#that's the first thing I thought seeing that sign

[ozzgin]

In the post mentioning flashing horny mantis there was meet and greet. I have a question how other monsters would behave in meet and greet (assuming that they will show up)

(Sorry for my English ;^;)

Also I love your work

POV: Your monster followers meeting you

content: gender neutral reader, mentions of stalking

LizardKing5 vehemently denies his attendance in the chatroom. "What, you think you're some celebrity?" he types, claiming he has better things to do than follow around some pathetic human.

Coincidentally, he's the first monster to greet you, standing tall at the very front of the queue.

"Whatever," he'll mumble, pulling out his merch and shaking your hand with feigned indifference. "I just happened to be in the area."

"What were you even doing before this," you ask, raising your eyebrows at the enormous backpack looming behind him.

Is that camping gear?

His clawed, scaly hand quickly ruffles your hair. Mind your damn business.

SharkMan is rather polite and reserved in his mannerisms. Don't misunderstand, he truly is excited to see you again, but he'd rather not add more to your plate. Besides, if we count the milestone event, he's already gotten way more than a handshake from you.

"Are you staying hydrated?" he asks, placing a bag of goodies on your table. "Here's something to eat during your break."

You smile and thank him for the thoughtful gesture. Hard to believe the same monster left you nearly crippled after a night together. You're sitting on the same cushion you needed for weeks after the affair.

DefNotAStalker will show up just to mess with you. He's watched you prepare for the event, he carefully observed you getting dressed; hell, he even ironed your outfit the night before! You swear the shirt had wrinkles last time you checked.

He'll shake your hand with an innocent grin and ask for an autograph. He's picked the perfect photo for it: to the unaware, it looks like a blurry print screen taken during one of your livestreams. In reality, he cheekily snapped it while hanging right above you, off-screen. You sign it with a chuckle.

"Thank you for coming, it was such a tiring week for me," you say, lowering yourself back in your seat.

"I can imagine. I hope the apartment complex will fix it soon."

You nod, distracted, and the monstrous creature slithers away.

Wait, did you ever even mention this to your followers?

Y/NSimp is elated to meet you. He's been carefully planning this for months, constantly daydreaming about the fateful encounter. His bag is filled to the brim with the required equipment: a fat stack of love letters, a marriage certificate, Photoshopped photos of the two of you together, an engagement ring, and a list of potential names for your future children.

He can already see it: he'll hand you the bag and the flowers, and you'll gasp, surprised by his romantic gesture. You never thought someone would care this much. Without hesitation, you jump into his arms, and promptly cancel the rest of the event. You'll be too busy with your husband-to-be.

Unfortunately, he has omitted one vital detail in his elaborate schemes: the correct address of the meet and greet. By the time he reaches the actual location, the doors are closed and the venue empty.

[Monster Streaming Series] | [Meet and Greet Part 1]

[bookshopsbizarreblog]

I don't normally care to get involved in Tumblr discourse, but ik you prev so I'll share my thoughts <3. The first set is more in relation to your comment than the root post, but it's your comment that got me thinking.

While your argument makes some sense on paper, and the fundamental core of it is trying to affirm folks trans identities (always a good thing), it still rings a bit.... not necessarily gender essentialist, since that has connotations™, but rigid in terms of what gender means. There is no universal set of features, internal, external, experiential, or socially mandated, that encompass what it means to be any given gender. I'm sure this is something we agree on, barring possible quibbles about how self identification functions. If someone says they're a certain gender (or not, for that matter), you believe them. How they identify is in their hands.

But identifying one way now doesn't necessarily mean that all of their past experiences align with them as their present gender going through that. For some people, I'm sure it does. There is a whole lot of utility in recontextualizing one's past in that way, in, as you put it, declaring that they "[were] not experiencing it as women, they[ were] experiencing it as men who are being treated as women." Or whatever other gender is relevant for the given situation. But it's not necessarily universally true. Case in point, genderfluid people. Someone feeling nonbinary one day and like a man the next doesn't mean that their experiences within the self-identification of nonbinary are all retroactively male experiences. Again, I'm sure that's preaching to the choir here.

For binary trans folks, I can't imagine not applying a similar principle. If someone believed and was treated as though they were a specific gender growing up, and later discovered otherwise, how they choose to relate to and understand their past is their call. The root truth is that gender and identification is a complicated mess, and we are all constantly shifting in our relationships to society and ourselves. Even cis people can experience dysphoria and disconnect from their preferred gender. There's no one unified story for what it means to be any given person. We get to make those ourselves. It'd be completely valid for a trans man to look back at when he thought he was a girl, along with everything that came with it, and pick out the early signs that would lead to them deciding that being a girl didn't suit them without invalidating their previous experience with that gender. We don't have to understand ourselves as always having been one way or the other, even within a binary identification. We can, if it serves us. But it's an individual's decision.

Anywho, that's just my rambling thoughts on what you said. TL; DR - I agree overall with you but think there's room for individual nuance and different self-concepts.

Now to actually address the disconnect I see between you and OP lol

I don't feel like your two claims are contradictory, and the linking factor is empathy. Let's set aside everything else I said, just work with a spherical trans man in a frictionless vacuum someone who has always known they were a man in the wrong body, with all the frustrations and dysphoria that entails. As OP said, they will not have always passed, and will thus have first hand experience of how society treats women.

Now, does this make them a woman? Obviously not. Does this mean they experience it identically to how women do? Again, no (though I'd also argue against any one universal experience with sexism and harassment). But they can still get it. They can still understand how it feels to go through all that due to society's perceptions of women. And I think that's closer to the point OP is making. They're not arguing that being on the receiving end of misogyny makes trans men women.

They're just saying "we experience it too. We understand how painful it can be. Don't discount our pain, or our knowledge of it, just because we're men. You're ignoring a very real struggle many of us have gone through, and that also hurts."

At least that's my reading, prev. Feel free to disagree, and I'd love to hear your thoughts! I'm sure I've missed some things and have points people might quibble or clarify. Learning is a constant process and I'd appreciate feedback!

i think im going to lose my fucking mind actually.

this little make believe game that yall are playing where ur all pretending that we have always been passing as cis men is honestly just really sickening to read. as if trans men have never been sexually harassed or abused because society perceives us as women. im genuinely of the opinion that u all just do not believe trans men face misogyny and thats so unbelievably fucked up and just not based in reality. its actually disgusting and vile.

[inkedinshadows]

Bound by Secrets

Pairing: Azriel x Beron’s daughter!reader

Summary: When you get caught sneaking around the Hewn City, you end up in one of the dungeon cells to be interrogated by the infamous Spymaster. But things don't go exactly the way the General and the High Lord thought.

Warnings: mentions of sex, allusions to torture and scars

Word count: 6.4k

A/N: Okay sooo, I got a bit carried away with the first part and it came out longer than anticipated, with Az coming in at around word 1.7k. I know it’s a lot without him since it's his appreciation week, but the build-up is worth it (hopefully) and seeing how long the whole fic turned out to be, I hope you don't mind too much. There's still a lot of Azriel, I swear! (and I might have gone a little bit off-topic but shh it's fine). Anyway, happy @azrielappreciationweek everyone!

You knew being here was dangerous.

The Hewn City was not a place you could simply sneak into, and yet here you were, lurking in a corner of the throne room, waiting for the right moment to slip out and search for the treasury.

You had been sent there with a mission: find the Veritas Orb. How your father knew where it was, or what he needed it for, was not information you had been made privy to. But the High Lord of the Autumn Court had been clear: you were to steal the Orb as soon as possible. Knowing the kind of punishment he dealt when disappointed, you always did your best to comply. That left you with little time to prepare and, apparently, a huge number of problems.

Because just as you were about to make an unseen exit through the hallway you had previously selected, every single person in the crowd stiffened, and the chattering stopped abruptly, plunging the room into a silence so deep you could hear a pin drop.

As you turned to see what had happened, you realized everyone was staring at the entrance doors, just as they swung open. One look at the two tall figures slowly stalking in, and you knew you needed to get out before it was too late.

You blended into the shadows against the wall as the Spymaster and the General of the Army made their way to the dais on the other side of the hall. A smudge of red and gold was all you caught out of the corner of your eye when the Morrigan entered, just as you bolted down the hallway.

The High Lord and High Lady would be next. And if they caught you not only in their Court, but in their underground city as well, you'd be in serious trouble. You couldn't risk it. You needed to get out.

Yet you couldn't leave. Not without the Orb. Fear seized you for a split second at the mere thought of the pain you would suffer at your father's hands if you were to fail, and then you broke into a sprint—or as close to a sprint as you could manage with the high heels you had worn to blend in with the Hewn City inhabitants.

A thrum of power reached you despite the distance you had already put between yourself and the throne room, a clear sign of the High Lord and Lady’s arrival. You needed to hurry.

“Damn heels,” you muttered under your breath. You stopped long enough to take them off, gather them in your hands, and resume your run. At least your night-black dress was loose enough around the legs to allow you to move freely.

You had no idea where the treasury was. Your father didn't know, merely telling you the Orb was likely kept there—as if that helped. But you wouldn't consider where else it could be, instead choosing to focus on one thing at a time.

You wandered through the hallways, peering into every room you could find. Most of them were studies, sitting rooms, or smaller chambers for holding court. None of them what you were looking for.

Pushing a heavy wooden door open, you discovered a staircase that spiraled down. The basement. Or dungeons, you guessed, summoning a flame in your hand to light the steps as you began the descent. It made sense for the treasury to be on a lower level—harder to reach and easier to hide. That was where your father kept his most treasured possessions as well.

The stairs ended in a long hallway with many other tunnels branching off. You chose one out of instinct and kept going like that for a while, trying to remember every turn you took. The place was like a maze and there was nothing to, with nothing to distinguish the different paths. But eventually, your seemingly random choices paid off, and/because you found yourself in front of large, unguarded double doors. Upon closer inspection, you realized they were warded, hence the lack of actual guards.

With a smirk, you placed your palm on the knob and summoned more of your power. Your hand became a bright shade of orange, and a thin circle of fire spread from it, growing over the surface of the doors until it burned the spell protecting them. A little trick your oldest brother had taught you years ago.

Pulling your hand away, it returned to its normal color as you shoved the door open and walked inside.

Piles of gold lined the walls, jewels and weapons displayed in glass cabinets, and everywhere you turned, something shiny caught your eye. You delved deeper into the room, discovering beautiful pieces of artwork scattered around, but you couldn’t let them distract you from your task. You began searching the place instead, opening boxes and trunks, anything you could find, but there were no signs of the Veritas. The more you looked, the clearer it became.

The Orb wasn't there.

A frustrated sigh escaped you, and you stifled a groan as you made your way back to the tunnels, picking up the heels you had left by the door.

There had to be another room where more treasure was kept. You just had to find it. You were so sure it would be somewhere nearby that you made a stupid mistake: you didn’t count your turns, didn’t memorize when and where you had gone left or right or straight.

Maybe you should have asked for help before coming here. You had considered it, but you didn't want to endanger more people than necessary—or, even worse, have the truth discovered—and you honestly had thought you could do this alone.

You were wrong, and now you were lost. Like a damn fool.

Too caught up in your worries and rising anxiety, you did not hear the approaching steps. As you turned around the corner, you bumped into a tall, muscular body. A strong hand gripped your arm to keep you from losing balance, and the flame still flickering around your hand went out.

Now only the low gloom of the torches several feet down the tunnel illuminated the darkness.

“There you are.”

You didn’t recognize that deep, almost rough voice, but your heart jumped in your throat at sight of the leathery wings and the black scaled armor adorned with seven crimson Siphons.

You already knew who you were facing when you looked up and met the wary gaze of the General of the Night Court armies, his face half-hidden in the dark.

“There I am?” you repeated, putting on a sweet smile that didn’t reflect your internal turmoil. “Were you looking for me, General?”

His eyes narrowed as he took in your bare feet and the heels you still held in your hand. “What are you doing down here?”

You couldn’t tell if he meant down here in the Hewn City or in the tunnels below the palace. What if he knew the truth? What if he knew who you were? It could have given you a way out, it could have—

But Cassian’s grip on your arm tightened at your silence. “Answer me,” he growled. “We know someone broke into the treasury. And I know it was you.”

You shivered at his tone, at the fear that began to settle inside you, knowing you had been caught. As you tried to find a way out, you heard the words coming out of your mouth as if they were someone else’s: feigned shock at the news, deep confusion at the accusation, refined politeness when you addressed him. Hopefully, it was enough to let you off the hook.

“Why, if I may ask, would you think that was me, General?”

He didn’t seem impressed by your display of innocence. “There are very few redheads in the Hewn City, and none with fire powers. You’re from Autumn.”

Well, shit. You were so used to seeing red-haired Fae in the Autumn Court that you hadn't considered how recognizable your hair—or your powers, for that matter—could be outside of your home.

“I…”

You didn’t know what to say. You had red hair. You were suspiciously wandering in the tunnels. You had broken into the treasury using your fire. How could you find an excuse for all of that?

Your hesitation was confirmation enough for the General. His grip on your arm became almost painful. “Who are you? What were you looking for in the treasury?”

Maybe telling him the truth would help. If you revealed that you were in the Hewn City because you had no other choice, that you were not only Beron’s secret daughter but also his spy, his undercover agent, would he believe you? And if he did, would that make things better or worse for you?

Again, you thought about it for too long.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed even more. “You’re coming with me,” he ordered, nudging you along. “And you will talk, one way or another.”

You didn’t like where this was going. You didn’t like it one bit.

You could burn him, you supposed. Use your fire on him to create a distraction and run away. But you knew what kind of pain it caused, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt someone that way, not even him. And even if you did, where could you run? You didn’t know the place, didn't know where the hallways led or where the hiding spots were. But Cassian did. You wouldn’t get far before he found you.

You let the General lead you even deeper into the dungeons, following him without a struggle, even as the cold air bit at your skin and your gut churned in fear.

After a few minutes, you were escorted inside a small cell. There was nothing but a wooden chair in the middle of the space, right next to a grate on the floor from which hisses and growls rose up. You decided you didn’t want to know what was on the other side.

Cassian took your shoes, placing them next to the door as he gestured for you to sit. You obeyed silently and took a seat, waiting for the handcuffs, for the restraint, for the questions to start.

None of it came.

You just sat there, the General watching you intently from his spot against the wall, his stance relaxed yet alert in case you tried something. He said not a word.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before the door opened again and another male walked in. He was Illyrian too, a sword similar to Cassian’s was strapped to his back, and he wore the same armor. But his Siphons were a shade of cobalt blue, his black hair cut short, and he was surrounded by swirling shadows.

Your breath caught at the sight of the Spymaster.

Azriel’s eyes widened ever so slightly as they settled on you, his shadows frozen around his shoulders. He stood there, wings tucked tightly in, staring at you as if he could see right through your façade.

“Where is Rhys?”

The Spymaster didn’t tear his gaze away from you even as he answered. “He couldn’t leave.” His voice, cold as ice, sent a shiver down your spine. “This is the intruder?”

You held your head up high, reigning in your emotions. You wouldn’t let him intimidate you. You refused to. No matter the stories you had heard about the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court, you wouldn’t cower. Not before him. You had suffered enough at the hands of your father to know how to deal with fear and pain.

“I found her wandering in the tunnels,” Cassian answered. “Not far from the treasury, hand wreathed in flames. She refused to say anything.”

The Spymaster assessed you, hazel eyes scanning you from head to toe. “Well, that’s about to change.” His hand lingered dangerously close to the black-hilted knife strapped to his muscular thigh.

Your brother's words echoed in your mind. “Tell him what he wants to hear.” “If you fight him, you'll only make it worse.” “Think of something nice, hold on to it, and it'll be over soon enough.” “Behave like the pliant little female he expects you to be.”

If Eris's precious advice had always worked with your father and his particular inclination for painful punishments, then maybe it would work now as well.

Azriel's gaze didn't falter as he stalked toward you, the dagger now clutched in his scarred fingers. You could have sworn his hand trembled for just a split second as he unsheathed it, but you were already looking down at your bare feet, letting your shoulders slump forward and your stiff back relax into a more submissive position.

A pair of black boots stopped right in front of you. Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands holding the armrests so tightly that your knuckles went white. The scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled your nose as cold metal pressed just under your chin, urging you to lift your head.

You didn't fight it, meeting a pair of honeyed eyes that stared at you coolly. So close, you could see the tiny speck of green in them, even with his dilated pupils.

Cauldron, this male was beautiful. Painfully so. Bigger issues begged for your attention, but you couldn't help but admire him—the sharp features of his face, the perfect lines of his jaw, the plush lips, the way a few black curls hung over his forehead.

You didn't dare shift your position, but the urge to clench your thighs was almost overwhelming. The most inappropriate time ever.

Azriel seemed to somehow sense it, because his nostrils flared and the tip of the knife pressed a bit more under your chin, though still not enough to draw blood.

“What are you doing here?”

That voice, like silk and shadows and ice. Now you could understand why everyone feared the Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

“Why were you in the treasury?” he pressed, more demanding than before.

When you didn't answer his questions, he removed the dagger and took a step back. You glanced at the General, still standing by the door, but your focus quickly returned to the Spymaster, who had begun to circle around your chair.

Like a beast about to strike, toying with its prey before the killing blow.

“You know, this would be easier if you talked willingly.”

Shadows wrapped around both your ankles and wrists to prevent any possible movement. He was behind you now, his dagger trailing down your arm, sending all your senses on high alert.

“Or I'll have to resort to more… unpleasant methods.”

Your bindings tightened as if to prove his point and a small gasp escaped your lips. You had to say something, come up with some kind of excuse before it was too late.

“Tell him what he wants to hear.”

What did he want to hear? You couldn't very well give up the truth, could you? But maybe if you did, maybe if you tried…

Your eyes shot to the General. He was studying you with his arms crossed, nothing but distaste etched on his features.

Azriel, now on your left, noticed the direction of your gaze. He watched the other Illyrian for a few heartbeats before speaking in that low, quiet voice of his. “You know I work better when I'm alone.”

You stilled at the words. You, alone in a dungeon cell with the Spymaster? This changed everything—reshuffling all the cards, altering the odds of how this interrogation might end.

Cassian blinked, turning to face him. The two males stared at each other for what felt like ages, a silent conversation passing between them. Eventually, the General sighed.

“Fine,” he grumbled, fingers raking through his dark hair. “But alert Rhys immediately if something happens.”

The Shadowsinger seemed to hold back a scoff. “I know what I'm doing, Cassian,” he replied coolly. “I always get the information I want.”

You swallowed harshly, but Cassian gave a sharp nod and sauntered out of the cell.

As soon as the door closed behind him and his footsteps faded down the hallways, Azriel crouched in front of you, the dagger sheathed at his thigh once more. The shadows restraining you vanished.

“What the hell are you doing here, my love?”

~~~~~~

You and Azriel had met four years prior.

When you were born—the youngest and only female in a clutch of seven brothers—your father decided to keep you in the shadows. He never publicly acknowledged having a daughter, believing that no one would suspect a girl, thus raising you to serve as his undercover agent. Only your family knew of your existence, and if you hadn't gone mad over the years of confinement, it was only thanks to your sweet mother and Eris.

Beron had spent almost a century training you, molding you into his perfect little spy, and then sent you out into the world for just as long to do exactly what he had taught you.

You were attending a ball in the Day Court the first time you saw Azriel. You had already gathered the intel your father wanted about the honored guests from the Dawn Court, but you had no intention of going home earlier than scheduled. You still had until morning. And when the most beautiful male you had ever seen walked into the room as part of the Night Court delegation, you knew exactly how you wanted to spend your remaining time.

You watched him, taking in his muscular body, the massive wings, and the swirling shadows, until his eyes finally found yours through the crowd. You offered him a gentle yet unwavering smile, and your core clenched at the way he studied you as you approached him. Like he was already imagining pinning you beneath him.

It didn't take long for him to do just that. Within minutes, you found yourself in the room he was staying in, your dress discarded on the floor and his head between your thighs.

You had never felt so good as you did in those few hours.

It was almost dawn by the time you were both spent and sweaty, but you fought against exhaustion. You waited for Azriel to fall asleep, and then you slipped out of the room.

He woke up to an empty bed.

The next time you met him was a few months later. The High Lords and High Lady were all meeting in the Winter Court to discuss Prythian’s situation after the war with Hybern, but your father was paranoid. He ordered you to ensure the other courts weren’t plotting a coup against him.

You had just sneaked out of the suite reserved for the High Lord of the Summer Court and his entourage when shadows pooled at your feet, and your back was slammed against the wall. The air was snatched from your lungs at the impact, leaving you little time to take another breath before a dark dagger pressed against your throat.

Despite having spent just one night together, you immediately recognized your assailant by his scent alone.

“Didn't know you were into this kind of thing,” you drawled, looking up to meet Azriel's gaze. “Kinky. I like it.”

His eyes widened slightly as recognition dawned on him, the blade moving an inch away from your neck but no more. “It's you.”

You knew you should be bothered by the dagger, that this was a powerful male not to be trifled with, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when you could still remember how his lips tasted and how good he felt inside you.

“Strange way to meet again, uh?”

Azriel didn't return your smirk, nor did he step away. Instead, his voice was cold as death now that his surprise had faded. “Why are you sneaking into the suites?”

You had mastered the art of weaving lies so long ago that the answer flowed effortlessly from your lips. 

“Cresseida was wearing a beautiful necklace at lunch,” you replied with a shrug. “I wanted to see if she left it in her room.”

His eyes narrowed. “So, you're a petty thief?”

Better than the truth, you thought, though a small part of you longed to confide in him, to tell him everything. A deep, innate feeling of trust had somehow bloomed in your chest. You ignored it.

“I'm a simple girl.” You offered him your most charming smile. “I see a shining jewel, and I want it for myself.”

Azriel hummed, knife still at your throat. His eyes scanned your face and you felt like he could see everything you were trying to conceal, all the secrets you'd kept locked away for years.

“You went through the suites of every Court except Autumn,” he mused, the tip of the blade tracing your jaw. You went utterly still. “Why?”

You didn't know how to answer. You didn't even know how he knew that. You'd been caught red-handed, and you had a feeling that any new lie you concocted would be pointless. So you decided to trust your gut.

“Alright.” You took a deep breath—or as deep as you dared with a sharp dagger pressed against your neck. “I work for Beron. He thinks someone might stage a coup, so he sent me to gather information.”

His eyes, which had been roaming over your features and perhaps lingered a second too long on your lips—though that could just be your imagination—snapped up to meet yours. The blade pressed a fraction harder against your skin, a clear sign of his distrust.

“For Beron?” he repeated. Not a hint of surprise or disdain marked his tone, just that icy coldness, so different from the warm voice he'd used to talk you through it in the Summer Court. “And he fears a coup?”

You wanted to sigh but didn't dare. If only he would sheath that damn dagger…

“Yes, that's what I said. And honestly, if someone does, I'm not surprised. I hope it works out for them.”

Azriel's brow arched.

“I mean, the male's horrible. He deserves it.”

You were aware of the dangerous line you were crossing, speaking of your father—your High Lord—like that to an important member of a rival court. You'd never voiced those thoughts aloud to anyone but Eris, and yet here you were. Beron would punish you if he found out. You were first his subject, then his spy, and only then his daughter.

A scarred hand cupped your jaw, Azriel's face now only inches from yours. You could feel his warm breath on your cheeks. “Why do you work for him, then?” he snarled.

His grip on your chin made it impossible to look away, forcing you to meet his golden eyes. In that moment, you let him see your truth, the honesty and vulnerability you never revealed.

“Because I don't have a choice.”

A heartbeat passed, and then his expression softened. You stilled as his hand moved from your jaw to your cheek.

You had seen his scars months ago and immediately recognized what had caused them. Cauldron knew you always kept yours hidden with a glamor, allowing it to dissipate only in the privacy of your bedroom.

Thinking about all your father had put you through made the reality of the situation slam into you. What if Azriel told your father what you had just said? The Night Court and the Autumn Court were not on good terms, but who knew what political machinations were at play behind closed doors. Beron would consider your words a betrayal and punish you accordingly.

Your worry must have shown on your face because Azriel's thumb brushed over your cheekbone, gentle and reassuring. “Your secret's safe with me,” he said softly. He studied you for a moment, and whatever he saw in your expression seemed to convince him to finally put his dagger back into its scabbard at his thigh.

You took a deep, shaky breath, unsure whether it stemmed from believing him or simply from relief at no longer being threatened.

Now free, his fingers brushed over your throat where his blade had been. There probably was a thin pink line there. His featherlight touch sent shivers down your spine.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured.

Your voice was barely a whisper. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You stared at each other, time seeming to slow down. His shadows peeked from behind his broad shoulders, a few tendrils swirling forward and weaving through your red locks, but your gaze locked on his, your heartbeat quickening. His other hand still cradled your cheek.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured.

“What for?”

‘For lying to you.’

‘For sneaking into your Court’s suite.’

‘Because I can't tell you the whole truth.’

So many easy replies, and all of them true. But one in particular pushed at the corner of your mind, one you hadn't been able to shake for months.

“For walking away right after you fell asleep.”

Something flashed in his eyes, there and gone in an instant, but you didn't recognize what it was. You didn't know him well enough to read every subtle change in his expression. Part of you wished you could.

You waited for him to say something—either to tell you he didn't care or that it wasn't a big deal—but as his silence stretched on, you debated whether you should change the subject or perhaps apologize for bringing it up.

Just as you opened your mouth, Azriel spoke again, but his words were not what you had expected.

“I looked for you the day after,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “But you were gone.”

You couldn't help but stare, so caught off guard that you were completely speechless. You had thought about him often since that night, but you never imagined he might have looked for you in the morning. You were torn between feeling even worse about leaving him and the rapid beat of your heart.

A grin curled your lips as you rested your hands on his chest. Even with his armor on, you could recall the lines of the tattoos swirling across his golden skin, a sliver of black ink peeking from his collar. “I was that good?” you teased.

Azriel chuckled under his breath, the sound like a song to your ears. “You were that good.” He leaned in, his mouth brushing against your ear, teeth grazing your earlobe. “You felt that good wrapped around me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and you could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh, igniting a desire that made you want to moan.

“Do you want to do it again?”

He barely gave you time to finish that sentence before his lips claimed yours, eliciting a surprised whimper. Your fingers tangled in his curls, his hands cupped your face, and there was nothing sweet or gentle about the kiss as his body pressed yours against the wall and you began to grind on him.

You parted only to catch your breath, but Azriel was already nipping at your neck, and you tilted your head to grant him more access.

When distant footsteps echoed from a nearby hallway, he didn’t even pull away as shadows wrapped around you both. In an instant, they winnowed you into a bedroom you didn't bother to register, too busy pushing Azriel on the large bed and climbing on top of him.

After that time, you began to plan your meetings. It was often a real challenge to find a moment when both of you could slip away from your duties without raising suspicions, but you couldn't risk your families discovering that you were regularly sleeping with a spy from a rival court.

Then, somewhere along the way, it happened. Sex slowly transformed into making love as you both developed feelings for one another, and around one year later, the mating bond snapped into place. You wanted to accept it, but you couldn't shake the dark cloud looming over your head. It was then that you decided to tell Azriel the truth about who you were, who your father was. He was gone for twenty days after your revelation, and you were left wondering whether it was because you had kept it hidden from him for so long or if he truly had a tight schedule and couldn't make time for a secret rendezvous. But when he finally returned, he assured you that whoever your father was wouldn't change or diminish his love for you. That very night, you offered him food, relief washing over you like a balm.

