#now i have practice eee

[pixiefeatherkw3]

hi! when you get this, you have to answer with 5 things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)! (You’re so talented, dude!)

eee

eee

eeeeem (WHATDOYOUMEANSTOP)

1- I can talk about any subject 2- My fashion sense too sharp 3- Character, music and media taste is RIGHT 4- I always try my best in listening to people 5- I'm practical, self-suficient and work well under preassure

NOW YOU GUYS, TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME! @buubonita @coldranger @writingdevil @xazafranx @greatdenimbeast @voiceofthelionhearted @eggseabutters @letoilepourpre @toffeebrews

[c4tluver02]

Can I request a fluffy Steve Harrington x fem! reader long oneshot where reader comes home from work and walks in to a cute sight of Steve playing with their daughter?

work day

wc: 1.5k

warnings: mention of pregnancy, fear of reaction, nothing crazy tons of fluff!!

a/n: eee my first request!! thank you so much for requesting it i hope you like it! feel free to send more requests this was so fun!! :)

It was 4:45 and your work day was almost over. A long day of managing clients and having meetings did make it go by fairly quickly. You love your job and the new promotion definitely made your life easier. Going back to work after having your daughter was definitely a difficult task but nothing can beat the rewarding feeling of getting a job done. You loved to work and the people around you made it all the better. You couldn’t have done it without the help of Steve. You know staying at home with a kid is a whole job in itself, the fact that he takes that on so you can do something that makes you happy makes you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. 

Your office is full proof of that as well. Pictures of your family scattered along the walls. One of which you and Steve are holding a pregnancy test. You remember that day so vividly it was the day you told him you were pregnant. 

-

Steve was downstairs washing the dishes, you two had just finished up dinner. You hadn’t eaten much and Steve was gearing up to ask you about it but before he could do that you ran to the bathroom. He felt bad, thinking maybe something you had eaten prior had gotten you sick. What Steve didn’t know was the smell of the meat made you sick and your period is late. 

You were standing against the counter as you waited for the test to be done. Steve had always had a soft spot for kids; this was something you knew. He would often tell you about his dreams of this big family and 6 Harringtons running around. You were able to drop the number down to 4 not exactly wanting to push out 6 kids, but it was never something you two thought would be so close. Not married, just moved into a home, you were nervous to say the least. Did Steve even want kids right now? What if he didn't feel ready? So many thoughts were racing through your head at the idea of such a big change. But more than anything you were excited, Steve would be the most amazing dad and there were 6 kids already that he practically raised to prove it. Too stuck in your thoughts you heard Steve yelling for you. Probably done with dishes ready to ask if you were okay, always so worried. You grabbed the test and immediately looked at it. It was positive. You were pregnant and now you have to tell Steve.  

As you hold the test in your hand, shaking, you hear a knock on the door. “Baby? You okay? I am sorry you aren’t feeling well, can I come in?” 

You should have known he would come to check on you when you didn't run down to him the first time he called for you. You put the test behind your back as you open the door. Steve’s face is painted with concern and you're pretty sure you have a similar look on yours as well.  

“What's wrong honey? What do you have?” Steve can see you have your arm tucked behind your back. 

In the moment you start to freeze, unsure if this is how you want to tell him or unsure of how he'll react. But he’s right in front of you and you aren't hiding it incredibly well. You bring your arm forward and the test is upside down. Steve looks at it and his worried brows rise to a new shocked look. 

Steve grabs it from your hand. “Have you looked at it yet?” He can’t believe he was downstairs washing dishes and now he has a pregnancy test in his hand. 

You nod your head as Steve turns it over, tears begging to fog up your vision. His jaw drops as he looks at you. Tears flooding your eyes threatening to drop. “Baby… Oh my god.” He’s speechless and all he wants to do is hug you. 

It surprises you when he does. He is shaking just like you are, but you're still unsure. “Steve?” Your lip is trembling and you look so small. Like what he says next will determine this whole moment. 

“Oh my gosh we're having a baby honey.” He says with a smile so wide it hurts his cheeks. He grabs your face and gives you a deep kiss. 

“You're not mad?” You look into his big eyes, they are glassy and the smile on his face is still huge. 

“Mad? Why would I be mad? I love you and we're having a baby!” Steve goes back into a big bear hug. 

You let out a breath of air you didn’t even know you were holding. Your shoulders drop and you latch onto Serve. Your body melts into him and he continues to hold you as you sniffle. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, your reaction not being as cheerful as he is.

“I was just scared you would be upset. And- well.. It’s just such a big change.” He finally lets you go to see your face. 

“I know honey, but we got this! You're gonna be a great mom, I just know it. You're so good with the kids and you always say the right thing.” He gives your forehead a quick peck and presses his forehead against your own. 

“You're gonna be a great dad Steveie.” It’s a simple sentence but it hits Steve a little harder than he thought it would. His own father being so absent, he was scared to be anything like him. But he knows with you there's no way that could happen. 

“Oh my god we're having a baby.” He says it again in disbelief. Like he can't begin to imagine how lucky he is to start a family with you.

“We’re having a baby!” Your smile now matches his as you both look back at the test.

-

Leaving work wasn’t even the best part of your day. It was going home to see your Steve and your beautiful daughter. The drive home often felt long, the anticipation of being back with your family overruling everything.  

