#42!miles morales x reader

[lady-ashfade]

Jacket obsession

Spider-Verse: You leave a piece of clothing behind with a yandere.

Characters: Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, 42!Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Miguel O'Hara

Warnings: Obsession, stealing, yandere tendencies, just them going lovely over a piece of clothing.

Miles Morales:

Oh poor boy at first freaked out trying to get your attention before you enter the portal without your jacket.

“Wait! You’ll get colded.” He shouted as you entered the portal not hearing him.

After a few seconds after with worry in his chest he looked down at the clothing in hand and realized what he had. A piece of you that he could hold while he was away from you, and he hated being away from you, but the boys heart filled up with happiness.

The clothing smell just like you and if he threw it over a pillow it would be like cuddling with you. Boy is over the moon. And I mean like so giddy it’s embarrassingly cute.

He takes it every where with him, to the kitchen it’s in his hands, watching or playing games? It’s in his lap. He smells it constantly and gets really sad after a week when it doesn’t smell like you anymore.

However when you come back to his dimension and request for your jacket his heart breaks. Boy pouts security at the lose but he sees this as a way to get it to smell like you again and steal it after a while.

Overall if you leave anything he will take it and treasure it until you come back because now he has you for the time being.

He’s more of a clingy yandere but he still can’t help but obsessive over his darling.

“Maybe i could give you one of mine- Incase you lose yours again that is.”

Hobie Brown

Cocky little man notices it before you even want to leave and he knows you’ll forget it so he just lets you.

He loves when you leave things behind, thinks it might be a way of flirting. But when you do leave clothing he just feral about it.

Like he just can’t stop smelling it and just wants to hold it all day. He thinks of how cute you look in or how you smile and everything you do just flashes in his head.

Man is devilish to me. So he has a collection of things he steals from your bedroom when you’re out and he sneaks into your dimension. Clothes, shoes, necklaces or anything he can find.

You come back to him for it but he just holds it in his hands, above you and around the room when you try and take it way. “You mean this jacket?” Boy will have so much fun making you annoyed.

Hobie will leave his jacket on your room in hopes you’d wear it and think of him like he does you. He gets a grin when he thinks about it.

“If yah’ wanted to give me your jacket all yah’ had to do was say so.”

Gwen Stacy

You think she’s just chilling? Um no, she isn’t.

She loves you so much, her whole thing is like “I’ve lost to much.” And if she’s a yandere she can’t stop loving everything you do-Anyway.

She wears it and it can be oversized or maybe tight? She doesn’t care. She doesn’t take it off her body until it stops smelling like you or until she needs to get in her suit.

Gwen is maybe fighting with her self for many different reasons and they are:

“This is creepy.” “Oh cares? They smell so good.”

“They did this on purpose, so cute.” “No they just forgot it Gwen.”

Conflict with her own feelings all the time. But she never stops holding it close.

Gwen likes the idea of wearing your clothes to make it know she’s taken and that you’re hers. Can’t stop thinking of when you get to wear her clothes.

Yes, you guys aren’t “Dating” But your all hers.

“Don’t worry, I kept it so safe. By the way, could I borrow it again?”

Miguel O'Hara

Doesn’t care-Joking.

Miguel wouldn’t think about it at first and knows you just forget it and will come back for it later. But as time goes by, a hour, he can’t stopped looking at it for some reason.

He sneaks over like someone is watching him and picks it up. His mouth waters at the smell of you and he wouldn’t be able to let it go.

It might have rinkles on it from him carrying it so much. It’s his stress ball. You guys ever seen a kid carry around a blanket? Well that’s him.

He does feel wrong for obsessing over the piece of cloth but for different reasons then Gwen. He thinks he’s above something like this, doesn’t think it’s a big deal and he should forget it.

But when it puts it down a few seconds, it’s immediately in his hand again.

Yes, he does put it on a pillow and holds it close like he’s protecting you. He’s practically for when you get to be in his arms.

When you asked for it back he stands still for a minute. He feels sad and hates it because it’s just so stupid! Of course he gives you it back.

“I could give you one of mine…Only because that one doesn’t seem like it keeps you warm.”

42!Miles Morales

He’s a lot like Miguel in this situation a bit. And even if I see him as a big, big hard yandere he doesn’t think this is to big of a deal. Now don’t get me wrong he loves it, he just isn’t crazy as the rest of them.

Though, he does like to have it near him when he sleeps like have you close to him, or smell it whenever he can. Of course he has it in his lap when he’s gaming but the jacket never leaves his room.

Will buy the same one as you so you two can match and he can give you his. He thinks about you wearing something of his, like goes crazy just thinking of it.

You ask for it back? That’s cool, just try and get it from him. He loves to tease you to the ends of the earth and he would give it to you when you ask. But you’re just so cute when you get annoyed.

“If you wanted a jacket mami you could have asked for mine. Think mine would look cuter on you away.”

[liyawritesss]

ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 1.9k

Synopsis: Miles tells his Uncle Aaron the real reason why he’ll always answer his phone for you.

Warnings: Cursing, no usage of [y/n] or second person perspective, brief mention of potential gun usage, old school gang terms (Aaron refers to a gun as a 'pole') I envisioned a late teen 42!Miles so he’s around 17-18 here, but still keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!

A/N: I know I said that the previous fic would more than likely be my only attempt at 42!Miles but the ugly ass nigga is growing on me so…here yall go i guess

Song Suggestions: “So Into You” (Remix) by Sydney Renae; “LORD FORGIVE ME” by Tobe Nwigwe ft. Fat Nwigwe & Pharrell; “Run Tha Streetz” by Tupac, Storm, Mutah, Michel’le

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed @pnkweb

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It went without saying that if it didn’t pertain to family or business, Aaron wasn’t quite fond of the use of phones.

He had a real old school view on them; didn’t like how kids these days were always stuck nose deep into the devices. Of course, he came from a generation where a phone’s only use was to contact another person. He never got into the hype of the latest iPhones, nor did he understand the need for five different cameras attached to the device. The only benefit he saw with the rectangular device was that it made communication more prompt and precise (though he’d never admit that he appreciated being able to play any games he wanted, at his disposal, at any time he wished).

So, naturally, when Miles became old enough to engage in his ‘business’, the one rule Aaron posed that didn’t pertain to the ‘game’ was that him being on his phone was an absolute no-go.

“I ain’t got time for you to be distracted by that thing,” he’d said the very first night Aaron trusted the younger to bring him along, “if you gon’ be in, I need you to be all the way in. No half-assin’ this shit, you hear?”

And of course, Miles agreed, no matter how insufferable the first few weeks of patrol were when Aaron literally locked his cellular device in a safe back at the workshop. While it served to pry the connection the fifteen year old had with the device at the time, it was also his way of teaching Miles to not rely on the device for communication, prompting Miles to fortify new avenues of such. Aaron had a genius nephew, after all, and expected nothing less from the person who would soon take up his mantle as The Prowler.

Though, Aaron started to notice a shift in the practice behavior a few months ago, and it made him wonder had his teachings begun to fall short, even after a few years of the settled routine.

He’d notice the flexing of the younger’s arm whenever the faint buzz from the vibration of Miles’ phone sounded, no doubt squeezing the device in his pocket with his hand.

Aaron also was not ignorant to Miles’ dipping off to the side to answer a quick call in hushed tones, and the words used to address the other person on the line made it clear to the older man that it wasn’t Rio calling him, and it piqued Aaron’s curiosity even more.

Though, Aaron could never say anything, since Miles was sure to put his phone on do not disturb before heading out into the night, and the calls always remained under a minute or two, not taking too much time away from their very serious business. He found himself frustrated because Aaron couldn’t be mad at him for being responsible for his phone usage, despite his own feelings towards the usage of such devices. Yet, it irked him all the same when Miles would take a peek at his phone during a moment of down time, or when he’d caught the boy staring at his messages a couple of times during a debriefing session.

“Aye, c’mon man,” Aaron finally grumbles out one night, sucking his teeth at the sight of Miles tapping away on the brightly lit screen close to his face, illuminating his melanated features, “I need you outta that shit, we got work to do.”

“A’ight, a’ight,” says the younger as he finishes off a text, pocketing his phone and brushing past Aaron briskly, “just had to answer my girl real quick. I’m off it.”

“You better be,” Aaron scolds, “we need you at a’hunnid tonight, Miles. No excuses.”

Though Aaron wasn’t about to let Miles’ admission slip under the radar, the current task at hand was much more pressing than the revelation that his nephew was seeing someone. He’d have to play the father figure role after tonight's mission was complete.

It’s when the deepest shade of midnight blue begins to fade into faint purple hues that Aaron is able to bring up the conversation once again. He tries to make it light, but over the years, his smooth talk has become just as rustic as his Prowler skills. “I’m gon’ have to bring the safe out again if I keep seein’ that phone, Miles.”

The echo of the younger sucking his teeth in annoyance doesn’t fly past Aaron’s head. It’s the response he expected from his nephew. He turns around from his work desk to face the younger, leaning against one of the many concrete pillars that keep the building intact.

“I’m serious, boy,” Aaron asserts, “you been on that phone a lil’ too much lately, man. I’on like it.”

Miles scratches the side of his face; he knows he doesn’t have much of a good excuse to use as to why his eyes have been more on his phone as of late. Well, not an excuse Aaron would find plausible anyway.

“A’ight, Unc. I’ll chill.”

It’s not the exact response that Aaron expects, but if Miles says that he’ll watch his phone activity, the older believes him. The younger has no reason to lie to him, anyway.

A beat passes before Aaron starts again, crossing to the middle of the room where the large, red punching bag.

“So, is she a good distraction,” he muses with a knowing look, “or do I gotta be worried that she gon’ take your head out the game?”

The younger pauses for a second, braids dancing along his shoulder. Then, a lopsided grin spreads across his lips as his head tilts to the side, his eyes wandering. Aaron knows that kind of look. It’s the look of a boy high on love, and from the way Miles fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck, Aaron can deduct that it’s that good loving, too. The kind of loving that Rio gave Jefferson, and it stole the late brother’s heart. It warms his heart to see his nephew sport a look that someone his age should.

“She’s good.” Miles says. “She’s…real good, Tio. Too good, probably.”

Aaron hums in response, the sound coming from the depths of his throat as he pauses, taking in a breath. “Do she know?”

It’s a hard question to ask; Aaron doesn’t want to blow his nephew’s high, but it’s a necessary one to ask. For the safety of all parties involved.

Miles’ smile falters in the slightest, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his eyes cast downward.

“She know I do shit on the low. Not…all this, though.” And from the tone in Miles’ voice, he, too, knows that it’s better this way.

The older begins to walk towards the stairs to exit the workshop building, gesturing to Miles to follow, “Good.”

Aaron thinks back to when he first remembers the diversion of behavior started. Although it wasn’t and never became aggressive, it started with Miles casually peeking at his phone every now and then, maybe once or twice throughout the whole night the two were set together. He puts two and two together, his head nodding to the conclusion he’d drawn.

“So it’s her you be textin’?” Aaron asks, descending the stairs.

The younger nods, following in tow, “Just lettin’ her know that I’ma be out and can’t answer the phone, shit like that.”

“And when she do call?”

A light, dry chuckle escapes Miles’ lips at the question. “She just be askin’ me shit.”

“Shit like what?” Aaron muses, twisting the knob to the door leading outside, opening it to reveal purple hues slowly fading into peach in the sky. “What color nails for her to get? Password to the Netflix?”

They get to the car, but the silence that takes place during the short time it takes to approach the older’s vehicle answers his own question before Miles does.

“Yeah, actually,” the younger voice, arms folding atop the car roof, leaning against the sleek black metal as he looks at his uncle, “and the color for her peek-a-boo braids; and if it’s okay if she eats my leftover takeout; and if I can hang up her wall art thingy when I come by-”

“-so what you’re saying is, she’s clingy?” The older’s eyebrows furrow in amusement and slight confusion - the way Miles speaks about the isolated experiences has him questioning what kind of girl his nephew was actually dating.

“You know what’s crazy, though, Tio?” The younger poses, pulling the handle to the passenger car door when he hears the click, signifying Aaron unlocking the vehicle finally. “She’s not clingy like that; it’s somethin’ else.”

“You’re losin’ me, kid.” The older chuckles, closing his door once he’s settled inside the driver's seat.

Miles sucks his teeth, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in thought, and Aaron can tell that the younger is trying to find the right words to distinguish what he means.

“I hear guys say that shit like that is annoying,” Miles begins, tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it down from riding up his toned stomach, “but it ain’t like that to me. She asks me all these things; think maybe it’s because she feels safe enough to ask them of me. And if she feel like I got the answers for her, then-”

The younger stops mid-sentence, contemplating how to proceed with his explanation. Yet, Aaron is all ears, listening intently. Quite frankly, it’s the most he’s heard Miles talk about anything in a long time - his rambling reminds him of the old Miles that once was, before the unfortunate.

Then, the younger takes a deep breath, reclines back into his seat, legs spread in the slightest for comfortability, his hands running the length of his thighs, “Ionno, Unc. Makes me feel good, I guess.”

And in that moment, Aaron’s vision blurs for a second. He can’t tell if it’s Miles sitting in the passenger seat, or if it’s his late brother. Perhaps it's the glare of the sun in his eyes…perhaps it’s Aaron actually seeing the soul of Jefferson shine through his son in the early morning sunlight that dances across his melanated skin.

