#not to sound desperate but she could step on me
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Fake It till We Make It || Hwang Hyunjin
Pairing: Idol Hyunjin X Actress Y/n Genre: Fluff, Fake relationship Summary: You and Hyunjin are paired for a fake relationship to boost your public image, but what happens when fake sparks turn real?
If you have any request for other members or other groups, feel free to do so
The sound of your manager’s voice grated against your nerves, filling the small office space with an energy you couldn’t match today.
“You need this,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Your last movie tanked. The press is calling you ‘forgettable.’ Forgettable! We need to change the narrative.”
You leaned back in the leather chair, rubbing your temples. “And you think dating some idol is the solution? This is my career, not a reality show.”
Your manager’s eyes narrowed. “Not just ‘some idol.’ Hyunjin. From Stray Kids. One of the most talked-about stars right now.”
You frowned. You knew who Hyunjin was—everyone did. The golden boy of the K-pop world, known for his striking looks and graceful dancing. But lately, his name had been splashed across tabloids for all the wrong reasons: rumors of diva behavior, an old controversy that resurfaced out of nowhere, and a supposed feud with another idol.
“Why him?” you asked cautiously.
“Because he’s in hot water, too,” she replied, leaning forward. “His team is desperate to clean up his image, and a sweet, wholesome love story will do the trick for both of you. You’ll be trending for weeks. Cute couple photos, red carpet appearances, a few strategically timed interviews. It’s perfect.”
“Perfectly insane,” you muttered, but your manager ignored you.
“His team is already on board. They think you’re a great match. All you have to do is meet him, sign the NDA, and play the part.”
Before you could argue further, the door opened, and your breath caught in your throat. Hyunjin stepped in, radiating a kind of effortless charm that made your argument falter.
He was tall, dressed in a fitted black turtleneck and an oversized blazer, his hair tied back loosely. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, he looked as uncertain as you felt.
“Hi,” he said, his voice soft but confident. “So... I hear we’re supposed to fall in love.”
You blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. “You’re... okay with this?”
Hyunjin shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Not really. But apparently, this is what we need to survive.”
There was a beat of silence before you sighed, leaning forward. “Alright. Let’s get one thing straight. This is a business arrangement. No feelings, no drama. Just stick to the script, and we’ll both get through this.”
His smirk widened, and he tilted his head. “You make it sound so romantic.”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. This was going to be a long, long ride.
Hyunjin didn’t seem to take anything seriously. At least, that’s how it felt during your first meeting. As the two of you sat across from each other in a dimly lit conference room, discussing the parameters of your “relationship,” his carefree attitude grated on your nerves.
“Let’s start with the basics,” his PR manager said, flipping through a folder. “How did you two meet?”
You opened your mouth to answer, but Hyunjin cut in with a grin. “She saw me at a fan meet, fell in love at first sight, and begged me for my number.”
You blinked at him, unimpressed. “Or” you countered, “we met at an industry party and hit it off after a deep conversation about art and music.”
Hyunjin’s brow arched. “Deep conversation? That’s a little ambitious, don’t you think?”
You resisted the urge to glare. “Well, it’s more believable than me throwing myself at you.”
The PR manager cleared her throat, clearly amused but trying to maintain professionalism. “Let’s meet in the middle. How about you met at a mutual friend’s event? You admired each other’s work, and the connection grew naturally.”
“Fine,” you muttered, avoiding Hyunjin’s amused gaze.
The rest of the meeting was a blur of schedules, photo shoot concepts, and social media strategies. By the time you left, your head was spinning.
“You looked like you were having the time of your life,” Hyunjin teased as he walked you to the door.
You shot him a side-eye. “You’re awfully relaxed about this.”
He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “You get used to it. Pretending is half of what we do anyway.”
The first time you were “spotted” together was at a café, staged to look like a casual date. Cameras clicked from strategic angles as you sipped your latte and pretended to hang on Hyunjin’s every word.
“So,” he said, leaning forward with an easy grin, “do I look like the perfect boyfriend yet?”
You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Do you ever stop joking?”
“Only when I’m asleep.”
Despite your irritation, you couldn’t deny he was good at this. He knew how to angle himself for the cameras, how to flash just the right smile to make every photo look candid.
“You’re surprisingly professional,” you admitted, reluctantly impressed.
“Why, thank you,” he said, feigning a bow. “And you? Not bad for someone who claims to hate this idea.”
You didn’t reply, but his words stayed with you.
The first time you saw the cracks in Hyunjin’s carefree façade was during a late-night rehearsal. You had stopped by the JYP practice room to discuss the next day’s schedule, but the sound of music drew you in.
Hyunjin was alone, his movements fluid yet sharp, his expression focused. He didn’t notice you watching until the song ended and he turned, startled.
“Oh. Hey,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow.
“You’re still here?” you asked, stepping closer.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “Dancing helps.”
There was something vulnerable about him in that moment, something raw and unpolished. You hesitated before speaking. “You’re... really good.”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks. It’s the one thing I know I can do right.
The comment surprised you. For someone who seemed so confident, it was the first time he’d let his insecurities slip through.
“Maybe you’re better at other things than you think,” you said softly, unsure why you felt compelled to comfort him.
He looked at you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Maybe.”
Weeks passed, and the lines between performance and reality began to blur. You spent more time together than apart, attending events, sharing meals, and even rehearsing your “love story” for interviews.
Hyunjin’s teasing became less sharp, and your walls began to lower. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, seeking his opinion on things you never thought to share.
One evening, during a quiet moment on a hotel balcony, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Do you ever think about what happens when this ends?”
The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean... this. Us. Pretending to be something we’re not.”
You hesitated, unsure how to answer. “I try not to think about it. It’s easier that way.”
He nodded, his gaze distant. “Yeah. Me too.”
For the first time, the thought of “the end” left an ache in your chest.
The two of you sat in an unfamiliar green room, waiting for your turn on a late-night talk show. Hyunjin was scrolling on his phone, while you nervously fidgeted with the hem of your dress. The show was known for playful interviews that often led to viral moments.
“You’ll be fine,” Hyunjin said, his tone unusually gentle.
You looked up at him, surprised by his sincerity. “What?”
“You’ve been messing with that dress for the past ten minutes,” he said, nodding toward your hands. “Relax. You’re a natural at this stuff.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Hardly. This whole fake dating thing has me second-guessing everything.”
Hyunjin set his phone down, his expression softening. “Look, just follow my lead. They love us together.”
His confidence was reassuring, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to trust him.
When it was your turn onstage, Hyunjin kept his promise. He answered questions with practiced ease, throwing in playful remarks that made the audience laugh. When the host asked about your “relationship,” Hyunjin reached over to take your hand.
“It’s been amazing,” he said, smiling at you like you were the only person in the room.
For a moment, the world seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you. The warmth of his hand, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled—it felt real.
And that terrified you.
After the show, you found yourselves walking back to the hotel, the cool night air refreshing after hours under studio lights. Hyunjin, still buzzing with energy, suggested a detour.
“There’s this rooftop I go to sometimes,” he said. “The view’s incredible.”
You hesitated but eventually agreed. A short elevator ride later, you were standing atop a quiet rooftop overlooking the city. The lights stretched endlessly, a shimmering sea of color and life.
“Wow,” you murmured, leaning against the railing.
“Right?” Hyunjin joined you, his voice softer now. “It’s one of the few places that makes me feel... small, in a good way.”
You glanced at him, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. “Do you ever miss being just... normal?”
“All the time,” he admitted. “But then I think about the people who believe in me, who find comfort in what I do. That makes it worth it.”
His words resonated with you, and for the first time, you saw past the idol persona. This wasn’t Hyunjin the star—this was just Hyunjin, a young man trying to make sense of his place in the world.
As the two of you stood there, sharing quiet thoughts under the stars, you felt something shift. The lines between what was fake and what was real began to blur even further.
The turning point came during a gala event. You were dressed to the nines, smiling politely as you mingled with industry elites. Hyunjin stayed close, his presence a steadying force.
Then your co-star, Eric, appeared. He was charming and overconfident, and he wasted no time pulling you into a conversation.
Hyunjin, watching from a distance, felt a strange pang in his chest as he saw you laughing at Eric’s jokes. He told himself it was all part of the act—after all, this wasn’t real.
But when Eric leaned in a little too close, Hyunjin found himself walking over.
“Hey,” he said smoothly, slipping an arm around your waist. “Everything okay here?”
You blinked up at him, surprised by his sudden possessiveness. “Yeah, we were just—”
Great,” Hyunjin cut in, his smile tight. “But we should probably get back to the table. They’re about to announce the next award.”
Eric raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. As Hyunjin led you away, his hand lingering at your waist, you couldn’t help but notice the tension in his jaw.
“Was that necessary?” you asked once you were out of earshot.
Hyunjin didn’t meet your eyes. “Probably not.”
You studied him, a flicker of understanding dawning. Was he... jealous?
That night, back at the hotel, you knocked on Hyunjin’s door. He opened it, looking surprised to see you.
“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.
He stepped aside, letting you in. The room was dimly lit, and the atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken words.
“What’s going on?” you asked, crossing your arms. “You’ve been acting... strange.”
Hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” you challenged. “Because it sure seemed like you were about to deck Eric earlier.”
His gaze finally met yours, and for the first time, you saw hesitation there. “I guess I just didn’t like seeing him flirt with you.”
“Why?” you pressed, your heart pounding.
He hesitated, then sighed. “Because maybe this doesn’t feel so fake anymore.”
The confession hung between you, leaving you breathless
Hyunjin’s words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, trying to process what he has just said.
“This doesn’t feel so fake anymore,” he repeated, softer this time, like he was testing the words himself.
You shook your head, stepping back instinctively. “Hyunjin, we can’t... This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“I know,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “But maybe it was inevitable. We’ve spent so much time together—”
“It’s an act,” you interrupted, more forcefully than you intended. “That’s all it is. We agreed from the beginning: no feelings, no drama.”
He flinched at your words, his expression clouding. “Right. No feelings.”
You could see the hurt in his eyes, but you forced yourself to turn away. You couldn’t afford to let this become real. Not when your careers, your reputations—everything—was on the line.
“I should go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Hyunjin didn’t stop you, and that made it worse.
After that night, things changed. Hyunjin became distant, his playful demeanor replaced by quiet professionalism. You told yourself this was for the best—that keeping your distance would make it easier to maintain the illusion without getting tangled in your emotions.
But it didn’t feel easier.
The staged dates, the red-carpet appearances, even the candid moments for the cameras—all of it felt emptier now. You missed the way Hyunjin used to tease you, the way he could make you laugh even when you didn’t want to.
It wasn’t until a fan event, weeks later, that the tension finally boiled over.
A fan asked Hyunjin about your relationship, and he gave his usual charming answer, but there was a noticeable edge to his tone. Afterward, when you were alone backstage, you couldn’t hold back anymore.
“What’s your problem?” you snapped.
Hyunjin turned to you, his expression unreadable. “My problem? I’m just doing what you wanted—keeping it professional.”
You clenched your fists, frustration bubbling over. “You don’t have to be so cold about it!”
He let out a bitter laugh. “What do you want from me? You were the one who said this was just an act.”
“I didn’t mean—” You stopped yourself, realizing you didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
Hyunjin stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “What didn’t you mean?”
Your breath hitched. For a moment, the only sound was the distant hum of the crowd outside.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling.
Hyunjin’s expression softened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you.
“We can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly. “Not if it’s going to hurt like this.”
The tension between you and Hyunjin came to a head during a joint interview. The host, sensing the awkwardness, asked a question that caught both of you off guard.
“What’s the most unexpected thing you’ve learned about each other?”
Hyunjin hesitated, glancing at you before answering. “She’s a lot stronger than she gives herself credit for.”
His words took you by surprise. For the first time in weeks, you saw a glimpse of the Hyunjin you’d gotten to know—the one who saw past your walls and made you feel seen.
When it was your turn to answer, you found yourself speaking without thinking. “He’s not as carefree as he seems
Hyunjin’s eyes met yours, and in that moment, something shifted.
Later that night, after the interview, you found yourself standing outside Hyunjin’s hotel room. Your heart raced as you knocked on the door, unsure of what you were going to say but knowing you couldn’t leave things as they were.
He opened the door, his expression wary but hopeful. “Hey.”
“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice trembling.
He stepped aside, letting you in. The room was quiet, the air heavy with unspoken words.
“I’ve been thinking,” you began, your hands twisting nervously. “About what you said… about how this doesn’t feel fake anymore.”
Hyunjin watched you carefully, his eyes searching yours. “And?”
You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “You’re right. It doesn’t feel fake. At least, not to me.”
His eyes widened, a flicker of hope breaking through his guarded expression. “Are you saying…?”
“I’m saying I’m scared,” you admitted. “But I don’t want to keep pretending like this doesn’t mean anything. Because it does. You do.”
For a moment, Hyunjin didn’t say anything. Then, without warning, he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
You clung to him, tears pricking at your eyes. “You didn’t.”
The next day, when you stepped out together for another staged appearance, something was different. The smiles, the hand-holding, the lingering glances—they weren’t for the cameras anymore.
They were for each other.
And this time, it was real.
The first kiss happened unexpectedly. It wasn’t during a red-carpet event or a photo shoot—it was in the quiet of your apartment, after a long day.
Hyunjin had stopped by to drop off some documents your managers wanted you to review together. You were sitting on the couch, bickering playfully over the wording of a statement when Hyunjin suddenly went quiet.
“What?” you asked, glancing up.
He was looking at you with that soft, unreadable expression he often had when he thought you weren’t paying attention.
“Nothing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just... You look really beautiful right now.”
Your cheeks burned, and you let out a nervous laugh. “Stop teasing me.”
“I’m not teasing,” he said, leaning closer. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair out of your face, and your breath hitched.
The kiss was soft and hesitant at first, as if both of you were testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, Hyunjin deepened it, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips moved against yours.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless.
“That wasn’t in the script,” you murmured, trying to hide your smile.
Hyunjin grinned. “Maybe we should improvise more often.”
If you thought the kiss marked a turning point in your relationship, the real test came when the rest of Stray Kids found out.
It happened during a casual group hangout at their dorm. You and Hyunjin had been careful to keep your relationship private, but apparently, not careful enough.
“You two are acting weird,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes as he watched you and Hyunjin sit suspiciously far apart on the couch.
“Weird how?” Hyunjin asked, feigning innocence.
“Weird as in, you’re trying too hard not to look at each other,” Seungmin chimed in, smirking.
Before you could deny it, Changbin leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wait a second. Did something happen between you two?”
Hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Yes, something happened.”
Weeks after the public reveal, life settled into a new rhythm. You and Hyunjin were still navigating the world as a couple, balancing the constant demands of work and your blossoming relationship. The attention from fans and the media was overwhelming at times, but you had each other to lean on.
One quiet afternoon, you were at a cafe, sharing a rare moment of peace away from the chaos. Hyunjin was sitting across from you, fiddling with his phone while you sipped on your iced coffee. The soft hum of conversation and the sound of clinking cups created a comforting atmosphere.
“I’ve been thinking about something,” Hyunjin said, looking up from his phone.
“Uh-oh,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
He smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. “I’m serious, okay? We’ve been at this for a while now faking it, being real, all of it. But... I want more. I want to know what it’s like when there’s no pressure. No cameras, no fans, just you and me.”
Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “More?” you repeated, your voice soft.
He nodded, setting his phone aside. “Yeah. More dates without anyone watching. More lazy days where we can just be ourselves. I want to take this slow, but also, I don’t want to waste any more time pretending it’s not real.”
You felt a warmth spread through you, the sincerity in his voice making your chest tight. “I want that too,” you whispered.
The smile he gave you in return made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. The simple gesture felt more meaningful than any grand declaration.
“Then it’s settled,” he said, squeezing your hand gently. “No more pretending. Just us.”
And as you left the cafe, hand in hand, it felt like the first step toward truly being yourselves—no more masks, no more facades.
Of course, even though you and Hyunjin were more serious than ever, that didn’t mean the teasing from the members stopped. If anything, it got worse.
One evening, after a long day of practice, the Stray Kids members were all lounging around in the dorm, taking a break. You and Hyunjin had just come back from a walk, still holding hands when you entered the living room.
“Look who it is, the couple of the century,” Changbin teased, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Shut up,” Hyunjin grumbled, trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck.
You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “You guys are the worst.”
Felix grinned, giving you a knowing look. “We just need to see if you two are as cute off-camera as you are on. I’m still waiting for a public kiss, you know.”
You shot him a glare, but Hyunjin wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Maybe we’ll give you a kiss when you stop being so nosy,” he said, his voice teasing.
“Oh, that’s it,” Han chimed in, making a face. “I’m going to vomit.”
You laughed, your hand slipping into Hyunjin’s as you sat down beside him. “You’re all insufferable.”
“They just want to see how sweet you two are together,” Seungmin said with a smirk. “But I have to admit, it’s nice to see Hyunjin like this. He’s never been this... open.”
your heart fluttered at his words, and you looked up at Hyunjin, who was now giving Seungmin an exaggerated side-eye. “Don’t make it sound like I was some mystery,” he said, though the grin on his face betrayed him.
You smiled softly, feeling your heart swell at the thought of how far the two of you had come. What started as a simple arrangement had evolved into something deeper, something real, and the teasing, while relentless, only made it feel more genuine.
One rainy afternoon, as you were curled up on the couch in your apartment, Hyunjin walked in with an envelope in hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“What's this?” you asked, sitting up and eyeing him curiously.“It’s a surprise,” he said with a wink, handing you the envelope.
Inside was a ticket for a private art exhibit that was being held at a museum in the city. The exhibit was a collection of works from various contemporary artists, and it was known for being intimate, with only a handful of people allowed in at a time.
“I got us tickets,” Hyunjin said, his voice soft. “I know you love art, and I thought it’d be a good way to spend some time together, away from everything else.”
Your heart melted. “Hyunjin, this is so thoughtful.”
He smiled, looking pleased with himself. “I figured it would be something different. Plus, we get to walk around the exhibit hand-in-hand without worrying about paparazzi or cameras.”
You couldn’t help but grin. “You really do know how to surprise me.”
As the two of you spent the afternoon wandering through the quiet halls of the museum, talking about the paintings and sculptures that caught your eye, you felt the world outside fade away. It was just the two of you, sharing something special, and it felt perfect.
Later that evening, after a quiet dinner, Hyunjin walked you back to your apartment, his hand still holding yours tightly.
“Thanks for today,” you said, your voice soft as you glanced up at him. “It was one of the best days I’ve had in a while.”
Hyunjin smiled down at you, his eyes warm and full of affection. “I’m glad. I’ll always find ways to make you happy.”
And as he kissed you gently under the dim light of your apartment hallway, you knew he meant every word.
Months passed, and your relationship with Hyunjin only grew stronger. There were still moments of teasing from the members, still the occasional bout of nerves before public appearances, but through it all, you both knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t just an act anymore.
One evening, as the two of you sat together on the rooftop of the dorm, gazing out at the city lights, Hyunjin turned to you with a serious expression.
“You know,” he began, his voice thoughtful, “when we first started this, I never thought we’d end up here. But now, I can’t imagine my life without you.”
Your heart skipped a beat, and you reached over, taking his hand. “Me neither,” you said softly. “I think I’ve always known it was real, even if I didn’t want to admit it.”
Hyunjin smiled, leaning in to kiss you. “Then let’s make it real—forever.”
As you kissed him, the world around you faded, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.
The End... or perhaps just the beginning.
#stray kids#changbin#jeongin#seungmin#skz#skz x reader#skz imagine#skz imagines#skz smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagine#stray kids imagines#stray kids smut#hyunjin#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin imagine#hyunjin imagines#hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin#hwang hyunjin imagine#hwang hyunjin imagines#hwang hyunjin smut#han jisung#bang chan#lee know#felix#hyunjin fluff
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‘Movie Night’
Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend. You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy?
Index:
Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!
Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!
Disclaimer: Still the same.
Chapter 21 - 'Suffocated’ | ‘Movie Night'
word count - 11.2 k
Trent staggered into his home, the quiet darkness wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket. Every step he took was heavy, weighed down by the events of the night. His house keys clattered onto the counter, the sharp sound echoing through the stillness, but it barely registered. His head was spinning—not just from the alcohol but from the chaos, the betrayal, and the sheer weight of the situation. He ran a hand down his face, dragging it over his mouth, trying to steady his breathing. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t get enough air. Images of you in the club flashed in his mind: your tear-streaked face, your trembling hands as you tried to hold yourself together, and the look in your eyes when he barely even began to tell you those horrible, false words. He felt sick to his stomach. He walked into his bedroom, his movements jerky, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he paced, his thoughts racing. The memory of Josh’s smug grin haunted him, the way he’d dangled that video like a loaded gun. And Jess—how could she do this? How could she lie and hurt you, of all people? Trent stopped in the middle of the room, his breaths coming fast and shallow. The emotions he’d been holding back all night—the rage, the guilt, the heartbreak—surged forward, overwhelming him. Without thinking, he let out a guttural scream, the sound raw and primal, and drove his fist into the nearest wall. The drywall cracked under the force of his punch, a jagged hole splintering outward from the impact. The pain shot up his arm, sharp and immediate, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the ache in his chest. He stared at the broken wall, his knuckles throbbing and speckled with dust. The anger left him as quickly as it had come, replaced by a tidal wave of despair. His shoulders slumped, and he sank to the floor, his back pressed against the wall. He rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clutching his hair as he fought to keep his emotions at bay. But it was no use. The first tear slipped down his cheek, and then another, and before he knew it, he was sobbing. Trent couldn’t remember the last time he cried—it had been years, maybe even a decade. But now, alone in his empty house, the weight of everything was too much to bear. He cried for you, for the way he’d hurt you, for the lies he’d told, and for the love he’d destroyed.
His mind replayed every moment of the night in vivid detail: the way you looked at him, the way Jack had nearly torn him apart, the way Josh had so effortlessly unraveled his life. And through it all, one thought kept repeating in his head: he’d failed you.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. The words echoed in the empty room, hollow and meaningless. “I’m so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands, his tears soaking into his palms. The silence of the room pressed in on him, broken only by his ragged breaths and the occasional hitch of his sobs. He was all alone. He didn’t know how long he sat there, crumpled on the floor, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Time felt meaningless. Eventually, the tears slowed, leaving him feeling empty and drained. He leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling with red, puffy eyes. His knuckles throbbed, and his chest ached, but nothing hurt as much as the realization that he might have lost you for good. He stayed there, slumped on the floor, the broken wall beside him a physical reminder of the damage he’d done. And as the night stretched on, one thought consumed him: how could he ever go on without you. You’d been there his entire life. You were in every memory, every high, every low, you were everywhere. You saturated every moment of his and dug your heels so deep into his heart, he had barely even noticed you’d pierced straight through it. He felt like his heart was about to flatline, give out entirely without you there, leaving behind the gaping hole you’d cut that nothing, no one, and no amount of time could heal. He was bleeding out for you.
Jack leaned back on the sofa, his hands running over his face as he tried to make sense of it all. The room was dimly lit, the silence between him and Noah broken only by their low voices.
“Jess said she didn’t hook up with him,” Jack started, his voice heavy with frustration, “but what I don’t get is why he didn’t fight back, you know, bro? Why didn’t he clear it up if that’s the case? He just left.” Jack looked for answers Noah didn’t have. Noah exhaled deeply, his gaze fixed on a point across the room.
“Mate, can I be honest?” Noah asked haphazardly. Jack nodded looking for anyone he trusted’s input because sadly, at the minute, his usual confidants were the very culprits of the problem at hand. “Bro, something doesn’t sit right with me. I know you’re pissed and that’s valid. No one wants Y/N hurt and upset but something’s off. That’s not Trenty. He put in a proper hard shift in to get her to be his girlfriend. He made too many waves just trying to even get with Y/N in the first place. This…fuck, the whole thing… this doesn’t make sense.” Noah explained just as discombobulated but equally in search of clarity yet with a bit more hope in Trent’s character. Jack nodded again slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, reluctantly agreeing.
“A part of me feels like he must’ve, though… you know? I feel like because so many people were upset, Jess now was just trying to cover for him. And she said she likes him.” His voice grew quieter as he recalled Jess’s confession. “There had to have been more there. There must’ve been an overlap or something. There has to be.” Jack spoke his thoughts aloud. He didn’t want to believe it but there was to big of a mess left behind for it to be nothing. Noah turned to him, his expression incredulous.