Once you park the car you get to the front door and unlock it. Taking off your heels immediately and letting out a sigh of satisfaction. The house is clean and it smells like Steve’s body wash meaning he must have just taken a shower. You carefully walk upstairs, the closer you get the better you hear the TV playing a show for kids. When Steve is finally in your sight you see his hair is damp and he’s in boxers and a t-shirt. Your daughter is in a bouncer on the ground and making cooing sounds. You lean by the doorway as you watch him talk to her. 

“Okay baby does daddy wear shorts or sweatpants? Hmm? Mommy likes sweats on me but I think I might do shorts.” He says as he digs through the drawer, he’s really just thinking out loud but her loud yell is enough of an answer for him. 

“You're right I should just wear sweats. Anything to make mom happy, right?” He looks over to her but she's no longer looking at him. He turns his head to look out the doorway and sees you. His eyes light up just at the sight of you. You walk into the room as he picks your daughter up ready to greet you. 

“Look baby mama's home!” Steve is bouncing her in his arms and she has a big smile on her face. Her little hands come together as if to clap out of excitement. 

Your smile is just as big when you pick her up from Steve's arms. He gives you a hug, wrapping his arms around both of you giving your temple a kiss. This is your favorite moment. 

“Thank you for cleaning the house, love.” You say leaning into his chest. Taking in the moment.

“Of course, she was really easy today, no fussing huh bug? It gave me time to clean.” He looks down at her as she looks up at him. 

Her eyes are just like his, it’s like looking at a mini him. You set her back down as you yourself begin to change. “What were you thinking for dinner?” Steve asks, sitting on the floor playing with her. 

“I could do some pizza. I'm not gonna lie, I don't feel like cooking.” Steve lets out a small laugh as you come out of your walk-in closet donning a big shirt that's one of Steves. It hits mid thigh and Steve can feel his mouth water at the sight. 

“I don’t really feel like cooking either. Especially not after cleaning up the kitchen she destroyed.” He says the last part while smiling and in a high pitched voice. A complete contrast to the sentence itself. 

“What do you think bug? Pizza sound good?” You ask your daughter as she babbles something. You pick her up as you and Steve go downstairs ready to call for the food. You really were living the dream.

[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

[noctunis]

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?”

[user500269]

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.

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

A oneshot of Little Shauna at an away game. But Jackie isn’t there because she went straight to Jeff after the game. And the team having to take care of a fussy and jealous toddler Shauna?- @rios-bug

Little!Shauna - Fussy

Eee thanks for this req it was so fun !!

Cw: time out, swearing

Word count: 1148

————————

Shauna crossed her arms, a pout playing at her lips. “Come on, Shauna, you need to shower,” Tai soothed gently - trying to coax the girl into washing off the sweat and dirt of their soccer match.

“No-o,” Shauna whined, stomping her foot and furrowing her brows. Tears of frustration were blooming in her eyes. Jackie always let her have a bath after her games, she’d set up all her bath toys and let her use the nicest bubble bath liquid. But Jackie wasn’t here right now. She’d fucked off with her stupid boyfriend the second the game had finished and it wasn’t fair. Jackie was her Mama, she should’ve been here with her. Not Tai and the others who didn’t know she preferred baths to showers.

Van sighed, stepping in because she could sense Tai was growing frustrated with the stubborn toddler. “Why don’t you pick out some of my dinosaurs to take in with you, hm? I bet you couldn’t carry them all into the shower by yourself could you?” Shauna’s frown wavered a little bit at this, rubbing the tears away from her eyes.

“I can carry them all!” She exclaimed, offended that Van would suggest otherwise.

“Go on then,” Van pushed a little pile of plastic dinosaurs across the hotel bed and towards Shauna. Little Van was usually very protective of her dinosaurs and would not let Shauna play with them without her there, but Big Van was willing to relent in order to calm the fussy kid. Tai mouthed a silent thank you, guiding Shauna into the bathroom - it was definitely not childproofed and she set a towel down on the bottom of the shower so Shauna wouldn’t slip.

Once the girl was thoroughly cleaned and Tai had practically wrestled her into her pajamas, she was sat down with Lottie, Misty and Mari who were contently playing on the floor between the beds. Mari and Misty were constructing a pretty intricate tower out of blocks, whilst Lottie was trying to chew on the little wooden shapes. “That’s gross,” Shauna criticised, simply for the sake of criticising. Lottie ignored her though, happily mouthing the little red block. Shauna huffed, Lottie was not allowed to put those in her mouth it was gross and annoying. She shoved Lottie’s arm roughly, sending the block toppling from the young girl’s hand and onto the floor. When Lottie inevitably burst into tears, her little face turning red and blotchy in seconds as she wailed, Nat, Tai and Van all turned in their direction. Natalie was quick to Lottie’s side, scooping the baby into her arms and cooing softly.

Knowing Lottie was too young for words, Nat turned to the other young girls. “What happened?” She asked, gently bouncing Lottie who had quickly stopped crying the second she was being held.

Mari didn’t hesitate to snitch, pointing to Shauna, “She shoved Lottie.” There was a little smile on Mari’s face because Shauna got out of trouble for being mean to the other girls all the time when Jackie was there, but Jackie wasn’t here now.