~~~~~~

And here you were, three years and countless secret meetings later.

“What are you doing here?” Azriel repeated, his voice carrying the usual softness he used when speaking to you, but with an edge of nervousness and impatience.

“My father sent me to retrieve the Veritas Orb,” you explained with a sigh. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to have to lie to your family even more. And… I thought I could do this alone.”

Azriel fell silent, his back stiff, his posture rigid. The shadows had retreated behind his wings. Finally, he asked, “What does he need it for?”

You gave him an apologetic look. “He didn't bother to share that information.”

He nodded, as if he had expected that answer. Rising to his feet, he offered you a hand to help you up from your seat. You took it, his skin cold against your palm, and stood with a frown.

“What do we do now?” you whispered, anxious despite Cassian’s absence. “I didn't mean to bring you into this mess, love.”

Azriel let go of your hand to cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Don't apologize. I know he didn't give you a choice.” He pressed his soft lips to your forehead. “But I can't let you walk out, angel. We need some excuse.”

Right, because letting you leave unscathed and without any information would only get him in trouble with his High Lord. But leaving without the Orb would get you in trouble. And yet, you would rather endure whatever punishment your father would concoct than let your mate deal with the consequences of your reckless actions.

You stepped back, out of the warmth provided by his body. You had a plan, one you knew he wouldn’t like, but it seemed like the only solution to get you both out of this mess with minimal repercussions. Well, for him at least. You doubted Beron would take pity and turn a blind eye to your failure, but it was worth a shot.

“I need you to hurt me.”

His eyes widened, but you went on before he could object. “You can tell Rhysand I was acting alone, that you made sure I won't be a problem anymore, and I’ll go back to Autumn and tell my father I was caught and tortured. But I need you to hurt me and I need you to make it look believable.”

Azriel was gaping. You had never seen him like this before. You knew how your idea sounded, but you needed him to understand the criticality of the situation and agree to it.

“Az, I—”

“No.”

You blinked. “No?”

Something ticked in his jaw, a subtle clench of his muscle. “No,” he repeated, voice firm and unyielding. “I'm not hurting you, love. You can't just ask me to do that. I won't. I can't.”

You studied him for a moment, but you knew he wasn't going to change his mind.

“Fine,” you sighed, extending a hand toward him, palm up. “Then give me Truth-Teller.”

He frowned, and the shadows swirled around him nervously, as if sensing the direction this conversation was taking. “And why would I do that?”

“You won't hurt me, so I'll do it myself,” you replied, as if the answer was obvious.

His eyes widened. “Y/N—”

“Just a few cuts here and there,” you assured him. “Nothing too bad. But my father has to believe it's real.”

Once again, Azriel stared at you, pale as if he had just seen a ghost. “You can't be serious.”

“You have a better idea?” you retorted. Without waiting for his answer, you reached for the dagger at his thigh. The sooner you could get this over with, the better.

Azriel easily sidestepped you, grabbing both your wrists to prevent you from trying to take his knife again. “I'm not letting you hurt yourself either,” he stated. His grip on you was gentle, but his tone was cold. It was the kind of tone that told you he wouldn't take no for an answer.

But neither would you.

“We don't have a choice, Az,” you countered, your voice steady despite the rising tension. Yet you didn't try to free your hands.

Something shifted in his eyes, in his expression. His thumbs brushed over your wrists in soothing motions, and a pleading note entered his voice when he spoke again. “I can't stand to see you hurt, my love. I don't care about the reason.”

For a few seconds, you just stared into each other's eyes. You were still tense and rigid, and fear coiled in your gut at the thought of going back and facing your father. But Azriel's gaze was soft, scarred fingers never ceasing their gentle caresses. In that moment, you realized that he would rather tell his family the truth than let you go back home battered.

And then it hit you. Though you loved the Autumn Court, it wasn't your home. No, your home was Azriel. He had been for years now. Your safe place, the person you could always count on, the one who knew you better than anyone else. Your mate.

“He won't let me leave,” you whispered, and you hated how weak and vulnerable you sounded.

“You're already here.” Azriel lifted your hands to his mouth and pressed a warm kiss on each palm. “You don't need to leave. You just need to stay.”

You shook your head, tears rising to your eyes. “He sent me here. He knows where I am, and he'll come looking or send someone to find me, or—”

“We'll deal with him,” he interrupted you. “But you'll be safe here. I promise.”

You couldn't hold back the tears, then. He sounded so sure, as if it could ever be that simple. As if you could just make the choice to stay and never go back. You wished you could. With all your heart, you wished it could be as simple as that.

“Az, I… I can't,” you murmured, voice trembling.

He let go of your wrists to cup your cheeks, wiping away your tears. “I will protect you,” he reassured softly. “My whole family will, once they know the truth. You will be safe in the Night Court. And if not, then… then we'll go somewhere else, somewhere far away where Beron won't find us.”

We. Us.

For how long had you wished to hear those words? Even after you two had met, you had never truly been a couple. You had stolen moments whenever you could, but it was always you and him—your duties and his. Never a ‘we’, never an ‘us’.

“Stay.”

You closed your eyes, unable to hold his pleading gaze any longer.

“Stay in the Night Court.”

You swallowed, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders as if it were a physical burden. “Az…”

“Stay with me.” His voice broke, vulnerability spilling into every word. “Please.”

What if it were that easy? What if you could make the decision and simply not go back to the Autumn Court? What if you could spend every day and every night with the person you loved with all your heart, with your mate, and not having to hide, to carefully plan every meeting, to weave lie after lie to everyone around you?

When you opened your eyes, Azriel was staring at you. He was still brushing away your tears, but even through their veil, you could see how beautiful he was. How desperate. How broken.

And you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His eyes immediately lit up. “Okay?”

“Yes,” you confirmed despite the quiver in your voice. “Yes, I'm… I’m staying. With you.”

You barely had time to finish the sentence before he pulled you into his arms, your face pressed against his chest as he held you tight. You let yourself go, surrendering to the tears and the sobs shaking your body, clutching his leathers to keep your hands from trembling.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your hair, over and over. “Thank you, my love. Thank you.”

You didn't know how long you just stood there. Minutes, hours, days—it didn't matter. You were together now, and you would always be from this moment on. You were home, and never again would you suffer at the hands of your father.

His shadows swarmed around you, caressing your back and arms, twisting in your hair as if they, too, were excited about what would happen next. You didn't know. For the first time in your life, the future was bright, and happiness was within your grasp.

You pulled back only when your tears ran dry. Azriel pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you both smiled, brightly and lovingly, knowing you would not leave each other again.

“Let's get you out of here,” he said eventually, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers. “There's so much to do.”

Like meeting his family. Revealing your identity, who you were and what you did, and hoping they would understand and not hold it against you.

As Azriel stepped back to turn toward the door, you hesitated.

“Can you promise me something?” you asked, your voice quiet and still a bit hoarse from crying.

He stopped, worried eyes immediately searching your face for any sign of discomfort or concern. “Of course, love. Anything you want.”

“It's nothing too big, just…” You offered a small smile and squeezed his fingers. “No more secrets, Az.”

His hazel eyes softened, and his lips curled into a beautiful smile. He nodded, tugging gently on your hand to lead you out of the cell and into your new life. “No more secrets.”

2nd a/n: if the lines "Stay / Stay in the Night Court / Stay with me" reminded you of another very similar quote, you are correct. I had originally written "Stay in the Night Court. Just... stay with me" and it made me think of that quote, which is one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite books and said by one of my favorite characters ever, so I decided to include it (a little easter egg, if you will). Kaz and Azriel 🤝 simping for the girl they like

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[mortalityplays]

Forgive me if I'm mistaking you for another person, but I remember you speaking at multiple points on the unsustainability of free social media services (I think especially in response to the cohost collapse?), and I'm curious on what your thoughts on bluesky are so far. I'm not an expert on the subject, but from what I've read previously it seemed like they were on track to be financially sustainable, but I don't know if the recent floods of users has thrown those projections off. Sorry if I'm mixing you up with someone else on my timeline, in that case just ignore me.

bluesky will almost certainly follow the same trajectory of monetisation => bloat => enshittification => decline as every other major platform built on venture capital and user hoarding. it's a terrible model that only works in the short term as a mirage for attracting funding and making founders look good for a year or two before they sell.

you can see the same effect in the decline of all the subscription box services that came into vogue just before covid: they feel great to use for as long as the initial injection of venture funding lasts, because the purpose of that funding at that stage is to attract users and impress the next round of funders with how pleasant/intuitive/efficient/ethical/good value the service is. that's the stage where they're handing out freebies and bowling over influencers, and every ingredient in the box is fresh and high quality and locally sourced. wow what a good deal, what a great system!!! why hasn't anyone done this before? the answer is because it's unsustainable by design. they rack up good reviews, sign on a billion new users, attract new funding from a bunch of much more credulous investors, and then gut all of the expensive parts. portions get smaller, ingredients get worse, packaging gets flimsier, prices go up, freebies turn into "5% off your first 9 boxes when you invite 3 friends", and customer service vanishes.

with social media (and platforms like discord) the logic is the same, it's just a little less glaringly obvious to the end user because they're not coming home to leaking packages of rancid chicken on the doorstep. bluesky has an advantage over tiny operations like cohost because it was founded by a billionaire making a point for the sake of his own image. it got a really significant chunk of startup funding, and the owner had existing connections and rep in the space to attract more. That's why it has survived the goldrush period, why it still feels good to use, and why users who have been burned so many times before are finally accepting it as a stable, reliable option. It's still in its venture capital honeymoon phase where the only thing worth spending money on is making the service attractive to users.

What I expect we will see next, with another mass influx of users from twitter and new funding from a rogue's gallery of tech venture sickos led by Blockchain Capital is a strong ramp up into monetising that userbase. They've already been pretty forthright about how they plan to do this, and I think it's a solid roadmap of how Bluesky will bloat and decay over the next few years:

this is a huge lol. don't worry, we're not going to hyperfinancialize the social experience through NFTs. the thing even crypto freaks started feigning amnesia about a year ago. real "our health conscious sodas are 100% arsenic free" messaging here. They know perfectly well that rubes users are suspicious of their typical 5 dimensional tech finance chess games and are patting our hands about last week's bogeymen so nobody worries too hard about whatever 'decentralised developer ecosystem' just happens to be helmed by a bunch of crypto guys. this definitely means something good and based and not a google-like single sign on user data harvesting operation.

This is the same shit that's currently rotting the floorboards of discord. Bluntly, there is no way to run a platform on this scale without gating functionality behind paid services. Discord has been squeezing free-tier file uploads and call quality etc. down steadily and cranking up subscription costs over the last year or two, throwing in chaff like animated avatar frames to try and justify the user cost. They're also doing the same misdirection thing again here, pointing to Thing We All Hate to deflect from thing we might not like very much when they do it. Booo elon booo we all hate elon!!! wait how do we feel about subscription models again,

watch out for this to kill porn on bsky like it has killed porn on every other social platform 👍 boooo we hate elon boooo stupid idiot and his 'everything app' booooo wait why do you need my tax information, what's that about mastercard,

Look, we are all aware social media is a money pit. Let's not forget dorsey was looking to sell twitter in the first place, long before elon's very public plunge into total online derangement. Subscription services are not going to plug the hole, so we are gradually going to see more and more spaghetti thrown at the wall while early funders shuffle cards and do their pyramid scheme bit bringing in stupider and stupider investments. this is the window in which bluesky will be temporarily worth using for us, for the idiot public, the poorly rendered crowd jpegs in the background of their venture capital MOBA. it's in their interests to slow and pad the decline as much as possible, because that is how they get maximally paid.

Given the scale of the money involved, and dorsey's weird ego investment, I think bluesky will probably manage a controlled drift for a good few years before it gets really bloated and painful. and by then we will all be so used to the *checks notes* decentralised developer ecosystem that we'll just be posting through it, watching another generation of columnists call another collapsing platform 'their beloved hellsite' and passing around that meme about not getting out of our chairs no sir until idk we all get on a fediverse neurolink alternative to stick it to the elongated muskrat and our brains pop peacefully in our sleep. which I guess is the closest thing to viability any social media platform can achieve.

anyway diogenes the cynic is also on bluesky

[filthyguts]

sketchbook doodles as it’s 4 am so I thought maybe . I’d share my specific kira headcanons from my twit thread. Strap in its unda the cut and it’s a lot because I’m normal about him whatever

- HATES dogs due to an incident from when he was a kid, slight phobia

- I’m always 50/50 on this but I like the headcanon of kira potentially having a type of albinism, both his parents carried the gene

-he’s superstitious, on account of his mother being VERY superstitious, which probably didn’t help with any compulsions he was dealing with internally as a kid and into adulthood

-Liked to burn ants and bigger bugs with a magnifying glass as a kid

-surprisingly low pain tolerance

-Has never kissed another person (until he kissed shinobu on the cheek during BTD)

this extends to other things do with this information what you will *large sign in flashing lights that says VIRGINNNNNN*

-he does not know how to kiss. because he hasn't done it to an actual living breathing person, if he were too in earnest it's intense he's all teeth and tongue it would be literally terrible, but he does give sweet knuckle kisses

he can give a polite cheek kiss but if he had to do one of the lips he’d be cooked like it would be over for him he might bite your tongue off on accident(or..?) like ur better off sticking two fingers in his mouth and hoping for the best instead of getting your lip ripped off

-absolutely LOVES the smell of a fresh coat of nail polish, doesn't care that it makes him light headed

-super veiny hands and wrists one paper cut and it's over for him

-killer queen feels really cold to touch, but its arms and hands are hot

-average at playing the violin, does dabble from time to time in the quiet of his home but it's not very often

-yes we know he sucks fingers but he also likes to likely gnaw because he likes the texture on his teeth (not in a cannibal way though he thinks the idea of actually eating flesh is disgusting and irresponsable)

-just really loves neutrals and easter colors, designer suits all the way obvi

-when he first gained killer queen (I hc he was about 19) it always looked like this pic below with the exposed skull, only when he started to better mask his homicidal tendencies and urges did KQ gain its "mask"" and how we see it now

-despite his obvious feline affiliations he doesn't want a pet cat, the hair getting everywhere would drive him crazy (plus he's got killer queen

-kira didn't name killer queen himself, the only time it ever spoke to him was once. when he first manifested KQ after the arrow, Killed Queen told Kira it's name quietly while standing behind him, this scared the shit out of him, which sounds badass and spooky but was also probably subconsciously because Kira had a Queen CD he purchased a year prior that he liked WELL UR JUST SEVENTEEN AND ALL YOU WANNA DO IS DISAPPEAR

-occasionally drinks (that's canon) but meaning he likes to get winedrunk with his girlfriends on special occasions, or socially drinks when forced to go out for company outings, once came home decently hammered and almost phoned a travel agency to get a one way plane ticket to France to see the Mona Lisa ,

did not follow through with this when he woke up the next morning. The idea of seeing her at the Louvre is almost too much for him, feels like touching an exposed nerve.

-is 100% having sloppy makeout sessions with his severed hand girlfriend with candles, dim lighting, and mood records + thinks it's the peak of romance and gets giddy about it like someone with their first crush. Because he's insane

-can feel a phantom sense for Sheer Heart Attack, no pain due to its durability, but can feel the heat tracking in his hand and it readying to explode once it’s found its target. The tracking feels like a tingling sensation to him akin to a compass, like a pulling. and the explosion feels like a pleasant blossom of warmth

-loves the subtle flavor of different lotions (not freshly applied) that linger on the skin, salty fruity fragrant and slightly chemically is his favorite. 🤢

- tries to be incredibly Normal when going for routine dental checkups and cleanings for obvious reasons. When he was in his early 20s and didn’t quite have his urges and homicidal tendencies in check- one of his early victims was a dental hygienist

-his dad(yoshihiro) was into cheesy action movies and would often take kira when he was a kid to the theater, kira didn’t really care for it overall, the explosions were always cool though.

He doesn’t watch movies often but he doesn’t mind drama and romance.

-gets cold pretty easily

-scary good at walking quietly, like a cat stalking prey, when he started working at kameyu- he went to hand some documents to a coworker, startling them pretty bad bc they didn’t hear him come up- he IMMEDIATELY stopped doing that unconsciously after that incident, he makes sure his footsteps are “normal” are soft, not aggressive, but can hear heard enough.

- in the moment he likes the feeling of blood drying on his skin, but once the adrenaline wears off he’ll wrinkle his nose and be like >:// then hop in the bath to clean up(it’s usually not his bath)

-went to the same school Reimi Sugimoto attended in Morioh, never once did he hold a solid conversation with her, she only spoke to him briefly once about missed homework. But that’s not to say he didn’t know who she was. Eerie :(

- His SECOND favorite early spring, likes taking strolls along to coast with his girlfriends, enjoys the breeze.

But his FIRST favorite season is summer, when all the tourists come to Morioh. It’s easy for people traveling to simply disappear 😨

-aside from nail biting, had a compulsive skin picking habit as a child but this was quickly squashed by his mother who’d give him a swat on the wrist each time he was caught

-subconsciously wishes his girlfriends could grab him back- (this isn’t to say he wants to rest of the person though 🤢) a squeeze on the waist or shoulder would probably do him good but it’s not like he consciously yearns for this- it would shatter his otherwise perfect lived fantasy and setup of control 😒

-his favorite finger is tied between either the pointer or the ring finger. He likes being able to bend the fingers and do what he wants, relishes in the subtle crack of the joints 🤢

anddddd that’s all for now. hell isn’t hot enough for him

[sage-the-dragon]

(Hi, so this is in Jason’s POV with GN!reader. I hope you enjoy… this is my first time actually writing Jason so yay. Um warnings include allusion to potential suicide at the end, and reader becomes an aunt/uncle in one of the letters. Other then that it’s just Jason dealing with emotions 🙃)

The night was quiet except for the police sirens echoing throughout the city. The night was so quiet that I decided I would take off the helmet and be alone with my thoughts. A dangerous concept that I never really allowed myself to divulge into.

As I rode through the streets, letting my bike take me wherever it wanted, all my thoughts seemed to continuously circle back to them. Their laughter, their smile, all the small things that we did together before… I shook my head slightly, increasing the revs, it doesn’t matter now. They’ve moved on, they’ve forgotten me. And, it’s probably for the best.

I tried to think of anyone else, anything else. The lastest drug traffic, what black mask was up too. Anything. The hurt of being forgotten clawed at my heart, tearing its way into my chest. Tears filled my vision and I pulled off the road. Kicking the kickstand and turning off my bike, I practically through my helmet off. Inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, my body ragged with emotion of my past life. My life before what he turned me into.

I looked up and around at where I was. Freezing, I saw the overgrown rusted sign reading ‘Gotham Cemetery’. Well, I suppose I couldn’t have stayed away forever. Sighing, I made the choice to visit my grave. Trudging along the unkept, loose gravel pathway, hands in my pockets and jacket zipped up, I walked towards the barren area of my grave.

I stopped in my tracks, someone was there. Was that… are they at my grave? Faint sniffles and talking could be heard, but I couldn’t make any of it out. I side stepped to a pillar of a gravestone, hiding behind it. I don’t know exactly why I did that, I suppose I wanted to see what this person was going to do without scaring them off. I watched from the distance, as the mysterious person placed something down, a hoodie concealing their features. I continued to watch them as they stood up. As they turned to walk away, a glimpse of moonlight struck their features.

“Y/N,” I whispered. They were here… they were visiting my grave. I- I wasn’t forgotten. I nearly slapped myself for even thinking that they could have forgotten me. Never cared for me. They were too kind for that, too thoughtful, too loving…

I watched as they walked away, hands in their pockets. As they exited the cemetery, I ran wandered over there.

There it is. ‘Jason Peter Todd’ ‘A Good Soldier’.

But below the ‘heartfelt’ writing, was a seemed to be fresh bunch of red roses and a sturdy looking box, a metal box that appeared to be waterproof. Looking around the grave yard for anyone, I opened the box. Inside was piles upon piles of letters. Each addressed to… me.

So of course I did the respectful thing and opened all of them. One by one. Reading all of them.

“To my dearest Jason,

I miss you so much. Not a day nor a second goes by where I do not think about you. Now does it result in my crying most of the day, yes. But I’m okay with that. If I could trade all my tears, all my book collections, all my memories before you just to bring you back to me, I would. You were are the dearest thing in the world to me, my most perfect boy, and nothing can ever change that.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Y/N”

Tears pricked my eyes as I closed the letter just to open another one.

“To my darling Jason,

I went to school today. I haven’t been for a while because of… well, your departure. But I went today! The classes were boring, English made me think of you. Our friends say I’m not my usual self, but who can blame me. I only lost you 2 months ago. The wound is still fresh. But I know you would want me to continue school, get an education in this world, to take care of my self. It will be hard, but I know it will be worth it in the end. I’m looking forward to seeing you again, someday.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Y/N”

Each letter recited their day to me. It was like I was there, having them come home to me and telling me every little thing they did that day. Like I was watching them do it. A smile was plaster on my face as tears were streaming down my face. I barely noticed except for the few drops that landed on the paper. I was so incredibly happy, yet so incredibly sad. They didn’t forget me, they love me. Anger tore through me, I can’t believe that fucker took me away from them. But I continue reading. New emotions tearing through me with each day or week that I read. New boyfriend? Instant no, turns out that they broke up after a week. Good, still single then.

A twinge of guilt hit me as I though that as I closed the letter. They should be happy. They deserve to be happy, I shouldn’t be happy that a relationship didn’t work out because it wasn’t with me.

I continued on reading all night and into the early morning.

“To the love of my life that will forever have my heart,

I became an aunt/uncle (I’m sorry I don’t know a gender neutral term 😭) today!! I have a beautiful nephew named Ben. I’m so happy, he’s so cute and already curious for the world. He reminds me of you actually. I was a crying mess when I held him in my arms for the first time. My sister is so happy but recovering from the birth. I wish you could meet him. As I wish on every single shooting star I see, somehow wishing you back into existence with me. To have everything how it should be. You and me together.

I love you.

Yours forever,

Y/N”

As the sun’s rays started to bless the dark Gotham sky, glistening on my tear streaked face and soppy grin. I came to the last letter. The letter that they just put here today, or I suppose yesterday now.

“To my precious boy,

I love you with all my heart, and I will never stop. But times are getting hard and all I want in life is to see you again. I know it’s bad. I know I should go talk to someone, but non of them understand. Except for Dick, I see him every fortnight when he comes up to Gotham from Bludhaven. I don’t long for anything on this earth anymore than I long for your arms around me again. Your scent to envelope me again. All your clothes have lost your scent, your room in the manor is losing it too.

No one understands me like you do Jay. Every new relationship that my friends nudge me towards fail because I’m looking for you. Your caring nature, your love for classic literature, your passion for fighting for those that can’t fight for themselves. I miss you too much, and I have tried so hard these past 2 years… I know you must be disappointed in me. But you’ve surely seen me struggle these past years without you.

I love you so so much, I hope you can forgive me when we meet again very soon.

Yours forever,

Y/N”

My eyes widened as I finished the letter. My brain short circuited, not computing what I just read. They were- no I can’t let that happen. I shoved the letter back into the box with the others and ran to my bike.

No one could save me. But I damn well as going to save them.

Please Y/N, I love you too. Every wish you made has come true. I’m here now, just wait a little longer. I memorised their current address from 2 of the letters they had written. I didn’t care for the road rules, the street signs, the speed limits. I was getting them before we had a reverse Romeo and Juliet.

jason todd x reader where the reader still presumes he’s dead and visits his grave every week to give him a letter because they used to communicate through letters for fun to the point where his grave has boxes of letters. meanwhile, jason thinks reader forgot about him until he visits his own grave to see reader dropping off another letter and after they leave he takes the time to read each letter they’ve left since he died and gets emotional. okay, goodnight !

[vitalverstappen]

Flash Forward - M. Verstappen (part two)

summary: The world of F1 is never easy. Throw in your childhood enemy and a new coworker you can't quite get a read on? You're in for a wild season.

pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader (Ferrari photographer, graffiti artist, childhood enemies), Charles Leclerc x platonic fem!reader, Logan Sargeant x platonic fem!reader

warnings: swearing, drinking, use of y/n, google translated Dutch, inaccurate descriptions of the Ferrari factory (literally couldn’t find ANY photos), mild slut shaming, brief mention of Jos Verstappen. Some of the race results are slightly inaccurate to fit the storyline. Sue me.

a/n: part 2 is finally here!!! Hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it!

word count: 24.7k

masterlist

part one

Monte Carlo, Monaco

The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies filled your apartment as the oven timer beeped. You got up from your spot on the floor, past the dozens of half unpacked boxes that littered the floor, and transferred the treats from the oven to a cooling rack.

The offseason had treated you well so far. Charles and Alexandra had helped you pick out an apartment in Monaco, you had visited your friends and family back home, and you hadn’t seen a single gossip page post about you and a certain Dutchman.

Charles, Alexandra, and yourself were in the middle of attempting to unpack your stuff. You were grateful for the two of them helping you, but the building you had chosen felt oddly familiar. Though a finger couldn’t be placed on why it did.

“What are you even doing with all of those?” Charles asked as he got off of the couch and made his way to the counter opposite of you. 

“Giving them away to the neighbors” You said “A little offering for me being in the building” 

It was a gesture your mama had suggested when she heard you were moving out of the Netherlands. Three dozen cookies were scattered around your counter, with one last dozen being scooped onto the baking tray. Plenty for the people on your floor, and a few left over for snacking. 

“Why? You’re probably never going to see your neighbors ever again” He said, grabbing one of the cooled cookies and taking a bite out of it “These are really good” 

“Charl!” Alexandra chided her boyfriend as she finished setting up a few of your framed photos on the bookcase

“It’s all good, Alex. I made extra for a reason. Help yourself” You said as you slid one of the plates of cooled cookies closer to the girl 

You watched as her eyes lit up when she took a bite of the treat “He’s right. These are so good. Where’s the recipe from?” 

“Family recipe. I got it from mama” You replied 

“Ugh I’ll have to bug her for it. But I know your neighbors are going to love them” She said 

She was right, the neighbors that you got to meet did love them. As the days passed, you were able to meet the couple that lived to the left, the girl that lived to the right, and the group of guys that lived down the hall. But no matter how many times you knocked on the door across from you, no one was home. 

