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nouvxllev · 7 months ago

Note

Request!!

Jenna Ortega x Reader

Summary: Jenna and R are like on ldr cuz of her work, after mooonthhss, J surprises R by going back home early to her. J gets so worried cuz R isn't in the house, and she can't contact her. R gets home wasted, J confronts her, R breaks down, rambling about how she just misses Jenna, not knowing it is actually Jenna who she was speaking to... she mistakes her to be Emma..😭🙏🏻

unbearable uncertainty

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: request! ^^

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: slight angst? maybe? bittersweet??

a/n: wrote tara carpenter smut then dipped. oh my god, i truly apologize for going on an unknowingly and unbearable hiatus from writing. but on the bright side, i met someone whos truly so special and i cherish the most on here :] thank you for the request and im sorry if ive been holding it back for months!

(ps. ive forgotten how to write entirely, please be patient with me)

Long goodbyes were never easy.

How could Jenna ever forget the last piece of comfort she felt in your arms as you held her for the final time before she boarded the plane? The warmth and security she found when you whispered "I love you" was something she couldn't find elsewhere.

You hugged her so tightly, Jenna felt as if you were trying to fold her into your very being.

You always did that, always have.

But you held her a little longer. Closer, tighter. As if it'll be the last time Jenna falls in love with you. It felt too surreal when she heard your voice started breaking in tears like there was a cloud over your heart Jenna used to bring life in.

She tried to memorize every detail of your face, every line and shadow, every crease and every feature like you were a past lover she's been searching for, she wanted to hold onto each imperfection and perfection as if capturing this moment in her heart could somehow lessen the pain of parting.

When you reached out, gently brushing a stray tear from her cheek, and she leaned into your touch, savoring the warmth that would soon be gone. It was a gesture so tender, so full of love, that it made her heart ache even more.

Would she have done something differently? Perhaps tell you she got it all wrong, tell the producers and chosen to live in peace with you and frolic in some field of flowers like a coming of age movie.

No, she could only swallow the lump in her throat and urge her heart to stop grieving for something that wasn't even dead but merely distant.

Vermont proved to be a cold comfort, like winter for a thousand nights without somebody to hold on, stark contrast to the warmth she'd known for all these months.

The first night was the hardest—cruel, even. As she unpacked her bags in the apartment paid for b the producers, it was a far cry from the home you had shared. Despite its charm for space, it felt emptier than it should've been. A shell.

Jenna remembers lying awake that night, unable to find solace even in the darkness. Each thought weighed heavier than the last, fearing you would grow to resent the fame she would have declined in a heartbeat if given the choice, that loving her had become more of a chore than a joy.

The frequent overseas flights and constant altering of time zones only added to the strain, affecting even how her heart would beat. Conversations became shorter while days grew longer, and only letters and distant updates from you brought reassurance. She missed the moments of quiet intimacy, the laughter shared, and the smile she could reach up and kiss, the comfort of knowing she was always there for you.

It was a constant routine of staring at the ceiling, desperate to imagine your arounds around her and your warm breath against the neck. The loneliness was a crushing weight, far more realistic than a mere idea it was. Unbearable.

She found herself wanting for the familiar warmth and solace that only your presence could provide her. She would watch herself listening for your voice, remembering how you would tell her if she's been overworking, half-expecting to hear your laughter or even a slight tone or maybe even the sound of your footsteps.

She always found small ways to feel connected to you.

The letters you sent were her lifeline. She would read them over and over as if it were new ink, tracing the words with her fingers that carried your thoughts and reassurances, imagining your voice speaking them. Each letter was a piece of you, a reminder that you were thinking of her, missing her just as much.

The voice calls were both a blessing and a curse.

Hearing your voice brought her comfort, but it also made the distance between you feel even more unbearable. She would stay up late into the night, talking to you, laughing with you, sharing her day and listening to yours. But when the call ended, silence would descend, and the emptiness would return with a vengeance. She would lie in bed, clutching the pillow, trying to replay the sound of your voice.

