#42!miles x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

liyawritesss · 9 months

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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

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.

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vhstown · 6 months

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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!

#miles g morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #atsv fanfiction #earth 42 miles x reader #prowler miles x reader #miles g morales #miles g #42!miles #miles gonzalo morales #prowler miles #atsv x you #atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #vhstown

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qiupachups · 6 months

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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.

#miles g morales x reader #miles g x reader #prowler miles x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x you #miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv headcanons #atsv miles #atsv x you #atsv fanfiction #chewy writes ♪

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luvmorales · 8 months

Note

making slime or doing artsy things w 1610!miles 🙏🏽

CRAFTY 𐦍

⋆ miles being cute while you show him how to make slime

⋆ contains: fluff, kissing

⋆ a/n: i remember selling slime when i was in 5th grade

you were currently sitting on the floor beside your boyfriend mixing up some glue and detergent as you try and show him how to make slime, miles had never made slime before and was intrigued when you told him what it is

“mamiiii” how come yours is so good” he whines out looking at your perfectly made slime, compared to his gooey mess that wouldn’t cooperate

you grab his bowl and add more activator “baby you need to use more detergent or it’s going to be really sticky” you laugh out continuing to mix everything

“this shit is not for the weak i swear” he says grabbing the bowl back from your hands, “let me do it, this is fun”

“okay but don’t be asking for help when your ass has it all over your hand” you nudge him in the shoulder

you and miles continue to mix it till it is all ready to be played with

“so when you play with it you have to move your hands fast so it doesn't stick to you, okay?” you explained to him even though he thought he’d be a pro already

“okay okay, now let me play with it already” feeling all giddy because he’s never done anything crafty in a while

he takes the smile out of the container thinking he has it all under control till he starts stretching it apart all over his hands

you silently smirk watching him struggle to get it off his hands “miles do you need some help over there” you try and say without laughing

“shut up i got this ma,” he says with a smile on his face still trying until he starts to accept his fate and finally ask you for help

“can you help me get this off please” he mumbles out

“huh sorry? i couldn’t hear what you said” you say letting out a small laugh as you helped him get the rest of the slime off.

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mileshobiehobiemiles · 10 months

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Text imagines with 42!Miles x reader Part 2

#marvel #earth 42 miles morales x you #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles fluff #miles x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #42 miles morales

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h0r0gur4mu · 8 months

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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!!!

#astv x reader #miles morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles x you #aged up miles #hobie brown x reader #miles is 15 #miles morales smut

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brbzonedout · 14 days

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I need the masses to stop writing my baby like he’s some fuck boy!! I CANT DO THIS 😓

#into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles headcanons #42!miles x reader #42!miles

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starandcloud · 9 months

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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

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onginlove · 8 months

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a call for help

pairing: 1610!miles x villian!gn!reader

everyone of all races and genders can read

summary: a unexpected surprise comes when the person you hate comes knocking at your door.

warnings: none, slight mentions of death ( if you squint)

a/n: im so sorry for not posting any fics in a long time. im very proud of this one! please tell me if you want a part 2 because I might make it 🤭

reblogs and likes are appreciated ❤️

masterlist | not taking requests

you were in your living room, watching (f/m) for about the 5th time in a row. you haven’t encountered spiderman in a while which is crazy because he was always following you trying to fight you.

you always headed home with bruises and wounds with sometimes deep cuts. you and spiderman always had big, heated fights that always ended in someone almost dying, almost.

when it reached the good part of the movie, you heard a knock at the door. you weren’t expecting any company and everyone you knew was already sleeping at this time.

as you took slow, quiet steps to the door, you picked up a bat for safety reasons because you have been in contact with some people’s bad side.

you looked through the peep-hole of your door but you couldn’t see anything much as it was currently raining with very black clouds.

you quickly unlocked and opened the door, position the bat into a swing position until you saw who was at the door.

“spiderman..?” your eyes grew bigger in shock with how he was even able to find you.

“how… did you find me?”

“i put a tracker on you.” he said, holding his waist as if he is injured.

once you noticed that his arm was holding his waist, you continued to look around his body, seeing many cuts, blood spots, what looks like deep wounds, and some very bad scrapes.

“i got into this fight with someone powerful and uh, im very beaten up and didnt know where else to go.”

you lowered you bat and dropped it on the floor with loud clanking sounds followed with it.