“She likes him?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t really believe that. That’s ridiculous. She doesn’t know him, mate. They might’ve hooked up a few times, but that’s it and it was ages ago. And to that point, he’d kick her out right after. She doesn’t even know the lad. Not really. Maybe his salary but not him as a person.” Noah looked at Jack for a moment, hoping he would be getting on his page. Jack was quiet for a moment, letting Noah’s words sink in. He was right, Jess didn’t know Trent and she definitely didn’t know him like you did. Would Trent sacrifice it all for someone he barely knew?
“You think it’s made up, then?” Jack asked, unsure of his own opinion anymore.
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t add up. Not with Trenty. We know end of the day he’s a good lad, even when he’s a bit of a knob sometimes. But with Y/N… he’s the best lad. If he was hitting Jess, he wouldn’t have ever started things with your sister like this. And… I don’t mean to make it awkward for you but didn’t we all know they’d get together? They are end game, bro.” Noah looked at Jack pleadingly. He couldn’t believe their best mate would do this. He was making a case for Trent he wasn’t even sure was true but he’d try because he believed in him. “Mate, he’s been in love with her for years. Y/N and him are like proper in love. They say it to each other, she’s sleeping at his house, he takes care of her. Always has. It doesn’t make sense…. He loves her in a way I can hardly even understand, you know that too.” Noah sheepishly continued on knowing the very idea of this relationship had been hard for Jack to stomach, let alone its demise. Jack sighed heavily, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“I… I.. guess.” Jack muttered knowing that all the points Noah made were valid but they didn’t wash away the other things that had happened, had been said. “Yeah, but the thing is Megan…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “She said she knew about Trent and my sister. Said nothing about Jess. But if she knew about them, why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He asked openly still not completely over your relationship with Trent in its entirety, especially now that it was up in flames with no sight of being extinguished. Noah shrugged.
“Maybe she thought it wasn’t her place. Or maybe she was trying to protect Y/N, knowing you’d lose your head about it.” Noah smirked sympathetically. Jack shook his head, staring at the floor.
“I gotta talk to Meg. I gotta apologize. I was too harsh with her, it wasn’t right.” Jack muttered mostly to himself. He felt so guilty. She was just caught in the crossfire but that didn’t make any of it okay.
“You should,” Noah agreed. “But what about Trenty?” He asked expectedly. Jack’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing.
“I’m not ready for that yet. Y/N’s a mess, mate. She’s broken. He fucked up regardless of what the truth is.” Noah nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole situation was more complicated than it seemed. He knew Trent, really knew him, Jack did too but he was too close. This didn’t sit right with Noah.
“I hear ya, Jack,” Noah said, standing up. “But I need to talk to Trent. I need to hear his side properly. I’m not settling until I know the whole truth.” He explained, gently but surely. Jack looked up at Noah, his expression torn. He didn’t trust Trent right now, but a part of him wanted answers too.
“Yeah, fine,” he muttered, standing up as well. “But if he tries to play you, or if he’s not straight with you…” Jack threatened, not really with any venom but more so with exhaustion. He was just so frustrated at how messy things had gotten.
“I’ll handle it,” Noah assured him. “You’ve got my word. I really don’t want to lose movie nights.” Noah smirked cheekily. It was just Noah’s backwards way of being sincere. He wanted to help. Jack nodded hoping he could assist because he didn’t want to lose movie nights either and least of all his friendship with Trent.
A day had passed, and the silence was deafening. Trent sat on the edge of his bed, his phone clutched in his hand, staring at the endless stream of unanswered messages and missed calls he’d sent to Jack. He hadn’t dared to try you—not yet. Every time he hovered over your name, his thumb froze, his mind spiraling into doubt. What could he even say? That he’d been blackmailed? That Jess had lied? Would you believe him, or would it just sound like another excuse? The thought of you, hurt and angry, twisted his stomach into knots. He scrubbed a hand down his face and hit redial on Jack’s number, fully expecting to hear the voicemail tone again. But this time, it didn’t come. A click on the other end was followed by a sharp voice.
“What do you want bro?” Jack answered, his hostility cutting through the silence like a knife. Trent’s heart raced.
“Jack. I need to see you,” he said quickly, the words spilling out before Jack could hang up. “I need to explain.” When Jack heard the words all he could think of was your face. The way you’d been sobbing for hours inconsolably. His anger wasn’t something he could push down. He was mad at Trent, no matter the circumstance.
“What’s there to explain, mate,” Jack snapped. “You’re not coming near my fucking house or my sister. Do you understand me?” He threatened his best friend of years, now sounding like a stranger he hated. If Noah wanted to dig for unsurfaced truths he could, but to Jack the only thing that mattered was that you were hurting and nothing would fix that.
“Then come to me,” Trent pleaded, his voice cracking. “Please, Jack. You have to hear me out.” He took a shaky breath, his desperation slipping through. “You need to understand.” Jack paused on the other end, the silence tense.
“Understand what?” he bit out. “That you cheated on her? That you fucked her over? That you lied to all of us? Again…” His voice grew louder, each accusation hitting Trent like a blow.
“I didn’t—” Trent started, but his voice broke, and he stopped to compose himself. “It’s not what you think. Please, Jack,” he whispered, his voice thick. He sniffled audibly, and Jack froze. Was he crying? Jack sighed heavily, his anger faltering for just a moment. Something about Trent’s tone—it wasn’t defensive or self-righteous. It was broken. And that shook him. Maybe what Jess had admitted was true. That this whole sequence of events wasn’t entirely clear cut and true. Maybe there was more to this mess than he’d thought. Maybe he should follow Noah’s lead and look beneath the surface.
“Where?” Jack finally said, his voice gruff but less hostile. Trent exhaled in relief, his grip on the phone tightening.
“My place, I don’t care, anywhere, mate,” he said quickly. “Whenever you can. Please.” Jack didn’t respond immediately.
“Fine,” he said eventually. “But if I don’t like what I hear, it’s done. Yeah?” He cautioned Trent.
“Yeah,” Trent whispered, his voice small. “I got it.” Jack hung up without another word, and Trent sat there, staring at his phone, his chest tight. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was a chance. And right now, that was all he could hope for.
It was a days time between that phone call until Jack entered the room, the air felt heavy, oppressive, as though it carried the weight of all the chaos and heartbreak from the past few days. Trent sat on the edge of the couch, his shoulders hunched, his hands nervously clasped between his knees. His eyes were fixed on the floor, unable to meet Jack’s piercing glare. Noah stood to the side, shifting awkwardly, clearly caught in the crossfire of tension, ready to be a mediator.
“Hey…” Noah started, his voice uncertain, as if testing the waters.
“Yo…” Jack replied curtly, stepping further into the room. His gaze flicked to Trent, sharp and calculating, before landing back on Noah. He didn’t sit, his posture stiff and unyielding.
“So… erm…” Noah began again, scratching the back of his neck. “I just thought maybe I should be here because I care too, you know…. And I just had to hear Trenty’s side. I told you, it didn’t sit right with me, mate. None of it made sense.” Noah babbled a little nervously for how things were going to go. Jack’s jaw tightened, but to everyone’s surprise, he nodded.
“I know,” he said simply, his voice low. Both Noah and Trent froze, their eyes snapping to Jack. Trent, who had been bracing for an onslaught, felt his breath catch. Jack’s answer wasn’t what he had expected. Not at all.
“What?” Trent finally managed, his voice hoarse.
“What?” Noah echoed, his confusion mirroring Trent’s. Jack sighed, dragging a hand down his face.
“I said, I know. I know something’s off. Jess was lying. Megan’s been going on about how things don’t add up, Noah too, and honestly, I’ve been thinking about it more now too.” He explained with a deep exhale. Trent blinked, stunned. He hadn’t allowed himself to hope for this—to think Jack would give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Mate, I—” Trent tried to speak. Jack held up a hand, silencing him.
“I didn’t come here to forgive you, alright? I came here to figure out what the hell is going on. Because if you’ve actually hurt her like this, Trent, I swear to God, I’ll make sure you never come near her again.” He threatened but Jack was tired of threats, he just wanted answers. Trent nodded quickly, his throat tight. Noah was trying to remain impartial, he understood Jack’s anger but he was praying Trent had an answer. Too much time had gone by without one and his faith in Trent was starting to waiver.
“Trent, you’ve gotta just tell us straight… What happened, bro? Did you…” Noah awkwardly pished for some truth, some clarity to lower the temperature of the room that was rapidly rising.
“I swear on my fucking life. I didn’t do what I said that night. I… I… I love her. I did it for her you have to fucking believe me.” Trent whimpered. He looked like a sad puppy. Jack and Noah had never seen him so weak. There wasn’t an ounce of the confidence that was usually oozing from his pores. He looked broken.
“So…” Noah probed confused but desperate for Trent to have an answer for it all.
“I didn’t, do it. I swear. None of it—none of what was said—is true. I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix this without making things worse, but it’s all so fucked up.” His voice cracked, and he rubbed at his eyes, trying to compose himself.
“Alright, then try to explain,” Jack said, crossing his arms. “Because as far as I know, it sounds as if Jess and you have been fucking and since it came out, now you and her are trying to protect yourselves saying you weren’t screwing my little sister over this whole time.” Jack laid out what he knew to true in black and white. Trent inhaled shakily, his hands trembling as he finally looked up at Jack.
“Mate….” Trent sighed, preparing himself to admit it all to Jack, ready to colorize the lie that got him to this place. “It… it was Josh.” He mumbled.
“Josh? Fuck off. Bro, serious. I’m trying to help you here and it’s just looking like you've been playing with Y/N’s heart.” Noah quipped desperately looking for clarity Trent was continually skirting around.
“What the fuck does that piece of shit have to do with this? Nah, serious, what the fuck is going on.” Jack threw his head. Not at Trent but at the fact that Josh seemed to lace himself intricately into their lives way too often as of late.
“I haven’t hooked up with Jess since, swear.” Trent jumped to the chase. “But Josh…” He sighed. “He has a video…” Trent sheepishly admitted.
“A what?” Noah asked incredulously. Jack tensed. You and Trent together was one thing, but you and Trent together intimately was another.
“A video of us, bro. I don’t know how he got it. He showed me at the club and said he’d send it out if I didn’t tell Y/N I’d been messing about with Jess still, that I needed to leave alone that night or… god fuck!” Trent shouted angrily at the situation he found himself in. “You have to understand, he said he’d release it… I couldn’t let that happen. He was fucked up. He would’ve done it.” Trent muttered. “I couldn’t let him hurt her anymore.” Trent whimpered.
“Fuck… “ Noah seethed.
“So you haven’t hooked up with Jess?” Jack pressed.
“No. On my life.” Trent confirmed. “He has this video though of me and Y/N. He said he’d send it to The Sun… I don’t know, literally anywhere, her work, my work, your dad all just to embarrass her, hurt her, tank my reputation using her, ruin her anyway if I didn’t play along. He just wanted to hurt her. He wanted everyone to see her on her knees, bro… It’s … I don’t know how else to explain it, mate but I couldn’t let that happen to her. I couldn’t do that. He was fucked up. He would’ve done it, I could see it behind his eyes. I swear, I honestly didn’t even care about myself, I just cared about protecting her. That’s why I lied. For her. That’s why I said I was with Jess.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was just doing what Josh said so he wouldn’t hurt her, so the video wouldn’t get out.” Trent took a deep breath after his long soliloquy. Jack’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of Trent’s confession sinking in. Noah leaned back in his seat in shock.
“Josh?” Jack repeated, his voice sharp. “You’re saying this is all because of him?” He questioned Trent, his eyes narrowing as if he could gauge the story somehow clearer.
“Yeah, bro,” Trent said firmly. “He was trying to fuck with her and take me out in the process, Jack. You know what he’s like!” Trent yelped desperately.
“Jack, the lad’s fucking crazy, he stormed into that party trying to start shit too, he wants to embarrass her. He’s trying to hurt Y/N. That sounds exactly like what he was looking to do that night.” Noah added cautiously. He didn’t want to pile on but he felt maybe it would help Trent’s case and maybe it would help them all remain friends.
“Crazy is an understatement. He doesn’t fucking care. He just wants to hurt her and I wasn’t going to let that happen. I figured taking the fall would be better. I’d rather her hate me than him think he had control of her. You have to understand, he had the fucking email ready to fire off. He was going to do it, unless I lied, unless I left alone that night. I didn’t have another choice.” Trent babbled frantically, desperate for Jack to understand. Jack’s fists clenched at his sides, his anger simmering just below the surface.
“That fucking prick,” he muttered. He paced the room for a moment, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you just tell her, Trent? Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked with venom.
“He told me I couldn’t! I couldn’t risk it. He was drunk… what if he sent it right then!” Trent yelped. “I was trying to protect her,” Trent admitted, his voice dropping barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want her to get hurt more than she already had been. But I fucked it up. I know that. I just couldn’t risk it. I just—I didn’t know what else to do. It was better for her to hate me than to let that kid hurt her any more.” Trent whimpered. But as he said his words aloud he realized that maybe it didn’t make enough sense. Jack stopped pacing, his expression hard but less hostile. He studied Trent for a long moment, weighing his words.
“If you’re lying to us right now, Trent,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous, “I swear, I’ll never forgive you. I’d never let you near her again. But if you’re telling the truth… we need to fix this. For her.” Jack’s eyes flicked towards Trent and then to Noah looking for some confirmation.
“I’m telling the truth,” Trent said, his voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill. “I just want to make this right. I don’t want him to hurt her anymore. She’s endured enough. His fucking hands on her, his words, I can see her wince anytime anyone comes near her….” Trent voice shook. And finally… a tear tipped over. Trent was stood in front of his best friends crying. Jack and Noah were stunned. Never had they seen Trent cry. “It’s like she’s prepared for everyone to treat her like she’s already on her knees, to be thrown about and I couldn’t let him hold that over her, I couldn’t. He was going to exploit her, use her. I just couldn't stomach it. It’s breaking my own heart letting her hate me but I do it a million times over before I let him break her spirit once more. I couldn’t-“ Trent’s words were desperate with short gasps trying to catch his breath. He was completely distraught.
“T… mate. Just take breathe for a minute.”Jack spoke, cutting him off. The lump in his throat stifled his words. “Thank you.” Jack admitted and he meant it. The realization that the effects of Josh’s abuse was extending far past the expiration date of your relationship with him hurt Jack. He had to believe Trent. The strain in his voice, the desperation in his eyes, he could see it all written clear as day.
“We’re gonna sort that fucking son of bitch out.” Noah chirped adamantly about creating a plan to put Josh in his place. Jack nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
“Alright, then we figure this out. We need to sort this for her… and you know for you two.” Jack admitted through gritted teeth realizing that he was about to do anything to protect not just his little sister but he was about to do anything to protect his little sister’s relationship with his best friend.
“Just for her, mate. I need to make sure she’s okay. He can’t do this.” Trent answered, his voice breaking.
“I deserved this,” you whimpered, barely able to get the words out. Your voice cracked as if the weight of the pain you were carrying would physically tear you apart. Layla didn’t hesitate. She crawled toward you on the bed, her movements slow and careful, but her arms wrapped around you with urgency, pulling you into her warmth as if she could shield you from everything hurting you.
“You didn’t,” she said firmly, her voice a quiet strength that demanded to be believed. “None of it. Not Trent, not Josh, not Jack and your dad, not your mum. None of this is fair, babe. None of it. But I’m here. I’m always here. You’re going to get through this.” She pressed her forehead against yours gently, grounding you when you felt like your entire world was falling apart. Your skin felt icy, a chill that seeped into your bones and made you feel like you weren’t even in your own body anymore. The detachment scared you, but you couldn’t find the words to explain it. You just stared at the ceiling, tears slipping silently from the corners of your eyes and onto the pillow beneath you.
“I just…” you started, voice trembling, barely audible. “I thought he wanted me.” The words fell from your lips like a confession, raw and bleeding. Your throat tightened as the tears came harder, blurring your vision and making it almost impossible to breathe. “Like someone actually wanted me— He was always so nice to me and I was stupid enough to believe him.” Your voice broke completely as the sobs overtook you, violent and gut-wrenching. You pressed your hands to your face, trying to smother the sound, but it was useless. The pain was too much. It was too big to hide. Layla pulled you closer, cradling you against her chest like a child.
“Oh, babe,” she murmured, her voice filled with grief and love, trembling as much as your own. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of it. You deserve to be loved.” Her hand ran soothingly down your back, but even she was struggling to keep it together. “Not like this. Not in pieces. You deserve to be someone’s whole world.” Her voice cracked at the end, and you could feel her tears against your temple as she tried to hold it together for you. “Please… we’ll come out of this. I promise.” Her words felt so far away, too soft to reach you through the thick fog of anguish you were drowning in. All you could think about was Trent—his smile, his touch, his promises. He had felt like salvation, like the answer to years of brokenness, but now all he felt like was another lie. Another person who had used you and left you worse off than ever before. Every corner of your life felt tainted by him. You could still see him everywhere: you sat in the stands on weekends watching him with the rest of the world and yet somehow he still felt like he was just yours, his hand warm and protective on your waist in crowded clubs, the way he’d rest his head on your lap during lazy movie nights. His laughter, his whispers, his love—if it ever was love—were ghosts haunting every inch of your space. You couldn’t breathe without feeling him, without hurting.
“I can’t get away from him,” you admitted, your voice a shattered whisper. You buried your face in Layla’s chest, as if that might somehow shield you from your own thoughts. “It’s like… he’s everywhere. Everywhere I go, I see him. I feel him.” Your tears soaked through her shirt, but she didn’t care. She held you tighter, her hands never stopping their soothing motions down your back. You couldn’t even go anywhere in your own home, his imprint was ubiquitous; he’d sat in every chair, he’d held every glass, he’d opened every door. Now you found yourself feeling more battered and bruised than anytime Josh had ever touched you. You were starting to feel like maybe emotional hurt was worse than anything physical.
“It’ll take time,” Layla said gently, though her voice shook. “But you’ll get there. I promise. One day, he won’t hurt this much. He won’t have this hold on you. None of them will” You shook your head against her, the pain too fresh for you to believe her.
“He hurts more than Josh ever did,” you admitted, the words coming out unbidden, your voice raw and bitter. “At least with him, I could see the scars. I could feel the bruises. His hands on me. But this—” You clenched your fists against Layla’s shirt, your body trembling with a fresh wave of sobs. “This is worse. He didn’t just break my heart. He broke me.” Layla froze for a moment, your confession hitting her like a punch to the gut. She felt at fault, guilty that she didn’t see it all. What Josh had done, what Trent apparently had done. She hadn’t known you felt like this, hadn’t realized how deep the wounds Trent could leave behind went. “I never want to see him again but he’s plastered around the entire country. I don’t know how to escape someone I so desperately wanted to see for years. He was the only person I looked at for years. I had complete tunnel vision, focused on him. I just wanted him to look only at me and I wasn’t enough. He looked elsewhere but he’s still all I see… and it hurts.” Slowly, Layla pulled back, cupping your tear-streaked face in her hands, her own eyes swimming with tears.
“Listen to me,” she said fiercely, her voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You didn’t let him do this. You trusted him because you’re a good person. Because you have a good heart, and you believed he had one too. That’s not on you, babe. That’s on him.” Her words were like a lifeline, pulling you up just enough to take a shaky breath. But the emptiness inside you remained, a hollow ache that seemed too vast to ever be filled.
“I just want it to stop,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “The pain, the memories… I just want it all to stop.” Layla’s tears spilled over then, but she didn’t let go of you.
“It will,” she promised, her voice cracking. “I swear it will. And until it does, I’ll be here. Every step of the way, I’ll be here.” Her arms tightened around you again, holding you as if she could keep the pieces of you together by sheer will. And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into her, the faintest flicker of hope breaking through the suffocating darkness.
When Jack stepped into your room, his stomach twisted in a way he hadn’t felt in years. You didn’t just look sad—you looked like you’d been hollowed out, a shell of the person you used to be. His chest tightened as he took it all in: the dim light from your computer screen illuminating your face, your body wrapped in a blanket like it was the only thing holding you together, the empty water glass on your nightstand and the untouched bowl of snacks Layla must’ve left earlier. You weren’t just grieving—you were unraveling. Jack didn’t knock. He couldn’t. The sight of you like this obliterated every barrier between the two of you. He pushed the door open fully, the creak of the hinges announcing his presence as he stepped inside. The room was suffocatingly dark, the blinds shut tight, sealing you in a cocoon of silence and despair. Without saying a word, Jack walked to the window and yanked the blinds open. The sudden flood of light made you flinch, and you burrowed further under the blanket, shooting him a weak glare.
“Need to get up,” Jack said, his voice gentle but firm. He didn’t move closer right away, instead giving you space to process his words. You blinked at him, your voice hoarse and barely audible.
“Why?” It wasn’t a challenge, just a broken question. Why get up? Why move? Why try? Jack took a hesitant step closer, his movements slow, like he was afraid you might crumble under the weight of his presence. He sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to reach you but not close enough to overwhelm you. For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read the pain etched into every line.
“Just for me,” he murmured, his voice soft and raw. “Please, Y/N. Just put on some sweats. Wash your face. You don’t have to do anything else. Just… do that for me.” He pleaded. You stared at him for a long moment, your lips trembling as tears welled up in your eyes. The lump in your throat was so thick you could barely breathe. Finally, you gave a small nod, sniffing back the sob that threatened to escape. Slowly, like moving through quicksand, you pushed the blanket off and swung your legs over the side of the bed. Jack didn’t say a word as you stood up, your body heavy and sluggish. He just watched, his heart breaking at how much effort it seemed to take you to even move. You trudged toward the en suite bathroom, the soft shuffle of your feet on the carpet the only sound in the room. Once inside, you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you caught your breath. The light from the bathroom mirror was harsh, and when you finally looked up at your reflection, you almost didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. Your eyes were swollen and red, your cheeks blotchy, your hair a mess. You looked like you’d been drained of every ounce of life and energy. Turning the faucet on, you let the cold water run for a moment before splashing it onto your face. The shock of it sent a shiver down your spine, pulling you back into your body for a brief moment. You reached for a towel, patting your face dry as you tried to steady your breathing. The faint murmur of the trash tv you were watching in your room filtered through the door, a reminder that Jack was still there, waiting for you. He hadn’t left.
With shaking hands, you pulled on an oversized hoodie and a pair of joggers from the pile of clothes on the bathroom counter. It was from laundry you should’ve done but menial tasks fell to the wayside, lost on you days ago. The clothes weren’t much, but they felt like armor against the weight of the world pressing down on you. You heard Jack pause the show in the other room leaving the en-suite eerily quiet, the faint hum of the light above doing nothing to break the stillness. You stood still barefoot on the cold tiles, the chill biting at your skin, yet it wasn’t enough to ground you. It felt like you were floating, disconnected from your own body, staring at a reflection in the mirror you barely recognized. The girl staring back looked broken—eyes rimmed red, lips trembling, cheeks stained with tears.
Your gaze shifted downward slightly, catching a glint of gold and blue in the mirror. The earrings. The ones Trent had given you when he sincerely and thoughtfully asked you to be his girlfriend. You had worn them every day since, a tangible reminder of the joy, the love, and the hope that had bloomed in that moment. Now, they felt different. A lump formed in your throat as you stared at them—the delicate gold butterfly in one ear and the striking blue butterfly in the other. They had been a symbol of the start of something beautiful, of a relationship you had longed for. But now, they felt like a cruel reminder of what you had barely even gotten the chance to hold onto. You didn’t even know how long he was even your boyfriend for, that’s how short it all felt and yet the hurt made it all feel incredibly long.
The tears came back quickly, racing down your cheeks before you could stop them. You sniffled, clutching the edge of the sink to steady yourself as your chest heaved with quiet sobs. It wasn’t just the loss of Trent that weighed on you. It was the idea that you had finally allowed yourself to believe in something good, something real, only for it to be ripped away before it had the chance to truly take root. Your fingers hesitated as they reached up, brushing against the earrings. For a moment, you considered taking them out, desperate to erase the pain, the memories, the pieces of him that lingered. But as your trembling hand hovered there, you froze. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t let go of him—not entirely. Even if your relationship was over, your love for him wasn’t. It clung to you, stubborn and unyielding, refusing to fade no matter how much it hurt. Maybe these butterflies, pinned delicately to your earlobes, could still be a source of hope. Maybe they could remind you of what had been, but also of what could still be. You let out a shaky breath, wiping at your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. The weight in your chest didn’t disappear, but as you looked at your reflection again, you realized something. These earrings weren’t just about Trent. They were about you, too. About the courage it had taken to open your heart and the strength you’d need to keep it from breaking completely. The Trent that gave you these was gone. The Trent that looked after you for years disappeared but the girl you thought he loved was still there staring back at you, you couldn’t change that. You couldn’t escape her. Maybe, the butterflies—fragile as they were—could carry you through.