A hum passes through the older’s throat as he starts the car up, the sound of the engine revving through the silence that settled within the car. Aaron clears his throat before speaking again, “I’ma tell you what I told your pops about your moms, kid.”

Miles turns his head from the window to face his uncle, who shifts the car from parked to drive, hand sitting at the top of the steering wheel. 

“If she make you feel good, the kinda good you know you can’t get anywhere else, and if she make you feel like a man; you keep her close.” Aaron hums. His lips tug upwards when the younger gives a subtle nod in return.

“I’m serious now, Miles. Don’t be like yo’ daddy.” Aaron reiterates as he pulls his foot off the brakes, turning the steering wheel and pressing down on the gas to drive out of the parking lot. “Dumbass almost lost ya moms cuz he ain’t wanna listen-”

“A’ight, a’ight, I got you,” the younger replies, “I’on think she goin’ anywhere no way, though.”

“Good.” Aaron affirms. “If she know of the kinda game you in, then she need to know how to work somethin’, too. Make sure she can hold you down properly.”

“I’on know about that, Unc,” Miles replies, “she too much of a good girl for that.”

“Shit, good girls work the best poles, boy. Don’t get the game twisted.”

“Unc, no one says ‘poles’ in reference to guns anymore.” The younger says through a chuckle as the two drive off down the street, the purples in the sky now fading into a pretty golden hue that casts over the city that never sleeps.

[vhstown]

ain't no love; pt. 2

"ain't no love in the heart of town"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, and the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 →

chapter summary: [MILES POV] Miles thinks there's something sinister going on at Visions. But first, he has to ask you out — to a job fair.

content/warnings: mentions of food/hunger, implied kidnapping, use of drugs (not by miles or reader) and there are some word meanings at the end!

word count: 4.7k

a/n: never thought id make it this far. 2/4 yo! thank you @qiupachups for proofreading 🙏 my g fr

“Take your headphones out.”

“~Ain’t no love… in the hear–”

Miles slipped his earbud out before putting his hand into his pocket again; it’d go back in once he left the counsellor’s office anyhow. First, he had to deal with the woman in front of him — Ms. Weber, the woman he’d been avoiding all week.

“Why didn’t you come to see me yesterday?” The woman peered at him through her red-framed glasses. Her disapproving gaze was one Miles was yet to get used to.

“Had to uh, see a teacher.” Her gaze became more disbelieving than disapproving. It was true, though, his calc teacher wasn’t the only faculty member he seemed to be annoying today.

“Right, and they didn’t tell you to take out your headphones?” The woman leaned over on her desk much like Mr. Wellston had, except it actually had the intended effect, like he was talking to his mother; Miles fumbled a bit with the earbud in his pocket. “We need to discuss your extracurriculars.”

“Do I need extracurriculars? I mean, I kinda already got some.”

“Such as?”

“An extra calc class. And Spanish catch-up. And English—”

“Something that isn’t to do with your academics, Miles — hence extra-curricular. College applications are right around the corner.”

“I’m doin’ fine right now,” he shrugged. Weber didn’t look very impressed.

“If you wanna go out of state, "fine" isn’t enough. You’re not the only kid applying.”

“Not like I said that.” He leaned back, making his chair creak loudly.

Talking to Ms. Weber felt like a chore. Sure, she had his best interest at heart, but she’d never know the half of it. His cooperativeness was running thin as the ache in his muscles worsened — if only Aaron didn’t make him get so serious all of a sudden. Miles couldn't listen to everyone, he guessed.

The woman leaned forward, tilting her head, maybe for emphasis. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Miles.”

Leaning back wasn’t helping with the soreness, or Ms. Weber. “Not if there was no cake to begin with.”

She let out a breath, a more civil version of the loud sigh building up in Miles’ lungs. “How about this? You try your hand at some volunteering.”

“Volunteering?” He was already sure that he wouldn’t bother. He did plenty volunteering already — if illegal vigilantism counted.

“There’s a careers fair for freshmen soon. It’d look good on your application if you helped to organise.”

“Aren’t teachers supposed to do that?”

“I’m right in front of you.” Her tone was drier than his.

“You’re just a counsellor though—” Miles’ lips pressed together, Ms. Weber’s eyes narrowing at him. He didn’t want the same fate that guy had calling his mom “just a nurse”, but it came out before he could stop himself.

“The week after winter break,” she continued. Being a counsellor was less stressful than a nurse, it seemed.

Winter break was after this week — that was when he’d finally stop training for a little while. The week after was the job fair, and…

“So it’s just me that’s doin’ it?”

The counsellor contemplated for a moment, her own lips pursing. “You could ask someone to do it with you. One of your friends, maybe.”

Like he had one of those.

“Huh? What’d you say? Someone’s waiting? You got friends?”

“Miles, c’mon.”

Maybe he did.

“Yeah, fine — I’ll do it,” he muttered. Weber’s expression relaxed, as much as it could with that gruff air still about her.

“Okay, good. Just bring your friend here after school.” Miles simply nodded — now with another thing to think about. “You can go back to lunch.”

He got out of the chair, his hand already on the door handle before Weber spoke again.

“Well done on coming in, by the way.” Miles turned back for a moment, mumbling something like a thanks. He tried not to feel weird about the odd sincerity of her words as he walked through the hallways.

“~Ain’t no love, and in the heart of the city…”

Miles had a lot to think about in general, but only about 20 minutes to think about what he was going to say to you. He also thought about what he was going to eat later — maybe his mom made something. He hoped his uncle didn’t finish the stew. At least his stomach didn’t grumble… Miles tried not to smile, even if nobody was watching.

Though he wanted to talk to you outside of class, he never really had any excuse. The only reason he’d talked to you at all was because that Rafa asshole decided bothering Mrs. Hernandéz wasn’t enough. Miles wasn’t stupid, but Rafael had drawn a massive red target on his own back. It was a miracle that you decided to say something, for Miles and Rafael.

A little height difference wouldn’t make his ankles any harder to break. He half-shook away the thought. No need to get expelled when he had to be here for long enough to confirm his suspicions.

“He went missing, and now he’s teaching calculus at Visions?”

“Yup.”

“That’s my high school.”

“…Jeff did us a service with these files, huh man?”

And so Miles had gone to Mr. Wellston’s classroom with you. It only left him with more questions.

Wellston almost seemed askance when you two walked in together — he didn’t even mention Miles’ earbud. The man was reluctant to let Miles take the extra class with you, for some reason, but Miles could play dumb when he needed to. Something about the whole arrangement was off to him — like it had set off a sixth sense Miles didn’t have.

Really and truly, you were just some kid from his class that happened to be caught up in all of this. If he had a reason, he’d tell you to not go to that stupid class in the first place. He was probably a better tutor anyway — Wellston didn’t seem like the teacher type anyway.

But he was just some kid from your class too — Miles Morales. Gonzalo Morales, though he doubted you knew, or cared. Probably the only person who knew his middle name was his mom; she was always talking about it, his name — to be proud. He had his mother’s last name for a reason, one he never knew about until Aaron told him: keeping him away from crime — his dad’s side. If only she knew what he was up to now.

If only his dad knew what he was up to now.

Miles Gonzalo Morales — whoever that was, was sweating a little at the moment. That was walking quickly, not because he had to figure out what to say in the next 10 seconds. Talking to you? No big deal. He’d done it before… once.

Miles had talked to you once. This past week, all he’d learnt about you was your first name and the fact that you sucked at using your calculator.

Hunched over a textbook with a crumpled up juice box in your hand, Miles spotted you sitting by yourself in the corner of the cafeteria. It’d be an easy conversation: he could bring up the textbook and talk to you alone. The pang of embarrassment that shot through him said otherwise. You looked like you did in Spanish, quiet, focused, a little stressed — like the sketch of you that was crumpled up in his blazer pocket. In the sketch, you were facing away. Right now, your eyes were on him. Mier— (Shi—)

“Can you move?” Miles hastily stepped away, realising he was blocking the line. He tried not to catch the girl’s annoyed stare, and the many others, holding back his grimace and heading for your table.

He sat opposite you; the seat was cold, and he wished he’d brought his jacket. What if it looked like he was shaking, or something? This was stupid. It wasn’t that cold. Just ask, dumbass.

“Hey uh, pana.” Your eyes were on his again, and he tried to smile. “You studyin’?”.

“Trying to.” Gaze trailing back to the textbook, you closed it with a sigh he could only imagine with his music playing in-between the cafeteria noise.

The cover read “AP CALCULUS BC: 1st Edition” — he knew there were at least ten revisions. Maybe you liked collecting old textbooks like he did old comics — that’d be stupid.

“Still don’t know how you got six.” He took out his earphone, before realising what you meant.

“Litres per hour,” he corrected, immediately feeling like punching himself for it. “Could explain it… if you want.” The cold plastic cafeteria bench dug into his palm as his grip on it tightened. Miles Morales — Brooklyn’s only vigilante, and now an AP Calc tutor

“Uh, sure.” You took out a pencil, which clattered far too loudly on the table. He watched you grit your teeth at the sound before giving him an expectant, somewhat unsure look. Miles took the pencil in his hand and started scribbling in the back page of the textbook, with you watching intently.

It was slightly warm, and wrote nicely — would probably draw nicely too. Not important. Just solve the damn thing.

“Why does this equal to the derivative, though?” you interrupted, pointing at the garble of letters and numbers. He had to hold back a sigh, like he wasn’t the one to offer you help. If there’s one thing he didn’t get from his mom, that was his patience — no wonder she was a nurse and he wasn’t a tutor.

“Cause if you take g of x as like, let’s say v or sumn’…” he murmured, brows knitting together as he scribbled out a couple more lines on the side. Rewriting the equation, he glanced at you occasionally, hoping you were getting it.

“Wait, wait, so…”

A flash of realisation came over your face before you abruptly took the pencil from his hand, making his jaw clench as your hand brushed his. You continued the line of working, explaining it to yourself while Miles gave quiet “yeah”s and nods.

“Then all of that should equal six.” The pencil dropped with a quiet thud, rolling onto the inside of the textbook. “Litres per hour,” you added quickly, giving him a meek smile.

“…Yeah. You got it.” Miles could only hold your gaze for a moment, until the eagerness in your eyes had dissipated, and the two of you were left staring at each other. The bend of his knees practically hooked around the seat as he reeled back, realising he’d been leaning over a little too close.

Miles cleared his throat, pushing the textbook back towards you. “You get it now?”

“Yeah.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up; maybe you were a little proud of yourself. All you needed was a little guidance — and he was able to make you understand. He smiled — mentally, of course. Miles Morales — best AP Calc tutor in Brookly—

“Did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah actually, uh…”

Uhhhhhh…

“Uh…?” you repeated.

Miles held his breath; maybe some survival instinct would force him to spit it out. How was he supposed to say this?

“You free? In a couple weeks?”

“…Huh?” Your eyes widened. The cafeteria seemed to go silent.

Definitely not like that.

“Uh, like, for a… volunteer thing,” he corrected, hastily. The way he grit his teeth made his voice sound funny. Nice going, Morales. “I’m doing it. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Oh, um…” Your eyes narrowed in thought, as Miles recovered from un-asking you out. “Maybe? What’s it for?”

“Some job fair — for freshmen.” Your expression turned uncertain. Miles bit the inside of his lip so hard he thought he might split it

“Um…” The way your eyes narrowed was making doubt pool in his stomach. “You know what? Yeah, sure.”

“Really?” Yes, you idiot. “I mean, uh cool.”

“Cool…”

The cleaners were starting to wipe away at the tables. No wonder it seemed so silent — most people had left. “So what do I have to do?” you

“You gotta go to the counsellor’s office after school. We’re gonna uh, help organise and stuff.” He swallowed dry. As much as he didn’t want to be the kid that was always in the counsellor’s office, it wasn’t like he could avoid it. You didn’t ever mention it, but it’s not like anyone did outright.

“Okay,” you nodded simply, letting out a sigh and throwing the ancient textbook into your bag. Miles stood up after you, flexing his sore, bench-marked hand.

“Are you sure you wanna go to that calc class?” you asked, making him look up.

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice — but you didn’t know that. “If you go to that fair.”

You smiled again, probably at the situation — maybe at him.

“Deal. See you Friday.” You waved, and Miles let out a sigh as you walked away.

Being a vigilante was way easier than talking to people.

“~When you were mine, oh I was feeling so good…”

The rest of the day dragged on with the soft kick of bass and the hum of a guitar in his ear. The only thing Miles could think about was the fact that he had to meet you after school. The fact that you said yes surprised him. You were classmates, acquaintances at most — maybe you could actually live up to the “pana” thing.

“~Cause your love lit up, the whole neighbourhood…”

“Miles — question eight?” Miles lifted his head from the desk, staring at the question sheet for a moment.

“Uh… forty two thousand,” he guessed, eyes narrowing at Ms. Calleros in a mix of doubt and hope.

“Forty two thousand what?”

“Six… Litres per hour.”

“Lit— Joules,” he stuttered out.

“…Yeah. You got it.”

Damn it.

RIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIING! Miles was thinking about you too much, and thinking about AP Physics too little.

“Remember your homework due next week!” his teacher called out as everyone scrambled to pack up and leave.

Miles let himself sigh; it was one of many he wanted to let out today. He drew his hand away from the ear with his earbud in. At the same time, he locked eyes with his teacher. Mierda. (Shit.)

She gestured for him to come to her desk with a not-so entertained look on her face. Nothing new, he supposed.

“You know you can’t have your headphones in during class,” she started, glancing at his palm with the earbud in it.

