#and the cards + chips being the ones he had in his hand during That Game

[doctorsiren]

“Every thought is sabotage

What a fool I am

But how long can we keep playing?

Game after game

No losing game after losing game”

[betteronthebigscreen]

Something sweet | D.W

Girldad!Dean Winchester x Babysitter!Reader

MDNI

Wordcount: 2,704

Warnings: Use of petnames, Biting, Unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), dean being dean, oral (f receiving), DBF!Dean, Age gap (reader is 20, dean is late 30’s), Angst, Hand kink, Creampie, Size kink (if you squint), I think that's it!

A/N: Dean would be such a girl dad you CANNOT change my mind. I'm a Dean girlie so I feel like it's easier for me to write with him opposed to Sam. That being said, I hope you enjoy this. I had a blast working on it.

A/N2: I posted this, no joke 30 minutes later i was in an ambulance 🥴

part two

You had just gotten off of work. Your 9-5 has drained you. Same papers, day after day. If you were honest you could have just skipped dinner, and went to sleep. God knows you need it, but here you are. 

Walking into the grocery store to pick up a few things for a quick dinner. Deciding to roast some chicken, you stopped by the produce to pick up a few odds and ends for your lunch the next few days. While you were scoping out the best cantaloupe to buy, brown pigtails adorned with pink bows came into your vision. The little girl tugged on your blouse, “I think I lost my daddy.” She mutters shyly. Immediately dipping down to a crouch you tried to comfort her, “Well sweetheart what does he look like? Where did you see him last?”. The girl, who couldn't have been more than 6 years old, began to describe her father to her best ability. During the little exchange, her father came from the chip aisle, seemingly anxious. He breathed out in relief when he finally saw her again, “Babygirl where did you run off to?” He picked her up, setting her in the cart. “I wanted strawberries, then you were gone.” She pouted, “Sweetheart we could’ve gotten you strawberries you just have to ask.” he looked up from the girl to you, “Thank you so much, I’m so sorry.” You smiled at the man, “No problem she wasn’t a bother.” looking down to the girl you smiled again. He thanked you again and you both went about your shopping. 

That night in the midst of making dinner, he was all you could think about. You didn't even know his name yet the thought of him consumed you. Dinner was silent that night, the sounds of your fork against the ceramic, too caught up in your thoughts to turn something on. You went to sleep later than normal, since you had opted to make food instead of ordering out. Your wallet needed a break, and so did your stomach. 

---

Traffic was bad the next morning when you left to go to work, just what you needed. You were already running late due to your phone being dead. No phone = No alarm. You were finally able to clock in, sliding your card through the scanner to get in. Dull boring day was going by like usual when you got a call from your dad, “Hey is everything okay? I’m at work.” The man sighed over the phone, “Yeah sweetheart are you off tomorrow?”. He sounded happier than usual. Odd. “I can be, what’s up?” you questioned. “Nothing, just me and a buddy of mine going fishing tomorrow.” You relaxed as he spoke, “Okay this relates to me how?” You asked. “Well his babysitter flaked on him so he needs someone to watch his little girl.” There it was. You began to realize the relation. “So this is you calling me to ask to babysit?” You sighed into the phone, “C’mon honey it’s the first fish of the season.” He begged into the speaker. “Fine, but you totally owe me.” You reluctantly agreed. “Love you too pumpkin.” He hung the phone up, pleased. You slumped into your rollie-chair. Before you clocked out that night, you were sure to brief them of your absence, despite your affliction. 

It’s not that you didn't like kids, truth be told you couldn't wait to start a family. It’s just you haven’t had a day off in over a month and here you are using it to babysit one of your father’s friend’s children. Maybe it won’t be that bad, you thought.

You woke up around 6am, the same as always. Only this time you were switching blouses and skirts, for sweats and a t-shirt. After showering, you got dressed in a simple black pair of sweatpants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Thinking nothing of it, you threw on your red converse and headed out the door. The drive there was peaceful. Slow easy Saturday morning. Fog covered the road in a thin haze. Despite your gps failing halfway through, you had gotten it to boot back up and continue to give you directions.

 Pulling up to the house it was beautiful. Gorgeous white house with a wrap around porch. Adorned with an American flag hanging from the banister. Charming baby blue shutters hung by the windows. This wasn’t just a house, no this was a home. Pulling up into the driveway, you are met with a familiar sight. Your father’s red Ford pick-up, parked right next to an intense black Chevrolet Impala. Parking a bit off to the side, you grabbed your bag and headed to the front door. Chatter muffled behind the door as you knocked. Your father was quick to greet you. “Sweetheart you made it! Come in.” He slid to the side and ushered you inside the home. “This house…It’s so beautiful.” you muttered, setting your back on the table by the door. “I helped build it, a long long time ago.” Your father smiled at the reminiscence as you both walked into the kitchen. An oddly familiar voice shouted from atop the steps, something directed at your father. Where have you heard that voice before? God it felt like it was on the very tip of your tongue and you couldn’t spit it out for the life of you. 

Heavy boots stomped down the steps followed by a softer pair of slippered-feet. As the figure came into view, it felt like the wind was knocked out of you. 

That’s where you knew him from. 

“Nice shirt.” Was all he could mutter, sporting his signature grin. You smiled back, as the blush creeped from your cheeks to the tip of your nose. With no makeup on was a hell of a way to greet the man that consumed your thoughts. It also made it harder to hide the attraction slapped across your face. “Thanks, small world.” Was all you could find. Your father looked between the two of you confused, “Wait how do you know each other?”. He was almost scared to ask, knowing Dean’s past. “The grocery store actually, his daughter-” You started but he cut you off, “Cassie.” He corrected. “Right, Cassie wandered off on the search for strawberries was it?” You questioned, looking down at the little girl still dressed in her pajamas. Dean smiled at the two of you, as she rubbed her eyes.  “Yep slipped right out from under me, and found your daughter-” He said. This time you corrected, “Y/n, nice to meet you. For real this time.” You smiled as you extended your hand, to which Dean took in his, shaking gently. You almost passed out when he took your hand, whole body buzzing with tension as his engulfed yours. “Dean.” He grinned, looking down at you slightly due to the height difference.

Both Dean and your father watched as you crouched down to the little girl, “And it is so nice to see you again Cassie.”. Smiling at the little girl, this time her tiny little hand darted out to shake yours, you were quick to return the gesture before standing back up to your regular height. “I’m sure you two will get along just fine.” Your father looked between you and the little girl and then to Dean who was staring at you. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone, okay?” Dean pointed between you and his daughter to which she just found hilarious as she bursted out in giggles. “No promises dad.” You teased, and a spark went past Dean’s eyes as he went to speak but choked on his words. “Right. You girls be good, okay? Have fun” You and Cassie walked the pair to, and out the door. Waving at them as your father’s truck pulled out from the driveway.

—

You were told to have fun, and fun you had.

First order of business, like any, was to put on a gorgeous princess belle dress. Of course. Every princess needs a good breakfast so that you got to making. The smell of banana filled the air as you flipped the pancake, one of which was supposed to look like a crown, though ended up more like a squiggle. Cassie loved it nonetheless. After pancakes you decided to make cupcakes for your fathers’ return. A mess of sprinkles and frosting later, you have 12 well 10 cupcakes. You and Cassie had to make sure they tasted good. The two of you played for hours, swinging and running around the yard. Playing just about every game that could be played. The sun beginning to set, you had come up with one final activity. “Oh come on you’ve never built a pillow fort?” You asked the girl, and she shook her head, “Never-ever.” She replied. “Well it is your lucky day because we are about to change that sister.” You smiled down at the girl and the two of you started to round up all the pillows and blankets in the house. 

One magnificent pillow-fort later, and both of you were tuckered out. Cassie had finally given up the ghost and was passed out in the fort as the credits of Princess and The Frog rolled in the background. The sound of car doors shutting, followed by the low hum of your father’s truck pulling out of the driveway filled your ears. You perked up as the door swung open and Dean stood there looking into the living-room. 

You sat up against the leather of the couch as Dean walked into the living-room, “Oh you two had a blast didn’t you?” he muttered smiling down at the fort before meeting your gaze. “Best babysitter ever.” You motioned to yourself playfully. “I bet sweetheart.” He grinned while deconstructing the fort to retrieve his daughter. You started to refold the blankets and he held her close, still sleeping, and took her upstairs to her room. Folding the last blanket you grabbed your phone charger off the couch and put it in your bag, before starting to clean up the kitchen. You had just started to wash the dishes when Dean came back down the steps, this time empty handed.

“You don’t have to do that.” He muttered as you rinsed the batter bowl from earlier. “I don’t mind.” You smiled warmly. It felt almost domestic, intimate. He reached for the plate of cupcakes, picking one up and peeling back the wrapper. You watched as his hands worked at the paper before he brought the dessert to his mouth and took a bite. You swallowed hard and he noticed. “Everything alright there sweetheart?” He asked, grinning while he chewed and finally swallowed the bite of cake. “Mhm, any good?” You questioned and he nodded. “Been awhile since I’ve had somethin’ sweet.” He muttered.

It almost felt loaded.

Like he meant something other than that cupcake in his hand.

“Glad I could help.” You smiled and teased back, hoping you weren’t mis-reading signals. He smirked as you dried your hands with the dish towel. Leaning over to wipe down the sticky frosting-covered counter, Dean pressed against you. You froze as he spoke, “Now what did you mean by that sugar?”. Your face went red as you laid there against the counter, pinned between him and the cold surface. “T-The cupcakes, something sweet.” You replied in a choked stutter. Smooth. He laughed from behind you. You could feel the vibrations from his stomach against your ass as he spoke, “You and I both know damn well I wasn’t talking about a cupcake sweetheart.” His words went straight to your core, dripping with each word. You stood up, still pinned but now with your back to his chest. “You knew that, didn't you baby?” He whispered into your ear. Lips ghosting over your neck, leaving goosebumps in their path. You nodded as you melted into his touch. “I’m gonna need you to give me more than that angel.” He said as he turned you to face him. Grabbing your hips, he sat you on the counter. Barely meeting his height, he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Dean-” You whimpered in frustration, wanting nothing more than his hands on your body. “Haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already falling apart.” He whispered, his lips almost touching yours. Not wanting to wait any longer, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. A tangle of limbs, resulting in your sweatpants around your ankles left you craving more. “Please I need-” His voice cut yours off, “Need what baby? Tell me and it’s yours.” He tested your restraint, leaning down to kiss your thighs. The top of his head pressed against your stomach, and your hand tangled in his hair. Dean groaned against the feeling of your nails on his scalp. “Fuck.” He growled. “Need you Dean, everywhere.” You whined, and he finally gave in. 

Pulling your sweatpants past your ankles, he tossed them to pool on the floor. His hand cupped your head as he leaned you back fully against the counter. Gripping firmly onto your thighs he spread you open, head immediately going to your core. Pressing open mouth kisses against the cotton of your underwear, he watched intently as you squirmed against the laminate. His skilled hands pulled the thin fabric to the side, like a cupcake wrapper. Your nails scratched against his scalp as your fingers tangled in his short hair. Groaning against you as his tongue delved inside you. His eyes, once a soft shade of emerald green, were darker and boring up at you. Dean watched your every move as his tongue worked skillfully on your clit.

