Dance practice company â earth 42! Miles morales x fem. Reader
Summary: Miles agrees to accompany you to the dance studio as you practice a choreography youâve been working on.
Warnings: pet names, waist grabbing
Word count: 1.5k
Authors note: for my fellow dancers out there ;)
âWhat you getting ready for again?â Miles questioned you as you gathered multitudes of different clothes heading to your bathroom.
Miles had been over at your house ever since school ended roughly an hour ago. You two were best friends so he considered it his second home as well. He didnât feel the need to go home right away and chose to crash at yours for a bit knowing you didnât mind.
âIâm going to the studio later on, wanna come?â You answered, glancing back towards him before entering your bathroom.
âWhat, you rap or some shit?â
You couldnât help but burst into laughter. Miles was so unserious sometimes and it made you ponder how the hell you two got so close. You couldnât deny that the main reason was that you were slightly attracted to him. Well, typically more than slightly. Your heart pounded the second heâd stare at you a bit too long when he said that he was coming over, or when he wraps his arm around you. Of course, those were all gestures of him being a genuine friend, you just happened to make certain actions more than they intended to be. Falling hopelessly in love with the man who probably only ever saw you as a sister.
âNo dumbass! Iâm a dance choreographer. Well, just for myself I donât make any for artist just yet!â You explained gathering the other pair of outfits that you didnât pick and placing them back into your closet.
Miles took a glance at your outfit and swiftly turned right around in his swivel chair. Almost like a look of dissatisfaction. What you didnât know was that he had a grin plastered on his face. He indeed liked the outfit, it was a lot more revealing than the school uniform or baggy pajamas heâd usually see you in. Miles had never known you danced, and parts of him anticipated to see what you could do.
âWhatâs wrong with my outfit?â You frowned reviewing your selected clothes once again thinking it may not be a decent outfit. You wore a sports bra, cropped top, and some biker shorts.
âItâs straight, showing a lot of skin though.â Miles didnât dare to look at you again. He suffered in the mix of his emotions. He had exactly no clue on what the hell had been going through his mind and engulfed himself into his phone as a distraction.
âMcht, are you coming or not?â You prepped a gym bag full of necessities such as a water bottle, headband (although you never use it and itâs just decoration for your bag apparently), your aux cord and a new change of clothes.
âOf course, ma. I gotta see what you working with.â He snickered, grabbing his school bag with him.
â â
You both arrived at the underground studio that looked as it have been straight out a horror movie. Miles began to wonder how the hell did you walk here every week by yourself without getting snatched. He made sure to keep this in mind to make an excuse to tag along the next few times youâd come here.
âWeâll this is my third home!â You sighed with relief. You just adored this place. This place was your breath of fresh air, your escape from reality as you let your body flow. You hadnât brought anyone here, this place had been sacred to you for weeks nearly months. Miles just happened to be an exception this time.
âYo ass need to carry a taser or something running âround over here!â Miles commented before opening the door to the slight scent of sweat and a hint of womenâs perfume. It wasnât a pleasant smell but if you loved it here, so did he. Really didnât have a choice either way.
âI got these hands on me, Iâm straightâ you joked knowing damn well youâd probably get kidnapped one day. Miles chuckled at your bravery. You ecstatically sauntered into the studio heading towards a wooden door that read âstudio 4â, you had a set of keys for this room as you rent it out for each month.
âWhat the hell? You even got keys to this motherfucker?â Miles was flabbergasted. So this is where youâd venture off too, he thought. He placed his bag right beside the black sofa bed as he took a seat spreading his legs wide.
âYes I do, I rent this place out so I wonât have to share with them, other folks.â You said to connect the aux cord to the huge speaker in the corner of the studio. Soft r&b songs like Ella Mai, H.E.R., and Summer Walker played in the background. You trailed towards the middle of the floor, your back facing Miles as the mirrors were on the opposite side of him. Your eyes landed on him, as you tended to get a bit nervous. Youâd never danced in front of him, even though you wanted to. You exhaled a nervous sigh taking your arms for some stretches.
âWhat song you dancing to, mamĂ?â Miles asked as he ogled at you stretching right before him. He enjoyed the sight for sure, but sluggishly became uneasy. That feeling of confusion eating him whole.
âYouâll find out soon!â You teased. It wasnât a typical slow song nor was it an upbeat song. Maybe a perfect mixture of both. But it was for sure r&b. Thatâs all you knew to dance to as the movements just came easier to you with the music.
âLame.â He snorted rolling his eyes.
You did a few last stretches before shouting to Siri on your phone to ply your desired song. âHey siri, play call me everyday by Chris brown.â
Miles cocked an eyebrow flashing that flirty grin of his as he chuckled a bit. âOh, so you on this type of timing.â You hurled over in laughter trying to quickly get yourself together before stepping side to side as your last warm-up before you began whining your hips and then rotating the opposite way. You rolled your hips down to the floor, tauntingly rising as your hands slither up your body halting in the air.
Miles was beyond shocked. He did not know how well your body could function along to the bass beaming through both of your bodies. The way your hips could twirl in circles effortlessly, and not to mention those enticing facial expressions youâve made. Licking and biting your lips, frowning with such passion, making some stank faces that he just found so attractive.
âFuck.â Miles whispered shifting in his seat once again. Those mixed emotions officially appearing clear as day. He was attracted to you. Very attracted. His heart pounded within his rib cage, palms building with random sweat.
You shifted your body to face him and opened your legs rolling your hips. Catching his mouth hung agape, those hazel brown eyes gawking every single inch of your body. He looked so hot to you. He had your full attention and just him looking down at you just sprouted a new charismatic side of you while you continued to finish your dance ending with a fierce pose. Your chest heaved up and down as you retrieved your breath.
âSo how was it? I couldâve done a little better in the beg-â you stated but was cut off before you could belittle yourself.
âDamn, ma I ainât know you could do it like that. Shit lowkey sexy as hell.â Miles complimented while he applauded you.
âThanks, it ainât all that. That was just a little somethinâ somethinâ.â You grabbed your water bottle drinking until the bottle cracked from the pressure of your hand.
Miles stood taking a couple of steps before he stood mere inches from your body. He grabbed your bare waist pulling you into the warmth of his body as he gazed deeply into your eyes. The water bottle escaped from your hands dropping onto the floor as you glanced into Mileâs eyes that read nothing but hunger for something. You werenât quite sure but his half-open eyes were enough to make you quicker under his sight.
âYou better not be doing this for nobody else, I promise Iâll beat they ass if you do.â Miles demanded in that husky tone of his.
âYou acting like you like me or something.â You teased but a portion of you hoped that he did. You felt his warm minty breath fan on your lips not taking notice that his face was drawing closer to yours. He planted his soft plump lips on yours, like he had been yearning to do that for days. Making small nibbles on your lips as he pulled away. You were baffled. Hell, you didnât even know if you had kissed him back or not.
Synopsis! For the life of you , you couldnât understand why Miles had it out to get you so bad. If it wasnât for the mid-year seat change, he wouldnât have even acknowledged your existence.
Genre: light fluff, enemies to lovers like trope, light bully!Miles
Warnings: mentions of sa (nothing happens just mentioned), mentions of violence, maybe foul language but I think thatâs it enjoy!
word count: 5k
Authors comment: I keep seeing School themed hcs and I had to say me sphewl(?), planned to be one shot but thinking about a part two. Sorry for any bad translations my Spanish is meh, please leave a like <3
Do not copy! All rights reserved to axeoverblade
It was known half way through the school year at Visions Academy the teachers changed the assigned seats. Being in your last hour, you were pretty much comfortable sitting next to almost anyone in the class.
Albeit, you did have a few in your mind you would rather not be sat with. Kids who didnât like to do the group work, kids who talked too much, kids who always were trying to copy answers, etc.
The teacher went through the neatly organized desks column by column, starting on the left side closest to the door for the new seating chart. There were only four columns seeing as the wooden desks were double seated. You listened as she went through assigning kids to chairs, finally reaching the last column. There were about seven other kids along with you still waiting to be called to the four desks available. All the kids left were somewhat iffy options to be next to for the rest of the year.