So it was a huge, pain-in-the-ass problem for her, the amount of calls and thousands of sleepless nights with her arms wrapped around a pillow instead of the love of her life was a step away from insanity. It seemed dramatic, but can you blame a girl!? Love always had a way of making seem things insignificant in comparison.

Another grueling month without the love of your life? She couldn't and wouldn't even bear it, you would have to finally cut the two parts of her brain in half and throw away the other one to endure that kind of torture.

So what started as a joke with her finger hovering over the "book flight" button while on the phone with you turned out to be, surprise surprise, not even close to a silly little joke.

She clicked it impulsively, without a second thought or even a first one.

Her heart raced faster than ever with the thought of seeing you again. Feeling your arms around her, hearing you laugh, smile, and talk was all the motivation she needed. It was like a recurring dream you’d betray another day for to live in.

And here she is now, at your place, luggage in hand in the dead of night, looking like she fled the country, with that familiar airport scent still clinging to her clothes and hair. She smelled like whatever hit-terminal coffee it was that day and recycled air.

Jenna's been muttering to herself all evening, "Pick up, pick up, pick up, oh my God, who leaves their house unlocked!?"

Her phone, balanced on her shoulder, was one slip away from hitting the ground, and she was one missed call away from losing it. She imagine the look on your face when you saw her standing there, unannounced yet so desperately wanted, not like wanting to send out a search party for you!

It was voicemail after voicemail, a ring before a cruel tone that mocked her for seconds, the unknowing certainty that something had happened to you.

You’ve been M.I.A ever since she arrived, and the last text she received from you was a breezy, "I’m going out tonight with co-workers" followed by a thousand kisses. The gesture was sweet, but it’s not helping now that it’s 12 fucking a.m. and you’re nowhere to be found.

She paced back and forth in your living room, the anxiety gnawing at her insides and the sharp pain from her palm to her heart had never been so severe.

Every creak of the floorboards made her thoughts race, hoping it was you finally coming home. The silence of the house was deafening, broken only by her thoughts replaying your voice. She glanced at the clock on the wall that displayed digits she seriously did not want to see.

She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she saw you with her own eyes, until she could touch you and confirm that you were truly safe.

Her hands immediately went back to her phone, wondering if your co-workers would even answer a distress actress concerned about her girlfriend if there was a high and 100% chance they were wasted with you. Obviously, each call went straight to voicemail.

Why is being sent on delivered the most humiliating ever!?

"Fuck," Jenna cursed under her breath, her head lowered in defeat as she stared at the countless of messages she sent to your friends, co-workers, shit even your family!

The only thought going through her head is "thank you for birthing Emma Myers."

emma

just said goodbye shes round the corner

sent one attachment

going back to her place

Even light couldn't travel as fast compared to how quickly Jenna reacted when that attachment processed in her brain. It was a photo of you (thank fuck), looking a bit tipsy, sure, maybe knocked in the head, but you were unharmed, waving goodbye to Emma.

The wave of relief that washed over Jenna felt like an overall baptism—a splash of water to commemorate coming back to a harsher reality than she didn't expect, but reality nonetheless.

She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity, but she shoved the thought aside. Her focus was on you, and getting to you as fast as possible.

If you weren't going to come back home sooner or later, she'd come to you. Geared up and mentally preparing everything to combat the cold weather, plants of how she would take care of you, and a surprise. Aka, her.

Is what she would've followed through if she didn’t hear the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.

The sound was so abrupt. Too sudden and swift it nearly made her jump out of her skin unlike any scare people tried on her.

Her heart pounded as she turned towards the door, hoping, begging, and nearly willing the universe to grant her at least one moment of sanity. She watched the door creak open, and there you were—alive. You stumbled in, eyes bleary but safe, and Jenna felt the tension drain from her body as if it had never been there.

"Y/n—!" Jenna's sudden movement was a blur, barely having time to embrace yourself before she collided with you, the force of her embrace nearly knocking out the ragged breath you had left.

You could've noticed the slight tremble in her frame, heart pounding against your chest, and a hand clinging onto your shirt that pulled you closer if you weren't drunk.

