#i did make a summary of art for 2022

[dailyedgeworth]

for some reason i don't think i posted last year's art summary??? here's this year's anyway

[munchboxart]

Yay I finally managed to make my 2023 art summary! First half of the year was a little disappointing looking back (in terms of both amount and quality). I think I managed to make more personal work this year, thankfully, which is what I wanted last year

[vitalverstappen]

Flash Forward - M. Verstappen (part one)

summary: The world of F1 is never easy. Throw in reuniting with your childhood enemy? You're in for a wild season.

pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!reader (Ferrari photographer, graffiti artist, child hood enemies), Charles Leclerc x platonic fem!reader

warnings: imposter syndrome, mentions of Jos Verstappen, borderline anxiety attack, swearing, drinking, allusions to sex, lots of pining, use of y/n

a/n: This was written with the 2022 season in mind. I also know nothing about the Belgian/Dutch school systems so I took what I know about the American/UK systems. Hopefully it makes sense! Some of the race results are inaccurate to fit the storyline. Sue me.

word count: 20.3k

masterlist

part two // part three

Max Verstappen. A name you loathed as a child. He was always on edge, striving to be the best in anything he did. It didn’t matter if it was a karting race or a math quiz, he had to be number one. Max knew what it took to succeed in life and he spent day in and day out making sure that he was ahead of the game.

He was an overachiever to say the least. 

Y/n L/n, on the other hand, was relaxed. She went with the flow of life, truly only trying when it was necessary, or if it interested her. The girl wasn’t lazy, she just knew that school wasn’t going to help her in the long run. She was a rule breaker, pushing everything and everyone to their limits. 

They were on opposite ends of any spectrum. 

Age 4

Art class was always your favorite time of the day. It gave you the freedom to express yourself exactly how you wanted - no rules to follow, no one hovering over your shoulder criticizing you. 

It was finger painting day, which you adored. An excuse to get messy, what child didn’t love that? Your fingers swirled across the page as the world in your head came to life with the paint. A castle in the distance as the prince and princess fell in love in the center. 

“What is that?” Max asked from the table across from yours 

A toothy grin formed on your face as you turned the page around to show him. “It’s a princess!” 

A laugh came from Max as he took in your painting “A princess? That’s so lame” 

Quickly, you turned your painting back around, as a rosy glow formed on your cheeks. “What are you painting?” 

Max held up his paper with the same goofy grin you had on moments earlier. A single green blob was on the page. “It’s a racecar!” 

“That doesn’t look like a racecar” You said as you grabbed some paint “ Let me help!” 

“No!” 

Max was too slow with his words as you took the paper from him. He could only watch in horror as you glided your paint covered fingers across the page. 

“There. A race car!” You exclaimed as you passed the paper back to the boy

“You ruined my painting!” He cried “Teacher! Teacher!” 

And that’s how you found yourself being lectured by your art teacher about how you needed to respect other people’s belongings. 

Age 8

As the two of you reached age 8, you each had found sports to fall in love with. In Max’s instance, he was forced into karting by his dad. You, on the other hand, fell in love with skateboarding on your own. Months were spent begging your parents to get you one after you saw a group of kids at a skatepark. For Christmas, your parents finally broke and got you a board to learn. 

Many hours were spent with one of your parents on the asphalt as they helped you learn how to skate properly. After what felt like decades with one of them holding your hand as you pushed off from the ground, you finally got the confidence to ride by yourself. 

A puffy blue jacket was wrapped around your body as you stood on your driveway. A chill rushed through your body as you strapped your bright pink helmet on your head before grabbing your board. 

Hours were spent practicing riding the board in straight lines, going back and forth on the driveway. Some runs were better than others, but you could feel yourself getting better as the day went on. 

The sound of engines quickly filled the neighborhood, a telltale sign that the Verstappens were doing their karting practice. Moments passed and the roar grew louder. It was a matter of time before they ended up on your street. 

Sure enough, you could see the Verstappen half siblings racing each other. The larger of the two, Max, was far ahead from his younger sister. You weren’t expecting Max to stop when he got to your house. 

“Skateboarding?” He asked over the sound of the kart “Isn’t that for boys?” 

You shook your head as you hopped back on your board “It’s for girls too!” 

“Yeah, and unicorns are real” He shot back. You couldn’t tell if you imagined it, or if Max truly had laughed at you as he revved his engine again before taking off, leaving you behind in a cloud of smoke. 

Age 12 

By the time you reached year eight, Max had been competing in national karting championships, leaving your interactions to be few and far between. You had continued your love of skateboarding and art, leaning into photography. 

Somehow you ended up in ownership of a cheap, small point and shoot camera. Regardless if the photos never turned out clear or if the battery ran out at the most inopportune times, you fell in love with the camera. It became a part of you, as your friends and family found it odd when you didn’t have the device in your hands. 

Your best friend Lindsay and her family had dragged you to the local karting track. Her brother was in the race, and Lindsay wanted someone to keep her company other than her parents. 

It was a rainy Sunday morning, but neither you or Lindsay cared. Rain boots splashed through puddles and mud around the track, as the two of you played games during the warmup laps. As the race drew nearer, the clouds began to part. 

“Lindsay!” You called, getting your friend's attention “I wanna take some photos!” 

“Okay!” She yelled back 

You quickly ran to get your camera, its bright red color sticking out of your bag. After you grabbed it, you ran back to where Lindsay was. She struck a pose with a toothy grinned smile. 

Click!

Giggles filled the air as the two of you looked at the photo. Your eyes were taken off the camera screen as the karts whizzed by. The karts captivated you, leaving you wanting more as they drove away.

You darted over to the fence, barely being able to stick your camera lens through the holes. Impatience grew as you waited for the karts to drive by again. A minute passed. Then another. Then the engines roared louder as you clicked your camera a few times. 

Once the karts rushed past, you jumped back from the fence. The screen showed the photos you had just taken. They were a bit blurry, but if anything it helped capture the speed.

When the race finished, you and Lindsay darted over to Parc ferme where Lindsay’s brother and his kart were. From a distance, you were able to watch as he climbed out of his kart, right behind the second place sign. 

Click! Click! 

The first place kart pulled up to its respective spot, and you couldn’t help but stare. Whoever was in the kart was a natural. All eyes were on him as he got out of his kart and threw his arms in the air in celebration.

Click! Click! Click!

The mysterious kart driver’s head whipped around when he heard the sound of your camera. When he finally found you, his helmet tipped in confusion, before he began taking it off. 

“Did you just take a photo of me?” The boy asked. Once the helmet was off of his head, regret filled your head. You should have never agreed to coming. 

“Uh yeah, Max. I did.” You answered

“Why?” He asked, causing you to shrug in response. You didn’t have a real answer.

“I just wanted to. I didn’t realize it was you” You spoke “Do you want to see?” 

“No.” Max answered bluntly before walking away. Typical. 

As the podium happened, you couldn’t help but to snap a few more photos of the top three. You hated that Max was the subject of most of the photos you took, but the excitement you got from snapping the raw emotions on everyone’s face made it worth it.

Age 16

When you reached sixteen, that love of photography grew, and you found a new love for graffiti, much to Max’s dismay. 

The sun was setting on the skatepark you had been practicing your tricks at all evening. When the lot finally emptied out of families and other teens, the sound of cans clanking filled the air as you dropped your backpack. You were never one to carry any books around, so you figured you’d make the bag useful for paint. 

You had been eyeing a blank spot on the base of a ramp the entire evening. After picking out the colors you needed for this project, you flipped your hood up and put on a mask, trying to hide your identity, and got to work. 

The sun was long set by the time you finished the base layers with only some of the details. The harsh lighting of the street lamp was your only help. Graffiti definitely took time, but it was time you wouldn’t spend anywhere else. Your artistry was stopped when you heard a familiar lisp. 

“Uh excuse me, you shouldn’t be doing that” The voice said. 

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Max. His intonation was recognizable from miles away. What did puzzle you though, was what he was doing out so late. 

Regardless, you ignored him, hoping that he would just mind his business and go away. But that’s not how Max worked. 

“You need to stop. That’s vandalism” He said again 

“It’s none of your business, Max. Go away” You finally spoke, turning around 

In the light of the streetlamp, you could see Max’s eyebrows furrow. He was along the sidewalk, not too close to you, but close enough to roughly make out his features. 

“Y/n?” He asked “What are you doing out so late?” 

“I could ask you the same thing, Verstappen. You’re never in town anymore” You said, tossing the can of red paint into your bag before picking up the light blue.

“I was out for a run. I have the week off from racing” He explained before his eyes left yours and back to the art behind you. “You do graffiti?”  

“And still doing photography.” You added “I’ll swing by and take some photos of this place in the morning” 

“You’re going to get in trouble” He blurted out. Some things never change.

A laugh escaped your lips as you turned back to your art, spraying on the light blue in the shape of a ghost. “That’s why I’m doing it at night. Fewer people around, less likely to get caught” 

“But you got caught. I see you doing it right now. I could call the cops.” He suggested 

“Be my guest.” You scoffed as you turned back to him “They have no proof it was me except your eyes. There’s no security here at all. No cameras or anything” 

Max opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He knew you were right. He would be the only witness, and you knew the police didn’t go solely off of that. Checkmate. 

He shook his head “Whatever. It better look good” He said as he started his run again 

“It’s not like you’re gonna be around here again anyway” You yelled after him before turning back to your painting of PacMan and his ghosts. 

The police sirens never did fill the air that night. 

You didn’t realize it at the time, but you were right that Max would rarely be around the town. While you barely graduated from grade school and dropped out after your first semester of university, Max broke onto the Formula One scene as the youngest driver in history. 

As you got older, you found yourself going out for spray painting adventures less frequently. You still loved the art of it, but turned to more legal ways of expressing it - by putting it on canvas. When you did put down the cans, you opted for a camera to fill its place. The point and shoot camera you got years ago turned into a high quality film one, which slowly phased into a DSLR. You adored your film cameras and loved being able to process your own photos, but digital photos truly captured your heart. 

You reignited your passion for sports photography from when you were younger. Any chance to photograph a sport, you jumped at it. Whether it was motorsports, soccer, or ice hockey, your favorite place to be was behind the camera, capturing the raw emotion of the athletes.

Age 24 // Sakhir, Bahrain 

Drills whirled as you walked down pit lane, each team perfecting their pit stop routines. You couldn’t help but stare as the team worked like a unit - moving in one singular motion. 

The first day in the paddock was overwhelming to say the least. There were so many new faces you had been introduced to, along with many rules that Annalese had word vomited at you. It was all hard to keep track of. 

You adjusted the collar of the bright red Ferrari polo that was underneath your camera strap. After countless rigorous interview rounds and portfolio submissions, the team finally offered you a spot on their photography staff. While you had loved jumping from sport to sport in the past, you were finally glad to have a home in Formula One. 

Both Charles and Carlos gave you a quick wave as you passed by the Ferrari garage. You had met them during the preseason meetings back at headquarters, and both boys welcomed you to the family with open arms. Annalease had mentioned you’d be working more with Charles, as he was your assigned driver, but there would always be opportunities to snap photos of Carlos. 

“And to our other side is the Red Bull garage.” She said as the two of you walked towards the blue terminal. She was finishing up your tour of pit lane, after starting from the very back of the stretch. 

You had expected the garage to be mostly empty, as you saw most of their team heading back to the Energy Station. A few engineers were left tinkering with the cars, getting ready for the first testing session. But a familiar blonde was standing in the middle of his garage, analyzing his machine. 

It was only a matter of time before you were going to see him, but you didn’t expect it to be on your first day. Years had passed since you last saw him - eight to be exact. Just like you had, Max grew up. His blonde hair was a little bit longer, but still just as neat as it was growing up. He had filled out his body more, his bobble head now looking normal sized. 

Max must’ve felt someone watching him, as his head snapped up from whatever he was looking at on his car. He looked around his garage before finally finding you outside of it.

“Y/n L/n?” Max asked as his eyes blinked a few times, clearly not believing what he saw. 

“Max” You replied, confirming it was in fact you. 

“Do you two know each other?” Annalese asked, her eyes moving from you to Max, and back to you.

“Yeah, uh, we were childhood…” You trailed off, not sure how to label your distaste for Max

“Classmates. We were in grade school together” The driver spoke. He walked from his spot beside his car towards the entrance to the garage, stopping only a few feet away from where you and Annalese were. “What are you doing here?” 

The camera in your hand seemed to grow heavier as you lifted it. “Photography. Ferrari hired me for the season” You explained, Max’s ears perking up in response. 

“Yeah, she’s the best one we’ve had in a while.” Annalease said before patting you on the shoulder, “Well I’ll leave the two of you alone to catch up”

You opened your mouth to protest both of her statements, but by the time you figured out how, she had disappeared into the Ferrari garage next door. Max was still looking at you as you turned your head back to him. As quickly as you met his eyes, you lost them as yours searched the area looking for something to talk about. 

When your eyes landed on his car, you spoke. “So number one, huh?” 

“Yeah, it’s still kind of unreal” He admitted, looking back at his car before turning back to look at you. You could tell Max was analyzing you, just as you did to him before he noticed your presence on pit lane. “So Ferrari photographer, huh?” 

A small smile crept onto your lips as you moved your camera away from your chest, revealing the team logo. “Yeah, it was a big step from what I’ve done in the past, but I hope it was the right one.” 

Max opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by one of his engineers. He turned to face the garage before looking back at you. “I gotta go. Last minute stuff before testing. I’ll see you around”

“I’ll see you around” You repeated before the two of you turned, making your way to your respective garages. 

Melbourne, Australia 

The early sunrise crept through your blinds, signaling it was time to get up. While you didn’t have much to do until media day tomorrow, you wanted to take advantage of traveling all around the world. 

After freshening up and changing into your bright red windbreaker, you creaked open your hotel door. It was still early, and you did not want to be the reason why the rest of the team woke up grumpy. The door shut silently behind you as you turned to find the elevators. 

“What are you doing up?” You heard, causing you to jump out of your skin. Down the hall was Max, leaving his hotel just as you were. 

“And what are you doing going around scaring people who are getting up?” You asked as you walked down the hall towards him and the elevators. 

He shrugged “I didn’t mean to. But seriously, no one except me is usually up this early. What are you doing out?”

“Going sightseeing.” You answered. You could hear the hum of the elevator from behind the doors. “What are you doing?” 

“Morning run,” He answered. “Why are you going sightseeing? It’s just a race weekend”

“Yeah, and it’s just my first time on the other side of the world” You chuckled. “How many times have you been to Melbourne?” 

“Uh I think six now?” He answered, though it sounded more like a question

The elevator dinged as the doors parted ways. Max followed you into the car as you hit the lobby button. 

“Six times, and how many times have you taken the opportunity to explore?” You asked. He was silent, the stare at the wall told you everything you needed to know. “Exactly.” 

Max was silent for a moment before finally admitting “I just never really knew where to go” 

“Come with me” You suggested, catching yourself off guard at your own idea. He despised you as a kid, there was no chance he would even think of saying yes. Max’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned to look at you. 

“What?” He asked, confused 

You had every opportunity to say literally anything else, forget that you even thought about hanging out with him. But there was something about the driver, maybe it was the glint in his eye, that prompted you to repeat “Come with me. See the city with me.” 

Max had never been one to cover his emotions, but standing there in the elevator with him, you had no idea what he was thinking. Seconds felt like hours as you waited for his response.

“Fine” He sighed as the elevator opened to the lobby “I can postpone my run a little bit.” 

You couldn’t help but to crack a small smile as the two of you walked out onto the streets of Melbourne. The phone in your hands guided you down the block to your destination. 

“Where are we even going?” Max asked, trailing behind you slightly “You better not be leading me somewhere sketchy”

“Don’t worry, I’m not. We’re going to graffiti alley” You told him. It had been a place you had dreamed of visiting ever since you started spray painting. 

Max stopped in his tracks, a new worry spread across his face. “Graffiti alley? Are you…?” His voice trails off as his eyes glance to your bag. He knew you were always one to express yourself through artwork, but he refused to be linked to any of it. 

“What? No. I mostly paint on canvas now. Besides, I wouldn’t want to cover anyone else’s work.” You answered 

Max didn’t know what to think. It had been years since he had spent more than five minutes with you, and most of that time was spent arguing or trying to annoy the hell out of you. But there he was, taking in the sight of you navigating through the hustle and bustle of Melbourne. You had grown up, just like he had, but unlike his wavering admiration for driving, your dedication to the arts never faltered. As you admired and captured the artwork spray painted along the brick of the buildings in the alleyway, he found his eyes landing on you more often. 

======

Race day could have gone better. While Charles finished on the topstep of the podium, both Carlos and Max were forced to retire. When the cars weren’t speeding past you on the track, you couldn’t help but to look at the photos you had taken earlier in the race. They were good but none of them truly stood out to you. 

Once the race concluded, you sprinted down pit lane towards parc ferme, where you happened to run into Max. 

“Hey! I’m sorry about the car. I’m sure you’ll get it next time” You said

“Yeah, I’m sure. But next time I’m not exploring the city with you” He replied, his voice lacking any emotion

As much as you wanted to ask him what he meant, you knew you had a job to do. Instead of pestering the man, you simply shrugged and continued your laboring sprint down to the cars. 

Miami, USA

Just like all those years ago, Max was right. 

The next time the twenty drivers met on the grid was Imola, where he finished on top of the podium. And sure enough, he did it without exploring the town with you. He was able to sneak through the paddock in Italy without seeing you once. It helped that neither of the Ferrari boys made it onto the podium with him.

But Miami was a different story. It was the first time Formula One made a stop in the 305, so it was no surprise that the media wanted to cover every step that each of these drivers took. Luckily for you, your job wasn’t with McLaren. You swore to have seen those boys in bedazzled crop tops and whispering to the tarmac with James Corden. Your job was just to cover Charles, something you’ve done all season. Unfortunately for you, when Charles wasn’t in the Ferrari garage, there was a high chance he was yapping to Max.

Charles had excused himself into the motorhome for a moment, leaving you and Max alone in the paddock. 

“Congrats on Imola” You said as soon as your coworker disappeared. “Shame you didn’t get to see the city. it was gorgeous” 

“Yeah, I had a lot of pre race prep to do.” He claimed. The glint in his eyes said otherwise. “But thanks, it was good to be back on the podium. It was way too long.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned your head to look at him. “Didn’t you win in Saudi Arabia?” 

Max chuckled before taking a sip of the Red Bull that was in his hand “I did. But still, it’s been way too long.” 

It was no secret that Max held himself to an extremely high standard. Even back in his karting days, you knew that if he didn’t win, he’d be training bright and early the next day. But you had a feeling there was something more to it that Max only let on through the way his expression hardened after the stifled laugh. 

It took everything in you to bite your tongue. The urge to pester him about what he really truly meant lumped in your throat, but you quickly swallowed it back down when you heard Charles leaving the motorhome. 

======

The Ferrari garages were buzzing as both of their drivers locked out the front row, and you were sure to capture the smiles on everyone’s faces going into the race. 

The hot Miami sun beat down on your neck as the smell of burning rubber filled the air. From the video screen you had seen Max had overtaken Carlos, giving you no surprise when you spotted his blue Red Bull creeping behind the Ferrari in first. 

Following in the footsteps of the other photographers, you lifted your camera to your face as the engine roars grew ever so slightly. As the cars made their way around the bend, you, along with the rest of the photographers, captured the battle in front of you.

Charles had put on a show defensively through the first eight laps, giving you plenty of photos that told the story of the fight. As the race egged on though, it was clear that Max was in the faster car. 

By the time you got to pit lane, Max had already crossed the finish line. However he was so far ahead it took a few more seconds to even get sight of Charles and Carlos behind him. When you did, one of the engineers helped you lean out of the pit fence to capture the moments the teammates crossed the finish line. 

Both the Red Bull and the Ferrari garages had a new life to them as all four of the drivers finished in the top four. Along with the engineers, you sprinted down to Parc ferme to celebrate with the sea of red. 

Sweat dripped down your forehead as you finally reached the end of pit lane. Annalese stationed herself by the “3” sign on the right side of Parc ferme, while you squatted by the “2”. As all three cars pulled into their respective spots, camera clicks and cheers filled your ears.

======

Although the two teams were rivals on the track, off of it the teams rarely had bad blood. The Grand Prix after party was no different. Most of your night was spent with Annalese, Charles, and Carlos, but you occasionally found yourself mingling with the other drivers team staff. 

As the night drew on and more drinks filled your system, you could feel the effects of the liquor take place. While the first few drinks you had filled your body with a sense of euphoria, the crash that happened after having more wasn’t worth the high. 

You had excused yourself from the Ferrari group, and you found yourself a secluded booth in the club as your heart sank. It had been at least a few years since you last felt the churning of your stomach, the echoes of your former friends filling your head. 

What were you doing in a club in Miami with a bunch of racecar drivers? This wasn’t the place for you. You should be back in your hometown barely scraping by as everyone around you fulfilled their dreams. You shouldn’t be here. 

The club around you moved in slow motion as you drowned in your thoughts. Every time you thought you were reaching the surface, another wave crashed down and filled your lungs. 

A body sat down across the table from you, but you couldn’t find a way to look up. A muffled voice droned on, though you couldn’t attach a name to either.

It wasn’t until you felt a hand on yours that you snapped out of the fog you were in. Max was sitting across from you, with his hand holding yours. His eyes were intense as he looked at you, genuine concern painted all over his face. 

“Are you okay?” He asked

You shifted in your seat, softly nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine” Your voice wavered more than you would’ve liked.

Max picked up on it as he argued a simple “No you’re not. I’m walking you back to the hotel” 

Before you could protest and claim you were fine, Max had already stood up, taking your hand with him. He led you through the crowd out to the humid Miami night. He respected you enough to not ask what was wrong, but giving you the space to talk if need be.

Neither of you said a word as you walked the few blocks to the hotel, but the silence was enough. His hand never left yours as he navigated the city, eventually leading you to the corner the hotel towered on. 

A thank you left your lips as he walked you to your door. You unlocked the door and began to walk in as Max went on his way to his own. The thoughts from the club still lingered in your mind as you watched him leave. Exhaustion from the long day mixed with your foggy state of mind engulfed you.

“Do you think I belong here?” You asked the man down the hall. Max stopped and turned around to face you.

“Well, do you think you do?” He asked, retracing his footsteps back to your door.

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned up against the cold door frame. “Honestly? I don’t know.” 

Max simply pushed open the cracked door, guiding you inside. You didn’t need to be stone cold sober to figure out what he was saying. Disappearing to the bathroom, you changed out of your little black dress into an oversized Ferrari hoodie and lounge shorts.  He was sitting on the edge of your bed, his eyes lingering on you as you joined him. 

The bed was softer than you remembered, but your senses were still fuzzy. 

“I’m not meant to be here” You blurted out. “That’s why I was out of it at the club, just getting in my own head.” 

Max was quiet as he took in your words. He knew better than to chime in, you needed to rant, and he was going to give you the space to do so, though he couldn’t wrap his head around why you chose him of all people.

“It’s hard, y’know? Seeing all your friends graduating from university and getting real careers. I tried it - couldn’t even make it through the first semester though. Don’t know why I thought I could do it when I barely graduated grade school” You admitted, running your hand through your hair as you talked

It may have been the drinks you had, but you could’ve sworn Max looked at you with a sense of pity. Even with balancing the challenges that karting brought, he had always been the top of the class, acing every subject that was thrown at him. 

“You still have a real career though” Max finally spoke “You’re doing photography for the most well known team in Formula One. People would kill to have your job”

A scoff left your mouth as you laid back into your bed, allowing the plush mattress to consume you. “Try telling my friends that.” 

Max’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned to face you “Do they not support you?” 

As much as you loved your friends, they were confused as to why you would want to abandon traditional schooling. They constantly doubted your talent, and ultimately thought running away to join F1 was silly. 

“It's complicated” You paused. “They’re happy I’m living my dream right now, but they just don’t understand why it’s my dream.”

Max couldn’t help but chuckle, causing you to sit up. “Sorry, it’s not funny, just a little something I didn’t think you’d be able to relate to.” 

While you didn’t know much about the Verstappen family,not that you tried to know anything, you were aware that Jos was a former Formula One driver. You were clueless about his record, or if he even won a race, but you deduced he wasn’t a World Champion. 

Before you could ask what he meant, Max spoke again “I do think you belong here though” 

Your voice was barely a whisper as you asked “You do?” 

He nodded, placing his hand on your shoulder, “Yeah, I do. I’ve uh… seen a few of your photos on the Ferrari socials and I think they’re incredible.” 