Only you and three others were left. She called out to the second to last desk, âAmanda and Johnâ. You sigh a breath of relief happy to not be sat next to John who had a crush on you, your thoughts replaying all the times he had tried to get with you. Feelings were not mutual. â And Finally Y/n and Miles.â
You walked over to the seat from the front of the room, seeing the Miles kid already getting comfortable in his new seat closest to the wall.
You never had the chance to talk to Miles much. Actually, you donât think youâve ever talked to him. He was very reticent in the classroom. The moment he finished his work which was always relatively quick, he was out of the class leaving a few minutes to spare coming back before the bell rang.
There was a reason you never made an effort to talk to Miles. In fact, it was more like you endeavored to avoid him. His hedonistic friend group were known for being-, uncivil. They treated others horribly, always making someone do something that would make your stomach churn if you had to be the one to do it. From the rumors, Miles got into fare share of fights. If he walked into class brooding, possibly a small cut on his lip, that was all you needed to know he had gotten one over on whoever had sadly ticked emâ off.
There was a reason he had never gotten caught. No one ever spoke on who he would get into âfightsâ with, which were mostly one sided beatings with kids who couldnât defend themselves properly, because they knew speaking up meant worse for you than the initial torture he would engender. That was how it was with his whole friend group.
What confused you though, he was extremely smart unlike the jerks he was always with. You heard he was one of the highest scoring kids, every report card stamped with straight As. That wasnât much at this school, almost everyone had straight As and high Bs, but all his grades averaged above 94.
There was also no denying he was very attractive. Surprisingly he was never seen with anyone romantically, unlike his friends who always had a girl or two under their arms. There were definitely people were lined up at his feet though, always trying to cling to him. He always just brushed them off, usually blunter than he needed to be.
You had seen it once, a girl you hadnât really liked had gone up to him during passing period asking for his number only for him to look at her funny and walk right past her. All his friends and their shallow twats of girlfriends laughed at her, walking with Miles past her.
She cried in bathroom for forty minutes after.
You stood next to your seat, putting your bag down. âHi Iâm y/nâ you said, formally introducing yourself to Miles for the first time. He looked up to you from his phone. You watched as he took his time studying you, making you slightly flustered as his eyes roamed your body. He looked back down at his phone, disregarding your presence. âI know.â
You blinked a few times processing the abrupt rudeness.
You rolled your eyes and whispered a few choice words to yourself about the interaction as you sat down, realizing you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year.
You pulled out your phone, texting your friend and roommate Mei, who was across the room, about how rude Miles was. She looked up, seeing you staring at her irritated. She giggled before texting back.
Mei: He so fine tho đ ask em if he needs a dog
You: Mei đ
You: heâs so rude n for what? Like he couldâve just nodded or said his name. I know he got that whole âbad boyâ thing goin but ainât have to do allat
Mei: PLUS u know Ms Reita does not b swappin seats. You know how many times I asked to be moved from Jessica only for her to say tuff luck and move on? Seventeen times. Just give it time n maybe it gets better you never know
You: đ
You shook your head and put your phone down as the teacher started passing out the work. It was a normal worksheet due by the end of class. You went through, solving the easier problems before going back and finishing the ones you skipped.
You were on your last problem when Miles hand shot up lazily. Ms.Reita looked at him and sighed, knowing that he was going to leave for almost the rest of class period if she let him leave the room. âIs your worksheet finished?â âI wouldnât be raisinâ my hand if it wasnât.â âWatch it Morales, wouldnât want to have to tell your Mom you have detention would you?â He sighed before mockingly smiling âSo sorry Ms.Reita, can I so humbly excuse myself?â He batted his eyelashes for extra effect. She huffed as pointed to the door. You snickered to yourself watching the exchange. He looked at you, a glint of amusement washing over his eyes, but the look left as soon as it appeared. He looked away getting up and walking out.
_
You walked with Mei back to your shared dorm, talking about the nonsense that flooded your minds. Luckily for you, it was Friday and you could go home tonight, you just had to go grab your bag and you would be free from this hell hole.
âŠ
âAlright Mei Iâll see you on Mondayâ you said, grabbing your suitcase and backpack, pulling it with you to leave. She smiled and waved, still packing. âBye baby mamaâ you rolled your eyes playfully at what she said. She would constantly make jokes about how she could care for you and be your sugar momma, even though she was just as broke as you were.
You walked toward the lobby of the school, seeing the exit to the building so close. It felt like knowing air was near when you were drowning, finally being able to catch a break and breathe- âoh sorry baby girl, didnât see you there.â You felt someone bump into you, too intentional for it to be accident. You cringed at the nickname and gathered yourself. Luckily you hadnât fallen, just stumbled causing your bag to fall off you. âDonât call me that John.â You said, picking up your bag and slinging it in on your shoulder. âYou know you like itâ he said, closer than he needed to be. Recoiling at the sound of him so close to your ear, you stuck your hand out and lightly pushed him further from you. âI really donât, I already told you I want nothinâ to do with you.â You continued to walk to the exit, only for him to walk beside you. âCmon baby I can show you the world, stop playing hard to get.â You looked at him, stopping in your tracks, âIâm not playing hard to get, this is me playing I donât want youâ âso you admit you're playing about not wanting me?â He said, smirking. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, just wanting to go home. âFor the final time John, I am not interested.â You walked again, this time he didnât follow because his friends were walking up to him. âIâll see you on Monday baby!â He called out loudly, drawing attention to the both of you. You scowled and walked faster out the building, happy to not have to see John for a few days.
Unbeknownst to you, Miles was watching the interaction from the beginning, ignoring his friends talk about the girls that passed or the sexist comments they made. He noted how you reacted to John, how much disgust surged through your body language. He disliked John, but for separate reasons. John was one of those guys. Class A jock who didnât know when to quit. Also didnât know when to shut their mouths. Granted, those were the exact people he hung around. But at least he could tolerate their idiocy, and it was better than walking around the school alone all day. Only kid he hung around that wasnât like that was his roommate Ganke.
He watched as you scowled and left the school. He shrugged minding his own business, zoning back into the conversation about who had the biggest boobs.
_
Monday rolled around quicker than you couldâve imagined. And it felt like a Monday, which never helped. You trudged into your last hour groggily, just wanting to be done with the day so you could go back to your dorm and sleep. Walking over to your seat, you looked at Mei across the room. She wiggled her eyebrows, mouthing for you to initiate conversation with Miles. You rolled your eyes, sitting down. Miles was sketching lightly on the worksheet already passed out on the desks. You tried to look at it, but the braid that draped over his shoulder covered your view. You didnât want to seem invasive, so you just grabbed your sheet and began working.
Finishing the sheet quickly, you got on your phone, scrolling through your socials. You saw a news alert flash across the top of your screen, some message about âthe prowler striking againâ over the weekend. You swiped it away.
You didnât hate the prowler in all honesty, but you would never admit that out loud. Whoever was under the mask did bad things, but usually only to bad people. Usually.
The police barely did anything anymore, making it hard to even go outside without getting mugged or groped or something bad. With the prowler being out and about, some idiots have been scared off the streets, enough to where you could at least walk to and from your family apartment to school. In your eyes, the vigilante kinda helped a little.
One word, Regret. Ever since you had decided to not let his rude behavior slide which was something not many did, it had been his personal project to make your life a living hell.
It was like you forgot who he was or something, decided to let you imaginary balls get the best of you. Damn your pride. Within the span of few weeks he somehow had broken into your locker and trashed you books, he made sure it wasnât anything that you couldnât fix easily though, just a few torn pages. He constantly would shove you, which he mude sure to do lightly to not actually hurt you, into the lockers when he passed you in the nearly empty halls when he was with his friends. He would say the most outlandish things to you whenever you passed him when the halls were too crowded and others could see what he did. He made sure his friends didnât with you though, knowing they would take it way too far how they had with the other kids they harassed. And even though you tried to ignore him the first few weeks hoping he would stop, he never did. You swore you could feel yourself loosing your mind.
His friends would constantly make comments about how Miles liked you and now you were off limits, but every time he shot the idea down with a quick stank face. But perish the thought one of his friends gets talks about you the wrong way, or at all. Miles had nearly killed the guy who had walked up to and called you pretty. Didnât ask for your number, didnât do anything weird, just called you pretty. The problem wasnât even the compliment, it was how genuinely big you smiled but it wasnât because of him.