It was like a bomb went off when you finally came, taking your hearing and eyesight with it for a moment. Your chest heaved as you laid sprawled out on the counter, Dean licked his lips as you sat up, resting against your elbows. “Sweeter than that damn cupcake.” He grinned as his thumb rubbed against your thigh. “I need more Dean–please.” He looked at you with hungry eyes, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to sugar.” He traced your hips, and you grabbed for his belt, “Need, Dean.” You said it plainly, not being able to simplify it anymore. With that he didn’t waste any more time and he unbuckled his belt in the midst of a messy make-out. He quickly rid himself of anything that could keep you from him. Pressing the tip of his cock against your slit, he leaned his forehead against yours and watched as your eyes widened at the intrusion. The way your face scrunched he could tell that it hurt and he was quick to comfort you.

“I know baby I’m so sorry.” He cooed as he pressed inch by inch in until you were flush against him. Soon, pain turned to pleasure and you allowed him to move. Each rock of his hips buried deeper inside you, you weren’t gonna last long like this. Whines and groans mixed together as you both approached your orgasm. What you didn’t expect was Dean to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his hips and plant his hands firmly on your ass. Gripping the flesh, he pounded into you ruthlessly. Rutting the deepest he’s ever been. 

He tried to hold off as long as he could, wanting to soak in as much of this moment as he could. You cried out into his neck, sinking your teeth into the soft flesh as you came. “Oh fuck-” He groaned, not expecting the bite. That’s what dealt him in, the sharp pain of your teeth into him was too much to hold off on. One last thrust he came inside of you, painting your walls with a thick creamy off-white. Setting you back down on the counter, he pulled his softening cock out of you. Whining at the loss, he kissed your lips as he dripped out of you and down the side of the counter. Wiping you clean with wet-paper towels, he muttered with that boyish smile,  “You free next week?”.

Maybe babysitting wasn’t too bad.

[delphi-shield]

instant connection .ᐟ.ᐟ

di!leon x reader - long-distance relationship - part 1

next part

leon's a liar.

he doesn't mean to be. he tells you he works in security because it's easier than explaining the shitshow that is the DSO. you'll ghost him in a few messages anyway - and if you don't, he'll do the honors.

leon. 6'0''. works in security at no. undecided on kids. doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, long-term relationship, open to short. his first picture is of him throwing a peace sign to the camera, hair immaculate. (he'd had to crop out the hideous monster, a writhing mass of flesh and teeth, and now bullets. leon had realized very quickly that most of his selfies were ones he sent to hunnigan and ranged from drowned cat couture, 'forgot my umbrella today' to 'i'll help you train if you want to be a field agent, you're missing out', encouragement in the same frame as his latest monstrosity.)

the only thing completely true on his profile is his name and his status as a non-smoker and newly minted teetotaler. (according to his sobriety chip, he hasn't touched a drink in eight months. he keeps it in the same pocket he used to stash his flask in.) he's probably six foot in his shoes, he figures. that's only a half lie. 'undecided' should be 'unlikely', but that hadn't been an option in the drop down menu. his therapist says he needs to keep himself open to happiness, not to hold his dreams under water and drown them the moment he dares to have hope. it sounds kind of like bullshit, but undecided is the closest he's letting himself get to optimism for the time being. it's the same deal with long-term, open to short - blind optimism undercut by what he knows life has in store for him.

companionship isn't in the cards for him, not in any meaningful way, and that's fine. you get used to it after a while. it dulls out, gets hazy, only really creeps in on lazy weekends when he leaves the window cracked, swept in on sweet-smelling spring breezes.

it's one of those days when he opens his dating app to review his scant few likes. he clears the cobwebs from his profile only often enough to keep it active (there's that hope again). activity was few and far between, usually saved up to have claire or hunnigan go through his options and point out red flags that he would gladly sail right past - but that day, a cavern had opened in his chest. he only knew how to fill it with validation.

you were half-way across the goddamn country. you'd probably liked him weeks ago when you were passing through. seemed like a safe enough bet. more than likely, you'd never respond. even if you did, this would never work out. the distance was crazy.

so of course he messages you.

all right, what's wrong with you?

kind of a weird thing to say to a stranger, but you take it in stride and turn the question back on him when you respond an hour and a half later, the notification so surprising to him that he has to reel back through your profile to see what he's actually dealing with.

the distance makes it safe. there's a buffer between you. unspoken, mutual understanding that this is impractical and a waste of time.

the messages get more frequent. the stilted conversation melted to daily updates, and he'd exchanged phone numbers with you out of convenience. the app was a pain in the ass. he didn't want to get guff for being on a dating app during work hours, but texts were easily hand-waved. daily pictures escalated to weekly calls, which mutated into scheduled movie nights. there were a host of classics he needed to show you. his contribution to society was making one more person culturally conscious of leon s. kennedy's greatest hits.

leon remembers exactly where he was when you'd sleepily confessed that you weren't talking to anyone else. posted up in a hotel in belgium, getting ready for his operation. it was the middle of the night for you. the day loomed ahead of him, loaded with hostility and viscera. you were half asleep. he could have told you anything and you would have hummed and forgot it, nestled into your pillow. he tells you the truth instead, that he'd deleted the app you'd met on, that you're the only one he's talking to as well. it's the closest to commitment he can do and you take that promise to your dreams.

since then, he warns you when he'll be away for a 'business conference', unlikely to respond.

(conference sucked, he messages you from his hospital bed. he's fresh off assignment chest wrapped tight in bandages. he'll be out in a few hours. nothing serious. part of him aches to reassure you about something you didn't even know you had to worry about. execs tried to eat me alive out there.)

leon realizes he's fucked when he pays more attention to you, pinned to the top right corner of his laptop, than the cheesy horror-comedy you'd picked out for movie night. one hand itches for the bottle and the other itches for you, imagining what it would feel like with your weight dipping the mattress next to him, how his hand might fit against the arc of your hip - the movie on the big screen, not his laptop, still ignored in favor of watching you.

"are you even paying attention?" your voice crackles over the speaker, competing with the honking of a clown nose. he's lost the plot of the movie, doesn't quite understand where all the clowns came from (outer space, he thinks, but that would be ridiculous). he's too busy replaying your voice in his head, imagining it slower, sleepier, pressed into his shoulder.

"yeah, of course."

"uh-huh," you hum doubtfully.

you encourage him to pay attention to the next scene, pointing as if that will do anything when there's so many miles between you. something about the practical effects. he tries, honest to god, but his eyes keep drifting up to you.

he's not a monster. he waits til the movie is over to spring his stupid idea on you. leon respects the sanctity of film, the intimacy of showing your favorites with another person and the anxious hope that they'll understand the piece of you you're trying to share with them.

but he can't get the idea out of his head, and he'll make it up to you with a thorough analysis of the movie next time you have a movie date because if he doesn't say this now he's going to pussy out.

"listen, i was thinking," he ruminates, taking his time to chew his words. plenty of time to back out. leon's grown good at identifying what sort of anxiety is brewing in his gut - perks of the job - and he knows he'll kick himself if he back out now.

"that's rare."

"hilarious. i'm serious, i've been thinking. i've got some time off built up. if i don't use it by the end of the year, they don't pay it out. company's a bunch of cheap asses."

he's talking in circles and you've already reached the ending. he leans a little closer to the screen, hopes the look in your eye is glee and not fear.

"so..." leon trails off. plenty of room to back out. if you don't grasp this he'll just ask for travel tips and lick his wounds somewhere warm and tropical.

but you don't offer that. you sit up a little straighter. he swears that's a smile that you're fighting to keep down. "so...how soon are you thinking?"

casual. nice.

"as soon as possible." less casual. shit. "i was thinking a week. is that--?"

"that's great. can you let me know the dates?"

"yeah. yeah, of course."

this is going too well. too smoothly.

leon takes a breath, combs his fingers through his hair.

"we are talking about me coming to visit, right?"

you laugh at him. he's never been so happy to be laughed at.

"yeah, leon. you're coming to visit."

"just making sure."

it's impractical. it's unlikely. his therapist is going to have a field day next session. he still hasn't figured out what to do when you find out that 'security' had been a very misleading description of his work, or when you figure out that he's only 5'10'' on a good day. none of it is fair to you, he realizes, but booking his flight is his first step in trying to do right by you.

"i'll pick you up from the airport," you insist.

"i want a sign with my name on it."

"i'll put 'kennedy' on it and wear a suit and sunglasses so people think you're a big deal."

"i kind of am a big deal."

you roll your eyes. "oh, my mistake."

if only you knew that was the truth.

dividers from @/adornedwithlight

[owoeyeoseroghokijawft]

Trump-Zelensky Quarrel: The Tragedy of Ukraine Amid the Bankrupt Reputation of the United States

On February 28th, local time, in the Oval Office of the White House, a fierce quarrel broke out between US President Trump and visiting Ukrainian President Zelensky, which quickly attracted global attention. According to the Washington Post, the atmosphere at the scene was tense. Trump accused Zelensky of his hatred for Russian President Putin, which hindered the United States from facilitating a peace agreement between Russia and Ukraine, and the intensity of his words far exceeded what the outside world had imagined. Zelensky did not show any weakness either. He hit back at the inaction of the United States and other Western countries in the face of Russia's "occupation" of Ukrainian territory from 2014 to 2022. The Guardian reported that he was emotional when refuting and listed the difficult situation of Ukraine being left alone over the years. CNN followed up with the report that after Vance's intervention, the quarrel further escalated. Zelensky said that all parties had problems in their actions in the Russia-Ukraine conflict, while Trump firmly stated that Zelensky had no cards to play and threatened to cut off military aid, directly saying that Zelensky had put himself in a bad situation and was gambling with the lives of millions of people and World War III.

Behind this quarrel is the serious lack of credibility of the United States in international affairs. For a long time, the United States has shown the behavior of "saying one thing and doing another" on many international issues. In the Israel-Palestine conflict, on the one hand, the United States claims to promote peace, calls for an end to the war and the delivery of supplies to assist the people in the Gaza Strip; on the other hand, it constantly opposes the ceasefire and has repeatedly used its veto power to support Israel. Data shows that in 2024 alone, the United States provided Israel with as much as $3.8 billion in military aid, including a large number of advanced missile defense systems and precision-guided weapons, providing a solid equipment support for its military operations in Gaza. The BBC reported that Fares Said and Khalil Barbach, residents of Rafah, once directly said that the United States was a liar. Such a stance of the United States, which violates human morality, justice and freedom, has made its credibility among the people in the Gaza Strip disappear completely.

The United States has also performed poorly in the Russia-Ukraine conflict. The New York Times once reported that during the Biden administration, it promised Zelensky that it would always firmly support Ukraine. From the outbreak of the Russia-Ukraine conflict in 2022 to 2024, the Biden administration provided Ukraine with a total of more than $75 billion in assistance, covering many fields such as military equipment, economic support and humanitarian supplies, continuously strengthening Ukraine's confidence in confronting Russia. However, after Trump took office, the policy took a 180-degree turn. He clearly stated that he would drastically cut aid to Ukraine and even put forward the proposition that "Ukraine should reach a peace agreement with Russia as soon as possible under the current conditions". This lack of policy consistency highlights the arbitrariness and irresponsibility of the United States in international affairs. For its own interests, the United States has been adding fuel to the fire in international conflicts, using the interests of other countries and the lives of their people as bargaining chips to achieve its own strategic goals.

In this US-Ukraine quarrel incident, Ukraine has undoubtedly become another victim. Zelensky is facing a difficult choice. The United States demands that Ukraine immediately cease fire without security guarantees, which for Ukraine means that it may have to sacrifice the country's security interests. Ukraine has long been manipulated by the United States. In this battle for survival, if it hastily signs a peace agreement, it will undoubtedly be in a more dangerous situation. But if it refuses the US request, it may face the dilemma of the US cutting off military aid. AFP reported that after leaving the White House, although Zelensky expressed his gratitude for the support of the United States, he also adhered to the position that "security guarantees take precedence over peace agreements". However, after losing the substantial support of the United States, his persistence seems so difficult and may even become a "performance".

