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astroboots · 11 months

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EVERY YOU EVERY ME #9

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You get a new mysterious co-worker.

Word count: 8,100

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

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August 1st

Nearly pancaked by grand piano falling from the 8th floor outside of favorite cafe. No casualties (except the piano).

August 5th

Freak blizzard out of nowhere during lunch. Nearly crushed by large icicle dropping directly outside the exit of the Chrysler building. No other known casualty.

August 6th

An escaped hippopotamus from the Bronx zoo ran 11.3 miles, nearly got stampeded when exiting hotel for work. No casualties.

August 12th

Tornado appeared inside the Guggenheim museum, nearly squashed by large falling statue. Nobody nearby was seriously injured.

It's already mid-August now. You've used up more than a month of your allotted three. It means you don't have much more time to waste, but that knowledge does nothing to help you in figuring things out.

You’ve compiled a comprehensive list of the Universe's ongoing murder attempts, determined to keep track of them all. All in all, there are 37 incidents and counting that you’re aware of… and they’re all different.

They differ in severity. They differ in scale and they differ in frequency. Sometimes it can take weeks, sometimes days, sometimes within hours of each other. If there’s any sort of pattern to them—anything that might help you predict what will happen next or how to stop it—you can’t see it. There’s nothing that gives you any hint or clue as to where you can start to make progress with solving this mystery.

The one thing you have been able to observe from cataloging these incidents is that Miguel was right about what he told you that day at Starbucks: the universe is ramping up. Each attempt is becoming more and more bizarre, defying the very laws of physics and nature in its attempts to snuff you out. Before this, in all of your years in New York, you’ve never heard of a blizzard in July or a tornado indoors.

With the escalating dangers, Miguel is more on guard than ever. Sticking close to you at all times like a particularly insistent herding dog that’s always a few inches from nipping at your heels. Even when he’s seemingly preoccupied by something else—reading a book, folding clothes, eating a crate of kit kats in one sitting—you can always tell that he’s keenly aware of and attuned to your every minute move.

Practically, the only time he lets you out of his sight is for bathroom visits.

Work is still a point of contention between you two. He hates that he can't enter the building to monitor you at work and make sure you're safe, and after that incident when you caught a co-worker trying to take a surreptitious selfie with Spiderman while Miguel was loitering around in the windows, you’d banned him from climbing and scuttering around the exterior of the building like some deranged squirrel.

It’s made him even less pleased about your whole work situation, something he’s not shy about sharing with you. Every morning when you are about to leave for work, Miguel will stand by the door with that ever present frown and ask you:

“Why are you still going into a job you hate when there’s only two months left?”

This morning, you sigh as you reach for your jacket and messenger bag.

Part of you completely understands and even agrees with his logic. If the end of the world is only two months away, why go back to that shithole everyday? You could go to Disneyland. Eat fancy croissants in Paris for breakfast. Have Lyla fake a reservation at an all-inclusive yoga retreat in Bali. You could be living your life like every moment is your last.

The thing is though, as delusional as it may be, you’re not ready to bet on the world ending just yet.

“Miguel, I fully intend for the universe to still be around in two months. And I don’t want to be unemployed when that day comes. I’m not some trust fund baby. Once we figure this thing out, you’re gonna be free to go, and if you take Lyla with you, then what am I supposed to do? Live on the streets? Rent in the city is ridiculous, and my rent-controlled apartment got blown into a million pieces.”

For once Miguel doesn’t seem to have anything smart to say back. He tilts his head, quietly studying your face. Then after a long pause, he gives you a curt nod, as if something clicked into place.

"Fine."

You stop mid-way through zipping up one of your boots to eye him suspiciously.

Okay, that’s… different.

In all the mornings you’ve repeated this argument, this is the first time he’s simply accepted your explanation without sassing you back. He just gazes right back, apparently unperturbed, and holds the door of your hotel room open for you, ready to walk you to work.

There is definitely something going on inside his head, because this stubborn dummy never lets anything go without a fight. You just don’t know what it is yet.

By mid-morning, you've forgotten all about your suspicions, too busy dealing with the aftermath of your coworker's incompetence. You're not entirely sure how they managed to corrupt the Excel formula you’d painstakingly inserted to make sure all the numbers add up correctly, but two hours later, you're still trying to get the data to compute properly.

It’s the kind of mind numbing task that lets your mind wander, and you spend most of that morning wondering what Miguel is up to. He’s probably lingering near the building, eating mini donuts by the dozens from that food truck that is always parked around the corner.

There’s a pointed series of knocks on your cubicle wall. The noise is grating, and it makes the whole of your back seize up because you recognize that signature knock from sound alone. It’s your boss, probably here to ask if you have capacity to take on more case evaluations.

And sure enough, as you reluctantly turn to look, you see her, toothy smile and all, looking down at you in that hammy and strained way of hers.

“Are you busy?” she asks. “I just wanted to introduce you to the newest member of the team.”

She gestures to the person standing beside her. Your gaze goes up over their insanely long legs, up and over the narrow and tapered waist and torso, up over the wide chest and broad, broad shoulders, and even before you get to the familiar face, you already know who you are looking at, because no one else is that tall.

Your mouth gapes open wide in shock.

This stupid motherf-

“This is Mickey O’Hara,” your boss introduces, simpering up at him. (You didn’t even know she knew how to simper.)

Has Miguel gone insane?

What is he playing at?!

He didn’t even bother to change his name properly!

And the man looks unfairly good in office casual! He’s dressed in a white, well-fitted button down shirt and dress pants. Wearing ridiculous thick-rimmed glasses that would belong on Gregory Peck. Riotous curls are as messy and wild as ever, not having even bothered to comb it back. You don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling, the subdued get-up only makes him stick out like a sore thumb.

“Mickey is our newest hire,” your boss continues, batting her eyes at him. “He's interning with our team as a junior insurance claims adjuster and will be shadowing you for the next two months.”

After that, Miguel truly is with you everywhere you go.

He spends most of each workday sitting on a spare chair in your small cubicle, the two of you squeezed into 6'x6', shoulder touching shoulder in that tiny, cramped space.

A superhero he may be, but Miguel is a terrible office worker. He seems completely bamboozled by the copier, and you quickly learn not to ask him to do any copying or scanning or even pick your printouts from the printer, because he always manages to mangle the process, coming back with crumpled up prints or half-shredded paper that looks like budget confetti.

Before the week is over, he’s gained a reputation with the rest of the team as the handsome-but-useless junior that can’t even make coffee for shit.

Most of the time, he doesn't even make an effort to look like he’s doing any actual work, just sits right next to you, and reads books all day long. When you scold him and ask him to at least pretend like he's doing busy work, or he'll get fired, Miguel will just shrug and quietly hum back at you, engrossed in whatever latest sci-fi book his nose is buried in.

"If they fire me, I'll just have Lyla hack into their HR system and rehire me."

Then there’s the way his sleeves are always rolled up halfway up his arm, hugging tight around the firm muscles of his forearm. The peep show of gorgeously tanned skin that is always on display for all to see. It's obscene.

He’s maddening and distracting.

Still, you can’t be too mad about his presence. The office is a much more treacherous place than you’d initially thought. It’s a danger zone of death traps.

One morning when you’re in the supply room, getting a new pad of post-its from one of the massive industrial shelves—the ones that are supposed to be bolted to the wall for safety—suddenly crumpled, taking half the wall with it and nearly flattening you. That was almost game over for you. Squashed like a bug and entombed under a pile of archived TPS reports.

Then there’s that time with the runaway elevator when the supposedly secure and unbreakable industrial cables snaps, with you in it, falling through 40 floors. And you still shudder everytime you walk past the copy machine because of that time it tried to electrocute you. If Miguel hadn’t been there for all of these incidents, you’d be a goner.

Another upside is that it’s also nice to have a cubicle buddy. On slow days, the two of you kill time watching YouTube origami tutorials and practicing with post-its stolen from the temporarily-relocated office supplies.

Despite having hands the size of a giant, Miguel is surprisingly good at it. Delicately folding paper cranes, butterflies and flowers that sit in the place of pride atop of your computer screen, compared to your questionable attempts that usually wind up in a crumpled ball in the trash.

With Miguel there, your days at the office are never boring or predictable in the way they used to be. It no longer feels like you are just going through motions. It's almost… fun.

If there wasn’t a cosmic executioner’s ax looming over your neck, you don’t think you would mind spending every day with him like this.

You take it back. You do mind spending days with him like this. Miguel is the worst.

You've been doing data entry all morning, and the man will not shut up about how primitive Excel is.

“Malo! I don’t understand how your company relies on this software. There are so many data consistency issues! It completely lacks data validation and integrity checks, and it’s too prone to human error when entering crucial data, which results in–”

You take deep calming breaths as you continue to type, trying to pretend his rant is white noise.

The previous day's near death experience—an electrical surge from the printer, trying to finish what the copy machine started—also wiped out one of the file servers, and now you and half your department are stuck manually re-entering three years worth of data.

Two hours in, your fingers are aching, and you're about ready to start banging your head on the keyboard out of frustration. (Or banging the keyboard on Miguel’s head if he doesn’t shut up.)

Like he can hear your thoughts, the man in question obligingly stops talking, and there’s a moment of blessed silence before your chair glides smoothly and suddenly to the left as Miguel rolls you out from in front of your computer. Your first instinct is to wonder what new danger he’s saving you from, but no… He’s just moving you out of the way to make space for him to drag his own chair in front of the screen. “Enough,” he says firmly, already typing out some unintelligibly complex code at a speed that far outstrips your own personal best of 67 words per minute, “I can’t watch you keep doing this when it’s so simple to automate.”

You sometimes forget just how smart Miguel is.

True, he can’t seem to work the office printer, but he’s a genius scientist who single-handedly built an A.I. sophisticated enough to hack into financial institutions and topple governments. He successfully invented a machine that travels between dimensions. Every other sentence coming out of his mouth sounds like something that would confound Stephen Hawking. You don’t know why you’re surprised he’s able to automate Excel spreadsheets.

It doesn’t take him very long at all.

Within minutes, he’s finished, hitting enter one final time, and then you can see all of the cells rectify themselves one by one. Errors disappear and new corrected information appears, data populating blank cells and aligning itself in tidy rows.

You lean in closer to get a better look. Your elbow snags the edge of your coffee cup and the cup topples over, splashing runaway hot coffee across your hand.

Before you have a chance to react, there’s a strong pull backwards. Miguel is already grabbing you and pulling you sideways into his lap and out of the firing range.

The cup clatters off the edge of the desk and onto the floor. The rest of the burning liquid never had the time to land on you.

Then you’re sitting on top of him, confined in the much too small seat of the office chair that can barely fit him and his broad backside, and much less the both of you. But if it’s uncomfortable, Miguel doesn’t show it. He takes your hand in his to inspect it carefully.

The patch of skin burns and stings, but you can’t tell if it’s from the coffee or his burning touch that makes you feel like there’s liquid fire simmering in your veins.

“You okay?” he says, his voice right in your ear.

He is so close. Surrounding you. Broad arms locked around your waist and the firm muscles of his thick thighs under yours.

“Yeah,” you manage, nodding slowly. Your tongue feels heavy and dry in your mouth.

He quietly drags your hand closer to his face, then blows on the back of your burnt knuckles to soothe the sting.

“Better?”

Those stunning eyes are staring into yours from inches away, cut cheeks right there, nose barely brushing against yours, and – god, is he close. Too close.

Miguel is always in close proximity to you these days. Never more than a couple yards away, but save for life or death situations, the two of you do not find yourself like this. He only ever holds you when you’re crashing through the skies or about to collide with a runaway vehicle. This is different somehow.

Your heart feels like a trapped bird in your chest, fluttering so fast and panicky it might burst from inside out at the proximity.

“I– um– ah…” You’re not saying any words, just making strange noises in your throat like a squawking bird.

Your eyes flicker away from his face avoidantly and from the corner of your eye, you spot Matt from accounting spying on you from the cubicle across.

Oh god. This probably doesn’t look great, does it?

You’re sitting on a co-worker’s lap in the middle of an open plan office. Compromising does not even begin to describe the position you two are in.

Jumping off his lap, you quickly stand up and turn away, trying to ignore the flustered heat in your cheeks.

You walk back over to your chair, about to sit yourself back down, but there’s spilled coffee everywhere. The dark brown liquid quickly sinking into the already stained fabric of the seat. You need to clean this up or else your chair is going to smell like expired coffee for the rest of time. Grabbing for your bag, you start digging for some tissues so you don't have to walk up to the supply closet.

You pull out item after item. Tampons. Sunglasses. A half-eaten chocolate bar. More tampons. New wallet with new ID, (expedited, all courtesy of Lyla). A handful of pennies. A random pamphlet. Still no tissues though, so you upend your bag onto your desk, wincing at the clatter.

How on Earth have you accumulated this much stuff in the few short weeks since your apartment was destroyed? And how on Earth do you not have any kleenex or napkins or anything in your handbag??

You paw through the mess, hoping for something useful, then swear as some of it spills over onto the floor. Ducking down, you crawl half under your desk, collecting wayward tampons and receipts, until your eyes pause on the pamphlet.

Not just any pamphlet. It’s yellow and bright with Whoopie Goldberg's face in the corner. It's the map you received from the fortune teller lady. One of your many misfires.

Now that you look closely at it, there are faint lines that seem to glow faintly in the dimness under your desk that weren't there when you were looking at it in plain daylight.

You pick it up and unfold it, laying it out on the floor. It looks like it’s been written on with some kind of a glow-in-the-dark marker, but it’s not dark enough for you to see clearly. You need to get somewhere darker to test your theory.

Backing out from under your desk, you get to your feet and head briskly off down the hall. You barely make it three steps before Miguel’s on your tail, his towering height blocking out the bright LED lamps above as he follows after you like the world’s biggest duckling.

“Cielo, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you murmur curtly under your breath. The heat from before is still riding persistently on your face, and you quicken your steps, hoping it doesn’t show.

You half run to the end of the hall until you reach the small supply closet. When you open the door to step inside, Miguel is right behind you, apparently trying to squeeze himself in after you.

"We won't both fit in here!" you scold as you close the door after you. His unhappy expression is the last thing you see as darkness envelops you in the pitch black.

There’s a niggling feeling of guilt that wiggles down into your skin. But you remind yourself that you can always steal cupcakes meant for clients from the conference room to make it up to him. All will be forgiven if you appease his sweet tooth.

Ducking your head to stare down at the map clutched in your hands, you squint your eyes in the dark to study it closely. There's a small star glowing bright in the middle of the map.

It's a literal star map.

She gave you a location.

You're standing in front of an old stone building at 177A Bleecker Street, smack in the middle of Greenwich village with its picturesque ivy covered old brownstone houses.

Then there's this monstrosity: Sanctum Sanctorum. The infamous residence of Dr. Strange.

The mansion is built in a mix of a Victorian and Gothic style as if the architect couldn't make up their mind and just decided 'why not both?' Throughout the rooftop, there are ornate carvings and intricate stonework that you suspect was meant to lend it a mysterious air, but instead the place reminds you of Disney’s Haunted Mansion ride attraction.

You bring up your hand to the old knocker, gripping it firmly. Your lungs tighten, breath constricting in your chest as you hesitate, unable to bring yourself to pull the brass down to make contact with the wooden front door. Instead you’re holding it still in the air.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all. How are you going to explain this?

‘The universe is out to get me, please send Avengers to help.’

Isn’t he just going to think you’re nuts? One of those delusional Supes-fan with munchausen syndrome?

"We can still leave," Miguel says.

The man's been protesting every step of the way here, buzzing in your head about how much of a bad idea this is.

You frown, turning around to him. "I want to do this,” you answer.

His continued opposition is the final push you need. You bring down the knocker against the front door and tap it repeatedly.

There's no answer.