Nat frowned, turning to Shauna. “Shauna, we don’t push,” She sighed - slightly frustrated that Shauna would think it was ok to push the younger girl. Shauna frowned, crossing her arms and kicking her legs out in front of her.

“Fucking snitch,” She mumbled, glaring daggers at Mari.

“Hey, language, Shauna,” Nat warned sternly, “I want you to take five minutes in the corner to calm down, ok?”

“No.” Shauna huffed, turning so her back was facing Nat.

Noticing Nat’s struggle, Tai cut in. “Shauna, corner now please,” She instructed. Shauna got up, stomping her way over to the corner of the room and not missing the opportunity to kick over Mari and Misty’s tower on her way over, sending both of the other girls into outraged whines. She sulked in the corner, arms crossed and face scrunched up because she was not going to cry.

The resolve lasted barely a minute before she heard Van helping the girls pick out a story to read and immediately the jealousy sent her into a fit of sobs. Tai came over, kneeling beside Shauna and placing a gentle hand on her back. “Hey kiddo,” She cooed gently, rubbing soft circles on her back. Shauna turned around to see Tai, her face teary and her lip quivering. “What’s the matter?” Shauna shrugged, her shoulders tensing up defensively by her ears.

“Want Mama,” she whimpered, her voice breaking sadly. Tai sighed, her heart breaking slightly for the younger girl. Tai gently pulled Shauna into her arms, by passing Nat’s timeout ruling.

“I know, I know baby,” Tai soothed. Shauna buried her face in Tai’s neck, her body shaking with sobs. “I need you to take some big breaths for me, ok?” She gently guided Shauna’s face out from hiding and wiped her tears away. Tai demonstrated taking big, overdramatic breaths and blowing them out in Shauna’s face, which eventually got the girl shakily giggling. Tai smiled, gently wiping away the last of Shauna’s tears. “Are you gonna do three big breaths for me, hm?” Tai asked. Shauna nodded eagerly, imitating Tai’s breaths and blowing them out through giggles. “Good job,” Tai praised gently. “I think if you said sorry to the others you could probably go join in story time.” Nervously Shauna glanced over to the others, they were all squished into one of the little single beds, eagerly crowding around to hear Van read them the very hungry caterpillar. Shauna loved story time, so taking the option to get out of time out, she sheepishly crossed the room to the others. Nervously, she slipped her thumb into her mouth as a shield between her and the other girls. “I”m sorry,” She whispered, looking at the floor. Lottie, who was curled up in Van’s arms, reached out to hold Shauna’s hand in an act of silent forgiveness. Shauna couldn’t help but smile at the little gesture. Still she wasn’t too eager to be crammed on a bed with Mari and Misty, she opted to sit on the bed next to them, sulking slightly because she still really missed her Mama.

Shauna felt the bed sink beside her and looked over to see Nat sitting down next to her. Instinctively, and ignoring that Nat had sent her to timeout earlier, she squirmed herself into Nat’s arms. Nat held Shauna gently, stroking her hair as Van read. “I’m sorry Jackie isn’t here,” She whispered. Shauna couldn’t help but feel her eyes brim with tears at the mention of her Mama but it was still nice to have someone else validate that her Mama should’ve been there with her now.

Shauna shrugged, “S’ fine.” Nat frowned, squeezing Shauna gently. “S’ not so bad getting to be with all my aunties,”

Nat chuckled, ruffling Shauna’s hair. “Yeah, we aren’t so bad, are we?”

[runningfrom2am]

michigan cherry // part ten

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: 2.6k

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

a/n: the last part :') (epilogue is still coming tho!) thank you guys so much for sticking with me for anotherrrr full series and this one has taken me SO annoyingly long but i'm glad its actually finished! (even if i'll miss them. as always.)

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

and thank you so much to @milliesfishes for giving this a quick read for me and holding my hand through reassuring me it wasn't terrible <3

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

Getting bloody arrested.

At first, it had just pissed you off. You huffed and puffed about it as you were dragged down to the jailhouse, hands cuffed in front of you. They didn't know what to do with you- you knew because you'd heard as much.

So, you ended up in a shed off to the side of the actual jailhouse, hollowed out hastily before you were thrown inside, hands left cuffed together. You wanted to protest, but you couldn't. You were guilty and you knew it. Kidnapping. Or at least, attempted kidnapping. Needless to say, you were not in a good place when that decision was made.

You had no one, now. Nothing. All you'd wanted then was your little brother. To just grab him, selfishly- steal him from that lovely old couple and start your run again. To start over, to go back to busking in Detroit until you had enough to get the girls back. You want to think that's all you want now.

But that isn't quite true.

You wanted Billy. Your Billy, who held you at night when you slept under the stars more often than not. Who tucked your hair behind your ears for you when your hands were busy practicing, and clapped and whistled after every song whether you were playing for a crowd or just for him and him alone in a dim firelight. You wanted the freedom from fear that came with his mere presence.

Billy, whom you'd felt safe enough with to lay your heart out to.

