#or use black paint that was another goal of mine; to never use black paint

[wekillitwithfire]

having one of those days where you don’t draw for like a week and then you pick of the pencil and it’s like you unlock some new part of your brain and drawing has never been easier nor quite as fun

[astrangetorpedo]

IN INTERVIEW

Julien Baker, the interview 6/8/2016

At just 20 years old, Julien Baker gave us last year a first album of intense and rare emotional force, the superb Sprained Ankle reviewed here . A moving record that left a deep and lasting mark on me. It was therefore impossible to miss the young American's arrival in Paris and not to take advantage of the opportunity to try to get to know this outstanding artist a little better. A meeting was thus organized thanks to the invaluable help of Sean, her manager, in a café in the 12th arrondissement, two hours before the young lady's very first Parisian concert, on May 24. A one-on-one meeting that revealed to me an adorable and voluble young woman, incredibly touching and sincere, and above all determined to seize life with all her might! A moment of exchange and sharing that I am not ready to forget.

Hello Julien!

Julien Baker : Hello!

First of all, thank you very much for granting us this interview. I am a big fan of your music and it makes me really happy to meet you!

Oh, thank you! It's a great pleasure for me too, you know! I still can't believe that people like my music enough to want to meet me to talk about it. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, really!

Perfect! Let’s start at the beginning of your story. I read that you’ve been making music for a while now. Could you summarize the journey that led you to where you are today?

Yeah, sure! I started listening to music in middle school. It was rock, I was really into it with painted nails, black eye makeup, all that stuff! [laughs] Then I started playing in bands, punk bands mostly. Then I joined Forrister which is the band I still play in today. We were playing shows in cities around our area. Then I went to college and a friend of mine who worked in a studio there offered me to record with him for free. Since my band couldn't be there, I did it solo, without any specific plans. I put the album out on Bandcamp for $2 or $3 a copy.

That's when Sean [Julien's manager] contacted me and suggested we release the album in a more official and professional way. I told him that I was actually in a band, Forrister, and that no one would be interested in me as a solo artist. He insisted and even though I didn't believe it at all, I agreed to give it a try. I'll always remember the day he called me to tell me that NPR [National Public Radio] was going to play my single. I hung up crying and immediately called my mom all excited to tell her the news! But then, as things seemed to start to take off for me, I started to doubt myself. I felt guilty towards the rest of the band, thinking that they would resent me for doing this project without them. So I called the drummer and asked him what they thought and he said they were just proud and super happy and not mad at me in any way. So I kept going and here I am! I never thought I would come to Europe and do all this, it's crazy, really!

During the band's time, did you already have this desire to write your own songs?

I don't think I had any real unfulfilled desire to do this.

But you were writing?

Yes, I wrote my own songs. But not because the band was holding me back or preventing me from doing it within the collective. It's just that sometimes you write songs but they don't fit the moment. So I put those lyrics aside, like that, without any specific goal. I've always written and played in different bands. There was enough space for all that, things didn't have to be done exclusively in one framework or another.

Were your parents musicians?

Not really. Well my dad bought me a guitar and showed me how to play it. So I started playing by practicing at home on my own. I also took piano lessons but for a very short time. My teacher didn't really like me because I didn't work hard enough. I just played by ear without wanting to learn to read music and he didn't like that. So I taught myself. But my parents were big music fans. They played records all the time at home. When I was younger I wanted to go to a concert, my dad would come with me to make sure I was safe! He was the only adult in the middle of all these tattooed and pierced kids! [laughs] Oddly enough it never bothered me. When he made a surprise appearance at the Bowery Ballroom for my concert in New York, I was so proud! He and my mom have always been a great support!

This is really great!

Yes I know !

In addition to being an author and composer, you are also a student. Are you still going to university?

I just finished my semester. It's currently summer vacation. But I think I'm going to take a break in the fall. I completed the theoretical part of my literature course thanks to online courses. The last thing I need to fully validate my teaching diploma is the practical part, in school with students. I tried to do it last fall but it's complicated to carry out both projects at the same time: give lessons during the week then take a plane to California or New York on the weekend to play a concert, before returning to teach on Monday morning! So I'm going to take a break to devote all my time to music.

Do you want to teach one day?

I think I would really enjoy teaching. I love it. As a teenager I was a summer camp counselor, I love children. So yes it would be really cool to teach!

You studied literature. Did that influence your way of writing?

Yes, totally! I try to feed myself as much as I can from all these different ways of perceiving life and emotions that I find in books. It enriches me intellectually speaking. I have the feeling of learning new things about myself each time I discover a new author and this is then reflected in my writing I think, consciously or unconsciously.

Are you familiar with French literature?

Voltaire! I often joke with my professor friends that I would really like to have a big Voltaire and Cervantes tattoo! I already have a Gabriel Garcia Marquez tattoo [Julien then shows me his 2-part tattoo on the inside of his 2 wrists]…

Is he your favorite writer?

One of my favorites, I can't choose just one! And so when my students would complain that Voltaire is an old man who's not cool, I could show them my Voltaire tattoo and prove to them that it's really cool! [laughs] Reading Candide really changed my life. It was incredible! I think the translation of the title is The Optimist , which is quite ironic. Cervantes wrote Don Quixote and we have this word in English, "quixotic" which means optimistic but optimistic to the extreme, to the point where even if everything is going wrong in your life and you know it, you continue to believe in it despite everything. There is a really romantic and admirable dimension to that attitude I find. Same for Candide where there is this quote that I always come back to when I feel really bad and which says: "I wanted to kill myself a hundred times, but I still loved life" . I think I cried when I first read that sentence. Anyway, I could talk about literature for hours, don't drag me down that dangerous path! [laughs]

Haha, ok. So back to the music! Listening to your album I couldn't help but think of two other artists I really like: Sharon Van Etten and TORRES…

I love TORRES!

Me too! I even did my very first interview with her!

Wow! She's amazing!

Do you agree with this comparison even if the artists in question do not come from the same scene as you?

I totally agree with this comparison! As a teenager I only listened to punk and thought that anything that wasn't punk was worthless. Then I grew up as a musician and learned to appreciate all styles. When you really love music, you love an artist as long as their music is honest and good, no matter what the style. It doesn't matter if it's hip hop or country or whatever!

I totally agree!

And so I'm a big fan of TORRES! I loved her first album, the one before Sprinter . The song Honey is the very first one I heard from her.

The same !

And oh my god, what a song! I played with her in Chicago, I was added as the opening act at the very last minute, I felt so honored! On my way to the dressing room, I ran into her and as I was saying "Oh sorry, I don't want to bother you" she said "No, come on, this is a shared space, you have as much right to be here as I do" and she kindly invited me in. As for Sharon, it's funny because the first time I met her, she asked me to have lunch with her, can you imagine having lunch in New York with Sharon Van Etten! And she told me she was also going to invite her friend Mackenzie [Mackenzie Scott aka TORRES]. But our phones died and we couldn't get a hold of her. So in Chicago TORRES couldn't make the connection, I was just the little girl at the door!

Excellent! Are there any other musical influences that you would claim?

Do you know David Banzan?

Nope…

Ok. There's a band called Pedro The Lion and David Bazan is the lead singer. He influenced me quite a bit. And do you know Death Cab For Cutie?

Yes of course !

They were the first non-punk band I listened to. At the time I only listened to loud and fast music, but when I heard Transatlanticism for the first time it was a shock, everything changed. They really meant a lot to me.

Your texts are very strong and very personal. When you wrote them, did you think about the impact they could have on those around you first and then on the general public?

Well, at first, I didn't imagine that this solo album would lead me anywhere, I was convinced that my music would only be made with my band Forrister. So when I released the album on Bandcamp, I really thought that only my friends would listen to it. So I wrote all these songs like that, just for me, without really thinking about the scope of the lyrics. And I'm ultimately happy that I didn't think about it because if I had known what was waiting for me, I think I would have most certainly changed things, I would have probably been more reserved in my words. But if it's difficult for me to show my vulnerability, I realize that it's totally worth it when young people come up to me after concerts to tell me that my music has helped them in difficult times in their lives. It's of course a little embarrassing for me to share such intimate things but if these things make others feel good, then I think it's worth it in the end.

But isn't it a little scary to expose yourself so completely naked and transparent? It's so brave, I don't know if I could do it myself!

Well, you see, it's exactly the same for me, I'm not sure I would have been able to do it if I had known everything in advance! But now that it has happened, I feel that from now on I have the right, the license to be brave. Perhaps it was the plans of destiny or God, something like that.

And isn't it too difficult for you to sing songs every day that inevitably bring you back to painful moments?

I think there are two options. Option one: I can sing these songs every night, let them take me back in time and feel sorry for myself. Option two: there is the quote from this poet that I love who says that all the horrible things in life just need to be seen from a different and courageous perspective. Things that seem bad can indeed turn out to be good in the end. So I have chosen to let the dark and sad aspects of my songs become pretexts to be positive and happy. Because yes, all these things have happened to me but if that had not been the case, I probably would never have written these lyrics and I would not be here today in Paris talking to you, Laurence! In the grand scheme of things, everything has a meaning and works for our good in the end.

That's very beautiful what you say! [laughs] To talk about lighter things, this is your first time in Europe, isn't it?

Yes !

How do you feel?

I love it! I have such a good time. Well I don't sleep much... [laughs]

Is it the time difference or the excitement?

Well now it's the excitement! But a week ago it was also the jet lag [laughs]. Imagine, we traveled for over 30 hours straight to get here! I first took a plane to Richmond and then a train to Washington DC. We then took a flight to Iceland where we took another flight to Copenhagen. Once there we took a train but due to a problem on the tracks we had to take a bus that took us to another train! When we arrived at the hotel, we were totally exhausted! [laughs] It was 11 o'clock in the evening but at that time of year the sun hadn't set because we were so far north and my body didn't understand anything at all! But hey after a good night's sleep everything was better! And now if I don't sleep it's just because I don't want to miss anything, not a single minute you know! I thought I would never be able to afford to travel and once again it seems that Destiny's plans are extraordinarily kind to me. I feel so grateful and lucky!

And that's just the beginning!

I hope so! But you know, even if everything had to stop, well in any case it would have been much, much more than I could have imagined! I am so grateful for everything that is happening to me!

Are there any particular places you want to discover?

Sean has been here before and wants to show me places he liked. Today he took me to see the Sacré-Cœur which is beautiful. On my side, there are also places I would like to visit, especially in Barcelona, ​​because I am majoring in Spanish literature. I would like to go to the café where Picasso had his very first exhibition, long before he was famous. I would also like to see the Sagrada Familia, Gaudi's work, visit a museum, buy a Viva Cataluña t-shirt and eat paella. I am so excited to be able to do all these things!

That's great! But it's going to take you some time to do all of this!

We are staying there for the whole festival [Primavera Sound Festival]. So we should have some time. Of course we won't sleep much because in the evening I also want to attend the concerts!

You'll sleep when you get home!

Exactly! Since I am a big coffee drinker, one of my friends gave me a badge for my jacket that says "I will sleep when I am dead" ! [laughs] There are indeed so many things to experience in one life! [laughs]

And what are your plans for after the European tour?

We're actually going to be touring until the end of the year.

Will you come back to Europe?

We're going to Australia in November I think. I can't wait! We're also going to tour the States so as for Europe I don't really know... And then I hope to have some free time early next year. I'm always writing new songs that I play live. I must have 30 demos on my computer and I'd really like to record them. So it would be great if I could get into the studio early next year!

Last question: do you have one or more musical recommendations to share with us?

Lucy Dacus!

Oh I love it!

We played together in Washington DC. I had never heard her songs before Washington and I remember hearing the lyrics to Map On A Wall which say "I hope good comes from good and good comes from bad anyway" and I started crying all by myself watching her play. Her music is so beautiful, so powerful! And we have so much in common: questions of spirituality, sexuality and faith, questions about gender too and the place of girls in rock music. We are really like two halves of the same person. We have the same booker and were approached by the same label. And when I saw her again in Richmond I knew we operated exactly the same way. So our biggest fear is that we will one day become jaded and arrogant. We want to remain grateful, sincere and enthusiastic. There are so many people who do this for a long time and end up jaded. It's really great to find someone who feels exactly the same way you do, and that's the case with Lucy. We're platonic soulmates! She's a very, very dear friend.

You must tell her at all costs to come and shoot in Europe and in Paris because there are people waiting for her here!

Promise! I'll send her a message as soon as I have wifi!

Lucy Dacus! A perfect choice! Thank you very much Julien!

Thank you! It was great!

photos by jean-marc ferré 📸

interview by lolo from paris (who has great footage of that paris show on his youtube account) 📝

wayback link for the interview 🔗

[boogiewrites]

a03 tag game

rules: post the first lines of your 10 most recently published AO3 stories. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

I'll tag @chestylarouxx no pressure to actually do this, this took a few minutes to put together and I know you're busy. <3 Thanks @blue-mossbird for tagging me!

Here's mine! I'm all over the place.

Hindsight’s Always 19/84 (single dad eddie munson x reader)

You walked down the stairs from your apartment onto the street. The sunset painted the town in nostalgia. Muted colors like looking back into your memories surrounded you. It all felt different and somehow exactly the same. You’d been back for about a month now. But with the exception of holidays, you haven't spent any time in Hawkins for over a decade. You didn’t even go to your 10-year high school reunion. You’d had no expectations of coming back here. Certainly not without an exit date firmly scheduled prior. But life is funny that way. You never expect to get divorced when you get married. You never expect to quit what once was your dream job. You never expect to move back to your hometown in some potentially pathetic, you hadn't decided yet, attempt to find yourself. Along with a lot of other lessons you were finally learning, expecting the unexpected was one being driven into your life hard.

Repentance (eddie munson x reader best friends to enemies to lovers)

“One day I’m gonna be the prettiest, most popular girl in school, you’ll see!” you shouted proudly, full of optimism at the age of 12 to your best friend.

“Uh-huh, sure.” he nodded, rolling his eyes with a crooked smile.

“I am!”

“People like us don’t get popular.” he sighed, the defeat of 2 more years of life experience, a teenager in middle school who was getting even more life lessons than those he’d already learned the hard way at a young age.

“Well…” you pouted your lips and sunk back in thought. “Can I still be the prettiest?” you perked up with newfound hope.

“Sure.” he chuckled to himself. “You can be the prettiest.”

Now, 6 years later you’d achieved that bold goal. But you hadn’t… couldn’t have known what it was going to cost you. The biggest hurt and the first was losing your best friend. The very same boy that had told you you could do it (at least half of it anyway) In hindsight, you wish you’d listened.

Seeing Stars( eddie munson x f!oc witch)

It was a hot summer night, the heat coming off the asphalt as he made his way up the driveway to the front door. This would probably be the last party of the summer before school started back. Since it wasn’t being thrown by a high schooler, Eddie was inclined to go. He hoped there’d be good drinks and weed since things had been slim since Rick had gone to jail. He wasn’t excited for school to start back, only eager to get it the fuck over with this time. The third time’s a charm after all.

Cherry Bomb (eddie munson x f!oc cherry shy/virgin)

As of late, she’d been regretting her track record of chronic GOOD decision making in her life. However, the trust earned from being a good girl for 18 years was paying off and allowing her to savor tiny tastes of rebellion for the first time.

She couldn’t have stood out more from the other patrons of the bar on the outskirts of town. The doorman had put a big X on the back of her hand when she’d shown him her ID. He was half surprised she wasn’t trying to pretend to be older, if she hadn’t been in the Hawkins High shirt, she might’ve been able to pull it off.

Another Man (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x reader)

It wasn’t like you to stand and gawk. Let alone at a man, but before you was the man you’d known for months and grown quite fond of. His shy and wounded exterior was now gone and showing a certain and practiced fighter with nearly black eyes and no inkling of hesitation in his body. Your lamp sparked on the ground at his feet, the room had gone dark. The only light to illuminate the interior of your home was the light from lamp posts outside and a faint glow from a kitchen fixture above the stove.

You watched, breathing heavily from exertion and now rising arousal. His forearms flexed, just visible outside of a loved and well-worn utility shirt, cuffs rolled up tightly just below a now strained upper sleeve where another man’s throat was being choked. Warm chocolate eyes were black under a heavy brow, no longer puppy eyes that you’d teased him for. His trusty hat still stayed on a head of messy waves that was always just too long of looking groomed. The unconscious body hits the floor and you’re left gazing at a different man than you’d known just a few minutes prior.

Choking on Sapphires (Alfie solomons x f!oc Genevieve crime/romance)

You find yourself making a handful of trips back from your home near Paris as uses for your particular sets of skills are to be had with the Peaky Blinders. You’d spoken on all holidays over the telephone and visited on a few. You speak to Polly most frequently, mostly of Charlie as you sent all the children gifts often when you traveled. 

For the first time, you initiate the call to Tommy in the wake of your fast decision to move to London. You make your way out to his country home. You explain to Tommy of your intentions of starting new for yourself. You have a different last name to hide your nobility connections and forged paperwork and records to weave together a fake past. You tell him about your legal business plans, your honey, and your berries. You whisper to him about your illegal business, mostly art theft, some jewels and a touch of persuading others to do your bidding because of your connections and violence. The latter he was a skill he was well acquainted with. He welcomes you with a closed mouth smile.

Never Break the Chain (javier pena x f!oc thief/enemies to lovers)

The air was as still and silent as a hot Texas summer night could be. The buzz of the insects and the rustle and call of the nocturnal animals felt familiar to Esme and were a white noise that made her feel she was home. The moon was high and bright, illuminating the rushing and recently risen river below her. Summer storms had made their way through, a brief break to the smothering heat and filling the formerly waning river bed. It made for a great day on these rare summer occurrences, floating about lazily and working on her tan, drinks were plentiful between friends and you could let any stress you had floated down the river after you left. As she gripped the old iron railing of the backroad bridge, feeling the failing paint flaking under her anxious hands, she knew those golden days of youth and summer were falling behind her now. The river would take her trouble away tonight, but in the morning a whole new set would emerge in their place. Even so, this is what she wanted, deep down she knew the conversation she was about to have wasn’t going to be one with a happy ending, and she’d prepared for that. Still, until she heard the words from his lips herself, that last bit of naivete she had left would hope against hope that this night wouldn’t end in tears.

Burning Star ( din djarin x reader )

You couldn’t recall the exact BBY you’d met The Mandalorian. But then again, you weren’t even sure of your birth year, so dates tended to blend into one another in your memory. You recalled every encounter though, every mission he’d asked you to assist him on, the times you’d healed him and his ship, and especially the time he’d come to your planet for refuge with a strange but endearing little green creature. Your small, backwater planet didn’t have much. But that was one of the main things that had drawn you to it. Your parents were nomads, and you’d adopted the same after their death. So you made yourself a home on a green little planet after years of travel. It homed tiny hubs for weary travelers dotted along with the mountainous surface. But the one they called Mando always came to yours.

NO. 9: The Body (diego hargreeves x f!oc discovery of superpowers)

From the view from her apartment window, only slightly obscured by the fire escape, Eve looked out on the gloomy sunrise falling over the New York City street below. The fog and steam from the light drizzle on the street grates blended with the haze of her coffee cup as she took a moment to gather herself, feel the calm at the moment before the chaos of her job began.

Eve was all about function over fashion these days. Her childhood had held many questionable punk ensembles and thrifted, or even stolen pieces that were worn down to bare threads. But now her clothes usually consisted of scrubs, so she opted for comfort usually. She savors the last of her coffee and the peace of her small home and makes her way out into the world to begin another long, chaotic 12-hour shift.

