#sweatshirt 2019

[puppethistoryhive]

i miss reddie so much, like 2019 was the year of them. i miss all the high school fanart, the fanfiction!!! like fucking mixtape?? that shit tore me Apart. there were so many quirkly little fanfics on wattpad that never got finished and i was always so sad because they were so good!!!! as much as the fandom loved (and loves because not all of us are totally dead) to joke about how it was always so stereotypical and inaccurate, there were so many original and unique stories!!! i just miss my silly guys :((

[mgjiyu]

If Charles wins in Monza next weekend, I’ll buy some merch

[zibanejad]

going to the rangers game a month earlier than planned

[heppy-22]

Get this cool blinking guy meme shirt for the new year !

[seymourmusicclub]

Earl Sweatshirt - EL TORO COMBO MEAL feat. Mavi (Lyric Video)

[naomiscottstyle]

What: Nike hooded sweatshirt - $106

Where: Getting out of LAX

When: March 21st, 2019

[delulujuls]

young, dumb & bwoke | ln4

hi! as u can see i couldn't stop myself from writing about last saturday events in amsterdam with mr norris as main star (he was more popular than the king himself lmao). lando is literally what i always bring to the function and yup, enjoy him being the chaotic drunk bestie while max and y/n are his literal party parents. its nothing crazy and without plot basically, i just added sum to this years' koningsdag so yeah, enjoy!

summary: there is nothing that lando loves more than a good party and his beloved dutch friends so imagine him with drink in his cup surrounded by whole orange nation. it could be nuts and it was

warnings: TONS of alcohol, lando being drunk (and hurted), mentions of blood, basically sum chaos

pairing: fem!dutch!bff!reader x lando norris (ft. max verstappen)

Lando couldn't wait for the plane he was on to break through the heavy cloud cover and land in Amsterdam.

China and Miami, which were the next rounds on the calendar, were separated by two weeks that were nothing else, in Lando's case, than a time of stagnation. Add to this the fact that Lando had bad memories of his performance in China and, what's worse, the sprint he failed so badly and which constantly played in his head like a jammed record, one could go crazy. That's why the Brit was extremely happy when he received an invitation to spend the weekend in the capital of the Netherlands. He was invited to Amsterdam to celebrate King Willem's birthday by none other than his favorite flying Dutch.

The friendship of Y/N, Max and Lando began in 2019, practically from the very moment he entered Formula 1. The kid, who was barely 20 years old but looked like 12, immediately won over the Dutch couple with his smile and sense of humor, who, due to their sometimes severe temperament, could not boast of having many friends in the paddock. Even though the three friends were only two years apart, Max and Y/N naturally became Lando's racing parents, with whom the Brit spent practically every moment, from time in the paddock, through celebrating on the podium, to time away from competitions. So it was no surprise when they invited him to spend the weekend together, to which he, of course, eagerly agreed.

When the plane landed, Lando pulled the hood of his orange sweatshirt over his head and slung his backpack over his shoulder, in which he packed everything he might need for the coming days. As you could guess, there wasn't much of it, he actually had everything he needed on him and the most important part was an oversized orange sweatshirt. Waiting for him at the airport was Y/N, who couldn't wait to see him. She didn't have to wait too long, because a moment later he walked out in front of the terminal. Y/N smiled as she saw her friend walking towards her and she hugged him tightly.

"You knew I was coming, you could have asked the king for better weather," Lando joked, trying to sound serious, which only made the girl giggle.

"If you think that the weather will have any influence on what will happen in the evening, then unfortunately I will have to disappoint you," she replied, getting into the car. "It's already starting to get crowded in downtown, and it's not even noon."

Lando threw his backpack into the backseat and got into the passenger side. He smiled like a child, looking forward to how the weekend would unfold. It looked like he would spend a nice few days, able to finally de-stress and relax, and in the company of friends. But speaking of friends, one of them was missing.

"And where's Max?" he asked as they left the airport and were on their way to the girl's apartment. "I thought he had been waiting for me with the welcome committee since yesterday."

"He's already in town, I dropped him off while I was on my way to pick you up."

"He's fast," Lando laughed and shook his head, "I hope he's still on his feet when we get to him."

At that moment, Lando didn't think about the fact that no one else but himself would be able to stay on his feet. When the Brit set off for Amsterdam, he obviously expected to spend two days drunk, with legs sore from dancing and a sore throat from singing, but he forgot that he has absolutely no immunity to alcohol.

When the three friends were finally together, alcohol quickly appeared in their hands. Y/N and Max started with beer, but Lando had no intention of wasting his time drinking something that would only cause pressure on his bladder. As soon as he boarded one of the barges floating on the Herenbracht Canal, he drank several shots at once. Y/N and Max just exchanged glances as he drank the drink standing on Garrix's console in one gulp, who didn't care one bit about it, being already in a good mood himself.

"I'm a little worried about how this might end," Max said in her ear as she took a sip of her cider, watching Lando jump happily.

"Even if he's drunk, so what," she replied, handing him her bottle and taking away the body paints in circulation, "He didn't come here to be bored."

Max was about to say something, but she pushed his hand slightly, bringing the bottle he was holding to his lips. Max shook his head and took a few sips from it, while the girl started painting flags on his cheeks. When she finished, she waved them up, attracting Lando's attention, who understood what she meant and nodded eagerly. The girl squeezed through the console and stood next to him, leaning him against the barge rails, because Lando had trouble not bobbing to the music for a moment.

The smile that never left his face wrinkled his cheeks, on which she tried to paint Dutch flags. When she finished and turned to pass the paints, Lando took off her sunglasses and put them on himself.

"Have a drink with me!" Lando shouted, holding out his empty cup to her, and she raised her cider bottle in response. He rolled his eyes in dissatisfaction when suddenly a bottle of vodka appeared in the crowd and someone handed it straight to his hands. Without much thought, Lando unscrewed the cap and took a few sips as if the contents were water, which of course met with the crowd's approval.

Y/N took the bottle from his hands, fearing not the amount Lando drank, but the relatively short time it took him to do so. However, not wanting to seem boring, she tilted the bottle herself, letting the liquid burn her throat. Delighted, Lando clapped his hands and hugged his friend, causing some of the alcohol to flow down her chin. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist as well, and raised her hand in a toast, which was joined by everyone who had something to drink.

Max also raised his beer bottle a bit. However, somewhere in the background of his mind there was an image of Lando and what he would look like in the near future. However, the Brit himself did not care at all about this. As long as he was in the company of his friends, his plastic cup was full and he could jump to the music and sing along, he was happy. Even the fact that his face was in the wrong place at the wrong time, when someone, completely by accident, punched him in the face, didn't disturb it.

Y/N, who also decided to pick up the pace after drinking her cider, immediately sobered up when she saw blood on her friend's face. She quickly pressed a tissue to his nose, but he tried to assure her that he was fine. His brain didn't encode the impact or the pain, didn't acknowledge that he was bleeding, even when he ran his tongue over his lips and tasted blood on them. People in the crowd started calling out to each other to see if anyone had a first aid kit. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bandage appeared, and just as Y/N, being drunk, thought it would be a great idea to wrap Lando's face in a bandage, Max started asking people if they somehow had band aids. He couldn't let that dumbass parade around like that for the rest of the evening.

“I've sobered up a bit, I can keep drinking,” he said as Y/N finished clumsily bandaging his face, “I probably look worse that i did when i crashed in Vegas.”

Her friend tried to be serious, but it was impossible to stay serious around Lando. "You have to be careful, Lan," she said, trying to retain some sanity and touching his cheek, looking into his eyes, "I hope it's not broken."

"Bwoken," he repeated in silly voice, giggling "Oh no, it couldn't be bwoken"

"Honestly, i also hope it is not," Max interjected when he managed to rejoin his friends after some time, "Getting to the hospital now would be a near miracle."

"Hey, I'm fine," he said as Max waved the Band-Aids in his face and began to remove the clumsy bandage into which their friend had probably poured her whole heart and a few drinks that she drank earlier.

"I'm glad you don't feel anything, but that doesn't change the fact that I won't look at it," he replied, lifting his chin and examining his nose from every angle. Luckily this one seemed fine.

Once Max had placed two tiny patches on him, Y/N handed him his mug with a fresh drink again. "Brave patient," she smiled at him.

"In a state like this, I'd be surprised if he felt something," Max admitted, taking a bottle of vodka standing nearby. He decided that since Lando had had an accident, nothing worse awaited them and he could allow himself to loosen a bit more. He took a few sips and handed the bottle to the younger one, who smiled, tightening his hand around it. He looked at his friends standing in front of him, slightly drunk but still fully focused on him. He knew he was important to them and that he is not alone in all this madness.

"I love you guys," he said, with a bottle in his hand, pushing himself off the railing and hugging them, "You are the best in the world, simply the best."

The rest of the day and later in the evening took place in a great atmosphere and the party lasted until 3. in the morning. For the rest of Amsterdam it probably lasted longer, but for Lando it began to end after two o'clock, when he was barely able to stand. Partly from being drunk, partly from being tired. He didn't stand still during a single song, so the next day, apart from his face, his legs will certainly be visible. Taking a break for something warm to eat, Max, Y/N, and Lando sat down at one of the wooden tables. While waiting for their orders, Lando rested his head on Y/N's shoulder and closed his eyes. It was obvious that he just needed something to lean on to fall asleep.

"I think it's time for us to go," the girl announced, directing her words to Max. "The baby is only fit for bed now."

"He's been in great shape for a long time anyway, judging by how much he was on his feet today," Max concluded, glancing first at him and then at the girl, "But you're holding up pretty well, aren't you?"

"Yes, I do," she nodded and hugged Lando, who began to slide off her shoulder, "But I'm also getting sleepy."

"Me too," Max rubbed his face with his hands, "At least we can be sure that no one will wake us up first thing in the morning to explore the city."

He said, glancing at Lando, who was dozing with his mouth open on his friend's shoulder. After eating casseroles and fries, which were for Lando and which he was unable to eat, the three of them went to the girl's apartment. Of course, only she and Max were walking on their own, Lando was between them, leaning on their arms. He was muttering something incomprehensible under his breath, so it was obvious that he was alive and everything was fine, besides the fact that he was completely drunk.

When they arrived at the address and crossed the threshold of the apartment, they immediately went to put him in the bedroom, not wasting time in unfolding the couch for him. Max was in the process of stripping him of his shoes, pants, bloody sweatshirt, and all the necklaces and ribbons he had collected the previous day, while Y/N placed a large bottle of water, painkillers, and a bucket by his bed, as if the contents of his stomach had suddenly decided that they wants to get outside. However, there was no indication that Lando was going to have a restless night, because he started snoring softly as soon as his cheek touched the pillow. Max covered him with the blanket and took a few steps away from the bed, standing next to his friend who was looking at the sleeping boy.

"Can you hear that?" Max whispered, glancing at her, and she frowned questioningly, "It's silence, listen to it, because when he gets up, the only thing you can hear will be his lamentations about how hungover he is."

The girl snorted quietly and shook her head, taking Lando's clothes to the laundry.

"The most important thing is that he had a good time. And a little hangover never killed nobody."

