#when this Logan didn't recognize her as someone he knows

[androidkisser]

I wonder what Laura was thinking when she found Logan in that Honda Odyssey. Logan, the man who died protecting her and whom she buried when she was only 9.

[pinkestofpanthers]

here's more logan thoughts of mine...

having to explain to logan that there's a common belief among people that if you're able to tie a knot into the stem of a maraschino cherry, that you must be a good kisser.

in your defense, it was all pretty innocent. logan found himself stumbling into the kitchen and noticed you standing at the counter with rogue nearby. placed out in front of the both of you were two glasses filled halfway with ice, two cans of ginger ale, a bottle of grenadine, and a small jar of maraschino cherries. before he could even say it, you recognized him lurking and spoke,

"shirley temples. rogue mentioned how she hasn't had one in forever and i decided to play bartender tonight," you grinned and cracked open the can of soda.

"i see. you make it with ginger ale?" he asked, eyes glancing to the can in your hand.

"that's how they were originally made. ginger ale, some grenadine, and a couple of cherries to add more flavor. want one?" though you asked nicely, he declined the offer and made his way to the fridge.

"you know," he said, rummaging through the fridge, "i heard shirley temple herself didn't even like the drink. also heard they never served it to her."

rogue chuckled to herself as she spooned cherries out of the jar. "of course you would know, you were probably there when they first invented it," she laughs. you tried to hold back your laughter as you looked to logan, who just waved the girl off and made some comment about her being too young to know who shirley temple was.

suddenly, rogue's attention was turned to you, as she called your name and asked if she could ask you 'something silly'. of course, you nodded, listening to whatever the girl had to say next.

"do you know how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue?" she looked to you as she twirled a stem between her pointer finger and thumb.

your eyes went wide, trying to think of a response. you didn't know exactly why she was asking. was she genuinely curious, or was she going to follow up by asking if you heard of the 'is it true that if you're able to tie a cherry stem with your tongue than it means you're a good kisser?' myth.

you tell her that you can't remember if you ever tried to. after all, you don't necessarily eat the cherries for the stems.

"makes sense. apparently only fifteen percent of people are able to do it," she shot back, now discarding the stem into the garbage.

"where did you even hear that?" you turned to her, as she just shrugged and grabbed a straw for her glass.

"is that the new party trick now? tying cherry stems with our tongues?" logan clears his throat, as he makes his way to sit down across from the two of you.

"you're old enough to know the shirley temple didn't like the drink named after her, but you don't know about tying cherry stems with your tongue?" she deadpanned.

logan, looking confused as ever, is trying to make sense of what she's saying but after a while, rogue realizes the can of worms she's opened has just led to more confusion and regrets even asking about it. she excuses herself from the kitchen, mumbling something about going to find bobby, and left you alone to work on your drink. you couldn't help but notice how logan was staring at your every move.

"i'm still confused," he spoke up after sitting in silence for a few minutes. you knew exactly what he was talking about, it wasn't as if any other conversation had taken place within the time that rogue left the kitchen, so you decided to clue him in.

"just a stupid little rumor someone made up, a common idea that if you know how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue then you must be a really good kisser," you explained, taking a cherry out of the jar and popping it in your mouth. he responds with a 'hm' and watches as you take the stem and put it in your mouth. after a minute of praying that your high school memories would serve you justice, you grabbed the cherry stem from between your teeth, showing logan the knot you made.

his expression remains the same as he looks at you, then the stem being held in the palm of your hand, and to you again. he smirks, and that's when he questions,

"but it's just a myth, right?"

"i mean, i've never put the theory to the test. you wanna see for yourself?" you try him, thinking he would just laugh you off and continue to joke about it. his response this time being clearer than before,

"i was only hoping you would ask, hun."

p.s., i tried posting this on another account and for some reason tumblr did not push it??? wtf, anyways, here you go. thanks for the love on the last little blurb i posted!

[everythingne]

DRUNK WALK HOME - MV1

Your relationship with your teammate is non-existent at best. Since you've joined Red Bull, a second driver thrown in last second, Max has kept a wide berth. He's more interested in himself... well, until he spots your ex-boyfriend getting a bit too rough with your tipsy self at a bar in Monaco.

max verstappen x racer!fem!reader (can be viewed romantic or platonic)

warnings/notes: drunkenness, physical violence, implied attempted assault, implied drink spiking, sort of 'dark' fiction, hurt/comfort (guys i can write angst but we need happy endings ok?), reader's looks are not described/image used in the header is not to describe the reader, the only descriptor are heels, dress, and she/her pronouns used for the reader,

series link (coming soon!)

--

Max typically steered clear of you. Which was fine, you were a rookie driver, his second, only on Red Bull because an injury that took Checo out for the season and bumped you up from a reserve driver. You mostly stuck by yourself, doing your training alone, racing alone, eating alone... and such. The only time you and Max really spoke was during press, you didn't mind, but it was kinda clear to everyone that Max Verstappen did not like you. For whatever reason.

You assumed it was because he felt partly responsible for Checo's injury, due to also being involved with the accident. So he kept a wide berth because you reminded him of that mistake.

What you didn't know was he ignored you because he liked you way too much, and couldn't risk hurting both of your careers for something as trivial as his feelings. So, he kept his distance, watched from afar and kept tabs on you. Almost like a stalker, Charles had joked to him.

He didn't mind being considered a stalker if it meant keeping you safe.

There was one thing you had told Max, or more so he had been involved in the conversation when you had told Christian. The one deeper thing he knew about you was your ex boyfriend was nothing but a waste of fucking time. He had just been manipulative, urged you into doing a lot of things, and you had been telling Christian about it because someone had seen him at the paddocks. Max had cataloged his name--Isaiah Martelack, and then when he got home that night curiosity killed the cat.

Ten articles and a beer bottle later he told himself, and whatever ghosts might be floating around his apartment, that he'd kill the man. Standing outside this club now, months and months later, with Charles lazily waving goodbye to someone Max didn't recognize... Max realizes he might just have the opportunity.

You'd been very drunk, but promised Max you were going to go home with Daniel. Which was fine, because Daniel was a fucking saint and Max trusted even the absolutely sloshed group that was Lando, Oscar, Logan and Daniel with you. However, Daniel was rubbing a sick Logan's back and yelling for Lando to stop trying to tackle Oscar, who was trying to call their rideshare, and you were not there. Not with the group you had been with only three or so minutes prior.

"Where's hotshot?" Max turns to Charles, the nickname they'd come up with you for in public spaces flowing out without second thought. Charles perks up, turns in a full circle and then shrugs.

"Ask Danny?" Charles peeks around the building, seeing nothing down the front side of the building or in the front parking lot. But that was all he scanned.

"Danny's hands are full enough with the McLaren drivers at the moment." Max laughs under his breath, looking over his shoulder, down the sort of shadier side of the building. It was dark around that side, Charles telling everyone to try and steer clear of it because they might get mugged if they go in that side lot. Max hadn't thought much about it after that, but something in the back of his head was nagging him to look a bit further.

He's happy he remembered you'd worn those little black heels with the silver bow on the front, because he sees one laying there just inside the shadows of the buildings alley. The ankle clasp snapped off and laying nearby, like there had been some sort of struggle. He pauses, holding up a hand as Charles calls for Danny's attention. Charles keeps shouting as Max steps into the shadows to peek, and as his eyes adjust he feels ice in his veins as his arms thrumn with energy. Your ex--stupid fucking Isaiah, has you pinned against the back wall. Max knows you'd be able to fight back in any usual circumstances, but something in the way your eyes flutter open and closed and you try to weakly cry out for help against the mans large hand covering most of your face tells Max there's more wrong than just what he can see.

"Hey!" Is all he can think to shout. Isaiah turns, Max running up, before just clocking the fucking guy in the jaw as hard as he can. Charles shouts behind him, someone else screaming his name as he falls with Isaiah to the ground. He doesn't really count how many times he pummels the guys face into the concrete until it takes Charles, Daniel, Logan, and Lando to pull him back to his feet. Both of Charles' hands pressing Max's chest until Max seems to come back to his sanity after that blip out of his consciousness. The first thing he feels is intense pain in his knuckles, but the first thing he does is look for you.

Oscar's kneeling with you against the wall, a hand under your bloodied jaw as you try and explain, but even the most sober person in the room fails to understand you.

"What the fuck, man!" Isaiah shouts, stumbling back to his feet and wiping at his bloody and broken face. It was almost sort of... therapeutic to see it.

"You ever fucking touch her again and I'll take your hands clean off your body." Max steps forward, jabbing a finger right in Isaiah's chest, making both Charles and Daniel move to push him back.

"Max, Max." Charles pushes Max back against the wall, not like he was trying to be aggressive but more so that he was trying to diffuse the situation.

"Who the hell are you?" Isaiah wipes at his nose and Max takes a second to look around. About an arms length away, a clearly heavily intoxicated Isaiah sways, Lando and Daniel hovering near him, Logan hangs off to the side by the front of the building--waving someone over. Oscar is to Max's right, whispering softly and kneeling with you as he tries to calm you down. Charles holds Max by one hand to his chest, looking over the group.

Max takes a slow breath, shakes out his hands, wipes his own bleeding nose and then turns to where you're curled on the ground. He walks over, Oscar looking up and standing as Max approaches.

"She's... really out of it." Oscar hums, not expecting you to do much of anything, but you stand on shaking legs and lean into Max's arm that flies up to catch you. Oscar brings a hand up to your other arm, watching as you lift a shaking hand to wipe some blood off Max's face.

"You.." your voice is small, weak, and swaying, and Max adjusts so he can hold you against him to keep you upright.

"Relax, okay?" Max shuffles in your hold, before tossing his jacket over your shoulders, trying to hide the red marks he can see forming on your arms and neck, "Take this and... just stay by my side."

"Hey, cars are here to go back to the hotel." Logan calls, sporting a water bottle and four or five phones in his hand, "y'all ready to go, or?"

"What about this fucker?" Lando asks, eyeing Isaiah. Daniel's arms cross firm over his chest and he nods his head over to Max with a small smile.

"I think Mad Max there did enough damage for this guy to understand he should keep away."

"Oh, and--" Charles turns, leaning down to pick up your heel and handing it to Oscar, who helps you try and put it on while Max keeps your stable.

"He should know better than to mess with the friends of the... what do they call me? Prince of Monaco or whatever?" Theres a sly grin that ripples across Charles face and a look of horror dons Isaiah's as he realizes just who he'd been fucking with. When he goes to run, Lando chases him out with a loud drunk cackle as you're escorted to a waiting car.

You know, loosely, that you've ended up in the back of some car, situated between Max and Charles who speak in hushed tones. Your head is swimming, a headache thrumming under the swirling world and sick feeling in your body. The jacket someone had laid over your shoulders providing both heat to your trembling body but also, coverage and protection. The night was pieced together, a mess of shots, dancing, and laughter that had blurred together the longer you had been in that stuffy Monaco club.

That one shot had been the downfall, you'd known it had tasted off but assumed the best. And then Isaiah had shown up, and you should've known from that moment everything was over. You should've told Max to wait with you, instead of waiting for Daniel to get Logan out of the club. Oscar was way too preoccupied trying to keep Lando from being an idiot to notice you get grabbed, of no fault of his own, and Lando was too drunk to know what was happening in general.

And the next thing you can remember seeing, as you recount the nights events to try and keep yourself from losing your stomach in the back of this very nice car, is Max. The way he'd thrown Isaiah down and followed him, each collision of his fist to Isaiah's face, and the way the man beneath him struggled to fight back. The things he had said, the way he looked was nothing like the Max you had grown accustomed to. He wasn't cold and reserved, silent, just a phantom you had grown used to having behind you. No, Max was fiery, loud and violent. No longer was he a passive nod, he was a fist being jammed into teeth with intent to break something, intent to maim the man who'd even just tried to hurt you.

"You alright?" Max asks, and you realize you've been staring. Swallowing, you look down at your lap, holding your shattered phone and broken purse in your hands as you try to think of what to say.

"Y'didn't hav'ta do that." Your words come out more sloshed together than you had hoped, and Max sighs, his own nose scabbed over a while back, you can tell from the darkness of the blood around it.

"No one gets to treat you like that, yeah?" Max says, leaning down to pull the jacket further over you to make sure you're kept safe within it, "No one."

"Christian's g'nna be mad at'ya." You lean into his chest as he sits back, and though he's still for long enough for you to almost pull back, his arms wrapping around you a second later makes you stay.

"He can be mad all he wants, I don't regret pummeling that guys face in." Max shrugs and you hear Charles laugh softly, the car pulling to a stop. The world spins as Max and Charles get you out of the car, into the hotel, and then it's Max who brings you into his room. Charles goes off to get some rest, just leaving you and Max alone. Max says it's because your room is right next to his, so he can just take you next door when you get sleepy. So, you end up on the couch in Max's room with his duvet wrapped around you like a burrito while scouring the room service menu with a water bottle in hand.

"See anything good?" Max asks, emerging from the bathroom in an arguably comfier outfit, you hum setting it down and drinking about half the bottle in one go. The water was helping, or it was placebo as the actual things in your system were finishing up their course. But even though a simple thing of chicken tenders and fries sounds great, you still feel sick enough, you can't imagine stomaching anything.

So you complain, "They have boring food."

"It's a hotel. I wasn't expecting caviar or something." He sits next to you, taking the menu off the coffee table and reading over it, "we can just get junk. I think Christian will understand."

You're quiet for a few seconds, before you poke Max's leg with your foot, "You didn't have to do that, Max. The whole thing with Isaiah."

"If I didn't do that, how far would he have gone?" Max's response is blunt and there's no answer you want to tell him. His hands tighten around the menu before he tosses it down, his hands almost fidgety.

You need to fill the silence, so you say, "You could've just shouted."

"And let him keep his hands on you? God, forget it. Y/n, you should've told me about him, I would've kept a closer eye on you while we were leaving."

"Why would I have told you," You immediately counter, brushing some hair out of your face as you turn to Max and almost curl into the blankets for safety, "it's not like we even talk outside of press."

"I know but..." Max struggles to find the words, you can see it in the way his mouth opens, closes, and then finally he sighs and adjusts the way he's sitting, "you're still my teammate, and... I know you might not really believe me but I'm gonna be here for you. Whenever you're ready to rely on me, I'll be there."

You don't really know what to say, just watching him for a moment before you whisper, "what if I want to rely on you now?"

"Then, let me say this," Max leans forward, brushing a few hairs off your face and adjusting the blanket as he speaks in such a soft tone you're surprised it comes from him, "No one's gonna hurt you as long as I'm here. I promise you that."

There's almost a sort of... pain that fills you. The genuine feeling of his tone, and you shimmy out of the blankets partly as you murmur in your still tipsy haze, "Can I have a hug?"

"Oh, sweetheart... come here," his arms extend and in moments you feel him cradle you to his chest as you hide there, still sickly, still exhausted, still shaking. You close your eyes against his shirt and sigh heavily. Neither of you speak for a while, after Max orders a bunch of random items and two teas from the room service. You know you're crying, even as you try and hold yourself together. Even if you hadn't been in your right mind when everything had happened, it still shook you to your core. Without having to be told, Max rubs along your shoulders, eyes closed as he lets you bury your head against his chest and sob. He doesn't move until you calm down enough for him to feel comfortable gently setting you aside to get the room service left in the hall. When he comes back, he plops next to you on the couch and hands you a plate of shitty hotel food. And as Max plays some videos on his phone for the both of you to watch, you feel the drinks slowly wean off as you sip on the tea, head buried against Max's shoulder as you blink at whatever stupid tik tok has him making a weird face at his screen.

