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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year

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Title: Love Will Remember {One Shot}

Title: Love Will Remember {One-Shot}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Words: 13.5k

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

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

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

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

As always, thank you for reading.

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

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~

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

"Saw what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You said..."

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

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

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

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

"Don’t. Don’t do that. It’s unfair."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Get a grip, Y/N."

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

Lewis,

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

-Y/N

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

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Two and ½ Years Later-

-Lewis-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ooooooh!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck! Is she okay?"

"I can't tell," Miles replied.

"Shit."

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

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

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

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

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

He sighed then shook his head.

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

"Fuck!”

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

"That player should never play again!"

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

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

He nodded then shook his hand.

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

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

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

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

"Isn't she hurt."

"She is. What is she doing?"

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

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

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

"Pack it up!”

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

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

"Big mistake!”

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

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

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

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

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

"She's a beast!"

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

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

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

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

"Let's go."

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

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

“Hi.”

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

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

“Can we talk about that hit?”

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

“Did you see it coming?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look spectacular. Give us a spin.”

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

“Wow. You clean up well.”

You laughed then fanned her off.

“Thank you.”

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

“Looks like I’m needed. Thank you.”

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

“If it isn’t the MVP of the night.”

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

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

“How are you holding up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, sure.”

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

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

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

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

“Like what?”

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

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

“Eh-em.”

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

“Ah!”

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

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, thank you…I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Babygirl.”

~~~~~~~~

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

“I've got it from here. You can go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clatter followed then several voices.

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

“Take it outside!”

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

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

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

“She’s panicking. Sedative.”

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

~~~~~~~~~

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were grateful because you were downright exhausted.

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

“Hey there gorgeous.”

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

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

He chuckled and placed the flowers on your bedside table.

“For you.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than bad, worse than great.”

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

“What?”

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

You froze.

“You had to know.”

You remained silent.

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

“I love you, Lewis.”

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

“Y/N?”

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

“You had to know.”

“I—I didn’t. not really.”

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

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

“Do you feel anything for me?”

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

“Wow,” Tyrone said.

“Ty, I think you’re great.”

“Aw man.”

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

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

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

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

He smiled while keeping his eyes on you.

“Jasmine and Gardenias still your favorite flowers?”

“You know each other?”

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

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

“Wow. Wow, woooow. I see.”

“Ty, it’s not like that.”

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

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

“Thank you, Ty.”

He nodded. “I’ll call you.”

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

“Bye Ty,” Lewis taunted.

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

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

“How do you feel?”

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

“Fine,” you lied.

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

There it was. Confirmation.

“Why do you know that?”

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

“Thanks for the flowers, you should go.”

“Why don’t want to see me?”

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

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

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

His brow flicked up as his mouth screwed.

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

Lewis scoffed and shook his head.

“I might deserve that.”

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

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

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

“Y/N—.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t—Don’t touch—me!”

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

“G—g—ge—get out!”

“No. Talk to me, Y/N.”

“Get out!”

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

~~~~~~~~~

-Two Weeks Later-

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“Reese.”

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

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

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

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

Just then your belly rumbled giving him the answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never--.”

“Stop Lewis. What do you want?”

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

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

“Same here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on Y/N,” Lewis pleaded.

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

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

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

“After 3 years?”

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

“Hear me out—please.”

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

“I can manage.”

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

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

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

“Mmm.”

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

Your eyes met.

“If you still want that then yes.”

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

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

“Thought you gave it up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

Again you laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

“I love you!”

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

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

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

“Bullshit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you still love me, Y/N?”

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

“Y/N--,” Lewis croaked.

“Nothing has changed.”

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

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

“3 years too late.”

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

“Lewis--.”

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

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

“Do you love me?”

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

“You’re lying. I can see it.”

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

“You have to leave. Go.”

“Y/N.”

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

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

“Lewis--.”

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

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

Heart or head, Y/N?

~~~~~~~~~~

-Two Years Later-

“Y/N. Y/N, Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So Lewis has been helping you?”

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

“Is he here now?”

“He’s here somewhere.”

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

“There he is.”

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

“Congratulations, princess.”

“Thank you.”

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

“Mmm.”

“Eh-Em.”

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

“Sorry,” you said.

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

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

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

“Congratulations on the wedding by the way.”