Mae Flowers (alfie solomons x f!oc Mae white witch/immortal soulmate au)

The year is 2018, a long, long way away from his birth year of 1893. He stands in front of the Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies in New Orleans, Louisiana. A place that had been around longer than he had. This place and the supreme, Fiona Goode had served as a haven and an ally for him for many years. It seemed no matter the type of witchcraft, save for the spat between the witches and the voodoo practitioners, this place could serve as a resting place, a pause in whatever journey anyone with powers might find themselves on.

He'd been drawn to New Orleans, his inner voice, his darkness kept pointing it out to him, whispering it to him. It'd all started about a year ago, only growing in intensity since. Once the odd dreams had started, and for the life he had lived, odd was saying something. Once they had started, his usual blackness, an endless, timeless void that lay before him in his unconsciousness, there started to appear small specks of light.

Nightmares were eased with more pleasant thoughts and memories that were not his own. Once he felt his darkness recoil from the light in his dreams he knew something had changed, something was different. He'd heard of awakenings like these from others of his kind but it'd been so long that he'd been alone in his own dark soul that he had thought that he would be alone there forever.

[fragments-written]

7 to 10 Tiny Things to Write About

Write about a time you broke:

7.  a bone

I sprained my finger playing a game of netball. I was ten years old and the ball hit the tip of my finger hard and fast, jarred it, pushed it back. It hurt. Badly. After a moment the game stopped around me and I was ushered off of the frigidly cold court and got to stand next to the warm pillar of my father. My finger was wrapped and soon I got to go home.

I played it up, and next Saturday I didn’t have to go to netball. I was very pleased, and my parents never took me to the doctor - I never expected they would. Some complaining convinced them it must have been broken. Another girl took my place as goal attack on the team for the rest of the season and she was good, nobody missed me. I never played netball again.

I have never broken a bone.

8. a heart

Air could neither escape nor enter my chest, it was tight. The air was so hot. My head spun. We were outside, where I had led him to try and get some more space. More air. 

The words that I didn’t want to say, didn’t mean, they spilled out. He ran away on long legs, and my own heart strained in my chest. Another moment where it felt like I was dying, and I didn't know why. And it continues. I have experienced the regret of my panic more than I have the love for which I yearned. 

9. the law

[note:fiction haha]

It was nighttime. The music that danced around the basement queer bar with the black-painted ceiling blocked out any other noise. 

The woman’s energy swirled around me, one hand encircling my waist, the other in my sweat-slicked hair. Where her skin touched mine, where it ground, where it brushed, I tingled. She was a live wire, and she was coiling with me. 

Red lips brushed my throat, a tongue licked across the chain of my necklace and my knees went weak. 

She bit my ear lobe, and then yelled in my ear that we should get out of here. Let's have some different fun. 

A group of her friends and acquaintances, the party spirits of the night, bustled out with us, and we stumbled and danced to the patch of grass around the corner. The air was fresh and it was heaven against my skin. 

The small crowd of us huddled around a green-painted park bench. I gathered in, a warm arm around my hips. 

Girl you want some? I was offered a bill. I inhaled. She kissed me. 

We screamed in pleasure. 

10. a promise

It was a moment with lovebombing and alcohol and camaraderie. A small secret divulged, a single word, promised safe more than a decade before. Those who were told won’t remember, but the guilt, the pangs in my chest, they will remember, as the body does. 

[blackwoolncrown]

For the past few days, a heatwave has glowered over the Pacific Northwest, forcing temperatures in the region to a record-breaking 118ºF. Few people in the region—neither Americans nor Canadians—have air-conditioning. Stores sold out of new AC units in hours as a panicked public sought a reasonable solution to the emergency. Unfortunately, air-conditioning is part of what’s causing the unusual heatwave in the first place.

We came close to destroying all life on Earth during the Cold War, with the threat of nuclear annihilation. But we may have come even closer during the cooling war, when the rising number of Americans with air conditioners—and a refrigerant industry that fought regulation—nearly obliterated the ozone layer. We avoided that environmental catastrophe, but the fundamental problem of air conditioning has never really been resolved.

Mechanical cooling appeared in the early 1900s not for comfort but for business. In manufacturing, the regulation of temperature—“process cooling”—controlled the quality of commodities like cotton, tobacco, and chewing gum. In 1903, Alfred Wolff installed the first cooling system for people at the New York Stock Exchange because comfortable traders yielded considerably higher stock returns. Only in the ’20s did “commercial cooling” appear. On Memorial Day weekend 1925, Willis Carrier debuted the first centrifugal air-conditioning system at the Rivoli Theater in Midtown Manhattan. Previously, theaters had shut down in the summer. With air-conditioning, the Rivoli became “the talk of Broadway” and inaugurated the summer blockbuster.

-another direct tie to capitalism. Everything born out of colonio-capitalism carries its toxic mark. Article totally not under the cut for those who can’t pay for Time. It honestly paints a really clear picture of the situation. Bolding mine.-

“It’s time we become more comfortable with discomfort. Our survival may depend on it.“

Before World War II, almost no one had air-conditioning at home. Besides being financially impractical and culturally odd, it was also dangerous. Chemical refrigerants like sulfur dioxide and methyl chloride filled most fridges and coolers, and leaks could kill a child, poison a hospital floor, even blow up a basement. Everything changed with the invention of Freon in 1928. Non-toxic and non-explosive, Freon was hailed as a “miracle.” It made the modernist skyscraper—with its sealed windows and heat-absorbing materials—possible. It made living in the desert possible. The small, winter resort of Phoenix, Arizona, became a year-round attraction. Architecture could now ignore the local climate. Anywhere could be 65ºF with 55% humidity. Cheap materials made boxy, suburban tract housing affordable to most Americans, but the sealed-up, stifling design of these homes required air-conditioning to keep the heat at bay. Quickly, air-conditioning transitioned from a luxury to a necessity. By 1980, more than half of all U.S. homes were air-conditioned. And despite millions of Black Americans fleeing the violence of Jim Crow, the South saw greater in-migration than out-migration for the first time—a direct result of AC. The American car was similarly transformed. In 1955, only 10 percent of American cars had air-conditioning. Thirty years later, it came standard.

The cooling boom also altered the way we work. Now, Americans could work anywhere at any hour of the day. Early ads for air-conditioning promised not health or comfort but productivity. The workday could proceed no matter the season or the climate. Even in the home, A/C brought comfort as a means to rest up before the next work day.

The use of air-conditioning was as symbolic as it was material. It conveyed class status. Who did and didn’t have air-conditioning often fell starkly along the color line, too, especially in the South. It conquered the weather and, with it, the need to sweat or squirm or lie down in the summer swelter. In that sense, air-conditioning allowed Americans to transcend their physical bodies, that long-sought fantasy of the Puritan settlers: to be in the world but not of it. Miracle, indeed.

But it came with a price. As it turned out, Freon isn’t exactly non-toxic. Freon is a chlorofluorocarbon (CFC), which depletes the ozone layer and also acts as a global warming gas. By 1974, the industrialized world was churning out CFCs, chemicals that had never appeared on the planet in any significant quantities, at a rate of one million metric tons a year—the equivalent mass of more than 500,000 cars. That was the year atmospheric chemists Sherry Rowland and Mario Molina first hypothesized that the chlorine molecules in CFCs might be destroying ozone in the stratosphere by bonding to free oxygen atoms and disrupting the atmosphere’s delicate chemistry. By then, CFCs were used not only as refrigerants but also as spray can propellants, manufacturing degreasers, and foam-blowing agents.

The ozone layer absorbs the worst of the sun’s ultraviolet radiation. Without stratospheric ozone, life as we know it is impossible. A 1 percent decline in the ozone layer’s thickness results in thousands of new cases of skin cancer. Greater depletion would lead to crop failures, the collapse of oceanic food systems, and, eventually, the destruction of all life on Earth.

In the 1980s, geophysicist Joseph Farman confirmed the Rowland-Molina hypothesis when he detected a near-absence of ozone over Antarctica—the “Ozone Hole.” A fierce battle ensued among industry, scientists, environmentalists, and politicians, but in 1987 the U.S signed the Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer, which ended Freon production.

The Montreal Protocol remains the world’s only successful international environmental treaty with legally binding emissions targets. Annual conferences to re-assess the goals of the treaty make it a living document, which is revised in light of up-to-date scientific data. For instance, the Montreal Protocol set out only to slow production of CFCs, but, by 1997, industrialized countries had stopped production entirely, far sooner than was thought possible. The world was saved through global cooperation.

The trouble is that the refrigerants replacing CFCs, hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs), turned out to be terrible for the planet, too. While they have an ozone-depleting potential of zero, they are potent greenhouse gases. They absorb infrared radiation from the sun and Earth and block heat that normally escapes into outer space. Carbon dioxide and methane do this too, but HFCs trap heat at rates thousands of times higher. Although the number of refrigerant molecules in the atmosphere is far fewer than those of other greenhouse gases, their destructive force, molecule for molecule, is far greater.

In three decades, the production of HFCs grew exponentially. Today, HFCs provide the cooling power to almost any air conditioner in the home, in the office, in the supermarket, or in the car. They cool vaccines, blood for transfusions, and temperature-sensitive medications, as well as the data processors and computer servers that make up the internet—everything from the cloud to blockchains. In 2019, annual global warming emissions from HFCs were the equivalent of 175 million metric tons of carbon dioxide.

In May, the EPA signaled it will begin phasing down HFCs and replacing them with more climate-friendly alternatives. Experts agree that a swift end to HFCs could prevent as much as 0.5ºC of warming over the next century—a third of the way to the goals of the Paris Climate Agreement.

Yet regardless of the refrigerant used, cooling still requires energy. According to the U.S. Energy Information Administration, air-conditioning accounts for nearly a fifth of annual U.S. residential electricity use. This is more energy for cooling overall and per capita than in any other nation. Most Americans consider the cost of energy only in terms of their electricity bills. But it’s also costing us the planet. Joe Biden’s announcement to shift toward a renewable energy infrastructure obscures the uncertainty of whether that infrastructure could meet Americans’ outrageously high energy demand—much of it for cooling that doesn’t save lives. Renewable energy infrastructure can take us only so far. The rest of the work is cultural. From Freon to HFCs, we keep replacing chemical refrigerants without taking a hard look at why we’re cooling in the first place.

Comfort cooling began not as a survival strategy but as a business venture. It still carries all those symbolic meanings, though its currency now works globally, cleaving the world into civilized cooling and barbaric heat. Despite what we assume, as a means of weathering a heat wave, individual air-conditioning is terribly ineffective. It works only for those who can afford it. But even then, their use in urban areas only makes the surrounding micro-climate hotter, sometimes by a factor of 10ºF, actively threatening the lives of those who don’t have access to cooling. (The sociologist Eric Klinenberg has brilliantly studied how, in a 1995 Chicago heat wave, about twice as many people died than in a comparable heat wave forty years earlier due to the city’s neglect of certain neighborhoods and social infrastructure.) Ironically, research suggests that exposure to constant air-conditioning can prevent our bodies from acclimatizing to hot weather, so those who subject themselves to “thermal monotony” are, in the end, making themselves more vulnerable to heat-related illness.

And, of course, air-conditioning only works when you have the electricity to power it. During heatwaves, when air-conditioning is needed most, blackouts are frequent. On Sunday, with afternoon temperatures reaching 112ºF around Portland, the power grid failed for more than 6,300 residences under control by Portland General Electrics.

The troubled history of air-conditioning suggests not that we chuck it entirely but that we focus on public cooling, on public comfort, rather than individual cooling, on individual comfort. Ensuring that the most vulnerable among the planet’s human inhabitants can keep cool through better access to public cooling centers, shade-giving trees, safe green spaces, water infrastructure to cool, and smart design will not only enrich our cities overall, it will lower the temperature for everyone. It’s far more efficient this way.

To do so, we’ll have to re-orient ourselves to the meaning of air-conditioning. And to comfort. Privatized air-conditioning survived the ozone crisis, but its power to separate—by class, by race, by nation, by ability—has survived, too. Comfort for some comes at the expense of the life on this planet.

It’s time we become more comfortable with discomfort. Our survival may depend on it.

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Retribution (5)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOUR (18+ ONLY. I WILL BLOCK YOU), human rights violations, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, mentions of character death, fluff if you squint,

A/N: Okay okay. I’m finally happy with how this turned out. Goddamn that’s a lot of words. I’ll see you all in the party in the comments and reblogs! I love reading what you think. Don’t be shy. Jump in!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

[gif not mine. credit to: this glorious gif post.]

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:5 Lemons

2 missions.

A 50/50 chance of getting Salvacion.

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were on the verge of getting lightheaded from the anticipation. A decade of chasing this bastard and this was the closest you had ever gotten to him. The man was not only deadly in skill, but always seemed to manage to give you the slip every single time. Forcing yourself to face the life you left was worth it if it meant finally avenging Lily.

The briefings the past week had been long, but they were important to make sure everyone was prepared to end this. You were minutes away now from shipping off to the mission and your whole body was buzzing.

This was it.

There were two locations that you had to hit at the same time. Two locations with large shipments that you had to stop from reaching its destination. The teams needed to be split.

"Let's go over this one more time," Steve started, fully suited up in black that was truly a far cry from his old blue and red ensemble. "I'll be leading a team into the shipment yards with Bucky and Nem at the front. Sam will be on air support. Billy will manage a team of snipers in the surrounding area."

This was the smaller of locations, but with the larger shipment. The location itself entailed a more strategic approach. You weren't happy that there was a chance that Salvacion would be at the other location, but having Frank on that team put you somewhat at ease. He understood more than anyone how important this was to you and he promised he would take Salvacion alive. He was yours to kill.

Frank always kept his promises.

"I'll be leading the other team into the industrial district," Frank continued, his signature vest strapped tight across his chest. "Pietro and Matt will cover the perimeter and I'll be charging in with Nat and Wanda."

Their location was more complicated. It was too close to the residential district and the warehouses there ran 24/7. There was a high risk of civilian casualty if they weren't careful which was why almost everyone who was powered was assigned to that group. They needed every capability they could pull to make sure no innocent blood was spilled.

"Good," Steve nodded. "We'll both have a group of agents with us too. They've been briefed and are prepping transport as we speak. We leave in 20 minutes."

Everyone nodded their understanding, grabbing their gear and heading down to the transport docks. There was a fleet of cars standing by that would be used, gassed up and ready to go. Your hands were drumming repeatedly on your vest, itching to just get on the road. Frank and Matt lingered with you before they joined the rest of their group.

The towering marine stepped up close to you and tightened the buckles of your bulletproof vest, wishing you would have accepted the offer of better gear from the Avengers but also knowing it was hypocritical of him when he declined as well.

It just wasn't your style.

It was his own damn fault for training you in his own combat style. He had no doubt of your capability, but still he worried about you. He always worried about you and he felt a sense of responsibility toward you after finding you tortured within an inch of your life.

"Stay close to Steve, sweetheart."

You snorted, but a glance back at Steve who was already looking at you with a raised eyebrow made you grumble and relent. "Fine."

"Good girl," Frank chuckled, before leaning in to press a firm kiss on your lips as he held you by the buckles of your vest. You smiled into the kiss, feeling the steady protection and reassurance that he always brings.

He stepped away for Matt to get his turn. This was a tradition that just developed naturally between the four of you. A kiss before danger. A promise to keep safe. A promise to come home.

Matt took your face in both hands and kissed the breath out of you as if he was trying to outdo Frank. It wasn't uncommon. He was always more aggressive with his affections, always as if he was scared you might suddenly slip away from his life and you were happy to reassure him every time that you weren't going anywhere. He chuckled when you bit his lip, beating him to it. He gave you one more peck before stepping aside.

Billy came closer to your side and slung his arm around your shoulders, chuckling as he nuzzled his nose against the side of your face. It was amusing him to no end at how easily you were folding for Steve. It was a nice change of pace from the three of them never being able to deny you anything.

Most especially Billy.

"We're definitely keeping Steve around. I think I like you compliant," he snickered, turning your head toward him with a finger under your chin. He planted a quick chaste peck on your lips. Your eyebrows quirked at the unusual behavior.

"What you're not gonna try to outdo me too?" Frank teased.

"Nem knows I do my best kissing elsewhere. Don't you, pretty girl?" Billy winked at you and you rolled your eyes. You smacked him in the chest but didn’t comment further. He wasn't wrong, but he was smug enough as it is.

You were about to turn toward the cars when you were knocked back slightly to the side by a sudden peck to your cheek. You couldn't stop the laugh when you caught Pietro's grin before he vanished again, a subtle warmth spreading in your chest. You were still smiling when you took your seat beside Steve who intertwined your hand with his and raised it to his lips, smiling that soft boyish smile against your skin that now made your stomach flip. He didn't let go of your hand throughout the ride, even as he caught Bucky's yearning gaze in the rearview mirror.

You were greeted by an ambush.

Somehow the syndicates knew that you would be coming, setting up a small army as your welcome party. A quick distress call through the comms from Frank confirmed that they were facing the same in their location.

But you couldn't focus on that.

You were too busy tearing through the goons that kept coming at you. Having two super soldiers and Sam in the thick of it with you was a blessing, but even with the other agents and Billy's sniper support you were severely overrun. You would just have to trust that the other team can handle their own.

You emptied the clips of your pistols as you trudged your way deeper into the fray, not bothering to duck or take cover from the onslaught of angry men. You tossed your empty guns to the side and drew out another, catching a few bullets in your vest.

No time to reload.

"I got you, Hedwig. Give 'em hell," Billy said in your ear.

The deadly smirk on your lips was the only warning the men in front of you got. You charged again as the adrenaline coursed through your body, bullets flying precisely into their skulls.

One. Two. Three. Four men down.

When your bullets ran out, you dropped the gun and pulled out two daggers. Your eyes narrowed as you took off into a sprint toward the closest target, weaving effortlessly through the oncoming fire.

A slice to the forearm to disarm.

A dagger up the chin.

Dead.

He dropped to the ground spluttering on his blood as you took the other dagger and sent it flying toward another's chest.

Dead.

Rough muscular arms caught you by surprise and gripped you from behind, caging you as you struggled. You saw the gun in his hand and reacted.

Break the wrist to disarm.

You smirked at the loud pop of his bones. You grabbed the gun before it dropped to the ground as you slipped a knife from your vest. The pain in his wrist caused him to loosen his hold on you, allowing you to turn to face him.

Blade to the gut.

Bullet to the face. Point blank.

Dead.

You didn't even flinch when his blood splattered across your face, joining the explosion of red already painting your figure. You could make out two more in your peripheral who dropped to the ground before they could advance on you, care of your guardian angel with a sniper rifle.

"Thank you, Blackbird," you said sweetly.

"Goddamn, doll," Bucky said, Steve stood beside him mirroring the same look of equal awe and fear.

This was the first time they had seen you in action. Hearsay and that little demo with Kim did nothing to prepare them for the sheer brutality you had when given the clear purpose to kill. You didn't hesitate. You didn't waste time. You didn't care that you were drenched in blood. You had a goal and you were going to meet it every time with ruthless violence.

This was who you were now.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" Steve came up to you looking worried after seeing you charging headlong at open gunfire.

He didn't like it. At least he had a shield. Skilled as you were, he didn't like that you were running every mission like you had a death wish. There was so much blood on you that it was difficult for him to tell if any of it was yours.

"None of the blood is mine," you dismissed, wiping your face with what was the only clean part of your sleeve. "Let's go. I hear more up ahead and Sam said that's where the shipment is."

Rounding the corner, you were faced with another cluster of goons with weapons aimed at your small group. They stood a good distance away in front of two shipping containers that were being readied for transport. Sam landed beside you along with a group of agents. Bucky pushed you behind him and Steve raised his shield to cover you both. Billy chirped in the comms that the snipers had repositioned and were ready. All of that barely registered with you, white noise against the rage that was brewing, because behind enemy lines was the goal you've been chasing for a decade.

Salvacion.

