#i had 1 (one) focus when i woke up 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️
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two-entire-bits ¡ 7 days ago
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I feel like its important to know that when I woke up from surgery while very very high I immediately started playing the outsiders and this was one of the first texts I sent
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The fact that I only made three typos is impressive I think
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theonottsbxtch ¡ 3 months ago
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🐴 hi again! I loved the oscar series. So I have an idea but this time for Max again! (I’m a max girlie through and through 🙂‍↕️)
Okay so! Could you possibly do a cowgirl!reader x cowboy!Max? Maybe a barrel racer!reader and bull rider!Max (he seems like a bull rider ngl). Its maybe second chance for Max? He started to be there for her, showing up for her when she needs it. Something happened to the reader (up to you) and he showed up for her once again which causes the reader to reevaluate him. And the rest? Up to you! :)
Psps i love giving you my ideas and seeing them come to life! Goodbye for now, 🐴
WHAT'S LEFT BEHIND PT.1 | MV1
an: as an honorary texan (i've been friends with one for seven years) this was so fun to write ehehhehheh ANYWAY ENJOY THIS SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE!!
summary: when max verstappen left his childhood girlfriend behind to face her career ending injury alone to chase his dreams of being the best bull rider the country has ever seen, he thought it would be easy. except it wasn't, he was back in town and they hated him, for one reason. they hurt their star barrel racer.
wc: 4.2k
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8 years ago
The crowd roared, but she barely heard it. The adrenaline coursing through her veins drowned out everything but the rhythmic pounding of Luna’s hooves beneath her, the barrels blurring in her vision as she pushed harder, faster, urging her horse around the final turn. They were almost there.
Almost.
The split-second misstep was enough. One wrong move, and Luna’s front hoof caught the edge of the last barrel. The world tilted, her balance slipping. And then she was falling—weightless for just a breath before the ground came up to meet her, hard and unforgiving. Pain exploded in her leg, white-hot and blinding, shooting through her entire body like wildfire.
She barely registered the panicked shout from the stands. The sound of boots hitting the dirt. Then hands—his hands—on her.
"Don’t move! I’m here, I’m here!" Max’s voice was frantic, the fear clear in his eyes as he knelt beside her. She could see the tremble in his hands, but his grip was steady, reassuring as he cradled her head and kept her still. "Help is coming, sweetheart don’t move.”
She tried to breathe through the pain, tried to focus on his face, but the edges of her vision blurred. All she could think about was how everything had changed in a heartbeat. She’d trained for this her whole life. Barrel racing was all she had, all she’d ever wanted. And now it was slipping through her fingers.
She reached out, her hand finding his. “Max…”
“I’m right here,” he whispered, squeezing her fingers. His voice was hoarse, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening either. "You’re gonna be okay, I promise."
But she could see the fear in his eyes. Fear that mirrored her own.
That was all she remembered when she passed out.
And when she woke up, she was in the hospital.
The antiseptic smell of the hospital was a far cry from the dust and heat of the rodeo arena. She lay in the sterile bed, her leg encased in a cast, throbbing with a dull ache that barely scratched the surface of the pain inside her.
The doctors said the break was bad. Real bad. Recovery would be slow. And even then… they weren’t sure she’d ever race again.
She hadn’t cried when they told her. She just stared at the ceiling, feeling like a hollow shell of herself, like her whole world had caved in on her. The only thing keeping her tethered to the present was the thought of Max. He hadn’t left her side at the arena, had promised her she’d be okay. He’d said he was there for her.
So where was he now?
The door creaked open, and she looked up, expecting him, hoping for him. But it was her mother who stepped inside, her face drawn tight with an expression that immediately set alarm bells ringing in her head.
“Mom?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is it time for my meds?”
Her mother hesitated, wringing her hands together. “Honey… I have something to tell you.”
The calm that had settled in her chest evaporated. “What is it?” she asked, anxiety prickling at the back of her mind. “Is it about my leg?”
Her mother stepped closer, the shadows under her eyes deepening. “No, it’s… it’s about Max.”
“Max?” The name felt heavy on her tongue, like a weight pulling her down. “What about him?”
