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A Cowgirl's Stars, Stripes, and Speed (!black-!cowgirl-!singer x dr3) (C1)

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 (20.6K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩z profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

author's note: i desperately had to write a daniel ff, because a) the austin grand prix is nearing and b) i'm terribly sad about his sudden departure. daniel, we all love you so much and wish the best for you! remember to #fea (f' 'em all) <3

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Austin, Texas had nothing on me.

The dingy little bar — well, to me it was dingy because it was the family bar — was dimly lit, with neon signs casting a faint, almost ghostly glow across the weathered wooden walls. The low hum of chatter mixed with the clink of glasses, and even though it was nearing midnight, the place had only gotten busier. Crowds swayed to the twang of a fiddle in the background, boots stomping across the sticky floor. Outside, the summer heat still clung to the air, making the inside feel close and hazy, like the walls were holding in the laughter and stories of the night.

I’d played more shows here than I could count, my boots leaving their mark on the same stage where my granddaddy used to strum his guitar. Most nights felt predictable, but this one felt different, like the air was charged with something I couldn’t put my finger on.

I wasn’t much for Formula 1 — Texas rodeos and horse racing were more my speed — but I knew every year when the race came through Austin, our little bar saw a wave of tourists eager for a taste of country. And tonight, as I leaned against the bar nursing my bourbon, the buzz of unfamiliar accents swirled around me, a reminder that the city had filled up with people from all over the world, looking for thrills in the dust and heat of Texas.

"Y/N, baby, why don’t you get up there and play a few songs?" my mom said, wiping her hands on a towel as she leaned over the bar. Her voice was soft, but that familiar nudge was behind it — the kind that never really left room for much argument.

I hesitated, swirling the last bit of bourbon in my glass. “I don’t know, Mama... it’s packed tonight,” I replied, glancing around at the sea of faces — mostly tourists, loud and unfamiliar. “Besides, they’re not here for me. Just here for a taste of Texas, right? A rodeo queen, not a country girl with a guitar.”

Mama raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “You’ve got more than a taste of Texas in you. Those folks would be lucky to hear what you can do. You know that.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of her words settle in. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to play — hell, I’d been singing since I could talk and playing guitar since I was old enough to hold one. But growing up Black in a part of Texas where faces like ours weren’t the norm? That always added a little extra pressure.

Even though our family had earned our place here, built up the bar and our name through years of hard work and music passed down through generations, it never really felt like the eyes watching me were just listening to the music. They were measuring us.

But over the years, we’d carved out a space for ourselves. This bar wasn’t just another honky-tonk; it was ours, The Dusty Rose, and people knew us for more than the color of our skin. Mama’s voice, my granddaddy’s songs, and the family’s grit had earned us some respect in this town. Enough that people came back, year after year, to hear us sing, drink our whiskey, and pretend for a while that we were all part of the same big Texas story.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight, with so many new faces and voices in the crowd, I wasn’t sure I had the courage to step up. I glanced down at my guitar leaning against the wall, its strings worn and familiar, waiting for me like it always did.

Mama’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Y/N, you’ve got the talent and the heart. Don’t let anyone else tell you different. You’re gonna get up there and remind them why they keep coming back.”

I wanted to believe her, I really did. But I wasn’t sure if tonight was the night to take on the weight of all those eyes.

I took a deep breath, running my fingers along the worn edge of my glass before setting it down with a soft clink. “Alright, Mama,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Guess it’s time to remind these folks why The Dusty Rose has lasted this long.”

Mama smiled, that proud, knowing smile she always gave me. I stood up, the familiar click of my cowboy boots echoing on the wooden floor, a steady rhythm that matched my heartbeat. Without another word, I slung my guitar over my shoulder, the weight of it settling comfortably against my back, like an old friend. The crowd was a blur of faces as I walked toward the stage, my pulse steadying with every step.

As I stepped up, I saw Orville already seated behind his drum kit, twirling a stick between his fingers with that lazy confidence of his. His bright blonde hair stuck out in every direction, his face splashed with freckles that made him look like a mischievous kid, though he was older than me by a good ten years. He looked up, grinning wide. “Well, I’ll be damned, look who’s finally decided to grace us with her presence. You plannin’ on singin’ or just standin’ there lookin’ pretty, Y/N?” he teased, tapping his snare for effect.

“Could do both, Orville,” I shot back, my nerves melting a little under the familiar banter.

To the right of him, Clyde was leaning over the keys, his cowboy hat tipped low over his brow. With a name like Clyde and a deep Southern drawl that stretched out his words for days, he was about as country as they came. He looked up at me with a slow nod. “Ain’t no time like midnight for a little serenadin’, huh?” he drawled, cracking a toothy grin. “Folks gonna think you’re singin’ ‘em to bed.”

Then there was Gus, seated on the stool, strumming a lazy rhythm on the bass. He had a scruffy beard, worn jeans, and the kind of build that said he spent just as much time on a ranch as he did on stage. Gus tilted his head and gave me a half-smile. “Late night’s when the magic happens, darlin’. ‘Sides, these tourists don’t know country music 'til they hear it this time of night.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The boys had been with me long enough to know my patterns, and teasing me for wanting to sing so late was their way of easing my nerves. We’d known each other since grade school — back when Orville was the kid who drummed on lunch tables, Clyde would belt out country tunes during recess, and Gus would pluck at strings made of rubber bands, pretending he had a bass in his hands. Now that we were twenty-two, somehow, we still hadn’t split up. Through all the ups and downs, we stuck together, always finding our way back to this stage.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, strumming a few soft chords to tune my guitar, “you all just wait. We’re about to remind this bar why they keep coming back.”

Orville gave his drums a little roll, Clyde’s fingers hovered over the keys, and Gus plucked the bass with a steady beat, all of them waiting on me to start. It was like second nature, this rhythm we shared, a connection built over years of shared songs and late-night jams.

I took one more deep breath, feeling the energy of the room shift toward the stage, my nerves steadying under the soft glow of the spotlight. Time to show them what The Dusty Rose was really about — and remind myself why we never gave up on this.

I stomped my boots on the worn wooden floor, the solid thud cutting through the clamor of the bar. A few heads turned first, followed by more, until the low murmur of voices quieted down after a couple of cheerful whistles and claps from the regulars.

I stepped up to the mic, adjusting the strap of my guitar on my shoulder. “Hey y’all,” I started, my voice carrying over the room. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Y/N. I’m a small singer-songwriter, born and raised right here in Austin.”

Before I could say another word, Gus chuckled from his spot behind me. “Small, my ass. She’s an enigma, and she’s selling herself short, y’all!”

The room rumbled with a few laughs, and I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as I blushed, turning around to swat him gently on the shoulder. “Gus, you’re lucky I don’t throw my boot at you,” I teased, shaking my head before turning back to the crowd.

“Alright, alright, don’t listen to him,” I said with a smile. “I wanted to play a song tonight that’s a little personal. One I wrote not too long ago... when I found my boyfriend — who, funny enough, was also in the band — cheating on me with my best friend, who used to sing backup vocals.”

A few sympathetic murmurs rose from the crowd, and I could see people shift in their seats, intrigued. “Yeah, it was a mess,” I continued, smiling despite the sting of the memory. “Johnny and Carrie — yeah, those are their real names, y’all — are long gone now. They didn’t just break my heart, they broke the band up too.”

I glanced at Orville, Clyde, and Gus, the ones who’d stuck around. We’d been through hell and back, but we never let anyone tear us down. “But we bounced back. And so did I,” I added with a grin. “This song’s about all that, and how you pick yourself up when the people you trust let you down.”

The room was still, eyes fixed on me as I raised my guitar, fingers poised over the strings. “So, here’s one I like to call Blue.” I stomped my boots once more, giving the boys the cue to kick in. The first slow, mournful chords filled the air, and as I started to sing, the bar held its breath, waiting for the heartache in my voice to tell the rest of the story.

I took a deep breath and let the first notes roll off my tongue, the familiar melody filling the room as my fingers danced across the strings.

"Blue, oh, so lonesome for you Why can't you be blue over me..."

My voice lingered in the air, soft yet steady, as the boys followed in perfect harmony. The crowd had settled into the mood, quiet and still, as if they, too, were feeling the heartache threaded through the lyrics.

"Tears fill my eyes 'til I can't see Three o'clock in the mornin' Here am I, sittin' all alone..."

As I poured myself into the song, my gaze drifted across the room, and that’s when I spotted him. A ruggedly handsome man leaning against the far corner of the bar, his stubble-covered jaw catching the dim light just right, giving him an air of mystery. He had a full head of curls peeking out from under a cowboy hat that didn’t quite fit the way a Texan’s would. He might have been trying to blend in, but it was obvious he wasn’t from around here.

The way he carried himself — that casual yet calculated way of sitting, like he was at ease but somehow apart from it all — made me wonder who the hell he was. Something about him tugged at my attention, even as I sang the words that had been pulling at my heart for months.

"Now that it's over I realize Those weak words you whispered Were nothing but lies..."

My fingers faltered for the briefest second, but I recovered quickly, shaking off the distraction and forcing myself back into the song. Whoever he was, I wasn’t about to let some handsome stranger throw me off my game. Not tonight.

I kept going, but the thought of him lingered at the back of my mind, the heat of his presence warming the room just a little more than it had been before.

The gentle rhythm of Gus’s bass hummed through the room, a steady heartbeat that matched the soulful sway of the song. Each note he plucked seemed to cradle the sadness in my voice, grounding it in something deeper, something raw. Clyde’s fingers danced over the keys, soft and mournful, adding a kind of sweetness to the pain, like the last lingering memory of something you loved but had to let go. Orville’s light taps on the drums gave the song its slow, steady pulse, holding everything together in a rhythm that felt like the ticking of time, dragging me back through memories I’d rather forget.

"Blue, oh, so lonesome for you Why can't you be blue over me..."

The melody wrapped itself around the room, and I could feel the audience sinking into the sadness with me, the song casting a spell over the bar. I was in the zone, letting the music take over, but that rugged stranger in the corner was like a stubborn note I couldn’t shake. His presence tugged at me, even with the sweet sorrow of the keys flowing through the air. He wasn’t watching me like the others; he was studying me, eyes dark under the brim of that cowboy hat that didn’t quite belong.

As my voice rose for the next line, I couldn’t help but glance his way again. His stubbled jaw was clenched like he was thinking hard about something, but there was a glint of something else — maybe curiosity — in his eyes. It unnerved me and fascinated me all at once, the way he didn’t quite fit in, even though he was trying to. And those curls, barely contained by the hat, told me he wasn’t used to this kind of scene. Not here, not in Texas. Not in my bar.

"Now that it’s over I realize Those weak words you whispered Were nothing but lies..."

The bass thudded low, pulling me back into the music. Gus knew just when to make it heavy, the vibrations running through my chest like the ache of an old wound. The keys lifted the sorrow just enough to make it bearable, Clyde’s touch delicate but deliberate. Together, we made the heartache sound beautiful.

But no matter how much I tried to drown myself in the song, I kept catching glimpses of him. The stranger, leaning back casually, his body language saying he was here for the ride, but his eyes telling me there was more to him than that easy posture.

The lyrics fell from my lips, but my mind kept wandering to the question burning in the back of my head: Who was he?

As the final chords of the song rang out, the bar was quiet for a moment, letting the last notes settle before a soft wave of applause rippled through the crowd. I smiled, feeling a strange mix of relief and adrenaline, my heart still thudding in my chest. The boys gave me a few approving nods — Clyde even tipped his hat — and I turned back to the mic, clearing my throat.

“Well, uh, that was a little somethin’ I wrote not too long ago,” I said, feeling the warmth of the stage lights on my face. “If y’all liked it — or if you’re just in the mood to be sad for a bit — it’s out on Spotify, Apple Music, SoundCloud, or whatever platform folks are using these days,” I added with a grin. “I promise, I’ve got some happier stuff too. Probably should’ve started the night off with one of those, huh?”

A few chuckles broke out from the crowd, but one laugh stood out — low and warm, rolling through the room like a wave that hit me square in the chest. It wasn’t like the others. It had weight, something that settled in my stomach and made it twist in a way I wasn’t used to. Almost instinctively, I looked toward the sound, and there he was — the stranger in the corner. His cowboy hat was still tipped low, hiding just enough of his face to make him even more intriguing, but it was the way his eyes locked on mine that made me freeze.

His grin was lazy, like he had all the time in the world, and there was something about the ease of it that made my heart skip a beat. In the soft glow of the bar, it felt like the entire place faded into the background. For a split second, there was nothing but me and him, his gaze holding mine with an intensity I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just that he was watching me; it was like he saw me, past the stage, past the song, and right into that vulnerable place I tried so hard to guard.

And then, just like that, I became a complete mess. Heat rushed to my face, my skin prickling under the spotlight, and I felt my grip on my guitar falter. “Uh, yeah… so, anyway... that’s me,” I stammered, my voice coming out shaky, the words tumbling over each other as I tried to make a coherent sentence. I could feel the blush creeping up my neck, no matter how hard I willed it to stop, and I quickly looked away, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

But it was too late. The boys behind me noticed — of course they did. I could practically feel Gus grinning at my awkwardness, and Clyde was trying to suppress a chuckle. Orville tapped out a light rhythm on the edge of his drum, clearly enjoying my flustered state. I fumbled with the strap of my guitar, my hands suddenly too shaky to be of any use, my mind still stuck on the way that stranger had looked at me.

I’d performed hundreds of times, faced crowds far bigger than this one, but something about that single moment — that one look from him — had knocked me off balance. My pulse was still racing, and the heat in my cheeks refused to fade. He was just a man, I reminded myself, a guy sitting in the corner of a bar. But it didn’t feel that simple. It felt like he’d peeled back a layer of me in that one glance, leaving me bare under his eyes.

And as I fumbled my way off the stage, trying to get my act together, one thought kept running through my mind: Who the hell is this guy, and why is he making me feel like this?

I cleared my throat and leaned back into the mic with a grin, letting go of the last song’s weight. “Alright, y’all,” I started, flashing a playful smile, “that last one was for all the folks who like to sit and think about their exes at 2 AM — you know who you are,” I added, getting a few chuckles from the crowd.

“But this next one? It’s a little different. We’re gonna turn things up a notch. It’s got a bit of rock in it, so feel free to sing, cry, scream, yell—whatever your heart needs. And if you wanna dance, well, don’t hold back. Just don’t blame me if you’re out of breath by the end!”

The crowd laughed, and I winked. “This one’s called Indifferent, but don’t let the name fool you—it’s anything but.”

I strummed the first few chords, letting the energy shift in the room, and the boys picked up right behind me, Orville giving the drums a little more punch, Clyde leaning into the keys with a rock edge, and Gus keeping the rhythm solid with his bass. I was about to really get into the groove when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him.

The stranger — cowboy hat and all — stood up from his seat, shaking his curls free as he made his way toward a group of people who had started to sway with the beat. And then he started dancing. And I mean really dancing, not just swaying but full-on, carefree moves, like he didn’t give a damn who was watching.

I couldn’t help it — a laugh bubbled up from my chest, and I almost missed a chord as I watched him. He was good, I had to give him that, but there was something about the way he moved that told me he was trying to get my attention. The way he’d glance over every so often, like he wanted to see if I was watching — and yeah, I was watching.

The more he danced, the more I giggled, barely keeping my voice steady as I kept singing. His cowboy hat bobbed up and down as he spun around, clapping along with the beat, and I could tell he was putting on a show, just for me. My eyes met his again, and he shot me a grin, all cocky and playful, making my heart skip a beat.

I shook my head, trying to focus on the song, but the sight of him — carefree, handsome, and definitely showing off — made it hard to keep my cool. My voice caught just a little as I sang the next line, and I could feel my face heating up again, but this time, I was more amused than flustered.

Oh, he’s trying to impress me, I thought with a smirk. And I couldn’t lie, it was kinda working.

I leaned into the mic, my voice steady as I sang the next line, feeling the shift in energy from the crowd.

"I see your truck and I don't give a—"

Before I could even finish, the crowd roared in unison, screaming out the word I didn’t have to sing. “FUCK!” Their voices echoed off the walls, a mix of laughter and rebellion, and I grinned wide.

But the loudest voice? That came from him.

“FUCK!” he yelled, right along with the crowd, his grin even wider now as he danced like no one was watching — except everyone was. His cowboy hat tipped back as he threw his arms up, and I swear, he looked like he was having the time of his life.

I couldn’t help it — I laughed, nearly missing the next line as I watched him throw himself into the moment. My cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so hard, but I kept going, feeding off the energy around me.

"And it don't make my heart skip a beat," I sang, almost giggling through the words, but his eyes were on me again, catching mine as he clapped along with the beat. His dancing had turned into full-on jumping now, and I could see a few others joining in, all feeding off his wild, carefree energy. He was having a blast, and even though I was up on stage, I felt like I was right there with him, swept up in the fun.

I saw him glance at me again, this time with a playful wink, like he knew exactly what he was doing. My heart did that weird little flip again, and I almost tripped over the next verse, the heat creeping up my face once more.

He’s definitely showing off now, I thought, trying to keep my focus on the music. But I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped as I strummed through the chorus. His dance moves might’ve been reckless, but they were working. The crowd was loving him, and so, apparently, was I.

I sang the next line, my voice steady but my heart racing a little faster as his grin widened, his eyes locked on mine. I wasn’t sure what got into me, maybe it was the way he looked so carefree, so unbothered by the world around him, or maybe it was just the thrill of the moment — but before I could stop myself, I tilted my head toward the stage, beckoning him with a playful nod.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but that grin of his never wavered. The crowd cheered him on as he took a few exaggerated, swaggering steps toward the stage, his cowboy hat tipped back and curls bouncing with every step. I laughed, my own confidence rising, and held out my hand as he made his way up.

He took it, and in an instant, we were standing side by side, the crowd going wild as we started to sway together in time with the music. His hand found its way to the small of my back, and I could feel the warmth of it even through my shirt.

The moment felt... electric.

We kept swaying, his towering frame almost comical next to mine, but somehow it worked. His eyes never left mine, and for a split second, it felt like we were the only two people in the room. The music kept going, but everything else seemed to blur into the background. I could see the playful glint in his eyes, the way he seemed to be daring me to look away — but I didn’t.

He leaned down just a bit, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke, his voice low and teasing. “Not bad for a country girl,” he said with a wink.

I giggled, blushing like a schoolgirl as I tried to keep my cool. “Not bad for a guy who’s clearly not from around here,” I shot back, but my voice wavered just a little, betraying how much his presence was throwing me off.

We kept swaying, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm, the lights catching the gleam in his eyes as we held each other's gaze. He towered over me, but I didn’t feel small — not with him, not in this moment. It felt like the rest of the world had faded away, and all that was left was the two of us, swaying together under the soft glow of the stage lights.

I took a deep breath, trying to refocus as the music carried me back into the song, but it wasn’t easy. His presence behind me was impossible to ignore, like he was right there, even though we weren’t touching anymore. My skin tingled with awareness, and I could feel the heat rising to my neck, warming me from the inside out. We were both tipsy, the drinks and the night making everything feel a little looser, a little more charged. But the way he was standing so close—his warmth practically wrapping around me—made it harder to concentrate.

"I'm indifferent, I'm just livin' When your mama calls, I'm reminded you exist And I wish that she didn't 'Cause all my 'give-a-damns', they've already been given..."

My voice stayed steady, but I could feel my heart thudding faster with every word. The crowd was clapping along, some of them singing the lyrics back to me, but all I could think about was him. I knew he was still behind me, standing tall, his presence so strong I could almost feel it on my skin.

As I sang, my breath caught just a little when I felt him shift closer, the slightest brush of his arm near my shoulder. It was nothing, really, just a subtle movement, but it sent a rush of heat up the back of my neck, making my pulse race. My voice wavered for just a second, and I bit my lip, hoping no one noticed how distracted I was.

But I knew he did. I could feel his gaze on me, even though I couldn’t see him.

I played a few more songs, each one building on the last, the energy in the room rising with every note. The crowd was alive now, swaying, clapping, and singing along. I felt a rush of adrenaline pumping through me, the nerves from earlier completely gone, replaced by this wild confidence I hadn’t felt in a long time. The music was in my veins, lifting me up, and for the first time all night, I felt completely at ease on stage.

But even with the thrill of the crowd, my thoughts kept drifting back to him. I could feel his presence in the room, like a constant hum just below the surface, and every time I caught a glimpse of his curls or that easy grin from across the bar, my pulse quickened.