You assumed the apartment was empty at first. There were a handful of units that the building was trying to rent out, and the one across the hall must have been one of them. But your idea was quickly thrown out the window by small signs of life from the apartment. 

They started small, with Amazon packages in front of the door. The idea to check and see who they were addressed to popped in your head, but you quickly dismissed the thought. You wouldn’t be able to live down the embarrassment of someone catching you in the act.

A pair of APL sneakers were the next thing you found out by the door. They had to be male, with a size around size 41, and painted white with touches of navy blue. No distinctive marks about who the shoes belonged to. The shoes stayed there for a few days, occasionally with a padel racquet propped up against them. 

It wasn’t until you returned home one day that you got to meet the person who lived across the hall. You had been out and about taking photos while exploring the city of Monte Carlo. Your feet ached and all you wanted was to lay down and take a nap. 

You were at your door, fiddling to find the right key to your apartment, when the door from across the hall flew open. Jumping out of your skin, you turned to see who was the cause, and came face to face with the man you thought you wouldn’t have to see for at least a few more months. 

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Max questioned, his eyebrows furrowed 

“Trying to remember which key is the one to my door.” You said, jiggling the keys you had on your lanyard like it was obvious, “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I live here” Max answered, pointing back to the apartment he had just come out of

At that moment, everything made sense. Of course the building felt familiar, you were in it roughly eight months prior after the Monaco Grand Prix. Of course Charles got all giggly when you told him this was the unit you chose. 

“Oh, riiighhtt” You said, pretending to remember as you searched through your keys once again. Thankfully, you quickly found the one you were looking for as you sped the next sentence out of your mouth, “Well it was great seeing you but I have things to do. I’ll see you around” 

Max couldn’t get a word out as you hastily unlocked your door and entered your apartment, closing the door behind you. 

But Max stood there in the hall, processing what happened. And you missed the small whisper of “It’s good to see you too” that left his mouth. 

Your camera bag was tossed carelessly on the floor as you whipped out your phone. Normally disregarding your prized possession like that would cause you to wince, but you had more pressing matters on your hands. 

The phone rang once, then twice, then a third time, and you were starting to think she wouldn’t pick up. You knew she was awake, it was the same time back home as it was in Monaco. After the fourth ring, her voice finally filled your ears. 

“Hoi lieverd, hoe gaat het met de verhuizing? (Hi dear, how’s the move going?) ” Your mama asked as she answered the phone

“Niet slecht, er staan nog steeds overal dozen (Not bad, there’s still boxes everywhere)” You sighed as you ran your fingers through your hair.

“Uitpakken is altijid lastig. Uiteingelijik kom je er wel doorheen (Unpacking is always a pain. You’ll get through it eventually).” She assured you. “Heb jij je buren al ontmoet? (Have you met your neighbors yet?)”

“Ja, ze lijken allemaal leuk. Je raadt nooit wie er aan de overkant van de gang woont. (Yeah they all seem nice. You’ll never guess who lives across the hall)” You said as you moved to one of the scattered boxes. It was labeled dishes. 

“Wie? (Who?)” Your mama asked as you started to put some of your plates away into a cabinet

“Max Verstappen” You answered. Silence overcame the two of you as she processed what you said “Mama?”

“Is dat niet prachtig, pompoen! (Isn’t that lovely, pumpkin!)” She exclaimed once it finally hit her. “Je hebt een bekend gezicht in het gebouw! (You have a familiar face in the building!)

“Nee, mama. We zijn geen vrienden meer. Ik heb je verteld wat er vorig seizoen gebeurd is -. (No mom. We’re not friends anymore. I told you what happened last season -.)” You began to protest, but your mama was having none of it. Your mama knew exactly what had happened with Max, but that didn’t stop her from her delusions. 

“Ja, ja. Maar je kunt hem beter uitnodigen voor een etentje. Nu moet ik gaan. Ik heb koekjes in de oven. (Yes, yes. But you better have him over for dinner. Now I have to go. I have cookies in the oven.)” She said. 

You said your goodbyes, and hung up, leaving you alone in your apartment to unpack, across the hall from an unexpected neighbor. 

======

Max returned later that day, bags full of items he bought on his errands. He was greeted by a small plastic sandwich bag on his doormat. A mere moment away from stepping on its contents, he only realized it was there by the crinkle under his foot. He didn’t think anything of it as he picked it up and carried it into the apartment with the rest of his stuff. 

The bag was filled with cookies, and a handwritten note was taped to the outer plastic. Calligraphy donned the piece of paper that looked familiar, but Max couldn’t place where from. 

Thanks for welcoming me to the neighborhood. Enjoy the taste of home :) 

The cookies looked exactly like the ones from his childhood. The ones he could only get at the grade school bake sale. The ones he would purchase with his saved up money from raking leaves and shoveling snow. 

Thoughts of what could happen crossed his mind. He knew it could easily end badly, eating some cookies randomly showing up on his doorstep. But the second he dumped the treats out on a plate, all worries left his mind. 

When the cookie hit his taste buds, he was suddenly nine again. The bake sale had just opened. Kids crowding around one particular woman, all trying to get their hands on that chocolate chip cookie. 

And now one of the few people in the world who knew that cookie recipe lived across the hall from him. 

Maranello, Italy 

The sun beat down as you skated down the sidewalk outside the Ferrari factory. Italy in the winter was warmer than you expected, much warmer than the winters back home, causing you to leave your puffy coat in the car. The cracks in the uneven sidewalk caused the board to wobble underneath you, forcing you to hop off before you reached the front doors. 

It was the first full staff preseason meeting of the year, and the factory seemed to have a new life to it. Naturally, you showed up a bit early, giving you plenty of time to poke around and take some photos. There was no real goal, just to get the point across that the factory hadn’t sat empty for the past two months. 

You were standing on the mezzanine balcony that overlooked the main entrance to the building. As people would enter, you were able to snap photos from above. Most people walked right under, not even noticing you were there, but occasionally you would be spotted and get a wave or two. 

Carlos was the first of the drivers to walk in. The clicks of your camera prompted him to look up, the classic confused look plastered to his face. 

“What are you doing?” He asked 

“My job” You answered before joking “Can you pretend to not look miserable to see me” 

“That’s kind of hard to do” Charles said as he entered the atrium, hearing your conversation. You rolled your eyes as you continued to snap photos of the two drivers. 

“He’s not wrong.” Carlos mumbled, fighting the smirk on his lips “But I meant with the tripod.” He pointed to the tripod that stood next to you, angled down at the atrium entrance. 

“I’m filming” You stated “Most of the film will probably be posted on the Ferrari socials, but some stuff, like this conversation, I’ll scrap and throw in a vlog.” 

“You’re vlogging?” Charles asked 

“Why?” Carlos added 

“Are you trying to become internet famous?” Charles finished, curiosity lacing his words. 

“What? No,” You said, rejecting his claim “I’m doing it to spread awareness about women in motorsports. There’s only a handful of us to raise the next generation.” 

“Wow. That’s a lot better than being internet famous.” Carlos said, clearly impressed 

“Thank you Carlos. I’ll see you guys at the meeting. I have a few more things I wanna shoot before I head to the room.” You said. The two drivers made their way under the balcony towards the meeting room. 

Packing up your phone and tripod, you headed down to the main level of the building to capture a few more photos. The loud chatter of people echoed the halls as the meeting room doors were wide open. As you entered, you were one of the last ones to the room. Charles, Carlos, Benedetto, and all the higher ups who you were sure didn’t know your name sat at the front. You made your way towards the back of the room, somehow finding a seat next to Annalese. 

“Hey” You said as you slid into your seat, carefully putting your camera bag at your feet. Since it was just the intro meeting, you had no reason to photograph Benedetto and the other execs droning on. 

“Hey! How are you doing? How was your break?” Annalese asked 

You shrugged. “Not bad, definitely busy. I moved to Monaco, which has been exhausting.” 

“Wait, that's so exciting! Didn’t Albon and Russell just move there?” She asked 

“Alex did? I’ve seen George, Lando and Charles quite a bit, but didn’t realize he moved too. We had a few game and movie nights during the break.” You told her “The only thing that sucks about it is that Max lives literally right across the hall.” 

“No he doesn’t” Annalese said in disbelief 

“Yes he does” 

“The universe really decided to torture you” Annalese chuckled

“Don’t even get me started” You replied “He hasn’t been a problem yet.” 

“That’s good.” She said before her face lit up. “Oh my god I almost forgot. Y/n, this is Isabella. She’s the new photographer we hired. Isabella, this is Y/n.” 

Your attention turned from your boss to the girl sitting on the other side of her. Her long brunette hair matched perfectly with her eyes. The name tag everyone was forced to wear during their first few days was pinned to her Ferrari branded polo. You were aware that the company had been looking for a new photographer to help lighten Annalese’s workload, but wasn’t informed they had actually hired one.

“Hi, I’m Y/n” You introduced yourself “It’s so nice to meet you. Welcome to Ferrari” 

Isabella responded with a soft smile as she spoke “Thank you.” 

Just like you thought, most of the execs that spoke during the meeting droned on. Once you heard one of them lack any enthusiasm as they claimed they were so excited for the entire season, you could block out the rest. The speaker that made you snap out of your daydreaming was none other than the new Team Principal, Fred Vasseur. 

“Wow guys” Fred began, his voice bellowing through the room. “It is an absolute honor standing in front of you guys today. I know each and every one of you work your asses off every day to make this team run, and I am more than excited to work with all of you.” 

Sakir, Bahrain

The first day back in the paddock was always nerve racking. Teams were making final adjustments to the cars before the public got to see them, rookies were about to make their debuts in the cars they dreamed of driving as kids, and you were back to running around like a mad man. 

Even though the paddock was full of anxiety and preseason jitters, it was also full of a sense of familiarity. Faces that you haven’t seen since Abu Dhabi, and names of people that you couldn’t quite remember. 

Ferrari had moved up to the second garage along pitlane, with Mercedes dropping and kicking out McLaren. Unfortunately, Red Bull was still on the other side of the red terminals, after winning the Constructors Championship last season. 

You were in the midst of giving Isabella her paddock tour, just as Annalese did you a year prior. The new photographer took in all of the information you gave her: which teams prefer visitors on what days, what teams to avoid, and which teams will let you sneak into hospitality and take a warm chocolate chip cookie (Thanks Williams). 

As you approached Williams, you noticed a blonde headed boy you had never seen before. He was standing next to Alex, who towered over him, the two of them in deep conversation. The blonde seemed much more reserved, taking everything in rather than doing much of the talking. 

You slowed your pace, glancing at Isabella to see her taking in the scene. Alex exuded his usual vibrant energy, while the blonde exuded a quiet focus, his blue eyes absorbed every detail. 

The Ferrari red polos always made you stick out like a sore thumb near the blue Williams garage. Alex quickly caught sight of you, waving both you and Isabella over. 

“Y/n!” he called “It’s so good to see you. How was your winter break?” 

“Not bad. Charles convinced me to join the Monaco group” you replied, excitement bubbling inside you

“He did? We’ll have to meet up sometime when we’re both back home. Lily and I will have to show you some of our favorite spots” 

“You’ll have to beat Charles and Alexandra to it” you warned before turning to your coworker. “This is Isabella, our new photographer for the season.”

“It’s so nice to meet you” she said, giving the driver and the blonde a warm smile.

“I’m Alex, and this is our new driver, Logan” 

Logan offered a shy smile, his blue eyes bright with curiosity. “Hi, nice to meet you both” he said, his voice soft but steady 

Isabella’s excitement to be in the paddock seemed to encourage the blonde “So, how are you finding your first race weekend, Logan?” She asked 

“It’s amazing” He replied, glancing at Alex before continuing “Everything is so fast paced, and there’s so much to learn, but I love it.” 

Alex chimed in “He’s been doing really great, really picking up on things quickly. We’re lucky to have him.” 

Logan glanced down to your red polo before remeeting your eyes. “Are you also a photographer?” 

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips, “Yeah, I mostly work with Charles, but you’ll probably see me bouncing all around Ferrari.” 

Logan copied your nod, clearly intrigued with your role in the team “That sounds really cool. It must be amazing to be so close to everything.” 

“It is. It’s definitely overwhelming at times, but that’s just part of the fun” you said

Further down pit lane was Ferrari’s former neighbors, and sure enough the garage was bustling. Mechanics were busy assembling the car, engineers were analyzing the data from testing, while Lando and an unnamed man were yapping right outside. 

“So that’s Lando, he’s one of the McLaren drivers.” You informed Isabella as you pointed to the curly haired man. “And I’m going to be so honest, I have no idea who the other guy is.” 

At the sound of your voice saying your name, Lando’s head turned. The other guy followed suit, his eyes landing on the two of you. Lando broke into a smile upon seeing you, while the unnamed man’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Y/n!” The Brit exclaimed as he walked over to you “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you”

“You saw me last week, Lando.” You informed him. “This is Isabella, she’s the new Ferrari photographer” 

As you looked between the two of them, you could see Isabella practically throwing heart eyes at the driver. Was he conventionally attractive? Sort of. But knowing his playboy personality, he wasn’t someone you’d wanna be with romantically. 

“I’m Lando” He said as if it wasn’t obvious before motioning to the other guy to come join the group. “And this is Oscar. He’s my new teammate” 

“Hi guys” He said, a thick Australian accent peaking through. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, much less enthusiastic with the unexpected guests. You assumed his demeanor was just from the nerves of the first day, all of the new information and new people popping in and out was overwhelming. 

“I’m y/n” You said “Isabella and I are both photographers for Ferrari” 

You learned a bit more about the Aussie, both from him telling you and Lando making slight comments. Lando joined you in swapping stories from the paddock, filling both of the newbies in. Each time Lando spoke, you swore hearts grew in her pupils. 

“They seem nice” Isabella spoke as the two of you finally left the papaya behind 

“I can’t vouch for Oscar, but I know Lando is. Most of the drivers are good guys.” You told her

Thankfully she didn’t ask for any explanation on what you meant by most. Having to explain your personal childhood beef and adult situation with the reigning World Champion would’ve bruised your ego a bit too much. 

Finally, you found yourselves standing in front of the final garage on pit lane. The navy blue was ice cold, a complete one eighty from the slight warmth it gave you before. The garage was emptier than McLaren’s but still had a few stragglers working on the cars. 

“And last but not least, Red Bull. Last years Constructor’s Champion, and home to last year’s Driver’s Champion” You said

“And home to the best content team on the grid” A voice said. 

Both you and Isabella turned around to see Meg approaching. You shook your head, but cracked a grin as you introduced the two girls to each other. 

“You’ll probably be seeing her and the other Red Bull girls pretty often. Aside from being garage neighbors, we do collab content with them occasionally” You informed the new photographer 

“Speaking of which, we have something scheduled in an hour.” Meg told you 

Your eyes widened as you processed her words. “We do?” 

======

And that’s how you found yourself, along with the rest of the Red Bull and Ferrari media teams, outside the teams’ hospitalities. Two hippity hops balls were in your hands, one blue and one red. Yourself, along with Isabella were setting up the activity you were forcing the four drivers to do, while Meg, Sofi, and Jess were setting up the cameras and lighting. 

“What the hell are you making us do?” Charles asked as both him and Carlos exited the Ferrari motorhome. At the same time, Checo and Max joined the group as they made their way through the paddock. 

Holding up the hippity hops, a shit eating grin formed on your face as you answered “We’re playing a game!” 

When Max’s gaze first landed on you, his heart skipped a beat. Your hair color slightly changed since he saw you in the hallway, but you looked just as amazing in the Ferrari polo he knew you were forced to wear. He only looked away when Meg was giving directions. 

“The rules are simple” Meg said once everything was set up. “The first person is going to hop the hippity hop from this tape mark, to the table down there. When you get to the table, there is a track name written on a piece of paper. When you’re done drawing the track, you turn around and hop back. Give the ball to your teammate and they’re going to do the same thing”

“There are four different tracks so no one can cheat,” Jess added. 

As expected, chaos ensued. Opposing drivers tried knocking each other off of their rides, while laughs were held back by everyone on the media teams. Fans and employees alike couldn’t help but stop and watch for a few moments as four of the best drivers on the grid made an absolute fool of themselves. 

After a highly competitive race, the Red Bull boys were deemed the winners. The media teams cleaned up the mess that was made, as the four drivers simply meandered around, yapping to whoever would listen. 

You were breaking down the foldable table with Isabella as Max approached. Out of the corner of your eye, Max fiddled with the Red Bull can in his hands, trying to figure out what to say to you. 

“Hey” Max finally said 

“Hi Max” You replied, your focus still on the table that wouldn’t fold 

The hand that wasn’t messing with the Red Bull was stuck in his pocket. “Just wanted to say thank you for the cookies. They were really good” 

Your eyes broke from the table to meet his for the first time that day. “You ate them?” 

When you put the cookies on his doormat, you didn’t know what would happen to them. You assumed he would just ignore them or throw them out. The thought of him eating them didn’t come close to crossing your mind. 

“I mean, yeah” He answered as if it was obvious “It was the same recipe your mama always made for the bake sale, right?” 

“I-yeah, they are. She gave me the recipe when I graduated grade school” You told him. It was hard enough to process the fact that he ate your cookie peace offering. But for him to remember that it was your mama’s recipe, and the same one she brought to all of the fundraisers truly blew you away. 

“They taste just like how I remembered them,” Max said. “Hope the move to Monaco wasn’t too bad” 

“It was pretty easy. Charles and Alexandra helped pick out the place. The two of them and a couple other guys on the grid helped me move in and unpack. I think the hardest part was meeting my crazy neighbor that lives across the hall.” You joked, though it was partially true. 

“You two know each other?” Isabella asked, causing you to break your gaze away from Max. To be completely honest, you forgot she was even there. The table had been folded up and she heard your entire conversation. 

“Yeah, we uh” You began, not really sure how to label the childhood enemies to semi friends to whatever you are now. 

“We grew up together,” Max finished. You gave him a quick smile, thanking him for saving you. 

“Grew up together and I happened to move into the apartment across the hall from him. Didn’t even know he lived there.” You said “If you want to head back to Ferrari, go ahead. I’m taking these to the Energy Station and then I’ll be back” 

The two of you watched as Isabella made her way back to the red and black motorhome. Neither of you dared to move a muscle until she was gone. 

“How’s the new girl been?” He asked

You glanced back to the Ferrari motorhome to make sure she was gone before speaking. “She’s okay. Definitely gonna take a few races to grasp everything. She was eyeing Lando earlier when we ran into him on her pit tour” 

“Somehow I’m not surprised” Max said, shaking his head “He could breathe and girls would flock to him” 

“Right” You agreed. 

Max wasn’t sure how the first interaction with you during the season would go. He was expecting you to ignore him, storm off or cause a scene. The absolute last thing on his list was you being willing to hold a conversation. 

“Do you need help carrying the table?” Max asked, though he was slightly relieved when you declined the offer. His hands were sweaty, and with his luck, he’d end up dropping it. 

The two of you grew quiet as neither of you knew what to say. The sound of your shoes crunching on the broken asphalt filled the air. 

“So you didn’t move across the hall to get closer to me?” Max joked, breaking the temporary silence 

“No Max, I didn’t” You answered “I honestly completely forgot you even lived in that building. When I went to your place, it was late at night in a city I didn’t know at the time” 

“I figured. I’m surprised Charles didn’t say anything” He said 

“I’d honestly be more surprised if he had told me” You chuckled. Charles was definitely a yapper, but he knew you would’ve tossed any thought of moving to Monaco if you knew you’d be neighbors with Max.

“That’s fair, he’s picky with what info he shares” Max said “How’ve you been though, since last season?” 

“Really good” You answered “All the crazy rumors have gone away.” 

The words hit Max harder than they should’ve. You were never his, and he was never yours. But god did he wish you were. Rumors were the closest he had gotten, and he never wanted more than those crazy rumors to be true. 

“That’s good, glad they all died down.” He said. The last thing he needed was to ruin the civility between you. So, he swallowed the lump of feelings and forced a smile. 

You had dropped the table off outside of the motorhome for their media team to pick up when they got there. Quickly, goodbyes were said before you made your way back to Ferrari.

======

The race on Sunday was forgettable. 

Charles had done well until he was forced to retire due to an engine failure. While Carlos placed in fourth, the Red Bulls had taken the top two steps, with Max landing on the top. As much as you would have loved for Ferrari to join the Red Bulls, you weren’t sure if you could deal with hearing your national anthem yet. 

So, you volunteered to be the photographer that followed Charles to the media pen. It gave you plenty of chances to get more content of the driver. Most of the photos were going to turn out the same, just him yapping, but you didn’t care. The images would most likely end up on your photography dedicated Instagram account, and that was fine. You just needed a reason to be busy. 

After celebrating the win with his team, Max entered the media pen with his PR manager. One of the Ferrari drivers was in the pen already, though he only realized it was Charles when he spotted a familiar camera lens a few feet away. 

He moved through the rituals of answering the media's ridiculous questions, every once in a while looking to his right to catch a glimpse of you. Each time, you could feel his eyes land on you as well as the exact moment they left. You were able to quickly snap a photo of him when his focus was no longer on you. Another group of B roll images that would end up on your photography account. 

======

You were fortunate enough to travel back to Monaco immediately after your job was done. As much as you loved traveling and exploring the world, you were always happy to be home. 

The same couldn’t be said for Max. His plan was to leave Bahrain as soon as his media duties were done, but due to a failure in the engine, he was forced to stay another day. It wouldn’t have been a problem, if he didn’t have the cats waiting for him. 

Usually, the cats would be fine for a race weekend. He would have the guy down the hall check in on them, giving them fresh food, water, and litter. But, the guy down the hall went on vacation the same day Max was going to be back. It left him with no choice but to reach out to someone else.

It was late when you finally got back to your apartment. Very little debate was needed to decide that the unpacking could wait until the morning, opting for a warm shower instead. When you got out, you weren’t expecting your phone to go off. 

Max: Can you do me a favor? The plane is broken so I’m stuck in Bahrain for another day

Your eyebrows furrowed as you read the text. As much as you didn’t want to help him, you knew he wouldn’t reach out unless it was absolutely dire. Your fingers danced around before typing up a response. 

You: Depends, what do you need?

Max: Can you take care of the cats for me? My usual sitter left for vacation today. It’s just feeding, water, and changing the litter 

As his next message came in, you knew you had to say yes. You had fallen in love with Jimmy and Sassy the second you walked into Max’s apartment last season. It would be cruel to say no. 

You: Yeah, I can. Lmk where your key/the supplies are and I’ll run over

A sigh of relief left Max’s lips as he received your texts. He quickly sent over instructions on the cats, along with where his spare key was located. You shot back a “thanks” before going on your way. 

Even without Max telling you, you easily could’ve guessed where his key was. The only thing outside his door was a dirty mat. Without second thought, you lifted up the corner. Sure enough, a silver key sat under it. 

The key slid into the lock and twisted with ease. Twisting the knob, you pushed the door, but it wouldn’t budge. You tried again, knowing full well you were supposed to push, but again it stayed shutl. On the third attempt, the door finally burst open, and two pairs of cat eyes stared at you from the other side. Meows from the duo ensued as you closed the door behind you. 

The apartment looked almost exactly like you remembered it last season. His helmets were hung along the walls while some of his trophies were displayed on shelves. His sim was tucked into the far corner of the living room, flanked by more F1 memorabilia. You couldn’t help but chuckle when one of the newest trophies to his collection, the Driver’s Champion trophy, was carelessly placed on a mini fridge stocked full of Red Bull. 

Following the directions Max had sent you, you were quickly able to find the litter as well as the food and water. When you got to changing the food, Jimmy weaved his way in and out of your legs, almost causing you to trip over him. Sassy cautiously watched from a distance as you went about your job, but let you get close enough to her to snap a photo of the two cats. After one last look over the apartment, you made your way back across the hall. 

Max received one last text from you letting him know the cats were doing well. Thoughts of you taking care of the felines with him flooded his mind as he received the photo of them. 

Baku, Azerbaijan

You propped your phone up on a ledge in a relatively quiet corner of the paddock. At the start of the season, you decided you would vlog every single race weekend, and Baku was no different. It was the first sprint weekend though, giving you plenty more content. 

Outside of the motorhome, you filmed the introduction, including explaining the sprint weekend schedule. Because of the additional race, qualifying and practices had been altered, moved, or removed to accommodate. 

You’d be lying if you said vlogging felt completely normal. During the first race weekend, you were so in your head and convinced people were making fun of you that you almost completely scrapped the idea for the entire season. 

“What are you doing?” you heard a voice ask. Your attention turned from your phone to the stretch of sidewalk you were on. Logan was standing there, confusion plastered on his face. 

You smiled, a little embarrassed, “Just vlogging the weekend. Figured I’d share the F1 experience” You gestured to your phone where you quickly stopped the recording. 

Logan raised an eyebrow, stepping closer “That’s a bold move in this paddock” He chuckled, but there was a hint of genuine interest in his voice.

“Yeah, I guess it is. At first, I thought people would think it’s silly, but I’m really enjoying it now. It’s a different way to connect with the fans.” 

He nodded, leaning casually up against the ledge. “I get that. Everyone loves the behind-the-scenes stuff. It’s fun to see the real side of racing.” 

A rush of relief filled you as he showed his support. “Thanks. What about you? How’s everything going at Williams?” 

Logan shrugged, indifference shown on his face. “Eh alright. I don’t think the car is where it’s supposed to be, but there’s still plenty of season left.”

“Got to stay optimistic, right?” you replied “You know what would make you feel better?” 

“What?” Logan asked, his eyebrows furrowing

A smirk formed on your lips as you stood up. “A fresh chocolate chip cookie from Williams”

Logan laughed, shaking his head “You’re not wrong, those cookies are to die for. It’s a shame I already had my allotted cookie for the day.” 

“Oh come on. I don’t think it’ll kill you to have one extra cookie. It’s a pick me up.” you teased 

“Tell that to my trainer.” Logan said “We’d have to sneak in there if we wanted any”

The wheels in your head began to turn, already plotting “Easy. I’ll need your help getting in though. You know I don’t have access” 

“Deal” Logan said, a playful spark in his eyes. “Just don’t let the team catch you, otherwise I’ll be in trouble” 

“Trust me, I’ll keep it discreet.” You said as you picked up your phone. “Do you mind if I vlog the walk to Williams though?”

He shook his head “Not at all. Honestly the entire thing would make for some good content” 

“Perfect” you said as you hit record again. “So change of plans. I ran into Logan, and we are currently on the way to the Williams motorhome to go and grab some cookies. For those of you who don’t know, Williams is known on the grid for having the best and freshest sweet treats.” 

