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nburkhardt · 2 years ago

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Be Your Alibi

This was supposed to be a small thing, it ended up not being small. My bad. Btw, the narrative is all over the place sorry about that. Couldn’t stick to one person this time around. Special shout out to @mentallyundone for all help with parts of this means a lot!! 🩷 (this definitely should’ve been like a three parter, also no read more because the app doesn’t have it and it deletes my stuff when I do use it)

ENJOY~~

The whole group is in the hospital, half of them needing to be looked at and the other half not quite threatening anyone but definitely trigger ready. It’s not long until the police come in, immediately handcuffing Eddie to his bed and having someone stand there to stop anyone from entering. Nancy manages to convince Dustin that he’ll be fine, they’ll figure out how to get the handcuffs off and keep him out of jail, but for now the handcuffs and police officer stays.

“What else could we tell them to let him go?” Dustin demands. It’s been officially two weeks since they defeated Vecna/Henry/One and Hawkins is slowly putting things back together. The Party is all together again and the actual adults are back with a very alive Hopper. The only ones not with them is Max, who’s still in an induced coma, Lucas is with her and Eddie, he’s still in the hospital with a hand in handcuffs but overall recovering and most likely annoying the hospital staff (and the police guard).

“Powell told me that unless he has a solid alibi that isn’t a kid, there’s nothing until Owens releases the cover story” Hopper explains, a glare directed at Dustin who had his mouth open again, “no, your little club doesn’t work either. Half of it is kids under eighteen.”

Dustin huffs and crosses his arms, “well! What else could work?”

Standing next to him is Steve, who bites his lip as he thinks to himself. It’s not the plan, it could end up horribly for him and Eddie, but they do have enough information on each other and all their past dates to be a very reliable alibi. He’s also not a child, turning twenty very soon actually and Wayne could back him up. It could, technically work.

Looking around at the lost and frustrated faces, it makes up his mind. He pushes himself off the wall and clears his throat, getting the attention on him. “I can be his alibi”

It’s uncomfortably silent now, he feels his skin crawl as everyone in the room stares at him. Nearly all of them look doubtful, Dustin’s snorting like it’s a joke, “oh yeah? And what were you doing? You don’t even like Eddie”

Steve blinks at him and holds back a laugh, because him not liking Eddie? Not possible. If anything, he likes Eddie too much. Way too much actually. Wayne told him once that he and Eddie can be insufferable actually. Not that anyone in this room knows that.

“I can be his alibi,” he repeats louder, ignoring Dustin completely and staring straight at Hopper, “He had hellfire and I went to the basketball game, but he came home with me. We had pizza from DomiNick’s, I have leftovers and we watched Star Wars: Return of the Jedi. We didn’t finish it, got too caught up into each other.” He glances away, face flushed as he thinks of their last date night, “We took a shower then crashed in my room”

No one says anything, all just staring at him and he’s even more uncomfortable. If Eddie was next to him, he’d make some sort of joke to get the attention off him. But he’s not here and Steve just wants someone, anyone to say that the alibi will work.

“Are you, are you really suggesting that you and Eddie were hanging out?”

He shakes his head, “We weren’t just hanging out, we were on a date. If you want more, proof or someone to back me up, we can ask Wayne. Eddie’s uncle, he’ll back me up”

Hopper shakes his head, rubbing a hand down his face before looking back at him. “Harrington, you do understand what you’re saying, correct? You’re willing to say you’re dating another guy.”

“You don’t even know if Eddie will be willing to do that!” Dustin nearly shouts out, “you think someone will believe that? The story has a lot of details and you’re saying that you like men, but there’s no way anyone would believe that!”

Steve crosses his arms, determined and annoyed that they don’t know how much thought he’s actually put into this. How he knows Eddie will eventually agree and repeat the story with even more details, like how they decided making out on the couch was more fun than watching Luke Skywalker try to get Darth Vader away from the dark side or that they ended up in the shower together before falling asleep in bed wrapped around each other. “I know what I’m saying Hop. I’m completely fine with admitting it now, and Eddie will be fine with it”

Hopper nods and grabs his shoulder to pull himself up, “come on then, let’s go now while you have that story fresh. We’ll talk it over with Munson, you sure about his uncle?”

“yeah Wayne will be fine with it” he nods and looks back at his friends, all of them staring at him with varying looks of disbelief and confusion, no disgust or anger. Well, Mike looks annoyed and maybe there might be disgust. Honestly, that just might be Mike’s default for Steve. Hopefully there isn’t disgust or anger later on when it comes to light how true his ‘story’ is. He doesn’t think that matters right now though, “Eddie won’t need us to get the story straight- um, that really did happen. Just not that day” He finally admits once he and Hopper are outside and getting into his car.

Hopper’s in the passenger seat, he still looks exhausted over what had happened. The man didn’t even bother with demanding he drove, “The hell you mean?”

He grips the wheel, pulls out of the driveway and takes a deep breath before admitting, “I’m actually dating Eddie. We’ve been together before Starcourt was burned down, he kept bugging me at Scoops. Didn’t think anything of it until his friend Jeff explained to me that Eddie was actually flirting with me, told me to either tell Eddie I don’t like guys or to give him a chance.” He glanced over out of the corner of his eye to see Hopper rubbing a hand up and down his face, “That was nearly nine months ago, I’m practically living with him and his uncle”

The drive is even more silent after, Hopper’s mumbling something and Steve can’t hear him. But he’s at least not cursing him for dating another guy, so it’s not all terrible. They make it to the hospital in no time, parking close enough to the front for Hopper. Steve spotted Wayne’s truck while parking, thankfully they wouldn’t have to make multiple stops.

“So, you, uh you’re gay then?” Hopper’s gruff voice cuts into Steve’s thoughts, “That’s what you’re saying?”

He shakes his head, not answering him yet. Flashing a smile at the receptionist “Here to see Munson, please”

It’s only once they’re in the elevator and alone that he answers, “I’m not gay- I still like girls. I just, just like Eddie too. I think he called it bisexual?” Shaking his head he looked back at Hopper, “doesn’t matter right now. Wayne knows, it’s hard to keep things from him, he probably already knows all of what really happened, Eddie doesn’t keep many secrets from him”

He shakes his head and smiles, thinking it’ll be nice to have another actual adult around that knows what hell they’ve been through. Hopper doesn’t bother saying anything else and Steve’s a little thankful for it. This was a lot even if he offered it, once he’s outside of Eddie’s room he ignores the police officer in favor of just opening the door (also ignoring the “hey!” From said officer) and walking inside with Hopper following him.

“Stevie-baby!”

He doesn’t bother hiding how hearing Eddie’s voice makes the tension go away, he’s smiling and there’s Eddie sitting up in bed with his yellow sweater pulled over the hospital gown, a notebook sitting in his lap. Wayne’s sitting down in the chair next to him.

“Hey Eds” he moves closer and sits next to him on the bed, “Got some bad news and uh, good news I guess?”

Eddie squints his eyes at him before glancing at Hopper, his body goes a little stiff and Steve notices Wayne sit up straighter in his chair. “bad news?”

Steve reaches for his free hand and squeezes, “You’re stuck with handcuffs still since the police want a solid alibi. Since the cover story still isn’t out yet”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying not to get too upset. “And the good news? Is it good or just, not bad?”

“Well, it’s news?” Steve doesn’t know how exactly to describe the fact that he’s willing to out himself and Eddie and their whole relationship, it’s a lot, something he didn’t think they would need to do at all. At least not of people not in their inner circle, “I…offered to be your alibi. That we were together when everything happened, pizza with Star Wars. My house, and uh,” he glances up at Wayne, “Also said Wayne could also back us. That he knows about us”

The room isn’t quiet, the beeping from the medical equipment is still going and there’s the bit of noise from outside but everyone in the room is quiet. Eddie’s eyes are wide and Wayne looks concerned, and Steve is gripping Eddie’s hand like a lifeline still. Hopper has moved enough to lean against the sink and he hasn’t spoken yet, he doesn’t have a reaction.

“Stevie, you- are you sure?”

He nods and moves to sit on the bed, facing Eddie, “Yeah, Eds. I’m not, like excited but there’s nothing else anyone could come up with. They don’t want to take the kids words and everyone else in town believes Hellfire is a cult. We know each other, been together so often and Wayne has seen us, the boys too. We have a number of dates behind us that we wouldn’t need to study a fake story”

“But, baby- I can’t ask you to put yourself out there like that, I don’t want you to-“

Steve shakes his head and ignores the eyes on him and Eddie as he leans forward to rest his forehead against Eddie’s, “You don’t have to, I’m offering. I love you, honey. I don’t want you in jail, you’re innocent. I’ve thought about it, they’ll figure out why we didn’t come forward. Or we explain how dangerous it is for us, either way, I’m doing this for you”

Eddie’s eyes are watery, he nods and slumps against Steve.

It doesn’t surprise Wayne to see the boys like this or to hear those words of love either. He’s been hearing it for the last few months now, even before the official three words were said from his boys. Eddie is and always will be a sap and Wayne has found out that Steve is right there with him. He doesn’t make it obvious that he’s still on edge with the idea of them outing themselves to get the police off their backs. For now he looks over at Hopper, raising an eyebrow, “Ain’t you supposed be dead?”

Hopper shakes his head, rubbing a hand down the back of his head, “Didn’t stick. Harrington wasn’t lying?”

“He wasn’t, these two are lovesick fools. That should be enough right?” Wayne glances at the boys and finds Steve rocking Eddie slightly, he can barely catch him telling his nephew about what he missed, “need a straight answer, will this work?”

“Christ, it should. Powell’s good, reasonable. The whole- thing should work” He looks a little off center as he looks at the two on the bed before looking back at Wayne, “He said your nephew doesn’t keep secrets from you, what’d he say?”

Wayne crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair, “Apparently he’s been to hell and that Steve’s been dealin’ with it with y’all since eighty three. Things make a whole lot more sense now”

“Yeah, that sums it up” Hopper nods along before sighing, “I don’t want to say it because the last time, I ended up locked away in an Russian prison. But, this could be it. Hopefully we’re done”

The plan is simple, bring physical proof and statements and Wayne to the police station. Steve’s got pictures, the boys statements along with Wayne and a determination to get his boyfriend out of handcuffs. Nothing was gonna stop him, even if Dustin still didn’t believe it would work.

Powell looks permanently tired and unamused, “Sit down, Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson. What can I do for you?”

Steve sat up straight and placed his box on the desk, “I’m here to tell you, Eddie’s innocent and he wasn’t with Chrissy when she died, he was with me”

“Why was she at his trailer then?”

Steve made sure to keep his face natural, and not annoyed so quickly. “I’m not sure about that, maybe she broke in and thought he was there? We’ll never know but what I can tell you, Eddie was at my house with me when she died. We had pizza from DomiNick’s and watched a movie, then crashed in my bed.”

It’s quiet then, Steve and Wayne both on high alert waiting for Powell’s response. This is where it’ll be either a death sentence for both Eddie and Steve or a realization that there’s at least one more person in this small minded town that isn’t close-minded.

Powell sighs and runs a head down his head and just looks at Steve, then slumps just a bit, “Look, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying. I’m not going to do anything to you for even implying it for your friend. I don’t think you’ll want that to be your official statement to the public, correct?”

“Well, I mean, no. But Eddie really is innocent, there’s no way he did any of it.” Steve answers back and slumps in his seat, “Could- is there any way it doesn’t have to be released officially? Like- like-“ he’s grasping at straws trying to figure out something, anything to say.

“Look, kid. I’ll take your statement and visit Munson to see if it matches-“

“it will!”

He sighs, “I’m sure it will. Since the town decided to do a witch-hunt against him while I’m chief of police, and I don’t want another one happening. I’ll get take the cuffs off and start paper work to get him under a house arrest instead, then i’ll help you figure out a different way to stop a mob”

Wayne eyed him, crossing his arms, “you’re willing to help now?”

“Truthfully, I didn’t think your nephew did any of this. I only caught him selling once but besides that? His hands are technically clean. I saw what happened to all those victims, I don’t see how he would’ve done any of that by himself.” Powell explained and leaned forward looking between the two, “So, we’ll have your statement, take Mr. Munson’s and seal it. The town won’t hear the real one, I’ll give them something else entirely”

Steve nodded while his brain raced with thoughts. “So, you’re uh, okay with what I was saying?” He needs to know if his and Eddie’s secret is safe. Needs it said aloud and not just implied, before he can feel even remotely okay with what might be happening, it needs to be said.

“Harrington, I’m not sure what exactly you want from me right now. Just know that what you’re telling me will be between us and will stay sealed once this is all over, as long as I don’t catch either you or Munson doing anything illegal, all is fine with me.” Powell explained and pulled out a drawer, “Now, we’ll start that paperwork and then I’ll visit the hospital later, I assume both of you will be there?”

Paperwork doesn’t take long and before Steve can really process what just happened, he’s back instead the comfort of Wayne’s truck and they’re driving back to the hospital. It’s been two days since he told his friends and coming up with this fake alibi at least until Owens and the government comes in with their own cover-up. He’s hoping that happens before any official statement comes out from Powell.

The excitement of Eddie being released under house arrest is dimmed just a little by them getting ambushed by their friends.

Steve is too busy being an overbearing boyfriend and watching Eddie’s every move as they walk into his house to notice the group in the living room. Eddie’s too busy whining about being fine, “Stevie, I’m fine. The doctors said to just take it easy. You don’t have to be this paranoid, just- gimme your hand” he quickly grabs Steve’s hand and stopped them from moving, “All I need right now is this, okay? Well, maybe a bed and you as my pillow-“

“Ew!”

Both of them don’t jump necessarily, they do flinch and Steve pulls Eddie closer to himself. That’s when they notice Dustin and the rest of them, Dustin’s the one they focus on since he’s the one who spoke up. He looks more annoyed than anything, there’s not a hint of anger or disgust.

The rest of the group looks curious, Steve can see Robin’s face and she looks happy and pissed off. He knows it’s because they’re soulmates and he never told her about his boyfriend. The other one that stands out to him is, Will. He’s wide eyed and look’s grateful for some reason.

Steve sighs and says, “Look, maybe we can talk about our relationship another day? Eddie just got out of the hospital and I just outed our relationship just to save him from being thrown in jail.” He doesn’t tell them that he’d also just like to be in bed with Eddie and know that he’s alive and safe with him.

There’s grumbles from most of the group, everyone walking out and the only ones left with them is Robin and Dustin. They’re not surprised, especially Steve. These two are stubborn. “We’ll leave after you explain why you never told us about you, thought we were best friends?”

“You are my best friends,” Steve starts off and flicks his gaze between both of them, before settling his eyes on just Robin, “We meant to, even when the relationship was still new and before the Russians appeared. But then the upside down was back and then school was back.”

“Eventually we just sorta, gave up trying to figure out a good time” Eddie took over, squeezing his hand before looking at the other two, “we still had plans to tell you. My friends, they’ve known since the beginning and Stevie wasn’t out to either of you so- plans happened but so did life”

Robin and Dustin are quiet and Steve doesn’t know what to do with that, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, really.”

“Dingus- you don’t have to say sorry” Robin says then pulls both of them in a hug, “I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to say that. I’m happy for you, really! Maybe a little annoyed you managed to get a boyfriend before I got girlfriend” she whispers the last part in his ear and he laughs and squeezes her, “I do want all the details of how you became a couple!”

She smacks a kiss to both of their cheeks before walking out and then it’s just them and Dustin.

“I’m- still so confused, but I guess I get it. I’m sorry for exploding on you, Steve.” Dustin admits, shaking his head, “Just, why would you hide even a friendship between the two of you from me? I’ve been trying to get you two to meet and you’ve known each other the whole time?”

Steve sighed and moved away from Eddie to pat Dustin’s shoulder before pulling his cap down, “Look, Eddie and I’ve known each other for years. We did go to school together- yes we didn’t run in the same circle- and it took me getting a lame job-“

“And a hot sailor outfit!”

He rolled his eyes and Dustin pulled a face, mumbling out “ew” before looking back at Steve, “anyway, it took a lot for us to even get together and then after, I just- I just wanted something for myself for a bit but his friends already knew then his uncle, so we did planned to tell you guys especially after you joined hellfire. But you have to know how scary it is for us”

It takes Dustin a second for it to process, because that’s one thing Steve knows about him. He’s a genius but sometimes things just don’t process the same way. Especially things like this.

Dustin nods, “yeah, yeah I’m sorry for getting upset again. So you were going to tell us- tell me?”

“Of course, dude. You’re our annoying little brother, would’ve told you guys. We did have a plan, the upside down ruined it” Steve grins and moved back to Eddie.

Eddie grins too but doesn’t move closer, instead he wraps his arms around Steve to lean his weight slightly against him, “now scram, I wanna cuddle my boyfriend.” That gets his desired reaction, Dustin scrunches his nose In annoyance and walks rolls his eyes before walking out the door. Leaving the couple alone officially.

Instead of moving, Steve turns Eddie around so they’re facing each other and leans his forehead against Eddie’s. Eyes closed, arms wrapped around each other. Only a simple kiss is enough for them right now, just enjoying being each others arms is enough. They’ll eventually go to Steve’s bedroom, undress to their boxers and climb into bed. Steve on his back and Eddie not necessarily curled into his side, since his bites are still healing and hurts, but still he gets his wish for his boyfriend-shaped pillow.

Tomorrow they’ll officially tell their friends about their relationship and explain what happened with Powell. For now, they’re just happy to sleep in the same bed with each other and not have to worry about the upside down or monsters. All that matters is them.

_______

Wellllllllll, I didn’t mean for this to get this long. Like, I was just wanting the alibi thing but with an actual secret relationship 🫣 I went a little outta hand and honestly I probably could’ve wrote out them telling their relationship to everyone but decided nah. Maybe I’ll write that out another time. Tagging those who made comments on my original post & those I talked to about this!

