#at first I was like oh it’s probably because she was raised around a lot of white people so that’s what she knows

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 11)

A/N: oh my god guys I finally wrote the next part! Please like it lol. I did see this as the end of the story but I purposely kept it open so if I ever did want to write more I could

Special shoutout to @lunargrrrl because without you saying that you loved this story I probably wouldn't have even touched it for at least another month (I love your writing so much I would do anything for you)

Word count:

Warnings: oral sex, scissoring, little bit of angst?

Taglist: 3440

@stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi@ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet@polaris-likethestar@ahintofchaos @dorabledewdroop @toomanylesbiancouples @accidentally-made-a-sideblog @chiar4anna @lonelyhalfwitch @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna (sorry if I forgot you or if I put you twice, I just copied and pasted the taglist from the part 10 and then whoever said they wanted to be on it recently)

“Hey!” You call after your step-mom as she struts through the parking lot back to her car, never breaking a stride, leaving you to chase after. “Agatha, wait!” 

She doesn’t even turn around, just unlocks the door and slides in, and she’s turning on the car when you finally make it into the passenger seat. 

You’re a little out of breath, so you take a moment to compose yourself. Agatha is staring forward, hands gripped on the steering wheel. “What was that?” You’re finally able to ask. 

Her knuckles turn white but she doesn’t answer. She shifts into drive and pulls forward and you can see how tightly her jaw is clenched. 

“Agatha, will you please talk to me?” You’re begging at this point, you don’t know what else to do, because something is wrong. That wasn’t her plan. 

Although, neither was fucking you in the bathroom. 

Your body betrays you and the concern you’re supposed to be feeling right now and heats up at the memory. You can still feel her thrusting inside you, your hips hitting the cold sink top, her hand wound in your hair making you watch yourself get absolutely railed by her. 

Stop. 

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, to get your mind out of the gutter, and Agatha finally pulls into the driveway of her house. 

It’s a good sign she didn’t take you back to your mom’s house, you suppose. She slams the car door after she gets out and storms into the house, you following hot on her heels. 

Agatha goes right to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of wine. She takes a long sip and a deep inhale, and pinches the bridge of her nose. When she opens her eyes, she finally looks at you like she’s seeing you for the first time. 

“I’m sorry I did that with you there,” she says and you almost laugh. Is that what she was upset about? 

You shake your head and steal the glass from her, taking a gulp and wincing at the bitter taste. Agatha raises an eyebrow at your blatant underage drinking in front of her, but says nothing. You swallow the wine hard and make a face. “Don’t be. It was kind of hot,” you admit, and she chuckles humorlessly. And then a thought dawns on you. “Wait, do you think he’s going to think something happened in the bathroom? Cause we both went, and then you came out and said you wanted a divorce.” 

There’s a glint in Agatha’s eye. “You really think he’s going to assume that I fucked my stepdaughter against the sink in a restaurant bathroom and then decided to break things off?” 

“Well…” You trail off, the leap to that conclusion seeming a bit implausible, especially for him. Your dad has a hard time focusing on things that aren’t himself. “Seems like we’re in the clear, at least.” 

Agatha snorts and drains the rest of the wine. There’s still something off about her, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice softening. “I mean, are we okay? I know we said earlier that we didn’t know what this would mean for us –” 

She cuts you off by slamming the glass down on the countertop so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t break and then closes her eyes to take a deep breath. You freeze. “I’m sorry,” Agatha says eventually, but it’s unclear if she’s apologizing for the reaction or for something else. Maybe for the whole thing between you? 

There’s an uneasy feeling that starts to grow in your stomach. Is she going to break things off with you too? 

Not that there’s anything to break off, is there? It hasn’t even been that long since this thing started, but it’s been intense. More intense than anything you’ve ever felt. 

You know that it might kill you if she walks away now. 

“Do you not want this?” Your question is like a stab to your gut, you’ve never sounded smaller in your life, and your heart pounds heavily in your chest while you wait for an answer. You need to know.

Agatha’s hands fidget on the counter, it looks like she wants to pour herself another glass of wine, but she refrains. “We can talk about what happens next later,” she says levelly and walks away without another word. 

The pit in your stomach only grows. How did you go from being fucked by Agatha’s strap not even an hour ago to this cold distance between you? She had been so possessive, so inflamed by the thought that you would even entertain another woman. 

The sound of her footsteps recedes up the stairs. What does she expect you to do? She picked you up from your mom’s house, and you can’t exactly call her to come get you. 

So you go upstairs and find Agatha in her bedroom, swiping at her face while she’s throwing clothes into a suitcase. You momentarily lose your train of thought when she slides open a drawer and you see about a dozen sets of lacy lingerie. 

Agatha clears it out and dumps it into the suitcase. 

And then your brows furrow in confusion. “Wait, you’re moving out? Why not make my dad?” 

She looks at you like she didn’t even realize you had come in. “It’s easier this way. I’ll get an apartment closer to my job. Your dad can do whatever he wants with this place, he’s the one that wanted it in the first place.” 

“Oh. Okay,” you say, a little dumbfounded. Everything is happening so fast, completely spinning out of control, and you don’t know what to make of it. She spares you another glance before standing up and moving to clear out her nightstand. 

She takes out a vibrator and the rope she tied you up with just yesterday and places them on top of the lingerie. 

“At least we don’t have to worry about my dad catching us anymore, right?” You try to joke, but definitely not the time or place.

Agatha stiffens. “Honey,” she starts, and you know you’re not going to like this. 

“No,” you interrupt. “You’re getting divorced. We don’t have to sneak around anymore, or at least not as much. I like you, Agatha, and I don’t know how you feel about me–” 

“I’m leaving your father because of you,” she snaps and it’s like you’ve been slapped in the face. A thick silence settles over the two of you and you can see how hard she’s clenching her jaw. 

“What?” You whisper. “He’s having an affair, I feel like that should be your main priority.” But your heart is beating fast and you feel like you’re getting close to getting something real from her. 

She rolls her eyes and faces you directly. “Obviously. But I was thinking about it before. He’s not the only one who’s been having an affair here.” Was she leaving him because it’s the right thing to do? Or–

“So…” The pieces are scrambling to connect in your mind. “You want to be with me?” 

Agatha scoffs like the idea is ridiculous. “Be with the eighteen year old about to go off to college and find plenty of girls her own age to fuck?” 

She’s insecure? You can tell Agatha doesn’t completely understand how she’s feeling either, you can see the storm brewing in her eyes. She’s conflicted, torn between her own feelings. 

You walk over to where she’s standing and put your hands on her shoulders. Agatha doesn’t even meet your eyes. But then you slide your hands down her arms, onto her hips, and sink down to your knees. 

Now she looks at you and swallows hard. You can see the effect you’re having on her, her blown out pupils, and it only spurs you on. 

Your fingers fiddle with the zipper on your pants, carefully watching her face for any sign of hesitation. You drag the zipper down slowly and she helps you take off her pants and steps out of them like she’s in a trance. She’s still wearing the strap-on, it still smells like you – fuck, don’t get distracted. 

You loosen the harness and slide that down her legs too before leaning in and nipping at her thigh. 

“Let me show you how much I don’t want someone my own age?” You offer, gazing at her through your eyelashes. 

Her hand tangles in your hair and you let out a quiet gasp. “Go ahead, babygirl,” she says in a low voice, the voice that always gets you going, and pushes your head in-between her legs. 

It’s a bit of an awkward position, with her standing above you, stance slightly widened with you on the ground in front of her, but you make it work. 

You flatten your tongue and lick through her folds, collecting her wetness and moaning at the taste. It’s something you’ll never get tired of. You think you could easily spend hours eating Agatha out, and that’s something you’d like to try if she lets you. 

When your tongue flicks against her clit, her hand tightens in your hair and she lets out a moan and you do it again, desperate to please, desperate to hear more sounds fall from her lips. She lets out a little gasp when you suck on her clit, and you do it harder. Agatha’s hips jerk and she tugs on your hair, causing you to moan against her pussy. 

“God, honey, right there,” she says hoarsely and you double-down on your efforts, rubbing your tongue up and down over her clit while maintaining eye contact. Her groan is deep and she keeps brushing away the hair that falls over your face so she can see you. 

Your hands trace her thighs, the front and the back, and you dig your nails into the skin, leaving crescent indentations. The muscles in her legs tighten and she tries to roll her hips against your face but the position you two are in makes that challenging. 

So she steps back, your tongue still moving instinctively even though her pussy is gone, and you whine her name. 

She smirks and runs a hand through her hair, collecting herself for a second. “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy just wants to move to the bed.” 

Agatha walks to her bed, sits and leans back, spreading her legs for you. Your mouth practically waters at the sight of her dripping cunt that was on your face not a minute earlier and you move to stand up, but she stops you. 

“Stay on your knees,” she orders and you clench around nothing. The carpet is rough on your skin, but you can feel yourself getting wetter from her intense but appreciative gaze as you practically crawl across the room for her. 

You finally get to her and you push open her legs even more, first deciding to kiss up the length of each inner thigh. She shakes beneath you, especially when you get close to the heat between them, and she gasps when you nip at the pale skin. And then you dive back into her pussy, thrusting your tongue inside her, and she’s able to grind much more on your face without fear of falling over when she’s sitting like this. 

Your stepmom rides your face and all you have to do is open your mouth and stick out your tongue and she does the rest; she drags her pussy all over, small huffs falling out of her mouth at the exertion. Agatha takes what she needs from you until you can feel her clenching and her hips start to falter – she’s getting closer. 

You slide your hands around the backs of her thighs and pull her even closer to you so you can take over, sucking roughly on her clit and then curling your tongue inside her and repeating, all while Agatha moans uncontrollably above you, her hips jerking with each touch to her clit. 

“Fuck, babygirl, right there,” she chokes out, you can feel her throbbing, feel her walls fluttering around your tongue, and you don’t change a thing about what you’re doing, keeping the same pace and speed to gradually build up her orgasm. You can feel her body getting tighter and tenser and you know she’s about to cum. 

You give her one last filthy lick up the length of her pussy and then suck on her clit harshly, and she cums all over your face, getting it absolutely soaked. 

As if you’d ever complain about that. Agatha looks so hot coming apart for you like that, and you can’t believe she’d ever think you’d rather have a college hook-up than her. 

It takes her a moment to recover, but when she tilts your chin up, you beam at her, and you can still see the heat in her eyes. 

And even though she just fucked you hard in the bathroom, you need more too. You surge up off your knees and almost knock her backwards with the force and capture her lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and lips. 

She groans at the taste of herself on you and you straddle her lap, pushing a thigh between hers so you’re both able to grind on each other while you kiss. Her hands hike up the dress you’re still wearing so she can cup your ass and guide you on her leg, pushing you down harder against her, and you have to break away from her mouth to moan. Your underwear is absolutely soaked and clinging to you, almost getting uncomfortable. 

Your fingers fumble with buttons on her silky button-down and eventually you get so exasperated that you just rip it, buttons flying everywhere around the room. Agatha chuckles in amusement and tugs on your underwear, and you reluctantly get off her for a second to take it off. 

But then you climb back on her, your lips finding hers again, and this time when her hands wrap around your waist to pull you closer, she does fall back with how hard you’re grinding and kissing. 

You don’t care. Instead, you get an idea. You’ve never tried it before, but it seems like this would be the perfect time to. 

Sitting back up, you ignore Agatha’s confused look and chew on your lip. She lets you angle one of her legs up and over your hip, while you put your other leg over hers. When your eyes flick back up to Agatha’s, you can see recognition on her face and she looks positively excited. 

And then with a deep breath, you lower yourself down and a gasp escapes your mouth when your cunt touches hers. 

“Fuck, honey,” Agatha says and you have to pause before you become overwhelmed with pleasure. 

You slowly roll your hips and you both moan. “Mommy,” you whimper. “Feels so good.” 

Her hands settle on your waist while you lean forward, bracketing her head with your arms, and she helps you move against her, your wetness mixing with hers and making it easy to slide against each other. 

“Fuck, baby, you have no idea how hot you are,” Agatha murmurs, maybe more to herself than to you, but there’s no denying how much effect those words have on you. Your clit pulses and you keen, your movements becoming sloppy, but Agatha’s hips rise to meet yours and there’s an absolute mess between the two of you in no time. 

Your head drops down so you can pepper kisses against her chest and sternum, mouthing at her breasts through her lacy, gray bra. Agatha jerks beneath you, her clit stroking against yours and you pant hotly against her skin. 

“Mommy,” you whisper, your head starting to spin with how good it feels. Her wetness, being able to feel all of her so intimately, her ragged breathing, the slight sheen of sweat on her chest. You drag your tongue over the skin at her bra line and her back arches off the bed.

Your limbs are entangled and the movements become short ruts against each other, hands flying from cheeks to hips to breasts to thighs and you can feel the tension building in your stomach. Agatha is getting closer, too, she’s breathing into your open mouth and the only sounds in the room are the two of you moaning and the slickness of your wetness. 

“Fuck, right there,” Agatha says tightly, your clit finding hers, and the two of you grind just like that, the stimulation almost too good. “God, sweetheart, you feel so good.” 

Your hips stammer and she pulls you in for a kiss, strokes her tongue into your mouth, and you cum all over her pussy, the dam inside you exploding. Pleasure races through your veins and you think your mind goes blank for a second, absolutely no thoughts except for Agatha. 

She follows shortly after, her body twitching under yours and you can feel her orgasm as she rides it out against you. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever felt, and the embers of the heat inside your stomach flicker. 

You stay on top of her for a minute or two, just soaking in the feeling of her against you like that. 

And then Agatha stiffens. “I don’t know if your dad is coming home tonight, but we should probably get cleaned up.” You groan at her mentioning your dad right now, right after possibly the best sex you’ve had in your life, but she has a point. 

You get off her and find your underwear, sliding it back on and fixing your appearance in the mirror. Agatha gives you a wolfish grin and a low whistle at your reflection and you roll your eyes playfully. 

She pulls on an entirely new outfit, her pants strewn on the floor somewhere and her shirt completely ripped open, and then she washes off the strap in the sink and puts that in her suitcase, too. 

It’s as you’re following her downstairs, carrying the other suitcase she quickly packed in your hands, when your dad opens the front door, looking flustered. 

“Agatha, please, talk to me,” he begs when he sees the two of you, eyes darting in confusion between you, probably wondering what you’re doing. Your stepmom walks right past him, and you awkwardly follow. “Sweet pea,” he says, this time referring to you. “What is going on?” 

“I know you’ve been cheating,” Agatha says, pausing when she gets to the door to whirl back around to face him. He looks like he just got punched in the stomach and you almost laugh. “I’m getting a hotel tonight, and then I’ll look for an apartment. You can have everything in this house. I’ll be talking to my lawyer tomorrow.” 

It’s the quickest settlement you’ve ever seen. When your parents got divorced, they had gone back and forth for months, bickering over the smallest things like blankets and game boards. You couldn’t be more relieved that Agatha just wants a clean break and no hassle. 

She opens the door and walks out of it, you only two steps behind, and you close it after you’re both outside, ignoring your dad’s calls for you to come back. 

You both wordlessly walk to her car and she opens the trunk to put her suitcases in. She didn’t pack all of her stuff, she will still need to come back and get the rest of her clothes and whatnot, but it’s a good start. You’re more than willing to come back by yourself and get the rest of her belongings, too. 

Agatha gets into the driver’s seat and you slide into the passenger’s. It doesn’t seem to be a question that you’re coming with her. 

“I know you don’t really want to talk about what happens next for us,” you say quietly, needing to get some things off your chest. “We don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But just know that I’m not going to do what he did, or throw you away like that. I really like you, Agatha. And if it’s just like this for however long this lasts, I’m okay with that. I just want you.” 

Her eyes stay on the road and her lips purse, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she won’t. 

But then her hand slips down across the center console and interlocks her fingers with yours and she squeezes. You can see the hint of a smile ghosting her face. 

You squeeze back. That’s all the answer you need. 

[f14fun]

A Cowgirl's Stars, Stripes, and Speed (!black-!cowgirl-!singer x dr3) (C2)

synopsis: in which case y/n, a bold African American country singer, crosses paths with Daniel, a charming Australian Formula 1 driver, both tipsy and unwound by the night.

prose + smau (11.6K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

author's note: completely forgot that i had chapter two in the drafts, here ya go! (so so so sorry this is literally MONTHS late)

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Waking up for Free Practice One, or FP1 as Maddie called it, felt a lot like waking up for a rodeo at 5 a.m.—except instead of dust, horses, and the smell of hay, I was getting ready for million-dollar cars, European accents, and a paddock full of people who probably didn’t know what a boot-scootin’ boogie was.

“Am I the first person to ever show up to a Formula 1 event in cowboy boots?” I muttered to myself, staring at my reflection in the mirror. “Because if so, I’m about to make history.”

Maddie barged into my room, her eyes immediately zeroing in on my footwear choice. “You cannot—cannot—be serious,” she said, pointing at the boots like they had personally offended her.

I raised an eyebrow. “You do realize I’m from Texas, right? I’m contractually obligated to wear these.”

She groaned, dramatically rolling her eyes. “Y/N, this isn’t a rodeo. It’s Formula 1. There are literally people there who probably think Texas is just a setting for Western movies.”

“Good,” I replied, giving my boots an extra little stomp for emphasis. “They’re about to learn a thing or two.”

Maddie, fully aware that no amount of persuasion was going to change my mind, sighed and flopped down on my bed. “You’re going to be the most interesting thing to hit the paddock, and I don’t even know if that’s a compliment.”

“I’ll take it,” I said, grabbing my bag. “Besides, I’m sure Daniel’s already prepared for my... unique aesthetic.”

Maddie grinned. “Oh, he’s definitely prepared. The real question is—are you ready for what’s coming?”

I shot her a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh, nothing. Just that you’re about to be dropped into a world of fast cars, faster drivers, and more champagne than you’ve ever seen in your life. Try not to faint when Daniel shows up in his race suit, though. I've seen you salivate like a dog in a man in a suit before, I better not see this behavior in public again,” she waved her finger and raised her eyebrow.

I snorted. “I’ll try to control myself.”

She followed me to the door, a mischievous grin still plastered on her face. “Don’t worry. If you pass out, I’ll be there to catch you. And get it on camera.”

“Thanks, sister of the year,” I said, rolling my eyes as we headed out to face what was bound to be the weirdest and wildest weekend of my life.

As we pulled up to the track, the sheer size of everything hit me. The grandstands, the noise, the sleekness of it all—it was overwhelming, and we weren’t even at the paddock yet. “This is... a lot,” I muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly. My nerves had kicked in.

Maddie, of course, was completely unfazed. “Oh, yeah. Welcome to the big leagues. Now let’s get you inside before you chicken out and run back to the rodeo.”

“Not a chance,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

As we made our way to the paddock entrance, I kept reminding myself to stay cool. I wasn’t some fangirl—I was here to support Daniel and, okay, maybe enjoy the adrenaline rush of being surrounded by the fastest cars on the planet. But when we reached the paddock gate and I spotted the crowds of stylish people and team members buzzing around, I couldn’t help but feel a little out of place.

“This is... fancy,” I whispered to Maddie as I spotted a group of people sipping espresso like they were at some high-end café instead of a racetrack.

