#now i have practice eee

[ncroissant]

chilchuck tims x younger! bimbo! reader

summary: chilchuck's first impressions and favourite things about younger reader + what he's like when he's angry and how he comforts reader after a punishment

content warning: no use of yn/name, slight mention of open-wound, dacryphilia, dom/sub dynamics, implied younger reader (age not mentioned, but 18+), slight angst/comfort, fluff, slightly suggestive, mention of cock once

wc: 1.6k

author's notes: i personally love chilchuck and when i found out he was 29 with 3 kids...oh my goodness. i love dilfs bro. this was just a whole jumble of head cannons that i have for him so, sorry for the lack of flow. you can see how i got lazy at the end... not proofread obviously !! minors please DNI !!

he always thought of you as a thoughtless, little girl. your head in the clouds, not a single thought in that pretty skull of yours.

letting him drag you around by your hand as you looked around dungeon floors like a tourist. wrapping an arm around your waist from behind every time you tripped on your two left feet. carrying you on his back when you were too tired to walk in your cute little loafers. covering your bare legs with his sweater to cover the pink panties that peaked out of your mini skirt. 

too mini, he thought.

as much as he wouldn’t like to admit, he liked having you around. you were falin’s best friend, therefore laois’ best friend, therefore a plus one to their dungeon party. 

you were like a little kid that he couldn’t predict or understand. he thought girls like you were the worst. couldn’t do anything for themselves and expected the rest of the party to pick up their slack. 

but then he saw how sweet you were, always smiling with pretty glossy lips. you’d also braid marcille’s hair in the morning, listen to laois’ rants about monsters and try your best to prep ingredients with senshi (and chilchuck’s) guidance. 

but he especially liked how needy you’d get with him too. you’d tug his sleeve and bat your lashes at him with such a cute, little pout when you wanted something. 

“chilchuck pleaseeeeeee,” you’d whine, such a pitiful look on your face when you latched onto his arm, placing your chin on his shoulder with your lip puffed out. 

“what’s going on here?” marcille giggled, raising her brows at your affection with the grumpy lock-picker.

you let of his arm to his dismay, stomping over to marcille. “he won’t give me any of that candy we bought from the dungeon market earlier!” you exclaim, throwing your usual fit. “says i’ll get sick if i eat too much,” you huff, crossing your arms.

“hey now, simmer down,” he’d wrap his arm around your shoulder, giving you a warning squeeze. “you’re getting too worked up over nothing again. you know i’m right, hm?” he’d rub your arm soothingly, as you slowly calmed down, the frown not leaving your face.

“b-but i just wanna try a lil’ bit of it…won’t eat too much, promise.” your puppy eyes almost got to him. your eyes were glossy, tears threatening to fall at his rejection. he knew if he said no, he’d feel like the scum of the earth. 

“don’t start with that now,” he said sternly as you quickly wiped your tears at his words. 

“chilchuck, don’t be so mean to her. she’s just excited,” senshi chuckled, passing you a handkerchief to dry your tears.

he looked down at you (not very much because you two were practically the same height), inspecting the look on your face. he knew it was wrong, but he loved to see you get teary-eyed because of him. you were just so pretty. he always gave into what you wanted eventually, but loved teasing you to get a few tears out. 

“you can have some after dinner,” he mumbled, turning his head away from you. 

you looked up at him, before jumping into his arms, your own wrapped around his neck. “eee! thank you, chilchuck!” you squealed as he wrapped his arms around your waist to stabilize you. 

“settle down, alright? you better behave before then, you hear me?” he grumbled, as you pulled away from his face, still entangled on him. 

“mhm, i will! be on my best behaviour,” you giggled, stuffing your face in his neck again, hugging him tightly. 

“good,” he blushed ever so lightly, caressing your hair with his free hand.

he loved how obedient you were too. always so eager to please him. he didn’t know if it was because he was so much older than you, but you always listened so well for him in comparison to the others in the party. 

whenever you were acting up, the party would bring you over to chilchuck and he would give you a hard talking to. he was especially mean when he was mad. 

as much as you loved to brat out, you never wanted to make chilchuck mad. your most hated punishment was his silent treatment. it wouldn’t just be not talking to you, it would be acting like you didn’t even exist. 

you were playing around with marcille’s staff and accidentally destroyed one of the columns in the floor you were in, alerting monsters of your location. unfortunately, this caused a 20 minute running montage, but also one of the biggest arguments between you and chilchuck. 

“what the hell were you thinking?” he wasn’t yelling, but the calmness of his voice was scarier. 

“‘m sorry…” you mumbled, knowing you messed up. you were earnestly playing around, you didn’t know you would hit anything. 

he never scolded you in front of the party, but sometimes his voice could get loud enough for the party to hear. 

“you know better than to use other people’s things without permission, let alone touch it. i taught you better than that, no?” his lips were pursed into a straight line, arms crossed as he leaned against the brick behind him. 

“yes, you did,” you frowned, looking down at your fidgeting fingers. 

as remorseful as you looked, he wouldn’t budge as easily as he usually would. “one week.” he started, fear bubbling in your tummy. 

“nothing from me for a week.” he propped himself off the wall, ready to walk off. 

you shot your head up, shaking your head rapidly, “no please. ‘m so sorry, please don’t,” you reached from his arm but he already pulled away. 

he shook his head in disappointment at your feeble attempt, “you know the drill, angel. or would you sleep with marcille for the week as well?” he threatened, making your heart drop.

you brought your hands back to yourself, sniffling at how mean he was being. "mkay, i won't make a fuss."

as hard as it was for you to be ignored, it was harder for chilchuck to ignore you. you weren't even plotting anything.

you'd just sit there eating your sorbet, and he'd look at you like you were the most precious girl in the world. before you could sneak a glance at him, he's back to being stone cold.

you'd wear a skirt too short and he'd have the urge to walk behind you or scold you for wearing it when there were other guys in your party.

you'd trip over an uneven stone, flat on your face, knees scrapped. you'd fight the urge to just start crying, but you remembered chilchuck's words about crybabies.

"whiny little girls are only good for sucking cock. nothing else. so don't go around crying unless you want me to make you stop."

chilchuck saw the nosedive you took into the cement and flinched at the impact. he expected you to cry, but watch you stand up, brush the dust off your skirt and limp behind laois, senshi and marcille who didn't notice your fall.

later that night, you were snuggled under the blankets beside chilchuck, facing away from him. you were used to biting your tongue when you wanted to thoughtlessly talk about your day or fight the urge to just curl up in his arms.

you still had to carry out your punishment, the week wasn't over yet.

"hey angel, you okay?" the week wasn't over, but he'd disregard a punishment to check up on you.

you turned over, your knees stinging from the tiniest movement. you still thought your punishment was in effect, so you didn't respond verbally. you winced, nodding quickly.

"you can talk, it's okay." he cooed softly, placing a hand on your head. your knees throbbed, tears stinging your eyes.

"okay," you hummed quietly, hands still to yourself. he knew you were unsure about him ending the punishment so early, but he wasn't pulling any tricks this time around.

"saw you fall earlier, did you tell marcille to heal your scrapes?" he caressed your hair, coiling the strands around his finger.

"no, didn't wanna bother her," you shook your head, nuzzling yourself into his palm. "it's not that serious, 'm okay."

he frowned at your words. anything in relation to you was always serious. your health and well-being were the top seriousness for him. "lemme see then," he ushered you out of your sleeping bag, pulling you into his lap.

your back was pressed against his chest as he inspected your knees. they were pink, open wounded and prone to infection. "honey, this looks like it hurts." he rubbed your thigh in attempts to comfort you.

"it's okay, i wasn't watching where i was going. it was my fault," you sighed, leaning into the warmth you were deprived of previously.

"will you let me clean you up?" he tilted his head to get a better look of his pretty girl curled up into his lap. his heart swelled at how perfect you looked.

you nodded hesitantly, knowing it would hurt, but you trusted chilchuck and knew he would handle you gently.

he held your hand when the alcohol swab touched your wound, making you whimper and squeal in pain. you tried to stay quiet to avoid the rest of them from waking up, so chilchuck pulled you into his neck to cry.

he'd give you a cute little bandaid with a hearts on it (ones you insisted him on buying) and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

"such a good girl, you did so well for me. i'm so proud, angel," he showered you face in kisses as your heart swelled at the affection. "you're gonna do better from now on, right angel?" he gave you a look, as you nod enthusiastically.

"mhm, promise. don't wanna disappoint you," you leaned into his chest, still holding his hand. "thank you for looking out for me," you kissed his knuckles, holding his hand close to your chest.

"always will," he smiled, hugging you.

[moonselune]

EEE THE INBOX IS OPEN I hope you're at least a lil familiar with dungeon meshi, would you do maybe some headcanons (or whatever works best for you) for your choice of crew with Tav being like Senshi so they're a BOMB ass camp cook and also incredibly resourceful and creative with ingredients and such- no offense to Gale but just like, if Faerun has a similar culinary scene to England like most high fantasy does and then camping on top? then... ya know... euh... BUT IF NOT THEN NO WORRIES- I LOVE YOUR WORK ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I unfortunately have no idea about dungeon meshi but i completely get the concept. Gonna do it for the boyssssss

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Camp was calm, the fire crackling merrily as the group gathered after a long day of adventuring. You had long endured Gale's enthusiastic—but consistently mediocre—attempts at camp cooking. His confidence was unshakable, even in the face of countless charred, bland, or overly experimental meals that left the group quietly swapping snacks after dinner. Gale meant well, and his ego swelled with every polite nod or forced smile after a meal. But tonight, enough was enough.

As Gale hovered over his latest attempt—a watery, over-salted stew with floating lumps of... something—you decided it was time.

