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theyve ruined my life. i cant keep going like this

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Guys should i write fanfics again 💔 i finally dont have writers block but i dont write for tlou or spiderverse anymore, i write for mha

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Boku no Hero Academia || Aizawa Shouta Episode 142

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Well-

well-

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Catch me manspreading in the electric chair

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Just reposting this so i can find it later, in my cod phase

I don’t know who hasn’t read this fanfiction. I don’t care who has. Read it.

It has been my hyper fixation since the author started writing it.

This (along with Ophelia’s works) is the best piece of fan fiction I’ve ever read. And, it’s poly!141. Girls, gays, and theys (and ig men too) you better fucking get to it.

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if i have to experience another latino man in his 30s losing a daughter who plays soccer, i will lose my mind.

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Sneak peak to something im writing

~~~

He grins as she speaks, his lips close to her ear. His breath whispers against her flesh as he leans down to kiss her neck.

"Say it again," he says, his voice low and smoky.

"Say it louder this time, Mutt," he adds, his voice cracking with passion. "Tell me that you want me."

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Miguel O’hara x reader|| roomates (pt 1??)

Authors note: wrote this after an experience i had with an ai bot- so yeah its a little stupid but i find it funny

No use of y/n ; you dont know that he is spiderman ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ; fem written in mind but ig it could be whoever? (I think?); NOT proofread.

Mdni

———————-

Miguel o’hara. He is Your roomate and one hell of a man. You guys had been living together for about two years now after you couldnt fully afford an appartment on your own and decided to share one with somebody. And god was it interesting

You were sitting on your bed, laptop open and reading, when Miguel walks to your room and leans on your doorframe. Oh no, not just against your doorframe, but against it, with only shorts on, and wet hair.

“Hey, can I ask you a favor?” He says scratching the back of his head, running his hands through his damp hair.

You look up at him and right back down to your screen to avoid eye-contact. Its like he does this on purpous, its like he sees your face, sees the blush. You almost want to ignore him so a stutter wouldnt fall from your mouth, but you can just ignore him.

“Uhm- yeah, what can i do?” You ask back still wildly embarassed. Its a common occurrence, so you arent sure why it effects you so much.

Wait- wait no. You know exactly why. Its because you are head over heels with him.

Sure you have some other celebrity crushes but him? He beats all of them.

“Could i have one of my shirts back, i let you borrow some and i need to do laundry today-“ he responds.

Oh. Was that it?

“Uh yeah let me get you one really quick” you say standing up and walking to your closet. Before you can grab a shirt for him he makes his way over to your bed and sits down.

“What were you watching?” He asks referencing your laptop as he picks it up.

Okay its time to panic. The thing you were reading? Spiderman fanfiction. He was one of your celebrity crushes and you couldnt let Miguel know, he would tease you for the rest of your life, and not only did you read that stuff? You wrote it.

You drop the shirt and run back reaching fir the lap top, climbing on top of him as he pulls it away from you further. Panicked you reach for it as far as you can, going as far as clawing at him to get it back.

“Whoah whoah whats in here that i cant see?” He teases

“Miguel please dont! Thats uh- just a book!” You reply back still fighting to get that laptop back.

“Well with how you are reacting it isnt just some book hmm?” He laughs back. You can see his eyes scanning the digital characters, word by word his face grows redder. You still attempt to reach for it but it was just too late.

“Tsk- spiderman huh? You like him?” He says smirking. He had to be teasing you right? You swear normally he would have taken a picture of it and show it to you every now and again in the future to embarass you. But he is being so nonchalant.

“D-dont read farther-!“ you warn him. You recognize the page number, as this was one of your works, and ahead was some of the most mind corrupting media you have ever produced.

You see his eyes scan the pages as you lie helpless, still sitting on his lap, Avoiding eye contact with the brown-haired male. He chuckles as his face grows a deeper red. As he reads on the story seems a bit too familiar. The roomate of the ‘reader’ is actually spiderman, they fall in love and have fun. The roomate. Could it be him? Of course its him, you indulge in your deepest fantasies when you read and write.

“Wow- this is some good writing, too bad you dont have a spiderman roomate” he says winking at you. Wait- winking-

“H-huh?” You exclaim

“Oh come on, its obvious who this ‘tall, dark haired, spanish speaker roomate’ is” he says giving you a smirk. He leans in to where you are sitting on his lap and brushes his lips against yours.

“And i could help you re-create this book. Scene. By. Scene” he chuckles darkly.

Thats it- your brain dosnt work anynore. The way his voice darkened and he leaned in made you lose it. You leaned in to close the small soace between you- you finally kissed him. And he kissed back, hard. There was only one way that this could go any better, and that would be if he was spider man… but thats just wishful thinking. Plus. You had a long night ahead.

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[guns blazin’]

Pairing: Joel miller x reader (post-outbreak)

No use of (y/n)

