#shady silhouette

[starry-bi-sky]

i have been unmedicated for the entirety of spring break and thus have had little interest in writing this down, but i have been thinking about this for the entire week (as well as a dpdc clone danny au that resulted in it becoming its entirely separate batman au that includes a teenage vigilante bruce wayne, an ocarina, and me entirely incapable of making a batman au without making bruce dirt poor but we're not talking about that) and so i've finally went 'fuck it' and forcibly grabbed my laptop. I will get this done in one sitting even if it kills me.

BUT. This is about neither clone^2 danny nor about who i am calling Ocarina Batman. This is about my Danyal Al Ghul Au and more SPECIFICALLY it's me thinking about his relationship with Sam and Tucker specifically.

Tucker and Sam? Adore this asshole (affectionate) with every fiber of their being. And it is very much a reciprocated feeling, but Danny's thoughts will not be delved into much other than he would kill for them.

Tucker? The only person currently capable of getting a deep, loud, belly laugh out of Danny. Sam can get him to smile and to laugh, but it's the kind that's a chuckle-under-the-breath. The quiet, looks-down-while-huffing laughter. Snorts once with laughter and then grins stupidly.

But Tucker? Tucker can crack a slew of stupid jokes and Danny will be incapacitated for the next five minutes because he's laughing so hard that he can't breath. He lands one well-timed pun or quip and Danny will be close to tears. His laughter is their favorite sound in the whole world.

Sam is lowkey jealous of this ability, and she's gotten a belly laugh out of Danny a few times. But alas, it is Tucker who wields this power and has gotten it the most times out of the two of them.

-

They're also both physically affectionate with Danny as much as possible. It started roughly around when they were 12-ish, a year since they befriended Danny, and they noticed that he sought after touch but never seemed to initiate (and was in some ways repulsed by it). They started slowly being more touchy with him. Hooking a finger around his to lead him somewhere, tapping his wrist, looping arms. Little touches, grabs, etc, to get him used to it, and once he started doing it back they started increasing it.

It's gotten to a point where he will now just. Lay on them. Like a lizard sunbathing on a rock. Leaning on their backs when they're sitting in class before the bell rings, his chin on their heads. He'll talk about anything with his arms looped around their shoulders.

If they're sitting on a couch at either of their houses, he'll lay his legs on theirs. Him and Tucker will press their feet against the other's and try and push against them (newsflash: Danny always wins, Tucker claims its the ghost strength but Danny's been winning since before his accident)

-

Naturally, both Sam and Tucker know where Danny keeps his weapons on his person, and are allowed to grab them off of him if they need it. His only requirement is that they don't lose his weapons if they take it and forget to return it immediately.

They both understand how big of a thing this is from Danny, and so they do their best to treat his weapons with a lot of respect and care because they know its his way of saying he trusts them.

-

Sam and Tucker are so fond of Danny it's insane. Like fr. That's their goddamn best friend, and they are so protective of him. Emotionally, physically, you name it. They will tear the head off a grown man if they need to, Danny's had scars since he arrived in Amity Park and Sam and Tucker both are going to find the person who put them there and make them pay for it.

One time, Tucker overheard a bunch of upperclass girls speaking nastily about Danny and about the rumors surrounding him, calling him names like 'freak', 'monster', etc. Danny was with him and heard it, and seemingly appeared unbothered by it, even telling Tucker that he was used to such rumors.

Tucker was so furious that hacked into the school system later that night and tanked those girls grades. They were kicked out of their clubs and had to go to mandatory tutoring for the rest of the year. He made sure to leave some way of letting them know it was him who did it.

And Sam doesn't like using her money for things, doesn't like abusing that wealth. So instead, whenever her parents talk bad about Danny, she causes a media incident that has her parents scrambling to deal with. She does something wild, outrageous by her parents' standards.

She heard some boys on the basketball team making fun of Danny once, similar to those girls had. She kicks up a fuss about something eco-unfriendly at school and forcibly holds a protest on the same day of the big home basketball game, forcing them to cancel the event and reschedule to a visiting school.

She anonymously donates money so that there's new uniforms for the team but oops! Looks like she "forgot" to donate enough money for them to get uniforms for all the team members, and strangely enough those boys in particular didn't get them! Looks like they'll have to wait until more money gets donated for the basketball team to get their new, nice uniforms. The old ones look so ratty in comparison, right?

And since the football team gets most of the sport money, that might just take awhile. And if (and when) they kick up a fuss? oops! Off the basketball team you go, :) such unsportsman-like behavior is unfit for the team.

(The only good thing about how corrupt the school system is is that she can use it to her advantage too.)

The both of them know that Danny suspects them for the sudden misfortune falling on these people, but he doesn't call them out on it. He's kinder than he used to be, but not kind enough to vouch for people who speak badly of him. Sometimes, he might just congratulate them on not getting caught.

Because Danny is their wonderful, hurt friend with a "slightly" Blue and Orange Moral code, and enough scars that people have been calling him a criminal (and worse) since he arrived in Amity Park when he was ten. And they'll be damned if he gets hurt anymore.

[aot-brainrot-my-beloved]

I never noticed that but in "the afterlife" scene where Hange meets other fallen comrades, Sasha stands right next to Shadis, which is so funny since she was always so scared of him 😭

I guess maybe they had time to talk about everything, or Shadis saw how much Sasha has changed over the years, idk but this is kinda sweet ngl 😭❤️

[itiswritteninthestarsabove]

[illyrianbitch]

Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths — Part Three

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: depictions of physical injuries, alcohol use, mention of drugs, Rhysand being a condescending prick, reader being shady

Word Count: 5.5k

← Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Your nose was broken.

This you were sure of. So was your right leg. And your arm.

Your father was a thorough, thorough man.

There was a nauseating metallic taste in your mouth, a darkening in your vision. You couldn't see much. Eyes too fat, too swollen. Your mouth wasn't any better. Busted, bruised. You couldn't make out the silhouette in front of you--- but you smelled her.

"You shouldn't be here," Evadne said. "Why did you come back?"

You felt her hands on you, tender and soft, examining you, assessing the best way to help. Her hands were warm against your cold skin.

“For you,” you whispered. Your voice is ragged, broken. You weren't sure how you managed to speak. You continued. “I couldn't leave you.”

A heavy sigh. Her arms wrapped around you. A flickering sense of pain spreading throughout your body. You slumped against her.

"That heart of yours will get you killed," she murmured softly.

A cough. Liquid trickled from your lips. The taste of iron flooded your mouth. Blood. You leaned against her, heartbeat in your ears.

“Then I’m already dead.”

“Gods, you look like hell.”

You groaned, slowly lifting yourself up from your sprawled-out position on the worn leather couch. As you blinked away the remnants of sleep, your eyes struggled to adjust to the harsh glow of the day, slowly leaking in through the opened windows— Evadne’s work, you assumed. They were closed last you remembered.

Lifting your hand to shield your eyes, your gaze settled on your best friend who stood over you with her arms crossed over her chest, brows furrowed as she stared down at you.

“Did you sleep on your couch all night?”

Your eyes shuttered as you let your hand fall back down, a deep sense of exhaustion settling heavily upon you. “Maybe,” you said, your voice hoarse. “Yes.”

With a gentle shuffle, Evadne made her way around the piece of furniture, her footsteps muffled against the worn carpet. She tapped lightly at your legs, silently urging you to make room as she settled herself beside you. You complied, maneuvering yourself into an upright position as she took her place at your side.

Her brows furrowed, gaze sweeping over your disheveled appearance. She leaned in, soon pulling away with her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Did you drink a whole damn bar?”

It had only been a few days since Rhysand and Azriel visited you, a few days since you’d practically sold them out to your father. You couldn’t sleep, your mind plagued by visions of your family — of Azriel. At first, you welcomed them, embracing them as a refuge from your normal nightmares. But soon, those new images became worse, more volatile, more painful. You let out a sigh, slowly turning your head to look at Evadne.

“I had no mirthroot left.”

“Y/n.” She widened her eyes. “I just gave you that. It’s supposed to last you weeks.”

“Well, I’ve been under a lot of stress recently,” you retorted. Your tone was sharper than you intended, the stress of your situation festering into a reactionary annoyance. She let out a small sigh and a sense of guilt chewed at you for your flippant response. You deflated.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I’m just on edge. I don’t mean to snap at you.”

Evadne shook her head gently. There was a moment of silence as she looked you over.

"How do we live in a city of decay and you're still the most depressing thing I've seen today?"

There was a glint of amusement in her dark brown eyes.

“Bite me,” you shot back, managing a weak smile in spite of yourself. The corners of your lips twitched upwards as you looked at her. A second passed. You both let out a small laugh.

Evadne had this effect on you, the ability to make you feel like you were in your body again, like your anger wasn’t consuming you the way you always felt it was. Headstrong, funny, kind… she was all the things you wanted to be – all the things your sister was, once upon a time.

Her smile softened into a smaller, more gentle expression. "Do you wanna talk about it?" she asked, her voice filled with a genuine care that made you want to cry— out of desperation, if anything. Out of a longing to be freed of the worries that now plagued you.

You shook your head. You didn’t have to look in a mirror to see what Evadne was worried about, to know why her eyes kept carefully scanning your face. The impact of everything, the lack of sleep, the stress, the alcohol, the mirthroot, it was all no doubt evident in every line etched into your face, in your sluggish movements.

“It’s all falling apart.”

“No,” she replied. “We planned for some complications.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and empty in the quiet of the room. “Yeah, complications, not my nosy cousin and an even nosier spymaster,” you grumbled bitterly.

Evadne fixed you with a pointed look. “So we’re refusing to even say names now?”

You shot her a glare, annoyance boiling up inside you. The feeling quickly simmered when you met her gaze, patient and unwavering. It had gotten worse recently, your ability to keep your emotions in check. It was all the stress, all of this faith being put in you. It was smothering you. But you couldn’t admit it– after all, you’d brought it on yourself. Eventually, you let out a weary sigh, feeling the fight drain out of you as you slumped against the worn cushions of the couch.

"Fine," you muttered, the resignation evident in your voice. "We didn’t plan for Rhysand and Azriel."

Evadne mirrored you, falling back further into the couch. “Maybe it's time,” she said with a simple shrug.

You frowned, looking at her with knitted brows. “Time for what?”

“To confront that past of yours.”

Your reaction was instant, your body shooting upright, pointed and stiff. You rose from the couch, taking a moment to gather your thoughts.

“No,” you said sternly, turning around to look down at her. There was a deep sense of anger churning in your stomach, a sense of betrayal that had been unearthed from the depths of your being—you didn’t want to dwell on it, didn’t want to go deep diving into the black hole that was your family history.

Evadne didn’t back down, though, blinking slowly. She met your gaze with a calm resolve, eyebrows lifted ever so slightly as if she had anticipated your reaction, as if she viewed it as nothing more than a momentary outburst– a child throwing a tantrum. “Y/n,” she began.