Part of you has to fight the urge to turn your feet and flee, saving yourself the embarrassment. But before you do, there’s a loud creak and a heavy scraping noise against the entrance as the double door swings inwards and slowly opens.

No one greets you by the door. The entryway before you is empty, revealing a grand imperial staircase leading to the second floor, curving upward into a majestic spiral on each side of the room.

It looks deserted. It’d be impolite to just step inside without someone to greet you and explicitly invite you in. But the doors did open to let you in.

You look at Miguel, unsure of what to do, but the man does not have the same compunction for politeness that you do, he’s already walked in, shoes and all, straight into the main hall.

“Can we just get this over with without you making your usual stupid grand dramatic entrance?” Miguel says into the empty room seemingly to no one in particular and you don’t know who he thinks he’s talking to.

A ring of ember and fire sparks into existence out of nothingness in the center of the room. The ring grows wider, and you can see hints of another room inside of the circle: one decorated in a different decoration style than the current room you’re in: moroccan seats and plush cushions with oriental wooden carved furniture.

A man steps out from within that room to stand in front of you both. The ring of light closes behind him once he’s made it through. Clad in a rich purple tunic and dark robes that is monk-like in appearance. Miguel steps in front of you, tucking you safely behind him.

"You're not Strange," Miguel sneers, and you want to smack him. Why does he always have to be this rude?

"Oh, I'm quite strange. But I am not the Doctor. I am Wong. I’m the Sorcerer Supreme and guardian of this place." The man’s voice is calm and formal, and he holds himself with a stately manner as he speaks.

You pop out your head from behind Miguel’s side. "We’re here to see Doctor Strange."

At the repeated mention of Strange, the man’s formality seems to fall away, an expression of irritation bleeding into his features.

"Let me know when you find him. Because he is not here."

"Where is he?" Miguel asks, and there’s that contempt rumbling in his voice again.

"I do not know. Probably playing hooky again. The man comes and goes as he likes." Wong makes a muttering noise under his breath as he continues. "Treats this sacred place like a summer gig at McDonalds."

Your chest deflates. How are you supposed to get Dr. Strange to help you if he’s not even here?

"I need help,” you plead with Mr. Wong. Maybe he can help you if Dr Strange can’t, he is the Sorcerer Supreme after all, supreme is the highest level, right? This might even be an upgrade from Strange. “I know this sounds crazy, but I think the universe is out to get me."

Wong just looks at you, expression unchanging, and okay, yeah, that was maybe not the best place to start. You take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to make yourself sound less paranoid.

"I've almost died 40 times since the beginning of the summer. I just want to know why this keeps happening and how to make it stop."

You dig into your bag, pulling out the folded map.

"We talked to a fortune teller in Chinatown, and she gave me this map. It led us here, and I'm really, really hoping you can help me."

Wong dips his head down to the map, "This is a celebrity home star map," he says, with a straight face and a neutral voice that only slightly betrays that he thinks you're batshit crazy.

“I know it sounds crazy, but-”

“Sanctum Sanctorum opened its doors for you, which means it wanted me to meet with you. I believe what you’re telling me.”

Oh thank god.

You tell him everything, rambling on as you try to explain what’s been happening and what little you know about it as best you can. The near death experiences, Miguel being a Spiderman from another dimension, the destruction of your apartment, the unnatural phenomena and the universe’s escalating attempts on your life.

Wong is quiet throughout, studying your face with grave concentration as you speak.

When you’re finally done, he sighs with deep weariness that emanates from the core of his soul. He looks down on his feet, tapping them in deep consideration.

"I have an idea,” Wong says cautiously, “I could perform a Multiversal Divination on you, that might give us a clearer idea of what we’re dealing with,”

“What does that mean?” Miguel asks, anger vibrating off his skin and boiling in his tone.

This man needs to calm down. You clearly need to take him to anger management, because since the moment he’s stepped into this place he’s been on the edge (even more so than usual).

“What does a ‘Multiversal Divination’ entail?” he continues, “Is that some magical mumbo jumbo that’s going to hurt her? Because if so we’re not–”

“I’ll do it,” you say, interrupting his objections, and you sidestep Miguel who is scowling, mouth already parted in yet another protest, to stand in front of Wong.

Wong looks to you and then Miguel, then back at you again, caught in the awkward stalemate, before you interrupt.

“Please, I need answers. Whatever it is, if it might help, I want to do it.”

Wong nods, stepping closer to you. "This will feel a little bit strange," he warns with the bedside manner of a patient doctor.

His hand comes to your collarbone and he places his palm there with a gentle push. There is barely any effort put into it, but you feel the force of it as if you had been slammed with the full force of a six ton truck. Your body wants to leap out of its skin. It is the sensation of being dumped in cold water from head to toe. A shock runs through your entire nervous system.

Images flash before your eyes, flickering by too fast for you to process. They’re vivid and bright. Glimpses of a scene: your apartment, your work, your commute home. Each of them expiring in a fraction of a moment before you have a chance to latch on and make sense of any of them individually.

You see yourself in picture after picture. Except slightly different in each. Short hair. Long locks. Curly.

In some you're wearing glasses instead of the contact lenses that you usually use. In others, you’re sporting the piercing you wanted to get at 16 but never did. Sometimes you have tattoos, sometimes not; occasionally you’re covered in them. Dyed hair, in every color of the spectrum: pink, blue, purple. A myriad of versions of you, of every variation of the decisions you could have possibly taken in your life.

There are pictures of memories you have had and not had. They rush in and flee before you're able to grab hold of one.

Captured moments of lifetimes you have never lived.

It's overwhelming. You don't understand what you're seeing. There’s pandemonium inside your head.

Then everything slows to a crawl.

The scene unfolding before you is one that you immediately recognize. An image that you'll never forget.

Window after window after window flashing you by. You know this view. Have seen it twice before. The same view of the Chrysler building as you were falling. But it's different this time.

The sky isn’t blue, nor is it gray. It’s a pink and an abnormal purple, a color you’ve never seen on it before and it looks both beautiful and completely wrong. There’s an angry tear in the sky, cracking at the edges with static. The whole of the sky looks like it is going to cleave in two and bring the whole world with it. Is this the future? Is it the past?

There's no pain, but somehow tears run down your cheeks uncontrollably.

In the distance you hear Miguel's voice, muted even though you know from that tone that he's furious and must be bellowing loud enough that it echoes through the walls. It sounds like you are underwater, and you have to strain to make out what he is saying.

"Why is she crying?" He's definitely shouting, voice raw and growling. Is this part of your memory or is it happening in the now? "You're hurting her."

The ground approaches.

"Stop! Stop!" Miguel's voice is shouting, but there's no way to stop this. Everything is going too fast this time around.

Miguel is here, tearing through the sky towards you. But you know it's too late. He's too far away. He can't save you this time.

Then everything does stop.

No images in your head. No noise in your ears.

Everything goes black, like the ending of a movie.

Then you hear a thud.

It's loud and close and real.

You snap yourself out of your fugue state, to see Miguel towering over Wong's body where the Sorcerer Supreme lies, limp and lifeless on the ground.

“What did you do!? Are you out of your mind?" you shout, running up to them.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Wong isn’t moving, not even blinking!

"He was hurting you!" Miguel roars.

"He wasn't hurting me, you big doofus!" you shout back, and it’s only then that the fury in Miguel’s eyes seem to abate.

"What's wrong with him?” you ask, bending down Wong’s limp body on the ground. “Is he dead!? Did you kill him?” There's a rising panic pushing inside your throat.

"He's just paralyzed."

"He’s para– What do you mean paralyzed? What did you do to him?"

"I just... I bit him," he uses a finger to part his lips slightly, pushing the upper one up just enough to reveal the sharp edges of his fangs. "There's toxins in them that can have a paralyzing effect."

You glance back at Wong. He’s still worryingly still.

“Is there some kind of way to un-paralyze him!?"

"It was just a small bite," Miguel says, ducking his head down sheepishly to stare at the floor, like a scolded boy. "I didn’t use that much venom... It’ll wear off. He shouldn't be out long. Maybe half an hour or so."

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry,” you tell Wong fervently, hovering over him. You can see his eyes tracking yours and the rise and fall of his chest, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the proof that he’s still alive. “Do you, um… Do you want me to help you up?”

“He’s not gonna want to move for a few more minutes,” Miguel interjects from behind you. “Moving will be incredibly painful until the venom wears off the rest of the way”.

What the actual fuck!?

You throw a glare at Miguel, as you loop an arm under Wong’s waist, “Well help me move him so he can be more comfortable.”

At your command, Miguel helps you prop the man up against the wall in what is (hopefully) a more comfortable position, and then you sit next to each other and wait.

"I can't believe you bit the Sorcerer Supreme," you mutter under your breath. “Miguel, you can’t just–” you cut yourself off, too frustrated to find the proper words.

"I'm sorry,” he says, grimacing at your scolding, looking regretful for once as he ducks down his gaze. “You looked like you were in pain".

Your anger subsides, if only slightly at his repentance.

“It still doesn’t make it okay. You can’t just attack someone like that! He was trying to help us.”

He doesn’t say anything more to that, just stares down at his feet in contrition.

The two of you sit in the silence.

Your mind goes back to the surreal experience you just had. The myriad of thousands if not millions of images that were flashing through your mind at the speed of light.

The warped shape of your world, the jarring images of it distorted and wrong, as it started to collapse.

Miguel had said that didn’t he? That the universe was going to ramp up its game and if it didn’t succeed, it would eventually self-destruct in its mission to get you.

It takes 26 minutes. The first sign that the toxins are wearing off is that Wong is able to wiggle his toes. His recovery accelerates after that, he's able to move his fingers, then the muscles in his face until he's able to form a grimace. He doesn't look happy, and you don't blame him.

After another five minutes or so, he's able to speak again.

"Strange way of expressing gratitude, literally biting the hand that helps you."

You get up on your feet to help Wong, and Miguel moves next to you.

“No, you stay there! Don’t move,” you order, and even though he scowls, Miguel complies.

You hunch over next to Wong, and help him sit fully upright. He stays seated, but dusts his robe off from the caked soot and fine layers of dirt.

“This has happened in other dimensions,” Wong tells you. “And if we don’t stop it, our universe will be destroyed.”

“How do we stop it?” you ask.

“The universe wants you dead. It won’t stop until it achieves its goal.”

Your stomach drops.

“So in order for this to stop… I need to die?”

There’s a look of barely contained fury burning in Miguel’s red eyes that seems to vibrate out of his skin and pounce. But he doesn't, this time he remains in place, visibly restraining himself, still following your orders.

“There is that option, or you will need to find the reason for why it wants to kill you. And you need to find it soon, because you don’t have a lot of time left. You will have even less time once the people of this world realize the threat you present to the continued integrity of this universe.”

“Are you threatening her!?” Miguel demands, and somehow even though you didn’t hear him move, he’s right behind you, red eyes glowing, shoulders rising, looming over Wong, ready to cut him down at any further hints that the man might be a threat to your safety.

Wong doesn't seem deterred in the slightest.

You have to give it to the Sorcerer Supreme. He's a brave one. It took you weeks before you stopped being intimidated by the man, and Miguel’s never bitten you.

“I am only telling you what the universe tells me. And it tells me that you do not belong here at all. The universe thinks neither of you belong here.”

You think back on fortune teller's drawing of the poorly drawn circle and stickfigure of you that’s speared with arrows.

"What if we went… somewhere else?" Miguel asks.

For the first time since he entered this house, his tone is no longer dripping with anger. “What if we left this universe and dimension?”

The image of white blankness enters your mind at his words. You shudder at the reminder. The cold numbness of the void and the sensation of nothingness. Dread fills your veins. A cold clammy sweat flashes hot and cold against your skin at the memory.

Wong tilts his head up in deep consideration. “That might work. This universe would slowly return to equilibrium with her gone. But… This will just start again in any new Universe. Most likely she wouldn’t be able to stay. She might have to leave every dimension she's in for the rest of her natural lifespan. A life spent always on the run.”

Wong pauses as he glances over to you with sympathy and concern in his gaze. “Is that something you would want?”

What is the alternative here? To lie down and die?

“Yes.”

“One month’s time, you need to find a way to leave this dimension before then.”

Back at your hotel that evening, you wake up to the sound of distress. Muffled whimpers and quiet moans.

By habit, your eyes roam the room, seeking out Miguel in the dark. He’s lying on the sofa from across the room and even in this distance you can make out that his body is writhing beneath the covers. But you’re groggy and too sleep-drunk to make sense of what you’re hearing or seeing.

There’s murmured noises from him, and it takes you far too long to understand what’s going on.

He’s having a nightmare.

Tugging off the blanket on top of you, you get up and scoot over to the end of the bed over to him. Miguel looks like he’s in pain. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he tosses and turns, face pinched in pain and distress. Now that you’re closer, you can make out words in the sounds he’s making.

“Quiero quedarme contigo. No te vayas, no te vayas,” he keeps murmuring.

He looks exhausted. Which, of course he is. He's been on constant alert trying to protect you. Fighting off supernatural weather phenomena, blocking hazardous furniture and fighting off charging hippos out of nowhere. Of course he's worn out.

“Shhhh, It’s alright.” you whisper to him, reaching out to gently stroke his arm, attempting to soothe him. “It’s okay.”

He groans unhappily in his sleep, burying his head into the cushion.

“Quiero quedarme conti–”

"Hey, hey, Miguel,” you tap insistently at his shoulder now. If you can’t soothe the nightmare away, then maybe you can at least wake him up out of it, “It's okay. Wake up."

This time his eyes slam open, wide with adrenaline and shock, and he shoots upright, head whipping from side to side as he scans the room. Every inch of him prepared to leap into a fight.

“What’s wrong? What’s–”

“You were having a nightmare,” you explain to him.

He stiffens at that, dropping his eyes to stare down at his lap unhappily.

“Shit, did I wake you?” he runs a hand over his face, then lays back down, “Sorry.”

Silence blankets the two of you, and you don’t know what else to say to him. Except just that you want him to be able to rest–truly rest–after the day, week and month you’ve both had. You don’t want him to have to go back to snatching moments of troubled, uncomfortable sleep on that stupid, too-small couch.

“You could come sleep on the bed with me,” you offer, “That couch is nowhere near big enough for you.”

"It's fine," he mutters, "It's been fine the last month, and it's fine now."

"It's not though. You're clearly not sleeping well. I should have asked you before. I'm surprised your back isn't already killing you—that sleeping position looked painful."

His head darts down, eyeing his own spread legs that are sticking out into the empty air from the bottom of the couch. But he doesn't concede the point.

"Please?" you try again, "It will make me feel better."

Apparently all you needed to do was ask, because Miguel immediately complies like your request was a decree. He gets up, pulling the quilt with him, his mop of curls in adorable disarray as he drags his feet over to the other side of the bed and flops down with a loud thump that makes the whole mattress bounce underneath you.

You can feel the pull of the sheets where his legs threaten to brush up against your bent knees, and you're beginning to realize you didn't think this through. Even in the big bed, there's only so much space, and he seems to be taking up most of it.

He's close, and you can't seem to peel your eyes away from the strong line of his throat. Can't help the way your body reacts. Your pulse starts to race, heart kicking up hard and fast against your ribs.

Miguel turns around to observe you with narrowed eyes. “You okay?”

Shit! Did he hear you? That timing was too on the nose. You nod at him a little bit too frantically and you sound high-pitched and skittish even to your own ears.

“Yes of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your heart is beating really fast.”

Fuck. He could hear you. Of course he can, he has super hearing powers doesn’t he?

“I’m just tired,” you stammer out, wrapping the blanket close to your chest for layers as a shield from his super hearing.

Miguel doesn’t push it. He turns back around, letting his head drop down the pillow.

The distance between you has been growing smaller and smaller with each passing day together and you think you have been crossing an invisible line that you shouldn’t be crossing as of late.