You're not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake up laying on Max's couch, head in his lap as two voices speak above you.

"She's alright, though?" Christian's voice speaks and you feel someones hand running through your hair by its roots, coming back to rest warmly against the back of your neck.

"A bit shaken, but it's y/n, she'll be fine." Max's voice is soft. Christian sighs and shakes his head with a soft chuckle, the sound of a cup being set down as someone gets up off the other side of the couch. Max, who you've been laying upon for a while now, shifting and chuckling softly.

"You've been wrapped tight around her finger, huh?" Christian's voice chimes a bit farther away now.

"Yeah. Just a bit." Max's hand moves, tucking hair behind your ear as he plays with the ends of each strand in a small little pattern, "She's not a bad one to get caught by though."

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 2

max verstappen x single mom!reader

{prev} {next}

warnings: cursing, reader y/nsplains, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, logan tries to flirt, y/n's bestie is a tumblr girlie at heart, kiddo steals the show Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 6833 auth.note: thank you all so much for the love for part 1!!! ily all and i'm having so much fun writing this

The paddock was relatively quiet so early in the morning. Unable to sleep, y/n had left the hotel and made her way to the track. She was taking the opportunity to explore the settings on the camera and getting her bearings since she didn't have any work duties to complete until later in the day. She had expected Kevin to want to come with her, but he'd opted to sleep in with Ellie, who would bring him to the track later. So she wandered, exchanging the occasional greeting with others. Stopping to take a photo of a bird perched on the fence in front of pit lane, she backed up, crashing into someone.

"Whoop, s'cuse me, sorry," she said, turning to apologize properly. She recognized the two men by their faces but her mind blanked on their names.

"It's alright, ma'am. Didn't mess up your shot, did we?" His American accent was a happy surprise.

"I don't think so." Smiling, y/n lowered the camera. "My fault, and I'll blame it on being new."

"Marketing?" The other man guessed.

Australian. And suddenly she remembered their names. "Social media. I'm y/n."

"So great to meet you." Logan tipped his head slightly. "Carolina?"

"God, you can take the hick outta Carolina, but you can't take the Carolina outta the hick." He grinned and she laughed. "North Carolina, yeah."

Oscar stared at Logan. "How did you guess that? She just sounds plain American?"

"No, dude, it's the lilt. It's like when George got pissed we couldn't pick up on the different English accents."

"Can he pick up on the different American south accents?" y/n asked.

Logan rolled his eyes. "He knows Brooklyn, Midwest, valley girl, and just south."

"In his defense it's hard to pick out each individual one," Oscar pointed out.

Y/n shrugged. "You've got a point. I sound different from people that grew up just an hour from me."

"Yeah! And I know mine's been butchered from so much time in Europe." Logan nodded.

"You still sound more like home than anyone else I've met."

"I was gonna say the same thing – you sound like home." He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that had her smiling in return.

"And what do I sound like?" Oscar asked with a grin.

"A magical place far, far away," y/n told him. She covertly checked the time and wondered if hospitality had finished setting up so she could get some coffee.

"Hear that? I sound like Star Wars."

"She's using southern charm on you, dude," Logan snorted.

"Well it's working, I'm charmed."

A giggle bubbled up her throat and she let it free, raising her camera and giving them a hopeful look. "Okay?"

"Hang on—" Logan fussed with his hair, and y/n laughed when Oscar reached to help him, then they both had to fuss with Oscar's hair. "Think we're presentable enough?"

She nodded, moving so the sunlight was beside them. She got several photos and thanked them. "I'll send them to y'alls social media teams?"

"You can just send it to me." Logan began patting his pockets for his phone.

"Unbelievable," Oscar muttered under his breath, and y/n barely heard it, giving Logan her number and adding him to her contacts once he'd sent her a text.

"I should get going – Sorry for bumping into you."

"Don't apologize, I'm glad you did."

As she walked away she gave her head a little shake, smiling to herself when she overheard Oscar's grumbling that Logan had flirted with fuckin' Red Bull's social media admin. Something told her to glance back and she did, amused to see Logan watching her. Don't show interest, don't show interest, don't—

He gave a little wave. And she smiled, waving back.

Fuck.

Ducking around the corner, she wandered until she found hospitality, grogginess taking over as she made her way to the back to fix herself coffee. She recognized a couple engineers and mechanics that she'd met in Milton Keyes and greeted them, settling into a corner to drink and look over the pictures she'd gotten.

She was on her second coffee, had uploaded the pictures to her laptop, and was editing the first batch for a short video when the chair across from her was pulled out, taking her shoe with it.

"Sorry," Max said when she yelped, chuckling as he bent to pick up her shoe. "Didn't know you were attached."

"Bad habit I'm afraid." Taking the shoe, she shifted to put it back on. "Picked it up when I was pregnant now I do it without thinking."

"For the swelling?" he asked, sitting down and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah." After tying the shoelace she shifted, tucking one foot beneath her. "Good morning, by the way."

"Morning. Already working?"

"I'm gonna do a short photo tour of the track. I got some nice shots."

"You walked the track?"

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, so… It's beautiful first thing in the morning."

Max nodded, picking up his coffee again. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Max, you should know that hotel beds suck. Especially with a three year old sleeping sideways and a snoring friend in the other bed. Is this where you tell me you slept great?"

"Haha, no. My sleep was shit but it wasn't because of the bed. I didn't get enough." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I was up late sim racing."

"Okay, explain sim racing to me," she requested, slipping one earbud in so she could check that the music she'd selected went well with the photos. Tweaking it as he began to talk, she realized she was barely paying attention to her work, exporting and posting the video to all the platforms then closing her laptop to focus on him. He talked with his hands. It was something she'd picked up on already, that if he was focused on the topic he used his hands. Maxplaining the fans called it. Finishing her coffee, she listened intently, propping her chin on one hand.

 He smiled, almost shyly, as he finished. "It's something I truly enjoy. I'm not very sociable. I like going out once in a while, but I prefer to stay in, yeah? And I can spend hours in the sim without thinking twice."

"I spent the last few days watching a lot of interviews. Not just of you and Checo, but everyone on the grid," y/n said softly. "Leclerc talks about piano and his family, Norris talks about gaming and DJing, and Hamilton has his six hundred side projects."

"Yes?" He didn't look or sound impatient for her to get to the point, and she appreciated that.

"The thing is, they all have passions outside of racing. This – formula one, fastest cars, all that – is a goal, a dream, but they all have something else they love, that they can pursue now." She paused, meeting his eyes. "The only thing I've seen you passionate about is racing."

He blinked once, nodding his head. "Because it is my passion."

Y/n regarded him carefully for a moment. "You're very lucky, Max."

That must have surprised him, because his brow furrowed. "Why do you say that?"

"Not everyone is able to be successful following their passion. Being able to do what you love for both a job and hobbies is almost unheard of, yet you're doing it. You break records and win races and yeah you've had a few setbacks but you're still in love with this. And on your off time you're training to be better and studying tracks and you go home and race on your computer." She shook her head in amazement. "You're incredibly lucky, that your passion is not only something you're good at but something you can be immersed in nonstop, and that you haven't lost your love for it."

"I guess I am lucky," he said carefully. "But luck had nothing to do with me getting into formula one."

"I know." She held up her hands, not wanting him to think she thought he was in the position he was purely by chance. "I can't imagine how much work you've done over the years, or how many sacrifices you've had to make. It's just… In my experience, passion doesn't always equal financial stability is what I'm trying to say."

"What's that saying? Do something you love and you never work a day in your life?"

Y/n snorted. "That's bullshit. I love sleeping and yet I still have to work."

That made him laugh and she rolled her eyes, even though she enjoyed the sound. "Surely you love more than sleep."

"I love a lot of things. Maybe that's been my problem all my life. I find things and fall in love with them and when I think hey this might be it something new and shiny comes along and I fall in love with that."

"There's nothing wrong with being passionate about many things," Max said gently.

"That's what I keep telling myself. And yet—"

"Are you saying you don't love your job?"

She froze, a wave of panic rippling through her. "Uhmm… Since it's technically my first day I can't answer that."

"Okay. Do you love your social media?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table.

The table which was, suddenly, smaller than she remembered.

"I like engaging others. I like creating conversations and seeing my work appreciated," she finally said.

"You sound like a PR person. Do you love it?" He enunciated each word slowly.

She couldn't say yes. The answer wasn't no, either, because she didn't hate it. "I personally hate it. But you've learned how to make it work for you, yeah? How to word things to spark a conversation among followers? What type of content people appreciate?"

"I like to think so."

"Stop being so unsure of yourself. You study it, right? At your last job when you posted a video and no one liked it what did you do? "

She exhaled harshly. "I compare it to ones that did well and pick it apart to see why it didn't work."

"Why?"

"Why?" she echoed.

"Why did you pick it apart?"

"Because I wanted it to do well," she said slowly.

"And these conversations you want to create, do you join in or sit and watch them happen behind the safety of your screen?" He reached over, gently turning her laptop so he could see the screen.

"I engage. I reply and ask questions to make the viewers want to keep the conversation going."

"Why?"

"Because—" She clicked the mouse, bringing up the comments below the video she'd posted to Instagram. "These comments? Come from people that love this brand – or sport. Some of them are trolls who just want to start up an argument to make their boring lives more interesting for a few minutes, but for the most part it's people who care. People who want to see this team do well. People who had the dream of doing it themselves but life got in the way. People who watched it with their parents and still watch to stay connected to someone they love. It's little kids who want to be like you. It's people who spend their hard earned money on a t-shirt or a hat or a ticket to see someone they admire live out their dream." She took a quick breath, scrolling through the comments. "If I don't like or respond to them, they feel like their opinions don't matter. And maybe they don't in the grand scheme of formula one. But they want to be seen and heard. When I click and they see that Red Bull Racing liked their comment or replied with an emoji or whatever, they have a few seconds of elation, and their support of this team is cemented just a bit more."

Max blinked at her, and she continued even though she heard him draw a breath to speak.

"I know very well how horrible social media can be. However, I've seen how it fosters growth for a company. You're not stupid, I'm sure you've seen how TikTok challenges or Instagram livestreams have brought in more support. Not to mention money. If a post of you wearing your Red Bull shirt gets a million likes, I can probably pull the data and show you that a hundred thousand people went to view the shirt on the official shop and probably twenty-five thousand ordered one. A silly picture of you arriving for race day or a new helmet design pulls people in and gets them excited. And, yes, it makes money. Which in turn pays the salaries of everyone on the team."

"Y/n."

She sucked in a breath. "I'm—"

"Passionate," he whispered before she could say sorry.

"I know what it's like to enjoy something and never feel included," she murmured. "So, yeah… I guess I love what I do, because I like that I can include people in something they love."

His hand covered hers briefly. "For a moment there, I even loved social media."

She watched his fingers squeeze hers before they slid away, wondering why his touch lingered. "Yeah?"

"It's easy to forget that there are real people saying nice things. Sometimes all you can see is the negativity."

"Negativity only breeds more negativity—"

"And when you look at it, it's all you'll see," he murmured.

"Well… So far everything I've posted today has been met with positivity."

"That's good."

"Okay, a few comments about wanting to see Lando on the podium. Thank you for letting me rant about why I do what I do," she said, glancing at his hand without meaning to.

"You let me do the same," he reminded her. Lifting his chin, he waited until she looked at him again. "Are you too busy to see what I was talking about?"

"I don't have anything scheduled until after lunch."

"Perfect." He lightly drummed on the table and stood. "Do you want to see my rig?"

"You do know I won't have a clue what anything but the computer and monitor are, right?" Smiling, she stood and began packing away her stuff.

Closing her laptop, he handed it over, catching her earbud when it fell off the edge of the table. "Maybe you'll like it so much you'll want one of your own."

*-*

He was rambling, he knew he was, telling her about the setup and his plan for the 24 hour race over the weekend and how he had everything scheduled so he could do two of the things he loved most. But he could tell she was paying attention, actually listening, as if she really cared. Rubbing his palms against his thighs, he finished and looked up at her.

"So this is your actual job and the f1 thing is just a hobby?" she teased.

Laughing, he got to his feet and got himself a can of Red Bull. "It's just racing, y/n."

"And racing is life."

"Absolutely." He watched her muffle a yawn behind her hand.

"Am I allowed to mention it in my posts? Because it sounds so badass. Sim race stint then qualifying, chug a Red Bull, sim race stint then race."

"You can mention it, not like it's a secret." He watched her hide another yawn and cleared his throat. "Looks like you need a Red Bull."

She shook her head. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Nodding, he checked the time. Just over an hour before he had to meet with his trainer. "Of course."

"I hate Red Bull," she whispered.

He choked on a laugh. "You what?"

"I've tried so many times! I can just about stomach one of the flavored editions, but the original? Tastes like battery acid to me." She looked embarrassed and covered her face with her hands. "Please don't tell anyone."

"You hate the drink. So you accepted a job with a team owned by the drink company." He wanted to laugh. It was so absurd to him.

"Yes," she groaned.

"That would be like me taking a job at Instagram."

"I know it's so bad. What makes it worse is I love Monster—"

"Of course you do," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Please say you won't tell anyone. If corporate hears, I'll probably get fired. It's in my contract that I can only drink that while in pubic during race weekends which means I've got to either stick to water or learn to fake it."

"Your secret's safe with me," Max promised, breathing in the aroma of her perfume as she moved past him to get her bag.

"Thank you. I think Ellie would kill me if I told her I have to find a new job."

He didn't want her to go so soon. Ridiculous because he knew he'd see her in just a few hours. By the end of the weekend he'd be sick of seeing her. Sipping his drink, he finally sighed and cleared his throat. "You can take a power nap."

She whipped her head around, sending a wave of her perfume his way. "What?"

"A power nap." Before he could stop himself he was setting down his drink and taking her bag off her shoulder. "Thirty minutes, and you'll feel great."

"Max—"

"You need to be alert and focused, and I don't have a Monster for you to drink. Please, I insist." He motioned to his bed in the far corner, gently nudging her shoulder when she hesitated.

"You're sure?" she asked softly, and when he assured her he was she bent to take off her shoes, looking almost elated as she walked over to the bed. "Wait, I need to set an alarm."

"I'll wake you."

She lifted an eyebrow and he pulled out his phone to set a thirty minute timer. Satisfied, she sat on the edge of the bed, thanking him several times as she laid down and curled up on her side. "Thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes," he murmured, sitting on the couch to answer emails. It was fifteen minutes before she stopped shifting and kicking, and when he heard her breathing even out he knew she was asleep. Resetting the timer, he stood and carefully pulled the blanket over her, then returned to the couch and tried his best to ignore that she was sleeping in his room.

Her phone started buzzing on the table. She didn't stir so he ignored it, focusing on his email. That was impossible though so he cleared out his unread texts, one foot bouncing each time he heard her breathe. A mistake. It had been a mistake. He jumped up when her phone began to buzz again and, glancing from it to her, he realized she would undoubtedly sleep through it. He picked it up and was about to silence it when he saw the name on the screen. Ellie. That was her friend that was helping with Kevin… Something could be wrong, so he answered the call and lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, we just— Who's this?"