"I have to say," he drawled. His voice, the first you're hearing of now, sending a chill down your spine. "I expected more from the Avengers. You didn't even bring Iron Man. I'm disappointed."

"Give up the serum," Steve growled.

"No. I don't think I will," he answered. "Kill them all."

All hell broke loose once more; fists, bullets, knives, and a shield flying in every direction. Bucky and Steve kept close to you, shielding you from most of the shots as you advanced. You gunned down every bastard you saw but your eyes never strayed from Salvacion who was just standing there watching the clash.

Taunting you.

Something nagged at the back of your head as you fought. It was unusual for the syndicates to be deploying this many people to a single location even if it was for the serum. While you were thanking every god you knew for luckily drawing Salvacion on this mission, his presence was also peculiar. Something else was going on.

Something else was here.

The syndicates were pushing back on your team hard, but you were making a dent in their numbers. When you saw Salvacion start walking away, that was when you felt the panic stir in your mind.

"I can't let him get away, Steve!"

You ignored his and Bucky's calls for you as you made a mad dash straight through the fight, efficiently shooting and stabbing anyone who dared get in your path. You were consumed with the purpose of reaching him, of finally being able to end it all.

You left the larger fight behind you in favor of this more personal one, the noise receding as you chased him farther. You caught a glimpse of him making his way up stacked containers and you sped up your run. You didn't even think twice about climbing the height. Nevermind potential broken bones. Nevermind getting cornered. Nevermind that you had no backup.

Salvacion would die today.

When you reached the top, you were surprised to see him standing there waiting for you but also that he wasn't alone. You raised your gun to match the one he was aiming at you, but he merely tutted and smirked. His other hand also had a gun, this one aimed up the chin of the person he was holding captive in front of him.

Kim.

The amount of irritation this woman was bringing into your life was starting to get on your nerves. She was delegated on your team for this mission and you stifled the aggravated groan as you noticed that she was bleeding heavily from both shoulders causing her to not be able to fight back.

Top agent my ass.

"Hello, Nemesis," Salvacion grinned at you. "Or should I call you Y/N? Much more personal given our history, don't you think?"

Your name on his lips caused a wave of nausea and a sneer to grace your lips. You raised your gun higher, narrowing your eyes as his own pressed harder against Kim's skin. It wasn't an idle threat.

"Nice of you to show up for once. Was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

"Come now. Don't you enjoy our little game of cat and mouse?"

A game.

This was all a game to him and the malevolent smile on his face confirmed that. The fury in you burned, almost making you physically shake. Killing Lily was nothing to him while it had completely consumed your life. It had become your driving force while to him you were merely entertainment.

"You're going to let me go," he declared, fully confident.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," he dragged out. "Or else your teammate here will die."

"What makes you think I give a shit?" you scoffed. "Go ahead."

The way Kim's eyes widened in terror brought a sick sense of pleasure in you that you shouldn't be proud of. Salvacion let out a low laugh, amusement clear in his tone.

"Oh, dear child. No matter how much spite you wrap yourself with, you are the same naive hero wannabe you always were," he snickered. "Self-sacrificing. Even at the expense of your sister."

"You don't talk about Lily, you bastard!" you screamed, your grip shaking slightly on your weapon.

All of a sudden it was hard to breathe and your heartbeat was hammering in your ears. You didn't expect that finally facing him, hearing him talk about Lily like she was inconsequential, would shake you to your core. This was what you have been waiting for. This was what you have been building up to for the past decade. This was your purpose for living.

What were you waiting for?

"I am feeling generous today. Consider it my gift to commemorate our first official meeting," he said.

"What the fuck are you on?" you growled.

"Open the containers," he smiled. "See you soon, Y/N."

He abruptly tossed Kim to the side, pushing her off the ledge of the containers you were on and bolted away with a mad cackle. You shot at his retreating figure, desperately trying to aim through the turbulent emotions he inspired in you. You were going to chase after him when a yelp of pain caught your attention.

Kim was hanging by one hand off the edge, obviously struggling to hold herself up with her busted shoulders. You were too high up for her to survive the fall and she was too injured to help herself. Her grip was slipping.

"Y/N! Help me please!"

A dark shadow passed through your features. Saving her would mean Salvacion would definitely escape. Again. You didn't know if you would ever get another chance at him or when that would be.

You didn't like this woman. You never did. She tormented your youth, took joy in it even and as you reunited nothing changed. She was the same egotistic bully she always was. This was a dangerous mission. People die in the line of fire.

It happens. No one would blame you.

"Please!"

"Fuck!"

You dropped your weapon and clasped both hands on hers to pull her up. You strained with the effort, Kim being a deadweight adding to the struggle. You let go when half her body was safely on top, her legs swinging up to roll herself flat onto the surface. She was crying and whimpering from the fear and pain. You couldn't help the anger that bubbled to the surface.

You slapped her face.

"Get your goddamn shit together," you roared at her. "I don't have time for this. Call for evac, princess."

You ran toward the sound of helicopter blades, jumping onto crates and jolting your bones at the impact. You didn't care. The renewed rage had steadied you, calmed you almost to the point that the only thing you could see in your mind was taking him out. You had faltered and you would beat yourself up about that later, but you couldn't let him slip away again.

The helicopter was already starting to take off, Salvacion clearly visible through the open door. You cocked your gun and fired away. Empty. You slipped another gun out and fired. Empty. You kept running toward him, drawing and firing every last bullet you had as you screamed your frustration with every shot that missed.

You noticed that you managed to get a few through him by the way his body jerked. You were feeling optimistic until he reached around and pulled out a rocket launcher. You saw the sinister grin before he fired.

"Nem!" You heard your name being called, but you were too stunned by the horrible realization that you had failed today. You watched the helicopter slowly make it's way farther and farther behind the rocket that was hurtling toward you.

Even if you ran, the area of impact would still tear right through you. You were frozen in place, unable to process that this was how it would end. That it would end in you dying by his hand as well. That it would end without you making it up to Lily.

Your internal struggle was interrupted by a large body completely engulfing yours. The impact of the rocket threw you both to the ground and the loud explosion accompanied by ripping metal deafened your ears.

You struggled with your vision, the ringing in your head was painful and your body sore from crashing down. Oddly, your skull itself didn't feel injured. All of the pain seemed to be concentrated on your torso. You blinked a few times to focus the blur of your eyes as the repeated chanting of your name became louder.

"Are you okay, doll? Answer me, Nem! Come on."

"Bucky?"

Your sight finally focused to find that it was the brunette super soldier on top of you, covering you from what would have certainly been your death. The dread on his face gave way to a tired relief at you finally responding.

He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, taking deep steadying breaths. You noticed now that he was wincing and that his flesh arm was underneath you, supporting your back and cradling your head. His metal arm was detached, a mangled mess of forcibly severed wires and metal plates sticking out from his shoulder. Your eyes widened in realization.

"Bucky, your arm," you started to struggle underneath him, knowing he must be in a world of pain.

He shushed you by rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. Your eyes met icy blue ones and you saw him smile weakly, as if telling you it was worth it. He wouldn't hesitate to catch a missile with his arm again if it meant protecting you.

The rest of the boys reached you shortly after, Sam took Bucky and informed you that evac and medics were here. You were still in shock from what just happened. Billy took you gingerly in his arms, endlessly fussing at you and apologizing for not being able to do more even if you understood it was impossible for him to have tracked you through the chaos. Steve stood to the side, obviously furious at himself for not going to you even if you understood it was only right that he led the main fight.

Your body felt like it had gone through a war and you were too emotionally distressed to address anything else. You felt defeated. You felt at a loss. You failed Lily again today. Suddenly, you remembered what he told you.

His gift.

"Steve, Salvacion told me to open the shipments. He said it was a gift from him."

You didn't wait for them to respond, dragging your battered body limping across the yard to the crates. Billy recovered first, quickly jogging up to support your battered body straight with his. Steve followed closely behind, the uneasiness clouding the three of you. The locks were easily broken by Steve's shield and soon your gift was revealed.

What you saw drained the blood from all of you and caused your skin to immediately chill. It was the most sickening thing any of you have ever seen in your lives and that was saying something. How anyone could do this was beyond comprehension.

People. Dozens of people.

Crammed inside the steel box were dozens of people in various states of distress. All of them had barely any life left in them, barely sustained by the various IV bags hooked on their bodies. They hardly reacted when the doors were opened, too spent by what they had been made to go through to even blink. You suspected that a good portion of those who were not moving at all were dead. The smell was horrendous and this was coming from people who were about to be shipped to god knows where.

The horror you felt heightened to epic levels when you noticed that some of the drip bags held a different colored fluid, the distinct color of the super soldier serum. Then it clicked and the nausea finally overcame you. You poured your guts out onto the pavement, your stomach heaving violently as the truth made your vision spin.

Human testing.

Human experimentation.

And you had let the bastard escape.

Steve was going to approach you, clueless as he was on how to help you at that moment, but you had scrambled out of reach and ran out of the shipment yard. He called after you readying himself to go to you, but Billy's grip on his forearm stilled him.

"We're not who she needs right now, Cap," Billy shook his head. "Right now these people need us more."

"Where's she going?" Steve asked, swallowing hard on the lump in his throat and reluctantly agreeing.

"She'll be fine. Matt will find her."

Matt found you hours later. He had returned badly beaten and bruised from their own mission, but upon receiving word from Billy he pushed aside every painful injury he felt and rushed to where he knew he would find you. His chest tightened when he was told what you had seen. It was bad enough that you were carrying the guilt of your sister's death, but now you had the weight of all the lives that were victimized by these sick people too. It was too much for one person to bear.

He found you in the confession booth of the church on the corner of a quiet street and he couldn't see the broken look on your face when he opened the door, but he could feel it. He heard it in your unusually slow heartbeat, as if your organs were trying to give up. He heard it in the shallow breaths you took, as if the act of living was a betrayal in itself. He heard it in the cry that was begging to break through you throat. He could almost taste your despair.

He slowly knelt in front of you and pulled you urgently into his arms, squeezing himself into the tight space. He held you against him, clutching you tight and rocking you gently back and forth. This was an open secret shared between the two of you. When the darkness was overwhelming, you turned to each other and confessed. He pulled away after a long moment, cradling your face firmly in his palms. His thumbs brushed against your dry cheeks. Of course you hadn't been crying.

There were no more left to shed.

"Talk to me," he muttered, pressing his lips softly against yours.

"He experimented on a lot of people," you muttered. "And I let him go, Matty. I've been letting him carry on for ten years."

Your tone was almost a hoarse whisper, devoid of much emotion apart from a cold defeat. This worried him, but at least you were talking. You had known when you were being tortured that they Hydra hadn't perfected the serum. They kept torturing you in the hopes that they could get you to reveal anything about the formula, Steve and Bucky's abilities, or where samples of their blood were stored. You didn't talk.

Maybe you should have talked.

When the syndicates got their hands on the incomplete formula, they were faced with the same problem. A problem they apparently decided to solve by trial and error on actual people. You knew this. At the back of your mind you knew this, but it didn't register until you saw it for yourself tonight. Somehow you had ignored that fact because you had only been focused on your own grief.

"I let him go. I did this, Matty," you breathed, the guilt clear in your voice.

"No! You did not let him go. The bastard got away," he insisted. "And this is not your fault. I won’t let you think that this is your fault."

"No," you argued weakly. "I let him go. I had a shot at stopping him tonight and I didn't take it."

"Steve told me. You stopped to save Kim." The movement of his thumbs on your cheeks changed to soothing circles. "You stopped to save a teammate. That was a good thing."

You scoffed. "I wanted her to die."

"What?"

"For a solid moment as she was hanging on for her life, I wanted to let her die."

"She's alive now because of you, Nem. You fought it. You're strong. You didn't give into it."

"But what if that's what I need to do? If I did I could have ended Salvacion tonight."

You could have ended it all tonight.

Salvacion's words tonight plagued you. if you didn't try to play the hero then this whole twisted operation could have been stopped. If you didn't try to play the hero then you would have gotten your revenge for Lily. If you didn't play the hero then Lily wouldn't even be dead. You had wanted to save people so much, make a difference in the world, that you didn't stop and think about how that would impact the people you held most dear.

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?" Matt asked cautiously, he knew more than anyone the struggle you faced. All of you were just a bad day away from completely snapping.

"I don't know," you admitted in defeat. You sounded so tired and confused that it broke his heart.

He held you for a moment more, waiting for your heart and breathing to return to normal. He didn't know what else to do or what else to tell you. He didn't know how to help you this time. Just then, he sensed the arrival of a Maximoff twin.

"Pietro's outside. I'll ask him to take you away for a while," he shook his head when he felt you were about to protest. "You need a break and you need some peace."

He led you outside, his pace slower than normal as your shoulders slumped lower to the ground in resignation. He exchanged a few words with Pietro before he pressed a kiss to your temple and pushed you toward the other man.

"Come with me, little star. I'll take care of you."

The next thing you knew, Pietro had lifted you into his arms and asked you to close your eyes. You buried your face into his neck as you felt the world around you dissolve in a blur, your hair whipped around but you weren't scared. The steady grip he had on you assured you that you would be safe. When he told you to open your eyes, you had no idea where you were or how long you had been traveling.

"Where are we?"

He gently set you on your feet as you looked around the area. It was beautiful. A dense lush forest that opened up to a lake with a small cabin. Isolated. Quiet.

Peaceful.

Immediately you felt your body relax in the new environment. It was so far removed from anything and everything that it allowed you to let go of the tight hold you had on your life. It allowed you to let go of the rage for a moment.

"Sokovia," he answered. "This is mine. When Wanda and I were little, even before the enhancements, our connection was strong and can be overwhelming. I needed a place that was only my own."

"Wanda doesn't know about this?"

"No, it is the only secret I have ever kept from her. I've never brought anyone else here."

Turning to him, you could see the shy smile on his face. There was a reluctance there, as if he was nervous that his little hideaway would not be good enough for you. You were quick to shoot that thought down.

"It's beautiful, Pietro. Thank you for sharing this with me."

His smile brightened as he approached you and held both your hands in his. "We can stay for as long as you want to. I can go into town and get us more supplies. We can swim in the lake if you like and I can cook you paprikash. You'll love it."

He was so excited. So happy to be able to spend time with you. Elated to be able to share this sentimental place with someone else, but he saw the sadness in your eyes and it made him force himself to slow down. The smile on his face dimmed.

"Do you want to go somewhere else? I can take you anywhere you like."

The heartbreak and disappointment in his voice alerted you. You hurriedly wound your arms around his shoulders and forced his eyes to meet yours. You recognized the way he looked at you, but it was only now that you really noticed that he has always looked at you that way. He was so pure. So honest. So good.

He was too good for you.

"No, Pietro. This is perfect. You're perfect." You tried to smile up at him. "I don't deserve you."

Just like that he understood you. He drew you closer by the waist and pressed a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth. When he drew back, his smile lit up his face again.

"Why do you need to deserve me, little star?" he chuckled at the puzzled look on your face, finding it adorable. "Can I not just choose to love you?"

You frowned and he just laughed more. He shushed your protests by pulling you flush against his body, lowering his head to hover his lips mere inches from yours. He left this small distance as your choice to make just as he has made his.

"Let me choose to love you."

You could feel his breath on your face at this distance, see the sparkle of anticipation in his eyes, and his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You made your choice.

Kissing Pietro has to be the most comforting experience that you had ever felt. He tasted like hot chocolate on a rainy day and you felt your body melt when he returned the gesture. You were sighing against his lips when the now familiar feeling of him dashing turned it into a surprised squeal. You blinked and you were lying down on a soft mattress with Pietro grinning down at you.

You laughed as you shared more kisses, hands giddily exploring each other and tearing away pieces of clothing until nothing lay between you. For the first time in a long time, you felt insecure about your scars. For the first time, you were reluctant for someone to see them. Again, just like that he understood you.

"You're beautiful, little star. You have always been beautiful to me."

He kissed you again, deeply and full of emotion that you melted into the bed. His lips traveled down your neck, your chest, your stomach. He stopped to nip and suck at the inside of your thighs causing you to involuntarily moan his name. Lower he went until his mouth was working gentle swirls on your sensitive bud. Your hips grinded against his tongue, desperately seeking more.

He pressed his mouth fully on you then, adding a finger much to your delight. He ate you like he worshipped you. Like he was blessed with the opportunity to bring you pleasure. Your body sang his praises, reacting with equal enthusiasm by soon reaching your orgasm. You shook beneath him as he allowed you to ride out your high, soothing you with gentle hands rubbing circles on your hips. He was smirking at you when he crawled up, satisfied that he had made you cum but clearly aiming for more.

He kissed you again as he lined himself up against your core, sliding it against your slit to coat it with your slick. He wasn't even inside you yet and you already felt like you were ready to cum. He held your gaze, silently asking for permission that this was still what you wanted. Instead of answering, you moved your hips to slip his length inside causing him to drag out a hiss and capture your mouth again. The groan you both let out when he bottomed out vibrated through your fused lips.

"You feel incredible," he whispered. "You feel so good wrapped around me. Just like I always thought you would."

"Pietro, please."

His strokes were slow and deep, hitting that special spot inside you that had you panting with want. The smooth roll of his hips was quickly driving you higher and higher toward another orgasm. It was so gentle. So sensual. So personal.

"Tell me what you want, little star."

Everything about Pietro's life had been one big event after another. Rushed decisions. Angry fighting. Missions. Even his very enhancement relied on speed.

He didn't want that with you.

With you he wanted to slow everything down. He wanted to savor every moment. He wanted to stop time if he could, keep you in his arms for as long as possible. Freeze you in this exact moment when all you felt was pleasure.

"More," you pleaded.

Maybe he could speed up just a little bit.

His strokes gradually hastened and he glowed with satisfaction at seeing you delirious with desire because of him. He palmed at your breasts, nipped at your neck, and bucked his hips just a bit harder.

"More."

He smiled. How could he deny you? He lifted you up until you were seated on him, holding you firmly with an arm up your back with his hand fisting in your hair. The other hand he slipped between the two of you to rub against your clit. You saw the wicked glint in his eyes before he dipped his head to lave at your breasts.

You felt like you were going to explode from the different sensations. That was until he decided to move your body to bounce on his cock, his own hips thrusting up to meet you and his hand on your back guiding you to wind your hips as you came down. Your clit hit his pelvis each time and another wave was added onto your building climax. You whined, moaned, and pleaded his name. Begging him to grant you release.

“Let go for me. I have you. Let go.“

He growled against your breast and pounded up into you until you screamed and shook above him, clenching him so hard you pulled his own orgasm out of him. He spilled into you, crushing you against him as you continued to flutter around him.

You fought to catch your breath and when you caught each other's eyes, still hazy from lust, you laughed. You felt free. You felt renewed. You kissed him then.

"I love you too, Pietro."

He looked at you with unrestrained adoration. He had been chasing after you for so long that he could hardly believe that he had finally caught you. That he was finally yours.

"What? You didn't see that coming?" you teased.

He chuckled and pulled you in for another lingering kiss. You felt so good in his arms that he has completely forgotten how it felt to not have you in them.

"I meant what I said earlier," he murmured against the skin of your shoulder. "If you want to we can runaway. I can take you away from all of this. We can stay here or we can go anywhere else."

He smiled warmly at you and pecked your lips when he saw the internal conflict flash through your features. Again, without a word he understood you.

"But I know that is not what you want," he reassured you. "I just wanted you to know that you have that choice if you should want it."

Tempting as his offer was, you knew you couldn't let go of Lily's memory. You would never truly be at peace until Salvacion was rotting six feet under and his whole operation was blown to bits. You couldn't leave your mission unfinished. And you couldn't bear to leave four other men behind. Looking back at the events of the past night, it felt more accurate to say five. Still, there was a sense of security from knowing you had that option.

