#Ocean rodeo

[kiteschoolpalm]

Ruben Len10s erster Double Loop mit Aluula Kite Video

Ruben Len10s erster Double Loop mit Aluula Kite Video

Aluula Kites: Ultimative Leistung und Leichtigkeit – Jetzt Erhältlich! Der legendäre Kite-Loop-Pionier Ruben Len10 beeindruckt mit seinem ersten Double Loop, dem Len20, unter Verwendung des neuen Cabrinha Moto X DesignWorks 2024 Aluula. Im Video ist auch der Cabrinha Nitro Apex 2024 5-Strut zu sehen. Zudem fliegen im Hintergrund zahlreiche legendäre Core XR Pro Aluula Kites über Tarifa,…

[integrationslady]

Photo dump of my girls weekend in Seattle and Los Angeles. It wasn't as warm as I wanted it to be.

[musiconspotify]

Elijah Ocean

Rodeo Songs (2023) … true honky tonk …

#ElijahOcean

[sunsetchicane]

I love your post card series! Could I request Oscar with rodeo reader where they’re penpals and Oscar subscribes to the cowboy channel (that’s actually what it’s called) to watch his penpal and rodeo reader starts to watch f1 and then she gets invited to Austin?

love letters [OP81]

oscar piastri x fem!barrel racer!reader [from southern US]

word count: 4.2k

summary: The one where you meet a certain racing driver as you're both starting your careers and you decide to keep in touch.

warnings: fluff, fluff, oh and a little more fluff! angst maybe if you squint and tilt your head

author's note: To my dearest anon, this is MY love letter to YOU. Thank you for requesting this and letting me write about the rodeo; it brought me back to when I was just a little girl and was oddly healing?? Sorry for being a sap lol! I hope this is to your liking :) Feedback, comments, reposts, and likes are always appreciated!!! Peace and love babes. [xoxo elle]

“Speed. Agility. Determination. This barrel racing pair is one for the ages and the crowd here today knows it,” Janie Johnson says, a bright smile on her face while she stares down the barrel of the camera.

She turns her attention over shoulder when the crowd’s cheers hit a crescendo. You’ve just rode out into the arena, the American flag streaming by your side while you gallop around. Chants and cheers of your name fly from the mouths of onlookers, swallowing everything into a thunderous roar. For this moment, the entire world is yours. The other top riders follow you out into the dirt of the arena, hands waving and smiles flashing. There’s nothing quite like being at the rodeo. 

“And there she is, our winner today and her beautiful horse, Sweet Tea,” Janie says, unable to look away from the way you and your horse run the perimeter. You take your time, soaking up the glory of another win. 

You fly through your post-race duties, one thought constant in your mind: you have to write your letter to Oscar. It’s sort of a silly tradition, but you’ve been doing it for ages. After a rodeo weekend or a race weekend for him, you both would write each other a letter explaining everything in careful detail. You loved it. Even though the information about the rodeo and the race would be released ages before the letters arrived in your respective mailboxes, it was still amazing to hear about things from his perspective and explain your’s to him.

So, once everything is loaded up and you’re back on the road, you lean yourself back in your seat with a pen and pad of paper in your lap trying to put everything you’re feeling into words. Though your sports were different in a lot of ways, there were similarities that pulled the two of you together. The pressure, the adrenaline, the rush of a win. It’s what made you two so close even though there were vast oceans separating you. 

As you write, you can’t help but reminisce on the first time you ever wrote one of these letters. It was years ago, just as you started pro barrel racing. It was a rodeo early in the season. You were dressed and ready for your pool. Sweet Tea was edgy and nervous and so were you. You were the rookie pair that year, just a five year old horse and an 18 year old jockey. You remember that you felt way in over your head that day as you watched the vets take on the arena. 

To ease both of your nerves, you led Sweet Tea on a walk. Whispering to her with your head low, you didn’t even notice the group walk up in front of you. The voice of your manager made you tip your head up, looking at him under the brim of your hat. He smiled at you and introduced you to a group of young, thin, pale looking boys. He explained that they were from a Formula 3 team called Prema. You’d never heard of Formula anything before.

Your manager led the group of boys away after some small talk. They were nice enough, but you didn’t need any distractions. Just as the last of the boys followed your manager to your stalls, you thought you were free to go about walking Sweet Tea again.

“What’s your horse's name?” An unfamiliar voice with an unfamiliar accent said. You don’t get much for foreign accents at the rodeo, so it took you by surprise. Your eyes met his brown ones. His brown hair was cut short on the sides and the top drooped down over his forehead. He donned a white t-shirt that displayed the word “PREMA” in red, coupled with a pair of blue jeans and sneakers. It was the first of the few times that you’d seen Oscar Piastri in person. The memory lives clear and bright in your mind.

“Sweet Tea,” you answered him in a clipped voice. You were still uppity about your impending race and Oscar was quickly becoming a distraction. 

“Sweet Tea,” he echoed while taking a few steps closer. Tightening your grip on her reins, you waited for her to spook. 

“Wait-” you began to warn Oscar as he crept in closer. But you were swiftly cut off when all Sweet Tea did was bray and huff at him. You were nothing short of shocked. She rarely took to anyone, but she seemed to immediately like him. It made you curious.

“You can pet her, if you want,” you encouraged him while continuing to gauge Sweet’s reaction. Together, the two of you stroked the soft brown of her coat. You could tell that her mood was suddenly a lot sunnier, the moodiness exiting her body as you and Oscar brushed your hands over her.

“What’s your name?” you asked after a while. 

“Oscar,” he replied, his eyes darting up to meet yours over Sweet Tea’s head. For a moment, you studied his face. He looked perfectly calm, peaceful even, in the intense atmosphere that surrounded you. It didn’t surprise you that Oscar’s tranquil nature helped to set Sweet’s nerves at ease. His demeanor was even helping you. 

“She likes you,” you said, giving him a small smile while you dragged your hand over your horse’s nose.

“I hope so,” he said, his eyes flicking from you to Sweet and then back up. 

Everything after that was history.

You and Sweet Tea ran better than you ever had, placing in the top three. It was your best result yet and set you up for success for the rest of the weekend. You saw Oscar every day of the rodeo. He would stop by to say hello to you and Sweet Tea while you were prepping for a race or catch you after your pool. Awkward teenage conversation fell away quickly, giving way to long, easy conversations. 

On Sunday, you and Sweet Tea took it all. It was a huge payday which would boost the rest of your season. You were on cloud nine. Oscar walked with you while you led your horse back to the trailer. Back and forth you talked about the race and how it felt. You were so glad to have someone to talk to about all this. You used to talk to your grandpa about everything, dissecting the race and your rides with him. He’s the one who taught you how to race. But, he died shortly before the season started. He never got to watch you race at this level and you didn’t have him to talk to anymore.

“Sorry, I’m rambling,” you said while turning away and adjusting your hat, suddenly embarrassed at yourself. Oscar wasn’t a rodeo kid. He probably didn’t care how tight your turns around the barrels were or how responsive Sweet was today. 

“No,” he said, quickly cutting you off. “It’s alright. I like to listen.”

Not convinced, you stayed silent.

“It sounds a lot like how I feel when I race, you know. So, I get it,” he admitted then, his shoulders coming up into a shrug. You eyed him from under your hat, glad for the way the wide brim covered most of your face.

“I used to talk to my grandpa about this stuff,” the words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them. If it would have been anyone else, you would have died from embarrassment. But, Oscar just blinked at you and waited patiently for you to elaborate.

“You remind me of him,” as you said it, you want to punch yourself in the face. You really went two embarrassing moments for two that day.

“Thank you?” he said, a small chuckle coating his words. He smiled at you so warmly that it thawed the icy shame in your chest slightly. 

“I just mean that,” you tried to salvage what you thought was meant to be a compliment but just came out really weird. “You’re a good listener, like him.”

Oscar nodded, his small smile still on his lips. His perpetually tired-looking eyes were soft and kind while he watched you walk your horse. You believe that it was in that moment that you became friends, good friends.

Coming up on your trailer, you slowed your pace, wanting to prolong your last moments with your new friend. Feelings that had been growing steadily over the weekend were at their peak, downing you in an intense feeling of longing. If you could do anything to never let him leave your side ever again, you would do it. In a heartbeat. In the span of just a few days, you’d grown so close that it felt like there’d never been a time where you didn’t know him. Friendly affection wasn’t an apt description of what passed between the two of you. A four letter word danced around in your teenage mind. But you couldn’t say that to him. You’d only known him for 72 hours. 

“We leave tonight,” Oscar said then, shoving the toe of his shoe into the grass. You leaned into Sweet Tea, stroking her neck and avoiding looking at your brand new best friend–your brand new obsession. Emotion roared like a tide inside of you, threatening to spill out from your eyes in tears and from your mouth in a confession. 

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” your voice was thick with your southern accent. It always got heavier when you were emotional.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. Your eyes flicked to his then, taking in the soft look that graced his features. He seemed so sure of his words. It placed a little peace in you to know that he was just as intent on not letting go of the relationship you’d built as you were.

“Can I write to you?” you asked suddenly, not sure why this is the way you wanted to keep in contact with him. There was something inside of you that longed to write to him. Handwritten letters seemed deeply personal, intentional, everything that you wanted to convey to him. 

“Write…like letters?” he asked, his small smile turning into an amused grin. Instead of becoming embarrassed at your suggestion, you held firm. Nodding at his question, you sent him a small smile. He shook his head a little and asked for your phone. You handed it to him and he typed in his contact, only filling out the address line and his name. 

Once your phone was back in your possession, he said a goodbye to Sweet Tea while stroking her nose lovingly. She whinnied at his touch, tossing her head affectionately. Then he turned his attention to you, he stepped closer than he ever had. Invading your air, you thought he might kiss you. Your heart stopped for a moment, teenage love sending sparks across your eyes. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a tight squeeze. Your arms slung easily over his shoulders, holding him close. You relished the feeling of his chest against yours, his breath against the back of your neck. 

That’s the feeling that you’ve held onto over the last four years. It’s the feeling you hold close on lonely nights on the road. It’s the feeling you remember every time you pen a letter to your closest friend, wishing that you could’ve had the chance to be something more.

Over the years you’ve kept up with Formula racing, just for the sake of watching Oscar. Though, you’ve started to become quite the fan. Especially now, as Oscar is tearing it up for McLaren. He’s had an exceptional season. In his faithful letters, he writes in his subdued way about how thrilled he is about this season. His humility never fails to make you smile. It’s one of the things that makes him Oscar. 

He also writes about watching you on the Cowboy Channel whenever he can. You’re always surprised and warmed when he includes details of your race or compliments your skills. His words, though concise, are eloquent in their own way. Whenever you read his letters, you can hear his voice in your head.

So, as you wrap up your letter, you’re already anticipating his response. Your eyes drift to the window once you’ve tucked everything away. The familiar rolling fields of perfectly parallel rows of crops lull you into a sleepy trance. Dreams of seeing Oscar again flood your mind when your eyes slide closed and fall comfortably asleep.

The final turn into your gravel driveway pulls you from your nap. You’d slept for nearly the entire drive. You’re warm from sleep, your eyes still heavy but your body feeling refreshed after a long weekend. 

You and your small team unload the horses and the equipment quickly, desperate to return to your respective homes for a meal and your own bed. There’s nothing quite like returning to the ranch after a rodeo weekend. As you sling up your last saddle, you wonder if Oscar feels that way about home after a race weekend. You make a mental note to ask him about it in your next letter.

Before heading into your home, you run out to the mailbox and place your letter in it. Flipping the red flag of your mailbox up and walking away, you’re already anxiously awaiting his response. 

Instead of dwelling on your letter and Oscar, which will definitely send you into an anxious tizzy, you decide to catch up on a couple of work related things to keep yourself distracted. Snuggled cozily into your bed after a long shower, you pull out your laptop and open your email. There are a dozen different unread emails from rodeo crews, journalists, and ranch staff. However, one unfamiliar sender catches your eye.