"Max. This is Ellie?"

"…Yes…" The woman sounded wary. "Why are you – Oh! Max! Right of course. Um, is y/n okay?"

Max looked over at her, smiling faintly when she shifted. "She's fine. Taking a nap, actually."

Ellie snorted. "Of course she is."

"Is everything okay with Kevin?"

As though aware of the question, Kevin began chattering in the background. "Yeah, he's perfect. I was calling to let her know we just got here but I ain't got a clue where to go."

"Are you at the main entrance?" he asked, slipping out of the room so he wouldn't wake y/n. Ellie told him where they were and he nodded as he pulled out his own phone to text one of the team assistants. "You're going to walk down to the turnstiles, scan your passes and come through. Someone will be there to meet you and bring you to the motorhome."

"Ok perfect. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. We'll be downstairs to meet you." Ending the call, he checked that the assistant was going to meet them then reentered his room. He closed the door and silenced his timer. "Y/n?"

She hummed in her sleep, and he smiled while he crossed over to the bed.

"Y/n," he called gently. She groaned, shifting to face away from him and it suddenly occurred to him that when he went to bed that night he would smell her on the pillow and the sheets. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea, but it was too late now.

Would he be an asshole if he had his sheets changed before the end of the day?

Leaning down, he gently touched her shoulder. She inhaled sharply and he saw her eyes snap open. "You have company on its way," he said softly, tugging the covers back in case she tried to get comfortable again. His eyes swept down, locking on the skin bared by her shirt, which had ridden up in her sleep. "Come on, you had a nice nap, time to wake up."

"This bed is so much more comfortable than the one at the hotel," she mumbled, slowly sitting up and turning to face him. Smoothing down her shirt, she stretched and sighed, blinking as she focused on him. "Oh! Ellie and Kevin!"

He laughed as she leapt to her feet, his hands immediately moving to steady her. "It's fine, they haven't even made it to the paddock yet. I've sent someone to meet them."

"Oh," she murmured. "Thank you."

His hands were on her hips, and he forced his breathing to remain calm as she rested her hands on his forearms. The space, which had felt roomy and open, now felt tiny with how close she was to him. He was painfully aware of the scant space between them and each place their bodies touched, but more so of her. That heady floral scent of her perfume and the softness of her palms against his skin. The gentle lushness of her hips. He could hear every breath as his gaze traveled up from her hands to her face, lingering on her slightly parted lips before settling on her eyes. "You good?"

"Yep."

"Right. Sorry," he mumbled, releasing her hips and taking a step back. "I'll get your shoes."

What was wrong with him? It hadn't been so long that he got turned on like a teenager just from touching a woman… As he bent to retrieve her shoes he counted back, dragging a hand over his face in humiliation. What must she think of him? He'd brought her to his room, showed off his fancy toys, then let her sleep in his bed. She probably thought he wanted to fuck her—

You do.

—which couldn't be further from the truth. He was just being nice. Because she was nice. That was all.

Wasn't it?

And why, he wondered as he handed her shoes to her and told her about answering Ellie's call, did he care what she thought? Not caring was his specialty.  

"How do you feel?" he asked, finishing his drink in one gulp.

"Refreshed. Thank you so much, Max." She tied her shoes and ran her fingers through her hair. Her lips moved but he didn't hear a word she said, watching her gather her hair and twist and twirl it, securing it with a band from her wrist.

Witchcraft.

"That okay with you?" she asked, slipping her phone into her pocket.

"Of course," he answered automatically.

She clapped her hands together. "Great! I'll put up a post asking for fan questions."

Max blinked, pinching his brows together. "Fan questions."

"Well we can't do an impromptu Q and A without questions." She had her other phone out now, fingers flying across the screen. "We'll do it this afternoon? Just let me know the best time."

Fuck's sake. What had he agreed to? More importantly, how had she gotten him to say yes? Everyone knew he had a low tolerance for marketing. He could take it back and say no, he couldn't do it today. He could tell her to get Checo to do it, that he would do it another time. He'd gotten out of marketing and social media stupidity without a problem plenty of times before. But he was already opening his calendar, going over his schedule, already telling her the open slot he had at 5, and was already putting Q and A with Y/n in that space.

"Perfect," she enthused, shouldering her bag and heading for the door, her fingers still tapping swiftly on the screen. "They should be here about now, right?"

Nodding, he followed her out the room and down, smiling when Kevin came through the front door with a woman he assumed was Ellie. The boy dropped her hand and sprinted over to y/n, who dropped down to hug him tightly. Max looked on, chest squeezing, searching for something that had been lacking, as mother and son talked and hugged, their words overlapping. They both understood each other perfectly, though, and he smiled at Kevin's excited retelling of what he'd had for breakfast. Introducing himself to Ellie, he reached to shake her hand.

"Mister Max!" The boy squealed.

"Kevin!" He was down in a split second, Ellie forgotten and chest constricting tighter as Kevin hugged him like a long lost friend.

"I saw two cats and a horse!" Kevin tugged at his shirt, grinning as he showed off his Red Bull merch.

"You did? What kind of cats?" he asked, taking the boy's cap and beginning to roll the brim for him while the boy described the cats and then the horse. Returning the cap, he enthused over animals, telling him about his own two cats and pulling out his phone to show him a few pictures.

"I miss Cotton," Kevin said with a small pout.

"Is that your cat?" Max saw his trainer approaching and gave him a quick nod.

"Yeah. We can't bring him to Eng-a-lund so Aunt Ellie's sister has him." Kevin's pout melted into a faint smile. "But she sends lots of pictures!"

"That's good. And maybe you'll be able to get him soon."

"Mama says it's s'pensive." The boy sighed as though he had to earn the money to bring his beloved cat to England.

"I know," Max sympathized. "Go with your mum, yeah? I've got to go train."

Kevin's face puckered in confusion. "Train? Like Shang?"

Y/n cleared her throat. "We watched Mulan on the flight last night."

"What did Shang do?" Max vaguely remembered the movie, but it had been years since he'd seen it.

"He made a man out of 'em."

"Okay, doodle bug, we have to let Max get his workout in," y/n said, flashing Max a smile. "If you ask another question he'll start singing the song."

Max stared at her then turned his attention back to Kevin. "What song?"

Because he had to. Because hearing her groan as her son began singing a song about being a man was priceless. And the dramatic way she hung her head when Ellie joined in made him laugh. Kevin giggled, cutting off his singing and looking at Max hopefully. "Will you watch it with me?"

"I—"

"Mister Max is too busy to watch a movie," y/n cut in.

"We'll watch it this weekend," Max promised, hating the sadness in the boy's eyes. Relieved when it disappeared in a flash, he gave him a high five and stood.

"Yay!"

He exchanged a look with y/n, who sighed and nodded, reaching for Kevin's hand. "I'll see you later," he said.

"5 o'clock," she reminded him as he headed out.

*-*

"So…"

Y/n groaned at Ellie's knowing tone. Watching as Kevin was snatched up by Lando so he wasn't crashed into by Charles in the impromptu game of football, she folded her arms over her chest. "So?"

"He had coffee with you."

God, here we go.

"Showed you his private room and his expensive computer setup… Let you take a nap in his bed—"

"He's just being nice," y/n insisted.

"And he's gonna take time out of his ridiculously busy weekend to watch a movie with Kevin." Ellie hummed, taking a sip of her tea.

Ignoring her, y/n looked on as Lando, Oscar, and Logan pretended to fight back the others while Kevin kicked the ball towards the goal. They were all shouting, dramatic and over the top, and above it all she heard the sweetest sound of her son's laughter. When the ball rolled into the net there was a roar that rivaled a championship game, and she joined in the cheering and applauding.

"You could do worse," Ellie murmured.

"Would you stop?" Y/n rolled her eyes, giving Logan a thumbs up when he gestured to the football and Kevin, understanding they wanted to have another quick game.

"He's cute."

"They all are," y/n muttered without thinking, lifting her camera for a few photos for her personal collection. Recognizing Checo when he suddenly appeared in the viewfinder, she snapped more photos, lowering the camera to watch.

"You know—"

"I can't wait for you to start your job so I can come and try to partner you up with a coworker," she huffed, snorting when Ellie gasped.

"You wouldn't."

"In a heartbeat."

"Besides, there's only one person in that group that's technically your coworker," Ellie said.

"I'm not here for that."

"I know." Ellie leaned against her briefly. "Wouldn't be me if I didn't encourage a delusion, though."

"Yeah…" Y/n laughed softly. "It's my first day, of course everyone's already in love with me."

"Exactly."

It was what she loved about Ellie. No matter what, she could make her laugh. Grinning, she watched Kevin bump into Oscar, who immediately collapsed with an exaggerated howl of pain, holding the leg that Kevin hadn't touched. "And they're all so good with kids."

"Total dad material, every one of them," Ellie agreed. "Not a stepdad, a dad who stepped up."

She choked on a laugh, playfully swatting her friend's arm. Because she knew Logan had overheard them. "Stop—"

"And probably more than willing to crack your back—"

"Oh my god." Clapping a hand over her face, she sensed someone approaching. "I have to work with these people."

"Only until they fuck a baby into you."

"Hey, y/n, your kid's so cool," Logan said.

Her face burned but she slowly pulled her hand away, giving him a weak smile. "Thanks."

He propped his hands on his waist, breathing heavy as he watched Kevin dart between Lando, Oscar, Checo, and Alex. "He always this energetic?"

"Fify-fifty. He's either like this or so quiet I worry he's up to something."

Logan chuckled. "Is he a troublemaker?"

"Nah, if he's quiet it's because he's focused on his cars or studying a bug."

"Christ! Get it away from me!"

Y/n's heart lurched at the sudden shriek from Lando, and she barely saw him sprinting away from her son, who was holding something in his hands.

"It's a frog, mate!" Oscar shouted behind him.

"Don't care!"

Kevin slowly walked over to y/n. "Mama, look!" he said, eyes shining with excitement. His cheeks were a little flushed from the hard play and he was giggling. "Mister Lando scared of a l'il frog."

"He's just not a country boy like you, honey," she soothed. "But maybe we should put the frog somewhere he'll be safe?"

"C'mon, Kev, I'll help you," Logan offered.

"Hmm," Ellie hummed once Logan had scooped Kevin up, cupping one hand over the boy's to keep the frog from jumping away.

"Shut it."

"I didn't say a word."

"Please, that hmm contained at least two paragraphs, ten innuendoes, and a pointed reference," y/n said, trailing behind Logan. Looking on as he set Kevin down near the tree line, she got a few pictures of them releasing the frog. She cringed when her son wiped his dirty hands on his shorts but Logan didn't seem to mind, lifting him up and carrying him back to her.

"He's free!" Kevin squealed. "Thanks, Mister Logan."

"Anytime, Kev." He tousled his curly hair after setting him down, flashing a shy smile at y/n.

She returned the smile, eyes following Kevin as he ran back to the game. "He's gonna pass out as soon as we get back to the hotel."

"He could probably run circles around all of us all night," Logan chuckled.

"True…"

"So like…" He cleared his throat. "Are you married?"

God, she loved Floridians. "No," she answered, turning to look at him. "Are you?"

"God no." He made a face at the thought. "So you're single?"

She nodded, already formulating how she would turn him down if he asked her out. She was too busy. Not interested in anything romantic at the moment. It never hurt to be honest, right? She couldn't lie and say she just had a messy breakup or—

"Would you be interested in – I'm not trying to hook up or anything," he said quickly when she opened her mouth. "Just, like, as a friend? I know how it is to feel like a fish out of water here. I'm kind of used to it but I can remember feeling like I was alone and surrounded by people who didn't understand my Americanisms."

"Oh." Aw. Damn it, she couldn't say no to that. "I… Yeah, sure, I'd like that."

He smiled. "Awesome. Maybe we can do something tomorrow after practice?" he suggested.

"Sure, sounds great. Text me?" she requested. Her phone alarm started going off and she pulled it out to silence it. "I gotta go. I'll see you later."

She waved to Ellie and mimed that she had to get some work done, waiting for her friend to wave back before making her way to the garage. While walking she got a message from one of the mechanics that the cars were photo ready and quickened her pace, envisioning the photos she would get of the mechanics and engineers. As she worked she asked questions, truly interested in what everyone did, a small idea forming that she'd run by Mr. Horner later. She knew that she would enjoy mini profiles on the team, with just the most basic of information like their names and where they were from. Maybe how long they'd been on the team, what had brought them to formula one…

"Thanks so much guys," she said as she finished up, declining the offer of a cold Red Bull. Her alarm went off again – twenty minutes to get ready to meet Max in the lounge back at the motorhome – and she switched off the camera, waving bye and turning to leave the garage.

She slammed into a human wall, grunting in surprise as she stumbled back. Twice in one day, really? The bump had caused the camera to slam against her ribs and she rubbed the spot gently. "I'm sorry! Wasn't looking where I was going."

She expected a chuckle, a reassurance that it was a hazard of the job. Maybe even an apology in return. Instead, the older man sneered at her, looking her up and down in such a way she felt like a child caught misbehaving. "You need to learn your place."

She gulped, fear prickling through her embarrassment. And even though she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, she found her mouth opening to apologize. "S-sorry."

"Horner know better than to hire amateurs," he muttered, scoffing. "He obviously didn't hire you for your looks."

She bristled at that. "I beg your pardon?"

"As you should." He brushed past her.

She felt weak. Clammy and cold. Shuddering slightly, she swallowed hard and left the garage, heading straight for the motorhome, where she was able to catch her breath. Who the hell had that been? He'd been wearing a Red Bull pass, so he had to be on the team. He was obviously important. She couldn't imagine him being considered her boss, not when everyone else had been so nice and—

"Ah, y/n, are you ready to do the Q and A?" Max asked.

Y/n felt her lungs burn and sucked in a breath, staring at the cup of coffee she'd made herself. "Y-yeah, I'll meet you up on the deck?"

Please go up, please go up, please go—

"What's wrong?"

Goddammit.

"Y/n?" He looked and sounded concerned, and she ducked her head as he walked over. "Hey…"

"I'm fine," she lied.

"You're a terrible liar," he said, leaning against the counter. "What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm just overreacting." Rubbing her hand over her face, she shook her head and reached for the coffee. "Just a run-in with an asshole."

"But I haven't seen you in three hours." Max's lips barely twitched at the corner.

"Not you, a different asshole." She felt her cheeks burn and groaned. "I'm not saying you're an asshole!"

"You don't have to, I already know I can be an asshole at times." Folding his arms over his chest, he met her eyes. "Who was it?"

"That's the thing, I don't even know. I was coming out of the garage – You know, I went down to get pics of the mechanics? Anyway, I was about to text you about the Q and A and wasn't looking where I was going and bumped into him."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Older, kinda tall? Sour faced." She raised a hand to the man's approximate height. "I apologized and he told me I need to learn my place, then said I was an amateur and Horner obviously didn't hire me for my looks – I didn't ask his name because I was in shock. All I know is he had a Red Bull pass."

Max's brow furrowed, and she felt him tense. Then, to her surprise, he described the man perfectly.

"Yeah, that's him." She bit her lip. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately," he muttered. "It's my dad."