The next day, however, did not bring anything unexpected. When Lando woke up, the first thing that hit him was a terrible headache that got worse when he sat down and tried to get out of bed. When he stood in the doorway of the bedroom, Y/N and Max's eyes immediately went towards him and Lando could swear that they looked like they spent the entire last evening on the couch.

"Hi honey, did you sleep well?" Max asked playfully, in the perfect mood for jokes since he himself was fine after last night.

Lando just blinked several times and wanted to wipe his face with his hands and collect some words to answer, but when he touched his cut nose, he cursed loudly.

"What the fuck?"

"A souvenir from yesterday," the girl answered him, getting up from the couch and taking out a frozen package from the fridge, which she handed to him, "I recommend a shower and I'll make you some coffee."

He closed his eyes and put the package to his nose, sighing and grabbing the bathroom door handle. Before he disappeared, Max just shouted after him.

"And don't puke in the shower!"

[babydollmarauders]

SECOND (TO NONE) — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n has spent most of her life loving Jack, only to always come up second to her sister

notes: can you tell i love Little Women? with that being said, i was extremely inspired by THE Laurie and Amy scene in Little Women (2019), therefore, one portion of dialogue in this fic is not my own but instead borrowed from the scene and all credits for that go to Greta Gerwig. (5.3k words)

it started on september 20th, 2017.

how pathetic is that? i remember the exact date that my sister brought home the boy i would fawn over for the rest of my days.

i remember it clear as day, though most of it could be from the long-held sisterly grudge of my sister telling me to take the bus home; she was waiting for a friend and didn’t want me ‘bugging’ them.

at the time, i figured it was one of her girl friends. but merely a few hours later, i would meet Jack Hughes.

that day would be the wrecking ball for the next six years of my life. day in and day out, from the ages of fifteen to twenty-one, if you were to ask me what i was thinking of, or rather who, the answer would always be Jack.

i spent years of my life wasting away in the agony of unrequited love. because while i was pining over him, he was pining over her.

*** May 6th, 2018 ***

my shirt sticks to my chest, raindrops drenching my clothing and my shoes thoroughly soaked from deep puddles. laughing as i reach the front porch, i glance behind me in await of my best friend.

“Spencer, you’re getting soaked!” i state, though i’m sure he’s extremely aware of his own status.

“it’s just water, y/n. it’s not hurting anyone.” i roll my eyes, Spencer’s natural poetic demeanor incredibly unsettling for a seventeen year old boy.

as he meets me on the porch, my hand finds the front doorknob, slinging open the door and stepping into the warm air. my clothes drip onto the entrance rug, Spencer pushing me aside in order to step in and shut the door behind us.

“mom! we’re home!” my voice echoes throughout the house as i slip my wet sandals off, dropping my shopping bags on the entryway table, Spencer following suit.

“she’s not home! she’s having lunch with Ellen!” my sister’s voice calls back, drifting towards me from the living room.

wandering down the hallway towards the living area, i peel Spencer’s US National Development Program sweatshirt over my head, my cream colored shirt rising slightly as it sticks to the wet hoodie.

“you’ll never guess who Spence and i saw at the-” my words fail me as i reach the living room, my sister sat on the couch beside her own best friend.

all too quickly, i’m suddenly self-conscious about my appearance. finding insecurity in the way my hair has frizzed up from the humidity of the day, and the way my saturated clothes stick to my body as though covered in honey.

nestled into Jack’s side, Sara raises an eyebrow towards me, her expression silently ordering me to leave; a stark contrast to that of her close friend, who smiles warmly towards me.

“hey, bug.” Jack grins, his arm slung around my sister’s shoulder and effectively stinging my soul. “sup, Spence?”

my best friend smiles at his teammate, ignoring Sara’s deadly stare and making himself at home on the gray couch.

“hey, Hughesy.” Spencer gives a nod of acknowledgment, “hey, malibu barbie.”

“i have a name, Knight.” Sara hisses, her nose scrunching in disgust towards my friend. “you’re getting the couch wet.”

“mhm.” Spencer mindlessly hums, turning his head to look back at my still motionless figure, “you coming, y/n/n?”

nodding, i join the three of them on the ‘L’ shaped couch.

“hi, Jack.” i can feel my face flush already, blood rising to my cheeks; the most traitorous display of my feelings.

but Jack just smiles, “how was the mall? crowded?”

“no, actually pretty empty for a weekend.” i reply, my voice meek.

Spencer cuts in, sending me an obnoxious and horribly hidden smirk, “should’ve come, Hughesy. you could’ve kept me company while this one tried on all her new pretty clothes.”

if this was my friend’s attempt at helping me, it sure was a sucky one. Sara’s eyes bounce between Jack, Spencer, and, i before she rolls them, announcing her departure to the bathroom. pushing off the couch, she knocks Jack’s arm off of her shoulders, his smile dropping just slightly as she leaves the room.

“kinda wanted to go.” Jack clears his throat, “but Sara wasn’t feeling it.”

now it’s Spencer’s turn to roll his eyes, nodding his head in understanding, “ah yes, and what Sara wants, Sara gets.”

if this were any other context, the months-long feud between my sister and my best friend would be amusing me in the highest degree; but in the moment, all i can feel is the nausea that bubbles up as Jack’s cheeks twinge pink at his teammates teasing.

“shut up, Spence.” he mutters, eyes flickering back towards me, slightly widened as if he just remembered i was there, “maybe you should do a fashion show for us, bug. Sara’s told me you used to do them for her when you get new clothes, let us see ‘em!”

the cadence in which he speaks, though i know it’s not his intention, makes me feel small. like i’m a child and not only one year younger than him. and yet, the idea that he wants to see me model all of my new clothes makes my heart flutter in my chest; nearly pounding against the bars of the cage i keep it in, wanting nothing more than for me to confess my feelings right then and there on the fabric couch of my living room, a rom-com, annoyingly fitting of the moment, paused on the tv, and my best friend sat right beside me.

“she told you that?”

“yeah,” his brows furrow, “she tells me plenty of stories of when you guys were younger. i love that she loves you.”

right. this is about her, not me.

i smile halfheartedly as Sara walks back into the room, taking her place back on the couch and underneath Jack’s arm.

for a moment, i wonder if he would still be so smitten if he knew that she doesn’t look at him the way that i do… the way that he looks at her. if he would still pine after her and bend to her will if he knew that she had been going on dates with one of the boys on the soccer team, and that she looked at him with stars in her eyes, the same way Jack looks at her. if he would still look past me, still think of me as nothing more than Sara’s little sister, if he knew she had no intentions to ever make something more of their friendship.

would he move on from her? look for someone else to give his affection to? and would i be wildly insane to wonder if it would be me?

“i actually think i’ll pass,” i finally speak again, a lovelorn quirk to my lips, “don’t want Sara getting any ideas to steal any of my new clothes.”

my sister laughs, eyes twinkling as she winks at me, “i’ll see them next time i go shopping in your closet, don’t worry.”

a small flash of disappointment shines through in Jack’s beautiful blue eyes before he nods, “alright, maybe next time.”

*** January 8th, 2023 ***

“Jack!” my voice carries over the noise of a crowded shoe store in New York City, pushing my way through the people as i watch Jack’s head whip around in confusion. “Jack!”

his eyes scan the store, only landing upon me once i’ve finally made my way through the gaggle of people, now a mere few feet from him.

a bright grin spreads across his face, eyes twinkling, “bug!”

his laugh permeates my ears as i launch myself at him, arms latching around his shoulders and making him teeter in place before finding his core balance, his arms spindling around my waist.

“what are you doing here?” he questions as we pull away, his hands still resting on my waist.

“in a shoe store, or in New York?”

“New York, obviously.” he chuckles.

“girls trip! we were bored out of our minds and decided to spend a couple weeks here.” i explain, craning my neck to see if i can spot my friends in the hectic store.

“we?” he repeats, “is…”

my smile dims at his forlorn yet hopeful expression, shaking my head, “oh, no. she’s not here.”

“i came with some friends.” i tell him and he nods, letting out a seemingly relieved breath. “i’m sorry again, Jack. i can’t believe she-”

“let’s not.” he interjects, “if that’s okay? i’d rather not talk about it.”

i agree, my sisters final rejection of him being the last thing on the list of topics i’d like to discuss with my unrequited teenage love.

“who’s this?” someone cuts in, a hand slapping down on Jack’s shoulder. the new guest has a heavy accent, a neat scruff adorning his face… he’s cute.

“oh, Neeks, this is bug, or sorry, y/n.” Jack’s hands drop from my waist, a long-familiar shiver running through me at the loss of his touch. turning partly towards his friend, Jack’s face brightens again. “y/n, this is my captain, Nico.”

“y/n,” Nico parrots, “you’re Sara’s sister, right?”

it takes everything in me not to cringe, having worked so hard to make myself into my own person now; no longer used to being known as ‘Sara’s sister’ like i was in school.

“yeah.” i sigh, nodding my head, “that’s me.”

i should’ve known better than to think i could be my own person when it comes to Jack. that i could be someone more than the girl who used to follow he and my sister around everywhere.

even with Jack’s new friends, ones that have no connection to me or Sara, i’m still just the little sister of the girl who broke his heart.

“she’s not just Sara’s sister.” Jack tells his captain. he slings an arm around my shoulder, that once disappeared flutter reappearing in my chest, “this girl is the best friend of Spencer Knight and Cole Caufield. she used to go everywhere with us.”

and just like that, the flutter is gone, died out in a sudden burst of flames.

Jack looks down at me, “have you spoken to them recently?”

“yeah.” i force a smile. “i speak to them almost every day.”

“sorry to cut the reunion short, but Jack, we have to go soon.” Nico speaks, gaining Jack’s attention again, “it was nice to meet you, y/n. hopefully i’ll see you again.”

Jack backs away, looking at me again, “text me! you should come to the lake house this summer!”

*** June 20th, 2024 ***

last summer, i spent two weeks of July at the Hughes lake house; my days filled by boating, tanning, and golfing; my nights consisting of bonfires and bars.

it was nice, being surrounded by people i’ve known since high school. i had even convinced Spencer to join me on the trip, though he ended up staying longer than i did.

i felt like those two weeks really helped me solidify myself as more than just ‘Sara’s sister’ to the guys, which provided me with a sense of closure with Jack.

no longer was my mind plagued of thoughts about him anymore. my nights no longer accompanied by dreams of the sweet, blue-eyed boy that i so desperately loved in high school. i felt free.

for the first time since i met him, i was able to date without holding out an unrealistic hope that he would randomly tell me he loved me back.

not long after returning home from the lake house, i met Ryan; a lawyer who knew nothing about the hockey world, which i felt was exactly what i needed.

he asked me out and for once in my life, i was able to say yes without feeling guilty. without feeling like somehow i was cheating on my unrequited love. i was finally able to move on from high school love, for the most part.

on our first few dates, i opened up to Ryan; i told him all about how inexperienced i really was with the dating scene and exactly why. i told him about my six years of unreturned love for my sisters ex-best friend. i told him that i was still friends with him but that i felt that love was in the past. and he was okay with it, he was understanding and sincere and he wanted to be the one i moved on with.

within a few months, i was moved in with Ryan, and now here we are, only a month short of our one year anniversary.

only an hour ago, i arrived to the lake house for the second summer in a row. this time, for a full month of relaxation and catching up with friends. Ryan would meet me here for the last week of my month, it not being quite as easy for him to get away from work as it is for me, and i can’t wait to introduce him to the friends who made high school so easy for me.