He didnât actually care for you, at least thatâs what he told himself. So you can understand why it bothered him so much that he hated weekends now, knowing it was extra days where he couldnât see you, feel you. Even if it was just a brush on the shoulder when doing partner work, or him shoving you lightly when walking past, glaring at you like you were the one that bumped into him.
It annoyed you to no end you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year. What annoyed you even more was how attracted you were to him. He was such a jerk to you, and for some reason you would sit in your room giggling with Mei about how his laugh, even though the only reason you had heard it was because he was making fun of you, was the most attractive thing you have ever heard.
âŠ
Luckily today was Friday so you could enjoy the weekend.
It had been a few months since you had been moved next to Miles, a few months since you decided to overstep a boundary you wish you hadnât, a few months since youâve been slowly loosing your sanity. Miles had taken it upon himself to mess with you in class, staying for almost the whole period now a days to do just that.
âIf you would finish your work then we could be done alreadyâ you mumbled under your breath, looking at the shared work you had to do that Miles hadnât even looked at, too engrossed in his phone. The two of you had been going back and forth since the start of class, now only roughly fifteen minutes left. He looked up to you, squinting from annoyance, âdo you ever just, I donât know, close your mouth?â. You rolled your eyes âIf you, I donât know, finish your half so I can go turn this in then yea maybe I would.â He scoffed, pulling the paper closer to him. A few minutes passed and he slid the paper over to you âdonât say anything elseâ. You looked at the paper, seeing he had completed his half of the work in record time, you must really annoy him. âWell if you just did that earlierâ you said sarcastically, picking up the paper and walking over to the turn in bin, placing the paper in it.
As you walked back to your seat, John started to talk to you. You pursed your lips, walking past him heading to your seat behind him. That didnât stop him, as all he did was turn his chair around to face you. âSo the party is tonight, you can come-â he paused, putting emphasis on the word winking at you, hinting at something else. You looked at him disgusted. âAnd we can have a lot of fun, perfect chance for you to see how much you truly like me.â You blinked a few times, âyea noâ was all you said before looking at your phone. You didnât fail to hear the small, quiet breathy laugh that fell from Miles lips as he stared at his phone, overhearing the conversation. His laugh alone could make your knees buckle. You quickly brought yourself back to reality, not letting your mind flow with any positive thoughts about Miles. âCmonâ baby, promise Iâll show you a good time.â âAinâ I tell you not to call me that?â You said, annoyed that John just couldnât leave you alone. âYou know we locked in, you keep playin.â âJohn-â âaight hear me out, you come to the party, if you donât have a nice time -which I can guarantee you will- Iâll leave you alone, how does that sound?â âYouâll leave me alone?â You said, intrigued by the offer. âIf you come.â You sighed, âlemme ask my momma.â He smiled widely, happy to have finally convinced you. Miles secretly looked between the two of you with his eyebrows furrowed, thinking how pathetic John was.
A few minutes passed as John sat facing you, waiting for a response. You sighed, causing him to perk up. âI need to be home by 11, and you have to send me the address. My mom also needs your number and your mommas number, comprende?â He nodded quickly, typing all the information into your phone so you could send it to your mom. You sent the message, already regretting your decision.
_
Sure enough.
You sped walk home, the time nearing 10:45. Wiping the tear that trickled down your cheek, you scoffed. The party started off great, you and John had a great time, initially.
Then things got weird, he tried to take you to a bedroom upstairs, you declined, him being intoxicated, grabbed you forcefully to take you up. You were glad you were taught basic self defense. You kneed him in the bolas and grabbed your bag, quickly leaving. You wondered what wouldâve happened if you had dranken something, where you wouldnât have been fully aware of your surroundings. You hurrying to dismiss the thought, happy to be out the party
Normally you would be much more aware of the world around you, had you not been so lost in your thoughts. âHey there pretty ladyâ you heard, you couldnât catch a break tonight. You started walking quicker, almost jogging with your eyes focused ahead of you, as you just wanted to get home safely. âYou ainât hear us talkin to you?â Your eyes widened at the mention of us, realizing there was more than one. You searched for your switch blade that would usually be inside your pocket, but it was no where to be found. You figured it mustâve fallen out at the party, you silently cursed to yourself. Three men were now matching your speed, and suddenly were next to you.
âWhatâs a little momma like you doing out here all alone, donât you know thereâs bad guys out here?â
âDonât worry baby, weâll keep you safeâ, they grabbed you forcefully covering your mouth so you wouldnât alert anyone, not like anyone would help. They pulled you to the nearest alley. You bit the hand of whoever was covering your mouth, causing them to let go of your face. You took this as an opportunity to scream for dear life, only to be smacked into a state of drowsiness. You quickly shook yourself out of it, feeling the stinging sensation spread across your face. Your ear was ringing lightly, and you couldâve sworn this dude knocked your tooth loose. You spit at the guy across from you, seeing bloody saliva land on his face. The guy behind you who was holding you let go and moved to the side. Before you could react to the new found freedom, you were pushed roughly into the wall behind you. âMuda puta, all you had to do was cooperateâ the guy in front of you said, wiping the spit off his face.
Ready to accept whatever was going to happen, you closed your eyes and scrunched your face, only to hear screams of pain from the three men, followed by an uncanny silence.
You opened your eyes, seeing the prowler standing where the man in front of you once was with a bloody claw. The three men were laying on the ground, lifeless. Your eyes widened as you mouth fell open. The vigilante stared at you, you could see the eye like symbols displayed on the mask slightly widened at the sight of the hand-mark on your face before recomposing into a stoic, neutral setting. You were too shocked, and mostly scared to say anything.
The figure got closer, to which you could work out was a male. You took note of the two braids cascading down their neck behind the mask, as well as the oddly clean Jordanâs they sported. You didnât have much time to take in their lanky appearance, as they took a final step towards you, making it so you had to look up at their mask. Their presence loomed over you eerily. You gaped at him, your pleading eyes filled with fear. Feeling your heart beating out your chest, you raised your hands lightly placing it on their chest to stop them from getting any closer, even though you knew they could easily kill you no matter what you did. His heartbeat was slow, almost calming to feel. âPleaseâ you whispered, voice barely leaving your larynx.
As quickly as he had come he left. You looked around, finally spotting him lurking on top of the building across from you, crouching along the ledge looking at you. You looked at the Prowler one last time, making eye contact with their mask silently mouthing a thank you. He flipped away to wherever else he goes, not acknowledging your gratitude. You nearly collapsed, sliding down the wall. Your hands aggressively wiped your face before meeting your hairline, resting there as you breathed ruggedly. The adrenaline you had was wearing off, and the bruises the men left you with became more prominent on your skin, as well as more painful. At least your opinion about the prowler was correct, he wasnât such a bad guy after all, not to you at least.
_
Returning to school on Monday was a catastrophe, news spread like wildfire about you being attacked by the three men, as well as your encounter with the Prowler. Random people were approaching you asking what is what like and other random questions revolving around your attack. No one however, was talking about what happened at the party. But you couldnât blame them, not many people saw what had happened.
âŠ
It was finally the last period. You wanted nothing more for this to blow over, and for you to be done with the day back in your dorm. You walked in, wavering slightly seeing John leaning on your desk. You noticed Miles sitting in his seat on his phone, eye bags deeper than usual.
You quickly sat down, trying your best to ignore John's attempts to talk to you.
âY/n please it was an accident-â
You ignored him getting your pencil out of the top zipper of your bag.
âY/n please just listen I was drunk and I didnât know what I was doing you gotta believe meâ he leaned toward to take your hand, causing you to flinch and pull back. You looked at him angrily âyou think being drunk excuses anything?â Your voice was calm and almost at a whisper despite how you felt, trying your best to draw the least amount of attention. He sighed desperately, âNo it doesnât but you gotta see it from my perspective-â âwhat perspective John?!? The one where you tried to force yourself on me? Or the one where you tried to take me upstairs against my will? I swear if you come near me again, I wonât hesitate to cut your polla off, comprende?â Ms. Reita asked everyone to take their seats, causing John to look at you solemnly before scoffing and turning to his seat.