"Oh." Y/n looked down at her coffee. "Sorry."

"Me too." He sighed, pushing away from the counter. "Don't listen to him, yeah? You have more right to be here than he does, and you're not an amateur. As much as I hate social media, even I can tell that you're excellent at your job."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I just… I've spent my entire adult life working to improve myself and discover my own worth as a human being, and I can give other women empowering pep talks, but I still freeze when a man that thinks he's better than me talks down to me."

"Fuck him," Max said simply. "He's not your boss, he can't control anything you do in your life."

"Either you're really trying to make me feel better or you really don't like your dad," she murmured. When he didn't reply, she slowly lifted her gaze. Seeing the muscle in his jaw twitch, she felt a pang of sympathy. If the man had been that rude to her, a stranger, she couldn't begin to imagine what he'd been like to his own son.

"If he speaks to you like that again, you let me know."

"I don't want to cause a fuss—"

"Not wanting to cause a fuss is why he thinks he can get away with it," Max pointed out. "I'll speak to Christian—"

"Max, no, it's literally my first week!"

"Which is why you have to set boundaries now. He'll either treat you with the respect you deserve or he'll be banned from the paddock."

Y/n blinked in shock. "You'd have him banned?"

"In a heartbeat." The look on his face told her he was serious, from the determined set of his jaw to the way he kept his eyes level with hers. "So either you mention it to Christian in the team meeting or I will."

"God," she groaned, knowing that this had to be just one tiny item among a long list of infractions for Max to want him banned. "Okay. I'll tell him before the team meeting tomorrow."

"Good. Come, let's do the Q and A. You ready?" he asked, taking her empty cup and throwing it away.

"Yeah." Grateful for the distraction, she walked to the stairs with him. "I did a clip of you looking confused and posted it on TikTok and Instagram that went viral because I captioned it When You Ask Max Verstappen About Anything But Racing. Oh and I found out Tumblr fans love making gifs of you laughing. Twitter likes making memes out of your face. Whereas Facebook is mostly a bunch of boomers commenting about how I'm ruining the integrity of the sport."

"I really do hate social media," he snorted.

"And that is why I'm doing social media," she teased. Halfway up the stairs, she slowed, turning to look at him. "Thank you, Max."

"For hating social media? You're welcome."

taglist

@spookystitchery | @halleest | @lyannesworld | @llando4norris

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (8/?)

Part summary: Leigh heads off to Palm Springs with Danny, while you grapple with what to do about your feelings for her.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader, temporary Leigh x Danny | Word count for this part: 5.000+ | Warnings : Slight angst | Author's Note: No, I did not forget about Danny still not being honest with Leigh and R not tattling on Danny. Just let these loose ends dangle for a while. Anyway, enjoy! :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Next part

-

The morning after you gave Leigh a puppy for her birthday, your phone is flooded with texts from her, filled with questions ranging from vaccine schedules to the best chew toys. She shares a story about how Rogue, their previous dog, had always been Matt’s, and how she often felt left out of his care. Now, with Logan, she feels a full sense of ownership and is eager to get everything right.

You still flinch slightly whenever she mentions her late husband. It’s as if she forgets that you and Matt had something significant too, as if you weren't once the secret he kept close. Sometimes, you wish you could just erase his presence, simplify everything about your relationship with Leigh. 

But you recognize that it’s selfish to wish him away, because Matt was a significant part of Leigh’s life, a major influence on who she has become. And who she is today is a lovely person—someone you've come to admire very deeply.

[6:20 AM] Leigh: Logan’s an angel, slept through the night.

[6:35 AM] Leigh: So, house training... how do I make sure Logan doesn’t turn my bed into his personal bathroom like he did five seconds ago?

You grimace at the message, picturing the hassle of laundering the sheets and possibly needing to call a cleaning service for the mattress.

[6:54 AM] Leigh: And shots? Rogue was all up to date because Matt was on it, but I’m clueless. Where do I start?

As you work your espresso machine, a grin spreads across your face, the kind that makes you feel like a complete fool but in the best possible way.

[6:56 AM] You: Good morning! You’re lucky I don’t bill for text consultations 😆

You typically charge $18 for a twenty-minute chat with a client.

[6:58 AM] Leigh: Oh. How much do I owe you? I want to pay.

Your smile falters a little at her missing your joke.

[6:58 AM] You: I was just kidding. Your texts are more than welcome, Leigh.

Feeling bold, you follow that up with something you've been wanting to make clear since last night.

[6:59 AM] You: This is what friends are for, right?

Waiting for Leigh’s reply feels like an eternity, and you're about to send another text to walk back your hint at friendship when your phone vibrates.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: I’d feel better paying. Can I drop by the clinic later?

Reading her message, you're hit with a rush—excited at the thought of seeing her, yet downhearted she's talking about paying, as if that's what's between you. But then, those little typing dots appear. You're practically holding your breath.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: We’re friends, which is why I’m paying.

It's a good thing you don't have a roommate, or else you'd never get away with grinning like an idiot at your phone. It's a bit ridiculous, you think, how high school this all feels—waiting for a glimpse, a moment, anything.

[7:01 AM] You: Absolutely, come by anytime. Looking forward to it 🙂

You hit send and lean back, trying to act like you didn't just have a mini celebration over a text. 

And then, spurred by Leigh texting you first thing in the morning, you decide to add her on your social media accounts. You spend an extra fifteen minutes getting ready that morning, simply because you lingered longer in the shower, listening to songs that remind you of Leigh and how this crush is dangerously close to becoming something uncontainable.

-

[10:13 AM] Notification: Leigh accepted your friend request.

-

As it turns out, Leigh is a serial texter. 

It’s odd, really. For someone who might come across as reclusive and somewhat untouchable, she is surprisingly talkative over text. The messages start coming in more frequently after this morning's exchange, just moments after you've finally left home to drive to your clinic. What's even more interesting is that this time, they're not about Logan.

And they’re all unusually random and unrelated to one another: memes that make you laugh out loud, articles on topics ranging from the philosophical implications of artificial intelligence to the best way to juicing recipes. You find yourself waiting for these messages, eager to see what tangent Leigh's mind has wandered off to now. You get into it, dissecting the articles she sends over with the seriousness of a scholar. You type back your thoughts, trying to sound as insightful as possible, maybe even a bit witty, hoping to impress her. You imagine this might be her way of initiating deeper, intellectual conversations between you two.

So, when you send back a paragraph or two analyzing the latest article she's shared, maybe touching on its impacts on modern society or offering a counterpoint to the author's thesis, Leigh's responses aren’t what you expect. Instead of engaging with the discussion, she sends a  simple thumbs-up emoji or, even more baffling, a random factoid about her day, like her opinion on the Kani salad from a sushi bar near the Beautiful Beast gym.

[12:15 PM] Leigh: [sent a photo] Just some store-bought crab sticks and diluted mayo. Don’t try it. Their saké though is 👌👌👌

You wonder why she’s having Japanese rice wine this early in the day.

[12:22 PM] You: Thanks for the heads up. I know a place for authentic Japanese food. You want to check it out with me some time?

Your text remains unseen for the rest of the afternoon.

-

You find yourself staring intently at the wall clock in your clinic, keenly aware of each minute slipping by, and with it, the dwindling chance of Leigh arriving before the doors lock for the day. As it nears 8 in the evening, Suzie is already wrapped up in her end-of-day tasks across the lobby. Leaning your cheek on your palm, you watch blankly as she meticulously arranges her desk, perfectly aligning each item, then moves on to gently pull the blinds closed on each window.

Suzie’s not blind. She throws you these knowing glances every time you let out one of your heavy sighs. Finally, after you've probably sighed loud enough to be heard next door, she stops what she's doing and plants herself in front of you.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

You try to look puzzled. “Nothing. Why?”

Suzie rolls her eyes. “Please, you’ve been mooning over that clock and sighing like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders. What’s up?”

You crack a smile, partly at her description, partly from being caught moping like a lovesick teenager. “It’s just… I thought maybe Leigh would come by. She said she would,” you say, wincing at yourself when the last part comes out a bit whiny. 

Without missing a beat, Suzie pivots from her closing duties and makes her way over to you. 

She’s not delicate with you this time. “You’re doing that thing again. Waiting around for something that’s probably not gonna happen. It’s not doing you any good.”

You know she's hitting the nail on the head, but it's tough to swallow.

Suzie continues, “You're young, you're attractive, and it's honestly weird that you're pining over your ex's ex. At first, I thought it was kind of adorable, in a bizarre, romantic-comedy kind of way. But now, it's like you're always hung up and disappointed.”

“Thanks for saying I’m young when I’m five years older than you,” you say with a sheepish smile, hiding your disappointment that she isn’t saying the things you want to hear, such as the possibility that Leigh just got busy.

Suzie shakes her head in disapproval. She's fed up, and her next words aren't going to be sugar-coated. “Snap out of it!” she barks, the command hitting you like a cold splash of water, and you jerk back in your chair, wide-eyed. Seeing you shrink back, quivering, she softens a bit and shifts back to the harmless receptionist you’re used to.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Suzie says, ensuring she has your full attention. You manage to meet her gaze, even though your eyelids feel heavy. “It's not fair to Leigh, either. You're giving meaning to everything she does—or doesn't do. It's putting her in an impossible situation. And honestly, it's not fair to you. You're missing out on your own life, waiting for someone who... well, who might never show up the way you want her to.”

Suzie knows she’s being tough, but sometimes love means being the friend who won’t let you settle for anything less than you deserve.

“I hear you, okay? It’s just… it’s the way I’m wired. I latch onto a person like a leech, refusing to let go until I see it through,” you mutter, shielding your face with your hands, a bit ashamed to even say it out loud. You get so tunnel-visioned, missing out on maybe better things and experiences because you're stuck on one track. You fall hard for your choices, never by chance.

“Good. You know what’s wrong with you,” Suzie says softly. 

You let out a weak chuckle, the sound tinged with a bit of self-mockery. You're half-hidden behind your hands, peeking out at Suzie as if she's got all the answers. Suzie pries your fingers away from your face and then pinches your cheek so hard, you start to whine a bit.

“Ow! What was that for?” you protest, rubbing your assaulted cheek.

“That's for being a pathetic little bitch.”

“Excuse me, I'm still the one signing your paychecks,” you shoot back, trying to sound offended but it’s hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure thing, boss,” she laughs, and you join in. 

“Okay, so what do you suggest I do then?” you ask as the last of your chuckles die down.

“Go on a date,” comes her swift response. “All that stuff they say about love finding you when you're not looking? Biggest lie ever.”

You look at her curiously, assessing her physical features. “W-With you?”

“Dude, no! Not with me!” Suzie exclaims, laughing nervously. “I mean, sure, I'd take you out if you weren't my boss, but I don't see that happening anytime soon unless you fire me.”

“Got it, got it,” you say, still chuckling. Suzie realizes too late that you were just teasing her and huffs. “Not with you. But seriously, go on a date? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Just meet someone.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“Because it is,” she says with a shrug. “Here. Give me your phone.”

-

Leigh doesn’t know what to do with the fact that you may or may not have feelings for her. 

So, she does what she does best: Pretend.

Leigh pretends you’re not EspressoEyes. In her mind, it could just be a coincidence, and you might not be the person who wrote to her advice column. Without any concrete evidence, she holds onto this notion, using it as a shield to fend off the uncertainties and doubts that would follow if she believed otherwise.

Leigh pretends because she needs your help to figure out how to care for Logan. Because maybe she wants to be friends. When you join her for a run, you don’t press for conversation, a rare companion who's not afraid of silence. Having you around feels like having Matt around, in a way that she's reminded of him when you talk about the same things you like, the same books you've read, and the same music you listen to. 

Leigh pretends it doesn’t bother her in case you are EspressoEyes. She’s no stranger to turning heads as she walks down the street, accustomed to the attention. There's a certain power in being desired, and Leigh revels in it. But the idea of you liking her doesn't quite make sense to her; it's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. It’s not because you’re a woman—she’s been with women before. What Leigh can't wrap her head around is that you, of all people, could actually be into her. After all, she hasn’t exactly been her most charming self since you two met. Even her best friend is keeping a cautious distance. She’s been wearing down the people closest to her, those who are supposed to like her the most.

And this bewilderment doesn't sit well with Leigh. She is someone who thrives on understanding, on knowing where she stands with people and why. So, when pretending isn’t enough, she does what she does second-best: Avoid.

She must have been waiting in her car outside your clinic for the better part of the evening, debating with herself about what to do next. She's parked just out of view, positioned so she can see the clinic entrance without being too conspicuous. She hasn't eaten dinner yet, her stomach growling, but she remains glued to her spot across from where she knows you're waiting for her.

Ever since you subtly asked her out through text, she’s been on edge, second-guessing her actions (texting and sharing posts on the internet with you all morning, what was she thinking?) and wondering what they might have meant to you. Leigh didn’t mean to leave you hanging—she did come to your clinic, sort of. She remembers typing out a response to you, something witty and non-committal, but her finger hovered over the ‘send’ button before pulling back. It felt like too much, too soon. She needed time to think, to figure out why the idea of checking out authentic Japanese food with you left her feeling so conflicted inside.

Leigh's guilt gnaws at her as she sits there, wrestling with how to extricate herself without causing further confusion—or worse, hurt. Eventually, it all comes to a head. She finally gives in, typing out a message to you on her phone with a shaky urgency.

[7:53 PM] Leigh: I'm so sorry, something came up. I can't make it to the clinic after all.

Your reply comes quickly, much to her astonishment, especially since she hadn't opened your message all afternoon.

[7:54 PM] You: It's fine, don't worry about it. I can have Logan's supplies delivered to your place if that works better for you.

Reading your text, Leigh bites her lip, another surge of guilt washing over her. Your kindness, your willingness to accommodate her, only complicates this predicament further.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: Yes, that would be great, thank you.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: How much do I owe you?

As she starts nibbling at her cuticle, Leigh is eager to resolve at least the financial aspect of her obligation. Though she knows she owes you so much more than just Logan’s supplies.

[7:56 PM] You: Like I said, it's on the house. But just this time ☺️

It’s still too generous. But Leigh knows better than to argue further, concerned that insisting might hurt your feelings.

[7:56 PM] Leigh: Thank you. I won’t forget this.

[7:57 PM] You: 😊😊😊

Leigh sighs, remembering her promise that you could visit Logan anytime. She hopes you won’t take her up on that offer too soon, at least not until she has a chance to sort herself out.

-

Danny isn’t too bad once you get to know him. That's what Leigh learns after more than two months of dating him. 

Initially, Leigh wasn't sure what to make of Danny. Their shared wit and sarcasm often put them at odds, like two alphas vying for the upper hand, each one not willing to back down, always aiming for the last word. Yet, in their calmer moments, when the competitive edge fades and they're just enjoying each other's company, Leigh finds something unexpectedly comforting about being with him. He has this confidence about himself that Matt never had, knowing exactly what he wants—and that's her. His straightforward approach makes everything about being with him feel predictable. And lately, she's starting to see predictability as a good thing, a sign of stability. This is a welcome change from the uncertainty that often left her anxious about the future. Plus, all these traits spill over into the bedroom, making the sex between them feel effortless and satisfying in a way she’s never experienced before.