**

“y/n!” my peaceful tanning takes a turn when most of the guys arrive back from the grocery store, Trevor appearing to be the most excited to see me.

my eyelids peel open, hand rising to flick my sunglasses to the top of my head as i look over at the hyper hockey player, “hi, Trev.”

his hands slip into mine, helping me up from the lounge chair in order to sweep me into a tight hug.

“how’s life been?” he grins, pulling back and slinging his arm around my shoulder as he guides us into the house.

i can hear the ruckus of rowdy boys from outside, though that’s not at all shocking, in my experience.

“it’s been great.” my mind flickers to my boyfriend, the one who texted me merely thirty minutes ago to make sure i made it here safe, promising to call me when he gets his lunch break, “really great.”

at my pink cheeks and surely dopey smile, Trevor guffaws, pinching my cheek as we step into the house, “did our little bug get a boyfriend?!”

the house goes silent, Trevor’s voice bouncing off the walls and echoing through the downstairs.

“i’m not little.” i mumble, effectively embarrassed by the overwhelming reaction to the news, “i’m only a year younger than you.”

Cole and Spencer are the only two who already knew of the progression in my dating life, being the two people i talk to the most.

“you have a boyfriend?” a voice chimes from my left, and i look over to find Jack, his face soft and his hands full of grocery bags.

i bite back a smile, suddenly feeling hot under all their gazes. nodding, i speak again, “yeah, his name is Ryan. he’s the plus-one i asked about.”

“he’s here?!” Trevor shouts in exasperation.

i giggle, shaking my head at the way the guys all start looking around, all but Jack, “no! he’s coming in a few weeks! he can’t get off work so easily.”

Trevor drags me to the couch, Jack’s eyes following me as he sets the groceries on the table, slowly dragging his feet behind everyone towards the living room.

“what does he do?” “how old is he?” “is he treating you right?” “is he a hockey fan?” “is he hot?”

my brows furrow at the last question thrown at me, looking at Alex in bewilderment, “what? i feel like it’s a good question.”

a hearty laugh drops from my lips, lowering myself to the couch in preparation to answer their many questions.

“he’s a lawyer, he’s twenty-nine, he treats me amazingly, he’s not a hockey fan, and i think he’s pretty hot.”

a collective gasp is heard around the room, my friends looking at me in utter disbelief, “he’s not a hockey fan?”

Cole shudders, as if the idea is the worst thing possible, “you left that out.”

“i couldn’t have you hating on him!” i shout in defense. my eyes scan the room of guys, finally landing on Jack, who stands in the entrance of the room, his hands in his pockets and his lips downturned.

“is that really what you guys are focusing on?” he scoffs and my eyebrows pinch in confusion at his sour mood, “he’s seven years older than her, and you guys are more worried about the fact that he doesn’t like hockey?”

a small part of me feels like a teenager again, honored that he’s so worried about me, but a much larger part of me is offended for both me and my boyfriend.

“i’m an adult, Jack. i can make my own decisions and i’m very aware of Ryan and i’s age gap, but if i’m not uncomfortable with it then why should you be?”

Jack raises a brow at my spiteful tone, clearly not used to having it used on him, “i’ve known you for nearly seven years, bug. i’m just looking out for you.”

“well don’t,” i sneer, “i didn’t ask for you to look out for me. it’s not your job.”

the other boys squirm amidst the tension between Jack and i, Quinn the first to speak up again.

“so, how serious are you guys?”

Quinn’s question gathers my attention again, butterflies swarming in my stomach as i remember a moment just a couple weeks ago.

“i think he’s gonna propose soon.” i confess, my face burning as Spencer lets out an ‘ooooh!’

“i found a ring in his nightstand drawer a few weeks ago, i think he might do it on our anniversary.”

Cole reacts first, pulling me in for a hug as the others cheer out a premature ‘congratulations’, only one member of the group staying silent. but when i look back at the living room entrance, Jack is gone.

“i think this calls for some boating!” Trevor sings out, already jumping up from his seat to go get changed.

“you just want an excuse to go out on the boat!” Luke yells, Trevor nodding in agreement as he disappears up the stairs.

**

after an entire week of boating, wakesurfing, and golfing, we end our sunday night around a bonfire.

orange flames lick at the air, the added heat making the summer night sweltering. yet, most of us can be found sitting around the fire pit, enjoying each other’s company.

“dude, she wasn’t flirting with you.” Cole yells across the blazing fire to Trevor, who’s still convinced the girl he met this afternoon was hitting on him.

“she so was!” Trevor huffs, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

almost everyone rolls their eyes, the rest of us knowing the girl was incredibly uninterested in the hyperactive twenty-three year old.

“y/n, she was flirting with me, right?!” Trevor turns to me, eyes wide in await of my agreement, but it never comes.

scrunching my nose, my head shakes in denial, making him groan.

“the only other girl has spoken… that was not flirting!” Spencer announces, “better luck next time, Z.”

“i don’t think y/n would know flirting if it hit her in the face. she doesn’t count.” Jack laughs, raising his beer up to his lips as he smirks at my offended expression.

“i have a boyfriend! i know what flirting looks like!”

“a soon to be fiancé.” Alex wiggles his eyebrows, shimmying his shoulders in a teasing manner as he stands up, “i’m heading inside, it’s too hot out here.”

a few others mutter in agreement, rising from their chairs and following him into the house, leaving just me, Spencer, and Jack.

i sit in silence, watching the flames as the two boys converse, not yet ready to head inside. instead, i’m pulled off in my own thoughts, my mind twisting as i think of this past week.

i thought Jack and i were fine. he said last summer that he didn’t hold my sisters rejection against me, but now i’m wondering if he was lying. ever since i’ve arrived, he’s been nothing but cold shouldered and a bit bitter towards me.

but the oddest part is that it hurts me more than i’d like it to. it feels like my teenage years all over again, vying for his attention and affections, desperate for him to love me. i thought i was over this unreciprocated love, but now here i am again, my only comfort being the knowledge that Jack doesn’t love me like that, but i have someone back home who does.

Spencer’s lips press to the crown of my head, pulling my head out of my thoughts.

“i’m heading inside.” he tells me, earning a nod of acknowledgment from me as i tell him i’ll probably be in soon.

and then there were two.

Jack and i sit in silence for a while, neither of us daring to break the peace as we admire the fire. i push up from my seat, stepping a bit closer to the fire pit in order to watch the orange burn of the logs.

“don’t marry him.”

my head snaps over to Jack, his eyes now glued to me as my face contorts in confusion.

“what?” i gawk.

“don’t marry him.” he repeats, finally standing from his chair.

“why?”

“why?” he scoffs, “you know why.”

my mind is racing, my heart beating wildly in my chest as i turn to face him completely.

“no.” i shake my head, realization settling deep within the pits of my stomach, “no.”

“yes.” he steps closer, a mere 5 feet from me now, and i instinctively take a step back.

all week he’s been sour towards me and i’ve wondered what it meant, and now i know. he’s upset.

upset with me for finding someone else.

“no. Jack, you’re being mean.” i frown. old feelings rise inside of me, nausea plaguing me as tears spring to my eyes, and Jack closes up the space between us, his hand grasping my arm lightly, “stop it, stop it!”

“what? how am i being mean?” he mumbles, brows threading together as i shake off his touch.

“i have been second to Sara my whole life. in everything!” i cry lightly, “and i will not be the person you settle for just because you cannot have her.”

i step away, slowly backing up towards the house, still facing the man who held my heart for so long, only now wanting me when i’m finally taken.

“i won’t-” i stutter, gasping for breath, “i won’t do it. i won’t. not when i’ve spent my entire life loving you.”

Jack’s lips part as he stands in place, as if shocked. as though he wasn’t expecting such an easy confession to tumble from my lips.

“you just-” i sigh, tears spilling over my waterline as i freeze, the joints of my thumbs being pressed to my eyes in attempt to stop my crying, “why don’t you want me to be happy, Jack?

“i spent six years pining for you. i would’ve done anything to get you to love me. and all you wanted was her! and i don’t hate you for that, i can’t be mad at you, you can’t help who you love; but now that i’ve tried to move on, you want to tell me that i shouldn’t marry him? you don’t even love me!”

anger bubbles within me at the audacity that he holds, my hand flying between us in emphasis of my emotions.

“yes, i do!” he spits back, stepping towards me, “don’t tell me what i feel! just because i may not have felt it back then doesn’t mean i can’t feel it now!”

“you only want me because you can’t have her!” i argue.

“you keep saying that but that’s not true! and no matter how many times you say it, it’s not just gonna magically become true, y/n!

“maybe you want to be right because it would make this easier on you. but the truth is that spending time with you without Sara around just gave me the opportunity to get to know the real you. and yes, maybe i didn’t love you like this then, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that i love you now.”

his chest heaves as he closes the space between us once more, staring down at me the exact way that i’ve looked at him all these years; like i’m the only person in the world for him. like i hung the stars in the sky to shine just for him. like i hold his heart in my hands, the fate of his existence weighing in my decisions.

“i love the way you smile and the way that you speak so softly.” he whispers breathily, “i love seeing you in your glasses late at night, and the fact that somehow you’re always cold. i love your kind heart and the way that you care about everyone you meet, so easily. i love your smart mind and the fact that even though you know you’re smarter than literally everyone here, you don’t show it off or make us feel dumb. instead, you correct us lightly, even if it’s Trevor being stubborn and insisting he’s right.”

i let out a raspy chuckle at his words, tears still silently falling down my cheeks.

“i love your determination and that when you set your mind to something, you achieve it. i love your good and even what you say are your flaws. i love you, y/n. and i’m sorry that i didn’t see it before. tell me to back off and i will. tell me you choose him and i’ll leave you alone, i won’t push it. but i needed to tell you how i feel before it was too late.”

he finally ends his speech, his eyes flickering between my own and my lips.

my mind feels numb yet entirely too full with this new knowledge, and i can’t process it all with him staring at me expectantly.

“can i think about this? please?” i question, pulling away, “this is a lot for me to process right now and i need some time, Jack.

“i spent so long trying to get over you. i thought you would never like me the way that i like you, and now you’re telling me this and i have to make a decision and i just-”

“of course.” Jack cuts me off, nodding, “take however long you need. i don’t want you to feel rushed; really think about it, bug. i don’t want you to choose me just because you feel like you have to. if you want him, then choose him. but if you want me, i’m here. i’m telling you that i love you and i want you, and i’ll wait however long you need.”

i nod, turning and finally walking into the house, hands swiftly wiping at my cheeks to try and get rid of my tears before i reach the door, but it’s useless. just as fast as i wipe the old tears, new ones follow.