“Daaamn, girl, you walk faast! I swear we dropped you at your street?? Why are you in—shit—in my house??” Your voice slurred and you stumbled as if the very act required more effort than you could muster, mind sluggish and your sense dulled, voice thick and unsteady.

You were undeniably and completely fucked. To say the least.

Drunk, Intoxicated. Mentally impaired. Right, how could Jenna even forget that?

You barely managed to step inside when your legs gave out, sending you tumbling to the floor.

The world tilted and spun around you as if you were a sun blinded by its own solar system. Your vision blurred and you struggled to make sense of the swirling images and a familiar blobby brunette girl in your home.

To no surprise, Jenna was at your side in an instant, crouching down with her face filled with concern as she looked you over, her arms reaching out to steady you. "Y/n… Why on earth do you have a huge straight bump on your forehead?"

"I…" you mumbled, blinking up at her. Her face looked like one of those spiky and blobbed images you see through a rain-streaked window. "I was—I was watching one of those 'how to be a good girlfriend in an LDR relationship' videos on the way home. And—and well, there was a pole."

Jenna's expression shifted, concern to curiosity. "What… What? What do you mean? Why? Why are you searching those—"

You felt like your chest was closing in on you, your throat mimicked those of a barren wasteland, and embarrassment washed over you like a tidal wave. You wanted to shrug it off, to laugh and tell her you were just curious, that it was nothing. But you couldn't.

"Because!" you burst out, voice trembling as you looked away from her eyes, "How else am I supposed to believe that I'm good enough when Jenna's halfway across the world? When every time she touches me, it's like she thinks I'm everything you've ever wished for in a star, and I—"

You faltered, your breath catching, the words threatened to slip away from you, but the emotions, doubt and fear—they had been building up for too long. You couldn’t stop now, even if you wanted to.

"I don't deserve it, I'm not enough for her. There's something more that i should be doing, something more I could be, because how can I be enough when she's there and I'm here? I can't hold her, I can't comfort her when she's stressed, I cant show her how much I care every day like I want to. How am I supposed to truly feel that I'm doing fine and she's feeling loved? Every time she tells me that I'm enough, I try to believe her, but—but there's this voice in my head that keeps saying, 'What if she's just saying it? What if one day, she realized she was wrong? That I'm not great, that she's just loving a version of me she created in her head, that she finds a fatal flaw in me that keeps her away from loving me? What if I'm not who she thought I was?"

You can't speak anymore, but your mouth persists in words like a machine. Your eyes already welled up, you bit your lip to stop it from trembling and forming a frown.

"I want to be perfect for her. I want her to feel like she's never missing anything from me or feel like she's falling short from the love she gives me and I give her. But I don't know how to do that. I don't know anything. So I watch those stupid videos to hope I'll find a way to be enough, to finally feel like I am. But no matter what I do, it feels like it'll never be. How can I be it when I'm not with her? How can I be enough from so far away?"

Tears blurred your vision as you tried to reach out, "I just miss her, Emma. I just miss her so damn much. I thought I could handle it, you know? That I could be strong, that I could keep it together until the next time I saw her. But it's been too long, I keep feeling like I'm falling apart. That my relationship is falling apart for her. I thought maybe if I just stepped back, she'd find what she needed without me getting in the way."

"I try to keep things feeling normal. I try to tell myself that the distance is temporary, that we’re strong enough to make it through, but what if we’re not? What if the longer this goes on, the more we rip apart? I don’t want to lose her, but I feel like I’m losing pieces of us every day."

"I'm scared, Emma," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared that one day, she'll take all her words back, she'll realize it's not enough. That every text she sends me is in complete dread, that she's just staying for the hell of it. That she finds a better relationship than what we have now."

Your gaze was locked on the floor, but Jenna's eyes were on you, wide and creased with confusion. The words you've thrown at her just echoed in her mind, looping relentlessly until they became the only thing she could hear along with the race of her heart thudding so loudly. She had been silent the whole time, listening to you pour out your fears, insecurities, on how much you've missed her.

She shouldn't have. She wasn't Emma.

