#oh to break a child’s spirit so young ….
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DP x DC prompt # 6
There’s a kid crying, a blue skinned white headed kid that was just sitting there crying his eyes out in a panic as he was covered in a very large and dark cloak that was dwarfing him… that was cute to see but, the thing wouldn’t be an issue if there weren’t for the clusterfuck of dead cultist surrounding a green ominous portal under him while the poor kiddo shed luminescent tears nonstop.
“Why is there a kid?” ‘dumb question to ask Captain but sure let’s go with that yeah?’ scoffed annoyed Constantine after eyeing the magic champion while some of the members of the Justice League finished some of the goons that were still alive and resisting, Constantine just watched in dumbfounded stupor the crying baby eldritch abomination still wailing over there.
“I’ll go check on him first” said Wonder Woman, being the first to react after finishing her part, slowly walking forward with gentle steps and humming tunes to make the small baby calm down a bit and refocus on her. Dianna never went too closer to grab the small kid, but she slowly crouched in front of him, palms out and leveling her face in a calm expression, so the kid wouldn’t freak out while she still hummed songs and cooed calming words.
The poor kid wails gradually subsided and ‘oh my god, why are those eyes way too green!’ His eyes were completely black except his irises being a bright neon green shine, his small body trembled when only small hiccups stayed, in his small crying fit the lad had ended up sucking his thumb in a desperate attempt to calm down while looking for any non-frightening competent adult and after only seeing Dianna in front of him he tried to raise his small arms towards her but immediately cried as his arms wouldn’t move at all.
“I think the little boy is injured…” said Wonder Woman, breaking the silence once all suspects were aprehended and tied down “explain what you can see Wonder Woman” chastised Batman as he tried to walk towards her to check on the small boy only to be stopped by Superman, who had his eyes shinning red as he looked at the kid “For what I can see, the small child seems to have some broken bones and some internal bleeding… also there’s seems to be a sphere in the middle of his chest?”
“The demon baby is hurt?” Constantine blurted out incredulous, Zatanna wacked him furiously for that comment “if you haven’t heard what Superman said, he said he saw a sphere so it’s not a demon John! it’s a tuttelagé you idiot!”
“How the fuck would you know that isn’t a démonos, Z?!” cussed the magician as he moved a bit back while Zatanna then moved towards Wonder Woman, with spells already healing the poor baby body “tuttelagés are known to be protective spirits of kids that died wishing to protect their loved ones, their wish is then concentrated in their chest as a sphere so to see a young one hurt like this…” Wonder Woman looks grimm at the implications while Zatanna finish healing the young spirit and allows Dianna to pick him up once he’s done healing and calmed down bit.
“Someone must have hurt his protegué so bad that his body is getting affected by it” sentenced Batman as he glared with concern at the small baby who now is now resting his head in Wonder Woman arms and falling asleep.
MEANWHILE
Danny is soo scared and hurt all around his tiny body, the wounds he had while being subjected to the examine table makes him tear up in pain while also making his chest feels funny once the weird forced summoning spell stops pulling his being into existing; green stops flooding his vision only to be meet by a dark and open space full of dead people dressed in weird costumes, so the only answer he has to this is to wail.
Because thats all he can do now, cry. He cries and cries after all what had occurred to him; he cries for his parents betrayal and rejection of his being, he cries for the cruelty they subjected him into, the torture he had to endure and almost making his core break, he cries for his friends deaths when they tried to free him from all his pain but failed.
He cries and cries until the pain into his core is unbearable because he just lost his fright, his connection to the living, his reason of being here. He’s still crying when his senses tenses the moment something changed in his surroundings, he hears fighting and grunting and something falling down and he cries harder; because he’s scared and tired and he just wants Jazz to carry him and…
There’s someone humming, nice humming, calm humming, steps coming closer and then he looks up, scared and hurt and just tired only to find a beautiful black headed and blue eyes woman dressed in a nice outfit crouching in front of him, she’s humming something to him and just looking at him with calm and such gentleness that it makes him croon at her because he feels his core sing ‘she’s nice and pretty and safeSAFEsafeSAFE’ he tries to reach out to her but his arms fell numb and ouchie and he looks up to her, in a silent plea for her so she would carry him but she’s not moving, just looking at him gently.
Until he sees another woman coming closer to them and he tenses up again, afraid and cautious, still a bit frightened by her aura but her hands are starting to glow and he immediately feels his body swaying and feeling a lot better, so he relaxes his body and let’s the pretty woman carry him so he can rest his head and nuzzle asleep.
His core sings pleased ‘I’m safe… she’s nice and safeSAFEsafeSAFE’
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stray cats, cold spaghetti | mark lee
genre: mark lee x reader, meet cute, friends to lovers (this is unedited, so forgive any typos! happy valentine's day!)
warnings: mentions of food!
summary: your cat introduces you to your new friend, mark. he's a bit more similar to an actual cat than you initially realized.
You didn’t understand the attachment people had to their pets until this stupid cat showed up. She was a stray, with mangled fur and callous eyes, who popped up some months ago. You had checked for any postings about missing pets, and even asked a few of your neighbors, but no one claimed the ratty thing. It’s not that you disliked animals entirely- you’re not a sociopath. You just aired more on the side of nonchalance.
The cat could sense this, ever since the first time you two crossed paths. You remember that night so vividly. You couldn’t sleep. You laid on your couch, staring at the ceiling, hoping slumber would whisk you away sooner than later. Just as your eyes began to flutter shut, you heard whining. Visceral, pained whining. At first, you tried to ignore it, but when you heard a sound that suspiciously sounded like a young child, you figured it’d be better to survey the situation just in case. When you opened your door to a begging cat, you sighed. Damn the neighbors for feeding this thing. Now she thinks she owns the place.
“I bet you’re hungry, huh.” The cat bore into you with bright green eyes, tilting its head as if to say, “Duh!”
So you re-entered your home, Googled “What human food can cats eat?”, and came back with canned tuna and half a carrot. The brat looked right past the carrot and inhaled the tuna, this being its first real meal of the day. In between scarfing down food, the gray cat looked at you inquisitively. “Any more where that came from?” her eyes said. She sidled up next to your leg, purring and rubbing her head against it.
“That’s all I got,” you had confessed.
You named her June, since that’s the month she came into your life. Now, you’re best friends. June is actually pretty chill. She likes watching movies with you and, strangely, likes going on walks. After getting her groomed, she’s kinda cute too. You hated to admit it, but you love June. You imagine this is how people felt about their kids- without the initial reluctance of course. June comes and goes as she pleases as if she’s still a stray, but always comes back by dinner time.
When June isn’t back at her usual time one day in October, you get a bit nervous. She never does this. Before breaking out into a full out panic, you remember she’s got a collar and a tracker from the vet now. No biggie. Opening the app that’s connected to June’s tracker, you meander down the path you usually walk with her when it’s warmer out. When you’re a few blocks from your place, you see her, relief flooding your system. Then you realize there’s a man petting her.
“Junie! June!” You run up to her, taking her into your arms. You snuggle her into a tight embrace, planting a kiss on her head. You’re so caught up in your reunion with June that you forget about the stranger standing in front of you. Oh yeah. You should probably say something. His hair is somewhere in between auburn and brown, making his face look incredibly warm. You hold June a bit tighter.
“Cute cat,” the stranger says. His voice is a bit hoarse. “Thought she was a stray before I saw the collar.” Um, okay? June’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s clearly cared for.
“Yeah, she’s mine. Do you, like, follow strays around in your free time?” you ask with a bite to your tone.
“Do you let your pet wander around like a stray in your free time?” Fair, you think, but still rude.
“She’s a free spirit,” you contest.
“So you let her wander.”
“This is the first time she hasn’t come home for dinner. Our relationship is built mostly on my ability to provide her food- which works for me.” You’re not sure why you’re explaining your relationship with your cat. Who cares what this guy thinks?
June jumps out of your arms, back to the ground, and walks up to the stranger’s legs. He bends down to resume petting her. From his crouched stance, he looks into your eyes. The eye contact makes you shiver.
“She’s sweet,” he says. “What’s her name?”
“June. She’s a charmer- and incredibly manipulative. She probably thought she could swindle you out of some food.”
“Do I look easy to take advantage of?” He asks.
You assess him. Oversized hoodie, baggy pants, sneakers covered in scuffs... Maybe he’s a dancer. Or skateboards. You’d be into that, you think. Skater boys weren’t really your thing, but they could be- as long as it’s him. If anything, the guy just looks… cozy, all bundled up like this. There’s a tinge of red on the tip of his nose from the nippy air. He’s smirking to himself at his (flirtatious) question, making his cheek look plump. You want to pinch it.
You want to make him as warm as his eyes make you feel.
You realize you’ve probably been staring. Geez, what was his question? Oh yeah. “Yeah. Like a pushover,” you say. “In the best way, of course.”
“Ouch.”
“Only a real sap would fall victim to June’s powers. She can sense lackeys. No offense.”
“I’m gonna choose to believe that means you think I’m a nice guy.”
“Nice enough.”
“I’ll take it.” The two of you stand in awkward silence for a few moments, June having finally grown bored of her new friend. The guy stands from his crouching position and sways a bit as he awaits your next move.
“Well, like I said, this little lady was late for dinner. So if it’s okay with you,” you pick up June, then continue your thought, “We’ll be heading out.”
As you turn to walk back home, the stranger says, “I… didn’t catch your name, by the way.”
Right. You introduced June, but not yourself. Go figure. “Oh. I’m ___.”
“Cool. I’m Mark.” He looks like a ‘Mark’-boyish and chipper.
“Nice to meet you, Mark. Well, have a nice night.” You start to walk again, but Mark interjects yet again.
“The sun’s setting,” he blurts it out like he’s trying to rid his mouth of the words as quickly as possible. “Can I walk you home?” Then he amends, “I live nearby, so I know it gets kinda dark in this neighborhood. Not many street lights.”
You think about it. You’re not getting any serial killer vibes, plus he’s already passed the June test. (And if you're being honest, he's very cute.) “Um, sure. Thanks.”
The two of you walk in silence, save for June’s purring. When you make it to your apartment building, you stop. Your gut is twisting, mind fixating on the warmth radiating off Mark’s body. Your fingertips are whirring with electricity. You have a bad idea.
“Would you maybe… wanna come in for dinner?” Mark turns to look at you. “I never really learned how to cook for one person, so I always have a bunch of leftovers.”
It’s a lie, but not entirely. You like to cook enough food for the entire week. Mark doesn't need to know this, you conclude.
Mark nods to himself. “Uh, sure. I could eat.”
As soon as you place June down in your apartment, she sprints to her food bowl. Silly girl.
“Sorry about the mess. Wasn’t expecting company,” you say. “I hope you like spaghetti.”
“Love it,” Mark responds. (You’d later find out this was a lie.)
“Perfect.”
That’s how you and Mark became friends- similarly to how June came into your life. You fed him. In all honesty, he wasn’t that fond of your spaghetti. He just liked the way you smiled each time he took a bite. The two of you continued to get to know one another while making food. Neither of you are great cooks, so you usually team up. It’s become a love language of sorts, sending recipes back and forth to try. You look forward to eating with Mark more than anything these days.
You’re more than aware of your underlying feelings for Mark, but you’ve managed to temper them. You don’t want to scare him off, but the tension is relentless. You’re making tiramisu and your shoulders touch. You’re piping flowers on a cupcake while Mark pulls tendrils of hair away from your face. You’re whisking meringue into stiff peaks while Mark hums to June in the living room. It’s heart achingly domestic.
Oftentimes you imagine Mark as your husband. In your daydreams the two of you are wearing matching aprons, flour dusting his nose. He kisses you, a fit of giggles attacking your system. You’re absolutely smitten and unabashedly so.
In reality, today is Valentine’s Day. Mark suggests he comes over and makes pizza. You don’t think Mark realizes what day it is until you suggest making your pizzas heart shaped. He says he forgot to buy his friend Jaehyun a birthday gift.
“This is, like, kinda romantic.” If being covered in pizza sauce and flour is romantic, then yes. This was very romantic. You have a nice spread here- fresh basil, mozzarella, alfredo sauce, vodka sauce, roma tomatoes… It smells so nice. Mark keeps sneaking chunks of cheese into his mouth. He looks like a little mouse. June is fast asleep on the couch. You’ve finally perfected the heart shape of your dough, and begin to spread alfredo sauce on your pizza.
“Your parameters for romance are very strange, Mark Lee.”
“If you close your eyes, it’s like we’re in Italy.” When he says things like this, they only fuel your daydreams. You blame the flush of your face on the preheating oven.
“Venice, I hope.”
