#Ocean rodeo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunsetchicane · 5 months ago

Note

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.

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schnuckiputz · 2 years ago

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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.

#look i do not believe that hawkins is the only place with department of energy fuckery #they took so many samples of the upside down #of course they would try to reserve engineer some eldritch monstrosities for cold war purposes #stranger things #stranger things hc #stranger things headcanons #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson

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theroyalbard · 1 month ago

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Update on Gabe, My common tropic Seraphim.

I looked it up on Google and I think he’s a common tropic species however, he also fit the description of a few desert species but given I live in the middle of the Pacific Ocean I’m leaning twords the former.

I still have no clue if I’m feeding him correctly. He seems to be content with wine and sugar water but I get the feeling I need to be feeding him solid foods.

He’s stopped chirping but keeps singing the same 4 notes over and over again and has taken to nesting in the Christmas tree, ripping out branches to make a nest at the top.

My clown Miss Ranger Ripper (a Rodeo Scare clown mix) has taken to treating it like an audience member and has been trying to entertain it while preforming various card and laso tricks.

I will update if anything changes with the angel.

#angel husbandry #clown husbandry #husbandry #biblically accurate angel #biblically accurate angel care #christmas #christianity #jesus christ #weirdcore #surealism

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sinning-23 · 1 year ago

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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

#x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji live action #sanji x reader #one piece #one piece live action #opla x reader #one piece x reader #i don't care he's hot #this is my current obsession so bear with me

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horsebark · 3 months ago

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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!

#sorry a lot of this is personal examples #nonhuman #alterhuman #nonhuman community #alterhuman community #therian #therian community

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sstan-hoe · 2 years ago

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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!!

𝐌𝐀��𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

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

#steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x y/n #my golden boy 💫#steve rogers au #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers fic

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cherryblossomcowgirl · 4 months ago

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Hangman’s First Rodeo

MASTERLIST PINNED

Warnings: NONE

WC: 2.1k

I put my car in park and let out a long sigh. After a quick check in the rear view mirror, I wonder if I made the right decision wearing no makeup and letting my hair be wild and free. Bradley heard from someone in administration that I got asked to arrive earlier than expected to the North Shore, so he extended an invite to the Hard Deck. When he texted me, I immediately felt bad seeing how often he had reached out just to be left on read. It was nothing personal, he has been one of my closest friends for a decade, I just needed space. I finally decided it was time to stop stewing in my thoughts and take the key out of the ignition.

The bar is crowded with patrons in khakis. Loud music and chatter fill the room. I scan the room and find Bradley, he motions me over to the back of the bar where there are pool tables and dart boards. He immediately wraps me in a hug, “Rodeo! It’s been too damn long.” I smile up at him, “I know Rooster, I know.” He starts pointing out people in the group and listing names, “This is Bob, that’s Phoenix, Coyote is over there, there’s Yale, and where is .. oh there.. that’s Bagman.” The blonde turns around with a smirk, “It’s Hangman, Bradshaw. And who is this?” Bradley stiffens, “This is Rodeo.” The blonde looks me up and down with the same little smirk, then turns back to his game of darts. I stand near the pool table and watch as Bradley starts a game with Phoenix. Since I regularly work with aviators, making small talk was easy. Once the blonde wins the game of darts, he walks over and stands beside me. He smells like jet fuel and sandalwood. I look at his arms, toned and tan. I tell myself to calm down. I am here for work, nothing else. “Bradshaw here didn’t get you a drink?” I turn to him, “I am fine, but thanks.” His eyes narrow slightly and he smiles, “I am not hitting on you, darling. But I am about to go get another beer from Miss Penny up there.” I chuckle and stare right back into his bright green eyes, “Well I am happy we cleared that up, darling. You aren’t my type and I don’t drink.” I do a very large and obviously fake smile. Hangman furrows his brow and walks away, looking flustered. Bradley walks over and is giggling uncontrollably, “What did you do to Bagman?” I shrug, “I just told him he wasn’t my type and that I don’t drink.” Bradley put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side, “Man, I missed you. He annoys the shit out of all of us and somehow you put him in his place within 30 minutes of meeting him.” The rest of the group laughs and chimes in, agreeing with Bradley.

