#why is it giving burn from hamilton

[bluntandsaucy]

“i’m not disappointed in you.”

“aren’t you? can you say that truthfully, with an oath?”

dalinar fell silent.

WHAT THE FUCKKK ADOLIN DADDY ISSUES

[just-some-random-blogger]

You'll Remember You Belong To Me

Loving and leaving Daemon were the two best things you ever did in your life. He disagrees with the latter, however, and is convinced you'll come back.

Mafia!Daemon Targaryen x Estranged!Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, modern au, toxic!Daemon, mom!reader, exes trope, manipulation, typos, etc.

A/N: HI everyone. it's been so long since I've written anything ): I JUST CANT WRITE HUHUH but inspiration struck me so im running with it!! this is inspired by You'll Be Back from Hamilton so I suggest you give it a listen! Also it's kinda fucked up so read dis with care!!!!

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa

"Papa!" a hushed but excited voice calls.

Daemon grins and gets down on one knee. The little boy with burning white hair runs towards his papa's open arms and jumps into them.

Daemon embraces and kisses his son. He then throws him over his shoulder as he stands, making him giggle. The man asks as he head over to the open door, "where's mummy?"

"Cooking with Vivi."

"Oh," Daemon walks inside and takes his shoes off, "do you and Visenya help mummy cook?"

The boy cheers, way too loudly to his father's taste, "YES!"

Daemon immediately hushes the boy and sets him down. The boy is red in the face and giggling. Daemon gives him a lopsided smile and brushes his bangs out of his face, "remember what I told you, lovie? About keepin' a low profile."

The boy nods, "it's our secret mission," he raises a finger to his lips, "a surprise for mummy!"

Daemon chuckles, "very good, Baelon."

Baelon grins from ear to ear.

"Now, before we surprise mummy, tell me where you put the phone I gave you."

"I hid it underneath my toy box! Mummy never looks there."

Daemon pinches his son's cheeks, "good boy."

Baelon giggles under his breath.

"Remember not to let your mother catch you when I call again, okay?"

He nods.

"Right," Daemon stands, "you can go tell mummy daddy's home now."

With that, Baelon runs off and practically busts a lung screaming, "PAPA'S HERE!"

Daemon follows the child, and hears a high pitched squeal from the kitchen. Soon enough, his beloved Visenya is running towards him, "PAAAPPPAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

Daemon scoops up the little girl in his arms and covers her face with kisses, "ah, my baby girl."

He twirls the girl around and after a 360, he is met with a deathly glare. Daemon smirks, "hello, baby girl."

"I am not your baby girl," you snap as you march towards him. You mutter under a groan, "and you're not supposed to be here."

Visenya tightens her arms around her father's neck. At a point, her blonde hair looks like it was Daemon's. He blows a raspberry onto her neck, his eyes on you the entire time, "my place is where my family is."

It takes everything in you not to explode, but you don't; you'd never do that in front of your kids.

Daemon knew that well.

That didn't stop you speaking your mind though, "this is from the man that uprooted our life in King's Landing because of a business plan gone wrong."

That makes Daemon tick. He puts down Visenya, much to her displeasure. The girl claws at Daemon's jeans, wanting to be in the arms of her father again but is ultimately ignored. "You knew what you were getting into when you married me."

"That's why I know better than to let the man I once loved conceal, lie, and cheat on me."

Your words really sink into him when you pick up Visenya when she burst into tears. Of course, she wanted nothing to do with you and so desperately clawed out to him, but the image was really sobering.

At least for a moment.

"Give her to me," Daemon says.

You glare at him and mouth threats laced with curse words.

Baelon runs up to him with a toy bus, "papa, can we play?"

Daemon looks down at his son and smiles. He crouches down, "of course, darling," he looks up at you, "we'll play with Vivi."

Visenya immediately wrangles out of your arms and you have no choice but to set her down.

As much as you wanted to grind his guts, you knew your children loved their dad. They so obviously missed him dearly.

Daemon sprawls belly-down on the floor without hesitation. Visenya and Baelon fall into their usual play mode and you take a deep breath before heading back to the kitchen to finish cooking.

By the time you were finished and calling for them and their joke-of-a-father to come to the table for lunch, you find yourself alone by the dining table waiting for seemingly nothing.

You were about to go get your kids, that is until Daemon walked over.

Your face immediately morphs into distaste. It makes Daemon chuckle, "that bad?"

"Where are my babies?"

"Our babies are napping," he says, pulling a chair back. He sits down and tilts his head, "I'm here though."

You make a disgusted face.

Daemon laughs. He missed your face very much.

You cross your arms, "what did you do to them?"

"You're accusing me of doing something to my children?" he chuckles in disbelief as places a hand on his chest.

"They never need to take naps."

Daemon shrugs, "you don't play with them hard enough."

He realizes his mistake when your face contorts.

"I didn't hurt them," he waves his hands, "I just made them chase each other around until they burned out."

"Good then," you point to the door, "leave."

He narrows his eyes in offence, "I promised I'd be here when they woke up."

You throw your head back in laughter, though you found no amusement in his words, "that wouldn't be the first time you lied."

"I've never lied to Baelon or Visenya."

"You think you deserve a consolation for that?" you snap, turning around to lean on the sink. You wash your hands even though you've just washed them, "I told you I would leave. I told you I would leave you if you kept up your bullshit."

Daemon stands and walks towards you.

You don't look back but you knew he was closing in. You didn't need to look; you could feel him. You knew exactly what he would do because you knew him like the back of your hand.

This was why before he could do anything, you turned away and flicked water into his face.

Daemon stills in his spot, taken off-guard.

You decide to finish cleaning up before you eat.

He wipes his face, "and I told you you'll be back."

You scoff as you tidy the counter, "am I the one crawling back?"

"Is that what you want?" Daemon raises a brow as he walks over.

You still in your spot when he drops to his knees.

"I'll crawl and beg," he whispers as if it was something solemn.

You watch him inch closer and before you have the brain to move, you let out a gasp when he grabs your thigh.

It didn't help that his palms were warm and your skin was cool from wearing shorts and damp from washing dishes. It didn't help that you hadn't been touched for so long and that your skin grew goosebumps.

It didn't help that he had it all figured out.

He kissed your thigh once and the next moment, he had you pressed against the counter, nose to nose, forehead to forehead, nearly lips to lips.

Daemon traps you between his arms, hands gripping the counter on both your sides.

You could smell him so clearly now. It did something to your stomach. Your hands wanted to instinctively reach out to him, but you thanked the gods you knew better than that.

"I'll atone for my sins whichever way you want," he murmurs, "just let me see my kids."

You press your hands on his chest, ready to pull him away, "I know better than to believe you."

Daemon waits for you to push him back. When you don't, he doesn't hide his smile. He grins and takes your hands, kissing them.

Your breath is pulled out of your lungs.

He shakes his head, "you don't have to believe me. You just have to watch me."

It wasn't right, but the feeling of his lips on your skin was too familiar to resist. Daemon kisses your hands, up to your wrists, up to your shoulders, then your lips were trapped between his teeth and you were pulling him in.

The only reason you stopped was because Visenya walked in on you, scratching her eye, asking if she could have help getting a plate of food.

You watch as Daemon smiles at her. You watch as your daughter giggles as her papa gives her a plate and kisses her cheek before telling her he's going to go wake her brother up.

You watch as he carries Baleon and sits him down next to him. You watch him dote on them and it nearly makes you forgive and forget all he's done.

Daemon knows better than to think you'd do anything of the sort.

And even though you sit across from him holding a look of spite, he gives smirks back and prepares you a plate.

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

The itch

An: so I’ve never written for TUA, I think, I haven’t written anything in like a long time cause my brain is made of worms most days, but the new season and mostly five in his new attitude? Personality? His almost soft tired of it all way, gives me the feelings. As a 28 year old women it’s odd that a 68 year old trapped in a 18 year old body works for me like it does but hey, I’ve liked weirder (cough I was in the Hamilton fandom cough) so enjoy this sort of bonding with Lila over the new mundane life and the exhausting reality of having to live it, because I love Lila and hate what they did to her and fives characters with the whole 7 year time line romance. Like why make her a mum of 3 and married to Fives brother just to ruin it like that. But anyway enjoy this weird fic.

Readers power: molecular manipulation, think piper from charmed, overhaul from my hero, uhhh it’s hard to explain but basically it means you can make things explode, freeze people and things by fucking with the molecular structure of said thing.

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You wanted to scream, to smash things, to burn yours and fives apartment down, it had been six years of calm, six years of learning to enjoy ‘normal’. Six years of working at dead end jobs because you didn’t pass the god damn psych evaluation for the CIA, somehow you are far more ‘unhinged’ than your husband.

You and five spent 30 years together, a decade in an apocalyptic wasteland when you ended up teleported there by mistake, and then 20 years at the commission becoming trained and ruthless assassins. Now, now Five worked doing CIA investigations and you got stuck working at a grocery store gas station. It was calm, it was normal, it was absolute hell on earth and made your skin itch.

So sitting in the parking lot of the play place for your nieces 6th birthday, you didn’t know why you couldn’t make yourself leave your car, five was already here, he had texted you as much, everyone else minus Viktor who was in Canada, and Allison who hasn’t shown her face irl to any of her siblings in the 6 years, you just needed to get out of the car and walk in with the gift you signed from both you and five for Gracie. It was a set of toy weapons, knives like her dads old ones, and a few other random ‘play pretend’ things.

Closing your eyes you leaned your head back against the head rest, taking a deep breath. Almost hitting the gas when the passenger side door opened and slammed closed. Turning eyes wide you saw Lila, the exhausted mothers face blank staring forward

“I just needed a minute, just needed” you nodded

“Take all the minutes you need. I assume it’s like pulling teeth in there with Diego?” Lila nodded sighing loudly

“Fives the same way, just on other stuff, like deciding if he wants to go out to dinner or stay in and order pizza, or if he needs new underwear because the ones he has have so many holes in surprised they still count as underwear, or just simple things like the dishes, like how hard is it to wash a cup, it shouldn’t be as hard as it is, how hard is it to just tell me when you need a quiet night cause work was stressful, and you are exhausted from stupid people all day, i work retail, he acts like I don’t understand being tired of idiots…I just…” you paused looking back out the windshield

“It’s like your skin is on fire and nothing stops the itch of being a once highly skilled assassin who could fuck with peoples molecules and freeze them in time or make them explode?” You nodded looking at her

“I find myself flicking my hands out and remembering I can’t just blow up or freeze people anymore, it’s like an itch and anytime I explain it to five he just…”

“Doesn’t listen? Or doesn’t understand that you are used to how your life was and now that it’s different, it’s not bad but it’s eye burning mundane clock ticking by slower then ever reality?”

Nodding you sighed

“Diego, he wants to listen, he just, from what five always told me he had a hard time understanding others because his brain is just, frazzled and he feels inadequate, how they grew up I guess shaped them in every timeline. Five is just used to being alone he was alone for 30 years before we met, then I popped up and it’s just. I don’t think he gets that sometimes I just need him to..”

“Let you Help with the itching”

You nodded smiling at her

“He just, it’s been a lot, and we haven’t quite got the ‘normal life’ down just yet.” Lila nodded

“It’s not easy in normal marriage land either, 3 kids and a chunky husband who, doesn’t make it easier is….”

“Not helping the itching. Well how about me and you, when the itch gets too bad, we help each other? Maybe find a way to do something, go to a rage room? Do a fighting class something to feel the….rush? Of what we did before. Have Klaus or someone babysit the kids, be me and you and just….”

“Fighting each other like the before days?” You laughed nodding

“Yeah…I miss getting to kick your ass and having you kick mine…”

Lila laughed looking around

“We could start a fight club, you, me, Ben when he gets out of prison. Just….maybe we’ll get used to normal eventually….” You frowned nodding

“You know if you ever need anything, help with the kids, a friend to vent to when Diego is being Diego…I’m not to far from your guys place. I can always swing by, let the munchkin tornados beat up on auntie Y/N.” You smiled at her for all the mess you and her had been in against each other, she had become one of your closest friends and family members through it all.

