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muniimyg · 1 year

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kimi's comfort fics (2023)

note: these fics are pretty "old" since most of the writers are no longer active or the fics have been posted years ago.. BUT !!! some are recent with active writers so i would 100% recommend u check out their other works nd send them love !!! that being said, i did not link the stories but i did link the writers 🫡 this way u can check out their other works nd blog in general 💅🏼✨

nevertheless, they are all masterpieces that have heavily inspire my work nd personal life because i am delulu 24/7 <3 this list consists of my core comfort fics like... y’all don’t even fcking know how much i love them

‼️ for the most part, all of these fics imply mature content !!! minors dni ‼️

smau recs

@firebettercallnct

color of your shirt (kth)

cuffed (knj)

stay and cook (jjk)

stole your shirt (jjk)

went through your phone (jjk)

these fics were the ones that made me absolutely fall in love with smaus. smt abt the style nd way the plot seamlessly depict a beautiful and lighthearted aura... ugh, it jus gets me every mfking time </3

@kimnjss

be my baby (myg)

cyberslut (myg)

kinda hot (kth)

cherry pickers (jjk)

plot twist (knj)

i think kez is a mastermind nd i’ve always admired her constant updates nd organization! have u seen her taglist? BRUH i could never :’) these fics rlly made me feel BUTTERFLIES i don’t know how else to describe the way kez makes these works so fcking interesting every time

headcanons

@jungshookz

stuck with you (kth)

suit & tie (myg)

hellish (myg)

basketball!captain (myg)

baby, you can drive my car (myg)

beauty & the bookworm (knj)

these headcanons literally give the serotonin boost i need. they hit so mfking good nd the energy is jus 10/10

fic recs

series and drabbles by @noteguk

bad influence: collection (jjk)

any way you want (kth)

house rules (jhs)

for science (jhs)

let me tell u... these fics were a CULTURAL RESET. god bless them nd tHE WAY NALA IS BACK??? hello. i love u so much. thank u for creating such breath-taking stories with ur incredible writing... u’re insanely talented nd i look forward to more of ur work… like fuck,, i’m so shy rn 👉🏽👈🏽

series and drabbles by @yoonpobs

with you (ksj)

back-burner (myg)

ice skating and holding hands (myg)

cold (pjm)

i absolutely went ✨ I N S A N E ✨ for back-burner yoongi. i was literally taking an accounting class (which i failed nd i have never failed anything in my life) nd thursday aka back-burner update day would literally be my motivation to mfking LIVE. i love the underlying nostalgia in these works.. i literally don’t know who i would be without these fics (i’m downplaying how much i love them arghh)

series and drabbles by @1kook

skirt chasers (jjk)

netflix & chill (jjk)

dreamy (pjm)

absolute icons. literally so well written, it’s unforgettable !!!

series and drabbles by @h0neypjm

confident (jjk)

for practice (kth)

homie hopper till i die (pjm/kth)

these are the ones that... make me feel some type of way... like… 🦋⚡️❤️‍🔥 way… yk?

series by @floralseokjin

the devil wears armani (ksj)

crystallised saga (ksj)

please be naked (myg)

i think these fics stabbed me in the heart nd the wound never healed. that’s the best way i can put it... i love anything jordan writes but these... these are litereally the bane of my existance. crystallised has so much depth in it nd i honestly feel like i’m in the story with the characters.. i’ve never experienced desperation until i read the devil wears armani because wHAT THE FUCK... pbn is... yeah. let’s just stop here..... 😪

series by @btssmutgalore

nude (kth)

bicker (kth)

benefits (pjm)

🫶🏻 ok. we need to have a conversation about nude. NUDE HAS RUINED MY LIFE. yk why? because the same way it grasps my heart,, it breaks nd makes it new. literally. like mfker rlly said “whatever u say goes” bITCHJFKJSLS IM CRYING IN THE CLUBBBBBB 🫣

series by @personasintro

mutual help (jjk)

my tiny secret

i read mh while it was jus starting.. to see how much it progressed nd how many ppl read it now is mindblowing! my tiny secret was the first ever bts fanfic i ever read... so.... YESSSS

series by @gukslut

rattled (jjk)

oh my god. this has to be my ultimate comfort fic. i’ve never read something so original nd heartbreakingly beautiful. the gradual build nd the way each character experiences nd works thru their issues... chefs kiss... i read this fic at least once a month to remember what love feels like 🥹👊🏽

drabbles by @jeonqkooks

just friends (jjk)

angel baby (jjk)

the moon, and all the stars (jjk)

this is how you fall in love (jjk)

i always see jen sharing her thoughts on my work... but bro... let me mfking tell u... her work speaks for itself. i’m so in love......

drabble by @jungkxook

let’s play: dirty (jjk)

THIS ONE IS SUCH A FUN READ. i need it injected into me tbfh. i always reread it when i’m feeling down

drabble by @angelgukks

pu$$y fairy (jjk)

can not be beat. mfking love this drabble fr

i also want to take the time to express my deepest love nd thank u to the writers who have left this platform. to the writers who have moved on nd left us with memories of their work; ur efforts nd storylines will remain in my heart forever <3

i esp loved a lover’s kiss by @hueseok .

#ask muni #🌱: kimi writes #bts social media au #bts fic #bts fake texts #bts fic rec #bts angst #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts smut #bts series

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sunflowersandsapphires · 7 months

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Renegade

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: A rough night lands Matt on your doorstep, bleeding and overstimulated. It’s your job to remind him of his strengths and bring him back from the brink of despair.

warnings: swearing, Matt’s depression, slight violence

a/n: This fic takes place in the Wake Up verse, but you do not need to have read all of that series for this one to make sense. @babygrlmurdock requested that I write a fic based on Taylor Swift’s Renegade so here is that! SO sorry for how long this took me, dear. I’ve had it written for over a month but I was waiting until Wake Up was all posted. I hope you like it!!

w/c: 2.8k

He’s not quite sure what triggered the fight or flight response, nor the spiral of doubt that followed. Maybe it was the stress of a week of cases with impenetrable prosecutors. Or maybe the way that the old man he’d nearly failed to save from a robbery gone wrong had used the same soap that Stick once used. Regardless, Matt was currently drowning in a series of flashbacks from his childhood.

The rough voice of his old mentor pierced his ears, even though he was alone as he hurdled from roof to roof towards his apartment. You coward. You sniveling weakling. Get back out there and fight like a man.

His breathing was rapid and his heart felt like it was going to fall out of his rib cage at any moment. Willing his brain to shut Stick up, he vaulted to the next building.

Apparently this was not what Stick’s ghost wanted him to do. Quit your fucking whining and turn around, kid. Or are you too fucking soft to fight bumbling idiots now? Worthless sack of shit.

As illogical as it would seem in the future, Matt could feel Stick gaining on him. Tears were pouring down his face as he begged the vision to leave him alone.

A cruel laugh rang in his mind. I see the Devil still can’t handle the truth. Isn’t justice all about people taking accountability, Matty? Are you so useless that you can’t even own up to your stupid mistakes?

Feeling a withered hand on his wrist, his steps faltered and he careened into a gravel pit on the roof before him. Scrambling away from the intangible figure, he screamed. “NO! No, get away. Get away, Stick!” His back collided with concrete as he reached the perimeter of the surface he’d crash landed on. Fists clenching painfully, his head darted around wildly as he tried to find any sign of the man.

The same mirthless laugh sounded again, booming like a pistol at an execution. Away from what, Matty? I’m part of you now. Your crazy ass will never be rid of me.

Hobbling to his feet, Matt took a breath and tried to regain any sense of direction, hurling his wobbly body towards his apartment once again.

His knees finally gave out when he reached the roof of his building. Stupid. Worthless. Crazy. Useless. The expanding list of insults circled his frazzled mind, adding to his frenzy. Scurrying inside and down the stairs, he ripped his face free of his mask. Panting, he sank back to the floor, trying to calm down. Yanking off his gloves and beginning to undo the suit, he was taunted once again.

