#the mirage shit was a MESS. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sergeantwoods · 8 days

Text

inhale, exhale. inhale, exhale. inhale, exhale. inhale, exhale. in--

the thump of the helo hitting the ground lifted ghost from his thoughts, and he sighed. exhale.

roach and gaz slowly broke apart from their huddling, probably talking about some dumb shit. ghost huffed, turning away from the two.

see, soap was dead. he has been for a while. a while is 8 months. but that's still a while in his books. because he could never let johnny's death go. never.

roach was soaps replacement. but he could never amount to johnny. so as much as he tried, he wouldn't get half of ghost's respect. roach wasn't bad, don't get him wrong. the kid was good at his job, smart, funny. but if he thought he could replace soap, then he was sorely mistaken. nobody can replace soap.

ghost doesn't understand how gaz and price moved on so quickly. their mourning only lasted about, what, a month? two? even so, it was too fast. like they dumped the idea of the bright-eyed sergeant away too quickly. it cut at simon's heart.

a pat on his shoulder had him roused from his thoughts, and he met eyes with price. price nodded at him, and he dipped his head back. swallowing shallowly, he stood up, following behind the captain.

once they reached the snowy ground, price waved nik off, and nik grinned and winked before launching in the air again and leaving. now, it was just the four of them, plus the two rookies that had been assigned this mission.

"alright," price started, coughing. his eyes narrowed, and he gestured at the facility that was barely visible from their view. "we're just going in to grab intel. they have guards, yes, but they are easy to bypass. it's easy. don't make it harder than it has to be." at the collective 'yes sirs!' he recieved, he nodded.

"sergeant valkyrie, lieutenant mirage, go on overwatch. me and the others are going into building A. keep watch for us. don't mess up; this is important." when the sergeant and the lieutenant nodded, he turned to the direction of the building.

"alright. when we get there, i'll tell overwatch where to set up, then we'll go and get that intel. shouldn't take too long." clapping his hands, he continued. "let's get going."

they trudged at least a few miles towards the compound, dropping of overwatch on the way. when they reached the cliff that dropped down to reveal the building, price split them into smaller groups.

it took them a few minutes to get down, grunts of effort being heard through comms. the awkward shuffling from the rookie's side of the comms were picked up, agitating ghost's ears. he was tempted to turn it off, but he decided against it. it would stop later, anyway. they'd get busy and focus.

gritting his teeth, he took out his assault rifle. price gave them a few more directions, before they took off for their missions.

it starts off slow. yeah, it started off slow. but now, here they were, huddled under some block of cement, to hide from the rain of bullets coming their way. price curses under his breath from ghost's side, reloading his gun hurriedly before peeking out from the side of the block and shooting.

ghost looked out from the side as well, shooting enemies one by one with deadly accuracy.

"overwatch, how many more are there?" price hisses, reloading his gun again.

"they just keep coming, sir," valkyrie says, growling under his breath as he snipes some soldier in the swarm of konni's coming after them.

"fuuuck, there wasn't supposed to be this many!"

ghost couldn't help the snort that left him. price side eyes him, then roughly grabs his shoulder.

"we're moving, lieutenant, come on."

nodding, he covered the captain as the sprinted into the building next to them. once they entered, it became eerily silent, save for their shoes squeaking against the sterile marbled floor. it looked like a part of an airport, almost, minus all the obviously military things lying around.

even when price lowered his gun, ghost kept his up. they couldn't afford to be caught off guard.

"simon. there isn't anyone in here."

flicking his eyes to price, he slowly lowers the gun. if price told him to lower the gun only for them to get --

he lets out a surprised sound as something -- no, someone -- tackles him to the ground. his head hits the ground first, and the all-too-familiar feeling of the barrel of a gun being pressed to the back of neck is present before he hears price letting out a shout and barreling towards the figure on top of him to the ground.

ghost groans, head spinning. he hears the sounds of price and the russian tussling besides him, but he can't seem to care over the pain in his head.

it takes a few seconds to finally come too, but when he does, he realizes that price is being attacked. and suddenly his senses are in overdrive, and he sweeps the attacker of their feet and onto the ground. their gun goes flying, and they land on their back with a pained grunt. he goes to stand over them. and now he gets to see their face.

his heart drops.

a familiar face. it isn't supposed to be familiar -- the eyes. it's fucking green, not blue. and the muzzle. and the fluffed out, ruffled mohawk. it isn't johnny. but it is? johnny wouldn't betray them. and he wouldn't do... whatever this is. wouldn't agree to it.

soap snarls from his position on the floor, eyes narrowed and staring apoplectically up at ghost. his breaths were coming out in short, angry puffs, the sound strange from the muzzle.

"johnny?"

nothing in his face changes. no pause, no hesitation, no sadness, no recognition. ghost face screws up under the mask in concern. what the hell happened to him?

price shakily gets up beside him, staring down at soap. his face was white as a sheet, and he whispers out a hoarse, "soap?"

soap grips ghosts ankles, writhing on the floor, trying to flip him over. he doesn't move, stuck gawking at soap.

"what did they do to you?" he murmurs out; half to himself and half to soap.

the only response he gets is a strangled "fuck you," from the man himself, still trying to flip ghost over.

price crouches on the ground, a pained expression on his face. he looks back up at ghost, eyes tired.

"what the hell should we do with him?"

"don't think he knows who we are. i said his name, no sign of recognition. doesn't look like he's willing to communicate, either. and you're the captain. you decide."

price sighs, rubbing his forehead as he thinks.

"well, either we just leave him here, cuff him to a bar." he pauses, seeing ghosts brow furrow.

"bu-- "

"and i know that's not an option anyone would like," he cuts ghost off, then continues with an exhale. "or we could sedate him and bring him back with us, and ask questions when we get back. or we could cuff him and bring him back. which one is safer?"

"unless you want to have a sparring match on the helo, i don't recommend cuffs. sedate seems safer, the only good option. i think gaz would try and murder us if we left soap here, too. you got a tranquilizer?"

price nodded. "yeah. can you hold him?"

"of course."

already crouching, price moved closer to soap, taking out a kit with the needle in it. the now green-eyed man's eyes widened, and he jerked away from price. ghost crouches down too, holding soap down. using one hand, he gently combs his fingers through his mohawk.

soaps eyes snap to ghosts; confusion lacing the sickly green. but he's staring up ghost, confusion turning into... fascination? interest? and he's certainly not paying attention when price winces and gets closer. he sticks the needle in the side of his neck when he gets close enough, and ghost grip on soap immediately tightens.

johnny immediately lurches away, crying out in surprise, and thrashing around. it only takes a few moments for the movements to become sluggish, and before they know it, soap is completely asleep.

it's quiet in the building. except for the loud breathing from soaps muzzle.

prices hand reaches to his comms. he clicks it on, voice low and gravelly as he speaks into it.

"well. gaz, guess who we found?"

HEEEEEEEELP THAT WAS SO LAZY IM SOBBING 😭

i swear i can write better thn that -- that was like. only 50% energy. i rushed this in an hour. yes, an hour. that's not really rushing, but i got very distracted a couple times.

well, heres my serving of brainwashed soap for the night. don't expect anything from me for like. another month or two .😭i mean, the medieval fic is gonna kick off sometime, so expect that

i very quickly proofread this, so if there was typos jus,,. ignore that please 🙏

here u go, @spottlessspectre

161 notes · View notes

kombuuuu · 11 months

Text

Saviour of Mine.

Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

“You want stitches, big boy.”

“You gonna' stay on top of me?”

“No, but I'll make it hurt real nice.”

warnings : a little jealousy, not enjoying the spiderciety, a tad angst, more medical stuff i don’t know shit abt, misunderstandings, creepy obsession by a teacher, it gets better at the end promise,

requested by @viozxe :3 my boy my love i love him (gatekept this image for like two weeks but i finally have somewhere to use it)

For a man so true to his word, Miles had a thing for flaking on you.

You hadn’t seen him in around six hours. The event he had fled from leaving you dressed in your nicest clothes, looking like a sweet mess surrounded by family members not your own. After the first forty or so minutes, you had politely excused yourself from his Mama Rio and Officer Jefferson — Who both insisted you refer to them by their first names — , and booked it out of there.

You'd assumed he'd ran off with his little spider-clique. Something you'd rather not join, considering your particular distain for the man in charge. Who so happened to have quite the distaste for you, also. Avoiding the mirage of spider people had been relatively easy thus far, with the multi-versal gaps and all. But when Gwen Stacy had started to come see Miles more often — You would have to either sit through the excruciating task of listening to them talk. Which involved a lot more intimate moments than you were comfortable with being witness too. Or leave whilst she was there, and presumably not talk to Miles for a few hours — or.. days. Depending on wether he ditched you for her or not.

Having your best friend, of which you had fallen infatuated too, try and get with another girl right on front of you, any time they were together? Not the most ideal of situations. So you went home.

—

You cradled the led pencil on your dominant hand, other tapping to the beat of the song playing through your headphones. Sweet R&B to soothe your woes, whilst you focused on the homework in front of you.

You grabbed the rubber, sighing in exasperation and starting to scrub at your page, getting a little too frustrated and tearing the flimsy paper in the process.

You stared at the tear for a moment before borderline yelling, a tearless sob escaping you before you dropped your head against your desk. Slumping down into a flopped position.

You had to complete this by Monday, you knew that. Mr. Warren was the nicest teacher at your school. He’d helped you when you parents couldn’t. Taken you in — you’d even told him about Miles. He didn’t seem to like him very much, said it was a shame they shared a first name. You thought it was a crazy coincidence.

You slowly slid off your chair, pushing it back on its wheels as you went until eventually you were rested lying on the ground, staring at the window of your room.

Golden light shone through your curtains in a bright calling, basically signalling your escape as it sung to you.

You stared for another solid minute before groaning, Mr. Warren could wait.

Avidly ignoring the ache in your chest at the thought of finding Miles with the current focus of his interest.

You crawled to your closet and reached for the handle, still on the floor — before remembering your Van Der Waals and just using the tip of your fingers to lazily pull it open.

You snorted at yourself, before shuffling through the box at the bottom of your closet and pulling out the sleek spider suit.

The next minute was spent trying to energetically shuffle on your suit, and get your adrenaline running. Which proved working when you were rather excited — or antsy — to swing your way around the city.

You closed your window behind you, crawling up your building and letting the cold air force you more awake.

You backed up, jumping a little hop as you did. Bouncing on your feet before you ran, leaping off your building in a refreshing spin.

An excited yelp left your mouth before you shot a web to the next building over, using the top of a bus on the bust Brooklyn streets to boost your momentum, gradually gaining speed as you swung through the city in a series of twists and flips. Graceful swinging amidst a series of fumbling and laughing to yourself, still somewhat new to the spider-person talents.

You pulled out your phone, the small thigh pocket you had specially designed for your suit making it easier to carry your essentials around when you were in no need for over coats.

You stuttered in your swings, a small squeak escaping you when you almost hit a bird, yelling out a “Sorry!” to the poor thing.

