#Single Head Capping Machine

[adinathinternationalindia]

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[vivwritesfics]

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Nine - Flying

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.3K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Series Masterlist

Y/N and Milo arrived at Daniel's house in the early hours of the morning. She had a small suitcase, lightly packed with her clothes, and an even smaller one for Milo.

Milo wore the AlphaTauri hat as they waited outside of the house. He was jumping on the spot, one hand held in his mothers and the other holding his small suitcase. "Momma, I can't wait!" He cheered and Y/N squeezed his hands.

It was a hard decision. Y/N hadn't agreed to this while completely sober. But Y/N spoke to her boss about taking a few vacation days and left everything for Daniel to organise (per his request).

It was the Miami Grand Prix. Daniel had spoken to somebody to get Y/N a pass and somewhere for her and Milo to sleep. She hadn't told anybody that they were coming with him; it was going to be a surprise.

Dressed comfortably for travelling, Daniel pulled open the door. This time he wasn't wearing a cap, and Y/N could see his curls. His lovely curls. "Hi Milo," he said and held out his fist.

Milo bumped his fist against his as he walked past him, into the house. "Olivia's in her bedroom!" Daniel called after him. Milo dropped his hold of his bag and started up the stairs, heading towards Olivia's bedroom.

Y/N followed Milo inside. "Hey," she said and greeted Daniel with a hug. "Are we heading off soon?"

"Just having a coffee and then yeah," he said and pushed the door shut behind her.

She left her suitcase by the door (dragging Milo's back over to hers) and followed Daniel into the kitchen. He used his coffee machine to make Y/N a drink and leaned against the island as they drank. "Thank you so much for this," she said as she held the mug in both hands. "Milo is so excited that he might literally explode."

Daniel smiled. That was why he was doing this, because Milo would love it. Sure, it was going to be so freaking cool to have Y/N there, but that would have been selfish of him.

They made idle conversation as they drank their coffees. As soon as they were finished, Y/N and Daniel loaded their bags into the car. They went upstairs to grab the kids, Daniel helping Olivia finish with packing her bags as Y/N adjusted Milo's cap on his head and picked him up.

Before they knew it they were on the road, Daniel singing along to his music as Y/N bounced her leg nervously. In the back of the car, Milo and Olivia watched a movie on an iPad.

Y/N knew Daniel was rich. She knew he was famous, too, had seen the crowds at the race that she'd watched on the television. But she'd never expected him to be private jet rich and famous.

It wasn't his private jet, instead one he rented from a company. But he didn't fail to inform her that his friend Max had his own.

It was Milo's first time flying, and he was terrified. Olivia had been telling him all about take off, and that was enough to have him crawling into his mothers lap the moment they were sat on the plane.

"Oh Munchkin," she whispered as she smoothed down his hair. She would have gone to get his favourite teddy bear for him, to try and comfort him, but the bear was stuff down into the deep recesses of her bag, inaccessible for the time being. "It's okay. Momma's got you."

Olivia had been flying for her entire life. She was used to it; it no longer phased her. For this flight, she'd been looking forward to sitting beside her best friend, watching movies with him as they took off across the world. But she couldn't do that for the time being, so she sat in her fathers lap, holding onto Snuffles, her bunny teddy.

As they got onto the runway, and Milo was in near hysterics, Daniel whispered something in Olivia's ear. "But daddy," she mumbled and Daniel held his finger to his lip. Olivia let out a little huff and adjusted how she was sitting to be facing Milo.

She leaned over and tapped on his shoulder. Milo didn't pull his face away from his mothers shoulder, but he turned to face her, ears staining his cheeks. "Here," Olivia said, handing Snuffles to him.

Hesitantly, Milo reached for Snuffles. He took him from Olivia and pulled him into his chest. "What do we say, Milo?" Y/N asked gently.

"Thank you," Milo whispered, squeezing Snuffles even tighter.

They took off and Milo continued to cry, but he kept squeezing Snuffles. Before he knew it they were in the air, flying smoothly. Milo pulled away from his mother and Olivia hopped out of her fathers lap. They found their own seats and Daniel brought over Olivia's iPad for the two of them to watch a movie.

"I can't believe Milo's never flown before," Daniel said to Y/N as they sipped their drinks.

Y/N looked past him, her guilty face turned towards the window of the sleek private plane. "Yeah? Well, we've never been able to afford it before. But that was really kind of Olivia to give up her teddy."

Daniel smiled at that. His little girl really was special. "Now, you've got this entire journal to tell me everything about Formula One," she said as she leaned back in her seat.

It was a challenge, one Daniel happily took on. He didn't explain everything, of course - there wasn't enough time for that. He told her as much as she could, and only as much as she needed to know.

"Make sure you're rooting for the number three car, because that's me," he said.

She knew that one, knew she was supposed to be rooting for Daniels car.

"It's a street circuit," he explained. "Which means it uses public roads. But this one is a little different. It is a street circuit, but it uses roads from around the stadium in Miami. I'll take you and Milo to a real street circuit one day," he said, but that last part was rather quiet.

"Okay so I know about the track, I know what the teams are, kind of, and I know who to root for. Who are Milo and I not supposed to root for?" She asked, stretching her legs out in front of her.

"Everybody else," Daniel answered, but he had an inflection to his voice, signalling it was a joke.

Y/N just laughed along with him. He launched into telling her all about the Grand Prix that the USA hosted, from the Miami Grand Prix, to the Vegas Grand Prix and the Circuit of the Americas. "That's my favourite of them all," he said. "I have a house out there, but I haven't been in a while," he explained. "It's hard when Olivia's mother refuses to let me have more than a week with her."

"Hang on," Y/N began. "How many houses do you have?"

Daniel launched into another explanation. And then he promised to take her to his place in Monaco at some point.

"That would be lovely," she said as she sipped her drink.

She looked past him again, looking towards the window. Around them was clouds, but they were beautiful. Y/N couldn't stop herself from getting out of her chair and walking over to the window, getting onto her knees to look out of it.

"Here," Daniel said as he scooted over in his seat, leaving a space for her.

Y/N gladly took the seat. She was half on the seat and half on his lap, but neither of them seemed to mind. Daniel had his arm wrapped around her, but only because that was the most comfortable way for him to sit.

"Thank you for this," she muttered once again as she leaned back, resting against his shoulder.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lillians-world-is-f1 @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @teamnovalak @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

[rogersideup]

I'd like to drop a prompt:

The avengers have a night off in Las Vegas after a mission. Thor makes sure Cap has his fair share of Asgardian liquor so Steve ends up drunk and wanders off alone. He meets our dear reader who just got dumped by her friend group and is equally drunk. They hit it off and decide to get married. The next morning both of them are confused but decide to make it work as memories of the night before come back to them. (Surprise surprise dear reader is from New York too)

‧₊˚✧⚁⁠♧777♤⚄✧˚₊‧

Steve Rogers X Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Steve gets himself into some trouble while having a night off in the city of sin.

Word Count: 4,717

Warning: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

"Miss?"

Flashing lights separated and splayed through the drying tears in your watery eyes, music and ringing from hundreds of slot machines overstimulated your senses as you simultaneously pulled your dress up and down in different places.

"Excuse me miss? Can I get you something to drink?"

Coming back to your senses, you turned around to face the bartender. "Yeah, uh..." really, you tried your hardest to think of something, literally anything to help move along the buzz you were already riding but no proper words made it to your brain. "Sorry. I'm not sure what I want. Can you just make it strong and fruity?"

"Sure thing." The bartender agreed, already grabbing bottles off the shelf.

Watching him masterfully work helped you zone out and relieved all of your overwhelmed senses. Pouring, shaking, more pouring, a garnish, then a fruity elixir of a bunch of liquids you most definitely could not pronounce was placed right in front of you atop a cocktail napkin. Not a single drop was spilled, even the ice was perfect.

Reaching into your purse, you handed the bartender your card and shouted to try and compete with the volume of drunken gamblers and rolling dice. "You can close the tab."

"Don't worry about it. This one's on the house, you look like you need it." He kindly denied your form of payment.

You chuckled to yourself. "That bad, huh?"

"No, but I know a sad chick when I see one." He noted. "Happens pretty often in Vegas."

"Well, thank you, I appreciate it." You raised the glass. "Cheers to you and all the bartenders making the world go round."

"Amen to that" He smiled before walking off to serve yet another drunken customer.

You sat at the bar on a little leather stool fully contemplating how you ended up in this situation as you looked out into the hotel casino and nursed your drink. It didn't take long for you to realize that the Vegas bartenders didn't take the word strong as a joke. Because every sip stung your throat and swirled your thoughts around in slow motion.

The speed at which your thoughts came at you didn't help the fact that every single one of them revolved around nothing but yourself.

What were you going to do now? Where should you go from here?

Drinking wasn't the answer, but not drinking wasn't the solution. Finding shelter in the Caesars Palace hotel was a good enough temporary fix to your problems, so you ignored that you were on the complete opposite side of the Las Vegas strip that you actually needed to be on.

However, getting to your hotel on the complete opposite side was the problem. Your shitty friends completely ditched you, or maybe you ditched them. The details were all so unclear, but the fact was they were all making stupid choices and you couldn't stand to stick around long enough to see the end results of them.

But now you were all done up in high heels and a small little dress in a city you had never been in before, notorious for sex, drugs and alcohol. Luckily, pepper spray in your purse and a back pocket full of self defense techniques that have been drilled into your head ever since you were a little girl were amongst some of the better choices you made tonight.

Then came along all of the dumber choices you would make tonight in the form of yet another fruity drink, and a tall, blonde man looking painfully confused at the roulette table right in front of you.

He was tall and broad, even more handsome than the massive statues of Roman men all around the hotel. But much like the statues around you, he looked like he was carved from marble. The muscles you could see sculpted through his suit jacket could've only been a result of a piece of fine art.

It was easy to pick up his wholesome sweetness behind his big blue eyes, that also did a lot to tell you how drunk the man was. He towered over the table and watched a few rounds, trying his hardest to understand what was happening. Much like him, you watched the ball spin round and round before landing in a slot.

Some of the players would moan and groan at their fate, while others would cheer happily and exchange loud laughter and high-fives.

Mesmerized by the game, you missed the glances the blonde man snuck of you. He really couldn't help it though. His friends had left him all alone while his capacity to make good decisions was at an all time low, and you were just so pretty and maybe a bit sad.

Another round was about to start, so the dealer started taking bets. Everyone around the table started placing their chips on a color and number, and the blonde was still confused.

He looked around again before his eyes met yours, and a stupid invasive smile smeared across your lips. When he noticed your friendly demeanor, he took a few stumbles over to you.

"Do you have any idea how to play this?" The man asked you.

Now you could smell the expensive yet deliciously pleasant cologne he was wearing, and you could take in all the details of his black suit.

Giggling at his cluelessness, you swallowed down the sip of cocktail in your mouth. "I do. Would you like some help?"

"I'm assuming you have to guess if the ball lands on red or black?" He asked as his lopsided smile and squinted eyes told you everything you needed to know about his sobriety... or lack there of.

"That's exactly it, good job." You nodded. "But you can also guess the number, or a group of numbers it'll land on. The payout at the end is based on how accurate your bet is."

"So what should I bet?" He asked you, having already built a strong sense of trust for you in the few minutes he had been observing.

"Oh no, that's not up to me." You shook your head before taking another sip of your drink. "You gotta trust your own gut."

The man's eyes darted around the table once more before his arms motioned to it. "But look around! All of these men have pretty girls telling them what to do, and that's why they're all winning money. You guys are so much smarter than us, and I'm alone so I need you to tell me. Red or black."

Usually, a statement like that from a man like him would have you rolling your eyes and cutting the conversation short. However, either your gut or the alcohol was telling you that he wasn't an asshole.

