#and im not even at the colour stage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

runariya · 3 months ago

Note

hhiii!! im thinking a lot about a jungkook ex & loml he would be so cute arrrghl

🎤 n maybee 🥰+🤫 ?

(idolverse+fluff+smut) part of the prompt game pairing: idol!Jungkook x ex-gf! female reader genre: idolverse, Exes2L, fluff, smut warnings: references to a few good and bad milestones of BTS, allusion to oral (m. receiving), breakup, mentions of one (1) dating attempt of OC, mentions of 190811 JK because duh, Jungkook is a petty ex, various hair colours, Times Square JK, fluff, smut, they’re both needy and desperate, big dick JK, possessiveness, dirty talk, bad language, face grabbing, mouth spitting, kind of dry humping but without clothes (?), slight dom!JK, babygirl, unprotected sex (you should all be old enough to know the consequences), slight breeding kink, hair pulling, love confessions, rough and desperate sex, a little bit of angst, Jungkook is a romantic, naked proposal, lmk if I forgot smth word count: 2.512

a/n: guess who got a bit carried away with this ask? THAT'D BE ME! 🥸

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You lived through it all. Through every storm and golden dawn alike, you’ve walked beside him—Jungkook, through the raw and uncertain trainee years, standing shoulder to shoulder when he made that long-awaited debut with your other friends, with the cheers of a scattered handful of ARMYs filling the gaps of an empty room. And you—always there, even when unjustified criticism hit them like fists in the dark, when the suffocating shadows of hate and pushbacks tried to choke out their light. You were there when sleepless nights were a currency, and saesangs turned life into a nightmare not fit for the faint-hearted. You were there during all those late-night talks, when exhaustion and doubt dragged them to the brink of disbandment, and you—you, held onto them with all the strength you had left.

You lived through it all. You walked this path with him, through the milestones of glory—their first triumphant entrance on the Billboard 200, the moment they lent their voices to a UNICEF campaign, the awe that filled you as you stood in the last rows of that historic U.N. speech, watching them rise and rise as if they could never stop. You were there when the sold-out stadiums roared, when Jungkook’s nerves shook just before he walked onto that colossal stages, and in the quiet moments behind the curtains, you became his grounding, his release—your lips open, throat pulsing around his dick as the world waited for him to sing.

Once, you believed, truly, that what you had was unbreakable, a love of once-in-a-lifetime, and you knew—*knew*—that Jungkook felt it too. It was there, lingering in every glance, every touch, every whispered word. And because, when the breaking point finally came, when one triumph followed another, when at long last, *finally*, the whole world, not just ARMY, recognised their worth, when the frantic pace of success nearly swallowed them whole, you made your decision. You walked away—not out of lost love, no, never that. Love was still there, burning too fiercely for words. But you thought you were sparing him, thought you were freeing him from another tether, another weight pulling him down, when his focus should be solely on his dream, his passion. You thought, perhaps, you were doing the right thing, even despite the way his pleas and tears seared themselves into your memory, begged you to stay, haunting you even now, even when your eyes aren’t closed.

Those days after the breakup—they were bitter and cold—not easy, not for either of you. You saw him on screen, thriving, yes, but hurting in a way you knew all too well. The incident in November 2019—your first and only date after the split, after Jungkook, when a stitch couldn’t leave his mouth shut, reaching Jungkook’s ears, and suddenly his performance at the Lotte Family Concert became something else altogether—savage, fierce, almost a message to you, reverberating through the very core of your being. Something shifted the air back then, in him, in you, in the whole world.

You realised then, that Jungkook wasn’t just an ex, but a petty one at that. You should have known better. One offhand comment in passing to his mother about his hair—how you missed the look of it untouched by dye, lamenting that his soft, natural locks were lost beneath the constant colouring—and suddenly, every week he was colouring it anew, as though each hue was a small act of rebellion against you. The games continued—the thirst traps, the little taunts, even in every piece of merch he touched, designs you once dreamt up together in those hazy trainee years. You, lying beside him in the cramped dorm, building fragile sandcastles of what could be, of dreams yet unspoken. And now, those same castles crumbled as he used them to fuel his quiet, calculated rebellion.