As the final chord of my last song rang out, I stepped away from the mic, feeling a surge of applause wash over me. I grinned, tipping my hat to the crowd, but my eyes were searching for him. And then, there he was, standing near the bar, his gaze locked on mine. The cheers of the crowd faded into the background, everything else becoming a blur as I zeroed in on him.

Before I could even believe it, my feet started moving. It was like my body had a mind of its own, dragging me toward him before my brain could even catch up. Each step felt like I was crossing some invisible line, the adrenaline still coursing through me, making me feel bold, invincible.

I wasn’t thinking about anything else but the way his eyes held mine, steady and sure, as I made my way across the room. It was like gravity was pulling me toward him, and I wasn’t about to fight it. Before I knew it, I was standing right in front of him, close enough to catch the faint scent of cologne and the hint of whiskey on his breath.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel the heat rising to my face again, but I wasn’t about to turn back. Not now. He gave me that same lazy grin, tipping his hat just slightly as his eyes twinkled with amusement, like he knew exactly what I was feeling.

I opened my mouth to say something — anything — but the words got stuck somewhere between my head and my heart. All I knew was that I wasn’t leaving this bar without knowing who the hell this guy was.

He looked down at me, that lazy grin spreading wider as he tipped his hat back just a bit, giving me a full view of those mischievous eyes. “Well, if I knew your singing was that good, I would’ve pretended to break my heart a long time ago,” he said, his voice low and teasing, with just a hint of an accent that wasn’t from around here.

I blinked, caught completely off guard, and then burst into a laugh I hadn’t expected. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that to get a song out of me,” I shot back, still feeling the heat in my cheeks but trying to keep my cool.

He chuckled, leaning in just a little, close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off him. “Lucky for you, I’m not lookin’ to break any hearts tonight — just thought I’d make an impression.”

My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met again, and before I could help it, I smiled. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job of that,” I muttered, trying not to trip over my own words.

He straightened up, giving me a playful wink. “Well, I aim to please, darlin’.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling bolder than I had all night, and shot him a smirk. “You look like you love me,” I teased, the words slipping out with more confidence than I thought I had. The line from that song was on the tip of my tongue, and it felt just right for the moment.

His grin widened, and for a split second, he looked like I’d caught him off guard. But then he leaned in just a little, his voice low and smooth. “Well, maybe I do,” he said, the teasing tone still there but with just enough seriousness to make my heart skip.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as I met his gaze, my smirk fading into something softer. “Careful,” I replied, my voice quieter now, “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

He chuckled, that lazy grin still in place. “Maybe I like the sound of that.”

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes at him with a playful smirk. “I saw you lookin’ me up and down from across the room,” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “You weren’t exactly being subtle.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he leaned a little closer, clearly enjoying the banter. “Subtle’s never been my strong suit,” he shot back, his voice low and smooth. “But hey, can you blame me? You were up there making it pretty hard not to look.”

I bit my lip, fighting back a laugh as I shook my head. “You got a lot of nerve saying that out loud, you know.”

He shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. “Just calling it like I see it. You’re the one who beckoned me up here, remember?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep my composure, but I could feel the heat in my cheeks again. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m not subtle either.”

He tilted his head, giving me that same cocky grin. “No complaints here, darlin’.”

I laughed, shaking my head at his audacity. “Alright, mystery man, you’ve been charming me for the last few minutes, but you haven’t even told me your name yet.”

He leaned back slightly, tipping his hat with a playful glint in his eyes. “Name’s Daniel,” he said, his accent wrapping around the words just right. “And you, miss, have definitely made this night a lot more interesting.”

“Well, Daniel,” I replied, giving him a once-over just like he had done to me earlier, “I think the feeling’s mutual.”

I raised an eyebrow, still grinning as I asked, “So, where’s that accent of yours from? I know it ain’t local.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before answering, “Perth. Australia.”

I blinked, genuinely surprised. “Australia, huh? Never been there before.” I paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “Heard it’s nice, though. Beaches and all that.”

Daniel nodded, his grin widening a bit. “Yeah, we’ve got the beaches. But it’s more than just that. You should visit sometime, I’d make a pretty good tour guide.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, I bet you would,” I said, trying to imagine what it would be like to visit a place so far from Texas. “Sounds like a whole world away from here.”

“It is,” he admitted, his eyes locking on mine again. “But I reckon you’d fit in just fine.”

I tilted my head, feeling a smirk pull at the corner of my lips. “Oh, you think so? I’m not exactly the ‘surf and sand’ kind of girl. I’m more boots and dirt roads.”

Daniel chuckled, his gaze still holding mine, like he was seeing straight through the sass and into something deeper. “I dunno, I think you could rock the Aussie lifestyle. Maybe even swap those boots for some thongs,” he teased, leaning in just enough to close the space between us a little more.

I blinked, the word catching me off guard, and then burst into laughter. “What the fuck are thongs?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You Aussies have some weird ideas about footwear.”

Daniel paused for a second, then laughed, realizing his mistake. “Oh, right... over here, thongs are something else entirely,” he said, his grin turning a little mischievous. “In Australia, they’re just flip-flops. But I like where your mind went.”

I felt my face flush, a mix of the whiskey and the sudden innuendo hitting me all at once. “Well, maybe you should clarify next time,” I shot back, trying to sound confident despite the warmth creeping up my neck. “I was starting to think you had some very bold ideas for this first conversation.”

He smirked, leaning in just a little closer. “Trust me, if I wanted to make a bold suggestion, I wouldn’t be talking about footwear.” His voice dropped low, teasing, as he let the words hang between us.

My heart skipped a beat, and I fought the urge to stammer. “Well, good to know,” I managed to reply, my voice quieter now, my gaze locked on his. “But for the record, boots are staying. Thongs or no thongs.”

He chuckled, the laughter low and warm, and I could feel the space between us shrink even more. “Noted,” he said, his eyes twinkling with that same playful spark. “But if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here to help you pick the right pair.”

I smirked, shaking my head, but before I could respond, he tilted his head, still grinning like he had a whole world of charm left to unleash.

“Well, if I can make it out here to a bar in Texas, maybe one day you could try Australia. I’d personally make sure it’s worth your while.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused by his confidence. “Big promises, Daniel from Perth. You must think pretty highly of your tour guide skills.”

He shrugged, a playful glint still in his eyes. “Just sayin’, you might find there’s more to life than boots and honky-tonks. Besides,” he added, his voice lowering slightly, “I’d make sure you’d never forget it.”

My heart skipped a beat, his words sending a rush of warmth through me. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck again, but I wasn’t about to back down. “Careful now,” I replied, my voice soft but steady, “I’m not so easily impressed.”

Daniel grinned, tipping his hat slightly as he leaned back. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to work a little harder then, won’t I?”

I grinned at him, crossing my arms as I leaned against the bar. “You’ve got a lot of confidence, Daniel from Perth. But I’ve been around enough smooth talkers to know when someone’s bluffing.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to keep the playful tension in the air. “Bluffing? I don’t bluff. Just telling it like it is.” He motioned to the bartender. “Let me prove it to you. First round’s on me.”

I laughed, shaking my head but not protesting as the bartender slid two drinks our way. “Fine, I’ll bite,” I said, taking the glass. “But I’ll have you know, Texans can hold their liquor, and I’m not easy to out-drink.”

Daniel’s grin only widened. “Oh, I’ve got my work cut out for me, then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

We clinked our glasses together, and before I knew it, the drinks were flowing just as easily as the conversation. Time seemed to blur, the crowd around us fading into the background as we swapped stories and traded teasing remarks. My guitar, once my only focus of the night, now sat forgotten against a pole near the bar, its case propped up and covered with old stickers and layers of chipped paint from the years of wear. But I didn’t care.

“Okay, I have to ask,” I said, my words slightly slurred from the whiskey but still full of curiosity. “How does a guy from Australia end up here, of all places? Texas isn’t exactly next door.”

He took a long sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine. “Racing,” he replied simply, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “I travel a lot for it. Came for the Austin Grand Prix. Thought I’d stop by a local bar, get a feel for the place. Lucky me, huh?”

I felt the warmth from the drinks spreading through me, loosening me up even more. “Racing, huh? So, what, you’re like a big-time driver?” I teased, nudging him with my elbow.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Something like that. But tonight, I’m just a guy trying to keep up with a Texas girl who’s got a pretty good whiskey tolerance.”

I grinned, feeling the heat in my cheeks and not just from the alcohol. “Well, you’re doing alright so far. But don’t think a few drinks and a smile are gonna get you off the hook that easy.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Daniel said, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes held mine for a moment longer than I expected, and I could feel my heart race a little faster.

We laughed together, leaning in closer, drinks in hand, the weight of the night slipping away. The bar around us blurred into the background, as if it didn’t matter anymore — just the two of us, the warmth of his touch, the easy rhythm of our conversation, as natural as the music I’d been playing hours ago. Our hands brushed more often, his arm finding its way around my shoulder, his fingers trailing down my back in moments that felt casual but were charged with something more.

Before I knew it, we were touching more than talking — my hand resting on his arm, his thumb grazing the small of my back. The buzz of the alcohol had me feeling light, and every time his fingertips lingered a little longer, a blush crept up my neck. I could feel the heat of his breath as he leaned closer to whisper something that had us both giggling again.

The next thing I knew, we were stumbling out of the bar, calling an Uber, the cool night air doing nothing to shake the warmth between us. The ride was a blur of drunken laughter, our legs pressing against each other as his arm wrapped snugly around my waist. The city lights flew by in a haze, but all I could focus on was the way his touch made my heart race. His grip on me tightened, pulling me closer, and I was too drunk and too tipsy to even pretend not to blush.

Then, suddenly, we were back at his hotel room. The door clicked shut behind us, and we both broke into a fit of giggles, stumbling inside like we were sneaking in after curfew. His arm never left my waist, and I couldn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach as he pulled me against him, the warmth of his body sending a shiver down my spine.

“Shhh,” I whispered between giggles, trying to stifle the sound, but it was impossible when he looked at me with that boyish grin, like he was having the time of his life.

“Quiet was never my strong suit,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke, sending another wave of heat through me. I blushed even harder, barely able to keep my composure as he pressed his forehead against mine, his hand resting on my hip like he never wanted to let go.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, every inch of me aware of his body so close, his touch gentle but firm, like he was holding back just enough. His breath was warm against my skin, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along my side, and the more he touched me, the more I felt my resolve slipping.

I let out a soft, nervous laugh, trying to shake off the tension building between us, but it only made him grin wider. “You’re really bad at this whole ‘quiet’ thing,” I teased, my voice barely above a whisper as my hand slid up to rest against his chest. I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my palm, and the closeness of it all made my own pulse race.

He chuckled softly, his hand tightening just slightly on my hip. “Yeah, well, it’s hard to stay quiet when I’m this close to you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of something deeper than just the alcohol. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, everything else fell away. It was just us, standing there, barely holding it together in the haze of the night.

Before I could think about it, I found myself leaning in, my breath catching as his lips brushed against mine, soft and teasing. It wasn’t a full kiss — just the faintest touch — but it sent a jolt through me that made my knees weak. I blushed again, harder this time, but I didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

Instead, he smiled against my lips, his hand sliding up from my hip to gently cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheek. “You’re blushing again,” he whispered, and I could hear the teasing note in his voice.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, but there was no hiding the heat in my cheeks or the way I was leaning into him, my body betraying how much I wanted to be close.

We started kissing, and the night blurred together, in a mess of liquor, sticky kisses, and well what do you know, my guitar lay upright against a chair, watching the entire thing.

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I didn’t know where the fuck I was.

I blinked, staring up at a ceiling that definitely wasn’t mine, with sheets that smelled way too expensive for my budget. My head was pounding like I’d been hit by a freight train, and as I tried to roll over, something — no, someone — stopped me.

That’s when I felt it.

An arm. A very muscular arm. Draped over me like we were starring in a rom-com, except I definitely didn’t remember signing up for this role.

I squinted around the room, trying to piece together the disaster that was my life. My shirt was flung haphazardly across a chair, my boots were tipped over near the door, and... was that his cowboy hat sitting on the dresser? Oh god.

Oh god, no.

And then it all came rushing back — the whiskey, the dancing, the flirting, the thongs conversation. And then, as if on cue, the faint sound of an alarm started buzzing on his phone, because apparently this guy sets alarms like a responsible adult after a night of drunken debauchery.

“Well, shit,” I muttered under my breath.

I lay there, trying to pretend I was still asleep, or dead, or invisible—any of which would be preferable to dealing with the fact that I had absolutely no idea what to do next. Daniel’s arm was still heavy around my waist, his slow, steady breathing telling me he hadn’t woken up yet.

Okay, Y/N, just stay calm. Maybe he won’t even remember… Or maybe you can just ninja your way out of this without waking him up.

I carefully, carefully shifted my leg, inching toward freedom, but the moment I tried to move, Daniel stirred. His arm tightened around me slightly, and I froze, heart pounding in my chest like it was trying to break free and escape the situation without me.

Please don’t wake up. Please just keep dreaming about kangaroos or whatever it is Australians dream about...

But then I felt him shift again. This time, he let out a low, sleepy groan. Oh god. He was waking up. I could feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my neck, and my entire body went stiff, like maybe if I played dead, he’d just go back to sleep.

But nope.

I heard him take a deep breath, and then his groggy voice cut through the awkward silence. “Morning, darlin’.”

Shit.

His voice was raspy, deep, and far too casual for someone who had a front-row seat to my current state of oh-my-god-what-have-I-done. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the ground to just swallow me whole, but apparently, the universe didn’t grant those kinds of wishes.

I cleared my throat, still trying to stay as still as possible, like maybe if I didn’t move or respond, this entire moment would cease to exist. “Uh… morning,” I finally muttered, my voice betraying me with a nervous crack.

I could feel him shift behind me, and then — to my absolute horror — he pulled me in closer, his arm still firmly wrapped around my waist. Great. Now I’m spooning a guy I barely know, and I don’t even have a shirt on. What a stellar life choice, Y/N.

“So… how’re you feelin’?” he asked, his voice low and way too smooth for a guy who probably didn’t have a hangover.

How am I feeling? Like I’ve just woken up in a rom-com, except the comedy is my life falling apart, I thought, but instead, I just blurted, “Fine. Totally fine.”

My face was heating up again. I was like a human tomato at this point. I could feel him smiling behind me, like he was enjoying the fact that I was internally combusting.

“You don’t sound fine,” he teased, his voice dipping into that playful tone that I was beginning to realize was very dangerous for me.

I finally turned my head just enough to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. He had that messy bedhead look going on — the kind that shouldn’t be attractive but somehow was, and that damn lazy grin hadn’t left his face.

“Listen,” I said, trying to inject some semblance of control into my voice, “we’re just gonna pretend like none of this happened, okay?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, sending a shiver down my spine. “You mean the part where you dragged me back to my room, or the part where you kept giggling every time I tried to be quiet?”

My eyes widened. “I did not drag you back here!”

“Yeah, I think the Uber driver might disagree with that,” he replied, his grin widening.

I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head. “I cannot believe this is happening.”

“You and me both, darlin’,” he said, chuckling again as he gave my waist a playful squeeze. “But I gotta say, I’m not exactly complaining’.”

I let out a nervous laugh from under the blanket, but inside, I was mortified. I wasn’t the type to have one-night stands—like, ever. The last time I had one was three years ago, before Johnny and I started dating. And even then, I’d sworn it off because of how awkward and weird the whole thing felt afterward.

And the last time I’d had sex? Six months ago. Six. I wasn’t even sure how I managed last night, let alone with someone as confident and charming as Daniel. I didn’t do this. I wasn’t that girl who woke up in a stranger’s bed with her shirt somewhere across the room and no memory of how she got there.

I peeked out from under the blanket, feeling my face burning hotter by the second. “I just… I don’t do this. Like, ever.”

Daniel propped himself up on one elbow, still grinning like this was the most entertaining morning he’d had in a while. “Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed like a pro last night.”

My eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god, don’t say that,” I groaned, burying my face back into the pillow. “This is so embarrassing.”

He laughed, his voice softening just a little. “Hey, no need to be embarrassed. We were both tipsy, had a good time, and now we’re just... waking up. Happens to the best of us.”

I peeked out from the pillow again, trying to gauge if he was just messing with me or being sincere. But the easygoing look on his face hadn’t changed. He didn’t seem fazed at all, while I was over here spiraling.

I let out a slow breath, trying to calm the chaotic thoughts running through my head. Okay, maybe I could play it cool too—pretend like I wasn’t freaking out. But as I shifted under the blanket, trying to figure out how to extract myself from this mess, I felt a sudden, horrifying realization.

No bra.

I stiffened, my eyes darting around the room, desperately trying to remember where the hell it went. My shirt was across the room, but no sign of the bra. Oh god.

I glanced at Daniel, who was watching me with that amused grin still plastered on his face. He noticed the moment I realized it—of course he did. His grin widened, and before I could even attempt to form a coherent excuse, he raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, “Looking for something, darlin’? Because I’m not sure it’s gonna walk back over here on its own.”

My face turned beet red. “I—uh—this is just…” I stammered, covering myself with the blanket more securely, like that would magically undo everything.

He let out a chuckle, clearly enjoying every second of my mortification. “Don’t worry, your shirt’s over there, and I think your bra… well, it might’ve decided to take an extended vacation,” he teased, pointing toward the floor, where it lay crumpled in the corner like some sort of defeated symbol of my night.

I buried my face in my hands, laughing despite myself. “This is so not how I thought my night would end,” I mumbled through my fingers.

Daniel leaned in, still grinning like the cat who got the cream. “If it helps, I think you handled yourself pretty damn well for someone who doesn’t ‘do this,’” he teased, his voice full of playful charm.

I groaned, unable to stop the embarrassed laughter bubbling out of me. “Oh my god, stop,” I muttered, half laughing, half dying inside. But there was something about his laid-back attitude, the way he wasn’t making this feel weird or awkward, that made me feel just a little better.

At least one of us was good at handling this kind of thing.

I couldn’t stop laughing now, even though every cell in my body wanted to melt into the mattress and disappear. But Daniel wasn’t letting up, his teasing coming in waves.

“You know,” he said with a grin, “I’ve heard of people losing their dignity after a night like this, but you managed to misplace your bra too. That’s impressive.”

I rolled my eyes, still hiding my face in my hands. “Oh, ha ha, very funny. Maybe I’ll just stay under this blanket forever.”

He chuckled again, sitting up slightly and stretching, looking way too comfortable considering the situation. “Can’t say I blame you. This bed is pretty damn nice. But I’m starting to think you’re just stalling because you don’t want to leave me.”

I shot him a glare, trying to smother the blush on my cheeks. “I’m not stalling. I’m just… regrouping.”

“Right,” he nodded sagely. “Regrouping. Take all the time you need, darlin’. I’ll just be over here, admiring your tactical approach to gathering your scattered clothing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, finally throwing the blanket off and clumsily scrambling out of bed. My hair was a mess, and I was pretty sure I looked like I’d just survived a tornado, but I was determined to reclaim some shred of dignity. As I stumbled over to where my shirt lay crumpled across the chair, Daniel’s voice piped up again.

“Wow,” he said, a little quieter this time, and I turned to see him watching me with an entirely different look—more serious, though still with that glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I gotta say, you’re even more beautiful in the morning.”

I paused, my hand halfway to my shirt, and felt my heart do a little flip. “Really?” I asked, trying not to sound too flustered as I glanced at him.

He nodded, that easy smile still on his face but softer now. “Yeah. Really.”

I stared at him for a second, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks again but in a different way this time. There was something about the way he said it, so casual and genuine, that made me stop caring so much about the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Well,” I said, finally grabbing my shirt and pulling it over my head, “you’re not too bad yourself… for someone who’s spent the night making terrible jokes at my expense.”

Daniel laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I can’t help it. You make it way too easy.”

I shook my head, still smiling, as I gathered the rest of my things. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking. I’ll be sure to remember all of this next time I decide to ‘misplace’ my bra.”

Daniel grinned, watching as I gathered up the last of my things, still laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Well, if you ever need help finding it again,” he said smoothly, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at me with that lazy smile, “you might wanna give me a way to contact you.”

I paused, looking over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you think you’re slick, huh?”