When you stepped back into the room, Jack was standing by the window, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the street below. He turned toward you as he heard the bathroom door open, his eyes scanning you carefully. You tugged at the hem of your hoodie self-consciously, feeling exposed even though you were fully covered. Jack’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he gave a small nod of approval, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
“Thanks,” he said softly, moving back to sit on the bed. He patted the spot beside him, and after a moment’s hesitation, you shuffled over and sat down next to him. Your body felt heavy, like it might sink into the mattress and never resurface. For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was just heavy, filled with all the things you couldn’t say yet. Jack placed a hand on your knee, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in days. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in sooner,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “I knew you were hurting… I just, I didn’t know this was how bad it was in here..” Jack cooed softly as he inspected the room. You’d been holed up for ages. “I didn’t know what to say… I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.” You swallowed hard, blinking back tears as you stared at your hands in your lap.
“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, but even as you said it, the tears started to fall. Jack didn’t try to stop them. He didn’t tell you it was going to be okay or that you needed to pull yourself together. He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug as you let yourself completely crumble. You sobbed into his chest, your whole body shaking as the dam broke.
“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure. “I’ve got you, Y/N. I’m here.” He whispered as you fell apart.
After a long while and buckets of more tears. Jack convinced you to get into the car with the enticement of starbucks. The car ride was quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but still carried the weight of everything unspoken. Jack had barely said a word, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he navigated the streets. You didn’t ask where you were going—because it was clearly not in the direction of the closest Starbucks but part of you was too tired to care, and another yet part trusted him to know what you needed better than you did right now.
When the car pulled to a stop, you felt a pang of recognition before you even looked up. Heaton Park. Your chest tightened, and you let out a shaky sigh, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. The moment you stepped out of the car, the cool air bit at your skin, but it couldn’t cut through the numbness you felt inside. You were sluggishly, the bitter wind brushing against your face and making you shiver. The familiar sight of the park stretched out before you, the stone paths winding through the greenery like veins in a leaf. The park stretched out before you, serene and empty, but it felt like the ground beneath you was unsteady. For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of something—a memory, a connection—but it was fleeting. Jack walked a few steps ahead of you, his strides purposeful yet hesitant, silent, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. You followed, your feet dragging slightly on the gravel path.
“Are we going to go to—” you began, your voice soft and tentative. Jack didn’t let you finish. He turned and just nodded, his eyes returning to be fixed ahead. He knew what you were going to ask. Of course he did. The greenhouse.
It was a sanctuary, a place where your mum had poured so much of her love and energy. After she passed, it became something more—a place where you could feel her presence, as though she lived on in the delicate flutter of the butterflies that filled the glass room. It was a space that brought both comfort and sorrow, a bittersweet reminder of what you had lost and what you still held onto. As you walked toward it, the weight in your chest grew heavier. You weren’t sure if you were ready to step inside, to face the memories that waited for you there, you hadn’t been in a long time. But before you could take another step, Jack stopped.
“Why are you stopping?” you asked, turning to look at him with confusion. As the greenhouse came into view, its glass panes glinting faintly in the muted sunlight, your heart sank. The lush greenery inside was just visible through the tinted windows, the flickering movements of butterflies a distant echo of life you didn’t feel. You frowned confused as Jack stopped in his tracks. He turned to you, his lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes didn’t meet yours. He nodded back toward the greenhouse for you to really look. Your brows furrowed as you followed his gaze. There, through the glass, was Trent. He was seated on a bench, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together like he was holding on for dear life. His head was bowed, his shoulders slumped, his entire body radiating a kind of exhaustion you recognized all too well.
“Jack…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to see him. You swallowed, blinking back tears. You turned back towards the car.
“Just talk to him,” Jack said softly, but firmly, pleadingly. He didn’t push you forward, didn’t try to guide you. He just waited. Your feet felt like they were weighed down. Finally, you took a deep breath. At the very least maybe you could sever ties entirely with Trent. You could let Trent break your heart to your face. Let him hurt you, slice you completely open and there in the green house so full of life, you could let this all die.
“Why are you doing this?” you asked finally, your voice shaking as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you. And with those words, the dam broke once more. Jack didn’t answer. He just gave a small nod, his gaze shifting toward the greenhouse again. Your heart clenched, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. He looked different—not in a physical way, but in the way he carried himself. His shoulders were hunched, his hands clasped tightly together as he stared at the ground. He looked like a man who had been hollowed out, as though the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. You turned back to Jack, your eyes wide and filled with questions. “Jack…Why—” You asked again because you wanted to know.
“I didn’t bring you here… for him,” Jack said quickly, his voice low and steady. “I brought you here for you. But… he asked to see you. Said he’d wait as long as it took. He’s been here for hours, Y/N. He’s not leaving until you talk to him.” Jack’s voice was calm. You could sense that he was comfortable with letting you go into an enclosed room with Trent. It didn’t make sense. He hurt you. Why was Jack okay with this. You felt your throat tighten, your emotions warring inside you. Part of you wanted to turn and walk away, to leave him sitting there in the greenhouse with his guilt and his regrets. But another part of you, a part you hated to admit existed, wanted to go inside. To hear what he had to say. Jack moved gently and slowly before placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “You don’t have to do this,” he said gently. “But if you want to… Just do what you want.” Jack exhaled. “Y/N, for once, do what you want. Please.” Jack pleaded, desperate for you to be brave for yourself… not for him, not for Trent, but to either go in or get out on your own terms.
And so then in that moment you decided, you wanted to feel it all, all the heartache, let it pull you under, hot box you in what once was. You wanted to be suffocated by the memories of your mum and memories of the Trent you’d once trusted that filled the greenhouse and be able to close the door behind you. You nodded slowly, your feet carrying you forward before your mind could catch up. The closer you got to the greenhouse, the louder your heartbeat became, pounding in your ears like a drum. Every step toward the greenhouse taking more effort than the last. The closer you got, the more details came into focus. The way Trent’s jaw clenched as he stared at the ground. The way his leg bounced nervously. The way his hands trembled, just barely, as they hung between his knees. When you reached the door, your hand hovered over the handle for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You wanted to turn back, to run away, to avoid the pain you knew was waiting for you inside, maybe you weren’t strong enough for what you decided. But something kept you rooted there—a flicker of hope, or maybe just a need for answers. You pushed the door open, the faint creak of the hinges cutting through the stillness. The soft hum of the greenhouse filling your ears as you stepped inside. The warm, humid air hit you immediately, carrying the faint smell of flowers and earth. It was warm and fragrant, the scent of memories mingling with the faint flutter of wings. Yet simultaneously, it was almost too quiet inside, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the soft mossy floor.
Trent didn’t look up at first, but the moment the door clicked shut behind you, his head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and the raw emotion in them hit you like a wave, his eyes meeting yours. The pain in his expression mirrored your own, and for a moment, neither of you moved.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking, as he stood abruptly, his voice raw with emotion. He looked like he didn’t know whether to move closer or stay where he was, his hands twitching at his sides. You didn’t say anything at first. You just stared at him, taking in the sight of the man you loved—someone who now felt like a stranger. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, with pain and regret and longing Trent stood as you approached, his movements slow and tentative, like he was afraid of scaring you away. You stayed quiet, your arms wrapping around yourself as you stopped a few feet away from him. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until finally, Trent spoke again. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice a meek whimper, a tone you had never known. “For everything. For hurting you. For not fighting harder to protect us. I—I don’t even know where to start, but I need you to know… I never wanted this. I never wanted to lose you.” His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—they were all still there, but so was something else. Something softer, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. But first, you needed answers. And you needed to know if you could trust him again.
“But you did hurt me. You didn’t fight for me. All you’ve done….” You whimpered barely able to get the words out. Tears were already coursing down your cheeks just merely at the sight of him. “All you’ve done is break me down in ways I didn’t even know were possible.” You cried, unable to look him in the eyes. You felt naked crying in front of him. Like your sweatset had vanished entirely.
“I know.” Ternt muttered, unable to stay quiet as guilt crashed over him. You heard Jack’s car wheels pull across the gravel leaving you with Trent. You were alone, fragile, boxed in with the boy who broke your heart in a literal glass house that felt it could shatter at any moment.
“Why did you hurt me…” You sobbed. Trent wasn’t sure he ever knew pain like this existed either watching you stand there doused in the tears he caused. “Why did you lie to me? Why wasn’t I good enough? You told me I was… you’re the only person who's ever even taken a second look at me, taken an interest in me, really saw me and… and… it was a lie. Why did you do that? What did you gain from that? Was it for the sex? You didn’t get enough of that elsewhere? You think I didn’t ache every time I saw you with a new girl for years and finally… god! fucking finally you really looked at me. I thought you loved me! You made me you’re fucking girlfriend just to screw Jess? Why would you hurt me…” Your words were fast, rushed, emotional, with gasps and hiccups interspersed between words.
“I didn’t touch her.” Trent looked at you earnestly. Your brow furrowed trying to deduce if he was being honest or if he had the gull to lie to your face right now. “Y/N, I swear on my life, I have not looked at another girl, let alone touched one since you kissed me. I did not kiss Jess. I did not have sex with her. The day you kissed me my fucking life got flipped upside down. You have been the only thought in my head for months and you’ve been the only girl I’ve wanted for my years.” Trent confessed, his voice was weak but it was raw and unfiltered. It was unapologetically honest and you couldn’t ignore it. “Y/N… baby, please. I’ve waited. God, I’ve fucking waited my turn… I watched you with all those fucking assholes wishing you’d let me have a chance, let me in… please don’t shut me out now.” He whimpered desperately.
“Then why… I don’t understand how this got so fucked up.” You questioned him quietly. “Why did you say those things? Why did you leave?” You asked hesitantly, not sure if you could stomach the answer.
“Josh… He has a video.” He confessed. The moment the words left his mouth, the air seemed to shift, heavy with a revelation that landed like a weight in your chest. Your mind reeled as Trent’s confession unfolded, the pieces clicking into place in a way that made your stomach churn.
“What?” you whispered, your voice trembling. He took a step forward. He’s hands gently wrapped around your biceps.
“Josh…” Trent said again, his grip on your arms tightening ever so slightly, like he was afraid you might disappear. “He has that video. I don’t know how he got it, but he threatened me. Said if I didn’t leave you, if I didn’t do what he asked, he’d release it. He wanted to hurt you. He used me to hurt you. He has a video of us and he was using it to exploit you and me, us. Baby, I would never do this to you unprompted. He pushed my hand, I didn’t fuck Jess, that fucking prick made me lie to you. To everyone. I just couldn't handle him thinking he had control over you anymore. It broke my heart hurting you, letting you hate me but I’d do it a million times over before I let him come near you again. I will always protect you, even if it came at the cost of losing you. I lost the love of my life that night but….” Trent tried to keep talking but the look on your face made him pause. Your knees buckled, and Trent was quick to steady you, his hands sliding down to your elbows. But you pulled back, stepping out of his reach as you tried to process what he was saying.
“He’s been blackmailing you?” you asked, your voice breaking. Trent nodded, his eyes red-rimmed and pleading.
“I didn’t know what to do. I thought—I had to play his fucking game, it was the only way I could protect you. I could keep him from doing something worse. I didn’t want to lose you, baby, but I couldn’t let him hurt you again. I couldn’t.” He whimpered as you stumbled backward, your hands clutching your temples as the weight of it all came crashing down. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the manipulation—it was too much.
“You should have told me,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You should have trusted me. Trusted us.” Trent stepped forward again, desperate to close the gap between you.
“You don’t understand, he was going to send it at his fucking table that night. He had a video of you on your knees, Y/N ready to send out to anyone and everyone. I didn’t want you to carry that weight. You’ve been through enough. I don’t want him near you. My only option was to handle it on my own. I was protecting you the only way I could, that night.” Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head.
“But you weren’t. Trent, you weren’t protecting me. You were letting him win. Letting him keep control.” You whimpered, explaining your very real thoughts. He dropped his head, his hands falling to his sides in defeat.
“No. He doesn’t have control,” he said softly, yet unsure. “I know I messed up. But please, baby, I’m trying to make it right now. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. He won’t take you away from me.” You looked at him, your heart aching in a way that made it hard to breathe. You wanted to believe him, to let yourself fall into his arms and trust that he could make it right. But the pain, the betrayal, the fear—it wasn’t something you could push aside so easily. You didn’t respond, your body too numb and your mind too overwhelmed to form words. It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you. You couldn’t comprehend it—Josh, holding something so intimate, so vulnerable, like a weapon against you. Your tears continued fast, hot and unrelenting, blurring the lush greenery around you into an indistinguishable haze. Trent stepped closer into you, his voice trembling. “I know it hurt, baby, but I couldn’t risk it. Not that night. Not with him. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to lie to you, to everyone. You have to believe me.” His words cracked, and you saw his own tears spill down his cheeks. You’d never seen him cry like this before, and it broke something inside of you.
“So Josh still has a video of us?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible as you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively. The nausea hit you like a tidal wave, and you staggered slightly again.
“I don’t know how he got it,” Trent said, his voice hoarse. “But he was trying to use it to get you away from me, to keep hurting you but I won’t let it happen.” The betrayal and disgust churned in your stomach, but amidst it all, there was one truth you couldn’t deny, one thing that felt louder than the rest.
“I don’t want to be away from you,” you whimpered, your voice raw with emotion. That small admission shattered whatever invisible wall had been keeping you apart. You took a single step forward, and it felt monumental, like crossing a chasm. Trent didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as if he could shield you from everything, even the weight of the world. His embrace was warm and steady, but it also unraveled you completely. You broke down, your sobs shaking your whole body as you clung to him. It was a release you didn’t even realize you needed, all the pain, fear, and uncertainty spilling out in waves.
“I’m not going to be away from you,” Trent whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the emotion lacing it. “I’m here. Okay? I’m not leaving.” He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to reassure you of his promise. The greenhouse felt both fragile and comforting, the tension in the air gradually giving way to something softer, something hopeful. For the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe. The lush oxygen in the greenhouse was no longer suffocating, it was liberating. It was quiet for a long time, only the sound of tears, ragged breaths, and broken hearts.
“Are you still my boyfriend?” you whimpered against the soft cotton of Trent’s shirt, your voice barely audible. The words felt heavy in your throat, weighted with everything you’d been through, everything that had been said and done. Despite it all you were desperate to repair the gaping hole he’d left behind in your chest. You didn’t even know if you wanted the answer—because what if it wasn’t the one you needed? Trent froze for a moment, his breath catching in his chest. Then, with a tenderness that almost broke you, he pulled back, his large hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs gently wiped away the tears spilling down your cheeks, his dark eyes swimming with emotion. He leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath warm and steady on your skin.
“I’ve waited my entire life to be your boyfriend,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m not backing out now. Not for no one. I’ve got you.” The sincerity in his words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything you couldn’t find the words to say. It felt like you were pressing your broken pieces into him, hoping he could hold them together. When you pulled away, your chest heaving with silent sobs, you noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye. A delicate blue butterfly flitted through the still air, its wings shimmering in the golden light streaming through the glass walls of the greenhouse. It circled once, twice, and then landed gently on Trent’s shoulder, its tiny legs gripping the fabric of his hoodie. The sight made you gasp, your tears momentarily forgotten. “That okay, pretty girl?” Trent whispered, his voice soft and almost hesitant. He didn’t move, afraid of disturbing the fragile moment unfolding between you. You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. “Supposed to be with you,” Trent continued, his voice barely above a murmur. “Take care of you. Love you. I know that.” He paused when he noticed your eyes weren’t locked on his anymore. His gaze shifted to the butterfly, his lips curving into a small, reverent smile. “And she knew that.” He cooed softly. Your heart clenched as you realized the significance of the creature perched so serenely on him. It wasn’t just a butterfly—it was a sign, a reminder of your mum, of her love, her presence, and her belief in you. Your fingers trembled as you reached out, brushing them lightly against Trent’s arm.
“I miss her so much.” You sniffled. “I can tell she’s here though,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I can feel her.” Trent nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.
“I know, baby.” He whispered. You blinked, tears blurring your vision, and suddenly remembered the earrings he’d given you—the ones you’d worn so often without fully understanding their significance. They were just like the butterfly: delicate, blue, shimmering. A quiet tribute to your mum, a connection between the past and the future.
“She always knew I loved you,” you murmured, your voice gaining strength. “Even now I feel like she pushes me to remember that it’s always been you… Even when it shouldn’t work.” You whimpered. Trent shifted slightly, tilting his head to get a better look at the butterfly as it fluttered its wings.
“It should work. I will make it work. She knew that I would take care of you, that I’m supposed to take care of you,” he said, his voice steady now. “And I will, Y/N. I promise because I love you.” The emotion in his voice shattered the last of your defenses. You stepped into him fully, burying your face in his chest as your tears soaked into his shirt. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you like he never wanted to let go.
“I love you,” you sniffled, the words muffled but clear. Trent pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering.
“I love you more than you will ever know, more than I could ever even begin to tell you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. The butterfly finally took flight, fluttering upward toward the glass ceiling. You both watched it go, its wings catching the light as it disappeared into the rafters. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. When you turned back to Trent, he was already looking at you, his expression filled with so much love and determination that it made your knees weak. “C’mere. My perfect pretty girl,” he cooed, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. “Love you so so much.” He whispered almost to himself as his other hand pulled your head into his chest. He kissed your hair again and again. The way you smelt, the way you felt, it all felt like a dream. It didn’t make sense that this was real but as you marginally separated he opened the door to exit the green house reality came crashing back down. The light catching your cheekbone, a tear streak stain on your cheek, a painful reminder of how very real you were. How very real the hurt he had caused was. You were real and you were his and he’d do anything to keep you safe.
“T…?” you questioned softly, your voice barely audible as your fingers curled around his hand. The two of you walked slowly along the winding paths of the park, the faint rustling of leaves and the distant laughter of children filling the quiet space between you.
“Yeah, pretty girl?” he hummed, glancing down at you, his dark eyes full of warmth despite the tension lingering between you. You hesitated, your steps faltering for a moment.
“I’m… I’m scared of Josh. That video getting out would be so bad for you,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the path in front of you. The words felt heavy, and saying them out loud made the fear all the more real. Trent stopped walking, turning to face you. He placed his hands gently on your arms, his thumbs stroking soothingly over the fabric of your sweatshirt.
“Y/N, baby,” he began, his voice low and steady, “I would risk my life, my career—everything—to protect you. And I’m so sorry that trying to do that ended up hurting you. I swear with my whole heart, that piece of shit will never hurt you again. He can’t even get close to my baby, alright? I gotcha.” The conviction in his voice and the fierce protectiveness in his eyes made your heart clench. You nodded, leaning into him as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you tightly into his side. The spring breeze carried the scent of his cologne, wrapping you in a cocoon of safety and comfort.
“Okay,” you murmured, though the unease still lingered in your chest. After a moment of silence, you tilted your head up to look at him. “Are we going to have to hide again?” you asked hesitantly, the thought of going back to a secret relationship filling you with dread. Trent’s grip on you tightened slightly, his arm anchoring you to him. You had so many questions you almost felt bad asking them but Trent felt worse having to answer them, it should’ve never come to this.
“No, pretty girl,” he said firmly. “I’ll protect you, alright? No more hiding. We’re doing this right. You and me.” His words brought a flicker of warmth to your chest, melting away some of the fear.
“Okay,” you whispered again, your lips curling into a small smile. “So… I’m your girlfriend again?” you asked playfully, a hint of mischief creeping into your tone. Trent chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest.
“You’ve always been my girl,” he murmured, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your temple. Your cheeks warmed, and you let out a quiet giggle.
“Good,” you said, squeezing his waist. “Because I want you to be my boyfriend.”
“Glad we’re on the same page,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. You walked in comfortable silence for a while, the park’s serene atmosphere working its magic on your frayed nerves. The weight of the past few days still hung over you, but in his presence, it felt a little lighter, a little easier to bear. “Thank you for listening…understanding,” Trent spoke after a while, his tone soft but serious. “I know that night was hard—harder than I can even imagine on you. For me too. I just… I was trying to protect my pretty girl.” You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity etched into his face.
“I’ve always waited. I understand,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I do.” Unable to resist the pull of his warmth, you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding onto him as if he were the only thing tethering you to the ground. He didn’t seem to mind—if anything, he held you just as tightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as the two of you slowly made your way out of the park. For the first time in days, you felt a small spark of hope. Maybe the two of you could get through this. But maybe, just maybe, as you felt relationship coming up, you'd also be reminded of that little video of you going down still existing on Josh's phone.
•
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Next part - Chapter 22 xx
#trent alexander arnold#Trent Alexander Arnold x reader#alexander arnold#trent alexander arnold imagines#taa x reader#footballer x y/n#footballer x reader#fie fic#Movie Night Fic
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A little something I wrote based on this moment, soon to appear in my New Earth novelization at some point:
Welcome Back
Air burst out of Rose’s lungs with a cry as she felt the last of Cassandra leave her. Like a cloth ripped from its tabletop, the world fell out from under her feet, all that mountainous pressure on her skull abruptly dissolving itself into a numb puddle.
She was back. Back in Ward 26; dizzy and nauseous, walls spinning around her in a sickly white sheen. She staggered; feeling her joints collapse into jelly as every one of her scattered senses, along with all the day’s hardships rolled up into one – the running, the body-swapping, the grueling climb up the ladder and that breakneck plunge down the lift shaft – came roaring back all at once.
It was too much. With a weak little gasp, Rose’s eyes rolled back into her head and then she was falling, spent at last, to the ground.
‘Whoops!’
Strong, damp arms seized her around the middle before she could hit the floor. Rose tried to get her legs back under her, but only ended up stumbling deeper into the arms’ embrace.
Jack, they reminded her of Jack. As she struggled to remember who Jack was, she breathed him in and her nausea subsided.
Doctor.
He was heaving her back to her feet, hands tight around her shoulders to keep her steady, his face full of concern. ‘There you go. You alright?’
It was only then that Rose registered his shivery wet suit and the alarming lack of distance between them. Blushing furiously, she quickly made to step back, to assure him she was fine, she could stand on her own, thanks – only to immediately keel over again as her knees buckled.
‘Whoa!’ The Doctor swooped in to catch Rose a second time, almost going down with her, too. He hoisted her back up again and held her close, both hands secure around her waist like they were in a strange sort of dance.
‘I’ve got you,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I’ve got you.’
She clung to him, head flopping against his shoulder as she fought to get her breath back, utterly exhausted. It was going to take her a while to shake off the after-effects of the psycho-graft, given how long it had been used on her. What little the Doctor could see of her face was pale and waxy, and the psychic trauma had left an unnatural chill on her skin.
But it was her; it was definitely Rose. She was back. Safe. Alive. Unblemished by any disease. The Doctor could smell the scents in her hair, inhaling faint traces of sweat, perfume, disinfectant and… apple-grass. The very same apple-grass the two of them had lain in together, just a handful of hours ago.
Apple-grass, mega-cities, even cat-nurses… Rose had been so thrilled by it all! Thrilled as she always was by everything, wherever and whenever they traveled – even just to have chips, right after seeing the end of the world. Back on their ‘first date’ together.
Back when he’d been the old Doctor.
‘Come on,’ he urged, trying to get Rose to focus on him. ‘Look at me.’
Weary brown eyes blinked back at him, their normal bright shade having returned. The Doctor hadn’t even noticed it was missing while Cassandra had been mucking around in there, but the difference was obvious now.
‘Okay?’ he asked her gently.
Rose nodded, still desperately out of breath. ‘Y–Yeah…’
She felt as if she’d run a mile; her head throbbed painfully, and there was a slight buzzing in her left ear.
But no longer any sign of Cassandra. She had simply… moved on.
The Doctor was still holding her up. Still had both his arms around her; keeping her safe, keeping her steady. Feeling a bit stronger now, Rose got her bearings, gathered herself together – and found herself staring right into his eyes.
Those wonderful dark eyes; brown like hers. How deep they seemed to go…
And almost before she could stop herself, Rose was grinning goofily up at him. ‘Hello!’
God, that sounded so… odd. But it was worth it; just to see the Doctor smile back. For him to look at her like this, like she was someone worth caring for.
‘Hello,’ he beamed. ‘How’s the head?’
‘Alright, yeah…’ Rose gave a nervous giggle and poked her tongue out at him between her teeth. ‘Not heard you complaining yet!’
Now it was the Doctor’s turn to laugh. ‘That’s more like it! Welcome back.’