It was faintly murmuring. Miles just awkwardly pressed the pause button.

“I know.”

“There seems to be a lot you know and don’t put into practice, Miles.” It was like every teacher was out to get him. Guess he wasn’t being as sneaky about the music as he thought.

“Sorry,” he offered, half-heartedly. Might as well get this over with.

“What were you listening to?” she asked, eyebrow lightly raised. “Apart from my lesson.”

“Uh… don’t know the name.”

“Are you sure? Because it’s been playing all class.” And since lunch — he hadn’t bothered to turn it off. He didn’t know it was that loud, though.

“I gotta to go to the counsellor’s office…” Miles said in a way that sounded more like a question. He pointed to the door like it would help.

“And I have to go to a meeting, but here I am.” She readjusted her glasses, looking at him curiously — maybe more knowingly.

“Is something wrong? You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

“Nah. Just tired today,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. There was an unconvincing beat of silence, before she unfolded her arms.

“…Well, I hope you feel more energetic soon.” Miles just nodded, making his way to the door.

Gracias a Dios… (Thank God.) She was leaving him alone.

“Oh, and good job on the quiz — one of the highest in this class.” Miles bit back the fleeting warmth in his cheeks, digging his hands further into his pockets.

“Thanks.”

Sometimes it was hard to remember that he wasn’t the Prowler all the time. Right know, he was just a kid: a kid who listened to his uncle’s favourite tracks and lived in a box with his mom in the city he called home — a city that was falling apart day by day.

“Miles!” That kid. That’s who he was — Miles Morales. And you were just you, jogging right behind him.

Stealing a glance of your expression — and hopefully nothing more — he kept ahead of you as the two of you walked to the counsellors office. Neither of you had anything to say, but Miles had so much to think about. You agreed to do the fair with him; maybe he shouldn’t have asked — he wasn’t here to make friends, after all. But you were here now, and he didn’t hesitate when he knocked on the door to the counsellors office.

“Come in!”

There was a screech of chairs as you two sat opposite the guidance counsellor, who was tapping away at her keyboard as usual. Miles’ eyes met yours for a brief second, and when you gave him a smile, he spent so long debating on whether or not to return it with his own that Ms. Weber had already placed a stack of freshly-printed papers on her desk.

“Firstly, you’re going to have to post these around school.” Miles looked at the obnoxiously modern and colourful posters, with “FRESHMAN CAREERS FAIR” in a dull font that was meant to look modern. He could probably make a better version himself, but he’d rather not spend any more time on the fair than he had to.

“I have a question,” you interrupted, straining to try and be polite. “Is this something I can put on my college application?”

“I’d assume so, since your friend is doing it for his,” Ms. Weber replied, glancing unassumingly at Miles through her red-framed glasses.

Like I wasn’t forced to. But you weren’t forced to. You chose to do this — for your… college application. Right.

“Okay, got it.” You nodded, letting Weber continue.

“Secondly, there’s a list of start-ups that will be here on the day. You should familiarise yourselves with them — you could find a useful connection.” Weber put a white piece of paper with some writing on top of the stack of posters.

“The ones that are highlighted are places we haven’t contacted yet.” There were only a few different businesses marked in yellow, one of which had “OSCORP” written next to it.

“Oscorp?” You seemed to notice too. Miles could only narrow his eyes.

“Their junior apprenticeship program starts soon” Weber explained, looking at Miles for a moment. “Maybe you should apply — especially you, Morales.”

Like Miles would ever work for Oscorp. They were the reason that his mom’s hospital was so underfunded. Unfortunately for him, he was supposed to pay them a visit anyway, regardless of how much he wanted to get into that tech school out of state.

“The fair’s going to be the Tuesday after winter break. Don’t forget.” She was looking more at Miles than you.

“Got it… Thank you, Ms…?” you trailed off, giving her a hopeful look.

She tapped sharply at the nameplate propped up on her desk. “Weber.”

“Ms. Weber,” you mirrored, nodding again and offering an awkward smile. “Thank you — we’ll try our best.

The two of you stepped out of the office, glancing at each other for a moment too long as you made it a couple of metres from the door.

“So uh…” you started. “Could I get your number?” …Huh?!

“Uh, I mean, like, so we can stay in contact,” you backtracked, trying not to grimace. “I mean, in case we need to talk over winter break.” He almost mirrored your grimace before nodding.

“Yeah, here.” Miles handed you his phone, careful to avoid brushing your hand this time before taking yours. He typed in his number, and then “Miles M.”

When he got his phone back, all you’d put in was your number. Without thinking, he typed in four letters: Pana. He slipped his phone in his pocket before he could question himself.

An extra class on Friday — with his pana. Miles could only rub his temples at the thought.

This whole school thing had gone farther than he’d hoped.

“As you exit, please be careful of the gap between the platform and the—”

Miles held back a grunt as people shoved past to leave the train carriage, eyes searching for you as he was practically being bounced around. If it wasn’t for Mr. Wellston’s useless rambling, he wouldn’t be going home on a Friday during rush hour, let alone on the last day before winter break.

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”

The top of your backpack peeked out and just as quickly disappeared as someone in office wear, and an enormous jacket, ploughed through right before the doors closed; he could hear your stumble.

“Cabrón… (Asshole…)” Miles muttered under his breath.

Truthfully, he’d passed his stop ages ago, but he wasn’t about to let you go home alone this late. He hadn’t even been this far down the line before, but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. Every night since you two went to the counsellor’s office, he’d been up, slinking through Brooklyn in his Prowler suit. People like you wouldn’t know, of course, but both Miles and his Uncle were picking up on things. With those dusty old police reports, the slew of missing people didn’t seem like much of a coincidence — and Miles didn’t think this “class” was one either.

In fact, Wellston himself didn’t seem like someone who was right to teach AP Calc. He certainly didn’t seem like the teacher type, and apart from that first class Miles had attended, all he really gave at this point were packs to do. And in that extra class of his, it was the exact same thing — except for that fact that he seemed to do everything to keep the two of you there.

“Are you sure you get it?” — “How did you get that number?” — “Where’s your calculator, Morales?”. Miles got you two out of there as fast as possible. At one point, he’d even written answers on your worksheet while Wellston wasn’t paying attention.

It was a hunch at most, but he’d always take his dad’s advice in stride, no matter how often he used to say it.

“Trust your gut, Miles.”

He wasn’t being over-protective, he was being cautious—

“What’s your problem, man?” Miles’ core tensed — like he’d done when training. He looked over to see you, and a total stranger.

“You got a place to be, huh? Can’t look where you’re goin’?”

Miles squeezed through a blockade of people to see you just standing there, unable to reply as a man blew up at you for seemingly no reason. The man’s words were getting progressively worse, his voice louder and his face so close to yours it made Miles cringe. The man’s eyes seemed to bulge out, but he wasn’t looking at you — or anything, really. He was clearly on drugs.

Miles was meant to get groceries for his mom. He kissed his teeth at the memory. Damn Wellston — and this guy.

The carriage was pretty much empty, being at the last few stops. Of course nobody cared when it came to stuff like this. Miles watched the veins in the man’s neck tighten, and his teeth were gritted together so hard it hurt to look at. He stopped his fist from clenching — he’d rather not start a fight with a junkie.

“Oy.” He put his hand on your shoulder, avoiding the man’s eyes. “Let’s get off here.”

“Wh—”

“Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” You two were out in about a second before the doors shut between you and the man, now violently knocking against the glass.

Holding onto your jacket, Miles kept you from falling as the train zipped past, the junkie long gone. He let out a sigh, eyes squeezing shut. This train station was stupidly bright.

“What was that for?” you asked, brows knitting together. “We could’ve just, I dunno, walked to a different carriage.”

“You serious?”

“The next train’s in…” Both of your eyes went to the screen, and you frowned. “20 minutes, Miles.”

“Well you would’ve had exactly zero minutes if that guy tried something.”

“Okay, that’s too far. There were other people—”

“They wouldn’t have done shit.” His annoyance only grew, and he couldn’t hold back when you were looking at him like that. “Where do you live? Cause it’s not Brooklyn — nobody gives a damn here.”

People were starting to look at you. “Are you gonna let go of my arm or what?”

Miles’ hand fell from your shoulder. He bit the inside of his cheek, his own heartbeat only muffled by the sound of the train approaching on the other platform.

“Do you really live that far?”

“Yes?” You said, almost incredulously. “Like, two stations away from here.”

“Then we’re walking.”

Your head snapped back to look at him. “Seriously?”

“You want me to leave you here?”

It came out more like a threat than a question. The realisation made Miles’ eye twitch, but that only served to make him look more pissed.

“Go on,” you replied, your expression lacking any conviction.

“Cabezón…” he muttered to himself, before turning to walk to the exit.

“What was that?”

Miles kept walking, and the sound of your footsteps a couple seconds later made him breath a sigh of relief. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he was almost certain someone was watching you back there.

When you both got to the gates, he waited before pulling you through the emergency exit with him. Despite your protest, you followed him through it, blending into the crowd of people leaving and entering the station. Metro cards were a waste of money anyway.

It was a long, silent and somewhat unsettling walk. Miles had been through every corner of Brooklyn, and right here was about where he’d start looking behind his back, even as the Prowler. For some reason, you just had to live a light year away from school and in one of the worst neighbourhoods in this damned concrete jungle.

Despite the regret building in his stomach from how he’d talked to you, he was forcing more rational concerns into his head: the turns you were taking, the people they passed, how close he should stay to you. All of it was habitual at this point, but he couldn’t risk being caught off-guard, especially when every adult man you passed was starting to look a bit too much like Wellston. If you were closer, maybe he could’ve kept an arm around you, or something. Good thing his mom wasn’t here to beat his ass for thinking like an idiot.

Trying not to imagine his mom’s voice, Miles kept just a few inches behind you, right until you reached the front door.

“…Thanks.” He couldn’t read your expression — when was the last time he overthought something?

“Don’t worry about it.”

There was another beat of silence, interrupted only by the “beep!” of your electronic key fob at the door.

“See you.” Your voice echoed through the hall, followed by footsteps as the door slowly shut in front of him. “Be safe.”

Like he needed to be told that. “…You too.”

Miles lingered by the door, looking at you for a moment longer before he forced himself to turn away. Almost immediately after, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket — Uncle Aaron.

42nd street

Special delivery for your ma

A supply interception — his mom’s hospital was probably short by now. Miles squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away the exhaustion before replying.

omw Delivered

His day hadn’t ended yet — not by a long shot. The Prowler was always on the clock.

pana = casual term used to refer to friends, means "buddy" or "pal" (used in puerto rico, venezuela etc)

cabezón = means "stubborn" or "big-headed"

from here on out it's just straight up drafting cause i wrote part 1 and 2 ages ago but i don't have anything for part 3 and 4 so !!!!

upload schedule if you didn't know is gonna be: this series one week and then a random one shot the next week (so hopefully ill post part 3 in around 2 weeks? im DROWNING in school work atm so don't hope too hard...) anyways have a good one ^^

reblogs appreciated as always <3 go back to the series masterlist here or go to my atsv masterlist here!

[mintkookiess]

It's you?!

A/N: Craving more 42!Miles screen time. Better yet, I want him to have an entire goddamn film.

Another post from the private vault! hope y'all like this one as much as I did! (｡･･｡)

Love,

Mint

Summary: 42!Miles and his weird ass obsession on finding out Spiderwoman!reader's real identity (and vice versa, but less obsessive LMAO she just curious)

Tags: 42!Miles x Spiderwoman!reader, some cussing, choking (not that kind) enemies -> friends

Word count: 2.3k

The Prowler had a sick grin behind his mask as he stared at the woman standing a few feet away from him. It was almost laughable to him how she could stand for all the heroic shit, even her suit looked downright ridiculous. “You’re a brave one to try to stop me, I’ll give you that.” He laughed with his voice slightly distorted from the voice changer. “But I hate to break it to you ma, I’m going to remind you where you belong, to make you remember your fucking place.”

Though deep down he knew that he always looked forward to their fights and banters. Sure, he’s handled a bunch of big enemies and may have been beaten to a pulp once or twice, but nothing makes him feel more alive than fighting the one and only Spiderwoman. Little does he know that he’s slowly garnering some sort of obsession over finding out who she was. 

He was itching to know what kind of person this woman was who had the actual capabilities of making him excited and thrilled over fighting, something he grew to hate. 

"Yeah, I will. Since my place will always be above you." Y/n replied coolly behind her mask. As Spiderwoman, she is obligated to eradicate all evils in Brooklyn, but this Prowler dude always made it interesting for her. And today was just like their usual encounters. 

Sometimes, she admits that she wants to know who he was beneath all that tacky suit. Like why does he look like fucking Dracula? 

I hate that fucking mask. Miles thought as he scowls down at the hero. All he wanted was to rip the mask off of her head and finally see her face. He couldn't exactly understand his undying obsession with finding out. Like, why her of all heroes?

He growled in frustration with himself, clawed out his hand, and lunged at Y/n, ready to rip her apart. In response to this however, Y/n was quick enough to instantly shoot a web by a nearby building on their right, flinging herself towards it to dodge him. "Is that the best you got pretty boy?" She called out. 

"Pretty boy?" Miles raised an eyebrow behind his mask. He snarled, jumping off the ground to thrust towards her once more, this time using full force to try to pin her against the wall. He does this successfully, picking Y/n up by her throat. "Who are you?" Miles hissed, his claws retracting before digging his metal-covered fingers into her neck more. "Tell me, damn it."

