Earth 42 Miles Morales - Tumblr Posts

😭😭😭😭😭

Listen my guy I got something I want to request like it's angst like ANGST ANGST bro like ite miles 45 fighting spider women or man reader and miles won and killed us and when he took of the mask it was us! HIS GIRLFRIEND OR BOYFRIEND! Like and can you recreate the scene when Peter got killed by king pin? But it's us and miles

Don't have to do this request and if you do can you make it angst with no happy ending or fluff? Unless it's at the beginning or he's remembering happy moments with us

🧑🏼‍🦲👹

I Am So Sorry Mi Ángel (Earth 42 Miles x Spiderwoman!Reader)

Summary: Up on top :)

WARNINGS: Gore and angst, mentions of death and killing

Author’s Note: I would love to do this!! Sorry it took so long I just figured out how to get my inbox 🥲 Anyways I didn’t know how much I liked and how good I was writing angst even though I don’t read it often 😭 also after writing this I was thinking about write a part 2 if anyone wants one 🤫

You’re on your last leg, your last breath. You layed underneath the ruble of the colapsed collider with your back against a broken piece of concrete. A pain spread through your body from your ribs, your ankles were very likely to be sprained or even broken, your back was scratched and sore, you wre in pain. It was hard to breath even though you were trying to relax. But you knew you couldn’t, you needed to run from the Prowler.

You heard footsteps from the rubble and you snap your head up, which caused a painful cramp to spasm your head. There he was, the Prowler, right in front of you with his claw open, walking up to you like a predator. You flip your body over meekly onto your stomach and tried to crawl away pathetically. Fear spread through your body, there was nothing you could do you were going to be killed, a meer teenager.

You feel a strong hand on the back of your neck and you eyes widened in fear. Your limp body is lifted up and turned around to face the mask you feared the most. His non-clawed hand holding you up by your throat, your airway being blocked. You begin to cough and your vision goes blurry as it goes in and out. Your hands try and pry the hand off but the grip only got stronger.

His claw wide open, slashes at your gut, an immediate feeling of warm blood began to run down your legs. You couldn’t yell, you couldn’t scream, you couldn’t do anything. This was the end of the line for you, you won’t be able to see your parents, you won’t be able to keep the city safe, you won’t be able to be here for your Miles.

The claw balls up into a fist and punches you in the gut. Your mouth falls open, pain staticing throughout your whole body, everything began to feel cold, there was no more warmth in your body.

The only thought you could conjure was Miles. You were not going to see Miles anymore, this morning at school was the last time you were going to see Miles. You won’t be able to have the feeling of love from him no more. Then a different pain went through your body when a single reminder went through your head, you were going to give Miles the bracelet you made for him tomorrow, for your one year anniversary. The bracelet which beads were made from the roses he gave you last month for Valentine’s Day.

“M-miles…” The last thought and last word you said before fate took you.

The Prowler looked at you with wide eyes. Your blood dripped down his claw as he withdrew it from your stomach. Your body fell limp in his hand and he carefully placed your down on the concrete. He took his hand off of your neck and looked down at your lifeless body. He then realized, by the maturity of your body you were only a teenager, no older than him.

His heart raced at the realization that he had taken a teenager’s life. Just as he was about to get up he thought about it, people are going to know who Spider-Woman is. He wanted to know, he needed to know who he killed and not just Spider-Woman.

He liftd his finger underneath the hem of your mask and his heart dropped. Just from the lips and nose he knew who it was. He had kissed those lips just a few hours ago, he had kissed that nose when you fell asleep on his chest. He fully yanked your mask off and his fear and regret fell over him. His mask retracted and now it was just you and him, face to face. His own love in front of him, lifeless, due to him. The claw retracted from his hand from a loud thud and he quickly pulled your shoulders up and held you against his chest.

The tears finally fell, his lips quivered, and a loud cry of distress came from his lungs. He buried his nose into your neck which was bruised from his hand.

“Mi c-corazon…” He cried out as he pulled you away and looked at your face.

Your body limp in his hand as one of his hands held your back and the other up to your cheek. Your eyes were lifeless, cloudy, and your mouth was agape with small drips of blood from your lips. He hated this cite of you, he wanted to protect you from the world. He would have burned down the world for you, he wanted to in this very moment if that he meant he could have you back. He was a monster.

“No, no, no, no, mi corazon please.” Miles cried out helpless remarks as he eagerly moved his hand around your body.

First from your face, to your neck hoping that he could find a pulse, none. Then to your chest, no heartbeat. Then to your wrist, no pulse. He looked at your eyes as his eyes filled with tears, they use to be so full of love and happiness. He imaged your smile that caused your eyes to close, but your face was nothing like that. No happiness, no smile, just lifeless.

He looked up as his tears fell down his cheeks. He held to your body, knowing this would be the last time he could ever touch you again.

“You,” He said talking to God. “you gotta be playing games with me. First my pops now her.” He pleaded. “Why her?”

He cried into your hair as he closed your eyes with his fingers. He held your face as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead. Your skin was cold which made him cry more. His lips went down to your’s, hoping he could feel a sign of life from them. There was none, there was no press back from you as he kissed your lips, they were cold. Miles drew away only a couple inches away from your lips as his lips quivered in front of you.

“I am so sorry mi ángel.”

——

He walked around your empty cold room as he heard his mom talking to your parents just in the living room.

“I am so sorry for your lost.” He heard his mom say.

He looked around the room full of posters with clothes pouring out of your closet. It felt like the skin of you, the room looked like you but had none of the happiness it use to give him every time he came into it to find you on your bed. It felt cold and empty, lifeless. Today would have been your guys’ one year anniversary, the thought of it weighted on his heart. He walked over to your desk to see what your last art projects were to try and salvage any part of you so he could possibly keep you in his life.

There were multiple drawings and sketches of him that you drew to practice anatomy on your pinboard above your desk. There were many pictures pinned as well with you two. He looked down and he saw a small gift bag on your desk. He opened the tag which read, To: Mi Vida From: Tu Corazón. His heart picked up.

He hesitantly pulled out the tissue paper and saw a small bracelet a long with a card. He pulled out the card and took the letter out of the envelope.

‘Happy One Year Mi Vida!!!

365 days later and you still deal with me. I made your gift (like always) out of the roses you gave me for Valentine’s Day :). I love you so much Miles and I can’t wait for more years to come <3.

-Love, Tu Corazón’

A pain came to Miles’ heart, knowing that there will be no more years to come with you and him together. He reaches inside of the bag and pulls out an elastic beaded bracelet with dark red beads. He immediately put it on his wrist and reached I side of his jacket pocket. He pulled out your torn up, bloody mask from last night. It was one of the last things he had of you left. He held it to his forehead, imagining that your face is still underneath the mask to comfort him. But it wasn’t.

He had destroyed you with his own hands, he could not forgive himself for that. He had killed the one person that saw him in the way he didn’t, an actual human being and not a monster. But now after what he did he could only think of himself as a monster.

“I am so sorry, mi corazón.” He said through silent cries as he kept your mask close to his face.

The new Gacha Life.

reblog this if you think funko should make an earth 42 miles funko pop

it's a need not a want

if they ever release one i will buy it in a HEARTBEAT

kilometer morales confirmed vigalante

KEEP STLL 🖇️ EARTH-42 MILES MORALES

pairings. e-42 miles, reader

genre. fluff, drabble

note. spanish lines were directly translated from google! please let me know if something needs to be corrected huhu thank you!

rough and calloused hands enveloped your waist, finding home on the curve of your back.

"you're being dramatic," you huffed, rolling your eyes as you leaned back to take a good look at your boyfriend's face. he keeps his eyes shut tight, eyebrows furrowed. "it's literally just make-up, miles."

he cracks one eye open, glaring at you half-heartedly. you feel his hold on your waist tighten, "are you extra positively sure you won't poke my eye with that?" he asks with a low grunt, his pupil glancing at the eyeliner you were holding before bringing it back to look at your face. "what if i go blind?"

you looked at him unamused. "you will if you won't keep still," you gesture at his knees that were kept bouncing, shifting on your position on his lap.

miles pursed his lips. although he's happy that you were giving him your full, umdivided attention right now, he didn't know what to feel when you decided to barge into his house unannounced at exactly 12AM with the sudden declaration that you wanted to put eyeliner on his—as you quote, 'his pretty eyes that you envy so much.'

it's not that he dislikes the idea of make-up. on the contrary, he's actually quite happy and very willing to indulge you with whatever you decide to do. if it means getting to see you smile and be all excited like a child in a candystore, then he'd do anything; even if it means you barging in at midnight, waking him up from his much needed slumber, just so you could put make-up on him in the pretense of making him 'prettier' than he already is.

"you know que mami puede entrar en cualquier momento, right?" (you do know that my mami can barge in any second, right?) he says, closing his eyes the second time when you leaned forward once more to continue working on your little project. he lets you tilt his head slightly to the side, feeling your other hand getting nearer to his face. he breathes out, and you could feel his warm breath fan the skin of your hand.

"she'll flip once she sees you on top of me like this."

you chuckled at the thought, imagining his mother's flabbergasted expression if she ever did barge in to his room. "she's seen worse," he lets out a low laugh at your response but immediately kept still when he felt the cold tip of your eyeliner press lightly on his eyelid.

"hold still, amor." you whispered as you started drawing a careful line on one of his eyelid. you received a low hum, his fingers drumming on the skin of your back in order to keep himself entertained while you do your thing.

drawing only took a little less than fifteem minutes, leaning back to check if they were even and you couldn't help but grin at how he looked so pretty with the eyeliners on. "i'm done, mi musa~" you sang, patting his cheeks gently to get him to open his eyes as you shuffles to stand up and get the mirror from his bed.

miles snorts lightly from his given nickname, shaking his head at your antics. "i better look good in this or you'll never be touching my face again."— lies, you thought, he loves you too much to mean that.

you handed him the mirror, placing a quick kiss on his lips before strutting off to his table in order to fix the make-up kit you brought with you. your lover stays on his seat, whistling as he admired your work and how it looked good on him more than he thought it would.

"man," he starts and you hear him roll his chair towards you. you feel his arms encircling your waist, his hands finding themselves intertwining with yours. "i do look pretty in these, huh."

and that's why miles started wearing eyeliners during his patrol as the prowler—not that anyone will see aside from his uncle though.

*Miles popping into Earth-42*

Miles: Hey dude! I’m kind of in the middle of a big fight right now with some enhanced villains. Wanna hop over and punch them really hard? Come on, I know you wanna punch them really hard.

Miles G: (drops the thug he was threatening) Yeah sure.

*an hour later on Earth-1610*

Miles: (throwing Rhino over to Miles G like he weighs nothing) BATTER UP

Miles G: (laughing maniacally as he punches him into the sun with his Prowler gauntlet)

Gwen, Pavitr, and Peter B: Well, at least they’re having fun.

could you do like a bookworm kinda quiet reader with E42 Miles?????

I Always Got You, Got That?

Characters: E42!Miles Morales x Fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Going on an impromptu bookstore shopping run. (Requested) Thanks for the request sweets 🖤

Warning: none :)

While sipping your coffee, you continued to walk throughout the mall when you spotted the bookstore. It was practically calling your name but you didn’t have enough money and you already took too much from Miles.

You weren’t exactly sure about what his job actually is, but he made a lot of money from doing that. So realistically he wouldn’t have a problem with you asking but you didn’t wanna seem like some gold-digger. Your mama raised you better than that.

“You wanna go in there?” Miles asked you. He caught you eyeing the place but was confused as to why you didn’t go in.

“Oh, no. We don’t have to go on and it’s probably boring for you,” you answer and turn back around.

“Nah, nah.” He takes your hand and starts pulling you into the store. “If you wanna go in, then go in. And don't worry about the price, you know I always got you.”

“But you already spent a lot on me,” you argue. And he has. Last week, he took you on a date to a fancy restaurant and the week before that a concert to see your favorite artist. Both of those were extremely expensive and you felt guilty about it when you searched up the prices.

“Because as my girlfriend, you deserve to be spoiled. It’s how I show my love.” He gives you a playful pout and comes closer to you, “Are you gonna stop me from showing you how much I love you?”