Her mother sighed, her expression torn between sympathy and something else—anger? Disappointment? “He’s gone.”
The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating, and for a moment, she couldn’t process what she’d just heard. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”
“He left,” her mother said gently, her voice shaking. “After the rodeo, there was a scout. He got an offer… a chance to go pro. He packed up and went. He didn’t want to tell you while you were still in the hospital.”
A cold wave of disbelief washed over her. This can’t be happening. “No,” she said, shaking her head slowly, as if denying it could change the reality. “He wouldn’t do that. Not to me. Not after everything.”
Her mother reached out, a comforting hand on her shoulder, but it only made her feel more trapped. “I know it’s hard to understand, sweetheart. He was excited about it. He thought… he thought it would be better for both of you.”
“But I needed him!” The words burst out, sharp and raw, like the pain throbbing in her leg. “I was hurt! I thought we were a team!” She could feel her heart racing, each beat echoing the disbelief and betrayal that coursed through her veins.
“I know,” her mother said softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But he didn’t see it that way. He thought it was his chance to make something of himself. He didn’t think you’d want him to stay behind.”
The room felt as if it were closing in on her, the walls pressing down like the weight of a thousand expectations. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All those memories of the two of them, the laughter, the promises—they felt like cruel jokes now. The pain in her leg was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.
“What did he say?” she demanded, desperation lacing her words. “Did he even look back? Did he say goodbye?”
Her mother looked away, a pained expression crossing her face. “He… he didn’t want to see you like this. He thought it would hurt more.”
A bitter laugh escaped her lips, surprising even herself. “So he just left? Just like that?” The anger bubbled up, a volcano ready to erupt. “He’s chasing some stupid dream while I’m stuck here?”
“He’s just a kid, too,” her mother said gently, but the words felt like a weak balm on a festering wound. “He didn’t know what to do. He thought it was best to leave you with the hope of recovery, not the reality of…”
“Not the reality of him abandoning me!” she snapped, rage surging through her. “I don’t care about his dreams! He was supposed to be here!”
The tears finally spilled over, streaking down her cheeks as she let the full weight of her heartbreak crash over her. Each sob felt like a release, but it didn’t take away the gnawing emptiness inside. Her mother’s arms enveloped her, but she felt distant, lost in a sea of despair.
“It’s not fair,” she cried, her voice muffled against her mother’s shoulder. “It’s not fair that I’m the one who’s hurt, and he just gets to run away.”
“I know, honey. I know,” her mother murmured, holding her tight as if to shield her from the pain. “But you’re stronger than this. You’ll get through it.”
But in that moment, as she clung to her mother, she felt anything but strong. The world outside the hospital window continued, people going about their lives as if nothing had changed. But for her, everything had shifted, and she didn’t know how to find her way back.
PRESENT TIME
The barn smelled like hay, leather, and the faintest trace of saddle soap—familiar, comforting scents that grounded her. She moved with practised ease, brushing down Luna, her mind quiet for the first time in days. Her mare’s grey coat shimmered under her hands, and the steady rhythm of the brush helped drown out the restless thoughts that always lingered too close.
Out here, surrounded by the soft sounds of the horses shifting in their stalls, she could almost forget. Forget the past, forget the pain, forget the way her life had derailed eight years ago and the way it had never really gotten back on track.
The barn door creaked open, and she glanced up to see her childhood best friend, Heidi, walking in with a stack of freshly folded saddle pads. She and Heidi had worked this barn together for years now, caring for the horses, prepping for the local shows. It was their world, their escape from everything else. Although, as her and her boyfriend Daniel were getting serious, she was working less hours.
Heidi set the pads down on a tack trunk and stretched her back, groaning as if she’d been doing manual labour for hours. "Why do we do this again?" she teased, eyeing Luna. "Surely there’s an easier way to make a living."
"Could always take up bull riding," she shot back dryly, not looking up from her work. "I hear there’s good money in it."
Heidi snorted, leaning against the stall door. "Yeah, well, we both know what that road leads to."
Silence fell between them for a second, thick and familiar, before Heidi cleared her throat. “So… guess who’s back in town?”