“No,” You said again, your voice firm and resolute. “There's nothing I need to confront," you threw the word back at her emphasizing it with a shake of your head. "Don't treat me like I'm some child."

Evadne let out a heavy sigh, a sense of frustration rolling through her body as her shoulders sagged. She shook her head slightly. "Y/n," she began, "I'm not treating you like some child."

With a fluid motion, she rose from her seat, her movements graceful, purposeful. Meeting your gaze, she continued, "I've never seen you so rattled." She paused for a moment. "And you've dealt with a lot worse than two pretty boys."

You stood there, unmoving, lips pressed together into a thin line, your eyes fixed on the worn floorboards beneath your feet. With a subtle tilt of her head, Evadne attempted to catch your lowered gaze, her own expression still soft, still determined.

"This anger," she began, as you lifted your eyes to meet hers. She furrowed her brows, a flicker of sadness passing through her eyes, she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your anger, it is killing you."

With a small exhale, you shook your head, a tightness in your jaw evident as you clenched your teeth. "No," you asserted, the word resonating with a sense of defiance. "It's fueling me." Your eyes bore into hers.

Evadne didn’t move, didn’t look away. Instead, she simply tilted her head, reaching forward to grab your hands in hers. The crease in her eyebrows deepened. “It is still killing you all the same.”

You stilled, your face falling at her words. She was right. She usually was. You’d spent so long harboring your grudges, holding onto them at night like they were warm bodies, like they were things that could comfort you, fill the holes of the people they used to be. But the grudges only made you bitter, made you angry— and you were the only person that felt that anger. Not them. Never them.

You looked down, your gaze falling to where her hands gently held yours. It was then you caught a glimpse of her arms under the long sleeves of her dress, wrists decorated with a plethora of gold bangles. You tilted your head, taking in the glimmering sheen of the metals. Evadne loved her jewelry— loved her gold. It made her feel like a queen, she had told you once, reminded her of her worth. But she was always very careful about parading such shiny things around. Shiny things were noticed in a city of gloom. Shiny things got you hurt.

You pulled her hands up to eye level, a fast and swift motion that had her letting out a small gasp, your name falling from her lips in protest. You ignored it, fingers pulling up her sleeve, pushing the bangles up her arm.

A surge of icy rage flooded through you, coursing through your veins like a bitter chill. The feeling mingled with a fiery anger that simmered in your stomach, a volatile concoction that left you breathless, left you seeing red. Clenching your jaw tightly, you lifted your gaze to meet Evadne's.

“I’ll kill him.”

She looked at you for a moment, holding your intense gaze. Her eyes then flickered down and she gently pulled her hands away from you. She observed them for a moment, the dark bruises that marred her delicate wrists, stark against the golden hue of her skin. Then, she carefully slid her bracelets to their original position, pulling down her sleeves to cover any evidence of her hurt.

“No,” she said calmly, “But I will, one day. Like we’ve planned.”

"Evadne..."

You looked at her, taking in the beauty of her features, illuminated by the soft glow filtering through the windows. She was beautiful, so beautiful. And she was trapped here, in this city of filth, of ruin. You imagined a different future for her, a future where she lived in a place full of life— a place in the Day Court, perhaps, filled with sunshine and fresh air. A life where she could wear jewelry for the sake of their beauty, where she could be treated like a queen. A life that she deserved. Another wave of rage hit you. Evadne noticed, instantly leaning in to catch your eyesight.

"Y/n, It’s okay," Her voice was calm, collected. She reached out, her hand resting gently on your arm. "You keep your family busy. I’ll stick with the plan."

You nodded your head slowly, taking a deep breath as the fiery storm of rage slowly subsided within you. "Okay, I can do that," you said, "Are you sure?"

You searched Evadne's eyes for any sign of doubt. But all you found was an unwavering resolve, a fierce determination mirrored in her gaze. She smiled, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Yes, I’m sure. We just need to buy time.”

Your fingers trembled slightly as you anxiously ran a hand through your hair, your head still nodding at her words. You made your way across the room to where your liquor collection sat, the bottles gleaming in the light.

“How many do you think we have for tonight?” You asked, throwing the question over your shoulder. You heard her let out a small breath, footsteps following as she walked towards you.

"Not a lot,” she admitted. “Less than half.”

You let out a sigh, the tension in your muscles releasing slightly as you poured yourself a drink. The amber liquid flowed smoothly into the glass.

“They’re scared. Rhysand visiting is enough to unnerve them, but visiting you?”

“I know.” You felt a sense of guilt nag at you, tightening your stomach. You grabbed the crystal class in your hands turning to face Evadne. She glanced at you, then at your glass, and frowned.

“Are you sure you’re okay for tonight?” you asked her, your gaze momentarily falling down to where she held her hands together.

She met your eyes with a flat look. "Of course I am,” she responded. “I always am.”

You wanted to press further, to ask what else her golden dress was concealing, what else he had done to her, but you held your tongue, storing away your anger for when it would be useful, for when it could be power.

There was a thickness in your throat that wouldn’t move. Instead of replying, you lifted your brows at her, pulling your cup to your lips. Evadne moved before you could blink, grabbing the cup from your hands.

“What the hell?” You asked with a pinched expression. She merely stared at you, head tilted, eyes narrowed.

“They need a leader tonight, not a drunk," she asserted, her gaze steady upon you.

You met her eyes with a tightening of your jaw, a subtle crease forming between your brows. "Fine," you muttered, begrudgingly.

Without hesitation, Evadne downed the cup’s contents before placing it back in your hands. "Pull yourself together," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. You kept her gaze for a moment, and then her eyes were softening, her lips curving upwards, corners of her mouth lifting in a tender yet somber expression.

“They are not worth you falling apart."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was dark when you returned home, your cloak hanging heavily on your shoulders. Your limbs protested with every step, heavy and achy, beads of sweat along your brow. Tonight had given you a release, a time to channel all your energy into something useful. But even then, there were too many things to think about, too many new factors to take into account. It exhausted you— your mind had never been so active, so anxious. You let out a defeated sigh as you opened the door.

You paused in the doorway, your heart stiffening at the sight of him, all fatigue momentarily forgotten. You were too caught up in your thoughts, too distracted to notice the other presence in your home, the other scent that filled it.

Rhysand’s gaze fixed expectantly on you, sitting in a chair that faced the entrance of your home. There was an eerily calm sense to him, an unnerving comfort in his body language. If you didn’t know him, if you weren’t aware of your relationship, you could've mistaken him for a man in the comfort of his own home, sitting at his own table.

You looked at him for a moment, taking in his appearance— a picture of regal confidence, a relaxed posture that was still commanding, still poised. He was alone tonight, no figures hidden in darkness, no smooth slithering of shadows. Azriel wasn’t with him. There was a squeeze in your stomach.

"Do you ever knock?" you spat, your voice sharp with irritation as you closed the door behind you with a forceful thud.

He remained unphased by your display of frustration, watching as you moved across the room, settling to lean against the backside of your couch. You crossed your arms, glaring at him.

"I did," he replied, his voice smooth and unruffled. "You weren't home."

With a sharp exhale, you scoffed, the sound laced with annoyance. Every second spent facing him filled you with an itching irritation, an anger that seeped through your skin. Deep in the back of your mind, an aching appeared– a tiny part of you that longed for his company, that craved for some resolution. You shoved it away, breaking it apart into pieces.

"So what? You just let yourself in?"

"Yes," he replied, his tone nonchalant. "I didn't want to wait outside. It's dangerous. You should really find a new place to live."

The condensation in his tone flowed out smoothly, a habit that almost appeared like second nature. His casual demeanor only fueled your irritation, each word he spoke like a taunt– pompous, arrogant, asshole. You tightened your arms together.

"Did you have a reason for coming here, Rhysand?" you snarled, the words punctuated by a simmering rage. There was a clear disdain in your voice, pointed and sharp. "Or do you just find pleasure in being an arrogant prick?"

Rhysand's facade of confidence faltered for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he composed himself once more. His shoulders sagged slightly, a movement so small you almost missed it. The air of authority around him diminished— as if he was transitioning from High Lord to something else, something smaller. He blinked, and then he let out a sigh.

"You're right. I'm so-" he began, but then stopped abruptly. You felt a prickling sensation crawl up your spine. There was a brief pause as Rhysand scanned you, his eyes falling from your head to your toes as he took in your appearance– sweat-dampened leathers, a cloak draped haphazardly over your shoulders. Your heart thudded anxiously in your chest. Rhys met your gaze once more, his brows furrowed now– in confusion, curiosity, or suspicion, you couldn’t tell. It unnerved you.

"Where were you?" he asked.

You felt a surge of defensiveness rise within you.

"I wasn't aware I needed to report my extracurricular activities to High Lords who break into homes," you shot back, the words dripping with sarcasm. You took a moment to break away from your outer layer, quickly throwing the cloth on the couch behind you.

Rhysand remained rooted in his seat, his posture stiffening before he eased back into the chair with a sigh. His movements were deliberate, calculated, betraying a sense of resignation beneath his surface. As he spoke, his hand gestured towards you.

"Is this really how it's going to be, Y/n?" he questioned, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. "We don’t have to be uncivilized."

Your initial shock dissolved into a burst of incredulous laughter, your mouth falling open in disbelief. "You storm into my home uninvited– twice may I add," you emphasized, your voice rising slightly, "and then call me uncivil when I refuse to drop everything for you?"

Rhysand's tone shifted, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, please, Y/n," he said, "I didn't ask you to drop everything. I asked you to hear me out and you wouldn’t even do that."

His audacity cut into you like sharp knives. You almost winced at his tone; so condescending, so arrogant. It was hard to look at him, to attempt to find the boy that you used to know. Rhysand, your cousin Rhysand, would have hated the prick standing in front of you– would have despised his superiority complex. The thought made you sad— but only for a moment. It quickly faded.

"Has being a High Lord truly given you such a lack of class?" you challenged, your voice rising with indignation. You didn’t bother to hide your contempt, didn’t bother to collect yourself. "How dare you think I owe you anything, even the time of day?"

Rhysand met your gaze, violet eyes burning into yours. They were darker now than they were years ago, more fury in them. More broken.

"We are family, Y/n. I would think it's the least you owe me."

You recoiled at his words, a bitterness rising in your throat like bile. You’d spent so many of your days reminding yourself that your family didn’t care, spent so many nights wishing that they did. Here, sitting in front of you, was proof that the former was correct. You were only their 'family' when it was convenient for them— and you hadn't been convenient for centuries.

"There you go, using that word again like it should mean something.”

You were clenching your jaw so hard you could have sworn it was going to break, that a tooth would snap– that you would snap. Rhysand didn’t back down.

"It should," he insisted, his voice steady.

"It doesn't."