"Let's go home."

------------------------------------------------

A/N: Okay let’s take a vote. Should we forgive Bucky now?

------------------------------------------------

Series Tag List (Open - Can’t Tag Crossed Out):

@anythingwriter​ @lazyloki​ @marvelfansworld​ @blackbirddaredevil23​ @purechaosss​ @iloveangstposts​ @onesmokinbabe​ @jojodojo02​ @spookyparadisesheep​ @strawb3rrydr3ss​ @studentdoctorstark​ @siriushxney​ @hopplessdreamer​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @writingmi​ @thatguppienamedbae​ @hotleaf-juice​ @hxpelessxcean​ @waywardwifey​ @girigirll @lunamyangel​ @lookinsidemyhead​ @winter-peach-fuzz​ @lockbox22​ @simrantheconqueror​ @winchestergirl1335​ @alexiabey789​ @itsjaybro16​ @princess-of-the-snake-pit​ 

Permanent Tag List (Open):

@alwaysclassyeagle​ @closetbtstrash​ @fanofalltheficsx​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @alyispunk​ @fckdeusername​ @milkyway-writes​ @dumb-ass-writer​ @chrisjaay​ @kamalymaly​ @paryl​ @soccer-100000​ @cloverrover​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @pigwidgeonxo​

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

[inknopewetrust]

When She Loved Me // Loki x Fem!Reader

Summary: The TVA reveals more to Loki than he could fathom. His future was unimaginable.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: use of she/her, not y/n or you; sad, mentions of death, spoilers for Loki 01x01.

A/N: I don’t write for Marvel but I just watched Loki and had to write this (it’s just a little fic)! As always, your thoughts are more than encouraged and check out my Masterlist for all other works! *gif not mine.

Casey’s desk was full of them. Stones of different shapes and sizes, colors unique to a specific variant. In his world, or timeline, or life—Loki wasn’t sure at that point—the infinity stones were one of a kind. The invaluable treasures being sought the very moment he picked up the tesseract in the lobby of Stark Tower and here, on top of poorly written paperwork in a dingy, leaking office, sat a plethora of stones.

And they didn’t work.

Which meant the tesseract would not work.

And when Loki picked up the blue, glowing cube and mustered whatever might he could, nothing happened.

The Time Variance Authority was an eternal prison, though whether he wanted to admit it or not was an entirely different story. Loki had forgone the mission to return home the second the threatening lady with an evaporating stick burst through the office doors to return to the theater.

The room remained dim as it had been before. The cubed screen was blank, the single chair still waiting to be warmed as it sat enclosed behind blocks of concrete and lead paint. The machine on the table intrigued him more than he wanted to believe, except the outcome whatever his future would entail was far from promising.

His mother—the one who gave him unconditional love after all he had done—was killed by his own mistake. Dead, forever, because he couldn’t lead her down the right path. Loki had never felt emotion bubble so quickly. It’s lingering pain twisting his heart in one thousand directions of indescribable discomfort. Loki would live forever in this timeline knowing his mother died because of him.

As horrifying as that was, the sequences of his “greatest hits” that were to follow were far beyond his imagination.

As the curiosity in his brain overtook the sensible ignorance he normally would have used, Loki sat down in the red chair and turned to the machine. Mobius had turned the nobs in a clockwise movement, fast-forwarding through his life to show him his failures. Surely the milestones in his life were more than just the deterioration of his goals? Right?

Wrong.

The sequence had stopped at the body of his mother. Bloodied from the blade of a foe, fallen into the eternal slumber of death. Embedded into his tearful eyes, Loki moved forward. His father was next, which he half expected but hadn’t understood why. These clips were fragments of a reality he couldn’t recall, and their stories were only ending before him. Sat on the edge of a cliff with Thor, Odin went peacefully into the world beyond—at peace with both his sons and their mistakes.

The clips moved quickly to the land he had called home. Asgard was near up in flames, a woman who he had no familiarity to stood before him, his brother, and another in a Valkyrie uniform. The questions swirling in his head were unavoidable, but they disappeared at the sight of his future.

The woman in black, with horns extending beyond her body held a woman close to her chest. A threatening position, one arm around her neck, another resting in a fist against her stomach. No matter the future of variant he would experience in the TVA, he would always remember the woman who took his breath away.

She was kind, good—far too generous for a man like himself. She laughed with a joy so full of life it made him feel alive, refreshed from a life of war and indignities. Her eyes sparkled against the night, her touch was soft and innocent even when the activities were far from it.

She was the one woman outside of his mother who loved him. When she loved Loki, he felt bigger than the small world he was trapped in. When she loved Loki, he wasn’t trying to impress and conquer worlds, he was just living.

And he watched with furrowed brows as the woman in black held her against her will, no struggle or hesitance from her in return. Her gaze was trained on Loki, a fond sadness and tears reflective in his own at that moment mirrored against hers. She was saying goodbye in her own way and now, in the fifth-floor theater of the TVA, Loki would watch a death occur outside his memory that pained him more than life itself.

The woman in black created a blade out of thin air, much like he was able to do, and let it manifest itself right through her stomach. The air was sucked out of her, the life quickly draining from her face as she was pushed to the ground and the blade pulled out. The woman in black knew that without the blade, death was certain. No one could magically heal another on that bridge, Loki would suffer and watch the woman he loved die without his arms around her, telling her everything would be alright even if it wasn’t.

And then the sequence was over.

Loki’s breathing had all but stopped in that moment. The frozen image of the woman he loved lifeless before him trapped like a prison in his mind. The sadness flowed freely as he sat alone in the room, so overcome with emotion that he allowed himself to be weak, vulnerable, and weep with a fury he surely believed you hated.

First his mother, then his father, then you.

The three people who matter more than his own life, dead, because of his ignorance and mistakes. Loki’s thirst for power so great that death was inevitable, almost guaranteed on the forms of tasks he signed the moment he gave his signature smirk of approval. His future was filled with events he would never forgive himself for. He would never allow anyone to that letting his mother go down the wrong staircase was just an accident, or that sending his father off to a distant planet was careful because of cognitive decline, or that allowing her to fight beside him was just the right thing to do between two people who wanted their relationship to be filled with equality.

Loki would always blame himself for her death.

The machine flickered and began moving forward once more without his instruction. Loki moved to turn it off when he heard his own voice, low and gravely, but laced with a fear he himself was familiar with. The film showed exactly that. A fearful Loki pledging his “undying fidelity” to Thanos. He had not yet met the man of the hour, but there was no mistaking who that was. And like a fool, Loki drew a blade to his neck.

He was watching himself die at the hands of Thanos. The one who had sent him to destroy New York only hours before he began watching the tapes before him. Loki was horrified at the scene. His life draining as quickly as it did for her, leaving him lifeless on the cold floor of a ship while the sounds of Thor crying filled the room.

The film ended there.

His life in pictures, short and filled with sorrow and mistake after mistake, death after death.

The worst part wasn’t accepting that all of it happened. He knew he had to because it was reality. The worst part was that he could no longer change the reality of the future. The past was the past, but the future was unknown and now he knew that he couldn’t save his mother.

He couldn’t save his father.

And worst of all, he couldn’t save her.

[heartofspells]

Literally the only reason I can think of for everyone to never question Sirius’s betrayal, or even give him a trial WTF, is that James and his friends are the only ones who actually trusted him, and most of that probably had to do with Sirius’s last name. Maybe he was doing morally questionable things during the First War, but like, odds are the only morally good people at the time were the children. We also know Sirius’s brother was a Death Eater, one of his cousins was a Death Eater, another cousin was a supporter whose husband was a Death Eater, one of his cousins-in-law and his brother were Death Eaters, and his parents were sort of supporters (they disliked what Voldemort was doing to get power, but they agreed with his beliefs); it’s fairly good odds that Sirius’s family is why everyone believed he was a Death Eater

Completely agree with all this. There was such a negative stigma surrounding the Black name and all they'd done and stood for that there's no way it didn't follow Sirius through his life, no matter what he did. He had to be almost side-by-side with Remus in that. It's sort of hinted at (i think; i don't think this a fanon thing) that there was distrust for Remus, and you can only gather from that it stemmed from his lycanthropy. It's nudged into our brains that this is the reason, when Sirius wouldn't take part in the Fidelius, that he urged them towards Peter, not just because he was 'unassuming'.

But can we talk about more of this for a minute? Yes? Okay.

The morality at play in all this is something that gets to me. It's rarely seen in fanfiction, at least that I've stumbled across in all my years. Every now and then you'll cross paths with a fic that touches on it in a true light, but it's mostly avoided. I understand that these are children's books. There's an almost black and white picture painted there, no matter some of the phrases used by characters, specifically Sirius himself about good and evil.

Voldemort and his followers were the 'dark', they were the 'bad ones', so they did bad things. They murdered and tortured, and that's shown somewhat regularly, especially in the later books. While on the flip side you've got Dumbledore and the Order, the side of the 'light', the 'good ones' who don't do things the wrong way. They don't sink to the levels of Voldemort's side, using Unforgiveables, murdering, etc.

And that's just...stupid. It was a war. Of course they did these things. To approach any of this as though none of the Order ever resorted to such tactics makes no sense. That's not how war works, no matter how 'good' you paint a side to be. Terrible things are going to happen and be done. So to say that Sirius, as part of the Order, coming from the Black family, didn't do these very things, wasn't used by Dumbledore in horrible ways because of who he was is a bit naïve (and i'm not calling anyone out here; it's just an opinion of mine; again, these were children's books. it only makes sense to keep avoiding that in fanfiction if that's what you choose to do). But I think Sirius, along with several others within the Order, did increasingly reprehensible things, because how couldn't they to achieve their end goals?

And maybe, just possibly, Sirius saying the things he did to Harry about good and bad people, was his way of admitting to that, of pushing his and the other's actions to the light in a roundabout way that could still remain child-friendly.

[nsheetee]

take it off

Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader Genre: Smut, Fluff, slight College AU Length: 3.5k Warnings/Details: mature content (unprotected sex, oral [male receiving], slight exhibitionism), mentions of fwb, mentions of Johnny Summary:  In which you and Mark are friends with benefits, and Mark tries to tell you he wants to be more. a/n: minors, please beware; there is mature content in this writing

♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♡

Mark’s fingers can’t stop moving. From the volume knob on the radio, to the random receipts that are squished into his cup holders, to tapping a random rhythm on his steering wheel. It’s his nerves. Mark’s stomach is churning and there’s so much uneasiness in him that he can only let out through his fingers.

Tonight, Mark’s going to confess his feelings for you.

He’s not sure if this is the right time, or if you feel the same, or even exactly what he plans to say, but he’s going to tell you something tonight. You and Mark have been fooling around behind your friends’ back for a semester and half now. Your parking passes had you parking next to each other last semester, and constantly seeing each other before and after classes made Mark interested enough to ask you out on a coffee date.

The coffee date ended with a short make out session in his car, but neither of you were going to complain about that. So, that one date birthed the beginning of your friends with benefits relationship with Mark. He cringes every time he calls the thing between you two “friends with benefits.” Mark would like to say you’re two separate people who call each other up when you need to let go of your frustrations and stress. In reality, you two really are friends; the “separate” part is where things get fuzzy.

You’ve never met Mark’s friends and he has never met yours, but you’ve cried on his shoulder about school, a red eyed and snot filled nose sight only seen by him. Mark knows where the birthmarks are on your body and could probably guess how many moles you have on your thighs, but he doesn’t know what you want to do after college— what your dreams, goals, and aspirations are.

Mark wants to know. He wants to hold you after fucking you and he wants to hear about how your day was. As corny and cliche as that sounds, Mark yearns for it, but only with you. And that’s how he knows his heart has crash landed on you, and he can’t go another day without telling you his real feelings.

When you slide into the passenger seat of Mark’s car, he turns in the driver’s seat to face you. You don’t have make up on and your hair’s down, but you still have on your jewelry from today. You smile at Mark, looking a bit tired but he’ll never tell you that to your face.

“Hey, what did you want to talk about” Your voice is low and light, bouncing off of the center console and clutching onto Mark’s heart. It’s only now that Mark realizes what you’re wearing. A big, white t-shirt, much bigger than you and much bigger than Mark. It covers your shorts and thighs, and the short sleeves are long enough on you to almost reach your elbows. Mark recognizes the brand that’s painted on the chest; it’s a men’s brand.

“What are you wearing?”

“Is that why you called me down here, from my warm bed, to ask me what I’m wearing?” You laugh, genuinely amused. “If you asked me that on the phone, I could’ve told you.” Your voice turns slightly teasing and suggestive, but Mark doesn’t waver on his question.

“Seriously, w-what are you wearing.” Mark blinks at you, his eyes trained on the logo. “Where did you get it?” From what Mark knows, you haven’t seen anyone since you’ve started sleeping with him. It was the one thing you both agreed on: If you wanted to sleep with other people, you would break up your agreement to avoid confusion and fuss from anyone in the situation. Mark may be jumping to conclusions here, but he can’t help it. He needs to know if there’s someone else before he says what he plans to tell you.

“The shirt? It’s Johnny’s.”

“Who’s that.” It doesn’t sound like a question. Your sleepy eyes widen as you watch Mark. He looked so soft when you first sat in his car; curly black hair peeking out of his hoodie and basketball shorts riding up his thighs. Now, not much has changed, other than Mark’s white knuckle tight grip on the steering wheel and his usual starry eyes piercing into you.

“He’s a few years older than us, in my major.” Something between your thighs stirs as Mark’s jaw clenches for a second, “I got this shirt from him when mine got dirty during our pottery class.”

The explanation is valid. This Johnny person just seems like an older guy who’s trying to help someone younger in his same major. Mark would’ve liked it if someone did the same to him. However, your answer does not satiate Mark’s curiosity.

“So, like, why are you wearing it now?”

“It’s comfy, and Johnny told me to keep it, so why wouldn’t I—”

“Take it off.” Mark’s words stun you, but his tone doesn’t. You’ve heard that tone before, on the nights Mark has a bit too much stress from exams or a bit too much adrenaline after winning a basketball game. Your thighs clench together at his gravelly voice and your jaw drops slightly.

“What?” Mark’s stomach tightens at that tone you’re using with him, like you’re innocent when in reality you’re filthy.

“I said, take it off.” Mark is blinded by a green hue on his mind. He has lots he wants to say to you, but his dick wins over his mind for the time being.

Not really wanting to find out what happens if you don’t do as Mark says, you drop your phone and dorm keys into the cup holder and grip the edges of the shirt. The fabric teases your thighs, running up your stomach, and then your chest until you’re sitting bare in Mark’s passenger seat. Your nipples harden, partially from the arousal beginning to course through you and partially from the sudden change in temperature.

Mark grabs the fabric from your fingers and rolls down his window a few inches, tossing it outside and leaving the window open.

“Why did you do that?” You pout, already sensing the answer from the envious look in his eyes.

“You won’t be needing that right now.” Mark takes your hand in his, softly bringing you to his side of the car, his actions different from the voice he’s currently using with you. The move is slightly awkward but you manage to straddle Mark’s lap, not for long though. In one swift move, Mark pushes back his seat and leans back slightly, resting one arm behind his head and the other pushing you down onto your knees between his seat at the steering wheel.

“Here? In your car?” You whisper, your breath tickling the skin of Mark’s tummy that became exposed when he leaned back. You’re in the parking lot of your dorm at night, but that doesn’t mean that no one could walk by your car. You notice how the window is still rolled down a few inches. Mark was always a bit iffy about doing anything super sexual out in public, so this new side of him made butterflies rumble in your stomach, your mouth already slightly watering at how you can make him moan loud enough so that if someone does walk by, they’ll hear how good you make him feel.

“Yeah, here.” Mark answers, using his free hand to move your hair away from your face. He quickly leans down to press his lips to yours, the first kiss of the night. It’s shallow but full of heat already, making you almost lose your balance on your knees and float towards Mark when he pulls away, your eyes slow to open.

Your hands pull down the waistband of Mark’s shorts and underwear at the same time, one hand reaching to pull out his cock. He’s starting to get hard, but you help him along with a firm grip on his member while your thumb runs along that one protruding vein and your tongue kitten licks his tip. Mark’s eyes close and he hums, his grip on your hair tightening.

You lean back to spit on your hand a bit, running it up and down his length as you start to suckle on his tip. Your rings are cold around his soft skin, and the constant moving of them on his dick has Mark’s breathing deepening.

Eventually, you take Mark in your mouth, using your hand on what you can’t take yet. Mark doesn’t seem impatient, but he still uses his grip on your hair to pull you down all of the way until your nose is hitting his short happy trail and his tip is grazing the back of your throat. Somewhere in all the mess, his hoodie and t-shirt was thrown into the passenger's seat leaving Mark in his silver chain, and you only realize it when you look up at him.

You breathe through your nose to keep your pace going, but soon regain some control and slow down.

“H-Holy fuck.” Mark stutters at the new feeling. “You’re doing good, babe, just like that.” He praises you, stomach muscles tightening and arm muscles flexing. You hum around his cock, watching his eyes screw shut for a moment at the feeling.

You love watching his fucked out expression from down here, but your focus goes back to what’s in your mouth. Your tongue presses against Mark’s dick, experimentally swirling it around when you come up. Mark chokes out a groan, his hips jerking at the sensation and you’re pleased with his reaction, repeating what you just did.

“Wait, w-wait.” Mark pulls you away, “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

“Let me make you feel good. Let me make you come.” Your voice sounds raw from the amount of times Mark’s dick hit the back of your throat, but you don’t mind the sensation.

“You have made me feel good, so much.” It seems he has other plans as he brings your lips together in another kiss, this one longer and more heated than the first.

A few months ago, Mark would’ve thought it was gross to kiss someone like this, with Mark’s own precum on their lips and saliva dripping down their chin. But now, it makes Mark pull you closer to his chest, making you rise up from your spot on the floor and straddle him once again.

His lips push yours open until you let him stick his tongue in your mouth. He won’t stop, something in his movements keeps him moving as if he’s trying to prove something or get a point across. The thought leaves your head as soon as it comes, too focused on how Mark can make you clench around nothing just buy how his tongue sucks on yours.

That’s when you feel his nimble fingers, skin rough from gliding against a basketball five days a week and full of calluses from years of playing guitar. His middle finger glides over your clothed core, soaked through your shorts, and he can’t help but smile. You pull away to look at him and see the constellations in his eyes, some strands of his wavy hair soaked and sticking to his forehead while his mouth is wet from kissing you.

“What is it?”

“Hmm, nothing. You’re just so lovely,” He kisses your jaw, “And sweet,” He presses a hot open mouth kiss against your neck, his tongue darting out for just a moment to slide over the area, “And so, so fucking hot.” He presses another kiss to the valley between your breasts. The pressure of his fingers over your shorts is driving you mad; you just want to feel his skin on yours. So you pull down your shorts and panties all in one move, Mark helping you get them off of your legs and throwing them on top of his discarded hoodie.

His fingers lay flat against your bare pussy, and you shiver at the feeling of your wetness coating his fingers. Mark continues his slow kisses along your chest, his middle finger now pushing into your hole. The feeling is almost overwhelming; you didn’t realize how wet and hot you got while sucking Mark’s dick, but now that he has a finger in you, you can’t help but clamp down around it as he moves in and out.

You both hiss at the feeling, your hands finding Mark’s shoulders to balance yourself, and he adds another finger after a few seconds. Mark moves his fingers in and out of you and scissors them, making your thighs shake and causing you to roll your head back. Mark removes his fingers, making you squirm with want and grind up into nothing.

“Be patient, doll. I’ll fuck you good, I promise.” He puts his fingers in his mouth, the two that were just in you, and sucks your juices off. You lick your lips at the sight, your fingers sliding down his bare chest to hook onto his chain and bring him closer to you for another kiss, but Mark has other plans.

