#but she’s also listened to max and is doing it now for her own self! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adventuringblind · 10 months

Text

I See Your Beauty

Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!reader

Genre: a little angst mixed with fluff and comfort

Summary: the youngest Verstappen is forced to do life without her vision. Thinking she might not be able fully experience her life due to the remarks of her father, she concedes that finding love is unlikely. Until she runs into Charles who helps her believe she doesn’t need her eyesight to be loved.

Warnings: Jos is his own warning now. Talks of disability and reader having an accident. Talks and depictions of verbal and physical abuse.

Request: nope this is self-indulgent. However, I am taking requests for Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, and Daniel.

Notes: written in third person. Also, this fic deals with disabilities, particularly blindness. I myself am blind though I still have some vision left, which is mainly what I’m basing this off of. Please remember that blindness is a spectrum like many other disabilities. It is defined really by a loss of vision that can’t be corrected. I’m open to answering questions about it if y’all have any. My inbox and asks are always open :)

Masterlist

The youngest of the Verstappen’s very close with her brother, Max. The two are barely a year apart so it makes sense. Though they get in each others nerves often as well. Victoria doing her best as the oldest to settle arguments between the two.

Jos decided that two children in racing gives him better odd then just one. Electing to have both start karting at an early age.

They liked racing together. Getting used to being each others rocks when their father was harsher then necessary. It became routine for the two to defend each other.

Then everything changed.

The two were moving up through the ranks. Competing harder then ever to make your dad proud.

The accident wasn’t her fault. A consequence of her father from trying to build a faster car and not having test run it.

The engine exploded during the race. Every one of her senses ranged useless as she tried to react.

Ears ringing.

Smoke from the fire burning in her nose.

Blood from whatever hitting her knocking her teeth into her lip.

Heat nipping at her skin.

Lack of sight making her steering erratic.

Max had immediately rushed to aid his sister. Their father only staring in disappointment. He became resentful of his father that day.

The ambulance arrived and took you away. Max begged to go with but Jos ignored his request, telling him he needed help cleaning up his youngest daughter mess.

After hours the finally arrived back home. The other two Verstappen’s confused why the youngest was nowhere to be found. Max finally broke down in tears, much to his father dislike, and clutched Victoria for comfort. Telling her everything that had happened.

While three of them went to the hospital to find you, the fourth sat wallowing in disgrace at the display from his children today. He couldn’t admit he’d made a mistake. One that might have cost him a child.

Meanwhile the youngest was out of surgery. Continually crying for her family. The nurses had tried to reach her father who had given the medics his cell number, but they had yet to hear from him.

When her family arrived she tried her best to make out their faces. The sparks from the engine had been so bright that they burned her retinas. The combination of the fire doing permanent damage. The impact of the engine had knocked her helmet almost all the way off and she instinctively pushed it away to try and see again. The protection of the visor gone.

The three siblings cuddled together in her hospital bed. The youngest not fully comprehending why she couldn’t see. The lights were too bright. She was squinting to make out the small details.

Things didn’t improve after that. Jos became angry towards her. Constantly reminding the girl of what happened, what she did wrong, and how if she hadn’t messed up she might have been successful.

Regardless, she listened to him berate her at everyone of Max’s races. He stopped commenting about Max when she was within earshot. Mostly because she told him off every time he insulted her brother. Jos already deemed her the disappointment of the family, standing up for Max couldn’t possibly make things worse.

Max had also gotten more protective of his sister. Having been the one to pull her away from the wreckage and cleaning up the damage made him realize he didn’t want you to get hurt again.

He made it to every doctors appointment he could. He attended as much physical therapy as you would let him. He even put on a blind fold so he could understand a bit better. He helped her learn cane skills and how to guide you himself. All in an effort to help his sister feel less alone.

He was aware she still had some eyesight lift. Mostly cloudy and bright patches dotted her eyes making it difficult to make out where things are and any specific details. She liked seeing what she could of her siblings faces though.

Max determined he was going to bring you to every race with him. The Verstappen losing all ability to drive now making things harder for her and she didn’t want to stay with her father.

Victoria had a room for her in her house and let her stay when she needed. Max always made sure there was a room for her if she wanted to travel with him. She loved how willing her sibling were to help her out. However, it left her feeling useless and vulnerable at times.

Eventually, Max helped get her a job with Redbull as a strategist. She enjoyed playing with the different data. Listening became a more essential job then seeing.

Race days were spent in the garage unnoticed in the back. Hopefully out of view of the cameras and away from her father. They saw each other often, much to her dismay. He always had something to say to her when Max wasn’t around.

It was during her downtime that she met Charles.

Deciding her cane was unnecessary since she knew her way around the paddock and the ground is relatively flat, she went to hunt down her brother.

Neither party was paying attention leading to them running straight into each other. She could vaguely make out the Ferrari red race suit standing in front of her. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” Came the voice of Charles Leclerc. Though the two had never formally met, she had heard during interviews enough to know his voice.

“It’s alright, neither was I.” She smiled at the Monegasque. “Have you seen Max anywhere?”

He chuckles. “Unfortunately no. Are you his girlfriend?”

The question makes her laugh hysterically. “I’m his sister.” She can hear him sigh in relief at the clarification.

“That’s better at least because I wanted to say that you are very beautiful.” The playfulness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Completely taking her off guard. Sure she’d gotten complements, but not often enough to make her used to them. The words of Jos not letting her believe them anyway. “Would it be alright if I give you my number?”

She lost all words in that moment. This had never happened before. “Sure-” she manages to stutter out before handing him her phone. The screen reading out things to her so she could get to her intended destination.

“I’ve never see a phone do that before.” Charles takes the phone from her and starts to put in his information.

She mentally face palms herself. Obviously he hasn’t realized she’s blind. “Actually I don’t have much of my eyesight.” She play with the bottom of her shirt. Her father having instilled in her that her blindness is something to be ashamed of.

“Wait- so you are blind? That is very interesting, I would like to know more if you’re okay with it.” The curiosity in his voice rising.

She wasn’t prepared for this. Nobody asks her questions about her condition. Even Christian doesn’t touch the subject and she never brings it up in conversation. “I guess, if your really interested.”

“Great, I’ll see you later tonight. Send me the address of where you’re staying.” His playful and flirty manner never faulted as he walked past her. Leaving the girl confused and blushing.

Little did she know that Charles had seen her around the paddock. Mostly hanging off of Max’s arm. He assumed she’d never notice him wave or try to get her attention. Turns out she couldn’t see him. He knows better then to assume. He blames it on the anxiety of being around her.

The youngest Verstappen finished up her duties as quick as possible. Catching a ride with her brother back to the hotel. He has learned to read her though and immediately noticed something was different. “What’s going on with you? You seem very smiley today.” He laughs.

“I can’t tell you because you’ll hate me.” She did her best not to appear nervous but was ultimately failing. Her hands fiddling in her lap.

“I could never hate you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She glances over at him. Eyes planted on the road. His calm demeanor putting her at ease. “Charles Leclerc asked me on a date tonight.”

Max begins laughing hysterically. His once smooth driving now a bit jerky from his sudden movements. “You thought I would hate you because of a date?”

She stutters a bit. “Well- aren’t you two rivals?” She manages. His laughing throwing her emotions all over the place.

“Sure, on the track. Off the track we are still friends and I trust him.” He explains. Relief floods through her body at his words. Her confidence in the situation going up a little.

She can feel the smug look on Max’s face. “Do you want help getting ready?”

The two siblings spent over an hour playing dress up. Max eventually having to video call Victoria and ask her opinion. The two trying to make their sister feel like she owns the world.

Dressing is less tricky then make-up. Sometimes she didn’t feel like it was worth the struggle and didn’t put it on. Some day she had to call Victoria to make sure everything looked right. If there was good lighting she was typically fine, but tonight was not one of those nights.

Growing up between two sisters, Max had learned a decent amount about make-up. He even enjoyed getting to do it on his sisters if they would let him. The almost squeal he let our when his sister asked for help was both hilarious and ridiculous. Immediately setting things up on the bathroom counter and going to work.

Max could tell his sister was anxious. Their father having scared away any of your potential boyfriends. Even going as far as to tell they that she is diseased. One of the worst things about having Jos around the garage, is that you’re left with him.

Though Max has stepped in many time and even lectured his father about his word choices, he never let up on any of the Verstappen children. All of them getting some aspect of their father’s insecurity thrown back at them like it’s their fault.

When he was done, Max tried to sooth your nerves. “Dad isn’t around. He’s in his own hotel room. Go have fun.”

And that’s exactly what she did.

The conversation between her and Charles flowed. He asked questions that weren’t invasive and was respectful if she didn’t want to answer. He made her laugh ridiculously hard.

So they kept doing it. She had to follow Redbull for work which made things easier in the two. Finding down time to meet up or celebrating together after races.

After the season was over, the two went on a holiday together.

Charles spent a good amount of time learning from her (and in turn Max) how to guide if the need ever arose.

Charles was so gentle with her. Always letting her know if there was something unexpected around. Telling her who was in the room.

If felt like a dream. One she never wanted to wake up from. Charles had assured her multiple times that she wasn’t dreaming and that their love is very real.

But alas, Jos likes to make things difficult.

A few races into the new season, Charles still had yet to formally meet Jos and the Verstappen siblings intended on keeping it that way. It wasn’t secret. Everyone in the paddock know the two were dating. Jos just hadn’t had the chance to talk to him yet.

She’d mentioned her childhood a few times but could never get out the full extent of what happened. Charles thankfully is patient with her and lets her take her time. He knows Jos’ reputation. Her childhood couldn’t have been the most amazing with him around.

This particular race, she was forced into close proximity with him. There had been a mistake during a pit stop for Max which made him lose some positions. Ending the race in fifth. To her it isn’t bad at all, but to the angry Dutchman unleashing his fury on everything, it most certainly is.

Sensing his rising anger, she had pulled her father into a more secluded area. Hoping that Max wouldn’t come back to the garage for awhile. At least not before she could talk some sense into their father.

She said nothing as strings of curse words left his lips. Only waiting for him to run out of breath.

“Did you see how he got lazy? He would’ve finished higher after the idiots didn’t do their jobs if he had put in more effort.”

“Max put in all his effort and you know it.” She scoffs. Arms folded over her chest. This is nothing new to her.

“Like you have any room to talk.” He snaps back. Her head now sagging, knowing his anger is now finding a new direction.

Charles, on the other hand, had been looking for her. It’s his first win of the season and she is nowhere to be found. Max ran up to him as the podium celebration ended. Patting him on the back for his well earned win.

“Have you seen your sister anywhere, mate?” He asked the Dutch.

Max ponders for a moment. “She might still be in the garage debriefing after what happened.” He replies. “I can walk you over if you want.”

The two drivers made their way to the Redbull garage to find most of those who would normally be inside, standing outside in a huddle. “What the hell is happening?” Max shouts over to Christian as the two approach him.

“I was just about to go find you.” Christian sighs in exasperation. “Can I call security on your father? He hasn’t stopped shouting since the race finished up.”

Charles and Max exchanged glances. The young woman’s absence now making more sense. “I’ll try and talk him down.” Stated Max before weaving his way through the sea of Redbull shirts. Charles following close behind.

Before the two could get further away, Christian yelled out to them. “Good luck, your sister has been trying!” The statement make the two move faster.

Charles could feel his emotions bubbling as the shouting got louder. As him and Max turn the corner, he immediately spots who he’d been looking for. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she felt around the floor looking for something.

Max steps in between her and the angry Dutch, shouting back and forth in their native tongue. Charles tries to spot what she’s feeling for. Scanning the ground until he spots her phone. The entire thing shattered. Small pieces of glass just barely reflecting the light. He’s down by her side in an instant.

“Love, it’s Charles, max is here also, I’m going to get you out of here okay?”

Her body turns towards Charles. It’s then he notices the specks of blood dotting her hands from feeling around the glass and a deep purple bruise forming on her forehead.

She’s struggling to breath now. Listening to the angry shouts. The pain in her head and the bright fluorescents not helping her see anything. She back in the crash.

Her father had spend from the end of the race until now laying into her. She had successfully defended Max and thought she was prepared to take the brunt of it. Until he snatch her phone and threw it at her. It hit her head so hard she was in the ground in seconds. Trying to feel her way around to where it might have gone so she could call Max.

The words were so familiar to her. The ones she heard in her nightmares when she was once again surrounded by smoke and bright lights stealing away her vision.

“I don’t want to crash again Charles. It’s to hot. It hurts too much. I can’t see anything.” She tried to search for him but ended up with more glass in her palm. The tears only thickening.

“Stay put, okay? I’m going to help Max and then I’ll be right back.” He didn’t want to leave her on the floor. She looked like a child, and so did Max in this moment. The two getting their fathers wrath with no end in sight.

Charles sprints back to Christian, yelling at him to call security, then sprints back to Max.

“Mr. Verstappen I think you are out of line here.” Says the monegasque. Signaling Max to stay with you. He didn’t move at first but it was obvious he was getting nowhere, so he obliged. Kneeling down to help his sister calm her breathing.

Jos scoffs at Charles. “You have no right to get in between me and my children.” Anger pooling from his features.

“I mean no disrespect sir, but you’re being an asshole.”

“And is she-“ he jabs his finger at the girl on the floor, “-not disgusting.” Charles almost hits him but refrains from doing so knowing security will be arriving soon.

“On the contrary, I think she is an angel.”

“She’s diseased. She hasn’t even tried to fix her mistakes. Look at her! She just wants attention for what she did to herself!”

Now Charles doesn’t hesitate to punch him. His fist colliding with Jos’ jaw, sending him stumbling into the wall.

Max took his attention off his sister, who was leaning against him, and placed it on Charles. Shock clearly evident of his features.

Jos attempted to confront Charles again, but security finally showed up and escorted Jos out of the paddock.

Charles exhales, glad the confrontation is over. “That’s not how I imagined meeting your father for the first time.” Charles chuckles nervously.

Is doesn’t take much longer until Charles has his love safely wrapped in his arms. Whisking her away to his hotel room. Max had stayed ti make sure everything got cleaned up at the paddock. Kelly arriving shortly with Penelope in tow, ready to comfort Max.

She cried when they were finally safe inside. Pouring out to Charles about the accident and what it had caused in her life. He listened intently, doing his best to soothe the girl. Her panic still clearly evident.

Soon enough she’d calmed. Her head laying in Charles lap while he threaded his fingers through her hair.

“It don’t care what anyone else says. I see your beauty and it is not defined by what you can’t see.”

801 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 6 months

Text

Vampire Waltz - ch 5

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Teasing, fluff, Dolly has low self esteem but it's not her fault, Bat Max comes with his own warning. Summary: In the course of one day, conversations turn from right interesting to downright life-changing, as Max starts to learn the truth of your connection from you but also from his sire. Notes: Big revelations are coming, folx! 🎵 Let's have a beautiful picture of the wonderful ballroom this week.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

You really should be paying more attention as Candance and Tracy talk through coven business. The room that you have come to know as the Green Salon in your inherited house is full to the brim with coven members all talking about the food drive they want to help out at for Thanksgiving next month. There are volunteer signups to follow through with and your own can drive to be organized, and you have to admit that this is the most community-focused coven that you've ever been a part of. But still you can't focus. The dreams have been so vivid lately, and they're such a mix of topics – your little bat friend pops up so often, and you haven't dreamt about Yayo in years. And now...now thoughts of Max are starting to slip in between the cracks and you aren't quite sure what it all means.

Mrs. Taylor smiles as she listens to the chattering of the coven. It's been too long since there has been life within these walls. He had been right in assuming that you would bring that life back to the mansion. Knocking on the door, she opens it to find several heads turned her way and she clears her throat. "Ladies, lunch is served."

"Thank you, Mrs. Taylor." Her appearance snaps you out of your daze for a moment, and you lend her a grateful smile. Breakfast this morning was simple because it was just for you, but Renee said that Mrs. Taylor had already been toiling away on lunch from early in the morning. She seems to revel in having people in the house again and you are the last person to want to deny someone the thing that makes them happy.

"Let's go in and we can start planning the masquerade while we eat," Allison suggests, pushing up from the couch that the two of you had been sitting on.

The housekeeper smiles before she disappears again. Aware that he is upstairs and once the meal is presented for the humans, she is going to take him one of the special blood bags that he requests when he is in residence.

The coven has preferred things ‘family style’ in recent years, even when Ms. Brown was a more traditional and formal woman most of the time. So Mrs. Taylor has set the table with bowls of fresh salad, baskets of warm homemade crusty bread, and tureens of steaming hot beef bourguignon. A few of the ladies, Allison included, all groan happily to have Mrs. Taylor’s cooking back. She pulls out a notebook to place at her seat but pauses, allowing herself what she thinks is a private smile when Eddie enters the dining room.

“Is it still alright for me to join you?” He asks, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans and a nervous expression on his face as he looks around. The invitation is a week old and might not still hold, so he wants to check.

"Of course!" Allison leaps up from her chair, even though it technically should be you answering Eddie since it is your house. "I mean, I don't think anyone would mind, right?" She looks around the table and is silently grateful for when the girls easily shift down to leave a spot right next to her own chair for the vampire to sit.

“Of course.” When you echo your agreement that seems to be the end of any debate at all. “We were going to start planning the masquerade while we eat.”

"Oh, I have to admit, I am hoping that I am invited." He tells the coven hopefully, giving them a charming grin. "I have always wanted to go to a masquerade."

“Of course you will be.” Candace pipes up from across the table, where the bread basket is already being passed around. “You live here. It would be awfully rude not to invite you when you live here.” Of course, it’s for Allison’s benefit too. And for you, since you seem a little more relaxed around Eddie than most other people.

"That's good." He makes sure to pass the bread to Allison when it comes his way, not taking one for himself. "Is this - it's going to be a thing that requires dates?" He slides his hands under the table to rub them on his thighs. His hands aren't sweaty anymore, he doesn't sweat, but he is nervous.

"It could be." Allison worries her bottom lip as she takes a slice of warm bread and passes you the basket. "What do you think, Dolly?"

"It...it doesn't seem nice to make it mandatory," you admit, taking a slice of bread and passing the basket along again. You can't imagine anyone in the world would be your date to such a thing and you would hate to be excluded from the night for something like that. Especially, like Candance said, with it being held in your own house. "But dancing is always fun with a partner."

Eddie nods, sensing that you don't like the idea. "Then we should make sure that it's not required to have dates, but maybe the guest list is even to make sure everyone is paired up when it comes to dancing."

“Like dance cards?” The salad is making its way around now and once more Eddie passes it on while he listens to you. “As in…something old fashioned? Dance cards for everyone who wants one?”

“I don’t know what it would be like, but I love the sound of that.” He glances towards Allison and wonders if he can make sure that he is on her dance card more than once.

“Mrs. Taylor brought out some old photographs from past masquerades in the house.” You haven’t seen them yet, but you’ve been told that all the gowns were one of a kind and the men looked resplendent in their costumes. That’s what Mrs. Taylor said, with absolute rhapsody on her face. “A hundred and fifty years ago they would start the ball at ten or so at night, serve supper around midnight, and end the thing with breakfast at sunrise for whoever was left.”

“That sounds perfect.” Of course, Eddie knows why it was held at night, but he’s not going to say anything about that. “Are you thinking of keeping to that tradition?”

“How does it sound to everyone else?” You ask, looking around the table.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.” Of course, Allison would practically think anything Eddie suggests would be wonderful, but this does sound amazing. “It’s an ode to the past.”

“A return to the Gilded Age sounds fun.” Candace agrees. “We can do themed menus if Mrs. Taylor is okay with it? And encourage historical costumes?”

“I think that Mrs. Taylor would love that.” Eddie agrees. “She loves things like that. It would make her year. And I’ll help out wherever I can.”

“Thirteen of us, plus guests. That’s a fairly big party isn’t it?” You differ to Mrs. Taylor, who has popped into the dining room again to bring more bread like she somehow magically knew the first round would go instantly.

“Invite as many as you like, ladies,” she insists. Her smile is excited and eyes are twinkling like she has a secret she is just bursting to share. “This house can handle hundreds.”

“You could always invite the town as well.” Eddie suggests. “Make it the event of the season.”

“The whole town? Can we do that?” Tracy looks intrigued at the idea and glances around the table. “It could be a hell of a fundraiser, and I know we’re always looking for ways to do more good in the community.”

“It could be a ticketed event.” Eddie muses. “All proceeds going to the coven's charitable works?”

"It actually sounds like a whole lot of fun." The last time you organized any kind of dance or fundraiser was with your dance studios in high school and then in college, but back then it had been a blast to get decorations, refreshments, flyers, and all the necessary things sorted out for big events. It was a sense of accomplishment that nothing else quite seemed to give you. Bringing people together and seeing everyone happy? Your mother called it your hostess's heart, and had always said you would use it to help people one day. This seems like a beautiful way to make her words come true. "Tracy, you work at town hall, don't you? If we need any permits for serving alcohol or having a large fundraiser, would you be able to take care of them?"

“Of course!” Tracy beams at the thought of being able to help in any significant way. “I’ll find out Monday and let you know.”

“What about music?” Allison asks next. Everyone is starting to eat, and people are getting excited. And with Eddie sitting beside her, Allison has to admit that she’s more than a little excited, too.

“You know…..” Eddie tilts his head. “The orchestra group in college has been talking about needing to have more live events.” He sounds out. “To practice. What if I see if they would like to perform?”

“That would be perfect!” Candace lights up at the table and few of the other girls nod alongside her. “Gilded Age theme, right? Maybe we can make it like classical versions of pop songs? Like they did for Bridgerton?”

“I’ll ask them.” Eddie chuckles and nods his head. “It’ll be a challenge that I think they would enjoy.”

“I’ll ask Mrs. Taylor to look out for any old boxes of party decorations from long enough ago to be an inspiration for us. If we’re lucky there will be something in the attic alongside the clothing we borrowed this week. I sort of get the feeling that most things don’t get thrown out in this house.” As always, Mrs. Taylor’s cooking is off the walls amazing and all around the table people are humming happily and enjoying their lunch as the planning picks up.

“The house is basically a museum.” Eddie snorts, sipping his double walled cup. “What could possibly give you the idea they don’t like throwing things away?” He winks at you to remind you that he’s teasing playfully.

"It's a beautiful museum." Every day you spend here, you fall more and more in love with the house. There's always new details to discover. New intricacies in the carvings, new details in the paintings, new trinkets in the cases all around the hallways. "I'm glad everything got kept. It gives it so much more character than all the brand new houses that are just painted white and made of one big room divided by furniture you're not supposed to touch."

Eddie tilts his head, watching you smile, and he thinks about how far you have come since the first time he had talked to you. Even your posture is more assertive, as if you have come into your own skin. He would believe you had been turned if it weren’t for the steady thump of your heartbeat, mixed with those of your coven.

"So when are we doing this?" Allison has her notebook, and in the front is a calendar that is just positively chock full of little notes to herself but she flips open to it anyway. "Can we actually get all of this organized by the end of the month?"

“I’ve already aired the ballroom out.” Mrs. Taylor announces, having just come back from the tower. “As far as the menu goes, you tell me what you would like and it will be done.”

“Mrs. Taylor thinks we can manage it.” And for some reason that bolsters you more than almost anything else. It just makes you wish that you had someone to dance with. “That’s good enough for me.”

“Invitations, tickets will need to be printed.” She muses. “Perhaps an ad in the paper?”

"We can hand out flyers at the farmer's market," Allison nods, glad to see the infectious excitement go around the table. "It's going to be fantastic. I can feel it."

“Since your theme is the Gilded Age, the ink should be gold leaf.” Mrs. Taylor suggests. “There is a printshop in town that Ms. Brown would use.”

"You should take Max with you and check it out." Candace's suggestion takes you off guard and your eyes must get a little wider because she immediately adds, "You know...because he's business guy. Maybe he can make a deal on pricing or something?"

"Oh! I–uh–that's actually not a bad point." You wouldn't have thought to get him involved in any of this at all, but of course Candance is right. You have no head for business and that's literally all Max does. "I'll ask...see if he has any time to spare."

“Did I hear my name?” As if on an invisible cue, Max appears in the doorway of the dining room. “Ladies, ladies, speak my name and I shall appear.” He flashes everyone a charming grin but he smirks when his eyes fall on you. “Queenie, you are looking radiant, have you been plotting?” He asks playfully before he hides the one side of his mouth facing Mrs. Taylor. “I think you can take her.” He faux whispers loudly and winks at you.

"We were working out the plans for the Samhain Masquerade," you admit, probably the only one in the room who doesn't see the way you light up at Max's little joke. And only because you're too busy hiding a small laugh.

"Join us." Candance could not possibly be grinning any more widely and immediately shuffles her chair to one side to make room next to you for Max to pull up a chair.

Max looks over the food that is on display and grimaces slightly. “I’ll sit, but I couldn’t possibly eat.”

"Have an early lunch at the office?" Eddie guesses, a slight smirk going along with his raised eyebrow. He has a much stronger stomach for human food than Max does and doesn't mind still indulging in a bloodless meal from time to time.

“Lunch with the bosses.” He agrees, patting his stomach over the vest. “So what are you thinking? Aerobatic performers? Jugglers? Fire breathing?” He waggles his brows as he smirks at the table.

"We were talking about a theme." Having him sit next to you makes you suddenly hyper aware of yourself and you take a sip of your drink. "Making it an old fashioned Gilded Age thing with classical versions of modern music, food served overnight, and elaborate masquerade costumes. Even selling tickets and donating the proceeds to charity."

“That sounds fun.” Max chuckles. “Everyone will shit themselves to get exclusive tickets.”

“And we’ll be taking a poll of every guy who buys a ticket to find one good enough for Dolly,” Tracy adds, wondering how Max would react to that idea after seeing the way he had marked you at the Mabon bonfire. They had all seen it, and all understood that you had no idea it was Max. Which only makes the whole thing more fun.

That makes the grin slide off Max's face. Just for a split second before he forces his lips to twist up out of the pout that had taken over before you could notice. He's not going to make you think that he is controlling, not with the way you react to everything. "That's a tall order." He settles for a slight grumble in his voice as he leans back in his seat.

“Newport’s a pretty decent sized town, I bet we can make it happen.” She caught the slight slip in his expression and is fucking delighted by it. None of them have ever seen Max actually care about another being and it has the few of them that talked about it convinced that he must actually be feeling things for you. “We’re going to make sure her dance card is completely full.”

"Good luck." Max snorts, crossing his arms and trying to look smug rather than worried that he might not spend any time with you. It's a feeling he doesn't like. "She's not going to enjoy the stomping of the men who think they can dance because they took lessons when they were twelve and haven't trod a dance floor since."

“Well,” Allison’s head tilts in curiosity and she affects a fully innocent expression as she shrugs her shoulders. She knows you don’t like to be the center of attention but this is developing in an interesting direction. “I suppose it would be different if our girl had a date for that night.”

It feels like Max is being led somewhere and he really doesn't like it. But the idea of you having some faceless date that might try to take advantage of you, or hurt your feelings has Max nearly snarling in anger. Body tensing beside you like he's a guard dog about to attack until he hears your heartbeat speed up beside him, anxiety flooding your scent. "That would be up to Dolly." He manages to keep his tone light, almost cheerful. "She might not want one."

“I don’t know anyone.” Your voice is quiet, not liking the fact that there seems to be an argument brewing over you in any way, shape, or form. The only two men you know here are Max and Eddie, and you would have to be blind not to see Eddie’s interest in Allison. “It—it really doesn’t matter anyway.” You insist. “It’s been a long time since I danced.”

"You should dance." Max frowns as he turns towards you, ignoring Allison the second it sounds like you are contemplating not dancing. This is your party, after all. "Do you want to dance?"

“Well…of course I do.” He knows better than anyone that dancing means everything to you. Having to give it up felt like it would kill you. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s not…I mean…I wouldn’t want anyone to feel like they had to ask me. That’s…not okay.”