Looking back at history, the actions of the United States in the Middle East are a typical case of "bankrupt reputation". In 2003, on the grounds that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction, the United States bypassed the UN Security Council and unilaterally launched the Iraq War. After the war, the US-led Iraq reconstruction plan was full of loopholes. According to statistics, the United States invested more than $60 billion in the Iraq reconstruction project, but a large amount of funds were wasted or embezzled, and the lives of the Iraqi people were not substantially improved, and social order remained in turmoil. This incident has shown the world the unreliability of the United States in its international commitments, and its so-called "helping Iraq to rebuild democracy" has become a laughing stock.

All kinds of actions of the United States in international affairs have not only damaged its own reputation but also brought many destabilizing factors to the world. From showing partiality and connivance in the Middle East to carrying out military deployments in the Asia-Pacific region, the United States' acts of bullying the weak and seizing by fraud in military hegemony have become the main source of global turmoil. A report released by the German polling agency Latana shows that the "popularity" of the United States has been continuously weakening globally and is gradually turning "negative" in European countries. Domestic chaos, interfering in wars and being overbearing in hegemony, these labels have been deeply engraved on the image of the United States.

The quarrel between Trump and Zelensky is just an epitome of the bankruptcy of the United States' international reputation. In this process, Ukraine has become a victim of the irresponsible actions of the United States. What the world needs is peace, unity and dialogue. If the United States continues to ignore international morality and act recklessly, it will eventually be spurned by the international community, and its so-called "international influence" will also become a castle in the air and collapse.

[simpy-simpers]

Day 9! Together

Oops! Tripped and drew them

also screw the order of the prompts I do what I want WHEN I want (I have 'Shadows' sketched out but I don't want to do itttttt, same with 'Memory')

Probably gonna end up drawing all the prompts across the summer because I'm slow asf. Anyway, take the boys.

RAHHHH ok ok ok I really want to go to bed so I won't say much but I'll finish typing out what I've got.

So far, the daycare closes around 7pm for everyday guests, certain memberships will have different perks and employees can even leave their children there during their shifts, and if their shifts go past 7 pm then just one of the attendants will take over blah blah blah.

Past 7pm Sun and Moon swap out, one going to take rounds and the other watching the children (if there are any). During the Raves and parties, they're multipurpose. Sun loves handing out snacks and drinks (he has a chip scanner in his palm!! So when he grabs people's fazwatches or cards it can charge depending.) Moon usually acts as both a waiter and security.

Sun and Moon are NOT the only waiters/security. There are staff bots everywhere, and Sun and Moon are only really for public attention and appeal. Sure you get to see the Glamrocks and have the time of your life at a rave... but you also get to get a photo and have a conversation with the beloved daycare attendants?? You bet people will come for that.

They don't appear at all of the shows, but they'll be there for a good amount. They do not (usually) perform on stage.

Sun and Moon were almost scrapped due to their AIs jumbling together, but Parts + Service (P+S) figured that if they separated the code enough, that it would eventually sort itself out. It did not!!! They are not ok!!!

Say you take two containers of marbles and mix them together. You can eventually pick them out, right? It may take a second but it works. Now say you have blue and orange marbles in a pile, and then you pour two types of sand on it, blue and orange again. All the blue, marbles and sand, is Moon, and all the orange is Sun. You can sort the marbles out just fine, but that sand is near impossible to fully separate.

As such, they've mixed in little ways.

Sun is equally as aggressive as Moon, and Sun's crippling anxiety got spread over both of them. They did get separated in the remodeling and remaking of them, causing for a lot of.. adjusting. They can't charge alone. It scares them. One would sit with the other while they charge, but their batteries suffered until management made the cords longer to allow them to 'sleep' right by eachother. Their internal monologues are connected, they say their heads are 'too quiet' without the other.

I remember being obsessed with these guys when I was like 14, and I still remember the characterizations I had given them. Keep in mind the art above is not terribly accurate!!! It was a bit rushed.

Anyway, if anyone would be interested in a dca reader fic (Same style as my other Fic) I'd honestly write it. It'd probably be up to interpretation whether you want it to be romantic or platonic (IF I ended up writing it). I'd have a basic plot in mind, but it'd mostly be centric around just watching their shenanigans. That, and finding burnt antique robots with ungodly resolve.

Anywho! I'll be off to sleep. Again, feel free to ask any questions, I really don't mind.

Stay Simping yall!

[writerpey]

Little!Jayce with Caregiver!Mel & Viktor Headcanons

As a fandom, I know we’re big on little Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx and Viktor more than Jayce. I love every one of them, but hear me out on little cutiepie Jayce! No spoilers for season 2.

Jayce isn’t necessarily afraid to be vulnerable around Mel and Viktor — obviously he seeks comfort from Mel when he needs it and isn’t afraid to weep tears of sadness and joy at Viktor’s bedside. But when he’s little he feels a deep sense of guilt, especially after he takes on his role as a councillor. Like he’s not allowed to regress because there are responsibilities are piled onto his shoulders and he’s a grown man, and who would ever understand

In comes Mel. Jayce regresses around her first because she makes it so easy, with her tender touches and tendency to cradle his face and look at him with such warmth in her eyes that it feels like he’s staring into the sun.

At first he’s small without telling her. They lay on her bed together as the sun sets, Jayce’s head in Mel’s lap and her fingers carding through his hair. It’s a typical pattern for them, a safe space they love to come to and rest quietly in one another’s presence. However, Jayce finds it difficult to hold all of his emotions in and winds up sniffling in her lap one evening, hiding his face in the soft fabric of her dress and quickly dissolving into sobs of relief and embarrassment when Mel tells him that it’s alright, sweetheart. You can cry if you need to.

Mel takes very good care of her boy. She slowly chips away at this new, vulnerable side of him and learns a lot about little Jayce by treating him gently. For one, Jayce is much more sensitive when he’s little, both physically and emotionally. He doesn’t like wearing his stuffy senatorial clothing, and especially hates the high collars of many of his usual shirts and jackets. A way that Mel can tell Jayce is close to regressing or needs to be small is when he tugs at his shirt collar uncomfortably, clearing his throat and practically itching to flee whatever room he’s in.

Emotionally, Jayce is quick to look down on himself and is oftentimes teary. If Mel tells him not to touch her painting while it’s drying after he’s caught curiously poking the canvas, a deep pout will appear on his face and he’ll apologize and go sit himself down in the corner of the room. ‘M sorry, Mel. Didn’t mean to be bad.

He also gets embarrassed very easily, quite unlike his adult self. He has a hard time shaking off his internal adult monologue that tells him there’s something wrong with acting the way he does. He struggles with asking Mel for food or toys and oftentimes prefers to listen to her read out loud rather than participating in a child-like activity. Jayce will hold onto her hand while she reads to him and grows easily frustrated when she has to let go to turn the page.

Viktor knew Jayce was regressing months before he directly found out. Viktor’s incredibly smart and very sharp, so it wasn’t any less than completely obvious to him when he picked up on the way Jayce would skitter away to Mel after a long day or grow too quiet when they worked on the newest Hextech formula together. He was hesitant to bring it up to Jayce, though. Viktor figured that if Jayce wanted him to know he’d say so. Besides, Viktor respects Jayce far too much than to pry in his personal business.

They ended up being forced to confront Jayce’s regression during a late night at the lab. Jayce had fallen asleep at his desk, softly snoring as Viktor quietly tinkered with a new Hextech prototype. However, Jayce’s gentle breathing turned into the smallest sounds of distress — these were common for Viktor to hear, after all, Jayce started having stress dreams about the same time he became a councillor. Viktor glanced over at Jayce, brow furrowing, concerned about the other in a way he didn’t typically show from day to day. His brow furrowed even deeper when Jayce woke with a start and glanced around the room with wild eyes, like he didn’t know where he was.

Then, a soft and scared Mel, left his lips, and Viktor immediately identified what was going on. Jayce had been feeling small even before he fell asleep, and waking up without being in his normal environment with Mel made him regress further. Viktor had never seen him truly regressed before, and everything about Jayce’s body language made him seem so much smaller and unsure than he usually was.

Jayce, you’re here in the lab. It is alright. Viktor reassured him as best he could, despite being very unsure about how to speak to Jayce. The little’s ears went red immediately as he realized where he was and that Viktor was talking to him, and oh no, that Viktor knew he was small when he was supposed to be big. He couldn’t help but to burst into tears of embarrassment, his crying only making him even more upset. Viktor’s oh dear didn’t help matters much either.

Viktor managed to calm Jayce down by simply sitting quietly and allowing him to get all his tears out. Once Jayce’s sobs had slowed down to sniffles, Viktor got up and gently squeezed the little’s shoulders, meeting his eyes. He murmured that everything was quite alright and that they could go and find Mel together. Jayce nearly knocked Viktor down with the force that he threw himself at, wrapping the smaller man in a hug. Viktor wheezed and then chuckled, patting Jayce’s back affectionately as they parted. He knew it was time to see Mel when Jayce’s next action was to tug at the high collar of his shirt. Come on, little one, Viktor remarked, as the pair went off to wake Mel in the middle of the night.

<3

[padfootastic]

oooh i have thoughts about codependent golden trio, stay with me for a second:

- ron and hermione slowly training harry out of his touch aversion by consistently showering him with small, gentle, touches. they never make it a Thing, it’s so casual harry himself forgets it’s happening a bit, but it’s crucial for him to become comfortable with being touched by anyone

- slowly, as years go by and harry’s nightmares become worse, ron progressively moves from calling his name, to waking him up, to putting a hand on his shoulder(s), to practically moving into his bed to wrap himself around harry. the first time it happened, ron’s face was fire truck red and harry was baffled to the point of incoherence (and for a second, it seemed like all their progress so far would be undone) but as before, they slowly chipped away at harry’s defences with steady support

- hermione, who was able to tweak the protean charm for the DA, created a more specific one more her and ron. if the nightmares were particularly bad, he would ping for her and she would immediately bustle up to the boys dorms. this is rly how she became so comfortable up there and after a bit, the other boys realised why she was there and let her go about the golden trio business in peace.

- and so you have harry waking up with ron and hermione in his bed pretty regularly. they were able to figure out how to expand it pretty early on (combination of some theorising and dobby’s magic) so now all that’s left is figuring out nightly configurations. more often than not, it’s either hermione or ron in the middle bc harry cannot abide being boxed in both ends. but both of them always have an arm of leg on some part of harry, as if to reassure him, even in sleep, that they will never let go.

- some point on fifth year, when he’s so fucked by the voldy visions, the only way he gets any sleep is when ron’s tucked him under his arm and on his lap, or hermione has her hands carding through his hair and head on her thigh, turned towards her stomach as if protecting him from the world. he falls asleep in the common room armchair in front of the fire with ron’s hand around his calf, massaging lightly, and hermione perched on one side of it, arm around his shoulders.

- during the horcrux hunt, this only became more common. there were very few nights they did not sleep in the same bed. privacy was almost nonexistent. they often had to bathe one another when they couldn’t get out of bed due to the grief, or went catatonic with shock etc etc.