Y/n kept her body calm and tried to maintain proper breathing despite being choked by him. "Spiderwoman, who else would I be?" She choked, her mind trying to find the best way possible to escape from his deadly grasp. 

"That's not what I meant," Miles glared, squeezing even tighter than before. His golden brown eyes slowly became wild in anger, almost as if something's taken over him. 

"Answer me properly, pretty girl," He seethed, his mask glitching slightly. Though he called her "pretty girl", he did so in such a mocking tone.

Miles dropped her to the ground but doesn't waste a second before pinning her against the wall with his arm over her head. With his height, he just easily towers over her.

The sight egged him on, the feeling of having Spider-Woman beneath him like this was exhilarating. 

"Who. Are. You."

"Someone who's... about to kick your goddamn ass." She murmured before her leg flew up to his arm, and with every force she could muster she kicked it down, making him lose balance. 

She shoots another web to the building on the opposite side, keeping a fair distance from the Prowler. "Why do you want to know me so badly?" She called out to him. 

"Because I want to know my enemy,” Miles yelled back, letting out a low growl as he rose to his feet and sped across to her once more. He lands back close to her, glaring at her with a slightly amused look. It's just a game to him after all. A game of cat and mouse and he was definitely not the mouse. 

"I'll stop at nothing until I found out who you are," He gritted through his teeth. "You won't get away that easily ma." 

Y/n only snorted at his words. "Oh yeah? I think I do a pretty great job at doing that pretty boy." She smirked behind her mask before instantly swinging away, leaving him.

But of course, Miles wasn't backing down, quickly chasing after her. "Who the fuck are you?!" He yelled loudly, but she doesn't answer. They both played chase across multiple buildings. Miles was determined not to lose her this time though, picking up his speed until he was practically at the same speed as her. 

This must be his new world record, Uncle Aaron would be damn proud. 

"I won't stop chasing you until I know." Y/n rolled her eyes at how persistent he was being. Miles wants to know who this hero was, and why she drove him insane with obsession, or how she got him looking forward to fighting her. 

"Well for starters, why the hell are you so obsessed with me? Honestly, don't you have better things to do?!" She called out as she continuously swung between buildings by her webs. Least to say though, Y/n was impressed that the Prowler could catch up at all. But then again, when has he ever failed to impress her?

"It's not an obsession," Miles denied, following close behind her. Even Y/n knew that wasn't the truth.

Miles is a villain. He kills. He maims. He hurts whomever he wants. But with her? Something just felt different. She's special, nothing like the rest of them. She has something he can't quite explain. Some sort of magnet that keeps him wanting to see her often? To fight her more than he does with the usual people he dealt with?

"Why do you keep running away ma?" He asked nonchalantly, but Miles knew he was just trying to keep her under his grasp for a bit longer. "You can fight. Why run?"

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Then let's fight pretty boy." She swung back around towards him, landing her foot on his torso, kicking him hard across the concrete before landing flawlessly on the ground. 

Miles grunts loudly and stumbles back, hitting a beaten-up car behind him. He looks up at her, glaring. "That's more like it ma," He leered, the sun creating shadows on his face, making him look even more intimidating.

He grunted as he stood up, getting close to her once again until he was merely inches away from her face. "You must tell me. You can't keep it from me." Miles grunted. His eyes were wild and insane as if he's lost control of... whatever he was feeling towards this Spiderwoman. 

"If I told you who I was, that defeats the entire anonymous persona thing I've got going." Y/n chuckled, placing a hand on her hip. Though she admits, she was also quite eager to know who Prowler was. Oh hell no, just curious.

"Tell me already!" Miles almost yelled, balling his hands into fists. He's getting angrier by the minute. At who exactly? He wasn't sure. Maybe he was mad at her because she was being stubborn, or mad at his behavior and the way he was acting right now.

But Miles doesn't care. He only cares about the fact that he's not getting the information he wants. 

He just wants to know who she was so badly so he could finally get over this achingly overwhelming curiosity.

"Tell me," Miles glowered once more, his voice dark and raspy. "I won't ask again." 

"You're asking me to tell my arch nemesis who I am behind this mask. You do realize how insane you sound right?" Y/n snickered. But suddenly, she was stricken with an idea. She quickly looked around, making sure no one was around them in the abandoned part of Brooklyn.

For once, she wanted to indulge in her curiosities as Spiderwoman. She grinned at him, even though he couldn't see it. "If you show me who you are, I'll show you who I am. Seems only fair right?"

"Fine," Miles grunted, uncurling his fists. He was a bit surprised at how easy it was for him to agree, despite knowing full well he shouldn't show who he was much less to the person who's been hunting him down for months.

"Show me first. Then I'll let you know who I am." His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he meets her stare. "After all, it is only fair ma."

Y/n laughed, nodding in agreement. "Fine, if we're playing fair, then we should just do it together at the same time." 

Prowler let out a harsh breath and nodded. 

"On the count of three,” Y/n said, her finger gripping the edge of her mask. 

"1..."

"2..."

"3...!"

As Y/n pulled out her mask, the Prowler does the same, his Prowler mask moving back to reveal himself as Miles Morales. 

Y/n's hair fell down, her e/c eyes striking with excitement as she stared back into his. Her lips instantly curved into a smile as she sees an all-too-familiar face before her. "You're that student from school!" 

Miles blinked. "What—" He stopped himself mid-sentence as it finally hits him. It's her. It's always been her. 

His eyes flash with shock, pupils widening to the point where his eyes almost appeared black. The woman that he's been obsessing over, was Y/n. Y/n L/n.

Miles would see her often in class and everywhere else on campus. He has never spoken a word to her, but she slightly grabbed his attention because she was the complete opposite of him. That and because she was obnoxiously loud.

He simply knew her as that friendly, too-nice, pure girl. Definitely did not assume that she'd be Spider-Woman.

"You're that quiet dude from physics and math class!" Y/n gushed even further. "I wasn't expecting it to be you but, that makes so much sense with your mysterious aura and vibe, holy shit."

Y/n was internally screaming inside because she did notice Miles Morales from her school. She thought he was crazy attractive with the stoic and cold demeanor he had going on, especially those goddamn braids of his.

And now here she was, finding out that he was in fact, the Prowler whom she's been fighting for months on end. 

"Y/n..." Miles breathed out. As he processed the woman before him, he started to think about how she was beautiful, far more than he could've ever imagined. He barely looks at her at school, but now he's finally got a good look.

Her smile sent unexpected fluttering to his heart and it was difficult for him to look away. He had to snap himself out of it. Y/n isn't just Y/n. She's Spider-Woman. Who knows of his identity.

Miles licked his lips forgetting all of that in a second. His eyes were still wild but now supported by a little glint. A spark perhaps. Somehow, seeing Y/n and realizing she's Spider-Woman made him feel weird. Good weird. But weird. 

"Well, what do you think? Overwhelmed? Underwhelmed? Rate the experience from 1 to 10, be honest." Y/n smirked, her eyebrows raised and arms crossed over her Spider-Woman suit. 

"You fucking weirdo,” Miles smirked. 

"Would you look at that, the infamous Miles Morales actually knows how to smile,” Y/n replied, clearly amused. 

She was definitely not screaming inside. 

"What can I say ma?" He replied with a smirk, "You bring out the best in me." He found himself teasing her. How interesting.

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes at him. "Ha ha, I wasn't expecting the Prowler to be this cheesy either." 

"I wasn't expecting Spider-Woman to be this beautiful either, so I guess we're both in quite a predicament,” Miles said with a slightly flirty tone. The situation was becoming less tense and more playful between them. 

It was as if Miles had become a different person, being less like the ruthless villain Prowler, and more like himself as Miles Morales. It's a refreshing feeling to him.

"Well thank you, does that mean you've always noticed me from school?" Y/n smiled, placing her hands on her back, and swayed side to side like a child.  

"I noticed you alright.” He chuckled. Miles was still in disbelief with himself since he never showed such emotion to anyone. Ever. But here he was laying himself out to this girl who he barely even knows.

"I thought about talking to you. Usually to tell you to shut up cause you're always so damn loud." He told her. "But then I got too much shit on my mind. You know what it's like as the Prowler."

Y/n simply nodded, "That's fair. I myself am pretty busy cause well... I am Spiderwoman, constantly thinking of how to save the city." She winked. 

"You're busy as Spider-Woman," Miles repeated. "And I'm busy as the Prowler." He grinned at her. "We have that in common, don't we?"

"Except for the fact that we are destined to be enemies." Y/n grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. "But you know, maybe we can be friends."

Her? Being friends with him? What is she even saying... as if he'd actually agree—

Miles cocked an eyebrow. "Friends huh? Maybe we should try it sometime." He grinned, but he stopped himself, almost as if what he said wasn't meant to be said at all. He cleared his throat, "Well, we aren't enemies right now, are we?"

Y/n contemplated for a while, "Hmm... Maybe enemies as Spider-Woman and the Prowler, but we can be friends as Y/n and Miles." She winked, holding out her hand for him to shake. 

Without a second thought, Miles grabbed her hand and shook it firmly. "Deal." He replied with a smirk. "Friends." And he's serious about it too. All they both thought of at the moment was,

Damn, this is going to be one interesting pair.

Fin.

More of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

[qiupachups]

miles.g / wiles

.｡.+*☆ headcannons 👾💭

contents: general hcs, mention of his father’s death, i call 42-miles ‘wiles’, me sorta bullying him

a/n: after a lot of procrastination and harassment gentle encouragement from @vhstown i’m finally posting my hcs. :3c (they’ve been sitting here since july)

Despite his tough guy exterior and criminal career, he's actually a massive nerd geek. Like: gundham, comics, posters all over his room.

Until you bring up those interests, he won't mention them. But once you start a conversation about them, he can tell you all the lore front to back or tell you where and when each collectible is from. Just listening to Wiles and nodding along will make his day.

Accepting help from others is not an option. Ever. He's an overly D.I.Y guy since his father's death and it's staying that way.

... unless you're very close to him. Wiles will begrudgingly accept your help and then be adamant on repaying you. No matter how trivial it was, he'll show his gratitude through service.

Wiles has great memory and knows all the lyrics to his favourite songs. Go through his playlist and pick something at random- he'll recite them flawlessly!

A good memory also helps with remembering those flashes of songs playing on your lock screen. Just a split second glance? He's adding it to his playlist, maybe listening to it as he works on his latest gear.

Would be a straight A student if he were there half the time. The only thing keeping his total grades down is attendance, where he’s often absent.

However, if he’s in a group project with you, Wiles will put more effort into it. Getting a ‘C’ or GPA point lower is fine if it means keeping Brooklyn safer. What’s not fine is him being the reason for your lower marks.

Unlike his counterpart from 1610, Wiles’ art is more realistic. He tries to capture the subjects’ essence quickly and minimally, so colours are an afterthought.

Accuracy was his pride in art until it came to you. He’d be so nervous in getting your smile right, scribbling failed attempts over and over again. Wiles even resorted to a pencil sketch.

Following the passing of Jefferson, Wiles has gotten much closer to Rio. That’s a no brainer; he was fourteen— a kid. And Jefferson never got to see his son in that overpriced Visions uniform.

Wiles makes an effort to speak more Spanish. He lets his mamí braid his hair even if it hurts like hell. Those stupid telenovelas aren’t that bad on the second watch.

Once upon a time, Wiles used to be a choir boy (keyword: used). He’d love singing hymns and doing nativities before he could read; all for his mamí and dad to see.

However, the christmas after Jefferson’s passing felt… empty. Wiles quickly lost his passion for choir and now just attends mass with Rio at most.

After years of experience being a choir boy, Wiles has the voice of an angel. Not that you’d know, of course— he intends to take that to the grave. But there’s also a deeper, darker secret… he can’t rap to save his life.

An extremely personal and harrowing Musically comment told him so. Following that attack, twelve year old Wiles abandoned his account with only a black profile picture left behind.

Like any other middle schooler, Wiles had a hype beast phase (he denies it). When Aaron got a Hype shirt for Wiles’ 12th birthday, words couldn’t describe how he almost knocked Aaron down with a hug.

The shirt’s first stain had Wiles distraught and furiously searching ‘remove paint on shirt hacks’ on Youtube. His heart would probably stop if he misplaced a gift from you.

Wiles isn’t the best cook, but he can definitely make himself a good meal. With Rio working night shifts and Uncle Aaron doing… jobs, he has to be self-sufficient.

A secret lil’ side project: he’s trying and failing to replicate Jefferson’s mac ‘n cheese. It wasn’t the best, but it was his. Something’s always off when Wiles makes it and he’s not quite sure what.

Sure, cooking isn’t that hard, but baking is like wizardry to Wiles. AP Chemistry and it’s endless calculations felt way easier than making pan de agua with his mamí.

But, mamí didn’t raise no quitter! On a particularly busy birthday, Wiles pulled together a modest little cake for Rio. She burst into tears seeing the shaky ‘!Feliz Cumple!’ written in too-sweet icing.

Calling Earth-42 a wreck is a massive understatement. Shit’s like Gotham, only very real and very deadly. Just breathing in that damn city air makes Wiles’ skin crawl.

Luckily, he’s got an outlet: boxing. A fun hobby he picked up from Uncle Aaron became his release. Wiles might never be in the ring, but Brooklyn’s more than enough.

a/n #2: what the fuck. this was supposed to be short and silly and fun. exsqueeze me how did this… erm. disjointed mess.