As the two of you walked down the paddock, you and Logan talked about how he navigates through a race weekend, and how he’s feeling about his first F1 sprint weekend. You finally got to the Williams hospitality, your stomach hurting from laughing so much with him. You paused your recording to strap your phone to place it in the harness you got specifically to capture behind the scenes footage. 

“Wait, how are we even doing this?” you asked, looking at the American 

“I’ll distract, you grab the goodies,” he said, you nodded in response. 

After pressing record once more, you followed Logan into the Williams building, hoping that your Ferrari red would blend in just enough. The dining area was bustling, a couple of the team members chatting while others worked on prep. In the far corner sat the cookie jar. 

Logan walked over to the lady who was overseeing the dessert station, easily striking up a conversation with her. The way she was facing blocked her view of the cookie jar, giving you an easy route to take them. 

You walked over, acting like you belonged, and grabbed enough for you, Logan, and the two Ferrari boys, as you were filming with them in a bit. Once you had the cookies, you tapped Logan on the shoulder, letting him know you were good. Both you and Logan disappeared out of the WIlliams hospitality, into the blazing heat of Azerbaijan. 

Eventually, you got to the bright red Ferrari motorhome. The blasting A/C was a welcoming relief as you escaped the heat. Both of the drivers were sitting at a table talking, only noticing you when you approached them. 

“Well, well, well, look who finally showed up” Carlos spoke as he got up from his chair 

“Oh shut up” You said, rolling your eyes “I ran into Logan and grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from Williams” Both of the drivers' ears perked up. They knew how good those cookies were. 

“Did you bring us any?” Charles asked 

You moved your hand from behind your back, showing two cookies wrapped in a napkin “You know I wouldn’t keep these away from you” 

“You are amazing” Carlos said as he, along with Charles, took a cookie. 

“I know, I know” You smiled before placing your camera bag on the table “It’s going to be a fun session today though” A groan left both of the boys’ mouths, cookie crumbs following suit. 

“The last time you said that you made us stick clothespins to our bodies” Carlos reminded you.

“Yeah, and that was fun for me” You smirked, “But I think you guys are actually going to find today enjoyable” 

Both of the drivers exchanged glances as the only sound came from you unzipping your camera bag. You took out one of your cameras, offering it to Charles. 

“You are becoming tour guides” You said “You can pick who's going to operate the camera and who’s gonna be on camera, but you guys are going to give a tour of the garage, motorhome, and general paddock area” 

In addition to the camera you handed Charles, you took out another one for you to use. While you strapped your phone back onto the mount on your chest, the drivers decided that Charles was going to record and Carlos would be in front of the camera. 

“So how do I work this thing?” Charles asked, clearly confused by the gadget in his hand 

A chuckle left your lips before you walked him through everything he would need. You could see the pure joy in his face when he discovered to zoom and focus by turning the lens. As he hit the red record button, you were ready to roll.

“Hi guys, today I am going to be giving you a tour of the paddock in Baku.” Carlos started as he looked around the motorhome. “Charles is here too, he’s operating the camera today” 

“Hello guys” Charles said as he waved his fingers in front of the lens, clearly way too close for comfort.

The tour of the motorhome was nothing short of boring. Carlos danced in someone’s empty office, in addition to almost spilling the entirety of the pot of freshly brewed coffee. As the three of you left the motorhome, Charles offered up the camera to Carlos. The Spaniard happily took it before looking to you like a lost puppy. 

“Can you show me how to operate?” He asked 

You passed the camera in your hands to Charles before walking over to Carlos. Just like you did with the other driver, you walked Carlos through the buttons and everything he needed to do a good job. Once Carlos got the idea, you took your camera back from Charles. 

“Alright guys, we are now in the main walkway area of the paddock. Most of the time spent here is walking to and from the motorhome and the garage, or to our various media commitments” Charles said to the camera

As you turned to follow Charles and Carlos down the pavement, you found Max walking towards the group. The smile on his face quickly dropped when he realized you weren’t the one operating your camera, and that it was Carlos instead. But the smile, along with an increased dose of nerves, returned when he saw you a few feet behind the driver. 

“Is he taking your job?” Max asked, motioning to Carlos. Both of the Ferrari drivers were hypnotized by their task that they didn’t notice the Dutchman. 

“You could say that” You chuckled  “I figured I should stop torturing the guys during my sessions with them and actually give them something fun to do” 

“I wish our media team did something like this. It gets boring constantly doing interviews” He admitted 

Your eyebrows furrowed “Didn’t you guys go offroading across Austria a few years ago?”

“I mean yeah, but that was years ago” He said “I mean I want more fun things in the paddock. You guys always have the best ideas” 

Your cheeks grew warm as you took in Max’s compliment. It was always fun when Ferrari and Red Bull worked together, but you knew where he was coming from with Red Bull’s ideas being boring. As much as you loved their media team, whenever it came to a meeting with them, it always ended with tons of their ideas being scrapped. 

“Thank you, Max” You said, a soft smile forming on your lips, “I’ll have to check our calendars and see what we have going on in the next few races. If there’s time, we should definitely do another collab” 

In the distance, you could see Carlos and Charles getting further and further away. If you didn’t follow them now, you knew you would never be able to find them again. Turning to Max, your soft smile turned into an apologetic one. 

“I’m so sorry but I have to go. I don’t need Tweedledee and Tweedledum breaking my camera” you apologized 

“No worries” Max said “I’m surprised you even let them touch it in the first place” 

A laugh left your mouth as you said your goodbyes to Max. You quickly turned around and jogged down the paddock to catch up to the two drivers who were still goofing off. 

The rest of the filming session went as smoothly as it could.  Shenanigans still ensued, but thankfully your camera was still intact, and filled with tons of content for you to use. 

======

It was almost ten at night when you entered the hotel lobby. You had just gotten back from the track, and by the looks of Max standing at the elevators, so did he.

“Hey stranger” You called as you approached the driver 

Max turned to see you walking towards him. You still had on your work uniform, and exhaustion all over your face. But when he locked eyes with you, a small smile formed, but your eyes screamed you needed to go to bed. 

“Hey, how was your day?” He asked 

“Long” You replied “And it’s not even close to being over.” 

“What? Aren’t you just going up to bed?” Max asked 

You chuckled as you shook your head “I wish. I still have to eat dinner and edit some of the content from today. I’ll probably get to sleep in a few hours.” 

Max winced as he heard your plans for the night. While he knew there was more to a media job than snapping photos and recording videos, he didn’t think the responsibilities would spill so late into the night.  

“Do you want a friend? Just so you’re not alone?” Max suggested 

“Oh, you really don’t have to” You said as the elevator doors opened. Max followed you into the lift. “You have to drive tomorrow” 

“So?” He asked “I usually stay up late looking at data anyway. It wouldn’t be a problem” 

“Alright, if it isn’t an inconvenience, you can join me.” You gave in “But I can’t have any distractions, I need to get this stuff done tonight. It’s all going out tomorrow” 

A ding filled the elevator signaling that you had reached the correct floor. The doors opened and you followed Max out into the hall. 

“Deal. I’ll go change and then I’ll be over” He said as he made a left down the hall, while you made a right. 

“Oh, and y/n?” He called 

“Yes?” 

“Room service is on me tonight” Max told you. As much as you wanted to object and say you could take care of yourself, Max had disappeared down the hall. 

You quickly made your way into your hotel room, showering and trading your work polo and jeans for a black Ferrari hoodie and matching sweatpants. As you set up your laptop and the SD cards of your two cameras, a soft knock landed on your door. Opening it, you found Max on the other side. He was dressed in a similar sweatsuit to yours, only being navy blue instead. His hands filled with his laptop and a pair of headphones. 

“Come on in, make yourself comfortable” You said as you moved to the side.

Max made his way into the small hotel room. The queen bed was the centerpiece, but two desks lined up against the far window, giving a gorgeous view of the city lights of Baku. He saw your stuff on the desk to the right, so he opted to place his stuff to the left. 

“So, what’re you thinking for dinner?” He asked as he took out the pamphlet that had the room service menu on it. 

“Depends, what are you getting?” You replied as you walked up to him, barely being able to comfortably look over his shoulder at the menu. 

Max could feel your presence behind him. Every breath, every movement was taken note of. A jolt ran through his body when he felt your chin land on his shoulder, trying to get a better look at the paper he was holding. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of the menu, desperately trying to think of an answer to your question. 

“I-uh um, probably the kebabs” He stuttered out, before handing you the menu over his shoulder 

Your eyes glanced over the menu, eventually choosing one of the chicken dishes. Max watched as you picked up the phone and placed the order, his mind still spinning from how close the two of you were moments earlier. 

“Alright, it should be here soon” You said once you hung up the phone. “Thank you for paying for it, you really didn’t have to.” 

Max shrugged “It’s no problem, really. It’s the least I could do to make your day a bit better” 

As the two of you waited for your food, you got to work. The main goal was to edit the tour that Charles and Carlos had given earlier in the day. Easy, right?

Wrong. 

It started with the fact that Max was simply in the room. There was nothing he did or said that forced you to take your eyes off of your screen to look at him, but you did. In fact, he was quite respectful. He didn’t say a word to you as you attempted to work.

But you couldn’t help but catch yourself staring at him. You didn’t know why, it was just Max afterall. Just Max who continuously made fun of you in grade school. Just Max who almost got you arrested years ago. Just Max who welcomed you to Formula One with open arms. Just Max who you cried to in the hotel in Miami last season. Just Max, who you developed a crush on last year that you swore you bottled up and put on the shelf. 

At least, you thought you did. 

It only got worse when Max realized that you were staring. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, only doing a double take when he saw your attention was on him already. He removed the headset and paused the video he was watching to turn to you. 

“Are you okay?” He asked 

“What?” You questioned snapping out of your daze. “Um yeah, I’m good” 

Max’s eyes narrowed, not believing you for a second. “Are you sure? You were looking at me weirdly”

“Yeah, no, yeah I’m fine. Just lost in thought. Editing decisions, that’s all” You explained 

He nodded, still unsure whether or not to be convinced. Before he could question your reasons, a knock on the door caused him to break eye contact. 

“I’ll get it” He insisted 

You watched as Max got up from his seat to your door. After a brief exchange between the driver and the hotel worker, Max came back with two trays in his hands. You rushed over, taking the second tray from him so he wouldn’t spill. As your fingers brushed his, you fought to capture the butterflies that were taking over your stomach. 

“Thank you again, Max” You said, placing your tray down at your station. 

“Of course, y/n” He replied as he followed suit by placing his tray at his desk. “How’s the video editing going along?”  

“You wanna see it?” you asked, a smirk dancing on your lips 

“Of course” 

You scooted your chair closer to him, dragging your laptop and your food along with it. As you rewound the video to the start, you could feel Max rest his arm on the back of your chair. 

Laughter immediately ensued as you pressed play. The camera was slightly shaky as Charles’ voice asked for help on how to use it. Your voice was faintly heard as you explained, before cutting to Carlos introducing himself and explaining the reason for the video. 

The footage continued, showcasing the areas around the paddock, garage, and motorhome. Every so often, you would chime in, giving Max little behind-the-scenes tidbits. Suddenly, the film changed to a part of the paddock you don’t remember being at. 

“This must have been when we were busy yapping” you said as you squinted at the screen

“Yeah, glad nothing happened to the camera while you were gone.” Max said “You can never trust the two of them” As if on cue, the screen jostled and a view of the grass was shown. 

“He dropped my camera?!” You exclaimed, your eyes widened at the sight “I’m going to kill him” 

Max burst into laughter, clearly entertained by your reaction. “At least it still works” 

You shook your head in disbelief, a mix of frustration and amusement bubbling in you “I shouldn’t have expected anything less from the idiots.” 

Max leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips, “You know, instead of a tour, you could title the video: ‘How not to handle a camera, featuring C squared” 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but chuckle. As you resumed the video, you watched Charles pick up the camera, his sheepish grin evident even through the shaky footage. “Oh he knows he messed up” you muttered, watching as he tried to make light of the situation, joking with Carlos in the background. 

Monte Carlo, Monaco

As much as you loved traveling, you were thankful for Formula One to return to Monaco. Living out of a suitcase was tough, but the experiences you got made it all worth it. 

With you having a place in Monaco, you offered Logan and Oscar your place for the weekend. The three of you had slowly grown closer as the season progressed, bonding over running late to whatever track you were at, watching random sporting events, and a lot of FaceTime calls. 

“Holy shit!” Logan exclaimed as he walked out to your balcony, his eyes wide with disbelief. “This is your view?” 

You chuckled, leaving against the railing beside him. “Pretty incredible, right? It never gets old.”

He gazed out at the breathtaking scene - the sparkling blue of the Mediterranean stretching out beneath the blazing sun, the picturesque harbor filled with yachts, and the iconic winding streets of Monte Carlo. The only change to your regular view was the presence of the grandstands placed around the streets.

“This is unreal,” he said, shaking his head in amazement, “I cannot believe we get to spend the weekend here.” 

Oscar joined the two of you out on the balcony, a grin on his face as he took in the view for his first time. “It’s definitely a step up from the hotel rooms we usually get” he joked

You laughed, appreciating the camaraderie that had developed among the three of you. You knew Logan and Oscar had been friends, and former teammates in karting, so you were grateful the duo welcomed you to the friend group. 

“I figured it’d be nice to have a home base instead of just dealing with a cramped hotel room” You shrugged

Logan turned to you, sincerity in his eyes “Thanks for offering this. It makes a huge difference. I feel like I can actually relax before the race.” 

“It’s no problem at all” you replied “It’s fun having friends around” 

“You already have a certain someone around though” Oscar chimed in a teasing tone in his voice. You furrowed your eyebrows, intrigued. “Max is across the hall, isn’t he?” 

The boys both knew about your situation with Max - the reigning world champion often being a topic of conversation on those late night calls, mixed with playful teasing and curious speculation. You felt your cheeks warm at the mention of his name. 

“Yeah, he is,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone casual, but the slight flutter in your stomach gave you away. “But it’s not what you think” 

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “What do you mean? Just friends sharing a building?” 

You nodded, though the teasing glances exchanged between the two of them made you a little self conscious. “Exactly. We’re just neighbors. We don’t even hang out when we’re both home.” 

Oscar leaned in, clearly enjoying the moment. “Right, but you two hang out in other places around the world, sharing room service and media content.” 

You rolled your eyes, laughing but feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Okay, yes. We’ve had some fun moments together. But it’s all professional.” 

Logan chuckled “Sure, professional. Until you end up showing him more than just your photos” 

You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile “You guys are ridiculous. Max is great, but I’m focused on my work.” 

“Just admit it,” Oscar said, still grinning “You wouldn’t mind having him around more often.” 

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “Okay, maybe I wouldn’t mind it” you admitted, finally coming to terms with the resurfacing feelings you had for the Dutchman. “But let’s be real. I have a job to do.” 

Logan nudged you playfully “Exactly, you can’t let a guy distract you. We need those epic shots of us on the track.” 

You rolled your eyes “I don’t even take photos of you guys.” you shot back, playfully dismissing him before disappearing back into your apartment. 

======

The Grand Prix being in Monaco though, only meant plenty of running around with the hometown boy and late nights editing content. Qualifying had ended hours earlier, but you and Charles were still stuck in the paddock, filming videos for all of the Ferrari social media pages. 

“I think we have one more to do, then we should be good” you said, your voice full of remorse “I don’t know why they chose to throw all of this on us with the race being tomorrow” 

Charles chuckled, running a hand through his hair, clearly tired, but still in good spirits. “It’s part of the stress of a home race. Everyone wants a bit of you.” 

“Tell me about it” you agreed as you set up the last shot. Thankfully the last thing on the to do list was a simple thank you video to the fans. Once the camera was set up, you moved the driver into frame, and pressed record. 

Even through the visible exhaustion on his face, Charles executed his words perfectly. Times like this made you grateful to work with a driver who was able to crank out the grueling work quickly, so both of you could get out of there. 

“Perfect” you said after stopping the recording. “Thank you again for doing all of this, it wasn’t fair to you” 

Charles shrugged “It’s like this, can’t change any of it now.” he said. You couldn’t help but smile at him messing up the saying ‘it is what it is’. 

“True. But you’re free to go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” you said as you packed up your camera, tripod, and phone that was recording the behind the scenes 

His eyebrows furrowed as his head tilted “Are you not leaving too?” 

You shook your head. “Not yet. If I go home, I’m going to crash, and I need to get everything we just did edited for tomorrow.” you answered 

“You better not stay up too late though” Charles warned “We need you ready to go for tomorrow” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle “I’ll try, but you know how it is - there’s always one more thing to tweak. Regardless, there’s nothing a can of Red Bull won’t fix.”

A smirk formed on Charles’ lips, his eyebrows both raised. It took you a second to process what you had said. 

“I meant it as a general term for an energy drink” you explained yourself, thankful that the paddock wasn’t super bright so he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks 

“Yeah, sure you did” he rolled his eyes, the smirk still plastered on his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow y/n.” He said before turning to head to the exit 

“See you tomorrow, Charles” you echoed before turning and entering the Ferrari motorhome

As you worked hastily in the paddock, trying to get everything done for the night, Max had entered your shared apartment building, ready to rest before the race the next day. What he didn’t expect to see was a certain American driver already standing at the elevator doors. 

“Logan?” Max questioned. Sure enough, the blonde turned around, his face filled with just as much confusion as Max’s. “What are you doing here?” 

“Just trying to get some rest before the race tomorrow.” He answered “I’m staying with y/n for the weekend. She offered her place.” 

Max’s eyebrows raised as Logan’s words hit his ears. She offered her place. They repeated in his mind. “Oh, did she?”  

Logan nodded, a friendly grin on his face. “Yeah, she’s been super accommodating. Figured it would be easier and cheaper than trying to find a hotel.” 

The elevator echoed a ding through the lobby. Once the doors opened, the drivers walked in, Max opting to lean up against the wall. 

“So you’re just crashing with her, huh? How convenient.” he said, crossing his arms. Indifference feigned from his mouth, but curiosity, mixed with a tinge of jealousy bubbled underneath the surface.

“Yeah, it’s quite nice being literally walking distance to the track. I’ve never had anything like this before” The American said, pressing the button for the floor Max shared with you. 

Max couldn’t help but chuckle, trying to mask his intrigue. “I’ll have to admit, she picked a great building to move into. But you didn’t just come for the accommodations, did you?” 

Logan shot back a look. He knew Max was trying to bait him, get him to slip up and admit something he didn’t actually mean. “Y/n’s a great friend, always fun to hang out with. She’s been showing me her photos and paintings. They cover her walls.”

Again, Logan’s words struck Max like a bullet, just as another realization hit. Logan had seen your apartment before Max had. He had seen your hotel rooms and childhood bedroom, but never your current residence. 

Max’s expression shifted slightly, a mix of amusement and annoyance. “Oh really? She’s shown you her art? That’s…nice.” The words felt heavy on his tongue as he tried to keep his tone light.

“It’s impressive. You should ask her to show you sometime” Logan replied, only slightly aware of the undertones of the conversation “She has a real talent for capturing the energy of the races.”

The younger image of himself blazed in Max’s mind. He knew all too well how good you were at capturing the energy of a win. 

“Sure,” Max replied, forcing a nonchalant tone. “I’ll add it to my list of things to do.” 

As they stepped out of the elevator and into the hallway, Logan continued to praise your work. “Yeah, it’s honestly great to see someone so passionate about what they do. It makes you appreciate the whole atmosphere in the paddock more.” 

Max nodded, his mind racing far away from the conversation in front of him. He didn’t want to admit it, but the thought of you and Logan spending time together stirred something within him. “Yeah, she’s definitely talented.” 

The rest of the walk down the hall was silent, neither driver really knowing what to say. When they got to their respective doors, they exchanged nods, bidding the other goodbye. Logan turned first, Max expecting him to knock on your door, but was quickly caught off guard when he inserted a key into the slot. 

His heart sank as he watched the knob turn, the door creaking open quickly after. Logan walked in, giving no glance back to his gridmate before the door closed again. 

Max stood there for a moment, staring at the door. The reality of Logan being in your apartment felt like a punch to the gut. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the already built irritation. 

“Get it together, Max,” he muttered to himself. He had no right to feel possessive, and had much bigger things on his plate in the next twenty four hours. 

======

The Grand Prix was relatively forgettable. While Charles’ strategy was pretty standard, Carlos’ had to be one of the worst you’ve ever seen. 

“What the hell are they doing with his race?” you asked Annalese, running into her along the pit. 

She glanced at the engineers and strategiests sitting on the wall, each of them with their eyes glued on data filled screens. “No clue. Honestly we could call a better strategy than them” 

“Exactly” you agreed “Every time I’ve heard his radio, it’s just been him complaining” 

“To be fair, he does complain a lot,” Annalese laughed before bidding you goodbye to get back to work. 

Towards the later half of the race, you found yourself at the final corners. A few other photographers were there, all of you aiming to capture the final laps of the Grand Prix. 

As the cars roared past, you focused intently on capturing the action, your camera clicking in quick succession. While your focus was on the two cars in red, you could help but to capture a few photos of your roommates for the weekend as they drove past. 

To no surprise, Max had crossed the finish line first. You were able to get a few shots of him from a distance, as there were literally no other cars remotely close to him. As neither of the Ferrari boys finished on the podium, you made your way back to the garage, where you found Isabella looking at her camera. 

She looked up as you approached, as if she felt your presence. “Was your race as boring as mine?” she asked 

You nodded, “Yeah, the best shot I got was of this cool looking bird that landed on the railing during lap 65”

Isabella laughed, shaking her head “At least you got something. All I got was the pit wall’s collective frustration” 

“Well that’s their own doing” you chuckled. “I did manage to get a shot or two of Max weaving around the Anthony Nodges curve. The team is gonna have to pay big bucks for them though” 

“Oh yeah, they’d totally do that” Isabella said, sarcasm dripping from her words. 

You glanced down pit lane at the celebration of Max and his team. Laughter and cheers echoed all the way down the straight, with the Dutch Anthem soon to follow. 

“Are you going to the after party?” Isabella asked, forcing you to tear your gaze away from the commotion. 

You shook your head, “Nah, it’s gonna be total chaos out there. I have a bottle of wine and photo editing calling my name” 

“I get it. I guess you can kinda go out whenever ‘cause you live here” she said “I’m excited to see what the nightlife is finally like.” 

“Oh it’s fun.” you emphasized “Knowing Max, you guys will probably end up at either Jimmy’z or Sass Cafe. Just be careful. You never know what the guys are gonna get into” 

With one last glance at the festivities down the pit, you said goodbye to your coworker and headed out. 

======

Max needed that win badly. He needed the win to prove he was the best. He needed the win to prove to himself he was better than some American on the grid. 

But more importantly, Max craved the after party. The wild celebrations, the loud music, the flashing lights - anything and everything to help him escape the pressure. He needed to forget the win, forget the American, and especially forget you. 

Just like you predicted, Max found himself and the rest of the party at Jimmy’z. The club was alive, a whirlwind of energy and sound that enveloped him the second he stepped inside. The bass pulsed through his body, drowning out most of the doubts and expectations of the weekend. 

Except no matter how many drinks he had, the thoughts of Logan in your apartment still lingered. The image of both of you together, the laughter, the easy intimacy - it was a ghost that haunted him. Every beat of the music seemed to echo the sound of your door closing, with Logan inside. 

What made it worse was that neither of you were at the party. Every time he glanced around, he hoped to find you in the crowd, only to be met with a sea of unfamiliar faces. Max knew you were always hit or miss when going out, but he assumed since it was in a place you were familiar with, you’d be joining. 

As the night wore on, he pushed through the crowd, seeking distractions in drunken laughter and loud cheers, but the absence of you and Logan loomed larger. Each moment of joy was tainted by the feeling of something missing, a void he couldn’t ignore. A hole that needed to be filled. 

He started by surrounding himself with his friends. Lando had just gotten done mixing a set and was leaving the dj booth when Max found him. 

“There you are, mate!” Lando said over the booming music, his face lit up with excitement. “You like the mix?” 

“Yeah, it was great,” Max said, nodding slightly. The music had been the last thing on his mind. 

“Thanks, it’s brand new” Lando continued, completely oblivious to the fact Max wasn’t listening. The Brit spotted the empty glass in Max’s hands prompting his face to light up again. “Next round is on me” 

Max didn’t have the time to argue as Lando made his way to the bar. Max followed, weaving in and out of the crowd, only to be handed a shot by his friend. 

The two men clinked the glasses before tapping them on the table and putting them to their mouths. Max downed the shot quickly, the burn a welcome distraction. 

“Congrats on the win again,” Lando said. Max barely muttered out a “thanks”, and for the first time that night, Lando’s happy-go-lucky disposition changed. “You doing alright, mate?” 

“Yeah, just tired” he replied, hoping Lando would drop the topic and move on

Lando studied him for a moment, concern creeping into his expression. “No you’re not.” his eyes narrowed, as if he was zeroing in on the problem. “You’re still mad about y/n and Logan, aren’t you?” 

“What? No.” He scoffed. Lando gave him a knowing look. Max’s shoulders slumped in defeat “Yeah”

Lando’s expression softened. “You’ve got to let it go, Max. You can’t let this ruin your night. Celebrate your win!”

Max ran a hand through his hair, frustration slowly bubbling up to the surface. “It’s not that easy, mate. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I can’t help it.”

“Look,” Lando said, leaning in closer, his voice serious. “You’re going to have a million nights sulking. You can’t keep carrying this around with you. Enjoy the moment. Let loose. Go find some girl to entertain you for the night.” 

Max let out a sharp laugh, though it lacked any real humor. “You think some random girl is gonna fix this?” 

“Maybe not fix, but it could help take your mind off things for the night.” Lando shrugged, handing him a glass filled with god knows what

Max stared at the drink in his hands, the ice clinking against the glass as if mocking him. Lando’s words hung in the air, and he could feel the weight of the night pressing down on him. It was true - he needed a distraction, something to pull him out of the spiral of thoughts that had haunted him since he saw Logan enter your apartment. 

His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a girl who could fill the void that you unknowingly left. At the edge of the dance floor, Max caught the gaze of a small brunette. He quickly chugged his drink, placing the empty glass on the bar. 

“I’ll see you around” Max said to Lando before making his way back through the crowd

Max pushed through the mass of bodies, the bass pulsing with each step he took. As he approached the brunette, he felt a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. She was laughing with her friends, her smile bright and infectious, but he couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut. 

“Hey” he said, leaning in slightly so he could be heard over the music. She turned, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. 

“Hey! You’re Max right?” She asked, the driver nodding in response “Congrats on the win today” 

“Thanks, I appreciate it” He said, a genuine smile creeping on his face for the first time tonight. He couldn’t lie, the girl’s energy was infectious. 

The two of them quickly found themselves intertwined with each other, the beat of the music driving every movement. Max felt the tension in his chest ease as they danced, the thoughts of you slowly fading away. 

