creammenghilangkanbekasjerawat

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One TwentySix

Eddie climbs into the beemer, looking as hang dog as Steve has ever seen him, “what’s wrong?”

Eddie fiddles with his sweater cuffs, plucking at them with his finger nails, frowning, “we...speak English?”

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s what the language is called, English.”

“And...many more? Languages? Lots and lots, right?”

“Yeah baby, that’s right, what’s wrong?” Steve grows increasingly more alarmed, Eddie actually looks like he might cry.

“I have to learn more? Learn all?”

“Oh! Oh no, not if you don’t want to. You could learn another one one day, but only if you want to.”

“Sure? Do you promise?”

“Yeah. Yes, baby, I promise. Just this one.”

Eddie sags in his seat, whole body crumpling with relief. Steve can’t help but laugh, but he does give Eddie’s hand a comforting squeeze.

Eddie gets into the beemer holding one massive fucking sunflower. Like, the head of the thing is just. Huge.

“Too big. Too different,” Eddie elaborates, “can’t sell it.”

“Well, that’s okay, it’ll fit in perfect on the coffee table,” Eddie nods affably at Steve’s suggestion.

“Stevie?” Steve hums to show he’s listening, checking his mirrors as he pulls out of the car parking space. “Should we go to church?”

“Church?”

“Mrs. Vanderbilt,” Eddie sounds the name carefully, “say she’s worried about my immortal soul.”

“Does she now. And who is Mrs. Vanderbilt?”

“She makes flower arrangements for church. Stevie? What’s an immortal soul?”

Steve snorts a laugh, “well. Uhm. So there’s...some people believe that there’s God, and heaven and hell and stuff like that. And there’s loads of religions, like with languages, lots of places have different ones and...God is kind of like...do you remember El explaining about Santa at Christmas?”

“Yes. He has a beard and reindeer and choose if you’re good, then gifts. Not real though, fun for kids believe.”

“Yeah. Yeah God is like that, but for grown-ups. And instead of gifts you get into heaven when you die.” Steve sees Eddie’s face crinkle up in his peripheral vision, “actually, you know what, I bet there’s a book about this, library detour?”

Eddie nods, humming agreeably.

The book on religions they find at the library is probably, now, a little below Eddie’s reading level, but it seemed like the best option at the time. When Eddie looks up from it and asks, “think The Upside Down is hell?” Steve sort of regrets the idea of a book.

“No. No I don’t.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Hell's probably more like, fire. And brimstone. And I never once saw a little demon with a pitchfork. Also, and I know this for absolute certain, there’s no way someone as good as you comes from Hell.”

“Oh.”

“I think...it’s up to you want you want to decide baby, you read as much as you like, and you think about it, but I think it’s made up, like a-” Steve hesitates over actually saying 'fairy tale', since he’s talking to a guy who, literally, is like a character from one of those stories, “like something that’s made up," He finishes lamely. "Anyway, forget the book, come up here, I haven’t won the kissing game for a couple of days and I’m feeling lucky.”

Eddie leaves the book, forgotten for a while, and Steve decides the first chance he gets he’s taking that one back.

“Stevie!” Eddie bursts through the door of family video, luckily it’s the middle of the day and the place is dead. He breezes straight past Steve and presents four pink roses to Robin, “from Chrissy,” he tells her, causing a spectacular blush to form on Robins cheeks before she sinks down behind the counter.

Eddie completely ignores her. “Knock knock.”

“Who's there?” Steve asks reflexively.

“Eddie with some flowers,” Eddie says proudly, and then promptly bursts out laughing.

“Uhm...Eddie with some flowers who?”

“What?” Eddie looks confused.

“...what?” Steve asks, feeling as confused as Eddie looks.

Eddie brightens again a second later, “knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” Steve asks again, cautious this time.

“Family Video.”

“Family video...who?”

“Family video not house!” Eddie declares, and then laughs uproariously.

From behind the counter, Robin Whispers, “what is happening?”

“I have...absolutely no idea,” Steve answers, right before Eddie starts again on another nonsensical knock knock joke.

There isn’t much that Eddie does that annoys Steve, to be fair, there’s not really anything. But this. By the time he gets home he’s had enough of Eddie’s one man comedy act. “Joyce,” he hisses down the phone desperately, “you don’t understand how shit they are; they don’t even mean anything.”

She has the audacity to laugh at him, “I remember the boys going through that phase. They both did it when they were...four? Maybe Jon was five.”

“How long does it last???”

“Oh, I don’t know, few months maybe, off and on?”

Steve, very gently, bangs his forehead against the wall.

Eddie’s holding a bunch of something pink and only, maybe, a tiny bit wilted. He’s bright eyed as he gets into the car, “Stevie, Chrissy say at me about a new thing. We can try?”

“Sure, baby, what is it?” Steve has the car in reverse, checking his mirrors as he pulls out of the spot.

“Blowjobs.”

Steve’s really pleased with how well he just...doesn’t react to that. Because, truthfully, he’s thought about it. He has. Really. But...well. Eddie’s teeth are sharp. And it’s not that Steve thinks Eddie would ever, ever hurt him on purpose, but that doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t have some, potentially, unresolved toe loss related trauma. And then there’s Eddie’s dick, and how...wriggly it is. How the end opens up and the...well. Just the whole thing, really.

“Stevie?”

“Why...are you and Chrissy talking about blowjobs?”

Eddie shrugs, “Chrissy not really like them, she ask if I liked them. I say I not try them. She said…” Eddie frowns, thinking, “she said, ‘you never get a blowjob?’ and got...angry sad? At Stevie?”

“Oh, she thought I was getting blowjobs but never giving you blowjobs?” Steve can, vaguely, feel his eye starting to twitch. He also can’t help but be fucking irritated with Chrissy, not only is it not her business, but he also can’t really be annoyed with her because...really if that’s what she was worried about, she is only sticking up for Eddie. He’s so naive, there’s no way Chrissy hasn’t picked up on just how innocent Eddie is, so Steve can't really blame her for thinking that anyone could take advantage of Eddie.

Even if it is fucking annoying.

“Yes, but I tell her no blow jobs at all. But we can try now, right?”

“Right. Right. Yeah. Sure. Uh hu.”

Eddie nods, “when we get home.”

“Right,” Steve says, with far more confidence than he feels.

“Stevie? Why not tell about blowjobs before?”

Steve hums, “just kind of...was saving it for a special occasion?” He tries desperately, he can’t look at Eddie as he speaks, keeping his eyes on the road, “didn’t want to go through all the good stuff too fast, you know?”

“Oh okay.”

Eddie limpets himself to Steve the second they’re over the threshold, demanding kisses, his fingers already exploring around Steve’s jeans button, “hang on hang on, couch or bed?”

“Couch,” Eddie answers easily, still kissing Steve as they walk awkwardly though the house. Steve sits, letting Eddie kneel between his legs, fumbling with his zipper.

And, the thing is, Steve really, genuinely believed he could do this. He trusts Eddie, he does. He loves Eddie, really, but he’s not even half hard when Eddie gets him out. And like Eddie...is, he tends to just go for things. Steve catches sight of the teeth and just...can’t. His hands are in Eddie’s way and he’s tucking himself away again before he can really think about it, “could we, maybe, leave this until...later?”

Eddie pouts, “want to try.”

“I just, I don’t want to do this right now, okay?” And the guilt Steve feels is a live thing. He remembers so clearly when he’d been frightened of Eddie’s dick, and how upset Eddie had been. That same fear raises it’s ugly head.

“But why? Chrissy tell me boys really like it-”

“I mean, I do. Kind of. But I just think we could...not do this.”

“But Chrissy say-”

“Jesus Christ Eddie.” Steve snaps, getting angry now. He’s not going to be prodded into doing something he just doesn’t want to do. Especially not by Chrissy Cunningham. “Since you’ve been working with her it’s been Chrissy this and Chrissy that, can’t you just, leave it? For once?” Steve gets up, needing to be away from this conversation.

“But why?”

“Because I just don’t want to, okay? Why don’t you go and ask Chrissy since she knows everything,” Steve snaps again, he knows he’s snapping, and it’s just making him angrier at himself for reacting this way, but he can’t seem to stop himself, defensiveness fueled by the guilt eating at him.

“Maybe,” Eddie says, hands on hips, frowning from the doorway.

“Go then. Go ask her what I should do about it.”

Eddie’s frown is nuclear now as he faces Steve across the kitchen, he tries to speak, half formed words at first, Eddie clearly struggling as he gets upset, “you think? You think?? You promise forever! Stee scared of Eddidie more! Eddidie different! Stee tell away!”

“You are though, you are different!” Steve knows he's wrong the second he says it. He knows Eddie well enough that saying that in anger is a cheap shot, and unforgivable low blow.

Eddie’s mouth pops open, shocked and affronted. He goes to speak but just...doesn’t. He turns and leaves...Steve hears the front door go.

“For fucks sake,” he sighs to himself, angry and upset with himself, the fight goes out of him as he’s swamped by guilt. Steve makes himself move to follow Eddie out. He opens the door just in time to watch Eddie pull the beemer out of the driveway, “oh fuck.”

“There’s pretty much only one place he would go, I think.” Steve tells Hopper, “so I’m pretty sure he will be there.”

Hopper hums from the drivers seat, “and what exactly did you two fight about?”

“I...well. I think this is one of those times where you don’t ask unless you’re really sure you want to know.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, there it is,” Steve breathes a massive sigh of relief, the beemer is parked near the florist. Tight to the curb too, a good parking job, and there’s not a single mark on her. The florists however, is shut for the day.

Steve bangs on the door, peering through the glass. It’s dark inside, but there’s some light shining through that little door in the back. Steve knocks on the glass again, and eventually Chrissy appears. She unlocks the door, immediately telling Steve, “he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Kid, can I go?” Hopper calls from where he’s half tucked the truck out of the way.

“Yeah,” Steve waves him off, turning back to Chrissy, “I need to apologize to him. Please.”

She scowls and makes a vague humphing noise at him, “fine,” Steve slips awkwardly through the gap Chrissy allows him, and once in she locks the door behind him. Steve follows her into the shop, “Eddie, I’m putting some stuff in the car out back, you come get me if you need me, okay?”

Steve comes around the doorway to see Eddie nodding sadly, he���s sitting in what must be their tiny break room. There’s two chairs and a beat up Formica top table, a little electric kettle on top of a under counter refrigerator. Eddie’s got a scrunched up wad of tissues in his hand where he’s clearly been crying.

“Hi Eddie,” Eddie fiddles with his tissues and keeps his eyes on his knees, not looking at Steve, so he pulls up the other chair, “I’m really sorry.” Eddie nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“I just,” Steve sighs, rubbing at his face roughly, “I did get scared okay? But I shouldn’t have...I should have just explained, I shouldn’t have shouted.”

Eddie nods, shredding the tissue, “I sorry too.”

“It’s...not you're fault. Not really. I just...Eddie, your teeth are really sharp you know, and my dick is...my dick. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose, okay, I know that but…”

“Chri-” Eddie bites it back, and stops speaking again.

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that too. It’s good you have a friend okay? It’s good she’s...teaching you things I haven’t thought of. It’s…you can talk about Chrissy, it’s fine.”

“Chrissy say...no people should do anything they don’t want to. Especially with sex stuff...so Eddie a bit wrong,” he sniffles, “but she help me dig hole anyway.”

“What hole?”

“For your body. Dead soon, but that...kind of funny joke?”

Eddie says it in a way that means he did not find it funny at all, and Steve snorts a laugh, “yeah. Yeah, she’s a good friend.”

They sit in silence for another minute before Steve offers, “you did a really good job of parking the car...do you want to drive me home?”

“Yeah,” Eddie stands, and so does Steve, and then they both move in for a hug at the same time, Eddie desperately throwing his arms around Steve's shoulders and holding him as tight as he can.

Steve swears to himself he’s going to do better with this stuff, and lets himself nose at Eddie’s ear, his skin tickled by Eddie’s new curls.

Eddie answers the phone, “Harrington residence,” he says carefully.

Steve watches him frown for a second, before he says, “yes, wait please,” and then offers the phone to Steve, “doctors.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Steve takes the phone, confirming his address and date of birth, before the lady tells him his test results are ready to pick up.

He hangs up, and Eddie’s there, offering him a pen, “that your birthday?”

“I- yeah. Yeah it was.”

Eddie nods, “should be on calendar before, Stevie,” Eddie admonishes gently.

“Okay, I’ll do it now, and then we can go get my results, okay?”

Eddie nods, “no more condoms,” he says solemnly.

Steve snorts a startled laugh.

There’s a frantic banging on the front door, then the bell rings. The bell rings again before Steve can even clamber up off the couch. It’s Eddie and Chrissy, and they hustle into the house before Steve even has the door all the way open.

Steve’s already alarmed, he isn’t due to pick Eddie up for another hour at least, and Chrissy wouldn’t just close the store unless it was an emergency.

“What happened?”

“There was a man,” Chrissy explains a little breathless, “Eddie hid behind the counter the second he saw him, and I’m sure he didn’t see Eddie, I’m sure. But he was asking questions. If a young man worked at the store, weird things about Starcourt. I just kept telling him no Steve but- he’s definitely looking for Eddie.”

Steve feels a mounting sense of dread as she speaks, “Eddie, did you know him?”

Eddie nods, looking frightened, “Starcourt. When I was in tank.”

“Tank?” Chrissy pulls a face, “what tank?”

“Uhm,” Steve suddenly realizes that Chrissy maybe shouldn’t be here for this part, Steve definitely needs to call Hopper, “Chrissy, thank you, but maybe you should go-”

“Absolutely not. Not if Eddie’s in trouble-”

“Okay, but the thing is-”

“Steve.” Chrissy huffs, “I know, okay?”

“You know...what?”

“I don’t know!” She flails a little, “I don’t know what I don’t know! But I do know that Eddie had never heard of the moon landing! He didn’t know that the guy on the five dollars is Abraham Lincoln! He didn’t know that other languages exist and he certainly can’t speak anything other than English even though, according to you,” she pokes Steve in the chest, “he should be able to speak Finnish! And he can’t!”

She’s getting worked up now, and Steve finds himself taking a step back, his hands up in defeat. For a tiny cheerleader, Chrissy’s kind of scary.

“He can find one bug in a delivery of a hundred stems Steve! And do you know how, he told me he can hear them! Hear them! I’ve watched him trim anything from daises to roses to full on sunflowers with his thumbnails Steve! He can cut baler twine with them. And don’t get me started on the florist wire, do you know what he does with that? He just straight up fucking bites through it!” Chrissy gets louder and pinker the longer she rants.

“He came to work with a mashed potato sandwich, like that's normal!! His tears are fucking brown! Brown! Those fingernails, that’s not polish, they’ve never been chipped, not once, they just grow that way, right? And I might be a blonde cheerleader but I am not stupid. So no. Okay, no. I don’t know what Eddie is. But I do know he’s my godamn best friend and if he’s in trouble, I want to help, okay?”

She’s all bright eyed and kind of breathless, and just a little terrifying. Eddie’s got his hands up in front of himself, nervously pulling at the threads of his cuffs, eyes big and worried as they slide back and forth between Steve and Chrissy.

Steve sighs, “okay. Okay. We can explain, but I just...I need to make a call first.”

Part TwentyEight

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

DP X DC AU Danny & The Little Dead Girl

(title pending lol, Danny and Curare adventures pt 2!) Pt 1 here My AU art

__________________________________________

Monday comes, as it is won't to do, and Danny has to go to school which means the baby halfa has to come to school too.

" ok, so, one rule for today, big rule, you gotta be quiet in class. Uh-"

Danny pulls his phone out of his pocket as their bus hits a pot hole. Sitting right at the front means they catch the momentum first and he has to hold Curaré against his side lest she go flying into the aisle.

A couple voices grumble behind them at the jostling as Danny gets his text to speech open.

" Necessitas ser quieto en clase. ¿Entiendes?" The Google robot lady voice translates for him.

Curaré blinks at him from behind her little paper face mask and looks from the phone to him curiously.

This is the game they've been playing since last night, Danny says something in English robo lady repeats it in Spanish.

Danny doesn't know if Curaré understands how the phone speaks or even that it does but she's giving him her favorite little blank expression so he assumes she gets it. At least, she hasn't really disagreed or disobeyed anything he's asked of her yet so...not gonna look that gift horse in the mouth Danny boy!

..

School goes well, mostly.

They get through the metal detectors and bag checks at the front entrance just fine. The security guards barely glance at Curaré once they confirm she isn't hiding a Glock or something under her shirt. Which it's kinda sad to know gun control is a cross-dimensional American problem but it's on brand if nothing else Danny thinks.

They get to first period without stopping at Danny's locker and settle down in two desks by the back door. This is Danny's usual spot, well usual as of a month ago, it's mostly empty back here now but Danny used to have a seat partner.

(A seat partner who had a kind of shady tweaker vibe that Danny would have been worried about but that kid went home early one day and never came back so....it's Curaré's seat now.)

The little dead girl looks even littler sat in the desk-chair combo, she can barely see over the top. Danny stacks three dictionaries under her for a boost then he gets her set up with some pencils and paper and the single highlighter he found on the floor his first day here.

Curaré seems vaguely interested in his offerings ,after Danny shows her how to use them to mark the page, and starts creating cautious marks of her own.

She keeps glancing back up at Danny as if to confirm that this is still fine? And he nods his head every time trying to be encouraging as it becomes obvious that nobody taught this kid to write inside Fosters Home for Real life Assassins. Which Danny thinks is poor planning on there part because really? If your Assassin can't write how the fuck were they supposed to leave ominous threatening warnings? Or fake suicide notes? Or any number of written props to flesh out a cover story.

Whatever, obviously the assassins raising Curaré sucked ass all around so he can't say he's surprised but he is majorly disappointed.

As the bell rings for first period a whole slew of teens rush in ahead of the teacher Mr. Berk. Simple guy, grey beard, coke bottle glasses, smells like Vics vapor rub, the works.