[mileshobiehobiemiles]

Text imagines with 42!Miles x reader Part 2

[1lenii]

The Ride⚠️

E!42!miles x F!reader

Who doesn’t love a good Miles fic (@everyothermileswriter love ya)

Ntm to say on this one tbh, except that this was my experience learning, when I was with my bsf😭

No warnings ⚠️ that I know off—

Anywys enjoy lovlies⭐️

****************************************************

“Diablo mami..!” Miles groaned

(Y/N) was shaking from the adrenaline, sweat beads forming on both of their foreheads

(Y/N) speeds up the pace

“Ma, I’m gonna—“

(Y/N) slows down her pace on the motorcycle, ultimately coming to a stop in front of a connivence store

Miles quickly gets off, knees buckling as he kiss the ground in front of him, almost of the verge of throwing up from the dizziness

“Don’t exaggerate babe, I wasn’t THAT bad” (Y/N) says through the helmet, waving him off dismissively

“Tú seguiste, en una luz roja.” He deadpanned, still on the floor (you ran a red light)

Sighing, (Y/N) gets off the motorcycle taking the key out of the ignition

(Y/N) clicks a button on the helmet now being able to see the neon world that is New York

Taking a few steps to her lover, offering a hand to to Miles in invitation to get to which he takes

“I mean YOU did teach me, didn’t you?”

“Oka? But that’s me. I can’t have my pretty girl doing delinquent shit” Miles says rubbing his thumb over the still intertwined hands below

“Hypocrite” (Y/N) mumbles softly letting go, going ahead into the store.

Miles light feet tracing behind her<3

****************************************************

⚠️⚠️Should I make a part 2/sequel to miles teaching her how to maneuver such a heavy vehicle🧍🏽‍♀️🧍🏽‍♀️

BTWWWW This was never meant to b sexual, dirty minds smh :p

[rizatouchesthewalls]

everyone who writes and supports miles smut can block me, that includes 42 btw.

PLEASE SHARE THIS TO ANYONE WHO SUPPORTS AGED UP MINORS (SPECIFICALLY MILES MORALES)

TW: BELOW THE CUT IS DISCUSSION OF P//DO, UNDERAGE CONTENT. (I don’t go too far into detail but I know some people have been affected by it).

elaboration on why aging up (for sexual purposes) is bad

miles is canonically 15 and dont even pull that “he’s aged up” shit with me cause you know damn well on aged up fanfics they use pictures of CANON MILES. so its pretty obvious u have the teen in your mind. and you know what the ones that are around his age are annoying too but it doesnt put nearly of a bad taste in my mouth as the GROWN ASS ADULTS who make that shit.

and btw dont go and say “oh, it’s hormones and plus miles has hormones” and to that i have to say:

1. if you are a child who likes miles like that, fine, deal with that shit in private tho. you posting s*xual content of a minor is catering to creepy adults online

2. if you’re an adult saying that shit then i can say nothing less that you have the mindset of a groomer. You’re not very far from the mfs who say that “teenage girls are at their ripe age at 16.” you as an adult SHOULD NOT be using teenagers having hormones to your advantage and excuse. That’s disgusting.

“they’re just a fictional character��� 😟 can you get a grip? go outside. Miles is a fictional character who is BUILT and DESIGNED to look like a teenager. And astv aint that unrealistic that you can say he’s ambiguous. He’s not. And even if he was he does activities that I do as a teen—I go to high school, I’m nervous about my future—miles is literally a relatable teen, as he was designed to be.

“Then stop looking for the smut posts.” I DONT NEED TO! It infiltrates my ASTV tag and at times the Hobie Brown tags too. You act like your tags aren’t public. If someone wanted to read a Miles fic that was normal fluff they would have to scroll through some smut too!

anyway thats all and dont even both coming up in my comments and reposts throwing a hissy fit you niggas r weird asf and can block me. maybe then id see less weird shit on my tag page. do us all a favor and log off.

+ Update: His ages from any other media isn’t a valid excuse. If you were clearly writing for canon adult miles you wouldn’t have astv miles as the icons and astv as the tag.

+ Update: Miles is CANONICALLY 15 in the first movie, and somewhere in the last movie he was YOUNGER. As mentioned above, mentioning other media as an excuse is bs when in the movies your writing for (itsv, atsv) he’s clearly a minor.

+ The thing that pisses me off the most is how ya’ll act like the people who are uncomfortable are weird. Are you not writing s*xual content about a 15 year old on a daily basis? please.

+ Fiction DOES affect reality. Why do you think people have nightmares after horror? Why does a sad film make people cry? Why does a deep movie change perspective?

+ In the scene where Miles argues with his parents, he says something along the lines of “I’m 15!!!” So if you think he’s not underage, you either didn’t pay attention or don’t have google. Plus what 18 year old discusses college that late? (without any other discussions prior?)

+ if you like little boys stop tryna hide that you like little boys it makes you even more manipulative and gross. no but in all seriousness telling minors that behavior is okay has gotta be SOME form of grooming on a more subtle scale. sorry if that’s too bold for ya’ll but as someone who’s been tricked into thinking content like this was okay when I was younger, I can confirm that this isn’t okay.

+ If to prove character that’s canonically a minor isn’t one you have to pull up seven different source materials that barely correlate to the one you write for, that character is still a fucking minor! It’s giving “she’s actually 3000!!!” when she looks 8.

yeah. kay bye!!!

[sweetheartspider]

Texts with Earth!42 Miles <33

(he's the loml)

when ur mad at him

typos and chaos

others <33

[hobiebrownismygod]

Do you know any e-42! miles morales x reader fanfics similar to yours ?

hmm I do know some accounts that make some great e-42 miles fanfics but I don't think there are any that similar to mine idk

but to get started I'd recommend the following

@kyngjaice --> heart wrenching mm fanfics :(( @teatoptony --> really cute MJ au that lowkey broke my heart when first reading it @daydreaming-en-pointe & @vhstown --> each have made a few but not centered around 42!Miles (gotta give my awesome ff mutuals shoutouts tho)

Sorry if I forgot anyone who writes 42! miles fics or has a 42 centered account. Feel free to comment under if I forgot you and I'll add you asap. I just can't remember all the people who's fics I love on the spot 😭

As for fanfics these are some of the ones I like the most!!

For All The Mary Janes Wear My Love Princess of New York 3AM Frights

These are just a few that were on my dash recently, but if I find more that I like I will definitely reblog them so you'll end up seeing them on your dash if you follow me

But also, the way I write Miles is just my own perception of his character. They're all headcanons. For this reason, theres not gonna be a lot of fics super similar to mine. But if you are looking for things with the same gist I recommend these accounts and stories first!

Keep in mind that my requests are always open so if you ever want to see a 42Miles story and you want it to be in my style, just let me know! I try to get to all my requests as quickly as possible <3

Sorry for the long post but lastly there was one fic I really enjoyed on Wattpad called "You've Changed". I think its one of the best Miles Morales fics I've read and I absolutely love it and recommend it to you!

Hopefully this helps anon :)

[lady-ashfade]

Don’t Speak, Don’t Hide, Don’t Scream.

Yandere!E-42!Miles morales x Fem!Reader

You know I’m a yandere page, so I had to do it with the man himself. Dudes screams yandere vibes to me, and I know everyone else.

Disclaimer: I used google translate- I could have asked my mom but I’m not doing that. So I’m sorry if I get anything wrong.

Short/Drabble.

Warnings: Kidnapping/Being kidnapped, Obsession, Yandere Tendencies, poor Spanish.

“Don’t hide mi amor,” his silk words sent shivers down your spine. You held a hand over your mouth hoping he couldn’t hear you from the closet. You had tried to run out but you had no time. “I just brought you flowers.” He hummed and looked over the room with a grip of the bouquet of your favorite colors flowers. His mask looked over the room for your figure and when his eyes ran across the door to the closet. He had found you.

A smirk tugged at his lips while still stared ahead, “Come out Muñeca.” He demanded with a cold tone showing he had almost had enough of your games. It was pitiful how you thought you could hind from him, or was it just a game? “I wouldn’t be mad, just come out now.” You watched in fear as he threw out a hand and the claws of his gloves bursted through.

Your throat went dry as you ran over possibility that could come out of it. Would he hurt you? He had shown aggression before, but you hadn’t don’t much. The best outcome was to come out before you made him angrier, so you pushed open the door with shaky legs and walked out. He sighed in relief and shut down his mask and took a look at you.

He walked forward and noticed your hesitation and fear. It pained him deeply. “I wouldn’t hurt you Muñeca.” His tone softed but you still didn’t believe a word he said. The flowers were pushed into your view on the floor and it made you look at him where he grinned proudly. Still darkly. “Take them.” It took all your strength to reach up your arm and take the flowers from his hands. You were too scared to move.

“Di gracias.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and tried to calm your heart beat. “T-Thank you.” He smirked at you and steps closer, “Good girl.” His hand patted your head. You took a step back to get away but he was quick to stop you by grabbing ahold of your hips. “Where do you think your going?” His tone darkened like the grip on your skin.

You whimpered at the pain and fear, “Let me go.” You pleaded and tried to move out of his grip. The sound of his laughter made your stomach twisted up. “Mi amor, I can’t do such a thing.” Your body was pulled closer then before and you could feel the heat coming from his suit. Tears rolled down from your eyes cooled the hot sensation on your cheeks. “Let me go.” You sobbed.

His eyes looked at you like he be pitied you, “Don’t cry, you know I hate it when you cry.” He leaned closer and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“You’ll be safe with me for, Mija.”

[liyawritesss]

YOUR EARTH 42 MILES FIC WAS SO FUCKING GOOD OMFG👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾 of your taking requests can you write about how prowler miles met his girl and how he rizzed her up please? Only if you want to of course and again I only read one thing by you but your writing got me hooked!!!!

ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪꜱ ɪ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴠɪɴ' ʏᴏᴜ

Characters: Spiderverse!Earth-42!Miles Morales x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 3.7k

Synopsis: The sequel to i really like what you’ve done to me, Miles reflects on his first encounter with you, and how he immediately made it his mission to make you his.

Warnings: Cursing….thats about it, I think

A/N: This was a long one in the making and I think I actually like my characterization of 42!miles here. I didn’t wanna make him overly edgy or overly hood or anything, and I hope that you guys will appreciate the subtlety of his personality here. Hope you all enjoy!

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @queenofthespiderverse @onlyperc @starsoirees @yasminisbroke @asensitivecookie @kdyance @sussybaka10 @famedrs-blog @milesismyhubby @foreclosure--of--a--dream

Sign Up For My Taglist Here

Miles remembers the day he first talked to you so clearly. It was almost as if it were yesterday. 

The middle of the semester had always been prime time for teachers to start assigning end of semester projects, and while Miles was lucky enough for majority of his classes to have only assigned him individual projects, there was always one class that such a fortune was never the case in. 

When the teacher was calling out pairs there was a part of Miles that dreaded who his partner would be. He hoped it wasn't a slacker - he'd had his fair share of irritation and headache from those types of students who never took their schooling seriously. Then again, he didn't necessarily have to, either, considering his uncensored brilliance already, but at least he still made an effort to look like he made an effort. Others didn't have the same sentiment.

He didn't know  most of his classmates personally, but knew the ones he needed to know by name and face; due to previous instances of being paired with them for projects in this same fashion. The fact that most of his old project partners were consistently placed in the same classes as him reinforced the begrudging familiarity that came with them. Though there were a few select people out of that circle that he'd found himself knowing of due to other circumstances - clumsiness in the halls, points of contact for school activities, etc. 

So when the teacher called Miles' name and the name of his partner, it wasn't a surprise to himself when his head turned to the side to look for them. What did surprise him, however, was when he turned to the seat next to him, only to have found it empty. 

He can't recall if he's ever seen the seat empty since he's been in this class, missing the presence of the person who he deemed to be a good student. Always on time, always exact; work turned in, always complete, and always paying attention to the lectures. Their own interactions were limited to the passing of worksheets,  exchanges of pencils and the occasional conversations of how irritating the teacher was being.

Miles wouldn't consider the shared interactions to be that one friendship - it was more akin to general acquaintanceship. Though, deciphering her character from said limited interactions, he knew that this was not in normal behavior for the girl. Eyebrows furrowed at the lack of her presence, questioning where she could have been.

Since his partner wasn't there, Miles had been left with a brainstorming worksheet to fill out on his own, but his mind was not on the project. He found himself still wondering about his partner's whereabouts. He could have sworn he'd seen her that day, walking the halls with the same two girls she'd been friends with since the school year started. While the same two girls were in class, having been paired together for the project, the missing girl wasn't. So, when the ring of the bell sounded, signaling the end of the day, Miles knew what his first course of action was to be.

"Aye, yo," his voice carries over to the two girls who'd been packing their supplies up, ready to begin their after school activities of sneaking off campus to go to the mall, "where yo' friend at?"

The first girl, with soft locs pulls into a high pony and shiny lip gloss adorning her lips, who he knew by the name of Key, scrunched her face in a grimace

 "What's it to you, boy?" She says chastely, giving him a quick once over.

"C'mon, nah," Miles presses, "y'all know she my partner for this stupid project. I'm just tryna get this shit over with, a'ight?"

The other friend answers next - one of his ex-project partners Taji - her chin resting in her hand, fingers decorated with matte brown coffin shaped nails resting against her cheek. "We ain't seen her since lunch. Said she was gon' go to her locker for sumn' but ain't never come back to the table."

Miles' brow arches, as if quizzing her answer, trying to determine the validity of it. Taji catches onto this, and shoots a similar expression back to him.