Soon enough you finally made your way into the building, the screams of children everywhere, the smell of sugar and something faintly child everywhere. You spotted five by the ball pit, speaking with Ben, walking over you hugged five from behind sighing as you rested your forehead against his back

“Hello, love.” You squeezed him in response before looking up and over to Ben

“Ahh Benjamin, free from jail, good to see you didn’t die, love that you still look like you want to murder us all” Ben didn’t laugh, just glared at you before sighing

“Not in the snark mood got it.” You felt five squeeze your arm a bit pulling away from you, making you groan

Turning to fully look at you, he looked you over smiling softly

“How was work?” You looked at him blinking slowly before sighing and planting your forehead on his chest, groaning

“Ahh I see” his hand rubbed your back softly, his other lifting the beer to his lips.

“People are stupid. How hard is it to put a gas nozzle in a car….”

“Apparently impossible if what you tell me says anything” you looked at him nodding before turning to look around

“10 bucks says Diego forgets to put up the piñata like Lila asked him” five laughed slightly

“Nah 20 says Lila has a mental breakdown before cake is served” you looked over to where Lila stood with Gracie helping the young girl fix her party hat,

“Nah I think she has a breakdown after presents when she sees what we got Gracie” five laughed looking down at you, brushing the stray hair from your face, smiling at him you sighed softly again,

it seemed even if you wanted to rip your hair out from the new ‘normal’ reality you all had to live in, even if your skin itched from the need to return back to what life was before somehow, it was nice that you still had small moments, where normal wasn’t so bad, normal birthday parties for your nieces and nephews, seemingly normal holidays, and normal, non murder happy work. As much as you loathed admitting it, sometimes it was nice. Like now, now was nice.

[pickingupmymercedes]

My Mark - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Pure SMUT - NSFW

We're nearly at a 100 followers, which is insane to me, so here's a smut to celebrate

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, jealousy, oral (m!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), creampie.

wordcount: +1k

a/n: There's close to no plot, like whatsoever, it's pure smut.

Also, wrap it before you tap it

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

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He was him, and you were…well, you.

You had always prided yourself on not being the jealous type, you had always trusted your relationships and to an extent, you trusted your own game. You weren’t a model, but you had learned how to feel good within your own skin, how you were the only one able to give yourself the confidence to be your best.

But you were dating the Lewis Hamilton, and as much as he would show you, time and time again, that the Sir was a persona detached from “Lew”, the guy that marveled at the simplest sight of normalcy, sometimes you’d feel the weight of sharing the slightest piece of him with the world.

And that particular evening, as you turned off your work computer and peeked at your phone you felt an anguishing burn in your belly as photos and videos of Lewis at Grace Wales Bonner showing at the Paris Fashion Show popped up from every social media. The white suit, the lack of undershirt, his stray braid, the way his thumb traced the corner of his lips, they were all mouthwatering things and mannerisms you’d gotten almost used to over the months of your relationship.

He was hot, God-like hot, you knew that, and you also knew people wanted him as much as you did, but while scrolling through the official photos one in particular made you smirk as you walked into your London apartment. A slight cut in his bottom lips, that could very well be seen as nothing, was the physical reminder of where your teeth had drawn blood amidst his vigorous thrusts the previous week.

So, you did the one thing you’d tell yourself over and over not to, packing your bags early, rescheduling all your commitments and rebooking your plane to Nice in two days to get to Paris in the early hours of the next morning.

As you got to his hotel room you saw the smirk on his face, his lazy posture with his arms spread across the bed and the covers only to his waist giving it away he had already been told you’d be arriving, a “bastard” muttered under your breath.

You undressed as you got to the bed and crawled onto the fluffy cover on his lap, leaving kisses all the way from his belly button to his neck, a lazy smile all across his face as he opened his bobba eyes. You kissed him like his lips were made just for you, your hunger to be his and to make him yours guiding your every move as he too felt the urgency and deepened the kiss.

“Why so needy, babe?” his lips leaving ghost like touches on your shoulders, his arms bringing you closer to his chest as he pulled you into his laid body. It didn’t take long for his hands to find your ass, for his touches to become firmer and for his lips to part as he let low murmurs of pleasure as you rocked onto his lap, his boxers and your lingerie the only barriers.

“You’re mine, Sir” your eyes delivering the message to him that he was now your main and only target, in a hunt you’d already won but needed to make it crystal clear. `

You took advantage of the brief moment he’d taken to register your affirmation to make your way back to his waist, hands slowly tracing all the muscles in his abs until your fingers got to the happy trail he hadn’t waxed in a while.

“Please, let’s not start something we’re not going to finish” A tug at your arms as he made you look up at him, his hands creating a makeshift ponytail with your hair and his eyes half glazed with lust already.

“I’m not one to leave things unfinished” a smirk displayed on your features before you turned your attention back to his body, palming his already rock-hard penis through the fabric of his boxers and getting his hips to jolt up as he hissed at how sensitive his member already was.

His breathing got shorter and the patches of precum got more noticeable the more you toyed with the hem of the fabric. His gaze fixed back on you when your fingers went up to his abs, a momentary break for him to catch his breath, not long enough though before you freed his angry and wet head, giving the slit a soft kiss before pulling his whole underwear down to reveal his penis in all its glory.

“You don’t get to do anything this time” Your hand pushing on his chest as he motioned to sit up and bring you to him. Siting back on your knees your hands started to spread the precum from his tip onto his length, pumping it with the sweetest smile you could muster while looking up at his desire-filled features, his grunts the only noise alongside the eventual pops your lips would make when you started to suck him, one of his hands softly going to your head as you worked your lips in unison with your hand on his member.

“Gosh, y/n, I’m gonna cum like that” And you could feel in how tense his lower abdomen felt and how raspy his voice sounded that he was really close.

“I want your seed in my pussy, I’m the only one that can have it” You whispered close to his lips as you straddled him, just mere seconds before your walls fully took his length, the sharp stretch that he still managed to give you, overwhelming all your awareness of time and space, his hiss and curses the only sounds you were able to hear. It took you a while to be able to move, his hands smoothing the skin on your waist as he breathed praises.

As he raised his upper body, to adjust the pillow under his head, his hips followed his movements and his tip slightly brush your g spot, earning a guttural moan from you, your sight sharply refocusing on his darkened eyes above you. He reached for your waist to bring you closer and this time you allowed him to stand up a bit, giving the first few rocks on his dicks as you clutched him by his shoulders.

The more you moved the harder it got for you to stop, getting lost in the pleasure, “oh shit” coming out of his mouth every few seconds as you felt his breathing getting shallow until his strong hand held you by the waist, holding you down as he tried to control himself, his eyes closed and inhaling sharply against your chest.

“You okay?!” His sudden need to stop caught you off guard and you held his face searching for any sight of pain or discomfort.

“Yeah… you’re just… you’re so hot” his now opened eyes admiring your features, his breathing coming back down.

“I’m close too” Your reassurance giving him the confidence to thrust his hips up, laying back on the pillows to watch at where you two connected and finding his away to your swollen clit, massaging it with his licked thumb as your movements got less coordinated.

Each time his penis entered your walls you could feel every millimeter of him, you felt full with each thrust and it wasn’t long before the desire went from just wanting him to needing to feel his touch everywhere you could. You reached for him and without questioning he took control, peppering the skin on your neck with sloppy kisses before flipping you to lay on your back still with his dick inside you.

He kissed your lips as softly as he could, a totally different demeanour to how deep and rough he fucked you, breaking the kiss every now and then to look at you with those sex hazy eyes you had grown so fond of.

As he got closer his thrusts got sharper and carried more force, he raised his body and rested his hands on either side of your waist, hitting a deeper spot that got you squirming, the skin-on-skin noise filling the air all around with your moans and his grunts.

It wasn’t long before you felt his thumb on your clit again, this time though he kept the pressure even when you bit on the skin of his shoulders, your walls clenching around him when your vision went white while he kept pounding, riding your high and also making sure every spill of his semen found its way to your cunt.

His last thrusts were always the hardest to take, the ones that would hit deeper and sharper, the one he had near to no control over as his instincts pushed him to stay as deep as he could, for as long as it took you both to come back down to earth. Always leaving kisses on any skin his lips made contact with, fingers tracing patterns and whispering sweet nothings on your ears.

“Hello to you too” His eyes now soft and filled with love, the darker pupils back to its normal size as he slipped out of you and collapsed by your side, pulling you to his chest soon after.

“Surprised?” your hands finding its favorite place to rest on his abs as you laughed at his dazzled stare at you.

“You make me a hot mess. I always have to hold back when you’re riding me” You gave him back a half smile half smirk, leaving a kiss to his chest as his fingers traced the skin on your arms.

“Guess I have a new favorite position then”

“What was that all about, by the way? I thought we were meeting in Monaco in two days” His attentive eyes now looking at you for answers.

“The mark on your lips from last week, it’s still there” You lift your head to look at his lips, the lust back in the gleaming of your eyes as he remembered the sting in how hard you had bitten on his lips.

“All of this, for a mark?” He chuckled, amused at how random some of your actions seemed to him.

“My mark. You’re mine, Lewis Hamilton” You pointed out, pulling his face to yours, finding his lips in the type of teeth and tongue kiss.

“Always…I’m all yours”.

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk

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[mauvecherie-writes]

destinado al deseo: l.hamilton | series

ru’s 💌: Now those closest to me know I’ve been sitting on this since January without devulging too much information because I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to post it because I’ve been in my academic era. As my year is beginning to wrap up and I’m left with more time on my hands, I feel like this is the perfect time to finally share this with you guys! I’m so excited ahhh! I hope you love it as much as I love writing this 🩷

status: ongoing [coming soon]

tropes and tags: NSFW 18+, MDNI, acquaintances to lovers, billionaire romance, BDSM slow burn, Dom/Sub dynamic, angst, mentions of child neglect, narcissistic and enabling parents, sibling rivalry, explicit sexual scenes. [CHAPTERS WILL HAVE SPECIFIC TAGS/WARNINGS]

DISCLAIMER: this story is a piece of pure fiction. outside of the likeness to Lewis Hamilton’s physical appearance and certain aspects of his professional career and business - EVERYTHING HERE IS FAKE.

destinado al deseo : destined for desire.

Nothing on the London Real Estate market moved without Soleil Beverly knowing about it. She built her empire from the ground up and climbing up the property ladder until she was at the top.

Maintaining her throne with what feels like the weight of the world on her shoulders was too much to bear but she did it. And she did it well.

Which left her with no time for anything else …

Especially intimate relationships.

Hence why, everyone from her parents to her close friends trying to set her up with every man of the upper echelon. Date after date, she shut them down - giving every reason under the sun as to why she can’t give them a chance after the first date.

Fed up and promising her best friend one more date (which goes horribly as expected), Soleil ends up being saved by someone she never expected. Even more so, she wasn’t prepared for the unpredictable journey that night would spark ..

Soleil: [ s oh - l AI ]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒:

0.

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @samiwzx @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @perfecttrashface @alianovnaromanovanatalia @leilaxaliel @sageispunk @2serenity0 @gemii-n-tay @aluapla

[myillicitaffair]

Somethin’ Stupid | Charles Leclerc

Summary: while being interviewed by his former lover, bottled up feelings find their way out.

Warnings: english not being my mother tongue, lots of angst, some swearing, arguments.

Notes: this is the first time i’m ever posting anything on here, i hope you enjoy it xx

1.5k words.

Letting myself fall into his abrasive webs was surprisingly easy. His green orbs, pervasive and curious, piercing my soul.

We had our ups and downs, unbridled passion slowly dying with each tear shed, magnetic attraction burning my lungs.

We found ourselves in a hiatus, which found a way of prolonging itself further than I would have liked to. Perhaps he managed to keep himself occupied with his busy schedule; trainings, special dietary requirements, public relations… as for me, I rather hold my silence.

My routine was overflowed with his voice, with how much I missed his touch on my lower back, guiding me through the crowds, our hands intertwined in a tacit promise.

However, life demanded to continue with apparent normality. Dinner parties surrounded by friends, rounds of drinks avoiding alcohol… The last thing I needed was to degrade myself into a melancholic drunkenness.

Was he also having a hard time with the abysmal coldness on the other side of the bed or the loneliness of not having anyone to dilute your sorrow over morning coffee with?

My days had fallen into a sort of routine; waking up while missing him, showering while missing him, having breakfast while missing him… I think you get how thing are.

This particular morning, Silverstone was extraordinarily cloudy, the mist engulfing my view from the hotel room. How fitting!

Running away from my surreptitious misfortunes, I head downstairs, soaking up the competitive environment prior to every race. Emboldened as an agitated swarm, my colleges and me descended on the designated circuit.