Meanwhile, you, Logan and Oscar had made yourselves comfortable in your living room. The sound of the Cars movie filled the background as the three of you split a bottle of red wine. Your laptop sat on the coffee table as you edited the photos from the day, constantly being interrupted by one of the guys. 

You adjusted your position on the couch, leaning back into the cushions as you sipped your wine. The warmth of the red liquid relaxed you, contrasting with the lively banter between Logan and Oscar. The American was to your right on the couch, his arm resting behind you, just close enough for you to bump into it whenever you moved. Oscar on the other hand was sprawled on the floor, claiming he needed to stretch. 

“Hey, can you pause that for a second?” Logan asked, looking over your shoulder. “I wanna see those pics from earlier.”

You looked at the laptop, filled with candid shots from today’s adventures at the track. “Sure.” you said, hitting pause and turning the screen to face him.

Logan leaned in, close enough for you to get a wave of his cologne. “These are sick. We need to get you over to Williams next season” 

“Yeah, good luck trying to get Annalese to agree to that” you chuckled

Oscar made his way off of the floor over to the other side of the couch. “You should post that photo of Max going around turn 19. It’s really good” 

You smiled at the thought, but still your stomach twisted. It wouldn’t be the first time you posted Max, but you didn’t want the fans to get the wrong idea. 

“Yeah, I might” you replied, forcing your focus back to the photos. “I just want to make sure I have the right ones picked out.” 

The three of you set back into a comfortable rhythm, sipping wine and tossing comments about the movie. But every time you caught a glimpse of the photos of Max, your mind wandered back to him, and the party you were missing out on. 

“Are you alright?” Oscar asked suddenly, catching the shift in your demeanor

You forced a smile, maybe a bit too big to be genuine “Yeah, just thinking about the shots” 

Oscar raised an eyebrow, not convinced with your answer “Thinking about Max?” 

You sighed, looking down at the photo of the navy blue car, the cursor hovering directly over the cockpit. “Yeah” you sighed “Kind of wishing I went out with them” 

“Are we that boring?” Logan asked, his voice dripping in pretend hurt

“Of course not” you said, “Just not everyday you get to celebrate a Grand Prix”

“You’re right, it’s only almost every weekend” Oscar said, your eyes rolling in response

As the movie continued, you tried pushing the thoughts aside and immersing yourself in the present. For now, you could enjoy this night, even if part of your mind was still on Max, hoping he was finding his own way to celebrate. 

Your thoughts were cut off by the sound of your apartment door jolting. The sound was far from a knock. It was much more demanding, as if the cause was trying to force itself into your place. You exchanged glances with the two boys on your couch before you got up to investigate. 

As you approached the door, your heart raced with curiosity. You glanced back at Logan and Oscar, who looked equally as intrigued, their laughter from the movie fading into silence. 

You opened the door, just enough to get a peak who was behind it. On the other side stood a disheveled Max. He was slightly out of breath, the unmistakable scent of a party lingered on his lips. His apartment key was in his hand, and his focus on the lock on your door. 

“Max,” you spoke, causing the Dutchman to look up, his expression shifting from confusion to recognition. “What are you-” 

Before you could finish your sentence, an unmistakable voice filled the hall “Y/n!” 

Your head snapped to the source of the voice, your eyes widening as you made eye contact with a certain brunette. The reality of the moment crashed over you as you glanced back at Max, whose focus was now fully on you. The tension in the air was palatable.

“Isabella” you whispered, choosing your next words carefully, a knot forming in your stomach. “What are you doing here?” 

“Max invited me over!” she exclaimed, the same intoxicating scent wafting off her tongue. “I didn’t realize you two live together.” 

“We don’t” you clarified, trying to keep your voice steady. “I live here. Max lives across the hall. Isn’t that right, Max?” 

The tension thickened, his cheeks pink with embarrassment as he slowly processed the mistake, “Right” he agreed, turning to your coworker. “I live right there,” he said, pointing to his own door across the hall. 

Suddenly, footsteps echoed behind you, halting the uncomfortable situation. Max’s eyes widened, taking in the presence behind you as the warmth of a hand rested on your waist.

“Is everything alright?” Logan spoke from behind you, his voice cutting through the tension.

“Yeah” you replied as your tone grew harsher. Your focus was still locked on Max. “Max here just happened to forget which apartment is his. I was just helping him get the correct one. Right Max?” 

Max swallowed hard, his gaze moving to the hand resting on your body. “Right” he repeated, turning to Isabella and taking her hand as he stepped back.

As you closed the door, a groan escaped your lips, the frustration finally bubbling to the surface. Logan and Oscar exchanged glances, curious about what just transpired. 

“What was that all about?” Oscar asked, now sprawled out on the couch

“Honestly, I have no idea” You sighed, running your hands through your hair in exasperation “It’s like he completely lost his mind” 

“Max took home Isabella and thought y/n’s apartment was his” Logan clarified, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“Oh” the Aussie said, finally sitting up, a look of realization crossing his face “I guess the good thing about this is that you finally know how he feels?” he suggested, an awkward smile on his face. 

Both you and Logan gave Oscar a glare that would wipe out an entire country. 

Oscar raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing nervously “Alright, alright. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

======

Sunlight streamed through Max’s curtains signaling that the day was beginning. The night before felt like a distant memory, a surreal blend of laughter and reckless abandon that danced just beyond his grasp. He squinted against the bright light, wincing at the pounding in his head confirmed the reality of it all. 

Shifting slightly, Max felt the weight of his body pressing into the sheets, sticky and tangled from the heat of the night. The remnants of conversations echoed in his mind - the mix of playful banter and hints of something deeper. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the night had changed something, but he wasn’t quite ready to piece it together. 

With a groan, he pushed himself up, the world spinning slightly as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. He glanced around the room, still a bit disoriented. Photos of races and trophies adorned the walls, reminders of his life as a driver, but it was the incessant buzzing of his phone that caught his attention. 

Reaching for it, he noticed the screen lit up with a message. As he unlocked it, confusion flooded his head when he saw Isabella’s name flash across the screen. He had no recollection of her evening giving him her number.

Isabella: Had a great time last night! See you in Spain ;)

Max’s eyes snapped wide as the reality of the night before settled in. The conversation with Lando, the way Isabella had danced, and then the moment he’d invited her back to his place. But more vividly, he recalled you opening the door, the surprise on your face, and Logan’s hand on your waist, pulling you closer. 

His heart raced as he pieced together the details. Had he really invited Isabella back to his place after everything that had unfolded? How did the night spiral in ways he never anticipated? What had felt so carefree now felt tangled and complicated. 

He shot Isabella a half hearted text saying that he enjoyed the evening too, before setting his phone down, anxiety gnawing at him. Max knew he messed up. Big time. He hadn’t just blurred the lines with Isabella; he’d torched any chance of something real with you

Taking a deep breath, he raked a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the fog. He needed to talk to you, to set everything straight. But how could he explain everything without sounding completely insane? “Hey! I slept with your coworker trying to get over the massive crush I have on you because I think you’re sleeping with Logan.” wouldn’t sit well with you at all.

He thought about going over and knocking on your door to apologize for his actions, but didn’t want to risk running into Logan again. Sending a text seemed too casual for the weight of what he wanted to say. 

But then the debate of whether or not he even should say anything crossed his mind. What if you didn’t care? What if you were happily enjoying your relationship? The thought made his stomach churn, the fear of rejection eventually winning him over. 

Spielberg, Austria

You had avoided Max in Spain and Canada, dodging him at every turn. Whether it was ducking behind a stack of tires again, or taking the long way around the paddock to avoid walking past the Energy Station, you hadn’t seen Max, and Max hadn’t seen you. 

Isabella was harder to avoid, being coworkers after all. Thankfully, she seemed to get the hint that you didn’t want to interact, minding her business and spending most of her time in Carlos’ garage. 

It was media day in Austria, and while the drivers were in their briefings and press conferences, you had made yourself comfortable in the Ferrari pit. The buzz of the paddock felt familiar and comforting, a stark contrast to the tangled emotions you had been wrestling with. 

The mechanics and engineers moved around you as you sat on your skateboard, using it to glide down the concrete to capture pit stop practice. The sounds of chatter and clanking filled the air, creating a symphony of activity that kept your mind occupied. You snapped photos of the team, capturing the precision and teamwork that made their pitstops efficient. 

As you worked, the sound of laughter caught your attention. You looked around, trying to find the culprit, but you wished you hadn’t. Max was in the Red Bull pit, surrounded by a few team members. He looked relaxed, a stark contrast to how you felt. 

Your heart raced at the sight of him, and instinct kicked in. You shifted your focus back to your camera, trying to suppress the mixed feelings inside. 

“Are you alright, tesoro?” One of the mechanics asked, causing you to jump 

 You looked up, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just a little distracted.” 

“Is Max causing you trouble?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eye

You laughed softly, trying to downplay it “You could call it that. Just stupid paddock drama” 

The mechanic nodded knowingly, a sympathetic expression on his face. “I know how it is. May I ask what happened?” 

You hesitated, weighing your options. What is spoken about in Ferrari usually stays in Ferrari. But it doesn’t help when part of the problem is also in Ferrari. 

“It’s complicated” you finally said, glancing back at Max who was too busy yapping to one of his team members to notice you staring. “We were… close, but he took someone home after Monaco that I wasn’t expecting.” 

As if on cue, Max bid goodbye to his mechanics, turning towards the Ferrari garages. Your breath caught in your throat, and you quickly looked away, focusing back on your camera. You felt a rush of anxiety wash over you. 

“He’s coming this way” the mechanic observed “Maybe he’ll come and say hi”

“Doubt it” you mumbled 

Sure enough, the driver walked straight past you and the mechanic, his pace not faltering in the slightest. He stopped in front of Carlos’ garage, a smile grew on his face as he spotted someone inside. Moments later, Isabella emerged from the garage, embracing Max in a hug. 

Your stomach twisted as you watched the scene unfold. The warmth of their interaction felt like a punch to the gut, but you couldn’t get yourself to turn away. You could feel the mechanic’s gaze shift between you and the unfolding moment, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. 

“Looks like they’re close” he said quietly, trying to gauge your reaction 

You forced a laugh, though it felt hollow “Yeah, you can say that” 

Isabella leaned in to say something to Max, his laugh rang out, carefree and easy. Jealousy couldn’t help but bubble up as you recalled his visits to your side of the garage only a season prior. The way he joked with you, the late-night run-ins in the paddock that felt so special. Now it all felt so distant, a ghost of what had been. 

“Come on, let’s get you in the car to get some different angles” the mechanic offered, noticing your shift in demeanor “I think there’s a wrench somewhere around here you can throw at him” 

Your laugh was genuine for the first time at the thought of knocking out the driver with the metal tool. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.” You said as you stood up from your skateboard.

On the other side of the Ferrari pit, Max opted to give Isabella a chance. He told himself he couldn’t spend the rest of his life waiting around for you, the uncertainty of your feelings pushed him more towards her. Late nights and quick favors between the two of you were just signs of friendship, he reasoned. 

Still, he could feel your eyes on him as he talked with Isabella, and it took everything in him not to look over. However, conversation with her felt natural, laughter coming out easily, just as it did with you. Maybe, just maybe, the void you left could be filled. 

======

The weekend continued with Max popping up randomly in Carlos’ garage. It irritated you to no extent that you couldn’t predict when he’d appear, giving yourself a taste of what everyone else felt last season. He seemed to have a knack for showing up right when you got into a groove, your focus sharp and your shots framed perfectly. 

On Saturday afternoon, you were deep in concentration, capturing the mechanics as they fine-tuned Carlos’ car, when you caught a glimpse of Max out of the corner of your eye. He leaned casually against the wall, chatting with a few of Carlos’ crew members, laughter spilling from his lips. It felt like a dagger to your gut - so effortless, so carefree. 

You clenched your jaw, trying to focus on your work. The work you shouldn’t even be doing, but Isabella was MIA. Knowing the content needed to be out sooner rather than later, you stepped in. But now, you were regretting your choices. 

With every burst of laughter from Max, your heart sank deeper. You shifted your position, framing a shot of Carlos as he animatedly discussed tire strategy, but your mind kept shifting back to Max. Why did he have to be here, looking so at ease, while you felt like you were drowning in confusion?

“Hey, are you alright?” Annalese appeared beside you, her voice cutting through your spiral of thoughts 

You forced a nod, your gaze still locked on Max “Yeah, just doing a little extra work” 

At the sound of your voice, Max’s head turned. His eyes met yours, and suddenly you felt like you were going to puke. As quick as he made eye contact, you broke it, turning back to the car in front of you. 

“Right. Just work.” Annalease said, raising an eyebrow

You sighed, your next words quieter than before “I just don’t get why he’s here” 

Confusion crossed on your boss’s face, “Who? Max?” 

“Yeah, I mean Isabella isn’t even here” you added 

“What does that have to do with anything?” She asked, genuinely puzzled 

You turned your head to look at Annalese, genuine surprise on your face. “No one told you? I thought once it hit the mechanics, they’d be telling everyone” 

You recounted the night in Monaco, just quiet enough so the Dutchman wouldn’t hear from the garage entrance. With every added detail, Annalese’s emotions switched from confusion, to anger, then finally settled on pure pity. 

“I can’t believe he just waltzed in here after that” Annalese said, her voice low, eyes narrowed at Max as he laughed again with the crew. “That’s… seriously messed up”

You nodded, feeling a weight settle in your chest. “Right? It’s like he thinks he can just pretend everything is fine, that nothing happened.” 

“People are complicated” she reminded “But that doesn’t mean he gets a free pass to show up here, especially with Isabella missing. It’s just inconsiderate” 

“I’m just trying to get this content done, then going back over to Charles’ side of the garage” you said, frustration peeking through your words “But every time I see him, I lose my focus. It’s like he’s some kind of distraction.”

“Maybe he is” Annalese muttered “But you need to take care of yourself first”

You watched as Max leaned in closer to one of the mechanics, his smile wide and disarming. “Easier said than done,” you muttered. “Every time I look at him, I remember that night. I can’t just turn that off.” 

“Then don’t” Annalese’s tone shifted, more supportive now. “Use it. Capture what you’re feeling. It could make for some powerful content.” 

“Powerful?” you asked, skepticism creeping in.

“Raw. Real. People want to see the truth behind the glitz and glam of racing. If you’re feeling something, channel that into your work.” 

Taking a deep breath, you focused on Carlos again, his passion lighting up the garage. You adjusted your lens, trying to frame the chaos, the energy, the underlying tension. Maybe if you captured that, it would help clear the fog. 

But just as you were starting to find your rhythm again, you heard Max’s voice cut through the air, directing some joke at you. His words were quickly replaced by the sound of your camera shutter, capturing the moment between the Dutchman and the Spaniard. 

You pressed the playback button, getting a look at what you just shot. The mechanics moving around the garage framed the two drivers in the photo, but what truly caught your eye was the growing tension on Max’s face with each camera click. Looking up from your camera, you could see why. 

Logan had joined Max and Carlos, his presence instantly shifting the atmosphere. Logan was usually easy going, getting along with the rest of the grid, but as he talked, you could see Max’s confident demeanor crack just a bit. It was refreshing to see the two time world champion falter, but you couldn’t understand how a rookie was the reason. 

======

To the surprise of absolutely no one, Max crossed the finish line far before anyone else. Charles and Logan followed behind, completing the podium. While you were thankful that Charles did well, you weren’t looking forward to seeing Max on the top step for the fifth race in a row. 

You trudged over to parc ferme, just as Max was pulling up the car. Thankfully, he was too busy getting out of the car and celebrating with his team to see you with Charles. Clicks of the camera filled the air as Charles got out of the car, throwing up two fingers as he walked over to you, his eyes crinkling through his helmet. 

“Congrats!” You said, moving the camera from your face, revealing a grin

“Thank you, thank you.” He replied, embracing you in a quick hug before going to congratulate the other drivers on their finishes.

You snapped a few photos of Charles talking with Logan, both guys animatedly gesturing their experiences on the track. As Charles moved to Max, Logan turned his attention to you, his smile beaming brighter than before. 

“Congrats Logan!” you practically yelled as you ran over to your friend 

He engulfed you in a bear hug, squeezing you slightly. “Thank you, y/n. I can’t believe it’s the first one” 

“First of hopefully many to come” you replied as you separated from him. “You deserve it Logan, you’ve earned it” 

You didn’t know Max was watching you as you continued your conversation with Logan. He didn’t want you to know he analyzed every inch of your face as your emotions changed. He didn’t want you to know that you had the same look on your face that you did in the hotel in Baku. He didn’t want you to know that he knew that you were in love with Logan. 

You glanced over your shoulder, checking to see if Charles was doing anything photo worthy, only to get a glimpse of Max with his team. He had his eyes on you already, the look in his eye sent a mix of confusion and annoyance through you. He shouldn’t be looking. His fling was twenty feet away in the other direction, also donning Ferrari red. 

Thankfully, the three drivers were forced through the post race interviews and to the cooldown room before you snapped on Max for staring. You found yourself a spot under the podium, perfect for capturing photos of your two friends as they celebrated. Isabella squeezed in to your left, a lovestruck smile on her face. 

“Good race, wasn’t it?” you spoke, trying to be as friendly as you could

She nodded enthusiastically, impatiently waiting for the Dutchman to come out. “Absolutely! I mean he just dominated out there!” 

You nodded, unsure of what to say in response. Annalese was to your right, giving you someone else to talk to as you waited. The two of you chatted for a bit until you lifted your camera again, getting shots of Logan and Charles as they walked out.

Letting Isabella stand next to you was a bad idea. The second Max walked out, his eyes were glued in your direction. You knew he was looking at her. There was no doubt about that. But for him to get all smiley and crinkly eyed while looking near you? It made you sick. 

“Can they just play the damn song and move on?” You muttered to Annalese, causing her to burst out in laughter during the trophy presentation. 

“You’ll be back in your hotel soon, don’t worry” Annalese reassured

Marina Bay, Singapore

It was no secret that Carlos was having a hell of a weekend. He already topped the free practice sessions, and took pole position, which sent excitement rippling through the Ferrari garage. The energy in the air was palpable with hope and anticipation as the team prepared for the race. 

So far, most of your weekend was spent running back and forth between the two red terminals, much to your dismay. Coming into the weekend, you were under the impression you would only be with Charles, but a certain brunette went missing for randomly long periods of time yet again. 

“Have you seen Isabella?” Annalese asked as she walked into Carlos’ garage

“If I did, do you think I’d be here?” You retorted, not breaking your concentration on the shot you lined up. Carlos was in deep conversation with his engineers, the intensity of the moment reflected in his face. 

You didn’t have to look to know Annalese rolled her eyes “Fair point. Do you know where she’s been? This is the third time today.” 

“My money is Red Bull” you answered “Y’know, with the two of them sucking each other’s faces off for the past few months.” 

Annalese chuckled, shaking her head “I did not need that image in my head. But she needs to get her act together. I can’t have one of my photographers slacking and spending time in a rival garage.” 

“Tell that to her, not me” you muttered, turning your attention back to Carlos, who was now finishing up with his team. 

“Yeah, you’re at least quick with your trips down to Williams” 

Once again, you tore your focus from your camera to focus on your boss. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in her words. “What do you mean? I’m rarely down there.” 

It was Annalese’s turn to be confused “Oh I thought with you and Logan-.”

“What? Oh no. Logan and I aren’t - we’re just good friends” you clarified 

“Oh, my bad. I’ve seen you and Logan together a lot recently. I thought something was starting” Annalese apologized. 

“You’re all good. But after everything with Max, I think I’ve sworn off liking drivers” you said “They’re too much for me.” 

“Fair enough” Annalese replied, her tone turning more serious as she watched Carlos. “Just keep an eye on Isabella. If she’s going to be absent, I need to know so I can plan accordingly. Carlos’ photos aren’t your responsibility.” 

“Yeah, I’ll keep an eye out for her” you said

As the sunset in the sky and the race drew nearer, the energy in both of the Ferrari garages grew. You were in Charles’ garage, capturing the last moments before the cars went out on track. Just as you were about to make your way out to the track, you noticed Isabella finally striding in, a flustered look on her face. 

“Look what the cat dragged in” you called, getting Isabella’s attention. “Where have you been?” 

“Long story, but I got some great shots in the Red Bull garage” she replied, slightly out of breath and a sheepish grin forming on her face. 

It took every bone in your body not to storm down to the Red Bull garages and give Max a piece of your mind then and there. Instead, you pushed the thoughts to the back of your mind. There was a job to be done. 

You exchanged a look with Annalese, who raised an eyebrow. “Alright, just don’t let it happen again.” she said “We need all hands on deck everyday.” 

“Trust me, it won’t.” Isabella assured, her tone more serious now. “I won’t get distracted again”

Isabella made her way to the back of the garage, presumably to change out her SD cards. As you watched, you couldn’t help but wonder what caused the sudden shift. And you wouldn’t be surprised if Max was somehow linked to it. 

======

As everyone hoped, Carlos ended up on the top step of the podium, completing his weekend sweep. Everyone in red was on cloud nine, and for the first time since Azerbaijan, you didn’t hear your country’s national anthem.  

The celebrations in the paddock were long done for the day as you made your way out of the Ferrari motorhome. You didn’t wrap up until late into the night, so you were expecting to be the only one still left, but to your surprise, a familiar Dutchman was also still around. 

You don’t know if it was the amount of champagne you accidentally ingested during the celebrations, or if it was Isabella’s actions earlier, but something within you caused you to speak. 

“Fancy seeing you here” you said, trying to keep your tone light despite the swirl of emotions inside you. Max was leaning against the wall of the Energy Station, a bottle of water in hand, looking at something on his phone. 

He glanced up, surprise flashing across his face for a second before returning to his normal indifferent stare. “Hey. Congrats on the win”

Your eyebrows furrowed in fake confusion as you stopped next to him “What did I win? I just took photos” 

“You know what I mean” Max mumbled, rolling his eyes, though a small smirk formed on his lips “But Carlos looked really strong, he deserved the win, and the celebration.” 

“Oh he’s getting every bit of celebration he can. I can’t count how many times I’ve heard Smooth Operator today” you chuckled, the memory of the Spaniard dancing to the music replaying in your head. 

Awkward tension hung in the air, neither of you sure what to say next. You looked around the dim paddock, for any idea of a talking point. It wasn’t until you noticed the darkness in the Energy Station that you spoke again. “What’re you even still doing here?” 

“Just unwinding after a long day. Needed the extra time to get out. You know how exhausting this track is” he explained, but by the way he was fiddling with his bottle and refusing to make eye contact, you knew he wasn’t telling the truth. 

Your eyes narrowed as you made eye contact with him, a swirl of suspicion and hurt forming in your chest. “You’re waiting for Isabella aren’t you?” 

Max paused, his gaze darting away for a moment before meeting your eyes again “I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m specifically waiting for her,” he said, but the slight hesitation in his voice gave it away.

“You know I’m not as dumb as I look, right?” you asked, a small smile forced onto your lips “I know you two are together. I’m happy for you, you deserve it” Your stomach churned as you spoke. Each word felt like a knife twisting deeper, but you couldn’t let him see how much it hurt.

Max’s expression shifted,  gratitude and relief mingling in his eyes, only deeping the pain. “Thanks. It’s nice to hear that” 

“But you better not steal her from Ferrari any more, Annalese might have your head on a spike” you joked, but a warning tone lingered underneath. Max chuckled slightly, but the tension in his shoulders remained. 

“Well she’s an adult, she can make her own decisions” Max shrugged, a hint of definane in his tone, seemingly indifferent to the fact that she only has access to the paddock because of her job. 

You crossed your arms as you spoke. “An adult who is employed. She needs to do her job” you countered, your voice firm yet wavering slightly, desperate for him to understand the reality of the situation.

“Oh like you do your job all the time” Max shot back, rolling his eyes with a smirk that felt more like a jab “I’ve seen you running around a lot with Logan. Seems like you have a type.”  

Your heart raced, confusion mixing with anger, “Max, what are you talking abou-”

“Don’t play dumb” he interrupted, his expression hardening as the tension grew dramatically “Everyone sees how you act around him.”

You felt your cheeks flush at his words, a mix of embarrassment and irritation flooding through you. “I’m not playing dumb” you shot back, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Logan and I are friends. It’s not my fault he’s actually nice to be around” 

“Nice, huh?” Max raised an eyebrow, though his eyes were red with anger “He’s giving you something nice, for sure” 

“Are you serious?” you asked, exasperated “You’re really going to stand there and accuse me of sleeping with one of my best friends?” 

“I’m not accusing you of anything” he replied, an indifferent mask suddenly plastered on his face, a clear facade that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m just saying you get close to drivers in a way that makes people talk.” 

“And it’s just that, Max. It’s just talk. The same stupid rumors that were flown around when you and I were close friends. The same stupid rumors that meant absolutely nothing, because it was just nothing.” you bit back, your voice rising in frustration.

“So you’re saying it’s still nothing?” Max challenged, his tone sharp “You really thought people wouldn’t notice just how cozy you and Logan are? You’re not fooling anyone.” 

“Maybe I don’t need to fool anyone” you snapped, pure adrenaline fueling your words “Maybe I’m more comfortable in my friendships with drivers than you are in your relationship with a Ferrari photographer who happens to look like me.” 

Max’s expression darkened at your words, a mix of anger and hurt flashing across his face. “That’s low,” he said quietly, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

“Weird, isn’t it? Facing the truth” you said, your voice steadier than you felt, trying to anchor yourself amongst the rising tension.

You took a step away from Max, and then another. The space between you felt charged, like a wire ready to snap. You didn’t want to back down, but your words lingered, creating a chasm between you.

Max’s eyes darted around your face, looking for any signs of an emotion other than anger, only stopping when he saw your lips. He wanted nothing more than to pull you in and kiss you. He wanted to tell you that you were all that he wanted, and no one could ever come close.

But he couldn’t. He was waiting for Isabella. 

And you almost wanted it too. You almost wanted him to tell you Isabella meant nothing. That it was all just some silly plan to try and get over you. You almost wanted him to confess he had been madly in love with you since you first reconnected last year. 

But he wouldn’t. He was waiting for Isabella. 

So, you turned any longing you had left into anger. Your fists clenched, dying to take a swing at the man in front of you. You wanted to show just how much pain he caused you through his actions, through his words. 

But you shouldn’t. You would lose your job if you did. 

And so, you walked away. You unclenched your fist, and walked away. Each step echoed the unresolved mess. The night air was cool against your skin, but inside, there was a mixture of liberation and lingering frustration. Though you said what needed to be said, the ache of unspoken feelings still hung in the air, heavy in your chest as you left him behind. 

Austin, USA

The events of the Japan and Qatar Grand Prixs were nearly identical: Charles qualifying within the top five, having a strong start, a poor strategy messing up his race, and hearing the Dutch National Anthem in the distance. It didn’t help that to top it all off, Red Bull had secured the Constructors Championship and Max had secured the Driver’s Championship with ease. The team needed a morale booster, and Austin was the place to try and do it. 