"Move over, Gale," you said firmly, stepping beside him with a cooking knife in hand.

He looked up, affronted but amused. "I beg your pardon? Move over? I’m creating an artisanal experience here."

"Artisanal isn’t the word I’d use," you muttered under your breath, then louder, "Look, you’ve done well, but it’s time someone with a bit more culinary experience took charge."

Gale froze, his spoon poised dramatically mid-stir. "Oh? And you believe you’re more skilled than I? A Wizard of Waterdeep? An acclaimed intellectual?" He set the spoon down with exaggerated care, crossing his arms. "Do elaborate."

"I’ve kept quiet long enough," you shot back. "But if I have to eat one more overcooked slab of boar or mystery stew, I’ll lose it. Just let me take over."

Gale smirked, clearly intrigued and slightly offended. "If you think you can do better, darling, the fire is yours. Impress me."

The group, now invested, watched with keen interest as you strode confidently into the supply tent. You emerged moments later with an assortment of herbs, spices, and preserved ingredients you had personally gathered and prepared over the course of your travels. Gale, feigning disinterest, lounged by the fire, but his eyes were glued to your every move.

First, you prepared a base for a savory stew with precision, chopping fresh vegetables, seasoning with a deft hand, and even adding a splash of wine that Gale had claimed for magical rituals. The aromas began to waft through the air, causing Shadowheart to wander closer, feigning an excuse to refill her waterskin. Astarion sniffed the air dramatically, muttering, "Finally, someone in this camp who doesn’t treat food as an afterthought."

Gale’s smirk wavered as you added a homemade spice mix, explaining to the group the balance of flavors—earthy, sweet, and smoky.

"It’s all about layering," you said, casting a sly glance at Gale. "You don’t throw everything in at once and hope for the best."

"I would call that an oversimplification," Gale countered, sitting up straighter.

When dinner was finally served, the group fell into a stunned silence as they took their first bites. Scratch barked happily as he devoured his own share, and even Lae’zel—typically indifferent to culinary flair—muttered, “Efficient and pleasing. Acceptable.”

Gale took a tentative bite, his expression shifting from cautious to betrayed. "Well, it’s not... bad," he admitted grudgingly, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

"Not bad?" Karlach guffawed. "It’s leagues better than the watery shoe-leather you call dinner!"

Gale huffed, folding his arms. "Well, clearly, you’ve had more... practice."

"Oh, stop pouting," you teased, reaching out to pinch his cheek. His indignant yelp only made you laugh harder. "You’re still my brilliant wizard, just not my brilliant chef."

He tried to maintain his grumpy façade, but as you leaned in and kissed him lightly, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. "I suppose I’ll allow this arrangement... for the good of the group."

"Magnanimous of you," you said, laughing, as you handed him another bowl. "Now eat up, Gale. Even a Wizard of Waterdeep needs sustenance."

From then on, camp dinners were a delight, the group often offering to hunt and gather for your concoctions. Gale, in his own way, found new joy in watching you command the firepit and create meals that brought smiles to everyone’s faces. And though he pretended otherwise, you caught him sneaking second helpings of your food more often than not.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The campfire crackled softly as the evening wind danced through the surrounding trees. Dinner preparation was in full swing, with you at the helm. Your skill in the kitchen—or, rather, your campfire culinary prowess—had become legendary among the party. Tonight, though, your focus wasn’t on the usual hearty stews or roasted game. It was on something far more delicate and tailored for one particular companion who had stolen your heart.

Astarion.

He lounged near the fire, idly flipping through a book with the air of someone completely unaffected by mortal concerns like hunger. But you’d noticed how he sometimes watched the others eat with a wistfulness he’d never admit. Being unable to enjoy food as he once did was just another quiet burden he carried, a reminder of what vampirism had stolen from him.

Tonight, you were determined to change that.

The idea had struck you earlier that day while hunting—a blood sorbet. It was resourceful, creative, and perfectly suited to Astarion’s unique palate. After securing the freshest blood you could (thanks to some carefully collected boar blood and a little bit of your own), you set to work. Using a simple chilled container enchanted by Gale to keep things cool and some foraged ingredients for flavor, you worked on crafting something that might actually please Astarion.

When the sorbet was finally ready, you approached him with an air of nonchalance.

“Astarion,” you said, setting the small wooden bowl in front of him, “I made this for you.”

He raised a skeptical brow, setting down his book. “Darling, while I appreciate your boundless generosity, I’ve told you before—food and I no longer have a pleasant relationship.”

You leaned closer, grinning. “This isn’t just food. It’s blood sorbet. Humor me. One spoonful”

Astarion blinked, his red eyes darting to the dish. It was an unexpected gesture, even for you. Slowly, he took the bowl, sniffing delicately before scooping a small amount onto the provided spoon. The crimson, semi-frozen mixture caught the firelight, glinting like rubies.

He hesitated, then slipped the spoon into his mouth.

His reaction was immediate—a slow blink, followed by a faint furrow of his brows. He removed the spoon, turning it over in his hand as though trying to parse what had just happened.

“Well?” you asked, unable to hide the eagerness in your tone.

“It’s…sweet,” he admitted, his voice laden with reluctant surprise. “And oddly palatable. Not quite as… visceral as I prefer my meals, but… impressive nonetheless.”

You grinned triumphantly. “Told you. I’m a culinary genius.”

Astarion chuckled, shaking his head. “I still prefer it straight from your vein,” he said, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt as his eyes lingered on your neck, “but I suppose I can’t fault your creativity.”

“Maybe next time I’ll make you a blood pâté,” you quipped, leaning in slightly. “Or a nice blood reduction to drizzle over some… I don’t know, undead foie gras?”

He rolled his eyes, though his lips curled into a genuine smile. “You are insufferable. Delightful, but insufferable.”

You smirked. “And you love it.”

Astarion leaned back with a contented sigh, swirling the remaining sorbet with his spoon. “Perhaps I do. Though next time, darling, save yourself the effort and just let me drink directly from you. It’s far less fuss, and I promise to be gentle.”

You flushed, unable to keep from laughing at his unabashed audacity. The rest of the party looked on in various stages of amusement and confusion as Astarion savored your latest creation, the blood sorbet proving to be an unexpected success—and a sweet reminder of the lengths you were willing to go to bring a little joy to his long and hungry existence.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The day had been long and grueling, filled with skirmishes and moments of harrowing danger. Wyll sat by the campfire, his posture slouched, his usual poise dimmed by exhaustion. Gale was busy stirring a pot of something that smelled… fine. But fine wasn’t what Wyll needed right now. Fine wouldn’t fill the gnawing emptiness that came from the taxing day. Wyll didn’t say it, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes: he needed something warm, hearty, and comforting. Something that felt like home.

You caught his expression from where you were tidying up your gear. Quietly, you set your things aside and approached him.

“Rough day?” you asked softly, kneeling down beside him.

He glanced up at you and gave a half-smile. “You could say that. But it’s part of the job, isn’t it?”

You hummed thoughtfully, brushing a hand lightly across his forehead, your touch lingering as you pressed a gentle kiss there. “Give me an hour,” you murmured, your voice as soothing as the promise itself. “I’ll take care of it.”

Wyll blinked at you in surprise but didn’t argue. Your confidence had a way of being infectious. As you left the camp, he leaned back with a puzzled but slightly lighter heart, curiosity mingling with the exhaustion.

Exactly an hour later, you returned, carrying a steaming dish and a goblet of wine you’d swiped from Shadowheart’s stash (you’d deal with her later). The smell wafting from the bowl was intoxicating—savory and rich, with hints of roasted herbs and spices that teased at the memory of home-cooked meals.

“Dinner is served,” you declared, handing the bowl to Wyll with a flourish. The smile that spread across his face was immediate as he accepted the dish.

“You are a lifesaver,” he said, voice filled with gratitude. “No, really—this is why I adore you.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “You haven’t even tried it yet. For all you know, I could’ve put a goblin’s toenail in there.”

“If it smells this good, I’d still eat it,” he replied, already picking up a spoon.

Wyll took his first bite, and you held your breath, watching for his reaction. At first, his expression froze, and your stomach sank. Did he hate it? Did you go too heavy on the spices? Did you accidentally add—?

“Oh gods,” Wyll finally said, his voice trembling as tears welled up in his eyes. “It’s… it’s perfect.”

The spoon clattered back into the bowl as he set it down, his hands moving to rub at his eyes. “I—I don’t even know what to say. Thank you. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

A warm smile tugged at your lips, and you reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “You’re welcome, Wyll. You’ve had a hard day. You deserve something to make it a little better.”

“No, seriously,” he said, his voice still thick with emotion. “If I didn’t already love you, this would’ve sealed the deal. You’re incredible.”

You grinned, sitting beside him and nudging him lightly. “Eat up, then. Don’t waste it on tears.”

Wyll chuckled through his sniffles and dug back in, savoring every bite. For the rest of the evening, he didn’t stop singing your praises, his spirits lifted immeasurably by the simple but heartfelt gesture. As far as you were concerned, that alone made the effort worth it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The sun filtered gently through the canopy of the forest as you set the final touches on the picnic you had promised Halsin. The woven basket sat open on the soft blanket, revealing the bounty you had prepared using the finest ingredients the forest had to offer. Halsin approached, his broad frame moving easily through the woods, and his face lit up at the sight before him.

"This is… remarkable," he said, crouching down to take in the spread. "You truly are full of surprises."

You waved off his compliment with a playful smile. "I promised I’d take care of everything, didn’t I? The forest has so much to offer if you know how to look."