For some reason, you felt calm and comfortable in his presence all while being unable to wipe the dumb smile off your face. Something about his hair that was once perfectly styled now being a little jostled, and the twinge of pink in his cheeks made him seem so distantly familiar.

"Well thank you for that backhanded compliment." You laughed. "I think you should bet red."

He nodded, trusting your opinion far more than he trusted himself. "Should I place a more specific bet too?"

You thought for a moment, but you were in Vegas so... fuck it. "Yeah. Give me your chip"

The man happily placed the roulette chip into your hand, you stood up in one big sweep and started walking away from the bar. "Woah, don't leave your drink!"

Pleasantly surprised that he had your best interest in mind, you mumbled out a statement of gratitude as he handed the glass to you too. Approaching the table, looked at it for a few moments and tried your hardest to contemplate the best number to place a bet on, but once again no rational thoughts occupied the empty spaces of your brain.

So, you threw the chip on your favorite number, lucky 25.

"There ya go!" You used your free hand to pat the man's shoulder. "Good luck, Blondie."

"What happens if I win?" He asked you, smiling as you let your hand linger. Even with your highest heels on, you were nowhere near as tall as him.

"Then it's your lucky day, and you'll get a shit ton of money." You giggled at his question.

"And if I lose?"

"Then you're unlucky and you're about to lose some money." You snorted.

"That's not going to happen, you're my good luck charm." He declared.

"I don't think anything about my night tonight is radiating lucky energy, so I doubt that."

"What? No way! I feel like I've been the luckiest guy in the whole world today, so maybe I'm your good luck charm."

"I guess we will let the roulette wheel speak the truth of the universe tonight." You shrugged.

"Should we place our own bets on the bet?" The man asked.

"Like what?" You questioned, hoping this wasn't the moment the sweet stranger turned weird and pervy.

"I think if I lose I should probably call it a night and go back to my room because this is the drunkest I've been in probably 80 years." He stated. However, his words flew over your head figuring his drunken words were exaggerated, and you found yourself to be a little sad that your time with the stranger would be cut short so soon.

"I think if you win, you should stay out for a little while and have another drink with me." You smiled, going way out of your own comfort zone.

If you were sober, or maybe even drunk in a bar anywhere other than Las Vegas, you would've been caught dead before being caught to be so bold. But he was pulling you in faster than you've ever felt, and something about him felt so natural and warm.

"Deal." He agreed.

"Look, they're about to spin the wheel." You pointed at the table.

The dealer spun the wheel, and the ball was moving so fast that you could barely even follow it. Even as it slowed down and started to tease each individual slot, the motion of following the sphere going round and round was quite honestly making you a bit dizzy, so you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation.

"No way." The blonde stated. "No fucking way!"

His arm wrapped around you from behind and his big warm hands very gently shook the tops of your arms. "Look! It's on red! I can't see the number, but it's on red!"

You giggled and tried your best to keep your balance as he shook you around. When you opened your eyes you could see that the drink in your hand was sloshing around and spilling over onto the impeccably maintained carpet beneath your feet. But the loss of some of your drink was a small price to pay when the dealer picked the ball up out of the wheel and announced "25 Red!"

Simultaneously, you and Blondie let out little screeches in surprise and joy when you realized you had actually placed a winning bet. In all your years on this planet, nothing like this had ever happened to you. You never even won $5 on a penny slot, let alone a fat wad of cash that was being placed into the man's hands.

After the cheering celebration and laughter died down, he turned to you. "See! I knew you were lucky!"

"You trusted your intuition, and you won!" You noted with a smile so big and long lasting it was starting to make your cheeks sore. "Good job."

"Here! This is yours." He placed the wad of cash in your hands.

"What? No. You bet your own money, it's yours." Not being able to accept it, especially when you saw it was all $100 bills.

"No it's yours! You placed the winning bet, you knew the magic number so I want you to have it." He explained kindly. "You said nothing about your night was lucky, so consider this your sign from the universe."

"I can't just accept all of this money from a complete stranger." You denied once more. "You're very sweet, I would feel so guilty taking this from you."

"Fine, if you can't accept the money for yourself, how about we go spend it together?" He offered. "I owe you another drink anyways, then after that the Las Vegas strip is our oyster!"

"That's a little better" You agreed with a smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't even get your name."

"O-oh!" The man seemed to be taken back by that statement for a second. A look of momentary confusion furrowed his eyebrows before a happy smile returned to his kind face. "Sorry, I'm Steve!"

You made a small mental note of his initial shock that you asked for his name, but your drunken brain didn't hold onto that for very long.

"Alright Steve, here's the plan." You rocked up on your tippy toes and kept yourself braced with a steady hand on his solid shoulder so he could hear you better in the loud and chaotic environment. "Half my drink just ended up on the floor when you won, so I'm going to order another one. Then after that, I somehow need to end the night at my hotel on the complete opposite end of the strip without getting taken or murdered. So if we can somehow make it from here to there while blowing through that money you just won, then I'd be more than happy to help you spend it."

Steve's eyes went wide in concern at your statement. "Where are you staying?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "My gut is telling me not to tell a strange man where I'm staying."

"Smart girl, but I'm not letting you walk down the strip alone at night. The people here are crazy." He challenged. "No funny business. Pinky promise."

Steve raised his pinky for you with a genuine look of promise and concern on his face. "Do people often trust you to get them to safety?"

His cheeks turned pinker, and he let out an adorable giggle. "Yeah, I think most people find me to be very trustworthy."

"No funny business." You lifted your hand and wrapped your pinky around his with a quick handshake. "I'm staying at New York, New York."

"Oh wow, we have a long way to go with lots of chances to blow through that stack." He smiled. "What are you drinking? I'll order you another one."

"Honestly, I have no idea." You admitted, smile coming back to your face.

"Okay great! That helps me a lot" The blonde laughed.

"Excuse me" You politely flagged down the bartender. The same one from earlier coming back, you showed him your glass. "Can I get another one of these please? And whatever he wants?"

You looked to Steve who looked between you and the bartender. "Just two waters please."

"Sure thing." The bartender agreed.

"What? You're not going to have a drink?" You questioned.

He pulled a copper flask out of the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. "I'll drink more, but this is stronger."

"Oh, nothing here is strong enough for you?" You raised a brow, your smile growing just as lopsided as his.

"Nope. This stuff is special, it comes straight from another realm."

Laughing at his joke, as you handed the bartender cash straight from the wad Steve gave you. "That's funny, because I hope this is strong enough to make me feel like I'm no longer in this realm, so cheers to that!"

You and Steve sat at that bar for a solid two hours as conversation topics flew at the two of you unexpectedly fast. Each one new topic was short lived as an enthusiastic response would happily slip off one of your tongues, so excited that the two of you had so much in common.

Then, Steve decided to start the shopping spree. He offered you a hand to help you off the stool, which quickly turned into a protective arm around you, or ushering you the entirety of your time together. He knew that the men on the Vegas strip were pigs, but he underestimated how bad it really was.

But the cat calls, whistles, and lingering eyes were drowned out by the city sounds and the big flashing marquee lights that littered the sides of every building you passed. It was just as mesmerizing as the night before, skipping down the streets in a drunken haze with your best friends.

Now you were mesmerized by not only sin city, but the mysterious man you were following around as if you'd known him your whole life.

With a sense of childlike wonder the two of you ended up in silly places like the M&M's store, and the Coca-Cola store, but you also ventured into more classy designer establishments where you convinced him to buy a lovely new belt at Louis Vuitton.

It looked good, he looked good. You had to work really hard to contain the drool in your mouth as you watched him take off his old belt to replace it with the new one.

He tried to buy you a new bag, but once again you were being stubborn and were having a hard time accepting such a generous offer.

So, you suggested another drink. Just one more.

More sitting and chatting with Steve, you swallowed down the liquid in your cup while he shot the rest of the liquid in his flask.

That last drink was the worst of your poor decision making that night, or so you thought.

Because the last memory you had was sitting at that bar and really admiring him.

The alcohol had turned his cheeks and the tip of his nose a rosy pink color that somehow made his blue eyes shine even brighter, and add to the wholesome energy you felt radiating from him.

Sweet, silly, carefree, handsome, safe.

Then, you woke up.

Slowly at first. Your eyes opened and the dull pounding at the back of your skull wasn't nearly at bad as you deserved. The air conditioning did wonders keeping you comfortable, the light peaked through the black out curtains, and your belongings scattered across the room confirmed that you were definitely in the right place.

You looked around more. M&m's bag, Louis Vuitton bag... Converse bag? You didn't remember buying shoes. Wait... how did you get here?

Only then did you wake up FAST. You sat up, and your heart pounded as you realized that Blondie was in your bed. The sudden movement made your head pound even harder, but the good news was that he was fully clothed and was sleeping above the covers.

You were also asleep and fully clothed, but both of you were in different clothes than you had on last night. That's probably what those shopping bags in the corner were...

Carefully rolling out of bed to try and make yourself somewhat presentable and aid along trying to process what happened last night, you walked into the bathroom.

Wash your face, brush your teeth, fix your hair.

By the time you came out, Blondie was sitting up in bed with his legs on the floor, shooting you an apologetic look. He was apprehensive, scared to gauge how sick and unenthusiastic you would be by his presence this morning.

"Good morning." He said quietly, voice deep and raspy from inhaling the dry air and residual cigarette smoke.

"Morning." You tried to be polite, clutching the side of your head. "What happened? How did we- how did any of this-"

"Nothing happened." Steve reassured you. "I would never take advantage-"

"Okay, okay." You nodded slowly, feeling slightly relieved. "Advil. I have Advil."

Waking over to the table in the hotel room, you grabbed the bottle of painkillers and a water. You opened both and popped two little pills in your mouth, washing them down with water.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember much either. It's been a really long time since I've gotten drunk. This is really out of the ordinary for me." He explained.

"I guess we're on the same boat then." You agreed with him before a couple pieces of paper catch your eye.

"I guess I should probably go?" Steve stated, but it was more of a question. This was the first time he ever found himself waking up next to a stranger.

"No, you stay right there." You insisted frantically, picking up the piece of paper.

Certificate of marriage.

Your name signed at the bottom next to another signature that read Steven G Rogers.

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach.

You studied the signature, looked at his face, looked at the signature, then his face again.

In the table, there was a picture of the two of you kissing. Him in his suit, you in the dress you wore last night but also a veil.

"Oh my god" You exclaimed, so much information to process.

"What?" Steve questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Oh my god!" You pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath.

"What happened?"

"You didn't tell me..." You puffed out a breath, then an unexpected giggle left your throat. Of course, this would happen to you the one time in your life you didn't behave like a perfect angel. "Captain America?"

"Oh... Guilty?" Steve's shoulders sunk. "I introduced myself, no?"

"As Steve." You exaggerated.

"Yeah, I'm Steve." He agreed.

"Well, at least I was safe." Finding the benefit of the doubt. "Do you remember getting married last night, Steve?"

You passed the paper and the picture to him, and his face contorted into an expression you couldn't quite read. "...wow."

"Wow?" You questioned. "I unknowingly married Captain America last night and all you have for me is wow?"

"Holy shit." Steve looked up at you.

"That's better." You nodded.

"You don't look panicked" Steve noted.

"I'm not panicked because at least you're a superhero." You explained. "That counts for something right? Like people won't think I'm totally inane for marrying a stranger when they find out it's Captain America? And like... a superhero means you have people who come and clean up after you right? Someone can fix this right?"

You watched the gears turn in his head. "... I have to call Tony."

Tony. Who's Tony? Think. Superhero, avengers, Steve, Captain America. Tony... IRON MAN.

"Stark?" Your eyebrows raised. Steve nodded, pulling out his phone. "Now I'm freaking out. I'm really freaking out."

"It's okay, give me a second." Steve said calmly.