He wants to roll his eyes at the stupidity of that statement, but he knows you will get upset. No one has to ask you. "You should go with me." He decides easily. "We are by far the best dancers and it's not like it would be taxing to pick you up." He jokes. "I can tell you who will stomp on your pretty dance shoes and who would be a moderately good dancer, though, not nearly as good as I am."

The entire table seems to hold its breath — half of them expecting the invitation and half taken completely aback by it. It’s not like Max Phillips has ever shown any one of them specific attention before. No. He usually hits on an entire room at once and then zeroes in on the most vulnerable. But you don’t know that side of him. You’ve never seen it. Max might be full of himself but he’s reasonably nice to you these days. He teases more than anything else, and you’re starting to learn his sense of humor. “You don’t have to do that.” You tell him, assuming he’s only asking out of pity. Out of some sense that you’re actually as pathetic as you think you are, which is absurd to everyone but you. “If you…if you want to look for someone else..I can be your backup date.” To you it seems like the best offer in the world. The most sensible and the most likely to alleviate whatever sense of duty he might feel toward you as a housemate. “It’s still weeks away. You never know what can happen.”

Max snorts and shakes his head. "I'm thinking about the competition, babe." He scoffs. "No one could keep up and it's better that the best dancers are paired together, right?" He knows he's cocky, that he's brash and the fear that you don't want to go with him strikes a cord that makes him slightly more bold than usual. "I'd rather have the best, and you're the best."

Unconsciously, your head tilts, surprise tempered with a swipe of confusion. “You’ve never even seen me dance.”

“I have.” Max responds vaguely.

“When?” The incredulous question comes out of your mouth instantly, knowing that you’ve danced maybe twice in the last year and neither time was in this house.

Online. That’s the real answer, but he doesn’t want to weird you out. Your competitions had been filmed. Instead he just shrugs and grins

“Well…” Slightly unsettled, you just shake your head and shift in your seat again. “You don’t have to decide now. I’m sure there’s someone else you’d like to take more, and you should be able to.” It hurts more than you expect, the idea that he would choose someone else over you, but you tell yourself to stop being silly. You’re nothing special. You never have been. And Max is…well, you’re starting to see how truly special he really is.

“No.” Max frowns when he hears the smattering of whispers and giggles but he doesn’t focus on that. Instead he’s looking at you. “We’re going together. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

“I want to.” It’s almost too hurried. Too enthusiastic. But once it’s out of your mouth there’s no going back.

“Then it’s settled.” Eddie says quickly. “Dolly and Max are the first couple for the masquerade.”

“Perfect.” Allison practically holds up her glass in salute. “If you wanted to, I bet we could make some pretty killer king and queen costumes out of whatever clothes Mrs. Taylor finds upstairs,” She suggests instead, having noted that Max seems to be the only one who calls you Queenie.

Max doesn't seem to get the reasoning behind that and hums thoughtfully. "If she likes it. I am easy to dress." He winks playfully. "Killer abs and all that."

“I—I really don’t need to be a queen.” You protest right away, feeling like that would be way too much look at me for one night. You’ve spent so long trying desperately to fly under the radar that you doubt you would even know how to stand out anymore. You’d end up looking like a little girl playing dress up and embarrass Max. And you definitely wouldn’t want to do that. “We’ll figure out costumes along the way.”

Max raises his brow and nods, sensing that you are not comfortable with the idea. Throwing his arm around the back of your chair, he leans in. "Just as long as we can dance, right sweetheart?" His tone is low, just meant for you.

“Right.” Just as instantly as you had become uncomfortable, that one thought soothes you, and in your gratitude you end up looking Max directly in the eyes for maybe the first time ever — there are entire worlds in his deep brown eyes and somehow this is the time you’re discovering it. At the table eating lunch with a dozen other people. “As long as we can dance,” you murmur in agreement.

******

He had spent the afternoon taking care of legitimate business. Things that he had to take care of instead of spending the rest of the day with the coven of witches like he had surprisingly wanted to do. He doesn't mind the witches, having nothing against them and finding them pretty entertaining, but he had really wanted to see you more relaxed, to see the smiles that have become more common now that you have settled in and finding your place.

The ballroom seems to call your name tonight, and you aren’t sure why. Or at least you would never admit to the reason. To say that you’ve been stuck on the thought of dancing with Max all day would feel utterly silly. To admit that you perked up at the mere mention of him while having dinner out with some of the girls from the coven makes you feel like a silly teenager. It isn’t worth it. He’s just being nice, and the last time that a guy was nice to you, you ended up in a decade-long abusive relationship with him. You’re just…you’re not the kind of person who can be in a relationship. Period. So you shouldn’t be daydreaming about it, either. Especially not mere weeks after being kicked out of Derek’s house. But you know damn well that you were emotionally done with that relationship well before the door ever closed behind you.

The thing about vampires is that they are blessed, or cursed with a keen sense of hearing. You would be mortified to know that every vampire in the house could hear you fart in your sleep. Most of them had trained themselves to block out the sounds of human prowling around again. Max couldn't, or maybe wouldn't, would be a better word. Drawn to the quiet strands of "The Blue Danube". Quickly and silently making his way to the ballroom, and to you.

You shouldn’t do it. You know you shouldn’t. Anybody could just walk in, and it’s not as though you are the type of person to show off. Or that you even could show off at this point. But you just can’t resist. The thought of dancing with someone — Max — has been in your head all day and you turn on some music on your phone to take some basic waltz steps around the ballroom all on your own.

He approaches quietly. His ears filling with the strands of the music, making his fingers twitch with the urge to join you when he sees you waltzing around the large, polished dance floor. You are grace itself, floating on air and seemingly carefree as your eyes close and the small smile on your face brightens into full joy.

A few turns around the floor with your eyes closed are all it takes to find your feet and your frame again, and in mere seconds it’s like you’re back in your first rehearsal room with your first real freedom after learning to dance. It’s a return to the easiest and most natural feeling in the world. And then, without even realizing anyone was nearby, someone steps into your frame and sweeps you up in the dance.

"Seamless." Max chuckles quietly as he enjoys the look of shock on your face. Starting to lead you through the steps as the music swells. "I knew that you would be flawless."

“Max…” Pure surprise has his name coming out in a breath of disbelief, but you don’t stop moving. He’s completely right. It was seamless. “I—I didn’t hear you come in.”

"I didn't want you to hear me." He chuckles quietly. "You were caught up in the music." His grin is wide and warm as he continues to lead you through the dance.

“It’s…been a long time.” For all your protests, you never miss a step or fail to follow a lead. Maybe your frame isn’t competition ready anymore, but Max’s hold isn’t demanding it.

"It doesn't feel like it." Max counters, moving you into a dip and smirking when you gasp before he pulls you upright again.

Ballroom dancers will tell you that when you find your perfect partner, it’s obvious. Steps feel surer and your hold feels truer. The rhythm of movement feels more natural. It’s something you had thought wistfully of someday long in the future, sort of the way you thought about your soulmate. Someday my prince will come, that sort of thing. You’re just shocked to be feeling that feeling in your gut when Max pulls you up from the dip. Like your heart has skipped a beat, but that only happens in movies and fairy tales. “I think it’s all down to a strong lead,” you manage, heaping the credit on him where you feel it’s due.

“Not from what I’ve seen.” Max tuts, backing you through the next few steps and leaning in before he pulls you back in the opposite directly. “You carried your partners before. It takes talent to lead and yet make it appear that they are leading.”

“Never managed to find my perfect partner,” you mumble, unable to shake the monumental feeling that yes you have but it’s only just now. “How have you seen me dance, Max?”

“YouTube.” He shoots you a grin, shameless now that he has danced with you. “Your competitions were beautiful and it’s amazing what you will find online now, if you know where to look.”

“I guess so.” It’s not something you ever would have thought to look into, but when you give it even a little thought it makes perfect sense. “Those were…the good days,” you admit. “The best days. Giving it up felt like it might kill me.”

“Why did you stop?” That has him extremely curious because he has seen how talented you are. Even now, every step you take is more poised and confident than the last. Dancing is so naturally in your blood that you are holding a conversation while doing it.

“Gotta grow up sometime, right?” It’s a bullshit excuse. You know it is. But what else can you say? The expression on his face says he doesn’t buy that excuse for a second and you sigh while he turns you both around the room. “My boyfriend wanted me to get a full time job,” you explain quietly. “Being home to take care of the house and make dinner every night meant there was no time for competitions or classes anymore. He— he wanted me at home.”

Max frowns, finding that to be a bunch of sexist bullshit. As much as he might have joked about having the little lady barefoot in the kitchen, normally that meant getting a snack before he fucked her silly and fed from her again. “Well, he’s an asshole.” He snorts, firming his grip on your waist. “You don’t make someone you love give up what they love.”

“It was…a bad decision all around.” As the song comes to an end, another one will begin right afterward, you just don’t know what it will be. The playlist you chose was just marked Classics. “It’s a long story. Not something you need to worry about.”

The urge to compel you is nearly overwhelming, but Max resists. Instead of commanding that you tell him, he just watches you. Letting his silence do the talking for him.

“I thought he was going to rescue me.” It comes tumbling out of your mouth when his eyes fix on yours, and you’re sure that it’s just your imagination that says he wants to know everything. “I had gotten stood up on a blind date and he—my ex— he came up to me at the bar and dried my tears and took me home…and I really thought that he was going to teach me how to grow up. But it’s obvious now how naive that is to believe.”

“Did he hurt you?” Max’s voice is soft, not wanting to scare you, even if he can’t help the darkness in his eyes. The anger that leaps to life at the thought of someone hurting someone as gentle as you are.

“I—” Yes. He did. He broke down who you were as a person and tried to reconstruct you into an automaton who would do only his bidding. And he almost succeeded. “It doesn’t matter now.” The tears that spring up in your eyes are unavoidable, and your feet stop moving with the heaviness that settles on your shoulders. “He got sick of me and kicked me out and then I came here. It’s done.”

A bad dance partner would have stepped on your feet, not able to avoid continuing despite the fact that you had stopped suddenly. Max doesn’t. He sweeps you into a hug that is encompassing. “He was a fool and you are safe here.” Max had wondered why he had wanted you here, now he wonders why he had not brought you here sooner.

It’s such an unexpected gesture, for his arms to lock tight around you, and you really almost break down sobbing right there in his arms in the middle of the ballroom. You find, though, that that isn’t the message that you want to convey to him — or at least it’s not how you want to convey the message. Your gratitude is boundless, but it boils down to just one thing. “I believe you.” Is what you murmur instead, burying your face in his chest as he holds you to him.

He stands off to the side. In a corner where it’s almost impossible to see him. Slippery as the shadows on the walls and twice as deceptive. Strong, white teeth flash in a smug smile. It was working.

The most overwhelming and surprising — well, maybe not most surprising, but it certainly surprises you at first — urge you have in your whole body is to kiss him. He’s never made a single serious motion in the way of wanting you, or being interested in you. He’s never done anything but be polite. But you’re so close to him now that you feel like closer is the only way to be and stepping apart even a little would be agony.

“Queenie…” Out of the corner of his eye, Max sees something. Head whipping up only to find a wall sconce. He had sworn he had just seen a flash of movement.

“I—I’m sorry.” He must have known what you were thinking somehow. Or you must have leaned in without realizing it. Stared at his lips accidentally. Something. But he doesn’t let you out of his arms when you start to pull away self-consciously.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Max looks back at you again. “I’m sorry. I thought I saw someone.”

“I thought…” you look to the doorway too, but there’s no one there. Not even a hint of Renee and her duster. “Thought…nevermind.”

“Thought what?” Max prompts softly, wanting to know what is going on in that pretty little head of yours. Dying of curiosity to know what you think of him.

“That you didn’t…” Your cheeks are burning hot on fire and your heartbeat is somewhere in the proximity of your eardrums rather than your chest, but you shake your head. “I thought you could tell what I was thinking. That’s why I apologized,” you admit finally, when his eyes don’t leave you for an instant.

“I could.” Max doesn’t know what you were thinking, but he’ll figure it out. “I just got distracted.”

“It doesn’t…” It doesn’t matter. It was a thought you’ve had far too many times since sitting and watching tv with him last week and he just doesn’t need to know that you’ve started dreaming about him. That’s…that’s far too much. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry.” You apologize again. If he really could tell what you were thinking then you can only assume how either disgusted or exasperated he is. But for some reason the knowledge that Max Phillips couldn’t possibly want you makes you crack apart like you’re leaving the dance studio all over again.

Max frowns slightly, not approving of the way that your eyes shutter, your shoulders seem to curl around in an effort to protect yourself. It's as bad as if you had flinched away from him, fearing that you would be hit. He slides his hand up your side and cups your cheek. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Queenie." He wants to kiss you, a feeling that he normally would act on, but he doesn't want to scare you. "When the moment is perfect." He decides, murmuring it out loud.

It’s not a rejection but it’s also not a full acceptance, and for some reason the unexpected space between the two things leaves you feeling like you’re in some sort of emotional limbo where all you can do is nod against his hand and try not to look too wistful at the gesture itself. It’s just wishful thinking that has you feeling like you never want him to let you go. At least, that’s what you’re going to keep telling yourself.

There’s a pregnant pause, a feeling in the air that makes Max lean in. Feeling that the moment is now. That he needs to get this urge to kiss you out of his system. Watching you to see if you pull away or panic fills your eyes when the front door opens. Startling him because he had been so entranced by you, he hadn’t heard anyone approaching.

Jumping away from him like a frightened children’s film or cartoon character, your whole face and body are on fire for so many different reasons but you bury your face in both hands and stammer out another vague apology before looking to the stairwell with frozen fear. “Eddie!” His name is a squeak in your voice and nothing more.

Eddie is there in an instant, obviously worried that Max had done something from the look the other vampire shoots him. Making Max narrow his eyes and huff at the assumption. The song fades and the silence in the ballroom settles awkwardly. “Dolly?” Eddie reaches for you. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” He has awful timing, that’s all. But you’re not even sure that Max was going to kiss you. You could have been imagining it. “I—I think I’m going to grab a book from the library and turn in. Good night.” You announce, snatching up your phone and hightailing it to the library as fast as your legs will carry you.

Max huffs at Eddie. “Thanks asshole.” He grunts, rushing off towards the balcony doors that lead out to the gardens.

“What?” Eddie shrugs in complete confusion as you and Max both flee from the room.

******

Heading through the marble hall and into the library, you scoop the first edition copy of Rudyard Kipling’s Rewards and Fairies off the shelf where you left it that morning. It will make for good bedtime reading now that you’ve gone through both books you were reading previously. Quick as a mouse and just as quiet, you rush upstairs to your room with every intention of just locking yourself inside for the night. But there, sitting and chirping on your windowsill, is your little bat friend.

As soon as he had cleared the doors, Max had transformed. Not wanting you to run away from him, but he’s also found that you find comfort in his bat form. It’s interesting considering most are afraid of bats, but you pet him, snuggle him, and talk to him. He flaps his wings impatiently, telling you to open the window to let him in.

“Hey, Cutie.” It’s such a relief to see this little friendly face that what you once just called the bat as a descriptor has now become his name. Cutie is now featured in any number of bat things around your room, like little sketches tucked into the corners of your vanity mirror and the embroidered pillow that you brought home early on. You go to the window to let him in knowing that he will hop right into your hand, and leave one window cracked for him to leave by when he eventually wants to. It’s chilly, but you’re not going to trap the little guy inside the house. That would be cruel. “Were you waiting for me?” You croon, sniffing back tears of anxiety and instead focusing on petting his little head to soothe yourself.

Max chirps, acknowledging that he had been waiting for you, just not as long as you might think. He nuzzles into your hand for a moment before he shoots out of your hand, crawling up your arm and chest to curl into your neck.

“Awwe, I’m sorry I kept you waiting, Cutie.” The feeling of being hugged is as real and undeniable as being hugged by Max just a minute ago and you sniffle again before continuing to scratch the bat’s head. “Please don’t be upset with me…” Though how the little animal could show it, you don’t know. This bat is more expressive than any other creature you’ve ever known. “I…got caught up dancing. Haven’t done that in a long time.” A soft sigh escapes you and you peak down at the bat’s expression of curiosity. “Lemme put on my pajamas and I’ll read to you, okay? You seem to like that.”

Max wants to watch you undress, but even he isn’t that unethical. So he flutters off your shoulder to the chair where you sit every night he comes, reading to him. Landing on the arm rest and fluttering his wings as he folds them up, chattering at you.

It isn’t so much changing as just stripping down a few layers to your tank top, and you replace your jeans with flannel pj pants. You come out of your dressing room far more relaxed and pick up the Kipling from the side table before coming over to the chaise. “You want your nest, Cutie?” Sometimes he likes to curl up in your lap and sometimes he likes to be snuggled against you, but either way you plop down on the chaise and grab your ballet slipper throw blanket to tuck around you.

Max waits until the blanket is on your lap, hopping right into it and looking up at you. He knows you have a soft spot for this version of him, so he plays it up, cooing at you.

“Here we go.” Fixing the blanket so it’s slung over one of your shoulders gives him a cozy place to settle near your collarbone, and you could swear that the little bay must like the vibration of your voice or something because he loves to perch there. “I got us some Kipling tonight,” you tell him, feeling more relaxed by the second. “A little something different than the gothic novels I’ve been reading you.”

Max chirps again, surprised that you are in your pajamas. It’s the most amount of skin that he has ever seen on you. He decides that he will make a lap around you, get the full effect of your comfortable clothing.

“Is that an excited chirp or a chirp of protest?” Either way it makes you laugh. Just a quiet, half-huffed sound, and you open the book in your lap while Cutie takes off around your chair. He seems excitable tonight and maybe you need that. A little positive energy before bed.

You’re beautiful. He’s popping the equivalent of a bat boner from the innocent scene, unsure why you are so irresistible to him. You’re pretty and kind, but so are other women who don’t affect him as badly. Max takes another lap and damn near falls out of the sky when he sees it. Discolored skin, in an unusual grouping. A birthmark. Screeching wildly, Max dive bombs your arm to make sure he’s not seeing things. But it’s there. The matching mark that has been the only blemish on his skin since he had been brought back by his sire. You’re his fucking soulmate.

“You okay, Cutie?” He’s never lost his balance in the air like that and suddenly you’re worried there’s something wrong with the little bat’s wing. Twisting around and scooping him out of the air, you take a careful look at both appendages and don’t see anything wrong.

Those big eyes bug out even more and he squawks as if you could hear him. Soulmate. You. You’re his soulmate. There’s zero doubt in his mind that he knew that. And the fact that he kept it from Max infuriates him. But it also explains why Max was kept here. How long had he known? All of these things run through Max’s mind as he flaps his way out of your hold and immediately crawls his way up your arm to stare at your birthmark again.

"Alright, alright, if you want to hang out back there, you go right ahead." It's a weird choice, but you're the one talking to a fucking bat so who are you to judge? You just let the little guy curl up behind your shoulder and open your book to start reading. The ritual is something that you've started to find immensely soothing so you're going to appreciate every second of it tonight, while thoughts of Max still race through your head. Unshakeable and unwavering.

Just to make sure he’s not insane and it’s not some makeup covering some tattoo or whatever, his little bat tongue comes out to lick at your skin.

"What are you doing?" You twist to look at the bat over your shoulder quizzically. "Not like you can answer me, can you? It's just a birthmark, Cutie. Nothing to be confused about."

Max looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours and his tongue swipe your skin again. Convinced it’s not makeup causing the discoloration.

“What is up with you, huh?” The book goes down to your lap again and you frown a little at the winged ‘pet’. He’s never licked you or anything before. Just nuzzles and chirps or squeaks while he cuddles into you. This is all new.

Max pulls his tongue back into his mouth and climbs up your shoulder, nuzzling your cheek and chirping again. Unable to vocalize the issue, but he doesn’t want you to shoo him off.

"How about I just cover up, then." He climbs back up on your shoulder and you pull the blanket around you, covering the little star-shaped set of marks on your skin that make up your birthmark. It must confuse his little bat mind or something. That's the only explanation you can come up with. "It's just some marks on my skin, that's all." You explain, rather uselessly. After all, what does the bat care? "My skin and no one else's. I used to have tattoos, too. But...well, the person that gave them to me is gone now. So I don't have them anymore."

Max flaps his wings, squawking indignantly. He’s right here. He wonders why he wasn’t allowed to have his tattoo put back. Some kind of punishment?

“You wanna be my soulmate?” Bats don’t have soulmates. Not that you’re aware of. Just humans, some species of monkeys, and some people think that dogs and cats do but that’s just wishful thinking. But then, what is this if not wishful thinking? Talking to a bat is as wishful as it gets. “Okay, Cutie. You can be my new soulmate. Since you’re a little bit spooky and like being read to, I think it’s perfect.”

If he could preen, Bat Max would. Your words soothes him instantly and he cuddles against your pulse, cooing and almost purring happily. You accept his bat form, and that’s half the battle in his mind.

"Yeah?" You giggle softly, glad for the now familiar feeling of the small winged creature cuddling against your chest. "Is that all you wanted? Just my never ending love and devotion?" This laugh is slightly more hollow, and you pet his little head with two fingers as you pick your book up again. "Somebody might as well have it. I don't think I trust myself to actually give it to a human anymore."

Max blows out a breath, actually needing to breath as a bat, funnily enough. He hates the idea that you are so hurt that you wouldn’t trust and love again. You’re too sweet to put yourself on a shelf.

"Just you and me, Cutie." You murmur softly. "That's all I need." Maybe. Just maybe. If you say it enough, it will be true one day. Unfortunately for your heart, though, it's already given itself away. And denying it won't do a single ounce of good.

Max listens to the sadness in your voice, still freaking out because you’re his soulmate and he can’t tell you. How would he explain himself? You aren’t to know that the residents of this house are vampires. On his orders. How would he explain that he has no marks? They disappeared four years ago when he was staked through the heart and turned into a blood splatter on the wall. The only reason he’s here now is because his sire, somehow your relative, took pity on him.

Reading is calming and before long you're yawning between paragraphs and curling deeper into your blanket. When you're on the verge of drifting off you stifle another long yawn and rub two fingers along your little bat friend's head. "I'm glad you came to say hello tonight," you tell the little creature, right before your eyes shut.

Max chirps softly, listening to your heartbeat slow down. Waiting until you are asleep before he moves. Changing back to a human form and watching you. Staring at you in awe, not hearing someone else approach.

He watches as his protégé stares at you. A smile curving his lips and exposing the pointed fangs. He senses the turbulent emotions in the younger man, able to sense what he is feeling since he created him. Linked in an inextricable way. He had hoped to visit you tonight, but he sinks back into the shadows with glee. You are already entertaining it seems.

******

Deciding that it is time for a conversation - not the one Max will want, but the one he will get for now – he disappears back downstairs and settles himself in the kitchen, knowing that Max has a tendency to go for a 'midnight snack' glass of blood before turning in for the night. Sleep is not necessary the way it is for humans, but rest helps to keep vampires strong. And Max is using quite a bit of stamina every night to transform in and out of bat form.

Max whistles as he comes in the kitchen, trying to put on an air of nonchalance as he grapples with the very real knowledge that his soulmate has been discovered. He had watched you for far too long, unable to move until you had shivered in your sleep. Picking you up and carrying you over to your bed as if you were no heavier than a feather, Max had tucked you into bed again. Closing the window like he had before and slipping out of the door to come down to the kitchen. Every step he had been taking away from you being one he was forcing himself to make.

His tendency toward dramatics is well documented, especially by those closest to him, so for him to be lounging in the pitch black kitchen when Max comes in and flicks on the light out of deeply ingrained habit? Well, it should surprise no one. The skies outside have torn open and the midnight rain is torrential, making the scene all the more delightfully gothic as rain pelts the kitchen windows across the room.

“Fucking shit.” Max isn’t afraid of much, but the sight of him appearing has the younger vampire jumping slightly, his dead heart nearly leaping to life in his chest. Relaxing slightly before he remembers. “Why are you here?”

“Business.” He answers, languidly rolling the word over in his tongue and drawing out the hissing sound of the last syllable. “Amongst other reasons.” There are already two glasses of blood poured and he gestures to the other side of the kitchen table for Max to join him.

Max snorts and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t refuse the invitation from his maker. “And does ‘other reasons’ include the human upstairs?”

“She seems to be settling in.” While it’s an observation instead of an actual answer, the older vampire shrugs one shoulder gracefully.

Frustrating, that is what the old man is. Hissing slightly, Max remembers that he also enjoys getting a rise out of people, so he leans back and picks up the glass of blood. “New pet?” He asks.

While he won’t give Max the satisfaction of a sharp reaction, he does set his glass down and let his eyes sweep over the younger vampire appraisingly. “As I understand it, she is the one keeping a pet. Not me.” He’s seen it with his own eyes. And while it’s unexpectedly charming, it certainly does represent a communication issue. “Or is ‘Cutie’ a different resident bat that I’ve not met before?”

It’s only because of the fresh blood that max has ingested that allows the flush to rise up under his skin. “She doesn’t know it’s any different from a regular bat.” He defends himself. How he knows about that, Max doesn’t know, but he always seems to know things he shouldn’t. As far as he knows, no one else in the house knows about his nearly nightly routine.

“She will eventually.” There’s spice in this blood. Something warm and tingling. Mrs. Taylor always somehow manages to provide the best of the best for him and he’s grateful to have had her for the last several hundred years. “One day she’ll know everything.”

“How long have you known?” That is the question that is burning under his skin. He doesn’t elaborate, knowing the elder understands what he is referring to.

“That she exists?” He is evasive by nature. Always has been. And he waves off the question with ease. “Her whole life.”

Max rolls his eyes again, obviously he should have been more specific. “That I am her soulmate?” He clarifies tightly.

“Oh?” One eyebrow quirks up in interest and he takes another sip of blood. “If that were true it would be a most interesting state of being. For you, of course. Entirely inconsequential to others.”

Max frowns, staring at the man who had changed him in college. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That I firmly doubt the soulmate status of one infant vampire will matter much to the general population of mortals in the world.” The immortals, he knows, will take a great interest. They did the last time a vampire and witch were soulmates and they will take an even greater interest this time.

Max takes a sip of his blood. “Stimulating conversation, as always.”

Amused, his sire almost smiles but just the ghost of the expression makes it to his lips. “Ask the correct question and I will gladly answer.”

It’s always a game with him. “What is she to you?” Max demands, leaning forward and his eyes are darker than they should be, directed at his sire.

It isn’t the right question, but it is an important one. One that he isn’t quite ready to answer in full, but he swallows and lets his eyes close for a brief moment. “Now that Cookie is gone, she is everything to me.” It is an honest answer, if not a whole one. And certainly more than he would have given Max at any other time.

Max sighs, aware that he’s not going to get the answers he wants from the older vampire. “What’s the correct question, then?” He huffs. “Since you want to play your little games.”

“What is it you truly want to know, Maxwell?” He tilts his head in curiosity, wondering what the most important question is to his protégé’s beatless heart. The correct question is the one that matters the most — Max has not learned that lesson quite yet.

Max growls, increasingly frustrated and sure he’s not going to get an answer to his question. His maker is some kind of mood and it is impossible when he is like this. “Is she the reason I’m here?” He asks.

“Yes.” Although the question might give Max complicated feelings, his sire’s answer is simple. There is no other possible answer, in fact. “She is the reason for much.”

“Fuck.” Max is aware that the program that he was selected for was very high stakes, pun intended. Most humans were eaten. “Is she-“ he stops, wondering if he really wants to know this. “Is my connection with her the reason I was changed?”

“Partially.” After another sip of blood, his sire chuckles at the purses frown on Max’s face. “You were always going to graduate the program, Maxwell. But she is the reason that I am your sire and not a lesser vampire.”

“Because she’s somehow related to your soulmate?” He still doesn’t know the relation, but that’s because he’s never cared to ask. Not that Mrs. Taylor would spill if he didn’t wish for Max to know.

“Now you’re getting it.” The intention was never to keep the entire truth from Max. Never. But to tell him before telling you? He may be unscrupulous, but he is not uncaring.

