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fanaticsnail · 9 months ago

Text

Shameless: 1/3

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,285

(Image Source)

Synopsis: You have a type, one that has been forcefully revealed by your crewmen's incessant nagging. After being ordered to return to your workshop to receive further instruction, you become fully aware of why you have been hidden away from meeting with the captain of the Victoria Punk. He was exactly your type.

Notes: This is my first time writing for Eustass Kid. It was meant to be a one-shot, but it quickly got out of hand very fast. Looks like a two or three parter. afab!reader - but can be read as gn.

Themes: senseless flirting, mature themes, NSFW language, choking, vulgarity, promiscuity, shamelessness, heart-pirate!reader x captain!Eustass Kid, this reader is a perpetual and shameless flirt, heart pirates x reader, partial zoro x reader, platonic law x reader.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @since-im-already-here

Song Suggestion: It's Cuffing Season - Dj Rehan, JW Velly

Within the rotund chasm of the crew dining quarters rung a loud and rambunctious melody. The sway of your hips and the lyrics falling from your smiling lips alongside Shachi and Penguin had the mood of the hour joyful and merry. The speakers ignited with the crackle of the powerful ballad screaming over the powered mounted system bordering the ceiling. You swayed your body with Ikkaku’s, your lips relaying the lyrics to the rambunctious melody with a suggestive smile, a smile mirrored by her own elevating to her lips.

These were the cool-down hours: where the Heart-Pirate crew were able to complete tasks they had set aside, or wind down after a hard day's work of following Captain Law’s orders aboard the Polar Tang. Despite his tired and lackluster expression constantly painted across his exhausted face, your captain, Trafalgar D Water-Law, encouraged his entire crew to engage in some lesser restraint as they quiet down before the changeover in shift.

Law was yet to join in on the celebrations, opting to remain behind in his office for reasons you were yet to become privy to. Although he never allowed himself to truly let go and sway his hips, cry tactless lyrics into the air; he truly enjoyed witnessing the crew join together like this. There were only a few songs he would ever mutter the lyrics along to, most of which were harder in musicality, angst-driven in their choruses, and distorted in tonality. Yet, he would always have a soft smile elevated on his lips when the few of you would gyrate, sway, sing and scream alongside the music over the speakers.

As Shachi drew a stainless steel whisk up to his lips and began to shout the lyrics into the crossed tip, the music cut out from its place within the electrical power system. In its stead, Captain Trafalgar Law’s voice dictated a few short and curt orders.

“All hands above deck. Repeat, all hands to the deck. Prepare the Polar Tang to be boarded for a Nakama encounter,” you snapped to the direction of the speaker, Ikkaku’s dancing movements halting beside yours as you listened for further instruction over the system. As no further orders fell from the mechanical mesh, you readjusted your fallen zipper of your white, boiler jumpsuit and spring into action.

“Ohh, a crew boarding? I hope it’s the Straw-Hats! I want to see that little reindeer again,” Bepo noted politely, the thump of his heavy feet stomping along the iron floor beside your smaller steps almost comical.

“Oh, the crew with the green-haired swordsman coming aboard again?” You asked him, brow quirking and smirk rising at the corner of your lips. Ikkaku laughed at your comment, clapping you on the shoulder and walking with Shachi and Penguin in tow behind you.

“The one that was almost your type?” Ikkaku’s smile quirked up at Shachi’s question, his arm hooking over your neck as he spoke down into your ear.

“But not quite, remember?” You giggled at him, playfully extending the sharp secondary knuckle of your index finger into his ribcage, his breath huffing out a hasty exhale at the jolt. Ikkaku and Penguin laughed at Shachi’s wince of pain, his laughter also rising with his crewmates’ and your own.

Amongst the Heart-Pirates, the crew were not unaccustomed to your unrestrained flirting with them. From your close proximity, to the brush of your fingertips, to a warm embrace offered from your arms, to you lounging against them in the quiet hours. But most of all, your vulgar and unwithheld language going far enough to make the most hardened members of the Heart-Pirates’ cheeks tint crimson.

It was a game to you, keeping things lively and interesting aboard your ship as you served alongside them as Law’s chief tinkerer. Nothing ever came of the suggestive conversations and provocative language you offered aside from a friendly kiss, alongside the words, “Sorry, love. You’re not my type.”

As your feet met with the grated bars of the steel steps leading to the deck, Law’s voice cut over the speakers once more to address the crew.

“All hands to the deck, aside from my tinkerer. Go to your workshop and await further instruction,” the distorted crack of his voice did very little to mask the disdain in his voice. There was something bothering your captain - such a bother depicted in his bored and aloof tone. The harbor which anchored such a dirge-like expression which you had very little explanation for. That was, until, the snickering beside you hissed through the smiling teeth of the three human crew members beside you.

“What’s so funny?” you spat, shimmying from the crook of Shachi’s arm and facing the four of them with your hands on your hips.

“Oh, nothing,” Ikkaku giggled before sucking her lips into her mouth to stifle more of her laughter from freely falling from between them. You glanced between the other three, all raising their hands in defense to your pointed gaze.

“Alright, keep your damn secrets to yourselves,” you scoffed, turning your nose up in the air at them before snuggling into Bepo, who eagerly returned your brief embrace, “I’ll see you after the Nakama meet up, I suppose.” They bid their farewells to you, snickering and giggling as they exited the iron hatch of the Polar Tang to rise above decks.

After sculking the halls down the long and lonely corridors to your office, you were shocked at the sight greeting you upon opening the large door. Although he depicted further instruction was awaiting you, you were anticipating private instruction to be carried through your personal Den-Den-Mushi rather than meeting with your Captain himself.

Captain Law was sitting at your desk, his ankles hooked on top of your workbench with his hands laced behind his head, cradling his neck. He lazily glanced through the corner of his eyes at you before slowly unlacing his ankles and rising to his feet. His fingertips clasped his impressive sword, the smoothness of his scabbard reflected in the dim light of your office.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Cap? Shouldn’t you be-?” you began, your words halted immediately by Law’s response.

“-Cut the shit, Tink,” your titled nickname falling in lieu of your real name or formal title from Law’s lips. You relaxed your shoulder against the doorframe, folding your arms across your chest while pursing your lips. You tapped your index finger on your bicep while you awaited further direction from the man in front of you.

With an exasperated sigh, he elevated his slender, tattooed, fingers to his brow and pinched the center between his index and thumb. He huffed a final growl before he bore his honeyed eyes into your awaiting features.

“It seems I will be unable to keep you distracted for the entire time they’ll be here this time,” he muttered to himself in a voice almost impossible for you to catch. You furrowed your brows, opening your mouth to question him further. He halted your words by removing his fingers from his brow to face his palm out to you.

“I am going to say this one time, and one time only,” he continued to hold his intense and stern gaze into your eyes, “Don’t.”

“‘Don’t’ what, Law? What are you talking about-?” you began, halted again by Law’s dictation once again.

“-Just...” Law turned his face slightly away from you, “...-Just don’t, okay? I know you, I know what you’re like, and I’m just letting you know now, and know once. Don’t.”

You were unable to form an adequate response before he stormed out of your workshop and wordlessly gestured for you to follow behind him above deck with his index finger, a hooked motion calling to you. Your captain’s words swirled in your head, your eyes locking on to his neck and tracing his skin with your inquisitive gaze.

Your relationship with your captain was as close a friendship as you could ever muster with such a person. He sought out your skills as a tinkerer, your reputation preceding you when you demonstrated your skilled hands to him. You both bonded over unique collections, his coins and comics, your rocks and pinned insect and arachnid display. Both having a unique place to relay information about your special and unique interests with one another was sacred, and so incredibly special to the both of you.