He shrugged, giving me an innocent look that was anything but. “Just thinking ahead. In case you lose any more important items in the future… like your phone, your hat—hell, your sense of direction, since you clearly needed help last night.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “You really think I’m gonna fall for that?”

He tilted his head, flashing a charming grin. “Darlin’, you already fell for it.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, but there was no denying the grin on my face as I grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “Fine, I’ll put my number in your phone. But if I get any messages about lost bras, I’m blocking you,” I teased, typing my number into his contacts and tossing the phone back to him.

He caught it effortlessly, grinning as he glanced down at the screen. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, winking. “Unless you’re the one sending me a distress call next time.”

I shook my head, smirking as I turned toward the door. “You wish.”

“Already do,” he called out behind me, his voice playful and teasing, but with just enough sincerity to make my heart skip a beat as I left the room.

As soon as I stepped out of the room and into the hallway, I let out a long breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Relief washed over me, but so did the heat rising up my neck and into my cheeks. Holy hell, I actually survived that.

I stood there for a moment, my heart still racing from the whirlwind of the morning. Daniel’s playful smirk, his damn smooth lines—it was all still buzzing in my head, and the fact that I’d somehow managed to walk away with my dignity (mostly) intact felt like a miracle.

But then I caught sight of myself in the mirror at the end of the hallway. Oh no.

I was a mess. My hair looked like it had been through a windstorm, and my shirt from last night was wrinkled beyond repair. The smudged mascara under my eyes was giving me a whole new level of “walk of shame,” and I couldn’t help but cringe at my reflection.

This is what I left the room looking like? Oh, great.

I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, trying to smooth out the wild tangles and make myself look at least halfway decent. I tugged at the hem of my shirt, trying to straighten it out, but no matter what I did, it still screamed “last night’s mistakes.” I wiped away the smudged mascara with the edge of my sleeve, doing my best to clean up the damage.

My cheeks were still flushed from the sheer embarrassment of it all, and no amount of quick fixes was going to change the fact that I had just walked out of a guy’s hotel room looking like a hot mess. I bit my lip, shaking my head at myself in the mirror, my heart still pounding in my chest.

“Well, this is a look,” I muttered to myself, giving my reflection one last, exasperated glance before squaring my shoulders and heading for the elevator. Just get out of here, Y/N. Fast.

I smoothed my hair down one last time, took a deep breath, and headed toward the elevator, praying no one else in the hallway had witnessed my tragic attempt at post-hookup self-repair. The faster I got out of this hotel, the better. I was already pressing the elevator button repeatedly like I could summon it faster through sheer desperation.

Come on, come on…

Finally, the doors slid open, and I practically leaped inside. But the universe had other plans for me, because standing right there, already in the elevator, were Carrie and Johnny.

My heart stopped. I almost crapped my panties.

Carrie, my ex-best friend. Johnny, my ex-boyfriend. Of course they were here. Of all the elevators in this damn hotel. My stomach dropped as the realization hit me like a freight train, and suddenly I was right back in the middle of the heartbreak they’d both caused, except this time I looked like I’d just rolled out of a frat party.

I stared at them, my mind racing, wondering if I could somehow reverse time and avoid stepping into this death trap. But it was too late. I was standing there, and they were looking at me. Johnny’s eyes flicked up and down, taking in my rumpled clothes and messy hair. Carrie’s smile faltered, and her eyes widened, like she was realizing exactly what kind of morning I was having.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“Y/N?” Carrie’s voice was soft but laced with that familiar fake concern. “Wow, it’s been a while.”

Johnny just stood there, staring, that stupid, unreadable look on his face. He didn’t say anything, but the awkward silence hung in the air like a thick cloud.

I forced a tight smile, trying not to visibly cringe. “Yeah, well... things have been... busy.”

The elevator doors closed with a quiet thud, sealing me in with them. It was, without a doubt, the longest elevator ride of my life. I could feel Johnny’s eyes on me, that same calculating gaze that used to make me second-guess everything I said. And Carrie? She had that look on her face—the one that said she was definitely going to gossip about this later.

I stared straight ahead, willing the elevator to move faster, trying to breathe through the tension. Every second felt like an eternity, the silence only broken by the soft hum of the elevator as it slowly, agonizingly descended.

My mind raced. Of all the mornings to run into them, this had to be the one where I was dressed in last night’s wrinkled shirt, and my hair looked like it had gone to war with a curling iron. The fact that I’d just come from Daniel’s hotel room made it worse. Much worse.

I could feel the heat creeping up my neck again, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment over Daniel. It was from pure mortification.

Finally—finally—the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to the lobby. I didn’t waste a second. “Well, this has been… fun,” I said, voice tight, and bolted out of the elevator like my life depended on it.

Behind me, I could feel their eyes still on me, and I could practically hear Carrie’s voice in my head already: Did you see Y/N this morning?

Kill me now.

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator and into the hotel lobby, the reality of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks. I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart dropping into my stomach. Oh no. No, no, no.

This wasn’t just any hotel.

This was Carrie’s hotel. Her family’s pride and joy. The one I had spent countless summer nights in when we were best friends, long before everything fell apart. Out of all the hotels in Austin, Daniel had to be staying at the one owned by Carrie’s family.

I groaned internally, my mind reeling. Of course, this was how my morning would go. The universe just loved to test me, apparently. I could already imagine Carrie’s smug little face, probably telling her family all about how I’d been seen leaving some guy’s room at her family’s hotel, looking like a mess. And Johnny—ugh, Johnny—had been right there to see it all, too. The two of them were probably plotting how to make this even more humiliating for me.

I felt my cheeks burn again, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. It was from sheer frustration. Out of all the places Daniel could have stayed, this had to be the one. What were the odds?

I shook my head, trying to compose myself, but the realization only made me want to crawl under a rock even more. Not only did I have the most awkward elevator ride in history with my cheating ex and ex-best friend, but now I was in their territory. This was their turf, and I just walked straight into it with no idea.

This day just keeps getting better and better, I thought bitterly, glancing around to make sure neither of them had followed me out of the elevator.

I glanced back at the lobby, memories flooding back from when Carrie and I used to run around this very place, pretending we were in some grand adventure. Funny how things had changed. So much for avoiding drama.

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yourusername

liked by user1, user2, and 10,289 others

yourusername: t-3 days until my sophomore album "The Cowgirls, Guns, & Horses" comes out, can't wait for everyone to hear it #tcgh

user1: i'm wayyy too excited for #tcgh i just know ts is too good

user2: everyone say amen for y/n for dropping out of uni to bless us with amazing music

user3: yeah it's literally crazy too , like she was going to be an engineer and literally quit her last year...😦😦

user2: it's lowkey sad but AT LEAST WE HAVE MUSICCC YASSS

user4: guys...did we see her on twt last night w a certain someone....

user5: wait no??!?! hello please fill me in on the tea 📖

user4: basically some op saw her in a bar with a shit ton our tourists, turns out one of them was non other than F1 DRIVER DANIEL RICCIARDO

user5: THERES NO WAY???

user6: wait who's that... i'm so out of the loop for pop culture guys... 😭😭🙏🏽

user7: he's this super famous formula one driver (drives fast cars in weird shaped circles) from australia and he LOVES the country

user8: yeah... he wears a cowboy hat so much its kind of goofy

user9: yeah and allegedly, SOMEONE SAW THEM GO SOMEWHERE IN A CAR TOGETHER 😃💃🏻

user10: DAMNNNN @/yourusername.... was the d fire 🔥🚒🧯

user11: @/user10 LMFAO GTFOOO

user12: wait so i know this album is gonna be lowkey sad but like what if she pops up w some suprise songs about daniel's cowboy...

user13: i'm DEAD what if she actually reads the comments

user12: i would simply pass tf away!!

danielricciardo

liked by user1, user2, and 109,110 others

danielricciardo: Save a horse, ride a cowboy #austingp

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I slid into the backseat of my Uber, letting out a long, frustrated sigh as I slumped against the door. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, but I waved off any small talk with a quick, “Rough morning.”

As we pulled away from the hotel, I scoffed, shaking my head at myself. Did I seriously just spend money to Uber to and from a booty call? The thought made me cringe. Out of all the impulsive decisions I’d made in my life, this one was quickly climbing the ranks. I mean, come on—Ubering to a random hotel was bad enough, but having to ride back in shame after? That was a whole new level of poor life choices.

By the time the Uber pulled up to my house, I was already mentally preparing to face the walk of shame into my own home. I quietly slipped inside, trying to be as stealthy as possible, when suddenly—

“Boo!”

I jumped a mile high, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest as my younger sister, Maddie, popped out of nowhere, grinning like a cat who caught a canary.

“Jesus, Maddie!” I whisper-yelled, clutching my chest. “What is wrong with you?”

Maddie raised an eyebrow, eyes immediately trailing up and down my disheveled outfit. “Uh, is that the same thing you wore yesterday?” she asked, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk. “Did you... seriously just come back from—”

I slapped my hand over her mouth before she could finish the sentence, my eyes wide. “Shh! Keep it down!” I hissed. “We are not having this conversation out here.”

Her eyes twinkled mischievously, but she nodded under my hand, so I let her go. I grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the hall, sneaking into my room like we were plotting a heist. Once inside, I shut the door behind us and turned to face her, arms crossed.

Maddie sat on the edge of my bed, looking way too pleased with herself. “Spill,” she said, not even bothering with a polite lead-in.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Fine. But you cannot tell anyone.”

She mimed zipping her lips and leaned in, ready for the juicy details.

“So…” I began, pacing the room. “Last night was a complete disaster. I ended up—well, you know—at some guy’s hotel room.”

Maddie’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? You? Miss ‘I Don’t Do Hookups’?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I muttered, flopping down beside her on the bed. “I don’t even know how it happened. We were drinking, flirting… one thing led to another, and next thing I know, I wake up in his bed.”

Maddie let out a low whistle. “Damn. And?”

“And…” I sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair. “It gets worse. Guess who I ran into on the elevator this morning?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh no, who?”

“Carrie. And Johnny,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

Maddie’s mouth dropped open in shock. “No way. You ran into both of them? At the hotel?”

I nodded miserably. “Yup. Turns out the hotel I was in? Carrie’s family’s hotel. Of course.”

She gasped dramatically, covering her mouth. “Oh my god, Y/N, that’s… that’s awful but kind of hilarious.”

I shot her a glare, though a small smile tugged at my lips. “Yeah, hilarious for you maybe. For me? Literal nightmare.”

Maddie giggled, clearly enjoying the chaos of my morning. “So, did they say anything?”

“Not really. Just awkward stares and Carrie’s fake concern. The whole thing was a disaster. I swear, I am never doing this again,” I said, shaking my head.

She grinned, nudging me with her elbow. “Never say never. But hey, at least you’ve got a hell of a story now.”

I groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “Trust me, I could’ve done without this particular story.”

I stared at the ceiling, still trying to process the absolute train wreck of a morning I’d just experienced, when Maddie’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“So, who’s this mystery guy you hooked up with?” she asked, nudging me again with a smirk.

I bit my lip, hesitating. Should I even say it? It felt surreal—like it wasn’t even real life—but what the hell, I was already in deep. “You’re not gonna believe this,” I muttered, sitting up and bracing myself. “His name’s Daniel. Daniel Ricciardo.”

Maddie’s jaw dropped so fast I thought it might hit the floor. “WHAT?!” she practically screamed, her eyes going wide with excitement. “THE Daniel Ricciardo? You slept with Daniel Ricciardo? As in F1 driver Daniel Ricciardo?”

I blinked, confused at her over-the-top reaction. “Uh, yeah? I mean, he said he’s a driver or something, but... I don’t really follow racing, so I didn’t think much of it.”

Maddie grabbed my shoulders, shaking me like I was the one losing my mind. “Y/N, are you serious? How did you not know who that was? He’s super famous! Like, ridiculously famous!”

I blinked, completely taken aback. “Wait, what? Famous famous?”

Maddie rolled her eyes, like I was the most clueless person on the planet. “Yes, famous famous! He’s one of the most popular Formula 1 drivers in the world! You know, the sport where they race the fastest cars? And, uh, hello, the Austin Grand Prix is in like five days! How do you not know this?”

My mouth dropped open as I tried to wrap my brain around what she was saying. “The Austin Grand Prix? You mean that thing that brings in all those tourists every year?”

“Yes! Exactly!” Maddie threw her hands up in the air, looking like she couldn’t believe my ignorance. “F1 is huge, Y/N. There are races all over the world, and Daniel Ricciardo is, like, one of the biggest personalities in the sport. People love him. He’s been racing for years, and he’s known for being super charismatic and... oh my god, you really didn’t know?”

I shook my head, completely floored. “I mean, he did say something about racing, but I didn’t realize it was that kind of racing. I just thought he meant, like, NASCAR or something.”

Maddie smacked her forehead. “Oh my god, you’re killing me. F1 is way bigger than NASCAR! It’s like the most elite motorsport in the world. And Daniel’s been racing for some of the top teams. How did you not realize you were with an actual celebrity?”

I stared at her, my mind reeling. “So, you’re telling me I just… slept with a world-famous driver and didn’t even realize it?”

Maddie nodded emphatically, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Yup! And honestly, I’m a little jealous. I mean, Daniel Ricciardo, Y/N! He’s a big deal! Girls all over the world would kill to be in your position.”

I groaned, flopping back onto the bed, my hands covering my face. “Oh my god, I cannot believe this. I slept with a celebrity, and I didn’t even know it. What is my life?”

Maddie giggled, clearly having way too much fun with this. She flopped down next to me on the bed, her grin as wide as Texas. “Girl, don’t even stress. You’re a celebrity now too! You and Daniel Ricciardo? That’s some next-level, power couple stuff right there.”

I groaned louder, pressing my palms against my face. “Maddie, stop. I’m not a celebrity. I’m a girl who just had a really, really embarrassing one-night stand.”

She nudged me with her elbow, smirking. “Nah, you’re thinkin’ too small, sis. Just picture it! You’re up on stage with your guitar, singin’ your heart out, and Daniel’s out there in the crowd, front and center, lookin’ all fine and proud of his lil’ cowgirl.”

I rolled over onto my side, staring at her in disbelief. “Maddie, please. You’re daydreamin’ way too hard right now.”

But she wasn’t even listening, lost in her own fantasy. “Y’all could be, like, the ultimate couple. Country singer and an F1 driver? Hell, people would eat that up! He’d be all, ‘This here’s my gal, Y/N,’ and you’d be sittin’ there in the paddock, rockin’ those fancy hats like a boss. Shoot, you two would be in all the magazines!”

I shot her a look. “Maddie, we’re not even dating. It was one night, and I barely knew who he was until five minutes ago.”

She waved her hand, brushing off my concerns like dust off a pair of boots. “Psh, technicalities. I’m just sayin’, y’all could make waves. You’d be the talk of Texas and everywhere else too. Like a regular old-fashioned Bonnie and Clyde, but with less crime and more racin’.”

I laughed despite myself. “Yeah, sure. A cowgirl and a race car driver. That’ll be the day.”

Maddie wiggled her eyebrows. “Hey, you never know! Y’all could be splittin’ your time between the racetrack and the rodeo. And if anyone can pull off being a celebrity couple, it’s my big sis.”

I sat up, shaking my head but unable to keep the smile off my face. “You’re ridiculous.”

She grinned wide, leaning back on her elbows. “I know, but tell me I’m wrong.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to push away the ridiculous idea. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Maddie’s wild daydreams weren’t entirely out of reach.

Just as Maddie was about to launch into another wild daydream about me and Daniel conquering the world, there was a sharp knock on my door.

“Y/N? Maddie? What are y’all doin’ in there?” my mom’s voice called out from the hallway.

My eyes widened in horror. “Oh, crap,” I whispered, looking down at my crumpled shirt and yesterday’s jeans. No way could Mom see me like this. Not after last night.

Maddie, ever the quick thinker, jumped up, eyes wide. “You gotta change! Quick, or she’ll know!”

I scrambled off the bed, frantically grabbing the first pair of sweatpants I could find and yanking off my wrinkled jeans. “Uh, we’re just—hold on, Mom! Give us a sec!” I yelled back, pulling on the sweats and trying to find a shirt that didn’t scream ‘walk of shame.’

Mom knocked again, louder this time, sounding more impatient. “What’s takin’ so long? Y’all up to no good in there?”

Maddie shot me a panicked look, then, in true Maddie fashion, she came up with the most absurd lie possible. “Mom, we’re—uh—just checking if Y/N has a wart down there!”

My head snapped up so fast I nearly fell over. “WHAT?”

Maddie’s eyes were wide with mischief as she mouthed, Just go with it!

Mom was silent for a second, and then I heard a heavy sigh. “A wart? Y’all expect me to believe that?”

Maddie waved her arms around frantically, trying to sell the lie. “Yeah! You know, like, one of those really weird ones! We didn’t wanna make a fuss about it, so we’re handling it ourselves.”

I threw on a hoodie, pulling it over my head as fast as I could, all while glaring at Maddie. “Are you kidding me?” I whispered through gritted teeth, but she just gave me a thumbs-up.

Mom’s patience was clearly wearing thin. “Well, can’t this wait until later? I need y’all downstairs now.”

Maddie’s eyes darted around, looking for an escape. “Uh, well, it’s kind of urgent, Mom! You don’t just leave a wart alone, right? It could get... worse! Way worse!”

I buried my face in my hands, trying not to burst out laughing at how ridiculous this had become. But Maddie wasn’t letting up, and my mom, bless her, was clearly not buying it.

“Alright, enough. I don’t care if there’s a whole forest of warts down there! Get your butts downstairs in two minutes or I’m coming in!” Mom’s voice was firm now, and I could hear her foot tapping impatiently outside the door.

Maddie shot me a guilty look as I finally finished pulling myself together. “Okay, okay, we’re coming!” I yelled back, exasperated but unable to stop giggling at how absurd this situation had become.

As soon as we heard Mom walk away from the door, I turned to Maddie, shaking my head. “A wart? Really? That’s your best lie?”

Maddie grinned, completely unbothered. “Hey, I had to think fast! Besides, you know Mom was gonna barge in here if we didn’t come up with something good.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “I swear, if I ever have to explain to her that I don’t have warts, you’re taking the blame.”

“Deal,” Maddie said with a grin, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the door. “Now let’s go before she drags us down there herself.”

Maddie and I hurried downstairs, trying our best to look normal — like we hadn’t just staged a ridiculous wart-related lie to keep Mom from barging into my room. As soon as we hit the bottom step, Mom was standing there with her arms crossed, eyeing us with that mom look that said she knew something was up but was choosing to let it slide for now.

She raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Y’all got those warts handled? Need me to call a doctor or somethin’?”

I groaned, rolling my eyes as Maddie snickered beside me. “We’re fine, Mom,” I muttered, trying not to blush all over again. “No doctor necessary.”

Mom chuckled and shook her head. “Alright, then. I need you two to run to the mart for me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a grocery list, handing it over. “Just a few things I need for tonight. Don’t dilly-dally.”

I took the list and scanned it, my mind still racing from the chaos of the morning. Eggs, milk, sugar—normal stuff. But then I spotted cilantro circled three times with a little note that said, “Don’t forget this time!!!”

I sighed, folding the list up and sticking it in my pocket. “Got it, Mom. Anything else? Want us to pick up some wart cream while we’re at it?” I teased, shooting Maddie a glance.

Maddie snorted, and Mom swatted me lightly on the arm. “Just get what’s on the list, smart mouth.”

We headed out the door and into the driveway, where Maddie tossed me the keys to my truck. “Your turn to drive,” she said, hopping into the passenger seat with a grin. “I’m still recovering from your fashion disaster this morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, climbing into the driver’s seat. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she said, smirking as I started the engine. The truck roared to life, and we pulled out of the driveway, heading toward the mart.

As we cruised down the road, the Texas sun beating down on us, I finally started to relax. The insanity of the morning was starting to fade, and it felt good to just drive, even if it was for groceries.

“Cilantro, huh?” Maddie said, glancing at the list as we pulled into the parking lot of the mart. “You better not forget that, or Mom’s gonna throw a fit.”

I parked the truck and unbuckled my seatbelt. “Yeah, I know. We’re on a cilantro mission now.”

We hopped out of the truck, laughing about the morning's chaos as we headed inside. At least now, it was just me, Maddie, and a simple grocery list to tackle.

Maddie and I wandered through the grocery store aisles, chatting about nothing in particular as we grabbed the items on Mom’s list. Everything was going smoothly until I remembered the cilantro.