It’s from McLaren.

Ignoring everything else for the moment being, you rush to open the email. Rarely have you received emails from the McLaren F1 team. Every once in a while, they send you PR gifts or things of the like because of your connection with Oscar. But this one looks different. It’s more personal than that.

When your eyes read the contents of the document attached to the email, you nearly fall off your bed. It’s an official invitation from the McLaren team to join them as a guest for the Grand Prix in Austin the following week. Slack jawed, you mindlessly follow the directions on how to accept the offer. Nothing matters right now except for this.

After four years, you’re finally going to see Oscar again.

—

Walking onto the Paddock, you feel oddly at home. The hustle and bustle of a race weekend reminds you of your weekends at the rodeo. Team members and journalists and officials stream around you, everyone hellbent and on a mission. You’re swallowed into the excitement of it all, fading into just another body in the masses. It brings you peace that you weren’t sure you were going to find here. 

“Miss?” a voice says from just behind you. Narrowing your attention to them, you turn around quickly. A small girl with bright blonde hair sends you a quick smile. She’s adorned with the bright papaya of McLaren. Her eyes drag from your hat-covered head to your boot-clad feet. Your light colored Wranglers hug your curves and flair out over your boots. A matching blazer covers your shoulders and the white button-up with the first few buttons undone. The look is complete by a dark orange, silk bandana tied loosely to one of your belt loops. You know you look like the epitome of country, but it was all intentional. 

The McLaren employee confirms who you are before offering to lead you to the garage. Swallowing hard, you trail behind her, cutting your way through the sea of people. Nerves dance around in your stomach. You feel like you’re back on top of Sweet Tea the day you met Oscar, wide-eyed and anxious as all get out. But there’s something deeper that keeps you moving, a desire–a need–to see Oscar again. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of for years. 

Every letter has been in preparation for this moment. Every word you’ve ever written to him saying the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say all those years ago. For the past week you’ve been rehearsing exactly how you’re going to tell the love of your life that you’ve fallen for him, that you’ve loved him since you were just 18. There’s nothing that could stop you, not even the fear of rejection. Four years of longing have put you in indescribable agony. There has to be some sort of resolve, good, bad, or otherwise. Today is the day that you’re going to share the one secret that you’ve ever kept from him. 

The blonde employee, Julia, leads you into the garage and begins introducing you to the team. Smiling and snapping photos with some people, you lose count of how many names you’re told and hands you shake. Not that you’re really trying to keep track, your mind being pulled in a different direction. Desperately, your eyes scan the small garage for the only face that really matters. 

You’re in the middle of discussing your latest race with one of the engineers when some movement from the back of the garage steals away your attention. A mop of brown hair and a dashing smile that you’d never forget comes into view. He’s rounding the car, chatting with his engineers and crew while laughing. He’s dressed in his race suit, the arms tied around his waist and showing off his skin tight fireproofs. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him. The rest of the world fades into a blur while your living, breathing dream shimmers like a mirage in front of you. 

Finally, finally, he turns around with the soft smile that you’ve missed so much on his face. From across the garage, over the massive car between you, you lock eyes. Tears spring to your eyes as his jaw goes slack. You barely have time to blink or breathe before he jerks into action. He’s rounding the car in a hurry, whispering rushed apologies as he gently shoves people out of his way. You break away from your conversation with an ‘excuse me,’ meeting Oscar halfway.

The force of his hug knocks your hat clear off your head, but you hardly notice as he sweeps you up off the floor and into his arms. His arms, which are much larger than you remember, strangle you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. His face presses roughly into the crook of your neck. Smiling like a fool, you keep your arms wrapped around his neck, never wanting to let go. 

When he finally sets you back down, you pull only one hand away to wipe furiously at the tears that have slipped out of your eyes. Sniffing, you laugh at what a mess you’ve become. But when you look up to find Oscar’s tear rimmed eyes and bright smile, you can’t help but choke on another sob.

His hands are still on your waist while you try to sort yourself out. Eyes shining, you take him in fully. He’s so grown. He’s tall and broad and all man. Except for his eyes, his gorgeous brown eyes, and his boyish smile. Those two things have stayed the same. Looking at them now, it’s like your past and your future have collided and coalesced into one man. Sighing, you shove him playfully in the chest.

“When did you go and get all grown up?” you say, your voice thick with emotion. He captures your hand on his chest, taking it into his own. With his fingers wrapped around yours, you feel perfectly at home. A slight blush has crept into his cheeks, painting a soft rose across his ivory skin. Your chest squeezes at the sight.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says quietly while reaching down to pick up your hat. Playfully, he shoves it back onto your head with a small smile. 

For a couple of comfortable seconds, you just stand there in each other’s presence. Soaking in everything he is, you bask in the moment. He’s here with you. Finally. And the way he’s looking at you with those brilliant brown eyes makes you feel like not a day has passed since he left. The feeling that was born inside of you when you were 18, is reborn with double the intensity. Your love for the man in front of you is overflowing; it’s drowning you.

“Do you have a minute?” you ask after a while, your eyes darting around to the crowd around you. Oscar snaps back into reality with you, following your gaze to the stray looks you’ve been getting. Nodding, he leads you by the hand back to his driver’s room. 

It’s a tiny space, just big enough for a couch and a small closet. But it’s private enough to have the conversation you’ve been equally needing and dreading. Oscar sits next to you on the tiny couch, his side pressed into yours. You can’t tell if the contact makes you more nervous or sets you at ease. For as many times as you’ve thought about and planned for this moment, nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

Fiddling nervously with the hem of your bandana, you avoid looking your friend in the eyes. But, you can feel him staring at you. Suddenly, a large hand closes around both of yours, causing you to cease your fidgeting. Turning your eyes to his, you take in the crease between his brows and the small frown that pulls at the corners of his lips.

“Is everything alri-” he begins but you’re quick to cut him off. 

“Ah, hell,” you mumble quickly, making a knee jerk decision.

With both hands you grab him by the neck and yank his face to yours. His head knocks your hat back on your head, giving you enough space to kiss him. Pressing your unmoving lips to his, you hold him there in desperation. 

So much for the carefully crafted speech that you’ve spent four years on. 

For a couple heart wrenching seconds, he doesn’t move. He’s gone completely still under your hands, his lips slightly parted in shock. Shame pools low in your stomach as you begin to pull away. But your heartbreak lasts only a split second before his hand is on the back of your neck, keeping you in place while he bursts into action.

His kiss is just as desperate as you feel. Pressing into each other with all the passion you’ve been harboring for four years, you’re both consumed by the heat of the moment. Your head swims as his lips glide against yours, his tongue skimming over your bottom lip before pressing deeper. 

His free hand reaches out, grabbing your knee to haul you onto his lap. Sliding home over his muscular thighs, you sigh into his mouth. Nothing has ever felt more right. Perfection doesn’t do Oscar justice. He’s everything. 

He holds your waist tight between his large hands while your kiss slows down. Lazily, you suck at his bottom lip while he chases you backward. Once again his chest is on yours, your memory flicking back to the last time you saw him. You knew then that you were his, and he was yours. Nothing could keep you apart, especially not now. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and voice soft. You’d never been one to beat around the bush; so why even try when it matters most?

The payoff is better than you could have ever hoped. Oscar doesn’t waste a second before both of his hands cup either side of your face, holding a searing kiss to your lips. He’s firm but kind. He’s Oscar.

“I love you,” he replies breathlessly after a couple seconds.

Your heart soars, leaving your soul in outer space. Seeing stars, you lean your forehead against his, a small laugh bubbling from your chest. Oscar chuckles with you, his chest rumbling under your hands. Pulling back slightly, you take your time to just look at him. Soft brown eyes meet yours and there’s a look there that you know you mirror with your own gaze. Affection, longing, love.

“I had this whole speech ready, you know,” you accuse while adjusting your hat on your head. Oscar’s mouth falls open slightly, faux offense coming over his features.

“You’re the one who kissed me!” he accuses right back. “I was all prepared, too. But someone was just over eager to jump my bones.”

Pinching his side playfully, you watch gleefully as he yelps. Shushing him quietly, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. Silently, an agreement that this was far better than any words you could have said passes between you.

Shaking his head, he settles his arms around your waist and smiles despite himself. With callused fingers, you trace constellations between his freckles. Your heart sings and you wonder how you were ever able to stand being away from him. With Oscar next to you, with his breath on your face, and with his smile for just you, you know that this is it for you.

Four years have been spent dreaming of him. Now, the rest of your life will be spent dreaming with him.

[schnuckiputz]

it takes a while, but one day, after the kids have graduated, eddie and steve pack their most precious things into eddie's van, and they leave. for months, they just drive from city to city, from state to state, go wherever it takes their fancy. until they find a little town surrounded by age-old trees and mountains, with unpredictable weather and more rain and fog than sunshine. but the pacific ocean isn't far, and if they leave early in the day, they can spend a few hours in san francisco's queer neighborhoods.

the town has a little old diner that's a bit run down but has good bones. so, steve and eddie combine their powers: steve knows how to take care of customers, has one of his nonnas old books with delicious cake recipes, and knows how to use it. eddie is a god in the kitchen and knows how to make money stretch. they are both charming, so pretty soon they have a few regulars and a steady stream of patrons.

included, are a group of high schoolers. and neither eddie nor steve know what happened to these kids, but they recognize the looks in their eyes. and they just can't help themselves, both like taking care of people a little bit too much, so they basically adopt this group of little ducklings, offer their time and ears in the hope of making the lives of these kids a little easier.

but the longer they stay, the more the town starts to feel a little...strange. there is something unsettling about the way the woods creak at night, how the shadows stretch at night. sometimes, after locking up the diner, steve lingers by the stairs that go up to their apartment and stares into the woods, and he knows something is looking back.

it comes to head a few months later. the ducklings stayed late at the diner, late enough that it's just them, when the thing that kept its eyes on steve steps out of the forest. for a second, everyone just stills before the kids spring into action. trying to barricade the diner doors.

steve and edddie share a resigned look, a touch, then separate. eddie goes for the high proof alcohol they keep in the kitchen, making molotov cocktails. steve gets the bat from under the counter. it's not the original, but mark ii is sturdier, a little bit deadlier. he tests his swing once, twice, then steps into the way of the first thing the crashes through a window and bats it right back out.

afterward, the diner is a burnt out shell, but everyone is alive. the kids are a little worse for wear, but steve knows this was probably not their first or second rodeo. steve and eddie keep the kids in sight but step around the van a little for some light thank-fuck-we-survived pda.

that's when a bunch of government cars arrive and out steps none other than owens. owens prioritizes the kids at first before movement catches his eyes. he stops, stares and then makes the kids loose their minds when he greets steve and eddie by name.

steve just pinches his nose and sighs. they should have known.

[sinning-23]

Piercings (Sanji x Reader)

I’ve fallen down the one-piece rabbit hole and most likely have a new hyperfixation I don't care they’re all hot and I will write like my life depends on it. Anyway, ENJOY SOME SANJI 💃🏾✨

Pt.2 out now! (18+)

Warnings: flirting, heavy touching, mentions of needles, kissing omg so scary

You're leaning against the bathroom sink, trying your damdest to keep a steady hand while you try and slide the needle through the skin of your lip. This wasn’t your first rodeo, considering you have plenty of piercings from your past. Whether it was a manic episode, a silly little impulse decision, or one you'd been wanting for a while, you had them.

Being out on the ocean didn’t really leave you a chance to go and get them done by someone in a shop but you picked up tips and knew what to do for the most part. Besides, if you messed up, you'd just have a little story to tell about it later!

You focused, taking one swift, deep breath before letting the metal into your skin, moving calculated with the jewelry, eyes watching a bit from the shock. This one was a bit easier since you’d had them before and the holes had closed. Observing your face with a smile, satisfied with your work you exit the bathroom.

As far as you knew the only other person with a semi noticeable piercing was Zoro. And even though you two didn’t really bond over it, it was something you had in common. Nami had her ears pierced as well but that was cause you'd offered when she mentioned wanting them. Commotion from the kitchen slows you down and you can’t help but let curiosity get the best of you. It was most likely just Sanji making something for lunch.