And yet, somehow, it was still a surprise when the text arrived. Jungkook himself, inviting you to his surprise gig at Times Square. You hesitated, wrestling with your pride, your pain. But in the end, for old times’ sake, you relented—just one last favour, you told yourself.

And now, here you stand. He had slipped out of the room just after you arrived, and you watch from the window as the world goes wild, Jungkook commanding the stage as effortlessly as he breathes. The ache within you deepens, the love, the longing—they haven’t dimmed in all those years, not even for a moment.

When he finally returns, still glistening with sweat, fresh from the exhilaration of the performance, his presence floods the room, the light he is piercing every fibre of your being.

"Hey," he breathes through his panting, that soft voice slipping through the air like a secret only you are meant to hear. He smiles, and the familiarity of it twists your gut in the worst way possible. He grabs and drowns a bottle of water in one go, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that sends your heart skipping, unbidden.

And you, standing there, trying to hold your composure as the man who once was yours invades your very senses. Every drop of sweat that trickles down his neck, every movement of his tattooed arms, every unspoken memory lingering in the air. You can’t stop the surge of arousal, the way your body betrays you as your thighs press together, seeking some small relief from the tension he brings.

And when Jungkook motions for you to sit beside him on that small loveseat, your legs, weak and trembling, carry you there almost on instinct. His thigh brushes against yours as he sits down, the touch so achingly familiar it almost hurts too much to bear. You feel that old connection, sparking back to life with everything said, with everything kept in silence between you.

“I invited you here for a reason,” he murmurs, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, the sincerity in his gaze captivating your every thought. "I can’t keep on going like this," he continues after a short pause, voice weighted with something deeper than exhaustion, something that seems to eat him alive.

You respond with a gentle push, instinctively deflecting, faking an easygoing happiness. "But you're doing so well, Jungkook. Your dream’s finally yours. You can’t walk away now."

“It’s not about that,” he replies, quieter now, as though his resolve softens in the space between your words.

Jungkook straightens, taking your hand, his inked fingers finding yours with that familiar tenderness, like all the lost days between you never happened. He strokes your soft skin, the gesture so achingly reminiscent of the way he used to hold you, back when the world somehow seemed simpler, back when the two of you were all you needed.

His voice deepens, the softness in his tone soothing like your very personal lullaby. "I can’t live another day without you by my side."

His words shake your heart, each syllable removing the distance that time and hurt had created. Your eyes tremble, silver lining your lash line, as silence is everything that escapes your mouth.

Jungkook leans in, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I love you,” the confession rolling from his lips like something inevitable, as though it was always meant to be spoken, in the past, in this moment, and in every possible future. “I still love you, with everything I am. And I know you feel it too. Let’s not try again—we’re beyond that. I know we’re meant to be. Let’s just be together.”

Your lips quiver as the dam finally breaks, silent tears slipping down your cheeks. There’s no noise, no grand release, just a quiet cascade of everything you’ve held in and pushed back for so long. And in that stillness, you finally find your voice, speaking every word out of the depth of your soul. “Yes, Kook, please.”

Your lips crash into his with a force that makes your whole body tremble. You push him back with such ferocity that he’s not able to keep sitting upright, and before you know it, you’re climbing on top of him, his hands digging into your sides, pulling you closer, as though he could never have you close enough. His tongue teases along your lips, the cool metal of his lip piercings brushing your skin, sending another wave of hot arousal out of you. You open your mouth, letting him in. His taste is the same—mint drops, just like all those years ago—and it awakens a hunger in you, a longing that has only grown more ravenous with time.