“Maddie, I can’t forget the cilantro. Mom will kill me if I come back without it.” I scanned the store like I was hunting for buried treasure, and then—out of the corner of my eye—I spotted it. The last bunch of cilantro.

“There!” I practically shouted, pointing across the produce section. Without thinking, I made a mad dash for it, leaving Maddie behind as I zeroed in on my target. Nothing was going to stop me from getting this cilantro—not after what happened last time.

But just as I reached for it, my hand collided with someone else’s.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” a familiar voice said, as our hands both grabbed for the same bunch. “In a rush, are we?”

I looked up and found myself staring directly into Daniel’s mischievous eyes. My heart skipped a beat—of all people.

“You?” I blurted, both annoyed and surprised.

Daniel grinned, raising an eyebrow as his hand still held onto the cilantro. “What, you didn’t think you’d see me again?”

I blinked, trying to recover from the sudden collision, both physically and mentally. “I—uh—no, I just didn’t expect to be fighting you over a bunch of cilantro,” I said, still clutching the herb in one hand as he held the other end.

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, if you’d been a little slower, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at him. “Slower? I was practically flying over here. I saw it first.”

“Oh, really?” He tilted his head, that playful smirk of his back in full force. “I’m pretty sure I had my hand on it before you did.”

“Dream on, Ricciardo,” I shot back, trying to yank the cilantro from his grip. “It’s mine.”

He tightened his hold, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Tell you what—we’ll share it.”

“Share?” I raised an eyebrow. “What, you want to split a bunch of cilantro? What are we, in preschool?”

Daniel laughed, pulling it toward him slightly. “I mean, it’s either that or you admit defeat.”

“Admit defeat?” I shot him a glare. “I don’t lose at grocery shopping.”

“Is that so?” His grin widened as he leaned in closer, his face just a little too close for comfort. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re losing.”

My cheeks flushed, and I yanked the cilantro again, this time breaking the bunch in half. “There. Now we’re both losers.”

He burst out laughing, holding up his half of the cilantro. “Fair enough. You really don’t like losing, do you?”

I crossed my arms, trying to hide the fact that I was blushing. “Not when I’m up against people who think they can out-shop me.”

Daniel leaned against the cart, still grinning like he was having the time of his life. “Alright, you win this round, but I’m telling you—next time, I’m taking the whole bunch.”

I shook my head, trying not to laugh. “Good luck with that.”

Just then, Maddie appeared behind me, her eyes going wide when she realized who I was standing next to. “Uh, Y/N? What’s going on here?”

I turned to Maddie, holding up my half of the cilantro. “Just winning a fight, that’s all.”

Daniel winked at Maddie before looking back at me. “More like a draw, if we’re being honest.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ricciardo.”

Maddie raised her eyebrows, her grin spreading. “Oh, this is definitely going in my scrapbook.”

Daniel chuckled, still holding his half of the cilantro like it was a prize. Just as I was about to turn away, he slipped something into my hand, so smooth I almost didn’t realize he’d done it.

I blinked, glancing down at the small folded piece of paper. “What’s this?” I asked, unfolding it carefully, my curiosity piqued.

Before I could even figure it out, Maddie was already craning her neck to see. Her eyes widened in excitement the second she caught a glimpse. “Oh my god, Y/N, do you even know what these are?!”

I looked at her, completely confused. “What do you mean?”

She pointed excitedly at the paper in my hands. “Those are paddock passes! For the Austin GP! You’ve got three-day passes to the entire race weekend! Do you even understand how hard these are to get?”

I stared down at the passes, my jaw practically hitting the floor. “Wait, what?”

Daniel smirked, casually leaning against his cart, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Yeah, figured you might want to see what all this F1 fuss is about, and I happened to have an extra pass. So, you know, if you’re not too busy fighting over cilantro.”

I looked up at him, completely floored. “You... got me paddock passes? For three days?”

He shrugged, looking way too casual about the whole thing. “What can I say? I’m glad I grabbed an extra one just in case.” His eyes flickered with that familiar playful glint. “And now, I’m even gladder.”

Maddie, still buzzing with excitement, suddenly stepped forward, grinning ear to ear. “Oh, where are my manners?” She extended her hand. “I’m Maddie, by the way. You know, the better sister.”

Daniel burst into laughter, shaking her hand. “Well, if you’re anything like your sister, I think I’m in for trouble.”

Maddie winked at him. “Trouble’s our middle name. But really, she’s the one you’ve gotta watch out for.”

I shot Maddie a glare, trying to keep my cool even though my heart was still racing. “Maddie, stop.”

Daniel grinned, turning his attention back to me. “I dunno, I kind of like trouble. Keeps things interesting.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up my neck. “You just like making everything a competition.”

He tilted his head, that infuriatingly charming smirk still on his face. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing how far I can push you.”

Maddie laughed, nudging me with her elbow. “Oh, he’s good, Y/N. Better watch out, or you’re gonna find yourself in the middle of a Grand Prix.”

Daniel grinned, leaning in just a little. “Well, with those passes, you might just end up front and center.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head at how ridiculous this had all become. “You seriously just carry extra paddock passes around?”

“Only when I think they might come in handy,” he said, eyes glinting. “And I had a feeling you’d appreciate them more than anyone else here.”

I raised an eyebrow, still not entirely sure how this was my life. “You’re something else, you know that?”

He smiled, holding up his half of the cilantro. “Takes one to know one.”

I stared at the paddock passes in my hand, still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Daniel Ricciardo—actual Formula 1 driver—had just handed me access to the most exclusive part of the Austin GP like it was no big deal. Meanwhile, Maddie looked like she was about to combust from excitement.

“I mean, front and center at a Grand Prix?” Maddie piped up, clearly having the time of her life with this. “Y/N, do you even understand how cool that is? You’re basically about to be part of the elite crowd. And you didn’t even know who he was two days ago.”

I shot her a look, trying not to blush as I turned back to Daniel. “I feel like I should be saying thanks, but... are you sure? This feels a little...”

“Too good to be true?” Daniel finished with a smirk, crossing his arms. “I get that a lot. But trust me, I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. Plus, I didn’t want to go through the weekend wondering if you’d ever stop fighting over cilantro.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re really gonna hang onto that, aren’t you?”

“Only as long as it keeps you on your toes.” He grinned, his gaze holding mine a second longer than necessary. “Besides, now you’ve got no excuse not to come.”

Maddie, never one to miss an opportunity, jumped in with a grin. “Oh, she’ll be there. I’ll make sure of it. You’re looking at the world’s most stubborn person right here, but once she commits, she’s all in.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Is that so?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at my lips. “I wouldn’t listen to her. She’s just trying to recruit me into her fantasy F1 life.”

Maddie snorted. “Uh, you slept with Daniel Ricciardo, and now you’ve got paddock passes. I think that fantasy is turning into reality, sis.”

I groaned, rubbing my face in embarrassment. “Maddie, please.”

Daniel chuckled, glancing between the two of us. “You two are something else. This is probably the most fun I’ve had at a grocery store in... ever.��

I crossed my arms, half smiling despite myself. “Well, I guess we know who to thank for that. You’re really making a habit of surprising me, aren’t you?”

He leaned in just slightly, his grin widening. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Just wait ‘til you see what surprises I’ve got lined up for the weekend.”

Maddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Ooh, mysterious. I like it.”

I shot her a look but couldn’t help laughing. “Alright, fine. You win. I’ll come to the race.”

Daniel winked, clearly satisfied. “Knew you would. See you in the paddock, then.” He tipped his imaginary hat and turned to walk away, but not before flashing one last grin. “Don’t forget to bring your competitive spirit. You’re gonna need it.”

I watched him go, my heart still racing as Maddie practically squealed beside me. “Oh my god, Y/N! This is insane!”

I shook my head, laughing. “Yeah, it is. I can’t believe I’m actually going to an F1 race.”

Maddie grinned, nudging me again. “Not just any race. You’re going with Daniel freaking Ricciardo. Girl, this is like something out of a movie.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small part of me couldn’t deny how surreal—and thrilling—it all felt.

After successfully scouring the back of the store and miraculously finding one last bunch of cilantro hidden behind some parsley, Maddie and I made our way to the checkout. I could barely keep my head straight, still reeling from my unexpected run-in with Daniel, while Maddie was practically bouncing with excitement, shooting me side-glances the entire time we loaded up the cart.

Once we were through the checkout and back in the truck, Maddie wasted no time. As soon as I turned the ignition, she turned toward me, eyes wide with anticipation. "Okay, enough stalling. You have to give me details about the one-night stand. I mean, come on. It's Daniel Ricciardo! Spill it!"

I groaned, gripping the steering wheel and backing out of the parking spot. “Maddie, please.”

She crossed her arms, giving me her best "I’m-not-letting-this-go" look. “Oh, no, no. You’re not getting out of this one. I need the full rundown. Like, what happened? How did it happen? How is he? Is he a good—”

“Maddie!” I cut her off, feeling the heat rise to my face. “I am not telling you that.”

She smirked, not even remotely phased by my protests. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you weren’t just as shocked to wake up next to him. I mean, how does someone like you,” she gestured to me dramatically, “end up in bed with someone like him?”

I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself. “Trust me, I was just as surprised as you are. It wasn’t even planned! We were both tipsy, flirting at the bar... and, well, you know how those things go.”

Maddie practically squealed. “So, was it... like, really good?”

I groaned again, my face probably a bright shade of red by now. “Maddie, I’m not talking about that. Just know that... it was fine, okay? We were both drunk, and it happened. End of story.”

She pouted but kept pushing. “Ugh, fine. But was he sweet? Was he funny in the morning? Or did he just roll over and pretend like nothing happened?”

I snorted, shaking my head as I turned onto the road. “No, actually, he was... really chill about it. We joked around a bit, and he didn’t make it awkward. I mean, we even fought over cilantro in the grocery store, and he’s still as annoyingly charming as ever.”

Maddie let out a dreamy sigh. “Of course, he’s charming. Ugh, I bet that smile of his could get you to do anything. No wonder you ended up in his hotel room.”

I shot her a look. “Can you not make me sound like a complete pushover?”

She giggled, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying! You gotta admit, he’s got some serious game.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, he’s definitely got something. But honestly, I don’t even know what to make of it all. One minute, I’m waking up in his bed, and the next, I’ve got paddock passes for a whole race weekend.”

Maddie leaned back in her seat, eyes wide with curiosity. “Okay, okay, but I have to ask the important question.” She paused for dramatic effect, smirking like she was about to drop the most scandalous question of all time.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What now?”

She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “Is it... big?”

I nearly choked on my own laughter, my face instantly heating up. “Maddie!” I exclaimed, giving her a light shove. “Oh my god, you can’t just ask that!”

She burst out laughing, completely unfazed. “Come on! You hooked up with a famous race car driver! You know I had to ask!”

I covered my face, shaking my head. “This is not happening right now.”

Maddie nudged me again, still giggling. “I’m just sayin’, you can’t drop all these details about Daniel freakin’ Ricciardo and expect me to not be curious! It’s, like, basic sister requirements.”

I sighed, laughing despite the embarrassment. “I’m not telling you that. Besides, some things are meant to be kept private!”

She threw her hands up in surrender, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Fine, fine. But I’m just gonna assume the answer’s yes based on how flustered you are right now.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing the grocery bags. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

She beamed at me, completely proud of herself. “It’s part of my charm. Now let’s go inside before Mom gets suspicious.”

We stepped out of the truck, and as we made our way toward the house, Maddie shot me one last teasing glance. “I still can’t believe this. You’re living the dream, sis. Now we just have to get you through the race without tripping over yourself.”

I laughed, shaking my head as we walked inside. “Easier said than done, trust me.”

Maddie winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to keep you grounded. And, you know, ask more questions about... size later.”

I groaned. “Maddie, I swear, if you bring that up again—”

She cut me off with a giggle. “Relax, I’ll save it for after the race. Maybe Daniel will answer it for me.”

I gave her a mock-serious glare as we stepped into the kitchen. “If you ask him anything remotely like that, I’ll personally disown you as my sister.”

Maddie just grinned, completely unfazed by my threat. “Oh, come on! You know you’re curious too. I bet Daniel’s the type to joke right back—he seems like he’s got that smooth banter down.”

I rolled my eyes, setting the grocery bags down on the counter. “Yeah, well, I’d rather not find out in front of you.”

She grabbed a bunch of cilantro, holding it up like it was a victory flag. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave at the race... but no promises if the opportunity presents itself.”

I groaned again, shaking my head. “You will kill me one day, you know?”

Maddie smirked as she placed the cilantro in the fridge, turning to me with a wink. “Hey, if you’re gonna be dating an F1 driver, you better get used to me asking all the embarrassing questions. It’s a sister’s job to keep things interesting.”

I felt my face flush at the mention of “dating” Daniel, quickly brushing it off. “Who said anything about dating? This was just a one-time thing.”

Maddie raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “Uh-huh, sure. You just happened to have a ‘one-time thing’ with Daniel Ricciardo, and now you’ve got three-day paddock passes? Girl, please.”

I crossed my arms, trying to sound firm. “We’re not dating.”

She gave me a knowing smile. “Maybe not yet, but trust me, once you’re up close and personal at that race, things might change. I mean, the man gave you paddock passes, Y/N. He’s clearly not done with you.”

I rolled my eyes again, but I couldn’t deny the flutter in my chest at her words. “Whatever, Maddie. Let’s just focus on surviving this weekend without you embarrassing me in front of him.”

Maddie grinned, stepping closer and nudging me with her elbow. “I make no promises. But I will say this—you better have fun. It’s not every day you get to hang out with a superstar. Just... remember to breathe when you see him again.”

I laughed, despite the butterflies in my stomach. “Yeah, yeah. Now help me finish putting these groceries away before Mom comes in and asks what’s taking so long.”

Maddie threw me a playful wink as she grabbed the rest of the groceries. “You got it. But I’m definitely asking for more details after the race.”

I groaned, but there was no hiding my smile. As much as Maddie drove me crazy, I couldn’t deny that having her along for this wild ride was exactly what I needed.

Maddie and I stepped into the kitchen, laughing and joking about who could embarrass me more at the race when we both suddenly stopped dead in our tracks.

Sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea like it was the most casual thing in the world, were Carrie and her mother, Savannah.

I froze, my heart sinking to my stomach. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

My mom glanced up, clearly trying to keep the peace with a polite smile, but there was no missing the tension in the air. “Oh, hey girls,” she said, in a tone that was way too casual for the situation. “We’re just having a little afternoon tea.”

Savannah gave us a small wave, her southern charm still as present as ever. “Hi, Y/N. Maddie. It’s been a while.”

Carrie glanced up at me, and for a second, I saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes. I could tell she was remembering the hotel elevator, just like I was. The awkward tension between us stretched out as thin as it could go.

In my head, a thousand thoughts ran wild. Why are they here? I knew the answer, though. My mom and Savannah had been cordial for years, mostly because they had to be. Both of them were rodeo managers for the same rodeo company, which meant they had to stay civil for the sake of work. The whole town knew their friendship was... well, strained at best. But here they were, playing nice over afternoon tea like it was some kind of forced social obligation.

Maddie, always the one to break awkward silences, cleared her throat. “Uh... hey, Mrs. Summers. Carrie.”

Carrie’s mom, Savannah, smiled politely, her perfect rodeo-queen hair barely moving as she lifted her teacup. “It’s lovely to see you two. Your mother and I were just catching up on the rodeo business.”

Of course you were, I thought bitterly. The rodeo world was so small, and no matter how much I wanted to avoid it—or Carrie—I couldn’t escape it.

My mom, sensing the tension, glanced between us. “Savannah and I were talking about the upcoming event. Looks like it’s going to be a busy season.”

Maddie shifted uncomfortably beside me. “Yeah, busy. Fun.” Her usual energy was suddenly subdued, which I knew was her way of trying to keep things from getting too awkward. Not that it was working.

Carrie, ever the queen of awkward stares, finally spoke, her tone as polite as ever. “It’s... good to see you, Y/N.” She hesitated, glancing at her mother before continuing. “How have you been?”

I forced a smile, trying not to let the awkwardness show on my face. “Great. Just, you know, busy.” Really busy fighting you in elevators and trying to forget you even exist.

Carrie nodded, sipping her tea, and the silence between us stretched even further. I could feel the weight of Savannah’s eyes on me, like she was silently assessing everything—our strained friendship, my disheveled appearance from running errands, everything.

Maddie, never one to let tension linger, piped up again. “Well, we just got back from the mart. You know, had to get that cilantro Mom keeps losing her mind over.”

Savannah smiled tightly. “Ah, yes. Cilantro can be tricky.”

I almost laughed at the absurdity of the moment, but I managed to hold it in, keeping the strained smile on my face. I just wanted this impromptu tea party from hell to be over with.

The silence in the kitchen stretched on, thick and awkward, like we were all waiting for something to break it but hoping it wouldn’t be us. I could feel Maddie’s discomfort beside me, her usual spark dimmed in the presence of Carrie and her mom. My mind raced with a mix of irritation and embarrassment—of all the days for them to be here, this had to be it.

Carrie set her teacup down gently, the soft clink of porcelain against porcelain filling the room like a final punctuation to the unbearable silence. She gave me a tight-lipped smile, that same fake pleasantness I’d grown used to over the years. “Well, it sounds like you’ve been keeping busy.”

Busy avoiding you, I thought, but instead I just nodded. “Yeah, something like that.” I forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

Savannah, ever the poised and perfect woman she was, glanced at my mom and then back at us, her hands wrapped neatly around her teacup. “It’s important to stay productive. Especially with everything going on in the rodeo season. You girls must be a big help around here.”

I bit back the urge to laugh. My mom might be cordial with Savannah for the sake of their professional lives as rodeo managers, but the subtext was loud and clear. They barely tolerated each other, both knowing that competition was part of their work, and now that tension had trickled down to Carrie and me—and Maddie by default.

Maddie, bless her, tried to keep things light. “Oh, we’re great at helping out... with, uh, grocery shopping.” She flashed a smile, holding up the cilantro like it was some grand prize. “Mom’s got us on strict cilantro duty these days.”

Mom shot Maddie a look, clearly not in the mood for her humor right now. “Thank you, Maddie.”

Savannah raised an eyebrow at Maddie’s comment, but kept her voice smooth. “Cilantro can make or break a meal, I suppose.”

Carrie glanced at me again, her eyes flicking up and down, probably still processing our awkward encounter in the hotel elevator. “You know,” she said, her voice too casual, “I think I saw you at the Hilton the other day, Y/N. Were you there for something special?”

My stomach dropped. Of course she’d bring it up.

“Yeah, I... had some errands downtown,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. No way was I going to let her know about Daniel, not with her mother sitting right there.

Maddie, though, being Maddie, had no such reservations about subtlety. “Oh, you know, just casually bumping into Formula 1 drivers. No big deal.”

Carrie’s eyes widened slightly, and I saw her mom’s eyebrows lift in surprise.

“Formula 1 drivers?” Savannah asked, her tone suddenly more interested than it had been for the entire tea party.

I shot Maddie a seriously? look, but she just grinned like she’d been waiting to drop this bomb the entire time. “Yeah, we ran into Daniel Ricciardo. Real nice guy.”

Carrie’s jaw tightened just slightly, and I could tell she was piecing it all together. She probably knew exactly what had happened in that elevator. “Wow, Daniel Ricciardo,” she said, her voice cool. “That’s... interesting.”

Savannah, ever the picture of elegance, nodded approvingly. “Well, that’s quite a meeting. Formula 1 is certainly prestigious. You must have made quite the impression.”

I resisted the urge to laugh. Yeah, I made an impression, alright. But instead, I shrugged, trying to play it off. “It was... unexpected.”

Carrie’s eyes flickered with something—maybe curiosity, maybe envy—but her lips pressed together in a tight line. “Unexpected, huh?” she said, her voice a little too casual. “I’m sure it was.”

I could tell she wasn’t buying my attempt to downplay the situation. She knew. She’d probably already started piecing together the story from the elevator and was likely imagining a whole different version of events—one where she could twist it into something more dramatic.

Savannah, on the other hand, smiled that perfectly polished smile she always had, but I could see a glint of interest in her eyes. “Well, you’re certainly moving in impressive circles these days, Y/N. Formula 1 drivers... that’s a step up from the usual rodeo crowd, don’t you think?”

I bit back a smirk. “I guess you could say that.”

