#safety captain

[pit-crew-chronicles]

Design Lead’s sister and I have begun to describe Goncharov to the safety Captain. 😏

[a-girl-who-loves-disney]

This is SO GOOD. Love the action at the very start, love Sarah being in it, love the moms encouraging Steve to take y/n out and love that this is so sweet and cute and that there is a next chapter happening ;)

Wonderful job!

Safety Captain (1)

lifeguard!Steve Rogers x vacationer!Reader (see series)

Summary: A very sexy man shows up at a very unsexy moment during your vacation.

Warnings for mild language, other guests being as thirsty as Reader, and a vague injury/danger. WC 1945

Written for @bigtreefest's Summer Lovin' 300 follower celebration (I'm very late tho 🥲), using the prompts “it hurts when I ___” “then stop doing that” and pool/resort/hotel. There will be a few small parts to this with eventual smut; this is just the meet-cute sorta.

If you consider drowning a peaceful and relaxing experience, then your trip’s going splendidly.

Water hitting your lungs stings much worse than sunscreen in your eyes, but the shock makes you gasp anyway. Your skin feels pressure everywhere. You don’t know which way is up. The world is bright and blue and shimmering until an arm encircles and yanks you backward by your chest—your bare chest, you realize, since the cups on your bathing suit top flipped when you hit the the pool at such a steep angle.

Once at the surface, a gift and a curse greets you, garbled hum replaced by a solid slap of screaming, the blare of whistles. Light burns, water burns, air burns.

Oh yes, this is going swimmingly.

You struggle to get enough fresh hell anyway, coughing out water, air stinging worse. Your limbs contract to fight the pain, but the wall of muscle behind you is unyielding.

“Out of the way,” a deep voice shouts close to your ear. “Buck, make me some room. Get them back.”

He—whoever he is holding you so firmly and safely—moves you to the shallow end’s stairs with heaving strokes, and just when he releases your body to lift you out of the water, he quickly flicks the front of your suit back into place.

Bless you, kind sir. You’re in love…

…or maybe that’s the hypoxia.

Unceremoniously hauled to solid ground, you continue to sputter.

“It’s alright. I got ya. Breathe for me. That’s good.”

Your sunglasses are gone, so you squint up in his shadow to see nothing but a halo of dripping gold hair. Then your eyes adjust. You see him.

Suddenly, the world is bright and blue and shimmering again, all contained in the stare of your sweet savior.

When he smiles, well, you need even more air to recover.

You’re on your side until he’s sure all the water is out of you, until his hands help you sit up, looky-lous everywhere being herded farther off by two more lifeguards and some resort security.

“The boys…” you rasp out.

“Everyone’s okay,” he rushes, rubbing your back, warm and slick against your wet skin. “You don’t have to talk yet. Take it easy.”

You still feel compelled to explain.

“The—they were teasing him—“ you point to the chubbier kid in your group, the poor thing cowering by your lounge chair headquarters for the morning “—and I tried to stop them.”

“I know, shhh, I saw. Just breathe slowly.”

“Don’t like bullies,” you cough out anyway.

The lifeguard at your side grins from ear to ear, quickly interrupted by a girl shoving your sunglasses in his face.

“I found these,” she announces, elated. “I thought it was important since you were so brave, saving someone who fell in.”

You didn’t fall; you were pushed. There’s a difference.

The lifeguard’s smile turns tight, but he gestures for the girl to hand them over to their rightful owner. She continues to stare with huge, bambi eyes.

Politely, he takes them from her and clears of his throat.

“Thank you. Now step back please.”

Her disappointment is palpable before his blue gaze returns to you. As he asks if you’re ready to move, his palm lands on your lower back and stays there supportively.

The best you can do is shift your legs beneath each other and then hiss, “it hurts when I put weight on this leg. I think I twisted my ankle on the way down.”

“Then stop doing that,” he chuckles, swooping to get his arms under you and carry you to your lounger—the right one, immediately, as if he saw the boys fighting but knew exactly where you were before then, too.

The stout little thirteen-year-old who’d been picked on steps up to you with guilty eyes. He’s one of your charges today while the other adults all drink at the swim-up bar.

“I’m sorry they—“

“It’s fine,” you croak.

“—but they wouldn’t stop, and I told them to—“

“Hey, hey,” your lifeguard whispers, deflating the boy’s panic, “she’s gonna be okay. Just a little banged up, but we got the best of the best coming to help.”