“Of course not,” you're quick to say.

He gives you a smirk, “Good.” He drags you into the store, “Now shop to your heart’s desire, okay?”

You nod and go deeper into the store. You pick up some books that caught your eye and put them back because they didn’t interest you as much as the others. You weren’t that greedy.

Little did you know Miles was behind you and picking the books back up to buy them. He watched as you went around the store, going into different sections; YA, Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Romance, etc.

Miles loved seeing you smile as your fingers glided on the book spines, he loved the way your eyes lit up as they read the summary of the book. He loved how you talked so passionately about the books you’ve read and are planning to read. The ones you loved with all of your heart and the ones you hate with every fiber of your being.

You turned around to see Miles carrying a stack of books that pales in comparison to the ones you have in your hand. When you looked closer, it was every book that you liked but put back.

“Miles…” you narrow your eyes at him and walk back to meet up with him. “Why are you picking up these books? I didn’t take you for a fan of romance.”

“1, don’t put me into a box and 2, you can’t carry all these books so I’m carrying them for you. That’s why you put them back because they were getting heavy,” he explains and lies without any shame knowing damn well that’s not the reason.

“Now Miles.” You say and stare up at the ceiling to combat the incoming headache. He doesn’t have to keep spending all this money on you.

“Hey.” Miles called out to you and lifted your head by your chin to meet his eyes. “Listen I told you this before and I will tell this until you get it through that pretty little head of yours, hermosa. My money is yours, okay. You need something you got, you want something you got. I’ve always got you, got that?”

He was being so intense about this which was unusual for him since he’s probably the most nonchalant guy you knew. You suspected there was more to this issue, but you decided not to push it. With being a nonchalant, Miles is also not the most emotionally vulnerable person in the world.

You give him a smile, “Okay then, don’t come crying when I drain your bank account.” You turn to continue shopping, being more liberal in your choosing. And where do you put all the books you pick up? Right in Miles’ hand.

He chuckles at your response and carries the mounting books with ease, “Trust, you won’t hear a peep outta me.”

Tags: @butterfi, @justbeethings, @jam-skullz, @zomb1te, @dreamxcollide, @shibble, @sleepdeprivationis4coolkids, @somber-starz, @maypersonne, @hoeboat101, @rosebunny, @midnight-the-shadow-wolf, @mur-docs, @eight-cats-in-a-box, @emgavi, @sawi-06, @707xn, @niktwazny303, @nagi3seastorm, @ghostsimp000, @cloudstrifefantatic, @vixqn, @yourtsahik, @angelzira, @im-jisoo-im-okay, @andhdi68a, @itstooearly-its3am, @universallypeanutpizzapersona, @sodapopzds, @sciamachy-after-dusk, @peter-parkers-gf, @liural, @mewzxz, @star-light18464, @gricelovesu, @wraithlueintheirlittleworld, @targaryenstormborn

Taglist & Masterlist & Reqs Info

Reqs are open!!

— matching nails

pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader

summary: you ask miles if the two of you can paint your nails a matching color. wc: 476

contains: fluff, slightly posessive!miles

word bank: “princesa” - princess

you’re seated sideways in your boyfriend’s lap with your legs hung over his, trying— and failing to convince him to participate in a cute couple’s idea you found on tiktok.

“hell no.” the rejection comes even faster than you’d expected, a glum frown turning the corners of your lips downwards. you pout up at miles disappointedly, who is somehow still unmoved by your used-to-be undefeated persuasion tactic.

“but-“ you start.

“nah, no way princesa.” he interjected firmly, his fingers warm where they rested, curled over the skin of your exposed waist just beneath the hem of your crop top. “trippin’.” his chuckle lacked a single shred of humor.

you huffed, arms crossing and eyes rolling. “it’s just nail polish, miles, it’s not that big of a deal. you don’t wanna match with me?”

“shit, we can match some jordan’s. just lemme know what pair you want.” he snorted, finding your little tantrum adorable.

he obviously wasn’t taking you or your idea seriously, so you simply shrugged your shoulders and sighed dramatically. “fine, i’ll just ask someone else to do it with me then.” you mumbled, moving to stand up as you reached towards the desk for your phone.

“who?” his brow quirked, the vagueness of your statement peaking his interest almost instantly.

“chris.” you stated casually, his hand dragging down your hip as you moved out of reach.

“chris?” he parroted, the sound of the name drawn out in disbelief as it expelled from his mouth. the drastic change in his expression paired with the incredulous tone of his voice was comical, and you had to restrain yourself from laughing at his reaction to the mention of your made-up-guy-friend. “who the hell is chris?” his two braids draped over his shoulders when he sat up, forearms perched on his basketball short-clad thighs as he suspiciously watched you unlock your phone without answering him.

he kissed his teeth and impatiently leaned forward, his pointer finger hooking onto the belt loop of your jean shorts to swiftly yank you back over to him. with a squeal you stumbled back into his lap, your phone snatched from you at the speed of light and tossed over onto your bed a few feet away, your mouth slightly agape and hands still in the shape of what they were previously holding.

“you play too damn much.” his voice was low, brooding as he stared daggers into your eyes. “so who’s your lil’ friend? chris, right? he go to your school? you never mentioned him to me before.” once the questions started coming and his head tilted to the side with that familiar glint in his eye, you knew better than to keep the gag going, even if it was fun to see him squirm.

you shifted in his lap as your legs swung back and forth, an attempt to distract him from the playful smirk that threatened to expose itself on your expression, but he saw it anyway as you quickly shook your head. “no, baby, i was just kidding.”

“aw yeah, that’s what i thought.” he huffed out what was meant to be a laugh, sizing you up with a brief warning glance. you could tell he was thinking it over, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek when he glanced away, and a smile slowly grew on your face as he exhaled a heavy sigh. you always got what you wanted.

“show me the color you want us to do, mama.”

— extra scene

a/n: nah cause just imagine miles leaving with his uncle for a job, and as he goes to slide his mechanical gauntlet on, Aaron catches a glimpse of his nails and is like ??? 😭 imagine getting your ass handed to you by the prowler and bro has hearts painted on his nails

“hold on, lemme see your hand.”

it’s not like he had a choice, seeing as his uncle was already reaching for his wrist. miles wanted to stop him, but he knew it was no use, his hand limp in his uncle’s hold as it was pulled forward and brought closer for inspection.

“the hell you got your nails painted for, man?your girl made you do this or sum?” with an eyebrow raised he studied his nephew’s camouflaged expression, laughter tumbling from his lips when the boy grumbled a quiet ‘chill’, snatched his arm back and let his mask close over his face to hide the subtle tint of embarrassment blossoming on his cheeks.

- please do not copy, plagiarize, or repost my works to other platforms.

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!

— roller skating

pairing: e-42!miles (aged up) x fem!reader

contains: romance, slightlyyy (barely) suggestive fluff

summary: you and miles go on a date to the roller rink and you have a hard time picking up the skill. you ask him to demonstrate for you and he obliges, but you’re so caught up in him that you’re not sure you learned anything at all. wc: 1,254

a/n: if you want to listen to the song mentioned while reading, i suggest you start it when you come across the spotify link i added during the exact scene it’s playing in the story. i highly recommend waiting until prompted so you can experience exactly what reader did cause chileeee. it hits differenttt like i fr made myself fall in love with this one 😭 also if you didn’t know, this is the exact vibe of a black roller rink lol. example 2

🎧: Close To You - Dreezy, T-Pain

“miles, i’m going to fall.” you whined nervously, your body basically glued to the length of your boyfriend’s right arm.

“you won’t ma, i got you.”

he laughed gently at your uneasy stance, and secretly at how terrified you were of participating in what’s been one of his favorite activities since he was a child.

his skates rolled smoothly against the floor as he guided the both of you to the rink; but yours, however, awkwardly clunked around as you settled for taking wary steps, instead of actually gliding like you were supposed to.

how you ended up agreeing to a date at the roller rink with miles was beyond you. you were someone who tripped over your own two feet at least twice a day from simply trying to walk. but with his promise of teaching you and his guarantee of going slow, your nerves had dissipated some— until you’d actually slipped the skates on and got out onto the rink.

“don’t pick your feet up mama. just push them out to the side, one after the other and lean your body forward. you got it.”

you heard his instructions loud and clear, but your brain still struggled to send the correct signals to your unsophisticated body.

you wobbled against the browned, laminated wood, not really a fan of your newfound lack of control when it came to your own legs. right hand hovered out beside you in preparation for a tumble, the fingers of your left were tightly clamped around miles’ bicep as an effort to keep your balance. you had a death grip on him, too focused on not eating shit to wonder if you were hurting him or not. you weren’t, but even if you were, he wouldn’t tell you.

“you’re overthinkin’ it.” he smiled down at you, finding your instinctive need to hold onto him adorable.

“how the hell do you do this without falling flat on your ass?” you asked, already exasperated from your short trek from the bench.

“i’m just like that.” he shrugged suavely, chuckling discreetly when your head turned towards him with a pointed glare. “practice. my moms taught me when i was eight,” he rephrased, and you stumbled suddenly, but he quickly caught you by your arm, two strong hands steadying you before your feet could sweep out from under you.

“okay, no, this isn’t gonna work,” a shaky breath pushed passed your lips and somehow you managed to bring the both of you to a stop over by the wall of the rink, hand instantly finding purchase on the railing. “can you just, i don’t know… demonstrate, first?” you waved your hand around, motioning towards the other people out on the floor to get your point across. “maybe if i watch you do it, it’ll come to me easier.”

he nodded, retreating from you slowly, backwards. he gestured back and forth between the both of you with his finger, your eyes unintentionally falling to it. “eyes on me, aight?” he instructed with a subtle smirk, a sultry trace lingering in his tone.

you couldn’t take them off him even if you tried, so that wouldn’t be a problem.

you were convinced your attraction towards this man couldn’t become any stronger than it already was, until “Close To You” by Dreezy started playing through the speakers and the spot lights on the ceiling dimmed dreamily to a mellowed pink, blue, and orange— blending into a seductive mix of captivating hues that illuminated the rink. you felt yourself swoon, and had half a mind to curse out whoever was on music and lighting for aiding in the palpitations of your heart as your eyes followed your boyfriend closely.

you watched his feet first, as one fanned out in a small half-circle after the other, the movement allowing him to skillfully glide out onto the bustling rink.

how he was able to skate backwards when you had such a hard time grasping the concept of even doing it the normal way, you didn’t know. not to mention sifting through people without bumping into a single one of them. and while the technique of it all seemed simple on paper, what really impressed you was how effortless he made it look.

facing the opposite way of everybody else as he cruised, his hips languidly swayed to the beat of the music, upper body leaning just the slightest with them and you had no choice but to gawk at him— at how handsome he looked, at how good he was at this. at how his lips were absentmindedly tucked into themselves due to his focus, then unfurled to faintly mouth the lyrics.

lord have mercy.

you were mesmerized to say the least, lips parted somewhat and mouth dry. it was like everyone else had disappeared, like the two of you were the only ones in the room; time moving slower than it usually did.

once he started enjoying himself and got into a groove, he’d forgotten you were even watching him, until he caught your marveling eyes transfixed on him from across the rink, chin dropping to his chest for a beat as he simpered to himself. tongue wetting his lips, he shook his head in amusement. he already knew why you were looking at him like that.

with one foot expertly crossing in front of the other periodically, he maneuvered himself through a few stragglers with a brief look over his shoulder, swiftly spinning around a couple that happened to be in his way.

yeah, now he was just showing off.

you had no idea what your face looked like, but as he rounded back over to where you were, he laughed at your awestruck expression and called out to you.

“you droolin’, mami!”

if your jaw wasn’t already dropped from watching him nonchalantly coast around, it definitely was now.

your fingers mindlessly rushed to check, because honestly you wouldn’t be surprised if you were, only for a playful glower to settle onto your face when you realized he was messing with you.

having forgotten you were supposed to try for yourself, your eyes widened in slight panic when he suddenly skated over to you and gently took your hand, pulling you out onto the floor against your will.

“no no no no-!”