The thwip of your web attaching to a near tall building sent another rush through you, curving yourself between two structures and landing on top of a bell tower. The same one you and Miles had been visiting together for the past year. You tripped a little over your own feet before righting yourself, smiling under the mask.

You didn’t need those other spider people, didn’t need a “Community to fall back on.”—, as that Miguel had put it.

You had yourself, Miles, and a teacher that supported you. And that’s all you needed.

—

You dialled Miles’ number. The irony of your inner statement making you cringe a little. You inner voice convincing you that literally no one else can hear you be embarrassed. You were speaking in your head. Your other—, more combative, inner voice— saying otherwise.

You willed them both quiet as your phone rung.

Miles’ cute face being showing on the profile photo, you stared at it as you waited, foot tapping the cement bell tower.

His face was in your hands, and smiling that charming smile he always did. His cheeks were squished in your hold as you kissed his cheek, holding the camera.

It was a romantic photo, if not for the fact you were best friends. You found yourself getting jealous of your past self. Chastising her for not relishing in that moment further.

Your phone beeped twice, signalling the call ringing out. You stared at it curiously, Eyes of your mask tilting into confused slants.

“C’mon man, pick up.” You whispered to yourself, glaring at the device in your hands and trying again.

When he didn’t pick up then, either — you had started to get impatient. And ended up rolling your eyes at him.

Muttering curses along with phrases of envy under your breath.

You had nothing against Gwen, in all honestly, she was a perfect fit for him — charming and troubled just like he was. Able to bond over their shared issues and shared interest.

Like each other.

You scoffed and shoved your phone back into your pocket, before angrily shooting a web, and slinging away.

Going to a bodega you knew always cheered you up to get rid of the mood you had out yourself in.

—

You walked out of the bodega with your bag in hand, your other waving joyfully to the owner, Hoa, the sweet lady you had met three weeks after moving here. Who made the best Bánh Mi you could find. You pet her cat on the way out, the sweet Turkish Angora purring as she nosed along your hand.

Hoa yelled out for you to “Come back whenever, Spider. On the house, next time.”

“Never on the house, Hoa.”

Her annoyed grumbles fades the farther away you walked. Skipping a bit as you pulled out the food, crisp bread with all the fillings you loved making the first bite look heavenly. You had the urge right then to pull up your mask in front of every flashing camera just to taste that home made bread.

You sighed your compliments instead.

“She never misses.”

“Who never misses?”

You startled at the civilian that had approached you, his tall stature and spiky nature making him stand out so much you wonder how you hadn’t noticed him.

Maybe your spider senses were distracted with your food.

“Oh— uh..,” You sucked your teeth for a second, eyes darting curiously around, wondering why he wasn’t just like the other civilian. Taking photos and videos of you as you walked past — ever fascinated by the new “Hero” around. You would barely call yourself that, but it’s what the people deemed you.

“My.. Friend.”

The man bent down by the waist, hands behind his back as he started walking with you.

“Name’s Hobie. Guessin’ your ‘friend’ made tha’ sweet lookin’ sandwich, mm?”

“Mm.. She uh— Oh, I’m —!..” You paused, tripping over your feet and scuffing your shoes. You cringed under the mask, stuffing the food back into your bag.

“..Spiderwoman.. She makes good food. Yup.”

Hobie snorted at how quick you were about to reveal your identity to who you assumed to be some confident civilian.

You awkwardly walked with him, every now and again glancing longingly at your sub as he leisured in his pace. Taking his sweet time walking who knows where whilst you begrudgingly accompanied the stranger — or not stranger. Acquaintance.

“Ya’ real confident for a Spidey.” Hobies’ sarcastic voice drawled, sniffing and scrunching his eyebrows before his face relaxed into a teasing smile again.

You side glanced him, otherwise focused on trying to leave the conversation. “Well considering there’s only three — two, of us.” You giggled nervously, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Rest in peace, Spidey-1.” You — somewhat — joked.

Hobie let out a snort and choked on his breath, laughing at your awkward nature.

No wonder Miguel hadn’t let anyone even mention your lack of inclusion to the Spider-force.

Not after the first day of trying to convince you, anyhow.

It would have been utterly humiliating to be bested by someone who couldn’t hold a conversation for the life of her.

Hobie had a lot of respect for you, right off the bat. He knew the moment that Miguel (and Jess) had come back from Miles’ universe — pissed off and *alone — that you hadn’t been persuaded. And considering Jess and Miguel had a rather unique skill with their convincing, feeding off vulnerabilities in younger Spider-people to be the lack of parental figure in their lives, or elder — to have relatability in their pains. It wasn’t technically ill intended, but Hobie thinks it’s more than a little manipulative.

So to have you — someone he’s seen is vulnerable, hurting, easy; not fall victim to the duos tactics, and actively *berate them for it.

He was well awed.

And his brotherly instincts kicked in terribly fast. He thinks he sees a lot of himself in you. Awkward and growing into yourself, struggling against the high standards you were held to as a spider. And fighting from that box people tried to put you in.

So yeah, well awed would be an understatement. Proud would be a criminal understatement.

So when he had been looking for Gwen, trying to show her some stupid thing Pavitr had sent him just to show her — and realised she was gone. He checked his watch, lo and behold, she was in your universe.

Meaning she was with Miles, who rather actively tried to steer you away from his spider drama. Right now, though? He was distracted.

And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

He walked with you for a while longer, letting you both get comfortable in the silence of a stranger.

“This ain’t weird f’ you, mate?”

You had both ended up at some alleyway, filled with stalls of food and bustling people pausing in their tracks to stare at the oddly placed pair of Hero and “Random Punk?”

“Not quite. I’ve had weirder interaction with weirder guys.”

He nodded in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, Guess ‘m not as weird as some villains.” The brit droned, dropping down to your height and eyeing the stalls as you passed, pocketing some things from stores he knew as bigger organisations.

“I was talking about regular people, but yeah those too.”

He laughed, grinning at your dry humour and nodded again, leaning into your view and smirking at your adjusting lenses.

You reached the stall you were looking for, the girl greeting you with a smiling “Hi, Spidergirl!”

Your eyes shrunk, “Spiderwoman, Spiderlady, Spider — and you chose the most demeaning.”

“Well, you are built rather girl like, young and spry and — oh, is that Hoa’s Bahn Mi?”

You nodded enthusiastically at Avanti, dropping your hand into the bag and pulling out a cookie you’d saved for her.

Hobie watched the interaction from stood behind you. Slipping in a “You had a spare cookie this entire time?”

You snorted and Avanti handed you a peach ice tea and a couple of her home-made desserts in a Spider-man themed lunch box. A note reading “Got this just for you — brin bring it back!!” placed on top, you glanced up, putting the lunch box in your bag as you did so and thanked her before you and Hobie were off again. “Seriously, the whole walk. No cookie.”

You laughed at his pouting tone, “I’ll get you one, next time, big man.”

He draped his arm over your shoulder, leaning some weight on you and started talking about random things he could think about during the trip back to your apartment.

You’d grown to enjoy his company, the older man — and his lack of filter — being oddly entertaining. You quipped, and he quipped back. Not enough for you to really trust him seeing your apartment, but enough that you set the boundary on your block.

“Hey Hobes, this has been a really good talk—,”

“Gotta ge’ back to ya’ Spiderin’, aye?”

You smiled up at him, lenses sliding into a pleased expression. “Yeah, real difficult stuff y’know? Saving the city and all that.”

He nodded along with you, right as his funky watch (that did not at all match his outfit, but looked to be bedazzled with a series of metal spikes) beeped. He brought his arm up and checked the small screen, face morphing into one of annoyance. “Aye’. Right timin’ mate, cause I just got a call from HQ.”

“Ahh.. Big cooperation?”

“Not in a million years, brutha’. More like a socie’y.”

He looked up at you and grinned. “Miguel really don’t like when I flake out on ‘im.”

You paused a second while Hobie fiddled with his watch, reaching into his back pocket while checking for anyone around. When he found no one, he slipped out his spiked mask and slid it on.

You stared, dumbfounded.

He clapped your shoulder again, scoffing amused at your wide-eyed expression.

“Was this —“

“A ploy f’ you ta’ join the Spider socie’y? Not a’ all, mate.” He sniffed, itching his head through his mask and squeezing your shoulder.

“I right respect ya’ f’ not joinin’. Wish I woulda’ had ya’ will at my age.”

“Oh… Thanks…”

He nodded at you, Lenses squinting.

“Yeah but, I gotta dip, Gwen’s not distractin’ Miguel with sneakin’ off no more. He pro’bly realised I was gone too.”

“Yuh huh…”

“Bye, [Name].”

You blanched one last time before he shot a web onto your neighbouring apartment building, opened a portal mid-air, and flung himself through.

“What the fuck..” You whispered to yourself, perplexed at the interaction that had just occurred.

“What the hell.”

—

It was two hours later, when you were full of Bahn Mi, Pastries and Ice Tea, rethinking everything he’d said; when his last words caught up to you.

Gwen’s out of this universe. Not in the figurative sense — Although she is everything everyone wants to be, but you’re gonna ignore that — So where the hell was Miles?

It was late now, Moon shining a casted light through your living room drapes just as the Sun had onto your bed hours prior.

You gradually dragged yourself from your couch, reaching over your coffee table with great effort to reach your charging phone.

You huffed, giving up and snatching your web slinger from the floor by your feet and shot a web to grab your phone, tugging it off the charger. The thicker part yanked out the wall instead, landing hard on your torso with a dull thump. You scrunched your face up and grumbled, cursing at the thing while you pull your phone off the now useless charger and throw it on the floor.

“Fuckin’ asshole…”

You flipped your phone, eyes widening when your lock screen lit up with a series of notifications. All getting progressively worse. Your spider-senses growing in alert.

miles (o O) 7:42 PM

haiiii

gwen left

u should’ve hung w us

haha

get it \(^ W ^ )\

hung

cause spider

i’m comigg to home now

yoii r home

soffy swinginf

waiiiiiiiiiixixiiixkm jjj fd

bab guy ine secon

The messages abruptly stopped, being replaced entirely by a series of calls. Some left voice messages, some not.

You clicked on a recorded voice message.

(miles (o O) Left a Message at 7:46 PM.)

“Hey, [Name]!” Miles’ cheery voice rang out through the speakers, bringing a lovesick smile to your face despite the off feeling you had in your chest.

“Just gonna — Oof, hey man! Not cool. — Gonna take care of this guy before—,” A pause and a grunt. “,—Before I come home to you, yeah? Pick up soon I wanna know what you’re doin’.” A begrudged shout sounded far from the speaker. “Are you on call right now?”

“It’s important!”

“We’re fighting!”

“I have a life loser—“ Three harsh beeps rung out, signalling the end of the voicemail.

You clicked on a few more, just quick tidbits of him complaining you not picking up, and fighting an unknown villain. Also complaining how he missed you and “This guys is not goin’ down!” He shouted louder; “C’mon man! I have somewhere to be!” “Suck my dick Spiderman!” “Woah—! Well don’t get angry now, asshole!”

“Hypocrite!”

“Am not!”

“Are too—“ Three beeps.

You clicked again.