She didn’t even pause her brushing, keeping her movements smooth, controlled. “No idea,” she muttered, eyes fixed on Luna’s glossy coat. “Who?”
“Max.”
The name hung in the air like dust motes caught in a sunbeam—small but impossible to ignore.
Her hand stilled for just a moment, her grip tightening on the brush. She forced herself to keep going, resuming the strokes over Luna’s back like nothing had changed. “Huh,” she said after a beat, voice carefully neutral. “Didn’t think he’d come back.”
Heidi folded her arms, watching her closely. “Yeah, well, he’s here. Saw him at the feed store this morning. Said he’s back for good.”
“Good for him.” She switched sides, moving to Luna’s other flank. “Guess the big, glamorous rodeo life didn’t turn out the way he wanted.”
Heidi’s eyes narrowed, her lips twitching into the slightest smirk. “You don’t care?”
“Why would I care?” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s been eight years. I’m 25 now, have my life and I’ve moved on.”
“Have you?” Heidi’s voice was soft but knowing. She didn’t move from her spot at the stall door, and for the first time, her friend’s presence felt a little too close.
She gritted her teeth, focusing on the repetitive motion of the brush. It was easier that way, focusing on something else. Something solid. “I don’t see what it has to do with me,” she said after a moment. “He left, I stayed. End of story.”
Heidi raised an eyebrow. “Right. Except it’s not the end, is it?”
She didn’t respond, didn’t trust herself to say anything without the flood of emotions she’d worked so hard to bury spilling out. She hadn’t even thought about Max, not really. He was just a part of the past, a chapter she’d closed long ago. Or so she told herself.
But the truth was, she had thought about him. In the quiet moments, when the ache in her leg flared up and the memories of that day—the day everything fell apart—came rushing back. She hated herself for it, but sometimes she wondered what it would have been like if he had stayed, if they’d faced it together instead of him running off to chase his dreams.
“You know…” Heidi’s voice softened, her teasing edge fading. “It’s okay if it still bothers you.”
She scoffed, shaking her head. “It doesn’t. He’s nothing to me anymore. That part of my life is over.”
Heidi didn’t buy it. She never did. They’d been friends too long for that. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”
Her chest tightened, the brush stalling in her hand again as the words scraped against the raw parts of her heart. She hated how Heidi could see through her so easily, could read the cracks in the armour she’d built so carefully. “Heidi, I’m fine. Really.”
But Heidi wasn’t letting it go. “Come on. You can act like you don’t care, but I saw the way you froze when I said his name. You think I don’t know? It’s okay if this shakes you up. You don’t have to pretend.”
“I’m not pretending.” The words came out a little too fast, too sharp, and she winced at the way they echoed in the barn. She set the brush down, her hands suddenly trembling, and wiped them on her jeans, trying to shake off the feeling that had wrapped itself around her chest like a vice. “I’m not.”
Heidi didn’t say anything, just stood there with that same patient, knowing look. She had the decency not to push further, but she didn’t need to. The damage was already done, the emotions bubbling just beneath the surface now.
She let out a long breath, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Look, I’m just focused on work right now, okay? Max can do whatever he wants. He’s got nothing to do with me anymore.”
But even as she said it, she knew she was lying. Knew Heidi could see the truth. And somewhere deep down, she was afraid—afraid that no matter how much time had passed, no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, Max Verstappen still had the power to turn her world upside down.
Heidi gave her a long, searching look, then finally nodded. “Okay,” she said quietly. “But just know, if you ever need to talk, I’m here. I know it’s not as simple as you want it to be.”
She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Thanks.”
As Heidi turned to leave the barn, the silence rushed back in, pressing heavy on her shoulders. She picked up the brush again, returning to Luna ’s side, but her movements were slower now, distracted. The rhythm was gone, replaced by a tangled mess of thoughts she couldn’t quite push away.
He was back.
And as much as she wanted to pretend it didn’t matter, she knew it did. More than she’d ever admit.
And after that news, there was only one person she wanted to see.