You think a pansy like you will be able to save the people you claim to love? You couldn’t save your father. You couldn’t save Elektra. And, when the day comes, you won’t save her.

“Shut UP!” Matt roared, hurling his billy club in the direction of the voice. Glass shattered in the distance. Pressing his palms to the floor, he rested his head on the wood and tried to force the new wave of thoughts out of his mind—this time focused on the inevitability of your lifeless body in his arms. Fumbling with the suit's pockets, he grasped his burner phone for dear life. Shaking hands finding the buttons he needed, he held his breath as the phone rang once, twice.

After four rings, when his heart was seconds from breaking, you answered.

“Hey darling, you ok?” Your voice was hoarse with sleep and he cringed as he realized he’d woken you up at some sinful hour. Useless. You won’t save her.

“Love?” You tried again, hesitant to use his real name when you had no idea who was on the other line.

“Yah. I-I’m fine.” Matt stifled a sob poorly. “So—Sorry to wake you.”

“That’s alright, baby. You can wake me whenever you need to, remember?” A brief memory of you consenting to his late night requests for medical help flashed through his mind at your prompting. “Where are you? Are you hurt?”

“Not hurt. ‘M at home.” He answered shakily. “Need you, please.”

“O-ok! Yep, I am coming right now. Give me a minute to get there, I have to get a cab—“ You thought aloud, but Matt interrupted you.

“NO! No. It’s late. It’s not safe. I’ll come to you.” He cursed his lack of consideration for your safety. You won’t save her. Stupid.

“Are you sure, love? It’s not a problem!” He could hear your growing concern and it filled his eyes with tears again.

“I’m sure. Is that ok?”

“Of course that’s ok. Always, my darling. Did you want me to stay on the phone with you?” He sobbed as you parroted the question he always asked you when you called him.

“No. I’ll be there—be there soon.” He managed.

“Ok, love. Get here safe, please.”

After what felt like hours, a soft tapping on your window alerted you to your boyfriend’s whereabouts.

Rushing to help him through the small frame, Matt collapsed into your arms, not exactly giving you the relief you’d optimistically hoped for. But, he was alive.

“Hey, hey, I gotcha. You’re safe now, my love. Where are you hurt?”

Matt gave a pitiful shake of his head.

“You’re—you’re not hurt?” Your question was laced with your genuine confusion.

Matt shook his head again, tears pooling in his haunted eyes.

“Ok, well…let’s get you cleaned up and into comfier clothes.” You glanced at Matt’s rumpled Devil suit. He’d removed pieces but hadn’t changed out of it, apparently.

Maneuvering the vigilante into your bathroom, you frowned at him. “Shower?” You asked, but Matt whimpered so you quickly pivoted. “Ok love, no shower. That’s alright.”

Thinking for a moment, you gently set him down on the lid of the toilet and started the tap. Grabbing the softest cloth you could find, you soaked it in scalding water. Letting it cool for a moment, you began unclasping the body portion of his suit. Slipping the tight fabric off of his torso, you inspected the damage before getting to work.

Swiping the cloth as tenderly as you could across his skin, you started by cleaning his face. Streaks of dirt, sweat, and blood mingled on his porcelain skin, but they quickly vanished under your touch.

“If it’s too hot, or you want to stop, just give me a shove or something, ok?” You’d never seen Matt in such a state of distress and you wanted him to retain his power of choice as much as possible.

Moving down his pummeled body, you carefully cleaned his neck and torso. Gently turning him to clean his back, you bit back a gasp, only just now registering the scrapes and bruises along his side. It almost looked like road rash. What did you get yourself into, darling?

Taking extra caution to not aggravate the injured space, you cleaned every inch of skin currently exposed to you.

“Ok. The top half of you is clean. I’m going to treat the scrapes on your side then we can finish washing up. That ok?” You waited for his small nod before grabbing the neosporin from the first aid kit.

Once Matt was cleaned and his wounds were treated, you guided him to your bedroom where you provided him with a set of fresh clothes that he’d purposefully left there. Sliding the sleeves of the sweatshirt over his trembling fists, you let out a breath.

“All done, my darling. Did you want to get into bed?”

Matt nodded and you obediently began to tuck him in, sliding in next to him once he was settled. Stiffly, he repositioned himself so that he was laying across your chest, one ear over your heart. Finally, he gave a sigh, going limp across your torso.

“There’s my sweet boy.” You murmured, scratching at his scalp in the way he adored. “It’s just us. We’re both safe.”

The two of you were wrapped in silence for a bit before Matt’s demons reared their ugly heads once more.

Coward. Weakling. Fuck up. Matt whined, burrowing his face into your chest as fresh tears cascaded down his cheeks.

“Hey, what happened, Matty? Where does it hurt? What’s wrong?” Your hand stilled against his head and he felt the tears come faster. Grasping the hand in his hair, he begged.

“Please don’t stop.”

Immediately, you began running your fingers through his fluffy hair again. “Ok love. I won’t stop. What hurts?”

“Head. Too loud.”

“I’m being too loud?” Your voice softened before he could respond.

Shaking his head, he took a stuttering breath. “My thoughts. Too loud.”

It was starting to click for you. Matt had offhandedly mentioned that this could happen after his nighttime activities. Sometimes, he bottled up so much that it all came pouring out unexpectedly and overwhelmed him. You weren’t a stranger to the feeling, so you offered a way forward.

“I’m sorry they’re too loud, my love. Would you like to tell me what they’re saying?”

Matt shook his head miserably. “Can you—“ He stuttered, taking a deep breath before attempting to finish the thought. “Do you remember when we talked about me not being enough?”

You hummed in affirmation, waiting for him to continue.

“Can you…can you tell me again? That I’m…good?”

“Oh Matty, of course I can!” Your own eyes threatened to well up at his impossibly quiet request. Your poor boy was suffering so intensely and all he had needed was a few kind words?

You tugged him upwards just a touch so that he could bury his face in your neck. He’d told you once that feeling you talk while being wrapped in your scent was comforting. You were hoping that would be the case tonight.

“You are good, my beloved Matthew Michael Murdock. So so good. You amaze me every single day. You are so compassionate and you save lives every single day. Not just as the Devil, but as Matt Murdock the phenomenal defense attorney too.” You poked his chest and he nuzzled further into your neck, sniffling still.

“And you’re smart. The smartest person I’ve ever known, truly. The ways that you craft arguments and problem solve are unmatched. Like, a few weeks ago when you won that manslaughter case by showing that the woman had CPTSD. That was fucking incredible, darling, and you spared her children from losing their mother. Your intelligence is life changing, my love.”

Matt’s tears had slowed, but you could still feel his shaky breathing against your throat. You pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose before continuing.

“You are so brave. In and out of the suit, honey. The number of times you’ve put yourself at risk to better the city is innumerable. You’ve faced threats that even the Avengers refused to take on. You’re a hero, Matt. A fantastic one.” Shifting so that you were face to face, you pressed your forehead to his.

“You are good and sweet and smart and brave and also the best boyfriend a girl could ever ask for. I’ve never met someone who loves so passionately. You make me feel like I’m a priority and your devotion is inspiring, love. I know you worry about splitting your time between me and your firm and the city but I promise you’re the best partner I’ve ever had. I love you so much, darling.”

Matt was trembling in your arms, fighting back more sobs. You pulled him impossibly closer, placing gentle kisses on his cheeks, jaw, and forehead. “I love you, Matthew Murdock. You are magnificent and I will tell you over and over until you believe it.”

“Thank you.” Matt murmured against your neck as he nestled into your embrace. “I’m sorry, I—“

You pressed a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth to interrupt his self-loathing. “No need to thank me or apologize, my love. I’m here for you, good days and bad.”

