#champ and daisy

[navybrat817]

Focus

Pairing: Motocross!Steve Rogers x Motocross!Female Reader Summary: You have a crush on Steve Rogers, but you don't think you're his type. Word Count: Over 1k Warnings: Crush, longing, slight insecurities, swearing, nicknames, Curtis is a good friend, Motocross!Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: Finally an intro for Champ and Daisy in our Dialed In AU! Took me how long, @yenzys-lucky-charm ? Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated! ❤️

A 450 rider like Bucky with a lot of wins under his belt, Natasha was serious when she said Steve was one of the best riders in his class.

It was one of the reasons people called him “Champ”, a nickname he wasn’t overly fond of since some of the guys liked to tease him after races where he didn’t place first. It also gave him flashbacks of when he was younger and smaller, virtually ignored or told he wouldn’t excel in anything physically.

With a lot of heart and a late growth spurt, he proved them wrong.

Bucky said once that his nickname should be “Adonis” because of his now statuesque looks and the pit lizards fawning over him or “Golden Boy” because of his success and admiration.

Steve never let any of that get to his head and refused to let the pit lizards distract him. He worked hard to get where he was and continued to give it his all on and off the track every single time.

His determination was one of the many reasons you found yourself drawn to him. He was the kind of rider and person many aspired to be.

Your crush only grew the day you two actually met.

A rider yourself, you earned the nickname “Daisy” thanks to the flowers on your helmet and general sweet demeanor.

The helmet was the very thing Steve complimented you on when he walked by you at your first pro race.

You hadn’t meant to stare when he walked by, but his reputation preceeds him. Clad in red, white, and blue like a patriotic God, his blonde hair sparkled in the sunlight and his eyes looked like the sky on a cloudless day.

The sheer size of him almost made you whimper when he got closer. How a man was able to walk with such confidence and dominance yet still had an air about that said he was humble was a gift.

He even stopped to speak to a few kids who were eager to meet him and you couldn’t stop smiling when one little boy wrapped his arms around his legs in a tight hug.

Who wouldn’t fall for him?

You were certain you still had a dopey smile on your face when he looked your way.

“Beautiful.” The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down your spine when you realized he was speaking to you, which you tried to blame on pre-race jitters. “Your helmet. It’s beautiful,” he said when you didn’t reply.

You deflated slightly because of course he didn’t think you were beautiful. You were just a rider and not like the girls who flocked to him.

“Oh, thanks,” you croaked, clearing your throat immediately to try and save face. “I like daisies,” you added, mentally kicking yourself for stating the obvious. Why else would they be on your helmet?

The lopsided grin he gave you brought your smile back to your face. “You’re Daisy. Heard good things about you.”

Biting your lip and glancing away briefly, you didn’t catch his gaze following the movement. “You have?” You asked, slightly surprised that your name made the rounds.

“Yeah.” He nodded toward the track. “And I’m eager to see what you do out there.”

Your stomach did a somersault, but you held your head high. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

“I doubt you could disappoint anyone,” he quietly spoke, looking over his shoulder when Bucky called out to him. “Gotta go. Good luck out there, Daisy.”

“Thanks, Champ,” you said, shifting back and forth on your feet when he stood up straight and flexed his gloved fingers. Maybe you shouldn’t have used his nickname. “I mean, Steve.”

You couldn’t read his expression, but you felt better when he gave you one more lopsided smile. “Champ sounds nice coming from you,” he said before he walked away.

You tried not to swoon or check out his ass when he went on his way, but Curtis clocked you immediately.

“You might wanna wipe that drool off your chin before your race,” he said, nudging you with his shoulder when you glanced at the ground. “Nervous? Don't be. You’re gonna kick ass out there.”

“Not nervous,” you said, biting your lip again. “He said he heard about me.”

“Yeah. Riders talk, you know that. And the guys saw you practice, so they know you have skills,” he said, sighing when you lifted your head and longingly stared after Steve. “Look, don’t let him distract you.”

“I’m not letting him distract me,” you argued, moving your helmet between your hands. “It’s just nice to get a compliment from such a skilled rider,” you said, especially since a lot of guys had a tendency to ignore you once they knew you loved to race.

Curtis narrowed his eyes. “I’m a skilled rider and I compliment you. I don’t see you walking around with hearts in your eyes and having a little crush on me.”

Your cheeks flamed before you hit his arm. “More like you bust my nonexistent balls. That’s not the same thing,” you said.

He didn’t move an inch when you hit him, the wall of muscle that he was. “Perk of being my friend,” he deadpanned, looking in the direction that Steve went, too. “I’m not one for gossip, but Champ is single.”

You put your helmet on so your friend couldn’t see your face. “Good to know, but I doubt I’m his type,” you said.

Because why would he like you?

“Rogers is a fucking idiot if he doesn’t want a girl like you,” he said sincerely before he hit your helmet with the palm of his hand, the familiar grumpy stare back on his face. “But enough of that shit. Get out there and win your fucking race.”

Which you did.

Steve's heart skipped a beat when you removed your helmet and smiled.

Because the truth was, you were exactly his type.

And he’d sweep you off your feet if you let him.

They're sweet, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers #motocross!steve rogers x reader #motocross!steve rogers #dialed in: motocross au #champ and daisy #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers au #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader

[toomanywatchers]

me putting on a fashion show for my parents after an “i had a mental breakdown at 2am, time for retail therapy” shopping spree:

#watcher #watcher entertainment #we are watcher #wearewatcher #ryan bergara #shane madej #mystery files #champ #retail therapy #oopsie daisy #look at him all champed up

[miung-dreamer]

Daisy's movie will be in competition for the Champs Elysees Film Festival (a small festival taking place in Paris, end of June).

So for French fans maybe... If they want to discover her movie 😊

More info here :

#daisy ridley #reylo #sometimes i think about dying #champs elysees film festival

[leviathanleva]

Daisy

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Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

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Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

[Minor violence, Non-consensual choking]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 2 "The Proposition"

You wanted to say something desperately, but your mouth came dry and empty and you promptly closed it to avoid any stray specs of sand. Your neck ached from having to keep it so profoundly craned just to hold eye contact and avoid the gun from pressing against your Adam’s apple.

His boots sunk in the dune as he juggled his weight tantalizingly, prowling in front of you and looking like he was ready to pounce. He was staring at you like you weren’t even human and it made sense because he didn’t look like one. The sun scratched at your exposed shoulders and upper back, hair pooled over your face and breasts and no longer acting as a shield for your delicate skin. It hurt, it burned, your flesh felt like it was cooking on a barbeque rack, but there was nothing you could do except take it like a champ and worry about it later.

This was not how you imagined the world above to be… You never thought you’d be attacked by giant roaches or chased by deranged criminals smelling of shameless cannibalism or held at gunpoint by the man…thing, that saved your life. You never imagined it was this bad up here, so desolate and askew, everything was old, rusted, worn, and crumbling and you had half the mind to just go back and let the raiders kill you and make their threats a reality of making you into human jerky.

The gun tapping incessantly against your cheek failed to pull you out of the depths of your spinning thoughts. But when it was forcibly pressed against the center of your forehead, nearly knocking you back on your arse, you stiffened with a gasp.

Your hero was becoming impatient.

“Never seen a ghoul before, darlin’?” he asks with somewhat of a frown, his agitation brewing with your silent treatment and mindblown stare. He pranced around you, circling your kneeling, hunched-over form as you tried following his movements with doubtful eyes and a racing heart. “You been livin’ under a fucking rock?”

His gun was cocked and ready to fire, a steady forefinger resting over the trigger in case you decided to be stupid and try to run or lunge at him. He scoffed at the idea but kept his guard up just in case. After so many years of roaming, he’d seen just about everything, he wasn’t risking it no matter how defenseless you appeared at first glance.

“N-No…No, sir. Never seen a…ghoul. Before.” you forced the words out, fearing his wrath, and clung to your sides as your hands kneaded through the soft material of your dress. Your head lowered obediently, lashes shielding your darting irises as they read his every movement. “A rock? No, I – “

It took him a single spin to notice the Pip-boy slapped over your wrist and his eyes hardened. He stopped by your side, towering over you, and ripped your arm away, clutching it in his hand with a roughness you’d never experienced before. You winced as he leaned over to inspect the device and grimaced with a twitching upper lip.

“ – A vault dweller…” he spat and his gloved fingers dug into your flesh. He ignored your whiney noise of protest, jostling you into silence before shooting a flesh-searing glare right into your soul. “You a vaulty?”

“What? I – No! Yes. Wait – ” you stammered when he dug a knee into the sand and let your arm go before gathering a handful of hair on the back of your head and forcing your neck back to make you look at him. He was…menacing, practically bolting you to the ground with a single glare. “Wait! Please, wait. Please! I – ” your hands shot up to grip his wrist, trembling and useless as you pleaded. He dug the gun under your chin, preventing you from swallowing. “Please, I did. I lived in a vault, but I don’t know anything! Please, please, I promise. Don’t – “ your eyes frantically shot down at where the barrel sunk into your skin, teeth chattering as your lashes heavied with tears.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?!” he snarled, leaning so close that if he had a nose it would have bumped into yours. His breath stank of spirit and you tried to recoil but were promptly jerked back into place.

It didn’t click in your brain what had upset him so. The vaults were created to preserve humanity and its antics from before the bombs, it was for the betterment of the future. It was so that his children could eventually live better lives after you finally left the sanctuary of the underground and restored order to the surface, or so you’ve read. It made no sense for him to hate you based on a stupid Pip-boy that wasn’t even yours, you’d done nothing to him, you didn’t even know him! How could he be so nonchalantly cruel? How could he touch you without your consent? What gave him the right!?

The firearm digging into your flesh told you what.