“[Name], Please pick up! This guy can— Fuck! — You dickhead!” A beat played and a cough was heard. Your frown deepened.

“I’m at the—“ Cut off.

You checked for another voicemail, one continue the one left off. A worried scrunch in your nose. There wasn’t one.

Right as you were going to call him back, his profile photo popped up again, you pressed answer with a lip between your teeth.

“Miles?” laboured breathing came through the speakers, wet gasps and sniffled coughs every now and again. He was silent for a full minute before answering you.

“Hey, [Name]..” His voice was gravelling and deep, sandpaper against softened lips.

He sounded tired, and your heart rate picked up in fear, almost like he could hear it. “Fuck..,” He whispered into the phone, groaning. Holding the phone loosely on his end, as apposed to the anxious grip you had on on yours.

“I’m.. Stuck in some construction site.” He gasped. “Miles what the hell—!”

“Mi Vida, please. The guys not—“ A loud crash made the speaker in your phone crackle. A whispered “Shit.”, before he hung up.

You wanted to call back, but from his whispering, and panicked tone, you could only guess he was trying to hide.

Whoever this villain was, they weren’t giving up.

—

You followed his tracker, the location he was pinged at getting closer by the second. You breathed hard against the force of wind, dropping down into a run on where the location was set to be.

“Fuck, fuck— Miles where are you?..”

Your footsteps were light, crouching under concrete slabs and tip toeing around loose gravel. Red light was cast along unfinished floors and crumbling walls. Shadows reaching towards you from the corners of your eyes. Your spider senses were on high alert, at a constant buzz. They suddenly upt in pitch and you flinched around, almost screaming at the hand covering your mouth. Pressed harsh against your face, and another around the back of your head so you couldn’t escape. Your hands gripped the wrists of the stranger before you heard an incessant shushing.

“Conejita, quiet.”

You relaxed instantly, the eyes of your mask downturned in fearful stress.

His hands were shaking against your head, figure hunched and body scratched up. The tears in his suit spanning across his right shoulder and chest. He slowly removed his hands, bringing a lone finger to where his lips would be in his mask in a ‘hush hush’ manner.

Coming in closer to you, leaning down to where your ear would be and whispering “He’s still here.”

You grabbed his forearms, leading him deeper into the site, away from the reddened lights and into the creeping shadows.

He breathed heavy behind you, throat wet with his own blood, he grunted and tried to help you in walking with him, good arm thrown over your shoulder as you dragged him. “C’mon, just a little farther.”

“What’re you…” He cut himself off, heaving. You set him down in the quiet corner, tucked behind two large concrete sheets and some large bent up pipes.

“Just—, sit here Miles, okay?” You brought his head up to yours, still talking in a quietened voice. Hands on his face and crouched in front of his slumping form.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

You stood from crouching, hands slipping off his face while he dragged forward to stay in your grasp — mumbling something like a plea for you to stay.

You turned from him, dashing away in silent movements, slinging yourself up onto high ground and turning back to make sure he wasn’t visible unless you truly looked — he wasn’t.

You lept off, disappearing from his sight with a yank against your webs.

He mumbled, shifting closer in your direction as the exhaustion hit him. Huffing, he leant back. Letting his head hit the wall and focus on keeping his eyes open.

"Quédate despierto.. No te muevas..."

“Stay awake.. Don’t move…”

He heaved again, the heaviness in his chest deepening.

“Stay…” He closed his eyes — for just a second, just for the relief — Dragging his hand up to rip the mask off of him, and forcing himself to open them again, to watch the Moon.

“Awake.”

—

You creep around corners, listening in and honing your senses to a point. For anything, a trip, a movement. A breath.

You whipped your head to the left, following the sound of light breathing.

“Come out little bunny.”

You tensed, he’d heard you.

“Ah, don’t worry, honey—,” You heard him creep forward, closer to you. He didn’t know where you were, obvious by the hesitance in his steps, but he had the right direction. You can move now, he would hear. And with how he’d heard Miles’ mere whisper before, you suggest maybe he had an ability similar to your own. “,Not him I want, anyways.”

That made your shoulders loosen a little, but you never rested. Who knows whether he was lying or not.

You shot a web, hitting the pipe of your aim and jumping from one to another, using your webs to steady yourself. You heard him huff a laugh.

“I heard that.”

Your eyes slanted, crouching into a spidered position. You crawled, using the stick of your fingers to steady across the pipe, sticking to it and trying to find the mystery man in the sea of red the warning lights casted.

Your spidey-senses went haywire and you jumped from the pipe in less than a second. Right as you did, a bang went off and you stumbled forward, landing in rubble and groaning. Rolling before you steadied yourself and jumped up. No rest until your opponent is resting in Death.

You finally saw him. What looked to be some guy in a green fuzzy suit.

“My girl..”

“Wha— *Are you a furry?”

He groaned, and charged for you, right hand outstretched and left in a clenched fist. He swung for your head, twisting his body as he did. You shot a web on his abdomen, pulling him towards you and jumping to slip under his arm, using his prior speed to throw him into a block of concrete, just missing a pole from stabbing him through the chest. He glanced at for a moment and grabbed his head — which had taken quite the hit.

“Seriously what type of Grinch cosplay is this?”

He growled again, like a man with rabies.

“C’mon dollface, don’t fight me here.”

“You hit first, asshole — Also what the fuck, i’m not your ‘doll’.” He shot for you again, throwing a bomb behind you to throw your body forward, you tried to grapple for stability, webbing to anything in reach. But he gripped your waist and held you against him.

“[Name]…”

You froze, body wanting to gag and shed your own skin at the same time.

You swung for his jaw, knocking him clean off you with a disgusted hand.

“Who the fuck are you!?”

He held his jaw and you stumbled farther from him. Hands held beside you, ready to attack if needed.

He grinned at you, blood seeping onto the green fur of his face, you felt sick.

“Oh, come on, babyface.” His jenky voice was digging into your skin, peeling it up and stabbing into your muscle. Twitching into your flesh and making your body hurt, making you hurt.

You ripped your mask up and hurled, spitting nothing but bile onto the ground below you, the burn of stomach acid sitting heavy in your throat and you felt like crying. Your breath heavy and gasps painful.

“What the fuck.”

—

You smiled at your professor. Waving back at him from the other side of the lecture hall. Miles come up behind you and hooked his arm around your shoulder, swaying against you as he chatted with you about anything that had happened in the time he hadn’t seen you. You snorted, chatting back — Forgetting completely about the other Miles.

You dropped your shoulder and your Miles stumbled, grumbling up at you before you gripped his forearm and dragged him to sit with you at the back of the hall. His mood changing in an instant as he followed along like a lost puppy, gawking at you with a dopey smile plastered across his face. His canines exposed, charming and boyish. How he always is. You sat him down, and sat next to you, and he dragged your chair a little closer, grabbing you leg and placing it over his.

He started laughing again at the eye roll you gave him, and you cracked — smiling and giggling with him.

What you hadn’t seen, was the glare settled on the two of you. The way Warrens previous smile had dropped into a snarling frown, hands gripping the pencil he had been holding in a death grip. He jumped at the sound of a crack, the pencil had snapped in his hands and he got even more pissed, about to scream at the *other Miles to get away from you. To get his hand off you.

That kid didn’t deserve you like he did.

You loved him like he loved you, he knew it.

You had too.

He watched you laugh and his heart fluttered, angry at who you were laughing for but still — you were so pretty.

You wouldn’t be laughing like that if he wasn’t here. You loved him.

—

“Mr. Warren?”

“How many times have I told you to call me Miles?” He slipped out of his own head, breaking from the stare he had on you.

You laughed sweetly, eyes shining. “How many times have I told you I already *have a Miles?”

He watched your smirk as you quipped back at him, a jealousy brimming in his chest. He chuckled, a heartless sound to no one but himself.

“Ahh, How many times am I going to forget?” He tapped his pencil on his desk and tried to focus on you instead. He watched you go back to your work, so intelligent, mature.

You shaded in the answer on the sleek sheet. You were right, of course.

A hair fell from behind your ears and he wanted to tuck it back, wanted to give you straight A’s for nothing despite knowing you would get them anyways.

You threaded you hand through your hair and if he wasn’t focused on how beautiful you were — maybe he’d be disappointed it wasn’t his own.

He watched you, forgetting the papers he was grading — he was focused on something else, now.

—

He was standing when you turned back. Hunching over his injuries and staggering towards you.

“Mr. Warren?”

“Yes, my dear.”

You gagged again, and he looked sad at the act.

“Please, baby—“ He stretched out his right hand, pleading with you.

“,—I know you love me too. I know that fucking Spider is taking you from me.”

He stepped closer.

“I know it.”

You stumbled back farther, wiping the spit from you lips and pulling your mask down, you went to shoot a web, to get away. But he was on you before you could, the hand not outstretched revealing a cloth covering his palm. Sodden and dripping a clear liquid.

He gripped your suit and dragged you forward, shoving the cloth closer to your face.

“Stop fucking resisting.”

“Get off!”

You gripped his forearm and bent it back, far enough you heard a snap. He yelped out. The sweet smelling cloth dropped from his hand and his other lost grip on your shirt. Taking the opportunity you dropped down, crouching on one leg and using the other to swipe the things legs from under him.

You watched him fall and grabbed the cloth. Hearing his pained groans as he tried to scramble up again.

You kicked a leg over him, straddling his chest and bringing your free hand back — swinging down on him with anguished cries.

He tried to raise his hands, you pinned them down in his own chloroform ridden cloth. He called your name, endearments that made you skin crawl. Tried kicking you off as his body grew weaker. Pleading with you, using his remaining strength to yank at his own arms.

He wrestled against your hits, face bloodied and nose broken. You hit again, watching his disgusting face whip to the side, blood leaking from his mouth as a tooth went flying.

Tears breached the edge of your eyes, frustration of every kind tearing your skin anew, your knuckles pouring the hurt you felt. Blood mixing in a sickening spill of feelings, an obsessive love — something cruel and harsh. And the injuries you’d sustained from it, equally as such cruel.

You’d spent *months trying for a man in love with someone else. And this man you had confided in, who had been a mentor in your trivialities — had taken advantage of that, of you.

He disgusted you.

You kept swinging.

—

Miles jerked awake, gripping the hands that were on his shoulders in an instant, the figure flinching back at his strength.

“Miles! Just me—,” He opened his eyes further, pain ringing through his body as he loosened in your hold.

“Just you.”

He took your appearance in, the blood coating your suit, that hadn’t seemed to be your own. The thick liquid shining on your hands and forearms, crudely splashed onto your mask — like something out of a horror film.

He reached up slowly, pulling off you mask with great effort. His own sitting next to him. You were on your knees before him, bathing in red so deep it could have been mistaken for black against the reddened light. He groaned when you touched his chest, coughing a little at the pain.

“Sorry! Sorry — I’m so sorry.” You quickly retracted your hand and gasped. Apologising through near tears. He wet his lips, watching your tear lined eyes in worry.

“Hey— Conejita, what— what happened?”

Letting his hands rest on your cheeks, carbon fibre wiping at soft skin.