“i..”

he lost his balance and started falling forwards towards you. you quickly caught him and stared at him for a minute.

i can’t just leave him like this..

you attempted to carry him and place him on your couch, lowering him down as slowly as possible, trying not to make him hurt anymore.

i shouldn’t be helping him…

you went to your bathroom to find a first-aid and quickly went back to the living room the help out spiderman.

you took alcohol and a cotton ball and dabbed some on his wounds, which led him to make a slight movement. you took gauze and wrapped up his wound after words and took bandages for his small cuts.

you saw that there was some rips in his mask which meant you would have to take it off and see his face. with hesitation, you took the hem of his mask and lifted it up to see miles morales, someone you’ve known from brooklyn vision academy.

oh no… no no no.

you quickly put the bandages on his face and pulled back down his mask, wishing you’ve never seen that. you turned off the tv and saw that he looked like he was asleep. you grabbed a blanket for him and turned off the living room light.

you headed for your room and went under you covers, positioning yourself for comfort to go to sleep.

hopefully, tomorrow won’t be so bad and he will forget this ever happened...

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dapper-zappa · 9 months

Text

I love you Miles Morales (42 and 1610) x Reader writers, I love you Gwen Stacy x Reader writers, I love you Hobie Brown x Reader writers, I love you Pavitr Prabakhar x Reader writers, I love you Miguel O’Hara x Reader writers, I love you Peter Parker (MCU/Raimi/TASM) x Reader writers, I love you Peter B x Reader writers, I love you Spider Noir x Reader writers, I love you Jess Drew x Reader writers, and I love you Ben Reilly x Reader writers for being lifesavers 💖

DNI IF YOU WRITE SMUT FOR MINORS OR ARE A PROSHIPPER.

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liyawritesss · 7 months

Note

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

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.

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vhstown · 7 months

Text

ain't no love; pt. 1

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

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 PART 1 / PART 2 →

chapter summary: [READER POV] The one day you decide to skip breakfast, your deskmate comes in. AP Calc has never been more unbearable — and interesting.

content/warnings: brief mentions of death, depictions of hunger, a little bullying </3

word count: 4.8k

a/n: first series idk what im doing BUT WE ROLL (criticisms accepted lmao) proofread courtesy of @qiuweyballs you're a real one

You were starving. In AP Calc, no less, with probably the least talkative bunch of students in the whole school, the period before lunch. Whoever made your schedule was a monster, and whoever put this class together was even more of a monster. Everyone was dead silent, which was usually fine, but not when your stomach was threatening to detonate a nuclear grumble. Maybe it’d even echo given how big the classroom was. It was too early in the year to have a mental breakdown, though — you’d save that for midterms.

Even the teacher found the silence awkward, muttering to himself as you walked into the dreary classroom. He was a bit of a pushover, Mr. Wellston — a newbie who really had no idea what he was doing besides fixing his unevenly cut hair every two seconds while everyone pretended to know what was going on. God bless AP Calculus; you didn’t even know how to do the starter activity on the board.

But your teacher’s ridiculous inadequacy didn’t matter right now. The most important decision you had to make was what poor soul you were going to look at sideways when everyone turned to the source of the growl. Being nice wasn’t exactly an option when you were 3 seconds away from dying of starvation.

Thankfully, you were at the back, and the only seat next to you was empty. It wasn’t so bad, you tried convincing yourself as other students started to fill up the seats in front of you. Maybe you'd even forget about how hungry you were if you engrossed yourself in "one of the most riveting fields of mathematics", as advertised by your freshman year math teacher. Just one hour. You could hold back your hunger for one hour.

"Attendance..." Wellston murmured, looking around the room without much attention. It was reasonable to assume was here as usual, except for one kid who'd been absent since the first week. "Morales" — you didn't know his first name, not like you had the chance to learn it.

Scribbling down whatever activity there was, a part of you was glad this kid wasn't here today. It was one less person to hear the result of your unfortunate choice to not have breakfast this morning. You'd never spoken to the kid, but everyone knew why he wasn’t here. The renowed "hero", PC Davis had passed away — his dad. It was all over the news: "PDNY OFFICER DIES SAVING A CHILD", around mid-freshman year. You couldn't guess what was going on with the kid almost 2 whole semesters into sophomore year, but you couldn’t exactly think too hard when your pen had barely touched the page, and your other hand was clawing into the side of your shirt.

You were sure your stomach was going to growl, and loud. And your teacher was looking at you. Pretty much every muscle in your face was straining. You probably looked insane, which you’d actually rather be right now. The worst he would make was a bad joke, but the sheer panic that rose in your chest when Mr. Wellston started to walk towards you made your heels dig into the ground, ready to bolt out the class. You were exhausted, anxious, praying to anything you could think of that your teacher would just turn around and stop looking at you and—

Creak... Everyone's eyes, including Mr. Wellston's, turned to the door. You could make out someone with a black jacket — teacher? They wouldn’t let you wear jackets inside. Not important. Water.

"Nice seeing you here, Morales," Wellston said, his expression as unamused as he could attempt. The pushover was feeling confident today.

You drank so much water that it got stuck in your throat for a moment, making you scrunch up your face. "I'd take off that jacket if I were you,” Wellston continued.