He's like the most chilled out version of Mr. Lancer ever so he's alright in Danny's books. Plus he only has one "rule", as long as your butt is in your seat by the time he calls your name for attendance he won't mark you late. In Gotham, where everyone and their brother has enough late marks from shitty public transportion to get detention, it's a pretty sweet rule.

So Mr. Berk takes attendance like usual and only pauses on Danny and Curaré in the back for a brief moment.

Curaré stops drawing and stares down Mr. Berk like he's the T rex from Jurassic park. Frozen in place and without breaking eye contact. He stares back at her completely unphased.

" A small visitor then?" He says.

Danny nods. " My sister"

" Mhm" Mr. Berk says already moving on to the next student on his roster.

Danny breathes out huge sigh of relief, that was so much easier then he expected.

They more or less repeat this exchange the whole day. Mondays suck ass because it's one of the only days Danny actually has all 6 periods, but they make it through 1st, 2nd, and nutrition unscathed.

By lunch time Danny thinks they might actually be home free, if no one is gonna bring up the whole freaking child tagging along with him then he can probably just bring her with him everyday.

Maybe he can find her some work books and she can learn the alphabet? And addition? That's like on track for 4 year olds right? Danny can't remember being 4 but that feels right to him. He will educate the child in his care like the responsible almost adult he is. She will go to college!

At lunch Danny sits them at the back of the school right next to the teachers lounge because it's mostly deserted.

In Danny's exprience the best place to hide is in plain sight. He's been sitting here everyday since he enrolled himself and the teachers have never noticed him. Their way too busy trying to get any kind of break from teaching high schoolers to be concerned.Which Danny is greatful for because he has broken the rule about using his cell phone at lunch 50 times at this point.

Listen he has to do universe research when he has access to wifi! Which he only does at school. The administration should be glad he's using his lunch period to educate himself really.

So they eat by the lounge. Danny has Curaré face away from the door so she can take off her face mask and eat unencumbered.The cut on her face is still gnarly, it looks an almost enflamed purple as it tries it's best to heal.

Danny had given Curaré a little immuno-boost with his own ecto the night before to try to speed up her healing factor. But like any Halfa, basically just Danny's personal experience, you have to nourish the ghost half and the human half in equal parts to heal all the way.

It's not until home room, period 6/7, that the metaphorical straw breaks the metaphorical camels back. or the real straw to the metaphorical camel? Did camels even carry straw? where would it go? Between there humps? Not important Fenton!

Home room was a grade A disaster.

Mr. Perez, Danny's kind of ancient home room teacher, who was for almost all intents and purposes blind, had a freaking nose for trouble. It's like he could sniff out vapes and cell phones as soon as they hit the stale class air. Danny thought this would be the easiest class by far, Mr. Perez wouldn't even see Curaré let alone smell her.

And at first it seems like he doesnt, Mr. Perez takes attendance and skips right over Danny and Curaré with no fanfare.

Danny thinks that's the end of it and starts to breathe easy until 15 minutes before the final bell when Mr. Perez' TA asks him to step into the hallway with her for a second.

Danny generally liked Mr. Perez's TA, her name was Sabrina Kahn and she was the kind of girl Jazz would have hung out with.Straight laced, wore argyle cardigans, read books, the smart sort. She looked Jazz's age too, maybe 21ish and she always rolled her eyes when people gave dumb answers in class.

She looks a little embarrassed to be speaking to Danny which immediately sets him on edge.

" It's okay that you brought your little sister today but, I'm sorry, you won't be able to do that again. A bunch of your teachers made complaints with the front office and Mr. Perez got a call about it ..."

Sabrina had always been nice to him and now she was about to ruin his whole week.

" But Ms. Kahn-" Danny started.

She gave him a sympathetic look " Lemme guess, your parents can't take her to work so this was the next best option?"

Danny closed his mouth and nodded, that was actually a much better lie then he was gonna tell, thank you Ms. Kahn. ( But also Boooooo curse you Ms. Kahn!)

" Here, I know it can be hard to find childcare for metas, especially ones as ah-vibrant as your sister. My brother had the same trouble with my nephew."

Sabrina hands Danny a flyer, it's still warm from the printer, it looks like it's just a screenshot of an email.

"Thanks?"

The TA rolls her eyes, wow a lot like Jazz then.

" It's the address to that daycare and a referral. They only take kids by word of mouth, they're kind of... off the books. But their good people! I hope they can help you Danny."

The paper is on off yellow, as Ms.Kahn heads back into homeroom Danny feels all his hope go with her. Shit, what was he gonna do now? He looks through the little glass window in the door to the back where Curaré sits, she's already watching him. He tries to smile at her, be reassuring, he's not sure it works.

......

When the bell finally rings Danny picks Curaré up and puts her on his hip to avoid her being crushed by the rush of high schoolers who stampede out the door in front of them.

The flyer from Ms. Kahn feels like it's burning a hole through his pocket as they ride the bus towards the Narrows.

Danny cased the house from the flyer with maps street view as well as he could. It showed a skinny sublet house across from a small strip mall and laundrymat.

Inconspicuous sure, maybe even innocent looking but well...you could never tell in Gotham, all the buildings looked sort of evil by default. It was probably because of the gargoyles and the general low level stink fog that seemed to always be out.

The big city™ really made Danny miss the suburbs of Amity Park more then just the regular gut wrenching home sickness. Oh what'd he'd give to take a deep breath of air and not inhale the smell of piss when he walked down the street.

They get off the bus at the corner a block from the daycare.

Danny holds Curaré's hand which makes for slow going but seems like the right thing to do. She's never wandered off but Danny didn't want to give her the opportunity to either.

As he helped her climb the three short stairs up to the house Danny was suddenly hit with a wave of panic.

What the fuck am I doing? Am I really gonna take care of this freaking Halfa ghost baby for the next 18 years? Im not even an adult! I work weekends at BatBurger for minimum wage WTF?

Danny's hands began to sweat and his stomach cramped. Oh fuck, here was the existential crisis he'd been waiting for since he first decided to take Curaré from the leagues super secret baby basement.

Oh shit he couldn't breathe, what was he gonna do! OH fuck think!

What would jazz do? Call child services and offer psychological support. Not Uber helpful in this case Danny didn't know the first thing about psychology and Gotham CPS was actual prison.

What would Sam do? Assassin babies are hella counter culture but maybe find a cool rich eccentric family to adopt them? Nope, not gonna work Danny only knew one eccentric rich girl and she was a whole dimension away. FUCK THINK FENTON!

What would Tucker do? In this situation ask Google, homeschooling is big these days so maybe if you leave her in the apartment while your gone with an iPad-

" Hey you alright there dude, can I help you?"

Danny choked on the end of his anxiety panic badbadbad spiral and looked up.

The front door to the house was open and just inside the threshold stood a younger teen, maybe 16? With the kind of fade haircut Tucker always whined he couldn't pull off and a bright yellow hoodie.

Danny held his breathe for a moment making sure he felt it burn up his lungs and throat before letting out a big sigh.

" Yeah, yeah sorry kinda zoned out there I'm just uh kinda nervous I was told to come here for Daycare help for my little sister?"

Curaré looked at the stranger in the doorway with the same wide eyed blankness she stared at everything with. Funnily enough she was still holding Danny's hand, had held on through Danny's entire mental meltdown too despite the ecto sweat. Danny felt oddly touched by the gesture, even if it was more likely that the little girl wasn't bothered by his crisis then her being sympathetic.

The teen in the Yellow Hoodie raised an eyebrow at Danny as he fumbled the paper from Ms. Kahn out of his pocket to hand over.

Yellow Hoodie took it and looked between it, him, and Curaré.

" You're not a cop right? You have to tell us if you're a cop"

Danny made a face, " no, I'm not a cop! I would never be a cop, cops suck."

" Right." Yellow Hoodie said still suspicious " So you wouldn't mind if I called your referral up?"

" Be my guest dude."

The teen pulled out his phone and made sure to keep steady eye contact with Danny. Who could do nothing except not look away during this, the world's most impromptu staring contest, until Yellow Hoodie put his phone away.

" Just wanted to see if you were bluffing. Sabrina called earlier said she'd sent someone our way but you can never be too careful. Come on in. "

Danny felt the wind go out of his sails for the second time that day, what was with people and making him anticipate the worst.

.....

The inside of the house was old, homey, but old. It had very obviously been well lived in by a few generations of children, easy to see from the scuffed floors, chipped crown molding, and the sheer number of framed photos that hung on the walls.

There were signs of new life about too, some toys scattered on the floor, walls that were covered in butcher paper and crayon as high as little hands could reach, and oddly enough some scorch marks. Although, Danny's supposed that an unlicensed daycare for meta kids worth it's salt ought to have a least a few burn marks. For posterity if nothing else.

" I'm Duke, I volunteer here when I can but the place is run by the Mariscos, Mrs. Marisco specifically. She's been in the game for a long time" Duke nee yellow hoodie said as he stopped them in front of a closed door.

The hand made sign on the door said Office in nice scribbly lettering and it was hung on with a peg and twine. Real kitschy.

Danny could just make out the sounds of kids playing in another part of the house and was a little impressed that Duke had managed to keep Danny from seeing even one tiny tot during the impromptu house tour.

" I gotta go help Izzy with the kids, this is Mrs.Mariscos' office just knock before you go in, she might be on the phone."

Duke nodded to Danny, smiled down at Curaré and disappeared down the hallway.

Leaving Danny and Curaré alone in front of a closed door once again.

Danny looked down at Curaré and she looked up at him, she was characteristically silent.

" This feels like a job interview, did you bring your resume? "

Curaré blinked.

" Yeah, me neither. But I think if we both give her puppy eyes maybe our combined under aged-ness will activate her maternal instincts and she'll be forced to accept us?"

The nerves were back, they had never really left but now they had settled like a rock at the pit of Danny's stomach.

He couldn't bring himself to knock on that office door just yet so he fussed over Curaré instead. Kneeling down he straightened the collar of Curaré's hooded jacket and moveed her little backpack strap back up her shoulder where it had slipped.

" We got this. It's you and me now remember, even if this blows and you have to come to school with me for the rest of year it's you and me." Danny rested his hands on little shoulders and hung his head. " Jeez, I sound like my mom"

"No need to be so nervous Mijo! My Chiqis never met a kid she could turn away."

Danny's neck had never snapped up so fast in his life.

Curaré hadn't been looking up at him at all. No, Curaré was staring up towards the elderly woman floating near the ceiling.

Which was not great, because Danny for all the time had spent in Gotham had never seen another ghost. Not a single one.

Which was unsettling on its own but not bad per se, he'd thought maybe this dimension was just different, not enough spectral energy to manifest a ghostly body.

But no, again nope, this was so much worse.

No ghosts was easy enough to reationalize but one ghost? One ghost meant there was enough spectral energy, one ghost meant something was really really wrong with Gotham.

Because if there was only one ghost in a crime ridden pissed off city like this where the shit were all the others?

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

Yo! Just wanted to say thank u for all the support on part 1, did not expect people to like or care about it lol. Anyway back on bullshit, I've had this written for a while but didn't have the insp to post it until now.

Might write more, might not, you get one bat cameo for reading this time ur welcome.

Forgot to add this to the first post, it's in the reblogs, but TLDR Curaré is an assassin from batman beyond.

Note: if you wanna see cool art for this AU check the Danny and the little dead girl tag on my blog!

[munsonsmixtapes]

hii i’m such a fan of your work would you please do a proffesor eddie x reader smut? but eddie is a teacher that teaches 1 grade higher than the grade reader is learning in thank you !! (+aftercare please 😽💗 )

Hi, lovely! Thank you so much!

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (both f and m receiving), fingering, anal, age gap (Eddie is 35 and reader is 20) student/teacher dynamic

You stand outside Professor Munson’s office as you wait for him to answer the door. This isn't your first tutoring session with him but you're more than excited to see him. Maybe it's because you find him attractive, but it's mostly because ever since that one very vivid dream you had about him bending you over his desk, you haven't been able to think straight.

You were really looking forward to his class in the beginning because you had always admired him as a professor. He had been so highly praised throughout the university and you had actually been a huge fan of all the articles he'd written and you were even embarrassed to admit that you had a signed copy of his book in your desk drawer.

Professor Munson's class, English Literature of the 20th century, was usually for juniors and seniors who needed a little kick or maybe some extra credit, but you had convinced your advisor to help you get into his summer class to give you an extra boost, and somehow, it had worked. But you had been struggling to keep up, the work load piling up on you.

So you weren't surprised when the professor himself offered to tutor you on the weekends, and because you were eager to get your grade up and spend a few extra hours every week with him, you agreed. It was a win-win in your eyes.

You unbutton the top three buttons of your cardigan as you wait, making sure that your cleavage is fully visible before pulling your lip gloss and compact mirror from your backpack, quickly applying an extra layer so they're prepped if you ended up doing things other than studying.

You toss your things into your bag as the door opens and you put on a grin as you take the man in. His outfits are always so casual and you like that about him. He's always dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Sometimes his leather jacket will make an appearance, but you know that's only when he rides his motorcycle. Seeing the thing draped over the back of his chair told you that he had ridden it this morning.

You try not to stare for too long as you enter the office, him closing the door behind you as you sit in the chair across from his desk, pulling your things out of your backpack that you've set on the floor in front of you.

This isn't how it's supposed to go. If you had it your way, you would have been sat on the desk with him between your legs as he kisses you stupid, the grown out stubble of his beard scraping against your chin as he licked into your mouth-

"Y/n?" He asks, pulling you out of your dirty fantasy and you shake your head, looking up to see that he's right in front of you. "Are you alright?" He asks as his hand hesitantly rests on your shoulder, his warm, brown eyes boring into yours.

Eddie's worried about you, trying to come off like a concerned teacher, but if he's being honest, he's attracted to you. He knows he shouldn't be, but he can't help but think about how pretty you are.

You're his student and he knows that he could get fired if it was found out that anything happened between the two of you, but goddamn does he want to lay you over his desk and have his way with you.

"I'm fine, Mr.-I mean, Eddie," you correct yourself as you remember that he likes his students to call him by his first name. And to you, it just seems right. God, what you would give to moan his name over and over as his fat cock pounded into you.

"Are you sure?" He asks as his hand slowly reaches up and caresses your jaw, rubbing his thumb along it back and forth. You hum as you lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as you wonder what his fingers would feel like between your legs. That is why you wore skirt, isn’t it?

But then you realize what you’re doing and your eyes open wide, sitting up straighter in the chair. Trying your best to wipe your dirty thoughts from your mind even though you’re already wet beyond believe and it’s getting harder to hide.

So you cross your legs and Eddie backs off, leaning against the desk to create some distance between the two of you. You have no idea that his mind is all spinning with the most filthy thoughts that are making him dizzy.

He moves to sit behind his desk just so you won’t see the bulge in his pants as his thoughts get even worse as time progresses. And when you get up out of your chair and bend over to grab your books from your backpack, he gets a great view of your panties, thinking about how much he wants to smack your ass while he bends you over the desk, telling you what a good little whore you are as he fucks you from behind, deep and hard, hearing your cries from where your face is pinned to the desk.

He's never felt this way about any of his students, but there's something about you that's different. Mostly because you're so forward about your attraction to him. You have your cleavage on full display for god's sake. That had to mean something.

And seeing your glossed lips smiling at him as you sit back in his chair makes him so glad you can't see his crotch. He can see you crawling under his desk, unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his underwear his belt clinking as it hits the toe of his boots. He can practically feel your pretty lips wrapping around his cock as you take him into his mouth, looking down and seeing your cheeks hallow as you suck him off, giving him the best head of his life right there in his office.

Eddie has to hold back from moaning right there as his fantasy plays out so vividly in his head. He knows it’s wrong because you’re his student, but he can’t help it. You’re beautiful and smart and kind and he wants you more than he can comprehend.

You can feel his gaze on you as you scribble something in your notebook as you wait for him to begin the session and look up at him through your lashes, seeing how he's looking at you like he wants to swallow you whole and you're more than willing to tell him that he do whatever he wants to you.

His eyes are dark and yours are filling with lust. There's no way either you can focus on the session until you get your urges out of your systems and you're perfectly fine with that, what you both had been there for initially no longer on your mind.

Before you can stop yourselves, you're out of your chairs, rounding the desk into you meet on the side. Eddie makes the first move, pulling you into his arms as he presses his lips to yours with so much force, his nose digging into your cheek as he breathes heavily.

Your lips moves together in sync as you grab fistfuls of his shirt, his hands traveling down your body and up your skirt, giving your ass a squeeze, causing you gasp into his mouth. He takes your mouth opening as an invitation to slide his tongue into your mouth as he turns you around, lifting you up to sit on the edge of desk.

You spread your legs and he stands between them as he kisses his way down your neck, one of his hands pinned to the desk while his other one slides into your underwear, moving back and forth along your slit.

“Fuck,” he whines. “If I had known you were this wet I would have done this a long time ago.” He begins to suck on your neck as his fingers find his way into your cunt pumping in and out and all that can be heard in his quiet office are the noises coming from your mouth and the squelching of your sopping wet pussy as his fingers fuck you.

“Oh my god,” you moan, your palms pressing against the desk, slowly sliding backwards, pushing the objects that are in their way backwards, falling off the edge, but neither of you seem to care.

Eddie’s soft lips suck on your neck as fingers work your pussy, pulling moan after moan from you, your eyes shutting tight as you let him scandalize you, sucking in a breath as his teeth glide along your skin, his fingers curving as you clench around them, already reaching your orgasm. Eddie pulls away just in time to see you scream his name and he’s getting even more hard at the sound of it, the whole thing sounding even better than he had imagined.

“That’s right,” he says, his voice raspy. “Just like that, pretty girl. Look so pretty when you come for me.”

His fingers continue to pump in and out, in and out as he tries to get you to come again. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and he’s feeling cocky that he can make you feel so much just from his fingers.

You come one more time and he removes his fingers out of you as he lets you come down from your orgasm, liking all of the traces of your slick, moaning at how absolutely delicious you taste, closing his eyes as he savors the flavor of you.