@i-less-than-three-you @artiststarme @stevesoli @grandwretch @val-from-lawrence @mentalcyborg @boop-ba-doop @lwhoscribbles @itsfreakingbats @annoyinglyfanon @counting-dollars-counting-stars @moonshadows-13

#steddie #steddie au #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #Steve x eddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #Steve Harrington fic #Eddie Munson fic #it’s a secret relationship reveal ✌️#it was supposed to be a small thing and it turned out to be a long thing instead #nburkhardt writes

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 6 months ago

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The Silver Dragon (7)

Cold Fire

Having been worse than ignored by Daemon at the funeral, Arianwyn finally comes face to face with her father.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Author's Note: daddy's home...

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The first time Arianwyn called someone ‘papa,’ it was not Prince Daemon Targaryen.

King Viserys had come to the nursery to see her dragon. He’d made a habit of doing so about once per week. Arianwyn and Aemond loved when he came, for they would get to sit on his big, soft lap and listen to him tell stories.

Aemond fell asleep halfway through the first story. It was about a beautiful Valyrian princess who lived her life confined in a tower, who only escaped when a handsome Valyrian prince fell in love with her without even seeing her and rescued her on his great dragon. That story was a particular favorite of hers.

She snuggled closer to the king, holding her dragon – who was also asleep – in her arms. “Read another one, papa?”

The king frowned, his face crinkling. “Oh, little Aria, I’m not your papa.”

How could that be? Aegon and Aemond called him ‘father,’ and Helaena called him ‘papa.’ Why was it different for her? “Why not?”

“Because someone else is your father,” the king said. “Your father is my brother – he is your papa. I am your uncle, your kepa.”

She considered for a moment. Aunt was her aunt, not her mother, and Aunt was married to the king. She supposed it made sense. “Where is my papa?”

“He is…” the king, Uncle, looked away from her, out the window to the sea. “He is far away.”

“When is he coming back?”

“I don’t know, my sweet.” He looked sad. Very sad.

Arianwyn did not want him to be sad. If he was sad, he wouldn’t read to her more. “Which story is your favorite, Uncle Kepa?”

He laughed, but she didn’t know why. But he began reading again, so it was fine.

That evening, once Aegon and Helaena had returned from wherever they went during the day, Arianwyn explained what she had learned to Helaena and Aemond. But Aegon laughed at her when she mentioned her father and how she couldn’t wait for him to come back.

“Why would he come back?” he asked.

It seemed like a silly question to her. “To see me.”

Aegon shook his head. “He doesn’t want to or need to. He has a new family across the sea – two new daughters. Besides, he’s had more than ten years to see you. If he wanted to, he would have done it already.”

Aemond started to yell at him and threw a stuffed velvet rabbit at him. But Arianwyn said nothing.

What Aegon said felt like the truth. She could feel it in her chest like the weight of half a dozen books. Her father stayed across the sea because she did not want to see her – he did not want to be her father.

She never called anyone ‘papa’ again.

The main dining room at High Tide was as lavish as the rest of the castle. A great table, some twenty feet long, ran through the center of the room. From the uneven grain and sun-bleached color of the wood itself, it was clear to all who laid eyes on it that it had been constructed of driftwood – Lord Corlys was many things, but subtle he was not. The twenty-two chairs set around the table were made of the same wood, backboards reaching up in points shaped by the sea.

Prince Daemon Targaryen sat on one of these chairs – at the head of the table – slouching with disinterest as he picked at the wood of the armrest with his fingernails. He did not look up when the queen entered the room, his daughter trailing sheepishly behind her.

Arianwyn thought her heart would burst out of her chest for how fast it beat. She could no more decipher her own churning feelings than the expression on her father’s face. She curtsied, just as her Septa had instructed. But she said nothing.

Neither did Daemon.

After long moments of silence, the queen spoke. “My Prince, may I introduce the Lady Arianwyn.” She fixed him with her most withering glare. “Your daughter.”

“Yes, I can see that,” the Prince drawled, at last looking at the girl. He scanned his violet eyes over her like she were livestock to be appraised. “She has her mother’s piggy little nose.”

Arianwyn clenched her fist to prevent her hand from flying to her face, resisting the instinct to cover the apparently offensive feature. A fire ignited in her heart, setting her blood boiling.

The queen herself had to bite her tongue to hold back a curt reply. Instead, she smoothed the front of her dress and spoke again. “I am pleased to say that she is a fine, accomplished young lady. She has excelled in her studies, and the Dragonkeepers report she is equally talented as a dragonrider.”

Daemon grinned as if he had been told a foul joke. “I’d heard the egg hatched. Let me guess, a bronze she-dragon?”

Forcing out a shaking breath, Arianwyn shook her head.

Her father pursed his lips, “Pity. You could have called it after your mother. Few enemies would stand a chance against the Bronze Bitch.”

“How dare you?” Arianwyn spat, her oath of silence and indifference entirely abandoned. “How dare you insult my mother?”

Alicent placed a hand on her niece’s elbow to calm the girl’s rage. But Arianwyn ripped her arm away, stalking around the massive table to advance on her father. “You’ve never cared about me for a single moment of my entire life. And now, after ten years, you finally ask to see me only so you can insult me and continue to defame the woman you tortured in life?” She reached the end of the table, fire blazing in her grey eyes as she stared down at Daemon. “What kind of cowardly monster are you?”

Sighing, Daemon pulled himself from his chair. He was so much taller than her, even when he leaned to brace his hands on either side of the driftwood table. “I did not ask to see you.”

Something cracked in Arianwyn’s chest at those words, as the last shred of a primal, desperate hope for reconciliation with her father – a hope she did not know she still held – died. Tears finally spilled from her eyes, and she whirled around toward Alicent.

The queen’s heart broke when she saw the utter devastation on the girl’s face – knowing she had been its architect. “I am so sorry, Aria,” she breathed. “I thought… A child should know her father.”

Before either woman could say anything more, Daemon strolled casually around the opposite end of the table, a self-satisfied smile across his lips. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, but there are people in this castle I should like to meet.”

Neither Alicent nor Arianwyn moved a muscle until the door had thudded shut behind him. Then and only then did Arianwyn fall to her knees, letting out a cry that would shatter the frozen heart of an ice dragon.

Arianwyn cried for hours, despite Alicent and Brynna’s attempts to soothe her. But there was no calming her fury. It continued to grow, burning brighter and hotter than even the black fire of Balerion, a ferocity that could only come from a shattered Targaryen heart.

She had told herself that she did not care what Daemon thought of her, that she had lived her life happily enough without him, and even that she hated him after what he had done to Rhea. Yet, true as those feelings were, there remained a piece of her soul that yearned for the love and approval of her only remaining parent. To have that piece destroyed, even when it was suppressed for so long, was a wound from which most would never recover.

But Arianwyn was not just any girl. She was the blood of Old Valyria and the daughter of Runestone. She would endure.

When her throat was raw from screaming and her eyes at last dry of tears, she let the fire that burned in her soul cool. It was not quenched – nor would it be for many years to come. Instead, the sprawling red blaze in her chest joined together in a single flame of crackling silvery blue. This fire burned not with heat, but a cold that made the icy fields beyond the Wall look like a scorching Dornish desert.

Fire burned in the soul of every Targaryen born – but precious few had ever burned cold.

Alicent offered to have dinner brought up to Arianwyn, but she refused. She would not hide in a tower like a damsel from a story. She would walk once more into that dining room with her head held high and look upon her father with her mother’s grey eyes. She would show him just how like Rhea she was – that even bent and cracked, she would not break.

#aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond x oc #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond fic #hotd fanfic #aemond xf!oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #the silver dragon

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maverick-wingman · 1 year ago

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Broken Skies (Bradley Bradshaw x Mitchell! Reader) Chapter 1

Note: I apologize for the long long wait. I was really lacking motivation and just on a long writer's block for the past few months. But here is Chapter 1 for Broken Skies. The Sneak Peak is linked below for those that have not read it yet. And also thank you @justabigassnerd and @callsign-dexter for motivating me to write more! ❤️

This is a redo of my Bradley Bradshaw Part 1. This is more of a prequel rather than a sneak peek this time. Mel - “one who is fearless and daring.” Canon characters are out of character. Iceman will be healthy in this fic.

Warnings: Nothing big, maybe angst, other than a brief mention of death, and military inaccuracies. NOT grammar/spelling checked. Some switching between first names and callsigns.

Masterlist | Sneak Peek | Chapter 1

In the room with Cyclone and Warlock, Maverick looked at the screen and saw 2 very familiar faces. Cyclone looked at Maverick and asked, “Is there a problem, Captain?” Maverick looks at him, “You know there is sir.” Cyclone signed and zoomed in on your picture, “Lieutenant Mitchell, callsign Mel, one of the best pilots I have seen in years. She was top of her class. Two confirmed air-to-air kills. You must be very proud. Captain.” Maverick smiles, “I am, sir. I’m proud of her every day.”

Maverick was indeed proud. Starting from the second you were born, he knew you would be a mini him the second he got called for a parent-teacher meeting for you not following directions and being a bit rebellious. There was also the first time he took you on your first little joyride, instead of being scared like most people that are thousands of feet up in the air going hundreds of miles per hour, you were so excited. You had the time of your life. You especially loved when he did aerobatics. You kept on asking him to do another one, he often wondered how you never got dizzy or felt nauseous. As you grew older, you went on to be just like him. If not, maybe even a little better. Now here you are, getting called back to Top Gun to be a possible candidate for a special detachment. This isn’t like the past missions you’ve been on. This is life or death. He knows there is a chance someone isn’t coming back.

Cyclone then zoomed in on another person. Rooster. “Bradley Bradshaw aka Rooster. I understand you flew with his old man. What was his call-sign again?” “Goose, sir” “Tragic what happened.” Warlock cuts in defending Maverick. All Maverick could do was nod. Memories of what happened replaying in his mind.

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“Dad?” You saw your dad sitting by the bar alone. You thought he’s in the desert working on the Death Star. Why is he here? He turned around and you smiled excitedly going over and hugging him as tight as possible. You felt him hug back just as tight. “Hey sweetheart.” You always loved the daddy-daughter hugs. It made you feel safe and relaxed. You haven’t seen him in person in almost a year.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’re supposed to be somewhere in the desert.” You saw the look he gave and you couldn’t help but grin. “You pissed off another admiral, didn’t you?” He chuckled at your response. “You could say that.” You sat next to him. “So… what are you doing here at North Island? Did Uncle Ice tell you I was here?” You asked him.

“Well uh…. in a manner of speaking.” You noticed the look your dad had. There was worry in his eyes. You hadn’t seen that look in a long time. “You’re here for the detachment… aren’t you? That’s why you’re here.” He gave you a look. You knew the answer. “How bad is it going to be?” You looked to your dad. “I can’t say too much yet, but … this is something no one’s ever seen.” All you could do was nod. Before you can react you felt him rub your shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. You’re the best fighter pilot I know.” You let out a little chuckle, “don’t let Uncle Ice hear you say that.” You heard him let out some chuckles.

You talked with your dad for a little longer to catch up on everything. He told you that the Kazansky’s invited you both over for dinner tomorrow night. You were excited, as you have seen your Uncle Ice and Aunt Sarah in a while. You heard your name being called, looking over you saw Jake and Javy calling you over. You heard your dad’s voice, “go on, go catch up with them.” You looked over to him. “Are you sure?” “I’m sure. We have plenty of time to catch up more.” You smiled and hugged him one last time before going over.

“What’s Pops doing here?” Jake asked after pulling you into a hug. You didn’t want to ruin the surprise. “He’s here visiting old friends.” You responded as Javy pulled you in for a side hug.

As you talked, you caught up with Phoenix, you met some new members: Bob, who was so sweet, Payback and Fanboy who both were really nice, although you felt a little competitiveness between them and Jake and Javy. Jake would not stop teasing Bob, you had to nudge him a few times hoping he’d stop messing with the guy.

Maverick watched as his little girl bonded with her teammates. Despite Jake's reputation he trusted him that he wouldn’t leave his daughter behind, but he is unsure if he would do the same for the rest of the team.

You looked over and saw a familiar face entering the Hard Deck. Bradley Bradshaw.

Bradley walked over to the group. “Bradshaw.” “Hangman… you look good” “Well, I am good Rooster, I’m very good. In fact, I’m too good to be true.” Hangman responds, smirking. Bradley then looked over to you. “Mel.” “Rooster.” “Why am I not surprised you’re here?” You rolled your eyes, scoffing at his remark. You knew what he was thinking, he still believed the reason you made it this far is because of your dad and uncle. “Well who else did you expect?”

Before Bradley could say another word, Jake cuts in, “you’re just jealous Bradshaw, admit it, you will never fly like Mel here. She takes risks unlike a certain someone. She’ll make a great mission leader, but anyone that follows you will just run out of fuel. Waiting for the right moment that never comes.” You felt Jake’s arm snake around your shoulders.

Jake is your best friend, you could say. Sure, during training he would leave his wingman and fly off, but during the missions he was never like that. At least not to you. He saved your life; that’s how he got his first confirmed air to air kill. If it wasn’t for him, you would not be standing here right now.

Bradley suddenly felt a ping of jealousy growing inside him. Since when were you and Hangman so close? But Bradley being Bradlet, he chose to ignore it. “And anyone that follows you will just end up in a grave.” That ticked you off a little. You wished Jake would let you tell everyone what really happened that day. You don’t get why Jake wants to keep it a secret, he loves to show off. Only a few people know the exact details.

“They’re on me! I can’t shake them!” you said with a panicking voice. With an enemy aircraft chasing after you at full speed. Trying different maneuvers, you dodged as many bullets that you could. That’s when you heard a beeping sound; the enemy got a lock on you. Just as you started accepting your fate, there was an explosion sound. You looked over and saw the enemy fighter jet blowing up into pieces. “You owe me a drink, Mel.” Y/N looked over and saw Hangman giving her a grin. He just saved your life, for once not living up to his callsign.

After that, it was Hangman and Mel. Jake and Y/N. You became best friends and each other’s wingperson.

Other than Rear Admiral Jackson, Javy, Maverick and Iceman, no one knew it was Jake that saved you. Jake wanted to keep it a secret. With the help from Iceman, no one knew what really happened. Because the mission only needed 2 pilots, it made it easier to hide the truth.

Maverick was watching the whole scene play out in front of him, feeling the guilt bubble inside him knowing he was the reason his daughter and Bradley are no longer friends. He remembers how close they were as kids, how they never left each other’s side. He hopes this mission will bring them together again.

The night went on, he ended up being broke after not realizing the rules at Penny’s bar. Jake and the others had the joy of “throwing” him out of the bar. You knew it was all fun and games. You knew your dad took a liking to him after he saved your life that day. Even you let out a little laugh watching it all play out.

You heard a familiar tune starting to play in the background, you looked over to the piano and saw Bradley sitting there. The tune that your uncle Goose, Bradley’s dad always plays. You remembered how you and Bradley would sit on the piano with your dad, Uncle Goose and Aunt Carole gathered around singing “Great Balls of Fire” together. Your eyes wandered around and noticed your dad outside staring towards where Bradley is. You knew he misses them too.

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You sat next to Jake and Javy waiting for the debrief to start. You had this feeling that something was going to happen today and it was not the good kind of feeling. You know Bradley will not be happy knowing who the instructor for the detachment is going to be. You also know he will be mad that you didn’t warn him. But he has no right to feel that way. After all, you two were basically on no speaking terms. Cyclone’s voice disrupted your thoughts. “Good morning aviators.”

At morning debriefing, Cyclone and Warlock went over the details of this mission. Just from hearing the details about what is going to happen, you knew this was going to be a detachment like no other. As he introduced who the instructor was going to be, you knew exactly who they were talking about, even though you already found out last night. You only know one person that fits the description so perfectly.

You couldn’t help but look over to Bradley, wondering how he is going to react when he sees your dad. You can see him tense up as he sees your dad walk in. This is going to be a very long day. Bradley made eye contact with you and he was not happy, just as you had predicted minutes ago. After the debrief, you and everyone else waited to be selected to go up in the air. First ones up were you, Phoenix, Bob, and Rooster.

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As you walked towards your fighter jet when you heard your name being called. “Why didn’t you tell me he was going to be the instructor?” You knew he was going to ask this. “How am I supposed to tell you if all we ever do is argue when we talk?” “Yea, well you’re the one that always starts it” “Are you serious Bradley? Look at us. Besides, would it really make a difference if I did?” “Yea, it actually would have.”

As the training session went on, no one has been able to get a lock on Maverick. not even you. You were close but he is always steps ahead. And thanks to the little bet, everyone was punished with 200 pushups.

Now it is time for Phoenix, Bob, Hangman, and Roosters turn. You listened to the radio as Jake asked Bradley some personal questions. There was one secret you never told Jake, it was the exact details about you, your dad, and Bradley. All he knows is you and Bradley had an argument, he left and that was that.

You heard your dad’s voice. Encouraging Bradley to take a little risk instead of playing it safe. Jake’s voice came in warning them about getting below the hard deck level amd telling Rooster to take the shot. Soon through the radio, you head the alerts going off telling them to pull up. You are holding your breath at this point. No matter how upset you were at Bradley, you didn’t want to lose him and your dad. A few seconds later, you heard your dad’s voice. He got a lock on Bradley. What on earth were they thinking?

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You stormed up to Bradley angry. “What was that Bradshaw?! Are you trying to get kicked out?” “Oh like you care, you probably would love to see me off this mission.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It’s like he never changed. “I worked hard to get here and you know it!” “Well not everyone is lucky enough to have their dad and the Commander of the Pacific Fleet as their teacher!” He snapped back. You froze, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth. Not wanting to continue this anymore, you shook your head and walked away in silence. You knew if you stayed longer, you would end up saying something you’d regret, and possibly escalating the argument.

“Why are you such close friends with Hangman? You know what type of person he is!” You stopped in your tracks. Why did he change the conversation to this? Was he jealous? You turned around facing him once again, letting out your anger. “You’re right, I know what type of person he is. You don’t! You let your judgments get clouded too easily, you’ll just assume the worst in people!” You saw the look Bradley had on his face, hearing him let out a scoff, “all he ever did was leave his wingman behind! Everyone knows that! Why won’t you believe me?!”