Shamefully, the boy’s eyes turn down. “Sorry they called you a ‘bitch.’”

Great. Yeah. That needed to be repeated.

“Don’t worry about it. Can you go grab your cousin and—“ a brief wheeze overtakes you “—the girls and bring everyone back here so I know where you all are? Just a real quick check-in.”

He nods and runs off, almost plowing into a woman heading straight for you.

“Ah, your nurse has arrived.” The handsome, dripping wet man sitting with a hand still on your knee beams. “The best of the best, as promised.”

The older blonde lady purses her lips and rolls her eyes, ticking her head to the side. “Scoot, Steven. Let me have a look.”

He—Steven, apparently—rambles off what happened and what you mentioned hurt, standing out of the blonde’s way, but leaning over her shoulder, hovering while she manipulates your ankle.

“Thank you, darling.” She looks up pointedly. “I’ve got it from here,” she says, turning back to you. “I’m Sarah, dear. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

“I’m Steve,” your lifeguard interjects as he backs away. “Glad you’re alright, Miss…?”

You introduce yourself in return. “Thanks for…um…” You glance down and tug at the front of your swim suit, remembering that this man might have already seen and touched your breasts. “Thank you,” you finish weakly, voice hoarse.

Steve beams again before Sarah swats him away.

While she wraps your ankle and anchors a bag of ice to it, you scan the guard towers to realize all three of the guys on duty are ripped, but Steve is…well, he’s something else.

“God, he’s gorgeous,” you sigh aloud without realizing.

Sarah snorts, muttering, “he gets that a lot.”

You smile, thinking it’s probably no secret that the cute guy gets around. “Bit of a man whore, is he?” you joke.

The nurse looks up at you sternly. “I should hope not! I raised him better than that.”

Shit.

Your face drops, a harsh and painful swallow globs down your throat, and you…just objectified that poor man to his mother who he so sweetly called ‘the best of the best.’

Is drowning totally off the table, or can you revisit that?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—I—I just meant—“

She squeezes your hand, putting you out of your misery.

“It’s fine, dear. He is handsome, and I suppose there’s no harm in looking.” She packs away the last of her gear only to catch Steve’s eye across the pool.

He waves in your direction.

Sarah chuckles but doesn’t wave back. You put a quick hand up and mouth ‘thank you’ even though he probably can’t see that part.

“Well,” the nurse adds, “seems you aren’t the only one looking.”

Having one foot twice the size of the other can work. You can make it work. You’ll just camp out on a beach towel farther up the shore, no problem. The whole party is together today, day three of seven, so the good news is that you aren’t responsible for anyone. Also, your foot is only that size due to bandaging and not because it’s that swollen. Still hurts though.

In addition to a wicked limp, you need a relatively hard surface to sit on or stand up from. You end up on the rim of damp sand, wriggling to get comfortable. You try laying on your side, propped up on a bent arm. You try your stomach. You’re about try your back, reaching for one of the kids�� towels to roll up as a pillow when you notice a group playing volleyball.

Must be fun to, like, walk and stuff.

You sigh.

It’s fine. You are lucky enough to be on this trip in the first place, your ticket paid for by all the parents combined (with the agreement you’ll help wrangle the younglings for periods while the moms and dads do adult activities). The ‘job’ is a wildly fair trade since the families only split so far was the pool yesterday.

Is that…is one of the volleyball players waving at you?

You look over your shoulder, but there’s only the rest of your group, splashing and running through the surf. No one is facing you or the game.

As you turn back, starting to raise your hand, you see the golden glow of the player’s hair and think that sure resembles the lifeguard, Steve, from—

The guy waving at you gets hit, hard, by a spiked ball and stumbles back. Some commotion rumbles through the group, but you can’t hear specifics.

Shit, that is definitely Steve, son of Sarah, employee of the pool, jogging toward you. Are your tits covered?

You awkwardly pull yourself upright, shielding your eyes from the partially-overcast, bright sky, and smile.

“Hey,” Steve chirps, “thought that was you.” He is, again, in naught but board shorts and beauty.

“Yup, living the dream.”

He ignores your sarcasm and asks how your ankle feels (“meh”), if it’s messed with your plans so far (“had to bow out of zip lining this morning”), and if he might be welcome to sit with you for a while.