"My mother made it for me." You whispered, the safe cloak of night shielding you from the vulnerability of your confession. Billy shifted next to you, turning to face you more fully on the small bed you were sharing, a spare room in the living quarters above a saloon that had long since closed for the night. You'd made a decent profit, nearly two dollars in tips left in the case of your guitar as you played.

You weren't sure why you wanted to tell him. Then, of all moments, but maybe you were riding a high from a good day- the simplest of pleasures you were granted in small doses that seemed to grow the more time you spent with Billy at your side.

"The blanket?" He asked, voice lower in his effort to be quiet.

"Yeah."

The silence crept in, wind rustling the curtains over the window where it was cracked open.

"It's nice."

"It's seen better days." Your faint laugh was breathy over the words, knowing that's what he really wanted to say but wouldn't dare. That, or you wanted to downplay it before you dumped anything he didn't need to hear about onto him. You didn't want him to think that's what you were doing, at least, and you didn't even want to do it, but your heart was telling you you should. Any piece of your soul you spared would be safe while held in Billy's hands.

"That's the best thing about it, though." He tells you. "That it's seen all the better days."

You felt yourself smiling, turning over to match his posture by facing him and you could feel his breath on your skin even without clearly being able to see him. The faded glow from the moon casted in from behind him, obscuring his face but all you needed was to know he was really there.

"You should write music."  You mused in hushed tones, and he matched your laugh with one of his own.

He didn't take the bait, though, just barely shaking his head against the single pillow left from the bed that you insisted he take while you rolled up your baby blanket to use under your own head. "It's a nice blanket, I mean it. "Made with love", and all that."

"I don't actually know that it was, but I like to believe that." You shrugged one shoulder up against your ear.

"Of course it was, darlin'. Ma's make everything with love, I don't think they could leave it out if they tried."

"No, I mean... I don't know that she made it. That's just what I was told, but it was probably only the nun's best guess." You explained. "It was all I had with me when I was dropped off, and I was still a newborn, from what they told me, so it wasn't like I had much to say about the matter."

"Ah..." Billy hummed, and there's silence for another few moments. "Does it really matter?"

The question rattled you a little bit, and you blinked a few times in the dark. "I... I guess so? It's a weird thing to think about, sometimes. To attach so much to something I've just assumed to know everything about."

"Yeah, but... someone made it for you." He clarified. "Maybe your ma, maybe a grandmother, an aunt, a friend, or... hell, maybe even your pa. We don't know exactly, of course, but you were loved by someone either way."

You couldn't say anything to that, your heart beating in your chest in a way that felt a little extra real in that moment. You felt warmer in the quiet room, chilled by the night sky.

"I just mean... does it really matter what you think you know, if the feeling behind it was true all the same?"

"I'm..." Not sure? You'd certainly never considered it that way before- mind clouded by the ultimatum of either your mother loved you and cried while dropping you off wrapped in that handmade blanket, or, the nuns lied and no one ever loved you enough to make you a blanket. "I guess... Yeah, that's possible. But we'll never know, really."

You weren't sure when Billy got so close or if he always had been- this bed was cramped, after all- but the air from his lungs felt more intense on your face after that.

"I know it. You're an easy girl to love."

You'd assumed at the time, even as his nose brushed against yours under the moonlight before saying goodnight, that he had just meant by the family you'd found in Max and those kids. By the people who came to your shows and watched you perform, maybe, and in hindsight that felt foolish.

Pacing the length of the tiny shed, twisting your wrists irritably against the cold and restricting metal, all you can think about is how you wish that you kissed him then. Way back then, so you would have had him sooner. Longer. More of your Billy before you found out he wasn't at all who you thought, and that he never truly was.

You can't exactly sleep in these conditions, or sit, for that matter- considering you probably wouldn't be able to get up again with your wrists bound like this. That wouldn't last as long as it truly felt though, the feeling of emptiness and the wholehearted weight that you were truly, deeply alone.

You freeze mid-step, wrists aching from too much pacing and not enough blood. The night presses in, thick and heavy with silence- until a soft voice splits it. "You in there?"

Your breath catches. You'd know that voice in your sleep. You have, more than once. Whispered right into your hair. You don't answer.

"It's me," Billy says.

Like that would make it better.

The lock clicks after some quiet scraping- slow, deliberate. You think maybe you should back away. Hide. Scream. But your feet won't move, even if there was somewhere to go. Even if deep down, you knew it did make it better that it was him.

The door swings open and there he is. Hat pulled low, face shadowed and drawn tight with worry. Like he hasn't slept. Like he's been hurting too. And damn it if that doesn't make you angrier. You glare at him, eyes burning. "Come and pretend to help?"

He flinches. Like you hit him. "I came to get you out. Harvey told me what happened."

You scoff, bitter. "Why? Gonna drag me off to wherever you stashed the rest of your lies?"

He steps inside, slow and careful, as if you're something wild and wounded. Which maybe you are. "I didn't want you to find out like that," he says. "About who I was."

"You mean who you are. Don't pretend it's past tense."

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. Instead, he pulls something from his coat; a folded scrap of paper. It's a sheet from your journal, a page you had ripped out by your own hand when you hated the direction your mind had taken the lyrics. A song you knew was about losing your family. Crumpled, and torn through the middle like it pissed him off.

"They're not after you for what really happened. You know that, right?" he says, voice rough. "You tried to get your brother back. That ain't a crime. Not in my book."