On the blanket sat carefully foraged dishes, each showcasing your resourcefulness and creativity. There was a fresh salad of wild greens and herbs, dressed with a vinaigrette made from wildberries. Accompanying it were roasted mushrooms, their caps stuffed with a savory mixture of nuts and herbs. A loaf of dense, nutty bread you’d baked on a hot stone was paired with a small jar of fresh, hand-churned butter, a sprinkle of dried herbs worked into it for flavor.

Halsin’s grin widened as he inspected it all. "And here I thought this picnic would be simple—perhaps some berries and dried meat. But you’ve created a feast!"

As he settled onto the blanket, you passed him a plate, and he dug in eagerly. The pair of you ate amidst light conversation, the forest’s natural symphony providing the perfect backdrop. Every bite Halsin took was met with a hum of approval, his appreciation only making your heart swell with pride.

Once the main meal was finished, you gave him a conspiratorial grin. "I saved the best for last," you said, reaching into the basket.

From it, you produced a small jar of honey-sweetened custard. It was a delicate dessert, crafted with painstaking care using honey you had collected earlier, blended with creamy milk and infused with a hint of lavender. Halsin’s eyes widened as you handed it to him.

"You know my fondness for honey," he said, voice touched with both surprise and delight.

You chuckled. "I might have paid attention to a few things."

Halsin didn’t waste time. Using the spoon you offered, he took a bite, and the look of bliss that crossed his face was worth every moment you’d spent preparing it. He devoured the dessert quickly, barely pausing to breathe, which left you laughing as you noticed a streak of honey glistening on his cheek.

"Slow down, you’re worse than Scratch," you teased, reaching over to wipe the honey away with your thumb.

Before you could pull your hand back, Halsin caught it gently, his warm eyes fixed on yours.

"You’ve truly outdone yourself," he murmured, his voice low and sincere. "But I think I’m still hungry for something else."

You barely had time to respond before he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss. It was warm and sweet, tasting faintly of the honey he’d just devoured, and it stole your breath away. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest.

"You’ve made this day unforgettable," he said softly. "Though I think I may have to insist you let me cook for you next time—if only to match your artistry."

You grinned, your heart fluttering at his words, and nestled closer to him, the remains of the picnic forgotten as you lost yourself in his presence.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope this was okay nonnie! And I hope you guys enjoyed this ! Again thank you all for your sweet comments, hopefully will get back to regular posting soon - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[blvdheart]

THE ART OF SHARING A COWBOY HAT

⇢ arthur morgan x gn!reader + leon kennedy (rdr2 au) x gn!reader

cw: fluff, lighthearted smut, drinking + implications of throwing up, confessions, mentions of children but it’s still gn friendly, prone to typos

note: um i originally wrote this with only arthur in mind but lowkey think it could apply to leon as well, i thought this was a super cute idea !! these are just rambles and written for fun, so excuse any typos eee (⩾﹏⩽)

i. A GENTLEMANLY ACT

you’ve lost count of how many hats you’ve lost over the years — it wasn’t your fault! just a small bicker with a tiny group of o’driscolls usually resulted in your hat being knocked off while you rode your horse and shot at them.

was buying a new one even worth it? with dutch on everyone’s ass about contributing money, not really. as if the bastard actually helped out.

plus…you’d grown to rely on a certain man who always shared his hat with you as if it were co-owned.

amidst a camp out in the open with the sun pouring in through the leaves of the tall trees that surrounded, your eyes were often squinting. everytime you sat in the shade, it moved over within a couple minutes and left you back in the sun. how frustrating.

“you’ll burn to the crisp by letting the sun beam on ya like that.”

before you could look up to face the familiar voice, the bottom of a hat blocked your view and was placed on you. okay, that felt real nice.

or maybe that one time you stumbled out of the saloon, clutching your stomach with your cheeks all puffed, awaiting the harsh liquor that was begging to be thrown out of your system.

it was night time, the dusty dirt paths were still lively with people walking past. but you needed fresh air, so it would have to do.

being the secret softie that he was, he followed you when he noticed that you had practically limped your way out. geez, he’d been in your position too many times — throwing his guts up with his mind swirling.

“lightweight.” he teased, laughing a bit, placing a hand on your back and rubbing it to comfort you.

“oh gimme a break.” you slurred back, already hunched over. “and stay away…’m bout to burst.”

you weren’t kidding.

he placed his hat on you, keeping your face hidden from any passerby’s. because what kind of man would he be if he just let everyone see your pained face? a foolish one, that’s what.

everyone knew he was sweet on you, it was painfully obvious.

ii. SILENT CONFESSION

the air felt still as the two of you stood beside each other, each leaning against the balcony of a hotel. you guys were close, a little too much to be considered just friends.

his elbow was touching yours, and his gaze didn’t stray from you even once. you captivated his entire attention, more so than the clear stars glimmering in the moonlit sky hanging above.

he couldn’t hide his feelings for you, he couldn’t afford to with how unpredictable life was. he didn’t think much of himself, but he’d be damned if he let some other fella swoop in and woo you.

you didn’t need to be helped. there was no sun in your eyes, or rain pouring onto your face, nor was there any need to hide your face.

his eyes strayed to your lips once before looking back into your eyes, trying to read you. the fondness you held gave him some courage.

he took his hat off, his tousled hair now on display, maybe you could run your fingers through it later.

no words were spoken.

he placed his hat on your head, hoping that would convey his message: he wanted to be yours, and for you to be his.

iii. EASING ALL DISTRESSES

having a lover who’s constantly away isn’t for the weak. it has you feeling like a character out of a book who’s described as melancholic, solemnly gazing out into the distance, awaiting the person who sets your soul ablaze and gives you that fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

him.

but he always spends time with you before he leaves, duh.

after he preps his horse for another long journey away, he makes his way over to your worried form. whether you act nonchalant or downright show how concerned you are, it doesn’t matter, he treats you the same, not wanting you to sulk.

“c’mon love, don’t give me that look. i always come back relatively unscathed, don’t i? you’ve got nothing to worry yer pretty little head about.”

you purse your lips. yeah, he was strong and mighty, but you couldn’t get rid of all the thoughts in your head. “yeah, but being worried ain’t a crime.”

with an amused smile, he takes the adornment perched on his head off and puts it atop your own, adjusting it so it fits more properly. “there ya go.”

he always thought you looked awfully beautiful wearing something of his, his hat had always been dear to him, having scratches and flaws here and there from the encounters he faced. it looked perfect on you, and it felt accomplishing, like if the hat itself was some sort of wedding ring.

he cups the side of your face, using his pinky to lift your jaw while his thumb caresses your cheek. “hold onto this for me, okay? keep it on yer head all the time.”

the act alone had you smiling, returning the adoring gaze he looked at you with. he leaned in closer, pressing his lips against yours for a sweet and temporary goodbye.

iv. TANGLED UNDER THE SHEETS

the chilliness of the harsh winter weather seeped through the wood of the cabin. there were plans to get moving somewhere warmer, but it would be a rough journey. maybe you should be resting instead, but you weren’t.

labored breaths and grunts emanated from the room, accompanied by occasional fits of laughter and whispered words. the two of you were going at it like rabbits on your cot, making the room heat up — no chance you were shivering even with the way it was pouring outside.

his hips were snuggled between yours, his cock slowly pumping into you inch by inch. he was going slowly, trying to make the most of the time you guys had here at this cabin.

“i’m getting a cramp, hold on.” you whine the complaint out, needing to get in a different position.

he laughed, peeling himself off you and laying on his back, his chest heaving heavily.

“what are ya laughing at? you try having your legs up in the air for that long.” you huff as you moved over to straddle him.

“i think i’ll pass on that.”

he always thought you looked amazing on top of him, his eyes sparkling with utmost devotion. naked, vulnerable, so willing to show him every part of you. he loved it.

“ya gonna ride me? i think you’re missing something.” without missing a beat, he reached up for his hat, taking it off and sitting up to place it on you. his free hand snaked down to your ass, giving it a couple pats. “that’s better, now you’re ready.”

you grinned, pressing your hands against his chest to push him back down towards the surface of the cot.

he held onto the back of one of your hands, his other one reaching to hold his cock, letting you sink down onto him. he couldn’t take his eyes off your face though, watching as it contorted into one of pure ecstasy.

v. FAMILY HEIRLOOM

he’s a romantic at heart, he liked the idea of having a hat just for the two of you. he has plenty of others though, that can be passed onto any children you two have or take in as a part of your family — ones they could grow into.

that longing came into fruition. his arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. your eyes were trained on your two children, just a couple years apart, running around aimlessly because the hats their pops put on them were so big it covered their eyes.

“careful…” you mumbled under your breath, not wanting them to fall on any branches or injure themselves. not like they heard you, obviously, but your lover did.

“they’re tough as nails already, jus’ like us..” he reassured you, but it was met by a skeptical glance from you, rightfully so.

“i know, i know…they’re so tiny though, i don’t wanna see even a small scrape on them.”

“worrywart.”

[fractualized]

GREAT! Now we got *two* instances of someone accusing batman of loving the joker after they killed him

Thanks a lot Jason Alexander and Rodney Barnes I will never recover

Eee hee hee, we do! But in "Perp Walk," Bruce practically admits it.

Compare to the other instance, in Injustice: Gods Among Us #4 (released as #11 digitally):

In Injustice, Bruce denies it, but it's not explicit what he's denying. Everything that Clark is saying, or just the part where Clark implies that Bruce didn't care what happened to other people?

In "Perp Walk," Bruce's response to the shooter is different:

He pauses, then gives an evasive denial, asking a question instead of simply saying no. And then when the shooter answers, "Another madman," clearly implying he means Batman, Bruce says, "Keen observation," implying that he is correct. And to round that off, the shooter goes from believing Batman will be relieved to have this burden taken off his shoulders to believing Batman is going to kill him. You know, like he never killed his supposed burden, the Joker.