“Really?” You asked, your eyes meeting his 

Max nodded “Really. The way you captured the fight between Charles and I today was insane.” 

“Thank you, Max. It’s just hard when there’s so many other talented and more experienced photographers all around.” 

His hand moved from your shoulder down to your hip, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him. “If you weren’t this good at photography, you wouldn’t be here. F1 is for the best of the best, regardless of the job” 

A smile crept on your lips as you took in Max’s words. Once again, he was right. If you weren’t a great photographer, you wouldn’t have the job you do. A soft “thank you” escaped your lips before a yawn shortly followed. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed”

Monte Carlo, Monaco

Since that night in Miami, Max had been friendly.

The two of you had exchanged numbers in Spain, just in case you had another onset. Though you hadn’t felt the need to reach out, Max made sure you were comfortable in the paddock.

Whenever he saw you, he would go out of his way to say hi and catch up. Even if he was preoccupied and couldn’t say anything to you, he would make sure that he gave you a wave. You found him walking down pit lane more than usual, his eyes usually dancing around the Ferrari garages, as if he was looking for something, or rather someone. 

And when he did find you in the garage, you knew you were in for at least a thirty minute conversation. Topics ranged from his cats to any recent artworks you’ve done. Max insisted that it was because the two of you were “garage neighbors” and he wanted to make you feel welcome in the paddock. Just two childhood enemies slowly getting to know each other. Nothing more, nothing less. Though as the days in the paddock wore on, you found yourself looking forward to the interactions with Max. His visits were one of the only constants in the craziness of a race weekend. 

“What was that all about?” Charles asked as he watched Max leave his garage for the third time that day. 

“Oh nothing,” You answered, a small smile forming on your lips as you grabbed your camera from the table it had been sitting on “Just Max Veryappen doing his thing.”

Charles laughed, allowing you to snap a beautiful photo of the Monegasque. “He’s started ranting to you too? Good luck soldier” 

As you worked more with Charles, the more you found that you were alike. Both of you had an appreciation for the arts, and now were the victims to what the fans called “maxplaining”. 

“It’s not that bad” You replied, crouching down to get a good angle of Charles’ car. “He’s a nice guy.” 

The only sounds came from the clanking of metal in Carlos’ garage next door and the clicks of your camera. The silence was comfortable, both you and Charles knowing there was no bad blood about either of you choosing not to talk. 

“Waaiiit a second” Charles started, the wheels in his head turning slowly. “I thought you and Max hated each other as kids. How did you get to this?” 

A groan escaped your mouth, a result of the question and your knees flaring up as you stood up. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask” 

You recounted the events of that night in Miami, excluding your bout of imposter syndrome, playing it off as you being “out of it”. Charles listened intently as you told your story, a smirk forming on his lips as you finished. 

“So let me get this straight: Max willingly left the club early to walk you back to your hotel?” He asked 

“Yeah, that sums it up” You shrugged 

“And now he’s being all friendly and yapping your ears off multiple times a day?” He asked 

“Yes” You answered “Charles what are you getting at?” 

“He totally likes you” He said, his smirk from earlier now turning into a full blown grin

“What? Ew. No.” You physically had to take a step back from the driver, as if he was Max. “Max is just a friend.” 

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that” Charles spoke as he left the garage, knowing he was running late for a meeting

======

The race could not have been worse if you tried. From a front row lockout being torn away by multiple delays - including a red flag - and poor strategy decisions, the best Charles could do was fourth.

Rainwater sloshed in your shoes as you climbed the stairs to the paddock club. Fans were huddled inside to escape the rain during the third delay of the day. Any attempts to capture photos were futile as your camera lens was littered with raindrops. 

“I just know both of them are fuming down there,” Annalese said as you joined her on the balcony that overlooked pit lane. The two of you watched both Ferrari cars pull into their garages as the red flag waved. 

“Oh my god yeah, this was not how Charles was expecting his home race to go.” You replied, finally choosing to cap your lens

“The poor guy can’t catch a break,” She agreed

“And I know for a fact Max is down there throwing a fit. He always does when something doesn’t go his way.” You laughed motioning to the Red Bull garage. The image of  the driver complaining about the weather or claiming that Mick can’t drive caused you to shake your head. 

“Speaking of Max, what’s he been doing lurking around Ferrari?” Annalese asked

“Did Charles tell you to ask me about this? He was on my ass yesterday,” You joked “But it’s nothing. Max and I have just become friends. That’s all” 

“Oh really?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows 

“Will you stop?” You replied, a smile on your lips as you playfully flicked your boss’ arm. “There is nothing going on. I promise” 

“Well if there is, you better be the first one to tell me” She said, poking your side 

You quickly swatted her finger away, “You’ll be the first one to know.” 

While you didn’t get the chance to make it to the podium celebration, Max made it his mission to see you after the race. After scoping out the garage next door, he found you leaving the Ferrari motorhome, prepping to go back to the hotel for the night. 

“Hey y/n,” He said as you walked out into the night 

Your ears perked up as the sound of your name and your eyes landed on the Red Bull driver that stood at the bottom of the stairs.“Oh hey Max. Congrats on the podium” 

“Thanks” He said, a grin forming “It was a shitty race, but somehow managed a Red Bull double podium. How’s Charles been?” 

It was no secret that the Monegasque was always hard on himself, especially when driving through the grandstands he saw built every year as a kid. Just like any other driver, he wanted to win, and when a win slips from his grasp, he takes it personally.

“He’s uh, okay” You said, the memory of you consoling the driver replaying in your mind. “You probably know how he is better than anyone”

“He’s a tough kid, I’m sure he’ll be fine” Max assured you 

Relief washed over you when you realized he was heading the same way you were. The two of you made your way through the empty paddock, as most of the workers had left hours ago. Times like this made you thankful for street races, as your hotel was only a few blocks away. 

“Are you going out to celebrate tonight? I overheard Carlos saying he was going to Jimmy’z” You said 

Max shook his head “After how long today took? No. I’m going home and spending some time with my cats. What about you? Are you joining the team?”

“After what happened in Miami? No.” You laughed, though Max knew it wasn’t a joke. “I have a nice date with my bed, room service, and some shitty romcom” 

“Oh how romantic” Max joked, though secretly thanking the heavens you had no other plans. As he got to know you over the past few races, he found himself wanting to spend more and more time with you. 

“Shut it Verstappen.” Daggers shot from your gaze as you spoke, though you still had a smile on your lips “It’s not like I have anything else to do” 

A strange feeling curdled in Max’s stomach as he processed your words. 

“Come with me then.” Max blurted out without thinking, causing your head to snap towards him, surprise in your eyes. You weren’t sure if you heard him right. There was no way Max Verstappen invited you over to his place. 

“I’m sure Jimmy and Sassy would love to meet you. We can order takeout and watch your romcoms or whatever” Max continued, his eyes softening.

“Come with you?” You asked, taken back by his hospitality

“Yeah, you can meet the cats and show me the photos you took today,” Max said, motioning to the camera bag that was slung over your shoulder

“If you insist, though I don’t have any photos of you if that’s what you’re looking for” You said as you shook your head

“Fine by me” Max said as he led you off the smooth pavement of the paddock to the bumpy cobblestone streets of Monte Carlo.

Spielberg, Austria

The Red Bull Ring was scary. 

The second you entered the paddock, the feeling of a target being painted on your back lingered. Not that you did anything to deserve the feeling, the bright red of your shirt was enough to prompt the remarks. 

Somehow, it could have been worse. The words thrown at you were nothing compared to what Charles and Carlos had to endure. Mentions of their families, friends, and other loved ones filled your ears as you followed the duo down the paddock and into the Ferrari hospitality. 

“God that was brutal” Carlos said once the doors were fully closed 

“Are you guys okay?” You asked, your eyes darting back and forth between them. Normally the yelling you heard when clocking in for work were terms of endearment, not hoping for their downfall.

Charles ran his fingers through his hair as he sighed “Yeah, Austria is always tough with the fans. It’s nothing new” 

“Gotcha. I’m here if you need anything” You said, though your eyes darted to the doors the three of you just walked through. “Except now. I gotta go run to the garage” 

You could hear the two teammates laugh as you exited the building, finding yourself back in the thick of the commotion. Once out of the heat of the “fans”, you found a quiet spot off to the side of the Ferrari motorhome and took out a pad of paper from your bag. 

It wasn’t a complete lie that you had to go to the pits - there were always photos to be taken no matter what time of day. But you had a slightly different task that you wanted to accomplish before getting yelled at by the mechanics for getting in their way. 

Ferrari had announced that they would be doing a special livery for the Italian Grand Prix this year. While it wasn’t uncommon for the team to slightly deviate from the solid red paint for their home race, it was special that they made it a contest. All employees were allowed to submit an entry, and the best one would be brought to life on the car. 

So, on your notepad you sketched out the shape of the Formula One car, practically by memory. You had tried a few different ideas since the contest was announced, ranging from the Italian flag to all black, but none of them ever seemed just right. 

You scribbled away at a new concept, choosing to play into the yellow and touches of green in the Ferrari logo. With every stroke of the colored pencil, you would move your head back to take a look at your work. And with every stroke, you hated the livery design more and more. It didn’t help that it looked less and less like a Ferrari car and more and more like Senna’s helmet. 

It eventually got to the point where the design was so outlandish, you wanted it in the trash. Crumpling up the paper, you aimed for the waste bin a few feet away, only for it to hop off the rim and land on the pavement. 

A groan escaped your lips as you realized your error in judgment. Before you could stand up to take care of the litter, a pair of dark blue and white shoes stood next to it. 

“Need some help?” A lisp asked. Sure enough, Max stood next to the trash can, bending over to pick up the crumpled paper. “Are you trying to pick up basketball as a hobby now too?” 

You rolled your eyes as a playful smile formed on your lips. “No, Max. I was just trying to throw something away” 

He refused to acknowledge why, but there was something about the way you said his name that made his head fog up. It was like the feeling he got back in Monaco, but still something he had never fully understood. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he spoke. 

“What’re you even getting rid of anyway?” Max asked

“It’s nothing - it’s just - don’t worry about it” You stuttered out in futile attempts

He had already unraveled the crumpled paper, causing a warmth to rush to your cheeks. You were never one to share your artwork with anyone unless you were one hundred percent proud of it. But there you were, hopelessly sitting on a concrete curb as Max took in the monstrosity that was your doodle. 

Max thought the artwork was truly something out of a gallery. The way the green and yellow flowed together while still popping individually amazed him. 

“Is this a special livery?” He finally asked after what felt like years of silence

“It’s just a mock up” You quickly dismissed. “Ferrari is doing a contest for its workers for a special livery for Monza”

“I think it’s really cool” He said, his eyes not leaving the page. No one other than your art teachers growing up had looked at your work with such intensity. 

“Really?” You asked, shocked that someone would even like it. Max finally tore his gaze from the piece of paper to your eyes. When he did, you swore your heart skipped a beat. Blaming it on the nerves of someone unexpectedly viewing your art, you pushed the thoughts away. “I don’t think it’s bad, it just isn’t my style”

“If your style is the same from childhood, then no, it’s not” Max agreed “But I do think it’s good.” 

“Thank you” You managed to peep out. Receiving compliments about your work was never one of your strong suits, though the night in Max’s apartment seemed to help. As you flipped through the photos on your camera that night, he would praise every single one. You had convinced yourself he had done it just to be nice.

“You still do graffiti, right?” Max asked, taking a seat next to you on the curb 

“Yeah, but nowhere near as much as I used to,” You admitted. As much as you loved sneaking around the town in your teens, you were too old to risk getting caught and put behind bars. 

“Why don’t you try doing something with that?” He suggested “It would definitely catch the eyes of the higher ups” 

The thought of going back to your graffiti roots intrigued you. You weren’t sure how you were going to get street art onto a racing car, but it was a challenge you were willing to tackle. 

“Honestly, that’s not a bad idea, thank you” You said, standing up “Now I gotta go actually do my job, but I’ll definitely keep you updated.”

As you started to walk away, Max remembered why he sought out to find you in the first place. 

“Y/n, wait” He called 

You turned around to see Max quickening his pace to catch up to you. “What’s up?” 

“I uh, wanted to apologize” He said, slightly catching his breath “For the fans. I know they can be a lot sometimes” 

“I appreciate it. But I know it’s out of your control. Every fanbase is going to have the handful that takes it too far.” You replied. It was definitely tough being on the receiving end of it all, but you knew it was out of love for the driver. 

A smile formed on Max’s face, thankful that you understood. “I’m planning on making a statement by the end of the day. I know it’s taken a toll on a lot of the drivers and their teams” 

“Thank you Max. You’re doing the right thing” 

======

As the weekend went on, the comments from the crowd lessened. Max had posted a statement after practice, just as he said he would, and it seemed to work. 

What didn’t lessen though was the mushy feeling Max got whenever he saw you. 

He couldn’t describe it exactly. It’s like he wanted to be with you more, regardless of how much time you two spent together. His mind kept replaying the night he invited you over in Monaco. 

The way Jimmy rubbed up against your legs the second you walked in the door while Sassy observed you from afar, warming up to you only an hour later. The way your face lit up when Max asked to see the photos that you took from the race, even if they were all of Charles, Ferrari, and the cars in the pouring rain. 

And the way you explained the thought process behind each photo? Max could have listened to that for hours. He didn’t know a damn thing about lighting or the rule of thirds, but he was going to learn if it meant he could hear your voice. 

Max didn’t know what to call it. The funny feeling that made his stomach bubble up to his throat. He could tell it was the same feeling that clouded his mind, making everything just a little bit foggy when you were around, but also clear as daylight at the same time. 

Charles, however, knew exactly what to call it. When he saw Max first start poking around near the Ferrari garages just a little too often, he knew something was up. So, he decided to do what he does best, and pry. Fortunately, Max had left a can of his favorite drink in the Ferrari pit, giving Charles the perfect excuse.

“Hey, uh I think you left your Red Bull in my garage” Charles said as he walked down towards Max’s

“What? Oh, thanks. I was looking for it” Max said, taking the can before cracking it open

Charles leaned up against one of the support beams, fighting the urge to smirk “What were you even doing there anyway?”

Max shook his head, dismissing the question “Nothing, just catching up with some people” 

“Some people? You mean y/n?” Charles asked 

“Yeah, I mean, she’s a person too, isn’t she?” Max countered, confused why his friend was pressing him

“We both know she’s not just a person. Whenever she’s even remotely nearby, you’re right behind her like a lost puppy” 

“I do not” Max protested, knowing it was in vain

“So what are you going to do about it?” Charles asked 

“Do about what?” Max countered, refusing to fall victim to what Charles was trying to do

“Do about your feelings towards y/n” Charles replied. 

Before Max could think of a reason as to why he wouldn’t have any feelings towards you, his phone went off. 

DING!

Max first ignored it, thinking it was something from the team, and turned his attention back to Charles. 

“I don’t have feelings for -“

DING! DING! 

Two more notifications came through, prompting the Dutchman to pick up his phone. When he did, his heart stopped. 

You: Max 

You: I did it 

You: I think I created the perfect livery

======

You couldn’t find Charles anywhere, no matter where you looked. Hospitality? Nope. The garage? Not there. His driver’s room? Empty. Pierre’s garage? You honestly don’t even know why you checked there. 

As you couldn’t find the one singular person you needed to do your job, you took the opportunity to draw. You found a secluded area in the Ferrari hospitality to get to work. 

Instead of the bright yellow and green you chose earlier, this time you opted for the standard red, black and white. Your colored pencils moved freely across the sketch of the car, you didn’t need to think where to go. Your body just knew. 

Even though you didn’t have your hands on a can of spray paint, it felt right to get back into the thick of it. As much as you hated to admit it, you had to thank Max for the idea. You loved graffiti, but you didn’t think it would fit a Formula One car. But there you sat, finally looking at a livery concept that you were proud to have made. 

Your eyes drifted to your phone that was sitting only a few inches away from the paper. The memory of Max practically demanding to put his number in your phone after the whole Miami incident replayed in your mind. Should you? You two were now friends, right? It’s not weird for friends to text each other, right? The questions made your head hurt. Why were you getting nervous about texting your friend about an idea he came up with? 

Somehow, you shook the doubts of him making fun of you from your mind, and picked up the phone, sending your message. 

As you set your phone down, you couldn’t help but reminisce about that night in Monaco. Max welcomed you with open arms to his apartment, sharing a part of his life you never thought you’d get to see. You admired the way he cared for both of his cats, the two of them were his world, pampering them whenever he got the chance. And the way he listened to you ramble on about your silly little photos, knowing damn well he didn’t give a shit about your camera settings or how to get the best angle on track. 

It was nice to have someone to talk to outside of racing. As much as you loved the sport, it was hard that it took over your entire life. Any time your family called, all you could talk about was the most recent race, or where you’re traveling to next. Being able to talk to Max about something as simple as your photos was almost comforting. 

DING!

Your head snapped to your phone, and sure enough, he had responded. 

Max: Great! Can’t wait to see it :)

======

Once again, the race led to a battle for first between Charles and Max. You knew both of the guys did this for a living, but you were still amazed how effortless they were as they fought for the top step of the podium. While you didn’t know what problems Max was facing in the car, you knew through the many radio complaints that Charles was struggling with his. 

Even with the problems, the Monegasque managed to come out on top. You got to Parc ferme in the nick of time to get into position as Charles pulled into the center spot. Max pulled in on the left, and Hamilton on the right. 

The click of your camera was measly compared to the roars echoing behind you from the team as Charles stepped onto the car, fist in the air in celebration. You followed him, snapping a few photos as he hopped to the ground and ran to the engineers. From the way they embraced the driver, you would have thought it was his first ever win. It was a hard fought race, and Charles deserved every moment of euphoria. 

Before you knew it, Charles had gone to the stand where his hat and water were. The helmet and balaclava were soon off, as he replaced it with his cap. You snapped a few photos as you knew someone from the socials team would post it for the girlies. Backing up to get a better shot, you felt your body press up against someone. 

“I am so sorry” You said, turning around. That someone happened to be Max. He was sweaty, his face beat red and hair all messed up, but somehow he never looked better. The thought of taking his photo then and there crossed your mind, but you refrained as you felt a warmth on your cheeks. “Congrats on P2” 

“Thanks” He replied, slowly finding his breathing

“Now get over there with your boyfriends” You joked as you pointed to Charles and Lewis who were already in conversation about the race. 

The Dutchman made his way over to the other drivers, and you snapped photos as he congratulated Charles on the win. You couldn’t hear what was said between the two of them, but they glanced at you before Charles broke out in laughter as Max’s face turned even more red than before. 

A smile formed on your lips as you looked through your viewfinder and focused on the two boys. Parc ferme and podium were always your favorite part of the race, as the pure joy from the driver’s accomplishments always seemed to radiate through your photos. 

You were able to squeeze yourself into the perfect spot front and center for the ceremony. Though the barrier dug into your side, it was a small price to pay for the photos you got. 

A few photos were snapped of Lewis when he walked out to ensure that your settings were just right, but as Max was announced, you couldn’t help but put your camera down and watch. His piercing blue eyes scanned the crowd for something, focusing when he finally found you. 

He didn’t know why he was searching for you, it just felt right. 

Maranello, Italy

The plan was to spend summer break back in the Netherlands. 

But that was all before you got the call that your design had been chosen for the Monza livery. 

Now, your break was spent in the factory in Maranello, painting the livery yourself. The livery designers figured it would be easier for you to do the work yourself, rather than fall flat on their attempts to replicate the art.

You didn’t mind it at all. In fact, you were ecstatic that you were able to paint the car yourself. It had been a while since you had a can of spray paint in your hand, and you were itching to graffiti again. 

The downside to constantly being in the factory though was that it was mostly just you. While the engineers popped in occasionally to say hi and see what you were up to, none of them were people you were super close with. 

Annalese and a few of the girls from the social team stopped in before you even touched the car, hoping for a promotional opportunity. They had bought you a white tarp that you spray painted the Ferrari logo on, hanging it on the wall. 

With the graffiti in the background, you snapped photos of spray paint cans littered around the blank bodywork, and the social team took no time posting it on all of their accounts. 

When their job was done, they left, eager to enjoy their summer break. Turning around, you were faced with the daunting task at hand: painting two Formula one cars that were going to be out on the track in a matter of weeks. 

The bodywork in front of you seemed to come to life, as the engine intake hole glared at you. It was as if the car was daring you to try to touch it. What were you doing about to paint a racing car? You weren’t qualified for this, not too long ago your canvases were literal brick walls. 

The temptation to call Annalese and make up some lie about why you couldn’t do the livery anymore grew. You picked up your phone, ready to make the call, only to find a text. 

It wasn’t unusual. Ever since you texted about the livery, the two of you were in almost constant communication. Whether it was racing, the cats, or what movies you had been watching, you guys always had something to say. But as it turns out, you seemed to forget to tell Max a small piece of information. 

Max: Y/n Y/l/n. 

Max: What is this? 

Attached to the text was a screenshot of the post that Ferrari had made, teasing about the livery.

Max: Tell me this means what I think it means 

You were tempted to mess with him and lie. Say that you had no idea what the post was about and someone else won the contest. He would definitely see right through you, so your fingers hovered over the “call” button, pressing it before you could think twice. 

Max thought he was dreaming. It started with seeing the familiar Ferrari logo graffitied on a bed sheet. Now, after a series of texts, your contact is the one trying to call him. He let a few rings go by to collect himself before clearing his throat and answering.

“Hello?” He asked, praying that the pounding of his heartbeat wasn’t heard from the other end

“Surprise?!” You replied, your voice showing the small smile on your face

Max sat up in his sim chair, his attention fully focused on you “So you did it? You won?” 

“Yeah, I’m in the factory right now about to start” You said, the pit in your stomach growing again

“That’s exciting! How’re you feeling?” Max asked 

A sigh escaped your lips, just audible enough for him to hear over the phone. “Nervous. I don’t wanna fuck it up.” 

“You’ll be fine” He said

“But what if I mess up” 

“You won’t.” He reassured. He knew you were a natural when it came to art. No matter the canvas, you’d make it work. “Treat it as if it were a wall or ramp. Something you’re used to spray painting.” 

“Okay” You said, your voice now down to a whisper. Silence overcame the two of you as you debated what to do next. The bodywork in front of you was still intimidating, but having Max on the other end of the line seemed to help a little. “Do you think you could stay on the call while I start? Just for a little confidence boost?”

“I wouldn’t want to do anything else” Max said, his smile even wider than before.

Both of your hearts were pounding out of your chests, nerves swarming your systems for very different reasons. Out of all the people in the world, you had picked Max to calm yourself. Something neither of you would have imagined twelve years ago. Through the speaker, Max could hear the sound of a can rattle, then the spray of its contents. Then, silence. 

“It’s started” You finally spoke

======

As summer break wore on and you spent more time on the livery, the calls with Max became more frequent. It all started with just wanting someone to talk to so you weren’t completely alone with your thoughts, but it quickly grew to you wanting to specifically talk to Max, learn about his day and everything going on in your life. In short, his voice quickly became your favorite sound. 

And Max wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He always loved talking to you. So much in fact, he gave you a specific ringtone so he could ignore all of the other notifications that rolled in. 

Every time the two of you called, staying up way later than either of you would have liked, the warm fuzzy feeling Max got intensified. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe he did have something for you, though he wouldn’t dare acknowledge it by its full legal name. 

Little did he know, on the other end of the line, the same thoughts were racing through your head. He was your comfort as you navigated through the challenge of painting the cars. He was the face you always looked for when you ran around the paddock. He was the person you wanted to be with. 

Twelve year old you would have thought you were crazy if you told her you were crushing on Max Verstappen. He was a bully, a pain in your butt, the worst person you knew. But as a twelve year old you didn’t know that people change. You had, and so did Max. He grew into someone you admire. 

The Netherlands

As much as you loved being in Italy, you were glad to finally have a few days visiting your family in the Netherlands. The Belgian and Dutch Grand Prixs were back to back, and both were close enough for you to spend the two weeks in your childhood home. 

The biggest perk to being home had to be the family dinners. You missed the hearty home cooked stick to your ribs dinners that your mother made, and the memories that were created around the dinner table. Of course, the conversation was never dull either. Tonight’s topic? A certain Dutchman. 

“So, have you seen Max at all at work?” Your mother asked. She was aware of your childhood rivalry with him, but you failed to update her on any of the recent developments. Your mother was convinced the two of you would eventually become close, and you were scared she would blow it out of proportion.