Jenna's eyes flickered to you, your eyes was stuck on the floor, your shoulders slumped as if you were carrying the weight of the world. And in that moment, despite the ache in her chest, all she wanted was to hold you. It's the only thing that felt natural for her.

She closed the gap between you two, close enough that her knees brushed yours, and slowly enough as if she were afraid that you might pull away. The contact felt like a connection, barely there, yet it grounded you and your worries. It felt familiar.

Jenna's breath as she looked at you, her eyes searching your face for any sign that you were uncomfortable, that you were still here with her.

Without a word, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around you at last. Her touch was tentative, she was unsure you wanted her there, but as her hand rested on your back, she felt the subtle rise and fall of your breathing. You were relaxed in her arms, you became yourself underneath her hands. She pulled you in closer like she was trying to shield you from the weight of whatever thought you had put on yourself.

"Y/n," she spoke, you knew that voice. it wasn't distant or abstract, it was real, present, and undeniably her. You knew this. The fact that you didn’t pull away. You didn’t flinch. In fact, the moment her presence reached you, it was as if a piece of you had been anchored to the ground again.

You knew her.

The warmth of her skin, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as you let yourself pull in her, it was familiar, comforting. You hadn't even realized how tightly you've been holding onto your fears and worries. But now, with her, they're no longe the loud and consuming force they had been before.

"Jenna?" you whispered, your voice was barely audible, trembling as it left your lips and hope it gets through with her.

It was the first time you had said her name aloud in her presence. You could feel her heartbeat against her chest, the steady rhythm that took both of you off. You pulled away from her embrace, looking at her as if you saw a ghost.

"I'm back home," she whispered back, her voice soft like it never changed.

Her words settled into your bones, offering a comfort that you didn't realize you've been craving so desperately. And for the first time in what felt like a long time, you allowed yourself to believe them. She wasn’t just saying it—she meant it. Jenna was here, she wasn’t going to leave.

You didn’t care what she had to say; it felt impolite, selfish even, but all you wanted was to crash into her arms like you had before. You were no longer standing at a distance. You didn’t think, you didn’t hesitate, you just moved.

With a sudden rush, you wrapped your arms around her as if she were the only lifeline you had in a world that felt like it was spinning out of control.

You clung to her as you murmured her name over and over again as if it was a prayer the heavens needed to hear. Your fingers gripped the fabric of her shirt and every part of you was aware of her. How her body felt against yours, the way she held you felt like a promise saying she wouldn't let you go in her life.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, your voice shaking as you pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, your tears blurring your vision. "I'm sorry for everything. For doubting you, for pushing you away when you clearly didn't want to.

"You’re finally here," you murmured, as you looked up at her, "You’re back with me."

Jenna's grip around you tightened, and you could feel her smile that always made you float in the air, even though you couldn't see it. "I missed you," she said softly, "I was so worried about you and I kept thinking about all the things we used to do together. I missed the way you laugh, the way you always know how to make me feel better. I just wanted to hear your voice again, to feel close to you. Don't worry about falling short, I'm already standing on a mountain of love that you've given me."

It was her, she was the same Jenna you've always loved. How she held you in your arms, how she kissed you after apologizing countless of times, how she feels in your arms, how she moves, how she laughs, how she makes you feel like you're safe and secured. Uncertainty washed away from you.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna marie ortega

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quintinh43 · 1 year ago

Text

Heavy Heads and Heavy Hearts | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn gets injured as a game. His girlfriend takes him and cares for him.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, Head injury, food, angst, mentions of vomiting (no actual vomiting)

Notes: Hi guyss! Hope everyone is doing ok! Injured Quinn got the most votes, so here we are! This one is the longest one ive done so far, I definitely did not mean for it to be as long as it is but here we are. Also, im not a professionl in any way, so i cant say this is concussion accurate. I just went off of my experience in dealing with athletes that have Concussions, and my own Concussions lol. Anywaysss I hope yall enjoy. Love Soph.

---

There was something so gut-wrenching about watching the man you love get injured. One second, Quinn was cutting quickly around the back of the net, and the next, he was getting slammed into the boards hard. It was nothing. You get hit, you get up, and you keep going. It was simply a part of hockey.