For a moment the two of them just looked at each other, faces lit up with a mutual joy and relief and unspeakable pleasure at being alive. The Doctor appeared to be fighting the urge to crush her into a hug and spin her around – but maybe, thought Rose, she wouldn’t really have minded.
It was like meeting him all over again, for the very first time. New man, different face. She’d said so herself, only today.
Was he, though? All the newness they’d had today; New Earth, New New Doctor – but some things hadn’t changed at all. Rose could see it in his smile, and feel it in his arms and hear it in his laugh. Everything changes during regeneration, the Doctor had told her. Every single cell. But not this. Not this time.
‘I missed you,’ she heard herself say. ‘Thought she was… y’know, gonna stay inside me forever…’
‘I know.’ She felt him squeeze her a little tighter. ‘Lucky for you, I’m brilliant and solved it all!’
‘How d’you mean…? What happened to all those sick people?’
‘Chemistry,’ the Doctor said happily. ‘When in doubt, Rose Tyler, you’ve gotta have chemistry.’
Rose sighed. ‘Never a day off with you, is there?’
‘Nope! Exciting, that’s me!’ He blinked, gave her an extra squeeze for good measure, and at last made to disengage himself.
But Rose couldn’t quite let go of him yet. ‘Doctor?’
She was staring up at him, and the Doctor stared back, his face inches from her own.
‘Yes?’
There were, Rose realized, so many important things she had to ask him. Things she had to say. Apologize for, even.
She – possessed she, but she all the same – had tried to kill the Doctor today. She’d tried to blackmail the Sisters of Plenitude. She’d released the plague-victims, the human test-subjects, and nearly caused an epidemic across the whole of New New York.
She already knew what the Doctor would say: ethics and formulae; glib stuff like ‘under the influence’ and ‘not in your right mind’ to make her feel better. And in a way he was right; none of it had been her fault – technically. But that didn’t stop her feeling guilty.
At the same time, Rose wondered if she should tell him. About what she’d done. About some of the more awkward memories which were now coming back to her piecemeal. Memories of playing with his tie, of calling him ‘lady-killer’ and ‘lover boy’.
And one particularly vivid memory of snogging him…
But there really was something electric in the way he looked at her, wasn’t there? Something in his eyes that said everything the silence between them couldn’t – and more. Rose had followed the Doctor into the TARDIS for all the wonders of the cosmos he had promised her, and the new man they came with now didn’t change any of that.
She could fall, and he would be there to pick her up. Every time.
For one giddy moment earlier today, she’d managed to tell the Doctor how much she loved traveling with him. But if there was something else she’d wanted to say – to say out loud – then she knew she had to say it, and she had to say it right now…
But if she did, would things ever be the same?
Rose took a deep breath. ‘Doctor, I––’
‘Oh, sweet Lord! I’m a walking doodle!’
DOCTOR WHO | 2.01
#dwgif#doctor who#dw#tenrose#ten x rose#doctor x rose#timepetals#tenth doctor#rose tyler#tvandfilm#his hands on her wwwwaaaist#new earth#lady cassandra#billie piper#david tennant#fanfic#declaration of love#doctor who series 2#dw fandom#dw fanfic#swoon#in your arms#in his arms#reunited#welcome back
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Hi bub!!!
I was thinking experienced!reader X inexperienced!Ominis who secretly (pretty obviously actually) has a crush on her. When she then catches him in the undercroft touching himself while whispering her name, she decides to help him…
| Whispers in the Undercroft
Masterlist
[Ominis Gaunt x Reader]
warnings: MDNI, characters are 18+, handjob, oral(m receiving) inexperienced!ominis x experienced!reader.
words: 1,5k
a/n: ehehehe mar... i had so much fun writing this for you pookie! i hope you enjoy my first time writing ominis and i hope it's good!
The quiet corridors of Hogwarts carried an eerie stillness after dark, and the Underroft—hidden away from the prying eyes of the castle’s inhabitants—was a sanctuary that few knew existed. It was your sanctuary, a secret haven where you could gather your thoughts, away from the whispers and mundane chatter of daily life. Recently, however, you’d noticed that someone else had taken to retreating here. Ominis Gaunt.
Ominis had always intrigued you. He was reserved, with an air of refinement that stood out amidst the chaos of your peers. His pale eyes, though sightless, seemed to see through to one’s very soul. And though his demeanor was often stoic, you’d caught moments when he faltered in your presence—a slight flush of his cheeks, the way his hands fidgeted with his wand, or how his lips parted as if to speak only to close them again.
Tonight, curiosity had brought you here earlier than usual, your steps light and deliberate as you descended into the secret chamber. You’d expected to find solitude but instead were met with a sound that made you pause mid-step. A low, muffled groan drifted from the corner of the room, a sound so intimate it made your breath catch. You stepped closer, heart pounding, and the sight before you rendered you motionless.
Ominis stood near the stone wall, his back turned to you, one hand braced against the cool surface. The other hand moved with a rhythm that left no room for misunderstanding. His head was bowed, pale strands of hair sticking to his forehead as he whispered—your name. The sound of it, so soft yet laced with yearning, sent a shiver coursing through you. He hadn’t noticed your presence, too lost in his own world of desire.
Your first instinct was to retreat, to give him privacy, but something rooted you in place. It wasn’t just the sight of him—vulnerable and utterly entranced—but the realization that this carefully composed young man, who always seemed so composed and aloof, had been harboring thoughts of you. It was intoxicating.
“Ominis,” you called softly, your voice cutting through the silence.
He froze. His movements stilled, and his head whipped around in your direction, face pale with horror. “I… I didn’t hear you come in,” he stammered, his voice shaking as he adjusted his robes hastily, his hands trembling. “I… I didn’t mean…”
“It’s alright,” you said, stepping closer, your tone calm and deliberate. “You don’t need to explain anything.”
His lips parted, but no words came. His face was a mix of mortification and desperation, his pale cheeks flushed a deep crimson. You stopped a few steps away from him, giving him enough space to breathe but close enough that he could feel your presence.
“Ominis,” you murmured, your voice softer now, almost coaxing. “You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?”
“I… yes,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His head bowed, and his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve. “I’m sorry. I… shouldn’t have…”
“Don’t apologise,” you interrupted gently, closing the distance between you. Your hand reached out, brushing against his arm, and he flinched at the contact before stilling. “It’s alright, Ominis. You don’t have to hide how you feel.”
His breath hitched, his sightless eyes turning in your direction as if trying to read your expression. You stepped closer still, your hand trailing up his arm to rest against his chest. His heart thundered beneath your palm, its rapid rhythm betraying his nervous anticipation.
“Let me help you,” you offered, your voice low and inviting.
His lips parted in shock, his head shaking slightly. “You don’t have to…”
“I want to,” you assured him, your hand slipping to take hold of his. You guided him to sit on the edge of the cold stone bench, your movements deliberate yet gentle, giving him time to process. His breathing quickened, but he didn’t protest, his hands gripping the edge of the seat as if it were the only thing grounding him.
Kneeling before him, you looked up, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and trembling lips. He was beautiful in his vulnerability, his usual composure stripped away to reveal the raw, unguarded man beneath. Your hands moved to the folds of his robes, fingers deft as you unfastened the fabric to reveal the source of his tension. His body responded to your touch, the evidence of his longing plain and unyielding.
You let your fingers trail along his length, exploring him with an almost reverent curiosity. He gasped at the contact, his hips jerking slightly as his hands gripped the bench tighter. “Relax,” you whispered, your tone soothing as you leaned forward, your breath ghosting over him.
Your lips brushed against him, tentative at first, testing his reaction. His entire body tensed before relaxing into the sensation, a low groan escaping his lips. Encouraged, you took him further, your tongue tracing over his cock in deliberate, slow motions. You relished the way his breathing hitched, how his head tilted back, and the quiet murmurs of your name that spilled from his lips like a chant.
You kept your movements measured, savoring each reaction you drew from him. Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, complementing the rhythm of your lips as you alternated between soft, teasing touches and firmer strokes. His hips shifted slightly, his body seeking more of the pleasure you were so expertly offering.
“You feel incredible,” you murmured between motions, your voice low and filled with heat. Your words seemed to drive him further into his haze, his fingers flexing against the bench as if he were trying to maintain control.
“I… I don’t…” he started, his voice trembling, but the words dissolved into a gasp as you shifted your angle, focusing your attention on the places that made him shudder the most. “Please…” he whispered, his tone pleading, though even he didn’t seem certain of what he was asking for.
“I’ve got you,” you reassured him, your free hand reaching up to intertwine with his. The touch grounded him, his grip tightening as he surrendered completely to the sensations. You could feel the tension in his body building, the way his breathing grew more erratic, and the soft, desperate noises escaping his lips became more frequent.
But you didn’t rush. Instead, you took your time, prolonging his pleasure as you explored every inch of him with your tongue and hands. The air was thick with the sounds of his labored breaths and the quiet murmurs of your name. When you finally quickened your pace, it was with purpose, each movement calculated to push him closer to the edge while still holding him there, teetering in that delicious state of anticipation.
“You’re doing so well,” you praised, your voice like a soothing balm against the intensity of his experience. His entire body trembled under your touch, his head tilting back as he let out a broken moan.
Finally, when you sensed he couldn’t hold back any longer, you pushed him over the edge, your movements unrelenting as you guided him through the climax. His release came in shuddering waves, his body arching as he let out a raw, unguarded groan. You stayed with him, your touch gentle as you eased him back down, your hand stroking soothing patterns along his thigh.
As his body stilled, you lowered your hand, brushing your fingers lightly against his tip. A glistening trace of him lingered on your skin, and before he could react, you brought your finger to your lips, letting your tongue dart out to taste him. The heat in his cheeks deepened, his breath catching audibly.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and embarrassment.
A sly smile curved your lips. “Tasting you,” you said simply, your tone carrying a playful edge. You leaned closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re sweeter than I expected.”
His jaw slackened, and he swallowed hard, his fingers tightening their grip on the bench as if he weren’t sure what to do with himself. “I… I didn’t know,” he murmured, his voice tinged with wonder.
You reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face, your touch lingering. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Ominis,” you teased gently. “But I’m more than happy to teach you.”
When it was over, he slumped against the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You sat back on your heels, watching him with a soft smile as you adjusted his robes back into place, your fingers lingering briefly on his trembling hands. His cheeks were still flushed, his expression a mix of exhaustion and wonder as he turned his sightless gaze in your direction.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but sincere.
You reached out again, this time cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing against his skin. “Anytime, Ominis,” you replied, your voice gentle but laced with a promise. The connection between you, once unspoken, now felt undeniable.
#tomriddleswhcre#꒰୨୧◞ 。𝘮'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴⠀.ᐟ#tomriddleswhcre loves viperify#devider by anitalenia#ominis gaunt#ominis gaunt x reader#ominis gaunt x reader smut#ominis smut#hogwarts legacy ominis#hogwarts legacy#slytherin x reader#slytherin smut#hp smut#smutty fanfiction#ominis x reader#hogwarts legacy fiction#smut fic#smut#ask#gaunt smut#gaunt
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𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 | se-mi (player 380) × fem!reader
summary | you are saved by player 380 during the 'red light, green light' game. they form an alliance to survive
warnings | intense fear and suspense, gunshots and loud noises, psychological tension and distrust, temporary alliance for survival
word count | 1.6 k
author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩
The air is heavy, thick like a storm about to burst. You don't remember how you got here. You only know that the white walls and oppressive silence leave no room for thoughts. You’re surrounded by strangers, all wearing the same expression: fear and desperation. Your legs tremble as you try to convince yourself that this is all a dream. A bad dream you’ll wake from.
The mechanical voice announces the beginning of the first game. You line up with the others, your heart pounding wildly. A massive figure, a doll with braids, watches you from the other end of the field. The contrast between her childish voice and the threat she represents turns your stomach.
“Red light, green light.”
The phrase sounds innocent, but the first burst of gunfire shatters any illusion. You watch people fall like ragdolls. The ground turns red, and the air fills with muffled screams. You want to run, scream, but your legs won’t respond.
You don’t dare move. Not yet.
When the doll turns her head, you feel cold sweat trickle down your neck. You force yourself to take one step, then another. Every time the doll sings, the world seems to freeze. You barely breathe. The fear is a knot in your throat that threatens to choke you.
Around you, people move with the same caution. Some stagger, others barely hide their panic. Every gunshot makes you jump.
You take another step. Just one more, you tell yourself. But then it happens.
Someone behind you trips. You don’t know who, or what made them fall, but the impact is enough to push you forward. Your arms flail in the air as you lose your balance. You see the ground coming, and think: *This is the end.*
Before you can hit the ground, a hand grabs you firmly.
A girl. Her face is serious, her eyes dark and focused. She doesn’t say anything, just stabilizes you with a swift motion, making sure you don’t fall.
The doll’s song ends just as you manage to stand still. Your breath is chaotic, but she doesn’t release your arm.
“Stay still,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.
The silence is absolute as the doll turns its head. You feel like your heart will explode. When she finally starts singing again, the girl lets go of your arm and takes a step forward.
“Come,” she says, without looking at you.
You hesitate for a moment, but her words carry a weight you can’t ignore. You follow her.
She moves with calculated, precise movements. She seems to know exactly how to move, how to stay in control. You, on the other hand, stagger with every step, and fear threatens to paralyze you.
“Don’t fall behind,” she says, her tone brooking no argument.
You nod, though you’re not sure if she can see you. You try to imitate her rhythm, keep her pace. But it’s difficult. The doll’s song, the gunshots, the screams… everything mixes into a deafening noise that fills your head.
You take another step. Another. The end of the field seems as far away as the horizon.
You stop when she does, and every time the doll sings, you try not to breathe. You know that any movement, no matter how small, could be your last.
The girl keeps moving, and you follow her as if your life depends on it. Because, in reality, it does.
Then, the finish line appears on the horizon. It’s so close, yet so far.
“Run when I do,” she says. Her voice is low, but firm.
“What?” you murmur, dazed.
“Just do it.”
The song starts again, and you freeze. The seconds feel like hours. Every fiber of your being is tense, waiting for the moment when she moves.
When she does, you run after her.
Your legs burn, your heart races uncontrollably, but you don’t stop. Every step is a fight against time.
“Let’s go!” she shouts, glancing back to make sure you’re following.
The line is just a few meters away, but the song ends before you can reach it. You both freeze in place.
Silence returns, broken only by the gunshots behind you. You don’t dare look. You can’t.
When the song starts again, she grabs your hand.
“Run,” she says.
And you do. Together, you cross the line just as the song ends for the last time.
You collapse onto the ground, unable to hold yourself up. Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath. Around you, the screams and gunshots continue, but you can’t process them.
She kneels beside you, still holding your hand. Her breath is heavy, but her face remains as serious as ever.
“Thank you…” you whisper, your voice breaking.
She looks at you for a moment, then nods.
“Don’t fall behind again,” she says. Her tone isn’t kind, but it’s not cold either.
You try to smile, though your lips tremble.
“I’ll try.”
She doesn’t respond but doesn’t let go of your hand.
The world around you starts to calm, but you can’t shake the chaos inside. Player 380 stands next to you, staring at you with an unreadable expression. Finally, she turns, as if nothing happened.
“Wait,” you manage to say, shakily getting up.
She doesn’t stop.
“Hey!” you insist, taking a few quick steps toward her. You catch up to her before she can merge with the group that’s now gathering at the end of the field.
Player 380 turns, her dark eyes watching you with a mix of irritation and exhaustion.
“What?”
Her tone is cold, but you’re not intimidated. Not after what just happened.
“Thank you for saving me. You didn’t have to, but you did.”
“I did it because I didn’t want you to get me killed with your clumsy moves,” she replies, shrugging.
You know she’s not entirely serious. You see something in her eyes, something she’s reluctant to admit. You don’t want to let the moment slip away.
“Still, you helped me. Don’t forget, I owe you one.”
Se-mi looks at you in silence for a few seconds that feel eternal. Finally, she lets out a sigh and shakes her head.
“Do what you want, but don’t follow me.”
“Why not? If we work together, we have a better chance of surviving.”
“Work together?” she repeats, as if the idea seems strange to her. She looks toward the group, then toward the doll, which stands still in the distance. Finally, her attention returns to you. There’s a pause, as if she’s considering your words.
“This isn’t a team game,” she finally says.
“But it could be if you and I make one,” you reply quickly, holding on to the small opening you sense in her attitude.
Se-mi frowns, clearly uncomfortable. But she doesn’t pull away.
“Listen, I don’t trust anyone here,” she says.
“Neither do I,” you admit. “But I’m not going to survive alone. And neither are you.”
She lets out another sigh, this time longer, as if giving in to the idea.
“Alright. An alliance. But only for convenience.”
“Only for convenience,” you repeat, though deep down, you feel a small spark of relief.
“And one more thing,” Se-mi adds, pointing a finger at you. “If you start acting like a burden, I’ll leave you behind.”
You nod, understanding that this is her way of protecting herself.
“Okay.”
“What’s your name?” she asks finally, though the question seems to cost her.
You hesitate for a moment before saying it. She nods, but doesn’t offer hers.
“Stay close,” she murmurs.
For the first time since you entered this hellish place, you feel like you have a small chance of getting out alive. In a place where trust can cost you your life, you decide that risking it with her will be your best bet.
For now.
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Promise Me
Sebastian Sallow x GN reader
Summary: After a dangerous encounter with dark wizards leaves you injured and recovering in the Hogwarts hospital wing, Sebastian sneaks in to check on you. Words are spoken and unresolved feelings linger in the air.
Context: This is a continuation of my other fic but it can be read as a stand alone. This happens after the Slytherin Scriptorium quest.
Part One | Part two
You told yourself you needed rest. After enduring the searing pain of Crucio, you vowed to take a break—you deserved it.
But the following days offered little reprieve. Owls arrived incessantly, each carrying a plea for your help. Natsai wrote seeking assistance with her plans. Poppy begged for aid against poachers threatening magical creatures. Even Amit, ever the dreamer, invited you to stargaze.
You kept yourself busy, shoving aside your exhaustion and pushing through each task with determination. It wasn’t until you confronted a group of dark wizards in a grueling battle that the toll became undeniable. Victory was yours, but your body, battered and strained, finally gave in.
So, when you dragged yourself back to Natty, looking half-dead and barely upright, her reaction was immediate and fierce.
“You’re going straight to the nurse!” she demanded, her voice leaving no room for argument.
You tried to wave her off, mumbling something about chugging down some Wiggenweld potions will fix you, but the wobble in your step betrayed your words. Natty wasn’t having it. She grabbed your arm—not unkindly, but with enough force to let you know she wasn’t backing down.
So here you are, lying in the hospital wing.
Nurse Blainey gave you an earful when you arrived all bruised up. Neither you nor Natty dared to fully explain how the two of you had snuck off to track Rookwood and Harlow’s movements, only to be ambushed by dark wizards along the way.
So instead, you both decided to stick to a safer story: “It was a bad broom accident,” Natty had said smoothly.
You’d nodded along, adding, “We snuck out to fly in the middle of the night... it got out of hand.”
Nurse Blainey had narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but she let it slide—perhaps for her own peace of mind.
Now you’re left lying there, the quiet hum of the hospital wing giving you too much time to think.
Three days had passed since Sebastian, Ominis, and you ventured into the dungeons in search of Salazar Slytherin’s Scriptorium.
You hadn’t seen either of them since. The silence was deafening—no passing glances in the halls, no shared whispers in the common room. Even when you forced yourself to attend classes, neither Sebastian nor Ominis was there.
You were guessing that Sebastian had immersed himself into studying the spellbook and Omnis probably took a few days off to grieve his aunt’s death.
With a sigh, you sank deeper into the medical bed. You closed your eyes, desperate for sleep, but it was a futile effort. Someone else in the ward was snoring so loudly you might as well have been trying to rest beside a giant purple toad.
You groaned softly, shifting under the covers, when another sound caught your attention. Beneath the snoring, you could just make out a faint, irregular rattling noise. It was subtle, almost like the whisper of wind slipping through a cracked window, but there were no windows open in the hospital wing.
Focusing, you noticed the rattling sound was coming from the door. You sat up slightly, straining to listen, your heart quickening in your chest.
Suddenly, with a soft click, the door to the hospital wing slid open.
You squinted, your eyes narrowing as you peered through the dim light. Was it your imagination, or had you seen a figure crouching just inside the doorway? But when you blinked, it was gone.
Maybe it was just the nurse. Perhaps she’d forgotten to lock the door when she left for the evening. You didn’t think too deeply about it as you slid out of bed, intending to close the door yourself.
Still, a nagging feeling gnawed at you, the distinct sensation of being watched crawling up your spine. Perhaps the dark wizards had done a real number on you this time, leaving your mind jumpy and suspicious.
You barely reached the door when, out of nowhere, a pair of hands shot out from thin air, grabbing you.
Instinctively, you prepared to fight back, adrenaline surging as you opened your mouth to scream—only for the hands to clasp over your lips before a sound escaped.
“Shhhh, it’s me,” a familiar voice whispered urgently.
Your eyes widened as, piece by piece, his body materialized before you. First the outline of a face, then the curve of a smirk you recognized anywhere.
Sebastian.
“Oh, Merlin’s beard!” you hissed, your voice trembling between relief and frustration. “I was about to obliterate you into oblivion—oh, for gods’ sake, what are you doing here, Sebastian?”
His smirk widened, though there was a sheepish glint in his eyes. “I used Disillusionment to sneak in here,” he said matter-of-factly, as though sneaking into the hospital wing in the dead of night was entirely reasonable. “It was to come see you, of course.”
“Of course,” you echoed, rolling your eyes. “Because breaking into the hospital wing and scaring me half to death is such a normal way to check in on someone.”
Sebastian chuckled softly, the sound a strange mix of genuine amusement and something heavier, like guilt or worry. “Well, you weren’t exactly making it easy to find you,” he admitted. “And... I needed to make sure you were okay.”
“It was Imelda,” Sebastian said, his tone dripping with irritation. “She was going on about how she’s still the best flyer in the school, bragging endlessly as usual. And then she mentioned you.”
“Me?” you asked
He nodded “Apparently, someone told her you got into a broom accident and were lying in the hospital wing injured. Of course, she couldn’t resist turning it into another chance to proclaim herself the reigning champion of Slytherin—but that isn’t the point.”
“I didn’t believe it,” he continued, almost hesitant. “You? Getting into a flying accident? That sounded about as plausible as a troll performing ballet. So, I started thinking... maybe it wasn’t a broom accident. Maybe it had something to do with me.”
You stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.
“With the Crucio curse,” he finished, his voice laced with guilt. “I thought... maybe it was still affecting you somehow. Maybe that’s why you’re here.”
You almost wanted to laugh if it wasn’t for how serious Sebastian looked.
Before you could open your mouth to explain, a loud cough from another patient in the ward snapped both of you to attention. Your eyes darted to the other beds, realizing just how precarious this situation was. If anyone caught Sebastian here, it wouldn’t just be you getting scolded—it could mean serious trouble for him.
Sebastian glanced toward the source of the noise “Let’s go somewhere more hidden,” he whispered.
You nodded the ache in your limbs made you stumble a bit. He reached out instinctively, steadying you as you followed him to a secluded corner of the ward. The hospital dividers provided a decent amount of cover, though you both moved carefully to avoid drawing attention.
Once hidden, Sebastian let out a soft breath. “Alright,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Talk to me. What’s really going on? And don’t you dare say it’s a broom accident.”
You hesitated, glancing at him, the shadows of the makeshift corner making his expression harder to read. But the concern in his voice, the way he leaned slightly toward you, told you he wouldn’t let this go until he had answers.
You let out a heavy sigh. Lying to Sebastian felt impossible, even if you wanted to.
“It was Rookwood and Ranrok,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Natty said she found a lead—something she thought would be worth investigating. We thought it’d be a quick look, nothing too dangerous.”
“But we ran into dark wizards along the way,” you continued, swallowing hard. “And, well... it didn’t end greatly. We fought, but there were too many of them. Natty managed to get away unscathed, but I wasn’t so lucky.” You gestured vaguely at yourself, at the bandages and bruises.
“Fool—” Sebastian snapped, his tone sharp and cutting. “You should have asked for help. Rushing in like that was reckless and downright stupid.”
Part of you understood his anger—it came from a place of concern—but the way he spoke to you only added fuel to your own frustration. You straightened slightly, your voice defensive as you shot back, “It’s not like I had a whole lot of options, Sebastian. I didn’t exactly have a list of people ready to step in and help.”
His eyes narrowed, but before he could retort, you continued, your tone laced with exasperation. “And let’s not forget—you practically disappeared after the Scriptorium. I didn’t even know if you were okay, let alone where to find you. Besides, Natty asked for my help, not yours.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, then hesitated, guilt flickering across his face.