“Good morning!” You announce, making your way to the countertop to take a seat.

As predicted, Sanji was focused on his craft, hands moving from different ingredients to one big pot and two smaller pans steaming away behind him. Nami waves and smiles in response as Luffy follows behind her, snatching up an orange before smiling your way.

"Good morning Y/n!" Luffy beams, the kitchen falling in silence once again when the pair leaves.

...does this mf not see you sitting here all pretty?

"Good morning to you too my beautiful, wonderfully glorious, super sexy, absolutely adored y/n" You state, albeit a bit teasing.

He looks up for a moment, not missing the way you had rolled your eyes at the fact that he hadn't bothered to return the acknowledgment to you.

"Good morning chérie." He smiles, always intrigued by your chipper yet, slightly flirtatious attitude.

When you first arrived, it was really just to be an extra set of hands and someone with a rather extensive knowledge of islands. Not to mention pretty damn good with the locals considering you were a people person much like your captain. Anyway, Sanji tried his hand at the compliments and pet names, but you always returned them with quick wit.

In all honesty, it shocked him, and soon you were engaged in a mutual flirtatious game of cat and mouse. Pet names became hushed compliments and whispers in one anothers ear. Brief touches became prolonged and damn could you two hold eye contact. At this point, it was basically an eye-fucking starting contest.

You grin at him, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

Sanji paused for a moment to examine your face, four shiny dots along your lower lip, two on either side. He swallows hard, trying to shake himself out of his thoughts. What a pretty mouth.

"New piercings?" He questions, turning away from you and back to the stove.

You give a quick, "mhm!" and hop off to hover beside him.

"Shark bites, I mean, we are on the open ocean so why not!" You explain, leaning against the stove for a moment before jumping back with a hiss. Leave it to you to get injured while trying to mess around and chat in a busy kitchen!

It's instantaneous when Saji turns to see if you're injured, his own coming to yours to observe the burn. It wouldn't be the first item he's asked you to not mess around in here while he's working but you were so damn hardheaded, he knew this. But you just couldn't help it!

Unbeknownst to him, being around him and seeing him was the highlight of your day. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't developed feelings for the flirt. But considering he wasn't just flirty with just you, but Nami too, you'd made plenty of excuses and reasons to back off, even toning down your flirting a bit, thinking that you were getting in the way of who he really wanted.

It always killed you on the inside little bit, thinking of how one day maybe Nami would fall victim to his charm like you had. She'd be the one to whisper things to him, the one to press kisses to his face in adoration maybe. It was an odd way to punish yourself and keep your distance, imagining unrequited love but hey, to each their own.

However, unbeknownst to YOU as well, Sanji had developed a old-fashioned crush. How could he not! He loved the teasing, if he was being completely honest. He loved how you stayed just close enough to him to make his heart beat faster. He'd be more than happy to have you closer in all honesty. Pretty face, pretty personality, witty, fierce, bold as hell might he add.

Not to mention shawty got a body on her- Sanji redirects his focus, looking up into those pretty (e/c) eyes.

Taking your hand he pushed it under the icy water from he sink a silence washing over you.

His hands are bigger than yours, littered with scars as he rubs circles over the top of your hand in comfort. You swallow hard, trying to distract yourself from how warm his grasp feels on your wrist. Gentle but warm, contrasting with the harsh water. He's focused, lips and teeth fiddling with a small silver sphere while he turns the water off and grabs the aid kit beside him.

"Sanji." You breathe out, searching his eyes and lips briefly.

"Stick out your tongue....please?" You ask, seeing him swallow hard, ears flushed red., heat spreading to his cheeks. He doesn't follow through with the request.

Using your free hand, you follow the curve of his jaw before using your thumb to slide down his lips. Soft.

"I'll show mine if you show yours." You offer, letting your tongue slide over your lips deceivingly.

He's got this damn irresistible puppy look in his eyes, his lips parking only a bit before he sticks his tongue out, the silver shining in the kitchen light.

You bit your lower lip for a moment, letting your tongue do the same, only for him to find that it was split. He stopped dressing your hand now, the pain greatly dulled with a new distraction.

"Any more surprise body mods I should know about?" Sanji questions, voice dripping with desire.

Keeping your distance was a joke at this point because you'd be damned if you did have your lips on him within the next 10 seconds.

"I could ask you the same. Though, you should take me out before you see what else I have on my body? Don't you think Sanji?" You whisper his name, testing the waters.

It doesn't take much else for him to lean forward, your lips connecting like puzzle pieces. It's a soft pec at first, but soon becomes hungry and consuming, his pierced tongue sliding over your split one. It's hotter in here, his body caging you in, your hands fighting between staying on him, or resting against the countertop for support.

The tobacco on his tongue is addicting, just as much as the way he makes a point to make you feel the small metal sphere. There's only a moment to breathe, but when you do your right back on each other, this time, finding more stability with your arms around his neck, and his hands at your hips, thumbs tracing just above the curve of your ass. And then he feels it.

"Back dermals. Impulse decision but the backshots are nice."You hum, pulling at his lower let gently with your teeth.

He groans, the grip on your hips becoming tighter when he dips his lips down to the skin of your neck, sucking for a moment in debate. Your bodies are pressed flush against each other, his ears red as the color spreads to his cheeks. It's so damn hot in here.

"Backshots huh?"All takes is a whimper from you and he's back to work, the metal from his piercing sliding over your skin.

A look of horror washes over you before you can respond back, and you're pushing against him in a hurry. He opens his mouth to question what's wrong, anxiety seeping into his chest but before he can ever get a chance to overthink, you're already shouting.

"THE STOVE, SANJI! THE STOVE! ITS ON FIRE!"

____________________

LMK IF YOU WANN BE TAGGED IN PT.2

that one gets a little(a lot) spicier and uninterrupted by kitchen chaos and fire hazards

[sstan-hoe]

Give You a Ride

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — cowboy!steve rogers × fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — you had your eyes on him for a long time...finally something happens but you have to follow one rule; the cowboy rule...

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — SMUT; very little oral, dirty talk, p in v, (use protection!) kinda unprotected sex? reader could be on the pill or smh

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — this is just a little steve drabble so I at least have one fic of him, but idk how to feel about this one!!! reblog, comment and follow!!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You sat alone at the bar, waiting for the rodeo to start. Even though you weren't a big fan of the sport, you were a huge fan of the blonde cowboy.

While all of them were good looking, he was by far the prettiest. You had your eyes on him for some time now, but he never seemed to notice you.

However you also didn't have the courage to ask him out. You were sure, no you saw how many women swooned over him.

In comparison to them you felt small, they knew what they were doing. Maybe that was what he wanted?

On the other side of the bar Steve Rogers couldn’t take his eyes off you. For a few months now he wanted to ask you out, but never did he know how until today.

He waited patiently for his turn on the mechanical bull. Once it was time he put on his cowboy hat and sat down on the bull.

"And now our favourite cowboy! Ladies, keep your panties on, Steve Rogers!" a man behind the microphone announced, catching everyone's attention.

Steve wasn’t a flirt, but he was well aware of his looks and charm. However unlike Bucky he used them carefully.

You sat down excited to see Steve break his own record, watch the way he flexed his muscles as he held onto the moving bull.

Little sweat pearls rolling down his forehead, his mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath.

A few loose strands fall into his handsome face. You felt the need to brush them away, oh how you wished you could. The urge became stronger with every second that passed, you got lost in your thoughts.

All you could think of was his, how his hands would grip your waist as he would fuck you into the mattress, how soft he would be afterwards. The way lips would feel on every inch of your body, the pleasure he would grant you.

Suddenly everyone clapped and cheered, Steve had broken his own record – again. You snapped out of it and saw how he got off the bull.

He grinned while walking towards the crowd. The blonde took off his hat, behind you the women were screaming for him. You stayed silent, not knowing what was going on.

Then he came to a stop in front of you, "hello, bunny," his voice deep, "I think you'd look quite good with my hat," Steve gave you a smirk before placing his hat on your head.

He was right, you looked beautiful. If he could he'd never let you take his hat off.

He was right, you looked beautiful. If he could he'd never let you take his hat off. You were frozen in your spot, having no idea what to do. Your brain couldn’t even comprehend what was happening at the moment.

Steve held out his hand for you to take which you took without hesitation. Your eyes found his blues, they were like an ocean and you wanted to drown in them.

“Let me take you for a ride,” he whispered against the shell of your ear, goosebumps trailed down your spine. God, his voice was like music to your ears.

“Yes, please,” you responded, pressing your body against his. Suddenly you felt hot, every fiber in your body yearned for more touch of Steve. The cowboy wrapped his arm around your waist and led you off the stage.

You couldn’t believe your luck, finally after all this time he saw you and even if it was only for one night you would enjoy it. Get it out of your system.

Steve was ecstatic, his plan worked and now he had you finally for himself. The two of you didn’t even make it to his room before he kissed you, he couldn’t wait any longer.

Your lips moved in sync, his were as soft as a pillow and oh, so gentle. There was no demand in the kiss, only passion, passion that only grew with every moment.

Your back hit the wooden door causing you to gasp, Steve took it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. A dance started between you, who would win it? Who would dominate the other.

Steve unlocked the door behind you and pushed you through the doorway until your back hit the soft cushions of the bed.

With a smirk Steve made sure the hat sat right on you before he unbuttoned your trousers. "Look at this pretty thong my bunny is wearing, only for me?" He asked, his nose almost touching yours.

"Mhm, only for you," you arched your back in an attempt to get closer to him.

Steve let his hand trail beneath your lace thong, as soon as his fingers felt the wetness a low groan slipped from his lips.

"God, bunny, you're drenched…tell me why…, come on tell your cowboy," a hint of pleading was in his voice. Steve wasn't one to beg, and he didn't beg now. The blonde wanted you needy and desperate – as if you weren't already.

"It was–, was you…," a whine pushed past your lips as Steve entered your leaking hole with one finger, "go on," his voice deep, commending.

"On the–, bull, fuck!" You moaned when he curled his fingers and pressed his on your sensitive nub.

"I think it's time you fulfill your duty, bunny," before you could process his words you were on your knees. Steve had unbuckled his pants and found his place next to you.

"Come 'ere," he held his hand out just like he did before. You however weren't sure what to do which resulted in hesitation, an action Steve noticed.

"What's wrong bunny? Don'tcha know the cowboy rule?" a part of him was taunting you, but it only turned you on.

A bit bummed you shook your head, shy to admit it. Steve chuckled deeply and guided you onto his lap, he took out his hard cock. The tip was already leaking with precum, making a little mess on his white dress shirt.

Your eyes widened when you saw his thick girth, wondering how he'd fit inside you.

"Let me give you a little lesson," the blonde said and slowly pushed you down onto his cock. Your drenched cunt working as the perfect lube.

A loud whine fell from your lips, it hurt. He stretched you out and thanks to his length you were sure you felt him in your stomach.

"When a cowboy gives you their head, you have to ride him," Steve whispered, sitting up to lean against the headboard as he titles your chin up.

The thought of riding him had you unknowingly move your hips slightly.

"Have you rode a cowboy before, bunny?" He asked with a smirk and met your light movements. You couldn't get one word out, only shaking your head.

"Then I think it's time," were his last words before he grabbed your waist and moved your hips. It was a weird feeling at first, but the pleasure it brought you made up for it.

You moaned with every thrust you made, everytime you would hit that spot. You wanted more of him, rolled your hips faster and chased your high. Steve groaned, held tight onto you as you were so tight he had a hard time keeping himself from coming.

He was sure if you'd continue squeezing him like that he would explode.

"Yes, ride me, ride me like the slutty little bunny you are. Are you my bunny?" he laced his hand around your neck, squeezing gently yet demanding.

"Answer me," he ordered once more, you couldn't. The pleasure felt too overwhelming, a knot formed in your stomach.