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

“Very!”

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

Lewis chuckled then shrugged. “Love?”

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

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

You smiled wide and nodded.

“You’re messing with me.”

“No.”

“Y/N. Are you serious? You’re--.”

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

“Oh my god. Wow!”

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

“For real, for real?”

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

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

“I love you so fucking much.”

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

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

“Oh sweet talker.

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

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

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

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

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

“You tell me, Sir Hamilton.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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xdacted · 6 months

Text

The theory of goodbyes

Pairing: Reader x Pierre Gasly

Warnings: emotional cheating, angst, hurt/no comfort, reunions

Word Count: 2,544

Status: Completed

Pierre was terribly bored.

His head pounding with the music that blared over the speaker, struggling to breathe in the crowded mess of the gymnasium. Sweat beads along his hairline, and he collapses in a nearby seat, raising a hand to protect his eyes from the strobing lights. He tries to take in the room, silver balloons that float above a floral archway and his former schoolmates cluster around the dancefloor. Truly, he can’t decide what he regrets most coming to the reunion or coming without Charles for support. He invited Kika, but she was swallowed in the pack, lost to other girls pulling each other apart to know, “How are you?! Let’s get lunch!”

Pierre can’t fight an eye roll, downing the rest of the burning liquid that someone had offered him - they were never friends, but Pierre assumes that they must have been friendly enough as he had taken it with a grateful nod. Racing and karting pulled him away from school far too often to ever develop lasting relationships. There was no one like that except Antoine and well -

He shakes the thoughts from his head before they can even form.

He looks around him, staring back at the old gymnasium. He’d never really been forced to be in here, never forced to drag his feet across the polished wooden floors. The walls stand tall, banners hanging from the pins in the brick announcing years of their athletic excellence.

The school mascot is painted across the center of the walls, and Pierre doesn’t stop the feelings of pride that swell within him. His days are long gone but never forgotten. They live within him, hovering just beneath his skin, something akin to a different life. A life that was filled to the brim with freedom and carelessness. When he was able -

A cackle pulls him back to himself and he sits a little straighter. He blinks, the lights passing over his face. Pierre adjusts the thin chair below him, scooting closer to the road table with a squeak of protest. Setting his elbow on the cloth, he reaches down to adjust his shoe, tight around his ankles - he just wants to go home.

But before he can commit to pushing himself up from the lone table, he sees someone through the sea of people. Sunken in her chair, legs crossed before her, she sits with an uninterested expression. To Pierre, she is the most interesting person he’s seen all night. The light dances upon her face, and he can see the line of her cheekbones and the curve of her lips. Her hair curls away from her face, coils bouncing when she runs her head. In the darkness, he can see the glimmers of rings on her fingers as they drum mindlessly against the table.

Pierre can feel the air leaving his body, mouth going dry. He stares, burning a hole through the throng of dancers.

It can’t be. She couldn’t be -

He tries to blink, but when he opens his eyes once more, she’s gone. The small window of nostalgia collapses, filled by the bodies of strangers.

Pierre doesn’t feel himself standing, craning his neck over the crown. He steadies himself on the table, raising on the tops of his toes, an ache running up his calf. Silently, he adjusts the chair, raising a leg to rest upon it, fingers gripping the back before he stops himself.

What was he doing?

Foot dropping back to the floor, hands going limp at his sides, he can’t believe himself. He was about to make a fool of himself and to what? For a girl that probably doesn’t even remember him?

He flicks his empty cup. What kind of loser has he become?

Pierre was never reckless. Never this indulgent, cameras could be anywhere, everywhere. He shakes his head, he had Kika anyway. What was the point of reminiscing over a high school -

He sees her again.

Only this time, she sees him too. Her eyes fixated upon him, an unreadable look on her face. Something twists in his gut, heart pounding in his rings.

She is just as beautiful as he remembers.

He whispers her name, voice swallowed by the music.

It’s a secret, a declaration to the world, whispered to the timber of the gymnasium, to the steel of the basketball hoops. Before Pierre can stop himself, he’s walking. Parting through the sea of reality, ducking beneath hands, waving off conversation. With every step, he pulls himself under, below his skin, drifting back to the world long dead.

He stands before her.