His eyes open once he’s done and he sees you now laying on his desk, splayed out for him like an all you can eat buffet and he’s starving. Before he can stop himself, he’s on his knees, pulling you forward so his head is underneath your skirt. His teeth find the waistband of your panties and he pulls them down to your thighs before finishing the job with his hand.

He then balls them in his fist before he rises to his feet. You watch him lean over you, bringing his hand up to your chin, pushing your mouth open.

“Open wide,” he says, his voice nothing but authoritative and you can’t help but feel more wet as he tells you what to do in a non classroom setting.

You open your mouth and watch him stuff it with you underwear, pushing it so far inside that you’re gagging on it already.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Gotta keep that pretty mouth shut, hm? Jesus, hon, you’re already drooling,” he wipes the spit away from your chin with the pad of his thumb.

His lips move down to your neck again, migrating towards your chest as his finger pulling at your cardigan, another gasp falling from your lips as it's ripped open, multiple buttons flying across the room.

"Hope you didn't have too much attachment to that," he says as his lips ghost over the top of one of your tits.

You shake your head even though he can't see you, his head moving lower as he licks and suck on on your bare skin, your hands gripping onto each side of the desk for dear life.

He kisses the spot between your belly button and the waist band of your skirt before unzipping the side, sliding it down your legs until it falls to the floor, spreading your legs to get a good look at your cunt.

"God, so needy for me, hm?" He chuckles as he gets down on his knees once again. "You're dripping, but don't worry, daddy's gonna clean you up."

You nod eagerly, wanting, needing his face between your thighs. It's only right that he cleans up the mess he's created. Your legs are draped over his shoulder and he dives in, notice how you twitch when his nose brushes your cunt.

His mouth is on your clit in an instant suckling on it like he's getting paid to do so, his tongue moving back and forth slowly as your hands thread through his hair, giving it a yank as your muffled moans fill the room.

"That's right," he pulls away from you just enough to where you can hear him speak. "Moan like the little whore I know you are." And then his face is back into your cunt, his mouth on your slit, all teeth and tongue and lips as his teeth slide along the skin harshly, his fingers digging into your thighs that are tightening around his head as you moan again and again, your heels digging into his back as yours arches off of the desk, pulling onto his hair with so much force that it flies back, his mouth no longer on you.

"Take is easy. hon," he chuckles, removing your hands from his hair before he's at it again. They grasp onto the desk, your nails digging into the wood, surely making claw marks, but you're sure that he doesn't care, definitely wanting to have a physical reminder to remind him of what's happening when you leave.

His pushing his tongue inside you and it fucks your cunt hard and fast, an orgasm rolling through you as he does so, the loudest moan you can muster with your panties in your mouth flies out of it and Eddie keeps it up, picking up his pace as his tongue reaches just the right spot as you're practically crying.

And that's when he removes himself from you, rising from his feet, letting you come down from your high as pulls your underwear from your mouth and tosses it to the side, watching your reaction as he unbuckles his belt, the only sound that can be heard is it hitting the floor as he removes his jeans and underwear, his massive cock coming into view, the thing already leaking with cum.

"Tun over," he commands and you do so, hopping off the desk then leaning over the front of it, wiggling your bare ass in a teasing manner. Eddie is behind you in a flash, pressing his hard cock against your ass before rubbing his cum over it to lube it up. He then pushes down onto the desk, pressing your face into it, making sure your face stays there before he pounds into you, you moans sounding heavenly as you respond to his every move.

Your hands are gripping the edge of the desk again as his fingers are digging into your hips so roughly as he fucks into from behind you, fitting as much of his cock as you can take as you beg and beg for more. The whole thing is filthy. It's absolutely delicious.

"That's it. Just like that. Take me like the whore I know you are." He sinks further inside and you clench around him, your eyes watering as he does so, but there's not way you're making him stop.

"Daddy please," you whine as his hand collides with one of your ass cheeks as soon as there's a knock on the door.

Eddie pulls out of you in record speed and pulls up his pants before handing you your skirt that you're quick to put on, followed by your cardigan as Eddie's pushing you towards his side of the desk where you crawl under as Eddie pulls up his pants and underwear, not bother to buckle his belt as he sits in his chair, pushing it under the desk as he tells whoever is on the other side that they can come in and smiles once he sees that it's Chelsea, one of his seniors.

She's holding the test the class had just taken the day before and he's assuming that she needs help with it. He's usually very eager to help, but not right now, not when you're unzipping his pants, pulling his cock out of them.

He wants to tell you to stop, but he can't. His need for you to suck him off outweighs his thoughts of how inappropriate it is in general, let alone with another student there.

"What is it that I can do for you, Chelsea?" He asks, trying to keep is voice even as he can as you take him into your mouth.

"Well," the girl replies. "I didn't do very well on the test and I was wondering if there was any way I could fix it." The look on her face is very flirty and her tone is seductive and normally, Eddie would clock it and send her on her way, but he's a little...distracted.

"Sure," he replies, his voice getting squeaky as you give his cock a rough suck, quickly clearing his throat, trying to play off that he's got something stuck in it, even going as far as coughing into his fist to try be convincing. "Let's see," he says as he takes the test from her, setting it down on his desk, twitching as your sucks get more rough, your tongue putting in the work as it swirls around the head.

"I was also wondering if you would be able to do some private sessions with me?" She asks, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger and that's when Eddie catches on.

Eddie's fist slams down on the desk as he's getting close and Chelsea jumps at the sudden aggression coming from her professor.

"Miss Richards," he says, his voice a little too harsh, but he can't back out now. He's gotta full send it now. "I don't know what kind of professor you think I am, but I am certainly not the kind that sleeps with his students."

"But-"

"No," he shakes his head, his eyes squeezing tightly closed as he's trying so hard not to come. "Now out!" he yells as he points to the door and Chelsea takes her test and hurries to the door but not before she trips over something in her path.

She looks down and sure enough, she's standing on what looks a pair of underwear. And suddenly, everything clicks in her brain as she flees the office, especially when she hears his loud moans coming from the other side of the door after she's closed it. Oh, she's so spreading around that Professor Munson definitely fucks his students.

[boozenboze]

Can you do task force 141 boys with a medic male reader who is like Shinobu from demon slayer

Mr. Butterfly

Tf 141 x Shinobu!Male Reader

Females She/Her and She/They

A butterfly.Thats how you’d describe the h/c haired male.The beautiful design on the males jacket made him stick out.Hues of minty green and pink with a butterfly pattern.To top it off the male was a medic, a great one at that.He created toxins to stun and even kill enemies.Non-lethal and lethal depending on how he was feeling.

These things led the male to where he was now.Being brought to a new base that he was unfamiliar of.The male had a smile on his face as the driver looked at him for a second before blushing.The e/c eyed male chuckled before saying.

“It’s rude to stare you know.”M/n pointed out with his gaze still fixated out the window.The driver chuckled nervously,sweat dripping from hid forehead.He was lucky enough that the male hadn’t made eye contact with him,if he did he would just die right then and there.Now approaching the gates, the sight of a few soilders came into the e/c eyed males view.Now that the car was parked,the male in the haori stepped out of the car and took in his surroundings.There were many people along with buildings surrounding the area.

“Excuse me, Insect was it?”A soilder asked him as the male looked towards where the voice came from.

“Yes that is my name.I suppose your meant to be showing me around yes?”M/n spoke cheerfully as the soilder nodded in response.

“Yes sir um-follow me!”The soilder chirped in attempts of matching the shorter males energy.A few minutes went by and M/n was now inside one of the buildings,being led to the main part where his new team would be.When they got there M/n was greeted with 4 new faces.M/n suspected the man with the beard was the leader, and he was correct.

“I’m guessing your our new member hm?”Price spoke as M/n smiled.

“Guilty as charged sir, M/n L/n, it’s nice to finally meet you.”The h/c haired male said as Price chuckled at the shorter males tone.He seemed cheerful and ready to do things.M/n shook the hand of the brown skinned male who smiled at him,seemingly already fond of the s/c skinned male.

“Gaz, you can call me Kyle though if you’d like.”The male now known as Kyle said.M/n smiled at him as he stood there shifting in place.He seemed a little nervous around the new recruit.

“Weel arent ye braw.”Soap said while eying the male up and down as the tallest of them all spoke.

“English MacTavish, he doesn’t know what your saying.”The mask wearing male spoke up, noticing how the h/c haired male tilted his head slightly at the scots words.The mohawk having male sighed before saying.

“Well aren’t you handsome.~The names Soap!”The male said again in english,to which the shorter male chuckled.

“Well hello Soap and you aren’t to bad yourself.”M/n said with a slight blush on his cheeks.He turned around to look at Ghost who was already staring back at him.

“Are you gonna say anything lieutenant or are you just going to look at me.”M/n asked snarkily as Ghost looked away, blushing under his mask.M/n chuckled

“I’ll be taking my leave now,I have to get my office ready anyway.Bye-Bye!”M/n said as the soilder who had showed him around followed right behind him.He left his new team interested, flustered and excited.

A few weeks had passed and M/n was currently sparring one of the other recruits.Those who were watching were in awe of how fluid the males movements were.Without warning the male jumped unusually high into the air and thats when Price,who was standing near the arena widened his eyes in shock.He and the others watched the male kick the recruit several times in the head before pinning him down.

“I win.”M/n said shortly as the recruit admitted their defeat.M/n stepped out of the arena and was greeted with Soap who was asking him several questions.

“How’d you jump so high?!”

“Strong legs I guess.”

“Can you teach me how to do that?!”Soap asked while jumping slightly.He looked like a child in M/n’s eyes.

“Maybe another time, I’ll see you around!”M/n yelled out,now leaving the room.

“Doesn’t he have a katana or something like that.”Gaz asked as Price looked back at him.

“Yeah he does, have you not seen it?”Price questioned the younger male who shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ve seen him walking around with it I’m just unsure on what it looks like.”Gaz said as Price hummed.

“Go ask him, i’m sure he’d let you see it.”Price concluded before taking a drag of his cigar.(He knows M/n will scold him later so he’s trying to get it in)Gaz nodded in response,now speed walking to the males office.He knocked on the door before hearing an audible “come in.”

Gaz opened the door and walked inside, seeing M/n in a chair with the thing he’s been wanting to see.M/n was using a cloth to wipe his katana which already seemed clean.He then grabbed a small bottle that had a skull labeled on it before pouring it inside the scabbard.

“Did you need something Kyle?”M/n asked as the male sat beside him.

“Your katana, why is it shaped like that and what was that liquid?”Kyle questioned as M/n chuckled at the mans curiosity.

“Well my blade is meant to act as a stinger and the liquid you saw was poision.”M/n explained as Gaz’s eyes widened.He was about to ask another question till M/n cut him off.

“I use it on the enemy, it could cause a slow and painful demise for the victim.”M/n said a bit darkly as he continued. “You see I can’t always use long range weapons like others which is why I mainly stick to this.Other than having a possibly quick death i’d like to see them have their last moments in pain and suffering as my poison is the last thing they feel before dying.”M/n further explained as Gaz shifted nervously.He wasn’t used to this side of the h/c haired male,frankly he didn’t want to see it again.

Now moving along in a few trees M/n shot down the enemies who were currently guarding the building.The male made his way inside without drawing any attention.At least thats what he thought.As he rushed down the hallway he noticed an enemy just standing there, not paying attention.The soilder felt a piercing in his back and his eyes widened as he hit the floor.

“Oh my!~You should be paying attention darling!~”M/n spoke as the man pointed his gun at him.The man suddenly began coughing, and he spat up blood.

“Aw...seems that the poisions already kicking in.Oh well~sweet dreams handsome!~”M/n said while walking past the now dying man,snatching his rifle in the process.

“Insect this is Ghost how copy?”

“Im fine lieutenant,over”M/n said in response as shooting came from Ghosts end.M/n didn’t think much of it until a groan came from Ghosts end.

“Ghost you alright.”M/n asked as the man didn’t respond making him worry.He knew the male wasn’t far away since they’d been paired together on the same floor.

Ghost was laying flat on the ground,blood gushing out of his side as he struggled to stay awake.He had heaed M/n calleing for him but was to busy trying to stop the bleeding.He blinked for a moment before seeing something flying towards him.A butterfly a pretty one at that.A few moments passed and he ended up blacking out.

“Hey..........Hey!Are you okay?”A familiar voice said to him and slowly his vision cleared as well.He felt his head being elevated and placed down on something soft.He saw a pair of e/c eyes staring down at him and he noticed that his tacticle gear was off.He wasn’t bleeding anymore either.

“I gave you stitches and dressed your wounds as well.I gave you some medicine so that you can fight off infection as well.”M/n spoke softly as he reached his hand out to place it above the bigger mans gloved one.

“The others should be on their way to get us so we have to wait.”The shorter male continued as Ghost grunted.He turned his head to the side and it just occurred to him that his head was in M/n’s lap.He blushed beneath his mask and shifted in position so that all his weight wasn’t on M/n.

“Ahh...well aren’t you sweet.”M/n said as Ghost huffed.

“Shut yer mouth.”

“Hmm...this is why no one likes you.”

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: You and Bucky attend the neighbor’s party

Warnings: Nothing really this is chill, just wanted to write more of Bucky x Reader. Feeling lazy lately.

Other: English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry for the mistakes.

-> Masterlist

-> Part ten ; part twelve

-> An Evil Twin? (11)

The forced smiles that adorned your face the whole damn night vanished the moment you slipped into Mrs Thompson’s bathroom, waiting for Bucky to join you. Downstairs, the sound of loud music and children’s laughter made your head pound more with each passing moment, due to your sleep deprived state. But you couldn’t blame the kids for your exhaustion; it was your own doing, sleeping for a mere two hours in what felt like an eternity. The lack of sleep made you moody and each time someone spoke to you, even as kindly as someone could be, made you want to turn into the Hulk for a brief moment.

The past few hours had been a whirlwind of stress since returning from Malcom’s house. First, there was the sweep by the twenty trusted undercover SHIELD agents Bucky himself had called. They meticulously searched for hidden cameras or microphones, finding absolutely nothing save for the ones already known to be outside in the garden. Inside, thankfully, the coast was clear much to your relief. At least it was already something.

Then there was an issue that had a name and a last name; Cassandra collapsed the second your eyes met hers back at the psychopath’s house. Since then, she had been playing the Sleeping Beauty and not even Dean’s and Sam’s yelling at each other woke her up. Bucky even tried to wake her up at some point, fearing the worst for a second, but she simply continued to sleep like nothing was happening. It wouldn’t have been such a concern if she weren’t officially a missing person, with the police on the lookout, while you and Bucky played the part of the lovely married couple.

And thinking of Bucky, his knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts, prompting you to cross the room and let him in, quickly securing the door behind him with a twist of key. Just to be safe.

“Why did you gestured for me to come here?” You asked, crossing over to the bathtub and sitting on its edge hoping to rest your sore feet at least a little - those heels Wanda made you bring were an insult to torture.

“I got a call from Steve while you were cozying up to that man downstairs.” He replied, shooting you a pointed look. “Speaking of which, let’s not forget we’re supposed to be a married couple.”

“Just get to the point.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. While Bucky wasn’t entirely wrong, you hadn’t been flirting with Dyaln (the handsome neighbor’s son) as he implied, you were just trying to alleviate the boredom since Bucky disappeared for what felt like ages to go talk to Steve.

“They haven’t heard from Fury since we were sent on this mission. The others have returned already, their cases turned out to be false alarms, and they have been stressing about it ever since. Which is not long, but still.” He explained, taking a seat in front of you on the closed toilet lid.

“And nobody knows where he is? What about Maria?” You pressed, the possibility of Fury being in Hydra’s hands was becoming increasingly real with each passing moment.

“Natasha mentioned Maria’s also gone off the grid. Steve said Nat’s been going crazy about it, but before I told them the news they didn’t think their disappearances were connected to Hydra and to our case.” He said, running a hand over his beard, the gravity of the whole situation weighing on him.

“Of course she’s going crazy about it, they’re supposed to tie the knot in what? Two months?” You muttered, nervously bouncing your leg up and down. “Why didn’t they tell us anything? This feels like a pretty big deal to me.”

Bucky shrugged. “I suppose they figured that handling it themselves and letting us focus on the mission was the better choice.”

You shook your head, silently cursing them all. While it might not have changed anything for you and Bucky, a heads up would have been the least they could do. After all, it was Nick Fury and Maria Hill missing - not exactly a forgettable thing.

“Whatever. At least now we’re all on the same page.” You said, and after taking a deep breath you spoke again. “Should we tell Mr and Mrs Thompson that we’re leaving? I feel like I’m half dead right now.”

“It’s barely been an hour, Emma.” Bucky reminded you. Thought he wouldn’t mind some rest, he forced himself to endure a little longer for the sake of the roles you were playing.

You sighed in defeat, with a nod. “Any update on Cassandra?” You inquired, glancing down at the golden ring adorning your finger worn solely for this facade. But you had to admit, it looked pretty.

“I haven’t heard anything.” Bucky huffed, resting his elbows on his knees. “Sam and Dean are not answering their phone, but the Impala is parked outside so they must be home.”

“They would have called if she woke up.” You reasoned with a small shrug. “Maybe they’re resting or something.”

Bucky looked down at his hands for a moment, before speaking again. “I still think they’re suspicious.” He admitted.

As you were about to rise from your seat on the edge of the bathtub ready - but not really - to go back to the party, you halted mid-motion and sank back down as soon as Bucky spoke. “What do you mean?” You asked, furrowing your brows in confusion.

“It’s just… I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole mess of a situation, and I keep circling back to some unanswered doubts I have.” Bucky replied with a shrug, his gaze briefly meeting yours. “Do you not think they’re hiding something?”

“No.” You replied honestly. “After that time in Mrs Miller’s attic, I felt like we were good. I did have my own suspicions on them before, but now… now I don’t. Why? Do you think they’re connected to Hydra?” You asked, lowering your voice significantly for the last question.

“No, no it’s not that.” Bucky quickly clarified. “It’s actually about you. I have a feeling they know more about you than they’re letting on.”

