'Star in a web~✮' || Miles Morales x Reader

「 ✦ 𝗕𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗿𝘀 ✦ 」

   "I...-PPFFRRRREGHAHAHA!!" I attempt to speak in between laughs, putting the whisk down and clutching my stomach, and rolling on the floor as my face reddened slightly. My laughter came out silent and painful, ripping through my lungs as I cupped my mouth for dear life. I could see Miles struggling to breathe, having his talk with Jesus a little early as he too cupped his hand over his mouth. We take a few minutes to calm down, collecting our breath as we stare at each other silently, eyes red and tear-glazed from laughing so hard. "I-I was GOING to say. 'Sounds familiar' but I became a victim of my own humor' I giggle as I tilt the bowl up to Miles's ear, mixing aggressively so he can hear the gross, sloppy, wet noises coming from the unmixed dough.

  Miles shoots me a wide-eyed, slack-jawed, gape before bursting out into laughter again, fighting for his life on the smooth tile floor of his kitchen. I attempt to collect myself before a new fit of laughs erupts from my throat, fighting for dominance against my own human nature. The newer wave of laughter is slightly less controlled than before, leaving us flopping on the floor like a fish out of water with tears pouring through our eyes. Truly, any other moment in time it wouldn't really have been that funny. But it was almost 12 at night and we had them midnight giggles.

   We finally managed to calm down after a good minute, finishing mixing the dough and making heart-shaped cookies. Well, I made heart-shaped cookies, and he made attempted heart-shaped cookies. We set the cookies in the preheated oven as we chatted in the kitchen, our giggles and banter filling the air accompanied by the smell of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air. Miles was in the process of telling me about his newest dream job after changing his desired major for the third time. He rambled passionately about how he wanted to do art full-time, examining ideas of becoming a tattoo artist or a 'modern art' creator. While I began discussing ways I could possibly help out with his goal, I went to go get the cookies out of the oven. I began to whip up a quick makeshift frosting as I iced the cookies, sprinkling a little bit of lavender on top of each cookie.

   "And there we go! Cookies!" I cheered as I began to munch on a cookie. "These are really good! I'm just glad that the oven didn't blow up like how you did with those muffins..." I tease as I give Miles a playful side-eye.

   "Hardy-har. So funny. I'm dying of laughter." He stated flatly in an unamused tone.

   "I know. I just had you cryin' on the floor gasping for air." I mock with a roll of my eyes, scrolling on my phone and snapping the occasional pic of the cookies and the two of us. We spent our time in the kitchen cracking jokes, making small talk basking in the comfortable silence. Then Miles looked at the time on the oven and looked at me with a confused expression on his face. "Yo, it's a lil late, your mom isn't gonna kill you or nothin' right?"  He asks with slight worry on his features. I take a deep sigh as I get ready to unpack my home situation for him, slight sadness uncovering itself on my face.

   "I got emancipated earlier this year. I live alone, Bambs. As soon as I started getting to the bag, it seemed like my family began to resent me for it. Of course, I'm forever grateful that they pushed me in this direction in the first place. But as more success poured in, my mother stopped paying attention to me and my mental health. I was no longer happy while acting, but I made as much money as I could to move out. When I learned earlier this year that as long as I could support myself financially I didn't have to be here legal child, I made a quick move for emancipation." I confess as I look down at the floor nervously. I hadn't expected to unpack my mommy trauma to someone so soon, but it would be particularly hard to explain why I never ask permission from any sort of family member before doing something.

   "Oh...'m sorry for overstepping like that. I know how it feels to watch someone slip away from you right before your very eyes.." He murmurs as he joins me in staring down at the floor.

   "No no, it's okay. I promise I don't mind." I chuckle quietly "You were just worried about me, that's fine." I reassure him as I smile gently.

   "Yeah...yeah I was," He begins as he clears his throat, "Do you need a hug?" he asked just barely above a whisper.

   Admittedly I was taken aback. For as long as I'd known Miles I knew he loved his personal space, only giving me small side hugs, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, and dapping me up as a form of greeting. "Yeah, that'd be great," I confess as I accept Miles's warm embrace. His hold was kind and sympathetic, and he smelled like a bakery and fabric softener. We stood in the middle of the kitchen in comfortable silence for what seemed like ages, failing to hear the soft patter of Mrs. Morales's footsteps.

"Really cute, you two. But please keep it down a little bit." She chuckles as she turns on her heel and retreats upstairs to her room. I gently back out of Miles's embrace and giggle quietly. "Sorry mama Morales." I apologize in between quiet giggles. Shortly after, me and Miles begin to pack up the leftover cookies in an air-tight bowl and put them in the pantry. We whisper and giggle as we make our way back upstairs to Miles's room to get ready for bed.

"Miles, it's fine. I can sleep on the floor don't worry about it gang."

"No! That's so rude," he whispers in between chuckles. "It's horrible host etiquette just sleep in my bed."

"Well then where are you gonna sleep then? I'm not letting you sleep on the floor." I retort as I look around his room.

"Over there in my lil hammock." He states as we pointed to a cute ivory hammock that mimicked a spiderweb. It was decorated with a little throw blanket, various pillows, and a small speaker thrown in the center.

"Huh...Okay, that's actually pretty cute." I giggle as I make myself comfortable on Miles's bed. "G'night, Bambi" I call out.

"Night, Y/N" he replied over the soft patter of rain against his window. The wind was whistling through the small sliver of open space between his glass window and the outside, the peaceful ambiance lulling me to sleep slowly but surely.