A breathing memory. Looking up at him with her crooked smile, he can see the way that time has sculpted her clearer now. Carving her cheeks, her chin, hardening the lines of her eyes, darkening the color of her hair.

Beautiful.

Absolutely beautiful.

“You got a haircut,” her words startled him, a shiver running down his spine.

“I did,” He swallows, trying to calm the pounding of his heart as it threatens to burst from his ribcage, “You - uh - your hair is different too.”

She lets out a soft chuckle, a hand coming up to hold at a strand of hair, “I did.”

Pierre opens his mouth to speak, but the words are trapped in his throat, too much he wants to tell her. Too much he needs to tell her. His hands busy himself with the ends of his blazer, picking at a loose thread.

A stutter on his lips, she grabs at his hand, stopping his fingers in their movement.

“Sorry…just, we wouldn't want to ruin your fancy jacket.”

He stares down at her hand. Rings prenup at him, and he catches sight of her class ring.

A Pierre’s class ring.

She pulls her hand back with a sharp breath, blinking rapidly, almost as if she’s been burned, “Sorry.”

Don’t go, he doesn’t say.

He shrugs instead.

Silence pool covers them, and he thinks, he doesn’t want this conversation to end. He doesn’t want to walk back to reality. He gently nudges her crossed legs with his show, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, “Do you - uh…”He turns to the overcrowded dance floors, “...wanna…?”

He offers her a hand, and she takes it. He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, his heart leaping up his throat. He waits for her to slide her jacket off, pulling it over the fabric of her turtleneck.

As they walk, sidestepping pulled-out chairs and maneuvering the in-betweens of tables, they don't speak. They don’t look at one another. Just walking until they reach the edge of the crowd. He turns to her, and the song around them slows, it’s a mellow tune. Something about love and about forever, but Pierre couldn't care less.

“You know I’m a terrible dancer,” She groans, stepping towards him.

All Pierre can do is stifle a chuckle with the back of his hand. She sends him a glare with no real malice, a smile pulling at her lips, “What?”

She gently shoves him with her shoulder, “Is something funny to you, Jean-Jacques?”

Jean-Jacques. He hasn’t heard his middle name uttered in a long time. He hates the way it makes him sound like a round-bellied aristocrat, but he desperately wants to hear her call him that again. Because she’s the only one that can, he’s her ‘Jean-Jacques.’ And only Jean-Jacques.

He shakes his head with a shrug, “Nothing, nothing.”

They settle with each other, finding an open space behind strangers. They’re hidden in bodies, encased in the music that blares over them. Pierre puts a hand on her waist and takes her hand in his. She looks up at him, she is tentative to step closer, but she does. With her so close, her name sits upon his tongue. He hasn’t spoken it in years, the very sound of it painful.

He mutters it like a prayer

She hums, never breaking eye contact, lights dancing on her skin. Pierre has forgotten his headache, he’s forgotten his boredom, his readiness to leave. He never wants to leave this place. Not now. Not when she’s here. They’re both trapped, stuck between reality and what they want. He can see it, he can feel it. He can -

“How’ve you been?”

The question creates a painful space between them.

“Good,” He lies, “I’ve been good. You?”

She nods along, “I’ve been good too,” the tips of her ears begin to glow red, the way they do when she lies, “I’ve been great, actually.”

She turns away, staring into the distance, “You made it to Formula One.”

Pierre winces, her words burn.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Was it worth it?”

There's a waver in her voice, and it grows thick with emotion. Pierre closes his eyes with a sigh, leaning his head against the pole behind him. It was and it never will be. He has a career that he excels in, all the money he could ever want, and his parents couldn’t be prouder. But he’s - he’s always known that something was missing. A feeling. A light, something to keep him afloat.

“No,” He breathes.

She looks at him, her eyes wide and full of emotion. She doesn't look angry, she just looks sad.

“Did you ever go to med school?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it worth it?”

She pauses for a moment, taking her lip between her teeth, “I’m not sure.”

He can hear her unsaid sentence, the only thing stopping the onslaught of relief is the wave of shame he feels. He wants to be happy for her, he wants for her to have everything she ever dreamed of.

But with him.

He wanted her to have it with him.

He hates his selfishness. Hates that he hasn’t changed a bit since they were in school. Ready to ask her to give up her dreams to follow him around the world. Unable to understand why that would ever be an issue. Love could only justify so much.