Carrie’s jaw tightened a little more, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She had that look on her face—the one that said she was already planning how to bring this up the next time she was with her friends. She’d never admit it, but the idea of me bumping into someone like Daniel Ricciardo clearly irked her.

She straightened up in her seat, brushing a lock of perfectly styled hair behind her ear. “Well, it must’ve been nice to meet someone so... prestigious,” she said, her tone dripping with false politeness. “I’m sure it was a brief encounter.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep my cool. “Yeah, brief.” I decided it was better not to mention the three-day paddock passes in my back pocket. The less ammunition Carrie had, the better.

Savannah, still smiling, added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw him again at some point. Those kinds of connections have a way of resurfacing.”

I nodded, doing my best to seem nonchalant, but I couldn’t help glancing at Carrie, who was staring at me with just a little too much interest.

Carrie leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing just a bit. “So, what did you two talk about? I mean, you don’t exactly strike me as the F1 type.”

I could feel Maddie practically vibrating with excitement beside me, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable Carrie was. “Oh, we talked about racing. Rodeo. Life,” I said, keeping my response vague. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing more.

Carrie raised her eyebrow, sensing I wasn’t going to give her more details, but she couldn’t resist pushing a little further. “Rodeo, huh? That’s cute. I bet he found all of that... fascinating.”

Before I could respond, Maddie jumped in, her voice sweet but sharp. “Actually, he seemed really interested. You know, not everyone can handle a fast-paced life like Y/N’s. Some people are more into... exciting things.”

I shot Maddie a look, barely suppressing my grin as she winked at me.

Carrie’s smile faltered for just a second before she regained her composure. “Well, good for you, Y/N,” she said, her tone cold enough to send a chill through the room. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in with the race car crowd.”

Carrie’s words hung in the air like a challenge, her eyes flicking over me, searching for any sign of discomfort. But I wasn’t about to let her get the upper hand—not today.

I smiled, my voice steady. “I’m sure I will. After all, fast-paced lives aren’t for everyone.” I kept my tone light, but there was no missing the underlying message.

Carrie’s smile tightened, her fingers twitching slightly as she adjusted the strap of her designer bag. “Well, best of luck keeping up. Those kinds of people tend to leave others in the dust if they can’t handle the speed.”

Maddie, ever the bold one, didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, Y/N can handle anything. Don’t you worry about that.”

Carrie’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she forced another smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

I could practically hear Maddie holding back a giggle beside me. Carrie’s frustration was almost palpable, and I knew we were getting to her. She was always one to hold her cards close, but right now, the fact that I’d spent time with someone like Daniel Ricciardo—a man from a world far beyond Carrie’s reach—had clearly rattled her.

Savannah, ever the picture of grace, stepped in before things could escalate any further. “Alright, girls. We really must be going.” She placed a hand on Carrie’s shoulder, guiding her toward the door, but not before giving me one last glance. “You’ll have to tell us more about your Formula 1 adventures next time, Y/N.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. “We’ll see how the weekend goes.”

Carrie shot me one last look as they turned to leave, her voice almost too casual. “Enjoy the race. Let’s hope it’s as exciting as you’re expecting.”

I held her gaze, giving her the smallest of smirks. “Oh, I’m sure it will be.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Maddie let out the loudest laugh, finally letting go of all the tension that had been bubbling up during that excruciatingly polite exchange.

“Did you see her face?” Maddie said, practically bouncing with glee. “She’s absolutely livid. I can’t believe you kept your cool like that!”

I exhaled, leaning against the counter. “Barely. She almost had me when she started pushing about Daniel.”

Maddie waved her hand dismissively. “Nah, you handled that like a champ. I mean, did you see how she tried to act all nonchalant? She’s probably seething inside.”

I grinned, shaking my head. “Well, let’s hope she stews on it for a while. Maybe she’ll back off.”

Maddie laughed, grabbing a soda from the fridge. “Or maybe she’ll just get more competitive. Either way, you’re the one with the paddock passes and a date with Daniel Ricciardo.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s not a date.”

She gave me a mischievous look. “We’ll see about that.”

As Maddie and I were still laughing about the showdown with Carrie, my mom suddenly cleared her throat from the kitchen doorway. “Oh,” she said, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms, “so that’s where you were. I was wondering why you came back home looking like you’d been wrestling a tornado. Turns out you were just... banging some famous Formula 1 driver, huh?”

I froze, mid-laugh, and Maddie immediately burst into giggles, almost choking on her soda.

“MOM!” I spluttered, my face burning red. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Oh, honey,” my mom interrupted, waving a hand. “I don’t need the details. I’m just surprised you didn’t even bother to sneak in quietly after all that ‘looking for warts business’” She put heavy air quotes around her later statement, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

I rubbed my temples, feeling the embarrassment crawl up my neck. “It wasn’t... like that.”

Maddie, still giggling, jumped in. “Oh, it was exactly like that. Just wait until you hear about the cilantro.”

Mom raised an eyebrow, her smirk not fading. “Cilantro, huh? Sounds like that’s code for something else entirely.”

I groaned. “Mom! I am not having this conversation with you right now.”

She laughed, coming over and placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, sweetie. But next time, try to sneak in a little less obviously. And maybe let your poor mother know if you plan on... running into celebrities in the future.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Maddie quickly jumped in, still laughing. “Oh, don’t worry, Mom. If she ever brings Daniel Ricciardo home, you’ll be the first to know.”

My mom winked at me. “You better believe it. Just make sure to feed the poor boy—don’t want him leaving hungry after all that... grocery shopping.” She gave me a teasing smile, clearly enjoying every second of my discomfort.

I buried my face in my hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Maddie leaned over, patting me on the back with a grin. “Welcome to the family, sis. Nothing stays secret here.”

After the chaos with Carrie, my mom’s teasing, and Maddie’s relentless jokes about Daniel, I finally retreated to my room, grateful for some peace and quiet. I had a big task ahead of me, one that had been on my mind for weeks—finalizing my album. The release date was just around the corner, and there were still a few loose ends to tie up.

I sat at my desk, flipping through the notebook that held all my song lyrics. Most of the album was finished, a mix of country ballads, heartbreak anthems, and some upbeat tracks about the wild, unpredictable life of a cowgirl. But something was missing. As I strummed my guitar absentmindedly, my thoughts kept drifting back to the events of the last couple of days—the bar, the unexpected encounter with Daniel, the flirting, the way he made me feel more alive than I’d felt in a long time.

Without even thinking, I started jotting down lyrics. The melody came first, soft and steady, like a heartbeat. The words followed, spilling out onto the page as I replayed that night in my mind. The tequila, the banter, the way he leaned in close with that lazy smile, and how I’d felt—nervous, excited, like I was diving into something new and unexpected.

Before I knew it, I had a full song written about that night. The lyrics were a little cheeky, playful, and flirty, with just enough emotional undertones to make it feel real. It wasn’t like the other songs on my album, but somehow, it fit. It felt right. It felt like something I needed to include.

I sat back, looking at the lyrics on the page, and let out a breath. “Okay,” I whispered to myself, “this might actually work.”

But there was one hurdle left—convincing my manager.

I picked up my phone and called them. It didn’t take long for the line to click, and my manager’s voice came through, warm but business-like as always. “Y/N! We’re almost there. Everything’s looking good for the album release. What’s up?”

I took a deep breath. “Hey, I’ve been thinking... I wrote a new song today. It’s about something that just happened recently, and I feel like it needs to be on the album.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I could hear them flipping through notes. “A new song? Y/N, we’re cutting it pretty close to the release date. Is it finished?”

“Yeah, it’s finished. I can send you a rough cut tonight,” I said, my heart pounding a little faster now. “I know it’s last minute, but this song... it’s important. It’s different from the other tracks, but it feels like the missing piece. I don’t want it on the physical CDs or anything—we can just add it to the online release.”

Another pause, and I held my breath, waiting.

Finally, my manager spoke, their tone thoughtful. “Send it over. I’ll take a listen. If it’s as good as you’re saying, we can make it work for the digital release. But no promises until I hear it.”

A wave of relief washed over me. “Thanks, I’ll send it over in an hour.”

I hung up the phone and got to work, recording a rough version of the song. It wasn’t polished, but the emotion was there, raw and real, just like that night with Daniel. When I listened back, I smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction settle over me. This song wasn’t planned, but it felt like it was meant to be there, like it had been waiting for the right moment to come out.

Once the recording was done, I sent it off to my manager and leaned back in my chair, guitar still resting in my lap. The day had started out so wild, but now, here I was, about to add a brand-new track to my album because of an unexpected encounter at a bar with a Formula 1 driver.

It was crazy, sure—but it was my kind of crazy. The kind that made life interesting, that made music worth creating.

As soon as I hit send on the rough cut of the song to my manager, my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced down and, to my surprise, saw Daniel’s name lighting up my screen. My heart skipped a beat—I wasn’t expecting to hear from him so soon, if at all. I swiped the notification open, and his message popped up.

Daniel: 👀 So… did I win the cilantro war or what?

I snorted, shaking my head. Of course he’d bring that up.

Me: you wish... i think we agreed it was a draw, remember?

A few moments passed, and another message popped up.

Daniel: Sure, sure. I’ll let you keep telling yourself that. But really, I let you have it. Gentleman and all. 😏

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile as I typed back.

Me: oh, you let me win, huh? that’s the story you’re going with??!

Daniel: Obviously. Wouldn’t want to start a feud over herbs. You Texans can be dangerous when you don’t get your cilantro.

I chuckled to myself, feeling the tension from earlier slip away as we fell into easy banter.

Me: you’re totally right. we don’t mess around with cilantro here. it’s practically sacred!! 😭

Daniel: I’m starting to see that. 😅 So, how’s your day been, besides our grocery aisle showdown?

I hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Should I tell him about the song? About Carrie and the whole awkward tea party? I decided to keep it light for now.

Me: oh, you know... just the usual—running errands, finalizing some stuff for my album release. nothing too exciting, what about you?

His response came quickly.

Daniel: Not as exciting as your day, I’m sure. Just some press stuff and getting ready for the race. Though I guess that means I’m busy dodging questions about why I’m spending so much time in the grocery store lately. 😏

I laughed, imagining him charming his way through whatever interviews he had lined up, somehow making even his grocery shopping sound interesting.

Me: yeah, i’m sure the twitter is DYING to know all about your cilantro preferences.

Daniel: Oh, absolutely. “Ricciardo spotted in aisle five—what does this mean for the upcoming race?” 😆

Me: groundbreaking stuff😣😣. we’re really pushing the boundaries here.

His next text came through quickly, and I could almost hear the teasing in his voice.

Daniel: Speaking of groundbreaking... any chance this album’s got a song about a certain Aussie driver in it? 😏

I froze for a second, staring at his message. He had no idea how close he was to the truth.

Me: actually… funny you mention that. i may or may not have written something inspired by a recent bar encounter. 😉

There was a brief pause before his reply, and I imagined him raising an eyebrow on the other end.

Daniel: Oh? Inspired by, huh? Now you’ve got my attention. Do I get to hear this masterpiece before the rest of the world does?

I grinned, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. I wasn’t sure how he’d react, but something told me he’d find it amusing.

Me: maybe... but only if you promise not to make fun of me. i just wrote it today, so it’s still fresh. it's my newborn baby 💗💗💗

Daniel: Promise. I’m intrigued now. What’s it called?

I paused, biting my lip before typing.

Me: i haven’t decided on a title yet, but let’s just say it has a lot to do with flirting, tequila, and someone wearing a cowboy hat...😏

His response came quickly, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Daniel: Well, that narrows it down. Sounds like a banger already. 😎 When do I get to hear it?

I hesitated, unsure if I was really ready to let him listen to something so personal so soon. But then again, the whole point of the song was how unexpected and spontaneous things had been with him.

Me: soon...maybe if you behave yourself at the race. 😏

Daniel: Behave? Me? I’ll do my best, but no promises. 😉

I rolled my eyes, grinning at the screen. He had a way of keeping things light, but there was still something underneath all the teasing that felt... real.

Me: alright alright cowboy, well, you’ll have to wait just like everyone else then. patience is a virtue, right?!

Daniel: Patience is overrated, but for you, I guess I can try. 😎

I laughed, shaking my head. This was getting too fun.

Me: good. now go prepare for your race before you get too distracted.

Daniel: Oh, trust me, I’m already distracted. You’re making it hard to focus on track times, you know that?

I felt a blush creep up my neck at his words, though I tried to brush it off with my usual sarcasm.

Me: well, o wouldn’t want to be responsible for messing up your race. just remember to keep it on track. 😏

His response came with a playful challenge.

Daniel: Challenge accepted. Just don’t be surprised when I win—and not just on the track. 😉

I let out a laugh, shaking my head in disbelief.

Me: we’ll see about that, Ricciardo.

Daniel: Count on it.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

author's note: comment to be added to the taglist! i'll probably update in 1-2 weeks after i get a few more chapters out in my op81 lay all your love on me fic...stay tuned xx <3

[bambamramfan]

What If They Win

Too much has been written about the horse race of this election, but not nearly enough analysis about how either administration will govern. There's some fearmongering about Project 2025 or courtpacking, but that's propaganda not actual predictions.

(FWIW, I think Trump has this race in the bag, but can understand people who still hope think this is a coin flip.)

If Harris Wins...

Harris has held together a remarkable coalition of people against Trump. Mainstream Democratic politicians, YIMBY pundit technocrats, far lefters holding their nose, and Republican neoconservatives. This is no criticism, it's pretty impressive how they are coming together to defeat a common enemy, and I really really would like them to win.

But what happens to a coalition defined by a common enemy, after they win? Let's assume the best case scenario and she gets a Democratic Senate who confirms her cabinet and some SCOTUS judges.

Who supports Harris in the press, or is vote-corraling for her in Congress? Not those Republicans who hope to turn a page on the Trump era. Not a far left who has decided to hate her as a centrist sell out. Not moderate dems who will run away from any hint of weakness. Maybe a few of those YIMBY pundits who hope she's actually committed to more houses and nuclear power. But that's no political hyperpower.

What would her first major bill be? Who would support it? It will be just one scandal plagued administration with little support from any quarter that makes its ground breaking "first" for subaltern identities a disappointing token. The David Dinkens of the White House.

I predict that President Harris would have the lowest approval rating in her first year of any President we have polling for. It's gonna be brutal, and an easy 2028 win for Republicans (who hopefully won't be running 82 year old Trump.)

If Trump Wins...

This is the interesting one. I've heard a lot of people say that a second Trump term will be even worse than the first because he's fully unleased now and no one can stop him from doing what he really wants. And I think this is partly true.

I just don't think what he wants is "Republican authoritarian rule." Sure, he will probably let the Fed Society still pick the judges (which he never cared about besides thinking they should be loyal to him) and there will almost certainly be a tax cut/extension. But besides that?

In the first Trump term, he had VP Pence, Jeff Sessions as AG, governors like Chris Christie, and three establishment figures at State, Defense, and Treasury making a pact that if Trump fires one they all resign. It was an actual coalition of Republicans and Trumpists who need each other. Even Jared Kushner was pretty establishment friendly (he's the one who approved Pence.)

Jared and Ivanka are gone now, replaced by Eric and Donjr. The VP is a Thiel-acolyte who isn't anti-Republican but sure is "from the blogs." And the endorsers Trump touts are RFK Jr, Tulsi Gabbard, Elon Musk (while more and more mod Republicans endorse Harris.)

This isn't a Trump face over a body of Republicans - this is a Trump leader over all the fringe outsiders of American weirdo culture. I think Trump *actually does* want to appoint RFK to Secretary of Health, and indulge in every conspiracy, organic hippie, crunchy nonsense - which actually has a lot of believers across the country, but extremely little following in DC itself.

I think this will be hilarious beyond our wildest dreams of entertainment. It will not be a functional fascism - it will be closer to Jill Stein and Richard Branson and Andrew Tate. He'll try to pass laws that every kid in America needs to eat healthy and also work in a McDonalds.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 15: The Drawing Room

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer from a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: 18+ - explicit sexual content, language Word count: 5.7k

Masterpost Previous Chapter Next chapter

Author's notes: Thank you all for your patience waiting for this chapter. I'll have to request some more because the next three chapters aren't completed yet. Lately life has been full of busyness and change, in a good way, but it's leaving me with little time or energy to write. Know that I'm always endeavoring to do so. 💙 Now that our lovebirds have had a taste of each other, they are all aboard the horny train. Enjoy 😉

For the rest of the day Benedict never had a moment to himself. The house was bustling as every nook and cranny was cleaned, every guest room opened, and every surface beautified. A parade of tradesmen rolled down the drive throughout the day hauling carts of meat, wine, candles and firewood. While Daphne began taking scrupulous inventory, she sent him and Simon off to meet with the groundskeeper to make sure there were plenty of pheasants and fish on the grounds and plenty of fresh horses in the stables to accommodate any outdoor activities the visiting men would want to partake in.

He saw Sophie only twice that day. Once amidst a group of maids who were clearing away tea trays midday, and once when she came to tend the fire in the smoking room where he and Simon were enjoying an after-dinner brandy. His breath caught each time he saw her, noting how she stood out as the brightest spot in the room. She did her best to avert her eyes but stole a quick glance at him each time. How he longed to shove her into a corner, tear off her silly apron and make her moan. But he kept himself in check and pretended to ignore her.

After he had bid the Hastings goodnight he was so bone tired he collapsed into bed without even thinking to seek Sophie out. He had no doubt she was overwhelmed too.

The next morning he woke from a particularly salacious dream about her to find himself stiff under his sheets. God, he needed to see her. He managed to calm his racing blood by splashing cold water onto his face, then went to join everyone for breakfast. 

He didn’t see her as he took an unnecessarily winding path to the dining room, and he didn’t see her while they ate. He distracted himself by teaching little Barnaby how to crack open a soft boiled egg. Daphne sighed as yolk was predictably spilled across the table, but Simon just laughed and slid his own egg over for the boy to try again, successfully. 

When the meal was over Benedict attempted to leave, but Daphne and Simon pulled him into serious debate over the seating arrangements for their guests. The Viscountess had provided a preliminary plan but Daphne had concerns about certain pairings based on recent gossip Kate may not have heard. Benedict closed his eyes to hide that they were rolling. The last thing he wanted to do was chatter about the scandals of the ton, but he had no excuse to leave without seeming rude. He did his best to grin and bear it, passing quiet commentary on people he couldn’t care less about, and all the time thinking of the color of Sophie’s bare skin in candlelight.

When a seating plan was apparently agreed upon, Simon suggested an outing to the lake which made Benedict perk up. He supported the idea, perhaps over-enthusiastically, and insisted on staying behind at the house to keep an eye on everything. Then, as politely as he could, he bowed out of the room and began to hunt. 

Sophie wasn’t in the morning room or the music room or the conservatory. She wasn’t on any of the staircases he passed. He even walked to the far end of the house and looked out to the kitchen garden only to find that she was not there. He debated going down to the servants’ level and asking for her, but wondered how odd that would be. He was doubling back through the halls when he turned and stopped short.

Sophie stood at a small credenza outside the drawing room, setting down a vase filled with a huge spray of flowers. Blues, purples and pinks all evidently picked from the grounds outside. Her fingers ran over them delicately, fanning out the blooms.

Benedict moved to her side. “There you are,” he breathed, his eyes locking onto hers. She was so lovely, her features alight with excitement at seeing him.

“Benedict…”

The flowers were fragrant between them, the pink blossoms calling out the soft hue of her lips. He couldn’t help but bring his fingers to rest over hers on the vase, standing close enough to whisper in her ear.

“The family are going to the lake for the afternoon. Meet me…”

“Ah! Brother.” Daphne’s voice cut in from behind them, causing them both to jump and retract their hands. Without a word or a glance back, Sophie bowed her head and scurried through the drawing room door.

Benedict whirled around with a well-practiced smile on his face. “Sister!”

The Duchess paused, hands clasped in front of her with a curious and discerning look on her face. But it passed so quickly, Benedict wasn’t sure if he just imagined it. She continued. “I just wanted to tell you we were about to leave. You’re sure you won’t join us?”

His mind was racing. Overcome with thoughts of Sophie, he had forgotten why he had said he would stay behind. He stumbled over his words. “Sadly, no. I have…correspondence that needs my attention.”