“I feel absolutely ridiculous” you said as you stood in the paddock entrance, waiting to capture Charles’ arrival for media day. 

He had convinced you to go all out with him and dress up for media day. Your hair was folded into two braids, and a cowboy hat rested on your head. A red bandana was tied around your neck, matching the bright red Ferrari polo that was hiding under your jean jacket. You glanced at yourself in the reflection of a nearby window, half-amused and half-embarrassed. 

“What’re you talking about? You look amazing” Annalese teased “You fit in with the locals” 

Your eyes scanned the area, only to find absolutely no one dressed like you. “Yeah, because the locals are dressed like a walking cliche” you muttered 

“Okay you don’t look that ridiculous” she said “Plus, Charles definitely needs the boost” 

As if on cue, you heard the beep of a paddock pass being scanned. Looking to the gates, Charles was walking through the turnstiles, donning a black cowboy hat, black bandana, and dark blue jean jacket. 

“There’s my partner in crime!” He called as you captured a few photos of him walking up to you, a goofy grin plastered on his face. “You look amazing” 

“Thanks” you replied, slight embarrassment still in your voice “I do feel a bit silly”

“At least you’re not the one in front of the camera” Charles chuckled.

Annalese and yourself walked with Charles down the paddock towards the media areas. To no surprise, all eyes were on the driver as he walked with such confidence. Fans and staff alike had their attention on Charles. Thankfully, any worry about looking ridiculous washed away as the three of you joked your way through the paddock. 

After a quick stop in the Ferrari motorhome, the three of you finally made it to the media pen. A few of the other drivers were already there, including the Alpine boys, and Max. For it being early in the morning, the atmosphere was lively, as reporters were prepping their questions. 

You and Annalese hung towards the back of the pen, being sure not to get in any of the drivers' ways as they approached the barriers. As Charles and Max talked to the media, you watched intently, each of the boys differed with how they answered the long list of questions. 

Charles, as always, had an easygoing charm, answering each question with a relaxed but thoughtful demeanor. He was clearly comfortable in the media spotlight, using humor to deflect some of the tougher questions while staying focused on the bigger picture for Ferrari. 

Across the pen was Max, who was standing a little more rigidly, with his arms crossed, answering questions with that signature confidence that was almost always tinged with a bit of confidence. Even though both championships were already on lock, there was no sign of complacency in his posture. 

A reporter threw him a question about the team’s performance, and Max’s response was sharp and succinct. “We’ve done what we’ve needed to do this season. It’s been a solid year, and I’m happy with the results. But we’re always looking to improve, even when things are going well.” 

His tone was calm, but there was an underlying intensity that you knew too well. Sure, you had heard it time and time again in his interviews, but it was also the same intensity you heard in Singapore. It was the same bitterness and anger that was bubbling under the surface. 

Max knew you were mere feet behind him. He knew you could hear every single word he was saying. He knew you dressed in that stupid little cowgirl outfit so Charles wouldn’t be the only one in the paddock looking ridiculous, but god did you pull it off. 

As his interview wrapped up, you saw how Max’s eyes flickered danced around the room scanning it before landing on you. There was a slight glint in his eyes, almost telling that he was aware of everything - the outfit, the mood, the tension, and maybe even the unspoken distance between you two. And when his gaze met yours, the glint disappeared. There was no warmth, no acknowledgement - just a cold, unreadable look. 

You shifted your feet, suddenly very aware of the hat perched on your head and the bandana around your neck. You’d done this for Charles. Just for Charles. 

“Everything alright?” Annalese asked, noticing your stiff posture. You hadn’t realized you’d tensed up until she spoke. 

“Yeah, just Max is… being Max.” You didn’t elaborate. There wasn’t much else to say. 

Max was always intense with the media, but today it felt like something else - something deeper than just the team. Maybe it was the contrast between his icy exterior and the warmth of Charles, or maybe it was his sheer competitiveness, which never seemed to wane. But it felt almost like he was throwing down a silent challenge.

Annalese raised an eyebrow, “Max still has a way of making everything seem personal, huh?” 

“Yeah” you couldn’t seem to hide the bitterness in your voice. Personal wasn’t the word you would have chosen, but it was close enough. The fact that he could unsettle you with a glance, that he could turn something as simple as an interview into a moment of quiet conflict, was maddening. 

But you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Charles was finishing up his own interview now, his easygoing smile still in place, though you could see the familiar exhaustion behind it. When you first started with the team, you would be shocked at how tired he got after each interview. But now that you’ve been here for a while, you couldn’t go a day without seeing it. 

“Ready to get out of here?” Charles asked, walking over with a lighthearted air, completely oblivious to the tension that seemed to hang around. 

“Absolutely” you gave him a quick smile, happy to leave the heavy atmosphere of the media pen behind. But even as you turned to walk with him, a part of you lingered on Max’s last words. We’re always looking to improve, even when things are going well.

======

You honestly weren’t sure how it happened. You were minding your business in the Ferrari motorhome, editing your content from media day when Annalese approached you, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She knew something you didn’t, and you were about to find out, whether you liked it or not. 

“Hey, you free for a second?” she asked, leaning against a doorframe, arms crossed, the usual casual confidence about her. 

You looked up from your laptop, blinking a few times as you tried to piece together whether she was being serious or just teasing. “Sure, what’s up?” 

She raised an eyebrow, then glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one else was nearby. “So, you’re familiar with Drive to Survive, right?” 

“The Netflix show? Yeah. What about it?” you asked, sitting up a little bit more. 

Annalese smirked “Well, they’re filming the weekend in Austin. They’ve been bouncing around the teams trying to get some sort of exciting story line.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused as to what she was getting at “What does that have to do with me?” 

“After talking with a few of us, they learned you do a lot of behind the scenes footage and are good friends with a handful of the guys” she explained “And they were wondering if you’d be willing to be followed around and interviewed for a bit. 

You blinked a few times, trying to process what Annalese was saying. “They want me to be on camera?” 

She gave you a knowing look, her smirk widening. “Yep. They’re apparently looking for someone with your kind of insight - someone who isn’t just a part of the circus but actually gets the day-to-day stuff. And since you’re always with the drivers and the team, it seemed like a good fit. Plus your following is going to help boost their viewers.” 

“And you think this is a good idea?” you asked cautiously, trying to get a read on her expression. “What if it all blows up in my face? Or what if it messes up my work?” 

Annalese leaned forward slightly, her expression softening, more earnest now. “Look, I get it. It’s a lot. But think about it. You know I wouldn’t push you into something if I didn’t think you could handle it.” 

You hesitated for a long moment, lingering on Annalese’s words. Finally, you let out a deep sigh. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it. But if this all goes to hell, I’m blaming you.” 

And that’s how you found yourself sitting in a room in the bowels of the paddock, away from the normal hustle and bustle of the morning of qualifying. You were the only one in a team’s gear, everyone else around you had their clothes embroidered with Netflix, leaving you to be the odd one out. 

The lights were bright, and the crew around you looked more prepared for a Hollywood film than a race weekend in Austin. One of the producers had mic’d you up, and was sitting on the other side of the camera from you. 

“Okay, y/n. Just state your name, and your role with the team please” She said, a warm smile on her face 

“Should I look at you, or look at the camera when I talk?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing

“Looking at me is perfectly fine” She answered 

You nodded, shifting slightly in your seat to try and relax, though the sensation of being under the spotlight was unmistakable. This was real. You were being filmed. There was no turning back now. 

Taking a deep breath, your eyes locked on the producer. “I’m y/n l/n, and I’m a photographer and content creator for Scuderia Ferrari. I also do personal content creation on the side.” 

The producer gave you a quick thumbs up, and gestured for you to keep going. “Great! Now, just tell us a little bit about your role in the paddock and what a typical weekend looks like for you.” 

You thought for a moment before speaking. You walked the producer through your day to day life as best as you could, as no weekend was truly the same. Being a team player and focusing on getting the best shots rolled off your tongue. The more you talked, the more relaxed you got. 

The producer seemed to notice, as her smile grew a bit bigger. “Sounds like you’ve got a good handle on it. So, you’re clearly around the drivers a lot. What’s your relationship like with them?” 

You couldn’t help but glance at the camera, knowing it would probably capture the slight shift in your expression. Talking about the drivers was… complicated. Max especially. He was still fresh in your mind, after everything that’s happened over the course of the last season and a half. You could feel the familiar unease bubble up, but you kept your tone even. 

“Well, I’m lucky enough to work with a few of them closely. Obviously, I spend a lot of time with Charles and Carlos. Charles especially out of the two - he’s always easy to talk to, a real pro, and I think we’ve got a good understanding of how to work together. I’m not in Carlos’ garage as much, but every time I’ve been with him or working with him, he’s been lovely. Both of the guys are real team players.” 

The interview continued as you talked about the highs and lows of Formula 1. You rambled about the trials and tribulations of your job, but how they’re all worth it in the long run. The producer asked a little bit about your own personal content creation, and how you’ve been able to get an audience of girls interested and involved in motorsports. 

The producer then glanced toward the camera crew, signaling that she was ready for the next phase of filming. “Alright, y/n, you’re doing great. We’re going to switch gears now and get a bit more personal. Is that alright?” 

You nodded, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed your mind. Personal? What did she mean by that? 

“Of course, what do you need?” you asked, trying to sound relaxed. 

The producer tilted her head thoughtfully. “We’ve heard some rumors - nothing too crazy - but we’d love to get your thoughts on what it’s like to be close to the drivers, especially in such a high-stakes environment. How do you manage those relationships?”

A little caught off guard, you instinctively glanced toward the camera before responding, your voice a bit steadier than you felt inside. “I think it’s a balancing act. You want to remain professional, but at the same time, you’re still human. You get to know these guys, you become part of their routine. You seem them under pressure, stressed out, and sometimes you’re right there in the middle of it all.” You paused, letting your thoughts settle. “The pressure can definitely build up. But that’s why it’s important to have boundaries. They’re still my friends, but I’ve got to keep that line between being a colleague and a friend.” 

The producer’s eyes glinted, clearly recognizing the deeper meaning in your words. “Sounds like there’s a lot of emotional juggling involved. Does any of it change when you factor in your relationship with Max?” 

The question hung in the air like a weight, and you immediately felt your stomach tighten. The last thing you wanted to do was delve into anything personal about Max. It had been a complicated relationship - sometimes friendly, sometimes strained. Right now, you weren’t even sure if you had a relationship with the man. The last thing you wanted was to make it seem like there was anything more there than what everyone already saw on the surface.

You took a deep breath, hoping to keep your composure. “Max… well, Max is an interesting case. He’s always been intense. He’s been that way since grade school. Everything’s always full throttle, all the time - whether it’s racing or his personal life. That kind of energy, that drive, it’s both impressive and a little exhausting. But that’s Max. And I get it, I do. I respect it, even if it’s a bit much at times.” 

Part of you knew you had to put on a facade while talking about Max. The world couldn’t know the shitshow that was truly hiding behind the scenes. But the other part of you didn’t need to fake it. Even though you wanted to kick Max into the next dimension, you still had such a respect for him.  

The producer jotted down a few notes, clearly intrigued. A smirk then danced on her face as he looked up from her paper, and you knew you were in for something. 

“Is it harder to separate the personal and professional sides of your relationship with Max, especially with the public watching?” 

Your heart skipped a beat at the question. It felt like the room had just gotten a little bit smaller. The public always wanted something - something they could latch onto, something they could analyze - and Max and yourself were prime targets. The last thing you wanted was to give them any more ammunition. 

“I mean there’s definitely noise from the outside - fans, media - everyone has an opinion. And sometimes it’s hard not to let that affect you. So I don’t think it’s harder to separate it with Max, but rather different. With him now being a three time World Champion and to know him so long, it always feels like the whole world is watching every interaction. But at the end of the day, he’s still a Formula 1 driver, and I’m still a photographer. Everyone here is just someone doing their job, and no matter how much the world watches, I have to only focus on what I can control.” 

The smirk on the producer’s lips turned into a genuine smile, clearly satisfied with your response. However, her eyes flickered with something else - a sense of realization. She jotted down another note and nodded thoughtfully. 

“Alright, I think that gives us a solid idea of where things stand. We’ll be capturing some more dynamics in the paddock, but I really appreciate your openness today, y/n. You handled the interview like a pro. We’ll catch up with you later today and tomorrow to film a bit of you in action.”

You exhaled slowly, glad the conversation had taken a turn away from the more personal aspects. As much as you valued your relationships with all of the drivers, it wasn’t something you were keen on oversharing, especially not in front of the cameras, and especially not about Max. 

As you left the room, you felt a slight sense of relief washed over you. The interview was over. The questions had been answered. But something about that last exchange - about Max - lingered in the back of your mind. You weren’t sure if you managed to keep the mask in place completely, but you hoped the world would see it as nothing more than professional boundaries being drawn, not an ongoing emotional tug-of-war. 

Doubts quickly swirled in your mind as you walked. Were the boundaries that you set good enough? Was it a mistake to even mention them? Why did everything always have to come back to Max? 

There was only one person in the paddock that could soothe your uncertainties. Only one person who knew exactly what to say to make you feel at least a bit better. You made a quick detour past the Ferrari motorhome, your eyes scanning for a certain driver in blue. When you caught sight of him, you darted towards him. 

“I’m not taking advantage of you, am I?” 

Logan’s head whipped around when he heard your voice, confusion plastered on his face. He blinked, clearly taken aback by your sudden appearance and the directness of your question. For a moment, he stood frozen, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what you’d just said. 

“Wait, what?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and concern. “What’re you talking about?” 

You ran a hand through your hair, wanting to explain yourself without sounding like a total mess. “I just - look. I just finished that interview, and they asked me some stuff about Max, and now I’m spiraling a bit. It’s complicated… you know? The whole thing. And there’s this weird pressure, like I’m walking a fine line, and I’m not sure if I’m doing it right. So I-” 

Logan placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile that calmed you more than you’d like to admit. “You’re not making any sense, but I’m guessing you’re worried what people are going to think, and that Max is going to go ape shit on you again, right?” he said softly, his tone light, but understanding. 

You exhaled deeply, “Yeah. I- they asked about Max and I wasn’t prepared for it, and it’s just hard to explain anything without it sounding more personal than it is. I don’t want to give the impression that there’s anything more between us, especially with him and Isabella being a thing or whatever.”

Logan’s expression softened. “Y/n. We both know how the media can twist things, especially with a guy like Max, but I can guarantee you’re not doing anything to give the idea that there’s more than just two people doing their jobs. You’re doing a better job at keeping everything with him private than most.” he said, his voice almost hinting at something.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, confusion now filtering in your tone

“You mean you didn’t see what she posted earlier?” Logan asked, slightly amused 

“Logan, I was just in a dark room getting interrogated for forty minutes. I haven’t seen anything.” you reminded him.

He pulled out his phone, tapping on Instagram and finding Isabella's profile. A few months ago, he had mentioned she followed him almost immediately after meeting him in Bahrain. He eventually turned the screen toward you, where a photo of Isabella chatting with Sophie and Jos was posted on her story. 

“No way” you finally got out, disbelief dripped in your words. “Catching up with the best!” you read off of the screen.

“Yep. She’s really not shy about it.” Logan replied

Your fingers rubbed against your forehead, trying to process everything that was going on. “I swear she never ceases to amaze me.” 

“Right?” he agreed, glancing at his phone once again to check the time. “I’m so sorry but I need to get to the garage before qualifying starts” 

You nodded, knowing damn well you should have been in yours about five minutes ago. “All good. I’ll see you around.”

“Oh we'll be texting each other the second the session is done” he chuckled, though you knew he wasn’t kidding “If you ever need to vent, let me know. You know where to find me.” 

With one final hug, Logan turned back towards the paddock, making his way to Williams. You watched him go for a moment, feeling strangely grounded, before you continued on your way. 

And Logan was right. When qualifying ended, his name was the first one to pop up on your phone. 

Monte Carlo, Monaco

The triple header in the Americas could not have gone any worse for Charles. A P3 finish fell between a disqualification and failing to start, but it didn’t come without damage to the car. It was safe to say that Ferrari, along with a few of the other drivers, welcomed the short break before going to Las Vegas. 

Thankfully, you hadn’t run into Max and Isabella during the time off. According to her social media, they had also flown back to Monaco for a bit, before they jetted off to Spain. That was fine by you, the further away, the lower the chance for you to see them. 

Yourself, along with Logan, Oscar, Alex, Pierre, Alexandra and Kika were in Charles and Alexandra’s apartment. The eight of you often found yourselves there, with most of you living in Monaco already, and Logan and Oscar happy to make the short flight from the UK. Multiple bottles of various alcohols had already been cracked open, and the remnants of beer cans were scattered around. 

Charles and Alexandra had made themselves comfortable on their couch, with Alexandra’s hand placed gently on her boyfriend’s thigh. Pierre and Kika were on the loveseat, with Kika playfully tossing her empty seltzer can at Pierre, the aluminum hitting him square in the face. Oscar and Alex were in the kitchen, trying to find another bottle of something to open. 

Too many drinks later, you found yourself sitting on the floor, tucked against Logan. The arm that didn’t have a bottle of Corona attached to it was lazily draped over your shoulder while you were nursing the bottom of a seltzer can. You weren’t entirely sure how it happened, but at some point in the evening you had ended up close to him, his side pressed against yours as you both lounged on the floor in the middle of the action. 

Logan’s fingers traced the fabric of your shirt as he tilted his head back, watching the others with a half-smile. For the first time in a long time, everything felt…easy. You could feel the weight of everything that had been building up in your mind, the endless questions about boundaries and relationships, the complexities of being so close to this world, and yet trying to stay on the sidelines. For the first time in a while, you weren’t worrying about any of it. 

“Are you trying to hypnotize me with your fingers, or is that just how you relax?” you asked lightly, breaking the quiet tension.

Logan’s eyes flicked down to you, and for a split second, you could see the amusement in his gaze before he shrugged, a lazy smile pulling at his lips. “Maybe both” he teased, his thumb moving slightly to catch a stray lock of your hair that had fallen into your face. “Is it working?”

You rolled your eyes, but the soft blush creeping up your neck betrayed you. “I don’t know about hypnotizing, but it’s definitely… distracting” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. 

Logan chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and leaned back slightly, pulling you closer without a second thought. His body was warm next to yours, his presence now inescapable as his arm tightened slightly around you. “I’ll take that as a compliment” he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of something else - something unspoken, something that lingered between you in the air, neither of you quite acknowledging it fully. 

From across the room, you could hear Oscar and Alex laughing about something in the kitchen, their voices rising above the clinking of glass and the low chatter. Pierre and Kika were now in the middle of an exaggerated argument over who ate the last potato chip in the bag. Charles and Alexandra were in hushed conversation as their eyes glanced at the movie playing on the TV. 

You knew Logan. Knew the easygoing confidence that he wore like a second skin. And still, there was something different about the way he was acting tonight Something that made you feel a little unsure. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the other way around. Perhaps it wasn’t him that had changed, but you, starting to notice the things you’d pushed aside for far too long. 

Logan’s chuckle seemed to vibrate through you, warm and low, a sound you could feel more than hear. His voice broke the calm tension again, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’re being quiet now. That’s not like you.” 

You shifted a little, suddenly aware of the limited space between you, of how easy it was to let the moment carry on. “Just thinking” you muttered, trying to keep the conversation light, to keep things from tipping into something more serious. 

“About what?” His voice was softer now, more curious than teasing. He didn’t let his arm move away from your shoulder, not yet, like it was the easiest thing in the world to have you close. 

You hesitated. You could feel the question pushing down on you, the debate of how much of your inner world you were willing to share right now. Was it too soon? Or was it that Logan, of all people, made it easier to be honest than you’d ever let yourself be?

“It’s just…” you sighed, running a hand through your hair, feeling slightly embarrassed for not letting go of everything, like you usually would when it came to Max. But maybe that was the problem. You weren’t with Max right now. “I’m not sure anymore… where I stand with all of this. With… well, everything”

Logan paid close attention, his usual relaxed demeanor replaced with something more attuned, more patient. His gaze was softer than it had been before. “You mean with Max? And everything that’s been happening with him and Isabella?”

You nodded, your eyes fixed on the can in your hands, unwilling to meet his gaze just yet. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m caught in the middle of something I never asked to be a part of.” you admitted 

Logan didn’t say anything at first, just watched you quietly, but you could see the gears turning behind his eyes. His thumb brushed against your skin again, the contact reassuring, grounding. “You’re not caught in the middle. You just care too much about things that aren’t yours to fix.” His tone was gentle, but there was something firm underneath it, like he was trying to make sure you understood. “You don’t have to be the one who sorts everything out. Sometimes things just… unfold on their own.”

You glanced up at him then, unsure of what you were expecting, but the steadiness of his gaze made you feel lighter somehow. Like maybe he had a point. 

The sound of glass clanking and a chorus of yells brought you back to reality. You and Logan were the only ones left in the living room, as the other four joined Oscar and Alex in the kitchen. 

“I feel like we should go check that out,” you said, standing up from the floor.

Logan agreed, and the two of you made your way into the kitchen. When you stepped inside, the scene in front of you was just as chaotic as you expected. Oscar was holding up a bottle of tequila triumphantly, while Alex and Pierre were in the midst of arguing about if the liquor was “actually drinkable”. Charles was going through his cabinets, trying to find something as Kika and Alexandra were to the side, laughing as they shook their heads. 

You approached the counter, with Logan following suit. As you rested yourself against the cool granite, you felt the warmth of Logan’s body against your back and one of his hands resting on your waist. Kika and Alexandra exchanged glances before raising their eyebrows at you. In response, you shrugged, not wanting to draw any more attention to the driver that was glued to you. 

However, the girls would not let it go. As Logan got wrapped up in the boy’s shenanigans, Kika and Alexandra pulled you into one of the guest rooms. 

“What is going on?” Kika asked, a drunken giggle coming out of her mouth. 

You blinked as the door clicked shut behind you, a momentary wave of confusion sweeping over you. The two girls were leaning against the wall, Kika trying to look serious, but her grin betraying her, while Alexandra simply raised an eyebrow in a knowing way.

“Honestly, I-” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You weren’t exactly sure what you should be saying. It wasn’t like anything happened with Logan - well not yet, anyway - but it felt like there was this subtle undercurrent between you that both Kika and Alexandra were so clearly picking up on. 

“Don’t even try to play innocent” Kika giggled, her voice slurring just a little from the drinks she’d had, but her eyes were sharp. “We’ve been watching you two all night.” 

You glanced at Alexandra, whose arms were crossed but a soft smirk tugged at her lips. “I don’t know what you mean.” you said, though you could feel your face heating up. 

Alexandra wasn’t buying it “Uh-huh. You’re both acting like it’s just another casual hangout, but since when do you two sit that close?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but Kika cut you off with a playful wave of her hand “Don’t try to play the ‘I don’t know’ card. We’re not blind.” She paused, her eyes narrowing with a mischievous twinkle. “So… what’s the deal? Something’s happening isn’t it?” 

Your stomach twisted slightly at the question. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest a little harder now. Of course, it wasn’t just the alcohol that had made everything feel easier tonight - it was Logan, too. But did that mean anything?

“Nothing’s happened.” you said carefully “We’ve just been hanging out. That’s it”

“Yeah right” Alexandra said, her smirk widening. “You know, you could tell us the truth. You two are practically glued together.”

“It’s just easy with him” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “There’s no…pressure, you know? It just feels like… like it should be this way.”

Kika tilted her head, her expression more thoughtful now, her drunk giggles gone for the moment. “So you are into him?” 

You felt your face heat up again. It wasn’t exactly the word you’d use for it, but it seemed like the only way to answer. “I don’t know, honestly. But I guess there’s something about him that’s… different. Makes everything feel easy.” you ran a hand through your hair nervously. “But I’m just not sure where I stand with everything else right now.” 

Alexandra stepped forward, her expression shifted to something more serious. “I get it. You’re trying to figure out if what you’re feeling is real, or if it’s just the situation.” She paused, her gaze soft but intense “You deserve to explore this with him, without holding back. You’ve been in that… other situation with Max for so long, but maybe it’s time to let someone else in.” 

At the mention of his name, you froze. You were instantly transported back to Singapore, that night in the paddock. Seems like you have a type. 

“Don’t you think I’m jumping into something too soon?” you mumbled, suddenly becoming well aware of your hands and the way they fidgeted.

Kika caught your eye, and her expression softened “No one’s saying you need to rush into anything, but it’s okay to let yourself breathe. You’ve been wrapped up in that for too long.” She said, the words shared an understanding. Like they were burdens you were trying to carry, but time to let go of. 

Alexandra leaned in a little, her voice softer now. “Sometimes moments happen when you’re not trying to force them. Just let yourself see where it goes. With him.” 

Barcelona, Spain

The cool Barcelona air hit Max as soon as he made his way out to the balcony of his hotel room. It was a welcome change from the stuffy, heated atmosphere inside, the weight of the day lifting as the wind brushed past his face. The city lights flickered beneath him, painting the streets below with the soft glow of late-night life. 

Isabella had already gone to bed. She had been with him all evening, talking, her hand resting casually on his arm, full attention on him. She had been sweet, supportive, asking how his day went, listening attentively to his thoughts. But despite her presence, despite the affection she had shown, Max felt… disconnected. His interactions with her were starting to feel more like a routine more than anything real. Like he had fallen into a rhythm that wasn’t his own. 

Max wasn’t a stranger to the demands of his relationship. He’d always known Isabella liked to be close, ever since she started popping up in the Red Bull garage, looking for him. But tonight, something about it felt stifling. The worst part was that he didn’t know why. She was everything he had once wanted in a partner - supportive, loyal, there when he needed her. And yet, he stood alone on the balcony in the middle of the night, all he felt was nothing. 

Leaning against the railing, he exhaled a long breath, watching the way the lights of the city seemed to pulse and breathe along with him. But even as the quiet of the night settled in, there was a different kind of noise inside his head. It wasn’t just about Isabella, but about you. The way things had ended in Singapore - the words he had said, the way you had walked away. 

He pulled his phone from his pocket. Max wasn’t sure what he was hoping for anymore, but his thumb tapped through his apps, aimlessly landing on Instagram. 

His mind flashed back to Singapore again. The heat of the moment, the exchange of glances, the accusations that had been thrown with no proof. Then that moment when you walked away. 

Max knew that wasn’t how he wanted things to end. Far from it. He wasn’t good with emotions, he never had been, especially when it came to you. But that wasn’t an excuse. He hadn’t been fair to you. 

He scrolled through his feed absently, his thumb moving without purpose, until he saw a recent post. It was a photo of you - captured in a candid moment, a shot from Brazil. You were laughing with some of the Ferrari mechanics, and even from a distance, the warmth of your eyes was unmistakable. 