“Yeah, and you’re about to be the wild card,” Maddie replied with a grin.

Before I could say anything, I heard a familiar voice behind me. “Y/N?”

I turned, and there he was—Daniel Ricciardo, in his race suit, smiling like he had all the time in the world. And damn, Maddie wasn’t kidding—he looked good in it.

“Welcome to the circus,” he said with a grin, his eyes flicking down to my boots before meeting mine again. “Nice boots. You ready for your first Formula 1 weekend?”

I smirked. “I mean, as long as no one tries to race me in those things, I think I’ll survive.”

As Daniel chuckled, leading us deeper into the paddock, I started to notice it—the stares. At first, I thought I was imagining things, but no. People were definitely glancing my way, some openly, others stealing curious looks from behind their sunglasses or over the rims of their espresso cups.

I tried to ignore it, focusing on the sound of Daniel’s voice and Maddie’s occasional teasing, but the feeling started to creep up on me. The combination of being the only one in cowboy boots, the only one not decked out in sleek, designer outfits, and, let’s be real, the only Black woman in this sea of European wealth and privilege—it was a lot.

For a split second, my confidence wavered. What am I doing here? This world, with its fast cars and high fashion, felt miles away from anything I’d ever known. I could feel their eyes tracing over my skin, my clothes, my difference. And that old, familiar feeling of not quite fitting in snuck up on me, catching me off guard.

Do they think I don’t belong here? The thought stuck, and I hated that it did.

Maddie, always attuned to my moods, leaned in, her voice low. “You good?”

I forced a smile, trying to shake off the insecurity that had settled over me. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Maddie wasn’t buying it. She followed my gaze, noticing the same looks I had. “They’re just jealous they don’t have boots as cool as yours,” she said with a wink, her voice light but full of understanding.

Daniel, completely unaware of my sudden internal struggle, turned back to us with a grin. “Everything alright back there?”

I cleared my throat, snapping out of my thoughts. “Yeah, just taking it all in. You weren’t kidding when you called this place a circus.”

He laughed, oblivious to the little battle going on in my head. “It’s a lot at first, I know. But don’t worry—soon enough, you’ll be running this place.”

I smiled, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. I wanted to believe him, to feel like I could own this space as easily as he did, but the truth was, I felt like an outsider. It was the same feeling I got sometimes in certain parts of Austin, where people would look at me, sizing me up, wondering how I fit into the picture they had in their heads. But this—Formula 1? This was a whole new level.

We kept walking, Daniel chatting about the weekend ahead, and I did my best to nod and respond when appropriate, but my mind kept drifting back to those stares. I do belong here. Right?

Just when I thought I’d spiral into that uncomfortable feeling, Maddie looped her arm through mine and whispered, “Remember, you’re here because you deserve to be. Plus, you’ve got Daniel freaking Ricciardo practically showing you off. That’s gotta mean something.”

I glanced at her, a small smile tugging at my lips. She always knew how to snap me out of my head. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And just wait until you walk by some of these stuck-up folks in those boots. You’ll have them talking about you for weeks.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. Maddie had a point. Maybe I didn’t fit in here the way they did, but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe being different was exactly what I needed to be.

As we turned the corner, Daniel slowed his pace, and I noticed a man standing with a group of people, talking animatedly. He had this authoritative air about him, someone who clearly knew his way around the place—definitely important. Daniel gave him a nod as we approached, and the man turned, his face breaking into a smile.

“Daniel!” the man called out, clapping Daniel on the back as we stopped in front of him. His eyes quickly flicked over to me and Maddie, curious but friendly.

Daniel grinned. “Christian, meet Y/N and her sister Maddie. They’re, uh, getting their first taste of the F1 circus.”

Christian turned to us, offering a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, ladies. I’m Christian Horner, team principal at Red Bull Racing.” He extended his hand, and it took me a second to process his name.

I blinked, suddenly realizing who I was standing in front of. The guy who ran one of the most successful teams in Formula 1. Oh, wow. I managed to return the handshake, trying to keep my cool.

"Y/N," I said, trying to sound casual, though my voice was a little more high-pitched than I intended. "Nice to meet you too."

Christian’s gaze shifted between us, still friendly but clearly sizing up the new faces. “I trust Daniel’s showing you around? Not too overwhelmed by all of this, I hope.”

I shrugged, trying to downplay the fact that, yeah, I was definitely overwhelmed. “It’s... a lot to take in. But Daniel’s been helpful.” I shot Daniel a look, raising an eyebrow.

Christian laughed. “That’s good to hear. He tends to make quite the impression.”

Before I could reply, another voice chimed in from behind us. “And who do we have here?” The accent was British, but lighter, more playful.

I turned and found myself looking at a young guy with curly brown hair and a cheeky grin plastered on his face. He was clearly younger, but there was a confidence about him that said he wasn’t new to this. His eyes landed on me, and the grin widened.

Daniel rolled his eyes but didn’t miss a beat. “Y/N, Maddie, this is Lando. Lando Norris. He drives for McLaren.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Lando said, stepping forward and offering a handshake. I took it, trying not to get lost in how friendly his smile was. He definitely had that mischievous look—the kind that said he was always up to something.

“Nice to meet you too,” I said, my grip firm despite my nerves. Maddie, meanwhile, looked like she was about to faint.

Lando’s eyes flicked over me, lingering for just a second longer than necessary, and I suddenly felt like I was back in the bar, dealing with that playful banter all over again. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

I nodded, biting back a grin. “Yeah, first time.”

“Well,” he said, leaning in just slightly, “if you need someone to show you around the paddock, I’m your guy. Daniel’s great, but I can give you the real tour.” He winked, clearly enjoying himself.

Maddie let out a small giggle, and I shot her a don’t you dare look.

Daniel, standing just a little too stiffly beside me, cut in before I could respond. “Yeah, Lando’s an expert at real tours. But I think I’ve got it handled.”

I noticed the slight edge to Daniel’s voice, though he tried to keep it light. Lando, ever the cheeky one, just shrugged.

“Alright, alright,” Lando said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes, mate.”

Maddie, always ready to stir the pot, jumped in. “I mean, it doesn’t hurt to have options, right?”

I glared at her, my cheeks heating up. Not helping, Maddie.

Lando chuckled, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Exactly. Always good to have a backup plan.” He shot me a quick grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Daniel, clearly not thrilled with the direction this conversation was going, leaned a little closer to me, his voice low but firm. “I think Y/N’s got all the help she needs, mate.”

The tension was subtle, but it was definitely there. Lando, ever the joker, just smiled and backed off with a shrug. “No worries, Daniel. Just being friendly.”

Christian, watching the exchange with mild amusement, clapped his hands together. “Alright, boys, save the rivalry for the track.”

Daniel, now visibly more relaxed, shot Christian a grin. “No rivalry here. Just making sure Y/N gets the proper tour.”

I smirked, nudging Daniel lightly. “I can handle a little extra attention, you know.”

He glanced down at me, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, well, some of us don’t need to flirt to make a good impression.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his grin never faltering. “Flirting’s just a bonus.”

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “Oh, this is going to be a long weekend.”

Lando, noticing Maddie’s growing excitement, gave her a mischievous grin. “Well, I suppose I can offer someone a proper tour of the track. Maddie, what do you say? Want to ditch these two and come with me? I’ll show you where the real action is.”

Maddie’s eyes lit up like she had just won the lottery. “Oh, hell yes! I mean, uh, yeah, sure,” she said, trying to act cool, but completely failing at it. This girl was not as nonchalant and mysterious as she thought she was.

I shot her a look, half warning, half amused. “Maddie…”

She waved me off with a grin. “I’ll catch up with you later, sis. I’m in good hands.” Then she leaned in, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, “Don’t wait up.”

Before I could respond, Lando took her by the arm and started leading her away, his signature cheeky grin firmly in place. “You two behave now,” he called over his shoulder, clearly loving every second of this.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I cannot believe my sister just ditched me for an F1 tour.”

Daniel smirked, watching them disappear into the bustling crowd of the paddock. “Well, I don’t blame her. Lando’s... energetic. Plus, now I get you all to myself.”

I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? That your plan all along?”

He grinned, not even bothering to hide the mischievous glint in his eye. “Maybe. It worked, didn’t it?”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. “Alright, Mr. Ricciardo, so what’s next on this grand tour? Or is this where you start charming me with racing facts?”

He chuckled, taking a step closer. “I could give you the whole rundown on tire compounds and aerodynamics, but I’m guessing that’s not why you’re here.”

I tilted my head, pretending to consider. “Actually, I was really hoping for a deep dive into downforce.”

Daniel laughed, the sound easy and genuine. “I can save that for later. Right now, though, how about I take you somewhere a little quieter? Grab a bite?”

My stomach, which had been ignored in all the excitement, grumbled in agreement. “You read my mind.”

Daniel gestured for me to follow him, weaving through the maze of garages and trailers that made up the heart of the paddock. As we walked, people continued to stare, but this time, with Daniel by my side, I felt more at ease. He had a way of making everything feel less intimidating, like I could handle whatever this crazy world threw at me.

As we continued walking, weaving through the bustling paddock, Daniel’s arm brushed against mine, and before I knew it, his hand found mine. The move was casual, like he’d done it a thousand times, but it caught me off guard. His fingers intertwined with mine, and I immediately noticed how smooth his skin was, warm against my palm.

I glanced down at our hands, surprised at how perfectly they fit together, like this was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn’t just the physical contact—it was the feeling that came with it, a mix of warmth and comfort that settled over me, making the chaotic energy of the paddock fade into the background.

I looked up at him, but he didn’t say anything. He just smiled that easy, confident smile, his thumb gently brushing the back of my hand as we walked. It was such a simple gesture, but my heart did a little flip anyway.

“So,” he said, his voice light and teasing, “you still expecting that downforce lecture?”

I laughed, trying to keep my cool despite the butterflies in my stomach. “You know, I think I’m good for now. I’ll save the nerdy questions for later.”

He gave my hand a small squeeze, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Good call. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with all that F1 knowledge right away.”

I shook my head, grinning as we walked. My brain was still half-focused on how nice his hand felt in mine, but I was doing my best to keep up the conversation. “I think I’ve had enough new information for one day.”

We continued strolling through the paddock, and though the stares hadn’t completely stopped, they no longer made me feel out of place. With Daniel holding my hand, the looks from other people didn’t matter as much. It was like there was this invisible bubble around us, and for the first time that day, I felt like I actually belonged in this world.

He led me toward a quieter section of the paddock, where the energy was less frantic, and it was easier to talk without being drowned out by the roar of engines. The sounds of mechanics working and conversations happening in every direction became a soft background noise.

Daniel glanced over at me, his grip on my hand tightening slightly. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping just a bit, “I’m really glad you’re here. It’s nice to have someone... different around.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Different how?”

He smirked, his eyes scanning my face for a second before he answered. “You’re not trying to impress anyone. You’re just... yourself. I like that.”

I felt my cheeks flush at his words, and I looked away, trying to hide the smile creeping up on my lips. “I guess it’s hard to impress people when you barely know what’s going on.”

He laughed softly, his thumb still absentmindedly tracing patterns on the back of my hand. “Trust me, you’re doing better than half the people here.”

I glanced back up at him, our eyes locking for a brief moment. There was something deeper in his gaze, something that made me feel like I wasn’t just a guest in his world—I was someone he actually wanted to be around.

Before I could come up with a reply, we reached the small café area he had mentioned earlier. The space was quiet, tucked away from the hustle of the paddock, and the smell of food was enough to make my stomach grumble again.

Daniel smiled, clearly hearing my stomach. “Guess I made a good call bringing you here. Let’s grab something to eat.”

We found a cozy little table in the corner of the café, and I immediately felt the tension from the rest of the day melt away. The smell of freshly cooked food filled the air, and the quiet buzz of conversation hummed softly in the background. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the paddock just outside.

Daniel sat across from me, still wearing that easy smile that made it impossible for me to stay nervous. As we flipped through the menus, his eyes flicked up toward me. “So, any idea what you’re in the mood for, or should I make a recommendation?”

I smirked, lowering my menu to meet his gaze. “You recommending something non-Texan? I don’t know, that might be risky.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an amused glint in his eyes. “I think I can manage. This might not be BBQ or Tex-Mex, but I promise, the food here won’t disappoint.”

I raised an eyebrow, still pretending to be skeptical. “Alright, Ricciardo, hit me with your best suggestion. What’s the must-have paddock dish?”

Without missing a beat, he leaned in, dropping his voice to a mock-serious tone. “You’ve gotta try the... ham sandwich.”

I blinked, staring at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “The ham sandwich? Seriously?”

He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, sometimes the simple things in life are the best. And I’d argue a good ham sandwich can be life-changing.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, still chuckling. “I’ll take your word for it. But I think I’ll stick with something that sounds a little more... adventurous.”

Daniel smiled, leaning his elbows on the table, clearly enjoying the banter. “You’re adventurous, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before I could respond, a waiter appeared, and we placed our orders—him going with the infamous ham sandwich, me opting for something a little more exciting. As we waited for the food, the conversation turned a little more personal.

“So,” Daniel began, his tone shifting from playful to genuinely curious, “tell me more about you. We’ve talked a lot about my world today, but I feel like I don’t know enough about yours. What’s it like being a country singer in Texas?”

I shrugged, fiddling with the edge of my napkin. “It’s definitely... different from this.” I gestured around, indicating the world of Formula 1 we were sitting in. “It’s a lot of late-night gigs, long drives between towns, and trying to get people to listen to your music. But I love it. There’s something special about connecting with people through songs.”

He nodded, his eyes intent on mine. “I get that. Racing’s a lot like that, actually. You’ve got all this hard work behind the scenes, but it’s those moments on track when everything comes together that make it all worth it.”

I smiled, appreciating the parallel. “Yeah, I guess it’s similar. Although I doubt people scream your name at the end of a concert the way they do when you’re on the podium.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’d be surprised. People get pretty wild over a good performance, no matter what the stage looks like.”

I tilted my head, studying him. “What about you, though? You’ve been doing this for so long. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

Daniel’s expression softened, and for a moment, I saw a glimpse of something deeper in his eyes. “There are times when it’s exhausting, yeah. The travel, the pressure, all of it can be overwhelming. But at the end of the day, I love it. The thrill of being on track, the competition... it’s hard to give that up.”

I nodded, feeling a newfound respect for him. “It sounds like a crazy life, but I can see why you love it.”

He smiled again, this time more sincere, and leaned forward slightly. “Enough about me, though. What’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened to you on stage?”

I laughed, thinking back to some of the more ridiculous moments. “Oh, there are so many. But probably the time when a guy tried to propose to his girlfriend in the middle of my set, and she said no. Talk about awkward.”

Daniel’s eyes widened. “No way. That actually happened?”

I nodded, laughing. “Yep. Right in the middle of a ballad, too. The whole crowd went silent, and I just stood there like, ‘Do I keep playing?’”

He winced, clearly feeling the secondhand embarrassment. “That’s brutal. I don’t know if I could’ve kept going.”

I grinned, leaning back in my chair. “It’s a tough gig, but someone’s gotta do it.”

He shook his head, laughing again. “I’m impressed. I don’t think I’ve had anything that cringey happen on track, but now I’m kinda hoping for it.”

I smirked. “Be careful what you wish for.”

The waiter returned with our food, and as we started eating, the conversation flowed easily. It wasn’t forced or awkward—it just felt natural, like we’d known each other longer than just a couple of days. Between bites of food, we joked about everything from our weirdest fan encounters to the quirks of our respective worlds.

At one point, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and gave me that cheeky grin again. “Alright, I’ve gotta ask—how are you handling this whole F1 thing? It’s gotta be a little overwhelming.”

I swallowed my bite of food, considering his question. “Honestly? It’s wild. It’s like being dropped into a completely different universe. But... I’m kinda enjoying it. It’s different, but in a good way.”

Daniel’s eyes sparkled, and I could tell he was pleased with my answer. “Good. I was hoping you’d like it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Worried I’d bail halfway through the weekend?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. I just wanted you to have fun. I know it’s not easy being thrown into all of this.”

I smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle in my chest. “I am having fun. More than I expected, actually.”

He reached across the table and gave my hand a quick squeeze, his touch sending a little jolt of electricity through me. “Good. Because this weekend’s only just getting started.”

I couldn’t help but grin, my heart racing a little faster than it should have been. Something told me he wasn’t just talking about the race.

“Guess I’d better buckle up, then,” I said, the flirtatious edge in my voice impossible to hide.

Daniel leaned back, his grin widening. “Oh, you have no idea what you’re in for.”

Daniel stood up, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape against the floor. “I’ll be right back. Don’t miss me too much,” he teased, giving me a playful wink before heading toward the back of the café.

I rolled my eyes, chuckling as I watched him go. But as soon as he disappeared out of sight, my attention shifted to the door of the café, and my heart nearly stopped.

Johnny.

There he was, casually strolling into the café like it was the most normal thing in the world. The same Johnny I hadn’t seen in months—the guy I thought I’d left in the past—was now standing less than ten feet away from me.

What the actual hell?

First Carrie yesterday, now Johnny today? It was like the universe was conspiring against me. Why were these two popping up like ghosts from my past all of a sudden? And more importantly—why here?

Fuck me man, I felt like that one story that had Ebenezer Scrooge in it—that's right, that weird story my Mom read to me when I was younger, A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. But instead of the Ghost of Christmas Past and the Ghost of Jacob Marley, I was haunted by the ghosts of bad decisions and unresolved drama. Carrie, with her biting sarcasm and unfinished business, and Johnny, the walking reminder of every poor choice I’d ever made. They weren’t here to show me the errors of my ways—they were here to twist the knife.

The Ghost of Missed Opportunities, and the Ghost of "What the hell was I thinking?" Great. Just great. All I needed was one more, the Ghost of Emotional Baggage, to complete the haunting trifecta. Maybe they’d hold hands and sing carols while I watched my dignity fade into oblivion.

Panic fluttered in my chest, and without thinking, I shifted in my seat, tilting my head down so that my hair fell forward, obscuring as much of my face as possible. I pulled the menu up as an extra barrier, mentally chanting, please don’t see me, please don’t see me.

I peeked through a small gap between the strands of my hair, watching as Johnny scanned the room. For a second, I thought I was safe—he seemed to be looking past me, like he hadn’t noticed me at all.

But then his eyes stopped. And locked directly onto me.

Shit.

What are the odds…Nevermind, I actually do not want to know.

His brows furrowed in recognition, and I saw the exact moment he realized who I was. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by what could only be described as mild amusement. My heart sank as he started walking toward me, his steps slow but deliberate.

“Y/N?” His voice was hesitant, like he wasn’t entirely sure if it was really me, but I knew that tone all too well.

I kept my face half-hidden, silently hoping for some kind of divine intervention. But this was real, and there was no escaping it now.

“Johnny,” I said, my voice as neutral as I could muster, finally dropping the menu and brushing the hair back from my face.

He stopped in front of me, a small smirk forming on his lips. “I thought that was you. Didn’t expect to see you... here.”

I forced a tight smile, trying to keep my composure. “Yeah, well... here I am.”