Tedious security controls accompanied the anticipated fun, a hammer already pounding into my head at the thought of seeing him face to face once more.

Walking towards the space where the press was condensed, I check the days schedule for the last time. I am lucky enough to maintain friendly interactions with most drivers, so as to achieve fluid interviews, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats.

The only reason I can find as to why that fateful name is written on my list of drivers to interview was that God and I clearly have some unresolved business… funny timing to make me pay the price though!

A lump gets stuck in my throat just by thinking about it, preventing regular air flow.

The countdown only stuns me, even though my duty doesn’t start until the last lap. The smell of burnt rubber, product of speeding wheels, fills my lungs while intoxicating my nostrils.

The continuous lights turn red with overwhelming precision as seconds go by, lightning up the faces hidden with baklavas and iconic helmets.

Unconsciously (or maybe not so much), my eyes crawl back to the speeding number “16” that, red and furious, slides around the circuit while attempting to memorize every bump and curve along the way.

Chasing the sequence with collective looks of astonishment, a collision comes rushing down, disabling Piastri and Norris by the arrogance that only clear disagreements gives you.

Without further issues, the race concludes with a podium conformed by both Red Bull Racing drivers, trailed by seven time world champion Lewis Hamilton.

As possessed by group madness, the journalists rush into the victors. Microphone in hand, cameras shadowing us, content hunger gushing from our pores.

Driven by a exacerbated sadness, I shift my focus from the winners to him, returning my gaze with clouded tear ducts, bottled up frustration visible in his features.

With a touch on my shoulder, I’m brought back to reality by a co-worker, who, with a subtle shift of her head signals my awaiting obligations.

I head towards my press conference, where I take a seat with my name on it, psyching myself up for what I’m sure will be the most awkward interview of my whole career.

Dressed in Ferrari clothing and constantly stalked by flashes, both pilots near the platform where I await. They settle into their designated spots, holding still until the cameraman says otherwise.

I steal one last glance at my premeditated questions and hide my true feelings behind a focused frown.

“Welcome dear viewers! We find ourselves in the eleventh race of the year, accompanied once more by our friends from Ferrari, Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz.”

I desperately try stabilizing the noticeable shake in my voice.

“Friend”- the Monegasque interrupts my monologue with a mocking remark.

The puzzled look his teammate throws in his direction doesn’t go unnoticed by the former, who insists on jointing his glistening irises with mine.

I decide to ignore the brief impasse in the speech, running away from his calculated sarcasm as I force the corners of my mouth into an attempted smile.

“so, Carlos… do you think driving behind two cars that crushed ruined your performance?”- I question, tripping over my words under Charles´s scrutiny.

“It´s safe to say it wasn’t an unexpected accident”- the Spaniard pronounces, doing his best at minimalizing the awkwardness- “for at least a couple of laps, Oscar and Lando were teasing each other, clearly trying to gain advantage over the other. They were lucky enough neither of them got hurt.”

I nod absent minded, vibrating due to the pounding against my ribcage.

“Charles, what can you tell us about your engineers’ strategy for this race?”- I swallow loudly, praying he can´t notice the mesmerizing effect he has on me.

“I guess you could say I’m not entirely satisfied with my team´s execution this season”- he confesses, minimizing the tingles of frustration running down his spine- “It would also be quite unfair dumping the blame on my team when my failure has more to do with me letting my emotions get the best of me.”

The tension is intercepted by a longing sigh I didn’t know I was withholding. The world seems to stop in its euphoria simply to hang in his every sentence.

“A broken heart is no joke… even less when you have to patiently wait for the piece they decide to donate you”- he reproaches without saying my name but making it perfectly clear that I was indeed the recipient of his raw address.

My anxious movements become motionless, forgetting the when and where, just to focus on the displeasure bubbling in my stomach.

“Guys, I really don´t think it’s appropriate to discuss this now”- intercepts the Madrilenian, proposing a ceasefire.

Mi hand goes up in the air before I can help it, shutting him up mercilessly.

“I wonder where I must´ve learned it…”- I reply, drowning in the unexpected harshness of my tone- “don´t forget who was the one to suggest this ´no strings attached´ bullshit between us.”

The drivers face shines with a scandalous blush in response to my bravado. Right here and there, I comprehend the dept of his anger, making its way through his collarbones, until it climbs up his cheeks.

“Just because I thought that’s what you wanted”- he spits out his resentful response.

From the corner of my vision, I perceive Carlos´s discomfort by reading his body language; the friction of wiping away the sweat stagnant on his hands, his shoulders pouring forward in a clumsy attempt of hiding from the cameras, his chair weakly shaking under the constant bouncing of his extremities.

Madness atrophies my reasoning, blinding me enough as to not have merci on his apprehension. I took this way too far, it would be useless to swallow my feelings.

“how in the world could you think our agreement benefitted me? Really, Charles, you couldn’t be any more stupid!”- I scream back, jumping up from my seat.

The swing of my feet gets ahead of my thoughts, allowing me to run away from the premature conflict before it blows up in the air.

Mi face heats up from the warmth of my own tears, that start rolling down my cheeks. With each involuntary spasm of my jaw, sobs escape my gasps for air. I don’t dare to slow down.

“Can you please just listen to me?”- a voice behind me shouts, trying to stand by my side.

I turn around to face his scrunched up brows.

“you have nothing else left to make up. You may convince somebody with the whole ´heartbreak boy´ façade you’ve got going on, but you have genuinely driven me mad”

“You and I both now that isn’t true! Have you ever wondered why I always seem to take a step back after every show of affection?”- he manages to freeze me to the core- “How come you never noticed my excessive efforts to stay away from you? I can’t even behave like a functional human being if I’m not feeling you, touching you, having you with me.”

In the middle of the paddock, with every pair of eyes set on us, events unfold the way I’ve been dreaming of, however I can´t even react.

“I know I´m not in a position to ask you anything, but please, strip me from the torment that uncertainty means… even if that means to completely destroy me”- he whispers with renewed fragility.

My smirk slowly becomes uncontrollable laughter, reducing me to unbridled chuckles. I shelter the vestiges of my giggling in between his arm, until It ceases in its intensity.

Without noticing, I search for his lips with my own, craving the heat they irradiate.

“I think you know perfectly well how my soul aches for you”- I manage to sneak in between kisses, stumbling across his smile, displayed in all its glory.

[henneseyhoe]

Just One More. | 3

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: reader isn’t that included in this one since she’s away (srry lolzz), pure FLUFF, short but i’ll probably redo this cause i don’t like the beginning that much.

SUMMARY: just lewis being a softie with your daughter while you’re away ^3^

1 |2|3|4|

✮✮✮✮

It was 8PM at night and your house was louder than a zoo. Granted, you and your three boys weren’t there and instead watching through your phone as your daughter ran rampant through her closet, her father chasing her around with items of clothing. Half naked and hair soaked wet, she was working on getting herself undressed again after a bath.

You could tell she drove poor Lewis up a wall that day.

You and your three boys decided to go on a camping adventure near the lake, your daughter refusing to go and get quote “bit up outside”, end quote. She was only four and as spoiled as ever. When you told her she can’t stay home because everyone was going, she cried for an hour until her father cracked under pressure and agreed to stay back with her, even though Lewis would have loved a dip in the lake and some time away from the city.

You couldn’t do anything but laugh at your phone screen, pressing the record button to capture the moment.

“Darling, please! Daddy is tired and needs his sleep. Please put on your pajamas and get in bed”

He begged her for what seemed like the hundredth time, but the girl was too busy pulling her head out of her shirt and running into a wall. She got back up with no tears to Lewis’s surprise and took a dive into her princess themed bed, closing her canopy to hide from her dad.

Lewis lets out a huff and walks over to the bed sitting down right beside it with a look of defeat on his face. Hearing the presence of her father near her, your daughter erupts into a fit giggles, peaking her head out from the pink curtains.

“You got me, daddy!” She squealed with a smile on her face that was soon replaced with confusion. “what’s wrong?” She asks, wondering why her daddy no longer wanted to play with her, even after most of the days consecutive hours of it.

See, usually Lewis had help to balance out her energetic ways, you taking over whenever Lewis was tired and vice versa. Now that you weren’t here, even one kid alone was tiring when only running on a few hours of sleep.

Layla hadn’t yet understood that her parents weren’t robots that could just keep playing with no breaks. Sometimes she didn’t pick up on the cues when she had gotten a bit much to handle.

Climbing off of the bed, she fits herself into in Lewis’s lap and lays her head on his chest, giving him a hug.

“I’m just a little tired, love. That’s all” He reassured her with a pat on her semi wet braids, already knowing he’d have some serious frizz to tame in the morning if he let it dry that way.

“I’m tired too” Layla replies, thinking of how much she missed her mother now. “Will you read to me please? And the book mama reads, the one I like” Lewis pulls back from the hug to look at his daughter’s face, smiling.

“Yes, I can read to you. But first, let’s get you officially ready for bed”

✮✮✮✮

“And that’s how the cow jumped over the moon, and the stars” Lewis ended off the book with a drowsy toddler cuddled right in his arms. She had begged him just before the story to lay in bed with her also, giggling at how her father’s socked feet stuck out from the end of the bed because of his height.

“I wanna be a star one day” Your daughter confessed sleepily, making Lewis chuckle.

“Like…In space?” He asks to be sure and she nods.

“I dunno about becoming one but…If you reach high enough into the sky, you can catch one” Your little girls eyes brightened at her fathers words, Lewis smiling down at her as he tucks her into her covers.

“Really, daddy? You’re lying…” She says with her eyebrows knitted together, becoming unsure of the possibility that she could go so high that’d she’d capture burning light. Lewis nods and kisses her forehead.

“No lie. I almost did it once”

“Once when?” She squints and makes a face of skepticism, a mannerism she got directly from you.

“Hmmm…Just before you were born, actually. I remember praying while your mom slept, and I looked out the hospital window and saw two shooting stars as bright as your eyes. I reached out to catch them, but they were so hot that I let go. Fast forward an hour later, you and bubby were born” A wide smile grew on the little girls face, her little hands using her beaded braids to hide her blushing.

Lewis laughs and moves her hands and hair from her face before kissing her cheeks.

“So I was a star before I was a baby?” She inquired just after a yawn, Lewis humming at the question.

“Yeah. You and Bubby were stars”

In the morning you would wish you had caught the moment in real time as you slept with your phone placed on your stomach and your three boys lightly snoring by your side, but you’d be grateful you pressed that record button to capture the memory digitally instead.

✮✮✮✮

💌— Yippee! more fluff!!! 🤭

[passengerprincessblog]

"Love and Affection" Lewis Hamilton Short

Summary: Y/N wakes up sick and Lewis takes care of her.

I roll over in bed, my eyes heavy and my limbs weighed down like lead. I glance up at the high ceilings of Lewis’s bedroom; it’s vast, luxurious, and usually makes me feel like I’m waking up in a dream. But today, everything feels muted, dulled by the scratchiness in my throat and the ache in my head. I let out a low groan, hoping somehow the sound might bring some relief. Soft sheets cocoon me, but even they can’t provide any comfort right now.

“Lewis?” I try to call out, but my voice comes out weak, hoarse, barely a whisper. For a moment, I worry he won’t hear me.

I press a hand to my forehead, feeling the unmistakable warmth of a fever. I feel miserable, and the only thought in my mind is, Where’s Lewis? A pang of guilt hits me—I probably slept through his morning routine again, and he’s probably gone off to start his day. Why do I always sleep in so much? I feel the sting of helplessness, and before I know it, my eyes are misty. I grab the water on the nightstand, take a slow sip, letting it soothe the burn in my throat, even if only temporarily.

Just then, I hear footsteps in the hall. A flicker of hope stirs inside me, and a moment later, Lewis appears in the doorway, one of his EarPods in and the other dangling from his ear. His eyes fall on me, taking in my disheveled state, and I see concern flood his expression.

“Did you call me, baby girl?” he asks, pulling out his EarPod completely. His gaze softens as he steps into the room.

“Yeah…” I whisper, sinking back into the bed. “I don’t feel good.” My voice sounds rough, like sandpaper.

His brows knit together as he crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed. “Don’t feel good? What do you mean?” His tone is a gentle scolding as he presses the back of his hand to my forehead, the coolness of his skin like a balm.

“Baby…” he murmurs, his voice laced with worry. “You’re burning up.” He sets his EarPods and phone down, his hand lingering against my cheek, soothing me with his touch.