Where Law and you differed was in how you chose to display your humors: Law holding his hand close to his chest before he truly displays how unhinged his humor was with dark commentary, whereas you were a perpetual flirt with provocative language and sultry advances. You both held each other in a professional standing, before your words took a turn for requited flirtation. Law would reciprocate your vulgarity, and you would mirror back that darkness he expressed, if ever your conversations became flirtatious and humorous with him.

And that is where, like the others, you ended the flirtatious rapport with a simple utterance of: “Forgive me, Cap. You’re not my type,” which threw the captain and crew into an uproar of outrageous laughter. Speculating on what exactly your type was, you finally gave into their incessant interrogation after being offered your fifth drink for the evening from the hands of Shachi.

“Fine,” you spat, your arm swaying as you handled your filled pint, “I like them big. And I truly mean big. Like, throw me over the shoulder big. Like, ‘will it fit’ big. Especially if they’ve got that feral twinkle in their eyes that looks at you like they’d want to kill you,” you confessed, your voice swooning at the thought. After taking a heaping gulp from your drink, you added, “You’re all very beautiful, handsome, and spectacular. But, I just need someone who looks like they could lovingly and desperately break me in half. Bonus points if they’re good with machines, so we can bond.”

After coming down from your whimsical confession, you glanced at the crew. Bepo’s ears were covered by both Shachi and Penguin’s hands - all three of their jaws comically slackened. Law’s teeth were clenched in an awkward, cringe-like, straightened smile with lazy, half-hooded eyes. Ikkaku’s cheeks were tinted red with the elevated hue of rushed blood, her lips broken into a wide grin with her eyes twinkling at the confession.

All of these things were true. You were a person of refined taste, a taste which seemed scarce to come by with the crew you had found yourself working beside. There was Jean Bart, but he was not overly interested in tending to a relationship with you. There was Uni, but your interests fell short when he only depicted gentleness and kindness towards you in lieu of your craving for something more brutal.

Both men remained high spirited and friendly with you despite your attempt at a fling with them falling through. You needed something more. Something more unhinged. Something a little unpredictable, feral and dangerous.

As Law led you above deck, the voice of Jean Bart called for all crew to fall in line to welcome the Nakama crew above deck. Without looking up, you hastily drew yourself between Penguin and Ikkaku, Shachi on the other side of Penguin and Bepo beside Ikkaku as you all stood alert with your arms by your sides.

“At ease, Heart-Pirates,” Law commanded, shooting you one more pointed and narrow-eyed look before turning back to speak with the foreign captains and their crews. It seemed two crews had joined the deck of the Polar Tang: The Straw-Hat Pirates alongside another crew you did not recognise. You quickly examined the First-Mate of the Straw-Hat crew, who met your eyes with a small smirk before returning back to fix his gaze on his captain alongside his crew.

Zoro was almost your type. A night you shared with one another, being evidence enough to your crew, that you had nearly found someone you deemed feral and hulking enough to share in your company. When your lips met his: his actions were closer to timid and gentle as they joined with yours. The fires of passion were there, the small amount of danger also present, but he was still not your type. He was handsome, sure enough. He was aggressive, absolutely. He reciprocated your flirtations with a small elevation of flush tinting his cheeks a warm hue of pink, which you found endearing.

The night concluded with a few deepened kisses, roaming touches from your hands holding each other firmly beneath the stars aboard the Sunny. However, nothing further ever came between the two of you. After that night, the you both remained quite good friends and shared in each other's company, with unhinged and illicit conversation, each time Law met with his captain. He kept pace with you when you drank, spurting dark vulgarity subtly into your ear at the dining table when your crews met; but it was all in good humor and never truly to initiate anything rising further between you.

A small pull at the corner of your sleeve from Ikkaku broke you away from your reminiscing, your face turning to look at her with your brows knitting in confusion. Her lips were sucked into her mouth, her eyes wide in excitement as she bore her gaze directly ahead.

“What’s wrong with you?” your hushed whisper growled at her. She removed her grip on your sleeve and raised her hand to your chin, turning your head without pulling her eyes away from their fixed point in front of her.

“This is who the Captain was keeping from you. Ever wonder why he’d been working you so hard when we meet up with certain crews? He’s why,” she muttered, her lips still sucked within her lips to stifle her rising joy. You allowed her to turn your jaw ahead, your eyes meeting with a hulking figure of a man with fiery red hair.

Your jaw fell slack before your lips pulled up into a broad smile as your eyes fixed themselves on him. He was intimidating, he was hulking, and he was big. Your eyes shamelessly raked themselves over his body, halting on his calves, his thighs, his ass, his arm, his metal arm, his broad chest, his grimace, his makeup, his blaster goggles hoisting his untamed locks away from his face-.

-You hastily drew your eyes back to his left arm, metal in make and incredibly large. It looked heavy, intricate, and mechanical. Your interest deepened at each sway of his arms, flex of his muscles and wind of cogs and bolts within his intricate piece attached to his severed limb. Starstruck, captivated, and interest immediately peaked; you continued to rake your eyes over this foreign man aboard the Polar Tang.

“O-Oh? Oh m-my-...” you couldn’t find the words to form a cohesive string of sentences, your eyes fixed on his arm as you studied it. His mechanical fingertips were clenching, his grimace splitting his scarred face, and his hair bobbing beneath blaster goggles each time he opened his mouth to speak.

“I know, right? Law has been trying so desperately to keep you from meeting him,” Ikkaku added, prompting you to hum deeply in interest with your tongue darting out to dampen your bottom lip.

“That’s your type, then?” Penguin and Shachi uttered in unison, their downturned smiles through gritted teeth cringing through the question.

“That’s-,” you took a moment to collect your thoughts, swallowing a lump of dry saliva within your mouth, ”-Exactly, my type,” you gasped, nodding as you spoke aloud.

“And this is why each time we see the Victoria Punk, we have to keep you below deck and distracted,” Ikkaku managed to stutter out through her giggles. You quickly snapped your eyes back to her, your gaze narrowed and accusatory.

“We’ve had him,” you snapped your eyes away from the hulking gentleman to stare at Ikkaku, “On the Polar Tang more than once?” You snapped your eyes from Ikkaku to turn to Penguin on your other side, “And you managed to keep me distracted?” you uttered through gritted teeth. Ikkaku shrugged her shoulders, puffing out her cheeks to halt an uproar of laughter from falling from her lips.

“Captain’s orders,” Shachi confirmed with a curt nod, stooping out from falling in line to meet his spectacle-covered eyes with yours, “He knows what you’re like, and how you’d react.” He stepped back in line and grunted out a soft cough to clear his throat.

You turned your eyes back to the redhead, quickly looking over his hulking crew before hardening your resolve and humming deeply.

“I am-...” you began, raking your eyes back over his body again, “...-I am going to climb him like a tree.”

Snickers began to fall through the nose of Ikkaku, a small giggle elevating in Penguin’s chest, a huff of air snorting through Shachi’s nose.

“I gotta know what that hand does,” you confessed, your eyes full of wonderment and your tone full of longing desire, “What it feels like. Is it smooth? Does it have different settings? Is it cold? Can he control the pressure? I have to know, for science. I want him-...” you trailed off before dreamily adding: “...-To choke me.”

More laughter and teeters from your friends around you threatened to break through the seal of their clenched lips, Penguin raising his palm to halt his laughter.

“Look at his eyes. He’s got so much pent up hate in that twinkle,” you continued, a whimsical sigh exiting your lips, “I hope he’s the type that scowls into your face while he fucks you hard. Or maybe he’s the type to bend you over a desk while he frantically rams himself into you.”

Ikkaku’s higher pitched whimpered laughter almost broke through her lips, elevating both her hands to clench over the bottom half of her face to stifle her laughter. Penguin was not faring much better, his teeters boiling close to breaking point. Shachi pulled his hat over his eyes in an effort to hide his blush.