“Turn around.” You’re confused, but do as he tells you. During the few times you’ve ridden him, Mark has always preferred you to face him. But Mark is surprising you in many ways tonight, so you let him do as he wishes. The new view makes you realize where you are again, the parking lot. No one is walking around now, but you wonder if someone has walked by your car and heard Mark’s moans or seen your bare back. The thought makes you bite your lip and your pussy throbs, a shaky sigh leaving your chest.

One of your hands grips onto the driver’s seat between Mark’s legs and the other grips the dashboard as you hear Mark pumping his length. You jump a bit when you feel his tip touch your folds, an involuntary whine slipping past your lips. You may not be able to see anything Mark is doing, but the surprise of it all makes you twice as sensitive.

Mark’s tip rubs up and down your folds again, making you wiggle your hips, signalling you want Mark to get his dick in you already. You hear him hum from behind you, and grabs your hip with one hand to lower you down and the other guides himself into you. When he bottoms out, you moan lowly, and then both sit in silence for a second.

Mark leans forward to kiss the delicate skin of your back, his hands massaging your sides while they move up and down your waist and hips. He’s not greedy with sharing his kisses, planting them wherever his lips can reach. His touch and kiss and the wholesome feeling of him being in you makes you move, sliding up and then back down enough to have both of you groaning at the friction.

You try to set a pace, but Mark’s grip on your hip slows you down once again. “Slow, babe, slow. I wanna take you slow.” You oblige, rolling your hips slower than before and arching your back so that Mark can hit the sweet spot inside of you. The new angle makes it easier, and you feel like he’s filling you up more and more with each slow stroke, almost lazy in how languid and sensual each movement on his dick is.

Mark’s right hand reaches for your clit, alternating between tapping on the bundle of nerves and circling his calloused finger. His other hand wraps around and plays with your nipple, squeezing it every so often.

All the stimulation quickly becomes too much for you; you’re not sure where to look, what to do with your hands, at this point you aren’t even aware at what sounds are coming out of your mouth. You find your hands now gripping the steering wheel, your forehead leaning against them and your jaw slacked open as Mark does not slow down with his fingers and you do not dare rush your hips, your thighs burning and your muscles clenching.

“Mark, you feel— Oh, fuck.” You can’t even form a proper sentence, but you don’t care when Mark’s hips start to move up and meet yours with every thrust. His hand leaves your chest to steady you by gripping your waist, but his other hand only speeds up on your clit.

When you accidentally press the horn, you don’t think it’s you who did it. Your eyes open and your head pops up to look out of the windshield, but the condensation on the windows obstructs your view. You only realize that you’re the one who honked when you see the placement of your hands.

“Shit—” You almost laugh at how you got carried away, but you’re glad you saved your breath. Mark’s hips speed up insanely fast, and suddenly he’s thrusting into you with precision. His cock moves in and out of you so fast that you can hear wet noises coming from your pussy and the clapping of skin coming together.

“Oh, God, Mark please don’t stop.” Your words come out choppy as your whole body moves with Mark’s motions. Your tits bounce up and down, your hips move to Mark’s rhythm without you even trying, and his car is shaking from side to side.

“I won’t stop if you tell me who’s making you feel this good.” Mark presses one finger hard onto your clit, making you gasp through your next words.

“You— You, it’s you, Mark.” You feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach, your walls clenching at the delicious feeling of your high coming to its furthest point. “I’m gonna come. For you, Mark.”

“Come on me, babe.” With those words, the knot in your stomach breaks, making each and everyone of your nerves sizzle with heat and pleasure. You feel Mark come undone below you, his hips stuttering until you feel him fill you up and push some of his cum into you as his hips gradually slow down.

You both take a second to catch your breaths, your grip still tight on the steering wheel in front of you, now mindful of the horn, and Mark’s grip is still tight on your hips and waist. You feel his hot breath hit your back and he gently pulls out of you, moving you to sit on his lap as you both lean back in the driver’s seat.

“What’s wrong?” You ask. Maybe you should’ve noticed something off about Mark sooner, and maybe you should’ve brought the question up before fucking each other, but now that whatever emotions were brewing in both of you have been physically released, hopefully Mark can speak more comfortably.

“There was something I needed to tell you…” You turn your head to the right to see Mark's expression. He’s glancing down at his thumb that rubs circles around your hip bone.

“Not who’s shirt I’m wearing?” You’re not teasing him, but Mark giggles at his earlier jealousy. For a split second, it’s hard to believe this is the same guy you were riding just a few minutes ago.

“No. I’m sorry I got so… forceful and possessive. I have no right to do that.” Mark talks with his heart, and he realizes now is a perfect segway into bringing up his feelings. “But I want to.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, but you already know what Mark is about to say, and your stomach churns as you brace yourself.

“I want to do this, what we’ve been doing so far,” He laughs awkwardly, “And more. I want to meet the people in your life and— maybe, I don’t know, go on dates or somethin’.” Mark still hasn’t met your gaze, and the lack of eye contact makes him keep rambling. “Maybe we could study together and meet up before class and— I just want to be more than what we are now. I want to mean more to you than just a fuck buddy.”

“You’re not just a fuck buddy to me, Mark.” You reassure him, cutting him off by turning his chin with your fingertips and making him look at you. “I do have to admit… I don’t have those types of feelings for you.” Your confession makes Mark’s stomach drop and he looks away, suddenly feeling very shy and almost ashamed. His heart plummets and he thinks he might’ve just screwed up; he’s already cursing himself out in his head.

“Mark.” You make his attention turn back to you when you realize he’s already overthinking your words, “You are someone important to me. I trust you in a way that I don’t even trust some of my closest friends. I think… maybe we can see where this goes? Just… take it slow?”

“Really?” Mark’s voice is shaky, as if he was holding his breath this whole time and he finally let it out. Mark didn’t know what he was expecting when he decided to tell you his feelings. He was not expecting you to jump into his arms and live happily ever after, but this is probably the best way tonight could’ve gone.

“Yeah, really.” You sooth, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Okay— Yeah, let’s do that. I promise, I’ll make it worth it.”

“You don’t have to promise me that. I already know you’ll be.”

[mirasolis]

My Star, Your Light

Punz x Reader

Tangled AU

Part One

★──────────★─────────★

This is just you and Punz thrown into the world of Tangled, as requested by @thequeenofuwu . We are both Punz simps, I know it.

This is going to be in several parts, and I will link each part when I finish them under here.

Part 1 Part 2

Enjoy!

★──────────★─────────★

This, is the story of how I was killed. But don’t worry, it’s a happy story, and truth be told, it’s not even mine. This is the story of a girl I met, named (Y/N). It all starts with the stars.

Years ago, a piece of the stars fell from the skies, and from it sprouted a magical, silver flower. Now this flower had the ability to give you your greatest heart’s desire, if you knew what to to say; or rather, if you knew what to sing. People had searched for the flower for centuries with goals of becoming rich or powerful.

But then one day, a man named Dream had stumbled upon it and decided to keep it hidden from the world so he could one day use it. He made it keep him alive, while he grew with power and became immortal, but he had no purpose for it yet.

Even more centuries passed, and a kingdom grew. It was bright and prosperous and happy. All except for the beloved King Phil and Queen Samantha, who had longed for a child of their own to have. Now, around this time, people get pretty desperate, and royal scholars had found research about the star flower, and decided that the whole kingdom was to search for this magic flower. The kingdom loved their rulers and respected them that they searched for days on end.

Now, back with the immortal Dream. He still had no proper way to use the power of the star flower, and continuously hid it. But by chance, he left it exposed to the naked eye when he heard that people were searching for it. When the people found the flower, they rejoiced, for their king and queen would smile once more. The monarchs conceived their first child, a beautiful baby girl. I’ll give you one guess. Yep, that’s (Y/N). To celebrate her birth, the kingdom released silver lanterns in the sky to represent the stars from which the flower had come from, all while shooting stars passed by. Later that year, the king and queen gave (Y/N) her younger brothers, Wilbur and Techno.

For a while, the kingdom was happy. But all that ended when (Y/N) was almost two years old.

Dream had plotted with his crew, men who went by the names George, Sapnap, Badboyhalo, and Callahan. They stormed the castle, sneaked in, and stole away the princess. The kingdom’s soldiers and people searched across the lands, but she was nowhere to be found. Deep within the woods, a magical barrier disguised the home of Dream and his crew from sight. Within that, there was a tower from which you could only enter through the window and a rope. There, the princess was hidden away, with her rapidly growing (H/C) hair coloured with silver streaks. There, (Y/N) was raised, never seeing the outside world again.

Dream, posing as her brother, was one day tending to (Y/N)’s hair when she asked a question. He hummed in response. “Why can’t I go outside?”

“Well (Y/N), the world outside is a dangerous place. I don’t want you to get hurt or used for horrible means. Keeping you here means you can be safe,” Dream responded.

(Y/N) nodded silently, humming a gentle tune.

But the king and queen never stopped hoping that their child would come back. And the barriers cutting (Y/N) from the rest of the world could not hide it all. Every year, they continued the tradition of releasing the star lanterns every year. They hoped that this could serve as a signal so that one day, their princess would return.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

17 years later…

A young girl snuck around, looking for her companion, a small multicoloured sheep named Puffy. Dream had given her the sheep not too long ago and they already bonded nicely. They were currently playing some hide and seek.

“Oh Puffy!! Where are you?” (Y/N) called out in a singsong tune. The sheep was currently hiding along the flower bed that was on the window sill of the tower entrance. (Y/N) looked around with wide eyes. “Well, I guess she’s back inside…

“…NOT!”

(Y/N) manoeuvered her hair to wrap around Puffy and pulled her from her hiding place, dangling her in the air. She laughed as she grabbed Puffy and held her in her arms, snuggling into her wool.

“Oh Puffy, I know you want to go outside, but I can’t bring you there. We just have to wait ‘til Dream gets back so you can get some grass. Besides, we’ve got plenty to do in here!”

(Y/N) danced around, her growing as long as the tower was tall, and tall it was. She bounced from activity to activity, bringing Puffy along for the ride. She finally slowed down when she gathered her paints and illustrated a beautiful depiction of her gazing at the stars.

“I wonder what they’re like…maybe Dream will let me see them this year…”

Meanwhile…

Three men were jumping along the tops of the castle, looking for the right building to infiltrate. One wore a mask coloured with red, yellow, and black, and was called Ponk. The next one wore a significant amount of purple clothing, such as his purple coat and shoes, and was appropriately called Purpled. The last man wore a white plain shirt with leather cuffs covering his forearms and keeping the sleeves in place, and over that he wore a very light grey vest on top. He had blonde hair and he went by the name Punz.

The three of them were a team of mercenaries and they were on their latest job, stealing the tiara of the first princess. While Purpled and Ponk were making sure they had found the Crown Room, Punz was holding onto a castle tower and looking at the view.

“Guys you gotta look at this view!” He exclaimed.

“Dude, we don’t care about the view, just get over here and grab the crown!” Purpled urged.

Ponk scoffed. “Dude, you can find another view like this when we get the money!”

Punz brushed them off and dropped down with the two men lowering him down an escape rope. He stepped down quietly, gazing at the beautiful crown adorned with jewels in front of him. Just as he had his hands on it, a guard sneezed. As common courtesy goes, Punz just naturally said bless you, grabbed the rope, then signalled Ponk and Purpled to pull him up. About halfway to the ceiling the guards turned around and looked up to face Punz who was waving the crown around triumphantly, smirking.

In a hurry, the guards organized themselves and searched for the mercenaries while they were long gone, running into the forest, away from the main city.

With (Y/N)…

(Y/N) could hear the calls of her brother asking her to let down her hair, as the tale goes. She bounded for the window, excitedly letting her hair down while looking at Puffy.

“Puffy! This is it! I’m going to ask Dream today!” She declared as she pulled Dream up to the tower room. As he entered, he pulled off his cloak and took off his mask, revealing some wounds on him. Dream set down his items, leaving a nice patch of grass for Puffy by the window.

Dream sat down in a chair, while (Y/N) rushed around to make everything comfortable for him. She hummed a song, healed Dream quick and got straight to the point.

“So, Dream, I was wondering…I turn 18 tomorrow, I become an adult and I was wondering…if I could see the special stars!!”

Dream looked in her direction in alarm. He was thinking to himself. His plan would soon come into fruition, but if she left now, it would all go south.

“Oh, (Y/N), I think you mean the regular stars,” Dream tried to sway her mind.

“But Dream, these stars are special! The patterns of these stars are not constant. These move in every which way every year, and they only appear on my birthday Dream! I want, no, need to see them up close, and understand what they are!”

“Oh please! (Y/N), you’re too fragile for the outside world! I keep you here because its to keep you safe! It’s a scary world out there! I do this to protect you, you’d be taken advantage of! And imagine what would happen if they found out what your hair could do! (Y/N), please promise me to never ask about leaving this tower again? You must understand!”

(Y/N) contemplated her choices in her mind before she agreed. “Okay…”

Dream picked up his cloak and headed for the window to leave. “I’ll be in the village talking with George and Sapnap. I’ll see you in a bit.”

As (Y/N) let her brother down to do business, she looked at the world below longingly.

In another part of the forest…

Punz, Purpled, and Ponk were running through the forest still, hopping over logs and lakes. Punz stopped to catch a breath when he looked at a wanted poster of him and began to panic.

“No no no no no. I can’t believe this! They drew my face wrong!” He showed the poster to his partners, and they saw that Punz’ nose was severely misshapen and his hair was too long.

“Dude, who cares?!” Purpled questioned.

Ponk urged the two of them along until they came upon a short cliff they had to climb. Punz turned around to face them and told them, “Okay, you guys launch me up there, and I can pull you up.”

Purpled and Ponk shook their heads. “Give the crown first,” Ponk demanded while gesturing to the bag that held the crown.

“Ouch, that kinda hurts. You guys don’t trust me? After all our escapades as fellow mercs?” Punz asked.

“The satchel. Now,” Purpled ordered.

Punz sighed, resigning the bag to them. He climbed the rock with their help, reaching the top.

“Now pull us up Punz,” Purpled requested.

Punz laughed. “Sorry, can’t carry any more!” He flashed the satchel before slinging it around his body and running off while hearing his partners’ screams.

Punz kept running, and the castle guard was on his tail. Even worse, they were accompanied by one of the Crown Princes, Technoblade. Punz grimaced and recalled Techno’s history as a renowned fighter, leading the kingdom’s army and winning every battle. He urged his legs to work harder, to run faster.

Punz hopped through a fallen tree’s branches, cutting off most of the palace guard. Technoblade made it through and continued giving chase to the white-clad mercenary.

“We have him now, Carl!” Techno declared to his faithful horse.

Punz kept running, grabbing a forlorn vine and swinging around a tree to knock Technoblade off his horse and taking his place. Punz grabbed the reigns and tries to ride Carl away from the guard, but the horse tries bucking him off. They go back and forth, between trying to ride forward and grabbing the crown, not noticing that they were heading for a cliff.

The satchel flew away from the fighting pair’s grasp and landed on a single branch on a tree dangling sideways on the cliff’s edge. They wasted no time in reaching for the bag, not knowing the tree was breaking until it was too late. They fell off the edge, the crown ending up in Punz’ hands.

After that nasty fall, Punz woke up and sighs in relief when he sees the crown is still in his possession. He hears the distant neighs of a familiar horse, and looks for a place to hide. He tries feeling for a hole big enough for him to fit it, when his hand passes through a tree, a green glow around the part where his hand entered. Taking a risk, he threw himself into the trees and ended up in a dark cave just as Carl passed by.

Punz let out a tense breath and walked along the cave’s path until he came into a clearing. A tall, majestic tower loomed over him, casting a shadow over the land. Behind it, he could see a few houses. But the tower piqued his interest more. Maybe there were more valuables inside. He smiled and got to work climbing the tower using the sturdy vines that lined its walls.

After a tedious while of climbing (thankfully, no one had spotted him), he burst through the window doors and entered the tower’s main room. He sighed, opened the satchel, and took a breath, looking at the crown. “Alone at last.”

Then he was knocked out. Simple as that.

(Y/N) held the cast iron frying pan in her hands, retracting it from its position from when it knocked out the intruding Punz. She shrieks and dashes away from Punz’ unconscious body, slowly creeping up on it to make sure it was safe. She checked to make sure he wasn’t dangerous, flipping away a piece of hair that covered his eyes. (Y/N) leaned in closer when he suddenly opened an eye. In a panic, (Y/N) smacked him in the head again, not considering the possibility of a concussion.

(Y/N) looked for a place to hide the man while saying to herself and to Puffy, “I knocked him out! All on my own! Holy! If this isn’t enough to convince Dream that I can be let out of here for one day, then I don’t know what will!!”

She ended up stuffing him in an empty closet, being successful after a few tries. She looked at the satchel the mysterious man dropped, paying attention to the small shine emanating from it. Curious, she opened the pouch, revealing a piece of metal embedded with several precious jewels. She looked at Puffy, trying it on like a bracelet. Puffy’s wool shook with her head in denial. She peeked through one of the jewels, but that didn’t seem to be the purpose. Finally, (Y/N) tried putting the piece on her head. It looked like it fit perfectly. Then Puffy shook her head again. Then a noise sounded from below.

The girl heard her brother’s calls and she grew excited. As per usual, she let down her hair, and pulled Dream up. (Y/N) was very eager to tell Dream about her surprise.

“Dream! Oh you won’t believe what I have to show you!! It’s a big surprise!” (Y/N) bragged.

“Oh? Well I bet mine is bigger than yours!” Dream chimed.

“Doubt it!”

“Well, I am going to be making you your favourite dinner tonight!”

“Well, Dream? There’s something I want to tell you…” (Y/N) began to segway the conversation into her being able to leave the tower.

“(Y/N), I hate leaving you after fights. Especially when I’ve been in the right the entire time,” Dream vocalized.

“Okay, so I was thinking about what you said earlier today…” (Y/N) began to speak, but was interrupted by Dream.

“I hope you’re still not set on seeing those stars.”

“I’ve told you! They aren’t stars!” (Y/N) insisted. “I’m leading up to that!”

“I thought we were gonna drop the issue (Y/N),” Dream said sternly.

“No, Dream! I’m just saying you think that I’m not strong enough to take care of myself.”

“I know you’re not strong enough, take it from me.”

“Would you just-“

“We are done.”

“Why can’t you just-“

“I SAID WE ARE DONE.”

(Y/N) shrunk away from her brother, never hearing Dream’s voice so loudly before.

“I…all I wanted to tell you is that, I know what I want for my birthday now…”

Dream, fed up with me, asked coldly, “What.”

“Umm, the paints that dissolve with water? And perhaps a canvas? No bigger than my torso.”

“You know that it’ll be a long trip? And I’ll need to take someone with me?”

“I just thought it would be better than, than the ‘stars’.”

“Will you be fine (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine right here.”

“…Okay. I’ll be back soon.” As Dream prepared to leave for the trip, he looked back at (Y/N) one more time. “Love you, sis.”

“Of course, brother.”

As Dream descended from the tower, he thought to himself. He needed to carry out his plan fast. He rushed to his house to discuss with George, his right hand man. They set off, not for paints, but for items needed to extract (Y/N)’s power from her.

(Y/N) wallowed in her pity in the tower, then remembered the whole ass human in her closet. Puffy hid behind (Y/N)’s legs while she opened the closet doors.

The man just slumped out. Like a limp noodle. It made her jump, but ultimately decided to tie him up in a chair with her hair while hiding in the shadows.

