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buryustogether · 11 months

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lilac - chapter 1

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: the father of one of your students is acting rather strangely - but when he smiles at you, you can’t help but forget your own name.

wc: 6k

warnings/tags: mentions of blood and violence, swearing, pining, stripping, strip club, sex workers, sexual fantasy, smut, thigh riding, fingering, oral (f! receiving), pet names, dom!miguel, single father!miguel, teacher!stripper!reader

author’s note: set in the universe where miguel replaces his father!variant with himself. ps - planning on turning this into a series/full fic.

New York

Earth - 9193

Since you could remember, the sky above the city, flecked with struggling stars and choking on itself over clouds of smog like cigarette smoke, had been deep purple. Some called it violet. Others named it plum. They were trying to make a prettier picture of an ugly reality, desperately ignoring the real world that held them captive. The purple held every soul in this city on a taut leash; each time someone was given a little slack, they wandered too far and discovered that, really, they hadn’t ever wanted to stray in the first place. Car bombings every week. Shootings. Back alley guttings. Innocence all but a foreign language to the citizens of New York.

You wished with every bit of you that one day you’d be able to escape and see the real color of the sky. Because deep down you knew, wanted to believe, wished and prayed… that it was not this shade of dark.

Your classroom was one of the only lit rooms here in Washington Elementary School, a beacon through dimly-lit hallways and the even dimmer streets outside your windows. A long, silent exhale managed to escape your lips as you continued to grade your third graders’ spelling tests, using a pink pen to correct their mistakes instead of a red one. You figured it was less harsh, more inviting to be open to learning from where they first failed. Your back was beginning to cramp from sitting in these damn little-kid chairs, your knees practically hugged to your chest due to how low to the floor you were. You would have been at your desk - hell, you would have been home getting ready for your second job right about now - had it not been for the young girl sitting across the table from you.

Gabriella O’Hara was, in your opinion, one of the most intelligent children you’d had the pleasure of teaching. She was quick and clever and friendly, not to mention, captain of her little soccer team funded by the taxes of PTA parents and the grumbling millionaires of the city. She was a frequent flier on your good-behavior list, and her name had made a home for itself on the principal’s honor roll long before she’d landed in your class.

She was a sweetheart, to say the least. She had been raised well by her father - who, uncharacteristically, had been a no show when it came time for pick up two hours ago.

Glancing up from your papers, you smiled gently at Gabriella as she scribbled along her homework page. “Briella, honey,” you said and leaned your chin in your hand. “Why don’t you check to see if your dad texted at all.”

Obediently, Gabriella dug her phone - a little flip-type, despite there being hundreds of smartphones out these days - and clicked the button to scroll through her recent texts. You watched as her face fell, thick brows and full lips pulling downward. “Nothing,” she said and placed her phone back. She looked to you, and it was obvious from the way she squirmed in her seat that her nervous stomach was starting to get the better of her. “I’m kind of scared, Miss Y/N. My daddy’s never late.”

Setting down your pink pen, you reached across the table and placed a hand on her small forearm. You’d stayed late before when parents were late for pick up, or they forgot, or they were too stoned out of their minds to bother, but you had to admit, you were rather worried, as well. Her father had never been late once, not even by five minutes. So two hours was, really, something to bat an eye at. “I’m sure everything’s fine,” you assured her and offered a gentle smile. “He probably just got held up at work. Maybe his phone died.” Your gaze flickered briefly to the windows behind her, strung across with colorful drawings and decorations, as a number of wailing police cars zipped past. When she started to follow your eyes, you added quickly, “I bet he’s on his way right now. Why don’t you finish up your homework so you can have the rest of the evening free when you get home.”

As she went back to her work, you found yourself tapping your fingernail against the table, your gaze stuck to an empty corner across the room. Miguel O’Hara was nothing but punctual, not just to everyday events like after-school pick up, but to every single thing he did. Soccer practice and games. Parent-teacher conferences. Hell, you wouldn’t put it past him to be an hour early to that fancy job of his at Alchemax every Monday through Friday. He was a perfectionist, signing every grade card check and permission slip with the neatest signature you’d ever seen. And it was a feat to marvel at, considering he was a single father.

Once, at a soccer practice, you’d heard from a few of the mothers who had nothing better to do than gossip that he’d moved himself and Gabriella over from Queens years ago when he was hired as a geneticist. Her mother had apparently left them when she was born, and he’d done everything from that moment on for the good of his little girl.

You weren’t afraid to admit to yourself he was, by far, the best-looking man you’d ever laid eyes on. Cheekbones placed high on his face, wide, broad shoulders, a sinewy frame that nearly challenged the doorframes he walked through. He was friendly, sure. But that was all you knew. You’d never been able to get close enough to know much else. An enigma to your curious mind, Miguel was nothing short of a puzzle that you desperately wanted to put together and see the bigger picture for yourself.

Shaking your head slightly, you forced yourself to wind back into the present. God, you needed to get a fucking grip. Crushing on the father of one of your students? Fucking pathetic. You had a boyfriend, for God’s sake.

You had just begun to grade your papers again, nearing the end of your stack, when there came the sounds of footsteps pounding against the tile floor of the hallway outside. They were jogging, approaching your room at an alarming rate. You stood, thinking it was the janitor having locked himself out of his closet again, and prepared to fetch your keys when a much different - yet no less welcome - figure filled the doorway.

“Hi, daddy,” said Gabriella as Miguel O’Hara entered your classroom.

You looked up, lips parted as you took him in. God, he was stunning. Somewhere around six feet with dark, somewhat-tamed hair that matched his tan skin and the thick brows sitting above his sloped eyes, he stood with a chest that rose and caved rapidly, like he’d run through the entire school searching for your room. Which he shouldn’t have - he knew the classroom his own daughter was in. Didn’t he?

“Oh, baby,” Miguel said and rounded the table so quickly you could have blinked and missed it. He hauled her up into his arms like she was nothing but a sack of flour and hugged her tight to his chest, almost like he was trying to mold the feeling of her to himself. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I lost track of time. I’m so sorry.” As if just realizing you were in the room, watching the pair with a small smile, he set his daughter back down and pulled her backpack from the back of her chair. “Pack up your things, okay? We’ll go home in just a minute.”

He approached you where you stood beside your desk loading your purse, and you swore your heart skipped a beat as he towered over you. Thick, corded muscles and a frame that made your stomach churn excitedly, he was the perfect picture of a fucking masterpiece. “Hi,” he said in a low tone, meant for you to hear and not Gabriella. “I’m so sorry for keeping you here. Time got away from me, and when I got here, the front doors were locked.” He took a breath. “Thank you. For watching her, I mean.”