“I told you, you need more rest,” he says softly, a hint of reprimand in his tone, but I can tell he’s more concerned than anything else. He stands up and disappears into the bathroom, leaving me with a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry…” I murmur, my voice small.

He returns a moment later, arms full of various pill bottles and a couple of little medicine cups. He looks focused as he reads the instructions on each bottle, muttering under his breath about doses and timing. Finally, he pours a couple of pills into his hand, holding them out to me.

“Here, take these,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. I take the pills from him, feeling a strange mix of relief and embarrassment as he watches me like a hawk. Then, he pours some syrupy medicine into a little plastic cup, handing it to me with a sympathetic smile.

“And this…” he says, holding it up. I make a face, dreading the bitter taste, but he raises an eyebrow, giving me a playful yet stern look. I roll my eyes but obediently swallow the medicine, grimacing as it slides down.

“Ugh, gross,” I croak, my voice rasping more than I’d like. Lewis’s expression softens even further, and he reaches out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips lingering on my cheek.

“My poor baby…” he murmurs, stroking my cheeks with a touch so tender it almost makes me want to cry again. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” His warm hand cradles my face, his thumb brushing gently along my skin, and I lean into his touch, finding comfort in it.

I frown, feeling even more vulnerable under his gaze. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, the warmth of his lips a stark contrast to the chill I feel from the fever.

“I’m here… all day. I’ll take care of you,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close in a gentle embrace. I nestle into his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my ear.

“Thanks, lovey,” I say softly, feeling my eyes close as I relax into his hold. His arms feel like a fortress around me, a place where nothing bad could ever reach me.

He pulls back slightly, patting my head with a comforting smile. “Let me go make you some soup, okay?”

I nod, too tired to say anything else, and he kisses the top of my head before heading out of the room. The bed feels colder without him, and I sink back into the pillows, letting my eyes drift shut as I listen to the sounds of him bustling around in the kitchen.

After what feels like only a few minutes, but could have been longer, I hear him come back. He’s balancing a tray in his hands with a bowl of steaming soup, a small glass of juice, and a couple of crackers.

“Look at you, all pampered,” he teases, setting the tray on the nightstand before carefully helping me sit up. “Got your royal treatment right here.”

I can’t help but smile, despite the way my throat aches. “You know… I don’t deserve you,” I murmur, my voice barely a whisper.

“Shh,” he says, ladling a spoonful of soup and holding it up to my lips. “None of that, alright? I’m here because I love you.” He brings the spoon to my lips, and I take a small sip, the warmth spreading through me. It’s comforting, the taste of the broth, and the way he’s taking care of me.

As I eat, he stays by my side, chatting about the most random things—what the weather’s like outside, some silly video he watched, even a story about his training mishaps. He does everything to make me smile, and it works. I feel lighter, less like I’m weighed down by the fever.

“Thank you for being here,” I say, setting the empty bowl aside. My throat still aches, but I feel a bit better, even if it’s just because he’s here.

He tucks me back into bed, adjusting the covers around me. “Always, baby girl. Now you rest,” he says, brushing a soft kiss to my forehead. He reaches over, dimming the lights, and I close my eyes, feeling his hand in mine as I drift off, comforted by his warmth and love.

[unyandere]

Yandere killer x reader who is a Theatre Kid and CAN’T stop making musical references every two seconds

Tw: Theatre kid behaviour (I should know, I’m a theatre kid) songs from Hamilton, Epic:the musical, Six, Heaters, Ride the Ciclone (and maybe other musicals) mention

Maybe some musical references here and there but nothing too big

Other Tw: probably cringy, I feel bad for the Yandere, LOTS of bad English, oh dear you are not ready for this musicals references (I am not tagging the musicals fandoms, I feel like my silly goofiness is too overwhelming today)

Wanna read more unyandered works? Here’s the master post

You shot your photo aaaand… posted!

Now that you thought about it, this was your first post on insta, and it was a photo of you smiling in the theatre awaiting to see the play that would’ve started in just a few moments.

You almost couldn’t contain your excitement, buying the ticket had been a real struggle, but finally you would have been able to see THAT musical.

You were mumbling some of the songs from the musical you heard on Spotify, while trying to calm yourself down.

After a couple of seconds you heard a ping, a notification, from your phone.

The show would have started in less than 10 minutes, but looking at a notification wouldn’t take more than a couple of seconds.

Well, looking at the phone you noticed it was just your childhood friend liking your post.

You smiled at yourself.

On the other hand, your so called childhood friend was… well, he was certainly not well.

Tied up to a chair, beaten up and, oh lord, were those burn marks on his head?!

Yeah, he wasn’t exactly at his best.

But the guy in the same room as him, who, oh so casually, was smoking a cigarette, that so casually happened to be the cause of the burn marks, was someone that could be considered physically well, mentally… let’s just say his therapist had to see another therapist who also needed to see another therapist after that and so on.

The cigarette-smoking-guy was also in a good mood!

Talk about being lucky…

Why? Well, he just found that his muse, his everything, his sweetheart (who didn’t even know him but those are just flimsy details, aren’t they?) was pretty close to where he and his victim were and, on top of that, was oh so cutely looking at a play.

He didn’t really like plays, but if his sweetheart, his everything, his muse liked them… well he could stand to lose a few pounds hours.

Maybe… just maybe… after this job (extorting vital info for a particular company from your friend) (he was really keen on making your friend either disappear or become his accomplice in making you fall in love with himself), he could wash himself, dress up nicely and, maybe, meet you outside the theatre.

And, who knows, maybe he could… dine with you? Oh, how his mind rode off thinking of all the things you two could do together.

It took him ten minutes to recompose himself, ten minutes that he could have used to finish this job earlier.

He almost got angry with himself, but he stopped before: he didn’t have the time for that.

And so he looked at your friend.

“Sooo… how about you tell me those little secrets of yours, then you help me out with this one little-itty-bitty really legal thing and then, on an incredible note, I let you live?” He asked smiling at your friend.

Your friend sighed.

Three hours later you went out of the theatre, feeling refreshed and happy after seeing the whole play.

You knew you would sing those songs in repeat for the next three weeks.

But, as soon as you were outside you saw your childhood friend with… a guy in a black trench that looked like the outlet version of JD from Heaters.

Obviously, you went to your friend to greet them and tell them what a GREAT show you saw and give them a preview on how you would annoy them for the coming weeks.

They looked at you smiled (kinda forcefully?) and introduced to you their new friend telling you that “They were also musicals fans”.

To be honest, that was in no way true, he, the killer and kinda kidnapper on demand, hadn’t seen A musical in his whole life, he just knew some of the most famous titles.

But he did ask your friend to introduce him in a way you would want to talk to him.

And BOY DID THAT WORK.

You grabbed his wrist, your happy-neutral expression becoming more and more crazed-happy the more seconds passed.

“You..” you looked at him, eyes shining “You like musicals?!”

He slowly nodded (he was in an emotion between the most extreme happiness one can feel, the most fear one can feel and the most in love one can feel).

You stopped breathing for a moment.

“OMG! WHATSYOURFAVOURITEMUSICAL?WHATDOYOUSING?YOULOOKLIKEABASSBUTYAKNOWIDONTLIKETOMAKEASSUMPTIONS…DIDYOUSEETHISPLAY?DIDYOULIKETHELASTSONG?IDIDNTREALLYLIKEHOWTHEYEXCLUDEDTHECHORUSBUTICANUNDERSTANDTHESTORYREASONBEHINDITIMEANITOBVIOUSLYISAMETAPHORABOUTTHEPROTAGONISTBEINGABLETOBETHEMSELVESALONEWITHOUTTHENEEDOFANYONETELLINGTHEMWHATTHEYHAVETOBETOBEHAPPYBUTWHATDIDYOUTHINKABOUTTHISDECISION?” You asked, not so calmly.

He didn’t process the question, more precisely, while trying to understand what you were saying his brain went into overload, caused a crisis and collapsed on itself leaving him with one thought: her face was really cute.

“I like your head” he said, not being able to form a decent phrase.

You obviously took the reference (which technically wasn’t there) and laughed.

“Man, you Henry the VIII?” You joked.

He didn’t understand the joke, and neither did he remember anything about Henry the VIII apart from him being called the “Golden Prince” or something, so he thought you were looking at him and complimenting him on his looks.

And he totally had to return a compliment.

But then another person, a girl you knew from drama class, chimed in wanting to ask your thoughts on the play but she was stopped by him (who misinterpreted her wanting to come to you as her trying to attack you)

“Yo, you got a bone to pick?!” He asked her.

You and her looked at each other, then him, then each other again and you both, being both theatre kids obviously, smiled devishly.

“You’ve come so far why now are you pulling on my dick? I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch, but here’s some advice listen up” you both sang and then took a (extremely melodramatic) breath “BEEYOTCH”

And, yes, you both started little dancing together the choreography.

Nit doing it too much (cuz you know you were still in public) but doing it enough for your friend and mr. Killer and kidnapper on demand to see.

And he… he was confused.

What the hell did you two just do? Why did you two sing? Why were you both moving your hips? What did he say that made you two act like that.

“Why Lord-“ he started but as soon as he said that you two stopped looked at each other and attempted the last part of “The ballad of Jane Doe” (the part with the Why Lord) even though none of you were a soprano so what people heard were two chicken like voices schreeching and hurting everyone’s ears.

And now, now he was regretting his life choices, as he was cursing the fact that he was in love with you and not with, idk, a mentally stable and not socially awkward person.

“You are the-“ before he could even finish the sentence you two chances song, almost reading in each other’s mind with the typical telepathy ability that all theatre kids have once they sell their soul to the devil in exchange for the part they want to be casted as.

“-WORST KIND OF GOOD CAUSE YOU ARE NOT EVEN GREAT! A GREEK WHO REEKS OF FALSE RIGHTEOUSNESS THAT’S WHAT I HATE!!!” You and your drama class classmate sang as one voice as you both exchanged really full of pride stares to one another.

“I-I’m sorry” mumbled the Yandere “I will go to work”

And as soon as he said the word WORK, an ancient almost primal instinct woken up inside you and your classmate.

And you both started singing “The schuyler sisters” from Hamilton

And so, the Yandere pining over you just, quietly, walked away.

Traumatized and comforted by your friend who was also put at discomfort by your… peculiar antics.

[alwaysonf1]

date?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

Warning: Mild Language.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: PSA there will be no French hear unless it's a pet name or I love you.

A knock on her door makes Iman jump. In the process a bit of the lip gloss she was applying gets on her chin. Panic fills her and she quickly grabs a tissue and blots it away. 

“One second,” she calls out.

Iman would love to say that all her nervous energy was because she needs to touch up her make-up quickly, but it was there long before that. It’d been there since she’d woken up from her nap. She’d opted out of the late lunch she’d been invited to, claiming she was tired and needed a bit to recharge. Which hadn’t been a lie, but it also wasn’t the complete truth. Iman needed alone time to pull herself together and scream into her pillow.

The giddy schoolgirl behavior was back.

There was a part of her that still hated that feeling, but she’d also started to embrace it. Most of her relationships didn’t come with it. That didn’t mean the ones that did were amicable at all, but for some reason she felt like this time it made sense. This time it was okay to fall into her emotions, even if the potential bad outcome comes true.

As soon as the thought enters, even though it’s not sending her into a spiral, she pushes it out. Going into this with only thoughts of the good, while being realistic is what she needed to do. Even if things ending badly, was a realistic possibility.

With a tap of her setting powder and then a light mist, she gets herself up from the seat in front of the vanity and grabs her purse from the bench near the door. Her gaze flits over the mirror on the other side of the door and she walks toward it. One thing she isn’t nervous about is her outfit.

The olive-green dress she chose fits her well up top and flares perfectly at the bottom, stopping just below her knee. It’s her favorite color to wear and she’s full of herself enough that she knows that others agree with her choice. However, the one area where she’s a little hesitant is the shoes. Why she packed stiletto length heels she was unsure, but they work and that’s all that mattered.

A deep breath, an adjustment on how the bottom half of her braids not in an updo, and then she opens the door.

Unconsciously she takes a sharp inhale. When Charles looks up at her he does the same. It stops some of the burning in her cheeks, but she could see the rosiness forming on his face immediately. He looks bashful and that comforts her for some reason.

“Hi,” she says.

Not enough to get her to say something better than that though.

“Hi. You look… beautiful, mon ange.” He sounds a little breathless.