You don’t know what came over yourself. You’ve kept it in for years. Coming up with reasons why Bradley cut off contact with you, why he barely said anything to you during your time at Top Gun, why he treated you like you were nothing. He didn’t even believe you told him that you had nothing to do with his application being pulled. And now all of a sudden he cares about who you’re friends with. You knew what Hangman was like to others. That’s just a character he built up; he doesn’t want to seem weak or soft, easy to push around. Sure he messes around during training, but when it comes to the real thing, he takes things seriously.

“You want to know why? Fine. He never left me hanging! He didn’t cut off contact with me for something I didn’t do! He trusted me! He never assumed I got in just because of my last name! He didn’t hurt me the way you did!”

You were mad at your dad too, especially at first. But after a lot of begging, he finally told you why he pulled Bradley’s application; you understood, it was an extremely difficult decision. Adding on to it, it was his best friend’s dying wish.

You quickly walked away going to the locker rooms. You heard Bradley call out your name, but you chose to ignore it. Today did not turn out the way you had expected. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since the first time you saw Bradley in years and he is still the same.

Taglist: @alluringshawn @anurst @urmomssidehoesposts @sarahjoestewy-blog @adoringsebstan @70spadfoot @khaylin27

@littlebadariell @ems-alexandra

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw x y/n #pete mitchell x daughter!reader #bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader #top gun imagines #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fics

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windvexer · 5 days ago

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greetings, chicken!! how do I tell if my protection magic is working? i made an art witch ward (collage of relevant plants, with sigils) and i've certainly noticed that my relatives who I dislike have been making shorter visits, but how do I know if it's protecting me against spiritual and intangible things? thank you for your time!

Good morning.

This is a question of theory, the problem being we may not agree on how things "work."

I currently basically believe that metaphysical energies overlap actions, and vice-versa. Imagine that mundane real-world behavior (relative choosing to visit, driving over, knocking on door, standing in living room, etc) is overlapped by an intangible "aura" of energy. We might call this the astral body of action or something, idk.

When we cast spells, by and large, we are generating otherworldly energies that also impact otherworldly energies.

In my paradigm, the ward blocks out or somehow limits the astral body of action associated with visits, and therefore the visits from relatives are impacted.

Therefore, in order for mundane real-world behavior to be modified, spiritual and intangible things must be modified first.

If your ward is specifically designed to protect against some aspect of the visits, and that aspect is mitigated or removed, then that means the ward is already impacting the spiritual and intangible.

Right.

But wards can be imperfect and fail. What if there is some intangible energy or spirit that able to reach you, yet at this time doesn't seem to be linked to any mundane real-world events?

Then you wouldn't have anything physical to observe for signs of change.

In order to test this, I am afraid we must enter the intermediate. I don't know of an easier way to do things.

The very first idea is, don't worry about it. If you have no sign or symptom of unwanted spiritual intrusions, and you are not struggling to deal with energies the ward is supposed to keep out, then bob's your uncle.

The second idea is using spellcrafting as a method to test your wardmaking skills. Build more wards of the same type or that hinge upon the same principles, and build them specifically to block ongoing spiritual energies. These energies don't have to actually be bad, they just have to be something linked to events you can sense or observe.

If you tend to be able to build wards that continuously block out what it is you are trying to block out, then it's a safe assumption that your original ward also works correctly.

This is useful because it gives you plenty of experience in building wards and spellcrafting. And if the original ward fails, you've got some experience (and maybe even some spare wards on standby) to help remediate the issue.

However, it requires a level of understanding of your craft to be able to build sturdy experiments and carry them out, and then also to analyze the results.

The third idea is using energy work to directly test and challenge the ward. This can be very fun to do with a practice partner if you have one, as they can also attempt to send energies into or past the ward.

This third thing may be more directly accessible than building whole new wards just for testing, but you have to know how to do energy work.

Choose an energy which should be able to pass freely through the ward, and move it around a bit, not trying to test the ward.

Then move it through/past the ward, and see what changes occur.

Choose a second energy which the ward should block, and play around with it.

Then try to move it through/past the ward, and see if you can.

Here again some level of cunning is necessary: is the ward built in such a way that you can invite/allow anything through? Then it may not block energies you intentionally send.

Perhaps the fastest and easiest way to test a ward is through energy reading, where you can just observe and engage with the astral body of the ward, and see for yourself if it's working or not.

However, that requires you to be able to do energy readings, which is a skill that can take some time to develop and hone for field work, as it were.

#answered

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brights-place · 6 days ago

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Hiii I have 2 req ideas and I can’t really choose between them so could you choose for me??

1: miles42 finding out that his little sister has a bf

2: miles42 having a little sister that works at achemex too, but she didn’t really do what she’s supposed to do on missions and just messes around all the time

42! Miles Morales finding out that his little sister has a bf

Pairings: Miles & Lil Sister! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: I'd say that it'd be funny fr miles 42 staring down at his sister when she has a boyfriend and be like "Who you sneakin off to" like how rio acted to miles 1610 when he went off with gwen.

- You've recently started to date a guy your age and he made you feel happy about yourself and felt close - So obviously you had to hide it from your brother and mama rio because you weren't exactly to tell them since whats going on with the city - Here you were getting read for a date with him but as soon as you opened the door you had miles staring you down - you were like one year younger then him but here he was arms crossed and scowling "who you runnin off too" it felt like you were under investigation - "No one" as you try to move past he blocks it "uh uh you tell me where you going? who you going out with? is it genkie? I never liked that guy" "YES YOU DID AND HE'S YOUR BESTFRIEND?!" "Shush" (yall better get the refrence) - So here you were sat down as he pryed you off of every information - "So where you running off to?" "To a karoke place then bowling" "With who" "Lila, Mari, Will and [Guys name}" and here was the longer even worse stare down as he spoke "Does ma know" "of course she does!" - So when you left he was obvs in his prowler costume making sure you were safe walking around but when he noticed how you were holding a guys hand he was 100% gonna scold you and then tease you - As your older brother he was worried yet he made so much fun of you - If you go on dates he makes sure your protected properly with everything you need and make sure that he treats you right when he picks you up miles doesn't want any of that stupid bullshit - Uncle Aaron scared the shit out of your boyfriend Him and Miles was obvs staring him down and he 100% was scared but they welcomed him but reminded him that if he ever broke your heart they'd make sure he gets hurt - Miles 42 would be an amazing brother every version of miles is and he protects you cause your his younger sister even if its one year apart - Miles likes to tease you alot I mean you teased him about his partner so he had the rights to tease you back - def walks into your room when you and your bf are cuddling and makes sure to keep the door open as you shout at him to close the door - Broke into your room again when you were gonna kiss your bf but he was holding a shoe "Nah bro dont even try it or try me drop my sis" - Miles and your bf become gaming buds and the fact he makes fun of him when he loses oh how smug he is and makes fun of your boyfriend proudly - he's very supportive after awhile but is still defensive he already lost his dad and you along with your mother are everything to him he can't lose another uncle aaron and him also may have tabs to make sure that he never does anything shitty to ya.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

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frozen-waters · 8 months ago

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General Johnigail/Marston family hcs?? <3

ofc ofc yay yay yay!!!!!!! sorry for making John a little lover boy whenever I write johnigail and there are also a few angsty-ish hcs in here

More Johnigail and Marston Family hcs!!!

• John loves when Abigail plays the piano (canon but it makes me giggle)

• John also watches Abigail sew new clothes or mend old ones. I don’t mean this in a weird way but he likes watching her sew without her knowing. in like a sweet way. she looks peaceful to him

• I’m not sure how to explain this but the Marston family (or mostly Jack) is a few The Smiths songs to me

• speaking of The Smiths modern Jack would listen to them

• after Abigail died, Jack wished he had read to her more in his tween/teen years

• even as Jack gets older, he still laughs sometimes at the stories Uncle tells

• Jack also kept all of Abigail’s dresses that she had after she died. he didn’t really know what he was gonna do with them but he couldn’t stand getting rid of them. he did the same with John’s clothes but he kept them so he could wear them

• in modern when Abigail has to go to work in the morning or something John will wake up before her and turn on the car for her so it’ll be warm by the time she’s gotta go

• John and Abigail dancing together!!!!!!!!!!!!!! idk when but maybe if Uncle still plays the banjo or overhearing music is Blackwater!!!!!!!!!!

• modern John had a gamecube when he was in highschool but the only games he played were like. sonic, eternal darkness, and resident evil. dug it out of Hoseas garage or attic when Jack became a teen and "gifted" it to him -> has it in the livingroom and John plays it and Jack will watch him sometimes -> John also thought Jack was insane when he didn't know what he was supposed to do w a gamecube. to him its The Gift

• in modern when Jack was like 7-10 he'd infodump for an entire dinner about a book or show he read or watched in excruciating detail

• Abigail loved dressing up Jack and his sister

• the Marston daughter used Johns shirts and basketball shorts as pajamas for like. five years straight in modern

• mosquito's were Jacks worst enemy in his tween years

• Abigail loves the horses they keep on Beechers Hope. she likes keeping them all pretty and clean

• John buys Abigail jewelry sometimes. it takes all his brainpower to find something that will look nice with an outfit of hers but its worth it when he sees her get giddy over a necklace he got her

• John bought Mary-Beth's books for Abigail since they were mostly romance and he would read them to her. after John died Jack would read the books to her on her and John's anniversary along with taking her to the movies. or he'd read them to her if she asked

• in modern I know deep in my bones John had some weirdass senior quote

• in modern the Marston daughter was afraid of the dark and had a horrible habit of going into John and Abigail's room and accidentally scaring them

• modern Jack wants to have a bunch of little nick-nacks and cool stuff in his room but everything he finds he feels like it doesn't fit the "vibe" he wants

• John does recognize Jack's empathy towards the animals on the ranch. not that he knows what to do or say about it. tried sugarcoating some sickness among the animals to Jack once but eventually had to tell him what was actually happening and Jack was very sad about it

• Abigail did teach Jack to sew a tiny bit

• John would give Jack "relationship advice" (as if he fucking knows anything) when they'd go into Blackwater to sell the ranches goods

• every year for John and Abigail's anniversary he'd take her into Blackwater and take her to see a movie

• Abigail always notices when John wears a gift she got for him no matter how long ago its from

• when Abigail's sick John tries to keep the house nice and tries to cook for her even though they're both fairly bad cooks

• Jack absentmindedly tells Uncle about the book he's reading when they sit on the porch together and Uncle comes up with some story he witnessed similar to the book

• John also takes Jack to see a movie for his birthday. the first time he did Jack does that thing where he gets excited and cant really talk straight and John was proud of himself

• Jack does occasionally like helping Abigail cook or gather things in the garden

• as Jacks hair gets longer he braids little pieces of it without thinking sometimes

this wasn't as long as the last one whoops

#rdr2 #john marston #abigail marston #jack marston #johnigail #the marston daughter #rdr2 headcanons

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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Love Will Remember {One Shot}

Title: Love Will Remember {One-Shot}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Words: 13.5k

Warning: High Angst, Heartbreak, Fluff, PLENTY OF WORDS, Mild NSFW References, Mentions of Pregnancy, FWB Gone Wrong, PLOT HEAVY, Time Jump

Summary: You and Lewis had an agreement, nothing but sex. It was an easy agreement to adhere to but somewhere along the line things changed as did your feelings. What now?

Note: Here we are again with over 7k words.🥴 This started one way and then took an interesting turn toward the middle. I hope you enjoy this. Also, I have nothing against Chelsea.🤣

Note II: I promise to do better by Tyrone Mings in a separate fic.🤞🏽 He needs his own fic.

As always, thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~

"I knew this wasn’t a good idea even before I touched you. From the second I looked into your eyes I saw it," he dejectedly said.

"Saw what?"

"How innocent you were. So fucking innocent," he spat as if the words burned his tongue.

"We shouldn't have ever done this. I shouldn't have done this," he added.

Your heart sank which made your bottom lip tremble. What did you say to that? What could you say? The silence in the room stretched on and on. You wanted to say sorry but sorry didn't feel right. Who apologized for telling someone they loved them? Who apologized for such a pure and selfless emotion?

The longer the silence stretched with his back still to you, the more you felt pathetic and stupid. You regretted telling him. You weren't supposed to fall for him. It made no logical sense why you would in the beginning so simple fucking seemed like an easy deal.

Then you got to know him. He lowered his walls inch by inch, allowing you to see more and more of himself. You saw the loyal and loving son he was, the supportive and helpful sibling, the kind and gentle uncle, the intelligent and diligent businessman, and the sweet, passionate, and attentive lover. With all of that, it had practically happened without you knowing until it was too late.

Then the words slipped from you at probably one of the worst times when Lewis was balls deep inside you, giving you the "fall in love with me" long and deep strokes. He heard them the moment you said them, and it was evident because his entire body tensed. You'd came but you were almost sure he hadn't. Seconds later, he'd pulled out and looked at you with horror.

"You said..."

"I know," you replied, not needing him to finish his sentence.

"Jesus," he pushed out just under his breath, but you heard it in the stark silent room.

"Look I’m sorry I couldn't control my feelings and remain cold and unfeeling like you."

Lewis spun around to face you so fast it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash.

"Don’t. Don’t do that. It’s unfair."

You knew it but didn’t care. You were frustrated now.

"I didn’t plan this. Hell, I sure as fuck didn’t expect it and I definitely didn’t mean to tell you. I just...I--."

You didn’t know what else to say and the moment your eyes met his you could read him clear as a book. He didn't feel the same. It wasn’t something shocking. You hadn't ever expected him to feel what you did. In the sea of women he’d been with, you were so different.

Whereas they were drop-dead gorgeous and bodacious with lines of men chasing them and perfectly beaten faces at all hours of the day and a wardrobe to rival the queens of the monarchs you’d never fit that bill. You were labeled a tomboy, considered to be one of the guys because of your interest in sports, not anti-makeup but definitely inexperienced compared to your other friends. Hell, you were inexperienced in a lot of things.

You never felt like you could hold men captivated. It wasn’t until Lewis had you seen a flicker of that. He was right. You were innocent. He was the 2nd man you’d slept with in your life and even he’d had to teach you several things about pleasure. It was embarrassing in the beginning, and you were sure after a few months he’d tire of you, but 3 months passed then 6 then 9, and before you knew it a year had ticked by, and he was still steadily seeing you. You were confused, but who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Lewis sighed again, a deep, heavy, woeful sigh and you knew what he was going to say.

"We can't...I can't--. "

Just as you were going to open your mouth to stop him, his phone rang. It was an interruption you were thankful for. You didn’t think you could stomach the words.

"Hang on," Lewis said standing in his nakedness. He picked up the phone and you took a moment to look over his body.

It would be the last time you would see it. You didn’t think you were living some fairytale or a modern version of Pretty Woman, sans the sex worker trope. You knew not to expect happily ever afters. Those were things of fiction. This was the end of your time together. He was just about to say the words.

The tattoos that decorated his back held you mesmerized. You could still feel the muscles hidden under that beautiful golden bronzed flesh. The very muscles that spoke of how much power truly resided within him. Your fingertips remembered how they danced under them. It was etched to memory by now and you knew it would be hell to forget it.

When Lewis walked to the bathroom, you snapped back to the here and now. You sat there for a few moments, grabbed a pillow, and cried into it hoping it muffled any sound you might make. You didn’t want him to see this. Not only was it embarrassing but for some reason you felt shame. You’d never thought that when you agreed to no strings attached fun with Lewis that you’d feel shame about it. Now that shame burned within you.

After allowing yourself a minute or two to cry you dried your cheeks and got up to get dressed. You’d read the room and the writings on the wall, and you knew what you had to do. You had to walk away first. Seeing his back as it got further and further away would break you. At least this way, you could retain some of your dignity.

In under 3 minutes you’d gotten dressed and gathered your things. Lewis was still in the bathroom, and you took the opening. Hesitating at the door your tears returned.

"Get a grip, Y/N."

You walked over to the notepad beside the bed and scribbled what was under the hurt you were feeling.

Lewis,

Grateful for the blessings, memories, and time we spent together, and thankful for the lesson. I’ll keep your secrets and in that you can trust. I wish you endless success and luck.

-Y/N

With that, you walked out of the suite with your head held high and back straight as your tears streamed down your face.

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Two and ½ Years Later-

-Lewis-

"There she goes everyone. In the last 2 years, her skill have really gone into overdrive. She went from 18th in the league to 1st. Her stats rival some of the best in the sport. Here she goes setting up the goal. Her signature move is to pass it to the left while her team guards and blocks before McMullen will head butt it over for her to cut through the other team bringing it right up to the face of the goalie before she effortlessly beams it in."

"She has perfected this move and does not miss. If Chelsea has done their homework, hopefully, they have figured out a way to stop her."

"They would be the first. Somehow Y/N has made this move undefendable over the last 2 years. It really shows her grind to become this force of nature. Her teammates always say she’s first in training and the last to leave. She lives, eats, and breathes the sport and that dedication shows."

"Oh, oh here she goes! The pass! The defense by Arsenal here is incredible. This is one of their strong areas. No one is getting by which sets Y/N up to part the team on the left and here she goes!”

The stadium was so loud it was impossible to make out any understandable speech.

"She is so good at intimidation, and we see it here. There's the ball she really likes to bounce it off her chest then knees and--.”

The referee blew his whistle, stopping play because of an offense by a Chelsea player. Then it happened out of nowhere.

"Ooooooh!”

The stadium echoed the sound then it all went silent. Now even a referee's yellow card could be heard dropping to the grass.

He leaped to his feet from his location in the box seats he'd bought years ago to ensure he always had a spot to watch your home games when he was home. He couldn’t see you through the huddle most of your teammates had around you while a few others brawled with the other team.

Even he knows that was a foul move. The game wasn’t even in play. It was clearly a move to take you out of the game. Everything in him wanted to run from his box down to the field but he remained there. His legs planted unable to move them. He had no right. It had been almost 3 years since you truly interacted rather than seeing each other across a room or in the audience of an award ceremony. 3 years since that night.

Long minutes passed as everyone tried to get some control over the field. Team owners tried to wrangle brawling players and medics rushed the field pushing through the huddle of your team, even some media managed to get on the field to snap pictures and capture up-close footage. It was like hell had broken loose.