“cálmate, mama.” he drawled, his words dragging on as he shot you that same charming smile that’d made you fall in love with him in the first place. “i’ll hold you, no te preocupes (don’t worry). just c’mere,”

you gave him a look of uncertainty, but reluctantly moved your feet just enough to get closer to him anyway. he met you halfway, and snaked his right arm around your waist, expertly turning you so your backside was facing him before he pulled you flush against his body, and your teeth found your bottom lip before you could stop them.

his left arm then came around to your front to meet the other and your lungs drew in a wavered breath at the feeling of his hands resting on the soft of your inner thighs, dangerously close to having your knees buckling. your face bloomed with a sweltering heat, mind entirely corrupted by him and him only. how the intoxicating aroma of his dior sauvage cologne invaded your nostrils; how it felt being against him like this. lashes fluttering and mind turning to putty at the way he was holding you, your warning to him was merely a whispered reminder.

“miles.”

“shhh, i know what i’m doin’.” his response had a double meaning to it as he kept you tightly pressed to him, figure hunched over yours a bit. his breath warmed your skin and his lips brushed the shell of your ear when he spoke, his hands tapping rhythmically against your thighs to keep up with the beat of the song while he helped guide you into the same fluid movement he’d demonstrated prior.

your hands came down to rest overtop his, and you were shocked at the way your body naturally began to sway in sync along with his once you let yourself relax into him; the both of you settling into a comfortable stroll.

“ves, ¿que te dije? (see, what’d i tell you?)” he teased, his voice a deep hum against your cheek. “you got it.”

- please don’t plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to any other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

miles “i got it” morales earth 42 miles 591 words

Between the both of you, Miles is always the first to stand up when the bell rings at the end of class. With all the textbooks you bring to school, he knows your backpack is just one mechanical pencil away from hitting a ton and for that reason he never lets you carry it yourself. In fact, he makes it his mission to pick it up before you do. With his own backpack on one shoulder, he’ll watch for the exact moment you’re done tucking your supplies away just to interrupt you as you’re mid-reach so he can scoop it up into his free hand by the top handle.

“I got it.”

Miles always pays for you guys’ dates. You knew this wasn’t abnormal when it came to relationships, seeing as he’s the guy, you’re the girl, and that’s just the ‘societal norm’ or whatever. It’s how your dad told you a male should treat the girl he’s with, and based off how Miles acts, you assumed his own father had given him the same speech as well before he passed. But even when you two take a stroll to the corner store to pick up some cheap snacks for a study session—the total coming out to as little as $4.37 for some sunchips and sour gummy worms—he still won’t let you pay.

He’s already getting his wallet out before the cashier can read the total off. And when you try and protest, he’s all—

“I got it.”

When your laces have come undone and you hadn’t noticed.

“Ma, your shoe’s untied.”

You’ll stop in your tracks and look down at your loosened laces, prepared to hand your phone off to him so you can bend down to tie them, and like always—

“I got it.”

When the pizza you ordered an hour ago finally shows up at the door and you get the ‘arrived’ notification on your phone—which he’s already seen because he’s always looking over your shoulder as you scroll your time away on tiktok, watching them with you as an excuse to be all up on you—you can bet your life on what his response will be.

“I got it.”

You knew he only wanted to be a gentleman, but at this point, you were convinced ‘I got it’ was his middle name instead of Gonzalo.

For a while now, Miles has felt like he has to take responsibility and do everything even when something isn’t asked of him, and you wanted him to know that same sentiment didn’t have to apply to the two of you. So you started trying to beat him at his own game.

Brushing past him and rushing down the concrete steps of his apartment building to make it to the passenger side door and open it for yourself before he can.

Keeping your backpack on the opposite side of your desk so you can have the chance to pick it up before him, even if it earns you a subtle glare each time. And while some days it really is too heavy for you to carry—heavy enough to make you question exactly what point you’re trying to prove here—you remain determined.

Having cash ready and smacking it down on the peeling countertop of the bodega before your snacks have even been rung up, and regardless of how insane you look and how the clerk squeezes his face at you to confirm that, the triumphant grin you give Miles (who’s struggling to contain a smile of his own) doesn’t falter.

“I got it.”

Spider-Verse Masterlist

Miles Morales

Rough-Housing With Miles Morales

Earth 42 Miles Morales

Second Chance

His Second Chance

Earth 42!Miles Morales x Affectionate!Reader

Reader Gets Into A Fight For Him

Gwen Stacy

Stealing Gwen Stacy's Clothes

Hobie Brown

Loading...

Pavitr Prabhakar

Moving Away From Pavitr Prabhakar

Back In His Arms

Hey sweetie, I’ve been a real big fan. Can you write some HCS or a fic about the both Miles being twins?

a/n: ABSOLUTELY 10000% YES. i had way too much fun with this oml. and omg thank you you’re so sweet! 😭 btw, let’s just pretend that in this au they don’t have the same name since they’re ‘twins’ lmao

— headcanons. miles and miles as twins

Twins? Yes. Polar opposites? Definitely.

They both have a completely different sense of style, but one thing they have in common is that they both love Jordan’s. However I feel like miles!42 is a full blown sneakerhead. Has the better collection and often finds miles!1610 wearing his shoes, because somehow 42 always manages to win the snkrs raffles.

“Are those my brand new fuckin’ 4s?” “Uh… no?” “Take my shit off before I tweak out.”

42 keeps his side of the room squeaky clean, gets upset if there’s even a sock that does not belong to him on his side

Absolutely hates the song Sunflower. Cannot stand it, makes him wanna rip his hair out. The minute it came out 1610 played it into the dirt and 42 swears he can still hear it in his dreams till this day

1610 is the more affectionate one (outwardly) while 42 likes to pretend he’s completely devoid of that as if he doesn’t love his brother with everything in him.

“You got exactly three seconds to get off me.” “Just hug me back, damn!”

They’re the kind of brothers to open soundcloud, turn on a random trap beat and see who can go the longest freestyling. They do that thing where guys bring their fist to their mouths and squeal and shove each other out of excitement when they get a good flow going back and forth

42 is definitely the athletic type, plays football and soccer. 1610 is more in tune with his artistic side. Will play sports for fun but doesn’t care for them like that

42 is introverted as hell, doesn’t really like talking to people. 1610 is more of a social butterfly

They’ve never once liked the same girl. Ever. Their taste is drastically different

“Bro, you like a white girl?” “…Yes? What does her race have to do with anything?” “See me personally—“. “Literally nobody fucking asked.”

Used to help each other break out of their cribs when they were babies. Either that or Jeff and Rio would wake up to find that 42 had climbed into 1610’s crib after they’d been put down and slept with him instead. it was impossible to keep them apart from each other, so eventually they just broke down the second crib and let them use the one.

You can tell who is who in their baby pictures. You guessed it, 42 was the oddly solemn one who always wanted to play by himself. They worried about him for a bit. They also had to tickle him as an attempt to get him to smile in pictures, and just their luck, he’s never been ticklish

When they were eight years old, 1610 accidentally broke the wolverine action figure 42 never went anywhere without, and 42 cried about it for three days straight

They definitely ask for each other’s opinions on their outfits

“Do you think this shirt goes with these pants?” “The entire outfit is black… how would it not go together?”

They both obviously love their mother but 42 is the biggest mama’s boy. Always in the kitchen helping her cook, will watch her telenovelas with her and actually keep up with the plot. He’ll willingly follow her to the grocery store or accompany her on her ridiculously long Ross/Tjmaxx sprees because he likes hanging out with her

They terrorize the fuck outta their dad and have been doing so since they entered this world because they think it’s funny. Stupid shit like dying his boxers pink, or looking up a cracked tv screen video on youtube just to watch him nearly have a heart attack thinking they broke it. They used to twin-swap when they were younger to get out of certain things, but it’s 100% impossible to pull off now. They’re way too different, physically and mentally

Uncle Aaron took 42 to get his ears pierced when he was thirteen, something 1610 would never do. Rio basically had an aneurysm when he came home with them in and Jeff was not pleased but Aaron took the blame for it, said it was his idea. 42 made up some bullshit lie about how if he takes them out before they heal completely they’ll get infected. Still has them in till this day

42 is exactly fourteen minutes older and refuses to let 1610 hear the end of it, but 1610 is taller by an inch and weighs a little more.

“I don’t know why you’re talking shit like I’m not older than you. Pipe down lil’ bro.” “Sorry, is someone talking to me right now? Cause I sure as hell can’t see ‘em.” “Nigga it’s ONE INCH”

They’re definitely scrapping over that, and both get smacked upside their heads by Mama Rio for fighting with each other

42 needs the tv and the fan on, SIMULTANEOUSLY when he sleeps or he’ll be up the entire night. 1610 can’t stand it

1610 will try and turn the fan off after his brother’s been asleep for probably two hours, thinking he’s in the clear until he hears—

“Do you value your life? Turn my damn fan back on.”

Deep down 42 is a big ass softie and loves spending time with 1610, he has no idea what he’d do without him. He’s just not the best at expressing it. 1610 teases him about it simply because he enjoys aggravating his other half

“You still got plans with Ganke tonight?” “Nah, his mom’s dragging him to some baby shower.” “Oh, cool, cool… So what movie are we watching?” “Huh?” “Huh—Headass. What movie are we watching tonight?” “Sorry, I’m not understanding. Are you—asking to spend time… with me?” “Damn, I need to say it in Spanish? Matter fact, you probably won’t understand that either. No sabo ass.”

e42 miles reaction to his gf calling him bro?

I LOVE THIS PROMPT OMG

NOT YOUR BRO ✮ e!42 miles x fem reader

You and Miles were in the kitchen helping Rio cook dinner. Halfway through making dinner, Rio had to make an emergency stop at the grocery store, claiming that she’d forgotten the most crucial ingredient in the recipe. 

“You kids stay here and finish up dinner while I go grab the onions,” She said, quickly taking off her apron and grabbing her purse.

“Mami I’ll go, it’s not safe out there right now,” Miles interjected.

Rio shook him off, “It’s just across the street Mijo, you stay here and help y/n with dinner,” And with that, Rio was gone.

A comfortable silence fell upon the kitchen as you and Miles continued to make dinner, that was until Miles began to cut the tomatoes…

“Bro what are you doing! You’re gonna cut yourself!” You cried, quickly grabbing the knife from Miles’ hand. “That’s not how you hold a knife Miles, you have to grip it tighter,” You scolded, before demonstrating to him how to cut the tomatoes.

Miles stared at you blankly, not even paying attention to what you were saying, “Hey are you even listening to me right now Miles?” You asked annoyed.

“What’d you call me earlier?” Miles asked completely ignoring your question.

“Miles that’s not important right now I’m trying to teach-”

Miles began to walk towards you until your back was to the kitchen counter, he was towering over you. You looked up at him with concerned eyes.

“What was it that you called me earlier huh? Your bro?” Miles leaned in closer, your faces only a few inches apart, “I’m not your bro y/n.”

You stayed silent, not knowing what to say to Miles’ sudden outburst. He chuckled, “Wow baby, now you decide to be silent, huh?” 

“Tell me what I am y/n.”

“Y-You’re my boyfriend Miles.” 

“Now that wasn’t so hard to say, was it? I better not catch you calling me bro again ma,” He said before leaning in for a kiss.

Suddenly the apartment door busted open and in came Rio, “MILES COME HELP ME WITH THE GROCERIES.”

a/n: i hope this was good!! feel free to request me shit

earth 42 miles reaction to reader hanging up the phone on his face mid argument?

— facetime

pairing: e-42!miles (aged up) x fem!reader

contains: arguing, minimal cursing, slightly toxic behavior lol

summary: you love miles, but his overbearing nature is beginning to irritate you. the two of you get into an argument over it on facetime, and you snap at him and hang up the phone. wc: 1,537

a/n: ik the pic might not make sense regarding who hung up on who, but i like it so we finna pretend it does lol. miles/reader are only aged up for plot

“look mami, you not hearin’ me. i’m not tryna control you, i’m just saying maybe it would be best if-“

“that is literally you trying to control me.”

you cut miles off from another one of his mini tangents as you stared at him through the facetime call on your screen, so far beyond the point of caring to hear the same thing he’d told you a million times.

you loved your boyfriend with everything in you. honestly, you did. but in the last few months he’d grown to be so much more controlling than he was in the beginning, a result of his ridiculous need to protect you and it’s got your head spinning on your shoulders. you couldn’t do anything without him looming over you, and you’re fed up. it was suffocating, and you needed him to know that you could handle yourself.

you heard his voice come in again from your phone’s speakers.