"What, you thinkin' I'm lyin' to you, nigga?"

"Are you, Taj?"

"Boy, what I got to lie to you for?"

Taji and Miles had a similar acquaintanceship to that of him and (Y/N), with the former being his partner for a project for their shared arts class in their sophomore year. She was a talented artist, not to mention the one person able to reawaken his love for art, even if it was to a small degree. 

"A'ight, whatever, y'all ain't no help."

He let out a sigh, dismissing the girls’ seemingly secretive antics with a wave of his hand, before tucking the same one in his pocket, preparing to leave the classroom. He didn’t have time to entertain the two girls before him, and believed it best to leave them be and return to his dorm room to figure out the project on his own.

“Check the rooftops,” Miles heard Taji say as half of his body begins to cross the threshold of the classroom door. It makes the boy stop in his tracks, turning his head back to see the two girls as they stand as well, gathering their belongings to leave for the day as well, “or somewhere around there.”

“The rooftops are locked, dummy,” Miles corrects, “janitors here ain’t that lazy and ignorant.”

“Oh, so you weren’t just up there a week ago?” Taji replies back, a tinge of tease in her voice, knowing she’s caught him red handed when a small bulge forms on his cheek. 

“Yeah, nigga, tighten up, cuz you lackin’.”

“Shut up, big head.”

The faint echo of snickering lingers as Miles leaves the classroom, heavy footsteps carrying him down the hall to the maintenance door that leads to the rooftops. 

It’s a routine he’s done many times before, the muscle memory set into motion the second he sees the custodian cart next to the doorway, with the clip of keys attached to the lanyard hanging off the side handle. Expert fingers grab hold of the clip and slide off the first bronze colored key distinguishable for all the maintenance doors in the building - including the rooftop door. Before the custodian exits the bathroom situated next to the maintenance door, Miles is long gone and heads up the next three flights of stairs to reach the navy blue metal door to the school's rooftop. 

Miles had become well acquainted with the rooftop of Visions Academy. After the death of his father, he found solace in solitude. He couldn’t skip school and stay in his dorm or return to his apartment, because both would result in his mother worrying and stressing over him and his uncle getting on his ass about the importance of school and sending his mother into more distress than what she was already enduring. He’d come across the remote haven on accident; one morning when he arrived at school earlier than anyone else, he’d made a wrong turn into what he thought was his homeroom, but upon recognizing the darker and tinier corridor he had entered, realized he had in fact entered one of the maintenance hallways. Curiosity got the better of the dark skinned boy, and upon climbing the three flights of stairs, came across an unlocked metal door that lead to the school's rooftop.

For months, that would be his routine. Arriving a couple of hours before classes began to spend time by himself upon the school’s rooftop. He’d watch the sunrise above the Brooklyn skyline, allowing the heat to melt the cold exterior of his skin, shaking off the bitterness that came from lack of sleep and a racing mind from the night before. Miles and the morning sun became good acquaintances that way, greeting each other at each sunrise; it became one of very few things he looked forward to in those days, and continued to be his secret motivation to peel himself from his bed in the morning to attend the school his mother and father worked hard to put him in.

His hand grasps onto the door hand and twists, pushing the door outward and Miles is immediately washed in the evening sun. He steps onto the concrete ground, scanning the area in front of him for the presence of another. The corner in which he usually occupies is empty, and there’s nothing much to see at the moment but scattered leaves on top of firm grayness.

Black and white Jordan turn and trail around the side of the rooftop doorway, still searching for any sign of another's presence. Taji’s tip is proven correct when his eyes land upon a feminine figure, and there’s a slight wave of relief crosses his face upon finally finding the girl who’d been missing from class two hours before.

“Yo.” Miles calls out to her, and yet there is no reaction. With his eyebrows furrowed, he calls out again, but there is no response once again. He begins to walk further towards her, confusion beginning to settle in, but is then relieved when he notices a book in her lap; as well as earbuds that become visible the closer Miles steps towards her.

There’s a peaceful air that surrounds the girl, and there’s a part of Miles that doesn’t want to disturb her, but as much respect as he has for the other, he’ll be damned if he has to wait until next week to explain this project to her. So, with a short sigh, Miles reaches his hand out to touch her shoulder, calling out to the girl for the third time.

“Aye-” he begins, and all it takes is a touch on her shoulder for the girl to jump away from his touch in shock. A short yelp - more like a squeak, if anything - erupted from her mouth, which made Miles purse his lips tight to keep the snort he wanted to release at bay.

“Jesus, fuck-” you curse, shoulders dropping and a sigh leaving your lips the moment you realized who it was.

“You know that’s dangerous, right?” Miles asks, raising a finger to create circular motions towards his own ear before gesturing to you. “Having those things in on max; what if you was out on the street?”

A scowl forms on your lips as you take out one of your earbuds, stopping the music you had filtering into your ears as you were deep into your reading. You held the book by the spine, thumb placed in between the pages and forefinger on the hardcover spine. “I know not to do that on the street,” you reply, “I was just tryna read my book, before you decided to scare the living shit out of me.”

The boy rolls his eyes at your words, then follows your form as you take to sitting on the concrete ground, using the side of the ventilation bed to lean against. A second of silence passes between the two of you, before Miles finds himself sitting in the spot you once occupied, with wiring fans sounding behind him softly.

“You ain’t come to class today,” Miles voices, hands tucked into the pockets of his black and white Brooklyn letterman jacket as he focuses his gaze onto you. The soft click of you closing your earbud case sounds as you pocket them into your jacket to give the other male your attention, “what was that about?”

It takes you a minute to respond, and Miles isn’t sure if it was because you were coming up with an excuse that would satisfy him, or if you were buying your time for the question to be unanswered. “You know we got them projects assigned today, right?”

“That’s exactly why I ain’t go,” you answer, finally, “there’s an odd number in that class. Was hoping that I’d just be able to do somethin’ by myself instead of being partnered with some lazy ass who don’t be doin’ shit for real.”

“Damn,” the boy breathes with a chuckle, amused by her colorful choice of words, “ain’t even give me a chance and I’m already being called lazy, that’s crazy.”

It takes you a moment to catch on to his tease, at first furrowing your brows as you deciphered what his words meant. As realization dawned on you, your brows rose apologetically, having now realized the possible severity of your words. 

“No, wait- shit, I didn’t mean like that-”

“You cool, chill,” the dark skinned boy reassures, “I know what you mean.”

He watches as another sigh leaves your lips, in relief that your words were not misunderstood, but also in response to his little joke, and he can’t help but to chuckle again. “You right, though. Don’t nobody in that class do shit for real.”

That little jest did garner a laugh from you, and Miles can tell it’s one of comfort and ease. It’s the kind of laugh his mother would share with him after a long shift at the hospital where she’d have to put up a professional front, and she finally is able to shed the protective exterior and be her cheeky self. It’s the kind of laugh that signifies the forming of bond between people; the development of a relationship; the start of something new.

“A’ight, here’s the deal,” says Miles, his hand coming from the pocket of his jacket, rubbing his nose out of habit, then leaning on his knee to grow closer to you, “we both don’t wanna do this project ‘cus it’s a waste of time-”

“A huge waste of time-”

“-but if we do this project, I can prove to you I’m not a lazy ass.”

He watches as you feign a look of thought, eyes casted upward, lips pursed together with a little hum rumbling from your throat. After a moment, your eyes geared over towards Miles, a teasing smile gracing your lips, before finally answering him; “A’ight, sure.”

You start to rise, and Miles does as well, outstretching a hand to help you up from your seating position. As you dust off the bottom of your skirt from the debris on the ground, Miles picks up your bookbag from the ground and hands it to you once you’ve adjusted yourself appropriately. 

If Miles would have been told that he would be dating the girl who was partnered with him for their end of year project, he’d look at you as if you just called him out of his name. And yet, as he glances down at his phone, eyes scanning over your good morning messages together, he finds himself secretly thanking that teacher for pairing them up; he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Hey, Unc?” says the younger, breaking the comfortable silence shared between the two, the ambiance of the morning radio the only sound echoing throughout the car.

“Yeah?” For a second, Miles purses his lips together. He spends a few seconds looking down at the screen of his phone and at the road ahead, as if contemplating on his next words carefully. It doesn’t take much for Aaron to notice the shift in behavior. “What is it?”

The younger’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, creating an extrusion on the side of Miles’ face, before he speaks; “You hungry?”

It’s an odd question posed, Aaron thinks, as it’s one that’s honestly never been posed in this section of their shared routine. Once a job was finished, especially when it went well into the night, and cleanup and debriefing happened during the early morning hours, both were too exhausted to let the thought of hunger cross their minds. Aaron raises an eyebrow at the question, beckoning the younger to explain further, “Am I…hungry?”

“Yeah,” says Miles, “my girl, she uh, she made breakfast, and asked if I wanted a plate. So I was askin’ you if you wanted one too-”

The look on Aaron’s face turned from confusion to bewilderment, and the previous expression was mirrored onto Miles’ face the second his sentence finished. “Why you lookin’ like that?”

A moment passed. A smile cracks onto Aaron’s face, a chuckle falls from his thick lips, a teasing tone already etched into his voice as he begins to speak.

“Oh no-”

“Aww, shit-!”

“Please, tio, don’t-”

“She can cook, too?”

And for the next few second, Miles is sunken into the passenger seat as all he can do is allow the onslaught of teasing and pestering from his uncle to cause heat to rise up his neck at a staggering temperature. In between the questions of other endearing qualities his nephew’s girlfriend may have had, the GPS within the car directs the older to said girlfriend’s address, of which had been keyed in during Aaron’s banter. Amidst it all, the growling of their stomachs was undeniable.

After a series of turns, the pair eventually reached your block, the familiar brownstone buildings and plotted trees along the sidewalk illuminated beautifully by the morning sun. “Right here,” Miles says as he points to the specific brownstone with your address on it, the older easily slipping into the parking spot in front of the building.

The younger mumbles a ‘be right back’ before he slips from the car, leaving Aaron in his own solitude, finding amusement in the entire ordeal. Never had he thought he’d be offered a plate of food by his nephew’s girl, and yet, he finds himself reliving the almost identical situation to the time Jefferson wanted to pull up to Rio’s home for a warm plate of empanadas. It had been the first time he had met Rio, and if Miles was anything like his father, then this would be the first time he’d meet the girl that stole his nephew’s heart.

Thirty minutes pass before Miles emerges from the reddish-brown door, and Aaron would have told the boy off for having him wait for long for a plate he offered, if he hadn’t seen the young lady he’d assume to be his girlfriend trailing behind the dark skinned boy.

“Remember, the one on top is your uncles since he doesn’t like pork bacon. And be careful because the food is still hot, I don’t want y’all to burn your mouths-”

“Baby,” Miles says, his tone warm and comforting as his freehand comes to your waist, the other holding the white bag of styrofoam containers containing the breakfast you had prepared, “I know, it’s okay. I’m not gon’ steal his turkey bacon.”

“Yeah, you better not.” You mumble against the skin of his cheek before pressing your lips to the soft skin, pressing deep into the flesh as if to burn the imprint of your lips onto his skin. Once your lips parted from the first kiss, a series of pecks met Miles’ cheek, causing the boy to smile unconsciously by the softness of your touch.

Miles’ wandering eyes caught the sight of his uncle peering through the car window, snickering at the pair, but just as soon as he was caught, the older resumed his original position; though the attempt to restrain the tug on his lips proved to be a struggle. “Is that your uncle?” You ask, innocent but hesitant, not wanting to cross a boundary. Though the state of your relationship was healthy and stable, with lots of communication and expressions of love shared amongst the both of you, Miles had made it clear that easing you into meeting his mother and uncle would be something to take seriously. They were all he had left, and he wanted to make sure that what the two of you had, and were working to develop, was something long term and lasting. The last thing he wanted was for his relationship to crash and burn the second he wanted to connect the most significant people in his life together.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Miles replies, a slight tug on one side of his lips as he turns to glance at the car, then back towards you, “do you wanna say hi?”

You barely understood the words the other had asked you before nodding excitedly. Though as the two of you descended down the tan concrete stairs, across the sidewalk and to the side of the care, the revelation slowly dawned on you that you were meeting Miles’ uncle, and you had no idea why all of a sudden you felt conscious of the loungewear set you’d chosen to dawn that morning while you made breakfast, or the fact that if was through the window of his car - both being the exact opposite of how you wanted your first meeting with Miles’ family to go.

Aaron took the hint with both of you approaching the car, and rolled down the passenger window to speak to the two of you clearly.

“Unc,” Miles starts, taking his hand from your waist to gesture between you and Aaron, “this is (Y/N); and babe, this is my Uncle Aaron.”

There seemed to be a second of stalling on your end, before you took a step forward, bending at the knees slightly to meet Aaron’s eyes. His one hand rested on the steering wheel, his other arm leaning on the arm rest, propping him up.

“Hi, Mr. Davis,” you said, doing your bets to refrain from stuttering, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hello to you, too, miss lady,” the older replies, “it’s nice to meet you, too. I heard you made breakfast for us?”

You nodded with a polite smile, “I was just in the mood to cook, and I figured Miles may be hungry; he said you were with him, so I only thought it right to make you a plate, too.”

Aaron purses his lips together in an expression of approval, eyes moving from yours to his nephews as his head bobbing in a slow motion. “Oh, yeah, she’s good, man.”