Picking at your food on your plate, you answered “Uh yeah, actually. We’ve seen each other a lot. He’s become a really good friend” 

Your mother’s eyes lit up as your words hit her ears . “Oh really? I’m so glad. You know I always thought the two of you were meant for each other-”

“I know, mama. You reminded me almost everyday” You said, half joking

“You know he’s in town, right?” Your father asked “I saw Jos earlier today and he mentioned he was visiting family for the week. Same thing you are.” 

As you registered what your father said, your head snapped up from your plate. “Really? He’s here?” 

“Why are you so excited? Do you have a crushhhh?” Your little sister teased

“What? No” You lied, silently praying you were convincing enough “I’m just surprised he didn’t mention that he’d be home. That’s all.” 

The dishes were done at a lightning speed. As your family was settling in the living room for their nightly routine of watching cringey game shows, you darted up to your room, grabbing your phone that rested on the bed. After a few rings, Max’s voice filled your room. 

“Hello?” 

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be home” You said, completely disregarding his greeting 

“You’re home too?” He asked

Before you knew it, you made plans to meet Max at the local ice cream shop. He had already gotten you a double scoop of your favorite flavor, something he had learned from the countless conversations you had. For once he wasn’t wearing any sort of Red Bull merch, and you couldn’t help but stare as you greeted him.

“Hey stranger” You said as you approached the table Max was at 

“Long time no see” He replied, handing you your bowl. “How’s everything?” 

“Good! I was able to finish the liveries before the end of summer break. As fun as it was, I’m glad it’s off my chest” You admitted 

“You take any photos of it?” He asked. It was a question you had heard countless times from him. Almost every single time you talked, he begged for a reveal of your artwork, and everytime you turned him down. It frustrated him to no end that you wouldn’t share, but you insisted that it needed to be a surprise for everyone not associated with Ferrari.

“Yes I did Max,” You answered, his face lighting up “No, you can’t see them” 

The smile on his face dropped a frown as he registered what you said “Why not?” 

“Because it’s classified information. If you wanted to see what it looks like early, you should’ve joined Ferrari” 

As the night drew on, the air got colder, prompting the two of you to go back to your childhood home. Your family greeted Max as if he was one of their own before you made your way up to your bedroom. 

The room Max walked into was honestly everything he had pictured it would be. Photographs and artwork that he presumed were yours covered the walls as an easel along with plenty of paint supplies tucked in the corner. 

“Sorry if it’s a bit crazy. I actually haven’t been in here much since I moved to Italy.” You said as you followed him into your room. 

“You don’t need to apologize. I like it” He said as his eyes took in everything

“Thanks. Make yourself comfy” 

Max didn’t waste any time as he plopped himself on your bed. You followed suit, placing yourself next to him, with just enough space in between you two. Every urge to rest up against him was fought, as he was doing the same. 

“If you had told me when we were kids that I’d be spending time in your childhood house, much less your room, I think I woulda puked” Max laughed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “We’ve come a long way since then”

You chuckled as you spoke “You’re telling me. I never thought I’d be excited that Max Verstappen came back to town.” 

“Funny how life works. Maybe we need to go to the old skatepark to see if your artwork is still there” He said 

“Maybe,” You paused as you looked at the framed photo of the Pac Man ghosts that hung on your wall. “Thank you, by the way.” 

Max’s eyebrows furrowed as he turned to face you. “For what?” 

“For not calling the cops that one night when I was spray painting. If I was caught, I definitely would’ve gotten arrested” You admitted 

He knew you were right. If he had made the phone call instead of continuing on his run all those years ago, things would be different. Much different. 

“It’s nothing, really. You were just trying to express yourself. It’s not like you killed someone” Max finally said 

“True. Anyway, how’s being home been?” You asked, trying to think of anything to change the topic

“Pretty good. I’ve been mostly spending time with my mama. I rarely get to see her during the season, but she’s always been one of my biggest supporters.” He said, a soft smile playing on his lips

“What about your father? I feel like I see him at almost every race.” You said.

The second you finished the question, you wanted to stuff the words back in your mouth, swallow them, and pretend you hadn't said anything. Max’s eyes glossed over at the mention of his father as you cursed yourself for ever bringing him up. 

Cautiously, you placed your hand on top of his. Playful flicks and friendly hugs were common between you two, but you weren’t sure how he’d react to touching your hand, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to. If you don’t want to talk about it-”

“I don’t see him much outside of racing” Max said as he flipped his hand over to take yours. His calloused fingers brushed against the softness of yours. “He just really cares about the on track stuff.” 

You didn’t dare say anything, if you knew anything about learning the deeper parts of someone, it was to let people share when they’re ready. Your eyes lifted from looking at your hand being intertwined with Max’s, up to his face. His gaze was already focused on you. 

“It’s been tough.” He admitted “Living out my father’s dream. Having all of this pressure on me to perform well and exceed expectations. I just wanted to have fun racing around a track.” 

If there was anything else you knew about letting people share, it’s that you needed an out when they got a little too deep. From the way you spiraled yourself, you could tell Max was on the cliff edge, moments away from diving in. 

“I think you have” You spoke softly

“What do you mean?” Max asked, causing him to snap out of his dive at least temporarily 

“Let me show you” You said getting up from your spot on the bed. It stung a little as you dropped Max’s hand, but it would be worth it in a moment. 

You couldn’t find it at first. Max watched as your eyes darted around the room, searching for something. After a few seconds, the object became clear as day, though in front of it was your old red point and shoot camera. Moving the camera, you grabbed the old photo book that rested behind and returned to your spot next to Max.  

Max watched intently as you flipped through the book. Childhood memories were immortalized in the photos in front of him. What your old childhood photos had to do with him enjoying racing, he had no idea. 

Until you found the photo. 

“Is that me?” He asked. A young boy in a race suit with his hands in the air stared back at Max. There was a glimmer in the kid’s eyes that could be seen through the helmet on his head. The memory of Max getting mad at you for taking the photo was foggy in his mind, but the photo in front of him negated any doubt of it happening. 

“Yeah, it was the first time I took photos of racing” You admitted “I think we were both like twelve” 

He tore his eyes from the old photo of him back to you. “You kept it all these years?” 

You nodded as you took the photo out of its protective sleeve and gave it to Max. “It’s one of my favorite photos, but I want you to have it. I think you need it more than I do.” 

Max couldn’t believe what was happening as his heart was on the verge of exploding. Your favorite photo, which happened to be of him, was being gifted to him. The woman who dare he say has a crush on, kept a photo of him for the past twelve years. 

“Thank you” was all he managed to whisper

“Of course Max” You replied, taking his hand again

Zandvoort, The Netherlands 

Getting to the podium was all you wanted for the weekend. 

Regardless of who was on it or what national anthem was being played, you wanted to be at the podium of your home race. But as life, and your job, would have it, the podium was the last place you were needed. 

It all started with Charles’ team having to replace the entire power unit and gearbox, causing him to start at the back of the grid. He managed to finish in sixth which was big for the team, but still a long way away from being on a step. 

Carlos did make it to the bottom of the podium and after pestering a few of your coworkers, you convinced one of them to swap media duties with you. They covered Charles’ debrief while you took the podium. However, your coworker forgot to tell you he didn’t know how to do a driver debrief, so you were stuck with Charles.

What made it worse was that the winner happened to be the hometown boy. In the distance, you could hear the Dutch national anthem as you were stuck filming Charles’ PR written reasons for why the car was shit. 

Max assumed you were going to be swarmed with the celebrations, as you wouldn’t shut up about how much you wanted to be involved with them at your home Grand Prix. He couldn’t find you in parc ferme, assuming you got caught in the foot traffic. But as he took to the top step of the podium, he scanned the crowd, paying extra attention to the Ferrari team, only for you and your camera to be nowhere to be found. 

Both of you trudged through your post race routines, longing for a minute to see each other. As Max worked his way through the media pen, he couldn’t help but hope to get a glimpse of you. You hadn’t replied to his text, and he knew calls were out the window on race weekends. 

The sun had long set by the time the two of you were relieved of your duties. You made your way out of the Ferrari hospitality, eyes sore from staring at your laptop screen editing photos. As you made your way to your car, any sense of exhaustion washed away as you found Max in the parking lot. 

“Congrats” You yelled as you darted to him

Max stopped in his tracks when he heard your voice. Sure enough, as he turned around, you were jogging straight to him, arms wide open. He flung his open just in time to catch your hug. 

“Woah there, thank you” Max said, relieved that you were okay. “What’ve you been up to? I was looking for you all day” 

Max Verstappen had been looking for you all day. Taking a deep breath so your heart wouldn’t jump up out of your throat, you composed yourself and pulled away from him. Genuine concern played in his eyes. 

“I would’ve texted but I got so wrapped up with doing Charles’ post race media and then editing photos.” You sighed “I am so sorry I missed the podium. I truly wanted to see you… and hear the Dutch anthem again.” 

“You don’t need to apologize, hopefully you’ll hear it again before the season ends” He joked “In all seriousness, you’re all good.” 

Max paused, as if he was contemplating something. The sound of cicadas filled the warm summer air as Max debated with himself. After a few moments, he spoke again. 

“If you want to, and only if you want to, you can help celebrate by joining me out at the club tonight. Red Bull is going out to celebrate the win.” He offered 

It was your turn to have an internal argument. Going out with Max and celebrating his much deserved win sounded fun, but lingering in the back of your mind was Miami. 

“Fuck it” You blurted out, startling the driver “I’ll go, but I’m not drinking too much” 

“Deal. Let me know when you’re finished getting ready, and I’ll pick you up from your room.” He said, leading you to your car. 

You had never gotten ready faster in your life. Max was a patient person, but you absolutely hated making anyone wait for you. Sending him a quick text, you did once last look in the mirror. A quick knock was placed on your door, peeling you away from your reflection. 

When the door opened, Max felt his heartbeat slam on the accelerator. The shorts you were wearing were very short and the top didn’t leave much to the imagination. Not that he minded the change, it was just an outfit he didn’t expect you to wear. Outside of the bright red Ferrari polo and khakis, you mostly donned some sort of oversized shirt and sweats. Comfort was usually your top priority. 

The confidence you had when you answered the door wavered as you caught Max staring. “Is it okay? It’s not too much, right?” 

His head snapped up from your body to meet your eyes “No no not at all. You look amazing actually” 

As quickly as your confidence faltered, it grew right back hearing Max’s reassurance. Little did you know he was fighting every bone in his body not to turn you around and make a night out of you and the bed. 

While you had partied with Red Bull in the past, nothing prepared you for the scene in front of you. Bottle service was in full swing as every single team member had a glass of something in their hands. 

Being the reason why the team was celebrating tonight, Max got whisked away from you almost as soon as he walked in the door. Luckily, you spotted a few of the Red Bull photographers and social media team members, giving you a group to go to. You had gotten close to them over the course of the season through media collabs between Ferrari and Red Bull. 

“Y/n!!” Meg yelled as soon as she spotted you. “You look hot!” She embraced you in a hug, as did Jess, Sofi, and Becca when you made your way through the crowd. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sofi asked as the two of you pulled away

“Max invited me” You yelled over the boosted bass, “Some of his engineers nabbed him as soon as we got here though” 

“So you finally got the nerves to tell him how you feel?” Jess asked as she handed you a cup

As the drink burned your throat, you quickly pieced together it was a vodka cranberry. “No, I haven’t said anything to him.” The four girls exchanged knowing glances as you continued to sip on your drink. “What?” 

“You mean, he asked you to come celebrate with him even though you have no affiliation with the team, and you haven’t confessed your massive crush on him?” Sofi asked 

“Yes?” You answered, unsure of where she was getting at. 

“He totally likes you” Becca spoke this time

Cheers erupted in the building, and you turned to find Max up on someone’s shoulders. He was double fisting drinks - two gin and tonics most likely - looking like he was on cloud nine. 

“I don’t know” You said, peeling your eyes away from the sight in front of you and back to the girls “I feel like he would have said something, he’s a blunt guy” 

“Yeah with everything except how he feels” Jess said “Just trust us” 

The rest of the night had been a blur. At some point, your group made its way to the dancefloor, taking any and every drink a team member would offer you. The five of you danced with each other, as well as anyone who would even remotely get close. Everything blended together into one foggy echo. 

At some point, a pair of hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to whoever they belonged to. A chorus of drunken giggles filled your ears as the girls in front of you smiled and waved, leaving you alone with the person who was behind you. You couldn’t help but to lean back into the person, as the feeling of calloused and scabbed fingers traced your exposed skin. 

Leaning your head back to get a look at whose hands were on your body, you found Max’s beaming blue eyes staring back at you. Nothing was said between you two as swayed up against his body, knowing exactly where it was rubbing against. 

Stifled moans escaped Max’s lips as you danced against him. He didn’t know how many drinks he had at that point, all he knew was that he needed to be with you. And by the way you melted into his body, you needed him just as badly. He planted a soft kiss on your neck, sending a chill down your spine and his name breathily coming out of your mouth. 

Now Max wasn’t an asshole. He wasn’t going to take you in the state you were in and do anything. That just wasn’t the type of guy he was. But as you rubbed up against him, he wanted nothing more than to drag you to the bathroom. 

The last thing you wanted was the night to end. Max was finally all over you, his hands exploring every inch of your body that he could in public. Drunken kisses were planted on both of your bodies, landing anywhere but each other's lips. But as the music lowered, and the lights in the club slowly started to turn on, it was only a matter of time before the pace shut down. 

“You wanna get out of here?” Max whispered in your ear before placing his lips on your cheek. 

Nodding your head, Max took your arm and led you out into the night. The darkness of the night sky was quickly replaced with yells and camera flashes. 

“Head down” Max instructed, his hands never leaving yours “Can never escape the fucking paps” 

The flashes continued as Max guided you into the taxi. Sighs left both of your mouths once the door finally shut. 

“I am so sorry about that.” Max apologized “Thought I could have one fucking night without them” 

“Maxie,” You began, the nickname you had given him rolling easily off of your tongue. “It isn’t your fault. You don’t need to apologize” 

The two of you tumbled out of the taxi and into the elevator of your hotel. His arm was wrapped around you as you leaned into his side. The tension thick between the two of you, but neither of you dared to move. A ding filled your ears as the elevator landed on your floor. 

“Thank you for the invite, I had a really fun time tonight” You said as Max walked you to your door. 

“Of course, anything to spend time with you.” He said. Just like you, he didn’t want the night to end. Whether it was the amount of liquid courage still in his system or what, he spoke. “Do you wanna spend the night? Only if you want to, of course.” 

You tried not to act like you had been waiting for this moment all night. Your eyes broke from Max to your hotel door, back to Max, as if you were debating your decision. 

“I mean, I guess it is safer to be with someone in case anything happens…” You pondered, even though you were fully aware you were going to say yes. “I’d probably be up all night in my head if I didn’t have anyone to keep me company… Yeah I’ll stay with you” 

Max tried to hide his smile as you accepted his invitation, guiding you only a few doors down. He slid the key card into the slot, easily unlocking the door in his fuzzy state. 

When he offered for you to stay in his room, you weren’t expecting a whole suite. The living room alone was around the size of your entire hotel room. 

“Go to the bathroom and get yourself ready for bed, I’ll slide you some of my clothes to wear” Max said as he motioned to one of the doors - the bathroom you presumed. 

You did as he said, and as you fought to get your makeup off with a ratty wet tissue, Max knocked on the door. As you opened it, he handed you one of his shirts and shorts to sleep in. As you walked out of the bathroom, you made your way to the couch, before getting stopped by Max.

“No, you get the bed. I’ll take the couch” He insisted, gently placing his hand on your back and guiding you to the bedroom. 

Exhaustion from the events prior washed over you as you climbed into the bed, not even bothering to argue with him. You crawled under the covers, getting nice and comfy, as Max watched over for a moment, making sure you were okay. 

The all too familiar warm and fuzzy feeling grew in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t just the alcohol. All he wanted to do was join you in bed tonight, letting you climb into his arms, but he knew better. The couch was his tonight. Max turned to shut out the light and close the door, but failed to even get there. 

“Max?” You asked, your voice barely audible. At first he thought he was hallucinating, only turning when he heard his name a second time. 

“What’s up, y/n/n?” He wasn’t expecting you to scoot over in the bed, eyes heavy as you pulled the comforter back. You didn’t say a word, only patting the empty spot in bed next to you. 

Part of him knew he shouldn’t. There was a perfectly good couch for him only a few feet away. But he couldn’t say no to you, you were his weakness. Against his judgment, he climbed in the bed, as you snuggled into his arms. 

======

It was early when the sun broke through the curtains, waking you up. It took you a minute to remember where you were and how you ended up in a hotel room that wasn’t yours. Max was still asleep next to you, arms wrapping around you like you were his personal teddy bear. 

You needed to get out of there. And fast. 

Not to say that you didn’t enjoy the events of the evening prior, you definitely did. It was just the thought of being anything more than friends that quickly made your stomach churn, and you were positive it wasn’t from the amount you drank the night before. You were one to take your time when it came to dating and relationships, and whatever was going on between you and Max was moving full throttle. Someone needed to slam on the brakes. It wasn’t going to be Max. 

You managed to lay perfectly still as you took in your situation. Max’s clothes covered your body as yours were probably still in the bathroom across the suite. The gesture was nice at the time, but as the cotton in his shirt mixed with his own body heat, you were suffocating. 

The task at hand felt like something out of a sitcom. Somehow you managed to wiggle your way out of Max’s arms without waking him. It was graceless, yet better than a bull in a china shop. 

But you did it, navigating your way through the suite to the bathroom to find your clothes drunkenly thrown on the floor. You internally chided your past self for the messiness, but changed into the clothes nonetheless. Leaving Max’s outfit from the night before folded on the couch, you slipped out of his hotel suite unnoticed by him. 

Your eyes darted both ways down the halls as you closed the door behind you, thankful that no one was up this early. As you started to walk down the hall to your own room, you heard someone’s throat clear. 

“What were you doing in Max’s room?” 

Turning around, you felt like a deer in headlights as you met Charles’ eyes. He came up to you, clearly just finished getting ready for the day, taking in the sight before him: you in your clothes from last night, makeup probably still half on, and frazzled. An amused smirk formed on Charles’ face. 

“He finally did it, huh?” He asked, crossing his arms 

“I promise it’s not what it looks like” You defended “I swear he just let me stay the night. We did not have sex.” 

The driver muttered a curse under his breath, “Guess I owe Carlos twenty now. Shouldn’t have believed the stupid gossip pages” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in what he said “You follow the gossip pages? And you two were betting on me?” 

“The betting is all in good fun, but yeah, the accounts are very entertaining. You and Max are all over them right now.” 

Charles took out his phone and after a few taps, he flipped it around. On the screen was a carousel of photos featuring you and Max at the club from the night before, ending with a photo of you holding hands. As you read the caption, your heart stopped. 

New WAG Alert! Max Verstappen is officially OFF the market! He was seen last night in a club in Zandvoort with a new mystery lady. Max girlies, how are we feeling about this?

Edit: The mystery girl has been identified as Y/N L/N, a team photographer for Ferrari, and good friends with Charles Leclerc. How are you feeling about romance being added to this rivalry?

“Oh this is bad.” You muttered, taking a step back from the driver. “Charles, this is bad.”

“You’re going to be fine, it's just a silly little rumor. It’ll pass within the week.” He reassured. He was no stranger to the gossip page rumors, but unlike you, Charles was used to the unwanted attention about his love life. 

“I don’t think you understand, I could lose my job. Ferrari is the only thing I have going for me right now!” You panicked, running your hands through your hair, trying to calm yourself 

“Does it state in your contract you can’t have anything with any drivers?” Charles asked 

You paused, trying to think of the day you signed your life away to the team, but you were drawing a blank. “Is it bad I don’t remember?” 

“Exactly! It’s not your problem right now.” Charles said, hanging his arm around your neck “Now let’s go get breakfast while you tell me everything, Mrs. Verstappen”

======

On the other side of the door, Max had woken by the opening and closing of doors in his suite. It took him a moment to piece together what happened, and the night leading up to him being alone in his bed. HIs heartbeat skyrocketed as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. You, happily staying the night in his arms, only to dart out before he could even wake up. What the hell did it all mean? 

Monza, Italy

The Red Bull Ring had been child’s play compared to Monza. While rival drivers didn’t endure the threats like Spielberg, everywhere you looked, Tifosi donned the Ferrari red. Chants supporting Charles and Carlos broke out whenever any of the fans spotted them, making it a place you hoped you would never have to enter wearing another team's gear. 

It didn’t help that everyone in Ferrari was slightly on edge. Carlos and Charles wanted to perform in front of the Tifosi, the engineers wanted to make sure the car was in top shape, and you were worried about the release of the livery that was dropping later that day. 

Even though you were the one who painted the livery, seeing it in the garage was surreal. Your artwork had finally finished coming to life and was on display for everyone to see. 

Being in Monza meant the media duties increased by tenfold. You didn’t mind, as it gave you the opportunity to work more with the team, and an excuse to avoid Max. 

You hadn’t talked to him since that night in Zandvoort. He didn’t bother to reach out, so neither did you. It stung at first, not talking to the one who quickly became a close friend, but as each day passed, everything got a little easier. 

The garage was bustling with engineers and mechanics making sure the cars were in perfect condition for the weekend ahead. You were squeezed in there as you were in charge of filming the drivers’ reaction to the livery. Your stomach twisted as you walked down the hall of the garage, where you met Charles. 

“Hey, are you ready?” You asked 

Charles gave you a quick hug before pulling away “Hey, yeah, it’s just looking at the livery, right?” 

You nodded as your stomach started to churn “Yep. And please be genuine. No hard feelings if you don’t like it” 

“I’m sure I’ll love it. You know I love your work.” He praised. It was genuine, you knew he loved seeing your art just as you loved hearing him play his music. 

“Thank you Charl. Now I’m gonna count down from three, and when I say go, I’m going to start recording. Do the usual intro spiel and then pretty much say how you’re feeling about seeing the new paint.” You briefed him. It wasn’t his first time filming one of these, but you always reminded him how to do it just in case he decided to forget.

“Oh, and you only have one shot to get this right, so you better not fuck it up” You teased as you took the lens off of your camera, sticking it in your pocket. 

“Got it, I’ll be sure to do my worst” Charles joked. As you set up to start recording, panic filled Charles’ face “Wait. Can I practice once?” 

“Yeah, of course” You said

The driver quickly went through his spiel, looking to you for help on the words he couldn’t remember the direct English translation to. When he was confident enough in what he was saying, you angled your camera, ready to record. 

“3… 2… 1… Go” You counted down, starting to walk backwards down the hallway. When you first started doing things like this, you were always scared of tripping over something or hitting the walls. But at this point, you had done the backwards walk so many times that you could do it in your sleep. 

“Hi guys. Charles here. It’s media day here in Monza, and it’s my first look at the special livery for the race. Our photographer Y/N designed and painted it, so if it’s anything like her paintings, it’s going to be amazing. This year is super special for Monza as it is its 100th year of operation. I can’t wait to see what the car looks like” Charles said, causing a small smile to form on your lips.

As you rounded the corner into the garage, through the camera screen you could see Charles’ face light up. He took in the sight in front of him before speaking. 

“Wow. This is incredible” He complimented “Y/n you really outdid yourself with this. I hope you guys enjoy seeing the car as much as I am excited to drive in it. See you next time. Ciao guys” 

You moved yourself to get a view of the car that was in front of its driver. After holding the position for a few seconds, you stopped recording. 

“And done” You said, allowing Charles to turn toward you

“How was that?” He asked. His eyes begged for validation that he didn’t ruin any content being posted. If there was one thing to know about Charles, it’s that he wanted the best for everyone on the team, regardless of their position. 

“You did great” You assured him “I’m glad you like the livery. It means a lot” 

“Of course! I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true” He said as he pulled you into a hug 

Before you could thank him again, the sound of laughter filled your ears. Laughter from a voice you hadn’t heard in a week. You quickly pulled away from Charles as your heart pounded out of your chest. 

“Pretend I’m not here” You instructed the driver before ducking behind a stack of tires in the corner

On the other side of the tires, Max entered the Ferrari garage. He assumed you would be around, as you were normally on media day. But to his surprise, you weren’t one of the many people packed into the terminal. Luckily for him though, Charles was there inspecting his car. 

“Hey mate” Max greeted “The car looks sick.” 

“Yeah it does.” Charles agreed “Y/n did a hell of a good job on the design”

“She did. But uh speaking of y/n, have you seen her anywhere? I haven’t been able to find her” Max asked. There it was. 

A silent prayer left your lips as you waited for Charles’ response. He wasn’t usually one to lie, but hopefully he made an exception for your sake. Otherwise, it would be real fun to explain why you were hiding. 