You think of the closeness of him in the office, the weight of his arms on your waist as he held you in his lap. His eyes on you. The bare skin of his broad back casually revealed to you when he was changing. The same back that you find yourself staring up at in this moment.

“Go to sleep,” Miguel rasps from your side, and you nearly jump out of your skin in surprise.

You close your eyes, but somehow in the dark you become even more keenly aware of his presence in the bed with you. Your heart seems to skip a little bit faster as the seconds pass, each beat a little bit harder.

There's a quiet sigh, then a much louder exhale, as he turns back towards you in bed.

"What's wrong?" His voice is still gruff with sleep.

"I can’t fall asleep,” you say, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. “Can you talk? It might help me sleep."

He snorts with a laugh. The sound of it makes something pleasant skitter up the length of your spine. He's got a nice laugh. It's a shame he doesn't laugh often.

"What's so funny?"

"No, nothing. Just... some things never change." Even in the dim of the unlit room, you can see the smile on his lips.

"What do you want me to talk to you about?" he asks.

You tilt your head, considering it. Miguel rarely gives you a carte blanche to ask him for information. Logically, you should use this moment to seize a tactical advantage and ask him for all the salacious details that you know he’s been keeping from you. But as you wrack your brain for questions, the only ones that come to mind are disappointingly ordinary. You just want to know more about him. Small, silly, personal details, the way he seems to know everything about you.

"Tell me about where you're from," you request, "Your dimension. Your hometown."

He shifts on the bed, lying flat on his back until he’s staring up at the ceiling with you as he reminisces.

"It's called Nueva York. It's significantly more technologically advanced than this dimension. Definitely cleaner. People aren't as big of assholes as they are here. Public hygiene is way better, everything doesn’t reek of piss. Oh, and there’s not a rat epidemic in the public transportation system there."

His head turns to his side to look at your face, and he gives you a small mischievous grin as he continues. "Food is healthier. You don't get junk food there."

The words should be complimentary, but from his tone of voice and what you know of his eating habits, you think it’s probably a win for your dirty, rat-infested dimension.

"Lots of skyscrapers and neon-lights everywhere. It's colorful."

He pauses, as if he's struggling to find anything more to say about the place. Then his head tips to the side, meeting your eyes, and his gaze is soft.

“I'll take you there," he promises, voice quiet and warm and it makes something sweet and honeyed trickle inside your veins pleasantly.

“How?” you wonder.

His smile drops, replaced by an unhappy frown. “Not sure yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Can’t we just open up a portal like last time?”

He shakes his head.

"The last time I took you through the portal, it was meant to take us back to my dimension. But I built the parallel universe traversal device to transport me—and only me—through the multiverse."

He reaches out to you, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. The contact makes your skin tingle, but you don’t pull away.

"I wasn't thinking last time. We can’t take the risk of winding up back in the void.”

He’s mumbling now, nearly asleep. His eyes half-shut as he blinks slowly, struggling to keep them open as he slowly blinks.

"Someone that disappears in the void, they'll be erased from existence and out of every timeline. No one will ever remember you or know you existed. It's as if you've never existed at all."

You eye the watch on your wrist. The slight sheen of the bed light reflecting against the shiny glass.

"Can we modify the watch?"

"Firstly, not a watch", he reminds you by rote as he fluffs up his pillow with his arm.

"And second..." he pauses, eyes drifting up to study the ceiling before he shakes his head, "I've tried. It doesn’t work. The power source isn’t powerful and your world is not technically advanced enough for me to build an upgraded self-sustaining fusion power source that would be needed. It’s how we ended up in the void.”

Worry burrows into your chest, and your gaze drops down from his face. It always feels like you’re taking one step forward and ending up two steps back. Futile and hopeless but that’s what you get for trying to fight against the will of the universe.

"Go to sleep," he says again, his hand coming to rest gently on top of your head, "I'll figure it out, don't worry.”

You smile, warmed by the comforting gesture and his reassurance.

“I won't let you get hurt this time."

…‘this time.’

The promise cuts through you like glass. Sharp and jagged and clawing its way into your chest until it hurts you to breathe.

Miguel is talking to you, but you don’t think it’s you he’s thinking of when he says the words.

He attacked Wong without a second of hesitation when he thought you were hurt. He's exhausting himself half to death to protect you. But you know that he’s not really doing any of this for you.

It’s not your comfort he was thinking of when he cradled your burnt hand and gently blew on your fingers. It’s not your love of egg tarts that makes him save the flaky pastries for you when the two of you go out for dinner. It’s not you—has never been you—that he’s seeing whenever his eyes linger on your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

You're riding on the emotional coattails of the other you. The unwavering loyalty that he had for her has transferred to you now that she's gone.

He must have really loved her.

There’s a sharp fissure in your chest, and you try to swallow down the thistle of needles that’s found its way into your throat, only to discover that your saliva tastes sour and bitter.

Closing your eyes, you can see an image of yourself smiling with him, laughing with him, holding his hand. Except it’s not you.

It’s her.

Other-you, with the wedding band and the happy life and– And somehow better hair too, the lucky bitch!

Except… she wasn't lucky, was she? She's dead.

She’s dead, and you still resent her for what she had with Miguel. It's such an ugly feeling.

You squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, but the image doesn’t go away. Nor does that acrid taste in your mouth. You can't help it. This irrational and childish madness is eating into the edges of your mind. You're envious of your other self.

God that’s fucked up.

Does someone like you even deserve to be saved at all?

~ Next Issue

Credits & Dedications: To @thirstworldproblemss for all the rubberducking we do together on this silly little story. Thank you so much for sitting with me and making this fun! I love you 234238472938492374923 x infinity and back again.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifs.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

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vettelsvee · 16 days

Text

... READY FOR IT? | Charles Leclerc

MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT REPUTATION ⋆ TRACK 1

charles leclerc x reader ⋆ smau

summary: y/n finally decides she’s ready to make her relationship with charles public even people just hate her so much for her past dating other f1 drivers.

taglist: [@celemilii @theseerbetweenus @anniee-mr @stelena-klayley @lozzamez3 @0710khj @afterg1ows @vincentvanshoe @coco-loco-nut @minkyungseokie @lemon-lav @stinkyjax @seokjinkismet @c-losur3 @annewithaneofthegreengable @khaylin27] thanks to all of you who wanted to be tagged! don't forget you can join my taglist by commenting or telling me through dm <3

a/n: i was supposed to start posting this on june 1st, but since we reached 500 followers here i wanted to start posting as a "celebration". i really don't like thinking about thing kind of things BUT i thought this was a special occasion, especially since you've received me really well here. thank you so much to you all who take time to read my works! i've never thought someone would read what i write tbh this is my very first smau so sorry if it's a little bit crap, i promise to improve for the next ones 🙏

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

y/n just posted

y/n we're sooooo back on track (for the third time, yes! idgaf what you all have to say 🥰)

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 376193 others

user1 wait wasn't she dating mick schumacher? what is she doing in the ferrari garage?

user2 that was during 2021 season. she broke up with him and then started dating lando back in july 2022 if i remember correctly

f1gossip yep! in 2021 she dated mick, in 2022, lando, and now seems like she put her eyes on one of the ferrari guys 👀

user3 what a bitch. she's fucking everyone to get fame or...?

yourbestfriend go on girlie! show your amour your support 😌

y/n yourbestfriend what a stupid action... fuck you

user4 y/n are you going home? because that's what you should be doing lol

user5 guys I know that y/n might not be a piece of cake for everyone, but PLEASE, respect her

user7 exactly this!

charles_leclerc ❤️

user10 charles explain?

user11 wdym A READ HEART

user12 she might be dating charles omg

carlossainz55 happy to have you finally here! ❤️🙌🏻

user13 NOW CARLOS? WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY GUYS? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

comments on this post have been limited

y/n just posted

y/n since you seem so interested, yep: i'm on the ferrari garage f1 are you spilling the tea? cos I'm not. xoxo, your friendly neighborhood wag

comments on this post have been disabled

y/n just posted

y/n i was scared af to tell you that french dude and i've been dating for the past seven months. you can call me whore or whatever you want because at this point i don't really care about anything. it's been a wild ride with me feeling soooo uncomfortable with you commenting every now and then about my past relationships. i love mick and i love lando, but sometimes things don't work out, and you don't seem to understand that. anyways, all I have to say is that charles makes me the happiest woman on earth, and that we don't apologize for winning ❤️💋

comments have been disabled

charles_leclerc just posted

charles_leclerc life in these past seven months has been insane. y/n, bet your ready for more but... are you ready for it?

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc smau #smau #f1 smau #f1 fic #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fic #cl16 #ferrari #my tortured drivers department #f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc x you #taylor swift #reputation #ready for it

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ryeriy · 24 days

Text

slipping through my fingers | lewis hamilton

-> summary: Lewis is watching is daughter slip away through his fingers

-> pairings: dad!lewis hamilton x mom!reader

-> a/n: this was a really cute idea in my head but I hope it turns out okay 😭

mamma mia series

join my taglist

navigation post

15 years ago, January 29th

It was just a few hours ago that little Savanna was born into this world. She had already been adored by both of her parents that loved her so much in these first few hours.

"She's quite cute isn't she?" Lewis said while looking down at the baby girl in his arms. Savanna was swaddled in blankets and being held by her father. Y/n looked over at Lewis as he held their newborn daughter. Even though y/n was very tired, she couldn't help but to slightly smile.

"Probably gets that from me." Y/n let out a soft laugh. Lewis laughed too.

"I couldn't agree more with that one," Lewis smiled at the baby in his arms that's his.

He couldn't believe that something this perfect and tiny was his. He has a child now and if felt so unreal to him still. It felt like to him it was only yesterday she was showing him the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, now he was holding his baby girl in his hands.

"I wish I could just freeze this moment and treasure it, it's so peaceful."

"Me too..." y/n agreed.

Y/n looked over at Lewis holding their daughter smiling at the sigh of it. They're finally a family after nine whole months of waiting. Their lives couldn't have been any better.

10 years ago, September 1st

"Okay, do you have everything you need Savanna?" Y/n asks as she grabs her daughter's Hello Kitty backpack, putting it onto her back.

The five-year-old nods her head and looks up at her mom. "Yes, mommy, you asked me that before we left the house too!" Savanna giggled in response. "I know, I'm just making sure!" Y/n smiled at her daughter and pulled out her phone from her pocket.

Lewis was standing next to y/n looking at Savanna and smiling at her. He leaned down to kiss her head and ran a hand through her hair. Savanna clung to Lewis hugging him.

"Okay fine...just one more picture though!" Y/n let out a soft laugh opening her camera.

"Mommy! I've got to go!" Savanna giggled again putting a smile on her face. She pulled away from Lewis standing in front of both of her parents.

"Just one more hug?" Y/n asked looking at Savanna getting down to her level to hug. Savanna ran up into her mother's arms embracing her mom. Y/n kissed her forehead and smiled at her. "Okay, okay! Just have fun and we'll pick you up after school?"

"We can even go for ice cream later!" Lewis exclaimed as he kneeled in front of Savanna. Both of them were smiling ear to ear pulling her into a tight hug.

"Yay!" Savanna exclaimed wrapping her arms around Lewis' neck.

Savanna pulled away one last time and looked around seeing other kids laughing and playing. She looked eager to go meet new kids and looked back up at her parents. Lewis and Y/n were standing next to each other. Lewis had his arm wrapped around y/n as they both had their eyes on Savanna. "Go, go have fun!" Lewis said to her and y/n smiled.

Savanna smiled at them and ran off to the entrance of the school where the other kids were. She turned around looking back at her parents, waving to them. "Bye, mommy! Bye, daddy!" She smiled and ran up to a group of kids.

Lewis and Y/n waved back and softly smiled at Savanna. They couldn't believe that she was growing up so fast. It was their daughter's first day of school and she wasn't looking back and rethinking.

8 years ago, July 25th

"You'll do great, sweetheart," Lewis hugged Savanna.

Today was Savanna's first big gymnastics competition. She's had competition before but nothing this big. There were so many other girls her age competing. It was quite intimidating, especially for a seven-year-old girl. Lewis and y/n would be there though to support their daughter even if they had to watch her from afar, they were still supporting her.

"You promise?" Savanna looked up into her father's eyes.

"I promise you, me and mom are going to be in the stans cheering you on the entire time, okay?" Lewis comforted her. He gently brushed a strand of curly hair out of her face.

Savanna hugged Lewis and y/n with a wide smile on her face. She took her water bottle and her bag with her and ran off to go with her team. Lewis held onto her hand until she started to turn away from him. Both parents were proud of their daughter and how far she's come along.

Savanna placed fourth overall in her events. Even though she didn't get first place, she still got a medal and a proud smile on her face.

"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy! Daddy!" The little girl came rushing up to her parents smiling at them. Savanna barely had her bag on her back and her water bottle hanging her tiny fingers. "Look! Look! I got a medal!"

"Oh, look at that!" Lewis looked at her and hugged her tightly. He placed a kiss on her forehead. "You did really good sweetheart."

"We're so proud of you, baby!" Y/n said as she looked at her daughter and smiled.

"Can we get some ice cream now?" Savanna looked up at Lewis and y/n with puppy dog eyes.

"Yes, we can go get ice cream now," y/n laughed softly and kissed her daughter's head.

Savanna smiled widely and let out a giggle. She was so excited to go get ice cream after a well-deserved day full of gymnastics. "Yay!"

Present Day, January 29th

"Happy birthday dear Savanna, Happy birthday to you! Blow out your candles, sweetheart."

Y/n smiled as she took a photo of Savanna, who was sitting in front of her cake with fifteen lighten candles on top of it. Lewis was next to y/n smiling at his daughter as blew out all fifteen of the candles on top.

"God, you're so old now!" Y/n joked as she smiled and looked at Lewis and Savanna.

"It's like yesterday you were in my arms for the first time and your mom was fawning all over you!" Lewis laughed and so did y/n while Savanna cringed.

"You guys are acting like it's a big deal, I'm only fifteen!" Savanna said as she looked at her parents.

Only fifteen.

That was the only thing Lewis could think of. He didn't realize it but his little girl was growing up right in front of him. He remembered thinking back on the day she was first born, when he said to y/n, "I wish I could just freeze this moment and treasure it, it's so peaceful." He wishes he still could.

#ryeriy #ryeriys blog #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #mamma mia #slipping through my fingers

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if-whats-new · 4 days

Text

What's New In IF? Issue 6 (2024)

By Erika, Marjorie, Axelle, and Noi

Now Available!

Itch.io - Google Drive - Keep Reading below

Did you know that you can learn a neat fun fact about IF on the itch.io version?

EDITORIAL

Not a content machine…

Though we manage to fill our pages with many projects appearing on the scene or updating regularly, it is important to remember that creators are not content machines.

They are like you and us: people, with ups and downs, with period of great productivity and creative struggles, with life affecting all of it. They put a lot of effort into making really cool stories (and most of them as a hobby!), so much more than we do with this!

And they share with us this labor of sweat, blood, tears and love, with little in return: a sign that someone played their project and enjoyed it.

Whether it is a quiet like or rating, a loud review or comment, a simple share (that can trickle away towards new eyes), or even a few coins their way, there are many ways we can tell them:

We see you, and we appreciate you.

Let's try to do this more, yeah?

We hope you enjoy this issue!

ERIKA, MARJORIE, AXELLE, AND NOI

EVENTS

CONFERENCE

You can now register for the Narrascope! It is happening June 21-23, in hybrid. They've also released the schedule of talks!

ONGOING (VOTING)

The voting period for the Text Adventure Literacy Jam ends in less than a week. The competition is looking for beginner players!

ONGOING (SUBMITTING)

If Spanish is in your wheelhouse, the Spanish IFComp (Rayuela) is currently ongoing! You can submit a game until the end of June, with the themes Es un sólo botón and/or Conexión.