The boy obliged with an incoherent mumble, stepping into the classroom and slipping off his jacket. His eyes landed on the seat right next to you. Even if he wasn't looking at you, something about his gaze made you look away immediately. Great. 53 minutes until lunch. Why did he have to show up today? Why did you wake up late and skip breakfast? A part of you was telling you it’d be better to not blame it on this guy either — maybe it was your gut. Ha-ha. Maybe you were insane.

Screeech! The slap of a notebook next to you snapped you out of your mini-spiral. You were now all the more aware of the boy next to you. His attendance was so low that it competed with your will to live, so you couldn’t help but look. His hair was in two braids slipping just past his collar, but that’s all you dared to notice. They were kind of cool, you admitted to yourself. The muttering was quickly shut down by a grating "Focus!" from Wellston, and you tried to get back to your work.

Calculus, calculus... When was the last time you’d gotten a question right? All you could do was keep uselessly pressing the fraction button on your calculator, watching the empty boxes stack up. It felt like he was staring at you. Math, come on, you know math. What was the probability he was looking at you? What if he was just glancing at you? What was his eye colour? Black or dark brown, probably. You could check — if he was staring, of course. Not his eye colour. That'd be weird.

That tight feeling built up in your stomach like the foreshock of an earthquake. You pictured yourself slamming your head into the desk, far too vividly to be normal — like an insane person. No need to traumatise the “new” kid on his first day back.

"Alright class, considering we have a full house now," You stopped yourself from imagining Wellston’s head slammed into a desk. "I suggest you all try to solve this problem. It's the hardest question that's ever come up on Calc BC, and you're getting secret access to it."

Yeah, like you cared. This man did not have a lesson plan, as usual. Now you had to fight the urge to look at the kind of cool kid next to you, fight your hunger like a famished Victorian child and fight the stupid calculations forming a jumbled mess in your brain. You were fighting a lot of things, and losing miserably. Just looking at the question made your brain hurt, and you could see it in the rest of your class too. All Calc BC nerds who were just now realising their mistake in taking this class with this particular teacher, probably. Visions was a scam.

"Does anyone have an answer?" It hadn't even been two minutes; it was like the man just wanted to feel smarter than everyone else. Something about him today was even more annoying than the pitiful jokes he usually came up with �� just because a "new" kid came in? Maybe this was to make up for the first day of class where he totally embarrassed himself mumbling all lesson, the bell ringing overtop of him.

The awkward silence and the slight cocky curl to the corner of Mr. Wellston's mouth made you question why they hired someone who was fresh out of college to teach you the classes that were supposed to get you into college. Your frustration only grew when you were going in circles with your attempt.

"No? Guys, you that you have a midterm soon." Helpful.

"This is more simple than you think." Explain it, then?

"Nobody? Really? Okay, you really should start paying attention, the―"

"Six." You almost forgot about the kid next to you until he spoke up. He put down his pen, giving Wellston an expectant look while the whole class was silent.

"…Six what?"

"Litres per hour."

The man quickly shuffled to his computer. Of course he didn't know the answer either.

"Six litres per hour," Wellston confirmed. No other kid had a chance to retort. Wellston seemed surprised for once. A part of you was surprised too at how simple the answer sounded when it came out of the "new" kid's mouth. You noticed that the boy didn't even have a calculator.

"Well, it looks like you all have something to learn from Morales here," he continued, something almost like contempt in his words. "Do you want to explain how you got that?"

The boy went about explaining it pretty simply, almost like he was reading off of a script. It was concise, different to what you'd learnt. Something about chain rule, which you truthfully had no idea how to actually use because someone didn't bother to go through it properly. Even if you were still somewhat unsure, it sounded easy enough.

"Interesting method..." Wellston murmured, trailing off for a moment. "Well, that settles it then. Do you guys understand how we got six?"

We? This guy... Aside from the fact that he was looking at you a little too much for comfort (probably because you were still clutching your stomach like you’d been shot) you had another reason to be annoyed by this teacher and his stupid hair. Everyone just returned his question with silent nods and mumbles, people taking opportunities to actually look at the calc-wiz.

You took a chance too, looking over at his seemingly unbothered face. You were almost right about the brown eyes. They were more coppery than anything, maybe even a little green. If he was staring before, you couldn't tell, his gaze trailing his desk with disinterest. Why did his eye colour even matter?

Forty minutes of class to go. You felt like you could eat your calculator at this point. The mystery kid didn't seem to need one anyway, and you weren’t getting much use out of it.

BRIIIIIIIIIING!

"The bell doesn't―" The screeching of chairs cut him off.

Like that would work this far into the semester. The Morales kid was already gone by the time you'd stood up. Letting out a drawn-out sigh, you debated between your tiredness and hunger. Would you try to fight to the death to get to the front of the lunch queue? All you wanted was food, maybe a nap afterwards, definitely no more calculus.

That couldn't happen, of course. For some reason, you were the only one left in class. You heard your name, wincing a little as you stopped in your journey out of the door.