“aight fine, if that’s what you wanna think, then that’s cool. but i don’t want you going out that late, chiquita, simple. ain’t no discussion.”

“alright, bro.” you sighed, and he tutted at you.

“i’m not your ‘bro’. don’t do that.”

while you knew your boyfriend only wanted the best for you, you didn’t really understand the extent to all these rules he’d given you. like no going to the corner store at night, having to keep your location on at all times, or having to send a picture of yourself when you’d gotten back into the house— so he could really make sure it was actually you texting him from your phone.

since then, you’d deemed it safe to assume that he most likely had immense trust issues, and that was why he acted so strangely, because any other reason for this kind of behavior seemed ludicrous to you.

miles had yet to tell you he was the prowler, that certain people had bounties on his head, which included anyone who may be involved with him, anyone he holds close to him. he saw everything that went on in this city— when night had fallen and the streets became far too dangerous of a place for a defenseless girl like you to be out in them. you had no idea the kind of people he dealt with, the things he’d seen, the things he had to do. he just didn’t want you to get hurt, but he wasn’t the best at expressing the sincerity of his words, and they often came out too rough, too harsh. it was the best he could do, he was trying to communicate effectively, he really was. but time and time again you’d failed to try and understand his pleas past the words spoken to you; to actually listen to them, and comprehend them, and not just listen to respond.

so, being you, you retorted like the stubborn girl you always were. the stubborn girl he’d fallen so helplessly in love with and was only trying to protect with his entire being.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him in disbelief. “look, you can’t tell me what to do, miles. i can do what i want.”

he didn’t hear anything that came from your mouth, because the expression on your face had completely distracted him from the conversation at hand.

“hol’ on, did you just roll your eyes at me?” his brow raised, daring you to answer that question with anything but a ‘no’.

what you responded with wasn’t necessarily a ‘yes’ per sé, but it definitely wasn’t any better.

“oh, so you wanna control my face now, too? dictating what i do with my life or the shit i say isn’t enough for you?” you challenged.

his head dipped back as he laughed, a deep, provoked laugh— though the both of you knew nothing was funny, and that this was always how he reacted before he actually got angry. laughing it off was a means for him to screw his head back on right, as if a warning to you to not push him too far, because anybody who spoke to him with this kind of gall just had to be joking.

he exhaled heavily, a hand scrubbing down his face.

“can’t lie, you talkin’ mad crazy right now, ma. i think you need to cool it with that.” he warned, corners of his lips turned into a forewarning leer. “ima let that lil’ shit you just said slide, cause i love you, and ion wanna hurt your feelings, but we done talking about this.” he decided, leaning forward to prop his phone back up on his desk before scooping his playstation controller back up into his hands.

“and watch your mouth.”

chin retreating towards your chest, you were taken aback at how quickly he decided for the both of you that the conversation was over, as if you had to agree with him, as if things were decided simply because he’d said so. and somehow, you found it in all your unbridled nerve to make things worse.

“yeah, you’re right. we are.”

thumb pressing to the red X, you hung up the phone, leaving miles to gape at the black of his screen with shock etched into his features. he waited for you to call back and tell him it was an accident, and sat there for a minute, leg bouncing to maintain what little patience he’d managed to cling onto during this entire ordeal. he swallowed his pride and called you back, only for the screen to read ‘facetime unavailable’ after just two rings. you declined it. squaring his jaw, he calmly nodded to himself, phone snatched up, jacket thrown on and controller tossed onto his bed— game forgotten about.

“bet.”

____

you were fuming after you’d hung up the phone, steam probably would’ve been puffing from your ears if something like that were possible outside of the cartoons. there was a tiny part—no, a huge part of you that knew you shouldn’t have hung up on him like that; that regretted it. a part that knew miles’ was genuinely trying his best to speak to you calmly in the way he’d learned how, specifically for you, when calm was something he rarely ever felt. but you couldn’t help your anger either, and figured a break from the conversation, and a shower to calm you down would do the both of you some good.

you sauntered out your bathroom after about twenty minutes, a towel tightly wrapped round your damp torso and a heavy, depleted exhale departing from your lungs.

you felt relaxed. the heat of the water had washed away most, if not all of your anger towards the situation and you sighed to yourself, ready to come back to the discussion with a level head, and to apologize to your boyfriend for snapping at him and ending the call so abruptly. it was rude of you, and honestly you hadn’t thought it through until you had already—

“you know, ion usually fuck with cats like that, cause y’all kinda freak me out. but you cool.”

the inner dialogue of your thoughts were cut off by a familiar voice, muffled through the shut door of your bedroom.

“what the fuck—“ you hurriedly started towards the door, hand barely remaining on the doorknob for a second as you flung it open, to see none other than your boyfriend, miles, sat in your desk chair with your cat, bella, in his lap.

he was leaned back, his large green puffer jacket still on, legs spread in his grey sweats. he looked very comfortable for someone who had just broken into a home.

“how the hell did you get into my house, miles?”

you stared at him unbelievingly, quickly shutting the door behind you. he was in no rush to lift his head to address you directly as he scratched the underside of bella’s chin with his pointer finger.

“window. you should really lock that.”

“even if i had, you would’ve picked it.” you argued.

“true.”

his eyes eventually met yours, and they gave you a drawn out once over, gaze following the drops of water that rolled down your skin. there was a hint of a smirk on his lips, and he almost forgot what he came here for. almost.

you felt your face heat up, grip tightening over your bath towel as you shifted on your feet, suddenly feeling flustered from the boldness of his gaze. so he looked away.

“let’s hope that shower gave your mama some of her sense back, huh?” he dipped his head down to address your cat in a sweet voice, before gently lifting her off his lap and placing her back onto the floor, only for her to drag her head and body along his calf with a purr. traitor.

he leaned back once more, hands patiently clasped between his open legs and head cocked to the side, twin braids swishing behind him when he did so.

“so wassup? you wanna try that conversation again?” with a brow raised he studied your features, as if he were silently challenging you to talk that same shit you did over the phone to his face.

“do you know what boundaries are?”

“nah, not really.” he admitted.

you swallowed, gesturing towards the open room for a reason you didn’t know why.

“can i at least get dressed first?” you cringed at how your voice sounded when you spoke, but the way he was looking at you had your mind reeling and you could only focus on one thing at a time— the argument long forgotten. to be honest, you don’t even recall what you had a problem with.

he shrugged. “sure, if that’s what you’d like.” arms crossing over his chest he spun around in your swivel chair, now facing the same window he’d come in through. “lemme know when i can turn around.”

you sighed.

this boy was going to be the death of you.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

— broken promises

pairing: earth 42 miles x fem!reader

summary: while earth 42 miles comes off a lot tougher than 1610’s based off his cold demeanor and his trauma induced apathy, somewhere under that hard shell, he’s still the sweet boy he used to be and wants love just like anyone else. miles is aged up to 17 in this, simply for the plot! wc: 2,640

contains: spoilers!!! angst to fluff

word bank: “mi vida” - my life, “mi amor” - my love

playing now: Wasted Love Freestyle by Jhene Aiko

You and Miles have been dating for 7 months now, and lately he hasn’t been around as much as he’d like to, for obvious reasons. Well, not obvious to you. You still don’t know that Miles is the Prowler, and he’s intent on keeping it that way.

It’s the third time he’s flaked on plans he arranged himself this month, and he can tell you’re beyond tired of it with the way you just blew his phone up.

— Miles POV —

Miles’ phone buzzes in his pocket but he decides against checking it, marking it off as something unimportant. He’s already accepted a job from his Uncle and a distraction wouldn’t do him any good right now.

8:03 PM

Mi Vida: please don’t tell me you’re doing this again bro.

Mi Vida: this is a joke, right?

Mi Vida: hello?? you were supposed to be outside thirty minutes ago.

Mi Vida: Miles Gonzalo Morales I swear to GOD if I don’t hear your motorcycle revving outside in the next five minutes so help me.

*buzz buzz*

Ignored.

*buzz buzz*

*buzz buzz*

He kissed his teeth, lashes fluttering in aggravation and air puffing through his nostrils at the continuous buzzing against his leg. His shoulder fell to the side a bit as he reached down into his pocket to grab his phone while he climbed up the stairwell, following his uncle. Seeing your contact name on his lock screen, his brow raised as he read over the message, then they bunched together in the middle of his forehead incredulously, the tone of your texts causing his strides to falter.

Miles was genuinely confused for a moment, trying to think back on if he’d done anything to upset you, until the memory of him assuring you he wouldn’t do this again slapped him across the face harder than his mom did that one time he’d cursed at her on accident. The two of you had a date planned for tonight, and he swore to you he’d be there this time, fifteen minutes early at that, even though he knew there was a big chance he wouldn’t be able to make it all. It was selfish of him to promise something he couldn’t guarantee, knowing how demanding the other factors in his life were, but he was so tired of disappointing you, and how happy you looked when he told you you guys would finally get to spend some time together really had him thinking he could make it work this time.

Eyes falling shut for a beat, a heavy sigh leaves his lips, tongue darting out to dampen them as he quickly tries to think of something to respond with that won’t piss you off more than you already are.

He texts you back: sorry Mami, something came up yk how it is. i got you tomorrow tho fasho

Yeah. Real smooth.

*buzz buzz*

Mi Vida: yk what, just forget it, Miles.

Damn, she called me by my first name? I definitely fucked up this time. He thinks to himself.

Mi Vida: whoever you’re with is clearly more important to you than what we got goin on, so it’s cool. stay where you at, i’m done

Shit.

His heart beats a little faster in his chest, the sensation a semblance of something he hadn’t felt in years. Fear. He texts back as fast he can, head snapping up to see he’s fallen behind his Uncle, and he hurriedly jumps a few stairs before he comes to a stop again.

Miles: done??? the fuck you mean you done?

You don’t respond fast enough for his liking, so he double texts.

Miles: baby stop playin. you trippin it ain’t even like that at all

Mi Vida: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

He utters a string of curses under his breath, alerting his Uncle who had already noticed he was falling behind when he heard the inconsistency of his nephew’s footsteps. He’s ample steps above Miles, turning his head only slightly over his shoulder to address the distracted teenager.

“C’mon man, get off the phone. We got business to tend to. You in or you out?” Aaron asks. “You know I can’t have nobody holdin’ me back.” There’s a hint of something deeper playing within his words, and Miles knows he doesn’t have a choice.

He swallows hard as he looks up at the older man. Taking one last look down at his phone, his jaw clenches in contemplation before he’s shaking his head with a quiet sigh and shoving it back into his pocket. He’ll have to deal with this later.

“My fault. Yeah, I’m in.” He mumbles, doing a quick jog to catch up to the man.

His uncle’s lips quirk into a smirk, a heavy hand coming down to clap Miles’ back and squeeze his shoulder.

“My man. Aight, let’s roll.”

— Your POV —

8:05 PM

You: i’m deadass. don’t call my phone.

You watch closely as the three dots bubble at the bottom left corner of your screen, an indicator that he was typing. But instead, a quiet scoff slips from your mouth when they disappear, your shoulders slumping in disappointment at the word that appears below your last message.

Seen

You angrily toss your phone onto your bed, bottom lip quivering when you catch a glance at yourself in the mirror when you walk by. You’d gotten dressed up all nice just for him, because you knew the chance of him being free for a night to take you out was rare. You’d started your makeup early just to make sure he wouldn’t have to wait outside for you while you finished, and you’d even styled your hair the way you knew he liked. All for nothing.

You kicked your shoes off and dropped your purse to the ground, heading to your bathroom to undo all your work. You washed all the makeup off your face, the act feeling more humiliating than ever when you remembered why you’d even put it on in the first place. To feel pretty for someone who barely even showed up.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm down, hastily reaching back over to check your phone just one more time. Maybe he was thinking of what to say, and that’s why he’d left you on seen.