“I wonder if all of him is as big, hard and angry as the rest of him,” you hummed, deep in thought. A choked snort threatened to break through Shachi’s nose, Ikkaku held her breath while Penguin cringed behind his palm.

Zoro immediately drew his eye away from his captain and examined the five of you all huddled together in a line. He focussed on your lips moving, reading the unhinged commentary you were entertaining your crewmen with: noticing your gaze was fixed on Eustass Kid. His smirk immediately broke up his lips, his eyes closing as he huffed out a subtle laugh he disguised with a cough.

“And the scars. Are they sensitive? I wonder if he’d writhe when I lick them,” you spoke with wonderment, “How far do they go down? Is it just his face, neck, arm, and chest - or do they go all the way down his body? I would happily lick, kiss and suck my way down while mapping his flesh beneath my lips. Oooh, I wonder if he’s ticklish.”

Zoro’s gaze was now fully fixed on your lips, relaying every word of your hushed conversation lowly to Nami standing beside him. She began holding in her own laughter, choking back stifled whimpers while hearing the repetition of your vulgarity from the first-mate beside her. Nami was also a crewmate you enjoyed spending time with when the Nakama meetings drew the Straw-Hats and Heart-Pirate crews together, appreciating how effortlessly you relayed your desires and flirtations to your crewmen.

“And his face paint. Does it smear when it's coated in sweat and saliva? His face looks like a comfortable place to sit,” you raked your eyes over his face, focussing on his grimacing lips, “He looks like he’d be an aggressive kisser. I wonder if he bites when he eats pu-.”

That was the comment that broke the seal, the three companions by your side finally breaking into an uproar of laughter. The three crews and their captains snapped their attention over to you. You held a look of absolute innocence, your eyes finally meeting with the intimidating presence of the feral, redheaded captain.

His intense rage directed at you had you swooning, your knees buckling and your breath sighing at him. Heat flushed your cheeks the longer your eyes were locked with his. The flutter of your heartbeat and deep sigh departing from your lips perplexed him, depicted by the rage-riddled confusion knitting his brows together deeper.

Without warning with a few quick strides, your captain strutted over to your position among your crewmates.

“Tinkerer,” he spat, your body doing little to hide your longing as you desperately attempted to look behind Trafalgar Law to return your gaze to the Nakama behind you, “I said don’t.”

“Sorry, sir,” you apologized sincerely, snapping your eyes up to his intense gaze,and assuming a more formal position. Your hands were clasped behind your back, your chin elevated in the air and your expression hardened and practiced.

“I just-...” he growled, his eyes clamping shut tightly before reopening, “...It was a suggestion, Tink. Not an order.” He straightened his posture, swirling his neck to relieve it of tension, “At ease, but keep it quiet. Alright?”

“In that case, Cap,” you smiled, relaxing in your stature and beaming a brilliant smile up at him with a shrug, “I am going to test out how loud I can make him roar my name while he fills me full of his hot, sticky cu-.”

“-TINK!” Law scolded you with an exasperated growl, the remainder of the Heart-Pirates bursting into a large, unbridled gaggle of laughter.

Far enough away to not hear the conversation Law was holding with you, Zoro’s smirk cut his face wider at Law’s roar. A low, rumbled chuckle shook Zoro’s shoulders, alerting Luffy and Eustass Kid of his amusement.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Kid’s voice cracked through the air, causing Zoro’s chuckle to halt but his amusement remained.

“Go ask Cap’n Law’s crew,” Zoro suggested nonchalantly with a shrug. Luffy quirked his head to the side, his wide eyes holding mild curiosity. Nami clapped her hands over her lips and shook her head, while Robin’s knowing smile drew itself up to decorate her face with her humor.

“Why would I do that?” Kid growled, turning his intense auburn eyes back to the scene befaling Law and his crew. Law turned back to the two captains, a rise of a pink hue dusting his cheeks as he fixed his hat atop his head.

Behind the tattooed captain, you stood with your brow raised and following your captain’s retreat. He examined you briefly, noting you were holding a hushed conversation with your crewmates behind your captain’s back that had a blush rise to their cheeks, lips curling up into broad smiles, and shoulders quaking in laughter. You were confident, that much was sure.

As Kid met his eyes with yours, he saw your cocky smirk and half-lidded eyes glancing at him with a beckoning taunt. He watched as you shamelessly raked your eyes over his body, pausing on a few key areas and your lips moving with a smile as you spoke.

Kid immediately rose to your challenge, striding immediately over with haste and brushing his shoulder heavily past Law’s - who was too late to halt the meeting of an impossible force colliding with an immovable object. Law held out his arm in warning, an action falling short as the hulking figure covered your body in the shroud of his shadow. His presence sucked the very breath from your body, his intense, piercing gaze burned you as you gazed into them. Lips curling back into a snarl, he scrunched his nose alongside his brows.

“The fuck are you all laughing at?” He roared, his hard gaze stealing the air from within your lungs. He was even more spectacular at his closer proximity, holding you briefly starstruck under his dangerous aura.

“Aww, nothing to say? Something clamping down on your tongue to keep it from moving?” he grimaced his lips up into a cruel snarl. At his taunt, your brief awestruck expression was replaced with a channel for your vulgarity.

“Why, are you offering?” You bite back, your eyes dark with their challenge, “I bet you have an array of things you could use to keep my tongue occupied.” His eyes widened, his grimace falling a little at your words.

“Come again?” He asked, hunching over to draw his face close to yours. He bore his teeth at you, his shock written all over his face.

“I hope so, Sir,” you smile dreamily up at him, “As many times as you can handle it.”

Your crewmen beside you sucked in whimpered breaths, hoping and praying the larger man at least found humor in your comments if not anything else. You continued to hold your half-lidded eyes, glazed over with unwithheld lust and need meeting with his wide eyes, pupils shrunk small and expression angry.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he spat, his brows creasing in the middle of his forehead as his scowl returned, “I should gag, choke and flog you for that.”

“And I would say ‘thank you’, Sir,” you hummed in affirmation, stepping your body closer to his towering form. Reactionary, he stepped further towards you, completely ignoring your crewmates beside you witnessing your interaction. You could feel the waves of tension elevating and igniting fury beneath his hulking form.

“If this is your way of pissing me off,” he snarled, the rumble of his voice echoing within his chest shot a delightful shiver to your spine, “Believe me, it’s fuckin’ working, Sunshine.”

Your heart swelled at his bestowment of such a sweet title onto you, your comrades in arms staring at you in horror as you swooned. Shachi and Penguin were rapidly shaking their heads from side to side in an attempt to warn you to cease your shameless advance of the foreign captain. Ikkaku stifled a smaller gasped whimper, while Bepo covered his ears.

“So violent,” your voice shuddered in delight with an airy breathiness, “Don’t threaten me with a good time unless you intend on seeing it through, Sir.”

Eustass Kid was stunned.

He had not received such provocative and forthcoming flirtation in this way before, and he truly had no idea if your crude words were just a depiction of your humor to entertain yourself, or if you truly meant what you were saying. If your expressions were just an act to draw a laugh from your crewmen, he no longer wanted to take part in engaging with you in this way. However, if you were truly interested in him - your shameless and tasteless salaciousness was indeed igniting something within the tinkerer-captain.

“You don’t even know who I am, Sunshine,” he informed you, drawing up his mechanical left hand and threatening to cage your neck within its cool, steely grip.

“Then educate me on the name I’ll be blissfully crying praises for, Sir,” you groaned, leaning your neck against the index finger of the mechanical contraption.