However, that isn’t what she focuses on. No, her brain is fixated on the term of endearment. Fixated on him calling her his angel. Iman is sure that the burn in her cheeks is enough to be visible. But she hopes her blush is hiding it. Being this flustered is a little embarrassing.

“Thank you. You look handsome.” 

The statement could easily just be a throw away compliment since he gave her one, but Iman means it. Her eyes scan him from head to toe, his combination of brown slacks and a cream ribbed button up makes her warm in a different way. Her eyes meet his again and he his lips are quirked in a smirk and there’s a fire in his eyes.

A second passes with them just staring at each other, then Charles extends his hand. Iman takes it without a second or first thought. Their fingers lace together, and Charles nods his head toward the elevators.

“We shouldn’t miss our reservation.”

Iman nods and they begin to walk. 

Silence fills the space between them, but it’s comfortable. Once inside the elevator she thinks Charles will let go, but he holds her hand firmly. Not giving a single sign, he plans to release her. Even as one of her fingers taps against the back of his hand due to her mild fear of being trapped in an elevator. Something that came from getting trapped in an elevator once with Logan. 

He leads her out of the elevator once the doors open, squeezing tight for a second. 

The only times he’s been in front of her is to motion her forward in a lady first gesture. Something she doesn’t need for a date but feels good.

Though the usual move was to rent a house on vacation, everyone thought a new resort that had everything you could want on the property was a good idea. So, from the moment they exit the hotel to their arrival at the restaurant only five minutes will pass.

The first minute is with more silence, but then suddenly Iman is pressed against Charles’ side. Her eyes go wide, and she turns her head to look up at him, but then she feels a whoosh of air. She turns her head just in time to see a golf cart going too fast.

Shock is the word that best fits her as she watches the cart until it disappears. Then she looks to Charles again. Despite their impending danger just moments ago he seems very calm. Too calm.

“Did you set that up, Charlie?”

“What do you mean?” Confusion takes hold of his features. 

“Your saving the damsel in distress moment?” 

His confusion only seems to grow, and she watches as he opens his mouth to reply, then closes it. An expression that Iman would call a little arrogant replaces the confusion.

“Are you a damsel in distress, mon ange?”

Iman purses her lips in thought, then bats her lashes at him.

“Maybe.”

Charles leans in close and whispers in her ear, “Then I will save you whenever you need it.”

Involuntary shivers run down her spine and from the growing smirk she knows that Charles noticed it. Her immediate response is to fall into a shy persona, but she steels herself, this time being the one to whisper in his ear.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

There’s a mild shift in expression, but he manages to keep it off his face. 

“We have to go. Don’t want to be late, remember?” she says.

Charles clears his throat and nods, leading them to the restaurant. This silence is more tension filled than before. The kind of tension that Iman enjoys.

But because she knows that he’s already flustered she doesn’t do anything to get him even more riled up. Just holds his hand until they get to the entrance of the restaurant. Her hand goes to push open the door, but Charles beats her to it. He gives her a look that she’s sure is about the audacity of her opening the door herself and then guides her in by the small of her back.

This resort has quite a few F1 fans on staff, so it doesn’t shock Iman when the host’s face lights up and he gestures for them to follow him without a word said. He leads them through the half full restaurant and to a table that isn’t completely separate from everything else but has some level of privacy.

Charles pulls the chair out for her, and she sits, her hands itching to look at the menu, but she waits until he’s seated and the host leaves. Iman’s hand reaches out to grab the menu, but it’s gone and in Charles’ hands before she can. She opens her mouth, ready to ask what he’s doing, but that’s paused by the waiter arriving with water and taking the drink orders. Before he leaves Charles promises they’ll have their orders ready for when he comes back.

So, instead of saying anything Iman looks at Charles with a raised brow. One of his hands extends across the table and takes her’s. He looks into her eyes and she almost melts.

“I know what you want,” he says.

Immediately she wants to be apprehensive, but she doesn't give into that. Yes, people could be different when a romantic relationship is on the table, but Charles sat through an hour rant about a date with someone who ordered for her and then ate half her food while she was in the bathroom.

“Go on,” Iman says.

“They have wagyu here.”

All funny feelings fled her at once and she could feel giddiness building up in her. 

“And a asparagus dish similar to…”

A soft sound of joy escapes her, cutting him off. The mention of two of her favorite things is all she needs to hear. Without thinking she gets out of her seat and goes to his side. She takes his head in her hands and leans down, kissing him in a way that isn’t soft, but also not intense.

When she pulls away Charles looks breathless again. And for a moment Iman thinks about doing it again but sees their waiter out of the corner of her eye and moves back to her seat. 

“What did I do to deserve that?” he asks when the waiter leaves.

“Listen.”

“That is all it takes?”

Iman knows he’s teasing her. They’ve had many conversations about the bar being in hell. Though he says it’s much deeper than that.

“I also just wanted to kiss you.”

“You are welcome to any time, mon ange.”

Embarrassment for her reaction to that or her reactions at all is nowhere to be found. Maybe it will turn up when she’s trying to sleep at night, but Iman has no regrets. Charles is a man she’s liked for longer than she’d care to admit and like she told herself in her hotel room, she’s allowing her elevated emotions to be what they are. She’ll mellow out.

Neither say anything else, taking a moment to taste their drinks. Wine isn’t her favorite thing, but she likes the red wine she chose. She hadn’t specified what kind, and the waiter didn’t ask. It worked in her favor.

Throat clearing and she’s looking at Charles again.

“Do you like it?’

“Surprisingly, yes.”

“Good.”

“Do you want to try it?” 

Charles’ eyes widen. “Oh no, mon…”

The glass is already outstretched to him, he hesitates, but takes it after a few seconds. Iman watches intently as his lips press to the rim and he takes a small sip. And then another. And then for a third time.

“Hold on now, I didn’t say you could drink it all.”

Her hand beckons for him to give it back and he takes one last sip then hands it over. There’s a pout taking shape, but Iman refuses to be swayed by it.

“Put that lip away before I bite it. Order your own.”

Brows are raised at the word bite, and he doesn’t stop the pouting. In fact, he exaggerates it. 

“Sharl…” she warns.

That brings a smile and she can’t help but roll her eyes, before smiling as well.

Time either moved quickly or the staff did, because two waiters approach with their meals a second later. They’re both covered until the plates are on the table and a man is now no longer what Iman is salivating over.

“Thank you,” they say as the waiters leave.

Once they’re gone Iman takes no cues from Charles, just picks up the smallest piece of her already cut steak and fights a moan. It’s nearly perfect and it’s been a while since she’d had it.

Her next step is tasting the asparagus. There’s a little surprise in the restaurant having it whole, the only time she sees them in an up-scale restaurant is usually as a barely there part of the meal. 

The moment she touches her tongue her eyes go wide and she takes another bite immediately. This time something akin to a moan almost comes out, but there’s another piece in her mouth before she can release it.

“That is almost the taste exactly,” Iman says.

“I don’t believe I have asked you, why do you enjoy those so much?”

Iman puts down the cutlery and takes a sip of her wine.

“Lewis was, and still is, a terrible cook. But that didn’t stop my mother from leaving me with him for a week while she worked. I only knew the basics and that got tiring after a while. So, I begged him to make something fancier. He caved, we went to the store and grabbed anything. Then we got home and it was a disaster trying to figure things out. Burned chicken, burned chocolate lava cake, and somehow burned mashed potatoes. Asparagus is the only thing that we managed not to burn and we’d just thrown random spices on them before roasting so we were terrified. But we agreed it was the best vegetable eating experience we’d ever had. Took weeks to figure out how to recreate it.

“And then he went vegan on me. So, it became one of the few shared favorite dishes we have.”

Charles appears thoughtful. There was some eating here and there - from both of them - as Iman spoke, but she had his full attention the entire time.

“Ah. I will admit that this love you have for it is still confusing to me, but I understand. Now, how did you come to love such an expensive cut of cow?”

Soft laughter escapes Iman because of his phrasing.

“For one of my birthdays, Lewis just showed up and said we were going to Japan. I’d always wanted to, but mom refused to let him just jet me here and there because it would spoil me or something. As if he didn’t in every other way,” Iman rolls her eyes. “But anyway, we went and did all the touristy things, ate ramen in small towns, and bought way too much in all the districts of Tokyo. Then we went to a restaurant that was just the fanciest place I’d ever seen. It was a kind of place that had a set menu.

“I wasn’t all that sure about trying the wagyu when it came out redder than I liked, but he convinced me and it was the best steak I’d ever eaten. We still had a week after that and I convinced him four more times to take me to places with wagyu, but I refused to have anything but the best. That’s the first and only time he’s cut off my spending. Which is fair. I was at risk of actually putting a dent in his bank account if I got my way.”

A fondness fills Iman and she thinks back to the chaos and fun of that trip.

“So should I raise my price when I go into contract negotiations to prepare for this addiction of yours?” he asks, laughing.

“If you like me, happy.”

“Then I will do just that.”

Iman was uncertain if he was joking or not, but there was this look in his eye that made her think he might not be.

Instead of addressing that she continues to eat her meal. They speak here and there about the things they loved in life. There’s a lot of focus on Iman getting back into dancing and Charles wanting to release more music.

“Why not release a single? Get the fans excited.” Iman asks

“I have nothing ready.”

“I’ve heard your “unfinished” music before, it’s great. You’re just too in your head.”

“Perhaps.”

Two waiters arrive to take their plates and then leave quickly. As if scared to linger longer than necessary.

“Dessert?”

Lips pursed, Iman shakes her head. “Hm… I usually wouldn’t say no, but I don’t know if I can manage.”

“We could share?”

Iman thinks it over, she knows that she’ll have to satisfy the sweet treat craving later if she doesn’t now. Which is fine, but she kind of wants to know what the restaurant has to offer. 

“Okay.”

Hand not even halfway up and the waiter is at their table.

“What can I help you with?” he asks.

“One of your chocolate mousses, please.”

“Only one, sir?

“Yes, we will share.”

Their waiter pulls a face. “I’m sorry sir, are you sure? The mousse is quite small.”

Charles looks at me and I turn toward the waiter.

“Two of them, please.”

The waiter nods and is gone as fast as he arrived. 

They continue talking about everything under the sun and just like their food, the mousse is there before they know it. And when they see it, their understanding of what small means is very clear.

“No wonder they provide such small spoons, trying to make people think it’s more than two scoops,” Iman says.

Nothing else is said and they dig in. It takes them both three spoonfuls to be done with it, confirming that Iman will need to order something from room service anyway.

“Ready to go?” Charles asks.

“Yes.”

He leaves the table and returns a minute later with his hand outstretched.

Iman takes it and rises from her seat and allows him to lead her out of the restaurant. The sun is much lower in the sky and so the walk is much slower than it was before. Their hands lightly swing between them.

When they reach Iman’s room she thinks it’s too soon, despite turning a five-minute walk into twenty. 

Stalling, she turns to face him and just stares. Charles does the same thing. Then he’s creeping closer and closer, until Iman’s back is flush against her door. One of his hands slips to her waist and the other cups her face. He angles her head up and then his lips are on her’s. They’re soft and taste of chocolate. It’s gentle to start, but Iman wraps her arms around him, trying to pull him closer and it takes a turn.

They part for a moment and then Iman puts a hand in his hair and pulls him back in. Her teeth graze his lip, he shivers. So, she does it again, but instead of a graze it’s a bite.

A haze comes over her.  As they finally pull away and she doesn’t know how long they’ve been at it, but she hears voices and doesn’t want to get in trouble for indecent acts in public.

“I should probably…” she trails, hitching a thumb at her door.

Charles clears his throat and loses some of that spacy look he has going on.

“Yes, you need your rest. We have an early morning.”

“Someone really should have stopped that Florida man from booking a sunrise breakfast boat ride and then snorkeling.”

Laughter. “I am sure it will be fun.”

“I hope so.”

Seconds tick by with neither of them doing anything. Then the voices get closer and Iman rediscovers sense. 

“So… good night, Sharl.”

“Good night, mon ange.”

They lean in and kiss again, but it’s more of a peck. Then he watches as she unlocks the door and goes into her room. She waves at him as she closes the door.

Inside her room Iman stands perfectly still as she counts down thirty seconds, hoping that he’s on the elevator. She reaches thirty and she grabs a pillow from the love seat in her room and screams into it.

“Hell yes,” she shouts.