Wrapped in your embrace, Matt felt the ghosts of his past failures dissipate. He let his tired eyes fall closed as you massaged his scalp, swallowing to ease the pain in his dry throat. You shifted underneath him and he moaned subconsciously, tightening his grip on your waist. Chuckling beneath him, you brushed a hand over the hair on his forehead.

“I know you want to be glued to my side until we both pass out, but you need water and painkillers. And, given what I know about your nightly routine, probably a snack?” Your reasonable tone did nothing to appease the Matt-shaped octopus latched onto you, who growled and held you closer.

“You’re a cute little devil, you know that? Did you want to stay here or come with me to the kitchen?” In lieu of a response, Matt shifted so that his leg was hooked over your hips, smiling at the resulting jolt of arousal from you. “Matthew, you know I adore this weighted blanket position, but you need water. At the bare fucking minimum. Drink a glass or two for me and I’ll let you cuddle me for hours.” With another low growl, Matt rolled off of you, giving you the opportunity to slide off of the bed. Taking his hand, you carefully pulled him to the kitchen.

Filling a glass with cool water you handed him a couple of painkillers and narrowed your eyes, “Drink all of that, please. I see your stage sips, you goon.” Matt’s lips quirked up and he dutifully switched to actually drinking the water.

Winding yourself around his waist, you nuzzled into his cheek with a quick kiss. “Thank you. Are you hungry at all?” Matt pondered for a moment before giving a shrug so you handed him a granola bar, taking the now empty glass from him. With your arm still hooked around his waist, you drew soft patterns on his hip while he ate. Gracefully tossing the wrapper into the trash, Matt pulled you into an unyielding embrace.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair. You squeezed your arms around his waist.

“I love you too. Now let’s get some sleep or I’ll be unbearable tomorrow.” Matt huffed a laugh and clasped your hand firmly as you padded back into the bedroom.

Drawing in a breath, Matt shuddered awake as the lack of your warmth finally became too much for his subconscious to bear. Whining involuntarily, he let his eyelids slide open as he searched for your presence. Thankfully, it didn’t take more than a moment for him to realize that you were in the kitchen. Your steady heartbeat was surrounded by the soft scraping of a whisk and the smell of brown sugar.

Scrubbing at his irritated eyes, he sighed, debating his next move. While he always craved your touch, he really was not ready to start his day yet. As if you had his superhuman senses, you set down whatever you were cooking in the kitchen and retreated to the sanctuary of his room. He heard your breath hitch as your eyes landed on him and it squeezed his heart in a way he was not overly familiar with.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead. Feeling ok?” Your voice was soft as you sat on the mattress inches from his hip. Hand sliding into his hair, you leaned back onto the pillows gazing at his pretty face.

Submitting to your hair petting happily, Matt made a noise akin to a purr. Giggling, you pressed closer, kneading at his scalp with a bit more vigor. “Mmm feeling fine, I guess.” His voice was rough from his breakdown the night before, forcing him to clear his throat before continuing. “Head hurts a bit.”

Clucking in sympathetic disapproval, you lessened the pressure you were applying to his crown. “I’ll grab you some water and Advil. I was about to make some pancakes, would you like a plate?” Matt nodded, burying himself in your chest and placing sweet kisses along your collarbone.

“If I have time. I should probably get dressed. I’m guessing it’s about time for us to leave?”

Pressing a kiss to his temple, you shifted uneasily. “About that…I may have called Foggy and asked if you could have a day off? Before you get upset, I told him that I had a bad week and wanted you to stay with me today.”

Matt felt the pressure in his chest lift and he smiled. “I’m not upset, sweetness. Do you have the day off too?”

You nodded against his hair, heart still jogging with anxiety about his reaction. Matt shifted so that his forehead could fall against yours. Pressing a kiss to your nose, he cupped your cheek with his hand. “Thank you, angel. I’d be honored to spend the day with you. Since you need me so much.” He pinched your side and you squealed.

The rest of the morning flowed by slowly, complete with stacks of incredible pancakes and syrupy kisses. Matt’s intrusive thought had quieted, for now, replaced with your beautiful laugh and steady pulse.

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eggyrocks · 24 days

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part seven: special latte

m.list

fun facts:

nishinoya broke the karaoke equipment last time :( he was singing bring me to life (both parts) so relatable

he had to pay the damages lmao

oikawa can still taste the mayo latte

the taste is just sitting there it's awful

yn loves experimenting with what she can make into a latte and the grosser the better

she's making it into a tik tok series called "make gross lattes with me so i don't have to do my actual job"

she doesn't get a ton of views but a few have gotten a little traction

oikawa watches all of them from his burner account

album playing in the coffee shop today: everything so far by pinegrove

taglist: @wyrcan @rieieieieieiei @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @garden-of-bri @shotenvinsoot @sugartits123 @awktwurtle @randomidk-123 @httpakkeiji @hikikaimar @rinaheartss @hypnoticmistake @eyes-ofhell @noodleswastaken @nnnyxie @hermaeusmora @rasisarchive @lees-chaotic-brain @sabar7 @marzzn @phoenix-eclipses @causenessus @potatogaryy @ilychee08 @yxcntruu @cotton-eee @minnniee @eclecticeggknightpsychic @sleepy-time @cannibalsrider (please complete this form to be added <3)

#haikyuu smau #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu texts #haikyuu #hq x reader #hq x you #hq #oikawa smau #oikawa tooru x you #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa fluff #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #hq oikawa #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru

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brackishkittie · 9 months

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୨୧- CHAPTER THREE, say it! - ୨୧

summary: after your date, ellie sees your post abt your date on her burner account and is throwing up n pullin her hair out but in the midst of it gets invited to a party you’ll most likely be at.

c/n: strong language, mentions of sex, and ellie just going insane over reader.

a/n: lowkey feel bad for ellie but smh u should’ve been giving her all this attention before y’all broke up wtf. 😒😒

series masterlist! - chapter three ➝ chapter four!

tags: @elsmissingfingers @astrcmoni @cowgirlcherrie @theganymedes @ximtiredx 🩷🩷

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #modern!ellie williams #brackishkittie #dina tlou #dina the last of us #jesse tlou #jesse the last of us

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goodbuckcharlie · 10 days

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Volleyball>> hockey

Warning: minor cussing

Notes: this is just an introduction to Randi and Ally really. I wanted to post this sooner but I also wanted to finish a few parts because I want to make this a series :)

Best friends brother masterlist

@/ Ally_hughes

Liked by _alexturcotte, Colecaufeild, tatemccrae and 325,789 others

Caption- volleyball>>hockey

Tagged- @/Randi.Kingston

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@/Randi.Kingston- you fr exposed me in that last photo

@/ally_hughes- it’s my job as your best friend to keep you humble.

@/Randi.Kingston-well then consider yourself unemployed 🖕

@/markestapa- ooo the girls are fighting

@/_quinnhughes-I hate to be the one to break it to you but everyone in your family plays hockey.

@/ally_hughes- That’s why I’m the best Hughes around💪

@/Jackhughes- The only reason you started playing volleyball is you can’t skate to save your life.

@/ally_hughes- nah I’m built different

@/trevorzegras- 🏒🏒🏒

@/colecaufield-🏒🏒🏒

@/_alexturcotte-🏒🏒🏒

@/edwards.73- 🏒🏒🏒

@/jaime.drysdale-🏒🏒🏒

@/lhughes_06-🏒🏒🏒

@/randikingston- 🏐🏐🏐

@/lhughes_06- I meant to say 🏐🏐🏐

@/umichfan1- Luke changing his answer to match Randi. He’s so in love.

@/devsfan3-Girl you are reaching so hard.

@/umichgirl6-no I think she’s on to something here

@/randi.kingston

Liked by dixiedamelio, tysmith_6, jaimedrysdale, and 467,560 others

Caption- a bad bitch and baddie friend

Tagged-Ally_hughes

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@/ally_hughes- damn we are so hot

@/edwards.43- damn you are so hot

@/lhughes_06- tf u just say?