Intrigued, you raised a brow, though you didn’t share his suspicions. Still, you were open hearing him out. “Care to elaborate?”

“Remember the other day in the car, right after the four of us left Mrs Miller’s house?” Bucky began.

“Yeah?”

“Dean mentioned that it was their father who found you, not Fury. And in that case, Fury had no idea that the facility even existed and had no files about it, right?” He continued.

“I suppose so?”

“You said you never divulged anything about the Wendigo Project to anyone for your own reasonable reasons, right? Not about what happened, to you or anyone else. You also said that the only person they rescued aware of the situation was you, as the higher-ups kept it hidden from the other prisoners, and any other evidence was destroyed when SHIELD agents swooped in to save the day.” Bucky explained, his words deepening your frown.

“What’s your point?”

“My point is: if Fury was in the dark about it all, how did he decide to send Sam and Dean here with us? Natasha and Wanda know about Hydra- they’ve been in there too and they know how they operated. So why you? Is it just a coincidence that you were chosen for this specific mission when you have deeper ties to Sawyer than any of us?”

“There were no records of me, Fury couldn’t have known.” You debated. “I didn’t even have a name before, I was only referred to as ‘kid’.”

“Not to sound like an asshole, but you’re saying that based on what Hydra told you? Because I don’t know if you noticed, but they’re not really honest people.” Bucky raised a brow.

“Fury is.”

“Fury faked his death when I was after him and didn’t tell Natasha.” He remarked.

You shook your head at that. Fury had based the entirety of your healing process on honesty; it wasn’t just about words, he showed you times and times again how of a trustworthy person he was. Back then, when you were still loyal to Hydra, he constantly showed you the reality of what the organization was rather than what you believed - Fury had always pledged to be honest about his own motivations, and you believed him after some time. After all, the evidence was all there.

Yet, despise it, Bucky’s words managed to make you doubt everything once again.

“What does this have to do with Sam and Dean?” You asked, your teeth gritted. You weren’t angry at Bucky; his concerns were valid and his reasoning made sense.

“I don’t believe Fury sent them here without informing them of what you are. I don’t know them well, and I can’t say much but Dean didn’t seem phased by your confession about being half Wendigo. And, I mean, think about it: hunters. They’re hunters, not SHIELD agents. Of course he knew what we were dealing with.” He explained succinctly. “I wanted to share my thoughts with you now that we’re on civil terms.”

He glanced at you, noticing the contemplative expression on your face as you kept your head low, your hair partially obscuring your features. He didn’t really intend to worsen your mood - especially not when it wasn’t that great before. Plus, seeing the hint of a pout forming on your lips didn’t sit well with him.

“Hey.” He said softly, not recognizing himself for a moment, extending a hand to to gently nudge you, coaxing you to meet his gaze. “Listen, I’m not even entirely convinced myself. You know I have a tendency to be paranoid.” He lied. He was entirely convinced of what he said.

And you knew it.

“Let’s just go downstairs.” You signed. “It’ll be suspicious if we stay locked in here together for too long.”

He watched as you rose from your seat, and went to unlock the door. He thought you were just going to leave, but as soon as one foot was out of the door, you turned back to look at him again. With a tilt of your head, you beckoned for him to follow. And, with just a nod, he did.

You both returned to the welcome back party for Dalia, Mr and Mrs Thompson’s daughter, and your forced smiles appeared once more as you mingled with the crowd of happy people. The room was as noisy and full as you had left it, except most of the children were now playing outside.

You felt Bucky’s hand on your waist, gently pulling you closer as you navigated the room. Neither of you were particularly social, each awkward in your own way, making it difficult to determinate who was worse.

“Do you want to dance?” He suddenly asked. You looked at him with a frown, thinking you had heard him wrong - Bucky Barnes asking to dance? Sure, you were playing a role but the dance part was quite unnecessary. “What? It’s a party, and I used to be a good dancer back in the days.” He said after a moment of silence with a shrug.

“Sure, but I might step on your feet.” You said, as he led you into the crowd. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of those parties with drunk people all around. Most of the guests were adults, and most of the couples swaying to the slow song were mainly married.

You couldn’t deny feeling slightly tense as you reached a corner of the living room where you had a clear view of the entire space. Even having a normal conversation with Bucky felt foreign, especially after all the times he had looked at you as if he wanted you dead. Now, being civil with him seemed unimaginable. Yet, there you were.

It wasn’t bad, though, not after finally managing to talk the previous day. You didn’t blame him for not trusting you before, especially not after the reasons he had. Reasons that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Mainly because you couldn’t remember any of the things he mentioned, no matter how hard you tried to squeeze your brain. If Hydra wiped your memories of that, what else might they have erased?

“I can almost hear the gears rolling in your brain.” He said, as you moved your hands on his shoulders and he placed his other hand on your waist again. You found yourself relaxing slightly at that. “What’s on your mind?”

“I was just thinking about yesterday.” You answered, as you began to sway together to the rhythm of the song. “Our conversation.”

“Mh.” He mumbled in response, as he looked down at you. “What about it?”

“Nothing, just…” You sighed, pausing before continuing. “I want you to know, I didn’t - whatever reasons I had for bringing you back to Hydra, it wasn’t willingly as you may think even if it seems that way. I mean, at the time, I must have thought it was the better thing to do for making the world a better place or whatever bullshit they were feeding me.”

“I know, Emma.” He said softly, his voice low to prevent anyone from hearing the conversation. “I do know now. I’ve spent this past year consumed by anger towards you, and I believed that hating you was easier than acknowledging that you didn’t have a choice in what you did - you were a kid, for fuck’s sake. But the thought of you being a part of the team when you were one of the people I had on my black list that I wanted to…” He stopped himself, swallowing back the words before they could escape. “I should have known better, since I was basically in your same situation. Instead I let spite have the best of me.”

“What made you change your mind all of a sudden? We have been on this mission for less than a week. Why now? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You asked, searching his eyes as you both danced slowly to the music, careful not to bump into anyone.

Bucky remained silent for a moment. It’s not like he changed his mind overnight as it may seem, but after that night’s argument you both had a few days ago, he had been thinking non stop about it. “What you said about the different ways we have been brainwashed hit too close to home.” He finally admitted. “You did’t know anything else than what Hydra had told you, how could you ever understand that what you were doing was wrong? I’ve always known your story, I was informed on who you were long before you arrived and still, I couldn’t bring myself to look at you under another light. For a long time you were just someone that ruined my life further.”

You looked away at his words, as guilt took over. “If I could go back-”

“You still wouldn’t have had a choice.” He cut you off, but not as harshly as you were used to. But it was therapy to your hears to hear that.

“Crazy how you finally realized that after so long.” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “But I appreciate it.”

He shook his head with a smile. “Contrary to what you may think, I haven’t looked at another woman in the same way I’ve looked at you this past year.”

You blinked a few times, taken aback. “Is that a love confession? Barnes, for the love of God, we became civil last night - ask me on a date first, at least.” You joked, enjoying the slight blush that crept on his face.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You’re insufferable.” He rolled his eyes at you. “I was just trying to say that I’ve observed you, alright? Ever since Fury made you an Avenger. I thought you were going to betray all of us sooner or later, and I tried to gather all the evidence of that… but all I got was nothing if not the times I caught you in the kitchen after a nightmare.”

“Yeah, nightmares are a part of the Hydra package.” You rolled your eyes before frowning. “How did you know it was that?”

“Our rooms were only two doors apart, and I have an enchanted hearing.” He explained. “I heard you, every night. You know, I’ve met many former Hydra agents during my unnaturally long life, and none of them had any remorse over what they did, let alone having nightmares about it.” Bucky said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You feel guilt, that’s not something you can fake. And even with that, I was stuck on the idea that I couldn’t trust you.”

You remained silent at that, feeling that words were no longer necessary. All this time, he had been blinded by rage, and rightfully so. If you had been in his position - stuck with the person that brought you back to hell after you escaped - you might have done worse. You were just grateful that, somehow, you both finally had this conversation and could put everything behind you. It had taken time, and last night’s talk had happened unexpectedly, but you were happy with were it led.

The song changed to a more upbeat tune, and you and Bucky both silently agreed it wasn’t your style. “Do you want to get some air?” He asked.

“Please.” You replied, gripping Bucky’s arm as you made your way to the front door, feeling the room starting to suffocate you.

He led the way through the crowd, almost stumbling when a couple of kids ran under his legs as they chased each other. You heard him mumbling some curses as you laughed at the sight, earning a playful glare from him that didn’t deter your amusement.

Once outside, the cool night air was a welcome relief. You both leaned against the railing, taking in the calm atmosphere there was. You glanced over at Sam’s and Dean’s house on the other side of the road, noticing a flickering light coming from the downstairs room. But you didn’t think too much of it.

“As soon as this mission ends, I’m going on vacation.” He said out of the blue, as you gazed at the view ahead.

Your turned you head to look at him, a smile playing on your lips. “A vacation? Where to?”

He took a moment to think about it, his eyes narrowing briefly. “Italy.” He decided, nodding to himself. “I want to visit Venice. Maybe even go to Norway, I don’t know yet.”

You made a sound of approval at what he said. “Sounds amazing. I’d suggest Greece, in the summer.“

“Greece? Have you ever been there?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Not for a vacation, no.” You shrugged. “Just for missions, a few times.”

He mumbled, shaking his head. “You should change that. Taking a little break doesn’t seem absurd, you owe it to yourself. Imagine laying in the beach all day just soaking up the sun.”

“I’ve never been at the beach.” You confessed. “But it does sound like a relaxing time. Maybe I will do that if I find someone to go with.”

He stared at you for a second, before shrugging. “I like the beach.”

Before you could respond, a voice interrupted your lazy conversation. “Excuse me, this is Kim Thompson’s house isn’t it? I’m a bit late for the party. Could you help me ring the bell? My hands are full.”

As both you and Bucky turned to see who had spoken, the color drained from your face as soon as you realized. The too-familiar features of Mrs Miller greeted you with a smile. Her expression was kind and relaxed, her voice softer and lighter - the complete opposite of what you remembered. She looked at both of you, waiting for an answer, but you were struck dumb as if you’d seen a ghost.

In a way, you had. The woman you thought was dead stood before you, holding a tray of pastries as if nothing had happened. It was as though she hadn’t been dismembering someone days ago in order to feed a creature made by the most awful organization you’ve ever known - not really an everyday thing. Yet, there she was.

“Uhm… do you not speak my language?” The woman asked politely, noticing your silence.

“Mrs Miller?” Bucky asked, just to make sure.

“Do I know you?”

There was something unsettling about seeing the woman who had been so creepy during your previous encounters now being so polite, especially because since she seemed not to recognize you. “Uh… we met earlier this week when a colleague and I came to ask about Cassandra?” Your words sounded more like a question.

At the girl’s name, the woman visibly stiffened.

“Oh, no. You must have me confused with my sister, Camille.” The woman narrowed her eyes, her smile faltering for a brief moment. “I’m Mrs Wright now, I got married a few years ago and I took my husband’s last name… Miller was my maiden name.” She explained, looking between you and Bucky.

“We thought-”

“I only came back to town yesterday.” She cut him off. Her smile grew forced as she kept taking. “I’m Vanessa, me and Camilla are twins. Would you mind opening the door for me? Kim is an old friend and I haven’t seen her in a while.” She turned to the door, avoiding both yours and Bucky’s eyes.

“Sure… forgive me for the misunderstanding.” You managed to smile as you rang the bell, since you did not have the key.

Several awkward silent seconds passed before someone finally opened the door, greeting Vanessa as she stepped inside rather quickly, her relaxed demeanor completely vanished. You and Bucky were left alone, staring at the closed door in front of you.

“Was that the evil twin or…?” You trailed off, placing your hands on your hips and biting your lower lip.

Bucky ran a hand over his face and slid it behind his neck. “I’m about to lose it. Why did we never think of questioning the victims’ families? Maybe Vanessa knows something about this shit show.”

“We’re not detectives, Bucky, we’re Avengers; that’s why.” You said. “But you’re not wrong. She seemed dismissive as soon as we mentioned Cassandra. Did you see how her expression changed?” You asked, moving closer to Bucky.

Bucky nodded. “We should go in and ask questions.”

“Now?” You raised you eyebrows. It wasn’t really the place nor the time to press a woman about her lost sister and niece. “What do we do, lock her in a room and interrogate her? No, Bucky, we should leave and get her address from Mrs Thompson later.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “You just want to leave, don’t you?”

“… Is it that obvious?”

“Very.” He sighed. “But you’re right. Let’s go get some rest; we deserve it. I’m still sore after digging that hole at the cemetery.”

You eye twitched at his comment, but he started to walk away towards the road, hiding the smirk on his face - he knew how to push your buttons, not that it took much.

“The next time we’re left alone in a cemetery will be at your funeral after I’ve killed you. Mark my words.” You called after him.

He chuckled at that. “You should see a therapist. All this repressed rage isn’t good for your health.” He said as you caught up with him. “You anger too quickly.”

“I already see a therapist.” You scoffed. “I’ve told her about you. In fact, you’re the main topic of our conversations.” That wasn’t a total lie.

“That’s the most romantic thing a woman has ever said to me.” He snarled. “But it goes both ways. My therapist knows your name too.”

“I feel… special?“ You replied as you both crossed the road. “I hope you told your therapist about that one time I knocked you over during sparring and I almost broke your other arm. Bet you cried that day.” You mocked him.

“Shut it, I let you win.” He rolled his eyes, knowing full well you won that round fairly. “I just remembered why I don’t like you.” He shot back with a glare.

“That’s great, it keeps the sparks alive.” You retorted with a smirk, only to gain a groan from him.

* * *

A/N: Hi, I haven’t posted in like two weeks and this chapter kinda sucks but the story will get better I promise. In case you don’t remember, in the last chapter they found Cassandra in the back of a car and they realized that they were being stalked.

[lotsofsq]

For SQ and Curtain!

1. Your first impression of them

10. Describe the character in one sentence

17. What do you think their first word was?

20. A weird headcanon

Hope you’re having a great day!!! <3 :)

YAY MY FAVORITES!!! good questions too!

1: My first impression of them

my first impression of mr curtain was that he was very off putting and a well done opposite to me benedict especially because he is very childish in the way he thinks he’s the smartest ever and everyone should cater to him. like the bookmark scene, he thinks “yeah! why hasn’t anyone made me these before?” but he is still quite scary because he has power to back up his ideas.

my first impression of sq was that he was so funny. honestly he was very comic relief and i just went “he’s just like me fr” whenever he would mess up his words lol.

10: describe the character in one sentence

man child with the morality of a peanut cannot accept his ideas for world domination are not the worlds best option.

nicest guy ever has been put in the worlds worst situation, please save him.

17: what do i think their first word was

mr. curtain grew up in an orphanage, so definitely not mama or dada, i feel like he’s the kind of kid to not say anything, and then suddenly speak full sentences.  his first words would be something like “stop that”

SQ i also think was probably an orphan by the time curtain found him but i also think his parents were probably alive for some of his life, so probably mama or dada.

20: a weird headcanon

i have lots of weird headcanons, lemme see if i can think of ones i haven’t drawn.

i think mr curtain (trans to me) would have changed his name while still living in holland, so the pun would’ve been less obvious and sounded cool, like how english speakers often think Japanese pun names are cool in anime. but then he moved to the US for his evil school and the pun is suddenly much more obvious.

i also think that for him beards are a sensory nightmare which is why he’s clean shaven, but during the perilous journey he probably couldn’t shave and he was just miserable.

i think sq really enjoys horror movies and sorta gruesome fun facts. i also think he’s got a birthmark somewhere with a weird shape, idk what or where but idk that seems typical.

[jungle-angel]

Lost in Literary Madness (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: In which Bob helps teach your English class and shows his inner theater kid

Tagging: @bobfloydsbabe

"Gather round o' children of mine," Bob announced to the group of sixteen and seventeen year olds. "Mrs. Floyd will be in soon for English, we've got a double English period this afternoon."

Everybody in the room pushed their desks together and waited eagerly for your class to enter the room. As soon as everybody had come in, Bob fixed the chalkboard drawing along with his notes while you and your students entered with their copies of The Fellowship Of The Ring. Everybody knew the drill, up on the desks and watch the fireworks.

"Alright my batty bunch," Bob said. "Who can recall where we left off?"

"I think we left off on the part where they're heading for the inn at Bree?" Kelsey Perrault answered hesitantly.

"You might be right, but I think it's a little further than that," Bob told her.

"Wait, Mr. Floyd I've got it marked," Justin Daly said suddenly, raising his hand. "We got to the part where the Fellowship ends up in Rivendell."

"Oh there we go, one of my favorite parts," Bob chirped. "Does anybody remember why Gandalf was late in the first place?"

A few shook their heads.

"What do you think Mrs. Floyd?" Bob asked, turning to find you comfortably perched on his desk. "Shall we have a little refresher?"

"I don't see why not," you answered happily.

You could tell by Bob's little eyebrow wiggle exactly where this was going.

"So," Bob began. "We remember Gandalf's search through the library of Gondor for any records pertaining to the Ring, right? You find a mysterious soul-sucking ring that turns you into a complete crazy person, you're going to want to investigate, right?"

"Right!" responded the students.

"We remember that Gandalf's search led him to a person he'd never suspect in a million years and that was an old wizard by the name of......Mrs. Floyd?"

"Why Saruman The White of Course," you responded, already feeling the intensity beginning to build within your husband.

"EXCELLENT!" Bob declared. "Ten points to Mrs. Floyd and the rest of Ravenclaw."

You snickered a little bit, blushing at your husband's complement.

"So anywho," Bob continued. "Our grey-bearded friend arrives in Isengard where Saruman's tower stands looming over these HUGE TRACTS OF LAND!"

Both you and the students were laughing and snickering at Bob emphasizing "huge tracts of land" in a rather loud voice and making a gesture for the female chest that was a little more than suggestive. You couldn't help it, knowing your students were doing "Spamalot" for their class play.