You huffed, putting your head between your crossed arms on the table. âWhat happened at the party?â You looked over to Miles surprised. You hadnât expected him to ask you any questions, but if he did you figured it would be something about the prowler incident. âNothinâ.â You said dismissively. He looked at you skeptically. Before you could even react, he grabbed your phone off the desk and tucked it in his pocket. âYou ainâ gettinâ it back til you tell me what happened.â âWhy do you care so much?â âYour wrinkles nâ dark circles look worse than usual, wanna know why.â âCould say the same for youâ he looked at you blankly. You sighed, âJohn got a lilâ too handsy is all, donât worry âbout it. Can I have my phone back-â âmami, how handsy?â His stern voice caught you off guard. He looked at John's direction for a split second, you couldâve sworn youâd seen Miles look at John with a look of determined death. He looked back at you eyebrows furrowed, âhe tried to take me upstairs nâ I wasnât feelinâ it, so he tried to make meâ you uttered, a little quieter towards the end of your sentence. âLeft before he could do anythingâ you finished, âcan I get my phone back now?â You looked at him tiredly. He let out a simple huh and gave you your phone back, his full attention now on johns figure ahead in the seat diagonally ahead of him.
âŠ
The class had been dismissed, luckily Miles had decided to leave you alone today, you were too tired to deal with his antics anyway. Walking over to Mei dismissing John's stare, you two began walking out of the class heading to the lobby so you head back to your dorm room. As you were walking back Mei stopped at a vending machine to get a couple snacks for the dorm so you two could have a movie night. You waited as she inserted her money, clicking which snacks you both liked to buy them. As she was stuffing the snacks in her bag zipping it up, a student screamed âFIGHTâ. You looked over seeing a crowd forming and walked over to see what was happening. Bullying your way to the front you saw Miles on top of John, pounding John's blood stricken face damn near permanently into the floor. Your eyes enlarged at the sight. Miles was clearly irate, and from the looks of it, had no plans of stopping. A security guard quickly ran in and grabbed miles off John's limp body. Miles spit at John, yelling something at him in Spanish that you couldnât hear over the commotion. You looked at John's body, seeing him look almost unconscious as he coughed violently and rested on his elbows, trying to catch his breath. You gaped at Miles, shock written all over your face. His chest rose and fell quickly as he looked around the room seeing all the people watching. He stopped as he made eye contact with you, his gaze softening slightly before he looked away. A huff fell from his lips as he was dragged to the principal's office. He jerked his arm away, muttering something about how he knew how to walk.
âŠ
John had to be sent to the hospital.
Miles was in the principal's office, sitting silently as John's parents screamed at the principal while Milesâs mother sat next to him upset. âMy child is a great kid! And how is he supposed to feel safe in this school anymore knowing this can happen again, huh?â John's mom spewed mindlessly, ranting about how she was going to press charges. Miles scoffed, causing Rio to look at him with a look of âwatch your mouth before I watch it for you.â He just looked down at his hands in his lap.
Miles walked out of the classroom to head back to his shared dorm. He couldnât get out of his mind what John had done to you. As vague as your response was, he knew more had happened between you and John. He didnât know why it bothered him so deeply, it wasn't even really his business. He knew the thought of someone being touched like that made him upset, but he felt pure outrage from this specifically, and he knew deep in his heart it was because it was because it was you who had gone through it.
As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he felt something different for you when he intervened the night the three men attacked you. He added three bodies to his belt, for you. He ainât ever killed for nobodyâŠ
without compensation.
Usually, as bad as it sounds, he would let people get robbed or thrown around in alleyways. It never really concerned him and he had more important things to worry about as he was the prowler, not some superhero looking to help everyone in the city. But the voice screaming sounded familiar, kinda sounded like you. The thought of you being in danger offset his nerves, and he knew a you were going to a party that night so he went, just to check.
Sure enough.
He stalked you from above the rest of your walk home just to make sure nothing else happened.
âWhat you won't even speak huh?â John's mom said, facing Miles. He furrowed his eyebrows at her. âYou wanna send my baby boy to the hospital and have no reason why? Why are you picking on my kid huh? You-â âYou think your kid is the best thing on Gods green earthâMiles scoffed, cutting her off. âCause he is, my kid wouldnât hurt a fly and you-ââyour oh so wonderful kid tried to rape a girl then went around yappinâ boutâ how much she enjoyed it.â The room fell silent. The principal eyes went wide, âUh-Uhm, how about we resume this tommorow-â âwell hold on,â Rio spoke for the first time, âMy son intervened and helped someone in danger because their son was making girls unsafe in the school? Why is he being punished?â âWell Mrs.Morales we didnât know that happened-â âso you immediately assumed my son was the cause of this not even getting evidence before?â âWell he did start-â âuhn-uh, their child is making the school more unsafe than Miles ever did. Why arenât they being scolded for this?â
The principal apologized, saying Miles would be suspended for the rest of the week for starting the fight, but no charges could be pressed to avoid anybody getting into serious trouble.
âŠ
Miles sat in the passenger seat of his moms car, the leather caressing his skin as he looked out the window. A hushed silence had fallen over the two a while ago. Silence is always worse than actually being screamed at, the anticipation is always so suffocating. âSo.. whoâs the girl?â His mom said, looking at the road ahead. Miles glanced at her before looking back out the window, âclassmate.â She nodded, humming. Rio knew her son, and she knew Miles wouldnât damn near end a kids life just just for some classmate.
âElla tiene un nombre?â He sighed lightly, âY/n.â Rio nodded and hummed again, looking at miles through the corner of her eye. âAt some point throughout the week, I expect her over for dinner.â âI donât even have her number, how is she supposed to knowâ Rio clicked her teeth and smirked, âEncontrarĂĄs una maneraâ.
earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader | miles morales x fem!reader
word count: 2.4k
genre: angst to fluff
warnings: language, spoilers (!), probably bad spanish, mentions of stab wounds, mentions of death, dead parents, mentions of blood, arguments
a/n: i love elaborating on things and tying everything together! itâs so fun :) i hope you all enjoy this chapter, it was fun to write and hopefully the story is still âšcaptivatingâš to everyone reading. enjoy, yâall đ€
his girl masterlist
previous chapter:Â iv. what can make me feel this way?
A/N: this is just pure word vomit. Iâm so sorry. The title is SO bad but I was giggling so hard when I wrote it. Also this is literally so fucking self-indulgent.
Summary: Spider-People have a sixth sense. This is common knowledge to anyone who intimately knows one. What you didnât know however was that it can occasionally misinterpret intentions, leading to disastrous results.
Hobie Brown x gn!Reader
Contents: No use of Y/N, anxiety mentions, reader gets full on thrown through a window, reader dissociates (symptoms of dissociation are described in depth), reader gets injured, angst, hurt/comfort
ââââ
It was mid-afternoon, the sun starting to lower towards the sky-line as you hauled your bags back from the grocery store. It wasnât a long walk, not by any means, by the bags were heavy with ingredients for dinner and the sun was at the perfect angle to shine in your eye.
As you dragged yourself through the lobby of your apartment you could feel your heart flutter at the gentle vibration of your phone in your pocket. Hobie must be telling you that he entered through the window. How you longed to see him, today had been impossibly long and he had a subtle way of making everything better.
As you shuffled your way into the elevator, smacking the button awkwardly with your elbow, you impatiently watched as you rose through the levels of your apartment building.
It felt like a century. But eventually you were met with the sweet ding of the elevator reaching the correct floor. You dragged yourself one last time out of the elevator and down the hall, however instead of the sound of sweet guitar cords you were met with silence.
You anxiously creep down the hallway. When Hobie comes over he always plays his guitar loud enough for the whole floor to hear. As annoying as it was to your neighbors you couldnât find it in you to ask him to stop, the sweet melody melting the stress right off your bones.
You somehow manage to mangle your key out of your pocket without putting anything down, and as soon as youâre inside youâre dropping your groceries without a care in the world and pulling out your phone.
As you unlock it your worst fear is confirmed, it was Hobie texting you alright. Him not playing his guitar almost certainly meant something was horribly wrong. To make matters worst Hobie had said he had a âsurpriseâ for you. That made the anxiety in your stomach twist even harder, the idea of one of Hobieâs many enemies capturing him, or using you to get to him sparking to life in your mind.
You leave the door to your apartment open a crack, just incase you need to run, and creep down the hallway. The door to your bedroom is open just a crack, and light is spilling out of your room, causing you to hold your breath as you creep closer.