You sobbed, gripping his wrists and moving his weak hands closer to you. His brows furrowed further.

“I don’t — I don’t know, he —,”

You breathed fast against his palms, crying to him. Miles straightened himself up, ignoring the pains shooting up his body and trying to comfort you, shushing your cries and cradling your face.

“Mr. Warren he was —“

Miles’ eyes widened, finally letting the familiarity in his voice click. That was who it was, who was so mad at him, disgusted by the Spider.

Miles shuddered, thinking back to the off feeling he’d always had around the older man.

How he was always around you.

“What did he do.”

His eyes darkened and you cried harder, Miles had completely forgotten about his wounds, shifting to get up and find the fucking bastard.

You gripped him tighter, “Miles. He’s not —,”

“Where is he.”

“Dead.”

His breath escaped him, the blood made sense now. He got closer to you and slid his hand around your head, pushing your face into his good shoulder.

You cried again, shaking form cradled against his own weakened body.

“Shh, Mami. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“We’re alright, I promise.”

He hugged you closer, pressing a haste kiss to your forehead.

“You’re safe.”

—

You helped him home, having to hold him up and swing at the same time, which wasn’t much as a hassle as you thought it would be.

You both sat on your couch, him lying down with you sitting on his thighs.

He watched you work, suit and mask discarded somewhere in your living room and clad only in a pair of loose joggers you had found for him.

Your face was pinched into a frown, eyes still puffed from crying and a brows scrunched unpleasantly.

“Stop moving.”

“I’m not.” He threw his head back, rolling his eyes at your complaining.

“See? Moving.” You poked his chest and he winced.

“Okay! Okay— Damn, chica.”

You smiled at his tone, a small, timid thing. And he pushed down the fluttering in his stomach.

“You’re lucky you don’t need stitches.”

“Lucky? Havin’ you here longer would make me lucky.”

You grumbled, pouting at him angrily. “You want stitches, big boy?”

“You gonna stay on top of me?”

“No, but i’ll make it hurt real nice.”

He snorted, shifting to look at you better.

“Then, nah.”

You kept at your work, patting him with antiseptics and making him hold an ice pack across the forming bruises.

And he admired you, the streaks of light from the window falling against your face. A city ridden with crime making you so, so pretty.

“Why’d you come for me?”

You gave him a curious look but continued to patch him up. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I?”

He sniffled, averting his gaze. “I dunno I just— didn’t expect you to show up.”

You shook your head a little, understanding his fears.

“I’d always show for you, Miles.”

He hummed, flustered at the thought.

You moved up to his face, gently patting away blood with a warm hand towel, your other hand holding his face towards you. Fingertips brushing his cheeks in a hold so caring he might’ve fainted if it wasn’t you holding him. He’d stay awake for you this time. He’d protect you this time.

“I love you.”

You froze, towel stuck in the air and your eyes locked onto his.

Miles held his breath, waiting for your reply as he watched you clock the words.

His nerves got to him quick, spouting out whatever he could in your silence.

"Estaba hablando con Gwen y me ayudó a darme cuenta, ¿sabes? No paraba de decir que estaba enfermo de amor, yo no lo entendía y pensé que quizás debería..."

“I was just talking with Gwen and she helped me realise, you know? Kept saying I was lovesick and I didnt get it and I just thought maybe I should—“

“I love you too.”

He snapped his gaze back to you. Hope colouring his eyes a sparkling gold.

“You do?” He whispered, an intimacy running through his bloodstream. Heart pumping too fast in haste of the pure admiration he held for you.

You nodded, and your hands splayed out further, cradling the edge of his lips.

“I do.”

He tried to sit up, abs clenching under effort to get closer to you, you let him drag you forward. He ditched the ice pack and settled his hands on the crest of your thighs, rubbing his thumb over your hips.

“Say it again?”

He whined, begging you. He wanted, needed to hear you say it again.

“I love you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, forehead pressing against your own. You followed.

The things he felt for you were too much, too much. His chest was heaving again, but not from pain. This was love he hadn’t experienced before, this was anything but painful.

"Dios, también te amo."

“God, I love you too.”

Your hands slipped from his lips to the back of his neck, scratching gently along his nape and he shivered.

“Let me kiss you? Please?”

He whispered again, voice cracking. Chapped lips brushing against your own softer ones in a featherlight touch. He was holding off, not letting himself the pleasure without you wanting him back — he wanted to know you wanted him back.

“Please.” You were sure, certain — and it was all he needed.

He kissed you sweetly, letting himself indulge in you without restraint.

He hadn’t known what he’d been missing out on — but now he does. Know he knows. And god, if he hadn’t felt more full in his entire life.

Everything had been bland compared to you, had been bitter and dull against the sweetness of your lips. Smooth against rough skin and he’d never felt something so soft before. His hands gripped you harder for just a moment and you pulled back merely an inch to catch your breath. He opened his eyes and watched your lips sparkle in the same light he’d admired minutes before.

“I love you too.”

You smiled at him and he pulled you ever closer. “I know, Miles.”

—

“I fuckin’ told ya’, mate.”

“Wh— I never said otherwise!”

“Yeah but ya’ neva’ agreed either, aye?”

“I never disagreed.”

“Pff, whateva.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, scoffing at the brit next to her with a smile on her face.

They watched you both as Miles nervously introduced you to Peter. A sort of Spider-convention was set up. And the invite was — begrudgingly — extended to you.

“They’re cute, though.”

“Bloody oath.”

You offered the older man with a warmed gaze, turning to the kid in his arms and cooing. He smiled at you, being one of your favourite spiders had its perks.

He was one of the only ones who never tried to make you join the society, so he got a pass from you.

Miles held your hand and smiled, chatting with Peter excitedly once he realised the lack of tension.

“Do you want to hold her?”

“Do I—,” You looked up at him hopefully. “Yes! Uh— Yeah. Yes please.”

You dropped Miles’ hand and he pouted, watching you take the baby from Peters arms, the early father fretting as you waved him off, insuring him you knew how to care for a child.

Peter relaxed and stood next to Miles as you rocked his baby gently. A rather fond feeling overtaking them both — leading Peter to take a photo of you with his kid, and Miles to shyly ask him to send it to him.

The look of you with a kid? It was way too early in life for baby fever.

He huffed when he heard people making kissy noises behind him. You too preoccupied with entertaining the kid to realise it.

He turned to the trio of teens behind him and flipped them off. Pavitr gasped offendedly at him and Hobie and Gwen laughed, causing Miles to roll his eyes and snort.

“Assholes.”

You gently passed MayDay back to Peter and gave a quick kiss to her head. Peter going off to get her a bottle.

Miles came up next to you and you smiled at him, watching the skyline from the buildings rooftop.

“[Name].”

You huffed and rolled your eyes at the voice behind you.

Way to ruin a moment.

“Miguel.”

You turned to him, Miles cringing quickly as he turned with you.

“Hey— Miguel! Crazy seein’ you here, haha! Insane.” Miles nervously laughed, his voice deepening on the last word and you coughed a laugh, agreeing with him.

“Uhuh, crazy.” A sly smile adorned your features and you grabbed his hand again, interlocking your fingers in a foxy movement.

“You weren’t invited.”

“Huh? Of course I wasn’t!—“ Your smirk grew bigger. “—I’m a plus one.”

He glared down at you and it only felt all the more justifiable, he opened his mouth to talk before Peter was dancing over with MayDay held out.

“Here take this, thanks!”

He quickly handed her off to Miguel and spun him around by his shoulders, continuing to walk with him in the other direction. “She needs a sleep. Rock her to sleep.”

“Wh—“

“Rock her.”

—

Miles gripped your hips, swaying gently with you to the soft music playing in your kitchen. Your Ma had left two weeks prior for a month long work trip, and he couldn’t stay away. The domesticity he had built with you reaching an all time high as he watched you cook.

He rested his head on your shoulder and you both continued to sway a little. Moving his hands past your hips to lean his hands on the bench you cut your food on, caging you in slightly. You hummed, reaching for a tomato and placing it on the board.

“I love you.”

You giggled — a sweet, girlish thing.

“Love you too, baby.”

“Love you more.” He smiled against your shoulder.

“Pfft, yeah okay, big boy.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, and his heart fluttered again.

—

GOD DAMN AS ALWAYS WAY OFF THE RAILS

lovely translator @sataraxia

(literally my bf the delusions are getting worse he’s my bf guys!!! ⬇️)

#across the spiderverse #miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #spiderverse x reader #miles x reader #miles my beloved #miles morales x you #atsv miles #miles 1610 #miles x y/n #miles x you #miles morales x y/n

1K notes · View notes

emthimofnight · 1 month

Note

Hello

So how would your fankids react to someone proclaiming their love to them? Asking for a friend🙏🏻

And for scientific purposes ofc

AIGHT HERE YOU GO:

Stellar: Very flustered and wondering if it is a joke. She's never been confessed to before and wouldn't know how to respond! She might make an excuse to leave to avoid embarrassing herself further. 😂

Camellia: Has been confessed to numerous times and knows how to deal with it with dignity. She is very aloof with men and is quick to nip any attraction to her in the bud. She would be far more flustered if a pretty girl confessed to her, though!

Thistle: His sister is the one always having suitors chase her around, so he would be DELIGHTED to have someone confess to him!! Being the young prince, he is often overlooked or overshadowed. He's quite the romantic at heart and often dreams of what his future partner might be like!

Jasper: He'd be very amused and would love the attention. He's a total playboy, so he eats shit like that up! If he found the person attractive, he might even entertain a date or two to see if they click. No promises for anything long-term, though!

Jade: Very chill. Would thank the confessor for the sentiment and would even go on a date with them if prompted. Kind of unintentionally a heartbreaker because she treats everyone with the same level of interest. It is very hard to tell if she likes someone more than the usual amount, or if that is just how she is!

Calico: Would be quite touched that someone had feelings for them, and would certainly try to reciprocate, if possible. They recognize how hard it is to put yourself out there and would do their best to give the person a chance!

Mirage: Oh, man. Good luck to anyone brave enough to confess to this jackass. He'd probably just say, "You have good taste," accept the flowers or chocolates and walk off. 💀 I think the only way someone would be successful in wooing Mirage is if they were someone that managed to get close to him first.

BONUS KIDS FROM OTHER AUS:

Serene: VERY FLUSTERED. Would turn red as a beet and try to hide her face. She might accidentally send the confessor flying with telekinesis, which would make her want to sink into the ground and disappear. 😂

Void: He would smirk and accept whatever offering of affection given, his eyes lacking any real light in them. He just assumes it is natural for someone to be attracted to him and cannot imagine any other specimen being able to compete with him. He believes it is logical to desire someone powerful as a mate, and who out there is better than he? That being said, whether he actually reciprocates is entirely determined by what he could get out of the person confessing.

Andromeda: Absolutely gobsmacked. She would have no idea how to react! She would be both happy to be receiving such attention, and horrified because she has no idea how to respond. She might end up sending the person confessing to her flying just to get out of the situation. That being said, she is a lesbian, and while she might enjoy having that kind of attention regardless of gender, she would only ever reciprocate those feelings to another woman.