Your voice was cold and unyielding, to a point where Rhysand felt a wave of discomfort come over him. His jaw ticked and he let out a deep sigh, his chin falling slightly. There was a clear frustration in his body as he leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and bringing a hand to his face. His fingers settled under his chin while the other hovered near his lips as he shook his head. A moment passed as you watched him, and then he turned to look at you again, his hand falling flat on the table.

"I don’t understand you, Y/n,” he said, “I just- I don’t understand.”

Because you’ve never made an effort to. The exhaustion on his face, the frustration that you could see– even smell, it made your stomach sink. The anger in your body felt like something else, like sadness, like grief. Maybe Evadne overestimated you, maybe you couldn’t handle being around your family. If being around Rhysand made you this emotional, you didn’t want to think about what it would be like to face all of them, to report to them.

"It shouldn't take you over 500 years to understand that people don't owe you anything," you stated, pushing yourself off the couch. You walked towards the front door of your home, reaching it as you spoke, "Get out of my home."

Rhysand's voice faltered, his expression softening with a touch of desperation. "Wait, Y/n, wait,” he said as he stood up.

There was a tinge of desperation in his voice, something you were sure he didn’t realize was showing. Maybe you recognized it because, once upon a time, you had known him– truly known him. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of that familial bond. Or, maybe, Rhysand was faltering in your presence because for the first time, he wasn’t being feared.

If Rhys was struggling to keep a calm facade, there was something deeply wrong going on — something with you, or something outside of this city. You thought back to his words from before, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. You furrowed your brows, eyes settling on him with a scrutinous gaze.

"Why do you need my help so bad?"

Rhysand hesitated for a moment before responding, his words measured. "I told you. There are rumors about an u—"

"An uprising. Yes, I remember," you interjected, cutting him off.

Rhysand's brows furrowed, his patience wearing thin as he searched your face for any hint of relenting. He found none. “Then why are you asking me?”

You met his gaze head-on. "Because there are always rumors here," you repeated, emphasizing each word with a pointed stare. "And every time, you, and now Feyre, swoop in to quash them with a well-timed visit, a show of power. So forgive me if I find it curious that this time, you're suddenly in need of my assistance."

A flicker of frustration crossed Rhysand's features, his jaw clenching briefly before he regained his composure. "Our methods may have been effective in the past," he conceded, "but this situation requires a more delicate touch."

There was no evidence of regret in his tone, no acknowledgement of the fear-mongering that he used with his people. You weren’t sure why you expected it, why you looked for it. Of course Rhysand wouldn’t show signs of guilt regarding his treatment of Hewn City. Why would he? He didn’t feel guilty, at all.

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And what exactly makes this situation so different?"

Rhysand's expression tightened at your insistence, his eyes darting away momentarily before meeting yours once more. "Nothing you have to concern yourself with," he hedged, his tone cautious.

There it was again, the sense of audacity he held, the superiority he wore like a cloak. There was something in his tone, in the way he spoke to you, that made you feel small, foolish. You hated it.

You narrowed your eyes, a sense of frustration bubbling within you. "If I'm going to stick my neck out for you, and potentially betray my people, I need to know why.”

Rhysand's discomfort flashed across his features. His lips parted, emitting a breathy laugh tinged with disbelief. "Your people," he repeated, a hint of mockery lacing his tone, as if the very idea amused him.

"Yes. My people.”

Rhysand's jaw tightened visibly. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he relented. "Koschei.”

You blinked.

Koschei, Koschei.

You recognized the name, memories of childhood tales flooding your mind. Koschei was a name thrown around, starring in stories whispered by mothers to keep their children in line, to warn them of the consequences of misbehaving. But you knew better– all adults did. Koschei wasn’t a real threat, he was somewhere far, somewhere unreachable.

However, the look on Rhysand's face told a different story—a story of genuine fear, of a threat far more tangible than mere folklore. The mighty High Lord of the Night Court was worried, on edge. It filled you with a sense of dread that momentarily wiped away any sadness, any anger. "Koschei?" you repeated, the name feeling heavy on your tongue

"He is taking steps to free himself," Rhysand said, "I'm working to ensure that doesn't happen."

You eyed him cautiously, scanning him for any sign of deceit. You found none. He took your silence as an invitation to keep talking, to explain further.

"That means I do not have time to sift around this city and find the origins of these rumors– to waste time discerning if they are legitimate.”

You paused for a moment, your mind racing now. Perhaps this was a stroke of luck. Koschei's looming threat could align perfectly with what you needed. You needed Rhysand distracted, needed him vulnerable enough for your father— needed your father to be vulnerable enough for you. Surely, Koschei wouldn’t be a lingering threat. Rhysand was right, it wasn’t something you needed to concern yourself with. Keep them busy, Evadne had said.

"Isn't this Azriel's specialty?" you asked, "The feared Spymaster?"

A tick in Rhysand’s jaw.

"Azriel's reach is limited," he explained. "These rumors may be quiet, but they are there."

He needed someone who wouldn’t call attention. Someone who knew how to work this city. Someone like you.

”Where is your guard dog, anyway?”

The words slipped out of your mouth before you had a chance to catch them. Rhysand stiffened at the question. He bit down the anger that formed in his throat.

”I thought it would be best to come alone.” He shifted on his feet. "In truth, my intentions were to come and offer an apology," he confessed, his voice carrying a weight you hadn't anticipated. Meeting his gaze, you found a flicker of vulnerability in the violet of his eyes, a softening in his features.

You weren’t sure if you should feel angry or touched. It certainly seemed like Rhysand expected the latter, his brows slightly furrowed, awaiting your response. But, instead, your reaction was disbelief, almost scoffing at his attempt at reconciliation. His intrusion into your home, his condescending demeanor, all of it burned into your skin. "Certainly didn't feel like one," you remarked, a bitterness lacing your words.

"I know,” he admitted, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I shouldn’t have approached the situation in the manner that I did. I apologize.”

His voice was genuine, filled with remorse— its presence was fainter that you would have hoped for, but it was there. Noticeable. While you appreciated the gesture, and your heart held onto the regret he showed, you said nothing in response, not wanting to give him the clear forgiveness he was hoping for.

“So, I’m coming to you again, properly. We need your help.” A pause. “I need your help.”

You sighed, running your tongue along your teeth. "Fine,” you relented, “What do I have to do?"

Rhysand visibly relaxed, a wave of relief washing over him. Then, he straightened his posture, dusting off his shoulders before he began walking towards you, towards the door. "Azriel will come to you. You both can work from there.”

The name made your stomach drop, and your eyes widened in response, brows furrowing.

"Azriel?"

Rhysand paused mid-stride, his gaze locking with yours. "Yes," he said, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. "You said it yourself, this is his territory."

The crease between your brows deepened as you frowned.

"And you said he was unable to work with it. That's why you need me.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes, scanning over your face before letting out a small breath.

"We do need you,” he replied, “To work alongside Azriel."

Your stomach clenched further. To work alongside Azriel. Azriel, Azriel, Azriel.

“You didn’t say anything about working with Azriel.”

Rhysands eyebrows fell as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Will that be a problem?”

Anger simmered beneath your skin. Rhysand's insistence on involving Azriel was a direct affront to your capabilities, a direct showing of distrust. You knew, logically, that you weren’t allowed to be so angry– he shouldn’t trust you. But the reality of it, a clear reminder of how far you’d drifted, hurt in a way you couldn’t ignore.

“Yes,” you responded, your voice firm, “I don’t need someone watching over me.”

He let out a deep sigh, his face scrunching in with annoyance.

“That is not wha-”

“Oh, please,” you replied, “It’s definitely part of it. You don’t trust me.”

Rhysand didn’t reply, didn’t even acknowledge your words. Instead he simply shrugged. The nonchalance of his movement only added fuel to the fire, and you clenched your jaw to suppress the rising frustration.

"Azriel is our court’s Spymaster. He knows what needs to be done," he stated dismissively.

A surge of frustration rose within you. The room felt stifling, suffocating. You could keep them busy, could work with Rhysand distracted, with him worried about Koschei. But having Azriel around, a looming presence, someone overseeing you, would make things more complicated. And it was Azriel. Even the thought of it made you feel sick, nausea forming from the mix of emotions in your chest.

Silence enveloped the room like a heavy fog. You remained still– jaw clenched, eyes still on Rhysand as he walked past you, hand reaching for the door. He stopped, falling still in his place. Then, he looked at you. The expression on his face wasn’t one you were familiar with– it seemed like one he used to wear when you knew him, a softer version of himself. Kind.

"I'm sorry about Caladan.”

It hit you like a punch to the gut. You weren’t sure what hit you harder, the apology, laced with a deep sincerity you hadn’t expected, or Caladan’s name– on Rhys’ lips, of all people. You hadn’t heard his name in so long; Evadne was always so careful. It was a pain you thought you had grown accustomed to, buried beneath layers of duty and obligation. But it was resurfacing, rising with a raw intensity that left your chest tight.

For a fleeting moment, you felt the urge to lash out, to reject Rhysand’s words and the sympathy they carried. But beneath the anger and resentment, there was a small flicker of something else— of gratitude. With a heavy heart, you met Rhysand's gaze. You couldn't move, couldn't speak.

"I meant to give you my condolences when I first came." Rhysand’s voice was soft. “I know he was special to you. I should have reached out when I heard."

Green eyes. “This is good, Y/n,” he smiled at you, a dimpled, soft smile. “It’s all coming together.”

You blinked the image away. After a beat of silence, you nodded slowly. "Thank you," you murmured. The anger was still there, the bitterness towards Rhysand, towards your family. But you accepted his words, letting them ease some of the sizzling resentment.

Rhysand bowed his head in acknowledgment. With one final glance, he turned and left.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: guys i promise after this azzy will be in every chapter. now we begin the angsty forced proximity trope that i LOVEEE 🫶🏻🫶🏻

(i’m prewriting chapters rn so lemme know if there’s anything you’d love to see👀👀 always open to ideas)

taglist:

@kalulakunundrum  @janebirkln @thelov3lybookworm @secretlyhers @nightcourt-daydreaming @sidthedollface2 @gorlillaglue25 @abysshaven @historygeekqueen @acourtofbatboydreams @justdreamstars @darling006 @inloveallthetime @dr4g0ngirl @makeagoodnamethen @kht1998  @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @rhysandorian @llovelydove @minnieoo @cassianswh0reeee @anuttellaa @hnyclover @sfhsgrad-blog @carlandonorri-s @gingerblood @inesven @emptyporsche @itsswritten @tele86

[sirenscriptures]

𐚁๋࣭⭑ PISTOLWHIPPED ! ₊˚⊹ 𓂃 boothill x burlesque dancer ! reader.

✧‧₊˚. before reading: fem ! reader. partial strangers to lovers. use of pet names (e.g. babydoll, dolly, princess) mutual teasing. groping. thighriding. mentions of exhibitionism. mirror sex. biting. some jealous (?) boothill.