Steve felt you getting tighter, he grabbed your hips and held you down and destroyed the process of your orgasm.

"You wanna come? You answer me bunny, you want to be my good bunny right…ride my cock, make your cowboy feel good…," his voice intense with no room for arguments.

"Yes, yes, yes! I'm your bunny, only yours!" You shouted, needing to quicken your pace again.

Steve nodded in approval, "good bunny," was all he said before letting go of your hips, but still keeping a hand on your throat.

A loud pornographic moan slipped from you, "imma come, Steve, let me come, please," you begged pathetically.

Steve smirked and leaned back, his hand trailing from your throat to your clit to rub tight circles.

"Come my slutty little bunny, but remember…the night's not over yet."

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | I do have a taglist however it has conditions that must be followed — you can follow @sstanhoe-updates for updates without anything

𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑺 𝑶𝑵𝑬 — @smile1318 @wintasssoldier @xcaptain-winterx @georgiapeach30513 @alina02 @broadwaybabe18 @jobean12-blog @buckymcu12 @daemonslittlebitch @shara-ne @lou-la-lou @pomegranatearildreams

[harrywavycurly]

Just to soothe my need for fratty daddy Harry could I tempt you with a forehead kiss to maybe write him and a southern belle meeting? Doesn’t have to be our SC girlie but just another sassy southern to put him in his place?🩷

Hiiii lovey!! Okay because I love a forehead kiss and also frat Harry I will give you a little something!😂💖

*keep in mind this isn’t the Southern Comfort universe, this is just Frat!Harry meeting a sassy Southern!Reader*

A/N: Harry doesn’t have time for autographs but you just need help reaching a jar of sauce, enjoy✨

Harry is exhausted, he just wants to grab some things to make for dinner and head home with causing as little of a scene as possible. He tugs at the beanie he wore to help tame his curls and possibly make it a little harder for someone to recognize him as his eyes scan the selection of pasta in front of him, when he makes the decision to just go with a simple spaghetti he feels someone gently tap on his shoulder. He lets out a small sigh and is quick to put on a smile before he turns to see who it is that tapped him on the shoulder.

“M’sorry I don’t really have time for any autographs right now.” He tries his best to come off as polite as possible in hopes the woman staring up at him will understand that not every situation is an appropriate time to ask for him to sign something or pose for a photo.

“Well you see now sugar that’s actually perfect,” Harry’s eyes go a bit wide as your thick country accent fills his ears taking him off guard. “because I wasn’t gonna ask you for one anyway.” You watch as the smile on his face slowly morphs into a frown of sorts as his brows pinch together. “I just wanted to see if I could borrow a few of your inches and have you grab a jar of pasta sauce for me?” Harry’s eyes follow your finger as you turn your head and point towards a jar that’s on the top shelf of the aisle the two of you are on.

“Sure you can uhm,” Harry fights a smirk as he looks back at you making you raise your eyebrow at him. “Borrow a few of my inches.” You don’t miss the way his eyes quickly glance down to the crotch of his jeans before he looks back to you and shoots you a wink. Harry can’t help himself as he bites his bottom lip as he notices just how cute you are in your cut off shorts and t shirt that says “not my first rodeo” and the way you have to take a slight step backwards to look up at him as you place a hand on your hip.

“Oh well you know what they say don’t you honey?” Harry’s eyes travel back up to yours as you give him a sly smile while your hand reaches out and gently lands on his arm. “It’s not the size of the ship but it’s the motion of the ocean so it’s okay that you only have a few inches for someone to borrow.” You give his arm a light pat before you turn around and head back towards your cart that’s right in front of the pasta sauce section of the aisle leaving Harry standing there with a slight scowl on his face as a scoff leaves his lips.

“I have a nice sized ship thank you very much.” You know he’s offended by the sharp tone of his voice as he follows you towards your cart, his box of spaghetti still in his hands. “And I know how to work the ocean.” He adds as he watches as you point to the jar you want from the top shelf so he can grab it for you.

“Oh so you’re a sailor?” You ask with a smile as he hands you the jar, this earns you an eye roll from him before he looks down at you with a glare.

“A sailor? No I’m Harry Styles.” He waits for the realization of what he just said to sink in and for you to react in the way he’s used to which often includes a scream or at the very least a gasp of some sort and rushing to hug him.

“That’s not a career sugar that’s just a name.” Harry doesn’t know what to do when you just place the jar of pasta sauce into your basket and reach towards the front of it where you have your grocery list so you can cross the item off. “Don’t get me wrong now honey it’s a nice name but it’s just a name.” You explain as you look back at him and see the same slight frown on his face as when you told him you didn’t want an autograph.

“You don’t know who I am do you?” He asks with raised brows and when you just start pushing your cart down the aisle he has no choice but to follow behind you.

“Of course I do,” Harry gets hit with what he feels is a sense of relief as you stop to grab a box of spaghetti from the shelf, the same kind that he has in his hand. “You’re Harry Styles who’s not a sailor and doesn’t have time for autographs right now.” Your response makes Harry run his free hand over his face as he lets out what you swear sounds like a groan while you cross pasta off your list.

Harry opens his mouth to respond but before he can he finds himself looking at the back of your head as you continue down the aisle. His grip on the box of pasta in his hand tightens as he takes two long strides so he’s once again standing behind you as you turn the corner and head down the baking aisle. He doesn’t know why your lack of reaction to finding out who he is bothers him so much but it does.

“What’s your name then? Since you now know mine it’s only polite that you give me yours.” You laugh and shake your head as you stop a few feet down the aisle in front of the sacks of sugar.

“Sorry honey I don’t give my name to strange British men who follow me around but if you’d like to make yourself useful do you mind grabbing that sugar for me? They switched shelves it used to be on the bottom and now it’s all the way up there.” He doesn’t know what it is about you that makes him just do whatever it is that you’re asking. Maybe it’s the way your eyes go all soft and round as you look up at him mixed with your accent that thickens when you’re explaining the way the sugar is now on the top shelf instead of the bottom but either way he finds himself reaching up effortlessly and grabbing the sack of sugar you asked for and handing it to you.

“I’m not following you around.” He argues making you just laugh as you place the sugar in your cart and cross it off your list before continuing down the aisle.

“Whatever you say sugar plum.” Your voice is teasing as Harry stands there chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches you get further away from him and he has to remind himself why he even came to the store in the first place as he looks down at the pasta in his hands. “Have a good rest of your night honey.” His head shoots up and he sees you give him a smile and a wave before you turn and go to the next aisle and as much as he wants to fight it he can’t help the small smile that forms on his face as he turns on his heels and heads back to the pasta aisle to grab a jar of sauce so he can finally be on his way home.

[bullet-prooflove]

Beachside: Travis Wheatley x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @pear-1206 @keyweegirlie @nu1freakshow

Companion piece to:

The Circuit - You're the first person Travis tells about his condition.

Travis doesn’t plan the trip to the beach, it’s just something that happens while the two of you are travelling through Georgia. You’ve been driving along the coast for almost a week now and it occurs to Travis that he can’t remember the last time he actually felt sand underneath his feet.

It’s five in the morning when he pulls up into the vacant car lot. He tells the other guys to take the trailer and carry on without, he’ll catch up with them later. He leaves you sleeping in the passenger seat, his lips brushing over your temple before he shuts the door quietly behind him. The sun is just starting to rise in the distance, he can see the streaks of orange in the sky as the light plays along the soothing waves.

He strips off his boots and then his socks, smiling at the sensation of his feet sinking into the sand. There’s something so cathartic about being near water, he’s always thought that. He doesn’t get much of a chance at home, there’s a couple of lakes a few hours away from his ranch but nothing like this.

The rest of his clothes come off then, his jeans, his shirt, his underwear. He leaves a trail of them across the sand before he steps into the cool water, immersing himself. The sensation it’s bracing, it sends a spike of exhilaration through his muscles as he swims out a few meters before ducking his head under the water.

There’s silence underneath the surface, the noise in his head vanishes and there’s nothing but vastness in that moment. He doesn’t think about his diagnosis, that he barely has a year left in him.

When he comes up for air, it’s the most alive he’s felt in months.

You’re waiting for him on the beach when he finally decides to return to the shore, with a fresh set of clothes and a clean towel. He takes it appreciatively, wrapping it around his waist before he sits down along side of you, the droplets of water still running down his bare chest.

“You didn’t want to join me?” He asks you, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as he stares out across the ocean.

“I thought you may need a little time for yourself.” You tell him, your thumb playing over the worry bracelet on your wrist, the one that he gave you a couple of years back when you’re ex-husband had come back on the scene and was causing all sorts of mischief.

You’ve been playing with it a lot lately, every time he falters, or you hear him vomiting in the bathroom. He hates that he’s doing this to you, that he’s the reason behind your anxiety. When the time comes, when he gets too sick to function, he’s going to disappear, take himself off somewhere private so you don’t have to watch him die.

“Yea. It’s been hard to make peace with it.” He says quietly before he tilts his head towards you. “I don’t want to leave this earth with any regrets but I don’t feel like there’s enough time to rectify all the stupid shit I’ve done over the years.”

“You need to let it go.” You tell him as you nudge his shoulder lightly with your own. “What you did in the past it doesn’t matter, you have to focus on the time you have left.”

The edges of his mouth tip up into a smile as he looks at you. You are everything to him, the sun, the moon, the stars. He’d give you everything if he could, every single part of him.

“Let’s skip the rodeo today.” He says quietly, his fingers interlacing with yours. “Let’s just spend the rest of the day here instead.”

Love Travis? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[katieaki]

So, you’re interested in jumping into Pony Express but aren’t sure where to start/feel daunted by the undertaking/are freaked out about missing lore & context? Pony Express is intended to be a completely standalone work with no knowledge of my prior work necessary for enjoyment, but it has been rolling for quite a while now! Here’s some info to help you orient yourself! 💫 I recommend looking at this guide on desktop as the mobile version collapses the bullet points in a strange way.

✨ Here’s the absolute most basic summary:

Lou Primrose (30 years old, 5'0", illiterate, hardworking, 3x rodeo champion) is a rider for the Pony Express, the Wasteland's mail service. Lou has agreed to transport an unusual package from the middle of the Wasteland to the nearly uninhabited coast: a glamorous redhead named Holliday Bell. A case of mistaken identity sees Lou brutalized and disabled by religious assassin from the church of Johnny Knives (god of death) Reckoning "Artie" Tehachapi, who attempts to atone for her wrongdoing by serving Lou until she's healed. Together (for better or worse) the three of them head toward the ocean through unknown and dangerous territory.

This work is erotic in nature 🔞 with some violence and survival-type gore.

✨ If you’re totally new here, you might have some questions. Here’s a super quick primer under the cut!

What’s up with The Wasteland?

The Wasteland is a post-apocalyptic, non-dystopian society in the former American southwest. It has been several generations since the civilization Before (that’s us, or maybe like... our grandparents) was decimated. Nobody is particularly interested in the whys or hows of the collapse, though it seems that environmental disaster & earthquakes were the main factor.

It’s a series of towns, shrines, convents, and monasteries. Quite a lot of it is in repurposed buildings from Before (imagine Route 66-style gas stations, diners, and motels, all heavily repaired) and some of it is kind of ramshackle old-west-y new builds.

God of Death, religious assassins, churches– what’s up with all that? I’m afraid, sounds lore-y.

Wasteland society is heavily structured around the two churches of the gods of life & sorrow (The Listening Lady) and death & justice (Johnny Knives), who are married, immortal, and absolutely real. They live apart from the mortals, but they do live in the Wasteland with them. The Listening Lady’s church is responsible for basically every aspect of Wasteland life. Listening Church shrines and convents are also the Wasteland’s official or de facto orphanages, pantries, farms, hospitals, therapists, inns, textile mills, wedding venues, and basically everything else you need to keep a society functioning. Listening Church acolytes may have a huge variety of occupations, from the extremely down-to-earth (midwifery and laundry etc) to the real Weird and Churchy (doing rituals and divination etc). Many of them take a vow of silence in honor of The Listening Lady. The church of Johnny Knives is much smaller and much more specialized. Knife Church disciples are assassins whose sacred duty is to kill those who need killing, as judged by god. 