“Not recently, no. Last I saw of her she was in hospitality doing some editing. Lots of content needing to go out with it being Monza weekend.” Charles answered

“Ah I get it. Thanks anyway” Max replied. The sound of shoes scuffling filled the garage as the two drivers said their goodbyes. 

“He’s gone!” Charles called in the direction of the tire stack

As you crawled out from behind the tires, you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. For the third time that day, your arms wrapped around Charles as a chorus of thank you’s left your lips. 

“I genuinely owe you Charl, thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t think I would have been able to face him.” You said as you finally pulled away from him 

“Yeah, of course. Is everything good between you two?” He asked, his tone filled with concern more than anything else

“I just realized some mistakes that happened last weekend.” You admitted “Meddling with anyone in the workplace just isn’t my thing” 

Even though the confession wasn’t to Max, it still felt good to get some of it off your chest. You should have never let your feelings get involved in work. You knew better than thinking they would mix well. 

======

The free practice sessions came and went, with both of the Ferraris looking strong. So far, you had managed to steer clear of Max. Most of your time being spent in the hospitality suite or trackside, as far away from the Red Bull garage as possible. 

Avoiding Max had given you ample opportunity to perfect your camera settings, as well as your editing presets for Monza. The race was a big task, and you wanted to make sure you delivered. 

But you knew it was only a matter of time before you ran into him. You had been assigned to cover the Fan Stage interview with the Ferrari drivers. As fate would have it, the combined interview with Red Bull and Haas was scheduled right before. 

As you and the Ferrari boys arrived, the four drivers wrapped up their interview and headed off the stage. There were only a handful of people backstage dressed in red, making you stand out like a sore thumb. You tried to blend in with the rest of the media team, but Max spotted you instantly, causing you to drop your head, pretending to look at past photos on your camera. 

As Max’s gaze landed on you, he could feel his thoughts disappear as his mind fogged up. He wanted - no, needed - more of that night in Zandvoort, but the two of you had to talk first. As he slowly made his way to you, his hands grew sweaty and he could feel his heart pound like a ticking time bomb. 

“Y/n! Hey, how’ve you been?” He asked, quickly pushing his nerves aside as he approached you

Your eyes quickly darted to Charles for assistance,  who only gave you a pity look. Some help he was. You shifted your weight, steadying yourself as you finally made eye contact with the man you’ve been avoiding. 

“Hi Max.” You answered

He repeated the question, “How’ve you been?”

You didn’t want to have a conversation with him. Not right now, at least. Not in front of everyone while you were working. If you were going to talk, it had to be in private, off the clock, when you were ready. So, you mustered out an “I’m sorry, I can’t really talk right now. I’m working” As you lifted up your camera, hoping he would get the hint. 

Being a guy, he of course didn’t have a clue on what you were trying to do. “Right. I just wanted to congratulate you on the livery. It looks amazing.” 

Before you could even think of a response, the sound of the host’s voice filled the speakers. “Now the duo you’ve all been waiting for. Tifosi, please welcome Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz of Ferrari!” 

The fans erupted as you gave Max a soft smile. “Thanks, but I have to go. I’ll see you around” 

Max watched as you followed the Ferrari boys up the stairs, focused on the camera in your hands. Questions of where he went wrong filled his mind as he tore his gaze away from you and made his way back to Red Bull.

======

While it wasn’t the double podium the team and the Tifosi had hoped for, both drivers made it into the top four, with Charles landing P2. 

You arrived at Parc ferme long before any of the drivers pulled in, giving you ample time to set up. The roar of the crowd sent a shiver down your spine as Charles pulled his car into position. If this was what it was like for him to be second, you couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he reached the top step. 

Hearing the Dutch national anthem was not on your ideal to do list for Monza, but you still trudged through the formalities of the podium. Max’s stare was fixed on you, burning like lasers, but you didn’t dare meet it. There were more important things to be done. 

Suzuka, Japan

Japan was easily the most miserable Grand Prix of the entire season. While the country was beautiful and the fans were amazing, everything in the paddock made it unbearable. The only bright side on the weekend was that your contract got extended for the next two seasons.

Yet again, everyone in the Ferrari garage was stressed, Charles especially. It was the second race that Max could win the Driver’s Championship, only needing to out score Charles by eight points. 

On top of the Driver’s Champion pending to be named, your plan to avoid Max the rest of the season had gone terribly wrong. The dark skies and rain showers didn’t help either. 

It started on media day, when Charles and Max had been put in the same group. Being forced to follow Charles around while being in the same proximity as Max was enough. The boys didn’t help in that they were constantly glued to each other's sides. 

Max nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard about that round’s groups. Being with Charles meant you weren’t too far behind, giving Max the opportunity to test the waters with you again. 

His first goal was to get you to wave. Max and the rest of his group were leaving a press conference, causing you and the other photographers to hurry outside. You were getting ready to snap photos of Charles, but Max was not too far ahead of him. The wave was subtle, you honestly almost missed it, but you replied with a simple head nod. 

That head nod was enough of a greenlight for Max. The next step was to get you to actually talk. 

As the group moved between media areas, Max found you talking to Charles. While from the back of the group he couldn’t tell what you two were talking about, from the way you were laughing with the Monegasque, he knew it wasn’t anything serious. Max’s suspicions were confirmed as he ended up in the middle of the group and discovered the topic of conversation.

“I don’t understand how you don’t think spaghetti is good” Charles said “It’s a classic” 

You laughed, shaking your head “I never said it wasn’t good. I said that I think it’s an okay shape. It just doesn’t hold the sauce as well as cavatappi or penne” 

“You better not say that when we’re back in Italy. They’ll chase you out of the country” Charles joked 

“No shit, Sherlock. Why else do you think we’re talking about it here?” You said, a smile plastered on your lips 

“But do you think cavatappi or penne is better at holding sauce? They both have a tubular shape” Max asked

Your head whipped around to find Max behind you two. Looking at Charles for help, the pity in his eyes only screamed “be nice”.

“Cavatappi” You answered, your words lacking any of the enthusiasm you had before, “The spiral helps keep the sauce in”

Max was oblivious to the silent conversation you and Charles had prior and the change in your tone, but he was sure as hell over the moon that he got you to talk. 

======

As media day pushed on, you were reminded of every reason why you liked Max. From the way he held the door for you to the way he listened to you intently as you gave instructions for a photo. Maybe Charles was right, maybe you needed to be a bit nicer. 

The day was wrapping up, only giving Max a handful of chances to talk to you again. He caught you alone outside of the Ferrari garage in the pit lane. Your attention was on the phone in your hands, most likely at the content from the day. Should he say something? You looked busy, he didn’t want to annoy you even more. Before Max could decide what to do, he heard your voice. 

“Max, hey.” You called as you approached the Red Bull driver

“Oh uh hey” He replied, caught off guard by your sudden friendliness “How’s your day been?” 

“Pretty good, honestly” You answered, your tone much warmer than it was earlier in the day. “Always love media day. There’s always something to do” 

“Yeah, I guess it's nice for you, with the job and all. I always just want to get in the car and drive” He spoke 

Max continued to listen as you told him how the season has been from the garage next door, and through the lens. You recounted some of your favorite stories, including the time that you and Charles pranked the PR team into believing he had gotten into an argument with one of the members of the British Royal Family.

Neither of you were sure how long you stood there talking, but you had a feeling it had been a while. The sun had moved slightly in the sky, as people passed the two of you as if you were a road obstacle. 

It wasn’t until the paddock opened up to the fans with pit lane tours that you realized it had been at least an hour. The sound of camera clicks and bright light flashes filled the air as the fans took in the sights of their favorite teams garages. 

“Well, I should probably get back to work. The content doesn’t make itself” You joked “And plus, I’m sure some of the fans would love to meet you” 

“Yeah, I should go say hi” Max agreed “I’ll see you around” 

A silence overcame both of you, trying to figure out what to do. As much as you wanted to wrap your arms around him and wish him well, your gut begged you to walk away. The boundary needed to be set. You listened to your gut, opting for a wave before disappearing into the red painted garage. 

======

The hot tea burned your throat as you took a sip. You were always impatient waiting for the liquid to cool down, to the point that it was a part of your nighttime routine. 

Photo editing was one of the last things you did every night - giving you plenty of time to reflect on your work. Every photo got the same treatment of applying the preset, then adjusting the settings as needed. It was the perfect mind numbing task right before bed. The routine this time was broken up by the sound of your phone going off. 

DING!

One of the silly photos you had taken of Charles popped up on your phone screen, followed by the words “Have you seen this?”

The photo that accompanied the text was a screenshot of the stupid F1 gossip page that Charles was obsessed with. Their most recent post had been a photo of you and Max from earlier. 

Max Verstappen and his alleged girlfriend, Y/N L/N, a Ferrari photographer, were spotted along pit lane earlier today. Fans at the Japanese GP Pit Lane Walk said both of them were in deep conversation, only focused on each other and completely oblivious to the outside world.

You nearly choked on your tea as you read the caption. They weren’t wrong that you had been completely lost in chatting, but they didn’t need to call you out on it. They also didn’t need to continue assuming you and Max were dating. 

A curse left your lips as you thanked Charles for keeping you updated. It pained you to come to terms with, but you couldn’t have Max in your life. He needed to stay just another F1 driver. 

======

The rain egged on as qualifying rolled around. As boots splashed through muddy puddles, you were fortunate enough to be in the garage and along the pit wall. 

Someone was approaching, the squeaks of wet shoes on the epoxy floor getting louder with every step. Annalese found you crouching on the floor of the garage, trying to get some aesthetic photo of the tires. 

“Hiding in the tire stacks again?” She asked 

Standing up from your squat, you turned to your boss, “Charles told you about that?” 

“Yeah, honestly it was kind of funny” Annalese chuckled 

Your jaw dropped. Your coworker was a blabber mouth. “That’s ridiculous. I can’t believe him.” 

“You better. He’s a total gossip” She said, taking a pause before speaking again “But that’s it? You and Max are done?” 

“You can’t be done with something that never even started” You retorted “It was a fun one off thing, but I can’t have some driver messing with my work.” 

======

Somehow, the rain turned into a torrential downpour come race time. The red rain jacket on your back was soaked from the short sprint between Ferrari’s hospitality and the garage. A shiver crept down your spine as the cold droplets fell on the limited exposed skin

“I cannot believe they’re racing in this shit” You muttered as you entered the packed garage. ‘

Mechanics and engineers alike were huddled for warmth around the TV for the race start. You opted to stay in the garage and photograph their raw reactions instead of risking damaging your camera. 

When two o’clock hit, it was lights out and under a yellow flag, the cars took off. You were so used to the high speeds that you couldn’t help but chuckle seeing the cars practically crawl. 

The chuckle quickly silenced as a Ferrari car crashed into the boards. All eyes were on the screen as everyone was trying to figure out which of the cars it was. Seconds felt like hours before the team announced it was Carlos that had crashed, leading to a slight sigh of relief. Charles was still in the fight. 

Fortunately Carlos was okay, but he wasn’t the only one who had starting errors. Albon and Magnussen had connected, and it appeared Vettel had some damage as well. Just as quickly as the race began, a red flag led to its delay. 

You watched as the cars pulled into pit lane, giving you the opportunity to snap photos at an angle you wouldn’t normally get. 

After multiple failed restarts later, the race had resumed. A little over thirty minutes were left in the three hour time limit, meaning every single second mattered for the Driver’s Championship. 

Max was the first one to cross the finish line, with Charles not too far behind. Max hadn’t won the championship, at least yet. 

You emerged from the cave (otherwise known as the garage) for the first time all race to be at Parc ferme. Max’s eyes lit up the second he saw you, but you were too focused on Charles to even notice. 

Like usual, the post race interviews were zoned out. Once you've heard someone talk about why they could or couldn’t drive properly, you don't need to hear it again. That is until Charles’ five second penalty was announced. 

Cheers broke out on the Red Bull side of Parc ferme, while the Ferrari staff exchanged glances. There was no possible way that Max Verstappen won his second championship over a simple penalty. But there he was, celebrating with his team. 

As he was engulfed by his engineers and mechanics, he couldn’t help but to wonder what it would be like to have you on that side of the barrier, celebrating with him. 

The formalities of the interviews wrapped up, letting you turn to the rest of the Ferrari team. Somber looks filled their faces, and as much as you hated to do it, the scene did paint a pretty photo. 

“So that’s it? It all came down to a penalty?” You asked once you removed the camera from your face 

“It all depends on if the FIA chooses to give full points or not for the race” One of the engineers responded 

Time stood still as everyone on every team waited for the stewards’ final decision. There was a silence in the air that you had never experienced before, as if everyone was holding their breath. 

The TV screen changed from an early played graphic of the potential Driver’s Champion, to live footage of the Driver’s cool down room. 

“Max you have to” A lady off screen must’ve motioned to the room around the corner

“See what’s there?” Max asked, a puzzled look on his face as Checo made a remark about him being the World Champion. “But I’m not” 

Another man off screen told Max to go to the room, leading him to question again. “But I’m not.” 

“Yes you are” 

“I am? You sure?” 

The roar that followed from Red Bull was almost deafening. Engineers and mechanics were on each other’s shoulders as they celebrated their driver. A mere twenty feet away, no one in red dared to make a sound. 

As podium procedure ensued, it took everything in you not to keep your eyes on Max. He was the main attraction after all. His eyes crinkled as his name was announced and his smile only grew wider once the trophy was in his hands. Pulling your eyes away from Max was tough, but once you eventually did, you focused on Charles and got back to work.

His only goal of the podium was to meet your eyes. Max scanned the Ferrari red, searching for the lens of your camera. With no surprise, it was angled to his left, directly at Charles. As the Dutch and Austrian national anthems droned on, Max couldn’t take his eyes off of you, while you fought every bone in your body not to meet his. 

======

You had never been happier than the moment you were done with all of your post race duties. The paddock still had people in it, most of them also making their way out for the weekend, and you were able to slip past Red Bull without seeing a particular World Champion. 

That is, until you got to the parking lot. 

Wet gravel crunched underneath your shoes as you made your way through the lot, careful not to ruin the pair of black and red Puma’s on your feet. Chatter from the people around you filled the air, one voice making an already terrible day even more miserable.

“Hey!” Max’s voice filled the parking area

He’s talking to someone else. Keep walking. 

“Y/n!” Max yelled 

Just don’t answer. He’ll go away. 

“Y/n!” 

Max’s walk quickly turned into a jog, trying to catch up to you. You could hear his footsteps quicken on the wet gravel, but you couldn’t get yourself to walk any faster. 

“Y/n. Why won’t you talk to me? Did I do something?” Max asked, grabbing your wrist

“Well the whole world thinks we’re dating right now but we’re barely even friends.” You replied, finally turning to face him

Max’s head tilted slightly “What are you talking about?” 

“That night in Zandvoort. It was a mistake, Max. I wasn’t ready then and I’m still not now. Congrats on the championship. I’ll see you around.” You answered, yanking your wrist out of his grasp before finally making your way to your car.

The wallet in his pocket grew heavy as he watched you walk away. The photo of the young boy rested inside of it as an aching reminder. 

[alicenpai]

forgotten playthings, forgotten child 🧸

Jack from my series Lost & Found Children 🤍🖤

i hope to showcase more of my ocs in 2024 hehe! im FINALLY getting around to finishing art i left to rot in my folders (the pandora hearts drawing last month being one of em). if you saw the WIP of THIS particular drawing 2 yrs ago... no you didn’t 💔

my charas are very personal to me, but tbh ive always been a bit hesitant to share their stories. over time i realized ... it’s kind of a shame to not make art from one’s heart. which is something i regret a lot year after year whenever i make my yearly art summary reflection. i'm like damn i need to make more emotionally evoking pieces!!! so i'm gonna keep going in 2024 with that in mind ❤ i have to admit, although this drawing started 2 years ago, and there's a lot i would do differently if i were to supposedly draw it now - this concept goes pretty hard.

the final drawing stayed pretty close to the original concept which im so relieved for! i think part of the reason why i left it on the backburner for so long, was the fact that i included so many details, and i was unsure of how to colour the "background". (not to mention stuff like cons & real life getting in the way).

i'm glad for discovering a really handy watercolour brush, it's helped me a lot in my last few drawings, bc i dont have to colour in each detail. especially since the witch hat atelier: eternal ephemera zine piece i did. otherwise if i coloured this back in 2022 with my usual method, i'm pretty sure i really would have included a shading and highlight layer for each individual toy... HAHAHA. much to think about

oh yeah and in the last few days of drawing this i was listening to some visual kei bands. i love how some of the band members literally have been performing since like the 90s or something and DO NOT AGE and are literal vampires. every so often i fall back into visual kei (you can tangentially thank aggretsuko although yes i know it's not the same). and i kind of realized. i like Jack's edgy design so much because he looks like. a visual kei esque vampire.

[yukiwhitetm]

5 Tim Drake-centric Must Reads: Animals/Non-Humans Theme

Find all my Batman – All Media Types fic recs here.

Find post 5 Tim Drake-centric Must Reads here.

Find post 5 Bat Family Must Reads: Former Robins And Their Kids +1 Undercover Dick Grayson here.

1.

two against the world by carolinaa

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types  

Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Gen, Complete Work

02 Jul 2022

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Jim Gordon

Accidental Dog Acquisition, Tim drake needs a dog idc. Idc, Child Neglect, Hurt/Comfort, Slowburn Found Family, Fluff and Angst, Summer Vacation, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Attempted Kidnapping, Tim Drake Needs a Hug

Summary:

“I’m Tim,” he says, though introducing himself to a puppy makes him flush in embarrassment. “Are you hungry?”

The dog blinks at him, all scared eyes.

“Where’s your family?” Tim asks. “Did they leave you?”

(Or: Tim Drake finds a friend.)

Language: English Words: 36,752 Chapters: 4/4

Yuki Note:

(My original note on this:) An expectedly brilliant story full of angst and drama but a very happy ending!

I read this quite a while ago but this still leaves such an impression on me. This is Tim getting the doggy love he’s always needed, which slowly leads him to the family he’s always deserved. As a ‘Tim Joins the BatFam Early’ story, this one is brilliant. Sweet, fluffy with just the right amount of angst but an excellent happy ending.

2.

Tim The Dragon Tamer by CatSaucEe

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)  

General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Gen, Work in Progress

01 Aug 2023

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain, Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Duke Thomas & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Duke Thomas,

Tim Drake, Tim Drake's Parents, Bruce Wayne, Janet Drake, Jack Drake, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Alfred Pennyworth

Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe – Fantasy, Alternate Universe – Dragons, Dragons, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe – Medieval, Tim Drake-centric, Canonical Character Death, Tim Drake Trains Dragons, More Like A Dragon Crash Lands Into His Life, Alternate Universe – Magic, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, BAMF Tim Drake, But Also Awkward Tim Drake, Human Disaster Tim Drake, Tim Drake Has Secrets, It's Dragons, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Good Sibling Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Worldbuilding, Inaccurate Descriptions Of Monsters, I basically made up shit, Not Canon Compliant, Digital Art, Damian Wayne Has a Heart

Summary:

Tim's never seen one before, usually cooped up in his house with a servant coming by his home once a week to drop off supplies that'll keep him well fed until the next week. But he has read books, and sometimes, he imagines himself encountering one and fighting them with blades, like brave knights do to earn their glory.

A dragon bleeds out on the floors of his home, and all he has is a book, and no sword.

-

The Kingdom Of Gotham is often riddled with creatures good and bad, mostly bad. The dragons that pass over Gotham, harass the Gothamites, and pollute the air with smoke and smog are no exception, and one knows better than to confront one unless you are a hunter.

Except one night, when a dragon crashes into the home of one Timothy Drake, everything changes.

Part 1 of Tim, The Dragon Tamer

Language: English Words: 47,678 Chapters: 10/11

Yuki Note:

(Although, this says it still has one chapter to go, this one feels pretty complete to me! It’s fully readable now!)

I cannot recommend this one highly enough! I truly believe this story is a hidden gem. I mean, it has dragons, Tim as a dragon rider, dragon hunters, the Bat Family as knights, grappling with right or wrong (are the dragons their enemies or not?), secrets and secret identities (if I remember correctly), and a big final battle. What more could you ask for? This is one is wild ride!

Honourable Mention

before we get into all the Mer AUs

Get Familiar With Me by JUBE514, SalParadiseLost

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types  

General Audiences, Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gen, Complete Work

25 Apr 2024

Tags:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth

Magic AU, Witch & Familiar AU, Witches, Familiars, Alternate Universe – Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Soul Bond, Resurrected Jason Todd, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, magical systems, Witch Dick Grayson, Witch Jason Todd, Familiar Bruce Wayne, Familiar Tim Drake, I squished their ages a bit

Summary:

Every witch needs a familiar, but not every familiar needs a witch. Tim, recently orphaned and freshly adopted, is a familiar that doesn't need a witch, but he needs to be a witch. Because Bruce Wayne, America's most famous familiar, only keeps company with witches. Dick is a witch. Jason is a witch. Robin is a witch.

Tim *needs* to be a witch.

But when Tim's mistakes begin to stack up, his big lie starts to come crumbling down, and his place in the family goes with it.

Language: English Words: 12,665 Chapters: 1/1

Yuki Note:

Since we are about to have three Mer AUs in a row, I thought it best to include another story in a different universe. Witches and Familiars might only come under the category of Animals/Non-humans if you squint but I think it's nice to have one more story that's not a Mer AU just in case you're not into that.

In this universe of witches and familiars, Tim is a familiar pretending to be witch because the Bat Family already have a familiar in Bruce and certainly don’t need another in him. He’s always hidden this by pretending to just be bad at magic/not found his skill yet. Only, it starts to become a problem when Dick and Jason notice issues with their magic from Tim supplying them with too much on top of Bruce’s existing contribution so they suspect Bruce is ill – dying! Now, the angst is nigh as Tim has to decide, which is more important, his security in the family through keeping his little secret or relieving everyone’s worries about Bruce's health… but risk him being thrown out. Useless, unneeded, a hindrance not a help.

Honestly, this is such a fun read! A brilliant one-shot that I highly recommend! Check it out.

3.

Redfish by Bionerd2Point0

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types  

Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, Gen, Complete Work

20 Nov 2020

Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas

Alternate Universe – Merpeople, Merpeople, Mer!Jason, mer specialist!Tim, Aquariums, Past Rape/Non-con, animal cruelty, Captivity, Mpreg, Pregnancy, non-graphic childbirth, implied depression, attempted drowning, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Language Barrier, Sign Language, mersong, they sing, it's a thing, Happy Ending, intersex mers, Pods

Summary:

Strapping the goggles and mask on, he gave the all-clear and hopped into the water. It was practically frothing with bubbles, and if the situation were less serious he might have made a joke about Finding Nemo and a bubble volcano, but as it stood he could barely see a thing and his anxiety was sky high.

Studying mers for upwards of a decade had given him a healthy respect for how dangerous they were when humans threatened their territory, let alone when they were brooding with a grudge. He wanted what was best for Big Red, and he was absolutely certain that Red did not know that yet. He’d feel a lot better about all this if they could actually see the mer, but with how frothy the water was, Tim could barely see two feet in front of him.

He had a desperate, fleeting hope that he wasn't about to be murdered, but the shifting shadows around him weren't very promising.

Part 1 of Free Willy: The Mer Edition

Language: English Words: 22,355 Chapters: 5/5

Yuki Note:

This is a bit of an odd one. But it’s all in good fun. Jason is a pregnant mermaid/merman/merfolk/mer - yes, you read that right, he’s a pregnant cis male mer, but keep in mind he’s not human here so mer biology can work differently to human biology – and Tim is a mer specialist and, to a lesser extent Steph and Duke are humans helping him too. Throughout this story Tim and Jason bond as podmates (i.e. brothers of different species) even in the aftermath of Jason’s sexual assault by another mer as Tim fights for Jason to be released back into the ocean with his pod (in other words the other Bat Family members). If you are OK with pregnant Jason who has his baby in the actual story with allusions to his past sexual assault, then go ahead and try this one! Despite its odd details, it’s a good one and I do recommend it.

4.

Loch & Key by jayburb (toothpasty) for periwinking, usogao, riiverton

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types  

Not Rated, Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gen, Complete Work

29 May 2023

Tags:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth

Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd

MerMay, MerMay 2023, Alternate Universe – Fantasy, inspired by loch ness, Loch Ness Monster, No Slash, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, Inspired by Music, Cryptid Bruce Wayne, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drowning, Near Death Experiences, Tim Drake-centric, Tim Drake Angst, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Spooky, H2O: Just Add Water References, You'll know it when you see it

Summary:

The legend of Loch Gotham says that any child left on her shores will be taken by the guardian of the lake.