Except this time, Quinn wasn't getting up. He wasn't moving at all. You stand up, heart in your throat. The room feels like it's tilting. The sharp shrill of the refs whistle cut through the air, stopping the play as the refs skate over to where Quinn is lying motionless on the ice.

They are calling for medics. Your head is spinning with the worst possible scenarios as you excuse yourself from your seat and practically sprint to the locker room. One of the security members holds out a hand to stop you.

"Ma'am, you can't be here, please exit this area"

Great. Just fucking great. This is exactly what you need right now. The overwhelming need that aches in your bones demanding to know that Quinn is ok makes you want to cry. Because now this fucker won't let you through. And you're nearly too panicked to do anything about it.

The logical route would be pulling out Quinns wallet, that has his ID in it, and explaining that you are his girlfriend. But with your anxiety high, and your heart in your throat logic is not the first thing on your mind.

"Listen buddy," you start, ready to absolutely rip this guy a new one. Thankfully for him, one of the trainers who knows you happens to be exiting the locker room.

"Let her through, Jace, that's Hughes' girl" he says, waving you forward. The security guard- Jace apparently, lets you pass with a grumble.

By the time you get rink side, Quinn is (half) conscious- thank God, and being half carried off the ice by Petey and Boeser. He's transfered to the care of two medics, who sit him on a bench and begin to check him over.

One of them is asking him questions gently, both to keep him awake and assess the damage to his head. While the other stabilizes his neck. "Can you tell me your full name and today's date?" One of the medics asks.

"Quintin Jerome Hughes," he slurs, eyes fluttering, "its Feb'uary... twenty-second, twenty-twenty-four"

Your breath hitches. He got the date wrong. You can't help the panic that rushes through you. "Good job Quinn, do you know where you are?"

"Van, Roger's arena," he mumbles, "playing hockey"

"Good," the medic hums. "we need to take off your equipment to make sure you aren't injured anywhere else. Is that ok?"

"Y/n" he mumbles, eyes closing and head tilting forward, his head snapped back up a moment later, and if the other medic hadn't had his head stabilized he would probably have mild whiplash.

"Stay awake for us, Quinn. Is Y/n someone you'd like us to call?"

You spring forward at the mention of your name, "I'm here," you say, pushing past a couple of people who are standing around, ready to assist if the situation gets worse.

"My girl" Quinn slurs, his lips tilting into a small smile. Your heart flutters at that. In the midst of his delirium, he still cares about you dearly.

"Hello Y/n, I'm Sam," the guy who's been asking him questions, "and that's Kieran," he says, nudging his head towards Kieran, who gives a small smile.

"Do you think you could help us remove his equipment?"

"Yes absolutely, just tell me what to do" you say, glad that you can help.

"Can you remove his jersey and shoulder pads? Kieran needs to keep his neck stable, and I need to check for any other possible injuries. And keep him talking"

"Yeah, of course," you start by bending his elbow to slide it out of the sleeve of his jersey.

"Hey Quinny" you say softly, sliding his other arm out of his jersey "you played really really good today, I'm so proud of you"

"Thanks baby," he murmers, "glad you're here." He tries to lean his head against your chest, he huffs when Kieran doesn't let him, and you can't help but let out a breathy laugh, patting his head lovingly.

Kieran tilts his head to one side, allowing you to pull the jersey over his head. You deposit it in his cubby behind him and make quick work undoing his shoulder pads and pulling them off gently.

"I'm glad I'm here too. What do you wanna eat when we get home?"

Sam gently asks you to move out of the way so he can check Quinns upper body for injuries. The second you aren't doing something, the anxiety rises back to your chest. You take a deep breath and begin to unlace his skates. You pull them off, slipping a pair of slides on his feet so his socks don't get wet.

"Hmm" he hums in thought "potatos...?"

You laugh, "Alright Quinny. We'll have potatos"

Finally after palpating his whole body to make sure he doesn't have any other major injuries, testing his reflexes, and asking him a bunch more questions. They diagnose him with a minor concussion, and give you a list of things to look out for.