“Of course.”
Mark’s pizza looks more like an anatomical heart than the kind you’d doodle in a notebook. He scoffs when you tell him this, feigning offense.
“Should I remind you of how your cinnamon rolls came out a few weeks ago?” They were awful. At a certain point, you had given up and rolled them into balls.
“My cinnamon rolls/balls were innovative and transcendent.”
“I don’t even know how you messed them up,” Mark says as he puts the pizzas in the oven, “We bought pre-made dough.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
When the pizzas are done baking, the two of you sit at the dinner table. It’s a different feel for the two of you, seeing as you usually eat together on the couch. You take a bite of your pizza, savoring the taste.
“Not bad. Wanna taste?” Mark nods. Instinctively, the two of you swap plates, trying each others’ creations.
“I think you’re better at making savory foods.”
“I agree.”
You and Mark continue to eat your pizzas, taking gulps of your respective drinks in between bites. Beer for Mark, white wine for you. Jazz plays softly from your shitty phone speaker, and June’s snores fill in the gaps of silence. After a bit, Mark’s face goes red from the alcohol. You liked seeing him tipsy. He gets all wavy and fluid, unconsciously swaying side to side like a daisy in the wind. Your face feels fuzzy from the wine and you find yourself biting your tongue.
You’ve had to be more conscious of your alcohol intake around Mark lately. It felt as if at any moment, your love for him would simply become unbearable. Recently, it’s been hard to just look at him- even while sober. Tonight, apparently, you threw caution to the wind.
“Mark?” you say.
“Hmm….” He’s drifting away, lethargic from the food and beer. You repeat his name again, this time getting his full attention. When his glassy eyes meet yours, the force behind them knocks the wind out of you.
“Yes?” says Mark. He takes another sip of beer.
You can’t do this, you think, backtracking entirely. The lie escapes as a garbled mess of words: “Forgot what I was gonna say.” You take a nervous gulp of your wine.
Mark slams his fist on the table, in a drunken stupor. The sound startles you, but there’s no malice behind his motion. In fact, he’s laughing to himself. “Bullshit.”
“I really did lose my train of thought. Maybe it’ll come back to me.”
“I know you’re lying. Like you lied about that cold ass spaghetti you used to lure me in!” he says, referencing the night you met. The spaghetti wasn’t that cold…
“I really did make too much spaghetti that night! Plus, you kept June safe. It was the least I could do!”
Mark begins to gather your plates and cups, walking over to the kitchen to place them in the sink. As he stands, he says, “I won’t force you to say it, but I know you’re lying.”
Then he moves to run the faucet. The rushing water fills the silence like TV static, buzzing and itching in your ears. Your throat is burning. You want to talk to him openly, honestly- but something’s stopping you. Mark washes the dishes wordlessly. With his back turned to you, his words hang heavy in the air. Mark never pries but simultaneously knows you so intimately. You love being known by him. You love knowing him.
You simply love him.
“Why’d you walk me home that night?” Your voice barely pierces the air. The question practically squeaks out of you.
“What?” Mark turns off the facet and dries his hands on a towel, turning to look at you.
“The night we met. Why’d you walk me home?”
He contemplates the question for a moment, closing his eyes to visualize the night. Then he says, “Wanted to make sure you got home safely.”
The moment is delicate and fragile. You’re scared that if not nimble enough, if not cradled with the utmost gentleness, it will shatter. You proceed with caution.
“Mark?” At the sound of his name, Mark returns to his seat at the dining table.
“I think… I love you.” Mark chuckles. “Don’t laugh!”
“You think?” he says, now breaking out into a full-bodied laugh.
“Yeah. I think so.”
“I love you too.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “...I think.”
“Very funny, asshole.”
Mark reaches over the table and places a chaste kiss upon your lips. “Okay, I think I’m a little more sure now,” he says.
“Need some more reassurance?” you ask. Mark nods.
You lean in to kiss him this time, and just before your lips touch, you hear whining. You pull back to look down, seeing June curled up beneath your chair. Her timing is always impeccable. The two of you giggle, sealing the moment with a fervent kiss. You melt into his touch, the elation coursing through your veins. When you come up for air, you meet Mark’s eyes.
“What?” he says. “I’m a better kisser than you thought?”
“I was just wondering… you’re still gonna wash the dishes, right?”
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Hello! I really love your work, I just HAD to pop in your inbox after seeing your fics about Alastor's daughter.
What if Alastor's daughter is an angel that is scared of demons.
Like, when they were alive, Alastor's daughter used to be such a sweet child and I mean SWEET. Would never hurt a soul. Though she got killed at a young age because of envious children her age, left her in the forest to scare her but she got mauled by wolves and died.
Before she died, she was aware of Alastor's killings but she wouldn't speak up because she was too scared. IMAGINE ALASTOR BEING SUCH A LOVING DAD BUT ALL SHE CAN THINK ABOUT IS WHAT IF SHES NEXT IF SHE FUCKS UP AROUND HIM.
And he's not aware that she thinks that way. So when Sera sent her to investigate the Hazbin Hotel (to see if Charlie's theory is really true) she sees Alastor and gets tense even though he's so sincere around her.
How would everything gooo omg I'd like to see how creative you'll get!!
.
You never hurt a soul and that’s what helped you get into heaven.
You loved your father. You did but you were also terrified of him.
He was a serial killer, a murderer, and even if he tucked you into bed at night and made the best food, you could still be next.
You felt guilty the day he died because while you were heartbroken you were also so relieved.
You confessed to the police his sins as soon as they came to the house to break the news of his death.
You were crying, choking on tears as you told them everything.
It was the best and worst day of your life.
Despite that, life remained difficult for you.
People were cruel and mean and heartless and you died before the age of twenty.
You made it to Heaven.
You were a top winner, one revered for their kindness.
That’s how you got asked by Sera to go to Hell to observe Charlie’s idea first hand. Her being too untrusting of the angels to not start killing and “sanitizing” Hell as soon as they got there.
You were excited. You met Charlie while she was in Heaven.
She was somewhat of a kindred spirit. You got on with her well.
(Alastor actually does reminisce over you and his mother both in Hell. The lyric “You’re like a child that I wish that I had” in Hells Greatest Dad would have been changed to “You’re like the child which I used to have.”)
You went through the portal with her and Vaggie.
Both girls seemed conflicted, something must have happened during the meeting they had with the angels but Charlie quickly put on a smile and started explaining what everything was.
When you get to the Hotel, you seem him. You never thought you’d see your father again. You weren’t sure you wanted to even if you missed him. You immediately froze.
His brows furrowed as he looked at you before his smile widened, sharp teeth replacing the human ones you once knew but they were still coffee-stained.
“Is that my darling angel?” he asked as he walked towards you. “My dear, look how you’ve grown.”
He used the tips of his fingers to angle your face towards him and you couldn’t pull away. You were frozen in place, looking at him with wide eyes.
“You two know each other?” Charlie asked.
“Why yes, we do indeed,” Alastor said. “You recall I mentioned having a child.”
“Oh my god! Oops, sorry. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all. But this is so great!”
“Yeah,” you said meekly. “So great.”
Alastor would notice something wrong. He remembers your behaviors well. He’d try to make you comfortable while unknowingly pressing your buttons more.
Everyone else also notices something wrong, except Niffty.
Sir Pentious and Charlie likely think you’re just anxious and try to make you feel as comfortable and welcomed as possible.
Vaggie assumes it’s because you’re in Hell.
Husk and Angel realize it’s because Alastor’s there.
The two team up to make sure you’re never ever left completely alone.
They even manage to pull you away for a bit.
Husk offers some good advice and true silence not filled with the background of a radio crackling.
Angel let’s you bury your head in his fluff.
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Smut request for Eddie, but I’m worried you might think it’s too close to your single!dad series! But I’m just gonna give it to you anyway because you’re my favorite smut writer. Dad!eddie and babysitter!reader? (Obviously 18+)
author’s note: it’s not at all!! i really wanted to try out something a little different so hopefully this isn’t terrible lol. i hope you enjoy!
cw: 18+ (minors dni), large age gap (21 & 36), dad!eddie, power dynamic (but it’s still pretty balanced, just given the content), virgin!reader, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, all the sex stuff—don’t come into my inbox with bs, if you don’t like, don’t read. but if you do, ily.
word count: 5.6k
Eddie liked to think that with being older came more wiser thoughts, actions—but through experience, he was still fumbling his way through life the same way he had back when in his early twenties, fresh out of high school and making the decent money that he could between shifts at the plant with Wayne, who had to nearly bribe his boss to give him the job, and the small shows he kept up with Corroded Coffin—not that it ever brought in a lot of money.
But, it did bring him to the life he had now; nearing his late thirties, fresh divorcee and a spirited young daughter to prove it. He couldn’t even believe it himself half the time—marriage was never something he planned out, or kids, or searching for babysitters instead of opting to force his child into daycare—spending hours looking through possible prospects, vetting them thoroughly. It felt like he was living a dream most of the time, until reality plopped down on his lap with a giant grin on her face, stray curls cascading down her forehead.
“Do you have to go, daddy?” His daughter asks, “Can’t you play another night?”
Any shows he did now were more for his own enjoyment—monthly shows at a small bar at the edge of town. They gathered a decent crowd and lended to Eddie meeting some very friendly ladies, not that he cared that much.
He had his eyes elsewhere and it was a damn shame nothing would come of it—as horrible as he felt about.
“Sorry, sweetie—I made a promise.” He explains to her, trying his best to lay it out in her terms, “You know I can’t break promises.”
You step through the door only a few moments after, overnight bag snug over your shoulder as you squealed gleefully at his daughter—her previous qualms about Eddie leaving disappearing in an instant.
“You could stay home and play board games with us!” She suggests excitedly, pulling at your hand. You smile knowingly at Eddie, it was typical behavior that didn’t surprise either of you.
“Yeah, Mr. Munson—she’s a pro at connect four, believe me.”
You say his name the way he hates, the way you know he hates. He’s told you time and time again—Eddie. It’s Eddie.
It felt like you were doing it on purpose most of the time.
And so what if you were?
“Oh, I do.” He smiles smugly, crinkling his nose toward the young girl as he fetches his keys from the letting. “Her mom said she might come tonight—maybe in the morning. I can never really predict her, but you’re fine with staying the night just in case, right?”
“I did bring my bag for a reason.” You retort with a playful tease to your tone, swinging the back around as you drop it on the empty loveseat. “You know I don’t have a problem with it.”
“I just—there’s no telling how tonight is going to go.” Eddie admits.
There was no telling how drunk he was going to get—that’s what he means to say. Your eyebrow quirks up in interest and Eddie only shakes his head. There was never any judgment—his life was his life. But, being so young and naive still, it made you wonder how life could really be as you grew older. Eddie seemed to be happy; great friends, nice house, a small but close knit family, he had it all.
Eddie felt the monotony set in the moment he tied himself down to his ex-wife, but being newly single—it had sparked something inside him that wouldn’t die out. Maybe it was an early midlife crisis, a lapse of judgment, but it made him want the things he knew he couldn’t have.
The clues weren’t there initially either. Eddie was as respectful and stern as you expected when you first met, scrutinizing and over-examining every part of your life—you were the secondary protector of his daughter outside of him, it only seemed fair.
But, things took a slow turn as you started to come around more—dinners were occasional, cigarettes out on the porch before you drove home, small talks about what you had to deal with while he was away that soon turned into Eddie being more open with his personal life, and in turn, yours.
There wasn’t a part of his life that was much of a secret anymore—you knew the dirtiest details, the saddest ones. He confided in you a little too easily, but you were just as much at fault for letting it happen.
The first night things shift, you keep telling yourself it’s not actually happening. You had your keys in hand, ready to step out the door until Eddie grasps at your wrist, nodding you back in for a glass of wine, Chardonnay, or whatever the hell he kept around in his cabinet.
“I…don’t drink wine, Eddie.” You say wearily, not complaining about the tug on your wrist as you follow him.
“I forget—you probably like beer, don’t you?” He teases, “At least I did at your age.”
Admittedly, you were twenty one—so it wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong per-say. You had graduated, opted out of college, and made most of your living through odd jobs and nannying—Eddie’s was probably the most stable you’ve been, even if you weren’t a live-in. You saw his daughter nearly everyday, dealt with his chaotic ex-wife as often as he did, and it felt like you had embedded yourself in his life. Eddie couldn’t complain, he liked having you around.
“I—I really shouldn’t.” You say regretfully, twisting the key in your hand. Eddie senses your nervousness, leaning an arm out against his open fridge. “I have to drive home and I—“
“Just one.” Eddie barters, holding up the two frosted bottles, “You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to.”