You perch on your toes, hoping to decrease the chance of someone hearing you as you near the door, hands posed at your side, ready to fight for your life or run as fast as your legs could carry you at a moments notice.
You lean on the door frame and push the door open another few inches using the side of your foot, holding your breath as the hinges let out a loud squeak.
When you donât hear any immediate threats coming from inside the room you carefully shift your weight forward, gripping the door frame like it would keep you from harm.
You feel your heart leap with relief as you see not one of Hobieâs enemies, but Hobie himself. Heâs sitting in your desk chair, facing the closed window. He has his guitar in his hands, but that is not what stands out to you. Instead what stands out is the pair of headphones on his head, forcing his wicks out of the way in a messy way that shows he has not taken much care when placing them on his head in the first place.
You scrunch your nose in delight at the comical sight and decide that some teasing is in order, after the near heart attack he gave you.
You creep forward, your movements reminding you of a cat as a Cheshire grin grows on your face. You still completely when youâre in pouncing distance and you see Hobieâs finger still on his guitar strings. A small cue, but one that indicated youâre plan would be foiled if you didnât attack right⊠Now!
You pounce forward, you barely feel your nails scrap the thread of Hobieâs shirt before a firm force is pressing on your stomach, pushing you up and over yourself.
You can barely breath, a second and an eternity pass as you crash through the air.
You donât think youâve ever hit anything as hard as you just did.
The top of your head and one of your shoulders feel the crunch of the impact first, but it does nothing to slow your movements as your thighs crumple downwards you, and then past you still.
It doesnât take you long to realize that youâre falling.
Not that you had a long time to realize.
You didnât realize that you had the instinct to face the ground. Was that something that was impeded in every human? Or were you simply privy to this trait as you saw your boyfriend leap through the air on a near daily basis?
Whatever the cause, your descent is stopped by the feeling of something pulling on your back. It reminds you of how a bully would pull on your backpack in middle school, only if the bully was a double-decker bus instead of a 12 year old.
Your internal debate on the nature of 12-year-old assholes is stopped as you feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in through the cracked frame of a window.
You didnât remember being pulled in the wrong way through the air. Traveling in reverse. But it would be impossible to forget Hobieâs face staring at you with as much concern as youâve ever seen on it, eyes wide and almost glassy.
You can feel the tightness of his grip on your shoulders, and youâre sure his fingerprints will be imprinted in your skin. You can see his mouth moving quickly but you canât hear his voice.
You look vaguely at the busted window frame, the wood is cracked and splintering in nearly a hundred places. You fear your landlords reaction when he sees that. How are you going to explain it?
You feel Hobie gently brushing your forehead with his thumb, pulling you from your thoughts. You look down and see small specks of glass, almost like glitter, dusting your lap. You raise a hand to your head and it comes back a deep vermilion, you swear it sparks the same as that damned glitter.
You feel Hobieâs hand on your cheek, turning your eyes towards him.
âYou with me?â Hobieâs eyes are large and concerned, troubled brows peering at you.
You can barely find the strength to make eye contact, mind still far off, falling through the atmosphere, clouds catching in your throat.
You feel Hobieâs firm thumb on your cheek, consistent pressure pulling your mind back down to earth.
âHey now. Focus on me.â
You blink a few times, and slowly feel your bones becoming solid once more. You can hear the traffic out the window, Hobieâs breathing, feel the warmth of blood on your head. You find your chest naturally matching the rhythm of Hobieâs as he breathes deeply, prompting you to copy him.
You go to reach up to your head once more, intent of seeing how bad your injury is, but Hobie grabs your wrist and pulls your hand back down.
He stares at you for an intense moment before he scoops you up bridal style, being so incredibly gentle as he stands.
âLetâs get you cleaned up Luv.â He sounds more quite and subdued then you have ever heard him. He walks oh so gently, slow and smooth so as not to bump or jostle you.
He sits you down on the counter of the bathroom gently, and pulls a first-aid kit out from under the sink. Typically it is you patching him up after patrol, looks like the tables have turned this time.
He works in utter silence. His first mission is staunching the wound on your head. Itâs no where near the point of requiring stitches, it had simply bleed a lot as head wounds are prone to doing. He cleans the wound efficiently, and before you know it the wound is hidden by a thick, white bandage on your forehead.
The rest of your wounds are thankfully small, and donât take much treatment. After a few wipes from a damp cloth and some Neosporin your wounds are treated. The only evidence that still prove the incident occurred recently is your blood stained clothing.
Hobie stays in the same spot he was in as he treated your wounds, hovering almost. His normally large presence has shrunk and if your didnât know better youâd say he was trying to hide himself away from you.
You are staring at your hands, finding your fingers very interesting as the intense silence clouds the air, closing in around your throat you want to say something to break it, but your throat chokes in on itself as soon as you open it.
âIâm sorry.â
Hobie looks so small as he whispers those words to you. His hands are ghosts on your thighs, you can feel him, but youâve never felt so separated from him. He eyes the tile of the bathroom and you can practically see him beating himself up, pulling away from you in a belligerent attempt to protect you.
You gently place a hand on his cheek and turn his face towards yours, forcing him to look at you. âI donât blame you.â
âI know.â
âI still trust you.â
He glanced away from you briefly, and blinks aggressively like heâs fighting off tears. âAre you sure you should?â
Instead of a verbal response you take one of his hands from your thigh and guide it your head, setting the tips of his fingers right on the thick bandage that lays there. âThis is proof that you care. That it was an accident and we both regret it. I trust you with my life.â
He suddenly lurches forward, pulling you into his body with a sob. You hold him gently as he cries into you, rubbing his back comfortingly, letting him feel his emotions and let them out.
You have no idea how long you sat there on your bathroom counter, blood stained clothing as you try to piece back together the broken pieces of your boyfriend without any words. But none were needed.
âI would get your hands off her if I were you, homeboy.â
This one is kiiiinda violent, not by Miles mostly be warned C:
such a cute wife (throw me on an island to live in my delusions)
You were quiet, silent most days. Not stepping out of the very thick circle youâd made for yourself consisting of just you.
And yet, still.
Still, the mere thought of keeping to yourself as a permanent transfer student would make even the most daft of people scoff.
You werenât anything special, you were void of attention, and happy that way. Acted appropriately and left anger at the door. Had nothing and no one to complain to, so why make problems for yourself?
Youâre entire life was just floating along your schooling and waiting patiently for the day you left. Even if you were the rare case of âGot transferred half way through the year because the school saw potential!â girl, youâd just wanted to be left to yourself.
But even the premise of that seemed almost impossible now.
Because ever since you were pushed by some rushing kid straight into Miles Morales, tripping him over with you. Him and his asshole friends had made it their life mission to bother you.
âThe cute new girl?â
âYeah, the one thatâ,â The first boy glanced at Miles. â,âtripped on.â
âOooh, shitâ, Sheâs fucked.â The other man whispered back, laughing under his breath. You could feel his taunting stare at the back of your head, and when you checked your peripherals, Miles was sending a sickening glare your way.
You sighed.
â
The ache in your head was probably the only thing keeping you awake.
The day dragging longer than usual had you right about ready to get home and knock yourself out within a minute of being in your bed. Your hand slowly dragged down your face, taking a deep breath and stuffing your jacket somewhere in your locker. The heat of the school mingling with the temperatures the Summer was providing and then adding on the rain from the prior day? You cursed Brooklyn and its humidity. Reaching to close your locker, you finally fit the jacket in the already cramped space. A little piece of the fabric poked out, and you pushed it in while simultaneously trying to keep everything else in too. Pulling a face before you finally managed to get it shut, and slip your finger out before it can get trapped. You turned the key into the dumb metal and scowled at it before pocketing the key and turning to leave.
Being so engrossed in your feud with the locker, you had failed to realise the very man whoâd given you this headache, leering over your frame. Turning straight into his chest and reacting in a pained groan, gripping your forehead in displeasure and glaring up at whomever was standing so close to you.
Which happened to be Miles Morales. Staring down at you with cold, dulled eyes.
âWhat the fuck are you doing, man?â The simmering anger in your voice was made known, and also promptly ignored. He tilted his head down at you, braids shifting with the movement, his expression barely changing. If only he had a conscience. Then maybe you could read his expression, the emotions on his face â, but in this universe? The thought seemed laughable.
He stepped forward, sending you staggering closer against your locker.