You nodded, the remembered you should check your phone too. As he spoke quietly to Tony, you looked around for your phone before finding it on the night stand, flooded with dozens of missed calls and texts from friends wondering where you were. You quickly sent off a text in a group chat saying you'd explain later, and that you were okay.

Eventually Steve ended the call. "He said he'll be here in a minute or two."

"Oh, okay great." You said exaggerating your nonchalance. "No biggie. Iron man coming over to read my marriage certificate to Captain America."

Steve giggled at the ridiculousness of the situation. "My mother would be over the moon to find out I'm married."

"My mom might have me 6 feet in a grave if she ever finds out about this." You sat back down on the bed next to him.

"When do you leave Vegas?" Steve questioned.

"My flight is at nine tonight. What about you?"

"Flying home at six thirty." He informed you. "Where do you live?"

"New York" You said simply. "Queens."

"We both live in New York and we’re staying in a New York themed hotel? What a small world." Steve noted. "Maybe we don't have to fit in a divorce before this evening."

"I mean... you are very handsome so I definitely wouldn't mind staying married to you for a few days until we get this figured out." You grinned.

A small blush stippled his cheeks at your compliment. “You’re so pretty I would’ve never had the courage to talk to you if I wasn’t drunk.”

Just like him, you blushed at his admission, and giggled at his words. “This doesn’t feel like real life.”

“Maybe I should’ve gotten you a ring instead of whatever the hell we bought last night.” Steve thought.

You looked down at your left hand, and sure enough, there was a pretty ring on your finger. You lifted it up to show him. “Looks like you were two steps ahead of yourself”

“Oh, good.” He chuckled. “At least there’s that.”

Then, there was a knock at the door.

You looked at Steve with wide eyes and nervousness building up in your tummy at the thought of being in the same room with one third of the Avengers.

“I’ll get it” He reassured you, standing up to answer the door.

Before you knew it, Tony Stark confidently barreled into the room. Firing some teasing words at Steve, you knew the poor guy would never hear the end of it.

“Oh look, here she is!” Tony announced.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Stark.” You shook his hand.

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine Mrs. Rogers.” He smiled.

“Tony” Steve warned with a glare.

“Where’s the paper work?” Tony asked.

You quickly handed him the picture and the signed document that was on the table. Steve stood right next to you as you both watched him read over it, and evaluate the legitimacy.

Tony took out his phone snapped a few pictures, and made a weird face. Nervously, you his your face in Steve’s arm and he instinctively rubbed your back to comfort you.

Then, Tony started laughing. “Rogers you’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware, but what’s so funny?” Steve complained.

“It’s fake.” Tony said.

“What?” Your head popped up.

“Little white chapel, married by Elvis just for the gag type of thing. There’s no marriage license, it’s not a legal marriage.” He explained, handing you the papers back.

Both you and Steve let out a huge sigh of relief. “Maybe I’m not that much of an idiot after all.”

“No, you’re still stupid.” Tony denied. “Out of all the people in the world I would’ve never expected this from you, Cap.”

“This is Thor’s fault.” Steve pointed his finger.

You didn’t understand how the god of thunder had anything to do with this, but you had no mental capacity left to even ask.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. Just be on time for the flight home and stay out of trouble.” Tony told him. “Hope to see you around again soon, Mrs. Rogers.”

And just like that, he was out faster than he came in.

“I know Tony made it seem like everything is okay, but it’s not and I have a giant mess to clean up with the team.” Steve explained to you.

“Yeah, I’d assume so.” You smiled.

“Which means I really should go.” He let you down. “But regardless of this fiasco, and from what I do remember, I had a lot of fun with you last night. Would you want to exchange phone numbers and maybe hang out again when we get home?”

“I would love that, Steve.” You agreed.

He handed you his phone and you handed him yours. Both putting in your phone numbers and names before swapping them back.

At the same time, you both burst out laughing at the contact names.

Unplanned, he put his name as Husband, and you put yours as Wife.

“Ridiculous!” You laughed, walking him to the door.

“Maybe we really were meant to be.” Steve pondered.

“Maybe.” You agreed. “But in all seriousness, thank you for getting me home safe last night. I was really lucky to run into the right person at the right time.”

“Of course.” Steve grinned. “Travel safe, and let me know when you get home so we can set something up.”

“You got it.” Rocking up on your tippy toes, you kissed his cheek. “Have fun cleaning up that mess, Husband.”

“Don’t tell your Mom about this, Wife.”

You locked your lips and threw away the key. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

‎‧₊˚✧⚀♡⚁⁠♧⚂♤⚄♢⚅✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧⚀♡⚁⁠♧⚂♤⚄♢⚅✧˚₊‧

[sigh-tofm]

currently watching a reality/docu show about game wardens and i despise putting these men in us based scenarios but imagine…

… working in a 24/7 diner and regularly getting all sorts of law enforcement throughout the night, looking for a pick-me-up before they head back out again. your favourite is the big captain with a silver star and everything, who doesn’t really go on a patrols or calls anymore but still stops by your diner as often as he can. he’s ridiculously handsome in the rugged, brutish way, with a smiling lines around his eyes and impressive facial hair. always gets coffee and a slice of pie, always asks for a refill so he can watch your broad ass as you walk away when you retrieve the coffee pot. you kinda know what he’s about when he does that, but you don’t mind in the least letting him have his fun and wiggle your hips a little extra - he’s otherwise polite and a good tipper too. you don’t know it yet, but one of these days he’ll be waiting by your car for you to finish your shift and convince you to take him home with you.

… spending a summer day out on the lake, tanning in the back of bowrider you borrowed from your friend when you hear another boat coming up, motor idly working as the driver lets the waves bring him closer to you. you prepare to be annoyed at yet another guy who finds it hilarious to make fun of a fat girl in a bikini, but when you sit up you see it’s a game warden boat and aboard is the single most handsome man you have ever seen in your life, even though his face is shaded by his cap. he asks you all the important questions about boating licenses and life jackets, and you answer them all with a wavering voice, made a little nervous by this god of a man. he mistakes (on purpose) your hesitation as being under the influence and makes you do a breathalyser test. looks you straight in the eyes while you lock your lips around the tube to blow and taps your nose with his finger when the machine beeps and proclaims your innocence.

… being out hunting on the first day of the season and being stopped for a control by a game warden. you’re a good girl, you have everything in order, you tell him as he checks your gun, sticking his finger into the tube magazine to make sure that you don’t carry too many shotgun shells. he gives you a wry smile and asks for your hunting license and you pull out your wallet, only to find that you forgot it at home. he returns to his truck to check with dispatch to see if your story is true, if you really do have a hunting license in your name. proceeds to tell you your license is from last year and that you’re breaking multiple laws here. no license (even though you know you have one), lying to an officer (even though you’re speaking the truth) and hunting on private property (even though you’ve sure you didn’t see any signs about that coming in here). but you can’t prove any of that of course, not out here. seems you’re got yourself in quite the pickle, little lady. luckily warden mactavish is willing to let you make it right without giving you any fines.

… calling in about an owl that has gotten inside your house in the middle of the night. waiting in trepidation at the door so as not to agitate the animal further, only wearing your short dressing gown when there’s suddenly knocking. you open to find the biggest man you’ve ever seen standing on the porch, and you’re about to slam the door on him when he puts his foot in the door and announces he’s here about a bird. you nervously open the door again and he steps inside, having to turn sideways to fit his massive shoulders through the entryway. you point him to the living room where the owl is perched on your curtain rod. in less than three minutes he’s located it, caught it with his skeleton-gloved hands (not minding the talons at all) and taken it outside to release it. you’re ready to thank him and bid him adieu, but he shoulders his way back inside to straighten up the curtains again and sweep up the feathers, a service you didn’t know they provided. at last he stands up to his full height and looks you up and down, from your messy hair to your thick thighs. ‘now, about that bird…’

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blurred Lines 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: some more Nicky for the girlies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Back to usual. 

You say goodbye to Joey with an especially clingy hug. She’ll be gone back to campus by the time you get home. Her short visits always leave you a bit sad.

You arrive at Nick’s place and let yourself in. The remnants of the prior day’s get together are still littered over the dining room table and throughout the front room. There’s more in the kitchen.

You gather the empty glasses and a few bottles with varying amounts of liquid still inside. You scrape plates into the pin and sweep napkins in after them. You fill the sink with warm soapy water to wash it all when you hear the soft but clumsy pad of feet on the stairs. They’re too light to be Nick.

You have the coffee brewing in anticipation of your boss’ hangover. The aroma wafts into the air as the machine clicks. A figure appears in the doorway and you turn to greet the woman in her sleek but wrinkled dress. This isn’t unexpected either.

“Good morning,” you greet her stunned eyes as she blanches.

“Um, I’m sorry, I was only–”

“Coffee?” You offer her as you open the cupboard, “look like you need it.”

“N-no, I… should go. Is there a Starbucks around here?” She croaks.

“No need, I can do lattes,” you offer, “he’s got this ridiculously expensive machine.”

“Er,” she looks down at the heels dangling from her hand then back to you, “sorry, are you… do you live…”

“I work for Mr. Fowler. Just the maid,” you assure her. Her assumption fills your chest with an unspent laugh. You’re far too old for Nick. Besides, the concept is ridiculous.

“Oh…” her single syllable dangles.

You pour her a cup and turn to offer it to her. Her mouth slants in a guilty smile. She shambles forward and accepts the mug.

“You take sugar, cream? Maybe some Advil?” You suggest.

“Oat milk? And yes please, my head is pounding.”

“Right, he has almond milk,” you open another cupboard and pluck out the ibuprofen, “or whole milk.”

“Almond is fine,” she accepts as you rattle the bottle.

“One or two, hon,” you ask as you approach her again.

“Two, please,” she inhales the scent of the coffee and sighs, rubbing her eye socket before extending her hand to take the tablet, “the whole bottle if I could.”

“Ugh, yeah, I don’t miss those days,” you hum and cap the bottle.

You put it away and go into the large fridge, taking out the carton of almond milk for the woman. You take it to her as she approaches the island to clink down the coffee. You watch as she adds the milk and takes a slender spoon from you to stir it in. She takes her first sip and moans before tossing back the pills.

“Coffee good?” You prompt proudly.

“Oh, yeah,” she looks up at you, “yeah, it’s great.”

“Took me a while to master the beast,” you point to the machine. “I finally got my ristretto down, too.”

She gives a nervous laugh and gulps again, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, “you’re nice… really nice. Why?”

You blink at her question. It makes you wonder, was Nick not nice? That’s not really any of your concern.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You shrug and turn to the full sink, “you’re a guest.” You plunge your hands in and scrub the porcelain, “plus, you kinda remind me of my daughter. I’d like someone to treat her nicely too.”

“Ah,” she accepts, “that’s really sweet.”

“It’s human, I hope,” you open up the dishwasher to slide in each plate.

“You really… didn’t have to make me coffee,” she murmurs.

You peek over at her as she stares into the depths. She seems sad but that might just be the hangover. You continue your work as you reply.

“It was already on. If you’re hungry–”

“Please, no, that’s okay,” she declines with a wave, “I think… I think I’ll just finish this and get an uber. Maybe go call my mom.”

“Well, you let me know if you need anything before you go,” you chime as you hook glasses into the top rack of the dishwasher.

You finish the dishes and grab a damp cloth to go wipe the table down. You stop by a few other surfaces to clear away rings from the finish and return to the kitchen. As you enter from the dining room, Nick appears in the other.

The woman faces him as she grabs her shoes, “hi.”

He growls and lumbers over to the coffee machine. He sees the mug waiting for him and peers into its empty body. You clutch the cloth in your hand as you watch his naked back tense. He wears nothing more than a pair of briefs. At most, you’ve seen him shirtless when he needs some stitches.

“More coffee?” You offer the woman.

“No, I should go,” she peeks at him nervously.