Also ongoing is the ParserComp, which are looking for parser games, both with a classic feel or a more experimental approach.

If you are looking to make a Visual Novel, the Otome Jam will be looking for entries until July 1st.

🔥 Fuck Capitalism Jam 2024 🔥 is also a fun jam to participate in, and ends in a short week! (We know it's not technically IF, but they took IF entries before)

Today ends the REALLY BAD IF JAM, hosted on itch.io, where the goal is to make bad art (IF-style).

A Visual Novel focused version, “Worst Ever VN“ Challenge, will still accept entries until next week..

ENDED

The Locus Jam (@neointeractives)ended this week, with 15 short games! All entries were only allowed one location!.

There were also two entries that came out of the Text-Based Game/Visual Novel Jam, which you can find on itch.io.

The Narrative Design Award competition has just ended, with 26 entries with nautical themes.

OTHER

The Interactive Fiction Showcase is still running, with new submissions, since last week! It is happening on itch!

GAMES

NEW RELEASE

Do you like Call of Duty? A short fanfic in the CYOA format can be played on Tumblr. (@gauloiseblue)

Juniper's Under Story (Ren’Py) is a short beautiful slice-of-life visual novel. (@romanhyacinths)

The Final Song (Twine) is an educational historical fiction story set on the last days of the Siege of Leningrad.

Power Quest (Twine) is a short educational piece about renewable energy.

Don't forget about the cool games released in the events mentioned in the previous pages!

NEW RELEASE (WIP)

A Twisted Wonderland fanfic interactive project where your choice can affect the story is ongoing on Tumblr. (@sanalang-ao33)

Blackwood Manor (CScript) is a dark Victorian mystery project, where you play as the new Housekeeper of strange noble siblings. (@ang3lwithapen)

GAMES UPDATES

Thicker Than (CScript) has updated, passing the 300k total words mark. (@barbwritesstuff)

The Lonely Shore (CScript) has released an update with more activities. (@thelonelyshore-if)

Spellbound (CScript) is another project that passed the 300k total words mark.

Life as a Lich (CScript) is looking for testers ahead of release.

First Bull Run (CScript) has updated.

A Dance with the Devil (CScript) has updated its demo.

The Ultimate Magic Student (CScript) added over 30k words of content.

Core Uprising (CScript) completed a route.

My One and Only (CScript) has updated. (@reds-corner)

Aquarii (Twine) added Chapter 2. (@aquarii-if)

Valiant (Twine) has updated Chapter 2. (@valiant-if)

The Thousand of Us (CScript) added more content to the demo. (@ivanwm-05)

The Mouth of Elysium (Twine) has released its demo. (@blood-teeth)

Our Life: Now and Forever (Ren’Py) has updated its demo. (@gb-patch)

Mission Light (Twine) has released its demo, currently a prologue. (@mission-light-if)

Crash Course in You (Twine) released the rest of its First Chapter. (@fakeyellow)

Everbloom (CScript) has been fully released for free. (@darielivalyen)

Skin and Scales (Twine) has added Chapter 2 to its demo. (@skinandscales-if)

The Reaper Watches Me (Twine) also added its second chapter. (@thereaperwatchesme)

Dragon of Steelhorne 2 (CScript) is opening a private beta head of an IFComp release.

Blood Legacies (CScript) has almost doubled the wordcount of the demo. (@bloodlegacies)

Sense and Sorcery (CScript) has added new routes.

OTHER

Kit, author of The Nothern Passage (@northern-passage), is setting up a charity raffle for Palestine and looking for creators and artists for prizes.

The Neo-Interactive (@neointeractives) group has announced their Neo-Twiny Jam will raise money for LBGTQ+ causes through donations and submissions (announcement).

BLESS (Blood+Flesh+Soul) is turning into a Kinetic Novel. (@mahadeoh-blog)

Fields of Asphodel (CScript) has been submitted to Hosted Games. The demo is not available anymore. (@chrysanthemumgames)

We apologize if we missed an update or a release. We are but volunteers trying to find as much info as possible, but sometimes news pass through the cracks.

Please, let us know if something should have been added to the zine, and we will shout it out next week!

HIGHLIGHT ON...

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

Ascendance by Ascendance-if (@ascendance-if - Twine)

“Well, it's cool because there are really nice side character friends and those moments with them were absolutely lovely. Also, the premise of the story of being a creature who had experienced various lifetimes as different species in different worlds and having met and interacted with the LIs and be able to still reconnect with them no matter who or what you were and are is lovely as well.”

submitted by FeveredRain

Posey Picks and the Bus Stop by indooranimal (@derekachoy - Phaser)

“Such a cute VN. It's like giving a heartbalm after playing really dark stuff. It's so silly and the endings are so funny, but I like it a lot. And it's like surprising large and branching for a VN. You should play it.”

submitted by Isaac

The Impossible Bottle by Linus Åkesson (Dialog)

“Truly one of the best parser I have ever played. A magical experience where I didn't feel frustrated once. I am in awe of how accessible it was for a (then) non-parser player (click to action). And the twist… … so so cool. Best winner of the IFComp for sure.”

recommended by Eric

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserve some highlighting? Tell us about it! A old or recent game that wowed you so much you want to spam it to everyone? Tell us about it!

We'll add it to the page!

FINAL WORD

Before we end this issue, we would like to thank:

@elegantunknownphantom, Eric, FeveredRain, Isaac, and a couple of anonymous users!

Your shared news, helpful tips, cool links, filled form, written Sheet line, sent emails… all these little attentions toward the Zine help us so much!

We also would like to thank all of you who told us of cool recs that didn't appear this edition. We'll try out best to fit them in next week!

And a final thank to all of you who not only read our zine, but liked it, shared it with others, left a little sweet reply or dm, or even rated it on itch! Those little bits of support really help us so much!! Thank you for cheering us on this journey!

As a final parting word, we thought of bringing back this little challenge for you all:

If you enjoy a game or a project, or if you admire an author and their work, try to send them a little message of appreciation this week. A little comment or rating for their game, a compliment in their askbox/dm, gushing in the tags of a reblog or in a review…

Spread the kindness!

See you again next week!

ERIKA, MARJORIE, AXELLE, AND NOI

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 6

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dottybot · 10 months

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Lost housing and almost killed by our landlords

(Twice)

C*sh app: $dottybot

V*nmo: @dottybot

@translesbo's Paypal: [email protected]

My partner, @translesbo, and I after signing a lease, were put through 2 big gas leaks during times we had planned on and had been close to sleeping in the apartment. The entire time the place made us sick and was hard to breathe in with a strong awful smell and remained unihabitable, causing us to be without a home since July 3rd, 2023 due to it.

We are a brown latine lesbian couple and both trans (her transfem and myself tme cafab) and autistic along with other disabilities, and have 2 esa cats.

The whole time during the lease, the landlord would excuse the lack of cleanliness and poor maintenance of the building with that it was an old building, deny things she once acknowledge, and imply that we were just lying or causing the problems and even giving us trouble with getting out of the lease. But before that it led up to 2 big gas leaks.

To not make the post appear too lengthy, the rest is under a cut.

So the 1st gas leak, we were earlier sure about taking and about to load up the cats with us to all attempt sleeping there for the night, only last minute getting the feeling like we should not bring them and then deciding not to. Once in the apartment, we were there, windows shut the entire time, for 3+ hours. I went from the regular struggle to breath, head pain, and sickly feel to escalating much more and becoming very out of it, struggling to stay awake to beginning to feel so out of control, and I never would have guess we were being poisoned due to the state it had already put me in. Kat only noticed by chance, the smell of gas by the oven, when she was just starting to feel more off, which we otherwise wouldn't have spotted with how strong the place smelled. We were so close to not noticing it at all.

Kat had been barely able to drive but got us to the nearby ER, and doctors confirmed the gas poisoning, and kept us there for 3 or 4 hours through the night until recovered enough, fortunately due to it being short term, we had no lasting damage on our bodies, just both felt very ill the next day, and myself barely able to move I remained sick from it for 3 days.

That morning, Kat had contacted the gas company as the doctors suggested, though they could not do anything as we followed the leases direction and were not notified during the event, so no one but the apartment maintenance would be able to even confirm it happening. However, the fire departmen came with a firetruck, since it was also recommended by the doctor to get the place checked out by them.

The landlord later called, after us updating her of current apartment issues promptly as per lease requirements, and this call she went too far. She kept up with her same tactics but worse. She tried implying either we made up that there was a leak or we intentionally gave ourselves gas poisoning (like we were still very sick from the previous night) and was then many times claiming everything is fine with the maintenance man the landlord insists "he knows what he's doing" and "no one has ever had a problem with him", because we had included our concerns with him-- this guy had tried making kat sound like she overreacted and didn't know anything, kept claiming that "Gas does Not spread" so we should have been fine, not having any effects of poisoning, along with other contrary claims.

Anyways, the landlord lady was very clearly implying she thinks we are liars about there even being a gas leak, implying we didnt contact the gas and fire department which she claimed to "work closely with so they wouldn't lie, because she contacted the places and no one had documentation since maintenance was the only one to witness, it was her word against ours. This is when we realize due to the lease instructions to forgo contact to a third party professional to fix gas leaks, we would not be able to have paper documentation against her to prove it. She even "randomly" asked the name of our previous apartment place, and mentioned threatening like "didnt you have a gas leak there too?" As even more reason to accuse us, and saying she may have to contact our previous apartment place and saying how odd she thinks it was to have another leak, though this one worse,

On the 3rd day, after the 1st leak I was still feeling ill only starting to recover, the 2nd leak happened. this time we had to bring our cats with us, since we had no where else to stay with our previous lease over, and the apartment still uninhabitable and made us both more sickly, and still feared being there.

Earlier in that day, we were reassured multiple times that it was fixed and that "the stove SHOULD be putting out a gas smell for the next hour or 2", and that it means it's "Fixed, working" the maintenance man kept insisting, even the landlord lady was there strongly confirming multiple times it was true because "he Knows what he is doing" again, even confirming therepair was checked later in the day to make sure there was no leak and that it was safe.

We were afraid to go back after the 1st leak after how badly to us at least it seemed to be pouring out earlier in the day and their claim that it was supposed to be that way, but it was the only option we had.

We were unsure if we were just overreacting for a while and imagining the smell, it was several hours laters with all windows having been left open, though eventually calling our gas company this time to get proper documentation and a professional, since the smell had not diminished.

Kat was told by the gas man that gas was shooting out, and he's seen fires breakout from similar.. so we had to get Out.

Which led to us being homeless and having to sleep in the car and soon after, we were fortunately able to stay at Kat's parents house though they do not have space for us, keeping us and our cats in her nephew's small cramped room, with Kat sleeping on a broken bed that is messing with her scoliosis, and me havung to sleep on the floor for over a month now really taking a toll on me. And our cats have been under constant stress, making them require more care and expense.

This whole thing has made me lose my job, has been traumatic for us both, and lose easily over $2,500 into cost of the apartment and our repairs alone, and $250 on an attourney that did not try to help much but was able to get us out of the lease. On top of kat recently being wrongfully stopped by a cop for a made up reason, giving her a $135 ticket, along with having to take a 5 week un paid leave of absence to be able to help deal with our situation. And we can no longer put off car repairs, we have put off this whole year since it sputters most of the time instead of starting now along with other concerning issues.

We have currently been trying to find better jobs and a place to live, though due to the unstable living situation and and loss of income it has been more difficult to find a place.

So, any mutua*aid if you have the means and any reblogs would really help and be appreciated a ton

#so this has been going on lately #hoped it wouldn't get as bad as is but it is and still is #and broke my laptop charger again last night

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most-tragic-character-tournament · 5 months

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So,

What a wild ride, everybody.

This tournament went live on July 13th, 3023, and concluded January 1st, 2024. For a long time before, I’d been wondering if I should try my hand at running one of these tournaments, and then I realized we hadn’t had a general tumblr-wide one for tragic characters. I knew that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I decided to bite the bullet and take the URL. The rest is history.

I didn’t have a set plan, but I figured I could take 128 entries. And then in less than a week and a half, I had ~122. And honestly, I wasn’t happy continuing with just those I’d gotten so far, and thought it’d be unfair if it closed that quickly without warning, so I decided to up it to 256 with a max 2 characters per canon after preliminaries. Only after that did I go on a mad search to find brackets that were big enough for that, and I’d almost given up before I finally found these:

Those are all the characters that made it past prelims and into the competition. Some quite unexpected results came out of these matchups, round after round, and honestly I’d consider the first round to have had the most brutal competitions, because I had tried to do the best I could to match levels of popularity with each other, as far as I could tell. (Yeah, that’s why we had c!Tommy v Jon Sims and Primrose v Jinx.). But even eclipsing all of those, as the weeks went on, we were eventually met with Antigone versus Lloyd Garmadon. Ah, those crazy kids.

At some points it was stressful, in the early rounds when I had dozens of posts, each with edited images and alt text, to prepare for every round, but I never regretted starting this. As of posting, this blog has 2,020 followers and has made over 1,000 posts. This will be the last post on this blog—any future asks I receive I will answer privately back to the asker, or cannot be answered if they are anon—but it will always remain here for posterity. The link below is to the similarly-preserved google sheet compiling every word of every submission this tournament ever received.

I’d like to take this chance to say thank you to everyone who submitted characters, supplied photos, sent in propaganda, reblogged the polls, indoctrinated their teachers into greeklitsweep, and everyone who kept good sportsmanship when their blorbos proved so tragic they couldn’t even win. Thank you to the small group of URLs whom I’ve consistently recognized in my inbox from submissions all the way to finals, thank you for letting me know when a name was messed up, and thank you for your patience in-between rounds. (Shoutout to @elemom as well for having their tiktok on the original antigone/lloyd poll blow up.)

If you’ve stumbled upon this blog weeks, months, or even years after this was posted, I would direct your attention to the tag map in the pinned post to sift through the tumblr history you’ve just uncovered. And I would also be tempted to point at the big sign next to it reciting the nuclear zone warning poem. Lastly, if anyone here or there wishes to talk to me about anything regarding the tournament, you’re welcome to DM @twilight-skies.

There were times when I said to myself this was a one-and-done thing—I was NOT dealing with this again, but….keep a look on the horizon, ya never know.

But until next time, it’s been amazing.

Sayonara you weeaboo shits.

#most tragic character tournament #most tragic tournament #tumblr polls #polls #important #gifs

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dyhayc · 2 years

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A Polaroid Is Worth A Thousand Words

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader (Fluff, Humour, Smut)

Summary: It’s summer break! You, your boyfriend, and your friends go on a road trip to meet with the Byers in California. Chaos ensues

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Self-esteem issues/previous negative body image, MDNI 18+, explicit consent, protected sex, innocence kink, corruption kink, praise kink, a little dumbification, a little hand kink, a little oral fixation, a hint of temperature play, a hint of a choking kink, fingering, piv penetration, semi-public sex, virgin!reader, blatant misuse of a popsicle

A/N: I was inspired to write this because I had to pack for my vacation to a beach area. I know this is pretty divergent from my regular stuff. I try to write fluff only (and honestly this is my first time writing anything nsfw) but I’ve been thinking about this specific scenario a lot and I had a long plane ride so… yea. The intrusive horny thoughts won today

Also most of this was written pre-part 2 so I’m just gonna ignore cannon lmao. I actually haven’t watched it yet (I made the mistake of opening Tumblr because I forgot it was July 1st and instantly saw a spoiler, so I’m aware of… things). This can be considered an AU because I know that it doesn’t match up with s4 pt2 at all

The last sentence is a gift for all the people who miss Eddie

Light wash or dark wash? A dilemma that has taken twenty precious minutes from your life. Space in your luggage is limited, and you’re too indecisive to make a choice. Which pair of jeans to bring isn’t the first tough fashion decision you’ve had to make tonight. Over half of your closet is scattered around you. Clothes on hangers struggle to grip onto every ledge available in your room.