"I just want to speak for a moment, spare me a few minutes?" You figured this was coming. It looked like he wanted to speak to you about something all class; his expressions weren’t exactly mysterious like that new kid. You wanted nothing more than to strangle him with his ugly patterned tie as you walked over to him.

Mr. Wellston leaned on his desk by his elbows, lowering his voice as if he was about to tell you something serious.

"You're not doing very well in this class." Okay… not that serious. "It’s the longer questions, I think. FRQs.”

Your grogginess made it impossible to focus on Wellston’s rant, but what you did pick up on was his weird accent. You guessed he wasn’t from Brooklyn, but the way he was talking right now let you pick up on the strange intonation in his voice you otherwise wouldn’t care to notice. Almost European-sounding. First that kid's eye colour and now your teacher's accent... what was it with you and random details today?

"So..." he continued, looking up at you with his head still low. "I'm going to start an extra class after school. I want you to come to it." Okay, this is worse. You couldn't have lunch, and now you couldn't even have after school.

"When is it?" It better not be some unreasonable time.

"Well, I've only got Friday afternoon free. You know how it is, meetings..." If he was trying to be apologetic, or convincing, he was failing at both. "I'll call you in later to discuss it further."

You just nodded, the grip on your backpack tightening. "Okay."

"It's important that you come!”

His voice was drowned out by the flood of students in the hall as you shut the door, turning on your heel to head to the cafeteria. The line was probably impossibly long by now. You couldn't care less about that extra Friday class. Forget college. You'd be a bum, or work at a WcDonalds. You'd probably make more money than Mr. Wellston there anyway. Forget Visions.

Forget that Morales kid who was standing outside the door all that time while you were too frustrated to notice.

You slumped down onto an empty table as you tried to rid your mind of him.

The probability that he'd show up to class with his cool braids and coppery-green eyes again was too low for you to care anyway.

"Soy Miles. Miles Morales."

Calc-wiz, or Miles as you just found out, was also in your Spanish class, and was also sitting directly behind you. It seemed like he was coming into more classes than he had been all semester — good for him?

"Morales… ¿Eres hispano, Miles?" (Are you Hispanic, Miles?) Miles simply nodded while Mrs Hernández flicked through the worksheets, licking her finger to set them down on individual desks. Spanish was one of the classes you actually liked. Apart from your classmates, Mrs Hernández was funny, and a good teacher, even if she was a little strict.

She paused for a moment to look at Miles again, eyebrow raised. "¿Guatemala?"

"Puerto Rico." The woman's raised eyebrow fell along with the rest of her expression, eyes narrowing in disappointment. She was always talking about where she was from, Guatemala. You found it kind of endearing, though you weren't sure if she'd get any teaching done if there was another kid from there.

"All these years y nadie de Guatemala..." (and nobody from Guatemala...) She simply frowned, cracking her knuckles while making her way back to the front. Most of the people taking AP Spanish were Hispanic, just trying to get extra credits, but it seemed like Mrs. Hernández was out of luck when it came to finding her natural favourite. "Vale clase, quiero que miren este articulo sobre―" (Okay class, I want you to look at this article about―)

All that class you felt like Miles was staring at the back of your head, of course. If he wasn't uncomfortably silent, he was conversing with Mrs Hernández, and she came over more than once to talk to him behind you. As much as you wanted to overhear, they were talking too quietly and quickly — and in Spanish. What they were talking about wasn't your business — most likely about his absence. You had also no idea what this article was talking about. It was something about art, but most of the words you were reading were unfamiliar as your highlighter hovered uselessly over the paper.

It had almost been a week since Miles first came in. You constantly saw him get pulled out of class or talking to teachers — except in AP Calc; it seemed like he was doing just fine there. He could speak Spanish fine too, but was behind on everything else. Other than teachers, he never really talked to anyone. You occasionally saw him with his earbuds on in the hallways, but more often his jacket was what got him chased down by teachers; the kid didn’t really seem to care. Good for him. He was probably more ahead of you anyway given the way your studies were going.

“Oye, look a little alive!” You noticed Mrs Hernandéz standing over you, and that your highlighter bleeding through the paper from pressing too long. A half-hearted “lo siento” (sorry) is all you could offer. “Extraño (strange) — What's different today, chicos? Is it because you’ve got a new friend here?” She crossed her arms, eyeing everyone with her brows knitted together.

The atmosphere around Miles was strange. Not only was he known for being missing since freshman year, but also for his late father. It wasn’t a secret, as much as he didn’t talk about it. Everyone could tell from the way teachers whispered to him and how he disappeared to the counsellor’s office that he wasn’t treated like any other student here. In fact, he didn’t even live in the dorms according to what you’d heard. He was quiet, but the rumours were undeniably loud. You tried not to involve yourself — you hadn’t even spoken to him yourself, anyway.

