H-hi! *uwu* I really like y-your m-miles fics- c-c-could you make a-a cat reader x miles f-for u-u-u-us k-kwitty readers? ^w^ *asks shyly*
chat... are we dead ass? *cries in utter pain and agony knowing i promised yall id listen and not judge to you requests*
Earth 1610, the Morales' household
It’s late Saturday afternoon, and Miles is exhausted. School’s been a lot lately -tests, projects, and what not- and all he’s been looking forward to is the sweet, familiar comfort of his own bed.
As soon as he steps into his room, bag sliding off his shoulder and sneakers barely kicked off, he sighs, dragging himself toward his bed and drops face-first onto the mattress, burying his face in the covers.
But something brushes against his foot -something small, warm, and… furry.
Miles blinks, lifting his head and glancing down. A soft smile tugs at his lips.
“Back in my spot again, huh?” he mutters, his voice muffled against the sheets.
At the foot of the bed, there’s a small (colour) cat, tail flicking lazily, (e.colour) eyes blinking up at him. The same little cat he’d found in an alley a few weeks back -skittish at first, but after sharing bits of food and giving her that makeshift collar he’d made out of string and a soda tab, she’d stuck around.
“Miss me?” he teases gently, reaching down to scratch behind her ears. The cat purrs, leaning into his touch.
But as soon as his fingers brush the soft fur of her neck, there’s a quiet poof.
In a shimmer of light, the small cat suddenly becomes a girl -cradled up on his bed, wearing a familiar hoodie that must have been swiped from his closet, the collar still looped around her neck. The only difference? Her ears -still cat-like and twitching on her head- and a long, swishy tail curling around her side.
Miles freezes, eyes wide, and then lets out a soft laugh.
“Oh... so that's what this is about?”
Y/N peeks up at him through sleepy, half-lidded eyes, her cheeks warming as she rubs one eye with her sleeve.
“Hey, I was warm here,” she mumbles, trying to pull the hoodie over her head to hide her face. Her ears flick back, a clear sign she’s embarrassed.
Miles smirks, leaning closer, his arms braced on either of her sides.
“Warm, huh?” he murmurs, voice low and teasing. “Or were you just waiting for me to come home, gata?”
Her tail twitches at the nickname, and she lightly swats at his chest, but there’s no real fire behind it.
“Shut up…” she mutters, but Miles is already laughing, ruffling her hair with a grin.
“Missed you too, gatita,” he says softly, pressing his forehead to hers before letting himself collapse onto the bed again, this time next to her.
Y/N lets out a soft sigh, curling up by his side. Her tail swishes once, then drapes lazily over his leg, and Miles wraps an arm around her shoulders, letting the calm wash over him.
For a while, there’s no words -just the sound of their breathing, the occasional soft purr from Y/N, and the quiet hum of the city outside his window.
And for the first time in what feels like ages, Miles feels like he’s home.
Earth 42, Davis' apartment
A soft buzz fills the dimly-lit apartment. The scent of solder, metal, and cheap takeout clings to the air. Miles sits hunched over the dining table at Uncle Aaron’s, fingers stained with grease, his gauntlet cracked open and its guts splayed out.
His eyes burn, the dim bulb above flickering every now and then, barely holding on. His chest feels tight -like the city itself, pressing in on him from all sides. Bills piling up at home. His mom working double shifts just to keep the lights on. His uncle slipping him crumpled bills when she’s not looking, while Miles just swallows the guilt.
And this -the suit, the gauntlet, the tech- it’s the only thing that feels like it’s in his control.
That is, until he hears it.
A soft, almost tentative scritch-scratch against the window.
His shoulders tense before his brain caught up, the sound familiar.
Lifting his head, Miles sees a small figure shimmying through the narrow crack in the living room window, her patched ear twitching as she squeezes through.
A sigh escapes him, soft, disbelief.
“Mierda,” he mutters under his breath, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Look who decided to drop by.”
Gently setting down the gauntlet, Miles pushes himself up and strides across the room.
“Oye, careful,” he warns, just as her tiny paws nearly slip off the windowsill.
He scoops her up in his arms, feeling the warmth of her small, furry body pressed against his chest. She’s lighter than he remembers, maybe even skinnier. The patch on her ear, the one she earned from a rough fight with some stray, still stands out against her (dark/light) fur.
“Didn’t I tell you not to get into fights with the locals?” he teases quietly, rubbing his thumb over the soft fur between her ears.
Y/N lets out a soft mrrp in response, her head nudging against his hand.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I’m a sucker for trouble.”
He carries her to the couch, setting her down gently, and as soon as she lands, there’s a familiar poof.
Where the small, beaten-up cat once was, now lies a girl -her hoodie hanging off her shoulder, tail curling lazily against the cushions, and those ears twitching ever so slightly on her head. A faint bruise still lingers on her cheek, a few scrapes on her arms beneath the soft material of her hoodie, and the faint glint of the makeshift collar he gave her peeks out from under her.
“Hey,” she mumbles, voice low and soft like the city after midnight.
Miles stares for a second -like he always does, like he’s still not used to it even though he should be by now. Then, with a small, exasperated shake of his head, he lets out a tired laugh and sits down on the couch next to her.
“I swear you’re more cat than human,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, but there’s no bite to his words.
Y/N hums, her eyes fluttering shut as she leans into his side, her head resting against his shoulder. Her tail flicks once, then curls lazily around his thigh.
Miles stares down at her, something in his chest tightening -not in the way the city does, or the bills, or the weight of the mask he wears- but in a quiet, aching sort of way.
He sighs, sinking back into the couch, letting his arm drape over her shoulder. His hand absently scratches behind her ear, and her soft purr fills the silence.
For once, he lets the city’s problems fade into the background.
Just for a minute or two.
This was too painful to plan and only more to type. So I hope you enjoyed.