“Why does one distant relative matter so much?” Max asks, frowning again. Since his own family turned their back on him, he’s hardened himself against that sort of connection.

“Have you ever known me to be careless in my decisions?” The honest question is not meant to be a trick, but it is meant to make Max think. “Have I not kept my family as close as I am able? And the families of those I have sired?” It may also be ever so slightly evasive, but he will not apologize for that just yet.

One thing Max can say for sure is that he is not careless. But it brings up another question. “Then why have you not brought her here sooner?” He huffs. “She’s been abused, that much is obvious.”

Shame is not a thing most creatures like to feel, and he likes it even less than most. But unfortunately shame is what he must endure, and for once he lets his protégé see the emotion in his face when he finds the younger man’s eyes. “I tried everything in my power to find her before now, but I was prevented. Kept from her. And I will never let such a thing happen again. Not for all the days I roam the endless earth. It is our duty now, to protect her. Yours and mine.”

Max bites his lip and nods. “I don’t know what she thinks of me.” He admits. “She’s more comfortable around the bat than the man. It’s- I’m drawn to her, now I know why.”

“She seemed quite fond of dancing with you.” Which is no small thing, and brings a smile unburdened to his lips. The fluffy pink tutu, tights, and shoes he had bought for an eager four-year-old spring to mind immediately. “Perhaps she ought to be trusted with the truth. That the bat and the man are one.”

Max huffs out a laugh. “And how should I do that?” He asks jokingly. “Just transform in front of her? She doesn’t believe vampires are real.”

A sigh overtakes him. Weary and far more emotional than he would normally let on, but your disbelief at the existence of vampires hurts more than he can possibly say. “She knows, in her soul. In her heart. But her mind has been bound from believing it.”

Max frowns slightly and rubs his tongue over his teeth. “It sounds like you believe she was supposed to be raised in this world.”

“Because she was.” A flash of anger in his eyes has to be tamped down before he says more than he should, but the point is firm. “She was born to it. She belongs here.”

“Okaaaaaay.” Max’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the passionate answer. Sometimes it seemed like Cookie was the only thing the older vampire cared about. Obviously you are just as important, though the connection is still vague. “It’s not like she’s your daughter or something.”

His sire huffs, burying anger and sadness back under mystery where they belong, and shakes his head. “A witch and a vampire having a child? What a fantastical thought.” His tone has turned droll under the guise of heaviness. “That would be the stuff of Legend if it were true.”

Max snorts and sends him a small smirk. “As if you aren’t already a legend.”

“Am I?” That flash of mystery and amusement graces his features and Max’s sire sits back in his chair. “I had nearly forgotten.”

It’s not like he had bragged about it. Max had to learn of his sire’s exploits through the rumor mill that seems to power a college. Even a vamp one. He wasn’t one to boast or rest on his laurels apparently. Max hadn’t known how great the honor of him being his sire was until he was nearly graduated. And just now, he’s learning the reason why he had turned him. “Aren’t you?” Max asks, taking another sip of the warm blood. “Maybe not.”

“If you want to bait someone, Maxwell, go find Eddie and tell him flannel has gone out of fashion.” He chuckles at his own joke, taking the last sip of blood from his goblet. “Understand fully, though, before you leave me tonight. That Dolly is of the utmost importance. She is the only priority that matters.”

The weight of his words settle on Max and he bites his lip before he voices the concern. “Should I- would you prefer that I leave her alone?” He asks, unsure of why he would be giving such an obvious warning.

“If that was my wish, you would never have known she existed.” His sire tells him honestly. “You would not have be among those I deemed worthy of eternal life, and you certainly would not have been brought back after that stunt four years ago.” He shakes his head, wishing now for wine more than blood. Something to temper the emotional rollercoaster he has been on since you were finally located weeks ago. “You have been brought here for her, Maxwell. Endeavor to be worthy of that honour.”

“I don’t think she wants romantic entanglements.” Max admits. “She’s - skittish and I’m….” He trails off and shrugs. With his sire, it’s a lot easier to admit shortcomings. “Not.”

“But it is what you want?” Knowing Max as he does, it takes a great deal of willpower for his sire not to play on Max’s usual cocky side. This is too important for that anyway.

“I-“ Max stops, unsure of how to answer that. He wants you, but he also knows that you aren’t ready for something like that. It’s why he had spent so much time as the bat lately. “For her to be happy.” He decides. How that happiness looks is up to you. He’s already been selfish and he’s paid too high a price to chance it again.

“Good.” There may not have technically been a correct question to ask earlier, but there was certainly a correct answer to this one, and Max has hit on it. “You will tell her the truth soon. She’s made of stronger stuff than whatever she’s been through.”

It sounds like an order, but Max nods. “I hope you are right.” He tells the vampire who had turned him into what he is now. “Otherwise, we ruin the only safe place she has.”

“It is all the stronger for having us in it.” He reminds the younger vampire. “In the meantime, not a word to Eddie or anyone else. Only Mrs. Taylor knows I’ve arrived.”

His brow lifts again, but he doesn’t say a word about it. “Then back to the tower with you.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie

VW: @haileymorelikestupid, @miraclesabound @nastiasnow @vabeachazn @oberynslady @grogusmum @kittenlittle24 @guelyury @8-900 @survivingandenduring

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Eddie BtVS #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate sunday #crossover fic #tw past abuse

168 notes · View notes

propertyofhenrywinter · 8 months

Text

Long live all the mountains we moved

Max Verstappen x driver!reader

Summary: the aftermath of a crash equals more hurt comfort (can be read as a second part to Long live the walls we crashed through, but also on its own. This ofc isn’t proofread)

WC: 3.2k

Max knew you would be cross with him is you knew he was blaming himself, but he just really felt the need to whelm in his self-pity for a while. For a second he justified this by thinking that you would feel the same if the roles where reversed. That thought however was soon discarded because he knew that if it had been him getting hurt on track you would’ve stood your ground firmer and insisted he’d get checked out. ‘It really is my fault,’ he thought. ‘It is my job to protect her. I should have listened to my gut.’

If max was honest with himself, he had realized something was wrong. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint what, but something in the way you had caried yourself while talking to the team and other drivers made him feel uneasy. By the time you had chatted with everyone who had wanted to see were okay with their own eyes none of them had thought to have a medic make sure you were completely fine. He didn’t understand their exact reasoning, maybe it had just slipped their mind or maybe they had genuinely believed you were fine, but he had thought about it almost immediately after he had let you go from his side, and he hadn’t stopped think about it while you had been driving away from the track. Now he wished he would’ve been more persistent about bringing you to a hospital, because he had known well enough that you weren’t fine, no matter how hard you had tried to convince him otherwise.

“I just want to go home, Max. Please.” You looked at him pleading and your voice sounded defeated. “I want to take a shower with you, just a shower,” a pointed look was added, “and then I want to cuddle up with you in bed while watching one of my comfort movies and eat ice cream right out the tub. And then fall asleep before the movie ends. And tomorrow we will do the same thing or maybe you could read a bit to me if I’m feeling to soar to do it myself,” she rattled off. “If your feeling soar you should see a doctor,” Max responded sharply, but he had known that the matter was settled and you two would do exactly as you had said.

Of course, it hadn’t gone as you planned. Max had already noticed you had looked worse when you got home than you had at the track, but he shrugged it off, thinking you were probably just tired, and your body need some rest after undergoing the G-forces it did during the crash. By the time you two had made your way to the bathroom he noticed you really weren’t walk normally. “Love,” he started soft, trying one last time to talk some sense into you. “No, please, Max,” you had sounded so breakable with your voice no louder than a whisper. It broke him to see you hurt, so he had let it go although he knew he shouldn’t have.

All hell broke lose when you had tried to take your shirt off. You had only wanted to lift your arm over your head before you had crumbled to the ground, letting out a blood-curdling scream. Max had been next to you in less than a second. He had been trying to figure out what was wrong precisely, but when he had noticed you were on the verge of unconsciousness he had just scooped you up in his arms and put you in his car to speed off to the hospital.

He had no regard for the traffic rules on his way, and although he had thought of calling an ambulance he had known that that would take way longer. While you were drifting in and out of consciousness he thought that he should talk to you. Tell you something encouraging maybe, but he just couldn't bring himself to open his mouth, afraid that any sound but the roaring of the engine and the struggle of your breath would make all of this too real.

When the hospital was less than two minutes away you awoke once again, but instead of the almost inaudible wail of pain he expected to hear again, this time you started coughing like crazy. Max had sworn his heart stopped when he saw you were coughing up blood.

The bright lights in the hospital made the contrast between the dark roads outside even more striking. In the car it had been quiet, just you and him. At the hospital it had been bustling with sounds and people, and you had been ripped out of his arms almost the second he walked trough the double swing doors. In a way he was sad he had reached the hospital, because as long as you were driving he could tell himself that he was doing what he could, while also having you at arm’s length next to him.

As soon as you were pried away by the emergency room staff members a doctor had started asking him more questions than he had believed could be necessary. He had answered them in a haze and before he good and well realized it the doctor had disappeared into the operation room where he had been told you also would be. That’s how he found himself sitting in a waiting area a nurse with dark skin, but light hair had brought him to. There he sat spiralling down in his own guilt.

He doesn’t know how long he sat there when the doctor who had asked him all those questions walked up to him. ‘How is she,’ he almost heard himself ask it, but he couldn’t’ bring himself to actually form the words, too afraid of what the answer might be. Before the silence reached a significant amount of time he heard the doctor. “Your partner will be alright, Mr. Verstappen. I assume her rib was fractured during the crash and when she tried to lift her arm a splinter moved and punctured her lung causing the worst of the damage she suffers. We fixed that during the operation. We also ran a full body x-ray and constated she also broke her left wrist and fibula and of course two of her ribs.” Max listened to the long list of injuries and despite the feeling of despair for your hurt he wondered just how stubborn you had to be not to get check by a medic, because he knew that all those breaks must have been hurting every time you moved. That was before the doctor saw the confusion in is eyes and added: ‘I also assume that an extreme amount of adrenaline was released right before and after the crash. That would explain why she hadn’t felt anything before her rib moved.” After that was clarified only one question rested him: “When can I see her?”

On his way to your room doctor questions, as Max had been calling him in his head, explained that you were still asleep and probably would be for the next hours, maybe even a full day, but that once you were awake and had done a couple of simple short test you would be allowed to go home quickly. “I don’t expect her to have to stay more than two full days,” he had concluded.

When he entered the room it felt like his long got puncture as well, seeing you so pale in bed with your foot and arm in a cast and a bag with clear liquid attached to your arm with an IV. He looked at the clock and saw it was almost morning. He wondered just how long it would take you to open your eyes, because he doesn’t want to wait a full day.

A nurse, an older woman with grey hair this time, came in to check your vitals and also informed Max that he was allowed to stay with you. Once she left he felt in his pocket to see if he had brought his phone with him. To his delight he had. He opened it so he could start informing everyone who needed to know, but the moment his screen lit up he could see he had a ton of missed calls and messages. It took him a while to figure out what was going on, but when he opened a text message from Charles it became clear. Turns out someone had seen him speeding down the streets to the hospital. Max felt a sliver of relieve when he saw your face wasn’t visible in any of the pictures of his car or when he was carrying you inside, but that didn’t change the fact it was disgusting people took and shared those pictures or that it was clear it was you. Some trashy news sites had even already wrote articles. He didn’t bother opening them. There was probably nothing true in them anyway.

He responded to Charles, explaining what had happened. Afterwards he simply copied and pasted that text and send it to everyone who he felt deserved to know. Almost exactly when he was finished his phone rang. It was Charles. Max contemplated picking up, but ultimately decided that since he would be stuck here for a while it couldn’t hurt to hear him out before he returned to the bottom of the mental ditch he had been digging himself in the waiting room.

If Max had thought the doctor had asked him a lot of questions, Charles must have simply impressed him by how long his list was. The Dutchman was tired mentally and physically, so he didn’t put up a fight answering him. Only when the questions were about how he was doing he resorted to one-word answers. Without giving Max a chance to protest, and he really wanted to protest, he had decided he was going to call the hospital to see when visiting hours were and come over as soon as he could.

He didn’t have to wait to long before the man who he had had on the phone only a few hours ago strode into the room as if he was coming to visit them to celebrate a birthday. Much to his dismay Charles seemed to have brought half of all the people he knew. “The more the merrier,” Charles had exclaimed a little to cheery. “It’s a hospital it’s not supposed to be ‘merry,’” Max growled.

He won’t ever admit it, but it helped that there were a lot of people around. Firstly, because that meant he could be mad at them instead of himself and secondly because it distracted him from your seemingly lifeless body in the bed, although you had regained a little colour since he first walked in. Out of everyone he might have been most grateful for George’s presence. He definitely didn’t think that would be the case, but because it was clear that he was blaming himself as well it gave Max the feeling there was someone who understood, even though only a little, what he was going through. They didn’t dare to look at each other the first half hour or so they were in the room together, but once they did see the looks on each other’s faces they grew compassionate towards the other and Max realized casting blame was stupid and so it became a little easier to forgive himself.

People left at various time and to Max’ surprise there were also people who came in, apparently Charles has informed the whole entire world about when and where they had to be to visit you. He wondered how so many people could fit inside such a tiny room and how the hospital even allowed this many visitors.

Considering max hadn’t slept for too long, something else you could berate him for once you woke up, he was pretty glad when visitor hours came to an end and the people in the hospital room started to make themselves scarce. Right when Charles was saying his goodbyes a thought crossed max’ mind. “Could you maybe go to our place and check if I closed the door properly? I left in such a rush, and I don’t remember pulling it shut,” he asked the Monegasque. “Yes, of course. I’ll text you, okay?” To which Max simply responded with a thank you, and for the first time since the hole roller-coaster of events took place he allowed himself to worry about other things than you. He hoped nobody broke in if he left the door open, but that was unlikely considering the whole building had strict security. He hated to admit is but what he actually had wanted to ask Charles was to check on his cats. You would be furious if anything had happened to them, and he really didn’t need anther reason added to the list of things he did that he knew would piss you off.

His eyes and mind returned to you, and he was thankful that you hadn’t woken up while all the people were there. He much rather had you open your eyes to only him and a calm, silent room. You had given a few signs you were closer to consciousness while your friends were here. Things like slightly moving a finger or a squint in an eyelid. He was pretty sure no one else noticed these things, probably because they simply weren’t playing attention to them. However, it had almost been 24 hours and you really should be waking up, which made him worry something was wrong. In the end his tiredness won from the worry, and he dosed off sitting in a position that would make his neck hurt more than the nastiest turns in F1 could under the highest possible G-forces.

He might have fallen asleep, but he wasn’t asleep deep, and so the quietest “Max” ever spoken is what woke him up. When he opened his eyes they were immediately staring into yours. “Hey,” he said as he moved closer to you, “you gave me quite the scare.” He put his hand on the side of your face and his thumb started stroking your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “It’s all good now,” Max replied and before he could help himself he added: “I love you.” “I love you too.” The reply came natural to you. Sooner than he wanted the older nurse came back, and when she saw you were awake she went to get the doctor.

While you were out doing all sorts of tests and scans Max waited in your room. His phone screen lit up alerting him that someone texted him. ‘Door was open, but everything seems ok.’ Immediately a second message followed, ‘Also fed the cats theyre mad you guys left them I think.’ He had added a picture of the animals.

Once your bed was wheeled back into the room the doctor explained to you both how the next few weeks would look for you. It started with the endless list of check-ups you would have to go to and ended with the most dreadful news you had ever hurt. “No physical demanding activities for at least six weeks, so no sporting, don’t go long distances on foot and try to avoid stairs.” For the only time ever Max was glad about your bedridden state because he knew that you would have fought the doctor for keeping you from racing if you could. The look on your face however probably also made him wish he could crawl away into the nearest closet.

After this little briefing you were allowed to go home. You believed Max was happier about this than you were because Max had been there for almost two days. So had you but you couldn’t really remember anything between enter the bathroom and waking up at the hospital. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for whatever stupid reason you are,” you said to your boyfriend when you saw how tight he was clamping the steering wheel. “I’m no,” he responded, “I mean, I did at first, but not anymore.” “Good,” you sight, “than why are you driving like that?” you added with an over-the-top judgemental tone. “Like what,” he retorted fake offended. “Like that steering wheel is the root of all your problems.” He relaxed his hands “Not all of them but there probably are waiting some fines in our mailbox from our trip to the hospital.” You exaggerated a sigh “It’s a shame not everyone is as good a driver as I am.” Max gave you a side-eye. “you’re lucky that crash wasn’t your fault, because I would have held that over your head eventually.” You gasped “You brute.” But secretly you enjoyed that the topic didn’t weigh to heavy between you two. “Also,” Max continued, “remind me who was leading that race again before George so rudely interrupted it?” You supressed a giggle “Oh, I don’t pay attention to that sort of things. All people care about is who is first in the driver standings.”

Suddenly it hit you; six weeks of no racing meant you would lose your first place, enormously diminishing your chances of winning your first championship. Max noticed the mood change and he could guess what this was about “Look there are only three races in those weeks, and the last one is even all the way at the end of your recovery period. We might convince the doctor to let you participate in that one if you recover well. The only way that’s going to happen is if you don’t spend to much time worrying that pretty head of yours and actually relax. Am I clear?” he looked at you while asking that. “Yes,” you said surely. “And also,” he continued, “it will make our fight for the title even more entertaining.” This time you really let out a giggle, which made you wince due to your soar ribs. “We are the Katniss and Peeta of the racing world.” You spoke. “Who?” Max asked. “Max, please say your joking,” you said, shocked by this discovery, “you don’t know the Hunger Games?” your moth almost hung agape. “Of course, I know of the Hunger Hames,” he said sharply, “I’ve just never watched it.” You decided this was unacceptable and you were going binge-watch all the movies when you were home, witch you were while you ended your scolding to your uneducated boyfriend who had been amused, but more relieved, by how lively you were acting. As you entered the elevator Max finally got a chance to speak. “If I remember correctly there was a showered planned before or movie in bed.” You hadn’t thought about it but suddenly you felt dirty. You hadn’t showered after the race which was two days ago. Suddenly you felt relieved there was no one else in the elevator to smell the odour you and Max, who you assumed also hadn’t showered, were spreading. “A shower is probably a good idea for both of us,” you concluded. Max looked at you and it was clear what he was thinking about. “No Max, remember no physical demanding activities for six weeks,” you laughed.

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff

391 notes · View notes

theerurishipper · 6 months

Text

Welcome to me watching the Paris special, this time with commentary! I watched the special and wrote down everything here as I watched it and forgot to post it cause I'm a dumbass. Also, this is long asf, in fact, it's so long that I had to make a Part 2.

Okay here goes!

Ah, the Gabriel version of the theme. This really took me by surprise. It's fire tho.

Straight into the action, I like it.

Max and Markov aren't different people in this?

That's some entrance from Shady and Claw, really ups the stakes. Makes you wonder why Nino tried to fight them with a nerf gun.

Ubiquity is so pretty.

I might be the only one who liked the Gabe scene we got.

Feeling some nostalgia for the candy cane cosplay ngl.

And we get a good scene with Adrien and Plagg. I liked the advice Plagg gave about how not all destruction is bad. Neat.

Some Alya and Marinette. Marinette is going through some tough times and is in need of support, and Tikki takes this opportunity to escape from her and steal macaroons. No hate tho, you do you Tikki.

Though she does react to the people of Paris cheering for Ladybug. That was sweet.

Alya turns into Ubiquity, and then we get... Betterfly.

Betterfly? Seriously? Coulda just gone with Hesperia.

"I'm not sure there's anything to hope for from Ladybug." My poor baby!

Love the look of absolute confusion on Alya's face.

Hesperia's confusion about his evil counterpart is really funny ngl.

SHADYBUG

"There, you can have your boyfriend back~" love the delivery on that line lmao.

But also, CLAW NOIR

Not her just stealing his belt immediately.

Marinette hates Adrien Agreste. This truly is the reverse world.

But also, I love Claw Noir pretending to be his own fan to impress Shadybug.

Claw Noir sure does love using that Cataclysm.

For someone who just woke up to see her friend gone and a hole in the wall, Alya collected herself pretty damn quick. I would be freaking the fuck out in her position. Just another reason she's the best.

RIP Alya's phone. Gabe really did a number on you.

Shadybug makes a butterfly tracker, proving that she ain't no Gabe.

Hesperia is befuddled by our world, Part 2.

It's always gotta be the Eiffel Tower, doesn't it.

Claw Noir's pulling a Chat Blanc?? Hello??

Hesperia (I'm not gonna call him Betterfly) is apparently a gentleman. It's almost disturbing after 5 seasons of Gabe being the worst piece of shit to grace our screens.

I guess no matter the universe and moral alignment, it's Gabriel's fate to get beaten up by teenagers.

Not Tikki loredumping about parallel universes right now lmao

Times like this remind me that Tikki is, for all intents and purposes, a god.

"You'd die before I could ever explain all this to you," is actually a pretty valid (and disturbingly hilarious) justification for not having bothered to bring any of this up before.

The Supreme is someone I'd like to learn more about. I've narrowed the suspects down to either Fu or Su-Han. Watch it be Lila instead if we ever get that info.

I feel like the info about the timers is something we should have gotten way, way earlier. Like, a few seasons ago.

Ladybug's triumphant entrance!

"Whatever, pest." Queen.

I love Claw Noir's staff.

Shadybug took no prisoners at all.

CHAT NOIR

Destruction vibes, and right after that incident too.

Claw Noir is unhinged.

Claw Noir just fucking cataclysmed himself??? Guess Adrien is always gonna be self-destructive in every universe huh?

Welp, looks like Chat Noir is officially re-traumatized.

I want y'all to remember that this boy went through the whole special with a cataclysm wound on his person and did not falter once. Mad respect.

Chat Noir got tossed. Chat Blanc call back number 2.

Obsessed with the way Bryce Papenbrook pronounces "cockroach."

Finally, a villain who actually gets rid of the Lucky Charm. Hawkie, take notes.

"Who the cat are you?"

So Shadybug can create whatever Lucky Charm she wants, huh?

Someone's been listening to the fandom.

Not the time freezing lmfao

I don't like that Gabe is turning Adrien into an angel, even if this is a good version. Anyway, Chat Blanc call back 3.

"Kitty catty" "Later loser!" I love her.

Of course, not all bugs can fly.

He moved out of the way.

I fucking love Claw Noir so much you guys, he's so funny.

Well, he tried. Shadybug's just better than him ig.

Hesperia stores his butterfly in his cane. So it's just our Gabe that tries to keep multiple butterflies, I guess.

I think they should kiss.

So they're doing this in hopes that The Supreme spares them? Interesting, and pretty sad.

They're so scared of the Akuma lmfao

If I was Alya, I'd have given myself away by now. Actually, I wouldn't have had the presence of mind to even hide.

Guess the counterparts are from some dystopian world ruled by The Supreme. It tracks with the look we got at it in the opening.

"In order to get something I wanted." We saw the Peacock Miraculous in the opening too, and also Emilie died. So I guess Adrien is a Sentimonster in the other reality too. Damn it.

I guess this Gabe realized his mistake instead of descending into madness like ours.

She just broke Marinette's box like it was nothing. So much for that.

Claw Noir lounges around playing with dolls and mocks Shadybug for being lazy while she does all the work and he lazes around. Have I mentioned yet that I love him?

Also I am glad they stayed true to Adrien's character and had him play with dolls.

The whole part about Chat Noir... be still my Ladynoir heart.

Love how they incorporated the webisodes into this. About time those had relevance.

Shadybug really "hates" Claw Noir.

Marinette's having doubts, my poor baby girl.

Shadybug and Claw Noir have power, but not their strength. That's a really good line.

She's reading the diary and crying... baby.

This is such a touching scene. I don't say that lightly, but it really is.

SHE FOUND THE WISH

Marinette really wrote down every single world ending secret in this one poorly protected diary huh.

She literally took him down in 2 seconds. Bruh.

IDENTITY REVEAL! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL

Shadybug managed to achieve in 2 seconds what Marinette and Adrien have not achieved after 5 seasons of Love Square drama which I admittedly enjoy but that's not the point.

Those strange... marks? Cracks? Scars?

Blots off... I'm dying y'all.

Reverse Love Square? Hello??? HELLO???

She literally just beat his ass, tied him up and took his Miraculous and this is his reaction once he realizes who she is.

He's down so bad.

They should have played Careless Whisper here.

CUTIE PIE, MY SON

The Supreme is such a fucking asshole, he gagged the Kwamis.

Emonette wants our Marinette's life? She doesn't know the half of what she's getting into.

The Supreme got to the wish somehow? What the fuck?

"Reality is The Supreme." I don't know who this guy is, but he is DELULU.

This shot... masterfully done. My poor baby girl.

These kids are not okay. My poor sweet babies.

Daggers out. Seriously, stop it, you two.

He's trying to comfort her. They're just... I'm in pain. I'm so sad for them y'all.

Gabe in his prototype Monarch outfit.

Good thing (for him at least) he had the Ox, or else this would be his second cataclysm of the day.

Ladybug and Chat Noir are back in action, baby.

I'm sorry, I would not be able to say Betterfly unironically without bursting into laughter.

AFTER 5 SEASONS, WE FINALLY GET TO SEE CHAT NOIR'S NIGHT VISION AGAIN

Not that they needed it lmao

Alya coming in clutch with the recording. Queen.

LADYNOIR LADYNOIR LADYNOIR

It's so so so nice to see Ladynoir on screen again after Season 5 killed it.

Hit the word limit, so continued here.

139 notes · View notes

eoieopda · 8 months

Text

[visual content blog recommendations]

we see fic recs all the time, but i don’t think i’ve ever seen rec lists for visual content (gif/art/gfx/etc.) creators! they’ve been dealing with a bunch of shit lately between reposts, tumblr garbage, etc., so i wanna shout-out some favorites. thank you for keeping us fed!!

disclaimer: this is not an exhaustive list!! if you have recommendations of your own, please feel free to expand on this yourself and/or drop some of your faves in the replies for others to see. self-promo is always welcome here, too ✨ p.s. some of these are recent finds for me, so pls expect to see more of them on my blog. eta: i will be adding more as i go!!

[bts]

@yooboobies — réka’s gif sets are *chef’s kiss* and the ART? omg. the talent!!! 😭 we simply have to simp.

@cordiallyfuturedwight — apart from being one of the coolest/funniest people i’ve found on army tumblr, i am a kayla stan because the niche themes for her gif sets (ex. bangtan turtlenecks series) feel like they’re made 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 me 👏🏻 even though they absolutely aren’t, lmao.

@hopeinthebox — the bts as reductress headline + incorrect bangtan series are probably my favorite pieces of content on the entire internet??? also, lizzy is absolutely gd hilarious. tags are 11/10. a blessing upon my dash.

@kimtaegis — i’m not visually artistic enough to say this in a way that makes sense, but annie’s gifs are just… stunning? like, the colors? idk about the process that goes into that, but i imagine it takes a lot of time/finesse to be this vivid.

@kithtaehyung — ryen is the renaissance man of army tumblr, fr. not only can she write (like!!!) but she’s multi-faceted and insanely creative with her graphic design. i want her to tutor me, lmao.

@raplinenthusiasts — ooohhhhh my god. the coloring of their gifs makes my brain go brrrrtttt. this bts x the office set is on my “always reblog” list; i’ll share it every time i come across it.

@heybaetae — this set in particular is on my “always reblog” list, no matter how many times i’ve done so already. also, idk how to describe this, but kelli’s gifs are just…. crispy 🤌🏻 like, so satisfying with the…. texture? filtering? contrast? i’m an idiot re: editing terms, but go peep them and you’ll know what i’m trying to say.

@kth1 — literally who could ever forget maggie’s 100 days of (member) series??? the amount of work that had to go into that? unfathomable.

@jeurias — i want to wallpaper my house and office with their gfx. i’m deadass.