The night continues on with countless games of pool and darts. We all end up outside, some sitting in the sand and some with their feet in the water. Bradley plops down next to me and bumps me with his shoulder, “Dude, I missed you. You gonna tell me why they moved you here?” I stare at the waves crashing on the sand, “You too, Roo. I am not even completely sure. Thought you had something to do with it because it was Mav who called me.” Rooster raised his brows, “He didn’t say anything to me.” I shrug again, staring at the group of aviators standing by the ocean. Bradley can see the concern on my face and pats my back, “Hey, don’t worry. They’re good. Well, except Bagman.” He chuckles and I hear a familiar voice shout, “Senior Chief Rodeo? Now why is Rooster keeping you all to himself?” I turn and see Maverick walking down from the Hard Deck, smiling big as can be. “Mav!” I run and give him a big squeeze. What I didn’t notice was the group walking back from the water, or that they heard him yell to me. As they reach Bradley, Pheonix asks, “Senior Chief Petty Officer? How the hell old is she?” Rooster faces her, “She is not old. She just works her ass off.” I walk back to the group with Mav, wondering why they are all looking at me. Hangman breaks the silence, “So Senior Chief Rodeo, can you clue me in on your skincare routine? I coulda sworn you were the same age as all of us.” I roll my eyes, “Y’all’s age? No way. I’m 28, what are you .. 40?” I take a moment to watch their eyes bug out, and then start walking back inside with Mav and Bradley. Bradley slaps my back, “You haven’t changed a bit. Still an absolute asshole. Love it.” We pay our tabs and head back to get some sleep. I lay in bed, staring at the blank walls of my little bungalow, wondering what the morning will bring.

Once I jumped out of my truck on base, I could feel eyes on me. The group from last night were all chatting by the hangar, in their flight suits and aviators. I was in civies and a Longhorn baseball cap. Bradley parked beside me and jumps out, “You are so damn lucky. I swear y’all are never in uniform.” I chuckle, “I know, but hey y’all don’t look too bad in your onesies.” He sighs and throws his bag over his shoulder, “10 bucks they shit themselves when Mav tells them your job.” I put my hand out to shake on it, “Deal. It’s nothing special. I am pretty curious to know why I am here anyways.”

The aviators are all seated when Mav and I walk into the hangar. Mav claps his hands, “Okay ladies and gents, I’d like to introduce you to my friend. This is Senior Chief Petty Officer y/l/n, callsign Rodeo.” There’s a few “Good morning”s and “Hello”s in response. I wave. Mav continues, “As you know, we have had quite a few missions recently with the SEAL teams. As you also know, we have some areas where we need to green up when it comes to working with the SEALs. So, Coronado was nice enough to lend us Rodeo for a bit. As we go through this training session, she will be your point of reference.” I scan the room and shake my head at the shocked look on everyone’s face. Hangman clears his throat and smirks, “So .. she is some kind of liaison? Works with the SEAL teams?” Mav narrows his eyes, “No, she IS a SEAL and she will be helping us learn how to work better with them.” I meet Bradley’s eyes and pull out a $10 bill. Walking over to his seat, I set it on the table in front of him. I turn back around, “C’mon y’all. I am just a female SEAL, I don’t have three heads or snakes for hair.” There is scattered laughter and Mav clears his throat, “Okay people, get to work. Rodeo will be in the hangar or my office if you need her.” The pilots disperse and I follow Mav to start looking over training procedures and past mission optics.

The first couple of weeks were exhausting. Work was extremely busy and when I was home, I was unpacking. The bungalow was coming together nicely. It is right by the beach, so I can take daily strolls down by the water. I open up another box and my phone dings.

Bradley: Y/N! No excuses. Bonfire. My house.

Less than ten seconds later it dings again.

Bradley: I am serious. You can literally walk here. No excuses.

I sigh and write back.

Y/N: Okay, but only for a bit. I still have a lot of shit to build.