Despite all this, there are days when Leigh finds herself merely tolerating Danny's affections. A part of her remains tightly locked, still bruised from losing Matt, and she's not sure if those doors should—or even can—open again. To compensate, she often says yes when she can, whenever her mood permits her to be giving and amenable.

And it is exactly why she says yes when Danny asks her to go to Palm Springs with him this weekend. 

-

The getaway feels like an extended lazy morning where the concept of time blurs into insignificance. They drift from one hotel restaurant to another, luxuriating in the art of doing absolutely nothing. This routine isn't new to them; it’s the same one they slip into whether they’re at Danny’s apartment or Leigh’s place—only now, the scenery is different, and the sheets they tangle in are expensively soft, boasting a thread count far beyond anything either of them owns at home. 

They're lounging by the pool, sipping Margaritas—Leigh with a book in hand and Danny absorbed in his phone—when your name comes up in conversation.

“So, how are things between you and Y/N?” Danny asks, not looking up from his phone.

Leigh stiffens slightly. She carefully moderates her tone, her face schooled into an expression of indifference as she marks her page and looks over at him. “What about me and Y/N?”

“I don't know... are you guys friends now?”

If Leigh weren’t so preoccupied with her own personal concerns about you, she might have recognized the underlying worry his question poses. What he's actually trying to figure out is whether you've come clean to Leigh about his role in Matt’s secret affair with you.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” she says. To say otherwise would be a lie, because you’ve been nothing but good to her. Danny seems satisfied with this answer, nodding before returning his attention to his phone.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” he mumbles. He's back to mindless scrolling, but Leigh can sense the tension from two feet away. 

“No, tell me,” Leigh insists, placing her book on the side table between them with a definitive thud. Danny mirrors her actions, setting his phone face down and turning to her with a seriousness that clashes with their otherwise relaxed afternoon.

“I just don't get why you'd be friends with Matt's mistress,” he blurts out suddenly. 

Leigh is taken aback. They've never fully discussed what transpired between you and Matt, so she hadn't realized he was paying such close attention to her interactions with you. Believing that he wasn't privy to all the details, she quickly jumps to your defense.

“Y/N didn’t even know Matt was married to me,” she explains, trying to clarify the misunderstanding and protect your integrity.

“Yeah? And you just took her word for it?” Danny doesn’t bother to hide his skepticism, and it irks Leigh more than usual. She doesn't understand why every conversation with Danny has to turn into a challenge or an argument.

“There’s no evidence to suggest otherwise,” Leigh replies, her voice tightening as she struggles to keep her frustration in check. “I mean, I even went through your phone to see what Matt had been saying to you, and there was nothing there indicating that Y/N knew he was married.”

Danny feels a lump form in his throat. Fortunately for him, Matt hadn't mentioned anything in their texts about Danny being Nick either. He has been debating whether to disclose his role in everything to Leigh. But things between them have gotten serious, and Danny's not so sure he should come clean. Part of him wants to delay—perhaps until they are married with kids, when he's more certain that Leigh won't leave him over a past mistake.

“Look, I'm not saying don’t trust her, but... she used to be in love with Matt, right? You don't think there's a chance she resents you even a little?” 

Leigh stops for a second, Danny's words prompting her to consider aspects she hadn't really thought about before. Wrapped up in her own insecurities, jealousy, and pain when she discovered the truth about you, she had never stopped to consider your perspective—how you might have felt learning that the man you had feelings for was married. Did you feel just as fooled and stung as she did? The thought bounces around her head for a moment. From what she can recall, nothing in your behavior has ever suggested that you're a bitter ex. But then, what if you're just exceptionally good at masking your feelings?

Do you really like her, or is it all an act—a scheme?

But then, she remembers the night you gave her Logan, how your smile was nothing but warm, your eyes bright with something that, looking back, Leigh realizes might have been admiration. Not even Danny looks at her like that, whose gaze is always bridling yearning and a desire to possess. Leigh shakes her head, almost laughing at the thought of Danny being right about you.

“Danny, honestly,” Leigh finally says, trying to put an end to the discussion, “if what you're saying is true, I can handle it myself.” It seems the quickest way to close this topic, knowing that debating it could easily consume their entire afternoon and completely derail the purpose of their vacation.

“But doesn't it hurt, having her around? Like a reminder that Matt went for someone else?” He's playing on a different fear now, not questioning your integrity, but poking at the scars Leigh's tried so hard to heal. 

Leigh wants to admit the pain never went away. She’s merely learned to co-exist with it. It's like the weather for her: on some days, her mind is a landscape of clear skies, but when the storm hits, it's relentless. For now, she chooses to keep this pain private, unwilling to give anyone the leverage to use it against her or even attempt to fix her. It's her burden to bear, and hers alone.

“No,” Leigh answers, reaching for her book again. “I don’t see it that way anymore.”

- 

Leigh ends her nearly year-long social media hiatus by posting a series of photos from her Palm Springs vacation with Danny. Sharing such personal moments publicly is uncharacteristic for her, especially given her minimal online presence over the past months. Maybe it felt like sending a message to everyone that she’s doing okay. That they can go back to seeing her as just Leigh again—a single, actively dating woman in her early thirties—not as the young widow she was in her late twenties.

Danny's friends are the first to swarm the comments. They tag Danny, peppering the feed with teasing remarks, their comments ranging from jokes about the desert heat to compliments on the couple's sun-drenched physique. It's all typical, light-hearted friend banter, until one comment sharply disrupts the mood: 

“Yo, isn't that your brother's wife?”

Leigh deletes the comment within seconds of seeing it.

A few hours later, you ‘like’ her post. Leigh's eyes fix unblinkingly on the notification. She's been idly wondering if you'd seen the post, and now, you’ve confirmed it yourself. But what does that ‘like’ mean?

Is it a nod of approval, a silent indication that you're happy for her? Regardless of what it means, Leigh discovers she was sending another message—one that’s exclusively for you. It tells you that whether you're EspressoEyes, whether you harbor any feelings for her or not, it no longer matters.

She's with Danny now.

-

Returning from Palm Springs, Leigh feels different—like she’s turned a corner or something. She feels refreshed, and she wants to take on something, such as Drew’s grievances about her advice column. She picks one to start with, something about anniversary ideas, and she's got the perfect story for this.

It was one of those anniversaries with Matt, the kind that stands out from the rest of his surprises because it's so quintessentially him—albeit a little nerdy. He took her away from the city's glare to a secluded spot where the sky was a blanket of stars, untainted by artificial light. After laying out a rug for them to both settle on, he began the painstaking process of setting up a rather complex telescope. It took him nearly an hour, but the wait just made the moment even more special. With the telescope finally ready, Matt pulled out this old, crinkly constellation map and started hunting for one specific star. It was one of the last times Leigh remembered them being truly happy—deeply in love, free from the shadows of Matt’s depression, Leigh’s instinct to fix things, and the small lies that slowly eroded their relationship.

When he finally located it, he excitedly guided her to peer through the telescope. There it is—a tiny speck of light, but it's theirs. Matt turned to her with a bashful smile and revealed that he had 'bought' that star for her.

Leigh shares this story with her reader, emphasizing that it's about understanding what truly moves your partner. For her, it was that star—simple, unexpected, and insanely romantic. She tells her reader to find that one-of-a-kind thing, that personal touch that says “I love you” in a way that can only come from them. Just like Matt did with a star and a starry night.

It's only after she closes her laptop that Leigh realizes tears have been streaming down her face.

-

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It takes a moment to recognize who you've just bumped into. This encounter isn't as jarring as the last; it’s merely a brush of shoulders as you both maneuver to avoid incoming traffic. That ‘incoming traffic’ turns out to be none other than Leigh Shaw.

She's beaming up at you, and it looks genuine despite the sparse interactions since she last canceled on you. You’re still catching your breath, your heart racing from the speed of your run and something else entirely.

“At least I didn’t make you crash on the pavement this time. I'd say that’s significant progress,” you quip, drawing a soft laugh from Leigh. Last week, you made the firm decision to compartmentalize your feelings for Leigh, resolving to see her strictly as a friend. Yet, when faced with reality, such resolutions seem trivial, particularly when that reality includes Leigh smiling at you with her effortlessly charming grin—a smile that, despite your best efforts, still sends a familiar flutter through your stomach and makes your knees feel like they're made of something much less solid than bone.

“Speaking of progress, Logan’s due for his vaccines this week, right?” You remember the schedule clearly, not just because you’re good with dates, but because Logan has become somewhat of a shared responsibility between the two of you—or at least that’s how you still see it.

“Oh, right. I promise I'll swing by. No bailing this time,” she says, chuckling, but there’s a serious undertone that tells you she’s committed to making good on her word this time.

“You better not,” you tease, “Can’t have Logan missing his shots. He’s still very young, and it’s critical we build up his protection against—”

“I won’t, Doctor,” Leigh cuts in, giving you a playful salute that makes you blush. “So, where are you off to after this? I was actually about to grab some donuts for breakfast—”

Leigh pauses mid-sentence as a woman appears at your side. She’s stunning—slightly taller than Leigh, clad in a sports bra and tight yoga pants, with sneakers on her feet. An absolute goddess; even Leigh can’t resist a quick, appreciative glance.

“Who's this?” the woman asks with a British accent, adding the perfect touch to her 5-foot-7 frame.

“This is Leigh,” you introduce quickly, noting the surprise in Leigh's expression. “Leigh, this is Sara.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Sara says warmly, extending her hand. Leigh shakes it, though her movements are somewhat mechanical. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh?” Leigh’s smile is strained. “Nice to meet you, too.”

You quickly steer the topic back to Leigh's breakfast plan, asking where the donut place is. “It's just down that street,” Leigh points vaguely, but then stops short. Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “Actually, I just remembered I've got to pick up something from the laundromat.”

You frown, thrown by her sudden change of tune. “Are you sure? We could grab a bite after the run.”

“No, really, I should get going. Maybe next time!” Leigh replies hastily, already stepping back, her exit swift and decisive. As she hurries away, you're left there, watching her leave, trying to figure out what flipped her mood from happy to wanting to escape so quickly.

“Shall we?” Sara nudges you gently, already jogging in place. 

You give Sara a nod, but as you start running, you can't help but sneak one last look back. Leigh is quick to put distance between herself and the park. With a sigh, you turn your full attention back to Sara, who’s already picking up the pace, chatting about a new trail she wants to try next weekend.

“Let's go,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, as you push your legs to match her pace.

Meanwhile, Leigh walks briskly to a different restaurant, forsaking her initial craving for donuts. She can’t quite explain why she fabricated an errand; all she knows is that she needed to get away from you and Sara. Earlier, she couldn't help but notice how close Sara was standing to you, assessing you with a look that seemed a bit too interested. Leigh keeps turning over Sara's words in her mind, puzzling over what she meant by saying she'd heard a lot about her from you.

Why were you talking about her with Sara? Who exactly is Sara to you? Just a friend, or something more?

And what Leigh finds even more perplexing is why she's so troubled by needing to know the answers.

[strazki]

School Bus Graveyard headcanons no one asked for but will still get 😤

Ashlyn has autism. Honestly pretty much canon at this point, considering what we've seen of her, but still

The whole group took a hot second to adjust, but they are now so accommodating to it

Obviously there's the noise issues, but they also recognize when she needs to be alone, and they don't bother her too much about her being so asocial

I’m projecting but I just love these guys

ANYWAY, on a completely different subject, I think Taylor is actually a really good singer! She's just very shy about it

I also think Aiden can definitely play drumset

Top that off with Tyler canonically playing guitar, all you need to do is give Ben a bass or something and then they're basically just a little band!

I think they would be called the Phantoms or some shit like that

Ashlyn can do backup vocals, and I love my boy Logan but he's giving stage manager vibes a little bit lol

Someone's gotta do it

Taylor and Tyler share their clothes all the time. We already see that they have the same room, which most likely means the same closet, and since the two of them have a relatively similar build (and thus, similar clothing sizes), they just don't really bother separating their clothes (probably why they're matching so often)

Aiden does so much stupid rich kid shit. Not obnoxiously, but just out of a lack of understanding

Probably says some shit to the others like "Wait, your parents didn't get you a car? I know we can't drive yet, but you can still like... take pictures with it."

Bro has no idea he's that rich

The twins absolutely love going over to Ashlyn's place to get self-defense training from Mike and Emma. With their father being gone for a while, and their mom being not all there (for lack of a better description), it's been a long time since they've had a stable parental figure in their lives

Ashlyn's parents are just so nice to them and treat them like their own kids. I just think it's something they needed in their life that they found in an unexpected place :(

Ben loves to paint! He took up art and drawing ever since he lost his voice, and finds painting specifically very calming

He's been working on portraits for each of his friends that are all lying half-finished around his room

Even when he finishes them, though, he probably wouldn't show them for a while because he's quite nervous about it

If he DOES show them, he would definitely give Taylor her's first, because that's who he feels closest to

She cries

I feel like Logan, with working at the flower shop and all that, probably spends a bit of time putting together little bouquets for his friends

Not as like a grand show of affection, but just little gifts to show his appreciation for them being around and caring about him

Probably personalizes them a LOT too. Not only does he coordinate them to match the favorite colors/flowers of the person he's making them for, but he knows all the symbolic meanings behind each flower

Like, for example, I bet he gets yellow roses for Ben to signify friendship, and pink roses for Ashlyn to signify gratitude, that sort of stuff

His love language is gift giving and he's never had friends as close as these guys, leave him alone >:[

Okay that's all I got right now send tweet

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

How did Vanessa find out it was Logans baby? Panicked call? "Sister" intuition?

You're keeping your distance from Logan and Logan is keeping his distance from you but- Vanessa can see Logan tracking you as you flit around little knots of people. And he didn't look angry but... there was an intensity to it. One she recognized. He wanted you. Bad. And when you met his eyes briefly, your own expression changing into something like hunger it hit her like a train.

Oh. She thought. That little shit. Good for her.

It had been... A while since you'd dated. Or even really tried to date. One bad boyfriend and you just threw in the towel- not that she blamed you. It had had some spectacular fallout. But... Fucking your brother's angry new roommate without him knowing?

Listen. Logan had a rough exterior but he was probably a teddy bear in bed and took good care of you. And she was willing to bet he could read you like a book- you needed that. As long as you didn't come up with bruises you didn't want she wasn't about to snitch. It was a good chance for Wade to be reminded that you weren't 12.

When you slipped out to take Trigger for a piss, she followed you. "So," she said grinning, "Fucking Logan. Ballsy."

"We're not!"

"Puh-lease," she laughed, "if he doesn't come over tonight and bend you over the table-"

"He broke my table last time," you mumble. You're busted. "He's fucking heavy."

"Oh. My. God. You slut," she teased. "I'm telling-"

"Nessa!"

"Oh no, I'm not telling Wade," she laughed, "Just everyone else. We HAVE to start a pool for how long it takes him to figure it out."

"Hell. I'm in hell." You groan. "I'm in hell and never having sex again."

_____________

"Nessa," Wade whined, "pick up the phone! SHIT!" He tossed his phone down on the sofa and groaned, "Straight to voice mail."

Logan grunted and studied his drink. He hadn't seen you since you left for the airport. Or tried to talk to you. But he knew you were back. And safe. But that didn't make the anxiety in his chest simmer down. He'd learned you were good at hiding how you really felt. The whole time

"She was supposed to go find out her due date so I can plan," Wade groused, kicking at a box of baby things. "I gotta know so-"

"Plan what?" Logan growled.