“You got a lot of nerve to be talking shit about me in front everyone,” he pressed the heel of his metallic palm further into your flesh and curled the digits around your throat, “I’m not a fan of being the butt of some fucked up joke.”

“They’re not laughing at you, Sir. It’s ridicule at my expense,” you confessed, groaning at the feeling of cool metal pressing dangerously hard against your jugular, “They’re laughing at how much I want you, which I do. I really do, if you’re up to the task.”

Kid’s breath was now taking its turn in being stolen from his lungs, your confession weighing as heavy on his heart as his mechanical arm was on his shoulder. He took a moment to process the words falling freely from your lips before he calculated an appropriate response.

“The fuck did you just say-...?” Kid asked you quietly, his arm faltering its grip around your neck while his balled fist clenched tighter to stifle his rising anger.

“You heard me,” you taunted him further, not tearing your eyes from his for even a moment. Your smile never faltered, your eyes displaying their unbridled lust and craving for him within your blackened pupils, “You don’t seem like the kind of guy that needs to be told twice.”

“And what kind of guy do I look like to you?” he spat at you, wringing your neck between his steel fingers.

“A big one,” you gasped a whimpering moan, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt every movement offered by the mechanical contraption. You would adore taking the time to study such a beautiful object in your workshop, but for now; your curiosity was satisfied by the feeling of the hulking larger man caging you beneath its cool grasp.

“You want me to show you how big I really am, Sunshine?” his face split into a broad grin, his brow creasing in the center to deepen his sinister expression, “At least you already know how to call me ‘Sir’.”

Before you could utter another word, Law pulled the captain’s attention away from you with a grasp of his hand on his right forearm. Before he could squeeze his metal fingers around your neck further, he drew them away from your flesh as Captain Law interrupted your building tension.

“Captain Kid,” his stern voice cut through the air, the redhead’s eyes snapped over to meet with the yellow irises of your captain, “I apologize for my tinkerer’s obscenity. They know better,” he shot you a pointed look, one you returned with a stubborn huff of breath. “Tink, I warned you. You’re dismissed. Workshop, now.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” you spat, your heels clicking together as you saluted him with your index and middle finger. You marched yourself below decks, mentally scolding yourself on your shamelessness in front of someone who was finally your type.

As the door closed behind you, Law released a breath he didn’t know he was withholding. As he opened his mouth to speak, Kid spoke over him.

“Did you say tinkerer, Traffy?” his eyes were still fixed on the door you just exited through, his voice almost soft in curiosity.

“That I did,” Law confessed with a huffed breath, “Let’s get back to our meeting so we can get this bullshit over with, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Kid exhaled, turning back to meet his gaze with Luffy and his own crew. He spared one more glance over his shoulder towards the lower deck door of the Polar Tang. Curiosity had you plaguing his thoughts, swirling within every crevice of his mind as he attempted to engage in the fruitless Nakama meeting with the Heart, Kid and Straw-Hat pirate captains.

Pausing just before joining up with Luffy, Kid turned once more to Law and grunted out a small cough. Law lazily turned his face over to him, angling his chin upwards to stare at the larger man. Kid’s cheeks dusted with a small tint of pink, elevating his right hand and pressing it against his lips while grunting through his next choice words.

“They single?”

Law groaned, throwing his head back as he and Kid rejoined themselves next to Luffy to discuss the next aspect of their meeting: no words finding anchor within the Straw-Hat captain’s mind, as he was too busy contemplating when the next meal was to be presented. Will Sanji cook it? Will Kid’s crew, or Law’s provide it? Will it include meat? He hoped it would.

Part 2

#one piece #x reader #eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #kid pirates #heart pirates #trafalgar law #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #shachi and penguin #op eustass kid #supernova trio #my writing #eustass kid is a secret softie #eustass kid is also a flirt

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nikkeora · 11 months ago

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High Enough (Without the Mary Jane)

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. you don't want to be a mary jane anymore.

or, in which you were the mindy s. mcpherson to miles's prowler

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x fem!reader, e-42! Miles Morales x fem!reader (r is referred to with she/her pronouns, no physical description.)

warning(s); fem spanish terms are used ('hermosa' etc.), reader’s hand is smaller than Miles’. author can’t write action sequences for shit.

may be ooc but we haven't seen a whole lot of p!miles yet so there isn’t really much to go off of

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

a/n; according to google the sinister 6 of e42 are doc oc, vulture, electro, rhino, sandman and scorpion, although i've seen some other ppl say that the eastereggs are vulture, rhino, scorpion, sandman, shocker, kraven and electro. i'm going w the google one, maybe kraven and shocker are their own thing. also they're prolly rich aholes since their signs are on buildings n stuff, so that's what i went with.

also reader was sent to earth 42, but like, a few days before 1610 miles arrives, kind of like how gwen was sent to 1610 a week before she found miles

Miles — or, who you assumed was Miles, anyway — took you back to his place, going out of his way to avoid alleys where there weren't many people around and sticking to the bigger streets. You found it kind of weird. Back home, you and Miles used to cut through backstreets and even some sketchy buildings all the time to make it home before curfew.

You felt him steal glances at you the whole walk, and you’d be lying if you didn’t do the same.

This version of him just felt so.. different.

Once the two of you reached your destination, he let you up the stairs first before quietly calling for you to stop once you reached his floor. You hesitated for a moment on the steps. It was a higher level than Miles’s flat back home, and the building had looked a lot different from what you’d seen just half an hour ago, even if it still felt familiar. You’d chalked it up to the multiverse doing multiverse things at first, but he was starting to act a little off.

Having been around your Miles for years, you knew all his tells. You could see how his weight shifted on his feet as he unlocked the door. You could see he was overall standing straighter and more tense. You could see the hesitation before he turned the key.

Miles was lying to you. And he felt guilty.

But what were you going to do?

This universe was new to you. Sure, everything seemed just about the same, but it was all so foreign at the same time. There where skyscrapers you’d never seen before, new graffiti on the streets of the same couple people over and over again - all of whom you were sure you’d seen somewhere before but couldn’t quite grasp where. The sight of buildings blocked by yellow tape and more in the process of repair after seemingly being burned down or blown up were common in this world, like it was an active war zone or something.

You really didn’t have a choice but to follow along.

He opened the door and waved you in, closing the door rather hastily after the both of you.

You took a glance around the room. There were metal bars on the windows, to keep people out or trap them in you couldn't quite figure. There was a DJ setup near them that looked awfully familiar. Hooks hung down from the unfinished ceiling, some holding chains and others oddly shaped items haphazardly wrapped with what looked like brown lunchbag paper. Wires and ventilation just about everywhere, most of the wires leading to either monitors or gadgets you assumed were in the progress of being built. An old, beat up couch and some gym gear by the wall, an open kitchen-slash-workshop area straight ahead.

The only source of light was the neon red from the signs outside the window, and even then the farther bits of the apartment remained a dark purple hue.

Then someone came out of the other room.

“What's this?”

The hell—?

From the shadows, Aaron Davis emerged.

His beard was more grown out then you'd ever seen, and his features looked sharper, almost rougher. His shoulders seemed more broad, though maybe that was the heavy jacket he wore making him look bigger than he actually was.

“¿Tío?”

Miles had taken you around to his uncle's a couple of times, which you now realized was why you recognized this place. Aaron raised an eyebrow at you, surprise flashing across his face before it was quickly wiped out. He looked over you, taling in your appearance.

“Miles.” He asked again.

“I dunno,” the boy replied, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and avoiding his uncle's gaze. “Just found her on the way home.”

“Found her?”

Aaron glanced at you, then back to Miles, then back to you, his eyebrows furrowed in either confusion or frustration. He finally looked back at his nephew, the two of them having a silent conversation you couldn’t read.