Typically, you’d pick the most comfortable clothes from your closet and call it a day, but you and Eddie made a deal. He’d told you that if ‘86 was his year, it would be yours too. At first, you pretended not to know what he was talking about, but he’d just raised his eyebrow, and you knew he knew.

High school had caused a lot of insecurities about your body, mainly because of your “friends” who were catty at best and downright rude at worst. Every day, they’d rate each other’s outfits. However, when it came to you, they always commented about your body rather than your clothes. There had never been a day where you’d felt comfortable in your skin. Getting together with Eddie was one of the best things to happen to you. He helped you to gain your confidence back after years of suppression. He’d always gone out of his way to help you; it was how you’d met.

It was dark that night. The grey storm clouds looming over Hawkins threatened to release a torrent of rain at a moment's notice. They’d been around for days, intimidating but never actually storming. Unfortunately, luck was not on your side. The rain was predicted to pour the night of your graduation.

Even though graduating is a momentous occasion, the ceremony was boring beyond belief. The school had been too cheap to rent a venue, so the entire class of ‘85 and the accompanying families were squeezed into the gym. The speeches were shallow, it smelled like homecoming, Tammy Thompson performed a horrendous rendition of your class song, and to top it all off: you didn’t even get your diploma, just the holder. Everyone had to return with an ID the next day to get the real thing.

Afterward, you were dying to get home, but your friends wanted to attend some grad party. And by “grad party,” they meant going to an abandoned barn and getting shitfaced with half the class. Parties had never been your thing, much less one where everyone would be so fucked up. Maybe you were naive and wanted to believe your friends cared about you, but you didn’t expect them to be so upset that you didn’t want to go.

Thinking you would be hanging out with your friends, your family had left. To make matters worse, it was sprinkling meaning the storm had finally started. If you walked home, the rain would only fall harder, meaning you would get soaked. You asked your friends to drop you off at home, but they said, “The only place we’re going is the party. You’re either coming with, or you’re walking.”

You walked.

Down the jagged streets, you trekked for a few blocks. It was miserable. Your heels hurt your feet, but there was no way you’d walk through the muck and debris barefooted. Your robes were massive, inconvenient, and so thin the wind blew right through you. You were right about the rain. Effectively soaked, you were sure you’d be sick the next day. The disappointment got to you. What was supposed to be a happy day felt impossibly terrible. Sniffling, you weren’t sure if the water on your face was tears or raindrops.

A pair of headlights blinded you, so you raised your arm over your eyes to block the brightness. Brakes screech as the vehicle comes to a stop. Lowering your arm, you see the driver’s side window roll down. Inside is someone you never expected: Eddie Munson.

He seems as confused as you but leans out the window to shout over the wind, “Need a ride?” Considering your options, walk home and potentially get frostbite or ride in a van safe from the rain, you chose the van. Thinking back, it was stupid to trust a man in a van offering to drive you home in the middle of the night, but in the moment, the thought that he may be dangerous hadn’t even crossed your mind.

Running across the street, you open the door and put your soaked cap and holder into the van. Thank goodness they hadn’t given you your actual diploma; it would’ve been ruined in the storm. You unzip the gown, shimmy out of the thin, itchy fabric, and then sit in his passenger seat and shut the door. Embarrassed about the massive wet spot you’re going to leave, you mutter shyly, “Sorry about your seats, Eddie.”

You realize too late you’ve used his name, despite never talking to him before, but he didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he was distracted by the beautiful and, quite frankly, fancy dress you wore underneath your gown. So distracted, he took a second too long to respond, “It’s fine. This van has seen worse.” Unsure of what he means, you don’t reply and buckle your seat belt. He continues, “So, where are you headed? The party is the other way, y’know.”

You wrinkle your nose as tears gather in your eyes again. Vigorously shaking your head, you declare, “I wanna go home.” His eyes soften when you tack on a weak “please,” to your request.

He nods, “Of course. Where do you live?” You notice how his tone becomes gentler, his energy lowering to match your mood. He accommodates you effortlessly, but the thought only hurts your heart, knowing your friends would never do that for you. Hearing your address, he pulls a u-turn and drives toward your house.

You’re both silent, but he keeps glancing at you. Finally, he voices the words he’d been holding back, “Are you okay?” There’s hesitance in his voice as if he doesn’t know whether or not the question will break the relatively calm air of the ride. You genuinely consider ignoring him for a moment before deciding that would be incredibly rude.

Fidgeting with your fingers, you attempt to summarize your night, “I just- Well, after graduating, my friends wanted to go to the party, but I didn’t. I don’t know why they got mad. I guess they didn’t want to drive over to my house cause it’s out of the way. I live far from school, so I kinda get it, I guess.” You couldn’t help but make excuses for them. You didn’t know any better.

Though you couldn’t, Eddie recognized how toxic your friends were and pointed it out, “Sounds like you have shitty friends. A real friend would’ve driven you anywhere you wanted.” You stare at your feet. Deep down, you’ve always known your friends weren’t good for you, but they were comfortable, familiar. He just voices the thoughts you’ve been too scared to acknowledge yourself.

Internally, you rewatch every moment they’d treated you poorly, every time they’d disregarded your feelings, every time they’d been… shitty. “You’re right,” you say softly before laughing in disbelief and repeating louder, “you’re right. They are shitty friends. I can’t believe I didn’t know.” Turning to look at him, you smile, “Thank you.”

He seems baffled at your sudden realization, unsure if you’re being serious, but he still smiles back. “Y’know,” he offers, “Since you’re now friendless, you’re gonna need new friends.” Your eyes widen in alarm. How could you forget? Seeing your panic, he quickly adds, “Maybe I could be your friend?”

Insecurities bubble in your chest, and you question, “But what if you don’t like me? Like, when you get to know me?” Right as you voice your concerns, he pulls up to your house. Parking in front of your home, he unbuckles his seatbelt and turns in his seat.

“Why don’t we get to know each other right now? I have nowhere else to be.” Almost six months later, you’d found out that he had somewhere else to be: the party. He was planning on making bank from the drunk graduates who wanted to party hard. The funds he could’ve gotten probably would’ve paid for two or three months’ rent.

You agreed to chat, excited he wanted to talk to you. Both of you had stayed up for hours talking about anything and everything. You’d only left because you got so tired your eyelids wouldn’t stay open. For the next few months, you saw Eddie around a lot. You also met your new best friends, Steve and Robin, during that time. Working at Scoops-Ahoy was a fun, positive experience. It was even more exciting when Eddie would visit you, though Steve and Robin teased you endlessly for it. At least, it was fun until the “mall fire,” when you experienced the horrors of the Upside Down for the first time.

When news spread about the disaster, Eddie spent hours searching for you. When you’d finally been reunited, he’d confessed that the experience made him realize he couldn’t deal with the idea of losing you. At first, you were confused and thought he was trying to break off your friendship, but he realized you didn’t understand and told you point-blank he wanted to be your boyfriend. You were ecstatic and rushed to let your friends know about your new relationship. They had been excited for you, though Robin and Steve told Eddie privately that if he hurt you, he’d be in deep shit.

Your first date had been perfect. He took you to a park for a picnic. His cooking skills were… subpar, but it’s the thought that counts, and he had obviously tried very hard to please you. And, if that wasn’t enough, he gave you a polaroid camera. He said it was because he wanted to capture every beautiful moment with you. Your teasing about his cheesiness was to cover the way your heart swooned at how sweet he was.

Smiling at the memory, you search through your things to get the camera. Finding it in your dresser drawer, you grab a bunch of extra film and some colourful markers to shove in your backpack. Even though you’ve successfully packed a few items, there’s still the wardrobe dilemma left. With a groan, you return to your jeans and begin the internal debate again.

It takes a few hours of sorting and a break to eat dinner, but you’ve finally chosen all the clothes you want to bring. Now, all that’s left is your swimsuits. You grab a one-piece to be conservative, though it’s not your style. Going back in, you pull out a few mismatched high-waisted bottoms and bikini tops. Putting those away, you move to shut your drawer but hesitate.

Last summer, you were heading to work when you saw the cutest bikini set in the window of a store. It had a strawberry print and frilly detailing with ties on the top and bottom to adjust the size. That swimsuit haunted your thoughts your entire shift, so when you headed home for the day, you bought it. You were at the peak of your negative self-image then, so you never wore the bikini out. It was pretty, but it drew attention to insecurities you hadn’t felt comfortable showing in public.

You’re still not sure if you have the confidence to wear it, but your promise to Eddie makes you bring it anyway. If this is supposed to be your year, you want to wear your favourite bikini. And, if you have doubts, you can probably ask Robin what she thinks? She wouldn’t lie to you.

Content with everything in your luggage, you head to bed and mentally prepare to be stuck in a car with Dustin for hours. You love him like a little brother, but he does not do well when he can’t move around.

You slept in a little that morning, getting up at ten. Sitting in a car is oddly tiring, so you’ll definitely need that extra rest. Gathering up your luggage, you move it to your door. Everyone agreed to meet at your house, so you can chill in the kitchen until noon. You know they’re not going to arrive when they said they would.

Though you love him, Eddie is a hot mess who arrives at least fifteen minutes late to every event. He calls it “fashionably late,” and you agree, but for different reasons: he can’t decide what accessories to wear, so he’s never on time. Steve always wakes up late but still insists on doing his perfect hairstyle. Robin is just a disaster who can’t stick to a schedule to save her life. You adore your friends, but you also tell them to come an hour before you expect them to arrive. That way, they’re on time even if they’re running behind (and all of them always are). It doesn’t help that they’re picking up people today, which adds even more time to their arrivals.

It’s 12:26 when you hear Eddie’s favourite band faintly through your walls. Walking to the door to greet him, you lean against the pillar on your porch to watch his van pull up. You can hear Eddie bickering with Lucas and Max from your spot fifteen feet away. The second the van stops, Mike jumps out and walks towards you. “Hey,” you greet, “Fighting already?”

He rolls his eyes and replies ‘yea’ in an annoyed tone but doesn’t elaborate on the issue further. He makes a beeline for your kitchen, leaving you outside alone. Eddie is the next to go, and you watch him slam the car door aggressively before lighting up when he notices you on the porch. He throws his arms up into the air and exclaims, “My angel!” as he comes closer. He moves his outstretched hands to cup your face and whispers, “How did I get so lucky?”

You giggle, flustered, and mumble, “I think I’m the lucky one.”

He shakes his head and responds, “Wrong!” Before you can refute him, he leans in to kiss you. You reciprocate the kiss and wrap your arms around his waist to draw him closer. Both of you are too preoccupied to notice the other two kids, Lucas and Max, getting out of the van too.

Max passes you both without a word, but Lucas wrinkles his nose and makes it a point to comment, “Gross. Get a room,” as he goes into your home.

Eddie pulls away and yells after Lucas, “Be careful what you wish for. She lives here y’know!” Lucas groans, and you can hear him complaining to Mike and Max in your kitchen. You’ve never had sex before, mainly because you wanted to feel more confident in your body before doing something so intimate, but regardless, the threat is meaningless. Though, Lucas doesn’t know that. You laugh at your boyfriend, and he looks at you with his pretty doe eyes, currently filled with mischief, “What?”

Amused, you just shake your head and slip out of his grasp. Walking inside, you remember your luggage and turn around. Moving it all to the doorway, you clasp your hands and give him a little pout, “Will you help me?”

He laughs at your antics and starts grabbing your bags, “You didn’t have to pout to get my help, baby.”

Kissing his cheek, you thank him with a grin. While he’s stuffing your things in the back of his van, Steve pulls up. Robin rolls down the side window when you walk up. You greet them and get a chorus of hellos in return. Leaning your forearms on the car door, you tell Dustin the others are inside, so he runs off to talk to his friends. “Hi, Nance! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Moving her head so she can see you, she smiles and replies, “Yea, it has been a while.” In high school, you ran in parallel social circles. Occasionally, you’d talk, but it wasn’t typical. After everything that happened with the Upside Down, you got closer. Last night, she’d slept over at Robin’s place, where you would’ve been too if you hadn’t procrastinated on packing.

Robin points out, “You’ll be stuck in a car together for a few hours. There’s plenty of time to catch up.”

Dramatically, you sigh and pout, “I wish you could be with us too, Rob.” Reaching into the car, you rest your hand on her shoulder and give Steve puppy eyes.

He cuts in, unamused, “No. I am not gonna be stuck babysitting again.” He points his finger at you, “If you wanna talk to Robin, you’ll have to sit in my car.”

Though you knew he was gonna say that, you still sigh and pat Robin’s shoulder, “Sorry, best friend.” Moving out of their way, they all get out of Steve’s car and disperse. You watch them go inside as Eddie comes up next to you. Grabbing his hand, you tug him towards your house, “C’mon, we gotta call Ms. Byers.”

When planning your trip, you agreed to call Joyce before you left. She wanted to make sure she’d have space ready for all of you to sleep. You’d tried to tell her you’d get rooms at a motel or hotel, but she’d insisted on letting you stay. She’d said it would be too expensive, and, honestly? She was right.

Everyone is in the kitchen area hanging out and chatting, so you go straight to the phone and call your friends in California. Jonathan picks up the line and slurs, “Uh, hello?” It’s obvious he had been asleep moments before. You tell him it’s you, and he responds, “Are you guys heading out now?”

You’re about to reply when Dustin comes up and asks to say something. You tell him it’s not Will on the phone, but all the teens have crowded around, expecting to speak to him. Relinquishing control, you let them do whatever it is they do. You learned early on that it’s best to just get out of the way.

Checking in with the rest of the group, you offer snacks and water if they forgot to pack anything. Everyone seems to be content with their things, though, so you just get water for yourself and Eddie. You know he’ll forget them if you put them on the counter, so you hand him both bottles. He radiates warmth that draws you in, you can’t resist leaning against his side. Glancing up, you see him softly smiling down at you, so you return it in kind.

Mike hangs up the receiver loudly, getting everyone’s attention. “They know we’re coming,” he announces, “We should leave now.” Desperation bleeds through his voice, obviously eager to get to El. You agree and usher everyone out of your kitchen. Heading out to the cars, the group splits into two. Going with Eddie is you, Dustin, and Nancy. Following Steve is Robin, Mike, Lucas, and Max. Ironically, Steve is taking more people even though he has the smaller car, but it had taken a long fight to get to these positions in the first place.

There had been quite a few rules put in place that limited the placements of people:

1. You’re riding with Eddie (that was non-negotiable)

2. Nancy didn’t want to be in the same car as Mike

3. Dustin insisted he be put with you and Eddie

4. Steve threatened not to come if he was put in a car with only younger teens

5. Lucas and Max requested to sit next to each other

The battle had been brutal, taking over two hours. Luckily, you’d been able to make seating arrangements that pleased everyone. People disperse to their respective rides as you slide into Eddie’s passenger seat, putting your backpack between your feet on the floor. The second he turns on the van, you lower the volume. Dustin leans forward with his walkie in hand, “We’re Eagle One. Steve’s car is Eagle Two.”

“When did we decide that?” you ask, confused.

He responds, “In the kitchen,” before turning on the walkie to talk to the other car, “Eagle Two, this is Eagle One, come in.”

Mike’s filtered voice comes through, sounding agitated, “No way. We’re Eagle One, you’re Eagle Two.”

Recognizing the beginning of a fight, you snatch the walkie out of his hand to break it up, “Dustin used Eagle One first, we call dibs.” You turn down the volume and toss it back to Dustin, who leans back in his seat and listens to what Lucas and Mike are saying.

Eddie glances over and chuckles, “Didn’t expect you to side with Henderson, babe.”

You stick your tongue out at him and jokingly say, “I have to throw him a bone sometimes, Eds.” Dustin exclaims indignantly in the background, but you ignore him. Nancy finally makes her way to the van, so you ask, “Everybody here? Are we ready to go?”