You blink a few times in shock behind dark sunglasses. “Won’t your friends…?”

He shakes his head, hair falling into his face, and drops down to the sand.

“I don’t see why not,” you say after he’s made himself comfortable.

When the littlest girl from your group comes shrieking over, bucket and scoop in her hands, you’re about to apologize for the interruption, but Steve immediately offers to help her build the castle of a lifetime.

He is sure to warn her to be careful around your foot.

This time, when you mouth ‘thank you,’ he sees it and returns another beaming grin.

Alright, perhaps vacation is looking up.

Steve is…very, very good at strategizing the sandcastle. After the first ‘tower’ goes up, the other kids get involved. Before you know it, the parents are all behind you gushing over how good your friend is with them.

"Handsome, too."

"Lots of energy."

"‘Bout your age, isn’t he?"

They aren’t quiet enough to not be heard which is clearly the point once the mother of bucket girl shouts out that Steve should join you all for dinner.

Oh, sweet holy—

“Not sure I wanna dive into your family time, ma’am,” he says politely, encouraging some water be brought up for the moat they’ve just dug.

“Then you should take our lovely girl here out. Show her more of the island.”

You glare daggers at the other woman who just chimed in.

“I can’t walk,” you bite out. “Where am I gonna go?”

Steve clears his throat to get your attention. “They line food trucks over on the west road until late, and…” his lip pinches to the side “…I can carry you.”

One of the dads darkly drawls, “like a fucking princess,” and you hear a sharp slap from his wife in annoyance.

Steve’s gaze remains locked on yours as the parents erupt in obvious innuendo.

“Could be fun,” he admits, only loud enough for you. “How about it? Getting hungry?”

All you manage is a nod before a bucket of water is tossed on Steve, and he chases the culprit down the beach and into the clear blue sea.

You’ll have to wait until the ‘monster’ is vanquished by the ecstatic children jumping to take down the big, strong man you, apparently, have a date with.

[Next Chapter]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Apologies that this isn't the whole dang thing. With how long everything has been taking me to write, I was afraid it wouldn't even be summer anymore, and if there is even a small chance that posting this will light a fire under me to finish, I am willing to try.

[jojolightningfingers]

i truly truly will never stop being tickled by how law's braincell count just plummets into the negatives whenever he's around luffy and kid SPECIFICALLY at the same time. like if it's one or the other he copes more or less just fine. kid's a shit-starter but he's predictable and easy (and fun) to rile up. luffy runs on baffling logic but he's fundamentally easy to get along with so long as you maintain your zen and understand that he usually doesn't MEAN to get under anybody's skin. separately they aggravate law in different ways. but when they're together kid's penchant for starting dickswinging contests (or inability to not take the bait of one) collides with luffy unhesitatingly answering with a one-up that no sane person would conceive of and what the hell is law supposed to do against THAT fuckin wombo combo. get left behind and called a bitch for it? not goddamn LIKELY!!

[s0fter-sin]

kneeling is a broad term for what ghost does with price

surrendering is slightly more accurate but even that doesn’t hope to touch the sheer desperation in the way he clutches at him; his body bowed low at his feet, his legs latched around one of his, hugging it so tightly to his chest his arms shake as he digs his face into his thigh

it’s only here that he can finally give in to the screaming; to the distant voice he strangles into silence every day of his life. the one who begs him to make himself as small as possible; do everything he can to hide from the ever encroaching demons growling and salivating at his heels

it’s only here, in the dark of price’s barracks, hidden by a bed at his back and a wall to his front, that he finally lets himself stop running; only between solid combat boots and worn fatigues does he let himself tremble and admit to the choking fear

he’d break open price’s chest if he could; crawl past his gushing viscera and curl up under his ribs, hidden in the warm dark

ghost clawed his way out of the grave with broken nails and gritted teeth but he wouldn’t mind being buried again if it meant being cradled in the safety of price’s insides. his warm blood and soft lungs would blanket him, mask the stench of his rotten flesh until he could even convince himself that, maybe, he too was still alive

he shifts, unnerved by his own longing, and price runs his hand over the crown of his mask the same way he’d card it through his hair until he settles once more

he grounds him over the long hours it takes for his white-knuckled grip to relax into a loose hold; for his face to stop grinding into the meat of his thigh and simply rest in his lap, his bracketing legs the only thing holding his lax body up as he floats, untethered by fear

[opal-owl-flight]

Saw a post and had a vision.