“and i— y/n, you okay?” Luke asks, stopping his story to the guys as i rush through the living room and towards the stairs.

i stop at the first step, sniffling but not turning to face them, “yeah, i’m gonna head to bed. i’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

a chorus of ‘goodnight’s are shouted my way as i ascend the stairs, shutting myself in my bedroom and locking the door.

crumpling to the bed, my tears won’t stop, heavy sobs wracking my chest.

hours pass by slowly until it’s eight in the morning, my body exhausted and aching from tossing and turning all night. i couldn’t shut my mind off, no matter how hard i tried.

i feel so conflicted, my heart being pulled into two directions, but i know that one direction is stronger than the other.

no matter how hard i tried to move on, i should’ve known that there was no ‘moving on’ from Jack. those feelings would always linger, still hidden under the guise of closure and friendship.

Jack is my home. my heart will always lie with him, no matter how long passes or who i meet.

my thumb hovers over Ryan’s contact, shaking but otherwise frozen, my body overwhelmed with anxiety at what might await me at the other end of the phone call.

the dial tone rings out, my cellphone now being pressed to my ear as i await the greeting from the other side.

“hey, babe. i was just about to call you.”

“you were?” my tone is raspy and low, my throat sore from crying.

“yeah, somethings come up. i don’t think i can make it on the trip like we planned.” a sense of relief fills me at his words.

“oh, that’s okay. i actually think i’m gonna come back early.” i tell him, my eyes staring straight ahead of me at my half packed suitcase.

“why’s that?”

“i think we need to talk.” i confess, pressure building back up on my chest as i think about the conversation awaiting me back home.

Ryan sighs gently and i can hear some papers being shuffled around, the creak of a door shutting before he speaks again.

“did you sleep with him?”

“what?” i’m appalled, my lips parted in disbelief.

“Jack. did you sleep with him?” he wonders so easily, like he just assumed it would happen.

“no!” i scoff.

“then it’s okay.” he replies, and though i don’t know how he would know, i can tell; he knows what i have to tell him. “i expected it. i really liked you, and i know you really liked me, but i’ve known from the start that i couldn’t compare to him.

“you may have have liked me, but you love him.” he tells me, “i just hope he doesn’t take you for granted, because you deserve the best. and if he is that for you, then i’m happy for you. but if he treats you like anything less… don’t settle, y/n.”

just when i had thought i had nothing left to give, more tears run down my rose tinted cheeks, “i’m sorry.”

“don’t be.” he’s stern with his words, showing me he means them, “i assume he told you how he feels?”

“yeah.” i sigh, “he loves me.”

“then don’t be sorry. you deserve to love and to be loved.”

“thank you.”

he mutters a goodbye, the call ending, and i feel a sense of determination flood through my veins.

rising off my bed, i fling open my bedroom door, stomping down the steps until i reach the kitchen, where i can hear the boys discussing the plan for the day.

at my whirlwind arrival, the boys silence, watching me with baited breath and curious eyes as i stalk towards Jack, who stands frozen at the counter.

“what’s going o-” Trevor’s words are quieted by the sound of my hand smacking against Jack’s cheek. the boys gasping at my action before Trevor begins to laugh.

“that’s for waiting so long.” i huff and Jack nods robotically.

“so i’m guessing that’s a no?” he wonders, voice solemn, as though accepting defeat.

“shut up.” i whisper.

my hands glide over his shoulders, wrapping around the nape of his neck as i pull him down towards me, crashing my lips upon his in a bruising kiss.

“oh!” “what the fuck!”

our friends reactions are thoroughly ignored, Jack’s hands coming to rest on my waist, his fingers gripping into my hips as he deepens the kiss. his tongue slides past my parted lips, but i pull away before we can get any farther in front of our friends.

“and that’s my decision.” i whisper, a beautiful smile spreading across his lips, “don’t make me regret it.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it, bug.”

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vi.ii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: guess who's not listening in her calculus lecture rn. also, wifi is acting funny rn.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

2020

There have been a lot of new protocols to follow. Social distancing. Wearing face masks. Races being rescheduled. Australia, China, Netherlands, Monaco, Azerbaijan, Canada, and France are canceled. Vietnam is postponed. The first race of the season takes place in the Red Bull Ring in Austria and Max gets a fucking DNF.

After exchanging Instagram accounts in December, Max has spent a normal amount of time stalking your feed. That's what you do when you’re trapped inside your apartment alone because of a global health crisis, you explore the online world.

It seems like you’ve been operating the account since your university days and a lot of your posts show a side of you that’s different from the manager he knows. He learns that you play billiards competitively. You've even reached an Australian tournament. He learns that you watch NASCAR and motocross and drift racing. He learns that you know how to drive a firetruck. He learns that you like partying in LA and you took up volunteer work in the LA fire brigade around your sophomore year. He learns that you’re particularly fond of taking pictures of the skies at different times of the day and the things you’re studying. He notices that you only post group selfies or low angle blurry selfies of you. You don't take pretty pictures of just you.

The oldest post is a photo of you offering a middle finger while smiling and filling up the gas tank of a truck. You're also wearing a red sweatshirt with the letters USC written at the front and skinny ripped jeans. If you swipe right, the next photo shows a picture of you and your group of friends writing on papers on the hood of the truck. Max sees numbers and scratches and crossed out sketches. Max notices a canned beer on your other hand while you press down on your scientific calculator buttons and shakes his head. You do not change.

The latest post is a photo dump of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix in 2019. A picture of the aerial show, grainy zoomed in pictures of the garage, selfies with the mechanics, a bathroom mirror selfie, and a blurry picture of a beer in your hand from the after party. He presses like in every post, latest to the oldest.

you: fucking stalker

max: fuck you

max: *sent a photo*

max: nice teeth by the way

you: i hate you

you: *sent a photo*

you: ya think im the only one who looks ugly with braces?

Since then, Max’s relationship with you has considerably improved. The two of you spend a lot of nights dm-ing each other on Instagram and sending each other reels.

max: SOS

you: ??

max: I THINK THE STOVE IS ON FIRE

you: the stove is supposed to have fire

max: ITS ON FIRE

You and Max sit on the floor, back against the kitchen counter, chest heaving in quick breaths, shoulders bumping against each other. You hold the fire extinguisher close to your chest and your eyes are closed and your lips are parted a little. Max observes your side profile.

You're not a categorically attractive woman. But with the way the sun rays enter Max’s kitchen window and hit your face at all the right angles, you look like someone worth missing a sunset over. Max allows himself to stare and mentally tries to convince himself that this is a very normal amount of staring at one’s manager slash friend.

He’s crossing the line that divides friendship and something unnamed.

“Do you need me to call maintenance so we can get your stove replaced?”

Max nods.

“Yes please.”

You post a new picture on Instagram after a long period of dryness. Max gets a notification. He checks it out.

The caption reads: meet my full time dog and part time boyfriend

The picture is blurry and grainy but Max can make out your face perfectly. There’s a billiard table. Max sees a person in the background. A man. He's wearing a Williams shirt.

Is that a racer? Max immediately thinks of Nicholas Latifi. You and him are around the same age. But the blurry man in the picture doesn't look like Nicholas. The hair color and the build is different. George, maybe? He’s a year younger than Max. Do you prefer your men younger? Scratch that. That’s impossible. Max knows he has a girlfriend named Carmel or Carmen or something.

max: you have a boyfriend

you: youre fast

max: when did this happen?

you: uh

you: earlier?

Max resists the urge to hurl his phone across the room.

max: details [name]

max: i need details

you: nuh uh kid you havent unlocked that level of friendship yet

you: that's friendship level 8 ur still on level 6

max: i will hunt you down and force you to tell me

max: and don't call me kid i'm one year younger than you

you: id like to see you try

max: i think u forgot im the one who gave you the apartment where u live rn

You introduce Leo to Max a month later.

Leo is a British brunette guy with a face that one would consider mid in Europe but a ten in the US. He is one of the Williams mechanics. You mention that he used to do karting as a kid and even went up to F3 but he’s decided to discontinue his racing career because he thinks engineering and the technical aspects of a formula car is far more interesting than racing.

He’s basically the complete opposite of Max.

He’s a good guy, Max can tell. He’s well-mannered, he’s calm, he knows how to treat you right. Above all else, he makes you the happiest. You have the most genuine and beautiful smile on your face when he comes into your view.

He also handles your relationship very maturely. He doesn't demand. He understands that you work for different racing teams with different jobs and that means different priorities.

The weekly IG posts are also too cute. It looks like it came out of a Pinterest board.

Max will never tell you that he spends a good hour every time you post something with Leo in it like an obsessive freak. He tries to make sense of the feeling in his chest. Something green. Something ugly. Something he can't name.

Max should be happy that you found a guy as great as Leo. But he cannot, for the life of him, be fully happy for you. He doesn't know why.

“PR told me that you received a dinner invite from Kelly Piquet,” you state, sitting down on the empty chair across from him and putting your packed lunch on the table. You carefully lay the folded clothes on the other chair. Max deduces they will be the ones he’ll be wearing for the interview scheduled in about two hours. You already sent him the list of questions in his email but he hasn't opened them yet.

“Yeah,” Max says after swallowing. “She’s been sending invites since two months ago.”

“And you left her on seen?”

Max scoffs, “I didn't leave her on seen. I just…well, I saw them late and declined them politely.”

He knows Kelly Piquet. He’s aware of the history she shared with former Red Bull Racing now Toro Rosso driver, Daniil Kvyat. Max also knows she’s the daughter of Nelson Piquet, retired Formula One champion. He thinks it's rude to take the guy’s ex-girlfriend after he’s taken his seat in Red Bull.

“She’s interested in you,” you claim, opening the tupperware and quickly saying grace before digging in.

Max is not good with dealing with women. Twenty-three years old and he’s still girlfriend-less. But he knows how to recognize people who are interested in him. A significant number of women have tried their chances with him since he began racing professionally and he may have used you as some sort of getaway driver to get him out of all the awkward situations where he has to deal with women who are interested in him.

You have a very scary resting bitch face if you try hard enough. Its efficiency in scaring off people is proven to be, well, efficient.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Are you interested in her?” you question.

Max thinks about it. Really thinks about it.

“Do you think it’ll be good if I get a girlfriend?” he throws you a question instead of an answer.

“You're twenty-three, man. It's about time you start doin’ somethin’ about your empty dating history.”

Max nose scrunches but doesn't say anything because it's the truth. His dating history is hilariously empty.

“What’s your opinion of Kelly?”

“Uh, cool pussy, I guess. Don't really care.”

Max rolls his eyes, “You’re so crude.”

You shrug uncaringly.

“But I don't mind who you wanna date, man. I mean, it's your life. Date who you wanna date. Live the life you wanna live. All the jazz and shedazzle.”

Max accepts the dinner invite.

The 2020 season ends with Hamilton standing at the top, officially becoming a seven-time world champion. Bottas is behind him. Verstappen, like 2019, still stands in third place. Max vows 2020 will be the last year Hamilton becomes a world champion. The team doesn't hold a big afterparty like it usually does and Max flies home to Monaco immediately.

It's been months since he's started seeing Kelly and the woman is pleasant company. Her daughter, Penelope, is the most adorable human being that ever stepped on Earth. Max loves the little bean with all his heart and he himself is surprised that he’s capable of loving a little human this much. He’s practically convinced that he’ll be a shitty father one day. He does not have a good model figure to look up to when it comes to fatherhood.