Polarity: He would think that the person confessing to him was somehow put up to it or trying to prank him. If he was convinced the person was serious, he would be a floundering mess. Like, "Are you sure?" and "ME? You really want ME?". Once he got over the hurdle of his own self-esteem, he'd be really happy someone wanted him that way, regardless if he reciprocated those feelings or not.

108 notes · View notes

httpsghostie · 9 months

Text

One Last Time

this came to me as a dream, and I have no fucking words for it

in advance: there won't be a pt 2 <3 suffer w me <3

Summary: a one night stand that should've remained that.

Word Count: 2,1k

Warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, toxic!John Price x f!reader, angst/hurt // masterlist

You had met him at a bar.

Dim lights, loud music, far too many tequila shots.

He seemed like the perfect pair for that night, all alone, no ring on his finger, no one to call him mine. You had him all to yourself back then, when you mustered the courage to walk up to him and politely ask for his number.

That led him to your house, both of you being way too drunk to think about the fact that you had a roommate. Making out on the way to your room, his hands everywhere on your body, keeping you close, his rough beard itching your face with every kiss.

He obviously fucked you just the right way. Pinning you down on your bed, thrusting his hips against yours, marking your waist with his fingers. He couldn’t get enough from you, how you hungrily swallowed every inch he had to give you.

It was all a hot mess, your hand covering your mouth to stop you from screaming, the sound of skin slapping filling your room, his musky scent everywhere in your sheets. His guttural groans as he came inside you, regaining consciousness right after it and freaking out with you.

This had felt like a wet dream, the way his body intertwined with yours, the way he felt so warm and cuddly when you fell asleep on his broad chest. You were a fragile snowflake cradling his presence. Yet, just as snow melts under the warmth, he dissolved from your grasp, leaving behind nothing but a dampened sense of loss.

He felt like an apparition, a hidden visitor from another realm. Leaving you behind just like the waves wash away footprints on the sand.

Your roommate, also your best friend, was like a sister to you. And you bet she would notice there was something off about you. Of course she heard the indistinguishable sound of sex coming from your room, and since you seemed to be so sad after it ended, she didn’t think about complaining.

Until it happened again, another drunk night, and one round of angry sex.

“Why’d you leave me?” You asked, panting as he had you in a mating press position.

“What?” He took a moment to register your words as he slammed his hips into yours. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“John!” You laid on your elbows, looking in his eyes, but he threw his head back, holding the back of your knees for support. He let a few grunts escape the back of his throat, his pace becoming frantic.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum, where do you want me to cum?” He finally looked at you, but it seemed like he never even listened to you.

You laid back, not saying a word as he pulled out, covering your stomach with his release. He wasn’t gonna be irresponsible again. He collapsed by your side, pulling you in his muscular arms, holding you close like you were about to escape.

“What were you saying?” He asked.

It was useless trying to put up a fight with someone whom you have had sex twice. This was supposed to be a one night stand, and somehow you had to turn this into romance, of course, how could you not? Year after year having no one paying attention to you, just another face in the crowd, blurred and indistinct among the sea of other faces.

That’s when he appeared, like a breath of fresh air, like the tide washing over a neglected shore. His overall dominant side, the gentle hand resting on your lower back accompanying you to the car, how he caressed your arm when you were about to sleep.

And then you woke up again, feeling like he appeared to you as a mirage, promising relief from your thirst, but disappeared as you reached out.

“It’s the second time.” Your friend hissed as your messy figure emerged from your room. She was making coffee, as always.

“I didn’t see him go.” You mewled, yawning as you took a seat on the stool.

“He’s a coward, you should stop seeing him.” She gave you a stern look and you flipped her off. “I mean it, he’s no good for you, you keep whining since the first time he was here, he’s not the only guy in the world. You don’t even know what he works with. He could be dangerous.”

“Your kindness is truly overwhelming.” You gave her a fake smile.

But she was true, he had scars on his body from what you remember. Not like a “hurt myself cutting veggies” type of scars, more like a “I’ve been stabbed and shot and I’m still standing” type of thing.

Who was he, after all?

Did it even matter to you?

His absence was like trying to reach for the reflection of the moon on the water, an ethereal beauty that remains out of touch. His absence only makes you grow needier for him, desperate, to the point you ask the bartender if he knows where John lives or what he does. You get a shallow answer, but informative enough. He’s in the military. That’s probably the reason why he keeps disappearing from time to time.

“Tomorrow’s the last saturday of the month, I think he’ll be here. But I never told you this.”

And there you were, all dressed up, waiting for him. Hours passed by, and just when you were about to leave, he came through the door. You got up, eager to go talk to him, but he was followed by some more guys who all sat at the bar beside him. After taking a deep breath, you walked up to him, tapping on his shoulder and interrupting his laughter. He looked at you up and down and didn’t say a thing, you were frowning, trying to read him.

“Do I know you?” He asked.

You blinked, hearing the sudden sound of your shattering heart breaking into pieces.

“No, I-... I thought you were a friend of mine, sorry.”

You showed a weak smile, eyes immediately filling with hot tears. You nodded to the guys and walked away, still hearing their conversation from a distance.

“She cute, if you don’t want her, don’t mind me.”

“Stay in your fucking seat, sergeant.”

You stopped, spinning on your feet and walking towards them again.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help but listen.” You chuckled. The cute guy wearing a hat with the UK flag on it was looking at you and smiling. “But I’m available.” You smiled.

He got up to greet you properly, but John stood up and hit the bar with clenched fists.

“Told you to stay fucking seated.” He walked to you, grabbing your wrist in front of his friends. “Come on.”

He dragged you out of the bar, taking you to the smoking area. He lit up a cigarette, nervously shaking his leg. You watched intently as his fingers were trembling and how thousands of thoughts seemed to run on his mind.

“What were you thinking?” He suddenly snapped, making you take a step back.

“What was I thinking? You show up once in a lifetime like you’re a fucking fugitive.” Tears rolled down your cheeks as you said.

“Maybe I am, maybe you’re the reason I’m running.” He blew smoke on your face and pointed at you as he spoke.

“Don’t put the fucking blame on me!” You hit his hand, making him drop the cigarette. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and stomped on it.

“Come.”

He dragged you once again, now to his car, opening the door and shoving you inside, entering just by your side, slamming the door on the way. He towered over you in the cramped backseat space and you inhaled his nicotine filled breath. Your attempts on kicking and punching him were useless as he was so much stronger than you. But you didn’t want him away, you needed him there, even if this was the last time.

Long minutes passed as he stared at your teary eyes, clashing his lips against yours in a hot kiss. You couldn’t fight him, in fact, you didn’t want to win this fight.

The kiss was hungry, filled with need and lust. His hands roamed your thighs, hips, waist, breasts, until they rested on each side of your neck, pulling you closer. His jeans and your panties were thrown somewhere in the car and your skirt was lifted. You were on top of him, riding his length as he kept you locked in his arms, occasionally thrusting his hips upwards.

You grabbed onto his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh, and he groaned. He missed this feeling. He couldn’t help but think of you when he was in the deep of the quarters, so far from your touch, from your embrace. He blamed himself for leaving you since the first day, and he promised he would never come back to your town again, even if it meant moving. But he couldn’t resist the urge when he was back, he needed you more than he could explain. He was a fucking jerk, he never meant to hurt you, but he knew he couldn’t have you.

He came inside you again. Not moving as both of you tried to catch your breaths.

“We can’t keep doing this.” You said after a while, still laying in his chest.

“I know, I’ll have to carry a condom.”

“No, John, this. We can’t keep doing this.” You didn’t even have the courage to look in his eyes. He could only look at you as you gathered your panties and adjusted your clothes, mouth ajar, not being able to form a sentence. After a few minutes of awkward silence, he spoke:

“Can I take you home?”

What? So he could fuck you one last time and leave your room smelling like him? Not again.

“Yes.”

The silence was still weird. You couldn’t tell if your attempt at breaking up was successful, if he was pissed, heartbroken or what. The bar was just a few minutes from your house, so you were there shortly. You kept on looking forward, vision blurred as he was parked in front of your place.

“Can I stay the night?” He asked, looking at you, you saw him through your peripheral vision.

“One last time.”

You walked in, dropping your keys by the table. Your friend, who was watching a movie on the couch, gave you a serious stare.

“John’s staying the night. Can he have the couch?” You sighed.

Both of them looked confused, but your friend had a hidden amused expression. She nodded, giving you a hug and going to her room. John couldn’t believe you, but he couldn’t complain.

You gave him a blanket and a pillow and told him to make himself at home, shoving all of your emotions deep down your skeleton to bare his stay. But he just couldn’t, hearing your quiet sobs as he leaned against your door, the deep sense of agony filling his chest.

You ended up in his arms once again, crying in his chest like a desperate child. He soothed you, held you close, caressed your hair. Why was he doing all this if he would go away by the morning?

And morning came, casting eerie shadows against your face. He was there, already awake, looking at you.

But this didn’t feel willful. It felt odd. He wasn’t supposed to be there and both of you knew it.

“Why aren’t you gone?” You asked, half lidded eyes looking at him.

“Couldn’t find the door.” He chuckled.

“You didn’t have a hard time finding it the last time.” He sighed, trying to find his words.

“To be fair, I don’t know if I’m hurting you more by staying or leaving. If I leave, you complain, if I stay, you complain. You’re difficult to please.”

“You should’ve been gone when I woke up.” You sat on the bed, getting up and putting on your pants. You’d slept in his shirt somehow.

“I can stay-”

“John, it’s better for both of us if you go.”

He took a deep breath, looking at you if he was trying to memorize the way you looked.

You had his shirt, he knew it, you too, and none of you wanted to bring this up, lying to yourselves. He put on his hoodie and pants, and you led him to the front door, both of you staring at each other before he left, getting into his car.

His shirt remained on your body when you threw yourself on the bed again, only to find a handwritten note under your pillow.