“Tio, please-” Miles whines, which garners a chuckle from his uncle and a giggle from you; and for a second, the feeling that formed in the pit of his stomach the first time he made you laugh returns. The kind of laughs that signifies the forming of a bond between people; the development of a relationship… the start of something new. It’s from that, that Miles knows that any worries of his family not liking you vanishes. 

[vhstown]

ain't no love; pt. 4

"ain't no love 'cause you ain't around"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SERIES SUMMARY: Miles G Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 3 / PART 4 / PART 5 ->

chapter summary: [DUAL POV] This was probably not how sophomore year was supposed to go.

content/warnings: mentions of death and loss, mentions of vaping (😭) and depictions of violence

word count: 4.0k

a/n: hi ive had. a very interesting year of high school myself my bad for the wait 😭 thank u all 4 sticking around for... a YEAR??? and thank u @/qiuweyballs for the proofread as always my guy and there will probably be a part 5 and an epilogue after this part ermmm yea 4 parts is not it guys

"Jesus Christ…"

By the look on your face, you were probably thinking the same thing.

"Miles…" Your voice was a whisper, eyes still fixed at the gym doors. “What the hell is going on?"

His arms fell to his sides in response. All the same questions you were going to ask were circulating through his head already, but he didn't have a single answer in response. His chest was beginning to hurt as he held his breath, thinking of what to say — what to do.

"Mijo, someone's calling you. Is this your friend?”

"Mami, uh, yeah, from school."

"¿Se llamas 'pana'? ¿Es latino? (You call them 'buddy'? Are they latino?) Wait—! Why did you hang up?"

"I'll call 'em back later, 's not that serious right now."

"Oy, ¡no seas maleducado! (don't be rude!) I'm sure your friend wants to talk to you."

"Right, yeah. Totally. Right when we're about to see dad."

"You have to make time for people, Miles. I know you're busy with school, but you can't expect anything from others if you don't give."

"Lo sé, mamí." (I know, mom.)

"If only you showed it! You might smart in your academics, but in real li—"

"Alright, alright! I'll call back later…!"

“I'll tell you later,” is what came out of his mouth, his eyes at his hands, which disappeared into his pockets. Some friend he was.

“I’m not goin’ to Visions to make friends, Uncle Aaron.”

“Nobody's putting it against you if you do.”

“Nobody would have to.”

Miles noticed your expression again, eyebrows furrowed at his answer. It lacked any semblance of the person he’d come to know. That grit, that quick-thinking look in your eyes, the one he saw when you faced Rafael, when you pulled the alarms at Oscorp… that look that told him that even if something were to happen to you, you’d somehow make it out in one piece — totally missing.

Some god damn vigilante, pulling you into his sh*t.

"I think you should head back."

The words felt useless, tumbling out of his mouth and landing by his feet. Some part of him hoped you'd run before he could see the mistrust in your eyes.

"What are you talking about?” you respond, finally meeting his eyes.

What were you talking about?

"I've seen him before, Miles. That guy… Wellston… You don't get it, he—"

"You two!"

Miles winced, realising he’d bit his tongue. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the sudden voice, or the fact that he almost told you “I know.” It didn't really matter, he decided. Weber didn't look very pleased.

"Are we loitering here, or are we actually going to go and volunteer?" Neither of you could manage an apology as you made a start for the gym.

With the clack of Ms. Weber’s heels behind you two, Miles reached into his pocket, he pulled his phone out.

Home late today, got that job fair Delivered Tqm mami Delivered

Today was going to be a long day.

"What are you mumbling to yourself about?" you whispered, the sharp of your elbow brushing his arm.

"Nothing," he mutters, pressing his lips shut. Talking to himself like a crazy person definitely wasn't helping his case here.

"What do we do?”

"We?" It was his turn to give you an incredulous look.

"We, us, me and you. Does it matter? That thing is at a high school job fair, Miles—"

“If you don't find a way to leave…” he murmured through his teeth, turning and catching Weber's gaze for a moment too long. Right. Her. "You know what? Just trust me."

“Trust you to do what?”

“I’m gonna leave. You’re gonna stay right here.“

“What? Why?”

Beep!

With the tap of Weber’s key card by the doors, tacky decorations, dreary fluorescent lights and stands in various stages of being set up came into view. Visions’ state-of-the-art careers fair. Miles shut his eyes for a moment, squeezing the ache out of them.

“ENROL IN OUR STUDENT PROGRAM TODAY!” read a stand above a picture of young people in lab coats, all smiling in strangely the exact same way. Oscorp still had the balls to come, of course. The actual young people at the stand looked much less enthusiastic than their pictured counterparts, their supervisor barking orders.

“Young Leaders: Get into politics!” — “Apprenticeships at Fisk Industries” — “Join the future of tech with BESTMAN TELECOM”.

Nothing like a bit of colourful text to cover up a couple of questionable practices.

“JOIN US” one read, rather simply. The PDNY.

Miles’ eyes lingered on the smooth police blue behind the pictured police officers. It was the same blue that he’d seen in adverts on the subway, peeking out from graffitied billboards, on his dad’s uniform.

He wondered what had happened to his dad’s co-worker. He wondered what the hell a man with the bright yellow visitor’s badge was doing pretending to be Police Constable Daniella Williams at some random school careers fair.

“JOIN US”.

He wondered if his dad had seen the same poster he was looking at right now.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Make yourselves useful!” Right. Weber.

You followed him as he walked into the gym, right past the PDNY stand.

He didn’t know how he was going to break it to you that this was probably going to be the last time you'd see him — at least, at school.

If the Prowler was good at one thing, it was hiding.

Wellston, Williams, Stromm…

As hard as you tried, everything was hopelessly melding together in your head. Amidst the dull murmur of people getting things together, all you could think of was that melting face back at Oscorp, every crevice burned into your memory by the light of the Prowler's blast.

You tried to avoid looking at the woman, as if she'd deform before your eyes as soon as you did. You’d met P.C. Williams before, back when you were a freshman and this fair was actually meant for you. She still had the same cropped hair and thick glasses. Well, this thing did, anyway.

Miles wasn’t looking at you right now. It was good that he wasn’t, you thought. There was a crease between his brows, one he had when he was thinking of what to write in English Lit, or frowning at his phone in the hallways. You had no idea what he was thinking about right now, though.

“You're leaving?” you muttered, despite yourself.

The boy took in a breath, but the sigh you expected didn’t follow.

“I’m gonna leave, and you’re gonna cover for me.”

“To do what? Are you gonna call the cops or something?”

Stupid idea.

“Stupid idea," he replies, shaking his head.

I was gonna say that, damn it.

What if he somehow knew this shapeshifter person? You shook the thought from your head — he’d been just as shocked as you had when he saw Wellston shapeshift.

But he was the one to pull you into that hiding spot in the first place — almost like he’d been anticipating it. He went with you to the extra class too. He went on the subway with you even though he seemed to get more irritated every stop you passed, and he clearly didn’t live that far out.

“Miles,” you started, eyes narrowing at him, even if he wasn’t looking at you. “Are you—”

“Morales!” A flicker of annoyance tinged the boy’s expression as he turned to face the source of the voice.

Emerging through the crowd — buzz cut, shiny earrings, colourful suit —Principal Evans stepped into the space between you two.

“Could I talk with you a minute?” Her lips were pressed into an impossibly thin line.

“…Sure.” Miles turned away, but not before giving you an awkward look. For a second, it convinced you that you two were back in AP Calc, and Wellston was going on a tangent about something a little too personal again.

“Don’t you got somewhere to be?” The look Principal Evans gave you was more expectant.

You nodded by instinct, walking away before you could say anything at all.

Finding yourself at the back wall of the gymnasium, concealed rather poorly by the tacky banking stand, you turned to see “The Daily Bugle” in fancy serif, the trumpet logo plastered everywhere it would fit. A red-haired woman pinning up some papers glanced back and smiled at you. She was pretty, eye makeup immaculate and lipstick as clean as her smile — a journalist, of course.

“Are you here to help?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah…” you mumbled out, straightening out your shoulders. The least you could do right now was be useful, while hoping Evans wouldn't keep Miles too long.

“Good, because the kid who was supposed to help out here just up and disappeared.” She let out out a laugh, the professional edge in her smile softening. It eased your nerves just a little. “Mind helping me out with these? I’m Mary Jane Watson, by the way — just MJ right now, though. I'm a journalist at the Bugle.”

“Sure, MJ.” You smiled back, a little dubiously, before reaching for some of the papers.

“NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL PROWLER SPOTTED AT OSCO—”

“Nope,” you whispered under your breath, picking out another headline.

“Did you say something?” MJ asked.

“Oh, no, nothing.”

You bit your lip, flicking through the papers. “Where’d the other kid go?”

“I have no idea. He wanted to use the bathroom, but it’s been 20 minutes. Pretty sure his name was Rafael.”

“Rafa—” The paper flopped, half-open in your hands. “Oh…”

“Was that a bad idea? Is he notorious at your school or something?” she jokes. You manage a sort-of grin.

“Kinda? I didn’t think he’d be at the careers fair.” Rafael of all people… “Are you the only one here?”

“Pretty much. It was my idea to come, everyone’s busy at the Bugle, right?”

“Probably, yeah.”

Miles was still talking to Evans. Whatever he was going to do, you had to cover for it… Did you really? What if you were covering for something crazy? What was crazier than this? Was he just going to ditch you? Why was he talking to Principal Evans all the time anyway?

“Mary— MJ,” you started.

“Yeah?”

“Do you… would you happen to know anything about Oscorp? You know, with the Prowler…”

“Oh, I wish. Oscorp’s been dead silent. Everything’s 'just speculation' for now.”

“Why are they sure it's the Prowler, then? Couldn’t it have been someone else?” Like, the weird shape shifting monster thing?

“He’s been a big problem for Oscorp lately. A security breach doesn’t seem too out of character for him.”

“Security breach?”

“No details on that, unfortunately. Are you interested in journalism, or just curious?”

“Just curious…" you reply, a weird laugh leaving your mouth. "Who knows, though?”

Like you’d ever willingly go into the press — at least, not the Bugle. J. Jonah Jameson and his conspiracies were not at the top of your job prospects.

“That looks good," MJ says, giving you a nod as you straightened out the display of leaflets and little trinkets on the table. “Glad you came by — I don’t think the other kid’s coming back, though.”

“Yeah, probably not…”

Eyes falling on the exit, you saw someone waving as they made their way out — a woman in a police uniform.

P.C. Williams.

Miles was still talking to Evans. He looked frustrated, almost upset, even — definitely not noticing what was going on right now.

“Uh, Mary— I mean, MJ. I’m… just gonna use the bathroom real quick.”

“Oh, uh, okay. Just make sure to come ba—”

Sorry, MJ.

Walking right by Miles’ field of view, and with Principal Evans’ back to you, you mouthed what you hoped would come across as “HE’S LEAVING” as the doors shut behind Williams.

“Where are you going?” A girl with her hair in an erratic half-bun and crossed arms stopped you, standing in front of the door. Great. Maybe you’d have to start hating these seniors more than the freshmen.

“Bathroom,” you mumbled, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.

“That’s what the last guy said,” remarked a boy much taller than the girl, hair coloured in a way that probably wasn’t allowed at school. He was also crossing his arms. Tweedledee and tweedledum.

“No, you don’t get it, I really gotta go—”

“You can't wait for 10 minutes?” the girl replied, a demeaning furrow in her brows.

“I—” You swallowed, realising you were wasting time. He could be anywhere, or any-one right now.

Click!

“Hey!”

Doors shutting behind you and feet carrying you past the changing rooms, you dashed outside, ushering past the growing congregation of freshmen and hoping you weren’t being followed right now.

Wellston was walking into the main reception.

Walking closer, you could make out just who was leaving the reception: a woman in a police uniform, visitor’s badge in hand.

P.C. Williams. You felt like you were losing it.

Feet stuck to the ground, you could only stare as she approached you.

“Hey, sorry, you’re a student here, right?” She gave you a smile, looking around briefly. “Which way is the job fair? I always lose my way around here.”

“Um…” You blinked a little uselessly. “Over—”

“It’s that way. Big blue and yellow sign. Can't miss it”

You turned to see Miles, thumb pointing towards the gymnasium.

“Thank you!” The woman nodded at him, before walking away.

When she was far enough, Miles turned to you.

“What’d you see?” he said, reaching into his pocket. You tried to recount it.

“I— Wellston just left from the reception. At the exact same time as that police lady— Who are you texting right now?”

Miles was tapping away at his phone incessantly, pausing to look up at you when you stopped talking. When he saw your less-than amused expression, he almost sheepishly looked back down at his phone again.

“Hello? Earth to Morale—”

“Just gimme a sec, damn!”

You could tell he was trying to school the frustration on his face, the way his cheek in from biting the inside of his mouth.

“…That's it,” he suddenly muttered out loud.

“What? That's what?”

“That guy's the…” Miles presses his lips together, stopping himself.

“The what?” You almost wanted to shout at him, but it probably wasn't a good idea considering that

“The Chameleon, Jesus, are you—” He let out an exasperated breath, running a hand over his face. You were glad he didn’t finish that sentence. “He’s involved with the Sinister Six.”

"Isn't the Prowler part of the Sinister Six too? It's looking a lot more than six people lately, Miles."

"The Prowler's not a part of the Sinister Six."

"What's the difference? I know you're into comics and stuff, but these aren't supervillains, they're real criminals!"

“Rude.”

"Like you haven't been!"

You let out a groan as he continues with his phone, looking behind you two occasionally.

“Who the hell is the Chameleon anyway?”