“…Fine.” Aaron sighed, turning around—

You felt like you were dying, or being born, or possibly both at the same time. For a split second, you were nothing but particles, your skin and bones and just about everything being ripped apart then sewn back together. Your vision was a mix between TV static and rapid fire neon colors, and it was about the same deal with your hearing (which was concerning, since you couldn't usually hear colors).

Miles had taken a step forward, letting you grab his arms to keep you from falling over as he said something you couldn’t quite hear. Aaron had whipped around so fast you wondered how it didn’t give him whiplash, fists at the ready in case he needed them.

“What was that?” Miles’s voice finally got through to you, the high-pitched screaming in your ears dying down. You blinked at him as your mind went blank.

“I don’t—” You cut yourself off. Wait, was it..? Had you just..?

“Complete cellular decay.” You recalled Miles’s countless retellings of the multiversal mess that had happened just about two years ago. “I’m glitching, aren’t I?”

“Right, and you know this because..?” Aaron asked, his hands now at his sides but not eased yet. He eyed your face as if he was expecting you to grow a third eye or something. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, this might sound crazy,” You started, “but I’m from another dimension.

“We had something like this happen back home a while back — except, y’know, people came into our dimension rather than people from ours going somewhere else.

“The people that came, they were glitching, too. Their atoms were displaced and decaying.”

“So you’re saying,” Miles spoke up, his grip tightening around your forearms just slightly. “If you stay here too long—”

“I’ll die, yeah.” You said, the reality of the situation hitting you like a KTX. “Disintegrate, to be more accurate.”

Silence filled the flat as all three of you processed the information. Miles was frozen, his gaze fixated on the spot where your hands grabbed onto him as if he was scared you’d disappear if he looked away. Aaron crossed his arms, his eyes darting from left to right like he was reading some invisible text.

As for you, you felt unreal. Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore, your vision more like looking at the screen of a first-person shooter. Were you going to die here? You didn’t want to die yet. What would your dad think? Would he file a police report? Would Miles’s dad send out a search party to look for you? And Miles—

You hadn’t even said goodbye to him at the party.

You hadn’t said goodbye to anyone.

I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t—

“Hey,” Miles says, his voice softer than earlier, snapping you out of your spiral. His hands slide down your forearms and slip into your own, giving them a firm squeeze. “No vas a morir.”

You’re not gonna die.

“Te llevaré a casa.” The boy said, his deep brown eyes bore into yours, slowly bringing you back from feeling like you’re looking at a video game to feeling more like you’re lucid dreaming. It wasn’t a total fix, but it’s a start. “I’ll get you home, I promise.”

You took a deep breath, trying and failing to ground yourself more.

“What’s five things you hear?” Miles asked gently, tilting his head and leaning ever so slightly closer to you. You just blinked, overwhelmed with everything.

“Mi vida,” he said again. “Five things.”

You paused for a moment.

Sirens outside.

Yelling from the streets.

Chains clinking in the breeze from the open window.

Aaron shuffling around in the other room. When had he left?

The buzzing of the lights overhead.

“Good.” Miles said encouragingly. “Now, four things you see.”

Miles.

A pan on the kitchen stove.

The DJ table by the windows.

Tio Aaron pulling out the couch to make a sofa bed.

“Three things you can touch here.”

Miles.

The ground if you bent down, you guessed.

Some trinkets on the table just over there, but you’re not gonna touch that.

“Two you can smell?”

Rusted metal. There’s tons of it around; on the walls, the ceiling, tables, even on the shelves. What was that chest plate doing back there, anyway?

That pool smell, which is kinda gross since it came from the chlorine in pool water mixed with all the gross stuff that came from human bodies.

Miles smiled as you said that. “Vuelves a mí, mi sol.” He squeezed your hands again. “One thing you can taste.”

“I dunno, soda? We had a ton of it at the party.” You wiggled your fingers. It was like you were stepping into your body for the first time — nothing was a perfect fit just yet, like a pair of knitted gloves with too much room at the ends of the fingers. You’d have to get used to it again.

It’s then that Aaron called Miles over, the boy reluctantly leaving your side and following his uncle to the other room. He told you to make yourself comfortable on the couch before he went, though, so that’s exactly what you did. The spring cushions feel oddly comforting under you, the familiarity of home twisted just slightly out of proportion.

There’s really nothing to do alone here. You tapped your fingers on your leg. Thankfully, Miles and Aaron came back after just a few minutes.

The first thing the boy said to you, “I’m gonna get you home.” A firmer, more certain repetition of his promise from a minute ago, albeit there’s a bit of a strain in his voice as if it physically hurt him to say it. In a clumsy yet swift motion, he quickly leaned down and kissed your cheek before making his exit rather hurriedly.

You felt the heat rush to your face, your hand coming up almost immediately to touch the spot.

Aaron chuckled and shook his head.

“So,” he said. “You as smart as she was, too?”

You tinkered with the gauntlet of a prototype suit that Aaron had dug out of storage somewhere, the man himself working on the main body. The helmet — or was it more of a mask? It was a bit bulkier than Miles's Spider-Man mask, a bit more tech-y. Probably more similar to an Iron Man helmet, now that you think about it, albeit lower in its level of advancement — was plugged into one of the many monitors strewn about the flat.

You'd managed to pry a couple bits of information out of him for the past few hours (during which you hadn't glitched again, thankfully) in exchange for some of your own. So far you knew that this universe’s Jefferson Morales had passed away a few years ago, prompting Miles to take on the mantle of the Prowler to avenge his father’s death — the details of which he stayed frustratingly vague on — and, later on, to keep the city as safe as he could.

“Wait, wait, who’s your Spider-Man, then?”

“Who’s Spider-Man?”

You blinked in confusion. “What? You don’t have a Spider-Person?”

“What, like, a part-spider guy? Nah. Scorpion’s mostly bug though, that count?”

This dimension didn’t have a Spider-Man. That was why the city was so overrun with bad guys.

You gave him a general rundown of the whole ‘radioactive spider’ thing and moved on.

Your own variant, who was Miles’s best friend and had helped make a lot of his gear, had disappeared a while after the Prowler started taking out some bad guys that were a step above villain-of-the-week, the ones who had all sorts of shady connections. Hearing about your presumed death was a strange experience.

“We know they took her,” The older man had said, jamming his screwdriver into a faulty part of the suit. “But the cops are all in on it ever since the Cartel bought ‘em out. Declared her dead after less than 24 hours.”

Oh, speaking of, apparently there was a team of villains bringing Gotham to life in New York, Brooklyn being the heart of it all. How fun.

The Sinister Six Cartel, as the Bugel had dubbed them, was the one Aaron and Miles believed to be behind your variant’s disappearance. The two were certain that the Cartel had worked out a connection between you and the Prowler. The nail on the coffin was when they sent a body double of you in the Prowler’s direction to mess with his head just a couple months ago, complete with some sort of Face Off style mask that made it possible for the fake to look exactly like you. It was only a day or two before Miles figured out it was a setup, but it had shaken him up pretty bad.

“I thought you were another one.” He’d admitted. “But then you did the whole glitchy thing. Looked horrible, by the way, real nasty. It hurt much?”

“You have no idea.”

In return, you told him about home. You told him how Miles’s dad was up for a promotion, practically Captain already. You told him about your Miles’s art and how he made a mural of him after his death. You didn’t go into too much detail about the ‘death’ part, focusing more on the peaceful aspects since it was so clearly missing from his every day life. You couldn’t really read this Aaron Davis that well since he was more guarded than he had been back home, but you could tell he appreciated it; especially the parts about his brother.

You also told him how Miles and the other Spider-People who were sent to your dimension had worked out a solution to fix their situation, and gave him a brief summary of the whole ordeal, the details of which he texted Miles since he hadn’t given you a chance to tell him about it when he left so hastily. He said something you couldn’t quite make out as he did — you caught the words ‘lab’ and ‘property’, but that was pretty much it. He only waved it off as nothing when you asked him about it.