@jinstronaut — emmeline has been doing her “a jin a day while he’s away” series for OVER 250 DAYS NOW. i have never been nor will i ever be able to commit to anything to this level.

[multi/skz/atz/svt/etc.]

@starryoong — do not get me started on starry’s paintings, sketches, etc. because i will never shut up. ever. j’adore 🫠 is also a five-star human being.

@irlvernon — my queue is probably 80% max gifs at any given time. god-tier, fr. a must-follow for carats, as far as i’m concerned.

@vcrnons — incredible gifs, lovely human, and also the writer of some of my favorite svt fics??? we stan.

@yelhsaart — i don’t have any words for how much i love their art so please imagine guttural screaming instead. asdfghjkl!!!

@hizuillu — ……breathtaking. legitimately stunning skz art. like…… i have heart palpitations.

@snug-gyu — THE USE OF COLORS. i’m always a simp for pantone-inspired sets; they just scratch an itch in the back of my brain, and BOY HOWDY, is my brain satisfied 😵‍💫

@yunwooz — again, i have no idea what i’m talking about when it comes to the gif-making process, but the colors!!! the COLORS!!! like, taking a mv that’s not super vivid/is fairly greyscale and bringing it to life? ya know????

@booskwan — you want incredible gifs? they’ve got em. you want stunning gfx? they’ve got em. seriously, idk what to tell you except “pause right here and go follow immediately”.

@haechannabelle — listen……. annabelle’s art style is 😗🤌🏻 (that’s a chef’s kiss). the use of color, and the technique, and and and — ! ALSO, i must mention that she took, like, 50 hours to compile a boycott-friendly k-pop playlist. their vibes are simply impeccable.

rev. 4/10/24

#bts #skz #atz #svt #gfx recs #gif recs #art recs #jade speaks

226 notes · View notes

shopcat · 1 year

Text

HI. this is the steve harrington autism post. source: i have the steve harrington style autism that makes me autistic about him

to preface this i would like to say i am working off of personal like interpretation and thru the lens of my own experience :0... also this is long lol <3 so, tl;dr, here are the autistic traits or things that are caused by autism i believe steve showcases, (except.. do read if you like <3):

sensory issues -> wearing only ever the same style of clothes, adjusting/touching his hair, (potentially) eating certain foods

stimming -> walking in place to think, fiddling with small objects, spinning/flipping/throwing objects to keep himself focussed or entertained, listening to music

scripting -> repeating phrases/words aloud and practicing what he's going to say, repeating the "plan" aloud

routine -> strict hair routine with specific steps, was in routine sports with strict rules/timing and enjoys them otherwise, driving robin to school every day without even knowing she couldn't bc it was routine, working jobs that require mindless but engaging tasks including organisation

poor grasp of social cues, especially with girls, and saying the "wrong" thing at the wrong time (including the 6 little nuggets speech, "he ate dustin's cat", confessing to robin, etc)

other people feeling like they have to tell him things he's "missed" socially (dustin telling him he likes robin, eddie telling him he likes nancy)

likes to set/follow rules and is upset when people deviate from them (i.e. max wanting to leave in s4)

out of-the-box/atypical/lateral thinking

delayed processing of thoughts/concepts/complicated subjects especially in high-intensity scenarios

picking up on small details (like background sounds in large areas or recognising something) that other people don't pick up on

fixating on certain things (hair, clothes/shoes, sports, etc)

high pain tolerance/sensory dysregulation (shaking off concussions/consistent, continued ability to function while severely injured)

inability to conceptualise his OWN mortality/safety and engaging in at risk situations with little thought other than instinct + making impulsive choices

developmental differences/delays (literally crawling backwards)

poor grades in school/not getting into college

trouble regulating emotion

poor self esteem due to feeling worthless :(

i also have adhd so i also keep this in mind a little and obv at the end of the day this is just my own interpretation + autism is a spectrum :) NOW. i will go into detail >:)

SOOO i'm not sure if steve was deliberately coded as autistic but i DO think they intentionally in one way or another coded him with a developmental disability of some kind!! which i will talk about first!!

this is shown particularly in season 2 in a couple different instances and continues into season 3 at undercurrent ..

we've discussed this a little before but i also think this is why when people like to just describe him as genuinely "dumb" it like hurts people's feelings 😭 my feelings... and that's not intentional ofc but while it is a personal insecurity of the character himself that is being ironically picked at, positively or not, by those who love him in fandom, it's also evident of something happening under the surface that people may be unaware of imo

i think he display a out of-the-box, atypical or lateral way of thinking combined with delayed processing in a way that is very typical to neurodivergent behaviour!! and more...

in season 2 we get a really nice little look into his psychology about it when nancy is reading his college admission essay (that he presumably asked her to do) and he's sitting there SO nervous and full of doubt and worked up about it he's like. basically twitching 😭

he says "it's crap i know" and nancy's like no it's not! and he's like "ugh it's not good..." sooo stressed out.. and nancy says it just needs some reorganising, which is INTERESTING!!! someone who is insecure in his own skills and inability to get his thoughts across in a succinct way + has good, complex ideas that translate poorly when he tries to explain it out loud or in text + a host of insecurities pre-rooted and explicitly about his own intellectual "failings" all = a very neurodivergent read of Steve Vs School i think

also, maybe a tangent, but: in that essay itself nancy says he starts by using one of his basketball games as a metaphor for his life, then he confuses the metaphor by comparing it to the war his grandfather was in. nancy says she doesn't see how they're connected and he's like "um. it connects because we both won" (i actually think she's being very sweet in this scene!! idg when ppl say she's mean here)

ik this wasn't the show's intention and just extrapolation but i find it really cool + interesting that there IS a war of some kind that steve could talk about that HE fought in, there is a description of high stakes combat where it's him VS them and he is the only one who now has to make this high stakes, risky choice, instead of playing it safe like he always does that relates directly to his life as a metaphor and he DOES feel connected to his grandfather in this sense...

but he can't actually talk about that. so it's basketball. and it's a slightly clunky metaphor that makes it seem like, trite, like oh silly steve, basketball isn't WAR. the essay itself is actually really well-written and evocative!! but to me signifies this inability to directly translate what he's thinking, hence it needs a little "rearranging", or maybe it's a little "all over the place" even

(also, that he crumpled up the entire essay and dismissed it entirely and fell back on nihilistic thinking and "i'll just work for my dad i guess". he already had cast disbelief upon his own ability to thrive because he feels he's not good enough :( )

his failing grades, which ended in not getting into college, tech or otherwise, is a big part of his post-highschool arc i think. to me it also shows sympathy to a problem many young neurodivergent (in every which way, btw) people face, including myself, and is potentially a really almost kind portrayal of the capability of a person not being wrapped up in their intellectual or i guess SCHOLASTIC endeavours and "achievements", and that you can be successful and "useful" to others in different ways :0

to call him dumb and really mean it (both in and out of show -_-) after all this is a certain kind of disservice i guess? like okay i think a little jokey joke is fine and also absolutely RELATING is fine (and another extension of another one of my points which is basically just "he's just like me fr" can actually = "he's JUST like me... like For Real". he's dumb in the way i'm dumb and we're both not actually dumb) but let's all be cool okayyyy

beyond school, i think he displays SOO many behaviours both characteristically and even like in his physicality that build to this beautiful conclusion... i think steve is this guy who was served up to be an initially one dimensional being who proved himself again and again to have a multitude of complexities beneath the surface :). i think his literal entire character arc is adjacent to the autistic experience LOL... perhaps...

he showcases a certain need and comfort in routine in a variety of ways, like:

being interested in sports both watching recreationally (which have timed matches and he HAS to be there on time, too) and as the hobby itself. sports are a high-routine activity with strict rules and rituals, before, after and during, as well as the extra work you have to put in otherwise!!

ESPECIALLY something like swimming, which is all about certain timing (and an individual-based sport as opposed to the team-based basketball) which he took for years!! (and actually got his cpr verification for, which you absolutely don't need to just like. be on the swim team. but it would be the "right" way to do it LOL) (also idk how it worked in 1980s fictional indiana but you need your verification a year in advance to actually do anything with it where i live!! which means he did it FROM freshman year)

driving robin to school every day, and then presumably picking her up for work sometimes too, despite not even knowing she COULDN'T drive herself because he was so dedicated to this routine (and friendship :D <3)

his hair routine!! it's SO specific (four puffs EXACTLY!!! no more no less... and when it's DAMP not WET) and i am honestly of the mind it's actually far more complex of a routine he even makes it out to be .. and i am willing to bet the multi step experience of it all is sooo long and has to be just as specific too. also extra points for it being something he does that aids in his own self-image and would make him feel like he's putting himself together.? so to speak

i think, in a way, that he owns about 9 pairs of shoes and most of them are white sports shoes with a colour accent + he's been shown to wear the colour accent that matches his outfit more often than not. which i spose is a certain kind of. ritual or routine or something.

he also shows a whole host of sensory issues/complexities/...things!!

he wears the same style of clothes like CONSTANTLY. almost everything he owns is either a soft sweater or a polo shirt, plus the same style of jacket he cycles through, all of which are well-worn (despite him being like, rich) :) the exception is that colourblock denim vest (which i think is the exception for him too because he just wanted to look like marty mcfly. which is so autistic)

i.e. wearing something that you know is comfortable over and over that doesn't give you a poor sensory experience, and continuing to buy the same style of clothing because you know it's safe to do so because he FEELS comfortable. super autistic trait. beloved prep trait as well i also just think he doesn't actually care what he wears but whatever

he also sometimes favours tight clothes and sometimes looser/baggier ones (think one day the s4 blue/white polo and jeans, the next a sweater and loose chinos) which indicates to me possible different sensory needs in the day by day...

he also wears a lot of undershirts, including with the scoops ahoy uniform (which could've been to avoid a POOR sensory experience)

he adjusts/runs his fingers through his hair and makes sure it's in a nice state at an almost compulsive level but it's also like an afterthought kind of. it could also just be a sensory thing to want to retouch his hair and play with it and follow through with the prior routine of it Looking Good + a grounding technique for sure

along with that he stims a LOT, including the thing where he has to twirl or throw ANYTHING in his hands up to and including -> a lighter, the baseball bat MIDFIGHT, a torch, a phone MIDFIGHT, his ice cream scooper, keys, his sailor hat, a banana, a random ball he found... he's also very fiddly and tends to sort of be happy sitting quietly and doing something over and over like that (this is also a trait with adhd :) )

the jobs he worked are relatively low intensity despite customer interaction and had him working with his hands plus at FV there's a lot of sorting/organisation. also "not my TAPES man" because he already sorted them and now it's ruined 😭

you tend to see him taking a little moment for himself in the background of scenes a lot, sometimes with robin as well!! he kind of just wanders off and does his own thing but in the wake of the high emotion, high adrenaline various combats in-show it makes sense, even more so if he just needs a little moment to himself to unwind

he walks/paces to think!!!

the reason he and robin only even threw up in season 3 is a) the stimulating lights he noticed that then b) over-stimulated them

this one's a little less obvious but he listens to the same kind of music and listens to it LOUDLY when he's stressed 😭 he also doesn't turn it off even if he like, technically should like on the way to fight monsters. i think he just likes music a lot tbh but also very autistic to me (and also a reason why he and eddie would be friends and/or kiss on the mouth)

one of the biggest things that sounds off to me is his social interactions :0 he is hailed as this like, ladies man but almost near constantly plummets to the earth in insane social blunder which personally i love actually (and it extends beyond these situations too!!). all the hottest boys are autistic...

i know that this is to show him just like, losing his charm...? and that he peaked in highschool or something and i do love his patheticness but it's also sooo autism. one of the reasons i actually think he's gay (lol) is his compulsive need to try and "land" a social interaction with a woman, then fail, while also not "feeling the spark" with the women he DID land and failing to see why (like his date at the basketball game). he's constantly seeking companionship but it feels like it's just out of his reach and he doesn't get it... sigh... and that it's definitely in part bc he feel he can't relate to them because HE'S so different i think. for whatever reason. multiple.

in season 3 the ENTIRE you rule/you suck board is like a beautiful shrine to this... he's honestly so funny . but like constantly awkwardly flirting and somehow saying the wrong thing every time whilst also not getting that they're Not responding to him until they like, leave, which is like. a statistical unlikelihood to me of times this can happen without something else going on in his little brain. i also like that he "invented" a makeout point bc that opens up the ability to just go um. let's go to skull rock. and the person would be like oh okay yes i am going to makeout with steve harrington.

beyond just girls or failed flirting or whatever a lot of his interactions with the kids or his other friends ping to me as having trouble with social cues and some accidental bluntness!! a FAVOURITE being -> "dart ate a cat?" "no. what? no." "what are you talking about? he ate mews" "who's mews?" "it's dustin's cat" "STEVE..." 😭😭 i love him. also him suggesting he could work his charm on the dean of the school and nancy being like... not that kind of charm.

oh another good moment for this is in the epilogue to season 3 actually like he's trying so hard to show he's seen Some movies (but only remembers the significant/stand out details) and then when robin's like can you give us a moment he's just like. Why. and does this funny little head shake movement. and robin does the steve -_- and he backs away kubrick staring... beautiful scene

he also falls victim i think to saying the wrong thing at the wrong time which is a lot of the time not necessarily his like FAULT ofc but suggests further little issues or . unalignmentd with social interaction. the entire 6 little nuggets speech to nancy to me is one of these situations (and maybe the convo in the woods with her?? idk) where he's kind of just talking and digging a hole and the other person is sort of just sitting there. it's also shown with like "like the germans?"

ALSO, a lot of the time people end up coming to him specifically and sort of like... telling him what to do/how HE feels?? and i think he just sort of goes along with it. in season 3 dustin tells him he has a crush on robin until he kind of talks himself into it and then he accidentally crash-fails for a second time by confessing to her at a sort of insane time as well (not that i think he actually had any feelings for her!!). and in season 4 eddie does the SAME with nancy which is almost spectacular.

alsoo while i think he struggles with certain social cues i also think he's very emotionally intelligent and he picks up on people's feelings easily which i guess someone could say it seems to counter? other autistic traits (silly) but to me i think. autistic people are aware of PLENTY of social cues sometimes the cue is just stupid -_- and i can read other people's emotions for sure in fact i'm almost like hyper attuned to it i just don't know how to RESPOND to it a lot of the time. whereas steve picks up on dustin's nerves at the snow ball and reassures him accordingly (and so cutely..), then picks up on robin's emotions after his confession and near-immediately course corrects after her confession in order to make her laugh!!! he was also really good with picking up on nancy's feelings and knowing exactly what to do about it/using forethought about it (like idk holding her hand when they were having sex or something to ease her nerves but also noticing she was upset at the library) when they were together at least 🤔

there are also a number of other various things very dear to me that i have no where else to include. LIKE:

his high pain tolerance!!! he's able to shake off torture, multiple concussions, various beatings with little to almost NO actual repercussions. in s4 it was actually really interesting how he was feeling bad enough to almost faint after the bats but once he was patched up he was "fine", and acted like he was fine for... the rest of the entire show. he did a backflip. high pain tolerance is an offshoot of a sensory dysregulation!!

specifically a lack of filter and moments where he goes "too far" especially when he's struggling with an emotional dysregulation of sorts, like with dustin in s4 or even with jonathan s1, but also like. the dumb faces he was making behind his date's back.

"when i was a baby, i crawled backwards"!!! autistic children can have different development i.e. their early CHILDHOOD development that can present itself in a variety of ways!! atypical to the norm crawling/walking is one of them (also matches up with robin taking 6 months longer to walk than other babies which she Also said to nancy and i think this is significant of something and i don't know what. maybe it's just funny. also stobin soulmates ofc).

to me, being the guy who mid plan debrief is the one saying "so let me get this straight" AND that he's the one asking the necessary questions to get everyone's minds (and in the 4th wall sense the literal plot) moving suggests that he both feels the need to want clarification of like, plans/instructions and what the situation is so everyone is caught up and he didn't get it wrong, and that just speaking it aloud helps cement it in his mind (which is also scripting as well i believe). also his ability to ask the RIGHT "wrong" questions suggests out of-the-box thinking as well (i would say both of these are also an adhd trait!)

his friendship with robin is honestly a point for me LOL. robin is an example of a character i do believe IS intentionally absolutely autistic coded, especially in season 4 but also 3, and his bond with her seems to be a personal one based in trust in each other and their own similarities... in season 4 when they're lamenting their love lives and say they should "just combine" is so important to me.. ugh

he's very particular and possessive about his belongings in an almost pedantic way (c'mon man not my SCOOPER! and wipe your feet before you get in my CAR and honestly even that he refuses to let max drive it fullstop, a little bit)

he also ate. SO many bananas at scoops i think for a time being it ended up being a safe food which literally happened to me as well. a very small thing but i like it

he scripts!! ie he repeats words and phrases aloud as a form of stimulation and getting himself to think or practices what he's going to say before things so he's "scripting" it (his "i'm sorry wtf am i sorry for" speech before he runs into dustin in s2)

he gets along better people who, by majority, aren't in his peer group i.e. the kids!!! and even robin and nancy were a little younger! he is very genuinely friends with the kids and it is Very Genuinely so sweet, but particularly with dustin too i found it sooo... <3

he also shows like these moments of high-intensity like silly child-like qualities of (autistic) joy LIKE when he sees dustin in scoops and they have their little lightsaber fight (which they. had practiced and made beforehand) that is just so sweet to me...

he picks up on things that other people don't!!! as the Normal Guy in a group of people he typically ends up settling in that role BUT he's multiple times picked up on small details that other people don't or DIDN'T notice, which is a neurodivergent trait!! he recognised the song in the russian recording, recalled where it came from like. right after + was the only one who heard dustin in the upside down + other things like noticing when someone's missing from a room

i also think he may be prone to like. i guess sensory overload/emotional dysregulation when he reacts what i think is appropriately to these HUGE scary scenarios but everyone else is like chill out and therefore it's inappropriate to them that he's losing his mind about it. but as time passes and he gets used to it all it lessens for sure (most evident in season 1) but there are moments where he struggles to reign in his truest reactions to things i think LOL. he is also just very dramatic tbf ☝️

his other vague neuroticisms but specifically commenting when things aren't Correct or Right or Safe including complaining about the sterility of the needle he was being injected with mid TORTURE

when he defaults to sports metaphors bc that's the easiest thing he can relate to in s2. god

100% of autistic people i talk to about this all go OH YEAH he's so autistic. tbh i think autistic people relating to a character can be enough of a diagnosis to me. peer diagnosis...

i just think so :)

in conclusion...

#steve harrington #🍦#WARNING . this is like 3k #sts

362 notes · View notes

justmeinadaze · 9 months

Text

Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites (Steddie X You)

A/N: This is that idea I told y'all about when my PTSD was really bad last week. I actually liked writing some of this out <3. It did help a bit. I wish I had them and a Red to help me through those rough days.

I did set this after the events of Season 4 so slight spoilers involving Max mostly. Im kind of excited to explore a bit more of Steve's PTSD involving the show. I did it a bit here. I also chose to utilize my own trauma as the readers trauma. I'll delve a bit more in the warnings.

Anyone struggling with their mental health, you are not alone <3. You're feelings are valid and we just have to take things one day at a time. I love you :)

Warnings: Steddie X Fem Reader, No smut yet, Fluff with the reader trying to make them feel better and vice versa. Angst, trauma involving the show is mentioned especially with Steve's feelings of what happened to Max, mentions of Eddie being blamed and the town treating him like trash, he does talk about his abuse as a child very briefly as does the reader. No details are mentioned just that it happened. Reader has a panic attack that the boys help her through.

I do expand on symptoms of PTSD and how the reader feels. Symptoms of mental health can be different for everyone so I focused more on what I experience with my own PTSD. As I progress in the chapters and she becomes more open with them I will most likely talk about things that happened to me. I didn't want to generalize what she was going through mostly because its hard. PTSD and trauma are complicated in it of its self so...

Word Count: 5314

You had been coming to this group for years because of your mental health. Your doctor suggested it stating that it might help you to hear from other people going through the same thing you were. Truth be told it never worked. The other people in this post traumatic stress support group were mostly military vets or officers who had just moved to Hawkins to “get away from the chaos.” You imagined it was a quite a shock for them when the earthquake hit…

While a lot of their symptoms and aftermath stories were similar to yours, you struggled to connect. If anything, you felt more alone. So why did you keep coming back?

Routine, maybe. Or the need to have any kind of human contact since you spend the bulk of your time by yourself at home. Hell, you even worked from home so the only living thing you interacted with on a daily basis was your service dog, Ren. You rarely ever spoke in group, choosing to sit there and listen to the other people speak.

Since the earthquake, however, more people had joined to your dismay. Most of the citizens that came in took up most of the time talking about the event and how scared they were about what happened. You tried not to let the disgust show on your face when they spoke, understanding that everyone experiences things differently but they didn’t really know.

They didn’t know what it was like to spend years replaying an event in your head even when you’re asleep. To have those moments where something that would be random to someone else meant something significant to you triggering a panic attack that knocked you on your ass for the rest of the day. They didn’t know what it was like to be so scared to even go to the fucking grocery store to get essentials without the fear that everyone is talking about you and judging you because you’ve been standing in front of the canned goods for a little bit too long wondering if you buy this will you actually eat it or will it just sit there for months at a time because some days you don’t feel like eating.

Your PTSD consumed a lot of your life for most of your life whereas these people were just now stepping into it and were most likely going to step right back out. After a few months, you were correct. All those citizens gradually stopped coming in till it was just the regular survivors once again.

After grabbing some coffee, you and Ren sat in your usual spot, waiting for the meeting to start. The dog grabbed your attention when he whined and without warning placed his head on the stranger beside you.

“Oh. Hey, buddy.”, he coos as his big hand reaches down to pet his head.

“I’m sorry. He probably senses your anxiety.”

“Well shit. He’s not wrong. I’m not really good at any of this.”, he gestures around the room. “But some of my friends insisted we come so…”

“We?”

“Yeah, um…” The boy’s eyes glance up towards someone headed for the seat next to him and it takes you a moment to realize everyone else’s eyes on him as well.

You recognized his face immediately, Edward Munson. The metalhead had been accused of being a satanic worshipper who murdered a bunch of teens a few months ago. He had been cleared of those charges thanks to the help of the old police chief, some detective journalism by Nancy Wheeler, and his friend… “Steve Harrington?”

“That’s me. Do I know you? My memory isn’t what it used to be.”

“She had school with us and graduated along with you, Harrington.”, Eddie sighed as he folded his arms.

“Oh. I’m sorry. What was your name?”

“You look different.”, you blurted before turning away from him and closing your eyes. “I’m…I’m sorry. Sometimes…my mouth moves before…before my brain catches up.”

Ren senses your heightened anxiety and places himself between your legs so you can pet his head, down his back.

“Alright everyone, let’s get started.”, the overly cheery coordinator grins as he sits down and crosses his legs. While glancing at his clipboard, he addresses the circle. “Does anyone have anything they’d like to share before we get going?”

“Why is he here?”, someone sneers as they point towards the metalhead.

“He should be in a cell not in group therapy.”, says another.

“Hey now. Mr. Munson is entitled to care just like everyone else and I expect you guys to treat him with the same respect we do everyone else. If that’s going to be a problem, I completely understand, feel free to leave and meet us at our other scheduled time on Thursday.”

Half the people in the room stood up and walked out, the last person slamming the door of the room for emphasis. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Steve pat his back comfortingly as Eddie lets out a deep, heartbroken sigh.

“Would either of you like to introduce yourself to the rest of the group?”

The metalhead continued to glare forward as Steve spoke up. “As some of you may know, I’m Steve Harrington and this is my friend Eddie. Our other friend Robin suggested we try this since we, uh, we’ve been having some trouble lately.”

“Good, very good. Nice to meet you both. This is a safe space so please feel free to be open here.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s, uh, let’s continue down the line here. Y/N? Do you feel like talking? I see Ren is on duty today. Something you’re anxious about?”

“Everything.” The man chuckles as people around the room nod in agreement. “I’m ok today, thanks.”

The remainder of the meeting goes by smoothly without any incident and as it ends everyone rises to leave except the two people next to you. They expect you to leave as well but when you stand, instead of heading for the door you place yourself next to Eddie. He doesn’t move or make any gestures to acknowledge your presence and you’re ok with that. You aren’t really one for small talk or anything like that but something about his demeanor gave you a gut feeling that you decided to expand on.

Your therapist was always preaching about learning to trust your gut and positive self-talk making your eyes roll every time.

“Um, this is Ren. He’s a service lab for me because I, uh, I get shaky and anxious really easily. He can sense when I’m nervous or about to have an attack so he helps ground me. I can just pet him or he’ll let me hold him. At home, he’s trained to bring me my medication.”

Steve watches you speak, seemingly trying to get a read on you while Eddie continues to stare straight ahead. You can tell he’s listening though because his head tilted ever so slightly towards you as you began explaining things. Personally, he was so ecstatic to hear a stranger talk calmly with him but he couldn’t display that for fear of ruining the moment or worse, it being a lie.

“Do…do you want to pet him?”

His head finally whips around to look at you as his eyes scan yours. Swallowing nervously, he sat up straighter, rolling his eyes in faux frustration as his palm reached out to pet the dog’s head.

“Why Ren? How did you come up with that?”, Steve asked.

“The morning before I got him, I saw Footloose at the cinema. I like Kevin Bacon’s character and his name was Ren. Do you want to see something cute?” Without waiting for an answer, you stood in front of them and motioned for the lab to stand in front of you. Holding out your hands, you sang the Footloose theme song and he jumped up to place his paws in your hands to dance with you.

Both men smiled and you knew you’d never be able to explain why but it comforted you.

“I, um, I know this town can be full of assholes but I hope you do come back next week. Craig, the coordinator, will take care of you. He’s a little quirky but he’s nice.”

Again, you don’t wait for an answer as you gather your things and Ren before heading out the door.

****

When Steve got home that night, he immediately went on the hunt for his yearbook.

“What are you doing, man?”, Eddie whined as he threw himself on the bed.

“Looking for my yearbook. I’m surprised I don’t remember her. The guy said Y/N, do you remember her last name?”

Of course, he did. When you were in school together, he had a few classes with you especially English. Junior year you wrote a story that the teacher made you read in front of the class about a girl who was hiding in a forest behind a tree as she watched two monsters argue about how they were going to eat her when they found her. The other kids thought you were weird but he identified with it; picturing his parents fighting as you read.

Eddie never found the courage to speak to you but he was always your hidden knight, watching over you. One of the party boys had talked about how they fucked you and how much of a freak you were so he slashed the kids tires and spray painted “Asshole” in big, bold letters on his car. You probably didn’t remember but on valentine’s day he had slipped a note in your locker that was a drawing of you battling your monsters you had written about.

“No. Come on, Harrington. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like we’re going back anyway.”

Steve paused his search as he sat down and crossed his legs. “Why wouldn’t we go back?”

“I don’t know if you noticed but people weren’t exactly excited I was there.”

“Fuck those people. At least one person was excited. Two if you count the dog.”

“Yeah sure. Let ruin that by bringing her into our shit. Plus, it’s not like we can tell anyone or talk about what really happened.”

Steve sighed as he got up to sit beside him. “Ed, first off, there isn’t shit to bring her into. Vecna’s dead; we killed him. Secondly, we don’t have to talk about what happened…just what happens after.”

“Really? You want to play that game, Steven? He may be dead but we still got shit. Max is still in a coma, Dustin is still struggling, the town is quite literally cut in half, and ALL of us still have fucking nightmares with all that other fun post traumatic shit. Things are still so out of whack we haven’t even told our friends about us yet.”

“They have enough on their plates.”

“Exactly. So, I reiterate, why do you want to bring this girl into our chaos?”

The man sighs again as he hangs his head making Eddie feel a little guilty as he leans his head on his shoulder while reaching for his hand.

“I don’t know. There’s just something about her that makes me feel comfortable and safe.”