Eddie does a head count, though you only have four people, while Dustin calls over to the other car to check they have all their passengers. Confident you won’t leave anyone behind, Eddie pulls out, and Steve follows. Earlier in the week, your friends gathered any relevant maps they had for the trip. You volunteered to be the navigator, so they were all given to you. The route is pretty simple, though. The hardest part of your trip will be finding places to sleep.

The Hawkins scenery passes by for the first fifteen minutes until you merge onto I-80 West. From there, just follow the highway until you arrive in California. The drive should take about 35 hours, split into three to four days, depending on how much driving is done each day.

Watching grass and trees out your window gets old quickly, so you catch up with Nancy. She rests her elbows on the center console while you’re turned in your seat so you can talk closer together. After a while, you’re both gossiping instead, giggling at stupid rumours about Steve. Eddie seems to enjoy them and says he’ll remember to tease Steve about them later.

Both cars need gas, so you take a pit stop. Hopping out, you walk in circles to stretch your legs. Robin joins you and complains about Steve’s music choices. Teasing her, you laugh, “You’re in the loser car. What did you expect?” She glares and jokingly pushes you out of the way to walk inside the store.

Trailing behind Robin, you beg her to buy you an Icee. To your surprise, she does. You thank her endlessly, excited to drink it. Taking it back to the van, you show the slushie off and tell Eddie that Robin bought it for you. He jokes, “Is Robin your sugar mommy now?”

You stick your Icee-stained tongue out at him, and he takes a picture. You’re thrown off for a moment. You didn’t know he took the polaroid camera out of your bag. Huffing, you set down your Icee and try to steal the photo from his hands. He has much longer arms than you, so it doesn’t work out. Sitting back, you whine, “Why do you even want it, Eddie? I brought my camera to take exciting pictures.”

He laughs at your desperation to get the polaroid back and hits your forehead with it, “Every moment with you is exciting, sweetheart.”

The moment is ruined abruptly. “Why are you two being so lovey-dovey?” Mike questions as he settles in where Nancy had been sitting.

You counter, “Why are you being so dumb?” as you snatch the polaroid from Eddie’s hands. The developed picture turned out surprisingly well, so you decide to keep it.

“You’re not the Wheeler I expected,” Eddie comments dryly, also annoyed at the ruined atmosphere. Mike explains that Nancy asked to switch until the next pit stop; you all leave it at that. The last one to arrive, Dustin hops in with a bag of chips, and you’re on the road again.

Instead of listening to Eddie’s mixtapes, you turn on the radio this time. Flipping through channels, you settle on a random choice. There isn’t much of a selection out in rural Indiana. It gets warm in the car, but the breeze feels fantastic when you lower the windows. You all sit in silence as the smell of dry grass and humidity fills your lungs. The wind is so loud it drowns out the radio, but you don’t mind.

A new song starts, and from what you can hear, it sounds familiar. Turning it up, you realize it’s Mamma Mia, and you crank the volume higher. Laughing in delight, you sing along loudly to the lyrics. To your surprise, Eddie sings too. Dustin says something, but you can’t hear it, and you're definitely not gonna stop singing just to hear his most-likely cynical remark.

He gives up trying to convey what he was saying, instead turning up the volume on the walkie. To your surprise, you can hear Robin and Nancy singing along with you from the other car. The song is over, but everyone’s energy is still high. Rolling up your window, you listen to the group singing along with the radio, occasionally joining in when you recognize a song.

The time passes quickly with the new distraction, and soon enough, you’re at the second pit stop. Steve needed to go to the bathroom, so you found the nearest rest stop. Even though it’s going to be quick, you ask Eddie to photograph you underneath a huge tree. He gets one polaroid before Nancy notices and asks if you want her to take a photo of you both. Posing together, she snaps a picture of you and hands back the camera.

When Steve comes out of the restroom, you get an idea and have Eddie ask a stranger to take a photo of your entire group together. Corralling everyone together is a difficult task, only matched by trying to get them to pose for the camera. The end result is worth it, though, the picture is cute, and everyone looks great.

When you return to the cars, Dustin and Mike switch out for Robin and Nancy. Dustin makes it a point for you to be cautious with his walkie as he passes it, claiming, “with great power comes great responsibility.” You promise him you’ll keep it safe as you take it.

Steve is pissed that he’s “stuck babysitting” even though he threatened to ditch if that happened, but Eddie reminds him he’s too far to go back. Aggravated, Steve hisses at the teens to get in the car as he grumbles under his breath. Part of you feels bad, but another part is happy to finally hang out with Robin.

The ensuing conversation is chaotic. Most of your time is spent arguing about stupid things that don’t matter, but you’re grateful because they fill the time. Robin tried to walkie Steve once, wanting to include him in the conversation, but he was still mad, so he ghosted her.

It’s around 9:30 when you stop at a motel for the night. Anyone who has an income helps to pay for the two rooms. Sorting out luggage, Eddie takes both of yours to the room. You two get a bed, Nancy and Robin get the second, and Steve gets the couch. There’s a line for the shower, so you check up on the younger teens. They’re just watching some stupid horror movie, sprawled out randomly on the two beds. Deciding they’re fine, you tease them, “Don’t get nightmares,” before returning to your room.

The water is freezing, so you shower and brush your teeth quickly. You dress in your typical pajamas, one of Eddie’s t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Your movements are sluggish, the tiredness hitting you suddenly. Reaching your bed, you flop down onto the mattress. Eddie’s the last to shower, so you warn him the water’s cold as he walks away. The alarm clock next to the bed glares 10:13 in bright red lettering.

Huffing, you sit up and crawl under the sheets to try and get comfortable. Steve and Robin are already knocked out, but Nancy is still awake. She has the lamp on as she reads a book, but you’re glad for the light. After everything in Hawkins, you have to admit you’re afraid of the dark.

Eddie finishes his shower fast, dumping his towel in a random spot on the floor. You struggle to keep your eyes open as he lies down on his back next to you. Wiggling around, you find a comfortable position resting your face in the crook of his neck. He smells like the cheap bar soap the motel provides, but you still detect a hint of his usual scent underneath. He kisses the side of your head and mumbles, “Good night, sleepyhead,” into your hair. You fumble some words out that vaguely sound like ‘g’night.’

The following two days go relatively the same. The seating arrangements shuffle around slightly, you drive for about three hours, stop at a rest stop, sight-seeing spot, or gas station, take a few pictures, then repeat. When you get bored, you label and decorate your polaroids. You bought a photo album a few weeks ago to hold all the polaroids from the trip.

On the fourth day, you finally make it to the Byers house. It’s almost three am, so everyone just sleeps and agrees to talk tomorrow. You’re the first to wake up, apart from Joyce. The smell of pancakes leads you to the kitchen, where she’s making breakfast. “Good morning,” you say, rubbing your eyes.

She jumps, not realizing you were there, “Oh! Good morning.” Embarrassed, you apologize before asking if there’s anything you can help with. Food is scattered around the counters, and she appears to be having trouble making a meal for so many people. She motions to a cupboard full of pots and pans, “Can you cook some bacon, please? Thank you so much.”

Together, you make bacon, fried eggs, scrambled eggs, pancakes, Eggo waffles (for El), toast, and apple slices. While cooking, the topic of conversation is grim. You’re both recounting your experiences with the Upside Down and all the other terrible shit that happens in Hawkins. You’re grateful for her insight. She has a lot more experience with murderous monsters than you.

The more people that come in, the more chaotic the kitchen becomes. People snatch items from plates and fight to get food first. You’re surprised, but Joyce looks resigned, like she expected it. When El comes down, you give her the dish of Eggos made specifically for her, and she smiles at you. Observing the scramble for food, you decide to wait until everyone’s done before getting some yourself.

“So, what are you guys planning to do today?” Joyce asks, eating some toast. She has to work since it’s Friday, but tomorrow she’ll be able to hang out with you guys too.

“We’re gonna go to the beach for a few hours,” Jonathan informs her.

Lucas admits he’s never been to the beach before, and Max says, “It’s nothing special. Just sand, water, and trash.” That statement sparks an argument about beaches that you’re desperate to get away from. Pulling Robin out of her chair, you bring her to the spare bedroom where everyone’s luggage is. You pull out the bikini, change into it, and ask her if it’s too much.

She laughs in shock and says, “Too much? It’s perfect. Eddie will love it.” Then, she mischievously nudges your side and adds, “It’s sexy. He’ll love it. If you know what I mean.” She raises her eyebrows to emphasize her point and you push her out the door. Her words still give you confidence, so you put a sundress over your bikini and leave the room.

Once everyone gets dressed, you all head to the beach. For convenience, you park next to each other and open the trunks. Grabbing canopies, towels, bags, and coolers, each person brings something down to the sand. You help Steve set up an umbrella so Robin and Eddie can sit with you.

The sun is burning hot on your back so you peel off the sundress and leave it in your bag. Though you don’t notice, Eddie’s eyes are glued to you. His breath hitches at the view of your ass when you bend down. He’s never seen you wear such a revealing bikini before. The simple sight of your exposed skin makes his heart pound.

Jonathan has a cooler of drinks and popsicles that he’s offering to the kids. You ask for a coconut popsicle, and Lucas tosses one to you. Right after you start to eat it, you realize you left your sunscreen in the van. Letting Robin and Steve know where you’re going, you head towards the parking lot.

Eddie showed you a trick to open his van’s door without the key. There’s a dent in the door that will release the lock if hit hard enough. You’re about to attempt it when two hands rest on your hips. Scared, you jump and whip around, only to find Eddie behind you. He laughs as you angrily glare at him. “Sorry baby,” he says softly, kissing your cheek. His hair tickles your nose and you giggle, accepting his apology.

He holds up his keys and opens the door for you. Or at least, that’s what you assumed he was doing. Instead, he reaches inside, himself, and grabs the camera. You know he’s going to ask for a photo, so you whine, “I need my sunscreen, Eddie!” Still, he smoothly talks his way into just one picture.

Resigned, you pose for the camera, holding your popsicle out in front of you. There’s drops of melted ice cream gathering at the bottom, near your hands, but you wait until the camera clicks to do anything about it. Cupping your tongue, you gather the liquid then lick a long stripe up the entire length of the popsicle.

Eddie groans, “Jesus fucking christ,” before placing his free hand on your chest and pushing until your back hits the van. He crowds your space, hand remaining firm on you. His eyes are hooded as he looks into your wide, confused gaze. You hold your popsicle in front of his face and remind him, “it’s gonna melt.”

He pushes the popsicle away using the hand holding your camera. With the other hand, he can feel your heart racing underneath his palm. Your breath comes out in shaky pants as he slowly inches his hand upwards to rest on your neck. Leaning forward, he whispers in your ear, “God, you have no fuckin’ idea, do you?” An involuntary whine slips out, but it’s quickly silenced by a light squeeze to your neck.

“So innocent you can’t even see that I want you, huh? My sweet angel, so good you can’t recognize you’re being bad.” The way he speaks about you is reverant, like he worships the ground under feet. His big brown eyes shine with love and lust. You stare into them until your lips meet, then your eyelids flutter shut.

The kiss is intense, like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. He takes the lead and you let him, unsure of what to do. The tip of his tongue runs against the seam of your lips and you gasp, unintentionally letting him in. He explores until you have to part to breathe. A string of saliva connects your lips as you both gasp for air. He grabs your free hand and tugs you into the back of the van.

Shutting the door and setting the camera to the side, he grips your hips and pulls you onto his lap, your back fit snugly to his front. You feel his lips kissing the crook of your neck. “Do you want to continue?” The words are spoken into your skin. You nod, but he doesn’t move, “No, use your words. I need to hear it.”

“Yes, I wanna continue,” you speak quickly, adding, “please.” You can feel his smile on your skin, apparently pleased with your words. He presses wet open-mouthed kisses down your neck, starting behind your ear. Sliding his hands up from your hips, he slips them underneath the sides of your bikini cups. He massages your flesh before pinching your nipples. The sudden action makes you jolt. He chuckles at your surprise and moves his hands lower.

Fiddling around with the strings on your bottoms, a harsh tug pulls the ties undone. The light taps on your thigh signal you to lift your hips, and he throws the piece to the side. His right hand splays across your stomach and slowly heads downward. Leading with his middle finger, he continues until his entire hand cups you. His finger swirls around your hole, gathering the wetness there. The movement makes his palm lightly brush against your clit, but any stimulation is enough to send you reeling.

You’ve completely forgotten about your popsicle until he reminds you, “Don’t want it to melt, do you?” Stopping all movement, he waits for you to act. Shakily, you bring it to your lips and take a lick. Pleased, he slides his middle finger inside you with one fluid stroke. Forgetting all about your popsicle again, you let out a loud whine and focus on the feeling of his finger against your walls. He thrusts a few times, before deciding you can handle a second.

He runs the pads of his fingers up and down trying to find the spongy spot that’s guaranteed to make your toes curl. You gasp when his fingers brush against it, so he massages that area, purposefully rubbing the heel of his palm into your clit. You try to breathe, but you can’t. It feels like all the air has left your body, like your lungs have decided to stop working.

The popsicle stick is sliding out of your hand and you don’t even notice it, but Eddie does. Snatching it up with his left hand, he coos, “Do you need help, baby?” Unsure of what he’s gonna do, you nod cautiously. Bringing the popsicle to your lips, he tells you to open up. You obey, and he slowly presses it in until you can feel the freezing tip against the back of your throat. Pulling the popsicle stick back, you whimper at the loss. Confident you can handle it, he pushes it in and out matching the tempo of his hand.

The cold constantly grabs your attention as he thrusts it in all the way, every time. Now in the wet heat of your mouth, the popsicle is melting at an alarming rate. You’re trying to swallow it all, but there’s so much it drips down your chin and spills onto your chest. “So messy,” he teases, but you barely hear him, the pleasure from both ends is entirely too distracting. Attempting to ground yourself, you grip onto his right arm with both hands.

You’re getting close when he pauses to pull the popsicle out of your mouth. There’s only a little left on each side of the stick, so he eats it and throws the wood away. He praises you for being so obedient, “Good girl, you did so well for me.” You clench hard at his words and he mentally notes your response before moving his fingers again. You don’t know how he knows, but he asks, “Does my angel need to cum?”

Nodding, you squeeze your eyes shut, hard. Shaking his head, he continues, “You can, if you ask nicely.”

“Eddie!” you whine when he pushes particularly hard with his palm, “Can I please cum?” He hums in thought, pretending to consider your request. Meanwhile, his fingers are moving even faster than before, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your grip is like iron, now, fingernails digging into his skin.

He concedes, “Well, how can I say no when you ask so nicely? Go ahead.” You see stars behind your closed eyes, leaning your head back onto his shoulder. He presses soothing kisses to your neck and continues his hand motions until you try and squirm away, overstimulated.

You accidentally push back hard against his bulge and you both groan. Helping you off his lap, he gently lays you on your back. Brushing sweat-slicked hair off your forehead, he takes in all the mess on your chest. He licks all the white residue from the popsicle off of you, and you hope silently that he can’t hear your heart pounding hard under his tongue.

“Do you still wanna continue?” he inquires, chin resting on your sternum. You say yes, so he rucks up the top of your bikini. Mischievously, he sucks small marks on the sides of your breasts where the bikini will cover. He notices you watching with impatient eyes and shimmies out of his boxers, sitting on his knees. Lifting up your hips, he rests them over his thighs and gently runs his hands up and down your bare skin.

For a second he appears to be thinking, before he leans over and reaches under one of the seats. You watch, perplexed as he blindly searches, before pulling out a condom. In disbelief, you ask, “Really?”

He shrugs, “You never know when you’re gonna get laid in the back of a van.” You gawk at him, but say nothing more. Watching him put it on is mesmerizing, his hands are so nimble and big. You’re still fascinated as he grips the base of his dick and runs the tip through your folds. “I’m not gonna lie, it might hurt,” he admits, “I’ll go slow, okay?”

