Responsibility: Gwen Stacy x Male Reader

The Ballad Of Miles Morales

Kingpin let Tombstone do the honors, not wanting to contract some sort of magical disease.

"Um... what's this letter again, boss?" Tombstone asked.

Fisk shook his head and pushed Tombstone away, he wondered why he even kept him around anymore... truthfully, only because he was his most trusted henchman.

Kingpin chanted the letters out loud, old Norse ones that rolled off the tongue.

The room exploded into a cacophony of colors, mostly green, they changed shades with every letter he spoke.

And just as the room exploded, it quietened down.

In the center of the white marbled room, stood a woman, tall and statuesque. Her lips curled up in a seductive smirk.

"It seems Graythorne requires my services, yet again." Amora walked towards the hulking figure of Fisk. "Where is the bastard?"

"Not him this time, It is I that needs you." Fisk looked down at her.

"You, Finally got over that wife of yours?" She batted her eyelashes at him, but he turned away, uninterested.

"I need you for a fight, not whatever that rat has you doing." Fisk referred to his boss.

"And here I thought you actually became interesting." Amora flicked her eyes from the back of Kingpin to Tombstone, who had a blush on his features as he prepared to propose something. "You can fuck off too, lackey."

"Could've just said no..." Tombstone walked away, but not before throwing a packet in her direction. "Contains details bout' the job."

Amora caught it in mid-air using her magic.

Her eyes roamed over the packets as they magically kept switching places.

"Hmm... A pest problem." Amora lazily scanned through the documents provided. "I hardly see why my services are requi-"

Her eyes stopped upon the file of a certain Spider-Woman, in it, there were details about levitation and magic.

"Ah... I understand now." Amora took a seat by levitation. "A magic Spider, that's new."

____

Miles walked all the way to his Uncle Aaron's home, the night seeming to corroborate his mood, with light drizzle sprinkling on his face.

No one believed in him. Not Peter, Not (Y/N), No one.

So he went to the only person he could trust when he was down. His uncle.

He climbed the fire escape, and using the window, entered straight into his uncle's home.

It was dimly lit. Dark, except for a small light from the jukebox his uncle had.

"Unc? You there?" Miles asked out loud, but he got no response.

Miles thought about it before taking out a paper and a pen from his uncle's workshop.

He started writing whatever came to his mind, he didn't even know why he did so. Maybe as a coping mechanism.

'Hey unc... I don't know why I'm writing this or what I'm even feeling right now. I just know that... I need to do this. I'm tired Unc... tired of no one believing in me. I just wanna tell yo-'

His pen stopped when he heard something in the window. Miles' breath hitched in his throat, his mind being prickled on all sides by his Spider-Sense.

On instinct, he felt himself go invisible. A primal sense of fear enveloping his very being.