Your fingers tangle in his soft hair, pulling at it, at the black fabric of his dress shirt, ripping the buttons open as though the world outside doesn’t exist. Jungkook is just as frenzied, stripping you of your clothes, his own following without a beat, the desperation between you highlighting, almost painful, as if trying to make up for all the lost time. You’ve seen him on screen, admired the way his body has changed, matured, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality of him. Jungkook looks like a greek god carved from marble, every muscle sculpted to perfection, and his cock stands proud, thick and throbbing like a prize waiting to be claimed.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he rasps, pulling you up with him, your legs wrapping around his tiny waist, your slick cunt brushing against him with each step he takes.

Jungkook carries you to the table nearby, lips never leaving yours, kissing you as though he might devour you, and as his mouth travels down your neck, over your collarbone, and to your breasts, as he sweeps everything off the table with a careless shove, lowering you onto it, you think you found euphoria just then.

“Jungkook,” you moan, arching into him as his tongue flicks over your nipple, his hand pinching and twisting your other, his hips grinding against your dripping core with a raw need that nearly sends you spiralling right then and there.

“I’m going to chain you to me,” he growls against your skin. “Going to fuck you until you’re too dumb to walk away again.”

“Yes,” you whimper, as your body clenches and trembles, your release washing over you like a wave, too intense to hold back, the stimulation from his hands, his mouth, his cock rubbing against your slick folds just too overwhelming.

“Fucking scream my name,” he demands, grabbing your face roughly, forcing your mouth open with his thumb and forefinger.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, his cock sliding through your wetness as you come down from your high. You try to close your mouth, but he spits into it, his eyes dark with lust, watching you swallow with a mix of satisfaction and need.

“That’s right, babygirl,” he smirks lazily. “I’m going to fuck you stupid now. You’re still on birth control?”

“Yes,” you manage to breathe, trembling as he grabs his cock, pumping it a few times before lining up with your entrance, clenching in anticipation.

“Shame,” he growls, his words dripping with dark desire. “Would love to fuck a baby into you, show everyone who you belong to.”

His words make you moan, your body responding to the filthy promise in his voice. “Oh, you like that, don’t you, baby girl?” he grins.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, dragging your mouth to his as he thrusts into you, his cock filling you completely, stretching you in a way that brings a sharp, sweet pain, the kind of pain you’ve been craving for years. You cry his name into his mouth, every inch of you vibrating with the sensation of him.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he groans. “You’re the fucking love of my life.” His pace picks up, becoming relentless, his hips slamming into you, desperate to make up for all the years you were apart.

You drink him in, the sight of him so raw and beautiful—his eyebrows drawn together, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back in ecstasy. His hands grip the back of your knees, pulling you towards him, keeping you close as he drives into you over and over, the rough surface of the table scraping your lower back. His balls and thighs slap against your ass with such force that you know you’ll be bruised, but you welcome it. You embrace every desperate thrust, every rough touch, pouring all of yourself into this moment.

“Fuck, Jungkook, I’m coming,” you cry out, gripping his arms for support, feeling yourself unravel under the intensity of it all.

“Fucking come for me! Cream my cock like you’re made for it.”

His words send you over the edge, your body shattering into a million stars, as brilliant and infinite as the ones that glimmer in Jungkook’s eyes when he looks down at you. And you know, in that moment, that you’re home. Truly home, where everything makes sense.

Your cunt clenches around him, and that’s all it takes to push him into his own release. He lets out a deep, guttural groan, his body buckling over you as he empties himself inside you, his breath mingling with yours, his heart pounding against your chest, both of you lost in the blissful haze of it all.

You stroke the back of his head tenderly, feeling his racing heartbeat gradually slow, matching the rhythm of your own.

When you both finally come down from the high, you lock eyes. His boyish smile spreads across his face, just like it did all those years ago, and you can’t help but mirror it.

“Chain me to you, hm?” you tease, your eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “That’s not the romantic Jungkook I know.”

A blush creeps up his cheeks and ears as he pulls out of you, grabbing the discarded tissue box from the floor to clean you both up without saying a word. But you notice the growing tension in his body, the slight shift in his demeanour, and a flicker of unease stirs in you.