You smile slightly, nodding despite your better judgment.
“Fine. One.” You say sternly, “And you still have to pay me for this week, don’t think I forgot.”
“Can you stretch it a week?” He asks, “I promised the little devil I’d get her that guitar she’s been begging for and her birthday is in a couple days.”
“I know.” You tell him obviously, but the smile you return is sweet. “But that’s fine—just, next week for sure. I have to pay rent.”
“Promise.” He grins, a perfect smile that has you clenching your thighs together every time. “Cheers.”
The clink of the bottles is deafening and Eddie moves to the corner of the counter where you take your seat in the barstool, leaning his torso over as he sips at the beer.
Being close wasn’t strange—you’ve sat next to him on the couch, at the dinner table, but the air is so thick you feel it caught in your throat. Your eyes flick up as the bottle tips to your lips, letting out a small giggle as he tips it up with his finger, a small amount of the liquid trickling down the side of your mouth.
You recover with a small cough, shoving at him weakly.
“Hey, that’s not nice.” You say, feigning annoyance. “You’re wasting a perfectly good beer.”
“Sorry,” He lies, taking a long chug of his own before placing it down on the counter. “So, plans for the weekend?”
He asked every week, it wasn’t strange to you. Eddie always seemed genuinely interested, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like that now—and maybe he was just stringing you along to keep you here, but you played into it so well.
You wanted it—maybe not as bad as him, but it was there.
“No,” You say shyly, shaking your head, “Just my bed and a couple movies. Same old thing.”
“No bars? No clubs?”
“Nope.” Your lips pop around the consonant, taking a small slip before shoving the bottle toward the middle. “They don’t interest me.”
“Come on,” He prys playfully, “There’s gotta be something you do for fun, sweetheart?”
And it was the same thing he had called you after a week of taking in the job, a kind endearment that didn’t make you feel any certain way, a sweet way to differentiate from calling you by your name, but it sits on his tongue like sin—begging for you to lick it off, let him defile you the way he desperately wanted to. It wasn’t lost on either of you how tense the air had become—it was Eddie’s web and he had you caught.
And as much as you enjoyed it, tonight just wasn’t the night.
He’d had a bit too much to drink, alcohol dripping from his breath.
“That is fun.” You insist, “Some of us don’t need to go out to the club and relive our younger years to feel good, you know?”
It’s meant with all the care in the world, a playful jab for how insistent he was being in keeping you here tonight, dragging out the conversation instead of getting to the point.
You would’ve been more satisfied if he had just kissed you at the door and let you leave, but then again, this was pretty enjoyable.
“You’ve never seen me play,” Eddie points out, “I think you’d really enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I would,” You agree before shaking your head slightly, “but I wouldn’t be caught dead at that bar.”
Eddie makes a face, a little taken aback at the insult.
“How come?” He asks curiously.
“A bunch of creepy old men who stick around to prey on the younger girls who sit and watch you play—no thank you.”
Eddie laughs through his nose, leaning into your space slightly.
“What about me?” He asks, wide eyes glazed over in a haze.
“Creepy? No.” You assure him. “Old—-eh?”
“I’m thirty six, that hurts.” Eddie pouts slightly.
“So old,” You reinforce, “We should probably put you into a retirement home already.”
“I can promise you, sweetheart.” Eddie says menacingly, bottom lip pulling between his teeth briefly to nip at the skin. “Nothing about me is old.”
Your eyebrows raise in subtle interest, leaning forward slightly.
“I could show you.” He suggests, eyes glancing down at your lips briefly before catching your gaze. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath, see the freckles on his face this close, faint but there. “If you want.”
He can see the gears in your head turning, deciding. But, it quickly fades as you pull back, his lips barely brushing yours.
“I have to go.” You tell him again, insisting more sternly despite how kind your voice sounds. “Eddie, we can’t.”
He looks instantly dejected, pulling back slightly and rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’d forget this in the morning surely, his words had been slurring together most of the night and he wouldn’t have acted so boldly otherwise—would he?
“Let me walk you.” He insists, sliding your bottle toward the trash, his own following until the clink to the bottom.
The walk is slow, palpable, his toes on your heels as he hovers behind you. He grabs the door handle before you can reach for it, pulling it open silently.
“Tell her happy birthday for me?” You ask hopefully, knowing you wouldn’t be around in the day despite how much you wanted to be. “Please?”
Eddie nods quietly, lips pursed together in a tight line.
“Yeah, of course.” He assures you. “Goodnight.”
You lean up on your toes as you turn, caution to the window as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, stubble rubbing against the sensitive skin of your lip. You can feel the sigh Eddie releases as you make contact, his hand coming to rest against your hip gently, a featherlight touch that if you were to have blinked you would surely miss.
“Goodnight.” You smile, words spoken against his skin.
It’s the same touch Eddie reminds himself of as he tightens his hand around his cock that night, stretched out and writhing on his bed in the loneliness of his empty house—and god did he wish you were there to keep him company.
His ex-wife shows up an hour before midnight, a lot more put together than you’d usually expect, but she fetches her daughter without fuss, leaving you to clean up the mess left behind.
It doesn’t take long, only a little over a half an hour—and your immediate thought is to leave, get the hell out of there, enjoy your weekend like you planned, but you still hadn’t been paid for the week prior, and you’d be damned if Eddie didn’t follow through like he promised.
“Hey—“ His voice is soft as he shakes you away, your figure hunched over the arm of the couch where you napped briefly, peering up at him through bleary eyes. You poured slightly, his face becoming clearer by the second, “did she pick her up?”
He looks surprisingly sober, which is unusual for him.
Admittedly, it was a weird night. His mind had been racing all day, he didn’t play as well as he’d wanted, and he spent the entire night hoping you’d still be there when he got home.
At least one thing has gone right for him.
“What time is it?” You ask, avoiding the question.
“A little after midnight.” He tells you, watching as you leaned up from your reclined position, adjusting your clothes and smoothing out your hair as best you could.
“Uh yeah—yeah, an hour ago.” Your speech is slow and spacey, “Why?”
“Well, I figure you would have left already.” Eddie says admittedly, running a hand through his tousled curls, the hairstyle never changed—and you were kind of grateful for it.
You’d seen pictures of him younger, mid-twenties and dating all the way back to his first day of high school—he didn’t look all that different aside from the slight aging in his face, worry lines buried into the corner of his eyes and that light scruff he wore every now and then when he didn’t shave for a week.
“You still need to pay me.” You retort with a tinge of annoyance, holding your hand out expectantly.
Eddie snorts, reaching for his wallet and slapping the fold of bills into your hand. He hadn’t forgotten at all.
“Did you have a good time?” You ask curiously, stuffing the money in your wallet before burying it back into the back placed on the coffee table, kicking your feet up behind you on the cushion as you stared up expectantly.
You could’ve fled immediately after he handed over the cash, but something was telling you otherwise. Eddie frowned slightly but it disappeared as quickly as it came.
“It was alright.” He tells you halfheartedly, “I hope my kid didn’t give you too much of a hard time, she can be a little, uh—“
“She’s never a problem for me.” You assure him.
There’s a long beat of silence as Eddie lingers about, hands shoved in his pocket as he leans against the wall. You hadn’t talked about that night, hadn’t even mentioned it, but it was still heavy on your mind—and hopefully just as heavy on his.
You pat the cushion next to you expectantly, friendly—it wasn’t out of the ordinary or weird, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate as he throws himself down lazily, stretched out at the other corner as he kicks his shoes off and onto the floor, smiling at you like he always did.
“No groupies tonight?” You tease, knowing he’d had a few experiences with them, none of them memorable or positive.
They were always messy and weird and everything he hated.
Eddie mocks a laugh and rolls his eyes slightly, “I shouldn’t have gone out tonight anyways, too much on my mind.”
You give him a skeptical look, turning to him fully with your arms bugged around your legs, chin tucked up by your knees. He tries to ignore how innocent you look, wide eyes and eager, hanging on his every last word.
“You wouldn’t understand.” He excuses, letting out a deep, heavy sigh as he rests his head against the back of the couch, legs spreader unnecessarily wide. Your eyes draw to the stretch in his jeans near his groin, quickly darting up to meet his gaze with a soft smile.
“Try me.” You shrug, tongue poking out slightly between teeth as you bite down gently, “You’d be surprised.”
Eddie huffs again, a mix between a laugh and flippant noise of dismissal, “Come closer.” He suggested, motioning toward the cushion positioned between you two. You crawled forward without question, resuming a similar position. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“No—this couch feels amazing, actually.” You tell him honestly.
“Sweetheart.” He says like a prayer, head tilted down slightly despite how his gaze still stays. “That’s not what I mean.”
And he’s not drunk—stone cold fucking sober, actually. That’s what intimidates you the most, his willingness to do whatever he felt he needed to have you. It wasn’t just the influence of fuzzy inhibitions. It was genuine, selfish want. Something he knew he shouldn’t have, couldn’t have—yet here you were.
“Around you?” You ask, he nods slowly. “Never.”
The touch he returns is careful, fingers wrapping around your ankle gently, rubbing soft touches into the skin. You follow his movements, the silence lingering.
“And now?” Eddie asks quietly, eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning back to his slowly moving hand.
A slow drag of his middle finger up your calf, up under the curve of your knee until he can wrap his fingers around it and widen your legs slightly, arms spilling from where they’re snug and tight around you, forcing you to sit up slightly. There’s no resistance when he pushes your legs apart, eyes darting toward the apex of your thighs. Your breath catches slightly, hands falling behind you in an effort to keep you upright. You’ve never been more thankful than to have chosen a dress on a night like this and Eddie can’t even act like he’s able to keep it together, thin lace panties on display before his very eyes.
“Do you want me to stop?” He asks when you don’t answer his first question, your chest rising and falling rapidly at his lingering touch, guiding along the inside of your thigh. The leg that isn’t bracketed against the back of the couch falters to the floor, spreading you so wide that Eddie has no other choice but to rub his fingers over the clothed mound of your cunt, pulling a soft gasp from your chest. “Answer me.”
“Nono,” You rush out embarrassingly quickly, “please, don’t.”
It’s exactly what he wants to hear. Needy, desperate—everything he was feeling just as intensely.
“Have you ever been touched like this?” He asks, words careful and precise, his movements as such, dragging a single finger down the seam, pressing into the growing spot of wetness there.
And you can’t take your eyes off of him, same as he does for you, it’s so much more than admiring your body, rather admiring the way you react to his touches, taking it all in. Your mouth hangs slightly, soft breathy gasp escaping.
You shake your head shyly. As much as you would’ve liked to lie and say you had tons of experience, you didn’t. Most of the time you lied, afraid of the ridicule, but you’d been saving yourself for someone special—and if that was Eddie, so be it.
His finger curves around the barrier of your underwear, forcing it to the side until there’s skin against skin and he feels it, if he wasn’t attempting be so coy he’d make a comment about how wet you already were, but the words are lost on him as he drags a finger through the pool of wetness and presses gently against your clit, unmoving as he watches you.
“Is this okay?” He checks in again. There was never a doubt in his mind, but he needed to ask for reassurance, to know that he wasn’t just dreaming again. “Do you like it?”
You bite harshly at your bottom lip, nodding a fervent yes in response. The heat invades your face, your eyes, practically your entire body as it flushes under Eddie’s gaze. The tension had always been there, but it had finally snapped and you couldn’t help but stare at him now, watching as his face contorted into his own version of pleasure, idly running his open palm over the front of his pants, palming his growing cock as it sat heavy in his jeans.
“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encourages, “Don’t go shy on me now.”
You giggle softly—it was completely unlike you, knowing you talked his ear off every chance you had, but there wasn’t a single word or thought in your head that made sense right now.
“I’m sorry,” You apologize meekly, “I don’t know what—what to say.”
Eddie smiles warmly, head resting back against the couch as he slips a finger inside you wordlessly, just the beginning of his first knuckle, not enough of an intrusion to make you feel anything.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He says softly, “how you feel, maybe?”
“Good,” You chirp quickly, “I’m okay.”
His finger pushes in more, breaching past the tight entrance and you gasp, finally breaking eye contact as your head luls back, gaze caught on the ceiling as he moves slowly, pulling his finger out gently before pushing back in—it’s torture, count throbbing with every movement he made. You could hear the soft ruffle of fabric, metal against metal and a zipper being undone and when you finally have the courage to look up, you’re not sure you’ll ever recover.
It’s not the first dick you’ve seen and you’re not sure it will be the last, but you can’t help staring and taking it all in. They’re never pretty or enticing or enough to make your mouth water—but with Eddie, that’s all out the window.