“How’s my dad?” You asked, pushing your hand into the gauntlet to test if it worked right. It was a near perfect fit, which made you wonder who exactly it was for, since Miles’s hand was bigger than yours. “Is he doing okay? After the whole ‘declared dead’ thing?”

“He’s holding up, just like the rest of us,” Aaron replied, checking on the monitor. “Your mom — her mom’s been sticking around. Grief brings people together and all that. They’re trying therapy.”

A weird feeling bubbled up inside. While it was good to know at least one version of your parents were trying to reconcile, it bothered you that your absence had prompted it. Was that what was happening right now back home? Had your disappearance magically brought your parents back together? Had it even been long enough for that to happen, or did time flow equally throughout the multiverse?

…

Would it be better for them if you just didn’t go back at all?

“Oh.” You said, nodding slightly as you flexed and wiggled your fingers in the gauntlet, watching the way it moved. It was a lot thinner than the claws that adorned the Prowler’s hands from what you’d spotted here and there in the flat, built to be stealthier in the way it functioned. There were no clunks or clinks, just soft whirring noises that sounded almost like a cat’s purr. “That’s good, I guess.”

It was worse this time around, which you didn’t even know was possible. You felt yourself being split in a billion different directions, parts of you re-atomizing not quite in the right places. You’d never known the feeling of having space between where all your joints were supposed to connect, but now you did, and it honestly made you want to die. Not really. Well…

Miles came back sometime before dawn. You heard the door opening slowly, almost like he was trying not to wake his parents up as he was sneaking in past curfew. Not that he used the door ever since he could climb walls, but still.

He crept into his uncle’s flat, even leaving his shoes at the door so he wouldn’t make too much noise. He was making his way to the other room when he looked at you on the couch, only to flinch in surprise when he saw your eyes were open.

“¿Qué haces despierto?” He whispered, his shoulders tenser than earlier from the split second of adrenaline. “It’s late.”

“What are you doing that you have to sneak in?” You whispered back. The boy just shrugged.

“Oh, you know…” He trailed off, looking around to avoid your questioning gaze. “…Stuff.”

You rolled your eyes. “That has gotta be the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Miles huffed, shuffling over to you and sitting down on the floor in front of the couch, facing you. “Yeah, well, I asked you first. Why’re you up, hermosa?”

You sighed. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the thought of my impending doom, maybe.”

A couple beats passed by without a word from either of you, a bit of awkwardness hanging in the air, though it was accompanied by a familiar sense of comfort.

“Do you trust me?” Miles asked, his hand reaching out to gently grab a corner of the blanket draped over you.

“Probably.” You replied. You hadn’t known him long enough to trust him just yet, as much as you wanted to. The corners of his lips tilted up just a bit in an almost smile.

“Then trust that I’ll do whatever it takes to get you home.” He said. “I already lost you once, I’m not letting that happen again.”

The next day was pretty uneventful. For the most part, anyway, if you don’t count the random glitching throughout. You were advised heavily against going outside since the Cartel had eyes everywhere, so your area of activity was limited to the flat. Miles had evidently snuck back out after your little talk the night before, which made you feel a tinge disappointed since you wanted to get to know him better. Fortunately, Aaron said you could help with the suit again.

The TV played in the background as you tapped on the keyboard, giving the helmet a few final touch-ups as the sun set outside the window. J. Jonah Jameson jabbered on about this week’s biggest disasters and lamented about how ‘if only there was a hero to save this city’, which made you snort.

“He’s gonna switch up real quick if a hero does show up,” You remarked to Aaron, who looked at you questioningly. “The guy hates Spider-Man back home.”

“What, Jameson?” He said, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, he’s the biggest Captain America fanboy out there. Loves heroes an’ all that.”

He thought for a moment. “Pretty sure Miles saw him at Comicon that one time too.”

“What’s a Comicon?”

Unfortunately, you never got the answer as you heard the lock on the door slide open. You spun around in your chair to greet Miles as you knew he was supposed to be coming by sometime in the evening, but your friendly smile quickly faded as his expression turned to one of shock, catching a glimpse of what the two of you were working on.

The boy froze as he stared, wide-eyed, at the suit. “Tio,” He said, looking at Aaron as he clenched his jaw. “What’s that doing out?”

“She needs a suit.” The older man answered simply.

“What?” Both you and Miles asked, though you could tell it was for vastly different reasons.

“We need to get into Alchemax to get her home, and we can’t do that unless she has protection.”

“Which is why I came here to make a plan!” Miles shouted, his hands moving animatedly, the way your Miles's always did when he got upset. “Eso, eso no le pertenece. ¡No es para ella!”

They had a back and forth as the pieces came together as to why Miles was so upset.

The suit was supposed to be for you.

His you.

You were, essentially, fixing up a dead girl's clothes to wear.

“The Cartel isn't stupid, Miles,” Aaron tried to make the boy see his point. “Even if we somehow made a distraction big enough for the big ones to leave base, there's still gonna be someone left to guard it. Would you be able to live with yourself if she got hurt? Or worse—”

“Don't.” Miles's nails dug into his palms, leaving dark cresent moons in their wake. Aaron sighed.

“If she got hurt, you'd feel like that's on you. If you got hurt protecting her 'cause she doesn't have anything to protect herelf with, then I'd feel like that's on me.” He said, his features softening as he reasoned with his nephew. “This is the best bet.”

“We could build her a new suit—”

“And take what? Couple days? A week? Two weeks?”

He glanced at you, Miles following his gaze towards you as well. You knew what was implied. The only people you knew this happened to had gone maybe over a week before the glitching became a real problem, and they were superhuman. Who knew how long you had?

“She can wear mine. We have a ton of old ones, I'll just take one of those—”

“I'm not gonna let you get hurt for her, kid.”

“Don't call me that.”

They went back and forth for a while, and eventually Miles went to the other room to cool off and think things through. Aaron sighed, wiping a hand across his face.

“No offense.” He said to you.

“None taken.” You replied, not really knowing what to do. It felt wrong for you to be tinkering with something that was so clearly not meant for you, even if it was for a variant of yourself.

You could hear Miles pacing the other room, muttering to himself.

“Maybe I could...” You trailed off.

“You could try talking him into it,” He suggested. “He'll listen to you more than me right now.”

“...Should I, though?” You couldn't even begin to imagine what Miles was feeling. All this multiverse shit was too damn complicated.

“Look, kid, I know it's weird.” Aaron said, shoulders sagging just a bit. “But this—” he pointed to the suit— “is the best way to make sure no one gets hurt. Trust me.”

There was something he wasn't telling you, but he didn't have to for you to know what it was. Miles thought you were alive, somewhere out there. You knew it was entirely possible that he blamed himself for your disappearance, as it was your own version of him's go-to for anything and everything that went wrong. The shadows under his eyes, that look whenever he saw you... you wondered how many nights he'd spent outside, looking for some trace of you, a new lead to follow. Especially since your arrival.

Aaron thought this was the best chance Miles would ever get to let go of you. To get some sort of closure by sending you home.

“…I'll try.” You finally agreed, getting up from your seat and shuffling to the other room. You hesitated before going in, but the lack of a door made it awkward to linger, so you just bit the bullet and walked inside.

The room in question was more of a faux-veranda (which explained the no-door thing); a long, narrow space separated from the main living area by a sheet of drywall, with one of the wider walls filled with shelves of CDs and albums and the other decorated sparingly with old band and movie posters along with Miles-brand stickers.

“So...” You said, fiddling with your hands as you took a look around the area. You gestured at one of the stickers on the wall. “Did you make that?”