“He’s not the only Puerto Rican. You gonna forget about us, Señora?” The voice made you hold back a sigh. When Rafael started speaking there was no stopping him. You figured it was time; no matter how far he was moved from his friends, he always found a way to talk to them from the other side of the classroom. He was also right next to you. You had a few reasons to want to drop this class, and each of them were all going “yeah” in agreement to what Rafael had to say.

“I think you’ve forgotten that you have an article in front of you, Rafa.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at your teacher’s words, and nickname. To your dismay, Rafael noticed you immediately.

“You makin’ fun of me, bro?” He turned his head to stare at you.

“Rafael,” Hernandéz warned.

“Nah, Señora, you don’t get it, I should be sitting over there.”

She wasn’t amused by the way he was gesturing to his friends. “I’ll kick you out.”

“Come on man…” He just threw up his hands and sunk into his far too tiny chair. You prayed he wouldn't start rocking on it and make that god-awful creaking sound. Mrs. Hernández simply turned to ignore him and continue with class.

“Why’s he special anyway?” Rafael mumbled to himself. “Famous cause of his dad?”

Tension – it was so thick you could cut it. The only thing that was cutting through it, apart from your Spanish teacher’s rant, was Miles’ gaze. You could feel it burning right through you. It seemed like Rafael, the moron, for some twisted reason, wanted Miles to hear that.

If you had anything to say at all, it was too late to give Rafael a piece of your mind. Considering how quickly he'd shut you down, it would be useless to stick up for some kid you barely knew. Nobody else heard Rafael anyway; it'd just pit everyone against you. Still, a part of you felt bad. Even though you didn’t really know Miles, he was in a lot of your classes. You’d gotten used to his presence over the past week: moving out of the way so he could get to his seat, occasionally picking up each other’s fallen pens, giving unshared glances to see how the other was doing on the work.

He seemed nice enough despite the lack of words you'd exchanged, but when you turned a little to fix your chair, the expression you caught was anything but. It was almost scary, if you could make out anything from his darkened features. There was a strange sense of focus in his eyes, like he was calculating something – deliberating. You didn't try to guess what, keeping silent and trying to listen to Mrs. Hernández talk about the article while ignoring the deadly gaze simmering behind you.

If you were stronger, scarier, more influential, maybe you’d punch one through Rafael right now. Just looking at him was irritating, and it's not like you hadn't thought of it before. Maybe you wouldn’t have to, though, because it seemed like Miles was thinking the exact same thing. As much as you wanted to learn Spanish and not have a fight happen right next to you, it’d be nice if he was able to teach Rafael to shut up instead of the material he didn't seem to care about.

Miles didn’t look particularly strong — he was kind of scary-looking right now, but that didn’t mean he could take on a 6ft tall football player, no matter how pissed off said football player made him. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but Miles stayed put for the rest of class; it felt like a sniper was right behind you.

The all-too-familiar creak of the chair made you automatically grit your teeth.

“Oy, mi pana, you got gum?” Rafael murmured to you in his worst friendly voice. It was 10 minutes till the end of class, and he was asking now? You still had no idea what pana meant since he moved next to you, but the way he said it always made you feel icky regardless.

You quickly shook your head, getting a sigh out of him. You hoped he’d give up, but he just leaned over to whisper to you. “What do you think of that dude, huh?

“What?”

“Strange, yeah?”

“He’s okay.” Your defence was quiet, but it was the most you could do as you heard Miles scribbling right behind you.

“He’s drawing, dude.”

You looked at him almost incredulously. Rafael just rolled his eyes.

“Why do you care?” Your voice came out louder than you wanted.

“¡Silencio!” You gave Mrs. Fernandez, another one of your muffled “lo siento”s, shrinking into your seat as her eyes locked onto you. Snickering from Rafael’s friends only fuelled the embarrassment surging through your cheeks. Miles shuffled in his seat behind you, followed by the sound of paper being crumpled up. You wanted to crumple up the smug expression plastered on Rafael's face right now.

Class ended with another stack of homework in your backpack, and you were more than happy to leave. Free period — you could get a start on the homework. Or talk to Wellston about that extra class. The thought made you wince, but you didn’t exactly have a choice. You had to see him by the end of the day.

“Ay, Milo!” You turned to see Rafael and his little group approaching Miles’ desk. “What’s good?”

“Nothing.” He kept his voice low, pushing his chair under the desk. The boys just laughed as he got up, a grating mix of malice and mirth.

“Right, right. Puerto Rican, eh?” It sounded like Rafael was just talking for the sake of talking. You were also standing for the sake of standing too, of course.

Miles let out a mumble as a confirmation of sorts. Heading for the door, he was blocked by Rafael.

“Ay, where you goin’? Let’s talk, huh? Got a free period?” You could see Miles’ eyes narrow, a flash of impatience in his demeanour before he let out a breath. Rafael was trying to get a kick out of this. A kick out of some kid with a dead dad.