They deem it safe enough to leave you alone with him for a little bit and tell you to change him into something more comfortable. It takes a bit of work to take off his hockey pants and shinguards and get him into a pair of sweats and a hoodie.

By the time you're done, the equipment manager and the medics have collected the rest of his equipment. After making sure his hockey bag is fully packed with everything, you grab his keys from your purse, while the EM helps you bring his bag to his car, and the medic helps you half carry him down.

He can mostly walk on his own, but better safe than sorry. On the ride home he keeps his head resting against the window, a cool compress is wrapped around his neck, and he's holding one over his eyes with one hand, while the other holds yours tightly.

You trace your thumb over the backs of his knuckles soothingly and keep him talking the whole way home. "What kind of potatoes do you want when we get home, Hon?"

"Can I change my mind?" He asks sheepishly. He's still talking very quietly and slurring his words a little, but the medics said that was nothing to worry about unless he started getting worse. So far, it was nothing to worry about.

"Of course my love, anything you want" you bring your intertwined hands to rest on your chest. It's a comforting weight over your heart, that you didn't know you needed until it was there.

Your phone lights up from the cup holder, it's a text from Petey, saying that the Canucks won the game. There are a few other texts, from his parents and brothers. You make a mental note to reply to them as soon as you get Quinn settled at home.

"Can we have noodles?" He mumbles.

"Yes, of course, love." You can't help but kiss the back of his knuckles. Watching Quinn get injured to the point of losing consciousness was not something you ever wanted to experience ever again.

"Your boys won, by the way," you say softly.

"The did?!" Quinns head shoots up front the window, and he is filled with instant regret as a sharp twinge shoots down his neck and to his shoulder.

"Ow fuck" he mumbles, laying his head back against the cool window.

"Careful love," you gasp, squeezing his hand.

"I know, I'm sorry," he mumbles, squeezing your hand back. You sigh, you have been on edge since he got injured, and it didn't look like the anxiety would dissipate for a while. You would just have to deal with it and try not to be an over bearing worry wart.

"You guys won 5-2" you smile, finally pulling into your apartment parking lot.

"I didn't do much except get my brains knocked around" he grumbles. "Some captain I am"

You scoff, flicking him in the nose lightly. "Don't sell yourself short, Quinny. Three of those points are yours."

Quinn wrinkles his nose and leans forward to bite your finger. You yelp, snatching it away with a glare. He sticks his tongue out at you, and you laugh, your chest feeling a little lighter than before.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs. " You say, undoing your seat belt and getting out of the car. You run around to his passenger side and open the door for him, and help him step out of the car. He throws an arm over your shoulder, and you wrap one around his waist. He's not as wobbly on his feet as he was earlier, but he still isn't at full strength.

Quinn squeezes his eyes shut and tucks his face against your hair. The florescent elevator lights were not pleasant in his state. "Can we keep the apartment lights off?" He mumbles against your hair.

"Sure love," you said rubbing your hand up and down his back soothingly, "we're almost home," you fish the keys out of your purse and unlock it. You toe your shoes off at the door while Quinn slips his off easily and you guide him to the couch.

"What do you want first, baby? Food or a shower?"

"I'm not really hungry" Quinn mumbles, laying on the couch and adjusting the ice pack under his neck. You sit on the couch handle, stroking his hair back from his forehead. "I know honey, but we should try to get something light in your system, if you're feeling upto it."

Quinn sighs. He knows you're right. "I can make you toast? Or a sandwich or something?" You offer, smoothing your thumb over his hairline.

"Do we have bagles?" He asks

"Yeah, we have bagles, I'll make you one of those?"

"Yes please," he mumbles, you plant a kiss on his forehead and go pop a bagle into the toaster, "can you do it with cream cheese and jam?" He asks, chewing on his lip nervously.

"Sure, Hon, I'm gonna make myself some tea. Do you want a cup?" You ask as you pull the cream cheese and jam out of the fridge.

"No thanks, I'm ok" he mumbles. After his bagle is done being made, you help ease him into sitting position, and sit next to him with your cup of tea. He eats a bit more than half the bagle, and you finish off the rest before deeming it time to shower.