He crossed his arms, glancing around the café. “F1 paddock, huh? You sure are full of surprises these days.”

I felt my jaw tighten. “I could say the same thing. What are you doing here, Johnny?”

He shrugged, his smirk deepening. “Business. Just checking things out. You know how it is.”

I raised an eyebrow. “At the Formula 1 paddock?”

“Hey, I get around,” he said with a casual shrug, but I could see that smugness in his eyes—the same look that used to drive me crazy. “But what about you? Last I checked, you weren’t into fast cars and fancy races.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Things change. People change.”

He let out a low chuckle, clearly amused. “So I see. You always were full of surprises.”

I could feel the heat rising in my chest, the mix of annoyance and nerves bubbling up. This wasn’t how I wanted to spend my day. Not with Johnny, of all people. And definitely not here.

Before I could come up with a response, his eyes flicked to the empty seat across from me. “You mind if I sit?”

Yes, I mind, I thought, but instead I nodded, forcing a polite smile. “Go ahead.”

Johnny slid into the chair, leaning forward on his elbows like this was some kind of casual catch-up, his eyes studying me. “So, who’re you here with? Anyone special?” His tone was light, but I could hear the curiosity behind it.

I hesitated for a second, not sure how much to say. “Just... here for the weekend.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “That’s vague.”

I shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward the back of the café, half-hoping Daniel would miraculously reappear and save me from this awkward situation. “It’s not really important, Johnny.”

But he wasn’t about to drop it. “You know, I ran into Carrie yesterday. Small world, huh?”

My heart sank further. Of course he’d bring up Carrie. The two of them had always been close, and after everything that went down, the last thing I wanted was for them to be talking about me.

“Yeah, it’s a small world,” I said, my voice tight.

Johnny leaned back in his chair, studying me with that familiar look—like he knew something I didn’t. “You and Carrie… didn’t exactly end on the best terms, huh?”

I stiffened, narrowing my eyes. “You know exactly why, Johnny.”

He gave a slow nod, as if savoring the tension in the air. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Before I could respond, the sound of footsteps approaching made me glance up—and there was Daniel, walking back toward the table with an easy grin on his face. But the second he spotted Johnny sitting there, his smile faltered, replaced by a look of confusion. “Everything alright here?” Daniel asked, his tone polite but edged with something sharper. Johnny’s smirk didn’t waver as he glanced over his shoulder at Daniel. “Just catching up with an old friend.” He turned back to me, his eyes still locked on mine. “Didn’t realize you’d moved on so quickly.”

The tension in the air became palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Daniel stood there, his posture casual but his eyes sharp, flicking between Johnny and me, clearly trying to assess the situation. Johnny, on the other hand, seemed to relish the discomfort, leaning back in his chair with that insufferable smirk still plastered on his face.

I felt my pulse quicken, the unease settling deep in my stomach. “Johnny, this isn’t—”

He interrupted me, tilting his head slightly. “No need to explain, Y/N. We all move on, right?” His tone was dripping with sarcasm, like he knew exactly how to twist the knife. “Though, from what I hear, you didn’t waste any time.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened just slightly, and I saw the flash of annoyance in his eyes. “I think she’s already made it clear that this isn’t your business,” he said, his voice cool but laced with warning.

Johnny didn’t seem fazed by Daniel’s calm exterior. If anything, it seemed to fuel his smugness. He glanced at Daniel, sizing him up in that subtle, passive-aggressive way I knew all too well. “Oh, no offense, mate. Just curious is all. I mean, I didn’t think I’d be seeing her here in the middle of the Formula 1 paddock, much less sitting with you.”

My stomach churned as Johnny’s words hung in the air. He wasn’t just trying to get under my skin anymore—he was trying to provoke Daniel. And judging by the way Daniel’s hand flexed slightly at his side, I could tell it was working.

“Y/N’s welcome wherever she wants to be,” Daniel replied, his voice steady but with an edge that I hadn’t heard before. “You should probably get that through your head.”

Johnny’s smirk faltered for the first time, and a flicker of something darker passed through his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his gaze locking onto mine. “It’s just funny, you know? How you can spend years with someone, thinking you know them, and then one day...” He snapped his fingers. “They’re gone. Just like that.”

I clenched my jaw, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. This wasn’t about me and Daniel anymore. This was Johnny’s way of dredging up old wounds, reminding me of the past, and making sure Daniel knew that he wasn’t just some random ex-boyfriend. He wanted to make this personal.

“I didn’t just leave, Johnny,” I said quietly, but firmly. “We both know why it ended.”

Johnny leaned back, that smirk creeping back onto his face as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Ah, yes. My bad. You’ve got it all figured out now, huh? Living the high life, new man, new world.”

Daniel, who had been standing next to me, finally stepped forward, positioning himself closer to Johnny, his eyes narrowing. “I think you’ve said enough.”

The air between them crackled with tension, and for a split second, I thought things might actually escalate. Daniel’s easygoing demeanor had shifted, and he wasn’t playing around anymore. I could feel the protective energy radiating from him, like he was ready to step in if Johnny pushed any further.

Johnny met Daniel’s gaze, the smirk still on his face but his eyes cold. “Just having a conversation, mate. No need to get worked up.”

Daniel didn’t back down, his voice dropping lower. “You’re not here to talk. You’re here to stir things up. I get it. But it’s not going to work.”

Johnny chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. He stood up, adjusting his jacket as he looked down at both of us. “Well, it’s been enlightening, Y/N. Really. I’ll see you around.”

He glanced at Daniel one last time before turning on his heel and walking out of the café, his presence leaving a bitter taste in the air.

I let out a shaky breath, the tension in my body slowly unraveling as Johnny disappeared from view. Daniel sat down across from me, his expression still hard, his jaw clenched. He looked at me, his concern evident in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

I nodded, but I couldn’t hide the lingering frustration. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t expect to see him here, or... Carrie yesterday. It’s like they’re everywhere all of a sudden.”

Daniel reached across the table, taking my hand in his. His grip was firm, grounding me. “You don’t have to apologize for him. He’s clearly got some unresolved issues, but that’s not on you.”

I sighed, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, well, I thought I’d left all of that behind. Guess it’s harder to outrun than I thought.”

Daniel’s thumb gently brushed the back of my hand, his touch reassuring. “You’re not running anymore. You’re here, with me. And he can’t touch that.”

I met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words settle in my chest. There was something in the way he said it, in the way he was looking at me, that made me feel like everything was going to be okay. Like I wasn’t alone in dealing with this.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He smiled, a small, genuine smile that chased away the lingering tension. “You don’t have to thank me. I’ve got your back.”

We sat there for a moment, the café’s gentle hum returning as the intensity of Johnny’s presence faded. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time I’d be seeing him—or Carrie. They were still a part of this tangled mess, and somehow, I knew they wouldn’t let me move on that easily.

But with Daniel sitting across from me, his hand still in mine, I felt stronger. Like whatever came next, I wouldn’t be facing it alone.

Daniel leaned in with a playful grin. “You seriously dated that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “Like, in your songs, I thought you were being dramatic, but…” He trailed off, failing miserably as he attempted to imitate Johnny’s gruff accent, his voice cracking mid-sentence. “Oi, I’m Johnny, and I’m here to ruin your day,” he added with an exaggerated scowl, dramatically puffing out his chest.

I couldn’t help it. Laughter bubbled up from my chest, loud and unexpected, catching me off guard. It was the kind of laugh that made your stomach hurt, the kind that came out when you were least expecting it. Daniel’s terrible impression was so far off that it was hilarious, and for the first time today, I felt a little lighter. The knot in my chest loosened, and for a moment, the awkwardness of running into Johnny and Carrie faded away.

“Okay, okay, that was terrible,” I said, still laughing, wiping the corner of my eye. “But thank you. I needed that.”

Daniel grinned wide, obviously pleased with himself. “Glad to be of service, love,” he replied, his Australian drawl carrying the words in that easy, effortless way that made everything sound a little more charming than it should. He puffed his chest out again, still half-committed to the ridiculous Johnny impersonation. “Come on now, I thought I nailed it. Pretty sure Johnny sounds exactly like that.”

I shook my head, a smile still tugging at my lips. “Trust me, you’re way off. But, for the record, I think you just made him sound better than he deserves.” I raised an eyebrow playfully, feeling the lingering tension ease just a little more.

“Ah, well, it’s a talent, I suppose,” Daniel shot back, with a wink. “Making your exes sound like halfway decent humans. Maybe I’ve missed my calling.” He reached over, gently nudging my shoulder, and the warmth of his touch felt more grounding than I expected.

For a second, I just watched him, marveling at how easily he could turn the mood around, how quickly he could shift the energy in the room with just a few lighthearted comments. His accent—God, his accent—made everything sound smoother, softer, even when he was trying to joke around. I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to break through the storm cloud that had been hovering over me all day.

I couldn’t help but admire it. There was something about the way Daniel spoke that made me want to listen to him, to let myself be carried away by the sound of his voice. “You know,” I said, my smile lingering, “that accent of yours… it’s kind of unfair.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking mock-offended. “Unfair? You wound me, love. I thought it was my best asset.”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” I teased, tilting my head. “You could probably get away with saying anything and still sound charming.”

Daniel smirked, leaning back a little, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well then, I suppose I better be careful with my words, huh? Don’t want to waste this so-called ‘charm’ of mine on just anything.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t deny the smile that kept creeping up on me. “Too late. You’ve already wasted it on that horrendous Johnny impression.”

Daniel chuckled, leaning in closer, his grin still firmly in place. “Ah, but see, now I know my limits. No more terrible Johnny impressions—unless, of course, you ask for them.”

“Not a chance,” I shot back, shaking my head, though the playful glint in his eyes made it hard to keep a straight face. “I think I’ve suffered enough today, thank you very much.”

“Fair enough,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll stick to my strengths then—making you laugh and, apparently, charming my way through this conversation.”

I crossed my arms, leaning back against the bar, my gaze locking with his. “Is that what this is? A charm offensive?”

Daniel’s smirk deepened, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Well, it seems to be working, doesn’t it?”

I couldn’t argue with that. He had a way of lightening the mood, of making everything feel less… heavy. His presence was like a breath of fresh air, cutting through the lingering tension from my earlier run-in with Johnny and Carrie.

“You’ve got a point,” I admitted, trying to play it cool despite the fact that I could feel a blush creeping up my neck. “But don’t get too cocky. You’re only as charming as I let you be.”

“Oh, is that how it works?” Daniel asked, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt. “So, you’re saying I need your permission to be charming?”

I tilted my head, giving him a playful smile. “Something like that.”

He leaned in just a little, the space between us narrowing as his voice dropped to a low murmur. “Well then, I’ll just have to make sure I stay on your good side.”

For a moment, I felt the air shift between us, a subtle tension weaving its way through the playful banter. His eyes locked on mine, and for the first time, I noticed the way his gaze softened just a fraction, as if he wasn’t just joking anymore.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could find the words, Daniel’s smirk returned, breaking the moment with a wink. “What do you say? Think I’ve got a chance at staying charming for a while longer?”

I laughed, shaking my head, the tension easing back into lightheartedness. “We’ll see. You’re off to a decent start, though.”

“Good to know,” he said, his grin widening as he took a sip from his drink. “Guess I’ll just have to keep working at it then, won’t I?”

“Looks like it,” I replied, feeling a warmth settle in my chest that had nothing to do with the whiskey I’d been sipping. It was strange, how easy it was to talk to him, how natural the conversation felt.

Maybe it was the accent. Or maybe it was the way he made me forget about everything else, even if just for a little while.

Either way, I found myself wanting the moment to last just a little longer. The ease of being with Daniel, his playful charm, made everything feel lighter. We left the café, wandering toward the paddock, with the hum of the race world buzzing around us.

Suddenly, a group of teenage boys—five of them, no older than seventeen—approached us, all wearing different variations of Formula 1 gear. They were grinning like they’d just hit the jackpot.

“Y/N?” one of them asked, his voice cracking slightly, clearly nervous. “Is it really you?”

I blinked, taken aback. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

They exchanged excited looks, practically bouncing on the spot. “No way! We’re huge fans!” another boy chimed in. “We listen to your music all the time!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Teenage boys? Really? I mean, sure, I had a decent fan base, but I’d always pictured my listeners as mostly women around my age, maybe a few guys here and there. But these boys—decked out in their racing caps and track jackets—didn’t exactly scream “Y/N fan club.”

“Wait, seriously?” I asked, grinning. “You guys listen to my music?”

“Are you kidding?” one of them replied, his eyes wide. “Your last album? Fire. We’ve had it on repeat for weeks!”

The others nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “Yeah! ‘Falling Apart’—that’s our anthem, man. We play it before our soccer games to hype up.”

I laughed again, shaking my head in disbelief. “Well, I’m glad it gets you pumped.”

Daniel, who’d been silently observing with a smirk on his face, suddenly leaned closer to me, slipping effortlessly into his role as the comic relief. “You see that?” he said loudly, nudging me with his elbow. “Even teenage boys can’t resist your charm. Should I be worried?”

One of the boys looked between us, his eyes narrowing slightly as he realized what Daniel was implying. “Wait… are you two… like, a thing?”

Before I could respond, Daniel flashed a wicked grin and draped his arm over my shoulders. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, his accent making the words sound far more suggestive than necessary.

I elbowed him lightly in the ribs, rolling my eyes but unable to hide my smile. “Don’t listen to him,” I said, shaking my head at the boys. “He’s just messing with you.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Daniel continued, winking at me as if the boys weren’t even there. “I think they can see the chemistry. It’s undeniable, right, lads?”

The boys burst into laughter, clearly amused by Daniel’s antics. One of them, the tallest of the group, gave Daniel a playful thumbs-up. “Yeah, mate! You’re doing great!”

Daniel puffed out his chest, acting like he’d just been handed an award. “See? They approve. Guess I’m winning today.”

“Winning what exactly?” I asked, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow at him.

“Your heart, obviously,” Daniel shot back without missing a beat, his grin growing even wider.

I rolled my eyes again, but I couldn’t help the blush that crept up my neck. The boys all snickered like they were in on some private joke. This was turning into a full-blown comedy sketch, but to my surprise, I didn’t mind. In fact, I was kind of enjoying it.

“Alright, alright,” I said, laughing. “How about I sign something for you guys before Daniel’s ego gets too big?”

The boys eagerly handed me a couple of hats and a marker, still buzzing with excitement. As I scribbled my signature, they chatted excitedly among themselves about the race, about my music, and about Daniel’s antics, like we were all old friends.

When I handed back the hats, one of the boys asked, “So, are you gonna write a song about Formula 1 next?”

I chuckled, glancing sideways at Daniel. “Who knows? I’ve been getting a lot of inspiration lately.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, catching onto the innuendo. “Inspiration, huh? Does this inspiration happen to have a devilishly handsome accent and a knack for making terrible impressions?”

I smirked, giving him a playful shove. “Don’t flatter yourself. My inspiration doesn’t come from bad impressions.”

One of the boys, who had clearly been paying way too much attention, chimed in, “Oi, are you saying he’s not handsome? Because, like, I wouldn’t mind if someone called me devilishly handsome.”

Daniel burst out laughing. “Well, look at this guy! You’ve got some competition, Y/N. He’s coming for my title.”

I shook my head, but the whole group had descended into laughter. “Careful, Daniel. I think your reign as the charming one might be short-lived,” I teased, still grinning.

The boys exchanged exaggerated glances, clearly loving every moment. “We’ve got the charm too, you know!” another one of them piped up. “We listen to your music—‘Falling Apart’? Yeah, it’s practically our anthem, so that should earn us some points!”

“Ah, points system now? I see how it is.” Daniel folded his arms, looking mock-serious. “Alright, lads, who can do the best Y/N song impersonation? Whoever wins might just dethrone me as the most charming one here.”

Before I could object, the tallest boy cleared his throat dramatically, striking a pose that was almost too ridiculous to believe. “I got this,” he declared, then proceeded to belt out the chorus of Falling Apart with all the wrong notes, completely off-key, but with so much passion that it was impossible not to laugh.

The rest of the boys joined in, not with singing but with over-the-top interpretive dance moves that had nothing to do with the song at all. One of them even pretended to play an imaginary guitar solo, thrashing around like he was on stage at a rock concert.

I was doubled over in laughter at this point, tears in my eyes. “Oh my God, what is happening right now?” I gasped between fits of giggles.

Daniel wiped a fake tear from his cheek, trying to hold back his laughter. “I think we’ve just witnessed the most beautiful rendition of your song. I’m sorry, love, but I’ve officially been out-charmed.”

One of the boys puffed out his chest proudly. “Told ya, we’ve got the charm. Now, where’s our prize?”

“Prize?” Daniel asked, feigning confusion. “Mate, your prize is the satisfaction of knowing you’ve ruined one of Y/N’s greatest hits for her forever.”

The boys erupted in laughter, but one of them wasn’t quite done. “Wait, wait, I can do better!” He jumped forward, clearing his throat dramatically. “I’m Johnny, and I’m here to—” His attempt at an impression was so bad that he immediately started laughing halfway through.

I groaned, but I couldn’t stop laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “Oh no, not this again!”

Daniel, with his grin practically splitting his face, leaned in toward me, speaking loud enough for the boys to hear. “See, they’ve got nothing on my Johnny impression. I think I still win.”

I rolled my eyes, but the heat from his closeness wasn’t lost on me. “That’s a pretty low bar to clear,” I teased, trying to maintain my cool despite the way he was looking at me, like I was the only person in the world at that moment.

One of the boys noticed the shift in energy and grinned slyly. “Ooh, I see what’s happening here. You two are flirting! Caught in the act!”

Daniel placed a hand on his chest dramatically. “Flirting? With me? Surely not.”

“Can you blame her though?” another one chimed in, wagging his eyebrows. “I mean, with that accent…”

I let out a laugh that was part amusement, part embarrassment. “Alright, alright, enough of this! You’re all officially the worst hype men ever.”

Daniel, still enjoying the show, winked at the boys. “See, lads? She can’t resist my charm—neither can you, apparently.”

“We’re just trying to help you out, mate,” one of them said with a smirk. “You can thank us later.”

Daniel chuckled, leaning in even closer, that mischievous glint in his eyes only growing more intense. “Oh, trust me,” he said, his voice dropping just low enough for me to catch the playful tone, “I think I’ve already thanked her… once or twice.”

I froze for a split second, my eyes widening as I realized what he was hinting at. A quick glance at the boys confirmed that they had caught on too—one of them let out a loud, exaggerated gasp, while the others exchanged knowing looks.

“Ohhhhhh!” one of the boys practically shouted, his grin stretching from ear to ear. “Wait, man this is definitely is a thing, you can't deny it now!”

Another one interrupted, smirking as he threw in, “Sounds like someone’s been thanking her a little more than once.”

I felt my face heat up, the blush creeping up my neck as the teasing started in full force. “Guys—no, it’s not like that!” I tried to defend, but my stammering only fueled their amusement.

“Oh, sure, sure,” one of them said, clearly enjoying every second of this. “We totally believe you.”

Daniel, completely unfazed, leaned back with a satisfied smirk. “Don’t worry, lads, I’m a gentleman. I don’t kiss and tell.”

