Burning Hatred Masterlist (CA)

"He ran his hands over her pale skin"

"She blushed turning bright red"

Me who is no where near pale:

Please tell me you know what x reader is?

Never Pay A Penny - LN

Summary: Lando would never dare let his girlfriend pay for a thing even when she's fighting him on it.

Inspired by the new Landoscar video bc I thought Lando's reaction was hilarious. It's also just a little one.

No part 2 requests please

It's actually became a game of trying to figure out ways the she can get around Lando paying before she gets the chance. But admittedly sometimes she's going to lengths that when verbalised seem ridiculous just over who pays for the date.

"Why are you moving like that?" Lando questions in amusement as he notices y/n shifting in her seat.

"I'm not moving like anything." Y/n states while Lando smirks leaning back in his seat a little.

"Y/n, baby, you read like a book. Go to the toilet. You're not paying this bill." Lando sighs shaking his head at her while she huffs. "If I promise not to pay while you're in the bathroom, will you please go?"

"You've promised that before."

"That time they showed up the moment you left, I didn't want to be rude. But I promise you, if they show up then I'll turn them away and tell them I'm not ready to pay." Lando smiles not even sure how he's having to negotiate his girlfriend going to the bathroom just so she'll pee because she wants to have a shot to pay again. Even if she's there, she won't be paying and he will make sure of it.

Y/n hesitates before she finally gets up rushing off making him laugh and shake his head lightly as he watches her disappear.

She's gone for a couple minutes before she he watches her reappear but rather than heading towards the table, she's heading towards the bar.

"Ah, fuck." Lando curses stumble up and rushing to beat her there.

"I'd like to-" Y/n starts only for Lando's hand to press over her mouth, stopping her from the request for the bill.

"Hi, could I have our bill?" Lando smiles as y/n fights his hand muting her but he has ditched the gentlemanly persona he always has on for the date, especially in such an expensive restaurant, it's not exactly standard behaviour. Sadly on this occasion, Lando has overpowered y/n and almost got her in a headlock like hold.

"Of course." The waiter nods from behind the bar.

"You really thought that was going to work?" Lando whispers still not having released her from his hold but only enough to lean in and steal a kiss from her before as he taps his card to pay. "Better luck next time. You were close though. Almost."

"Thanks." Y/n grumbles making him smile brightly at her before he leans over and kisses her again but it's not quite so appreciated.

-

A new plan was in place for Lando when it came to approaching their current date which is actually a brunch date ahead of having arrived in Hungary.

He'd pre-paid for the whole date and told them any unspent excess can be a tip to the staff.

"How is it? Good?" Lando asks making her smile and nod as she eats a ham, cheese and spinach pastry.

"Yeah, better than I thought it would be to be honest." Y/n nods with a small hum offering him a bite which he takes with a grin. "You know, I have been thinking about this mission that I've been on."

"You're giving up?" Lando questions in amusement.

"Just for today....so for now." Y/n smiles making her smile at him lightly.

"That's good." Lando states leaning back.

"Why?"

"Because I had already sent the payment ahead of us even getting here." Lando smirks watching her jaw drop a little.

"It's really getting to that point?" Y/n laughs making him grin and nod since he's really not sorry. In fact he's already plotting other instances that he can start doing this.

"You're terrible."

"Am I?" Lando laughs earning a hum as she manages to reach over and steal a strawberry from his bowl.

"Yeah, I want to pay for some stuff too." Y/n pouts making Lando shrug unapologetically.

"I want to pay for everything consider it my way of taking care of you as much as possible." Lando smiles while she sighs a little.

"Go ahead and make it hard for me to hold it against you." Y/n jokes earning a grin.

-

Lando's plan to start adding to the list of things he wants to beat y/n to for paying is actually growing and spanning into other things.

"Lando Norris!" Y/n exclaims making him grin ready to reap the rewards of her brother

"Yes, my love?" Lando grins as y/n appears with a bouquet and a look of question seemingly wanting an explanation. "Those are some nice flowers. Lilies for this week?"

Y/n has got into the habit of buying flowers for the apartment in an attempt to not make the decor so...helmet heavy since there is a lot of his helmets that fill the apartment. Knowing that she goes to the same flower shop every week and so he's made a payment plan to pay every week and made sure the shopkeeper knows to never allow y/n to pay for anything.