@/randi.Kingston- don’t mind e moose he talks out of his ass, but he is right Ally is hot

@/jackhughes- it’s past your curfew✋

@/ally_hughes- get out of here boomer

@/randi.Kingston- im going to block you grandpa

@/trevorzegras- don’t let the photos fool you, these two are not as nice as they look.

@/masonmctavish- they are nice they just don’t like you

@/trevorzegras- impossible I’m an absolute delight to be around

@/_quinnhughes- I hate you

@/trevorzegras- I DIDNT EVEN SAY ANYTHING TO YOU.

@/lhughes_06- miss you both ❤️❤️

@/ally_hughes- we all know that you mean “I miss you Randi 💋💋.”

@/randi.kingston- miss you too moose

@/jackhughes- he’s giggling and kicking his feet like a little school girl

@/dawson1417- yeah and he’s muttering to himself like a dork

@/lhughes_06- I am not @/jackhughes @/dawson1417

@/luca.fantilli- last night was wild💪

@/lhughes_06- you were with them?

@/rutgermcgroarty- a couple of us were but apparently we didn’t make it on the ig.

@/randi.Kingston- you guys didn’t make the ig cause it was girls night and you just happened to be at the same bar as we were and then joined us for late night wingstop✋

@/luca.fantilli- I thought our time together meant something

@/edwards.73- you said what we had was special

@/dylanduke25- last night was the best night of my life and you’re saying it meant nothing.

@/lhughes_06- you guys are ridiculous

@/edwards.73- that’s a funny way of saying you’re jealous.

@/lhughes_06- I’m not jealous

@/markestapa- oh so you wouldn’t mind if we told you we are on our way to her dorm rn.

@/edwards.73- you did not just call mark and say “no” and then hang up?

@/umichfan6- hit me like a volleyball mami.

@/umichfan1- I’m 65% convinced this is Luke on a burner account.

@/luca.fantilli

Liked by edwards.43, lhughes_06, Brendan.brisson and 14,409 others

Caption- girls night 🤪

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@/_quinnhughes- why is Edward’s holding my sister like that in that last photo?🤨

@/edwards.73- we were watching a scary movie and she got scared.

@/luca.fantilli- bruh we watched frozen

@/ally_hughes- terrifying

@/_alexturcotte- #freerandi

@/ally_hughes- what’s not photographed is Randi running around like a mad women, Luca sitting on her was the only way she would sit

@/luca.fantilli- more like poor me,she bit me

@/randi.Kingston- I did not bite you

@/lhughes_06- I was never invited to girls day when I was there.

@/ally_hughes- this is your fault, you told your friends to keep an eye on us and now they don’t leave us alone

@/randi.Kingston- moose next time I’m in Jersey we can have a girls night.

@/jackhughes-thats a weird way to ask him out on a date

#hockey imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl #nj devils imagine #luke hughes #luke hughes blurb #umich hockey #umich imagine

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flowerpotmage · 10 months

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Tight Grip, Broken Dam (4)

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You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: for series: slow burn, ambiguous relationship, found family dynamics, reader is in their late 20s. for chapter: action scene, nongraphic injury

Word Count: roughly 3k

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

The first time you had held Miguel was in his lab. It was the earlier days, the grief still raw, the man still shell-shocked. You were brand new to the multiverse, to Earth-928.

You had found him watching videos of his daughter.

“Miguel?”

You’d never seen him close windows on his platform display so fast, before or since then. You waited for him to say something, anything, but all you saw was the tension in his shoulders.

“I’ll leave these here, we just thought you'd like to have some food…” you said, glancing up at him while you placed the takeout box on a level surface.

“Thank you.”

The ghost of a wobble in his voice made you pause, look closer at him. A thwip and a swing, and you were suddenly on the platform with him. He turned to look at you, the vague surprise on his face doing little to hide the shine of his eyes.

And then you hugged him, your arms around his waist and your head against his chest as you squeezed him tight. He clearly didn't know what to do, his own arms floated awkwardly in the air.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m returning the favor,” you mumbled. “From when we met.”

His body seemed to relax at that, just slightly, and his hands came to rest lightly on your back.

“...Thank you.”

You wake twenty minutes before your alarm feeling ill-rested and ill at ease, your dream fading rapidly from your mind. Turning your head to look at where your phone is charging on the edge of the mattress (“You really shouldn’t sleep with that thing in your bed,” you hear Miguel say in the back of your mind), you stare at it as if it will miraculously fix your previous night’s sleep, or suddenly announce that you actually have hours left to return to dreamland.

No such luck.

So you drag yourself out of bed, feeling much like a cursed skeleton climbing from a blackened pit, and reluctantly start your day.

When you head out you leave a sleeping Gwen in the apartment, your dimension-hopping watch in your inner coat pocket beside your mask in case she needs to contact you. You don’t have time to get a burner phone for her this morning, but you put it on your mental to-do list.

Like many Spider-People, your day job is in journalism. You’ve lost track of how many Peter Parkers work in photo -journalism, and how many at the Daily Bugle specifically. You’re no stranger to J. Jonah Jameson and his anti-Spider-Person vendetta, being the target of it here in your own dimension, but you couldn't imagine working for him too. No, your main job is writing for the features section of an entirely different paper, often assigned to human interest pieces, community events, and independent art exhibits. This only pays about half the bills, freelance barely covering the rest, but the hours are flexible and your journalism pass has come in handy enough times during Spider-sleuthing that you wouldn’t change a thing.

Well, besides more pay. Obviously. So… yeah, actually, maybe one thing.

But your heart’s barely in it today. While your body sits in the paper’s office floor, waiting to talk with the editor in chief about your latest piece, your head is–

“You okay today? You look about a million miles away,” one of your colleagues seems to materialize before you, her long pin-straight blonde hair tucked behind one ear.

You give an apologetic smile. Even under the terrible fluorescence of the office lights she manages to look like an ethereal elven being.

So not fair.

“Sorry, late night,” you chuckle weakly. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“I’m guessing from the way you say that, it wasn’t for any fun reason,” she attempts to joke, and you chuckle.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Just uh, one of those nights.”

She glances at the door behind you. “Good luck with Ellison. Ben’s got him in a real mood today, I hear.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

She smiles, turning to head to the door. “See ya later then.”

You return the smile. “Bye, Karen.”

She’s passing through the office door when the editor’s office opens and a balding, bearded man pokes his head out, fixing you under his bespectacled stare.

“ Please tell me you have good things to tell me today.”

“Mitchell,” you greet, rising from the plastic chair to follow him into his office. “Have I ever let you down?”

“Only about five times in recent memory,” he says, motioning for you to close the door as he turns the corner around to the back of his desk, sitting down.

“Fair,” you acknowledge. “But then did I not totally make up for those?”

He rolls his eyes begrudgingly. “Okay, fine.” He gestures at you. “Out with it.”

“I need an extension.”

He sighs, going to take off his glasses–

“I’m kidding,” you quickly say. And then, “Sorry,” when he glares at you from under his crunched together eyebrows. “I actually finished early, it should be in your inbox, and,” you fish out a thin stack of paper collected in a binder clip, holding them towards him in offering. “I brought you a hard copy for your notes. I know the printer here is on the fritz.”

He raises his eyebrows, reaching across the table to accept the papers. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” you say. “Because I'm going to assume you can't pay me for it yet, so I won't even ask. Can I have my next story?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to finish so soon,” he says, plopping the papers down on his desk. “I won’t have more for you for at least a week, since you refuse to cover the Spider.”

“Conflict of interest,” you immediately recite, punching your hands into your coat pockets.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off. “Take the week, use it to catch up on your freelance work, see if there’s anything you wanna pitch to me.”

You nod, the two of you say your farewells, and you exit the office.

Back on the street, a light wind nips at your nose and ears. There’s no aggression behind it, the nips as harmless as a teething puppy, but the chill is there nonetheless. Once again you punch your hands into your pockets to spare your fingers the gummy mouthing of the wind, letting it chase you down the sidewalk and dance around your heels.