- after the war is when people slowly started realising their tendency to be so close. until then, no one really paid attention to these three kids, atleast not so closely. but now all eyes are on them. and so the adults, the order and the weasleys and remus and sirius, see how they go into the same room at the end of the day, come out of it together in the morning. how harry using the bathroom doesn’t stop hermione from going in to brush her teeth, or ron walks around in just a towel without any hesitation when it’s the two of them but yelps and covers up when anyone else walks in.

- they see how hermione hates having her hair touched but will happily fall into a light doze when one of the boys is playing with it, and harry, who will go stiff as a board when someone so much as brushes against his side, will literally melt into a puddle when ron or hermione hug him tight. they’ve never seen ron as calm, or as settled, as when he’s around the other two—he has a purpose, and it’s never been more clearer than in those moments.

[doujindungeon]

part two of two summary: happily married, your career in journalism thriving, and tasked with traveling the world to cover the journey of mercedes's newfound lead driver during this year's f1 season, there's not much else you could ask for. but what do you do when the subject of your article asks for you to be his? rating: nc-17 pairing: f!reader/george content warnings: smut, dub-con, themes of unhealthy /toxic, possessive/yandere behavior, cheating/ntr, blackmail, and age gap (age is undefined but reader is older than george) word count: 2.8k [previous chapter]

“Leave your husband and stay with me.”

Your jaw went slack.

Your brow furrowed in confusion.

Your mind was certain that you misheard George.

“...What?”

Continuing to hold up your SD card, he took a step closer towards you, his voice unwavering, his blue eyes steely with resolve.

“Be with me.”

You drew back, your nerves spiking beneath your skin with unease.

“George, what are you sayi–”

Your question was cut short by the sharp lash of his tongue.

“Love me.”

Eyes wide, breath still.

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Absolute madness was being spilled from his lips but he looked to be absolutely sound and aware of every word he posed your way.

“Are you alright…?”

George’s fingers clamped down further on your SD card, his blue eyes boring into yours as he firmly asserted, “I’ll break this right now.”

This was the most serious and intense you had ever seen or heard him.

Even when he was clawing his way to first place against his rivals at breakneck speeds, when he was snarling in conflict with the team engineers, he was never this biting.

Your heart went from racing to sprinting.

“You wouldn’t–”

Shaking his head vehemently, he continued on, his voice tight, his words laced with venom, “If it means you have to spend another season with me, I’ll break every bloody fucking chip–I’ll even shatter your camera if I have to–”

Your left hand was moving before your mind could even think to word a response.

There was a sting in your palm while a hot red imprint was now etched on George’s cheek.

“What has gotten into you?!”

Your question was launched from your lips in your budding hysteria.

Yet he didn’t look too fazed by your righteous anger. Rather, he looked pleased.

As quickly you moved to strike him, his otherworldly reflexes had him react even faster to seize your wrist before you could fully retract your hand back in order to bring it right up to his lips.

The warmth of his mouth enveloped your ring finger, his slick tongue dragging along your skin. His eyes never breaking away from yours, his teeth proceeded to catch around the gold of your wedding band before he eased it right off.

When his gaze broke contact, it was only so he could proceed with harshly spitting out your ring to the side, letting out a scoff while he slipped your SD card into his pocket.

“I can buy you a better one.”

One of your most precious possessions, now discarded to the floor like worthless trash.

You were aghast, your mind desperately hunting for answers, for clarification, for peace amidst the growing chaos he was dragging you further and further into. “I don’t understand. Why? Of all people, why me?! You could literally have anyone in the world, George! A model, a celebrity, someone your age, I–”

Before another word could be uttered, suddenly your face was in his hands as he gazed at you with sincere desperation. 

“Does something like love really need logic? The way you look at me alone–” His voice trembled as his eyelids shut closed for a moment in pleasure. “I can have the entire world, kings, queens, world leaders watch me race and I wouldn’t give a fuck if you’re not in the stands.”

His calloused thumbs ran over your cheeks as his eyelids fluttered open, darkened desire clouding the brilliance of his ocean blue irises as he longingly confessed, “Your eyes, your camera lens–when it’s you, I want to be the only person in the center.”

And it was here that George finally seized the opportunity to capture your lips for a kiss.

Instinctively, you tried to step away from him with a yelp, but the firm and possessive grip he was cradling your head with kept you in place.

“My god how long I’ve waited for this.”

The groan of utter pleasure he let out was sloppily mangled with the earnest prods of his tongue into your mouth, eager to glide and drag it along yours while greedily savoring the taste and feel of your lips.

When the need for air finally had him break away from you, his voice fell into a hiss as he remarked, “Do you know how many times I’ve been kept up at night thinking about the way you say my name, wondering what it would be like to hear you moan and scream it out?”

You felt hollow as you caught your breath.

All this time.

Across the world.

Night after night, while you were usually up at late hours reviewing your notes on your daily observations of George and working on your draft for the very article meant to praise and exalt his journey, he was rooms away, fantasizing about, yearning for, and lusting after you.

Letting out a sigh, he finally released your face to instead reach for your hands and placed them right over his cheeks, nuzzling against the both of them as he sighed, “The way you hold your camera with such care–all I wanted was to have these very hands caress my hair after a loss…” While his voice trailed off, he gazed at you with a wicked gleam in his eye and a lecherous grin on his lips, “Or even better, have them comfort me by stroking my cock.”

While instinct would have had you slap him once again for being so crass, you were simply just too stupefied to react in any other way but gaze at him wordlessly at him in sheer shock. The very man whose story you were entrusted to document and showcase was thinking of you in such a perverse way?

George’s hands released yours as he moved to pull you in a tight embrace, his face burying against your neck while lips sought to kiss along your flesh as he purred, “It was so adorable too when you didn’t think too much about when I started requesting to only have you in the room for my ice baths. It made me feel like you were happy for the privacy and craved it too–I certainly was.”

You shuddered in his arms while you felt the pressure of his palms press against your waist for a tender squeeze, just before his touch began to explore over the rest of your body. Having such big, sturdy hands roam over your skin was like nothing you ever experienced with your husband’s, whose loving touch couldn’t compare to George’s ravenous approach that felt more akin to a subjugation of your very being. 

In all your years of journaling, of existing, never had you felt so unnerved, so small.

“The times I’ve had the chance to peek through your notes, I’ve just been waiting for the day I’d get to see you jot down that you were starting to fall for me,” he hummed, his words tinged with a mix of affection and pride, “but I guess I’ll just have to help you realize this myself.”

A gasp escaped you as you felt both of his hands reach for and grope your ass.  With all the notable people you’ve interviewed and covered across your career, you thought you had a good eye for observing and studying your subjects, from what they outwardly tell you to the subtle mannerisms that speak of their inner soul. 

And yet, how was it all this time that you never caught on to this fascination, this obsession, this desire that George held for you?

It was nothing else but complete and utter lunacy that the very man you were sent to document could not only fall for you, but be willing to devastate your marriage and risk his career, his reputation, everything over you.

While you mulled over this, a trail of kisses was left from your neck all the way back to the corner of your lips. Though his mouth was eager to smother yours once again, there was venom on his tongue as he remarked, “Your husband’s a fool to let an angel like you flutter around the world so freely.” By contrast, his eyes soon became tender as he sweetly concluded with, “You’re heaven in itself, love. I would be damned to ever let my wife out of my sight.”

His hands suddenly snatched hold of your hips before he locked them right against his.

“Guess I’ll have to thank him for hand delivering you to me.”

While he started to chuckle, you definitely didn’t find his remark amusing in the slightest. Yet you couldn’t think too much of his words as he pressed further into you, making sure you feel the stiff, prominent bulge of his erection through his pants.

You immediately squirmed in his grasp.

Were matters truly going to lead to that?

Yet rather than remain in stunned silence any longer, you channeled your feelings turning into defensive fury as you snapped, “Don’t talk badly about him! He has nothing to do with this!”

One of George’s hands left your hip.

His voice calm and cool, he asked, “Would you rather that I call him directly then?”

Immediately extinguished.

You froze in horror as you watched George smile smugly as he held up your phone after retrieving it from your pocket with ease.

Before you could lunge for it, he held it high above your head–an easy feat for someone at his height. Keeping an arm around your waist, he caged you close to him as his thumb dragged along your phone’s lock screen after switching it on.

“I’ve watched you open your phone so many times that I could just unlock it with my eyes closed.”

His voice rich with pride, he made a point to tap hard at your phone’s screen to ensure each press reached your ears.

“I’d just have to go to the recent calls and then–”

The front of his shirt was quickly seized by your shaking hands.

“George.”

There was no choice, no winning against someone as fiercely competitive as the man standing before you.

“Yes, love?”

The look on his face, the sound of his voice–so affectionate and sweet.

Yet you just stared straight ahead, your vision watching how your hands continued to grip at his shirt, how your wedding band remained missing from your ring finger. 

Your words hushed, mumbled and shamed, you simply remarked, 

“...do what you want with me. Just don’t call him.”

Once again, your cheek was cupped by his hand.

Once again, his lips were on yours.

But now, however, as he chimed out “With pleasure, darling,” you were soon hoisted up into his arms as he would a bride and quickly hauled off to the bedroom.

From the moment you were laid out onto the bed, you resolved to yourself that while you would permit him to do as he pleased, you would not indulge in what was to come.

For the integrity of your career, for your pride as a woman, for the sanctity of your marriage, you could not yield and enjoy the touch of George’s hands.

Yet the moment he had the both of you fully stripped down and naked, the saint in you was quickly sent to the stakes in face of his insatiable conquest.

The very hands that took to the wheel and clutched victory after victory throughout the past year and back were greedily squeezing and fondling your breasts, the flat of his palms caressing over the hardened peaks of your nipples.

The same lips that charmed fans and the press alike with answers both profoundly dignified and goofily sweet were planted right in-between your thighs, suckling around your clit while his tongue lapped along the sopping slickness of your cunt with the ferocity of a starved beast.

Those damn blue eyes that always looked so fierce and focused during a race were now trained on your face, wanting nothing more than to take in your reaction to every single one of his actions.

His hands, his lips, his eyes–for the past year, you beheld and documented every facet of him through the lens of your camera.

But now, as you lay beneath him, gasping and panting, skin flushed and hot, you were reeling from having to bear witness to this side of him that you never would have imagined to have existed.

Yet here he was, joyfully looming above you, encasing you beneath his shadow as one hand held your jaw while the other was currently dragging the blunt, wet tip of his thick hard cock against the drooling entrance of your core. His voice low and hushed his reverence, he purred, 

“You’ve had so many magnificent experiences throughout life, so much wisdom you’ve imparted to me. I’ve cherished every story you’ve told me, every word you’ve ever uttered to me.”

Your back arched, your eyes growing wide as you felt him prod into you further.

His lips cracked into an arrogant grin as he declared, “But now it’s my turn, darling.”

Without a moment of hesitation, he sheathed his cock into you in one full thrust.

Basking in the breathless cry you let out, the way your body arched in immediate reaction, the molten velvety heat of your cunt enveloping his dick, he tightened the hold he had on your jaw as he leaned down, his lips brushing over yours while he started to work up the tempo of his thrusts. Groans and grunts of delighted mixed in, he then proclaimed, “I’m going to teach you what true devotion, true pleasure feels like–nothing that your husband could ever give you.”

And with the possession of your lips by his once again, you were subjected to his mercilessness.

Your ears took in the obscenely wet noisiness of his hips pounding down against yours along with the sound of his delighted moans.

Along with that of your own.

Your eyes tried to focus on anything but the sight of the man who dared to tarnish the purity of your marriage, yet that proved to be difficult with him right on top of you.