###########

“You came back.”

“Yeah, it took some convincing but…”, Steve grinned. “Hey Ren. May I?”, he asked before petting the lab when you nodded.

“How are you feeling today, Eddie?”

The metalhead softly smiles at you as he tilts his head in your direction. When the meeting begins you can already feel that the energy is different. One of the regulars is extremely agitated today as his leg bounces and he folds his arms. As soon as Craig reaches him, he shouts his problem as he struggles to control the volume of his voice. Your eyes close as you try to stay present and remind yourself that your safe.

No, no, no. Please. I can’t have a panic attack here in front of all these people. Everyone will look at me. They’ll think I’m weak. No, no, no.

“Y/N?”, the coordinator calls your name and you fold into yourself. “Y/N, you’re ok. You’re safe.”

Ren places his front paws on your knees as he rests his head on your shoulder. You couldn’t do this, pushing him back as you stumbled out the door into the hallway before sinking to the floor.

Your service dog continued to do what it was trained to do as he ran after you and laid beside you in your arms. The sound of your bag and a bottle of water being placed beside you startled you but you couldn’t move to acknowledge it.

You felt your head being lifted and placed on something relatively soft as you continued to try and calm down. It took a few moments but once you felt like you could breathe you opened your teary eyes to see Eddie looking towards the window.

“Hey, hey, take your time.”, Steve soothed in a soft tone when you tried to sit up. “I grabbed your bag and some water. Do you need your meds or anything?”

“C-C-Can you help me?”, you asked as you reached your arms back to try and push yourself to a sitting position. He leaned over to help you adjust as you laid against the wall with your head on the metalhead’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“I didn’t want you laying your head on the hard floor. I hope that was ok.”, Eddie tenderly grinned.

You nodded, watching heavily as Ren dug his snout in your purse before producing your medicine and placing it on your lap.

“Good boy. Steve, in there is his treats. Can you give him one?”

He smiled as he did what you asked and your dog wagged his tail happily.

“Do you need help?”, Eddie whispered.

“I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Without saying a word, he grabbed the meds from you lap and opened the bottle, shaking one into his hand and popping it closed. He placed the pill near your mouth and your eyes met his as you slowly opened, allowing him to place it on your tongue before holding the edge of the water to your lips and tipping it back.

“You’re not any trouble. I…we…appreciate you being as kind as you have been to us.”

As he extended his arm to place everything back in its proper place, his jacket sleeve slid up and you noticed some slight scaring around his wrist. When he felt your eyes on him, he followed your glance, quickly covering it up as he leaned back.

“Thank you for coming out here. You didn’t have to. I struggle with aggressiveness like what Jeremy did in there.”

“Is that not normal for him?”

“Usually, no but I imagine this earthquake and the aftermath hasn’t helped him with his flashbacks.”

“How has it been for you?”, Steve asked.

“Um, not to chaotic. I had a harder time a few months prior when this town was going crazy and playing police officers like they were the law or something. Oh shit. Eddie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even—”

“No worries, sweetheart. I’m used to it now; the stares, gossip, and questions.”

“Should you be?”

His eyes met yours again before quickly looking away as the door to the group area opened and people filed out. The man who had been yelling came over to where you were sitting and apologized in a much more gentle tone then he had previously. After accepting it and smiling towards him, you slowly wobbled to your feet with Steve helping to guide you.

“Are you ok to drive? We can take you home if you’d like.”

“No, I’m alright. I just need to eat something and get a little energy back.”

“Would you like to have dinner with us?”, Eddie offered carefully.

“Sure.”

***

As the three of you entered the restaurant, your eyes darted around as your brain did its regular anxiety check. You made sure to clock where all the exits were and how to get to them, scanned the current patrons to make sure no one was someone who would hurt you, and marked which seat you would prefer to be in just in case you needed to run.

When you glanced towards Steve, you blinked back surprise when you realized he was doing the same thing.

“I have to leave, Harrington, but get it to go and we can eat in my van. If that’s ok with you.”

You nodded, panicking slightly as he walked back out the door, unsure of what he was hiding from. To avoid another episode, you did the same leaving the other man to order. When you made it outside you found Eddie in the driver’s seat smoking a cigarette, his eyes darting to you when you climbed into the passenger’s side.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I saw Jason’s parent’s eating at a table so…”

“I never thought you killed those kids.” As soon as the words blurted out, your eyes squeezed shut. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Finger reached out to touch your arm causing your eyes to open again, meeting his kind chocolate-colored ones.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

When you apologize again, both of you let out a breathy, genuine laugh.

“When I saw on the news what happened to Chrissy, I knew you couldn’t have done it. Yeah, you were always loud in school but you were also really sweet… at least from what I remember.”

You two jumped when Steve opened the back of the van and threw himself in. “Eddie, go.”

Without any hesitation, he started to put the vehicle in gear but he wasn’t fast enough as Jason’s father appeared by his window and aggressively knocked on the glass.

“Where do you think you’re going, freak?! You’re the reason my son and his girlfriend are dead!”

“Go, Eddie!”, Steve commanded.

The metalhead slammed his foot on the gas and sped off with the man shouting behind him. The rest of the ride was silent until he parked near the hill that surveyed the town. You watched as he continued to grip the wheel like a lifeline as his chest rose and fell. You wanted to help but you didn’t know exactly how. They only thing you could think of was to grab his palm and place it on Ren’s head. The dog was used to limp pets as Eddie’s hand lazily fell down his back but he promptly rested his head on his lap as you praised him.

Steve leaned over the seat and placed his arms around him as he whispered things in his ear furthest from you. After a few moments his hand began to move against Ren’s fur making the dog’s tail wag as the other boy released him from his hold.

“Come on. Let’s eat.”

############

It was actually the perfect evening for eating outside. The van doors remained open as the three of you munched on your meals in the back. From this spot Hawkins looked different; less chaotic than it was.

While you guys ate you casually talked about yourself. They told you some general things about themselves and you did the same. Even though you felt safe with them you didn’t want to bombard them too much with the mess that was your life. You felt like they were holding back as well, omitting certain information they were afraid to tell.

“You can work from home, you know?”, you mentioned after Eddie brought up how hard it was to find a job because of who he was. “That’s what I do.”

“I could do that.”

“Wouldn’t that be hard for you, Ed? You’re very talkative and outgoing. Don’t you like thrive off of people or some shit.”

“Thrive off of people… No, Harrington. I’m not a vampire.” They grinned at each other when you giggled. “I mean it wouldn’t be much different. Everyone already thought I was a freak beforehand. Now I’m just a murdering freak.”

Everyone went silent as the metalhead turned away to glare outside.

“You should stop saying things like that.”, you murmur.

“It’s how they feel.”, he shrugs.

“Who cares how they feel. What matters is how you feel and the truth. You didn’t do it so stop saying it.” Eddie’s eyes jerked towards you as your tone got more agitated.

“Yeah, well, what would you know?”

“Eddie, stop it.”, Steve warned.

“It’s ok, Steve. I can handle this. I’m mentally ill not weak.”

“No one said you were weak, Y/N.”

“What makes you so confident I didn’t do it, hm? You weren’t there. Maybe I did.”

“Eddie…”

“No, Harrington. I’m curious. What makes her so confident? I have to know because besides my friends and my uncle you are the only person in this town who believes I didn’t do some satanic ritual to murder Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, and Jason. That I didn’t hurt Max to cause that fucking earthquake. Why?”

Steve angerly threw the water bottle he was drinking from hard against the inside of the van making you jump.

“Jesus Christ. Are you fucking kidding me, Ed?! We finally find one person who believes the truth and you have to fucking question it! Who gives a fuck why she believes you! Just embrace it.”

He crawls out of the vehicle and begins to pace as he lets off steam. Ren puts his head on your lap and you pet him as you watch Eddie climb out as well and hug the boy from behind, resting his cheek on his back.

“I’m sorry if I startled you.”, Steve apologized without looking your way.

“You didn’t. I…I feel safe with you, both of you. That’s why I believe you. I can’t explain it, Eddie. I wish I could. My therapist says that because of my trauma I had to learn how to read people so I could protect myself and prepare just in case. You two…I just don’t get this vibe that I need to be afraid of you.”

“Like a superpower?”, the metalhead grins softly as he comes to sit back beside you.

“You could say that.”, you giggle and his heart melts. Abruptly, you lean over and wrap your arms around his shoulders, feeling his body stiffen only for a moment before fully accepting it. “You’re a good person Edward Munson.”

Steve watches you both as he stands in front of you, also taken aback when you turn your love towards him by hugging him to, circling your arms around his lower back.

“You to, Steve Harrington.”

****

The following week you were happy to see they attended group again and seemed so much lighter than they had the other times they had come. As the meeting started, once again you felt that shift in energy.

“Y/N, I know you don’t talk much here and that’s absolutely fine. I was hoping maybe we could talk about what happened last week.”

“Oh, um, I don’t want to make Jeremy feel bad.”

“I’m ok. I want you to talk about it. It helps me understand…”

You gnaw on your bottom lip at his answer as Craig looks at you with earnest eyes. “I, um, he got aggressive and I panicked.”

“He did get verbally confrontational. Was it the yelling or what he was saying that triggered you?”

“The…yelling doesn’t…doesn’t really bother me or what is said. It…how it was being said.”

“Huh. Interesting. Please, go on.”

“My mom…was always kind of…forceful with her words…”

You don’t see it but both the boy’s protective modes had kicked in beside you especially Steve’s. It takes all his energy not to comfort you in some way. Yesterday, you had hugged him and Eddie but you three had been alone. Right now, you were in room full of people and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He settled for casually extending his legs a bit so his knee was just barely touching your own.

“I don’t want to talk anymore if that’s ok.”

“That’s fine, Y/N. How about you Steve? I noticed you and Eddie got up pretty quickly to make sure she was okay. I’m sure she appreciates that. Are you usually the protector of your friend group?”

He smirks slightly. “They would probably say I’m more like the babysitter.”

“That’s funny.”, the coordinator laughs. “I have seen you around town with some of the younger kids like Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler. You and Mr. Munson there.”

“How’s Max Mayfield doing?” Both their heads shot up to look towards the member that asked the question. “Is she doing any better? I heard her mom is wreck.”

“Jackie, you know the rules. We don’t gossip in here.”, Craig scolds.

“I’m not gossiping! Max was dating that Sinclair boy, right? Who hangs out with Michael and Dustin who apparently hang out with them so…I just want to know.”

Ren, who had been laying on the floor by your feet, suddenly sat up and waddled between Steve’s legs before lifting himself up so his head was on the man’s shoulder.

“Hug him.”, you whisper as you reach out to rub the boy’s back.

Slowly, he wraps his arms around him and pets the dog’s head. “Good boy.”

“Let’s, uh, Let’s move on to someone else.”

As the coordinator began talking to another person, Steve got up to leave as you and Eddie followed behind. Unlike you, instead of sitting in the hall, he continued to the parking lot towards his BMW.

“Steve, wait. Wait a second!”, the metalhead called to him trying to keep up.

“I’m fine. Let’s just go home.”

“If you’re fine then why are we leaving?”

“Because I know they are going to ask about her again and I don’t want to hear it so…”, he aggressively gestures towards the car.

“Isn’t that the point of this therapy group bullshit? To talk or whatever the fuck you said. This was your idea. You can’t just drag us here and then leave when it gets hard.”

“Ok, well, you know what? You were right, okay? We can’t talk about what happened so—”

“But they aren’t asking what happened. They are asking how she is. They already think they know what happened.”

“Fine! Fine, Eddie! Let’s go back in there and answer her question! ‘Oh yeah, Jackie, Max is fine. Just all of her limbs are broken and she’s in a fucking coma but hey the doctors say she’s not brain dead! Always a silver lining!’”

“Steve…what happened to her wasn’t your fault.”

“Fuck this. I’ll walk home.”

The metalhead ran in front of him, trying to block him with his body. “What happened to her, me, Dustin, and Lucas wasn’t your fault. You killed him. You, Nancy, and Robin saved us all but you’re not fucking superman, babe. You can’t be everywhere at once and can’t protect everyone.”

Steve’s head hung and they clung to each other as Eddie embraced him. When they disconnected, they were almost startled by your presence, forgetting you were there entirely.

“Hey, um, before my brain glitches, I drew you something last night.” Eddie digs in his pocket and hands you a folded piece of paper.

When you open it fully, you softly smile at the image of you in boots and a superhero style outfit with your palm in the air as a zig-zag force field surrounded you. Next to you was Ren with his tongue hanging out and mask over his eyes. At the top was bold 3D lettering that read “LADY EMPATHY” with smaller print underneath; “Senses Emotions and helps heal the innocent with her trustee four-legged side kick Anti-Depressant.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry but you loved it. No one had ever done something nice like this for you except that one time someone slide a drawing into your locker.

Your eyes met his as a light bulb went off in your head.

“Do you two want to come over to my house? We can hang out and eat some food. I would like to show you something.”

Eddie glanced at Steve who nodded his approval.

“Ok. Sounds like fun.”

****

“Wow, this place is really nice.”, Steve muses as he looks around.

“Thank you. I don’t have much but I don’t need too much so…”, you shrug as you watch them move around.

“You seem to like a lot of movies, huh?” Eddie walks around looking at your posters hanging on the wall.

“I do especially the fantasy ones. It’s nice to hide from reality in movies like The Never Ending Story or Dragon Slayer. I can’t wait for Labyrinth to come out. You know that new Bowie movie?”

The metalhead chuckles when Steve shrugs. “He doesn’t know who that is, sweetheart. Steve isn’t exactly well versed in most media.”

Your eyes widen as you head towards your sound system and push in a cassette. “Let’s Dance” flows through the speakers and he bobs his head he listens. “Pretty cool.”

Eddie laughs harder when you playfully sigh as his musical ignorance. “Yeah. Welcome to my world. What did you want to show us?”

After disappearing into your room, you come back with a frame in your arms, the image facing your body.

“When I was in high school, I was pretty good at being invisible but sometimes I wasn’t so lucky. The jocks would pick on me a lot and pretty girls like Tammy Thompson would make my life hell.” Steve sighed praying that he wasn’t one of the people who hurt you. “That was nothing compared to what I was dealing with at home. My parents…they, um, they weren’t nice with each other and sometimes…my mother would take that out on me.”

“I always loved English class because I could write about what I was feeling. One day a teacher had asked me to read something I wrote in front of everyone. I told him no but he insisted and as I stood there, I could hear people snickering. It was awful; I hate talking in front of people. But anyway, a few days later, I found this in my locker.”

You turned the frame around to display the image Eddie had drawn for you as you slowly moved toward him.

“You have no idea what this did for me. In a world full of people where I felt like no one cared, this showed me someone was listening. Someone out there did care…at least enough to take the time to draw this and give it to me.”

Eddie’s eyes met yours as he spoke. “I related to it, your story about the monsters and the kid hiding. My father used to scream at my mother until it escalated. I would always hide in my room hoping I wasn’t next.” Steve came over to stand next to him and rub his back comfortingly. “Turns out I can’t fight any monsters, can I, Stevie?”

The boy growled under his breath as his hand fell.

“You were always amazing to me. You seemed so smart and strong; I was so afraid to talk to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your story so I drew that and slid it into your locker.”

“So…my superpower works? I was right about you. You are a good person.” You smile when he smirks in your direction. “You guys can talk to me…about anything. I won’t judge you or hurt you or anything. I trust you and I hope that you can trust me.”

They glance at each other and you see the hesitation in their look. They a definitely holding something back but you pray that one day they’ll feel comfortable enough to let you in. Little did you know, the massive secrets they could tell.

167 notes · View notes

gggreengoblin · 8 months

Text

2142 words. Inspired by this post and I put my own twist (and insecurities) into the mix. Girl!Daniel who was so in love with Max having a late quarter life crisis because of Kelly's instagram posts and stories during their summer break. Thanks to toastandvegemite and their brilliant mind. CW :: WAG (Kelly), girl!Daniel is a little bit depressed in this story

This is just a fiction, yes, not real. English is my 3rd language so please be gentel.

Daniel had never imagined that she would be standing at the food aisle, 7 pm on Tuesday, tears welling up in her eyes while looking for a specific brand of cooking chocolate. She had been listening to Lana del ray all day, now all she wanted was making the most chocolaty chocolate brownie that ever made for her pity party.

'Did you know a singer can still be looking like a sidepiece at thirty-three?' Every time she heard that part of the lyrics from 'A&W' her brittle heart crumble. Since when can song lyrics be so painful? Since when did she relate so much to a song.

Being a "sidepiece" might still be better than whatever kind of hell Daniel was in. Because Daniel was even more pathetic than "the other woman" or "the sidepiece". "The other woman" could at least have the person she loves, even if only for a moment. But Daniel could only admire the person she loved from a distance. Even that person didn't know if she had feelings for him.

The man she loved was spending his summer break on the Mediterranean Sea with his girlfriend. He was dancing with his beautiful and perfect girlfriend at a beautiful resort with amazing view. Remembering this put a heavy feeling in Daniel's chest. She wanted to lie down on the floor and cry her heart out. A little bit dramatic, she knew.

Daniel should unfollow Max and Kelly's instagram accounts. Seeing their insta story updates only makes things worse for Daniel. But that would bring up questions in people's minds. Maybe muting them would be enough.

Daniel took out her cell phone and opened Instagram when someone stood beside her and tapped Daniel on the shoulder. If Daniel didn't have good driver reflexes she would have dropped her phone.

"Jeepers! Max, what are you doing here? I thought you were still on vacation." Daniel removed the earphone she was wearing from her left ear.

Max just laughed.

Daniel looked into Max's shopping cart. He brought two big packs of cat litter.

"I came back to Monaco this afternoon. I'm out of litter so I have to buy some. What are you looking for?" Max looked at Daniel's shopping basket. Daniel has put in the eggs, flour and butter she needs for her brownies.

"Cooking chocolate and cocoa powder." Daniel took the closest chocolate and cocoa powder from her.

"What are you going to make?"

"Brownies."

Daniel looked at Max. Max was wearing a hat but Daniel knew that under the hat Max's normally brown hair had now turned blonde due to the Mediterranean summer sun. Max's facial skin also had a golden glow with a little hint of red on his cheeks. Seeing Max felt like looking directly at the sun, but it wasn't daniel's eyes that ached, it was her heart.

"I should go home now. Bye!"

Max held Daniel by the shoulders.

"Daniel, are you okay? You look tired?"

"Gee, thanks, Max." Daniel replied sarcastically.

Of course Max looked at daniel like she was not okay. Daniel was only wearing a hoodie and pajama bottoms, her hair in messy bun. Daniel usually still wears nice clothes and light makeup when she leaves her house, but she didn't have the energy or will to do any of that.

"I'm having a lot on my mind." Daniel wanted to hide from Max's eyes.

That blue eyes looked curious.

"I thought you were going to Perth for summer break."

Max took Daniel's shopping basket and put it in his cart.

"Let me come with you. I don't want you to be alone now. You don't look well."

Daniel did not protest. Who was she to say no to Max after not seeing him for almost a month. She followed Max to the self checkout. She stood behind max and studied the man's broad back.

"Do you need anything else?" Ask Max before they get to self checkout.

Daniel just shook her head. For a while she let herself listen to Lana while looking at Max. Max turned his back on Daniel, he wouldn't be able to see Daniel's pathetic face.

........

Arriving home, Daniel connected her cell phone to the sound system in her kitchen. She put the coffee mug and plate she used earlier into the sink. She also wiped down her kitchen island. Daniel was a little relieved she had cleaned out her apartment last night, at least Max wouldn't have seen her house in such a mess.

Max put her groceries on the kitchen island which had been wiped clean. Max had taken off the jacket and hat he was wearing. Now he sat on the barstool and watched Daniel without saying anything. Only lana's voice was heard between them.

Daniel took off the hoodie she was wearing and also her sweatpants and just left them bunch up on her bed. Now she was only wearing her merch t-shirt and cotton shorts. She didn't care. Max knew her for very long time, of course Max has seen Daniel in a worse condition than now.

Daniel opened her fridge and took out a can of redbull, she also took out the brownie recipe which she attached to the fridge using a piece of decorative magnet. She passed the redbull can to max who opened it immediately.

"I didn't know you could bake." Max said as he took a sip of his redbull.

Daniel took out the cake ingredients they had bought on the kitchen counter. He also took sliced almonds, chocochips and chocolate paste from the refrigerator.

"After becoming a test driver I had a lot of free time, Max. So I tried new things."

Max unknowingly touched on a sensitive topic for Daniel. One of the things that made it difficult for Daniel to fall asleep at night.

Becoming a Redbull development driver was not an easy thing for Daniel. Of course Redbull is a big team to be reckoned with, being part of Redbull is also an achievement but she had a dream to be able to compete in the grand prix. Became the first female driver since 1978. That dream was completely fading.

Daniel even had to fight with her teeth and nails to cling to that empty dream. Maybe she should had let go of her ridiculous dreams after turning 30. Moved on with dignity, return to Australia and settle down for good.

Before she could cry in front of Max, Daniel turned around and took the scales from one of the drawers. Daniel weighed all the ingredients she needed. Flour. Cocoa powder. Sugar. Butter. She chopped the cooking chocolate before weighing it.

"Aren't you happy, Daniel?"

"Do I look unhappy?" ask Daniel.

"Yes." Max answered quickly and honestly. "It was like you were about to cry."

"Like I said before, I've got a lot on my mind."

"What's wrong? Are you sick? How is your family?"

"Is it because of the money? Do you have financial problems so you can't go back to Australia during the break?" Max asked so quickly. Letting out of question after question is like releasing arrows.

Daniel took a large glass bowl and put the ingredients in for the batter. She wanted to whipped the batter manually. She wanted to feel her arm muscles got tired. She wanted to feel a little bit of muscle pain so that the pain in her heart would lessen.

Daniel beat the eggs and sugar using a medium sized whisk. After that he put the sifted flour and cocoa powder into the mix.

"Say something, Daniel. You can tell me anything. If you want to, of course."

Max looked at Daniel with his blue eyes. Blue maldives eyes.

Max was everything daniel wasn't. Male, young, successful.

"I'm fine, my family too. I have money, Redbull pays me well."

"So, what's going on?"

"I'm going through some kind of a crisis maybe. Like a quarter life crisis but in my 30s."

"I will cry if I talk about this."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with crying. Daniel, it's just me. You can cry if you want."

"Max, I don't know where to start. I have too much on my mind."

"Are you happy in Monaco?"

Daniel thought for a moment. Is she happy here? Does she feel happy coming home to an empty house? Everyone she knew slowly began to leave this place to make a new start, something serious, more precious, something they build brick by brick, something they would die for.

"I don't think so. I've been feeling isolated lately. I'm far from my family. My friends aren't here anymore. Every day I see only strangers."

Daniel put down her batter, washed her hands and sat beside Max.

"I feel left out. It's not that I want to- I don't know how to explain it."

"Just slowly, take your time."

She took a deep breath, a shaky one.

"I feel stupid for clinging to my dream of becoming a driver while we all know my chances are so small. Now I'm 34 years old, my dream has failed and I have nothing."

Daniel felt how her tears spilled out. So warm on her skin. Salty as they flowed past her speaking lips.

Max stood up and put his arm around her. Warping her in a warm comforting hug.

"So you want to leave the f1? Build a family?"

She nodded. "Leaving f1, yes. Starting a family doesn't seem like it. Too late."

"Of course it's not too late, you're still 34 years old."

"He already has a family." Daniel whispered into Max's chest. Her voice was small.

"Huh?"

"He's already build his own family." Daniel said louder. "He has a beautiful family. He has a beautiful woman, always perfect beside him. How can I compete with his girl, I look like- I'm so boring compared to her. And also a beautiful child." Daniel was crying so hard, letting everything out. Opened the flood gate. Drenching Max's shirt with her tears.

That was a relief. Saying it out loud gave her bruised heart a sense of freedom. Just like how her therapist said 'talking is fixing half of the problem, you can decompress negative emotion by talking'.

"It is not true, Daniel. You are beautiful. You are talented. You are smart."

God, She didn't want it to end. She wanted to buried in Max's arms forever. Enveloped by his perfume and warmth.

"Whoever he is, he'd be so stupid if he missed you."

Daniel let go of her hug. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt. She felt her eyes begin to swell.

"Who's he?"

She was silent.

"Do I know him?"

"I guess."

"Nico?"

"Kevin?"

"Daniil?"

"No, Max. Don't make me say it. Don't make me admit anything, now."

"Daniil?" Max whispered. He was quiet enough as if talking to himself.

"I didn't want him to know. It is so pathetic. I don't want anyone to find it out."

Max just stood there. Eyes focused on his own hand. Deep in his tough, like he was trying to solve this little puzzle.

Daniel needed an escape. "Sorry your shirt got wet. Let me get you a new one. I have an oversized shirt that will fit you." She said in a too happy tone.

Daniel ran to her guest room, where she kept her stash of unsold merch. She should withdraw all of her stock merch when she no longer competing and joined redbull. She took a larger version of the shirt she was wearing. XL, she was hoping it would fit.

It's a little gross not to wash new clothes before wearing them, but bacteria won't survive in that t-shirt. The t-shirt had been stored for more than 1 year, of course no microorganism could survive that long without nutrients.

"Do you have time to wait for me to finish the brownies? Or is Kelly waiting for you and the cat litter?" Daniel gave the shirt to Max.

Max didn't hesitate to change his clothes in front of Daniel. He took off his t-shirt and exposing his slightly golden skin.

Daniel knew that Max always looks handsome when he wears black clothes. But Max wearing daniel's merch which is black? Damn, something churned in Daniel's heart.

"I can stay a little longer. I wonder what your brownies will taste like."

"Daniel, can you change the song. If you keep listening to sad songs like this, your mood will still be sad."

Daniel changed her playlist. She selects a random playlist from her spotify. She returned to mixing the batter and hoped that everything would be better tomorrow.

That day, she booked more appointments with her therapist while eating freshly baked brownies.

#maxiel #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #girl!Daniel #f1 rpf #maxiel fic #my fic

70 notes · View notes

chloe-caulfield94 · 2 months

Text

The demonic bargain of the Storm

I think that the most accurate interpretation of Max's nightmare in general and the character of Other Max in particular is that it symbolizes an internal struggle of Max against her fear, self-doubt and self-loathing. I think that interpretation most likely corresponds to what the writers intended and is most firmly rooted in the game.

Having said that, I think there's also a different interpretation that fits the events of the game quite well. Not a psychological, but a metaphysical interpretation of Max's nightmare and the final choice. In which Other Max is not just a figment of Max's mind and the Storm is not just a meteorological phenomenon. Rather, they are both facets of an independent, conscious and malicious entity. An entity of the kind that we usually call demons.

Now, one might say that a demon would be out of place in Life is Strange. Would it really be, though? In Season 1 and BtS there's plenty of metaphysical events already.

Max's reality bending power that despite the best efforts of Max, Chloe and Warren cannot be explained away using "chaos theory". Chaos theory could only be used to explain the reverberating effects of rewinding time. But it most certainly doesn't explain how Max is manipulating time with a flick of her wrist.

Rachel's fire and/or wind based power, which was only teased and never thoroughly explored, but definitely seemed to escape any rational explanation.

Numerous sightings of various "spirit animals".

Rachel's ghost, in the form a doe, guiding Max to Rachel's grave.

Chloe's visions of William, which may have been just nightmares, but may also have been her communing with the dead.

The blue butterfly, which may have been a guardian angel, or another spirit animal, or something else entirely, but most certainly wasn't just an insect.

Life is Strange has always had a strong undercurrent of spiritualism and mysticism. Just listen to one of Samuel's talks.

So with all that already present in the game, is a demon really that far out?

Let's imagine that just like Samuel said, there's a powerful spirit lingering in Arcadia Bay. However, that being is anything but benevolent. You could call it a demon, you could call it a vengeful local deity. Maybe it has always been always hostile. Or maybe it is just a reflection of the hearts and souls of Arcadia Bay's dwellers. And as the dwellers became more and more hateful, cruel and greedy, they tainted the town's spirit too, making it malevolent.