With nothing but time to kill, you scan through your mental list of tasks and errands—

Ah. A phone for Gwen.

The simple errand was going very, very wrong.

First, on the way there, you had gotten swept into a car chase as The Spider, at one point narrowly dodging a bullet with your name on it. The unnamed woman from the last night Miguel had stayed over flashed through your mind when it blew past you, throwing you off and earning you a road rash on your hands, knee, and one forearm that you’d be feeling for the next few days, at least. God, you wish you had a better healing factor.

Second, the first phone-related store you happened upon was one of those places with windows pasted with advertisements, the glass behind bars, and the entire storefront covered in bright glittery and flashing signage. Most prominent was the ‘ WE BUY GOLD!!!’ sign dancing with all the enthusiasm of a Las Vegas showgirl.

It was also being robbed. Which wasn’t a problem for you of course, it was just that you were starting to feel pretty damn drained already and it wasn’t even noon.

After some acrobatics that would impress even Gwen, you succeeded in webbing up the four men involved with the overzealous attempted robbery, leaving them hanging from the lampost outside to be picked up before buying a prepaid flip phone with cash.

But no, that wasn’t all that went wrong. You believed yourself to be in the clear, stopping to get a sandwich once back in your civilian clothes, and now you sat on a bench in the square watching manicured bushes rustle in the midday breeze.

“Mm,” you hum, swallowing your first bite of your sandwich, and going for another.

And then, the third thing goes wrong. A portal opens up and spits out a rather tall man, covered head to toe in glowing and moving circuit-board patterns under his hat and trenchcoat. The air buzzes with static even from where you sit nearly twenty feet away, your internal alarm blaring like a bad horror movie.

His head turns with a sudden, jerking motion, looking you directly in the eyes.

“Oh, shit.”

His body turns to face you, moving as jerky as his head had. You barely have time to jump up and run, abandoning your sandwich, before his arm lifts and he fires a goddamn laser ball at you.

“Shit, shit!”

You scatter with the other handful of people who had been in the square, searching frantically for somewhere to pull on your mask and safely ditch your things. It takes a moment, but you manage it, and when you emerge from the tiny alley to slingshot yourself back to the square, the anomaly is walking straight for you, movements jerky and mechanical.

“Ohhh, this isn’t good,” you lift your watch to your masked face as you land on a grassy patch. “I need backup! Anomaly on Earth-”

You don’t manage to get your dimension number out as you speak into your watch, because a second laser blast is heading straight for you. Your internal alarm bell screeches at you just in time for you to dodge and for it to fly through empty air where your rib cage had been moments before.

You land in a roll, scraping your road-rash all over again, standing as the park tree behind where you had stood moments shatters and topples, branches bouncing and rustling against themselves in a way that sounds quite a lot like the blood rushing through your ears.

You shoot a web at the electric man, but his cannon arm— Holy shit, his whole arm? —tears through it like, well, a cobweb.

“Electro!” You shout, taking a wild guess as to his identity. You don’t have an Electro on your earth, but you’ve heard enough and seen enough waiting to be sent home, so you connect the dots. “We don’t need to do this! I can hel-”

“Not. Elec. Tro.” He speaks, voice choppy like his movements, distorted and filtered. “Ven. Ture.”

Dots un- connected.

“Wha-? Who?”

He raises his cannon arm at you once more. You start to run, looking for something with height.

No such luck.

Then across the square a familiar golden portal opens, pulling your attention.

It pulls Venture’s too.

A figure steps out, Venture swinging his cannon arm in the new direction. You call out in warning, shooting your webs to grab his arm. The sudden pull on his arm throws his aim off and the cannon fires into a bench, leaving a charred hole the size of a man’s torso where the laser hits.

You see a piece of charred sandwich wrapper comically flutter away from the blast as a familiar voice calls out to you, using your alias of Spider.

Your head whips to see Miguel. Miguel, who you’ve just saved.

Miguel who could be vaporized right now.

“Wrap him up!” He shouts, and you nod, Miguel charging Venture while you have his arm webbed and unable to aim at him.

You seem to realize at the same time that Venture does that just because he cannot pull against your web to shoot Miguel, doesn’t mean he can’t just turn towards you.

You don't register the words, but you recognize Miguel’s shout as you backflip and narrowly dodge yet another blast from Venture’s laser cannon arm. When you’ve righted yourself you see Venture firing wildly, Miguel’s talons digging into and cracking the cannon as he shoves it aside.

You’re sprinting towards them, shooting webs to pin the cannon arm to the ground before Venture can raise it and shoot Miguel, who’s baring his teeth to bite down on the man’s other arm.

Alarm bells.

“Wait, don’t–!” You cry, shooting webs to pin down Venture’s other arm, grabbing Miguel’s shoulder to pull him back.

“Why not?!” He snarls, whipping his head and shoulders to face you, all adrenaline and teeth and talons as he crouches over Venture.

“He’s not– He’s all– he’s all juiced up with electricity–” you scramble to explain, waving your hands around.

His eyes dart over your face, your body, catching on your scraped hands, knee, and elbow. He stiffens further, breathing heavily from the short fight. In the blink of an eye he whips back around, punches Venture in the face, knocking him out cold.

“Jesus,” you whisper, eyes wide.

Miguel rises and begins to tie Venture up with his own webs, tearing yours off the now unconscious figure’s arms so that they’re no longer stuck to the ground. You’ve seen his talons before, of course, but you can’t help but stare at the quick work they make of your webs.

His mask is back on when he straightens to his full height, turning to look at you.

“Are you alright?” He asks, nodding his head at your scrapes.

You blink under your mask, looking down. Only now do you see that the scrapes on one of your hands and on your knee are bleeding again. As the fog of adrenaline begins to recede the sting of pain comes in to replace it.

“Oh, yeah. This wasn’t him, this was… earlier.” You flex your hands slightly at the growing sting in your palms, glad he can’t see your slight grimace under your mask. “It’s been an… eventful day.”

Miguel stares at you for a moment, before looking down to tap his watch. “Come to HQ.”

You nod.

Miguel insists you get your scrapes cleaned up by one of the medically trained Spider-Men at HQ when you get back. He lurks in the corner, his elbow resting on his other arm crossed over his ribs as he taps at his chin, his bottom lip. He takes brief breaks from glaring at the floor to take the occasional quick glance up at you, his fingers pausing in their tapping when he does.

“No significant debris,” Doctor Spidey says, pushing away on his stool to retrieve bandages where they sit waiting on the counter nearby after cleaning your scrapes. “They’ll heal up fast, just keep it clean for the next while until they do.”

You nod, keeping your palm out for him to wrap. Both of you try to pretend that Miguel isn’t hovering in the corner while bandages are wrapped around your palms, your outer forearm, and your knee.

“Alright!” Doctor Spidey says. “You’re good to go.”

After expressing your thanks you exit the doctor’s office, Miguel’s towering form following behind you.

“How’d you get those anyway?”

You turn to look at him, a brief jolt going through you when you find his eyes already on you. His brow is furrowed, and the muscle in his jaw twitches when he turns his gaze forward to focus on the path of the hall you both journey down.

“Oh, um, car chase earlier,” you say, wishing you had pockets to put your hands into. You finally look away, watching the ground in front of your feet.

Miguel’s form by your side eats up your awareness, even as you pass other Spider-People and exchange passing hellos. Something restless and hot rolls off his body, and it swallows you up like water.

“You need to be more careful,” he says, and his voice is sharp with agitation, frustration.

You bristle at his tone.

“I am careful. I was careful.” You frown, turning to look at him.

The muscle in his jaw twitches again.

“Yeah. Clearly.” He says, glancing at your injuries and looking away just as you frown and start to open your mouth.

“Miguel, hey! Oh-ho, and our little Garden Spider?”

It’s Peter who interrupts whatever it is you're about to say to Miguel. As usual he has May with him in the baby carrier, and her pudgy little hands hold onto his fingers as he absentmindedly bounces them in the air.