The familiar creak of her mother’s screen door was like stepping into another life, one she wasn’t sure how to fit into anymore. The house hadn’t changed—same wooden porch swing, same flower pots overflowing with wild daisies. It was the kind of place that felt frozen in time, which used to be comforting. Now it just felt suffocating.
She knocked once before pushing the door open, stepping into the cosy warmth of the kitchen. Her mother stood by the stove, stirring something that smelled like cinnamon and butter, her apron tied loosely around her waist.
“Hey, honey,” her mother said without turning around, as if she’d known she was coming before the door even opened. “Didn’t think I’d see you today.”
She shrugged, kicking off her boots at the door like she always had. “Just thought I’d stop by.”
Her mother glanced over her shoulder, her brow creasing slightly as she took in her daughter’s tight expression. “Everything okay?”
She didn’t answer right away, instead walking over to the kitchen table and pulling out a chair. The wood scraped against the floor, breaking the silence between them. “He’s back.”
Her mother stilled, the spoon pausing mid-stir. For a moment, there was nothing but the ticking of the old clock on the wall and the faint sound of the wind rattling the windows.
“Max?” her mother finally asked, her voice cautious.
She nodded, running her hand over the worn edge of the table. “Yeah. Heidi saw him earlier and said he’s back for good.”
Her mother sighed, setting the spoon down on the counter before wiping her hands on a dish towel. “And how do you feel about that?”
“I don’t.” She leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “It doesn’t matter to me. He can come and go as he pleases.”
Her mother gave her a long, patient look—the kind only a mother can give, the one that sees right through every defence. “You sure about that?”
She scoffed, glancing away. “What do you want me to say? That I’m still angry? That I haven’t forgiven him? Because I haven’t.”
Her mother pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, folding her hands on the table. “I’m not saying you need to forgive him right away. But holding onto all that hurt… it’s not good for you. Carrying that grudge for so long—it eats away at you, whether you realise it or not.”
She rolled her eyes. “Mum, please. Don’t give me that wisdom-of-the-ages crap. He left me when I needed him. That’s not something I can just… let go.”
“I’m not saying you should forget what happened,” her mother said softly. “But holding onto the anger? That’s like drinking poison and hoping the other person gets sick.”
“Bullshit,” she snapped, standing up so quickly the chair legs scraped against the floor. “I’m not drinking anything. I’m just—” She broke off, her voice cracking. “I’m just fine. I don’t need to forgive him, and I don’t need your advice on how to deal with it. It’s done. It’s been done for years.”
Her mother didn’t flinch at the outburst, only watched her with that same calm, understanding expression. “I’m not trying to tell you how to feel, honey. But you’re not the same girl you were eight years ago. Neither is he. People change.”
“Maybe,” she muttered, grabbing her keys from the table. “But I haven’t changed that much.”
Without waiting for her mother to respond, she turned on her heel and headed for the door, her boots thudding against the wooden floor. She didn’t even bother to say goodbye before she stepped back outside into the cool evening air, the sting of her mother’s words still fresh.
She yanked open the door of her truck, sliding behind the wheel with more force than necessary. The engine rumbled to life, and she gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Grudges aren’t healthy? How could her mother even say that? Of course she was still mad. He’d left her when she was broken—physically and emotionally. Just up and left without a word. She’d been nothing to him, just a stepping stone on his way to glory. And now that glory had turned sour, he wanted to come crawling back?
She slammed her foot on the gas, sending the truck down the dirt road leading away from her mother’s house. The sky above had turned a deep, bruised purple as the sun set behind the hills, casting long shadows across the fields. She didn’t care where she was going; she just needed to get away from the conversation, from the memories that her mother had stirred up.
But the universe, it seemed, had other plans.
Not five minutes down the road, the truck sputtered, jerked violently, and then… silence.
“No, no, no, no…” she muttered, hitting the steering wheel in frustration as the truck coasted to a stop. “Not now.”
She turned the key again, but all she got was the tired groan of an engine that had given up on her just like everything else. Perfect.
She rested her head against the steering wheel, closing her eyes. It was almost laughable, really—how her life always seemed to fall apart at the worst possible times. Here she was, trying to outrun her past, and now she was stuck on the side of some desolate back road with nothing but her thoughts for company.