Forcing your heart to calm its thundering in the confines of your chest, you grinned up at him brightly. “It’s not a problem, Mister O’Hara. I was happy to.” You decided to say nothing about the fact that it was unlike him to lose track of time. He wore a watch that you recognized as one of the latest, expensive versions that were magnetic, not electric, so it was incapable of stopping. How exactly did time get away from a man who revolved around it? “I’m sure she’s going to crash when you get home, anyway. She had a big day.”

Miguel blinked a few times and placed a hand on his hip, jutting it out slightly. Fuck, you wished he wouldn’t do that. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. We had a soccer scrimmage against one of the other classes today and she pulled the winning goal. Then there was the assembly over fire safety, but I’m sure you saw that in the handout last week.”

His lips remained parted for a long moment as his dark, umber gaze traveled across the stack of next week’s announcement handouts. “Right,” he said after a moment or two. “Right. Do, uh… do you think I could have another one of those? For this week. And maybe next week’s, too. Has that been sent home already?”

Giving him a rather crooked smile, you opened a drawer in your desk and produced the light green paper with last week’s announcements. Then you stacked it beneath next week’s and extended it toward his hulking frame. “Sorry if this seems a little… personal, Mister O’Hara,” you said as he took the papers, “but are you feeling alright? I really don’t mean any offense, but you seem a little… off.”

Tilting his head slightly, Miguel seemed to hesitate, fumbling with his answer in his head. He was frozen for a brief moment before your attentions were drawn across the classroom, where Gabriella zipped up her backpack and began to trudge toward the door. “I’m alright,” he said as he turned back to you. “I just, uh… I hit my head this morning. Been a little out of sorts, but I’ll be alright.”

“Daddy,” whined Gabriella under her breath. “I’m tired.”

“Okay, princesa,” he said and met her at your door. After slinging her backpack over his own shoulder and taking her hand, he glanced back at you. “Thank you again…” You watched as his eyes flickered to your name written across the whiteboard. “...Miss Y/N.”

“You’re welcome, Mister O’Hara.” A few more words sat on your tongue, desperately trying to fight against your lips and jump out before the moment escaped. You tried to fight them down, but eventually they won the battle and spilled forth. “And - and you can just call me Y/N.”

Miguel stared at you for a moment, and you thought briefly that you had crossed a line you had been unable to see. Then he smiled gently, his full lips spreading into a gentle grin. He opened his mouth to say something in return before Gabriella pulled him out the door and into the hallway. You listened as their voices and the sounds of their footsteps grew quieter before silencing, then turned away and finished gathering your things.

On your way out of the building, while slipping through the front doors, you noticed the steel bolt lock keeping them shut after dark had been snapped entirely in two - as if someone had pulled on the door hard enough to break the lock on their own.

You figured it to have been a couple students who got their hands on their parents’ bolt cutters and made a mental note to ask the janitor for a replacement.

Once you got to your car and flipped the engine, you took a breath and glanced at yourself in the mirror. In that breath, you willed yourself to switch into the alternate persona you took on after the school days, after the sun had set and the night really came alive from its demented, hungover state during the lightest hours. You pushed your students into the back of your mind, your plans for tomorrow and upcoming projects and due dates into the recesses of your brain. You shoved back thoughts of Miguel O’Hara and everything about how much you wanted to fucking reverse time so that he could smile at you like he had tonight all over again.

It was time to really work, now.

The Menagerie was a club on the northeast side of the Financial District, where the warehouse fires and muggings weren’t quite as common. Police forces cruised through here more often than, say, Harlem or Queens; the people who ran the city had to keep their most well-paid workers protected and thriving, right? Who else would steal from the hands of the poor and throw it all away the first chance they got?

Thrumming, thundering music like a pulse, like the club itself was alive with the blood of money and alcohol pumping through it, pounded from speakers and shook the walls in their very foundations. Neon lights like jilted, water-colored sunlight shone from corners along the ceilings, creating shadows like both nightmares and dreams along the walls and the faces of the patrons. The bar was overflowing. Security was chasing their own tails. The place was packed. Everyone who was anyone wanted to get into The Menagerie, because between its four walls and roof, you could be anyone you wanted to be.

It was law in this gilded cage that everyone was to wear a mask, its paint and diamonds and ribbons designed to depict animals. Security wore the full-bodied faces of lions. Bartenders and servers played dress-up with rimmed eye gaps as raccoons. Guests were allowed to pick a mask ranging from creatures that roamed the sky to those that crawled the earth. And the girls - the girls were exotic, majestic things that no one would mistake for anything else. They were tigresses and peacocks, they were arctic foxes and lynxes, any animal that had long since gone missing or extinct in this world of yours. Why go searching for the real thing, when they could come here and find the women?

The Menagerie was not a club. It was a cage, for animals so desperate to get out they had bent the bars in an attempt to escape.

Staring at yourself in the mirror of the dressing room, you gingerly affixed the golden mask to your face so that it would stay spread across your features while you danced and entertained. The hard, fake porcelain covered your forehead and nose, leaving your mouth free for the lips and tongues that would attempt to claim yours as their own. Orange and gold butterfly wings blossomed from the center of the mask, disguising you as the endangered insect everyone else seemed to have forgotten about; the Monarch. Fluttering and beautiful upon the wind, never easy to catch.

That was, unless they flew right into a spider’s web.

To your left, a few of the other girls were perfecting their makeup and adjusting their outfits - what little outfits you all had. Zara, known throughout the club as the Panther, caught your eye in the mirror and flashed you a sharp smile.

“You seem quiet tonight,” she said and ran a stick of gloss over her lips. She examined herself close in her handheld. “Something on your mind?”

A few of the other girls tried to inconspicuously listen in, able to sniff out gossip from miles away. Perhaps in here, you all were a little bit more animal than human, after all.

Forcing yourself to smile gently, you waved a ring-garnished hand in Zara’s direction and turned back to your reflection. You hardly recognized yourself like this, despite seeing this version of you all week long. You hoped you never did recognize it. “Oh, it’s nothing,” you brushed off.

Across the dressing room, Shawna, the Owl, tisked her tongue and hummed from deep in her throat. “You know you’re an awful liar, girl,” she said from where she sat scrolling through her phone. “We all noticed when you came in an hour later than you do. Something happen tonight?”

Well, fuck. Now everyone was waiting for your answer, waiting to see if it was worth listening into or not.