“I was sick!” you wail, fighting back your tears and a pitiful stutter from poisoning your reply. His grip on your hair tightened and you twitched in pain, shaking like a leaf beneath him and clutching at his wrist in a silent plea to let you go. “I was isolated. I didn’t know anyone but my mom and dad, I didn’t do anything. I don’t know!” you debated for your life, prolonging his spine-chilling intentions. Bargaining with the devil was a difficult task when your body and mind worked against you, all blabbering words and choppy thoughts and jittery limbs. “The vault was taken over and I ran and I don’t know anything about the people and I just – Please…My parents are dead…Please, mister, please don’t shoot…” you beg through sobs and a sniffling nose, tugging at his iron grip to no avail.

With a grunt and a flexing jaw, he threw you back, treating you with disregard equal to tossing out a piece of garbage, releasing you to curl up protectively over yourself, and standing. His gun clicked and he secured it back in the holster on his hip.

You instinctively rub at the tender area on the back of your head with a dissatisfied plaint, locking your thighs to obscure your exposed privates. Propped up on one hand and with a shaken look, you watched him spit and turn, his expression solid and distasteful and beating down on you for no reason that you could comprehend. Your breaths begin to event out and you swallow with a shuddering hum.

He turned away, drawing distance between you with stiff steps, fighting his resolve as his hand itched to draw his weapon and just shoot you on the spot.

But he couldn’t…

You weren’t worth the bullet, he repeated that bitter sentence under his breath to convince himself that he hesitated and withdrew simply because you were a waste of ammunition. It wasn’t your doe-eyed stare and too-soft-for-this-world skin that felt like silk when your tiny fingers had lingered under the edge of his sleeve. It wasn’t your delicate, shiny hair that looked like it would tear under his hold or the thick, heavy lashes that framed your eyes and held your tears that shone like diamonds in the sunlight. It definitely wasn’t that tiny dress that hugged your little frame and would make any goon go rabid from just a glance. You were no wastelander, didn’t look like any vault dweller who had crossed his path, you were too soft even for the life before the bombs. He didn’t know what you were, but you weren’t worth the cogitation.

You weren’t worth the bullet. You weren’t worth anything. You were nothing.

You were –

“ – Wait!” you hurry to rise and stumble after him. Despite his demeanor, he was the only thing that hadn’t tried to kill you on sight, and without anything or anyone else around, you had mentally latched onto him as your hero. “Mister, wait! You can’t just – “

He raised his weapon and pointed it at you faster than you could blink. Your hands shot up to shield your face and you shrunk in submission, rapidly blinking and with a hesitant look.

“Come closer.” he barks and cocks his gun, arm extended and eerily steady. “See what happens.”

“I – You can’t just leave me here!“ you protest, mustering what confidence you could, scraping at the bottom of a barrel that was emptied the moment you had set foot outside the vault. You straighten when no bullets come and your palms curl into fists, stomping a foot for emphasis. “That’s not right. You can’t just ditch me.”

“Watch me, princess.” he chuckled, sneered, and bared his yellowish teeth at you like a dog. He gestured with the gun in dismissal and rested his free hand on his hip after flinging his coat back. “Now get!”

“I don’t know where to get.” you whine and curl your fingers in air quotes in a brash display, pushing your luck and mocking his conceit because you were so desperate you took your chances. “I don’t even know where I am!”

He just snorts at you, unbothered and uncaring, and proceeds on his way with a flick of his wrist, refusing to entertain your tantrum any longer.

You didn’t understand how someone could turn down a person in need, it made no sense, the lack of compassion was incomprehensible and so…inhuman. How could a man be this purposefully ignorant of another’s struggle and choose not to do anything? You could never turn down a cry for help, not that you’d ever been faced with such a situation before, but you knew you wouldn’t. So what had this ghoul lived through to be so detached and devoid of sympathy? How much had he been hurt to abandon emotion entirely for the sake of a still mind and dreamless sleep?

What kind of world forced a man to abandon his humanity…

Fueled by frustration, you take a few steps after him, so hellbent on keeping the spotless image of your hero you had forced upon his shoulders that your rationality couldn’t break through your naivety. He couldn’t be this cruel after saving your life and not even bringing up the possibility of a reward. He had to have a soft spot somewhere, beneath the rags and the ruggedness and the hissy threats and brutish actions. He was still a person just like you even if the harshness of the surface had disfigured both his body and soul, you believed in him, you had to for your own preservation.

He heard you move, heard the rustling of fabric and the shuffling of sand, and snapped with a cornered animal.

“Oh I’ve had about enough of you!” he snarled and whirled around, covering the distance between you with three long, menacing strides. Your startled scream was cut short when he squeezed your neck and forced you down on your back like your resistance against him didn’t even exist. He caged you beneath his tights, keeping you in place as you clawed at his stone-firm grip and gasped apologies and pleas through labored breaths. The gun knocked against the side of your forehead to stifle you into stilling. It clicked threateningly as he applied pressure to the trigger, sunken eyes staring down at you without any hesitation. “First rule of the wasteland, sweetheart.” he grumbled through gritted teeth and a stiff jaw, tightening his chokehold until your eyes rolled back and you burst into a fit of coughs. “Don’t trust nobody.”

Your mind raced fervently, battling against the lack of oxygen and trying to search for anything in your memory that could guarantee you even a chance at surviving his unrelenting assault. A sliver of hope as unconsciousness splotched the edges of your vision with viscous darkness. Your ears screeched as blood thrashed around in your head and face, bulging and boiling, trapped and unable to reach the rest of your writhing body. Your feet kicked and thrashed without results and no matter how deep your nails sank in his leathery skin he didn’t so much as flinch. Spit dribbled from the corner of your gaping mouth, the threat of the gun completely discarded due to suffocation and your lungs screamed and burned with the scarce air.

And he just watched you struggle with a solemn visage and jagged features.

“Say something! ANYTHING! THINK OF SOMETHING!!!”

“Water!” you croak and it was nearly unintelligible, but he understood.

“What?” he hisses and his grip on your throat slacks enough for you to finally suck in a full breath.

You gulp greedily at the dry, scorching air, groaning in octaves so low you couldn’t recognize your own voice. Supposedly having your neck nearly crushed like a rotten pencil did that to one’s vocal cords. You relax beneath him and hold onto his forearm for support as if he hadn’t been the cause of your near-death experience. You cling to him like a lost child and not his victim and it utterly baffles him. He tried to find a glimmer of hatred or disgust, anything that would deter him enough to just shoot you and get this overextended fiasco to an end, anything that would let him pull the fucking trigger. There’s nothing though, just desperation and confusion and fright and you had placed him as the only barrier between yourself and the rest of the world and even when he watched the life drain from you as you fought for breath you still didn’t even glare at him. You were just too pure, undefiled by the cruelty of the world you’d set off to venture and a tiny, once-dead part of him boiled at the incessant thought of you falling into the hands of a less kind man. What if someone else had found you first…

“There’s a storage safehouse. It was made for emergencies.” you gasp and clear your throat, pushing past the need to gag and looking up at him because you were taught that holding eye contact was a good thing when speaking about something of grave importance. He softened above you and leaned away and you took that as your cue to continue. “Those people, the ugh…the bad guys can’t get to it. It’s hidden and you need a Pip-boy to unlock it.” you gulp audibly and wince at the soreness before licking at your chapped lips and wiping the drool off your cheek. “It’s full of food and water…and stimpaks and bandages and…whatever you wish. You can take all of it just – ” a wave of trembles racked through you and you tried to suppress a whimper, but couldn’t. “ – Please, just help me get to it…I just want to go home, sir…”

“Thought you said you didn’t know anything, princess? You tryna lie to me now?” his chin dipped as he cocked his head to the side. His voice was flat, and his cold demeanor breaching through your dress and nipping at your insides until you were littered with goosebumps despite being pinned down in a desert in the middle of the day.

“I don’t…I’ve never been there – I was an archive keeper. I know everything in theory I just never knew the people except my parents…But I can find my way to it just by memory, I know where it is I just need to walk around a bit and – ”

“ – Stop yappin’.” he scolded, cutting your rant short before tucking away his gun.

He took a moment to mull over your words, still keeping you locked beneath him while you laid there like a corpse and prayed wordlessly as anticipation punched at your churning stomach. He rubbed at his chin, tongue twisting in his mouth as if he were tasting your proposition. His eyes dipped down to your scrawny form, done skimming over the barren desert sea and deciding this didn’t need much more contemplation. You got to go home and get off his back, he got supplies for a good few weeks, and a handful of raiders would end up dead. Simple. Easy. He could do that.

“Done deal.”

You nearly cried out in joy at his words.

Then he finally stood and gripped your upper arm before roughly pulling you to your feet and you nearly faceplanted in his chest at the force. He laughs as you flounder and fight not to trip, the baritone of his voice sending you spiraling into a pit of embarrassment and abashment because he was the first person you had ever properly met and you were making a fool of yourself. There was a feint, innocent need prickling at your heart, you wished you could’ve impressed him, and made a good first impression, but that had been thrown out the window in its entirety the moment he’d pointed a gun at you.

Now you were torn between needing him close because he was your only source of comfort and wanting to slap him because he was such a rude and foul man. Who even pointed a weapon at an unarmed woman?

He did…the bastard.

“Shoulda just started with the storage, missy.” he teases as if he’d not nearly killed you a few minutes ago, all lighthearted and smirking. He holds your arm until you’re stable enough to stand on your own and you’re grateful even if a bit abrasive. “Coulda saved us a whole lot of tusslin’.”

“I would have, sir, but you – “

“ – Sssst!” he susses you like one would a mischievous cat and your lips are sealed in an instant. Then he nudged his head forward and readjusted the collar of his coat after releasing you. “Walk.”

Deciding you’ve run your luck dry for the day, you let go of a snarky remark hanging on the tip of your tongue and do as instructed, trudging through the dunes as the familiar sting returns to the bare soles of your feet. Now, however, you had a nasty gash on your ankle to boot and it didn’t help that it was slowly getting covered by specs of sand that rubbed excruciatingly against your exposed flesh.