"He sees this and is probably thinking, 'ok, old friend, I've got it made going into this," Bob continued. "They talk when all of a sudden BAM! Saruman's got Gandalf in a trap!"

The slam of Bob's hand on the desk made everybody jump, including you.

"Way, way up in that tower, Gandalf's imprisoned," Bob told them, the intensity in his voice growing. "Saruman's doing all sorts of terrible things to him, like 'ha ha, I've got you now' and Gandalf's pretty much at his mercy, watching these forests getting chopped down to feed the orc forges."

You laughed, pinching the bridge of your nose. It wasn't every day that your husband got this dramatic or this into storytelling, at least not with your students.

"So Gandalf figures, 'I've got one last trick up my sleeve and it had better friggin work.' So as Saruman's torturing the hell out of him one day, Gandalf realizes his plan to get out of there has worked at las and he declares that 'there can only be one lord of the rings......and he does not share power!"

Now he was really getting into it, his whole body moving, the tone of his voice, his words, his gestures, it was all so theatrical.....and you loved him for it.

"He finally makes it to Rivendell where he's united with Frodo, the hobbits, Strider and the others," Bob continued. "They celebrate a little bit and rest up and catch up with each other......and SHIT!"

You and the students busted out laughing when Bob's heavy owl bookend fell off the desk and clunked to the floor. He calmly picked it up and set it back up on the desk on the end of the row of books as though it had never fallen.

"Class......is......dismissed," Bob informed them when he heard the ringing of the hand bell in the hallway.

The students gathered up their books, bags and anything else they needed for the weekend, leaving you and Bob as the only ones left in the room.

"How'd I do sweetheart?" he asked.

"Very dramatic Mr. Professor," you chuckled before you kissed each other. "I'm very impressed."

"Maybe it'll translate well when I get a chance to work on the book later tonight," Bob remarked.

"Ah still dissecting the influences of Tolkien's works are we?"

Bob wiggled his eyebrows again before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "I may need your help with it," he told you.

"Oh I can help you with alot more than just that," you purred. "Wanna practice making a little um.....something, something when we get home?"

Bob's eyes widened. "Think you're ready Mrs. Floyd?"

"More than I've ever been," you purred again.

And that was a challenge Bob was willing to accept, the two of you hurrying to the truck and racing to get home while the heat blasted and banished the winter cold.

[eikha]

SKETCHBOOKS AND DREAMS. | A.H

CHARACTERS : Artistic Director/CEO!Aaron Hotchner.

RATING : fluff, i guess.

A/N : The mad creativity is striking again. Big thank you to @hoe4hotchner for letting me rant about my ideas. English isn't my first language, so it is possible that there is some grammatical errors along the way. divider is from @cafekitsune, icon is from @ssa-sapphic . No use of Y/N.

summary : Aaron Hotchner knew that it wouldn't be easy to become have his own clothing brand, the world of fashion was cruel, but he wasn't the kind of guy who gave up on his dreams.

Aaron Hotchner had always spent more time drawing on notebooks, busy looking at the curves of a body rather than listening to his teachers. He dreamed of becoming a fashion designer, despite the almost disgusted look of his father who found the bottle of whiskey more interesting than him. Despite the looks, the mockery of his classmates when they saw the drawings, Aaron was sure of one thing: if he gave himself the means, he could become someone important in the world of fashion, he just had to continue to preserve to achieve his dream. Work, again and again, try to find his way in a world that he knew was merciless.

Like a mad artist, Aaron had settled in an old apartment in Paris, he had paid for the first three months and the man with his more than pronounced French accent and his graying beard had watched him almost with suspicion. He had money, at least, enough to pay his rent, eat and pay for his studies. Aaron had sent sketches to a famous French fashion house, he hadn't had much hope and had waited in front of his computer for hours before sighing, they were never going to answer, why did he continue to think otherwise? However, a few hours later, while he was leaning over yet another sketch, he had heard the sound of an email coming into his computer. Aaron had almost jumped and nearly knocked over his cup of coffee, he had opened the email and felt his heart stop beating for a split second.

Mr. Hotchner,

In view of your more than obvious talent, we are offering you an internship in our workshops in Paris. I will have you escorted by a driver tomorrow morning, at nine thirty.

Remember to take your notebooks and your essentials and please be on time.

CHANEL.

He had spent almost two years in the workshops at Chanel where he had learned the rigor necessary to become a couturier worthy of the name. Between two "classes" as his mentor called him, he took the time to settle into a corner with his notebooks as well as his drawing kit that he continued to complete each week Aaron had discovered very interesting art stores even if rather expensive near the Beaux Arts

After two years in the Chanel workshops, he then went as an intern at Louis Vuitton where he had inspected the famous trunks with precision, the know-how of the house was no longer to be proven In all, he had spent exactly five years in Paris where he had attended fashion week with enthusiasm, thanks to "VIP" badges, he had shaken hands with emblematic figures of fashion, he had also rubbed shoulders with the very private circle of the ultra-rich where we chatted around caviar, champagne while wearing a dress that cost two years of average salary

It was when he was thirty that Aaron Hotchner decided to launch his own label, but he was not content to simply be the designer, he had become the leader, he made every decision. ARES had become an iconic brand of American fashion, on a par with Oscar de la Renta or Rick Owens.

He was comfortably seated in his living room, a luxurious apartment in New York with a glass of champagne in his hand. He was dressed of course in his own brand, a two-piece suit. It could almost have been basic but all his art was in the details, the sleeves of the suit were delicately decorated with blue and red snakes. The precious stones sparkled under the light of his living room. ARES was a brand, but it was also the innovative genius of Aaron Hotchner who pushed the boundaries of fashion again and again. The ovations at his shows made the headlines of the world press. Luxurious men's suits, exclusive collaborations with high-end jewelry houses, and a special Halloween capsule collection for children that had made headlines on social media. A subtle blend of elegance with a modern touch, a touch of madness according to some. Everyone wanted to be dressed by Aaron Hotchner.

Aaron continued to drink his glass of champagne while scrolling through ARES's Instagram page. Maybe it was time to start designing the next collection, he might have an idea, crazy but an idea. Why would he deprive himself of sending an email to Disney to see if they wanted to do a collaboration? Aaron knew he could make unique pieces that were on par with some masterpieces, young adults from the jet set would jump on the eight hundred dollar sweatshirts.

[faeriichaii]

Hija de la Luna - Chapter l

A/N: OK so I think I finished my first chapter yay!! It's not proofread yet, maybe I will do it tomorrow and erase any mistakes I might have made :) I really hope that you who reads this will enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it <33

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: my English lmao ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 3k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Gaihith ~ Little Dove ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Halwûna ~ Sweet One ࿐ྂ

The wind feels cold on my skin, as I looked up into the sky. Stars are dancing above, telling stories that are still unknown to most habitants of middle earth. Which one is the one to lead me to my destination? Which one leads towards a happily ever after for the upcoming journey? My eyes are roaming the entirety of the sky, when they settle on a small star that silently twinkles a little bit differently then the rest of its brothers and sisters. A smile forms on my lips, as I pull the hood of my cape lower and take a better grasp of my bag, which holds all of my necessities for the long travel days. I follow the small path of grass and stone, passing various different houses with small round doors.

The houses are built into the hills and are rather tiny in comparison to the ones I normally pass by. Taking a glance up at my destination, I come to an abrupt halt. In front of the door stands a rather short man. The top of his head seems to be bald, however, the sides are filled by his frizzy grey hair. I slowly start to ascend the small stone path that leads to the house and stand behind him. He is not that much shorter than me, only about maybe a couple inches. He turns around and I can see a proud beard adores his face. His bushy eyebrows scrunch together, as he musters me from head to toe. By closer inspection, it was obvious, that he was indeed a Dwarf. “Didn’t think our 15th member would be a lass.” Before I get the chance to say anything, he turns back towards the door and rings the bell.  After a short while of standing outside with the dwarf, whose name I still haven’t learned, a Hobbit opens the door. “Dwalin, at your service.” The dwarf in front of me says, before bowing slightly. The hobbit looks confused for a split second, before turning his attention to me. “Oh uhm- Melody, at your service.” I slightly bow, like Dwalin did mere seconds ago. “Hmm.” The hobbit suddenly tightens his bathrobe, still looking confused and slightly angered. Did we disturb him? “Bilbo Baggins, at yours.” With that, Dwalin enters through the small hole into Bilbos house. Following him, I also step inside.

“Do we know each other?” Bilbo asks us bewildered. “No?” Dwalin hands him his weapons and continues to walk into the home. “I’m sorry for the intrusion Mr. Baggins. Didn’t Gandalf mention anything to you?” At that, Bilbo looks at me like I grew a second head. “Did you say Gandalf?” I nod softly and smile sympathetically at him. It must be very confusing and overwhelming to suddenly have people barge into the comfort of your own home. He shakes his head in order to get rid of his thoughts and puts Dwalins stuff on a small bench by the door. “Well uhm- Do come in. I didn’t expect any visitors, but would you like some tea?” Bilbo asks, as he looked rather appalled at Dwalin who seems to be eating the dinner he had prepared for himself. Sitting down opposite of him, I take off my cloak and lay it down on my lap. “I don’t need anything, thank you.” Nodding to himself, Bilbo sits down beside the dwarf. “Why exactly are you here? Both of you?” “We are a part of- “Before I get to finish my sentence, the doorbell rings again. “That’ll be the door.” Dwalin says, mouth filled with potatoes.

Standing up, Bilbo leaves to let in the next person. “Balin, at your service.” Can be heard softly in the dining room, before Dwalin smiles and stands up to join them both at the door. “Brother! I didn’t expect you to be here so early.” The laughter of the men begins to grow louder, as they approach the long table once more. I muster a friendly smile at the new person who entered through the archway. His hair is as frizzy as Dwalins, however it almost is as white as snow. His beard was long grown and has a slight curl upwards at the ends. “Hello there lass, I expect you are our 15th member? The Oracle?” “Yes, my name is Melody. It is nice to make your acquaintance.” Both of them sit down at the table. “I’m Balin, Dwalins older brother.” He gives him a pat on the shoulder, while they continue to eat away. “So, I heard that you are actually an Oracle? Is that true?” Oracles are very rare to come by. Most of my kind hide their identity due to the fact that we are very sought after. They tend to hide within the realm of the Elves, because the resemblance between us is almost identical. However, the ones that did not have enough time to hide away were killed or imprisoned for the rare gift of future telling we hold. Soon there were only a few left, which lead to the believe that Oracles were creatures, who never even existed to begin with.

“Yes, I am. If you want me to, I can read a part of the future that awaits you.” I say with a smile adorning my face. Normally I would not offer to read the future for other people, considering the various outcomes I have received couple of times. When they are not quite happy about the reading I give them, they tend to blame me for what will happen. Even though I am just the bearer of the things that might happen, not the reason behind it. The prophecies I receive are the ones that are most likely to be the course of the future. Most people still tend to overlook the fact, that the future can still be changed, even after I show or tell them what I see. “I think you will have plenty of opportunities to share your gift with us.” Balin says before taking a big bite out of a bread he and his brother found in the pantry.

The tumult at the door makes me shift my attention towards the hallway again. “Has it been cancelled?” “No one told us.” Two different voices say, as they seem to be talking to Bilbo. “No, nothings been cancelled.” “That’s a relief.” Suddenly two younger dwarves barge into the room. One with blonde hair that is adorned with a few braids and the other with brown unruly locks. Both come to an abrupt halt, when their eyes land on me. “So Gandalf really found an Oracle.” The blonde dwarf observes, while throwing an arm around the shoulder of the other one. “Kili are you alright? You should stop gawking at her as if she’s a wild animal ya know?” At that Kili coughs slightly into his hand to hide his embarrassment. “Well, Fili and Kili. At your service.” They both say, before bowing slightly. “I’m Melody, it’s nice to meet you.” I smile welcomely at both dwarves. “Shove this in the hallway, otherwise we’ll never get everyone in.” Suddenly Balin and Dwalin stand up and grab the table in order to move it to another location. “Should I help you in anyway?” I ask while grabbing my cape, as well as my bag. “Don’t worry Gaihith, we will handle it.” Kili answers, receiving a laugh from his brother. Raising an eyebrow at the foreign word, I walk towards the door to lay my things by the other items on the bench.

The bell rings again as I walk back towards the company. Taking my seat again I see Bilbo walking around frantically. “No. No. There’s nobody home!” He screams outraged, while throwing the stuff in his hands away to all the other baggage at the door. Giggling slightly, I look at the dwarves around me, that begin to make themselves comfortable after bringing out more food. “So, are you really an Oracle?” Kili asks curiously, while taking a seat beside me. “Balin asked me the same question, but yes, yes I am.” “So you can see our future together?” A smirk adorns his stubble adorned lips. Looking into his brown eyes I blush softly at the flirtatious remark. “Unfortunately, I prefer to not look into my own future. Prevents me from missing out on some funny accidents that could happen.” “But you really can tell the future? How?” Fili leans forward to take a better look at me from the seat beside his brother. “There are different methods. Some are very precise and can tell the future up to two weeks in great detail. Others are more vague and can be seen years in advance. The simplest method is reading the tea leaves. That mostly tells the future for a few hours.” Finishing my tea, I look at the leaves. Showing the cup Fili, I point at each leave and what it indicates. “This leave is the amount of people that will stumble through the door in a few seconds.” Filis eyes widen before standing up and walking towards the door, but before he could even reach the threshold, the round green door opens and in fell the rest of the dwarves. Gandalf stands behind them, before crouching down and walking through the door himself.

He waves at me, before turning his attention back to the seizing Hobbit. “How did you know?” Kili looks at me with astonishment. “Hmm could have guessed it through pure luck.” Dwalin grumbles while munching on some cheese. I roll my eyes at his statement, having heard this sentence way too many times in the past. As the rest of the dwarves fill into the room and the pantry, it gets livelier. “Melody I am so happy that you decided to join Thorins company on the quest to Erebor.” I stand up to take Gandalfs hand and greet him properly. “I did take a quick look into both possible futures of mine and I must say, I would be missing out on a wonderous time if I would have chosen not to join.” He smiles brightly before taking the other empty seat beside me. The dwarves begin to sing a song, throwing around plates and cluttery, while Bilbo tries his best to make sure nothing breaks on the way from the cupboard to the long wooden table. Gandalf leans towards me. “Have you already started to look into the future of the company?” I fish out my journal in which I try to keep track of all the results of my variously used methods for future telling. Opening the page I wrote on the last time, I scoot closer towards Gandalf.

“The outcomes vary so incredibly much. I have a rough idea of things that will happen pretty soon but…” I take a deep breath before pulling my long hair over my pointy ears. “I couldn’t extract any information or input on how the adventure will go on. The end of the journey seems grim but also bright. This leads me to believe that there are possible deaths. I know there is a way to prevent this from happening, however I am not entirely sure how. I even used the cauldron with all it’s power, but nothing really detailed was shown. I even looked into the crystal ball but the only thing I saw was that…” The image of the ball on my table yesterday night flashed into my memory again. I was sitting at a chair in front of the small crystal, hovering my hands above it to try and take a peek into the future that awaits me during the journey. The only image that was produced was me hysterically crying on the ground while holding another person. I couldn’t identify the person, still can’t. However, their death seems to have a grave impact on me and apparently also the end of the journey.

“If you want me to try again, I have the ball with me.” “Hmm if you wouldn’t mind, I think it would be best if you test the practicality of the ball on Thorin and look into his future.” Looking around I try searching for him. “It seems like Thorin hasn’t arrived yet.” Gandalf mentions loudly, taking a sip from the small red wine he just received. “Hey Melody, don’t you want to eat something?” Kili suddenly asks me. “Hmm? Oh well what do you have to offer me?” He hums in thought at my answer and looks around the table. “We got almost everything your heart could desire on the table.” Letting my gaze travel across the fully stacked table, I spot some fruits and bread. “I would like some fruits and bread.” “Coming right up Halwûna.” Confusion spreads across my face. Did he just call me another foreign word? Is it dwarvish? Handing the items to me I thank him for his kindness. “What did you just call me?” I ask him after a bit of thinking if I might have heard the word before. “Hmm?” He looks puzzled at me while eating the food he had on his own platter. “Ah.” I take a napkin from beside my plate and hand it to him. “You’ve got some sauce on your cheek.” A soft pink adores his cheeks as he takes the cloth from my hand and wipes away the remnants of the food from his face. “All better?” I smile at him and give him a nod.

A sudden ring disturbs the lively atmosphere, as everyone staggers to their feet. The dwarves form a line at the door in order to greet the last guest. I follow them and take my place right by Bilbos side. Gandalf opens the door and takes a step to the side, in order to make room for the last guest. “Gandalf, I thought you said this place was easy to find.” The atmosphere shifted the moment Thorin steps into the small confinement of the hobbits house. He brings a kind of authority to the group, one can even tell from a far distance that he is made to be a king. “I lost my way around here. Wouldn’t have been able to find the door if it wasn’t for the mark.” “A mark? What mark?” Bilbo frankly looks at his door, however no mark was visible. Thorin takes a look at the hobbit. “You must be our master burglar.” Bilbo is about to protest, however Thorins attention lands on me next. “And you must be the Oracle Gandalf found.” His eyes scrutinize me for a few seconds, before he moves inside properly and lays his stuff neatly on the pile of weapons and bags that were already on the bench beside the door. The rest of the company greets him with kindness while slowly beginning to settle down at the table again.

The kings’ eyes travel across the company, before stopping at me. “Do tell me, are you really able to look into the future?” His eyes examine my attire, brown pants with over knee leather boots for save travel. My off-white blouse hangs loosely over my shoulders and arms while the brown corset clings to my body and keeps the blouse somewhat in place. My long brown hair is mostly kept out of my face by two small braids at either side of my face, which connect at the back of my head again. A few weeks ago, I also cut myself bangs, that now frame my face perfectly.