Pursing your lips in an attempt to show that it was no big deal, despite how much your stomach and your heart and your brain screamed that it wasn’t, you shrugged a shoulder and tried to avoid their gazes. “Nothing too big,” you replied and began to absentmindedly twist the ribbon keeping your mask in place. “Just… had a student stay a little later. Her dad lost track of time.”

“It couldn’t be that Alchemax hunk you’ve been telling us about.”

Fuck - you really learned to keep your cards closer to your chest.

Your silence must have been enough for them to connect the pieces, because a few of them tittered and giggled. A newer girl, who was still earning her way up to being on stage, piped up. “Have you ever talked to him?” she asked. “I mean, besides school-related stuff. Find out if he’s attached?”

“Absolutely not,” you forced out and stood to straighten out your costume. Your breasts were barely covered by the flimsy top and your ass hung out of the bottoms, both orange and black and white, like a monarch butterfly’s designs. Gold fishnet stockings lined your legs, leading down to a set of heels that had taken weeks to not tip over in. You were supposed to wear a cape, a gown-like train, but it was stepped on too much for you to bother with it. “He’s not there to cruise teachers, he’s just trying to help his kid through the third grade.”

“More than you could’ve asked from my dad,” Zara puffed.

God, you thought, yours, too. And your mother, while you were at it. They’d never come to meetings and games and plays like Miguel did. Hell, they hardly ever even remembered to pick you up from school on their good days.

Gabriella really had hit the father lottery.

Shawna shrugged her shoulders as she rose from her seat and picked up her own mask. “Even if that’s all he’s there for,” she said, then pulled the owl-designed porcelain over her face and fixed you with a stare through the eye holes, “doesn’t have to hold you back from at least trying.”

Her words rang in your ears as you carried on with your work that evening. They stuck with you as you danced for drooling men and women who oggled at you from behind their masks, as you ran your fingers down arms to chase bigger tips, as you followed a man who paid top dollar for a private dance.

Her words rattled like bells in your head as you mindlessly ground yourself against your customer, allowing yourself to get lost in your own imagination while you willed yourself to work. You shut your eyes behind your mask and let yourself fall into a dangerous little scenario you cooked up just for yourself.

You imagined not your boyfriend, who was out there in the city somewhere playing with his stupid fucking band to a crowd of three, not of any celebrity crush or model, but of Miguel O’Hara. You imagined him beneath you instead of some man whose breath smelled like expensive alcohol. You thought of him, and his hulking frame, and his powerful thighs you had found yourself staring at anytime he entered your line of sight.

Mind running away with this little fantasy of yours, you ground yourself a little harder against the lap beneath you, pushed your chest further against the chest parallel to yours. In your head, Miguel let out a huffy breath and rested those large hands of his on your hips, slowly but surely guiding your movements until you were riding his thigh. You tried to imagine, so intensely and desperately, how such an event would go.

He would gently, but firmly, help move your hips so that your exposed clit rubbed perfectly against the rough fabric of his jeans. You would keen and arch your back into him, hands running over his sinewy shoulders, as he hitched his leg and sent a powerful jolt of pleasure running through you and right to your core.

“You like that, pretty girl?” he would murmur in your ear, lips brushing along the shell before his tongue, warm and soft and pink and wet, licked against your lobe. “Ride, querida. ‘Til I say you’re done, and then I’ll show you how a real man fucks.”

You would grind your hips against his leg, moaning aloud and unabashedly when he tensed his corded muscle so that you’d have something to hump into. His hands, wide and spread, would wander along your bare back, memorizing the skin there like it was his and his alone, and he would dip his head to attach his lips to your nipple. He’d suck the nub into a hardened bud, then kiss and lick and nibble the skin around it until it was marred with love marks that would darken the following morning, and then he’d switch and give the other one the same kind of attention.

“Miguel,” you’d whimper in a certain kind of tone, and suddenly you’d be on the bed, pulled to the edge so that the globes of your ass hung off and when he kneeled he had access to your cunt bared for him.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he would say as he pressed open-mouthed kisses up and up your inner thighs, getting closer to where you needed him most. “All for me and me alone. Isn’t that right, bebe?”

You wouldn’t be able to give him a clear answer at first, not when he would lick a long, wet stripe up the center of your folds and up to your clit. He would expertly find that little bundle of nerves, wrapping his lips around it and fondling with his tongue until you couldn’t do anything but sigh and moan and card your fingers through his dark hair to pull him closer. He would suck on your sweet spot for a while, alternating between licking stripes and adorning it with kisses, before he would slowly drag his long, thick fingers toward your sopping folds.

But he would stop just short.

“Say it,” he would tell you, dark, impenetrable gaze fixated on you from where he kneeled between your legs like a devout believer praying to his one and only love - his goddess. When you would whine and cry from the pausing of his ministrations, he would take his mouth, his wonderful, hot breath, away from your aching cunt. He would cock his head, allowing a bit of hair to fall across his face. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to, chica.”

“Miguel,” you would say again, because, really, that was all you could think of to say. “Miguel, please… need you, please…”

He would pull his fingers from your heat, gaze stony and immovable as a mountain standing tall in the midst of a storm. God, not even that could sway him. “Tell me,” he would demand again, this time in a low baritone that made your cunt clench around nothing because goddammit, even his fucking voice could send you into heat like a damn dog. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to. Now.”

“You,” would come the small, high-pitched answer, tumbling from your lips without another thought that did not involve him. “You, Miguel. Belongs to you. All for you, no one else.” You would babble, desperate to reach your climax before he let you fall back down that incline so, so cruelly, yet so, so deliciously. “Please, Miguel, need you. Need your fingers, anything. Just fuck me, please, handsome, fuck me ‘til I can’t remember my own name.”

He would tilt his head even further, like a predator toying with the prey he’d been chasing after for miles upon miles, before placing a gentle, feather-light kiss upon the inside of your thigh. “That’s my girl,” he would say, then attack your clit with his full, thick lips, plunge two of his fingers into your heat, and begin to fuck you into oblivion.

The sound of his fingers constantly edging in and out of your dripping pussy, so wet you could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs and your ass, would pull the most wonderful and pornographic-sounding moans and whimpers and whines of his name from your throat. Your own slick would coat his digits like honey, so sweet that for a moment he would stop his assault on your divine bundle of nerves and crane his neck to lick up a bit of it from where it dripped down your ass. The flat of his muscle would raise goosebumps along your skin as you cried out for him, one hand gripping his hair and the other buried into the sheets of the bed.