Silence bubbles over them. They sway to the distant song that plays, and he holds her close. He worries he’s holding her too tight, but when he tries to pull away, the grip she has on the fabric of his shoulder tells no differently. So he presses her closer still, cheek lying on the crown of her head, her ear pressed against his chest. With them like this, in the walls of their old school, he can almost convince himself he’s sixteen again. He can almost convince himself that she -

“I’ve missed you,” She whispers, her words muttering into the fabric of his button-up shirt, and he nearly misses it.

Her words are almost swallowed by the noise around them. But Pierre hears, saving the words. He feels as if he’s floating, head high in the clouds of their youth. There’s nothing that can hurt them here, nothing they have to go back to.

Nothing is waiting for them outside this moment.

“I’ve missed you too.:

He hopes that she can hear everything he wants to say. Everything she should’ve said all those years ago when their youth could have torn through it all. Everything he should’ve said when he stood on her porch that night, cradling the box of his things she pushed into his chest with a curse of his name. Everything he should’ve said when she begged him not to go, to stay.

To stay with her.

With the regret heavy in his stomach, Pierre tightens his hold on her hand. He’ll hold her here with him now. He’ll keep them together, he won’t let anything pull them apart. He opens his mouth to say something. To tell her while they’re still in the clouds, while they’re still miles away. He’s gripping her hand in his, and he wants nothing more than to pull her closer. Time has been so cruel, it has stolen so much from them, so much life, but he’s here now. And so is she.

They’re here now.

“I -”

“Pierre!” Reality cuts between them, pulling him away. Reality pecks him on the cheek, snaking her hand on his bicep, “I was looking for you!”

Pierre can do nothing but fall apart, closing his eyes with a strained sigh. He can feel them fall back to Earth, the painful crash of time against them once more.

And he feels as if he’s lost her all over again.

“Who’s this?” Kika questions, a bright smile on her face, always kind.

When Pierre doesn’t speak, reeling from the pain of the space that’s wedged between them, she does, introducing herself as, “An old friend.”

Pierre almost laughs, under the weight of reality pressing against him, he can almost burst into tears. Friends. They are so much more than that, they always were, and he always wants them to be.

“Oh!” Kika jostles him, “Yes! Pierre has told me so much about you! I am so glad to finally meet you in person!” Kika’s laughter fills their shattered bubble and she begins to laugh alongside her, stale and empty.

Then, there’s a call of Kika’s name, it pierces the noise of the bass, having filled the dance floor with a pop song, lyrics melting into the background, “It was nice to meet you!”

“You too!”

They watch Kika walk away, with unreadable expressions on both their faces.

He starts, an explanation on his tongue, eyes wide and pleading, “It’s just-”

“I’m glad you found someone, Pierre,” She wrapped her arms around herself, fingered digging into the material of her sweater, a strange look on her face, “I’m happy for you.”

He is inclined to believe her.

“I really am, Pierre.”

His name sounds so cold as it falls from her lips, almost like he’s a stranger, shattering to the ground, he winces. Pierre reaches for her, wanting to feel the warmth around his hands once more, but he pulls away, averting her eyes.

He calls her name, begging for her to listen.

She is doing the right thing.

“You look good together,” Unshed tears brim in her eyes, eyebrows pinched together, a hand pressed against her cheek, “You - you look happy.”

She is saying the right thing, but that doesn’t change the way his heart pounds in his chest.

“I - I,” His words are stuck, lodged behind the lump of emotion. But Pierre isn’t strong enough to fight against reality, not when it presses against their chests

‘I’ll never love anyone the way I loved you, the way you loved me,’ Goes unsaid.

There would never be another her. Never another woman to make Pierre feel whole, never another hand against his to hold in the rain, never eyes to stare into, never another to waste days away with. He will never be sixteen again, and he will never have her again.

An ‘I love you’ nearly comes tumbling out, and the words burn against the roof of his mouth. He can do nothing but breathe, trying to ground himself against the burn of her gaze. She sees right through him, but he can’t hide. He doesn’t want to. She’s the only one he would ever let look straight through.

“Thank you,” Is all he says.

It sounds like goodbye.

“You’re welcome.”

And Pierre knows that it is.

____________________________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

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