“Shapeshifter. In prison eight years ago. In schools now, for some damn reason.”

“We were eight eight years ago, why do you even know that?”

"Do you not watch the news?"

"Rude."

It's his turn to groan, shaking his head.

"Who are you texting?"

"My uncle." You were half-expecting him to say his mom.

“What's your uncle gonna do? Is he a police officer too?”

His jaw shifts at that, before you both notice the forboding presence in the distance.

Principal Evans.

“Look, my mom’s real sick and I had to leave, got it?”

As soon as the words left, he did too, sprinting straight for the reception.

“Oh my God…” you muttered under your breath, hand pressed against your forehead, waiting for your next impending doom.

“You.” Defeatedly, you turned to the woman, her arms crossed. She had Rafael standing next to her, who looked even more defeated. “Just where did you run off to?”

“The bathroom—”

“Do not lie to me.” You tried not to wince at her tone. “There are bathrooms in the gymnasium.”

“I thought they were locked, so I… went to my dorm’s bathroom.” The woman furrowed her brows at you, as if trying to get something more out of you. The breath was still in your throat, hoping your terrible lie would hold up.

“Your dorm's bathroom… And where’s Morales?”

You felt Rafael’s eyes on you for a moment.

“His, uh…” You tried to recall what garbage excuse he’d just told amongst the muddle in your head. “His mom’s sick or something, I dunno, he had to go home…”

“Right. I’ll be makin’ sure to call her.”

Sorry, Miles. Sorry, MJ. Sorry, Principal Evans. Better start practising your apologies now.

It was his problem. Kind of definitely yours too.

“The fair’s about to start, I need y’all back in there this instant. And Ortiz, you’re goin’ straight to my office.”

Despite the nagging urge to poke fun at Rafael, the two of you walked back in silence. You had a rough idea of what he was off doing, considering the overwhelming smell of artificial strawberry coming from him. Maybe Evans would finally expel him. Vaping wasn't the most noble way to go, though.

Regardless, it was his problem. You wondered why it felt like it was yours too. Maybe it was because you were both in trouble, or because you somehow got involved in everyone's problems regardless. To think you'd finally get used to this school in sophomore year.

“Are you interested in journalism, or just curious?

"Just curious. Who knows, though?"

Maybe MJ could help — after a little apology, probably.

"We can't go after him right now."

"Why not?" MIles murmurs into his phone as he fumbles with the hoodie and mask he'd hastily thrown on. The receptionist hadn't been at the desk, but he did not want his face in someone's line of sight.

"That might not even be him, Miles."

"I thought his victims were supposed to be dead."

"One's definitely alive."

"Yeah, and she's at the fair. Wellston didn't even show up to class."

"Your ma's gonna be happy." God damn it. He could already hear her lecture. Mijo, sneaking out of school?!

"Shut up," he mutters, to nobody in particular.

"Don't talk to me like that, Miles."

"Sorry."

He turns into the main street, spotting Wellston. Looks like he hadn't shape-shifted yet. The streets were flooded with school kids now. Some were piling out of his old middle school, pulling faces and make strange noises at him. Still the same as ever.

"You still following him?"

"Trying."

Moles were made for hiding. This one was steadily speeding his way through the crowd as Miles tried to match his pace. There were just a few more by-streets to pass before the station, meaning he'd have to make his move before he'd lose the chance to.

As a new flood of people came through, Miles found himself just a foot or two away. With a quick jut of his elbow, the man's briefcase-looking bag came tumbling off of his shoulder, kicked around on the pavement by a million people's feet. Miles pummeled the bag with a kick, and it spinned easily into the darkness of the nearby alley, as if it weighed nothing. Wellston looked at him with uncertain eyes, as if he'd derived some shred of what was going on, but started walking for the alleyway anyway.

"I got him, don't even worry about it," he murmurs into his phone, before following him, feet silent against the concrete. He can make out the faint sigh of his uncle as the sound of the city temporarily fades away.

As Wellston reached down to pick up his bag, Miles shoved the man to the wall, his body obscured from view by a dumpster. As he scrambled to face him, Miles' foot pinned him right back where he was, dug right against his stomach.

"Huh, what a—"

"If you scream, you're not coming out of this damn alleyway," he taunts, shoving his phone in his pocket so his uncle couldn't hear how terribly he was deepening his voice right now.

"Okay, okay. What do you want? My wallet? Here—" The man let out an uncomfortable grunt as Miles forced his foot a little harder against him.

"I want to know who you are." Aside from the creepy ass teacher following my friend around.

"Who I…? I—I'm William. William Wellston. I'm twenty-six and work at Brooklyn Vi—" The man's face scrunched up in pain at the sudden tilt of Miles' foot against the bend of his torso.

He could hear the quiet crack of claws, somewhere in the distance. So his uncle had shown up.

"Wrong answer. One more chance."

"Alright, alright! I'm… God, why me…?" If the man took any longer, Miles was sure he was going to put his other foot into the equation. "I'm Garrett. Garrett East. I used to be an accountant at Manhattan Tax Services."

Garrett… who the f*ck now?

"Who's William Wellston, then?"

"I… oh my God, I deserve this, don't I? He's… another guy. I stole his identity. His life."

"How so?"

"You… you're not going to tell anyone, right? I am dead if my boss finds out. And that's not that Evans lady."

"You're dead if you don't cough it up right now."

Miles was expecting the Chameleon to be a little more formidable for an international criminal, but the tiny, indignant little squeak that came out of his mouth was less than.

"Oh my god, okay! I'm… my boss is… he's really good at costumes, and fixed me up to look like this guy — I didn't know he was dead, okay!"

"Costumes…? Don't lie to me."

"I'm serious! I mean, uh, this is sort of a costume, but I look like this every day now."

"You're not a shapeshifter?"

"I'm not a… what?" The man's exasperated expression turned to one that of what appeared to be… genuine confusion. It almost felt like Miles had been slapped in the face.

"…What did I tell you, Chameleon? Don't lie to me. Or is he your boss?"

"Chameleon? What… No, my boss is… My boss is a guy called Dmitri. Couldn't tell you his last name, it's Russian I think."

"Dmitri Smerdyakov." Damn name ain't even that hard. "So… the Chameleon."

"I don't know who the Chameleon is—"

"Where were you at 3:00pm today?" Wellston was missing from class, that's for sure.

"I… My boss told me to leave and… hide out. I had a class at the time, but he sounded angry so I didn't want to argue. I'm… kind of fired now."

"For one class?"

"He's made me do that a lot of times. Told me to give him my keycard and… look I don't know, okay! This Dmitri guy, you wouldn't want to know him. And my life is basically over, for the second time."

The man looked at Miles as if he was going to break down crying, and the boy felt a lot more awkward as he tried to piece things together before that happened.

"Where's your boss?"

"I don't… please. I don't know. I don't know who you are either!"

Before Miles could even let out a breath, a purple-green flurry whizzed by his peripheral, followed by a thump of feet. One clink of the metal claws got the man spluttering.

"Okay, okay! He's the Chameleon, the shapeshifter! He's been taking my place, and, uh, he's trying to take over this kid's life too! He's, Jesus, please don't hurt me. You're the Prowler aren't you…? The two of… oh god."

Miles could care less about being identified right now, or the fact that it took his uncle about 2 seconds to get more information out of this bastard that had been lying to him for 2 minutes straight. This kid. He felt his chest tighten.

"This kid?" he mumbled, knowing his uncle wouldn't respond. He had to keep up the strong and silent schtick, as he put it. Now was not the time to marvel at the corniness of that, though. "Who?"

Miles thought he might be sick when he heard what came out of the miserable man's mouth.

It was your name.

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thank you for reading, reblogs appreciated! find my atsv masterlist here!

[starandcloud]

I Need Your Love

42!Miles He gets irrationally angry when he's in love with someone.

I don't mean stupid lil crushes

I mean when he's fully in love with someone

They're all that occupies his mind

He pushes them away by calling their voice annoying and saying he hates how touchy they are. But he reviles in the attention he gets from them

They had gotten so used to Miles being mean to them and one day they get into a fight with him. Miles lists off everything he "hates" about them. How he hates them touching him and their voice and how happy they are all the time and how much they hug him.

He had them gently pressed against a wall as his voice got softer and he started to say how much he hated that stupid chapstick they always wore because it made their lips look so soft... Miles says how much he hates how bad he wants to kiss them and how he hates everytime he goes to sleep or closes his eyes he sees them. His "I hate"s turn into "I love"s and "I need"s as he babbles about how bad he wants to feel their lips on his and how their voice makes his brain go fuzzy how their touch sends electricity through his body.

"I need your love until you can't give me anymore... I fucking hate the hold you have on me. That stupid fucking voice of yours fogs my brain and your god damn hands electrocute me. You're on my mind twenty-four fucking seven Cariño... You don't understand the chokehold you have on me right now, if you asked me to come over I'd drop everything to come and see you. You have no idea how hard it is to act like I hate you Querido... You don't have a single clue what you do to me... You are mi media naranja... You are Mi Amor, Mi Vida, Mi Alma, Mi Tesoro, Mi Corazón... And if you'll be mine you'll be Mi muñeca. Mi Reina... You're such un pequeño ángel... So please... please Niñita please... let me kiss you... Please I need it..."

Cariño = Sweatheart Querido = Dear Mi Media Naranja = My Better Half Mi Amor = My love Mi Vida = My life Mi Alma = My soul Mi Tesoro = My treasure Mi Corazón = My heart Mi muñeca = My doll Un pequeño angelito = You're such a little angle Niñita = baby girl

[luvmorales]

HELLOOOO I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!! Can you do a Miles Morales x fem! reader who’s like rory gilmore from gilmore girls (I don’t know if you watched it, if you didn’t or simply don’t want to do it its totally fine), reader who’s like chilton rory?? Thank you <3

TUTOR ‧₊˚

pairing ⊹˚. 42!miles morales x rory gilmore!reader 

summary →  you help miles study for a test but he can’t help but focus on something more distracting 

contains ☾₊ ⊹ fluff + kissing, just cutesy stuff

a/n: thankuuuu so much omg! hopefully you like this pook, i love gilmore girls that show is so comforting, TY FOR REQUESTING <3!!

you were very smart, and you tried to be modest but you continue to keep up straight A’s, studied whenever you got the chance, and always bringing a book to parties just in case yk?

you were pretty quiet and kept to yourself most of the time, but you finally found the person you long desired to have in your life, miles. 

it was the first day of school when you met him, he tried creeping into the class trying not to be noticed as he walked in late. something about him was so alluring in your eyes, he tried cracking a joke trying to lighten the mood but failed, at least he got a stifled laugh from you. ever since you two have been inseparable, your friendship blossoming into a relationship.

miles never had trouble with school, so when he asked you to help him study for a test you happily volunteered.  

the bell had just rung, you grab your bag and walk out of the classroom looking for miles as u reach the entrance, “hey baby” miles says as he comes up from behind wrapping his long arms around your waist

you feel the warmth in your whole body heat up from his soft touch, “hi loveee” you say turning around and putting your arms around his neck as he gives you a kiss 

“you’re coming to my house right?” you say finally pulling away and grabbing his hand starting in the direction of your house

“yes mami, you gotta help me study” he replies staring at your silhouette as you walk at a faster pace than him 

“woah slow down ma why you rushing?” miles says letting out a breathy laugh as you guys walk down the street 

you slow down walking beside him, “miles we have to get home so we have enough time to study!!’ you say laughing 

when you and miles finally get to your door he grabs your hand and drags you to your bedroom as he pushes you into your bed laying kisses all over your face 

“miles!-stop we need to get to work!” you squeal out as you try to wiggle out of his arms

“okay! okay” he says letting you go

you go and change into some comfy clothes, walking back into your room with textbooks to help miles study

“come here baby, i’m gonna make some flashcards while you read over my notes” you say while miles sits down 

you realize miles is sitting on your desk chair so you bring the flashcards to the floor sitting down and starting to write away 

“what are you doing” miles stares at you

“What do you mean, i’m making flashcards,” you asked feeling confused 

“i mean what are you doing sitting on the floor?”

“well- you're sitting at my desk soooo…” you say laughing a little 

“mami.” he looks at you with a slight smirk “you know you can just sit on top of me,” he says grabbing your arms and pulling you off your hard floor, guiding you onto his lap

“oh,” you say trying to get the butterflies out of your stomach as you try and focus on helping miles

when you finally think you both are focused on working you feel miles arms creep around your waist hugging you close

“mileeess! we need to focus okay-” you say trying to concentrate, you ignoring him doesn’t work as he tries to pepper kisses all over your neck 

“oh my god, i swear to god miles!” you giggle out, “i promise after we finish study we can cuddle okay?” trying to negotiate with your boyfriend 

“fine” he grumbles out grabbing the notebook and starting to read again

after you and miles go over every piece of information making sure you prepare him the best you can for his unit test, you finally get blankets and cuddle up right next to him. 

miles felt so lucky to have you in his life, you’re always looking out for him and making sure your helping him in all ways you can “thank you for today baby, i love you so much you don’t even know” he whispers kissing you on the forehead as he sees the way your eyes flutter shut.

[mileshobiehobiemiles]

Text imagines with 42!Miles x reader

My first post! Hope I can write some fics for 42!miles, hobie, and Andrew!Peter 🩵

“Pero tengo planes hoy ya con Stephanie” (but i already have plans with Stephanie)

“Fue que no oíste?” (Is it that you didn’t hear?)

Qué pasó mamita? (What happened, mamita?)