“Miguel,” you would cry and begin to rock your hips to meet the thrusts of his fingers, practically humping his face. He would take it like it was his last meal, returning to his sucking and licking and circling of your clit to send bolt after bolt of pleasure and heaven and everything else in between. “Miguel, Miguel, Miguel…!”

“That’s it,” he would murmur between licks through your soaked folds, feeling as your slick dripped down his wrist. “Say my name, bebe, tell them who’s making you feel this fucking good.”

He would angle his fingers then at just the right angle, his fingertips hitting that perfect, fucking perfect spot deep inside you. Stars would dance in your vision as your mouth would open in a silent scream, unable to get anything out but a tiny wail of heavenly pleasure. You would swear you’d never felt this goddamn good in your life, like you would gladly trade everything in the whole world just to stay here forever. His pace would pick up, aiming for that spot inside of you, and he’d lap at your cunt in a feverish craze, like it was the only thing that would save him from losing his mind.

All too soon, your thighs would begin to tremble and you would feel that beautiful, familiar coil tightening and winding deep within your soul. “Miguel,” you would cry out for the whole world to hear. “Miguel, m’close, I’m so close!”

“Come on, pretty bebe,” he would say between your thighs that would try to wrap around his head in a feeble attempt to pull him closer. “Cum f’me. I want it. All of it.”

His words would send a shockwave of pleasure through you, one that would white out your vision so intensely you would have thought he’d killed you and sent you on your way to the pearly white gates, and you’d have been okay with that. He continued to work you through your orgasm, his pace slowing but never stopping, his mouth pressing hot, wet kisses along your thighs, your hips, your naval.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. Taking it so well, all for me. Look so pretty all laid out like this, like I could just eat you up. Would you like that, hmm? You want me to just devour you ‘til you’re left shaking and crying my name?”

“Miguel. Miguel, Miguel, Miguel…!”

“...My name’s not Miguel.”

Your eyes flashed open, suddenly brought back to the real world, pulled away from your fantasy. Through the holes in your monarch mask, you looked down to find your customer staring up at you with wide eyes and popping a boner put there by your mindless rocking against his hips. Feeling your cheeks flush, you slipped off of him and consciously tugged your outfit lower over your ass.

You pursed your lips, attempting to hide how mortified you were. “...That’s going to be another twenty bucks.”

It wasn’t until around one in the morning when you got home to your little apartment squished in a dilapidated little building wedged between two office towers because the landlord had refused to sell the place when they steamrolled the others ten years ago. The lights were off when you slipped inside, and a little piece of yourself inside wilted.

At once, you threw up a wall and dismissed that sinking feeling. Of course he wasn’t going to wait up for you. He’d had a show tonight, and he had another one tomorrow. He was tired.

Not nearly as fucking tired as you, though.

After wiping off your makeup and pulling off the fake little diamonds stuck on your temples, after changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth, and after pinning a new drawing from one of your students on the fridge despite the fact you knew they’d never see it, you tiptoed back to the cramped little bedroom. You poked your head inside. Ferris, your boyfriend of six months, was spread out across the entire mattress, snoring gently into the fabric of the crumpled sheets.

You swallowed thick. You didn’t want to disturb him. He needed his rest.

You grabbed your phone charger from the wall and your pillow from beneath his arm, then slid on your socks back into the tiny living room. Plopping yourself down on the couch and plugging in your phone, you rolled yourself onto your side and stared at the dark screen. Willing something to happen. Something to come up, someone to reach out.

Because in reality, though you would rather throw yourself off the Brooklyn Bridge than admit it… you had never felt so alone.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #spiderman #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #sony spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv miguel

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batboyblog · 1 month

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Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #9

March 9-15 2024

The IRS launched its direct file pilot program. Tax payers in 12 states, Florida, New Hampshire, Nevada, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Washington, Wyoming, Arizona, Massachusetts, California and New York, can now file their federal income taxes for free on-line directly with the IRS. The IRS plans on taking direct file nation wide for next year's tax season. Tax Day is April 15th so if you're in one of those states you have a month to check it out.

The Department of Education’s Office of Civil Rights opened an investigation into the death of Nex Benedict. the OCR is investigating if Benedict's school district violated his civil rights by failing to protect him from bullying. President Biden expressed support for trans and non-binary youth in the aftermath of the ruling that Benedict's death was a suicide and encouraged people to seek help in crisis

Vice President Kamala Harris became the first sitting Vice-President (or President) to visit an abortion provider. Harris' historic visit was to a Planned Parenthood clinic in St. Paul Minnesota. This is the last stop on the Vice-President's Reproductive Rights Tour that has taken her across the country highlighting the need for reproductive health care.

President Biden announced 3.3 billion dollars worth of infrastructure projects across 40 states designed to reconnect communities divided by transportation infrastructure. Communities often split decades ago by highways build in the 1960s and 70s. These splits very often affect communities of color splitting them off from the wider cities and making daily life far more difficult. These reconnection projects will help remedy decades of economic racism.

The Biden-Harris administration is taking steps to eliminate junk fees for college students. These are hidden fees students pay to get loans or special fees banks charged to students with bank accounts. Also the administration plans to eliminate automatic billing for textbooks and ban schools from pocketing leftover money on student's meal plans.

The Department of Interior announced $120 million in investments to help boost Climate Resilience in Tribal Communities. The money will support 146 projects effecting over 100 tribes. This comes on top of $440 million already spent on tribal climate resilience by the administration so far

The Department of Energy announced $750 million dollars in investment in clean hydrogen power. This will go to 52 projects across 24 states. As part of the administration's climate goals the DoE plans to bring low to zero carbon hydrogen production to 10 million metric tons by 2030, and the cost of hydrogen to $1 per kilogram of hydrogen produced by 2031.

The Department of Energy has offered a 2.3 billion dollar loan to build a lithium processing plant in Nevada. Lithium is the key component in rechargeable batteries used it electric vehicles. Currently 95% of the world's lithium comes from just 4 countries, Australia, Chile, China and Argentina. Only about 1% of the US' lithium needs are met by domestic production. When completed the processing plant in Thacker Pass Nevada will produce enough lithium for 800,000 electric vehicle batteries a year.

The Department of Transportation is making available $1.2 billion in funds to reduce decrease pollution in transportation. Available in all 50 states, DC and Puerto Rico the funds will support projects by transportation authorities to lower their carbon emissions.

The Geothermal Energy Optimization Act was introduced in the US Senate. If passed the act will streamline the permitting process and help expand geothermal projects on public lands. This totally green energy currently accounts for just 0.4% of the US' engird usage but the Department of Energy estimates the potential geothermal energy supply is large enough to power the entire U.S. five times over.

