Pairing: Miles Morales x Artist Reader
Summary: Miles sketches you in the middle of Spanish class and is unfortunately caught. To his surprise, he's not alone.
The lines flow carefully on the blank page as Miles makes precise and slow strokes.
They slowly start to form shapes and become a figure piece by piece. With additional strokes, the blob becomes more detailed.
He lifts his head to look at you once more, just to make sure he gets each intricacy right, even though he has you ingrained in his head.
He notices the slight dip in your left cheek while you bite the inside of your mouth, the concentration in your eyes and furrowed brows while you’re reading, and your delicate hand resting on the side of your right cheek.
He pours all of that into the page along with the soft feeling that stirs inside from just thinking about you.
Ms. Llorente—your Spanish teacher—takes notice of Miles not paying attention. While you have told her you finished all your work early at home, Miles has failed to do anything this whole class.
He's usually a good kid who tries to get his work done while still trying to balance saving the city, but it’s just the first time he felt this affinity towards someone. Sure, he's had little crushes in the past—everyone has—however, this was something new.
That excuse definitely won’t slide when he has to explain to his parents why he has a ‘D’ in his Spanish class.
“Miles,” Ms. Llorente says.
He’s still drawing—still adding onto the piece.
When he's still unresponsive, she walks to his desk.
The entire class is watching at this point, even you. You notice his strong fixation on whatever he’s drawing, and you can’t help but be a little curious.
Ms. Llorente grabs Miles' sketchbook from him. “Hm.”
He feels the heat rushing to his face, his hands hopelessly reaching out for his notebook. “Wait, I was, uhm—it’s just—”
She turns her back to him and takes a moment to look at the sketches on the pages. One, two, three times he has drawn you on one page alone. Her eyebrows visibly rise.
“Hmm.” She flips to another page. “Mhm.”
She sits there, nodding her head, going through the notebook.
Miles has no choice but to sit and watch. He can feel the beads of sweat roll down his forehead, eyes on him. He fixes his tie, trying to do something about the itchy feeling of embarrassment, but it does little.
The teacher finally turns back to him. “You know, Mr. Morales, if this is so much more interesting and important than my lesson, why don’t I show the class?”
“Wait! Ms. Llorente, that is really not necessary,” he awkwardly laughs. “You really don’t need to—”
It was the one he was still working on, and she was showing the entire class.
Miles immediately sinks into his chair, covering his face with his hands.
“Look at what Miles has to share with the class,” she says.
You look at the drawing, noticing it’s a girl sitting at a desk reading a book with AirPods in, wearing—
One kid says your name, asking if that's you.
“Looks like it,” someone replies.
The attention is no longer only on Miles as you sit awkwardly in your chair, feeling like your face is about to burn off because of how hot it is.
Miles looks between his fingers to peek at your reaction, and he immediately feels worse.
You’re just sitting with a tight-lipped smile. He has clearly embarrassed you, and you probably don’t know how to react.
He sees the girl in the desk in front of you lean in to whisper something in your ear, and in response, you shrug.
He heard it, though: ‘I think he likes you.’
“Alright, that's enough. I hope you’ve learned a lesson, Morales,” Ms. Llorente says.
She rests the notebook on his desk, smiling, and gets back to her desk.
He sighs, opening the book to a new page and begins writing notes.
The rest of the class goes by pretty quickly, and before you know it, the bell rings.
Miles is putting away his notebook when you come up to him.
“Hey… I, uhm, liked your drawing,” you say.
“Oh, thanks.” Miles scratches the back of his neck.
“Could I perhaps see it again?” You ask.
He’s slightly hesitant. “You sure you want to?”
You nod. The smile on your face is shy, but your eyes are inquiring.
He takes out his notebook to find the page of the drawing he had just made.
You stand patiently, hands at your sides, and that look of curiosity still on your face. Everyone else is leaving the classroom for lunch, including Ms. Llorente, so it’s just the two of you now.
“It’s not finished yet, but…” He puts it on the table.
It takes a moment for you to just look at it closely, appreciating the detail that went into this unfinished piece. It really looks just like you.
“Did you draw this just now?” you ask. “At the start of class?”
He watches you smile at the drawing, faintly tracing over it with your finger.
“You’re very talented,” you say.
“Thanks,” he says as his face heats up again, but this time it's not from embarrassment.
“Wait, I actually have something to show you,” you say.
You place your backpack on another empty desk. Miles sees you looking through it before you pull out a small black notebook. He assumes it’s a notebook, but it’s clearly a sketchbook.
You look through the pages, taking your time to find the right one.
When you do, you put the open sketchbook to your chest.
“Okay, now you have to promise not to judge,” you whisper.
Miles can see the hesitation and unease in your posture and your face, but you were making direct eye contact with him.
So, not wanting you to feel that way around him, he sits up and nods.
“I promise,” he says firmly.
It was him sitting during lunch. There was a faint outline of Ganke, but most of the focus was on him.
He had a serene smile on his face as his eyes crinkled. His nose, his lips, and his eyebrows were all so very accurate. You had even used colored pencils.
You mess with your hair—still using one hand to hold the sketchbook—as you watch his eyes light up and eyebrows raise.
“Thanks, gotta go.” You quickly close the sketchbook and put your backpack on. “Nice talking to you.”
You’re already walking to the door, though.
“You’re very talented too!” he says.
You falter in your steps and come to a stop. The corners of your mouth slightly lift upward.
“That's a lot coming from you, Morales,” you respond, glancing at him.
You walk out the door, leaving Miles to freak out. Wow, that just for real happened.
He packs up his stuff, knowing this was going to be the only thing he was thinking about for the rest of the day.
