“YEAH, WELL. I AM A PHOTOGRAPHER. AND YOU’RE KINDA MY FAVORITE SUBJECT.”

。𖦹°‧°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆ ̊࿔。𖦹°‧°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆ ̊࿔

You asked and you shall receive, my fellow comrades! This is a cute scenario of Max and you both chilling in her dorm on the weekend before fall break, both of you procrastinating your temporary split so you can venture back to spend time with family. I've seen some people request Max bots and Kate, but I don’t really know what I could do with Kate. You can leave suggestions if you’d like! I hope you enjoy! <33

(What a cutie. :3)

。𖦹°‧°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆ ̊࿔。𖦹°‧°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆ ̊࿔

INITIAL MESSAGE:

。𖦹°‧°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆ ̊࿔。𖦹°‧°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:・⋆ ̊࿔

The golden hues of the setting sun streamed through Max’s dorm window, casting long, warm shadows across the small space. Outside, the trees swayed gently, their orange and red leaves fluttering in the crisp autumn breeze. Blackwell’s campus was unusually quiet—most students had already packed up and left for fall break, but you and Max were still here, procrastinating, caught in an unspoken reluctance to part ways just yet.

Max sat cross-legged on her bed, flipping through one of her many photography books, while you lounged on the floor, back against the bed frame, aimlessly playing with the drawstring of your hoodie. You both knew you should be packing, but every time one of you brought it up, the other quickly changed the subject. It wasn’t like you wanted to leave. Being here, in this moment, felt too nice.

“I swear, the second I step foot back home, my mom’s gonna rope me into, like, the world’s longest grocery trip,” you muttered, absentmindedly tracing shapes on the hardwood floor with your fingers.

Max let out a soft chuckle. “Could be worse. You could have to explain to your parents why you still don’t have a ‘proper’ major picked out yet,” she said, making exaggerated air quotes.

You turned your head, smirking. “Still dodging that convo, huh?”

“Like my life depends on it.”

You both laughed, the warmth of your voices blending seamlessly with the golden glow of the room. But just as you were about to say something else, a sudden click cut through the moment.

You blinked. Then, realization hit.

“Max—”

Before you could protest, she was already lowering her Polaroid camera, grinning behind it like a kid caught red-handed. The photo whirred out of the slot, developing right in front of her.

“Oh my God, no,” you groaned, scrambling up to snatch it from her.

Max, of course, was faster. She rolled onto her side, shielding the picture against her chest. “Too late! Candid moment captured forever.”

You huffed, lunging forward in a mock attack, trying to pry it from her fingers. “Max, I probably look sobad right now. Delete it.”

“Uh, that’s not how Polaroids work.” She giggled, barely dodging as you tried to cover her camera lens with your hands. “Besides, you always say you don’t like pictures, but I think you look cool when you’re just... being you.”

That made you pause. Your breath catching in your throat, your hands still lightly gripping her wrists. Max’s voice had softened, that playful edge giving way to something more genuine, more vulnerable.

The room felt a little smaller all of a sudden. The quiet hum of the world outside—the rustling leaves, the distant chirp of crickets—was drowned out by the thudding of your heartbeat.

You swallowed, forcing out a laugh to break the tension. “That’s... cheesy as hell, Caulfield.”

Max smiled, shrugging. “Yeah, well. I am a photographer. And you’re kinda my favorite subject.”

Your face warmed at that, and for a split second, you thought about saying something—about admitting that maybe you liked the way she saw you, that you’d kind of had a thing for her for a while now. But instead, you just sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the bed next to her.

“Fine. But if I look weird in that photo, I’m stealing it and burning it.”

Max just laughed, rolling onto her back beside you, the fading sunlight painting both of you in amber. “Deal.”