Authors note: this is my first published fic. It will be multiple parts and way too slow tbh. If you wanna call it slow burn you totally can! It might be mature but for now its pg-13 (for obvious reasons)

Warnings: cursing, gunpoint, explosion, mentions of bruises and blood, probably ooc tbh. (More to come)

1k words

☆——————————————————————☆

Who knows how long it had been. You stopped keeping count after about 15 years of government lies and propaganda.

Every day was the same. Wake up, work, smuggle, and sleep. An endless draining routine. Thoughts of your hometown always plague your mind, the day of the outbreak still staining your memories.

Walking in downtown boston was never enjoyable, there were always the burning bodies of infected or fireflies, the stench piercing your nose. You would always let your mind wander on these walks, like the good old days, your family, your old frie-

“oh fuck!-“ you feel something catch your foot and fling you to the ground, looking back at the culprit, you saw that it was just a metal pipe that made you trip. Picking up your hands from the rough concrete you see that they are bloodied from the fall,at least it's not the worst that could have happened. After staring at your hands for a minute you stand up and realize what you were even doing in downtown Boston anyways, you were supposed to meet with another smuggler to grab some adderall for a recurring customer. You heard of this guy through your boss, Robert. He was known for smuggling opioids mostly, and being one hell of a jackass.

Making your way into an alley and down a few steps you knock on the alleyway basement door.

“Come in” his voice was gruff- from what you could tell behind the thick steel door. Opening it you see a taller man in a flannel leaning against a brick wall, his hair salt and pepper colored and- oh shit hese holding you at gunpoint…

“Got the cards?” He says sternly, unphased by your appearance. You on the other hand, who isn't used to being at the wrong end of a pistol, freeze up.

“Are y’ gonna speak or just stand there?”

You shake your head out of your trance, sweating as you go to pull the ration cards out of your bag.

“R-right sorry! Here you go, 10 ration cards for 30 days worth of adderall” you say shaking as you hold the cards out to him. He hands you the bag of pills and takes the cards from your hand, not faltering his aim at your head.

“T-thank you for doing business with me-“ you mutter nervously.

He laughs, almost mockingly.

“What, never had a gun pointed at yer head girl?”

He is a jackass.

“No i haven't- t-that doesn't matter, we did the deal and thats final” you say turning your back to the man, walking out.

Everything goes white.

Your ears are ringing. Lifting your head off the ground you see dust and blood. Your hearing clears up to hear… coughing?

“Damn fireflies-“ the voice of the now injured man reaches your ears. You peel yourself off the ground, realising that what knocked you out was another explosion from the fireflies. You feel your nose bleeding- or maybe there's a gash in your head. Not entirely sure. You stumble over to the man on the ground reaching out to help him up.

“Are you alright?” You hiss at the pounding pain that rattles your head. The man looks up at you and reluctantly takes your hand.

“M’ fine, quick, getcha gun out” he grunts. You fumble around before actually processing what he says.

“I- i dont have one.” You say staring at him, slight panic in your face.

“Christs sake- ok stay behind me.” He reaches out and grabs your jacket collar, pulling you behind a wall of rubble before dragging you out of the destruction site and into an alleyway a couple hundred feet away. Now that you were safe (well, as safe as you could be in this hellscape) you get a good look at him. Broken nose, bleeding from the forehead and arm, but overall not bad for being injured.

“Alright, here's what we’re gonna do. I'm gonna getcha back to my place and fix y’ up alright? But you need to be quiet when we sneak ‘round my route'' he looks at you, with a cold yet worried gaze. Maybe he isn't an asshole.

He grabs your wrist and sneaks you through hidden passageways, tunnels, past armed guards, and down more hidden backways. Reaching a taller building which you know to be one of the main apartment buildings provided by FEDRA.

“Y’know i dont think i caught your name” you ask staring at the man in astonishment. He looks back, you think you can see a smirk plaster his face but he turns away before you can confirm your suspicions.

“You’re bleedin from y’ damn head and you wanna know my name? Might wanna check y’ for a concussion.” He mocks. Nope. He is definitely a jackass. He walks you through a door to what you assume is his apartment and sits you in a chair, grabbing a first aid kit and fixing up your wound on your head.

“Why are you helping me?” You look at him quizzically. He turns to look at you and rolls his eyes, scoffing.

“Because you overpaid me for the damn meds, need you to trade me more often. Can't trade if you’re dead.”

“We also can't trade if i don't know your name” you tease back. He groans under his breath and starts to work on his own wounds.

“You’re a persistent one aren't ya? Its joel.”

You smile. Joel.

“Not gonna give me yours?” He asks, eyeing you in his peripheral.

You give him your name and wipe some blood from your hand to your clothes.

“Thank you for helping me- and for fixing me up- you don't meet generous people now”

Truth is you knew he wasn't , and he didn't have to be, you could tell there was something different about him. Something soft. Something kind.

“Right sorry, i'll get out of your hair” you say standing up heading to the door, you turn and smile, thanking him. You swear you could see his gaze soften a bit.

“I'll get Robert to set me up with you more often, he may be a shit guy but he has good taste in workers” Joel remarks. You wave and close the door, starting to walk back to your apartment.

Opening the door and dragging yourself into your apartment you look at your bruises and wounds in the mirror. You think, ‘damn, maybe I do need a gun.

Oh well, another excuse to meet with joel.