You don’t really need to get INTO this, though. What you need to know is: Listening Church acolytes are generally warm and kind and in caregiver- or artisan-type roles. Knife Church disciples are peacekeepers & generally a little scary, but are also working toward the public good– kind, but not necessarily nice.

I know the concept of gods and disciples invokes the image of like, robes and shit, but that is NOT how it is! Listening Church acolytes tend toward chiffon and midcentury-lingerie-as-outwear looks and/or country western workwear, depending. Knife Church disciples nearly invariably have sort of a greaser/biker/leather daddy thing going on. They all talk about the gods like they’re their parents and their bosses, which they are. I think it’s kind of more normal than you might be expecting. 

So there’s like, magic?

According to the Wastelanders, yes. You don’t need to worry too much about any of that. Just let them do their things.

And everyone is in a church?

Almost everyone interacts with Listening Church in some way, very few interact with Knife Church in any way, but most people in the Wasteland are ‘civilians’ (that is to say, not working for either church).

And they’re all lesbians? How do they have babies??

They’re not ALL lesbians, but basically all our POV characters are & it’s a very lesbian-heavy society. There are many ways that two women may have children, including biological. You got this, I know you do. 

And everyone is blue?

Yeah, but it doesn’t really come up.

Why?

Because I liked drawing them with the sky blue posca paint marker when I began this body of work.

Ok. What’s up with Lou?

Louetta “Lou” Primrose is a rider for the Pony Express– she’s a Wasteland mailman. Her job is basically her whole life. She’s been working since she was ten years old, working for the Pony Express since she was 14. After receiving a romantic rejection from Venus, the dance hall girl she’s in love with, Lou agrees to take a strange red-headed woman, Holliday Bell, to the (allegedly) uninhabited coast, where Holliday’s wife is (allegedly) waiting for her.

Lou is dedicated, practical, and hard-working, but also hot-headed, frequently mean, a little self-conscious, and ‘a rambling man,’ never in one place for long. She’s markedly not religious among other Wastelanders (so is a great pov character for you if you’re new to al this!). Her greatest achievement has been winning the main event at the Wasteland’s biggest horse games three years in a row, unseating the previous champion. Nobody else really cares that much.

What’s up with Holliday?

Holliday Bell is an elegant and mysterious woman who showed up to Lou’s post office with stamps pinned to her blouse, claiming she’d mailed herself there from a town hundreds of miles away. She is asking Lou, who works at the most westerly post office in Wasteland, to finish the delivery by bringing her way out to the coast where she claims her wife, a pearl diver, is waiting for her. 

Holliday is strange. From the beginning, Lou feels put off by her personality, which is both abrasive and seemingly rehearsed. She can be unspeakably cutting and is obviously hiding a big secret. 

What’s up with Artie?

Reckoning “RT” “Artie” Tehachapi is the Knife Church disciple who, after a series of lies and miscommunications spanning several parties across the Wasteland, is sent to apprehend Lou, who she thinks has kidnapped Holliday. She breaks Lou’s wrist and dislocates her shoulder in their first altercation before she learns that Lou is an innocent party in all of this. Deeply ashamed of her actions, she vows to serve Lou until they make it back to civilization.

Artie is upbeat and optimistic, especially for Knife Church, but her guilt at her transgressions against Lou & eagerness to make up for them have left her in a kind of anxiety spiral.  She’s the only one who has any real survival skills and continually works herself to the last drop, and then works herself a few drops more. When her big, horrible, deep, dark secret is revealed, her mental state continues to deteriorate.

What’s up with Venus? We haven’t seen her in a while?/Who’s the one-armed smokeshow?

Venus is Lou’s love interest, the girl she left behind in Hereafter. We haven’t seen her in a while because she, wisely, stayed there while Lou went off on her extremely inadvisable mission.

Venus of the Wastes is a dime-a-dance girl/saloon girl/sex worker who lives in Hereafter. She is Lou’s friend and Lou is both in love with her and her best client. Just before Lou left to deliver Holliday, she admitted to Venus that she was in love with her. Venus is, at least, very fond of Lou.

✨ Ok, but this is a lot! Where do I start??

If you’re looking to hop in on the story in progress, I’ve made summaries of part 1 , part 2 , and part 3 as we have gone on. I’ll update this with part 4 when we finish it. 

If you’re a completionist, the links above have epub & pdf files of the full text of each part. Here’s where part 4 begins, until we finish that part and I post it all together. You can find the rest of part 4 by scrolling backwards through the collection. I will also attach pdfs & epubs of all the full text to this post on my patreon!

If you’re a completionist completionist & you want it ALL, here’s everything and the chronological order in which they occur in-universe. Again, Pony Express is meant to be able to stand on its own two feet without any of the rest of this, but it might be fun for you to read the rest. The first three here are kind of a series, but Tears Can’t Put Out This Flame and Bloodied on Arrival could both be read independently. Care and Keeping probably needs those two to support it, unless you’re happy just jumping in and figuring stuff out via context. It’s Artie’s backstory, but it’s not necessary for you to read to make Pony Express make sense. It’ll just give you a little more dramatic irony etc. 

Tears Can’t Put Out This Flame  - a novella about Hero Sasaki, a novice acolyte at the Church of the Listening Lady (god of life & sorrow) who has been tasked with delivering a package to an anchorite from her church. Frances is a disgraced assassin from The Church of Johnny Knives (god of justice & death) who has been tasked with escorting her. Through trials of the road, emergency first aid, prayer, ritual (blood and otherwise), a little sex, and a lot of tears, they find love exactly where they should've expected it in the first place.

Bloodied on Arrival - a novel about Nuisance (and Hero), a road-weary assassin from The Church of Johnny Knives (god of justice & death) who finds herself and her new cat taking refuge at a companionship shrine run by a beautiful older widow, Hero, of the Church of the Listening Lady (god of life and sorrow). The two can't deny their immediate connection and aim for a rewarding one-night stand, but things don't go as planned.

Care and Keeping - a work in progress novel(?) about Hero and Nuisance and their new adopted feral child, Artie, a little girl who has known nothing but abuse, pain, and starvation who believes it’s her sacred mission to join Knife Church. Nuisance agrees to train her to join the church in a bid to keep her from it for as long as possible. This is a kind of coming-of-age story for Artie and a becoming parents story for Hero & Nuisance.

Pony Express - A work in progress novel about Lou (also featuring Artie) - see synopsis at beginning of post.

The novel/las are available for purchase on my Patreon for $5 or for pay-what-you-want $5+ on Gumroad. If you find you can’t afford that, but want to read it, please let me know! DM me wherever or email me at missluckycatknives (at) gmail (dot) com I’m happy to make my work accessible to you. All Pony Express and Care and Keeping are free as I work on them. 

[adore-laur]

CALIFORNIA DUSK

— birth of baby #2 in the dadrry universe 🌊

——

6:24 AM

California dawn brings serenity to the house. The sun is leisurely rising, painting the sky with wispy pink brushstrokes across an endless canvas of powder blue. Seagulls croon as they fly parallel to the hazy horizon, gracefully dipping their claws down in the water to catch their first meal of the day. Waves crash against the vacant ocean shore with persistence, as if to announce that morning has arrived once again.

Soon, golden rays will seep through the flowing curtains and cast shapes on the hardwood floors. The trees will start to sway from the coastal breeze, sending earthy scents of pine and cedar into the kitchen. Toys scattered in the living room from the night before will be left alone to wallow until their owner sleepily waddles from her bedroom with a yawn and an empty stomach.

A spoon clinks against the edge of a mug, echoing throughout the tranquil kitchen as chickadees sing their song near the window. Yet the current calmness of your surroundings doesn't quite match how you feel inside.

Being awake for the past two hours—hunched over the kitchen island and rocking side to side while breathing through painful cramping—isn't how you would've liked to commence your morning. Harry is brewing homemade coffee for himself since there's a high chance it will be a long, tiresome day ahead. He's been up with you since you started having contractions, and you tried to convince him to keep sleeping, but there was no way to persuade him since he's naturally an early riser. And you know he would never let you handle the discomfort alone.

Your daughter is still fast asleep in her room down the hall, oblivious to how soon she'll be a big sister. You're not looking to traumatize her at a young age, so Harry's mother is on her way to pick her up in case you give birth.

You've decided on a natural water birth this time. Being in the hospital for your first childbirth experience was tolerable, but the atmosphere gave you tremendous anxiety. The nurses hovering over you, the constant beeping of the machines, and the stale room all felt suffocating. You're confident you'll feel more at ease in the comfort of your own home, with only Harry and the midwife witnessing you in your most vulnerable state.

As the pain temporarily alleviates in your abdomen, you slowly straighten your posture and walk some laps around the living room. There's nothing you can do except hang tight and see if anything progresses. The contractions haven't gotten to the point of being unbearable, but they still beg the question of whether you'll be having a baby today. It's a waiting game.

Harry is surprisingly relaxed, and you suppose it's because this isn't his first rodeo. Seeing the difference in his composure compared to the first time you went into labor is humorous. He had clammy hands, was a stuttering mess, and also forgot to bring his driver's license when he drove you to the hospital.

Now, it's like he has never been more prepared for anything in his entire life. He could be hiding his nerves well, but otherwise, he's extremely put together as he whistles the "We Just Got a Letter" jingle from Blue's Clues that always gets stuck in his head because your daughter watches the show every morning. He's already dressed for the birth that might not even happen today—swim shorts for when he gets in the birthing pool with you and a faded graphic tee that looks like it has seen better days. His favorite blue baseball cap is snug on his head, covering his messy hair that curls upwards underneath. He looks casually gorgeous in the morning light.

After your tenth lap, you wander back to the kitchen and stand beside Harry as he drops two slices of bread into the toaster. He looks down at you and smiles.

"Hi," he says, leaning his hip against the counter. "Contraction over with?"

"For now," you reply dully. "I'm sure there'll be plenty more."

He jerks his chin toward the sink. "I want you to drink some water."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Please just drink one glass for me, baby," he says, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a jar of grape jam. "Let's not have a repeat of last time."

You roll your eyes and steal a cup from the drying rack. He clearly remembers when you vomited at the hospital just hours before giving birth. Yes, you were dehydrated, but that was the last thing on your mind.

As you sip cloudy tap water, you watch Harry silently spread jam onto his perfectly browned toast. He's been too quiet this morning—entirely cool, calm, and collected. You miss his delirious morning humor.

"You're scaring me."

Harry freezes with the butter knife in his grasp. "I didn't know your husband making breakfast was a fear of yours."

There it is!

"No, not that." You wipe off a glob of jam on his thumb. "You're just really relaxed right now."

Setting his toast on a plate, he turns to you with a crease between his eyebrows. "Should I be freaking out?"

"Well, I might give birth soon," you say, your heart rate increasing at the mere thought. "Doesn't that, I don't know, make you nervous?"

"Of course, I'm nervous," he replies, gently squeezing your shoulders. "I'm sure I'll be a hot mess once you're in full-on labor. I'm just enjoying the morning with you while you're still pregnant. You know... soaking it all in."

You release a shaky exhale, your mind spiraling as everything becomes more real the longer you talk about how you'll be a family of four very soon. "Okay," you whisper unconvincingly. "That makes sense."

Harry obviously doesn't buy it because he stares at you briefly before trapping your fidgeting hands with his own. "What's going on?"

"I'm freaking out," you admit weakly. Your voice wavers, and the lump in your throat is hard to swallow.

His face softens with sympathy as your eyes gloss over with tears. "Let's walk down to the shore," he suggests, kissing your forehead. "Just you and me before it gets crazy in here."

Sniffling, you ask, "What if I can't make it back to the house?"

"Then I'll carry you."

"Good luck with that," you mutter before grabbing your phone from the kitchen table. "Let's go while I have a break from contractions."