Lando's bad identification of peonies actually successfully distracts her from why she came marching in here.

"There aren't lilies, they're peonies." Y/n frowns making Lando refrain from laughing at how easily he managed to get her mind away from the fact he paid for them.

"Oh, well they're very nice."

"Yeah-and you paid for them. How do you even think of paying for them?"

"I should really buy you flowers anyway, but you always beat me to getting them for you so I might as well at least cover the cost." Lando smiles watching her melt over his words since he definitely knows how to be a sweetheart when he wands to be.

"Ok. This is a sweet gesture...but I'm going to have to get you back and start paying for something like this." Y/n hums then sighing as she looks at the flowers with a soft smile before she finds them taken from her arms and placed down as Lando moves to hug her tightly.

"You know I love seeing you smile like that." Lando comments before managing to silence her with a kiss before she can reply. "I love you."

"I love you too." Y/n smiles lightly then leaning over and kissing him softly. "I love you a lot actually."

"Good, that's what I like to hear." Lando grins then sighing. "Ok, go set up your flowers. I can feel you itching to make them look all pretty and improve the apartment."

Y/n flashes a grin at him before bouncing and shifting away from him.

"Oh, and since we're talking about stuff I've paid for without you knowing. I got you that skin, make up box thing subscription for every month too."

"I'm actually not going to be mad about that. Because I love subscription boxes." Y/n states which does honestly make Lando feel like he's maybe onto something with this new piece of information.

My Only Wish This Year

(gif credit to the creator)

Part One

Master List

Pairing: Jensen x Reader Word Count: 2,249 Warnings: angsty teens, mentions of death, mentions of a dead parent, mentions of a dead spouse A/N: I’M BACK BITCHES!!!! I haven’t posted writing on this blog in exactly two years and seven months. I’m happy to be back and to be back writing Jensen. Writing Jensen (and Dean) always seems to come easiest to me so it makes sense that this was the way to go. If you’d like to be tagged let me know, in an ask (it’s the best way for me to keep track)! Hope you guys like it! Anyway, feedback for this is crucial seeing as I’m just stepping back in! :)

Keep reading

Limp dick unicorn

Max verstappen x driver!fem!reader

Summary: Someone pisses Max‘s Girlfriend off and she gives them a piece of her own mad max version

warnings: cursing, mention of violence???

A/n inspired by that one Melissa McCarthy scene 😵‍💫

-

You were a polite person. Never overstepping, keeping calm and not letting anyone get you out of that. Well almost.

Max had gotten P2 behind you, bringing you the most wins of the season. Not many have beaten Max, and you were proud to be one of these few people.

You jumped off your car and turned to max. Your face slightly fell, reading his like a book. He was disappointed. Again. He knew what dawned him, and so did you.

The first time Jos acted out was in your 5th race you’ve ever driven for Red Bull in F1. You were walking into Max driver room, not expecting to see max trying to make himself as little as possible while his father was red like a tomato from all the yelling. Jos didn’t care a bit that you were watching.

It had happened a few other times after that.

You stepped closer to Max and hugged him “He’s gonna be so mad” Max whispered.Your arms tightened around him “Then I’ll give him a piece of my mind. We both know he won’t be as bad when I’m with you” You smiled at him and held his face in your hands.

You were wrong. So fucking wrong.

Jo had absolutely lost it. Because in his eyes, P2 was bad, but it was even worse that he lost against a woman. An untalented scum who didn’t belong, how he phrased it.

You hadn’t heard it, still celebrating with charles, who also got on the podium. You saw Lando coming towards you and pulling you aside “He’s crazy”

You raise an eyebrow “Charles?”Lando shakes his head “Max’s father. He’s screaming at him like there’s no tomorrow” Your face fell. You had been so occupied with Charles, that you hadn’t noticed that Max was gone.

You pushed your throphy into Landos arms and sprinted towards the red bull garage. A few metres away and you could clearly make out Jo’s voice.

“She’s a woman. A woman, Max! She can’t be better than you! Unsless you did it on purpose. She’s fucking you, isn’t she? Such a fucking whore. Untalented and just a good fuck, huh?” You’ve heard enough.