“Alright, well, you take care,” you bid her and take her cup.

“Thanks,” she says and skulks to the door, “bye, Nick.”

“Mmm,” he flicks his fingers at her as he pours himself a cup.

You narrow your eyes at his shoulder blades. That wasn’t very polite. Well, it isn’t your job to be his mother, even if it feels like it sometimes.

You put the almond milk away as he turns to lean in the corner of the counter. He presses the porcelain to his forehead and groans. You shake out the cloth over the sink and rinse it out.

“You have a daughter,” he states plainly. A question but not really.

“I do,” you answer evenly.

“I didn’t know that,” he says.

You shrug, “guess it never came up.”

"You’ve worked for me for three years…” he mutters.

“You never asked,” you say lightly, “it’s fine.”

He lowers the cup and slurps loudly. He swishes the coffee around before he swallows thickly.

“Your husband okay with you working twelves?”

You chuckle, “sir, really, it’s fine.”

His curiosity is not usual. You stick to the expected, the manageable. You don’t stray outside the lines. You’re friendly but you’re not overfamiliar. He always seemed to prefer that. He enjoyed talking about himself far more.

“You were busy yesterday,” he shifts his weight to one foot, his muscled chest rippling.

“I suppose as busy as you,” you roll in the racks of the dishwasher and add soap before closing it up.

“I… interrupted your plans?”

“Sir, it’s fine, I had a good day off and now I’m back,” you insist, “are there any other messes I need to worry about?”

He tilts his head and exhales deeply. His cheek dimples as he considers you. The cut on his head is exposed but not as bad as it was, though the bruise under his eyes has only gotten darker.

He scoffs as a smirk slants his lips, “sure. You could change my bed sheets.”

“Sure,” you accept breezily, repressing the glimmer of concern at the base of your skull. 

Something about his response seems trite, as if he means to insult you. You’re an adult, you’re less than shocked at his after hours play. By now, you’re quite used to it. He’s in his prime, he’s well off, and he’s handsome by anyone’s measure.

“You could try some witch hazel,” you touch your cheek then point at his, “for the bruising.”

“I can handle it,” he retorts and pushes himself away from the counter, “enough chattering. Get to work.”

🥃

You knock on the office door and wait for an answer. The little device you keep clipped to your belt is still buzzing with Nick’s demand. He calls to you from within and you enter.

“Sir?” You greet him.

“What took you so long?” He growls.

He’s in a foul mood. He has been all day. He can be gruff, you’re used to that, but today, he just seems prickly. His romp must not have been much fun. Come to think of it, his partner had been all too eager to flee.

You shake away the intrusive thoughts and clear your throat, “I was in the laundry room. Sorry.”

“My head is pounding,” he rubs his temples.

“Right, sir, I’ll bring you Advil and some water–”

“Don’t treat me like a child,” he snarls.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m sure I’m a lot older than your daughter, so cut it out.”

“I wasn’t– sir, I’m sorry.”

“Go, get the pills,” he shoos you, “and call Rhonda.”

You nod and leave him. Wow. You don’t think he’s ever spoken to you like that. The mention of Joey also puts you off. Why is he so concerned? Most people could look at you and assume you have a kid or too. At your age, with your hips…

You go downstairs to retrieve the Advil and a tall glass of water. You climb back upstairs and follow the airy hall down to your office. As you enter, he sits with his head in his hands, his elbows on the desk. You don’t say a word as you set down the glass and pills.

He doesn’t move. You back away slowly and pull out your cell phone. You’ll call the masseuse, she should be able to work out the tension.

As you get to the door, he growls and his chair squeaks.

“You said something, about witch hazel,” he snarls.

“Uh, yes,” you face him, “it’ll take down the bruising.”

He narrows his eyes, the gesture tweaking his swollen cheek. Even battered, he isn’t unattractive. And the woman in his kitchen was just as gorgeous. So you find it hard to fathom why he’s in such a mood.

“Would you like me to get it for you, sir?” You ask, trying not to sound too pandering.

“Sure, whatever.”

You sweep away and go down the hall to the cabinet. You keep everything stocked well. Part of your job is inventory. You’ll have to go through the liquor bottles later and see what needs replenishing too.

You return to him with the witch hazel and a bag of cotton balls. You place them on his desk as he leans his head against the chairback, his eyes closed. You step back on your heel and his eyes pop open.

“Would you mind?” He motions to his face.

“Sure,” you take the cotton balls and pull one out.

You uncap the dark bottle and dampen the cotton with the liquid. His eyes close again as you sidle closer and you dab gently along his cheek. He flinches, just once, then stills. It must be cold. 

His eyes flick open again and startle you as you retract your touch. Awkwardly, you move away and gather up the bottle and bag of cotton balls. He’s quiet as he leans forward to grab the bottle of pills.

“I should’ve guessed,” he says as he shakes two tablets out, “that’s what I do. I read people. You’re a mother, for sure. She’s older, isn’t she? College? You had her young–”

“Sir,” you sniff, uncomfortable.

“Just the one. And you didn’t answer me when I talked about your husband so he must be out of the picture. Divorced. About the time you came around here, huh? You need the job after the messy break up,” he suggests as he wags his finger with a knowing grin, “probably another woman, huh?”

You blink. You’ll let him think what he wants. His opinion of your marriage isn’t important. It won’t do to correct him anyway. He doesn’t really seem to care, he just wants to wound. You just can’t figure out what you’ve done to deserve it.

[seaadc]

sshshshshsh heyhey could i have some uhh aqua hoshino x streamer!reader

I feel like such a genius for thinking about this my third eye has been opened

status | aqua hoshino x streamer!fem!reader

a/n: THIS IS SUCH A UNIQUE REQUEST??!!!??? THANK U SM ANON!!

summary: aqua being madly infatuated with you ever since he had saw you streaming.

- “If the world was against us, then I’m against the world.”

You are definitely in for a treat, definitely.

Before Aqua had met you, he was not that quite.. expressive? He had a cold demeanor, You can call him stern, but not too quite.

When Aqua was silently working on the little short trailer of a video that the team he was working with in “Love now” was gonna post, He came across you in the internet.

You were streaming in youtube, Your hair looked good and it looks recently brushed. You were talking to your fans since you were popular— heck, you even knew Mem-cho! You were slightly more popular than her which caused you to have a lot of viewers.

The girl was talking about her life and desires, how she’d want to be an idol someday. Aqua narrowed his eyes at the screen, staring deep into your galactic eyes.. How mesmerizing. He wouldn’t admit that

You were acting all so bubbly and giddy, showing your viewers some stuff in your room. And, to be honest, Aqua enjoyed watching you. Or was he just tired? He was tired from editing the short clip, he just laid his head down the table and using his arms as support while he looked at the laptop, gazing into your eyes that wasn’t even staring into his own.

He then sighed and closed the laptop, standing up while he went outside to grab the juice Yuki was going to gave him.

Aqua went out, Mem-cho went inside and opened the laptop, checking if the video had gotten more popular but she was greeted by a familiar face.

“Oh! It’s [Name]!” The blondie muttered to herself, wondering what was the tab doing in the laptop.

“Huh.. Aqua left the room last.”

Aqua decided to take a stroll outside the building, not too far but not too near. He was walking down the sidewalks when he felt like he should get a snack. He went to the nearest store and went inside, the bell on top of the door ringing.

Aqua sighed to himself and grabbed some chips, To his surprise there was a girl next to him.

She looked up at the shelf and grabbed the same chips Aqua had got but a different flavor, The girl smiled brightly to herself and adjusted her cap.

Aqua looked at her, He was 2 inches taller than her if he could presume.. She looked oddly familiar.

“Miss… Uh.. Have I seen you somewhere?” Aqua asked softly, his eyes narrowing at the girl’s cap which was colored white.

The girl looked up at him, Aqua widening his eyes at the realization it was the streamer had come across earlier.

“Well that’s interesting. People can still recognize me?” You mumbled, sighing in disbelief while you headed over at the cashier and placed your chips down at the counter.

Aqua hummed and followed, right behind you while he waited in line. It was awkward.. The only sound you could hear was the cashier’s machine clacking and doing such beeps.

The girl turned and looked at Aqua, smiling warmly. “[Name], At your service.” She introduced, and left while the bell rang.

Aqua stared off into the door, following your figure until it has dissipated. He looked down at the chips and put it down the counter.. Somehow, He felt.. attached. He couldn’t explain why, It was definitely not the universe playing tricks on both of you… right?

Ever since Aqua met you in real life, He couldn’t stop. As in, He couldn’t stop checking your profile everyday to see if you have a new video or stream. Truth be told, He watched every single video you had made and streams. Even if they were past streams, He still persevered to watch it.

Aqua felt comfortable and satisfied whenever he would rewatch a video of yours when you won’t post due to lack of motivation, but he would always check. Everyday, Everynight.

One day as you set up your computer, You thought of the fair blonde guy you met at the shop. You smiled at the thought, knowing it was the same guy you supported in the show “Love now” and the upcoming Tokyo Revenger live action.

You started streaming and viewers rushed in the stream, waiting for other viewers to arrive while a certain username joined.

“AquaHoshino… Are you a fan or the guy himself?” You chuckled, the viewers commenting of how cute and adorable your smile is while the user you had mentioned didn’t reply.

Meanwhile, through the other screen, Aqua couldn’t contain himself when his tongue slipped out of your mouth. He kept staring at your face, He didn’t know why, but the word that fits to what he kept on doing for the past few months was definitely ‘Infatuation’.

Considering he was a doctor before, ‘course he knew what this thing was. But it took him quite a long time to accept that he was inlove with you. A streamer who makes money off it.

Aqua just entered Strawberry Productions since Miyako called for him, only to find out that you, yes you, had signed a contract. Turns out Mem-cho had invited you and both of you were conversing with eachother on the green couch.

Miyako smiled and walked up to Aqua. “We have a new member.” She spoke with a soothing voice. Aqua flinched when he saw you, You both held eye contact until you smiled.

Oh shit, That was the best thing he ever saw. (except Ai’s smile) His heart melted, feeling it race like a sports car. Aqua cleared his throat and turned away, trying to hide the redness creeping up to his face while Mem-cho merely giggled. “Your so charismatic, [Name]-chan.” Mem-cho teased to which Aqua sighed at, He left the area to not get embarrassed any further and went to his room, leaving a very confused [Name]. and he would probably sabotage things a bit because he doesnt want you to be an idol, being a streamer is already making you tired and he doesn’t want that.

And since then, You would always talk to him with the most giddy-est personality ever. He would reply in short answers but he enjoyed your company, he wasn’t going to say that straightforwardly to you but might as well include it.

He would enjoy the peaceful silence you both shared in benches, school cafeterias, living rooms, and so many more places!

Aqua would probably be clingy to you in private, He isn’t a fan of PDA but he would gladly let you if you would do the first move or if he’s.. ehem.. jealous.

He once saw you conversing too much with a male employee at the cinema counter since you asked to join him in the mall which he couldn’t decline at. Only to find out another person was going to spend all your time with him.

Aqua approached with the popcorn he had bought and gave one to you, glaring at the employee. You thanked him while he simply nodded.

He took your hand and intertwined it with his, which made your heart pounding like some sort of wildebeest in a stampede.

And you both enjoyed that day.

bonus:

Aqua had confessed, inside the store you both first met. The cashier looked very amused while imaginary stars appeared beside her.

“W-what..?“ You stuttered, blushing a pink hue at the sudden confession Aqua had made, since he just kind of.. said that so fast.

Aqua sighed with the tip of his ears were flaming red while his cheeks were red too. “I’m not repeating that.” He blurted out, looking away while he kept a blank expression though the color of his cheeks say otherwise.

Being his girlfriend made you realize how hard is life is, how he would risk anything just to get justice for his mother. Which he told you after a few not a few months of dating. He got comfortable around you and you would always be there to comfort him during his nightmares, And he would always be there for you whenever you get a hate comment that gets you really insecure.