“Kook?” you ask carefully, but he only glances at you briefly before turning to his duffel bag in the corner of the room, rummaging through it.

When he turns back around, your heart plummets to the floor. It’s not fear or worry that seizes you, but the overwhelming brightness of joy, happiness so intense it almost paralyses you.

“I’ve carried this with me since our first stadium tour,” he says softly, stepping closer. “But I was always too scared I wasn’t enough.”

He kneels before you, still naked, and you don’t allow yourself to breathe, to blink. “___, will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

Tears stream from your eyes once more, and you nod, unable to speak for a moment, your heart bursting like a confetti gun with every emotion under the sun. Finally, you whisper, “Yes,” and kiss him, knowing without a doubt that he’s the one. Always was, always will.

433 notes · View notes

seuonji · 1 year ago

Text

彡 things they left with you before leaving for tour.

notes ๑ gift giving! headcanons. reader and svt member does not live together!

genre ๑ fluff

warnings ๑ none

word count ๑ 1k

from aya: please reblog if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated<3

seungcheol left you the key to his home.

you’re free to go there whenever you want but he mainly gave it so that you have access to his closet!! it’s also to allow you to see kkuma.

whenever you’re there you always send him a selfie to show how the house is doing. he especially loves the photos that contains you and kkuma on his bed.

yn: [photo attachment]

yn: i changed kkuma’s hairpin today, doesn’t she look cute?

cheol: you both look adorable♡

jeonghan left you tons of his oversized shirts.

tons as in it could probably last you until he comes back. but he leaves the ones that hold some type of meaning.

he’d totally give you a whole presentation while unpacking the clothes on why he’s giving it to you.

he left you the shirt that he wore on your first date. he left you another shirt that you complimented. another one he left was one that you described as, ‘looks very comfortable.’ another was in your favourite colour while another was in your least favourite colour,, he asked you to send him photos of you specifically in that one.

he gave them with the intention that though he’s not there, you won’t feel alone at night.

he loves it when he calls and sees you wearing them!

joshua left you countless of letters he wrote.

just in case he’s not on his phone enough, to keep his presence with you, he wrote different letters. one for you to read when you’re sad, one for when you felt doubtful, another for when you felt scared.

he wrote letters for any feeling you may feel while he’s gone whether it was sorrow, anger or joy.

one day you were missing him, a lot. so you opened the letter that had ‘read when you feel alone.’ written on it.

‘yn, you’re feeling alone? cause im not there, right( ˊ̱uˋ̱ )?‘ he joked with you even through writing. ‘i know it’s a long wait but i’ll be back soon and we’ll be in bed watching movies together. i’m always thinking about you. i may not be one call away because…what if i’m on stage? but you’re still my number one priority, i hope you know that.’

it’s just long texts of reassurance that he loves you and suggestions of things you can do while you wait for him and honestly, as you read the letters, the more it felt like he was actually there.

jun left you a polaroid.

he aswell provided the films but the films were the same amount as the number of days he’d be gone.

he asked you take a picture of something everyday whether it was the scenery or something you were doing. you could either label them or keep it in a photo card binder. he wants you to talk about it with him when he comes back.

total plus if you like journaling/photography!!

soonyoung left you a heart locket necklace.

it had funny pictures of you and him on one side and the other side had a picture of you two cuddling.

he has a matching one of course! his one has so many scratches because of how much he kept opening it.

notably, he left you a cute tiger plush that was almost your size.

“think of him as if he’s me.”