Little P, Max learns, is obsessed with crocheted things. Max sees her little bags and little hats—all crocheted. Kelly says she pays their housekeeper to make things for little Penelope because she likes them so much.

Max decides he wants to learn how to crochet. He buys the material and learns through hundreds of Youtube videos. His first masterpiece is a bag. It's white and light orange. He shows it to his mum, who questions how on Earth did her son take an interest in a hobby other than racing or anything car-related. Despite that, she compliments it and Max feels confident that you’ll like it, too, now that he’s gotten his mother’s approval.

He finishes making it by the eighteenth day of December and he calls you, hoping he has the chance to give it before you fly down to Texas for the off-season. But you already left Monaco, just the day before and are now spending the first few weeks of the break in New Zealand with Leo.

“So it's serious?” Max asks you over the phone. He stares at the dark sky in Belgium. There's no stars tonight. Only the moon and it’s looking down at him like it's mocking him. Max wonders what the sky looks like in New Zealand right now.

“Of course,” you say.

“Well then, enjoy the holidays.”

“You, too, man.”

The call ends.

2021

Max sees you enter the Red Bull hospitality. The first thing he notices is that your shoes are brand new. Same model—the black and gold YSL Opyum heels, yes he knows the name because he searched it on Google—but brand new. Your bag is also brand new and it’s not the old cream-colored tote bag with peach prints. It's a cream-colored tote bag with Van Gogh’s painting—the Starry Night—printed at the front. You show it to Max excitedly and tell him that it's from Leo, the bag and the shoes, and Max fakes a smile the whole time. When he returns to his room in the evening, he throws the crochet bag he made over December in the trash bin. Kelly sees it but she doesn't question it.

“PR suggests that you film a Tiktok.”

Max groans, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

“Tell them no.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” you encourage him, shaking his shoulders. “There's a lot of dance trends right now.”

“I said no, [Name].”

“Max.”

You throw your hands on your waist, looking at him pointedly with your lips pursed. Max returns the stare.

He gives up after five seconds.

“Fine.”

You huff in triumph.

“But you’re doing it with me,” Max bargains.

“Oh come on,” you throw your hands in the air.

“Now you know how it feels. Tell PR that I’m not going to film a Tiktok unless you film it with me,” Max smiles cheekily.

You're not going to film a Tiktok video with him. He knows you hate filming yourself and posting it for the public. There's a reason why you avoided cameras as if it’s the sun and you're a vampire and had all your social media accounts in private.

You pull an unexpected move and you nod your head.

“Fine.”

Max’s smile drops.

You film a Tiktok using Red Bull Racing’s official Tiktok account. A simple dance. Max does not know the title. The steps are simple and it's easy to memorize. He believes he can do this fairly easily. You don't look like you’re having fun while memorizing the dance steps but you're not overly struggling.

You film the video in three takes. When Max sees the final outcome, he cringes. His long limbs look awkward as he performs the steps despite thinking that he’s doing fine while filming it. You, on the other hand, look fine.

You look good while dancing actually. There’s a certain grace that accompanied your movements.

“You dance good,” Max comments.

“It’s the Latina in me,” you claim, raising your chin a little.

Max snorts.

You show the draft video to the PR team. Without hesitation, they scratched it.

“Why?” Max asks, brows furrowing.

“Apparently, they're too tired releasing statements that we’re not dating. They're afraid that the Tiktok video would bring back our dating rumors,” you roll your eyes. “They’ve decided to just make you do a Tiktok filter game.”

Max does the one filter where he has to solve the simple math equations projected on the screen. He has to tilt his head to the side where the right answer is placed and he needs to do it quickly.

Max is not bad at Mathematics. He’s not good at it either. He’ll say that he’s just average at it like every human being on Earth.

You sit beside him, barking him the answers before his brain can even process and perform the required operations.

“60 points. That's not good enough,” he says.

You nod, “Damn right. You're not tilting your head to the right answer fast enough.”

“Maybe you're not giving the answers quick enough.”

The video gets more than ten takes. The two of you don't stop until you get the perfect score.

Monza is a disaster. To summarize: the 53-lap race is won by Daniel Ricciardo, who has now moved to McLaren. He capitalizes on a good front-row start and the crash between Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton to take the race lead. Lando, Daniel’s teammate comes in second with Mercedes' Valtteri Bottas in third. Max and Lewis—DNF.

Max doesn't remember the last time he’s been that angry and the anger doubles when he sees the seven-time world champion celebrate on the tracks. Max then decides that he’s going to be more risky, especially now that he knows how safe the car is. Max is willing to risk his life for number one.

Max lies in the medical bay and he hears voices outside. Too many voices. He’ll appreciate it greatly if the voices disappear. He's too angry right now that the noise of the outside world is too much.

“Max?”

The voices disappear and it's only you he can see, he can hear, he can feel. You're everything.

You said it. His name. It sounds even better than he imagined.

“[Name].”

After making sure he’s okay, you tell Max that you wish to go to Danny and congratulate him for winning. Max grabs your hand, unwilling to let go.

“You're not his manager anymore,” Max reminds you. “You're mine.”

He’s very much aware that he sounds like a child who refuses to let his older brother borrow his favorite toy but he cannot find himself to care. Screw Daniel.

You give him a long look but follows his demands anyway, “We’re gonna congratulate him later whether you like it or not. He’s our friend and he just got P1. We’re gonna be happy for him 'cuz that's what friends do. I’ll drag your ass to his hotel room if I have to.”

Jos Verstappen is not happy. When has he ever been happy with Max anyway? He calls Max after the Monza race and proceeds to yell because that’s all he ever does with Max. He yells. Max is embarrassed that he’s twenty-three and he’s still getting yelled at by his own father.

“Your Dad’s an asshole,” you stated after he ends the call. Max knows you heard his father’s voice even though he has not put the call on loudspeaker.

“Don't talk to my Dad like that,” he reprimands, though not unkindly. “But yeah, he is.”

You snort, “You okay?”

Max lets out a shaky breath, nodding weakly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You would think that after all this time I would get used to it but I don't know. It still makes me feel so uncomfortable and like I'm doing everything wrong even though I've been doing that for such a long time now and I've achieved so many things he asked for."

Your gaze softens and Max mentally begs that you stop looking at him like that. He does not want your pity. Pity is for the weak. Max is not weak.

You open your arms, “Rein it in, big guy.”

“What are you doing?”

“You need a hug.”

Max hesitates but he invites himself to your arms anyway. He allows himself to melt. In your arms, he feels like he's home and that he's good enough.

The breakup happens two race weekends later. Max is not dumb nor is he so emotionally indifferent that he cannot sense if a person is going through a breakup especially if that person is someone so close to him. He already knows there’s something wrong and he knows exactly what’s wrong and yet he still asks, “What's wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you say a little too quickly as if you already know that Max is going to ask the question.

“[Name],” his fingers circle around your wrist. “It's not nothing. Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?”

He wants you to open up. He wants you to say something. He wants you to share the heartache you carry so it won't feel heavy on your shoulders. He wants to be someone who’ll carry your problems with you when the world feels too big and you too small.

You sigh shakily, forcing a polite smile. Your hand comes up to squish Max’s cheek in between your palms and Max’s brows rise slightly at the action. Your hands feel cold and they’re trembling slightly and Max wants to point it out, but he sees how your lips wobble and his mind just blanks, “It's not important. You only have one thing to think about and that is to win. You hear me?”

Max considers marching to the Williams Racing livery and demanding for Leo Stark but he chooses not to. You won't want him to, anyway.

Max never realizes how horrifying blood is until he sees it dripping down the side of your head. He watches as your face changes from shock to realization to absolute anger. It’s like watching you transform from human to a rabid animal who wants to shed blood. At first, he tries to pull you away and calm you down. When he sees the girl’s boyfriend appear, Max joins the fight. No man is allowed to hit you. Not on his watch.

The higher-ups are not the happiest when they learn of what happened. The PR team is having a field day as well. Someone captured the event in video and posted it online. Max has been given a script for the video he’ll have to do to save his image but it’s written differently. Different in a way that the way the words are arranged feels odd to him unlike the way you write your scripts for Max. You write the scripts as if Max is the one who writes them. You write the script in a way Max will write them. Because you know him enough to know what kind of words he wants to use and how he’ll phrase things. You choose words that are easy on his tongue and you structure the sentences so that he can memorize them easily.

Helmut is the one who says, “She should leave the team.”

“If you fire her, I’m leaving,” Max decides.

Christian narrows his eyes at him, “You won't dare.”

“Try me,” he challenges. “I am willing to pay millions to leave if she leaves.”

The other teams want him, Max knows. They know he’s rising to stardom, a racer who can stand equal to Lewis Hamilton in the right time. Red Bull is too afraid of spitting out their star now. Not when Max is already giving Lewis Hamilton a big run for his money this year. Not when Max just showed the world that he’s capable of more than just being third place.

The wretched Hamilton fan decides to sue and Max calls upon his mother’s help to find the best lawyers to fight for you. Sophie willingly helps him.

Max is going to protect you, like you always do to him.

[everythingne]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ➛ everything that can, will. (aa23)

It's your first birthday while dating Alex. You learn a little goes a long way in the world of F1 when half the grid comes to assist a bunch of minor inconveniences that threaten to ruin Alex's perfect day.

requested here!

alex albon x girlfriend!reader

warnings/notes: no warnings? tooth rotting fluff for once in my life, alex trying his DAMN HARDEST ok. IM SORRY IS SO LATE </3

Alex had told you about a thousand times that no matter how many times you said it was fine, that you’d be okay just having pizza and watching a movie on the couch to celebrate your birthday, that he was going to try and make it nice.

And then he gets called in for an emergency meeting at Williams.

To say you’re disheartened is an understatement. Alex had been happily dropping hints here and there about his plans, nothing you could discern any big idea from but mostly just little excited chatter from him. It had been weeks of you begging for any clue, even something vague, and just receiving a simple kiss on the closest part of your body to Alex in return.

Basically, Alex had been unintentionally torturing you by holding this over your head, and now you wouldn’t even get to know.

Considering he only has maybe an hour max to get ready and to get to Williams, he’s very quick to get out the door. You make him a water bottle and pack a quick lunch, and some extra because Logan keeps wanting to eat your cooking and he hasn’t been over in a long while. Hastily, you bid Alex goodbye with a chaste kiss while he hands you your laptop you’ve been looking for since you woke up.

“It was under the sweatshirt you threw on your desk,” he shouts over his shoulder as he kicks a shoe on and nearly falls on his head in the process, and then right before he slams the door he calls your name and when you poke back around to look at the door he says, “Logan’s gonna pick you up at four!”

And Alex is gone before you can think to ask what the hell he means. And when you text Alex a few minutes later once the most of your confusion has subsided, he has no answer. So you text Logan, who also doesn’t answer to your dismay.

It’s Carmen who calls you about an hour later and asks you to let her into the apartment building, and then into your apartment itself. When you do, she happily whisks you off to the bathroom, leaving a mostly confused George behind as she tells you to get dressed for dinner.