Before Max could say anything, you shoved his father a good meter backwards. Max eyes wandered to you in surprise “Wanna say that again?” Your voice was scaringly calm, making max know what’s bound to happen.

His dad got into your face “The only reason you beat my son, is because you fuck him. You’re no use in this sport. It’s for men,honey. Woman belong into the kitchen” You chuckled and rolled your eyes at his words. Not caring what he was saying about you.

“But maybe it his fault” His eyes flicker to max and back to you “He’s always been useless” Wrong thing to say with you in his face…”He’s never winning”

“Do it better” You say, crossing your arms “Go jump in a car and win the championship. Go on.”

His head was getting red “I won’t let a woman talk down on me. Let alone the whore of my son. Who even are you?”

You’ve heard enough “I’m the person that’s gonna cut your dick off and glue it to your forehead, so you look like a limp dick unicorn. Thats who the fuck I am.Now disrespectfully , shut the fuck up and get out of my and my fiancé’s face”

You had been aware of the camera a few meters away, watching him look at it and then storming off. You turned around to max “How the hell did you survive him?”

Max shrugged and pulled you in for a kiss. Max smiled into kiss.

He had found his home.

-

Wrote this in an hour so..Not edited or proofread 🐝

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“so you are saying that there are 7 bilion people and i fell in love with someone who doesn’t exist? hell yeah i did”

[3.5k] married life has perks that you hadn't ever imagined. and it came with duties you never considered to exist in a totally fake, accidental marriage with a three time world champion who was not what he seemed.

series masterlist

.

As stupid as it sounded considering he had messaged his confirmation, you hadn’t actually expected Max to show up. At most, you expected the question for your address was just going to be him sending the McDonald’s to you with a note saying ‘just this once’.

So when someone knocked on the door a little past ten o’clock, you really weren’t expecting to find Max standing on the other side with a bright smile on his face and two bags full of groceries in his hands. 

You stood there, dumbfounded and blinking at the world champion in front of you. “You were serious.” 

His brows furrowed together slightly like you were the one being out of character. “Yeah, I was,” he said, waiting a few moments before he continued. “So, are you going to let me in or—”

“Oh, yeah!” You flashed him a shy smile as you stepped to the side, pulling the door open a little wider as he stepped into your apartment. You made a brief, noncommittal noise and muttered something about a kitchen in the direction you waved your hand, but Max walked in the right direction almost like he owned the place. 

Like he knew his way around your apartment with ease. 

The thought shouldn’t have pleased you as much as it did.

You glanced down at your attire with a frown, your cheeks burning at your chosen outfit but, in your defence, you really hadn’t expected Max—or anyone—to come over tonight. The shirt was an old one of your father’s you had stolen from his closet many years ago, the pyjama bottoms were from a Christmas set your family had got a couple of years ago and your hair was pushed back from your face in some messy hair-do that probably wasn’t the most flattering.

And definitely not the outfit you would have chosen if you knew Max was coming over. 

But you pushed down the urge to grab a hoodie or a blanket or anything else to cover yourself up, and instead made your way towards the kitchen. 

There was something oddly domestic about the sight: Max standing by the counters, emptying the contents of the bags as he murmured away to himself like he was accounting for what he actually bought. He was dressed in just a pair of grey sweatpants and a hoodie (a Red Bull one, unsurprisingly). His hair was messy, dishevelled even, like he hadn’t bothered to put any product in it today. 

You decided you preferred it much better like that.

“Are you okay with quesadillas?” 

You blinked, looking at Max with raised brows. “You can make quesadillas?” 

Max glanced at you over his shoulder, something quite like amusement shining in his eyes. “You say that like it’s a hard dish to make.” 

“I still burn toast,” you admitted with a shrug. “So anything that isn’t charred is impressive to me.”

Max snorted, almost like he thought you were joking. It was embarrassing that you weren’t, and almost impressive itself that you had managed to stay alive this long by yourself after you moved out of your mother’s house.

“Yes, I can make quesadillas,”  he said, finally answering your question as he began to move through the kitchen like he belonged. “It won’t take long, maybe thirty minutes at most.” 