He nods, taking his plate and the baby monitor from the countertop, and then leads the way out the patio door.

During the short journey there, your heart blooms with fondness when you catch Harry smiling to himself as he walks, his tattooed arms swinging. It's too endearing not to keep as a permanent memory, so you open the camera on your phone and press record. The fresh air has rapidly lifted your mood, and you're thankful for it.

"What are you grinning about over there?"

Harry looks up and gives the camera a big, open-mouthed smile, pure excitement exuding from him. He's been waiting so patiently for another baby, and now it's slowly but surely becoming reality.

"What's got you so happy?" You laugh and stop recording.

He shrugs, still smiling contagiously. "I can't believe it's happening. It just hit me right now."

Both of you reach the sand and sit away from the lapping waves in case you have to head back to the house promptly. Harry places himself behind you, a position that's supposed to help when a contraction comes. You can hold onto his legs for leverage and support, and he can massage wherever you're hurting.

"I can't believe it either," you reply with a pensive shake of your head.

"Talk to me. How are you feeling?" Harry asks, taking a crunchy bite of toast. "Emotionally, I mean."

Talk to me. It's a three-word sentence he's been saying to you for years. He always wants to know how you're feeling whenever you bottle up your thoughts—anger, sorrow, or happiness. It has never changed, and it never fails to help immensely.

"I'm not as nervous as last time," you answer, closing your eyes when he starts playing with your hair. "I feel more prepared since I know what to expect, but it's terrifying that I'm doing it naturally this time."

He hums in acknowledgment. "That's completely valid. No one expects you to be one hundred percent confident when pushing a baby out, no matter how many times you've done it before. Just know that I'm eternally grateful that you've grown two beautiful babies for us. You're a superstar."

"Thanks. I just feel like—" You gasp suddenly, your hand quickly shooting to your side as another contraction hits.

"Okay," Harry says soothingly, grabbing your hand so you can squeeze his own. He quickly unlocks his phone to set a timer. "It's okay. Breathe with me."

You inhale and exhale through the internal pain, the tight cramping making you lean back against his chest. "Harry, it hurts," you cry as your other hand grips his knee. "Ow, ow, ow."

"I've got you. Just breathe through it." He lifts the hem of your oversized shirt and spreads his hand on your stomach. It's stretched beyond belief and has dropped significantly throughout the past week. "Focus on my breathing, all right? And relax your shoulders. They're too tense."

You breathe with him as he massages your lower back. Your face is getting hot and your throat is dry, but the only thing you can fully pinpoint is the penetrating pain.

"Tell me something. Please distract me."

Harry kisses your temple. "You look really pretty."

"Shut up," you mumble with a laugh that quickly turns into a groan of discomfort.

"I'm serious. I love how you look in the morning when the sun hits your face, like right now. It makes you glow even more than usual. And the way it brightens your eyes reminds me so much of our daughter." He turns your face so you're looking at him. "I see you in her all the time."

You smile weakly and rest your head on the dip between his neck and shoulder. "Yeah, but she has your bunny teeth."

His deep, comforting laugh vibrates against your back. "Mm, you'd be the one to notice that."

You just tiredly nod as the contraction subsides. You make a good guess that you're not close to labor yet because of how far apart and mild they've been so far. The midwife is only five minutes away, so there's no dire need for her to come and check on you.

"I think that one's done." You carefully sit up and release his hand. "How long was it?"

Harry checks his phone. "Forty-seven seconds."

"Short," you think aloud. "They've been irregular, so I think they might be Braxton Hicks."

He dramatically falls back onto the sand and spreads his arms out. "Does that mean no baby today?"

You snort and cuddle up next to him. "Soon. You have to be patient."

He's silent for a minute before asking, "Isn't sex supposed to induce labor?"

You scoff and swat at his chest. "I swear you asked me that last time."

"Oh, I definitely did. You rejected me and then literally didn't go into labor until a week later, remember? You should've listened to me."

"I don't think it would be enjoyable for either of us if we tried. I couldn't even walk down here without feeling like passing out."

Harry draws patterns on your belly with his finger, causing a response of fluttery kicks from the baby. "I know, I'm only joking. We don't have to be anywhere or do anything right now. Let's stay out here for a little bit, yeah?"

"Sounds like a plan," you mumble into his shoulder. The world around you drowns out like the shells under the waves as you focus on his heartbeat. The rhythmic thumping of your favorite part of him lulls you to sleep, his hand gently stroking your hair as time passes with each movement of the sun.

Your nerves wash away with each ocean tide, and you know everything will be all right.

——

7:03 PM 

The tub is ready.

You are not.

A shirtless Harry is already sitting in the circular birthing pool, looking like he's ready to deliver the baby himself. You've changed into your swimsuit and are now vaguely listening to what the midwife is telling you as you lean against the wall and suffer through another contraction—a particularly strong one that indicates you're going to start pushing soon.

Your water has already broken, and you're not quite sure why you're waiting until the very last second to get into the tub, but nothing in your mind is making sense due to the overwhelming pain. The bedroom is too small, the lights are too bright, the way Harry's dotingly looking at you is too much, and your body feels too weak even though it's about to perform the most vigorous exercise imaginable.

"We need you in the tub so I can check your dilation," says the midwife, snapping you out of your overthinking spiral.

"I-I can't," you reply helplessly. "I don't think I can do this. I don't want to do this."

You regret not just sucking it up and going to the hospital so they can inject you with an epidural.

"I am going to do everything I can to give you a safe and smooth delivery process," she assures you. "Your husband is waiting for you. He's going to be your support system the entire time, okay? Do you trust him to do that?"

You frantically nod your head—you've never trusted anyone more. "The water will help with the pain," she adds with a kind smile. "It will relax your muscles and make you feel very nice. Can you get in the tub for me? Harry will help you."

You look at him, seeing his slightly shaky hands beckon you closer. You swallow and take a deep breath before slowly approaching him. Equipment scatters the floor and the bed beside you—clean blankets, a tarp for the mess, towels, medical supplies, and a cup of ice.

Harry carefully helps you into the birthing tub, positioning you so your back is against his bare chest. Once you're situated in the lukewarm water, you focus on his heartbeat pounding double-time.

"I can't do this," you repeat as you slide your swimsuit bottoms off.

"Yes, you can," Harry says, kneading your shoulders. "It'll be so worth it. We'll have a baby boy or girl to hold tonight."

"I'm scared. What if something goes wrong? What if I can't handle the pain? What if I—"

"Hey," he scolds softly. "Please don't think like that. Remember last time? What did I tell you to do to distract yourself?"

"Count your tattoos."

"That's right. I've gotten quite a few more since then, so get to counting. Distract your mind from the pain. I'm not going anywhere."

You begin counting, starting with your name tattooed on his right thigh. You then grab his left arm and count all the small ones near his hand. The chrysanthemum on the inside of his wrist represents your daughter's birth flower, along with her date of birth written in cursive underneath. There's also the outline of a wave representing his home with you in California, where you built your life together. They all mean something near and dear to his heart.

The midwife brings you out of your trance when she leans over the pool and checks your dilation as Harry places comforting kisses on the back of your head. "You're about eight centimeters," she tells you after a few seconds of uncomfortable inspection.

"I feel like I need to push," you say timidly. "I feel the baby really low."

"We need to wait until you're ten centimeters," she replies. "If you can just hold out a little longer, it'll be much easier to push, okay?"

You nod and let out a long groan when the contraction moves from your lower back to your pelvis.

"Do you want your ice?" Harry asks.

"Yes, please."

He reaches behind him and grabs the cup filled with chipped ice. You begin chewing on a piece to cool your body temperature and force your brain to focus on something else.

Several minutes pass, with Harry whispering loving encouragements as the midwife talks you through what's about to happen. She allows you to exert tiny pushes while applying pressure to your abdomen. Everything goes in one ear and out the other, but you know the moment is almost here. There's no stopping now.

"Do you still feel like you need to push, honey?" the midwife asks, checking your dilation again.

"Yeah. Am I ten centimeters yet?"

"Just about. I'm going to have you push now."

You turn your head and stare at Harry with wide eyes. He messily captures your lips with his, then moves them near your ear. "I'm right behind you. Whatever you need, just let me know. If you need me to get out or scream at me—anything at all."

You look forward when the midwife parts your legs and encourages you to push using all of your strength.

The first push is the most agonizing. Your head throws itself back on Harry's shoulder as you grit your teeth and contract what feels like every muscle in your body. The midwife counts to ten, the seconds dragging on like minutes. Your face is scrunched up tight, and your legs are tense in the water. Harry softly counts in your ear, taking your left hand in his.

Breathe out for three. 

The second push feels like you're on fire, but not in a good way. The aching, cramping, and stinging pain shooting all over your body is borderline unbearable. It's felt externally, internally, and everywhere in between. You let a cry escape your mouth as the pain strikes your lower abdomen in full force. Harry kisses your ring finger and sets your hand on his heart.

Breathe out for three. 

The third push gets you the farthest. Your ringing ears distantly hear something along the lines of I can see the head, and you feel a sharp breath from Harry hitting your neck and a kiss behind your ear. When the midwife gets to number two, she pulls the head out. The burning sensation remains, but the most challenging part is out of the way.

Breathe out for three. 

The final push is when you give every ounce of energy you have left, squeezing both of Harry's hands so tightly that you're afraid you might break his bones. You're told to give your strongest and longest push, making your entire body rigid as you stop your breathing to make this the last one. Harry chants motivational words from behind you: They're almost here, you're doing so good, I love you. 

Then, all at once, there's release.

Relief.

Remission.

You quickly pull your baby up from under the water and cradle them against your heaving chest. You're shivering from the adrenaline, and your body feels bizarrely empty.

"It's a girl!" announces the midwife as she wipes and rubs her down with a towel.

The tears immediately fall. You hear Harry let out a quiet sob as he buries his face in your neck with trembling lips. With his forehead pressed to your skin, he sniffles while the sound of your baby girl's cries fills the room.

"Would Dad like to cut the cord?"

Harry nods and palms his tear-filled eyes. She passes tiny surgical scissors over to him and stretches the umbilical cord, showing him where to snip. He carefully moves out from behind you and releases an emotional breath as he opens the scissors, but he drops them in the tub because of his shaky hands.

"Sorry," he says with a choked laugh. He picks them up and tries again, successfully cutting the cord. The midwife cheers and begins setting things up for the after-birth process.

You cradle the back of your baby's head and cry with unspeakable happiness. "Hold her," you tell Harry now that she's detached.

He reaches his hands out, and you carefully pass her squirming body over to him. He seems almost lost in a trance for a second, but when her cries die down instantly once her skin meets his, he looks at you with the most breathtaking smile.

She clings to him like a lifeline, her cheek squished against his chest and her tiny hands spread on his collarbones. "Look," he whispers to you with watery eyes. "Look at her."

"I know. She loves you already."

His gaze is now focused on you, with an expression conveying so many emotions. You think he's never looked more beautiful.

"Thank you," he says.

Those two simple words are spoken with a heavy amount of sincerity. You know what they mean: Thank you for letting me be a father. Thank you for pushing through all the mental and physical changes again. Thank you for her. 

You smile and blink back more tears. "All in a day's work."

Harry shakes his head as his eyes dance over your face. "You're the strongest person I know. I've never seen anything more incredible than what you just did."

"Thank you for helping me through it."

"I always will," he says while stroking your baby girl's back with his large hand. It almost engulfs her entire body.

"Are you insinuating we're going to have more babies?"

"You know I'd have a million with you. You're fuckin' perfect."

You slap his arm lazily. "Don't swear."

He leans in until his forehead touches yours. "Give me a kiss."

"Your lips are dry."

He licks his lips, and you meet his mouth. He hums and grins into the kiss, pulling away from you with a glint in his eyes. "I love you so much," he murmurs before glancing at his daughter. "Both of you. My heart beats for my girls."

"I love you."