With every minute that passed, he felt even more on edge. Then the ref blew his whistle and made his call.

"Serious Foul Play, number 76, Brewer. Expulsion. 2 free kicks Arsenal"

The stadium echoed with claps, cheers, and admonishment for the call. It was a good call. He watched the offender exit the field talking a lot of shit but focused on you. You were lying on your back with your head angled backward and a grimace on your face.

"Fuck! Is she okay?"

"I can't tell," Miles replied.

"Shit."

After another minute or two, you got hoisted onto the board and carried off the field. That only made him worry more. Unable to stay where he was any longer, he left the box and made his way toward the team areas. You’d had scares before in your games, but this had to be the worst one in the nearly three years he’d been watching by far.

When he got close, he watched one of your teammates take the second free kick, making nothing but net. Chelsea’s only hope was to bring it into extra time and even that would take impeccable athleticism for the remaining 8 minutes. He doubted they had it.

The clock winded down 4 minutes and still no goal had been scored by Chelsea. That was when he caught the eye of the assistant coach, a good friend of his. He waved him over and watched as he approached.

"How you doing Lewis. We didn't know you were in the house tonight."

"I'm always here, you know that. How is she?"

He sighed then shook his head.

"A few bruised ribs, mild to moderate left hamstring strain, left shoulder popped out we had to reset it and she’s complaining her chest hurts. Could be muscle strain, or tenderness or more serious pretaining to her heart.”

"Fuck!”

"Yeah. She’s playing tough but she’s gotta be in a lot of pain."

"That player should never play again!"

"Yeah. Measures will be taken. Do you want to see her? I'm sure she'd like to see you. All the times you've been here asking about her."

"No. I...I don't think that's a good idea. Like always don't tell her I was here."

He nodded then shook his hand.

"Hang out in the associate box instead of going all the way back up."

He took the offer and called his team down. Against all the odds Chelsea managed to tie the game leaving 2 minutes of gameplay for possible extra time.

"Wild. It's clear their goal was to get Y/N out of the game. They knew she was the key."

It was more than obvious, and it pissed him off more. Suddenly a whistle blew, and he watched you slow jog onto the field. Half the stadium was cheering and the others murmuring amongst each other trying to understand what was happening. He was one of the latter.

"Isn't she hurt."

"She is. What is she doing?"

He zeroed in on your face and saw you grimace. You were definitely hurt. The list of injuries he’d just been told was serious and could be made worse with you aggravating them. You huddled with your team, and he noticed the Chelsea players looking at each other clearly panicking. You broke the huddle with a combined warrior's war cry that had become a ritual and signature of your team.

You broke out in formation, and he watched as play began again. The opponents made no attempt to hide their intention--keeping you held down. They tried everything they could to intercept the balls while heavily guarding you, but the ball never touched your feet. Instead, you took all the heat of them over guarding you, testing your strength and injuries while your team scored 2 goals in one minute.

"It’s a wrap,” Miles said while fanning off toward the field.

"Pack it up!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the commentary of Miles and Daniel together. While Chelsea had a plan, you came with your own plan, and they played right into it. Within the 15 second reprieve, he saw the pain on your face. You bent over and rested your hands on your knees and dipped your head down. He hated this.

The whistle sounded again, and play resumed. He watched the formation change on your team and the other team went back to equal guard leaving only 2 players on you. He snorted because he knew what was going to happen.

"Big mistake!”

You stood there inactive, which made the players on you watch you in confusion. They looked around unsure what to do as play continued around them. He did a quick glance at the clock noting there was under 40 seconds of play time. Your team made a run for the goal which made the players on you scramble to try to stop the goal by any means. That left you wide open. In a misdirection move the ball flew to you and you took off from midfield at top speed.

He watched your ball control in awe. By the time the other team realized their error it was too late. You were in the zone. You faked to the left breaking one of your opponents, making them slip into what must have been a painful split. You faked right and your second opponent dived for you missing completely.

You booked it to the goal as the rest of their team chased after you. When you were about 10 feet from the goal you kicked it to the right, then your teammate kneed it up and front kicked it back to you.

Everyone in the stadium was on their feet and it looked like it all moved in slow motion. You high jumped up getting major air then instead of your signature move you stuck your leg out and went for a flying bicycle side-kick. Looking tighter than the Nike check logo. Once your foot made contact he knew you had it and sure enough, the ball zipped through the air like a bullet and collided into the net signaling the end of the game and Arsenal's win clinching yet another title.

The stadium went absolutely wild. You remained laid on the field as your teammates jumped on you, cheering and celebrating another victory.

"She's a beast!"

They hoisted you up and put you on top as they passed you in the air. Though he could tell you were in pain you were all smiles. He couldn't help but smile too. He’d always loved your smile. It was the reason he always tried to make you happy just to see you smile. His heart thudded painfully and as strong as it ever had when he watched or thought of you. This had been going on for 3 years now and he was still hopelessly and painfully in love with you.

The field filled with press, the rest of the team, managers, and other personnel, and they all were in celebration mode. Your teammates let you down in front of a tall man who was smiling just as widely. He wrapped his arms around you and rested them just at your hip. It was an intimate move and just like that his hackles were up.

When he bent to your ear he watched your interaction while he wondered who he was and what he was to you. Over the years while you’d become a sensation and top player for Arsenal, you'd been able to keep your privacy and stay away from the paps. There was little to no info on you out there which meant he had no idea if there was someone in your life.

The thought that there was, made him clench his jaws though he probably had no right to the reaction. Not after he’d let you walk out and away from him nearly 3 years ago.

"Let's go."

Without waiting any longer, he turned, and a few people started pointing at him and shouting his name. Soon everyone near him was waving and cheering and calling to him. He smiled and waved back as he tried to slip out before you saw him. He shouldn’t have ever come no matter how much he missed you, no matter how much he craved having you near, and no matter how much he regretted what happened those years ago. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t any good for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

Even now as you were sitting in your gown for the celebratory dinner hopped up on some superior pain medication you could have sworn you saw Lewis. Or the back of his hooded head. Was it really him? You didn’t know. It could have been anyone similar to his height and build wearing a hood. While your ears had picked up some murmurs in the crowd shouting his name, it could have been any Lewis.

You sighed and closed your eyes. You were being ridiculous right now. It had been almost 3 years and you were still thinking about him and looking for his face in the crowd and him in every man you encountered.

“How pathetic, Y/N. How much more do you want to suffer? Haven’t these years been enough?”

Just then, a pang of pain rippled through you that took your breath away. You threw your head back and held your breath as you tried to push through it. Perhaps the quick look-over you’d gotten during the ending part of the match wasn’t enough. Everyone had insisted that you be admitted but you knew you had to make an appearance at this dinner.

“I’ll do it after,” you groaned out to yourself.

“Y/N.”

You straightened and put on a brave face. “Ready. Let’s go.”

You stood on shaky legs and shook off the lingering pain while pleading with your body to give you a few more hours. Your job didn’t end after a win. The show must go on.

Thirty minutes later you were walking the gold carpet with the rest of your teammates smiling and being interviewed by reporters.

“Y/N!”

You approached a tall woman with gorgeous curly 4B hair that had subtle auburn streaks. The look complimented her nutmeg tone and striking features.

“Hi.”

“Hi to you. First of all, I stan you so hard! Today’s game was incredible. You were incredible. How are you? Should you be here tonight?”

You giggled. “Thank you. I uh—I appreciate you saying that. It was truly a team effort today and I’m just happy we could bring it home.”

“Can we talk about that hit?”

You shuddered remembering it and the immediate shock and pain you felt. “Uh, sure.”

“Did you see it coming?”

“No. I was focused on the goal and the plan.”

“Do you feel it was deliberate? A lot of fans and spectators are saying she had a plan to take you out of the game so it could make it easier for them to win.”

You’d heard the rumbles too. You’d had problems with Cadence Brewer for years. She’d tried taunting you for your entire career and when you’d surpassed her and any rankings she could have ever held the taunting became worse. You didn’t know what you’d done to her, but it was clear she didn’t want to be friends or even sportsman like.

“Um, I don’t know. I—I try not to go down those thought pathways. I go out there, play the sport I love with one goal in mind, to win. I really don’t focus on anyone else or their feelings toward me.”

“Well said and your skill sure speaks for itself. Are you doing okay tonight?”

“I’m doing all right, feeling not my best, sore but I’m dealing.”

“You look spectacular. Give us a spin.”

You did but it was a rather slow one. Anything more you would give away just how not your best you were feeling.

“Wow. You clean up well.”

You laughed then fanned her off.

“Thank you.”

You heard your name across the way and found your team waving you over.

“Looks like I’m needed. Thank you.”

You walked over to your team and posed for some pictures. It took another fifteen or so minutes before you made it inside and when you did, your hamstring was throbbing uncontrollably.

“If it isn’t the MVP of the night.”

You looked beside you and found Tyrone’s smiling face. You returned his smile the best you could and looked over him. He always did clean up nicely. His locks looked freshly tightened and skin glistened. He was a fine man indeed.

“You clean up nice,” you both said at the same time.

“How are you holding up?”

You bobbed your head from side to side indicating you were not great but not terrible.

“That could change in an hour though,” you added.

Tyrone held his arm out for you, and you looped it. He’d been hanging around for about 8 months now. Ever since a charity game between Aston Villa’s WFC and Arsenal’s where he’d cheered you on rather than the women’s side of his club you’d struck up a friendship. Truth be told, you couldn’t shake him. He showed up to your games when he didn’t have one, commented on your socials, constantly asked you to hang out, and even accompanied you to football events both of you needed to be at. It was nice, he was fun, and you now considered him a good friend.

Everyone on your team believed he was doing everything he could to woo you. While you couldn’t believe it, you did see some small signs he might be into you. You’d never reciprocated any of his advances because you didn’t think you could. You truly believed something inside of you was broken.

You had no interest in a repeat of what had happened to you a few years ago. You could call it once bitten, twice shy, or whatever. The facts were simple, ever since that night you’d pushed pause on anything that wasn’t football. You dedicated yourself to your training and becoming indomitable. You’d learned your lesson then and didn’t want any others.

Instead, you trained like a beast and put in all the work necessary to step your game up. In truth, you’d probably used football as a crutch and a means to forget Lewis and what your heart still felt for him. You’d even done your best to stay away from everything related to him but that had proved to be impossible. You lived in the same country, ran in the same circles and he was everywhere. You could barely walk down the street without seeing a magazine that didn’t have some coverage of him. It also didn’t help that F1 was one of two national sports of England and people truly lost their shit over him.

In the last near 3 years, his image had only gotten bigger, his fame more blinding and his alleged conquests more gorgeous. You had all the evidence needed that he didn’t give a shit about you. Within two weeks of you, he was rumored to have someone else he was giving his attention to. That was probably the worst part. You couldn’t escape the rumors.

The rumors were everywhere, and those rumors triggered some of the worst nights for you. For a long time, you couldn’t sleep because your imagination ran wild. You couldn’t do much of anything without thinking of him. Your only escape was football. At least for that you probably should thank him. You’d used him to become the monster you were today.

Arsenal management introduced you and the team to tens of people. You shook hands, smiled, posed for pictures, and mingled. Barely anyone stuck out because all the faces and names blended together after an hour. You knew this win was bolstering Arsenal’s image but when someone approached you and proposed you play during the offseason for a major off-season league it hit you that this win had catapulted you into a whole different layer in the atmosphere. You’d become bankable.

“Y/N, let me introduce you to some major players,” your assistant coach said to you just as Tyrone came up on your right side with two glasses of champagne.

“Uh, sure.”

Tyrone held his arm out to you again and you looped it. As you walked across the room you took the flute of champagne he offered and downed it.

“I love watching you work a room,” Tyrone whispered against your ear.

His lips brushed against you making you glance up at him. “I had no idea.”

“There’s a lot you have no idea about,” he replied, voice still tipped lower than ever before.

“Like what?”

His lip quirked up and he leaned closer again. “Like how irresistible I find you and how badly I’m trying to not pull you into a corner to kiss you senseless.”

Your eyes bugged. He’d finally shown his hand. Long gone were his flirty innuendos and could be, couldn’t be hints. You didn’t know what to say, all you could do was stare at him.

“Eh-em.”

You tore your eyes from Tyrone’s and looked at your assistant coach who nudged his head forward. Looking in front of you, you got the wind knocked out of your lungs for the second time in 30 seconds. Your eyes locked with Lewis’ burnt honey ones and instantly your heart thudded painfully in your chest.

“Ah!”

You gripped your chest and five men lurched forward in an attempt to console you. Before anyone could touch you, Tyrone took your hand and wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you close.

“Are you alright?”

You rubbed at your chest and took a few breaths before you nodded.

“You should have been admitted,” your assistant coach muttered.

You waved off his concern and smiled. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Tyrone cupped your cheek, bringing your face closer so he could really assess you. The gentleness in his touch and the tenderness in his eyes took you by surprise. Yeah, he’d been flirtatious before, but this was different. He’d declared intentions moments ago and suddenly these touches felt different. Your heart should have been touched, warmed at least but nothing. That wall you’d built around your heart steadfastly remained.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

You lowered Tyrone’s hand and looped yours with his before looking in front of you again. Though you tried to keep your gaze from his, your eyes still met Lewis’. His jaw was tightly clenched, eyes blazing with intensity and coldness. He looked like he was on the verge of decking someone. You were introduced to the two men flanking his left and right and then him. You had two ways to play this and decided on the path that would keep your promise from those years ago.

You smiled and held out your hand to him, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Lewis didn’t budge. He stared into your eyes as if he too were making his own decision of how to handle this moment. It felt like an eternity passed before he took your hand and shook it. Once he touched you, a static electric shock coursed through you and though it was slightly painful, it felt good though. Too good.

As you slowly shook hands, your eyes remained locked on one another as if no one else existed in this room and neither of you had anywhere else to be. Again, your heart thumped painfully against your chest cavity making you flinch. Yanking your hand away, you flexed your digits trying to shake off the feeling.

“Em, sorry. I dislocated this earlier it’s a little sore,” you appeased.

Why? You didn't know. You didn't have to explain why you wanted to keep your parts from his. You looped your arm with Tyrone's again and held tighter to him. You caught Lewis's eyes moving to your joined arms and yet again the tight clench of his jaw couldn't be missed.

How odd, you thought before you were distracted by one of the men with him addressing you.

“Amazing match, Y/N. Lewis has not been able to stop gushing about your skill and how coolly you handled yourself.”

You looked at Lewis who was still looking at yours and Tyrone's interlocked arms.

“Uh, thank you…I guess.”

“Still haven't learned how to take a compliment, huh.”

Lewis's comment caught you off guard and it must have been the case for Tyrone as well because you could feel his eyes on you. Not bothering to reply you smiled and simply shrugged.

The conversation continued with you having no way to escape. You'd often thought about the first time you spoke after the way things ended and you'd done your best to convince yourself that you were long past it and him. You were certain that you would be able to talk to him without feeling a thing.

Two and a half years had passed, but that was not the case. Being near him now made every injury you had thrice worse. The pain medication had taken 95 percent of the pain but the 5 that remained was persistent. Your body ached worse being in front of him and that one touch triggered some innate response.

So, not only were you trying to keep a brave face on so no one knew the extent of your injuries, but you were also trying to pretend like seeing Lewis again up close wasn’t affecting you. You had to pretend you'd never known what it felt like to intimately touch his flesh, or press your lips to his, or have him deep inside of you. You had to pretend like you hadn't fallen in love with an emotionally unavailable man who’d shown what he thought your worth was by letting you walk away. You had to pretend like you hadn’t made a complete fool of yourself in front of him and that he hadn't seen you at your most vulnerable and turned way.

When Tyrone came up with an excuse to get to the table, you were thankful. Visibly weaker, Tyrone held tightly to you as he led you away and as you walked away you could feel Lewis' eyes boring holes into your back. Tyrone sat you in your seat then pointed out his seat at the next table then kissed your cheek before he went to his seat.

With a little time to yourself you recalled what the man with Lewis had said.

“…Lewis has not been able to stop gushing about your skill and how coolly you handled yourself.”

How did he know how you handled yourself? You were sure that commercials would have been on during the chaos after the tackle. The only way for him to know that was if he was in the stadium. The realization hit you so hard that another strong stab of pain surged through you making you squeeze the edge of the table.

With white spots dancing behind your eyes, you counted through it and focused on keeping your breathing leveled as you tried to push any other thoughts out. When the pain subsided, you looked up and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Barely making it halfway around the room, you locked eyes with Lewis who was seated so close but so far. Story of your entire entanglement you thought to yourself. From where you sat it was easy to mistake the intense look in his eyes for concern.

Scoffing to yourself, you shrugged the thought off, deeming it ridiculous. You wouldn’t fall for that twice. Straightening your back, you played it off and finished the glass of champagne before you in one rise to your head.

The dinner progressed with conversation on all topics mainly toasts of congratulations and a plethora of photo ops. If you were feeling better perhaps you would have enjoyed yourself more but after 2 hours you were so ready to leave. Your decline had been steady.

Every time your eyes accidentally met Lewis', your heart beat painfully. Each time you had to stand and pose for a picture your hamstring furiously rebelled making you feel its wrath. Every hand you shook you instinctively reached with your right hand which aggravated your shoulder that had become increasingly tighter and tighter as time elapsed. You kept telling yourself to get through to the MVP announcement and then leave but there was too much working against you tonight.

“Everyone, thank you for taking the time to celebrate with us tonight. Here at Arsenal, we consider ourselves a family and as a family, we are always proud of each member. Strong ties, loyalty, and devotion are the principles of Arsenal.”

The room erupted into applause that took several moments to quiet.

“As we do every year we are presenting our MVP selection for this season of very high, highs and few to no lows. This team is filled with valuable players. We've been lucky to recruit the best and those bests have only gotten more and more exceptional. Although I can only give this to one woman tonight I wish I could give it to all of them.”

Again everyone applauded. A few of your teammates patted your shoulder and pointed at you. It only made you more anxious. While this award wasn’t a huge deal, it was a big one. It said a lot within the sport, and it also would open you up to so many more opportunities. Not to mention anyone who got the MVP award was definitely getting a contract extension and with that extension a raise.