Seen 25 minutes ago

Maybe not.

You hated crying. And more than anything you were tired of doing it, especially when broken promises were the cause of your wasted tears. Your evening was basically wasted, and you weren’t in the mood to do anything else anyway, so you decided that you’d call it a night and head to bed early. You slipped on some comfy sleep shorts, tying your hair up for the night before grudgingly tugging a large t-shirt over your head. Your brow perked up at the scent that wafted past your nostrils, and pinching the shirt with your forefinger and thumb, you brought the fabric to your nose and immediately caught a whiff of Miles’ cologne. You then realized you’d put on a shirt you stole from him a while back, and the way your heart fluttered made you even more upset than you already were. You brushed it off to the best of your ability and crawled into bed, trying your hardest to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you pulled your blankets over your shoulder.

____

As soon as he’d gotten the job done and his Uncle gave him the okay to dip, Miles’ feet were moving at the speed of light down the stairwell. And while he had sort of rushed the plays he made with some of the city’s goons, he just had to pray that all his Uncle’s money was in the banded wad of cash he returned with, or it would be his ass.

Skipping a few steps he hopped down onto the platform before the next set, checking his phone for the time simultaneously.

10:15 PM

“Damn.” He groaned, pushing through the doors, cool wind hitting his face. Once he reached his motorcycle he shoved his helmet over his head, hopped on, and sped off with a “skrrrt”.

He sped through the streets carelessly, something you definitely would’ve scolded him for had you been riding on the back of his bike with him, with your arms tight around his waist to hold on like you always did. He bobbed and weaved through cars, lane splitting between a few of them and he may have even ran a red, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to remember. All he could focus on was that you said you were “done”, whatever the hell that meant, and he was adamant on making sure you weren’t.

____

You didn’t know when you’d dozed off, three steady knocks, a fourth one after a pause hitting against your window, resulting in your eyes snapping open at the disruption. You sat up on your mattress, the ball of your hand rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you peered across the room. Once they adjusted in the darkness and you recognized the familiar, lanky body of your boyfriend standing outside on the fire escape, the events of just two hours ago played over in your mind like a record.

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed and swung your legs over the side of your bed, pushing yourself onto your feet. Miles watched as you sleepily trudged over to the window, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, head slightly lowered and tilted to the side, as if he were already apologizing before you’d even made it to him.

Hooking your fingers underneath the edge of your window, with a quiet grunt you pulled it up, effectively lifting the barrier between your bodies. You instantly felt your yearning for him come back full force, and wanted nothing more than to throw yourself into his arms, but you restrained. Your eyes met his, the cool night air breezing into your room, and his heart clenched. Somehow he was able to feel the coolness in your demeanor, yet the cold weather hadn’t bothered him at all.

He was the first to speak.

“Hola, Mami.” He sized you up once, taking notice of your eyes that were slightly puffy from crying.

His voice was like silk to your ears, alluring and confident, almost hypnotizing, and it aggravated you that you felt yourself gravitating towards him off two simple words.

“Why are you here, Miles?” You sighed, arms slapping at your sides in exasperation.

He looked slightly taken aback, chin lifting a bit as if you’d asked something completely outlandish.

“What you mean why I’m here? You my girl, shit, this my crib too.” He shrugged, so nonchalant, as if nothing had happened. You wondered if it had even been him texting you earlier.

“You left me on seen, remember? Stood me up, too?” Your head cocked to the side to match the attitude in your tone, brows raising at him. What excuse would he use this time?

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling heavily before he spoke up again.

“I was… busy. Look, my bad, okay? You gon’ let me in or what? Ian come all the way over here to stand outside.” He demanded with a gesture towards the opening, his hazel eyes glinting in the moonlight and thawing the ice that’d been temporarily encased around your heart. There was the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips, because he already knew the answer.

Your lips pursed and you stepped to the side, a laggard arm stretched out beside you, silently granting him access to your room.

He stepped through the window frame and you closed it after him, his hands folding around the collar then the hem of his jacket as he adjusted it and turned towards you.

“I can’t keep doing this with you, Miles. It isn’t fair.” You mumbled, hating the way your voice split your words.

His head dipped to the side a bit as he took in your solemn expression and the way your gaze was cast to the floor, as if you were trying to contain your tears. He wasn’t the best at this, he knew that, and showing affection effectively really wasn’t his strong suit. He usually made it up to you by bringing you a few hundreds he’d made from a deal, paired with some roses he’d picked up on the way to your house at the last second— but you both knew paper and flowers wouldn’t fix it this time.

“I’m sorry, I mean it.” He said, reaching for your hand to bring you close and grateful when your eyes finally lifted to lock onto his, although seeing them tear-filled wrapped him in a deep-seated emotion he didn’t even want to acknowledge.

Miles rarely said he was sorry. If ever. Did he apologize? Yes, but it was usually a ‘my bad’ or a ‘my fault’, or some other term that’d get the point across without him have to use too much emotion. Hearing the words ‘I’m sorry’ from him was an anomaly, it happened once in a blue moon, so this time you knew he really meant it. In your heart you knew he meant it, but that didn’t stop the tear you’d been trying to keep at bay from rolling down your cheek.

His thumb caught the tear almost instantly, swiping it from the soft of your skin. It didn’t belong there, and he hated to be the reason why you were crying in the first place.

“Where do you disappear to, Miles?” You sniffled.

He sighed, glancing back over at the window. He considered telling you the truth, but he knew he couldn’t.

“I’m just tryna keep you safe, ma.”

“You always say that!” You squeaked, making sure to keep your voice down, you had technically snuck him in. You ripped your hand from his grasp, turning your face away from him as another tear fell. “Do you not trust me or something? Is that it?”

“Of course I trust you,” His eyebrows knit together at your question and he stole your hand from your side again.

“So why can’t you tell me?” You pleaded, eyes big and glossy.

“I just-“ He paused. “I can’t let you get hurt. The shit I do…” You watched as he hesitated, like even speaking about the subject pained him. “It ain’t good.” He swallowed, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. “And I’ll be damned if I put you in the middle of my shit. I love you… okay?” He moved closer to you, and when you turned from him once again he brought your face right back to his, this time with both his hands. He wasn’t going to let you go, and while Miles was rough around the edges, and seemingly devoid of any emotion other than anger or resentment for the world—he always handled you with care.

“I love you, Y/n, I put that on everything. I’ll burn this whole world down for you, you hear me? Don’t think I won’t.” He stared into your eyes longingly, intent on making sure you didn’t just hear every word, but that you understood them, too.

You couldn’t help but lean into his hand, your own coming up to hold at his wrist as you inhaled shakily and gave him a bleak nod.

That wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hear you say it.

“Do you understand?” He articulated his words, bringing his head down slightly to match your height a bit more.

“I understand.” You said softly, looking up at him through your lashes before your gaze fell to his lips. He took that as his sign, leaning forward and bringing you into a kiss.

You melted into him immediately, like you always did, eyes fluttering closed as your lips moved against his, and as his hands fell to your hips to pull you in closer, like they always did.

You broke the kiss for air, your hand resting on his bicep and your lips ghosting his as you spoke, as you shared the same breath. “I love you too…” You breathed, standing on your toes.

“Good,” You felt him grin before he pulled away, his hand pinching your chin to make you look at him. “Cause you not leaving me, ever. I can’t let no one else have you, Mami, you know that.” He cooed.

You felt heat flush your cheeks, a smile you couldn’t hide finally spreading on your face.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” You answered, chewing at your bottom lip. “Can you stay?” You whispered, eyes shifting between his hopefully as you awaited his answer.

“Ah…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, piping up again before you could get disappointed. “What about your moms?”

“She sleeps in on the weekends, you just gotta be outta here by nine. Please, pa?” You whined, already reaching for his hands.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head slightly, having to look away from the adorable look on your face. He tried to remain in denial of the fact that he was so deep in love with you he could hardly think sometimes, let alone say no, but he was failing. Miserably.

“Of course I’ll stay, mi amor.”

Your expression lit up, a toothy smile brightening your features as he let you lead him to your bed.

He made sure to remove his shoes before he laid down, settling on his back. He extended his arm out to you as he tucked the other behind his head, motioning for you to join him with his fingers.

You crawled into his open embrace, getting comfortable on top of his chest and nuzzling your head under his chin. You began to feel drowsy the second he wrapped his arm around you, a yawn leading your eyes to water. His hand slowly moved from where it was resting on your back, dipping beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours comforting to you. His large hand rubbed up and down the expanse of your back, the tips of his fingers drawing lines along your spine— you always fell asleep easier when he did that. You listened to the steady beating of his heart, fingers idly toying with the gold chain he kept around his neck.

“I’m really sorry I ain’t make it tonight. I know you prolly got all pretty for me n’shit… and I wish I got to see it, but that’s on me.” He grumbled. He’d beat himself up over this for a while.

“S’okay.” You say it is, but he knows it’s not. He knows better. “I missed you.” Your quiet voice murmured from below him as you scooted in impossibly closer.

His jaw tensed as he stared up at your ceiling, a deep breath from his diaphragm raising you a little bit with his chest, and lowering you as he released it. “I know.” His response was hushed, and as sleep continued creeping in, you wondered if you’d imagined it.

But when you felt a long, drawn-out kiss press to the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades, you knew it was real. The last thing you heard before you dozed off was his voice, mellow and gentle as he assured you.

“Ima do better, mama. I promise, for real this time.”

- do not copy, plagiarize, or post my works onto a different platform.

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!

— JERSEY LUV

— pairing: e-42 miles x black!fem!reader — genre: suggestive, but fluff. — summary: attractive things Miles does that just make you fold instantly. — a/n: this was js in my drafts n i was like "i should post this" while yall waiting 4 my new fic !! the entire time i was writing this I was losing my absolute SHITTT. 😭 Like, i was dead by the first hc. this might as well be those "what's it like dating miles" type shi but i wanted to make it diff, yk? listen to some kind of fold-worthy song while u read this - anyways, im waffling. enjoy, mls !! part 2 part 3 !

MILES MORALES that does not take your attitude. He loves you, yes, but if you do too much or talk crazy, he's gonna put you in your place. It's nun violent, of course, but he may just grab your neck once or twice.

"Chiquita, watch yo tone wit me." "Drop that attitude f'me." "Miss me with that voice, ma."

MILES MORALES that manspreads. that's it. that's all.

MILES MORALES that's always gonna call you by some kind of nickname. He just loves it, and you do too. Princesa, ma, hermosa, the list goes on and on. One time he called you lil mami (if you're shorter) and you actually lost it.

MILES MORALES that always has his hands on you. Your waist, your thigh, your face, everywhere. He just needs to make sure your there.

MILES MORALES that lives for your kisses and always kisses you. Doesn't matter the place, the time, nothing. If he wants a kiss from you, or wants to give you some, it's gonna happen. Especially when you have lipstick/lipgloss on.

"Mi reina, lemme love on you."

MILES MORALES that drives with one hand because his other always on your thigh. It's like his lil resting spot.

MILES MORALES that'll always let you know he misses you, he'll spam you with "i miss you" texts or voice notes w him going on abt his day when you not around ‹3

MILES MORALES that has social media but only uses it to post you. You the love of his life, why wouldn't he let evb else know that?

MILES MORALES that loves to spoil you. You like that pandora bracelet? It's yours. You have a shein cart? Its on its way. He loves to spoil his girl, its his love language atp.

MILES MORALES that always keeps eye contact with you and make sure you keep contact with him whenever yall talking. dont look away if he say sum that makes you fold, he gon grab your chin and make you face him 🤭

"Nah nah baby, don't turn away. Keep ya eyes on me."

quick @ to my boo @laaailuh

© all444miles 2023. do not plagerize, copy, or repost my work in any way shape or form, without my permission.

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

Hi! I hope you doing well! Could one of Earth 42 Miles Morales x Female Reader where reader in his universe dead and he and her was dating before he become the prowler (I don't know if I write his name right English it's not my first language) and she go to earth 42 whit miles and he sees her again alive, and Miles is also dating Female Reader and is like "what do you mean "she's alive"?"