###

Every second since Charles kissed Iman at her door has been like he’s floating on a cloud. His every moment is almost autopilot and when he breaks from his stupor for a second or two, he can’t remember when he changed into his pajamas or dimmed the lights. 

Standing in front of the bathroom sink so he can brush his teeth, his eyes meet the reflection and he sees a dopey smile on his face. Not that he hasn’t known it was there this entire time. But seeing it is different. It confirms something for him.

He’s not going to let this slip away. 

That’s not the thing he’s confirmed though, but he can’t find it in himself to address it. It feels too fast.

[persefida]

I genuinely don't know where all my life energy comes from. People don't live like that I'm pretty sure.

I make things every minute, every second of my life. I work hard, and when I'm tired I'm doing some other interesting things and relax hard. My job, my many hobbies, my every day walkings and my chores. I can't just sit and watch some tv series, I need to do something at the same time. Haha that's why I looove Hamilton musical, I find it relatable. No time to waste, spend your life as good, productive and sorrow-less as possible. I'm living like if I was hit by a car tomorrow, I wouldn't regret any of my decisions, because I tried to find a balance between my aspirations and reality.

I have a burning energy that makes me do things on weekends. Learning new skills after working days. There's no time to try these new games or watching youtube. Going for a walk? Then listen a podcast about science. Experience new things? Remember them for future inspiration and understand the world more and better.

I was asked to do some additional job tasks on free time (being paid of course). And even after doing them I still have a willing to do things. My last vacation was 7 months ago btw.

And I want to quit my job. My perfect 9-5 job, being an artist with a good salary and being able to work from home. Yes, I want to quit it and continue my own art business that I started before it. Because I want to have more time to learn more and do many other things. I have energy to work hard so this business would succeed. And when I'll get bored of that I will think about other things and proceed to succeed them too.

My mind goes really fast and I need to drink coffee so my body would keep up. Don't wish me to rest well, I take care of my mind and body because it's in my best interest for a long-run.

I don't know.

I think I'm burning bright and one day this unknown power source will end. I genuinely don't know how on earth I'm not combusted right at this place.

Here's the part of a Hamilton musical song that always gives me determination.

(The sketch about times when I was learning and practicing to do a hand stand. Just for fun.)

[technologyculturedneo]

It Burns | Lee Mark

"I bet you if the roles were reversed, if I went out there and fucked another woman while you were here with our child- you wouldn't even spare a moment to listen."

Pairing. Boyfriend!Lee Mark X Girlfriend!Reader

Genre. Angst. Established couple. Break up. Lovers to ex's.

Synopsis. With your half naked pictures circulating around social media, Mark waits for you to get home to have a talk.

Warning. Minor cusses. Low-key smut. Breakup. Your heart might get broken.

Playlist. Nct Dream My first love. Literally First burn Hamilton.

Part 2: It burns: The second time around

"So dad, you finally noticed," Mark's low chortle is a result of his 9 year old son, standing next to him reaching the height of his shoulder. Looking up into his dad's eyes, with sleezy cocky eyes he speaks. "You're getting old dad,"

Mark shuts his phone, chugging it into his pocket while looking for some stashed biscuits in one of the kitchen cabinets. "What? You think I'd feel intimidated by a shorter version of me?" His sister sent him a message, but it'd have to wait- especially since his son is feeling like a gigachad and is ready for his late night dessert.

"I'm a better version. Built differently from the ground up,"

"Boy please, you know you're built from the DNA of your mother and I," Mark plays along and moves to the next cabinet with his son still following. "Speaking of which, it's about time your mother gets back, don't you think?"

"Look at you avoiding the topic," his son smirks once before turning serious and looking smug. "Face it old man, soon I'll take over,"

"I'm not going anywhere," Mark, with another low chuckle, finally finds the stash in a medium sized basket. In a mocking tone Mark says, "Now mummy said, you'll get one, but I'mma be cool and give you 5 since you've grown a little,"

"A little?" His son pulls of a smolder causing Mark to stare at him in amusement and confusion. His son is a comedian. Mark tries to be serious... but his face exposes him as someone seconds away from bursting out in a laugh. "How does that make you feel dad?

Mark leans on the counter platform while his son tries to be cool and eats from the packet of his chocolate biscuits still dipping it in his milk like a child. Mark tries (evidently) hard to wipe the smile of his face and be serious, but he can't help when his shoulders shudder and he laughs.

"I'm a successor. Isn't that why you and mum made me?"

"Ethan, you're 9 and I'm 24. I'm a classic. Buddy you're just a remake no one asked for. A lazy cash grabber if I may add," Mark jokes maintaining his composure when Ethan, his 9 year old son does a 'pfft' in disbelief.

"You only exist to mow my lawn for free," Mark gets Ethan in a headlock ruffling his hair.

"What do you think I am? Child labor?" Ethan peeks at his dad with such smooth eyes- almost trying to charm him.

Mark ends up just looking at his son with a smile, not minding the almost so called intimidating persona. "It's called an allowance son, it's for you to know your place in the house,"

"My place?" Ethan scoffs getting back his smirk. In that moment Mark thinks to himself how he should cut down Haechan and Ethan's meeting time. Slowly but surely Mark can see Haechan in his son, and that's not something he'd be too thrilled about. It'd be fun, but Mark wouldn't be able to take his own son seriously- just like Haechan. "My place will soon be the man of the house,"

That's Mark's cue to laugh out loud standing up straight and smacking the back of Ethan's head. "Should I remind you who's in charge?"

"Dad you think those old tricks would still work on me?" Ethan stands in front of his dad with a proud and arrogant smirk. He's probably enjoying this as much as his dad. After all Ethan enjoyed fooling around with his dad- more than you, his mum. "I've outgrown you father. I'm sleeping on my own tonight. No need to tuck me. Be sure to tell mum I closed the light." And with that Ethan winks with a clicking sound leaving his lips. "I guess I should be the one telling you then, it's passed your bed time daddy."

Mark stands in amusement, astonishment and shock. He can only chuckle to himself once Ethan is gone. "Did he just call me daddy?" Staying alone in the kitchen, Mark reminisces on the conversation he had with his son and can't help but faintly chuckle every time. His son always seemed to amaze him every time. And tonight, he would definitely fill you in on Ethan's humor. "He thinks he has rizz,"

When he mentioned he had a day off today- he was expecting a netflix and chill with you (as he rarely saw you because of his tight work schedule) yet you were quick to exclude him from your plans with the girls and needed him to watch over Ethan. He didn't mind, he was relaxed about it too.

He takes a seat after drinking some water and checks the time.

You should've gotten home by now. But for some reason it's past 10pm and you're not in the house. Mark sighs and shrugs his shoulders deciding to wait for you in the living room.

But when time went by and he fetched Ethan like he normally did on all days, he thought you'd be home since Ethan finished school around 4pm. You were always home around 4-5pm. So naturally the house was always vibrant whenever he came home, but this time when he came home and the house was the same as he left it- he was a little downcasted but shrugged it off and made food with his son.

Well from there on, it became a regular father and son afternoon. Which again, Mark didn't mind.

Despite his hectic schedule, Mark always tried and never failed to make time for both his girlfriend and son. And this time Ethan got a whole lot of time with his dad.

Everyone was happy.

Mark checked in on you a couple of times, to which you responded with how you were alive. Mark smiled it off adding how he wanted you to have fun.

Honestly, Mark partially felt guilty most of the times when it came to you.

At the time, he was only 16 and you were 15. What the hell could the two of you possibly know about sex? It was an experiment you both tried. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Nothing wrong there. The problem is, it only takes one time for a seed to be planted. Neither of you had condoms, and were both sure that you weren't going to be pregnant.

That's until, the bump started to form.

Although it wasn't Mark's body, he was anxious. You kept brushing it off saying that it's because you loved eating like the food hungry pig you were.

But when days and months passed, and your friends jokes began to simmer down, and his friends would start making jokes of you actually being a mum, and your parents began worrying- it was bound for you to start taking things seriously.

There's no way you were pregnant. Mark was positive of that fact, mainly because he was religious and kept believing that it was a mistake and that God wouldn't let that happen.

You secretly went to the store with him to buy a pregnancy test. The cashier was surprised seeing you and him but you both joked it off that it was for your mum. So being safe at your house, you peed on the purple stick and both you and Mark relaxed and waited for the results. Nothing could prepare you both for the results of the test.

Mark claimed that it had to be fake and that you needed to go to the hospital. He went with you, hand in hand like the loving boyfriend he was and made sure to be more calm while you were freaking out and afraid of the results and most worryingly- your parents reactions.

There was nothing you both could do when the results came out. Your lips kept trembling. You wanted to cry- and you did cry.

You were pregnant.

Mark impregnated you.

The girl who got pregnant at 15.

Despite him always being the sweetest of boyfriends you could ever have asked for- you hated him. And you made sure to let him know how he ruined your life. Every word you said, every action that came after was a result of the shock you had after receiving the results. But your words were still in Mark's head. Permanently. And to this day Mark felt partially at fault that you never had a normal teenage life.

Despite your confidence, once you found out you were pregnant you were crushed at the rumors spreading about you. They always say that the only voice that's loud is your thoughts, but actually it can also be a bunch of strangers that you don't know. Everyone talked about you.

The girl who dropped out of school.

The disappointment child who threw her future away.

The dumb girl who forgot to use rubber.

You were slammed with comments virtually, physically and even inwardly.

Your parents, despite the shame you brought them, stuck to your side. Even though the comments of them being unfit and unworthy ran around their own respective families...they never let you go or talked down on you. And you were thankful for that.

Mark on the other hand; He didn't get worse of a treatment as you (it's what you like to believe). In fact no one even knew him to be the one who impregnated you. Except your friends and his friends, no one said a word to him. However, his parents weren't so supportive. They reprimanded him. And you know just how much Mark's parents mean to him, so for them to cast him out into the streets broke your heart. And bit by bit, you became calm and stopped telling him that you hated him and that it was all his fault.

Your parents took him in, and you both dropped out of school.

Without qualification, he managed to find work and has been working ever since. Despite Mark and his parents relationship being broken, his father was generous enough to continuously tell people that he had a son who was looking for work. Despite his father not seeing him- some of the best opportunities that came Mark's way were a product of his father's.

And with that, Mark made sure to never disappoint but rise to the table and make ends meet. For his girlfriend, his girlfriends parents, his parents, and of course the unborn child which they both chose to keep.

Mark was financially smart, so investments into right businesses, and profits in right settlements all came together and he was finally able to take care of his girlfriend and 2 year old child without being a hindrance to your family.

They never said it to his face, but he knew they accepted him into their house because you talked them into it.

But through it all, Mark never had a hard heart. He was remorseful and kept trying to make it up to you, your family and his family (who were slightly on communication terms...occassionally they wanted to meet their 'grandson' and Mark and you.)

It was awkward going from a solidly good relationship with his parents the moment you started dating, to being in whatever zone is going on between them and you. They don't hate you, but they're not saying much to you or Mark. They visit Ethan once a year and aren't that big into his life, our yours or even Mark. You don't know exactly how to feel.

But Mark doesn't wear it over his head, or shoulders...he's always....okay.

Which is why at 3am, driving back in an uber to your house (where you believe your husband could be sleeping) you try not to get too worked up and panicked when noting that all your drunk/texts (screenshots) and hinged pictures of you with your... You choke up on your tears and fan yourself for the tears to go away.

You told Mark you had to spend time with the girls- but really you had to resolve matters before it got out of hand. You've failed to resolve the matter, you've failed to keep it all at bay with Jaemin (a man who's not your boyfriend), you've failed in keeping Jaemin just as a secret. And now the whole of the internet has an idea that you were sleeping with somebody else's boyfriend, while you had your own. Shivering, still with tears in your eyes you look at your phone and try not to cry.

You breathe in and out calming yourself down, trying not to dsiplay emotions on your face. "Mark isn't gonna kill you. He won't get mad. You're okay, okay? Don't cry," You repeat over and over earning cryptic looks from the uber driver. But you could care less about that. Right now your mind is on the floating pictures all around social media with your best friend (the same person who released the pictures) Ryujin's caption:

Since you like meddling in people's relationships so much- why not spill a couple of your secrets too </3 Bitch who slept with my man.

Actually it's by grace, chance, luck that you and Mark stayed together. After finding out you were pregnant, some weeks passed and you both came clean to your parents. Mark was always there despite your anger, but lowkey even if you never said it out loud you were happy to always have him even in your roughest of moments. And right now, you hope that he can be understanding.