“So, without further ado, this woman has really gone above and beyond. She has not only enhanced her skill but has shown every football club why she deserves to be considered one of the brightest rising stars in the sport. Her stats speak for themselves and so do her moves. If you ask anyone on the team not only is she talented but she's humble. Not only a shark but a team player. Not only fierce but kind. So let me introduce this season's MVP. Y/F/N & Y/L/N!”

Shock flooded you and soon disbelief set in. As everyone around you stood and clapped, you remained seated unable to believe your name had been called. Your teammates all released a warrior's war cry as they surrounded you trying to coax you into action.

You hugged them all and smiled at others at your table then hugged Tyrone who was all smiles.

“You deserve it,” he whispered to you before he kissed your cheek.

You then made your way to the stage. You were so happy that your table was close but that happiness was short-lived when you clocked the 4 steps onto the stage. Before you could panic, you saw Lewis approach the side of the steps holding his hand out to you.

Internally, you panicked but externally you were as cool as a cucumber. You'd worked hard to cut yourself off from useless emotions and while his effect still had a relentless hold on you, you could rise above it. So, you did just that –raised above it. You slid your hand into his and ignored the electricity passing through your hand, and the way your belly flipped from the tightness of his hold, and his scent that was so familiar but so different bombarding you, and even the pain in your chest that intensified thanks to his proximity.

Each step up was slow and with each step, he was mindful of not only your dress but also your body. You noticed how he took most of your body weight on the right side as if he knew your hamstring was shredded. He also used a second hand to secure your shoulder which you'd mentioned was dislocated a few hours before so there was no added strain. When you suddenly leaned back thanks to a spasm of pain in your ribs, his arm was there bracing your back holding you in a way that brought memories to the forefront of your mind.

How did he know to do these things? Did he know the specifics of your injuries? How? Had he really been in the stadium?

Lewis walked you to the podium then stepped back so he was in the darkened part of the stage clearly trying to not steal your shine. The room continued and it took a while to quiet down still wanting to clap, cheer and warrior cry to their heart's content.

You felt a rush of pride swell through you. It had paid off. The road here hadn't been easy. You'd pushed yourself to the max and then some, sacrificed a lot, and even went through a time of depression because of everything. Now it all seemed worth it.

Once the room quieted, you gave your acceptance speech thanking everyone by name, mentioning any and everyone who had a part in making this possible today. You didn't leave anyone out and made sure they each knew how grateful you were to and for them.

When you recounted how much work you'd done in the last nearly 3 years, your emotions caught up with you. It was then the memories of you and Lewis came back, memories of the heartbreak, memories of how hard healing was, and how much you struggled to even get out of bed and make it to practice. It was also then another bite of pain hit you, this one worse than all the others. You gripped your chest and hunched over the podium as the microphone feedback rang through the room.

Your vision blurred and all sound disappeared as you struggled to catch a breath. In the blink of an eye, all you saw was light being shut off all around you until only one remained as you felt yourself falling. Rather than the pain of a hard floor, you felt strong arms. Over you, you peered into a blurry face that went in and out of focus but brought with those strong arms, a familiar feeling washed over you. One you'd felt all night. Lewis.

As the last light shuttered, you made out one final word.

“Babygirl.”

~~~~~~~~

Everything ached but also felt numb. It was a strange combination. Fluttering your eyes open you heard loud voices just a breath below a shout.

“I've got it from here. You can go.”

“Excuse you? I'm not going anywhere. You can go. Like what is your purpose here anyway? She doesn't even know you.”

A snort sounded in the room. “Trust she knows me more than she knows you.”

“How? You just met a week and a half ago.”

“Don’t worry about other people's business. Mind yours.”

“She is my business. Look just because you’re Lewis Hamilton doesn’t mean anything here.”

“And who are you mate? Some rookie footballer on a come up?”

Clatter followed then several voices.

“You both need to leave! There is no fighting in here.”

“Take it outside!”

Panic and confusion welled within you, and it only intensified when you realized you couldn’t speak. It was then you realized the long tube over your head. The machines then went insane and seconds later you were surrounded by people. To the back of the huddle, you caught a glimpse of Tyrone and Lewis but in seconds they were gone.

“Calm down, Y/N. It’s all right. You’re safe, and currently admitted to the hospital. You’ve been here for a little over a week and we had to intubate you.”

The more she spoke the more you panicked until you were struggling against them trying to get out of the bed.

“She’s panicking. Sedative.”

That was the last thing you heard before it went black all over again.

~~~~~~~~~

When your eyes opened again the room was bright—too bright. Squinting you groaned but it came out sounding more like a toad’s croak. in seconds you were flanked by the faces of your family.

“Y/N?”

Your mother gently cupped your cheeks as tears streamed down her cheeks. You opened your mouth to reply but nothing came out. You tried again and again but still, there was no sound.

“It’s okay calm down. You were intubated. It’s normal to not be able to talk for a few hours,” your father informed.

Slowly, you calmed yourself but then wondered why you were intubated. Seeing the question in your eyes, your mother responded.

“You had a collapsed lung. You should have gone straight to the hospital so they could treat it but the delay in treatment made it worse. You’re so stubborn.”

You smirked and raised your hand to wipe your mother’s cheek hoping she took it as your apology. She held your hand to her cheek and stared lovingly into your eyes. Soon the doctors came in to check you over to gauge your healing progress. As they examined you, they filled you in on every medical measure that had been taken. They seemed to know the questions you had so as they went they answered them. Thankfully, you’d make a full recovery with time and physical therapy. They didn’t see any reason why your ability to play the sport should be hindered.

An hour later, your teammates all rolled through with flowers, stuffed animals, and get-well banners and cards. They teased you about your dramatic antics with fainting while you had everyone’s attention ensuring you’d be the talk of the town for weeks if not months. You laughed but with every chuckle, your ribs fought you. When they left the doctors ordered no more visits for the day so you could get some needed rest.

You were grateful because you were downright exhausted.

The next day you woke feeling a little more like yourself, especially since you woke up with the raspy version of your voice. While it sounded like you smoked 3 packs a day it was better than nothing. By noon after your first PT appointment for your hamstring, you were in good spirits. That was when Tyrone’s face popped around the threshold holding an embarrassing bouquet of flowers.

“Hey there gorgeous.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. He approached you and then bent to kiss your cheek.

“You must have taken a bicycle kick to the face recently cause you’re blind.”

He chuckled and placed the flowers on your bedside table.

“For you.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than bad, worse than great.”

He nodded then rubbed the back of his neck. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tyrone sat in the chair beside the bed staring at you as if he had so much to say to you.

“What?”

He sighed then leaned forward. “I have feelings for you, Y/N.”

You froze.

“You had to know.”

You remained silent.

“I’ve been debating with myself for months, 8 to be specific on if I should continue pursuing you or move on. I wasn’t sure if it was me you weren’t feeling or if I wasn’t being direct enough so—I have feelings for you. I like you—a lot.”

“I love you, Lewis.”

Your words from three years ago echoed in your head. You saw the scene playing before you again and coupled with Tyrone’s confession you remained frozen in panic. It felt like you were in the same situation again.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes focused on him again and you fought to push the memories away.

“You had to know.”

“I—I didn’t. not really.”

“And now that you know? Do you—do you feel the same?”

The long stretch of your silence must have been answer enough. Tyrone blew a breath out.

“Do you feel anything for me?”

Again you couldn’t speak. Pinching the bridge of your nose you sighed.

“Wow,” Tyrone said.

“Ty, I think you’re great.”

“Aw man.”

“No. Let me finish. You’re great. You’re fun, funny, sweet, kind, giving, chivalrous and so many other things. You’re a good guy and I wish I felt the same way as you. I wish I felt. I just—I can’t.”

“Wish you felt? What does that mean? Were you just toying with me?”

“I never toyed with you and I’m sorry if that’s what you think. I’m—I’m not in any mind frame to reciprocate what you feel.”

He looked genuinely confused and just as you were going to open your mouth to say more there was a knock. Both of you turned around to see Lewis standing there holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. A slew of emotions filled you, annoyance, relief, awe, hope, anger, and something that resembled happiness.

He smiled while keeping his eyes on you.

“Jasmine and Gardenias still your favorite flowers?”

“You know each other?”

“I tried to tell you, mate, now your feelings hurt.”

You watched Tyrone look between you and Lewis a few times each time his eyes got bigger and bigger.

“Wow. Wow, woooow. I see.”

“Ty, it’s not like that.”

He stood and raised his hand. “It’s all right, Y/N. I get it. I’m gonna get out of here. I hope you’re well soon Arsenal needs you.”

You stared at each other and read what he wasn’t saying with words. He was giving you an out, releasing you from any sort of obligation to reciprocate his feelings. You recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same look you had those years ago.

“Thank you, Ty.”

He nodded. “I’ll call you.”

With that he walked to the door and shoulder checked Lewis in an aggressive confrontational move. Lewis scoffed but didn’t retaliate.

“Bye Ty,” Lewis taunted.

When it was just the two of you, you registered the change in the air. Before it was filled with such high testosterone. The testosterone of a man trying to mark his territory and now it only got more pungent. Lewis approached you and with every step he took toward you, you inched backward as if he were poison itself.

Lewis placed his bouquet of flowers down in front of the one Tyrone had just brought and the heady scent of gardenias and jasmine circled you. He’d often brought you them in the past. Why did he remember your favorite flowers? With cautious eyes you watched him sit in the seat.

“How do you feel?”

You almost laughed. You hadn’t expected the first words he’d say directly to you one on one would be these. You didn’t know what you’d expected but this wasn’t it.

“Fine,” you lied.

“With a shredded hamstring, a dislocated shoulder, bruised ribs, a collapsed lung you’re fine?”

There it was. Confirmation.

“Why do you know that?”

Lewis didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared at you for such a long time it made you uncomfortable. When you realized he wasn’t going to answer you looked away.

“Thanks for the flowers, you should go.”

“Why don’t want to see me?”

“Why would I want to see you? There’s no reason for you to be here. We don’t know each other.”

“Oh come on Y/N. We know each other better than most.”

“I disagree, you know 90% of the female population just as well.”

His brow flicked up as his mouth screwed.

“Wait that was 2 years ago. What is it now 95 percent? No? 98?”

Lewis scoffed and shook his head.

“I might deserve that.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not doing this. There really is no reason to. Let’s go back to staying away from each other and ignoring the other’s existence. Please leave.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Lewis began.

“Okay you’ve done that. I’m fine. On the mend will make a full recovery.”

“Y/N—.”

“Thanks for stopping by. Have a good one.”

You turned away from him looking to the left where the entire side was taken up with flowers, cards, and balloons. Lewis sighed, stood then walked to the door. You didn’t know where the anger was coming from. You thought you’d moved past that. Unable to, you looked at his back. Those years ago you didn’t think you were strong enough to watch his back as he got further and further away from you and sitting here now you remembered every feeling you had that night. You also remembered the repercussions of those feelings.

"We shouldn't have ever done this. I shouldn't have done this.”

The tears pricked your eyes, and the overwhelming feeling of loss and heartbreak consumed you. His back for further and further but before he walked through the door he paused. you pressed your palm to your mouth hoping to stifle any sound from passing. After a few moments, Lewis walked out of the room, turning right down the hall before the door closed behind him.

Once alone you waited a few moments before you allowed yourself to cry. Though you tried you couldn’t stop. The tears just kept coming until you were so worked up that your entire body felt as if it were going haywire. Suddenly, you couldn’t control yourself, you couldn’t seal yourself off from all the things you thought you’d dealt with but were now bombarding you.

You grabbed your pillow, buried your face in it and screamed until your throat burned. Then you bawled. Suddenly your door flung open and in walked Lewis.

“You’ve got me fucked up; you walked out. You left!”

You were so far down your spiral that you couldn’t stop your tears. Lewis hurried across the room to you asking a series of questions to gauge what was wrong.

“Don’t—Don’t touch—me!”

Lewis stopped right beside you respecting your wishes. “What’s wrong?”

“G—g—ge—get out!”

“No. Talk to me, Y/N.”

“Get out!”