It was stupid, he knew. But just seeing it made him ache. He hadn’t meant to go this far. He hadn’t planned on checking up on you. But the post was like a pull - a reminder of something he didn’t want to forget. 

Max tapped the photo, noticing an account was tagged. y/nl/n.jpeg. He knew Lando and Daniel had accounts with similar names, so he tapped. A small part of him almost hoped he wouldn’t find anything. That somehow it would lead to a dead end. But instead, your profile opened in front of him, fun and captivating, just like you. 

The profile picture was you standing on the track in Monaco, your camera in your hand, a confident smirk on your face. Max had seen that smile plenty of times before, felt its warmth, and he realized with a sharp pang in his chest that he missed it. He missed you - the way everything was so easy with you, how he didn’t need to hold anything back. 

He scrolled through the feed, quickly realizing this wasn’t the same account as your personal one. Photos from races around the world, photos that you had taken, were posted. Your face was nowhere to be found, it was only how your lens viewed the world. 

There were photos of sunsets over the racetracks, candid shots of teammates laughing in the paddock, and even pictures of fans in the stands, their faces alight with excitement. He couldn’t help but smile at how well you captured these moments. It was clear you were more than just a bystander; you were present in a way that only someone who truly understood the sport could be. 

He tapped on a picture of a sunset from Austin - one of the most stunning shots Max had ever seen of the Texas sky turning orange and purple, Charles’ car streaking across the horizon. The image was perfectly composed, the light bleeding into the asphalt, and for a moment, Max felt like he was back there, in the heart of the weekend. 

He scrolled through the carousel of photos that were attached. Most of them were of Ferrari, their crew and the cars. But as he scrolled to the last photo, he froze. It was of the RB-19, his RB-19, flying down the track. 

Max’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes fixed on the photo. It was a perfectly timed shot. His car sliced through the corners of the track, the blurred backdrop of the stand giving the image a sense of motion and speed. 

You had taken this photo.

Curiosity piqued as he swiped out of the carousel he was looking at, quickly tapping on another shortly after. He paid little attention to the first handful of photos, but at the end, was a photo of him on the podium in Belgium, drenched in sweat and champagne from the celebrations. 

Max moved onto another carousel. This time, photos from Miami in 2022. Sure enough, at the very end, was a photo of him and Charles embracing each other after the on track battle. 

With every post Max had looked at, there was always a photo of him mixed in somehow. Whether he was in the background, or the main subject, every single post involved him. It was as though you had seen the things he hadn’t let himself feel, capturing the rawness of the moments he had tucked away. 

He managed to scroll all the way to the bottom of your profile, to the very first post you had ever made. They were all photos you had taken as a kid, most likely from the red point and shoot camera you had glued to you. And there, at the very end of the photos was a shot of a little boy Max had known too well. The same photo that had been resting in your photo album for years. The same photo of the little boy that now resided in Max’s wallet. 

That little boy needed to get you back. 

=============================

tagged: @mixedstyles

[sweetpupii]

Hi! Do you take requests?

If so, I think a fic bases on this excerpt:

"she can't have her parents walking in again. poor cassandra…finding your daughter with her whole face buried in between a girl's thighs is not the most ideal situation"

of your cailtyn story would be phenomenal 🙏

If you don't, feel free to ignore this! :)

Let's start by saying Caitlyn knows how to eat pussy and loves doing it :3 babe could have it for breakfast, lunch, dinner and even dessert. she wouldn't call herself an expert per se, but she's quite proud of her talent.

sure, receiving it feels good—but what's better than knowing you're making a girl cum with just your mouth? to cait, absolutely nothing. the moans, the hair-pulling, the thighs clenching against her head ♡ ugh chef's kiss.

( she came untouched a few times from it but you did not hear it from me ok? )

it's usually one the first things she does when you successfully sneak into her room. like a reward for getting through massive place she calls home without anyone noticing.

your back against the bed and legs immediately spread to expose the sight she absolutely adores. god, she could just stare at it forever and it'd still have the same effect in between her own legs. new panties are needed.

she doesn't dive in face-first like an animal the second your clothes are off, even if she does feel like a starved woman. she starts by slowly kissing your thighs and caressing any bit of skin she can, hand sneaking up your abdomen and ribs to massage your breasts a little—don't mind it.

“Should I continue?” cocky because she already knows the answer is a breathy ‘yes, please’.

oh and she gets way more cocky once she finally starts working on you, soft and slow stripes and twirls with her tongue. nothing fancy yet; she wants to tease a little more.

the second your hips start bucking into her mouth though? girl, grab onto something because she takes the signs IMMEDIATELY.

legs propped up on her shoulder while her hands hold your hips down to keep control of them. the slurping sounds are almost pornographic with how sloppy she's being. no whine coming from you is gonna make her stop any time soon. she's enjoying it waaaay to much already.

if she's feeling nice she will add a finger or two while sucking ๋࣭⭑ curling them just right inside you, not in-and-out like crazy. her tongue’s already lapping at you pretty fast so no need to overwhelm you…yet.

she wishes you would look down at her for a sec to see that pretty expression better, but she also understands it's her own fault that your head is thrown back against the bed, clenching around her fingers while pulling at her hair. what a curse to be so good at pleasing girls.

she knew speeding up her movements wasn't a smart thing to do so late at night as soon as the loud whine that escaped your lips reached her ears. obviously louder than the previous ones.

the heavy thump on the door when it opened proved her right.

“Caitlyn.”

of course it had to be her mother out of all people.

cassandra's eyebrows furrowed as she looked away with a small huff, trying to erase the sight from her mind by blinking and observing every detail on the window. she thought caitlyn was trying to sneak out and get involved with stuff she shouldn't like she had done in the past with serious cases or something, not this!

“It is 3 am; please take your… friend out of here.” a dismissive wave of her hand showed that there wasn't much room for arguing—none really because she's already out the door with a low mumble to herself before her daughter could say anything. tomorrow's talk is gonna be awful, that's for sure.

“just keep quiet some more, then you can go home, alright?” the blue haired girl softly whispered, leaning up and kissing the soft skin on your shoulder to reassure that you're not leaving until you get a few well deserved orgasms, her fingers already going back to rubbing small circles.

she's not gonna let a pretty girl leave her bedroom unsatisfied even if it means getting caught again.

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Part 4

Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Tags: Anxious-ish!Reader but not shy, one sided pining, no use of y/n, fem!reader, one sided enemies to lovers, fem!reader

Word Count: 2.2k words

Master List

“The only reason she didn’t smack you was because she broke her arm.” Gareth said before downing the rest of his soda and crunching it on the table. 

“I didn’t do anything to warrant a smacking.” Eddie said, crossing his arms. This had gone on for the past few minutes, where the guys had been hounding him about being seen with you and an ex-cheerleader. “I was a gentleman and carried her books to the cafeteria.” 

“She looked terrified to be seen with you.” Gareth was reaching for one of Jeff’s tater tots and yelped as his hand was smacked away. 

“So what else is new? Everyone’s afraid of Eddie except us.” Grant shrugged which caused the rest of the table to laugh before Eddie shot them a look that made them all shut up. 

It was a blessing and a curse being the Freak of Hawkins High. Eddie knew that most people were afraid of him here, and that’s what he liked. Having people scared of him, or at least apprehensive of him, made it easier to keep an eye on his club. People moved out of the way when he moved through the hallways now, unlike his first four years of high school when he was pushed around. 

Maybe it was because after that first senior year, Eddie had hit another growth spurt and looked more adult than most of the students. Wayne had once made a dry joke that if he cut his hair and wore a nice shirt for once he’d be mistaken for a teacher. Eddie had taken that personally and had spent his last few dollars on a metal WASP pin that weekend. 

Eddie knew he looked dangerous to the average student, and a criminal to the average teacher. When Eddie looked in the mirror, he just saw himself. 

“Did she say why she saved your ass from being expelled?” Dustin piped in, stealing one of Gareth’s tater tots while he was still trying to take Jeff’s. 

“No, but she said she fell to distract everyone over the fact that Miles shit himself during the pep rally.” Eddie deadpanned. 

“That’s the closest you’ll ever get to talking to a cheerleader, congratulations, Eddie.” Jeff said, with a mouth full of tater tots, finding it easier to shove them all in his mouth at once rather than spend the rest of lunch fending off Gareth. 

“Ex-cheerleader.” Eddie said without thinking. He wondered if Stacy blamed him for what happened. She didn’t seem pissed at him though, then again you seemed to dislike him enough for the both of you.  

“Exactly.” 

Quickly losing interest in this whole topic, Eddie pulled out his cassette player, removed the batteries, gave them a good shake and put them back in before pushing play. The rest of the club went back to talking about other things. As for Eddie, he had been listening to the same damn song for a week to get the riff right. With the rest of the club growing sick of the song, it gave Eddie an excuse to bow out of the conversation for a moment. 

He glanced back over at the table you were at for just long enough to see you and Stacy having a heated debate about something. What was it that got you so passionate right now? 

You looked frustrated, but you usually did when he was around. 

The rest of the day passed by at a snail's pace, with the days getting longer outside now and with how close he was to the end of the school year it was hard to keep momentum up. Eddie had come into this school year swinging, determined to pass those last few classes and get the hell out of here. But like anything that wasn’t D&D or music, the longer things went the harder it became. 

Senioritis was already bad, but for a 3rd year in a row? This was getting ridiculous. 

He thought back to this past summer where he sucked it up and signed up for summer school. Two classes over two months to show that he could count to twenty without taking his shoes off and say that Hitler was the one who killed Hitler and that gave him two shiny credits under his belt so that this year he only had to worry about Science and the PE class he had been skipping since middle school.

As much as it sucked, it was quick and easy and Eddie really just wished that regular school was as easy as summer school was. At least in summer school he was with the rest of the burnouts and future flunkies. No one there gave two shits about popularity. 

The final bell rang and he made his way to the parking lot towards his van. If there was one thing that his dad did right by him, it was leaving Eddie his van. His band and this piece of junk was his ticket out of Hawkins as soon as he had that diploma. 

Eddie passed the buses, taking the long way around as it was a surprisingly warm day for early Spring. 

His mind was distracted, wandering to the next time Corroded Coffin would practice- he needed to tune his guitar first, and check to make sure the amp was going to live to see another show, call Ronnie and-

THUMP

“Watch it!” Eddie turned and snapped as someone shoulder checked him as they rushed to the bus behind them. It was reflex, the past two years he’d dealt with this bullshit less and less and he wasn’t about to let it go now.

Eddie stopped as he made eye contact with you. You were gripping your arm and staring him down, caught between a snarl and a deer in the headlights. He met your gaze unflinching, until you blinked first and looked away. 

“Sorry.” you said before running onto the nearest bus. 

Shit. You probably hadn’t meant to actually shoulder check him. You had apologized, albeit reluctantly. If there was one thing he could give you credit for, you never went out of your way to be outright cruel to him. You just... didn’t like him. He could live with that for the next few months. 

Still, the sight of you running onto the bus stirred up the memory of the first time he remembered seeing you this past summer. You were always the first person on the bus in summer school. Guess that hadn’t changed. 

---

As long as you kept your headphones on and had a window seat, the bus wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You missed the freedom of being able to drive to and from school, stopping at gas stations for snacks or going to downtown Hawkins just to loiter around the shops. 

The first day on the bus was as peaceful as one could hope. Your personal mixtape was buzzing in your ear, you stared out the window as your peers were dropped off groups at a time at different stops. Some had parents waiting for them, some didn’t. You knew yours wouldn’t be. As soon as you hit freshman year, they swapped to the night shift deeming you old enough to take care of your own dinner, on your second round of summer school you saw them even less. 

Eddie was also held back, that wasn’t exactly a secret in the school and he could hardly pass as a pimple ridden teen anyway. That was also one of the reasons you seemed to gravitate to him. But while everyone knew about Eddie’s schooling history, having come to Hawkins late in your high school career, it allowed you a bit of extra discretion. Stacy was the only one who knew this was your second round of senior year. 

Your arm throbbed under your cast on the way home today, your face burning from embarrassment that you had almost had a nice conversation with Eddie earlier, but now he thought you shoulder checked him. You thunked your forehead against the window with a sigh. 

Eddie didn’t talk to you until the following Wednesday when the two of you were cornered by your teacher after the bell rang. You could see the look in Ms. Benson’s eyes what she wanted to talk about, but why was Eddie involved?

Ms. Benson handed Eddie his last paper, a C- scribbled at the top. Passing, but barely. Salt in the wound to you, and you looked down at your cast, picking at it. 

“You’re phoning it in, Mr. Munson.” she said. “I know that you don’t need this class to finally graduate but I don’t like mediocre work.”

You didn’t like that he was getting lectured when you were right there. Where was the decorum? The dignity? You wanted to crawl into the linoleum. 

Ms. Benson turned to you before Eddie could say anything. “You didn’t turn your paper in.” she said blatantly. She might as well have turned to Eddie and told him directly that you were a lazy dumbass. 

“I broke my wrist.” you said, more to the signature of Allie from gym class than to your teacher. If you had done literally anything else in class this year, then maybe that excuse could have worked, but you hadn’t and it didn’t. 

Ms. Benson took a look at you both and let out a long sigh. “I’m giving you both a chance to fix this.” she said. “I’m willing to offer you both extra credit to give you either a bonus on your final papers or replace a missing one.”

It was a good deal, a very very generous offer. Too generous-

“And what’s the catch, Ms, B?” Eddie asked skeptically. 

“I need volunteers for Spring Day.” she said. “You help with that, and I’ll give you the extra credit.” 

Spring Day was basically a free day where kids could either skip school or come for a slack off day. There were games, events happening at the gym, fields, and library, catered lunches, and plenty of ways to sneak off. 

“Sorry, no can do.” Eddie said. “I was banned from Spring Day. I have a hot date with in school suspension and you know how Higgins hates it when I cancel on him like that.” 

“I already cleared it with him.” Ms. Benson said, shocking Eddie. “As long as you stay away from the balloon pop booth.”

You saw Eddie smirk out of the corner of your eye. “I was framed, I swear.” 

“Of course you were.” She said dismissively. “So,I expect both of you to show up after school on Mondays and Wednesdays to meet me to help set this up. We only have a few weeks, and the budget is tight.”

Well, there was clearly no choice now. Just like that, you were now being volun-told to help with the one day a year you didn’t feel guilty about doing jack shit. 

“...Go away now.” Ms. Benson said, and you and Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. You turned tail and damn near ran out of the room. 

You were at your locked, struggling with the damn lock when you heard a voice next to you. “Do you think humiliation was also part of the extra credit, or are we just lucky?” 

Eddie had followed you to your locker, he was the last person you wanted to see after that. “I guess.” you mumbled, awkwardly shoving books in as you grabbed your lunch. 

You could handle feeling judged by teachers and your fellow students. That was the norm since you were a kid. God, Eddie was on his sixth year! Why did you care what he thought about you? Wouldn’t he understand better than anyone at this school what you were dealing with? 

You closed the locker harder than you meant to and Eddie winced. Shit. You had to say something to ease the tension. 

“...What did you do to the water balloons?” You asked, looking at him. Eddie smiled wide at you. 

“Allegedly I added some fun food coloring to the water.” he shrugged. “I didn’t think this school hated red and black so much.” 

You cracked a smile despite yourself. “It’s not exactly school colors.” 

“It’s not.” Eddie agreed, messing with one of his rings. His eyes darted past you, and you looked over to see Stacy walking over. 

“Eddie.” she nodded with a pleasant smile. Maybe too pleasant? No, that’s weird to think about your best friend. 

“Stacy.” Eddie nodded back. 

You had a weird feeling that there was a conversation going on, that you were in the middle of. You tried to shake off the thought, Stacy knew everyone. Stacy had a way of making everyone feel important, plus she was super pretty. You couldn’t blame Eddie for looking at her, and you tried to squash that glob of jealousy. Stacy was your best friend, she wouldn’t make a move on the guy you’ve been pining over. 

Stacy turned to you. “We’re sitting outside today with Nancy. She wants to interview me for the school paper.” 

“Wheeler?” you asked. “Uh, sure.” Stacy had so many damn accolades you didn’t bother asking which one she was being interviewed for. You’d read about it later. “Uh, see you on Wednesday, I guess, Eddie.”

“Yeah, see ya.” Eddie agreed as Stacy lead you away. 

“Wednesday?” she whispered with a glint in her eyes. “The second we turn the corner you’re talking.”

----

2 posts in one day?! Yeah lol. This fic is pure stream of consciousness so even I barely know what's happening. I have a vague idea of story beats bot otherwise this fic is always hot off the press lol.

Tag List:  @eddiemunsonfuxks @kirsteng42 @strangereads @pedroschka @generoustrashpeach

@sheneedsrocknroll92 @cyanfairywren @crocworkships @tomtomslongdong @aphrogeneias

@ghcstpyre @totheforestandtheocean @stevekeeryswife @dreamyyy222222 @ajnerdess

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@2spock @c14r3v1b3srs @yujyujj @saramelaniemoon @morganlolitta

@veemoon @mrsrdlw @eddieheart @bambibiest @mylovelycrazyworld

@sassidykassidy @cultish-corner @thedoubleexposurephotography @bambibiest @wheels-of-despair

@amieinghigh

[radfemsiren]

Remembering my Afghani American best friend from my islamic elementary and middle school whose dad would get drunk every night and beat the shit out of her mother. She begged and begged for sleepovers because strangers in the house would make him leave, and I never told my parents about the situation (I lied and said she had no father or brothers) because I loved spending time at her house and staying up the whole night doing all the things we weren’t allowed to do that was “haram”… watching rated r movies, playing horror computer games, dancing to music videos on YouTube, cat walking in heels and makeup, scaring ourselves with creepypastas.

I remember we had a million stupid ass discussions about who the purple guy from five nights at Freddies was, or what a slenderman proxy meant, or if there were illuminati signs in Katy Perry music videos, or if emo drawings of Jeff the killer were hot. We’d whisper fight if Beyoncé or Lana del Rey was a better singer, or if teen wolf or maze runner had cuter boys. She was team Beyoncé and teen wolf.

We had to constantly be separated in school for talking, and we hated the creepy janitor and would throw wads of wet paper towel on the bathroom ceiling for him to clean up later. We got into so much trouble together, and would always smirk at each other in detention when we got yelled at. We’d shoplift lipsticks from the mall, and throw away expensive Quran transliterations from school, and sneak into the teachers break room and steal handfuls of ice and throw them on the imam/principal’s desk when he was gone to ruin his paperwork.

I moved away like I always had to do with my constantly migrating family and we lost touch. The last time I saw her in person was when we were still kids at her brothers wedding. I was laughing while I tried to ask her why the bride kept changing into different brightly colored dresses throughout the night. She wasn’t listening, and she burst into tears and cried about how her brother was just like her father and did every horrible thing he did. I held her and squeezed her so tight I thought her bones would break.

I recently tried to reconnect with her again but she’s already married, pregnant, and has abandoned social media and texting because it’s “haram.” Trying to talk to her was like speaking to a stranger… she had no interest in any of the things we would spend hours playing with before. “Islam is important to me now, I’m a new woman. We were messed up kids, it’s time to grow up.” She told me to never contact her again and hung up the phone.

Sometimes I feel like I failed her, and sometimes I understand that I was a girl trying to survive too.

One day I’ll save money to travel back there and talk to her in person. I’ll snap her out of it. We’ll spend all night up together again doing every terrible thing our teachers and parents and religious leaders warned us against, and laughing the whole way through it. We’ll get kicked out of bars and get into trouble and snicker our way through it all, knowing we’ve already won. I still have her dirty, worn, my littlest pet shop horse she gave me when we first met. I hold it in my hands when I see news of the what’s happening to the women of Afghanistan, and I feel like I’ve failed her again. That I’ll forever be stuck an immature child and her a miserable adult, both of us doomed, unable to be saved from our fates in the end.

[kokokoula]

drunk confessions

a/n: wow i haven't posted in a long while hahaha thanks for staying :) i'm so burnt out from exams please tolerate me🥲 again, not beta read, my beta reader is busy as heck because of a hellish sch system. also, i wrote all of this at 3am, i hope it's still readable TT (this is obvi in timeskip no underage drinking guys)

---

"i think i love you."

you rest your head on your palm, gazing at him with soft eyes and warm cheeks. you reek of alcohol; tsukishima doesn't seem to care.

the two of you sit by the bar at the far end, where the light jazz music gets faint. he's thinking clearly, only a bit red from a drink or two— or is it something else?— while you're flat out drunk. his eyes widen slightly at your confession, and pauses.

"don't say things you don't mean." tsukishima eventually brushes you off, pushing his glasses further up. despite that, his heart beats a little faster, and he hates it.

you splay out your arms across the countertop, burying your face in them. he takes the last swig of his drink. there is the distant sound of glasses clinking and a cheer.

"tsukki?" his name is a bit slurred as you turn to him again. your hair is in a tangled mess, locks of it falling over your eyes. he resists the urge to tuck them away and behind your ear.

tsukishima nudges your foot: a sign to continue.

"y'know, when i first met you, i thought you were an arrogant, self-centred bastard. i hated you." you state, fiddling with your empty shot glass. wow, and just when he thought things were getting intimate.

"where exactly are you going with this?" he frowns at you.

"we used to bicker about almost everything at school. i can't count how many times yamaguchi had to step in." you giggle, hiccuping at the end. you didn't seem to have heard him but he doesn't mind. he shakes his head, a small smile appearing on his face; you look so cute being lost in your own world.

"remember it was our last class, and it happened to rain that day? you laughed at me because i didn't bring an umbrella." yes, he remembers. tadashi was sick that day, and the both of you ended up getting lectured many times by teachers for your incessant arguments. he almost laughs at the thought of it.

"i didn't expect to find your umbrella in my shoe locker after you left, though. you said you had an extra when i confronted you about it but yamaguchi already told me you had returned home drenched." tsukishima's face starts to burn. shit, being reminded of how down bad he was—and still is— is embarrassing. he wishes he was much cooler about it.

"i couldn't accept that you were capable of being nice, let alone to me..." it's even more so because of you.

"...till i realised you're nothing like what i thought you were. you admit your own faults, are too hard on yourself, and incredibly encouraging of your friends in your own complicated way. hell, even to hinata and kageyama!" you're sitting upright now, your hands making exaggerated movements as you talk. you take a deep breath in.

"it's your fault that i can't stop thinking about you, and that i get so sickeningly happy when i see you. so shuddup, i do mean it when i said i think, no wait, i know i love you." you rebuke him, pointing your finger at him like an angry child.

you have done it. you've lit his face on fire with your words. he can't tear his eyes away from your piercing gaze.

tsukishima isn't the most affectionate person, but maybe it's the late hour, or the influence of the alcohol, because he reaches over to caress the back of your head and bring you closer to him. his lips softly presses against your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away. he sees your eyes sparkle.

since kei believes actions speak louder than words, he hopes you know that this, everything, means something.

[hexlenx]

EVEN IN OTHER UNIVERSES, I LOVE YOU. — aaron taylor-johnson

In which you came home tired from work and only just wanted to lay down on your shared-bed with your husband. Only to see five different version of said husband.

note: hello! So I have come to write another one shot or fic or whatever you call it because I couldn't help myself but write this new idea I thought of. I do hope you enjoy!

warnings!: none because we fluffy today pookie.

__________________

Sighing tiredly you let out a groan as you took a small break in your car, resting your head on the steering wheel as you closed your eyes for a few moments.

You just finished your work from helping your director write the script for the next movie you're starring. You see, you've been an actress in the industry for a long time now and even though it's tiring you continue to work through it as it is your passion. Plus, it's where you met your lovable and handsome husband. A fellow well-known actor in the industry.

The director asked for your help because you had experience in directing as well as a degree for it. So hence why you also came home late while your husband went ahead after a bit of your persuasion. Thinking of your husband, you smiled fondly. How can you be so lucky to have such a man?

While you were taking a small break from your car, said husband was sweating profusely in the kitchen with a spatula in hand while wearing a pink apron.

Looking at the five males in front of him, Aaron cursed underneath his breath.

"Fuck me."

The gate opened automatically after scanning your car's number plate. Before driving in reverse towards the garage door. Humming a soft tune you put the car on park and grabbed everything you need from the car before coming out of it.

Opening the door connected to the kitchen, you took off your shoes and hanged your coat on the hanger before calling out to your husband with a bright smile.

"Honey, I'm home!" Your smile slowly turned into worry as you were greeted by nothing. Usually you were greeted by a beaming charming smile as well as a giant hug lifting you off from your feet while being spun around by your husband.

Where could he be?

"Aaron? You there?" In slight worry you walked around the first floor of the house searching for your husband, but alas there was no sign so you moved upstairs.

There was a thump in one of the rooms when you were in the middle of walking on the stairs making you feel worry and fear when you heard a voice groaning as well as cursing. Your mind was running in a fast pace as you run up from the stairs towards the source of those noises.

No it can't be, please tell me he didn't—

The scene in front of you shocked you. The noises stopped as the figures looked at you in silence.

"Love, I can explain—" Aaron was the first to break the silence with his hands up as if he was trying not to anger you. And let me tell you, you do not want an angry wife at you.

However, instead of an angry wife. You looked like you were about to cry. You see, another thing about you is that you are quite an open and very sensitive person. Your legs gave up as you collapsed on the floor, tears running down your face as your exhaustion mixed with your anxiety was not a good combination right now.

"I—i thought you were with a w-woman—" you stuttered as your husband immediately went over you to put you in his embrace the moment your knees buckled whispering praises as well as reassurance to you. Desperately trying to calm you down. He knew you were very tired since it's about ten in the evening by now and he supposes that the noises he and the others made, made you think of something else.

His heart broke just by thinking he was doing things to another woman other than you, he cannot and will never do such a thing to you. He loves you too much to do so.

The five other male in the room looked at the scene in front of them, disbelief clear in their faces as they looked at your figure. Hearts beating uncontrollably as the younger looking male in the room muttered a name.

Your name.

This made all of you to snap your heads up to the male. Now that you look at it, they all looked just like your husband. No, actually all of them are your husband. No one can impersonate your husband unless it's your husband himself, his face is too unique to be able to copy.

"Why are there five more of you?"

Now that the situation has calmed down, you, your husband and five more of him sat in the living room in silence. Assessing the situation.

"So you're telling me that you, Dave was getting beaten up almost to death before coming here? James, you got here when you were stuck by Voldemort. Alexei, got here when you fell from your horse at full speed, head first. Tangerine, you got here after getting shot on the neck trying to kill the White Death's child and Pietro, you got shot multiple times by saving Clint from dying? Have I summarized it correctly?" You summarized outloud as the others nodded to confirm your statement. You sighed as both you and your husband looked at each other, not knowing what to do since unlike some of their worlds, you guys don't have the power to bring them back to theirs. But they all don't seem like they're hurt from their explanations. Maybe it's cuz they're in a different world.