"A baby shower? Being in the room? Duh!" Wade flopped down on the couch and groaned. "I wonder where she's going to register-"

He took a sip of his drink and huffed a sharp laugh, "Did you even ask her if she wants the kid?" Logan heard your heartbeat. And he saw how fucking terrified you looked. You didn't sleep. You hardly ate. Too numb to cry or be angry. You were just... lost.

But now you were going to be pressed on all sides by people just expecting this kid to appear. Because it was going to be cute and fun and because someone else was going to have to do the hard part. And hell if it didn't sting like a brand knowing you didn't want him near you- he thought he could take it. Be man enough. But. Looking into your face in that cold fucking exam room; knowing that if he just STAYED. If he just admitted-

"Are you even fucking listening?" Wade asked

"Yada yada bullshit, yada yada, good mom," he said killing his drink and getting up, picking up his jacket.

"Pick up more diapers," Wade called at his retreating back.

"Fuck off," Logan growled, slamming the door behind him. He needed to talk to you. Now. If you didn't want him to raise this kid fine, but he wasn't going to do nothing. He wasn't stupid. He knew when your scent changed. He knew when you fucked. You weren't fucking anyone else and if that was your next play, he wasn't buying it. It was time to make that clear.

[unlikelyjapan]

Full disclosure: I wasn't a Syd/Carmy shipper until two weeks ago. Hell, I don't think I've ever been a shipper of anything up until this moment - but I've been happily married to my slow-burn best friend for eons, so this all struck a deep, nostalgic chord for me. Consider this post my coming-out party:

This whole thing came about from that well-worn Freud quote that "friendship is the art of distance while love is the art of intimacy" that I recalled from a crude psychology class.

From the most shallow, birds-eye POV, Carmy achieved intimacy with Claire (while maintaining distance/friendship with Syd) by disclosing details of his family situation, his panic attacks, expressing romantic affection, and establishing physical intimacy with someone.

He even seemed more eager to relay and express these experiences to his friends (see the cannoli conversation with Syd and Marcus) as he went deeper into the relationship. From this perspective, I empathize with people when they say they see his relationship with Claire as real personal growth, followed by a steep regression.

Claire seems to pantomime someone who is secure, but is actually pretty anxious in matters of the heart - the idealized projections she places on Carmy based on her proximity to him a decade ago, her unwillingness to walk away from the red flag of the 'wrong number' fiasco, and her unrelenting insistence to know why he tried to dodge her in the first place. I'll say nothing of the constant placating.

Claire is a sort of a faux 'sword of destiny' for Carmy - he yearned for her attention in his youth, it was loudly proclaimed to be "the good thing" by his abusive family, and so it's the only logical choice in Carmy's mind once he's beaten over the head with it for the umpteenth time - it's the love chosen for him by his family and his past self before he pieced together ways to partially escape, it's fatalism, it's the end of the weary search for "fun" and happiness.

He's never truly happy or having "fun" (as he doesn't know how to define that in his mind - that's why we're tortured with 5 grueling minutes of Logan), but he feels cared for and is going through the motions of being "that guy who is fun and in love".

Love even had to be defined for him by his inherited family friend/handyman who he didn't even know was his "best friend" until Claire relayed it to him - he blindingly accepted both assertions from Fak, falling back into his family's narrative that he can't survive or be normal without their collective help.

By contrast, Sydney is probably the first thing Carmy has ever chosen for himself without outside influence from family or employers. She was his first hired employee, his first true friend who wasn't a blood relative, and probably the first person he feels mirrors his passions without a need to compete with her over them.

Sydney is a choice - she is happiness (in whatever shape or form that you choose to define it, it can be aromantic if you'd like) that Carmy found all by himself, without the narrative being driven by outside influences. They have fun together on their own frequency, but Carmy's black-and-white thinking can't recognize it for what it is - he's still reaching for a sense of "fun" that was repeatedly sold to him as his family tried to push him along the path of normalcy (an impossible feat for a Berzatto).

Syd and Carmy share a brand of maternal grief/strife and a profound love of service that breeds a slow intimacy. By saying "you deserve my full focus" Carmen is saying that Sydney's happiness is more important than his own, which can sound abysmal in type, but is also a natural pre-req for love when given willingly - which I think he is giving willingly for her, just not willingly for the anxiety and minutiae that comes with actually running a fine dining restaurant. He needs someone he can have absolute trust in to hold his hand through that part.

That's why he could only create The Bear with her, and why he says he wouldn't want to do it without her.

They're both fearful and avoidant, which is a fatally-wounding powder keg if they were to connect this instant, but with ever-growing intimacy and self-work (which Claire - however insufferable her dialogue - probably planted seedlings in with Carmy, and his openness and absolute trust in Sydney could drive her towards, too) their coming together could heal many of their longstanding wounds.

This was more of a meandering walk than I hoped, but I think it all comes down to actively choosing happiness vs. passively chosen happiness - Sydney is the first thing Carmy has ever chosen for himself, and we were beaten over the head with depictions of how much he cherishes that agency and Syd this season. I really hope S3 is a big mess of mirroring and sharing for them.

[fandom-smutty-shots]

Logan Howlett X Reader: Thirty Seconds (Smut)

Summary: Reader is watching the cage fights when someone new enters - and buys her a drink at the bar.

Warnings: smutty smut, oral(f receiving), use of pet names, overstimulation, penetration(d in v), no male orgasm.

Word Count: 2.1k

~

The crowd cheered in anticipation as the two men entered the ring. You recognized one of them, Rampage, the undefeated king of cage fights. You'd been all around the city watching the fights, the pure masculinity giving you something to go home to and dream about every night. You were addicted to the thought of one of these men taking you home and ravishing you, but you'd never been brave enough to approach anyone.

You stopped watching for a moment as the men circled each other, both shirtless and rippling with muscle. You thought Rampage was the biggest man you'd ever seen, but he almost looked small compared to the size of the man he was up against. You'd never seen him before, but even from a distance, you could feel his harsh gaze as he stared down his opponent. You loved seeing a newcomer get his ass beat.

You approached the bar and ordered a drink, the bartender skillfully mixing it before he handed it to you. You handed him a bill and took your usual place near the back, just close enough to see the fights, but not so close that you were getting bumped around by the pumped-up watchers.

You sip from your glass, the liquid burning down your throat as your eyes never left the cage. The fight had begun. Rampage took the first swing, which the other man ducked and returned.

Just like that, the fight was over. Rampage was knocked out on the ground and the newcomer stood straight, his muscles flexing. He never smiled, just walked out of the cage as if it had been a boring match. You were stunned, you'd never seen anybody get knocked out with a single punch. Who was this man?

The crowd didn't even know how to react. It was unheard of for Rampage to lose, let alone to a single punch. There were boos and demands for a rematch, a lot of people were losing money tonight. At least you never bet anything. You finished your drink and went back to the bar, this time having to wait a few minutes as people lined up ahead of you.

You picked a spot near the edge, hoping to stay away from the angry mob of people who would be drinking themselves into oblivion tonight. You tapped your fingers on the bar and waited patiently, hearing nothing but complaints around you. Just as the bartender approached you, a large figure appeared on your left and ordered. You released a sigh of annoyance, you had been waiting and this guy had just shown up and cut ahead of you.

He probably didn't notice you, most men didn't. You didn't wear anything low cut or snug like most women around here, you weren't here to pick up guys. As much as you got off on the thought of the cage fighters, you knew they never went home with fans.

"You'll never get anything in life if you just sigh at people," a deep voice said, clearly amused at your annoyance.

You turned around to snap at the asshole who cut ahead of you, but stopped dead when you recognized the man who had just won the fight. You turned back to the bar and ignored him.

You felt hot breath in your ear, and a looming presence far too close for your comfort. "What, you don't speak? Or are you just afraid of me?"

"I don't talk to strangers," you retorted, not turning around and desperate for the bartender to notice you so you could find anywhere else to be.

"They call me Wolverine," the man said, and you felt him move to your side so you could see him from the corner of your eye. "Now we're not strangers."

"That's not a real name, that's a stage name. Doesn't count." You bite back your frustration as the bartender handed the man, Wolverine, his drink and left to serve somebody else. "Are you kidding me?" You mutter, frustrated.

"I suppose that's true." He grabbed his drink in one hand and flagged down the bartender with the other. "She's been waiting."

"What can I get for you?"

You ordered and pulled out another bill, but Wolverine stopped you before you put it down. "On me sweetheart. The women I buy drinks for call me Logan."

You rolled my eyes and finally turned to look at him. Whatever clever response you had disappeared as you saw his face for the first time. He was handsome all right, in a rugged, beg-him-to-fuck-you kind of way.

"Cat got your tongue?" Logan teased, picking up your drink and handing it to you. You took it and finally looked at the rest of him, realizing he was pure muscle, almost inhumanly so.

"Do you do this a lot? Bother women until they agree to go home with you for a disappointing thirty seconds?" You snap, taking the glass and taking a step away.

Logan blocked your path, a glint in his eyes. He leaned in and held your waist with one hand, his breath hot in your ear. "There's only one of us that will be lasting thirty seconds, sweetheart, and it ain't me."

This was what you wanted, wasn't it? Deep down, you came to these fights hoping some gruff, sexy man would whisper in your ear. Hell, you masturbated to the thought of this every other night. You felt your stomach roll and your core heat up at his words, at the feeling of having such a man tower over you and make you feel small and helpless.

"Turn you on did I?" Logan continued, his voice low as his hand grazed up and down on your back. "It's okay, you don't have to say it. I can smell it off you."

You shivered and felt your face heat up in embarrassment. Were you that obvious? You tried to stutter something, but he only laughed at how flustered you were becoming.

"C'mon, let's go somewhere a little more... private." Logan held his hand on your back and walked you through the crowd, your drinks forgotten at the bar. Were you really doing this? Going home with a man you met five minutes ago? You mostly wanted to cut and run, get as far away as you could. But some part of you felt like you needed this. You deserved a night with a real man.

He took you to a beaten up truck and opened the door for you, helping you climb in the passenger seat. He got in his side and started the ignition, his hand going to your thighs as he did so. You don't even remember the drive there, just the feeling of his big hands circling up and down, teasing you and making your clit throb with anticipation. You were literally whimpering from him touching your thigh. To be fair, you hadn't been with someone in... well, a while. And this felt like a fever dream.

The journey inside the house was a blur of kisses and Logan's hungry hands all over your body, touching exactly the right spots at exactly the right time. Before you knew it, he had picked you up and tossed you onto the bed like you were nothing.

He grabbed your shirt with both hands and literally ripped it right down the middle before forcing it off you. What kind of strength did this guy have? You hadn't been wearing a bra and he took advantage, kissing you from your neck all the way down to your breasts, cupping them in his hands before taking a nipple in his mouth. He was gentle at first, coaxing it out in slow circles, but when you moaned he nearly bit you, and began to suck on it before moving to the other and giving that one attention. Your legs opened wider to let him get closer, and he kissed everywhere on your body, up and down your stomach until finally he reached the spot you wanted him most.

He helped you wiggle out of your pants and underwear all at once, kissing your thighs and letting his hot breath tease at your cunt.

"You want me to show you how to cum in thirty seconds?" Logan asked, licking everything but the sensitive bud that was swollen for him.

You wanted to say he couldn't, but with how desperate for him you were you just nodded.

"Use your words, little princess," he challenged, licking right up your slit and tasting you without going where you needed him.

"Fuck," you swore. "I need you to lick my clit please," you begged, your voice coming out as a whine.

That was all he needed to latch on. He did a quick swirl around before lightly sucking it into his mouth, managing to suck on it and swirl his tongue around at the same time. You gripped the sheets in desperation, and fuck if you lasted even thirty seconds before you felt your release all over his face.

He wasn't done though. He released you and gently lapped at your clit, lazy strokes making your entire body jolt at each touch. You nearly screamed as he started swirling around again, the stimulation too much. You needed a second to recover, but he wasn't giving it to you. He relentlessly licked your throbbing bud, your screams both of pain and pleasure. He used his arms to lift you off the bed and closer to his face, forcing you to be in the position he wanted.

"No, fuck, Logan, I'm gonna-" your eyes rolled back as a wave of pleasure washed over you, your moans turning to screams as he licked you through yet another orgasm. When he was satisfied you were dripping with cum, he finally kissed his way back up your body.

"Tell me what you want now, little princess. Do you want me to lick you all night until you pass out or do you want me to fuck the brains out of that pretty little skull of yours?" Logan asked, his tone clearly amused as you came down from your second orgasm.

"Fuck me," you answer, looking him in the eyes and pleading silently for him to fill you up.

"I can fuck you with my fingers if you're scared you can't handle my cock," he teased, unbuckling his belt to reveal his full length to you.

You had never taken anything that big before.

You grabbed at his length in response, desperate to forget everything about yourself and just get railed. He already proved he knows what he's doing, and you needed to belong to him completely.

Logan chuckled and flipped you over, dragging your feet to the bottom of the bed and standing up by the side. He used one hand to hold onto your hip, steadying you, as he used the other to line up his cock with your pussy. He pushed in, demanding entrance, and you gasped in pain as he invaded you.

"Fuck, you're tight," he muttered, slowly entering and putting his entire length inside you. He didn't even give you a second to adjust before he moved his free hand to the back of your neck, forcing your head down as he railed into you.

The pain quickly turned to intense pleasure, and you had never felt anything like this. His strength was impossible as he held you in place, and you felt a little like a rag doll as he pounded into you. His balls bounced against your clit and you felt yourself build up again, after only a few minutes of fucking. You were glad he couldn't see your face as you orgasmed again, your muffled cries of pleasure filling the room as he fucked you through your orgasm, not relenting even for a second.

It was all too much. You were in too much euphoria, your body begging you to give it a break. You tried to hold on for as long as you could, and you felt like another ten minutes had gone by when you finally tapped out.

"I, um, I can't," you gasped, and finally Logan's relentless pace eased up to a slow, more gentle one.

"You want me to stop, princess?" He asked, laughing as he said it.

You nodded in embarrassment and felt him gently pull out, letting your body fall to the bed as he did so. "I'm sorry," you mumbled, crawling your way to the sheets, needing to let yourself rest.

"It's okay sweetheart," Logan said, tucking you in before going to his side and lying down as well. He lazily wrapped a giant arm around you and rubbed circles in your hair with the other, the slow and gentle motions making you drift off into a deep slumber. "You can try again in the morning."

[morimemichael]

HIS TEST - Mark Hoffman x F!Reader

Everyone has been tested. Except him. Everyone have gone through their personal hell. But he? He remained untested….or that’s what he thought.

“I do appreciate my life…” Hoffman says, an almost undetectable string of what you could conclude as arrogance tint his voice. He doesn’t know John it’s going to test him very soon….

Warnings: None.

Unknown.

Your existence was unknown to the other apprentices. The fact that you met every single one of them, under “casual” circumstances, causal enough for John to elaborate, were never enough for the rest of them to even suspect you could be an apprentice too. John’s gift to you was none other than the perfect veil of uncertainty.