“I—” he began, but his usual confidence faltered, his voice quieter now. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that betrayed his unease. “Listen, I wanted to visit you and Ominis, I really did. But that spellbook we found?” He paused, his eyes lighting up with an intensity that was both familiar and unsettling. “It’s incredible. I’ve uncovered so much—magic and spells that are never taught at Hogwarts.”
You could hear the fervor in his tone, the way his words quickened, tinged with both excitement and desperation.
“And I know—” he continued, his voice growing more resolute, “I know that somewhere in those pages lies the answer to Anne’s curse. Something that no one else has tried. Something that might actually work.”
He looked back at you, his expression softer now, the fire in his eyes tempered by guilt. “I didn’t mean to disappear,” he admitted quietly. “I just... I didn’t know how to face you after that. After everything we went through in the Scriptorium.”
A silence stretched between you, heavy and full of unspoken words. The faint sound of the other patients’ breathing and the occasional rustle of sheets were the only noises that broke the stillness.
You wanted to say something, to fill the void, but the weight of his confession left you momentarily speechless. The vulnerability in his tone was so unlike the Sebastian you were used to—the confident, sometimes cocky boy who always seemed to have a plan.
Finally, you found your voice. “Sebastian...” you began, your tone gentle but firm. “I get it. I know how much Anne means to you, and I know you’ll do anything to help her. But you can’t shut people out—I won’t stop you in your pursuit, but just... be careful, alright?”
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Could say the same thing right back at you.”
You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips despite the tension. “Touché.”
Sebastian’s smile lingered, but the weight of everything unsaid still hung in the air. “I mean it,” he said after a beat. “You’re the one lying in a hospital bed right now, not me. You need to be careful too. I don’t think I could handle...” He trailed off, his gaze steady with yours.
“You won’t lose me, Sebastian,” you said softly, your tone steady. “I promise.”
He looked up at you then, something unspoken passing between the two of you. For a moment, it felt like the world outside the hospital wing didn’t exist—the dark wizards, the curse, the spellbook. It was just the two of you, sharing a fragile but meaningful connection.
Perhaps the two of you were too absorbed in the moment, lost in the intensity of the conversation and the connection you shared, to notice the time slipping by. It wasn’t until the faint glow of dawn began to filter through the hospital wing’s windows that you realized how long Sebastian had been there.
The quiet creak of the door opening made your stomach drop. Nurse Blainey stepped inside, a clipboard in hand as she began her early morning rounds, her sharp eyes scanning the ward.
You turned to Sebastian, panic flickering in your gaze. “You need to go. I’ll distract her. You sneak out. I can’t have you caught twice because of me.”
“Wait!” Sebastian grabbed your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Before you go, I—” He hesitated, fumbling inside his robes. “I wanted to give you this. Honestly, I thought you’d be asleep when I came in, but...”
He reached into his robes and pulled something out. It was a crumpled piece of parchment, which he pressed into your hand.
“Before you say anything,” he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable, “just... read it later, when you’re alone.”
You stared at the note in your hand, your mind racing with questions, but the look in his eyes stopped you from prying further. There was something raw there, something he wasn’t ready to say aloud.
You hear Nurse Blainey walking closer now, “Sebastian,” you whispered urgently, “you need to go. Now.”
With a reluctant nod, he began to activate his Disillusionment Charm again, the shimmer of magic cloaking his figure. Before he disappeared entirely, he whispered, “Be careful. And thank you.”
You gave Sebastian a small smile before turning and walking away from the corner to Nurse Blainey. She was definitely mad, seeing you up and walking around despite her clear instructions to stay put.
As she continued to lecture you, saying something along the lines of, “If you’re well enough to walk around, you’re well enough to attend class,” you caught sight of the faint shimmer of Sebastian under the Disillusionment Charm.
He paused briefly, his figure lingering near the doorway. His gaze—though invisible—felt fixed on you for a fleeting moment before he quietly slipped away, disappearing into the early morning light.
You held Nurse Blainey’s gaze, nodding along to her lecture, but your thoughts were elsewhere. As the faint shimmer of Sebastian disappeared from sight, a small smile tugged at your lips.
Once she finally moved on, you scurried back to your bed and pulled out the crumpled note Sebastian had pressed into your hand. Your fingers trembled slightly as you unfolded it, revealing the hurriedly scrawled words:
“You matter more to me than you know. Don’t you dare forget that. -S”
You stared at the words, your heart tightening as you reread them. Whatever doubts you’d carried about where you stood with him, this was his answer—a truth he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud but had etched onto the parchment instead.
The sun’s rays spilled into the ward, painting everything in a soft, golden hue. For the first time in days, you felt the tension in your shoulders ease.Sebastian might be infuriatingly stubborn, but beneath it all, his heart was in the right place.
And that was enough.
For now, at least.
Author's note: i hope you enjoyed that! i'm working on the third part where omnis and the mc get more interaction.
#hogwarts legacy#sebastian sallow x reader#sebastian sallow#hogwarts legacy mc#fluff#hogwarts legacy sebastian#gender neutral reader
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Happiness [26]
chapter title: Burial Plot
a/n: i literally got the fucking writing worms the last few days. i have been non-stop. missus deserves everything because i say so and i love her. (i love you) 4.7k words
warnings: missus’s trauma and her reactions because of it. UNEDITED.
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It’s been at least two days, you were certain of that. There was a tiny window near the ceiling, shining light from dawn to dusk - the only light you were allowed while you sat in the cold basement, holding and taking care of a sick Mellie. You only slept for a few hours, wanting to listen and learn your captor’s patterns, which was what Simon always said to do.
One had heavy footsteps and didn’t do much, only went outside to piss and to smoke. Two liked to pace, he had lighter footsteps, he talked on the phone for at least twenty minutes every hour. Lloyd had loud footsteps, he was constantly talking to his henchmen or on the phone, the only time he wasn’t upstairs was when he came down to make sure you were still stuck with a miserable baby. Anger festered in your chest when you saw him, always bleeding through to the rest of your body.
The only route of escape you had was up the stairs and through the locked door. Then, you had no idea where to go from there.
Would it be better to follow the drive they take up to wherever you are? No, they could easily get in a car and grab you again. If there’s woods, you need to go into the woods.
You wiped at your face after you washed your hands in the sink of the tiny bathroom, it was nestled in the corner of the basement. It was getting darker in the basement, you had already changed Mellie again and tried to feed her but she refused. You were grateful that you were given more diapers than which you started, even if Lloyd handed them to you himself. You were more than desperate to hit him in the face, but you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. You gazed at yourself in the mirror, recognizing your face but not your eyes - fear had made its home there, terror a weight that has drowned many and you weren’t sure you were safe from that fate.
Footsteps above you again, it sounded like Lloyd. You moved out of the bathroom, the concrete beneath your feet was freezing to the touch but you barely acknowledged it, your eyes gazed upon the broken bookshelf beside the staircase. There was only two shelves, one broken and left inside of it. You’ve been looking at it during the day, thinking it may be loose enough to break free and be a weapon.
Creak, creak… click.
The sound of the lock on the basement door made you panic, you darted to your bed to pick up the sleeping Mellie - she barely stirred as you sat on the bed, holding her to your chest and watching your only exit. Your stomach knotted with anticipation, knowing Lloyd would be coming down to “chat” - to pry information about Simon out of you with a cigarette stained smile. Your hands shook, you were desperately gripping Mellie’s little onesie to try and stop it as Lloyd walked down the steps, his wickedly cruel painted on his face.
“Hello, sweethear’.”
A hand on your face made your eyes rip open, the roar in your throat grew louder and your weak arms instantly went to throw the touch off.
“Sweetheart, it’s me, it’s-“
Your push was met with a grunt, “Get off me!”
You threw more of a struggle, you could hear thundering footsteps and you pushed harder. Fight, push him off, keep Lloyd away, away, away-
“Get her on her side-“
“I’m bloody tryin’, Price, she’s not exactly workin’ with me-“
A large hand pushed your hip down, your stomach pressed into the mattress and the same hand on your face cupped your cheek. Paralysing fear pulsed in your chest, your hands were wrenched behind your back. “Get off!” You tried to throw your elbows back, kick your legs, but another pair of hands held your legs down. “Let me go! Let me go!”
“Darling, wake up, it’s me.”
All you could feel were burning hands, disgusting sweat against your face that were merely phantoms compared to this, but it was still terrifying. Your eyes screwed shut as if to hide from your attackers. This wasn’t something you could come back from, they’d tear your limb from limb and pluck the meat from your bones like the starved coyotes they were. Always staring, always wanting to poke, prod, and gnaw on any sliver of skin. “Please-“
Lloyd will kill you. He tried so hard, he’s trying again, he’ll do more than almost slit your throat in half, he’ll stab you, he’ll shoot you, he’ll-
“Watch it, Simon-“
Ice cold water splashed against your face and your eyes shot open, head twisted at an uncomfortable angle and all you could see was Gaz, kneeling beside your bed with a half empty glass of water in his hand. Pressure came from your back, your face, your legs, and you couldn’t move your head to look.
He leaned back on his legs, the sigh that escaped him sounded relieving. “She’s awake now.”
“Kyle?” The hands on your legs disappeared, the pressure on your back slid away, the hand on your cheek went from rough to soothing - it curled around your hairline and brushed the sweaty hairs back. You tilted your head a little to look back, a glimpse of blond hair entered your view. “Simon?”
“Right here.” So he’s the hand on your hair.
The water settled into the sheets before your face, the muscles in your body began to constrict and become almost brittle. The fight in your chest and mind was now long gone, a fleeting exposure to the normal fight or flight response. Fear nestled so deeply in your brain that it bled like a river when you were locked in that basement and nearly tortured. Muscles stunned into paralysis, tears flooded the plains of your cheeks. The nightmares kept getting more vivid, even worse each time, and you weren’t scared by the task force holding you down. Simon’s earned a myriad of scratches, you’ve punched Soap in your sleep, even cut Price’s face with your nails. Gaz was wise enough to be the one to wake you up, after many days of Simon doing it and you screamed so loud every time that the girls were terrified. Ice water was your idea, constraint was your husband’s - you didn’t blame him, the shock of the water would freak you out and you already feel horrible for the damage you’ve caused the family.
You’re already well aware of the exhaustion you bring too. Simon can’t leave you home alone anymore, the rest of the 141 sleep in the empty rooms in the basement just in case your husband needs help with you. Walking was difficult, eating hurt, your lungs out of breath at every turn, even thinking made you ache. He had to be nearly full-time care while he split his time up to take care of the girls, but his friends had stepped up there. It’s temporary, you kept telling yourself. You’d pay them back tenfold someday.
“Jesus, she got you good, man.”
“S’alright.” His gentle hand fled to your shoulder blades, shapes softly rubbed into them. “You alright, sweetheart?”
The sob escaped your lips before you knew it resided there, your eyes screwed shut as tears escaped. You couldn’t roll over to unpin your arm from your chest, your lungs couldn’t rise, and all you could see in your head was that room with the mold, the dirty sink, the bloody quilt, and the box you kept Mellie hidden in. Simon’s gentle rubs on your back did little to help, but it was something nonetheless. Nimble fingers tugged your hair from your face and curled it around your ear, soft words left his mouth as the sound of the bedroom door as it closed made you wince.
“It’s alright, love, you’re home.”
•••
He’s still breathing after you check for the hundredth time. A finger beneath Simon’s nose, his eyelashes fluttered as he dreamt peacefully. He’s tired, you can see it in the way he’s grown sluggish the past few days. Your fingertips ghosted over the bruise on his cheek from where you hit him in your sleep, believing he was your kidnapper and attacker then trying to fight him off. His left hand was settled on his chest, his right arm nestled around you unconsciously. Peace was only afforded at night when you were awake and watching him, crying under the moonlight when you look at all the scratches and bruises you leave on his body. He never deserved this kind of cruelty; it was one you had vowed to protect him from. Yet, the same could be said about him to you.
Your cold hand cradled his jaw, your head finally rested against the pillow again. It’d taken so much of your energy to stay awake, to try and fight the nightmares off, but as you watched your husband sleep, you wondered if you could too.
Except, your bedroom door creaked open and your head snapped to look at it. The shadowy figure held the handle with one hand, the other arm held a shadowy lump. Your hackles relaxed, knowing just how tall your daughter was and you reached an arm down the side of your bed.
“Daddy?”
“It’s just me awake, baby. Come here.”
Winnie shuffled herself into your room, you could recognize the silhouette of her favorite teddy under her arm as she took your hand. You could barely make out her face, but the moonlight reflected off of her tears. Instantly turning on your side, your hand brushed them away.
“What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?”
“You were yelling earlier.”
Your answer was immediate. “I just had a bad dream, Daddy took care of me.” An absent movement of your hand curled a lock of her hair around her ear. “I’m alright.”
She sniffled a little, her hand squeezed yours with urgency. “I had a bad dream too.”
Your heart sank, guilt began to gnaw again at your nearly empty insides. Soon it would have nothing left to digest. “C’mon, baby girl, lay up here with me.” You picked Winnie up with what strength you had left and pulled her into bed, nestled on your side. Simon needed his sleep, you decided, so you could handle this. Not that you have been lately, but you still could. Laying around and doing nothing for your children felt painful.
Winnie was quick to dig under the comforter and you nearly tucked her underneath it, and moved more towards Simon so she could have more space. Her hands gripped your loose shirt, her little face nestled on your shoulder and her bear uncomfortably shoved into your side.
“Did you wanna talk about it?”
“I don’t know… It was scary.”
You leaned down and kissed her forehead, “I’m sorry, baby. Was there a monster or was there-“
Her little hand reached up and touched your face, the numbness in your skin dissipated. “You were gone again, Mama, and-and I got really scared.” You met her eyes in the dim light, your hand brushed her tears away. Even now, you could see the true fear on your baby’s face.
“I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere ever again.”
A little cry came from her lips, “I thought you-you were gonna be like Mum Gr-Grace.”
The implosion of your heart in your stomach sounded like a thousand trains roaring right beside you, it made you nauseous. “No. No, baby, I’m not dying anytime soon. It seemed like it though, huh?”
A little nod.
“And I’m so sorry that it happened. Daddy did everything he could to keep us safe, but sometimes the bad guys are too sneaky. That’s how he got me and Mellie.”
“Uncle Koko got hurt.”
It wasn’t a good moment when König had come to see you in the hospital, his loud limp and hard time bending over. He had been shot three times in taking down a majority of the intruders and narrowly escaped death to try and protect you, which had failed. You had cried and apologized over and over, Simon squeezed your hand and the Colonel left swiftly. You cried for hours after that, sick to your stomach that he could have died for you - and it could have been in vain.
“I know. But he’s gonna be okay, just like me. I’m going to the therapist for help, you remember what a therapist is, right?”
“Yeah, they’re-they’re a doctor for your feelings.”
“Good job, duckling. And I’m getting better every day, even though I have those scary dreams too.” You took her chin in your grasp, “Winnie, I will be okay. It will take time, but I will be okay soon. Healing takes its time.”
“But… But what if Daddy gets taken too? What… What happens if Daddy can’t protect us anymore?”
“Well,” Your hand cradled her cheek as you rested your head against hers. “We have Uncle John, Soap, and Kyle. And if they can’t protect us anymore, I will. I protected your sister the same way I would protect you.”
“Then who protects you?”
��I will. Sometimes you don’t need anyone to protect you, but it’s nice to have it. It’s nice to know Daddy does everything he can.”
“But he…” Failed. Betrayed you. Left you to die.
“It was not Daddy’s fault, do you hear me? Get that out of your head. If he knew, it wouldn’t have happened.” You placed a kiss on her head. “You don’t need to think about that right now, Win. Your dream was just a dream, I’m home with you and Mellie and Daddy now. We can talk more about it in the morning, alright?”
Your daughter sniffled a little before she pulled her bear from between you, and tucked him into her elbow. “Promise?”
Your eyes fluttered shut, your nose nestled in her curls. “I promise. Go to sleep, Daddy and I’ll protect you.” Winnie nodded a little before she moved to kiss your hand.
Sleep didn’t evade you then, your dreams were fleeting and unmemorable.
•••
Almost every surface in your house is covered in flowers. Wives of soldiers who served under your husband sent them, Hell, even a few of the nice crystal vases came from König’s wife, Karo, with a beautiful handwritten note expressing her relief in your return and dismissal of your guilt. My husband does everything for his friends and their families, you are and will be no exception. The card is kept on the side of the fridge with a magnet from London.
Speaking of plants, you have three extra houseplants that come and go at all hours of the day. You were grateful for the basement, you didn’t have to displace your children so the 141 could operate out of your home. Instead, they worked out of your way; always checking in on you and your daughters, which were often met with a wave and a simple “I’m fine.” You were sure Price hasn’t seen the inside of his own house since this whole ordeal started. There was never a moment where you were alone, at least two of the task force stayed home with you. Simon hadn’t been alone in days, you’re sure of it. Taking you to and from base for the military funded therapy they so graciously provided you, you suspected he had pulled many strings to get you in somewhere as quickly as possible. It’s a toll on him, he liked to be alone sometimes and there was nowhere he could hide - not that he wanted to, it seemed. He always had to be near you, touch you, something to make sure his presence was known.
You knew it well. It wasn’t hard to miss Simon’s lurking if you tried, nor was it easy to ignore his tired and injured face. Winnie found it entertaining to decorate his scratches and bruises with her Hello Kitty bandaids and kisses pressed to them, to which he smiled after every one. She’s five and smart, the biggest heart you’ve ever seen, and it almost makes you sick just how much like Simon she is. Kind, caring, expressive, and an overall love bug. It made you excited to see if Mellie would be the same, or the baby.
That’s right. The baby.
A back burner topic that you couldn’t think about too often since everything else felt more important than your pregnancy, like your life or Mellie’s. Your hand settled on the plush of your stomach below your belly button, unknown to Simon. He hasn’t mentioned anything since they ran tests in the hospital. Maybe ignoring it would make it easier if you miscarried, which you were almost sure of when you were in that basement. There was a lot of blood and you… the blur of it made your head hurt. Mellie cried, you… You believed the baby wasn’t definite, even when the doctor told you it was - with twelve weeks under your belt to prove it. There was no point for it to stay when it had every reason to leave, when you had every reason to say it wasn’t safe for your family anymore.
Someone had added newborn diapers and clothes to the weekly grocery run by Kyle, they were both quick to hide them away as if it would set you off. You found your gaze rarely moving from the show on the TV, kept warm by your blanket and Mellie. Exhaustion crept in every moment but you fought it, you could barely eat, barely exist without help. The only thing you were good for now was comforting your children and overthinking to Hell and back.
Mellie sniffled against your chest, you looked down at her to see her swiping at her little eye. You were quick to brush her hair back, her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at you, tears in her eyes. A kiss to her forehead and she hummed contently, her hand going back to holding her pacifier that she continued to suck on. Just a quick glance to you always calmed her down and any attempt for Simon to hold her ended with ear-piercing screams. Sometimes you felt bad for him, for everything he’s enduring for the sake of taking care of the family - but the little itch in the back of your mind couldn’t care at all. The hour of need he vowed to be there for came and went with no sign of him until it was completely over and you had saved yourself. Saved the child you had without him, then his friends had saved you. Not him. And that betrayal felt like your teeth that chewed your nails down to the quick - harsh and painful.
His hand is on your ankle, his thumb rubbed tiny circles through the blanket and a part of you refused to acknowledge the comfort it provided. At least just for this moment, your husband was in no way a traitor but in the dark recesses of your mind, he was enemy number one - the most wanted man, ready to be hanged for his crimes as if he had stolen the crown jewels. The piece of innocence you once had was now shattered into a million pieces and the irrational side of your brain only had one person to blame.
The rational divide in your body craved the sanctuary of his presence, knowing there was nothing he could do - stuck on base, running interrogations in Price’s stead. He didn’t even know anything had happened until Price called him from the hospital, which a part of you was angry at Price for. The blame shifted like branches in the wind, one could not exist without the other.
The peaceful side of your body craved normalcy. The broken and bleeding side wanted to break your hand in the wall and scream at them until your throat became raw.
The gentle rubbing on your ankle turned to a soft pat, your eyes refocused on your husband as he leaned forwards, peering at you. Your face began to heat as he stared at you, like he was able to claw his way into your head and hear every word you said. “What?”
“You feelin’ okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re staring at me.”
A sigh escaped your nose. “Didn’t mean to.”
His head tilted just a little, a couple strands of hair fell away from his face as he began to study you for just a moment. He sighed too, gently rubbed your leg and looked down at Mellie. “Not nauseous or anythin’?”
Your hand instinctively went to Mellie’s back, your fingers splayed out as if to make her look smaller. “No, Simon.”
His body minutely moved back, he sat up straight and wiped at his nose. “M’gonna go shower. Be right back.” Simon quickly stood and walked away, but not without gently patting your head as he did.
His footfalls were replaced by the sound of the front door closing and heavy boots, you craned your neck to see Soap appear. The paper bags he had were shoved onto the counter, he ripped his hood off of his head and wiped his eyes, blinked a few times, then looked at you. “It’s pishin’ a doon out there.” A slight tilt to your head and he sighed, “It’s raining very hard.”
“Why didn’t you say that then?”
“Ah did.” A chuckle left his lips as he peeled off his coat, placing it on the counter. “Ye 'n' yer Simon are too alike.”
“Why?”
Soap began to dig in the bags, “Ye both ask too many questions. Him more than ye, since I like ye more than ah do him.”
You hummed, your gaze moved down to Mellie again. She’d gotten bigger since the incident and her stay in the PICU; the cold didn’t hurt her much, thanks to the flannel you wrapped around her, as well as how fast Price and his small temporary team found her and then you. The image of the rock face still hadn’t left your nightmares and neither had Price’s terrified scream for a medic.
Sometimes it felt like he was your only friend in this birdcage that was once your home. The only one who understood because he was there, he wrapped up your injuries as they bled and oozed, he stared at what you did to your kidnapper. He saved your child’s life, he saved yours, and ferociously defended his decision to keep Simon in the dark. Price was your friend. Sometimes you hated him too.
A pan clanged against the stove and you flinched, Mellie grumbled a loud and angry, “Mama.”
You pulled the blanket farther up her back, even when it freed your freezing feet. “Sorry, honey. Go back to sleep.”
She shook her head, her button nose pressed awkwardly into your chest before she looked up at you. “Seep?”
You knew better than to get her to nap on you, a particular little thing she was. It took a lot of energy to push yourself up and stand, all while still holding Mellie. The tingling in your hands grew worse with every moment, so you needed to get her upstairs to bed before you could accidentally drop her.
No, you wouldn’t drop her. You can’t drop her. She can’t walk, she can’t do much of anything other than babble, she can’t…
You inhaled through your nose before breathing out. The pungent smell of the candle in the kitchen invaded your nostrils, it made you nearly gag at the smell you once loved. You remembered lighting it that night, you remembered…
“Are ye excited for the parties?”
A look to the kitchen was met with a smiling Soap, your eyebrows furrowed and your chin instantly tucked into Mellie’s hair. The bags were gone, he was starting to cook something.
“Parties?”
He held out a spatula towards you, pointed down towards your daughter. There was no look of confusion on his face, only excitement. “Mel’s birthday party and the baby shower. We’ve been workin’ on ‘em for the past few weeks-“
“Johnny.” Simon’s voice echoed from the stairs as he suddenly made his presence known, quickly shucking on an old black t-shirt.
Soap, the ever present beacon of excitement, chirped, “Hi, LT, I’m makin’ dinner-“
But you didn’t even look at Johnny when he spoke, your eyes bored holes into Simon’s wet hair. “I didn’t know you were throwing parties for that.”
Simon’s glare was harsh before it moved to you, softening immediately. “I was going to tell you when you were feelin’ better.”
Feeling better. Feeling better? For fuck’s sake. You’ve been ushered around this house like a 98-year-old grandma with a fall risk, you just minorly damaged your hands and one of your legs, you were fine. Why couldn’t they see you were fine? Price could. Price was your friend, he could see you were fine. Why couldn’t the rest of them? Why doesn’t Simon know? Why does it seem like he doesn’t know anything?
Your voice instantly rose, anger fire balled at him. “You know I don’t like surprises, Simon!” Does he? Does he know? What does he know?
He winced a little, his hand outstretched as he slowly walked towards you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be upset since you were-“
Think. Know. Understand. Notice. Does he do those things?
“That’s the problem.”
No.
“Come again?”
If he did, he’d have noticed the way you leaned back a little, half a step away as he grew closer. He would have noticed the way you held Mellie tighter, the way she squawked in annoyance as you did. He should have noticed the rage in you.