[adorethedistance]

Something to Lose - Luke Patterson X Covington!Reader

JATP masterlist

Requested: luke imagine idea so Luke’s old gf is dead and she’s calebs daughter and is trying to get him to stay with her instead of cross over and then he doenst show up in stand tall . I just had this idea and near had a fit trying to get it down love ur writing also 💖

Warnings: angst, a lot of crying, I don’t even think there’s swearing in this one.

Words: 2293

A/n: I hope I did the request justice. This was kinda stressful the entire time writing it just bc of all the ideas that came. Like I’d be writing and then my brain would be like ‘hey what if this happened’ and then I’m like ‘oh that’s evil. put it in the fic.’ you know?

I begin nervously playing with the tulle skirt of my above-the-knee length party dress. I wanted a mini but dad refused to let me be visible to ghosts and lifers in anything ‘revealing’, so we compromised on above the knee. It’s a pretty dress, the black long sleeves are sheer and the back is completely open, and that’s as scandalous as dad would allow. Ironic considering his dancers’ costumes are cut out fringe leotards and nude tights.

And speaking of dancers,

“Who was that?” I ask Francesca as she comes to stand next to me by the black music stands, branded with the infamous Hollywood Ghost Club logo.

“Who was who?”She takes a tiny sip of water and readjusts her massive blue and purple feather headdress. Dad always chooses the most extravagant costumes. Sometimes I wonder how they’re able to dance without falling over from being so… top heavy I guess?

“That guy you were dancing in front of in the denim coat?”

“What are you talking about? I was dancing in front of Willie.”

“Nice try, I know that was Angie. Maybe next time.” On the first day the girls set foot in the place they were such amazing dancers, dad invited them to perform front and center if they wanted to join the club. The downside was he could never tell them apart. I don’t know how though, they’re not indiscernibly identical. I made it my goal to always be able to tell them apart, and they made it their goal to get me to mix them up just once.

“We’re gonna get you one of these days.”

“Yeah, sure. But, uh, do you know who he is?”

“I don’t but maybe you will?”

“What?” Glancing up to Fran’s face she gives me a look and directs me with her eyes before smiling smugly and walking away. I follow her gaze to see my dad standing on the far side of their table, talking with the attractive stranger. His excitement makes his every movement animated and he can’t even seem to string a coherent sentence. Inviting them to sit down, dad starts saying something about Willie and magic? The conversation doesn’t last long and once he leaves, I debate whether or not to approach the handsome stranger.

“Who are we looking at?” I’m startled when I hear Angie’s voice in my right ear.

“Oh. The one at the front table in the denim overcoat.”

“You mean the one Franny was dancing in front of?”

“She already tried that.”

“Dammit!” I laugh at yet another failed attempt.

“I don’t even know why you guys bother anymore.”

“Whatever. Why are we staring at him?”

“I’m debating whether or not I should talk to him.” Angie sends me a look that says ‘have more faith in yourself’ which I gleefully ignore.

“Shoot your shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“My dad could interrupt and say something totally embarrassing. He wasn’t done talking to them, he just had to do rounds.”

“Girl, have you seen how many people are here tonight? He’s not gonna be done any time soon, so go while you still have some time!” Angie punctuates her sentence by gently pushing me forward, and I stumble in the direction of the cute stranger. The sudden jerky movement seems to catch his attention and his eyes soften once they meet mine. He smiles softly as a greeting and when I return the look, he takes that as an invitation to walk my way. I’m standing in the middle of the dance floor, frozen partially out of fear and partly out of curiosity.

“Hey, I’m Luke,” denim extends his hand politely and… extremely flusteredly? He sounds breathless and a touch fearful. I’m used to the energy as the club intimidates first-timers. I take his hand,

“Y/n.” Omitting my last name tends to do me a lot of good.

“Wow. That’s really pretty,”

“It’s nothing special.”

“You’re really pretty.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“So, uh-“ he trails off in search of a conversation starter, “What brings you to the Hollywood Ghost Club?”

“Oh, you know... just uhm- just a night out.”

“Do you come to the Club a lot?”

“You could say that. It’s pretty much a second home.”

“Y/n, darling. There you are!” Luke watches my face drop from its pleasant ‘chatting with guests’ expression, to a relaxed almost-frown.

“Here I am.”

“And I see you’ve met Luke.”

“Yes sir.”

“I trust my daughter is keeping you in good company?”

“Your daughter?” Luke nearly chokes on the mystical air of the Hollywood Ghost Club.

“I did not choke!”

“You choked.” Luke and I argue over the details of how we met, in the backstage/dressing room area of the Club. It feels like lifetimes ago, but it wasn’t. And yet in such a short time, we had become completely infatuated and comfortable with one another. So much so that me wearing a floor-length evening gown and jewels doesn’t make me feel out of place with his jeans and flannel shirt.

Despite my light laughter, Luke’s face is fairly flat. He’s beginning to stare off into space, inattentive from our lull in the conversation.

“Hey, you okay?” He snaps back into reality.

“Uh, yeah.”

“You don’t sound so sure.” After a long moment of hesitation, he begins to speak, not looking up from the scuff on the linoleum flooring.

“Y/n, I have something to tell you.”

“What’s up?”

“The boys and I… We… we have unfinished business…”

“Of course you do. That’s why you’re here- why all of us are here.”

“We’re gonna play the Orpheum tonight. At seven.”

“That’s so cool! Tha-” I feel my words trapped in my throat. “That’s your unfinished business... Play the show you never got to before you died.” I feel a well of tears flooding my bottom lash line. They’re not tears of sadness. “That’s your unfinished business. And you’re playing there tonight. Why didn’t you tell me as soon as you found out?!” I cry out in anguish. Luke’s face falls from a somber reluctance to break the news, to utter heartbreak.

“Y/n, I-”

“I thought we had something.”

“We do!”

“Then why would you wait to tell me until,” I check the analog clock on the wall behind him, “An hour before you go?!”

“I wanted to enjoy our last day together without having to think about it. I didn’t think it’d make you this angry.”

“Well, I am angry, Luke!” My sentence is punctuated by Luke getting zapped by a jolt of electricity. He groans as he tries to remain standing upright. The tears streaming down my face slow from a mix of anger to extreme worry.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Your dad gave us a ‘club stamp’ that first night we left.” My face falls slack as I register what he’s just said. Without another word, I furiously push out of my chair and out of the dressing room. Each stride is larger than the last as I let my legs carry me into the wings of the Club’s circular stage. When I have the familiar silver tinsel entrance in sight, I stop cold in my tracks. In front of me stands Alex, in a dazzling pink coat and diamond-covered oxfords, and Reggie, in a luxurious red vest and coat covered in black floral detailing. In front of them stands my father in his extravagant purple number that’s reminiscent of his outfits he wore when performing.

My frustrated steps carried me into his sight and the volume of my strides drew the two boys’ attention behind them. Luke. Luke stupidly followed me out here, and father merely looks at me and blinks authoritatively before redirecting his gaze onto my boyfriend.

“There you are. I knew I was missing a third musketeer.” With a snap of his fingers, dad has poofed Luke out from behind me and poofs him back in between his bandmates. When he reappears he’s wearing a deep blue suit with a black, tiered chiffon collar and bowtie.

“Isn’t it nice that you’re all here together?” Dad launches into his huge speech, seemingly convincing them to stay at the club. He mentions everything they want can be theirs here like Willie, the glory of performing, connection with an audience. As he speaks, he steps forward and reaches up. I go to yell and reach for Luke, but nothing comes out. There’s no sound coming from my mouth, and the undersurface of my black heels feel frozen solid to the ground. Dad notices my movement and shoots me a look to knock it off. Luke sees and as he moves to turn his head, dad reaches up to keep his focus forward before adjusting Luke’s collar for him. He continues with his big speech as another jolt graces all three boys at once.

“I suggest you accept my offer because the clock is ticking,” he downs one more sip of water, preparing to perform, “Ouch. You know where to find me.”

When he disappears onto the stage, I’m released from my spot and the momentum of my struggling launches me forward. Luke turns around just in time to catch me and once he does he doesn’t release me from his arms.

“Luke, I didn’t-”

“Shhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He holds me in his arms, one hand on my head to cradle me close to his chest and the other wrapped soothingly around my waist.

“He’s right,” I choke out my words through heavy sobs, “You don’t know that the Orpheum is really your unfinished business. What if it’s not? These jolts could kill you, Luke. For good. My dad may be powerful, but he doesn’t have the power to bring you back from this.”

When I look up, Luke has a heartbroken expression painted all over his face. Before I can speak again, Alex poofs out from beside us. Sharing a worried expression, Luke and I look out onto the stage where dad has him soloing front and center.

“I-I-I, I made a-a promise-”

“To Julie, I know. But if she’s really as wonderful, and as kind, and understanding, and loving as you describe her to be, won’t she understand?” Luke’s expression softens in realization.

“You’re actually considering staying with Caleb?” Reggie asks Luke incredulously. Before he can receive an answer, he, too, is poofed out onto the stage in Alex’s previous spot, to play a jazzy bass solo. Luke looks all around the backstage area, at the audience, between his band members, and at my dad. Finally, his eyes settle on mine. I can’t read his expression; I wish I knew what was going on inside his head.

“Stay.”

Luke and I run out of time when dad calls his name. He’s poofed us apart so I’m frozen against the downstage wall, out of sight from the audience, and Luke is struggling his way onto the stage.

Dad has him soloing for the audience, to create a musical dialogue between the two of them. Luke, conflicted, looks between me and my dad unsure of how to feel. The performer side of him must be loving the high that comes with performing in the club, but the loyal side of him, I can tell, is yearning for Julie.

When the song ends, the three boys share a single look of concern and remorse, no doubt for Julie. I can’t help but feel selfish asking him to stay. It’s not fair for me to ask him to choose between me and her... But that’s not what I’m asking. If all three of them stay here, they don’t risk dying for good. Surely Julie can understand choosing life, or the afterlife rather, over freedom is a rational trade.

Coming to his senses Luke runs off stage.

“Y/n-”

“It’s selfish of me to ask you to stay-”

“I’m staying.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to die, Y/n. If that means I have to play in your dad’s band, fine. But at least we can be together.” Luke runs the pad of his thumb across my cheek to wipe away the tear shed out of joy. Our moment is ended when Alex and Reggie have also returned backstage.

“Boys, if we stay here, we’ll get to live and make music for as long as we want.”

“You said it yourself, we made a promise. To Julie.” Reggie almost looks like he wants to cry.

“If this is what you want- to spend eternity playing jazz solos behind Caleb -I can’t stop you. But I’m not gonna let Julie down. Not again.” Alex searches Luke’s face for any hesitation. When he doesn’t find the change of heart he’s looking for, Alex nods and fidgets with his drumsticks in one hand. The sudden swell of emotion leads the two of them to hug each other tightly; I can’t imagine their pain of knowing they might never see each other again. When they let go, Luke and Reggie share in a hug and the heartache pulls Alex into their hug.

“Can you do me a favor?” Luke asks, sniffling away a few tears. Reggie and Alex nod,

“Anything.”

“Will you tell Julie she’s a star for me, one last time?” A sharp jolt hits the three of them in unison once more; a signal that it’s really time to say goodbye. With sorrowful smiles, Alex and Reggie poof out of the Hollywood Ghost Club for the last time.

When he turns around, Luke’s face is red and puffy from crying and the sight breaks my heart clean in half. I pull him into a hug and press a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“I love you, Luke.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

***

A/n: YOWZA this really made my heart hurt for Julie sm. I love her and if this were canon I’d have actually kermit.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej

[himooonlight]

who are you? pt. 1 (reggie x reader)

pairing: reggie x reader word count: 3k warnings: sad stuff i guess? this is mostly fluff though plot: you dream about reggie constantly and when you see him perfoming with julie, you decide to ask her about him A/N: english is not my first language and this is my first fanfic, so please, be nice ok? hope you like this. oh, and i'm thinking maybe 5 parts? who knows

- I know this is going to sound weird, but do you know any Reginald who likes country music?

The girl in front of me looks at me as if I have just said the biggest nonsense she has ever heard. Her smile fades and she checks around us as if looking for someone who had also heard my question.

Julie is an intriguing girl. She seems very understandable and kind, but I feel like my sanity is in her hands, which makes her figure weigh too much on me. I can't look away from her worried features, feeling bad for making her feel like this. I know she had a terrible year having to deal with her mother's death and all the block to play and sing, but I can't help it.

Not knowing the truth is going to consume me.

- What did you say? - She asks.

Julie and I have never spoken before. I am a year older than her and our school schedules have never crossed, even though I’ve seen her in the halls before. Everyone knows the incredible voice she has, the artistic talent that seems to run through her fingers - it would be impossible not to know about her reputation. What made me talk to her, though, was Reginald.

Reggie.

A boy I thought didn't really exist until three days ago.

- I asked if you know any Reginald who likes country music. - I repeat in a lower tone. - Do you think we can talk?

She doesn't hesitate to agree and soon steps forward to go to the music room. I only know about the existence of that classroom because some of my friends like to go there during lunch hours to sleep a little before afternoon classes. She opens the door, lets me go through, and closes it behind me, making sure we're alone.

We sit in the back of the room, near the windows. The horizontal blinds are open and the weather looks happy. The sun shines brightly and there are no clouds to tell the story of the crazy girl who has been dreaming of someone unreal for months and had fallen in love with a non-existent being.

It's funny how the figurative tranquility makes me uneasy. The day seems peaceful, serene while chaos is established inside of me. The blue, maroon and white paintings on the wall seem to make fun of my nervousness; the delicate yet majestic instruments seem to want me to leave considering that my madness is too much for anyone to bear.

Julie looks at me not knowing that she is my hope and that also makes me anxious. Possibly even more apprehensive than comparing my problems with the calmness of the place around me.

- I'm not sure where to start or if you're going to believe me, but I need you to listen carefully. If it doesn't make sense to you, if you don't know what I'm talking about, please just ignore it, ok?

Julie nods and moves her chair closer to mine. Her eyes look worried and I can see that she is an ordinary person. As much as many people have put her on a pedestal, she looks normal and comprehensive at close range. She doesn't look like someone who would be evil and bitter of her own accord and it's comforting to know that even if she can't help me, maybe she can understand my torments in some way.

I let the air enter my lungs, my shoulders going up and down slightly. She doesn't pressure me to speak even though I can interpret by her fingers tapping on her leg that she wants me to say something soon.

Without thinking too much about word choices, I open my heart to her because some things need to be shared.

Even when it's not easy to start.

- A few months ago I started having dreams with Reggie. He looks just like the guy you sing in that band with, the bass player. A friend of mine showed me a video of you a few days ago and I know it's him, it can only be him. - Without thinking too much, my hands reach for hers, as if begging her to believe me. Julie doesn't back down or make a move to start laughing and that encourages me to continue, with as many details as possible. - Do you know who he is? My friend said they are holograms, but probably it's inspired by some real person, right?

My speech starts to get tangled up and Julie continues with the same expression as when we arrived, just listening to what I have to say. I feel pathetic because I seem to be performing a show for something that in the eyes of others may be irrelevant. I wish I could explain to her that I am usually a very rational person. I like reasonable explanations, the feeling of being in control of where I am going, of having a detailed plan on how to achieve my goals. In general I know that unforeseen events can happen, but the relief that organization and rationality bring me is too comforting and important for me to be able to accept Reggie in my life under normal circumstances.

However, he quickly became someone important to me and it's scary how just the thought of him can make me feel nice and peaceful.

Reggie brought me peace of the kind that you often seek while sleeping or resting. Peace of the kind that we look for when looking at the sky, at flowers, at children playing in a park happily. He, someone I didn't know, offered me happiness by just appearing in my dreams, smiling at my sleeping version. It was something about his adorable smile, his small teeth, his upturned nose and expressive eyebrows. It was something about the way he made me laugh, how he had genuine intentions about everything, how his beautiful eyes lit up when he talked about something he liked.

- I don't know anything about creating holograms, sorry. - Julie answers, smiling weakly and clearing her throat. She looks uncomfortable, so I let go of her hand. - But if I find anything about it, I'll let you know.

- Julie, you really don't know anything about him? He loves pizza, has a very peculiar sense of humor and likes children and animals. He likes it very much. He is not very close to his family, but he regards his two best friends as if they were brothers. He is kind, understanding and real. I guess truthful is a better choice of words, cause I don't know if he really exists.

I know she can see my distress from the way I'm letting the words flow, but I can't help it. Reggie not only brings me peace but also a feeling of belonging that seems to go beyond the moment.

It's not like I'm getting to know him, it's like I'm recognizing him.

- Look, are you sure you are not confusing him with someone else?

Julie herself doesn't seem to believe or agree with her question. I'm being too specific and I know it. I know this because Reggie asked for my help on Thursday night's dream, saying that he didn't know if he could make it. I know this because he told me the name of his band. I know this because he said he didn't recognize me, but that he felt the same way about me, about us.

- Julie, I know about Sunset Curve. I looked them up and I know they died 25 years ago. - I answer, looking at my own feet. I don't want her to think I'm a threat and that I'm going to expose her secret. I just want answers, I just want a chance to understand my connection with Reggie. - I just want to know if you know Reggie. If there is anyone I can ask why he appears in my dreams, why I…

I can't complete it out loud, but mentally I say "fell in love with him".

I know why I fell in love with him, to be honest.

Reggie is physically familiar. More than that, it's like meeting someone special who means a lot to me. He's someone whose beauty comes from his smile. The kind of person who is always trying to see the positive in things. Who never believes that he has actually lost anything or that he is in the wrong place. He's the type to believe that every thing he dropped on the floor and didn't see, every umbrella forgotten somewhere, every delay unintentionally; everything means something. An arrangement so that he could be in the place he is in right now and that this place could not be a mistake. He's the type who doesn't bother with something that broke, with something unexpected, with something he isn't planning because he is convinced that maybe he broke a plate today so he could go to the market and find money on the floor or just feel how pleasant the day is. That maybe he was late because the bus he was going to take was going to break down halfway. He is the type who thinks that regardless of the situation, he is in the right place, where he should be.

Reggie has an engaging aura, as much as I couldn't even explain what exactly it means. He is affectionate, funny and I don't think I could ever create him.

- Why you…? - She insists.

- Why I feel this way about him.

Julie seems to think about what I said and I choose not to press her. I pay attention to the room, on how the sun comes through the window and makes me think of the day I met Reggie.

My first dream with him was at a book club. It was a friendly place that I had never visited before; a two-story white house with a big backyard. The meeting took place outside and the residence looked like it was turned into a cultural center. About five people had books in their hands and were talking excitedly about the story, going on about the metaphors the author had used to explain the parents' suffering when they lost their child. Near the boundaries of the place, three boys who seemed out of place were talking quietly. At their feet, boxes of instruments looked like misunderstood foreigners while snacks and sweets on the table near them were very much welcomed. The blond boy next to Reggie was talking to another boy about something I couldn't hear and Reggie seemed to shine.

It was late afternoon and the sun was passing through the trees in the yard. The white fence he leaned against contrasted with the black clothes he wore, while the darkness of the fabric contradicted with the gentleness of his face. He had caught my attention the minute my eyes met his.

Without saying anything, Reggie came towards me, making me nervous. In the dream, however, I was a man. As much as I was living and seeing everything from my point of view, my body was masculine and taller. My hands were calloused for some reason that I did not know and my clothes were extremely large, almost sloppy.

- Hi. - Reggie said, smiling as if he knew me. His eyes were shining and I was sure mine were too. - Do you have a name or can I call you mine?

We were not too far away from his friends for them not to hear us. Soon they started laughing out loud, embarrassed by the pick up line. I couldn't help but laugh, even though in some part of my brain I knew that maybe if the situation was rationalized, I would find it weird. However, I felt the same way about him. The desire to meet him, to know his preferences, to feel what his hand would be like in mine.