You don't want to hurt him. You don't want to break his trust. You don't even know why you kept meeting up with Jaemin when everything was just so perfect with Mark.

Paying the driver, getting out the car and stepping onto the porch of the new house Mark bought a week ago, you sigh out when seeing all the lights closed.

Walking up the drive way and using your key to open the doors, you pray in your head that Mark is sleeping.

Locking the doors, you make your way, tip toeing through the hallway to the living room and passed the kitchen... where Mark is seated while gripping tightly onto his phone and covering his mouth tightly.

"Mark..."

"Wait, I'm getting to the best part," Mark holds his finger up with a disheartened smile on his face and a dry forced laugh leaving his lips. "He said, can you come over and then you said, my boyfriend's out, why don't you come over. And he responds with a giggling emoji saying what about your son, and you..." Mark huffs and bites on his lip shutting his eyes tightly.

When he opens them again, his clear eyes coat with glossiness. But he let's out another laugh. It sounds painful, heartbreaking and sad. You can only gulp your own lump.

"You said," Mark laughs lightly continuing to read on his phone. "You said his dad and him both went for a sleep over at his parents house. Come over... I'm... I'm lonely. I need you in me." Mark's face scrunches up in bitterness but a forged and forced smile stiffly remains. "He sent emojis, dirty ones. He sent a pic. You sent a pic. And then. You ask him to send the...pictures he took of you."

Mark can't help it, when the smile refuses to remain on his face and he simply bites on his quivering lip covering his eyes.

This time when his voice comes out, it's barely above a whisper, but you can still hear. Even worse because you can hear the pain laced in each and every deep rooted word he says. "Pictures in our room. On our bed. I bought this house last week, and you already invited him in? For how long?" He can't even speak anymore as the words choke up on his throat. "You said I was crazy,"

"Mark please," You quietly step into the kitchen with prayer hands while shaking your head and the tears making your vision blurry.

"You said I was crazy for even thinking it- but I saw the way you looked at him, the way you looked at my sister's lover." Mark breathes out again, a broken chuckle leaving his lips.

The guilt can't grow any higher then it is. You and Mark's adopted sister were always close since school- and when she introduced you to Mark you grew into an even stronger and tighter bond with her. So it doesn't make sense how you not only broke Mark's heart, but you broke Ryujin's trust as well.

"You didn't even have the fucking guts to tell me yourself? I'm guessing you broke it off tonight because you got caught in HD 4K - and you think you can talk your way into my arms right?"

His breathless laugh spreads in the quiet kitchen as he looks up with his eyes as glossy as ever. A vein poking on his forehead.

"You think you can talk your way into my arms because I'm such a nice guy right?" Mark sniffs and uses his back arm to wipe his eyes. "I need to get out of here-"

"Mark please don't go-" The tears slip quietly from your eyes while you hold onto him- your arms circling around his waist. "Please, I promise it's over. I didn't mean it baby, I love-"

"I can't even ask you if it's true, because it's everywhere." He smiles tightly breaking free from your hug and moving back to the counter. "But I'm still gonna ask you this, when were you gonna tell me?"

You try to move forward again yet he slams his fist against the counter. "Just fucking answer the question- don't touch me. Just answer it. When were you gonna tell me?"

"I promise Mark, I was gonna tell you," You pucker your trembling lips, your face breaking into an ugly cry just as you see his own tears coating his eyes again.

His eyes are on yours just for a second before he shakes his head and looks away. He sniffs and buries his face deep in his hands. "You wanna know what's worse?" He cries, but it morbidly turns into a laugh. He panes his gaze towards you, with the most broken look you've ever seen from Him. "These messages..." He covers his face before looking at you, his glossy eyes staring into your own guilty soul. "They date back to 4 years ago. You've been..." His eyes shut as the words fall out inaudibly. "Ryujin is my sister, your best friend. And you slept with him. I don't even know why I'm even believing and trusting in you when the pictures of your nudes are everywhere on my feed-"

"Mark," You words choke up as you take a step... stopping a few inches from him.

"Can you at least answer me why you did it?"

You shake your head taking another hesitant step- but immediately retreat when he sharply spins and punches the top drawers and cabinets. "Mark stop- please stop! Ethan is sleeping lets not wake him up-"

"Ethan?" Mark has to calm himself down, as he feels his emotions suffocating him. "You're going to think of Ethan now after you've just slept with another man? Fucked him for 4 fucking years behind my back and didn't have the slightest bit of remorse or even shame when sending your body- letting him take pictures of you bare and fucking you in my bed where I sleep with you, in our house-"

"I never meant for it-"

"Don't touch me, I can't-" He cuts himself off leaning over the counter only showing his back. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," His curses so low. "We've been together for 9 years Y/n," His face scrunches and he bites on his lip. "And you chose to do this now? What happened? Speak to me. I need to hear your voice, please tell me that I really I am going crazy- that it's a fucking prank- because my stupid mind, body and soul refuses to believe that you cheated on me,"

He turns around and you move forward hugging him even as he pushes you off- you still attach your arms around him before trying to hold onto his hands. You try to pipe up trying to fight back on your own blurry eyes. "Mark I broke it off please don't-"

"Broke it off? Are you sure? Because the pictures of tonight, and the- the texts of your slutty conversation- the graphical back and forth nudes you've been sending- all those pictures are on the internet- everywhere- and you're telling me you broke it off? You're dressed like that and are smiling in every picture with him and you're telling me you broke it off?"

His eyes are in shock, there's sadness in his eyes. Mark who never cries looks like he's at his last straw before the tears would start rushing down. It doesn't even help that seeing you right now only takes you back to the images of tonight and how you looked like you were enjoying the feels of the man's hands being all over your body all those times.

When you left this morning, your attire of an open back- black long fitting dress with a dangerously high slit- didn't bother him. However now, after the pictures he saw of that same dress in a restaurant whereby you were smiling and confidently chatting with another man- that same dress that the man couldn't keep his hands off your legs- made his body quake with anger.

You cry and beg. "Mark please understand, it's over please just forget it. I'm sorry-"

"Online they're saying I'm insecure just because I've got a fine fucking woman, who's enjoying her life while the dad is at home with the child," Mark's lips rattle as he shakes his head in disbelief. "I bet you if the roles were reversed, if I went out there and fucked another woman while you were here with our child- you wouldn't even spare a moment to listen- you'd tell me everything that I've done wrong- you'd never forget, but now because it's you- I should be understanding? Okay? I should be... Cool with it all- that my fucking girlfriend is now accessible to anybody's viewing if they just type in your name right? I'm supposed to not make a fuss because I'm suddenly insecure that my girlfriend can go out, bag some guys, drink and party like she has no family."

You can't hold your tears anymore as they pour out your eyes, your tone in shreds as you stummer out. "Mark I love you so much, I would never-"

His eyes in sharp disbelief peer into your own remorseful eyes. "Don't even lie to me, I'm not fucking naïve!" It's starts with him thrusting his arm far back and throwing his phone against the wall breaking it into millions of pieces just like his heart- before his emotions run wild and he hits on the cabinets. "You don't fucking love me! You don't!" When he picks up the stool and thrashes it against the drawers breaking it- you step back in tears knowing that he's at his peak of anger.

"If you loved me you wouldn't have gone out there!" His voice broken with tears, broken with anger. He hammers the toaster on the floor. Knocks over the trays holding the glasses. "Behind my back! You fucking bitch! Do you even know how much we've suffered to be together!? My house! On my bed! With another man! You don't love me! How could you even! You fucking bitch do you even know how much I love you!?"

Pounds on the cabinets, still yelling his heart out making you cry as you back up. "Mark I'm sorry-"

Thuds, punches, slams against the counter, the glass cabinets. "Does any of this even matter to you?!"

"Mark Ethan-"

"4 years! Fucking 4 years Y/n!? Even you! You let him touch you for 4 years! You let him take my place for 4 years! FUCK!" Mark can't even hear- and when he breaks the glasses in one angry whip he furiously turns to you. "My parents made me chose between you and them and I fucking chose you- they didn't kick me out- I walked out of them because of you. And this is what you do? Y/n not even tw-two years? 4 years!?"

Mark grunts loudly and runs his hand over his head while looking at you. "You told the whole world how you brought a man into our bed?" The tears of anger sprawl out all over his face before he corners you against the wall. "How will you even explain to Ethan the pain you put me through? The embarrassment you put our family through? The shame- we were your legacy! We are your legacy! We fucking became family and then you-! You are my love! 4 years!"

Mark can't control himself anymore. Not wanting to hurt her as she's crying- he balls his fists and storms out the house.

Ethan, worried, anxious, shocked, sad and scared, crouches on the bottom stairs looking as his dad slams the door shut after he leaves. Too afraid to enter the kitchen with his wailing mother, he goes up the stairs quietly, gets under his covers and tries to sleep.

22 Hours after...

Your leg is shivering and bouncing up and down as you stare at your phone. Your tears still stinging your eyes. You messed up. You admit that you've messed up. That you possibly destroyed one for the best relationships you could ever ask for. You cried non stop the whole night in the kitchen, you couldn't even be quiet about it. The kitchen was in shreds with glass and broken objects everywhere. You couldn't even blame Mark for getting angry the way he did.

You felt so guilty and his reaction only made you feel even more guilty. You tried calling him, but remembered how he broke his phone. You tried calling Haechan and begged him to help you- he was just as pissed off at you the way Mark and his friends (Chenle and Jeno) were. But you still begged.

When morning came, you tried to compose yourself as you helped out a quiet Ethan get ready for school. You walked with him to school and came back home with the idea to start cleaning. You ignored all of Jaemin's calls and even blocked his number. You were also afraid to answer any of your other friends who would obviously call you out on your stupid behavior. You just cleaned with your head clouded and jumbled with thoughts.

It's not when Ethan came home by himself did you find yourself in the living room, your leg bouncing as you stared at your phone. Ethan wanted to talk with his dad. And you just told him to change out of his school uniform and that by the time he came down, he'd talk to his dad.

But up till now, looking at the message that was sent to Haechan, you hold in your lips together as you sniff. You know he's found Mark. If he hadn't he would've called you. But since he's not calling, you know Mark's safe.

But none the less after you sent the message that you wanted to speak to Mark, you knew that that kind of approach wouldn't work.

So you type out:

Ethan quietly comes up next to you with a saddened face and his hands together. You don't even know what to say except having your tears coat your eyes. Mark was right. How would you even begin to explain to him? And judging with how everything went down, you know that he most likely heard Mark's burst of anger and all the words that came out of him.

Please Haechan, Ethan wants to talk to his dad

Please, just this once help me out.

Before you can even open your mouth, your phone rings and you instantly pick it up. Your eyes double take on the contact and you gulp.

Mark's mother.

You compose yourself and lick your dry lips as you try not to cry. When you place the phone to your ear, you expect to hear his mother but... "Ethan?" Mark's voice.

You place the phone on speaker and turn to Ethan, signaling him that it's okay to talk. And he does, but his words are so heart quenching that you have to look away. "Dad," He chokes up on his tears and sniffs. "It hurts, badly."

"What hurts so bad my son?"

"My heart," He whimpers out. "I know I said my place is to be the man of the house, but I can't do it dad. I can't be the man dad,"

Mark over the phone can be heard breathing in and you can tell he's shaking his head in sadness. He tries to sound upbeat, but the words themselves aren't linking to how he wants to sound. "No buddy, don't apologize to me. It's me who was at fault, I'm sorry bud, I'm so sorry," Mark's voice is fragile, and you can hear how heavy they are. "Daddy didn't mean to lose his temper and break everything."

Ethan sniffs again and he hiccups. "Are you and mum gonna get a divorce? My friends said that when his parents broke up he started living with his mum, but dad I don't want you to leave. I don't want to be the man of the house, dad please don't leave mum, dad please come back, dad-"

"Darling put your mother on the phone." The stern yet smooth voice belonging to Mark's mother catches you off guard.

"Yes ma'am?" You answer timidly trying to hold onto Ethan as he runs away from you hiding his tears.

"I've got 3 questions to ask you. Do you want to be with my son?" She asks off the bat.

"Yes ma'am." Your spine becomes straight as if she's right in front of you. "I love-"

"Are you willing to give Ethan up if per say you and my son had to breakup?"

"Ma'am please-"

"Are you willing to give Ethan up?" She asks more precisely. "Yes or no?"

