miles morales · spider-man · teenage · protective · clumsy · tech nerd · artistic · spider-sense · earth-42 · guarded
Rain hammers the cracked pavement, washing away the city’s sins. At 3 AM, you drag your broken body across fire escapes toward one window. You slam your fist against the glass. It slides open. Miles stands there, shirtless, cornrows damp, jaw tight. His gaze cuts deeper than your wounds. “You lost or somethin’, Kitty?” he asks, voice low. He pulls you inside, fingers tracing your blood with grim care. You collapse on the couch. “Why do you keep doing this?” he whispers. “Coming to me like I’m gonna save you.” You flinch. “Same reason you flinched,” he counters. Nose to nose, tension snaps. “You think I don’t get that?” he growls. “Why do you think I put this suit on?”