God damn those roaches, they were a menace when they were tiny! Now? You mouthed at the recollection.

You bite your tongue to keep from whining when the hurt becomes too unbearable, the rest of the time you were heaving with an open mouth as the idea of licking at your sweat for some sort of thirst relief grew. You’d not known thirst until today, it was worse than any needle or medical practice your father had used on you, you couldn’t even swallow properly, the motion happened automatically and you cringed at the stickiness of your dried-up throat.

It was too hot and you were woefully unprepared to deal with it or any of the other discomforts tugging your nerves thin. It bothered you how unphased he seemed by the harsh weather, one glance at him told you he hadn’t even broken a sweat. He was covered from head to toe in heavy clothes and strode with confidence and ease as if he were taking a walk through a park. You shrug without realizing it, too sunken into your head. Maybe he doesn’t have sweat glands anymore.

The sun was finally moving, sinking to the west and casting dramatic shadows over the desert. As his shadow grew, you found sanctuary in it from the still-sizzling rays and sighed in relief. It was a tiny drop of comfort, but it was enough to ease some of your strain. The muscles in your thighs were numb from overexertion for the first time in your life and you dreaded the cramps you’d have to deal with later on. The skin on your feet was smooth as butter from the intense exfoliation of walking through sand for so long, that was an interesting little fact you’d never heard of before. Dead skin cells could be removed by rubbing coarse surfaces over the body. Dope.

Locking yourself in the sanctity of your head and isolating your surroundings, you were numb and blind to how your legs shook. It wasn’t until you collapsed and tasted brittle little specs on your tongue that you realized you were lying down.

The ghoul paused and turned to look at you over his shoulder with profane boredom.

“Didn’t tell you to stop, princess.”

“Mm…My legs don’t work.” you state before even realizing the cruciality of that bit of information. Your eyes pop open and the exhausted expression vanishes in an instant, you prop up on your elbows and stare back at the limp limbs. Panic ensues, pumping through you like a drug as a dry sob punctures your chest. “My legs don’t…My legs!”

“What in the hell!”

He’s on you in an instant, bent over and pushing at your shoulder until you roll on your back, the spaces where his eyebrows should be are locked together and he shushes your cries with a curt noise, but you’re too stressed to acknowledge it. There are no more tears left, your nose can’t even fill with snot from dehydration, and you end up a mess of ragged sobs and loud wails as you paw at your legs to wake them up. You double over and clutch at your upset stomach with a shaky hand as your teeth grit in dread.

If he hadn’t left you behind yet, he would now…

And you couldn’t even debate him on it this time, you wouldn’t even be able to stalk him if he tried.

“I can’t move them…” you hiccup. You manage to wiggle your toes but lifting your foot or bending a knee just doesn’t register, instead, you get a few twitches from the spent muscles and nothing else. The worst scenario plagues your sanity and you look to the ghoul for guidance because there is no one else. “What if – ”

“ – Shut the hell up!” he scolds and shoots you a brief glare before averting his eyes down as he cups a large gloved palm in the junction of your knee before lifting your thigh in uncharacteristically gentle examination. His thumb dips in your supple flesh, rubbing in circles, searching for something to hint him in on what the issue was, the concentration evident on his distinct features. Your cries die down to whimpers as he juts a finger against your lips. “You – “ he sighs and after a handsy inspection of your other leg, covers his eyes with his hand and presses down on his eyelids as the urge to hold you in another chokehold resurfaces. “ – You’re just fucking tired, you smooth-skinned little – ” he huffs and halts the slew of curses less you start crying even harder.

You don’t have time to react when he grips your sides and lifts you in the air before tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of tatoes. You wretch when his shoulder digs into your stomach and cough it off with arms flailing. Shaky hands clutch at the back of his coat as he secures one arm around your bare thighs and begins walking as if he’s not carrying another full-grown adult.

“Throw up on me and I will fucking blow your head off.”

He understood your sheltered way of thinking, but this was fucking unheard of. A newborn probably had more stamina than you, more strength too if your display of power earlier while he had you pinned down was the brink of your ability. You were so fragile it was annoying, you wouldn’t last a day out here, would’ve ended up as radroach food if he hadn’t stepped in. You were scrawnier than most people he’d seen and he’d seen plenty, and those who were smaller were on the brink of death from starvation. Who the hell went out in the wasteland unarmed?!

You did…fucking idiot.

“Thank you.” you mumble and audibly exhale, despite his threat, closing your eyes at his scarce kindness and smiling through bitten-down lips to cease your sobbing. You tried ignoring the fact that your butt was a few inches away from his face or that his hat grazed against your side with every step he took. Such bashful thoughts had no right to take up space in your head, but then again, he was your first friend and just having him around shot bolts of excitement through you.

Sure, he was a bit…rough around the edges. But he had saved you and he was carrying you back home. And he was a surface dweller who’d probably never known the comforts of the vaults so you couldn’t hold him accountable for being aggressive. Well, you could, and technically should, but you knew better than to bite the hand that feeds you.

“Don’t thank me, princess.” he snorts and pats your thigh in feign caringness. “You owe me supplies. I ain’t gonna let you cheat me outta that.”

“There’s a few of them, though…the criminals, I mean.” you mused over what to call them while chewing on your bottom lip, hanging off the shoulder of a ghoul in a thin sundress, carried through a desert, like it was just a normal day.

They had looked more like bandits, but what else were you supposed to label them as? The judgment system was a thing of the past, so what were these people considered now? Outlaws? You continue with a pang of concern, fearing for the safety of your rugged savior, too attached to the idea of companionship and just sick of seeing violence. You’d had enough for one day.

“Are you sure you can handle them? They didn’t seem very friendly.”

“First off, they’re called raiders. Everyone ‘round here’s a criminal now.” he laughed, tipping his head back and you feel the raspy chortle swell your chest.

You liked him happy, he was almost charming this way. Or maybe it was a “Rescue Romance” you were experiencing and the ghoul was just a crusty weird man who had saved you without considering what a pest you might turn out to be. You’d try to find that one psychology book and re-read it once you got back home just to make sure.

“Stop swooning!”

“Second, it’s my job. I’m a bounty hunter, sweetheart. I kill people for a livin’.” he tilted his hollow nose to the side, addressing you properly as he spoke, and if you’d seen the gesture you would have appreciated it.

“Oh,…a bounty hunter? Like in the Old West then! I’ve read so much about that!” you squeak and perk up, wiggling in excitement as your face beams. Your calf twitched as some feeling returned to your limp legs and it only added to your brightened mood. Now you could actually feel the cool texture of his coat gliding against your skin.

You didn’t see his features grim or how his hat tipped to obscure sunken eyes and hide the brisk vulnerability swirling in them or the flash of regret, the pain, the little piece of humanity he didn’t even know he still had. His grip on your thigh tightened and you strayed to one side and glanced at the back of his head in question, expecting him to be more boastful about his job. Instead, he was mournfully silent and you feared you’d said something wrong, reopened an old would accidentally.

“Just like the Old West, yeah.” he nodded with a low grunt and you frowned. The words slip past his teeth with such dreadful familiarity that you can’t help the curiosity that would no doubt be your downfall one day. You press a tender palm between his shoulder blades, more for your sake rather than his, and pray he didn’t change his mind to drop you and leave.

You doubted books were a common luxury in this crumbling world, you also doubted the ghoul was a man of knowledge, he didn’t look like the type to read. Maybe there were still movie cassettes and TVs in good enough shape to be used and that’s how he learned of the old cowboy history. As slim as those possibilities were, they made more sense than him being alive before the apocalypse and still walking the earth in the present time. His distorted appearance didn’t give you any indicators of his age, so trying to guess was out of the question, but even then the war was over two hundred years ago. He couldn’t possibly…

Maybe you were simply overthinking, but the way he’d said it sounded like he’d lived through it and the longer you pondered over that the sharper your awareness became.

“How long do ghouls live, mister?” you ask, uncertain of what he’d answer, but holding onto your speculations until he did.

“That the vault?” he shoots back, coming to a halt and straightening and completely sweeping away your inquiry.

It was a good enough answer and despite your gnawing curiosity, you decided not to press the matter further because you didn’t know how far his courtesy extended before he had his gun pressed to your temple again.

You hadn’t even noticed how much ground he’d covered with you slumped over him, everything around you looked the same and with fatigue fogging your lapse of time it wasn’t surprising. He was built for endurance or…mutated for it. What exactly was a ghoul, anyway?

You coil around him like a snake and he holds you secure as you clutch at his shoulder and turn until you can see what he sees.

The distinct metal of the vault door glinted in the dying sunlight, mostly concealed by debris and toppled over stone blocks.

Everything around you was bathed in warm hues of maroon and deep orange and for just a moment the world felt so peaceful. The sun had almost completely set, dipping behind golden dunes, the breeze hollered a deft, haunted tune and there was no noise besides you and the ghoul’s breaths. It was all so beautiful you wanted to cry, your eyes dampened as you soaked in the sight with a slack jaw. The magic of a sunset was so foreign it hadn’t even registered until you’d been made to look around instead of troubling yourself with the bounty hunter’s backstory.

How could something be so impossibly mesmerizing?

“Yeah…” you manage to answer, at a loss for words, yet still conscious of the question and your friend’s proven lack of patience. “Yeah, that’s it.”

He plops you down unceremonially without even asking you if your legs were back in order before grabbing your arm and dragging you along. You waddle after him like a duckling and clutch at his coat when your ankles intertwine and trip you in your stride. A startled noise escapes you, but you successfully manage to keep up with his hasty footing until he’s pulled you directly in front of the vault door, grumbling at your clumsy nature and lack of coordination. A few low curses are hung over your head but you don’t pay them any mind.