“I may starve to death by then,” you whined, a playful tint to your words as you pulled yourself to sit up on the empty counter space on the opposite side of the kitchen from him. “McDonald’s would have been faster. And I would have eaten by now.”

Max turned to glare at you, his eyes narrowed. “You hadn’t eaten all day. I wasn’t going to let your first proper meal be McDonald’s.”

“And you said you wanted to be husband of the year,” you murmured, returning the glare and you could see his lips twitching upwards. “Plus, I was too busy to even attempt to cook for myself!” 

“Too busy to eat?” He questioned, not quite convinced. 

“I got wrapped up in my work,” you admitted, feeling your face burn as he watched you closely. You waited for him to get the same look on his face—the one your brothers’ or your mother always gave you—that screamed ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’. But it never came. 

Much to your surprise—something Max had been doing consistently over the last few weeks—he looked intrigued, interested, fascinated. 

“What work was it?”

You told yourself it was a throwaway comment. That he was just being polite. 

“Are you trying to stall the fact you don’t actually know how to make quesadillas?” You teased, head tilted slightly to the side as Max smirked in response. 

“I can multitask,” he assured you. “I can listen and cook.”

“Max Verstappen? Being the listener instead of having people listen to him?” You let out an exaggerated gasp, placing a hand on your chest. “Now, that is just unheard of.”

Max rolled his eyes, though you didn’t see the fond action. 

“Maybe everyone else just isn’t interesting enough to listen to,” he stated simply as he began to work, collecting the vegetables he had chosen and taking them to sink to wash. 

You watched him closely. “And I am?”

“Always,” he said, flashing you a smile over his shoulder before his focus returned to the food.

Despite his offer, you changed the conversation to something that was…well, more of a two way conversation rather than you talking about yourself and your work uninterrupted. Though, you pushed down that kernel of something warm and fuzzy and kept it hidden safe, even if his words were just a polite offer covered in sweet words. 

Around forty minutes later, you sat beside the boy on the counter as you both happily ate your quesadillas, a bright smile on your face as he began to retell some old story about him and Charles back in the karting days. Once you had both finished, you took his empty plate and waved away his offer to wash the dishes as you assured him you had a dishwasher that did the job just fine. 

Your back was turned to him as you loaded all the dishes into the dishwasher, not seeing the way his eyes drifted to some papers hidden under a pile of magazines. 

“Did you do this?”

“Do what?”

“These drawings.” 

You froze for a moment before you turned around, finding Max spreading a few sheets across the counter. Your body burned in realisation when you noted they were some of your more recent designs, the ones that didn’t fit the pretty box your professors and teachers wanted, the ones that you liked to just draw for yourself in between projects.

“Those are nothing,” you waved him off, resisting the urge to rush over and snatch them from his hands like a mad woman. “Just silly, little—”

“They are amazing,” Max interrupted, the sincerity in his voice knocking the rest of the words from your throat. “Like, insanely good.” 

You put your focus back on cleaning up, trying to ignore the way your stomach twisted—almost pleasantly—at his words. You felt like you were moving in a trance as you cleaned down the counters and turned the dishwasher on before you made your way towards Max. 

His focus was still on the sketches, his eyes scanning every little detail like it was important for him to memorise it all. You don’t think anyone outside of your teachers had ever looked at your work with such…focus.

“They really are nothing,” you said to Max as you stood beside him, fingers tracing over the drawings like they were gentle strokes of a pencil. “Just some fun on the side.” 

“Charles mentioned you went to school for this. Fashion, no?” Max questioned, his brows furrowed together like he tried to remember the sliver of information he learnt about you years ago.

“Fashion designing and business management,” you said, letting out a sigh. “I love it, I do. It’s just…” 

His attention focused fully on you. “Just what?” 

“Constricting, I guess,” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders. You turned to look at him, expecting judgement but there was nothing but understanding in his eyes. “I know in the long run these classes will help be but sometimes I just…”

“Want to do what you want?” Max finished, a small smile gracing his lips and it looked so pretty with his flushed cheeks. “I get the feeling.” 

“One too many team orders ignored?” You questioned, your voice light and teasing and you were glad when he laughed in response. 

“Something like that.” 