“Yes, of course I can do so King Thorin. I also apologize for not introducing myself earlier, my name is Melody.” I give him a kind smile before continuing to speak. “I had a talk with Gandalf earlier and we both came to the conclusion to test my gift with you, if you wouldn’t mind that.” His eyes squint at me before mentioning me over. “How exactly do you think this will work?” “I brought my crystal ball for this journey. This gives me the chance to look into the future in great detail, however the ball only can go up to two weeks from now on.” “Very well.” He settles down in a chair. I take the crystal ball out of the bag and place it on the table in front of Thorin. The ball is clear on the inside, so I am able to directly look at Thorin if I would look through the orb. “Please place your hands on each side of the ball, but do not touch it.” Raising an eyebrow at me, his sceptical gaze wanders over to Gandalf. “Are you sure she is an Oracle? I mean it is said that they are just mere fiction.” Biting down on my lip in order to not snap at his rudeness, I place my hands on top of his. “I would rather you see for yourself if I am the real deal or not of instead asking Gandalf for his guidance on this matter.”

His eyebrow raises as he gave me a pointed look, before settling his gaze on the object in front of him. The silence in the room was deafening as every person looks expectantly into the crystal ball. Slowly some fog starts to form inside the orb. The fog begins to vanish in the middle and a picture starts to form. Thorin sat atop his horse, riding at the front of the company. Suddenly he turns around and Bilbo runs towards him and Balin, a letter in his hand. Not any letter no. “He hands you the contract that he had to sign earlier.” “A contract?” Bilbo stares at the picture with scrunched up eyebrows. “I have to sign a contract?” “We will talk about it in great detail later master burglar.” Thorin says, his gaze never leaving the images inside the crystal ball. The picture changes and shows him resting at the fire with the others. Kili and Fili seem to make a joke towards Bilbo, which Thorin seems to not enjoy as much. “You talk about the experience you had with Azog and the fight that happened.” Looking at him for a split second I can see his blue-grey eyes shimmer with hatred at the mention of the name. “Would you like me to continue?” “No that would be enough.” He retreats his hands from the crystal ball and his gaze lands on me. “Welcome to the company Melody.”

[theoddcatlady]

We Killed Bobby Tanner

It was me, Jessie Bates, Hunter Gilch, and Gabrielle Edison. We are the reason that Bobby Tanner never returned home that Friday night ten years ago, why every year his parents send out a plea asking for their son to come home. It was us. The senior class rejects.

Jessie was a bit slow and would believe anything you told him. You could tell this boy over a dozen times that ‘gullible’ was written on the ceiling and he’d believe you each of those times.

Gabrielle was pretty popular until her sophomore year when she got gonorrhea after having sex with her cheating shitbag of a boyfriend who didn’t know how to put on a condom. He, of course, blamed her for giving it to him and it didn’t matter what the truth was after that- Gabrielle was labeled a dirty slut and became a social outcast.

Hunter was just… off. Jessie followed him around like a lost puppy, but Hunter was that kid everyone was sure was either going to one day shoot up the school or become a prolific serial killer. Casual conversations would quickly turn sadistic as he’d brag about catching squirrels and birds in traps before killing them and cutting them up. He was the leader of our lil group, probably because the rest of us didn’t have a backbone.

Me, you can pick a reason why I was picked on- I’m fat, I had a serious acne problem, I’m socially awkward and a crybaby. I was an easy target because I’d start to cry when the words got too much and that was exactly what the bullies wanted.

Bobby was one of those bullies. He was everything we weren’t- he had money, he was good looking, he thought he was pretty smart, and he was funny… at least, if you weren’t the butt end of his jokes. We usually were. The only one he didn’t really pick on was Hunter, at least, not if he didn’t have a pack of friends around him. Hunter scared him, and probably for a good reason.

It was Hunter’s idea to kill him, after all.

It was after school, we were all at Hunter’s house. His parents were never home and it was a safe place to chill. I’d just finished throwing the pizza rolls in the microwave when he came out with it.

“What’s your perfect plan to kill someone?” Hunter said, interrupting Gabrielle’s rant about our stupid English teacher Mr. Shea.

Jessie laughed while Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Really? I don’t have one, Hunter. Because I’m not a sociopath.”

“Come on, it’s all hypothetical,” Hunter waved his hand, “Just go with it. What’s your go to plan?”

Jessie stroked his chin, which had a few scraggly hairs on it that he proudly called his ‘beard’. “Huh… I mean, I guess I’d kill them with my dad’s shotgun so he goes down for the murder? Fuck my dad,” He said.

Hunter snickered while I took a seat on the couch arm and pondered this hypothetical question. “I mean, I’d probably go for making it look like an accident. Like they fell off a cliff or a building, or the brakes in their car just gave out,” I answered.

Hunter looked genuinely impressed. “That’s actually not half bad! Come on, Gabrielle, what do you think?” He asked.

Gabrielle scoffed before she started twirling her hair- she always did that when she was thinking on something. “Oh my god, fine… I think I’d just poison the bastard? I’m not really strong, I mean, neither is Noelle, but here she is threatening to throw people off of buildings,” She elbowed my ribs teasingly.

“It’s a hypothetical question!” I threw my hands up in the air before looking down at Hunter. “Since you asked, I’m sure you already have an answer.”

“Lure them out to the woods before slicing open their throat so I can shower in their blood,” Hunter grinned menacingly and I had to suppress a shudder.

“That’s fucking gross… and would leave so much evidence, you idiot,” Gabrielle shook her head, “Actual sociopath, Hunter Gilch.”

We all laughed until Hunter brought up the next question. “Okay, who would you murder then? Say you could murder anyone and know you could get away with it. Name your picks,” He said as he crossed his arms.

I shifted uncomfortably while Gabrielle shook her head. “Too much, Hunter, too much,” She said.

“Who would you murder?” Jessie piped up with.

Hunter opened his mouth to respond when I heard the microwave beep. “Natural segue, it’s pizza rolls time!” I leaped up from the couch arm and ran into the kitchen. I did hear Hunter say he had a few possibles, but my return with the delicious snack had us completely forget about murder.

Almost.

The next week the cruelest prank was played on me. I got to my locker to see a present from a secret admirer, a box of chocolates with a sweet love letter. I was so overjoyed and I ended up enjoying two or three chocolates before class.

Chocolates that Bobby had laced with laxatives.

Just as the teacher was about to hand out the assignments, my stomach made that oh so uncomfortable gurgling sound and I had to bolt for the bathroom. I… didn’t make it. And I'd been wearing a skirt that day.

Liquid shit dripped down my legs as I scrambled for the bathroom, only to hear the cruelest laughter behind me. I looked, I saw Bobby, I saw his friends taking pictures with their phones, and I realized what happened.

I considered killing myself that night. The whole school knew what had happened. One of Bobby’s friends had texted him to let him know it was going down and that’s how he knew, and the incriminating pictures of me waddling down the hallway with a brown trail behind me spread like wildfire. I’d never live this down.

I’d already decided that I’d take all my mother’s sleeping pills and wash it down with a bottle of vodka when I heard my doorbell frantically ringing.

My mom was out so I ended up dragging myself to the door. When I opened it, there he was- Hunter. It had been raining out and he was soaking wet, gasping for breath as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Bobby. That’s who I’d fucking murder. Bobby fucking Tanner.”

I burst into tears and collapsed in Hunter’s arms.

That’s when we seriously began to plan to murder Bobby.

Jessie took no effort to convince, although I’m not sure he knew we were serious until the night it happened. Gabrielle was on the fence, but after she heard people laughing about ‘Shitstain Noelle’, she agreed to help as long as she wasn’t doing the actual killing part.

We all had a part to play. Gabrielle was the bait. Hunter and Jessie were the muscle. And I was the clean up crew.

I remember going to Jessie’s father’s home improvement shop to pick out the weapons. Jessie might’ve been dumb as a box of rocks when it came to things like school and common sense, but he knew tools. He chattered my ear off about how this certain brand of hammer was known to have its head come flying off if you used it too roughly and how this other brand was hardy and good for long term use.

Hunter picked one of those hammers and tossed it in the air. I never saw him smile quite so genuinely as he added it to the basket.

It was much more fun to actually plan the murder than commit it, at least for me. Each of us did get our own hammer, Jessie jokingly called us the hammer bros and Hunter laughed until he cried.

Gabrielle was probably the best damn bait. She made sure to approach Bobby when he was alone and actually let the bastard feel her up before saying if he wanted more, he should come with her after school. I was her back up, watching from around the corner just in case he got too much. I saw how he ogled her, he was entranced. Sure she was a slut, but she was still hot, and Bobby was still a teenage boy.

She had him drive them to the woods near Jessie’s place. We were all in position. The car pulled up and Bobby was far too focused on making out with Gabrielle to notice Hunter storming up to the car. By the time Hunter ripped the door open, it was too late for Bobby to get away.

The plan didn’t feel real until Hunter cracked the hammer against Bobby’s mouth.

Bobby screamed as Hunter dragged him out, bringing the hammer down again and again on his head. Jessie joined in and began smashing him wherever he could, but Hunter did most of the work. Jessie was more timid, he didn’t have it in him to really kill someone else.

Hunter did though. Bobby screamed and begged for him to stop. I don’t think he ever threw a punch back, he didn’t have a chance.

When he finally ceased crying and struggling, his face was a swollen, bloody mess. You couldn’t tell who he used to be. I think Hunter would’ve continued beating him if Jessie didn’t tell him it was enough. Bobby was dead.

The next part of the plan was performed mechanically. Hunter and Jessie took Bobby’s car to a deeper part of the woods where it was dismantled. Gabrielle went home. And I took care of the body, throwing it in the nearby river, tied with rocks, where it’ll never be seen again.

They sent search parties. People were dragged in for questioning. Even Hunter was, but we each other’s alibi- we were at Hunter’s house all night and he didn’t go anywhere. Probably the best stroke of luck was that Bobby didn’t tell anyone he was going out with Gabrielle. He was probably going to save the bragging for later.

People completely forgot about ‘Shitstain Noelle’ now that Bobby just up and disappeared. People talked about how he was such a good kid with such a promising future. Some rumors sprouted up about how all the pressure from his parents just made him crack and he took off to live in Florida or some shit. Other people still continued to point the finger at Hunter, saying we were just covering for him. Never really thought we participated though.

But I lied.

Bobby Tanner wasn’t dead when I took him to the river.

It came as a shock to me when I went to lift his body out of the bed of Jessie’s truck and he groaned. I nearly screamed. Somehow after being pulverized, Bobby was still alive.

I had a choice. If I dumped him in the water, he’d drown. No question about it. It was up to me now to finish the job.

Or maybe I couldn’t. Maybe when faced with the choice at the end, I just couldn’t.

Bobby was stashed under my bed. Every day when I came home from school, I expected to find him dead, but somehow he’d kept clinging onto life. I took care of him best I could with what supplies I could pick up over the counter, I fed him food turned into paste, and I’d clean up after him.

He wasn’t really… Bobby anymore. Even when his face healed, it was all crooked and puffy. I think sometime during the beating Hunter knocked one of his eyes out, because it was just gone, I don’t know what happened to it. I had to teach him how to go to the bathroom, how to eat by himself. I asked him if he remembered who I was, if he remembered Noelle.

All I got was a blank stare.

Bobby went with me to my new place when I moved out of my mother’s house. I taught him how to be quiet and stay still in the trunk I’d keep him in. During the day he knew to hide under the bed, when I got home from work he’d always give me a hug before lying down on the couch. He knew not to be seen, he listened to whatever I said. It was like having a son.

I never told the others. After the murder we just… grew apart. Things weren’t the same. Hunter was more manic and morbid than ever, Jessie became quiet and threw himself into work at his father’s shop, and Gabrielle…

Gabrielle couldn’t live with what we did. She hung herself about three months after our group murder. It was too much for her. I wish I told her at least that we didn’t kill Bobby. It’s probably the only reason the guilt hasn’t consumed me either.

But maybe I shouldn’t have kept him alive, either.

Like I said, it’s been ten years. Bobby’s made leaps and strides in taking care of himself, he can even heat up leftovers in the microwave. For the longest time, he was a blank slate. I was his Noelle, the woman taking care of him. His only friend. The world outside was a bad place, was the reason he lost himself.

Last week I left out some old things while doing some spring cleaning. Most importantly, I left out a book of pictures. I came back home to see Bobby staring at a picture of my friends. I asked him what he was doing and he just shrugged and I thought that was that. He didn’t have his memories, after all.

Well that picture knocked something loose. I came home today to find Bobby was gone, with that picture torn up in little shreds. Sometime that afternoon someone broke into the home improvement store that Jessie still worked at and beat him to death with one of the hammers.

I’m trying to get in contact with Hunter now, I know he still lives in the state but we haven’t spoken in years.

I just hope I’m not too late.

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Neutralised Bios: Bram (1994)

One of Three Grave-Diggers Abraham Machado

A grave-digger and a musician Abraham Machado.

"Morning, Mona, sorry I'm late, Cal… car troubles"

Name

Full Legal Name: Abraham Salvador Varela Machado

First Name: Abraham

Meaning: This name may be viewed either as meaning 'Father of many' in Hebrew or else as a contraction of 'Abram' meaning 'High father' and 'Hamon' meaning 'Many, Multitude'.

Pronunciation: a-bra-AM / AY-bra-ham

Origin: English, Hebrew, Spanish, French, Swedish, Dutch, German, Norwegian, Danish, Biblical, Biblical Latin

Middle Name: Salvador

Meaning: Spanish, Portuguese and Catalan form of the Late Latin name 'Salvator', which meant 'Saviour', referring to Jesus.

Pronunciation: sal-ba-DOOR

Origin: Spanish, Portuguese, Catalan

Surname(s): Varela, Machado

Meaning(s): Varela: Derived from Spanish 'Vara' 'Stick'. Machado: Derived from Spanish and Portuguese 'Machado' 'Hatchet', both from Latin 'Marculus' 'Little hammer'.

Pronunciation(s): ba-REH-la. ma-CHA-dho

Origin(s): Spanish. Portuguese, Spanish

Titles: Mr, Señor

Goes By: Abe, Bram

Characteristics

Age: 30

Gender: Male. He/Him Pronouns

Race: Human

Nationality: American Citizen. Born in America

Ethnicity: Hispanic (Sephardic Jewish)

Birth Date: 12th May 1964

Sexuality: Straight

Religion: Jewish

Native Language: Spanish

Known Languages: Spanish, English, Portuguese, Italian, Hebrew, (Some) Latin

Relationship Status: Single

Astrological Sign: Taurus

Played By: Alfred Molina

Appearance

Height: 6'3 / 190 cm

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Black

Hair Dye: None

Body Hair: Hairy

Facial Hair: Varies between a Clean Shave and a Full Beard

Tattoos: (As of Jan 1994) 1 (Has 'Vivimos, Amamos, Morimos' [We live, we love, we die] tattooed under his left armpit, next to his heart)

Piercings: None

Scars: None

Health and Fitness

Allergies: None

Alcoholic, Smoker, Drug User: Social Drinker, Occasional Smoker

Illnesses/Disorders: None Diagnosed

Medications: None

Any Specific Diet: None

Relationships

Affiliated Groups: Mortimer & Co. Mortuary Services (Employee)

Friends: Cal, Mona, Meg

Significant Other: None

Parents: Rabbi Abiram Machado (63, Father), Haydée Machado (61, Mother, Née Varela)

Parents-In-Law: None

Siblings: Humberto Varela Machado (25, Brother), Aurora Varela Machado (20, Sister)

Siblings-In-Law: None

Nieces & Nephews: None

Children: None

Extras

Level of Education: G.E.D

Occupation: Grave-Digger

Employer: Mortimer & Co. Mortuary Services

Biography: Bram learnt from a young age that being a hardworking man would take him far in the world. He met and befriended a young Mona during his time vacationing in Eloia, Illinois for Hanukkah when he was 19. He moved to Chicago at 21 (after getting his G.E.D) and started working at the facility soon after. Assigned by Mr Mortimer to be a gravedigger after failing his physical fitness test to become a security guard. He soon became close with Cal, a fellow grave-digger and introduced him to Mona upon her joining the staff. Bram's harboured a crush on Mona ever since, even though he would never let her know as he's too busy acting tough.

[astra-galaxie]

"A friend of our pestisor is a friend of ours." - Răzvan Negrescu

Biographical information

Full Name: Răzvan Negrescu

Alias(es):

Răz

Cigno (Swan in Italian)

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Demisexual

Status: Alive

Age: 50 (season 4)

Birth: 1840

Race: Human

Nationality: Romanian

Origin: Transylvania, Romania

Residence:

Concordia, USA

Grimsborough, USA (formerly)

Canto del Mare, Italy (formerly)

Transylvania, Romania (formerly)

Profession(s):

Glass-Blower

Tailor

Family: Argo Acquafredda (godson)

Partner(s): Santiano Adriatico (boyfriend)

Profile

Height: 6'0"

Age: 50 (season 4)

Weight: 159lbs

Eyes: black

Blood: O+

Răzvan is a tall man with ebony skin, long black hair braided into dozens of tight sections tied to one side of his neck, and a short beard. He wears a black dress shirt with matching slacks and boots featuring gold details. Over the shirt is a deep yellow vest and a black trench coat with gold buttons. His most recognizable accessory is his gold collar-style necklace, which resembles two wings coming together with a gem in the middle.

Additionally, Răzvan carries a black cane with a golden handle and tip featuring starry engravings on the grip.

As per his suspect appearance in Curtain Kill, it is known that Răzvan plays a string instrument (he plays the double bass), knows La Traviata, and drinks wine.

History

To be revealed during Murders of The Past

Events of Criminal Case

Season 4

Răzvan made his debut during Curtin Kill. Mr. Alastor invited him to the mystery man's final party to thank him for making his glasses roses on such short notice. Răzvan brought Santiano along as his plus-one, and the two enjoyed the wine and food while waiting for Viviana to take the stage. And like Santiano, he was not surprised to see that someone chose to murder Viviana before her performance could even begin.