“But Alex is busy?”

“And you think he just gave up on this? Like he hasn’t been planning this for almost a month?” Carmen stops to gawk at you with the most annoyed expression, like she can't believe you're thinking logically for once, “Babe. He literally panic texted their group chat and was freaking out about possibly missing today, he's got half of William's working to get him out early too."

“What groupchat?” You ask as Carmen, ever elegant, begins digging through the makeup you keep in your little sink side makeup bag. You're sorting through your closet when something pokes your arm and you look up to see George, who hands you your phone you'd left on the counter downstairs. He then turns and sprawls across your bed to kill the time.

“Alex has a groupchat with, Lando, Oscar, Logan and George, they made it when Alex was—as George says ‘too pussy’ to ask you out when you were a guest of Red Bull at Silverstone.” Carmen calls from the bathroom as you find the outfit you'd planned to wear tonight hung in the front of the closet, and kneel down to find your shoes in one of the various bins on the bottom of the closet.

“That was like… three almost four years ago!” You call back to her, poking your head out of the closet to look at her across the room and she grins as George laughs.

“Yeah, it was just 2019 rookies thing, but when Logan got to Williams I filled him in one night and we made the chat!” He says from where he's starfished on his stomach across your bed, phone in one hand as he idly scrolls through whatever app he's on.

“Christ.” You pinch your nose, and slam the closet door shut so you can get changed in peace. Once you've gotten ready, you open the door and walk to meet Carmen who grins and compliments your outfit and begins running you through makeup ideas.

You both settle on something natural, which is what you expected to do yourself so Carmen is happy to oblige.

“Dinner is in an hour and a half ladies!” You hear George call after a while, and the sound of his car keys jingle as you and Carmen look at him as he gets off the bed, “I have a present to retrieve from Oscar.”

“How did Oscar get involved?” You ask George in the doorway, and he blinks at you in the most George Russell fashion ever as he smiles,

“Oh, honey, the whole grid is involved at this point.” He says, then leaves the room. You gawk at the fact he just called you 'honey' like a drag queen and Carmen can't help the laugh that barks out of her mouth.

"I've taught him too much, oh god," She laughs to you and you can't help the smile that crosses your face before she continues to help you get ready.

By the time Carmen assures you that you look great and ushers you out and into the kitchen, there is a concerning amount of drivers in your apartment. You note the people you expect, Logan is talking with George off to the side, Oscar poking between them to show them something on his phone, turning back from where Lando is actually managing to make a little bouquet of flowers look pretty on the table.

"What the hell is going on?" You can't hold back from asking as Carmen laughs into the back of her hand, and Lily comes over to give you a little side hug and compliment you while Oscar hands Logan his phone and motions to the bouquet in his hand of any and every flower you had ever called pretty spread through the room.

"There's like four more. This man is insane." Lando hums and you can't help the soft laugh as Lily and Carmen both usher the boys to start grabbing their things.

"The rest are coming later," Logan hands Oscar back his phone, and with a quick goodbye pretty much forced by the girls (who give you both tight hugs before leaving) you are left with Logan being the only driver in your kitchen. He's looking at something on his phone and you look around, noting someone had cleaned up the apartment a bit (probably Oscar or George), there were already two vases of flowers, and you could tell they'd restocked groceries. Which was good, you needed more food in this damn apartment but hadn't had time to run out.

Logan finally shoves his phone in his hoodie pocket and grabs his car keys, looking at you with a tiny smile as he walks to the door to grab his shoes. You follow suit, carrying your own to put on at the door.

"Ready to go? Purse, extra shoes, perfume, travel makeup bag..." Logan trails off with a grimace and an annoyed grumble under his breath as he fishes out his phone from his hoodie, "what was the other stuff Alex told me to remind you to grab..? Oh! Keys and wallet, duh."

You just kinda stare at Logan and realize every time before you leave the house, Alex always runs you through a checklist of items you need. It was mostly because Alex himself forgot a multitude of items over the course of your first few months with him, but you both had sharper memories now.

But the fact Alex asked Logan to remind you? You could melt into a puddle on the spot. Between the flowers, or the date, or the fact he'd asked all his friends to come help. You were already melting. Logan takes you to the car, helping you get in and situated before walking around to get in himself, he cracks a joke about how Alex told him to act like a rich limousine driver and you laugh along. It sounds about right.

Halfway through the drive it starts to pour. You knew it was going to be bad weather today, hence why you had suggested the movie night idea to Alex, so you weren't too shocked. The rain slows the drive a bit, after some idiot nearly rear-ends Logan, but you make it in one piece.

Pulling up to the restaurant, you thank your lucky stars it's nowhere fancy. It's one of the many little places you and Alex stopped into quite often, typically for take-out due to busy schedules. Logan tells you to wait while he texts Alex and you happily do, looking around to see if you can spot Alex before Logan can text him.

And then your side door opens and a familiar head pokes in, Lando smiles, "Hello, Ma'am."

"Hello, Norris." You echo, laughing when he offers a hand out to you to get out of the car as he holds an umbrella over you. Turning over your shoulder as you stand, you spot a few more familiar faces--everyone from the apartment plus who you think might be Max and maybe Daniel leaning on the side of Georges car with their hoods up like some sort of spies.

How Alex managed to get almost half the grid involved, you have no idea.

"He's inside," Logan says to Lando who nods happily, gently guiding you over to the restaurant door and opening it for you while Logan leans across the console to close the passengers of his car. Once you're safely inside the little restaurant you peer over to a few of the guys giving eachother fist bumps and realize Alex's car isn't even here.

But you feel an arm snake around your waist as a quick kiss is popped to the side of your head, "Boo."

"Alex," You laugh, melting into his touch and letting him guide you to the side with a soft thanks to the hostess as he brings you to the usual corner booth the two of you always steal, perfectly secluded from the world and a little safe haven amidst the chaos. You can see Logan's car idling in the parking lot, someone leaning in the window talking to him while Oscar holds an umbrella up. But Alex taking your hand brings your attention away. It's way before the dinner rush, so its as quiet as usual as you both settle down to eat.

"Now," You hum, setting your bag besides you as you lean on the table and look at the drinks already waiting--he'd been here for a little while before you, "How in the world did you manage this?"

"I ended up basically begging James." Alex laughs, "I called Logan right after James called me, filled him in, and he was with Oscar. The two of them started asking all sorts of things and with the help of Lando they apparently planned out this whole thing. The only thing I knew was George was going over with Carmen and that Logan was gonna bring you."

"So you didn't know about anyone else being involved?" You ask and Alex cocks his head at you.

"Oh, God. Who did they rope in?" Alex asks and you wav a hand, softly laughing.

"I dont know for sure but I thought I saw Max and Daniel?" And as you say that, Alex scowls in confusion and the expression makes you burst into a tiny fit of giggles as he lets out a soft laugh through a huff.

"Lando probably pulled Daniel in, but I have no idea how Max got roped into this." You say as the waitress comes over, looking a little stressed. You send a glance to Alex, who already looks worried at her slightly nervous fidgeting.

"Unfortunately," the woman starts, "our stoves aren't exactly working..? The gas line is busted from the wind outside or something, so we won't be able to serve you..."

You and Alex kinda blink at each other before he's quick to speak, "Oh! Don't worry, let me pay for the drinks."

"No no!" The waitress exclaims, "you two are here all the time, it's on the house, don't worry!"

After a bit of back and forth of Alex insisting he'll pay and the waitress basically begging otherwise, you manage to convince Alex to let it be on the house with the workaround of leaving the girl a big tip on the non-existent bill instead. He satiates with that and as you both get up, he knocks one of the drinks off the table and shatters the glass. You both just kinda pause before he asks if you're alright, which you are, and the waitress promises to clean it as she helps you both step around it.

Alex slips another bit of cash on the table for her before he's guiding you out along with the few other tables who were waiting. His umbrella flicks out as you leave, moreso covering you in the now drizzle, but the wind causes it to flip and you laugh as he carts you over to Logan's car, and the doors are locked when you get there but luckily Logan's reflexes are still just as sharp as you remember because he's unlocking the door so you and Alex can tumble inside the back seats in fits of laughter.

"Good lord, what happened?" Logan laughs as he hands back some napkins from his glovebox so you can wipe off the rain on your arms that threaten to chill you to the core.

"Gas line is broken." Alex groans as he shoves his wet, broken umbrella onto the floor and shuts the door. He'd gotten arguably more drenched than you, so you hand him some napkins so he can try and dry himself off too. Logan laughs at your misfortune good heartedly and begins to pull out of the parking lot. The ride back to Alex's apartment is quiet, but peaceful, and you both laugh and thank Logan as you run from his car to the lobby of the apartment building. And right as you go to click the button for the elevator, because Alex of course had to live on the ninth floor, the power cut.

"Are you serious?" You hiss, turning to Alex with a frustrated huff. The rain was funny, and the resturant falling through was annoying but something you could laugh off... now you had to climb seven flights of stairs in the pitch dark, and it was your birthday. The world was supposed to be going right for you.

"I'll carry you--"

"Nine flights?"

You both look at eachother and then Alex shrugs with a tiny grin, "We might have to pit stop a few times but yeah?"

"Alex, I love you, so no. You will die." You grin and he smiles as soon as he notices it. All he was trying to do was make you laugh, and he succeeded. You do take the stairs, going slow because the emergency lights keep going in and out, and of course as soon as you get upstairs the power is restored.

But this works for Alex because he drags you into the apartment, yelling about making drinks and popcorn. You go off to get changed while he roots through the cabinets, and when you come back out you swear you hear Logan shouting something before the door slams shut.

"We have pizza!" Alex sing songs as you walk back into the kitchen and you laugh as he sets it down on the coffee table. He waves you over and motions you to plop down on the couch, laying a blanket over you before vanishing for a few moments. He comes back with popcorn and drinks, setting them down before plopping down next to you.

"So, y'know when you mentioned you just wanted to do a pizza movie night?" Alex hums, leaning a bit closer just to peck a kiss on your lips, "I guess the birthday wishes come true."

You can't help but giggle then, letting Alex pull up the next episode of the series you both were watching while you pop open the pizza box, grinning at him when he takes out his phone for a picture.

You couldn't have asked for a better birthday.

[judysxnd]

Proofs that Pedro Pascal & Y/n Y/l/n are dating

I saw those kind of fanfics a few times and I liked it very much, so I was like, I should try too. But idk it doesn’t feel the same, there is something missing, and I don’t really like it 😂 (when am I satisfied of my own writing? Yes. Never.)

————————————————————————————

Pedro and y/n are known to be very close friends since the first movie they did together a few years ago, back in 2019. But, since then there have been numerous rumors about them being in a relationship. This is some moments when the internet nearly exploded when they’ve been seen/spotted together, moments that could confirm their relationship. Of course, they never publicly confirmed or denied anything. It’s like they are playing with it, or they just don’t care.

1) (your birthday) 2022, 11:31pm

Y/n posted a video on Instagram. Someone was inside, in the dark (at first we couldn’t see anything, but we could hear some whispers). We can hear a door opening, and y/n talking to someone before laughing. The door’s closing, when then can hear a male voice (that looked A LOT like Pedro’s voice), then the light was turned on and screams. That’s right, it was a surprise party. And it was indeed Pedro next to y/n.