(Neo3 likes to crash in 3s place from time to time, usually when shes nervous. She particularly likes it when 3s physically close — the feeling of being near someone who can protect her while shes sleeping comforts her greatly :] )

[cerealboxlore]

Billy Batson and child safety laws

I'm finally free from my studies for a little bit so I immediately brain-rotted about Billy Batson. I kept thinking back on the Fawcett Freeze and how he and a lot of other people were trapped in the past (I HC the entire town), so when introduced to the modern day world, there would be some confusion.

Not about technology, medicine, or any of that important junk.

But about the kids of that era in the modern world, being so confused about why they can't play their dangerous games anymore. They don't think there's anything wrong about the way they play, but any person from the modern age can see that there's a group of Fawcett kids playing "toss the brick in the air" and complaining that their metal playgrounds got taken away.

Billy: What do you mean we can't play in the streets anymore? Running from the speeding cars were the best part! Average adult: It's not safe! Oh my god that's just plain dangerous, you know!

Billy: Ah, kids these days. Look, sometimes some of us got bruises from having fun, and sometimes we'd get black eyes when we played Duck Duck Goose, but we were fine. No need to worry about it too much, sir.

Average Adult, shocked: H-how do you get a black eye from playing Duck Duck Goose?! How did Fawcett's kids even survive recess back then?

[kingtuna]

Alpha-17: why does Rex have a knife?

Fordo: he felt unsafe, so I gave him a knife

Alpha-17: well now I feel unsafe

Fordo: do you want a knife?

[bluegiragi]

The way Price's wing wraps protectively around Simon in your latest comic. 😭 He's really going to do anything he can to save his boy.

pre-wraithification, ghost and price already had so much tension between them but they just never properly acted on it...i tried to still show that affection between the two of them though (their relationship has so many layers)

[dykedvonte]

Curly's attempt to prioritize the crew's happiness over safety is very in line with the internal struggles he is going through with wondering if he is happy in his life and path or should he forfeit that security.

It's upsetting cause while as understandable as that projection is, the want to be happy in something you don't feel secure in, he can't see past it and allows it to clog his judgement. This is no longer a matter of happiness but safety, but he in the end was the safest member of the crew in practically every aspect. It's not something he's going to understand the weight of from his position.

His current state is also a reflection and inversion of his mindset at the beginning of the game as well as a metaphor for the exact type of endangerment Anya felt. Where as with Jimmy, he gets to feel that "safety" Curly felt with the position but the lack of happiness he perceived he had.

[rad-batson]

I used to be torn between Damian being like 5’4 forever or becoming tall like his mom and dad, but now I’m obsessed with the idea of him just suddenly sprouting to 6’5 (195) at the age of 16, surpassing his entire family by miles, but all of his friends are somehow even taller than him. Jon is 6’7, Colin is 6’6, Billy is 7’ (213) when he’s Captain Marvel. They still call him short at every opportunity, and it pisses him off almost as much as the realization that he’s also tall enough for most of daily life to now be a general nuisance.

He has to crouch to fit under shower-heads. Most door frames are a walking hazard. He gets smacked in the face with tree branches. His clothes never fit right. He has to contort himself every time Tim drives the Batmobile before him and forgets to adjust the seat back. He needs to eat SO MUCH all the the time. His feet stick off the bed. His knees don’t fit under tables. He’s still a master of stealth, but now he can’t fit through vents, and it is so fucking annoying that he regrets ever wanting to be tall and wishes he was 4’11 again.

[eli-am-confused]

I imagine this is how the psych evaluation actually went.

Curly, being completely serious: But you know what they say, sometimes you gotta go through the pit to get to the cock!

Anya, well aware how serious he’s being: Captain I am begging you to take the sleeping pills I gave you.