The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this—not again. He’d seen you fall apart those years ago and you couldn’t do it again. Two nurses rushed in asking questions about what happened but when they didn’t get any response one of them escorted Lewis out as the other tried to console you. However, nothing worked which led them to sending you into the oblivion of darkness yet again.

~~~~~~~~~

-Two Weeks Later-

The moral of the story for you had always been that while love was a pure emotion it was a weakness, and it was a weakness you couldn’t afford. The solution was to block it with everything in you. However, that was no solution at all. You pushing down your feelings, ignoring them, and practically running from the pain only ended up catching up to you. You saw that now.

The last two weeks of recovery were tough. While the pain was manageable with heavy meds you were cooped up in your house with nothing but your head as company. That meant you thought about everything all over again. You had to come to terms with the pain and face everything you’d buried from shame and embarrassment.

When the doorbell rang, you expected it to be food, so you hobbled on your crutches to the door but when you opened it, there stood Lewis.

“No.”

You attempted to slam the door, but he caught it. “Can we talk?”

“No. How did you find out where I lived?”

“Reese.”

Everything clicked then. He had been at the match and Reese was his informant. Sighing, you dipped your head and mumbled a curse.

“Please, Y/N. I think it’s 3 years overdue.”

You scoffed and the urge to smack him with your crutch filled you. He must have seen it before he raised his hands in defeat. For the first time, you saw the two bags he held.

“The unconscionable mix of Thai and sushi still your favorite?”

Just then your belly rumbled giving him the answer.

“You should consider moving, the attendant downstairs let me take your food up just because I was Lewis Hamilton.”

Rolling your eyes, you hobbled away giving him a few seconds to catch the door. If he did he did if not oh well. When you got to the living room you dropped into the seat and elevated your leg with a groan.

“You’re the only person who will eat Thai and sushi together,” Lewis said as he laid out the containers from the bags across your center table.

Slowly, you slid down to the floor then began building a bed for your thigh. Lewis approached and took over stuffing couch pillows under and around your thigh until your leg was properly elevated. Your eyes briefly met but it only lasted a few seconds. Silently, you dug into the containers and focused on piling your plate with food.

“I only bought for me. Your plant-based ass will just have to starve.”

Lewis snorted then chuckled. “It’s all good.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Your answer was short, and voice clipped and it was enough for him to get that you didn’t want to talk. You ate in silence for several minutes but soon you turned on the tv. Lewis reached for the remote and turned it off making you sigh.

“Come on. Haven’t you taken enough? Now you want to take my tv?”

“I’ve taken? Y/N. I’m lost here. You walked out. You left me in that hotel room in Mauritius. You did that.”

“Was I supposed to stay to hear words that were pointless in saying? Was I supposed to stay so you could have the upper hand? Fuck out of here Lewis.”

“The upper hand? Y/N this wasn’t a game.”

“Wasn’t it? From the beginning it was a game, and you know it. The only thing is I was the one who lost.”

“I never--.”

“Stop Lewis. What do you want?”

He groaned, rubbed his forehead as he shook his head. He looked distressed as if you were aggravating him, but he had no right.

“For the last 3 years I’ve carried so many regrets.”

“Same here.”

“Do you regret meeting me? Regret being with me?”

Looking at him you paused your chopsticks in their air. It wasn’t a hard question. You knew the answer. Was it the truth though? Was it your bitterness speaking? You broke eye contact and went back to your food.

Lewis sighed then spoke, “I regret letting you walk out that door. I regret not going after you. I regret not showing up at your place to clarify things. I regret these 3 years apart. I regret staying away. I regret not telling you the truth of matters. I regret—making you cry. I regret hurting you.”

With every bomb dropped your heart pounded louder and louder. Soon it felt like there was a herd of horses in your chest wildin' out. Keeping your eyes planted on your plate, you fought the urge to look at him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the uncertainty and hope in your eyes. You wanted to kick yourself for feeling hope.

“Well what’s done is done,” you tightly said.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I mean?”

“What’s the purpose? The answer holds no authority to me. No one can change the past and talking about it is pointless.”

“Come on Y/N,” Lewis pleaded.

“What Lewis! What! What do you want to talk about? Hm? You wanna talk about how many regrets you have? Fine. Why does it matter?”

Your explosion was from your aggravation. You knew the longer you talked about this the more pain it would cause. So what if after 3 years he was having regrets and now felt like talking. So what if he was trying to appease his conscience so he could sleep better. So what if the consequences of his bad decisions were finally catching up to him.

“It matters because I’m here and I want to make things right. I want to do right by you.”

“After 3 years?”

You laughed manically then. It sounded bitter, hell it tasted bitter.

“Hear me out—please.”

You struggled to stand and grimaced the entire time. Lewis lunged over to assist but you lurched away.

“I can manage.”

Once up, you hobbled to the kitchen on the hunt for one of the bottles of Umeshu that you stored for nights you ate Thai and Sushi. It didn’t take you long to find the gorgeous bottle that had paintings of Japanese cherry blossoms all over it. You grabbed a glass from your overhead cupboard then hobbled back to your seat. Not bothering to build a fort for your leg you filled the cordial glass you had.

“Should you be drinking if you’re on meds?”

You side-eyed him sending every bit of annoyance to him. Nodding, he backed down. Knocking the tart but sweet liquor back, you slurped and hit your hand on the table as it burned your tastebuds.

“Mmm.”

You poured another and repeated your action, then 2 more followed. You moaned again. “Mm, if I hear you out will you leave and drop this?”

Your eyes met.

“If you still want that then yes.”

You poured and knocked back one more glass then slammed it on the table. “All right. Go ahead.”

Lewis slid down to the floor with you then took your glass and poured his own drink and gulped it.

“Thought you gave it up.”

“A bit of liquid courage is needed,” he said before he took another glass full.

Lewis held the bottle with one hand and the glass with the other as the silence filled the room. With the lights dimmed only enough to give the room a very soft glow it felt like an intentional romantic setting. You almost wanted to get up and turn the lights on full glare but the hassle of getting up stopped you and you deemed it best to have whatever conversation he wanted in as little light as possible.

“When we met I wasn’t—a great guy. I had good qualities I know that, and those qualities maybe made it seem like I was a good guy, but I was about 3 things. Racing, having fun, and no attachments. I didn’t want anyone hanging onto me wanting something other than fun, laughs, and sex. It was too much. So I played around and was fully about that life. I didn’t care to keep one woman, the more the better, the more the merrier.”

You snatched your glass back and poured yourself another drink. He felt like being real, real. You drank it down and let him continue.

“I saw you across the club and I instantly thought you were gorgeous. You were the only woman there not showing an excessive amount of skin who looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. I found it—you to be such a conundrum and the longer I watched you, the more I wanted to figure you out. But as I watched you I knew I should have walked away and left you alone, but I couldn’t. I tried; God knows I did.”

He sighed then took the glass and bottle back. You nearly snorted. This was a first between you. You’d never sat and drank together. You’d done so many things together but sat and drank and bared your personal truths were not among them.

“Ah,” he hissed before he continued, “When I said that I knew this wasn’t a good idea even before I touched you, from the second I looked into your eyes I meant I always knew I’d ruin you. I knew I’d break you because apparently, that is what I do with women in my world. That is what my world does to the women around me.”

You glanced at him at that confession. All this time you thought he meant something else, something more against you, but this was against himself.

“You were so innocent, and truth be told I was drawn to that, and it was probably because I liked new things and to claim things, so I did what I knew best though I warred with myself the entire time. Somewhere deep down I didn’t want to ruin you, but I couldn’t stay away. So, things escalated and escalated. Tried as I did to keep you like all the rest, slowly you ended up being like none at all.”

You swirled your finger around the rim of the glass allowing his words to settle. Your entire interaction played in your head. The things you did together outside the bedroom, the fun you had, the conversations, the cuddling, and the soft whispers. Those memories coupled with the Umeshu had you feeling soft. Groaning, you poured another glass. You were still too sober for this.

“You ended up being someone I could talk to about more than superficial shit, someone I could unload my frustrations with the sport, annoyance with my day, someone I could open up to and share pieces of myself. I didn’t even intentionally do it, it all just—happened. it was effortless. All of a sudden I stopped seeing you as this pass time, someone to distract me from everything, someone to sate my desires and have some fun with. I saw you as more.”

As he spoke you recalled when you’d gone through those very same sentiments. It was sudden for you too. So sudden that you didn’t believe it when you recognized it. After all, he was the first man you’d fallen in love with. Even thinking it you felt silly. Lewis Hamilton was your first love. And your first heartbreak, a voice inside your head reminded.

“More and more I wanted to spend time with you, more and more I kept thinking about you, and more and more I found myself breaking my rules and going out of character. The night you—told me how you felt it resonated with me and I knew I couldn’t keep you around me anymore.”

You abandoned the glass and brought the bottle to your head.

“My world isn’t as great as everyone thinks. I knew if you were part of it you’d get eaten, chewed, and spit out. I know how ugly it gets and I wanted to save you from that. I wanted to do whatever I could to not break you. So—I let you go.”

That confession hit you in the face like it were a low hanging tree branch. Looking at him you scrunched your face.

“What?”

You scoffed but that turned to a chuckle then an alcohol-induced guffaw. The irony was too good to not laugh. Long moments passed with you laughing not only at the situation but him and yourself.

“Let me get this straight. You wanted to not break me but ended up doing that very thing?”

Again you laughed.

“Y/N,” Lewis began but you cut him off.

“How completely ridiculous. Did you think ignoring me for years and pretending I didn’t exist wouldn’t break me? Did you think that after I sat there and confessed something so personal something that made me the most vaulnerable I’ve ever been in my life only to have it be met with horror and annoyance wouldn’t break me? Did you think that after I’d fallen in love for the first time, with the world’s most unavailable man, to have that man shoot me down wouldn’t break me?”

You laughed some more as you took another swig from the plum wine bottle.

“I’m sorry,” Lewis whispered. “I made a mistake. I fucked up.”

You rolled your eyes then took another mouthful ignoring the burn on your tongue and the puckering of your glands.

“I should have gone after you. I wanted to but I couldn’t--I. I wanted to tell you--,” Lewis sighed again.

You’d never seen him like this before. He always knew the right thing to say. He always said the right thing. Lewis Hamilton was eloquent and thought quickly on his feet and gave no evidence that he’d made something up on the fly. When he spoke he always held people captivated. The man sitting adjacent to you was not that man.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

You scoffed again. There was a time when you thought hearing him apologize was what you wanted. You thought hearing those words would make you feel better but hearing them now and seeing the condition of him across from you didn’t feel any better.

“I thought I wanted your sorries, that I deserved them for how you made me feel but now—it doesn’t matter. You got your freedom that night, your days, nights, weeks, months, years. You got freedom and peace, but I got trapped and tormented. You were okay all these years. You went on with your life, went on with your conquests and party lifestyle. You went on and had great days, you slept well. I didn’t get that. I didn’t get my days or nights, or weeks or months, all this time I was trapped in this loop of heartache and shame. My world stopped and yours spun on. I wasn’t okay, I didn’t have great days or slept well, I’ve had trouble sleeping for 3 years,” you absentmindly listed.

You sighed then shook your head, “When a heart breaks it’s never an even break. You got the better end.”

You raised the bottle to your head again and managed two gulps before Lewis pulled it from you and took a few gulps of his own.

“You have no idea how wrong you are. I got freedom? Ha! I got peace? I wish! You’ve haunted me for every single day of the last 3 years. Your face, your smile, Christ almighty your smile, your voice, your touch, your scent, your laugh. Fuckin’ “ell!”

Lewis grabbed his head then slid closer to you. In your head, you moved back but in reality, you remained where you were.

“I was not okay. Yeah to everyone looking in I looked fine but what was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to go out looking how I felt inside? Was I supposed to look like I was on death’s door as I felt?”

“Yes!”

Your words slammed against all the walls in the living room giving him the first definite indication of the rage you felt deep down.

“Yes! Yes, you were supposed to do all of that. You didn’t and made me feel so small, so insignificant in your life, like the last year we’d spent together truly meant nothing at all. You moved on within 2 weeks. 2 weeks! Had me feeling like I deserved that shit, like it was my fault that I couldn’t stay in the fucked-up parameters we’d established.”

“I never said it meant nothing that you meant nothing, Y/N.”

“You never said anything. Your actions did it all. Your actions. This is just about hooking up Y/N, then you look at me so deeply so intensely that you steal my breath. I can only give you this, Y/N, then you cuddle with me for hours whispering how sweet and amazing I am. What the fuck Lewis! You played with me like a toy then had the nerve to be horrified.”

“I love you!”

Everything stopped then. Time, light, space, the universe, your heart. Everything. You snapped your head to him. His eyes were already on you, those dewy pots of melted molasses that promised so much more than forever, the eyes that looked so tortured now.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you since you showed up at my house drunk out of your mind ready to dance for me. The night you gave the worst striptease in the world, the night I saw the goofy, hidden seductress you keep buried. The night you allowed yourself to be completely out of your box and just be. I fell in love with you that night, I fell so hard that I didn’t bother using a condom that night. I fell so completely that I risked it all and left it up to whatever powers that be. I let go of control that night and fell in love with you.”

Your eyes were wider than saucers at that confession. There was no way that was true. He’s lying, you kept telling yourself.

“Bullshit.”

“Hand to God. The night you told me how you felt I wanted to risk it all again, I wanted to tell you how I felt, I wanted to make every promise under the sun to you and vow you’d have me completely and openly. I wanted so fucking much that night and I almost took it all, but I couldn’t. I was—scared. I didn’t know how any of it had happened, I didn’t expect it and I sure as hell didn’t know how to accept it. I was scared I’d ruin you, scared my life, my world would ruin you, and have you hate me in the end like it had to others.”

You stared into his eyes reading him, trying to gauge the level of truth in his words. You hated that more than half of you wanted to believe him, hated that you wanted to throw everything away and wrap yourself into him and those 3 words. Tearing your eyes from his, you looked down at the bottle. A heavy tear rolled down your cheek and that was how the floodgates opened.

You sobbed silently at first then let it all out. As you cried not only did the tears fall freely, but so did all the emotions you’d bottled up. You cried your anger, fears, shame, and pain out. You couldn’t hold it anymore. It was all too much.

“I can—can—can’t do this anymore. It’s too much!”

“I’m sorry. I tried to stay away from you. I tried to keep my distance, but it’s been impossible. My heart wants you; I want you. I need you in my life, Y/N. I need to be able to look into your eyes every morning, I need to hear your voice beside me, I need to feel your skin against mine, I need to hold you close, I need to love you.”

When you felt his hand on yours you wailed louder. Everything you’d wanted to hear you’d heard tonight. Everything you’d wanted to see, you saw tonight. You’d gotten it all and you didn’t know what to do next.

“Do you still love me, Y/N?”

What a stupid question you thought but you shook your head. “I can’t.”

“Y/N--,” Lewis croaked.

“Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed,” Lewis countered pulling you into him so there was barely any space between your bodies. “Everything has changed.”

You scrunched your face and tried to push him away, but he relented.

“3 years too late.”

“I don’t believe that. You don’t either. You can’t. This entire time I can feel the struggle in you, I can hear it and see it. You don’t mean that.”

“Lewis--.”

“It’s never too late. I’m here. I know I was wrong; I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you and I have to put the work in for your forgiveness and to show you that you can trust me. I can do that. I want to. Your world stopped that night but mine didn’t spin on, it stopped too. All these years I’ve been trapped in this loop of regret and self-hatred, all because I wasn’t strong enough—brave enough.”

With every word, you found yourself allowing him closer and closer despite your head warring within you. It was telling you to run. When Lewis tilted your chin up your eyes met and that’s where they remained.

“Do you love me?”

More tears welled in your eyes just as you shook your head.

“You’re lying. I can see it.”

You pulled away from him and it felt like forcing superglued skin apart. When you’d managed to create some space between you, you groaned from the pain that his absence brought. Not again, you thought.

“You have to leave. Go.”

“Y/N.”

“I told you I’d let you explain, and I did, and you said you’d leave when you were done if I still wanted it.”

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes.”

Silence stretched between you again. The pain on Lewis’ face was clear but you steeled your heart that somehow had turned to melted ice.

“Please, Y/N. Don’t do this. Put me out of my misery, put yourself out of this misery.”

He held out his hand to you. “Take my hand. Take my hand and show me the way to fix this. Let me back into your arms, into your life--in your heart.”

Ooof, you thought just before you rubbed your chest. He’d found his stride; his eloquence was returning, and you would never survive it.

“Lewis--.”

You stared at his hand and what was keeping you from taking it was fear. He’d broken you before, he could easily do it again. Holding that fear you knew it would only lead you to more misery. You knew fear would never make you happy. You also know you still loved him as much as you ever did. You’d never stopped. But was it enough? Could you be happy together?

His eyes said yes, your bruised heart said yes, your head said no. Your gut and instincts had left the group chat.

Heart or head, Y/N?

~~~~~~~~~~

-Two Years Later-

“Y/N. Y/N, Y/N!”

You jogged across the field to the reporter waving your down from the middle of the field while accepting pats on the back from those you passed.

“There she is. The woman of the game. The reason Arsenal brought home another title. How does it feel?”

Your smile was wide. “It feels—incredible. I’m really happy we could pull this off. Of course it’s all thanks to these women who have my back and are so incredibly skilled.”

“Of course. What a welcome back season. Arsenal’s WFC has become the most enviable WFC thanks to the relationship you all have with one another.”

“These are my besties. We really do like each other and spend so much time together. It makes working seem like play every day.”

“So you took a year off to get yourself back into beast shape but that didn’t stop these women from bringing home the title. And We had the same results 2 years ago but under different circumstances. You stand here today without injury.”

You chuckled. “Thank God. That wasn’t fun at all.”

“You worked really hard to come back from your hamstring injury and that collapsed lung. Would you say you’re in the same shape as you were two years ago?”

“No. Absolutely not. I feel like I’m in better shape this year than last year and definitely than the last before. I’ve gone through a lot of changes within that time physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually everything, and I think it all compounded to make such a profound difference.”

“Yes, you have gone through many changes, mainly a status change. You’re no longer Y/F/N & Y/L/N. You’re now Y/F/N & Y/L/N Hamilton. Or what everyone in the club likes to tease you with, Lady Hamilton.”

You snorted and shook your head. “They sure do love to tease me.”

“Would you credit your new marriage and new husband with helping you get into what you call the best shape?”

“Umm, yeah. With every life change, there will be changes that ricochet from it and everything has been positive. A better mental and emotional state helps with a clearer mind and heart which allows you to put in the work where needed.”

“So Lewis has been helping you?”

“Absolutely. I get in the training with the team, and he helps when we’re home we do jogs, we work out in the gym. He’s been great.”

“Is he here now?”

“He’s here somewhere.”

Just then you felt arms wrap around your midsection and you couldn’t help but smile widely.

“There he is.”

Lewis peppered kisses behind your ear and along your jaw clearly ignoring the sweaty mess you currently were. He released you then turned you to him and lifted you into his arms.

“Congratulations, princess.”

“Thank you.”

His hands splayed across your ass holding you there as he spun. Before he put you down he pressed his lips to yours once, twice then a third time before he dipped his tongue into your mouth to swirl around yours.

“Mmm.”

“Eh-Em.”

You pulled from him and hid your face as the women behind you let out a warrior cry in response to your nearly NC-17 display.

“Sorry,” you said.

“I’m not. She’s my wife, I’ll kiss her whenever I want.”

The reporter giggled. “No complaints here. Tell us Lewis how proud of your wife are you?”

“So incredibly proud. She worked hard for this; they all did. I am proud of all of them.”

“Congratulations on the wedding by the way.”

“Thank you. We’re very happy,” he replied.

“Very!”

“Ever since it was revealed you were engaged everyone had one thing they kept repeating, that your kids would be sports legends with both of your genes. Any comment?”

Lewis chuckled then shrugged. “Love?”

“Guess we’ll have to wait the 7 months to find out.”

Lewis’ eyes bugged then he turned you to him. “What!?”

You smiled wide and nodded.

“You’re messing with me.”

“No.”

“Y/N. Are you serious? You’re--.”

You nodded and within seconds Lewis had you in his arms spinning around.

“Oh my god. Wow!”

Lewis laughed and walked away carrying you away from anyone who wanted a moment of your time. He couldn’t care less that the interviews were part of your job.

“For real, for real?”

“Yes. I was going to tell you tonight,” you said.

Lewis cupped your cheeks and peered so deeply into your eyes that you could feel his love in your soul.

“I love you so fucking much.”

“You better remember those words when I’ve gained 50 pounds, a double chin, a humongous ass, canckles, and an insatiable sex drive because of you and your spawn.”

Lewis snorted then pulled you closer. “50 pounds, double chin, gigantic ass, and canckles doesn’t matter you will always be the most beautiful woman I see. Hands down.”

“Oh sweet talker.

“As for that insatiable sex drive…I think I am more than capable of helping out with that.”

His smirk was filled with mischief. You shook your head.

“Babes I think that’s how we ended up here, your helping out.”

The two of you laughed as he hugged you again. Lewis’ lips pressed along your neck before he began nipping at your skin.

“You’re not so innocent anymore, huh.”

“You tell me, Sir Hamilton.”

Again he smirked before bringing his lips back to your neck. You felt his hands slide down the small of your back to your ass just before he squeezed it.

“Naw, Lady Hamilton is a pro at taking this dick.”

A soft moan escaped you before you brought his hands from your ass to his side. You tipped onto your toes and went to his ear.

“And Lady Hamilton will take all that dick and then some tonight.”

You kissed his ear then jogged off. When you’d made it a few feet away you turned back to him and blew him a kiss. Lewis smiled wide and winked at you. That one simple act turned your insides into molten lava. You made your way back to your teammates completely pumped to get through all the interviews so you could go home to your man, your first love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#love will remember one shot #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton blurb

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serial-serializednovelreader · 4 months ago

Text

Nova's Notes - North and South - Chapter 3

Last time we saw our heroine Margaret, she had just received word that Henry Lennox had come to call on her. Let's see how it goes!

So, she is excited to see Henry, as she has just been thinking about him and his promise. Margaret is a little surprised though, since he's supposed to be off with Edith and his brother on their honeymoon.

*record scratch* Hold up, he was accompanying them on their honeymoon??? I know right! And not just him, but his uncle as well? What kind of monster is he?

Well, five seconds ago, I would've agreed with you, but I was able to find this article that points to this being a fairly common practice in order to ease the woman into the marriage (not exactly an academic source, but the first one I found). So, he's not intruding or third-wheeling, but instead helping grow the marriage. What a nice guy, right? Well...avid readers of this will know I'm not Henry's biggest fan, and in the first few sentences he -- again -- says something that raises my hackles a bit.

“'Oh!' said he, more lightly, 'our young couple were playing such foolish pranks, running all sorts of risks, climbing this mountain, sailing on that lake, that I really thought they needed a Mentor to take care of them. And indeed they did: they were quite beyond my uncle’s management, and kept the old gentleman in a panic for sixteen hours out of the twenty-four. Indeed, when I once saw how unfit they were to be trusted alone, I thought it my duty not to leave them till I had seen them safely embarked at Plymouth.'”

Oh no, our couple has done the horrible problem of -- *checks notes* -- having fun on their honeymoon...? If their version of a "prank" is ditching their relatives to get some alone time -- uh, yeah, I would too!!! I mean, I guess I can see where he's coming from on some of these points if they truly are taking dangerous risks, but it honestly sounds like they're trying to sneak in some alone time here and doing fun couple activities together. It's not good that the uncle is panicking, but his brother is in the army. Surely he's prepared for things like mountain climbing and saying they're "unfit to be alone" is quite ridiculous. If he's worried about them doing...other kinds of activities while alone...I hate to tell him, but they're already married so that ship has sailed (literally). If he's truly worried about "danger," how is he -- a lawyer -- more prepared to face it than his brother who's in the army? (Not that lawyers can't face danger, considering Jonathan from Dracula is a lawyer and he just climbed a castle wall not too long ago, but that's a different book/genre lol). Also presenting himself as a "Mentor" (capital M) is HILARIOUS to me considering a) he's younger than at least one of them and b) mentor to what? Being married??? Henry???? He probably means climbing or sailing, but my version is funnier -- just saying.