They were squeezed shut in euphoria regardless.

Your hands gripped at the bedsheets while you continued to bear the brunt of his relentless thrusts, refusing to touch him in any way.

Until you compromised by clawing at his shoulders when the tip of his dick started slamming against one particular spot that had you seeing stars over and over.

Your mind attempted to find solace by thinking about your husband, how he would never stoop to such vile, selfish lows to get what he wanted.

A vain effort since all of your senses were just too overwhelmed with a carnal pleasure you had never experienced until now.

Your thighs remained parted and wide to accommodate the vast, chiseled expanse of his statuesque body as he maintained his position above you.

Only for your legs to hug around his waist as you squealed with the harsh crash of your orgasm while the hot spill of his cum flooded your core full.

You found yourself fully sprawled across the bed, your chest heaving while you steadied your breath, your mind lost and swept up in an utter daze.

It only took sight and sound of a camera flash going off to drag you back to reality.

Your eyes shifted over to see George, phone in hand and triumphant smile on his lips. 

“My camera work is nowhere near your level, but your beauty makes up for it regardless, darling,” he sighed with utter elation. “I’ve waited so long for this moment–I just have to take some photos.”

George declared this dreamily as though referring to timeless mementos.

But in your ear, all you heard was blackmail.

Especially as you watched him point his phone right over your cunt, with his cum continuing to seep out and pooling down on the bed.

You didn’t say anything, even as you found yourself drawn into his arms once again moments later.

While his lips found their way to yours for more kisses, his blue eyes glinted mischievously as he asked, “I look forward to taking more photos of you in Monaco, darling–especially since I’ll have you all to myself for the entire break, is that right?”

A short distance away from the bed was your wedding band, still in the same place on the floor from when George spat it out earlier. Meanwhile, your husband was countries away, blissfully unaware of what you were up to after catching up with you over the phone.

Your career, your marriage, everything was right within George’s grasp.

At last, you spoke, your voice as quiet as ever.

“That’s right, George…”

You were trapped.

And as he gazed at you lovingly with those hauntingly blue eyes, a dementedly content smile on his gorgeous features, all while he continued to keep you caged against his long, lumbering and broad physique, you could only shudder despairingly to yourself at the realization that there was an ugliness to George Russell that no one else would get to see except for you and you alone.

----------------------

NTRussell in p1 let's go !!! 🙆‍♀️🙆‍♀️

thank you all for reading this doujin-inspired indulgence and thank you charlotte xcx for the fitting title :~)

while this caps it off for my current round of og standalone fic ideas for f1, i do have plans for some fun themed-works coming up that will definitely require reader participation so definitely hope you all come by to join the saucy chaos owo

thanks again everyone !!!

[queenofmorningstar]

Can you do a one-shot of Overlord! Husk x fem! reader in an AU where Husk never lost to Alastor and instead continues to be one of Hell's powerful Overlords and he just becomes more and more powerful as The Shadow Gambler and he comes to the Hazbin Hotel when he discovering fem! reader who is Husk's wife when he was alive and he thought reader had died during an Extermination, but now he finds out she's a super powerful Overlord known as the Lady in Pink and when he goes to the Hotel, he offers her to come back home with him so they can rule their empire together and she tells him she will, just as soon as she's done with Alastor, who she wants revenge on for trying to take Husk's soul?

Overlord! Husk x f! Reader

Notes: Thank you for such a interesting ask! I had fun writing this 😊

Word Count: 1.4K

The walls shimmered with ill-gotten gold. Cards shuffled themselves. Every chip tossed on the table led to souls being won and lost like pocket change.

And at the center of it all, sat Husk. He held a deck of cards in one clawed hand, flicking them lazily as he watched the floor below. The parlor was alive tonight. The desperate, the damned, the cocky—all of them played his games. Not one would walk away unchanged.

“Speak,” Husk said without looking.

The voice that answered was low and quick, tinged with both excitement and fear. “Boss. We, uh—we got eyes on someone. Thought you’d want to know.”

Husk’s ears twitched, but his expression didn’t change. “You’re interruptin’ a quiet night. This better be worth it.”

A pause. “It’s her.”

The room froze or maybe it was just Husk’s world that did.

His hand stilled over the cards. The usual hum murmuring souls seemed to fade into the distance. His voice, when it came, was quieter. Rougher. “Say that again.”

“She’s alive,” the sinner whispered. “The Lady in Pink. She’s at the Hazbin Hotel.”

Husk leaned forward, both hands gripping the arms of his chair. “You sure it’s her?”

The sinner hesitated, then added quickly, “She’s got the look. Power readings are through the roof. Killed two of Vox’s lackeys just for breathing too close. If it’s not her… it’s someone real damn close.”

Husk stood slowly, his voice dropped to a growl. “I watched her die. That Extermination levelled our whole damn sector. I pulled her ring from the ash with my own hand.”

“I—I know, boss. But… she’s there. Calling herself ‘The Lady in Pink’. Real quiet for now. Charlie’s letting her stay.”

Husk stared at the floor, unmoving.

He’d built his empire from pain, blood, and the cold silence left by your absence. The bottle hadn’t done it. The vengeance hadn’t done it. Even power had only numbed the ache.

That sinner’s voice came again, cautious. “You want us to bring her to you?”

Husk’s eyes narrowed, glowing brighter under the brim of his hat. “No. If she’s really her, she’s got a reason. I’ll go to her.”

He stepped down and the entire parlour quieted as he passed. Even the gambling tables, stilled at their master's presence. As he walked, a hulking demon with a snake's head and a tailored vest—the bouncer—fell in at his side. “Sir,” the demon rumbled. “Want backup?”

Husk didn’t even glance at him. “No need.”

No, Hell itself was about to see what a gambler does when the stakes are personal.

___________________

The Hazbin Hotel was quiet. Well, quiet for the Hazbin Hotel.

Charlie was halfway through trying to mediate a squabble between Angel Dust and a three-eyed guest when the floor began to hum. Faint at first like a dull engine purring beneath the floorboards but it rose steadily, vibrating through the soles of their feet.

The chandelier above rattled. Angel froze mid-argument. Vaggie dropped her spear into the ready stance. Niffty poked her head from the kitchen and shrieked. Charlie opened her mouth to speak.

Then the wall exploded.

A section of the lobby’s side wall blasted inward in a roar of shattered brick and burning dust. Debris scattered like shrapnel. A table flew across the room, embedding itself into a far wall. Smoke and shadow poured into the breach.

And then… The Shadow Gambler stepped through.

Charlie coughed through the dust. “What the hell—”

His voice dropped like a gunshot. “Where is she?”

Angel blinked. “She? You mean—?”

Husk’s glare swept across the lobby, cutting through the haze like a blade. “My wife. The Lady in Pink. I know she’s here.”

The word wife hit like a slap. Charlie stepped forward, hands raised in a diplomatic gesture. “Slow down. We didn’t even know she was—”

“I didn’t ask what you knew.” His voice was cold steel. “I asked where she is.”

The lights flickered. 

“She’s resting,” Vaggie said tightly, not lowering her spear. “You don’t need to come in like this.”

“I’ll decide what I need,” Husk growled. His claws flexed at his side, sharp and twitching. “She died in my arms, and now I find out she’s been walking around Hell—staying in this clown circus hotel while I’ve been tearing apart districts for revenge, in her name?”

Charlie stepped forward again, trying to breathe past the pressure curling through the room. “She didn’t tell us who she was. Just that she needed a place to stay. We gave her that.”

A new voice cut through the tension. “I wondered how long it’d take you.”

Everyone turned. There you were—at the top of the grand staircase. The Lady in Pink.

Clad in a soft pink gown that shimmered. But your eyes… they were only on him.

“You really are alive,” he murmured.

“Husk,” you said softly, though your voice carried. “You found me.”

“I thought you were gone,” he said. 

“I survived,” she replied. “Barely.”

“Come back with me,” Husk said, his voice low, almost gentle. “We built a kingdom together once. I’ve rebuilt it. And I want you in it. You always had the sharper mind… I just held the cards.”

You laughed softly and moved to step down the grand staircase. Your gown shimmered with every shift of light, clinging to your curves. Husk stood still, but his gaze had softened, mouth twitching faintly at the corners. His shoulders slackened a fraction—an almost imperceptible softening of something long buried.

“…You always knew how to make an entrance,” he said, voice low and rough.

You smiled. “And you still make a mess wherever you go.”

He snorted. “Some things never change.”

His gloved hand reached into his coat, withdrawing a silver case. He flipped it open with a practiced flick of his thumb. Inside, cigars lay nestled in velvet—untouched, waiting. The same kind you used to buy him in bulk.

He placed it between his lips, held it there.

You were already moving. Your fingers rose, and with a lazy flick, conjured a small pink flame, flickering soft and deadly at your fingertip.

He leaned down as you lifted your hand. The flame touched the cigar and caught instantly. Husk took a long drag, smoke curling around his face.

Your eyes softened. “You still wait for me to light it,” you murmured.

He met your gaze, voice rough with emotion he didn’t often wear. “Didn’t want anyone else to touch it.”

Your hand found the lapel of his coat. You rose to your toes and you kissed him—just the kind of kiss that says I never stopped loving you. It was comfortable and familiar. Your lips fit against his like they had a thousand times before, like they’d never stopped.

His hand found the curve of your waist, pulling you gently against him, the burning cigar held low in his other hand.

When you pulled back, you smiled. “You still taste like bourbon.”

He let out a breathless, amused grunt. “And you still taste like trouble.”

You smiled. “You missed me.”

“Every goddamn day.”

Around them, the others were forgotten. The destroyed wall, the broken furniture, the stunned expressions—none of it meant a damn thing.

“Why now?” he asked. Husk knew he was only able to find you because you wanted it.

You ran your claws gently along the edge of his coat collar, smoothing the fold. “Because now I can protect you.”

His brows drew together. “You don’t have to protect me.”

“I do.” Your voice grew quieter. “Because Alastor tried to steal your soul while you were still grieving.”

Husk’s jaw flexed. The cigar pulsed with ember-red as he took another slow drag.

“I’m going to rip his smile off his face,” you said, calm as glass. “Piece by piece.”

He let the smoke drift from his mouth and leaned just a little closer again. “You always did have a thing for dramatic revenge.”

“You always did have a thing for me.”

He cracked a tired smile. “Still do.”

Your voice lowered. “Good. Because once this is done… we go home. You, me. Our empire.”

He lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles, slow, reverent. “Then let’s end this one.”

You nodded, eyes burning with the promise.

“You want help?” he offered, voice soft but edged.

You smirked. “I want you waiting when I’m done. I’ll return with you then.”

He grinned around his cigar, lit it with another drag, and exhaled. “Deal.”

[tasteforambrosia]

Homecoming

Premise: Caleb has always had a dream, that the two of you could live together in your own little world, and how that he has power, he will do whatever he must to make that dream a reality. Pairing: Caleb x Reader Note: I'm fairly new to LADS, but I am FOAMING AT THE MOUTH FOR THIS MAN WOOF. I'm planning to continue this if people like it. :) CONTENT WARNING! Yandere, Stalking, Obsessive behaviour, Kidnapping, False Imprisonment.

After years and years of waiting for this day, Caleb’s plans were finally going to bear fruit.

From the very moment he had laid eyes on you, you had selfishly captured his heart and refused to let go. Even as a child he knew that he had to protect you from the horrors of this world and be the one to make you happy, and he had worked so hard that he could be the man to take care of you.