After Charlie had analyzed the glass rose Răzvan had made for Viviana's show and connected him to it, he became a suspect in her murder. He told Isaac and Maddie that he only knew Viviana through work and not on a personal level. However, they later discovered that Viviana had stolen Răzvan's necklace as "collateral" for him crafting her glass rose. And while he continued to maintain his innocence, Răzvan couldn't help but be hostile towards the detectives for how they spoke to Santiano.

Once the killer was arrested, Răzvan had hoped the party would come to a quick end. He loves a good party as much as the next person, but even he grows tired of socializing. Plus, he knows Santiano dislikes crowds of people staring at him, so he knew his partner was impatient to leave. So after helping Isaac and Maddie as best he could with their Alastor investigation, he and Santiano watched Argo's performance to close the party and reunite with their son.

Story Information

First appeared: Curtain Kill

Trivia

While not a Romanian ballet, part of Răzvan's design is inspired by "Swan Lake." Kudos to anyone who knows what adaptation of Swan Lake inspired the design of his necklace!

Before returning to Canto del Mare, Răzvan hadn't visited since Argo was a baby. Keeping in contact was difficult, so he didn't think anything of it when he hadn't heard from his godson's parents for a long time. It wasn't until an islander managed to send him a letter that Răzvan learned of Moana and Moray's fates, and he immediately made the journey to Canto del Mare to take care of Argo

He's a bit of a polyglot. He knows many common sayings and phrases in several languages, but when it comes to fluency, he's fluent in Romanian, Latin, Italian, Spanish, French and English

While his primary profession is glass blowing, Răzvan is also a skilled fashion designer and jewelry maker. He has been commissioned to make countless outfits for almost every occasion, from women's wedding dresses to stage outfits

Disclaimer: Character design was created using Rinmarugames Mega Anime Avatar Creator! I have only made minor edits to the design! Background courtesy of CriminalArtist5

Links to my stories:

The Case of the Criminal (Ao3/Wattpad) Killer Bay (Ao3/Wattpad) Where in the World are the Killers? (Ao3/Wattpad) Murders of The Past (Ao3/Wattpad)

[bedofthistles]

The Little White Horse: The De Noirs / The 'Black Men' / Mr. Cock

A look at Elizabeth Goudge's villains

TL;DR

Now, I had a very hard time trying to work out whether or not Ms. Goudge was intentionally writing the De Noir’s to be some kind of ethnic group. 

Throughout the book, despite Maria knowing that they are the De Noirs, she calls them the ‘Black Man’ or the ‘Black men’. Even though she calls them this however, there are a few justifications. the first being that they are described as wearing all black, and therefore Maria would be referring to them by their clothing. 

However, Goudge does not end there, and uses a few other descriptors. 

“Though their eyes were flashing in their dark faces in a very nasty way, a way that boded ill for Maria.”

“[Mr. Cock’s face] was a face like an eagle's, dark and wicked, with a cruel hooked nose and flashing black eyes that looked at one very directly but had no softness in them. His black eyebrows beetled alarmingly and what could be seen of his mouth between his black mustache and thick black beard was like one of his own cruel traps.”

“We are the men of the northern woods, Of the moor, the hill and the sea.” 

“If I could only give [the pearls] to you," she said to the moon. “But I don't want to give them to that ugly Black Man."

“​​Monsieur Cocq de Noir stretched out a strong lean brown hand…”

Let’s start with descriptors like ‘brown hand’ and ‘dark face’ and why I gave Goudge the benefit of the doubt for so long. Brown, in many instances, has been used to mean having suntanned skin. The Parson is also described as having brown hands. Presumably because of his work out in the sun, he has tanned, he has browned. Similarly, dark can be an emotional description, ‘his expression darkened’, and it is not necessarily a color description. 

However, the main issues come back in with “a face like an eagle, dark and wicked, with a cruel hooked nose” and “of the moor”. Since dark and wicked are used in conjuncture, the same argument could be made that she is using dark as an emotion, however in this chapter he is described as having a hooked nose, and coming from the moors. 

Hooked noses are commonly given to villains (think Snape, Mother Gothel, Ursula… possibly every Disney Villain) because of their connection to ethnic groups. I don’t think it’s news when I say that hooked noses are often a caricature of Jews, of Romani, Native Americans and other ethnic groups. They are more often than not given to villainous characters because they are ‘ugly’. They aren’t by the way, I don’t think I have to say that, but all noses are good noses. As long as you can breathe, your nose is good, a physical feature is not an indicator of one’s moral goodness. 

And while Ms. Heliotrope and Sir Benjamin are described as having hooked noses (honestly, Goudge only describes Loveday as beautiful, everyone else she describes as ugly in some way shape or form) we know definitively that they are white. 

Which brings me around to “we are the men of the moor”. While the English moors are a kind of wetland, bog-esque area, it is pretty commonly known that Moor was a term used to describe Muslims. The word itself means ‘dark’.

I do believe there is a connection between the Moorish and the moorlands, in that one was named after the other, but I could be mistaken. 

Goudge has also done her best to make sure we know that these are wicked, awful people, that these are a group who do nothing but pillage and steal. 

I don’t want to strictly say she wrote them as one ethnic group over the other, they could be African, they could be Romani, they could be Jewish, there’s no way to tell, all we have are ethnic stereotypes and descriptions of dark skin, which again could just mean tan. 

Either way, Goudge is perpetuating racist stereotypes with her villian, whether or not she is clearly stating they are this race or another. 

In the Mini-series, Moonacre, the ‘Blackhearts’ are presented to the audience, less as a band of marauders, and more like an opposing family, who also take residence within the Valley. And they just want water.

In the Secret of Moonacre, they are clearly a mix of both. They are a family, one that used to be well-respected, that lives in the Valley, same as the Merryweathers, but they still have a ‘black’ reputation.  

This is also the new national anthem:

COCK SONG We are the men of the northern woods, Of the moor, the hill and the sea, Huntsmen, trappers and fishermen wild Riding ways that are fierce and free, We are the men of the great black cock Who roosts so high on the tall pine tree, Crying cock-a-doodle, a-doodle, Do! Do! Black cock on the tall pine tree. We are the sons of thunder and storm, The frost and the wind and the snow, We are tumult, the fear of the night, And darkness wherever we go. We are the men of the great black cock, With inky feathers and sable crest, Crying cock-a-doodle, a-doodle, Do! Do! Black cock with the sable crest. We are the men of dungeon and wall, Of axe and of helm and of shield. We are the men of cudgel and sword, The fighters who never will yield. We are the men of the great black cock, Who crows so loud on the castle keep, Crying cock-a-doodle, a-doodle, Do! Do! Black cock on the castle keep

Prev | Next

[goldnhalos]

𝕀ℕ𝕋ℝ𝕆𝔻𝕌ℂ𝕀ℕ𝔾: 𝕊𝔸ℕ𝕋𝕀 𝔽𝕃𝕆ℝ𝔼𝕊.

hello everyone ! my name's fox, (she/they, 25, brt.) and i'm so excited to be here ! i haven't joined a group in... i want to say like a year and a half ? maybe two ? so pls be patient with me while i get my grind back lmao. this is santi, he's a mix and match of some old characters i have, i hope u all enjoy him ! i'll be posting a plotting call on the discord server soon but if you wanna hmu there and start plotting already, my handle is aslutforpainandsuffering

* ◟ : 〔 pedro pascal, cis man + he/him 〕 santiago flores , some say you’re a forty-five year old lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both gentle and guarded, one can’t help but think of riders on the storm by the doors when you walk by. are you still an active assassin for red eye, even with your reputation as the arcane? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and bruised knuckles. a pile of unread letters thrown across the floor. a broken whiskey bottle, although we can’t help but think of oliver marks ( if we were villains ) + matthew prior ( gallant ) + jackson healy ( the nice guys ) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

tw: violence ; torture ; suicide ; drug / alcohol abuse ;

. * basics !

full name: santiago flores.

known as: santi ; mr. flores.

age + birthday: forty-five ; july 10th.

birthplace: unknown.

gender + pronouns: cis male ; he/him.

sexuality: bisexual.

occupation: assassin.

fc: pedro pascal.

spoken languages: english ; spanish.

tropes: bad liar, trauma conga line, unconscientious objector, butt-monkey.

phisical atributes: 5 ft 11" (1.80m); lean built ; no tattos ; several scars ; scraggily beard.

. * early days !

the only memory santiago has of his family is os his siblings running through a green pasture; he can remember the soft feeling of his mother's lap underneath his cheek, and the way her fingers ran through his hair. the sound of little children laughing haunts his dreams, but there's not a single face in sight. the people in his memory are nothing but blurred sillouettes, ghosts of people he once knew, of the child he once was. the orphanage, though, of that his memories are crystal clear: the beating, the fear, the hope that somebody would come and rescue him, and then the subsequently disapointment once he grew old enough to understand that nobody would. and then, nanuvut. the cold was somehow worse than the beatings, worse than the physical training that took and took and took from him until santi was nothing but a shell of the smiley kid he'd once been. killing is all that he knows, but santiago has never been at peace with it. he's familiar with death, has given it his entire life and soul, but it has never been something he enjoyed, something he got used to it. despite all the training, his handlers have never been able to supress his kind soul and gentle ways— nature vs. nurture, santiago being the living proof that there are some things nothing can ever truly change. all he wants is some peace and quiet, a life away from all of the decay and violence; a herb garden far away from the city, a sunlit kitchen and a big library to ruffle through. his dreams of tranquility have yet to come: when all you know is the underbelly of chaos, the rotten people and monsters, no other place feels like home.

. * recent years !

santiago tried leaving; at twenty-three, he tried to hang up his guns and become a regular, law-abiding citizen. and he didsurprisingly well. santiago went as far as graduating college, a major in psychology, and those were the best four years of his life. he partied, and he fell in love, and for the first time since he could remember, santi felt truly free. like he could finally be himself, like the blood on his hands had finally washed away. he settled down, and married a nice girl. his dreams of a suburbia life iwth white picket fences and a big slobbering dog were so close to become a reality he could barely believe it. a month after his marriage, another operative showed up. the operative -- probably a mercenary, santiago figured -- destroyed his home, tied his doe-eyed wife to a chair and ripped every single one of her nail before he got home from work. the message was clear: he was to return willingly to the red eye and fufill his purpose, or they would force his hand and the punishments for it would be devastating. his wife survived, but the trauma was too much. it ruined their marriage faster than anything else ever could, and santiago saw no other option but to return to his handlers with his tail between his legs. the corporeal punishments and risky missions were nothing compared to the feeling of falure, and santiago found solace in drowning himself in liquor, white lines and all sorts of chemicals that he could get his hands on. it started to affect his job, and santiago got slippery. more than once, the organization had to step in to prevent him from going to jail. considering his large death toll, santiago was giving a single chance: if he didn't get his act cleaned up, he could be terminated. as it turned out, santiago's destructive behavior was meant as self-sabotage, not as suicidal tendencies, and his self-preservation instincts took over. after a hellish period of going in and out of rehab, santiago has been somewhat clean; he hasn't exactly dropped the alcohol, though his black outs have stopped getting in the way of his work, and he's gone cold turkey on any narcotics. a functioning alcoholic, a friend called him once. it was good enough for the red eye, in the end.

. * wanted connections !

a best friend ; the only person in the world that santi trusts. he's not one to give himself lighty, but this person has proven time and time again that they're his ride or die. ( 0 / 1 )

an old friend ; someone that was in the orphanage with him. maybe they get along, maybe they hate each other, this dynamic can be played in any sort of way. ( 0 / ?? )

friends of all kinds ; santiago can be kind of closed off, but as it turns out he can be quite friendly once you push through that, so he probably gets along with this person pretty well. ( 0 / ?? )

an ex ; ever since his marriage, santi has big issues with commitment. in his life of work, he knows having a partner is a weaklink, something people can use against you. they cared for each other deeply, but once things got started to get serious, santiago jumped ship, probably in the worst way possible. ( 0 / 1 )

a protegé ; there's something about this person that just makes santiago's instincts bubble up. it's someone he'd kill and die to protect, and has been working on teaching them as many of his own skills as he possibly can. bonus points if this is someone that can handle their own better than he ever could, but he insists that they need help anyways. ( 0 / 1 )

the enemy ; santiago has made many enemies along the way ; he's quite blunt, and despite not enjoying violence, he does resort to it whenever needed. they've probably come blow to blow at some point before, and it doesn't get better. ( 0 / 1 )

the bad influence ; santiago's a very strict, logical person. he doesn't do things on whims, and certainly doesn't partake in reckless behavior very often. this is someone with whom santi's first instinct is to be “well, what the hell!” and he’ll do things he normally wouldn’t, be that go to a rave late at night, do the hard drugs he's supposedly given up years ago or just eat that greasy bacon cheeseburger that might give him a heart attack. ( 0 / 1 )

the protective friend ; there’s nothing santiago doest best than taking care of people. in return, no one really takes care of him. except for this person, who’s there for him when he breaks down, who would go head first into a bar fight to watch his six and just doesn’t fuck around when it comes to calling santiago out on his bullshit. ( 0 / 1 )

[sal-is-my-favourite]

Mr Vulcano - Sal Vulcano Fanfic

⚠️ ex student/teacher contains Smut and Alcohol Consumption ⚠️

You were out in a bar in Manhattan celebrating your 25th birthday with friends when someone caught your eye, a familiar face but you don’t know where you remember him from. You rack your brain as to what his name was and where did you know him from, the it hit you sqaure in the face. It was Mr Vulcano my English teacher from High School, the teacher I used to fantasize about bending me over his desk and pounding into me whilst calling me his little teachers pet. I catch eye contact with him and i’m sure i’m blushing, he looks to me and frowns his brow’s slightly mostly likely trying to remember my face.

I wander to the bar asking for a large Vodka and Lemonade as i’m about to pay a voice from beside me pipes up making it clear that they’d pay, I look to my right and there he is towering over me, tall dark and handsome. He hasn’t changed much since I left high school seven years ago, his beard was neat as was his hair. “Thank you for the drink” I clink my glass against his bottle of beer making him smile, as i’m about to walk away he grabs my hand pulling me back making me giggle a little and roll my eyes. He presses his lips against my ear and whispers “Miss Brown, did you just roll your eyes at me?”. I swallow the lump in my throat as he places his hand on the small of my back pulling me against his chest, he remembered me.

“You remember me?” I shout over the loud music. “Of course I remember you, if you weren’t my student all those years ago i’d have called you my own. There’s no rules saying I can’t see an ex student after they leave…”. Butterflies fill my tummy and my pants become damp as he speaks, I wanted him back then but I want him even more now.

“Do you have a first name or should I just call you Mr Vulcano?” I asks playfully. “Sal, but I do like Mr Vulcano. Reminds me of when you used to put your hand in the air and ask for help.” I smile thinking back to the memories of high school.

“Well, thanks for the drink Sal I appreciate it. Have a good night” I kiss his cheek before walking away from him. What was I doing? He wants me just as much as I want him. I go back to my friends and glance over at Sal talking to three others who were also my teachers, Mr Gatto, Mr Quinn and Mr Murray. I’m surprised I remembered their names it was that long ago, why was I playing hard to get.

As the night got on we were getting more drunk and wild on the dance floor, I wore a little black dress that just covered my bum with spaghetti straps on my shoulders and a deep plunge at my boobs pairing the dress with black heels to give me some extra height. As we’re dancing I feel a pair of hands on my waist and a body pushing against my back, I hope that’s his phone in his pocket. I turn around and to my surprise I come face to face with Sal, I smile and wrap my arms around his neck pulling him closer. I bite my lip as he looks down at me, his lips smash against mine taking me by surprise but I open my mouth letting his tongue explore mine. I could taste the beer on his tongue as he holds me flush against him. We both pull away and I look down blushing, he laughs slightly before leaning into my ear, nudging my blonde hair out of his way as he does so. “Let’s get out of here”.

Around half an hour later we were back at Sal’s apartment, we hadn’t made it to the bedroom as soon as we stepped foot through the door his lips were on mine and both our hands were clawing at each others clothes in desperation to get undressed. Sal lifts me up and I wrap my arms and legs around him instantly, he make his way to the bedroom bumping against the door Sal kicks it open with his heel and lays me down on his king size bed. Both of us now in our underwear our clothes discharded somewhere in the house Sal climbs on top of me kissing from my neck all the way down to my damp thong, I whimper when he places his lips over the wet fabric as he hooks his finger against the side of my thong slowly pulling it down my leg. As the fabric pulls itself away from my damp spot Sal’s lips instantly connect with my Clit sending a jolt through my body, my fingers grab the sheet beneath me as he works wonders on me. My moans and pleads only encouring him. I feel the coil in my stomach tighten and as i’m about to come he pulls away, the tears threatening to fall from my lids as I look at Sal who’s pulling down his tight boxers. My eyes widen at the length and thickness of him. Sure i’ve had sex before but not with someone as big as him. Sal looks at me and the expression on my face says everything.

“You ok?” He asks, I nod before blurting out “Sal, you’re massive! I’ve never had sex with someone as big as you…”. Sal grins back at the compliment, he gave off big dick energy but he was so much bigger than I imagined. Sal grabs a condom from his wallet rolling it on before climbing between my spread open legs. “I’ll go slow I promise” he places his forehead against mine as he pushes the tip into me, my mouth flies open but nothing comes out. I watch as he slowly pushes into me disappearing deep inside. There was a mixture of pain and pleasure but I nearly scream when he finally comes to a halt. He stays still for a minute letting me adjust to his size as he softly places little kisses on my neck, my arms wrap around his neck playing with his short hair. Sal places his head against mine once again looking in my eyes for permission to start moving, which I grant.