“I said, that is the problem.”
“What is?”
“You don’t think. You never think! Of course I’m not gonna get better with the lot of you hovering over me! I can do things on my own, I’m strong enough! I’ve been fine for weeks!”
Simon was a strong man, he didn't back down. That you knew, you expected his quick quip, “Your doctor said you should be takin’ it easy, love, that’s why-“
“I’m not weak, Simon! I’m passing all the tests with flying colors!” Spit flew from your mouth, your fingers gripped Mellie’s onesie like it was a lifeline.
You stared at Simon with wide eyes, ones that threatened tears. You could see the exhaustion in his face, the bruises you accidentally left him look so much worse in the light of the window. At any other moment, the sight of what you did to him would’ve made you look away. Now, you stared at him, made him look at you and what his broken promises have done to you.
“I’m just trying to help!”
“I don’t need your fucking help! I didn’t before and I don’t now!”
“What the Hell do you mean by that?”
“You know what?” You looked towards Soap in the kitchen, who seemed to look frozen by your gaze, his eyes wide and shocked. “Thanks, Johnny, but I’m not hungry anymore. I’m going upstairs.”
“Sweetheart-“ His hand grabbed your wrist without warning, the one that held Mellie’s back. You almost instantly screeched as your brain went into shutdown - protect Mellie, protect her, protect her-
“Don’t touch me!” Simon ripped it from your wrist so quickly that it almost took you with him, but you kept your balance and held your squirming toddler closer to your chest. The air in your throat constricted, you struggled to breathe as you whimpered, “Don’t… Don’t touch me. Stop.”
Simon shrunk to a size that was too much like a man you didn’t know, a shadow of something inside his brain that made him seem like a frightened child. “I’m sorry.”
You didn’t care at that moment. That little itch in the back of your mind became a gaping gash, and you could only see him as the man who let you get hurt. Who chose his work over your child’s life. Over yours. By God, you were allowed to be angry now. Your jaw clicked with how hard you pressed it together.
“Don’t.”
#lethalchiralium#happiness series#lethal chiralium#simon ghost riley#simon riley#call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x wife!reader#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon ghost riley x wife!reader#simon riley x f!reader#simon riley call of duty#simon riley x female reader#simon ghost riley x female reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x you
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Could you write a fic with an allergic Ja/yce having an itchy, desperate sneezing fit and has no idea what he’s allergic to and Vi/ktor is confused since Ja/yce never has fits
anon, i love the way your mind works, thank you so much for this prompt !!
i made v/iktor have the kink (as more of a self indulgence than anything else), but i’d be more than happy to write another version if this isn’t what you had in mind! there are a few mentions of mess/spray, but no graphic descriptions!
without further ado, here’s 1k of allergic, desperate j/ayce (no spoilers for s2)
The lab is usually filled with the melodious sounds of mechanical tinkering or pencil against paper, save for the days when power tools and accidental explosions are involved. Except today, Viktor’s focus is broken by something entirely different.
Jayce has been sniffling persistently for almost an hour, not frequently enough to warrant using his handkerchief apparently, but enough as to where Viktor finds himself thoroughly distracted. Of course, his attraction to sneezing doesn’t help in the matter, but he’s certain anyone would be distracted by Jayce’s constant sniffles.
Viktor has been keeping a close eye on him, initially hypothesizing that Jayce is sick. After all, he has no allergies— that he knows of— and he doesn’t generally have an irritable or sensitive nose, not unless he’s ill.
Before long, Viktor finds himself spending more time watching Jayce than he is observing the hex core in front of him. His eyes flicker to Jayce as he hears an especially wet sniffle, his chest fluttering as Jayce takes a finger to his nose, rubbing it harshly.
Jayce continues berating the appendage as his nostrils flare, pressing two fingers to the base of his nose and rubbing them side to side. Apparently, the movement only encourages the itch, resulting in a sudden, spraying “hhHDTSHCHh!”
“Bless you,” Viktor hums, walking over to sit beside Jayce’s desk. He’s had enough of just watching his partner; he craves more.
He props his crutch against the table, placing a hand on Jayce’s knee, “Something bothering you?”
“I might need- hh- to step- heh… hh- eh’hhH- step out forhhh- for a- hhHRSHCHhew- a se-hh-second” Jayce stutters through hitching breaths, the tickle evidently getting much worse.
“And why is that, love?” Viktor purrs, knowing he’ll elicit another desperately hitchy response from his partner.
“I d-hh- don’t- hhHNDSXHCHh! know what’s- hh- what- hhhH- nghh… what’s- hh- hhHNGSXHCHh! makihhHng me itch-“ Jayce tries to speak through his hitching breaths and sneezes, sounding arousingly pathetic. His nose is twitching, his nostrils glistening with a sheen of mess.
Viktor continues to listen to Jayce, trying to hold back a smirk. He finds it almost irresistible how pitiful Jayce sounds, his stomach swirling with hot affection.
"Is that so...?" He prompts, trying to get Jayce to finish his sentence as he slowly runs his hand from Jayce’s knee to his inner thigh, clearly enjoying the sudden allergic onslaught.
“It’s- hh- it’s r-hh-really-hheh’HNGSXCHh’uh- hhhih’ih’GKSZCHHhh!”
Viktor’s smirk grows, "I can't understand you like that, love. Try again.”
Jayce practically whines in response. Despite the whine, he leans closer to Viktor, always craving his physical affection.
“hhHHRSDHCHh!” Jayce’s shoulders shudder with the force of the sneeze, barely managing a ragged gasp before a second, “hhHNGSZXHCHh!”
Viktor swallows, his hand tightening its hold on Jayce’s thigh. He’s never seen Jayce react like this, nor did he expect Jayce to have any allergies.
“What’s gotten into you, Милая,” he hums, using his other hand to tilt Jayce’s chin up. He tuts quietly, brushing his thumb over Jayce’s upper lip, “you’re making a mess.”
Jayce blushes crimson, sniffling against the moisture clinging to his nostrils. His eyes are dewy and irritated, clearly in the throws of an allergic reaction.
“I’ve- hh- I’ve never… snf- God- snf- never reacted like- hh… heh- thhhis before,” Jayce says sheepishly, “I don’t even know what- hh- what’s- hhH- fuck- hhHH-.”
Viktor watches with rapt attention as Jayce’s chest swells with each hitching breath. He keeps a firm hold on Jayce’s chin, not allowing him to pull away even as his hitches.
“hhHNGSXHCHh! hhHRHSCHhhew- hhhH- hhhughh- hhHKTSHXHh’uh!”
Viktor swallows as Jayce sprays the triple against his hand, once again wiping the mess from his upper lip, “Bless you,” he purrs, replaying the sounds of Jayce’s sneezes in his mind.
Jayce is rarely one to have fits, save for when he’s especially sick or indulges in Viktor’s kink and induces. Even then, fits like this are hard to come by, let alone naturally.
Jayce sniffles wetly against his streaming nose, letting out a small, itchy cough, “why- hhH- hh… heh- snNFF- hhhhHGDXHCHhhew!”
Viktor’s eyes flick from Jayce’s pink, flaring nostrils to his teary red-rimmed eyes, “you’re definitely having an allergic reaction.”
“But I don’t h-hh-have allerghh-hhH’RRSZXChh! snf- allergies,” Jayce practically whines, his shoulders slumped in defeat as his nose continues twitching.
“Evidently, you do,” Viktor states, letting his hand shift up to cup Jayce’s forehead, just as a precaution, “No fever.”
Jayce fumbles to grab his handkerchief again, his breath hitching into a quick, desperate series of gasps. Viktor’s grip tightens on Jayce’s thigh again, practically purring at the sight of his partner’s desperation.
“Don’t hold back,” he prompts as the hitching continues, watching as Jayce’s reddened nostrils flare desperately. His hitches are intermixed with whines as he builds up to another spraying, “hhH’ESXCHhhh’ugh!”
“Bless y-,” Viktor starts, only to be interrupted with an urgent double, the second sneeze practically tumbling out on top of the first, “hhHGSZHCHh-hHHDSXHHhew!”
Viktor lets his hand travel further up Jayce’s thigh, palming the bulge in his pants as he murmurs, “Bless you.”
Jayce moans at the touch, his hips bucking against Viktor’s hand without second thought. Viktor tuts quietly, “So needy,” as his other hand moves to hold Jayce’s chin again, “what do you say we call it a night?”
Jayce nods, eager to go home and receive Viktor’s attention, “Y-hh-Yeah. I won’t be- hhH- heh- product-hhHNGXCHhh! snf- productive- hhHDSXHCHh’uh! snf- here anywhhhH- hhHh- anyways.”
And with that, the couple takes their leave, Viktor leading Jayce back to his room in the academy. He murmurs quiet blessings the entire way, feeling his stomach churn with hot arousal as Jayce desperately tries to stifle in the halls; pathetic, wet “hhHGGSZXt’SHCHhuh!”s slipping through the fingers failing to pinchhis nose shut.
The End (for now, though I’m tempted to continue this…)
sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors, i wanted to get this posted so i didn’t do a thorough read through
as always, any comments or tags left are very much appreciated !! they inspire me to keep writing
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Timebomb and the Z-Drive
A short Arcane fic-scene. Two days after the Boy Savior stops Jinx from jumping, they walk through the undercity together. Ekko uses the Z-Drive, much to Jinx's dismay.
Ekko walked in parallel to her right, about 10 feet away. The distance felt right. After all, for years they'd been enemies. They had hated each other. Could things even change? Despite his efforts, altering time itself, it still felt doomed. Like everything else. She stopped and looked over the edge to the street far below. She turned around and hoisted herself up to sit on the railing. It creaked and swayed under her, but she didn't notice. Or care.
“Please don't--Jinx.” Ekko's tone shifted dramatically mid sentence. From annoying, worry-filled scolding to something more raw and desperate.
She looked up, puzzled. There was a kind of anxiety on his face as he looked at her, but more noticeable was the fact that he was a foot or two closer. Impossibly so, as she had only glanced away for a split second and she didn't even hear him step. The Z-Drive… His hand gripped the handle of the rip-cord.
“Did you just…?” Disgust filled her. What did he say? What mess is he trying to hide?
“Jinx, listen…” He said, cautiously, arm outstretched toward her.
“No!” She exploded. Why listen to someone so blatantly trying to manipulate her? He jumped forward a few feet right before her eyes. Anger consumed her in an instant. “Stop it!” She spat.
"Jinx!"
She slid off the railing to her feet, intending to close the distance between them. “You don't get to rewrite our conversations!”
“The railing!” He shouted over her, but she didn't hear his words.
He blinked forward again, right in front of her, startling her. She recoiled backwards. The railing groaned under her weight, then something snapped and it gave way. Her eyes went wide as she felt herself falling backward. Suddenly his hand grabbed her forearm and yanked her away from the edge. Her body slammed into his and they fell backwards to the ground, his arms wrapped around her. She heard the horrid sound of metal crashing in the pit below, the railing's screams of agony echoing upward.
At that moment she realized what really happened. It fell. *I* fell. He watched me fall… How many times…? She tried to recount the skips.
His arms were squeezing her tight like a vice. With her body atop his and her head against his chest, she could feel his lungs heave heavy breaths and hear his heart race. She could sense the fear still in him. He… *really* cares. Far more than she had thought he did.
His breathing slowed and his grip loosened, but he still held onto her. “Don't… scare me like that. Please.”
He didn't even seem this shaken when he stopped her from offing herself just a day or two ago. She squeezed her arms to his sides, hugging him back. Being in his arms was comforting. She hadn't felt this feeling since… since Silco.
She felt really bad for a moment, she wanted to apologize for misunderstanding, but… the other feeling she had still loomed. The thought of him rewinding, changing the words spoken between them. It felt like a cheat. Like betrayal. She lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him. His head was back against the ground, his eyes closed as he tried to moderate his breath.
“Don't use the Z-Drive with me.” She said firmly.
He lifted his head and looked down at her with an angry, bewildered look. “I won't stand by and watch you get hurt.” He growled.
She shook her head. “I mean, don't use it against me.” Her tone was serious, demanding.
Ekko's face softened as he came to understand.
“Don't use it to change things. Between us.” She stared him directly in the eyes.
He nodded gently.
But didn't she want things to change? She didn't want to be his enemy anymore. But that only worked if she could trust him. She needed to know that she could trust him. That whatever this was, was real. Unedited. Truth. She'd already suffered through one man's lies…
“Promise me.”
“I promise.” He whispered.
Good. She thought as they lingered in each other's eyes for a moment. Then she blinked, turned, and laid her head back on his chest. She felt him lay his head back against the ground once again. They just sat there for a minute in each other's arms. His hand gently rubbed her back. She closed her eyes and basked in his embrace. Taking in his smell, his warmth, his touch. A tear welled in her eye and leaked onto his jacket.
The thought of holding the Boy Savior was laughable just a year ago.
Maybe things can change, for the better. Jinx thought. Maybe they already have.
#lynx posts#arcane#lynx writes#timebomb#jinx x ekko#arcane s2 spoilers#arcane s2#fanfic#short reads#arcane fanfic
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Trust and Believe IV
summary: Keyshia and Joe had a seemingly perfect life together after marrying in 2010. However, as their careers grew, so did the strain on their relationship. When Joe cheats on Keyshia. The emotional fallout from the incident leaves their relationship hanging in the balance, with Keyshia questioning if they could ever recover from the betrayal.
Joe had just returned home from Los Angeles, his mind still buzzing from the whirlwind events surrounding WWE’s Raw on Netflix premiere. He had spent most of the weekend on the road, surrounded by bright lights, cameras, and the familiar faces of the wrestling world. But now, back in his own home, everything felt off. It was too quiet. The kind of silence that felt unnatural. As if something was missing. Something… or someone.
The house was cold—an icy chill in the air that made Joe shiver as he stepped over the threshold. He dropped his bag by the door and looked around, squinting in the dim light. The place felt empty. He should have been used to this by now. Keyshia and the kids often did their own thing when he was away. But tonight, it felt different. Too empty. Too still.
"Kids? Keyshia?" he called out, his voice echoing down the hallway.
Nothing. No footsteps. No distant sound of laughter or TV noise. It was like the house had been abandoned. He tried again, a little louder this time. "Keyshia?"
His pulse quickened, the first flicker of panic creeping in. He walked deeper into the house, his shoes clicking against the hardwood floors. The living room was quiet, the kitchen untouched. The refrigerator door was ajar, but nothing else seemed to have moved. He knew from experience that Keyshia liked to keep everything in its place, and this absence—this unnerving silence—felt like a sharp contrast to the usual chaos of their home.
He stood in the middle of the room, his chest tight. Where were they? He glanced at the clock. It was almost 10 p.m. The kids should have been home, settling into their routines for the night. He should’ve at least heard something. Maybe they went out for a while? But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew something was off. He had just left for the weekend, and everything had been fine. So why the sudden disappearance?
His stomach sank as a wave of worry hit him. Did she leave me? The thought flashed through his mind like a jagged shard of glass. He shoved it away immediately, unwilling to even entertain the idea. But the more he thought about it, the more the question lingered. Had she finally had enough of his mistakes? Had she taken the kids and walked out on him? The guilt began to gnaw at him. It wasn’t hard to imagine why.
He couldn’t shake the image of the woman he’d brought back to his penthouse in Miami. It had been a mistake, a moment of weakness, but that was no excuse. Joe knew the truth—he had betrayed Keyshia’s trust. It wasn’t just about the fling, it was about the years of taking her for granted, of assuming that no matter what, she would always be there. The thought of losing her, of losing his family, twisted something deep within him.
This is my fault. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve lost her.
The panic intensified as he walked through the house. He checked every room, every closet, even the garage. Nothing. No bags packed, no signs of a departure. His mind reeled, trying to figure out what had happened. Why was she gone? Had they argued? He hadn’t even spoken to her much over the weekend, caught up in the chaos of the premiere. They had texted, but it had been brief. He thought everything was fine.
But now, standing in the empty house, he realized how wrong he had been.
Desperation surged through him, and he fumbled for his phone. His fingers were shaky as he dialed Keyshia’s sister, LaKenya. LaKenya was three years older than Keyshia, and if anyone could give him some answers, it would be her. Joe had always thought that LaKenya knew her sister better than anyone else—sometimes even better than he did.
The phone rang three times before LaKenya’s voice picked up.
"What do you want?" she asked, her tone clipped.
Joe’s heart raced as he exhaled sharply. "The house is empty. Do you know where Keyshia and the kids are?"
For a long moment, there was silence on the other end. Then, LaKenya’s voice came through, dripping with sarcasm. "I hope that slut was worth it."
Joe’s stomach dropped. What the hell?
Before he could respond, the line went dead. She had hung up on him.
Joe stared at his phone in disbelief. Anger mixed with confusion and hurt. He didn’t understand. Why was she acting like this? He felt the sting of her words deep in his chest, the guilt becoming even harder to bear. I’ve messed up... But this?
As he stood there, holding his phone, he felt his heart drop into his stomach.
Back at LaKenya’s house, the reality of the situation set in. Keyshia was sitting on the couch next to her sister, watching the drama unfold. She couldn’t help but smirk as Joe’s frantic voice filled the airwaves, his desperation practically leaping through the phone.
"That was so mean," Keyshia said, glancing sideways at her older sister.
LaKenya chuckled, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You gotta make them sweat a little. Let him feel the heat."
Keyshia rolled her eyes, but a small part of her couldn’t help but feel a bit entertained by the scene she had just orchestrated. She hadn’t exactly been communicative with Joe over the weekend, letting him stew in his own anxiety. She had planned the whole thing with LaKenya as a way of taking control, making him feel the weight of his actions. But even as she enjoyed the moment, there was a part of her that started to feel the sting of guilt.
He really is freaking out, she thought, her heart softening just a little. Maybe I should’ve told him where we were.
LaKenya, still amused, leaned back in her chair. "He deserves it. He hasn’t been paying attention to you, and now he gets a taste of what it feels like."
Keyshia sighed, folding her arms over her chest. "I don’t know. What if he reports me and the kids as missing? What if he thinks I really left him?"
LaKenya shrugged, unconcerned. "Then he’s a bigger fool than I thought. He should’ve kept his act together."
Keyshia nodded slowly, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes. She couldn’t just let Joe twist in the wind forever. As much as she wanted him to feel the consequences of his actions, she wasn’t cruel. "I’ll call him in an hour and let him know where we are," she said, finally relenting.
LaKenya raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk curling on her lips. "Yeah, let him sweat a little longer. He’s got to learn."
Meanwhile, back at Joe’s house, the sinking feeling in his chest hadn’t abated. He had tried calling Keyshia again, but this time, her phone went straight to voicemail. Frustration boiled over as he paced the living room, dialing another number. His cousins—Joshua, Jon, and Jon’s wife, Trinity—were on the other end of the line now, and he needed answers.
"LaKenya was no help," Joe muttered, rubbing his temples as he slumped into a chair. He could feel the spiral beginning, the downward pull of panic and regret. His chest was tight, his mind a mess of questions. "I don’t know where she is. It’s like they disappeared. I don’t get it."
Joshua’s voice came through, steady and calm. "Relax, Uce. Maybe she’s with one of her relatives or friends. It’s not the end of the world."
Jon, always the optimistic one, added, "Yeah, man. She’s probably just spending time with family. You know how it is. Don’t jump to conclusions."
Trinity, however, didn’t have the same reassuring tone. She could hear the desperation in Joe’s voice, and as much as she hated to admit it, she knew the truth. If Keyshia left him, then he has to face it. She sighed quietly before speaking, her voice softer. "Joe, if she left you, you have to accept it. Don’t make this harder on yourself."
Joe stood up, pacing once more, his mind racing. "I know, but still… she should have said something. She should’ve at least called me."
Joshua tried again, trying to bring some peace to the situation. "She’s probably just busy, man. You’re overthinking this."
But Joe wasn’t so sure anymore. He was spiraling, unable to stop the flood of guilt and fear that washed over him. If Keyshia had left, it was because of him. And the thought of losing her—of losing his family—was more than he could bear.
When Keyshia and the kids finally arrived back at the house later the next day, the moment they stepped through the front door, she was immediately struck by the overwhelming scent of roses.
She blinked, taking in the sight in front of her. The entire living room and dining area were transformed into a sea of deep red roses—leading her eyes to the carefully arranged vases standing on almost every available surface. There were tall glass vases on the coffee table, the dining table, and even the console table near the hallway.
Keyshia's breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t even considered that Joe might be trying to do something to win her back. She had been so wrapped up in her own frustrations, so convinced that he had given up on their relationship that the lavish gesture almost knocked the wind out of her.
"Joe?" she called out, her voice trembling slightly, unsure of what she was walking into.
No sooner had she said his name than he appeared from the hallway, his face a mixture of relief and anxiety, his eyes searching hers like a man who had been holding his breath for far too long.
Before she could react, Joe rushed toward her. Without a word, he grabbed her in a tight, desperate embrace, his arms wrapping around her like a vise. His chest pressed against hers, his breath ragged in her ear. Keyshia froze for a moment, her body stiff against his, before the weight of the situation hit her. His arms felt like a lifeline.
"I’m so sorry," Joe whispered, his voice hoarse as he buried his face in her shoulder. "I’m so sorry for everything, baby. Please... I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you."
Keyshia’s breath hitched, the overwhelming sense of emotion from the gesture, from his words, leaving her momentarily speechless. She had expected anger or perhaps more of the cold silence she’d felt over the weekend. But this—this raw, desperate apology—caught her off guard. The last few months had been filled with so much uncertainty, so much doubt. She had thought she was prepared to face whatever came next. But now, with him holding her like this, she wasn’t sure what to feel anymore.
The kids stood quietly by the door, sensing the tension in the room but unsure of how to react.
Joe didn’t let go. He held her tightly, almost as if he feared she might slip through his fingers again. His hands, shaking slightly, brushed against the back of her neck, pulling her even closer. He buried his face deeper into her hair, inhaling the scent of her, as though trying to ground himself in the reality of the moment.
Keyshia felt the warmth of his embrace, the weight of his body pressed against hers, and for a split second, she almost allowed herself to soften, to believe that he truly understood the depth of his actions. But then, the reality of everything that had happened between them—the lies, the betrayal, the hurt—came crashing back into her mind.
"Joe, what is all this?" she asked quietly, her voice soft but heavy with uncertainty.
He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his hands still resting gently on her shoulders. His eyes were wide with emotion, raw and vulnerable. "I know I’ve messed up. I know I’ve hurt you. And I know words won’t fix this. But I’m trying, Keyshia. I’m trying to show you how sorry I am. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose my family."
Keyshia swallowed, the lump in her throat growing as she took in the scene around her—the roses, the vases, the soft glow of the light from the lamps, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere. This was his apology, a lavish one at that. She could see that he had put in a lot of thought, a lot of effort. But in the back of her mind, a part of her knew that these gestures, no matter how beautiful, could never erase the hurt she had felt.
"Joe..." she began, but her words faltered as she struggled to make sense of it all. She pulled away slightly, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. "I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what you expect from me."
Joe’s face dropped slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion. "I just want you to know I’m sorry, Keyshia. I know I can’t take back what I’ve done, but I want to do better. I want to show you that I can be the man you need, the man you deserve. Please, just give me a chance to prove it."
Keyshia closed her eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath. She could feel the sincerity in his words, the genuine regret in his voice. But that didn’t change the fact that he had hurt her. That didn’t change the feeling of betrayal that had settled deep within her heart.
"I don’t know, Joe," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I want to believe you. I really do. But how can I, after everything? After what you did?"
Joe’s eyes filled with desperation. "I messed up. I know I did. But I swear, Keyshia, I will never do anything to hurt you again. Please, don’t walk away from me. Not like this."
Keyshia stood there, caught between the desire to stay and the fear of what staying might mean. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that this apology, these flowers, the empty promises of change could somehow bring them back to the way they were before everything had gone wrong. But deep down, she knew that it would take more than a grand gesture to heal the wounds he had inflicted on her heart.
She glanced over at the kids, who were quietly watching the exchange with wide eyes. They had been through enough turmoil in the past few months. She couldn’t make a decision that would only confuse them more. But at the same time, she couldn’t pretend that everything was okay just because Joe had surrounded her with roses.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Joe stood there, his eyes searching hers, hoping for some sign that she would forgive him, that she would stay. But Keyshia wasn’t ready to make that decision yet. Not now, not like this.
"I need time, Joe," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "I can’t just forget everything and pretend like it’s all okay. You hurt me. And you hurt the kids. It’s going to take more than roses to fix that."