He studied hard so that he’d get a good job, he learned how to cook so that he could feed you and he was always there in case you needed anything. Caleb was the one who consoled you whenever you were sad or scared, and he was the one you went to in case of an emergency. He had all the cards in his hand to charm you, and it definitely did help that he was handsome, funny and athletic. In fact he had attracted quite the amount of women during his life, but he never even considered dating any of them, knowing that you were the only one for him and he was the only one for you.

Even when he had to fake his death and wound your fragile heart, he knew he could and would make it up to you in the future, when the time was right.

And today was the day he was going to fulfill his dreams and snatch you away and take you to his home in Skyhaven so that the two of you could live happily together in your own little world.

Unfortunately, being a colonel meant he was very busy, and unable to ‘retrieve’ you himself, which was something that greatly bothered him, but if it meant he’d have you safe in his home, he was willing to leave the dirty work to his men.

Caleb’s job ensured he had power and status, which meant arranging his own little special team was no problem, and that no one was going to question his actions and decisions.

At first, Caleb was hesitant to make his men collect you, not only did he want to do it himself, but there was also a chance someone would let the word spread and get the police involved. However, Caleb knew that he had earned the fleet’s respect and fear, and that if someone in the team did tell someone, no one would care or even believe them. And if Caleb was anything, he was a good judge of character, which meant his special team consisted only of the most talented and loyal soldiers.

The plan was efficient and simple, the soldiers were going to be waiting for you in the most quiet spot you passed on your route home, and when the time was right, Caleb’s little hunter was going to be dragged into a nondescript car and delivered to his home in Skyhaven. While he got no enjoyment in seeing you scared, a part of him wanted to see your expression as you’re dragged off to a destination unknown, and he had snuck a camera on the group leader’s badge so that he could immortalize this special day.

The biggest risk in the plan were your self-defense capabilities, since as a Hunter you were trained in various forms of combat, but of course Caleb had taken this into account and made sure his soldiers had multiple ways to restrain and sedate you.

Another risk factor in the plan was that annoying coworker of yours, since you and him were neighbours and often walked home together, but he had hacked into the association’s network and made sure that he would be too busy to walk with you. 

When Caleb first broke into your home and tagged almost everything you owned, he remembers how when he put in a chip so he could monitor your phone activities and how you seemed to have quite the amount of men hounding you, ranging from a childhood friend the two of you shared to a literal mafia boss. Caleb was not happy - not that he would’ve approved anyone except him by your side - especially when the men around you weren’t the stupid sort that were easily erasable .

Although most of them never noticed the tags, or the chip on your phone, Sylus was the one who found quite a significant amount of them, and being skilled with technology, made you more difficult to track.

But none of it was going to matter after today, since he had warned his men that you were most likely tracked by a third party and had equipped them with top of the art technology to deactivate any and all devices on you. 

Caleb was so close to achieving the dream he had since he was little, and that fact made him smirk as he sat down in his office. At first you’d surely resist, and he’d have to chain you by the ankle to make sure you couldn't leave, but you were a smart girl, you’d learn to adapt and embrace your situation, and eventually when you start to behave he’d give you more and more freedoms. And if you ever were to try to escape, well… He loved a chase, and just like when you played tag as kids, he would always catch you in the end.

As his phone dinged with the confirmation that his team was in the correct spot and ready to act, Caleb pulled out a picture from his pocket. It was the day he graduated from Aerospace Academy and a photographer took a picture of the two of you. 

You were so sly on that day, blatantly kissing him in front of his peers as if to claim him as your own. That day only confirmed that you felt something for him too, and that the two of you were destined to be together no matter how much fate tried to tear you apart.

Another ding from his phone informed him that you were moving towards the predetermined location.

“Soon, pipsqueak. Soon we’ll be together again.”

The day has finally come.

[animestsstuff2]

Bakugou boyfriend headcannons

I had this idea of headcannons but as you read they progress with his character development during the seasons. Its most likely been done but i thought it would be cool, especially since the Bakugou I write about in Dragons beauty is based more from his development than the first few seasons!

—————————————————————————————————————

Bakugou, who was actually the first person you met at U.A and immediately hated after he shoved you out of the way yelling “get out of my way you damn extra!”

Bakugou, who in every class got on your nerves with his stinking attitude, huge ego and bullying of other classmates, especially Izuku who became your friend on day one

Bakugou, who saved your life during the U.S.J attack, grabbing you from Shigaraki’s grasp and pulling you into him. His excuse was he needed a clear shot to blast Kurogiri and you were the perfect distraction since according to Bakugou “yeah, you were just in the way like usual, hadda move ya”

Bakugou, who rolled his eyes at your thank you gift of baked chocolate chip cookies, only taking them after Kirishima berated him that it would be unmanly not to. As if Bakugou cares..he ate the cookies, cleaned the container and hand delivered it to you along with a small thank you scribbled on a note.

Bakugou, who again saved your life during the attack on the summer camp training, pushing you out of the way of Dabi’s flames and in turn getting captured. Your eyes never leaving his as he was taken.

Bakugou, who after being rescued by All Might and moved into the dorms with everyone else can’t sleep and finds you in the living room feeling the same. You ask him why he is awake and he shoots it back at you, sitting down with you. You talk and he listens, eyes never leaving yours until yours slowly draw close and having not noticed how close he moved till your head rested on his shoulders and he pulled a blanket over you both.

CrushBakugou, who after waking up with you on the sofa was red in the face and grumbling, trying to carefully slip your body off his chest and leave only for you to stir and him going still as some early riser classmates drift into the kitchen. Kirishima of course grinning at his friend who has obviously been crushing on you since those cookies.

Boyfriend Bakugou who is proud you gained your hero license. A small smile on his face as you bounced on your heels in front of him as you proudly showed your card off, forgetting that he didn’t gain his.

Boyfriend Bakugou who brings your favourite home cooked meals to your study sessions in the your dorm. Bakugou who stays up explaining things to you to make sure you get top results to you get scouted by a good hero.

Boyfriend Bakugou who watches you sleep, brushing the hair from your face and pulling you tighter into his arms, content to have some form of comfort to ease him, loving when after training all week you massage his sore back and muscles, always putting extra moisturiser on his calloused hands.

[curiouser--and--curiouser]

"If you don't stop-" | James Wilson x Reader

Fictober 2023 Day 14 - "If you don't stop-"

James Wilson x gender netural!Reader

Warnings: flirting, some sexual references, no use of Y/N, James being a simp

A hospital reception isn’t a most thought-of setting for a flashy poker tournament, but the gathering of hospital staff and supporters alike dressed to the nines in suits and gowns certainly helped create a little slice of Vegas.

You were no exception; your own evening wear clung delightfully to your body as you strolled around the room. You clutched two glasses of champagne as you peered through the sea of faces: Chase was lounged against a table as he attempted to chat up his newest conquest, Foreman was hiding his laugh behind his hand at Chase’s romantic desperation, and Cameron had already walked back into the crowd with exasperation at her colleagues.

But none of them was who you were looking for.

Somewhere among the crowd of happy poker players was your boyfriend, James Wilson. Any opportunity to play poker with House (and raise money for charity, of course) Wilson would take and so you scanned over the green tables until, eventually, you found him.

James’s brow was furrowed more intensely than during one of his consults as he glared down at his cards. And his brow furrowed further has House leaned over with his trademarked childish grin with some devious attempt to put his friend off. A shout from Lisa Cuddy broke the two apart, her impressive stack of chips more than signifying her eagerness to play. They all looked so charming in their bow ties and dress respectively, James the most so: he was alluring in his fitted tuxedo, entirely at home in suave and sophisticated finery. He’d been looking forward to this night for weeks and you couldn’t wait to spend it with him.

You started walking over to the trio as Dr House looked up at you and nudged Wilson in the side. James’s eyes flitted up to you and he was immediately transfixed. His gaze followed you like a moth to the flame as you walked towards him, as smooth as the swaying jazz in the background. James’s eyes ran up and down your body unabashedly with a small boyish smile to himself. If he could linger in every single inch of your body he would, worshiping the sight like a holy man to his only vice. Slowly, he dragged his eyes back to your beaming smile as your rounded the poker table to his side. You reached down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek and as you pulled away, he followed into your warmth. James’s eyes remained closed for a moment, breathing deeply into your scent. As you greeted him, he replied with a high-pitched, almost pained sigh and a whisper.

“I really hate you.”

You were taken aback for a second. You looked down at your boyfriend with an incredulous smile.

“Oh, love you too, babe,” you replied, sarcastically. James’s brain suddenly kicked out of its daze as he reached up to stroke your hip.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he apologised quickly. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just- you look- you’re absolutely stunning… But I still hate you.” He could be such an enigma sometimes.

“Why? What have I done?”

“You’re being very… distracting,” James’s eyes flicked to your lips for a second. Your head fell back as your let out a laugh.

“You’re usually fine with me being distracting,” you said, faux-innocently, using your height advantage to lean over James as your body pressed into his. Even an untrained eye could see his held breath at the touch of your body against his.

“Yes, I’ve seen you be very distracting through the windows of Wilson’s office,” House teased around the cigar between his lips. Your head whipped around like a flash to meet a wink from House as Wilson coughed and spluttered at his friend.

“What?! I thought the curtains were closed!”

“You did what in Wilson’s office?” Cuddy interrogated with disbelief from across the table as you and your equally-guilty boyfriend blushed a deep crimson.

“Anyway…” you rushed to change the subject from your less-than-professional sex life. But that didn’t have to be the end of your fun. “I got you a drink, James.” You bent forwards to place your second glass of champagne down on the table and unashamedly pressed your chest into James’s face as you leaned in. His eyes closed in a dizzy state of bliss.

“If you don’t stop now-“ James warned, lowly.

“Stop what, baby?” you replied coyly, brushing your fingers through your boyfriend’s coiffed hair just how he liked it.

“Please,” James let out in a whine. Just then, you spotted Cameron waving to you from across the room. Suddenly, you stood up straight, righted your dress and pressed a deep kiss to James’s lips. You ripped a low moan from his chest as you pulled away all too soon.

“Bye, babe. Good luck!” You winked as you quickly ran off in search of your friend, leaving James Wilson knowing this would be a long night.

[neon-junkie]

The Tower

Summary: Gasping for air, unsteady hands, blurred vision - Why did this have to occur during the midst of battle?

At least Tech knows how to help.

Word count: 1.7k

Pairing: Tech x GN!Reader. Can be read as platonic or romantic.

Tags: Panic attacks, Anxiety attacks, Angst, Comfort, Happy ending.

Notes: I've had maaaaany requests for some angsty comfort with Tech. About time I wrote it! Based on my favourite tarot card - The Tower.

When the tower begins to crumble, it's bound to fall.

Built on an uneasy foundation, it was only so long until your walls began to chip away, and with it, the rest of the structure started to collapse.

And whilst you are somewhat used to that sensation, you're not used to this out-of-place timing.

"We'll regroup at the Marauder," Hunter's voice comes through your comm, strapped to your wrist. Tech is the first to reply, mumbling a swift, "affirmative," before returning his full focus to his blasters. He is, as always, quick and precise with them, saving ammunition until he's certain that his shot will be a hit - a trait that he's picked up from one of his brothers.

One by one, the droids fall, and whilst this is child's play, you seem to be struggling.

There's a pain in your chest, a weight, gripping at your lungs and crushing them from the inside out. Your hands, often steady with your weapon, are jittering more and more as every moment passes. And your throat fails to relax, causing your breaths to become shorter, faster, until your head begins to spin from lack of oxygen.