- Maybe I went too far with that one. - He said, giving me no chance to answer. - I think I have the right to remain silent.

- Reggie, you have the right to remain silent. What you lack is capacity. - The blonde said, making the other friend laugh even louder. Some man behind us asked us to speak quietly and right then the sun stopped touching the man in front of me. It seemed that we finally understood that moment; seemed that the universe made sense.

Reginald was speechless, just like me. We looked at each other for a while, admiring each other's details. Because of that exact moment I would know how to point the timid freckles on your nose even with my eyes shut or on the way his eyes seemed to have at least four different shades of blue and green. At that moment I fell in love with his skin, his dimples, how well his hair was combed and how he smelled of jasmine.

- Hey. - I replied to him, holding out my hand. He looked into my eyes, then my lips and then took my hand in his. Time seemed to stop around us. - I guess you do have a name, Reggie, but can I call you mine?

Julie touches my arm, pulling me out of my memories.

- I don't know if I would have answers for you. - She says. - I'm sorry.

Julie gets up and goes to the door. I can't ignore the fact that my throat is dry and my hands are shaking slightly in anticipation of any more response that she wants to give me. Anything, any explanation that might justify how I feel about Reggie.

She suddenly stops and turns to me with wide eyes.

- You can't see, right? - She asks.

I don't know what she's talking about, so I just shake my head.

- Where's Reggie? - She talks again.

When I open my mouth to say that I don't know, he appears near the piano. His eyes are more intense than in my dreams and he does not smell of jasmine, but it's still him.

My Reggie.

I get up quickly and almost trip over the chair, making Julie look at me with even wider eyes. I look from her to him, repeating the process a few times.

He wasn't there a few seconds ago.

He appeared in the middle of nowhere.

Him.

He exists.

- What's going on here? - He asks Julie, but his body is turned towards me. I look him straight in the eye and walk slowly because I'm afraid this is a dream and I want to spend more time looking at him like that. - Julie, why does it look like she sees me?

- I see you, Reggie. - I speak softly, not diverting my attention from him. - You exist.

He opens his mouth a few times, not understanding what is happening and I feel the same thing that I felt in that book club.

Feels like I'm coming home, that I love him, that everything makes sense. I feel that there is too much of him in my heart.

- Can you see me? - He asks, walking slowly towards me. It seems the same distance from my first dream; the same strong feeling of belonging, of finding something that I had already given up looking for. - Do you really see me?

- I see you, I can really see you.

My vision starts to blur and I hear Julie talking in the background, but I can only look at him and ask myself if he knows who I am, if he feels the same. When a tear falls from my eyes, Reggie walks faster, ending our distance and extending his hand to touch my face. When I feel a shy and almost unnoticed contact, I close my eyes and throw myself into his arms, but I can't find his body.

Confused, I open my eyes again.

He's not there.

He disappeared in the middle of nowhere.

Him.

He does not exist.

- It's just a dream, isn't it? Is this my farewell to him? Will I never see him again in my dreams? - I ask Julie. I touch the piano that seemed so close to Reggie before and let my fingers roam the black top of the instrument. I just wish I could feel him the same way. - I could have swore that this is real, but I think I love Reggie so much that he made me like being asleep more than being awake. It is terrible to love him in my dreams and not have him when I wake up in the morning.

- You love me?

I hear his voice behind me and when I turn, he's there.

- Who are you? - I ask, like an idiot. I know who he is, but I need to understand a few things before I completely freak out.

Julie walks over to me and touches my wrist. She seems to be asking me not to scream or pass out. Something in Reggie's eyes is apologizing silently and I'm afraid of his answer.

- I'm Reggie. - He smiles weakly and it hurts me because it's a sad smile. - And I think you're my unfinished business.

[katherinewilliams221b]

For A Greater Good 18/18

not my gif

He Who Must Not Be Named

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order,  joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a     Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14]

[Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17]

A/N: bold lines are from the book Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix

Severus Snape emerged from the shadows to stand in front of his ally.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t come, Severus.” The voice of Albus Dumbledore was, as expected, steady and confident. “Do you have it?”

Snape approached him, eying the room with suspicion. It was the first time he had stepped inside Dumbledore’s hiding place, but despite he trusted the man, a chill ran down his spine. Keeping a stoic expression, he reached inside his robes and handed him a rolled piece of parchment.

“She had it with her. As you said.”

Dumbledore unrolled the document and nodded slowly. Another name wrote itself with the others.

“It is vital that Cornelius sees Voldemort first. After that, I will personally make sure that this information reaches the aurors.” The bearded man walked to the end of the room; the dim light of a candle outlined Fawkes’ silhouette.

“My name appears on that list.” Snape watched Dumbledore’s hand halt in the air. He turned around and with challenging eyes, he stared at him as he unrolled the parchment again. Turning his gaze back to the paper, Dumbledore pursed his lips together as if he was going to whistle and with a light blow, the name ‘Severus Snape’ left the paper in the form of black ashes.

He looked up at the potions teacher from up his glasses. Snape nodded.

“What happened to Yankelevich?”

“She will be brought to Nurmergard” The phoenix moved so his master could slide the parchment under him. “Attempted murder, at least.”

“I don’t understand why you sent Williams. Yankelevich wasn’t an immediate threat and Alastor could have done it faster and more efficiently.”

Dumbledore turned and put his hands behind his back. “You underestimate her. She’s learnt fast, and listened to your instructions, didn’t she? You were busy training Harry to notice, of course, but her occlumency skills have improved enormously, and she’s been practising how to communicate with Mr Weasley.”

“You said she would, yes…”

“Well, she refused using her patronus to communicate, and she needed to be away from him to practise.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but he reconsider it. At Snape’s piercing stare, he kept going, “Astrid knew someone was up to no good and needed a favour, however,” he pointed at Fawkes’ nest “that was my goal.”

He walked to the nearest chair and sat down, grabbing a goblet from the table. Before sipping, he caught how Snape’s jaw tensed. “Besides, Alastor’s never run freely around a castle, breaking rules and finding places he is not supposed to enter. She has.”

“How did she know how to find it?”

“I said her skills had improved, not that they were better than mine. I might have… given her a small guidance.” He raised his hand up to his temple’s level and brushed his index and thumb together. “ I was certain that Karkarov knew about the existence of the room. It was the most logical place to hide it.”

“Where is he now?” demanded Snape.

Dumbledore looked at his partner with amused eyes, but corrected his demeanour quickly. “I have no idea. I mistakenly believed he would be in the forest. I sent a letter to Katherine in hopes she would meet him there. Turns out, he is smarter than I thought.”

“It won’t be long until He finds out Karkarov’s writing that.” Snape pointed at Fawkes’s nest, and the bird chirped unhappily.

“I know.” He tsked and took a sip from his beverage, “But it was his choice.”

“What are you going to do until then?”

“We’ll wait. That spell is not easy to perform. We’ll let him write as much as he can.” They fell silent for a long while, lost in their thoughts, until Dumbledore spoke again.

“When?”

“Tomorrow. He wants the prophecy.”

“Of course. Of course…” he stood up and crossed his hands in front of him and searched in his companion’s black eyes. Snape reached inside his sleeve and took out a small vial with a silver liquid in it. He handed it to Dumbledore, who read the tag ‘K. Williams. Durmstrang’.

“She will not remember the names.”

With one last nod, Albus Dumbledore observed how his confidant dissolved in the air.

--

Katherine Williams awoke for the second time in the same Grimmauld Place’s cold room. She let the sun rays hit her eyelids and savoured the memory of Charlie’s firm body against her own.

When she reached behind her, only cold sheets wished her a good morning.

Promise me something. Promise me you’ll wake me up to say goodbye.

She stared at the pillow next to her and sighed. To be fair, he didn’t make such a promise. He didn’t say anything at all.

Putting her disappointment aside, she prepared herself for one of the most exhausting whirlwinds one could face: the loving care of Molly Weasley.

Sitting up with her back against the headboard, she stretched her neck to the side and had to do a double take at the nightstand.

A pink flower with orange undertones sat beside a piece of paper that was folded in half. Her stomach flipped, and she considered forgiving him for leaving.

A snapdragon for the strongest of flowers.

I hope this wasn’t a one-time thing. Owl me.

“Oh, shut up!” Kate whispered, but a chuckle escaped her mouth, anyway.

Movement on the other side of the door startled her, and she hid the note under the pillow before quickly hiding herself behind the covers.

The doorknob turned, and Mrs Weasley entered the room.

“Oh, thank Godric you are alright!” Molly was by her side in four long strides and cradled Kate’s head in her hands. “How are you feeling? Charles told me you woke up last night. You look pale. Did you rest?”

“Yes, Mrs Weasley, I’m fine. My head is spinning a little, though.”

“Of course, of course, let me see that arm.”

Internally complaining, Kate let her put the cream on her arm and tend the bruises of her neck.  She didn’t have the courage to tell her that wouldn’t make the scar disappear. When she finished, Molly nodded with a satisfied smile and proceeded to pick up the clothes that were scattered on the floor. Kate held her breath during the entire the process.

“This boy... tsk... taught him better than this! At least he could have brought his clothes with him…” Kate wasn’t sure if she was oblivious or if she was giving them a green card because they weren’t at The Burrow. In any case, she felt the need to take Charlie off the hook.

“I’m sorry, that’s my fault, Charlie let me use his clothes after I showered and when I went to sleep... they were bothering me.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. She gestured her neck to point at her bruises and then remembered that maybe there were ones more recent, that she did not want to explain. Charlie had never left a mark on her, but that night he felt a tad possessive and she wasn’t sure he could be trusted.

Although Molly hadn’t commented on them while she was applying the cream, the younger witch rested her hand there, trying to appear casual. Just in case.

“Ah, don’t worry, dear.” Molly waved her free hand nonchalantly and went to pick her cloak from the floor. While putting on the robe that Charlie had left at the end of the bed, Kate remembered that she technically stole the uniform band.

“Oh, this is warm! What a nice coat!” She waved the magically warmed piece of clothing, admiring it, and something the size of a matchbox flew across the room in doing so. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I always check the pockets and now look at this!” She murmured something under her breath and went to pick up the mysterious object, but Kate interrupted her.

“I’ll get it, don’t worry.”

“Very well, then. I made you some breakfast, but it’s already cold, Charlie made me swear I would let you sleep in!” She laughed and when she was crossing the threshold, she added, “Arthur got your trunk, it’s downs… ah!”

Mr Weasley appeared from behind her with a smile on his face and his hands on her waist.

“Oh, not you too, Arthur, I have enough with your sons apparating everywhere…”

His husband ignored her with a laugh and entered the room, her trunk following him in the air.

“Special delivery!” He roared.

“Thank you so much, Mr Weasley.” He approached Kate, and after hugging her shoulders with an arm, he kissed the top of her head. “You scared us the other day, eh?” He squeezed her. “But, let’s thank Godric you are safe and sound! I must go to work now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“I’m fine, really. We healers recover quickly. Tonks filled me in, and I’m feeling alright.”

“Alright, then. I’ll let you change.” Molly placed a hand on her own cheek for a moment and left the room without another word.

The moment Mrs Weasley closed the door behind her, Kate spooned around and crawled down the wooden desk to retrieve the small object.

Placing it on her palm, she murmured ‘engorgio’, making the tiny leather journal grow to its original size.

Letters, maps, notes, names, drawings, and a full research on how to magically cross plant species were contained in that notebook. The past six months were portrayed in those pieces of paper, and their value was incalculable.

Looking up, she faced one of the obscure paintings that belonged to the Black family. Kate stared at a woman standing on a bridge in what appeared to be a forest, and a question formed in her mind. She needed to go to St. Mungo’s.

 Convincing Molly that she could go alone to the hospital was harder than the mission she just came from. After a diluted Invigoration Draught and some help from Lupin, she managed to step out of Grimmauld Place.

She didn’t feel ready to apparate, and she doubted she would ever be, so she enjoyed her walk through the streets of the city. With the muggle money that Lupin gave her, she jumped on the first underground station she saw and followed his directions.

She got comfortable on an empty seat and observed the people on the train car. When she saw a couple getting handsy in a corner, a wave of sadness washed over her, and had to look away.

She missed Charlie terribly. The night before was too desperate and rushed, she didn’t have time to savour the moment. She didn’t even ask him about his mission with the giants, about his dragons, or about how he felt all that time alone at home. Being on a mission kept her head occupied for most of the time, but now, with nothing to do, she anticipated some time of loneliness.

She brought her hand to her chest, and her heart ached even more when she couldn’t find the necklace that Charlie had gifted her many years before. No. Stop it. You’ll get answers and study your notes and then... and then you will have to explain to Dumbledore you lost an important document that could have saved lives. Brilliant.

Soft clapping noises brought her back to reality. A woman in front of her was struggling to hold an excited baby on her lap. Kate observed the child and smiled when his little finger touched her mother’s nose. The baby turned his head and stared at Kate for a while before raising his arm to wave at her. She chuckled and returned the greeting, her trip improving slightly and temporarily.

 Walking through St Mungo’s doors had a mixed effect of nostalgia and excitement. She had spent many hours in that hospital studying, training, and learning, and all of a sudden, she was fresh out of Hogwarts again, with all the emotions that implied. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the corridor and started searching for her first mentor and boss, Madame Louise.

She scanned the faces of the healers that were working, rapidly treating the patients like frantic ants recollecting their food.

“Williams?” Kate turned at the deep voice calling her and recognised the robust middle-aged woman in front of her. “What brings you here? I thought you were working in Romania?”

“Hello, Madame Louise, yes, well I was… working there. But I’m here as a patient today.”

Madame Louise frowned and looked at Kate up and down before giving a curt nod.

“Wait on that bed.” She said before turning and walking away.

Kate sat as directed and stared at the beautiful glass stained windows of the place.

“I request you let me go right now! This is nonsense.” She could recognise that firm voice anywhere. To her right Professor McGonagall was lying on one of the beds and arguing with a boy that Kate figured he was wishing he hadn’t been born.

She walked towards them and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.”

“Who are you? You are not a healer; Madame Louise will hear about this.”

“Mister, this young woman knows more than you, do us all a favour and go with your mother.” Intervened McGonagall.

“I heard Jared O’Leary was looking for you.” The boy shifted in his place and nodded nervously before leaving them alone.

“Professor, what happened?” Kate’s healer mode activated and started scanning McGonagall for injuries and signals of distress.

“Oh, Williams, a lot is been happening this past year. I can imagine you’ve been informed?”

“Vaguely. I arrived two days ago from…”

“I know.”

Kate grabbed the file at the foot of the bed and read the report on McGonagall’s state.

“Four stunning spells to the chest?” She looked up and asked with her eyes, but her professor wasn’t in a mood for a talk.

“Williams, I must get out of here and go back to Hogwarts. I’m afraid it’s going to be too late by the time they let me go.”

“Professor, you could faint just by… too late for what?”

“Williams!” Madame Louise motioned her to come closer. Kate hesitated, but followed the mediwizard to a quieter space. “What happens to be the problem?”

“I’ve been poisoned two days ago.”

“In that case you should have come earlier, don’t you think?”

“There’s been… complications. I wanted to ask you if it’s possible to poison someone without using a vial or a potion or, I don’t know, food or drinks.”

The woman hummed and crossed her arms in front of her. “That’s rather strange.”

“Is this…” Kate moved the collar of the shirt to the side, revealing the red marks that hadn’t disappeared yet. “… a possible way?”

Louise grabbed the glasses that were hanging by a chain around her neck and placed them on the tip of her nose to inspect the injuries.

“The poison could have been injected with some kind of needle, but the shape of these marks means claws or… nails.”

She took her glasses off and waved them while talking. “I imagine it is possible, but you must have a very twisted mind to carry around poison in your nails. Also, you need to be very careful, a bad placement of the poison can cause yourself to get ill. In what kind of troubles are you getting into, Williams?”

“It’s a story for another day.”

 “Madame Louise, I can’t find Jared O’Leary…” The boy that was treating McGonagall appeared from behind Kate.

“What are you talking about? Go back to work! Naturally, you can’t find him. He doesn’t work here anymore!”

“But she…”

“Is every patient cured, Mr Boyle?” Kate slid away from the conversation to where Professor McGonagall was resting.

“I suddenly feel tired…”

Kate nodded and checked that the potions on her nightstand were filled and in order. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she turned to look at McGonagall.

“Katherine. You must find Potter. Something terrible is about to happen.”

Kate frowned and got closer to her former professor’s face.

“The Ministry. Try the Ministry,” she whispered.

Kate didn’t think twice. She ran all she could to the underground station, receiving some odd glances from the surrounding people.

When she arrived at the Ministry stop, she could sense the commotion even from the muggles that were passing by.

“A gas leak.” She heard while climbing up the mechanic stairs. Some people complained at her rudeness, but she couldn’t stop and apologise at the moment.

“There’s the press. Those vultures. It was probably a problem with plumbing. Look! The water reached the first floor!” A man said.

Kate tried to walk among the curious souls that were conglomerated around the building and recognised the protection bubble that was forming around it. She slid under it with ease.

“But I heard an explosion! I’m telling you!” a woman said to a journalist.

She tried to enter the building, but what seemed to be an auror stopped her.

“Let me in! I’m a healer!”

The man remained stoic and grabbed her arm.

“Identification?”

“I… I don’t have it right now but…”

“You can’t go in, Miss” She tried to get rid of him and she almost succeeded, but when the doors to the Ministry opened, she stopped the struggle. Four aurors walked out the building protecting several figures that walked behind them. She tried to reach them, but the security guard grabbed her again.

“You are the cursed girl! Daily Prophet here! Are you involved in the accident? How do you think your father will react to this? How do you think this is connected to your brother?”

“I’m not…” dumbfounded by the flash of a camera, she tried to escape from the journalists.

“Miss Williams! Miss Williams! What can you tell us about the person who died?”

She couldn’t hear anything, see anything, someone pushed her, and she felt another flash of a camera. Her head was spinning.

Cornelius Fudge stepped out of the building and pointed his wand at his neck. He cleared his throat and all the attention was directed at him.

“It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord… well, you know who I mean… is alive and among us again.”

--

[Epilogue]

--

Tag List:

@eldritchscreech​

@meteora-fc​

@cazreadsstuff

@the-navistar-carol​

@am-i-space​

[awyeahitssam]

The urge wasn’t anything new per se, so Harry didn’t think to attribute it to magic.

It was like when he painted his lips in the early hours of the morning, or charmed his nails a sexy, sparkling red only to whisper it away when he thought somebody might notice.

Harry was a boy, but he was a boy that liked makeup and nail polish and the daring swish of his robes with no constricting trousers underneath. 

The Room of Requirement was a safe haven of sorts. Harry did not have to fear discovery here. He could line his eyes with black, paint his lips in bold colors, and let his nails sparkle to his heart’s content. Even better, he could resize and don the somewhat ambiguous dress robes he’d been too cowardly to wear to the Yule Ball. And if he sashayed around the room, watching his movements in the mirrored walls—well. Everybody liked to feel sexy once in a while.

When he was here, Harry could be completely himself. 

His lips tilted with the unusual confidence he always found clad in this armor, silky-smooth fabric and a carefully painted face. It was a smirk, and it looked good. Pretty. Alluring, even. Words he would normally never associate with himself. 

Harry broke away from his own gaze, turning with a dramatic spin and enjoying the swish of silky-smooth fabric against his bare legs. 

That’s when he saw it. It was painstakingly intricate silver, with a lovely aquamarine stone in the center.

Harry grinned. The room had provided him with materials before. He preferred to put the lipstick on directly, rather than with a spell, and painting his nails himself, watching the steady transformation, was immensely satisfying. Sure, the diadem was a little ostentatious, but the gem matched the trim of his robes. And why not? It wasn’t like anybody would ever know. Would ever see.