The Justice for Breonna Taylor Act was introduced in the Senate banning No Knock Warrants nationwide

A bill was introduced in the House requiring the US Postal Service to cover the costs of any laid fees on bills the USPS failed to deliver on time

The Senate Confirmed 3 more Biden nominees to be life time federal Judges, Jasmine Yoon the first Asian-America federal judge in Virginia, Sunil Harjani in Illinois, and Melissa DuBose the first LGBTQ and first person of color to serve as a federal judge in Rhode Island. This brings the total number of Biden judges to 185

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #Democrats #politics #US politics #good news #nex benedict #abortion #taxes #climate change #climate action #tribal communities #lithium #electronic cars #trans rights #trans solidarity #judges

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panandinpain0 · 9 months

Note

Could I ask for an Edward Cullen x male reader where the reader is Bella’s best friend (who moved right after her)- He ends up becoming infatuated with him instead, and they just have a happy time??

This is Different...

Twilight timmmmeee- time to reach into the archives of my memories and pull random facts from my ass.

Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy <3

@@@

Requested by: Anon

Edward Cullen x Male!Reader

---

Bella had to kept telling herself to wait just one more week, because then (Y/N) would be there and she could vent to him about how weird this town was.

The two had grown up together in Arizona and were practically inseparable. Their parents did that thing where they were convinced Bella and (Y/N) were going to date and get married and all of that, which just isn't happening. But it made his dad easier to convince when they asked if (Y/N) could move to Forks, Washington with Bella.

(Y/N)'s parents had just gotten a divorce and his dad was moving anyways, and he was old enough that he just wanted to stay with his dad (and little sister that would come to visit every once in a while) until he was an adult.

So after Bella left to Forks, (Y/N) and his dad started packing their bags and started their trip.

Bella could not wait to tell him about the school, the weird but oddly charming students, and the standoffish Cullen family.

Finally the week came to an end and Charlie drove Bella to pick them up from the airport.

(Y/N)'s father, James, had planned to buy a car once they got to the new house, but Charlie had so kindly offered to drive them until he did get one.

At the airport Bella ran up to (Y/N) and he caught her in a hug, laughing at her eagerness.

"Looks like somebody missed me!" (Y/N) squeezed out a laugh, Bella cutting off his air supply with the grip of her hug.

"It's been absolute agony without you here, I have so much to tell you- and warn you about."

"Oh damn, that doesn't sound good," (Y/N) replied as Bella helped pick up one of his bags.

"It's crazy out here." She nodded, and the two shared a look that only childhood friends could share.

"Any cute guys?" they had a hushed conversation to the car, Charlie and James too wrapped up talking about fishing to pay attention.

"I'm sure you'd find them cute," Bella scoffed, throwing a teasing smile over her shoulder as she loaded the trunk.

(Y/N) scoffed back, betrayed at her diss.

"I'm sure you went for the stalker-ish one anyways." With a sly smirk he got into the backseat, closing the door on her denials.

...

(Y/N) had settled in, conveniently living next door to the Swan's house, and drove with Bella in her old truck to school that Monday.

"So, Jessica is into Mike and Angela is with Eric. And Tyler flirts with everybody, but nobody goes out with him?" (Y/N) recapped from the tangent of drama Bella had been giving him.

"Yup, pretty much," Bella confirmed, turning into the school parking lot.

"And all of the Cullen's are super hot- but they're dating each other?" (Y/N) asked, more suspiciously this time.

"Well, they're all adopted, but yes. Except for Edward- but I already told you what happened."

"Yeah the weird smelling thing and the he disappeared just to come back with a different eye color."

"They could just be colored contacts," Bella corrected, still not sure herself.

"Strange... Welp, let's do this," (Y/N) sighed as he got out of the passengers seat of the car.

Bella shrunk into his side, all of the attention on her once again. Last time it was because she was the new girl, but now it's because she had her attractive best friend with her.

"Yo, Bella!" Mike called out, giving (Y/N) a confused glare.

Bella waved back and started walking over, (Y/N) following at her side. Leaning down to whisper in her ear (Y/N) held back a laugh, "You left out the part about Mike's crush on you."

Bella just rolled her eyes as they met up with the group.

"Everybody, (Y/N)- (Y/N), everybody," Bella lazily introduced.

"You just moved here, right?" Angela asked, holding Eric's hand as they lent up against Tyler's van behind them.

"Yes, I did. I grew up with Bella in Arizona and where she goes I go," (Y/N) laughed, nudging Bella in the side jokingly.

That's when he noticed her distracted state. Following her line of sight he realized she was staring at a car full of probably the most attractive people he'd ever seen.

"Who's that?" (Y/N) asked the group, acting clueless to get more information.

"Those are the Cullen's-" Jessica jumped right into the rant about their family.

When she was done she came closer to (Y/N), grabbing hold of his hand as she batted her eyelashes at him. "Let me show you around!"

Shrugging, (Y/N) waved to Bella, who rolled her eyes at Jessica's obvious flirting.

...

"Where'd you find that guy? He's so hot," Jessica gushed to Bella at lunch. (Y/N) hadn't sat down yet so she'd finally gotten a second to ask.

"We grew up together- he wasn't that hot when we first met, trust me," Bella almost snorted, playing with the food on her tray.

"You guys aren't like..." trailing off she wiggled her eyebrows to imply.

"No- god, no," Bella laughed. "He's like my brother."

"Oh, good. Less competition then," Jessica sighed.

"I don't think you'll be having much luck either, Jessica," Angela pointed out, nodding in (Y/N)'s direction.

He was flirting with some guy in the lunch line, the guys face bright red as he laughed at something (Y/N) had said.

Jessica looked heartbroken but Angela and Bella just laughed about it.

When (Y/N) finally joined them Bella raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" (Y/N) shrugged indignantly, opening his milk carton.

"Not even a full day in and you're already jumping on them," Bella teased, popping a grape into her mouth.

"Hey, you told me there wasn't any cute guys here, I just wanted to see what he was like," (Y/N) protested. "I didn't even like him that much. Kind of a dick."

Hearing a sudden and loud snort of laughter, (Y/N) and Bella turned around to see the Cullen's lunch table, Edward hiding his face as he looked towards the windows as his siblings glared at (Y/N). Or maybe they just all had RBF- save for the short girl with the pixie-like hair. She smiled at (Y/N) and waved, so he waved back.