A few moments passed with neither one of you saying anything. It wasn’t silent, it never was in Monaco. There was still plenty of noise outside: cars revving, people laughing and cheering, the distant sound of music playing from some party who knows how many streets away. It was never quiet in Monaco, but there was something comforting about the blanket of outside noise when you were in your apartment with Max. 

“Come with me.” 

He had blurted the words out so suddenly that it took you a few seconds to realise what he said, what he was asking. You blinked once, then twice and still your brain was confused. 

“Come with you where?” 

He paused before his cheeks burned a light pink colour, like he realised he hadn’t given much explanation or context before he blurted the words out. He cleared his throat, his shoulders looking a little tense as he tried again.

“Come with me to the FIA ceremony,” he said and, if you didn’t know better, you would have sworn he was nervous. Max Verstappen—three time world champion—looked nervous. “I mean, you’re my wife and…stuff.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “And I want you there.”

Your lips parted in surprise, taking a few moments before the shock washed away and the questions started. “I—don’t you already have someone as your plus one?”

He looked a little embarrassed when he shook his head. “I honestly planned to go alone.” 

Your heart lurched a little at the idea. “Don’t you have to tell them in advance?” 

“I’d say a few days is enough,” he replied, a small smirk on his lips once again as realisation dawned on you.

“Oh my god.”

Max frowned a little. “What—”

“I only have a few days to find something to wear!” You hissed, your eyes widening as Max let out a loud, boisterous laugh. You slapped his arm, a wave of panic washing over you. “Max, this is serious! I have nothing!”

Max tried to fight his laughter. “It’s not that big of a deal, you don’t have to wear—”

“Yes, it is a big deal! It’s the official ceremony! I am the world champion’s date!” You said, looking at him like he had grown another head. “Oh my god, I am going to have to go shopping tomorrow.”

Max’s nose wrinkled. “Please tell me husband duties end at quesadillas and don’t extend to shopping trips.”

...

...

“When you said to come visit you in Monaco before heading home for the holidays, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

The curtain pulled back enough for you to poke your head out and glare at the blond sitting on the purple velvet futon. However, Logan just stared back at you with an absolutely bored expression on his face.

“You said you didn’t mind what we did,” you argued back.

“That was before we knew we would be sucked into dress shopping,” Oscar muttered under his breath, his focus on his phone screen. However, Logan quickly nudged his ribs with the point of his elbow and the Aussie let out a hiss as he snapped his head up. “What? We are, like, the two worst people you could have brought with you.”

“And it’s not fair Arthur got out of it,” Logan added with a pout.

“Who else could I have asked?” You retorted, looking between both boys with an expectant look. “Plus, I want to spend some time with my best friends before Christmas.” 

“I know you are only saying best friends to butter us up but I have to say it’s working for me,” Logan admitted with a sigh, ignoring the way Oscar rolled his eyes.

“Charles likes his fashion,” Oscar supplied lamely before frowning. “But not…good fashion.”

“Understatement of the century,” you snorted before pulling the curtain shut again and surveying the pile of dresses you had dragged into the dressing room less than an hour ago. This had been your fourth shop of the day and you still hadn’t found anything to wear for the FIA ceremony. “I don’t think he would have taken so kindly to me asking him which dress he thinks Max would think I look the hottest in.”

“And we would?” Oscar grumbled.

“Is he still pissed?” Logan asked, ignoring the Aussie before you poked your head out and took even longer to get through the dresses. “I thought he was playing nice at the dinner with Pascale.”

“He did,” you confirmed with a nod, even though they couldn’t see you as you frowned at the orange dress you had just slipped on. Definitely not the right shade. “But he has also been forwarding me divorce lawyers and articles on American Marriage Laws.” 

“Yikes,” the blond muttered. “He really hates the idea of you being married to Max.”

“He is an overprotective brother, he always has been.” You sighed as you glanced at yourself before shaking your head, moving onto the next dress which was an odd shade of moss green. “I think a part of him just blames himself for not stopping everything back in Vegas, so he feels the need to fix the mess now.” 

“Do you wish someone had stopped you?” Oscar asked, genuine curiosity lacing his voice.

You paused, unsure how to answer. 