To be honest, You would probably wake up one day and getting the news of the person who kept on hating on you suddenly so quiet… I wonder what your lovely red flag boyfriend did.

[fafnir19]

A swimming lesson

It was another typical day at school, and as usual, I found myself in the crosshairs of Mr. Coachman's disdain. My name is Tristan, and I am what one might call an "unsporty" student. Thin, nerdy, and full of useless facts, I was the kid who always got picked last in gym class. Mr Coachman, a former athlete turned sport and philosophy teacher, had no patience for my know-it-all attitude. He believed that my incessant need to correct everyone was hindering the class and, quite frankly, his sanity. One day, Mr. Coachman approached me after yet another unnecessary correction during PE. He offered me a chance to improve my abysmal grades in sports by taking extra swimming lessons with him. Reluctantly, I agreed, desperate to boost my overall GPA. At our first swimming session, Mr. Coachman handed me a peculiar-looking swimming cap. He claimed it would allow me to hear and see his instructions directly in my head. I thought he was out of his mind, but upon putting on the cap, I realized it actually worked. It was a surreal experience, feeling Mr. Coachman's voice and visual cues echoing in my mind as I swam. The instructions were crystal clear, making it easier to perfect my stroke and improve my technique in record time. Weeks later, Mr. Coachman, noticing my progress, approached me with a new pair of swim goggles. He said they would help me focus better in the pool. Skeptical yet willing to try anything, I put them on and dove in. As soon as the water enveloped me, I felt a heightened sense of concentration. The outside world disappeared, and all that mattered was the water beneath me. Mr. Coachman's voice became a distant echo, guiding me through each stroke and turn. It was as if the goggles had transformed me into a single-minded swimming machine.

Mr Coachman observed my newfound dedication and satisfaction. I was exhausted from the intense swim training, which left me with no energy to display my usual know-it-all tendencies in class.

Several weeks later, Mr Coachman's next request gave me pause. He presented me with a slim blue Speedo and promised that it would enhance my speed in the water. There was just one catch—I had to shave off all my body hair. He argued that professional swimmers did it all the time for better speed and reduced resistance. I protested vehemently. "Shave off all my body hair? Are you out of your mind?" I exclaimed, my voice filled with disbelief. Mr Coachman, with a grin on his face, replied, "Of course not, Tristan! It's a small sacrifice in pursuit of greatness. Trust me, you'll thank me later." I crossed my arms stubbornly, determined to resist this outrageous demand. "Absolutely not! I'll wear the Speedo, but I draw the line at shaving my body hair. It's like asking a caterpillar to give up its fuzzy coat!" Mr Coachman's smile didn't falter, and he simply said, "Suit yourself, Tristan. But just remember, the pros do it for a reason." His words lingered in the air as an internal struggle waged within me. The temptation to conform and become the ultimate swimmer clashed with my natural inclination to rebel against such absurdity. In the end, though, curiosity won over. I figured, if I could endure the grueling training and wear these magical swimming items, what harm could a little body hair removal do? With a hesitant sigh, I finally agreed to Mr. Coachman's request. Trudging to the bathroom, I grabbed a razor, examining its gleaming blade with trepidation. As I stood before the mirror, thoughts of caterpillars and metamorphosis floated through my mind. I wondered if shaving off my body hair would truly transform me into a swimming powerhouse. With each stroke of the razor, I felt a mix of excitement and unease. Whiskers and hairs fell, leaving behind smooth, hairless skin. Trapped in my thoughts, I couldn't help but wonder what my friends would say or how they would react when they discovered my newfound aquatic obsession and hairless body. Finally, once all the hair was gone, I took a long look at my smooth reflection. It was a strange sight, almost otherworldly. I felt a mix of vulnerability and exhilaration, like a sea creature shedding its scales and emerging anew. Standing tall in my hairless glory, I slipped into the slim blue Speedo. Ready or not, I was about to dive into the next chapter of this bizarre journey, hoping that my shaved body would indeed prove to be a worthwhile sacrifice in the pursuit of greatness. Emerging from the water for the first time in my stylish Speedo, I had transformed. My physique resembled that of a Greek statue, not an ounce of body fat in sight. I was an athletic swimmer, a force to be reckoned with.

With my old clothes no longer fitting, Mr. Coachman outfitted me with a tight beige chino and a light blue shirt.

As I squeezed myself into the outfit, I couldn't help but complain about looking like a preppy dork. However, Mr. Coachman assured me that it was all about how I wore the clothes. Skillfully, he rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, unbuttoned the top buttons, and stood back to appraise his handiwork. "Aren't you a handsome devil?" he remarked with a satisfied grin.

Surprisingly, I found myself thanking him, swallowed by a sense of excitement and self-confidence that I had never experienced before. Something about Mr. Coachman's approval made me feel alive and validated, even if I couldn't pinpoint exactly why I had become so susceptible to his influence. And thus, Mr. Coachman's cunning plan had come to fruition. Those magical swimming accouterments had not only transformed me into a skilled swimmer but also had slowly but surely chipped away at my once-sturdy resistance. When I wore all three items—cap, goggles, and Speedo—I was utterly beholden to his every command, a true embodiment of the "perfect student-athlete" he had envisioned from the onset. Now a member of the swim team, I had gone from a nerdy outcast to a charming and good-looking athlete, the joy of all my teachers. But deep down, I couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Coachman's methods were entirely ethical. Regardless, I was living proof of his success, and the sensation of hearing Mr. Coachman's voice and visualizing his instructions while wearing the cap and goggles had left an indelible mark on my perception of swimming, forever changing the way I experienced the water.

[trashpandacraft]

What are your cats' names? I love them very much 🥹

you are my favourite person. thank you so much for asking this and giving me a chance to talk about my cats, my precious terrible babies.

we have three cats, as you can see in this photo of them supervising me watering the garden yesterday.

the brown tabbies are brothers, and are two years old. the grey one was adopted at the same time, but is younger—about eighteen months. they're terrible. i adore them.

this is darcy. he's impossibly beautiful, so full of beauty that there's absolutely no space left in that precious little head of his for anything as trivial as thoughts. look at those eyes. his mind is absolutely empty.

darcy enjoys hanging his chin over things, feather toys, helping me manage any wool products that i'm using, sunbeams, yoghurt, tearing apart cardboard boxes, and being lightly thunked along his sides. does he like being pet like a normal cat? not really. what he loves is when you aggressively rub his sides up and down like you're trying to towel off a very wet dog, or when you play bongos on his ribs.

darcy is our babiest boy, and also the fanciest and most beautiful boy. he doesn't walk, he prances. his tail is an enormous peacock plume. his mouth is so so so pink. he's also our most timid boy—very friendly, but very cautious, especially when it comes to anything physical. big jump? no thank you, darcy will simply hop down to the floor and take the long way. he's our longest and probably our sturdiest cat, but he does not care to put that to the test.

this is bingley. you may notice, in these photos, that he's missing the paw on his front right leg. this is because he put every single one of his ability points into soft and didn't leave any for paw. he feels like this was a reasonable trade, and is entirely unbothered by its absence.

bingley likes sofa, plush fishie toys, biting and biting and biting his siblings, cotton, being tall, getting onto the bed by jumping directly on my face, and trucks and machines of all types. you have a spinning wheel? this guy is obsessed with spinning wheels. garbage is being picked up? he is tearing into the office so he can watch it out the window. toddler-ass behaviour, frankly.

darcy and bingley are brothers, and when we went to the shelter, we were told that they were a bonded pair, and that darcy relied on bingley for a lot of social cues. this was, at it turns out, 100% correct. darcy is timid and anxious and very reluctant to trust his own abilities; bingley is confident and loud and knows absolutely no fear. this cat has opinions, and by god he's gonna tell you about them. bingley makes the biggest jumps, and is the cat who figured out that he could jump from the knee-high cat tree to the top of the more-than-two-metres wardrobe. i'm honestly glad that he's missing a paw because i feel like if he weren't a tiny bit nerfed, he'd be A Threat. he is also far and away our smallest cat, even though he sometimes makes himself look quite large in photos.

this is goblet. goblet is rightfully called silver—my child named him, thus the thematic disconnect—but i have to admit that i've almost never called him that. you see, when we got him, he was very young, and he had hilariously oversized eyes and ears, which made him look like a goblin. a very small goblin. a goblet, if you will.

goblet likes food, the plastic bottle caps from sports drinks that he fishes out of the garbage, being in things (baskets, drawers, cat beds, etc), headbutts, having his belly rubbed, and sitting with his front paws tucked up very politely.

he's our most skittish boy—if there's a loud noise, he's gone—but also the snuggliest. which is great, because he's also the most trustworthy when it comes to craft supplies. if i pull out my knitting, there's like an 85% chance that he'll appear on my lap within ten minutes or so, and then he'll just hang out there. i've used his limbs to tension yarn before and he just purrs. he's sort of middle of the road on the bad life choices scale—too skittish to have bingley's eyes closed, three paws, can't lose attitude, but more confident than darcy. he's also the smartest cat.

additionally, he has weirdly, freakishly grippy paws. he's not polydactyl, but he very much uses his dewclaws like thumbs. he really holds on to things. it's messed up but also very charming, because he holds on to everything.

anyhow, thank you so so much for sending me this ask and giving me an excuse to tell you way more than you wanted to know about my cats!

[runaway-dreamers]

Could I ask a Wally x Reader reunion request? Like reader found a way to leave Home and go back to their world, but they learn they can’t return for at least a month or two.

And they do eventually come back apologizing to Wally and then to everybody else. Some angst ending with fluff?

I may have gotten a tad bit excited by this ask.

[Part 1 ◇ 2 ◇ 3]

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

At the end of all I knew, I find the beginning of you and I.

The Everyday Life of Wally Darling

Word count: 2,070

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

Demands piled high, and you were only so fast to fill them. You were tucked in a corner by the espresso machine. The revolving door of needy customers never slowed, their unspoken requests needing tending to. The jaded opening baristas were already planning what to get from the bar a few stores down . One coworker was taking orders and making small talk at the register, another was next to you pulling shots. Your feet remained in two squares, turning to and from the machine grabbing milk for the sweating ice cups and hissing steam wands.

A whisper from a passing shadow, "Smile more, you're scaring the customers."

You duck your head pulling your cap low. With shaking hands you attempt to pour milk into a pitcher only to have it spill, split by the edge. Rag in hand you wipe away the mess, but the blurring of your vision makes it difficult. The room threatens to spin as if wanting you tossed off your feet. Your stomach twists pushing your heart into your throat. Your body steels for the expected impact. Nothing changes, and the line keeps moving. Standing there inside your head allowed orders to pile.

Idling there disrupted the flow, "Y/N, this one needs regular milk, did you grab the right one?"

"Mhm, yes, yes. Regular." You barely finished your sentence, your voice fading. The cup had been placed on the counter where a hand extending from the growing mass snapped it up. You watched it until it was out of view, absorbed by the bustling chaos.

Turning back to the machine, something red glints off of it. Your single dangling earring taps against your jaw, but the weight of it soothes you. You sigh softly and the side of your lip lifts into a quick smile. It was a bright red apple cut in half with two little black seeds on it. When you touch it you can feel the smooth rise and fall of its shape.

A tap on your shoulder caused you to jump in surprise, "Take your break, Y/N, you're distracted."

With a nod you stepped away. The smile on your face flattened to a thin line as you grabbed your bag. For a moment you thought about leaving and heading straight home. The comfort of your couch called to you, but you knew leaving would cost your coworkers their break. Instead you slipped out of the store and walked to the gas station a few blocks away.