With the video, there was a picture. A selfie that y/n took, with everyone behind her. But right next to her, there was Pedro.

The caption: “Thank you Pedro for organizing this, I love you so much. I’ve never been more thankful for my friends than today. Thanks for the birthday wishes everyone”

2) Y/n appears a lot in pictures with Pedro when he is out with some friends and vice versa. They seem to be spending a lot of time together. We also noticed that wherever Pedro was, Y/n was in the same city, during the same timeframe. We don’t know who follows who, but where one goes, the other is there too.

3) 18th August 2022, 4:13pm

A friend of Pedro posted a picture of them together. His friend was sitting on a chair, outside, Pedro was standing next to him. They were both only wearing bathing suits. But, we could spot y/n in the reflection of the glass door behind. She was standing there, holding her phone on her right hand, and on the other holding a glass.

4) 7th September 2022, during the afternoon

Y/n was spotted in New-York, walking in the streets, probably doing some errands. She was alone, but it was how she was dressed that raised some suspicion. She was wearing a large pink sweatshirt (the same that Pedro was wearing during the lie-detector interview), with a pair of black jeans.

Later in the afternoon she was also seen getting in a car that looked like Pedro’s. But no one actually saw who was driving.

5) 16th march 2023, around 7pm

One day, after Bella posted a lot of behind the scenes pictures on The Last of us set, Pedro did the same. He posted a few pictures and videos. In one of the picture, it was a group picture, Pedro, Bella, two infected, and.. y/n. What? It seems like they always move together.

6) 2nd April 2023, 2:56pm

Javiera, Pedro’s sister, posted a picture on her Instagram. It was a group photo. There was Pedro’s family, all gathered around the table, having lunch together. His entire family was here, but we could spot y/n next to Pedro. So if it was only family, why was she here?

The caption: “Happy birthday brother. We’re all here for you, just like you are for us. Family’s everything. Love you.”

7) 2nd April 2023, 9:07pm

They were spotted by paparazzis leaving a restaurant. No one seemed to be with them. Pedro’s wearing a very nice suit, and y/n’s wearing a black shiny dress. She’s holding his arm, and they’re both laughing. As they arrived to his car, he opened the door for her before closing it and going to his side. It really seemed like they were on a date. Are they making it official???

[moralesmilesanhourlibrary]

how long

summary: on a particularly hectic day, you find out Miles' secret by chance, years too late. originally posted: Nov. 30, 2019 a/n: I was still getting used to writing conflict here; It's a bit choppy, but I'm actually kinda proud of this one! You go 9th grade me! Note that Miles and the reader insert are adults at this point. Made some slight edits to like three words

Y/N slammed the door behind her and collapsed onto the couch, frustrated and exhausted. She'd probably treated hundreds of patients that day alone-or that's what it felt like. Miles would be back anytime now, judging by the footage on the news. 

Why didn't he tell her?

Y/N's phone buzzed.

'On my way,' the text message read. Y/N swallowed the growing lump in her throat.

She knew it was Miles the moment he spoke.

Some big green thing--folks called him Goblin--was wreaking havoc on the city like no one had ever seen. Spider-Man's silhouette became a blur as he swung from building to building and back, occasionally sprinting through the streets.

Y/N WAS on her lunch break, but not for long. Patients seemed to be streaming in, either from falling debris or various car accidents. Frankly, Y/N didn't feel particularly strongly about Spider-Man--she just wished he'd be a little more fucking careful.

Y/N's chest heaved as she ran back toward the hospital, shoes pounding on the pavement. Unfortunately, Spider-Man was swinging around in that same direction. A dark figure zipped past Y/N's shoulder, nearly knocking her down. 

When she spun around to identify the blur, the masked hero was still chasing after Goblin, yelling, "Sorry, ma'am!" as he left. Sucking in a breath, Y/N continued her trip back to the hospital, but felt like something was amiss. That voice. It was far too familiar.

It came to her after the battle had ended.

The Goblin fellow was webbed up, surrounded by wailing cop cars and news vans. Spider-Man had stopped to take a selfie with a couple of regular folks, then began retreating from the gathering crowd as Y/N looked on. He had a peculiar bounce in his stride that she'd recognize anywhere if she could put a finger on where she'd seen it before.

"We miss you over in Crown Heights, Spider-Man!"

"Miss me? I still live here!"

The epiphany came crashing down like hail. The cadence in his voice was unmistakable. Y/N's heart was in her throat as she started briskly back to her apartment, expecting answers.

Y/N jumped at the knock on the door. The elaborate rhythm of the knocking confirmed that it was Miles. Trying her hardest to maintain her composure, she opened the door.

As Miles stood in front of her, Y/N took a good look at him.

He was wearing the same grey sweatshirt and blue shirt he had on when he saw her off to work, but something was different. Miles had had the audacity to try and hide the suit beneath his clothes. 

Hesitantly, Miles asked, "Something wrong, Y/N? You've been standing there for a minute." In that moment, she couldn't hold it in any longer.

Through clenched teeth so the neighbors wouldn't hear, she said, "Get in here."

Bewildered, Miles sat down on the table, while Y/N returned to her spot on the couch. She didn't look at Miles, frowning at the television screen. Trying to figure out what to say. Miles spoke up.

"What happened-?"

"You would know."

Okay, something was definitely wrong. Miles frantically racked his brain for signs: something he said that morning? Difficult work day? Nothing came up in his mind.

Y/N stalked over to the table where Miles sat. A humorless grin spread across her face, she asked, "What's that under your sweatshirt?" Miles' heartbeat picked up.

"A… shirt?" He prayed to God she hadn't found out.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Morales?"

A pit formed in Miles' Stomach.

Y/N was yelling now. "I can see the suit!"

Miles sighed, cradling his forehead in the palm of his hand. "Well, now you know." Y/N clearly wasn't satisfied.

"I don't know a damn thing, apparently!" Her voice softened to a whimper as tears welled up in her eyes.

"How long have you been wearing that mask, Miles?"

"Everyday-"

"Since when?"

Miles looked away. "8th grade." There was a long pause as his words hung in the air.

"Every day since we were thirteen."

[suppermariobroth]

2019 Mario holiday sweatshirt from Hot Topic.

Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Small Findings | Source

[persephone11110]

rain is a good thing

Jake‘Hangman’Seresin x Reader

Chapter 2: I Can’t Breathe

warnings: exes share the same bed, mentions of scars, past mentions of abusive relationship- reader ex byf, taking care of one another, mentioning of injury—reader cut her hand in chpt1, mentions of past choking, implied child abuse protective jake seresin, reader and jake are angsty assholes towards eachother, the chapter is in 2022

Chapter Summary: Your still trying to wrap your head around the fact that your ex boyfriend was sleeping next to you- that he remember your fear and much less your address.

author note: this took forever to write and but with that heres chapter 2, I wanted to thank everyone who continues to like everything!!, the actual chapters are present day which is set 22’ both chpt 1&2 Jake already been called back. also the reader and Jake started dating in 2015ish and broke up in 2019, I didn’t wanted the chapter to end on a happy note, can we tell I love Etta James first lyric is from A Sunday Kind Of Love

WC: 1.2K

Previous | Next

Series Masterlist

—

Last night had be a fever dream, your head pressed into Jakes chest, how he ran his fingers all throughout your hair. When he rattle through your dressers trying to find you both new clothes he noticed his orange sweatshirt, “I’ve been looking for that all this time and she had it this entire time”. Shaking his head he pulled the sweatshirt over your head, knowing how much his cologne calmed you.

You and Dr. Michaels next session is going to much longer than usual.

Of all the things you expect to see after last night — this wasn’t one of them. Your ex boyfriend standing at your stove flipping pancakes wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist, lip syncing to Etta James.

I want a sunday kind of love.

Your leaning aganist the couch wearing a small smirk, he hasn’t changed a bit just the muscles Jake had from two years ago have gotten bigger. He flips another pancake“Sweetheart staring at my v-neck is going to slow me down”.

Jake turns the stove down- walking towards you with a big grin on his face, “Hungry Y/n?”.

“I am very hungry”. you gently shove past Jake scooping a pancake out of the pan onto your plate.“Aren’t you going to eat too Jake?”, you ask him holding a plate out, Jake scratches the back of his neck, his face reddened—dirty bastard. You decided to act oblivious to Jakes sexual innuendo more interested in the food infront of your face. “You know wherever everything is Jake”.

You stood at the counter scarfing down food versus Jake sitting at the island with a fork in his hand. “Y/n your gonna choke if you keep eating like that”. Jake raised his eyebrows at how animalistic you ate your food,“ Remember the last time I had to the heimlich on our third date because you were swallowing the steak without chewing it first”.

You glared at Jake rolling your eyes at his mother-hen antics to calm his nerves you pull a chair up to the island. Sitting in front of him, he hands you a fork. “Y/n I promise all the food I made and what you put on your plate is all yours”. Jake gives you a reassuring smile before stabbing at his strawberries with his fork.

He remembered, to bad Travis never did he always reminded you to eat as little as possible whether it was breakfast, lunch or dinner. He hated how much you ate on a daily basis, leaving notes on the fridge, on your nightstand in your car— saying eat less.

You couldn’t blame him, you did eat like a pig especially if it was food that your taste buds enjoyed to no end. “Y/n I can’t fucking form a sentence when you all your doing is your rattling fingers in a damn chip bag, he snatched the chip bag from you tossing it across the bedroom.“Next time be fucking considerate”.

“Thanks for last night,and for breakfast …” you fumble to find more words to say but Jake holds his hand up cutting you before you could struggle even longer for the right words.

“Y/n we might be exes but you needed help, its not like you wouldn’t do it for me either, as I remember someone saying something long the lines of I’d run every red light If I had to if meant getting to you”.

You blush at how Jake uses your sentiment words aganist you. You couldn’t help but think to your past relationship why couldn’t Jake do this when you two were together. What changed Jake?, did he find a girl that he changed for, was she worth his time?

You must’ve spent sometime in your head with your spiraling thoughts because Jake says your name with concern attached to it. “Y/n something bothering you?”.

“When did you realize you didn’t love me anymore?”

Thinking back to two years ago when you declared to Jake that you couldn’t take being on the bottom of his priority list. You never asked when and why he lost his love for you, what made him stop caring about your feelings.

Jake swears he heard you wrong,“Darlin theres no reason to end the peace we have going on right now”. He attempts to sway your thinking, turning the conversation onto something else,“Why don’t I make something else to go on your plate?”.

“I mean it Jake was something I did?,— did I gain to much weight, did I have to much emotional baggage for you to handle?”. You get up from the table, walking to the couch.

“Darlin n-no It wasn’t you I—”. Jake gets up to walking towards you, “I couldn’t balance my work life and love life at once alright Y/n it was never you”. Jake eyebrows furrow when he realizes your injured hand. He wants to reach and grab your hand and it inspect it more, but Jake knows how much you hate being touch during a moment like this.