“Someone’s waiting for me.”

“Huh? What’d you say? You got friends?” The start of more laughs were already forming around Miles.

You didn’t know what came over you. Maybe it was the regret of not saying anything earlier, or the strange intrigue you’d felt since a week ago. Peeking your head through the door, you took a step back into the classroom. “Miles, c’mon.”

The gnawing feeling only intensified as you felt four sets of eyes on you at the same time. You’d rather it be hunger than the anxiety coursing through you at that moment.

“Comin',” he murmured, shoving past the three boys towards the door.

The two of you left the classroom, hearing a faint “what the hell man?” as the door fell shut. Miles lingered behind you as you approached the next turn in the hallway.

“What’s your name?” He’d already stepped in front of you.

No thanks or anything? Well, he didn't really owe you anything. It was "the right thing to do", like the many anti-bullying posters around the school encouraged you to do. God damn Visions.

“You uh… know my name.”

“Wanna hear it from you.” His voice had a little twinge of an accent that you hadn’t noticed before. You tried not to think too hard on it. Too many details for too little of an interaction.

“You’ve gotta introduce yourself first — pretty sure that’s how it works,” you tried to joke, something like embarrassment replacing the lingering anxiety in your stomach.

“I did — in class.” Miles’ face was unreadable, but there was something like amusement in his voice.

“Not to me specifically, though.”

The two of you stood in the hallway as people ushered past you. A freshman almost hit you running past, making the two of you retreat to stand beside some lockers. Damn freshmen. You were a freshman only last year, but shoving past them in the cafeteria wasn’t exactly fun. Miles seemed unbothered, as he usually did.

“You seriously don’t know my name?” you continued, almost frowning a little.

“Let’s say I don’t.” He leaned back against the cold blue metal of the lockers, tilting his head at you. The tiny mannerism only made your embarrassment grow. “What’s your name, pana?”

“…I still don’t know what that means.” The frustrated sigh you let out made the corner of his mouth curl up.

“And I still don’t know your name, pana.” No wonder you didn’t bother to talk to anyone. It seemed like you never had the upper hand, first with Rafael and now with Miles. Truthfully, though, you knew which you’d rather talk to.

“Sounds like a food,” you continued, shrugging.

“Could be,” he pretended to muse. And to think you thought he was nice. You hadn’t decided to be annoyed yet, though.

“You know my name, Miles.” You must’ve looked funny the way you crossed your arms and furrowed your eyebrows, because that got an entertained breath out of him.

“Who’s Miles? Haven’t introduced myself yet.” His smirk wrote guilty all over his face.

“Milo, then?” It was a bit harsh, but his cockiness made you say it without much thought. The apology was written on your face already, and you unfolded your arms, deciding you couldn’t have Mrs. Hernandéz’s sass today.

“You wanna be called pana forever?” He slipped an earbud into one of his ears, the blue light flickering into life. At least you didn’t tick him off.

“Not like I care,” you murmured, trying to take a step away.

“Seems like you do.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you asked, trying to keep your tone in check as you glanced down the hallway.

“Do you?” You felt like you were talking into a mirror, one that reflected back a person that got all the more mysterious and annoying when you did.

“Yeah, actually.” Mr. Wellston’s class. The thought made your eyes narrow, probably in exhaustion, most likely in irritation. “Need to speak to a teacher.”

His brow raised in mild interest. “You in trouble?”

“I wish. It’s about some extra class I have to take.”

“Calc?” You turned to look at him again, and his expression was more knowing than curious now.

“How’d you guess…?” It sounded more like a statement, your tone more disappointed than surprised. Were you really that bad at Calculus? Maybe you did need this class, especially if calc-wiz thought so.

“…You have lunch today?” he thought to ask instead. For a moment, you were confused, until you remembered calc last week.

“Shut up.” Your cheeks burned, hand balling up the fabric of your uniform. God. Damn it. All.

“Aight, sorry.”

More silence. You should’ve blamed the growling on him.

“Why the class though? You failing?”

“I’m not failing… Just need some help, I guess” Your shrug wasn’t very reassuring.

“Anyone else goin’?” The longer he kept inquiring, the more you figured Mr. Wellston’s attitude was building up.

“No clue. Bet everyone else is gonna join, though. He’ll probably tell everyone anyway.” The people in your class were quiet, but desperate to out-do each other. Maybe the problem wasn’t you, but the fact that everyone else was trying so hard.

“He didn’t ask me.” The corner of his mouth dimpled into his cheek in thought.

“You’re good at calc anyway.”

“Haven’t been here a while, so I gotta catch up, right? Lemme come with.”

You tried to think of what to say as your hand found the back of your neck, but he was already walking past you. Miles looked back at you to see if you were following.