Reddish-brown leaves were falling from twisted branches high above you. The breeze rattled them, shaking them loose until they fluttered down, settling on the ground. Life felt like it slowed to a crawl with the colder months rounding the corner. You briefly thought about what sort of soups Poppy would be making, and if Howdy was stocking caramel apples. The gas station came into view.

Inside the parking lot, tucked behind the old building, was a dumpster. Around it were old buckets, crates, and wood in various stages of rot. Reaching tree branches from the other side of the fence formed a canopy overhead. There was a touch of coziness here as the sound of busy life faded into the distance.

Your favorite overturned crate was still here just as you had left it. Before sitting down you removed a carefully wrapped container from your bag. Half of this morning's blunt rested inside along with your lighter. Held between your lips, you attempted to light it. The flint struck once, twice, three times before a strong enough flame was lit. You held it to the snubbed blunt letting it take hold. The embers burned a bright red as you inhaled. On the exhale you let yourself comfortably slump against the fence, shutting your eyes.

This passing summer had been unbearable, but in the autumn chill you found yourself asking for its return. The cold ran deep soaking into your bones and mixing with your blood. You pulled your scarf up over your ears. Each puff untethered you. Smoke drifted out from your nose caressing your skin as it drifted up, the wispy tendrils passed easily between the strands of your hair.

Your hand trailed over the earring feeling along the shape of it. It was originally part of a set, but the other side had been lost in a pocket between here and there. It had been a gift, one made specially for you. Lovingly shaped by careful hands. If the other side remained in Home, you imagined he kept it close to him at all times. This gave you comfort as you remembered the time spent there.

When you first arrived in Home, you were greeted by a whole cast of friendly faces. Julie created games for you to play. Frank and Eddie would take you bug watching. Howdy always found ways to indulge your sweet tooth. Barnaby invited you out on strolls, imparting wisdom and bad jokes. Poppy taught you how to bake. And Wally was there every step of the way. Life back in your reality wasn't as grand, as you came to remember, but it hadn't been your choice to go. Just like it hadn't been your choice to leave. You were ripped away from all you knew and fell through a hole in the universe.

On an outing you brought up your confusing feelings while bug watching. Eddie had suggested that you at least keep it an open idea, and Frank agreed. There were no clear paths and not many options. Choices weren't a choice unless they were found to be possible. Everyone stressed that should the time come, the final decision was up to you.

You weren't fully convinced to stay or go, but at the time you couldn't rule out any foreseeable options. Despite how close you all had grown, you had felt that you couldn't fully belong. They all knew how homesick you were, especially Wally, and his words were still clear in your mind.

"Hmm, that is a tough one," Wally spoke slowly, his eyes looking thoughtful, "If you found a way home, you could properly answer that question. It would be undeniable, neighbor, whatever your deepest desires are."

You tried to remember things as clearly as possible, but every memory led back to the end. His laughter turned to screams, his hopeful eyes brimming with terror, hands struggled to hold on. The pull of the void was too great, and you fell into the endless darkness. All you remembered was his face laced with regret. He was shouting frantically as you were swallowed whole. All you could do was watch as the darkness consumed your vision. Twice you had fallen, twice you had to confront your mounting losses.

That day played on repeat in your head. You tried to scrub the fading fragments in search of subtle meanings. Were those little glances something more? The softening of his eyes, the pink of his cheeks, was that something you only imagined? Your bag was crumpled on the ground near you. With a rough shake you undid the partially closed zipper and pulled out a beaten up notebook.

Page after page were filled with grainy crayons and smooth colored pencils. Splatters of smudged paint obscured the already warped images and words. Those scribbles had been notes you kept while living in Home. You smiled fondly as your thumb rubbed the coarse texture. It ended up a collective journal meant to be shared. Everyone had pitched in and wrote something about their day.

It looked like the pages had been stained with a painter's used water cup. Over these stained pages you had tried drawing each of them from memory. It became harder to remember what they looked like, but eyes remained. Each one detailed and alive, but lacking familiarity.

Drops of rain fell onto the page popping your bubble of solitude. Your break was over all too soon. As you put everything back in your bag the thought of walking away returned, nagging and incessant. It coiled around your stomach and squeezed itself into a ball. Nothing about this was right. You left the gas station without a word heading towards the bus stop. They managed without you for five months, they'll survive one shift.

—------------------------------------------------

"Howdy has some caramel coated apples all neatly packaged at the bodega." Frank was at the kitchen sink washing a pumpkin. They were scrubbing in particular circular motions, dunking it into clean water every now and again.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Howdy said he got them specially ordered." Eddie was at the table sorting through some letters.

"I know it's just you at the post office, but I wish you wouldn't bring work home." Frank dumped the brownish water down the sink. They took a clean rag and patted the pumpkin dry.

"You're right, there's always tomorrow." Eddie chuckled as he packed the partially sorted mail up and slid the box under the table. He leaned back in his seat with a loud sigh. The sound of a knife splitting the gourd filled the kitchen.

Frank spoke up, "So.. Have you noticed Wally around lately?"

"I see him walkin' often. More so than usual, and very slowly, too." He drawled, waiting for Frank to share what was on their mind.

"Earlier today, he declined another invite from Julie." Frank's words dripped with growing concern. Their frown was even more pronounced than usual. Eddie could read the tension on his husband's body.

"I noticed that change in him, yes, but it's to be expected. Loss can-"

"It's our fault." They spoke harsher than expected.

Frank left the knife in the flesh of the pumpkin. The piece flopped to the side as it was let go. They leaned against the edge of the sink. Each passing second marked by the dripping faucet.

Eddie started, "Now, Frank, don't think that way. It won't help nothin'."

"No, Eddie, no. We both told Y/N to keep it an open option," Their eyes filled with tears, "And now look, they've gone! Vanished!"

Another long silence. Eddie was staring at the table. Though he wanted to remain strong for Frank he knew that he couldn't deny those feelings any longer.

Eddie spoke with emotion thick in his voice, "Wally leaves letters addressed to Y/N."

"Yeah?" Frank turned away, pain evident on their face, "And what does he say?"

"He says he wants to find a way to get these letters to 'em. I told him I'd find a way," Eddie chuckled at this, but his eyes were wet with unshed tears, "There's no impossible task for a guy like me."

They eyed Eddie's profile, "I think we could make that a reality," Frank spoke quietly.

Eddie narrowed his eyes as he sat up straighter, "How so, darling?"

"Dear, and don't be mad," Stepping away from the sink, a flicker of fear crossed Frank's face, "I was looking around the area Y/N was last seen, uh, for the void Wally keeps talking about."

"And why would you go and do something dangerous like that?" Eddie was trying his best to remain calm, he stood up from his seat and walked closer to his husband, "What if you went and got dragged down, too? Who knows what's on the other end of that thing!"

"I get it! I really, really do!"

"Is that so, Frank?" Eddie responded.

"Hear me out, please?" Frank stepped closer to Eddie, arms crossed and eyes searching.

Eddie softened as he looked into Frank's eyes, "Please be careful, that's all I'm asking of you," Eddie spoke softly as he embraced Frank.

Frank sighed, relaxing into the hug, "I think I found the hole."

"What? What do you mean?" Eddie looked down at Frank. He was holding him by his shoulders squeezing ever so slightly.

"I.. dropped a note through it not too long ago. It's right next to a field of wild pumpkins." Frank shifted on his feet.

"Was the note for Y/N?" Eddie asked. His hands rubbed along Frank's arms.

"Yes, and, well, see this is where it gets strange."

Frank stepped away from Eddie. Their bag was resting by the kitchen doorway. They picked it up and brought it over to the table where they dug around for something. Eventually Frank removed a notebook, and inside the notebook was a neatly folded note.

Frank looked at Eddie, "I got a response."

[callalillywrites]

Steve's Choice

I've been listening to a bunch of music (old and new) while working on various projects. A few songs have struck inspirational chords and are bringing about a few different upcoming stories.

Find Version 2 of this song here.

Here is the first story based on this song:

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (can be read as gender neutral)

Word Count: 695

Summary: The time heist had been successful. Thanos was destroyed. It was time to put the Stones back where they belonged. Steve volunteered, and you knew it would be the last time you saw him.

Warnings: Bittersweet ending, angst, amicable breakup

A/N: It’s proofread but all mistakes are my own.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

*****

Steve was leaving.

You could feel it in your bones.

He stood near the platform Bruce had quickly assembled after Tony’s funeral. The Stones packed neatly and carefully in the briefcase Steve held. He’d just hugged Bucky. An inner joke shared between them.

Then, Steve stepped back, swiveling on his heels.

The distance between you had never felt longer though he covered it in a few steps.

A watery smile graced your features as you looked upon the man you loved for the last time.

“Hey, I’ll be back soon,” Steve said, the promise falling flat. His gaze never quite reached yours as he said the words. It confirmed the truth you’d known was a long time in coming.

You shook your head. “No, you won’t, and it’s okay, Steve.”

“But –”

“Steve, I love you. I think I’ve loved you since we met in New York eleven years ago,” you paused to gather yourself and retain what composure you had left, “but I’m not where you belong. I never was.”

“Angel, I…” Steve let the words die.

You could tell he wanted to lie to you. To tell you everything you wanted to hear.

A week ago, you would’ve wanted to hear the lies. You would’ve wanted to cling to him and believe them. But it wasn’t meant to be. It never was. His heart has and will always belong to Peggy Carter.

Before he could try and regroup, you pressed a hand to his mouth. “Please, I don’t want or need you to lie to me, Steve. This isn’t your fault, and I don’t need you to make this better. You didn’t do anything wrong. I won’t have you thinking you have.”

This time, you paused to swallow the emotion clogging your throat. It took you another minute to collect yourself and give him a genuine smile.

“Go and get your girl, Cap. She’s waiting for you. I just know it.”

You rose on your tiptoes one last time. With a soft kiss to his cheek, you whispered, “Be happy, Steve. You deserve everything this world has ever offered and taken from you. You’ve settled and compromised since you came out of the ice. It’s time for you to be a little bit selfish, even if that means you’re not mine.”

Steve stared at you for several moments, his eyes growing misty at your words.

Before you could step back, he’d set the briefcase down and grabbed you. His arms wrapped tightly around you while his cheek nuzzled against yours.

He didn’t say anything at first, but he finally whispered, “I really hope you find your one, Angel. You are not someone’s compromise or someone who should be settled for. I do love you, and I always will.”

A single tear streaked down your cheek. “I know. Maybe saying goodbye won’t be a bad thing. At least that’s what I’m hoping.”

His arms tightened around you, impossibly tight, then he slowly released you.

When he picked up the briefcase again, he tapped your chin like he was prone to do all the years you’ve known him. In the same soft voice, he said, “Don’t hate me too much, please.”

“I could never hate you, Steve. No matter how hard I might try to.”

With that, he gave a final smile, then turned toward the platform and suited. It was time to return the stones to their rightful places along the timeline. He had some branches to nip before they took hold and created issues within the universe.

In a blink, he was gone.

Five seconds, Bruce had said.

Those seconds came and went without Steve’s return.

Then again, you knew they would.

He’d gone back to Peggy. Just like you knew he would.

Bruce and Sam argued on how to get him back and what to do with whatever had gone wrong.

Turning to Bucky, you nodded towards your car and asked, “Want a lift? I think there’s a bar in town, and I know I could use a drink.”

Bucky, forever a friend, fell into step beside you. After a moment, he asked, “You okay?”

You spared a glance at the platform, then met his gaze. “I will be.”

