuming me lately so guys HELP ME PLEASE WHAFAGQG

[tikiki05]

I’ve been seeing lots of chatter from people wanting more fanfic of Earth-42 Miles Morales, so I thought I’d post this fun snippet of him from chapter 9 of my story Prowls for Silk where the Morales’s and the Devis have dinner together!

It’s him talking with his mom and then chatting with the Earth-42 variations of my OCs Jordan and Riley. Riley’s the same age as Miles and goes to Visions Academy with him. They’ve been friends since childhood but have had some turbulence in their friendship due to their own struggles in life. If you guys like it, maybe I’ll post the other Miles snippets from this story? Let me know!

Evening. While Rio rushed to cook a large dinner for her family and their expected guests, Miles was setting the table with plates and cutlery.

“Mijo, you all ready?”

“Yes, mami,” He replied in a slight groan.

“Hey, what’s with the attitude?”

“I don’t have an attitude,” He retorted.

Frowning, Rio went over and held Miles shoulders. “Look, I know you’re not crazy about family gatherings like this, but this means a lot to me. And your uncle, too. I promise we won’t keep you too long, alright? And you can catch up with Riley! That’ll be nice, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess,” He said with a little smile. “It’s just…gonna feel weird having so many people here.”

Rio sighed and nodded her head.

“I get it. Everything will be fine, I promise. You got everything else ready? You got clean clothes on? You smell good?”

“Yes mom,” Miles answered in slight embarrassment.

At that moment, Aaron stepped through the front door with Vinex, Jordan, and Riley after picking them all up in his car. They were each dressed nicer than usual, appropriate for an evening with close family friends.

Rio quickly went over to greet Vinex with a tight hug that was gladly returned.

“Hey you! Ay me, it’s been too long since I’ve last seen you!”

“The same to you, Rio! You look lovely!”

“Please, you’re one to talk with your fancy new chest! Am I allowed to say they look great?”

Vinex let out a hearty laugh while nodding their head, a little embarrassed but mostly delighted at the compliment.

Jordan went over to Miles. “Hey dude! How ya been?”

“I’ve been fine, how’re you?”

“Good, good. The braids are still looking fresh, you’re taking good care of them.”

“Thanks, I’m doing my best, Uncle Aaron helps me a lot.”

“Think you’ll get twists like me one day?”

“Hey, maybe.”

Riley then stepped over, subtly tapping on Jordans hand. Riley always struggled with conversation, and wanted their fathers help.

“Oh, hey, so how’s school going for you two?”

Jordan asked them both.

Miles shrugged. “Fine I guess. I hate the uniforms though, I’ll never get used to it.”

“Same, the colors on them are awful,” Riley agreed.

Miles smirked. “Nah, it’s a good thing you’re in that uniform. Your style’s so trashy.”

“Duh, that’s the point, that’s why I like it.”

“You like everything you own in hot pink and zebra print?”

“And Hello Kitty, don’t forget that.”

“You’re weird.”

“Your face is weird.”

Jordan then cut off the lighthearted roasting. “You’re both weird, especially at being friends.”

“He hates me cause I’m brave,” Riley crossed their arms.

“Yeah, you’d have to be brave to wear what you do outside of school.”

Rio then stepped over. “Are you still having an attitude?”

“It’s fine Rio, they’re just teasing each other, nothing new,” Jordan reassured.

[xxoxobree]

I’m thinking about getting Myself some Miles Morales merch cause duhhh!!! I’m also thinking about giving away a single item of said merchandise. Good idea ? No ? 👀

Comment if you’d want it , dm, inbox whatever🤷🏽‍♀️

Must be a follower of ya girl 🙃

[ch3rryb00m98]

Another redraw! Titan and Kid Cosmic working together💙💜