"They're so weird," Jessica whispered as she dug into her lunch.

"How much have you actually talked to them?" (Y/N) questioned, taking a bite of his apple.

Jessica didn't answer for a minute, looking kind of embarrassed. Angela rolled her eyes, answering for her. "Once- and it was Edward rejecting her."

(Y/N) snorted and then apologized, "Sorry. It just seems like you're holding a grudge on people you barely know." He then changed the subject, not wanting to make an enemy out of Jessica.

She really seemed like a good friend, he didn't want to go pushing her buttons, that'd be mean.

...

"Mr. Molina, it's nice to meet you. I'm your new student, (Y/N)."

"Ahh, Mr. (L/N), is it?" (Y/N) nodded. "You can sit in front of Edward Cullen. You're lucky we had an empty seat," he joked, pointing to where he was talking about.

That was when (Y/N) got his good first look at Edward Cullen. His gaze was intense, just like Bella had said, but it was less scary than she described it.

Seemed like a guy worth getting to know.

Walking over to the desk with Bella, (Y/N) held out his hand to Edward. "You're Edward Cullen, right? Mr. Molina told me to sit in front of you, but I've heard stories and wanted to introduce myself." He smiled confidently.

Edward hesitantly took his hand and shook it, (Y/N) not reacting to the hard coldness of his skin.

Or at least he didn't show it- (Y/N) was immediately thrown off but didn't want to put off this attractive guy.

"Like you said, I'm Edward. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." (Y/N) winked and sat in his chair, not looking back at Edward or Bella once.

Bella just rolled her eyes with good nature. She'd seen him do this before, if she'd felt uncomfortable or threatened by someone, (Y/N) would draw the attention to himself. That's what worked about their friendship, he could take the attention that she didn't want.

At the end of class, (Y/N) packed up his things and then helped Bella do the same. He waved to Edward with a "Bye!" and they left.

Out in the parking lot his siblings all waited for him by the car.

"What's up?" Emmett asked, his arm around Rosalie.

Alice squealed, "Oh! It happened, didn't it? I thought it was Bella at first but then I saw him and just knew it would happen!" She jumped up and down and clapped her hands.

"What happened?" Rosalie questioned again, Jasper smirking as he sensed Edward's emotions.

"He fell in love," Alice stage-whispered. She was teasing him, of course, but Edward grumbled all the same.

They all piled into the car but before Edward got in he looked across the lot to see (Y/N) leaning on the truck hood talking to Bella.

He hadn't fallen in love. He couldn't- not with a human.

With Bella it was just an obscene thirst... but this was different.

---

Sorry to cut this short, I wouldn't be opposed to writing more for this! I just think this is a good ending and leaves an open spot for a potential part 2!

Hope you liked it anon!

-Author Max <3

#fanfiction #x reader #fluff #x he/him reader #x male!reader #twilight x reader #twilight masterlist #twilight fanfiction #twilight x male!reader #twilight #twilight x male reader #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x male!reader

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nobrashfestivity · 1 year

Photo

Morris Louis Unfurled paintings (1960-1961)

#morris louis #washington color school #abstract art #set

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todaysdocument · 1 year

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Some handy tips from the War Department’s “You’re Going to Employ Women” pamphlet, April 1, 1943.

Unfortunately, this is not a joke.

Record Group 407: Records of the Adjutant General's Office

Series: Central Decimal Correspondence Files

File Unit: 291.9 Status of Women 1-1-42 THRU 12-31-45

Transcription:

(a pamphlet with single staple on left side, off-white paper)

You're Going to Employ Women

WAR DEPARTMENT

WASHINGTON, D. C.

(In pencil along right side) WGCS 17, 291.9, (4-1-43)

[page 2]

(left page black and white photo) woman filing a piece of metal

_______________careful...

(right facing page)

(title) When Training Women

ORIENT her more thoroughly than a man on health and safety rules, plant layout and production, company policies, job techniques.

Give her a preliminary training course to get the feel of work.

Relate her job training to past experience, usually domestic--interpret machinery operation in terms of household and kitchen appliances.

Arrange for continuous upgrading and train her for higher grade jobs.

Use community training facilities when necessary--trade schools, vocational classes in colleges and universities.

[page 3]

(Left side same woman)

_____________and conscientious...

(Right side)

(title) When Working Woman

LIMIT her hours to 8 a day and 48 a week.

Schedule short morning and afternoon rest intervals on arduous jobs.

Have diet-balanced luncheons available--and extra food on exhausting jobs.

Provide ample clean toilets and rest rooms--good plant ventilation free of dust, fumes and drafts--work seats and benches at proper height--clean orderly surroundings--safety devices on machinery.

Insist on proper work clothing, safe shoes.

Promote adequate local housing and transportation.

And…

[page 4]

(Left side of page)

(title)

Use a Trained Personnel Woman

She can counsel with management on training, job simplification and all general employment policies.

She understands women-worker needs.

She can give sympathetic attention to home problems.

She can be told personal difficulties that would not be confided to a man.

She can arrange for child care.

(right facing page)

-Women are pliant--adaptable.

-Women are dexterous--finger nimble.

-Women are accurate--precision workers.

-Women are good at repetitive tasks.

-Women are fine color and material observants.

Women CAN BE TRAINED TO DO ALMOST ANY JOB YOU'VE GOT.

#archivesgov #April 1 #1943 #1940s #WWII #World War II #women's history #labor history #captain america chair dot gif

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mimi-0007 · 15 days

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𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗔 𝗝𝗨𝗟𝗜𝗔 𝗛𝗔𝗬𝗪𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗥 (1858-1964)

Anna Julia Haywood Cooper was a writer, teacher, and activist who championed education for African Americans and women. Born into bôndage in 1858 in Raleigh, North Carolina, she was the daughter of an enslaved woman, Hannah Stanley, and her owner, George Washington Haywood.

In 1867, two years after the end of the Civil Wàr, Anna began her formal education at Saint Augustine’s Normal School and Collegiate Institute, a coeducational facility built for former slàves. There she received the equivalent of a high school education.

Anna Haywood married George A.G. Cooper, a teacher of theology at Saint Augustine’s, in 1877. When her husband died in 1879, Cooper decided to pursue a college degree. She attended Oberlin College in Ohio on a tuition scholarship, earning a BA in 1884 and a Masters in Mathematics in 1887. After graduation Cooper worked at Wilberforce University and Saint Augustine’s before moving to Washington, D.C. to teach at Washington Colored High School. She met another teacher, Mary Church (Terrell), who, along with Cooper, boarded at the home of Alexander Crummell, a prominent clergyman, intellectual, and proponent of African American emigration to Liberia.