Joe’s face softened with understanding, though the disappointment was clear. "I get it. I just... I’m so sorry. Please know that I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. Just… don’t give up on me. Don’t give up on us."
Keyshia nodded slowly, her heart torn between what was and what could be. "I’m not giving up on you, Joe. But I need you to show me, not just tell me. I need to see the change. I need to feel like I can trust you again."
Joe’s face lit up with hope, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. He stepped forward, pulling her into another embrace, this time gentler than before, but still full of the same desperate need. "I’ll prove it to you. I swear I will. I’ll do whatever it takes."
Keyshia hesitated for a moment, then returned his embrace, her arms wrapping around him, though with a certain reserve. She didn’t know what the future held for them. But for the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of hope. Maybe they could find their way back. But it wouldn’t be easy. It couldn’t be.
For now, they would take it one step at a time.
#wwe#wwe fanfiction#wwe roman reigns#roman empire#roman reigns#roman reigns fanfiction#roman reigns angst#angst#fanfiction#fanfic#wwe fic#wwe fanfic#wwe fandom#joe anoa'i#otc#oc#black oc#woc#black girl tumblr#roman reigns x oc#roman reigns x black oc#pro wrestling#wrestler#wrestling#the bloodline#the samoan dynasty#head of the table#the tribal chief#tribal chief#trust and believe
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Jinx x f!reader special new year 3
✨ Ok, first of all I wanted to apologize for the delay, but something unexpected happened and I've been really busy. I know I said this would be the last part, but I got a little carried away - a lot actually - and when I realized it, it was too long. So there will be one more chapter after this one and I swear it will be the end, sorry guys. Anyway, I hope you like it!
🌟 English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any mistakes.
🥂 Part 1 🥂 Part 2
“Close your eyes, princess,” she whispered and you obeyed. Jinx led you out of Caitlyn’s house and took you somewhere high and far away from Piltover. “Careful, baby, go up slowly and don’t open your eyes until I tell you to,” she said, holding your hand tightly and helping you up a few steps. She walked with you and stopped, pinning you against a… railing? She pressed her body against your back and with her hands on your hips, she kissed your neck softly. “Eyes closed, ok?,” she whispered and you nodded.
You felt your girlfriend's hands leave you and you got goosebumps as the wind hit your skin. "Jinx?!", you called out to her. "I'm here, light of my life", she replied and you heard her unzipping her backpack. You smiled, you loved it when she called you that affectionately.
You heard the heavy footsteps of her boots walking towards you and her thin hands gripped your waist and she pressed her body against your back again. Jinx kissed your bare shoulders and moved up to your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses on your soft, warm skin, she purred behind you between the kisses that burned into your skin. “You can open your beautiful eyes now, my life,” she whispered in your ear, biting your lobe.
You opened your eyes and at the same moment the clocks in the city of progress began to chime midnight. You looked around and realized that you were outside a blimp. You heard Jinx pull a trigger behind you and at that moment, a fireworks display began in the sky. “Happy New Year my love,” she said behind you and before you turned to face her to kiss her, a bomb exploded in the sky that soon turned into colorful fireworks that said, “marry me, toots?”
Tears streamed down your face quickly and you felt her take her hands off of you and kneel in front of you. She was holding a blue velvet ring box in her hands, one she had made and painted for you. She opened the box and there was a silver engagement ring with a blue sparkle on the tip.
“I will never be lost in the darkness again with you by my side, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, y/n. You brought back everything I lost, I have everything just by having you, I love you. Please be my wife, baby?”, she said with her eyes shining and you could swear that for a second, they were blue again.
You smiled through your tears, “Jinx I love you, of course I want to marry you, I will always say yes to you, I want to be with you for the rest of my life, my sunshine”. She stretched her lips into a smile and laughed a little, then she put the ring on your finger and you didn't have the chance to admire it, the next second she grabbed you and crashed her lips on yours, kissing you intensely and passionately.
She licked, kissed and sucked your lips on hers desperately, she pressed you against the railing of the airship and pressed her body against yours. You placed your right hand on the back of her neck while you brushed your nails on her left arm with your other hand. Jinx placed her hands on your waist and leaned over you a little. She lifted your left leg to her hips and held it tightly.
You were both breathless from the heated kiss and you were panting when Jinx - now your fiancée - left your lips and kissed your chin and down to your neck. You threw your head back and she took advantage of that, biting your skin and sucking hard. The sounds of her mouth on your skin, the noises she made and your soft moans and panting breaths were a true symphony.
She made a trail of kisses and bites up to the top of your breasts and stuck her tongue inside your cleavage licking between your breasts, “mhmm so hot, fuck”, she whispered and then went back to kissing and sucking the top of your tits leaving them marked and slightly sore. She kissed your lips again and let go of your leg. She placed her hands on your hips under your dress and pulled you tightly against her. You placed your hands one on each of her boobs and squeezed lightly, contrasting with her grip on your hips and ass, where she squeezed very hard, marking the skin with her fingers.
She squeezed your ass so hard that your lips faltered against hers making you gasp and your feet lift slightly off the ground. She captured your lips again and swirled her tongue with yours, biting your bottom lip and letting out a noise from her throat in the process. She was getting desperate and needed to fuck you and she needed to punish you for your behavior earlier, she hadn't forgotten that.
You didn't have the breath and stamina of your fiancée, you were in need of air, and tried to pull away from her for just a second, but she wasn't willing to let you. When you broke the kiss breathlessly, she captured your lips again and again. You tried to stop the kiss for the fourth time and this time she gave in and rested her forehead against yours. You both panted with your mouths half open on each other. “Just… just one more thing toots…”, Jinx said after placing a quick kiss on your half-open lips. “I want… to make a child in you,” she said, her voice hoarser than usual. You frowned, how was that possible? “After Isha…”, she said, her voice breaking, but before she could finish, you interrupted her, “Jinx, we swore to never speak about h…”, your eyes were filling with tears again.
“I know... I just want a kid, our kid, baby”, it was her turn to interrupt you and then she went back to planting kisses on your neck. “And how are we… a-ah… how are we going to… do this?… mhmm”, it was difficult to concentrate and form the right words with Jinx abusing the skin on your neck. “There are many ways,” she said, pulling the skin on your neck between her teeth, you rolled your eyes and gasped at the sensation.
She was spreading kisses and bites all over your neck, you were loving it, but she had gotten into a delicate subject and you had to focus on that. So you pushed her away, “Baby, calm down…”, she frowned and pulled you against her again, going back to abusing your skin. “You made me wait all day, toots, don’t ask me to calm down now.” She pushed you against the airship's railing again and placed a hand on each of the railings, holding you there, and then pulled the part of your dress that held your right breast down and it jumped out of the fabric, and she buried her lips in your bare chest, teasing your nipple with her tongue and teeth.
You closed your eyes and threw your head back, moaning softly at the feeling of her tongue. Jinx stuck her tongue out and licked your boob from bottom to top several times, then swirled her tongue around your nipple and sucked on it. You gasped and bit your lower lip, you put your right hand in her hair and pulled it gently, making her moan into your boob. You were already soaking wet down there, you pressed your legs together you needed her, but before that you both needed to finish the conversation that Jinx started in the first place.
Jinx was just kissing your breast softly when you lifted her face to look at you. “Baby…”, you said, still a little breathless. “Yes?!”, she asked and planted a peck on your lips. “How are we going to be able to have a child?”. She rolled her eyes, “Sugar, what do you mean ‘how’? We’re amazing, you’re going to be a wonderful mother”, she said, kissing your chin and going up to leave kisses on the corner of your lips and giving you another peck. “I don’t know… it’s not that… you know what life is like in Zaun”, you said, caressing her thin and defined abdomen.
“And who said we’re having a baby in Zaun? my silly girl,” she scoffed. You gave her a confused look. “Look around you toots, let’s get out of here, start over somewhere else, where no one knows us, where we can be a family.” So that was why she had taken you to an airship, she intended to run away with you. Jinx caressed your face with her hand, “we can rebuild the family we lost, baby… me and you and…”, she placed her hand on your womb and smiled, “…you know… we can do that… but we could never do it here… It’s a real new year, don’t you think?”. You smiled and hugged her, “I love you so much babe.” She squeezed your sides, “I love you too toots.”
“But now,” she said, picking you up suddenly, bridal style, “now I want to do adult things with you, toots.” She took you inside the airship and you laughed at the feeling of being carried like that, your fiancée was really crazy and you always loved that about her. She threw you on a sofa bed full of very soft and comfortable pillows and climbed on top of you. “Now I’m going to fuck my beautiful and hot fiancée, until she loses consciousness inside that beautiful head of hers,” she said with her voice getting hoarse and making your body shiver and your pussy ache for her.
She took off her top and threw it away, exposing her small breasts. You raised your hands to feel them, but Jinx held your wrists above your head with her hands. She lowered her head and stuck her tongue in your lips without warning. You kissed her back, your lips were already sore from the kisses from before and from how she was kissing you hard like a starving animal that hadn't eaten in days.
Jinx released one of your wrists and held it close to the other only to take a hot pink satin scarf from her pants pocket and tie it tightly around your wrists and it was then that you realized that you were fucked, very fucked and that only excited you even more. “Did you think I had forgotten about your previous behavior? Nah, nothing like that, princess,” she snapped and slapped your face, not hard enough to hurt you too much, but enough to make you close your eyes tightly from the burning sensation that remained there.
Your blue-haired bride held your face in her hands and came very close to look at you. She smiled wickedly and ran her eyes all over your beautiful face and turned it to the side leaving the skin of your neck - already with some marks - exposed to her. She began to gently kiss the skin alternating between kisses and bites. She ran her tongue over the pulse point on your neck and then trapped the skin between her lips and teeth, sucking your skin hard to leave a very obvious bruise there. “Oh god,” you moaned.
Jinx trailed kisses down to the top of your tits and then she sat on your pelvis and without warning she placed her hands on the top of your dress and ripped it completely, your bare breasts jumping out of the torn fabric. Jinx immediately grabbed your boobs with both hands, massaging them, squeezing them and pulling them. She sucked on your left breast while she continued to tease the other one with her hand. “Fuck they are such perfect toots… hmm”. You were just a mess of moans and whimpers. She moved to your other breast and caught your nipple between her teeth, pulling it hard, your eyes watered and you moaned in pain and pleasure at the same time. She released your injured nipple and drops of blood ran down your breast and Jinx licked them off, licking your nipple too and swirling her tongue around it and then she sucked it into her mouth. Her saliva on your cut nipple stung and you choked trying not to cry.
“Sorry baby, I can’t control myself,” she said, running her thumb over your nipple, you squirmed at the stinging sensation. “Stop, please,” you said, tears streaming down your eyes. Jinx crashed her lips onto yours and you tasted the iron of your blood on her lips. She broke the kiss only to lick your tears away and said, brushing her lips against your ear, “Oh my sweet girl, I warned you that you would be screwed when I got you, you will take what I give you until the time I decide to stop, understand?” You nodded, she grabbed your face tightly, “Use the words toots.” She ran her thumb over your lips, waiting. “I got it babe.” She smiled mischievously, “Fucking good girl.”
Jinx made a trail of hickeys from your neck to the top of your left breast - the one that wasn't bleeding - then she filled her mouth with the soft flesh of your breast and bit and sucked on it while her hands gripped your hips so tightly that there would be marks from her fingers for days. She sucked on the skin at the edge of your breast, leaving a bruise there.
Your fiancée moved her kisses and bites down from your breast to your abdomen and got rid of the rest of the dress that was still on your body, ripping it completely and throwing the rags somewhere, leaving you with only your ruined and soaked panties. Jinx ran her nose over the wet spot on your panties and bit her lips, getting hornier. “Hmm, that’s delicious, baby, fuck,” she mumbled, planting a kiss on your swollen clitoris through the thin fabric of your panties. You moaned and writhed beneath her and she smiled wickedly.
Jinx pulled your panties to the side just to show your crotch, where she licked you teasingly. Then she went down to the inside of your left thigh and sucked on your skin, marking you there too. She went down to your ankle and knelt on the floor at the edge of the sofa bed just to unbutton your sandals and take them off your feet. She grabbed your left foot and kissed it, but your body's reflexes pulled it out of her hand because of the sensitivity that made you feel ticklish. She got up from the floor, standing up and took off her boots, then got rid of her pants and boxers, throwing them on the floor with the rest of her clothes.
She climbed on top of you again and placed her hands on each of your arms - which were raised above your head, with your wrists tied together. Jinx captured your lips with hers again and took her time with you. She placed her right hand on your throat, but didn't squeeze, just held you firmly as her tongue danced with yours. You both let out soft moans between the kiss, Jinx pulled your lower lip so hard that it bled a little, you gasped and she moaned at the taste of your blood. She licked your chin and ran her tongue over your lips before capturing them with hers again. “Open your mouth, love”, she whispered with her lips brushing yours and you obeyed, she spat inside your mouth and you swallowed her saliva. “Oh fuck, like this you're going to kill me toots or I'm going to kill you, I don't know anymore”, she said whispering and kissed you again.
She swirled her tongue around yours and then sucked your tongue and you moaned into her mouth, she devoured your lips for a few more seconds while squeezing your tits in her hand. Jinx moved her kisses from your lips to your chin, passing through your neck, the top of your breasts, your nipples, all over your abdomen until she reached your clothed pussy. She took off your panties and kissed your pelvis, biting and sucking afterwards and you moaned at the sensation. She brought your panties to her nose and melted feeling the sweet smell of your arousal, "fuck", she whispered and then threw your panties with the rest of your clothes on the floor.
Jinx bit her lower lip hard as she stared at your bare, dripping pussy. Yes, she intended to tear you apart, but before that, she laid on top of you again and shoved her knee into your needy cunt and you moaned a little loudly. She stuck her index and middle finger inside your mouth and you understood what she wanted and started sucking on them. She bit her lower lip as she watched you suck on her slender fingers and she shoved them deeper into your throat making you gag. Your saliva started to run down the corner of your mouth and onto the knuckles of her fingers.
She got off of you and got on her knees on the bed, and then she stuck the fingers that were in your mouth inside herself and started masturbating herself while shamelessly staring at your pink, swollen pussy. You felt a little embarrassed by this, but then you enjoyed the sight and it was only making you hornier. “Fuck baby, fuck...,” she moaned as she touched herself, the rhythm of her fingers increasing more and more. You could do it for her, you wanted to be able to touch her, but you knew she wouldn't allow it, she rarely did.
You could go crazy at any minute, you needed her, you needed to be touched, you needed to be fucked. You squeezed your legs together to feel something and that irritated Jinx, she didn't say anything but with her free hand, she parted your legs opening them so hard that your groin burned and you let out a tearful moan.
“Look at this… a-ah hmm… fuck… look at this delicious pussy”, she said between moans, the wet sounds coming from her fingers in your pussy were getting straight to you and you could only feel the ache in your core and your pussy getting wetter and wetter. “You’re so hot baby, I’m going to fuck you like hell, you’ll see”, she said in a hoarse voice and moaned loudly, cumming all over your belly and pelvis.
Without wasting any more time, she stuck her fingers covered in her cum into your vagina and mixed her cum with the cream of your arousal, lubricating your pussy with her cum, making you moan as you felt her fingers in your needy pussy and arch your hips slightly. She ran her fingers up and down your slippery pussy and you bit your bottom lip.
Without warning, Jinx opened your lips with her fingers and stuck her tongue in your pussy, eating you with desire, like a hungry wild animal. She licked from your clitoris to your hole, teasing it. She was savoring your taste that she was crazy about and the sounds she made while eating you were infamous and made you moan like a bitch in heat. “Mhmm, that feels so fucking good,” she said, and then she finally swirled her tongue around your clit and sucked on it. You lifted your head and looked down, and when she began licking your clit in a fast, steady rhythm you slammed your head back into the pillows, “Ooh fuck,” you moaned.
You were a panting, whimpering mess, your wrists pinned numb above your head as your bride devoured your pussy. Jinx's tongue expertly explored every side of your poor cunt. She licked you with her mouth wide open, alternating between sucking and licking your swollen clit. She held your legs wide open for her by gripping your hips tightly. Jinx closed her lips around each of your fucked pussy lips in her mouth and sucked on them, making you gasp above her. Then she stuck her tongue in your hole and fucked you like that. Your walls swallowed her tongue inside you and you both moaned in unison.
Jinx fucked you with her tongue for a long time, alternating between pumping her tongue inside you frantically or thrusting your hips against her tongue and then you were close, very close to cumming in her mouth and she noticed it when your walls tightened around her tongue. Of course this only encouraged her to go even deeper and she brought her fingers up to brush against your clit alternating between giving light flicks that made your eyes roll back in your head. Just a few more strokes of her tongue into your hole and the rhythm of her fingers on your clitoris made you come hard into her mouth and she drank your cum as if she had been dying of thirst for days.
“Atta girl,” she said breathlessly, her jaw was sore after her intense work on you and she was proud of it, but not satisfied. She wanted more, she needed more, she simply couldn’t contain herself when she had her bride tied up, naked and cumming in front of her. So she went back to eat you, licking and sucking your pussy without mercy. “Jinx I… I… aaah-ah… I can’t anymore baby… oh my god,” you said shaking frantically.
“Shut up and take it,” she said, slapping your pussy and then going back to sucking it. She didn’t stop, she just wouldn’t stop, you moaned frantically and your body began to twitch involuntarily. Your hips were moving away from her in a reflex of your body, but she pulled you back close to her, continuing to eat your pussy. “Oh…oh Jinx,” you moaned her name and that only made her even wilder. She sucked your clit and licked it frantically without stopping and fuck you were going to cum again.
You needed to grab something, anything, but your wrists were tied tightly by the tight knot she had made in the scarf and all you could do was moan, moan, moan and you practically screamed as you came for the second time in her mouth. After she cleaned up all your juices with her tongue, she slowed down and was giving kitten licks and leaving kisses on your aching pussy. You were crying from the overstimulation and your legs were shaking with each contact of her tongue on your pussy.
Jinx bit and sucked on the inner skin of your thigh, leaving red marks that would soon turn purple, and finally lifted her head from between your legs and massaged your sore jaw and neck. She was drunk on your cum and she loved it. She planted a kiss on your pelvis and made her way up to your lips and kissed you, pushing her tongue into yours and making you taste yourself in her mouth. She squeezed your right breast - the one with the bruised nipple - and you whimpered into her mouth. She released your lips and buried her head in your neck, sucking and marking the skin over the marks she had left earlier. Jinx thrust her right hand into your pussy while the other held your bound wrists. “Spread those legs for me now, toots,” she ordered in a dangerous voice and you obeyed.
Once she had easy access to your already abused pussy, she wasn't gentle and slipped her middle and ring fingers into your slippery hole with ease, finger fucking you. She had a relentless rhythm, using the shimmer in her veins to thrust hard and impossibly - for people who didn't have shimmer running through their veins - fast. She let go of your neck and knelt beside you on the bed, speeding up her slender fingers inside you more and more. The wet sounds coming from your pussy, your pornographic moans, the fucked-up sight of you and your tits bouncing with each deep thrust of her fingers into your pussy made her cum on her own and she threw her head back, "ounch that's so fucking good, fuck... shit", she moaned.
It didn't take long for you to come on her fingers, but she didn't stop fucking you. She continued fingering you through your orgasm, the rhythm never faltering, she lowered her head to bite and suck on your left breast. You let out tearful moans from your throat, your juices running from your hole onto her fingers and wrist and dripping onto the sheets. She pulled her fingers out of you and started rubbing your clit, and you rolled your eyes. “Hmmm baby, oh my god I can’t… aah… I can’t take it anymore baby,” you cried. She laughed and bit your earlobe, “pay the price for being a fucking hottie who likes to tease me.” Then, as she said that, Jinx sped up her fingers on your clit and then stuck them back in your hole, curving them and hitting that spongy spot inside you. She alternated several times between rubbing your clit and burying her fingers inside you, making you see stars and moan her name nonstop.
You were squirming and shaking as your fiancée lowered her head between your legs and began teasing your clit with her tongue while she fucked her fingers frantically into you. Jinx released your clit and licked it every now and then teasing you. “So beautiful baby, my fingers feel so good inside you, just like you… fuck, your pussy is the tastiest thing I’ve ever eaten in my life.” Her words reached straight to your fucked pussy and you got closer and closer to your limit.
Jinx curled her fingers inside you and hit that spongy spot several times and as if that wasn't enough, she pressed your belly a little with her hand while still pounding her fingers into you. Your hips lifted off the bed, your legs trembled and you rolled your eyes back in your head. Your blue-haired bride pulled your hips back and continued pumping her fingers into your hole, curling them inside you while putting just the right amount of pressure on your belly. She licked and sucked your clit a few more times and then you closed your eyes tightly, moaning loudly and uncontrollably. With your wrists tied, you couldn't hold on to anything, so you dug your nails into your palm hard and squeezed, leaving moon marks on it.
It was too much, her tongue on your clit, her fingers fucking you wildly and the pressure of her hand on your belly was too much and you screamed her name as you finally squirted, soaking her fingers and the sheet. “Fuck baby!” Jinx said satisfied and laughed a little. “Fuck toots, I knew you were capable of this, but this time… wow I’m so fucking good”, she said bragging. “You’re so fucking good my baby girl, fuck I want more of this”. She said lightly caressing your red pussy and you whimpered.
She looked at you and you were panting, your boobs rising and falling with your errant breath. You were out of your mind and Jinx smiled wickedly when she noticed it. She went straight up to your face and kissed your cheek, the tip of your nose, your chin and finally planted a peck on your lips. She kissed the entire length of your neck as you recovered from the intense orgasm and came to your senses.
“You were so good to me Toots,” she said when you calmed down, kissing your jaw and finally untying the knot of the pink scarf that kept your wrists tied together. You lowered your arms in relief, they were numb and sore, there were purple marks from her fingers and the tight knot of the scarf that had previously been tied tightly around them.
Jinx didn't wait long and crashed her lips against yours again, she had an unusual resistance and still wanted to fuck you. You were finally able to touch her and brought your right hand to the back of her neck, pulling the strands of her short blue hair while you rested the other on her face, your soft touches didn't even compare to her aggressive ones squeezing your sides during the kiss. But for her, any slightest touch of yours on her skin was enough to make her catch fire and lose control.
She moved her kisses to your neck and went back to sucking on your skin, now sensitive from the bruises. You tried to reverse positions and stay on top of her, but when you dared to move, she held you tightly in place while still devouring your neck. “Babe, please, let me touch you now,” you said between sighs. Jinx lifted your torso and put her right hand on the back of your neck, pulling your hair, making your head go back and then she deepened the hickeys on your skin, increasing the marks, at this point your neck had no single side that was not covered in bruises.
She pulled your hair a little harder and you gasped, then she held your face tight and said in a stern voice, “Haven’t you learned yet? You’re the one receiving here bunny, and I’m far from done with you,” her dominating words, the grip on your face and the wild look she had on you went past your ears making you shiver and reached your poor pussy already wet for her again. “Now turn around,” she said, letting go of your face and your hair, pushing your head hard. You flinched at your fiancée’s brutality and fell onto the bed, hitting the side of your face on the pillows. You were used to it, Jinx was never very soft, but today she was much wilder and you immediately obeyed her, laying down on your stomach…
#arcane#jinx arcane#jinx league of legends#jinx x reader#jinx x y/n#powder arcane#powder x reader#lesbian#jinx#jinx x you#powder x jinx#jinx x fem!reader#jinx smut#jinx lol
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Very curious about Not Your Average Pet!
This one is been a WIP for way too long, I already have like 11k written for it, and that's like... half of the fic, I think.
I got a lovely prompt some time ago that just said "Werewolves", so you know, my brain went all buzzy with possibility. I immediately went back to my days in the Teen Wolf fandom and all the fave tropes that could be found there.
The fic has Obi-Wan, a very average dude, a psychiatrist living in Northern California, suddenly come across a wolf during a lil' hike in the Redwood National Park. The wolf follows him home for some reason, and Obi-Wan kinda... adopts it? Except it's not a wolf at all as it later turns out 😎. It's a werewolf, who has imprinted on Obi-Wan, though of course he doesn't know that.
Basically a werewolf soulmate AU. Obi-Wan's called Ben here as usual with my modern AUs.
Sharing a lil' snippet below:
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There, seated right in front of the door, was the wolf. Massive, with earthy brown fur and piercing blue eyes, it was unmistakable. Ben let out a strangled gasp before he could stop himself. In an instant, the wolf lifted its head, locking its gaze onto him through the glass, their eyes meeting in eerie stillness.