“You’re literally telling right now!” I shot back, my embarrassment only making the boys laugh harder.

“Wait, wait,” one of the boys interjected, barely holding back his laughter. “So, like… when you sing about late nights in your songs, is that about him?” He pointed at Daniel with mock seriousness.

“Yeah, is Daniel the muse?” another one chimed in, mimicking air quotes.

“Oh my God,” I groaned, hiding my face in my hands as the boys dissolved into laughter. “This is not happening right now.”

Daniel, ever the instigator, gave a mock-innocent shrug. “Hey, I didn’t say anything specific. You’re the one who’s giving them ideas.”

I shot him a look, trying to hide my smile. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here we are,” he replied, winking at me before turning back to the boys. “You lot are getting way too much joy out of this, by the way.”

“We can’t help it!” one of them exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “This is, like, the best day ever. Formula 1 and relationship gossip in the same day? We’re thriving!”

Another one crossed his arms, nodding sagely. “Yeah, it’s like our favorite artist just dropped a new track, and it’s all about a secret romance.”

“Oh God, don’t give them any more ideas,” I muttered, still blushing furiously.

“Too late!” one of the boys shot back. “I’m calling it now—next album’s gonna have a song called Thank You, Daniel.”

Daniel burst out laughing, clearly loving every second of this. “I’m not opposed,” he said with a grin. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Absolutely not,” I replied firmly, shaking my head even as I laughed.

“Come on, Y/N,” one of the boys teased. “You gotta admit, it’s catchy.”

“Yeah, and it could go something like…” another one started singing, completely off-key. “Thank you, Daniel, for the wild night we had…”

The rest of the boys immediately jumped in, adding to the absurdity of it all. They clapped and hollered, half-singing, half-laughing. “You swept me off my feet, oh yeah, Daniel, you complete me!”

I groaned, covering my face in my hands. “Please stop, this is painful.”

But they were on a roll now, clearly loving every second of tormenting me. Another one joined in, singing in a terrible falsetto, “Oh, Daniel, why’d you have to go and make me fall so hard?”

Daniel was barely holding it together, his laugh ringing out loud enough to draw a few curious glances from people passing by. He turned to me, shaking his head, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I think you’ve just been given your next hit, love. They’re writing it for you.”

I shot him a look, half-exasperated, half-amused. “This is not helping.”

Daniel chuckled, clearly enjoying the show. “Come on, Y/N. At least they’re being creative. They’ve even got choreography,” he said, gesturing toward one of the boys, who had started twirling around dramatically.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, still laughing despite myself. “This is officially out of control.”

One of the boys, apparently the self-proclaimed leader of the group, stepped forward with an exaggerated flourish. “You see, Y/N, we’re just trying to get you and Daniel to release a collab album. Think of the potential—‘Duets with Daniel!’ We’d be the first to buy it.”

“Yeah, we’ll even design the album cover!” another one added, miming holding a camera. “You, all serious with your guitar, and Daniel in the background with his race car and a rose between his teeth.”

I burst out laughing at the image they were painting, unable to take any of this seriously. “You guys are ridiculous,” I said, still shaking my head. “But I’ve gotta admit, you’ve got some... interesting ideas.”

Daniel, however, wasn’t about to let this moment pass without making it even worse for me. He leaned in close, lowering his voice just enough for the boys to hear but making it sound extra suggestive. “You know, Y/N, I’m not entirely opposed to a duet. I mean, we’ve already had one great performance together, haven’t we?”

I whipped around to glare at him, my cheeks burning. “Daniel—”

The boys absolutely lost it. “OOOOOH!” they chorused, practically falling over each other in laughter. One of them clapped his hands together, howling, “He said it! He went there!”

“Performance, huh?” one of them teased, waggling his eyebrows. “Oh, we definitely need to hear that track next.”

“Guys!” I exclaimed, feeling my face heat up even more. “It’s not like that!”

But Daniel wasn’t about to let me off the hook. “Oh, I dunno,” he said casually, shooting me a cheeky grin. “Depends on who you ask.”

I could feel my blush spreading down to my neck now, but I couldn’t help laughing at how absurd the whole situation had become. The boys were having the time of their lives, and Daniel—well, he was clearly loving every second of my flustered reaction.

“Okay, okay, we’re done,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “No more duet ideas, no more wild night theories. I think we’ve reached our quota for embarrassing moments today.”

One of the boys, still grinning from ear to ear, nodded sagely. “Alright, we’ll stop... for now.”

Another one, clearly still riding the high of the whole thing, added, “But just know, we’re expecting a wild new album soon. Maybe call it Songs from the Paddock.”

Daniel chuckled, nudging me playfully. “There’s your next hit, love. Courtesy of your biggest fans.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be sure to give you guys credit in the liner notes.”

The boys beamed as if I’d just promised them the world, and as they finally wandered off, still singing their ridiculous makeshift song, I let out a deep breath, glancing at Daniel.

“I can’t believe you,” I said, half-joking, half-serious. “You are way too good at making things awkward.”

He shrugged, grinning. “Hey, if I can make you blush like that, I consider it a win.”

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he said, echoing the same words he’d used earlier, with that damn grin still plastered on his face.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice softening despite myself. “Here I am.”

As we walked back toward the Red Bull garage, the cool breeze picked up, making me shiver slightly. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ignore it, but Daniel, ever observant, noticed right away.

“You cold, love?” he asked, already shrugging off his jacket before I could protest.

“No, I’m fine—” I started, but he cut me off, draping the jacket over my shoulders with a firm but gentle touch.

“There,” he said, adjusting it around me. “Can’t have you freezing on my watch.”

The jacket was warm and smelled faintly of him—something I couldn’t quite place, but it was comforting. I pulled it tighter around myself, feeling the fabric practically swallow me up. It was way too big, the sleeves hanging well past my hands and the collar brushing against my chin, but I didn’t mind. In fact, I kind of liked it. The way it enveloped me made me feel oddly safe, cocooned in something that was entirely his.

As I adjusted the jacket around my shoulders, I could feel his eyes on me. Not just a casual glance either—he was scanning me, his gaze slowly trailing over how the oversized jacket hugged my frame, his lips curving into a small, knowing smirk. Heat rushed to my face, and I could feel the blush creeping up my neck, spreading to my cheeks. I focused on tugging the sleeves, trying to act unaffected, but the way his eyes lingered left my pulse racing.

“You look good in my colors, you know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, the words sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

I blushed harder, feeling like the jacket wasn’t just covering me, but almost amplifying the attention he was giving me. I kept my head down for a second, pretending to fiddle with the zipper, but inside, my heart was doing somersaults.

I pulled the jacket tighter around myself, feeling his gaze still on me. Way too big, I thought. But in that moment, I kind of liked the way it made me feel—small, and maybe, just maybe, like I wasn’t so invisible to him after all.

Before I could say anything, he took my hands in his, rubbing them between his palms to warm them up. “Gotta make sure you’re properly taken care of,” he teased, his voice low and playful. “Can’t have you getting frostbite in front of the whole paddock.”

I laughed awkwardly, but the truth was, his hands felt so warm against mine that I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let him keep rubbing them, the casual intimacy of the gesture making my heart beat a little faster.

And then, out of nowhere, he pulled me into a hug. Tight. His arms wrapped around me as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like he’d done it a thousand times before. My face pressed against his chest, and I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the layers of fabric.

I stiffened at first, aware of all the people milling around us, some of whom were definitely watching. This was the paddock, after all—eyes were always on us. I could feel the stares, the curious glances from the crew members, the fans in the distance, even some of the drivers. But Daniel didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Daniel,” I muttered, trying to sound calm but utterly failing as my voice wavered. “Everyone’s watching…”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against the top of my head. “Let them watch,” he said, his tone light, but with an edge of seriousness. “I don’t mind.”

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “But I—”

He cut me off with a grin that sent a shiver down my spine, and not from the cold. “You look even cuter when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” he teased, brushing a stray piece of hair away from my face.

I felt my face burn even hotter. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said softly, leaning in just a little closer, “here we are.”

My heart pounded in my chest, confused by the swirl of emotions coursing through me. Was he serious? Was this just more of his playful flirting, or was there something more behind it?

Before I could untangle the thoughts running through my mind, he closed the gap between us and kissed me.

Sure we had kissed so many times the night prior, but there was something about today's kiss, that was so different. It wasn't rushed. It was gentle. It was sweet.

It was soft at first, almost like he was testing the waters, his lips brushing against mine in a way that made my breath hitch. The world seemed to pause around us, the only thing I could focus on was the feel of him—his warmth, the subtle scent of his skin, the steady pressure of his lips as they moved against mine. His kiss was gentle, like he wasn’t rushing but savoring the moment, allowing me to feel the full weight of it, as if this wasn’t just a casual flirtation.

For a second, my mind raced, shocked at the boldness of it, but my body reacted before my thoughts could catch up. I felt myself relax into him, every ounce of tension I’d been holding onto melting away as he pulled me closer. His hands slid up, warm and confident, until they found the back of my neck, his fingers threading through my hair. He held me gently, but there was a firmness to his grip that made my heart race even faster, grounding me in the moment, making it clear that this was no accident.

The kiss deepened, his lips pressing more firmly against mine now, and I melted—literally melted into him, my body softening as my hands instinctively gripped the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. My mind went blank, thoughts dissolving into the sensation of him, the way he tasted, the slow, deliberate way his mouth moved over mine, coaxing a response from me that I hadn’t even realized I was capable of.

I barely registered the fact that we were still in the middle of the paddock, surrounded by people who were definitely watching. But none of it mattered. The noise, the bustling crowd, the potential whispers—everything faded into the background, like static, as the world narrowed down to just the two of us. All I could focus on was the way his lips felt—warm and commanding, yet somehow soft, his breath mingling with mine in a way that made my head spin.

His body pressed against mine, and I could feel his heartbeat—steady, strong, completely unfazed by the fact that we were very much in public. Meanwhile, mine was racing like I’d just run a marathon, a nervous excitement coursing through me that left me breathless. His hand tightened slightly on the back of my neck, as if he didn’t want to let go, as if he was silently telling me, Stay here, with me, in this moment.

When he finally pulled away, it was gradual, his lips lingering on mine for just a beat longer, as if he wasn’t quite ready to break the connection. His forehead rested gently against mine, our breaths mingling, and I realized I was gasping for air, like I’d forgotten to breathe during the kiss. My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears that I could barely hear the scattered murmurs around us. My mind was spinning, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but nothing seemed to make sense except for him. The feel of him. The warmth still radiating between us.

“You alright there?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, though there was a softness in his eyes that made my stomach flip. His thumb brushed along my cheek, tender and intimate, the gesture sending a ripple of warmth through me. The smug look on his face made it clear that he knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on me.

I blinked, still trying to gather my scattered thoughts. “I… um… what?”

He grinned, clearly amused by my confusion. “I think I made my point,” he said, his voice dropping even lower, like we were sharing some kind of secret that no one else was privy to. His thumb traced a slow, deliberate path along my cheek before he finally stepped back, leaving me standing there, dazed and breathless, still reeling from the kiss.

The world around us started to come back into focus—people passing by, fans in the distance, the low hum of engines in the paddock. I could hear the murmurs, the whispers of those who had witnessed the entire thing. A few curious glances were thrown our way, but Daniel didn’t seem to care. In fact, he looked completely unbothered, as if kissing me in the middle of the paddock was the most natural thing in the world.

He winked at me, his grin still firmly in place as he turned toward the garage, his confidence as unshakable as ever. “You coming, love?” he called over his shoulder, acting like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, like he hadn’t just completely scrambled my brain with one kiss.

I stood there for a moment, trying to gather my bearings, still feeling the heat from his kiss lingering on my lips, the way his hands had cradled my neck so gently but possessively. My fingers absently brushed against my mouth, still tingling from where his lips had been, and my pulse quickened all over again.

What just happened?

I tried to replay the moment in my head, tried to figure out how something so simple as a kiss had turned my entire world upside down in a matter of seconds. And why, despite the embarrassment of being kissed in front of so many people, did I already want it to happen again?

My heart was still pounding as I looked up to see Daniel waiting for me, hands casually tucked in his pockets, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. He raised an eyebrow as if daring me to make the next move.

I swallowed hard, my thoughts still jumbled, but there was one thing I knew for sure: this day had just taken a turn I never saw coming.

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taglist: @gyarubunny

author's note: comment to be added to the taglist! i'll probably update after a few more fics about NEW DRIVERS (wow!)

[etherealnoir]

When a Black person who almost exclusively hangs out with/dates white people complains about being called whitewashed it’s just like…well yes.

You can date and hang out with whoever you want. No one can take your blackness from you. But also there’s a reason why you choose to exclusively hang out with white people lol Bringing attention to it by complaining about the optics feels like denial.

[norikuna]

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Talk to Me, I Talk Back

The Lads Men don't play about you HOWEVER COMMA you also don't play about them. [Requested by: Anon]

Zayne

You and Zayne were standing in line to order coffee. The line moved slowly and just as you two were up next some lady pushed in front of you, shoving Zayne into you.

MC: She don't see us?

Zayne: I'm sure she has her reasons for cutting

MC: She shoved you Zayne

Zayne: Let's not cause a scene in this cafe

MC: Frankly I don't give a damn

You stepped up bumping the lady with your hip hard. She tumbled off to the side nearly falling face first into the display case.

Stranger: Well excuse me!

MC: You're excused wait in line next time instead of shoving my man out of the way.

Zayne: So much for not causing a scene *pinching the bridge of his nose*

Rafayel

You decided to go on a walk with Rafayel because he wanted to clear his head before he started sketching. He spoke animatedly making big gestures with his hands and ended up accidentally knocking a passerby's phone from their hand.

Stranger: Hey asshole watch yourself!

Rafayel: Sorry ma'am it was an accident

Stranger: What if you broke it!?

MC: *picks up her phone* It landed in the grass without a scratch its fi-

The stranger snatched it from your hand. You draw back in shock and looked at Rafayel to make sure he was seeing this tomfoolery as well.

Rafayel: *whispering* stay calm

Stranger: Tell your boyfriend to be more careful!

MC: *Snatches the phone and slams it on the concrete* Maybe you should be more careful look at that you broke your phone

You grabbed Rafayels' wrist and pulled him along.

Rafayel: That was sexy ... I think I'm hard now

Xavier

You and Xavier stood outside of Jeremiahs flower shop trying to agree on somewhere to eat. Suddenly a stranger waddled up and shoved a stack of papers in Xaviers arms.

Stranger: Hand these out

Xavier: Uhhh

MC: You could ask a bit nicer don't you think?

Stranger: Shut up lady this is a conversation between men

You tucked your phone in your pocket, grabbed the stack of papers from Xavier and dropped them in the nearest trash can.

MC: Now your conversation is done let's go Xav

The stranger sputtered in disbelief as you dragged Xavier away.

Xavier: He probably just needed help

MC: Maybe he'll ask nicer next time and you need to stop letting random strangers make you hand out flyers

Xavier: It's hard to say no

MC: If I had a dollar for every time I found you handing out flyers I'd have two dollars...it's not a lot, but it’s insane that it happened twice.

Sylus

You were standing in line for checkout and Sylus sauntered over to you after you sent him back to grab a pair of jeans that you wanted.

Stranger: Uhm excuse me sir the line starts back there

MC: Oh he's with me

Stranger: I'm not talking to you I'm talking to this rude idiot

You look at Sylus who is giving this Karen a bored stare. You look around dramatically before looking up at Sylus in disbelief.

MC: Who is she talking to?

Sylus: Couldn't be us

You look back to the Karen who's red in the face with anger. You step around Sylus so you're face to face with this lady.

MC: Let's use our big girl brains here … if he's with me why would he stand at the back of the line?

Stranger: He cut the li-

You raised your hand to stop her.

MC: Your mouth is moving a lot like a rat shut it please

You finally get called to the next open register and Sylus leans down to whisper in your ear.

Sylus: You're feisty today ... you don't like seeing people be rude to me?

MC: She's lucky I didn't punch her in her jaw

Sylus: So violent, but I'm the cruel one?

[aennasan]

Jealous Papa to Baby Emi (Kenji Sato x Reader)

Synopsis: Yep. The title is basically the fic. I had so much fun with this that it became a bit longer than my usual drabbles and imagines.

🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷

Kenji Sato would never admit it but you know him well enough to say that he is a very jealous man.

However, right now, you are 100% sure that he would never admit it, especially because his number one source of jealousy is his very own kaiju daughter, Emi.

He is not even discreet in showing it. Watching him opening his secret fridge and pretending to count his coco water but his eyes and mind was never even tuned in on the task he had at hand.

His eyes kept straying to you and Emi while you're teaching her about human things. Scowling, lip pouting, and his body emitting a vibe yelling, “When’s me? I want to be next.”

You do your best not to notice or smile as his scowl deepens, he is so funny when he is like this.

At first, you thought he was jealous of Emi becoming a Mama’s girl.

The baby imitating the way you will put your hand on your hips if she’s being sassy, raising an eyebrow if his Papa overreacts about something, crosses her arm and rolls eyes if she's rebelling and the best of it all, is copying your crossed legs whenever you sit on the floor.

Yet, you found out that you were wrong when he suddenly wrapped his arm around your waist, nestled his face on the crook of your neck and asked, “How about Papa, Mama? When are you going to spend your time with me?”

It took you by surprise. And all his actions for the past few days are starting to make sense. His intense clinginess, to the point that he would find you wherever you are alone and wouldn't stop touching you. The way he wouldn't let go of a chance to have you sitting on his lap. Cuddling to the fullest before the baby wakes up crying. He would pout and grumble whenever you remove his hand from you.

Your mind goes “Ohhhhh” finally putting the puzzle pieces together, of his out of pocket intense change in showing his affection.

But before you could even answer, Emi is already throwing a tantrum because you turned your back on her while she was practicing and showing you her dance.

“Must be hard being so popular.” Professor Sato joked once when Kenji was busy scolding Emi for prying his arms away from you. She is scowling, head held high, as she crosses her arms, not looking at his Papa who is now yelling, “Bad girl! You don't act like that in front of your Papa!”

“It is harder knowing that the supposed to be eldest is the one who is acting like a kid.” You gave out a heartfelt chuckle and replied.

“Oh! For sure. He is used to having all the attention only to himself. He probably didn't expect that his competitor would be her own daughter.” He smiled as you two continued to watch their exchange which started to get hilarious the longer it takes.

“Baby, how about dinner, just the two of us, this weekend?” You asked the moment you caught his eyes, your hand resting on your hips, lips curved with a sly knowing smirk.

At first, he whipped his head down fast, immediately pretending to still be counting, while mouthing “Oooooh! I must have drunk a lot of augh….coco water.”

But when he heard the magic word, his head whipped up so fast and he started walking towards you like a dog being told “Do you want to go out?” by its owner.

“Really?” He asked. Purple eyes practically shining with hope and excitement.

“Yeah. I missed you. We haven't gone out together on a date for a while.” Your smile softened when he instinctively leaned forward on your hand when you reached for him to cup his face with pure longing and affection.

“Emi?”

“Professor Sato and Mina would take care of her for us.” You cannot help the way your heart flutters when you see his boyish grin which makes his whole face glow with happiness.