“It’s not like you could have stopped her, grandpa, you were in bed before the sun had even set,” Logan snorted, breaking the few seconds of silence as you stared at yourself in the mirror. 

“And where were you?” Oscar retorted. “If you were up, why did you not stop her?”

“I was busy myself.”

“Doing what?”

“None of your business, Piastri.” 

“Out making your own mistakes?” 

“Excuse you—”

“God, maybe it was a mistake to bring the two of you,” you commented as the curtain was pulled open again, and you stood in the entryway of the dressing room. You looked at them, your hands on your hips and a grin on your face. “If I had to guess, I would have said the two of you got married in Vegas with the way you bicker.” 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “As if I would marry him.”

“Uh, people would love to marry me,” Logan frowned before his attention shifted to your dress, his nose scrunching up in disgust. “Yeah no, puke green looks good on no one. Next!”

...

...

“Holy shit.” 

With the FIA Ceremony being held in Baku, it meant that you and Max had to fly his jet out to Azerbaijan the day before. You hadn’t even thought about the logistics of the trip until after you had bought the dress and Max had sent you confirmation that Christian had managed to book an extra room at the hotel so you didn’t have to share with him. 

It was incredibly stupid for you to be so nervous about the whole event when it wasn’t even about you. Yet, Max looked the splitting image of calmness as he sat across from you in the plane, tapping away on his phone as he played some stupid game Lando had got him addicted to.

His nerves remained calm once you landed, his hand on the small of your back as he led you towards the car that was designated with taking you to the hotel. He was a gentleman all throughout dinner as he kept one arm around the back of your chair as he indulged in small talk with Christian and Checo. He even walked you to your hotel room door—though it was next door to his—and pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek and walked towards his room before you could even say anything. 

Max Verstappen, three-time world champion, was completely unfazed by the fact he was about to step in front of hundreds of cameras with his new wife.

You, however, were two steps away from shitting yourself. 

You had practically clung onto Oscar the next day, needing a sense of normalcy before you had to start getting ready. Though, in an annoyingly predictable turn of events, even Oscar wasn’t fazed by the upcoming ceremony and the award he was about to collect himself. If anything, he found your freakout to be highly entertaining before the boring trophy ceremony began. 

You had paced up and down the hotel room more times than you could count as you rushed around, desperately trying to look as put together and elegant as a last minute invite could. Your heart had been in your throat in the minutes leading up to Max knocking on the door. 

And for the first time, he didn’t look so sure of himself. 

Max stood on the other side of the door—a sight that made your heartbeat pathetically fast as the memory of him showing up the other night at your apartment came to mind—with a large bouquet of flowers in his hands. He was dressed in a suit, his hair styled to perfection, and yet there was a flush on his cheeks as he took in your appearance. 

“Good ‘holy shit’ or bad ‘holy shit’?” You teased, though you tried to cover up your own doubt as you glanced down at the floor-length red dress you had finally picked after dragging Oscar and Logan to seven different stores around Monaco. 

“Good,” he breathed out, his eyes glazed over like he was in a trance as he took you in. “Definitely good.”

You didn’t even try to hide your grin. “You aren’t mad that it’s Ferrari red?”

“You could have chosen any colour and I’d still consider myself lucky that you’re standing next to me,” Max admitted, something sounding in his voice that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Before you could ponder for too long, the boy cleared his throat and quickly offered the bouquet to you. “I know a boring awards ceremony isn’t exactly an ideal first date but….here.”

You took the bouquet with a wide smile, leaning down to smell the flowers appreciatively before stepping back into the room to place them on your bedside table. “Thank you, Max, they are beautiful.”

“So are you,” he said it so quietly that you almost swore you made it up. 

You turned back to him, mouth open and ready to say something before you paused as you took him in, blinking in surprise. 

Max frowned. “What?” 

“Is that the same suit you wore last year?” 

Max glanced down at himself before shrugging. “Yeah, and the year before that. And the year before that. And—”

You blanched. “You wear the same suit every year?” 

“I don’t see why I need to get a new one every year,” Max argued back, clearing his throat a little. 

“Max, you’re a three-time world champion. You are going to collect your third world championship,” you continued as you walked back towards where he was standing. “You should be wearing something special to commemorate the day.”