“Open it.” he demands and pushes you forward, then unclasps his gun and then another you hadn’t even noticed he had.

Whatever nonchalant demeanor you’d made him settle into was discarded for one so icy and sharp that you failed to understand how he just switched within a blink.

You straighten your dress with a huff, patting out the newly acquired wrinkles and trying to ignore the variety of stains. The Pip-boy is raised up as you maneuver around the plethora of menus.

The ghoul steps closer, stopping once he’s right behind you with a raised weapon and steady eyes glued to the entrance. The lid hisses and you recoil at the scratchy sound until you’re pressing back into him, he wraps an arm around you on instinct, then scowls and rips away as if burnt by a hot rod.

“Watch your step.” he hisses and points the guns at the entrance, treading cautiously, on high alert for any noise that echoes beyond the darkness. Once he’s glued to the vault door he beckons you with his hand and you quickly follow, feet pattering against the metallic floor until you’re closely pressed to his side and peeking from behind him.

It wasn’t scary when he was with you. You strangely didn’t fear the raiders lurking inside anymore, only worrying over the potential harm they might cause him. But he’d proven more than capable, you made yourself believe he’ll be just fine and so would you.

When nothing comes and he’s confident the threat lies further inside, he steps past the entrance.

“Stay behind me.” he makes a face at his statement, then glances back at you. “And don’t get in my way.”

Chapter 3 >>>

🌼 Masterlist 🌼

#the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul #the ghoul fallout #x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #fallout tv series

[bruisedboys]

🍓 “good girl.” With Remus

okay so I took a completely different approach on this one and did dad!remus … hope u still like it angel!! and thank you for the request 🤍

summary: yours and remus’ daughter, daisy, throws a mini tantrum. remus handles it like a champ

mum!reader 0.8k words

Yours and Remus’s daughter looks exactly like you. If you were four years old and quite a bit smaller. She’s got your eyes, your skin tone, your lovely hair. Even her nose is a carbon copy of yours. Remus would be jealous if she wasn’t so pretty. He’s always wanted a kid that looks like him, but one that looks like you is even better.

She’s got a grumpy face that’s shockingly similar to yours, too. She’s pulling it now, sitting on the kitchen bench with her legs swinging and her arms crossed, scowling at Remus so fiercely it’s almost not cute. Almost.

“Daisy girl,” he says patiently. He never wants to lose his patience with her. Ever. Even now, when he’s unhappy with her because she’d shouted at you when you were just trying to help. “You made your mum real upset, you know that?”

Daisy shakes her head vigorously and shouts, “No!”

Remus doesn’t know what she’s saying no to and isn’t sure she knows, either. He sighs.

“No what, baby?” He asks. One of Daisy’s kicking legs catches him in the thigh and he sets a hand over her knee to stop the movement. He squeezes her soft, squishy thigh gently, to let her know he’s not mad. She’s so small his fingers spread all the way to her hip.

She visibly softens under her touch. Her bottom lip wobbles. “No,” she says again, less angry and far more sad.

Daisy promptly bursts into tears. Remus’s heart cracks into a million pieces. Sure, he’s not happy about the shouting, but seeing his little girl cry never fails to break his poor heart.

It only gets worse from there. Daisy starts wailing. Remus has no choice but to scoop her up in his arms and hold her to his chest as if that will glue his heart back together.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he soothes. He holds her with one arm under her butt while his free hand rubs small circles on her back. “Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Daisy cries and cries and cries. Remus knows you’re gonna appear before you do. You’re not very much stronger than him, when it comes to Daisy’s cries.

You’ve got a look on your face close to heartbreak as you appear in the kitchen doorway. Remus has a funny feeling you’ve been standing just out of sight this whole time. He meets your eyes and frowns.

“Dais,” he says softly into her ear. She’s still crying, shaking from the sobs, but she’s quieter now. She really does sound very sad. “Mummy’s back now. Did you want to say sorry?”

Daisy calms down enough to pull away slightly and look Remus in the eyes. Her face all wet and flushed, eyelashes sticking together, cheeks hot and pink. Remus doesn’t like it one bit. He uses his thumb to push away her sticky tear tracks as she nods.

“Yes,” she says hoarsely, her breaths shaky like they always are when she cries like this.

Remus smiles at her softly. “Okay, then.”

He carries her over to you and she hides in his neck on the way over. Her face is warm and wet on his skin. He can hear every little tremble in her breathing and it takes everything he has not to break down crying himself.

He encourages Daisy out of her hiding place once he’s close to you. She appears, all tear-streaked and so very sad. Remus props her higher on his hip and twists his shoulders so she’s facing you.

“Good girl,” he says to her, softly, encouraging. He strokes a thumb over her hip. “Go on.”

Daisy is quiet for a moment. Then,

“M’sorry, mummy,” she says, quiet as a mouse but so sincere it has both Remus and you smiling like idiots.

“Aw, that’s okay, sweetheart,” you say, never one to hold grudges. You hold your arms out for her and she goes to you immediately.

Remus watches with so much love it hurts as you wrap her up tightly and lay kiss after kiss to her head.

“It’s alright, baby,” you say sweetly. “You know I just wanted to help you, yeah?”

Daisy nods into your shoulder. Remus feels a rush of pride that at least something he’d said to her had stuck.

“I understand that I made you mad, though. I should’ve explained better.” You pull back and Daisy follows suit. You look her in the eyes and smile softly. “I’m sorry, too.”

Daisy falls right back into your chest. “That’s okay, mama.”

You smile so big Remus is sure it aches, your hand rubbing her back soothingly. You meet Remus’s eyes over Daisy’s shoulder, a look on your face that says thank you.

Remus kisses you in lieu of a you’re welcome.

-

#★ mal writes! #ღ remus #𖤐 2k celebration! #remus lupin #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin x reader fluff #dad!remus lupin #dad!remus lupin x reader #✉️

[wildlife4life]

Seven (+) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by super amazing @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @glorious-spoon @wikiangela @daffi-990 @tizniz @devirnis @watchyourbuck @hoodie-buck @loserdiaz @spotsandsocks and @diazsdimples. Thank you all so much!

Alright, so I know haven't been as active since dropping the first chapter of NFL Buck. I've just been sort of down because that same day, the Super Bowl Champs had their parade and rally, and just after it ended there was a mass shooting. My younger sister was there with some friends and they got away unharmed, but when she didn't answer my message for a long 30 minutes, I truly thought the worst. I've just been so sad and angry for Kansas City, for the US really and I just couldn't get into the spirit of writing. I'm not getting into the politics of it all today and my sister is coming for a visit soon, so I'm feeling marginally better. KC Strong.

First chapter of NFL Buck has been dropped, but everything else I've posted for this fic can be found here. Here is a snippet from the Eddie Begin's arc of NFL Buck.

Hurricane Harvey was relentless for almost four days, bullying southern Texas with unforgiving wind and an exurbanite amount of rain. Houston fire department and so many others worked day and night to help those who had not evacuated.  It was absolute chaos, and it blew through Eddie’s entire life. The storms had wreaked havoc on the cell towers, which meant service was spotty to none and radios became the main source of communication for rescuers. By some miracle, though, the internet connection at the firehouse held strong. It was slow and glitched out here and there, reminding Eddie too much of his time in Afghanistan. He watched his infant son grow up through a screen, with his very upset wife barely holding on and his parents hovering nearby, souring the video calls even further. Christopher was no longer a whimpering baby in his mother’s lap but looking at his saddened son on a glitching iPad screen with a tense Maddie sitting beside him, was too familiar.  Add in the argument he had with Buck just before, and the threat of danger just outside the firehouse, Eddie was back to being a scared 19-year-old in war riddled country. “Dad, grandma said we’re not going to visit Buck anymore. That he’s too busy. And Maddie tried to call him, but he didn’t answer and…” The eight-year old’s voice trails off, his lips trembling. Eddie bites his inner cheek hard. This was on him. He gave into his mother’s worries and demands about traveling through Texas during the hurricane.  Helena was too stubborn and being his mother, she knew every damn button to push, and Eddie was tired of fighting.  So, he reluctantly agreed to cancel the visit and his mother grinned a little too sharply before stating, “I’m sure Maddie will enjoy having her brother to herself.” Another ploy to take Christopher and Eddie fucking fell for it. Then his mother took it a step further by graciously telling Buck and Maddie herself, that Christopher would no longer be joining them in Dallas and to enjoy their time together for as long as they need it. Eddie knew his mother didn’t approve of his relationship with Buck, more so than his previous one with Shannon. The only reason she kept her mouth shut was the potential back lash of upsetting Christopher. But she already succeeded in having a hand in driving away Shannon and she probably believed she could do the same with Evan.

With this fic, there are a lot of canon events with twists. The usual timeline does not exists. But I hope you all enjoyed!

Tagging (no pressure): @bekkachaos @theotherbuckley @lover-of-mine @buddierights @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @aroeddiediaz @giddyupbuck @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @eddiescowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @athenagranted @evanbegins @elvensorceress @malewifediaz @911onabc @911-on-abc @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @buck-coded @prosperdemeter2 @lemonzestywrites @gayedmundodiaz @transboybuckley @nmcggg

#seven sentence sunday #tag game #my wip #911 abc #911 on abc #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #nfl #quarterback buck #firefighter eddie #secret relationship #hurricane harvey #eddie begins au #prayers for kc #kc strong

[sgt-morgan]

Of Cowboys and Daisies🐎

Summary: Jack is assigned to watch over a mother and her adorable little girl. As they get closer and closer to taking care of their problem, Jack worries he won’t be able to let go.

Warnings: AFAB! Female identifying reader, talks of cannon typical violence, death of a spouse x2, really a fluff piece.

A/N: I wrote this because I have that stupid Tik tok edit song stuck in my noodle.