He’s thick, cut, and everything that intimidates you. He’s confident in the way he holds him, let’s spread wide as his hands come down to cup his balls gently before traveling up his shaft, squeezing over the sensitive head.
“Fuck, sweetheart.” He coos, pulling his working fingers out to glide over your clit, rubbing soft and timid circles until you’re moaning out his name—it’s like music to his ears. “You’ve really never done anything?”
“I’ve—I’ve kissed boys.” You admit, “And girls—but never, never—“
“Never let them touch you,” He finishes for you, “have you?”
You nod, affirming his statement.
“Can I have you?” He asks softly, voice sweet and dripping with adoration, “I want you to be sure, don’t lie to me.”
And you can’t even properly describe how badly you’ve wanted him. It felt like crossing a line—like sleeping with your boss, but lust wins you over.
You nod slowly, “Yes. Just—I don’t know what I’m doing, not really. I don’t want to screw anything up.”
“There’s not much to it,” He comforts, removing his hand from your aching cunt and grabbing your own hand, guiding it over his dick, pulling his shirt up slightly where the tip rests against his lower stomach. You always forget how toned he is, how well he takes care of his body, always hiding himself under his work clothes and suits, “I’ll talk you through, okay?”
“Okay.” You answer, letting him squeeze your fingers around the shaft, dragging your hand up slightly before pulling back down, creating a slow rhythm. He grunts softly, eyes half-lidded as he continues the motion until he thinks you’ve got it, resting his hand over your thigh, traveling up until he can squeeze at the curve of your hip, feet tucked under you as you lean over his lap slightly. It’s like soft velvet against your even softer fingertips—Eddie notices the difference immediately, used to his horrible calloused hands all worked and worn out from his jobs, the joints aching with age. It gets the job down, but it’s never as good as this. Ever.
It does grow boring though—not that you didn’t enjoy every soft sound and subtle face that Eddie made when you squeezed him a little too harshly or teased your thumb over the head of his cock, swirling through the oppulescent precome heading at the tip.
“Can I—“ The words catch in your throat when his eyes lick on, peeking out from under his previously closed eyelids.
He sees the way you glance toward his dick, smiling at your bashful awkwardness and nods, “If you ask nicely, that is.”
He’s only teasing, but he loves watching you squirm, trying to find the courage to ask for what you want. You’re always so confident, sure of yourself—it’s one of the reasons Eddie adored you so much, there was never any doubt with you. He never had to worry.
“Please?” You retort playfully, watching as Eddie’s grin grew wider, “Please, Eddie?”
He nods, urging you down between his spread legs, forcing his jeans down further until he can remove them fully, letting you settle until you're comfortable.
You expect it to feel a little awkward, peering up at him as he does down to you, cock still heavy in your hand as he pushes your hair away, gathering it into his hands skillfully—but truthfully, the feeling never approaches.
You’ve talked to your friends about it before, seen small clips in porn, and none of it ever really made sense, and especially not now as you’re sitting between his legs, staring at his dick and hoping that you weren’t about to make a complete full of yourself.
“Don’t laugh.” You tell him, a small pout forming on your face.
“Never, sweetheart.” He comforts you, free hand rubbing the underside of your chin, following as your lips draw forward, closing over the head of cock, swirling your tongue testingly over the tip, through the slit to taste the salty slick of him that had formed there. Eddie groans softly, the first real noise he’s made all night, face scrunching up in concentration as he cradled your head, hair and all, as you moved your way down, taking him sparingly into your mouth until your lips connected with the hand you had around him, covering what you couldn’t reach.
“That’s it.” He compliments, “Fuck, that’s perfect.”
You barely acknowledge him, but given how hard you were trying to concentrate on not fucking up, he understood. His words flowed freely, openly, and once they started they never stopped.
“Look at you, so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” Eddie says softly, pulling your chin forward slightly from where he had a tight grip on your face, forcing you deeper. You gagged slightly, breathing through your nose. “Hold it, sweetheart. I know you can.”
If you weren’t so eager to please, you would’ve pulled away immediately, but you allow him to hold you there, cock heavy on your tongue until you can’t take it anymore, pulling away with a harsh gasp, lips shining obscenely as you stared up at Eddie.
It’s the same look he had the first time he met you, but a sharp edge of something more, something dangerous.
“Stand up,” He instructs, a guiding hand running along your thigh as you go, fingers delving under your dress to pull at your underwear, slipping the fabric down your legs carefully. He flips the fabric of your dress up, dragging the soft surface of his lips along your upper thigh, eyes following you the entire way, “good, sweetheart—can I taste you?”
You nod quickly, hands cautiously running over the top of his head and through his thick curls, whimpering soundly at the way he chuckles, deep and gruff against your cunt, raising your leg over his shoulder carefully, his hands resting at your back to steady you.
It’s like scolding hot fire with the first touch, his tongue delving deep and running up your cunt, ghosting along your clit as he bites playfully at your folds, looking up at you sparingly to gauge your reaction.
You couldn’t even act like you were able to keep it together, moaning unabashedly as the hands in his hair soon traveled down his back, body curling over him slightly as he made it his mission to torture you relentlessly, sucking at your sensitive clit until you’re softly tapping at his back, silently begging for a break while the words are still caught in your throat.
“Tapping out already?” He teases, squeezing the soft globes of your ass. You shake your head defiantly, peaking his interest
“I want you,” You tell him coyly, “I’ve been thinking about it and—“
“Oh, hey—“ He soothes, “That’s special, you don’t have to give that to me, sweetheart. You’ve already given me plenty.”
Another defiant head shake, shoving his hands away as you took a careful seat on his lap, his eyes following you intensely, arms held out at his side as you seated yourself against his cock, the heat of your cunt striking his body with the reality of this situation.
“No, you don’t get to do that.” You tell him, noticing the concerned look on his face, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”
Eddie smiles slightly, reaching up to cradle the side of your face tenderly. He can see the subtle pout on your face, bottom lip poking out slightly—and he feels the overwhelming want to kiss you, force it off of your face. So, he does.
And he kisses with a forcefulness you’ve never felt—he’s not timid or unsure. Eddie’s confident, given his experience, he had no reason to doubt himself. You whimpering softly, his teeth pulling your bottom lip in, tongue sneaking its way in and tasting the saltiness of himself on you. He pulls away briefly, nose bumping yours.
“One problem, sweetheart,” Eddie starts regretfully, “I don’t have any condoms—I’m not really used to using them anymore.”
You shake your head fervently, “That’s not a problem.” You assure him, “Trust me.”
You didn’t need to explain and Eddie didn’t feel the need to ask—it wasn’t hard to piece the information together. But god, he’s never been more thankful for modern medicine.
“You sure?” Eddie asks again, lips grazing yours as he speaks, chin resting against his fingers, rubbing delicately at your skin. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Eddie,” You chide softly, “I want you to fuck me.”
He laughs at that, your boldness startling him slightly.
And he doesn’t need to be told more than once, taking control of the situation as he lifts your hips, bracing you over the head of his cock, allowing you to ease down at your own pace. It’s nothing like you were expecting, more of a dull sting if anything—but the filling of fullness, it’s overwhelming.
You rock your hips gently, watching as Eddie’s eyes fell to the place where you were joined with him, dress lifted up slightly as he reached for your clit, rubbing gentle circles to distract your wandering mind—and it works perfectly, gasping when you feel him deep, buried inside you as the back of your thighs hit his lap.
“God, you’re fucking perfect.” He comments idly, eyes falling shut as he leaned back—and it’s infuriating that you can’t see his chest, hidden behind the buttons of his shirt; a ridiculous black button up, making him look well beyond his years. You yank at the buttons with steady hands until the skin peeks through and you can shove the shirt off his shoulders, hands placed firmly against his chest.
You’ve never seen his tattoos this close, not that you could focus much now, but your hand closes over the one of his chest and your blunt fingertips dig into the skin as you lift your hips and seat yourself just as swiftly, punching a ragged groan from the both of you.
“Knew you’d be this good,” Eddie admits, “Thought—thought about it every fucking night.”
“Oh?” You challenge softly, “Tell me?”
Eddie nods, though the struggle to remain cool is evident on his face, losing his focus every time you clench around him, grunting with every little movement you make.
“Just like this,” He admits, “taking me so fucking well, too.”
You nod in agreement, humming as you leaned forward to drag your lips along his jawline, “Like…I was made for you?” You ask teasingly, giggling at his airy groan.
“You’re fucking devious,” Eddie retorts, “not nearly as innocent as I thought you’d be.”
His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you impossibly deeper, closer, and you can’t bother to keep yourself upright, letting him do the work, hips snapping into you with force.
“What—what do you mean?” You stammer through broken gasps, “I’m so innocent, Eddie.”
“Not a chance,” Eddie disagrees, eyes squeezing tight as he buried his face into your neck, sucking a faint bruise into the skin, “be honest with me.”
“I wasn’t—wasn’t lying.” You respond, words dying out on a desperate plea, his hand snaking between you both, rubbing insistent circles over your clit. “I don’t do this stuff—was waiting for the right person, you know?”
Eddie nearly comes then, panting desperately into your skin.
“You think I’m the right person?” Eddie asks redundantly, given your current situation—that was pretty goddamn obvious.
“Your cock is inside me, what do you think?” You ask playfully, eyebrows furrowing in anguish as Eddie makes a quick pass over your swollen bundle of nerves, driving you over the edge unexpectedly, clinging to Eddie out of instinct, letting him rock you through the duration of your orgasms until he’s coming deep inside you, legs shaking as he groans pitifully.
And despite his obvious exhaustion, he retorts a snarky, “I think I’m the perfect person, sweetheart.”
You smile, leaning forward to press a sloppy, passionately filled kiss against his lips, nodding slightly at his response.
“Same time next week?” You ask cheekily and Eddie chuckles in response, biting gently at your shoulder at your obvious playfulness.
Eddie hums thoughtfully, “How about tomorrow?”
And even if you had plans, they diminished into thin air, offering Eddie an affirmative smile.
Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡
#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson blurb#my writing#1kfic
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🪴 the signs as mitski lyrics 🍃🌱
aries: ‘i am a forest fire, and i am the fire and i am the forest and i am a witness watching it’ / ‘and i’ll go to work and i’ll go to sleep, and i’ll love the littler things’ – a burning hill
taurus: ‘at night on the rooftop i untie my hair, and watch from my plastic chair as my dark hair unleashes the night / the scent of flowers still in bloom from morning shower, and i say your name in hopes you’ll hear it in the stars’ – carry me out
gemini: ‘i will go jogging routinely, calmly and rhythmically run, and when i find that a knife’s sticking out of my side, i’ll pull it out without questioning why’ – fireworks
cancer: ‘i don’t know what to do without you, i don’t know where to put my hands / i’ve been trying to lay my head down, but i’m writing this at 3 a.m. / ‘i look up at the gaps of sunlight, i miss you more than anything’ – francis forever
leo: ‘i will wash your hair at night, and dry it off with care, i will see your body bare, and still i will live here’ / and while you sleep, i’ll be scared, so by the time you awake, i’ll be brave’ – i will
virgo: ‘your room was square, i once noticed from there, in your bed, as you slept, and i held my breath / everything had it’s own place, and i wondered what space would i take in the order you kept’ – square
libra: ‘if you need to be mean, be mean to me, i can take it and put it inside of me / if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room, you can lean on my arm as you break my heart’ – i don’t smoke
scorpio: ‘i broke our belongings, they’re all on the floor, the room is now empty, nothing left to throw’ / ‘i broke what you gave me, but you kept giving more, and i’m sorry for taking, but i keep wanting more, more, more’ – humpty
sagittarius: ‘and i was so young when i behaved 25, yet now, i find i’ve grown into a tall child’ / ‘and i don’t wanna go home, let me walk to the top of the big night sky / please hurry, leave me, i can’t breathe, please don’t say you love me’ – first love/late spring
capricorn: ‘i’m all used up, pretty boy, over and over again, my nail colors are wearing off / see my hands, pretty boy, what do they tell you? ‘cause i’ve looked down on them not knowing why’ / ‘i can take a little bit more, let’s shake this poet out of the beast’ – bag of bones
aquarius: ‘oh hunter, if you didn’t want the beautiful so badly, perhaps you would have found it in your spirit singing softly / but hunter you were human, don’t forget it’ – pearl diver
pisces: ‘i cry at the start of every movie, i guess ‘cause i wish i was making things too’ / ‘i always knew the world moved on, i just didn’t know it would go without me’ – working for the knife
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Hi so I would like very much to request a platonic fic for Alastor with an early teen reader, but hear me out on this pls
The reader is a demon that has (much like Alastor) similar trates to an animal even though they don't look that much anthromorphic, and the reader's form is a 'sea wasp jellyfish' because even though the reader just recently died she is hella powerfull and has the power to take down almost any infernal being if she wanted.