࣪✩₊˚ notes: i can’t get cowboys out of my head and mr. boothill didn’t help at all since i’ve gotten back into hsr. he is entirely to blame for this and not me btw.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ 18+ only. minors and blank/empty blogs do not interact.

the brisk journey back to your dressing room felt much different tonight.

even in holding your breath against the thick haze of perfumes and artificial cigarette smoke that filled the dim hallway that you hurried through, your stripped away lace from onstage held in a bundle against your chest, you could feel something fresh within you swirling madly.

in passing the blurred yet familiar faces of your colleagues, there were kind eyes and warm smiles greeting you, as well as the praises and exclamations of admiration, pride, and aphrodisia being tossed at you like the shower of roses after one of your many performances.

you could only manage a smile and a few out of breath expressions of gratitude as you slipped quickly into your dressing room, promptly locking the door behind you.

even in the solitude that now enveloped you in the familiar, decorative walls, you could still feel the sensation within you. even with the ever-growing nightlife just behind the door at your back, you could feel it ready to burst forth into the stillness—like a mess of beautiful new paints onto a mew, blank canvas.

glancing into your mirror, it was completely obvious how much you were glowing. your skin looked smooth and vibrant, eyes filled with a newfound radiance. the mesh bodysuit that created the illusion of nudity perfectly framed your shape, making heads turn even at the sight of your mere silhouette cast on the wall.

with your job heavily relying on appealing to the audience with both your movements and looks, it could become easily draining to become so tangled within the ever-changing thoughts and opinions of others. there was a certain mindset that not many others possessed to work in such a place as this, and it did not come easy, not even for yourself at times.

though after a night such as this, you couldn’t help but marvel at what you saw in the mirror. and this time, it really had nothing to do with everyone else's response to your performance, though it certainly contributed to how good you felt now.

with how ecstatic you felt here in your dressing room, it was hard to believe that just a few hours ago you were the opposite. it’d felt like such a long time since the tavern had seen a night this busy. not only that, but the fact your performance was the headliner of the night with a crowd of this size certainly didn’t exactly ease the usual backstage anxiety.

as usual, all of your fiery nerves seemed to dissolve away as soon as you stepped out onto that stage. it seemed that with each lacy piece of clothing that fell from your body before the gawking and applauding audience, the more your worries fell into nothingness. every negative sensation seemed to seep even more into your confidence, making you even more adventurous with each movement.

though it all seemed a blur now as you removed your makeup, there was one handsome stranger that you couldn’t keep your eyes from the entire time. ironic, since you were the one people paid to ogle at all night.

far in the corner, almost completely obscured by the shadows of other audience members, a somewhat shady cowboy sat with his feet propped onto the table, hat only partially tipped in front of his eyes. his hair was wild yet kept, jet black, far past his shoulders.

even in the dim light, you could spot the flashy glint of the metal spurs on his boots. though your performance demanded more of your focus, your eyes couldn’t help but trail up his slender figure to his half-covered face to spot an all too familiar smirk.

the more you thought about it, the more that you realized this really wasn’t a stranger at all.

in the weeks of your prior performances, his silhouette seemed to take a permanent residence seated in that very same corner. though trying to fully recollect every night you’d seen him there was a blurry mess, you knew he only stayed to see you, and only you onstage. for after everytime you were finished and the curtain had closed, the far corner was empty, as if he were never there.

well, except one other time.

though the interaction itself was limited for words, you could feel something about this man when just standing in front of him. you were only just a bit shorter than him, yet it felt like there was a massive figure looming over you, especially when getting to see those eyes so up close for the first time.

his voice was sweet, though keeping his message to you short, only asking for confirmation of your name. nodding and giving him a welcoming smile, his closing gesture was simply to hand you a sizable bouquet of glittery red roses.

before you could even manage to chirp out a syllable of your gratitude, he’d already vanished. but that wasn’t all he left you with that night. it didn’t take you long to find the small note that was nestled within the stems:

let me stop by your dressing room next week. been dying to meet such a pretty lady.

– B.H.

boothill. the name combined with his handwritten letter had been stuck on your mind for days. even now, the image of his flirty smile was burned so clearly into your mind. those dark eyes being so fixated on you for weeks at a time was enough to make the heat rise within your cheeks.

from what you knew of him, he was a perfect mix of mystery and foolery; an attitude often dancing in between the lines of impending and satiric. he could be loud and wild one moment, the protagonist of the room, and like a passing shadow amongst the same sea of faces the next.

but when he watched you on that stage—he swore he’d never been so still in his life. even you could sense it too. a man constantly on the run as an outlaw who always stopped to give you his full attention? not any other performer in the tavern got even a mere glance from him. but you? even if it wasn’t fully true, or if you were remembering things differently in the thick haze of all of the audience's praises and sweet-scented cigarette smoke, the thought of it made you admittedly a bit giddy.

while your thoughts continued to spiral, you changed into the comfortable set of lacy nightwear that you usually wore after a night of work. it wasn’t quite lingerie, but it certainly wasn’t something you’d wear to a formal dinner.

you could only take one more look in the mirror before there was a knock on the door. slowly, the same shaky sensations from before crept up within your lower stomach. the mesh of both nervousness and excitement seemed to increase within you as you raked your fingers through your hair one final time in the mirror before approaching the door.

pulling it open, you felt the corners of your lips being tugged into a smile as you were met with those same eyes. as usual, he was dressed head to toe in black. the jacket over his shoulders was studded in flashy spikes as well as scarlet thorned floral patterns on the sides. the same design went for his pants and boots.

he smiled back, silver pupils focusing on you. behind him, you could hear the faint sound of live music playing in the distant room of the main stage.

“may i come in?” you couldn’t help but feel he sounded a bit silly trying to sound so formal with that drawl of his.

“of course.” you replied, stepping aside to allow him entrance.

even the way he walked, at least to you, showed a little glimpse of how slick he was. not only could he charm anyone he wanted that was in range at his mercy, but he could also slip away into the night if he needed to run.

he seated himself in the chair next to your vanity, eyes still scanning you in all of your glory.

“my my, she’s even prettier without all the glitz ‘n glam.” he marveled, unable to rip his gaze away from your bare face.

you felt the same flutter in your chest as you did from when you first met for the first time. but even with someone like boothill, you knew better. it wasn’t so easy for you to trust someone so blindly, even when it came to smaller interactions. you wanted to tread lightly, but there was still that somewhat sensation that was tugging at you through your lower stomach.

standing only a few feet away from him, you put a hand on your hip, eyebrow raised. “you don’t have to talk about me like i’m not in the room, boothill.”

he put his hands up after letting out a chuckle, leaning back slightly into the chair.

“apologies, pretty lady.” you noticed his eyes scanning you before narrowing back into your gaze that practically lasered into him.

he removed his hat, the mix of dark and light strands falling around his face as he ran his fingers through it.

“you’re just too gorgeous not to talk about.” he remarked with a wink, arm resting on your vanity where he placed down his hat.

doing your best to ignore the heat slowly rising within your face, you stepped slightly closer to him. you kept your demeanor firm, yet there was a part of you that just wanted to melt into his sweet talking completely.

your hand was only inches away from his own as you leaned against the vanity, looking down at him now.

“that’s all nice talk but…really, what did you come here for?” you asked straight out, hoping you didn’t sound too demanding.

he blinked up at you, a few beats of silence filled with the faint music from the outside stretched out between you both.

boothill cleared his throat, the same smile laced across his lips revealing razor-sharp teeth. “well, after seein’ you so many times on that stage, i figured i’d get to know you on a more personal level.”

you weren’t sure why, but his answer didn’t feel completely truthful. being in this business, there were probably hundreds of people who could’ve had the same surface-level answer. and for some reason boothill didn’t exactly blend in with that crowd of people.

sure, he had a way of not being noticed at first. the man was talented at getting away with a lot, and getting out of being the center of attention was one of them. but to you, even in your very brief and limited meetings so far, you could tell there was so much more to him than that.

your eyes gestured to the shimmery bouquet of roses from last week that rested against the mirror. “something tells me there’s more to it than that.”

he cocked his head at you, looking almost genuinely puzzled. “come again?”

you can’t help but giggle, giving him a playful look.

“that can’t be the only reason.” you murmur, moving close enough to where you both are almost touching. “no one comes to a show like this as much as you do just to get to know me.”

you can’t fully read his expression, but you can glimpse it changing slowly the closer you move to him. it may have been something else, but you swore you could hear a muted yet crazed whirring sound from the inside of his chest.

“and i must say…no one stares at me quite like you do when i’m on that stage, boothill.” you breathed, blinking up at him.

slowly, your hand starts to run over his own, feeling the smooth chrome of his hand even through the fabric of his glove.

“so, what was your real reason, cowboy?” you couldn’t help but tease him as your fingers gingerly stroked his knuckles that you felt tensing beneath each slight movement.

just as you thought you had the outlaw wrapped around your pretty little finger, it all seemed to fall away right from underneath you.

before you could utter another remark, he had you swiftly pulled into his lap, straddling him as he held that slicker-than-oil smirk on his face once more.

his lips crashed against your own, tongue snaking into your mouth while flecking the slightest tang of metal on your tastebuds. you responded almost immediately with an uncontained hunger, your arms being thrown around his shoulders as your hands ran through his hair, pulling him even deeper into the messy kiss.

boothill could feel you already drooling at the taste of him, the feeling of it dripping onto his face making him chuckle as he pulled away from you.

“i shoulda known y’were just a little cocktease…” he huffed, grabbing at your ass while he nipped and sucked at your neck.

“you might’ve caught me with those cute lil quips earlier, sweetheart. but i think y’forget who yer talkin’ to here.”

the words were laced with a feigning spite, as if he were speaking directly to an interrogator of the law. his teasing only persisted the more you squirmed, driving you even further into your pleasure-drunken haze.

you could feel yourself growing even more desperate, grinding yourself down against his thigh as he stripped you of your clothing one by one. even if you tried to hide it in some way, your slickness already started to leave a stain on his jeans.

“aww, you startin’ to get messy on me huh, sweetie?” you didn’t need to even see his face to know he was still wearing that same smirk.

your breath hitched at the feeling of his fingers swiping over your clit. he admired how your fluids glistened against his polished fingertips, before smearing it over your now exposed nipple. your head tossed back in response to his lips suddenly wrapping around it, tongue helping to lap up your own fluids from your skin.

it was a challenge for you to even form words at this point. you could hardly even notice that you were half naked on top of him, all with the door still unlocked. truthfully, you didn’t care. all you could focus on was boothill—the way he touched, marked and kissed you all over.

as your skirt was the final piece of clothing to fall to the floor, he smirked at the sight of your fully nude body on top of him now. no mesh, no lace, no shiny cover ups on any inch of you. and by the stars—you were so beautiful like this.