Masterlist

Follow up fic

Agent Whiskey wasn’t sure he was going to survive this arrangement. Champ said it was temporary, but his idea of temporary passed about two months ago. It was a fairly simple assignment, and with everything that’s happened, an easy assignment is a lot kinder than getting kicked off the team. So he took the job, even though the rapidly approaching end of it made him want to drink until he couldn’t see straight.

“It’s a simple protection detail.” Champ had shrugged, pulling the file out of his desk and smacking it down in front of him with a sigh. “She’s a youngin’, at least to me anyway. She’s CIA, talented too, once her life is out of the red zone, I’ll probably recruit her. Sharp as a tack, quick as a whip, and she’s got the mouth of a sailor, she’s right up your alley.” Jack studies the files with interest, running a curious finger over the picture of you that was attached to the file. You were a looker for sure, he listened to champ go on, reading over your impressive and extensive file, until he ran across a bit of information that shocked him half to death.

“She’s got a baby?” He huffed, incredulous.

“Yeah, little girl, her names Daisy May, she’s three. She’s sweeter than a peach, got Tequila and Ginger wrapped around her little finger already, and Momma is just as bad.” Champ chuckled, pouring them both a glass of Statesman’s finest while Jack stared at him intent on hearing every detail Champ was willing to offer. “Her late husband was a SEAL. Top ranking, special ops, very high up on the food chain. One day she goes out to grab dinner with the baby, comes back and he’s dead with a note pinned to his chest with her cover details written all over it. Tried to deal with it on her own, then after about two months she pulls the bottle her daddy- former agent Brandy god rest his soul- left her and called us up asking us to make her disappear. So we called our buddies at the CIA, got her cleared, and we’re doing it. She’s our-specifically your- problem until we can take out whoever blew her cover.”

Jack stared at the amber liquid in his glass and thought long and hard about that one. It’s a dark story, indicative of his own. “Where are we keeping her?” He sighs, swirling the liquid once more before shooting it.

“Well son, that’s up to you. If you wanna do a safe house, that’s fine. We can radio y’all in and use satellite to do the rest, or you can use the ranch. Familiar territory for you, plenty of security, and it means we can all look after her and the little one when necessary.” Champ sighs when Jack slides his glass back over to him.

“Where abouts they from?” Jack questions, “They gonna be ok living in a ranch or am I working with city slickers?”

“Oh no, She’s originally from Prestonsburg, she’s Floyd county born and raised. They were living in Texas though. Her husband was a Texan, moved to Austin to be closer to family and all that. She ain’t got anybody but an Aunt back home, but she’s an Eastern Kentucky girl. She grew up riding horses.” Jack’s eyebrows shot up to the brim of his hat at Champs little interlude.

“Well Shoot Champ, you really shot the shit with her huh?” He laughs.

“Her daddy was a friend, and she’s just like him. She’s a good girl, you’ll like her.” Champ nodded him to the door, and Jack took the dismissal in stride. Champ had high hopes, and Jack just hoped he was right.

Reflecting on it now, it’s laughable how skeptical he was. You were a picture of perfection. When he first met you, he knew, and Daisy put the bow on top of the package.

Funnily enough his horse introduced you, Tequila and Ginger were walking you around the distillery grounds, and had stopped to let you show Daisy the horses. He found you standing outside of a stall, specifically the stall of his horse, Coke. Coke is an Appaloosa with a blanket with spots. He’s not normally friendly with newcomers, having a stubborn streak a mile wide, but Jack was shocked to see you stood in front of the Horse’s stall with no issue. You had the baby propped on one hip, with her head on your shoulder and a thumb in her mouth, and Coke’s muzzle resting on the other. You were casually talking to Ginger while Tequila stared on shocked as you fondly stroked the horse’s muzzle. Normally, everyone knew not to turn their back on his horse, unless of course you were him. Coke was known to be a jester, and liked to nip at your hair or push you around with his muzzle, but there he stood, cozying up to a woman he just met today. He stood back and kept watching, seeing what the horse was up to. He heard the horse nicker and huff, moving his head to push towards the baby and you laughed, letting the curious animal nuzzle at the girl.

“Yeah big boy,” you patted his crest as he moved his head off your shoulder to let the baby stroke his muzzle, “yeah- gentle Daisy May, be nice- yeah big boy, that’s my Daisy, you like her? Yeah, that’s the baby, are you a good boy? hmm?” You talked to the horse and he watched as you pulled a sugar cube from the shelf next to the stall and let the girl feed it to Coke. The big horse oh-so-gently took the cube from the girl, tickling her palm and she giggled. The horse huffed through his nose and threw his head a bit and you laughed. “Oh ho ho! Well, you liked that huh? I’d give yah another big boy but I don’t know if your rider would take too kindly to me fattening up such a pretty stallion, bet you make all those pretty broodmares happy huh? Yeah.” You laugh as he whinnies.

“Well, He took a liking to you quick.” Jack called, making himself known and getting closer to the stall. “Ol’ Coke here is usually a temperamental fella.”

“Who, this guy?” You smirk as the horse huffs again at Daisy’s hair making her giggle. “Why no, he’s a sweet fella. Ain’t yah big boy?” The horse bobs his head as if nodding in agreement and Jack chuckles.

“Don’t let him fool yah,” Tequila grumbled, eyeing the horse warily, “That menace picks on anybody that ain’t him.” He pointed at Jack with a glare and Jack chuckled.

“Now don’t be bitter sunshine, you’re just mad that he pushed you into the water trough last summer.” Jack grinned at you with a wink and you laughed. Then the girl on your hip tugged at your hair a bit and whispered in your ear. Like most children though, Daisy was not a good whisperer.

“Mama, wook, Cowboy.” She mumbled around her thumb, pointing to Jack’s Stetson. Oh how his heart melted, he knew he was a goner then and there.

“Oh man,” you gasped, “you’re right! I bet this is his horsey.” You nodded and the girls eyes twinkled with wonder.

“Horsey pwetty.” She nodded sagely, “Ask him mumma, wanna ride him.” She had the biggest eyes, her tiny curls were barely contained by the pigtails her hair was in. She was a pretty little baby, and a carbon copy of her momma, dressed in little denim overalls and a pretty flowered shirt. She was cute, almost too cute, he didn’t know how he’d survive the next month or so with those big eyes pleading with him to give her anything she wanted, he knew he would be too weak to say no, he has a hard time picturing anyone saying no to her, not even her momma. Speaking of the mom, she was beautiful. She had on a beat up Vietnam tiger stripe jungle fatigue with a patch reading ‘Brandy’ rolled up to the elbows. Her T-shirt read ‘Kentucky Strong’ and he recognized it as one of those charity shirts that raised money for the flooding in Eastern Kentucky. She had aviators perched on her nose and two dog tags around her neck, one that was clearly older than the other, one for dad one for her husband if he had to guess. The best thing about the outfit though, was the shorts, those beautiful legs on full display, so good looking he had to pry his eyes off of her with the strength of ten men.

Jack jumped in all at once, “Am I a cowboy sweet baby? What gave me away? Was it the belt buckle?” He playfully tugged on it and gave an exaggerated frown, the girl giggled a no, and he pointed to his boots. “Oh, must’a been my boots!” He kicked up a heel to show off the worn brown leather boots. The girl squealed and laughed again, and you watched delighted that your baby was having so much fun.

“No!” Daisy laughed again clutching her hands together while she giggled. “No it was the hat!”

“Oh! Why silly me!” He breathed a fake sigh of relief, “I forgot it was up there sugar! Can’t be a cowboy without the hat!” The little girl laughed again in delight and he grinned back. Tequila and Ginger stared on shocked, Whiskey hadn’t been this carefree in a while, this little girl was working miracles. “Oh but I’ve gone and forgotten my manners,” Jack smacks his forehead dramatically “I never got your name Little lady! My name is Jack, what yours?” He extended a hand to the girl and she beamed, tucking her tiny hand in his.

“I’m Daisy!” She grinned, shaking his hand.

“Well, ain’t that just first class, you’re as pretty as a flower, so you must be Daisy!” He grinned at the delighted little girl, then whispered to her conspiratorially, “And who’s this?” He pointed at you and Daisy nodded, her mouth an ‘o’.

She introduced you and Jack smiled, tiling his hat to you, “Pretty name for a pretty lady, I’m Jack Daniel’s, code name Whiskey ma’am, pleased to make your acquaintance, and this here’s Coke.” He patted the horse’s flank as he stepped closer to you.

Your smile was just as magnetic as your daughter’s, and Jack felt his knees buckle, “Pleased to meet you Whiskey, Jack and Coke is my favorite combo, so I got high hopes this’ll be a good arrangement.”

And it was, y’all got on like a house on fire, and now he was very used to having you in his home. He hadn’t invited anyone into his space like this since his wife died. He couldn’t find the appeal in it, but there was something about you and this little girl he couldn’t seem to shake.

You were more than willing to tackle any task, and it was one of the things that he enjoyed most about you. In the months you had been there you helped around the Ranch any way you could. Jack had gotten used to doing the chores on his own, but he was suprised by how easily you worked yourself into his routine. It wasn’t a big Ranch, it was near the distillery in Oldham county, right smack in the middle between Louisville and La Grange. The ranch hosted his three horses, six chickens, two barn cats, and about 10 or so cows. In the mornings, you were up just as early as him, you alternated putting on the coffee, then he would deal with the horses (Coke, Julep, and Sazerac. You got a big kick out of their names, and he loved how you chuckled anytime he mentioned them.) and the cows, and you fed the chickens and the barn cats (Tom and Jerry, all the whiskey themed names). When you finished gathering eggs and greeting the cats, he would come back to you bouncing the baby on your hip while cooking breakfast.

“Well, you feed my animals and make my eggs, aren’t you handier than a pocket on a shirt.” He grinned one morning and you rolled your eyes with a chuckle.