[pit-crew-chronicles]

Alright, since we have so many people on our team, I’m going to start to make a post of who is who on our team so I can short hand names. Prioritizing those who I interact with/post about the most:

RETURNING:

Me: former pit crew and former back up technician (one or two matches/don’t really know the job well), current mechanical engineering lead/mechanical subteam lead, Pit Boss

Technician: former Pit Crew 1 and former backup technician, programmer

Safety Captain: former Pit Crew 2

Driver: former operator

Operator: former human player, current mechanical design lead/mechanical subteam lead, still thinks Tumblr is Tindr

Business Lead: former scout

Media 1: former impact presenter and (not positive) programmer

__________________________________________

NEW:

Pit Crew 1: friend of mine from school, only other girl on Pit

Pit Crew 2: most progression since pre-season

Pit Crew 3: Last member of the original pit from Hartford, backup human player

Pit Crew 4: brother of Pit Crew 3. De facto Pit Crew after Hartford. Mostly shows up to Day 2 of comps

Human Player: programmer

Strategy Lead: also media co-lead, thank her for the insta, backup human player, drive coach’s sister

MarComm Lead: May become a scouting lead, operator’s sister

Programmer 1: backup technician, sometimes

Programmer 2: also scouts

Media 2: doesn’t come to all comps, always with Media 1.

Photographer: has the media pass at comps, sister to Pit Crew 3 and 4

Bonus: using a nickname because no set job, Main Mechanical and Electrical Mentor’s middle child, sister to former driver, helps out a lot behind the scenes, at most meetings, rarely attends comps

__________________________________________

MENTORS:

Main Mechanical: founding Mentor, lives in the pits, married to Electrical Mentor, dad of former driver and Bonus

Electrical Mentor: founding mentor, married to Main Mechanical, mom to former driver and Bonus, also does a lot of programming

Scouting Mentor: FIRST Alum, non-binary, lives and breathes scouting, loves data

Other Mechanical: switched to our team mid-season last year, pun monster, high tolerance for burns

3rd Mechanical: Married to Programming Mentor, comes to about half of meetings and comps

Programming Mentor: Married to 3rd Mech. Sillier than she first seems. Old friend of Electrical Mentor

Occasional Electrical: FIRST Alum, was more active last year, comes to a few meeting when on break (college student), formerly in charge of impact subteam

Drive Coach: brother of Strategy Lead, FIRST Alum

__________________________________________

MOJO ALUMS (that I’ve worked with):

Safetytech: graduated last year, also was programmer, planning to attend off-seasons

Driver: Main Mech and Electrical’s son, napper extraordinaire.

[ronearoundblindly]

'Safety Captain' Masterlist

lifeguard!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: An unfortunate incident leads to a most fortunate meeting, but how much of him can you enjoy in just a week of vacation?

Warnings for vague injury, language, eventual smut. More warnings at the beginning of each chapter. The full story will 🤞🏽🙏🏽 total around/under 10k. Famous last words.

Romance 🔥 || Smut 🦆 || Author Fave 🍀 || Angst ⛈️ || Fluff 🌼 || Dark Fic 🌘 || *** denotes work for all ages

Chapter One *** ⛈️🌼🔥 Chapter Two ***🌼🔥 Chapter Three 🌼🔥🦆 Chapter Four ⛈️🌼🔥🦆

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[valkyrss]

"Hold on! Don't let go!"

[wwillywonka]

Set course for Delta Vega.

1 x 04 - Where No Man Has Gone Before

[antianakin]

I'd love more exploration of Rex perhaps feeling like he got kind-of the short end of the stick in terms of Jedi. He LIKES Ahsoka, for sure, she's got a spirit he admires and she's tenacious and it's hard not to care for her. And Anakin is, well, powerful for sure and friendly enough, so for a while Rex thinks he came out pretty well with his Jedi.

But then he starts meeting other Jedi or working alongside other Jedi and he realizes how much more competent other Jedi often are, especially the more experienced ones. And while Anakin is friendly enough, he's seen a lot of the other clones have MUCH closer relationships to their Jedi and certainly none of THEM ask their captains or commanders to lie to superior officers about secret relationships or unsanctioned missions. He's a little surprised once when he notices pretty much every other Jedi remembers that the clones can't always keep up with the Jedi and will unhesitatingly adjust their battle strategy to accommodate it. He sees the way other young Padawans are being taught to do something similar, to really consider the lives of the clones when they're in battle as the higher priority rather than the success of the mission.

And Rex starts wondering what his life might be like if he had ended up with a different Jedi. He loves his men, he's proud of the work they do most of the time, and he doesn't DISLIKE the Jedi he ended up with, but sometimes he's kind-of jealous of some of his brothers and wishes he'd gotten their Jedi instead.