Whatever it was and however it came to be the way it was in October of 2013, the spirit had acquired a taste for evil.

And the dwellers of Arcadia Bay provided a steady supply of it. Sadists kidnapping and tormenting others for their sick "art". Bullies driving others to the brink with their hatred. Drug dealers preying on minors.

But evil acts done by evil people quickly become predictable. Boring.

And that's when Max came back to town. Someone unique. Someone with a beautiful heart. Full of love, strength and courage, even if Max herself didn't realize it yet.

Just like Jefferson wanted to turn the "innocence" of his victims into "corruption", to taint, despoil, contaminate, brand them, the spirit wanted to do the same to Max. It wanted to empty her heart of love. To break her strength. To replace her courage with doubt. And that would be achieved by tempting Max, the genuinely good, kind and well-meaning person, into commiting the worst sin of all.

In the interpretation I'm proposing, the final choice represents Max being tempted to sin. The sin she is being tempted to commit is the rejection of love. Just like love (both romantic and platonic) is the root of everything good in the world, the rejection of love is the ultimate sin, in which all other sins are contained - hatred, greed, cruelty, disdain. Max is tempted to reject Chloe's love, to take back her own love, to erase it, to make it so that it never even happened.

One could say it's unfair to maintain that sacrificing Chloe would be a sin on Max's part, because she would do it to save the town. But that's the whole point! Temptation is not about presenting someone with a choice that is obviously evil, both at its core and at the surface. Temptation is about presenting someone with a choice that is evil in its essence, but is dressed up as something else. Usually it's dressed up as something alluring, something pleasurable.

But the best kind of temptation (and by "best" I mean the most insidious and most effective) way of tempting is to present something evil as something that would lead to "a greater good". To present something evil as a "necessary evil". To make someone consciously commit an act of evil by inducing in them a mistaken belief that there's no other way forward but to commit this act of evil.

That's precisely what Max is being tempted with. She is told to become an "everyday hero". To save her hometown. But to do that, she must commit the ultimate sin - reject love. This is truly a demonic bargain.

In my mind, by tearing up the photograph, Max defeats her tempation. She sees through the rotten, sadistic deal she has been offered. She chooses not to commit an act of evil. Rejecting love and friendship, taking back the hope you've given someone, leaving them to die alone, abandoned and afraid - it's always an act of evil. Always a sin. No matter what it would accomplish on the physical plane.

There is no such thing as a necessary evil. EVIL IS NEVER NECESSARY. And a lesser evil is evil still. You are only responsible for the things you choose. So if you choose evil, you are responsible for it. Even if it's a lesser evil, even if you've deluded yourself into thinking that it's a necessary one.

If you're presented with a choice to stop a greater evil at the cost of commiting a lesser evil and you refuse to do so, that doesn't make you responsible for the greater evil. On the contrary, it shows you chose no evil at all.

#max caulfield #chloe price #pricefield #life is strange #lis #bae vs bay

20 notes · View notes

disregardcanon · 5 months

Text

thinking about a npmd characters yellowjackets au and oh boy it's fun

okay so the premise is, the hatchetfield high school nighthawk football team is going to nationals. i'm pretty sure that doesn't exist for american high school football but we're suspending disbelief.

solomon lauter is trying to build up goodwill with the community for this election cycle, so not only does he charter a private plane for the football team, he makes his daughter go with. HE doesn't have time to go to seattle and it's not like most people will see him there anyway, but if he puts his daughter on the plane with them and says oh look my daughter is so kind and supportive! she's taking time away from HER own schoolwork and HER own life to support our fighting nighthawks! what a kind and involved citizen she is!

and then of course he pressures her teachers to just. let her off the hook for activities in classes that week. because she's such a kiiinnnddd person who's supporting the football team.

richie, of course, is essential for an excursion such as this. he's zeke the fighting nighthawk! he's on that plane. ruth has some overlap with misty quigley that i find interesting, so we're making her the equipment manager. this is half to get her on the plane and half because i think she'd use that as an excuse to be a pervert. like oooohhh i'm so sorry! i didn't think there would be boys CHANGING in here right now! myyyy mistake.

max and the football team and brenda and the cheer squad are all there. now however do we get our dearest spankoffski on that plane? (ruth says that she needs help with equipment management duties and pete's already the salutorian of the class... so she's able to sell him just missing this second to last week of school alright to the teachers. he doesn't really WANT to, but steph, who he's been bonding with since she got him to help her cheat and then actually helped her study... asks him to. because she says she's going to be bored out of her mind without someone to hang out with... and he's only HUMAN, okay?)

now how do we get grace temperance chastity on a plane full of horny teenagers for an activity that she doesn't do? why making her the president of the FCA (fellowship of christian athletes) of course! she is the self-assigned chaperone of such an important and potentially very horny and drug-ridden activity in such a den of sin (seattle). SHE is the only thing standing between the students of hatchetfield high and total anarchy. as valedictorian (peter, if you just applied yourself and maybe went to chuuurrrcchhh you might have beaten me! grace will you just shut up-) she is not worried about her grades in this penultimate week of school. oh BOY was she wrong.

they of course crash in the canadian rockies. the coaches die, and we're left with absolute fucking anarchy. everyone save our favorite quintet listen to max for awhile as he dictates the ways that heeee, max jagerman, think things should be run. it's bad! it doesn't work! they're gonna fucking die!!!!!!!

jagerman is more worried about how to keep his power and where steph keeps disappearing to than figuring out how to stay alive in case of... not getting rescued.

ruth has GAD and is just freaking the fuck out in the corner, richie is doing the same, and pete is trying to figure out. how the fuck to survive in case of no rescue coming. steph's on team I Think We Should Prepare, Jesus Christ! and grace enjoys survival situations so she's over here. she also thinks that the act of god might be that they're stuck out here and have to build a new jerusalem (tehehe)

the combined powers of steph's charisma and kindness, pete's problem-solving, and grace's intensity and sureness in herself, they convince the rest of the group that they found a safer spot... a lake, where they might find water and food and not die here by the plane while waiting for a rescue that might not come.

the rest of the group listens, showing the first crack in max jagerman's power, and he has a very ugly blowup but eventually follows.

he IS going to die out there. he IS going to be the first to die out there. and they are going to eat him :) but it's also max jagerman who's in the narrative role of jackie. so he's gonna haunt this fucking narrative! OHHHHH YEAAAAAAHHHHHHH

other tidbits: max deciding to for real pursue grace is mainly about trying to break her power base because he's pissed she's the one everyone's listening to now, but he also... does think that's hot. :3

grace IS going full girl-prophet. lottie tempered her girl-prophet ways in season 2 because she realized that things were going wrong... grace thinks she's god's anointed so she is not going to do that. not at all.

stephanie HAS got a gun. a hunting she will go. a hunting she will take pete. (we're out here starving in the woods and you think that pete and i shouldn't... sleep together? with fucking CONDOMS!?!?! what is your prOBLEM? he's a loser and you're COOL! we're not in fucking high school, max! grow! up!) they're getting some of that Narrative Conflict With The Superstitions that defines natalie's character.

ruth WOULD find the porno mags she WOULD show everyone and when grace tries to confiscate them for Jesus Reasons ruth would find one to squirrel away just for herself. i am also assigning ruth butcher because i think she could handle the guts, and also.. i'm sorry the idea of ruth throwing girls' nights with jagerman's corpse in the freezing cold meat shed just works in my brain.

i'm gonna give richie van's How Do We Make Sense of All These Times I Almost Died and this ABSOLUTE Bullshit!??!! plot line, along with assigning him group morale and Person Who Tells the Stories.

when it gets to the card pull grace WILL be rigging it to get rid of "dirty dudes". jason gets got first. and grace keeps giving lautski and ruth cryptic warnings about cleaning up their sexual act or else and they're just like hahaha i'm in danger...

somehow grace thinks that this is all compatible with her christianity! i love her <3

#npmd #hatchetfield #yellowjackets #npmd aus #lautski #grace chastity #stephanie lauter #peter spankoffski #max jagerman #richie lipschitz #ruth fleming

42 notes · View notes

theharddeck · 2 years

Text

out of the blue, clear sky (chapter one) // Jake Seresin x Reader

Pairing: hangman x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: what's a bit of state rivalry between pilots? You and Hangman see each other in a new light after a late night at a dive bar, and this started as a one shot, then suddenly it was 2k words of country karaoke, and now I want to write a fluffy love story

Warnings: 18+, minors please DNI -- this is a 5 chapter deal and this one is pretty PG, but it'll ratchet up to E in a later chapter, and I don't want to mislead anyone. In the interim, there's swearing, but yeah mostly flagging this because something smutty this way comes

Length: 3.2k

A/N: This is self-indulgent to the max, and payoff is late in coming, but I hope y’all enjoy it lol. I regret to inform you that Sold (The Grundy Country Auction Incident) is required listening before reading; it’s just important to note that it’s a fun/funny song, not a sultry one. Jake’s song is “Carried Away” by George Strait, also a delight, but that one is sweet.

tagging the usuals: @peakyrogers@winterrebel04 @blue-aconite and the folks who convinced me to post: @bioodforbiood @et-homephone

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five

Should you have been out this late, the night before you had drills in this morning? No.

Should you be taking anything anyone said at this hour seriously? No.

Were you all still going to be defensive when Bradley decided to be coastal elitist about something? Absolutely, yes.

“Man, we were having such a good night,” Fanboy muttered, as you, Bob, and Hangman were immediately up in arms.

“You can just say you don’t like when women have feelings, Bradford,” you said. (A grossly reductive accusation, to be sure, but if Rooster was going to generalize, you weren’t going to take the high road.)

Coyote snorted, taking another pull of his beer as Phoenix came back to the table, kicking her feet up on Bob’s lap.

“God, that felt good,” she sighed, holding out a hand and waiting for someone to put a drink into it. “Who’s next?”

“Presumably Hangman,” Bob said, handing her a glass, “to redeem the genre of country music.”

“Nah, I don’t sing,” Jake waved a hand airily, and you knew better than to look at him, but you did anyways.

Normally, you were sober enough to ignore any sorts of feelings that fluttered, unprovoked, in your stomach when you looked at Jake Seresin. He was a pilot like you, you were in the same detachment, it wasn’t going to be something you acted on, you were far from his type anyways…you had a million little rationalizations as to why a crush was impractical, but it persisted nonetheless.

Crushes were inconvenient like that.

This deep into the night, “normally” did not apply.

So you looked at him, sternly reminding yourself to not do anything so dramatic as let your breath catch, or pulse leap.

He didn’t seem nearly as deep in his cups as the rest of the group.

No, of course, he and Phoenix seemed to be the only ones whose eyes were still clear and faces weren’t flushed. In fact, he had the audacity to look as unfairly attractive as he did in the daytime in his uniform, even though you’d all been awake for close to twenty hours now. His blonde hair was mussed, and looked softer than normal, like he’d carded his fingers through it enough that any styling products had relinquished their hold, and it was a damn good look.

You frowned down at your drink, the deep umber liquid not seeming any lower, though you’d been nursing it for half an hour.

“It’s okay,” you said, to distract yourself, more than anything. “Texas doesn’t really count as Country, anyways.”

Mickey tittered, and you felt Jake’s eyes on you, but didn’t trust yourself to look up to meet them.

“Damn straight,” Jake huffed. “Texas was actually–”

“Its own country,” Reuben interrupted, longsuffering.

“For seven whole years,” Bradley continued, “an independent nation all of their own, called…”

“The Republic of Texas,” Javy lifted his glass. “And they were called Texians, actually, not Texans.”

The three of them clinked their glasses together in a cheers, and Jake held up his hands.

“Okay, okay,” he shrugged, nonplussed. “So, I’ve got a lot of state pride, sue me.”

“That’s okay,” Phoenix said, before winking almost imperceptibly at you. “Not like there’s any good country artists from Texas.”

Jake froze. “Okay, now, hang on–”

“Ah, you’re right,” you sighed, grateful for distraction of goading Hangman into singing. “Beyonce took all the musical talent, regardless of genre, and there’s no one left.”

Jake set his bottle down on the table. “That’s bold, coming from someone from Kentucky.”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of Kentucky-born legend Loretta Lynn,” you said calmly.

Jake sputtered. “Loretta–”

“Patty Loveless, too,” Bob said helpfully, and you didn’t know how he knew that, but you were grateful for the WSO’s encyclopedic memory. “And Chris Stapleton, if modern’s your thing.”

Jake gaped at the two of you, then held up a hand to count on his fingers. “Willie Nelson, Garth Brooks, George Strait–”

“Who?” you interrupted, innocently. Your dad had a George Strait cassette he’d played until the tape wore out, but Jake’s eyes widened almost comically.

“Please,” he asked, in the most serious tone you’d heard from him all night, “please, tell me you’re joking.”

Behind him, Reuben had a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh, and you managed to keep your expression wide-eyed and blank, shrugging lightly.

Jake stared at you for a long moment, then he stood up, sharply.

“Cretins,” Jake declared, pointing at you, then around at the group. “All of you!”

And he huffed his way up to the stage.

Phoenix leaned back in her chair to hold out her hand to you, palm up, which you high fived unashamedly as Jake aggressively flipped through the song book.

He punched a code into the machine on the edge of the stage, then dragged a stool to the middle of the stage.

“Evening, everyone,” he said into a mic, and you rolled your eyes as every female spine in the bar straightened, looking towards the stage. It wasn’t lost on you that he’d turned his accent up, as well as donning an air of “aw, shucks,” humility as he settled onto the barstool.

A couple cat calls echoed around the bar, as contemplative guitar strings plucked over the sound system.

“Notttt what I was expecting,” Coyote said under his breath, and Hangman cleared his throat before he started singing.

“I don’t take my whisky to extremes,” Jake sang, looking pointedly at the group of you, with the near empty bottle on the table, and Rooster flipped him off. “I don’t believe in chasing crazy dreams…”

As his voice ran around the bar, tables fell quiet, turning back to the stage. Hangman’s voice, normally more callous than decadent, seemed softer, and the simple lyrics of the song rang like a promise.

“My feet are planted firmly on the ground,” Jake crooned, and that really was the only word for it, an effortless spell none of you had been expecting, “but darlin’, when you come around…”

“Well shit,” Fanboy muttered to the group as Jake went all-in on the chorus, “how are we supposed to make fun of him when he’s actually good?”

Shit indeed.

Because he sounded like someone sweet who would promise forever to a girl on the way back from a Friday Night football game, someone who'd give you their jacket and get you home by 9pm. Some sound tech was conspiring against you, because they dimmed the lights in the bar, a soft spotlight falling onto Jake. And he should’ve looked worse like that, in the dramatic lighting, but it made his jaw seem sharper, his eyes brighter, and if you listened closely, you could hear the sound of every woman in this bar falling a little in love.

They cheered when he finished the chorus, and Hangman was eating it up, wiping his palms on his jeans, and pushing to his feet.

“This has backfired,” Phoenix mumbled, when Jake hopped off the stage, weaving his way through the tables, starting on the next verse.

“We have created a monster,” you agreed.

“No ‘we’ about it,” Javy muttered. “This is all you guys.”

And you supposed it was.

Jake was making his way over to your table, and you steeled yourself for his arrogance, but were still unprepared.

He smirked as he siddled over to Phoenix, and she rolled her eyes but when he held out a hand, she extended hers, and the rest of the audience squealed when he brushed a kiss over the edges of her knuckles.

You winced internally, why did he have to be so handsome?? He got away with stuff like this, and you couldn’t even be mad at him–

He turned to you.

It had to be the whisky, that’s why you felt the weight of his eyes so heavily. The green of them glittered in the spotlight, and a part of you was loyally muttering “asshole” but another part of you felt like giggling with the rest of the bar.

And then he walked towards you.

“I get carried away by the look, by the light in your eyes,” he sang, holding eye contact in a way that had to be indecent. You needed to look away so you could remember how to breathe, but you couldn’t back down, so you tilted your head and raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

Which, of course, he took as a challenge.

“Before I even realize the ride I’m on, baby, I’m long gone,” Jake sang, stepping closer.

He reached for your hand, and if Phoenix could do it, you could too–but he didn’t kiss your hand. No, he lifted it, prompting you to stand and spinning you, like prom. The spotlight had followed him, and you felt it brightening the air around you as he pulled you into it.

“I get carried away, nothing matters, but being with you,” he sang, and instead of letting you wilt back into your seat and out of the light, he dropped your hand around the back of his neck, between the ends of his hair and the top of his shirt, eyes smirking with the challenge, as he continued. “Like a feather flying high up in the sky, on a windy day, I get carried away.”

There was more of the song, you knew that.

But in another, very real sense, you were closer to Hangman than you ever remembered being, close enough to notice his green eyes had flecks of gold in them, and that he had the smallest indentations in the skin along the edges of his eyes, from where his face held the memory of past smiles. And now you knew what his hair felt like between your fingers, and that it wasn’t cologne, he just smelled good.

“I get carried away,” Jake repeated, stepping just a step closer to you, and maybe it made you a coward, but you took a step back. He smirked, victorious, and turned, letting your hand fall back to your side as the spotlight followed him back up to the stage.

Mickey opened his mouth and you glared at him. “Not a word, Fanboy.”

He closed his mouth with a snap, but the rest of the group looked entirely too amused for your comfort.

“Thank you, ladies and gents,” Jake was saying on the stage, dropping into a deep bow and putting the microphone back. “And, uh, Kentucky?”

You looked up at the stage, annoyed to find Jake’s eyes already on you, even through the glare of the spotlight.

“Would love,” he grinned, all teeth, “to see you top that.”

You heard Rooster chuckle, and that, more than anything, had you pushing out of your chair up to the stage.

Jake offered you a hand as you got closer, to help you up the steps and you glowered at him as you took it.

“Thanks, darlin’,” you muttered.

“Anytime, sugar,” he shot back, and you hated that his voice sounded way more unaffected than yours.

You were flipping through the songbook before you realized how impossible this was about to be.

Natasha had already trotted out the ‘fuck all men’ Carrie Underwood play, and Jake had taken the soft and sweet option; you had to do something different. Something in the ‘Chicken Fried’ vein would be funny, but it would also prove Bradley's point; Gretchen Wilson would do the trick, but she wasn’t from Kentucky…

Your eyes fell on a John Michael Montgomery song and you smiled to yourself.

Perfect.

“Hiya, folks,” you said cheerily, going for cutesy rather than borrowing Jake’s bashful routine. A couple girls were glaring at you, having seen Jake serenade you and misinterpreting that familiarity, but you ignored them.

“You’ve got this, babe!” Phoenix called, and you heard Payback and Fanboy clapping loudly.

You gave them a mock curtsy, and waited for the song to pick up.

And boy howdy, did it.

A banjo, loud and proud, curled through the bar and Bob’s eyes lit up, even as Jake’s jaw dropped.

If you could land this, it would be epic.

You heard recognition ripple through the room and someone in the front row started clapping along to the beat. You smiled at them gratefully as the fast tempo whirled around you.

“Well, I went down to the Grundy county auction,” you sang, at an auctioneer’s pace, hopping off the stage and wandering through the crowd like Jake had, “where I saw something I just had to have.”

You’d upped your accent too, and it wasn’t smooth the way Jake’s was, but you knew it didn’t sound half bad in the tenor key.

“My mind told me I should proceed with caution,” you sang, getting closer to your table, and holding out a hand to Natasha, like Jake had, “but my heart said go ahead and place a bid on that.”

She stood, highly amused, and you twirled her into you so her back was pressed against the front of your body. Her hand slid up your legs as she put on a show, loyal like you knew she would be, and you could focus on the rapid fire lyrics as the bar cheered for Nat’s dancing skills.

"And I said, “Hey pretty lady, won't you give me a sign? I'd give anything to make you mine o' mine; I'll do your biddin' and be at your beck and call."

Natasha was laughing, you could feel her upper body shaking but she rolled her hips and you went with her and was Coyote miming throwing money at the two of you, so you leaned into it.

You finished the chorus in a rush, people whooped, the sultry mood Jake had said absolutely decimated by the ridiculous patter.

You spun Phoenix back out and she sank gracefully back into a seat as you walked around the group of your friends, their boots stomping supportively. As you sang the next verse, you avoided looking at Jake, knowing you needed to keep your momentum and circling back to kneel in front of Bob dramatically.

The sweet WSO blushed at the attention, and the bar whooped when you crooked a finger under his chin to tilt his face up to you, before pointing out his ‘ruby red lips, blonde hair, blue eyes’ that matched the line in chorus.

“If you know it, sing along,” you yelled into the mic before pointing it to the ceiling as you weaved your way back to the stage, relieved beyond belief when the rest of the inebriated crowd joined you in singing the last chorus.

It was a mercy, because you needed to breathe.

You stepped back up onto the stage, having caught your breath, and ending the song on a yodel that had everyone laughing. Were they in love with you—no. But they seemed entertained, and you’d take that; you bowed deeply as the bar cheered, blowing a smug kiss at Hangman when you came back up.

Which was a mistake.

Because the look on his face was something you hadn’t expected to see, an expression that wavered between respect and something you didn’t recognize, and you weren’t prepared to find out. A moment later, it was gone, chased away by a dimpled smile and the tipping of an imaginary hat as Jake broke his gaze away from you.

What the hell was that?

You fiddled with the mic, stepping down off the stage and nodding to a couple folks who lifted their drinks as you made your way back to the group. They cheered for you good naturedly, and gave another curtsy as you found your seat.

“Who knew she had pipes?” Payback teased, uncapping a fresh beer and passing it to you.

“Anything for the virtue of the Bluegrass state,” you demured, taking the beer gratefully.

Someone from another group was up on the stage, you heard a phone ring distantly, and the normal din of the bar creeped back in as the adrenaline seeped out of your system.

You were sure you were all going to regret this, in the morning.

Well, most of you.

Natasha still looked fine and Jake…

Jake wasn’t at the table.

You frowned slightly, trying to keep your expression neutral as you leaned forward in your seat, looking around the room to find the Texan. He wasn’t in your row, he wasn’t at the bar getting an order…

Your eyes found him by the bar’s entrance, holding his phone to his head with one hand, the other blocking his ear. He was pacing, and when he turned back towards the group of you, his forehead was wrinkled in an uncharacteristic frown.

His eyes met yours.

For the second time tonight, you read something in his face that you knew you hadn’t been meant to see.

Jake’s jaw tightened and he turned away, pacing again. When he got closer to the door, he reached for it, but a moment later, his hand was back by his ear, blocking out sound as he listened intently. You saw him start for the door again, but each time needed to pull back to listen more closely to whoever was on the other end of the line.

You didn’t plan to head towards him, but your feet had you halfway across the bar before you realized you weren’t in your row. As you got closer, you could feel the tension radiating off of him in waves, even if you couldn’t hear what he was saying.

When you opened the door for him, Jake’s gaze felt searching.

You held the heavy door, pressing yourself against the wall of the bar so Jake could go by. As he edged by you, his eyes flitted back to yours briefly.

“Thank you,” he mouthed, and he waited for your chin to dip in a nod of acknowledgement before he was turning, jogging towards his truck. You watched him struggle with his keys in the dim parking lot light, and then pinch the bridge of his nose as he realized he couldn’t drive, not like this. He turned towards the intersection, waving as a cab came into view.

“What was that about?”

You jumped at the question, surprised to find Bob standing next to you.

“I don’t know,” you said, uncertainly. A cab pulled up to the curb and Jake folded his long body into it, the phone still pressed to his ear.

You realized Bob was holding the door for you, having quietly leaned up against it to take some of the weight so you didn’t have to.

“We should probably head back, right?” you asked, and Bob nodded, slowly.

“Early morning, all that,” he agreed.

You drew in a quick breath, before smiling automatically, following Bob back inside. As you gathered your things, closed at your portion of the tab, and fielded compliments from strangers, you weren’t certain if it was the night air or the expression on Hangman’s face as he’d left so quickly that had you feeling suddenly sober.

Chapter Two

#jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #as always my tag list is v small so if you want to be on/off it lmk #how are we feeling about a chapter fic??? never posted on here instead of ao3 #so that's nervewracking #ahhhh pls tell me if you like it haha #misskielwrites

247 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 6 months

Text

Vampire Waltz - ch 7

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Reader being self-conscious as usual. Some conversation about blood/vampire eating habits. But mostly this is just unabashed fluff and flirting. Summary: Allison helps you get ready for your first date with Max, and as scared as you are, you are equally excited for the night ahead. Notes: For our chapter banner this week: the White Horse Tavern! A real and very lovely place in Newport, RI. May or may not actually be owned by vampires, though...I'll have to get back to y'all on that...

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

It’s cute, utterly charming really, the way that you are currently freaking out in your bedroom. Max isn’t trying to eavesdrop, but you are being so loud that he can’t help but listen. Especially at first, when he wanted to make sure that you weren’t hurt. After the initial scream, he realizes you were panicking about the date he had formally asked you on. Deciding that visiting the dance studios deserved a little bit of flair. He had asked you if he could take you to dinner beforehand. You’re his soulmate, you deserve effort. Something that you’ve obviously received precious little from by the previous asshole in your life. For once, Max wants to make sure that you completely forget about that douchebag. Never jealous of anyone’s previous lovers, he wants to make you realize that you were just having a bad dream for the past ten plus years. Now you are awake, now you can enjoy yourself.

"Alli, you can't be serious?" Nearly clutching the dress that she brought over for you to borrow in two shaky hands, you look over the skimpy black number with trepidation. This is your fault. You know that. You're the one who went to the cheese shop at the end of her shift this afternoon to get some advice. She had sent you home to pull out your most comfortable pair of dancing shoes and swore to provide the perfect dress if you just promised to trust her. And you do trust her. She has never given you any reason not to. But this dress is short.

“Come on, it’s perfect!” She’s grinning from ear to ear, ecstatic for you and your date. It makes perfect sense now why Max had been hovering around you as a bat. You’re his soulmate. It’s so romantic, she wants to cry. “You’ll look amazing and Max will be panting to get under it!”

“It’s just the first date,” You remind her, nervous at even the mention of any kind of intimacy. Not because you don’t want Max — but maybe instead because you do and you haven’t felt that in so many years.

“The first date with your soulmate.” She reminds you with a smirk. “He’s supposed to be your perfect match, so it’s okay to put out on the first date.” She teases.

“He’s also my housemate, so if I do and that’s all he wanted from me it’s going to be awkward as hell.” It’s not that you think that of Max. It’s that the voice of doubt in your head is still loud and clear over everything else. “I’m just... I’m nervous.”

“Do you honestly think he would have joined a coven of witches at a Mabon celebration if all he wanted was the good-good?” She asks, arching a brow curiously.

“Well…no.” You snort, shaking your head at Allison. “And if you ever call it that again I won’t tell you if it actually happens.”

Laughing, Allison waggles her brows. The term was meant to disarm you and it worked. “Fine.” She huffs. “But I want details. Vampires are supposed to be incredible lovers.”

“You could always find out for yourself.” Aware of what Max had mentioned about their superior hearing, and unsure if Eddie is at home at the moment, you lower your voice measurably. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.”

"What?" Her lip immediately goes between her teeth and she blushes furiously. "We are just — you know — uh, collaborating for the masquerade."

“Mmhmm.” Drawing out the sound incredulously, you grin again and eye the dress in her hands. “Tell me everything and I will try the dress on. Just to see.”

"He's nice." She hands you the dress in exchange for information. "I like talking to him. He's — well, he's just so...human."

“He is very nice.” The short dress has a beautiful, flowy skirt that will be great for dancing and you disappear into your dressing room with it with trepidation. “And he likes you! It’s even obvious to me and my observation skills suck.”

"Please...." She rolls her eyes, even if you can't see her. "I think he's just being nice because he wants to join the coven."