"What were you doing before I barged in the room?" You asked your husband who looked everywhere but you.

"I was trying to give them some clothes, Dave, Pietro and James was the only one who accepted it but the other two wanted something that fit their styles." Aaron sighed as he took a sip at the coffee he made since it was getting late. He really thinks that you should rest first and let him handle it though.

"Sorry gentlemen, but it's quite late in the evening and I would like to take a nap and rest. We will take care of this tomorrow." You sent them a tired smile as you stood up from your seat and towards your bedroom upstairs, leaving all six of them in the room.

As soon as you were out of hearing range, Aaron's expression turned cold as he looked at Dave. Even if he knew the kid wouldn't hurt his wife because he played his character years ago, he will still not let loose his guard. Dave flinched from the glare and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while the others stared at him the same way as Aaron, that's weird.

"How do you know my wife?"

This made the men's eyes go wide. Wife? That made them collectively let out a sigh of relief. Wife..

"She's also your wife?" James asked Aaron, it's kind of weird talking to yourself as he looked at the older one in wonder.

"also?" Aaron questioned.

"Yea, I mean. In my universe I married her and had Harry after we got married at twenty-one." James enthusiastically explained as his face brightened up when talking about his lover.

"Uh.. she's my girlfriend in my universe too." Dave lifted up his hand awkwardly. Though you can see that he is also happy to announce that you are his lover.

"I'm also her lover when I have escaped Hydra with my twin sister." Pietro said with a charming smile, his face brightening up whenever he mentioned his wife.

"I'm married to'er in my universe. Doll, was the only one who accepted me other than my brother." Tangerine uttered out as he lit up a cigarette before puffing it out the smoke from his mouth, where he got that from? I don't know and neither does the others.

"...she is my affair, my lover that I intend to protect with all of my soul. The only maiden who saw me for me and not some viscount." Alexei said as his eyes were clouded with the memories of his lover. Ah, how he longed to be in her arms again.

"All of us are her lovers in another universe, huh?" Aaron sighed out, his smile coming out as he thought that even in different versions of himself, he chooses you and is still with you. It makes him sigh in content and happiness as he is assured that no matter what happens, he is still with you in the end.

"Even in every other universes, I love you." All men uttered out, the atmosphere becoming serene as they sat in a few moments of silence.

Warmth filled their chests as the leaned back in their seats as their thoughts only circled in one subject.

You.

[aparttimewriter]

THE SONGBIRD: part two

chirsmd x musician reader !

summary: chris is trying to move on from his breakup, little did he know he would find a connection with one of his roommates friends

social media au ✨

yourusername

liked by masonmount, chrismd10, taliamar and 436,789 others

tagged: chrismd10

yourusername: currently in my youtube era, check out my terrible football skills on the chrismd channel ( whenever the video comes out )

view all 10,678 comments

masonmount: green flag

—yourusername: might change your mind after seeing the video

user: chrismd and y/n this collab was not on my 2024 bingo card

user: not mount in the comments trying to rizz up our girl 😂

chrismd10: you will be getting an invoiced for my broken camera

—yourusername: i warned you about my aim!

user: i need to know chris’s secret how is this man hanging out with y/n

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by taliamar, arthurnfhill, chrismd10 and 678,899 others

tagged: taliamar, georgeclarkeey, arthurtv, arthurnfhill, chrismd10

yourusername: life’s been pretty good lately xx

taliamar: someone please date this girl !! just look at that face

—yourusername: mum stop embarrassing me 😳

user: she’s so incredibly fit

arthurnfhill: that photo was meant to be deleted!!

chrismd10: why is your dog in a cowboy hat ??

—yourusername: why not ?? please don’t disrespect sherif marshall he’s a very good boy

user: seeing y/n being friends with all these british youtubers is so strange

—user: arthur hill and her are signed to the same record label so it’s not the weird

user: please y/n jusy give me one chance 🙏🏻

yourusername added to their story

arthurnfhill

liked by yourusername, georgeclarkeey, chrismd10 and 20,568 others

tagged: yourusername, arthurtv, georgeclarkeey

arthurnhill: enjoy some behind the scene snaps of the newest platform roulette video with @yourusername making her first appearance

view all 5,679 comments

user: y/n being in her youtube era is feeding us so much content!

georgeclarkeey: that’s last photo was for your eyes only mr hill

user: did anyone catch in the video how y/n said that she thought chris was handsome?!

—user: yes !! i noticed that as well points for the short kings

yourusername: wow so many flattering 

angel..thanks

—arthurnfhill: just capturing your natural beauty

user: lowkey picking up a vibe that y/n has a little thing for chris

user: not y/n out drinking the three of them 😂

an: thanks so much for the love on part 1 !! i am having so much fun creating this series for you all xx

tag list: @arthurhillmastermind @melancholicandmessy @cinnvmonrolls @misplacedxeggos

[louisferrignojr]

i don't know if i have the energy to write this into a full fic but i want to write something from tommy's pov and i got this idea that could work as a prequel to the fix it fic i already wrote but basically

chimney shows up at his house with a six pack and tommy opens the door and wordlessly steps aside to let him in

of course chimney is there because he heard about the break up and he wants to offer tommy a shoulder to cry on because he knows tommy is hurting just as much as buck is, and buck has his sister and his best friend and his makeshift father figure, but tommy doesn't really have any close friends; a lot of surface-level friendships with the people he hangs out with, and he's good with his coworkers but harbor station isn't like the 118. he also knows it's only been a few days and the wound is still so fresh, and when tommy doesn't show signs of opening up, chimney does.

he wasn't going to share the news of the pregnancy, they aren't telling people yet because it's too soon, and he didn't think it was a good time to flaunt his joy so to speak, but it works as a segue to a conversation about his relationship with maddie, everything they've been through - tommy doesn't know the half of it, because while they've seen each other a lot more often in the past six months, they haven't had a chance to hang out one-on-one and dig deep. he tells tommy about all of it, from the beginning, how they met and how they started dating, the first surprise pregnancy, the separation, the engagement, all of it. and everything he's learned these past few years, all the ways he's grown as a person since tommy's transfer.

and he tells tommy about the buckleys of it all, how maddie is the one who runs and buck is the one who gets left behind. he sees the way tommy's expression shifts when he hears that, and he says, "yeah, you fucked up big time, buddy." because it's the truth, and because tommy hurt his brother, after all, and chimney's always going to have his back.

and finally tommy cracks and admits how much he's been struggling, second guessing himself, part of him knowing it was self-sabotage and part of him justifying the decision with all the logical reasons it was the right thing to do, but he never thought about how it would have affected evan, and now he's beating himself up over it, because he'd been selfish and impulsive and cowardly, and he wishes he could have stayed and talked it through instead of running.

in the end chimney tells him it's not too late, and he deserves a second chance, and he bets anything buck is willing to give him that. tommy replays their conversation in his mind the next day as he's driving to evan's loft to pick up his things. end scene.

[aristaspark]

Another JWCT season 2 Kenlynn analysis because I'm obsessed and I don't know if the writers are geniuses, or if I'm getting worked up over a whole lot of nothing 😂.

So, bear with me.

Kenji's arc in season 2 is clear from the first episode: he's throwing himself at danger because of the losses he's suffered. He's broken.

But in all that sadness, he has one last glimmer of hope: Bumpy's egg.

He's the one the most attached to it, even more so than Ben. After all these losses, it's the first sign of something good happening in his life. It's the contrary of death, a birth, "someone" new he can love.

During the entire season he's the most concerned with the egg, obsessed with getting it back, almost dying for it (more on that later).

Now flashfoward to episode 8: he discovers that Brooklynn is alive.

When he finds out, he's confused, hurt, mad, shook to his core (but props to the animators, for a split second...you can see that he is just... so happy).

"She's alive?"

But the hurt and feeling of betrayal is too hard for him to grasp, so he pushes all his feelings away. He knows it's not the time.

And what does he do in order to push away his feelings about Brooklynn?

He focuses on the egg, as we established the only thing in his life which isn't tarnished or hurtful. And he desperately needs it right now, now that his whole world is crumbling down even more. This shift in his priorities is shown when he says this:

"The eggs... Brooklynn took Bumpy's egg..."

At this point, Kenji's motivations are still unclear, but this line suggests that his main goal, the thing the most important to him at this moment is the same as it was at the beggining of the season, aka getting Bumpy's egg back... not getting to Brooklynn.

So when he goes berserk, driving like a madman, running as if his life depended on it to get to Brooklynn, of course we have the feeling that he wants to see her, but he's also running to achieve his objective, which has always been to take care of Bumpy's egg, and it just so happens that Brooklynn is the one obstacle to his goal.

We can see he's desperate, but it's left to interpretation as to exactly why.

Until he finally catches up to Brooklynn.

It's Brooklynn's hand he grabbs, not the case. The thing he wanted the most is in his direct reach, yet he grabbs her hand. In this moment, he completely forgets about the egg, not even sparing it a glance, not mentionning it even once.

"Brooklynn..."

All that matters to him is that the girl he loves is there, in front of him, which he thought would never happen again.

We finally have the confirmation that the reason he was so eager to run to that airport wasn't to get the egg back, but to see her. And not to get mad at her, no, just to... get her back.

And then, Brooklynn leaves.

She leaves them, but she leaves him. It's him she looks at the last, his grasp she frees herself from, him who utters her name afterward.

They're still at the center of the scene, and the scene is a direct call back to the break-up scene (also... their colors are matching, it's like not even a little subtle, which tells me there's a reason Brooklynn wore a dark blue shirt the entire season...which is SO NOT her color).

Notice how even there, it's Ben who remembers to ask Brooklynn to give them the egg.

"Wait! Bumpy's egg... it's in that case..."

It's SO FAR from being something Kenji can focus on right now, now that Brooklynn is in front of him.

We then find out that before boarding the plane, Brooklynn has given Kenji the egg. Not Ben (who was the one who asked for it), not Darius, but Kenji.

...And Kenji looks the most heart-broken he has ever looked.

He has just gotten his hands on what he thought he wanted the most, his ultimate goal this season, the very thing he threw himself into fire for, into an ocean beaten by the storm... and yet he's not even looking at it, his eyes instead watching the plane take off with Brooklynn inside.

He's gotten what he thought he wanted, but at what price?

It's not to diminish his link to Bumpy's egg. As I've shown, he risked his life countless times for it. But it just goes to show just how much Brooklynn matters to him. In that last scene, it's made clear that the thing he wanted the most, was for her to come back to them, to him. But she didn't, and gave him the egg to make up for it, as some sort of consolation price.

But it's not, and it will never be.

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Houston [3/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 3.4k Summary: Things are shifting in just the ten days since realigning the campaign strategy to keep you and Steve on the trail together and to sharpen some of the policies and messaging. You're starting to hit a new stride as you make a stop in Houston, and the city also affords you a unique opportunity to meet with a former President and First Lady.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn, brief political discussion of climate change

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

POLITICAL NOTES: It's been a big week with the 2024 election. This story - while a romance - revolves around a presidential campaign, and so there will be political policy incorporated, but I am not inviting political discourse. If you don't agree in regards to anything in the brief section climate change policy, that is okay but I do not want to hear about it.

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[SEPTEMBER 17 - Houston]

The Houston heat hits you like a wall as you step off the campaign bus, the air thick and heavy with humidity. You blink against the bright Texas sun, grateful for the large sunglasses shielding your eyes. The crowd gathered outside the community center is already substantial, a sea of red, white, and blue signs waving in the afternoon heat.

Steve steps off the bus behind you, and you feel his presence at your back, solid and reassuring. You turn to him, offering a smile that's part genuine, part for the cameras you know are capturing your every move. He returns it, his hand coming to rest lightly on the small of your back - a gesture that's become second nature for public appearances, yet still sends a confusing whoosh through your stomach each time. But you push through and ignore it as you both wave to the cheering crowd.

"Ready?" he asks, leaning in close enough so you can hear over all the noise.

You nod, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

The two of you make your way along the line of the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging greetings as you go. You've gotten better at this part over the months - the constant smiling, the brief but warm interactions, the way to make each person feel seen and heard in just a few seconds. Steve, of course, is a natural at it, his charisma and sincerity shining through with every handshake and small bit of conversation.

As you near the entrance to the community center, you spot a group of young people holding signs about climate change and renewable energy. Your eyes meet Steve's, and you see the same thought reflected there - these are exactly the voters you've been trying to reach.

Without missing a beat, you veer slightly off course, heading towards the group. Steve follows your lead, and you can practically feel the collective intake of breath from your security detail.

"Hi there," you say warmly as you approach. "Thank you, we’re so glad you came out today.”

"Thank you for being here," Steve adds, his voice warm and genuine. "I see you're passionate about climate change. That's something I care deeply about, too."

A young woman with curly hair and bright eyes steps forward. "We appreciate that, but we've heard a lot of politician talk before. What specific actions will you take to address the climate crisis if elected?"

You exchange a quick glance with Steve, impressed by the young woman's directness. This is exactly the kind of engagement you've been hoping for.

"That's an excellent question," you begin, "and I'm glad you're asking it. Steve has developed a comprehensive plan to tackle climate change, including immediate steps he'll take in the first 100 days."

Steve nods, picking up where you left off. "We're committed to a systemic overhaul of energy sources and infrastructure along with transitions and expansion for public transportation. We know that infrastructure is an opportunity - not only to address climate change, but to transform the economy by creating job opportunities as we build and transition away from coal, gas, and oil. It will also address the severe need to update existing power grids that are failing.

"But it's not just about policy and output right now," Steve continues, his voice passionate. "It's about creating a sustainable future for your generation and those that follow instead of just talking about it. But as we talk, we want to work with young leaders like yourselves to make sure your voices are heard in shaping these policies - you’ll be living with them longer than the rest of us."

You watch as the young woman's expression shifts from skepticism to cautious interest. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?" she asks.

"Well, for starters, we're here listening to you right now," you say with a smile. "But Steve plans to create a Youth Climate Council that will have direct input on policy decisions. We want to bring fresh perspectives and innovative ideas to the table."

Steve nods in agreement. "And we're not just talking about advisory roles. We want to create pathways for young people to enter public service and take on leadership positions in environmental agencies."

The group exchanges glances, clearly impressed by the specifics and taking Steve more seriously for not brushing them off or placating them quickly in a picket line.

Steve presses further, "What specific actions do you think are most critical? What solutions have you seen proposed that resonate with you?"

The young woman looks slightly taken aback, clearly not expecting to be asked for her input. But she recovers quickly. "Well, you mentioned it, but we need to transition away from fossil fuels much faster than current plans allow. The movement for offshore wind farms should be accelerated - especially on the East Coast. And we need to protect vulnerable communities who will be hit hardest by climate change."

Steve nods encouragingly. "Those are excellent points. In fact, environmental justice is a key component of our climate plan. We're proposing initiatives to ensure clean air and water in all communities, especially those that have historically borne the brunt of pollution."

Another young man in the group speaks up. "What about jobs? My dad works in the oil industry. He's worried about losing his livelihood if we move too quickly on clean energy."

Steve turns to him, his expression thoughtful. "That's a valid concern, and it's one we take very seriously. We're not looking to leave anyone behind in this transition. Our plan includes a comprehensive job retraining program for workers in fossil fuel industries. We want to create new opportunities in clean energy sectors, so people like your dad can be part of building a sustainable future without sacrificing their livelihoods."

You nod, adding, "We're looking at ways to incentivize companies to retool their existing facilities for clean energy production. It's not just about creating new jobs, but also about transforming existing ones."

The young man seems to consider this, nodding slowly. "That sounds... promising. I'd like to learn more about that."

Sophia and Bucky begin to press in, signaling that you need to move along to get into the actual event.

"We're limited for time here, but we’d be eager to discuss more details," you say, reaching into your bag and pulling out a business card. "Here's my contact information. Please reach out soon, I mean it.”

You and Steve then get ushered inside, hand in hand.

Later that night, you get a rare opportunity, and one you’ve been excited but also nervous for since it landed on your schedule the week before.

Former President and First Lady Matt and Helen Santos have invited you to their Houston home for dinner and drinks. It’s not a public appearance, so that takes some of the pressure off, but you're still acutely aware of the significance of this meeting. The Santos administration remains widely regarded as one of the most successful in recent history, and their endorsement - even an implicit one - could be a game-changer for the campaign.

Beyond that it's a chance to learn from a couple who've been through the crucible of a presidential campaign and life in the White House.

Helen Santos greets you at the door, her warm smile immediately putting you at ease. "Come in! We're so glad you could make it," she says, ushering you inside.

The interior of the home is tastefully decorated, a blend of modern and traditional styles that feels both impressive and comfortable. You spot several family photos on the walls, reminders that despite their status, the Santos family is just that - a family.

Matt Santos appears from what you assume is the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Welcome, you two," he says, shaking Steve's hand and giving you a brief hug. "I hope you’re hungry! It’s humble, but I’m putting the finishing touches on my chili."

“Don’t let him fool you,” Helen says, “he’s anything but humble about it.”

“Sorry, did I forget to mention the recipe won a blue ribbon before I got into politics? Because it did, so it wasn’t a biased award,” he clarifies.

You all laugh, and the warmth and welcome these two generate in those first few minutes is remarkable, and something that truly soothes your heart in ways you didn’t know you were hungry for.

As you settle into the Santos' comfortable living room, Helen offers drinks. You accept a glass of wine, grateful for something to occupy your hands. Steve opts for water, ever the responsible candidate.

"So," Matt says, leaning back in his armchair, "how's the campaign trail treating you? I remember those days - exhilarating and exhausting in equal measure."

Steve nods, a wry smile on his face. "That's an apt description. It's been... intense. But rewarding."

"And how are you two holding up as a couple?" Helen asks, her eyes kind but perceptive. "The campaign trail can be brutal, especially on a relationship."

You glance at Steve, unsure how to answer. Your relationship is still mostly for show, but you've grown closer over the past few weeks. Before you can formulate a response, Steve speaks up.

"It's been an adjustment," he says diplomatically. "But we're figuring it out."

Matt nods knowingly. "Helen and I had been married for years before we ran, and it was still a challenge. I can't imagine doing it as newlyweds."

You smile, trying to hide your discomfort. "It's certainly been a unique experience," you say, opting for honesty. "We're learning a lot about each other very quickly."

Helen leans forward, her expression sympathetic. "I'm sure it's overwhelming at times. The scrutiny, the constant demands on your time and energy. It can be a lot to handle, especially when you're still getting to know each other."

You nod, feeling a wave of relief at her understanding. "It is overwhelming," you admit. "But it's exciting, in its own way. We're building something together, not just as a couple but for the country."

Steve reaches over and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. The gesture surprises you, but you try not to let it show. "She's been incredible," he says, his voice warm. "I couldn't ask for a better partner in this.”

Helen regards you both, her expression warm but serious. "I hope you don't mind me saying this, pulling out my First Lady moment already, but I've been watching you two. Not just tonight, but throughout the campaign. There's something there, between you. A spark, a connection. Don't lose that in all the craziness of the campaign."

You feel your cheeks flush slightly, caught off guard by Helen's perceptiveness. You wonder if she’s speaking in general or if she suspects yours is a politically arranged marriage. You glance at Steve, who looks equally surprised.

Matt chimes in, "Helen's right. The campaign is important, but at the end of the day, it's your relationship that will sustain you through the challenges ahead. Trust me, if you make it to the White House, you'll need each other more than ever."

Steve nods, his expression thoughtful. "We appreciate the advice. It's not easy to find that balance."

You squeeze Steve's hand, grateful for his honesty. "We're working on it," you add softly.

He pulls your hand casually into his lap and envelops it in both of his. You can't help but feel a small thrill at the contact, the very normal expression of intimacy that speaks of a more comfortable and normal connection, and you love the way his large hands hold yours. This feels like something that could be real, on more days than this.

Helen smiles warmly. "That's all anyone can ask. Now, who's ready for some of Matt's famous chili?"

As you move to the dining room, you can't help but feel a mix of emotions. The Santos' warmth and wisdom have touched something deep within you, reminding you of the very real human element at the heart of this political whirlwind.

Over dinner, the conversation flows easily, touching on everything from campaign strategies to favorite books. You find yourself relaxing, laughing at Matt's stories from his time in office and Helen's witty comebacks.

As the evening winds down, Helen pulls you aside while the men are engrossed in a discussion about foreign policy.

"Can I give you some advice?" Helen asks softly, her eyes kind but serious.

You nod eagerly, grateful to glean even more guidance from someone who's walked this path before.

Helen takes a deep breath. "The hardest part of being First Lady isn't the public scrutiny or the demanding schedule. It's maintaining your sense of self in the midst of it all. Don't lose yourself in the role, in the campaign, or even in your marriage. Remember who you are and what you bring to the table."

You feel a lump form in your throat, touched by Helen's words and the understanding behind them. "Thank you," you manage to say. "I... I'm trying to find that balance."

Helen smiles warmly. "I can see that. And from what I've observed, you're doing a remarkable job. But it's a constant effort, believe me."

You nod, absorbing her words. "How did you do it? Maintain your identity while supporting him and taking on such a public role?"

Helen's eyes grow distant for a moment, as if recalling a memory. "It was hard," she admits. "There were times I felt lost, like I was just an extension of Matt's presidency rather than my own person. I learned to carve out spaces for myself - my own initiatives, my own passions. And most importantly, I made sure Matt and I had time just for us, away from the politics and the pressures."

You feel a pang in your chest at her words. You and Steve barely have time alone, let alone time to just be yourselves without the weight of the campaign.

Helen smiles warmly. "This journey you're on - whether or not he gets elected - it's meant to be shared."

You nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. "Sometimes I feel like I'm still getting to know him, even as we're presenting this united front to the world."

Helen's expression softens with understanding. "That's not uncommon, especially given your unique circumstances. But I see the way he looks at you when you're not watching. There's admiration there, and something deeper. A lot of people in this country get married, but not every married couple has that for each other, and even some of the ones who do don’t realize the treasure they have. Don't be afraid to explore it. Grow it together."

Your heart skips a beat at her words. Could she be right? You think back to the conversation you overheard back in that hotel conference room in Cleveland, Steve's hesitation, his fear of letting you in. But also his words of praise, the gentle touches that have become more frequent lately. Could there be more there than just a political partnership?

Before you can respond, the men rejoin you, Steve taking his place beside you, and his hand comes to rest gently on your lower back. "Ready to head out?" he asks softly. "We've got an early start tomorrow."

You nod, and the four of you initiate your goodbyes.

“Thank you," you say, turning back to Helen, hoping she understands the depth of your gratitude. "For everything."

She pulls you into a warm hug. "Any time," she says. "And I mean that. Call me if you ever need to talk, about anything."

You and Steve finish your goodbyes and make your way to the waiting car. The evening has given you much to think about, not just about the campaign, but about your relationship with Steve.

The car ride back to the hotel is quiet, both of you lost in your own thoughts, but you realize it’s a comfortable silence.

Arriving at that night’s hotel, the silence lingers all the way until you enter the elevator, Steve turns to you, his expression thoughtful. "That was enlightening," he says softly.

You nod, feeling a mix of emotions - gratitude for the Santos' wisdom, hope for what could be, and a lingering uncertainty about where you and Steve stand. "They're incredible people," you reply. "So generous with their time and wisdom."

Steve hums in agreement. The elevator doors open, and you two head down the hallway to your suites, right across the hall from each other.

Normally, this is where you'd say goodnight and go your separate ways - Steve to his room, you to yours. But you hesitate, because tonight feels different.

"Helen gave me some really good advice," you say.

Steve looks at you intently, his blue eyes searching yours. "Oh? What about?"

"About maintaining my sense of self through all of this. And... about us."

"What did she say about us?" Steve asks.

You hesitate, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "She said... she sees the strong connection between us, and that we shouldn't lose sight of it in the chaos of the campaign."

Steve's expression softens, a mix of surprise and something else you can't quite read. He takes a step closer to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"And what do you think?" he asks, his voice low and gentle.

Your heart races as you look up at him. "Steve, I..." you begin, but the words catch in your throat.

He reaches out, gently tucking your hair behind your ear. The touch sends a shiver down your spine. "I know," he says softly. "I've been... distant. Guarded. And I'm sorry for that."

The truth is, you know you’ve been guarded, too. And you’re not sure you’re ready to risk anything with exploring more. Not only do you both need to be focused for the campaign, but you locked your heart in a box, and you don’t know if opening it will be a mess that you can face right now.

But you do think there’s a possibility you could have more connection without risking messy feelings.

So you ask, “We’re building a good partnership in this, aren’t we?”

"We are," Steve agrees, his voice warm. "You've been incredible through all of this. I meant what I told the Santos’s - I couldn't ask for a better partner."

You feel a flutter in your chest at his words, but you push it aside. "I was thinking," you say carefully, "maybe we could try to spend a little more time together. Not more campaign events or strategy meetings, but... just us. Getting to know each other better."

Steve's expression softens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'd like that," he says quietly. "I think we could both use a friend who’s also in the eye of the storm of all of this."

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and nervous anticipation. He has Sam and Bucky on this campaign trail with him, but their roles are not the same, not giving speeches or being asked for comments.

"Maybe we could start with a meal a day? Just the two of us, no campaign staff or memos or prep."

"It's a date," Steve says. Then quickly adds, "I mean, not a date-date, but... you know what I mean."

You can't help but give a small laugh at Steve's flustered correction. It's endearing to see this side of him - the man behind the polished candidate facade.

"I know what you mean," you assure him with a warm smile.

Steve nods, looking relieved. "Good. That's... good." He pauses for a moment, then adds, "How about breakfast tomorrow? We have that early flight, but we could grab something quick before we head to the airport."

"Sounds perfect," you agree. "I'll meet you in the lobby at 6?"

"It's a plan," Steve says, his smile reaching his eyes in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

You both linger for a moment, neither seeming eager to end the conversation. His eyes are so blue, and when you're this close, and he just looks at you like that, your chest tightens in a pleasantly uncomfortable way that you're not ready for but can't pull away from.

Thankfully, Steve clears his throat. "Well, I guess we should get some sleep," he says, taking a step back. "Big day again tomorrow."

You nod, feeling a mix of disappointment and anticipation. "Always. Goodnight, Steve."

"Goodnight," he replies softly.

You unlock your hotel room door and step inside, your mind racing with thoughts of the evening - the Santos' advice, your conversation with Steve, and the promise of breakfast tomorrow. As you get ready for bed, you can't help but feel a glimmer of hope for what's to come, both for the campaign and for your relationship with Steve.

next part: coming 11/15...

SURPRISE CAMEO FROM THE WEST WING! If you're not a fan of the show, I didn't think it would be a problem - they're just a former Presidential couple. But if you ARE, then I hope you liked seeing them! I'm deep into my every-few-years (every four) rewatch and haven't bumped into them yet, but I'm about to...

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