“shoot, babydoll.” he purred, pressing his lips against yours once more. “how many poor bastards wish they were in my position right now? hm?”

you couldn’t say another word before he repositioned you in front of the mirror, making you look at how much he’d marked your sensitive skin. with your back firmly pressed against his still whirring chest, you could hardly keep still anymore.

“boothill…please,” you whined, back naturally arching as you looked up at him with a glassy desperation.

he sucked his teeth, holding your face by your jaw as his other hand messily undid his belt buckle.

“where’s that tough gal from earlier, hm?” he teased, cursing under his breath as he ripped away his clothing.

occasionally, your lips would sloppily reconnect with each other. it never failed to make you whimper when his teeth would graze against your lips, almost threatening to leave some kind of mark.

it didn’t take long for you to finally feel his cock teasing your entrance. strangely, its chrome tip wasn’t cold like you expected it to feel. it was an almost flesh-like warmth, with a clear pulse that you could feel growing stronger as he moved it around your wetness.

you could feel a groan slip out from his gritted teeth as it slipped inside you with ease. you could see his head in the mirror tilting back, eyes already glazing over.

“y’know, i’ve always wondered what goes through those big-eyed halfwits’ brains when gawkin’ at you on that stage…” he choked out between deep thrusts.

with each thrust, he watched in excitement as your face became more twisted with euphoric pleasure, your moans growing louder and shakier.

“heh, i wonder how many of ‘em think they actually got a chance wit’ya.” he hissed, one of his hands wrapping around your neck as he fucked into you a little faster now.

you could hear him growling as his thrusts were both fast and sloppy. you had to grasp at the vanity to keep from falling forward with how much his pace had picked up. it felt as though his cock was both pulsing and slightly vibrating within you the closer he got to cumming.

“y’think they’d enjoy this for a show? huh…? me screwin’ their lil–mmhh–stage dolly?” he teased through his own grunts, bending you down further as his tongue slithered over your neck. “i bet you’d like it…”

the vanity started rhythmically smacking against the wall with the pace of his thrusts, hands squeezing your tits as they bounced. you let out a shattered moan, tightening around his quivering girth the closer you got.

“g-gonna cum, boothill…mmmh..!” you didn’t even know if you sounded the slightest bit coherent now, but he understood you perfectly without you even needing to say much. your body told him everything.

“let it out, princess…”

boothill groaned, unable to keep himself together anymore. his teeth sank into your shoulder as his final thrusts pulsed inside of you, causing you to seize up from the pleasure alone, letting a final shaky cry erupt from your chest.

it took a few moments to get your bearings. you breathed in shakily, allowing boothill to help you sit back up and relax your body once more. he was quick to fetch you water and seemingly very concerned with your physical state, which was an amusing contrast in behavior for him.

it didn’t take much to coax you back to your normal state. while there were quite a few marks visible on your neck and upper chest, you were sure you’d survive the prying comments from coworkers and managers, though it was sure to annoy you when the time came.

“i never knew you to be such a gentleman.” you teased as he brushed back your hair, trying not to guzzle down the water bottle in your hand.

“ya don’t know me, at least not as much as y’think you do.” he scoffed playfully, carefully pulling back your hair into a hair tie.

you glared at him. “is that a challenge?”

his eyes only slightly looked up at you through the mirror you both faced, red pupils dilated a bit. “maybe you can find out more while i walk y’home, how’s that sound?”

written by sirenscriptures. do not copy, repost, rewrite, translate, use, or post on to any other site.

tags: @houseofsolisoccasum

[toxicanonymity]

night walks masterlist

Updated: 11/8/24 (tired - comfort fic)

mood board by @milla-frenchy 🖤

This is an AU moreso than a series. Very little plot. Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed. Turns out he's a little obsessed with you. You find him irresistible, despite your initial efforts to stay away.

OVERALL WARNINGS: Non-outbreak AU, drug use, Dubcon, unsafe P in V, dirty talk, stalking

gif by @iamasaddie. see bottom of post for more art

reader curated spotify playlist

MAIN TIMELINE

NIGHT WALKS (2k) - ORIGINAL. Joel gets you in his basement and you fuck.

"Deleted Scene" - Joel reveals his breeding kink.

✨neighbor stuff (800) - Grocery store run-in

Night Walks 2 (1.9k) - When you don't come back for more, Joel takes matters into his own hands.

Night Walks 3 (1.4k) - Joel breaks in and has his way with you. (Darkest, can skip)

Liquor store run-in (350) - You run into Joel in public and he gropes you.

Night Walks 4: All dressed up (1.3k) - You run into Joel at a gas station and end up fucking him.

Restaurant drabble (400) - You run into Joel when you're out with your friends.

Night Walks 5: Harder (2.8k) - You get jealous. You hang out and can't get enough of him.

BLOW (2k) - You do a line of his dick then give him an amazing blow job and later he puts it in.

Night Walks 6: Morning After (900) - You wake up at Joel's and he's not ready for you to leave.

Night Walks 7: Soaked (3.5k) - You're still there and it's storming so you stay for a while.

Night Walks 8: Menace (4k) - You're set up on a date, but Joel reminds you why you want him.

Night Walks 9: Late Night Dip (2.3k) - You go to the pool and he dicks you down. Interlude: Ethyl's house.

Interludes: 4th of July (200?) - You go to the pool. POV: Neighbor (Ethyl).

✨tired (1k) - comfort fic

Beach walks - Prequel (3.8k) - Joel is acting shady and you hook up with someone else.

Beach Walks (7k) - Joel can't let you go. surf shack lore

HCs, ALTERNATE READERS & TIMELINES ⤵️

Headcanons

NSFW Alphabet - Various HCs in a standard format.

Pregnancy - How would he react to pregnancy?

If someone refused him - What would Joel do if someone flat-out refused him and really didn't want it?

Alt. timelines (AUs of AU)

FUTURE: Sleeping beauty (750) - You and Joel have a consensual non-con agreement. He breaks in, chloroforms you, ties you up.

FUTURE: Day walks (150) - You and Joel are out hiking and he's being irresponsible.

night caulks (100) - Joel being a rascal

ALT: Leopard print (4.5k)- ft. Tommy

DIFFERENT READERS (AUs of AU)

(2003) Night Chalks (400) - Joel takes a liking to Sarah's engaged teacher and starts to seduce her.

Night Chalks 2 (380) - Joel gets her in the back seat of his car.

(2008) Night Talks (2.8k) - Joel gets Sarah's best friend high and takes her virginity.

(2018) Night Drives (1k) - You order a lyft after a girl's night out and end up in Joel's basement.

Misc: If you're desperate: Dr. Rock has NW roleplay (1st person)

NIGHT WALKS GHOSTFACE

Every inch

Every inch 2

Every inch 3

main joel miller masterlist

Art & Visuals

TRAILER (video) by @iamasaddie

POV Ring doorbell by @swedishscumfuck.

Joel on vacation w/ blurb.

Man cave/basement floor plan

Booty text by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog and @missannwinchester

meet me in the moonlight by @iamasaddie

mood board by @milla-frenchy

gif by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Pumpkin mood board

beach walks collages by @lunitawrites

nw collage by @selfproclaimed-moviecritic

beach walks by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

sleeping beauty by @milla-frenchy

night walks vibes by @xdaddysprincessxx

Silhouette edit by Milla

[neolxzr]

OK so heres some of my favorite things that were talked about during the enter the florpus commentary thing yesterday:

one of jhonen's favorite things in the whole movie is the writing in zim's kitchen that says "do anything is real?"

they clarified specifically that gir was not lying and he did in fact eat a baby at the crazy taco

gir smells REALLY bad. theres like rotting organic matter in his body at all times. he stinks

zim's human suit is made out of actual human skin

zim is acting drunk on nacho cheese during that scene in his house because richard horvitz recorded it while drunk

they planned to have this whole thing with tak's ship only agreeing to go to moo-ping 10 because it knows tak is there. they wouldve shown her in silhouette during that brief explosion and she wouldve stowed away on the ship without anyone knowing and then wouldve shown up towards the end of the movie, but they decided to cut it out

zim did not need to frame membrane for a crime in order to get him into space prison and likely just tossed the guards like 5 bucks for it. its a shady place. they did specify though that if he did frame him for something, it would have been jaywalking

they pointed out during that scene where zim is celebrating peace day on dib's lawn that zim's reaction to seeing dib was very much genuine and that's just how his brain works. he is genuinely surprised to see him pop out of his own house. (they also described his reaction as like "being surprised to see your best friend")

the ham joke was ABSOLUTELY CRITICAL to the film and at some point jhonen remembered it and was like GUYS. WE ALMOST FORGOT THE HAM

there was supposed to be this joke where it cuts to and from gaz and dib in tak's ship and they would've had to stop at like a warp station or something and theyd be waiting in a long queue of spaceships and the radio is broken in the ship so theyre stuck listening to that one song. then itd cut to them like totally braindead drooling from listening to it for so long. and then a little later itd cut back a FINAL time and theyd know all of the words and both be singing along to it. but this was also cut out so only the last bit remained

when asked "who would win: minimoose or mrs. bitters?" the answer was along the lines of "neither, i think all of us lose in that scenario"

the tallest are just two dudes who happen to be the same height and therefore have to share the same job. they are not brothers and they are also not gay lovers ("as much as you want them to be, they are not. there is no love in this universe")

skooge is in fact alive and lives in zim's basement. they wanted to keep the number of "hey remember this thing from the tv show!" moments to a minimum so he was not mentioned in the movie. but he is there

[lunajay33]

Missing🖤

Summary: You and Daryl got separated at the started and now you’ve just been wandering hoping to find a secure place will you find Daryl again?

Pairing: Season 2 Daryl Dixon x f!reader

•Masterlist•

You and Daryl have known eachother since you were kids, growing up right next to eachother, along the way feelings grew and you got together right before graduation, you became a teacher and he worked at a mechanic shop, life was nice and simple together, you were even thinking about having a family but then things change, the world ended when you were teaching and you haven’t seen Daryl since, you search everywhere for him until eventually you had to leave down because of the walkers and venture out on your own, hoping you meet him again

Along the way you came across a barn, you scavenged for food finding some cans and as you looked out the window a horse was grazing the field, you packed up the rest of the food and ventured out finding a saddle approaching the horse steadily trying not to spook it away, thankfully it was friendly and approached you with ease letting, you strapped the saddle around her and hopped up, leading the horse as it trotted north

You’d be alone on your own for about 5 weeks now and it’s been lonely, you just wanted to see Daryl again just needed for him to hold you, you were on the horse walking through trees when a clearing opened up showing a farm house with people walking around, you were a bit wary since you’ve run into some shady people along the way but for some reason you were drawn to this farm, you lead the horse, you named Pixie, slowly as to not scare the people

As you and Pixie walked up the dirt road people started to gather, you hopped off Pixie holding her rope and waiting for the others to do or say anything and not just ogle you

“Who are you?” A man in a police outfit asked

“I’m y/n, I’ve been alone since the start, until I found pixie here” you said as you pet her shiny black hair

“Where’d you come from, who’d you find this place?” Another man asked he seemed a little crazy

“I’m from outside of Atlanta, I’ve just been wandering until I found something, I lost someone at the start and I’ve just been looking for him”

“Sorry to break it to you, he’s probably dead”

“Shane!” The officer glared at the man

“I still have hope, but do you guys have room for one more, I know how to hunt and I can help out”

“Of course, we could use another hunter, got one out hunting right now”

“Thank you”

The officer who introduced himself as Rick, showed you around introduced you to everyone even the owner of the farm, the sun was setting by the time all that was done

“We don’t have anymore tents we’ll have to go out tomorrow and get you one”

“Oh that’s no problem I can sleep out with Pixie” it was the normal for you now

“You sure?”