Just. AHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

[ariseur]

Mngghhwhw your writing makes me feel all mushy gushy I adore it

Could I ask for Dante x oblivious reader? 🦀🦀

dante with an oblivious reader 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

eee!! i’m glad you guys like my writing, i hope i did this request justice 😭😭

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

intended lowercase, dante being a flirty bastard, nico and nero mentioned so kinda set in dmc5?? but you can imagine it’s anyone else / ignore the hc :), lmk if i missed anything!! 💕

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ hmm.. dante with an oblivious reader, where to begin..

❥ i think dante would think you were teasing him at first, always having him repeat things or tilt your head at a certain remark. he’d laugh it off and shake his head, leaving you to furrow your brows in thought of what he meant.

❥ you obviously know what flirting is, but even when it’s so painfully in front of your face, you just can’t seem to see it for some reason. and when dante realizes this, he’s suddenly like ‘oh that makes sense’ and everything clicks. so he only turns up the flirting times ten.

❥ tries to drop more direct hints and direct comments but i imagine he’d either just make you flustered or— with his luck, get interrupted and would eventually end in you not taking a hint once again.

❥ if you were traveling with nico and nero, they’d literally be BEGGING you to see the signs. which you’d be confused by because— dante’s just a friend? sure he gets a little flirty, but he’s like that with everybody!!

❥ and they’re just, “no honey, no 🙂”

❥ dante tries his best to be as forward as possible.. without telling you that he has feelings for you.. without simultaneously trying to say it in a way where he doesn’t sound like a weirdo?

❥ dante does find your oblivion cute, rather purposefully teasing you and cornering you, even gently grabbing your chin and lifting it up to make eye contact with him if you’re too embarrassed. so then you’ll have to finally understand what he’s doing right??

❥ and if you don’t, oh my goodness he’s out of ideas.

❥ he will just straight up tell you “i want you” and you’re just like “oh. so everybody else was right!!” 😭

❥ he still finds your cluelessness adorable, even if he struggles with having you take a hint most of the time. dante almost finds it.. endearing? you may not be innocent or clueless about everything, but he just likes teasing you when he can lol.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

“i’m tellin’ ya,” nico put her hand on your shoulder as she turned her head and exhaled some smoke, “DANTE’s sweet on ya.”

you scoffed and turned back to the road, trying to ignore the way she smirked at your annoyance. “he does not.”

“does too.”

“does not!”

“does—!” before this bickering back and forth could go on any longer, nero silenced both of you with a sleepy, “shut up.”— to which both you and nico silently snickered and turned your attention back to the road, starting up the engine and heading off again.

that late night conversation floated mindlessly around your head, barely occurring even when you talked to dante. he couldn’t have had feelings for you, right? dante was just.. dante. he practically flirted with everybody, shamelessly at that.

but when you’d spot him at the office or across the numerous groups of demons littering the desolate vicinities, nico’s face always came to mind. that stupid grin on her face when you’d deny it and the way she gave you a dismissive hum when you told her it’d never happen. you didn’t want it to happen, why would you? dante wasn’t for you. why would you be considering these possibilities when there was no way dante could have feelings for you?

until he did. you had thought that until now, where he caged you in between the wall and pierced through you with his silver eyes, one quality him and his brother shared, although dante’s were much more lenient.

“hello?” his voice broke through the thoughts clouding your brain. he cocked his head in bemusement, waiting for a reaction from you.

“what were you saying?”

“i’m saying that i like you.”

you paused as your eyes darted everywhere but him. surely, you looked frazzled and embarrassed at the proximity of you and dante— before you finally said, “oh.” he had said it so nonchalantly, as if it was common knowledge. you thought back to nico and wondered if she really was trying to help you that night.

“so..” awaiting an answer, dante quirked a brow as he threw you another lazy grin, perhaps amused in your flustered state. “what ever shall we do about that?” leaning in closer, you could see his eyes staying fixated on your face, although your kept your own pair glued to the side.

“i dunno.” you rushed out.

dante pouted, “you don’t know? c’mon, you must have some idea.”

“a.. date?” wincing at how awkward you sounded, you tore your eyes from a spot in the hardwood floors of the devil may cry office and back onto him. an evident pleased look on his face told you that he was finally glad you figured it out. he backed away from you and put a hand on his hip.

letting a soft laugh escape his lips, he pushed back his hair, “so i’ll pick you up at nine, tomorrow?”

[fourfanetc]

dark…. medieval… mystery drama…. rants beloww

PRISMO the Wizard Merchant:

An elusive wizard in the lands of Eee, his trades and powers are heavily sought after, with hundreds going through numerous perils just to be granted one single wish.

He was once mortal with a shop located in the heart of the kingdom, with his popularity rising throughout the years. Reaching the pinnacle of his powers with aging becoming a road block, he was granted immortality, reverting back to his peak years and now roams throughout the lands, becoming enclosed from society.

In this AU, Scarab’s attention was brought to him as he was practicing dark magic in order to bring mortals (Fionna and Cake) back to life.

Adding onto this, I should probably say that Prismo does not know them personally, instead watching them from a distance on their adventures.

SCARAB the Carmine Knight:

A “noble” knight stationed at the heart of the kingdom, he’s tasked with hunting and retrieving rogue citizens, vigilantes, anything or anyone that could disturb or disrupt the lands of Eee.

With his failure to capture the then wanted Prismo in violation with the usage of his magic, he was assigned to work under him, to protect in from any harm instead.

Instead of a sword he wields a magical crystal, similar with the one in the show, functioning the same as well.

Miscellaneous:

Prismo earned their immortality, proving themselves worthy to ascend to a higher degree than mortals. While on the other hand, Scarab is not immortal, instead having a longer life span in his species’ case.

At some point Scarab’s assignment to work under Prismo was demolished, being offered his old position back. He declined, finding being Prismo’s knight enthralling, traveling to different corners of Eee thrilling.

Prismo is (somewhat) human while Scarab is still a cutie patootie bug under all that metal.

I’m not sure if I worded this correctly a while ago but Prismo was old man Prismo at some point centuries ago but is now in his 20-30’s physically because I can’t draw senior citizens. like I’d like to but I can’t.

Yes their land is called Eee,… because it is also a vowel that makes sense if you say it out loud… I’m sorry if this idea exists already….

Prismo got off scott free because dark magic was of great value and the higher ups wanted to learn it or something idk. sorry if this explanation is basic im so eepy (it kinda went like yoo you can being back the dead?? that’s so useful for war dude could you teach us??)

Im so crazy over them….. they got rid of my interest of fourx which lasted for 2 years in a week im still conflicted about it

[coastershells]

M Y D A R L I N G . .

IN WHICH — dally is head over heels for you .

not proofread, and rushed !! / requested? | no : yes

⊹ ࣪౨ৎ˚₊

when dally first met you, he thought you’d be just another, normal girl. the gang had invited you to hang out with them pretty often, though you were always quiet. by choice, of course.

now, with dally around, he flirted. that’s all he does, he’s a flirter. he flirts with every girl he sees. though he couldn’t stand you at first, he began to flirt with you.

and it began to get more.. intense.

every chance he got, every time e you spoke — you didn’t even have to speak. he’d speak to you. after hanging out with the gang, he’d stick near you, take you, ponyboy, and johnny out to the drive in, do nothing legal, and cause trouble all over.

but it’s okay! he’s just doing it because you’re apart of the gang, it wouldn’t be cool to leave you out.

even when he invites you over to buck’s house to just ‘hang out’ .

he just doesn’t want you left out.

even when he takes you out for car rides with no one but you and him — it’s just a act of kindness.

but it hit him.

he’s never kind.

but he is to you.

ever since he met you.

nothing but kindness.

and he realized it, all too slow, that he had fell for you.

and goddamnit, he fell hard.

but as soon as he realized, he knew he couldn’t wait.

not for a second.

“ dal? “ you question, sitting on the edge of his bed, playing with the matching necklace resting on your collarbone that he bought stole for you. you tilted your head at his puzzled face. he seemed to twitch when your soft voice came out yet again. “ what’s got you deep in thought like that ? “ you reach over to put a hand on his shoulder, and slightly move more towards him.

dally blinks before responding. “ holy fuck , doll. I’m stupider than you are. “

you scrunch your nose at his remark, and slap him slightly on the back of his head. “ hey! I’m not stupid , what’s your proble—“

“ i’m in love with you. “

“ … what? “

“ dollface , “ he grabs the hand you hit him with and gives it a peck. you flinch. that’s new.

“ i’m inlove with you. and if im not even stupider than I think already , you are too. “

you stare blankly for a second , body warming up , and then you sigh.

“ dals… I— yes , shit. i am. it took you long enough to notice that yourself. “ you tease.

“ would you shut up and kiss me already? you’re practically beggin for it. “

and he never had to ask again.

eee I’m back !! as a completely different person.. ^_^

owned by prowlerverse, do not reupload or I’ll explode ur pancakes with my mind… mailbox is: open !!

[runningfrom2am]

michigan cherry // part six

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 2.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee. also not thoroughly proofread oops

the songs in this chapter are: "scared of my guitar" by Olivia Rodrigo, "Michigan Cherry" by River Whyless, "Traveling Song" by Ryn Weaver, "Slim Pickins" by Sabrina Carpenter, and "Adore You - Acoustic" by Maisie Peters !!

a/n: ahhh hi it's my birthday! super excited to share this with you guys even though it isn't all that special or exciting but i'm just happy to be back :). last year for my birthday i posted in this life or the next and i wanted to finally get part 3 of that up today but that just wasn't going to happen BUT for everyone asking i am working on it. i swear. i'm not giving up on it!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

You thought that you might have heard somewhere that music is to the soul as opium is to a stubborn cough.