If he had somewhere to be, it didn’t seem to matter. You noted the slight rhythm to his step, wondering what he was listening to, and if his eyes were green or brown. Ripping away your gaze from him before you could chase that thought, you tried to dodge all the freshmen running around as the bell went for next period.

You had more questions than answers so far — both in your backpack to do this period and in your mind. Aside from Miles, you wondered what that extra class would be like, and what Wellston would say. A part of you hoped that Miles would be in that class with you, despite your less than favourable introduction. Maybe you’d figure out why the answer was six litres an hour. Maybe you could be friends.

What was the probability of that? Some questions couldn’t be solved with a calculator. But Miles didn’t need one, after all.

thank you for reading. im so tired of looking at this but its okay part 1 !!! hooray !!! next chapter is miles pov .... need more Substances in my Bloodstream before i post that though LMAO

reblogs appreciated!!!! go back to the series masterlist here or to my atsv masterlist here :)

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myloveinanotheruniverse · 9 months

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i’m making a 42!miles ai and it’s so fun. i’m still working on getting his personality right and the way i imagine he talks. also trying to get the ai to use spanglish or even use spanish without me having to do it first or prompt it.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles #e42 miles #42!miles #42!miles morales x reader #prowler miles #miles morales prowler #earth 42 miles morales x reader #42!miles x reader #miles morales x you #chat ai #character ai

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luvmorales · 9 months

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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.

#atsv #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales prowler #miles morales #across the spiderverse #miles morales x fem!reader #miles morales x you #spiderman atsv #spiderverse #42!miles morales x reader #42!miles x reader #miles morales earth 42 #miles morales earth 1610 #miles morales 42 x gn

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mileshobiehobiemiles · 10 months

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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?)

#marvel #spiderverse x reader #spiderman #42!miles morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles #miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x you #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader

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l0starl · 6 months

Text

𝐁𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞

-𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙨 𝙄’𝙢 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙮𝙣𝙖 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

‼️𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 3 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲‼️

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬?

sᴏɴɢ: ʙʏ ᴍʏ sɪᴅᴇ (ғᴇᴀᴛ. ᴋᴀᴀsʜ ᴘᴀɪɢᴇ)

ʏᴇs ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs sᴛᴏʀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪs ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ 🌚

Words: 1.6k

PART 2 IS OUT 🥰

You recently moved to Brooklyn, it was a cold day out, the air was crisp, as the chilly breeze blew through the trees. You were currently home running late for school, you already knew your mother was going to scold you for it once again. You fix your outfit in the mirror as you put your hair in Afro puffs. You grabbed your bag and keys and rush out the door. You quickly ran to the bus stop in time for the bus, you took a seat and sighed in exhaustion. You watched out the window seeing beautiful sights as the sunlight hits the window, giving it a soft glow.

After getting off the bus you quickly ran to school since you were still late, you barge through the school doors and pass the crowd of students. You open the classroom door, only to spot your teacher staring at you with a glare.

“Your late, I’m marking your tardy, quickly take a seat!” The teacher scolded.

You nod as you grumble under your breath, you take a seat near the back of the classroom, you weren’t paying attention at all in class, you were about to take a nap like you always do, there was nothing important going on in that class, mostly student’s gossiping, yapping, the usual.

You sometimes took naps in this class but as soon as you heard a faint thud sound, you lifted your head off the desk as you spotted a student.

It was miles, no one has seen him since his dad died, but you always spotted him (making eye contact accidentally every time) with his friends as they snickered, except him. He always had a cold demeanor, he was always the talk of the school, even the girls were interested in him because of his cold attitude.

The teacher gestured him to sit down, pointing next to an empty seat that was right next to you. Hise eyes landed on the seat and walked over and sat down, you examined him from the corner to your eye, His hair was in two braids that reached just past his collar. He wasn’t looking at you, but something about his gaze made you look away.

The class whispered and snicked, you couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, but you can tell it was about miles. His gaze eventually on you, it seemed like he was examine you, which makes sense since you were the only one near his desk. You looked straight ahead hoping not to make eye contact, his gaze went away soon after the teacher started to speak.

“Now class did anyone complete the homework?”

You dig through your backpack realizing you left it at home while you were rushing….Damn it..

The teacher went around the classroom to collect homework, then it was your turn.

“Where’s the homework?” The teacher responded with a scowl

“I um, forgot it at home” you responded

The teacher didn’t buy it, but she went back to her desk and started grading

You sign, knowing your mother isn’t going to be happy with you. After a few minutes nothing was really going on, you spotted miles drawing, your curiosity getting the better of you, you slightly lean over to examine. It was a pretty neat drawing, mostly was sketches of things you weren’t sure of, but one caught your eye.

It was the prowler’s design, his gauntlet as well, it looked like extra designs but you didn’t know think much of it. You’ve heard a lot about the prowler, not a lot of people agree with his methods but at least he gets the job done. You decide to look away before he catches you staring, soon after you fall asleep.