“Yeah it’s no problem…….shouldn’t your hunter be back by now?”

“Yeah oh there he is now” he said looking over you shoulder at the dirt road

A man with a crossbow and plaid shirt with ripped sleeves, you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere, you sprinted off towards him your heart racing, tears streaming down your face

“DARYL” you screamed as he looked up dropping his crossbow just in time to open his arms and wrap himself around you as you threw yourself into his arms

“Is it really you peach?” He asked in such disbelief it broke your heart

“It’s me, I can’t believe I found you I thought I’d never see you again, I looked everywhere for you I waited at our house hoping you’d come back but……I had to leave I had to find you” you said quickly your eyes not believing you found him having to tell him everything you’ve been thinking these 5 weeks without him

5 weeks may not seem like a lot but in the apocalypse there was no guarantee about anything so everything was precious

You held his biceps as he traced his fingers over ever features on your face completely forgetting others were around you both

“So I’m guessing you two know eachother?” Glenn asked

“She’s my girl” Daryl stated not taking his eyes off of you

“Thee Daryl Dixon got a girl?” Andrea laughed, you turned and glared at her

“You bet your ass I’m his”

“And ya ain’t ever leaving my side again”

[beomie3]

txt on valentine’s day

bf txt x reader & fluff :)

♡choi yeonjun

this man would seduce the hell out of you from the start...

he was leaning on the hood of his car, a bouquet of red roses in hand.

he dressed up so nicely for you; a chic red sweater with jeans that hugged his legs so nicely and his hair styled in a way that left you frozen where you stood.

he would kiss your hand so sensually and open the car door like the gentleman he is.

when you got in the car you found that he had your name engraved on the passenger mirror because that was your spot and your spot only.

the back seat was arranged with pink gift bags and a sweet arrangement of all of your favorite candies/snacks.

when you leaned in for a kiss, his soft lips tasted of cherry chapstick; the scent of his cologne just driving you crazy. you just couldn't get enough of him.

"just wait for the present i have for you tonight, baby." he would say with a handsome smirk and kiss to your cheek before driving the two of you to a romantic dinner.

♡choi soobin

would treat you like the princess of princesses.

he would take you out to get your nails done and then proceed to melt when you give him head scratches/back scratches with your new nails hehe.

would have the apartment decorated for you top to bottom with sparkly decorations and little rose petals scattered around with candles and chocolates.

he would cook a delicious dinner for you and bake the most delicious pastries that literally had you convinced he was secretly a professional baker.

he would take the two of you out to an arcade later that night where you beat him in pretty much every game but he didn't care, he just loved seeing you so happy.

the one thing he did win was a huge bunny plushie for you!

"that way i will always be with you," he smiled as he handed you the plushie but you hugged him instead.

you took the cutest selfies together at the arcade <3

♡choi beomgyu

you two spent the day inside, just cuddling on the couch when an idea sparks his mind.

"let's make chocolate-covered strawberries!"

the kitchen is already a mess in not even 10 minutes of the two of you being in there.

he is chasing you around the kitchen island with a finger dipped in chocolate just needing to smear some across your nose as payback for doing it to him.

his hands would clasp around your waist when you stood at the sink rinsing off the strawberries.

later that evening he took you out to watch the sunset at the beach where the two of you sat in the sand, head on his shoulder as you stared off into the orange sky, talking about your futures together.

"do we want one or two kids?" he would ask, already knowing you wanted three, since it was his lucky number.

he brought his film camera and would capture the cutest most aesthetic pictures of your silhouette in the sunset, making sure to post it on his instagram <3

♡kang taehyun

this boy would write you a 10-page love letter about how much you mean to him, including little poems, doodles, and polaroids he pasted onto the pages :'(

a sweet picnic at the park on a sunny day under some shady trees was the perfect way to spend valentine's day with your terry.

he made you homemade kimchi fried rice, tteokbokki, and ramyeon in which he all packed in little pots and set out for you to help yourself to and eat until your heart was content <3

after eating you both laid on the blanket and stared at the clouds, you on his chest as he hummed little tunes for you.

the wind swaying through the trees, birds chirping, subtle background noises of cars passing by and people chatting, mixed with this angelic voice had you falling in love with him all over again.

"you're my favorite person on this entire planet, you know that?"

♡huening kai

kai would set up the cutest little movie night date at his apartment for you.

when you arrived, the couch was covered in plushies and fluffy blankets, a plethora of his hoodies draped over the arm of the couch so that you pick one to wear for the night.

being cuddled up in his arms was the ultimate comfort despite all of the comfy things he provided for you <3

your laughs could probably be heard outside as you literally were dying over the funny scenes in the movie, even popcorn flew everywhere as he could not control himself.

after the movie he brought his guitar out and sang an original he wrote just for you :)

he gave you a piggy back ride to his room where you would have pillow fights and late night talks, laughing until you fell asleep.

even though you are dating, you are still the best of friends above all else :,)

a/n: happy valentine’s day everyone!! <33 i hope u all have the best day ever, treat urself to something special today!!! :) love u so much! 💝 + thank you so much for over 700 followers it means the world to me 🥺

-valentine’s day divider credits: @f-loqweres and @gigittamic

[bigboobyhalo]

I know in my heart q!BBH has been responsible for like at least 100 separate urban legends around the QSMP’s globe all throughout history . he’s the unseen beast that’s been devastating the local population of farm animals and leaving nothing but their ravaged remains behind . he’s the ominous, too-tall, shadowed figure with glowing white eyes that you spot in a forest and shakily recount in your story for the latest edition of the town’s newspaper . he’s the ink-black man with the sharp, creepy grin that you encounter alone in the dead of night, who offers you a shady deal that’s rumored to leave people cursed . he’s the silhouette that you swear you see standing beside your dying loved one for just a moment that disappears before you can even fully process that he was there . he’s clawed footprints and hundred-year old campfire stories and mangled deer corpses and grainy photos and omens of death and exaggerated tales of encountering satan himself …. and no one knows that all of these stories are actually about just one guy !

[mbbmz]

HI! I hope everything goes well :3 If I'm not asking too much, could you do something with kokonoi? anything is fine, I just need material on my favorite tokrev boy 🤕💗

Helloooo thx for requesting bby

Sorry I took soooo long I didn’t have any inspo for him 😔

Anyways IM SORRY IF THIS IS BAD I DID MY BEST- (hope you’ll at least enjoy this a lil)

Also English ain’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’s mistakes or if some things doesn’t really make sense-

Warnings: none, slight hurt/comfort I think with fluffy fluff at the end 🤭 Bonten Koko

You loved your husband, you truly did.

And you were sure he loved you too. It’s just that… he had a hard time showing it. You definitely didn’t doubt his love. You knew that he just wasn’t the most affectionate person out there.

But even so, you began craving the touch and loving words he didn’t give you, you craved his lips on yours and your fingers intertwined with his. Yet you didn’t ask, because you knew, Hajime Kokonoi wasn’t an affectionate person.

You were alone in your shared bed that night, thoughts bouncing between worry for him and worry for your heart. He told you many times to not worry about him, but how could you not ? Your husband was out late at night doing shady, well, shady isn’t really the right word, illegal work that could cost him his life. Not without some struggling, you finally fell asleep, looking at the diamond ring on your nightstand.

After who knows how long, you woke up feeling some shuffling on the bed. Through your half lidded eyes, you recognized the silhouette of your husband, finally home, safe and sound. You couldn’t help but let a subconscious smile grace your lips, as you closed back your eyes.

- Welcome home… you muttered, voice weak and hoarse, laced with sleepiness

He said nothing, sliding under the blanket beside you. You didn’t know if it was the tiredness or something else, but you weren’t having it tonight.

You shifted closer to him, pressing your chest against his back as you wrapped your arms around him.

- I miss you…

His eyes widened in slight surprise. Your way of saying it didn’t go unnoticed by him.

You didn’t miss him, you were missing him still.

He let out a small sigh, rolling around to face your half asleep figure. For the first time in a while, he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his nose in your hair. You smiled softly, relishing in his warmth. You were happy, even so when you heard him whispering those words.

- I love you.

[itiswritteninthestarsabove]

[wispythreads]

Some thoughts as I spent a significant portion of my day today playing Dead Plate by racheldrawsthis (which you can go find and play yourself https://racheldrawsthis.itch.io/dead-plate), and honestly it was pretty fun! Enjoyed it a lot!

I got the Table for One ending first, which is an ending most people would probably get first since the other ones require specific triggers. I'd missed some cutscenes, but talked a bunch whenever I could with the restaurant owner/head chef, Vince. Even though I knew that this was a horror game and that Vince was probably up to something incredibly shady in the background (i.e. the usual the food = human remains trope that kinda follows this setting), I was hoping that there might be an ending where he and Rody go beyond a boss/employee relationship.

There was just something really endearing about that first cutscene when Rody arrives late after biking through rain, and Vince took the time to not only help dry him off but gave Rody an umbrella so that it wouldn't happen again in the future. I found their conversations really fun and silly and began to formulate a scenario in my head where this very put-together, cold and quiet no nonsense guy grew to begrudgingly but genuinely like the blunt energetic but absolute mess of person he'd happened to hire, and maybe the two of them could balance each other out a bit more (and Rody could maybe put an end/prevent Vince from treading into cannibal territory)

Having gotten all four of the endings now, I'm torn between appreciating them all and being a bit sad that the one I was hoping for didn't come to fruition, and, judging by the timeline of events going on that I somehow just completely missed the first time, really couldn't. like. ever...?

I am very much stuck contemplating just what the hell was both of their deals now. (why lemons specifically what does it mean something outside of it being a food he appreciates its existence for why was the wine bottle broken with wine spilled everywhere why doesn't he follow you in and you have to come back out with it why was her silhouette standing in the street staring up at you ghost not dead just spooky event to be unsettling what was the real purpose of the dinner party what is that one inaccessible room of the apartment what did she mean by that when they broke up why was he bouncing between jobs so much why such a violent reaction to the garbage tearing how the hell do you burn pbj what is the deal with the fridge freezer why does it seem like he initially intends to leave and then decides on such a firey response instead why not an ending where he does just leave flunked out obsession what was the point of the whole plan he just lets you leave in the first ending what does he gain from that)

The fact that it was just released today and I have no idea if anyone else will be talking about this game has me very Normal.