Or, maybe you dreamt that. Regardless, you knew for certain now that it was bullshit. But, with nowhere else to place your heartache, you found yourself sitting by a fire nearly every night with your guitar in your lap, humming soft words under your breath and plucking the strings as gently as you could.

It was for work, yes, but like opium, you had long since become addicted to the routine. Billy had too.

"You can play a little louder, y'know." He hums, tossing a broken twig into the campfire that separates you. "I was promised music in exchange for my services."

"And you get your music." You chuckle, hand pressed over the strings to stop their hum. "You haven't missed a show in almost two months, that ain't enough?"

"Sure, I'm just sayin' don't hold back your practice on my account. I'm happy to listen again." He answers with a soft smile, the yellow glow from the flames warming his features and bathing him in light.

You can't help the matching twitch of your lips to return his, feeling the slight burn in your cheeks that you can't confidently attribute to either the fire or your own blushing. "Well, it ain't much to listen to yet. Not finished."

"Ah, somethin' new?" Billy asks, leaning back on his palms and watching you expectantly as you give him a slight nod.

You're leaning over your guitar to scribble in that little notebook of yours, the pencil almost nothing more than a little nub in your hands and the pages of the book almost filled to the brim with words and notes. The temptation he faces every day to just grab it while you're sleeping or out away from the camp on a little walk has become an almost unbearable curiosity.

Because yes, he loves the songs you do sing, but what he wouldn't give to hear the ones you don't.

Billy would dive at any opportunity to see just a little more into your beautiful mind.

"Yeah, kinda." You hum in response, distracted again by the strings of your guitar effectively wrapping around your heart and your fingers and dragging your attention back to it.

"Okay, then, let me hear what you have so far."

You hate doing that, normally. You would hardly even play incomplete songs for your family when they were around- that awkward moment where you just have to trail off and go "Um, that's all I have..." and try to laugh but not too awkwardly was something painful.

But, this was Billy. Something about him compelled you to agree.

The problem was, the song you were currently meddling with the idea of may or may not be about him. You'd like to confirm with yourself that no, it is not about Billy, but damnit- he's the only person in your life. What else were you meant to write about?

You look down at the pages next to you, narrowed eyes reading over your own writing.

'Perfect, easy, so good to me. So why's there a pit in my gut, in the shape of you'-

Nope, nope, no. He's not hearing that.

You could deny all you wanted that the unfinished song was about him, try and claim to yourself that it was about Max- but deep down you knew the direction it was going.

You flick through the most recent pages, trying to spark your memory of something safer.

'Tart and sweet like a wild berry Tart and sweet your words to me Dark and red like a Michigan cherry Dark and red as the Iliad sea Here we lie in the deep night ready Here we lie, our skin is bare'-

That's definitely not going to work either. Your cheeks get somehow hotter and you clear your throat, flipping the page again.

Okay, this is much better.

"Like I said, it ain't done, so... not much to it yet, but..." You say, clearing your throat and avoiding his eyes as you quickly scan the new page again and position your fingers over the guitar strings.

Billy gives you a steeled nod, sitting up a little straighter ready to listen as if he would be a judge of the quality of your music. It was a joke, you both knew it. He knew he couldn't come up with a critiquing word toward your music if he was held at gunpoint and forced to try.

"Nobody knows where they are going Oh, how we try to wrap our minds Over the edge of all our knowings Be it a bang or the divine Tip of my iceberg blues are showing I've never been one for goodbyes So, 'til I meet you there, I'm singing A traveling song to ease the ride And so you know, everywhere I roam I'll see you on the road."

Your voice is steady, focussed on getting it out rather than dwelling on the meaning of the words and Billy could tell.

"So farewell to my friend, He who taught me to love like a beast And to feast like the queen that he fed turtle soup Little boy from Paris to the States, check the facts That was Magical Max He was black sheep and mischief and love for his craft..."

His heart leaps at the little laugh that falls from your lips at the memory of your friend, your fingers slowing their strum to a steady halt. He doesn't expect you to continue, but you do, your smile quickly fading again back into an attempt at indifferent focus.

"Then he told me that I was starlights that shine On that very last day, he said "Shoot for your dreams, little girl, to the stars" Well, I'm taking you with me Now this one is ours and I know what you'd say you'd say "On with the show!" So on we go."

How embarrassing it is to almost cry singing a song that isn't done, for your best friend who would never live to hear it. Whose memory deserved to be shared. It wouldn't get very far if you couldn't even share it with one person; if you couldn't even stomach finishing it.

"Um, so... I'm not sure about chording for that last bit, or honestly the lyrics. I think it feels better without the guitar, but..." You say quickly, focussing yourself on your book and pretending to scribble something in it just so you wouldn't have to look at the boy sitting across the fire from you.

"I think it's perfect." Billy tells you, a softness to his tone you only had the pleasure of hearing once in a blue moon.

What he meant to say was that it's beautiful, that it's a flawlessly fitting tribute that he felt lucky to hear, that when sung by an angel's voice like yours he didn't doubt for a second that your friend Max had heard it from beyond the veil and loved it too. Even unfinished.

None of that was what came out though, essentially awestruck the way he always was at your shows- but this time he was able to actually speak to you after hearing it instead of just clapping, whistling, or if he was lucky, catching your gaze with a smile and a corny thumbs up that told you he thought you were doing great. Not that you needed it.

"Thanks." Your sweet voice replies, watching him for a moment you determine to be too long before your focus is back on the notebook next to you. "Anyway, um, if you want to hear something else unfinished, this one I think is going to be kind of funny."

"Show me what you've got, then."

Billy simply couldn't resist anymore.

Sitting absentmindedly on a hay bale in a barn where a local owner was gracious enough to let the two of you stay, that damned notebook seems to be glowing right in his face from the sunlight streaming through some bullet holes in the wood paneling that made up the side of the stable.

It's taunting him, he's sure of it.

This stare-down has been going on for about ten minutes since you left it out on the ground next to your guitar to go use the homeowner's washbasin to clean up when his wife offered- you weren't going to turn down a bath that wasn't in a creek.

That would probably take you a while though, you'd likely savour it, so he could just take a look. You'd sing him pretty much anything asked, and what could possibly be more vulnerable than that song you wrote about Max that you shared with him a couple of weeks ago? Surely you wouldn't mind all that much. On the off chance you ever found out. Which, of course, you wouldn't- because he would put it right back where it was after just skimming it.

It's not Billy's fault your handwriting just looks so pretty and you're a poet without publication privileges- it would just be a waste if no one ever read your pretty musings written oftentimes to no one.

And still, he convinces himself again, that you would never know.

He gets up and studies the book to make sure he could put it back down at the right angle before picking it up, hands gentler than they have ever been- like he was touching his mother's precious crystal vase, a wedding gift that had been long lost to time in several moves across the sea and then the country.

He opens the notebook and immediately he can see how you've grown since this book was first picked up by your delicate hands. How your print has changed from beginning to almost end, the pages all wrinkled from spills and humidity and time.

How lucky, he thinks, to be chosen by you for this journey of your life. Why does he feel so much camaraderie for a book?

He skims the pages, delighted to see that it isn't just full of words but drawings too; the sweetest most delicate doodles of little things like your guitar or a flower here and there squeezed in amongst the words on the pages. The amount of talent one young woman could possess astounded him, it's shocking that it doesn't drip out of your every pore in the very black ink that you use to write. 

He can't help smiling a little to himself as he reads the scrawled titles and lyrics to songs he recognizes and he can practically hear your beautiful voice singing every word he's already heard.

'A boy who's nice that breathes- I swear, he's nowhere to be seen.'

That was the funnier song you sang to him those odd weeks ago, and just remembering the small laugh that fell from your lips as you sang the words makes him chuckle too as he reads it.

You had told him you wrote it with Sarah, and he could tell- based on the two distinctive styles of handwriting squeezed onto the small page.

He begins to realize as he flips through the pages of the small tattered notebook resting in his lap, that you had been dating the pages. Finished songs had dates of beginning and completion going back a little over a year, and he figures this must not be the first one you've gone through.

Billy comes to the near back of the notebook, as much as he would love to spend all day reading every word you'd ever translated turning your life into poetry or ballads of melodic storytelling, he knew his time was limited.

One song in particular catches his attention, though.

'So high that I am floating, So good that I'm out of my head. So low baby I was hurting, you made it better again.

Oh, we got caught in a moment, and I'll lay with you all night. So good that now I'm hoping you'll hold me down for life.

I adore, I adore, I adore you.'

The corners of his lips twitch up in a smile as he reads the words, scribbled out and rewritten several times in some places.

It's unfinished, but dated to have been started a couple of weeks ago. He remembers you had asked him what the date was that day, and saw you write it down as he answered- your hair falling over your face and brushing your shoulders as it shielded the book from his view.

A couple weeks ago.

And the drawing- oh, how his heart flutters in his chest so quickly it feels like his ribs have transformed into a sparrow's cage.

To Billy, it looked like him. He knew he must be thinking crazy, after all, it had been a while since he had had a proper look in a mirror, but it sure felt like he was right now- down to the little feathers on his hat and the shape of his cupid's bow. You had given yourself away with the scope of your artistic faith.

"What are you doing?"

At the sound of your voice, slightly hesitant as you stand in the entrance to the barn, he slams the book shut and jumps just about a foot in the air; a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"N-nothing! I just, it just- um..." It was still clutched in his hands, already weary of parting with the precious object of your affections. "It, um... It fell, and I- I just picked it up, and-"

When he looks up at you, you look mildly horrified; cheeks burning the same way his are and eyes blown wide like you had been the one who was caught doing something wrong.