Tim Drake decides to test that theory.

Language: English Words: 12,514 Chapters: 3/3

Yuki Note:

This is a sweet story of how Loch Gotham monster or mermaid/merman/mer Bruce (with the help of the mysterious Alfred) takes young kid Tim away from his absent parents to become his youngest son. They don’t do it immediately, though – at times, I felt the pacing was a little slow but still enjoyable. They wait and watch and see if Tim is really in need and then they offer him the option to join them not just steal him away from his home. It’s told in three parts from Tim’s perspective as he slowly learns about the mystery of the Loch Gotham monster with his camera in hand. Highly recommend!

5.

shallow water blackout by envysparkler

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types  

Teen And Up Audiences, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Gen, Complete Work

24 Feb 2021

Tags:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne

Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne

Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe – Merpeople, Human Tim Drake, Drowning, Exhaustion, Enemy to Caretaker, Mer Jason Todd, Selkie Dick Grayson, Selkie Bruce Wayne, Implied/Referenced Torture, Selkie Damian Wayne

Summary:

Tim is peacefully enjoying a lazy summer afternoon on the ocean, when something large and shark-like nudges the bottom of his boat.

It’s not a shark.

Language: English Words: 17,402 Chapters: 3/3

Yuki Note:

This is Titans Tower Mer Edition! Basically, human Tim joined the selkie Bat Family after mermaid/merman/mer Jason died. But now Jason is back and out for revenge on this selfish little human who took his family away from him! So, when Tim is out in the boat on a nice day, Jason torments and tortures him (by drowning him over and over). Things get pretty desperate on Tim’s end! If you want to see how this angsty story gets resolved then why not give this a read? It’s a three-shot so angsty you can taste it.

Enjoy! And feel free to explore my full AO3 rec list here.

[mariswxt]

the art of heresy forged 1981

SUMMARY: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.

TW: psychological torture, trauma, angst, smut, drinking, consumption of drugs, smoking, mentions of sex, Ben (cause he’s an individual warning), Ben and Psyke being little shits, it’s The Boys so be careful guys, really creepy shit, literal crack

STW: unprotected sex (again, not advised, guys), fingering, oral sex (f. receiving)

A/N - divider by @chachachannah

Song Inspo: …Ready for It? - Taylor Swift

three - me, you, my mind

1981:

The hospital corridors smelled of antiseptic and despair, the kind that clung to your skin no matter how much you tried to shake it off. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed incessantly, casting a cold, sterile glow over everything. You hated hospitals. Always had. Too much death, too much pain, too much everything. But you were here for a reason, and not even the oppressive atmosphere could keep you away.

The receptionist at the front desk had given you a wary look when you strolled in, your usual swagger evident in every step. She knew who you were—everyone did. But she also knew the rules, and that made her think she had the power to stop you. Poor thing didn’t know what she was up against.

“I’m here to see Elizabeth, uh, Liz,” you said, leaning over the counter slightly, your voice gruff with impatience. “She’s just had a baby.”

The receptionist, a mousy woman in her early forties, blinked up at you with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but only the father is allowed to visit right now. Hospital policy.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to let loose a string of expletives. “Yeah, well, policy be damned. I’m not just anyone, sweetheart. I’m Psyke. Recognise the name, doll?”

The woman’s eyes widened further, recognition dawning as she realized just who she was dealing with. You weren’t exactly the friendly neighborhood superhero type, but your name carried a ton of weight, and that weight was enough to get you what you wanted eleven times out of ten. She stammered, trying to find the right words to appease you while also following the rules she was undoubtedly tired of enforcing.

“I—I’m sorry, but—”

You leaned in closer, dropping your voice to a menacing whisper. “Look, I don’t have time for this shit. My sister just gave birth, and I’m not leaving this place until I’ve seen her and my niece. So, either you can let me in, or we can make this a whole lot more difficult for everyone involved. Your choice.”

The receptionist swallowed hard, clearly torn between her duty and the fear you’d expertly instilled in her. She fumbled with the papers on her desk before finally giving a reluctant nod. “Room 312,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s in Room 312.”

“Good girl,” you muttered, already striding down the corridor without a backward glance. You could feel the eyes of the staff on you, their hushed whispers following in your wake, but you didn’t give a damn. Let them talk. You had more important things to worry about.

The walk to Liz’s room felt longer than it should have. You kept your eyes forward, ignoring the sterile white walls and the smell of bleach that permeated the air. Hospitals always had a way of making you feel like you were suffocating, like the weight of all the pain and suffering within those walls was pressing down on your chest. But this was different. This was family.

When you finally reached Room 312, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the door handle. You weren’t used to feeling nervous—hell, you weren’t used to feeling anything other than anger or disdain most of the time—but right now, with Liz on the other side of that door, you felt something close to apprehension. She’d just given birth, for fuck’s sake. What were you supposed to say?

You pushed the thought aside and shoved the door open, stepping into the room with a confidence you didn’t quite feel. The sight that greeted you was one that would stay with you forever.

Liz was lying in the hospital bed, her face pale but glowing with a kind of serenity you’d never seen in her before. Her blonde hair was tousled, sticking to her forehead with sweat, and she looked exhausted—but happy. In her arms, she cradled a tiny bundle wrapped in a pink blanket, her gaze fixed on the newborn with a tenderness that made something in your chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Liz,” you said, your voice uncharacteristically soft as you stepped closer to the bed. “How’re you holding up?”

Liz looked up at you, her tired eyes brightening as a smile spread across her face. “Well, look who finally decided to show up,” she teased, though there was no real bite to her words. “You missed all the fun.”

“Yeah, well, I had to wrestle a few assholes to get in here,” you replied, slipping back into your usual bravado. “But I wasn’t gonna let a bunch of rules keep me from meeting my niece.”

Liz chuckled softly, the sound warm and full of affection. “Meet Georgia,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she glanced down at the baby in her arms. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

You leaned in closer, your heart doing an odd little flip as you got your first real look at the tiny human cradled in your sister’s arms. Georgia was small—so small it made you feel like a fucking giant in comparison—with a tuft of dark hair peeking out from under the blanket and her eyes squeezed shut. Her little face was scrunched up like she was already fed up with the world, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Perfect?” you scoffed, though your voice lacked its usual bite. “She looks like a pissed-off potato.”

Liz laughed, a sound that was both tired and full of joy. “That’s one way to put it,” she said, looking down at Georgia with a mother’s love in her eyes. “But she’s my pissed-off potato.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease a bit. “You did good, Liz. Real good.”

“Thanks,” Liz said softly, her gaze still locked on Georgia. “You want to hold her?”

The question caught you off guard. You weren’t the maternal type—not by a long shot. Kids were loud, messy, and a pain in the ass most of the time. But as you looked down at Georgia, something in you shifted, just a little. Maybe it was the fact that she was family, or maybe it was the way Liz was looking at you, but for the first time in your life, you found yourself wanting to protect something—someone—more than anything else.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice rough as you reached out to take the tiny bundle from Liz. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Liz carefully handed Georgia over, and you cradled the newborn in your arms, feeling her warmth seep into your skin. She was so fucking small, her tiny fingers curling into fists as she squirmed slightly in your hold. For a moment, you felt completely out of your depth, unsure of how to hold something so delicate without breaking it.

But then Georgia let out a small, contented sigh, and you felt something inside you melt. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt something so…pure. So untainted by the shitstorm that was your life. It was almost enough to make you believe in something good.

“Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, your voice surprisingly gentle as you looked down at your niece. “I’m your auntie. Your life’s about to get a whole lot more interesting, cause I’m a fuckin’ supe. You’re gonna be well protected from nasty bullies, jellybean.”

Liz watched you with a soft smile, her eyes filled with a warmth you hadn’t seen in a long time. “She’s going to need someone like you in her life,” she said quietly. “Someone who won’t take shit from anyone.”

You snorted, but there was no real humor in it. “Yeah, well, that’s something I’m good at.”

Liz’s smile faltered slightly, and she reached out to place a hand on your arm. “Promise me you’ll be there for her. For me. You know how things are with Vince. He’s…”

Her voice trailed off, but you knew what she meant. Vince was an asshole, plain and simple. He wasn’t going to be winning any Father of the Year awards, that much was certain. You’d never liked him, but Liz had always been the one with the bleeding heart, always seeing the good in people even when there wasn’t any to be found.

“I’ll be there,” you said, your voice firm as you looked down at Georgia. “I promise.”

Liz let out a small sigh of relief, her grip on your arm tightening slightly. “Thank you.”

“I still don’t know why you married the guy.” You snorted, shaking your head. “Am I still not allowed to bash his face in?”

“That’s a stretch.”

“I have enough money from Payback to take care’a both of us. And Soldier Boy could help if I asked him.” You protested, but she shook her head.

Liz gave you a soft smile. “I’d be indebted to you. And I always have been, you’re my older sister and you’ve been all I know. But I’m gonna do this my way, as much as I’d like to meet the guy who’s fucking my older sister.”

“He’s a real good fuck too.”

“I bet he is.”

For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound in the room the soft breathing of the newborn in your arms. It was a moment of calm, a rare reprieve from the chaos that usually filled your life. You found yourself reluctant to break the silence, content to just be there with Liz and Georgia.

But eventually, reality began to creep back in, and you knew you couldn’t stay in this little bubble forever. With a reluctant sigh, you carefully handed Georgia back to Liz, the weight of responsibility settling back onto your shoulders.

“Alright,” you said, your voice rough as you cleared your throat. “I should probably get going. Let you get some rest.”

Liz looked up at you, her eyes filled with gratitude. “You don’t have to go just yet.”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “Nah, you need your rest. I’ll be back soon.”

Liz nodded, though you could see the reluctance in her eyes. “Okay. But don’t be a stranger, alright?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you said with a smirk, though there was an edge of seriousness to your tone. “Take care of yourself, Liz. And take care of Georgia.”

“I will,” Liz promised, her voice soft. “Thank you for being here.”

You nodded, giving her one last look before turning to leave the room. But just as you reached the door, Liz called out to you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey, sis?”

You turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Liz hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I just want you to know… you’re going to be a great aunt.”

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. But then you felt a small, genuine smile tug at your lips, and you nodded.

“Thanks, Liz,” you said quietly. “I’ll do my best.”

And with that, you turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you. As you made your way down the corridor, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You had a niece now—a tiny, pissed-off potato of a niece who was going to need you in her life. It was a strange feeling, knowing that you were responsible for someone other than yourself. But as you thought about Georgia’s tiny face and Liz’s hopeful smile, you found yourself determined to live up to the promise you’d made.

No matter what it took, you were going to be there for Georgia. You were going to be the aunt she needed, the one who wouldn’t take shit from anyone and who would always have her back. Because that’s what family was about.

Even for someone like you.

Ben’s hotel room smelled of smoke and something faintly sweet, a scent that clung to the silk robe he wore loosely over his broad frame. The black fabric shimmered under the dim light of the bedside lamp, emphasizing every movement he made as he lounged back in the chair by the window, a cigar between his fingers. You watched him take a long, slow drag, the end glowing bright red before he exhaled a thick plume of smoke into the room.

“Congrats on your sister,” he said, his voice a deep rumble, rough around the edges. “She popped out a kid, huh?”

You leaned back on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows, and let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, she did. Little girl, Georgia. Cute as hell, too—though she looks like a potato right now.”

Ben chuckled, a low sound that vibrated through the room. “They all look like that at first. Wrinkled and pissed off, like they know what kind of shit they’ve been born into.”

You snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”

He leaned back further in his chair, his robe falling open slightly, exposing more of his muscular chest. His green eyes were sharp as they flicked over to you, something unreadable in them as he took another drag from his cigar. “You ever think about it? Having kids?”

You shrugged, pretending to be more interested in the cigarette you were holding than the direction the conversation was taking. “Not really. Never thought I’d be the mom type. Too much of a hard-ass for all that soft shit.”

“Yeah,” Ben muttered, rolling the cigar between his fingers. “That’s what I thought about Marjorie too.”

The mention of Crimson Countess—Marjorie—hung in the air between you like a bad stench. You’d seen the two of them together often enough, the way they played up their public romance for the cameras, all smiles and perfect poses. It was all bullshit, and you both knew it. Ben and Marjorie weren’t a real couple—they were just a convenient PR package, wrapped up nice and neat to sell to the public.

“Marjorie and kids?” You scoffed at the thought, raising an eyebrow at him. “Can’t picture that.”

Ben let out a dry laugh, the sound devoid of any real humor. “Neither could I. Even back in the day, when we were…whatever the fuck we were, she never talked about kids. Hell, I didn’t either.”

You nodded, taking a slow drag from your cigarette. “Too much of a mess, all of it. The world’s gone to shit, and bringing a kid into it? That’s a special kind of hell.”

“Exactly.” Ben’s voice was rough, tinged with something bitter. He took another long pull from his cigar, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared out the window. “Can’t even imagine what kind of life they’d have. Constant danger, growing up with assholes like us around. Nah, better off without.”

The bitterness in his tone matched the cynical look in his eyes, and you found yourself nodding in agreement. “Yeah, no need to drag anyone else into this fucked-up world.”

Ben’s gaze flicked back to you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And you? Think your sister made a mistake?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, turning the cigarette between your fingers. “Nah, Liz is different. She’s…I don’t know, softer. She’s got a heart that isn’t covered in layers of steel and hate. Maybe she can make it work.”

Ben let out a huff, the smirk still in place as he shook his head. “That’s one hell of an optimistic view coming from you. Never thought I’d hear it.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a playful shove with your foot. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Just because I think Liz can handle it doesn’t mean I’d ever want the same shit for myself. No way.”

Ben grinned at that, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned forward, his cigar hanging lazily between his lips. “So, if not kids, what the hell do you want, then? What’s left for someone like you, huh?”

The question was loaded, and you knew it. What did you want? In this world of lies, violence, and constant manipulation, it was hard to even remember what you used to want, let alone what you wanted now. But there was something in the way Ben was looking at you, a challenge in his eyes that made you want to answer, to say something, anything that would push back against the darkness that threatened to swallow you both.

You flicked the ash from your cigarette, watching as it floated to the floor, and met his gaze head-on. “I want to keep living. Fighting. Whatever comes my way, I want to face it and make sure it doesn’t break me.”

Ben’s smirk widened into a full grin, a glint of approval in his eyes. “Now that, I can get behind. You’re a tough one, I’ll give you that.”

“Damn right I am,” you shot back, your tone dripping with confidence. “What about you, huh? What’s left for the great Soldier Boy?”

Ben’s grin faded slightly, his expression hardening as he took another drag from his cigar. “Same as you, I guess. Just keep going, keep fighting, and make sure the world doesn’t forget who the hell I am.”

There was something raw in his voice, something vulnerable that he quickly covered up with another puff of smoke. You didn’t push it—Ben wasn’t the type to open up easily, and you weren’t the type to pry. But there was a part of you that understood, that recognized the fear of being forgotten, of being rendered obsolete in a world that was constantly moving forward without you.

You took a final drag from your cigarette, then crushed it in the ashtray on the nightstand. “We’re both stubborn bastards, that’s for sure.”

Ben chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. “Damn right. And don’t you forget it.”

You met his gaze, feeling the tension in the room shift slightly, a different kind of heat sparking between you. There was something electric in the air, something that had been simmering beneath the surface since you’d walked into the room. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt it—hell, it wasn’t even the first time you’d acted on it—but tonight felt different. There was an edge to it, a kind of desperation that neither of you could ignore.

Ben’s eyes darkened as he looked at you, his gaze lingering on your lips before trailing down to the curve of your neck. “You know, you always did know how to push my buttons.”

You felt a smirk tug at your lips as you leaned back on the bed, your eyes locked on his. “Is that right? And here I thought I was just being my charming self.”

He let out a low growl, his grin widening as he pushed himself out of the chair and moved toward the bed. “Charming, my ass. You’re a goddamn menace.”

You didn’t bother to argue, your heart pounding in your chest as Ben closed the distance between you. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing as he reached out and pulled you toward him, his hands rough and insistent on your skin. The silk robe he wore brushed against your arm, the fabric cool and smooth compared to the heat of his touch.

“Ben,” you murmured, your voice a low whisper as his lips found your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

“Shut up,” he growled against your throat, his hands slipping beneath your shirt, the warmth of his palms sending shivers down your spine. “Just shut up.”

You couldn’t help the low moan that escaped your lips as his hands roamed over your body, the roughness of his touch contrasting with the softness of the silk robe. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved, the way he took control, like he needed this as much as you did.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as his lips found yours, the kiss hard and demanding. It was a battle for dominance, neither of you willing to back down, both of you determined to take what you wanted. His hands slid under your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, and you didn’t hesitate to do the same with his robe, the silk falling to the floor in a heap.

The cool air of the room hit your skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of Ben’s body as he pressed against you, his hands roaming over every inch of exposed flesh. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the barely-contained need that matched your own.

“Fuck,” you muttered against his lips, your nails digging into his back as he pushed you down onto the bed. “You’re gonna leave marks.”

“Good,” he growled, his voice rough with desire as he trailed kisses down your neck, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “I want you to remember this.”

You arched into him, a low moan escaping your lips as his mouth found the sensitive spot on your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. You didn’t care about the bruises, didn’t care about the pain—if anything, it only made you want him more.

“Ben,” you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he moved lower, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Shut up,” he growled, sucking on your skin as he threw your legs apart. Touch practiced. Rough.

You gasped, the sharp sensation of his mouth on your skin sending jolts of heat through your body. Ben’s lips were rough and eager as they explored the curve of your collarbone, trailing lower until he reached the edge of your bra. You shivered under his touch, a thrill racing through you as he sucked gently at the delicate skin there, his fingers gripping your waist with a possessiveness that made your heart race.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and teasing. “Can’t believe I waited this long.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers curling into his hair as you pulled him closer. “It’s been a few hours since you fucked me.”

He looked up at you then, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Few hours too long, sweet thing.”

With that, his hands slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers brushing against the skin of your thighs. You felt the heat of his touch radiating through the thin fabric, and a low growl rumbled in his throat as he pushed your pants down, baring your legs to the cool air.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his fingers trailing up your thighs with agonizing slowness. “You’re fucking perfect.”

You could barely respond, too lost in the heat pooling in your core as his fingers finally found their way to the center of your desire. He paused, teasing you for a moment, before sliding a single finger between your folds, pushing against you with just the right amount of pressure.

“Ben,” you gasped, your back arching off the bed as pleasure shot through you. You felt raw, exposed, and completely at his mercy. He moved slowly at first, his finger gliding effortlessly as he worked you up, the pressure building with each tantalizing stroke.

“Easy there, sugar,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “We’ve got all night. I want to take my time with you.”

You opened your eyes to find him watching you intently, his green gaze dark with desire. There was something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, that sent another wave of heat crashing through you.

“Don’t tease me,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper as his finger curled inside you, the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. “I need more.”

“Need more?” He smirked, clearly enjoying the power he had over you. “You’ve got it, babe.”

With that, he slipped in another finger, stretching you open, and you moaned loudly, biting down on your lip to suppress any further sounds. He moved them in a slow, rhythmic motion, and you could feel every stroke, every curl of his fingers hitting all the right spots.

“Shit, that feels incredible,” you breathed, your body arching into him as you fought to maintain control. But the pleasure was building quickly, spiraling higher and higher until you were lost in it.

Ben seemed to revel in the way you responded to him, his fingers working you expertly as he leaned down to press kisses along your inner thigh, teasing you mercilessly. Each brush of his lips sent shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body, and you knew you were dangerously close to the edge.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxed, his breath warm against your skin. “Let go for me.”

With every movement of his fingers, every kiss he pressed against your skin, you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter within you. “Ben,” you gasped, your hands clutching the sheets as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, threatening to pull you under.

“Yeah?” he murmured, the devilish grin on his face betraying his eagerness.

You met his gaze, eyes wide and pleading. “I’m so close.”

“Good,” he growled, picking up the pace, fingers moving faster, deeper. “I want to feel you come on my fingers.”

You barely had time to register his words before the tension snapped, pleasure exploding through you as you cried out his name. Your back arched, your entire body tightening around him as you let go, waves of bliss crashing over you.

“Fucking hell,” Ben breathed, his fingers still moving as you came down from your high, riding out the aftershocks of pleasure. He leaned down, pressing his lips against your inner thigh, his eyes glimmering with satisfaction as he watched you come undone.

When you finally opened your eyes again, he was smirking at you, his fingers glistening with your arousal. “You’re a fucking sight to behold, you know that?”

You chuckled breathlessly, still feeling the lingering effects of your climax. “Yeah? And you’re a cocky bastard.”

“Only because I know how to push your buttons,” he shot back, his voice low and teasing. He slid his fingers out of you, slowly, and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped your lips at the loss.

Ben’s smirk widened as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied look on his face. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

Your heart raced at the sight, a heat flooding your cheeks as you watched him. There was something primal in the way he moved, something raw and unrestrained that set your entire body alight with need.

“Now,” he said, leaning over you, his green eyes dark with lust. “I think it’s my turn to taste you.”

Before you could respond, he was lowering himself down your body, settling between your thighs. You gasped as he pressed a kiss to your core, his lips brushing against you with feather-light pressure before he buried his face deeper, licking you with a fierce hunger.

“Ben!” you gasped, your back arching again as pleasure shot through you, the sensation overwhelming in the best way possible. He worked you with a skill that left you breathless, his tongue moving in expert strokes, teasing and tasting as he explored you.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmured against you, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine. He was relentless, his mouth moving expertly as he pushed you back toward the edge, building you up higher and higher until you were gasping for breath.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he worked you, the heat of his mouth combined with the pressure of his tongue sending you spiraling toward another climax. The pleasure was building again, a familiar tightness coiling within you, and you knew you were close.

“Ben,” you gasped, feeling your body start to tremble. “I’m—”

“Let go,” he urged, his voice low and commanding, and the combination of his words and the feeling of his mouth on you pushed you right over the edge. You cried out, your back arching as pleasure flooded through you, crashing over you in wave after wave.

“Fuck!” you shouted, your body trembling as you rode the waves of your climax, feeling his tongue work you through it, keeping you on the edge, keeping the pleasure coming.

As you finally came down from your high, gasping for breath, you felt Ben pulling back, his lips glistening, a satisfied grin on his face. “Told you I’d make you forget.”

You chuckled breathlessly, the sound a mixture of disbelief and pure, unfiltered satisfaction. “You weren’t kidding. That was…something else.”

He leaned back, looking at you with a glimmer of pride. “You liked it, huh?”

“Yeah, I liked it,” you admitted, still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your body. “You’ve got some serious skills there, Soldier Boy.”

“Only the best for you, Psyke.” He winked, his voice teasing as he shifted closer again, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against him. “But now that I’ve gotten my taste, I want more.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at your lips. “More? You think you can handle it?”

“Oh, I can handle it,” he growled, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned in to capture your lips with his. The kiss was heated, a promise of what was to come, and you could feel the heat building again, a fire igniting between you that promised a long night ahead.

You melted against him, feeling the weight of his body pressing against yours, the heat radiating from him as you lost yourself in the kiss. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, tangled together in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

As the kiss deepened, you felt the thrill of excitement course through you, and you knew that whatever came next, you were ready for it. You were ready to face the darkness together, to embrace the chaos and the heat, and to lose yourself in the wild, unrestrained moments that came with being together.

“Let’s see what else you’ve got,” you whispered against his lips, your voice filled with challenge.

Ben grinned, a wicked spark in his eyes as he pulled you closer. “Oh, I’ve got plenty in store for you, don’t you worry. M’gonna make sure you come at least five times before the night’s over.”

The morning light filtered into the lobby of the hotel through the large glass windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The place was quiet at this early hour, with only a few scattered guests enjoying breakfast or scrolling through their phones. You sat in one of the plush armchairs, nursing a coffee and trying to shake off the remnants of last night’s haze. Your clothes were disheveled, a stark contrast to the elegant setting, but you were past caring about appearances.

As you took another sip of your coffee, you felt a sharp, familiar presence approaching. You looked up to see Marjorie, also known as Crimson Countess, storming toward you. Her usual air of polished elegance was replaced by a fierce, almost frenzied expression. Her tight red dress clung to her curves, and her high heels clicked loudly against the marble floor as she made her way over.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” Marjorie snapped as she reached you, her voice dripping with irritation. “I need to talk to you.”

You raised an eyebrow, casually setting your coffee down on the table beside you. “Oh, really? And here I thought I’d be able to enjoy my morning without a drama fest.”