You just nod, the anticipation makes you feel afraid to say anything, in fear he’ll turn around and realize this isn’t what he wants. He pushes in entirely in one long movement, kissing your neck because he knows it will help distract you. The stretch burns, you scrunch your eyes at the feeling. Focusing on the crook of your neck, he bites down and sucks to make a mark.

You moan out and clench hard around him. Knowing he’s marking you is so indescribably hot that you can’t control yourself. The rational part of your brain takes over for a few seconds, and you complain, “you’re gonna leave a mark, everyone’s gonna see.”

Eddie laughs, “Well, it feels like you enjoyed it, sweetheart.” Effortlessly, he calls you out on your lie. Flustered, you stutter some lame excuse, but he continues to laugh at you.

Deciding to test the waters, he pulls out partially and pushes back in slowly. When you respond positively, he begins to speed up. The pleasure builds up and you cry out, digging into his shoulders with your nails. “Be a good girl and be quiet for me. Someone might hear you, angel,” he commands, reminding you that you’re in a beach parking lot.

“‘M sorry, I’ll try, promise,” you whimper, wanting to please him. All your energy is dedicated to keeping quiet, but it doesn’t work. With each thrust, you get louder and louder. It’s almost embarrassing how fast your second orgasm builds up, but he just feels so good.

His knuckles brush against your cheek as he coos, “Do you need more help?” You make a noise of agreement, so he slides two fingers into your mouth. They taste slightly like you. Moaning around them, you suck, which makes him groan. He rolls his hips harder, knowing you won’t be able to make noise. Every single time he hits the right spot to make you see stars. Dropping his other hand down, he rubs your clit in tight circles, increasing your bliss. It’s too hard to keep your eyes open now, so you allow them to flutter shut. The loss of sight only adds to the pleasure and you can feel your second orgasm rapidly approaching.

Eddie can feel the way your walls flutter around him. He demands your attention by pushing roughly on your tongue. Your eyes shoot open, and you look at him, vision blurred by tears. “Are you close?” he asks, his tone indicating that he’s expecting something from you. Knowing what he wants, you beg for your release around his fingers. Grinning widely, he commands, “Cum around my cock, I know you can do it. Be a good girl, cum for me.” He says more, but you can’t hear it, all senses consumed by your release. Your orgasm triggers his, and he finishes inside the condom.

Pulling out, he takes off the condom and ties the end, throwing it in the direction of the popsicle stick. You’d chastise him for being so gross if your mind wasn’t so hazy. In a daze, you watch him pick up the camera and take a photo. He takes the nearest marker, a neon pink one, and writes in shaky letters “my angel,” adding a heart to the right.

Finished, he pours some water from a bottle onto his beach towel and wipes the mess off your legs. You flinch when he presses too hard on a sensitive spot. He apologizes, cleaning you with a gentler touch. Eddie pulls your top to its proper place before finding your bikini bottoms and tying them for you. He slips on his swim trunks and nudges your leg, “C’mon, you need to rinse off.” You try to stay on the floor, but he forces you up and takes you to the beach showers outside.

With shaky legs, you struggle to stand so you opt to lean on Eddie, who wraps his arm around your waist. He turns on the water and helps wash the sticky coconut residue off your face and torso. His touch is soothing, and you lean into his hand, closing your eyes. You realize that you’re going to have to go back to the beach, so you mutter, “I don’t think I can walk.”

Turning off the water, he offers a piggyback ride. You perk up, “Really?”

He chuckles at your enthusiasm, “Yes, really.” Kneeling down, he lets you climb onto his back. Before going back to the beach, he stops by the car and hands you his leather jacket, “For the mark,” he says, tapping his neck to show you where your hickey is. You slip it on and wrap your hands around his neck, squeezing tighter and begging him not to drop you when he begins to run. “Special delivery!” he exclaims, setting you down between Steve and Robin.

You instantly drop back, “I’ve never been so glad to be on solid ground.” Dustin calls Eddie away, leaving just the three of you.

Steve has a stupid smirk on his face, which makes you squint at him. After a tense second, he asks, “Yea? You’re not glad about other things?” Realizing he’s pointing to the hickey, you pull the jacket higher on your neck, embarrassed.

Steve laughs, but Robin defends you, “Leave her alone, you knew they were gonna go make out.” She turns to you, “Next time you two are gonna run off somewhere, think of better excuses. Sunscreen and the bathroom are too generic.” You completely forgot about your sunscreen! You groan and drop your head back, covering your face with your hands. At least they think you were only making out.

Continuing the conversation, Steve starts bragging about the craziest places he’s made out. You tune out the conversation in favour of watching Eddie. He looks so genuinely happy here, with his friends, having fun. He catches your eyes and smiles wide. You grin back, content to watch him living happy and healthy.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie smut #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #fluff #humour #humor #smut #my writing

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uraichievents · 2 months

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UraIchi Week 2024

Monday, July 1st, 2024 - Sunday, July 7th, 2024

AO3 Collection

Full Prompts List Submitted This Year

(Click images to enlarge. Alt text under the cut.)

What is UraIchi Week?

It’s a week-long fanworks event to promote the Urahara Kisuke x Kurosaki Ichigo ship. There’s no sign-up, it’s just for fun, and everybody can participate. Completed works and wips are both acceptable, and any type of fanwork (fanfic, fanart, gifsets, etc.) is welcome. NSFW and/or potentially trigger-y content is allowed, although please remember to tag your works properly.

The ship itself can be written romantically or platonically, as lovers or friends or even enemies, so long as it stars these two characters together in some way. Poly ships are also fine so long as Ichigo and Kisuke are still the focus of the fanwork. And crossovers and fusions are also allowed even if it isn’t one of the given prompts for the event. Basically, anything goes, and the only criteria is that it has to be UraIchi-centric.

Posting:

UraIchi Week is hosted here on Tumblr and on AO3. For posts on Tumblr, remember to ping @uraichievents and tag #UraIchi Week 2024. For AO3, you can add your work(s) to the collection linked up above. You are also welcome to join the UraIchi Discord server if you haven’t already and come and talk about what you’re working on!

Themes:

July 1st, Day 1: i've met you before / i'll meet you again / this is the first time we've met.. right?

Time Travel / Dimension Travel

Identity Porn / Hidden Identities

“I've suffered from traumatic dreams of my past lives since I was a child, and I'm just now realizing that coming up to a beautiful stranger who looks like someone I've seen die a thousand times in a thousand different ways at a bar and asking if we've met before sounds a lot like a come-on haha no wait come back that doesn't mean I'm not desperately attracted to you please kiss me again” AU

July 2nd, Day 2: It's fact that killable problems are not real problems.

Murder Husbands

Ichigo is Deadpool / unbreakable / any other accidentally immortal being who is really kind of annoyed about it (because it’s boring, and he’s still young enough to be within his lifespan, but it sure takes the fun out of fighting).

All the times Ichigo died, he ACTUALLY died, he just came back. Every time he comes back, he comes back Wronger.

July 3rd, Day 3: Things I Should've Told You / Things I Don't Tell Anyone Else

The skeletons in your closet are about to overflow. Would you like me to tidy it up?

Ichigo is experimenting with self-expression, a hobby, etc., making up for lost time as a regular teenager. Urahara is always the first one (sometimes only one) to see or hear about a new idea.

“The person I trust most is you.”

July 4th, Day 4: Sword and Shield

I am yours to command, use me as you please.

Shiba!Ichigo and Second Division!Kisuke

Summoner/Mage AU: Paired summons who are good apart but unmatched together.

July 5th, Day 5: That One is Mine

Hollow Instincts / Feral Protective

Possessive!Kisuke: He stepped aside for Sui-Feng because Yoruichi was always master first and friend second and love interest never, and because Yoruichi wanted her in a way she's never wanted him. But Ichigo is different, and everyone soon realizes that when Kisuke truly wants something, he always gets it in the end.

“Death can’t have you. You’re mine.”

July 6th, Day 6: Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Some are born, some are made, and some decide being a monster's pretty fucking cool.

Visored!Urahara Kisuke AU / Vasto Lorde!Kurosaki Ichigo AU

“Ichigo forges a friendship with his Hollow in the Shattered Shaft” AU

vs. Gotei 13 AU: Ichigo time travels back from a future where he was chained to the throne as the next Soul King by the Shinigami.

July 7th, Day 7: Creator’s Choice!

As always, the above prompts are all optional, and you’re free to come with your own ideas. You can also find an excel sheet with all the prompts submitted this year linked up above, so feel free to look through that if you want, and you can also make a copy for yourself.

And that’s it! We’re looking forward to what everyone comes up with!

#psa #uraichi #uraichi week 2024 #uraichi week #bleach

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moonchildstyles · 9 days

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announcement :)

hiiiiii guys :)))))) ive posted a little recently about some of the stuff ive been writing, but I just wanted to officially let everyone know that starting next month my Patreon will be back up and I'll be back to posting writing there early access, and then posting it here after a couple of weeks!

I have a few different series and one shots I plan on sharing, with the first one going up on Patreon on June 1st, with a new series coming the friday after! The one shot from June 1st will be posted to Tumblr after the series is wrapped up, so a little over a month, with each part of the series coming to Tumblr weekly starting on July 5th! Patreon will be 2-3 parts ahead a of Tumblr, but this is not an exclusive and will be coming to Tumblr within the month!!

If you're interested in getting early access to everything, you can check out my patreon here! this post is a little rushed, but if you have any questions about anything at all, please send me an ask or a message whatever youre comfortable with!!!!

thank u guys always for so much support and patience and love!! I hope you feel all my love just as deeply :)

#other #mine.#harry #harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles writing

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xx-thedarklord-xx · 5 months

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If you are like me, excited for upcoming drarry fests but suddenly feel like you are behind because there are so many, you have come to the right place. I am going to try to compile a list for the ones coming up in the next few months, if I have missed any fests please let me know and I'll add them!

Draco Tops Harry @dracotops-harry

Prompt Collection: January 06 - 20, 2024

Claiming starts: January 22 - March 17, 2024

Submissions due: March 18, 2024

Fest starts: April 1, 2024

Drarry MiniBang @drarry-mini-bang

Sign Ups: January 20th

Sign Ups Close: February 18th

Deadline for fic concept: February 18th

Fic Concepts to Artists: February 24th

Artist Claim: February 27th

Submissions Due: July 2nd

Posting Begins: August

Lights Camera Drarry @lcdrarry

Propmting: January 10-17

Claiming/Sign Ups: January 20th to March 15

Submissions Due: April 15

Posting Begins: May 1

Reveals: June 15

HD Wireless @hd-wireless

Prompting opens: Sunday, January 14th

Claiming opens: Sunday, February 4th

Submissions due: Friday, June 14th

Posting starts: Monday, July 1st

Harry Draco Mpreg @harrydracompreg

Prompting Begins: Monday, 29 January

Prompting Ends: Saturday, 10 February

Claiming Begins: Monday, 12 February

Last Day to Claim: Sunday, 7 April

Submissions Due: Sunday, 21 April

Posting Begins: Sunday, 12 May (US Mother’s Day)

Reveals: Sunday, Sunday, 16 June (US Father’s Day)

#drarry #drarry fests #upcoming drarry fests #This is also for me #because I can't keep track of dates at all #and needed them in one spot #PLEASE let me know if I missed a fest #my memory is ass and I need the help whenever possible #I'll add them ASAP

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feelbokkie · 11 months

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Don’t Let Me Love You | Chapter 12

pairing: Felix x fem reader; Chan x fem reader

genre: smau, fake dating, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, mention of food, the slightest allusion to suicide

summary: With the upcoming wedding of her cousin and her ex, Y/n is in desperate need of a date for the wedding that will show the happy couple that she moved on.

word count: 2,115

screenshot count: 7

a/n: happy 4th of July. Here, have some fireworks 😊

previous | masterlist | next

"I can't believe we are currently at the house of one of the top chefs in Seoul and we're eating takeout from some random, no-star restaurant." Jeongin whines. He'd been pouting since the second Minho announced that he order food from a restaurant near him.

"It's my day off," Minho says calmly, not even looking up from the bags of food. He carefully pulled out each container and set them on his table.

Hyunjin was scrolling through Minho's Netflix account looking for something for you guys to watch while you ate. Everyone's suitcases are lined up perfectly by the door to give you room to sleep on the floor. All five of you were going to sleep in the living room and Minho had already set up the blankets and pillow before you even arrived. It was almost like how every movie night went with your group. You mostly met at Minho's because he had more space for all of you. All of you choose a movie and you would spend the rest of the night watching them.

"Let's watch Final Destination!" Seungmin calls from the kitchen, earning a laugh from Hyunjin.

"We are not watching Final Destination the night before we go on an airplane. Are you insane? That's like watching Titanic before going on a boat." You call back. You're currently sitting on the couch, too engrossed in your phone to see which genre Hyunjin was currently scrolling through.

"What happens in Final Destination?" Innie asks, walking into the living room and sitting down next to Hyunjin.

"Don't worry about it, In." Minho chimes, bringing the food into the living room.

"Okay," Innie replies. He learned from his lesson when you guys watched It a couple of years ago to just drop it.

Seungmin follows closely behind with the rest of the food and sits down next to you on the couch.

"How do we feel about 20th Century Girl?" Hyunjin asks, already pressing play on the movie.

"Y/n, stop flirting with Felix and put your phone away. It's family time." Seungmin hums.

"I'm not flirting with Felix." You retort.

"I mean you already kissed him, so..."

"You told him?" Your eyes fall on Hyunjin who is innocently already eating his food.

"By accident," He mumbles with food in his mouth. You feel your phone get pulled out of your hand, you quickly turn to see Seungmin with your phone in his hand.

"Seungmin, wait--"

"You're actually a fucking idiot." Seungmin looks up at you in disbelief. You try to grab the phone from him again but he pushes you back.

"Shh, the movie is starting!" Minho whispers.

"No, turn off the movie. This is more important." Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Minho pause their eating and turn you and Seungmin. You two were now standing on the couch. You are desperately trying to get your phone back from Seungmin who is keeping you away with his left hand while scrolling through your messages with Chan with the other.

"What are you two doing?" Innie asks.

"Princess dumbfuck over here has been texting Chan hyung."

"Seungmin, stop!" You cry.

"Seriously?" Minho asks.

"What? Right now?" Innie questions.

Hyunjin quietly gets up from his spot on the floor and quickly walks over to Seungmin. He takes the phone from Seungmin's hand and scrolls through your messages. Everything is quiet for a moment. Seungmin has an arm in front of you to prevent you from going after Hyunjin. Minho looks off at nothing, blinking in confusion while Jeongin stares at you directly.

"I'm going to kill him. But first, I'm going to kill you. What are you doing, Y/n?" Hyunjin asks. His face is slowly turning red.

"I'm not doing anything. We're just friends." You say softly.

"Friends? He basically said, 'Do you want to come over for ramen?' And you agreed." Hyunjin throws your phone at your feet.

"It's not like that--" You climb down from the couch so you were now level with Hyunjin, picking up your phone in the process.

"Were you dropped on your head as a baby?" Hyunjin's face twists in disgust.

"Who knows, maybe. Bai probably dropped me a few times to get rid of me."

"You're making jokes right now? I'm actually going to beat the shit out of you." Seungmin scoffs, picking up a spoon from the side table where he put his food.

"Seungmin hyung, you're not going to actually put your hands on her are you?" Jeongin panics.

"She needs to have some sense knocked into her." He retorts.

"Let's calm down before one of us says something we all regret." Minho stands up and makes his way toward the three of you.

"I have nothing more to say to her. If she wants to run off and be just like her cousin, let her be. I'm not going to help pick up the pieces when Chan leaves her again for some other slut." Seungmin huffs before storming off to Minho's bedroom.