Neither of you move, both frozen on the spot, terrified of the next words that might fall from the lips of the other.

You weren't about to incriminate yourself by asking in a shaky voice if he had read or looked at any of it, knowing he did, and he wasn't going to ask if that song or any others he skimmed (and wish he took more care reading) were about him like he hoped they were.

After a moment of staring at each other like both of you were hostages with guns to your head respectively, you both decide to make the first move at the exact same time. He quickly holds the book out to you at the very moment you reach out to take it, and the awkward exchange makes you want to curl up under the hay bale you were meant to sleep on and rot there.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[drabblesandimagines]

Omg happy early birthday!! 🎈🎂 I hope your birthday week is phenomenal and you are able to spend it with all your loved ones! ❤️🩵🩷 Thank you for providing such wonderful writing with such good portrayals of many characters. You are without a doubt one of my favorite writers 🫶🏻💫

As for the ask, I'm thinking about a laid back breakfast in bed with Leon. Up to you though.

Again happy early birthday 🥳🎉

Thank you so much, sweet anon! And, eee, that's so sweet of you! I'm truly honoured that anyone my stuff, but to read that I'm one of your favourite writers is so mind-blowing!

Hope you enjoy x

Breakfast In Bed Leon Kennedy x female reader, fluff

You wake up, alone, to an annoying, repetitive and shrill beep, but it’s not your alarm clock…

You sit bolt upright with in realisation.

It's the smoke alarm.

You wrestle the covers that have become entwined between your legs as you slept and stumble out of bed in a panic, nearly face-planting into the door. You throw the door open to a whiff of acrid smoke, and hear Leon curse from the kitchen in between the beeps.

By the time you get to the kitchen, you find your boyfriend frantically whipping a tea towel back and forth at the smoke alarm, the windows now thrown wide open, and a smoldering frying pan of something in the sink.

The beeping finally ceases and Leon gives it one last whack of the tea towel as he sighs in relief. He runs a hand through his hair, places the other on his hip and turns - his eyes widen when he sees you stood there. You tilt your head inquisitively.

“What…!”

Before you can finish your question, Leon has stepped forward and thrown you over his shoulder. “Uh-uh, nope. The birthday girl gets breakfast in bed.”

“Leon!” You protest, unable to hold back a giggle as he strides back towards the bedroom and carefully drops you onto the mattress in a practiced motion.

“Mm-mm, it’s tradition.”  

“Is it tradition to burn down the apartment too?”

He rolls his eyes as he leans over you, caging you between his forearms. “Dunno what you’re talking about, sweetheart. Smoke alarm was due its monthly check.”

“Interesting timing.”

“Well, what greater gift on your birthday than to be safe in the knowledge that all the alarms are in working order? Now…” he tugs the blanket back up over your torso, unable to resist pressing a kiss to your lips – soft and slow, perfect for that time of the morning. Just as you were about to raise your hand to thread your fingers through his hair, he pulled back with a smirk.

“Now, I just need a little time to finish breakfast off, so if you could please just stay tucked up until I can bring you it in bed?”

You nod – you’d never been able to refuse him when he kissed you just so and especially then combined with those puppy dog blue-eyes.

“Good.” He smiles, giving you a kiss to the forehead before he retreats.

You dutifully wait in bed, scrolling through your phone, ignoring the fact that no further noise comes from the kitchen, but the apartment door definitely opens and closes 20 minutes later…

It isn’t much longer after that when Leon steps into the bedroom, a tray in hand. He places it carefully on your lap - a stack of chocolate chip pancakes, a glass of orange juice and a mug of coffee.

“Leon, this is so sweet." You beam, picking up a fork, ready to dig in.

They look suspiciously like your favourite order from the cafe down the street.

He has a sheepish smile on his face as he climbs into bed besides you, kissing your temple.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

*Photo credit.

[achillean-knight]

WOOO THIS WAS A FUN ONE, AND I DIDN'T PONDER ON IT UNTIL EVENING LIKE YESTERDAY JKSHJGSD Mettaton May Day 27 GAME

(context and info under the cut, it's alot so yah!)

SOOOO the reason I went with this style is both to harken back to my Final Fantasy pixel art I made with Mettaton that was ORIGINALLY gonna be my Day 27 art, but I finished it wayy earlier and just uploaded it as is (You can find it here) And also did this to admittedly practice the Final Fantasy Brave Exvius pixel sprite art that I love so dearly 👉👈

I hope this is adequate for the prompt, I hope it wasn't something like board games or JKHJGHSDSDHJ BC LIKE I had the idea of a Final Fantasy reference for Day 27 for a while now, I just had to do it EEE

Was also gonna do a Final Fantasy design for him that I gave up on Bc I kinda made it a bit too detailed and it drained me KUDSD But ya'll can have the wip LMAOOO

Might play around with that accidental artstyle, I kinda like it KJJHDGSDJKSDGJ

[of-many-fandomss]

Pietro Maximoff x reader blurb where she's an avenger and he's just joined (he didn't die) every single time he talks, the reader just blushes because she ADORES his accent. He starts to notice and confront her and it's just lots of fluff?

Eee yayyy my first pietro request!!!

—————

“Sleep well, love?”

It was a phrase so simple, yet so beautiful. The words rolled off his tongue so casually that if you didn’t know any better, you would have said that he practiced making it seem exactly so.

The second that accent reached your ears, you knew you’d be reduced to nothing but a pile of mush and adoration for the Sokovian man.

You felt your cheeks warm and your eyes quickly flitted downwards, moving hastily around him to reach the fridge, “Y-yeah, you stuttered out, “I slept fine.”

Pietro’s eyebrows went up as he observed you, a small smirk playing at the ends of his lips. He found it absolutely adorable whenever you got flustered over nothing.

But then again, the second he always began talking to you, you would shut down and leave the room in a speed that oftentimes even gave him whiplash.

He decided enough was enough.

“Love?” He called out curiously, not missing the way you froze immediately, “Why don’t you like me?”

You whipped around automatically at his words with wide, disbelieving eyes, “W-why do I what?” You asked.

“Why don’t you like me?” He repeated, leaning to rest his forearms against the counter, “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me ever since I moved in here.”

“Wh-no-no! That’s not it at all!” You stuttered out, horror painted onto your face that he could even think such things.

“Then what is it?” He titled his head to the side.

“It’s your accent!” You blurted out suddenly, before immediately looking like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Clearly, you hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“You hate me because of … my accent?” He asked in even more confusion than before.

You were now blushing furiously, but you already said it, might as well get it all out at once, “I love your accent.” You corrected with a mumble, “And I really like you, but don’t know how to start a conversation.”

If you had the option to, you would’ve turned on your heel and begun repeatingly hitting your head against the wall.

His smile softened as he noticed your embarrassed state, choosing to stick out a hand, “How about we start over then?” He asked confidently, “I’ll even start the conversation… Hi! I’m Pietro.” He greeted with a sly smirk.

Gently, you took his outstretched hand and shook it, “Hi, Pietro.” You murmured, not able to believe what was happening, “It’s nice to meet you.”

You just got more adorable every time you said something new, he determined a second later.

“And it is so lovely to meet you too, love.”

[jjtheresidentbaby]

hi mootie!! first of all your blog looks absolutely beautiful I wanna eat it!! nom nom :3

and second a rq: any hcs for reg!van & cg!tai?? or a blurb or whatever you're comfortable with doing for them atm!! (/nf ofc :3)

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˖ ⋆.. little!van & caregiver!tai headcanons ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ ˚₊

eee hii! thank you for the compliment! I spent forever looking for the perfect set up for my nav post hehe - also I could totally make a part two of this if you’d like!

warnings: pre canon & canon events mentioned , little!nat & cg!travis mention

started before the crash at one of their many sleepovers at tai’s house!

van is superrrrr anxious & shy about her regression at first but tai takes to the cg role in no time at all

lost of playing outside!

they use the excuse that they’re practicing to try and get to nationals but it mostly dissolves into van giggling while keeping the ball from tai and tai pretending to be worse than she is so van can win

van’s a kiddo regressor but can sometimes fall to the toddler range

tai has no preference for what age range van falls to and is prepared for everything

she always has a first aid kit on standby for when van inevitably scrapes up her knee or gets sticks stuck in her hair

after the crash, van does her best to not regress or even talk about the possibility

they’re trying to survive and van thinks her regressing would only be a bad thing in a time like this

of course tai is adamant that if she needs to regress she should and nothing should stop her from coping, especially with what’s going on

the first time van does regress in the wilderness it’s in private while it’s still warm out and tai & her can go to the lake for a bit

the others don’t find out van’s a little until winter comes and she’s bound to the cabin because it’s too cold to go out and play

tai is more nervous than van is about the other finding out, but that’s mostly because van is too small in her headspace to think about it, mostly everyone is okay with van regressing with a few exceptions but everybody comes around eventually

van & nat start to play together by the fire while tai & travis watch over them

tai takes a lot of pride in how she cares for van and how happy she can make her kiddo

van’s regression doesn’t become emotional for her until after jackie dies & they’re forced to eat her

she struggles a lot with feeling ‘worthy’ of regressing since jackie lost the rest of her youth

taissa always logics her way out of that spiral and most times it ends in van involuntarily regressing and curling up with tai as tai tells her a story

van is ofc the groups storyteller but she loves it when tai tells her made up stories while she’s small, and she may add her two cents every now and then but tai doesn’t mind & welcomes van to show her creativity

once it’s warm again, lots of games of tag & made up adventure games ensue now that the other girls know about van’s regression and she doesn’t have to hide or be worried

tai absolutely thrives seeing how much light returns to van during the spring/summer

[dnbcoded]

cdnb prompt: after his first encounter with ctechno, cdream uses high heels shoes bc doesn't want to look so short next to him and in the middle of doomsday ctechno finds out about this

OK. Let me see if I still got it.