You remember all the messages from his family, and quickly shoot them texts, saying that he's ok and you just got home and you'll talk more when he gets settled.

"I'm gonna put these back in the freezer while we shower, yeah?"

Quinn nods, handing the ice packs to you to put in the freezer. You help him up slowly and lead him to the bathroom. You keep the lights off and leave the door open so you have a little bit of light from the bedroom.

While the shower warms up, you grab a clean change of clothes for both you and Quinn and set them on the counter before helping Quinn strip. He has to brace an arm against the wall while you hold him steady with one hand and maneuver his clothes off with the other.

"I'm sorry," he murmers against your hair as you help him step into the shower.

"Oh Quinn, there's nothing to be sorry for," you say, sitting him on the shower seat.

"I'm sorry you have to take care of me like this." He huffs, resting his head against the cool Ike of the shower wall, "I feel so pathetic, " his voice cracks, and your heart nearly breaks.

"Quinn, my love, taking care of you is not a burden. It's a pleasure. I love you to the ends of the earth, and I would do anything for you, my sweets. " You kiss him on the forehead sweetly as if to prove your point.

He doesn't say much about it after that, but you can tell he still feels bad. You make quick work of washing his hair, being very careful of where a small bump has formed on his head. You scrub him down and rinse him off before shutting off the water.

You wrap a towel around yourself and then dry Quinn off gently before helping him change into his pajamas. "Let me change and then dry your hair a little bit before we have to put an ice pack on your head, ok?"

Quinn nods. He sits on the counter, leaning against the wall while you change into your pajamas. You plug in the hair dryer and dry his hair, keeping his head steady with one hand. As soon as his hair is no longer soaking wet, you help him off the bathroom counter and into bed. You grab the ice packs from the freezer and help him position them on his head and neck until he's comfortable.

"I'll be back in less than ten minutes, baby. I'm just going to grab your stuff from the car, ok?" You say pulling on a pair of sweats and a hoodie over your pajamas.

"Ok" Quinn mumbles, "I'll call if anything" he says patting his nightstand to make sure his phone is there.

You kiss him on the forehead and pull the bedroom door halfway closed so the light from the hall isn't too bright. Grabbing his car keys and your phone from the counter, you hit the call button on Ellen's contact as you slip out the door.

She picks up on the first ring "Hows he doing?" She asks immediately. She sounds distressed, maybe like she's been crying. You don't blame her. They probably haven't heard anything unless someone on the team contacted them, and you have no idea how bad it looked on TV.

"He's ok, Mrs. H, it's a mild concussion. His symptoms aren't worsening at all, and they said with some rest he'll be significantly better by tomorrow"

Her sigh of relief was unmatched. "He'll be out of play for a couple of weeks, but they just want to make sure he's back to 100% before he's playing again." The elevator finally opens, and you hit the button for the parking garage.

"Thank you so much, Y/n, im glad you're there with him. I know he's in good hands. I'll leave you be love, Jack and luke are super super anxious and would appreciate a call from you. Text me if anything happens."

"I will, Mrs. H, tell Mr. H I say hi"

"I will dear, thanks for taking care of our boy"

"Of course El, he's my boy too," you smile.

You swear you can hear Ellen smile over the phone. "We love you dear, I'll talk to you tomorrow ok. Don't forget to take care of yourself too"

"I will, I love you guys too. I'll text you updates"

"Alright, bye dear."

"Bye," you sigh, pressing the end call button, just as the elevator opens to the parking garage. As you press the button to open the trunk, you call Jack.

"Y/n," he huffs out, not even after a full ring. "How's Quinn? If he ok? What happened?" Before you can answer any of Jacks questions, Luke's voice cuts him off, "is Quinn ok? Are you guys at the hospital? It looked really bad -"

Before their panicked tangents can get worse, you interrupt them both. "Take a breath, you two," you say calmly, breathing exaggeratedly so they can copy you "in and out, relax. Quinn is ok. He's ok"

"He's ok?"