You turn your back to him before he can see the tears rising.

"It's more than that," you whisper, entirely unwilling to discuss your motives with him right now. "I trusted you. I thought you were... good."

Silence.

Then, soft, "I am good. O-or I try to be, doll, I just... 'm not clean."

You feel him come closer, feel the heat of him behind you before he kneels, slipping your cuffs into his hands. You don't stop him when he starts working at the chain with a stolen key and shaking fingers.

"I never lied about how I felt," he says. "Not once. Not even when it would've been easier to walk away."

The cuffs fall open and you stare down at your wrists. Red and raw. Free. "You shouldn't have come," you whisper as you turn around. "You should've let me rot."

He stands, and for a second, he looks like he might agree. "There ain't a world where I let you go. Not again."

And before you can stop yourself, you reach for him.

And he catches you like he always did.

"HEY! WHO'S BACK THERE?" The shout cuts through the dark like a whip crack before you even break in his arms again.

Then everything happens at once. Billy grabs your hand and runs- no warning, no time. Just the sound of boots on dirt and the slam of your heart against your ribs as he pulls you into the open.

You barely register the cold until you're out in it, until the night swallows you whole. The jail yard explodes with voices, some confused, some angry, and behind you, a lantern swings wildly, casting long shadows across the ground.

Dolly waits by the edge of the fence, her flanks shivering, eyes bright as fire. The reins dangle loose like she's been standing there forever, just waiting for you to climb back into the life you lost then gained then lost again.

Billy all but throws you on her.

You hit the saddle rough, breath knocked from your chest, and he's up behind you an instant later, one hand grabbing the reins, the other wrapping around your middle with a force that steadies and bruises all at once.

She takes off before either of you tells her to.

You tear across the ground, the jailhouse vanishing behind you. Gunshots follow, first one, then another, each snapping through the dark like a curse. Wood splinters near your shoulder as you round the fence and you duck low, almost burying yourself in the horse's mane.

She runs like hell is on her heels, and maybe it is. Behind you, hooves hit hard-packed earth. More shouting, and steel flashing in the moonlight. Billy steers her sharp through the main road, past shuttered windows and spilled barrels. A bullet hits the watering trough and sends a spray of wood and water into the air. Another clips the corner of the mill.

"We need to lose them," he grits out. "Hold on."

You don't answer. Your throat is raw with wind and grit, your eyes sting, and still Dolly runs.

Past the edge of town, and into the hills. The night opens around you, wide and sharp and full of teeth. Rocks gleam silver in the dark, treacherous and waiting. A twisted fence looms up in front of you and Dolly leaps it like it's nothing, barely a breath between landing and galloping on.

The lantern lights behind you flicker. Dip. One disappears, two remain.

Still chasing.

Still gaining.

You think, wildly, of all the things you didn't get to say. To Billy. To your brother or sisters. To anyone at all.

But now isn't the time.

Billy jerks the reins left and Dolly veers hard, nearly losing her footing. You crash through brittle brush, through dry creekbeds and the sharp bones of the land. You can taste blood in your mouth—you're biting your tongue just to stay focused.

The last two riders stay with you through the hills. Their voices carry low and clear, like death calling your names.

But they don't know this land like Billy does. Your guide and protector, who loved you enough to only take payment in music both polished and unfinished.

He pushes Dolly harder. Down through a dry trail and then up again, dust rising like ghosts behind you. "That ridge," he says in your ear. "We lose them at the ridge."

You nod even though he can't see it. You trust him more than you want to admit right now.

The climb is brutal. The rocks slick with sand, the slope steep. You think Dolly can't make it, no horse should but she does, hooves nearly striking sparks, muscles straining like a creature summoned from myth.

You crest the top just as one final shot rings out and strikes stone. Shards fly. You duck instinctively again.

Then silence.

They must have fallen back.

Dolly slows, breath sawing in and out. Billy holds the reins steady, eyes scanning the dark behind you.

Still nothing.

The wind picks up, and you don't say anything. Your throat's too full. Of dust. Of relief. Of sorrow.

For a long moment, neither of you speak.

The stars burn above you. Far below, the last of the town's lights blink and you know they do even if they're out of sight.

And still your pulse pounds in your throat like you never left that jailhouse at all.

You press a hand to Dolly's side. She's trembling, soaked with sweat. Brave, loyal girl. Stolen from a life she had but giving her all to save yours tonight.

Billy slides down first, then offers to help you down gently with an extended hand. You take it, your fingers closing around his without thinking, like they remember a time before everything crumbled.

He looks up at you with those blue eyes, dark in the dim light and full of all the things he never said.

"I wasn't gonna let them take you," he says. "No matter what you think of me. I'd have burned that town down if I had to."

Your throat tightens. You slide down from Dolly's back, landing just inches from him.

"You lied," you say.

He nods. "I did."

"You broke my heart."

He closes his eyes. "I know."

The stars are bright above you like that night you'd joked about him kidnapping you, when instead he'd taken you to the safest place you'd ever known. Somewhere, an owl calls. The wind shifts again.

"But you came back," you whisper.

Billy opens his eyes. And in them, you see every mile he's ridden for you. Every choice he wishes he'd made sooner. Every word he never said when he should have.