âBack offâ,â Youâre voice shook a little as you swore. Dropping his eyelids into a glare, he spoke, âYou keep talkinâ to me like that, and we gonâ have a problem.â
âYou keep creeping up on me like a fuckinââ,â
âLike a what?â Milesâs bored, taunting voice grated against your eardrums.
You let out a shaky breath, chest heaving, and clenched your jaw. Shaking out the annoyance in your bones, you kept your calm.
âDonât get shy on me now.â
A surge of anger rose through you, before you willed it away.
He was antagonising you.
You tried not to instigate him. If you didnât encourage it, maybe heâd go away.
âNever mind. Whatever, Whyâ,â
âMiles, my man.â A different man clapped him on the shoulder, giving you the chance to step back and away from him. The other man was tall and lanky, spindly in the way where he looked out of place for a high school. His blue eyes caught sight of you, smirk contorting the bridge of his nose and baring his teeth. âFuck you doinâ with this thing?â
âWhat dâyou want.â Miles diverted attention from you quick, his companion not getting the hint.
âFuck, nevermind man,â The man sent a sleezy smile at you, looking you up and down slowly, a short whistle under his breath.
âShut the fuck up, James.â
You glared are the taller man, something like bile clawing at your throat. The way he was talking about you was sickening, nothing more than a bothersome rodent.
Miles glanced at you, raising a brow, he wanted to see how long it would take before youâd finally fight back. Through the months youâd been at this school, not once had you actually lost your nerve.
On worse days, like this one, you gave him attitude. Snapping at him the moment he showed up, knowing if you didnât, heâd take the chance too first. He looked forward to those days, where you would engage him. It sent some sick thrill through him. Watching the way your eyes unfocused, urging yourself not to roll them. How your composure surely chipped but never cracked, fingernails digging prints of a fine line when dug into your palms.
He watched your breathing stutter and counted your breaths with you, heâd basically memorised the pattern.
10 beats in, hold for 8, and 12 beats out.
Though, this was only on a good (bad?) day. Other days you just stood and took it. Letting him say whatever he wanted to you, talk shit right to your face. Spread rumours without repercussions and mess with you just because he had the urge.
And just like always. Through the heat of Summer and the full ache in your head, you managed to do nothing.
Just stand and stare as James acted like you were less to a piece of meat.
Miles scowled, dropping his shoulder and causing the man to fall from leaning on him. âOmfâ Hey! What the fuck, dude.â
âLetâs go.â
James scoffed, rolling his eyes but following behind nonetheless.
âMiles, what was that shit about?â
âNone of your fucking business, homeboy.â
Their voices faded as they walked away, the white noise of chattering people swallowing the scraping of Jamesâs voice.
You wondered what Miles had really wanted this time, as he hadnât gotten the chance to say anything with James showing up. You hate to thank him, but god. You mightâve lost your mind.
â
Four months in and you were losing your mind. Miles hadnât stopped, neither had his determination. He seemed so eager to piss you off and do nothing but stare coldly as you composed yourself every time.
Just as that thought brimmed in your head, something kicked out in front of you, sending you flat on your stomach. Hands pressed into the hardwood of the gym below. You groaned, knees being knocked straight to the ground, landing with your arms outstretched in front of you. At least it wasnât your face.
A voice was heard behind you and you froze, unsure what to do at that moment.
âGet up, [Name].â
James.
âYeah, Iâmââ You shuffled back onto your feet. Standing up cautiously and checking your uniform was in place.
âShut the fuck up.â He interrupted you, and you turned around slowly to face him. âEver since I made it clear how little you were fucking worth, that dipshit Miles has been a fuckinâ dog to me.â He spat at you, the anger rising in his voice, he gripped the polo shirt you wore, dragging your limp upper half closer to his.
You shivered at his breath on your face, wanting to gag.
âSorry.â
âYouâre a fucking freakâ.â His group of even more childish people were standing behind him like some sort of team work movement.
âPlease let go.â
âIâll fucking gut you. I needed that motherfuckerâ,â âWoah.â â,âHeâs lucky I donât beat his ass for ditching me.â Seems like attachment issues. âAnd you too, cunt. Iâll end your fucking life.â
He pulled you ever closer, using his height to intimidate you, six foot four of an angry man standing over you, no thanks.
A whistle was heard from the main room of the Gym, prompting James to let go of you.
âYouâre lucky youâre a looker, call it pretty privilege.â
â..â
âNext time Iâll fucking kill you.â
You dropped from where you had been dragged onto your toes, stumbling a little as Jamesâs group snickered when they walked past, bumping your shoulder and wolf whistling.
â
The lesson ended, and you rushed to get out of there. Making your way to the locker room, and being the first in there, also the first to leave. Changing from your sports uniform and rushing out of the Gym.
You kept looking over your shoulder, Knowing that James wasnât lying. He probably would kill you, or, objectively worse.
You tripped over your feet before righting yourself again. People around sent curious looks to you which you ignored easily.
Getting to the front of the school, glass double doors shut with a âlockedâ sign on it, you continued to shoulder forward. Ignoring the shout of the office lady, you pushed against the metal bar and opened the door. Youâd already known about the doors being unlocked constantly, having seen many times teachers trying to check no one was watching before slyly slipping out. So when the door opened for you with no trouble, you breathed out quick, and booked it.
You praised yourself for the amount of cardio you could do, the school was three stories for goodness sake, the amount of stairs you needed to climb was insane.
You slid to the side, dodging the occasional pedestrian and making it to the main gate, another shout was heard from the front of the school and you slipped out the gate just as it opened for another teacher, thanking them as you passed.
âThank you!â You shouted as you ran.
âYouâre welcome?â Oh..â
âKid, Get back here!â
The office lady watched you hit the end of the street and turn, no longer in her sight. She threw her hands in the air and sighed.
âIâm going to get fired.â
âNo, Marlene. Iâll cover you.â
âThanks, John.â
âWhy were they running, anyway?â
âDunno, maybe AP exam.â
â
Miles watched as James was escorted back inside the building. His scowl etched onto his hideous face. Two of their shared buddies trailed behind him, rolling their eyes at the teachers questioning them.
One of the girls in his group was pressing against him, Miles getting more agitated by the minute. His disinterest in her only seemed to fuel her infatuation more, and it was getting annoying.
The guys at his table were all laughing at someâ, probably sexist joke one of them made, the ladies giggling along with them, feeding their toxic lovers the attention they so desperately want. Itâs not like Miles thought he was above these people. He just was. They were scum, but the only friends he could keep. Hurt people hurt people, and all that sappy shit. So when you hurt so much, only a small portion of people can stand you, and you them.
But when your name was mentioned, he perked up significantly â his ears fine tuning to the conversation. Completely forgetting about the raven-haired girl pressing against him, and focusing on the words spat by James and his two huevos.
âSheâs hot thoughâ,â
âFuckinâ cares âf she is? Woulda beat her ass.â
â[Name]?â
âYeah, [Name]. Miles got all fuckinâ sissy I thought she was hot, and now we donât talk.â
âSo?â
âSoâ!? Now I lost my chance with Imogen, sheâs all fuckinâ over him cause Iâm gone.â
Right, Imogen was her name.
âYou want to beat her up over you losing a bitch? Just bag her instead?â
James rolled his eyes, debating it. Miles tensed, his relaxed posture straightened quickly, causing him to almost knock Imogen in the face. Too which she squealed at. An awful noise, really.
He quickly stood, chair falling behind him with a loud clang, and strode out of the hall, Glaring at James the entire time. His two friends laughed Jamesâs sudden hesitance to respond, knowing how piss scared he was of Miles.
James stayed silent until the doors to the cafeteria closed, and the whispers started up. Then told his buddies off in a harsh tone.
No one had ever seen Miles do anything too bad. But with the amount of times heâs shown up to school with a busted nose and smug aura, you could tellâ, whatever fight heâd had.
Heâd won.
â
To say that Miles wanted to have the day away from school, probably wasnât true. With the stuff heâd heard James and his dogs speil, heâd rather you not be alone.
He wasâ, worried.
But when his Uncle Aaron called him in for something urgent right at 4 AM, telling his Ma it was a work emergency, he couldnât refuse his Uncle. He fit his mask onto him, faceplates slotting closed. Claws being turned and clicked into place, he flexed his hands, dragging the window of his room open in the early morning, and left with his Momma sound asleep.