He doesn't notice, at first. There's too much more things going on in his life to even begin to think about it.

Dream's sudden growing sprout is one of those things that he misses in the middle of everything, but still takes notes, waiting for the second he can finally go hibernate and think about it. In fact, he was waiting for that little retrive to capture everything about Dream and just shove it in a box and stop having to take note of everything that Dream does.

He is not repressed, chat. Shut up.

He doesn't notice, and he plans on not noticing, until Dream's little grubby, greedy, slender and surprisingly well cared for hands--until Dream gets him involved like the meddlesome man he is. Suddenly they were walking towards L'manberg's demise as Dream has wanted since basically forever, and Techno realizes --only the slightless bit regretfully-- that he played right into his hand. With horror, he finds himself anything but angry at being so easily led to a solution that benefits Dream and only Dream; rather, he thinks it's a little endearing, and that cannot be possible.

He tried to remind himself about how terrible Dream is as they walk, but the man is anything but subtle, there's a pep to his step--hes practically walking without his soles touching the ground from how excited he is, and he's talking Techno's ear off about how he plans to build the platform for the bombs, and he can hear his shit-eating grin as he discusses how little of L'manberg there will be left.

He's only a pig, after all. So he takes note of all of it, and tries his best to ignore it. He ignores, too, the way they're basically the same size, towering over Philza who's actually doing his job at scouting the terrain so they're undetected at dawn. He pretends he just trusts Philza's judgement, and not that he's terribly charmed by the other man.

This wasn't always the case. Once upon a time, Dream was at least a foot shorter, and more irritating than lovely, and he didn't talk about destruction. There was a hesitancy that Techno recognized as human. He had overcome doubt, and thus, humanity--while remaining mortal. Techno... was intrigued by that. (He'll only stop denying this fleeting crush once it's efficiently death and the recipient of his current adoration is long gone, he promises.)

Now, he's tall and regal, and as deathly as ever. He's a wildfire, a burning lamp. Techno is better than a moth.

His eyes still rake over the figure as he starts towering up, occupying only the faint morning lights as guide. Techno notes the possible enchanted nature of his mask, and hates himself for it.

It's as he's watching, that he notices.

"Bro, are those high heels?" And all at once Dream's height makes sense, even though it shouldn't matter to Techno. He's still gawking at the man who's--blushing. That's a blush on the edge of his ears, not covered by a hoodie for once.

"That's--shut up, don't be an idiot." He hisses, his mask suddenly pointing towards Philza as if scared he'll hear. Oh, this is fascinating.

"Nothin' wrong with being fashionista, I tell you." Techno says, smug, leaning the faintest bit down to look at Dream directly. "But a man that's, ah, homeless... you would think he had better priorities than heels."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, I HAVE A HOUSE!" Dream shrills, effectively making Techno lean away. Then his arms cross on front of his torso, the picture of a diva. The heels are a deep green, and they click as he steps back. Oh, how didn't Techno notice?

You were trying hard not to notice, chat whispers. Then, of course, it notices it has Techno's attention. eee, EEE, DREAMSIMP, dream dream dream, Dream in chat, hi techno :), eeeE, STOP SIMPING.

"Not denying the fashionista allegations, I see." Techno replicates. His companion huffs, and then turns back to finally get to tower up. And this time Techno allows himself to notice the shape of his legs--and no, he's not being weird, Dream's ass is on the way okay-- and the way it curls with the distinct form of a trained heel wearer. Techno has no thoughts about Dream's skintight pants nor the way the heels are beautifully integrated into his body, to the clear attention to detail Dream used to pride in, that he still has.

Something in Techno's chest aches. But it's barely morning, and they have a job to do.

"If you wanted to see how it felt to be tall," he calls back, placing a lazy hand around to make his voice sound louder. "You could've just asked for me to carry you."

SHUT THE FUCK UP, Dream whispered in chat.

[kisscara]

O6. 1+ student council member! [fanboy!scaramouche x drummer!reader] ⎯⎯ heartbeat rhythm series

a/n: once again ignore the dates 3__3

"God, your hands are so soft even though you've been drumming for awhile," scaramouche mutters, his charming blue eyes now half-lidded as he runs his fingertips across every line of your palm. a tinted pink coats your face from the compliment. 'he must be drunk.' you sheepishly smile, "thank you, pres-"

"just call me scaramouche outside of school grounds. it's weird if you say that in public." scaramouche rests his head in his hand and takes another sip from his shot glass. "you're quite interesting, (name). are drums hard to play?" he asks, swirling the liquid in his cup.

kaeya is at the front counter looking for a waiter to get the check from while the girls are escorting a very wasted kazuha to kaeya's car in the parking lot. that left you with scaramouche at the table. "it can be a little bit of difficult and a little bit of easy at times. but with a lot of practice, i get the hang of it," you meekly reply.

suddenly, scaramouche leans in towards you, nearly closing the distance between the two of you completely. from this angle, you can see how flushed he appears. just how drunk is he? scaramouche tilts his head and you're sure that anyone looking at this scene from a certain perspective would think that the two of you were kissing.

"do you like me?"

at his question, your pupils dilate in surprise. "yeah, i mean, no, well yeah, i like you but not in that way, you know!..." you hurriedly stammer out words in a panic. scaramouche returns to a normal distance and chuckles, "don't worry, i was just joking. but seriously, i'd be lucky if someone like you liked me."

it's like the whole world stopped. you look at him with a brow slightly furrowed. what yanfei said couldn't possibly be true, could it? scaramouche keeps his gaze locked on his glass, waiting for a reply, anything at all but no, you couldn't get ahead of yourself yet.

"that's sweet, scaramouche! a lot of people at school already admire you, i'm sure one of them are your ideal type!" you cheerily exclaim, trying not to make the air around you two awkward. scaramouche sighs, "(name)-" amber calls out, "(name)! your ride is here, ayato's going to be picking you and ayaka up."

she stands in front of the table with her arms crossed. "hey, you didn't do any funny business with them while we were gone, did you!?" amber grumbles, pointing at scaramouche. you laugh while collecting your things, "he didn't do anything at all, amber. thanks for tonight, scaramouche."

you greet him goodbye with a wave and head outside the restaurant. scaramouche purses his lips in frustration. he should have been upfront with you about his feelings but he supposes he's moving too fast. you'd never know his glass was filled with water anyways.

tags: @mariusvonhangme @scaramoo @mikismusings @rizakari @akagism2 @sakiimeo @ohmyfinggod @aethersluvrr @scarafrisbee @kaoyamamegami @liliumaraneae @dreamsofminnie @starfart19 @kunisbeloved @luhvashh @makiswrld @kyouzki @mimissubway @loucaroarz @theblueblub @angelunatic @shinjuuz @thenightsflower @coquettemaiden @thefandomcrow @cotton-eee @lovely028 @hrtswinter @duckyyyx @kissingkzuha @dazaisboner @adeptusx @tomotofu @yukiipc @loverhole @star583 @soobasaur @aeongiies @dr8amy @scaraapologist @raideneiari @rvoulte @aaeng121 @pyrrhicgaze @tjjjrsj @enviouspeanut @d4y-dr3am3r @aromaticism @undecidingfate @idontwantoeatspicy

taglist is now closed as i've reached the max tags in a single post. (50/50 tags occupied + officially removed users whose names aren't linked)

what happens when you, a talented and well-known drummer across the web, grow an intense crush for the student council president, who's also your number one fan? from annoying sisters to nosy bandmates, the next event that happens is always more chaotic than the last!

© kisscara

[humanityinahandbag]

What Rhymes with Chest Hair (pt 2)

Steve is around more. 

He was around before, swinging by to pick up Eddie for movies or drives to D&D or physical therapy. 

Only now Steve’s around the same way as Wayne’s wall calendar or Eddie’s miniatures. Steve’s around like the wallpaper, the couch, the magnets on the fridge, or the mugs across the kitchen’s back wall. 

He’s a fixture. A part of their little home.

Ever since the phone call, Steve’s made a point of drifting closer and closer to Eddie’s orbit, and bits of Steve begin to exist everywhere Wayne turns. Suddenly there’s an extra toothbrush in a cup by the bathroom sink, Nike’s by the door, cans of hairspray in the hall closet. 

Eddie’s sunflower petals were still pressed in the pages of books, a red sticky hand was at his bedside. 

And new items appear, too. New little tokens Eddie collects like a magpie. A mood ring from a gumball machine, a new set of paintbrushes set to dry on a newspaper, a collection of notes stuck to the fridge in Steve’s handwriting (all of them mundane and ordinary; reminders for dates and times and medication schedules, and Eddie keeps each and every one of them close). 

But now, when Steve hands them over, his eyes meet Wayne’s, and he smiles. A secret thing between them. 

I like your son, it says. I hope I can be enough for him.

Wayne nods his head back, always. You’re all he wants. He hopes Steve can hear that, somehow. 

To watch Eddie fall in love is a privilege Wayne nearly lost. It’s sweet. Simple. Full of kindness and care and pink faces and twirled hair. His boy is wonderful. And deserving.

There was just one issue. 

His wonderful, deserving kid wasn’t fucking getting it. 

-

On the first Saturday after The Phone Call, Eddie comes back home from Gareths with a pink tinge across his face that doesn’t slip past Wayne. While Eddie shucks off his sneakers, Wayne peeks out the window. In the driveway Wayne watches Steve back out the driveway. He catches Wayne’s eyes and throws him a wave and then heads off down the road.

“Steve drop you off?”

“Mmhm,” says Eddie, picking at the tight knot of laces.

“You could’ve called me,” says Wayne. “If you needed a ride back home.”