Cooper published her first book, A Voice from the South by a Black Woman of the South, in 1892. In addition to calling for equal education for women, A Voice from the South advanced Cooper’s assertion that educated African American women were necessary for uplifting the entire black race. The book of essays gained national attention, and Cooper began lecturing across the country on topics such as education, civil rights, and the status of black women. In 1902, Cooper began a controversial stint as principal of M Street High School (formerly Washington Colored High). The white Washington, D.C. school board disagreed with her educational approach for black students, which focused on college preparation, and she resigned in 1906.

In addition to working to advance African American educational opportunities, Cooper also established and co-founded several organizations to promote black civil rights causes. She helped found the Colored Women’s League in 1892, and she joined the executive committee of the first Pan-African Conference in 1900. Since the Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA) and the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) did not accept African American members, she created “colored” branches to provide support for young black migrants moving from the South into Washington, D.C.

Cooper resumed graduate study in 1911 at Columbia University in New York City, New York. After the death of her brother in 1915, however, she postponed pursuing her doctorate in order to raise his five grandchildren. She returned to school in 1924 when she enrolled at the University of Paris in France. In 1925, at the age of 67, Cooper became the fourth African American woman to obtain a Doctorate of Philosophy.

In 1930, Cooper retired from teaching to assume the presidency of Frelinghuysen University, a school for black adults. She served as the school’s registrar after it was reorganized into the Frelinghuysen Group of Schools for Colored People. Cooper remained in that position until the school closed in the 1950s.

Anna Julia Cooper dièd in 1964 in Washington, D.C. at the age of 105.

#anna cooper #black tumblr #black history #black literature #black community #black excellence #civil rights #black history is american history #black girl magic #blackexcellence365

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contemplatingoutlander · 5 months

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Why are U.S. courts afraid of the 14th Amendment? Because it’s radical.

"The 14th Amendment has once again proven too bold for the judges empowered to interpret it. Political forces are at play again, this time fearful of a backlash if Trump is removed from the ballot. As this case makes its way through the appellate process and, most likely, to the Supreme Court, it should be understood in the context of how the timidity and unwillingness of judges to acquiesce to the judgment of the 14th Amendment’s framers effectively derailed our democracy’s promise after Reconstruction and until the mid-20th century. We must ensure that it does not do the same in the 21st."

--Sherrilyn Ifill, visiting professor, Harvard Law School

This is an important article about why the 14th Amendment was written and why judges are afraid to use it to ban Trump from running for office. Consequently, this is a gift🎁link so people can read the entire article even if they don't subscribe to The Washington Post.

Below are some excerpts.

Judge Sarah B. Wallace’s decision that Trump engaged in insurrection but is nevertheless qualified to run for office is emblematic of the often outright resistance courts have shown to the 14th Amendment’s guarantees and protections. This instance applies to Section 3, which bars any participant in a rebellion against the government of the United States from holding public office. But almost from its inception, all the amendment’s radical provisions have inspired fear and timidity in jurists of every stripe. I use the word “radical” deliberately. The 14th Amendment was conceived of and pushed by the “Radical Republicans” in Congress after the Civil War. They were so named because of their commitment to eradicating slavery and its vestiges from American political life. A number had been abolitionists, and all had seen the threat that white supremacist ideology and the spirit of insurrection posed to the survival of the United States as a republic. Although the South had been soundly defeated on the battlefield, the belief among most Southerners that insurrection was a worthy and noble cause, and that Black people — even if no longer enslaved — were meant to be subjugated to the demands of Whites, was still firmly held. The 14th Amendment was meant to protect Black people against that belief, and the nation against insurrection, which was understood to constitute an ongoing threat to the future of our country. Frederick Douglass, the formerly enslaved abolitionist who rose to become one of the most prominent voices of the Reconstruction period, had no illusions about the persistence of the “malignant spirit” of the “traitors.” He predicted that it would be passed “from sire to son.” It “will not die out in a year,” he foretold, “it will not die out in an age.” [color emphasis added]

I encourage you to read the full article, which goes into detail about how the US judicial system has been afraid to actually adhere to both the spirit and letter of the 14th Amendment, and in so doing has done a major disservice to Black Americans for well over a century, and to our nation as a whole.

#14th amendment #section 3 #us judicial system #insurrectionists barred from holding political office #trump #racism #sherrilyn ifill #the new york times #gift link

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istandonsnowpiles · 10 months

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3007

#van ness #architecture #false color #590nm #dc #infrared #whittle school #washington #june #around dc #my work #photography

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kiiwiigii · 8 months

Text

The Red-Eyed Boy pt. ii

Pt. One | Three | Outtake

Alec x Swan!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Alec was going smoothly, until Victoria's army comes for your sister.

Warnings:

Mild language

I'm a sucker for angst

Word Count: 1,798

A/N: Part 1 was originally just supposed to be a oneshot, but here I am. Enjoy! Pssst @rosedpetal and @badass-daisy-22 your wish is my command. ;)

He was laying on his bed, dressed more casually than I had ever seen him, in a simple white t-shirt and pajama bottoms, a book in hand. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the book was on ancient Greek myths, something that I was quite interested in and even planned to study in college.

His dark chocolate colored hair was splayed out across his pillow and I itched to touch it. Well, I really itched to touch all of him, but that was neither here nor there. I had a weird obsession with his hair. And his face. In particular his eyes and especially his lips. I grinned to myself, content just to watch with my being so far away.

Visions like this were rare, few and far in between.

I supposed it was kind of creepy, but in my defense I didn't really have control of these visions, especially since they happened while I was sleeping.

I could already feel the nudge of wakefulness pulling at me. I tried my best to burrow down deeper into sleep, but resistance was futile, and I found myself opening my eyes to see the ceiling of my bedroom back home in Forks, Washington.

I rolled over with a deep sigh. I would give anything to be in Volterra with Alec. Sadly I had a little bit longer to wait. Reaching for my phone I checked my messages and grinned to see a text from him.

'Missing you.'

Alec wasn't one for talking on the phone, he preferred to text, and almost always left me a good morning message to wake up to. Most days it was the highlight of my day.

I pressed the call button and he picked up before the second ring even made a sound.

"Good morning, tesoro."

"Good morning, love." I smiled, burrowing deeper into my covers.

I really just needed to hear his voice this morning.

"Y/N?"

It was Bella, her arm wrapped around my shoulders.

"Hey, sis." I gave her a hug, resting my forehead against her.