The irony wasn’t lost on her.
After a few minutes, she pushed open the door and stepped out into the fading light. The road stretched out before her, empty and quiet, with no sign of anyone else for miles. She kicked at the dirt in frustration, her boots scuffing the ground. There was nothing to do but wait.
She leaned back against the hood of her truck, arms crossed, staring at the horizon. She hadn’t wanted to think about him, hadn’t wanted to feel anything about him. But now that he was back, it was like every carefully built wall she’d put up was crumbling all over again.
And maybe—just maybe—her mother had a point, as much as she hated to admit it.
But there was no way she was ready to deal with that. Not yet.
She kicked the dirt under her boots and stared down the empty road, arms crossed, the fading twilight casting a purplish hue over the fields. Her truck sat stubbornly in the middle of the gravel, as immobile and obstinate as her memories. She’d called a repair service, but out here, that could mean waiting an hour or two—or more.
As she leaned against the hood, the air cool against her skin, she heard the low rumble of an engine in the distance. A truck approached, its headlights cutting through the dusky shadows. She straightened up, squinting as it drew closer, a vague sense of unease settling in her chest.
The truck slowed, and as it pulled up beside hers, she recognised it immediately. Of course.
Max.
He leaned out the open window, his expression a mixture of concern and hesitation, like he knew he had no right to stop but couldn’t help himself. “You alright?”
She stared at him, arms still crossed, a muscle ticking in her jaw. “I’m fine.”
He glanced from her to the truck, then back at her. “Looks like you’re stranded.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Sharp as ever, I see.”
He ignored the jab, shifting the truck into park as if he were getting out. “I’ve got some tools in the back. Let me take a look.”
“No.”
He paused, hand on the door handle, confusion flickering across his face. “No?”
“You heard me.” She pushed herself off the hood and walked a few steps toward him, her eyes hard, voice cutting like glass. “I don’t need your help. Didn’t need it eight years ago to get better, and I sure as hell don’t need it now.”
His brow furrowed, his jaw tightening slightly as he held her gaze. She saw the flash of guilt there—the same guilt she’d been holding onto for so long—but it didn’t make her feel better. Not like it should’ve.
“I’m just trying to—” he started, but she cut him off.
“I know what you’re trying to do, Max.” Her voice was sharp, cold. “You feel bad, right? You think you can fix everything with a wrench and a couple of well-placed apologies? But this isn’t something you can fix. You can’t just pop the hood on the past and make it all run smoothly again.”
He stepped out of the truck, shutting the door behind him with a quiet thud, but stayed at a distance, not getting too close. “It’s not like that. I just saw you were stuck. Thought you might need a hand.”
She barked out a laugh, humourless and bitter. “I’m not some damsel in distress. I don’t need you riding in to save me, Max. I can handle my own problems.”
His eyes softened, his voice low as he spoke. “I know you can handle yourself. You always could. But it doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”
She glared at him, fists clenched at her sides. He didn’t get it. He couldn’t get it. “I’ve been doing it alone since the moment you left. I didn’t have a choice.”
The words hung heavy between them, the weight of years of anger and hurt settling like dust around them. He took a breath, about to say something, but her eyes flicked to the back of his truck.
The bed of his truck was cluttered with various tools, and there, half-buried under a coil of rope, was a large, well-worn toolbox.
“Give me your tools,” she said suddenly, her voice hard. “That’s all I need from you. Hand them over and go.”
He blinked, caught off guard. “You want to—”
“I said, give me the tools,” she repeated, the steel in her voice leaving no room for argument. “I’ll fix the damn thing myself. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty like those podium princesses you’ve been hanging around.”
The barb hit its mark, his expression tightening just enough for her to notice. But instead of snapping back, he walked to the back of the truck, pulling the toolbox out and handing it to her without a word.
She snatched it from him, the weight of it familiar and grounding. “Thanks. Now go.”
For a moment, he didn’t move. He just stood there, looking at her like he wanted to say something more, something important. But she wasn’t in the mood for whatever half-baked apology or explanation he thought would make up for everything.
She glared at him, daring him to argue, to push her any further.