I guess he might also be kidding about some of this, which is something I should have considered but didn't because I don't pick up well on social cues (I'm like Margaret in that way: we'll get there :D). So if he is kidding, sorry about that, but if I'm to take what he's saying at face value here, he just sounds like a nuisance to the couple. He says he's now "relieved of many responsibilities" but it just sounds like he put those responsibilities on himself.

He then gives her a note from Edith and she doesn't want to read it in front of him because she "half wish[ed] to read it alone and unwatched". I find this interesting that she has to make up an excuse to get away from him here, just to do so! Is it because Margaret doesn't feel comfortable reading letters in front of people in general, or because Henry specifically causes the discomfort? Gaskell doesn't elaborate, but I'll keep an eye out for if she feels comfortable enough to read a letter in front of anyone else in a future chapter, because either could be valid.

Henry begins to look around the room in "his scrutinizing way" and notices how "poor" the place looks, even when the light is hitting it, which should make it looks its best. Then he says this (with a sigh):

"'The living is evidently as small as she said. It seems strange, for the Beresfords belong to a good family.'”

Oh, no! You've just activated a red flag!!! This whole reply is a red flag, but I want to highlight the main problem area (in my opinion) -- the "as she said". What's the problem with this?

To me, this indicates he didn't listen to her when she told him how small her living was the first time around. He assumed she was downplaying it and would come back to find something more like Harley Street. I suppose that was the fashion back then -- to act of more humble means than you were -- but here's the thing: Margaret isn't like that. She says thing as they are and if he knew her as well as he thinks, he would've taken her words at face value. I know that just from three chapters of reading about her!! If he doesn't believe this one thing she says now, how is that going to work later if they foster a relationship (again, we're getting there)? I also just don't like that Henry is pulling a surprised Pikachu face here!!! And while I know good family = wealthy in this time period, still not a great thing to say. Like, hmm her family is poor that's weird :/. He's acting like he didn't get what he wanted for Christmas or something. Definitely not the reaction I would want from a potential partner.

Margaret, meanwhile, is dealing with a problemTM. Namely, her mother. Apparently she gets into moods where everything is an Issue and Henry is considered an Issue -- so, she refuses to see him. This is a dilemma, because Margaret had told Henry that her mamma would LOVE to meet him and will meet with him shortly. I may not know much about etiquette, but I know this is a snub if she refuses to meet with him now. Plus, her dad can't help because he was already in a bad mood (seems like something we'll unravel later) and Mrs. Hale made it worse by commenting *once again* on moving, which caused him to ask her to please stop speaking against the place. So yeah, this isn't going well!

Margaret "listen[s] patiently", but she has to figure things out somehow, so she pulls a problem-solving move. She proposes that after a quick meetup with Henry and her mom (as for it not to look weird), she and Henry can go out sketching, which will mean less interaction for her mother to worry about. Then, even though they only have cold meat for lunch, they can still make that work for the meal, since light food was usually expected at the midday meal (from what I could find -- correct me if I'm wrong) and Henry will expect it that way. That's when Mr. Hale will join them, having had enough time between 10:30 and 2:00 to compose himself.

I love seeing this side of her! We've already seen glimpses, but I think it's the first time we've truly seen her go into what I would call a "problem-solving mode". I would definitely add that to her list of qualities!

"He evidently expected to be asked to spend the day, and accepted the invitation with a glad readiness that made Mrs. Hale wish she could add something to the cold beef. He was pleased with everything; delighted with Margaret’s idea of going out sketching together; would not have Mr. Hale disturbed for the world, with the prospect of so soon meeting him at dinner."

I wonder if it's apparent to everyone involved Henry wants to be asked to stay the whole day, or if it's just Mrs. Hale? It makes sense that he wants to since he said he would be checking up on what Margaret does all day. I don't know much about calling hours or social etiquette in the Victorian era, but from what I could find, he's making a "morning call". Usually a man in this situation should leave after 20 minutes. However, he's family, so I believe this allots for staying a few hours, including dinner (again, correct me if I'm wrong -- I tried to find sources for this, but there wasn't much available for a morning call from family). Does it seem interesting how eager it is how "pleased" he is by everything just after he thought about how poor the family is? Yep! But we don't have time to unpack all of that just yet.

"'Now, please, just stop here for a minute or two,' said Margaret. 'These are the cottages that haunted me so during the rainy fortnight, reproaching me for not having sketched them.' 'Before they tumbled down and were no more seen. Truly, if they are to be sketched—and they are very picturesque—we had better not put it off till next year. But where shall we sit?' 'Oh! You might have come straight from chambers in the Temple, instead of having been two months in the Highlands! Look at this beautiful trunk of a tree, which the woodcutters have left just in the right place for the light. I will put my plaid over it, and it will be a regular forest throne.' 'With your feet in that puddle for a regal footstool! Stay, I will move, and then you can come nearer this way. Who lives in these cottages?'”

I feel like this conversation parallels their awkward interaction from chapter one, though now the shoe is on the other foot. And by "shoe", I mean the whole "shutting down the conversation" thing. To be fair, this is probably Henry joking and being lighthearted, but again -- I'm having trouble reading it that way. She's trying to sketch two cottages that she thinks are pretty, but he's kind of mocking them for how decrepit they look. Fair, I guess, but the fact that she chooses to mock him by saying he's "come staight from chambers in the Temple" (which I believe is a reference to the Temple in Jerusalem and to me, signals she's mocking his loftiness) says she's not entirely happy with this either. Plus, yeah, he just spent time in the Highlands, shouldn't he be used to forest by now? And when she wants to make a "throne" out of a tree stump, he comments on the puddle on the ground. Chivalrous to ask her to get out of the way, but he's not playing along with her game of pretend like he seemed to want her to in chapter 1. I wonder what's up with that? Or maybe I'm reading this all wrong and they're both enjoying this banter -- I don't know, it's really hard for me to tell!! Keep in mind, I'm biased and don't really like Henry, so everything he says annoys me. It's a problem I'll try to work on 😂😂

She goes to talk to one of the men at the cottages, and Henry quickly takes his opportunity to add her to his sketch. Afterwards, she notices and comments on it. He replies:

“'It was irresistible. You can’t know how strong a temptation it was. I hardly dare tell you how much I shall like this sketch.' He was not quite sure whether she heard this latter sentence before she went to the brook to wash her palette. She came back rather flushed, but looking perfectly innocent and unconscious. He was glad of it, for the speech had slipped from him unawares—a rare thing in the case of a man who premeditated his actions so much as Henry Lennox."

I will admit, this is rather cute: him taking the opportunity to sketch her and then saying something without thought! It's a sweet moment and I think I would like the two of them together if they had more moments like this.

When they return back, both Mr. and Mrs. Hale are in much better spirits. Margaret sees her father and while she stresses that he's put aside his worries (they're not taken care of), she can't hide her pride at seeing him because he's always able to impress other people! What a sweetheart, love her for that.

Mr. Hale sees their sketches and when Mr. Hale sees the one Henry drew, Henry comments this:

“'I should say that a likeness you very much wish to take you would always succeed in,' said Mr. Lennox. 'I have great faith in the power of will. I think myself I have succeeded pretty well in yours.'”

I may not read social cues well, but this one I do get: I like you and want to draw you well. However, I know that because I've picked up on it after seeing Henry's inner thoughts. I'm not so surprised she doesn't get it because, as we'll see later in the chapter, she doesn't see him that way. So this compliment -- while nice -- wouldn't mean to her what he's trying to communicate. Why is this important for me to emphasize? Well, listen to what this guy says next:

“"A regular London girl would understand the implied meaning of that speech,' thought Mr. Lennox. 'She would be up to looking through every speech that a young man made her for the arrière-pensée of a compliment. But I don’t believe Margaret,'"

Lol, lmao even. HENRY, buddy, we've been over this -- you should know her better than this by now. I'm not trying to pull a "she's not like other girls" thing, but you started it. She doesn't have the same communication style as the "regular London girl[s]" you're thinking of! If you want to communicate something, you're going to have to be more blunt.

Also, if we continue with my thread of Margaret being neurodivergent-coded (and Henry being neurotypical-coded), this comment is something a lot of NTs often get frustrated by: that NDs don't pick up on the nuances of their interactions. This comment right here really cements this dynamic for me.

To me, it’s understandable she wouldn't pick up on this being flirting because it's subtle to begin with and ND people often have trouble picking up on social cues like this. I do find it interesting how he also expects her to be picking apart his speeches for compliments. Also "arrière-pensée" means "a concealed thought" or "ulterior motive", by the way!

Quick note: the quote is cut off deliberately like that for a reason, he doesn't finish his thought.

Luckily (or unluckily, depending on your view), he decides to try a different tactic. She has been gathering roses to "adorn her morning gown for dinner" and he takes this opportunity to help her with some she can't reach (relatable!) and puts a couple in his button-hole. While this isn't exactly a declaration of love, I do think this is another sweet moment. This could almost be a better show of affection than words for some.

Dinner is a very nice affair, with everyone talking very agreeably, enough so to make Henry forget his feeling of "disappointment" of Margaret's living being so small. Like she had told him. Ugh.

However, there comes a bit of a hitch when dessert comes around. Mr. Hale becomes fixated on the idea of dessert -- which must be pears from the garden. However, they already have dessert served behind him: biscuits with marmalade. Mrs. Hale worries that this pear idea will make their life seem "impromptu" and dessert "unusual" (which will not shine a good light on their living situation, I imagine).

Henry actually steps up with a solution this time: they should eat pears in the garden in order to give them the full experience. Though Mrs. Hale doesn't quite like this idea (she wants to end dinner the ceremonious way), Mr. Hale doesn't give her time to argue: he simply gets up. This shows me that Mr. Hale is probably still not in the best of moods, and likely put out with her as well for what she said in the morning. Either that, or he's so absorbed by his own worries that he isn't thinking of hers. Eep, not good.

So Mr. Hale, Henry and Margaret go out into the garden to enjoy some pears. While Mr. Hale grabs the ripest pear (to get over his anxieties -- relatable), Henry makes eyes at Margaret 👁️👁️. He then takes her to stroll while Mr. Hale sits on the garden bench. Oh no! What can this mean? Well, for Margaret, she just thinks this is a friendly chat. Hmm....

He immediately starts by idealizing her country life and scorning his "city life" (comparing himself to a Cockney), ending with insinuating he would want to live here as his "reward" for all of his hard lawyer work.

She replies by shutting down the fantasy (lol), that the beauty he sees isn't always there and besides, didn't he mock her village before and call it out of a tale? Once she makes it clear she saw it as disrespectful, he "warmly" states he'll never do it again.

I do like that she's comfortable enough with him to feel able to tell him she felt disrespected by his words: that's a good sign, at least. And while he doesn't exactly apologize, he does back down once he realizes this was genuinely negative to her. Gotta take our wins where we can!

""I could almost wish, Margaret——' he stopped and hesitated. It was so unusual for the fluent lawyer to hesitate that Margaret looked up at him, in a little state of questioning wonder; but in an instant—from what about him she could not tell—she wished herself back with her mother—her father—anywhere away from him, for she was sure he was going to say something to which she should not know what to reply. In another moment the strong pride that was in her came to conquer her sudden agitation, which she hoped he had not perceived. Of course she could answer, and answer the right thing; and it was poor and despicable of her to shrink from hearing any speech, as if she had not power to put an end to it with her high maidenly dignity."

I love this passage for so many reasons. For one thing, it has that relatable feeling one gets when you have that one guy friend who hits you with the "I have to tell you something..." and even when you don't know what they're going to say, you also know what's happening...

But I love that she has that scared moment and then she's like -- wait a minute? This is me -- Margaret Hale -- we're talking about and I will say what I want and it will be right because I make it so. I will not shrink from any speech coming my way and if I have to, will put an end to it with my high 👏 maidenly 👏 dignity 👏 . What an ABSOLUTE QUEEN FOR THAT!!!!! I aspire to be like her; why wasn't I told what an absolute girl boss of a role model this fictional character was? And I don't just mean like before I read this (I was given some notice), I mean like why isn't she given more love in pop culture just for this passage alone? (I could speculate why, but I don't want to get sad about that lol). If I didn't already love her, this right here would've made me love her. This passage is definitely something I will be remembering when I feel anxious about difficult conversations! Just, WOW, chef's kiss.

Forgive me, it's going to be a lot of passages from here on out, but I really want to analyze the exact wording here.

"'Margaret,' said he, taking her by surprise, and getting sudden possession of her hand, so that she was forced to stand still and listen, despising herself for the fluttering at her heart all the time; 'Margaret, I wish you did not like Helstone so much—did not seem so perfectly calm and happy here. I have been hoping for these three months past to find you regretting London—and London friends, a little—enough to make you listen more kindly' (for she was quietly, but firmly, striving to extricate her hand from his grasp) 'to one who has not much to offer, it is true—nothing but prospects in the future—but who does love you, Margaret, almost in spite of himself. Margaret, have I startled you too much? Speak!' For he saw her lips quivering almost as if she were going to cry."

Okaaaaaay, that escalated VERY quickly -- Margaret didn't even get time to put a stop to it!!! I can't blame her, he's not giving her the chance to speak. So, the fact that he grabs her hand so she's "forced to stand still and listen"? Yikes. Her heart is "fluttering" and she hates herself for it? Also yikes because I doubt it's fluttering from liking him. I could be wrong, but I'm like 99.9% sure her heart is like that out of nerves.

Not to mention his speech: Henry starts off by being upset she likes Helstone and seems happy there -- you know, the place where her parents are??? Her hometown???? The place he just yapped on and on about being the best place ever and seemed like a reward to him? What happened to that? Swift 180 turn to me. Oh, and let's not forget he doesn't like seeing her calm and happy -- uhhhh...ok?

Now I know what he's trying to say here: he doesn't like seeing her happy here in Helstone because he wants her to be so miserable that she'll want to come back to London (and be with him). If she's miserable, it'll show she cares for him. Here's the problems I have with that logic:

Who's to say she doesn't miss her friends and she's just hiding it? Some people are better at hiding their grief than others.

Margaret is a very "live in the present" type of person; it's not that she doesn't miss Harley Street, but tends to just kind of live in the moment. Him not realizing that -- or wanting her to be miserable despite knowing that -- shows that he probably doesn't know her or care for her as much as he says he does a couple of sentences later.

She hasn't lived with her parents for years and spent most of her childhood without them being a large part of her life (I'm assuming from the limited text we have). Why doesn't she have the right to be calm and happy while living with them? It's pretty understandable she would be more happy with them because if anything *they're* the ones she was probably "more miserable" without. I'm sure she was fine at Harley Street, but she really seems to love her parents and her first night at Harley Street as a child seemed difficult: I'm not surprised she's happy at Helstone! This guy has some audacity to be like "aren't you miserable without me though 🥺" when like -- SHE'S VISITING HER PARENTS???!!?!?! It's been three months, calm down dude.

Let's imagine a world where Henry's completely right (a world I'm glad we don't live in, personally) and she's totally miserable because -- oh, Henry's not at Helstone 🥺💔. Even so, when you visit your friends/crush/whatever that you've missed and you haven't seen for a while, do you act miserable and talk constantly about how much you miss them? I mean, I don't! I usually try to keep up appearances if I am sad, but I actually almost always brighten up around the person I'm with because they make my day better. I get excited and in my element; to the outside person, you'd never know I'd be totally upset when they left because that's how happy I am! Of course, I'd say I miss them or whatever, but I wouldn't make a scene like he seems to want her to.

Going off of that, if you truly cared for someone, wouldn't you want them to be happy? Like he tells her he loves her but starts off his whole speech before he gets to that point with "I wish you were less happy and more miserable because that means you'd miss me and give me a chance" and that's...I don't even know what to say to that. I didn't think you could get worse than Mr. Collins or Mr. Darcy's failed proposals, but I think that beats it. In Mr. Collins's case, at least he starts off with compliments (though they're backhanded and he doesn't really mean them, lol) and at least with Mr. Darcy, he starts off with "I love you" and lists the reasons before he starts insulting her family!!! I guess it's a "pick your poison" thing, but seriously, what a way to start off a love confession speech/proposal.

Then -- and this is what really gets me here -- he notices her trying to get him to release her arm: another sign she's not enjoying this. Now, she's doing this in a quiet but firm way, not wanting to make a scene -- but not backing down, either. Instead of doing the decent person thing and letting her hand go, he keeps his grip and tells her to listen more "kindly". He takes this as yet another sign she didn't "miss him enough" and WOW. Um...I don't have much to say to this; I think it speaks for itself. I will say, everytime I read it I'm filled with an immeasurable amount of rage, if that tells you anything.

He also ends his very touching and heartfelt speech (/s) with saying that he loves her "almost in spite of himself". Aaaaand we're back to Mr. Darcy with his whole "yeah your family is below me and an insult to the human race and I actually wish I could stop thinking about you but in spite of all of that I love you whoops". I think he means this in more of a "I'm not a feelings person, so for me to be in love with you is a big deal" (we'll get to that speech of his soon), but it still comes across wrong to me. If you're going to say that, please clarify what you mean!!!

And THEN -- as if that's not bad enough -- he sees her lips quivering as if she's going to cry and after asking if she's startled (not the emotion I'd be asking after, but ok), he commands her to speak. As someone who gets overwhelmed easily, I would actually hate someone doing that to me!

And if we continue the thread of Margaret being ND, what if she's not able to speak because she's too overstimulated from whatever the heck that just was? I know she just hyped herself up -- and that's amazing, don't get me wrong -- but it could very well be difficult for her to communicate using spoken language and the fact that he wants her to speak right now is a bit reminiscent of how NTs will often force NDs to "act neurotypical" in difficult situations (e.g. "make eye contact, speak on this" etc.) and it's heartbreaking to read using this lens.

Even if we don't read it in that vein, who sees someone about to cry and goes "Speak!"? Get a grip, man.