You do your best to school your features, your mask clenched in your hand as you try to take your attention back from Miguel and his now crossed arms in the corner of your vision.

“Hey Peter,” you give a close lipped smile, hoping it doesn't look as tense and forced as it feels.

He glances between the two of you, Miguel’s tense body and crossed arms, then your own stiff posture and your bandages.

“Damn,” he raises his eyebrows. “What happened to you ?”

Miguel’s crossed arms tense in the corner of your eye.

“Car chase,” you manage to say. “Slipped.” You shrug, mustering up every ounce of nonchalance in your body.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I’ve been there. Road rash is no fun. Y’know, one time–”

“Peter, as fascinating as I’m sure this story is, I have things to get to,” Miguel interrupts.

“Right,” Peter shrugs it off like it's no big deal, stepping out of the way. “You’re missing out though, it’s a pretty good story.”

“Uh-huh.” Miguel lets his arms uncross as he starts to walk again, and he gets a few large strides past Peter before he falters to a stop, turning to look back over his shoulder.

You want to continue on walking with him, you really do. That new feeling you’re getting all too familiar with, the one that squeezes your ribs, returns when his eyes meet yours. He hesitates, something unsure in his eyes.

“We still need to debrief,” Miguel says.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Miguel hesitates still, turning away at last and then walking away, shoulders tense.

Once Miguel turns the corner, Peter turns to you. “I feel like I interrupted something.”

You slump slightly, rubbing your now furrowed brow. “Today sucks, Peter.”

“Aw, hey,” Peter says, stepping closer to put a fatherly arm over your shoulders, May reaching out to pat you. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head. “No, I should…” you trail off and gesture in the direction Miguel had left.

“Right. Baaad idea to keep boss-man waiting.”

You nod. Peter pats your back.

“Listen,” he says, pulling back but keeping a hand on your shoulder as you lift a hand to let May grab your finger. “Whatever it is, it’s just because he cares. You know that right?”

You nod. “Yeah, I know.” Letting go of May’s hand, you give Peter a tired, thankful smile. “I’ll see you around.”

You’re almost out of earshot when you hear Peter mumble to May:

“Those two are killing me, kid.”

<< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >>

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #x reader #spiderverse x reader

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venusin-aries · 3 months

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If I have one more e/riel burner account come on my page, trying to say elucien isn’t compatible (but E/riel is????) and compare Lucien and Elain’s bond to borderline abusive bonds, I’m gonna start fucking biting people.

I’m sorry, but this shit has happened one too many times and the comparison is fucked up.

All the parallels throughout ALL of SJM’s series prove elucien is, in fact, the most compatible for each other. Maybe her most compatible couple she’s written yet imo and NOTHING is changing my mind about that.

#elucien #pro elucien #45 percent of this fandom doesn’t know how to read though so what’s the point of tagging 🤷🏻‍♀️#The block button is my new best friend #pro lucien vanserra #because holy shit that dude does not deserve to be compared to that shit #I am in MOURNING for the nice and empathetic person I used to be thank you e/riels

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biblicallyaccuratefour · 4 months

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|No Mercy Rants| Rant post: Profily, the puppeteer and hiding from the truth

AND ANOTHER ONE DOWN, AND ANOTHER ONE DOWN, ANOTHER ONE BITES DA DUST- /ref

Anyways, hello, lads, lassies, fellow letter mafiosos and attack helicopters, since this is my THIRD rant on this blog, I decided to make a series out of it called the ‘No Mercy Rants’, which is a play on Undertale’s ‘No Mercy Run’. Now, to stop myself from further digressing, I’ll put in a disclaimer. (I know that PAF was done to death at this point, but bear with me- T^T)

(Disclaimer: This rant will be discussing topics of harassment and theft. If you’re not a fan of these topics, then please click off and view something else. Do NOT harass anyone mentioned, as I don’t want yous to stoop to PAF’s level. All of the testimony is screenshotted with the users’ consent.)

Now, the next one on the chopping block is @profily-and-friends, which I’ll refer to as PAF for short. So, let’s start from the beginning. In around August, 2023 (I was on my summer holidays, btw-), PAF had started posting several artworks that have been stolen from Twitter (or X, as Elon Musk puts it. Such an eejit-), Deviantart, Tumblr, and other sites. Somewhere around that time, maybe later, @knighttobreath, a user on Tumblr, started the spree of crediting the stolen art to their respective artists. This is where the drama and the beef began…

Now, a few months later, @akalikestodraw, a mutual of mine, was harassed multiple times by PAF because she ‘allegedly stole her art’. Now, take note that this is false, and that Aka has made amazing artwork on her own. She was also accused of tracing artworks. There’s also been asks sent to other users, like @justapplenothinghere, @galaxy-brushs-posts, and many other users, telling them to cancel Aka. Fortunately, no one took the steps to cancel Aka. They instead supported her. PAF told @wowwzaaxei-aster, that Aka was deactivating her account (also false). I’ve interviewed Aka on the matter, and she sees this as them trying to pin the blame on her. All of this had happened on her birthday. (Wow, that’s a shitty way to celebrate one’s bday… ) This whole thing made Aka, and her partner worried, and I’d be worried too, if I was in her place.

Another sin that PAF has committed was the harassment of other artists, requesting them to draw Profily with multiple asks, presumably using alternative or burner accounts, otherwise known as ‘sock puppets’. For some unfortunate artists who fulfil said requests are met with harsh criticism from PAF that they drew Profily ‘incorrectly’. They even get upset when their request is ignored, spamming the artists’ inboxes. I’ve seen them and their sock puppets interact with some of my posts, and the only criticism that I had from them was asking where were the other algebraliens when I made the Eight as Sans post. (In my defence, I was lazy af, and I had school shit going on).

Now, another thing I’d like to mention is that they’ve tried to cancel @talkingteardrop, another mutual of mine. There was a conversation between PAF and their sock puppets about how TD was ‘allegedly racist’, (another false claim) because they ignored PAF (I smell insane troll logic here-). They even claimed that they and TD were ‘best friends’, which they weren’t. (That pissed me off the most, as assholes in my school claimed that they were my friends, even though they’re not.)

Now, as the drama goes on, it becomes even more apparent that PAF is a manipulative puppeteer who’ll harass others to get what they want. They actively hide from the truth and tries to bend the narrative as to how they see it. Their actions have real life impacts, as it has made people feel terrible and having anxiety about going on with their business.

With that said, “What the fuck do we do now..?” Welp, for starters, block every single alt and sock puppet PAF has and report them all for harassment and art theft. Do NOT engage with them, just for your own mental health and to not waste your time and energy on them. (The fact that they use sock puppets reminds me of ZR0finix).

Make sure to drink plenty of water, get plenty of sleep and stay determined, lads. It hurts me to see that people like PAF are making this much trouble in our little community on Tumblr. (I guess my work on rants will never be done-)

Evidence under the cut-

Evidence and testimony from these files:

Knighttobreath's testimony

Talking Teardrop's testimony

Aka's testimony

Screenshots

#yuri's mumbling #yuri's rant #rant post #rant #yuri's take on drama

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pacific-coast-hockey · 10 months

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Heads up people who are tangentially interested in the AHL or who are all in the Kraken or Capitals, AHLTV is running a promo where you can watch Game 7 of the Calder Cup tomorrow for FREE! Coachella Firebirds vs Hershey Bears, it's been an absolute barn burner this entire series. You need to sign up for an AHLTV account, but they do not ask for payment information. (Or just DM me for the burner I just set up lmao.) Game starts at 7pm pt/10pm et and both teams want this cup so bad, so it should be a good game!

#coachella firebirds #hershey bears #washington capitals #seattle kraken #ahl

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netherfeildren · 1 year

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FEAR OF GOD : Chapter VI : The indignity of suffering

Series Masterlist ; Moodboard

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: Go into that dark wood, but do not lose yourself.