*****

Main Masterlist / Song Fic Masterlist

[adinathinternationalindia]

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[gingerjunhan]

boyfriend headcannons - kim jungsu

☆彡 letting the delusions win once again so Jungsu stans come get y’all juice!!!!!

word count: 713 | pronouns used: none | genre: fluff, established relationship | cws: all caps used, he’s blushing, I’m blushing, we’re all blushing, let me know if I missed anything!! 🩷

← previous member | next member →

starting off by saying that in my head Jungsu is the most Boyfriend™️ member of xh and nobody can change my mind!!!!!!!!

he’s also the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen??? okay moving on

he strikes me as a romantic!!!

not like, Seungmin type of romantic though (although there can be some overlap)

he’s the type of romantic that knows your coffee order by heart

watches “chick flicks” with you over and over again

always puts your needs before his

willing to drop everything for you

gives you his hoodie the second he sees you shiver

does absolutely nothing without asking if you’re okay/ comfortable with it!!!!

that type of romantic

“that’s literally the bare minimum-“ SHUT UP it's the little things that count

anyways moving on

I know I’ve mentioned this before in a fic somewhere but Jungsu is so so so SO respectful and he just wants to make sure everyone is happy and safe so I can see him wanting to have a long, in-depth conversation with you about boundaries

you’re both in this relationship because you love and care for one another, and he’s not gonna let you forget it!!

he is so madly in love with you it physically hurts him

like,,,, YOU chose HIM???? he can’t wrap his mind around it

he knew you were “the one” shortly into your relationship

hype man

imagine him wrapping his arms around you while you’re looking at your outfit and he just makes eye contact with you in the mirror and hits you with the “you look so pretty today baby” and then gives you a little kiss wherever he can reach UGHHHHHH THIS MAN

MATCHING OUTFITS MATCHING OUTFITS

“Oh you’re wearing blue today? Okay good to know.” and then he immediately goes and changes

I can picture Jungsu as the type who finds it really hard to sleep without you

like,, he needs a cuddle buddy

but in public?

people would never guess that

I talked about this in my PDA fic, but I don’t think Jungsu is big into PDA

like, aww you’re holding hands? that’s enough 🧍🏻‍♀️

he gives me the vibe that he doesn’t like seeing other people’s PDA so he doesn’t do it either LMAOOO (me too)

okay I talked about this with Gunil so I feel the need to bring it up again

your family loves him

if you have siblings or cousins who are younger than you?? they ADORE HIM

Jungsu gives me lovely big brother energy and in my head I think he’s be great with kids (ignore those Rock The World episodes lol)

give this man a toddler I need to see it

imagine coming home to Jungsu and your kid and Jungsu is dressed up in some silly costume, too wrapped up in the child’s land of make-believe to realize you walked in the door

he’s just so sweet :(

okay okay okay so if you couldn’t tell by the fact that I think I’ve mentioned them in every single Jungsu fic I’ve written… I love Jungsu’s broad shoulders

Jungsu is just so big and strong and I’m swooning right now

he’s so tall and pretty and UGH what if I cry

you can’t reach something?

he’s picking you up

you’re feet hurt?

piggyback ride

he’s giving you the Princess Treatment™️ truly

I also feel like Jungsu gives the best hugs in xh

those arms of his 😵‍💫 hugging machines

the feeling of being wrapped up in his strong arms and broad shoulders oh my god

safety

he’s like if a fuzzy blanket was a guy

he’s just so awesome I love Jungsu dude

I can also imagine having some good late night talks with Jungsu

telling secrets and sharing stories

he’s not afraid to be emotional in front of you!

within the first month of your relationship you saw him cry and tbh he’s so real for that

he can put up the front that he’s all tough or whatever but that facade cracks with you around

he’s just so blushy and giggley with you!

Jungsu totally believes that you bring out the best in him, and he’s so glad to be with you

he commonly fantasizes about his future with you

he’s so excited to spend forever with you :(((

taglist⁉️: @dazzlingligth , @mini-mews , comment to be added!

[sirthisisa-wendys]

I’m the one who asked about the flashback for Ran! Just sending it back as you asked :) I’m so excited to see what you came up with, I was racking my brain for something and I couldn’t come up with an exact scenario. I just love the way you write his raw emotions and how much he loves the reader, and is tortured by what happened to her, and them suffering through the aftermath even though Mikey’s gone.

I actually found a plot point I missed when reviewing the old parts of the story! FLASHBACK FLASH BACK (you'll get another "flashback" after this one that rounds them out. I'm taking this concept and running with it.)

Hand Her Over (Part 7 - A FLASHBACK): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: calculating...

tw: flashback, angst, drinking

masterlis

Hand Her Over Megapost

The cap to the wine bottle comes undone with a loud pop. Ran tilts the glass just so, intent on catching every single drop left in the almost empty bottle. He's not sure when he started drinking again, but on nights like these, he doesn't give a shit.

No, he knows when he started drinking again. He remembers the exact moment the bottle reappeared in the fridge. That morning, he found you standing in the front yard, letting the freezing breeze and snow into the foyer.

"Sleepwalking," Ran had said at the time, excusing your behavior as a machination of your nightmares. He wasn't sure how long you'd been out there or how many times you'd done something like this. But it startled the shit out of him so bad he had to drink to ease his nerves.

Ran waits for some semblance of the dulling effect to take over. He needed to forget how you stood there, feet covered in snow, cheeks flushed bright red, and shivering. You'd been so cold and--

Ran's grip on the bottle falters. He watches in slow motion as the bottle crashes to the floor, resulting in shards of glass skittering about the wine-slicked tile. Ran feels his head loll, and he stares at the mess, wondering how he'd pick it up now. His feet are bare, too.

You come ambling toward the kitchen moments later, your eyes taking in the scene with alarm. But you don't say anything. Well, save a soft "ow".

"Shit," Ran bites out, finally reacting to the scene, spurred into action due to your injury.

And that's how things started, isn't it?

He knew Mikey was no good. He knew things had gone too far. He knew... he fucking knew and yet... He hadn't done shit about it until you'd gotten hurt.

"Piece of glass in your foot?" Ran wonders, still stuck to his stance in the middle of it. You nod. Ran picks his way around the mess, narrowly avoiding a shard himself, and scoops you into his arms. His senses are slowly dulling, but he had enough time to get you some help before he crashed.

The trip to the bedroom is short, and Ran sits you on the bed, whispering, "Don't move." You don't, and he pads toward the bathroom where the first aid kit awaits him. As he rifles through the box, memories come back to him of you doing the same thing: patching up his scrapes, putting ice packs on his bruises, disinfecting the scabs and gross knife cuts...

When had he ever done that for you?

Never.

He reappears with tweezers and a few large band aids, placing them on the floor before sitting down. He spots the offender almost instantly, though it's not large. Ran takes the tweezers and gently pulls the shard free without much difficulty. You whimper in pain, but it's momentary. Fingers work at patching your wound up with two band-aids and then Ran pats your leg with as much affection as he can muster.

"All better." The statement is punctuated with a gentle kiss against your ankle, and when he rises, he sees the fat tears that have rolled down your face. You wipe them away just as Ran feels the effects of the wine take hold. Things are a little hazy, but he has just enough strength to put you back in bed comfortably.

"I'm going to pay for this for the rest of my life, aren't I?" he whispers to no one, his mind rolling with scenarios as he stumbles into the recliner nearby.

The world is swimming but Ran grips the edges of the recliner before easing himself into it while gritting his teeth. All of his life he'd been the one to watch as someone else handled the messes, handled the delinquents, handled the repercussions of his own actions. Hell, until he raised his gun and fired six bullets into Mikey's chest, he hadn't handled shit for himself. Not really.

Bonten's undoing came as quickly as Ran had told Mikey to fuck himself, to which Mikey's haunted face replied, "You wife would know something about that, wouldn't she?"

The squeezing in Ran's chest started just as soon as he pulled the trigger, clickclickclickclick-ing until the gun itself was empty, and then some more for good measure. By the time Rindou had found him slumped against the desk beside a very dead Mikey, Ran had fired seven blanks and sixteen shots.

Money had changed hands, faces disappeared, people forgot who they were and where they lived and who Ran was, the news ran only one cycle talking about Mikey's death. The rest had been lost to time. And yet, here he is, sitting and stuck in that same spiral he'd allowed himself to get stuck in.

All for you.

Ran's eyes slide to his prize, your face turned towards him and eyes blinking in the dim light of the bedroom. "Hey," he whispers softly, trying for a gentle smile. "I'm alright. Get some sleep." You continue to stare at him and Ran knows instinctively that he's drunker than he ought to be.

"I'll get off the bottle soon," he murmurs, looking away in shame. "Promise."

You turn over to the other side and sigh but Ran can't bring himself to promise you anything else. He'd already brought so much pain into your life, and here he was, doing it again.

The image of you standing in front yard catches him off guard again. Maybe you were trying to get away from him. You'd walked so far--

Ran looks back over at you and feels the black hole in his chest yawn. It stings. The thought of you trying to escape from him burns like hell and he can't--

Ran stifles a gasp for air.

He can't bear the thought of you trying to leave. You had every right - you really did - to run away and find someone who would make you happy. He wouldn't blame you if you did want a divorce and wanted to leave his name. He killed for you, but that meant nothing in the face of your happiness.

It meant--

Ran's mind slips.

He'd count it all up to his payment for so many years of shit and terror and chaos. Surely--

The black hole opens a little wider and the world tilts.

You would be happy.

Ran grips the chair with both of his arms, hearing Mikey's voice in his ears.

"But you don't really love her, do you?"

I do, he wants to shout back at the ghost, challenging it.

The wine... it's the wine that's addling his mind. He's not normally like this - not so insecure, not so needy, but--

She'd be better off without you.

Ran jolts up and hurries out of the bedroom, running his hands through his hair and feeling the panic rush through his veins. There's only one way, one way to alleviate this.

This crushing guilt, the shame, the damn agony he feels at having to do all of this over and over and over again. Reliving his worst nightmare is like driving a stake through his skull, and he can't fucking take it anymore.

The front door swings wide and Ran bursts through it, his body propelling him to run. The urge rages through him, and his breath comes out in bursts of white air. If he had asthma like Rindou, he'd already be winded, but he's got tears freezing against his cheeks, the wind biting at his skin, and--

Ran comes to a stop at the end of the street.

What the hell is he doing?

He bends over, trying to catch his breath, and sees himself through his neighbor's eyes. Here is Ran Haitani, in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, running in the dead of winter with no shoes on. And he laughs.

Ran laughs and laughs and laughs.

He laughs so hard he has to sit down in the snow and hold his sides like a maniac.

Suddenly, he understands Sanzu. He understands the way he copes with things. He can't run; not now. Not when you're at home, needing protection. Ran ambles back up the driveway, still chuckling to himself out of disappointment more than humor.

He couldn't even outrun his own problems. A shame, he thinks, shutting the front door and latching it. What a shame I've turned out to be.

[raccoonfallsharder]

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. part one. prepare for departure.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist next part | main masterlist

angst, comfort, friendship, & fluff for @hibatasblog rocket & wanda | part 1/7 | word count: 1371.

rocket gets a very-important mission from danvers and needs a partner to go with him. enter the witch.

It is a well-documented fact (I know you know) that in the comic books, many of the marvel ladies have a thing for Rocket Raccoon. How could they not? Eyes like red beryls and pyropes, teeth and wit both so sharp they can kill long before the perfectly-aimed gravity-blast. Intuition off the charts, not to mention the things they've heard he can do with that tail...

Alas, this is not the comics. This is the MCU, some time between 2018 and 2023.

And while everything else remains more or less the same, Wanda Maximoff was not turned into ash.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Rocket says, rolling his eyes.

Wanda isn’t sure what to call him. He looks like a raccoon, but insists that he isn’t one. Maybe he’s an alien. Maybe he’s something else. Either way, he’s rolling his eyes at Natasha, so hard that his whole head rolls with them.

“Look, I got a very important mission from Danvers, and Nebs is busy right now, working with Kraglin to make Knowhere a more hospitablistic place for Snap refugees. D’you wanna fuck over a bunch of Snap refugees, Nat?”