Marjorie’s eyes flashed with anger, but she took a deep breath before speaking. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing with Ben, but this has to stop. You’re making things complicated.”

You took a moment to let that sink in, a smirk playing at your lips. “Complicated? How so?”

Her expression tightened further. “You’re screwing him, and it’s messing with our arrangement. We have a deal, and I don’t appreciate you undermining it.”

You chuckled, a harsh, almost mocking sound that made Marjorie’s face redden. “Oh, honey, don’t get your panties in a twist. Ben and I are just having a bit of fun. It’s not like we’re plotting world domination.”

“Fun?” Marjorie spat, her tone dripping with disdain. “You’re not just having fun. You’re disrupting things that are important to both of us.”

“Important to both of you?” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “I’m pretty sure Ben’s deal with you is just a glorified PR stunt. You know it, I know it, and deep down, he knows it too.”

Marjorie’s eyes widened in fury. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Ben and I have—”

“—A business arrangement,” you cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m well aware. I’ve seen the way you cling to him every time there’s a camera around. Pathetic.”

Marjorie’s jaw clenched. “Cling? You think I’m pathetic?”

“Damn right I do,” you replied, your tone icy. “You’re like a stage five clinger, always hanging around, making sure everyone sees how ‘happy’ you are. It’s sickening. Ben’s never been into the whole lovey-dovey crap, and you’re just there to play a part.”

Her face twisted in anger, and she took a step closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “You think you’re so much better? You’re just a temporary distraction. A little fling for Ben to amuse himself with.”

You stood up, meeting her gaze with a steely resolve. “And you’re a joke. You think you’re special because you’ve got a bit of fame and a PR relationship? Newsflash, Marjorie, you’re just another face in the crowd. Ben’s had enough of the fake crap, and he’s making that pretty damn clear.”

Before Marjorie could retort, Ben strolled into the lobby, looking every bit the part of a man who was used to getting his way. His black silk robe was slung casually over his shoulders, and he had that confident, almost arrogant swagger that you knew all too well. He looked between you and Marjorie with a knowing smirk.

“Everything alright here?” Ben’s voice was smooth, laced with a hint of amusement as he approached.

Marjorie’s eyes flashed with a mix of relief and annoyance as she turned to him. “Ben, you need to handle this. She’s—”

“—Handling it just fine,” you interrupted, your voice laced with a defiant edge. “Thanks for joining the party, Ben. Marjorie was just about to explain how she feels about our arrangement.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, glancing at Marjorie with a curious expression. “Oh? And what’s the problem now?”

Marjorie’s frustration was palpable as she threw her hands up in exasperation. “She’s undermining our deal. I need you to make her stop.”

Ben’s grin widened, and he turned his full attention back to you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, sweetheart. But you know, I wouldn’t say no to a little more fun.”

Without warning, he reached out and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you close. His hands were rough, assertive, and there was no mistaking the predatory gleam in his eyes. You barely had time to react before his lips were on yours, kissing you with a raw, hungry passion that left you breathless.

Marjorie’s eyes widened in shock as she watched the scene unfold, her mouth hanging open. She clearly hadn’t anticipated Ben’s reaction, and you could see the mix of jealousy and anger in her expression.

Ben’s hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips and pulling you tighter against him. His touch was commanding, and there was no subtlety in the way he maneuvered you, as if claiming you for his own. He broke the kiss only long enough to look over at Marjorie with a smirk.

“Looks like you’ve got some competition,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And I’m not about to let her go.”

Marjorie’s face turned a deep shade of red, and she opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she glared at you with an expression that could have burned a hole through steel.

“You know what?” you said, your voice loud and unapologetic as Ben’s hands slipped down to give your ass a playful smack. “We’re literally just fucking every chance we get. I see no problems here.”

Ben’s grin grew wider as he continued his assault on your body, his hands exploring every curve with a possessive eagerness. “Damn right. And if Marjorie’s got an issue with that, well, that’s her problem.”

Marjorie’s face was a storm of emotions—anger, humiliation, and something like betrayal. She looked between you and Ben, her eyes filled with frustration. “You’re unbelievable, Ben. And you,” she snapped at you, “you’re nothing but a—”

Ben cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Save it, Marjorie. I’m done with this conversation.”

Marjorie’s mouth snapped shut, and she glared at Ben one last time before turning on her heel and storming out of the lobby, her high heels clicking angrily as she went. The sound of the door slamming shut behind her was almost a relief, and you let out a sigh of relief, leaning into Ben’s touch.

Ben’s hands were still on your ass, giving it another playful slap before he pulled you back against him. His lips found yours again, and this time the kiss was even more heated, full of unrestrained desire. You melted into it, your hands gripping his shoulders as you lost yourself in the moment.

When he finally pulled back, his green eyes were filled with a mix of satisfaction and amusement. “That was fun,” he said, his voice low and filled with a smugness that was impossible to miss.

You chuckled, still feeling the remnants of the kiss on your lips. “Yeah, you sure know how to make a point.”

Ben smirked, his hands still resting possessively on your hips. “Glad I could help. Now, how about we take this somewhere more private?”

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “Lead the way.”

As you followed him toward the elevator, you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. Whatever else the day held, you knew it would be anything but boring. Ben’s presence was a wild card, and you were ready to embrace whatever came next.

The night was crisp, and the city lights sparkled like a sea of diamonds below. The limo's interior was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of the backseat reading lights and the flicker of the occasional street lamp as it sped along. You and Ben—Soldier Boy, as he was known—had taken full advantage of the privacy the car afforded.

Ben adjusted his black tuxedo, smoothing down the front while you fixed your dress, the deep crimson fabric clinging in all the right places. You cast a glance at Ben, who had a satisfied smirk on his face. His green eyes glinted with mischief as he adjusted his bow tie, the only hint of the evening’s earlier activities evident in the disheveled state of his usually pristine hair.

“You know,” you said, smoothing down the fabric of your dress, “I’ve got to hand it to you. You’re quite the multitasker.”

Ben chuckled, his grin widening. “Oh? And how’s that?”

“Managing to get us both worked up and still looking like a million bucks.” You winked at him. “Impressive.”

“Just a skill set I’ve developed over the years,” Ben replied, adjusting his cufflinks. “But you’re looking pretty damn incredible yourself.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the pleased smile that spread across your face. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Soldier Boy.”

The limo pulled up to the entrance of the gala, the flashing lights of photographers and the murmur of the crowd growing louder as the vehicle came to a stop. The driver opened the door, and you stepped out, your heels clicking on the marble steps as you took in the opulence of the event.

The gala was a high-profile affair, hosted by one of the city’s elite charities. The grand entrance was adorned with gold-trimmed decorations, and a red carpet led to the entrance, where a steady stream of well-dressed guests were being greeted with champagne and smiles. You took Ben’s arm as you approached, the two of you looking every bit the glamorous couple you were pretending to be.

As you entered the ballroom, the grandeur of the venue hit you. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the elegant tables set with fine china and polished silverware. The guests were mingling, their laughter and conversation creating a lively, sophisticated buzz.

You and Ben made quite the entrance, heads turning as the two of you walked in together. It wasn’t long before you noticed a few curious glances and whispered conversations. You had always been used to attracting attention, but tonight it felt particularly charged, thanks to the way you and Ben had spent the ride over.

You turned to Ben with a sly grin. “Ready to make this night interesting?”

Ben’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. “Oh, I’m more than ready.”

As you made your way to the bar, you could feel the weight of several gazes on you. Ben seemed to enjoy the attention, his confidence practically radiating off him. You could sense a playful competitiveness between you and him, each of you trying to outdo the other with quips and subtle touches.

At the bar, you ordered a champagne and turned to Ben. “I see you’re still sporting that smirk. You think you can keep it up all night?”

Ben chuckled, his voice low and teasing. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

A couple approached you—an elegantly dressed man and a woman in a stunning blue gown. They smiled politely, clearly eager to make your acquaintance.

“Good evening,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Richard, and this is my wife, Emily. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You shook Richard’s hand with a firm grip, then turned to Emily. “Nice to meet you. I’m Psyke, and this is Soldier Boy.”

Emily’s eyes widened slightly at the name, but she quickly recovered with a polite smile. “Oh, I’ve heard quite a bit about both of you. This must be quite the evening for you.”

Ben leaned in slightly, his voice smooth and confident. “Well, we do try to make things interesting.”

Emily chuckled, her gaze flicking between you and Ben. “I can see that. You both seem to be quite the pair.”

Richard nodded, clearly intrigued. “So, what brings you to the gala tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow, giving Ben a sidelong glance. “Well, let’s just say we’re here to enjoy ourselves and maybe shake things up a bit.”

Ben’s grin widened, and he wrapped an arm around your waist. “Psyke here likes to keep things lively. Keeps me on my toes.”

Emily laughed, clearly charmed by the banter. “Well, it sounds like you’re both having a good time.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you said, giving Ben a playful nudge. “We’ve been having a lot of fun lately.”

The conversation continued, but you and Ben kept finding ways to tease each other, exchanging smirks and subtle touches. It was clear to everyone watching that there was more to your relationship than just a shared evening at a gala.

At one point, you caught Ben’s hand sliding down to give your ass a quick squeeze as you chatted with another guest. You raised an eyebrow and shot him a look that promised retribution later.

“Careful,” you warned in a low voice. “Or I might just have to show you who’s really in charge.”

Ben’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Looking forward to it.”

As the night wore on, you and Ben continued to mingle with the other guests, your playful teasing never missing a beat. At one point, Ben even attempted to dance with you, though his moves were decidedly more suggestive than graceful. You found yourself laughing and trying to keep up, the entire scene feeling more like a private joke between the two of you than a formal event.

A particularly snooty woman approached, her eyes narrowing as she took in Ben’s casual demeanor and your playful interactions. “I’m surprised to see you here, Soldier Boy,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension. “And with Psyke, no less.”

Ben’s grin didn’t falter as he gave her a once-over. “Surprised? Well, I do like to keep people on their toes.”

The woman’s lips thinned, clearly unamused by Ben’s response. “I hope you’re not disrupting the event with your...antics.”

You stepped in, leaning close to the woman with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re just here to have a good time. If that’s too much for you, maybe you should have stayed home.”

The woman’s eyes widened in shock, and she quickly retreated, her face a mask of indignation. You and Ben exchanged a triumphant look, both of you clearly enjoying the minor scandal you’d caused.

As the evening continued, the two of you couldn’t resist finding more ways to push each other’s buttons. At one point, Ben leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “You know, I’ve been thinking about our little ‘discussion’ earlier.”

You turned to him, a playful smile on your lips. “Oh? And what are you thinking?”

“Maybe it’s time I showed you just how much I appreciate your company,” Ben said, his voice low and suggestive.

Before you could respond, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close, his hands finding their way to your ass once again. You squealed in surprise as he gave you a quick, playful squeeze, earning a few curious glances from nearby guests.

“Oh, really?” you said, trying to sound shocked. “In the middle of a gala?”

Ben’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Why not? We’re here to make an impression.”

You laughed, unable to resist his playful demeanor. “Well, in that case, I guess I’ll just have to keep you on your toes, too.”

The rest of the night passed in a whirlwind of laughter, playful banter, and more than a few surprised looks from other guests. You and Ben continued to push each other’s buttons, reveling in the way you could make even the most formal of events feel like your own personal playground.

As the evening drew to a close, you found yourselves back in the limo, the car’s interior a stark contrast to the glitz and glamour of the gala. Ben leaned back, his eyes still gleaming with satisfaction.

“Not a bad night,” he said, stretching his legs out with a contented sigh.

“Not bad at all,” you agreed, leaning back against him with a relaxed smile. “You sure know how to keep things interesting.”

Ben’s hand found its way to your thigh, his touch warm and reassuring. “Well, I do try. But I think I’m ready for the next round of fun.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh? And what do you have in mind?”

Ben’s grin was pure mischief. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

NOW:

You came to on the cold, hard floor of Hughie’s kitchen. The tile felt like ice against your cheek, and you tried to push yourself up but found your limbs unresponsive. A dull ache throbbed in your head, and the world spun around you in a dizzying blur. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the shapes of the kitchen appliances and the scattered mess of Hughie’s apartment.

Through the haze, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. They grew louder, more distinct, and you could faintly make out Hughie’s concerned voice.

“Jesus, what the hell?” Hughie’s voice was tinged with panic. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You tried to speak, but the words came out as a mumbled mess, barely audible. Your mouth felt dry, and the effort to communicate left you feeling even more disoriented.

Hughie’s footsteps grew closer, and a moment later, you felt his hands gently lifting you from the floor. “Hang on. Let’s get you out of here.”

Before Hughie could do much more, another set of footsteps pounded into the kitchen. Ben burst through the door, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. His face went from confusion to fury in an instant.

“What the fuck happened?” Ben’s voice roared through the room, filled with an edge of panic. “Why the hell is she on the goddamn floor?”

Hughie looked sheepish, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I—I found her like this. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed as he approached, his anger palpable. “You found her like this? How the fuck long ago?”

“Just a few minutes,” Hughie stammered. “I was in the other room and—”

“—Jesus Christ,” Ben cut him off, his voice low and dangerously sharp. “You had her on the floor for more than a few minutes? What the hell kind of shit show is this?”

Without waiting for an answer, Ben knelt beside you. His rough hands were surprisingly gentle as he helped you onto your back. You were barely aware of what was happening, your head spinning and your limbs feeling like lead.

“Hey, stay with me,” Ben said, his voice a harsh whisper but filled with concern. “Can you hear me?”

You tried to nod, but the motion made your head spin even more. You blinked slowly, trying to focus on his face, which hovered above you like a shadowy figure.

Ben’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression was still a mixture of anger and worry. “Jesus, you’re out of it. What the hell did you take?”

“I… don’t know,” you managed to croak out, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I… can’t remember.”

“Of course you can’t,” Ben muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Alright, we’re not calling the fucking hospital. Not yet. We’ll deal with this ourselves.”

He glanced over at Hughie. “Get some fucking pillows or something. We need to get her off the floor and make sure she’s okay.”

Hughie scrambled to follow Ben’s instructions, rushing to fetch a few cushions from the couch and placing them under your legs. Ben moved with a rough efficiency, lifting you and maneuvering you onto the sofa with surprising care. He propped your legs up with the pillows, making sure you were as comfortable as possible given the circumstances.

As you lay there, trying to steady your breathing, Ben hovered nearby, his face a mask of intense focus mixed with frustration. He looked at Hughie, who was standing awkwardly by the counter, clearly feeling out of his depth.

“Alright,” Ben said, his voice still sharp but less panicked. “What the fuck happened here, Hughie? Did she just fall or something?”

Hughie shook his head, clearly rattled. “I don’t know. I came in and found her like this. She was just lying there.”

Ben let out a frustrated sigh, turning back to you. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s high as balls and you didn’t even think to call for help?”

You tried to focus on Ben’s face, his green eyes piercing through your disorientation. “High?” you mumbled, confusion evident in your voice. “I don’t… remember.”

Ben’s gaze softened just a bit, though his tone remained gruff. “Yeah, well, whatever the hell you took, it’s fucking you up pretty good. You need to stay awake, alright? Don’t go drifting off on me.”

You tried to respond, but your head was swimming, and the effort only seemed to make things worse. Ben’s frustration was evident, but there was a thread of genuine concern in his voice.

“You’re going to be fine,” Ben said, his tone a mix of roughness and reassurance. “We just need to ride this out and figure out what the hell happened.”

He looked at Hughie again. “Make yourself useful. Get us some water and maybe something to eat. If she’s been out of it for a while, she’s going to need to rehydrate and get some energy back.”

Hughie nodded quickly, darting off to the kitchen. Ben’s attention turned back to you as he settled into a nearby chair, his gaze never leaving your face.

“So, this is how you decide to spend your day?” Ben said, his voice gruff but tinged with a wry edge. “Lying on the floor, all out of it. Fucking great way to spend an evening.”

You tried to muster a weak smile, but the effort left you feeling even dizzier. “Sorry… didn’t mean to…”

Ben cut you off, his expression softening slightly despite the rough edge in his voice. “Don’t apologize. Just focus on staying awake. We’ve got this covered.”

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to read what was left of your consciousness. “And for the record, if you’re going to get yourself fucked up, at least do it somewhere I don’t have to clean up after.”

You managed a feeble chuckle, which only made your head spin more. “Noted.”

Hughie returned with a glass of water and a small plate of crackers. He set them down on the coffee table in front of you, looking more than a little relieved to have something to do. “Here you go. Try to drink some of this.”

You struggled to sit up slightly, your hands trembling as you reached for the water. Ben moved closer, his hand steadying yours as you took a few sips.

“Slowly,” he instructed. “Don’t rush it.”

You nodded weakly, your throat feeling like sandpaper as you drank. The water helped a little, though it didn’t completely clear the fog in your head.

“Better?” Ben asked, his voice still gruff but with a hint of concern.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, though the word came out as more of a slur. “Just… dizzy.”

Ben sighed, his expression a mixture of frustration and empathy. “We’ll get you through this. Just hang tight.”

Hughie watched from the sidelines, clearly feeling out of his depth. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Ben shot him a look that was both appreciative and impatient. “Just keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t slip back out. I’ll figure out what the hell we’re dealing with.”

Hughie nodded and took a seat across the room, his gaze occasionally flicking toward you with concern. You tried to focus on the voices around you, the conversations blending into a background noise as you fought to keep yourself awake.

Ben stayed close, his presence a reassuring constant in the midst of the confusion. He occasionally checked your pulse, his movements deliberate and precise, and though his words were rough, there was an undeniable care in his actions.

As time passed, the disorientation began to fade slowly. You could feel the room starting to come back into focus, and the nausea receded somewhat. Ben’s gruff comments and occasional jokes about your state made the whole situation seem almost surreal, adding a touch of humor to the otherwise unsettling experience.

“So,” Ben said after a while, his tone more conversational, “what exactly did you get into, anyway? You got some sort of new drug or something?”

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog from your mind. “I… I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

Ben gave a skeptical look but didn’t press the issue further. “Alright, well, let’s just get through this and figure it out. In the meantime, just try to relax and stay with us.”

You managed a faint smile, feeling a bit more lucid as the minutes went by. Ben’s rough demeanor had its own charm, and though his swearing and brusque attitude were far from comforting, there was a sense of reliability in his presence.

“Thanks,” you said softly, the words coming more easily now. “For… helping.”

Ben’s expression softened slightly, though his voice remained gruff. “Don’t mention it. Just try not to make a habit of this, alright?”

You nodded, feeling a bit better with each passing moment. Hughie continued to keep watch, his concern evident but his actions hesitant. Ben’s constant vigilance and occasional snide remarks kept you grounded, providing a steadying influence as you slowly regained your strength.

The night wore on, and as the initial haze of disorientation cleared, you felt yourself growing more coherent. Ben’s rough charm and Hughie’s well-meaning but somewhat awkward attempts to help created an oddly comforting atmosphere, despite the chaos.

Eventually, as you started to feel more like yourself, Ben leaned back in his chair, his expression a mixture of relief

and exasperation. “Well, you’re not exactly back to normal, but at least you’re not out cold on the floor anymore.”

You gave him a weak smile, appreciating the effort even if his methods were a bit unconventional. “I’ll take it.”

Ben nodded, his gaze shifting to Hughie. “Alright, I think we’re good here. Just keep an eye on her and let me know if anything changes.”

Hughie nodded, looking more relieved. “Will do. Thanks for—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ben interrupted, standing up and stretching. “Just don’t fuck it up again.”

As Ben headed for the door, he threw a final glance back at you. “And for the record, if you’re going to get yourself fucked up, at least make sure it’s something worth the trouble.”

With that, he was gone, leaving you and Hughie in the quiet of the apartment. The disorientation was mostly gone now, and you felt more like yourself, though still a bit shaky.

Hughie moved closer, offering a reassuring smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you said, your voice stronger now. “Thanks for—”

“Don’t mention it,” Hughie said quickly, though there was genuine relief in his eyes. “Just glad you’re okay.”

You nodded, grateful for his concern even if his presence had felt a bit like a secondary player in the drama. Then you frowned. “Cocksucker.”

“Yeah?” Hughie instantly answered, perking up a little, making you inwardly laugh at the fact that he actually responded to that.

“I didn’t take anything that strong.” You frowned, rubbing your forehead. If so, what the fuck did that?”

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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[choicesficwriterscreations]

October Creator of the Month: Tessa-Liam

Please welcome this month’s Creator of the Month: @tessa-liam

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists. The writer or artist is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTMs can be found here.

Tumblr Blog Name: Tessa-Liam

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Tessa

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog

Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

Christmas 2017, I was scrolling FB and saw an ad for Choices featuring The Royal Romance Book 1. I downloaded the app and started reading TRR right away.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I was hooked on that series and was waiting for a new chapter to release. I was desperate for more and my sister suggested that I try searching Tumblr for fanfiction in 2021.

3- How did you pick your blog name?

Liam was my LI, so I joined his name with mine!

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

My very first post was the masterlist to @ao719's series ‘The Invitation’. I found her treasure trove of Liam Rys/TRR stories very quickly! I couldn't get enough!

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both?

I write fanfiction. I wish I could draw…the best I can do is create moodboards.

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

I started writing my own stories for Choices pretty much at the same time I found the app. Publishing those stories started with prompting and encouragement from Anitah [@ao719] & Emmy [@txemrn]. I posted my first on October 28, 2022, ‘October Weekend Retreat’. I have also written for ‘Game of Thrones’, ‘Twilight’ & ‘The X-files’. These stories are all published on AO3 with other pseudonyms

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

My favorite book(s) to read and create for: The Royal Romance Series. Favorite = book 3

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

I do still like it! The changes I would make…I would add more ‘Would You Rather’ questions and dialogue.😁

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created?

My favorite: ‘All is Fair in Love & War’ …and I won an art commission (my center pic) for it from CFWC, by ArtbyAinna (IG).

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

I am always honoured whenever anyone takes the time to read, comment, or share my stories!🥰

11- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Definitely angst❣️ I love writing/drama about a group of characters in a series with various sub plots and relationships over time.

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yes! My OC Sophie Taylor from Marabelle.

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

Writing…Definitely 😏 smut! ….but practice makes perfect, right!? 😉

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Oh geez, so much!? My one drive is well stocked! 😂

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first?

Yes! My sister. No, not necessarily…I know she reads AO3, cuz she posts there too!

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? Are there any writers that influence you?

Anitah @ao719, my fellow Liam stan definitely inspired me to write TRR stories here on Tumblr. She is a phenomenal writer!💖

17- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Marabelle …it's still a W.I.P. right now and I have so much story to tell!

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art?

I have started a framework for a novel and have created storyboards for it.

19- What other hobbies do you have?

I love horses and am learning dressage. Reading, writing, politics.

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to)

I adore royalty in real life and follow news on William & Kate. They toured Canada in 2016. I was in Victoria, BC on vacation when they were here, but I couldn't get anywhere near that area of the city. 🤷‍♀️

[u3pxx]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S 2024?!?!

next, you're gonna tell me it's gonna be some made-up year like "2025" next. tch, imagine that.

anyways, whoo! 2023! compared to both 2022 and 2021, i gotta say, my art style took a hard swerve in some direction this year. i mean, look at that klavier from january and that butch kim from just this december! (granted, i heavily referenced the portrait of butch kim but still, i didn't use to paint! mama mia!)

---

the way i drew faces has definitely changed, that's what i get for getting into something that's live-action and into smth that has realistically proportioned art lol

OH! OH! HOW COULD I FORGET!!! IT WAS (and still will be) THE YEAR OF THE OLD MAN!! i really learned how to draw aged faces this year! ach fraulein, i have not stopped drawing people in their 40's-50's! i would say "send help" but i'm actually having a lot of fun ASKSKS

---

i think a funny thing about these art summaries i've done is that they're mostly ace attorney but then there's just a month where i become a different type of ill LMAO this year it was four months for the price of two new interests!

cheers! here's to 2024!!! hope y'all have a fun art year!!!!

---

i'm gonna ramble more below about like, other art things i did this year but i'm gonna put it under 'keep reading' bc this baby is getting way too wordy now WHEEZES

1. FAVORITE THINGS I'VE DRAWN THIS YEAR (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER)

⚖️ mea culpa comic [x]

drawing this one was so time-consuming and ambitious but boy, do i love the end result! i had fun doing the inks for this one but was it a lot! i usually color in lineart and render everything but i had to stop myself from doing it for this one bc man, i'll die asksks

this also has some of my favorite apollos i've drawn, definitely

also! the part about the lineart not being colored and no rendering ended up being a deliberate stylistic choice for this one bc i had like more freedom to do just shadows with inks without it looking too out of place.