A tiny hand suddenly hits Harry's mouth. He sputters a laugh and grabs it, kissing it repeatedly until she lets out a gurgle. He laughs in disbelief and hikes her up to smell her head, the baby scent being one of his favorite parts about having a newborn.

"Already a daddy's girl," you slur tiredly, exhaustion finally catching up to you.

He puckers endless kisses onto her head. "Think I'll keep you forever, angel," he tells her. "Is that okay? Hmm? Gonna be my snuggle bug when I need it the most?"

Her eyes remain closed, and her lips smack as she lets out a silent cry. You look at Harry, and you find him absolutely mesmerized by her. Every small movement she makes, every change in facial expression, every noise that comes from her—he's watching it all with proud eyes and a permanent smile.

No other man would you want as your husband. No other man would you want to be the father of your babies.

——

8:40 PM

It's been a little over an hour since you gave birth, and since then, you've been moved to the bed after being cleaned up. You've just finished breastfeeding and now lie with her in your arms as you try to fall asleep next to Harry. He's still making calls to his loved ones to tell them the news, and each time he does, he gets emotional all over again when the person on the other line gasps or screams with joy.

He's wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, and part of his hair is held back with one of your daughter's pink butterfly clips. You're both running on empty but have never been more blissfully content as she sleeps, her body wrapped in a white swaddle and a baby beanie snug on her head.

The windows are open, letting the ocean breeze waft in and cool your body's dull ache. The midwife had been kind enough to bring you snacks, leaving ice water, a plate of crackers, and a bowl of strawberry yogurt for you on the nightstand. There was an instance when Harry asked for a spoonful of your yogurt, and when you fed it to him, some dropped onto your baby's cheek. You both broke into silent laughter until she got fussy from your movements. Or maybe it was from the cold dollop of yogurt on her sensitive skin. Either way, it was entertaining.

Now, you drift off beside him and feel the soft breaths of your baby girl on your breast as the linen curtains blow in time with the swelling waves meeting the shore.

"Are you awake?" Harry asks quietly after he ends another call.

"Barely," you whisper into his sleeve. It smells like heaven.

He kisses your temple and inhales deeply. "I just got off the phone with my boss. He says congratulations and to name her after him."

You release a laugh laced with drowsiness. "I don't think she'd appreciate being named after an ornery old man."

"True. That was the last call I needed to make, by the way." He scoots down the bed and gently nuzzles his head into your side. "Get some rest. I'll be quiet now."

"I don't want to miss anything," you say, even though your eyes have been involuntarily closing for the past ten minutes.

He lightly scratches up and down your arm. "She's sleeping, my love."

"I know, but what if she does something cute?"

"Then I'll wake you up."

"Promise?" Your eyes droop once again with overpowering fatigue.

"I promise." He seals it with a tender kiss on your shoulder. "You need—"

A knock on the bedroom door interrupts him and makes your head turn toward the sound. The knob jiggles for a few seconds before the door slowly opens with a creak to reveal your daughter standing there. She's holding her favorite blanket, her thumb tucked in her mouth. You assume Harry's mother must have just arrived and is letting her have some alone time with the both of you.

"Hi, lovebug," Harry says softly. "C'mere, we've got a surprise for you."

She cautiously shuffles over to the edge of the bed and inspects the sleeping bundle in your arms. "Did you have fun with Grandma today?" you ask her.

She nods distractedly, her eyes still glued to the baby. Harry smiles and picks her up, setting her on his lap. "That's your baby sister," he explains. "You're officially a big sister now."

She looks at him. "Where?"

He lets out a breathy chuckle and shifts her closer to the baby. "Right here, sweetheart. She's sleeping, so you have to be quiet."

"Oh," she whispers. You and Harry exchange smiles.

"Isn't she pretty?" you ask.

"Yeah." Her voice is still a whisper as she pokes the baby's fists. "So little."

"She is," Harry says with a sniffle. "You were once that little. You have no idea how perfectly you fit in my arms."

You kiss her cherubic cheek. "Do you want to hold her?"

She glimpses at Harry as if to ask for permission, and he nods his head in encouragement. He positions her between the two of you, and then you maneuver the baby into her arms while ensuring the head is supported.

The sight is something out of a dream. How attentive she is to her new baby sister, admiring her like a delicate flower, examining her closely like a beautiful specimen, gently touching her nose and puckered lips. She keeps looking at you and Harry when the baby wiggles or makes a noise, a look of pure innocence and curiosity that brings more heartfelt tears to your eyes.

You eventually peel your gaze away from her and find Harry staring at you. A tear falls from his bottom eyelashes, his nostrils flaring from residual emotions hitting him. Reaching over, you thumb away the teardrop and focus on the bay window. The sun has dived below the darkening horizon, allowing stars to faintly dot the sky. Cicadas buzz in nearby bushes, and the night tides of the ocean collide with the sand that will soon be illuminated by the moon.

It's quiet in the bedroom, with nothing but the sound of soft breathing and the occasional coo from the baby. Your family of three is now four, and you've never felt more full of love. The world around you is serene, just like it was during the sunrise before she came into the world.

California dusk has brought you an angel.

——

[bitingcurbs]

ways to express your nonhumanity without gear

good quality gear can be pricey (for good reason!) but that doesn’t mean you can’t express yourself in other ways. here’s what i have personally found to be helpful! add yours in the notes!

-clothing & accessories:

being a horse makes this somewhat easy as western wear and horse shirts are aplenty. beyond just “shirt with your theriotype on it” think about what makes you feel like your type. for me this is loose clothing, especially a boxy “potato sack” kind of dress. or in colder months, jackets with a fur/sherpa lining make me feel like im wearing an insulated saddle. again, easier cause im a horse but if im going somewhere fancy i get inspired by dressage horses and show ponies. accessories that make me feel horse like are: chunky jewelry, bangles, stuff that makes noise when i walk! also i had to get new headphones, so i got them in a grey and brown option that reminded me of horse tack.

i thrift pretty much everything and this has helped me find really unique pieces as well as cheaper stuff that i don’t feel bad modifying to be more horse like.

-hair:

my partner does both of our hair. we’re both nonhuman and try desperately to make our external forms match the internal form. for me this looks like cropping the sides of my hair, and sometimes putting it in a row of buns down the back. bangs have also been helpful. for him as a crocodile and canid, this looks like matching his hair to his coat color and a choppy/angular haircut.

-piercings/tattoos:

ive talked a little about this before on my blog, but truly piercings and tattoos have eased my species dysphoria so much. i haven’t got any with direct relation to my species yet, but they all help me recognize my skin is mine. in the future i’d like to get a large gauge labret and stretch it, as the oral feeling would remind me of a horse bit. i’d also like to get a coinslot in one of my ears to hang an identification tag in. specific kinds of stretched ear jewelry make me feel horselike too, like (obviously) ear saddles. i also plan on getting a horse tattoo or two, and some horse shoe tattoos on my feet. body mods are expensive but last forever.

-body language & movements:

research into equine behavior has helped me notice what i already do that’s horse like and figure out what i can add. i struggle with speech sometimes so this has been helpful in boosting my range of nonverbal communication. i also watch gait videos and practice them. practicing how your type navigates its environment does not have to be through quads! i don’t do quads because it feels less like how a horse would move. biking helps! something about the way my knees pedal a bike feels equine.

-visit a hearthome:

go camping, see the desert, star gaze. what makes you feel at home? for me these places are: stock shows, rodeos, horse races, antique malls, rocky terrain, and feed stores. sometimes farms give tours to the public. ones not related to being a horse include: dawn/dusk, ice/ocean (this one has only been affirmed by going to an exhibit about orcas), and for some reason the electronics section at a thrift store. if you wouldn’t be able to visit a hearthome for whatever reason, message me and let’s figure something creative out!

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

Runnin' home to you

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

Summary: After months of trying, it's time to tell your wife that you're pregnant

Disclaimer: English is not my first language! Also, this was requested by one of you guys. Thanks for the request!

MASTERLIST

“Do you think this will work out?” You asked after taking a step back to appreciate the hard work you put into making the small gift box look nice. You had spent way more time than you would ever admit making sure things were organized inside and then spent even more time trying to make the bow look nice outside, but it was done now.

“There's really not a huge secret behind it,” your friend replied with a hint of humor, which prevented you from getting mad at the teasing. Instead, you looked at Scarlett with your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly not appeased by her words. “It's a box. All she has to do is open it.”

Now you rolled your eyes and shoved her playfully. “You know what I mean.”

The Hollywood actress laughed and pulled you in for a side hug while also pushing the box away from you before you could restart the entire thing again. “Relax. Everything will play out perfectly.”

Scarlett sounded confident enough, which helped to calm you down as well. You couldn’t keep fussing over the gift or you would never keep up with your plan at all. “Thank you for helping me out,” you said after hugging her back.

“Not my first rodeo, honey,” she reminded you kindly and then smiled when she remembered her two kids waiting for her at home. Now seeing you were less nervous, Scarlett walked around the table where you had dragged her to help you out with your surprise so you would be facing each other. “Do you know when her plane will land?”

She was talking about your wife, of course, and you didn’t need her to specify it. You had, after all, begged for her help while screaming on the phone that Elizabeth would be back from her trip later that day and you didn’t have time to get anything ready. Scarlett had promptly calmed you down and helped you decide to keep things simple, reassuring you it would all work out perfectly in the end and that Elizabeth would love the surprise.

The surprise being the pregnancy test hidden inside the box now.

You and Elizabeth have been trying to have a baby for a little over six months now. After being married for three years and together for eight in total, you felt like it was the right time to extend your family. Since Elizabeth still had projects coming up, you both decided you would be the one getting pregnant. Elizabeth also never actually wanted to get pregnant, while part of you had always dreamed about that moment, so it wasn’t a hard choice.

Elizabeth had only left your side in the last six months when she absolutely had no other option. She only traveled when she couldn’t avoid it, she always tried to give her interviews from home, and she even begged Marvel to allow her to shoot from another location so she wouldn’t have to be all the way across the ocean from you. That’s why she made sure she was there with you every step of the way. Elizabeth held your hand when you needed to take the medication, she was there to take care of you during the mood swings, she spoiled you by cooking anything you wanted to eat, and, overall, she went above and beyond to make sure you were happy and safe.

When the time came for your IVF, Elizabeth was there to assure you everything would be fine regardless of the result. She held you and surprised you with some flowers, then she helped you lie down in bed to rest and made sure you wouldn’t have to take care of anything else for the next few days. This little trip of hers had put a damper on her plans to not leave your side until you both got the results of the exam you would do two weeks after the procedure. It was a last-minute thing, something she couldn’t say ‘no’ to even if she tried, and it pained her to leave you, that’s why you assured her it would be okay if she left for a couple of days. Elizabeth was worried that she would be back on the same day you were supposed to make the blood exam at the lab, but you reassured her by saying the result wouldn’t be back until the next day, when she would surely be home already.

A little lie, you would have to admit, but you wanted to surprise your wife with the news.

Of course, it could be a negative and you would go through the sadness of seeing this result alone, but something inside you told you it wouldn’t be a negative. You just knew you were pregnant. You didn’t know if it had been the small changes in your body in the last few days, but you weren’t even surprised when you opened the result and saw you were right. You were pregnant.

Not surprised, but certainly happy beyond words. You couldn’t describe the feeling that washed over your body after realizing there was a small human inside you, a human that was yours and Elizabeth’s baby, someone you would love and care for since the day you died. It was unbelievable, but so extraordinary.

You ended up calling Scarlett just right after that because she was one of the few people who knew you two were trying to have kids. She had become a good friend of Elizabeth through the years and, after you got less starstruck, yours as well. You also thought she was the best choice to help you out because she had been pregnant before and would know the sudden urge you had to surprise Elizabeth about it.

Or surprise her as much as you could since it obviously had been a planned pregnancy. Perks of being gay and all.

Remembering Scarlett had asked you a question, you glanced at your phone to see what time it was. “It already did. She texted me to let me know she was on her way.”

“Well, that’s my cue to go then,” the other woman declared before she started to pick up her stuff. “Call me if you need anything else.”