Slowing to a stop to face you, Miles nodded, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Cool.”

You both stood there in silence for a moment, you working out what to say and Miles trying to come up with some other solution to the problem. The boy had an unhealthy obsession, that much he knew, but he just couldn't bring himself to let go of it. Not when you could be out there, just waiting for him to find you.

“I don't want to push you,” You started hesitantly. “But.. I think your tìo may be right.”

“I know that.” He looked at his feet as if the dirt on his shoes was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, the sight of him reminisent of a little kid getting scolded by his mother. “I know that.”

“I can't say I understand.. whatever's going through your head right now,” You said, taking a step towards him. “But he just wants what's best for you.”

“What's best for me is finding—” He cut himself off when his eyes met yours, frustration and confusion and stubbornness and sadness and who knows what else all mixing into a big mish-mash of conflicting thoughts inside of him. He clenched his fists, tilting his head up as he tried to think clearly. To his dismay, his throat closed up, the familiar sting of tears pricking at his eyes.

“I need to find her.” He muttered, putting a hand over his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears from falling. It didn't work. “I need to find you.”

“And you will.” You were sure of it. Aaron and Miles were both so sure that their you was alive... she had to be. “But right now? Right now, I need you to help me out.”

He looked at you, his gaze almost spaced out for a moment. You wondered if he saw her in you — if she had the same haircut, the same eyes, the same accent...

You could tell he was frustrated by the way that the scrunch above his nose wouldn’t go away. Hesitantly, you reached out, wiping away the tracks stray tears had left on his cheeks. He stiffened for a moment.

“...Fine.” He finally muttered, a hand coming up to grab your arm, though he seemed unsure if he wanted to push it away or pull it closer. So he just held it in place, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist, the edge of your palm. His posture relaxed, just a bit. “Okay.”

Two days later, it wasn't too dark when the plan set into action.

Security at Alchemax — once belonging to Kingpin, now in posession of the Sinister Six Cartel — was thinnest sometime around six to seven pm, when dinner breaks, shift changes and the checkout of regular scientists were prominent.

Miles and Aaron had each set up time bombs at multiple smaller warehouses the Cartel used for storage, each coordinated to go off within minutes of each other. With little to no heroes or police in the way, the Cartel had no reason to keep their lesser important stocks well-guarded, which made it easy to sneak explosives into some of the shipments, support beams and pipes.

Once the explosions were set off, Aaron would use some rip-off Mysterio tech to make projections of some new vigilante gang, with each fake member leading the forces of the Cartel away from Alchemax. During this went on, Miles would sneak you in and to the Super Collider (which, surprisingly, had not been scrapped since its change of ownership) through the vents—

“Wait, wait, isn’t there like, a tunnel that can get us directly to the Collider?” You’d asked, remembering what Miles had told you when he first told you how he became Spider-Man.

“It got sealed off.” Aaron had said. “Some sort of supercharged electromagnetic thing. They did that with all the major underground entry points. Can’t shut it off without blacking out half of Brooklyn.”

“Or getting fried.” Miles had said. “The generators powering each point are all hooked up together a single system, como una mente colmena. You attack one of ‘em directly, all the others shoot a billion bolts of energy into you. And we don’t have time to hack into and get past the firewall to shut the thing down.”

—which you would navigate by memorizing a blueprint of Alchemax that had been conveniently leaked in a mass Cartel server leak a couple months ago. Miles would then plug in the goober he, Aaron and you had made using information gathered via Aaron's 'friends', and send you home.

It was a simple mission. Maybe a bit too simple, but you didn't really have much a choice when you were on a time crunch with limited information. Besides, Occam's razor.

“Copy?” Aaron's voice asked from your earpiece.

“Copy.” You answered, followed by Miles from his own communicator.

“A-6 is a go in 3.. 2...”

Boom.

A couple blocks away, a cloud of dust shot into the air. The building you and Miles were on the roof of shivered slightly as storage unit A-6 blew up.

“A-27.”

Boom.

“C-15.”

Boom.

From your vantage point, you had a clear view of what was going on at Alchemax without the risk of anyone down there catching a glimpse of you. You could see the non-combat scientists scrambling to get to their cars and the armed guards being led by weirdly dressed villains in the direction of the explosions. Although you supposed you weren't quite qualified to comment on the 'weirdly dressed' part at the moment, since you and Miles weren't much better in your respective suits.

Speaking of, Miles hadn't talked much ever since he first saw you wearing the suit. His responses were short if he even gave one, although you could feel him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking.

Miles fixed the gauntlet on his hand one last time before shuffling closer to you. “Ready?”

His voice sounded strange to you, his actual voice coming through your earpiece overlapping with the voice coming through his modulator.

“Mhm.”

“Going in.”

You hooked your arms around his shoulders and his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight as a grapple shot out of his gauntlet. He used it almost exactly like how Miles used his webshooters, although his actions were a bit more... forceful? Rougher around the edges, if that made sense.

As your feet left solid concrete, the city sped by underneath the both of you, a pretty blend of neon and gray. Your suit prevented you from actually feeling the air whipping by, but a fraction of the wind managed to seep through the cracks, sending a chill down your spine as your stomach dropped at the sudden decline.

For a moment, gravity seemed to disappear. The laws of physics no longer felt like they effected you in any meaningful way. Anything and everything that had been weighing down on you — this whole situation, Miles, demanding schoolwork at Visions, your parents and their myriad of problems — no longer held you down.

It was exhilarating.

Your 'flight', so to speak, was over almost as soon as it started. You tucked your legs as you reached the roof of the Alchemax building, separating from Miles and rolling to lessen the impact. Surprisingly, the move came quite naturally to you, even without practice. You chalked it off as something you'd learned when you were a toddler, when your mom used to sign you up for all sorts of extracurriculars. You were pretty sure martial arts or something had been one of them; maybe you'd learned it there.

Your heart pounded as the sudden rush of adrenaline faded away, and you found yourself wishing it didn't. The thrill was addicting, as was the freedom that came with it. It was like a rollercoaster, or watching How to Train Your Dragon in 4D for the first time, only a hundred times better.

Miles had never taken you swinging. He'd never exactly told you why, always brushing off your request with something like a 'maybe later' or 'I can't right now', but you knew why.

Swinging together was a him and Gwen thing.

And you were fine with that.

What, like you were gonna be jealous about something as small as that? Pfft. No way. Nope. Nada.

“¿Estás bien?” Miles asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You nodded in confirmation.

The two of you pried open a vent using the gloves of your suit, which was easier than you’d expected it to be. To your surprise, the claws that extended from them were very useful.

“We’re in.” You muttered as you crawled into the duct, hoping Aaron wasn’t having any trouble on his end. He’d been awful quiet… Then again, no news is good news on a mission, right?

Miles crawled in after you. “You remember the way?”

“Yeah.”

Together you made your way to the underground levels of the building, miraculously avoiding any possible dead ends or mouse traps. That musty smell of mold and concrete reached your senses as you reached the deeper parts.

There weren’t many people at the Super Collider, thanks to the diversion and timing. Miles gestured for you to stay put as he swiftly dropped out of the vents, knocking out the few guards there one by one with relative ease. It was strange seeing him fight; so similar to yet completely different from him. You were doing as told and observing from the vents until you saw one of the last three people — a scientist, by the looks of it — sneaking up on Miles from behind while he was preoccupied with the two other guards.

You quickly dropped down from your spot, landing behind the guard and catching him by surprise as he whirled around with his weird-techy-science gun. Dropping to the ground, you swept your leg under his, toppling him over and knocking the weapon out of his hands. You were about to knock him out when—

“Peter Parker?”

Are you kidding me?