â
The peace and quiet of the day had been rather disturbing. Not having Miles or any of his groupies bother youâ. Was off, not unwelcome, but odd.
So when the bell rang for your fourth class, everyone heading from their lunch break back to their assigned classes, it was only by nature youâd be pulled into deserted corner of the school by some unknown figure. A hand placed over your mouth and the other gripping your wrist, pulling you back.
You struggled against the mystery person, a sickeningly familiar voice croaking in your ear.
âBeâ,â You kicked your head back, knocking his jaw. â,âFuckinâ bitch, be quiet.â
Your foot slipped under you, bringing him more leverage to haul you further from the light of the main hall.
You screamed through his hand, tears building behind your eyes when you heard a door unlock.
âGet in.â
âFuckinâ, Open it wider, dipshit.â
âFuck off.â
James ripped his hand off your mouth before you could realise, pushing the middle of your back so you were forced into a dark, cold classroom.
Miles stuffed his claws somewhere in his locker, uncaring for secrecy. No one was there now, everyone having gone to class. Heâd arrived fairly late, not an unusual occurrence considering his occupation, though. So the office ladies didnât mind.
He slammed his locker shut, an image of you doing the same with a pout on your lips coming to mind. He had class with you now, sat right next to you, actually.
So he made his way towards the back block of the school, where youâd be.
â
A hit straight to your cheek sent you flying to the floor again, Mathew letting go of where he was holding you up.
âDude your grip is shit.â
âNod off.â
Keith muttered something about âFucking brit..â from his seat on the prior teachers desk.
You groaned internally, eyes lolling to the closed curtains, the broken glass of the window letting in a sweet breeze. The only reprise from this entire ordeal was a broken window.
Thereâs some poetry in that, or something.
Blood dripped from your nose and lip. A cut on your cheek now present too. James, the creep, had rings on his thin fingers that, when used, hurt to no end.
You were picked back up by under your arms, closing your eyes in pain and hissing. You opened your eyes in time to see the small glint of metal in Jamesâ pocket, and the wince on Keithâs face before another fist connected to your temple.
â
You werenât there.
You had shown up to school, evident by your paper on the lecturers desk, but hadnât shown up for the period.
And by the empty seats of James, Keith and Mathew. He could only guess what was happening right now.
Miles slammed the door to the class shut, ignoring the panicked yells of his teacher and started towards the darker parts of the school. Where no one used, a chemistry accident setting the safety board director deep in debt and a block of the school unusable.
He flung open his locker when close enough, snatching the prototype version of his claws from the locker. Small, sharp finger coverings that were something close to the claws he had for his Prowler suit. The knuckles were brassed and the wrist latch clasped easily to his skin. He slammed it shut again, not bothering with the lock, and honed in his hearing.
The walls were thin enough.
â
âDonât you think this is a little too far?â
âShut the fuck up, Keith.â
âFuck you gonna do if she snitchesâ?â
He gripped Jamesâs wrist, holding the knife away from both you and himself.
ââYou gonâ ruin your life for this shit, man?â
âSheâs been playing my fuckinâ nervesâ, yeah.â
Keith gave him a bewildered look while Mathew stared on in disinterest, still holding you at a position you couldnât right yourself.
The blood had stained your shirt now, bruising littering your face and body.
James had taken to ditching the knife.
âFuckinâ, Whatever man.â
It clattered to the ground with a large clang, the tiled floors of the science room made the echo ring in your head like the growing migraine.
âDrop âer.â
Keith glanced down at you, then backed off. An odd look on his face while he kicked the knife away from James, unintentionally pushing it closer to you.
He walked back to his seat.
Mathew let go, watching as you dropped to the ground and started coughing.
Choking on your own blood before you spat it out.
âYou know how long iâve been wantinâ to fucking do this?â
He raised his leg, tilting your chin up with his boot, how demeaning.
He swung back and kicked your ribs, sending you into another coughing fit while you fought the urge to throw up, tears streaming the blood dripping down your chin.
âYour family ruined my fucking life.â Another kick to your stomach, you gagged.
âTaking my dad, then my fucking girl too?â
What is this guy on about.
âYour fucking daddy couldnât just mind his own business. Had to get involved, then you.â
A harder kick to your stomach, you clenched your abs and covered your head.
A sudden shock ran over you, a familiarity that always sat with James clicking in your mind.
James Ohnn, son of Jonathon Ohnn, a man who had a hand in the collapse of a still-in-construction Kaleidoscope that was said to bring revolutionary science to the new world. Itâs framing shattered while the workers on it all went with it.
His father was the lead scientist of that Kaleidoscope, and by turn in of your dad, was promptly arrested.
âI didnât do shitâ,â
âShut your fucking mouth.â
He kicked your ribs again, and you swore you could feel them crack.
âIâll kill you, you fucking ruined me.â
He swiped the knife again, Keith shouting something you couldnât hear amongst the ringing in your ears.
You shut your eyes, crowding your head with your arms.
A slam broke through the muffles of your mind. Panicked voices and accusations being thrown around before a thick accent curled around your head.
Miles Morales.
âIâd get your hands off her if I were you, Homeboy.â
Miles approached slowly, checking your face while keeping his eyes on the three men.
âFuck off, Miles.â
âNo.â His head cocked to the side, eyes slanting while he assessed the situation.
âWhat, you gonna fight us?â
Jamesâs voice was shaking. Heâd never seen Miles looks o absolutely pissed before.
âDonât think I can, asshole?â
âItâs three against one.â
âRealmente piensasâ, sabes que, no importa.â
Miles lunged at him, Keith and Mathew shouting in tandem while you struggled to keep your eyes open. The pain working its way past your adrenaline and into your bones.
He grabbed James by the wrist, twisting it back and listening to the sickening crunch of his Lunate bone in curious satisfaction. James screamed, trying to tear his hand away from Miles. Even with his right hand pulling too, he wouldnât budge. The metal clicked together every time James shifted, and Miles gave an extra squeeze before letting go. The force James was pulling sending him flying back, he stumbled and tripped over your feet, falling back and smashing his head on the tiles.
The other two boys scrambled for the door, running out the hallway and whining like dogs.
James groaned, rolling onto his stomach, Miles deadpanned down at him. You watched through blurry vision as Miles picked his up, sat him against the teachers desk, almost slumped against it. Grabbed his hair by his crown, slowly bringing his head forward, bending him at the waist. Before slamming his head back against the wood with a dull thud. He repeated this sick, prolonged process until James had fallen unconscious. Standing over him, then going to grab the knife laid a bit from you. You looked at him from your position, not unthankful, but stillâ, he was evidently a contributor.
âDonât move.â
âWhaâ Why? I have to get home.â
Miles scoffed, crouching down next to you, knife in hand. His limp wrists resting on his bent knees.
âYou gonnaâ go home with a cracked rib and busted face? Nah, Chiquita. Vente conmigo, yo te arreglo.â
He stuffed the pocket knife down the side of his Nikes and took off his claws, putting them in the pocket of his jacket.
He hooked his arm under your knees and upper back, cradling you bridal style before standing to his full height.
You panicked a littleâ âWhaâ, No. Miles, put me down.â
âNo.â
âHhâ Whatdyuâ mean âNoâ!?â
You hooked your hands over his shoulders and gripped him as he made his way through the back exit of the school.
âI said, Iâm taking you home.â
â
You groaned in pain, shirt lifted to just under your bra line as Miles assessed the damage.
He had been joking when he said cracked rib, but there was an underlying sense of real possibility. According to him though, nothing had been enough to seriously injure you. Except the disgusting looking bruises littering yourself.
You tried to focus away from the pain. Or Miles in general, he was very distracting, the lingering attraction you had when you met thought to be squished, was bubbling up again.
He had an ice pack pressed to your skin, and if you were a tad less conscious, maybe you wouldâve made a joke of how cold his hands already were. The sweltering heat doing nothing to soothe the bruising.
âKeep this here.â
âYes, sir.â
âWatch the attitude.â
You huffed a breath, laugh being painful.
âYeah, whatever.â
You shifted yourself to alleviate some pain, and took his place holding the pack on your stomach.
He grabbed an anti-septic from the small kit he had for first aid. When heâd pulled it out earlier, youâd questioned it.