“Well Cowboy, someone’s gotta feed you, black coffee and a Marlboro red aren’t breakfast, and they never will be.”

You were also a brilliant agent. Once you were settled, you and Jack started digging into anything you could find about the people who killed your husband, and you proved yourself an invaluable asset in intel gathering. You dug up more in a single hour than some men hoped to find in a lifetime, but it took its toll on you for sure. Day in day out combing over your husband’s files and trappings, staring at the inner mechanisms of his whole life and wonder what it would be like if he was here to finish all of his loose ends. He understood, and he hated that he couldn’t just take the pain for you, but it was a comfort to the both of you to have someone to talk to.

“Oh, the first week after his funeral was hell,” you sighed, playing with your daughters curls as she slept peacefully on your lap in the evening sun, “I kept trying to call him, to vent with him about how scared and tired I was, only to be reminded this wasn’t a deployment or a buissness trip, he was just… gone. Daisy was a mess too, cried for him every night, wouldn’t sleep until I showed her this video of him saying he loved her that he made her when he went on deployment. It broke my heart.” You sniffled and Jack felt his heart ache with sympathy.

“I know all about that hurt,” he sighed, handing you a beer and settling next to you on the big wrap around porch, “I’d keep rolling over and reaching for her in the middle of the night, I’d touch the cold sheets and I’d remember and it would hurt me every time.”

“Oh god yeah, took me weeks before I could truly sleep on my own again, I used to put one of his shirts on his pillow and sleep with it, it was the only way I could get myself to bed.” You sighed, nodding and sipping the drink.

“I used to spray her perfume on her pillow,” Jack nodded, “When I ran out I forced myself to sleep without it, It was months before I could get a full nights rest again.”

“I couldn’t imagine having to deal with all that alone,” you grimaced, “I at least had Daisy, I hate that you’re alone.”

“Well, I was alone, but I’m not anymore, I got you.” He slung an arm around your shoulder and you basked in the sun together until Jack felt you go lax in his grip. You had fallen asleep in his grasp, and he was shocked at how good it felt to have you be so vulnerable around him. It melted something in his chest. What was he gonna do with you.

You and Daisy just kept growing on him. His life was no longer just solitude and shoot outs, now it was a little more tea parties and tag and it was a very welcome change. You both had him wrapped around your fingers, every moment he wasn’t spending working on the project with you, or with Ginger and Tequila at Statesman, he was with you and your little girl.

One evening you were playing a game of tag, when Daisy just about caused them both a heart attack. You were running around and chasing each other in the small creek out the back of the ranch. Daisy was a doll in her little floral one piece, her wet hair plastered to her forehead and her little feet splashing away. You were a sight too, a black bathing suit with a cut out under your breasts showing off an ornamental tattoo that he really just wanted to-

“Come on Dada, catch me!” Time froze when the little girl said it and your jaws dropped, when you finally met each others gaze, you snapped out of it and turned to your daughter.

“No sweetie, that’s-“ you tried but the little girl cut you off.

“I know mumma. It’s otay though, Dada is no here, so this is my OTHER dada. It’s otay to have two dada.” She smiled and meandered to Jack, squeezing him in a hug. The little girl was barely knee high to a grass hopper, but she had hit him with that bombshell so hard she might as well have been a giant. Then, she just toddled off, finding interest in the stream once more, gathering rocks.

“Darlin I’m so sor-“ he began and you waved it away.

“Don’t worry Jack, she’s three. She adores you, and her only other frame of reference for a consistent male presence is her dad. Besides, if she had to pick another father figure, I’d want it to be you.” With that, you went to go stop her from tormenting a frog, and he stood there like a statue. The way you so casually said that amazed him, you put so much unwarranted faith in him, and it made the hardened cowboy turn to mush. Whatever this turns out to be though, one thing is for sure. He would do anything in the world for you and that little girl, and this just drove it home.

Weeks passed and you all just continued to get closer. Daisy asked for him as often as she did for you now when she’s upset, and he was now totally attached to their evening ritual of snuggling on the couch and watching Bluey. Every day you got closer and closer, and every day you found out more and more about your husbands killer, which ultimately led you to today.

Jack had left early, sun not even being up and the morning dew had just barely settled over the grass. Jack had gotten the mission from Ginger last night, and you had prepped and planned with him until he swore the plans were tattooed on the back of his eyelids.

It was over quick, he took them out and got his necessary intel and now you were safe. No blown cover, no second attempt at murder, just efficiency.

You’re free. You could go anywhere you want and you’d be safe. Where would you go? Your aunt was in Pburg, not too far off, a couple of tolerable hours away. Your late husband’s family though… they were in Texas, and that was more of a stretch.

This was miserable, thinking of all the ways you would leave him, though you weren’t even his to begin with. You were never his, you were just his charge, someone he was meant to protect, you and that perfect little girl. He got so caught up in it, he forgot to protect himself, and now he was faced with an old companion he never wanted to see again, loneliness.

He finally pulled up to the ranch, and Coke and the others were grazing in the first paddock near the front of the house, until the clever horse sees him and trots over with something in his teeth. It was a little stuffed rabbit, Coke had it by the ear and dropped it in his outstretched palm. It was like another painful reminder of what comes next. What would he do when his life was no longer bows and bunny rabbits. How would he go back to the way things were before. He sighed and made his way into the house, he was somewhat confused to see the front room totally empty. Normally, you’d be feeding the baby at this time, she would be sat in in the booster seat he’d bought for the kitchen table, in the little pink bib she always wore, probably making a mess, but then she’s squeal and wave at him and tell him to ‘come sit cowboy! I share!’ You’d laugh and tell her he had his own to eat, and she would frown and say ‘mine better!’ Today though, the kitchen was quiet and he felt his heart hammering in his chest, had you already gone? Were you so excited to be rid of him? But no, there was the sound of a shower, his shower specifically. He wandered into his room, and the sight there strengthened his resolve and told him that he needed to buck up and tell you how he feels, because he never wanted to sacrifice this.

Daisy was laying on his pillow, the stuffed horse toy that was an exact replica of Coke was tucked up under her chin, and she contentedly snored away on top of his quilt. The only light in the room was from the lamp on his bedside table, and a sliver leaking out from the cracked door to his bathroom. He carefully tucked the little girls blank is up over her chin, and listened to you humming from the shower. He was used to sharing his bathroom with you, normally you used the one near your room, but when you needed to shower and Daisy was napping, you preferred to use his so you could hear her if she cried. The warm smell of your shampoo was wafting from the bathroom, and your clothes were laid out on his bed. He ran a hand over them with a soft smile, the whole thing just felt so domestic. The sleeping child, the woman in his shower, the three sets of boots by his door, the pictures on his fridge. They all just felt so natural, filling his empty space with the feeling of home.

“Jack? Cowboy? Is that you?” You called from the bathroom.

“Yeah Sugar, it’s me.” He called back softly, padding his way into the bathroom and leaning up against the sink.

“How’d it go Whiskey? Did all go to plan?” He heard the hopefulness in your voice.

“Yeah sweetness, we did it. You’re free.” He could hear you pause at the melancholy in his voice and he was kicking himself. ‘Don’t ruin this for her Jacky, she should be happy.’ He heard the water kick off and handed you your Terry cloth robe and a towel. Once you were decent, you opened the curtain.

“You say that, but why does it sound like you just signed my warrant?” You asked curiously, squeezing the ends of your hair with a towel. He hadn’t realized how comfortable you had gotten around each other, but he supposed he shouldn’t be all that shocked. All the small touches, the snuggles, then tender moments. He was addicted to them now, and he never wanted to kick the habit.

“Well, I reckon you’d wanna get back to your life now there ain’t a target on your back.” He sighs, removing his hat and running a hand through his hair.

“Oh Jack,” you chuckled and his head whipped up when your palms came to rest on his cheeks. “These past few moths have been some of the happiest moments of my life since my husband passed. My daughter loves you, you are so good with her, she’s had nothing but smiles and laughter. You make my days better, you make me happy.” You caressed his cheek and he was hanging on to your every word, staring into those beautiful eyes he dreamed after these days. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it clearer baby, you’ll have to pardon me for that, Lord knows I’ve been a little scattered, but I have my life, it’s right here, with you. That is, if you’ll have me.”

He was stunned, here in his arms he held everything he never thought he’d have when his wife died. A beautiful woman, a sweet baby, laughter, light, and maybe even love. “Oh honey,” he gasped, pulling you in and finally kissing you like he’s wanted to since he saw you that first day in the stables. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me from you and that little girl.” You giggled and kissed him again, and again. When you finally broke away, you grinned up at him, and in this moment if you had asked him to kill an army of a thousand, he would have asked you what time you wanted him home for dinner.

“Well then cowboy? Why don’t you get gussied up and we can celebrate our new beginnings. Together.”

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Kingsmen #Kingsmen and the Golden Circle #Spotify #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal character fanfiction #whiskey #whiskey x reader

[nekoannie-chan]

Week 4 Reblog Masterlist

Welcome to Week 4 2024 or Week 212, as always, fics would be listed in the order I read them.

I hope you enjoy it!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

♥ You can check my reading guidelines here.

♥ You can check my masterlist here.

♥ You can check my main reblog masterlist 2024 here.

♥ You can check my January reblog masterlist 2024 here.

♥ You can check Week 3 2024 here.