[horseshoegirl]

Dragon Age: AntivanCrow!MickeyGarcia

When I tell you I have a soft spot for the Crows .... 👀 Mickey just fits into their world... 🖤

The rooftop smelled of wet stone and stale chimney smoke, a stench Mikhael, or Mickey as his cousin liked to tease him with, had long since stopped noticing. The city of Kirkwall sprawled below him in jagged shadows, the faint hum of voices and clatter of wagons never truly ceasing. He crouched low, his silhouette blending with the crumbling stone parapet, his eyes fixed on his mark.

You. A forgotten Trevelyan. And a mage, no less.

You were nothing like he’d imagined when he’d taken the contract. The dossier had painted you as dangerous, a rogue apostate with ties to blood magic, someone who could snap their fingers and turn him into ash. Instead, you stood in a patch of weak moonlight outside your tiny cottage, a shawl draped over your shoulders, humming softly as you fed scraps to a mangy dog.

Not exactly the harbinger of chaos he’d been promised.

Mikhael adjusted his position, feeling the familiar weight of his twin daggers at his hips. Weeks of observation had told him one thing: you were no threat. No shady deals in dark alleys, no suspicious visitors slipping in and out of your home. Just endless days of mending clothes, tending to sick children, and healing wounds with gentle spells and elfroot that barely flickered with power.

It didn’t make sense.

The Crows didn’t take just any job. Whoever had paid the exorbitant sum for this contract clearly wanted you gone for reasons beyond what they’d told him. And yet… it wasn’t his job to ask questions. It was his job to kill.

So why had he spent three weeks not doing that?

“Don’t get soft,” he muttered under his breath.

The dog barked once, startling him out of his thoughts. You turned your head slightly, scanning the shadows. Mikhael stilled, every muscle going taut as you stared in his direction.

“I know you’re there,” you called out, voice steady but laced with uncertainty. The dog let out another growl, baring its teeth.

Mikhael debated melting into the shadows and slipping away for a split second, as he’d done so many times before. But something about how you stood there, with your chin held high despite the fear in your eyes, made him hesitate.

“Are you going to come out, or should I just start throwing fireballs?” you added, a teasing lilt to your words.

Mikhael smirked despite himself. Bold. He liked that.

Slowly, he stood, stepping into the pale moonlight. The dog growled louder but didn’t move, clearly more bark than bite. Your eyes widened, and he saw fear flicker for a moment. Then you straightened, your expression hardening.

“Well?” you demanded. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

He could have killed you then. Should have. A quick throw of his dagger would end it all, and the Crows would never know how long he’d hesitated. But instead, he found himself saying, “Just passing through.”

Your brow arched. “On my roof?”

Mikhael shrugged, his smirk deepening. “Best view in the city.”

Something told him that, for better or worse, this job was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.

[joelmillerisapunk]

WIP Wednesday

Here are 3 long previews of three fics two Joels and one Marcus Acacius bc wtf is even happening

QZ Coffee Hoe Joel

Joel stands in line behind another man in a shady corner of the QZ waiting to trade you his last four ration cards for coffee. He remembers one of the guards he regularly provides drugs to, mentioning a rumor about a secret stash of coffee that you keep hidden away. If he can get his hands on some of that, it'll be worth more than his sanity at this point.

He walks up to you in the shadowed corner and holds out four ration cards - enough for a half bag of coffee and a couple filters to DIY his own home brew. 

You pause eyeing the man up and down, Joel fucking Miller, you've beeing waiting for this day. God he's such a pretty piece of eye candy around this dreary concrete hell. You smirk, and shake your head, when you the ration cards in his hands, “your cards are no good here Miller.” 

He looks surprised you know his name and then looks behind him, “but you just sold him a full bag for ‘em” 

You look over at Carl, your right hand, the man who helped you set up shop, “yah well Carl's been a regular since I started.” You grab your box of overflowing ration cards. “Your cards ain't good to me Joel. Turns out a lot of people miss coffee.”

Gladiator Marcus Acacius

As the evening wanes and guests begin to depart, you slip away from your admirers under the pretense of needing fresh air. Marcus follows at a discreet distance, his military training serving him well in this illicit dance of concealment. He finds you in the peristyle garden,  bathed in moonlight that makes you look like one of Diana's own nymphs—untouchable yet irresistibly tempting.

"You tease me cruelly before our peers," he says quietly as he approaches, keeping his voice low to avoid detection by any lingering guests or servants who might be lurking nearby. "Is it not enough that we risk everything behind closed doors?"

You turn to face him fully, your heart pounding with anticipation and trepidation at the dangerous game you both play so well under Rome's ever-watchful gaze. Your words come out as a soft challenge laced with affectionate sarcasm. "And what would life be without a touch of peril to spice our secret rendezvous?”

Howdy Honey - Ranch Joel Ch. 2

As you prepare to retire to the couch, Joel surprises you by scooping you up into his arms. "What are you doing?" you protest weakly, even as you instinctively wrap an arm around his shoulders for support.

"I'm takin' you to your room," he replies, his tone leaving no room for debate. "You'll be more comfortable in your own bed, and I reckon it's about time you started usin' it again."

Before you can voice any further objections, Joel is ascending the staircase with surprising ease, despite your protests about being too heavy. When he reaches the top, he carries you down the hallway to your bedroom and gently sets you down on the bed.

There," he says, tucking the covers around you with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. "You get some sleep now. I'll be right downstairs if you need anything."

You watch as he turns to leave, a sudden sense of panic welling up inside you at the thought of being alone in the dark. "Joel, wait," you call out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pauses in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the hallway light. "What is it, darlin'?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

"Would you... could you maybe stay with me for a little while?" you ask, the words tumbling out before you can second-guess yourself. "Just until I fall asleep?”

Npt to all of tumblr: @evolnoomym @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @604to647 @syd-djarin

@penvisions @pascalssbabyy @thundermartini @ovaryacted @sawymredfox

@sixhours @ameerawrites @oonajaeadira @ace-turned-confused @burntheedges

@alltheirdamn @strang3lov3 @magpiepills @mountainsandmayhem @mermaidgirl30

[bookshelf-dust]

really know him

part i part ii part iii part iv

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3,190

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of eddie's childhood/parents, cops, feelings and fluff

a/n: okay, hi. look who remembered how to write for eddie!! i know, right? it's totally wild. so this is gonna be another multi-part series. i think this first one is pretty sweet. it's been nice to write some eddie for a while. i hope you guys enjoy this!! the title is a play on something dustin says to wayne in season four. also tagging @rogueharrington and @zaypay because the former is a little goon and way too good to me and the latter i know wanted some eddie and is also much to sweet to me. happy reading!! <3333

————

The screen door slams so hard that the frame rattles and the metal screeches, and you’re not even sure it shut properly. But you don’t really care.

You don’t care at all. 

You practically run to the picnic table closest to your trailer, stepping onto the bench to raise yourself up and sit on the tabletop.

It rained today. It’s ended just recently enough that the trees are still dripping with it, the leaves shaking water off with each breeze that comes by, the wood table damp under where you sit.

You’re sure it’s wetting the denim of your jeans, turning the light wash of them a darker shade. But you don’t care. You don’t care about any of this. It feels so minor when you ache like this. 

The feeling stretches and splays throughout your chest, crawling up your throat and producing a sob that you release into the night air.

You lean your head back and let the tears come. They spill into your hair, across the tops of your ears; they trickle down the side of your neck. They don’t seem to want to stop. They’re the kind of tears that just keep going and going. You just have to let it out. You can’t possibly hold them in because they won’t allow it. 

You feel your eyes get puffy, feel your lashes sticking to your skin. You feel like a wreck.

It’s then that he sees you.

Eddie lights a cigarette, pulling his wrist the rest of the way through the jacket he’d grabbed on the way out. It’s the time of day where he walks around outside the trailer, smoking, breathing, looking for bugs or half listening to whatever show neighbors are watching with the volume loud enough that the whole trailer park can hear it. 

He sees your silhouette across the sandy road, your figure cast in the orange light from the old street lamp that’s just come on, the shady area tricking it into thinking it’s fully night already. 

Eddie sits down on the couch. He can’t help but look you over. No one else is usually out around now, except for that couple that sits on the old playground. They’ve lived here longer than Eddie has been alive, Wayne once told him. Everyone else is too busy having dinner or vacuuming or doing whatever the fuck it is that people do. 

You drop your face into your hands, fingers becoming wet with tears.

Eddie catches the motion, the tremble in your shoulders and the way you’re folding in on yourself. It’s like you’re trying to make yourself as small as possible. Like maybe you’re trying to disappear.

Eddie thinks you obviously want to be alone. It’s probably why you’re out here in the first place. He knows that when he’s upset and he wanders off somewhere that that’s what he wants too.

But he also knows how much he’s wished to be seen or comforted before. And the idea of leaving you there, shuddering and lost, is killing him.

So he stands.

The combination of dirt and gravel crunches under Eddie’s boots, making his approach a lot less quiet than he’d originally been shooting for. But it's not like subtlety has ever been his strong suit anyways. 

You hear it, the sound. You try and wipe your face dry, though it’s to no avail. It’s as if a buildup of every suppressed emotion is releasing itself all at once, and there’s nothing you can do about it until it’s over. Until you allow yourself to let it go. 

Still, you try and fix yourself because you can see someone walking up out of the corner of your eye. No one ever sees you cry. There’s no reason for them to.

Eddie steps up onto the bench just as you had, settling close enough to you on the tabletop that the chain on his jeans touches your thigh. It’s cold, especially with the way your jeans are wet now, but his body is warm next to yours. There’s a part of you that wants to lean into that warmth, to lean into him. 

Eddie takes the cigarette from his mouth and holds it out to you. When you turn to face him he raises his eyebrows, a sweet look on his face. Want a hit? He’s asking.

You shake your head. No thank you.

Eddie takes one more long drag and then he’s snuffing the cigarette out. If you don’t want any, he doesn’t want to bother you with it either. 

“You okay?” he asks you.

You shrug.

Eddie looks at you, curls slipping from over his shoulder to dangle on one side of his face, a stark difference in color between that of his hair and cheek. At first you don’t look back, but then you do. You have to, knowing he’s got his eyes on you. You turn your head, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, eyes swollen and tears shiny against your cheeks and down your neck, making your skin look tacky. You’re fussing with the edge of your sleeve.

Eddie thinks you look young.

“How come you came over here?” you ask, looking at his boots, which remain unlaced, like he hadn’t even thought to tie them at all. “It’s not like we’re friends or something.”