(Hello! I hope this fits and I hope you enjoy! So sorry if it sucks as this is my first spider-verse thing but I hope you enjoy!)

Taglist

Second Chance

You knew the moment you got here that something was wrong.

You were not home.

Home was 1610, not whatever the hell this was. You guys were supposed to be sent home, the DNA detected was supposed to send you home.

But you realized too late the Spider, the one that caused all of this, wasn't from home.

Everything was wrong.

Very wrong.

Especially when Miles' Uncle Aaron came through the door. Really wrong when he leads you up to the roof.

And really, fucking, wrong when you stared at a mural of your face, painted on a brick wall in front of you along with Miles' father.

You were dead here.

Home was where you were alive. This…this was not home.

"...(Name)..." You could hear Miles whisper in your ear, you couldn't answer back.

Too scared to look away from your smiling face painted into the brick.

You could tell Uncle Aaron was standing right beside you and Miles, both staring at the graffiti mural.

Miles looked to you, his hand gripping onto yours to try and bring you back from your own stare at your own mural.

Uncle Aaron flipped on a light, Miles hesitated to look, but when he did he could see his supposed Uncles stare.

You finally tore your eyes from the mural, gripping back onto Miles' hand almost as if it would take you away from this nightmare.

Uncle Aaron merely stared at you two as you both backed up, trying to get away.

But you didn't.

You could feel a stare on the back of your head, too late to turn around, but catching a glimpse along with Miles as someone jumped from a rooftop, knocking Miles senseless and into the ground unconscious.

"Shit- Miles!" You panicked, trying to grab him before he hit the ground but you didn't get the chance.

You noted how the one who punched your boyfriend out stared at you, never looking away as he slowly got closer.

He stepped over Miles' unconscious body, you tried to back away but had nowhere to go as Uncle Aaron wrapped his arm around your neck from behind.

"Hey! No- let me go!" You tried to fight back, clawing at his hand before a sting in your neck caused you to yell in pain.

The one in the purple suit stood closer as your body tried to keep fighting, but soon fell limp, your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Uncle Aaron let you go, about to let you fall into the ground with your Miles. You were fully content with that.

Until the one in front of you caught you just as you closed your eyes to oblivion.

You still had some senses left until you were left completely out. So you could feel the way the boy caught you, carefully moving you in his arms.

Your eyes flickered open and closed, fighting to stay awake as he stared down at you before your eyelids dropped, and you couldn't help but fall asleep into nothing.

Uncle Aaron saw the way his nephew looked down at you, noting how close he held you and how he stared, his movements slow but gentle.

He could see the way he was careful with you, letting you rest in his arms and never letting you fall to the ground.

Something he had done before.

"Stop staring like they're yours. They're not." Uncle Aaron simply put, walking past his Nephew, Miles Morales, to throw the unconscious one over his shoulder.

"...I know. They're just…alive." Miles muttered, can't help but to stare down at your peaceful face in his arms.

You looked like you always did. Content and happy, peaceful to be in his arms.

Like you did before he lost you.

Seeing you alive and just as beautiful as he sat from afar stunned him for a moment, but relieved him as thoughts popped up in his head.

Maybe he got a second chance.

But as he looked over at your Miles, resentment grew.

How come he got to have everything he lost, when everything could've been avoided for him, and get to keep you?

His grip on you couldn't help but to strengthen, the thought of losing you again didn't sit well with him, especially to that Miles.

Not when he had a second chance.

So as he looked down at your sleeping face, one he used to wake up to and one he used to take pictures of just to tease you in the morning with,

He knew something.

He wasn't losing you again.

hii! can i request where e42 miles and reader

break up and the reader finds someone new, and miles gets jealous, and so on.

— Dark Paradise

pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 42! miles morales x reader

summary ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ miles breaks up with you to keep you safe from his prowler business. he expected that you would move on eventually, but that didn’t mean that he had to be okay with that.

warnings ✧˖ ° angst, hurt/comfort, possessivenesses, threatening, miles is a lil toxic, cheating (not on reader and don’t do this to people), breaking up then getting back together, a little suggestive in the end.

m. list, main m. list.

translations ✧࿓☾ bonito: handsome/pretty boy, carajo: shit, (mi) princesa: (my) princess.

a/n . . ◟੭ hey, sweet anon! i love seeing miles following after the reader like a puppy, i hope you enjoy that as well!

"you can't do this to me!" you exclaimed. "to us!"

his face was stone cold and just like the first time you two met, you couldn't read his eyes at all so you didn't know if he really wanted this or if he was doing it for some other selfish reason.

where did it all went wrong? you two were happy together then suddenly he was distant and cold towards you, pushing you away little by little until you finally noticed and confronted him about it and there you were now. him admitting to having loss feelings for you and breaking your heart with two words 'break up'.

"listen, it was all good, i won't lie. but things change, feelings change and i don't want you anymore." miles shrugged.

"this is just so easy for you, isn't it?" you snarled at him, then pointed to the door of your bedroom. "get out." you had refused to shed even a single tear in front of him.

"i don't want to end things on bad terms, ma." miles put his hands up.

"should've thought about it before you said you 'didn't want me anymore' as if i'm some object." you snapped at him. "now, get out of my house."

you started pushing him towards the door of your bedroom and when you pushed him out, you slammed the door shut behind him, locking it in the process. you leaned back against it and slid down, your hands coming up to your face, tears furiously falling down like a waterfall from your eyes, and sobs coming out of your throat one after another.

you sighed at the memory, your emotions had been uncontrollable and you never wanted to go through that again. that hurt like nothing else had hurt you in this world and you hated miles for being the cause of it.

now marked two months of your break up and last week you decided to give relationships a try again, but not before making sure that this guy you were going out with wasn't a stone hearted dumbass criminal that would leave you as if you were simple trash.

"how about this one?" your boyfriend, lucas, asked.

"yeah." you nodded pretending to like the plushie he was choosing to take out of the machine for you, he was so nice and it left a pain in your chest that you didn't feel anything for him.

sure, you liked him but it was a platonic feeling. you tried hard the past few days to at least feel a little spark with him but it was all in vain.

"you don't like it, do you?" he gave a shy smile, scratching his ear. something you noticed that he did when he was nervous or embarrassed. "it's okay, choose one and i'll take it out."

you tried to give him a comforting smile, but it came out awkward. "i like that one." you pointed at the one you liked the most.

lucas nodded and put the amount of money needed in the machine and started guiding the control towards the plushie you chose.

"come on, bonito, you can do it!" you encouraged him, accidentally calling him by the pet name you used to call miles. even though it was an accident you made no attempt to correct it and instead dismissed the thought of miles (or at least tried to).

"carajo!" lucas exclaimed when the plushie fell back down after picking up with the metal grabber. of course he was hispanic, you just loved them.

"move, man." lucas got pushed away from the machine. "let me show you how to do this properly."

"you can't be serious." you deadpanned at miles. "what are you doing here, miles?"

"it's an arcade, mami." miles said innocently. "anyone can come here."

you rolled your eyes, but he was right.

lucas frowned at miles, "if you wanted to use it, you could've just asked. no need to be fucking aggressive."

miles ignored him for a moment, putting money inside the machine, controlling the metal grabber thing and grabbing the exact plushie you had picked out and successfully pulling it out of the machine, bending down to take it out and giving it to you.

"here, princess." he said, but when you didn't take it he just grabbed your arm and put it around the plushie. "remember that you only have one bonito in your life." he told you, eyes going hard a little bit but they turned to complete stone when he looked at lucas. "and you, watch your tone."

"who the fuck do you think you are?" lucas asked, angrily.

"her one and only." miles shrugged and walked away.

his corny ass.

"don't listen to him," you told lucas and started making your way to the nearest trash can, pulling him along and throwing the plushie inside. "let's go somewhere else."

you and lucas had been dating for three weeks now and outdoor dates were impossible for both of you because miles kept showing up everywhere you two went, always finding a way to put some type of claim over you in front of lucas and you could tell that the boy was getting tired of miles since once his sweet soul even tried to talk things out without using violence but it ended with miles punching him and a fight breaking out between the two that miles, obviously, won.

now, you and lucas were hanging outside school waiting for your group of friends to come out so you could all go to the park together.

"we could skate." you suggested when lucas asked for ideas of what to do for your next date.

"that sounds dangerous."

miles would've agreed about skating together, you and him enjoyed doing that a lot. he taught you how to do it and it bought back fond memories.

"what about playing board games?"

"that's boring to do with a girlfriend."

miles enjoyed beating you every single time so he would have agreed to play that with you in a heartbeat.

"oh! how about painting?"

"i don't know how to paint."

miles was an artist, he did graffiti and sketched (sometimes). he had taught you how to draw many things and would've said yes to that idea just to feel the intimacy of teaching you more stuff.

"then come up with something on your own." you rolled your eyes.

"come on, sweetheart." lucas laughed. "are you really going to get mad at me for that?"

"of course, she will." miles suddenly appeared again. "you're boring as fuck, man. which is why she would never be yours."

"miles, don't start." you said, already tired if his ass. but deep inside you even if you didn't want to acknowledge it, you always looked forward to the moment that he would show up.

"hola, princesa." miles smirked, looking at you up and down. "you look good."

he said that even though you were wearing the uniform but it made you feel warm inside.

"can you leave my girlfriend alone?"

"can you stop calling her yours?" miles raised an eyebrow. "she is not yours and would never be. she already belongs to me."

"i belong to none of you, i'm my own person." you said, why the fuck were they talking like you weren't there?

miles chuckled, a deep one that had his head throwing back and he looked at you, a dark glint in his eyes. "you and i both know that is not true." then he leaned in to you, but lucas pushed him away. "see you later, princesa. mi princesa." he added the last bit with a smirk.

"and you're lucky i'm in a hurry, or i would've knocked your ass down." he told lucas then winked your way before finally leaving.

as you laid on your bed, you couldn't help but think about everything that has happened this past few weeks that had to do with miles.

at first after your break up he ignored you completely and it wasn't like you wanted to talk to him, but if he wanted to be on good terms he could have at least spoken to you and apologize yet he didn't.

then the moment you started dating again, he suddenly reappeared in your life. acting as if you were an object that he had absolute possession of, and it made you so mad that the only way to get his attention was to be with someone else.

"you dumb bitch." you cursed, slapping your hand against your face. "this whole time..."

this whole time you were just trying to get miles' attention or trying to replace him with lucas, you weren't trying to 'give relationships a try again' it was all bullshit.

you have been comparing every single thing that lucas did to miles, every single decision that lucas had made would make you think of what miles would do in his place. it was like you were wishing that lucas would turn into miles this entire time.

"i have to see him..." you whispered. "now."

you stood up, not even bothering to change out of your pijamas and ran out of your house and into the dangerous night. miles lived two blocks away and you hoped that he wasn't doing some prowler business since it was at this time in which he would normally work.

when you got there, you grabbed the key hiding in the plant pot and opened the door. you left all regrets behind you and stepped in, there was no movement in the kitchen area and the living room so ms. morales was probably doing a night shift.

"miles?" you called out, then made your way to his room. "miles." you stood outside the door of his room and sighed before knocking.

“hey, princesa.”

you jumped and turned around. miles was standing right behind you, head cocked to the side looking at you up and down.

“gosh, you scared me.” you put a hand on your chest.

“you’re the one in my house.” miles said.

you realized that he was wearing his prowler fit so he must have just come back from some mission.

“i want you to tell me what do you want with me?” you went straight to the point.

“i want everything with you. get marry, have kids, die together and all of that corny ass shit.” miles sighed.

“then why did you break up with me?” you asked, hurt clear in your voice.

“i was threaten by someone, this person is way too dangerous and they found out about you and i just couldn’t let you be hurt, i mean you’re everything to me.” miles confessed. “but now, they aren’t a problem anymore. it took time but my uncle and i took care of it.”