"She made a strong effort to be calm; she would not speak till she had succeeded in mastering her voice, and then she said: 'I was startled. I did not know that you cared for me in that way. I have always thought of you as a friend; and, please, I would rather go on thinking of you so. I don’t like to be spoken to as you have been doing. I cannot answer you as you want me to do, and yet I should feel so sorry if I vexed you.'”

I feel for her here: I’m glad she takes a moment to be calm, but I imagine it must cost a lot of emotional effort to do so. If I were in her shoes, I don’t even know if I could manage it!

Also, her speech itself is a masteclass in kind — but firm — rejection, in my opinion. Notice how she answers his last question first: that yes, she was startled. That is easiest to answer, so she focuses on it. Then, she expounds on it by letting him know she wasn’t aware of his deep feelings, which caused her to be startled.

That’s when the boundary-setting starts! She sets two of them: in order to “keep thinking of him as a friend”, he will need to discontinue his advances and then she states she doesn’t like the way he has been speaking to her — aka, all of the ways he just offended her in that last paragraph? Stop it immediately.

She ends it by affirming that she cannot give him the answers he desires, but does not want to “vex” him. Just to be sure I was reading her meaning correctly, I looked up the meaning of vexed:

“to bring trouble, distress, or agitation to”

So, she’s worried about troubling him. Yes, distress is in there too, but I think it’s interesting she uses that word to describe how he will take her not returning his feelings. Historically, women do have to worry about how men will react to them not returning feelings -- sometimes to an extreme degree -- and it can feel as if it’s more of a case of them being troubled/agitated rather than distressed. I can’t speak for everyone of course, but it sucks that women have to feel so responsible for men’s happiness to the point of saying “sorry for the trouble” if the feelings aren’t returned! (And yes, I know this issue can happen regardless of gender, but I’m focusing on this dynamic since that’s how it appears here.)

So, how does Henry react? Does he reassure her that he isn’t entitled to her feelings? Asks for space to deal with his own emotions, perhaps? Nope!

“‘Margaret,’ said he, looking into her eyes, which met his with their open, straight look, expressive of the utmost good faith and reluctance to give pain, ‘Do you’—he was going to say—‘love any one else?’ But it seemed as if this question would be an insult to the pure serenity of those eyes. ‘Forgive me! I have been too abrupt. I am punished. Only let me hope. Give me the poor comfort of telling me you have never seen any one whom you could——‘ Again a pause. He could not end his sentence. Margaret reproached herself acutely as the cause of his distress.’”

It’s interesting to me that Henry decides not to ask if she loves anyone else because he doesn’t want to insult “pure serenity” of her eyes. Some may call this nice, I call this asking for a punch in the face. It rides a bit too close to the “purity culture” line for me and I don’t like it. It seems as if Henry thinks she has too much good faith to ever be “unfaithful” to him by even entertaining the thought of someone else. Perhaps I’m wrong, but this is how it reads to me.

Then he asks for forgiveness and says he’s been too abrupt (ok, good start) but says he’s punished. Punished how? Punished for what? If you mean she’s punishing you for speaking to her a certain way by not returning feelings — just NO. That’s not what’s happening here!!!! She doesn’t return your feelings because she doesn’t like you, just accept it.

That’s when Henry really drops the hammer of “can you give me hope and return my feelings one day 🥺” which — oh, boy. On one hand, I can feel for him here, but it’s strange to me that he also wants her to promise that she’s never seen anyone that has caught her fancy. It’s a very “if I can’t have you, no one can” mentality. It even causes Margaret to get mad at herself for “causing” him to be so upset — which, again, he is not entitled to her feelings and she is not responsible for his happiness.

“‘Ah! if you had but never got this fancy into your head! It was such a pleasure to think of you as a friend.’

‘But I may hope, may I not, Margaret, that some time you will think of me as a lover? Not yet, I see—there is no hurry—but some time——‘

She was silent for a minute or two, trying to discover the truth as it was in her own heart, before replying, then she said:

‘I have never thought of—you, but as a friend. I like to think of you so; but I am sure I could never think of you as anything else. Pray let us both forget that all this” (“disagreeable,” she was going to say, but stopped short) ‘conversation has taken place.’”

Ok, so I’m going to take Henry’s side for just a second on this — hear me out. I think it’s a little mean for her to call his feelings just a “fancy” as if he thought of it one day and, on a lark, decided to confess his feelings. I don’t think that’s fair of her to say to him. You can’t help your feelings and it’s not entirely fair of her to expect him to keep it bottled up inside. While his confession speech has been pretty abysmal (sorry it’s true), I don’t blame him for having those feelings, just the way they’re expressed.

On the other hand, I’ve been in Margaret's exact same situation and have almost wanted to say the exact same thing! Like “we had such a good thing going and this came out of nowhere; what’s up with that?” I didn’t though, because I realize that’s kind of invalidating to hear. I also think that’s her being blunt and not filtering her thoughts, which is understandable given the heightened emotions (and even more so, if we read it in the lens of her being ND).

Henry insists on the point of her being able to love him romantically sometime in the future, to which she has to think about. I’m glad she actually takes the time to examine her own feelings before answering. She already knows the answer, but it’s good to be sure and honestly give it some thought.

That’s when she drops a hammer of her own: she has only thought of him as a friend, does so now, and is certain she can only do so in the future. She also wants to set this conversation behind them — almost calling it disagreeable in the process. She stops herself short, but I believe she makes a face or something in her demeanor registers it as such, because Henry picks up on it. Again, she’s being blunt, but this time she’s able to catch herself and spare his feelings a little.

“He paused before he replied. Then, in his habitual coldness of tone, he answered:

‘Of course, as your feelings are so decided, and as this conversation has been so evidently unpleasant to you, it had better not be remembered. That is all very fine in theory, that plan of forgetting whatever is painful, but it will be somewhat difficult for me, at least, to carry it into execution.’”

It’s telling that he becomes cold once he realizes she’s serious about staying friends forever. It’s sad that this 180 degree turn from Henry is still so relatable in today’s age! He does agree to her wishes, albeit reluctantly due to it being difficult for him. This I can understand; once you confess your feelings for someone and are subsequently rejected, it's a bit hard to just "forget" the entire conversation and go back to normal. Unfortunately, that's the consequence you have to face if you're going to confess to your friend like that; I think he was just so confident she'd return his feelings, he assumed this wouldn't happen.

“'You are vexed,' said she, sadly; “yet how can I help it?' She looked so truly grieved as she said this, that he struggled for a moment with his real disappointment, and then answered more cheerfully, but still with a little hardness in his tone: 'You should make allowances for the mortification, not only of a lover, Margaret, but of a man not given to romance in general—prudent, worldly, as some people call me—who has been carried out of his usual habits by the force of a passion—well, we will say no more of that; but in the one outlet which he has formed for the deeper and better feelings of his nature, he meets with rejection and repulse. I shall have to console myself with scorning my own folly. A struggling barrister to think of matrimony!'”

Her grief does cause him to realize that he needs to stop making her feel bad about this -- or, at least, broadcast a facade of good cheer -- if they're going to have any hope of keeping the friendship. After all, they're still in Helstone's garden with Margaret's dad not too far off!!!

However, he's not able to cover up his "disappointment" entirely and it shows as "hardness in his tone". He doesn't apologize for giving her grief, but instead asks her to make "allowances" for him. I don't like this for a lot of reasons (why does she have to make allowances for you when you don't seem to give the same respect back?), but what's even worse is that he says one of those allowances should be "for the mortification...of a lover..." UM??? If I’m reading this right, he wants her to allow for him feeling like he was her lover and now having to deal with her rejection of romance. Henry, let me break it down for you: you were never her lover -- ever. If you felt like her lover, that is your issue, not hers, to deal with. The fact that you're admitting that aloud is appalling and the fact you want her to allow for that problem is even worse. It’s almost like he kept up a pretense of friendship and all the while imagining they were lovers. That’s so weird!!! And again, remains relatable (unfortunately).

The other allowance, which I mentioned earlier, is that he’s not a big “feelings” person and since he got carried away by his passions, she should understand why he feels crushed that the one time he’s swept off his feet by romance, the feelings are not returned. I hate to tell you, Henry, but just because you’re more “worldly” than the rest of us doesn’t mean you’re going to get a girlfriend faster: just a pro tip!

Both of these allowances are quite silly, in my opinion. Yeah, so you have a crush for the first time and you thought of her as your girlfriend and the feelings weren’t mutual. What is she supposed to do, give you a cookie? I’m being facetious, of course, I know what he’s actually hoping is for her to change her mind and be like “I had no idea I was your first crush 🥺 wow, since I’m so special to you, of course I’ll court you!!! 😍❤️” which — ugh. I want to say he doesn’t understand how women work, but I’m hard-pressed to see how this would work on anyone!! Maybe in his head it would work on one of those “regular London girls” (which I’m beginning to think is just a made up notion in his head of women anyway), but I’ve said that Margaret is not one of those women (if they do exist) and never will be. The fact that he thinks he can make her be one or she will become one in time is concerning: what would he be like if they did court? Would she be expected to change for him? Or even if he does like her as is, would she be expected to “act differently” in front of his friends and other relatives? Again, reading this in a NT/ND lens really adds another layer of meaning to how this would affect Margaret’s mental health in the long term.

He ends this by saying he’ll have to “console himself by scorning his own folly” and scoffing at the idea of a struggling man in his job thinking of marriage. First of all, she has literally said nothing about your profession — you brought that up briefly before in your confession (I didn’t mention it because I didn’t have anything to say on it) — but she never said “I’m not going to court you because you’re a lawyer struggling to make ends meet”. Of course, you’re going to think that because it’s easier to think of her as shallow (only after men for their current money) and the “problem” as something you can fix (he can fix a money issue, can’t fix her thoughts of him being a friend), but really: how in denial can you be?

Secondly, this is the first time he’s brought up marriage. Of course, in the Victorian age that’s where courtships were supposed to lead, but still. It’s interesting that he waited until now to drop that last bit in; it almost seems like a last-ditch lament to be like “woe is me! How could I think anyone would ever marry me 🥺💔” which would pull at the heartstrings. Of course, I’m likely reading too much into this because I’m reading it in the tone of him doing anything to try to get her to court/marry him, even using manipulation and guilt tactics to do so. Is it likely he’s just upset and saying whatever comes to mind? Sure. But some people will do anything to get their way and so far he hasn’t shown himself to be very graceful in dealing with rejection.

“Margaret could not answer this. The whole tone of it annoyed her. It seemed to touch on and call out all the points of difference which had often repelled her in him; while yet he was the pleasantest man, the most sympathising friend, the person of all others who understood her best in Harley Street. She felt a tinge of contempt mingle itself with her pain at having refused him. Her beautiful lip curled in a slight disdain.”

I suppose I’m not the only one getting bad vibes from this last speech. Margaret sees the worst parts of him — the little things that had always bothered her about him — and while she still feels bad about hurting him, she can’t help but visibly show “disdain” for the way he’s talking to her now.

Suddenly, they come upon Mr. Hale and Margaret feels as if she's had an out-of-body experience, comparing it to an Eastern tale of a king who went through an experience of a lifetime just by dipping his head in a magical basin of water. In other words, she is not the same as she was when she last saw her father!

Of course, due to the amount of emotions with everything that has just taken place, she is quite unable to speak and lets Henry and her father do most of the talking. Henry notices her quiet and morose look and:

“"I am not so indifferent to her as she believes,' thought he to himself. 'I do not give up hope."”

Oh...oh no. Henry, literally just accept the no. She told you no -- JUST ACCEPT THE -- ok, I need to calm down. This man is fictional. The problem is there are men -- nay, people -- who think like this. Who will hear a "no" and then see the person's face and have such a cognitive dissonance IN THEIR BRAIN that they're like "nah, they actually totally want me, THEY just can't see the truth yet." As if they know better.

It's really hilarious Henry thinks he knows Margaret's thoughts and feelings better than *she* does considering he doesn't even know how to talk to her without her shutting him down because he accidentally disrespected her small town (rhyme not intended but a pleasant surprise). How does he think a relationship with a foundation like that? I realize they are good friends and get along in other ways, but it is sooooo telling to me that the *second* he flirts, she either becomes uncomfortable or straight up doesn't get it (or pretends not to, depending on how you read it). How could they be married like that??

So yeah, unfortunately, Margaret is not even allowed to look sad without Henry jumping on the chance that she'll want him someday. I'm almost 100% sure this would've happened regardless of the facial expression she had. Happy (from trying to keep up a cheerful facade)? "Oh, she's actually super happy I confessed my feelings and will love me soon, just watch." Mad? "She's actually mad at herself for refusing me." Confused? "She doesn't know what she wants, she'll choose me eventually." That's just the kind of person we're dealing with here.

"Before a quarter of an hour was over, he had fallen into a way of conversing with quiet sarcasm; speaking of life in London and life in the country, as if he were conscious of his second mocking self, and afraid of his own satire."

Ok, so this passage is really hard to decipher for me and I might need some help figuring ot out! From what I'm able to gather, he's mainly mocking both the country and London, but maybe in also a self-depricating way as well (this is the main part I'm stuck on)? What I do understand is why he's doing this; Henry is a man who's default is to mock and be sarcastic. It's his coping mechanism for when things get too "real". We haven't seen him be as such yet because he hasn't needed to be around Margaret. However, now that he's been thrown off by her rejection, his way of dealing with it is to slip back into empty sarcasm.

Mr. Hale notices this change and is quite put off by it, even being relieved when he has to leave. He notes the change from the "lighter, clever, more worldly man" he saw earlier and at the wedding breakfast. It's interesting how a lot of people tend to use sarcasm to seem more clever and worldy, but Gaskell sees through this and contrasts them as opposites in this chapter! What a callout! She's so real for that.

At the last moment, Henry Lennox’s real self broke through the crust. “Margaret, don’t despise me; I have a heart, notwithstanding all this good-for-nothing way of talking. As a proof of it, I believe I love you more than ever—if I do not hate you—for the disdain with which you have listened to me during this last half-hour. Good-bye, Margaret—Margaret!”

First of all, describing the weird sarcasm thing he was doing as a "crust" is funny and interesting to me -- I didn't know that could mean "harsh" or "surly": the more you know! Secondly, love that he calls out his own coping mechanism while still having done it -- progress, I guess? And third -- best of all -- Henry, my guy, my dude, why on earth would you tell her you love her while also saying you might hate her because she hasn't been happy with you for the past 30 minutes???? I am truly baffled. Has this man ever wooed a woman in his life? For the sake of the female population, I truly hope not because if THIS is how he does it -- YIKES!!!! Luckily, he probably hasn't considering his whole "i'M a lAwYeR wHo dOeSnT hAvE bIg rOmAnCe fEeLiNgS" speech.

And that's the way the chapter ends, so I'll end with a couple of points I want to make clear.

I know I've been super hard on Henry and -- to be fair -- I think he's deserved some of it. But I don't think he's a bad person. So far, Gaskell has written all of her characters with a complexity and depth that shows you're supposed to root for these characters (more or less), while also understanding their flaws. There were times I pointed out when Margaret wasn't at her best either; while she isn't entitled to return Henry's feelings, she was sort of trivializing them and I wouldn't like that either. I think the problem with Henry is that he's used to getting what he wants and when he doesn't get it, he gets upset and lashes out the way he did with Margaret. I do honestly think he needs to work on himself and not think of romance right now because it sounds like he has deeper problems going on; if Margaret's rejection causes him to act like this, it's not just her rejection that's bothering him. I noticed that he talked about how he's currently struggling in his job and I think that can also account for him getting upset -- perhaps he had hoped for this to be a "good thing" to focus on instead of his work that isn't going well. I'm glad Margaret didn't return his feelings in that case because having one person the sole source of your happiness is never healthy and running away from your problems won't fix them! So yes, while I'm hard on him I do still think he has good moments and can be better: we're just seeing him at his worst. Still, that doesn't excuse his behavior, just explains it.

I also want to clarify for those who think I'm being too harsh on Henry and am doing so because I "don't understand what it's like to be rejected romantically". As a quick personal aside: I've been on his side of a romantic confession and was also rejected by someone who was my friend. And it hurt -- badly. Especially because there were many "signs" I read too much into as romantic (flirting, holding hands, etc.) so said rejection was not what I saw coming, much like Henry. However, when I realized that this person only saw me as a friend and wanted to keep it that way, I immediately told them "ok, I understand" and then took some time to myself to sort through my feelings. These were mainly embarrasment, shame, sorrow, and anger -- not at the person, but at myself for potentially ruining the friendship over this.

My main problem with Henry is that he reacts to Margaret's rejection with disappointment, anger, frustration, and hurt. These don't seem like the kind of emotions that come with an unselfish love, I hate to say it. I know there is likely more feelings bubbling beneath the surface, but if he's going to react that way and realizes he's hurting her in the process (which he does), he should ask for space while he sorts himself out. I get that wasn't "the thing" back then so I guess it's a bit harder for me to say "oh, Henry should've just left!" when no, he can't just abruptly leave like that and "oh, Henry should just work on his mental health" when that was very much not talked of. I'm just trying to think of ways he could've better handled this situation; he can't help his feelings, but he can help how he acts on those feelings. And it's not fair to Margaret to continually pressure her into a relationship she so obviously does not want. Additionally, the way he makes his confession/proposal frustrates me too because he mainly makes it about himself and his feelings. He wishes she wasn't happy at Helstone, he loves her, he's not a romantic person so it's a big deal for him. I mean, he doesn't even talk about her good qualities or what he likes about her: even Mr. "and what excellent boiled potatoes" Collins did that!!!!!

As a final note, if you're reading Dracula Daily at the same time as North and South Weekly, you may have noticed a few parallels between this failed proposal and Jack Seward's failed proposal. I want to dive into them and why I respect Seward's more than Lennox's, but I don't want to do it here because this post might be my longest to date and I'd rather make it a separate post anyway!

So yeah, another great chapter, excited to see what happens next week!

#sorry this took so long #it was a lot and life got in the way #also sorry if some of this sounds more like a rant #but Henry Lennox brings that out in me I suppose #long post #north and south #north and south weekly #margaret hale #henry lennox #novas notes #cw ableism mention #more implied but tagging in case

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