Knowing that you need a moment - a brief moment to set your bearings straight - you duck behind a crate and press your back up against it, barely looking up to watch Tech finish off what's left of your opponents.

This brief moment blurs on for an eternity, and the more that time passes, the worse you become. Your knees come up to press against your chest, palms gripping onto your weapon, as if it's somehow going to steady you during this emotional ride. The sound of your name being called out to you fades from your ears, and a ringing takes its place.

That is, until a firm hand finds your shoulder, and you flinch.

"Oh," Tech sighs, his fingers flexing shut as he watches your eyes meet his. Reddened cheeks, wide pupils, tears threatening to spill from your waterline - something isn't right, but it doesn't take a genius like Tech to realise that.

Rather than placing his hand on you again, Tech speaks your name in a soft tone. "Are you alright?" he brings the important question to light, and from your silent response, he takes it that the answer is no.

Once more, Tech mutters your name, and he's extremely cautious as he gently wraps his hand around your bicep, attempting to offer you some form of stability. "Are you hurt?" Tech questions, and to his surprise, you manage to shake your head.

"Alright," Tech nods, calm and patient. He pauses, his eyes wandering over your form, analysing the state that you're in. By now, you're sobbing, but there's still a washed glisten of fear in your vision, as if you're staring down at your worst nightmare - an imaginary ghost that he cannot see.

Tech crouches down, positioning himself on one knee by your side. His thumb subconsciously begins to rub back and forth against your arm. "I think I understand what's happening," Tech comments. "Although, I do not know how to help. If I can be of any assistance, then please, inform me how."

Sniffles fill the air after you suck in a few deep breaths. "I don't know," your words merge into one, but Tech manages to make them out.

"We need to remove you from this environment," Tech decides, forming the first steps of his recovery mission. "May I take your hand?" he offers.

Tech's heart softens out as you slide your hand into his, allowing him to pull you up with ease. You're a jittering mess, that much is obvious as Tech wraps your arm around his, and begins guiding you out of this hellhole. Thank the Maker that your opponents are down, else that would only worsen things.

"Our safest place is the Marauder. Are you comfortable with me comming Hunter, and asking him to pick us up?"

You instantly nod, knowing that the Marauder brings you a feeling of warmth and security. "But I don't want the others to see me like this," you blurt out, and Tech simply nods his head with understanding.

"Of course," he confirms. "I will lead us onto the shuffle, and keep the others distracted whilst you retreat to your private quarters. I'll inform the others that you need assistance, but sway them from interfering. From there, I'll join you, and we will set our next steps to recovery."

Tech follows up his plan with a simple, "how does that sound?" and lets out a pleasant hum when you agree to it. From there, his plan begins springing into motion, and before you know it, the Marauder is coming into your line of sight with the cockpit door lowered.

As always, Wrecker is waiting at the doorway with his hand extended, always eager to help you on board, but Tech politely pushes past and begins muttering something under his breath. Through Wrecker's fully armoured form, you can tell that he's taken aback, but backs off unquestionably, allowing you to scurry past and disappear down the hallway.

The second that you reach your dorm, the downpour of your tears breaks out into a thunder, and you barely manage to shrug off your coat and shoes before curling up into your bunk.

It takes Tech exactly twenty-three seconds before he's entering your dorm without a knock, seeing as you consented to it beforehand. "Oh dear," he coos as he enters, and his hand hovers over the lock before questioning, "shall I lock it?"

"No, thank you," you shake your head at the same time, and with it, Tech eases off.

A tall glass of water is placed on your bedside table, almost overflowing with how close the water is reaching the rim. Tech takes a seat beside you, and a hand comes to rest on your forearm. To his surprise, you shrug it off, only to wrap your hands around his waist in a desperate attempt for comfort. Tech accepts you, cradling you against his chest, hushing you in a soft tone.

"Let it all out," Tech coos, comforting you as the tears continue to fall. His hands stroke and grasp at your back, attempting to provide as much comfort as he can. Tech is somewhat familiar with this subject, although it's been a long time since he's ever had to support it, and an even longer time since he has received such support.

Tech's last occurrence was back when he was a Cadet. One of his fellow brothers broke down into a state of panic, and Tech, being the sweetheart that he has always been, could only hug them as the moment passed. 

Since the war broke out, it's rare to find a moment for your emotions to overspill, seeing as everyone is always up on their feet - Troopers and Jedi alike. You’re no stranger to the sight of seeing men hunched over at the end of battle, their form exhausted, stress lines present on their skin, and a look of desperation in their eyes. Perhaps they have also noticed that in you. 

The hard form of Tech's chest armour lies pressed against your cheek, and only when your panicked state starts to relax, do you realise how uncomfortable the plastoid surface is. With an uncomfortable expression, you move your head away, gazing up at Tech with tear filled eyes.

"It appears my armour has left its mark," Tech comments, earning a soft laugh from you.

"Remind me to never cry into your armour again," you swat back. Your hand trails over the indent left on your cheek, and for whatever reason, that pulls you from your dark thoughts.

Warm eyes meet yours, still laced with concern, his brows raised accordingly. “I will bear it in mind, if the… incident ever occurs again.” 

“I hope it doesn’t,” you state with a sigh. The sides of your fists come up to rub your eyes, attempting to fresh the life up in them. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” you apologise, your hands now finding comfort in your lap, fingertips fidgeting with each other.

“Do not apologise,” Tech responds with sternness. “Please, I will never accept your apology for something like that.” 

You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “Message received,” you say with a smile. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen again.” 

“And if it does, you know I will always be here to assist you. I am… no stranger to what just happened,” Tech explains, his eyes drifting from yours as his shoulders soften. Now, you’re no longer the saddest person in the room. 

“Care to share?” you question. 

“Ah, well-” Tech waves his hands as his back straightens. “It is not my information to share, but I can inform you that I have seen this happen before. Multiple times, really. Being a Cadet was never easy…” 

Your hand comes to rest on his forearm, a gesture that is not left unnoticed. “I’m sorry,” is all you can sigh. 

“Did I not just inform you to never apologise for such things?” Tech responds in a firm tone, yet there’s a playful smile on his lips. You mimic his expression, soon letting out a laugh. Tech’s hand rests atop of yours, giving you a firm squeeze before suggesting, “shall we go and see the others? Wrecker especially looked awfully concerned about you.” 

“Yes,” you agree with a nod. “I wouldn’t want to keep any of them worrying. I’m alright now.” 

“That, you are,” Tech confirms. He rises to his feet, and offers you a hand. You accept it, steadying yourself on uneven legs, your muscles still relaxing after a storm of negativity. 

Before exiting your dorm, Tech lets out a soft, “do not forget your water,” as he holds the door open for you. A glass of water in hand, and you head out to regroup with your squad, your friend close behind, always ready to have your back - if you ever need it.

[cod-thoughts]

So i answered this ask about silly NikPrice headcanons and for one of them i say that Nik collects little trinkets from people. Well i have a list of the trinkets lol i didnt think about sharing it in the ask but i still like this idea so im gonna share it anyway :O

Nikolai is a secret hoarder of little mementos from people he cares about, and his jacket pockets, desk drawers, and even the cockpit of his helicopter are filled with them. Each item has a story, and he wouldn’t part with any of them for the world.

Price: A crumpled scrap of paper with handwritten coordinates from one of their first missions together. Price scrawled them hastily when their comms went down, and Nik has kept it ever since. He claims it’s a reminder to “always be prepared,” but really, it’s because it was the first time Price trusted him with something classified and since then Nik has always been included no matter what.

Soap: A keychain of a tiny plastic haggis that Soap gifted him as a joke. Soap called it “a wee bit of Scotland for your chopper,” and while Nik pretended to scoff, it’s been dangling from his control panel ever since.

Gaz: A dog-eared football trading card that Gaz handed over during a long, boring stakeout. Gaz had found it in his jacket pocket, his nieces and nephews must have left it in there, and thought it might cheer Nik up too. Nik doesn’t even like football that much, but the gesture stuck with him. It's now laminated and sitting in his wallet. (along with a few photos of the team)

Ghost: A single, slightly dented bullet that Ghost handed him after a mission where Nik’s flying had saved them all from being overrun. “One less I had to use,” Ghost had said gruffly, his tone matter-of-fact. Nik knew it wasn’t meant to be sentimental—just a blunt statement of the truth. But he kept the bullet anyway, tucking it away as a quiet reminder of that moment. To Nik, it wasn’t just about saving ammunition; it was about making sure Ghost never had to fire more bullets than absolutely necessary. Because every bullet fired meant Simon was one step closer to not coming back. And if Simon didn’t come back, Nik knew there’d be one less bright smile on Price’s face—and that was a cost Nik wasn’t willing to let them pay.

Laswell: A coffee mug from Laswell that says Best Pilot in the World in bold letters. She sent it to him as a joke after a mission where he barely avoided crashing into the side of a mountain. It has a small chip on the rim now, but he still uses it religiously.

Farah: A woven bracelet from Farah, made by a child in her village. Nik helped transport supplies during a particularly rough time, and she gave it to him as thanks "I was told to give this to the 'big loud man' as thanks". He keeps it in the pocket of his flight jacket, though he wears it sometimes during long flights. He hopes he never stretches it out

Alex: A small, polished stone Alex picked up in the desert during an op. An unlikely place to find such a stone so it must be special. “For luck,” Alex had said with a grin. Nik had laughed but tucked it into his pocket, and it’s still there to this day.

Rudy: A wooden charm in the shape of a Vaquero’s hat that Rudy carved himself. He gave it to Nik after a particularly tense mission, calling it a “thank you for not dropping us out of the sky.” Nik keeps it on a string near the controls of his helicopter next to the frankly horrifying haggis keychain.

Alejandro: A neatly folded piece of cloth embroidered with the Vaqueros’ insignia. Alejandro handed it to Nik as a sign of gratitude after Nik extracted him and Rudy from a particularly sticky situation. Nik uses it to polish his aviators, though he’s careful not to fray it.

Nik knows the team would absolutely take the mickey if they found out how sentimental he gets over these things, so he keeps them tucked away and out of sight. But during long flights or quiet moments, he’ll pull one out and run his thumb over it, letting the memories ground him. It’s his way of holding onto the people he values most, even when they’re scattered across the world.

[quinnysnursery]

i’d really love to see some headcanons of cg!matt taking his little to disneyland for the first time bc they never were able to go as a child :((

[🩹] the most magical place on earth | matt sturniolo one-shot

paring : cg!matt sturniolo x fem!little!reader

summary : y/n's never been to disneyworld, matt thinks it's about time to change that

warning/extra tid-bits : being little in public, mentions of y/n having an unsafe childhood but nothing too serious!! i think that's all :)

word count : 1,599 + not proofread

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (pooh bears from @kodaswrld ,, line from @taurus-magicka)

a/n : apart of @bambisturnioloalt 's NNN event!! ✨

Main Street U.S.A

Your eyes darted around the slightly overstimulating environment. You huddled closer to Matt’s side, trying your best not to have your shoulder bumped in the sea of people. 

“Stay close sweetheart.” Matt reminded, though he knew you didn’t really need the reminder- you hardly ever left his side in the comfort of your own home, you wouldn’t dare wander away inside of Disney World. 

“Dada,” You whisper, quickly causing Matt to turn his full attention to you. “Hm?” He asked, bending down ever so slightly to hear your better. You pointed to a store that was emitting a naturally sweet smell- “Main Street Confectionery”.