+bonus points ; if the reader is an arson and chaotic teenager!
omgg. a hazbin hotel ask after like... idk how long. I AM SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS
☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰
— a dance of chaos and charm
alastor x early teen! reader (platonic)
in the twisted depths of hell, a bustling realm of sin and debauchery, an unlikely encounter was about to take place. alastor, the dapper and enigmatic sinner demon, found himself intrigued by your arrival. with a form resembling that of a sea wasp jellyfish, you emanated a raw power that sent shivers through the hearts of even the most hardened infernal beings.
one fateful evening, as the crimson skies bathed hell in their eerie glow, alastor spotted you causing chaos in the streets of pentagram city. your mischievous smile and fiery eyes gleamed with a fervor for destruction.
alastor, his beige-colored skin contrasting against his vibrant red attire, caught sight of your devilish display. his transatlantic accent carried a hint of curiosity as he approached you, his gaze intense. "well, well, what have we here? a tempestuous spirit with the power to unsettle even the most hardened souls. what mischief do you seek, young demon?"
you twirled playfully, tendrils swirling with delight. "oh, i'm just here to cause a little chaos, make things interesting. this place's a playground, isn't it? care to join me, mr. radio man?"
alastor's smile was laced with caution, his eyes narrowed. "be warned, child, my patience for youthful antics is limited. but perhaps a little company amidst the place wouldn't hurt."
with a gesture, alastor conjured a vibrant spectacle of swirling flames, casting an ethereal glow over the streets. he extended a gloved hand, an invitation to join him in the dance of chaos. "let us weave a tapestry of mischief together, but mind you, i won't take responsibility for any accidents that may befall you."
your translucent form shimmered with excitement as you accepted his invitation, tendrils interweaving with his outstretched hand. "no worries, alastor! let's set this city ablaze and watch it burn. just don't try to boss me around, okay?"
and so, an unlikely bond formed amidst the crackling flames. as you reveled in the intoxicating dance of destruction, alastor couldn't help but be captivated by your wild spirit and raw power. the discordant symphony of laughter and chaos echoed through the hellish streets, creating an aesthetic spectacle like no other.
between bouts of mayhem, alastor observed your unrestrained energy, a mixture of admiration and caution in his gaze. "tell me, young demon, what drives your insatiable thirst for chaos? is it the thrill, the liberation, or something deeper?"
you bobbed and weaved, tendrils pulsating with a playful rhythm. "oh, alastor, it's all about freedom! breaking the rules, defying expectations, and watching everything crumble under the weight of our mischief. it's fun, like riding the wildest rollercoaster in hell!"
alastor chuckled, his radio-like voice permeating the air. "a devilish ride, indeed. but remember, child, power lies not only in destruction but in the art of control. chaos is a double-edged sword. use it wisely."
while the streets of pentagram city teemed with demonic life, you lived a solitary existence, preferring the freedom of the streets rather than the confines of a conventional dwelling. you had chosen to live alone, reveling in the chaos that surrounded you, free to roam wherever your wild whims led you.
alastor, with his impeccable attire and penchant for structure, couldn't fathom your desire for such independence. yet, he respected your choice and would drop in unannounced, like a fleeting shadow in the night, to share moments of mischief and conversation.
one moonlit evening, as the city streets lay empty, you perched atop a crumbling building, your gelatinous form pulsating with an otherworldly glow. the flames danced in your tendrils, reflecting the mischievous spark in your eyes. it was during these quiet moments that you contemplated your unconventional existence.
alastor materialized beside you, his presence subtle yet commanding. "why, my young friend, do you choose to roam these streets alone? surely there are safer and more comfortable places for a demon such as yourself."
you turned to face him, tendrils swaying lazily in the night breeze. "safety and comfort aren't part of my vocabulary, alastor. i thrive in the chaos, the unpredictability of the streets. it's where i find my freedom and inspiration."
alastor's smile was tinged with concern, his voice gentle. "but the dangers, my dear. there are other demons lurking in the shadows, waiting to exploit your vulnerabilities."
you chuckled, the sound a whimsical melody amidst the darkness. "oh, i can handle myself, alastor. don't you worry about me. besides, it's not like i'm defenseless. remember, i have the power to take down almost any infernal being if I wanted to."
alastor's brows furrowed slightly, a mixture of awe and caution in his eyes. "a formidable power, indeed. but remember, strength alone won't shield you from the perils that lie in wait. the world can be a treacherous place, especially for those who wander alone."
your gelatinous form bobbed with an air of nonchalance. "i appreciate your concern, mr. radio man, but i'm not one to shy away from a little danger. besides, having you drop by every now and then adds a touch of excitement to my chaotic existence."
alastor's smile grew, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "ah, the thrill of the unexpected. i must admit, your presence adds a certain spark to the dreary routine of my own existence. who am i to deny you the exhilaration of the streets?"
your gelatinous body shimmered with vibrant colors, undulating with a grace that defied the hellish world. the contrast between your whimsical form and alastor's dapper elegance made your companionship all the more striking.
alastor, ever the observant demon, marveled at your extraordinary presence. "truly, my dear, you possess an allure that bewitches the eyes. your form... untamed chaos, leaves me enthralled."
you giggled, tendrils swirling with mischievous delight. "it's true, isn't it? we might look weird, but it makes us look cool! who needs acceptance when you can be a mesmerizing thing?"
alastor chuckled, his radio-like voice resonating with warmth. "indeed, my young friend."
in a place where conformity reigned, your presence served as a reminder that beauty, friendship, and chaos could coexist in perfect harmony. as your bond deepened, the streets of pentagram city became not only your playground but also a stage upon which your vibrant personalities and extraordinary forms could shine.
#alastor#y/n#reader insert#x reader#hazbin#hazbin hotel#silly things#female reader#alastor x reader#teen reader#platonic#the sillies#ask#request#this was fun
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Ugh tumblr is not cooperating with my readmores and art. Oh well we can do it this way. AU masterpost
Say hello to Shackle and Nothing, dark Wind and dark Time :D more art and long descriptions beneath the cut!
Shackle
Shackle is dark Wind.
To me, one of Wind’s core themes is freedom. He goes wherever he wants on his boat (and has fun), he frees a couple girls from the Helmaroc King, and when I think of him, I think of wild blue skies and an endless horizon. He loves life and is one of the most determined heroes.
Shackle, on the other hand, is a bit of a control freak. He doesn't mind not being in charge all the time (he does mind, but he doesn't like to be challenged, and knows that he'd lose any fight for the top place, so he pretends to not care) but he does mind when things don't go his way. If someone or something is annoying him or not listening to him, he will readily use one of the many chains he carries to threaten or restrain. He likes being in control of others, and he likes when people are afraid of him. He keeps fairies nearby, not so much in case of healing, but because he can shake their bottles and listen to them chime in fear.
Shackle is a rather skilled manipulator, and one of the few Darks that look pretty much human, so he's often the one to head excursions into town (Prince is more of a charismatic diplomat, but his powers don't work on whole crowds at a time.) Because of his strength and chains, he's often the one to be on Dire duty, something he doesn’t mind much. Shackle is also very fond of money and luxury. He’ll pinch rupees on anything that doesn't have to do with him, like someone else’s supplies, but he's happy to splurge on himself.
He doesn't have any mystical powers, but he does have enchanted chains that grow and shrink according to his needs. He eats food like any mortal. He's as young as Wind is but is more often successful at bluffing his way into bars and the like. He “jokes” often about earning a couple rupees from selling one of the others—usually Lost or Madness, or Nothing if he's being annoying (a normal occurrence.) Shackle’s ambition is to break free of the others and start a true pirate empire, and the way he wants to do that is by starting a slave trade. That way he can indulge his loves of intimidation and money at the same time.
In terms of design: Shackle is pale to Wind’s tan, a bit beefy to Wind’s young lankiness. He wears red instead of blue, leaning into the pirate aesthetic with sashes and belts and leather and eyeliner. He got a chain tattoo because he thought it was cool. He fears losing everything he has, and some of what he doesn't have.
The only thing that Shackle and Wind would agree on is that Aryll must be protected and lavished with gifts at every opportunity (even though Shackle hasn’t technically met her, yet.) He'd treat her like a princess—as long as she agreed with him about what a princess should be. He isn't a very good listener.
Nothing
Nothing is dark Time. He appears as a petulant child: sharp and angular and half-dead. He takes all of Time’s gremlin tendencies and turns them into cruel pranks and mean-spirited insults. Time is a leader, and Nothing intentionally holds the group back if he can get away with it. Nothing is resentful: he remembers fighting Time, though he, like Agony, is different now—he can think more clearly and has a purpose beyond just being something's guardian.
Nothing gets along best with Madness. He hates being given orders and actively goes the other way unless it was his idea. The group at large only barely puts up with him, but they keep him around for a good reason: he's kind of a genius. He knows dungeons, traps, and gimmicks like nobody’s business. He won't ever give advice on one of Depth’s plans if asked, but they've figured out that if they give Nothing an opening to dunk on someone and hurt one of the Heroes, he'll jump into it and put that genius to work. He's excellent at predicting what the heroes might do, which makes everything just that much more sinister.
On occasion, Nothing will fall into fugues. During these periods, he appears as an older teenager instead of a child, and he's virtually unresponsive. He'll move if prodded. He’ll fight—and fight very well—if told to, but he won't speak, the embodiment of his name. Pretty much everyone finds the contrast rather creepy. These periods don't last long, and soon enough, Nothing is back to his bratty younger self.
Most of all, Nothing wants everything Time has, but if given the option, he wouldn't take Time’s place. He innocently wishes he could be a hero, but he knows he can't be, so he's going to go as far the other direction as possible. He wants to build his own life. But the people around him wouldn't ever let that happen, so Nothing is bitter and lashes out, without any reason not to.
Nothing is designed very much after the Dark Link in Ocarina of Time’s Water Temple, with a few significant tweaks. He is based on young Link instead of the older one, and he is also covered in signs of decay. There are faint red and purple lines like veins on his skin, like corpses that began to decompose underwater, and his tunic and hat show signs of the same. When he appears as a teenager, the decay is even worse. His sword is patterned after the Master Sword, but is just a normal, nonmagical thing.
Nothing is the Hero of Nothing, a sad admittance of his own emptiness and a jab at Time’s forgotten timelines. He wouldn't even know how to seize the opportunity to be a hero of something if it showed up in front of him.
#my art#linked universe#lu z darks au#this is so. cringe.#but whatever#we'll be back to scifi times when i finish these
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𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝘂𝘁 !
Yandere sunshine prince x emotionles/stoic General Knight reader ?
☕🌿 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻
"Hehehe, you found me, Y/n!"
The young prince dangles from the arm of a tree, having pop out from within its leaves as you called his name. He smiles down at you, before swinging his upper body into an upright position. Instead of climbing back down, he jumps out of the tree, stumbling for balance. It's obvious that he hurt himself on the landing, leaning onto the tree with his right foot propped against it.
"Shall we play another round somewhere else?"
This man, the crown prince of your kingdom was also it's pride and joy. A kindhearted, bubbly individual who brightened the day of anyone he met; earning him the nickname of Sunny. To you, however, he was nothing more than another of many tasks your king had piled on you.
A general, taught to use a blade shortly after you learned how to walk. Through your years as a solider, you lead your comrades into victory when the true leader had fallen. A true warrior, made second head of the kingdom's guard despite your young age. With your undying loyalty, the king gave you his most important role - being a babysitter for his child.
"No. We need to head back to the castle. Your father is looking for you."
The prince pouts. "Ah, you're always so dull, Y/n. We can see papa later, just hang out with me for a bit."
You remain stoic, refusing to let your guard down in the loom of danger. "We're leaving now. You can't be outside when there's trouble."
You grip his arm, a flush breaking over his face that you fail to notice. He leans into your grasp, wincing as he stands on his bad foot.
"Alright, fine... Can you hold me though?"
You grunt in response, pulling his arm over your shoulder and your hand around his waist. He hooks his other arm around your neck, his hair tickling your cheek as he nuzzles your skin - taking in your scent. How he longed to kiss the scars that littered your body. Without acknowledge any part of the scenario, you begin to walk.
Heading back to the castle, the prince sneaks glances at you as you stare straight ahead; practically steaming from how close he was to you. You always had his fancy. From when he watched you train when you were both young, to whenever you returned from another battle. He had made his feelings known in the past, but you hardly gave him any response. He was so glad he managed to convince his father to put you in charge of him.