Content Warnings: canon typical violence; gore; angst

A/N: I just wanted to say that you all have been so fucking kind and lovely and supportive to me. I’ve read and tried to reply to every single one of your messages and cherish them so so much. I can’t even tell you what it means to me to receive this type of response to something I’ve written, my very first thing I’ve ever shared publicly, at that. I seriously thought this thing’d have two hits, me and my burner account and that’s it. I appreciate each and every single one of you to the end of the earth, and hope I can continue to write things that you all relate to and are moved by and find solace in. Thank you so so so much. I love you and I wish you all nothing but the most amazing things in the whole world.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 3.5K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VI: The indignity of suffering

Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story. -Richard Siken, War of the Foxes

You sit now in the dark quiet of your living room, facing straight forward, unseeing, feet planted firmly on the floor, trying to ground yourself and count the sounds of your breath. Feel the inhale pass all the way into your body, deep down to your toes, back up again through your abdomen, whistle through your lungs, up your throat and out, back into the world. A repetitive exercise to try and soothe your racing heart.

You need to leave.

Birdie, I love you. Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie.

Your nails are splintered bloody, the tips of your fingers rubbed raw from the fight in the woods. It hurts, and you pick at the broken skin trying to distract from the other pain writhing within you. Something, something else has to exist in the world that can hurt more than this, than him. Please, please, let there be something else worse than this. You pick harder at the skin. You still possess enough clarity of mind to be cognizant of the fact that your thoughts are slightly unhinged. Something to hurt more? Why? For what? What good would that do you? For the girl who’s always tried to have the answers to every question that came her way, you find that there are no discernible solutions to this. No reason, no way to conceptualize it. There was no easy way to color within the lines in this moment, tuck it all away neatly into a drawer. Your edges are frayed, savaged, bloody and torn.

He had done this to you – true. But in many ways you had also done this to yourself. You could only go on accepting the way others treated you for so long before it got to be too much. And you knew, once again, that it was all about the choices you made. What were you willing to put up with? What were you willing to let go of? What was necessary for your survival? What would you die without?

I will die without him, you think.

Asking for things for yourself had always been excruciating. You’d gotten better at pushing that piece of yourself away – that deficit – with age. You saw it for what it was now, something to hurt you, rather than, naively considered, to protect you. And it was time now, to ask for this, to demand he love you out in the open. He could not say the words to you, fuck them into you with his body and his touch, press them into your skin – and then take them back? No. His terror at the possibility of losing you, of you getting hurt sent him over the edge, robbed him of rational thought, you could objectively understand this, but the agony of having him and not having him – of being able to only brush your fingertips along the phantom idea of him, never being able to hold on tight — dig your nails into his skin and draw blood; well that provided grounds for cowardice. Surely, it excused it, even. Because, you think: this is unendurable, unendurable.

The two of you were made up of so much fear in equal measures. Him, afraid of his own feelings, of showing his softness, of putting that softness in someone else’s hands. And you, you, sometimes you terrified yourself. The lengths you could go to swallow your hurts, to repress the things that broke your heart – you couldn’t live like this anymore. It was too painful, abnormal – emaciating yourself in the name of being strong and stoic.

So perhaps Joel was right, in this instance. You did. You needed to leave. As a means of self preservation, you needed to do as he’d told you. You needed to get out, away from him. From yourself. From all these people who knew you, and how much you wanted and needed and loved him and fucking prostrated yourself at the effigy of him you’d created in your mind. You wanted to scream and thrash and gnaw your teeth through the very marrow of who and what you were, and you wanted to say that you hated him and yourself and everything, everything, everything. Why did you have to be this way? Why did he have to be this way? You felt angry and resentful with the world, with life itself. But you didn’t, you couldn’t, say or do any of those things.

None of them were true.

What was true was that it was not your responsibility to step between him and his daughter. To defend or protect him from her. That was not your place. Not right now, at least. The struggle between them was their own, could only be mended by them two.

What was true was that you loved him. And he loved you. You knew this now, without doubt. What was true was that he hurt you. That he was terribly afraid. That he could not allow himself the vulnerability of being hurt again himself.

Beth. Beth. Beth. Where are you, sister? I need you.

You needed to go back out. Despite what had happened tonight, and your very real fear that there could be more of those men out there, that woman and her baby were out there somewhere. You needed to find them; there was something inside of you urging you out there to them – the look in her eyes, the sound of the child’s cries – and there wasn’t anything that could stop you from going. The idea of leaving the safety of Jackson’s walls without Joel, without his reassuring protection and competence, caused a fear to surge up inside you that was almost debilitating. But you had to do this. You had to find them, help them in any way you could. The desperation in the woman’s eyes – it was like a mirror of your own terror the night Beth had died. You saw yourself in her gaze in that moment, the terrified reflection of your past self.

You’d gone straight to Maria from Joel’s. The look on your face, enough to tell her this was something you needed to do now. She’d gone straight to Noah first, then another girl in town, called Vero, both were competent trackers and hunters, and Noah was your friend. You knew he’d help you. They’d agreed to go. You’d head out tomorrow at first light, search the greater part of the day, go as far out as you could and still be able to make it back before dark. Easy and quick.

He wanted you gone. He wanted you to leave. Then you would. It wasn’t in your nature to be petty or lash out, but it was in your nature to hide, to swallow a hurt, to run. This was self preservation at its core. You needed to get away from the humiliation. The burning rejection of knowing that you loved him, and that even though he’d said the words, he still saw you as something apart from himself and the things he held close. Not family.

There was a more level headed part of you that objectively knew he’d be furious to know you’d gone back out without him. That he’d lose his mind when he found out. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. The petty and hurt part, the part he’d just trampled all over, would win tonight, wanted to lash out. If Maria was letting you go you knew your plan wasn’t suicidal – at least not in terms of what you might run into out there. You both knew the three of you could take care of yourselves. Joel, though, he might just kill you himself when you returned.

But you needed time to conceptualize your feelings. Fold things away as neatly as possible – the things he’d said to you – you needed to shut this love away in a drawer, put it to rest as best as you could. Dissociate from it if necessary, from him.

You wished desperately for Connie in this moment. For his clear logic and calming baritone. Use your head, honey. The answer’s right there in front of you. For him to pet your hair and tell you it’d all be okay. But he wasn’t here. And neither was Beth or Ellie or Maria. No one you felt could understand, not truly. Really, you knew you wanted to talk to Joel. Knew he understood this overwhelming feeling of having absolutely nothing left to give. That he knew how someone who knows what it’s like to go without, is always willing to give more. Even if they don’t have anything left for themselves. That this feeling you were experiencing now was exactly what held him back from you.

He understood the sentiment intimately. As hard as he’d tried to push you away, keep you at arms length, shield the softness within himself from your prying eyes and grasping fingers, you’d seen it. You’d even felt it brush up against you. And you knew, you knew, he had so, so much left to give. Even if he couldn’t see it himself. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to share it with you. He’d done it for Ellie. For that little girl all that time ago who’d needed him, and despite his reluctance, fear, trauma, his painful, painful past – he’d given himself to her entirely.

It wasn’t in you to judge him for holding himself back from you. As much as it ripped you to shreds, you understood him with a profoundness and an empathy you surprised yourself with. Of course he was fucking scared. Of course he was terrified of the risk of pain. Of the risk of loss.

The mistake was to assume that any person you loved would be, at all times, without fault. Never cruel. Never selfish. Would never hurt you. In love or friendship or family, you now considered, with experience, the real test of longevity to be acceptance of that occasional mistake – whether it be cruelty or selfishness or hurt – it didn’t really matter. The people you loved would hurt you sometimes. They’d say the wrong thing. Do the wrong thing. Make the wrong choice. To err was human. No one was ever perfect one hundred percent of the time, and to allow for that margin of error, was to be merciful in your love. Not only for them, for the person you loved, but for yourself, as well. The capacity – the space to make mistakes and forgive yourself for it, own it and move on – that was true mercy. That was the true promise of longevity. Especially in a world like this, one so full of cruelty and danger and casual hurts. Risk, always risk just around the corner. And Joel, he was not a man who took risks lightly. He was an animal cornered – and a threatened creature does not think of consequences. It considers only survival.