Sal pulls near enough all the way out before pushing himself back in, my breath becomes irregular and a little moan comes from my lips, he starts to go a bit faster causing me to moan his name which he clearly likes as he begins slamming into me. My nails claw at his arms as my back arches and the screams of his name leave my lips, Sal moans back all sorts of filth in my ear causing me to quickly reach my climax tightening around him and shaking uncontrollably, he pulls orgasm after orgasm out of me hitting my sweet spot everytime he slams into me harder, both our bodies stick together with sweat and the bed is covered in a large wet patch. Sal’s thrusts become frantic as he chases his orgasm. “O…oh my god Sal you’re so biggggg” I cry through gritted teeth, tears of pleasure rolling down the side of my face. “You’re so fucking tight, s..say my name… fucking say it” Sal wraps his hand around your throat forcing your eyes open to look at him. “S…s…sir!!!” I scream unintentionally, Sal growls back animalistically as he pulls my legs higher up his torso slamming deeper into me, this time I scream his name and he stills inside me crying out with pleasure as he explodes into the condom, ropes and ropes of his white come filling the latex. Sal is dripping with sweat as he looks down at you breathing heavy. “You did so well, let me get you cleaned up”. He pulls out of you as gently as he can, getting up and going into the bathroom you watch as he disappears coming back minutes later with a warm flannel wiping between your sensitive legs. You lie exhausted as Sal climbs into bed beside you softly moving your sticky hair from your eyes. Your cheeks burn crimson as you look at Sal’s body covered in angry red scratches, he notices you looking and shrugs laughing slightly. Your eyes fall closed as you smuggle close to Sal’s sticky body.

[sweetbutteryspacejesus]

I wrote this while being in another country and having no acces to a single english corrector. I like to surprise the people that read my stuff so, enjoy.

The original thread: https://twitter.com/spicyexsistance/status/1644440761805467654?s=20

It was a quiet night. /Was/. More than usual. Izzy didn't do night shifts anymore now that he was associated with Dr. Bonnet but he needed a couple of extra bucks so he decided to make some extra hours. 

He didn't mind working, he loved his work as a nurse.

He walked the corridors of the silent hospital nursing coffee. Nodding to some of his companions who didn't dare speak to him on the best of days. 

Nothing like the white tiles of floor reflecting the lights tracing a path with darkened corners to reflect the peacefulness of the night . But peace doesn't last, at least not enough for Izzy's taste. 

A man on a stretcher accompanied by a policeman burst through the front door. Izzy snaps, leaves the coffee on a counter an jumps into action. He gets on the man's side and stars giving orders. 

“ What happened? What's the situation?” He asked to the policeman.

“ I- I don't know. ” poor kid seemed to be a rookie on his first patrol. “ I was just, I was doing some standard search and he just, he fainted. I'm sorry, It just happened so fast. ” 

“ Don't be sorry, just awnser me.” Izzy placed his fingers on the man's hot skin finding his steady pulse. “ Did he look confused? Did you see him falter or stumble a little or something? ” 

“ N-No, he was just- fine and suddenly he wasn't ” The agent looked like he was about to faint and Izzy didn't need another patient today.

“ Alright. ” Izzy placed a band on the man's arm to take his blood pressure feels his muscles tense while the policeman 

continues rambling about something.

“ I swear I didn't do anything — ” and Izzy had to stop him there.

“ I'll take it from here, go home or get some rest. ” The policeman didn't question his orders as Izzy led the man into a room with more privacy. 

Clearly the policeman didn't know that this was not standard hospital procedure. Izzy pressed a hand to his temples, it's not the first time he's seen this modus operandi. He steps closer really watching the man. 

He's got brownish skin, a beautiful curly dark short hair and the beginnings of a beard, practically just stubble. He's around Izzy's age. Maybe that's the thing that really angers Izzy, for some reason. But Izzy's lived enough to stop from asking himself the big question: why. 

He takes off the band on his toned bicep and:

“ You can stop pretending now. ” Izzy waits but the man doesn't even stirr. Alright if that's the game he wanted to play... He steps away. “ Alright, I'll need a 4 inches tube to perform an anal- ” 

“ ¡Oh gosh miracle!” The man suddenly rose. Izzy crossed his arms at his chest with his best sour face. No one in their right mind would continue to speak at him in normal circumstances and yet... 

“ Oh, how did I get here? I was at home and then... thank you for saving me, but I'm already fine. ”

“ Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that mister...?”

“ Teach. ” 

“ Mister Teach, It's my job to make sure you're okay, run some tests... Maybe it's something serious. ” Izzy forced a tight fake smile.

The man - Mr Teach, if that was his real name - looked at him with a glint in his eyes. 

If Izzy knew better he would've thought he was checking him out.

“ Well, If you insist... ” Mr. Teach licked his velvet lips. “ Y'know I think I felt some pain in here before I fainted maybe you should- check. Maybe it's a tumour or some shit” 

The man moved his hand from the bed to his chest. Just in the middle of his pectoral.

“ What do you think, Mr nurse. ” He tilted his head exposing the skin of his neck. In his tight purple shirt there was little left to imagination. 

“ Oh for fucks-... I know you were faking it. ” Izzy tried to stop the red flush off his face, growling at the man. “ I don't give a fuck what happened with you and the police but don't go wasting my time with this shit. You're perfectly fine. ” 

“ Okay, you got me there mate. ” He replied still with a playful look on his eyes. “ Still I think you should check at-...”

“ Yeah? You want me to check on what's your friend's opinion on that? ” Izzy pointed to the door refering to the police officer. 

“ Oh, you're into that? I wasn't planning on a threesom- ”

“ I'm giving you a chance to fucking leave without being handcuffed, just take it before I ran out of patience. ” Izzy stopped him before he could stick his leg deeper into that mud. 

“ Alright, alright, no need to get aggressive. Uh... I'll just.” He hopped off the bed and walked to the door. Izzy stopped him there. In his hands he held a bin.

“ If you got anything on you throw it or I will register you myself and I won't be nice about it. ” 

“ Oh, don't threaten me with a good time. ” Mr Teach replied, bold but whatever he found in Izzy's face made him drop his mask immediately. “ C'mon Izzy, don't make me do this, man. ”

“ Into the bin I said. ” 

The man reached into his pants, dropped two bags of some kind of stuff. Nothing good probably.

“ That's all I got. ” The man's words were sincere, he was defeated. More resigned than sad. That would be enough then.

“ You can go now. ” Izzy commanded. 

Mr Teach spares Izzy another look, a mix of emotions glued together. Like a kid who's just been caught doing something wrong but with something else Izzy couldn't decipher. He's not good at emotions. And then he flees. 

He got rid of the bin making sure no one saw it and then dismissed the police officer. It's not the first time Izzy's dealt with some poor bloke in trouble. He knows what the hospital thinks about free healthcare or lying to the authorities but fuck them. 

It's not like Izzy was something bad by saving those kids some trouble. Most of the white guys who made those rules had the money and the contacts to get into this job and live a fullfiling life. They didn't have to fight for a meal or a warm place to stay. 

They don't understand what its like. So fuck them, they're not smart enough to realise what Izzy's been doing for about five years or so. If he's lucky enough he won't have to attend Mr. Teach for an overdose in a couple of nights. 

Maybe he'll never see him again that black haired man.

Izzy did in fact meet the man again. Another night shift, twelve o'clock a coffee in his hands keeping him awake. The man who crosses the automatic doors is wearing a black leather jacket and a hooded green sweatshirt 

covering all his features. Something about the way he walked (unsure and shy but gaining confidence as he walked) towards him felt familiar.

“ Hey mate, ” The voice was too characteristic for Izzy to forget. Deep, rumbling and robust. 

Warm and safe. Like a wooden shelter in the middle of the forest or coming home after a long winter night.

“ I felt horrible last night and I thought after fainting that couldn't be good so... Y'know what they said.” 

“ You didn't faint, Mr Teach. ” Izzy raised an eyebrow, this man couldn't be serious. He saw the facade falter a bit but the man kept pushing.

“ Well it felt like that.” He shrugged. “ I - I read that might be some serious stuff, cancer and all that shit. I'm not the expert ” 

“ And you believe everything that Google says? ”

“ Thought you couldn't refuse to attend your clients. It's in your code n' shit. ” The man grinned and Izzy knew he couldn't get out of this.

He got him there. Izzy took a deep breath. 

“ Follow me. ” He left the coffee and guided Mr Teach to some of the emergency rooms. The man followed him with a weird excitement. “ On the bed, take off your jacket and hoodie. ” 

“Well, well, well. You're not even going to ask my name? ” The man hopped to the bed laying on his side mocking the sexy pose. Izzy without reacting pushed him onto his back. 

“ Alright, I'll go first, the name's Edward, Edward Teach born on a beach. ” He chanted while Izzy worked on taking his blood pressure. Trying not to be distracted by the tattoos decorating the other man's entire arm. 

“ Izzy or Mr Hands, nurse Hands as far as you're concerned. ” He hissed dangerously while ripping the band of the blood pressure monitor.

“ Ow, kinky...” The man kept that dumb smile on his face, so perfect that Izzy had to turn around before punching that smug face. 

“ Hold this for me. ” Izzy turned to place the thermometer on his armpit, at least he followed that order.

“ Thought nurses were supposed to be sweet and careful. ”

Edward kept teasing, enough to make Izzy want to crawl off his skin or slap him. Maybe both. 

“ You want a lollipop after this? Will that make you feel better?”

That fake smile was back in Izzy's face offering zero to none kindness and some shy red filling his face (obviously from the anger?). Izzy's harsh and abrasive he knows that, that's why he's not in pediatrics. 

“ Maybe. ” He shrugged Izzy's claws away and answered with a playful smile. The way those deep brown eyes stared back at him, with a glint of something made Izzy realise two things: that this man enjoyed this sick game and that Edward Teach was beautiful. 

Whatever words Izzy wanted to say got stuck in his throat. The thermometer counter ended. Izzy took the device in his hands and said:

“ And... You're fine. Temperature's good, blood pressure good. You're perfectly fine. ” Izzy announced in his I-told-you-so voice. 

“ You sure, Mr. Hands? I feel so...hot.” Edward covered his eyes with one arm and the other running down his torso uncovering part of his stomach and the tentacle tattoo that wrapped his side and trailed lower and lower and... Maybe Izzy should stop looking. 

He covered his chest with his arms protectively as if that would cover the red on his cheeks.

“ I-It's what the thermometer says. ” That's the only excuse he can find.

“ Sometimes those things fail. ” This is the moment were Izzy's done. 

He pushes the arm out of his eyes finding those brown irises looking at him. Izzy places his hand on Edwards forehead, places his other hand on his heart feeling the rise and fall of his chest. It's a quiet moment. Edward trusts him enough to close his eyes. 

The other man's skin is soft under Izzy's callused hands, warm but not warm enough to be abnormally hot. It's the pleasant kind of warm. He slides his fingers down Edward's face, finding his cheek and his eyes land on his wanting parted lips. Waiting to be kissed. 

And Izzy expects the kiss too but instead he slaps softly his cheek. That seems to wake up the man. This isn't a movie and Izzy is sure as hell he's not the main character.

“ Hey! ” he sits up faster than Izzy expected. Fire on his eyes, ready to fight back Izzy's harshness. 

Edwards stomach growls instead.

That seems to cut the fire. The man stays there looking at the bed... A different light on his eyes, he's embarrassed, he's trusting Izzy. Making himself vulnerable to the nurse. Izzy could easily break it. 

He doesn't want to see this look on the man again.

“ I'll get you something to eat. ” 

Izzy scrambles out of the room, he can still feel Edward's eyes looking at him as if he was a person worth knowing. He gets his (now cold) coffee back into his hands and quickly assembles what's the most bland and horrible meal he's ever seen. 

Izzy almost feels ashamed to consume this stuff daily.

The door seems to startle Edward. He's back from wherever his mind had gone. At the plate he smiles, big, it even reaches his eyes.

“ So it's a date now. ” He rubs his hands together and crosses his legs on the bed. 

“ It's just some cold turkey sandwich and some jelly. ” And also was Izzy's dinner. He shoves the plate to Edward's hands unceremoniously and finds a chair to drink his coffee in peace. 

“ Still on my top five dates of all time. ” Honestly, Izzy doesn't want to think how horrible the other dates may have been. “ It's my favourite! ”

He moves the plate and the jello wobbles. 

“ Have you ever wondered what jello is made of? ” the man inspected the sandwich like it was going to kill him.

“ It's made out of collagen and sugar. ” Izzy tried to sound annoyed.

“ Yuck... Thought it would be something cooler, like magic.”

“ Magic? ”

“ Just look at it.” 

Izzy squints at Edward as he makes the jello dance on his plate like a child.

“ Just fucking eat it, stop playing with it. ” Izzy snaps, always prone to anger. 

“ Nope, jello it's a dessert, first the sandwich.” Izzy looks at him, almost expectantly as he unwraps the cold plain food. He takes a bite and bursts laughing. “ God... It's fucking horrible. ” 

“ Then don't fucking eat it. ” Edward just keeps laughing. “ That's it, give me the damm thing.”

“ Nope, it's my sandwich!” Edward complains and before Izzy can snap back and try to reclaim the damm sandwich he adds. 

“ Don't get mad, okay? It's fine, it's good it's just... Thank you. For the jelly and the other day. ”

“ Nothin' ” Izzy mutters into his coffee. 

Against all the odds, after that it becomes sort of a ritual. Edward doesn't come all days, no, there's days Izzy waits expectantly but the man doesn't show up. However Edward always finds a way to come back to Izzy. 

More importantly, always finds excuses to get Izzy's attention and hands on his body. Usually it's just an innocent touch like a hand on his forehead. If Izzy's hand slips and runs his fingers on his hair one else needs to know. The man's magnetic and Izzy's weak. 

After the standard procedures usually Izzy brings whatever he can sneak away from the hospital's kitchen and pretends to be annoyed about whatever idea passes in Edward's head. And he's gotta give it to him, he's a genius. A waste of potential. 

Probably cast away by the scholar system from a young age. Ironically more common than you think. Edward's brain jumps from idea to idea you just had to understand his line of thinking.

Something Izzy's recently discovered is that they've got more in common that one could see. 

Eventually this will end, the unknown is when. Life it's just like that, the turns and twists it makes. You can't outrun fate. Over the years Izzy has learned not to fight it because life will always take what it wants no matter how hard you grip that little thing 

you want to keep. Some part of Edward Teach will always live in his memory. In the stolen moments Izzy decides to silently keep. Something not even life can stole from you. The phrasing is bleak but that's the reality they live in. 

Edward's a drug dealer and Izzy a nurse, he can't protect him from himself even if he wants to.

“ Iz, I've got a surprise for you. ” One night Edward says.

“ A real wound or something I can actually treat? ” Izzy guesses but he can't be so far from the reality. 

“ Cold. Very cold. ” Edward smiles teasing Izzy and gets his hands inside his leather jacket. He turns around and starts working with something. Izzy pretends to ignore the movement of his hands.

“ Get to the point. ” Always the romantic. 

He turns, a wide smile fixed on his face lightning all his features. Edwards hands hide whatever he's so excited to show behind his back. By the look on his face this little battle it's not over. 

There's this times where he understands Edward, he can predict his moves but there's others were he just:

“ Say the word. ” He says, a light tone half laughing.

“ 'm not gonna say it. ” Izzy crosses his arms and leans back on his chair. 

“ C'mon Izzy, say it...” he tries again but the plea is met with a look of disbelief from the nurse. Nothing out of character.

“ No. ” He says even if his will is starting to crumble. Doesn't take much from Edward to melt the ice on Izzy's heart. 

“ C'mon Iz. ” He insists leaning too close to Izzy. His mind automatically supplies that this is a dangerous position with Edwards lips merely inches away. “ Don't you want to know what's behind my back? ” 

“ You want to give me a gift without giving me the gift? ” See here's the part where Izzy tries to resist but Edward always makes him move at his will. Like hands molding clay. 

“ A shame, more gift for me. ” He shrugged and started to pull away. Letting the air fill the space where Edward's lips were. Izzy feels like something is missing the moment Edward retreats.

Instead of dwelling on the feeling he sighs defeated. “ Pretty please Eddie. ” 

“ That's my good boy, see? It's not difficult to be nice.” Before Izzy could jump at him he pulls his hands out of his back. “ Ta-da!” 

Proudly he shows Izzy a little yellow thing. It's a cake, his mind supplies. It's a tiny cake, yellow cover and well cook crust with a candle in the middle. The candle it's way to big to be on that tiny cake. 

“ That's all? ” Izzy asks and kicks himself for the careless question later.

“ Yep. ” Edward remarks the 'p' still proud of the little thing. “ Happy tenth date anniversary. ” 

Izzy looks at the pastry ( too tiny to fit in the definition of cake) as if the sweet just mocked him. The silence stretches form some seconds. He doesn't realise Edward's watching him closely. He didn't realise this all started weeks ago, ten days of attending this man. 

Time has a funny way to make dates feel so close and at the same time so far away.

“ Ya' don't like it? ” His eyes snap up seeing Edward's shy gaze look away packed with doubt. 

“ I don't like sweets. ” That's a lie and Izzy intends to keep that little detail private, thank you.

“ I know that, that's why it's a mini lemon pie.” He pushes the pie closer to Izzy's face. “ See? It's just like you, tinny and biter. ” 

Izzy just rolls his eyes to the side, his face feels too warm not exactly from fever. Tugs at Edward's hoodie and drags him bluntly out of the room without a single word. Edward doesn't fight him. He tries to follow his steps without dropping the cake. 

“ Hey, hey,” he finally asks when Izzy lets himself stops to open the door to the stairs. “ Where are you taking me? ”

There's no panic in his words. Sometimes Edward likes to play it cool, ten days are not enough to build that kind of trust. 

“ I'm guessing you'll want to light the candle I'm taking somewhere you don't make the fire alarms go crazy. ”

They end up in the roof of the hospital. The cold air is welcomed. It's not like they had another choice. From the top of the hospital you could see the vast city. 

All lit up, a center with a white halo of light that faded into orange lots and then the darkness. The roads made the central system of the city cutting and splitting the houses and flats. Most of the windows gone cold, black. From the hospital near the heart of the city. 

It's not quiet because in a city like this it's never quiet but close enough. It's just a distant buzzing of some cars. From up here the city seemed untouchable. Small. 

Izzy felt revitalised. Edward walked and sat on the edge of the roof like a dumb teenager trying to feel some adrenaline. Izzy's never been one of those, he might as well try. No one will look up here.