His sister arched a brow at him. He knew she was keen at sniffing out the truth, so he reasoned it was better to feign deception than feign truth. He gave her a devilish grin. “Or maybe a mallet that needs hiding…”

That seemed to do the trick because she returned a competitive smirk and nodded her head curtly. “Very well. We shall return in a few hours.” Then she turned and walked out of sight.

Benedict released an exhale. He didn’t know how much she had seen or intuited, but it surely couldn’t have been much. He was standing next to a maid. He could have been helping her with the heavy vase for all she knew. But thoughts of his sister detecting them would have to wait. He now had hours alone with Sophie. He moved into the drawing room and locked the door.

Sophie was standing at the far end of the sunlit room, pacing in front of a bookshelf. He rushed toward her.

“Sophie! They’ve gone.” 

Taking her face in his hands, he pulled her into a kiss and she melted against him, her lips opening to the soft caresses of his tongue. It was sweet, breathless.

He pulled back, whispering against her lips. “We haven’t been able to talk. The other night…”

She gave him a small smile, her fingers wrapping around his wrists. “It was perfect.”

Benedict sighed, pressing his forehead against hers and matching her smile. He was so relieved to be with her again. So happy that she was happy. 

She continued, “I hadn’t expected everything would feel so good. Thank you for teaching me. For being so gentle with me.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and his hands dropped to her waist. “So you enjoyed it?”

She rolled her eyes. “I thought that was rather obvious.” Then she lowered her gaze and started to blush. “In truth, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Benedict’s heart beat faster at discovering she had been feeling the same way he had. His voice became a purr as he bent to her ear. “Is that so? What precisely is running through your mind?”

“Ben…” Sophie shuddered. She knew she was being coy by revealing her thoughts. Perhaps it was not ladylike to be so honest about one’s desires. But she had never stopped thinking about him since she had left his bed the prior morning. While she carried linens to guest rooms, she remembered the feeling of him pressing her down onto his sheets. While she drank her tea, she remembered the warmth of his tongue in her mouth. While she looked down to see her hand dusting furniture, she remembered the grip of his long fingers around her ribs and in her hair. The previous night she had felt such an ache for him that she throbbed between her legs. All this morning she had been overheated, fanning herself between chores. Now she was in his arms again and all she wanted was to share that heat, to be lost to it and satisfy the overwhelming yearning.

Benedict began planting small kisses down the curve of her jaw. “Come now, you can’t say something like that and not elaborate.” One arm pulled her by the waist to press fully against him while his other hand rose to cup her face, a thumb toying at the corner of her lips. 

He whispered in her ear. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either, how glorious it was feeling you come apart.” Sophie’s eyes fluttered closed, her breath grew heavy. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he coaxed.

Her mind was growing foggy, only able to focus on sensations. “Your hands,” she sighed. “The way they held me.”

In one swift motion he tore her apron off and flung it across the room. Then with a rip he whisked away the sheer collar at the top of her dress, the ruffle that made a maid’s uniform more modest than that of a lady’s. He traced his fingers across her collarbone and wrapped them behind her neck, holding her tightly against him. He continued his kisses, feathering across the new, lowered neckline of her dress.

Sophie could not bring herself to care about a torn servant’s uniform. It wasn’t hers anyway. It belonged to the house and she was just wearing it while she stayed at Aubrey Hall as a…whatever she was now. She was drowning in his touch, her voice far away and heady. “Your lips…everywhere.”

His tongue flicked across the top of her breast before he pressed his mouth just below her ear, sucking with an undeniable possessiveness. 

Sophie’s whole body was tingling, the sound of her racing blood filling her ears. She could feel the ache building between her thighs.

“The feeling of you inside me,” she rasped, scarcely able to breathe anymore. “Things I could never imagine. Everything was so warm…so beautiful.”

Benedict’s breath was heavy. He moved his hands to grasp her breast and her bottom, squeezing and kneading, his weight pressing into her.

She couldn’t stand the seduction any longer. She needed him. Now. Desperately. “Take me there again,” she whispered, gripping into his hair. “I don’t want you to be gentle.” 

Benedict paused, expletives echoing in his mind. He certainly hadn’t been expecting this. This lusty and adventurous side of Sophie. Though he supposed he should have known better. She was a strong willed woman. Why wouldn’t that extend to her romantic desires now that she knew how many possibilities there were? 

“Sophie,” he groaned, nuzzling his cheek against the soft waves of her hair. 

“Ben, please.” But it was more of a command than a plea. His stomach fluttered at the sound of his nickname on her lips. He wanted to take her in the fullest way with his whole body, but he didn’t know if that was her request. It would be a hell of a thing to take her maidenhood in a drawing room. But as scandalously exciting as that seemed, Sophie deserved better. When she was ready he would take her in a bed, in privacy and comfort.

Happy to do whatever else she ordered, he grasped her at the nape and began to devour her with ravenous kisses. Their lips never parting, he pushed her across the room until her back hit the wall. 

Sophie was giddy with the whirlwind of their passion and couldn’t help herself from grinning between their frenzied kisses. She frantically stripped him of his jacket while he dug beneath her skirt, lifting and pulling layers of fabric until they bunched around her waist. She watched, mouth open with shock, as he laved one hand with a long swipe of his tongue then brought it between her legs to ready her. Gasping at the sensation, she barely had time to think before he lifted her off the floor, pressed her against the wall and buried his fingers inside of her, exhaling with a wide grin at the rapturous look it brought to her face. 

Sophie actually cursed under her breath, thrilled at the familiar feeling, the rhythmic stretch ready to drive her into a delirium of pleasure. Her arms clung around his shoulders while he began drilling his hand into her wildly, teasing her nub with his thumb. He pinned her against the wall with one shoulder and held her thigh with his free hand. Sophie locked her ankles around his waist to hold on. This was desire, this was passion, this desperate need to be as close to each other as possible, to give and seek pleasure. She couldn’t believe she had found it with Benedict Bridgerton of all people. She ached with the suffocating joy of it, all other thoughts about her secrets or their doomed future banished for the moment from her mind. She didn’t even worry that they were in a public room of the house or that anyone might hear them. He was everything she could feel, everything she could smell and see and think about, and it was rapturous. 

Benedict grunted against her neck. Every part of Sophie felt so damn good. Her gasps were so exquisite, her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips locked him against her, feeding his own arousal. And all of it was heightened by the unexpected discovery of her deviancy. She was no wilting wallflower, no meek and submissive young miss. She was a woman, intent and purposeful in her actions and words. A woman who could excite and entice and challenge him. Of course he had been with an array of sexually promiscuous women before, but this was something else. He was not passing in and out of a repertoire of men that Sophie sought pleasure with. He knew that she felt this way only toward him, now being the one man she had indulged with. He could sense the trust between them and it’s what made him ignore his better judgment and cavort with her all over his family home. He certainly would never have done so with any of the other women he had been with. 

This too made his blood race, the scandalousness of it all. How he had tasted and pleasured and lost himself to this woman wherever he found her - in the nursery, the orangery, in his sister-in-law’s damn drawing room. It was licentious and he loved it. He slowed the pace of his hand as his arms began to shake with the effort. He wanted this to last and he wanted to ensure her the release that she was so clearly longing for. Perhaps it was time for another lesson.

Sophie’s eyes opened as Benedict slowed his movements. He cupped her backside and pivoted to set her atop the nearby writing desk. He pulled one of her arms from his neck and brought it down between their bodies, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He kissed her as he pressed her own fingers against her bud and guided them, swirling in small circles as he had done before. The electricity that shot through Sophie’s muscles hitched her breath and she mewled against his lips. She could feel him smiling through his kiss as he guided her hand for a few more moments and then left her to her own devices.

Sophie was sure she would have felt self-conscious touching herself in front of Benedict if he didn’t clearly enjoy it so much. He watched her with the hint of a smirk on his face, his hooded eyes urging her to continue what he started. For a moment she felt like an absolute fool. She hadn’t attempted to pleasure herself after he had shown her what was possible. Whether she was ignorant or because it just felt so frighteningly good when he did it that she wanted to reserve the act for him, she wasn’t sure. But now he had put her in control and she knew she needed to try. She should be able to bring herself to her pinnacle, and there was the practical matter of being able to address her own needs when they arose. She certainly couldn’t go leaping upon Benedict in drawing rooms every time she felt desire, despite how tempting that was. 

Following the motions he had shown her, she circled and tickled her fingers, chasing that tightening, maddening feeling. 

“There you are,” his voice was husky. He pressed himself between her spread thighs and looked down at her ravenously. “You look so magnificent, Sophie. You know you can touch yourself whenever you feel that ache.”

She whined in the back of her throat, fingers pressing harder. He bent forward and whispered, breath hot against the shell of her ear.

“Will you do that? Promise to think of me and touch yourself when you are alone.” He had the very voice of the devil but damn it if it didn’t make sparks fly behind her eyelids and make her grow even wetter.

“I promise,” she choked, twirling her bud faster, thighs squeezing to hold him against her.

“Because I have thought of you,” he confessed, slipping his fingers into her once again and sliding rhythmically. “I have thought of your lovely voice and beautiful body…the emeralds in your eyes…and taken myself in hand.”

His every confession pushed her higher. The thought of him pleasuring himself out of desire for her made her clench and she knew he felt it. She knew he was goading her on, pushing her into such a fuzzy, naughty place with just his words. How was it possible? She swore under her breath again and bore down upon his hand, chasing sensation, unable to control herself.

He chuckled darkly. “That’s it. Fuck yourself on my fingers. Take what you want.”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, suddenly aware of how blatantly wanton she was being.

His nose brushed her cheek. “No, I like it. I want to hear more curses from your lips.”

It was getting harder to breathe, harder to think. Sophie wasn’t sure she could come up with anything enticing or clever to say. But true to form, Benedict seemed to anticipate her and took the lead.

He wrapped an arm around her back, cradling her head in his palm. He sucked a small trail of kisses from her earlobe to her lips, nibbling at the corner of her mouth. Then he drove his fingers into her harder, building a steady pace, making the contents of the writing desk clink and jitter.

“Press yourself down and say you love fucking my fingers.” His voice was low.

The sin of his words cut through her and she paused.

“Don’t stop touching yourself,” he ordered.

This man was ruinous, but Sophie could not hide that she loved it. She swirled her fingers around her bud and began to push back against his thrusting fist, bouncing lightly up and down in his arms. 

“I love fucking your fingers,” she whispered. There was no exaggeration in it. The rhythm they built together, working her sex inside and out, was a rapture she could barely stand. Benedict’s hand plunging into her and his body pressing against hers as they rocked fed the fire building within. Sophie discovered new sensations, new exclamations that her body made when she touched herself in certain places, in certain ways. Tinglings that Benedict had not yet elicited. It was engrossing and she wondered if she was in danger of not being able to stop exploring herself when left alone. 

“I love fucking your fingers, Ben.” She said with more gravity, forcing his eyes to meet hers, both of their pupils blown wide. The pressure of his hand and her body driving together, the scent of his cologne, the intuitive dance of her fingers, and the rhythmic jangling of the writing desk propelled her to the brink quickly. Gasping, her thighs began to quake. She gripped his shoulder tightly and let her head loll his hand. 

“Yes, come on, Sophie.” He hissed. “Make yourself come on me.” The absolute wickedness of his tongue caused her to snap. Waves of gratification pulsed through her, making her shudder and against all attempts to stop it, moan. Benedict surged forward and kissed her open-mouthed, trying to swallow her sounds. Her whole body bucked against him as she rode out the wave, every part of her fluttering and squeezing, her channel, her fingers, her toes. Once she managed to quiet herself he broke the kiss and grinned, peppering her face and neck with little nips as she caught her breath.

Sophie felt numb with ecstasy and decidedly proud of herself. Now she knew how to bring herself pleasure when alone, but she knew it could never be as intense as what Benedict helped her achieve. She would have to imagine his voice and his fingers and it would no doubt pale in comparison to the real thing. 

As she was tingling and floating down from her high, Benedict nuzzled her ear, rumbling. “Was that everything you needed?”

She shuddered. Her hunger for him persisted. She wanted to make him moan and tremble too. She had an image of him in her mind that she wanted to act out, a way in which she was desperate to feel him against her body. She knew how she wanted him to finish. Once she could form words again, she whispered, “I want to be on top of you.”

Benedict paused and she could feel his heart pounding against her. Then he let out what she could only describe as a growl as he lifted her off the desk and carried her over to the nearest sofa. Easing down, he sat so that she was astride him and looked up at her expectantly, hungrily, the midday light dancing in his stormy eyes. The tent in his trousers protruded just in front of her body and she was desperate to touch it.

“Lie down,” she said gently. 

The excited spark in his eyes was undeniable as he twisted to recline against the cushions, holding her by the hips. His legs hung over the sofa arm. It wasn’t a long piece of furniture and couldn’t contain all of him, but she estimated it was wide enough for what she wanted to attempt.

He watched her, brows raised in curiosity as she rested her weight on his thighs. Breathing unevenly, she leaned forward and pressed her palm against his bulge. She moved her hand slowly but firmly across his length, gripping him with the pressure he had shown her before.

He arched back into the cushions with a groan, causing a playful smirk to dance across her lips. Then she shifted forward and sank her hips down onto his. She could feel the rigidity of his cock against her most sensitive spot even through their clothing and it made her muscles seize. She spread both hands across his abdomen to steady herself.

Benedict looked up at her with hazy eyes.

“Sophie…what are you…?”

“I want to ride you.” She said huskily.

A stab of bashfulness was quickly overridden by the heat building again between her thighs. She felt driven by instinct; something primal telling her precisely what to do. She had found release against Benedict’s thigh before and now she wanted to find it against his cock in the hopes that she could bring them both pleasure simultaneously.

Slowly she rolled her hips forward and back, testing, dragging her bud along the length of him with steady pressure. A tightening sensation shot up her spine and her breath hitched.

“Like this,” she rasped, repeating the motion. “Just like this.” She began to move faster, rocking against him, her hands pressing down onto his stomach. “Is this alright?”

Benedict’s eyes rolled back into his head and he felt as if he would choke on his tongue. 

“God, Sophie…” He could feel the delicious heat of her wet center through his clothes and the press of her pubic bone stroking him rhythmically. He gripped her hips and pulled her down even tighter.

Encouraged, Sophie grinned and rocked faster, pressing harder.

“Will you come this way?” Her voice was breathy and bouncing with her movements.

Benedict squeezed his eyes shut, tossing his head back against the cushions. 

“Yes…fuck!” He ground out, teeth clenching. “Please don’t stop,” he pleaded. “Just please, don’t stop.”

Spurred on by his array of needy noises and the desperate dance of his brows over his clamped eyes, Sophie rode him steadily, grinding their bodies together as her knees propelled her up and down. Benedict’s grip on her hips was almost painful but she relished being held so tightly, being needed so badly. The rising wave of climax that was now growing familiar to her was starting to build where their bodies met, pulsing and warming with each drag across his stiffness.

They were both doing their best to stay quiet, the only sounds in the room were the cadenced rustle of fabric and their tight, short breaths as they both climbed toward release.

Benedict’s mind was fuzzy, overwhelmed with the beauty and surprise of Sophie’s intuitiveness. She knew how to listen to her body, even though each experience was new to her, and she was fearless in taking charge. God, how he admired those traits in a woman, and to find them in a housemaid was the most exciting revelation. Through the blinding pleasure he managed to look up and watch her, marveling at her steady pace, her hair mussed from passion, her lips parting to release her nearly silent whimpers.

“So you like this?” He rasped, causing her eyes to fall to his. “Being on top of me?”

Sophie nodded. “Yes.” She panted. “I just need to press against something hard. And your cock is so hard, Ben.”

The filth of her narration rattled him and he felt his cock begin to leak. His head fell back again as he spouted a stream of curses and unintelligible nonsense. Madness. That’s what this was. Romping with this woman wantonly on a sofa he had clambered over since childhood, with household staff listening on the other side of the door no doubt. But he didn’t care, couldn’t care. The freedom, the excitement, and the intensity he felt with Sophie was unlike anything he had experienced. This beautiful housemaid that he had randomly encountered on the side of the road was leading him to absolute ruin and he wanted her to. That she was willing and eager to be with him and that they could continue their secret rendezvouses flooded him with joy. The thought of future afternoons spent like this with Sophie made him impossibly stiffer.

They were bucking against each other frantically now, any concern for subtlety or gentleness gone. Benedict pushed his hips up while his hands pulled her down hard, pinning her tight against his cock. Her fingers curled into his clothes. They both grew breathless, rubbing themselves through the heat they had built together.

Suddenly, Benedict hissed. “Sophie…unbutton me.” His hand left her hip and dragged her fingers to his waistcoat. She moved deftly, working bottom to top to loosen the luxurious plum colored fabric. She pulled it away to either side of his chest, as he pushed up the hem of his shirt to expose his rippled abdomen. Sophie brought her hands back to rest on his bare skin, groaning at the firmness of his muscles and how they were contracting with each thrust against her.

“Sophie,” His voice was deep and urgent. She met his eyes, dilated black. “I need you to come for me. I can’t hold out much longer.” 

She grew a look of desperation as she bounced above him, face flushed. “Ben…I don’t know…I’m almost…”

“Quickly…lift your skirts,” he ground out, easing his thrusts as she obeyed. “Come here,” he huffed, his large hands grabbing her rear and pulling her suddenly forward. Her knees shuffled and she fell to grip the far sofa arm before she collapsed on top of him. Then the molten heat of his mouth enveloped her under her skirts and sucked hard. The shock of it made her instinctively lurch away, but he held her firmly in place, grunting against her sodden flesh as his strong tongue nudged her toward the end. 

One hand locking Sophie to his face, Benedict slid the other to maneuver his cock out of his trousers and pump himself ferociously. He felt wild, animalistic with need, with the mindless race to grant them both release. He hadn’t felt heat like this in years, maybe ever in his life. She had ridden him to steely stiffness and he gave way, groaning against her folds as he spattered hot across his bare stomach.

His sounds must have helped to finish Sophie off because her thighs went rigid on either side of his head and she bore down, writhing on his tongue as he felt the faint pulse of her muscles seizing within. To her credit she did not cry out, or at least he didn’t hear her, deafened as he was under her skirts and lost in his own fog.

Sophie squirmed a moment more, then shuffled off of him. He was still descending back to himself, his eyes still focusing, when he saw that she had retrieved her apron and was laying it across his stomach to clean him. As he regained his senses he felt a sudden pang of shame. Some of his devil-may-care enthusiasm evaporated with the cooling of his sweat, making him question the recklessness of his cavorting all over the grounds with Sophie, especially when his sister and her family were visiting. Any of the servants could have heard them just now, or gotten the spare key and opened the door. He wondered if he had stained the sofa…

And poor Sophie was always left to clean up and scurry back to work when he wanted to leave her lounging in luxury, basking in the gratitude she deserved for bringing him such untold pleasure. He gently pushed her hand away and cleaned himself with the apron, tossing it to the floor and buttoning himself back into his many layers of clothes. Sophie found her collar and discovered that it had only lost one clasp. She was able to tuck it back under her neckline and fasten it to look pristine again. 

Once she had straightened everything she sat beside Benedict on the sofa. He was breathing deeply, lost in thought.

She opened gently. “I suppose we still haven’t talked properly.” 

“No.” His eyes turned to her, indecipherable. “I just…I’m not sure what this is. I feel like a cad. Keeping you hidden and watching you work for my family.”

“I want to work.” She offered a small, reassuring smile.

Benedict shook his head. “You say that but…are you sure I can’t take care of you?”

She knew what he was thinking. As much as she wanted this conversation settled and not repeated, she couldn’t deny that their current arrangement was confusing. That they were dancing in an undefined limbo. It would be simpler if she would simply end her life of servitude, take his money and let him house and clothe her somewhere, keeping her in comfort for his secret, exclusive visits. But she just couldn’t do it. The day would come when she would fall pregnant or he would tell her he was engaged and then everything in her life would shatter.

She could feel her jaw locking into place. “Benedict, you said you wouldn’t ask me to be your mistress.”

His eyes turned back to the floor, his tone exasperated. “I know, but I just…”

“What do you want?” She rested a hand on his knee, leaning toward him. She couldn’t understand his resistance to her proposal. Clearly it wasn’t just the risk that they may be caught, given how he had advanced on her in so many common areas. Wouldn’t he be happier to keep her as a dalliance rather than a full blown mistress? Wouldn’t he be glad of the money and effort he would be saving?