“so this person only happened to know about me? what about your mom?” you raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“thankfully, they didn’t know about my mom but the only reason they found out about you was because i made the mistake of going to your house right after a mission.” he explained.

you nodded, not knowing if you should believe him but it didn’t matter. nothing mattered anymore because you wanted miles and his name and face was the only thing in your mind.

“i want you to end things with that little hispanic boy.” miles said after a while of silence.

“you’re hispanic too.” you said with a little smirk.

“i know, that’s why you got with him.” miles grabbed your waist and pulled you in for a kiss which you reciprocated.

your arms came around his neck while one of his came around your waist and the other hand grabbed a handful of your ass making you let out a gasp into the kiss. “mine.” he murmured. “all mine.”

“all yours.” you agreed before connecting your lips with his again.

his lips tasted sweet and you weren’t surprised because they always had that taste on them, making you want more of it and you couldn’t get enough. you needed him to keep kissing you all night long, in the morning, the afternoon and during the night again. you wanted his kisses to last forever.

“who’s the only bonito in your life, princesa?” he asked as he kissed down your neck, biting softly here and there.

you didn’t answer, too lost in the feeling of his lips and the pleasure that they were bringing you which caused miles to let go of your ass so that he could wrap his hand around the back of your neck and pull your face to look at him.

“answer me.” it sounded like an order and knowing miles you had no doubt it was.

“you are.” you told him, a little breathless. “i love you, bonito.”

“and i love you, mi princesa.” miles smiled and opened the door to his room, pulling you inside.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!

Thinking about writing an earth 42! Miles Morales x reader with the lip plumber prank Trope 🤭

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷  Forbidden love, mutual pining, eventual angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷  Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ Chapters are a bit rushed, sorry bout that 😭 hope u enjoy tho

Chapter 1: Behind the chain

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, underaged smoking, mention of death, horrible Spanish. Also, I don’t live in America so idrk how people talk there, so please bear with me.

FIC MASTERLIST

Next Chapter

“Hello? Yeah, I’m at practice.”

As your feet hit the ground, the chain link fence shutters from the release of your weight— a sigh escaping your lips as you pull your phone up closer to your ear. The sound of your aunt's nags echo from your phone, bellowing across the abandoned subway and overpowering even the sound of your boots hitting the damp ground. It was shrill, her voice. Like a fork being dragged down a piece of fine china. Activating the flashlight of your phone, you swiftly slip your head out of your hood, the new spot now staring back at you like an empty canvas— devoid of life and color. It’s tragic.

As you trudge down the narrow space, your senses begin to process the stench of the horror movie-like scenery. You could heard the pipes’ leaking going along with your aunt’s ongoing lecture about something you couldn’t recall— somehow distracting you from your search.

But what certainly made you uneasy was the chill.

You hated the cold. You hated the way it’d ice your feet, dry your skin, restrict your clothes, and clog your nose. Though ironically, autumn was the season you found most enjoyable. Most of the nostalgia you bore came from the sight of those scarlet leaves— the smell of pumpkin spice, your mother’s old scarves, and the earthly rich tones of orange and red. It’d been so long, though, since your last happy memory in the season.

Nowadays, the nights are just longer, and the days shorter.

Soon enough, you stop before a tall, white wall, making you gasp as though you’d just won the lottery. Only then you started bidding your farewells to your aunt, who was beyond exasperated with your hurried adieu. Shoving the gadget down your pocket, your backpack falls right off your shoulder with a small thump, eyes still glued onto the blank space.

You make your way towards one of the seats, settling down your stuff while slipping your vape out the crevices of your sleeve and taking a slow puff— the taste of peppermint flourishing through your lips and covering up the stench of whatever was rotting in the railways.

"You're early." A familiar, sarcastic growl emits from the shadows. You turn around as the light from your phone blinds him, making him wince.

“I missed you.” You playfully answered.

The familiar gleam of hazel blinks and stares right back at you, the same stoic stare narrowing from your comment.

“Sure you did.” He huffs.

In the back of your mind, the same phrase bellows.

Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miles Morales.

It was one night, two months ago, when the two of you first met. You were an utter mess, and so was he— and it just so happened that beneath all that rain, the two of you found each other at the right time, at the right place. Supposedly.

The two of you bonded in loneliness and art. It was almost poetic, especially knowing that the two of you were anything but good for each other.

But you believed that that’s what’s great about life— the reckless things, and betting whatever you have on the line, for a taste of something thrilling. Miles knew how to pull on your strings, and the idea of being understood was still new to you. Still, whenever you do find yourself in the comfort of Miles Morales, you can’t help but ask yourself:

Who will we be to each other?

How will we change each other’s lives after this?

You couldn’t quite tell if it was your gut warning you, or your anxiety just being a little shit, but you knew the time to hear the answers was drawing near. You had no idea whether the possibility mortified you or not.

One thing for certain though, was that you knew you wanted him, and you were willing to take the risk to see him over and over again.

Miles took a step closer, his height towering over you like a tree. With a single finger, he maneuvers your flashlight away from his face with a light push.

"Get that shit away from my face."

“Awe, but I wanna see that pretty face of yours.”

“Stop.”

Cat and mouse was your usual dynamic. Though you couldn’t quite pinpoint who the cat was.

He clicks his tongue, moving away from you to head over somewhere else. A few seconds later, the power suddenly lights up and brings the subway back to life. Miles stood by the power switch, staring right at you as if to examine your reaction.

You straightened your lips and raised your brows.

"Well, you should've done that sooner."

He lazily shrugged his shoulders, approaching you once more yet with more meticulous steps. "Wanted to scare ya." He cooly confessed, earning nothing but another chuckle.

"If you wanted to scare me, don’t look so pretty."

Said pretty boy furrowed his brows, making you grin wider.

"Ay, díos. You're..." For a short moment, he thinks of how to complete the sentence.

You hum. "I'm what?"

".. so fucking unbearable."

"Awe, I missed you too." You smiled in a sickly sweet way while placing a hand over your heart. That certain sort of thrill began thumping inside you again, an unfamiliar excitement that got you staring right at him mindlessly with that stupid look on your pretty face. As Miles replied with silence, you shrugged and pulled the mod up your tinted lips— blowing the smoke away from his face. Only then, you gestured it towards him.

"Want a hit?"

"Nah." He dryly replies. "That's your first step to a rehab, y'know."

A low laugh exits your lips, taking another hit while slowly walking around. "With how fucked up I am, I'm bound to end up in either jail, a rehab, or a mental institution— so," You snap your fingers. "I'm just gonna enter all three of them."

Miles looks at you, horrified.

"M’just kidding. Don't you think I look hot while doing it, though?"

He peels the horrified stare away from you, instead choosing to kneel before your backpack, unzipping the damn thing as though it were his.

"What'chu got?" He asks, a certain twang in his voice that lightened you up. You head over in less than a second, grinning stupidly like a little kid in search of favor. You pull the plastic bag out of your backpack, waving it over his face.

"Only the best for you." You wink. "I just kindly borrowed these from my school's art club."

Receiving the bag from your grasps, Miles pulls out the newly bought spray paints. He furrows his brows at the sight of the bold fifteens printed on the bottom of each bottle, a tag left as if to brag. "Kindly borrowed, huh?" He skims over the bottle, evidently impressed. "Fifteen dollars per bottle? That’s a whole heist right there.”

“I literally just snatched it off the cabinet.”

“You must go to some rich kid’s school or sum. You even look the part.”

He gestures over your well-kept appearance. Your clean boots, pressed jeans, freshly done nails, and fragrant hoodie.

And yet you continued to look at him like he was the crazy one.

"... Miles, it’s called neatness. A basic trait." You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, the ache in your bones subtly easing. "If I did have the money, my art would be in an exhibition, not in an abandoned subway."

He pursed his lips, somewhat convinced. "Touché."

As he unpacks the paints, you stay beside him, watching as he goes through the colors and lines them up in order. You shove your hands down the pockets of your hoodie, humming.

"So what'll you be drawing tonight?"

"I ain’t really sure yet… The Subway logo, maybe." He shrugs, an exhausted groan rolling off his tongue as he stands up. "… I ain't got shit. I'm drained."

"Then why'd you come here?"

"Felt bad for ya."

You smirk. "So you did miss me."

He takes a step back, turning his head the other way. "I sure do find your delusional ass amusing." He mumbled, trying to hide the anxiety gnawing at his throat. You hardly notice it, as you were too busy staring at the empty wall, but Miles was uneasy. Uneasy in a way that he was desperate to hide it.

"At least I’ve got an ass." You airily snap back, silence following like an awkward stench. "Did you bring your sketchbook with you, by the way?"

He then proceeds to go through his jacket, eyes widening from the realization. "Ah, shit. I did... Not."

"Awe." You blandly answered, pulling out your own from the pocket of your bag. It was small, convenient, almost like a notepad. "Well, I've got mine here." You toss it over, which he successfully catches. "They're not exactly as good as yours, but you can skim through the pages to find some inspiration."

The pages spin from the flip of his fingers. Tens of concept art, a few unfinished sketches, and some dabbling in watercolor appeared before him in a flash. As he goes through the pages, you take the moment to have a momentary smoke, straying not so far away just so he wouldn't inhale any of it. The nicotine eased you as it normally did, though now that you were looking at this pretty boy before you, you couldn't help but ponder about quitting. Just for him. Just for the sake of him.

Though the feeling the nicotine often brought you was addicting, his presence hit you harder than any other drug, affecting your system in a way that made your stomach whirl. He was like your favorite cup of coffee— the strongest coffee to ever linger in your presence. Strong enough to appear on a drug test.

It was damning.

Dangerous even.

As the page flips again, Miles freezes at the sight. You take the gadget away from your lips, approaching him immediately as he huffs.

"... Huh."

Bursting in neons of magenta and violet was the sketch you made of a certain vigilante.

"Oh, don’t mind that." You mumble. "That's just some random sketch."

He brings the paper closer to his sights, marveling at your talent. The markers and the ink, mirroring the image of a cat on the run. His pretty lips part, mouth hanging agape as he asks. "You know this guy?"

A hero of the streets, some sort of final pillar carrying the weight of New York's safety on his broad shoulders.

"Well, I've seen him— Prowler, from the news. I thought he looked pretty cool."

Prowler, a name all too familiar to you. How could you not know he was? A man hiding behind an iron mask, a digital purple hologram over the metals, making his silhouette mirror a panther’s. The man was all your father recently growled about, the memory of the heavy morning still engraved into your mind. You can almost sketch it out— The stench of his tobacco, the shrill of his angered voice, and the image of your poor housekeeper silently brushing some broken shards into the dustpan. You remember sitting by the dining table, solemnly choking on your breakfast as you forcibly shoved it down your throat.

Eyes downcast and hands shaking.

"You think he's cool?" Miles' voice tears you apart from the memory. He sounded almost elated, like a child in search of praise.

"Yeah, I'd always wanted to be a vigilante, fuck—" The vape rolls off your tongue unconsciously. "Like, my life is so damn boring, but at the same time, I've got too many responsibilities to handle so I can't do the things I like. But hey, that's life, I guess."

"If you've got too many responsibilities, then what the hell are you doing here? It's like midnight r'now, damn."

"I kinda told my aunt I had practice for band."

"You're in a band?"

"…. No." You deadpan. "That's the reason why I'm here, man."

He snapped the sketchbook shut, sighing as he plucked out the red and purple spray paints from the line. "God, you'd be one hell of a headache if I ever had a kid like you."

"Woah, slow down, sweetie, you're already talking about kids and you haven't even taken me out to dinner yet." You tease, teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you watch him crumble. He straightens his lips, forcefully holding back a smile.

"… Shut that mouth for me, would ya?" He shot back. "Just shut up."

"Oo, make me."

He pops the lid off the red paint, the sound of a nickel ball being shaken up in a metal can soon following. Without even an ounce of hesitation, he curtly sprays the paint over your sleeve, earning a gasp from you. You quickly snatch the neon pink can and start spraying back, the chemical smell wafting over your nostrils as the sound of your giggles echoed down the halls. A minute later and the both of you began drawing your new piece while being drenched in paint.

"Hey, pretty boy.”

Miles instinctively turns to look at you, as though he prided himself in the nickname.