“I’ll come back for that shirt.”

taglist: @butterbunana @snoisisabitch @nuhteyam @iamabsolutelynothere @blissful--moon @jellyluvr @khomugi @xaintxun @kichimiz @frog-spot @sasukeswife3 @aly0be

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john price #price call of duty #captain price #price cod #price #john price cod

131 notes · View notes

snipersfucker · 11 months

Note

If ur still taking requests then I am curious on your take on how Mirage would go about a crush who is basically the opposite of him? Quiet, introverted, doesn't really live for the high life yet he still falls for them? I find him very attractive but I'd rather read a book than go on a joy ride lol, I'm afraid I'd only disappoint him

you just like meee but that would not be a problem for our boy at all, lemme tell you.......

i feel like he'd be a bit surprised? to come across such a quiet person. you know, not much experience with humans, being surrounded by loud sounds all the time, his fellow autobots always finding a way to talk back to him, scold him or just say random (very important, just not to him) stuff in general..... and noah talks a lot, too. he never shuts up.

he'd definitely observe you a lot, taking mental notes on your behaviour around people, on your responses to his words and everything

he'd find you interesting (always pictured him as the type of robot to perceive humans as wild animals in their natural habitat lmao)

you're reserved, introverted and he is absolutely mesmerised by the fact that you're so different than anyone he's come across before

i do feel like at first he'd either beg you to go and do stupid shit with him cuz that's just how he is, or trap you inside him and take you in a joy ride despite your protests

(he means well, he just wants to make sure you are having fun but by his definition lol)

but he'd gradually begin noticing how little to no interest you had for his type of time well spent. he wouldn't be disappointed per se, maybe just slightly..... hurt? probably thinking that you didn't want to spend time with him, that you thought he was too much and all.....

but he is hella wrong. and as soon as he realises you are just an exact opposite of him, not that you dislike his bubbly personality and cannot stand to be around him, he felt at least relieved

matter of time he'd start catching feelings. the fact that you are so peaceful, allowing him to just talk your ear off was much, much appreciated

he'd definitely try to spend as much time with you as possible, sometimes forgetting that you need some time alone

he'd literally agree to just sitting in silence with you if that's what you want, even though he always has at least three thousand thoughts that threaten to escape his mouth when the room's too quiet in his opinion

he wouldn't try to change you, the thought not even crossing his mind, not even once

he would understand your personality which was so different than his but that would be the reason he falls for you so hard, damn

i so so so see him with an introverted partner tbh

walk him like a dog energy. don't ask me.

if you are ever insecure about the fact that you're not a big fan of extreme shit like him and you think you disappoint him when you say no to his wild offers, he'd immediately reassure you that it's totally okay and that he won't push you to do anything you don't want to

"but i'll be there if you change your mind ;)"

(i kept messing up the tenses fsr tell me if thats too chaotic cuz lmao)

#mirage x reader #mirage x you #mirage rotb #mirage x my pussy #mirage #mirage transformers #transformers rotb #transformers #rotb #mirage angst

258 notes · View notes

marsbar17 · 3 months

Note

Omggg people write for Mirage???

Idek what to request I just have this huge mirage brainrot rn and I need him😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I've gotchu man, honestly Mirage doesn't get the love he deserves so I'm here to deliver 🫡

Also I might relate to him just a tad bit more than a healthy amount but shhhhh

~Mirage x Reader Headcannons~

CONTAINS: NFSW further down

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

《SFW》

• A lot of people see Mirage as a self-centered partner who always puts his own reputation and image above a relationship, but honestly this guy just wants and needs attention

• He'd be the most loving, caring boyfriend you've ever had because he gains his happiness from your happiness

• He's the type of person who constantly wants to be physically touching you, he puts his head in your lap when you're relaxing, holds your hand when you're walking, and always has to be holding you when you go to sleep

• He love love loves it when people play with his hair, he'll pretend to be upset when you mess up his "perfect curls" but he doesn't really care about it

• He is always like on the verge of tears when he has to kill you in the games, he avoids you like the plague. He can't stand seeing someone he loves so dearly be killed, especially by his own hand, even though he knows it isn't real and you're still alive

• He's protective, but not in a "You can't have contact with ANY other men" way, he just doesn't want you being hurt by anyone

• If you come up to him while he's sitting, tilt his head up, and kiss his forehead he will just melt

• Compare him in any way to a puppy and he will also melt

• Dates with him are dinners at fancy restaurants, walks on pretty trails or along beaches, ice cream from cute diners, and just cuddling while watching sad cheesy romance movies

• He loves it when you just sit at the bar while he's working in the Paradise Lounge, chatting with him while he serves customers, you don't even have to buy anything he just loves having you there

• He calls you every pet name in the book, but his favorites are baby, love, darling, and hun

• His love languages are definitely physical affection and quality time

• GIVE THIS MAN AFFECTION, HE NEEDS IT

《NSFW》

• Mirage is a switch, for sure, you can't tell me this man doesn't wanna get pegged, but he also likes giving you the same pleasure

• Always makes sure to give as much as he gets, he also tries to make sure you always cum first before he gets to

• He's submissive, he whines, he whimpers, he begs, he cries, he's so pathetic dhdhjska but we love that

• He doesn't hate using toys for pleasure, it just embarrasses him so he doesn't usually bring it up, he probably will melt if you bring it up tho

• He looooovvveessss orgasm denial, edge him and tell him he can't cum yet, use cock rings, make him cry, make him beg, BREAK HIM

• He also likes overstimulation and understimulation, maybe he just likes sensory shit, blindfold him and watch him shiver at the lightest touches

• In terms of giving you attention, he just loves worshipping you and doing anything you want, he's not good with expressing things through words, so he just hopes you understand through all the worship and submission that he loves you more than anything

• He takes the time to kiss and feel your body before pleasing you, he wants to make sure you know he doesn't want to just use you for his own pleasure and he want YOU to feel good

• Favorite positions are riding and missionary, he likes eye contact, he likes being able to see your reactions

• But also he can't escape the fascination in watching your ass jiggle as he fucks you from behind hfhfndjsidh

• He calls you baby, sir/ma'am, and if you're feminine then mommy 🤭

• He likes being called darling, dear, baby, and pup or puppy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for the request! I hope you like it!

Remember that liking and reblogging my posts really helps me as a creator and only takes like 20 seconds. Requests are always open and getting prompts helps me get the motivation to write.

I hope all of you have a good day!

#apex legends #apex headcanons #apex mirage #mirage apex legends #apex legends mirage #mirage #elliot witt #writing #apex fanfic #apex nsft #nsft #mirage nsft #mirage x reader #mirage headcannons

38 notes · View notes

wysteria-clad · 2 years

Text

Wintery kisses.

paring: Jake Lockley x fem! reader (established relationship with the moon boys)

genre: fluffiest shit you've ever read

a/n: literally wrote this instead of sleeping rn

-------

There was one rule you were hell bent on not bulging a bit; your boyfriends were not allowed to leave the house without kissing you no matter what.

And when Jake left the apartment without kissing you, that's when it all started.

It was an early, winter morning. Snowflakes were settling down on the Earth gently and softly, coating the pavement and the road with pristine white magic, the lamps by the pavement stood tall and proud, their heads glowing with soft, warm light.

The moment you rolled off to see the empty bed and no sign of—your papi, ahem, Jake, you let out a sound that was a mix of half whine and half groan. Where was he? Did he really leave without kissing you?

This cannot happen.

And so you sprinted down in your sleeping attire as fast as can—a comfy t-shirt, and soft cotton pants, still half asleep, with only your socks on.

"Jake!"

Jake had already started his cab, but he stopped when he saw you sprinting towards him, well, trying to anyway.

"Princesa, what are you doing out here?!" he stepped out the car. He couldn't stand to see you shivering one second. He immediately wrapped his jacket around you. And cursed a whole lot in Spanish. "Y/n/n, are you crazy? You'd get sick!"

"You didn't kiss me."

His face and the tone of his voice instantly changed. A hearty chuckle left his lips. "You were sleeping, princesa"

"I don't care"

Your 'I just woke up annoyed, don't give me shit' glare and the frown on your lips was absolutely cute to your man.

With a wide smile still on his face, he rubbed your arms, then cupped your face softly and planted a kiss on your forehead that lingered for few more seconds longer than the usual quick peck on your head.

"I love you," satisfied now, you wrapped your arms around his torso, a slow smile making it's way on your face, "so much" you nuzzled your face further into feel his warmth.

"Te amo, princesa," he bent down slightly to kiss the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you. He pulled away after few moments, "Now go back to bed, mi amor. It's early and you stayed up late working"

It wasn't really your fault when your boss shoved few extra paper work to you.

You groaned. "It's cold without you," you whined.

"I'll make upto to you, I promise. Now, get back inside, my little snow queen, you are not even wearing warm clothes."

His concern was endearing. "You'd take care of me if i get sick" you joked playfully.

"Don't even joke about it." He can't even bear to see you sick because of the common cold. "Por favor, princesa..."

"Alright, alright" with a grin, you kissed his lips and returned his jacket. Waving him goodbye, you went back inside to carry out your day.

What a lovely day it was.

--------

Taglist:

@twwcs @friendlyneighbourhood-parker @fayes-fics @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @devilish-mirage @syrma-sensei @gaymistakeboi @scarabgrant @mintpurplemnm @kittiesluvyou @luke-o-lophus @nana1000night @this-is-me19 @thatdummy-girl @vinsevena @hot-mess-express1 @hotbisexualmess @fandxmslxt69 @beaxtrice @ninebluehearts @moonknightwifey @i-still-dont-like-your-face @toracainz @damnzelsoul @bitchyglitterfox

#wystie-verse #jake lockley fluff #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley x reader #moon knight fluff #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine #moon knight

552 notes · View notes

cayenneexe · 11 months

Text

The Ultimate Team-Up (reverse!AU)

Miguel Davidson, also known as Mirage, tries to steal rare 1994 Dodge Viper for money, unaware that it's a young Autobot in disguise with a protective green Dodge Challenger as a brother.

A Transformers Reverse AU of Noah meeting Mirage and the Autobots in Rise of the Beasts then joining forces to get the Transwarp key

Ao3 Fic Sneak Peek Below

Miguel Davidson remembers what the world looked like before it all went to shit. He remembers living in a beautiful home under blue skies and luscious green grass with smiling parents.

But that was when he was barely out of college.

Smog and grime fill the atmosphere and the smiles on his parents’ face are lifeless and covered in blood. Manipulated and brainwashed civilians walk the streets cheering the names of Megatron and his Decepticon task force with UniCorp’s face and logo painted on every flat surface on Earth.

For a while, Miguel felt alone in this dystopian world, just messing with officials and stealing cars and technology left and right when. He couldn’t leave all the credit to him, much thanks to his charisma and maybe a bit of help from his hologram tech. At least he's putting his optical engineering degree to some use.

They call him the Mirage, the illusionist thief. Kind of flattering.

Mirage.

Kind of dumb but it fits.

Luckily for him, he’s not the only one with a dumb nickname.

Benjamin O’Brien, or Bumblebee the young speed demon insists Mirage to call him, was the first friend he made while wandering the 1984-remake environment. They met during a protest and they found each other as roommates when they were hiding.

Months later, they found each other as teammates when the scout convinced his leader, Orion Cullen or Optimus, to let the thief join their rebellion.

Bee doesn’t talk much, both literally and figuratively. Mirage knows a little bit about him.

He’s a few months younger than him, likes 80’s music, hates the Smiths but listens to them 24/7, dreamed of being a race car driver since he was little, and is a scout for the Freedom Racers, followed by stories of raids he led with the yellow Camaro he built from scratch in the racing pits of Optimus’ speedway.

Bee is also mute.

After a year living and working together, Bee told Mirage the story of losing his voice in a riot a few years back. Decepticon member Blaze Sobolov, nicknamed Blitzwing, shot him in the throat, getting multiple pieces of metal lodged in his vocal cords. From that day on, Bee now speaks through a built-in radio and soundboard in his smartwatch with the occasional sign language.

It didn’t bother him before but as time went by, his throat started to get infected, swollen and red. The team feared the worst if left untreated but they’re not in the position to go to the hospital and get help, afraid of getting caught by the Decepticons.