Upon your arrival, you hand him off to the nearest guard - must to his disappointment.
"Take him to a medic. He hurt himself getting out of a tree. I still need to meet with the king to discuss the disappearances."
Suddenly, as if his mind had been turned on for the first time today, the prince remembers something, or rather-something he forgot.
"Oh no, I left my crown in the tree."
You blink, annoyance an emotion you rarely felt, despite the looks on your fellow soldiers faces. "I'll get it."
The prince tries to wiggle from their grasp. "I'll go with you.
"You're injured and I have other things to take care of. We'll talk later."
You leave, paying no mind the prince's protest. It was risky to go outside alone at the time, but business had to be taken care of. Recently, there had been a string of disappearances in the kingdom, most if not all having something to do with the castle. A kitchen hand, fellow solider, and now even your captain.
He was a pain on the field, likely due to your age, but fine anywhere else. He managed to pull you out on trips to the bar, trying to bring out the spirit in you. Unfortunately for him and your peers, you were as reserved in your personal life as you were at work. But that didn't stop him from trying.
"You need to live a little, Y/n. No point in fighting, if you have nothing to come home to."
You look inside the tree's trunk, finding the prince's crown like he had claimed. A little scuffed from his carelessness, but nothing a polish couldn’t fix. As you wipe it with your sleeve, you notice something as your feet shift in the ground. A patch of freshly dug up dirt, replanted in a small mound.
Curious, you kick at the dirt with your foot. It knocks some of it away, but not enough for you to see. Kneeling, you dig with your hands to unearth whatever lie beneath. Soil clogged in your nails, you find an item wrapped in an old sack and rope. You unwrap it, face paling at your discovery.
It was a dagger. Handle dipped in gold and engraved with your kingdom's symbol. Most of it had been wiped away, but specks of blood tainted the blade, splattered onto every inch likely from the force of each stab.
You quickly recover and plant the knife where you found it, unsure as on what to do. It couldn't belong to your prince. It was a solider issued weapon, and the fool was far too gentle to cause anyone harm. Was it an assassin from another kingdom? A solider who had gone rouge?
You hurry back to the castle to insure everyone's safety.
Little did you remember, you had given the prince your first weapon as a gift for his tenth birthday.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere scenarios#yandere oc#yandere imagines#male yandere#yandere insert#yandere x you#yandere prince#yandere story#☕🌿 anon
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Respect Her Journey
I want to talk about this piece of art that Horikoshi drew that probably has bkdks hissing and screeching at the sight of, and izuochas fist-pumping and going yeaaah! my ship is endgame!
Nono, don't be afraid, look at it! It'll be okay I promise.
It's beautiful, I hate it, you might say, as a bkdk.
Anyway, this was the tweet I lifted this art from.
Oh yes, pay attention to them falling! Some people might take this to mean falling in love, or whatever. I cannot comment on what Horikoshi meant by this statement, because he has proven to be a cryptic little nuisance of a troll. I will however, examine his inspiration for this piece and tell you why this is not him saying that Izuocha is endgame.
Um, incoming spoilers for Spirited Away if that wasn't obvious. If you've not watched it, I implore you to do so yesterday. It's a one of the greatest movies of all time.
Spirited Away: a story about Chihiro, a timid girl who ventures into the spirit world for the sake of her parents. (Wait? What? Sound familiar?) There's more.
In order to redeem her parents, she starts working in an environment that showcases all the worst parts of capitalist society
She befriends a boy named Haku, who she goes on adventures with
She meets No Face, a child-like spirit who lacks love and eats people while taking on their characteristics
She gives Haku back his name and breaks his curse with the power of love
She saves her parents and returns to the normal world having grown from her adventure and faces the future with confidence
Can we please appreciate the parallels between these two stories?
Bathhouse -> Hero Society: The overseer takes Chihiro's name, who becomes Sen. Just like Ochaco becomes Uravity. The public no longer sees her as a child. She is now a hero and they are free to expect things from her, like to fight in a war on their behalf. Urakaka is now fighting against her own bathhouse.
Haku -> Deku: Chihiro gives Haku his name back, just like Ochaco gives Deku a new meaning to his name, breaking the curse that Deku means "useless". Ochaco draws strength from at first, but she has since come to realize he is not invincible and that he himself needs saving.
No-Face -> Toga Himiko: Chihiro fascinates No-Face. Just like Toga Himiko the unloved girl, is fascinated with Ochaco for her goodness and being everything that she longs to be. Urakaka's character arc is tied up with Himiko and her struggle to save her smile.
There's probably more to unpack here, but these are the few that stood out to me right away. I'm lazy.
Now that we've established that Ochaco is Chihiro and Deku is Haku, remember that this falling scene in the movie is the climax. This is where Chihiro recognizes Haku for who he is and gives him back his identity. It is both a hello and a goodbye.
OOoooh! But Haku and Chihiro are in love! a certain braindead subset might retort--just no. I shouldn't have to mention how problematic it is to ship a ten year old with anybody, or that Chihiro is based on a real ten year old girl that Miyazaki knew--there is plenty of evidence to suggest that Haku is Chihiro's dead older brother, but I won't get into that. Look it up if it interests you. In short, it's platonic. PLATONIC.
Anyway, though Chihiro and Haku have benefitted from their friendship, ultimately they are headed in different directions.
Just like Ochaco and Deku are headed in different directions.
So please, please, don't hate this art. It's beautiful. Just like Ochaco is a beautiful character who has worked hard to be who she is. Stop trying to pigeonhole her as the love interest. It's insulting and she's fought that role kicking and screaming.
I also leave this with you. It is an excerpt from an interview with Miyazaki on his movie Spirited Away:
I felt this country only offered such things as crushes and romance to 10-year-old girls, though, and looking at my young friends, I felt this was not what they held dear in their hearts, not what they wanted. And so I wondered if I could make a movie in which they could be heroines...
I'm not saying that Horikoshi is absolutely taking Miyazaki's intentions as his own, but it's something.
#bkdk#bakudeku#dkbk#dekubaku#bkdk is canon#bkdk meta#mha meta#bnha meta#mha#bnha#uraraka ochaco#midoriya izuku#spirited away
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𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗦𝗠𝗢𝗞𝗘
Im back, they couldnt keep me locked away for long <3
….should I make it into another series? Or…
The water cascaded down your back, and you let out a light sigh at the sensation. It was a long mission
When you arrived at the abandoned hospital earlier, you were expecting one singular first grade, and possibly people to save. Yet, you were forced to fight with two special grades.
You figured they either forgot to mention it in the report you had gotten, or whatever money for brains idiot didn’t sense it.
Possibly the latter.
Swiftly exorcising both curses, you wiped the sweat from your forehead. It caused a little trouble, but nothing you couldn’t get rid of.
Which, was the initial thought before hearing noises. Was that sniffling? Perhaps you missed a lower cursed spirit under all the racket made.
The remaining sparks of cursed energy was a little odd you have to admit, but usually a lot of cursed energy in one spot leaves residues at times.
Footsteps from your combat boots echoed within the hallways before a pair of black combat boots stopped in front of one specific door.
The sign next to the room read out ‘Room 63’
The closer you were, the more audible the supposed crying really was. Hesitantly, but ready for anything you placed a hand on the door and turned the knob.
The possibilities were endless as your eyes fell upon the dark canvas of the room. Just as you entered, the crying had withered down into pathetic sniffling once again and a small figure in the corner was moving. It wasn’t that dark after all.
You approached the small figure, realizing this couldn’t possibly be a cursed spirit. “Hello?”
Your voice echoed within the room. And the figure perked up. Oh, its probably a child?
“I don’t mean any harm, Promise!” You took another cautionary step to test if the child was willing to let you closer. They let you closer without flinching at least, good.
The child let out a broken hum of affirmation in response before you crouched down eye to eye.
As if it was a scenic moment, the moon shined in from the open window that allowed in light.
You observed the young child with interest.
His hair was black and short, but a bit long for someone of his age at the same time. Looked around the age of 7 or 10, with matching amber eyes.
He inched closer to the corner with a downcast expression, avoiding and breaking eye contact immediately.
You softened at this. He looked so fragile for a young boy his age.
“Hey..whats your name?”
He looked at the other side of the room before turning back to you, “I’m..Suguru” he mumbled out.
“Suguru” you tested his name on your tongue before giving a faint, small smile. You reached your hand out and placed a hand on his small head before ruffling up his hair a bit.
“Ill take care of you”
#{-muxis writes#x reader#x y/n#headcanons#headcanon#oneshots#jjk x reader#suguru geto x reader fluff#child suguru geto#older reader#suguru geto jjk#suguru geto#suguru geto x reader#jjk headcanons#jjk series#??? i think#geto x reader#suguru geto x you
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"It takes Shadowpeach literal years of living and raising a child together before they realise that they've fallen back in love" of course. Could you give more details? Like what was the time it takes between that happening and them realizing? Who fell first? How long after that until they actually do something about it or do they still avoid the subject to canon time
OK SO
Basically, at the start of the story the Shadowpeach is on a bit of a hiatus cus of the whole... Macaque being killed thing.
Macaque is understandably very upset with Wukong. Like, if Wukong hadnt shown up with MK's egg, Macaque could have darn near killed him. But he's able to put his anger aside for the sake of the unborn Stone Monkey.
Wukong this whole time has had deep festering love for Macaque, but resigned himself to grief in the centuries following his death. The joy he feels upon his resurrection is clouded by the fear of losing him again. So much so he fears reigniting their flame.
Cue them coming across Pigsy. The pig demon assumes from the shabby clothes, the arguing, and the bump under Macaque's clothes (actually MK's egg in a harness); that the two are young, soon-to-be parents needing shelter. Wukong hams the misunderstanding up, and Macaque is too furious with him to clear the air.
Basically they move into the apartment pretending to be a couple. And soon after a while, the pretending starts getting harder and harder to differentiate from the real domestic love they shared back on Flower Fruit Mountain.
Its around the time of MK's first birthday when they begin to suspect the other of falling back in love. It almost takes another birthday for Macaque to accept that Wukong is geniunely trying to mend things between them, but scars run deep.
When MK turns 3, a random demon gets a drop on the fam - I'm leaning towards a variatn of the annoying Demon of Confusion from the very beginning of Wukong's tale. The demon assumes MK and Macaque are just really powerful monkey spirits and whisks them away to be his servants. Cue the whole noodle fam, especially Wukong going ballistic. In the ensuing rescue, Macaque is... conflicted.
Here's a rough draft:
Macaque: "You didn't have to save me, you know?"
SW: "Why wouldn't I? I couldn't just leave you with that jerk."
Macaque: "Because I had your living vanity trophy on my back?"
Toddler!MK, in a sling: *babbling*
SW: "I... I know that you could have escaped. Fought your way out on your own without breaking a sweat... But when I learned that Demon *took* you away, I just... I just..."
Macaque: "Just what?"
SW: "I just... thought of how many of MK's birthday's you'd miss. How many dinners at Pigsy's uneaten. How many nights alone in bed... I lasted over 500 years. But now... I don't think I could have survived another day without you."
Macaque, realizing: "Oh..."
Pigsy, Tang & Sandy: *wondering if they should leave the lovebirds alone*
After that incident, they slowly build back up their relationship. Baby steps, just to confirm the bonds hold firm.
It would take them a few months to spit out an "I love you". The first one to break being Wukong - watching Macaque doing a shadow puppet show for MK with a goofy look on his face. He says it without warning, thinking it was just in his head until Macaque froze. It took Macaque a week to respond with "The feeling is mutual I suppose" while lying in bed.
They do hit snags later down the line. Notably SW briefly regressing back to a "find means of immortality for mate and baby"-phase the first time MK got seriously injured. And in turn Macaque hiding how much he was hurt by his death, and hiding who resurrected him + the price he has to pay for it. This also not including Sun Wukong disobeying his order from the Celestial Realm to "scramble" MK.
Until the events of "A Hero Is Born", Monkey King is pretty much assumed perma-retired after the New Stone Egg incident, while the Six Eared Macaque is presumed dead. Then the Demon Bull Family indirectly drag them back into the spotlight.
They are both emotionally constipated, your honor. I sentence them to 18 years of hard parenting and couple's counseling.