Benedict inhaled deeply and met her eyes, piercing through her with his pale blue stare. “To be with you.” He said softly. “To have moments like this.”

Sophie’s heart fluttered. His tenderness seemed to have no limits. She gripped his knee and his hand came to rest over hers. “Then be with me,” she insisted, “and the rest of our lives can stay the same.”

He nodded, swallowing. After a beat, he asked, “So you will stay?”

She nodded back. “If you’ll let me. I’ll work during the country visit as you suggested.”

Benedict squeezed her hand then stood, raking his fingers to smooth his hair and shrugging his jacket back on. “My family will be here in two days, then the guests will arrive.”

Sophie stood too but kept her place by the sofa. “We should keep our distance once they are in residence.”

Paces apart, they stared at one another, the midday sun reaching across the rug to where they stood, betraying the small expressions of sadness on both of their brows. “Of course.” Benedict mumbled. Sophie bent and collected her soiled apron, feeling equally like she wanted to dart out of the room and throw herself back into his arms. This was complicated, painful. But not as painful as being without him had been. And not as painful as devoting herself to be his mistress then returning to a life of nothing before she had to share him with another woman. This was odd, but it was still the most joy she had experienced in her life. It was in between. Just as she was in between. An aristocrat’s daughter but not accepted among the ton. Raised as a lady but living as a maid. Hers was a life of contradictions, of complications, of halves. But in these moments with Benedict she could forget that and she could feel whole. Even if just for an hour, it was worth it.

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @eg-dr3amer3 @time-to-hit-the-clouds @lyta2323 @autumn-grace @sadprose-auroras @the-other-art-blog @goldrambutan @colettebronte @heeyyyou @musicismyoxygen84 @faye-tale @ambitionspassionscoffee @starchaser325 @malna4903 @sincere-sarcasm @kmc1989 @makaylan @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @alexandrainlove

[bluelocksource]

Oliver Aiku’s trivia (source: twt & Egoist Bible 2)

"I'm the final barrier for Japanese soccer to be reborn!!"

☆ Character colors: Navy, fluorescent yellow.

☆ Weapons: Strong physical abilities, highly developed 'eyes' for spatial awareness, a 'body' skilled in dashing and jumping, and covering.

☆ Birthday: 30th June.

☆ Current age: 19.

☆ Zodiac: Cancer.

☆ Birthplace: Stockholm, Sweden.

☆ Family structure: Father (dual heritage: Swedish & German). Mother (Japanese). Older Sister. Himself, Younger Sister.

☆ Current height: 190 cm.

☆ Dominant foot: Right foot.

☆ Blood type: B.

☆ Motto: "Live according to your means."

☆ Starts playing football: At age 3.

☆ Hobbies: Mahjong, horse racing, pachinko "Not saying I bet money."

☆ Favorite food: Mouko (Mongolian) Tanmen Nakamoto's spicy ramen. "I generally like spicy foods." + Shin ramyeon (EB2).

☆ Disliked food: Corn. "Those things always gets stuck between my teeth."

☆ What goes best with rice: Squid salted with salt (ikano shio-kara). "It’d be perfect with some alcohol. Ah… wait, I’m still 19."

☆ Favorite animal: Chicks. "Watching a lot of chicks soothes me."

☆ Favorite season: Summer. "You can see swimsuits."

☆ Favorite football player: Virgil van Dijk.

☆ Favorite manga: Chi: Chikyuu no Undou ni Tsuite (Orb: On the Movements of the Earth). "Currently into it."

☆ Magazine he frequently read: Da Vinci. "I just casually flip through it, but it’s interesting."

☆ Favorite TV show: Live camera of night views. "I like watching it alone, zoning out."

☆ Favorite movie: Jurassic Park. "The first movie in the series is amazing."

☆ Favorite song: "CALL ME" by YOSHII LOVINSON.

☆ Favorite celebrity: "The comedian I'm into right now, New York." ( New York (ニューヨーク) is a Japanese comedy duo.)

☆ What makes him happy: Anything that feels good (self-censorship).

☆ What makes him upset: Painful things (self-censorship).

☆ What he thinks his strength is: Calm, rational, realistic.

☆ What he thinks his weakness is: He likes to gamble and looking for a relationship that is difficult to predict. "I like gambling and tend to seek relationships that can't be predicted."

☆ What made him cry recently: “I haven’t cried in a while.”

☆ Favorite/best subject: P.E.

☆ Weak/least favorite subject: Math. "I don't get it at all."

☆ Ideal type:  Someone who doesn't seem to be bothered by a breakup. "Someone who doesn't seem like they'd be a hassle to break up with."

☆ Number of chocolates received from previous Valentine: 13. "I'm not that fond of chocolate."

☆ At what age he experiences first love: 7 years old. "I liked every girl in my class."

☆ The first time he got confessed to: “Generally, even if someone confesses to me, I don’t date them. I prefer being the one to confess. I like the challenge of making them fall for me.”

☆ Fixation: Waist, butt, lips, eyes. "Anything er*tic works."

☆ Average sleeping time: 7 hours.

☆ How he spend his holiday: “Look for someone to hang out with (either guys or girls) and just have fun.”

☆ When taking a bath, which part he washes first: Hair roots. "Because they're smelly from sweat."

☆ What he usually buy from the convenience store: Shin Ramyeon or Mongolian Tanmen Nakamoto cup noodles.

☆ What will he do if he received 100 million yen: "Live it up. Party until I run out of money."

☆ At what age he stops receiving presents from Santa: "Probably around 10 years old."

☆ What was his last wish from Santa: New soccer cleats.

☆ What will he do during his last day on Earth: "No plan, just spend the day randomly."

☆ Favorite historical figure: Uesegi Kenshin. "The war god who lived by honor, I really like him."

☆ If he hadn’t encountered soccer, what will he be doing: “I’d be a teacher. My class would be fun. It’d be super laid-back!”

☆ If he could only take one thing to a deserted island, what would it be: Acohol. “I’ll drink it when I turn 20! I’ll drink when I turn 20, okay!”

☆ If he had a time machine, would he go to the past or the future: The future. I want to see how Japanese soccer has evolved!”

* The crossed words are the changes made from twitter’s answer to the answer from Egoist Bible.

His original tagline:

日本サッカーが生まれ変わるための 愛空(おれ) は最後の壁だ!! "Aiku is (I'm) the final barrier for Japanese soccer to be reborn!!"

Last updated: 13/11/2024

note: i want to apologize in advance for any mistake made in the translation!

[owlespresso]

Leander coddles you. Ais would teach you learn how to fly by dropping you.

Ais abides by your requests for assistance, suspiciously often for someone who acts so disinterested. He stalks your shadow, and ultimately sends you headlong into danger. The best way to make someone honest is through fear. The best way to help someone learn is similar. Danger provides a motivation that he knows can elevate you. 

He stalks your shadow and banters with you as you head towards your destination, sometimes quiet, sometimes playful. Regardless, there’s almost always a steadying hand on your shoulder, accompanied by the knowledge that he believes in you, and what you can accomplish.

Minutes or hours later, when you are surrounded by enemy gang members or a pack of bloodthirsty soulless, he is nowhere to be seen. He slinks away, keeping careful distance as he observes your reactions, notes your capabilities or your lack of them. 

Upon reuniting with him, he takes your petulant rage with easy coolness, pointedly educating or reminding you about his philosophies and methods. 

This is the most efficient way to teach you, he reasons. He chases away your anger with placating words and genuine compliments. He strokes a soothing hand down your shuddering spine, sweeps you into the strong cage of his arms to rock you back and forth. His chaste comfort quickly changes into something carnal, something a deeper red when he glides his sharp canines down the side of your throat, noses over your pulse. Your blood races now for a different reason.

Or perhaps, it is a way to carefully let you know how much you need him. 

Leander is steadfast to your side whenever he catches you leaving the Wet Wick. His followers and partitioners are left abandoned, business shoved aside for later for the lone purpose of tailing you. He’s not sure if you’re aware of how valuable his time is, how in demand he is across Lowtown—but that’s also what may charm him.

He eagerly assists you in every task. He slings spells at your foes to defend you, pulls you away from the line of fire and into his side. He opens doors for you, pulls out chairs, extends a hand when you have to jump down from a fence or a crate. Like a prince helping you off a horse.

He wants you to depend on him. The Bloodhounds and regulars of the Wick become increasingly aware of his attachment to you, the claim he has silently staked. Even when he is not by your side, there’s almost always a green cloak in the vicinity, ready to help you with a disconcerting smile and dead eyes.

He second guesses your decisions, subtly, politely. He insists, on occasion, that you misremember smaller details that, well, perhaps you really did. He disarms you with his fond smile and blatant willingness to assist you with whatever you ask. He provides you with a roof over your head, with food and drink—and he is quite insistent on handling the drinks.

Leander doesn’t need you to get stronger. Leander prefers you pliant and differential, willing to depend on his strength and his connections. He wants to surround you with himself and all he has. You may second guess his decisions, but you always sleep easily at night.

friendly disclaimer: this was written before the game's release and as such may contain portrayals that are inaccurate. all you see above is purely a predictive interpretation that may be disproven with the game's full release.

[ecargmura]

A Terrified Teacher At Ghoul School Episode 6 Review - Craziest Sports Day

Hands down, the craziest sports day I’ve seen in an anime so far. Maybe it’s because these guys are youkai that makes it so crazy because they’re all using their abilities which wouldn’t be allowed in a normal setting. Also, this is the first two-parter for the show.

As someone who read the manga, there are a few changes this episode made. First off, the sports day had a chapter called Prep Time where the class was preparing for the event. This is the part that had Maizuka rolling on a stone with Haruaki, Sano and Kurahashi chasing after him. This is also the episode where Kurahashi was formally introduced. However, I do get why it was cut out as the Sports Day is the main highlight and that the prep time chapter ends with four characters getting stuck in the mountains and how they got back was never explained. It would be weird to just transition from there to the Sports Festival without explanation.

Another change is Kurahashi predicting Haruaki would be wearing a red fundoshi as punishment. In the manga, he predicts Haruaki would be wearing a blazer uniform, which he hates. However, the anime made it so that Haruaki likes all sorts of female uniforms when he’s just a sailor uniform fanatic in the manga. The principal just suggested the red underwear just for shit and giggles. Speaking of Kurahashi, his hair is colored as orange in the anime but he’s blond in the manga.

The last of the major changes in the anime is Hatanaka yelling at the principal about potentially cutting his salary. He yelled that he has three kids. In the manga, he actually yells that he has a fourth on the way, but that was revealed in some chapters before the event. It is still canon that he has three kids. If you’re an anime-only, I hope you anticipate Hatanaka and his family because they’re absolutely hilarious but also adorable.

Anyways, other than that, the rest of the episode is about the Sports Festival and it’s the same as the manga! However, without worrying too much about manga and anime comparisons, I can safely say that the anime amps up the manga content due to motion and voice acting.

My favorite parts were buff Maizuka and Hijita’s misfortunes. I feel like Hijita gets the short end of the stick at times when it comes to the gags. The author loves making him as miserable as Haruaki at times. During the scavenger hunt, he got a prompt saying “A classmate you secretly hate”. I like the detail that Hijita likes all of his classmates and that he couldn’t bear to be hated by any of them. However, he took the crumpled paper Maizuka had and also took Sano, thinking it was Maizuka’s best friend paper. Little did he know, he was able to get out of being hated by his classmates…by accidentally revealing he has a ‘secret crush’ on Sano to which he rejects. Haha! At least you won, Hijita…but at what cost? Also, shoutout to Taito Ban because he makes Hijita even more hilarious!

The horse racing part was hilarious too because that’s when everyone uses their abilities to go wild. Apparently, Haruaki was the one who came up with the strategies, so even if he can be a dunce and a wimp, Haruaki is smarter than you expect.

There were some youkai students that were prominently featured in this episode. The first is the bespectacled Kurahashi, who is a Kudan youkai who can predict upcoming misfortunes upon someone. However, when he does make his predictions, he makes a hilarious face and horns also sprout out. Next is merman Maeda. I like that instead of a female, the merfolk in this story is male. From other classes, we have Kashima who is not a deer youkai but an oni. He’s more prominently featured in the spinoff prequel manga that takes place a year before the story. Long story short, he’s a childhood friend of Hijita and Zashiki’s.

I think having Marshmallow being a commentator was genius. He is adorable as heck, so the commentary becomes cute. Even Mouse-sensei notices an innate talent in commentary. I can’t wait to see how this arc will conclude next week. Who do you think will win or lose?

[klausinamarink]

klausi!! 🤍 i wanna bombard you with all these prompts but!!

91 "Don’t go on that date.” “Why?” “You know why.” “Say it." and/or 12 "I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

or

64 "Can I hold your hand?” and/or 79 "i like being close to you. you’re warm."

am i being too demanding :/ feel free to ignore this mwah! 🫶

dio!!! omg so great to hear from you! And don’t you worry you’re not demanding! these prompts are fantastic and I hope I did them justice for you 🫡 hope you can excuse the slight length and lateness

—

Steve loves Eddie.

It’s a fact as obvious as the monsters underneath everyone’s feet that haunted his sleeping state for years. It’s the truth that he has since accepted as part of something under his heart and bones, but is well too aware that if released, it can be ugly for everyone else.

Even with Robin, Steve just knows that if he even mumbles a fucking vowel, her first reaction would be, “Eddie would not like you.”

Okay, that’s just disrespectful to his platonic soulmate. Her first reaction would definitely be happy gasping, begging for details, using his love advice against him and strike multiple tally marks on the YOU RULE whiteboard.

But everyone else? Yeah, Steve can already see the disgust and contempt on their faces.

It would hurt more if Eddie’s one of them.

But fuck it. Steve’s always been the ‘rip the bandaid off’ kind of guy, especially when it comes to crushes. That’s why he’s going to tell Eddie first, future heartbreak and emotional breakdown be damned.

So here he is: driving down the road to the countryside that’s more farmland than actual farmhouses to the new Munson home.

And just as if the gods are giving him pity, Eddie’s already in the long driveway, leading Lucky out of the horse trailer.

It had surprised everyone that Eddie’s new job post-Vecna was a farmhand for a nearby horse ranch. But there’s not really a lot of other positions in Hawkins that would accept a falsely accused man who now hates the town even more for the witch hunt. The ranch on the other hand hadn’t cared much about Eddie’s history and had been quick to hire him for training shortly after the move.

Steve parks on the roadside just front of the house. Eddie seems too attentive with Lucky to notice his car yet, a gloved hand always petting the horse’s snout as he gently pulls the reins to the direction of the massive yard. Eddie has a gentle smile on his face, the one where the dimples show and gives him a little glow to the face.

It makes Steve smile too.

Eddie just looks so much happier. 

He takes a deep breath and gets out of the car, the chilly November air and horse stink welcoming him. That snaps Eddie’s attention towards him, the smile breaking into a grin.

“Steve!” He cries out with a quick wave. Lucky gives a rather loud snort in greeting. 

“Hey, Eds.” Steve waves back before jerking a chin up to the golden-brown horse as he walks up. “Taking Lucky to a timeout again?”

Eddie snorts, shaking his head, “I swear this horse either likes me more or he’s being a bastard on purpose for his owners.”

Apparently, out of all of the horses in the ranch, Lucky is the more “devil’s child” (which Eddie had described with a voice of an old Texas man). Steve hasn’t witnessed the actions himself, but the stories range from nipping other horses to clomping the front of a vehicle into smithereens for no reason except for an undisclosed hatred to the human race.

So predictably, Eddie is one of the very few humans who have the privilege to be Lucky’s close friends. 

(“Honestly, I think this horse is an agent from the Upside Down. Steve, listen to me. I’ve faced a hoard of demobats but that horse scares me.” Eddie tells him one afternoon, just a week after being the new ranch hire. Steve listens to it all, but his eyes are on the ever wild gestures and lit cigarette dangerously close to burning his hair.

“If you’re afraid of it, then hasn’t it like,” Steve makes his best impression of a horse stomping someone to death.

Eddie snorts, taking a drag of his cigarette. “I guess I’m a braver motherfucker than I thought or Lucky just likes me better than the normal folk.”

I like you better too. Way more than the whole town. It’s not Steve’s first thought and it’s far from the last one he wishes to say alo.)

As Eddie leads Lucky alongside the fence of the pasture, Steve follows from behind, keeping a very safe distance from Lucky and his back legs of severe injury. Then Eddie opens the gate, letting Lucky run into the pasture. 

Steve puts his arms on the fence, watching the horse gallop around and kicking up dirt clouds. He looks over at Eddie, who’s mirroring him but his gaze is on Steve. He smiles again, making Steve’s heart do a double flip.

“What is it?” Steve asks.

Eddie doesn’t answer. He only shuffles closer until their sides are pressing to each other. Then he tucks his chin onto Steve’s shoulder, his nose brushing the cheek. “I like being close to you. You’re warm.” Eddie finally says in a hushed voice like he’s sharing a secret.

Steve almost says it.

He almost tells Eddie, “I love you.”

But the words don’t come out. They feel blocked in his mouth. Like there’s one last gate to go through and Steve can’t find the key for it. It feels like he’s back in high school, fresh faced and still navigating the brutal castle that would chew him up and spit him out.

It feels frustrating that when the perfect opportunity for the confession is literally leaning against him, he can’t say it.

He’s scared now. That he’ll spit it out like an afterthought or say something like “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified” and have Eddie push him under Lucky’s hooves of death. 

Eddie’s still looking at him. His eyes are hooded but cautious. He looks vulnerable. With the rays of sunlight still shining behind him, he looks beautiful.

Steve glances down at their hands. They hang limp over the fence, their pinkies barely touching. He swallows and says in a similar hushed voice, “Can I hold your hand?”

Eddie’s expression warms, his smile turning more tender. He takes off his gloves and slowly wraps his hand around Steve’s. His palm feels too smooth and sweaty with his pulse going wild. 

It’s honestly perfect.

“This okay?” Eddie whispers.

Steve resists the urge to pinch between his eyebrows, hoping to blink away the sudden tears. “Yeah.”

Later, he would finally tell Eddie the three blessed words.

[panelshowsource]

i know people get a lil over-the-top with their line-up predictions

(i feel like i have so much to say about this but don't wanna get into it bc it's not nice to make fun of people for simply being excited about stuff?? but how are you gonna hear there's an "american comedy actor" on the upcoming series and sincerely suggest it's possibly let alone likely a-list hollywood star paul rudd... i love the enthusiasm but some of y'all gotta come back down to earth that's all i'm saying 😩)

but is it too much to ask for graham to just be on new year treat? 🥺 PLEASE? 🥺

omg so cute 💕 there are some people i just KNOW you guys are gonna go crazy for or fall in love with once you see them on something, she was like textbook tumblr crush hahaha

in case you didn't know she's one of the only co-writers of guy mont spelling bee so check that series out if you love her humour!! she is also on s01e01 of the nz ver :)

btw you didn't fall in love w her as hard as robbie did hehehe he is fan goals 🤭

sorry i am late to this ask — did you mean the last one laughing uk version? YES so excited especially because he's co-hosting with roisin and i love how funny he finds her! people have their predictions and i am gonna put it out there for a second time that i think joe lycett and judi love are underrated horses in this race. i know judi loves a laugh BUT she can hold her character with the best of them...👀

we need more new shows!!! i miss everyone ;;

THE REST IS ENTERTAINMENT OF COURSE!!!

wow i'd never heard of this channel (sorry i really don't know youtubers — but i'd like to! i keep saying i want to get into the history and zoology sectors of youtube essays (pls send if you have any you love lol)) but i'm glad to see the pod being used as a legitimate point of research!

bc casual listeners may not realise that when marina & richard address topics and answer audience questions, they're going to specialists in the industry — actors, writers, producers, showrunners, journalists, investors — and getting their input before coming on the pod for discussions. that's a major part of what gives the podcast the depth and authority we find so fascinating!

but was he wrong!! lmao he's so quick

ooo thanks i appreciate it! i listened to the sue perkins and nish kumar episodes and they were really fun — especially because i love goss and little personal life easter eggs. if you have a fave episode lmk!!

i can't say the format of the show blows my mind, but i do think with the right guests it can be fun — and elis is def one of my faves (he's such an underrated yapper)!! i loved alex, ivo, rose, sam as well. i do worry the show won't be worth a full episode listen with the wrong guest or chemistry, but for now i'm staying tuned in! i'll try to post some clips from it too

—

PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS / NON-PANEL SHOW WATCH LINKS FAQ / TAGS / ASK

[thewhimsyturtle]

It’s Preakness Day!  🏇 And a very muddy one at that! 🙊

I absolutely hate rain, so I am staying right here on Mom's lap bundled up warm and dry in my fluffy towel! Mom and I predict Baffert horse Imagination will go straight for the lead, but can he fend off Derby winner Mystik Dan? We think that's a bit of a toss up, depending on how much Mystik Dan has recovered from two weeks ago! Mom and I will be rooting for Seize the Grey as the only grey racing today (and the best name in the field!), but we will also be watching Uncle Heavy, who has won twice on wet tracks before!