You swallowed the twinge of guilt in your heart when you realized how much he must have felt left out and neglected by you these past few days.

You promised that this weekend would just be about you two. The both of you will enjoy the time of your lives, alone together as you two watch the sun dips on the horizon, your head resting on his shoulder, back pressed comfortably on his chest, while his arms wrapped around you, and his hand playing with your palm. It will be relaxing and you melt just by imagining it.

Or so you two tried your best to compromise.

When Emi saw the both of you dressed to the nines— the plan was to just tell her to be a good girl and bid her goodbye before leaving, she probably felt something was wrong, and the moment the two of you stepped on the glass elevator, preparing to leave, she screamed and threw the biggest tantrum.

The whole building shook from her roar. Her feet kicked the floor so hard that you swore it felt like there was an earthquake.

You and Kenji tried to console her but she didn't stop until Kenji promised that you two are not going to leave and Mama and Papa are going to have a dinner date with Emi.

As if knowing she had won, the baby kaiju stopped immediately and gave out the biggest smile.

Yep, you had been fooled.

So now you found yourselves at the side of the beach. Sitting in front of each other with a candlelight dinner. The sky is a beautiful mix of red, orange, and yellow as it slowly dips on the horizon. The perfect color and atmosphere for a romantic dinner date by the beach.

Except, beside your table is Emi’s own table with her fish, who was happy and chirpy as she looked around. Just content to be with her Mama and Papa. Cheery to be included.

“Come on now. Stop scowling. You're going to age faster with those deep frowns on your forehead.” Joking, you cupped his cheek, reached out to his forehead, and ran your thumb to the lines formed from frustration wanting to smooth it out.

With a deep sigh, he leaned on your hand and his lips formed a long pout.

“But how about a dinner date with just the two of us?” He grumbled.

“Hmmm…I guess maybe we could do that once Emi grew a bit more.” You smiled.

“That will be too long.” He sighed. Exasperated.

“How about sneaking out whenever she is sleeping or busy watching your games?” You compromised.

“We can do that.” He hummed, grabbed your other hand resting on the table, squeezed and kissed the back of it.

Sensing that your attention is not on her, Emi stood up, and started clapping and dancing to the new dance she learned. Mina instantly played one of her favorite songs.

“Show off. Mama’s mine either way.” You let out a laugh when you heard Kenji speak in a hush tone not wanting the baby girl to hear it and had another of her tantrums.

[jaewritesfic]

Melon AU Part 4

Cass is quietly adamant that her new cling-on be taken to the Batcave, no matter the concerns Bruce raises.

If he's honest, his protests fall a little flat even to his own ears. The fact of the matter is that he looks at the midnight apparition she holds and just…can't bring himself to fight very hard.

The creature clings to her like a desperate child, claws curled into her cape in a way that's bound to leave holes. Bruce hasn't caught so much as a glimpse of the face since it grabbed onto Cass, head resolutely tucked into her shoulder. That long sinuous tail is wrapped around her waist and down one leg as if the slightest disconnect could wrench them fully apart.

She was right, it's scared and it needs help.

Bruce almost thinks convincing Commissioner Gordon to lift the police barricade at the end of the alley will be the difficult part, but he's proven wrong. Gordon is more than happy to foist the situation off onto the Bat colony, it's just a matter of figuring out actual transport.

It's not that Bruce doesn't want the creature in the Batmobile. It's that nobody is sure the creature will respond well to someone other than Cass being in proximity to it.

Bruce may be feeling distinctly sympathetic, but he's still not comfortable leaving his daughter totally alone with something strange, unknown and dangerous.

He doesn't want Cass alone with it - them. They probably won't respond well to anyone but Cass being close enough to be in a car with them.

Ultimately this culminates in Bruce pulling the Batmobile around and trying to be very. Very. Quiet.

The shadow creature hasn't raised their head from Cass’s shoulder once, so hopefully as she climbs in the back with her clingy cargo they won't notice they're not alone.

…nobody is going to claim this is a good or creative plan. It's kind of just the only option they can think of.

The creature clicks and whines as she climbs in, aware and nervous about the enclosed space probably, but they don't raise their head or move.

If anything they just wind themselves around Cass a little tighter.

“Shhhh,” Cass hushes gently. “Car. Take us to safe place. I promise.”

Bruce is used to her cowl enough to be able to tell she's glancing at him in the rear view mirror.

Thankfully, the Batmobile can autopilot to the cave. His presence is solely because he refuses to leave her alone with their new…guest. That means he can sign at her.

Did you get a better look at the injuries?

She shakes her head minutely. Hm. Bruce had feared that was the answer, considering how fast the creature had plastered themselves to her.

Do they seem to be losing a lot of blood?

A tiny shrug. Not a yes, not a no. Bleeding, but not gushing. Or maybe she's not sure how much without a visual, though if it was egregious she'd feel it even with the suit.

The heat of it, the slickness.

Bruce decides the shrug is a tentative good sign.

“Let's play questions,” Cass says suddenly, hands rubbing gentle, comforting back and forth patterns against a back so dark it looks like a void. “Nothing scary. Get to know you questions.”

There's no answer, but it doesn't seem to faze her. Of course not. She's Cass.

“Will you play? Tap once yes,” she says softly, tapping the creature's back with her index finger once, “And twice for no. No is okay. You can say no.”

There's a long moment where Bruce watches them in the rear view and nothing happens. Then Cass's cowl shifts in the way that means she's smiling.

“Thank you. Pronouns first, okay? One for she-”

She taps once.

“Two for he-”

She taps twice.

“Three for- oh. Thank you. Good boy. I'm she.”

The rest of the family exposes themselves as listening, quiet murmurs and exclamations over the comms at the new knowledge that their creature considers himself male.

Bruce isn't surprised that his kids have been listening with baited breath.

“From Gotham? One for yes, two for no.”

She hums softly, going back to petting his back gently.

“Me neither at first. Home now, like the back of my hand. Can show you all the best spots. Like burgers?”

There's a long pause. Bruce suspects the creature is having a hard time believing she's talking about and proposing such casual topics.

Eventually she smiles again. “Me too. Will buy you Batburger, I promise. Nectar of the gods.”

An odd little vibration goes through her new friend, audible as well as visible. It seems almost like a weak laugh.

“....bets on shadow noodle’s favorite Batburger order?” Dick asks over comms.

Bruce purses his lips not to huff in amusement. They're almost to the cave, he'd like to stay incognito until then. He wouldn't want to alarm any shadow noodles.

Masterpost

[thesecondhandwoman]

MORNING AFTER

Jinx x f!reader

Synopsis: After a night of a different type of fun with Jinx, you experienced a chaotic morning filled with reminders of the aftermath. Jinx made sure to make it worth the while for a day starter.

A/N: Just wanted to say that this does bring up some sexual content, but doesn’t go much further than that.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the weight of an arm slung across your waist. The next thing was the mop of blue hair splayed across the pillow next to you, messy and wild, and impossibly vibrant in the dim morning light filtering through the cracked blinds.

Jinx was still asleep, her face relaxed and peaceful, a stark contrast to the manic energy she usually carried around like a storm cloud. Her lips were slightly parted, a faint snore escaping every few breaths. You let yourself take her in, from the freckles scattered across her nose to the way her lashes cast soft shadows on her cheeks.

God, she was beautiful.

Last night had been a lot, but the best way. You weren’t sure whether you should be more surprised by how utterly chaotic she was or how gentle she could be when she wanted to. That duality was Jinx in a nutshell—always unpredictable, always keeping you on your toes.

Your movement must have disturbed her, because she let out a low groan, her pink eyes fluttering open. A lazy grin spread across her face when she saw you staring.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled, her voice raspy with sleep. “If it isn’t my favorite little snuggle buddy. Morning, sugarbomb.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her ridiculous nickname. “Morning, baby.”

She stretched like a cat, her body pressing against yours as she yawned dramatically. “So, was it everything you dreamed of?” she teased, waggling her eyebrows. “And more?”

You rolled your eyes, even as your cheeks burned. “You’re incorrigible.”

“That’s a big word for someone who was screaming my name a few hours ago.”

“Jinx!”

Her laughter was loud and unabashed as she flopped onto her back, one hand resting behind her head while the other reached for yours. She laced her fingers with yours, squeezing gently. Despite her teasing, there was a softness in her gaze that made your heart ache in the best way.

“I’m serious, though,” she said after a moment, her tone quieter. “You good? I didn’t, you know, go too far or anything?”

You squeezed her hand in return, touched by her concern. “I’m more than good, Jinx. Last night was amazing.”

Her grin returned, this time a little smug. “Damn right it was.”

You rolled your eyes again, but there was no hiding your smile.

She sat up suddenly, the sheets pooling around her waist, and turned to look at you with that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes. “You hungry? I’m starving. I could totally make us some breakfast.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Can you even cook?”

She gasped, clutching her chest like you’d mortally wounded her. “Excuse you, I’ll have you know I make a mean pancake. Probably. How hard can it be?”

“Oh no,” you groaned, but you couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up. “We’re going to burn the apartment down, aren’t we?”

“Only one way to find out!”

Before you could protest, Jinx was out of bed, stark naked and completely unbothered as she darted toward the kitchen. You buried your face in your hands, half-exasperated and half in awe of her sheer audacity.

A few minutes later, you followed her, wrapping yourself in one of the oversized shirts she’d stolen from some poor shopkeeper in the Undercity’s market. You found her rummaging through the cabinets, her hair somehow even messier than before, muttering to herself about flour and syrup.

“What’s the plan, Chef Jinx?” you asked, leaning against the counter with a smirk.

She turned to you with a proud smile, holding up a box of pancake mix like it was some kind of trophy. “We’re making breakfast! You handle the boring stuff like measuring, and I’ll do the fun part, aka flipping!”

“Uh-huh. And who’s cleaning up the mess?”

She winked at you. “That’s future Jinx’s problem.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic.

The next half hour was pure chaos, as expected. Jinx got flour everywhere, from the counters, to in her hair, and somehow even on the ceiling. She insisted on using way too much food coloring, so the pancakes ended up an alarming shade of neon pink. But they were edible, surprisingly, and the two of you ate on the floor of the kitchen, laughing and stealing bites from each other’s plates.

After breakfast, Jinx pulled you into her lap, wrapping her arms around you as she nuzzled into your neck. “You know,” she murmured, her voice soft and almost shy, “I like this whole thing, being able to wake up with you. Feels nice.”

You leaned back against her, your fingers tracing absent patterns on her arm. “I like it too.”

She was quiet for a moment, her grip on you tightening just slightly. Then, in true Jinx fashion, she broke the silence with a cheeky grin. “So, round two in the shower?”

You groaned, laughing despite yourself. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.”

She wasn’t wrong. She never really could be when it comes to you loving her.

A/N: I absolutely love jinx and her chaotic energy (I just hope I captured it well in this fanfic).

[halfvalid]

nobody but you

ABOUT

alternate title: the jealous character trope is actually kinda fun to write

rating: teen+

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!vinsmoke sanji | live action!straw hats ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

description: sanji flirts endlessly with you while dining at the baratie. zoro is displeased.

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, no use of 'y/n', establishment of relationship, flirting, alcohol consumption, pda

author’s note: i got like ~5 requests to write this so here you guys go! this was a popular one lmao. the story is a vague spinoff to my other fic pretty in that, but it doesn't have to be read to understand this one.

You’d volunteered to deal with the docking fees for the Going Merry, locking up the pirate ship as the rest of the crew entered Baratie. You were just five or so minutes late entering after the restaurant the rest of the Straw Hats had gone into. You’d never seen anything like it before—an eatery right in the middle of the ocean, in the shape of a giant fish. 

You stepped into the building cautiously, glancing around the wide expanse of the main room to try and catch a glimpse of your friends. The restaurant was big, with a mezzanine that you’d entered in and stairs leading down to the first floor. The host, a fishman who was standing at the reservation desk, glanced up to take a look at you. 

“Ah, you must be with the pirates,” he said pleasantly. “Right this way, miss.” 

You nodded, wondering how Luffy was intending on paying for the bill of such a place as you scoped out the area. It was far nicer than anything you would’ve expected—but then again, he’d somehow managed to score the Going Merry from Kaya back in Syrup Village, so you figured he’d work something out. 

Finally, you caught a glimpse of the rest of your crew, tucked away in a circular side booth that the fishman led you to. Luffy brightened upon seeing you, waving you over with a hand so excitedly you feared it was about to flop around like rubber. Considering his powers, that was a more than likely situation, actually. 

“Thank you,” you told the host, then turned towards your friends. “No food yet?” 

“You didn’t miss much,” Usopp said, a little snicker in his voice. “Just the waiter getting our drink orders. He was flirting the heck outta Nami.”

“Oh?” you asked, a smile flickering up your lips. The only open space in the table was between Zoro and Nami—you gave Zoro a confused look, and he gestured down to his swords, which were caught in the ledge between the chair and the wall. You snickered. “Ro. You’re such a loser.” 

“Shut up,” Zoro muttered, hand on your waist as you climbed over him to get to the empty seat. It stayed there for a moment longer, even after you’d arranged yourself in the seat, before he finally dropped his hand. Usopp made a face that you pointedly ignored. 

“What’d you guys order?” you asked instead. If there’d been a menu available, the waiter had probably taken it away; still, there wasn’t much variety in the East Blue, so you could expect there’d be a lot of seafood and not much else. 

“One of everything,” Luffy responded brightly. “So we’ll be able to try the whole menu!” 

“You sure that’s a good idea, Cap?” you asked, brows raised. Luffy shrugged. 

“I don’t see why not.”

“Quit it with the nickname,” Zoro muttered. Neither him or Nami had gotten any more receptive to it since you’d first started calling Luffy it. Usopp didn’t seem so keen on it either—if only because he fancied himself Captain Usopp. Luffy liked it, though, and that pleased you enough to keep using it.

“I’ll get you to start saying it eventually,” you teased, nudging Zoro in the arm. He shook his head, but there was a suggestion of a smile on his lips as he glanced away. “Just you wait.” You turned to Nami, eyes sparkling. “What about the waiter, though? Was he cute?” 

Usopp laughed at that, and Nami gave you a disparaging look. “Come on,” she started. “Not you too. Zoro was all—” 

The sound of footsteps cut off her speech, and you glanced up to find a lean, blond man pausing by the lip of your table. He held a silver plate, upon which perched a variety of different drinks—beers, milk, water. “Here are your drinks,” he said, voice lifting with an accent you couldn’t quite place. “And appetizers.” 

He had just finished placing the last of the drinks balancing on his forearm on the table when the waiter glanced up and registered you sitting there. His expression instantly changed, the crease of his mouth softening into a pleasant smile, his previously-dull blue eyes bright and sparkling. “Well, hello there. An addition?” 

“Yeah, sorry I’m late,” you said. The waiter flashed a grin, white ivories shining under the fluorescents.  

“Oh, absolutely no problem. They say those who are late are fashionable, and you, madam, certainly fit the bill,” the waiter said. Your eyes widened, glancing over to Nami to find her shaking her head, but the waiter didn’t stop there. “I’m Sanji. What can I get for you to drink? We’ve got a wide selection of fine wines that might suit your taste.” 

“Oh, um—” you started, glancing at the rest of your crew again. Usopp was hiding his snicker, and Nami was giving you a tired look. Assumedly this had been the man who’d tried it on her, too—to unfortunate ends, probably, considering how Nami was. Not that this would be any more effective on you. Your eye was already captured by a particular green-haired swordsman, after all. “I don’t really have anything in mind.”

Sanji looked pleased about that, clasping his hands together around his platter. “Ah, let me guess, then. A bayberry or red currant wine, perhaps? Fruity, tart, full of flavor.” he winked. “A feisty drink for a feisty girl.” 

“Can’t say I’ve tried it, but sure,” you said, the faintest smile on your lips. “I’ll let you know how I like it.” 

Sanji grinned, looking rather satisfied with that, a delighted little smile on his lips. “One red currant wine, then. I’ll have it right out. And would you also like to order a meal, or…” He glanced over at Luffy, presumably referencing your captain’s more-than-outrageous order. “Are you all set?” 

“I think we’re set, thanks,” you assured, and Sanji nodded. He flashed you another bright smile before turning on his heel back off to the kitchen. 

Usopp finally let out the laughter he’d been keeping in, choked sounds emitting from his throat as he thudded his chest with a fist. You rolled your eyes, but it was good-natured, letting Usopp laugh. 

“Well, at least I’m not being singled out,” Nami said with a sigh, and you exchanged a sympathetic glance with her. She patted your hand comfortingly, then scrutinized the water Sanji had gotten her. “At least he didn’t put it in a flute.” 

“Zoro, you’ve got competition!” Usopp called, still laughing from the entire ordeal. You glanced to your side, to where the swordsman sat. Zoro had stiffened sometime during the conversation, jaw clenched and arms wound tightly across his chest. He hadn’t even touched the beer that Sanji had set in front of him, eyes fixed carefully to a spot beside Luffy’s head and refusing to look over at you. 

“He’s a waiter,” Zoro said crisply. “He buses tables for a living.” With that, he grabbed his bottle, popping the tab and taking a swig. 

“I don’t know, man, did you see the way he took down those pirates?” Usopp turned to you, all excited again. “Oh, you missed this whole thing! Two pirates were fighting over a seat or something, and Sanji just demolished both of them! You would’ve loved it.” 

“He is a really good fighter,” Luffy agreed. Their words did nothing but seem to annoy Zoro further. 

“Can we not talk about the restaurant personnel? Surely you can think of more interesting topics of conversation.” His tone was sharp, and all icy, and you inched your hand closer to his leg to tap his thigh in question. He glanced down at your touch, but didn’t deign to say anything else. He just picked up his beer again, nursing it while the rest of the crew continued on with their conversation. 

Despite Luffy changing the subject, Zoro didn’t speak, and you kept peeking glances over at him in concern. Your feelings for him had just continued developing ever since Syrup Village, although neither of you had reasonably talked about the closet incident since it’d happened. What with the reveal of Kuro and the escape from the marines and all, there hadn’t exactly been time to. But you’d been on good terms, and the actions he made around you—pressing a hand to your waist as you moved past him, turning towards you first mid-conversation, shoving you down when the marines had fired their first cannon at the Going Merry. 

Before you could whisper to him and question what his silence was about, though, Sanji reappeared, carrying two platters filled to the brim with plates. They were laden with different types of meat and vegetables, sauces glinting under the light and hot steam still billowing. 

He set the dishes on the table, somehow managing to arrange them so they all fit on the countertop. Sanji set down the last plate then turned to you, placing a glass and a bottle of dark crimson wine on the table in front of you. He had to lean over Zoro to reach, and Zoro flinched, but still didn’t say anything as Sanji uncorked the bottle and poured you a glass. 

“Tell me what you think,” he said, all smiles again. “I’ll be embarrassed if it isn’t to your liking.”

You picked the glass up, swirling it carefully inside the glass before leaning down into the cup to take in a full sniff. You tilted your head back to take a small sip, moving the liquid around your mouth to fully savor the flavor before finally swallowing. The wine was sweet, light rather than rich with a delicate tartness that burst on your tongue. You glanced up just to see a giant grin had stretched up Sanji’s mouth, brightening his face up considerably. 