“that’s weird youngie…”

idk why but initially i imagined he’d leave you a body pillow with him printed on it.

wonwoo left you his console so that you can help him keep up with his games. just kidding.

if you like reading, he definitely leaves you some books he’s collected over the years. he’d even buy books that are of your taste if his isn’t your style. he gave it so that you’d have something to preoccupy your time.

if you aren’t too into reading, he left you things that supports the hobbies you do. if you like art, he buys you paint, if you like knitting he’d buy you yarn. he finds joy in your passion.

jihoon left you a usb filled with movies and shows on it. he even provided snacks!

he loved hearing your opinions about shows/movies he liked. since you two were going to be apart, he thought you’d have more time to watch them.

when you did watch the said movie/show, he’d instantly call and listen to your opinions intently. he might end up falling for you all over again! but also it could end up in an endless banter—

“what did you think of that character?“ he asked excitedly but there was a touch of tiredness in his voice.

“they were okay,” you casually answered.

“just okay!?” suddenly the tiredness was gone.

“i said what i said!”

seokmin left you a jar filled with origami hearts, cranes, airplanes, stars and even some of your favourite animals.

as you unfold them, there’s small messages written in them. it had messages of affirmations to song/food/movie recommendations.

he looks forward to your response to the letter you opened that day.

“the one i opened today was a good one,” you said smiling.

“really, what’s wrong with the other ones? why aren’t they as good?” he asked in a whining tone.

“the one i opened yesterday said ‘listen to aju nice by seventeen.’” you recalled monotonously.

“what’s wrong with that?”

“anyways the one i opened today said to ‘eat pizza while thinking about me.’” you brushed off the previous topic.

“ah, that’s a good one, even i’m jealous.”

“you wrote it?”

“still, why would you have pizza without me…”

also, he made tons of it lasted even until he came back.

mingyu left you a cookbook of things he usually cooks for you.

the first few pages were your favourite meals hes cooked for you. they’re key parts are highlighted in your favourite colours and he even places in affirmations in free spaces. the middle pages are random meals you don’t necessarily like but,, he needed to fill in the pages. the last few pages are your favourite deserts!

minghao left you the experience of having permanent bracelets with someone.

he brought you to the store and you got a bracelet in his in his favourite colour as he got one with yours. you both spent hours just admiring the way it shined and he couldn’t stop taking pictures of it.

“now, no matter the distance, you’ll still have a piece of me that’s always with you,” he said.

seungkwan left you a self care pack.

there was skincare products, your favourite snacks and cds of your favourite films. they were each labelled with tags of why he gave those specific items.

‘you’ve always liked these, enjoy them.’ labelled on the snacks.

‘please use this, take care of your skin okay?’ labelled on the skincare.

‘don’t get too bored just cause im not there.” labelled on the cds

it’s as if he was taking care of you without because there.

vernon left you a pet fish (?)

questionable but at least you’re not completely alone. also he got consent before he bought it so, it was okay. but he also left you some of his jackets and beanies but if it was summer he’d leave you baseball caps. yknow, the sensible gifts.

it’s the thought that counts!

whenever he gets the time he’d call you to check on the fish.

and you as well, of course.

chan left you a box full of snacks.

he’s bringing the same snacks with him in his bag. he plans to call you every night so you two can talk about your day while eating the same snacks so that it seems like you two are together.

2K notes · View notes

pierregazly · 1 year ago

Text

tolerate it ꨄ lewis hamilton

lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: age gap (no specific age, just mentioned), angst, no hea

this is just me projecting my sadness with this song onto one of the drivers, lewis being the best option. there's a chance i may do a part 2 to this eventually, but im pretty content with how it ended for now. i hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t always like this.

There was a time when you didn’t wake up, clenching your eyes closed in the hopes that it would magically change the outcome once they opened.

There was a time when you would wake up, Lewis nuzzling his chin into the space where your neck and shoulders collided, peppering the skin with little kisses in the hopes it would wake you from your slumber.

There was a time when you didn’t have to hold your breath, when your eyes didn’t have to adjust to the lack of light in the room, just to get a small glimpse of the man you loved curled up next to you.

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment when it had all changed. Maybe it was at the beginning of the season, maybe it was before that. You couldn’t really be too sure.