"I'm nothing like Bai. Channie--"

"'Channie?' Oh my my fucking god!" Hyunjin cries, throwing his head back in shock.

"--and I haven't done anything. He's not cheating on her. I'm not the other woman or anything like that."

"Emotional cheating is still cheating, Y/n. And you know what? You're right you're nothing like Bai, you're worse. You knew up front that Bai was a bitch. You're going around, bending over backward to be her maid of honor with a fake ass smile all while flirting with her fiance."

"Guys--"

"I'm not flirting with Channi--Chan. We're just talking."

"Bullshit--What are you even hoping to accomplish? Do you think he's going to call it off with Bai and run to you and you'll live happily ever after? That might happen but it'll only be a matter of time before he runs off with someone else. Once a cheater, always a cheater."

"I keep telling you, it's not like that."

"Hyung--"

"Keep lying to yourself, Y/n."

"I'm not lying!" Hyunjin walks past Minho and straight to you. He gently cups your face in his hands.

"You need to get it through your thick skull that Chan does not love you. He doesn't love you now and he didn't love you back then. You're just some plaything to him and the second he's done with you, he's just going to toss you aside like garbage. Why? Because you're nothing more to him than a quick fuck and the sooner you realize that, the better off you're going to be."

"Hyunjin, that's enough," Minho warns.

"Hyung, that's a bit harsh."

"Fuck you, Hyunjin." You push Hyunjin's hands off your face and scramble to get your stuff together.

"Y/n, don't go," Minho says softly.

"No," You grab your suitcases and walk towards to door. "I'm not going to stay here if you guys are just going to yell at me all night."

"Yeah, go run to Chan again. Don't fall on his dick," Hyunjin scoffs before walking off.

"I'll go talk to him and Seungmin. Y/n, please just stay, we can talk about this." Minho says before going after Hyunjin, leaving you and Jeongin alone.

You struggle to put your shoes on, the tears that started pouring out of your eyes made your vision too blurry to find your laces.

"Noona," Jeongin calls softly. "please stay. They didn't mean what they said. They're just worried about you. It was scary when you found out that Chan hyung cheated on you. You...We almost lost you and none of us want to watch you go through that again. So, please just stay."

"I can't right now, In. I'll see you guys at the airport tomorrow but I cannot spend the night here tonight." You use the back of your hand to wipe the tears off your face and give him a reassuring smile. The two of you could hear yelling from one of the other rooms.

"Can you at least text me when you get home?" His eyes were full of worry, sparkling like he was about to cry.

"Yeah, I will." You give him a quick hug before leaving Minho's apartment.

Tonight has been like a fever dream. Not even an hour ago you were fighting with half of your main friend group and now you were currently in the bathroom of your fake boyfriend, doing his hair.

You were halfway home when your phone started ringing. You had picked it up without looking at the caller id and Felix knew immediately that you were crying from the tone of your voice. He made you stay where you were and went to get you, making you go home with him.

"Jeju's going to be fun," You mutter while massaging the black hair dye into Felix's hair. You had just finished telling him everything that just happened a few hours prior.

"Do you want to swap rooms? It sounds like Minho hyung isn't too mad at you. I don't mind sharing a room with Hyunjin." he says.

"He's not mad now but give him time to process everything and he'll lecture me next. Why do you think I shut my phone off telling Innie where I am?" You go through his hair one more time to make sure not a single bit of blonde was left. Felix was in the middle of cutting his hair when he called you.

It's still awkward between the two of you since your kiss. You two haven't been along together since then. It's an unspoken rule not to talk about it.

"Can I ask you a question?" Felix asks as you wrap his hair in a shower cap and towel. You toss the plastic gloves in the trash and set the timer on Felix's phone.

"Go ahead," You grab a washcloth and begin to clean up the dye from his face.

"What's the story with you and Chan?" He asks hesitantly.

"Not much of a story. We met at a welcoming event for new university students that he was volunteering for. Hyunjin introduced us officially later at a party and we hit it off. We fell in love quickly. dated for a little over 2 years before Bai got her claws in him. Found out an entire year after that they were together. Three painful years later, here we are. If you're asking why I'm still so into him, I don't know. They say that you're emotionally bonded to your first time so maybe that?" You look over Felix one more time, making sure you had every bit of spilled dye cleaned before tossing the washcloth into Felix's hamper. You took off the shirt Felix gave you so you wouldn't get dye on your clothes and tossed it in there as well.

"They kept it from you for a whole year?" He asks, shocked.

"Yup. Apparently, they had sex on my bed when I brought him home for Christmas. Bai was still living with my parents at the time so when I lost my shit I moved in with Hyunjin. He had an apartment near campus."

"Holy shit," He breathes.

"What about you? What's your story with Bai?" You sit down on the sink counter and swing your legs back and forth.

"Nothing as dramatic as yours. We met at a party and hooked up. That was our relationship for a while. Neither of us wanted to be tied down so it worked for us. Eventually, I wanted to be in a relationship and she didn't want to be in one with me. So I let everything continue if it meant I could keep whatever the fuck we had going on going. I was pinning after her like an idiot, torturing myself by thinking she would realize she was in love with me too and break up with Chan."

"You said it wasn't love." You softly kick his knee.

"No, I said I'm not currently in love with her. I was at one point though. Won't deny that."

"How…how did you fall out of love with her?" You lowered your head, keeping your eyes on your feet.

"Time I guess? Seeing how she treated you helped though. Truly a vile woman. I wasn't in love with her anymore when I met you, but I wasn't over her. If that makes sense. But seeing her be two-faced like that as an outsider made me realize how truly toxic our thing was and gave me that final push that I needed. I was terrified to get into a relationship after I stopped loving her, but I guess sometimes you need someone to show you that it's all worth it."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Tag list:

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@primoppang @junebug032 @jaydebow @streetrebelrootsdistinguish @sanriiolino @hyynee @muddy-waters @usercaiskz @skzofhearts @qweebsarse @amara-mars @stayconnecteed @blueforte @soonyoungblr @dandycharmer @hibuki-chan @jihanlovic @fylithia @chlodavids @its-hannjisung @hash2013 @felixglow @procrastinationprodigy @tfshouldidohere @weebsrequiem @swiftly-heart @mybabywearschanel @end0rchans @curly-fr13s @stvrfir3 @qveenbibi @pink-rose-chans-baby @sserafimez @yennifersgeralt @gemisea @farfromsugafanfic @veedoesntknaur @felixrealbabymama @mrsseals16 @rag-iii @captivq @idkwimdahyd

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twiwoncrackpopcorn · 1 year

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G-Fantasy (May.2023) Twisted Wonderland Manga SPOILERS ~Episode of Savanaclaw~ Ch3

Reminder that Episode of Savanaclaw release is not every month as it's a 50 pages release, stay tuned for the next one on July 18th.

Summary of the Chapter :

Yuuka, Grim, Ace, Deuce & Cater are at Savanaclaw to keep investigating the accidents targeting magift players,

they meet with Jack, the promising 1st-year of Savanaclaw, who gives an intimidating aura,

other Savanaclaw students show up, not happy to have outsiders at their Dorm, and plan to solve the issue with their fists, so Yuuka gets ready to fight (go girl go!! Ace is stunned and Deuce wondering if it's ok to fight),

Leona interrupts and it leads to a magift showdown (pretty cool pages!!),

the five investigators leave after Leona wiped the ground with them,

at night at Ombroryo, Yuuka meets a tall student with horns wandering around the not-abandoned-anymore Dorm, (yes, Yuuka is as tall as Ace and Deuce after all)

meanwhile, at Savanaclaw, in Leona's room, Jack overhears him speaking with Ruggie about their complot to steal the win at the Magift Tournament,

despite Jack protest, Leona is not planning to stop his underhanded tactics as long at it means winning against Diasomnia and Malleus, and Ruggie follows him regardless,

blot slowly accumulates~

Side comment > just why in heaven and hell is Leona drawn so prettily, is that a honey-trap to make everyone overlook his shady complot?!?!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland ~Episode of Savanaclaw~#twst manga #twst spoilers #twst savanaclaw #ツイステ

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calliopesdiary · 2 months

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“it’s just anatomy, you’re only half of me. but still you don’t know me at all”

age: 13+

summary; reader has a depressingly long history of knowing her brother hates her, and always will.

warnings; reader struggles with depression, sirius is an ass and not helpful, remus is sensible, reader struggles with belluma

a/n: i’d highly recommend NOT reading if any of these topics are sensitive towards you, and this is not at all what so ever a “how too” on eating disorders. it’s simply a fictional description on how harming they are to a person. xoxo!

another a/n; too sweet part two is on its way!!

you must’ve done something horrible in your past life, because you were “blessed” with this family. the noble and most ancient house of black.

you were regulus’ fraternal twin, which meant sirius was your older brother.

he promptly cut you and regulus off when you were both sorted into slytherin. unlike sirius and regulus, you weren’t able to take punishments with an “oh well.”. you couldn’t make mistakes, and if you did there would be consequences. like if you got over 105 pounds you would be put on stricter diets, because as walburga would say…

“beauty is pain.”

July 19th, 1976 at 3;41am

You woke up with a jolt, after hearing a floorboard creak outside your room.

In a curious spur, you decided to check out what it was. maybe it was your cat? no, couldn’t be. she was asleep next to your pillow all night.

the floorboards felt like ice on your feet, as you padded silently across your room and towards the door.

“sirius?”

“what?”

“where are you going?”

“far away from here.”

“you can’t…”

“i can.”

“s-sirius… no..”

the lump in your throat built up out of nowhere, and the tears too.

“w-what about me? and reggie and—“

“you can figure it out, i can’t do this anymore. she’s going to murder me, y/n.”

he held his trunk in his fist, and his griffyndor tore back slung over his shoulder.

“take us with you then! she’s not going to go any easier on us.”

you fought back the hurt and hot tears, it wasn’t worth it.

“you cut us off in first year, both me and reggie barely hear from you. and now this?”

your sadness morphed into a furious rage.

“you know what, y/n? you’re just like her.”

“. . .”

“goodbye, sirius.”

you shut your door, before the tears came pooling down your cheeks.

one thing kept on echoing through your head.

“you’re just like her.”

you weren’t… were you?

september 1st, 1976.

the walk to the station was different, there was no yelling, no screaming, and no flipping off warburga.

it was just you and regulus, you’d think your parents would take you to bid their farewells but it wasn’t more than a fantasy.

“do you think he’ll say hello?”

“cut the delusions, dove. that’s the third time you’ve asked.”

“oh.”

regulus was adamant on ignoring his brothers existence, after the awful words he had spit out at his younger twin sister.

“maybe we could go say hello—“

“no, y/n.”

it was sad to see how dependent you were on him coming around, maybe leaving a note or two, but through the next few months you got— well, nothing.

december 17th, christmas break

“he looks healthy.”

you observe, as Dorcas sighs.

“that’s what you look like when you have a healthy household, love.”

you nod, your eyes doing more watching your food than eating it. you wish it could just disappear.

“aren’t you going to eat anything?”

evan asks worriedly, barty snickers from his position on evan’s lap.

“i don’t think she’s allowed to, mate.”

“eat? of course…”

you pecked at the food on your plate, and practically force feeding yourself.

out of pure observation, some would argue that the scale was your best friend.

the number 108lbs was displaying proudly and boldly on the scale.

“shit, i’m only supposed to be 104…”

you thought, there was only one thing for you to do. which seemed completely logical.

that limit was only set by walburga, and how blinded she was by beauty standards.

you stood menacingly infront of the toilet, hands shaky. merlin, if anyone ever found out..

funny, you hated being sick when you were a kid. now you couldn’t seem to stop making yourself sick.

december 23rd, 6:37am

you never expected gifts from your family, until your mother had sent a very nice (and tight) dress for the yule ball later that season.

the tag read:

“keep up the diet, i know you won’t disappoint me and your father.”

signed sincerely, walburga black.

not even a merry christmas? no happy new year? even happy holidays or well wishes would’ve been better. but that’s not how your parents functioned.

you heard a excited gasp from Dorcas.

“that is beautiful, y/n!!”

she squealed, inspecting it with care.

“thank you..”

you nodded politely, while hiding the tag under your leg.

“will you wear it to the ball?”

pandora asked from her position on the sofa.

“it’s not like i have anything else.”

you laughed, watching Dorcas admire the dress.

“well, you’ll look gorgeous.”

you simply scoffed. as if.

december 23rd, 5;34pm.

you had made a bold decision, knocking on the gryffindor common room painting was certainly not on your to-do list.

after begging the fat lady for the password, you successfully got in.

peter was the only one in sight, reading a some sort of book by the scorching fire.

“peter?”

“merlin, y/n. don’t sneak up on me.”

he jolted, running a hand through his messy hair.

“sorry, i just— needed to know, how is he?”

“who, sirius?”

“mhm.”

“he’s great, better than ever actually.”

“oh.”

was that your favorite word? it must’ve been.

“has he thought of us? me and reggie, i mean.”

“he hasn’t thought about the blacks in ages, why?”

the blacks? what the fuck? doesn’t he mean his family?

“the… the blacks?”

you responded, not really grasping at what he was telling her.

“well… euphemia has practically made him her son, so…”

you cleared the lump in your throat.

“r-right, of course.”

“do you need to see him?”

would you like too? yes, but you didn’t need to.

“um.. not at the moment, no.”

“alright, well… he probably won’t be to pleased that you’re in here.”

“whys that?”

“he says your just like that monster that lives in your house, and that he wants nothing to do with you.”

“he said that?”

you scoffed.

“it’s like he doesn’t even know me anymore.”

“hey, you were the one who screamed at him?”

“…what?”

“you screamed at him, when he left?”

“no i didn’t!”

you got a bit defensive.

“if i were to believe that id go get sirius, but something tells me he won’t believe you either.”

“merlin, what else has that fuckface said about me?”

“it’s not just him, y/n. it’s everyone.”

“what?”

that’s when the rumors pooled in.

“people are saying at y/n is a walking copy of walburga black.”

“shes the biggest blood-suprematist.”

“i feel so bad for sirius, having to live with two monsters like that.”

“dear, any sensible person would know those things aren’t true.”

Dorcas rubbed the small of your back, while Barty crouched (get it?) beside your face.

“b-but sirius said it himself! i’m just like her, aren’t i??”

you cried out, the mascara tears staining Barty’s pillow case.

“doll, we could just murder them all and every problem you’ve ever had—“

“shut it, junior! that’s not what she needs or wants!”

“would be nice.”

“violence isn’t an answer.”

thank godric for Dorcas Meadows and her level of sanity.

“he hates me now, it’s like he doesn’t even know me!”

“i’m sure he doesn’t hate you…”

“but he does, dorcas. he hates me.”

you spent the rest of the night sobbing in Barty and Dorcas’ embrace.

the rumors were a key reason why Regulus had been spending more time in detention.

you’d be surprised how many noses had been broken and bleeding if your name came out of anyone’s filthy mouth.

“so, little brother. what’s got you in here, for the fourth time this week?”

he wanted to punch his brothers smug grin off his face.

“unlike you, i’m attempting to salvage our sisters reputation.”

“what? the reputation she’s built for being mummy’s favorite?”

“you don’t even know her, sirius! you just guess how she is. you’ve barely even spoken to her since she was eleven! who was there for her first date? her first owls? her first boyfriend? her first breakup? i was! and you haven’t cared about her for years! the poor thing gets submitted to lifelong torture and trauma because he is mums favorite! i’ve watched her starve herself, binge eat, then throw it all up because that.. that creature has forced her to be under 105 pounds, that is insane! but you will never, ever understand that because you, sirius black, are a fool!”

regulus had never shouted so loud, and sirius looked bewildered and beyond confused.

“w-what?”

he simply replied.

regulus’ words must’ve packed a punch.

#marauders era #fem!reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders #taylor swift #fanfiction #regulus black #black!fem!reader

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