♥ You can check Week 5 2024 here.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

𝙺𝚎𝚢𝚜: 💛 ᵒʳᶤᵍᶤᶰᵃˡ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ

💜 ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ

🖤 ᵈᵃʳᵏ

❤️ ˢᵐᵘᵗ

💚 ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

💙 ᵃᶰᵍˢᵗ

🧡 ᶜᵒᵐᵉᵈʸ

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

This is the list of the fics I read and recommend in Week 4 2024:

A snowflake melts part 2 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @georgiapeach30513 💚

Can I kiss you? (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sergeantbarnessdoll 💚

Dark concepts (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @hansensgirl 🖤❤️

In secret (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @stevenssacrab 💚 💙

Where to begin (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @intrepidacious❤️

Stay with me (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @lives-in-midgard 💚

Kissed by death (Brock Rumlow X Reader) by @itwasthereaminuteago❤️

I know where I belong part 7 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sosa2imagines 💚 💙

Officially confused (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sam24 💚

Steve fic (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @chxrryhansen❤️

I cannot give you (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @hannibals-favourite-meal 💙❤️

His inheritance chapter 33: Under pressure (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @jtargaryen18 💙❤️

Entwined (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @biteofcherry❤️

In the before (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @queen-of-the-avengers 💙

Resolutions (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @bucky-fricking-barnes 💚

Daisy chain (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @sunshinebuckybarnes 💚

Happy now (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @mrs-illyrian-baby ❤️

I can’t sleep because my bed is on fire (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @krirebr 🖤❤️

Clean this up (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @hollyseb 🖤❤️

Morning kisses (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @worksby-d 💚

Like a prayer (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @brandycranby❤️

Sometimes your soul family is the only family you need part 1 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ mrs-illyrian-baby 💙

Adoption part 2 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @buckys-wintersoldier 💚

Champ (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ashdreams2023 💚

Long distance boyfriend (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @angelltheninth❤️

Pretty tied up (Otis Driftwood X Reader) by @venus-haze 🖤❤️

Till the end of the line (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @twinklecrazymind 🖤❤️

By the fireplace (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @navybrat817 💚

#Annie recommends #Week 4 Reblog Masterlist #january reblog

[momentofch-aos]

Saw a post the other day that I can’t find now but it was about the difference between Sousa at the end of Agent Carter vs when we meet him in Agents of Shield.

Not only is he older and therefore feels more…mature? Maybe it’s more experienced, especially when it comes to his job. But something that’s shines through to me is his confidence.

Don’t get me wrong, I think he flourished as LA Chief and it was clear to see him taking charge (eg when Peggy and Wilkes go missing) but there’s something else to it that I can’t quite put my finger on.

Maybe it’s his confidence towards Daisy (the swagger when they’re talking in the Quinjet - you know what I mean.) but it’s almost like despite being thrown 70 years in the future and being told everyone who loves him thinks he’s dead, but he takes it in stride and continues adapting.

Maybe it was working alongside the chaos of Peggy Carter for so many years, or maybe it who he was destined to become but I think he took to his impromptu time travel like a champ and I wish we’d seen more of it.

#daniel sousa #agents of shield #daisy johnson #marvel #agent carter #dousy #peggy carter #aos #peggysous #character development #I need them back marvel #blue shirt of chivalry #hawaiian shirt sousa

[navybrat817]

Your motocross update! Curtis gives big brother energy who would destroy Steve if he did anything to you.

Curtis completely respects Steve, nonnie!

That being said, yes. If Steve ever hurt you, Curtis would bring the axe down without question.

Which Steve would never. 🥰

Love and thanks! ❤️

#navybrat answers #character ask #curtis everett #steve rogers #motocross!curtis everett #motocross!steve rogers #champ and daisy #we all need a friend like curtis #dialed in: motocross au #sweet nonnie #sending love ❤️ #asks are always appreciated

[teehee-vibes]

Tada!!

Here are the designs for Bonnie, Clemont, and Serena in my post-canon fanfic, Restarting At Letter A! It takes place 3 to 3 1/2 years after the Kalos Crisis, and it can be read here!

I may make detailed pages for each of them, one day. In the meantime… Design notes under the cut!

Bonnie:

The Friend Ball hat is a birthday gift from Ash! It says “Champ in the making” on the inside of the cap.

The Zygarde skirt is also a birthday gift, from Valerie!

Not pictured, but when she wears her bag (gift from Ramos), its shoulder strap and her suspenders make a sideways Z.

Serena helped her put together the rest of the outfit.

Her hair’s length is inspired by Serena.

Additionally, she has a ponytail coming through the back, and it is vaguely lightning bold shaped.

Clemont:

Bonnie put the patches on his legs because she wanted to learn to sew, thanks to Serena’s influence.

Patches are: Luxray tail stars, Heliolisk frills, high voltage road sign, trans flag (color picked from his official game art lol), and a cherri berry.

His hair is shorter now (always tie your long hair back when in a hazardous work space).

Yes all the buttons have specific purposes. His bag has been upgraded to have two Aipom Arms (Ambipom). I’ll release the chart with the character page.

Voltage Badge because he’s a proud gym leader.

Serena:

Blue ribbon from Ash.

She is super duper fashionable and slay.

Also, she’s 5,8”, just fyi

The flowers embroidered on her coat have multiple meanings. Pink tulips for feminism, gladiolus for strength of character, etc etc. The sunflower and daisies are for Clemont and Bonnie.

She has the same bracelet she had as part of her casual outfit in Journeys, inspired by Aria. The blue gemstone on her necklace is from the bejeweled belt she wore for Hoenn’s contest lives.

#bonnie pokemon #clemont pokemon #serena pokemon #pokemon xyz #pokemon xy #anipoke #pokemon fanfiction #gym leader clemont #trainer serena #pokemon #tv’s art #restarting at letter a

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

goldfish • your clothes • misplace • pretender • search party • buzzcut, daisy • movies for guys • kodak moment • can you tell? • how to lie • champ • eyes off the wheel, I'm a star • let's go home

Spotify ♪ Bandcamp ♪ YouTube

#hyltta-polls #polls #artist: jane remover #language: english #decade: 2020s #Indietronica #Glitch Pop #Noise Pop #Hyperpop #Bitpop #Emo-Pop #Glitch #Emo

[the-blind-assassin-12]

It’s Always the Same

1200 words for 1200 followers #4 

A/N: Hi friends! Welcome to the 12-A-Palooza! This event is my way of saying thank you for sticking with me. Your support and kindness toward me and my writing is out of this world and I’m grateful for every last one of you! This is one of two requests that I got for Jack, and they will be related... and I already have plans to continue it after all the 12-A-Palooza requests are done. So in addition to the Spectrum Soulmate Marcus Pike AU, the Jack Daniels Time Travel AU is now a thing. (And I’m not mad about it at all.) 💚

Warnings: mention of character death, mention of violence, this one is angsty and I am SORRY. 

Requested by: @azure-waves Song: Back in Town Character Choice: Jack Daniels - Thank you for sending this in! I hope you enjoy this, darling! I know it’s a little angsty, but I have a plan so don’t worry too much!!

Jack Daniels was the best Agent within the Statesman organization. 

Skilled, suave, brave, reliable, dedicated. Jack was everything the agency stood for, everything they valued. Because of that, he’d risen quickly in the ranks, becoming a Senior Agent after only eight years of service. 

But there was one thing that set him apart from the rest of the Agents even more than those attributes - his willingness to partake in tests of new, experimental technology that could help the agency gain advantages. He had been the first to step forward when researchers brought Alpha-Gel to trial, fully aware and accepting of the risks involved. 

Nothin’ much to lose if it goes sideways. 

So when Champ and Ginger came to him with the proposition of a new trial, Jack had all but signed on before knowing a single detail. 

“It’s not as dangerous as the Alpha-Gel testing was,” Ginger explained. “But it’s … delicate.” 

“Well, darlin’, I can be as delicate as a daisy when the occasion calls for it. What’s the mission?” 

He didn’t expect time travel.

They called it The Rewind, since for now Statesman only had the ability to move in one direction along the continuum - backwards, and only up to three years - and Ginger had been right to deem it delicate. Time was a fragile thing, and handling it too harshly left fingerprints where they didn’t belong. Those fingerprints could cause the present to cave in on itself and the future cease to exist. 

Jack silently hoped that they never gained the ability to travel beyond the three year mark. He knew that if it became possible to go back to the moment that his wife was killed, no amount of moral obligation would keep him from trying to save her. 

Future be fuckin’ damned. 

The Rewind hadn’t been engineered so Agents could change things that had already happened, though. It was created strictly so the agency could gather intelligence. It allowed a person to go back to a specific time and place, to witness that moment again and again from different perspectives, drop eaves on a conversation until it had been memorized, hunt for clues in the near past that might give them an edge in the present so they could put a stop to things before they happened. 

But it was still in the early stages. There was still a battery of experiments to run. That was where Jack came in. 

“We’ll be sending you back three years, to the night of July 19th. There’s a place on the outskirts of town called the Junction. Or -” Ginger arched one eyebrow. “There was. It closed down six months ago. But before it did? A lot of shady characters used to meet there. We think it’s where Dark Shadow did most of its recruiting.” 

Jack’s top lip curled at the mention of the crime organization. Dark Shadow had been a weapon smuggling ring that operated by overwhelming local law enforcement with a slew of small crimes so that they could pull off their larger ones while the authorities were distracted. They sold guns to drug dealers, who in turn put pistols in the hands of every sales soldier on the streets. They were the reason that countless hearts had been broken by the words “wrong place, wrong time” just as Jack’s had. 

Taking them down had undoubtedly been his proudest moment as a Statesman. 

Ginger explained that since they already knew how things shook out for Dark Shadow, testing the Rewind on their hideout meant that the stakes were low. “For now we just want you to go, spend a few hours there, act as though you’re just a patron getting a drink. You can talk to people as long as you don’t tell them anything that hasn’t happened for them yet. We’ll pull you back remotely when it's time, and then you’ll report on anything you can remember.” 

Jack nodded. “Seems simple enough.” 

“We’ll repeat this process until we’re confident that you’ve absorbed every detail of that night - what people were wearing, the texture of the bar top, all of it. That gives us an idea of how big a window we’ll have when we send Agents in for live missions. How long they’ll need in a space that size with the same number of variables and-” 

“Ginger.” Champ cleared his throat as a gentle interruption. “Think he gets the idea. Don’t ya, Whiskey?” 