You knew everyone else’s life and how they were doing along side John. But he got plans for you…you’re supposed to keep a close eye to one particular apprentice. Mark Hoffman. He was…something else, you could tell. As said before, you knew every single one of them, but you found Mark rather interesting. His main motivation to help John caught your eye since day one. You came along after Logan, but before Mark, so when John first talked about him with you, the ceed of curiosity was planted. You still wanted to remain anonnymus to every single apprentice John had, so you would keep an eye on them with discretion, maybe even look out for them when John didn't even asked you to. The first time you saw him, he was patrolling thye streets and you stand by his police car and asked for a smoke. More precisely, asked for fire to start a smoke. His blue deep ocean eyes were unmistakable.

//

"Excuse me Officer, but by any chance do you happen to have fire? I would like to light up a smoke." You asked. Your voice soft like the wind blowing that night. You look at him holding a smoke between you lips.

He looks back at you for a moment, his eye lingered on your figure for a second, then nod yes nonchallantly.

"What's a girl your age doing outside so late at night?..."

"Couldn't sleep, Officer." He then approaches the lighter near your cigarette and lights it.

"You're so young to have habits like this one..." He speaks gesturing with his head at your cigarette.

That's ironic.

For someone who's helping a killer accomplish their desires. You didn't pay much attention to his comment.

"Oh, but bad habits don't die, specially if they’re old ones, right Officer?" He didn't notice, but there also was irony in your question, cause him from all people shouldn't be having this doble moral.

"Guess you're right." He forced a smile.

You don't remember too much from that night, but he apologize, told you he was still on duty and took off.

//

The sound of voices echoing from afar brought you back to reality. You were standing on the shadow of a corner inside the meat plant. John had asked you to come over, cause he needed your help. But he never told you the others would be here too. You recognize one voice at least. Feminine, but not fragile, that’s how one of the voices sounded like. How could you not recognize it? It was Amanda Young. She came after Mark, her test was crude but necessary. The other voice was a male voice, which soon after you’d recognize as Dr.Gordon’s voice.

Now, he was the latest apprentice, he was part of a game that took place in that mundane industrial bathroom. You helped John to physically prepare the space, and you hated every single second of it. This two were talking among themselves, unaware you were around, but apparently Mark wasn’t here today, although something told you he was in fact present, somewhere. A thin tall figure approached you. John. You crossed your arm and gave him a glare.

“You didn’t mention the others were here too.” You tilted your head.

“Would you have drive all the way here if I’d told you the rest were inside?” He smiled slightly.

“No…I wouldn’t…” You rolled your eyes as you return the smile back. You stepped closer to him, reaching out for his shoulders. “How you’ve been lately?”

”Surviving, as always…I don’t have news unfortunately….” He said. You had your doubt about his word. Cause you knew he went to Mexico for a couple of days, not so long ago, and he hasn’t spoke a word about it. So you looked at him and asked.

“Did something happened in Mexico?” I tilted my head, and he sigh.

”Just…minor inconveniences. Detective Hoffman and Amanda took care of the situation. You have nothing to worry about.” He affirmed, sounding convincing. You decided to not keep questioning him about it. Instead you just nod. He gestured for you to fallow him.

”walk with me.” He said.

“sure…” You fallow him around. Until he stopped on a place far from the others.

“I think you know why I asked you to come….” He continued.

“I pretty much have an idea, yes.” You answered.

“I need you to do something for me.” He asked.

”Anything.” You didn’t even thought twice before answering. Cause the truth was, you would do anything for him, cause you couldn’t shake the feeling that you owned him so much. He looked at you tilting his head before speaking.

“I need you to keep an eye on Mark, please.” He spoke again, and you rose an eyebrow.

Mark?…that’s interesting.

”Sure…sure, I’ll do it. But-may I know…why?” You stated. Crossing your arms in front of you, hugging yourself. He looked at you for a second then nodded.

“Of course. I have reasons to believe he might still get emotionally involved with our games.” John explained, with his usual tone of voice and gestures, telling you how you should proceed. You nodded in agreement, there was nothing left to say.

John apparently noticed and let you go freely, kissing you goodbye in the cheek. You returned the gesture and smiled. Though you didn’t left the plant yet, cause when you were about to, you heard John speaking with someone else. This times you were sure. It was Mark Hoffman. You fallowed them from the shadows of the corners, they were going to the industrial bathroom again. Much to your surprise, someone was there. A middle age man, bound to the ceiling from the wrists. From the comfort on a corner you watched Mark going in with John. He talks to the guy in there, though you couldn’t really hear the whole conversation, you could catch only one phrase.

“That’s what I call…epic bad luck…”

Mark said, smirking and sounding as smug as always. You eyes lingered at his lips a little bit as he talked. His hair tucked backwards. You found yourself smiling slightly at his comment. You thought it would be fun to keep an eye on such a guy.

Hello!!! It’s been a while <3 but I’m back!! This time with something new!! Hope you like this Saw fic!! See you around!! Also, this is uploaded on AO3!! Here’s the link ❤️❤️

[thefirst3chapters]

Rewatched "Introducing Lorelai Planetarium," the one where Rory and Logan end up in a fight over an article Rory wrote and Logan says that Rory is "one of us." There are a lot of interesting discussions on here about whether Logan was justified in saying that, but there's also a lot of context behind what happened.

Some key details:

Rory had an intense day before she went to the party she wrote about. She was initially planning to go to a study group when Lorelai insisted that she go home for dinner that night instead. Then Logan made a surprise visit and invited her to a launch party with his team. Rory went home for dinner, and (surprise!) her parents got married in France while they were in a fairly new relationship that already had Rory somewhat concerned. After all that, she ends up at the party and stands there while someone tells her about all the challenges that have come up in building his luxury island home. Logan introduces Rory to a more down-to-earth journalist who invites her to send him an article about the party.

This launch party was for a project that Logan has been working on and is proud of, so it is significantly insulting when Rory takes a critical stance on the attendees. Even though Rory says that Logan isn't like the other people from this party, he has the self-awareness to acknowledge that he's a "rich trust fund kid," and he doesn't want to be seen as different from them.

Rory has a habit of throwing herself into projects when she is distressed, and she recognizes that is what happened with writing the article.

Logan talks to Rory like he's trying to win an academic debate and convince her that his stance is the most valid, and he has a habit of communicating in this business-like manner in personal relationships. (This is one of the reasons I ship Literati in the long run, because Rory's people-pleasing tendencies and need for stability can lead to her ideas being drowned out by both Dean's and Logan's personalities. Jess of course struggles with communication a lot as a teenager, but he does appear to be the most open to seeing things from Rory's perspective, and even if it takes time, he acts on what he's learned whether he and Rory are together or not.)

Rory doesn't claim to be a member of the working class, but she also says that she isn't living off a "$5 million trust fund." Logan tells her that she "isn't exactly paying rent, either" even though he asked her to move in with him in S6.

After this fight, the last shot is of Logan, who is visibly remorseful.

Rory brings her article to Lucy and Olivia, who think that the article had a "mean" tone. Rory is concerned because she was trying to be humorous and didn't intend to be that critical.

At the end of the day, Logan apologizes and says that he "was way out of line." Rory says that she didn't want to sound as harsh as she did in the article, and they both talk about how they are proud of each other. Rory was already thinking about moving out of the apartment since Logan is moving back to the US, and she decides that it's important to her to have her own place to live. This takes away the power dynamic of Rory living somewhere that is technically Huntzberger-sponsored and is arguably healthiest choice for both of them. A nice feature of S7 is that both Gilmore girls get to have pretty reasonable conversations with their love interests.

Anyway, there is a lot going on beyond the debate over whether Logan was right because Rory doesn't realize how privileged she is and someone needed to tell her or whether Logan was cruel and completely wrong. Besides, this isn't necessarily an either/or question. Personally, I think there is a kernel of truth to Logan's point, but the wealth he has access to is on an entirely different level from what even Richard and Emily have, and Rory spent most of her childhood in a working-class home before she benefitted financially from her grandparents. Logan might not know all that much about Rory's childhood because one of the themes of their relationship is mutual escapism. It's been brought up before that this dynamic is highlighted when he doesn't know that it's Rory's birthday in S6 and doesn't quite understand how important the plan of going to Atlantic City with Lorelai was to Rory. It's not a condemnation of Logan as a character, but it shows that Rory leaves part of herself behind, intentionally or not, when she's in the high society world. It could be (and is) argued that this is solely a side effect of Rory growing up and discovering new interests, but the narrative doesn't appear to frame it this way. When Rory retreats from her involvement with wealth, she is usually portrayed as being more fulfilled, but like Lorelai, she'll always be connected to high society at some level. This state of being caught between worlds is a major theme of the whole show.

[pickledpascal]

Put Me Back In

Chapter Two

Warnings: angst, threats of violence

Word Count: 1.8k

Put Me Back In Masterlist

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Wade was in the middle of typing in a few numbers on the microwave. He had to pop the popcorn to perfection for tonight. His plan had to go as smoothly as possible. He was wondering if he should light a few candles to set the mood but ultimately decided against it.

It would be too obvious of him. Y'know, Wade invited over a female while he was in a relationship and Logan wasn't. The lit candles would just seal the deal of what he intended to do. 

“The fuck are you doing?” Logan asked while he entered the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee as he scratched at the back of his head. 

Wade grabbed the popcorn from the microwave and transferred it to a bowl. “A friend is coming over. We're gonna watch 13 Going on 30!” He grinned. “And you're gonna watch it with us, honey badger.” 

Logan huffed before he took a sip from his mug. It was the middle of the day but he didn't have anything better to do. Drinking himself into a half-drunken stupor had started to lose its charm after the second week of living there. However, it was the only thing he knew to pass the time.

He didn't care about hobbies anymore. They didn't matter. His muse had died. There was no more inspiration to be had. Nothing could ever compare. 

There was a knock on the door. 

“Right on time!” Wade giggled. He dropped off the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table as he answered the door. 

As soon he opened the door, Logan was hit with waves of emotion. He could hear her voice, deeper than before but still recognizable. And her scent, how could he not recognize that? It was deeper, more mature than before, with a stronger hint of amber, and if that didn't make his heart race… 

He stepped out of the kitchen to catch a glimpse of her. She was focused on Wade, talking with him, not realizing there was someone else in the room. A part of him was glad so he had more time to get used to this new yet familiar presence. 

She had grown out her hair but it seemed duller than what he remembered. Still black, nearly midnight blue, that streak of vibrant blue at the base of her neck. But it was pulled back into a long braid that framed her face nicely. Her eyes had the faintest amount of wrinkles at the edges. Her cheekbones sharpened. She had aged. Not by much. But seeing her older… seeing her made his heart ache. She looked so beautiful. 

Maya was standing right in front of him. And he couldn't say anything. The words stuck on his tongue. She should've been alive in his universe to go through these changes. 

Soon, she registered that Logan was also there. Her two-toned eyes widened and dilated as they shifted to look at him. His breath escaped him when they were trained on him. He simply stared back. He hadn't registered the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Logan?” Maya's eyebrows furrowed. She frantically looked from Logan to Wade and back again. 

He felt his knees buckle at the sound of her name coming from her lips. He wasn't sure if he should kiss Wade's feet or skewer his head again. 

As if he was a deer standing up for the first time, Logan took a step forward to stand next to Wade. He took a breath and hastily exhaled it as his eyes roamed over her face. 

“Hey, Maya.” His voice was soft, quiet. He was afraid it would break if he spoke any louder. 

For the first time since she walked through that door, her eyes roamed over him. She took in the fact that his skin had no scars, barely any wrinkles, and that his hair was stripped of any grays. It was its usual true brown color. 

Wade smirked, hooking an arm around Maya's shoulder to bring her closer. “Great! You guys already know each other. So cute.”

“Wade.” Logan ground out, glaring at the man.

Wade pulled Maya over to the couch after he closed the door behind her and pushed her onto the couch. “It’s our designated movie night, peanut. You joining or not?” He sat in the middle of the couch, fiddling with the TV remote to cue up the movie. 

Logan wanted to yell at him, claw his lungs from his body, say that no he did not want to watch a movie with someone who shared the face of his dead friend but he stayed planted on the floor like a tree. Until something compelled him to sit on the couch. Wade acted as a barrier between him and Maya and he wasn’t sure if he appreciated that or not.

And then there was the touch that began as the movie started. Wade was all over Maya, hooking an arm in hers, lying his head against her shoulder, and sitting so close to her their knees were touching. It made Logan seethe. He wasn't sure why.

Maya wasn't his. She never was. 

They were only ever friends even if he wanted more. Wanted so much more that he couldn't say it out loud, fearing it would hurt. Everything slipped away from him when he was comfortable and he feared he would get too comfortable with her. 

Except she was torn away from him before he could truly feel that sense of comfort. Before he could say how deeply he felt for her. Before he could reveal how vulnerable he really was. It was too soon. Not just for him, but Maya had so much life to live. She was so young. She had already gone through so much because of the humans and she was on the cusp of finding hope again but that was ripped away from her.

He always felt guilty about that. He should've been there. He should've protected her. He should've protected all of them. 

For a while, he was just a rabid animal, killing anything that so much as looked at him in the wrong direction. Nothing could fill the emptiness in his chest. 

But somehow, Wade had given him a second chance. In life. In a different universe. But also with Maya. This version of Maya who had also lost a lover but didn't go on a homicidal rampage like he did. Did he deserve this? Did he deserve any second chance? Would this fill that hole in his chest? 

Logan sat rigidly as the movie played, trying not to think about Maya on the other edge of the couch but he couldn't help the glances at her.

The way the light from the TV shined against her skin, bouncing off it in all different directions, across her nose and the length of her eyelashes. It captivated him. His fingers twitched at his side. He was itching for a pencil and paper. 

When the movie finished, Wade left to go to his room with a lame excuse. “Oh, don't you just love Mark Ruffalo? And Jennifer Garner? Which reminds me, I need to go smashterbate.” 

The tension was palpable once he exited the living room. Their eyes met with a slow hinge of their heads. 

“I'm so sorry—”

“Please excuse Wade—”

Their words jumbled out. Logan felt stupid. He had spent so much time thinking about what he would have done different or said to have a different outcome and he was acting like a damn idiot. 

“You go first.” Logan offered, hoping it would give him enough time to say what he wanted. 

Maya pursed her lips, glancing down at the floor before they roamed back up to his face. He could feel the longing in them. More importantly, the sadness. “You're not him, are you?” Her voice cracked. 

He wished he could take that sadness away and bury it deep in the Earth. Maybe even under his ribcage. Then maybe it would never get out. 

“No, I—” Logan's mouth felt dry. 

He wondered how much worse it felt to spend years with someone as your lover and see them die. Killed. A sacrifice to protect her and their child. He couldn't imagine it. But that's what this Maya had gone through. 

“I'm not.” His voice was a little stronger. “I'm sorry.” He wasn't sure what else to say. He couldn't help that he probably did not compare to her lover at all. 

A hero. 

Maya let out a watery laugh and shook her head, pressing a hand to the side of her head. He had a feeling he knew what she was thinking. What a cruel thing fate was, wasn't it? A man who wore her lover's face was right in front of her. 

“Don't be sorry.” She whispered. Logan blinked, unsure if he heard her right. “It's not your fault.”

He's heard those words so many times. Laura, Wade, and other X-Men from this universe have told him that but the way she said it—the soft, deep tone of her voice, the way her eyes were so sincere, he nearly believed it. 