"Everything's gonna be ok."

"I know." I sighed. "Let's just get today over with. Grab that diploma and skedaddle."

Bella would definitely have to repeat high school at some point and I counted my lucky stars that I was not in her shoes in that regard. Or any other regard. My sister was a fucking danger magnet and the whole Victoria shit was just a big red neon sign that proved it.

There was a knock at the door and Bella opened it to see Alice. The vampire was bouncing on the tips of her toes already, and the gleam in her eyes scared me. Maybe if I let Bella go first then I could make my escape-

"I'd take Y/N first. She's planning on making a run for it."

Edward you twat. Where did you come from??

Edward just shot me a crooked grin as I glared at him from over my shoulder, Alice already dragging me up the stairs. With a sigh I sat on my bed like a good girl and let Alice do her thing. Thankfully I had already done my makeup, and Alice was content to give me some red lipstick for a pop of color.

"Alec will like it, promise." She gave me a wink and I swear I turned at least fifty shades of red.

"He's not even supposed to be here today. Do you know something I don't?" I eyed her skeptically, but the little bit of hope I was feeling was obvious.

She smiled at me sadly. "Sorry, Y/N. But speaking of lover-boy."

Alice turned to her bag and brought out a small ornate box, handing it to me with all the care in the world. From Alec?

I let my fingers curl around the box, admiring the designs carved into the dark colored wood. It was old, which was quite obvious, and while I had an inkling that it was a piece of jewelry, I was in no way prepared for when I opened the box. It was a small ruby pendant, about the size of my pinky nail, dangling from a golden chain. It had with a rough rectangular cut that rounded out a little at the bottom. I was immediately mesmerized, stroking the pendant in wonder.

It reminded me not just of blood, but of something else that I couldn't quite remember. It was then that I saw the note wedged into the top of the box. I unfolded it with shaking hands, overwhelmed and giddy.

For my Persephone. Congratulations. -A

My mouth popped open. Oh. Oh this boy was clever.

The ruby wasn't supposed to be blood, it was supposed to be a pomegranate seed. Like one of the seeds that Hades offered to Persephone. In the end, eating the pomegranate seeds forced her to return to the underworld to live half the year there with Hades. It was my favorite Greek myth, and I couldn't help but draw parallels between her story and my own. They were rather crooked parallels, but I wasn't too bothered by that.

I could feel the tears start to well up. I don't think I've ever received a gift that was so thoughtful.

"Oh hun. No. No." Alice was there beside me in a heartbeat, wiping the tears before they could fall.

"They're happy tears, Alice." I said with a small smile.

Well, not completely happy, I wished he was here of course. But I would be seeing him soon enough.

"I know. We don't wanna ruin your makeup. Let me help you put it on and we'll take a good portrait to send him, yeah?"

"Thanks, Alice. You're the best ever."

I only wished I had realized just how soon we would be seeing each other.

'I am in so much trouble.'

My anxiety, paired with the adrenaline rush, was practically so high I was pretty sure it was orbiting the moon. Jasper was by my side, doing his best to soothe not just me, but poor little Bree Tanner.

"How bad is it gonna be, Alice?" I whispered to her, wringing my hands together and bouncing on the tips of my toes. "How much trouble am I in?"

"Relax." She soothed.

"So pretty fucking bad. Do I have time to run?"

I was this close to hyperventilating.

I wasn't even supposed to be here. Bella almost had my head when she saw me on the back Jacob's wolf form, poised and ready to help. With what I wasn’t entirely sure in that moment. I had come up with the harebrained scheme to help muddle Bella's scent with my own by switching the matching jackets we had received for Christmas years ago. Emmet had made the comment a while ago that our scents were pretty similar, so I just kind of ran with the idea. It had worked so well that even Edward hadn't seemed to notice when Bella had slipped on my jacket instead of her own. It had helped split the army at least. Having two humans with similar scents had sent them all mixed signals, so it had kind of worked.

Or so I was telling myself.

So here I was, exactly in a place where I wasn't supposed to be, and the Volturi would be arriving any minute. More specifically Alec and the other elite guards from what Alice had said. None of whom I've had the pleasure of meeting yet. Including his sister. This was like… meeting your significant other's family for the first time.

Well, this was gonna be one hell of a hello.

"They're coming." Alice's panicked voice did nothing to calm me down.

Jasper put a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to help. "Try to relax, Y/N. It's not you he's going to angry with."

I simply nodded and fiddled with my necklace, the ruby seed feeling cold and smooth beneath my fingers. That helped a little as they appeared from the fog, and I found myself catching my breath when I saw Alec's silhouette emerge. He removed his hood and nearly froze when he caught sight of me. I gave him a small smile and a wave.

He let out a snarl that almost sent me hiding behind Jasper.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

"Y/N is safe." Carlisle soothed. "We never would have let anything happen to her."

"This is the second time your coven has dragged her into something dangerous." He hissed, voice low and deadly.

'Well, if we're gonna get technical about it Alec, we never would have met had it not been for that first time.'

Edward shot me a look.

What? It's not like I had said it out loud.

Wringing my hands, I stepped forward slightly before finally gathering the courage to approach him. He met me half way, gathering me into his arms. I let out a deep sigh of contentment as I buried my face in his jacket.

"I know you're angry." I whispered. "But I couldn't let something happen to Bella. They weren't even aware of what I was doing until it was too late. I'm sorry. For scaring you."

Alec said nothing for a long minute and I could feel the tension practically eating me alive.

"Alec." The red-eyed girl spoke, watching and taking us in.

Jane. His sister.

He simply nodded and left me standing there before returning to his position by her side. My heart dropped. He hadn't even bothered to say anything. I turned swiftly, blinking back tears. While I was sorry for scaring him, I refused to be sorry for my actions. Bella was my sister, and I would do what I could to help her. I stood a little behind Alice, staring at nothing and trying my best to turn off my emotions.

Jane spoke again. "Impressive. I have never seen a coven escape an assault of this magnitude intact."

"We were lucky." Carlisle answered.

"I doubt that."

I couldn't help the way my eyebrows shot up. Then I had to remind myself that this was Jane, and she had always proved exceptionally brutal in my visions. And this was no different, although it was Felix who did the dirty work this time. Bree was gone.

I didn't even blink at the end of it. I simply stood there, like a zombie when they finally disappeared. And Alec hadn't even said a word. The dam holding back the flood of tears finally broke.

'There goes my red-eyed boy.'

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#alec volturi #alec volturi x reader #twilight #volturi #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction

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