âYou get injured women on your room often, Miles?â
âNah, Just you. Usually they can take care of âemselves.â
Youâd giggled at that, not entirely offended but more so amused heâd decided not to take offence at your jab.
His hands reaching for your face brought you back to the present. Flinching back in surprise, you watched him watch for a moment. âChill, ma. Just gonâ put this on your cuts. Needaâ touch your face for that.â
You cringed, the twisting of your lip having you suck in a harsh breath. âYeahâ, yeah, okay. Thanks.â
âMhmm.â
The callouses in his hands were made known the moment he touched you, spreading the cream along the cut on your brow, cheekbone and lip.
His hands were a nice contrast compared to the heat of your cheeks, and the gentleness at which he was using.
When Miles touched your face, leaning his body closer to yours, he wanted to savour the feeling. The softness of your flesh against his own, how he could trace the contour of your cheek without it being awkward. His thumb rubbed a small amount of cream onto your lip and he couldnât look away. The sight of your blood stained skin under his blemished hands had him stuck in the moment. Unable to answer her last question.
âMiles?â
The way her lips formed around his name sent a burning heat throughout his body.
âYeahâ.â
âIs my lip okay? âM I gonna need stitches?â
You poured up at him and he shook his head. âNo.â
âMmhâ Okay.â
You looked to the side, addressing his room and Miles watched the way your eyelashes brushed along your cheeks when you blinked.
âOkay, just this left. Gonna be a little cold.â
âThank you.â
âNo stress, Chiquita.â
He grabbed some petroleum jelly, spreading it along the cuts on your face and moisturising the wound.
He then placed adhesive bandages along the places necessary, and placed everything back into his first aid.
âMiles.â
âYeah, Mami?â
You paused at the name, heâd been using those a lot lately.
âHowâd you know to find me?â
He looked down, shuffling up next to you against the headboard. You gazed out the window, ignoring the tension that was eating at the both of you. He did too.
/bÉȘËriËv.mÉnt/
The state one is in when losing someone important to them
Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse
42! Miles X Reader, 1610! Miles X Reader
Synopsis: Miles is missing, and all you can think about is getting him back. Upon finally finding him, however, you're taken aback by the copy that stands beside himâthe same copy that was staring at you with wide, shaking eyes full of... disbelief?
Note: this one's for my cousin. The idea actually came to me while I was rewatching the first spiderverse lmao. Who knew Kingpin was such a source of ideas?
You saw itâon the control panelâ42. Miles had been transported to Earth 42.
You belonged to 1610; which meant that Miles also belonged to 1610.
He was in the wrong universe.
Your best friend was stranded in the wrong universe.
Now, if you were a rational person, you would've called for back-upâmaybe even gotten Hobie's help like Gwen had. But you weren't a rational personâand could anyone blame you?âyour best friend was probably in danger, of course you would act without thinking.
The watch wasn't hard to swipe, everyone was too caught up in what had just happened with Miles to care for guarding their little 'goober' dimension devices. Tracking him down wasn't terribly difficult either, not after you knew which world he went to.
All you really needed to think about was where exactly you had to open the portalâbut luckily for you, Margo was willing to help.
"You owe me for this, by the way." Her head tilted your way, lids narrowed in a sassy look you dismissed with a wave of your hand.
"Yeah, okay, what're his coordinates?"
With a roll of her eyesâthat you very much thought was quite rudeâshe gave you just what you needed; his exact coordinates.
The assortment of colours and geometric shapes appeared before you with a few taps of your finger against the cold device, flitting across the room in a bright blur of pure chaos that hurt your eyes to look atâ
âbut you would endure it; if only for Miles' sake.
"This is stupid, by the wayâ" you turned, facing the girl who insisted on making a snide comment every five seconds, "âyou're not even a spiderperson."
"Says the girl who's speaking to me through a VR headset and isn't actually here right now," you growled.
"Careful, I can shut this whole thing down right now and tell Miguel what you're planning," she returned your apprehension with crossed arms, brows furrowing even further.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sighed, "it's justâ I'm worried about him. Please don't tell Miguel. Miles has saved me so many times, it's time I save him for once."
You assumed you must've looked rather pitiful for her features to have softened up, arms falling limp by her side as she, too, gave a sigh; though hers sounded like it stemmed from a different type of exasperation to yours.
"Just... go. Before I change my mindâpreferably."
You gave her the brightest smile you could muster, hoping to god she could see all the appreciation in itâand there was a lotâbefore turning back around to take a step into the portal.
"Miles! I'm here toâ"
As soon as you walked through, you were met with a dark roomâthough, that wasn't what caught your attention. Instead, your wide eyes landed on that familiar hanging bag, beat down and bits of its material flaked off.
Chained up to it, was your very own, Miles Morales. And stood directly opposite to him was... also Miles Morales?
Alright, you were aware of this whole 'spiderverse' thing but you didn't think it would be this trippy.
"...save you?"
They were both staring directly at you, however, the expressions situated on their faces were vastly different.
Milesâyour Milesâhad his eyes blown wide, shaky pupils not leaving your form for a second, even as he started frantically shaking his head from left to right, he still remained in eye-contact with you.
The other Miles also had his eyes blown wide. This time, however, it wasn't in warningânoâhis pupils were dilated and his form stood rigid; still as a statue.
"Cariño..." he whispered; so much breath in his voice, it barely sounded like words were coming out.
"Y/N! You have to get out of here!" Your Miles yelled, pulling at his chains as though it would get him any closer to you.
You scoffed. "And leave you? I don't think so."
"Don't worry about me! You have toâ"
"Cariño."
You blinked, casting your gaze back over to the other Milesâwho now stood much closer to you than before. He was just an arm's length away, in fact, how did you not notice him approach you?
"Mi vida, oh Y/N..." his voice was soft as he spokeâquiet and coated in an emotion you were unfamiliar withâhand moving up to your cheek to gently trace a cold, steel claw over it.
"Hey!" The sound of metal chains clicking grew more frantic from behind him. "Stay away from her! Don't you dare hurt her!"
Either the Miles in front of you was ignoring your friend on purpose, or he genuinely didn't hear him, because he continued to do as he was doingâcontinued to give you shivers from the icy material against your cheek.
Then, all too suddenly, he flew into your torso, engulfing you in a hug so tightâso inextricably emotionalâyou stumbled back a little from the sheer intensity of it all.
"You're alive..." he breathed outâand it was then that you finally understood what the tone of his voice was. "You're really, truly alive. Oh mi cariño, I've missed you so much."
"Whaâ?"
"Lo siento... lo siento." He buried his face into the crook of your neck and the surface of your skin slowly grew wet, your collar soaking up. "I didn't get there in time, I couldn't save you."
You and your Miles shared a glance.
You saw your reflection in his eyes; the look of shock on his face; the scenes that flashed through his pupils. You saw a fear in him, one unlike anything you had ever seen before.
You saw your near-death experience replay right before him.
"Te quieroâ" the other Milesâthe one holding youâgrounded you once more with his words as he pulled away just enough to look you in the eyes and continue, "âyou know that, right? I'm so sorry for not saying it before. If you hadn'tâ if you neverâ I'm so sorry."
The phrase shocked you, sending an electric pulse down your spine and rendering you utterly immobile.
"I always have. For the longest time. It's always been you. It's alwaysâonlyâever been you."
If what he was saying was true... thenâ?
"Y/N!"
Suddenly, the metal against your hips was replaced by the familiar silky material you were used to; the one worn by your Miles.
"Miles," you breathed out, looking all around you to see the shattered glass that flew in the windâscattering in all different directions as the warmth of the inside abandoned you.
"I'm gonna need you to hold on, okay?"
You nodded.
Then, you glanced behind him, catching sight of the familiar geometric mask of the Prowlerâsharp claws outâcoming in hot and fast and furious.
"Milesâ!"
"I know, mami, I know. I need you to trust me for a minute, alright? You know I'll never let you get hurt."
You nodded once more, nails digging into his dark suit as you buried your face directly into his chest. You felt yourself flow through the air, swiftly moving as the wind worked against you, pushing back on your hair as though you were its worst enemy.
It was nice. It was fun. It was... bound to go wrong.
One moment, you were safe, all coddled up in Miles' arms as he swung through the skyâthe next?â
2087
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