Now, you were lucky to catch a glimpse of him in the morning, lucky to even get the chance to move your eyes across his ink-coloured skin beside you. You were lucky to even get a kiss goodbye in the morning before he left, the sun barely up when he was leaving to go to training, or the factory, or God knows where.

The words between the both of you were minimal nowadays, it was more like living with a roommate you saw occasionally instead of a lover that you were supposed to be sharing a life with.

There was a time when Lewis would giggle as he read the words of his books to you in whatever animated voice he could come up with. There was a time when the art he created was a joint effort between the two of you; now, it felt like all he did was tolerate you.

It was evident neither you, nor Lewis, wanted to touch on the topic. Both of you tiptoed around each other, not wanting to open the door that would push the storm in.

There isn’t much time spent at the paddock anymore, your career becoming the main focus of your priorities. You still welcomed Lewis home after every Grand Prix, his favourite dinner’s packaged in the fridge, the linens cleaned, and his clothes prepped.

A battle hero’s welcome, one could call it.

He always politely thanked you, a gentle kiss to your forehead before he made his way to the office for the remainder of the night. There was a time when he would debrief with you after every race, watching highlight videos on the television while he explained what he did wrong, what he did right, where he could improve and where he got a little too cocky. Now he just did it alone, the door of his office tightly closed, no sound emitting from the room.

Sugarcoating it to your friends and family was difficult. They understood Lewis’ career took center stage, but they couldn’t understand why he was never around when they came to your shared apartment, why it felt like his presence wasn’t even prominent in the home at all.

There was no way to explain it, without sounding naïve, without sounding like you were just letting a relationship that was drowning, pull you down with it.

Everyone suggested different reasons. The season wasn’t going in the way Lewis had hoped. Maybe his age is finally getting to him. Maybe he’s considering retirement and it’s bothering him. Maybe the age difference between the two of you is too much now.

Maybe he’s fallen out of love.

You knew the last one was a significant possibility. Lewis was a private person, but he showed his heart on his shoulder, especially at the beginning. Large declarations of love, obnoxious presents, at first, he wanted you to know that he was in love with you, constantly.

There isn’t a time in the last four months that you can remember where Lewis demonstrated his love for you, quick ‘love you’s’ before the door slammed behind him, a random heart in the middle of the night when he’s halfway across the world; even those had slowly stopped.

Nowadays he would hum silently when you told him you loved him, he would send a heart back if you sent one to him. He didn’t initiate anything, it just simply felt like he was tolerating it when you expressed your love for him.

It wasn’t hard to remember the times when Lewis would tell you how much he loved you, how he would show it.

He would curl up behind you in bed, the unmade sheets wrapped lazily around the two of you as he groaned into your neck, his hands resting around your middle as he eagerly cuddled up to you.

You could always feel him mumbling words into your neck, but he would never tell you what he was saying. Lewis would just smile and press a tiny kiss to your lips, the kiss heating up as time went on, your bodies moving in sync as he demonstrated his love for you in every way he knew how.

You weren’t a self-conscious person, you knew you had plenty to offer when it came to your relationship, and when it came to life in itself. You knew your love should be celebrated, celebrated in the way that Lewis used to celebrate it, the way he used to giggle as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, gently swaying to the music coming from his phone as you cooked together.

You tried to push the negative thoughts away, the thoughts of leaving, of packing up your bags and leaving in the middle of the weekend while he was away. You considered it, time and time again. The suitcases staring at you from the closet, telling you to open them, pack them, and leave.

Every weekend the temptation grew stronger and stronger. The urge to walk away, to preserve your dignity, sat heavy on your shoulders.

Every time when you thought you had decided, thought you had made the decision to pull the dagger out and walk away; an invisible force pulled you back. Told you that the season was slowly coming to its end, that the old Lewis would come back to you when the season was up, he was just stressed out and things were hard.

He never talked about his problems with you. He would debrief with you, sure. He would tell you about the problems in the race, but he would never tell you about his internal problems.