“If that was the case, he’d be making nice with everyone, not meeting you in town to take you out for coffee.” Having found out that that was where Eddie was on the night that you and Max had been left to eat dinner together, you found that there was no possible way to be upset about it. Things with Max are…they’re moving forward in a way that makes you nervous and giddy. And whatever is growing between Eddie and Allison is obviously mutual.

She huffs and bites her lip again. "We have a lot in common and I enjoy talking with him. Even though he's been in college forever, he's still enthusiastic about learning. He's even talking about coming out to the farm."

“That sounds like fun!” Finding the zipper on Allison’s strappy black dress takes a second, but you’re able to exchange the one you’ve been wearing all day today for the one she brought for you to borrow. The deep v-neckline and cutouts in the back are more skin than you’ve shown in years but you know instinctively that it’s the kind of thing Max will love. Fashionable and daring. The kind of girl he deserves even if it’s not the kind of girl you feel like. “Okay…um…I’m coming out.”

Allison gasps as you emerge from your dressing room, nodding immediately. "It's perfect, you can't convince me otherwise. Look at yourself!" She squeals as she guides you towards a mirror.

"Kind of weird that we're the exact same size..." Even standing directly in front of the mirror you can't bring yourself to look up. To look at yourself in any kind of positive way whatsoever. It's like it's been beaten out of you as if you were a stray dog. "It fits well."

"I'd be lucky if I still fit in it." She huffs. "Too much cheese. But you, you've got such a perfect figure to pull this off."

"No such thing as 'too much cheese'," you gripe, shuffling slightly in front of the full—length mirror. You're just staring at your shoes and fighting with yourself to figure out if you're brave enough to look up. "Do you...think he'll like it?" If he does, it doesn't matter what you think anyway. Max's opinion is the only one that matters.

"I think he will love it." She assures you, reaching up and touching your shoulders. "It will restart his non-beating heart."

"Apparently only one thing can actually do that." Digging into your armoire for a sweater, you come out with one that is midnight blue and black with little gold stars stitched all over it. It's still cold out, after all, and this will help you to feel a little less exposed.

"What is that?" She's always been interested in the dynamics of vampirism but she's too polite to ask Eddie to answer her questions.

"Apparently..." Clearing your throat slightly and pulling your sweater tight around your shoulders, you glance up and meet Allison's eyes in the mirror. "A kiss from their soulmate."

"Ohhhh now that's the most romantic thing that I've ever heard." She moans, softening visibility and looking amost wistful at the thought. "Come on, Dolly, that's just so romantic."

"I told Max that it sounded like something out of a romance novel." Which is a sentiment that you stand by very firmly. "Who knows how true it is. But it's sweet to imagine."

"Maybe you will find out tonight." She offers with a sincere smile, not wanting to tease you. "I really think he likes you, Dolly. All that time as a bat, visiting you? Being near you. He was drawn to you."

"I still can't believe that was him." She knows all about those nighttime visits of course. You hadn't thought it was a big deal to tell her about the little bat that visited you, but now you see that it was all so much more important than you realized. And she had known the entire time, but never made you feel silly for not guessing. How could you?

"It's sweet." She hums, smiling again. "I want to see him again like a bat. It was so cute to see him on your shoulder, cuddling into your neck."

“He said he didn’t mind transforming again sometimes if I wanted him to.” Suddenly you feel like you should be busy again, and you move to your jewelry box out of nerves. “He knows that I found it…comfortable. But we might get a pet for the house.”

"Okay, so Max would change into a bat to comfort you, and you still wonder if he likes you?" After spending time with you, she's learned of your ex and she understands your trepidation. "I don't think you should."

“I just…” You sigh, feeling your shoulders start to curl, and you take two long breaths in and out to prevent it. “I hope I’m more than a novelty to him, that’s all. His life is so long. It’s forever and I’m not saying he has to propose or anything crazy. I just…I would like to think a person should feel important to their soulmate. I haven’t been important to anybody since my parents died.”

"You know how long Cookie lived." Allison reminds you. "You could do the same. She—" She pauses for a moment. "Her decision to no longer prolong her life was a very serious one. But until she stopped taking her soulmate's blood, she looked no older than forty."

“Why did she stop?” That has never truly made sense to you. If someone was happy with their eternal life, why on earth would they give it up?

She sighs softly. "It— a very power spell was cast. Meant to last through time until death." She explains quietly. "It was the only way to break it and it was important enough to her to break it."

“What sort of a witch would cast something that depends on life or death?” The idea strikes you as positively cruel, but of course you can’t know what the spell was or the circumstances.

"One that knew that her soulmate could provide her with immortality." Allison explains. "It was...done in anger. Hopefully regretted, but nothing I could find could break it. Cookie spent years trying to break it."

“That’s awful.” As angry as you had ever been in your life at certain people or certain circumstances, you can’t ever imagine that type of anger. Not to mention you’ve never done much spell work beyond lighting a candle or floating an object across a room. And you’re woefully out of practice at even those.

"It was...complicated." Allison hums, "from what I've heard. I never got to meet the person." She knows more of the story, Cookie confided in her in an effort to find a way to break the spell, but she wouldn't betray the woman's confidence, even in death. Especially when it was his place to explain.

“I hope that everything worked out the way she wanted it to, then. Even if she isn’t here to see it.” Concentrating on your jewelry box is the best you can do and not get upset for no reason — but something about the whole situation just makes you overwhelmingly sad.

Allison bites her lip but just makes a non-committal sound. “So where is Max taking you for dinner?” Wanting to change the subject, but also genuinely curious as to your first date details.

“He said there was a vampire-owned restaurant on the island that was really nice.” When you had insisted that dinner wasn’t necessary because he didn’t need to eat food, he had come back with the alternative of a restaurant that also discreetly served blood to discerning patrons. That had been enough to make you agree. “It’s…a tavern? The White Horse Tavern?”

She’s impressed. Whistling lowly, she nods. “It’s only the oldest tavern in the country.” She tells you with a grin. “Super swanky, so it sounds like Max is wanting to do things right. Dinner, dancing….” She sighs. “Sounds incredibly romantic for a first date.”

“He really…he doesn’t have to make a big deal out of it.” And you had told Max that, but he had only shaken his head and told you the restaurant would be perfect. “It’s very romantic, but I guess I’m just…a little worried I won’t live up to it. And I would hate to disappoint him.”

“Why would you disappoint him?” She asks. “He knows you. This isn’t a blind date.”

The irony of that observation makes you laugh dryly, and you turn to look at her instead of searching for earrings. "It was supposed to be," you tell her honestly. "We were supposed to go on a blind date. In college."

“Really?” Her eyes widen. “What happened? Why didn’t you go? You mean you could have known Max this entire time?”

“He had an emergency that night. He couldn’t come.” There is such an ache in your heart realizing that — if things had been different — he could have graduated as a human and you could have been together for ten years already. “Everything could have been so different.”

“Do you—” she pauses for a moment. “Do you resent him for that? Because of being with your ex?”

“No.” Surprisingly enough, that answer is easy. It isn’t Max’s fault that Derek was in that bar that night. He had his life turned upside down in a completely different way. “I just wonder what the second chance will be like.”

“While Max can be cocky, he’s also more mature than he would have been ten years ago.” Allison tells you. “So I think it will be very good for both of you.”

"I hope so." That hope is a long buried feeling for you, and while you feel silly for admitting it...Allison has never been anything but welcoming, friendly, and supportive with you. She's the friend you had dearly missed having for all these years. "I'm different than I used to be, too. I just hope we're not too different."

“Eddie told me that Max, uh, he had a second chance.” Allison admits. “That he lost all his scars? So if you had changed too much, wouldn’t your birthmark never reappear?”

Startled by the solid logic of that thought, you almost reel backward, standing up a little straighter in surprise. "I guess...I never thought of it like that."

She smiles, happy that she could reassure you in some small way. “Then remember that the universe chose you as his soulmate, twice.”

"What about your soulmate?" She's never talked about it before but you feel like this is the time to ask if there is ever going to be one.

“I don’t think I have one.” She admits quietly. “I’ve never had scars, birthmarks or anything.” She shrugs. “Some people don’t.”

"Maybe your soulmate just didn't want to mark you up because they already know you're perfect just as you are." Of course, Allison is right. Some people just don't have soulmates. But that kind of loneliness is not something you would ever wish on anyone as kind as she is.

“Who knows?” She’s very doubtful of that, but it’s sweet that you would want to comfort her. “It just means that I get to enjoy everyone else finding their soulmates.”

“And you can make your own decision for your life. Whatever that decision turns out to be.” There is a matching set of jewelry in your box — a necklace and earrings that all bear golden crescent moon pendants with a little blue stone hanging like a star inside it — and you pick those out to wear tonight. “My parents weren’t soulmates, you know. They just loved each other. Fiercely and with everything they had. Just because someone isn’t your soulmate doesn’t mean they’re not going to be good for you.”

“They weren’t?” She asks curiously, tilting her head in shock.

“No.” The earrings slide into place easily and the matching necklace is a comfort, making you feel a little less exposed in the outfit you’re wearing. Makeup is the last touch. “They met at my mother’s work. She was a librarian and Dad was doing research for his doctoral thesis. She dropped a book that she was trying to get off a high shelf and he picked it up for her. That was that. They were inseparable for the rest of their lives.”

“That’s so sweet. They were both witches too?” She remembers you talking about being raised a witch, but didn’t want to assume.

“My dad was a Bishop on his mother’s side.” It was always a point of pride for him, to be descended from one of the Salem witches, and so it is for you as well. “Mom didn’t know her family, but she was a witch by her own devices, I guess.”

“Was she adopted?” She wonders, asking delicately.

“She never really talked about it.” Which had always struck you as strange, and then was downright inconvenient later in life. “She used to call Dad’s parents her adoptive family and stuff like that. We weren’t close to them, though. I guess they didn’t like that he moved away from Massachusetts, but they liked Mom well enough. They were everything I had and then…they were gone.”

“That’s so horrible. I’m so sorry. I know that it’s hard to lose a parent.” She murmurs softly. “Even worse to lose both at the same time.”

“That’s…kind of why this has been so nice,” you admit, turning to look at Allison again. “I know I didn’t know Cookie. And that we were only loosely related. But it’s kind of like getting my family back. Or as close to it as I’ll ever come, anyway.”

Allison reaches out and takes your hand. "I hope that you know that we will happily be your family. Found family is the ones that you love the most."

The sincerity of the moment cracks something tight in your chest, and before you know it you’re pulling Allison in and hugging her tightly, just willing yourself not to shed tears into her oversized sweater. “Thank you.” Two shattered words, but they are the best you can do at first. Until you manage a deep breath and huff out a half—laugh before pulling away again. “You’ve been so kind to me right from the start. All of you have. And I can’t possibly say how grateful I am. It’s…well, it’s been years since I’ve had a close friend and you’re just…you’re the sweetest woman in the whole world.”

"I felt that you had the kindest energy." She admits, "just that you were...lost. But now it seems that you have found yourself. You are finding yourself, who you are meant to be."

“Whoever that ends up being,” you squeeze her shoulder gently. “I owe her, at least in part, to you.”

"No." She shakes her head, smiling at you as if you were the most precious thing. "You have done this all on your own. You just let are letting her shine through."

“You’re the sweetest person in the whole world.” And she’s yet one more unexpected part of this whole wonderful situation, which you find yourself grateful for all over again. “You should go see if Eddie is home, honey. No sense in letting him sit at home alone while Max and I are out, right?”

She bites her lip again, a habit of hers when you mention Eddie. "I think I will." She decides with a small grin. "Wish me luck."

“Good luck.” Although you don’t think she’s going to need it. Not when it comes to Eddie.

"Do you want me to help you finish getting ready?" She offers, tilting her head playfully.

“It’s just my makeup left, and I can manage that.” The vintage purse you’ll be taking is already packed, and a moment alone to remind your reflection that this is a good thing, not something to be afraid of would probably be good. “Go and have your own fun night, honey. I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

She turns to walk slowly to the door. Turning at the entryway and watching you as you admire or maybe critique your looks in the mirror. "You look amazing and I know tonight will be perfect." She predicts with a wink. "Let me know if you are still up for brunch tomorrow or if you need some recovery time."

“There will be nothing to recover from.” Still, you shoo her toward the door playfully and smile when she worries her bottom lip between her teeth again but makes her way straight across the second floor hall, through the shortcut to Eddie’s room.

******

Max checks his suit, feeling slightly guilty that you are so worked up. Maybe he should have eased you into this. Maybe something more low key was what you are interested in. The flowers he had bought are already sitting in a vase, at Mrs. Taylor’s insistence, and he wonders if he should even give them to you.

Sitting down at your vanity, the clock says five minutes until you promised Max you would be ready and you line up your makeup and brushes with practiced precision. Nothing can or will go wrong tonight, you have told yourself over and over all day long. It is far too important. But the moment you look up at your mirror, your eyes connect with the carnival photo booth snapshot of you and your mother from when you were twelve years old, and you breathe a soft sigh. “You’d like him,” you promise your mother out loud. “He’s sweet. And doesn’t like it when I get in my own way. Which is…it’s a relief.”

Max decides that he will bring you the flowers. Every woman deserves romance, especially from her soulmate. He gives you another minute before he’s knocking on the door, not wanting to rush you, there’s plenty of time built into the night.

The knock is a nice gesture, given that you both know what tonight is and he knows you’re inside. Still, you exhale slowly and open your bedroom door exactly the same as if it had been the front door of your house that he was picking you up at. The suit he picked out is immaculate, with a crisp, clean shirt and no tie to make it a little less formal. And you had meant to compliment him when you opened the door. You really had. But all the comes out is a soft “Wow…” instead.

He chuckles, charmed by your honest reaction. “Is that for me or the flowers?” He asks, holding them up for you to see properly.

“Can it be both?” You ask, embarrassed to admit that you hadn’t even noticed the flowers until he held them up.

“I’ll take that.” He flashes you a grin before he slowly peruses your dress with appraisal.

“If you don’t like it, I can change.” The offer is immediate, unable to read his expression and figure out whether or not he approves of your borrowed dress.

"Don't you dare." He insists, frowning at the mere idea of you changing. "You look...stunning. I don't know if I should change. Make myself more presentable."

“More presentable?” Huffing at him even as you step aside to let him into your room for a moment, you just shake your head. “That suit would make Frank Sinatra jealous. You couldn’t possibly look more presentable.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, have you looked in the mirror tonight?” He asks as he sets the flowers down and turns to you to take your hands and holds them wide to get a better look. “You are breathtaking and that’s saying something, coming from a vampire.”

“Allison let me borrow it,” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat almost uncontrollably at the compliment. “She, um…she helped me get ready. Now she’s going to spend some time with Eddie while we’re out.” It makes you feel less guilty to know neither of them will be lonely. The idea that your happiness comes last has been pervasive for a long time, but you’re trying to be cognizant of it. To shake it.

“Well, she needs to help you spend some of that money buying flirty, fun dresses like this to wear.” He hums. “Because I can see having regular dinner and dancing dates with you.”

“I’ll have to tell her you approve. And the flowers are beautiful, by the way.” The burst of red, orange, and yellow that now sits on your nightstand is brilliant, and you pick up your purse from beside it. “Are you ready to go?”

“Whenever you are, Queenie.” His hand hovers for a split second before resting on your lower back. Guiding you towards the door of your rooms. The door that he had left open to make sure you were comfortable. Just because he lives here doesn’t mean he will impose.

Shutting the door behind you and heading for the stairs, you can hear the soft sound of laughter from Eddie's room. It sounds like they're going to have a wonderful night ahead of them and you note with interest that even though you don't feel any warmth from Max's hand on our back there is still a solid presence there beside you. "How was work today?" Instead of dwelling, you turn all of your attention to Max, wanting to hear anything and everything he has to tell you about his workday.

“It was pretty good, I have a new line on another business deal. Hopefully it will pan out. What did you do besides worry about tonight?” He asks curiously.

He does have a point. You went panicking to Allison, after all. But you smile at the question anyway. "Mrs. Taylor and I nailed down the menu for the masquerade this morning."

“Oh really?” His brow shoots up and he grins. “And what will we be feasting on during the masquerade?”

"The menus that she had mocked up were seven, ten, and twelve courses." As much as you had respected the dedication to the Gilded Age theme, it had seemed a little too much to you and eventually you and your vampiric housekeeper had whittled the ideas down to the best of four courses. "It will be potato leek soup, a fish course with asparagus and hollandaise, chicken...something or other...I think she said it's called Lyonnaise? With mashed potatoes as the main course, and then champagne and strawberry cake for dessert that she said was Cookie's favourite. It felt like a nice way to pay tribute to her." Of course there was discussion of vegetarian options being needed, but when tickets are bought people will have the chance to indicate that they don't eat meat and then that bridge will be crossed when necessary.

“And I am assuming that there is an assortment of finger foods that will be served between dances?” He asks, amused by the dedication.

"According to Mrs. Taylor, it should be several different kinds of drinks and a few sweets to choose from on a buffet table in the dining room." The immense amount of work had shocked you when Mrs. Taylor had laid the whole thing out, but she assured you that she and Renee had everything in hand with just a little extra help from Mr. Taylor and Mr. Finchley. "Then, of course, there's the breakfast for whoever is still left at sunrise."

“This is going to be an amazing night for Newport.” He predicts. “Like nothing they’ve seen for years. I bet they will be clamoring for it to become an annual event.”

"Hopefully it's not too much on Mrs. Taylor and Renee. They're both very excited but it sounds like a whole lot of work to me." At the bottom of the stairs, Max opens the door for you and ushers you through with a smile. "If it becomes something annual I'm going to insist on having extra help for her next year. I know they're both...superhuman, but they shouldn't have to overdo it."

“You know they don’t even break a sweat, right?” He asks as he moves his hand from your back to offer his arm to escort you down the steps.

"They can still only do one thing at a time. Four people cooking for that many guests is a tall order for anyone." He acts like it's the most natural thing in the world to escort you down the front steps and out the front door like a perfect gentleman. Meanwhile you are all but swooning at his side over just the simple act of having an arm offered to you.

“That woman loves to care for people.” He reminds you with a chuckle. “I would say she lives for it, but we both know that’s not true.”

"She exists for it?" You offer with a soft chuckle.

“That’s the way to put it.” Max chuckles and opens the front door to show that his car has been brought forward. Waiting for you.

So far all you've done is walk to his car together but already you feel like a princess. Maybe the bar is set a little too low, or maybe he's doing all the right things — you really can't tell. What you do know, as Max closes the passenger side door and rounds the hood of his car in less than the blink of an eye to get in beside you, is that this is definitely how you always dreamed of dates starting out.

Max buckles his seatbelt and looks over at you with a slight smile. “Are you ready, Queenie?” He asks softly. “If you want to go home at any time, you let me know.”

He's being so gentle with you that it's heartbreaking and heartwarming all at once. The idea that you need to be handled with such a soft touch is a little embarrassing, but the fact that he is being so caring without any kind of request or even indication on your part is just...well, it's just about the sweetest thing you've ever heard in your life. "I'm okay," you promise him, reaching out to put your hand softly over his on the gear shift. "I know you heard me being anxious earlier, but I've been looking forward to this since you asked." And more than that, you've been looking forward to a first date with your soulmate for your entire life.

“Good.” Max hums, turning his hand so you can slide your fingers through his if you want. “I want you to enjoy yourself. There’s no expectations for tonight. No pressure. I just want you to have a night that we should have had ten years ago.”

"Ten years ago it would have been chicken wings and a jukebox in a bar." Which isn't a bad thing, but it isn't what you dreamed of. What you've dreamed of is much closer to this: your fingers fitting neatly through his as he pulls away from the house on your way to a beautiful dinner and a night of dancing. "Let's call tonight the...grown up version."

“The grown up version.” Max hums as he pulls out onto the street. “Well, it’s a good thing then. I wouldn’t have known how to dance then.” He reminds you. “Now I can waltz with you properly.”

“To be honest I never assumed my soulmate would be a dancer.” It’s a perk, obviously. And one that you hold very dear after so many years without dance in your life. But never something you considered mandatory. “It’s like the icing on a cake I already know I like.”

“I think that it’s complementary.” He agrees. “It’s something that we can do together. And neither one of us has to pretend to like it.”

“What else do you like to do?” Other than his work, and having a few things in common like reading and dancing, it occurs to you that you don’t know much about him.

Max smirks. “I like to play poker.” He admits. “There’s this monthly game I’m in. High stakes, pretty much a two day event.”

“High risk, high reward.” Just like his sales deals, you note. He’s mentioned some of them being for upwards of a few million dollars. “I can’t say I’ve ever been great at cards but I do like to play sometimes.”

“Maybe we can play sometime?” He offers. “There’s some lower stakes games, just for fun.”

“I used to play poker for M&Ms with my Dad,” you admit, smiling at the memory. “Any game can be lower stakes if you let it.”

He chuckles, knowing that is true and refrains from offering to play strip poker. “What else did you do with your dad?”

“He liked to paint.” It’s been a long time since you’ve talked about your parents to anyone, but since coming to Newport your family and your past has seemed more relevant than ever. Almost like they had gone on a terribly long vacation instead of being violently ripped from you the summer before you started college. “He would take me to art museums and was the only Dad in my Mommy and Me Painting Class when I was little. We’d play card games and board games and plan all the trips around the world that we would take when I got older.” The last memory makes you shrug, eyes cast down at the floor of Max’s sports car. “We never got to take any of the trips we planned, but it was a fun way to pass a rainy day. It made me think for a while that I could be a travel agent when I grew up.”

“I’m sorry that you didn’t get to travel.” Max tells you quietly, wishing he had some memories like that with his parents. Maybe it would have made it easier when he was alone. But he doubts it. “You should travel.” He tells you. “Go all the places you planned with him. A remembrance trip once a year maybe.”

“I’m not very good at being alone.” Maybe it’s why you stayed with Derek so long. Maybe it isn’t. You can’t be too sure either way, but you know that being lonely is one of your least favourite feelings in the world. “But maybe I’ll try. If…there isn’t someone to come with me, I mean.”

“You don’t have to be alone, Queenie.” Max promises. “There’s your coven, I’m sure any one of them would love to go on a trip with you. Eddie loves to travel and of course, I will go wherever you wanted anytime.”

"You say 'of course' like it's the easiest thing in the world." Your fingers curl around his palm instinctively, afraid to let go of him now that you're allowed to be close in any small way. "But it...it means everything."

“You are my soulmate.” He stresses quietly. “Even if platonic soulmates was all you wanted, I would want to spend time with you.”

"It's not." He's pulled up to a stoplight on Bellevue, and even though your voice is quiet, it's sure. You're just not quite strong enough to look up at him while you say it. "It's...not at all what I want. I just need you to be patient with me. While I...I don't know...figure out how to not be so scared anymore."

“I have eternity.” He reminds you with a grin, wishing he could banish the sadness and fear in your eyes. “And you can have that too.”

"That's a very big offering considering it's only our first date." Trying for a little bit of humor — to lift your own spirits as well as his — you squeeze his hand again when the light turns and he pulls through the intersection. "Let's see how we feel about living in the same house and dancing together and maybe we'll talk about eternity after that. Sound good?"

He squeezes your hand gently. “That sounds like a good idea. Sometimes I get ahead of myself.” He winks before he looks back at the road.

******

It takes a whole six minutes to get from the front gate of Chateau-sur-Mer to the White Horse Tavern, according to the clock on the dashboard of Max's Lexus, and when he pulls into the parking lot the place seems to be completely full to the brim. There's no loud music or bright lights like you might have expected at some place called a tavern, but instead there are people in very smart clothes streaming in and out of the building alternately — and once you're inside there are white tablecloths and lovely candles on every table.

“Now you see why I thought of this place.” He murmurs in your ear, his hand on your back again. Not possessive, but protective. Guiding you up to the host stand. “Reservation for Phillips, table for two.” He responds slightly smug when asked for his name. He is smug about having you here, proud that this date is happening. Eager to learn more about his pretty soulmate.

"Right this way." The hostess smiles politely and leads the way, bringing the two of you to a table in the corner surrounded by other chattering couples on dates enjoying the warm glow of romantic candlelight.

As soon as you are seated, the sommelier comes over. “Good evening.” He smiles charmingly. “May I interest you in our vast selection of reds?” He asks, aware that this reservation includes a vampire who would be wanting a glass of their blood infused wine. Without even looking at you, Max shakes his head. “No thank you.” He hums. “My soulmate and I do not drink.” Even if you had said you are okay with it, Max is aware that anything resembling alcohol could stress you and that’s the last thing he wants tonight.

"Max." His hand is on the table and you put yours on top of it, giving it a squeeze like you did in the car. "It's okay. I promise." What he needs to sustain him and what you need are two vastly different things, and you are not going to be the reason that he skips having blood with this meal and ends up...weak or sick or whatever happens to vampires when they don't get enough blood.

He shakes his head seriously. “I was an asshole at the beginning about it.” He admits. “I didn’t know and there are are options here, just like Mrs. Taylor’s menus for us.”

“…very sweet of you.” Only the end of the sentence is really audible, mostly because you’re so dumbfounded by the idea that he is putting you before and above himself. In your whole life, maybe only your parents have ever done that for you.

The sommelier just gives a confused smile and nods, drifting away from the table. “I didn’t embarrass you, did I?” Max asks, frowning at the shock on your face. He had hoped you would appreciate his gesture, and he wasn’t doing it to show off, he genuinely wanted you to feel comfortable tonight with him.

“Not at all.” The slightly misty look on your face is from how touched you are at the gesture. “I just…you know I’m not used to anyone doing things for me. Emotionally, I mean. Or any other way. I still feel like apologizing every time Mrs. Taylor makes a meal or Renee makes clean clothes magically appear in my room. But you…” With a soft sigh and shake of your head, you offer him a smile. One where you actually manage to look him in the eyes. “I always thought I would be the one taking care of my soulmate with whatever he needed. But you’re the one taking care of me.”

He wants to chuckle, but he can’t. Now when your eyes practically hypnotize him. He’s never felt a pull like that and he shakes his head slowly. “We take care of each other.” He reminds you, “head scratches?”

“Are you asking or reminding?” Either way, the smile on your face gets broader and you can feel that growing familiar feeling of warmth in your cheeks.

“Reminding you.” He grins back at you and winks. “It’s probably the most relaxed I’ve ever gotten as a vampire.”

“Then we’ll have to make it a regular thing.” You can promise him that. The seemingly little promises mean so much when they all stack up together.

“That would be nice, but only if you enjoy it as well.” He knows that you might just agree to keep him happy and that’s the last thing he wants.

"Do I enjoy sitting with my soulmate's head in my lap, seeing him terribly relaxed while I read a book or we watch tv together?" This time when you laugh it's just one huffed chuckle, and it's in near disbelief. "Honestly? It might be the closest to bliss I've been in years."

He smiles at that, squeezing your hand again. “Good.” He hums, nodding towards your menu. “Take a look and see what you want to eat, Queenie, we have dancing later on.”

You don't even have to ask to know that he'll be ordering steak tonight, and as rare as possible. The habit makes perfect sense to you now and you'll never say another word about it. The menu is high-end gourmet and apparently all locally sourced from the list of farms on the bottom of the menu, and for a moment you feel tremendously out of place again until you glance up to find Max smiling at you. And that one little act, that seemingly coincidental timing and easy gesture, has another layer of anxiety and fear slipping away from your heart as easily as water drips down a window. "I've discovered I like duck," you confide after a few minutes of looking over the options. "I had never had it before, but Mrs. Taylor is a miracle worker. Do you think theirs will be as good as hers?"

“Doubtful.” He snorts, shaking his head. “Not unless Mrs. Taylor is moonlighting as the chef here.” He jokes. “She has been to practically every chef’s school in the world in her lifetime.”

“She should be teaching at them. Or opening one of her own.” You know, though, that she would never be as happy teaching as she is taking care of people. It’s a lovely thought, though.

“Never happen.” He promises. “Mrs. Taylor is vowed, willingly—” he adds because he knows you might think otherwise. “— to serve your family line for eternity.”