He dropped the curtain as if it had burned him, taking quick steps backward—only to trip over a dining chair, sending both it and himself crashing to the floor with a loud thud.
“Doctor Kenobi? Is everything alright?” Barriss’s voice drifted from the office, laced with worry.
Ben scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off as he tried to regain his composure. “E-Everything’s—fine, Barriss. I’ll—I’ll be right with you!”
Grabbing his phone, he fumbled to pull up a number, his fingers clumsily tapping as he searched for animal control. After a few tense moments, he dialed, holding the phone to his ear, each ring feeling like an eternity.
Finally, a bored voice answered. “Animal control.”
“There’s a wolf in my backyard,” he blurted, his voice edged with panic.
A pause. “Sir, there are no wolves in California.”
“There are! I saw this one in the Redwood National Park yesterday, and now it’s followed me home!” Desperation crept into his tone despite himself.
The voice on the other end remained unimpressed. “Sir, it must be an overgrown dog. We’ll send someone to pick it up.”
“Please do!” he implored, rattling off his address with a touch of desperation.
After hanging up, Ben took a steadying breath, then returned to Barriss, visibly ruffled. She gave him a raised eyebrow but resumed her session, though her eyes darted to him with more than a few curious glances.
Finally, not too long after Barriss left, a firm knock sounded at the door. Ben opened it to find two men standing on his front step, dressed in beige uniforms with patches reading “Humboldt County Animal Control.” Their expressions were blank, bordering on apathetic. Behind them, a white pickup truck was parked by the curb, the county logo clearly visible on the door.
“We’re here to answer the call about a stray dog,” one of them said, holding a clipboard in hand. “But there’s no dog in your backyard.”
“That’s because it’s a wolf, not a dog,” Ben replied, irritation threading into his voice.
The man on the left sighed, clearly unimpressed. “Sir, there is no animal in your backyard, dog or otherwise. Now, if you’ll sign here…”
Ben scowled, pushing the clipboard aside. “At least come with me to check. It was right there.”
Exchanging resigned glances, the two men followed him around to the backyard. But when they reached the spot, the wolf was gone. Instead, sitting neatly in the middle of the rounded indent in the lawn, was a small collection of clean, scattered bones.
Ben gestured toward the pile, frustration mounting. “Look! It left… bones. I don’t even know what these are from.”
The men barely looked, casting an unimpressed glance at each other. “We don’t pick up bones,” one of them said flatly, pushing the clipboard at Ben again.
With a reluctant sigh, Ben signed the form, watching as they turned and left without a word, climbing back into their truck and pulling away.
Once they were gone, Ben fetched a plastic bag and a pair of grill tongs from the kitchen. With a look of deep disgust, he crouched beside the pile of bones, holding the tongs at an awkward angle as he gingerly picked each one up. His face twisted as he dropped them blindly into the bag, every click of bone against bone making his skin crawl. By the time he was done, he muttered a curse under his breath, shuddering and holding the bag at arm’s length like it might bite him back.
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Lydia slowly sipped her drink, staring down into the liquid as she listened to Betelgeuse speak. He was honest with her about the situation, and she was thankful for it. He didn’t sugar coat or try to hide the truth of the matter from her. This was a potentially dangerous situation, and the ghost would need to do some digging for information in the Netherworld. She frowned at the thought of herself going to class and work as if everything in life was fine, but she knew, logically, the safest place for her was here, in the living world while he worked.
As Betelgeuse spoke in depth, he became more animated, restless, and agitated. He downed his drink in one gulp and, attentive as ever, Lydia grasped the bottle and poured him another shot before recapping it and placing it back on the coffee table. She’d never seen him express such feelings of powerlessness, and the sound of raw desperation in his voice almost made her heart break. He verbalized then what she already knew; his greatest fear was losing her.
“Surely Juno will have an idea… or be able to point you in the right direction. And if not her… then, certainly the Prince?” She spoke and nodded, more to herself than to him. She was glad he had a few strings he could pull; a few people in his corner. That gave her some hope.
Lydia sat her now empty glass on the table, reaching out her hand to cover his and give it a reassuring squeeze. Betelgeuse lifted her hand to his lips and kissed just above her knuckles, and she smiled, although it didn’t quite reach her eyes. He went on to reassure her that she did indeed have powers and abilities, although unrefined, and she simply needed to hone them. She looked down at their joined hands, wishing she could feel the power pulsing through her skin like he could. When he offered to help her sharpen her skills upon his return from speaking with Juno, she gave him a genuine smile and nodded enthusiastically.
“I’d like that. I think that would be a good idea.”
Lydia let out a small chuckle at the tone of his voice as he described a scenario in which she went up against Delores, defeating her with her own set of powers. He sounded almost wistful or dreamy–and very into the prospect of her being a powerful witch, apparently. She grinned, leaning in to give him a sweet kiss on his cheek. “I’d learn every protective spell in every grimoire I can get my hands on if it keeps us safe from her. And, you know, if you’re into it.” She added at the end, giving him a little wink.
After speaking candidly and laying out the rough draft of their plan, Lydia felt a bit better. The bleak sadness and anxiety that had been churning through her had died down. They half-watched the horror movies that played on the television as they talked about the future–putting Delores behind them for good, opening up The Roadhouse, and all the small, trivial little things they wanted to accomplish together.
At around 10:30, Lydia let out a yawn and felt the couch shift, turning her eyes to meet Betelgeuse as he stood. She knew it was time. The gnawing worry returned as she slowly stood, stepping into his space to wrap her arms around his middle, her face burying into his chest. Her voice was tiny and pleading as she spoke.
“Please be careful. And let me know you’re okay, whenever you can.”
Roadhouse Redux
Continued from here
Slivers of early morning light had begun to filter in through the curtains of Betelgeuse’s bedroom windows when Lydia’s eyelids fluttered open. Slowly rolling over, she smiled sleepily when she caught sight of her ghostly husband. She took a moment to admire his profile in the early morning light, something in her chest warming at the sight of him in such domestic comfort. The most feared poltergeist in all of the Netherworld and here he was, propped up in his bed reading a book, a pair of spectacles resting at the bridge of his nose.
“Morning,” Lydia said quietly and smiled, propping her head up with her hand. Her hair was a wild tangle of inky black tresses around her head. “Guess all the excitement from yesterday must have worn me out. Last thing I remember, I was jotting down some ideas for the new Roadhouse.” Sitting up to lean against the gravestone headboard, she reached up to try and finger-comb her hair. “Are we going to head over there again today? See how much we can get done? I’m so excited to see it all come together.”
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(spoilers) I am rereading FW and once again face the same dilemma I had since my first read back in July 2023.
Do I think Lilith Sorrengail is hot or do I just have mommy issues?
Do I think Lilith Sorrengail is hot or do I just have a thing for mean women who are good at giving orders?
Do I think Lilith Sorrengail is hot or do I just enjoy an older/more unhinged version of Mira?
"Oh but she is a war criminal"
I'm aware, she's also a middle-aged woman in a uniform who'd carve me up like a pumpkin and I would not mind it at all, blessed be the violent tendencies running in this family
AND THE BIG BROWN EYES TOO, why would RY give her big brown eyes if she didn't want me to like her?
#not to sound desperate but she could step on me#the same goes for both her daughters#damn even brennan and I don't even like the guy#seriously what kind of water is this family drinking?#she's horrible but damn I can't blame papa sorrengail#I can just feel he was hot too#oh sorrengail women come save me#save me sorrengail women#I feel like that's the kind of thing I should tell my therapist if I had one#anyway I'll go back to my reread#it's almost time for Violet to give a detailed description of Imogen's arms#fourth wing#iron flame#the empyrean#lilith sorrengail#I'll probably regret this at some point
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Hi. This is my first time writing arequest so i dont really know what im doing but i love your husband sukuna series and i wanna ask for a husband sukuna with a shy baby daughter bc your sukuna is 🤌
reluctance — ryomen sukuna x f!reader
a/n: so glad you like my husband!sukuna works <33 hope this one is to your liking as well MWUAH 🫶
“come on, d/n,” you coax gently.
your daughter, barely two years old, shakes her head from behind your legs, her tiny hands clutching the fabric of your kimono as she hides from the imposing figure of her father.
sukuna stands at the doorway, his arms crossed, his usual stern expression in place.
“she’s still hiding?” sukuna raises an eyebrow, his deep voice filling the room, though it isn’t harsh.
you kneel, gently petting your daughter’s head, “she’s shy. you know how she gets when you’re around.”
sukuna exhales slowly. he observes your daughter quietly. wide-eyed but cautious, her tiny fingers tightening their grip on you. your daughter was notably quite soft.
it didn’t help that her father, sukuna, didn’t exactly have the most inviting presence.
“come here,” he says, his tone gruff, holding out a hand.
the little girl hesitates, her bottom lip trembling slightly. you place a reassuring hand on her back and whisper softly, “it’s okay” you smile, “that’s your dad; he won’t hurt you.”
at your words, sukuna looks down at your daughter, his daughter.
she looks up at you, then back at sukuna. with the smallest shuffle, she takes one step toward him then sees him quirk an eyebrow which makes her quickly retreat, still unsure.
sukuna clicks his tongue, while you giggle. your daughter clings harder onto you at the sound of his disapproval.
“she sure is jumpy,” he says, stretched hand moving to rest on his hips, “how the hell is that my daughter?”
“ever studied biology?”
“do not get smart with me,” he warns, but his threats have long lost their effect on you.
the little interaction gives your daughter a sense of familiarity, seeing you talk so easily with him. with some courage finally mustered, your daughter blinks up at sukuna, her small voice barely audible as she mumbles, “papa...?”
sukuna’s sharp gaze relaxes just the faintest bit at the sound of her voice, “yes. I’m right here.”
she stares for another moment, before she toddles over to him. she stumbles and holds desperately onto his legs. she looks up at him, and he gives her no reaction.
your daughter takes that as a good sign, and she looks back at you with sparkly eyes.
“there you go,” you laugh, standing up. “see? not so bad.”
sukuna looks at your daughter, then back at you, “you coddle her too much.”
you fold your arms with a playful smirk, “she’s two. she’s allowed to be coddled a little.”
“she’ll be stronger if she learns early.” sukuna’s voice is firm. she is clinging to him now, a little less hesitant as she begins to tug at his kimono.
she lets out small mumbles as she tries to gain his attention.
"uh-huh, sure," you tease, stepping closer and placing your hand on his forearm, "you’re so tough, honey. maybe we should get her a little curse to toughen her up. would that make you happy?"
he scoffs but doesn’t answer, his attention flicking back to the girl holding onto him. you could see the faintest hint of something in his expression, though it wasn’t something he would ever acknowledge verbally.
for some reason, the scene of his daughter faced with a curse, at least in this age, doesn’t particularly please him.
her eyes are soft. her entire being is. there is no way that she would survive, and knowing his little daughter, she will burst into tears the moment the curse appears. that conclusion makes him think.
he stays silent, before he finally mutters, "never mind. she's fine the way she is.”
you beam at his words and pull his face down to place a kiss on his cheek, “aww, you are going soft, yay!”
“I will kill you,” he sneers, but then he feels his daughter raise her arms. he looks down at her with a scowl, “what do you want, you brat?”
the tone makes her flinch back, but then she tightens her fist and stutters, “u-up!”
“you and your mother are insolent,” he side-eyes you, and you raise your hands in surrender. his eyes flick back to her, “you ordering me around?”
her eyes start to water, but she tries to persevere, “up…?”
your husband groans and bends down to pick her up. the way he gives into her demands is sweet in its own way.
it would make you laugh, if he didn’t pick you up in process which instead makes you gasp. now, both you and your daughter are carried—effortlessly—in his arms.
you smile widely at your husband, while he avoids looking at you. sukuna instead looks at you daughter. he then asks, “are you happy now?”
your daughter stares silently at him, and he stares at her back. in the midst all this staring, your daughter realizes something: her dad has a second face.
her lips start quivering, and she raises her hands to cover her face as she starts bawling and wailing
“ugh, why is she crying now?” your husband groans, irked by the sudden loud noise.
“your face probably scares her.”
“I hate kids.”
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Baby Blues
Pairing - Sylus x f!MC
Summary - In the first two weeks of being new parents, the dynamic hasn’t been quite what you and Sylus expected. He’s eager to be involved, but your daughter doesn’t seem to have warmed to him.
Word count - 2.7k
⚠️Warning⚠️ - Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth. Hurt/comfort, fluff, and a little sprinkle of angst.
Your newborn didn’t like Sylus.
It sounded ridiculous, but you know he was thinking it too. You didn’t have the gall to say it out loud—not that it even needed to be said. The fact was definitely lingering between you both.
You never thought much of why she would wriggle and kick up a storm in your stomach whenever he touched the swell of your belly, but you now had an inclination that it was because she didn’t like his hands there.
It was strange and upsetting, but he didn’t seem too hurt by it so far, only silently helpless as he watched you do everything. You were two weeks postpartum, so your emotions were already all over the place. It seemed as though Sylus was holding his own feelings back to make room for yours, and when you had asked him about it, he simply kissed your forehead and reassured you that he was fine. All while your screaming daughter cried for you against his chest.
Not that he opened up to you all that often. You did manage to get things out of him with a push sometimes, but he was like an unyielding gate, refusing to open to anyone.
Your exhaustion was only adding to the toll on your fragile emotions. The baby only wanted your touch, and sleep was almost impossible for you because of that very reason. Only you could feed her. Only you could soothe her. Only you could touch her.
That was one thing that was really getting to Sylus. The bloodshot whites of your eyes as you rocked the fussy newborn to sleep and fed her at all hours of the morning. The barely touched plates of food that ended up stone cold and in the bin. Not to mention the completely non-existent ten minutes you needed to at least have a wash without having to run out of the shower to her aid.
He must have felt quite useless in the weeks where you should be recovering, but he didn’t want you to worry about his feelings by indulging you in his thoughts.
Your pregnancy had been smooth, ending with a good twenty-seven hours of rather torturous labour, and pushing that went on for an agonising two hours. It had all been worth it, though. Your little bundle of joy with tufts of platinum hair had finally greeted you both with a piercing wail, but eased her protests once placed against your heaving chest.
You just wished she would settle with both parents.
It was another day of desperate wailing, your arms becoming so heavy with the exertion of having no option but to hold her. You tried to put her in her pram for Sylus to push her around for a while, but her cries only increased to the point of her little face turning purple. You couldn’t sit and just listen to it, and you absolutely would not ignore her—no matter how much Sylus pushed for you to go and get some sleep.
“She wants me,” you say for what felt like the millionth time that week.
Sylus was evidently reluctant to stop trying, but he wouldn’t keep you from her. He conceded with a defeated huff, watching your every move as you gently lifted your screeching daughter out of the plush pram. Her screams died down quickly as you placed her against your chest, her ear-piercing wails whittling down to soft whimpers.
“Of all the dangerous paths I’ve crossed and violent challenges I’ve encountered, it’s our newborn daughter who finally defeats me,” he mumbles quietly, trying to make a lighthearted joke about it.
You tried to smile at his attempt to add a bit of humour to the situation, but the comment only made you cry. Hard.
“Hey.” He immediately stepped toward you, rubbing a large hand up and down your back soothingly. You had to give it to him, his patience with you in the last two weeks had been immaculate. “Don’t cry, sweetie.”
You couldn’t stop, your ragged breaths and shaking shoulders refusing to relent. “I d-don’t get it,” you bawl. “What are we doing d-differently?”
Sylus sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His hand continued to rub soothing circles against your back to ease your upset. “Well, she did live inside you for nine months. Besides, you didn’t exactly like me either when we first met.”
He smiled faintly, tilting his head down to capture your gaze. Despite the obvious tease, he still seemed to be holding himself back. It was frustrating him more than he wanted to admit to you. You knew he was protecting your feelings, but you wished he would just show some sense of vulnerability.
You don’t dare set your sleeping daughter down in her moses basket, knowing full well that she would just wake straight back up. So the rest of the afternoon is spent with your tiny newborn curled up against your chest, a few feeding and changing breaks in between.
Once the day turned into night, nothing in the world sounded more appealing to you than a hot shower, a hot meal, and a hot cup of tea. But letting her scream and cry while you did that was not an option. It wasn’t fair on her, and it wasn’t fair on Sylus.
He didn’t leave you unless he absolutely had to throughout the day. You watched him every time he heard a little whimper from the baby, his hands flexing and twitching. Every time you had to get up to do something for her, he was either at your back or side.
He wanted to help.
The chef brought through a very large bowl of marinated chicken and pasta for you, upon Sylus’s instruction. As soon as the bowl was set on the little table beside your recliner chair, you almost began drooling. You hadn’t managed to eat much at all in the chaos, and Sylus wasn’t amused when you didn’t even get the chance to finish the two biscuits he’d brought you earlier in the day.
You reached a careful hand over to the fork, not even lifting it before your daughter began to wriggle and whine in your other arm. Dropping it immediately, you retract your hand, only making it halfway back to the fussy newborn before long, slender fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist.
“No,” Sylus says firmly. “Absolutely not.”
Your initial response is to immediately go on the defence. “She’s cry—”
“I know she’s crying,” he interrupted tightly. “I know. But you’re going to eat while your food is hot, and you’re going to do it without our screaming daughter on your chest.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
He had that commanding look in his eye, the one that would intimidate most, but was only used on you when he was especially adamant on you doing something necessary for yourself.
You were a little relieved to see him so passionate, if you were being honest. He had been treading on eggshells to not upset you or the baby for fourteen whole days, and it wasn’t good for anyone. You felt the tension on him every time you both managed to get into bed together for more than five minutes. He needed this little outburst.
“This needs to stop now. I’m going to figure her out, and you are going to eat. Alright?” His tone left no room for argument, and the more your daughter protested against your intention to eat, the more hungry and tired you felt.
It wasn’t easy, but you handed her off to him carefully, swallowing a lump in your throat. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her distressed little face as Sylus attempted to cradle her.
You were practically twitching, your legs about to push the footrest of the recliner down to retrieve her in the first thirty seconds she was away from you. Sylus noticed immediately, and pushed it back up with his foot before you could close it down fully.
“She’s not in any danger,” he said calmly, but his whole body was visibly tense. “She’s right here, I won’t leave the room. Just eat, sweetie.”
You wanted to protest further, but he wasn’t going to yield this time. His eyes remained trained on you until you finally sagged back into the chair, and it wasn’t until you picked up your fork that he finally turned away, focusing on the distraught newborn kicking up a storm against his chest.
He held her the way you did, one hand cupped over her head to keep it steady while the other hand softly patted her back. Why she didn’t want to be near him was an utter mystery to you, he wasn’t doing anything incorrectly.
You couldn’t eat while the two most important people in your life were quite clearly in a distressing situation before you. “Are you alright?” You asked him gently, hoping that he would answer you.
“I will be if you eat,” he quickly responded, not looking at you.
Sighing, you stab a slice of the chicken onto your fork, just looking at it for a moment. Your brain had managed to kick itself into gear as you forged a new approach to his silence.
This was an opportunity to head in the right direction.
“I’ll eat if you speak to me.”
Blood red eyes shot in your direction, an eyebrow raised. “Blackmail?”
You quickly shook your head. “You were right, this does need to stop. Starting with you shutting yourself off from me.”
“Eat.”
The forked piece of chicken points straight at his unamused face. “Talk.”
He shook his head a little in clear annoyance, the stress consuming him. Your daughter continued to wail, immune to the warmth and safety of his arms. He was basically trapped after promising to remain in the room with you.
Your bleary eyes held his irises of rubies, neither of you conceding. It was a mental challenge to ignore the fragrant aroma of garlic and fresh basil beneath your nose, but you were not eating until at least one of the two beautiful people before you had calmed down.
Sylus visibly swallowed, finally giving in as he noticed your lack of a bluff. “Do you think she knows?” His voice was quiet, barely heard over your newborn’s cries.
“Knows what?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again, nodding his head towards the piece of chicken on your fork. You shovel it into your gob, eager for him to continue.
His eyes flicker down to your daughter before he speaks again. “Do you think she knows that I’ve done terrible things? Do you think that’s why she doesn’t like me?”
“I—” you grumble and roll your eyes as he nods to your plate of food again, waiting for you to take another mouthful that you end up having to speak through, “I don’t see how she could. Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”
The corner of his mouth curled upward ever-so-slightly. “Missing my tongue, kitten?”
You couldn’t help your own smile as his shoulders sagged a little from where they were practically touching his ears. It wasn’t often that he opened up to you like this. You almost always had to pry or throw in a proposition to coax him into speaking.
You took another bite of your food, moving the plate from the small table to your lap. “Do you really think she doesn’t like you?”
His smirk faded away quickly, a gentle thumb brushing over your daughter's head. She continued to cry, but the volume had dropped a little. “Do you not think that?” He asked.
You didn’t know how to answer that question. To tell the truth, you did think that, but not for the same reason he was thinking.
“I think she may be a little attached at the moment. We’re very different shapes and sizes. Maybe she feels—”
“Unsafe?”
His tone had dropped an octave—something you didn’t think was possible considering the already bone-chilling vibrations of his voice. Never before had you witnessed him in a state of such vulnerability. He was insecure about this, and it was finally starting to show.
You went to stand up to be near him, but he immediately stepped forward to halt your movement.
“Eat.”
Not wanting to lose this free-speaking Sylus you had barely met before, you did as he said, twirling a fat mouthful of pasta onto your fork for extra brownie points.
You both remained in silence for a few moments, only your fork scraping against the bowl in your lap marrying with the sounds of your baby’s cries surrounding the small sitting room.
Sylus’s gaze didn’t leave the newborn cradled in his arms, a gentle sway in his hips as he tried to keep her moving. All you could do was study his composure, seeing it as it cracked.
After a moment, he looked back at you. “I don’t want to keep failing you.”
You coughed on the mouthful of the creamy pasta at his words, completely in awe of his confession.
Failing you? How did he get to that conclusion?
“You’ve done everything for her,” he continued, not allowing you to immediately reassure him. “I want to be able to do everything, too. For both of you.”
The all too familiar sting in your wet eyes built in intensity by the second, and you quickly found yourself sniffling.
Not only was he insecure about your daughter not feeling safe in his arms, but he felt that he’d failed you both in the past two weeks. It was heartbreaking for you to hear.
“Don’t cry—”
“You’re…fuck, Sylus. You’re not failing anyone,” you tuck your fork back into the pasta with a loud sniffle, ignoring his glare that silently demanded that you continue to eat. “How the hell did you come to that conclusion?”
He looked entirely reluctant to answer, his head dropping back down to stare at his tiny twin. You didn’t want him to stop speaking again, so you quietly picked your fork back up, hoping it would capture his attention.
The silence stretched between you as you made the effort to eat for his sake. Even your daughter's cries became a little weaker—like she was pitying him.
He didn’t look at you as he said, “I’m the bad guy. The boogie man. The kind of monster that parents threaten their kids with visits from in the middle of the night if they don’t brush their teeth before bed.”
“Not in our story, you’re not,” you quickly reassured him earnestly. “You’re the husband and father who keeps the monsters away from your family. That’s the only Sylus she will ever know. The real one.”
He still didn’t look up from the newborn, now almost completely silent in his arms, but you catch a subtle bob in his throat. You didn’t need him to respond to you. You knew you had said the right words to soothe that self-deprecating thought in his complicated mind. You could see it.
“Have I told you how perfect you were two weeks ago,” he asked, knowing full well that he’d told her every day since then.
Your mouth curled into a soft smile. Even after all these years together—after welcoming your first child into this scary, yet beautiful world—Sylus had no trouble giving you butterflies.
“I think you might’ve mentioned it,” you hummed softly.
And on that very note, the baby was fast asleep in his hold for the very first time in two whole weeks. His face didn’t reveal anything, but you knew he was relieved. All he wanted to do was make this easier for the both of you.
Finally, you had managed to figure out what the problem had been all this time.
“You were too tense,” you point out quietly, noticing how openly at ease he now was. “That’s what she didn’t like.”
He hummed in response, unable to tear his gaze away from the sleeping babe in his arms. You didn’t say anything further, letting him enjoy that special moment in peace while you proceeded to enjoy the rest of your meal.
Despite the challenges of becoming new parents, things were going to be alright from that point onwards.
A/N - Hello! I hope you enjoyed this oneshot, thank you so much for reading. Just to let you know, I do take requests ❤️
#love and deepspace#sylus#sylus x mc#sylus x reader#sylus hurt/comfort#sylus fluff#sylus angst#sylus x you#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#l&ds sylus#love and deepspace mc#sylus x y/n#sylus love and deepspace#love and deepspace imagine#sylus fanfiction#sylus fanfic#lads mc#love and deepspace fanfiction
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