Finally, with a slow nod, he turned and walked back to his truck. She watched as he climbed in, the door shutting with a soft click. He didn’t look back at her as he drove away, the sound of his engine fading into the distance.
She stood there for a long moment, the toolbox in her hands, her chest tight with the familiar swirl of emotions she couldn’t seem to shake.
This was better. She’d handle this alone, just like she always had. She wasn’t that broken girl anymore, waiting for someone to come along and pick up the pieces. She didn’t need anyone—especially not Max Verstappen.
She set the toolbox down and crouched beside the truck, wrench in hand, ready to prove to herself, once again, that she could do it. That she didn’t need anyone else to fix what was broken.
part two
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theformulaimagines ¡ 2 months ago
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Look at that woman (breaking my heart) | part three
Pairing: Lewis Hamilton × Vettel!Reader
Summary: For one and a half years Lewis and y/n managed to keep their relationship a secret, until it blew up in their faces. Now, they're trying their hardest to pick up the pieces...
Warnings: age gap (reader is 27), fluff and angst, plot is thickening…
masterlist
The morning after…
He knows that he shouldn’t be in this bed anymore. He should’ve left the moment he woke up and realized that he wasn’t in his own hotel room. He should’ve done so many things, like taking a cold shower and texting y/n that last night was nothing more but a mistake. That she is simply too young for him and that her brother is his best friend. “Last night shouldn’t have happened, I hope we can move on from this and remain friends.” Yes, that’s exactly what he should’ve texted her.
But he didn’t. Instead, he has been watching her and the way her head is comfortably laying on his arm for the last hour. Y/N’s hand is gently holding onto his biceps. He has known this woman for such a long time- when did things change? His right hand brushes a few strands of hair out of her face, which earns him a soft sigh in return. This is nice. He vows to himself to get to know her better- in a different way.
He can feel her stir and a moment later a sweet smile appears on her lips. “Hey.”, she softly says, voice raspy and fragile. Almost like honey dripping down a spoon. Lewis can’t help but mirror the smile:” Hey.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“I dreamt about you, so pretty good. Yeah.”
Y/N lets out a weak chuckle and rubs her eyes:” You’re that charming after weaking up? Give me five minutes.” At that Lewis laughs before propping himself up on his elbows:“ Take your time…“ He sees how Y/N opens her mouth to response to him when suddenly his phone rings.
y/nvettel has made a post
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liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1, sebastianvettel and 1,368,222 others
y/nvettel: had to visit my favorite boys 🙂‍↕️💜 thanks for having me
view all comments…
user 1: ROSCOE!!!!!!!
user 2: wdym your “boys”??? george’s missing :((
user 3: @/user2 i think she means something else by “her” boys 👀👀👀
mercedesamgf1: coming home must have felt amazing, right?? 🤩😉
user 4: not one post with nico... suspicious 🤨🤨🤨
user 5: @/user4 right??? she has hundreds of lewis but none of her "boyfriend" 🙄
roscoelovescoco: love you auntie y/n ❤️
“Who is it?”, Y/N asks tilting her head, and Lewis rolls over to grab his vibrating phone off the bedside table. “It’s my manager.”, he mumbles:” It’s- it’s too early for him to call me.” His eyes move up the screen: 8:34 am.
The moment he presses the green button he can hear different voices talking over one another. “Lewis?”, his manager, James, declares almost immediately. “Yeah?”
“Please.”, James says, and the driver can hear the annoyance and bitterness in his voice:” Please, tell me you’re not with her right now.”
His eyes move back to Y/N, who is scanning his features for any signs. “What if I am?”
There’s a lengthy and heavy silence before James lets out a deep groan. Lewis can practically feel the frustration coming through the phone. “Why do you care so much about that kind of thing? You haven’t before.”
“Why do I care-? Lewis, there are photos of you and Y/N circulating online. You do know what the people are going to say about that- about you, right?”, his voice is suddenly very calm, too calm for this type of situation. “You have known this girl since she was a teenager. You were already in your twenties. You know what they’re going to say about that- think about your reputation. Please, I need you to focus on what’s important.”
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