[internationalhorseracingnews]

HorseNews-Kauto Star Novices' Chase Gr. I He is French and magnificent

[mossy-rainfrog]

Build A Cowboy Round 5!

Hi good evening sorry for vanishing OK SO i mentioned in the tags of my first poll that this cowboy is not just going to be a vaguely historical cowboy, but from a Very specific time frame, because of the fic that his partner Javi exists in. That being said, there is a lot to unpack here with this! The time period exactly is 1841, the setting is Texas (because I am texan and we are predictable) and oh my god this is one of the most insane times for a character to be from texas 😭

Our cowboy will have in fact lived through the Mexican War of Independence (1810-1821), the Texas Revolution (1835-1836), tx's CRINGEFAIL attempt at self governing, rapidly approaching our annexation into the US in 1844-5, and then coming right up on the fuckign CIVIL WAR in 1861. These guys deeply understand the concept of "get me the fuck out of the interesting times, im sick of the interesting times". im so sorry cowboys, you can blame Herman Melville for this.

anyways yall didnt come here for a history lesson but you are in fact going to get one because i am insufferable first and an artist second :) and also as a note, race and backstory are always intertwined things but Especially when it is fuckign 1841 so. yeah exercise caution, there will be discussion of racism, medical close-calls, and anti-indigenous genocide. PLEASE ACTUALLY READ THE BACKGROUNDS BEFORE CHOOSING ONE! you dont have to read the sources. those are just there because i have autism. 👍

DETAILS BELOW THE READMORE BC I GOT WAYYY TOO WORDY⬇️

BACKSTORY A: Black Cowboy fled Texas* to Oklahoma with his family after the revolution, now travels up the trade routes breaking wild horses, passing along abolitionist messages, and assisting refugees. A miracle baby surviving a cleft lip with limited surgery and sustained permanent hearing damage as a result, he took up the trade of horsebreaking with flying colors, keeping right up with his older brothers. A sharp shot, keen eye, and a talented horseman, his best trained horses help him identify sounds that he otherwise can't hear. Loosely familiar with PSL, but primarily used a mix of lip-reading, localized/community generated sign growing up.

* After the US aided Texas in staging a coup against Mexico and declaring independence, an ordinance passed in 1836 that fully banished free Black people from the region unless they had personal pardon from Congress. This ordinance was not passed without pushback, and it changed shape and restriction over the years as people of color such as Joseph Tate, John and Charity Bird, Diana Leonard, Allen Dimery, and more all fought for their right to their own lands and lives. The law eventually settled into what was known as the Ashworth Act in 1840, which allowed free Black people to stay IF they had been residing in the state before 1836. It certainly wasn't the victory many had hoped, and even though many free Black persons in Texas were granted pardon to stay, like the Ashworths who the act was named after, many others were forced to leave after their allotted time was up, and were threatened with the future of slavery should they return. thank you texas history for being a vile piece of shit 👍

BACKSTORY B: Mexican/Tejano Vaquero from West Texas whose family has been ranching and cattle driving for decades. Has no interest in moving post-revolution, fuck you very much. If the borders are going to cross his family without asking*, then there's no need to cross them back. Technically lives with his family, but spends extensive periods of time away from home on cattle drives. Steady-handed, steadfast, quick to keep his herd safe. Miraculously survived a cleft lip as a baby and sustained permanent hearing damage** as a result, but that didn't stop his father from teaching him everything he knew, nor our man from taking to it like a fish to water. Knows more about cattle driving than you will ever forget.

*Some brief notes on the borders shifting and alienating people in their own rightful land.

**There was no official sign language of Mexico until the first Deaf school was established in 1869, but he and his family likely have a community-based one that works for them.

BACKSTORY C: Coahuiltecan (specifically Payaya)* cowboy, farrier, and leatherworker. Picked up the line of work as family was pushed to assimilate, one of the few still claiming Coahuiltecan identity at this time**, and has made a good living for himself and his sisters with it. Like the others, miraculously survived a cleft lip as a child but sustained permanent hearing damage as a result. Knows Plains Indian Sign fluently, and also relies on the direction of his horse for picking up sudden sounds before he can spot them. Tries to keep his work as local as possible to avoid separation from family for long, and whenever that is necessary, makes sure to come back soon.

*Note: Coahuiltecan is a term referring to several northern-Mexican and southern-Texan autonomous groups with distinct cultural differences. However, since Spanish and French colonizers lumped these groups together, an immense amount of distinguishing knowledge has since been lost.

** Also note: the Tāp Pīlam Coahuiltecan Nation is still very much around today (check out their site!) but nearing the mid 19th century, people at least claiming/listing this heritage on legal documents dwindled immensely for a variety of reasons.

[starry-blue-echoes]

AU idea: Johnny can understand horses as if they spoke English. He has always had this ability. Slow Dancer's dialogue is 40% swear words.

DHFBVHDFBVDBVNDBNX

OKAY BUT WHAT IF

WHAT IF SINCE JOHNNY'S PART HORSE IN THE BEASTSTARS AU-

oh god the mental image

Johnny is the only Joestar to have this ability but he's always had it so it never weirded him out. Besides, horses were easier to talk to then people and they had the best gossip

Johnny becomes famous in the racing world for how good he is with horses. They say he understands them on a level no other human could ever achieve, that horses treat him like one of their own. He always knows exactly what ails them and how to make them better, and it baffles everyone

Horses are really the only "people" Johnny trusts after Nicholas's death. They're the only ones he fully believes have his best interests at heart and won't betray him if given the opportunity. Horses are simpler than people, easy to understand and even easier to predict. He spent more time around horses than with other kids his own age, and he was fine with that

And before Gyro, other horses were also the only ones he trusted to be around him during his forced nights after the accident. He always felt incredibly vulnerable on those nights which he could never remember. The anxiousness, the disgust, the fear, that oppressive knowledge that if there were to be any danger he wouldn't be able to run away, it was suffocating.

But being in the stables with the others always made it a bit easier to bear, and when he meets Gyro he finally learns to trust people again

[nevermindirah]

fun new way for immortals to do drugs

A while back Nile and Booker stumbled upon a fun new way to do drugs. Turns out there's a poisonous mushroom that doesn't kill immortals, it just temporarily turns them into a werewolf. Booker's a really cute werewolf! He loves playing fetch and getting belly rubs! More about Booker's first werewolf trip in Wouf Wouf: An Unredacted Fairy Tale.

Their second time around, Nile takes a dose, and they discover it's a more general immortals become were-beasts thing: Nile is now a were-squirrel. She's so cute and sleek and bushy-tailed! She's extremely agile. She's no more a flying squirrel than she is a flying human but it's not like that's gonna stop her, and she has the best time discovering she can leap between treetops!

Squirrel Nile sits on human Booker's shoulder or curls up on his chest and he feeds her almonds and gives her pets and watches her sleep. When they're were-beasts together, Nile loves holding onto wolfy Booker's ruff while he runs as fast as he can. It becomes a thing they do every so often, go off for a camping weekend, do drugs, run around a wilderness as their were-beast selves. Their special thing.

Eventually they decide to invite Andy and Quynh to join them. Andy is, predictably, a were-horse. She's enormous and so elegant and faster than wolfy Booker thank you very much. Were-horse Andy teaches human Nile how to ride her, and she whinnies mercilessly at wolfy Booker when he tries and fails to climb onto her back.

Quynh's were-beast form? Frog. If she wants to venture back under water, now she can breathe there. Wolfy Booker loves to swim as well, and the two of them spend hours at a time splashing around in ponds and lakes and rivers. Froggy Quynh can also leap and climb up into the treetops right alongside Nile, which quickly gets competitive. Nile can leap higher, Quynh can leap farther.

Quynh finds she especially loves clinging to Andy's mane as she runs at top speed. She and Nile take to leap-frogging each other hopping between Andy and Booker's backs as their lorge sweeties race each other through whatever wilderness, and then they all sack out by the nearest body of water for naps and snacks and cuddles. Nile is barely visible as she sinks into Booker's shaggy fur just as Quynh is neon-vivid where she rests perched between Andy's ears.

Booker, the only predator among them as animals just as he's the only one of them as humans who didn't choose a warrior's life, keeps other predators away with his ferocious growling. If it really came down to it though, Nile and Quynh could fight off most beasts with creative use of projectiles. Andy, of course, can and will stomp an asshole to death with her hooves.

[sunnys-library]

Secretariat

Rating: 10/10

Synopsis:

Housewife and mother Penny Chenery agrees to take over her ailing father's Virginia-based Meadow Stables, despite her lack of horse-racing knowledge. Against all odds, Chenery -- with the help of veteran trainer Lucien Laurin -- manages to navigate the male-dominated business, ultimately fostering the first Triple Crown winner in twenty-five years.

source

Review:

I saw this movie when it came out in theaters (2010) and I remember being in complete awe. My mom and I were running late so we didn't have time to get popcorn or anything. We snuck in right during the opening credits and took the first seats we could find, which were only a couple of rows back from the movie screen. We basically had to look up the entire time which wasn't our ideal situation but in regard to this movie, I thought it was perfect and the best way to experience Secretariat.

I re-watched the movie today with my mom in honor of the Preakness Stakes and it was just as good as I remember, maybe even better in some ways. As I've gotten older, I've grown to appreciate the art of movies more. I've also taken a couple college/graduate courses in movies to fulfill elective credits which has expanded my knowledge and increased my interest in them.

This movie wasn't a huge award winner and it had mixed reviews from critics. Some claimed it was predictable, which makes sense considering it's based on a true story (do people not know that?). Some claimed it was cheesy and similar to Hallmark movies. Some thought it was full of cliches and lacked character development and a decent written plot. To each their own.

There also were comments about how the film wasn't entirely realistic, which is true. Some things were altered. Most films based on true stories are, though, as it makes for better plots or viewings.

There was a lot of ground covered in 2 hours, the plot spanning over about 6 years or so. There were times when I didn't know what year it was but I felt the script did as good a job as it could have to provide those details. I'm not sure how they could have made it more in-depth without dragging it out, to be honest. Anything past 2 hours seems to be extremely hit or miss. So given the circumstances I wasn't put off by how they went about this.

I felt the characters had enough depth to add to the storyline. Of course part of me wished they went into more detail, such as with Penny's kids or with Eddie/Hollies/Miss Ham etc. but again, I'm not sure how feasible that would have been with the 2-hour time stamp.

I thought the cinematography and camera direction were very well done (I'm not a professional though so this is just a personal opinion). I felt the lighting and camera angles contributed to a sense of power and intensity consistent throughout the film. It also added warmth, joy, and comfort.

I thought the music selection and scores were also well done. Nick Glennie-Smith provides a selection of original scores for the film I thought added to the intensity of it and conveyed certain emotions words couldn't. I wish the scores were available via Spotify but I can only find them on YouTube. And of course the selection of songs chosen for this film were well done. The scene of Big Red, or Secretariat, rounding the corner at the Belmont Stakes is one of my all-time favorite scenes in cinematic history. The low camera angle, the lighting, the sounds of the horse followed by the chorus of "Oh Happy Day" all contributed to this euphoria feeling that's hard to replicate just by thought. Anything that can provoke that kind of emotion, in my opinion, is worthy of some kind of recognition.

Overall, I thought the film was an exciting watch. It's one of my favorites and one of my comfort movies. I thought it did a decent job of sticking close to the actual story (with the real Penny making an appearance) and it was able to portray a certain intensity and excitement that can be hard to achieve properly. It's worth a watch in my opinion :)

[charlenasaxen]

Favorite Quotes - Total Competition by Ross Brawn

“come up against the powerful new Ferrari organization which includes Michael Schumacher and a new technical team led by Brawn”

“theoretically that, at that speed, they could drive along upside down and stick to the ceiling”

“an F1 driver who lifts his foot off the throttle will decelerate as quickly as a Porsche 911 driver doing an emergency brake”

“If anyone can claim to have created and mastered ‘Total Formula One’, it is Ross Brawn”

“Imagine if you are the fifth fastest runner in the world and someone comes up with the idea of cloning Usain Bolt a few times”

“the first race win for Williams since 2004 and coinciding with Frank Williams’ 70th birthday.”

“then at Benetton in the mid-1990s, Ferrari through the early 2000s and finally with his own team, Brawn GP, in 2009. So, Ross has won 24 Drivers’ and Constructors’ titles”

“sure enough, the team he put together has been untouchable since”

“With the notable exception of Adrian Newey, other technical directors and Team Principals have not been able to keep up as well”

“I thought I would do a year in motor racing and see how it goes.”

“and I said, ‘Well, it’s more professional than putting the ratios in wrong.”

“It was a great year, Monaco, Austria, Monza, plus the British championship. It was pretty busy”

“we got married in that year. She came to some of the races. Great fun.”

“I went back, saw Jean and calmed down and then ended up staying for seven years.”

“A Not bad. Has anyone done better?

R I don’t know. I never added them up.”

“rode a horse and cart through the rules and came up with a car that was three or four seconds quicker”

“In ’91 we’d been very aware of this hot little German driver who we were battling with”

“he was the only one who ever gave us any trouble. So Tom and I knew Michael Schumacher very well.”

“because Michael was our boy.”

“We had this complete commitment to Michael winning the championship. We considered him to be our best opportunity and that proved to be the case.”

“Luca, Ross’s poodle, who is of course named after Luca di Montezemolo”

“Michael was extremely well rewarded because he was the best at what he did, but I’m convinced he would have done it for a fraction of what he was being paid”

“I remember when Jos Verstappen, Max’s dad, was the hot number in Formula One”

“We told Flavio that we were not going to accept his deal. So Flavio backed off and we went into battle”

“Michael had a blind spot, he was so competitive he didn’t see things the way you or I would”

“And I said, ‘Calm down Michael and have a look at the TV.’ And he calmed down and had a look”

“If you were racing Michael Schumacher, you knew you’ve got no quarter. If he saw a gap, if you left an inch, he would take a foot”

“And he said, ‘No, it wasn’t too close because he got through.”

“’95 was the year Michael announced he was leaving. That was a pretty bitter blow to me. I had been very close to Michael”

“I didn’t speak to Tom for quite a long time after that. It wasn’t until he was very ill, before he died”

“they had had some quality issues so they had taken the head of quality control from Fiat and put him in”

“We really established what could be done with a Formula One car. We had, I think, 53 consecutive podiums.”

“Years ago, if Ferrari won, I would be out on the town, celebrating with my friends. Now you’ve made it normal.”

“For five years we won every race and it was predictable”

“Michael charged up the field, because he was so much faster than anyone else…he set off from the pits, and unlapped himself from everyone, and he finished fourth”

“they included the 2007 car, because they said very graciously that it was mine.”

“our mindset was not to have much sympathy when the perpetrators of the one-race tyre had a problem”

“There are three religions in Italy, of which football and Ferrari are two”

“When I went back in 2014, Luca put on a royal tour for all my friends. There were tears flowing and fabulous memories.”

“And I said, ‘Richard, our relationship has just taken a step back.’ ‘Who’s that?’ he said. ‘It’s Ross, I’m here.”

“they are the ones for whom the battle was so easy that no one even remembers them”

“I would ring Michael up and say, ‘Can you be here tomorrow?’ ‘Yep. What time?’ Never any hesitation”

“And Michael was in the lead and he was setting the fastest times, lap after lap”

“it was like the two of you were in a couple of armchairs in front of the fire just chatting. Meanwhile, he is driving at a level that most people couldn’t imagine. Purple, purple, purple.”

“It didn’t really physically strain him. We would be having a conversation the same way that we are now”

“they would be very breathless, trying to get the words out in between pants of breath. He never did that. He also never seemed to sweat that much”

“you would go on the podium and there would be two drivers there almost unable to stand up and Michael would be jumping around”

“God, what on earth is this creature we’re competing with?”

“two fingers up to the other drivers. ‘Not only am I testing, I am going in the gym at night and working out.”

“I would be lucky if Ralf and Juan Pablo spend together as much time in a gym in a week as Michael does in a day.’”

“very few of them actually push it to the level that Schumacher did”

“eventually all the holes line up somewhere and the arrow shoots through them”

“the intention of the regulation and the application of the regulation may be different things”

“I would think, ‘Great, how are we going to take advantage of this?”

“The perception from the outside is that with Jean, Rory, Michael, you had a bulletproof team”

“It is not your name on the tin because you aren’t there – which is very galling”

“I met them together to have it out with them. And they both pointed to each other . . .”

“Now they are suing each other.”

“Yes. At least we didn’t get to that!”

“if you want to be ultimately successful you have to build trusting relationships”

“however everyone felt, people would have known that you were the architect”

“Going for a meal with Niki and Toto was good fun. Then knowing that you couldn’t trust them, you couldn’t lean on them, was a problem.”

“But one is the alliances that you described. I had a reputation for being close to the FIA”

“Was it intelligence or instinct? I was stunned that anyone has the capacity to decide that they are going to park their car during qualifying in Monaco”

“we were pretty straight up with him: ‘Bernie, we don’t want to work for you.’”

“Dead simple to get round it. Instead, Dieter got Niki Lauda involved because Bernie suggested Niki.”

“But neither Niki nor Bodo had much of an idea what to do. So they would keep leaving the meeting and ringing me.”

“Bernie never imagined in a million years that Mercedes would earn it – but they achieved it”

“He will go and meet his maker one day, but no one has managed to depose him. There is no higher authority.”

“I couldn’t feel comfortable not to at least raise it. When it was raised everyone said, ‘Up yours.’ I thought, ‘Thank God for that.”

“you have a track record of getting out there and quietly doing it.”

“if we’d all said, ‘Right, you can have half an hour in my garage’, it would be a lot more efficient”

“Toyota had the double diffuser. Would they have won that case if they were fighting it by themselves?”

“You want a highly paid technical guy working on the car, not trying to figure out how to get his furniture from Italy”

“just that process of sitting down with everyone on a regular basis helped to drive things along.”

“one of the greatest gifts I could give someone was to ask them to represent the team on the podium”

“The only one I ever wanted to definitely do for myself in latter years was Monaco in my last year”

“I knew I was leaving by then. It was a special race with Nico. I’d been there when his dad had won it with Williams”

“To enjoy success with people. To enjoy it as a team meant much more to me than individual success”

“Michael Schumacher was very much the same. He wanted to enjoy that victory as a group.”

“even extended to him organizing football matches on a Thursday night, a five-a-side game with all the team”

“you all know Matt, we’ve all relied on him for years. He’s made one mistake. Support him while he gets over it”

“Pat wouldn’t have done that just for the sake of winning a race. It’s not worth it. So there must have been other circumstances”

“after Michael and I won our first race together”

“He was very good with the drivers. He was very close to Michael.”

“Tom and I had a serious fallout, but we made up in the end. Jean Todt would never have spoken to Tom for the rest of his life.”

“I wouldn’t use a calculator, I would just ask Jean what XYZ × B was, and he would give me an answer”

“Jean was very successful at Ferrari, because he was determined to get the best people. He got Michael for a start.”

“He would come to me and say, ‘You know, Michael’s a little bit upset about this”

“And I would think at first, ‘Why didn’t Michael tell me?’ But then you realize that sometimes people find it difficult”

“the various elements, all the subterfuge in the teams – it’s just a great cocktail.”

“The men choose their machines. They have put themselves in a position to win”

“Put it into Formula One and five months later they have got an answer.”

“or (on one occasion) a helicopter flight from Nice airport to Monte Carlo. Ross just made the effort to be friendly and good company.”

“Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look upon them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death”

“not to pursue quantity at the expense of quality. Scale creates additional challenges.”

“Intelligence is the ability to shape the world around us and strategy is how we go about it”

“Total competition requires a complete, integrated and inclusive process”

“Michael Schumacher is a very special person to me on a professional and human level. We pray for his recovery.”