It was in the way you proceeded after your mistakes, the choices, the actions you took to make reparations, that the true test lay.

All of this understanding, however, didn’t mean his rejection was painless. All the self awareness in the world still wasn’t enough to soothe the sting of rejection. And it stung like a bitch.

You feel yourself start to tilt sideways onto your sofa, glassy eyes taking in the warm corners of your home. The piles of books, your tacky orange plaid throw over the armchair by the fire, the drawings Ellie’d given you to put up. A life strung together with sheer determination – a safe space. It didn’t feel as safe, as warm, in this moment, without him. Autonomy over your body lost to grief, your shoulder hits the green cushion. You turn your face into the darkness and let the hot press of tears break free. Muffled and quiet, you let all that hurt you wished you could erase, out. The pain in your throat is strangling, trying to keep yourself contained. There is a savagely broken place within you that forces you, even in this moment, to remain subdued, and you wish you could let it all out in a messy explosion of tears and howling. That your mind would allow your physical reaction to reflect the seething pain you’re feeling inside, to let go of restraint for even just a moment.

When you’ve lost everything, how do you muster the bravery to hold onto something new?

You had it in you to run – to sneak away in the dark. This you knew. To be cowardly – even if only in his eyes. To be selfish. Even if you knew that running away, even after he’d told you to go, was the worst possible thing you could do to him. Be selfish, Birdie. Be selfish for me, just a little bit, he’d said once. Well, you would be. You needed distance and space to lick the bleeding wound your heart had become, and you had something you felt you direly needed to do. That woman was waiting for you out there – you felt it in your bones, the baby’s cry resounding in your memory over and over again.

Perhaps your anger was useless. After all, an animal cornered could only react on instinct, and Joel had cornered himself with his confession.

But you were so, so tired. You couldn’t fight anymore.

It’s the end of the goddamned world, Joel. Just love me like I know you do.

You pull the cinch of the saddle, checking it’s secure. You’d slept like shit, the events of the night before replaying in your mind on a loop. His words clanging against your skull over and over again. The dark woods – Beth’s dying screams. The clicking. The look on Ellie’s face – so concerned, scared for you. Scared of what would become of you without him. Dawn hasn’t broken over the horizon yet, but you’re ready to get out of here.

Sometimes you feel like he isn’t actually real. A figment you’ve created in your imagination. And really, if you’re being wholly honest with yourself, isn't that the most honest truth between the two of you? Isn't everything you think you need from him merely something born from your own yearning? Haven’t you been half-existing without him this whole time? One foot in, one foot out. If you’d never had the whole thing, had you ever really even had it at all?

Perhaps that isn’t fair, to either of you. You can’t tell what’s right or wrong anymore, real or imaginary. Your mind, blanketed by exhaustion, coherence gone out the door like an old lover.

Have I been walking in circles again?

“You ready to go?” You’re snapped from your reverie at the sound of Noah’s voice. Nausea churns in your gut on a low, threatening simmer. Everything held in a tight knot at the base of your throat. Vero’s saddled and ready to go – waiting for the two of you to mount, as well.

Maria’s old adage, her overused one at that, sounds in your mind: The only people who can betray us are the ones we trust. How right she always is. After all, hurting someone is an act of reluctant intimacy. Who knows your soft spots, where to strike hardest, better than someone who loves you?

Leaving was probably a mistake. In the cool clarity of the damp morning, you’re worried you’re walking into something the three of you are ill prepared for, incapable of handling. But you know that baby is out there – you know the desperation in the woman’s eyes wasn’t feigned, couldn’t be. You had to find them. And Joel’d done most of the heavy lifting, killing, last night – that man’s skull crushed beneath the violent weight of his fist, the stray clickers done away with. All you had to do now was find that woman and her child, and hope nothing worse waited for you out there.

So much had happened in the span of such a few, seemingly short hours.

You mount your horse, and your belly sways with nausea you have to grit your teeth against. Concern nips at your heels, but you can’t think about that now. Not after last night, not in light of what you’re about to set out to do. Perhaps not ever. Perhaps you can ignore your anxieties and suspicions indefinitely. Perhaps then, they can’t hurt you, won’t be made real. Can’t remind you of how alone you’ll be after this is done.

You have much to do: you must make yourself into stone, kill your memories, kill your desires, find your future. Change the very nature of your soul, if you must, learn to live without him.

Noah settles on his mount, and you click your tongue, the three of you start to move forward. You’re afraid. A huge yawning pit of trepidation, of terror opening in your gut. This is how Joel must feel all the time. But there’s also the voice in your head, telling you this is something you need to do. No matter what. You feel so keenly, in your very marrow, that they’re waiting for you. There was no discerning evidence as to why you knew you needed to do this, why you felt you’d recognized her, but you did.

It seemed empirically impossible that the two of you’d have met each other at that precise moment last night. In the tumult of chaos that had crashed around the two of you in that dark wood, that the night had cleared for one precise second to allow you to look at her face, to see all she needed to voice but could not say; that she was terrified, that she needed help. There had to be a reason for that.

You’d been searching for reasons in meaningless things for far too long now. You knew this. You should apply your rational mind to questioning this hair-brained plan, tell yourself that leaving without Joel, despite the things he’d said last night, was suicide. You could very well die, either out there, at the hands of some monster, or in here, after he murdered you for going out there without him. Part of you didn’t really care anymore. A blanket of numbness clouding your judgment.

You’d always been a girl that had done as she was told, inhabited the place in life assigned to you. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to do something you weren’t supposed to.

You ride for several hours before you’re attacked. The silent woods surround the three of you, moving slowly in the general direction of the clearing from last night, and then further on towards the way which she’d fled. It’s peaceful, the steady cadence of the horses hooves, the wind disturbing the stillness of the trees like a whispered song of the leaves; you think they might be telling you to turn around, to go back to him. And then, as if you’d been struck by lightning, coming to after, only to discover catastrophe of the highest order. You tell yourself you won’t regret your choice to come out here, you won’t, no matter what happens, you all can fight, this was something you had to do. There’s chaos circling you, Vero and Noah’s shouts, a gun sounding, and then you turn to see Vero’s body falling to the ground. There’s a bullet wound straight through her skull, dead center, brain matter splattering behind her in a sick mockery of strewn life. You’re shocked into utter stillness, all thought, all understanding wiped from your brain as neatly as the bullet through hers. This is your doing.

And then fire, fire, fire, suddenly – shockingly. Pulverizing your ribs, your flesh, your very self. An inferno climbing up your chest, down your hip, and through your arm, spreading uncontrollably. You lose your seat on the horse, and then you too, are plummeting to the ground. The unyielding ground surging up towards your face like a cold wave. You feel as if you fall for centuries, and then your body is slamming sickeningly against the forest floor, your shoulder crunches and you want to howl; your head rebounding so hard you feel your very brain jostle inside your skull. Your vision flashes in and out, blurred and unfocused, and all you can discern are the mammoth figures of the trees around you. Looming over you like monsters in the dead of night, come to devour.

My secret, my secret, I never got to tell him.

You try to curl in on yourself, protect whatever remains of a body you’re not sure you possess anymore. More resounding shots of a gun, again, again, screaming and howling. Perhaps the wolves have descended. He’s going to be so angry, you think. My friends, my friends are dying because of me. Noah, where is Noah? Please, please, don’t be dead too.

You think that if you die, Joel and Ellie have to make up. They have to. He’ll need her so much.

Birdie, I love you. Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie.

You should have never left. You should have stayed with him. No matter what he said. What the hell did he know anyway? You should have fought harder. You should have stayed with him.

The dark lake of unconsciousness swallows you whole.

Chapter VII

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#Joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #FoG fic

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