“I won the championship weeks ago though,” he said, his brows furrowed together like he didn’t understand your point. “What’s the big deal about collecting a trophy?” 

“You made history this season,” you said to him, tilting your head slightly as though you were trying to size him up, trying to understand him. “You should be wearing something more special than a suit you’ve worn years in a row.” 

Max nodded like he understood what you meant but his lips twitched upwards in a smirk. “Next championship, you can design my suit then.”

You blinked once. And then again. 

“You would wear something I designed?” You asked, almost wincing at how soft your voice sounded when you spoke.

“Of course I would,” he said before he offered his arm for you to take. “You have a year, so you’ll have plenty of time to work on a good suit. One appropriate for a four-time world champion.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “And you’re so sure you’ll win next season?” 

“Oh, I know it, baby,” Max grinned back at you, and something about the way he smiled made him look so young and mischievous. “Maybe you can make one of your own designs for yourself as well. We could be matching.” 

“Maybe,” you said with a smile, letting the hotel door close behind you as you tried to pretend like your heart wasn’t thundering in your chest at his implication of doing this again.

...

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yourusername 3x world champion and great personal carrier. would 10/10 recommend this verstappen guy

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landonorris you are so-

yourusername what did i do now?

landonorris you told me you picked the papaya dress

yourusername i said that so you would shut up

landonorris your wife is bullying me maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1 good

user i can't believe this is real

user THE FACT SHE POSTED HIM WITH THE TROPHY TOO

user has anyone checked on charles?

arthur_leclerc he is currently breathing into a paper bag

user ARTHUR-

charles_leclerc i'm glad your loyalties still remain with ferrari

yourusername well it is RED bull so...

charles_leclerc i am blocking you

redbullracing our favourite wag!

charles_leclerc i am blocking you too

.

It’s that time of year where I rewatch Teen Wolf/The Vampire Diaries/The Originals/Supernatural and feel like Y/N again.

Lmao!! It’s been a minute.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝑴𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — they wanted you, they enjoyed the hunt just as much as you enjoyed being chased. You didn't make it easy for them but it only prepared you that life with them wouldn't be easy.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — mob!andy barber × fem!reader × mob!lloyd hansen

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — violence, murder, blood, SMUT; minors dni, threesome, oral, daddy kink/authority kink, praise, degrading, brat taming, spanking, choking, bondage, chase kink – specific things will be mentioned each chapter

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — listen I was really trying not to already post this but I hate to! follow @sstanhoe-updates to get notifications everytime I post!!!! Don't scare yourself, these are only the chapters planned so far. Depending how people like the story there will be more 🤷‍♀️ it's as easy as that.

𝒊. 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔

𝒊𝒊. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕

𝒊𝒊𝒊. 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅

𝒊𝒗. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝒗. 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒖𝒔

This is Lee Thompson Young. Lee Thompson Young was the first ever Disney star. He starred in their first ever original sitcom ‘the famous Jett Jackson’ and two Disney channel original movies. He was their first star and their first black star. He started it all. Without Lee Thompson Young the network would NOT have gotten to where it is today. We would not have girl meets world if it wasn’t for him. We wouldn’t have any of the shows Disney has ever brought us over the years if it wasn’t for him. He started it all. He was their first star.

And today is the three year anniversary of his death. He took his own life three years ago today. He suffered from depression and bipolar.

Disney has not mentioned him once. Not on Instagram. Not on Twitter. Not on Facebook. They’re not airing his show or his movies. They are not even acknowledging him. They didn’t even on the day he died.

And that is not fucking okay with me. HE MADE DISNEY CHANNEL. HE STARTED IT ALL. WITHOUT HIM THEY WOULD NOT BE HERE TODAY AND THEY DONT EVEN HAVE THE COURTESY TO EVEN TWEET RIP.

LEE DESERVES BETTER. Please DO NOT let Disney get away with this. Tweet them. Leave comments on their Instagram. DO NOT let them forget him. Tweet the gmw stars, anyone who can get the network to acknowledge the young man who made them who they are today. DO NOT SLEEP ON THIS. LEE THOMPSON YOUNG DESERVES BETTER. HE DESERVES TO BE REMEMBERED