💐 my lawfully wedded zine spread [x]

now this one isn't out yet but take my word for when i say that this is one of the most craxy things i've ever drawn for this year, on account of drawing a comic AND group shot all in one!

also literally one of the prettiest things i've rendered this year, lookit that klav...

🎉 aa4 redraw - 2022 anniversary [x]

kind of like my wedding zine piece, group photos are insane, and rendering like uhhh [looks at drawing] 11 CHARACTERS IS ALSO INSANE if i try and draw a group photo again you have to stop me DFGHDJ

🎨 my art fight stuff [x] [x]

was possessed in the month of july or smth bc i pumped out like how many drawings so quickly (before i got burnt out that is pftt)

pace yourselves and don't be like me pls ajshgdghhjk

💥 people park day [x]

my friend told me that it was very obvious i watched across the spiderverse when they saw this FDFGHJD

but yea! this is when i started getting really into like, thought bubbles or just like, panels or drawings within a drawing when coming up with layouts

i still love the colors on this one...

🪩 fem disco portraits

ok so i haven't uploaded these yet but you have to trust me when i say that something was in the water DFGHDJ

who knew that all it took for me to learn how to paint was butches

2. ALSO DID YOU KNOW THAT I SOLD STICKERS THIS YEAR IN OUR UNI'S ART MART?

THE ONLY GOOD THING ABOUT THAT SCHOOL I SWEAR PFTTT this experience has also awaken the merch beast in me and i need to make more physical things for my brain to be happy, that's just how it be pfttt

hopefully next year i can actually start like a shopee shop or whatever lmao

3. ART FIGHT

i'm actually quite happy i got to participate in art fight this year! very delighted for all the art i've gotten and very fun to have drawn for others too!!

4. ZINES

i got invited and joined so many zines from 2022 continuing to 2023 that i kind of got burnt out from participating for now ngl ASKSKSKS not gonna be joining much this year oopsiessss! (unless i lose self-control [very likely])

5. SCHOOL

i don't actually like a lot of the stuff i draw for art school bc i tend to cram and not have fun pftt <- adhd moment, tragic! but here are some that i actually kind of like lol

6. THAT'S IT!

i think that's it! thanks for reading all the way down here!! o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

[voxofthevoid]

Anniversary Poll 2: The Unfucking

Made the poll one day instead of one week in the OG post. Bad idea. I know my followers' habits, for one, and for another, there's no need to hurry for January plans. Here, the text of the original post reproduced:

So, it’s my two-year anniversary in the JJK fandom—specifically, writing for JJK. On 19th November 2022, around two weeks after finishing the anime and then devouring the manga in an uncharacteristic frenzy, I snapped further and wrote 2517 words for (you’ll whisper, serpent tongue) what you fear you have become.

I have, somehow, not gotten any less insane about JJK! I don’t know if I’ll make a whole third year here; that’s only happened with one fandom—the MCU. Regardless, two years is still more than I figured I’d spend here. My average length of stay is one year, barely. But between canon gripping me by the balls and my readers being absolute gems, here I fucking am ✨

Anyway, I’m not doing anything insane to celebrate, mostly because my usual method of letting y'all pick what I should write next won’t work when my current WIP is 80k and only halfway done. Instead, here’s a poll for which fic I should start posting next, once a slot in my current six-fic system frees up—specifically, your resistance, prophetic self-destruction will be done in December. I did have plans for what I’d post in its slot afterward, but let’s forget that.

You pick.

Unlike the last similar poll, I’ve included all my fics this time, not just the longfics. My fem!Gojou fic isn’t included because I intend to post it in December. That other train groping fic with age reversal is also not in the poll because I still may revisit that and add the remaining planned chapters.

Fic titles and one-line summaries are given under the cut, in the same order as in the poll:

your body language on me tells me to be unholy

How not to take your teenage student’s virginity, a live demonstration by Gojou Satoru.

i could keep your bed warm, otherwise i'm useless

There's a fine line between gods and monsters. The line between a monster's malice and a god's love is even finer. Yuuji learns this twice over.

break my patience, corrupt my sacred art

Gojou comes home drunk and proceeds to wage war on Yuuji’s sanity and dick.

the ghost in me was true (but you were haunted too)

Satoru loves a boy to death. Yuuji comes back wrong.

taking the flesh is the only virtue

Stress and trauma trigger Yuuji’s rut a few years too early. Kento’s too kind for his own good, while Satoru’s too curious for anyone’s good.

bloodstains on the collar means just don't ask

Yuuji has a type. Unfortunately, his uncle and his teacher embody that type.

the brute fact of flesh awaiting our teeth

Satoru embarks on a quest to seduce her hot giant of a teacher and continuously bites off more than she can chew.

(the euphoric taste of your tears) swallow it, darling

Yuuji is an unconventional teacher. Satoru still learns, for better or for worse.

[mania-sama]

Dear Kaeya, signed Diluc Ragnvindr

Final Duet - Omori

➼ information ❧ Genshin Impact ❧ Pairing: Diluc & Kaeya, Beidou & Diluc ❧ Tags: angst, implied/referenced torture, the crux fleet, letter-writing, second person ❧ Summary: A collection of the letters Diluc Ragnvindr sent to Kaeya Alberich during his three-year-long disappearance. They are scattered around the corners of Teyvat, either digested by an animal or hidden behind a painting in an apartment. If anyone can find them, please return them to the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius. You will be graciously rewarded. ❧ Word Count: 4,317 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 27 May 2022

Author Note:

Inspired by this tiktok

-

Dear Kaeya,

    This will never reach you. I assume it will be consumed by a whale or any other sea creature of sorts. I hope it’s not a catchable fish that people eat; then it might actually resurface. Whatever, it’s unlikely to get back to you anyway.

    I don’t know what to say. I’m going to run out of ink if I keep letting it go dry on my quill from hesitation. You would laugh and say that’s unlike me to hesitate. It is. I didn’t hesitate when I left the Knights of Favonius, I didn’t hesitate to attack you, I didn’t hesitate to leave Mondstadt. Why is it so hard for me to write what I mean, then? It doesn’t make sense. You would probably give me some bullshit answer for it.

    I don’t understand. Why did you have to hide it, for so long? I hate not knowing. You blindsided me, Kaeya. I thought you were all that I had left of my family, and then you told me even that wasn’t true. I don’t care that you were sent to be some spy. I care that you lied to me, just like everyone else did. Why did you have to be like everyone else?

    Whatever. It’s not like you can answer anyway. This was a horrible idea. I’m nowhere near done with my ink. I have plenty of paper left, it would be a waste to not use it all. Remember that one woman we talked to a few weeks ago? She always wrote down everything. She said it made her feel better. I don’t think this is making me feel better. I think it’s making me feel, and that’s worse than pretending like the pain doesn’t exist.

    I wonder if Father knew about your eye. Did you ever tell him? Or would you lie to me about that, too? It hurts. It makes me so angry, Kaeya. Did you even care? He treated you like a son, and I to you a brother. You always reciprocated. How much of it was a lie? How did you grow up to be such a shitty spy when it was your own purpose in our household? I don’t know what you’re doing now. I don’t know how I feel about it, which is worse. Your blood on my hands. Your Vision, it gave me frostbite, and it caused me to not feel your blood anymore.

    Good-bye, for now. I have plenty of paper and plenty of bottles. People are careless and leave their destruction everywhere. I suspect I will live just fine on my own. It would be more convenient, I guess, if I had my Vision to light a fire. Father’s Delusion does the same job. It just hurts my hands. It’s the strangest feeling. Pyro never hurt me. Does your Cryo? I’m sure it hurt when you received it.

    Good-bye,

        Diluc Ragnvindr

—

Dear Kaeya,

    I burned the last paper I tried to write this on with the Delusion by accident.  It’s hard to control this thing. It’s my legacy, though. It replaces where my Vision should be, even though it doesn’t feel the exact same. I can feel the tug of my Vision sometimes, especially when I’m using Father’s Delusion. You never saw it, the way he manipulated the Delusion. It was like an art form, but he pushed himself too far. He didn’t get to use it enough. I will not be like him. I will hone this weapon if it is the last thing I do in this world, which I assure you, it won’t be.

    It’s not the Fatui I’m after. Well, part of it is them, yes. It can’t all be them, though. There is more to this situation than meets the eye. It was crazed, vicious more than any creature could possibly be. It was sent to Mondstadt, I’m sure. If it weren’t for Father, many people would have died. The Knights wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

    I don’t miss being Cavalry Captain. Looking back on it, it only held me back. I imagine you have taken my position, if you still stayed in the Knights. You probably did. What, to spite me? You will only hinder yourself, in that case. Unless you plan on making the Ordo keep you more honest. I can’t imagine they’d let you stay if they knew the truth.

    Kill Eroch for me. I can’t think of anything else to say. Just kill him. If I see him, I’ll do it myself.

    Diluc R.

—

Kaeya

    I can’t stop thinking about your eyes. The golden one, and the blue one. No, not the left eye. Your new, blue Vision, the eye of God. It doesn’t match your traitor eye at all. It makes sense. Do you have my eye? Do you look at it, to see if I’m okay? It must’ve scared you to see it go pretty dull for a moment. I hope you tried to destroy my Vision. It would make me feel less guilty. What was the point? I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten.

Diluc 

—

Dear Kaeya,

    I burnt all of my paper by accident. I had to stop and get new ones, and then ink and a pen. It’s strange in Liyue. I mean, we’ve been before, but it’s different this time. I have a new outlook on it. I’m alone and searching for something that’s both abstract and very real at the same time. I have not forgotten the language, thankfully. I can keep conversation well while simultaneously leading myself on with my search.

    The locals make me a little angry. My temper seems to worsen these days, which doesn’t appeal to many people. When I reveal that I’m from Mondstadt, I’ve had more than a few locals go on to tell me about how they disapprove of the Anemo Archon’s decision, about how we are a godless nation. I find the irony in it unamussing when I relate it back to you. It’s also fairly unamussing in general. Despite having left, I still love Mondstadt. After hearing it for the third time, I may have engaged in an argument with a man about Mondstadt’s freedom and Liyue Harbor’s strict rules. If it were not for the fact that I had a Delusion and still struggle to summon its power, I’m sure the other man would’ve had scorch marks over his body.

    The food here tastes very good. I’ve never been a man to like foreign foods very much, but everything seems different in the flesh of it all. I just have to find the right place, and it really ends up not being too much different than home. No matter my foreign looks, accent, and such, I am still served in the same manners any other local would be. I’ve noticed the water tastes differently as well. Different sources wield different tastes. I became used to the water in Mond, but in Liyue, it is so much different. I can’t say I like it, but I don’t intend to stay for much longer. I suspect I’ll be back, but that is just to move from one place to another. The Harbor is like a hub of activity for all foreign nations. I can easily catch a boat from here to there.

    The history here is rich. That never bored you, did it? It was your favorite lesson. Aside from insulting Mond, the history of Liyue is one of the most favored topics. I believe I can learn a lot from the Harbor, from business to the creation of the world. I don’t have time for this right now, but one day, I’d like to be able to sit and embrace all of it. Discuss the cultural wines with the brewers, the history of the Adepti that protect the lands, and the business to contract marketplace that the Harbor runs on. Favors, it seems, that just happen to coincide with contracts, are what make the normal citizens trust each other. The crime rate is lower here, also. It’s something that was brought up in the Mondstadt versus Liyue debate. Personally, the stricter rules make the city feel tightened, like I can’t move.

    The music here is very different from Mondstadt’s. It’s not better or worse– just different. Their style of singing is more in the grandeur type, with an elevated stage with the paying people below it. Operas and concerts. They feel less personal, and the singing flows like a river. It’s extravagant, obviously well-tuned with a number of background instrumental musicians playing to support the main singer or musician. It is similar to the bards by what the music is about. They tell stories of their Adepti. While there are other people who do something similar, just not in the singing way. Story-tellers, very simply. Personally, if I wanted to hear a story, I would want to hear the whole thing in one sitting and not have to wait for a few days for the story-teller to tell the next part of the story.

    It’s amazing what I never knew about Liyue Harbor. I used to think I knew so much. Cavalry Captain at fifteen, Vision at eleven. I thought I knew the world. Liyue reminds me of how much I really don’t know. You need to come to Liyue Harbor sometime, and see it the way I do. I think you could benefit from the experience. Their Archon is much closer, they even speak to him once a year. Rex Lapis, they call him. You would have many questions for him, I have no doubt.

    Sincerely,

        Diluc Ragnvindr

—

Dear Kaeya,

    I’ve been on a ship before, but this is something entirely new. The Crux, an armed fleet of all-but-in-name pirates, possibly the most infamous fleet in all of Teyvat, is nothing like I expected it to be. It is well-maintained, and I do not doubt their prowess on the seas they rule over. They are just much different than I imagined.

    Talking can get you far, and skipping over unnecessary dialogue, I’ve learned, can get you even further. Saying the right things to the right people without any fluff in-between is how I was able to get on this ship, free of charge outside of the labor I must perform during the journey from Liyue to Inazuma. It’s truly amazing, Kaeya. The crew is very welcoming, if not eccentric in their ways. Typical of pirates, they drink to their heart's content, more than I’ve seen any drunkard in Mondstadt. Insane alcohol tolerances and were more than a little upset when I wouldn’t have my fair share.

    I believe the captain of this crew is what surprised me the most. She wears an eyepatch like you. Except, her story is completely different than yours. She claims she had a vicious battle with a very angry, very large sea crab that tried to take something she had actually stolen– she didn’t word it as stolen, but that was what she did– from the Tianquan Ningguang. I’m not inclined to believe any of what she’s said, even after the kindness she’s shown me. I have you and Eroch to thank for that.

    I don’t mean to be bitter. It’s just so easy. This dark sea is making me think about the winery, and with it all the reasons I’m aboard this ship in the first place. Inazuma is a few days away. I don’t know how long I can sit with these brooding thoughts, stewing in my own mixed emotions. All I can feel is anger most of the time, until I sit down to write. Then, my hand doesn’t want to move, and I’m left to think about what I’m really feeling.

    I don’t know what I want to say to you. Who is in the wrong for what happened that night? You hurt me a lot with what you said, and the day you chose to do it. I needed you.

—

Dear Kaeya,

    Captain Beidou introduced me to something called “depression.” It can be caused by the loneliness of the sea. She says that staying on ships for too long causes accidents to happen to crewmates. Or rather, they let the accidents happen. They want to feel something outside of the dark sea. The ship can get too quiet, even for its rowdiness. People don’t see their families on the land often.

    I don’t buy it, but she forced me to participate in activities to prevent this depression from sinking in. I had to take pictures, do these very strange exercises that I can safely say I never want to do again. I painted for the first time as well. I don’t know where she managed to get the much paint from. There is another significant figure on the ship as well, named Kazuha. He led poetry lessons. I’ve never been a fan of poetry.

    Captain Beidou has an Electro Vision, and he has an Anemo Vision. Though, that’s not all he has. He has something called a Masterless Vision, which can only be created when the owner of a Vision has passed on. He holds two Visions, a strange phenomenon. If I had kept my Vision, would it hold the same effect if I also kept my Delusion? I can use both, separately. I have never tried at the same time. After all of my time in Mondstadt and Liyue, I still know fairly little about Delusions. What I do know is enough to keep me from dying.

    The crew has told me an answer to my question that keeps resurfacing whenever I look into the ocean. I didn’t ask them, I just observed and learned from the way they interact. Who is in the wrong for that night? Neither of us, or both of us. You shouldn’t have betrayed and lied to me. I shouldn’t have tried to kill you and abandon you. I don’t know what I would say to you if I could see you now. My hand wants to write something, but my brain won’t supply anything. What is there to say, except admit our wrongdoings? Are you searching for the truth, too?

    Good night,

        Diluc R.

—

Dear Kaeya,

    Inazuma is stifling. It’s beautiful, I can’t deny that. From the shapes of the clouds to the subtle purple tint to the land, everything appears to be quite breath-taking. That is where the excitement ends.

    The Omnipresent God, they call the Raiden Shogun. This nation is the opposite of Liyue Harbor. The air is static, the government is imposing, and I always feel like there is someone watching me. I hide in the shadows. I shouldn’t be anywhere outside of Ritou, anyway, yet I’ve managed to make it to Inazuma City. This may be a mistake on my part, but I think I can get somewhere with this. I have already been able to steal a fair share of Inazuman clothing, so I can get around the city just fine as long as I stay out of the way. It is better if I am not seen regardless.

I have a few days until the Crux leaves again, this time to Snezhnaya, the land of the land of the Fatui. I have seen a few diplomats here, because they are able to pass by the Sakoku Decree, which we both knew about prior. They are still not well-liked by the citizens, but that is a given. None of the locals seem to like foreigners at all.

Inazuma, the Land of Eternity. The name makes Inazuma sound almighty, powerful, above-all. You and I bought into it. Inside the city, it makes the preconceived notion laughable. Kaeya, the nation is in shambles. The marketplace has monopolies scattered for every item, the prices extremely high that causes everyone outside of the military officials– one of the three commissions in the Tri- Commission– to starve. They are hostile to anyone that isn’t like them. They don’t like anyone who points out just how horrible the situation is.

There is a permanent storm in Inazuma. It started when the Crux reached the edge of the ocean that belongs to Inazuma. It fits the Electro Archon. The lightning cackled constantly in the sky, and it never stopped raining. In the little bits of privacy I could have on the Crux, I used my Delusion to dry myself off. It never did much, and it was of little comfort, but it helped hone my abilities with the Delusion. I have more control, and it doesn’t hurt anymore. It only hurts when I overextend and lose the tight fist I have on it.

In regards to my search, I have not faltered. I think I have something with these three Fatui Diplomats that like to talk just a little too much. I haven’t been discovered yet. I hear the talk of the Harbingers, officers of the Fatui with absolute control and mad power. Better than that, I have heard that there is a group of people causing Fatui great amounts of trouble.

The Crux leaves in a day for the next nation, Snezhnaya. That is where I need to go. Kaeya, my Pyro Vision left me resistant to the cold. I wonder if my Delusion can hold up the same.

Sincerely,

    Diluc Ragnvindr

—

K

    Captain Beidou, very irritatingly, has found out about my letters to you and insists that she carry one out to the person I am writing to. She says the bottles won’t work, and I told her that that was the whole point. Under the very real threat that I get thrown overboard, I am being forced to write out this letter specifically for her to deliver.

    Didn’t I mention how little privacy this ship has? A very imposing figure is standing over my shoulder as I write this. She gasped just now. And smeared ink all over the paper. Please, send your best regards to Captain Beidou.

    As I said, I am leaving for Snezhnaya. I don’t remember being overly fond of their food, but I said that about Liyue Harbor, and I felt the same about Inazuman delicacies. I am noticing a pattern. I can’t continue doing this.

        Diluc R.

—

Dear Kaeya,

    There are many things to regret over the extent of my life. I regret not being strong enough to protect Father, I regret having never learned the truth about you earlier on in life, and I regret trying to kill you. I regret that I gave you a Vision, because that meant I became a truly wicked person. Finally, I regret my last letter to you, and this one as well. I didn’t get to say what I wanted then, for such foolish reasons. Now, I still can’t say what I want.

    Unforeseen circumstances have arisen. There isn’t much I can explain, even though I know this bottle will lead nowhere special to anyone at any time. I wish I could say more, that I can tell you more. This is my last letter to you, Kaeya, until I am released from my chosen binds. This will never reach you, which is why I feel the confidence to say this:

    I am sorry, Kaeya.

        Diluc Ragnvindr

—

To Cavalry Captain Kaeya Alberich of the Ordo Favonius,

I am coming home.

D.R.

—

A crumpled piece of paper was hidden in a slot behind one of the many paintings Kaeya Alberich had in his apartment in inner city of Mondstadt. Every few days, if you looked into the darkened windows of the apartment, you could see the esteemed Cavalry Captain unhook a painting of an old prize horse of the Dawn Winery years ago from the wall. Carefully, he would undo the back of the painting, pulling out a piece of paper that had survived several years of abuse from its current owner.

Then, the Cavalry Captain would move to his kitchen table and sit down in one of the six seats available. He would smooth out the paper on the table and place his hand on top of it for several seconds. Eventually, he would lift his hand and read the contents written on the piece. The words were hardly visible after the years it had seen and the conditions it was written under. But if you were to ask Captain Kaeya himself, he would say that the eligibility didn’t matter; he’d memorized the words a long time ago.

After only a few moments of reading, the captain’s shoulders would start to shake. A hand would come up to support his forehead, and another hand would move the paper out from under him. It was done to protect the precious paper from being stained by Kaeya’s tears.

If you were to ask the captain about the contents of the paper, he would not give the real answer. He would make up a fictitious lie supported by the supposed backstory of his eyepatch, laced in old pirate tales and hidden treasures. If you were to read the paper yourself, you would find an innocent letter addressed to nobody in particular, detailing a person passive-aggressively being forced to write the words on the paper by their superior. It was signed, “Diluc R.”

The real story behind the letter couldn’t be brought from Kaeya’s mouth. If you wanted the truth, you would have to trek to Liyue Harbor and find the Captain of the Crux Fleet: Captain Beidou. She would have no qualms telling the story behind the letter, even finding the situation to be quite humorous despite the way Captain Kaeya had always reacted.

She would say: “Well, it all started when a young man with a bright, red mane like flames climbed on my ship. We were Inazuma-bound, but this didn’t phase him. The kid had guts– Hell, he probably still does. He was pretty skeptical and had a temper wilder than any hurricane I’ve ever braved, but that only made him an easier target for the crew and I. Oh, the teasing!

“I knew he was writing the letters long before I told him. Nothing escapes me on my fleet! Ha ha! I remember how embarrassed he was when I told him! I forced him to write out a letter, but of course it wasn’t as serious as it normally was. Left out the name it was addressed to and everything! Claimed I would never be able to deliver it to the right person! So of course I took the challenge. I had him package it up in an old wine bottle like he usually did, then once I dropped him off in Snezhnaya, the crew and I made a detour to good ole’ Mondstadt.

“You see, it wasn’t hard to track down who the letter was addressed to. Everyone was up in arms over the fact that their famous Diluc, having just disappeared from Mond, had been with the Crux Fleet! I did my best to hide any details of his true whereabouts or what he had been doing with me, because I would never betray one of my own, even for someone who lived as shortly with me as he did.

“From there, I got the letter address down to two people of interest, Sir Kaeya and Master Jean, both of the Ordo Favonius. Thanks to my great memory, I recalled the kid scratching out the letter K when he was writing the personal address. So I delivered the letter in the bottle dutifully! Sir Kaeya wasn’t as happy as I was. He actually took the letter with poorly hidden sorrow and guilt. I wanted to stay around for his reaction, but I know where lines shouldn’t be crossed. After having a few drinks at the famous Angel’s Share and meeting with Master Jean, my crew and I returned on our route. There is your story about the little letter a fiery kid on my ship wrote to a few years ago!

“To be fair, I thought they were love letters at first. The angry, no-nonsense Diluc having a little crush back at home? Hilarious! It’s weird to think that now, though, since I know they were brothers and all that. I wonder if those other bottles had ever gotten to Sir Kaeya?”

None of the bottles had been recovered by Captain Kaeya, nor were any found and returned to him. He had never stopped searching the beach for the supppsed other bottles mentioned by both Captain Beidou and the letter itself. He can still be found wandering the shorelines of Mondstadt during his free time, pants rolled up and wading into the water to try and find at least one bottle. This learned behavior never left him, even after Master Diluc of the Dawn Winery returned to Mondstadt.

If you were to ask Master Diluc about the letters he wrote to Captain Kaeya, he would deny having ever done anything. It became well-known in Mondstadt that the two men didn’t get along upon the wine master’s return, but it can’t help but be wondered: if they were both made aware of the others’ viewpoint of the letters, the receiver and the writer, would something change between them? The question would forever be left unanswered, for the two could never be seen talking in any manner other than impolite jabs and heartless arguments.

Somewhere, in the very corner of Teyvat where the gods can’t cast their judging eyes, a bottle washes up to the shore. A man picks it up, pale with blue eyes mimicking the stars and hair ashy blond. He runs his hands over the bottle and examines it carefully before popping the cork that had sealed it shut. He pulls out the letter inside, reads it, and smiles. He pockets it gently, a new destination and person in mind for him to travel to: Cavalry Captain Kaeya Alberich of the Ordo Favonius.