"Always," he says.

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!!

[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!!!

[balo-badartist]

Balo your oot zelink is so precious 😭 do you have a page where I can buy your prints? I want to buy your latest zelink art or... will there be a color version?

Eee ty! And I do have an Inprnt shop up!! 🥹🥰💞 I have so many Zelink ideas that I want to get through in drawings first (my painting style takes a very long time otherwise) so I’m not sure which ones will get the full color upgrade. For now, it’s just a mode for practicing my figure drawing skills and expressions! (And for getting those Zelink brainworms out of me before I implode) 🥰🫶🏼

@ https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/balo_badartist/

[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 !!

[yoiisa]

who are they in a band?

all characters aged up (20+)! Tags: TW for fan and celeb dynamics. there are not overt mentions of abuse of positions but it does exist so be wary, slightly suggestive language

a/n: i figured as a concert themed tumblr, this would be a fun thing to try out!! also, i've been having really bad brainrot over suo being a drummer, and then it just kinda spiraled into me picturing all my other favs in bands eee!! enjoy!

also i know that in mha it's already established what characters play what instrument, but like . . . i will make changes if i want to lol it's my fic!

THE DRUMMER

The spotlight is never on him, but he's completely fine with that. In the background of the stage, he's completely enthralled in hammering out the beat guiding the rest of his members. The crowd tonight is particularly loud though. He can hear their cheers and screams through his ear piece still. He looks up from his set and scans the first fews rows that he can see from behind everyone else. People are excited by the guitarist and singer, their eyes honed in on the pair, but one person's gaze falls away from them and onto him. Your eyes widen slightly as the outskirts of the spotlight catches the contours of his body. His biceps flex as he raises his arms to strike the snare, and as he does you blink in surprise, as if the sound manage to surpass the volume of everything else in the room. Even in the dim light of the arena, he can see heat rising in your cheeks, and it makes his heart beat faster. His foot pounds harder on the bass drum's pedal and smile makes it way on his lips. He needs to take the next break to tell security to bring you backstage. After all, he's never in the spotlight, but the attention he's getting from you right now is more than enough.

NAGI, BAJI, BAKUGOU, kunigami, KAZUTORA, RINDOU, KIRISHIMA, REINER, nicolo, zeke, IIDA, GETO, ERWIN, MITSUYA, aizawa, shinso, SUO, TSUGUERA, sakura, NOYA, asahi, tanaka, KITA, + (your favs!!)

THE BASSIST

His fingers pluck at the thick strings of his bass, the deep sounds resonating through the speakers. He hunches over a little, focusing on the way his hands play with the strings. Bass strings are heavy and the callouses forming on his hands are an indicative of that. He looks up, and smiles softly as he watches his bandmates engrossed in their respective roles. The singer pushes hair from his face, and the guitarist . . . is flirting with girls in the front row, sending them winks and air kisses as he shreds. He shakes his head. This is why he doesn't play guitar. His charisma is more quiet than whatever his friend is doing, but he doesn't go unnoticed. When he looks out at the sea of people jumping to the songs, he locks eyes with you. Unlike the other girls in the front row, who are paying obscene amounts of attention to the guitarist and singer, your eyes are focused on him with intense awe. They twinkle a little bit, and his hand slips. A deep chord sounds through the room and the singer casts a look of concern out of the corner of his eye. He shakes his head and the singer goes back to his serenading. When he looks back down at you, he smiles. You beam back at him and instantly he knows he's going to have to ask security later to bring you backstage. (And remember, bass strings are heavy, so his fingers are strooonnggg~)

CHIGIRI, hiori, YUTA, CHOSO, INUMAKI, porco, chifuyu, inui, tamaki, nanase, takemichi, RIN, HANGE, NAOTO, MIDORIYA, TODOROKI, NANAMI, LEVI, draken, KIRYU, sugishita, NIREI, DAICHI, yamaguchi, hinata, KENMA, AKAASHI, suna, OSAMU + (your favs!!)

THE GUITARIST

Look at that bastard, practically making out with the microphone. Although he's all smiles, the jealousy burns bright in his heart, brighter than the spotlights shining in his eyes right now. Enough people are watching him tonight for him to be satisfied, but more are watching the singer. He should be there. But he's not so he'll just have to shove his envy down deeper and turn his attention to his little group. Tonight is a nice batch, better than last stop's for sure. They huddle around the stage cheering him on, and clapping. It's a group of around five or six girls, but one stands out in particular. You're hair is all mussed from the dancing and sweat of being trapped in between others. Nevertheless, you look totally in your element right now. Your phone isn't covering your face, so you can still enjoy the concert while also capturing it. Your singing along to every word and your jumps are on perfect beat with the drummer. Your eyes are glowing the lights from the stage catch you every now and again, and your smile couldn't be wider. He wonders idly if your cheeks hurt. His smirk deepens, and he plays with more fervor. Once the song ends, the security guard spares a quick glance backwards. He nods towards you and the guard's eyes widen a fraction as he catches the guitarist's drift. You're gonna be fun.