Mirage isn’t willing to wait for Bee’s throat to fully close up and goes out to do what he does best; Steal.

He got a tip that someone is willing to give loads of cash in exchange for luxury cars, specifically ones hiding in UniCorp parking lots. That money will allow Mirage to buy the materials he needs to build a magnet that could keep the metal pieces away from Bee’s throat and temporarily save him. It's only until the revolution is over and they can go to a real doctor.

Sneaking in was the easiest part. A few holograms here and there and he was within seconds. He wandered the parking lot holding a photo of the targeted car, careful to not make noises in the cramped concrete building. Luckily for him, it didn’t take too long for him to find it.

Two cars lay in front of him in the corner of the first floor.

One is a forest green 1970 Dodge Challenger, looking slightly beat up with scratches near the bottom of the metal and the bumpers.

Parked right next to it is a bright orange 1994 Dodge Viper RT/10. It shined as a distinct opposite of the old Challenger. The paint is shined and polished with a brightness that burns his eyes and the metal looks so smooth as if it was manufactured straight out of the factory.

“Goddamn!” He exclaims almost jumping in excitement. Getting this money will be easier than he thought.

“Do you hear that?”

“Shit.” Mirage quickly covers his mouth, realizing the echo from his excitement. Footsteps and mumbles of soldiers made Mirage flinch, quickly crouching down to hide behind the Viper.

The thief muffles his excitement, giddily shuffling towards the orange Viper, brushing his hands over the clean paint, a smile leaking onto his face. He does smell some rust near the undercarriage as he crouches. Mirage worries for a moment that it might affect the price but waves it off. Some air fresheners and a bit of charm could cover it up.

Ignoring the rust, this car alone would be enough to pay for Bee’s magnet five times over. In addition with the Challenger, which with a bit of paint and buffers, doesn’t look too banged up-

“We’ll check it out later.”

Oh well, one will do.

Mirage quickly got to work. He stands up next to the driver’s seat, pulls out a wire from his bag and snuck it into the lock, pulling it to hear the click of the lock.

“Mirage is in.” The blue-haired rebel whispers, excited to get his ticket to extra cash out of the concrete parking lot. Unfortunately for him, it was quickly short lived when the lock went back down.

CLICK!

For a moment, Mirage was confused but quickly brushed it off to try again.

Then he tries again. And again. And again.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

“You’re a real piece of shit.” Mirage wants to laugh. It’s as if the car is making fun of him, like it’s playing a game that only it knows the rules. Or maybe it just doesn't want Mirage to get inside.

“That’s how you want to play then.” Mirage grumbles, trying to ignore the fact that he’s scolding a car like a naughty child, before pulling on the wire again to get the lock loose. Before the car could lock it back in, Mirage pulls on the door handle to open.

“Ah ha! Gotcha!”

The thief immediately hops into the navy blue and black leather interior, bouncing on the seat and drumming his palms on the steering wheel. He sits back and lets himself breathe, taking in the mix of bitter iron and new car smell and feeling the plastic of the dashboard and radio.

“Now this is what we call a car.” He mumbles before bending down to hotwire the car, pulling out a piece of the dashboard under the steering wheel to reveal multiple wires hanging out but burnt red and black dust fall from the compartment making Mirage cough. There’s even rust inside? Jeez, who owned this thing? Some car care.

Small sparks light up the dark car as he tries to start up the car with routine ease. The car starts to rumble a bit, waking from the sparks. For a moment though, he sits back up with a smirk to look back at the black and green Challenger, “Don’t get jealous, baby. I’m coming back for you later.”

“NYPD! Come out of the vehicle with your hands up!”

Shit.

Mirage turns towards the window and outside a couple feet away from the car are two police officers, aiming their guns at him with stoic expressions. The thief doesn’t even flinch, rolling his eyes and his cocky smirk returning his face. He rolls down the window and leans his head out the door.

“Hello officers. How may I help you?” Mirage asks with a natural suave, hoping the two will be distracted enough for his two hands to finish hotwiring the car.

The police don’t waiver from his charisma but are confused at his unshaken confidence. “The hell? We said to come out of the car! Or we will engage!”

Mirage laughs but he fumbles the wires a bit faster, “Sounds like the night shift is getting to you. How about we relax, go out for donuts or somethin’?”

One of the officers leaned over to the other, guns still pointing at the thief, “Sir, that’s Mirage. He’s one of the rebel racers. The one with the holograms.”

Mirage’s smirk grows into a big grin, “I see my reputation precedes me. Want an autograph or-”

The car’s radio buzzes to life, interrupting Mirage’s retort. His smile shrinks into a worried stare. The dials spin frantically between different stations before buzzing in white noise. If Mirage listens close enough, he can hear a voice.

“Kris! Bzzt! Kris! Bzzt! Can you hear me?” An urgent voice filters through the static, almost too buzzed for Mirage to translate but enough for him to slightly recognize a few words.

“The hell?”

“Are you listening to me?!” Mirage’s head shot up from the radio to the officers, looking more annoyed than before and slowly creeping up towards the car. “Get out of that car or we will shoot!”

“Screw this. I’ll get you pretty boys later.” The white noise continues to buzz in the back and Mirage, not willing to push any more buttons, rushes to open the door. He grabs the door handle and pushes to open but the sudden noise of the lock startles the thief, even more when the door refuses to open. “What the hell?”

“Kris. Bzzt! Please calm down. Bzzt! Just unlock the doors.”

“Who’s Kris?” Mirage yells amidst his confusion.

“Get out of the car!” The officers are barely five feet away from the car door and his grip on the handgun grows tighter on the trigger.

“I can’t!” Mirage yells through the glass, banging on the window and kicking the frame, "It won't open!"

“You have three seconds to get out of the car!” One of the officer’s threatened as the safety of the gun clicking.

His original confidence has all but faded away, staring at the two uniformed men with panicked eyes. He’s not going to get caught now. He punches the doors and digs his heels into the plastic interior hoping to loosen the door but the car refuses to budge. It even seemed to flinch at every hit.

“Stop kicking me!” A child’s voice drips out from the car but oddly enough, not from the radio. “Noah! I can’t… I can't breathe!”

Was that a kid?

“Three!”

The green Challenger comes to life as well. The angry-sounding roars of a waking engine thundering so loudly that it made the concrete of the parking lot shake. Mirage and the police officers jump at the mere sound of it. The headlights flash on and the car inches towards the orange Viper ever so slightly.

“Kris, stay with me.” The voice returned, with an accent Mirage recognizes to be Puerto Rican, muffled by distance and no longer coming from the radio but from the other car. The urgency didn’t leave but it sounds gentle, comforting to the ear as the child’s voice starts to hyperventilate. “Please calm down. Cadimus Prime said to stay hidden.” Cadimus Prime?

“They have guns!” The child’s voice cries with a desperate voice that makes Mirage’s heart crack, his kicks faltering at his begs.

“Two!”

“Kritical, listen to me.” The hispanic voice, edging from urgent gentleness to growing fear, and softly grumbling to reassure the other car.

The orange Viper doesn't respond. The wheels begin to squeal and spin so fast that black rubber stained the stone floor like the car was having some kind of panic attack.

“Three!”

Mirage stops kicking the car, his head spins towards the police and hands pressed against the window in surrender. “Don’t shoot!”

BANG! BANG!

#transformers rise of the beasts #transformers rotb #transformers #rotb mirage #mirage rotb #noah diaz #kris diaz #reverse au #reverse roles au #freedom racers au #fanfic #fanfiction #read on ao3 #cross posted on ao3

111 notes · View notes

justagirlfr · 1 month

Text

I Look to You and I See Nothing

Noah Diaz x fem!reader (angst)

summary: Noah Diaz is a traitor!! But he’s doing it because he loves you.

a/n: I like this concept

—

"Tomorrow's a new day. We'll get the key and bring it back to who it belongs to. Everything will be okay." Noah says this all to you, one arm wrapped around your middle and hugging you close.

You're both resting under the covers of his bed. His room is small, littered with different mechanical pieces and electrical equipment. It's dark- there's no light except for the glow of the moon drifting through the window across from the door at the foot of the bed. You turn off your phone, reaching to your left to put it on Noah's desk.

Something tugs at you as you try to fall asleep cuddled next to him. Something off about what he said. You think about it again: "'We'll get the key and bring it back to who it belongs to.'" But didn't it belong to the Autobots? Weren't they the ones who deserved it? After all, they were your friends. They had saved you on countless occasions, especially Mirage, your favorite of them all.

So why didn't he just say that the two of you would get the key, and give it to Optimus or someone?

A feeling of nausea washed over you. Your stomach started to turn. Now that you think about it, Noah has been gone a lot lately. Not just because he needed to run errands or anything. I mean, even in Peru, you noticed him sneaking off to "use the bathroom" or to "get more firewood." But did it really take hours to do stuff like that?

When you had confronted him about it, he had just shrugged it off and told you to mind your own business. Maybe it was the way he always embraced you in the warmest of hugs, or gave you the most enchanting kisses when you saw each other again.

The more you analyzed the odd moments throughout the last few days, the more you felt that off feeling in your gut grow. Things weren't adding up. Noah had been so opposed to giving the key back to the Autobots, but suddenly had a change of heart. You had thought that perhaps your convincing finally worked, but now you weren't so sure.

You reached for your phone again, only for it to drop in between the desk and bed. Noah stirred slightly, but from what you could tell, he was sound asleep. You gently removed his arm from around you and went to grab your phone.

Sticking your hand in the crack, you could feel your phone. Just as you grasped the edges, you felt something sharp scratch you. You wanted to yell out in pain but refrained from doing so in case it woke up your boyfriend.

You reached for whatever it was that had hurt you so badly, only to find… a terrorcon badge?

Turning it over, you found that there was a small lit box with a dim glowing light. Was that… a locator?

Why the fuck did Noah have a terrorcon emblem? And why did it look like it was… active?

You felt like throwing up. The nasty gut feeling that was culminating in your stomach clawed at your throat and you moved as swiftly and silently as possible to the door.

Running to the bathroom, you threw up into the toilet just in time for it to not make a mess.

Holy shit. Noah is working with the Terrorcons??

"Honey?" Fuck, that was Noah's voice. "Are you alright?"

Another wave of nausea hits you at the question, and you vomit again.

"Woah-" Noah quickly pulls your hair out of the way. You can't tell him that it only makes you more sick.

After another minute of staring into the toilet bowl, you begin to get up shakily.

"Hey, take it easy-" Noah grabs your arm to support you and you flinch. He notices immediately. "Baby?"

You shake your head dismissively. "I need some water." You try to make it to the kitchen on your own, stealing yourself away from your boyfriend, but after a few steps your knees buckle and you find yourself sliding against one of the walls of the hallway. You're happy that Kris and Noah's mom are away- you're sure the noise would have woken them up by now. And with them gone, you can attempt to get a handle of this mess without potentially endangering them.

The thought makes you shiver. You couldn't believe you were now considering Noah a threat.

To your inner disgust, Noah helps you up and half-carries half-walks you to the fridge to get some water.