[redstringraven]

(template by peppertode!) (i attempted to include alt text, but exceeded the limit once i hit september. sorry about that! all pieces should have alt text in their individual posts tho!)

my 2024 art summary! 🖤🌷

over on bluesky, i mentioned that while i don't feel like i got ""a lot"" done this year, i DO feel like the overall quality of the pieces i did finish has improved! it's been a long road getting back on my artistic feet, and i think i'm finally, finally starting to settle into a workflow and process that really clicks for me.

the year began on an extremely sour and discouraging note for me, but i've started planting roots again and am even more determined to make like a mint plant and continue existing out of sheer stubbornness and spite. starting in june, i had the privilege of helping out tmnt4p and working with some lovely and generous people, as well as getting to be a part of my first big zine (so excited and humbled!!! fantastic creators here!!). i've also been throwing questions at other oc-owners, both in and out of tmnt spaces, and it's been utterly delightful getting to learn about y'all's characters and your thought processes around them!! and thank you so much for firing some of your own questions right back at me! it's been so much fun.

i won't pretend like i don't have some kind of dread toward the upcoming year, but one of my methods of escapism IS continuing to work on and build my characters, stories, and worlds, so i'm gonna keep doing my best to put that energy into some form of creation. some of the major things i'd like to do this year--aside from oc profiles--is start working regular, timed studies into my art routine, as well as do more pieces with full environments (like the ones from april, september & october). we'll see! creative whims are strange creatures, and i'm also easily distracted by memes. gonna keep an art journal, too! so i can not only reflect on my art, but do a bit of self-evaluation and find focus points to improve on!

thank y'all so much for coming along with me, and for just generally lasting another loop around that flaming ball in the sky we call a sun. you're awesome. do no harm, but take no shit. ✌✨

2023 2022

[discourse-evolved]

Oh it's been a while since I've broken this bad boy blog out of the sewers.

But hey, let's talk about the mcyt fandom.

Truly, joining Twitter in 2021 was one of the worst steps back for my mental health that I had in a while. Did I meet a ton of really amazing, incredibly talented writers and artists, much easier than I ever did on Tumblr? Yeah! Sure! But I also experienced such an incredibly deep sense of anxiety when every fucking move I made was potentially aired to hundreds of people, which made me realize why I hate Twitter so much.

Scrolling through Tumblr I don't feel any sense of legitimate fear if I like a post to go back to it later, because no one else can see that and accuse me of liking a potentially "problematic" artist or blog. I can spend some of my downtime scrolling through the intriguing, silly mess that is my dashboard and go back to that post that I felt was sus later to see what it was really about.

I understand that people are always nervous about interacting with people that they don't agree with things on. The problematic ones, the ones with weird and uncommon kinks, the ones that make people uncomfortable, but the sheer amount of rampant paranoia I saw within the mcyt fandom on twitter in 2021-2022 felt like the end of fandom as I knew it.

And with a fandom like mcyt, I get it! Dealing with real people and the characters built off of them and especially with content creators who are SO deeply entwined and connected to their audience is much more difficult terrain to traverse when it comes to the taboo.

But seeing the way that so many people got so caught up in wild witch hunts was pretty fuckin terrible too. An errant ao3 bookmark, an off-color comment, an idea from people who weren't familiar with the fandom at large and the content creators' different specific boundaries, and they would be attacked en masse.

I fuckin hated it. I hated it so much. But I couldn't say anything about it, even if I didn't agree with the person myself, because defending someone against the mass dehumanization from the rest of the fandom would mean that I went down with them.

And that, at its core, is something that deeply concerns and scares me. Because at the end of the day, who and what is fanfic, even problematic ones, hurting? No one who doesn't read it. And with a site like ao3 with tags and warnings and summaries, that should be happening less and less, if people just use it properly.

I'm not saying there weren't weird people in the fandom that I would prefer to not to interact with myself, and I'm not going to say that I people should be forced to interact with people who make them uncomfortable.

But, I am saying that far too many people in that fandom were ready to dehumanize anybody who stepped even slightly out of bounds, which is something that no one deserves.

I could really go on and on about this topic and the purity culture that exists within the mcyt fandom, but by god I'm not mentally ready for that rn. Just remember that weird people are people too and don't deserve to die because of fiction that they thought up/made art of/wrote down.

[theartofknightjj]

2023: year 12 of my art summaries and the year that proved hard work pays off. At the start of the year I told myself I’d work really hard and give it one more shot to become a comic artist. So that’s what I did! After countless of 7 day work weeks and over 1500 panels I’m able to call myself a full time comic artist now. Something I wouldn’t have even believed was possible so quickly. 2023 truly was the year of the rabbit year of Pierre! 🐰🔥 For the first time in a long time I’m truly happy with how my year went. So much changed yet for the better. Not only in my work but also on a personal front I was very brave this year. I travelled and met a bunch of new people and overall feel so much more solid in myself as a person. I have a lot set up for 2024 already and I’m really excited to be able to show you!! Happy new year everyone. Thank you for making dreams come true this year. ❤️

Previous summaries: [2011] [2012] [2013] [2014] [2015] [2016] [2017] [2018] [2019] [2020] [2021] [2022]

[biconickyoshi]

The boys! 🔥🌪

So I got a Huion drawing tablet this summer but never ended up doing much with it due to how intimidating Clip Studio Paint is lol. This weekend, however, I finally sat down and watched some YouTube tutorials, and behold! We have Zuko and Aang as they appear at the start of my Zukaang AU, The Avatar and the Fire Prince!

Just a quick summary again for those who have not read it: this is an AU where Zuko and Iroh discover Aang in the iceberg shortly after Zuko is banished at age 13 in 96 AG, so they're only one year apart. It's an enemies-to-friends-to-lovers slowburn that will eventually follow a similar course to the canon events of the show, just with more focus on Zuko & Aang's friendship and eventual romance.

23 chapters of TAatFP are currently posted, the most recent of which is The Fortuneteller (a chapter I have been so excited to adapt since I started this fic in early 2022)!

I used to draw AtLA fan art allllll the time when the show was still airing, and I used to draw more in general in high school, but this is the first time I've really tried to seriously draw in nearly a decade, and also my first time really making any art digitally that I feel looks good enough to post.

That being said, I'm quite proud of what I was able to do. I very much tried to make Zuko look like he's 13, and I think I did a pretty decent job? Also I got very lazy with the shading... I just kinda put it where I thought it needed to go, so sorry if it looks wonky lol.

I'm going to try to do more of these character sheet-ish type things to show what Aang and Zuko are going to look like as they continue to grow up throughout my AU, and if I get really ambitious, I might even try to draw pivotal scenes...

Btw if any of y'all ever decide to draw fan art of my fic, PLEASEEEE tag me in it because I would absolutely love to see it!

[wizards1977]

Another year’s summary of art 😮‍💨

The first half of this year was devastatingly bad in my personal life, but after moving states things got significantly better. I’m actually surprised I was able to make as much art as consistently as I did considering everything that happened.

Onwards and upwards I suppose 🖼️

2023 2022 2021 2020 2019 and earlier

[statustemporary]

free fallin' - Chapter 2

STORY SUMMARY: On a dark and stormy Halloween night 27 years ago, five people stepped onto an elevator. They never stepped off.

Now 28, Emma Swan and her son Henry work together to discover what caused her parents and the other inhabitants to suddenly disappear.

//rewrite of previous work, expanded to a multi-chapter.

RATING: Teen+

WORD COUNT: 3,564

TAGS: Captain Swan, Tower of Terror AU, CSSNS 2022, Graphic Depictions Of Terrifying Sights in Chapter 1, no beta we die like killian jones,

AO3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: ha ha... oops. it's been two years since i updated this. life's crazy and my passion for ouat has faded but i'm determined to finish all my posts WIPs and maybe get my WIP folder on my laptop emptied onto here. i'm trying.

this has changed drastically from the film, mainly because i messed things up in the first chapter but oh well lol. similar premise but obviously things are a free-for-all now in my story. wish me luck trying to finish this lol.

not really sure how i'm feeling about this chapter so i'm sorry in advance if it doesn't live up to expectations! here's to the next one eventually!

enjoy!

***

Uncle James lives in a swanky townhouse just a few blocks from the heart of Storybrooke. The front windows of the place have a magnificent view of the hills in the distance while the back windows peered out at the Hollywood Tower Hotel like a taunt.

Emma hated growing up there.

The entire place felt too modern and unlived. Uncle James refused to have any sentimentality in his living space. No art projects on the fridge, no souvenirs from trips, and definitely no family photos. The farthest he went with décor was a floating shelf of ratty books in Latin. She wondered if what happened that Halloween night 27 years ago haunted him and that’s why he refused any reminder of his twin. Did the mirror play just as cruel of a joke?

Oddly enough, she did stumble upon a picture of her mother in his bedside drawer when she was eight. Mary Margaret looked stunning, her degree placard from Harvard held tightly in her hand with a bouquet of flowers cradled in her opposite elbow. Her graduation gown was flowing in the wind and her smile was positively radiant.

Uncle James caught her looking at the photo and he ripped it from her grasp. She never saw it again.

Not much about the townhouse has changed over the years, including the man residing inside of it. Uncle James remains aloof and standoffish to the point Emma wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot he had a niece at all.

His car, a sleek black sports convertible, is parked out front and it feels promising, even if she dreads the upcoming conversation. It takes a great effort to place one foot in front of the other as she approaches the entrance, her feet feeling as heavy as lead. The sickening weight in her heels is the only thing to prevent her from running back to her car after pressing the doorbell.

Uncle James looks surprised and disappointed to see her on his doorstep. His shoulders visibly drop and his mouth ticks down in a frown. “Emma?”

She flashes a quick smile at him.

“Uncle James, hi. How are you?”

He cuts straight to the point, narrowing the opening of the door so that only a sliver of his body is visible. “What are you doing here?”

The sigh that leaves her lips makes him close the door another inch. “Can we talk inside?”

“Actually Emma, I’m about to leave for – ”

He’s wearing pajamas. And a bathrobe. She swallows down the anger that’s brewing, the almost two decades of resentment towards his willful absence, and steels her shoulders. “I need to talk to you about my parents.” That catches his attention.

Paranoia, or maybe it’s PTSD, seems to take over her uncle as he pales and ushers her inside his townhome, head ducking out the door and swiveling around before he slams it shut and locks it. He brings her to the kitchen and offers her some alcohol as he makes his own drink. She remembers being thirteen and him offering her some of his rum and coke when he realized they had no orange juice in the fridge. The drink disgusted her and he got angry when she spit it in the sink. They never ran out of orange juice after that.

“So…” he begins. His hands are tense where they’re splayed on the kitchen island’s marble countertop. There’s a wild gleam in his eyes that unsettles Emma but she doesn’t know where to place it. She knows reporters, both professional and amateur, have hunted her down and pressured her for a statement, an interview, anything. Had they done the same to her uncle? “What were you saying about your parents?”

“Do you remember that night?” she asks. Uncle James sighs and drops his head.

“I could never forget it.” Defeat thickens his voice as his shoulders grow rigid. He shudders and takes a deep breath before looking up at her. “What about it?”

Emma shifts in her seat. “Can you tell me about it? From your perspective?” He looks ready to deny her so she pulls out the card up her sleeve. “It’s for Henry. He’s doing a project in school.”

“Ah,” he murmurs. A shadow crosses over his face as he collects his thoughts. “There’s not much to say from what I saw, really. I arrived early because my polo club cancelled our game. I saw Mayor Mills, exchanged a few words about the party at the Tip Top Club. I was on the stairs with some fancy drink from the patio bar when I saw your parents head into the elevator. David and I hadn’t talked in a few months but Mary Margaret invited me to the party.” Emma feels herself soften as her uncle smiles absently as he remembers her parents. “Obviously she didn’t tell him I was coming and he was glaring at me. He still hadn’t moved on from our fight. I raised my glass to them, a peace offering. Then the elevator doors closed and that was it… That was the last time I saw them.”

“Did you see anything else that night?” she asks, leaning her elbows atop the island. “Anything strange or… unusual?”

He shakes his head as he looks down at his drink. Silence follows for a beat and then another and Emma’s afraid she’s lost her uncle to his memories of the past. “The lights went out not long after I saw them get on the elevator.” She nods. “Honestly, I thought people were crazy when they said all of them were cursed. I mean, magic?!” He huffs out a laugh of disbelief. A pause and then his face darkens. “If there’s any inkling to that notion, I’d wager on Regina.”

Huh. Emma’s brows pinch together as she mulls that sentence over in her head. The sudden drop of formality with the former mayor was odd. For all the time she lived with Uncle James, he never mentioned Regina before today, much less by name. He never mentioned any of the others either but the way he spoke now hinted at a history. A nasty one at that.

Her mouth opens to ask another question but Uncle James shakes his head and downs the remainder of his drink in one go. “I think it’s time you left, Emma. It was nice seeing you.”

He disappears around the corner to his bedroom at the back of the townhouse before Emma has a chance to say any departing words. Resigned, she gently places her cup in the dishwasher and sees herself out.

***

The late morning air hangs heavy around the hotel. Emma stands outside on the sidewalk, head tilted back as she takes in the massive structure. In reality, she never thought she’d come here, let alone twice in as many days. She checks her watch to confirm she has a few hours before Henry gets out of school. The last thing she wants is for him to be back here.

“Uh…” a voice sounds to her left and Emma turns just in time to see her son stop short, eyes widen, and his body swivel back the way he came.

“Henry!” she calls out in frustration. She watches his small body freeze and tense up as she comes upon him.

He grins small but innocently up at her. “Ha ha… Hi, Mom.”

“What are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be in school today!”

“Well about that…” he laughs nervously. She says his name in warning and he winces, opening his mouth ready to spew an inventive explanation when they hear a creaking behind them.

The metal gate to the hotel opens slowly and the chain-link keeping it closed snakes down to the ground in an exhausted heap. She blinks rapidly at the scene before her, her mouth dropping open in shock. That… shouldn’t happen.

Maybe the chains were just rusted and finally gave way, she tried to reason with herself. Maybe LJ forgot to lock back up after everything yesterday.

So lost in her thoughts, Emma didn’t realize Henry had moved away until she saw his small figure squeezing through the open fence and running up the hill to the hotel. “Henry!” she yells out. Running is her thing – running away from emotions, commitment, the whole shebang. Apparently, her son inherited that from her, just literally.

The bottles of holy water in the pocket of her leather jacket are justled by her running up the driveway. Sage in her bag bumps against her hip. Her gun rests heavily in her holster.

Emma’s eyes scan the landscape furiously.

“Henry!” she calls out. She evens her breathing and rests one hand on her hip where her firearm rests in case some crazy person is behind all this and has Henry.

“Hurry up, Mom!”

Emma turns the last bend of the driveway and lets out a deep sigh. Henry stands in front of the entrance to the hotel bouncing on the balls of his feet. He impatiently waves her over, eyeing the locked front doors.

“You know,” she starts, “I think I should bring you to Granny’s right now. Let her watch over you and see if you try to skip school again.”

Henry whines, head thrown back in exasperation. “But Moooooom! These are your parents!”

“Henry, come on. You can’t really believe that.” Emma bends down in front of him and takes hold of his arms, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles even as her heart bleeds. “My parents disappeared so long ago… This can’t be them.”

“But it is!”

“Henry…”

“What about yesterday?! You believed it was their ghosts when they scared us out of here!”

“Ghosts don’t exist, Henry. How do you explain that, huh? Magic?” She deflates as her son mumbles to himself and looks to the ground. Softening her tone, she continues, “It would be really cool if magic was real but it’s not. Those are probably just projections some twisted loser made to scare people. Okay?”

“Are you calling us Jem and the Holograms?”

They jump at the sudden appearance of a third voice, their heads turning to see Killian Jones leaning halfway through the closed front door.

Emma’s breath stutters while Henry starts, “What the –”

“Tsk, tsk,” Killian taunts. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

She panics. Her hand flies to her bag and she pulls out the holy water, uncapping the bottle and surging the water towards the door.

It seemingly goes through his body, the blessed water streaming down the front door, but he jerks at the sensation.

Then Killian starts to groan, writhing in pain. The half of his body positioned through the door begins to curl in on itself as gurgling from his throat becomes audible. Emma stares – watching and waiting for smoke to sizzle from his frame or for him to disappear but nothing happens.

Until the gurgling changes sound and it becomes clear it’s transitioned into laughter.

Killian raises his head, smirking in glee. “Holy water? Really? I know I’m devilishly handsome but you didn’t really think that’d work.”

The photos never did his smirk justice, she realizes. And all she wants to do is smack it right off his face. With a growl, she stands up straight and marches right through Killian to the front door, pulling the spare key LJ gave her from her pocket.

“Chills, darling,” Killian whispers in her ear. The air shifts around her. Despite the absence of any breath ghosting over her skin, she can feel the way a smirk dances across his lips and the whole thing makes her angrier.

Click. The key sits just perfectly in the lock and the door swings open. She strides inside, Henry following excitedly behind her.

Her back straight as a rod, she places her hands on her hips and stares down the… beings in the hotel lobby.

“Not the friendliest lady, huh?” Killian drawls from behind her.

Henry takes immediate offense. “Hey, that’s my mom!”

“Apologies, lad,” Killian tosses carelessly over his shoulder as he heads towards the bar.

“Enough!” Emma calls out roughly. She narrows her gaze, her voice dropping an octave. “Who the hell is behind this?”

Regina sighs, sitting regally on a cobweb infested armchair in the center of the lobby. She examines her nails with more interest than her voice provides in an answer. “If she weren’t dead, I’d say my sister.”

“Regina!” Mary Margaret quietly admonishes from David’s side near the luggage cart.

“What?” Regina asks, her eyes thinning to slits and lips turning downward. “You’ve met the witch. A house should’ve fell on her sooner.”

“She was really a witch?!” Henry asks, practically bouncing in place from excitement.

Regina scoffs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually was.”

“Magic isn’t real,” Emma grits out. She moves just slightly in front of Henry, eyes flicking between the Jones brothers and Regina. “Now explain who is putting on this sick joke because they’ve got a nice harassment charge waiting for when I bring them down to the sheriff’s office. It’d be a pity to add evading arrest to that as well.”

“Well,” states Liam from where he’s reviewing a check-in book. “Once you find out, let us know. I’d like to have a chat with the lad as well.”

“Seriously,” she continues. She puts her hands on her hips to further assert her authority and presses hard enough that she’s sure the skin under her jeans is colorless. “This isn’t funny. Tell me.”

Killian tsks. The sound is quickly growing to be her most hated. “As pretty as you are to look at, lass, I think the peace and quiet was better. I’d have told you if I knew.”

David scoffs, crossing his arms. “Leave the girl alone, Jones. You’re nothing but a drunk – she wouldn’t waste the time with you anyway.”

There’s a shout of indignation from the other side of the room and then the entire lobby erupts into chaos. The Jones brothers jump to the other’s defense as David tosses insults back and forth. Regina adds her own one-liners to the disappointment of Mary Margaret. Their own disagreement drags David into it as well, and he manages to fight off both Regina and the Jones brothers as if a skilled swordsman against multiple enemies.

Words no longer decipherable, Emma subtly steps to the side, one eye on the group and the other searching, investigating. Caution rolls deep within her and she keeps one hand resting on her holstered firearm. Ghosts aren’t real. There’s no such thing. Holy water didn’t do a damn thing.

Sophisticated projector is what she’s looking for, then. They have to be holograms or AI or something that digitally recreated five tragically unsolved missing people, for the pure enjoyment of scaring others. She bets that there’s some YouTube channel that showcases Hollywood Tower Hotel scares, run by whoever is doing this.

Emma’s gaze scans the walls of the outdated hotel.

It didn’t hit her last time, too busy scared for their lives to really pay attention, but the floral wallpaper pulls from the moldings. The green background has faded and the white flowers accenting it yellowed. Burnt out lamps with golden shades sit atop wooden tables covered in layers of dust.

The sound of something rustling wafts through the air but the group of beings either don’t hear it or don’t care. If she follows the sound, though, she might find the ‘genius’ behind it all. Her eyes narrow on a closed oak door near the hallway to the main floor ballroom.

A once golden sign looks like a beat-up bronze, the fake bright finishing having flaked off over the years. Coat Closet. Likely place for someone to setup their gadgets.

The vinyl flooring crackles under her feet as she moves towards the it.

Her head turns at an echoing pair of footsteps and a quick glance back confirms Henry treads closely behind.

The wooden door swings open with a creak. Emma splays her hand against the rough wallpaper and feels around until she hits the light switch. Flickering yellow light fills the cramped space. Pink wool carpet stained from age and buckling wood paneling buried behind huge swaths of clothing greet them first before the smell of must hits their noses.

Henry shrieks and jumps back at the sight of a large rat scurrying over fraying paper and escaping through the lobby.

Great. Nothing in the closet except a rat and leftover coats from that night…

Emma was only a baby when her parents disappeared on Halloween night at the Hollywood Tower Hotel. Grandma Ruth, overwhelmed in her grief, packed up all of their things and tucked them away in a storage unit out of town. Out of sight didn’t mean out of mind, though, and Emma served as a reminder of her broken heart every day, until she couldn’t handle it anymore and went into an eternal sleep.

By the time Emma was old enough to know and inquire about her parents’ things, Grandma Ruth’s storage unit had been auctioned off due to lack of payments.

Aside from a small box of things brought to her Uncle James’ place alongside her diaper bag, everything her parents owned was gone.

Being at the hotel, at the place where she lost them before she could even know them, Emma wants something to hold of theirs. The only thing she has of her mother’s is a pink cardigan, left at Granny’s apartment during a dinner once. Soft, powdery fragrance once enveloped the fabric but has long since faded. Now the small cardigan hangs on her coat rack as a reminder of what is so far from her grasp.

But maybe… maybe in this place seemingly suspended in time… she could have something.

Her eyes have studied the photographs of the night well enough that, once she looks towards the coats, she immediately recognizes the red scarf.

Tucked around the neck of a shimmering floor-length dark coat, the red scarf sticks out in a sea of navy and black. It calls to her and Emma’s fingers slowly reach out. The coat ticket says 191, the black jacket kept close stating 192 most likely belonging to her father.

The fabric is cool to the touch and though spiders and moths have left their mark elsewhere in the hotel, the state of the coat closet is pristine. Could it hold the smell? The perfume Emma has spent half her life looking for? The only thing that reminds her of her mother’s embrace. Of comfort and security and love.

She pulls both coats off the hanger and holds her mother’s up, her nose nearly to the scarf –

“Hey!” Henry calls from behind her.

Emma turns swiftly, her eyes locking in on the beings crowding their way towards them. Her hand shoots out and grabs Henry’s arm, pulling him swiftly behind her.

“Hey,” Mary Margaret echoes quietly. Her brows furrow together as she takes in the sight before her. “That’s my coat.”

Mary Margaret’s hand reaches towards the coat but Emma jerks it back towards her, feeling oddly protective of the thing. The smell of the scarf hits her nose and she rustles the coats in her arms for a better grip, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

“Hey,” her watery voice sounding loud in the tight closet as the others look at her in wide-eyed shock. “Don’t crowd us in here. I’m – ”

“Emma,” David breaths out, her entire body deflating.

Emma blinks, hesitating for a moment. “David?” she asks. “You… remember?”

Tears flood his eyes as he gives her a soft smile. “Of course.”

A fluttering lightness fills Emma’s chest as he steps forward, smile still on his face.

It’s incredible, she thinks to herself. How her father could just know it was her despite all the time that had passed. Maybe this is his ghost and this is her closure.

Emma nearly drops the coats as her father takes another step…

Until he bends down onto one knee and picks something up from the floor. A polaroid.

“We’ve never been able to get in here,” David whispers, more to himself than to her and Henry. He stares at the polaroid as tears roll down his cheeks and a shaky hand comes up to cover his mouth. Mary Margaret leans in close, her own eyes filling, and she rests her head on his arm.

Acting every part the proud father, David shows the others what the polaroid is. “This is our daughter,” he begins, looking up with a wide, watery grin and turning the polaroid towards her and Henry.

The film is slightly overexposed and a person stands in the background more a blur than a defining figure. In the center stands, with help of the mystery figure, a small Emma barely a year old with a spattering of light hair atop her head and a gummy grin directed right at the camera.

“Her name is – ”

“Emma,” she finishes in a rushed, exhausted breath. Looked over by her own baby photo. Damn.

She clutches the coats tighter to her center and Henry looks up at her, confused. “But – ”

“We’re leaving.” Emma frees one hand to grab Henry’s arm and pulls him through the closet, through the ghastly chill of the projected beings in the hotel, and out the front door.