Matt smiled warmly at you and your sweet tooth. “Alright, but only because you ate all your breakfast.” He said, you nodded eagerly- briefly reminiscing  on the Mickey-shaped waffles you scarfed down in the hotel room.

The two of you stepped into the confectionery, both of you inhaling in the sweet smell of chocolate and pastries. Matt slowly led you through the aisles of candy, bringing you to the pastry case- a cast member smiled at you both brightly, “Hi! What can I get you two today?” She asked, her name tag reading “Ari”.

You gazed at all the different pastries and treats inside of the glass case. The selection was wide, ranging from cupcakes, cookies, candy apples and a multitude of decorated rice crispy treats. One in particular caught your eye though, a chocolate chip scone in the shape of a Mickey head. 

“That one p’ease!” You smiled brightly, tapping on the glass. Ari nodded, smiling as she quickly pulled on a new pair of gloves before scooping up the scone and placing it into a pastry bag and handing it to you before turning her attention to your caregiver.

“Can I get you anything?” She asked, Matt thought for a moment before shaking his head- knowing he’d steal a few bites from your scone. “Alright! That’ll be 5.29!” She chirped. Matt nodded, pulling out his card and tapping it to the card reader. 

“Have a magical day!” Ari called out, waving goodbye as the two of you walked away. You beamed, turning around on your heel quickly- “Hav’a magical day!” You squealed, looking excitedly at Matt- who’s eyes were full of pure love.

Adventure Land

Walking from Main Street U.S.A to Adventure Land didn’t take long at all- in fact it probably would’ve been quicker had Matt not insisted on stopping to wipe the melted chocolate off of your hands and mouth.

“Okay sweetheart, which ride do you wanna go on?” Matt asked, he knew that the “Pirates of the Caribbean” ride was out of the picture- as it had a drop that neither him nor you felt like concurring on a day that was purely about healing your inner-child. 

You looked at the map that your caregiver had made sure to snag up at the entrance of the park. 

“Let’s see there’s…the jungle cruise…the tiki room…and…aladdin’s magic carpets.” He smiled, showing you where each attraction was on the map. You thought for a moment, squishing your cheek into Matt’s arm as you leaned on him. 

“Mmm…magic ca’pet!” You smiled, bouncing excitedly. Matt smiled, collapsing your hands together once more before beginning to lead you to the Aladdin-themed ride.

The line wasn’t unbearably long. The two of you had planned your trip during that interesting period of time where the weather wasn’t sweltering hot and the lines were short enough- thanks to the holiday crowds not flocking the park just yet.

“How many in your party?” The cast member in charge of the line asked, you glanced up at Matt- shuffling behind him slightly. “Two.” He smiled, rubbing your arm in a soothing manner. 

The cast member, who’s name-tag read “Madi”, nodded- waiting for the current passengers on the ride to completely exit. 

“Do you want a sticker, hun?” Madi smiled, digging into her pocket and pulling out some Jasmine and Aladdin themed stickers- tearing one off and offering it to the little.

Matt looked towards Y/n, gently nodding to reassure her it was okay. You nodded softly, squeaking out a quiet “Thank ‘ou!” as you took the sticker- shoving it into your pocket.

“Oh! Looks like you two are up! Have fun, enjoy your ride!” Madi grinned, opening the gate and letting the couple walk in. You dragged Matt over to one of the ride’s vehicles- quickly shuffling in. 

It didn’t take long for the ride to begin, the magic carpets lifting into the air- causing you to cling to Matt a bit tighter, but giggle nonetheless.

“Should we move the lever?” Matt smiled, motioning to the lever that would allow you to move your carpet higher or lower as you pleased. You nodded excitedly, watching as Matt lifted the lever higher- in turn making your magic carpet fly higher than the others. 

You squealed with happiness, hands flapping excitedly as you a warm feeling spread throughout your heart. This was all you’d ever wanted as a child, and as Matt watched your face light up- he couldn’t be more grateful that he was the person who got to help your dreams come true.

Fantasy Land

Fantasy Land had been the area you were most excited to visit, all for one singular reason.

A plump yellow bear famously known as “Winnie the Pooh”. 

You’d been a fan of the bear and his group of friends since your childhood, he was one of the few comfort sources that you had access to and even after getting away from your family- you still loved the yellow bear.

Matt shared your love for Winnie the Pooh- in fact, it was one of the first things the two of you bonded over when you first met. So when you began looking into visiting Disney world with your caregiver there was thing that took precedence above everything else.

Meeting the beloved bear.

That’s what currently had you, anxiously breathing in line to meet the Pooh. The meet and greet spot was right outside of his ride, but due to the quick turns and darker lightening- you decided to pass on the ride this trip. 

…Only after Matt promised you could both come back to the theme park before the year was up.

Nonetheless, you were about three groups away from meeting your childhood hero and god, you couldn’t help but be filled with nervous excitement. 

Matt, of course, noticed this- wrapping you in a tight bearhug and pressing a gentle kiss into your hair. “Deep breaths,” He hummed, rubbing soothing circles into your back.

Matt knew how much this meant to you. How much Winnie the Pooh had been a source of comfort- a source of safety for you in your chaotic-like childhood. Even now in your adult-life, you still decorated you and Matt’s apartment with that silly yellow bear- claiming he just “made you smile”. 

Matt didn’t mind, you smiling made him smile. 

Your eyes widened even more as you realized it was your turn. Matt got out his phone to videotape as you cautiously approached the bear, beaming with excitement. 

Embarrassingly (at least, embarrassingly to you), you felt tears bud in your eyes as the bear pulled you into a tight hug- swaying back and forth playfully. Matt noticed this as well, feeling proud tears gloss over his eyes- he knew he’d never be able to heal everything you’d gone through, but he was proud of how far you’d both come so far.

Pooh Bear tapped his nose to your cheek and motioned as if he was wiping away your tears. You smiled brightly, using the sleeves of your yellow sweater to wipe them away. 

You giggled, going back in for one last hug before turning to Matt- allowing him to take a few photos.

“D’you guys want me to get one of the three of you?” The character-attendee asked- their name-tag reading ‘Comet’ offering up their hand for Matt’s phone. You nodded eagerly, waving Matt over. 

Your caregiver quickly handed the castmember his phone and joining both you and the bear- matching toothy smiles on you and your caregivers face as Comet snapped a multitude of pictures.

You got a final hug from your childhood-hero before quickly dragging Matt into the Winnie the Pooh themed giftshop- immediately gravitating towards the plushie aisle.

“Wasn’t he so sweet?” Matt asked, earning an eager nod from you. You were practically buzzing thanks to all the positive feelings that came from meeting the big yellow bear. “Uh-huh! Da’ sweetest like hon’e!” You giggled, Matt couldn’t help but let out a low coo.

“Okay baby, pick out any stuffie- Dada’s treat.” Matt decided, you let out a squeal, hugging Matt tightly before saying, “T’ank ‘ou!”

You browsed the plush shelf for a few moments- there were a few weighted plushies, a collection of plushies that were meant to replicate the original artstyle but there was one stuffed bear that captured your heart almost immediately. 

A medium sized winnie the pooh plush, wearing a onesie that was designed to look like his beloved friend, tigger. You quickly picked him up off of the shelf- hugging his soft boy close to your chest before shoving him mere inches in Matt’s face.

“Dis’ one!” You beamed before remembering your manners, “P’ease!” 

Matt smiled, “Alright sweetheart, let’s go pay.” He said, leading you to the cashier.

That night, you curled up in your cozy hotel bed- plush bear curled up tightly in your arms- satisfied with your visit to the most magical place on earth.

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friendly reminder that stealing isn't cute, credit me if you take inspiration from my works 😊🪄

[yanderes-galore]

What do you think of this idea for a scenario? Reader losing their soul to Overlord! Husk in a poker game. It will be amazing if the reader starts as arrogant, thinking they can beat the cat in his own game. Then, after an intense match, their confidence turns to fear and regret when Husk puts the last card on the table and shows that he has won.

Warning, I know NOTHING about poker, so this might be short as I can't do any specifics :( Yet I hope I get my point across.

House Always Wins

Yandere! Overlord! Husker Scenario

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Ownership, Soul deals, Forced relationship implied.

Gambling is a pass time for many demons. Greed breeds arrogance and many Sinners tend to show off at the casino. You were no different...

Poker's your favorite game.

Money is a common thing to bet. You've bet tons of it and been confident in your craft. You've won many games... It's all just a fun game.

But, of course, greed drives people to get addicted...

You needed to up the stakes.

For a long time you have been trying to get yourself to Overlord status. Demons naturally crave power. Sinners wish to become Overlords... Overlords wish to become stronger...

It's a social ladder.

Confidence is such a poisonous emotion. It only brings in trouble to those who have too much of it. Having a little isn't too bad... but too much can cloud your judgment.

Husker could practically smell you as a potential challenge.

Husker had been hearing rumors of a Sinner trying to make it big in the casino. He's an Overlord who frequents this place and considers it his territory in a way. So the idea of someone else being a threat to his title...

He certainly felt he should look into it.

During your games you had always felt you had eyes on you. Your feelings were confirmed when you turned one day to see Husker watching you with intrigued eyes. He enjoys watching your games, shuffling his cards thoughtfully as his tail sways.

What a tantalizing Sinner you are... acting like you run the place....

If you want to move up in Hell's social ladder, challenging an Overlord is certainly the way to go. The idea of power... of feeding your ego... it's a temptation sweeter than any vice. As tension grows between you and the Overlord... you feel as though you're being drawn in...

Eventually, you get up from your seat, strolling to the Overlord's table before leaning on the table.

"How about we play a game?"

A bold move coming from you... dangerous too.... However, Husker didn't mind. You looked like a fun prize to toy with.

"How about we make it a deal, then?" Husker's voice is a purr as he considers your offer. You merely grin back, confidence flowing through your veins with no drinks needed.

Or... not many.

"If you win, I'll give you my soul... If I win I get your title as Overlord."

It's a bold deal, one that makes Husker laugh. Eventually he calms down, shaking your hand lightly before gesturing to sit. He could tell you were confident...

Too confident, actually.

Your naiveté is adorable.

"A fine deal... Hope you provide a good challenge to back up all that talk." Husker chuckles, readjusting his suit as he watches you sit. "Make this worth my while, will you?"

It's then chips are put out... cards are placed...

Then the game begins.

Husker finds your arrogance adorable. There's times he himself feels this way when it comes to gambling. However... He knows how to control himself for the most part...

You do not.

You are such a fun challenge for the cat. He's been trying to see how challenging you'd be since he first saw you. Now he's quite pleased to see you in action...

Even more pleased to see your confidence slowly crumble as he beats you round after round.

Each round Husker manages to slap down the winning hand. Each round he takes more chips. Each round you begin to realize what you signed up for.

"Cat got your tongue?" The Overlord in front of you teases, leaning on the table as you struggle to look at your hand. "Where's all that confidence gone? You have such a cute look on your face when you think you're going to win...."

By the last round, you can't even bring yourself to watch as Husk puts down the last card. It's a winning hand and you know it. You can hear Husker chuckle at your sudden meek behavior...

You know what comes next...

Especially when you feel a chain click around your neck, Husker looking all proud of himself.

"According to my deal, you get to be my prize." Husker grins, fangs glinting as he yanks on the soul chain.

"It was a good game, don't you think? Always great to exploit over confident fools... You put up a good fight though." Husker praises as you're brought close to him.

"Thanks for playing..." Husker purrs, claws caressing your cheek as though he's studying a precious gem...

"I think I'll enjoy my new prize, darling."