It’s how you constantly justified his behaviour, and his actions... or lack thereof.

Your mind always went back to those thoughts when you considered leaving. It always made you think about the fact that he was probably struggling, that he just wasn’t able to talk to you about it and that you leaving would probably make things worse.

It was the invisible but obvious force, that, you knew.

Lewis didn’t know about these thoughts. At least he never showed that he knew. The bags were always tucked away in the back of the closet when he returned home, like they were never sitting in front of the open door. Everything was back in their rightful place, as if the thought of leaving had never crossed your mind.

One of your favourite moments with him happened just before the beginning of the season. You were cuddled up on the couch, the remnants of a ‘Game of Thrones’ episode playing on the television, Lewis’ hand gently creating shapes on the visible skin of your back.

“Do you ever feel like you’re too old, or like... too wise for me? Like someone closer to your age would be better?”

You felt him huff against your neck, a small laugh falling from his lips before he pressed a kiss to the spot his lips were before shaking his head.

“Are you calling me old, my love?”

Immediately shaking your head with a tiny laugh, you slapped his chest with a gleam in your eyes. “You know what I meant, Lew...”

Rolling you over, he leaned over you as he pushed a lock of his own unruly hair behind his ear. “I rarely think about the fact you’re younger than me. It doesn’t affect the way in which I love you, half the time I forget that you’re younger than me. I definitely don’t think I’m wiser, that’s for sure. It’s pretty obvious who has all the wisdom between the two of us.”

The night ended with you below him, the sheets rustling, as if all the love he had for you could be encaptured in the way his eyes connected with yours. You had never felt that kind of raw love before, had never felt like everything you had done had led to that exact moment.

Trying to convince yourself that everything happening now was all in your mind was easy. The comments that your friends made, that maybe he didn’t love you anymore; was easy enough to ignore when you considered the fact that he did still reply to your messages, that he still came home every Sunday, that he still sometimes pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaving in the morning.

But then sometimes you let your mind reel, and reel, and reel. Lewis was there, but was he really there?

The conversation almost happened, after Spa. Lewis was exhausted coming into your shared apartment, his bags dropping down at the front door. You were wrapped up in one of his Mercedes sweaters, his racing number engraved on the sleeves; even if he was there physically and not mentally, you had still made him your everything, you had made him your mural, had dedicated the sky to him.

The pictures on the walls still showed a love between the two of you that wasn’t obvious anymore. The picture of you wrapped around him after the end of the 2020 season. The pictures of the both of you cuddled around each other at his family Christmas, the collage of his nephews wrapped in your arms. There were hundreds of photos that showed how life used to be.

Your mind came back to the present when Lewis crossed the path in front of you.

Like always, he went to press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, the exhaustion prevalent on his face. As he was walking towards his office, you felt the words bubble out of your mouth before you could control them.

“Did you want to watch this with me? I feel like we haven’t really spent much time together lately.”

The words stopped him in his tracks, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as his body turned in your direction. It felt like his face was mocking you with its fake sympathy as he gently shook his head, his curls moving with the direction.

“I’m just too tired. I have to go watch highlights in my office. Maybe later.”

It was always ‘maybe later’, or ‘maybe tomorrow’, or ‘I’m sorry we can’t celebrate our anniversary this year, I just don’t have time this weekend, maybe next weekend’.

It felt like you were begging him for a spot in his life, like you were an inconvenience that he didn’t want to put the effort into anymore. By now, you weren’t even begging for a line in the story, but a line in the footnotes of his life. A minuscule part, something that he couldn’t even try to give you.

Lewis made it clear he felt bad after he bailed on your anniversary. He spent hundreds of dollars on you, basically begging you for forgiveness and emphasizing things would be different soon, he promised.

He was right, things were different. Not in a good way. Maybe that was the point when things really started going downhill. It was still hard to pinpoint it.