"No, I can't-"

"What are you last words to my son?"

Your heart falls. The color fades from your face as though all the life you once had has been sucked out. "Ma'am please don't do this, I love him-"

"4 years is a long time and frankly, you put my son through a lot with your behavior and attitude. So it's either you say your last words, or I cut the call." Stiff and solidly cold is her tone to you as you cry. "You are not fit to be his anymore. You don't deserve my son-"

You hiccup, your eyes swelling up from how much you've cried. "Can I talk to him? Can I please just talk to him-"

"No."

Even before the call to cut, you can feel it in your soul. You can feel just how it painful, how it hurts and you can feel how your whole being burns.

-fin

Part 2: It burns: The second time around

[yomawari]

Sketches from the President/Vice President Jefferson era of my modern Jamilton AU, featuring John Adams and my attempts to give Alexander a modern hairstyle without just copying LMM.

I spent some time thinking about Jamilton and Adams while sketching, which I put under the cut because I tend to be very long-winded and my mind went to some odd places.

I find Hamilton's portrayal of Thomas Jefferson's friendship with John Adams interesting when it is examined purely in the confines of the musical and outside any historical context.

I think there are only two references to Thomas Jefferson and John Adams' personal relationship in the entirety of Hamilton:

In the cut version of the The Adams Administration, Hamilton tells Adams to "Say, 'Hi', to the Jeffersons!"

In the Election of 1800, which was historically near the height of the Jefferson-Adams feud, Jefferson says that, "John Adams shat the bed. I love the guy, but he's in traction."

Both lines imply a close, positive relationship between the two characters (and the latter line also informs the audience that Adam's will not be running for re-election because his political career crashed and burned). That's it. There is no clear evidence of the historic Jefferson-Adams feud and broken friendship within the musical, which makes sense since Hamilton is telling the story of Alexander Hamilton but has an interesting consequence: in Hamilton cannon, given the positive statements in the two songs, one can argue that Thomas and John's friendship survives the Washington and Adams administrations.

I mean this was clearly not intended, and I am definitely reading too much into things, but I find the idea really interesting--especially how it impacts any romantic relationship between Alexander and Thomas.

Alexander and John are the two leaders of the Federalist Party; yet, Thomas likes John in spite of their differences while initially being antagonistic towards Alexander. I absolutely believe that Alexander would be jealous of John and his friendship with Thomas. Especially during the early stages of his and Thomas' romantic relationship, Alexander's inferiority complex would arguably give him yet another reason to hate John Adams and cause some unnecessary relationship drama. Meanwhile, Thomas' friendship with John would help Thomas move past his political differences with Alexander in order to pursue a relationship and cause some tension given the John-Alexander feud.

The possibilities for conflict are further fed in a modern political Jamilton AU. It's been a long time since I studied the era, but I remember that one reason why Adams' vice presidency went so poorly is that Adams was not part of Washington's inner circle and the Vice President's authority was pretty limited at the time, so it certainly seemed like Adams didn't "have a real job anyway."

In a modern AU, however, that is not the case. George would have chosen John as his running mate. The Vice President is a vital part of the Presidential administration and has far more authority than in the late 1700s. The Vice President is now constitutionally part of the Cabinet and, in fact, presides over the Cabinet in the President's absence. George couldn't sideline John as much as he historically did, even if he (or Alexander) tried. Given the Thomas-John friendship and John-Alexander enmity, I think John's increased authority and participation in the Washington Administration would have very interesting consequences on the Jamilton rivalry/relationship.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

'DON'T BLAME ME, [PART TWO]

-GOTHAM!JERVIS TETCH X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; You meet the man from the club again.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!jervis x female reader. SLOW BURN!!! Not sure how many chapters this will be yet! LOTS OF PLOT SET-UP!! AGE GAP ROMANCE! (reader is Jim and Barbara's daughter) Jervis and reader are lowkey Hamilton and Burr parallels. She fell first, he fell harder. Writing this kind of artistically and as character studies for everyone. Reader's still reminiscing. Daddy issues. Jervis being an obsessive freak, per usual. More reader lore is dropped. I'm taking canon out back and beating it with a stick until it stops twitching. Jim Gordon is...Jim Gordoning.

⋆ tag list (tell me if you want to be removed!) @adalwolfgang @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @honestmrdual @moonlightnyx

⋆ 'PART ONE, - 'PART TWO, - ‘PART THREE, - ‘PART FOUR, - ‘PART FIVE, - ‘PART SIX, - 'PART SEVEN, - 'PART EIGHT, - 'PART NINE, -'PART TEN, - 'PART ELEVEN, - 'PART TWELVE, - 'PART THIRTEEN, - 'PART FOURTEEN,

♫ “Something happened for the first time, in the darkest little paradise.” Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

Everything feels cold on mornings like these.

The light bleeds in through the venetian blinds, gray and gloomy. You huddle into the blankets, clinging to any warmth you can find. It's your dads house, or rather, apartment. You remember waking up in a king-sized bed years prior.

Your thoughts drift back to old memories again. You wish you could push them out.

"Dad, I'm scared." You say, seven years old, middle of the night, clutching a rabbit stuffed animal. Your mom rubs her face, still groggy and half-awake.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." He whispers through his own fatigue, stretching out his arms for you to join them on the bed. "Why are you scared?"

You hop on the bed, crawling into him. Your mother tosses, turning over with a lazy hum before drifting back to sleep. You squeeze your rabbit, Mr. Marbles, and bury yourself in the covers.

"What if they get me?" You ask, voice small. You can't see your fathers eyes soften through the darkness.

"Who?" He seems to sober up from sleep at your question, clearing his throat. His voice becomes a bit clearer.

"The bad guys." You say the words like they're sacred. It feels hard to get them out, and it feels swallowing salt-water.

Silence.

"I won't let them, I swear to you." Your dads voice speaks, and in his arms, you feel sleep slowly return to you. "I'm gonna protect you. And mommy."

"What about you?"

Silence.

"Go to sleep, Y/N. Everything's going to be okay."

You fell asleep that night, quiet, waking up to pancakes, and light that was much warmer than what you have now.

You sit up in your own bed, cramped. You heave a sigh, rubbing your temples. You're not tired like you should be. You stayed up the previous night, jumping roof-tops with Selina. It was a welcome distraction, the adrenaline that pooled in your blood at night. Mornings in Gotham were worse.

You hear whispers in the room over. Thin walls. You don't care to listen as you get dressed, but you do wonder who exactly your father could be talking too.

"How'd you find me?"

"Oh, you're famous, sir. You're names in the papers. The famous bounty hunter." You wince. Jim Gordon. Your father. The bounty hunter.

You walk to the room quietly, before stopping. You see the two men sitting down, and you piece together just who exactly is on the couch.

Both men turn to face you at the interruption, and Mr. Tetch looks equally as surprised as you are. His eyebrows pull together, and your dad looks like he's been caught doing something. He knows you don't approve of this bounty hunter bullshit.

"Ms. Y/N?" Mr. Tetch calls, and Jim picks his head up at this. He gives you a look.

"You two have met...?" Your dad speaks, sizing up the situation in concerned curiosity.

Before you can answer, Mr. Tetch does for you.

"Yes, sir. We've met at the Siren's club. Your daughter, I presume?" He asks, inquisitively. He looks as though gears are turning in his head. Jim simply nods, a bit uncertainly.

"Hi." You give a small wave. Mr. Tetch brightens up at this, somehow fascinated.

"Right." Jim says, slowly. He looks back between the two of you.

That familiar feeling of silence sounds out again. It tastes bitter.

"...I want you to find my dear friend." Mr. Tetch speaks up. "We're very close. But...her condition proved too much for me. I sought help, the worst kind, the fiend. Professor Strange." He hisses the insult with venom. You watch your dad raise a brow as he sips his coffee.

"Her condition?" He asks, and you marvel at the words. How odd.

"Some poison, in her blood." The man responds, like it's casual. "very rare, unique, in fact. He took her in. Said she needed constant supervision. He wouldn't let me see her."

There's an edge to his voice. The way he talks about this friend of his. Poisoned blood, you think, curious. For some reason it embitters you. You hate this fucking city sometimes.

"You go to the police?" Your dad asks. Of course he'd ask that.

"Useless." Mr. Tetch says, solemnly. "This is Gotham, after all."

You let out a soft chuckle at that, which makes both of them look at you. Both sets of eyes zone in on you. Your dad looks disappointed.

"Well, he's not wrong." You nip, and Mr. Tetch cocks his head up. "The GCPD is a shit show."

Mr. Tetch looks surprised at your audacity, and a bit amused. Your father reprimands you.

"Y/N." He says, and you bite back a retort. He sighs, dragging a hand along his face. "Indian Hill escapees get five grand from the GCPD. You able to top that?"

You remember when all the money in the world couldn't have swayed the famous Jim Gordon from his duty.

Mr. Tetch pulls out a wide wad of cash from his pocket, "I'll double it." He speaks. Woah. Did your mom give him that much for just one show? No way in hell. He must have gotten this money somewhere else.

"I'll see what I can do." Jim says, without question. You want to roll your eyes.

"Thank you, very much." The man responds. Polite, isn't he?

You watch as your dad pockets the money, and how he's handed a photo of a beautiful woman. In a strange way, it makes you feel a bit insecure.

"Leave your number-" Jim goes to speak, when Mr. Tetch interrupts him, handing a business card. Eager much.

The man leaves without a word, sending you a final glance before he turns. Those dark eyes...they startle you. He sends a small, intrigued smile. Again, it feels like the world stops. Your breath catches in your throat.

When he's gone, you stand on your toes to hover over your dads shoulder. You two stare at the business card in synonymous silence.

"The Great Jervis Tetch" Hah. So that's his first name. Jervis.

You suddenly feel warm. Maybe this house isn't that cold after all.

[royallyprincesslilly]

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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[meraki-yao]

So RWRB is basically part of my identity now, I can't remember how many times I've seen the movie, and I'm on a constant quest of getting my friends to watch it too. And it's working!

But the thing is, my own younger sister, who's my literal best friend, the closest person to me, hasn't.

Her only exposure to the movie is coming in to my room on premiere night when I was watching it for the first time and tagging along for like ten minutes then leaving, coming into my room when I'm watching clips and watching along for a bit until I give her attention (she's like a cat) and hearing/seeing me very passionately rambling about it either on social media or out loud

She's not interested in romance like, at all, so this isn't her cup of tea, and I'm not gonna force her to watch something she's not interested in.

However out of curiosity, I asked how much she knows/remembers about rwrb from what little exposure she had. She started rattling off points that made me laugh deliriously, then asked if she could type it down.

So here's rwrb according to my sister, who has never finished the movie, nor read the book (she literally typed the list below herself which is why it's in first person)

enjoy! :D

henry's a prince and alex is fsotus

they met before once but it did not go well?

Henry and Alex see each other at a wedding and a big ass cake falls over

they pretend to be friends cuz PR

they text and/or email each other a lot

there's a children's hospital??? and they cram into a room???

there's a dog called David

turkeys in alex's room cuz thanksgiving

also sth sth insomnia

ok not a plot point but i rlly like how them texting was presented

henry's dad is an actor and he's dead

henry has a sister, she's nice

i rmb the name zara but i forgot what she specifically does (I'm so sorry)

new year's party. dramatic eye contact.

'oh I'm not going to sing karaoke' 'BURNING THROUGH THE SKYYYY YEA, 200 DEGREES THAT'S WHY THEY CALL ME MR FAHRENHEIT, I'M TRAVELLING AT THE SPEED OF LIGHTTTTTTT, I'LL MAKE A SUPERSONIC MAN OUT OF YOU'

the room with red wallpapers and alexander hamilton, 'the book is very bookish', f in chat for security lady

henry walks out of the closet literally

there's this grey(?) room with a white marble statue and it was very emotional???

henry's a sad boi

i think they fucked or sth

also there was a lake?

the emails get leaked on reddit by this reporter dude (who i think Alex knows before???) during the election

alex gives a speech

alex's mom wins the election

henry wore a yellow tie or sth because texas???

a pride parade outside the palace???

at least in the movie they go to a house or sth

deleted scene but they were next to a campfire and henry was talking and sad and alex was listening

ok Meraki back hope you enjoyed that lmao

if you have a favourite out of this list or have any message you want to tell my sister about the movie leave them in the notes lol she kinda wants to know what yall think of her recall