He crosses his arms and raises a brow up at the new leader-apparent of the Avengers. If Wanda hadn’t felt so — nothing at all, actually — she might have let a smirk curl the corner of her mouth. He’s kind of a brat, and he knows how to get under peoples’ skin. When she’d been a child, she would have found that entertaining. Endearing. She supposes she’d used to have a soft spot for scrappy survivors. Then she’d had to stop having a soft spot for anything but her brother.

Then —

“Goddammit, Rocket. Go to Washington, then. I don’t care. But we still need the Benatar.”

His challenging look turns into a glower. “Fuck off, Nat. What am I supposed to do, then? Drive your frickin’ car?”

Natasha flaps a hand at him distractedly from behind her desk. “Yes, that’s fine, take the car—”

The look he gives her is withering. “I can’t reach the fuckin’ pedals, Nat. So unless you’re giving me permission to take the whole inefficient machine apart an’ put it back together to suit my needs, you’re gonna have to—”

“I can’t spare anyone, Rocket,” the Russian snaps.

“And I can’t be alone right now,” he snaps right back. Wanda’s eyes flick back and forth between them. 

Natasha grits her teeth. “You said this was a mission from Carol?”

“Yes,” he hisses, tapping one booted foot impatiently. 

She closes her eyes and sighs heavily, leaning back in her chair and pressing her fingers into her temples. “Fine,” she says at last, drawing the word out — petulantly, Wanda thinks from a great distance. “Find someone who’s willing to go with you and I’ll tell you if I can spare them.”

Rocket doesn’t hesitate. Without moving anything but his arm, he’s brandishing a single dark claw in Wanda’s direction.

“I’ll take the witch.”

Five years earlier — in the first days after the Snap, before they’d left all their hope on 0259-S with Thanos’ headless body — everyone else had belonged to somebody. Cap and Nat had each other, and Nat had Banner and the arrow-guy. Rhodey had the rich guy who thought he was a genius, and the rich guy had that other redhead. Thor had maybe lost the most, but he had Banner too, and his buddies from Sakaar. The Dora Milaje had their whole sisterhood. Only Danvers might have been on her own — but as far as Rocket had been able to tell, Captain Marvel hadn’t seemed to have a lotta close ties she was mourning.

But Rocket — Rocket had nobody. 

Again.

Nobody except Gamora’s sister, whose name he’d kept forgetting.

Of course, there was the witch. 

Disproportionate number of redheads on this planet, he remembers thinking bemusedly.

He hadn’t been able to remember her name for a while either, but unlike everyone else on Terra, she’d seemed almost as alone as he was. And he hadn’t been able to help but watch her, his eyes slanting sideways to stare at her as she’d sat by herself across the room, hands anchored around upper arms. He couldn't make out the color of her eyes — they’d seemed impossibly dark, with rage or grief or something else, something haunted.  

Except for when they’d smouldered like furious banked fires. 

She’d never said a frickin’ word, either: face blank and beautiful as a statue’s. Her silence had felt more surreal than any other stupid thing he’d encountered in space, which he supposed was probably just because he’s spent the last four years with a family of weirdos who’d never seemed able to shut the fuck up. 

Still. He’d tilted his head when the other avengers had walked past her — watched as they’d seemed almost to forget she was even there. They’d barely talked to her, and once, when they’d been ordering lunch, they’d missed her entirely.

Uh — you didn’t ask the witch what she wants, Rocket had said to Nat awkwardly, and the assassin had blinked and her eyes had hunted the whole room before they’d finally focused on the other woman — like she hadn’t even known where her fellow-Avenger was. 

No. The witch had been an outcast. And Rocket has always known something about outcasts. His whole frickin’ family — both, some small part of his brain had tried to speak up before he could smother it; both families were made of the unwanted — his whole frickin’ family had been outcasts and misfits. It had made some part of Rocket’s heart suddenly stretch in his chest. It had reached with grasping fingers, trying to hang onto something he’d already known he’d lost.

Family.

The next day, Rocket had cleared his throat and told Gamora’s sister that he was gonna go starside to touch base with Kraglin on the Third Quadrant — to see if he still exists, he hadn’t said, but he’d been pretty sure the cyborg had picked it up. 

“You wanna come, Blue?” he’d asked — wincing when his nonchalance had been too thin to be believable. But the Luphomoid had inclined her head, eyes dark and steady. When that had been squared away — surprisingly a hell of a lot easier than he’d thought — he’d  shuffled to his feet, and headed to the bench outside the compound, where the witch had been sitting since sunrise.

He’d stood in her line of vision and stared at the sky too, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, tail trying to tuck itself underneath him. It had probably been a full twenty minutes before he’d felt her eyes on him.

“I. Uh. I heard you lost your robot-boyfriend.” The words had been as clumsy as an orloni drunk on fermented Asgardian figs, but he’d been trying.

The witch’s eyes had flared, crimson-bright. “Robot?” she’d repeated dangerously.

Rocket’s ears had flicked back and he’d taken a step away, into the grass: hands extended, palms out.

“Hey, m’not trying to be a dick,” he’d protested. “I think I might be part-robot myself.” He’d stabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the Benatar, where he could feel  his new blue companion staring holes in his back. “Gamora’s sister’s almost all-robot, too.” 

He could also feel the sister in question rolling her eyes. 

“M’just saying,” he’d muttered at both of them, hunching his shoulders and half-turning to kick a patch of grass. “Some of us are solo now.” He’d gestured at the cyborg again. “Might be good to stick together.” 

“I was used to being solo,” Nebs had pointed out, and Rocket had winced. “You’re the one who got attached.”

His ears had flattened. “Whatever,” he’d growled. “Just thought — whatever.” He’d spun again, kicking more grass, and muttered bitterly under his breath. “So much for trying to be the captain. So much for trying to look out for the damn strays.”

“You’re the stray,” Nebula had replied with a mutinous jut of her chin — and how the fuck had she heard him? That wasn’t standard Luphomoid hearing range. 

Rocket had cursed whatever aural implants Thanos had given her. 

Then the witch had made a strange sound behind him — a little huff of breath.  A disbelieving, agonized little shred of laughter.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist next part | main masterlist

During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR

[catch-needed-hobbies]

Little AEW x Pokémon thingy feat. Hook and Orange Cassidy

Orange Cassidy was not an energetic guy; a lot of people confused it with apathy but that implied he didn’t care about things. He cared about things but he just couldn’t be bothered to show his excitement most times. Right now as he watches what is in his opinion the most adorable exchange he’s bore witness to, he thinks about how other people probably think he doesn’t care at all. They’d be wrong.

“They’re still at it?” For the first time in the ten minutes it took his tag-partner to return from the vending machine, Orange looks away from the scene in front of him to address Hook, who has a bag of Doritos in his hands now.

“Yeah. They have not stopped. It’s very cute.” Just from the tone, you wouldn’t guess that Orange had already taken about a hundred pictures so he can look back at them later.

In that moment, Hook’s Pokémon partner finished his little lap around the locker room once again, capping it off by jumping up high enough to kick the berry laying on top of Snorlax’s head perfectly and into the painted target behind.

As the little Raboot began another lap, running past his trainer and his tag-partner as he did, Snorlax grabbed two berries from the bowl, eating one then placing the other on his head.

Their trainers meanwhile, watched in silence. It was a good exercise for Raboot; Snorlax was very tall for the little Fire type, even when sitting down, so he was getting some good high kick practice.

As another berry hit the bullseye perfectly and Raboot began to run again, Snorlax reached toward the bowl only to show the first bit of emotion of the day as he realized they were out of berries.

Well you did eat about half of them bud. Orange thought seeing his companion shake the bowl as if that would magically make more berries appear.

Raboot reached the larger ‘Mon and jumped up high only to stop in his tracks mid kick, noticing the lack of a target on his buddy’s head.

Gracefully, he let himself fall back down and kick at the floor a little in frustration. But soon enough, he put his little paws back in the pouch on his belly—Taz would always laugh at how “Of course you’d have a Pokémon with built in hoodie pockets Hook”—and walked back to his trainer, putting out a single paw in the air.

Hook in return, lowered the Doritos bag to his partner and let the little guy grab a singular chip that he began munching on like a piece of lettuce.

Orange just stared curiously. “Should he be eating that?” It was a genuine concern; he knew certain Pokémon couldn’t eat chocolate for example, what would a Dorito do to one of them?

“Yeah, I’ve seen him eat coal out of fireplaces so, I think he’ll be fine. Not the first time he’s had one anyway.” And with that silence befell the locker room again. Raboot began playing with one of the rocks he kept in his pockets and Snorlax—surprising no one—fell asleep on the floor.

It didn’t matter; their tag match wasn’t for another 20 minutes. They could just rest for now.

[jess050605]

Welcome to the Factory

Willy wonka x Reader

Chapter 1

The Bucket Life

Y/N lives in a house at the end of the street a few blocks away from Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, You live with your Mum, Dad, Grandparents (Grandpa George, Grandma Georgina, Grandma Josephine and Grandpa Joe) and your little Brother Charlie, Y/N and Charlie has always wanted to meet Mr Willy Wonka himself but his Factory was closed for many years and he never came out but Grandpa Joe worked for Mr Wonka For years but was fired when Mr Wonka closed the Factory: 

One Night Y/N and everyone else was waiting for dinner to be ready and Y/N and charlie's Dad walks in after a day of work. Dad: "Evening Buckets",  "Evening" says Grandpa Joe "Hi Dad" Charlie And I Both say. "Charlie i found something i'd think you'd like" Dad said taking squished up toothpaste caps from his pocket and putting them on the table. "Exactly what i need!" Charlie says excitingly. "What is it Charlie?" I say while Charlie pulls out a whole model of Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory made out of Toothpaste caps and putting the one of the pieces that was on the table and put it on a little person "Dad Found it! the piece i needed" Charlie says excitingly "And what piece was it Charlie?" Grandpa Joe says curiously "A head for Willy Wonka" answers Charlie "Its Wonderful Charlie" I say with Joy "Yes very delightful is a quite a lightness" Grandpa Joe Says "You think so Grandpa?" I say "Think so? I know so, I saw Willy Wonka with my own Two eyes, I used to work with him you know?" He Says "You did?" Charlie says "He did" Says Grandma Josephine and Grandpa George "I love Grapes" says Grandma Georgina. "But I was a much younger man in those days" Grandpa Joe said. *time skip to after the story and while we were eating dinner after Grandpa Joe was talking about when Willy Wonka closing his Factory* "But it didn't close Forever.., its open right now" Charlie said "Well when Grown ups say Forever they mean a very long time.." Mum said, "And it seemed like it was gonna be forever but then we saw smoke coming out of the chimneys the Factory was back in business" Grandpa Joe said Joyfully "Did you get your Job back" I asked Grandpa Joe and He looked a me and answered "no.... no one did" disappointingly his smile going away "But there must be people working there.." I said, "Think about it Y/N Have you ever seen a single person going into that Factory or coming out of it" Grandma Josephine asks me "no the gates are always closed" I say "Exactly" Grandpa Joe said "Then who is running the machines?" Charlie asks, "No body knows Charlie" Mum tells him "Certainly is a Mystery" Dad says. "I would give anything in the world just to go in and see whats become of that amazing Factory...." I say hoping if i ever do get to go in the Factory but then Grandpa George Interrupts me "Well you wont, cause you cant no one can its a mystery and it will always be a mystery that little factory of yours Charlie is the closest as we are gonna get.." He said with a bit of anger then Mum stood up "come on Y/N and Charlie i thinks its about time to let your Grandparents get some sleep" Mum told us "Okay mum" We both say and we hugged everyone and said goodnight when we hugged Grandma Georgina she said "nothings impossible Y/N" and we both smiled at her, Charlie went of to bed i went to my bed "Goodnight everyone" He said "Goodnight Charlie" we all say and i went to him and gave him a kiss on his forehead, smiled and went back to my bed and went to sleep.