You were certain it was him. This Peter was scrawnier, his hair more sandy blond than Peter Parker’s back home (before he passed, anyway), and he wore thick, black-rimmed glasses that perched awkwardly on his slightly crooked nose. But the ID that read ‘Peter Parker’ in big bold letters around his neck was a pretty solid indicator.

“…Yes?” He almost squeaked out.

Meanwhile, Miles had dealt with the two guards, stepping over them to get to the console. “Sácalo y entra ahí.” He called, fumbling a little as he tried to figure out which buttons to push to fire up the Collider.

“We have a bit of a situation..” You said, pulling Peter up by his arm and dragging him to the console as well.

You gave him a hushed explanation of your unwillingness to hurt the guy, and how you believed he was genuinely a good person. After all, this universe was almost the same as yours, right? Peter Parker couldn’t be that different here…

“And besides, he probably knows how to work this thing. It’d be helpful.”

Miles sighed. “…Fine, I won’t knock him out,” He agreed. Turning to Peter, he asked, “How do you start the Collider?”

Peter gulped, everything in his body language screaming ‘I want to run away’. “You- you need codes,” He stammered out. “Approval codes, from—”

“Don’t care.” Miles cut him off, giving him a brief glance at the goober. “Just start it. ¿Lo pilla?”

Peter nodded hastily and got to work, pressing buttons and switching levers as you made your way down to the Super Collider. There was a catwalk that ran from one side of the machine to the other, connecting the two mechanisms. If you got to the middle of it, you could jump off and into the portal once the Collider was at full output. Sure enough, its huge metal plates clinked and clattered as they slowly sprung to life.

This was it. You were finally going home.

Just then, you heard a thunk along with some choice words in Spanish, and looked over to the source to see Peter out cold on the ground.

“He got to the panic button!” Miles said, scowling to himself as he plugged in the goober, praying that this plan would work out in the next minute or so. Bubble-like particles appeared at the two points of the machine that faced each other, the noise it emitted now making it so that you could only properly make out what Miles was saying through your earpiece.

The Collider whirred and sputtered as the bubbles grew bigger and brighter, eventually bursting into two beams of light that met each other in the middle, creating one big sphere with a bunch of little bubbles going in and out of it and surrounding it. The sphere grew larger and larger until it collapsed in on itself, sprouting thin, curvy lines.

The thing grew bigger and bigger until it was about the size of a person, you could feel it starting to pull you in. You just had to wait for Miles’s go ahead—

Ow.

What the hell?

You were suddenly sprawled on the ground, something having tackled you at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. That something — or rather, someone — skid to a halt just a few feet away from you, dragging a hand across the tiled floor and leaving… scratch marks?

Scrambling to your feet, you crouched in a defensive stance as you looked over the newcomer.

There wasn’t a single inch of skin showing, their suit covering the whole of their person. The suit in question was mostly white, with some gray sprinkled in here and there. It reminded you of Eve from Wall-E or a Stormtrooper, maybe a mix of both. Strangely enough, the mask was just a blank slate; a sleek, white panel with no features or details, kind of like one of those LED face masks.

Overall it was kind of… boring? It didn’t inspire fear nor did it seem very imposing or something of the sort, which you’d think would be a priority for a villain organization. If anything it was bland, the only thing that stood out from the suit being its hands which donned gauntlets that looked similar to yours, but slimmer and more polished, more accurately described as gloves rather than gauntlets. They had claws just like yours, albeit they looked sharper, a bit more gnarled.

“Miles?” You called, your heartbeat quickening. “What’s going on?”

You heard a grunt from his end. You didn’t look to see what was happening, not daring to take your eyes off of your attacker, but you guessed that backup from Peter’s panic signal had arrived.

“What’s going on?” Aaron echoed, his voice slightly fuzzy. Before you could answer, your attacker lunged. You managed to doge a full on body slam, but they grabbed your arm instead, using it to flip you over their body and knocking the wind out of you.

You writhed as you hit the ground, managing to rip your arm out of their grasp and landing a kick on their ankle, causing them to stumble. You took the opportunity to get up and put some distance between the two of you, though you didn’t get far before the lunatic started chasing you. They jumped at you again but you turned around at the last second, and as you were pushed back with their claws digging into your shoulders you kicked both of your legs out into their stomach just as your back hit the ground, sending them straight over your head.

“Tìo, get your nephew, now!” You shouted, rolling away just in time to avoid a punch that landed on the floor where your head had been just a second ago. “It all went to shit, get him out!”

The pull from the Collider was getting stronger, tiny scraps like bolts and papers flying through the air and towards the beam of light. You raced back to the catwalk but were once again stopped by the 29th century Stormtrooper. You yelped as you felt something grab the back of your neck, sharp claws piercing through your suit and digging into your skin as your head was thrown harshly against a metal beam.

And just like that, you were on the ground. Again. What was this, like, the third time? Fourth? Great. Just fantastic.

I’m not even supposed to be here, you thought, grabbing at your opponent’s wrists as their hands wrapped around your neck, slowly choking you. They were stronger than you were, faster, clearly more skilled. What were you thinking? You’re not a fighter — you couldn’t beat them, not like this.

Why was the universe so intent on making you miserable? You were just trying to get home, maybe not die. Not dying would be nice. But no. You couldn’t have nice things, could you? Not your own life, not Miles, your own damn parents were happier in a reality where you weren’t in the picture—

A sudden surge of anger made you lash out. The universe could go fuck itself. You weren’t dying like this. Not when your ticket home was right in front of you.

Your gauntlet caught your attacker’s mask, knocking it off.

You knew that face.

It was the same face that looked back at you every time you looked at a mirror.

Well, not exactly, you supposed. There was a certain roughness in her features, the same as how Miles looked different from Miles. But you’d know those eyes anywhere. But they were… what’s the word, fuzzy? Unfocused? It was like her body was on autopilot while her brain was off in Hawaii or something.

The thing you did next could’ve won you the prize for ‘smartest dumb decision of the year’.

In all your oxygen-deprivated brilliance, you retracted your mask.

It might shake her, was your reasoning. It would confuse anyone to see a doppelgänger in a fight.

Or, you know, it could go totally wrong and she could punch your face in. But you were already getting choked, so, what was there to lose?

And it worked.

Her eyes shifted back into focus as her grip slackened, and you quickly shoved her — or is it you? yourself? — off, gasping for air. You could vaguely make out the outline of a giant scorpion-guy going one-on-one with Miles, who seemed to be holding out pretty well. He was favoring his left hand though, when usually he used his right.

“I— wha—? Where—” You heard from your left. Your alternate universe counterpart looked around the lab, her eyes wide and movements jerky like a wild animal on drugs.

You were about to say something when a loud buzzing came through your comm, which had evidently been damaged in the whole head-beam connection thing. Miles’s voice came through in broken pieces.

“Col— get..t— ov-rload—”

The Collider. The goober could only force an incomplete system to run for so long. Your time was up.

Wonderful.

A flash of blinding light came from the machine as it malfunctioned. The goober could only make an incomplete system work for so long. You were just able to get your helmet back on before everyone in the vicinity was pushed back in an explosion. Was that Aaron—?

After your temporary blindness wore off, you made out the aftermath, a high-pitched ringing in your ear as you dazedly looked around. The glass that separated the control area from the Collider had been shattered, the Scorpion twitching as he tried to get to his feet — did he have feet? Now’s really not the time — There was no sign of Miles or Aaron anywhere, which was either very good or very bad. You decided to believe it was the former for your own sake. A short distance away from you was another you, that one unconscious but still breathing, from the looks of it.

Grabbing your variant, you ripped open a vent on the wall before the Scorpion could take notice of either of you, shoving her in before following suit and placing the vent cover back on. You had to get out of here. Fast.

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