“What?” you asked. 

“Not often do I see a patron who knows how to taste wine properly,” Sanji answered with a little duck of his head. “A lady of class, I see. How do you like it?” 

“Not too strong. I like the tartness,” you answered. “A good recommendation. Thank you.” 

Sanji gave you a little bow, hand flourishing to the side as he dipped his head. “I live to serve.” 

“Yeah, well, why don’t you serve me another beer?” Zoro said abruptly. Usopp coughed, and you could see Nami elbow him out of your peripheral vision. Luffy just looked confused. 

Sanji’s face fell almost immediately after Zoro had spoken, his eyes flickering away from yours. “Of course. I’ll be right back,” he said, a tight smile at his lips. He ducked out of the booth, and Zoro let out an irritated noise, tongue flicking against from the roof of his mouth. 

Usopp snorted, fully this time, and you turned to glance over at him—he and Nami were both hiding their gazes, though you could see smiles cracked along their lips. 

Zoro glared at them. “Shut it.” 

“Not saying anything!” Usopp said, though he half-hid behind Luffy like Zoro was going to lunge over the table to get to him. That didn’t seem… entirely unlikely, actually; Zoro’s right hand rested firmly on the handle of one of his swords, fingers ready to pull the blade at any second. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, wanting to say something. But not in front of everyone else. It wouldn’t be appropriate, you decided. 

Eventually your meal wound down to an end. Zoro got less and less tense throughout it, though you were fairly certain that was due to the drinks he was having rather than any actual reassurance. Sanji, thankfully, came back with the bill in the middle of a conversation you really didn’t want to think about—Luffy and his marine grandfather was not something your mind wanted to dwell on—only for him to disappear again. 

Just moments later, a man with a braided mustache came storming out of the kitchen. Luffy did some more of his Luffy nonsense, and, honestly—you were getting too tired about all of this to pay any close attention. You spared a glance over at Zoro again. His face was as blank as ever.  

“Okay,” Usopp said slowly, a few delayed seconds after who’d undoubtedly been the head chef yanked Luffy out of his seat. “I’m ready to check out whatever’s outside. Let’s go.” 

“What about Luffy?” you asked, perplexed. 

“He’ll find his way out of that,” Nami said with a sigh. She stood up, knocking back the rest of her drink. Since she wasn’t exactly wrong, you got up, glancing over your shoulder at the last of the group that remained seated. “Zoro?” 

Zoro was staring into his now-empty bottle of beer. He still seemed off, the line of his mouth creased downwards, jaw set tight. “Yeah,” he said finally, standing to his full height and slipping out of the booth. He offered you a hand, helping you down from your seat, but said nothing more. 

The four of you headed out to the mouth of the Baratie fish, which boasted a bar decorated with neon lights. You found a place to sit by the fish’s bottom lip, and you turned in your seat, staring out at the sea. The water was dark with the night, peaceful ripples moving across the water that sent shimmering waves across the blue. 

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Usopp said. “Come, Nami?” 

“Huh?” Nami glanced up, and you turned to watch the exchange. “Oh, I’m okay, Usopp. Thanks, though.” 

“No,” Usopp insisted, a smile still pasted on his face as he jerked his head, not very discreetly, in your and Zoro’s direction. Nami seemed to realize, then, eyes going wide before she got up from her seat. 

“Actually, on second thought, I’ll join you,” she said, far smoother than Usopp had been. “God knows you don’t have any money to pay for a drink.”

She breezed past him, ignoring the offended gape Usopp left in her wake before he was scrambling to follow her. You turned your attention towards Zoro—he was lounging in the seat across from you, one hand on his swords with his legs crossed. “Hi,” you said carefully. 

He stiffened. “Hey.” 

You pursed your lips, mulling over the ways to go about the conversation before ultimately deciding to spit it out. “What’s wrong?” At his raised brow, you were prompted to continue— “During dinner. You were acting weird.”

Zoro shook his head, dropping his gaze from yours. You could see the faintest trace of freckles spattered along his cheeks, the yellow glow from the lanterns reflecting off his skin. “Nothing’s wrong. Just… the waiter.”

“The waiter,” you repeated. Zoro shifted, legs uncrossing and hand tightening around his swords again. His voice was low the next time he spoke, and you could barely hear him, having to lean forward to catch all of his words.

“He was flirting with you.” 

Your breath hitched, but you tried to keep your tone casual. “He was flirting with Nami too,” you said, glancing up to meet his eyes. Zoro still wouldn’t meet your gaze, staring out into the East Blue behind you. 

“That’s different.” Zoro’s eyes finally lifted, long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks as you met eyes. You shivered, gooseflesh suddenly prickling up everywhere on your skin—the back of your neck, up your spine, down your arms and legs. “I don’t like Nami.” 

You tilted your head to the side, meeting his gaze. The words sent a little rush through you; a rush you got practically every time Zoro looked in your direction, actually, which was only a little bit annoying. The amount of influence a man you’d known for, comparatively, not that long had over you had you rolling your eyes all the time, but… you trusted Zoro at this point, as uncooperative as he and Nami had been throughout your entire journey. 

“You’re jealous of a waiter.” 

“Don’t—” Zoro sighed. “Don’t put it like that.” 

“But it’s true. You’re jealous of a waiter,” you said, unblinking. Zoro rolled his eyes, teeth resting along his lower lip in an almost-bite. You snickered, tone sloping upwards to become more teasing, almost sarcastic. “How the mighty have fallen. From me practically begging you to say I looked nice in a dress to this.” 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Zoro said, uncrossing his legs to lean over and press his hand over your mouth. You laughed, surprised, as he leaned over you, eyes sparkling at the reaction. “Not another word.” 

He removed his hand, giving you a look. You betrayed his trust almost immediately. “Of a waiter.” 

“Do you want me to put the hand back?” Zoro threatened, but you were full-on laughing by now, and he couldn’t do anything but watch. The sounds escaped from your mouth, ringing out in soft, lively hiccups. He shook his head, hand falling to his side as he watched you, a ghost of a smile tugging up the side of his mouth. 

“Sorry, Ro,” you said, unable to suppress your grin even as your laughter died off. “It’s a little funny, you have to admit.” 

“I’d like to hear you talk if someone was flirting with me,” Zoro muttered, so quiet you could barely hear. You had to stifle another laugh. 

“Okay, well, unlike you, I don’t get territorial over people I haven’t even talked about my relationship with, but I appreciate it.” You nudged him. “It’s kinda cute.”

Zoro seemed lost in the first half of your sentence, and you could practically see the cogs whirring in his head. For a moment, you were worried that the closet had been a one-time thing—but no, he’d mentioned just earlier that he liked you, so clearly something else was the matter. 

Your worries were answered in just another moment. “...We’re supposed to talk about our relationship?”

“Zoro.” You gave him a look of disbelief, forced to suppress another laugh, though this time it was out of incredulity. “Yes. Have you ever dated anyone before?” 

Zoro made a face at that. “Keeping that to myself, thanks.” He dropped his chin, glancing down at where you were, still leaning over you so you were forced to crane your neck to stare up at him. He tilted his head to the side. “So what kind of talking are we supposed to be doing?” 

“You know, the establishment of being exclusive; a cementation of our feelings; what the relationship entails; where we want it to go…” You paused, watching as his eyes flickered down your face. Your words were going in one ear and out the other. “You’re not listening at all, huh.” 

“Not really,” Zoro said, not sounding very apologetic about it. His free hand came to cup the underside of your jaw, tilting your head up just so. “Is the talking really that necessary?” 

You shrugged, trying to keep your cool. “Eventually.” 

“Eventually,” he repeated, stretching out the syllables of the word as he quoted you. “So we can do it another day.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. “What were you thinking?”

Zoro was slotting his lips over yours before you could say another word, his fingers digging into the hinge of your jaw to allow him better access. You smiled into the kiss, lips curling upwards and open to let him lick into your mouth. 

It wasn’t too risqué, but Zoro took your breath away all the same, an appreciative murmur low in his throat as he kissed you. One of your hands wrapped around his wrist, tugging him insistently downwards so you could get a better angle at his mouth, sucking gently at his lower lip. He nearly stumbled, losing his center of gravity before steadying himself, one hand coming to rest on your ribcage as the kiss deepened. 

“Guys!” Usopp’s voice came somewhere from the right, high-pitched and excessively scandalized. You felt Zoro scoff into your mouth.

“You realize you’re in public, right?” Nami deadpanned, plopping down in the seat next to you. You nudged Zoro’s head away, his hand still on your jaw, half-craned over your figure. Nami looked unimpressed, eyes flickering from Zoro to you and back again. “Get a room. Go back to the Going Merry for all I care.” She extended a hand, placing a mug of beer on the table before you before handing you a matching one. “I got you drinks. You’re welcome.” 

“Thanks,” you said, leaning up to press one final kiss on Zoro’s lips before turning to take the glass Nami had outstretched. Usopp groaned, covering his eyes with one hand and lifting a giant cup of something with the other. It was so big you wondered how he’d even been able to carry it. You eyed him. “You’re going to pass out drinking that.” 

Usopp made a face at you. You just laughed. 

“Sorted out your issues with the waiter, then?” Nami asked, turning to fix a knowing look on Zoro. He rolled his eyes, effortless as ever as he settled back down into his seat. 

“Still don’t like the waiter.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, and Zoro scoffed, picking up the mug Nami had gotten him. You could see the smile behind the glass rim, though, even as he clearly tried to hide it, and matched it with one of your own. 

Zoro ducked his head to smile into his beer. Usopp made a gagging sound. “God,” Nami muttered, but their criticisms might as well have been deaf to your ears by then. 

All you could see was Zoro. 

© halfvalid 2023

[sadandyetverysexy]

Dp x Dc au: Normal is Good

Okay so hear me out— i see lots of “you can’t control Danny he’s a wild child” premises and like, I agree, I love that, but JUST hear me out. Danny who is just entranced by being treated like a NORMAL KID.

I think for best results this should be done with de-aged Danny so he’s a bit younger, but it can def work with regular Danny too.

Danny winds up running around Gotham for one reason or another doing INSANE SHIT to try and help or just survive and his family is out of the way. The explosion, Bad Fentons, etc— and one of the bats picks up Danny. This can be a dad!Jason, or dad!Dick, or classic Bruce Adoption. But they see this little shit running around and are like “no fucking way, not on my watch you little maniac”

Now, a lot of people use the “Jazz practically raised Danny” card, and I love that card and fully support it, but she was also a kid. With no other parents to consult. Who was raised by the Fentons originally and def has no clue what normal parents are like. So she probably didn’t exactly measure up to how a kid is MEANT to be raised. So Danny still had an incredibly strange childhood that just was Not Normal, but I feel like we see Danny with a deep desire to be normal. He doesn’t even really like being a superhero that much, he just wanted to be a kid.

So he gets bat adopted, and Danny is just functioning how he did growing up with the Fentons, which is No Restrictions Do What You Want. And then his bat dad (using Jason for this) is like “No. It’s Bed Time.” And Danny. Danny is ALL for that. He’s bewildered. Mystified. He’s not grumpy about being told what to do at ALL, because he’s just so shocked.

“You’re serious? You’re fucking dead-ass serious? It’s bed time? Oh my god this is so cool. I’ve never had a bed time before! This is great!” Because this is the first time he’s EVER been treated like a normal child by a parental figure. He just got sent to bed. Wow.

Having a parent who is in charge of keeping him healthy and actually enforces Danny taking care of himself is kind of cool.

“Eat your vegetables, they’re good for you.” And they won’t try to eat him back? Fuck yeah, he’ll eat his vegetables!

“No you aren’t allowed to go out at 2 in the morning, go back to bed, you have a doctors appointment for your yearly checkup tomorrow.” oh ancients, Danny has always heard other kids complain about not being allowed out at night, but to have himself told he can’t? This is so weird. And he’s never been to a yearly check up before!

“Brush your teeth before bed” “I can’t get cavities, I’m dead!” “Ya know, for some reason I don’t believe you. When was the last time you went to the dentist? Are you sure you can’t get them?” Danny has 7 cavities.

The first time Danny gets to actually use the “my dad said No” excuse, he is ECSTATIC. Jack and Maddie have LITERALLY never told him he can’t go out somewhere. Ever. He’s in a whole new world where he doesn’t have to fight ghosts, or be a hero, or anything and he loves it. He has a normal kids room without deadly weapons in it and normal kid hobbies and a fridge full of normal food and a parent who enforces a bed time, and it’s weird as hell and it’s great. Normal is pretty damn good, he has no clue what Sam and Tucker were always complaining about. Shits sweet.

[darnell-la]

Sub! Logan would be so fucking hot. And the way you write him is soo good! I'd love to see your ideas about how he would act as a sub.

note: we rushed this BUT we have more. better ones coming soon!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“Going to pearls,” a woman spoke as she got into his car. “What’s your name?” He asked to confirm. “Y/n,” she said. The man turned around, realizing that this young lady was alone.

Usually, he picks up a huge group. That’s why he has a limousine, but she’s alone and has no one on her guest list.

“You gonna drive, handsome?” Y/n asked. Logan quickly turned back around and began driving. He was surprised by the nickname, but he let it go. He’s been called everything by now.

Logan’s been driving for ten minutes, music low, and y/n looking out the window. He’s never felt this awkwardness because it wasn’t him and only one person in the car.

“So — Friends busy?” He asked. Y/n slowly turned her head, looking at the man in the mirror. “All canceled. As always,” she added before she looked back out of the window.

“Oh,” he said, feeling a bit bad. He could see she paid one hundred for every hour tonight, and he would be with her for six hours.

“I mean, I can talk to my job, probably give you a refund or somethin,” he said, feeling like he should help her in some way. Usually, the man couldn’t care less, but y/n’s a young woman going to a club alone.

“I’ll be fine — Guess all the drinks I bought will be for me,” she said in a low voice that pained Logan to hear. She seemed sweet, and her friends canceled out on her. All of them.

“What was this for? Like, tonight? What did you have planned for tonight?” He kept a conversation going which confused y/n. His profile says he preferred not to talk and that he wouldn’t talk first.

“Well, it’s kind of my birthday, so — Yeah,” y/n sighed. “Oh, well — Happy birthday?” He said, not knowing if it was appropriate. The woman giggled to herself at his attempt to make her feel better.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna drink? I’ve got plenty and I can’t leave with any bottles,” she said, pointing to the bottles on the table, all hard liquor and only one juice for a mixture.

“I kind of have to drive you back home,” Logan turned down her offer, which he’d never done before. “C’mon! It’s my birthday,” she smiled at the man as she raised a bottle for him to take.

Logan waved her off, wanting to be responsible and think about her life that could be at stake, but he still felt bad about the empty spaces on the couches.

“Fine, but only if you don’t report me,” he joked, making her laugh as she took a bottle herself. “Cheers to me and my only friend who showed up which is the bodyguard,” she raised her drink.

“Cheers,” the man chuckled before raising the drink to his lips. He watched the girl drink, thinking it would be a small amount like any young lady, but her — She had almost chugged half the bottle.

“Woah, bub — Don’t hurt yourself,” he said, making her roll her eyes playfully. “Oh, don’t be mad because I can drink more than you,” she said, wanting to have some kind of fun tonight. Getting her bodyguard drunk and then driving her home sounds like a fun story to tell.

“Trust me, y/n — You can’t,” he said, but y/n didn’t believe him. That was until he shrugged his shoulders and chugged the whole bottle. The expression across her face was stunned. She’s never seen anything like that before.

“What the fuck,” she whispered. “Yeah — Kinda my power,” he chuckled. The man turned around to start his job and stood outside of her closed section until she spoke.

“Wait! I-I’m kind of alone so I don’t mind if you — stay? Please, I kind of feel like shit,” she admitted. She told her friends she was completely fine about their cancellation, but she’s not. She lost a lot of money and her mood was talk.

Logan couldn’t turn the offer down just like the last, so he stayed. The two drank all night, finishing every last bottle. She even got him to dance with her which he wouldn’t have done with anyone else. He had no idea what’s gotten into him tonight.

“God, tonight was fun,” y/n said as the man turned the corner where her apartment was. “Yeah, it was,” Logan smiled as he took a quick look at the young lady who was now sitting in the passenger seat, body turned towards him.

“You don’t understand how much I appreciate you, Mister Logan. You were the best fun I’ve had in like years!” She admitted. He wasn’t scared to drink and dance like most of her friends were.

“You’re the most fun I’ve had in maybe forever,” Logan meant it, but she had no idea who this man was. She was too sad to notice when she first met him and now she’s too drunk to realize.

“Is there a way I can repay you? Maybe like a cup of tea? I don’t fuckin’ know,” y/n laughed with him. “I don’t know, hun, I kind of have to get back home,” he said.

“How far do you live from here?” She asked. “About thirty minutes,” he said. “Oh, no,” she gasped. He’d been drinking because of her, and now she was going to have him drive back and half an hour just to get him.

“Don’t worry, bub. I've been doin’ this a lot,” he said. “Yeah, but I’ll be stressed all night. Please, stay the night. I have a spare room? It’s the least I can do,” she said, sounding like a beg. “God, it’s hard to turn you down. Do you know that?” He said as y/n smiled.

Logan parked the car for the night before y/n got him situated in her spare room. “Still want tea?” She asked. “I think I’ll be fine, bub,” he said. “But a shot would due,” he added. He had seen the liquor drawer she had.

“Comin’ right up, handsome,” she said before walking off. As she did, he couldn’t help but watch her figure. He scanned her dress earlier, but she looked way better just now. Maybe it was the alcohol? He didn’t know.

“You always drink this much?” She asked. “Yeah, and you?” He asked as she handed him his shot before sitting next to him with hers. “As you can see,” she giggled.

“Cheers to a goodnight with a man I brought back from the club?” She couldn’t help herself. “Cheers,” the man downed the drink as he watched her. She’s looked so drinking…

“God, that it’s hard,” she shook her head. “Yeah,” he aimlessly said as he watched a drop of liquor roll down her lip. “Hey, c’mere,” the man said, softly turning her face before wiping the liquor from her mouth.

Y/n was shocked and silent, not knowing what to do after. That seemed so sweet, but at the same time, she was drunk out of her mind.

“They look pretty,” the man spoke, breaking the silence. His thumb grazed her bottom lip, loving the smooth feeling of them. “Really?” She asked low, feeling shy all of a sudden. She hasn’t been all night until now.

“Mhm hm,” he mumbled as he slowly leaned into her. She felt like she was in a trance the way she felt she needed to lean in. Her heart was raising until their lips touched.

At first, it was sweet and slow, maybe a little tongue but after they both opened and locked eyes, they couldn’t help it.

Y/n quickly hopped on top of Logan, now grinding on his hips as he held her up by her ass. The man was shocked at her aggression and dominance but couldn’t complain.

“You taste so good,” she said under her breath as she kissed him. “I’m glad I took you home,” she added before moving down to his neck. She felt this hard urge to mark the man she hardly knew.

“Fuck, y/n,” Logan moaned low. He knew his voice could go that high. Y/n hummed into his neck, sucking long and rough to make sure he was living here marked up.