“She’ll be free to do whatever she wants soon enough, then,” you remind him gently. “We’re not exactly going to be populating that house with little half-vamps.”

“Except you can have an absurdly long life, even as a human.” He points out, sure you haven’t even thought about it.

“I—” Technically, he’s correct. You could have as long a life as Cookie did or even longer. But you can’t even fathom that he would want to spend months or years with you, let along decades or centuries. “That is…something we’ll talk about together. You and I.”

“Okay.” He won’t push, it’s just the first date, after all. Instead of continuing on the same vein, he looks around the tavern. “So, who do you think is a vampire?” He asks playfully.

“Hmmm.” A game is definitely something you can get behind, and you look around the crowded dining room full of well dressed patrons with the air of someone who knows exactly what they’re looking for instead of just being the clueless little human that you are. “I’m going to say…” your eyes fall on an impeccably well-dressed man in an elaborate suit and his pale dinner companion in her lace dress. “Those two. Aaand…the table of four over by the fireplace. I think the girl is introducing her new beau to her sires.”

Max lifts a brow, impressed by the fact that you have clock that correctly. “Good eyes.” He chuckles. “The two are, she’s a baby vamp, too.”

“It turns out that once I realized I was surrounded by vamps, it got easier to see the differences.” There is also a particular, peculiar way that they hold themselves — that all vampires seem to hold themselves. As if they have innumerable secrets. And the older they are, the more secrets they accumulate. Which, you suppose, must be true after a point.

“Really?” That makes him sit up slightly. “What differences?”

“I don’t know if I can describe it properly.” For a moment you pause, when the waiter arrives to bring you both water and ask if you’d like an appetizer. Max orders the specialty charcuterie board and you have to imagine that there are raw things involved for him as well as the regular cheeses and spreads for humans. “It’s like…your shoulders are always a little straighter. Your gaze is more direct. And there’s something…I dunno…elegant? Maybe? In the way you all move. Like it takes so much less effort or you’ve maximized the economy of all of those movements somehow. I can’t describe it properly.”

He smirks slightly and leans in. “We are elegant?” He asks, intrigued by the fact that you are not scared. Perhaps even enjoying that he is a vampire.

“Of course you are elegant, but I didn’t notice until after that you all sort of…have a certain grace.” Shrugging self-consciously, you do notice that he doesn’t let your hand slip away from his on the table. “It probably sounds funny,” you murmur in defeat.

“It doesn’t. It’s actually— I think it might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” He confesses. “People always say ‘you’re hot’ or ‘I want you’ but no one ever tells me I’m elegant.”

“You are hot.” The admission comes with screaming hot cheeks and eyes trained back down at the table, but it’s true. “I thought so the first time I saw you…”

There’s a hint of heat in his smirk, not nearly as play—boyish as it might have once been. “Glad you thought I was hot.” He hums proudly. “Sexual attraction is key to a healthy romantic relationship.”

“And you’ll always look that way.” It’s not a fun thought to have, but you’ve had it twice already. He will always be young and handsome, and you will inevitably get old — even if you choose long life it will still happen eventually.

He snorts. “We age just not as fast as humans do.” He admits.

“So slowly that it’s imperceptible?” It’s a guess, but you nod your head in understanding. “I’ll get everything down eventually, I promise. This is all still…just days’ old information to me.”

“I don’t expect you to be an expert, sweetheart.” Max tuts. “Hell, I’m still learning about vampires.” He flashes you a grin. “And I’ve been one a lot longer than days.”

"What do you like about it?" You ask, looking at your connected hands before you look back up at him. "There must be something you like about the change."

“Smell is better, hearing is better.” Max shrugs slightly. “I’m a better version of myself.” He snort slightly. “The no need for sleep helped when getting my MBA.”

“It certainly gives you more time to get things done.” Thinking on it for even a second though, you laugh a little. “If I had had that in college I think I would’ve done twice as many competitions and probably added a second major, just because I could.”

He chuckles and winks at you, “That’s my girl.” He hums fondly, not even thinking about it until it comes out of his mouth, but you are his girl.

Finding it fond instead of possessive — as the comment would have been from the last person who might have bothered to call you such a thing — hearing it from Max actually makes you proud. Maybe neither of you is perfect, but you seem to fit together in all the right ways. Maybe that's all that soulmates are, ultimately. Just two people — or in this case a witch and a vampire — who fit together just right.

The meal is ordered and it’s a delightful surprise that there’s no lull in the conversation. Beyond ballroom dancing, at your core, your values match up. At least, Max’s values now, after the incident with Evan. Shockingly enough, he tells you about it.

"I can't believe that's even possible." The ordeal with his former friend, roommate, and coworker aside, the way Max describes what was basically his return from complete obliteration is just wild. "It sounds like...like magic...if I'm honest. Your sire managed to bring you back from...nothing." From his description, he was less than a undead body at that point. Something terrifying to imagine and terrible to contemplate. The idea that your soulmate could have been completely lost to you isn't exactly knew considering you thought it was dead, but knowing the truth makes it feel even more terrible. "If I ever meet your sire, I'm going to have to thank him."

“I have no doubt you will.” Max wonders when the old man will reveal himself to you. What his end game is. He always had one, that’s certain. “I am starting to figure out why I was brought back.”

"You think he had an ulterior motive?" You would think it would be enough just to be able to save his family, but you don't really know how loyal vampiric families are to each other.

“Absolutely.” His answer is instantaneous. Resolute. While he doesn’t know the details of why he was brought back, he had been for one reason.

"You're very certain of that." Which does, you admit, surprise you. "I take it he's not a sharing kind of guy? He didn't clue you in on why?"

“My sire is…an enigma.” Max admits, almost fondly. He has often been envious of the elder vampire’s flair and mystique. “He is legendary among vampires and I’m not so certain he doesn’t divulge information because it is his nature or as a way to play into his reputation.”

"Maybe it's both?" The two of you are still sitting at the table with intertwined hands even after your demolished appetizer has been cleared away. It's so unexpectedly sweet that it makes you feel a little bit...gooey. Like you might melt right into your plush upholstered seat. "Maybe the reputation came because he has a little flair for the dramatic, and now he just likes to play into it and keep it going? You said he's quite old now, right? Maybe it amuses him."

“Yes. That is probably a lot of it.” He agrees. “You will like him I think.”

"Are you saying I have a flair for the dramatic?" Raising one eyebrow and shooting him a grin, you can't help but smile along with him. You did, once, have a wicked dramatic side. Inherited from your mother and dearly cherished. It was an endless source of amusement.

“You ballroom dance and you love reality tv shows.” He snorts playfully. “Of course you have a flair for the dramatic. I can’t wait to see you show out at the masquerade.”

"If you think I'm bad with Dancing with the Stars, wait until you see me on a 90 Day Fiancé binge." That really only happens when you hit your cycle, but it's still a sight to see — you tucked up in your bed under three blankets with a bowl of popcorn and a box of tissues crying about love is just...a side of you that you normally keep hidden. But somehow you have a feeling that Max would understand.

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite couple?” Max asks curiously. “I like Angela and Mike, but sometimes she’s toooo much, you know what I mean?” He spends a lot of nights binge watching things, since it’s not like he sleeps and unfortunately, not many human businessmen work after midnight.

The way you just stare at him is nearly comical, like your brain hasn’t quite caught up with you yet, and when it finally goes you realize your mouth has been open and you snap it shut like the little boy from Mary Poppins. “I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised,” you huff, laughing softly at your own reaction. “We should have things in comments. Soulmates and all that…”

“Babe, I’m also a little dramatic shit.” He confesses with a chuckle. “I mean, who really changes into a bat to spend time with someone because your over-the-top douchbaggery has made them uncomfortable, but you’re intrigued by them?” He asks, making it seem like he is the total asshole he believes he is.

“That’s…pretty true.” And it draws another laugh from you just imagining the thought process he went through to even think of doing it in the first place. “I have to admit, though. It made me feel like the missing goth Disney Princess and I kind of loved that.”

“I’m happy to make that secret fantasy come true.” He grins, nearly beaming proudly at the idea of sparking some inner desire. “And as a bat, I can actually sleep?”

“Compacting a big vampire into a tiny bat body must take a lot of effort.” Or, at least, you imagine it does. It’s more or less breaking the known laws of physics, after all.

“It does.” Max admits with a slight shrug. He will minimize the idea of the energy it expels because he doesn’t want you to ever feel bad for wanting the bat to cuddle.

“Well, you only need to worry about all that energy when you want to, now,” you insist, being respectfully nonspecific because you can see the waiter approaching your table with your dinners. “You never need to be anything besides yourself with me.”

“I appreciate that.” He wonders if you are so accepting and accommodating because of the past relationship or if it was just you. “I hope you’re hungry, this place is supposed to have amazing food.”

It would be cheesy or clingy or just too much to tell him that you’re actually disappointed the food is here because you have to stop holding his hand. You sit back though, politely thanking the waiter and letting your mouth water over how good everything looks and smells when your plates are set down. “Thank you for this,” you murmur when the waiter has gone again, looking tentatively back toward Max’s face. “We didn’t have to do anything at all and knowing you’re my soulmate would have already made the time we spend together special. But this is…it’s really beautiful. And I’ll never forget it.”

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part of the night.” He promises with a small wink. “Before I’m through with you, your body will be sore and you’ll be breathless.” It sounds dirty, but he’s talking about dancing.

“Max.” Your cheeks burn at the innuendo but you can’t even pretend to dislike the feeling. For the first time in…maybe years, you’re free to let yourself enjoy life. And that’s all thanks to him. Let night really might be the first time you’ve considered masturbating in longer than you would like to admit. And that is thanks to Max, too.

“What?” He tuts playfully, fully aware that your heartbeat has sped up. “Dancing should make you sore and breathless if you’re doing it right.”

“Sure.” But the thought is there, and the playful, bubbly, flirtatious woman that you used to be a long time ago floats the surface unchecked. “Dancing definitely does that,” you agree, tucking a smirk into the corner of your mouth.

“So many dances.” He likes that you are flirting back. Your eyes are practically sparkling with mischief and it’s miles apart from the scared mouse he had met when you arrived. “Tango, waltz, horizontal hustle, foxtrot.” He ticks them off on his fingers like he’s doing down a list.

The mention of horizontal hustle warms you through with a flush of embarrassment and — admittedly — arousal and you pick up your fork very properly without the smirk ever leaving your face. “The girls I danced with always called it ‘getting a new tango partner’ when they started seeing someone new. Slightly more discreet of them, considering our teachers were mostly prim middle-aged ladies.”

He hums, amused by the phrase and he runs his tongue over his teeth, toying with his incisor. “It’s allllll in the hips.”

It shouldn’t be sexy, the way you know for a fact that his teeth are certified weapons and he is just casually running his tongue over them…it makes you wonder just what his tongue might feel like running over other things. “Hips,” you hum, watching him lick his lips subtly. You can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not but it’s distracting as all hell. “I’ll remember that.”

“You do that, Queenie.” He winks at you and scoops up his fork to steal a bite of your food from your plate. He’s not going to eat it. God no, it’s too cooked for his liking, but he turns the fork around and offers you the bite. “Tell me how it tastes.” Despite not liking human food now, he misses the tastes of things.

He can absolutely hear your pulse, there’s no way he can’t when it’s pounding in your ears like a hammer. But putting your lips around his fork is perilously close to put your lips around something else of his and you close your eyes against just how tantalizing that thought is when you’re seemingly getting your sex drive back all at once.

He bites his lip when you moan, taking the bite of food. Sure that you are completely unaware of how erotic it sounds. Knowing that you aren’t trying to entice him, but just like that natural curiosity to know more about you, that attraction is something he’s helpless against. All he can do is control his reaction.

“I know you’re not big on this kind of food anymore, but that’s fantastic.” You tell him, letting the flavour linger on your tastebuds happily. Truly good food is such a luxury that you have a hard time imagining giving it up, but that’s just you.

“I used to love all kinds of food.” Max admits with a guilty grin. “Favorite thing was trying new restaurants. New foods.”

“I hate that that isn’t fun for you anymore.” To lose one of life’s simple pleasures is a shame, even if the tradeoff has many more benefits.

“It’s okay.” Max hums slightly. “I can taste what the human donor has eaten through their blood.” He admits with a grin. “Although it’s a little muted since the blood is chilled and reheated.”

“So…if it was warm from the source…it would be better?” Trying to understand the logistics of his vampirism is going to be key for you, and that means even the parts that don’t seem very savory to talk about.

“Yeah.” He shrugs slightly. “I don’t look for donors anymore.” He explains. “If someone were to offer? I might would have taken them up on it before the other night, but I wouldn’t now.”

“Is it…” As the two of you start to eat in earnest, it almost feels like the conversation should have trended this way. You are, after all, talking about his survival. “Is it a very…meaningful connection? Is that why?”

“It’s….” He pauses for a moment. “Intimate. Almost sensual to the point of turning sexual.” He looks at you intently, his eyes drilling into yours and he hopes that doesn’t offend you. “There’s nothing more intimate than taking a part of someone into your own body, right?”

“I suppose I never thought of it like that before.” Before a few days ago you had honestly never given it much thought at all, but knowing what you know now? You spend almost all of your thoughts on the subject.

“It doesn’t hurt much.” He promises, thinking you might be worried about donors. “Just a sharp pinch and then it feels good. But I won’t be drinking from anyone, I think that’s not fair when you have a soulmate.”

“It’s really that intimate?” From what he’s said, it suddenly makes much more sense to you why people would succumb to the feeling quickly, and you nod when he looks at you meaningfully. “If it’s something I’m ever going to consider, I want to know about it,” you explain. “That’s all.”

“I would never ask.” He doesn’t want you to feel like he expecting you to become his meal plan. “I hope you know that.”

******

Dinner passes with slightly lighter conversation, where you learn that you both like fall and winter better than spring and summer, and that Max used to love cookies more than anything other dessert.

The dance studio that you go to is run by a very sweet woman called Miss Valerie — who apparently named the studio for herself — and is full of all sorts of different people when you and Max are ushered into the main studio for free dancing. A laptop in the corner is playing a personalized playlist and there is a card table with drinks and snacks in a different corner which looked like some people had added to upon their arrivals. It was a night of chit chat — as soon as people heard about the masquerade they instantly wanted to know every detail — but it was fun, too. Max stayed by your side, talking up the masquerade and excusing you from conversation to dance a little more when he sensed you getting nervous.

Dancing with Max might be even better now that you know he’s your soul mate. His gentleness and steady presence leading you through every dance is mixed with so much care that you could just about cry, but there is a mounting otherness in every touch that can only be compared to the first time you allowed yourself to explore any kind of sexuality. Like you’re waking up, and instead of curiosity being what drives your own fingers in the night, it will be the memory of hearing Max’s voice in your ear or feeling his touch on your skin. He had even lifted you a few times in certain dances and it was the most literal sweeping off your feet you could ever possibly contemplate. By the time he pulls into the driveway it’s so late that you’ve lost track of the hour completely but you know you’re going to keep holding his hand until the very last second.

“I think I’ve kept Cinderella out past midnight.” Max teases as he cuts the engine. “But lucky me, you haven’t turned into a pumpkin yet.”

“No.” There’s a note of bashfulness in the way you shake your head, even though you feel bolder tonight than you have in years. “I wouldn’t dare. How could I dance with you again if I was a pumpkin?”

He grins, his teeth flashing white in the darkness of the car. “That would be such a shame, Queenie.”

“It really would be.” Dancing with Max had been like floating on water, and your face burns with pleasure and embarrassment remembering even half an hour ago.

“Would you like to keep dancing?” He asks, bringing your hand to his lips. Anyone else, it would be an innuendo for something else, but with you, he’s asking if you want him to take you to the ballroom. He had loved every second of you being in his arms and of dancing was the only way, he would dance all night.

“Am I a sissy if I admit I’m tired?” Still, your fingers tingle under the press of his lips, and knowing what you now do about his exceptional hearing means you’re sure he heard you hold your breath. “I haven’t danced that much in years and my feet aren’t as calloused as they used to be. But—” The thought is there. The intent. But you can’t quite bring yourself to form the words right away. It’s like you don’t trust yourself. Which, to be fair, you don’t.

“Not a sissy,” he huffs slightly at your ease of insulting yourself. “Human.” He reminds you that he might have the ability to stay up indefinitely, but you do not. “But?”

“I was…” It feels silly to admit it, but you would be horribly sad if the night ended here. Having him close feels like a missing piece of yourself has slid into place. “Going to ask if you wanted to come upstairs,” you admit quietly. “But that’s silly. You live here. Hell…your room is right next to mine.”

Max tilts his head, tsking slightly. “Queenie, you never need to feel silly talking to me. You meant come to your room, didn’t you?” He asks quietly, squeezing your hand gently.

“I don’t want tonight to be over yet.” His hand around yours is cool and comforting, but there’s an electricity in it that is so old that it must have been called something far different before it was called a spark.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Max smiles at the shyness in your tone, the mere embarrassment. “How about this? Why don’t I make you a cup of my famous hot chocolate while you change into something causal, and I’ll meet you upstairs?” He asks, lifting a brow.

His knack for the exact right gesture is something you’re learning isn’t accidental. The effort he is putting into spending time with you is very intentional, and makes you feel like the single most special person in the entire world. “I’ll find a book that is less than a hundred years old, just in case. How about that?”

“Whatever you want to read, sweetheart.” He promises, happy that he had phrased it correctly. He doesn’t want you thinking he assumes you’re going to sleep with him. “But first, I need to walk you to the door.” In the blink of an eye, he’s out of the car and around to your side, opening it up for you to climb out.

“I’ll never get used to that.” You’ve seen him do it now five or six times and it takes your breath away without fail. This time, though, the thing taking your breath might also be the soft smile on his face as you put your hand in his and let him lift you effortlessly out of the car.

“It’s handy.” He admits with a chuckle, closing the door behind you and turning to walk up the front steps. “I’ll be able to change into some sweats after making your hot chocolate too.”

“Does this count as post-gaming our own date?” Leaving his car behind to walk up to the house, your hand stays in his and you lean slightly into his side just on instinct. He feels so safe and you can’t possibly put into words how grateful you are for that.

“More like a casual continuation. The wind down, if you will.” He enjoys your warmth, humming softly at the feeling. You have seemed more comfortable around him as the night has gone on and Max deserve brownie points for ignoring the whiffs of arousal he’s detected.

"I like that." You also like the way he almost sounds like he's purring when he hums, but maybe that's your imagination. Remembering the little sounds he would make in bat form. "I like the idea of being able to share all the versions of ourselves."

Max opens the door to the house, hearing a sound from Eddie’s room that makes him smirk. “If you can’t share everything with your soulmate, who can you share them with?”

"What is it?" His question was rhetorical, you know that, but he looks amused and his eyes darted away from you for a second before coming back.

“Allison is still here.” He tells you, putting his finger to his lips like it’s a secret.

"And she claimed Eddie wasn't as interested as she is." You shake your head at that as if the two of you were some wise old mentors finding out your protégés had finally taken your advice. "I guess tonight was a good date night for everyone in the house, then."

Max winks at you as he closes the door behind the two of you. “Like to think ours was better.” He teases. “Now, go take those shoes off, Queenie and I’ll make your hot chocolate. If you’re lucky, I might even be talked into a foot rub for your dance sore feet.”

"I would never make you do that." More than half your life in ballet, ballroom, and jazz classes means that your feet are...not exactly going to end up in shoe ads any time soon. But it's sweet of him to offer, and you squeeze his hand before you let it go. "I'm going to go up and change. You can just come on in when you're ready."

“I’ll knock, just to make sure you aren’t still changing.” He promises with a wink before he zips off to the kitchen.

You deftly avoid Eddie's room as you go upstairs, going the long way to your room all the way across the house before you hang your sweater and release yourself from your shoes — much to the relief of your aching feet. Despite the small pain, though, you wouldn't change anything about tonight. Your dress is exchanged for a favourite t-shirt, worn thin from constant use and sporting the logo of a theme park that you went to with a bunch of friends in college when you all decided that you just needed to get away for the weekend. It hangs long on your torso, skimming past the edge of your yoga pants, and you wipe off your makeup before getting into bed with a copy of a murder mystery by Alyssa Maxwell that was most definitely published in the twenty-first century.

Max hears you settle down and is at your door in an instant. He had made the hot chocolate quickly and of course changed before you had finished your nightly routine, waiting until you were done. Two light taps on the door is the knock he gives, waiting for you to answer before he turns the knob.

"Come in." The door is just feet from your bed, and when he cracks it open he's dressed in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants with a steaming mug in his hands. "Hey." As soft as it is on your lips, it's mostly out of surprise. Max is always immaculately dressed, and the revelation that he even owns a t-shirt is a pretty big deal. Not to mention the way his broad shoulders stretch the faric, or the way his gray sweatpants (bearing a small embossed collegiate logo near the pocket) hang onto his trim hips, which is wickedly distracting.

“Hey you.” He slips inside and closes the door with a grin. “You look comfy as can be in that bed.” He teases. “Is there room for me?”

"It's a big bed." Knowing that he won't pressure you gives you an immense feeling of relief, and the boldness to actually invite him in like this. You haven't even kissed yet. There is no way you would go all the way to sex tonight. But this closeness? You're craving it. "I'm pretty sure I can fit you in here. Might have to cuddle, though."

“I’ve been told I’m pretty good at cuddling.” He hands you the mug of hot chocolate and barely resists the urge to jump into the bed.

“I’m going to be spoiled forever if you keep making me this cocoa,” you warn him, ready to take the first sip despite the steam still pouring off the mug from underneath the perfect swirl of whipped cream. “That coffeeshop should be crying over losing you, if this is what you were doing as a barista.”

“I learned that girls love a perfect hot chocolate, but also, I loved one.” He laughs as he settles down beside you. “I’ll make you one every night if you want. I actually kind of miss making coffees and things like that. It was fun and easy.”

"I would have been in that shop every single day," you admit. The first sip of cocoa is just cool enough to take, and it rolls through you like a warm hug in the very best way. "For..." Bubbling just beneath the surface, a smile spreads across your lips that you just can't contain. "For more than just the cocoa."

“I knew it.” He crows, leaning in with a triumphant look on his face. He puts his lips just a bare millimeter away from your ear. “A whipped cream junky.”

Your breath catches like it always does when he gets so close to you, and your eyes flick up to his as you all but hide your face behind the mug in your hands. "Right..." you nod slightly in agreement, but when the smile returns to your lips it morphs into shaking your head 'no' and your tone dips to teasing. "Whipped cream. That's it."

“Indulgent, creamy….” He’s teasing you, maybe himself a little as well, but he loves the way your heart skitters slightly. It reminds him of a bird being startled, except this is a joyful thing. “Satisfying. What’s not to love?”

"You're incorrigible," you observe with a pleased grin, knowing full well that you have done nothing but encourage him tonight. It's the best night — let alone best date — you've had in ages. And that's so much of why you're not ready for it to end. This is the side of Max that you always want to have with you.

“Confident.” He corrects you with a grin of his own. “Cocky, maybe even a little conceited.”

"Filling in the gaps where I have no self-confidence of my own." In many ways you really are a balancing point to each other. He lifts you up and you ground him. It keeps you interested to see what he'll do next and you can only hope that it gives him a place to feel relaxed with you. Like he can let down his guard with you. "I think...if you want to...we should go back to that studio again next week." They had invited you both eagerly, and Miss Valerie herself had loudly mentioned having a spot on their competition team for another couple if they ever found anyone who was interested. If you were ever going to pin a number onto your dress again, you would want it to be with him. His over-confidence seems to be rubbing off on you, at least a little, and giving you another nudge toward boldness. "I really loved dancing with you tonight."

“It would be unfair really,” Max hums. “To deprive them of our presence. Our talent from the dance floor.” Part of it is an adopted act of confidence, but there is something magical about dancing with you. It’s easier than any other partner he’s ever had. “So I don’t think we should. Deprive them. Give the couples something to aspire to.”

The giggle that he pulls out of you is probably the closest to effervescent that you've ever managed. There is something about the way you feel when his attention is on you that is undeniable. When Max's focus is on you, the rest of the world falls away. "I wouldn't be surprised if it's more jealousy than aspiration," you tell him honestly, taking another sip of your drink. "I'll have the most handsome partner in the room."

He can’t help but preen slightly. “It helps when your partner is the most gorgeous creature you’ve ever laid eyes on.” He murmurs sincerely. Since meeting you, getting to know you, you’ve gone from pretty to stunning in his eyes.

"That's sweet of you." As much as you want to believe that he's telling you what he believes to be the truth, it's so hard to wrap your head around. There has been far too much of your life spent being told all the things that were wrong with you that it feels impossible to believe that someone like Max could find you beautiful. But gods...you want to.

He groans quietly, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to your shoulder. He should pull away, but your warmth is too intoxicating. “Queenie, I have a confession to make.” He whispers.

Here it is. Steeling yourself for the inevitable rejection you know that you deserve, you put your mug on the table beside your bed without unsettling his forehead. You'll make yourself the smallest presence possible in his life. You'll stop the formal dinners and just let him forget you even live in the same house if he doesn't decide to move out altogether. And you'll sure as fuck wait until he's gone to cry the tears that are already pressing at the back of your eyes. "What is it?" You don't want to ask the question, but you have to. The way your heart is already sinking tells you right away how much this is going to hurt.

He hates that your tone has changed, your body has shifted slightly. He wonders if he should have even opened his mouth, but he wanted to be honest with you. Pulling back slightly, he looks at you with a sense of anger at himself for being so unable to control himself. “I want to kiss you.”

"What?" Pushed out on a single breath, it feels like all the air has been knocked out of you all at once and your eyes blow wide when you look up at him.

“I told myself I wouldn’t push you, and I’m not.” He promises quickly. “I would never push you for anything you aren’t ready for, but I can’t help but think about it and if you want me to leave or move to the chair so I don’t make you uncomfortable, I will.”

"Please don't." Immediately reaching for him, your hand lands on his arm and your fingers squeeze, keeping him close even when you feel like your heart is going to pound out of your chest and you might forget how to breathe. "Don't like don't move away from me. Not don't like don't kiss me. I—" You might vibrate straight out of the bed in disbelief. "I really want to kiss you, too."

“You do?” Despite flirting, Max hadn’t considered that you might actually want to kiss him.

"I was getting ready for you to tell me that you wanted to end this before it started." Which feels terrible to admit, but you want to be honest with him. "Honestly, I...sort of figured you would have been able to...to smell how much I want to kiss you?"

Biting his lip, he considers lying to you, but he nods. “Just because you’re body is telling me yes, doesn’t mean your mind is.” He murmurs quietly, laying a hand on your arm and rubbing it gently. “I was a fucking horndog in the past, but I know boundaries.”

"I don't know how much else I'm ready for." Your hand covers his on your arm long enough to feel the difference between your burning skin and his cooler body, before your hand moves tentatively up his arm. Being allowed to touch him while you're dancing is so very different from touching him in your bed. "But I know I'm ready for this."

Max slides an arm under your body to pull you closer, shifting slightly so both of you are laying on your sides facing each other. “Queenie,” he leans in and nudges his nose against yours, eyes watching you closely. “May I kiss you?”

"Yes. Please." As far as enthusiastic consent goes, you really can't be more explicit and you don't want to just jump the gun and kiss him without answering. Lying in his arms in your bed is the last place you expected this to happen, but now that you're here it's like a dream.

He licks his lips, wetting them as his eyes flicker down to yours. Somewhere between your first sip and now, your cocoa has been pushed onto the nightstand and he can hold you without fear of spilling something hot all over you. “Good.” He murmurs, leaning in to take in your scent, mouthwatering and thick like ambrosia, before he lowers his mouth to yours.

______

VW: @haileymorelikestupid, @miraclesabound @nastiasnow @vabeachazn @oberynslady @grogusmum @kittenlittle24 @8-900 @survivingandenduring @guelyury @ktmadden86 @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sweetnsaltyclussy

My Masterlist!

155 notes · View notes