"I need to do the top part, can you boost me?" You ask, voice muffled from the towel pulled over your nose.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but he agreed without making a sound.

He kneels, tapping on his thigh, gesturing you to take your step. Taking off your shoes, you cautiously climb over, feeling his hands brush against your calves, almost as if he was readying his stance to catch you just in case you fall. Initially, the pose seemed to be serving you well, but when your ankles started shivering, your hand latched onto his head, gripping gently in panic. Miles, who was, of course, caught off guard, began shaking. You finally took a step down.

"Fuck." You whispered. "Can you do it?"

"Hol' on."

"I think you just need to like, tiptoe a bit and—"

"Be patient."

And you did just that.

He stretches out his toes in an attempt to reach for the top, but he fails miserably. Miles then turned to you, bearing the pout of a frustrated child.

"... Ya already know what to do, right?"

"Mm, yeah."

An irrational thought crosses his mind, and it battles against his rationality like a civil war within the confines of his head. A second later, his lone finger signals you to come closer. You do so, and he looks up at the unfinished crown.

"I'm gonna carry you, a'ight?"

"What?" You blurt out. "Y-You don't have to—"

"Just balance yourself." He skips past your rant. "And you better do it well."

Before you could even intervene, he's down and offering you his shoulder. Hesitantly, you position yourself. Looking over at you, Miles skims over your face in search of approval. When your hand shakily makes its way over his other arm, Miles cautiously wraps his palm over the side of your knee, hoisting you up like a trophy he’d just won.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Y-yeah. Just— yeah." You stumble over your words, raising your hand over to start painting.

You could feel it tingling in your bones. Skin deep, rotting within the confines of your flesh, insecurity at its highest peak. And it shut you up. Miraculously, as Miles would say it. Your weight, your body, your own figure frightened you. It would be a lie for Miles to claim that he hasn’t noticed. But he stood tall, hardly showing an ounce of any struggle— which comforted somehow.

He was pretty strong, stronger than you first thought.

As you painted, Miles stood there in silence. Trying his best to focus on his breathing.

But the softness of your palm atop his shoulder, and the growing warmth of his own over your waist. Miles desperately tried to ignore growing warmth burning his cheeks. He resisted the urge to dig into the softness of your waist, and yet it remained like a taunt— allowing only his nails to grip over your shirt, the thin barrier over your skin. It seemed almost vulgar, how his hand was beneath your hoodie, gripping as though you were his favorite plush. How his wrist was pressed against the curve of your hip. Then and there, within the span of five minutes, the silhouette of your body was forever engraved into his senses, his mind, and his touch.

But no one spoke of it.

"... You done?" He groaned.

"In a bit, hol' on."

You thought he'd start complaining about your weight, but he didn't.

You were somewhat relieved, but at the same time, it flustered you.

And when the little scene ended, you and Miles stood there, backs pressed against the wall as you stared at your new masterpiece. You looked over the chemical stains on your sleeves, glancing at him. "This jacket's pretty expensive, y'know. It cost me like fifteen grand."

His face twisted in disgust. "You'd buy a jacket like that? In this economy?”

"It's a capitalist world we live in."

"No shit."

The two of you share a small laugh, evidently exhausted from the whole art process. It wasn't all that much, but it was based on one of your many doodles during class. The cursive that spelled out Stay Out was painted in an intimidating shade of red, its borders tainted in white and black— a crown of thorns resting above the text. It seemed like a warning, an open threat. Crafted by frustration, but upon its finish, you were eased.

"Next time, we should do something that says 'Eat the rich' or 'Vive la revolución.'" Miles suddenly suggested, jazzing his fingers comedically. You click your tongue. "We might get shot, man.”

“With all that smoking you do, you’ll wither away before the bullet even manages to get you.”

You raised your brows. “Okay, and?”

Miles scoffs at your ridiculous reply, but for a moment he thinks about it— some sort of plan in his mind. Sooner or later, he soon gently raises his palm without a word. You stare at his hand confusingly, “What?” you then asked of him. The boy then gestured over his lips with his fingers shaped like a v, imitating the act of smoking. “Lemme try, at least once.”

“… You’re kidding.”

“I’m being for real, ma, just let me try it once.”

You think about rejecting his request, but the curiosity had you fishing out your e-cigarette in less than a second.

“Okay, but if you die, I’m not paying for your damn ambulance bill.”

“Just uber me to the damn hospital.”

Miles then looks at it, glaring holes into the pen-shaped gadget as though he were waiting for it to speak. After considerably taking his time, he plucks it out your palm and starts a slow sip, the collision of the nicotine and the flavor flooding his tongue as the smoke enters his system. When the heat creeps in, however, he bursts out into a coughing fit.

You snatch the gadget away from his grasp as he groans.

“Careful.”

"What the fUCK—, ain't that s'pposed to calm you down?—" He slams his hand against the center of chest in an attempt to ease his lungs.

"… Did you fucking swallow the smoke or what?" You sigh while taking a sip, the smoke smoothly exiting your lips.

"... You know what? You are definitely gonna die early."

"Oh, darling, don't threaten me with a good time."

“Pu—” He coughs a few more times. “Puta, I almost died there.”

You take your palm and began rubbing small circles behind his back. “You shouldn’t do the shit I do, even if I look hot doing it.”

“Ain’t nobody told you that.”

“… Why’d you wanna smoke anyway?”

“I just wanted to know why you keep doing that.” He groans, staring at the pen in your fingers. “I mean— it’s unhealthy as fuck, hardly tastes good, and it’ll kill you the ugliest way possible. So why do it?”

You lower the pen as though your long-lost conscience re-entered your body.. “… I don’t know really.” You mumbled half-heartedly. “I think it’s what calms me down the most…? I don’t know.”

“… You don’t have, like, normal hobbies?”

“The fuck— of course, I do.” You swiftly shot back. “I just don’t have the time to do them.”

“Then what do you do at home?”

You blink.

“What— What do I do at home?” You repeat, thinking of it to yourself. “That’s a good question, what do I do at home?… I do chores, I study a lot. I-I take care the house.” Take care of the house? Yeah, shit I ain’t Mirabel Madrigal. As your mind short circuits, from a mile away, you could already guess his reply.

“I do that too, dumbass.”

You click your tongue. “.. It’s complicated. The time I usually have for myself is when I’m outside, that’s why I lied that I took up band for extra credit.”

You smoothed out the details of your life, picking out a few small details that were definitely not all that important.

"Is that why you're here?"

"Yeah.”

The boy curved his lips into a slight frown.

“I mean,” You shift closer, sighing as you palm the back your neck. “Sometimes, places like these are better than my own home."

"Places like an abandoned subway?"

“You make it sound like I’m homeless.”

“That’s what it sounds to me.”

"... It’s just.." You run your fingers through your hair, eyes glued onto the ceiling above. "I feel more at home in an abandoned subway more than my own house.”

Miles hummed. "… I'd always thought home would be more of a person," He tilts his head. "Rather than a place."

The silence was deafening, but this time, nothing was urging you to fix it— because there was nothing in need of fixing. You were comfortable, weirdly enough, as you never really found comfort in utter silence.

“It’d be nice to be.. Someone’s home.” You couldn’t help but utter those cheesy words. “I think I’d make a great home.”

Miles fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, holding back the words that echoed in his mind.

Yeah, you’re doing great.

Instead, what slips out of his mouth was: “How the fuck are you gon’ be a home? You’re a whole haunted house.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You roll your eyes. “If I’m a haunted house, you’re a rental where all the drive-by shootings happen.”

“Okay, what the fuck.”

“When you go low, I go LOWER.”

In the end, the two of you simply bursted into laughter, sinking down to the floor to take a seat. Another hour passed and so did a hundred topics. They flew by like the autumn leaves, leaving the both of you unconsciously huddling close for warmth beneath the large scarf you brought. Two birds of one feather, one nest. Easy conversations, light laughs, and genuine interest.

Even when the conversation grew darker, the two of you infinitely felt cosy enough to confide in one another. Especially when Miles spoke about his father.

You listened well, yet there was this ball stuck in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow. A heaviness in your heart, a stiff feeling in your throat. However, your ears were welcoming. His tone was grieving, but his words resonated with acceptance.

"He used to drive me every morning to school... We'd fight over the pettiest things, and god, I hated it, but looking back, it was better then." He buried half his head into his arms. "I'd rather have him annoying me than have him not annoying me at all."

The words hit you like a truck, leaving you defenseless. In a moment, your walls crumble as these words crawl out your mouth. "... Sometimes, when we're with someone, you can't help but wish they'd leave you alone, but when they're gone, only then you'll realize how much you can't live without them."

Though your words were meant for Miles, you knew damn well that they were also for you.

"... There's some truth to that, I guess."

"Does that mean that you'd miss me when I'm gone?" You tease.

Your gentle gazes collide, and eventually, you see that Miles had softened entirely.

"... Maybe."

“.. Maybe?” You repeat his reply. “.. Should I annoy you more then?”

“You’re annoying enough as you are.” He huffs, pulling his knees to his chest. “I hate you so much.”

“Sure you do.”

You lean against his shoulder. “Hate me all you want. I’ll pretend to believe you.”

A light chuckle emits from his lips, but as it fades, he turns his head, burying his nose in the scent of your hair. You were fragrant, and it was addicting. Slowly, he shuts his eyes and basks in your scent.

Then he called out your name softly.

You hum, looking up at him— the inches between you closing in, cold breaths like white smoke intertwining. His cold fingers dance atop your own.

“What?” You whisper.

His lids were heavy, gaze switching between the pool of your eyes and the plush of your lips.

Then and there, you knew.

But something screamed at you in the back of your mind.

We can’t.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

And you pulled away before your lips could even meet.

"Shit." You cuss, clumsily pulling the phone out of your pockets. Your hands frantically scramble to answer the call, the look of Miles' defeated stare stinging the corner of your eye. "Hello?" You began, hearing the chauffeur's voice ask back. "Ma'am, where are you?"

Your fingers press the side of your phone, lowering the volume.

“We're currently clearing up the room right now. Can you please wait about thirty more minutes? Thanks."

As the call ends, you frantically head off to start cleaning up. Trying to evade whatever had just happened— at least, you try to. It invaded your mind and heart, left you breathless and unsteady.

You and Miles began picking up the bottles, shoving it inside the plastic. You then flung the strap of your backpack onto your shoulder, holding the plastic out to him. "You can have it."

Confusion was scribbled all over his face.

"Didn't you steal that from your school's art club?”

You look up, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. "It’s their problem, not ours." You grin.

Miles shakes his head in feigned disapproval. "Tsk tsk tsk, eres una chica tan mala."

"Don't start, the only Spanish I know's from Dora."

"Que?"

"Queso."

You shove the plastic into his arms. "No hablo Español, lo siento." Was all you managed to form out of the past few weeks you started learning Spanish. You threw a hand in the air, waving him a fast farewell while pivoting your heel to leave.

“Can’t I walk you home?” A suggestion, and not a demand for the first time, Miles insists “It’s dark as fuck outside, and you might get.. Y’know.”

For a moment, you pause to laugh.

“Are you worried about me?”

He nods. “I am.”

“I— wait, what?”

He took a step further. “I am worried about you. It’s ten o’clock. I think I should take you home.”

Miles looked at you in a way you’ve never seen before. It was unfamiliar, or maybe you just weren’t good at paying attention, yet now that it was materializing before you— It overwhelmed you.

It was breaking you open.

You bite your lower lip, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“… I-I don’t know, I don’t think my dad would like that very much.”

“And I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like the idea of his lil’ girl getting hurt.”

There he goes again, towering over you, his cocky eyes never once leaving your face. Lil’ girl my ass, you can’t help but think. I’m tall, asshole. You just so happened to be taller.

“I’ll walk you home.” He reiterates. Now it’s an announcement, not a proposal. “You can tell me to leave when we’re near. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

“… Miles,” The way his name rolls off your tongue had him weak, and you couldn’t even tell. “.. Okay, fine— But, only up until the Gristedes down the block. Until then, you go home, alright?”

Your voice was too soft, too mellow. It made his breath hitch, made his neck tense in this already cold weather.

“Aight.”