#ler!dyle

This was surprisingly fun to draw

First time drawing T!Dyle and Gourdy 💔💔

BUTT GAHH I LOVE GOURDY HE'S SO BABY AND CUTE POOR GUY WITH HIS PARENTAL ISSUE THINGY

Can you do a fix with Lee y/n and ler Dyle plsss?

⏰ “A Ticklish Matter of Time”

(Ler!Dyle | Lee!Y/N)

Gardenview’s train station was as polished and perfect as always — every gear gleaming, every clock synchronized to the second. Dyle stood by the central control panel, his gold frame reflecting the warm sunlight streaming through the high windows.

You leaned on the railing nearby, watching him adjust the levers and muttering to himself about “schedule discrepancies” and “improper train whistles.”

“You know, Dyle,” you teased lightly, “you’d probably explode if a train was even one minute late.”

Without missing a beat, the pocket watch hummed, “One minute late, dear, is still one minute wrong.”

You grinned. “You’re wound too tight, Timekeeper.”

Dyle glanced at you, brow ticking up like his minute hand. “I prefer ‘disciplined.’”

“Ohhh, sure,” you said, leaning closer, tone playful. “Disciplined. Stiff. Fussy. Totally allergic to fun~”

That got his attention. The hand on his face — that doubled as a mustache — twitched upward, and he set his pocket chain down with exaggerated patience. “Allergic, you say?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, still teasing. “You wouldn’t know fun if it hit you right in the gears.”

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. “My dear, you do realize who you’re speaking to, yes?”

“Oh, I realize.” You smirked, standing a little straighter. “What’re you gonna do about it, Mister Tick-Tock?”

He adjusted his cuffs deliberately, every motion precise. “You have precisely five seconds to retract that statement.”

You blinked, mock-shocked. “Or what, you’ll—?”

“Five.”

“Dyle—”

“Four.”

“…You’re bluffing.”

“Three.”

His tone dropped, half teasing, half too calm.

You took a step back. “Dyle?”

“Two~”

“Dyle, I was kidding—!”

“One.”

He lunged.

“AAAH—DYLE!!” you yelped as he swept you off balance with shocking agility for someone who usually walked like a metronome. His golden fingers (polished and precise as clock hands) found your sides immediately.

“Now then,” he said with mock sternness, his voice rich with amusement, “I think it’s high time you learned some respect for punctuality.”

“THAHAHAHAT DOHOHOESN’T EVEN MAKE SEHEHEHEHNSE!!” you squealed, laughter spilling uncontrollably as Dyle’s tickles turned light and methodical — tracing circles just under your ribs, moving exactly with the rhythm of a ticking clock.

“Tick-tock, tick-tock~” he teased, tapping in time with his own inner rhythm. “Every second you giggle is another reminder that I was right.”

“RIHIHIGHT ABOHOUT WHAHAHAHAT?!”

“That you can’t resist laughing, no matter how composed you try to be~”

You cackled, clutching at his sleeves, but he just chuckled softly. His laughter — warm and melodic — filled the space as much as yours did.

“My, my, you’re rather timid for someone who mocks the keeper of time,” he teased, swirling his chain gently to trace across your neck.

You shrieked. “DYHYHYLE—NOHOHOHO!!”

“Ah, that’s my favorite sound,” he said smugly. “So refreshingly spontaneous.”

“YOHOHOU’RE AHAHA MONSTER—!”

“Correction,” he said with mock pride. “A professional monster.”

He let up finally, straightening his vest as you slumped against the railing, still laughing breathlessly.

Dyle smirked, smoothing his tie. “You see? You do know how to have fun after all.”

You stuck your tongue out. “Nuh-uh… that’s cheating…”

“Is it?” he replied innocently. “You’re smiling. That seems like success to me.”

You giggled softly, brushing your hair from your face. “You’re lucky I like you, clock-face.”

“Oh, I know,” he said with a little grin. “After all, I always make time for my favorites.”

You groaned, laughing again. “Bad pun, Dyle.”

TYSM THAT MEANS A LOT!!!

And sry this looks so ass I'm tired

Ew, Dyle is SMILING?!? GROSS!! /nsrs