He grabs a glass from a cupboard, and you take the chance to slip close to the drawer that holds all of the kitchen knives. You slowly open the drawer and grab one.

When Noah turns around holding the cut, he immediately sees the knife held shakily in front of you by your dominant hand.

His heart drops immediately, and he looks at you regretfully and takes slow steps toward you. "Baby, what-"

"Stay away from me," you grit out, your other hand clutching at your stomach. "Don't touch me!"

Noah looks the most hurt you've ever seen him. "What are you doing?"

"Tell me why you have a Terrorcon emblem with a tracker on the back of it," you say. Tears well up in your eyes and you resist the urge to run to him and sob against his chest. You want so badly to be comforted by him, for Noah to tell you that everything will be okay, to tell you this is some sort of misunderstanding. "Why are you always leaving, Noah?"

It's Noah's turn to tear up now. "Baby, I don't know what you're-"

"STOP IT!" You scream. "STOP TELLING ME LIES," you're yelling at him through the cascade of tears falling from your eyes. "I TRUSTED YOU, NOAH-" your voice breaks. "I thought- I thought you-" you take a breath to steady yourself. "Was this all a joke to you?" It's the most honest you've been with him tonight. After asking, you feel like you've laid yourself bare in front of him.

"It wasn't- I never meant to hurt you," he says, a single tear making its way down his freckled cheek. "I can explain- please just put the knife down, baby-"

"Don't call me that," you tremble. "Just stop it."

He takes a step back. "I don't want to hurt you. I love you, I love you so much." The tears multiply across his face. "I just- I wanted to keep you and Kris and Ma safe- and the Terrorcons already have one half of the key-" Some sobs break loose and in the moonlight you can see fragments of who you thought he was washing away as he continues. "They said if I helped them, they would make a place for us on Unicron, for all of us to live there safely. They said they would keep you safe! That's all I wanted, please, you have to believe me." He's looking at you pleadingly, begging for you to understand. But you can't.

You take a shaky breath. "But the Autobots are our friends, Noah."

He grimaces. "I know, but Optimus only cares about himself. You know this, I know you do. You've seen him!"

"He's just doing what he thinks is right," you say. "It's not about being selfish, it's about taking care of your family," you look him dead in the eye. "Something you wouldn't understand."

A pang of guilt stabs Noah in the chest. "I did this for you," he says. "It was all for-"

"Does hurting me make you feel good or something?"

It's silent for a moment, and Noah says, "If it's what I have to do to make sure you're safe." Out of nowhere, he pulls out a gun and points it at you. "I'm sorry," he's crying again, but taking steps close to you.

"NOAH- STAY BACK!" It's too late, he lunges at you and you don't have the strength to use the knife in your hand. He grabs the knife out of your hands and tosses it behind him. You fall back onto the floor, hitting your head harshly on the ground of the kitchen. You start to see stars, and the thought of a concussion crosses your mind. Noah is on you in seconds, pinning your arms and sitting on top of you.

"I'm so sorry," he says. "I need to keep you safe." He leans down close to your face, and you're too disoriented from the fall to protest. His lips brush against your cheek in a swift kiss, and he leans his forehead against yours for a bit before hitting you sharply across the head with the butt of his gun.

pt. 2 coming soon!

#tf rotb #transformers #x reader #noah diaz #noah diaz x reader #rotb mirage #transformers rotb #angst #idk how to tag this #anthony ramos #Anthony Ramos x reader

29 notes · View notes

sorchathered · 3 months

Text

Heard it through the grapevine

A/N- SNB Chapter 8 is coming on Wednesday, but to tie you all over here is a one shot of what’s been going on with Bradley in the aftermath of Mirage’s pregnancy announcement. Thank you guys for sticking with me on this journey!

Pairing- Bradley Bradshaw x OC (Mirage/Erin Riley)

Warnings- language, drinking, Bradshit being an idiot

Summary- Bradley is hungover as hell the morning after Mav’s wedding, what the did he get himself into overnight?

————————————————————————-

Bradley had fucked his social life up to the highest degree in the past 6 months but even he had to admit this shit took the cake.

He’d gotten completely trashed last night, after months of trying to get sober, because his biggest insecurity played out right before his eyes. He’d be an idiot to deny he’d never been worried about Jake getting in the middle of his relationship over the past few years, the man had an ego the size of his home state and he wasn’t bad to look at either. But you had always insisted it was platonic, never given him a single reason to doubt you, yet it somehow never stopped the jealousy that bloomed in him when he saw the two of you together. It was stupid really, he’d been the one to cheat on you in the end and burn everything he’d thought he wanted to the ground, but watching your former fiancée make out with the guy he’d always worried about and then get whisked away to no doubt fuck each others brains out stung a little. So he did what he knew best, drown himself in bourbon and promptly pass out at home, or at least that’s what he thought had happened.

He woke up the next morning feeling worse than he had after that rager in his frat house right before graduation, every step had him convinced he was going to throw up everywhere but his tiny french bulldog was a force of nature and she was insistent that they go outside. He was half dressed in his suit from the night before, no idea where his phone could be but that was a worry for future Bradley, right now he needed aspirin and coffee. Still trying to piece together what had happened in the aftermath, it looked as though he’d made quick work of destroying the leftover pizza and most of the lasagna he’d made earlier in the week, clearly couldn’t be bothered to close the fridge as the damn thing was wide open when he entered the room. The last of his expensive bourbon was gone, and it looked like he was out of beer as well. What a mess. As he set about to clean things up he heard his doorbell go off, then someone beating on his front door, what the hell could possibly be this important on a Sunday morning? He grumbled all the way to the entryway, flinging it open to find his best friend Natasha Trace looking even more pissed off than normal, clearly he’d fucked something up judging by the rage on her features.

“I’ve been calling you for HOURS! What did you do just fall off the face of the damn planet?!” She said as she elbowed her way into his living room, he didn’t have the energy for this he was sure but there was no point in stopping her now.

“I was asleep, and honestly I don’t know where the hell my phone went, I’m hungover as fuck right now Nat so can we just skip to the part where you tell me what I did wrong and yell at me?”

She rounded on him and he staggered back, a little nervous until he saw the look of pity across her face. “Bradley we need to find your phone, but first I need to show you something.”

He was going to pass out, he was sure of it. As she scrolled through her instagram to the profile of the girl he definitely shouldn’t still be sleeping with he was almost hopeful that she’d decided to move on from him and posted a new boyfriend, but he knew he couldn’t be that lucky and after all she had just been at his house earlier in the week, if she was seeing someone else she would’ve told him. Right?

What he most certainly didn’t expect was to come across a set of photos, pictures the two of them had taken and never posted because it didn’t seem right, and at the end a picture of a onesie and a positive pregnancy test. Oh he was definitely going to be sick.

Nat had shoved him into the bathroom to shower while she made a pot of coffee and Bradley was frozen in place as he watched the bathroom steam up. How the hell had he let this happen? Why wouldn’t she have said something to him before posting about it? He picked up his phone and looked at the photos again, he did like Mirage despite the circumstances that had started their entanglement, she was funny and very pretty, impulsive yes but he wouldn’t have thought she’d do this to him. He opened his texts to message her, they needed to sit down and discuss this in person, but as he opened them he realized just how drunk he’d been last night. There in the messages were all the answers he wanted, she had in fact told him first and he had told her to go for it about posting the announcement. He was such an idiot, how did he let himself get this way? He needed to piece together the rest of his night and fast, so he shot her a quick message to come over and jumped in the shower. He didn’t know how to fix this, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it this time.

Nat was furious with him, she’d found out through Stormy about everything leading up to their breakup and now finding out that he’d somehow green lit this pregnancy announcement while black out drunk had her fuming. “Do I need to pack you up and send you to a rehab facility Rooster?! What the hell has been going through your head lately?” She was shaking her head between death glares, in his entire navy career he’d always had Nat, since they met in training as young kids, and she’d never been angrier than she was right now. “I know Nat, I know I fucked it all up, but I can’t change it now. All I can do is sit down with Mirage and see how to go forward with this, I-I’m going to be a dad…Holy shit how the hell am I supposed to do this? What if I fuck this kid up? What if I-“ she puts her hand up to silence him, he’s spiraling now and that’s not going to help anyone.

“We are going to work this out ok? Just take a breath, we also need to find you a better therapist because this guy is obviously not teaching you anything beneficial.” She wasn’t wrong, the guy clearly just phoned it in and received his paycheck, Bradley had been going through the motions but not making any real progress. It was times like these he longed to have his parents around, maybe then everything wouldn’t have gotten so out of control.

Within the hour Mirage was at his door, Bradley let her in with a small smile and gestured for her to sit down, but when she saw Natasha she wavered; looking back at Bradley like a deer in headlights. “Relax Erin, I’m not here to whack you, I’m just moral support.” She says with an eye roll, and the girl, albeit irritated, finds a seat on the couch. “So I take it from your texts you drank a little too much last night, I had a feeling you’d be upset after the wedding but I didn’t think you’d forget our conversation entirely” she was frustrated, he knew she would be, especially considering how important that conversation was. “Look, Erin I know I keep fucking it up. I’m a mess, I never should have dragged you into it in the first place but here we are. I’m going to try at this, and you give me all the hell you need to because I really do want to make this work. If you want us to be a real family we can work at it, or if you just want me to co-parent I’ll respect your choices, but no matter what got us here I’m not going to keep letting you down.” He knew he didn’t have a right to promise anything, and he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t make a mistake again, but he knew what life was like without a dad, and he couldn’t let that happen to his child. His child. He was going to be a father.

——————————————————————

Before he knew it 6 months had passed, He and Erin had been going to couples therapy on top of seeing a new therapist for himself and Bradley could say with confidence he’d been sober for all of it. He wasn’t going to the bar like he used to, instead choosing to come home in the evenings to binge tv and cook dinner with his girlfriend. They had found out just last week that they were having a little boy, Nicholas Bradshaw jr. and truly Bradley couldn’t believe how well things had been going.

He’d been transferred to the Golden Warriors, still working out of North Island but no longer actively working with the Daggers, and while initially it had hurt he knew it had been for the best. His relationship with Jake had boiled over into his work life and he agreed that it was best that they work apart. Life was going well, which usually meant the other shoe was about to drop but he was feeling pretty confident. Until one fateful evening when he received a call after work from a distraught Maverick, Stormy’s plane had gone down over the Atlantic and she was in critical condition. Jake and Admiral Simpson were heading to Walter Reed in Maryland to meet her and they didn’t know when or if she’d wake up. He didn’t know what he could possibly do to help, and without realizing he had already dialed the number of his old wingman. No answer, which he expected but he left a voicemail of support nonetheless. Whatever happened now all he could do was pray that the kindest girl he’d ever met would be ok.

————————————————————————

Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @bobgasm @attapullman @roosterforme @floydsglasses @shanimallina87 @jessicab1991 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @djs8891 @mrsevans90 @pinkdaisies9285 @nouis-bum @86laura11 @angelbabyyy99 @dizzybee03 @mygyn @jostan456 @dempy @its-the-pilot @kmc1989

#sacred new beginnings #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun rooster #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick #jake seresin

49 notes · View notes