“Can feel how hard you are. Bet you’ve been waiting for me to touch you all night, hm?” She asked, hands traveling down his stomach until she could palm his clothes cock.

“Mhm hm,” the man whined at her grip. “Words, baby,” she demanded in a soft voice. “Y-Yes, baby,” the man’s mouth went slack at her touch. “So good,” she said before pushing him down in the bed.

“Gonna be good for me tonight?” She asked as he nodded quickly. “Gonna be my birthday gift, baby?” Y/n had lifted her dress before fondling with his belt. “Yes, yes, I am,” he couldn’t hide his heavy breathing.

“Oh god — You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” Y/n pulled Logan’s cock out. He was heavy and huge. “Yes, I am,” he answered, wanting to be good for her. He wanted to make her proud. He wanted to make a woman he barely knew, proud.

“He looks hungry,” y/n stroked the man, watching his pre cum leak from the tip. Y/n spat on the man’s cock, making his eyes widen because no one has ever done that to him before. They’d just wrap their mouth around him or push him inside with no preparation.

“Gonna feel so good,” y/n lifted her hips before sliding all the way down in one go. “F-Fuck,” the man cried out, his already bucking up into her.

“Fuck — Could you be my bodyguard every night?” She jokingly asked but the man nodded back so quickly, she thought about it. Maybe he isn’t too bad. He was fun tonight. He could be fun every night.

“Gonna let me wet you every night, baby?” Y/n asked as she leaned down on his body. “Fuck, yes — I wanna be with you every night,” the man’s hips moved slightly up into y/n, causing her to clench around him from how deep he gets.

“How old are you again, baby?” Y/n asked. “Two hundred,” the man’s hands gripped y/n’s ass, not thinking about his response. “A man with a sense of humor — So hot,”

Y/n rolled her hips, grinding on the man to feel every thick and long inch in her. The way his skin rubbed her walls, made her squeeze around him. He was close but felt embarrassed about how short he was going to last.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” Y/n asked, seeing the man bite his lip, trying to focus on holding back. “C’mon — I want you to fill me,” y/n whispered in his ear before giving it a light slick.

“Fuck,” the man let out a shaky moan as his legs shook. “C’mon, baby — Cum in me,” y/n began bouncing in the man’s cock, feeling him twitch inside her. She just knew he was going to give her a big and well-needed load.

“C’mon,” y/n rode him harder, filling the room with their skin slapping against each other and her wet cunt coating his cock. “I’m cumming!” Logan warned through his teeth as his hips bucked upwards a few times.

Y/n kept riding him, mixing his seed inside of her until she felt like she had enough. “So fuckin’ good, baby. I wonder if you taste you,” y/n spoke, feeling the urge to suck him dry.

“Fuck, it’s too much,” the old man said, grilling her hips a bit tight so she could slow down, but she wouldn’t. “Oh, really?” She asked, feeling the knot grow in her stomach. She was so close.

“God- Fuck — I can’t take it, baby,” Logan tried begging her. “Yes, you can. Just a few more seconds, baby. You think you can do that?” She asked, looking into Logan’s eyes. They were glossy and full of lust.

The man nodded his head with a shaky hum, feeling the need to cum again. “Good boy,” she spoke as she leaned up, rocking her hips back and forth until she couldn’t anymore.

Y/n released on the man, earning a whine from him. After she came, he couldn’t hold himself in. He had come inside of her again. For the second time.

“Oh god,” y/n breathed out, feeling so full. “S-Sorry,” the man shook as she leaned in front of his face, hands rubbing his cheek. “Wanna feel more of you,” she said.

The man was shocked at how many times this woman could go, but he didn’t want to disappoint her. He wanted to pleasure her and make her happy. He tried to be good for her. And he was for the whole night and many more.

[amirasainz]

Can we please have more of little alonso? Like when she was born and nando holding her for the first time and the grid are confused where he is?

Or before the grid official meeting her, nanda showing them pictures of her and telling them about something cute she did.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💚

The newest dad on the grid

Fernando stepped into the paddock for the first time in weeks, his signature confident strut unchanged, but there was something different about him—an energy, a spark, a glow even. The break he had taken from the Formula 1 season to welcome his daughter had rejuvenated him in ways no victory lap could. The paddock, buzzing with its usual pre-race fervor, quieted as drivers spotted Fernando.

“Nando!” came a shout from Charles, who jogged over with a huge grin. “Welcome back! How’s... the baby?!” His face lit up like a kid waiting to hear about Christmas morning.

Max, never far from Charles, joined with a smirk. “Yeah, Fernando, how’s fatherhood treating you? You look—different. Happier, even.”

Fernando chuckled, patting both of them on the shoulders. “Ah, much better than any race, I can tell you that. Yn, my little girl, she’s perfect.”

George approached next, Lewis in tow. “Alright, alright, hold on,” George said, adjusting his perfectly tailored shirt. “Are we finally going to see pictures of this famous Yn? Because the way everyone’s been talking, she’s already an icon.”

“Wait, don’t start without me!” Lando called, sprinting over, followed by Oscar, Carlos, and Pierre. The group was forming faster than a DRS train on a straight.

Fernando, laughing at the commotion, pulled out his phone. “Okay, okay, calm down. Let me show you.” He unlocked the screen and turned it toward them. The photo he showed was of a tiny baby swaddled in a soft pink blanket, her big brown eyes staring up at the camera with curiosity and innocence.

“OH MY GOD,” Lando exclaimed, practically squealing. “She’s adorable!”

“Look at those cheeks!” Charles leaned in closer, his face nearly pressed against the screen. “She’s like a tiny angel! I bet you can't stop kissing them.”

“She has your eyes,” Lewis said softly, his warm smile matching the tone of his voice.

Fernando puffed out his chest, clearly basking in the praise. “She does, doesn’t she? And she already loves motorsport. When I hold her and talk about racing, she doesn’t cry. She just listens.”

Max snorted. “Fernando, she’s like two weeks old. She probably just likes your voice.”

“She’s already your biggest fan, mate,” Carlos interjected with a proud grin. “Don’t listen to Max.”

Fernando swiped to another photo. This time, Yn was asleep, her tiny fist wrapped around Fernando’s finger. The group collectively let out a chorus of “Awwww!”

“She’s so small!” Pierre said, his voice unusually soft. “Like, her hand is smaller than your finger! How do you even handle her without being terrified?”

“It’s instinct,” Fernando replied with a shrug, though the softness in his voice betrayed his own awe. “The moment I held her for the first time, everything clicked. She’s everything now.”

As Fernando flipped through more pictures—Yn in a tiny onesie with a Formula 1 logo, Yn sleeping on his chest during a nap—the drivers grew more animated.

“Does she have a favorite team yet?” Lando teased, nudging Carlos.

“Obviously Aston Martin,” Carlos quipped. “She knows where her dad is.”

Fernando raised a finger. “Actually, she smiles the most when I hum the Spanish anthem.”

“Of course she does,” George said with a laugh. “Your baby, your rules.”

“Does she cry a lot?” Oscar asked shyly.

“Only when she’s hungry or tired,” Fernando said proudly. “She’s very calm otherwise. I think she’ll grow up to be very composed, like her father.”

“Yeah, sure,” Max muttered under his breath, earning a playful shove from Lewis.

The group continued to coo over the photos, and even the normally reserved drivers couldn’t resist commenting. Esteban smiled as he observed from a distance but eventually joined in, congratulating Fernando.

“You should bring her to a race one day,” Charles suggested.

“Yeah,” Lando added enthusiastically. “Imagine a tiny Alonso in the paddock, stealing everyone’s hearts.”

Fernando grinned. “Maybe one day. But for now, she’s better off at home with her mamá. She needs to be calm, not surrounded by all this chaos.”

As the drivers dispersed, Fernando was left with a lingering feeling of warmth. The camaraderie of the paddock had always been special, but now, as a father, he felt it even more deeply. Yn wasn’t just his world; she had somehow become part of theirs too.

Later, during the drivers' press conference, a journalist asked Fernando how it felt to be back after his short break.

“It feels amazing,” he said, his smile unshakeable. “But not as amazing as being a father. Yn is my inspiration now. Every lap, every corner—I’m racing for her.”

The other drivers in the room exchanged knowing smiles. Fernando Alonso, the fierce competitor, had softened in the best possible way. Fatherhood suited him, and they were all here for it.

[natasharswifey]

Happy birthday, by the way 🎂

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Requests open <3

Summary: After a few months of dating, you realise you don't know when Nat's birthday is. She isn't interested in celebrating, and when you ask, she refuses to tell you. But you are very determined.

____☆____

A/N: This is just a little fluff, also my first x reader fic. Love reading em so I thought I'd give it a go :3. Also I find it hard to read Y/N as my name so I'm using [...] instead!

Tags: Just fluff <3

____☆____

"Oh, come on, why won't you just admit it?"

"Because I can't deal with you inviting half of the United States to the tower for a party."

"Exaggeration."

Natasha raises a brow at you. "Oh really? And what about he time you put flyers around about Wanda's party?"

"She was turning 21!"

She gives you a 'really?' look and you know you aren't getting anything out of her. It just didn't make any sense, birthdays were the one day a year where it was all about you. Well that's everyday if you're Tony Stark, but for well functioning members of society it should count as the best day of the year.

"I will not be disclosing that information until I can trust you not to make a huge deal."

"What if I pinky promise?"

"You always overdo it, detka, it's just how you are." She plants a small kiss on your forehead and leaves you on the couch to begin plotting.

___♡___

"And then she said 'you always overdo it', give me a break!"

Wanda looks up from the pot she's stirring and chuckles, "I didn't know half the people the showed up at the tower on my 21st, [.....]"

"I knew I should've gone to Tony, he would get this."

"I don't think asking the most flamboyant Avenger would be very helpful in this situation."

"Right."

"I think you should just leave it, she'll probably tell you eventually." She gently taps a bit of salt into the pot.

"Or..."

"No."

"You didn't even hear me out!"

"I can read minds. It's a terrible idea."

"Firstly, reading Nat's mind to figure out her birthday is literally a flawless plan, and secondly, you're good reading my mind and not hers?"

"Natasha already set her boundaries with me, and plus I don't feel like getting my ass kicked for aiding and abetting."

"Thanks a lot Wands."

"Any time."

If Wanda wasn't going to cooperate then you were simply going to have to enlist the help of a certain blonde assassin.

___♡___

You hear Lucky and Fanny barking hysterically after you ring the doorbell, followed by fast paced footsteps and a small "One minute" from the other side of the door.

Usually a simple question would only warrant a text or phone call, but for some reason Yelena NEVER answers her phone. Unless it's from Kate of course, you're half convinced that she has a special ringtone and notification for her.

It's none other than the archer that answers the door, "Hey, [.....]! I didn't know you were coming over."

"I've actually dropped in unannounced, but I won't stay too long." You reassure her. Kate has a habit of forgetting things, including scheduled hang outs and honestly everything else that isn't attached to her body.

"Come on in!" She steps out of the way and shuts the door behind both of you.

You're immediately greeted by the two large dogs, fighting over your attention in a confusion of wagging tails and paws. Kate tries to get them under control and ultimately fails until they're distracted by Yelena calling them.

"That's totally not fair, they only listen to you." Kate complains and Yelena laughs.

"Because they love me more."

"Lies and deception!" Kate is soon distracted by the golden retriever pulling at her sleeve and gives Yelena a smug look before pouring all of her attention to him.

"Hey, Yelena."

"Hello, [......]. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Uh, I actually had a quick question. When's Natasha’s birthday?"

"Ah. I do not know."

"What?? But you're sisters!"

She shrugs, "She does not want me to know. Birthdays are not really Natasha’s thing, surely you must know that."

"Yeah, I know, it just doesn't make any sense."

"That's Natasha for you."

You sigh in defeat and sit down on one of the armchairs, your lap immediately occupied by Fanny who still wholeheartedly believes she's the size of a puppy.

"Well, there is someone else you could ask."

Your ears perk up, "Who?"

"Melina."

Ah. Melina. It wouldn't be fair to say that she hated you, but it also would be lying to say that she was fond of you. Perhaps you could ask Alexei instead.

___♡___

"Hello? Can you hear me?" You ask over the phone to your future father in law.

"HELLO? ARE YOU THERE, [......]?"

"Yeah, I'm-"

"I THINK MY WHATISUP IS BROKEN- MELINA!"

"No, no, Alexei there's really no need."

You hear the sound of footsteps and Melina scolding Alexei for always forgetting to turn up the volume before she picks up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Ah, hello Melina."

"[........]. Do you need something?"

"When's Natasha’s birthday?"

"December third. Is that all?"

"But- that's today."

"I'm aware."

"Well, thank yo-" The phone cuts off before you finish your sentence and you're left with about two hours to plan a surprise party for a spy.

___♡___

"I did it, Wanda!"

"Only took you half the day."

"Okay, hater, I need you to help me surprise her."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"One hundered percent." You reply confidently. For most of the day you'd been discouraged, but now it was time for you to trust your gut.

Soon enough you've formed a team of Kate, Yelena and Wanda gathered in one of the common rooms of the tower.

"Alright, Wanda you can be in charge of snacks, Kate you can do decorations, and Yelena you can find us the cake."

"Can-"

"No it may not have profanities on it."

The blonde sighs but jumps into action with the other two. Now all you have to do is buy them some time.

___♡___

You greet Natasha at the tower's entrance with a huge smile plastered on your face.

"Hi, Nat!"

"Hey, [.......]. How was your day?"

"A little hectic. Wanna go for a walk?"

"I would love to but I need to sleep for at least ten hours straight."

You step in front of Natasha as she starts to head inside, "Wait- Uh, did you know walking actually improves energy levels?"

Natasha raises an eyebrow, "What's up with you?"

"Nothing."

"For some strange reason I do not believe that." She holds you in place by your shoulders and steps around you, but you take her arm and try to steer her to the kitchen, your plans are foiled by Lucky and Fanny who bound up to Natasha happily.

"What are Yelena and Kate's kids doing here? Seriously, what is going on?"

"Uhh."

"Insightful."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She stares you down for a few seconds before suddenly moving towards your shared quarters and only speeds up once she realises you're trying to stop her.

The red head clears the stairs in a few seconds and opens the door, only to be met with pitch black. When she steps through and flicks on the light Wanda, Yelena and Kate jump out from behind the couch and yell "Surprise!".

The look on her face is priceless when she turns to you, "How- when did you-"

"I have my ways."

Natasha pulls you into a tight hug and you hug her back even tighter when you feel a small damp patch forming on your shoulder.

___♡___

"Okay, now make a wish!" Yelena says excitedly, the three of you are crowded around the table where the birthday girl sits in front of her cake.

"Alright, alright." She closes her eyes and blows out the candles, which prompts a cheer from everyone in the room.

The five of you all squish onto the couch to watch a movie and eat snacks and cake, with Natasha curled into your side.

"So, did I 'overdo' it?" You ask playfully.

You hear her chuckle, "It was perfect."

____☆____

Tysm for readinggg, If you liked it I have more stuff in my masterlist :)). Reqs are open!!

Also, if you saw the unfinished version of this when I posted it by accident, no you did not.

@l0nelyish 👁👁

[queenpiranhadon]

what are your thoughts on katsuki's reaction when he finds out his partner has the same spice tolerance as him...

A/N: Oh, anon don't worry I have MORE than just thoughts... I actually love this prompt so I'm gonna write it a little differently than usual :) Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader likes spicy food, second or third year-ish, fluff, pre-established relationship, standard partner nicknames are used - dummy, babe, baby, etc, reader is gn but is written with f!reader in mind, double dates but it's just silly goofy

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader, Mina Ashido x Ejiro Kirishima

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴡᴀꜱᴀʙɪ ─────•°•☁︎•°•────•

So from your wording, Bakugou finds out about your spice preferences at some point during your relationship, instead of before, which I don't think is as plausible because of his insane perception skills (he probably knows more about you than even you do before you guys even start dating- my man is a closeted nerd and you can't convince me otherwise). But if he did find out while you two were dating, the outcome would be hilarious.

Let's say you're in the UA dorms, whether you're in the hero course on not, you're just chilling in the kitchen waiting for your boyfriend to meet you downstairs. Class 1-A loves you a ton, and even though they tease you and Bakugou a lot, you both end up having a lot of Netflix and chill dates in the common room since the TV there has a shit ton of streaming services.

You put down your phone, sighing, and decide to be a little more productive instead- making your way to the common room to pick out a movie. It was tradition, between you, Katsuki, Kirishima and Mina to watch movies together every now and then as a double date- something Katsuki was adverse to but you knew he secretly enjoyed the chaos that ensued whenever the four of you were together- also realizing that if they weren't in his line of sight, they'd probably end up blowing up the dorms by accident anyways. He'd only said this once though, face turning bright red as you teasingly called him a mother hen.

Mina and Kirishima had started dating a few months ago (you and Katsuki had celebrated your 1 year anniversary two weeks prior to it ) and being the friend group you were, who could pass up an opportunity?. Kirishima and Katsuki very best friends, as were you and Mina, so it was a no-brainer that the four of you would have regular get togethers like this in the first place. You thought it was nice, seeing Katsuki interact with his friends as he relaxed, even if only a little, around his close friends.

You settle yourself down in the plush couch across from the TV screen, and feel the cushions dip as a new weight is added, seeing Mina Ashido plopping down next to you.

"Movie night!" she cheers, and she nudges you with her shoulder. "Some day we gotta ditch the boys and get through a movie marathon together- I swear Eji has the worst taste in movies, if I have to watch another Star Wa-"

"Hey! My taste isn't that bad!" Kirishima whines, coming up behind the both of you with Katsuki in tow. "Plus you keep asking to watch those K-dramas that get your mascara running."

Mina raises an eyebrow. "Eji, you cry more than I do during those."

Katsuki sighs and raises his hand in an attempt for peace. "Oi, shut yer mouths and go grab the pillows and blankets. Y/N and I will order food and pick out the movie."

Mina groans but relents, looking at you pleadingly. "Please chose a good movie - no ‘to be continued’s PLEASE"."

You snort, remembering how one time Kirishima had chosen Captain America: The Winter Soldier, which prompted the four of you to binge the entire MCU on a day without classes.

Scrolling through movies, you decide to choose a classic- the Matrix, something action packed enough to keep Kirishima (and Katsuki's) attention, and something with enough romance to keep Mina hooked.

As you navigate through the countless streaming services, Katsuki's voice pops up behind you.

"Oi, babe what do ya want to eat? Got some rolls dipped in wasabi for myself...I already know Shitty Hair's gonna ask for some chicken wings- an I got some tacos for Pinky cause I know she was whinin about cravin Mexican food earlier..."" He trails off, embarrassed when you grin knowingly in his direction.

You decide to be merciful though, shrugging and returning back to the TV. "I know very well that you're going to order from three different places just so all of us get what we want so I'll just share with you." you smile, and Bakugou's heart thumps softly from your thoughtfulness.

"Tch- whatever dummy. What do ya want in them- I know my rolls are pretty fuckin spicy - avocado, shrimp, cr-" He asks, but you cut his off with a bewildered look.

"What? Why wouldn't I get it with wasabi??" You ask dumbfounded. "That's like 85% of the flavor - plus it's kinda boring without it." you say, and your boyfriend's jaw drops open- as if you'd told him you were pregnant of something.