Maya stood from the couch, “I'm sorry, I need to leave.” She was out before Logan could utter a single word more. 

He looked at the door once it was closed and stared for a while. He hadn't expected to ever see Maya in this universe. A part of him believed she might have died with the Logan of this universe. But to have her alive and friends with Wade. Oh, this was a torture designed specifically for him. 

Or perhaps it was the best invisible string pull in the universe. They would find each other no matter what and, although Logan had plenty of shit he needed to work through, he knew he would choose Maya. Over and over. Again and again. 

He couldn't lose her. Not anymore. Not right after he had found her again.

He could thank Wade but that would just make the bastard even more smug than he likely was. He was probably lying on his bed with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

Actually, he should slice his head off with the way he was feeling up Maya. Yeah, that sounded like a wonderful idea. However, it would be a shame to stain the wooden floors with Wade’s blood and he didn’t want Althea to yell at him, she could be quite scary for a frail old blind woman.

Instead, Logan rifled through the kitchen drawers. He swore he saw a notepad somewhere. It was mostly filled with grocery lists with questionable things written in it like: cock ring, flavored lube, cherries, whipped cream (very important). He wrinkled his nose at the array of scribbles. There were a lot of blank pages, though, that’s what mattered. 

He tore out the pages Wade wrote on and threw them in the trash, retreating to his room with a pencil. Inspiration had found him again. 

[mrs-jury]

After a long time I realized it was time to show my Ghosts Oc and here is Orion🪐...

(l know my digital painting is ☠️, but I promise I'll fix this ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ)

Whatever,lets move on to the information part...

✿ Name:???(She doesn't prefer use her real name.Only a few medical personnel know her real name)

✿ Nickname:Orion or Rio (Sometimes other ghosts call her Oreo as a joke, but she really doesn't care)

✿ Gender:Female

✿ Age:26

✿⁠ Birth:07/21/2001 (Yeah she born at the same year as Logan)

✿⁠ Sign:Cancer

✿⁠ MBTİ:İNTP

✿⁠ Nationality:Turkey

✿⁠ Height:1,64 cm

✿⁠ Branch:Medic

♪ Favorite Colour:Blue and Red

♪ Favorite Animal:

♪ Favorite Food:Stuffed grape leaves

♪ Favorite Book:Nowhere İs Home Anymore-John Boyne

♪ Favorite Song:

♪ Favorite Activity:Sudoku-Drawing

♪ Fobies:High Places and...Economi

♪ Favorite Fruit and Vegetable:Watermelon-Carrot

'Small' İnformation Part:

෴ After Odin's attacks,a civilian doctor found her injured when she was 20 years old and,upon Orion's request,he gave her a solid medical education (Emergency Surgery,wound healing during conflict,making medicine with materials needed in nature,making vaccines,etc.).Incredibly,Orion reached the level of a master doctor in 6 years.

෴ Orion recognizes people by looking at them from afar.But she hates this habit.But over time,she managed to overcome it.

෴ Hates Mushrooms and Eggplants.

෴ She can only use a gun as a weapon.Yes,because she didn't receive proper gun training.Her skill in using a gun comes from his father.When she was little,her father taught her how to hold a gun every time they went to the forest.And for that, she is grateful to her father.

෴ She's bad at lifting heavy loads but...god,that speed...Seriously just tell her where to go and she's right there.In some missions,while other ghosts have a hard time getting through tight places,Orion literally looks like she's walking through.

෴ Most of the time she doesn't care about small injuries.But...if she sees someone she cares about getting seriously injured...She could seriously have a heart attack right there and no one would blame her for that.

෴ If you give her any information about anything, you'll probably get the following response;

"What should I do with this info¿.."

...

"But this is so important"

"So..."

like this...

෴ Sometimes,if she has accidentally offended people or done something to make them angry,she can give them small gifts (Like bracelets or pins)

Relaitonship With Boys;

❤️Red:Hate/Enemy

🧡Orange: Don't know

💛Yellow:Know

💚Green:Like/Respect

💙Blue:Friends

💜Purple:BBF

🩷Pink:Crush

(İf someone want to use👇)

[hughiecampbelle]

Succession Preference: Baby Roy Having Panic Attacks

Requested: hello lovely i hope your doing well been binge reading all your baby roy fics, just wondering if your comfortable doing it how would the roy siblings deal with baby roy having panic attacks, if your comfortable with it, if not ignore this? hope you have a lovely day :) - anon

A/N: Oh my love I hope you're having a wonderful day! I've had panic attacks since I was ten, eleven maybe. I still remember my first one, it was terrifying. I can only speak from my experience, so I'm sorry if anything isn't universal. I hope you like it!!!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Succession Masterlist

Connor knows exactly what to do. You've been having panic attacks for years, since you were a kid. He talks to you in a soothing voice, rubbing your back, reminding you that you're safe, that everyone and everything is okay. It's been happening a lot more since Logan's passing. Ever since you found out, it feels like you can't catch your breath. You get so worked up in the thought of losing everyone you love, your brothers and sister. You've tried putting it into words, explaining your fears, hoping it would put an end to the panic attacks. It doesn't, but at least Connor knows what's been bothering you. When he sees the warning signs, the shaking hands, the sporadic breathing, the panicked look in your eyes, he steps into action. When it's over, you thank him, but he just shakes his head. That's what he's here for. As a big brother, it's his job to protect you from every thing. When he can't do that, at least he can be there for you through it.

Kendall has had panic attacks before. Every time he crashes, every time he deals with Logan, etc. He's no stranger to them. But when his baby starts to hyperventilate, when you start to cry and shake and gasp for air, he's clueless. He talks to you really loud, like you can't understand him, and slowly like you're an idiot. Between gasps, you try to explain that you can tell what he's saying, it's just not helping. He rubs your back, getting on your level. Y/n, uh, it's-it's okay. Deep breaths. In and out, kid. It's okay. He should have known something like this would happen. Logan was always going on and on about how you were always being so "dramatic", that when he raised his voice even a little bit you start to spiral. Kendall feels awful that he didn't realize what was going on, that he just went along with what your father was saying. Eventually you start to calm down, wiping your tears, apologizing to him for your "outburst". Awkwardly, he assures you that it's okay, that you should really talk to someone about your panic attacks. Not to listen to Dad when he says hurtful things.

Shiv recognizes your panic attack before anyone else. She had them in college, before midterms and finals. She didn't know what they were only that it happened and it felt like she was dying every time. She never grew out of them, she just got better at hiding them. She rubs your back, knowing whatever she says isn't really going to help. Another phone call with your mother always left you feeling panicked. She felt the same way after a few hours with Caroline. You feel silly and stupid, getting all worked up, but you can't help it. The tears start falling before you can stop them. Your whole body feels numb. She assures you that you'll never be crazy like her, that all the hurtful things she says she doesn't really mean, that you'll get through this. Between the gasping and the panic, you laugh. God you hope you'll never be like her, never be that cruel and uncaring. Shiv always knows how to make you feel better, even if it's at your mothers expense.

Roman thinks you're dying. He genuinely thinks you're leaving for good. He claps in front of your face, trying to keep you awake. Gasping, you roll your eyes, trying to do your best to tell him that you're not dying, you're having a panic attack. He's not sure what that is or how to help. You're at a huge party and there are just too many people. It feels like all their eyes are on you. He offers to get you a drink and to call Shiv or Kendall. You're curled into a ball trying to control your breathing. Eventually you get yourself under control, but he wasn't very much help. You always get like this in crowds. You thought there would be a lot less people, you had no idea the kind of turnout. Afterwards you tell him this, but during you're drowning in your own thoughts. It's too much. Through the night he checks up on you, fearing it'll happen again. It doesn't, you're grateful.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"NOW AND FOREVER"

This is a story, the main idea of ​​which is from @ramblingautisticman in which Wade feels uncomfortable with his body, but instead of Logan feeling insecure about his emotions, I thought it would be nice if Logan stayed strong for Wade, despite his insecurities. That he would put them aside for a second to focus totally on Wade, is something I think he would definitely do.

I hope you like it!

Wade just got home from work. It's the worst day of his fucking life. I mean, the family of uptight rich snobs he helped at the dealership decided to take a fucking Honda Odyssey instead of a Volkswagen Passat, which is perfect for what they were looking for.

He sat down on the bed he shared with Logan and proceeded to remove the staples holding the toupee he wore to work. He was a mess, so he decided he would take a shower to calm his thoughts, which were racing through his head.

He placed his clothes on the bed after quickly taking them off, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror. It was no secret that ever since the accident, Wade hated his body.

There were days when he didn't understand why Logan would want to be with someone like him. I mean, there were plenty of hot guys whose bodies weren't fucking burned, and which they could brag about.

On the contrary, Wade tried to cover his own as much as possible. He turned to the mirror and looked at himself for a few seconds. It didn't take long for the tears to come. He slid to the floor and sat down in front of the surface that reflected his image, hugging himself. Intrusive thoughts began to bombard his head in waves.

“You're horrible”

“Logan is with you out of pity”

“You're pathetic”

“You should be dead”

Without realizing it, the front door of the house opened. Logan entered the house and left the keys in the bowl on the shelf.

As soon as he entered, he knew something was wrong. Wade's smell was in the air, but there was something else, a salty smell that Logan recognized instantly.

Tears.

Wade was crying.

He quickly entered the house, looked at all the rooms until he reached his bedroom, and there he was, sitting in front of the mirror with only his underwear on. Tears ran down his cheeks.

Logan didn't know how to talk to him, I mean, what should you say when you find the person you love the most in a situation like that? He didn't need to say anything, because he turned around when he felt a presence behind him.

He wiped his tears with the back of his hand, while sketching a sad smile that made Logan's heart tighten tightly in his chest.

-Peanut -he greeted- you're home now

-Wade, honey -he murmured, carefully approaching him until he sat next to him- What's wrong?

-Nothing -he shook his head- it's nothing, really. I've just had a shitty day at work, that's all

-It's okay if you don't want to tell me -he said, looking at him delicately- you know I won't pressure you, but I think the reason you're like this isn't just because of work

Wade took a deep breath for a few seconds before looking at Logan again. His clear eyes watched him expectantly. Then Wade knew that no matter what he said, no matter how strange it sounded, he would always support him, because he loved him and that is exactly what people who love each other do, they are there for each other, in good times but especially in bad times.

-My body… -he began before Logan's attentive gaze-

-What's wrong with it? -he encouraged him-

-I hate it -he confessed, Howlett didn't say anything waiting for him to continue- sometimes I can't stand to look at myself in the mirror without feeling bad about myself for being like this -tears rolled down her cheeks again- I would understand if you wanted to leave me for someone more handsome than me -she laughed sarcastically- although that wouldn't be very difficult

-Listen to me well Wade Winston Wilson -Logan murmured holding his face between his hands- I'm not going anywhere, do you hear me? -she asked, he nodded- I love you -she said- fuck, I love you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else but you -she wiped the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs- so don't you say that fucking bullshit about leaving you again -she said- I'm not going to leave your side, ever -she assured him making him cry with relief- Wade held his gaze firmly, as did Logan who gave him a loving kiss on the forehead

-About your body -she said making him tense- you have to get it into your fucking head that I love you for who you are -she said- I don't give a fucking shit what your body is like, do you understand what I'm saying? -he questioned- you have nothing to be ashamed of- he ran his fingers along his collarbone, making Wade's skin crawl under his touch- you don't know how lucky I feel that you're mine- he confessed- the fact that someone else instead of me was kissing you, loving you and taking care of you… - he shook his head negatively- it's just something that doesn't enter my head

-Wolvie… - he whispered excitedly- Do you really think all that?

-Of course I do, you fucking idiot- he murmured, pulling him towards him in a strong hug- Do you think that if I didn't, I would have spent the last twenty fucking minutes praising you?

-I guess not- Wade agreed, snuggling up to his chest- They remained silent for a few seconds, until Logan spoke again.

-Wade?

-Mhm? –the named murmured-

-What were you going to do when I found you? –he asked looking him up and down- I say that because you're not wearing anything

Wade's cheeks blushed in a way that Logan found adorable. He sketched a smile at seeing his reaction. It wasn't normal for Wade to feel shy about his comments. Normally it was the other way around.

-I was going to take a shower –he confessed, uncertainty floating in the air between them- Do you want to join?

-I was waiting for you to ask me –he smiled making Wade do the same- it's the perfect time to show you how much I like your body

-Wolvie! –Winston shrieked getting rid of his grip between laughs- You're a very naughty kitty!

-Maybe- he smiled half-smiled as they both entered the bathroom, he closed the door behind him, and held Wade by the waist, leaning him against the tiled wall- but I'm YOUR naughty kitten- he whispered, closing the distance that separated them to kiss his lips- now and forever

-Now and forever- Wade replied between kisses-

[gemsofthegalaxy]

maybe i sound a little crazy but also.... Greg plays a role very similar to Eurydice. As I explained elsewhere, there is no real Orpheus in succession, although I still think Tom is the closest with regard to the role he would fill for Greg/Eurydice. Very crucially, Tom has no real interest in dismantling/dreaming of a new world or way to do things, he wants to partake in the world as is, which is not the case with Orpheus.

With Greg alone, though- he too starts the show hungry and often lonely, like Eurydice. One of the things he recognizes in Tom is how lonely and scared Tom is, and I believe this is part of what makes Greg at least a bit sympathetic/endeared towards him when Tom is often a huge dick to him.

While Eurydice is not as power hungry as Greg, she does notably have a line wondering how it feels to "own everything" like Hades does. She has a drive to her that comes from the scarcity she knows, which is something in common with Greg, being familiar with the burden of great debt from his own experience and his mother's.

Eurydice and Greg both follow the hand that feeds them, even if they have connection to someone else. This is extremely prominent for Greg in season 4, where he continuously works with Tom even when they both know he favors Kendall. He plays stupid in front of Matsson and Oskar in Norway to bail Tom out, he makes sure Tom knows about Shiv playing both sides, he says Tom's name to Mencken before his own, and he checks in with Tom at the funeral, is heavily implied to have talked to the media on two occasions trying to make Tom look relevant/uncontroversial, respectively.

Still. Like Eurydice, who adores Orpheus, has never felt this sort of love before and desperately wants to keep it- Greg chooses to give major information to Kendall even though it could hurt Tom, because he feels like Kendall is the better, safer bet and has more to offer him than Tom does.

And in this way, both Greg and Eurydice beg a very similar question- where is the line? How much do you give up, compromise your heart's desires and/or what you know to be right in order to access food and shelter? Yes, Greg was said to be making 200k in the finale, but if the whole show takes place over the course of one year given we only see Logan celebrate two birthdays..... he most likely was not making that this whole time, and he started the show with a maxed card, and credit card debt is horrible debt to manage. He bought a $40,000 watch that didn't even work, and he was the guarantor on his mother's card which she was trying to max out on buying nutribullets.

Greg has way way less to fall back on than anyone else in the show, even at 200k a year. His desperation is not grounded in the same thing as most of the other characters, who will at least be fine financially even if they are emotionally distraught.

As the Fates' say,

Go ahead and lay the blame

Talk of virtue

Talk of sin

Wouldn't you have done the same?

In her shoes?

In her skin?

You can have your principles,

When you've got a bellyful

But hunger has a way with you

There's no telling what you're gonna do,

when the chips are down