You almost want to let the scoff sitting on your tongue escape. He’s acting like you don’t work hours as a trauma nurse, as if you didn’t see people die almost everyday of your life. As if you didn’t play god with their lives.

“Bullshit”. your voice in more harsher tone than before,“You decided that you didn’t love me anymore because you didn’t feel the urge anymore”. You backed away from him,“Do you know how many nights I spent in our relationship even after we broke up trying to piece together why I was so worthless of your basic love and affection or your fucking attention”. A watery chuckle escapes your mouth betraying the pure anger and confidence in your voice.

“As if you can fucking talk darlin your hours as a nurse aren’t so different from the hours I worked”. Jake standing over you now, his jaw vibrating with anger.“How dare you Y/n”.

“Yeah I worked but I made sure I set aside time for you—for us”. your lips pressed together in frustration, why can’t he just stand there and listen.

Jake crosses his arm with a angered expression and you swear you saw Travis’s face.“Are you listening to me?”. Your walking towards your apartment door—ready to run away from Travis knowing what about happen. “I tried Y/n you just make me hit you”.

“Y/n can you just stand still please I actually want to talk this out”. His accent thick with irritation,Jake grabbed you by the wrist a little to tight.

“Just lay there Y/n”you can hear Travis’s vicious voice in the back of your head. At first you feel paralyzed with paronia unable to movie afraid for your life.

You snatched your wrist from Jakes hand,“Get the fuck out” you angrily point to the door.

He scoffs,“I can’t believe I thought you matured enough to have a conversation without your feelings getting hurt, I should’ve stayed home when I heard your desperate voicemail cry for help Y/n”. He snatched his wallet and keys from the table.

“To answer your fucking question I realized the morning you left me with a little goodbye note”. Jake slams the door behind him leaving you standing with a heavy feeling in your gut.

Tears shook through your body.

I hate you, I love you.

Taglist: @chocolatefartstrawberry,@buckysteveloki-me, @dontletthemtakeyoualive, @kellyls04, @els-marvelvsp, @classyunknownlover, @i-am-mrsreckless,

[ilikethisacompletelynormalamount]

Since Andrew is taking some well deserved time away from the public at the moment, let's revisit (or visit for the first time, if you're new here) this stunning photoshoot from Mr. Porter, October 2019, when he was doing press for Modern Love and his Ripley casting had just been announced (yes, it's taken that long for it to come out).

Mr Andrew Scott’s big brown eyes are open wide in amused disbelief. “That was not an Irish accent,” he says in his musical Irish brogue. “That was a West Country accent.” How embarrassing for an interviewer who thought to connect with her subject by lightly mocking Mr Ed Sheeran’s ­– again – not-Irish accent in his cameo in Mr Scott’s episode of Amazon’s upcoming anthology series, Modern Love. Panic sets in. “It’s all right,” he says, soothingly. “It’s all right. Accents are such funny things.”

You know what else is a funny thing? Sitting with Fleabag’s “hot priest” – 2019’s most unexpected sex symbol – in a wine bar in Bermondsey, southeast London, talking about vulnerability, romcoms and love stories. Or, to take another angle: sitting across the table from the deranged Jim Moriarty and letting him pick out a rosé. That tickles, too. Having Hamlet express the need for a mini-break in, he doesn’t know, Copenhagen? Amsterdam, maybe? Surreal.

But actually, Mr Scott, who is wearing what can only be described as a modified sweatsuit (shorts and a zip-up sweatshirt, no shirt beneath) after our photoshoot isn’t funny funny. No, Mr Scott is serious: reserved and contemplative, but with the energy of a theatre nerd who, every once in a while, rests his head in his hands, cupping his fingers around his eyes to form blinkers while he thinks about a question you’ve just asked. In this quiet wine bar. He’s not an evil murderer, an agent of a shadowy organisation, or an overly excited (wink) cleric. He’s just a nice guy who sympathises about the difficulty of parsing the subtleties of the many accents in the British Commonwealth (and beyond).

Mr Scott is still hot off his run in Fleabag, even though the show ran from March to April of this year. A few weeks ago, he received a GQ Men of the Year Award, and just a few weeks after that, was in Los Angeles at the Emmy Awards where Fleabag cleaned up, winning three awards.

Of course, this is not Mr Scott’s big break. He’s been in the business since moving from Dublin to London 20 years ago to pursue acting. His dad worked in employment, helping young people find the right careers and his mother was an art teacher. “They were definitely into following your passion and doing that for the rest of your life,” he says. “Rather than, ‘You should be a lawyer,’ or whatever the fuck.”

And this has been a year for Mr Scott’s passions. Aside from Fleabag, and an episode of Black Mirror that landed on Netflix this June, he’s making a poignant appearance in the aforementioned _Modern Love,_­ which will drop all at once on 18 October. A series of discreet episodes, each one features its own starry cast (Mr Dev Patel, Mr John Slattery, Ms Tina Fey, Ms Anne Hathaway and, of course, Mr Ed Sheeran, among others), based on the much-loved New York Times column from which it takes its name. Mr Scott’s episode, which co-stars Ms Olivia Cooke and Mr Brandon Kyle Goodman, is loosely based on an early column written by the sex-and-relationships writer Mr Dan Savage about the unusual experience he and his partner had with adoption. “It’s just a really sweet little story. It’s not about a romantic relationship,” he says, (many Modern Love entries are not). “It’s simply about the relationships between people.”

He’s also currently filming in Cardiff for the BBC TV series of His Dark Materials. And maybe there’s a Marvel movie in his future? “Oh, fuck. Completely false,” he says. “Someone said, ‘Are you going to be in a thing?’ I said, ‘No,’ and I said, ‘There have been discussions.’ And it’s like ‘Andrew Scott has been in discussions.’”

That’s what happens when suddenly everyone wants you – to use Twitter parlance – to run them over with your car. The Priest, unlike his other characters, was a sex symbol, one that wears the hell (forgive me, Father) out of a cassock. But who could be surprised that Mr Scott turned a priest into the “Hot Priest” simply by saying “kneel”? (If you don’t know what that means, stop reading now, watch the show, come back.) In fact, he has been making words positively drip with meaning for nearly a decade.

Consider Moriarty, the insane criminal puppet master Mr Scott played for six years across four seasons of the BBC’s Sherlock, opposite Mr Benedict Cumberbatch in the titular role. This particular Moriarty – Holmes’ famous nemesis, who has also been played by Messrs Orson Welles, John Huston and Sir Laurence Olivier – is indelible and utterly idiosyncratic. “If you’re going to do it, I don’t see there’s any point in doing it without putting your own stamp on it. I never look at any previous incarnations,” says Mr Scott. The result of this thinking – in Sherlock, at least – was a Moriarty who is all sing-song eeriness, molten physicality, and questionable cutaway collars. “He was quite theatrical; he was grotesque, sort of the archetypal villain,” he says. Archetypal, indeed: the role propelled him into the world of maniacal superfandom. He might not have received a dedicated stan nomenclature like his co-star (ahem, “Cumberbitches”), but the role made Mr Scott a household name.

Of course, establishing yourself as adept at playing evil incarnate probably leads to people wanting to cast you in more Moriarty-like roles. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yep, yeah,” he says, six times. “Yeah, exactly right,” (one more). “I turned down a lot. The shadow of that character took over for a little while.”  The craze got to be so tiresome that he asked the interviewer for a recent profile in The Guardian not to ask him about Moriarty at all (two years after he last appeared in the series). But now he sees a bigger picture, understands how being the object of abject obsession can be a good thing. “I think to answer your questions,” he says, tapping his fingers on the table, “it’s been really good fun.”

Mr Scott demurs when asked what it’s like to be the quencher of many thirsts on the internet. “People don’t say that to me. People don’t say, ‘Oh my God...” He shakes his head and trails off, perhaps in horror of what fans could be saying to him. It’s a little hard to believe that he wouldn’t be mobbed as he walks down the street. After all, one major British publication declared that Fleabag and the Priest were the only couple worth talking or tweeting about this year. (We guess Meghan and Harry, and Kim and Kanye can relax.)

“If I’m honest, it’s only really just starting to dawn on me, the global effect the show has had. People like a bit of transgression, they just do.” Any follower of his career, though, understands that it’s more than just good writing that makes him so very watchable (though good writing, is, politely, what he puts it down to). His chemistry is electric with Ms Phoebe Waller-Bridge, as it was electric with Mr Cumberbatch, and palpable even if you weren’t lucky enough to catch his rendition of Hamlet and – like this interviewer – had to watch a clip on YouTube.

Mr Scott’s character, Tobin, in Modern Love is the most subdued we might ever see him. There’s very little shouting, and none of the wide-eyed glaring that has defined his roles to date. Instead, he plays sweetly, quietly off a tiny baby, and tells goodnight stories to an adorable little girl. Perhaps this is a harbinger of softer roles to come. “I’d love to be in a romcom,” he says. “I love watching people fall in love, and how mad it is.” And yet: it was just announced that he will be playing Tom Ripley in a new adaptation of The Talented Mr Ripley. So much for avoiding the nutters.

“What always amazes me is how innocent we are as human beings,” he says, sidestepping yet another probing question about being so irresistible right now. “We are very easily manipulated by stories. If someone puts scary music behind someone and they’re told this person’s eyes are absolutely terrifying, you go: ‘Oh my God, that person is scary, and his eyes totally freak me out.’”

“But then,” he continues, “[you’re told] ‘the priest is hot, wait till you see him’. And then you look at his eyes in a very different way and it’s the manipulation of the storytelling. It literally changes your character.” Hmmm.

“The success is the writing,” he tries, again, to argue. But it’s hard to be convinced that an actor who’s hopped from one iconic character to another is simply lucky with writing. He sees he’s not getting anywhere and changes tack. “Acting is just a way of experimenting with different parts of myself. Vulnerability is something I’m really, really interested in. I think vulnerability is at the centre of every character I’ve ever played even if they don’t appear or present as vulnerable.”

Throughout this conversation, his eyes have flicked around the bar, and he pauses from time to time to comment on the other patrons. At one point, a woman is coughing so vehemently, he stops mid-sentence to remark, humorously, on whether she might be dying. Now, he spots something on the bar. “Oh my God, she’s reading Brené Brown.” We both turn to stare at the book.

“She writes a lot about vulnerability,” he explains, excited. “[Being vulnerable] is how you get ahead. I really, really strongly believe that. [Vulnerability is] strong, it’s really strong.”

Perhaps this is the secret we’ve been trying to distil about his appeal: Mr Scott uses vulnerability to bring us all into a space of fear or sadness or lust or anger with him so that every character he plays – whether it’s the hottest priest in London, a gay man in Brooklyn trying to become a father, or a murderous villain – thrums with the heartbreak that comes with being human.

“The more I work,” he continues, “the more I just think every story is in some way concerned with love – or the lack of it.” He smiles an earnest little smile and we both know this is the place to stop. “That’s the way life is,” he says. “It’s so fast and furious.”

https://www.mrporter.com/en-hk/journal/fashion/the-softer-side-of-mr-andrew-scott-1052122

[ik1llmygods]

JPEGMAFIA & earl sweatshirt photographed together (september 2019)