"Marry me."

You want to burst out in giggles, but stop when you see the deadass look on his face.

"Kats-"

"Jesus Christ baby, of all the shit ya hide from me, ya hide the most important one?!" He asks incredulously and that's when you start laughing.

"If ya told me this shit sooner I would've asked yer ass out the moment I met ya."

[allmoshnobrain]

You're a short girl, and sometimes that messes with your confidence. Your boyfriend doesn't seem to care at all, though.

✦ on this fic: simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader, fluff, reader is short and it makes her a bit insecure

✦ a/n: this is my first time writing for anything other than metallica/megadeth/venom which is what i usually write for but i've been daydreaming a lot about this man and needed to get this out of my system 😭 also it was a great way to warm up and start writing again after my break!! hope u guys enjoy it 💖

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It takes him a while to pick up on your insecurity.

It's subtle, and honestly, he’s not exactly great with subtle. He fails, at first, to catch the way you pout, the way you frown whenever you see a hot actress who’s taller than you, or a long dress you think would look better on someone with a few more inches.

He finally catches on, though, one night when you’re cooking dinner. It’s kind of a slip up, really — a tiring day and your period cramps the worst they’ve been in the last few hours just making it easier for you to get upset over the smallest thing. So when you can’t reach one of the trays on the top shelf and have to ask him to grab it, he turns around to see you teary-eyed and upset, which is not how this usually goes.

“Love?” he asks, his brow furrowing when he sees your state “What’s wrong?” He glances at the glass tray in his hands. “Did I grab the wrong one?”

“What? No, no, it’s fine,” you mutter, his confused look quickly shifting into worry when he notices the tears in your eyes.

“Hey,” he quickly puts the tray down and gently grabs your chin. “Talk to me. What is it?”

He’s firm, straightforward but not harsh, which just makes you feel even more ridiculous for almost crying over something so dumb.

“I’m being silly,” you say, but he shakes his head. 

“Don’t say that,” he mutters. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

That last part sounds almost like a command, his voice all firm and serious — something that would probably annoy you if he didn’t sound so genuinely concerned. You sigh.

“I wish I was taller,” you whisper, hoping he wouldn’t hear it, but he does. Of course he does.

“You wish you were taller?” he repeats, now more confused than worried. “Why?”

“I just don’t want to feel useless, always needing your help,” you half-lie, because that’s not really it.  And of course, Simon knows — he always does. You can tell by the way he raises his eyebrow slightly at you, disarming you instantly. “I wish I was prettier,” you finally mutter.

“You are pretty,” he says slowly, like he’s still trying to figure out where all this is coming from. “You’re beautiful. And I like helping you.”

“But tall girls are… More beautiful,” you sniffle, and he snorts.

“Who said that?”

“I said,” you frown. “Like, every time I see a cute dress that’s too long, I just think I can’t wear it. It won’t look right on me. I always feel like I can only look cute, but sometimes I want to look, I don’t know, gorgeous. Tall girls just always seem to look gorgeous to me, and I...”

“Oh, shush,” Simon grumbles, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He tilts your chin up gently so you’re looking at him. “You are gorgeous. And you’re beautiful, and you’re mine. And I like you small — easier to hold.”

You can’t help but laugh. It’s shaky, and you try to hold it back, wanting to stay in your little pity party a bit longer. I mean, seriously, what does he mean by "you’re gorgeous" when you feel the exact opposite?

"Easier to hold?" you say, trying to sound offended but failing as a giggle slips out.

"There she is," he hums, kissing the corner of your mouth, and that’s when you realize you’re smiling. "My girl. Don’t be upset, love. You don’t need to be taller to be pretty. And if you ever need to reach for something, well, that’s what I’m here for."

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” you tease. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

“Goddammit, woman. Will you quit trying to convince me you’re not beautiful? It’s not happening,” he frowns, then leans in, pressing a small, tender kiss to your lips. His arms wrapped around you are comfortable, warm and firm and feel like home.

It never fails to disarm you, how soft he can be. Out of the blue, always when you’re not really expecting it. Just when you think you’ve finally managed to annoy him or maybe this is the time he’s gonna get tired of you. He never fails to prove you wrong. 

He never fails to prove that he loves you, just the way you are.

[joostsblog]

joost klein x fem!reader who has a thing for his hands? loving when his hands wander all around her body.. fingering her during a pre-party then dragging her to hus room to finish the poor girl off both of them competing in eurovision

maybe joost even whispering things in her ear.. lots of neck kisses and reader wakes up in the morning neck, thighs, collarbones basically her whole body having hickeys ☺️

tysm if u do this

here you go :)

the one about his hands and also waking up covered in hickeys ~ joost klein smut

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x fem!eurovision contestant!reader

Description: Only fantasising about Joost's hands just isn't enough. You need to get the fellow eurovision contestant to actually touch you where you need to be touched.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: in this version of eurovision no drama is happening, no dq etc, everything is just nice ❣️ i'm leaving for vacation tomorrow (to the netherlands actually lmao) so i probably won't be able to write anything for two week, i'm sorry babes :( filling up my inbox with requests, thoughts, feedback etc is still encouraged tho 💌

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, SMUT, nsfw, fingering (f receiving), protected sex, piv, swearing, consumption of cigarettes, not proofread

His hands were the first thing you noticed about the man. The way he held out his hand in front of you, greeting you with a handshake (which you thought was a bit odd). His hand felt firm yet gentle in yours and you couldn't help but admire the digits tattooed on his fingers.

"Nice to meet you," he had smiled at you and your heart had fluttered just a bit.

Your quick infatuation with Joost and his hands really was poorly timed. You were at eurovision to represent your country and you were supposed to be on your best behaviour. Absolutely no distractions allowed. Too bad thoughts of the blonde dutch man doing ungodly things to you kept intruding into your mind.

So you really shouldn't be spending as much time with him as you did. Always finding an excuse to talk to him in between rehearsals or at breakfast (your favourite because it meant you saw Joost's messy hair in the morning and maybe sometimes you imagined your hands were the ones responsible for that). Your vocal coach would be furious with you if she found out that you had been starting to sneak off with Joost whenever he went for a smoke. Just talking and laughing with him as you watched him smoke. Always paying close attention to those hands when he lifted one of them to his mouth to take a drag in between sentences.

"I think I might be a bad influence on you," he said. "You need to take care of your pretty voice," he mused with a smirk and you swear you caught him eyeing you up and down.

"Don't worry about me, I'm already corrupted," you joked.

"Really, how so?" Joost asked with a grin.

You watched as Joost took another drag, his cigarette delicately placed between his fingers. Oh, what those hands could be capable of doing to you. You couldn't help but let your thoughts wander off again. You wondered how his hands would feel on your hips if you were sat on his lap, his hands guiding you to grind against him. How his hands would feel in your hair, pulling on it while his mouth would kiss along your neck. How his hands would on your throat while he would thrust into you. How his fingers would feel slowly pumping inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

Joost raised an eyebrow when he noticed your absent state.

"You will have to find out," you said smirking.

"Mysterious, I like it," Joost said and finished off his cigarette. "After you," he said after he opened the door. You walked past Joost and your hands lightly brushed against Joost's. Shivers on down your spine.

You decided that maybe the only solution to your problem was to actually get into Joost's pants. Because then all your thoughts and fantasies about the man wouldn't have to plague your mind anymore when they would become reality. So you decided you would do anything in your power to achieve your goal.

~

You were sitting across Joost in a waiting area. He was handsomely dressed in that black jacket with the dark europe tie and his glasses with the thick brims. His fingers were nervously playing with the cord of his headphones. He looked ravishing. You crossed your legs which caused your thighs to be on full display with the short skirt you were wearing. You hoped Joost would notice and maybe also think about how his hands would feel so good on your thighs (and other places also).

"Excited for tonight?" you asked Joost.

"Huh?" he asked confused.

"The semifinals preparty," you reminded him.

"Oh, yeah," he nodded as he remembered. "Are you gonna be there?" he asked.

"Only if you're there," you said and Joost smiled.

"Then I'll be there, anything for you," he said.

"Anything?" you asked cheekily. Joost narrowed his eyes at you and gave you a grin.

"You will have to find out."

~

Joost's eyes immediately landed on you as you saw him enter the party. You were swaying your hips to the beat, hands up in the air as you enjoyed yourself on the dancefloor. You grinned at Joost and he didn't need to be told twice as he made his way over to you. You wrapped your arms around Joost's neck to hug him hello, still swaying to the music. Instead of hugging you, Joost put his hands on your hips and smiled at you as he probably assumed you wanted to dance with him. You didn't complain. The thin fabric of your skirt didn't serve much as a barrier between your skin and Joost's grip and still you wished the skirt was gone. Your fingertips cautiously dipped into the hair at the nape of Joost's neck and Joost responded by pulling you closer to him. It still wasn't close enough. Joost leaned down to whisper into your ear.

"You look very nice," his breath ghosted over the skin on your neck and your breath hitched.

"You do too," you said and it was almost sweet. You needed to get him out of here as fast as possible. "You wanna go for a smoke?" you proposed.

"I don't have any cigs left," Joost said.

"I think I saw a cigarette vending machine in the lady's restroom," you said and took Joost's hand in yours to lead him through the crowd. As you reached the door to the restroom you could feel Joost hesitating. "Don't worry, there's no one inside," you said and scurried through the door frame. The door closed behind Joost and the music was reduced to some sounds in the distance. Beside the vanity was the vending machine you had spoken of.

"This is a condom vending machine," Joost stated.

"Oh," you giggled. You took out a euro from your purse and proceeded to buy one condom. "Well," you said as you took the condom from the slot. "There's always other vices you could indulge in instead," you smirked at him.

"What are you proposing?" Joost asked, his hand leaning against the wall beside you.

"What does it sound like I'm proposing?" you looked up at him, condom in hand.

Joost took the condom from your fingers and put it in his pocket before he leaned down and his lips crashed into yours. His right hand held the back of your head, the other grabbed you by your hips. Your lips hungrily moved in sync with each other before they opened and your tongues met. Your arms wrapped around Joost to pull his body closer to yours. You wanted him to feel your breasts pressed against his chest. You sighed into the kiss as you could tell that this kiss alone wouldn't satiate either of you. You blindly reached for the door of one of the stalls and pushed it open before you both stumbled into it.

You broke off the kiss briefly to lock the door of the stall, Joost's mouth eagerly kissing along your neck instead. His hands were resting on your waist, slowly pushing up the fabric of your top to reveal your stomach. You were pressed against the wall of the bathroom stall, not an inch left between you. Joost's lips found yours again. You opened your legs slightly so Joost's leg could slip in between yours. His right hand trailed down your hip until it rested on your upper thigh. You couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hip against Joost's thigh as vivid images of him fucking into you flickered through your mind. You moaned against Joost's lips as you desperately needed to make your wants known.

"I- I- I need," you tried to get out in between kisses. "I need you."

"You got me," Joost murmured against your skin as he kissed down your neck again. "Don't worry, m’en meisje."

His hand ghosted up your thigh and pushed up the hem of your skirt. Your arousal was hot with anticipation. As his hand reached your panties his fingers softly grazed over the fabric right where your clit was. Your hips bucked lightly and Joost grinned against the skin of your neck.

"So eager," Joost tutted.

His fingers carefully pushed your panties to the side until his fingers could dip into your folds. Your head fell back and you bit into your lip to stifle any moans you otherwise would have let out if you two were in private.

Your folds were slick with arousal eliminating any friction as Joost's fingers started circling your clit.

"You're so wet for me," Joost whispered against your ear. Your hands were desperately grabbing onto his shoulders, keeping yourself upright as your knees buckled. Joost's other hand was resting by your side, keeping you close to him. "So ready for me," he said, voice as soft as ever.

Joost stopped circling your clit and you almost let out a groan in frustration. His fingers inched closer to your entrance until they slipped inside of you. Your mouth slacked open, eyes tightly squeezed shut and Joost's hand caressing your side. Your nails dug into Joost's skin as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you.

"You feel so good," Joost murmured against your ear. "I bet you would feel so good around my cock." You let out a loud moan as his words triggered your vivid fantasy. "Would you like that?" Joost grinned against your skin. "Me fucking you properly?"

"God, Joost," you could only whimper.

"God, you're barely holding it together," Joost whispered. "You're so good for me," he said as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you.

Suddenly you could hear the restroom door fling open and the voices of two women enter. Joost swiftly pressed his hand on top of your mouth but still continued moving his fingers inside of you. Your mind didn't even register what the voices outside the bathroom stall were talking about as all your mind was occupied with was Joost. Your body was trembling and you did everything in your power to keep yourself from orgasming right then and there as you knew that you would not be able to keep quiet through it. Joost pressed gentle kisses to the skin on your neck as your heavy breathing only intensified.

A few moments later the door closed and you were alone again. Just as you were about to allow yourself to climax Joost withdrew his fingers from you, leaving you trembling uncontrollably.

"Pleaseplease, Joost please," you could only press out. Joost's hand caressed your side and his lips trailed along your neck.

"Sshhh, mijn lieverd," Joost shushed, slowly brushing your hair behind your ear. "I need you to be a little bit more patient," he looked at you fondly. "I'm gonna take you back to my room and we're gonna do this properly." You let out a frustrated groan. You could feel your slick arousal almost dripping down your legs. Joost smoothed down your skirt and top (and his own pants that hid his raging boner) and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "Come on," Joost said with a grin, his hand held out for you to take as you still stood there dumbfounded.

Reluctantly you took Joost's hand and let yourself be led outside the restroom. You didn't take too many steps before you noticed Mona, one of the stylists on your delegation come up to you.

"(Y/N)!" she hugged you. "How are you?" Mona asked and you just stared at her blankly for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I'm good," you managed to sound out. Mona raised her eyebrows amused.

"Are you drunk? I thought they didn't serve alcohol here," she laughed. Joost looked at you with a knowing smirk.

"Aaaww, she's just a little exhausted," Joost saved you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders playfully. "I was just gonna walk her to her room."

"Oh yeah, she probably just needs some rest," Mona agreed. "We need her on her best game tomorrow," she joked and squeezed your shoulder lightly. "See you tomorrow!"

"See you," you smiled weakly as Mona walked away. Joost giggled beside you. "Shut up," you said and rammed your elbow into his ribs.

"Alright, let's get out of here."

Joost could barely close the hotel room door behind him before your lips were attacking each other again. Hands quickly roaming each other's bodies, grabbing onto any piece of clothing you could get a hold of to get rid of it. Joost's t-shirt was the first to go, swiftly followed by your top and bra. Your fingers fiddled with Joost's belt as the back of your knees hit the bed and you fell on it. You lay on top of it, only your short skirt covering you. Joost grinned down at you, observing your body spread out in front of him as he unbuckled his belt and took off his pants before he joined you on the bed.

You anticipated his lips to press onto yours again but instead, they found your neck again. His hands held onto your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried them in his hair, softly massaging his scalp. As Joost situationed himself in between your legs you could feel his hard-on press against your vulva through the fabric of your clothes. You let out a moan and Joost hummed approvingly against your skin as you could finally voice your lust for him.

Joost's mouth slowly moved down to your collarbones, alternating between peppering your skin with kisses and sucking at it. His fingers found the hem of your skirt and as he kissed along down your body he pulled the skirt down as well until you were only left in your panties. Your chest was heaving with how heavy your breathing was, anticipating Joost's next move. You let out a groan as his lips connected with the skin of your inner thighs.

"Stop being such a tease," you groaned and Joost grinned against your skin. Joost's fingers hooked in your panties before he finally pulled them down.

"What is it that you want, mijn lieverd?" Joost asked innocently.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you moaned frustrated. "I want you to fuck me finally."

"With pleasure."

Joost got up from the bed and you watched as he got rid of his underwear and you admired his length.

"Hurry," you nagged and Joost rolled his eyes with a soft laugh before he put on the condom you had bought earlier and got back in bed.

"So needy," he tutted, his lips just softly grazing yours. You held onto Joost's shoulders, his hand holding the side of your face before he slowly pushed into you. Your eyes momentarily blacked out as the pleasure spread throughout your body. Joost grunted against your skin also being lost to the pleasure. "So good for me," he praised and you wondered how much longer you would be able to keep it together.

He started slowly moving in and out of you. The slow rhythm, your hands in his hair and his lips pressed to your neck made all of this almost romantic. You wrapped your legs around Joost's hips to help him penetrate into you even deeper. With your hands in his hair, you grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head from where he was still kissing your neck until his lips found yours again. You moaned into the messy open-mouthed kiss before you softly pulled his hair again to make him look at you.

"Harder," you begged and Joost grinned at you.

Joost snaked his arm around your body to keep you in place, your bodies almost pressed against each other before he started pounding into you. Your nails dug into the skin on Joost's back as the moans tumbled out of your mouth uncontrollably. With each thrust, you were edging closer to your orgasm as Joost hit all the right spots inside of you. The sounds Joost was letting out of his mouth were heavenly, his grip on you dominant yet caring.

"You feel so good," Joost grunted and the sound of his voice pushed you over the edge.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath hitched and your muscles clenched until the wave of pleasure crashed down over you and you came with a series of obscene moans. As you were still riding out your high you noticed Joost's thrust becoming slopier and his moans louder until he came with stuttering hips and plopped down beside you.

You looked at each other breathing heavily and both let out a soft laugh. Joost lifted his arm to invite you to cuddle up to him. You rested your head on Joost's shoulder, your fingers softly drawing along the lines of Joost's tattoo on the side of his stomach.

"Was this okay?" Joost asked. "Are you okay?"

"Of course," you smiled. "This was perfect."

~

The ringing of your alarm on your phone woke you two up in the morning. Your limbs were entangled with Joost's, his heartbeat steady where your hand was laid on his chest. Joost rubbed his eyes, his hair messy and you never saw him look any cuter.

"What's this?" he complained before you got out of bed to turn off your alarm. As you turned around to face Joost again you noticed his eyes widen in shock. You stopped.

"What's up?" you asked blushing as Joost stared at your naked body. Confused you looked down your body and let out a gasp. "Fuck fuck fuck," you whispered, your hand in front of your lips. "This is bad." You sat down on the edge of the bed and you could feel Joost shift behind you to get closer to you. You looked down at your thighs which were littered in pink and purple hickeys. You desperately rubbed your fingers over them as if doing that could help you get rid of them.

"Oh, liefde," Joost said, his hand cautiously resting on your waist. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," you laughed unconvincingly, trying to calm yourself down. Joost's fingers softly grazed your collarbones and you looked down only to discover even more hickeys. "Oh god," you groaned.

"On your neck as well," Joost said meekly.

You put your face into your hands and cursed yourself for having chosen a very revealing stage outfit. "It's fine," you actually laughed this time.

"Are you sure?" Joost looked at you like a puppy who had just been caught breaking an expensive vase.

"Yes," you said and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Nothing some good foundation and an impromptu costume change can fix," you said although you already dreaded what you would have to tell your delegation about those hickeys. You leaned forward to gently kiss Joost's lips. "It was worth it," you said after pulling back and Joost gave you the proudest sweetest smile you had ever seen. Definitely worth it.