KENNY ACKERMAN, sukuna, CONNY, izana, kokonoi, KAMINARI, SHIGARAKI, REO, KAISER, jean, ran, toji, DABI, hiragi, KAJI, TOGAME, ENDO, TSUKISHIMA, lev, iwaizumi, ushijima, TENDO, SAKUSA + (your favs!!)

THE SINGER

As the song comes to a close, he tosses his head back. Sweat runs down his face and a huge smile pulls at his lips. The cheers only feed into his exhilaration and he leans up against the microphone stand. When he looks out at the crowd, the faces all blur into one large haze. This is it, this is what he lives for after all. This sound of roaring voices, the chants of his name. His name. They're here for him. It's electric, the knowledge. He shakes his head and leans into the microphone, saying "Stop, you're too much," but it only spurns the cheers to get louder. He hears his guitarist scoff from behind him, but he can't bring himself to care. He bends down to the base of his microphone stand and grabs his water bottle. He uncaps his, and as he raises it to his lips, his eyes catch onto your face. Your cheers become louder as you wave excitedly at him. That expression, it's of pure unfiltered joy. It's . . . adorable. As he drinks his water, he subtly tilts his head towards the wings of the stage. Your cheers falter slightly and your eyes widen in surprise. A flush appears on your face and he smiles as he wipes his mouth. He winks at you before he rises to start the next song, knowing that you've fully gotten his memo. After all, you're here for him.

SHINICHIRO, BACHIRA, armin, ISAGI, baro, EREN, SAE, AIKU, shido, GOJO, TODO, SUGAWARA, kageyama, KUROO, OIKAWA, BOKUTO, ATSUMU, + (your favs!!)

a/n: i highkey forgot how many characters there were in haikyuu but we managed ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

[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.

[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

[senka-mesecine]

eee sorry im back for seconds i love your blog 🏃‍♀️ im not sure if you’ve already done something like this, so feel free to ignore! but how would the platoon boys react with a reader who cooks and cleans a LOT for everyone at camp? :) somehow whipping up realll good food for the boys when they are playing poker or hanging out. thank you so much for reading 💗

---

― Chris Taylor quite frankly idealizes you, you see. You're simultaneously this borderline romantic figure and someone deeply polarizing, because you effectively fall into a nurturing figure out in the wild irregardless of your age. You could be the archetype of the grandmother he writes to or the absence of the mother he is no longer on speaking terms with, but in either case, he is affected by you, so much so that he can't understand how you can possibly cook, clean and wait on, say, what he sees as the murderers and low lives of Barnes's side of the camp as well as the good and decent guys on Elias's side; it is precisely because Taylor covets you quietly that he thinks you should've chosen. It should've been either us or them. Why should you care if slimeballs like O'Neill have clean sheets? Why should you care if psychopaths like Bunny get to eat good? Why should you care if Barnes --- you know what, never mind. His admiration of you can, in ways, fester into a sort of resentment due to his fondness of you, because Chris thinks that your goodness cannot be universal and for everyone, not without offending what is a sort of moral righteousness --- after all, how kind can you really be if you're waiting on killers --- truth of the matter being, he might just be developing vestiges of jealousy he is yet to introspectively grapple with. He is territorial, yes.

― Now, O'Neill is territorial, but in a completely different way. You see, the Sergeant is totally a-okay with the idea that they've got themselves a little cook, laundress, coffee-maker, unofficial housewife, auxiliary field assistant, and attendee buzzing around them like a busy bee. He gloats over it like someone way too pleased for his own good. In fact, he is gleefully smug about it like the cat who's got the cream whenever he goes out of his way to practically invent tasks for you to do purely to drag you away from Elias's side of the camp and into the fold of Barnes's barracks where he'll ensure you're perpetually busy with some nonsense or other, perhaps even obviously so, without him even hiding his agenda too much, appearing very proud of himself in the process. Yeah, he does it spitefully. And deliberately. Man just outright doesn't want those potheads (or anyone he and his clique doesn't approve of) getting any of your aid seeing as how he goes out of his way to ensure he and his boys just usurp all your time and attention purely to rub it in to the other faction, effectively dragging you straight into the middle of the rift the platoon is going through, whether you like it or not. Even if you want to wait on someone other than his boys, O'Neill might just wag his figure, summoning you away with supposed smarmy urgency.

― To Bunny, you're a commodity. Heck, even to Junior, you're a commodity --- irregardless of the fact of Junior being extremely low in the pecking order; somehow, these youths still feel some sort of way in terms of ownership over you, emboldened and empowered by the sway and authority Staff Sergeant Barnes, who they're aligned with, holds. You belong to Barnes's side of the camp, and by extension, to them --- all of them --- something akin to valued equipment, provisions or loot and no, those weed-smoking hopheads can't have you. Shit, you're their cook, their cleaner, their whatever, and Bunny might outright get mean (well, meaner than he usually is) at the very thought of you washing someone else's laundry, making someone else's food, mending someone else's torn fatigues or just being nice to anyone in general. He doesn't think druggies deserve anything. His mind swirls to a perverse place, in fact, convinced you must be fucking one of them or even all of them because why else would you bother fixing up someone's meals? You sure ain't fucking anyone in Barnes's side of the camp...yet...so what gives, huh? You might land yourself with an accusation if you're ever caught out aiding anyone he doesn't approve of. Suddenly, you're being practically slutshamed, pressured and bullied into choosing a side.