The boy snorts. “We worked together on that one project in Ms. O’Donnell’s,” he points out. “Before you up and left.”

That gets the grin out of you he was hoping it would. “You mean when I graduated?”

“Yeah.” He knocks his knee against yours, fiddling with the chain clasped around his wrist. “And,” Eddie continues, “we live across from each other.” He gestures to either of your trailers and you follow the movement of his finger. The nail is painted black, though thoroughly chipped. The kind of chipping you get when it’s been so long since you’ve done your nails that you can’t even remember painting them at all. “Doesn’t that make us like, at least, acquaintances?” 

You bring your hands up to your face, wiping at the tears there before getting at the ones spread throughout your hairline. “I suppose so,” you say.

You wipe your hands across the denim covering your legs and then shake them out. You look up.  Eddie notices you doing this and looks up with you.

The moon is round and bright. “Is it full tonight?” he asks.

“Tomorrow,” you say. Your calendar had told you so, a little circle under the date. “Though you never answered my question.”

Eddie’s head lowers towards yours, and he’s thinking. What question? Oh. That one, yeah.

“You looked upset. I thought maybe it would be nice for you to not be alone.”

You look at him again, and his big brown eyes stare back at you. They’re shiny under the light from the street lamp, his eyelashes unfairly long and kissing at the corners. There are shadows under his eyes, but they only make him look prettier. 

You think about the fact that he didn’t have to do that. Come and sit with you. It’s just the fact that he did. That he’s not prying. That he simply did not want you to be alone.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

His face splits into a sweet grin. He raises his hands, gesturing with them in a sweeping motion.

“Anytime,” he says. “I’m right there, you know. If you ever need to yell or something. As long as you’re not too busy with college for an old high school acquaintance.”

You roll your eyes at him but it’s completely void of malice. You glance back up again, and when you do, you gasp a little.

“What?” Eddie’s voice sounds slightly panicked.

You lift your hand, pointing. “Look,” you tell him. “The bats are out.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump in relief that there isn’t something wrong. But you’re right. There are at least three bats circling around the entrance to the trailer park.

One of them squeaks and you do too, though yours is out of excitement rather than whatever the reason is that bats chirp–he doesn’t know. It makes Eddie laugh.

“You like bats?”

"I do," you say, your eyes never leaving the sky. It's been a long time since you saw them, never really being out at the right time. You hope they find something good to eat.

"Me too," Eddie says.

You look away, just for a moment, remembering. "Haven't you got some on your arm?"

The boy laughs, slow and warm. "Yeah, I drew one up for my back, but I haven't saved up enough to get it done yet."

Your eyes light up, a flicker of curiosity, and Eddie thinks his heart skips a beat. "What part of your back?" you ask him.

"Lower," he says, pointing to where the bats are swooping down into the trees. You both watch them together.

"You want a tramp stamp?"

Eddie tosses his head back and cackles. It’s a beautiful, joyous sound. "I suppose I do."

“Nothing wrong with a tramp stamp, Eddie,” you say through a laugh. 

He smiles at you then, and it’s boyish. He looks young. Happy. And you can’t believe he’s looking at you that way. 

You turn your face back to the sky and close your eyes. Your nose stings and the tears start spilling out again.

Eddie looks at you and realizes you’re crying. He puts his hand on your knee on instinct. “Hey, what’s the matter?” 

You shake your head, using one hand to wipe at your face, the other settling atop his hand. His eyes dart  briefly to observe your touching hands but his focus is back on you just as quickly. 

“It’s nothing,” you say. “Just having a rough night and you’re being really kind to me and I guess I’m just overwhelmed.” 

You move your hand, but Eddie grabs hold of it gently. 

“Look at me.”

You shake your head again. 

“It’s okay. I’m not going to make fun of you,” he says, and you believe him, though really looking at him and his big brown eyes is enough to wash a surge of sadness over you. 

Eddie uses his thumb to wipe the fresh tears from under your lashes, grazing the tip of your now stuffy nose with his knuckle. You wrinkle it and he grins. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Not really, no.”

Eddie nods. “That’s cool.” He smiles again, and pushes a chunk of hair behind his ear, which only makes you curious about something else. 

You sniffle. “Why don’t you have your ears pierced?”

“You’re looking at me and that’s what you’re worried about?”

You rub your nose rather aggressively. “Yeah, actually. It seems very off-brand of you to not have at least one of them pierced. And I know you’re not afraid of needles.”

You don’t have to gesture to his tattoos. And that is true about the needles, but don’t be fooled. Eddie does not like getting shots. He loathes it, matter of fact. 

“Nope. Definitely not. I guess I just never got around to it. But it’s not like I have something against piercings.”

You rub your denim clad knees. “I’m glad to hear it.”

The both of you are quiet for a little while. It’s a comfortable silence, one that you feel safe in with him there. Because of him. You let your eyes wander around the trailer park as if you’ve never been here before. As if you hadn’t skinned your palms and banged up your knees or gotten a sunburn here as a child. As if you hadn’t grown and watched the trailers deteriorate as time went on. 

You look across the street at Eddie’s trailer, and suddenly you remember. 

You must’ve been, what, twelve? When the cops showed up, escorting a little boy the same age as you, informing a man who never really wanted children that the boy belonged to him now. There were a lot of people there that day. A social worker, maybe? A whole lot of people all trying to figure out what to do with another kid whose parents had bailed. 

Eddie’s father was arrested under charges of so many things you weren't really sure what they all were. He’d been running from the law for a very long time. And then one day he wasn’t running anymore. 

Eddie’s mother was still there after his dad wasn’t. She tried to raise Eddie, but she couldn’t do it on her own. She’d had him young, and never really gotten the hang of it, even if she tried. How hard she tried though, that can be debated on. 

After a while she turned to drugs to cope, and then when the money ran out, when the lights were off and the house cold, she ran off.

Eddie was alone, with nothing but a note and his uncle’s phone number. His mother had told herself that Eddie was a smart boy, that he’d figure it out. She got by on telling herself that her brother would take good care of her son. 

And he had. He still does. Wayne was and is a better father than Eddie’s biological dad had ever been. And even if it wasn’t what he’d planned, what he’d wanted, Eddie was Wayne’s boy. He always would be. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice breaks you out of your stupor. 

You shake your head. 

“Thank you for sitting out here with me tonight, Eddie.”

He does his best to hide the pout he feels emerging. He doesn’t want you to go back inside, and that’s the sort of sentence that usually precedes a goodbye. He wants to talk to you. He wants to figure out who you are. 

“You don’t have to thank me. I’ll sit with you any time you want. And you can always sit with me too, if you feel like it.”

You grin. Eddie thinks it’s so pretty, your smile. Shy, sure, but so, so pretty. 

“You’re positive?”

“Absolutely.”

You go to stand, but Eddie beats you to it, his boots hitting the ground with a thud. He offers you his hand. “M’lady.”

His hand is surprisingly warm, and you’re quite sure the callouses you can feel will be imprinted in your brain for the rest of your life. 

“Can I walk you home?” Eddie asks. 

You laugh, kicking at a particularly large tree root that the rain has exposed, washing away the thin layer of dirt covering it. 

“Well I don’t know, Eddie, the twenty feet to my trailer is an awful long trek. Wouldn’t want you to have to go through all of that.” 

He shakes his head at you, bangs moving over his eyebrows. “You’re right. Could be dangerous. Which is why I need to go with you to ensure you get inside safely. Maybe you should even hold my hand.”

“Smooth.”

He holds out his hand. “Right?”

You take it, and he squeezes once, hard enough to make you giggle. 

Eddie walks you to your trailer, and rests his chin against the worn out porch railing while you walk up the stairs. 

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Night, M’lady.”

————

It’s been a few days. Everything the rain touched dried out again. 

Eddie’s outside. He won’t mind if you go and see him, right? 

You can always sit with me too, if you feel like it.

You do feel like it. 

Your front steps creak as you bound down them, looking both ways before you cross the road—if it can even be called that—as if the trailer park has ever been traffic heavy. Habit or whatever. 

Eddie watches you make your way towards him, tugging on the flannel you’re wearing to try and keep it close to your sides, away from the wind. 

“Hey,” Eddie says. He’s got that stupid ass grin on his face. 

“Hi.” You stop before even stepping up onto the concrete slab that is his porch. “Thought I’d come and visit you. Hope that’s okay.”

“Told you it was.” He chuckles. It makes your face warm. 

Eddie is slumped on the old couch they have set out there. His legs are spread wide, one splayed out and the other pulled closer to the cushion. He reaches his arms up over his head, stretching and yawning. His shirt rides up with the movement, exposing a sliver of the bottom of his stomach, the soft doughy skin there, the trail of dark hair leading both upwards and downwards.

“Wanna come sit?” He asks, lowering his arms. He pretends like he didn’t see you looking at him in that way, even though he most definitely did. If he thinks about it too hard he’ll blush. 

Rather than answer, you step up and settle on the other end of the couch, your back to the arm. You pull your legs up and sit with them criss-crossed.

“What are you up to?” you ask. 

He snorts. “Procrastinating. I’m supposed to be doing homework. You know, so I can do that graduating thing you did. I also have a campaign to finish, but here we are.”

You grin at him, and he reaches over, thumb tapping your knee before he rests his hand on the couch next to you. “If it helps,” you start, “I also have homework I’m supposed to be doing.”

“We’re so good at this.”

“Aren’t we?”

Eddie is quiet for a minute. He looks around outside, noting that the sun is slipping away. “You come to look for bats again?”

“No. I just wanted to see you. But I’ll gladly look for them.”

“To see me? How kind. You know just how to flatter a man.” He presses a hand to his chest dramatically and you roll your eyes. 

The door that they use as their front one opens, and Wayne walks out. He looks over at you both.

“I’m headin’ out, Ed.” He smiles at you. “What’re you both up to? No good from the looks of it.”

“Lookin’ for bats,” Eddie tells him. Wayne gives the boy a knowing look, but he won’t mention it. If something’s going on, Eddie will spill eventually. That’s how it’s always worked. Eddie the motormouth and whatnot. 

Wayne turns his face to the sky, hand raising to shield his eyes from that last little chunk of sun still hanging around, even though the moon has already started to climb up. “Watch that back tree line,” he instructs. “It’s where I always seem ‘em.”

“Will do,” you say, grinning. 

Wayne opens his car door, throwing himself inside. “Behave!” he calls.

Eddie gives him a two finger salute and watches as his uncle drives off, turning and then Eddie can’t see him anymore.

“Us?” Eddie starts. “Behave? Why on earth would we do a thing like that?”

You toss your head back and laugh. Eddie thinks you look so pretty tonight. The sun is almost gone for the evening, the clouds turning this pretty pink, this deep orange. The clouds are a thick gray. 

He wants to scoot closer to you on the couch. Maybe one day soon he will. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33