#the monkey king and the infant#the monkey king and the infant au#lmk#shadowpeach#lego monkie kid#shipping#my aus#sun wukong#liu er mihou#six eared macaque#answered asks#ty so much for sending this ask I really wanted to ramble more#shadowpeach being parents
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Harry Potter Characters + Lana Del Rey Songs That I Think Fit Them And Why:
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Harry Potter: Born To Die
Born To Die reminds me of Harry because of his ambitious and adventurous spirit. The lyrics say "Oh, my heart it breaks every step that I take. But I'm hoping at the gates, they'll tell me that youre mine." Which makes me think of him feeling like even though living his life is hard, he hopes that when he dies he'll finally see his family. Due to being an orphan, he doesn't necessarily have "a family" other than his friends. He lives everyday like it's his last. And, forgive me for saying this, but technically, he was actually born to die. He was a part of Voldemort, and should have died with him. I feel like this song not only is a perfect example of his personality, but his actual life.
Ron Weasley: The Grants
Honestly, I can't think of a better song for Ron besides this one. Being in a huge family, it's hard to feel loved, since it's all divided amongst a bunch of people (this is shown as something Ron struggles with in the books.) However, Ron is LITERALLY the biggest family lover ever. He cares so deeply about Ginny, looks up to his brothers, and he loves all his friends around him. This song talks about how when Lana (Elizabeth Grant) dies, she wants to take the memories of her sister's first born child, her grandmother's last smile, all of the amazing memories she's had with family with her. This is EXACTLY how I imagine Ron would be. This song is just perfect for him.
Hermione Granger: Old Money
This song is all about love. "If you send for me you know I'll come. And if you call for me you know I'll run." This reminds me so much of Hermione because she is SUCH a loyal and devoted friend. She is a badass who is not afraid to speak her mind. This is the only Lana song that I could find that truly defines her loyalty to her friends. She is an amazing friend and will stop at nothing to help them.
Fred Weasley/George Weasley: Lust For Life
I feel like this is self-explanitory. Lust For Life fits them so well. "They say only the good die young, that just ain't right. Cuz were having too much fun, too much fun tonight. Got a Lust For Life." They LITERALLY have a lust for life! They have fun everyday, not a care in the world. They focus on the present instead of worrying about the future. They crave life! They want to live it to the fullest! This suits them so well.
Luna Lovegood: Chemtrails Over the Country Club
This is just her. It's so her. "Normality settles down over me. I'm not bored or unhappy. I'm still so strange and wild." THAT IS LITERALLY HER GUYS LIKE COME ON?!? Idk, this song has a such a calm and loving vibe to it and it really reminds me of her. It's perfect for her. 110%.
Draco Malfoy: Honeymoon
GUYS OMG GUYS I WAS TRYING TO FIND A SONG THAT FIT HIM BUT OMG OMG THIS ONE IS LITERALLY PERFECT WHAT THE HELL OK LISTEN TO THIS... "We both know, the history of violence that surrounds you. But I'm not scared. Theres nothing to lose now that I've found you." OMG RIGHT?!? OK BUT THAT'S NOT ALL, LISTEN TO THIS... "Mr. Born to lose" WHAT OMG OK OK ONE MORE "We both know that its not fashionable to love me.." GUYS WHAT THE FUCK THIS SONG IS SO DRACO CODED!!! I don't think it needs explaining but, basically, the violence that surrounds Draco is so accurate, it's not fashionable to love him cuz he became a death eater and he's hated by a lot of people, and he's Mr. Born to lose because he has a shitty ass life fr. Guys, this song is literally him.
Neville Longbottom: Sweet
No explanation needed. This song is so loving and genuine and it reminds me of him because he's so kind and he is the sweetest person ever.
Remus Lupin: Gods and Monsters
I honestly don't have a genuine explanation for this, I just think it fits him. "I don't really want what's good for me." Idk, I think it fits him very well. Either this or "Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost" cuz of how understanding and uplifting that song is. It's hard to explain but I feel like those two songs fit him best. Hes so mysterious and sophisticated it's so hot pls help 😍
Sirius Black: Young and Beautiful
"Dear Lord 🙏 when I get to heaven 😇 please let me bring my man 🧍♂" 😍 AMEN LANA! bro, this song is so him. No fucking explanation. Next.
Dadd- Severus Snape: The album Honeymoon
This whole ass album is really good for him. It is so mysterious and soothing, just like him. The songs have a dark undertone, just like him. And the lyrics from Salvatore "Dying by the hand of a foreign man, happily" like cmon that's awesome. And the lyrics from Honeymoon "Say you want me too, dark blue." Idk, they fit him so well. I feel like Religion is a good song too, so is The Blackest Day. Basically the WHOLE Honeymoon album is HIM. All of the songs are lovely, but have a dark undertone and melancholy feel. It's so ethereal and really reminds me of him. I also think that a lot of the album "Did You Know That Theres a Tunnel Under Ocean Boulevard" is also a good fit for him, but that's a topic for another day. Also, I know that the honeymoon album sounds like it's romantic, but it's actually very sad. This is why I think it matches Snape. Cuz his love life is just...tragic. It just suits him so well.
#writers#harry potter#fanfic writer#severus snape#severus snape x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#writers of tumblr#pro snape#remus lupin#sirius black#hermione granger#ron weasley#draco malfoy#luna lovegood#fred weasley#george weasley#neville longbottom#lana del rey
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Daisy is applying the final touches to Peach's eyeliner when a knock on the door interrupts them. "Come in," they both call, and with one final look-over, Daisy nods in approval and starts putting away her tools while Peach rises to greet their guest.
"So sorry to interrupt," she hears Toadsworth say a half-second before she sees him, the old Toad quietly closing the door behind himself, and her already high spirits soar even higher. "Just thought I'd drop in and check on the bride before the day swings into full gear!"
Peach clasps her hands together, welcoming him in, then twirls so he can get a good look at her attire. The massive skirt of her pale pink dress billows with the movement, the sheer veil fastened to her crown flowing behind her. She's never felt so much like a princess as she does now. Not a ruling princess, a title she's held and known all too well for all too long, required to remain dignified even in the face of hardship and threat; no, she feels like a child's playtime ideal of a princess, wrapped in luxury and cheer with nary a care in the world. "How do I look, Toadsworth?"
Toadsworth chuckles at the display, his eyes creasing as he reaches up to take her hands. "You look beautiful, Your Highness," he says. "You look so much like your mother did on her wedding day! Perhaps even more radiant..."
He opens his mouth again, like there's more he wants to say, but the words stick in his throat. He takes in the sight of her in silence, and within seconds, there's big tears pooling in his eyes. It's not rare to see him cry, as he's a sensitive old soul, yet something about him crying now of all times strikes Peach like a dagger in the gut.
"Oh no," she whispers, already feeling tears of her own brimming at the corners of her eyes.
"Oh no," Daisy groans, because she just finished Peach's makeup.
"Oh," Toadsworth finally cries, "where has the time gone? Just yesterday you were so small I could hold you in my arms!"
"Toadsworth," Peach gasps, and her heart feels so full she's sure it's going to burst. She expected him to fall victim to sentiment. She didn't expect him to start reminiscing about the passage of time. She's entirely unprepared.
"And you would always call me 'grandpa,' you know," Toadsworth continues, tears already streaming down his cheeks and dripping from the tips of his mustache, "except you couldn't actually say 'grandpa' so you called me 'gempuh' instead but I knew what you meant, dear!"
"Toadsworth!" Peach sniffles and falls to her knees to pull him into an embrace. The fabric of her dress threatens to swallow his tiny frame whole, so she holds onto him tightly, and feeling her beloved mentor cry into her shoulder, she begins to cry as well.
She remembers, vaguely, those days when she was young and her birth father was some enigmatic figure shuffling about behind the scenes, while this Toad with a greying mustache tucked her in each night, roused her with promises of fresh pastries each morning, looked after her every need. In those days, she had indeed assumed he was her grandfather; she had a father, after all, however distant he might have been.
But Toadsworth was always more a father to her than her birth father was. He calls her Your Highness and she calls him by his name in pure formality, but even then, it's a formality he breaks regularly. She's just as often "Your Highness" as she is "my dear, my child, my little girl."
What was already supposed to be the happiest day of Peach's life is even happier now, because, hugging him and weeping with him and sharing all of these big emotions, she lets herself think of him as dad, papa, father. She's considered him such for most of her life, subconsciously, but only now has she let those thoughts consciously manifest.
She'd like to call him that out loud someday. Maybe she's not ready just yet, but until the day comes where she can call him her father just as boldly as he calls her his child, they both know.
Daisy turns her back to give them some privacy and huffs, re-gathering the brushes and powders and paints she'd foolishly put away. An artist's work is never done...
#'peaches this is sappy even for you' I certainly hope so~#super mario bros#smb#princess peach#toadsworth#princess daisy#peaches has opinions#peaches' fancy fics
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I'm sorry but funny ideas come to me late at night so I have to send this ask rn or I'll forget about it. so imagined what if the skeleton's adopted child is basically those terrifying children from horror movies
Undertale Sans - It's 3 am and he tries to pretend so hard he's not seeing his child staring at him and S/O sleeping on the doorsteps. That's two hours they're doing this now and Sans thinks he will never be able to sleep again. He is freaking out and desperately try to shake his S/O awake because he swears to Asgore he is terrified.
Undertale Papyrus - "OH, HELLO CHILD. EVEN IF I APPRECIATE YOU NOT WALKING ON THE WET FLOOR, COULD YOU PLEASE NOT WALK ON THE CEILING EITHER?" The child doesn't answer and pass next to him, growling like an animal. Papyrus sighs. Ah, children. Aren't they cute? Undyne and Alphys are frozen in shock in the couch. What the hell.
Underswap Sans - He breaks into the room, pissed of. "TIMMY! STOP MAKING YOUR UNCLE DOG SPIN ON THE CEILING THIS MOMENT!" The child pouts and lets the dog goes back on the floor. The dog runs away in terror to join Honey. Blue starts lecturing his child about doing horrible things in the middle of the day. Please wait the middle of the night when no one can see you!
Underswap Papyrus - He looks up from his book. "what are you holding?" "A chainsaw, I'm going to use it on the neighbour." "oh, ok, have fun." The child leaves the room. Honey freezes for a moment, then jumps out of the couch. "oh shit, no, wait!" He runs after the kid.
Underfell Sans - He was looking himself in a mirror when you jumpscared him out of nowhere by making his reflection attacks him. Red screams bloody murder and crawls out of the bathroom, soul beating so fast it mights explode. That freaking kid. What the hell were you thinking when S/O wanted to adopt them specifically?!
Underfell Papyrus - He's in the middle of the shop. The kid is doing a litteral banshee scream because he said no to buy the last toy he saw on TV. The humans around are all on the floor, ears bleeding while Edge is simply lecturing the child, unaffected. It's not because you scream loud that you will have what you want! He can scream loud as well!
Horrortale Sans - Poor Oak is on the couch, head fills with wiggling worms. Willow is lecturing the child to death. "I KNOW THIS IS TEMPTING BUT YOU CAN'T FILL YOUR DAD HEAD HOLE WITH WORMS BECAUSE YOU WANTED HIM TO STOP HUGGING YOU. LOOK AT THAT MESS! MAKE THEM DISAPPEAR WITH YOUR DEMONIC POWERS THIS MOMENT YOUNG MAN! AND APOLOGIZE!" The kid sighs and obeys.
Horrortale Papyrus - Things are flying everywhere in the house. Willow sighs loudly and turns towards his kid. "WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT INVITING EVIL SPIRITS TO PARTY IN THE HOUSE? YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO ASK ME FIRST. YOU WILL CLEAN THE MESS." The child makes Willow's mouth disappear because they're angry. Willow frowns and lectures the kid with sign language instead.
Swapfell Sans - This is the worst possible timeline. Nox is hiding in his bunker, trembling in terror after his kid found out that sneaking on him and breathing in his neck makes him jump in terror everytime. Nox is having a mental breakdown. He hates this kid. He keeps asking S/O when the orphanage is taking them back. As he's finally calming down, he feels a cold breath on his neck. He screams and turns away, finding his kid upper half has crossed the wall somehow. He bangs on the scelled door to beg S/O for help.
Swapfell Papyrus - You're having dinner, trying to ignore all the animals with redeyes staring at you from every windows of the house, waiting for one of them to get out of the house to kill them. This is fine. Rus doesn't even need to get out ever again anyway. It's no use to say anything to the child, he could just open a window as a revenge.
Fellswap Gold Sans - "WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?" "My friend." "...YOUR FRIEND? WHERE IS HE?" "Right next to you." "... SURE. WHAT DOES HE LOOK LIKE?" His kid gives him a drawing of a very scary clown holding a huge scythe. Oh nice. What the hell. Wine smiles, a bit tense, then says to his kid to not go to sleep to late. He is also locking the door of his room tonight.
Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He was going to the kitchen like every morning to make breakfast but can only find humans organs in the cupboard. Coffee tries to not panick, at least there is coffee. He high pitched screams when he serves himself a cup of coffee and finds a human eye floating in the drink. He begs his kid to stop doing this.
#undertale#underswap#underfell#horrortale#swapfell#fellswap gold#sans#papyrus#undertale ask blog#undertale asks#undertale imagines#undertale headcanons
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Hello! Can I ask headcanons for Male Oyuki (Yuki onna) when he meet darling for the first time and the courting process/wedding? Thanks!
—anonymous
tw / tags: afab reader (no pronoun explicitly used), gendered language (wife, bride, mother, etc.), pregnant reader (mentioned but tagged to be safe), pregnancy (mostly mentioned), general yandere themes, long post, sfwfeatured character(s): oyuki / ice spirit / husband
previous ice spirit installment: link
—note: uhhh right this is super tame, i didn’t really go too deep and hadn't bothered including any ns'fw details. feel free to fill in all the details yourself or ask for more hc's on other aspects. but yeah, i see the o yuki being the type who'd only snap if nothing's going his way, otherwise, he's pretty...decent...ish if you can get past his lies and manipulative ways, and he does dotes on his darling. the horror happens after he gets busted. though, don't get me wrong, he's still a monster and killed many over his time as an immortal spirit. he's really one of those guys you'd have to question the morality of.
》meeting you was an accident.
—it was a quiet day in his mountain, with gentle sprinkles of snow drifting to the blindingly white ground and dusting the skeletal trees.
—as long as his territory was undisturbed, he was content to remain where he was.
—alas his peace hadn't lasted when a scream pierced the chilly air.
—fury swam through his brittle veins.
—he stormed out from his lofty abode, with a flurry of frost following in his wake.
》he halted, his pitch-black eyes resting on the bobbing head breaking the cracked surface of the lake frozen over.
—a child. what foolish child would venture this far from their kind?
—with a quick survey, he caught panicking voices of other children and strayed his eyes across the ground, counting multiple footprints.
—an accident—or perhaps, purposeful? either way, he shook his head from your situation and was about to turn away, to leave you for the dead. leave you to drown and be claimed by the icy depth.
—yet something stalled his feet and his snow quietened at his back.
—was it pity? he’d never know—but years later, he’d be forever grateful to whatever gods who whispered to him to listen to what lingering humanity he had left in his frozen heart.
》you vaguely recalled being in the arms of a beautiful god, a man with skin so white he rivaled the purity of the snow, hair long and flaked with ice, and his eyes so dark it clenched your heart with a primal sense of fear.
—next you woke, you were surrounded by those who loved you the most.
—your father wept, thanking every deity above for your return to the living, and hadn’t released you from his burly arms for what seemed like days since.
—you were so young then, when the world seemed so wide and welcoming.
—shattered by those who wished you harm for the pettiest of reasons.
》the memory of that god never truly faded from your mind, but you passed it off as a fantasy. a child’s whimsies.
—as you became older, reaching the ideal age to be wedded off and have children with your spouse, you drew many eyes and marriage proposals grew steadily on your father’s desk.
—only one had you gasping and burned your skin with embarrassment and joy.
》you caught the ice spirit’s eyes.
—he hadn’t recognized you as that same child he dragged out from that lake, not at first.
—he’d been wandering through his forest, surveying his territory for any threat, when a giggle drew his attention.
—annoyed at having an intruder, he turned the gentle snow into a howling blizzard as he hunted down the source of that voice.
—then, he halted.
—he swore he felt his heart pumping in his chest for the first time in decades—perhaps centuries, when he saw you.
—you jumped from your toppled creation, squealing from the pelting frost, and gave him that brief glimpse of your body. your face. all of you.
》you were beautiful. perfect.
—the perfect being.
—but oh so human. living and breathing.
—warm when he was so cold.
—you were the opposite of everything he was.
—you were like the spring heralding his winter, leaving blooms in your wake.
—…he couldn’t face you like this. not yet.
—quietly, he tailed you since.
》he watched over you
—to learn who you are.
—beloved child to a father who cherishes you dearly.
—doted on by many, your father’s faithful employees included.
—although you were not fond of the cold, you adored the beauty of the winter. adored the soft moments by the fireplace. adored the comfort of warm foods and drinks.
》like that, he was drawn to you.
—desires to have you in his arms.
—and unable to compel the idea of seeing you in the arms of another.
—it angered him and left behind a few too many blizzards in the winter you became of age to be wedded. to find a suitable suitor to have children with.
—he decided he must court you properly.
》it was the following spring he took the courage,
—to mask himself as an ordinary human male.
—a merchant, delivering unusual goods.
—he first met you when you were fanning yourself to keep cool on one overly warm day, under the watchful eye of a servant.
—even though the warm weather was killing him, feeling himself melting inside his expensive clothing, he wormed his way by your side under the blazing sun, and offered you a rare plump peach to drench your thirst. smiling even under the glare of your father’s dutiful servant.
—free of charge because you were beautiful, he claimed.
》it was the first of many encounters, where he’d offer many lovely fruits.
—before long, you fell for him.
—he was handsome, eerily so for an average human, and he was as doting as your father ever was.
—and a massive flirt.
—he was a gentleman, complimenting you endlessly, but would never touch you without your expressed consent.
》though you’d later find out that he hadn’t wanted you to feel how strangely cool he was.
—it never bothered you though, his touches were comforting. gentle. especially during the hot and overly warm weathers.
—and his fruits were delicious.
》when you shared a story from your childhood one day, from when you fell into the lake
—he knew right then you two were meant to be.
—he must have you for himself.
—he must have you as his bride. the mother of his children.
—he arranged a meeting with his father.
—when you first saw the handsome merchant’s proposal on your father’s desk, you happily agreed and your father sighed at the idea of letting you go, burying that inkling that there was something quite wrong about that smiling man deep within his chest.
—you and your father would know the truth behind your future husband’s identity far too late.
》not a man. not a human.
—he was not alive.
—he was but a man whose heart turned to frost, whose skin was made of ice, and who breathed snow.
—a monster, borne from the wrath of a dying man in one hateful winter so long ago.
》it was unfortunate that you found out well after you wedded him and had a child growing within your womb.
#my writing#monster's writing. 👹#headcanon#headcanons#afab reader#reader insert#unedited#yandere#ice spirit#reader x ice spirit#you x ice spirit#ice spirit x you#ice spirit x reader#sfw#long post#tw pregnancy
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Tickle crabs
This fic is inspired by that one Bluey episode “Tickle Crabs.” It was so cutttee I couldn’t help but imagine Donnie with Casey in this. It takes place in the future timeline.
Warnings: None aside from tickling so if that’s not your thing just keep scrolling <3
Summery: Casey wants to play. Unfortunately Donnie got stuck with babysitting him.
Casey Jr was quite the handful. The brothers would usually take turns watching the little kid, but sometimes they had to team up to keep him entertained (and of course to keep him safe). The poor kid however, got stuck with uncle Donnie in his lab.
“I wanna play a game!” Casey Jr whined. Donnie sighed, “I do not have the time Casey.”
Carey pouted. He wished master Leonardo was here. At least he would play with him. He decided to try the only thing he could think of. He climbed onto the scientists lap and made the biggest, and cutest puppy dog eyes that could’ve put Mikey’s to shame.
Donnie looked at his face for a moment before sighing again. “Fine. I suppose a little break couldn’t hurt.” Donnie might have an emotionally unavailable bad boy image, but puppy dog eyes were one of his biggest weaknesses when it came to Casey and Mikey (even Leo on a good day).
Anyway, Donnie swiveled his computer chair towards the young boy. “What do you want to do.” A mischievous glint shone in the child’s eyes. Donnie felt that he was up to something.
Turns out he was right. Casey suddenly pounced onto him and began pinching his fingers at any bit of skin he could reach. Donnie yelped out in surprise. “H-hey!” He got up, pushing the child off him, and tried to run. He was not about to get taken down from tickling by a little kid.
“TICKLE CRAB!!!” The child squealed as he ran after his mutant scientist uncle. Now you might think, why can’t Donnie just tickle him back to fight him? You see once Donnie is taken down, he’s too weak and uncoordinated to fight back. In other terms, he’d become completely helpless. Donnie thought he would be able to out run the little demon that was Casey Jr (no doubt he inherited his mother Cassandra’s spirit).
“NO! No!!! Absolutely not!!! Get back!! Nooo ‘tickle crabs’!!!” Donnie protested as he ran for it. Soon he bumped into Leo. “Oh hey Donton. What happened? Is Casey ok?” He asked with a slight look of concern. “Nardo! Ohmigosh you gotta help me! That demon won’t leave me alone!” Donnie hid behind his twin as Casey Jr caught up.
“Ah, there you are Junior!” Leo greeted his apprentice with a smile. “Are you giving uncle Donnie a hard time?” He asked with a tone of pride. Casey flashed a toothy grin and pinched his fingers like a crab.
A smirk overtook the blue ninjas face as he suddenly understood what was going on. “Awe is he not playing with you? I can help with that!” And before Donnie could say ‘uranium’ Leo whipped around and wrestled his genius twin to the floor. Leo was technically stronger as he trained a lot more, so Donnie could kiss any hope of escape goodbye. Leo had him flat on his shell, and his arms pinned firmly above him, with Leo looking over him from behind.
“N-no!! Waitwaitwaitwait dohohont!!!” Donnie pleaded as Casey came closer. “Already giggling? Dude did you get more ticklish since we were kids?” Leo asked in a lightheartedly teasing tone. “Sh-shuhuhut uhuppp!!! N-NO!!”
Casey climbed on top of his uncles now entirely unprotected torso. Before Donnie could protest anymore Casey began pinching his fingers like a crab against Donnie’s sides. Donnie nearly burst into uncontrollable giggles, but forced himself to hold it in. He was NOT going to surrender to such childish methods. Leo grinned, knowing what his twin was doing.
“Awww don’t hide that laughter from us Donton~” he teased, poking at his side also.
Donnie couldn’t move much as he didn’t want to accidentally hurt Casey, but that didn’t stop him from shifting around wildly and kicking his legs.
He couldn’t believe Leo. Well actually… yes. Yes he could. He was so gonna pay.
Casey began tickling more in other places he could reach, but when he started wiggling his fingers into the mutants ribs, Donnie lost it.
“Gahahaha nohohoho!!!!”
“Wow you hit a pretty good spot!” Leo told his apprentice with a grin.
“Leheheheohohoo mahahahahake hihihim stohohop!!!”
“Huh? But why? Your the one who won’t play with him.” Leo teased.
“LEHEONAHARDO IHI SWHEHEAHAR-”
Leo laughed. “Ahalright alright fine. Casey that’s enough.”
Casey stopped and got off him.
Donnie was about to get up, but Leo quickly went around from above him to straddle the scientists.
“LEO!” Donnie huffed with annoyance as he tried and failed to push his older twin off.
“Nah. It’s my turn now!” And Leo descended his hands on Donnie to drill at his upper ribs. Donnie let out a shriek as he clamped his arms down, bursting into more laughter. He was now thrashing under his twin as he didn’t having Casey on him anymore.
“See Case? This is how you pick apart our dear uncle tello.” Leo told the younger as if he wasn’t absolutely taking apart the poor scientist. Casey watched intently, giggling at the thrashing mutant.
“But! If you really wanna get him…” Leo pinned his arms above his head. “L-LEO!!! Nohoho plehehease!!!”
He knew what that meant.
Leo began digging into his underarms harshly. Donnie burst into violent hysterical cackles, kicking his legs out from behind Leo.
“See? Now this spot is a killer for uncle Tello.” Leo said with a smirk as he took apart his younger twin. Donnie was only making incomprehensible noises which was all he could do through the extreme laughter.
Soon his laughter went silent, and Leo took that as a sign that he couldn’t take any more.
He got off Donnie as the purple loving mutant stayed laying on the floor, trying to catch his breath. “I’m… gohonna… ghet you bahack… soho hahard…” He threatened.
“Ok tough guy.” Leo teased with a smirk as he poked his cheek. Leo then scooped up Casey Jr. “Now you know how to really get him!” He told the kid. “Use the information wisely.”
“LEO!!!” Donnie yelled as he got up to chase after his brother, who just took off with Casey. They really were gonna be the death of him.
#sprite🥤#sfw tickles#sfw tickling community#rottmnt tickling#lee!donatello#lee!donnie#ler!casey#ler!caseyjr#ler!leo#ler!leonardo#disaster twins#rottmnt disaster twins#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt donatello#rise leonardo#casey jr#save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#save rise of the tmnt#save rottmnt#unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#unpause rottmnt#leo and donnie
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