hat wobble

A Little Help

Pairing: poltergeist!xiumin and you

Word Count: 1633

Genre: supernatural/fantasy

Rating: 14+, tagged for alcohol and brief sexual harassment

Description: After some creep decided it was his right to dance with you, a familiar sweetheart bailed you out and took you home. What happened after that was an experience you never could have seen coming.

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Fic: Weekend at Bartons, pt. 2

“Do you have your instructions?”

“Dear God, what TIME is it?”

Tony snapped his fingers in front of Clint’s nose. This won him one partially opened eye. He considered it a victory. “Instructions,” Tony repeated, drawing the word out. “Do you have them?”

“He has them,” Steve said, sounding too amused for Tony’s peace of mind. He set the suitcases down on the floor by the elevator. “It’s fine.”

“Not fine,” Tony said. “Clint. Focus. Instructions.”

“Why am I awake?” Clint mumbled, squinting at nothing. He shoved a hand through the tangled rats nest of his hair. His pajama pants slipped low on his hips, and he dragged them back up with a yawn.

Tony threw his hands in the air, and Steve ducked his head to try and hide a smile. “Because you’re going to be responsible for DJ in about fifteen minutes,” he said. Clint turned his squint in Steve’s direction, his face a mask of confusion, and Steve patted him on the shoulder. “Let me get you some coffee.”

“I don’t think coffee’s going to do it, I don’t think a brain transplant would do it,” Tony pointed out.

“It’ll be fine!” Steve said, heading back up the hall.

“Not fine,” Tony groused under his breath. “Absolutely not fine.” He leaned in. “Clint. I am trusting you right now.”

“Well, that’s your fucking mistake, isn’t it?” Clint asked, stretching, and nearly lost his pants again.

“Those things come with a drawstring, don’t they?” Tony asked.

“Broke,” Clint said.

Tony stared at him, nonplussed. “How do you keep them up normally?”

Clint shrugged. “I tuck the waistband into the top of my underwear.” Tony stared at him. Clint stared back. “What?” he asked, hitching his pants up.

“I suppose I should be thankful that you’re wearing underwear,” Tony said.

“Living the dream,” Clint agreed. He scratched idly at the plane of his stomach. “Shouldn’t you be leaving now?”

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At The Drop of A Hat + A Daddy!Killian One Shot

A little daddy!Killian + hat and hair appreciation….because apparently, I’m a little fixated on this right now.


“Papa, why do you wear that hat all the time?”

Killian smirked down at his son, wondering where in the blazes such an inquiry was coming from. Truthfully, he always found himself curious when confronted with Liam’s intriguing yet rather blunt wonderings. They often landed him in the middle of a makeshift explanation or worse - a speechless state. Yeah, Emma often appreciated that last one far too much.

This current question had Killian musing already - and finding out where his little boy could be headed with this one was something he couldn’t pass up. The few blocks they were trekking to the sheriff’s station would give him a fair amount of time for some answers.

“Well,” he began, using the hand that wasn’t holding Liam’s to lift the cap off his head. “I guess….well, I just like it. Sometimes people wear things that support their favorite things like a sports team….and you know I like the-”

“Whitecaps,” Liam finished, cutting his father off with a sigh. “I know, papa.”

“Yeah I thought you might,” he laughed at Liam’s easily recalled knowledge, squeezing his hand as they crossed the street. “So what exactly are you wondering about, little man?”

“Well, mama always says I look like you,” Liam explained, smiling in a way that defined his dimples.

“Aye,” Killian replied, returning his grin. “You’re pretty fortunate in that sense, my boy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Liam teased, shaking his head much like his mother would. “But I think she says that because we have the same hair.”

Killian tilted his head sideways at the conclusion. It was and had always been true. Their little Liam had definitely ended up with his father’s head of unruly dark hair. He looked more and more like Killian every day as his scalp grew in thick and wild, sometimes splashed with mist from a day out in the harbor. Other times, it stuck up in all directions - a familiar scene with both father and son during their regular breakfast time at the kitchen table. Yes that kid’s hair was often a wavy mess, but even more often, it was disheveled in a way Emma seemed to appreciate. 

Yeah, it was quite clear that Emma was fine with their son taking after his father in this regard - well, in many regards.

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