I walk into my bedroom and do a once over in the mirror. Jean shorts, white tank top, and a baseball cap. I grab a hoodie just in case and head down the street.

I hear music playing and smell smoke as I get close to Bradley’s house. I open up the back gate to the whole squad in the backyard. Hangman smirks, “Well howdy Rodeo. Fancy seeing you here.” Bradley runs up and wraps you in a hug, “You actually came! What do you need help building?” The squad all starts chiming in before you can respond. “Oh I can help!” “Where do you live?” “Did you walk here?” I wait for the chatter to die down, “I’m right up the street. Only have a few of the bigger things left. Bookcase, bed frame, that kinda stuff.” Bradley throws his arm around your shoulders, “I’ll come over tomorrow and get it all built.” I look up at him, “No! It’s the weekend! You should relax. I’ll get it all done eventually.” The rest of them start offering to come help and before you know it, everyone is planning on coming to your house. The house that is littered with boxes. I cringe and think about all of the tidying I need to do before they arrive. I head inside and grab a coke from Bradley’s fridge. The floor creaks and I whip around to see Hangman. “Sorry darling, didn’t mean to scare ya.” “What do you want, Hangman?” “Well I was just thinking that maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Thought maybe we could start over.” You laughed, “And what had you thinking that?” He shrugged, “I was a total jerk. You can ask around, I am THE unit asshole. But I honestly didn’t mean to be disrespectful. Wasn’t raised that way.” You look up at him, “How were you raised?” He smiles real wide, “In Texas. Yes sir and yes ma’am. Two sisters that dragged me around and told me what to do. You from Texas? Or just a Longhorn fan?” He asks while motioning towards your baseball cap. “From Texas. No college for me, though. Enlisted, boot camp, prep, BUDs. Nothing too exciting.” Hangman chuckled and shook his head, “Yeah, totally, nothing too exciting at all. How long have you been in?” “10 years. How about you?” “Got in right after college, 16 years ago. Remember? I am old.” He winks and I feel heat in my cheeks. He steps a little bit closer, “So are you and Bradshaw.. you know?” I laugh so hard that I snort. The back door opens up and Bradley looks between us, raising his brow. I finally stop laughing, “No. We met at my first duty station. He is the annoying older brother I never asked for.” Bradley rolls his eyes, “Hangman, leave Rodeo alone.” I walk towards Bradley and playfully nudge him with my elbow, “It’s fine. We are just getting to know each other.” Bradley shakes his head, “I know. That’s exactly what I am worried about.” I laugh and follow Bradley back to the bonfire. Hangman comes out a few minutes later and I say my goodbyes to the group. I am met with groans and “No please stay”s. Hangman clears his throat, “Let me walk you back, it’s getting pretty late.” Pheonix whispers something to Bob and they both crack up. Bradley turns, “Bagman, I think she will be just fine.” I nod my head, “Yeah I think I can handle myself, but thank you.” Hangman shakes his head and stands up, “Darling we already talked about this, I am a southern man. Can’t let you walk back all by yourself. Even though you are a big, bad SEAL.” He smiles and opens the gate, motioning for me to walk ahead. Bradley is noticeably angry and I smile at him, “It’s okay, I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

Hangman follows me until we reach the front porch. He scans the little bungalow, “Cute place. I’ll see you tomorrow .. wait I just realized I only know your callsign.” I chuckle, “Same. Unless your mother named you Hangman.” He laughs and puts out his hand, “Jake Seresin.” I shake his hand, “Y/n Y/l/n.” I grab my keys and unlock the front door, “Well, thank you for walking me back Jake. See you tomorrow?” He smiles so wide you can see every one of his perfectly straight teeth, “Yes ma’am. You sure will.” He turns and starts back up the street. I walk inside and shut the door, leaning my head against it for a second. I shake my head in attempts to get rid of the thoughts of him. His smell. His annoyingly perfect smile. I text Bradley to let him know I got back safe and head to bed.

#jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #glen powell x reader #hangman x reader #top gun #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #jake hangman fic #hangman fic #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #hangman fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun maverick fics

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harrywavycurly · 6 months ago

Note

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.

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