― Rhah sees things for what they are in the long run; when you have a group full of attention starved, half-gone-native, high on blood lust, testosterone fueled men in an already tense, shaky stalemate fighting for dominance who have been away from the comforts of home for years, sometimes even a full decade and a little dame shows up playing mother to all of them, sooner or later they'll start squabbling over her like dogs over a bone and calling dibs on her service to them. It is just nature. And yes, he might just confront you over it. Ask you what you think you're doing exactly. You wanna start a war within a war, huh? Bah! How typically female of you to have no foresight. You think you're being all nice, sweet and domestic and that this would have no consequences to the inner workings of the platoon. Nah. These guys? They'll start gouging each other's eyes out over you and call it fighting over philosophical differences but Rhah knows better and he's probably the only one who lays out the situation to you honestly --- you'll cause more trouble than good by overextending yourself, his advice being to mind your own fucking business. Lay low. Survive. And get out of here the first chance your meddling ass gets.

― It is not that Wolfe doesn't like how diligent and active in your duties you are, going above and beyond, but in a sense he awkwardly sees what Rhah sees, although he never quite vocalizes it so fervently (if at all); he catches the pressure bubbling to the surface between all the men and he quite frankly secretly dreads the day all hell breaks loose; when you cook a meal for one of the boys instead of patching up someone's wounds first or promising to help shave someone and accidentally back up on your agreed upon schedule to unexpectedly go and run an errand for someone else instead in the meantime, convinced the pecking order at which you show your favor will cause no offense; he can imagine it exploding it an all out fight and him having to get in the middle of that to mediate...and quite frankly, man...he doesn't want to. He'd literally rather not. He'd rather not jump between angry bulls and prevent them from being at each other's throat over a misunderstanding and needing to explain himself to the Captain afterwards. Explain away why the men are fighting over, well...a woman. Over anyone, really. He doesn't say anything, feeling he might step on even more toes if he does interfere with the camp housewife; he just awkwardly pushes down his gulps and sheepishly waits for the day everything goes to hell.

― Oh, shit. King understands you're in a tight spot and it is precisely because he likes you, your cooking, your cleaning, your help, your kindness, your empathetic nature and everything you do for everyone free of charge that he sympathizes with your predicament like a well intentioned friend would've, whether you yourself think you're in a predicament or not; shoot, frankly he admires how you ain't afraid of entering Barnes's barracks with canteens of hot soup for those guys or mending someone's uniform while they all stare daggers at you, eating you up with them eyes. Almost wishes he could exclusively shelter you and keep you on the Underworld's side of things but he knows that ain't realistic. Higher up is gonna go askin' for you because you ain' a thing that can be kept. Ain' no good deed go unpunished by the looks of it and sooner or later, he almost predicts you yourself feeling the consequences of all the nice things you do on your own back once one of these mofos starts bein' all possessive about you, thinkin' you they wifey or sumn', leavin' you unable to shake them off. Easy to get things mixed up in the jungle. He already sees the chance in Taylor, of all people. In Bunny, to nobody's surprise. In O'Neill. Barnes and Elias are about to kill each other over you and what can a brother even do to stop all of this but hope you'll be okay in the midst of it all?

― Elias assesses what you do for the morale of the boys by being so sweet to them; he notices, he is charmed, he kindly teases you about it with what can almost border on harmless, innocent flirting, but in the same vein man's down to earth enough to humbly reject most of your offers to help him with anything, not wanting to take advantage of you or leech off of you like a parasite. See, for example, he gets why a Cherry might need encouragement. Why a Short-Timer might. A good-natured person with a pretty face there lending a hand? Being there when you need them? It is needed for survival, not just of the physical variety, but crucial for the soul's survival --- a reminder of day to day goodness. But he? He is admirably self sufficient on that front and does his share of helping others, same as you, which is exactly why he sees a vestige of himself in you, thinking you're far more than someone doing basic chores. You're the beating heart of the platoon. And his opinion of you? Only ever the highest. In fact, he might worry that your naturally helpful self might encounter trouble and that the wrong people will latch unto you, something he is very willing to jump up and defend you from, being something of a white knight of yours because he's convinced a helper always needs a helper of their own.

― The reason behind all the tension and trepidation in regards of you? The agreeable acts of service you preform for others? It all circles back to Barnes. Everyone fearing Barnes's reactions. Anticipating Barnes's next move. Trying to whisk you in to Barnes's side to gain his favor or whisk you away from him for what they see as your own good. But, whatever the case might be --- he is the epicenter of everything going on here, including your own actions; and why is that you may ask? Because he, although he might not showcase it outright, sees you as his property. His slave. In the war within the war that separates the platoon in half he believes you belong to him in the grand split of spoils. One could say he silently approves of the help and daily comforts you provide the men as a way of keeping them healthy and maintaining their well being in the sense of keeping the machine running more smoothly, but only up until a certain point beyond which he considers you his. Your hands are his to massage the sores in his shoulders while he plays poker, his to cook his (and his men's) food and ultimately his to order away from anyone he doesn't like, his attachment being borderline quietly matrimonial and that of a jealous spouse and something he is outright willing to shed blood over.

[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

[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!!