“Sure. Like any old night on the town. ‘Cept it’s the same night every night until I can paint it pretty as a picture for you. That about it?” 

Ginger gave a sheepish nod, aware that she was prone to over explanation at times. “Yup. That’s about it. For now.” 

– – – 

Jack stopped outside the Junction, staring at the flickering neon letters on the sign that hung in the window. Like always, the C was dead. This time, though, he noticed that it was due to a crack in the lightbox that looked distinctly like a bullet hole. 

Well look at that. A new piece of the picture already. 

With that he went inside. He wasted no time lingering near the dart boards or sauntering through the billiards tables as he’d done his first few July 19ths. He’d already gained what he could from the people gathered around them on previous trips. This time his focus was directly on the bar. Or more directly on the woman behind it. 

You.

It was his twelfth time pulling up a stool and ordering a drink from you. Nine of those times he’d asked you your name and he’d given you his. You’d spent nearly half your shift ignoring other customers to talk with him on at least seven occasions. Five times he’d caught you looking at him in the bar mirror, a guilty - but not ashamed - grin curving your cheeks. There were four times when you had asked him if he wanted to get coffee at the diner on ninth street, three when he had said yes, and two when you’d invited him back to your place after that. The last time he walked into the Junction he ended up in your bed, with you panting his name into his ear. 

He remembered every detail of every interaction with you.

But for you it was the first time you’d seen him. You didn’t know his name or his drink. Didn’t know that he made you laugh or that his hands had already mapped your body. “What’ll you have, Cowboy?” 

He gave you the same smile he had the last few times - which meant that you couldn’t tell it was just a little sad. “Whiskey’n water, darlin’.” 

Always the same. 

He couldn’t help the twinge in his chest as you turned to make his drink. Jack wasn’t expecting the mission to be time travel. And he sure as shit wasn’t expecting to fall for a woman from a different timeline. But here he was. And there you were. 

The Alpha-Gel trials had been painful. Knowing that you would forget him every time was torture.

Still, when you asked him out for coffee, he grinned, standing from his stool. “You ever been to the 9th Street Diner, darlin’?” 

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list, please feel free to let me know. You can also fill out the form on my Masterlist! :)

tags:  @something-tofightfor​ @paracosmenthusiast​ @cannedsoupsucks​ @dihra-vesa​ @disgruntledspacedad​ @littlemisspascal​ @hellovanessax​ @mishasminion360​ @nyctophiliiiiaaa​ @practicalghost​ @tanzthompson​ @harriedandharassed​ @woodlandmouth​ @swtaura @trickstersp8​ @princessxkenobi​ @imtryingmybeskar​ @wildmoonflower​ @mswarriorbabe80​ @theredwritingwitch​ @silverstarsandsuns​ @competentpotato​ @pedro-pedrito-pascalito​ @jedi-in-crocs​ @hannahkatharine​ @novemberrain221 @chiyo13​ @myloveistoolittle​ @spishsstuff @writeforfandoms

#12 A Palooza! #1200 followers 1200 words #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels kingsman golden circle #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels fic #kingsman the golden circle #pedrostories #pedro pascal character #it's always the same #Spotify

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode illustrée, no. 38, 17 septembre 1865, Paris. Toilettes de Melles Rabouin, 67, r. Nve. des Pts. Champs. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

Description de toilettes:

Jupe en popeline unie, nuance vert anglais, garnie d'un volant tuyauté, bordé d'un galon oriental et surmonté de quatre galons semblables. Robe pareille à cette jupe, garnie avec six galons un peu plus larges que les précédents, relevée sur la jupe par un porte-jupe dont le patron a paru dans le no. 24. Paletot pareil à la robe, bordé d'un galon, et retenu par une large ceinture en ruban assorti aux galons.

Petite fille de huit ans. Robe et paletot en alpaga blanc, ornés d'une broderie branche dé corail exécutée en laine rouge.

Toilette de bal d'automme. Robe de dessous en taffetas mauve. Robe de dessus en mousseline blanche, brodée avec un gros bouillonné traversé par un ruban mauve. Un bouillonné pareil, mais étroit, forme tunique par devant et remonte garni, d'une dentelle étroite sur chaque couture des lés. Une dentelle plus large garnit, en guise de volant, ce bouillonné étroit et retombe jusqu'au gros bouillonné. Corsage décolleté à longues basques arrondies, entièrement bouillonné en long et garni d'un bouillonné étroit et de deux dentelles. Un chou de ruban mauve est placé à chaque échancrure des basques. Manches courtes. Couronne en marguerites blanches.

—

Skirt in plain poplin, English green shade, trimmed with a piped ruffle, edged with an oriental braid and topped with four similar braids. Dress similar to this skirt, trimmed with six braids a little wider than the previous ones, raised on the skirt by a skirt holder whose pattern appeared in issue no. 24. Overcoat similar to the dress, bordered with a braid, and held in place by a wide ribbon belt matching the braids.

Dress for an eight-year-old girl. White alpaca dress and overcoat, decorated with coral branch embroidery in red wool.

Fall ball gown. Underdress in purple taffeta. White muslin outer dress, embroidered with a large swirl crossed by a mauve ribbon. A similar bubble wrap, but narrow, tunic-shaped at the front and trimmed with narrow lace on each seam of the strips. A wider lace garnishes, as a ruffle, this narrow bubble and falls down to the large bubble. Low-cut bodice with long rounded basques, entirely bubbled along the length and trimmed with a narrow bubble and two laces. A piece of purple ribbon is placed at each notch of the basques. Short sleeves. White daisy wreath.

#La Mode illustrée #19th century #1860s #1865 #on this day #September 17 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #description #color #Forney #dress #Modèles de chez #Mademoiselles Rabouin #gown #evening

[eldritch-spouse]

Pin-Pin! You remember this 👉

https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/690221338705674240/what-are-the-names-of-the-various-yns-i-know?source=share

Please, please can we get an update from more of your ocs? 🥺

[Sure. Here's an updated version. Some of these repeat between characters. I'm deleting the old one to avoid confusion.]

What they call you

//-[TCE]-//

Belo: Chosen (in Krulu/You/Belo context); Charge; Lady; Lesser.

Santi: Love; Minx; Passion; Cocktease.

Grimbly: Mommy; Snack.

Patches: Firefly; Moonlight.

Sybastian: Muse; Catch; Treasure.

Vinnel: Poppet; Poppy; Daisy Bell; Petunia.

Gallon: Cherry; Chéri; Sangria.

Morell: Piglet; Piggy; Pumpkin.

Nebul: Pearl; Pet.

Fank-e: Spark; Bolt; Squishy; Squish.

Anomalies/Aquarium

Hellion (doesn't speak): Flower.

Pebble (doesn't speak): Mate; Wingless.

Colmei (doesn't speak): Queen; Matriarch.

Glauk (usually unintelligible): Friend (regardless of the dynamic being romantic/sexual).

Magus (usually unintelligible): Minnow.

//-[Icons]-//

(Aside from just "Queen")

Vesper: Vixen; Darling; Royal slut (insert endless dirty terminology).

Zizz: Marshmallow; Pillow; Softie.

Vorticia: Nibble; Tasty.

Cero: Inamorata; Pet; Cur.

Rinx: Jewel; Gem.

Livius: Sweetums; Idol.

Kalymir: Runt; Pipsqueak.

//-[Siadar and more]-//

Krulu: Chosen; Lamb; Songbird; Vessel; Lesser.

Miara: Charm; Shard.

Dorem: Flicker; Spark.

//-[Misc]-//

Breg: Angel; Mate; Wife.

Fasma: Toots; Tootsie; Sugar.

Shags: Inkling; Muse.

Ludwig: Babe; Noodle.

Obie: Peach; Bonbon.

Mervin: Pet; Loser; Lovely (rare).

Lacai: Lady; Cherub.

Nena: Butterfly; Beauty.

Pinter: Shorty; Champ.

Adelo: Peasant (playfully); Hummingbird.

Adrul: Beloved; Desired.

Sever (unintelligible): Morsel; Outsider.

Ivani: Dork; Loser; Nerd.

Katia: Sweetie; Cutie.

Jonesy: Chosen (in Miara/You/Jonesy context); Dove; Lesser.

Rei: Dolce; Doll; Dollface.

Katalina: Baby; Silly.

#general tce

[starry-hughes]

ok thinking more about daisy breaking her arm

she’s out skating quinn is sitting on the bench keeping a close eye on her. he looks at his phone for one minute answering a text from mom asking how it’s going. right after he hits send he hears crying and immediately knows it’s daisy and is rushing over to her. he sees that she’s holding her arm, one of the other parents around tells him what happened. the parent tells him that no one touched her she was just simply skating and she fell and tried to catch herself.

he takes her to the hospital, after she gets checked out and gets a cast on her quinn calls mom and tells her what happened. mom is on the phone freaking out asking tons of questions like how it happened if someone pushed her. he tells her no one touched her and it was a pure accident and that she just fell and tried to catch herself. meanwhile daisy is sitting in the hospital bed high on pain meds sitting there with a popsicle waiting to go home.

they get home mom immediately gives daisy a big hug. that whole night was spent sitting on the couch cuddled up watching daisys favorite movies till she falls asleep. the next day daisy is facetiming all her uncles and her grandparents showing off her new cast.

“poppa look!” she shouts showing off her neon green cast. she’s like three and is a champ about her cast. quinn took her to his practice and all the canucks signed her cast.

“uncle lu! it’s green!”

“wow kiddo, you’re so tough.” luke says and you can hear jack muffled in the background. “uncle jacky says be careful next time, okay?”

“he falls.”

“i know.”

#daisy’s au!