You woke up by someone shaking your shoulder, you lift up your head, your vision was drowsy and a bit blurry.

“Class is over” Miles says bluntly

You nodded, you were clearly half awake as you grab your things and jammed them in your backpack. You both leave the classroom as you walk in silence. The only noises you heard was your faint breathing.

“What class do you have next” You ask, trying to start a conversation.

“Spanish” He responded

“Cool, I have that as well”

He nodded as you both walk in complete awkward silence, no one dared uttered a word, but he seemed intrigued by you, you couldn’t quite figure out why.

You both walked inside the classroom as you took the remaining seats that were in the back of the classroom. The room was awkwardly silent, all you heard was the teacher tapping their pencil on the desk. You never really did anything in this class, you had a decent grade but you couldn’t say the same for everyone else.

Mostly no one did their work in this class, you did it but only rarely if you felt like it. You look to the side seeing miles once again, drawing the prowler. You wonder what was so interesting about it to him, but nevertheless you watched him draw, the extra designs look pretty impressive, the page had a neon purple to it to match theme. You look away once again, but your curiosity was intrigued.

What did he like so much about the prowler?

Next class was history, you were assigned with miles but none of you really spoke.

“So, you want to do held and I’ll do the other half?” You ask

“Yeah alright” He responded

In reality you were doing the work while he drew in his sketchbook, you were getting pretty frustrated at the lack of work he was doing and he found it amusing.

“What? You getting mad now?” He asked mockingly

You scoffed snatch his sketch book on purpose, as you examined its drawings, maybe he’ll do his work?……not at all….

He grabbed your phone on the desk

“Give it” he asked annoyed

“Do your goddamn work!” You hissed

He extends his hand out gesturing to give it back for the phone, you sigh as you give it back, snatching your phone back.

At the end of school the bell rang as you stuffed your belongings in your bag, you knew miles wasn’t gonna let that slide when you took his sketchbook.

You quickly left the classroom before he could achieve his get back. You left the school before you were late for the bus, it was pretty dark out at the time, but you sat still waiting for the bus to come.

You looked around at your surroundings, spotting neon purple at the top of a building. It reminded you of the prowler, as you were lost in your thoughts you heard a beep noise. The bus arrived, you quickly went on and took a seat. Today was a pretty good day, you snicker to yourself knowing you got miles pissed about the sketchbook situation…

Oh boy…..only if you knew what he had in store for you the next day….

You arrived late to school as usual, you were about to go to your locker when you found it completely damaged, your notes were ruined, textbooks, you name it.

“Miles” you grumbled under your breath

You knew he was gonna make your life a living hell…..

He started messing with you just to get back at you, but he found your reactions entertaining. He always purposely called you ma, just to see you get red out of embarrassment.

“Hey ma, how ya doing? You still working on that project f’me?” He asked in mocking tone

“Don’t call me that, you haven’t done shit for the project!”

“And I still ain’t gonna, maybe if you ask nicely” he says with a cocky tone, slightly amused.

“Could you please turn in your report?” You responded

“Yeah I’ll do it” he says sarcastically “So who’s house for the project?”

“Mine I guess” you replied

“Alright then”

Nothing much happened other than miles being annoying as ever, it was awfully quiet….it’s never this quiet unless it’s something about the prowler, wonder what he did this time.

After school was over both of them went to her house, she gestured him to follow along as they went in her room.

She grabbed a laptop and sat down at the desk

“Alright so we’re supposed to research about the-“

He completely ignored you, and started doing his own thing….

You grown as you start doing the work, you look over to him and once again, he’s drawing.

“Do you ever do your work?” You asked

“Yeah, I’ll do it later” he replied

You grumbled under your breath, it’s obvious he’s doing this on purpose just to mess with you, you try your best to ignore it, but it just doesn’t work.

You did most of the work, he managed to do a little. His phone started ringing, you took a peek and you saw it was “Uncle Aaron” he got up and spoke.

“Alright im heading out”

You nod as he left, you wonder what that phone call was about but you brush it off. Later that night the news reports that medical supplies were stolen, they assume it was the prowler. You never really payed attention to the prowler, but then you remembered miles sketchbook, he had multiple sketches of the prowler and its design. A noise was heard outside, you perked your head up, and looked out the window.

The night was illuminated with neon purple, seemed like someone was running from something, at least that’s what you thought…. You opened your window to see it closer

and you would’ve thought you would see the prowler….

You quickly close the window, he must’ve saw you. You close your curtains, it was getting late, so it’s better to get in bed. You make your curtains are closed fully, you get into bed and fall asleep

But the neon lights were still there, almost if they were getting closer….watching you….

#miles 42 #prowler miles #miles g morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #atsv fanfiction #earth 42 miles x reader #prowler miles x reader #miles g morales #miles g #42!miles #miles gonzalo morales #atsv x you #atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #black!y/n #black!fem!reader

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