Eddie swallows and pauses untying his shoes. “I didn’t call him.”

“You didn’t-”

“He sat in on band practice.” Eddie says it quickly, ducking his head as if Wayne might not notice he’d dropped that little gem onto the floor. “He asked if he could last week.”

“Oh?”

Eddie pulled off one sneaker, and then the other. He rose up but still didn’t look at Wayne. 

“Did he like it?”

Wayne finally gets a peek at Eddie’s eyes under his bangs, though most of his face vanishes anyway when his kid pulls hair in front of his smile. “He told me I was really good.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Amazing,” Eddie says, in what Wayne would call a swoon. “That’s what he said. He wants a private concert, he said, sometime. Told me he wanted to learn a little if I would teach him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Eddie drops his hair and laughs. His eyes sparkle. “The guys couldn’t even believe it. That Ste-eee-eve Harrington was there to see me! But he was and he sat down and clapped after every song and-” He pauses. The sparkle in his eyes shuts off as he watches Wayne’s face soften into a smile. “Wait. Wait.”

“Eddie-”

“No. I know what you’re going to say. And it’s- he’s not like that, Wayne.”

“I’m just saying-”

“He’s not.” Eddie looks moments from stomping his foot. “He’s just. He’s so great and I can’t. I won’t. I just.” He sucks in a breath and lets out a groan, turning on his foot and stalking away to the backyard, slamming the sliding door. 

It slides open and he stalks back in. “And I can’t even smoke anymore!” he snaps 

“I quit, too.” Wayne pats his chest. “Lungs have never felt better.”

“At least you still can poison your lungs.” 

Wayne snorts and hopes next time might fare better.

-

(Next time does not fare better.)

-

Find the rest of the story here on AO3!

[smiley-star]

Little Leo

A Trip to witch town goes wrong. Luckily they have a cure, but it seems Leo's gonna be stuck as the littlest brother for a bit.

Lee: Leo💙

Lers: Mikey🧡, Donnie💜, Raph❤️

“This is so unfair!” Leo yelled, voice high pitched and childish.

“Don’t blame me!” Donnie exclaimed, carrying the much smaller Leo.

The two had been in witch town, looking for some kind of mystical medicine when a loud enraged screech rang out.

“YOU'RE THE ONE THAT DESTROYED OUR CITY!” The stranger had screeched, before a blast of bright green light was shot towards Donnie.

Leo had shoved him out of the way, taking the hit and immediately collapsing onto the ground.

Turns out, the witch had a fail-safe in case of an innocent being hit. Unfortunately, said fail-safe had lead to Leo becoming a toddler.

He was practically drowning in his hoodie, giving Donnie the dirtiest look his young face could muster.

“You're the reason they tried to attack in the first place!” Leo exclaimed, smacking Donnie with his hoodie sleeve.

“You jumped in front of me!”

“What if it was deadly!?” Leo exclaimed, “Of course I did!”

A strange look passed Donnie's face, but he didn't say anything. They got to the lair, where he threw open the door.

“Behold, family! A child!”

“OH MY GOSH!” Mikey squealed, immediately yanking Leo out of Donnie's arms and squishing him in a hug, “LEO! YOU'RE SO CUTE!”

“Mikey!” Leo complained, embarrassed as he shoved at his younger (now older?- ugh that was confusing!) brother.

“Awww Leo!” Mikey cooed, “You're just so cute! We gotta show Raph!”

“No!” Leo exclaimed, face flushed in embarrassment as Mikey rushed to Raph's room with him in his arms.

“Raphala!” Donnie called through the door, “We have a surprise!”

The door opened, and Raph just about melted at the sight of little Leo.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, taking the tot and hugging him close, “Leo! How did this happen- awwww! Raph remembers when you were this small!”

“Raph!” Leo exclaimed in embarrassment as Raph started kissing him on the cheek.

“You're so cute!”

“We were in witch town and one of them was gunning for me,” Donnie explained, “Leo jumped in the way.”

“Leo. . .”

“What!? It would've hit Donnie instead!” Leo protested in his squeaky voice, “It was me though, so its fine!”

“What!? That is not fine!” Mikey exclaimed as Donnie flipped down his goggles to scan Leo.

“Well, the good news is that it should wear off in about an hour,” Donnie said, earning sighs of relief.

“And the bad news?” Leo questioned as Donnie took him from Raph's arms.

“You're going to promise to stop putting yourself in harm's way.”

“What-? Donnie, if it's me or you, I'm choosing me!” Leo exclaimed, glaring.

“Then I chose this,” Donnie said, before lightly wiggling his fingers on Leo's plastron.

“EEE-!” Leo squealed, giggling and kicking his little legs, “Dohhohohonie! NohohoohohHOHOHo!”

“Yes!” Donnie exclaimed, “We'll only stop when you agree to quit sacrificing yourself!”

“EEHAHA!” Leo squealed, kicking his little legs against Donnie's chest, “StaHAHAaHap!”

“Awww! Your laugh is so cute!” Mikey cooed, skittering his fingers in the crooks of Leo's neck.

“MIHIhiHIkey!” Leo squealed, scrunching his shoulders up and throwing his head back in laughter, “NAHA!”

“D’awwww,” Raph cooed, lightly pinching at Leo's knees and making the slider shriek.

“RAHAPHIE!” Leo squealed, shoving at Raph's hands as he squirmed and laughed, “DAHAHAN'T!”

“This is so cute!” Mikey giggled, “I'm gonna die of cuteness!”

“NAHA IT'S NAHAT!” Leo squealed, kicking and squirming as they tickled him, “STAHAHAP!”

“Do you promise to quit jumping in danger?” Donnie asked, wiggling his fingers above Leo's tummy threateningly.

“Dohohn’t yohohohou dahahare!” Leo giggled, squirming and kicking to try and escape, “Guhuhys! Leheheme goho!”

“Not ‘till ya promise, Lee,” Raph cooed, wiggling his fingers next to Leo's thigh while Mikey pried one of his arms up.

“GUHUYS-!” Leo's complaints were cut off by a loud shriek of laughter as the three started tickling him again.

“NAHAHA- YOHOHOU'RE SOHOH MEHEHEAN! PLEHE- EHHAHAHA!” Leo squealed, his hands flapping in happy stimming as he cackled and squirmed.

“Awww Leo!” Mikey cooed, blowing a raspberry on the side of Leo's neck and making him squeal and scrunch his shoulders up.

“DAHAHAN'T!” Leo screamed, laughing and blushing.

“This is so cute,” Raph gushed, lightly pinching at Leo's thighs and making him squeak, kicking his legs at him.

“I know right!” Mikey giggled, skittering his fingers under Leo's arm, “Dee! Isn't this adorable!”

“As frustrating as he's being, I concur, it is rather cute,” Donnie smirked, skittering his fingers over Leo's belly, “Now then Leo, are you going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?”

“I'm gohohohoHOHOna get you bAHAHahack so bad-!” Leo threatened, giggling hysterically.

“Alright then,” Donnie grinned evilly, lifting Leo's hoodie above his tummy.

“WAIT-! WAIT NO!” Leo screamed, squirming even more and kicking and smacking at them, “DEE!”

Donnie leaned down, blowing a raspberry on Leo's tummy, making the slider shriek and cackle like mad.

Raph grinned, blowing raspberries on Leo's knees while Mikey nibbled at his ribs.

“YOHA- HAHAHA EEHHAHA SNRT-!” Leo squealed, thrashing and kicking as he cackled, “I DAHAHAN'T! PLEHE- SNRK! HAHA!”

OHOHOKAY! I WOHOHON’T DOHOHO IT AGAHAHAIN!” Leo screamed, squirming violently and cackling hysterically.

“Alright guys,” Mikey said, getting the other two to back off, “We better stop before we kill him!”

“I hahahate you!” Leo giggled, still squirming slightly from the phantom tickles. He yanked his arms into his hoodie sleeves and tugged the hood over his head, effectively disappearing.

“Oh c'mon, ‘Nardo,” Donnie teased, “You won't be wittle forever!”

“Leave me alone!” Leo said dramatically, “You guys are the worst!”

“Aww, cheer up Leo,” Raph said, lightly squeezing Leo's side.

“EEP-! Ohohokay! Ohohokay!” Leo giggled frantically, yanking the hood off his head, “I'm nahat mahahad!”

“Man, you're so cute like this!” Raph exclaimed, holding Leo against his cheek, “Raph just wants to eat you up!”

“Don't you- RAHAHAPH!” Leo squealed, trying to squirm his way out of Raph's hold when he started nibbling at his tummy, “RAHAHAPH! TOHOHO- EEE! SNRT- PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!”

“Your wittle tummy is so yummy to Raph!” Raph teased, making Leo blush and squirm more.

“RAHAHAHAPHIE! DAHAHAN'T!” Leo squealed, throwing his head back in laughter as Raph lightly nibbled his tummy.

“You're recording this, right?” Mikey asked, watching with a wide grin.

“Please, I record everything,” Donnie said with a smirk, “This entire thing has been.”

“He's not freaking out as bad as usual,” Mikey mused, giggling a bit, “I guess he got more ticklish as we got older!”

“Huh,” Donnie blinked, “I suppose I can test that. For the data collection of course."

Mikey hurried over, helping Raph tickle the tot, who laughed louder and fought against the two.

Donnie shook his head fondly, this idiot was way too protective of them. But at least they could get him to smile a bit.

“DEHEHEE! HEHELP MEHEHE!” Leo cried, trying to escape Raph tickling his tummy and Mikey tickling his ribs.

“But of course!”

“NAHAH– NAHAT THE KNEHEHES! DOHONIE!”

Found this one in my drafts and was like Why not post it? :3

✨Remember to drink water✨