Yet when he looked up to check his reflection after settling it on his head, Harry found that he was not alone. A boy stood directly behind him, several inches taller and broader, with handsome eyes and night-dark curls. His thin lips were curled into a smirk as he observed Harry right back, and when he spoke the silver of his voice was just as polished as the diadem.

“Hello. Who might you be?”

Harry inhaled sharply, because he may not have been recognized but he remembered the shade of Tom Riddle rather vividly from the Chamber of Secrets and being pulled into his boyhood diary. He reached up, hands clasping the edges of the diadem, and gave a sharp tug.

It didn’t budge. 

“Yes, you’ll find that it won’t come off,” Riddle said. He held Harry’s startled green eyes easily in the mirror, unconcerned. “A harmless little spell, but binding nonetheless. I suppose you’ll just have to wait for the enchantment to wear off…” 

“Harmless?” Harry murmured lowly, and for a moment Riddle looked surprised. He glanced Harry over, then, and—was he just realizing he was a boy? Harry swallowed, waiting for the disgust and derision. It hardly mattered, this was Voldemort, but still… he hid who he was for good reason. 

But when dark eyes met his own again, Riddle’s expression had hardly changed at all. In fact, he seemed almost intrigued, though he held his tongue well enough.

“A sticking charm,” he wrote off Harry’s concerns lightly. “The incantation is extremely old, which means there’s little way to break it with modern counter-spells.”

He sounded genuinely apologetic. Harry hadn’t properly appreciated what a terribly good liar Riddle was at twelve, but at sixteen he could at least recognize that it took a certain kind of bravery to look someone dead in the eye and lie to them. Harry would know. 

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust the word of a Dark Lord,” Harry muttered rhetorically. If he focused he could feel tendrils of the diadem's magic clinging to his scalp. He closed his eyes and began to wave his wand, intent on severing the hold. There were already hundreds of eager, clinging curls. He severed one—five—as soon as he reached the tenth they began reforming. 

“You know of me,” Riddle murmured a bit blankly, watching Harry repeat the process with limited results. He seemed more intrigued than worried, but of course he didn’t realize how many times Harry had foiled him. “It is only fair that you return the favor, is it not? What is your name, darling?”

Harry ignored him. He made it to thirty tendrils without any reconnections, but as he neared forty he felt them begin to reattach. 

“Why are you trying to take it off? The diadem looks remarkably striking on you. It’d be a shame to remove it,” Riddle said slickly. 

“Excuse me for caring more about my life than my looks,” he muttered irritably, making a harsh slashing motion with his wand. Over half the strands were severed, and Riddle tensed for the first time.

“What makes you think I would hurt you?” he coos, and Harry can feel the weight of Riddle’s palm settle over his hip, long fingers trailing up and down his waist. The motion is soothing and intimate but the contact is undeniably startling. Harry had closed his eyes—had just assumed that Riddle was intangible. In his grip, Harry’s scar buzzes. He feels something hot lick down his spine, warming his gut. “I do like pretty things, darling.” 

Harry pressed his lips together, ignoring the way his cheeks warm at the compliment. It was false praise, meant to distract him from his goal, but nobody had ever called Harry pretty before. 

(He was a boy, he wasn’t supposed to be pretty, but…) 

Hot breath against his neck sends shivers down Harry’s spine. “I’ve been alone for so long.”

Harry trembles, twisting away from the apparition. Voldemort was not meant to be soft promises and gentle touches. Even as a teenager he had been more likely to kill Harry than caress him. So then why…?

It can possess you, he told himself sharply. Or steal your life force and magic.

“You did this to yourself,” Harry bit out. “I’m not about to end up magicless or dead to get you a body.”

Riddle’s brow arched. “It seems you’ve encountered my diary,” he said lightly, seeming amused. His eyes, dark and hungry, betrayed any benevolence he wished to display. “While I am drawing on your magic, I’m sure you can sense how minor the drain is. And don’t I already feel corporeal, my dear?”

Riddle took another step forward, long fingers reaching out to stroke Harry’s face. They ended up on his fringe, brushing the hair that covered his scar away. A thumb reached out, and when the RiddleR touched Harry’s scar he moaned, limbs going weak at the unfamiliar pleasure.

Pain, Harry could bear. Pain he was used to. This, however…

“Yes,” Riddle hissed. His fingers were trembling the faintest bit, and Harry’s gaze rose to find a flush on his cheeks. “That feels good, doesn’t it darling? Wouldn’t you like some more?”

Had Riddle felt it as well? The rush of tingling, mind-numbing pleasure that shot down Harry’s spine to the tips of his toes?

“That scar marks where you tried to kill me when I was a baby,” Harry got out through trembling lips. “He ended up dead instead. So whatever you’re thinking, this is the wrong way to go about it.”

“Have you been Confunded, darling?” Riddle demanded. His thumb pressed over Harry’s scar again, sending a jolt of inexplicable pleasure down his spine. “This marks you as mine. It marks you as my diary was marked, as Ravenclaw’s diadem is. A piece of me is already inside you, sweet boy. I am already inside of you.”

“You’re—?” In spite of the static shivers still shooting through him, Harry felt abruptly sick. He and Voldemort might have a connection, but he would hardly have imbued Harry with a piece of his memory. There was no sense behind it, no logic.

Of course, there was no logic in trying to kill a fifteen month old child after killing its parents, either. 

“I am already inside of you,” Riddle repeats, the words spilling from his lips like venom. Long fingers stroke down Harry’s face, linger against his lips. “And we need not limit it to the one way.”

[pixelhorses]

Theory time!

Spoiler warning for the storyline of SSO so far and the starshine legacy games:

First of all, I just got back from work and I'm really tired,also english is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes.

A theory wich I had for awhile now, but never really discussed, is, that we are in fact not Aideen reborn but more of a potential vessel for her.

Let me explain: The Soul Riders, aka Lisa, Anne, Linda and Alex are definitely the reborn version of the original 4 soulriders and so are their horses. In the starshine legacy games, they find a black and white pic with four girls and horse, that look exactly like them and Starshine, as well as the painting of the original Soul riders Anne (I think it was her?) finds in Pandoria. This indicates, that they have always been the same person or better said they always had the same Soul, which is pretty much the epitome of a rebirth: different body, same soul!

Aideen on the other hand always looked different, which we know, because Catherine was the former "reborn" Aideen and now it is the MC. Another thing that bothered me, was the fact, that both we and Justin could see Catherine as a Ghoust. If we were in fact the reborn  Aideen, both Catherine and the MC would have had to have the same soul. You could say, that we could see and talk to her, because she is a part of us, because we have one soul, however, if that was the case neither Justin nor Linda should have been able to see her as a ghoust, unless it was a seperat soul.

This brings me to another theory of mine, which is, that the ritual, that Evergray tried to perform on Catherine, had the purpose of bringing Aideen back. All we do know abou it is, that it is dangerous and that Catherines horse died during it. I think the goal of this ritual is, to either unify the soul of Aideen and the vessel or to get rid of the vessels soul so that Aideens can inhabited the body.

In case of the second one being true, it could mean, that instead of removing Catherine's soul, he accidentally removed the horse's. Why you need the horse in the first place, I'm not quite sure yet.

Or alternative my theory number 2, Aideens soul is equally divided between the person and the horse, which is why you need both of them during the ritual.

Number 3 would be, that both Aideens and our soul coexist in our body and that you need the soul horse to "wake her up".

I'm really curious what other think about this, so please feel free to talk about this with me.

[thefanficmonster]

For Better And Through Worse

Rodney Skinner (The League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Romance

Summary: Y/N is a simple girl with big dreams. She works hard towards her goal of travelling the world, seeing all it has to offer. She’s also a devoted student, one with the hopes of one day fulfilling yet another dream of becoming a fashion designer and leaving the town her and her sister have been stuck working in. Her stars align and fate smiles down upon her one day when a rather mysterious man makes his way in the café she works at.

Requested by Anon. Hello there! I’m so terribly sorry to be posting your request so late, dear. I hope the fic makes the wait worth it. This is the first time I’ve been introduced to this character and this movie in its entirety and I absolutely loved it! Thank you so much for the request and for your patience. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

“Close that book, Y/N! Your shift’s starting!“ My manager scares me half to death when his voice suddenly booms throughout the empty diner. 

It’s close to one in the morning and I’m stuck with the shitty overnight shift tonight because my older sister wasn’t feeling well. I arrived early while my friend still hadn’t finished his shift and decided to kill time productively by studying behind the cash register. Even though my shift has started, there is no real reason for me to abandon my book considering how dead the place is. Dead, eerie and unsettling. It’s 24/7 diner in the middle of seemingly nowhere. Well, our town in general is a big ‘nowhere’. If you came here on vacation - no you didn’t. You probably got lost along the way to a different destination. If you live here - good luck, hope you get out soon.

A young, 5′2 girl with only a can of pepper spray to defend herself with left in a café working the shift from one to eight AM. That’s simply ludicrous! I can hardly believe my manager has the audacity to leave like this. Not even a ‘call if you need anything’ out of politeness. Nothing! He doesn’t like any of the workers here so I don’t take it personal but he’s EXTRA mean to me because my sister turned his offer of a date down. It’s a surprise he hasn’t fired the both of us yet. To be perfectly honest, I don’t know if he’d be doing damage or doing us a favor by firing us.

I wait for the jerk to leave before reopening my book and proceeding with my reading. I can’t contain the smile that automatically appears on my face whenever my mind wanders into the contents of the pages. Seeing the pictures of the fashion creations gives me hope that one day I’ll be standing in front of a mannequin that will be displaying a piece I’ve designed. A piece won’t be enough though. I want an entire clothing line. Several even! The fiery passion in me won’t be easily satisfied - I have a vivid goal in mind and I won’t rest until I have it in my hands, until I’m looking at my clothes in the windows of shops and in magazines.

I unintentionally stop reading let myself daydream - well, it’s more like dreaming with open eyes considering it’s one AM. My imagination is sometimes so real it scares me. It all feels like I can reach out and grab it, hold it close, live it for a little while. However, that ideal life is soon ended by the sound of the bell that hangs above the door of the café ringing. I come flying down from my daydreaming cloud with a startled jump. My heart is beating quickly for no real reason other than the fact that there’s a person here at this hour. Knowing the type of town this one is, they are either one of the local drunks or not local at all. An outsider. The ones that everyone assumes are criminals on the run.

I couldn’t blame them if they said that about this guy. Mysterious, shady, suspicious - all adjectives that describe him perfectly. His sudden presence makes me uneasy. Many outsiders who choose to stick around for a bit frequent this bar, therefore I know some of them. This one I have never seen before. He almost looks unreal - a walking doll. He’s got an abnormally pale, sheet white complexion, a top hat and sunglasses. Sunglasses?! At the dead of an already pitch black night. I’m surprised he hasn’t stumbled into something yet. Maybe he has, what do I know.

“Good evening. One beer please.“ He says, hopping onto a bar stool and resting his elbows on the counter top of the bar that some ways down from the cash register - the two counters are connected.

“Coming right up.“ That’s the usual response I give to customers but I’ve never said it so hesitantly. He’s not being creepy or anything, he’s not even doing the staring most customers do which while uncomfortable, I still have to tolerate. The only truly off-putting thing about him is his appearance and the fact that he’s here at this hour. Drinking beer.

I keep my gaze on him out of the corner of my eye as I go fetch a cold beer bottle from the fridge behind the bar. I typically do waitressing, but I know my way around the bar as well. I see him reach for yesterday’s paper one of the previous customers has left there. He’s still distracted by it when I approach him and put a coaster down in front of him as well as the beer bottle, mumbling a quick: “Here you go.”

He lifts his head only enough to give me a nod with a small smile. From that proximity, the color of his skin looks more like paint, which is even more unsettling. He has also taken off his sunglasses, his eyes now free to make direct contact with mine which makes me pause for a second before asking the second routine question, “Anything else?”

“Uh, yes....“ His eyes go down to my nametag, “Y/N, could you tell me where this address is?“ He slides a piece of paper over closer to me. 

I reluctantly nod and look at the note he’s handed me. The letters are written in poor handwriting but I can still decipher the majority of what’s written. “This address is from the next town over, sir.” I inform him with a tightlipped smile that’s my way of sort of apologizing for the inconvenience.

He nods slowly, “Well, how far is this town exactly?” He furrows his brows at me and takes out a pen, taking the note back so he could write something at the back of it. 

“It’s a city compared to this one. It’s a two hour drive from here.“ I tilt my head to the side, discreetly looking at what he’s writing down.

“Thank you.“ He puts the note and pen away, “By the way, don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?“ He gives me puzzled look.

I scoff and shrug my shoulders, “Working, as you can see. I’m covering this shift for someone else, I don’t usually work it.” I respond nonchalantly. 

“No, I mean what are you doing working here at all?“ He points at me, “That dress, it’s self-made, right?“ 

Ok that’s off-putting. Either he is clairvoyant or it’s so obvious that an amateur has made it that he couldn’t help but notice and point it out. All I can give as an answer is a slight nod, a baffled expression on my face.

“That’s what I thought. It’s incredible.“ He probably realizes that he has caught me off-guard and has confused me, so he shakes his head with a small chuckle and a wave of his glove covered hand. “I saw the book you were reading on my way in. Fashion and design. So you’re an aspiring clothing designer?“ 

I feel relief wash over me as the confused furrow and pursed lips are replaced by a relaxed smile. I take the few steps back to where I was previously sitting and where I’ve left the book. I hand it to him once I return for him to see. “Yes, but the course here is expensive and I can’t afford it without this job.”

He nods slowly as his eyes carefully scans the pages he turns. “Impressive, so a goal-getter as well.”

I can’t help but giggle, “And a traveler at heart. I also need the money for that...” I open the book to it’s last page and show him the list I have written of places I’d like to visit. 

His eyes widen a bit in amazement as they go down the neatly written list. “You know, I’ve visited some of these places. I plan on visiting the rest as well. I could use a partner.” He winks at me playfully.

I roll my eyes, “As I said, I can’t afford it. You think I’d still be in this town if I could?” I say rather bitterly. Feels like the subject is an open wound and talking about it is the same as pouring salt on it.

“Who says you’ll have to pay a penny. I said I’d like some company, you’ll be paying me with your presence.“ His gaze is firm on mine, his tone suggesting he isn’t kidding around. I unintentionally let my disbelief morph into a ‘bullshit’ expression of distrust that causes him to raise his hands up as if surrendering, “No funny business, though I know what this looks like to you. Trust me, I wouldn’t offer that to just anybody. I sense how strongly you wish to fulfill your dreams. I see it all in your eyes, there’s a flame behind them. And...I’m gonna be honest, I’ve done many less than honorable things in my life. But when I see a chance to do good, I want to take it. Now it’s on you, take it or leave it.“

I’m stunned and frozen. I can’t even answer him. I’m just standing here with my mouth hanging open and eyes wide, staring at him awaiting for him to burst out laughing at any moment like ‘Did you really believe that?!’  But he doesn’t. He remains serious and after what feels like forever smirks, putting a hundred bucks next to the untouched beer bottle. 

“If you change your mind...I swing back the same time tomorrow.“

Before I can even shake free from my shock he has already left. I didn’t even get the chance to tell him I won’t be here the same time tomorrow. I feel my heart sink as my mind races, two sides of me battling - one that wants to take the chance that’s being offered to me and the other scolding me for even considering it.

Dumb or not I’m rooting for the first side. 

Eyes don’t lie. Just like he read me so well just by looking at mine, I read him by looking at his. All he said was true, not a doubt in my mind about it. He meant all he said and for some odd reason I believe him despite him being a complete stranger. I don’t even know his name, for goodness’ sake! But I want to go with him. The hard part for me would be leaving my family behind though.

Well, I have a little less than twenty four hours and a seemingly never-ending uneventful shift ahead of me to ponder it.

                                                              *  *  *

I can’t believe any of this - not what I’ve done, not what I’m doing and most definitely not what I’m about to do.

I have packed my bags and snuck out of the house, running at full speed to the café. When I arrived I was breathless, with a heart beating faster than a galloping horse.

I’m now waiting for the man. The stranger. The person who could be anyone or anything - including dangerous - but right now all he is to me is my path to success, the person who’ll guide me to achieving my goals.

I’m about to go running away with this man, off to God knows where. No one guarantees he won’t do harm to me. I can’t be 100% certain this won’t end badly for me. All I can do is take this chance if I want to. And I really REALLY want to. 

Just as the clock strikes 1:25 AM, an old car pulls up at the curb in front of the café. I’m standing in the shadows, away from any windows to avoid being spotted by the worker who’s on the dead shift as I call it. The way the car has parked it’s positioned directly underneath a street lamp, almost like it’s under a spotlight. The door to the drivers side opens to reveal the same man from last night. When he steps out in the lamp’s light he looks to be glowing, his unusually pale complexion shinning in the light. 

“Y/N!“ I call out to him, startling him for once instead of the other way around.

He stops and looks around, taking the sunglasses off and narrowing his eyes at his surroundings. I chuckle to myself and step within the line of light, “My name’s Y/N. You already know that.” His eyes land on me and a smile spreads across his face as well as mine. “I don’t know yours though.”

He takes a step towards me, “Rodney. Rodney Skinner. Though, please don’t let that name throw you off. It was given to me for far less sadistic reasons than you may be imagining right now.”

I can’t help but laugh, “All I ask is for you to not skin me alive.”

He gives me a small bow, “I shall respect your request. Now...“ he straightens his posture and turns to motion to his car, “To freedom and adventure?”

I don’t know what takes over me and drives me to close the space between us, but it is also to blame for the fact that I pressed my lips against him. Even after realizing what I have done, I don’t pull away. I don’t see my doing as wrong - in fact, I feel like I’m doing all the right things for myself tonight. He responds to the kiss after a second or two of stunned hesitation.

The little kid in me can’t wait for this journey to commence anymore so I pull away abruptly, giving him a bright, wide smile and my eyes bright. I watch as he comes back to the present moment and nods, mumbling as if to himself a quick, “Right...” before circling around the car and opening the passenger side door. 

I gladly take a seat and fasten the seatbelt while Rodney takes my suitcase and backpack and puts them in the trunk of the car. Here it is, I’m seconds away from the biggest step in my life so far. A dangerous and risky step for sure, but the sense of freedom I feel is worth it all. The joy and excitement I feel as the car starts moving is all I need to keep looking forward and keep my mind off my family’s reaction when they find my goodbye note.

“By the way, what’s at that address you showed me yesterday?“ I ask to keep myself distracted from the aforementioned thought which is stronger than I thought it would be.

“Ah, a friend of mine, Nemo. He holds the vehicle of our travels. Tell me...“ his hand nonchalantly rests on top of mine between the seats causing me to blush, “have you ever traveled by a submarine?“

I physically jolt at the absurdness of the question, “You’re not serious!” I turn to look at him, my free hand covering my mouth which is hung open in disbelief.

He laughs, taking the hand he’s holding and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to my knuckles which relaxes me. “I’m deadly serious, Y/N. Speaking of Nemo though, do you know of any good barbecue places in that town? He loves a good barbecue.”

I grimace, “No and I’d much rather never know or enter one.” He gives me a quick puzzled glance, careful not to take his eyes off the road for too long, “I’m a vegetarian.” I clarify with a snicker.

I see the realization be processed and show on his face, followed by a laugh when he says, “Oh Nemo’s gonna love ya.”

I don’t know if that was sarcasm or ironic. I just know one thing - I have so much ahead of me at the moment. Travelling, studying, meeting new people, seeing a submarine, for the love of God! And even a potential romantic relationship. The future has never looked so bright for me, and this is all thanks to this abnormal yet hypnotic man next to me.

Freedom and adventure, here we come!