Making yourself scarce when Lewis was home was easy. Your friends were always looking for you to go for lunch, or dinner, or out for drinks. Spending your time at work was always an easy escape, allowing the never-ending flow of work to occupy your thoughts as you went above and beyond.

If Lewis noticed that you were avoiding him, avoiding your home; he didn’t say anything. He never said anything.

Spending the weekends at home was therapeutic, your arms wrapped in another one of Lewis’ oversized sweaters. The smell of his cologne wafting up your noise as you pressed the sleeve to your face, the unshed tears refusing to leave your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, not again.

You knew you would cry, again. You always let the tears fall when you scrolled back up in your conversation with Lewis to when things first started, when he was animated, when he overshared, when he sent you photos of George, of Mick, when he forwarded you along videos of Roscoe when Roscoe was away with him.

Back when your love was celebrated, when it didn’t feel like Lewis was just tolerating it, tolerating you, tolerating your love.

Jealousy reared its ugly head every weekend as well. Whenever you saw an Instagram story, or a twitter post, whenever you saw that Lewis was out with his friends, or his team, or his crew. You knew it wasn’t fair to be jealous, that it wasn’t fair to compare yourself to the people that Lewis spent 5/7 days a week with, that it was hard for him to say ‘no’ to them.

It didn’t change how much it hurt, how much it made your heart ache to know that you truly were something that could be put on the backburner. He was always out building other worlds, but where were you?

Where were you every time he was out with his friends after a race? Where were you every time he was celebrating a win, or celebrating a pole in qualifying? Where were you every time he went live on Instagram?

Where was his love for you when you sat looking at the suitcases in the closet, again?

Gone.

It was time to accept the truth, that his love for you was gone. That he didn’t celebrate his love for you like he once did, that he didn’t celebrate you, like he once did.

He tolerated it, and he tolerated you. Tolerating something and celebrating it were too obviously different things. It had never been more evident.

The bags didn’t stare at you anymore as they laid open on the bedroom floor, your clothes finding themselves folded and inside each of them, your portion of the closet emptying out as the bags grew heavier and heavier. The bags under your eyes growing darker alongside them.

You couldn’t leave without saying anything to him, couldn’t allow him to come home to an empty home. It was obvious he didn’t deserve an explanation, and you didn’t plan on giving him one. But he deserved a goodbye.

It was clear the presence of the suitcases registered in Lewis’ mind the moment his eyes found them as the front door closed. He immediately looked at you, the most emotion you’d seen in months shining in his eyes.

“What’s going on?”

The shake in his hands was visible as he asked the question, his own bags falling gently beside your own as he stared at you.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t beg for a place in your life anymore, Lew. I’m sorry.”

The resignation was evident in his eyes, but there was no fight in them as he sat on the couch opposite you. It almost hurt to know that he wasn’t going to argue, wasn’t going to ask you to stay, to not break free and leave the both of you in ruins. It almost hurt, but you knew it would be the case.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t try to stop you as you went towards your bags, he didn’t look up from his ink-stained hands as the click of the lock sounded. He didn’t try to say anything more as the suitcases rolled out the door.

You didn’t see the tears gather in his eyes and then fall down his cheeks as the door closed behind you, the longing on his face as he debated with himself internally if he should run after you. Beg you to stay. It was so plain to see now, you were younger, and wiser, and he didn’t deserve you anymore.

Lewis knew the truth. You deserved someone who would celebrate you, celebrate your love. Not someone who could only tolerate it when their own life was falling apart. He didn’t deserve you, not anymore.

i really hope you guys liked this!! im really not too sure if i'll make a part 2, but if there's a lot of demand for one i will. thank you for all the love. also i read this like 4 times so if there's any mistakes im sorry lol

tag list

@iloveyou3000morgan @leclercdream @myescapefromthislife

(if you're interested in being added to my taglist for all my works please reach out! i didnt tag anyone who only requested to be tagged for specific parts of my other work!

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fic #taylor swift trope #formula 1 #f1 #lewis hamilton x female reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 imagine

924 notes · View notes