You smiled widely when you pulled her for another hug, feeling even more grateful than before for her help. “Will do. Thank you, Scarlett.”

“Don't mention it.”

Scarlett left while yelling for you to tell her everything later on and you were still in the living room making sure there was nothing out of place when you heard the keys on the door. You just knew Elizabeth was back and your heart started beating faster immediately.

“Honey, I'm home!” Elizabeth yelled playfully while she entered and you couldn’t help but chuckle at her little habit of saying those words every time.

You wasted no time to rush to her and pull her in for a hug, not even carrying when her bags fell to the floor so she could wrap her arms around you as well. “Oh, I missed you so much,” you mumbled against her neck.

“I've been gone for a week, my love,” she replied lightly, although she was holding you as tightly as she could.

“A week too long,” you commented and pulled away with a soft smile as you held her face between your hands. “How was your flight?”

“The usual.” Elizabeth shrugged and then she leaned over to kiss you. She pulled away too quickly, though, to whisper lovingly: “I also missed you, very much.”

You couldn’t have it. You pressed a hand on her neck and locked your lips again, this time in a more passionate kiss that made your legs wobble a little. “Hm,” you moaned when you parted, licking your lips and letting your eyes remain closed for a few more seconds, “you better.”

Elizabeth chuckled and kissed your forehead. “How are you feeling?”

You knew what she was asking about so you decided to take a step back to show her the small band-aid the nurse had put in your arm earlier that day. You were a bit afraid of needles, but you handled it just fine. “I'm good. Really good,” you added happily. “Just have a band-aid for the dramatic effect,” you admitted with a wink.

“And I’m the actress one.” She rolled her eyes but not before kissing you again.

“Go take your shower, babe,” you prompted with a gentle slap on her bum. “I will put your dirty clothes in the washing machine.”

“I can do that later and you can join me in the shower,” Elizabeth suggested though.

And even if you knew she was only doing that because she didn’t want you to make any physical effort, the idea was too tempting to let it slide. “Hm, I like the way you think,” you whispered with a smile before following her upstairs.

You took a not so quick shower together and, after that, Elizabeth said she would cook you guys dinner. You tagged along, of course, because that was one of your favorite activities - to watch Elizabeth cooking and to help her with the small tasks.

“Can you hand me the pepper, my love?” She asked and you quickly grabbed the grinder to hand it to her. “Thank you.”

You watched as her arms moved while she ground the pepper directly on top of the pan, which also made you notice the amount of food she was cooking. Elizabeth loved to cook no matter the occasion, but she wasn’t free of the stress-cooking every once in a while. Every now and then you would end up with enough pies to feed a small army, or enough soup to feed all of your friends and family. Thankfully, things hadn’t got so out of hand that night, but you knew you would have leftovers for at least three days now.

“Are you anxious?” You decided to ask once she put the grinder away.

“A lot,” Elizabeth admitted quickly with a low chuckle. “You?” She looked over her shoulder at you, so you simply nodded, which made her nod as well before returning her attention to the pan. “Can't believe we need to wait an entire day.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying too much and decided to change the focus of the conversation before you ruined the surprise. “Have you decided if we're going to tell our families right away or wait for a while?”

“I think we should wait until we make sure everything is fine,” she replied calmly. “Realistic though… I'm too anxious to hold it back for too long.”

You both laughed since you knew it was true. Both of you were too anxious to keep it inside for too long. Besides, it would do no harm to tell your family about it. “That's fair,” you agreed.

“We're still keeping it away from the media, right?”

That one was easier to agree with. “For as long as you want.”

“Can it be forever?” Elizabeth made a face because you knew it was impossible for it to happen.

You were sure you could dodge the bullets while you were pregnant - you could refrain from leaving the house for a while - but there was no chance you could keep the media from seeing your kid once you start taking them outside. That was the bad part about her profession, but something you had learned to live with.

Trying not to let the good mood vanish, your answer was filled with humor. “Yes, of course. We're going to raise them in a bubble, so it's fine.”

Elizabeth laughed again. “We should move to Switzerland,” she suggested suddenly, but you merely rolled your eyes. That was a conversation you had before and you knew it wasn’t something she was going to drop the subject so soon. “What? They can't show people under sixteen in the media.”

“It would be hard to keep your garden in the cold weather,” you reminded her quickly.

Elizabeth shrugged. “Oh, well, small sacrifices.”

You scoffed and walked past her to get to the fridge, pausing briefly to poke her ribs. She yelped and moved away, but not without throwing you a smile afterward. You also smiled before looking inside the fridge. “Do you want to drink some wine?”

“No, thanks.”

“Are you sure?” You poked your head from behind the door and looked at her. “You're not going to be allowed to drink after we see the result. If I can't drink for a year, neither can you,” you warned her, pointing a finger at Elizabeth to add more effect to your words.

“I'm sure.” She nodded.

Even so, you leaned down to grab the bottle to show it to her. “It's a good wine.”

“I will give it to someone else if it's positive,” she shrugged one more time and moved to add something else to the pan. Once again, you had to hold yourself not to say the result too early.

“Okay. I’m going to drink some water, do you want some?”

“Do we have sparkling water?” Elizabeth wondered.

“Sure do.”

A few minutes later, you and Elizabeth were sitting at the small dining table across from each other, eating her delicious food and drinking your water.

“This tastes delicious,” you complimented her with a moan after putting the food inside your mouth.

Elizabeth giggled. “I don't know if I should be offended that you still find it surprising even after all this time.”

“I'm not surprised,’ you argued. “I'm enamored. My mom always said I should marry someone that could either cook or change the tires. You were the one that didn’t make a good choice.”

“I don't know,” she replied as one of her hands found yours on top of the table. “I think I made the best choice.” And, just like that, it was like your heart had grown twice its size inside your chest. However, just a second later, Elizabeth added in a teasing manner: “Besides, we have insurance.”

You laughed happily and you finished eating while making small talk. Once you were both done, you realized it was time to bring out the surprise and give her the good news. You told her you would get dessert and to wait there, and then you disappeared into the kitchen to grab what you needed. You had to take a small break to let a few tears drop and to dry them after that, but you managed to get the small box and the cake Scarlett had bought on her way to your house.

You returned to the table with both of them in hand, but you put them on top of it in a way that would hide the smaller box behind the other. After you did that, you stood beside her while bitting your bottom lip and trying to keep your tears inside one more time, which of course tipped her that something was off.

“What is it?” She sounded confused but also worried, a second away from getting up and wrapping her arms around you, so you quickly waved a hand and pointed at the cake.

“Just open it.”

Even more confused than before, it took Elizabeth a few seconds to do that, although she kept an eye on you to make sure everything was okay. She slowly opened the box and her frown deepened as the cake was being revealed. It was her favorite cake and right there, written on the frosting, were the words “Coming up late summer 2024”.

“What?” She mumbled to herself, but you didn’t give her enough time to ask you.

You quickly reached over the box to grab the gift and gave it to her. At that point, there was no hope for you to keep yourself from crying, so you just accepted your fate as tears streamed down your face. You sniffed and let out a nervous chuckle before pointing at the bow, quietly asking Elizabeth to get going with it.

Surprisingly, she did open it fast, almost as if she was starting to understand what was going on. Inside the small box was the printed result of the exam you did earlier that day, along with a pacifier and a red baby bodysuit with the Scarlet Witch’s symbol on it - something you had bought the same week you and Elizabeth decided to have a baby. It took her very long seconds to react. You just kept watching her, the way she seemed frozen while staring at the things inside the box, but, eventually, she moved a shaking hand to pick up the piece of paper.

Elizabeth read it - and you were sure she did it twice - and then her fingers brushed against the little clothing and the pacifier. When she finally turned to look at you, her green eyes were shining with tears and you could see a million emotions flashing through them at the same time.

“Really?” Her voice was just above a whisper and even the small word cracked when the feelings got the best of her, but you didn’t mind.

“Really,” you whispered back.

A second later, you were engulfed in Elizabeth’s arms while you both cried like small kids, too happy and positively overwhelmed to say anything for a while. Elizabeth held you like you were the most important person in the world - or as if there was no world at all, like you were all that existed. After a while, her legs seemed to give out and she kneeled in front of you, already grabbing your waist to keep you close.

“I promise you, I will always be here for the both of you,” she whispered against your belly. “I promise you this. I’m always going to be here. I’m always going to do my best to see you healthy, safe and loved. You will always come first, you both will. I promise.”

You couldn’t help but cry even harder after hearing her words. You ran your hand through her hair in an attempt to let her know how much you appreciated it, but it wasn’t enough and you soon found yourself kneeling in front of her too. You held her face and pulled her in for a kiss that tried to convey everything you both were feeling at that moment.

You never loved Elizabeth more than you did in that moment - you would think the same thing the first time you sees her holding your daughter in her arms, but that wouldn’t happen many months later.

[pluckyredhead]

The Lost Titans in Canon: Jason and Eddie

Because I am very normal and VERY excited to finally start posting The Lost Titans on Monday (mark your calendars!), I'm also going to start doing some in-depth posts on the canon relationships between these characters. Some have a lot of history, some have only met in passing, and some (Koryak) have never been allowed to hang out with anyone outside of the ocean.

We're starting with Jason and Eddie, whose relationship is referenced in exactly two (2) comics, but it has me in a chokehold anyway.

The first of these is Blue Devil #19, where we learn that Jason and Eddie are pen pals:

THESE BABIES. I AM DYING.

(In case you can't read the cursive, Eddie's letter says "That jewel thief had been hitting the posh Rodeo Drive shops like clockwork - one every Saturday! So when I learned Miggles' was displaying the Star of Pakistan, it was an easy guess where he'd show up next!" and Jason's says "Dear Kid Devil, Thank you for writing to me! I think being pen pals is a swell idea and I'm looking forward to reading all about your adventures! But to start with, let me tell you about a case I'm working on right now...!")

It does sort of make sense that Jason and Eddie would have been teamed up, because they were pretty much the only kids in the DCU at this point - it was 1985, and the Titans were all around 18, while Jason and Eddie were like...12 or 13, maybe? And I genuinely can't think of any other kid characters from around that time.

Anyway, it is a very short story - only four pages - but it ends with the boys realizing they fought the same bad guy and teaming up to catch him:

I love how much shorter Eddie is than Jason. What a little nugget.

The only other reference to this friendship comes literally 22 years later, in Teen Titans #42, after Eddie gets his powers. While running over his origin, he drops this:

THAT'S RIGHT, EDDIE BLOOMBERG IS RIDE OR DIE AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT. Fun fact: Jason had actually come back from the dead two years before. It's unclear if Eddie knows that, because he uses the word "was" here - Jason did attack Tim in Titans Tower in #29, but that was before Eddie joined the team, so who knows?

Anyway, that's the Jason and Eddie friendship in canon! Now I am going to go back to writing letters to DC begging them to let these two team up again.

[lemmetreatya]

tour guide!gojo who’s eyes kept wantonly falling onto you throughout the whole tour.

no matter where you stood or how far back into the crowd you hid, those ocean blues always found you. not like you were any better; you hadn’t heard a lick of anything he or his colleague said throughout the exhibition— all you could fantasise was about how confined tour guide!gojo’s cock must feel in his work trousers.

how tour guide!gojo found you during the intermission, body freakishly close to yours and smile intoxicating as he asks you where you’re from, and when you tell him, how he’s “never fucked a tourist as pretty as you from that side of the world”.

you told yourself you were going to behave on this trip, but your resolution is out the window once tour guide!gojo’s hips are ricocheting rapid slaps against your ass, the sound of backshots and gagged moans echoing the small cubicles room as tour guide!gojo rams his length into you. as you’re flat against the bathroom door, you hear other customers come in but then soon abashedly leave once they realise what’s going on.

tour guide!gojo doesn’t even feign embarrassment as he waltz out the bathroom with you abashedly in tow— his confidence evidently spiked.

he continues his day and job as if nothing had happened. clearly, this wasn’t his first rodeo.