"He's ok" you repeat. You feel the tears start to build, and your voice cracks "He's ok"

"Oh Y/n." Jack says softly.

"It's ok, I'm ok" you say, more to yourself than to Jack as you wipe the tears away. "Hold on, gimme one sec." You say, setting down your phone as you pull Quinn's hockey bag out the car. You close the trunk, make sure the car is locked and head back to the elevator.

"Hi, sorry I'm back. I was just grabbing Quinn's stuff out the car."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Luke asks softly.

"He's got a concussion, and he's a bit bruised up, but other than that he's alright"

"Fuck, how bad is it?" Jack asks, the fear is evident in his voice, and you can't blame him. Concussions can be really bad sometimes.

"They said its a mild concussion, he's not throwing up at all, his memory is ok, he didn't injure his spine or anything, he'll be ok after a few days of rest. He probably wont be playing for a few weeks, but better safe than sorry."

"Oh thank God" both Jack and Luke huffed "isn't he not supposed to sleep for 24 hours after or something?" Luke asks.

You shake your head with a small smile "Thats a myth, Lukey. As long as I check on him every few hours its ok for him to sleep."

"Ohh, ok. Well that's good" Luke says.

"We are glad he has you Y/n, thank you for taking care of our brother."

"Always" you say softly.

"We'll let you go now, keep us updated?"

"I will, Jackie. You two get some rest, you have a big game tomorrow, love you guys"

"We love you too Y/n/n" both boys say, hanging up.

You sigh, leaving his bag at the door. "Y/n?" Quinns weak voice calls out from the bedroom. You rush to him immediately, scared that something is wrong.

"Yes, Quinny, I'm right here" you say kneeling beside the bed, and stroking his hair.

"You took long," he mumbles, pressing his lips against your wrist.

"I'm sorry love, I'm here now," you stand, stripping the hoodie and sweats off and climbing into bed next to him. You stay a little distance away, not wanting to hurt Quinn. But he grumbles at you, tugging on your shirt to get you to come closer. Normally, he would just grab you and pull you closer, but he's still weak.

"I don't wanna hurt you" you mumble, scooting closer so that you are tucked against his side. He tangles your legs together and rests his head against yours.

"Never" he says, pressing his lips to the side of your head. You rest one of your hands on his hip, under his shirt, stroking your thumb over his hip bone.

"How you feeling?" You ask softly.

"Beat" he mumbles "thanks for taking care of me"

"I'll take care of you for as long as you let me love" you say, pressing a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"Forever?"

"Forever."

---

Wc: 3.1k

#qh43 #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #luke hughes #vancover canucks #jack hughes #hockey #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl imagines #love soph

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

hi mae, if its not too much trouble could you do something with james and r where r has to deal with likr a creep on a train or smth. ive just had a real weird experience rn and its just.hm

Ugh I'm so sorry babe, I wish we each had a James with us all the time

cw: man being creepy (no sa or harassment, just gross behavior)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 934 words

You clock the danger long before your boyfriend does, but you suppose it’s a lot more drilled into one of you than the other.

The man gets on a few stops after you do, and his gaze seems aimless until it lands on you. It’s not a busy time; the bus is nearly empty, but of course he goes and stands next to you as if there are no open seats. You should have known better than to sit by the aisle.

James’ chatter fades into the background as your mind starts to whirl with possibilities. What if this man grabs you? What if he tries to keep you from getting off at your stop? What if he waits until you get off, and then follows you home?

“Hey.” James is looking at you quizzically. He reaches for your opposite arm, scrubbing up and down lightly. “You okay?”

You use the touch as an excuse to lean into his side, murmuring so the man can’t hear you. “If that guy’s still here when it’s my stop, will you get off with me? Or I could ride to yours, if that’s better.”

James looks past you, noticing the man for the first time, and you see clarity dawn on his expression as he does the same math you had. You can feel the man’s stare burning into the side of your head; he’s not even being subtle about it. James pulls you closer to his side.

“Hey, mate,” he says, tension underlying his jovial tone. “Do you wanna take a seat? There are plenty open.”

You chance a look over, and the man’s eyes lock with yours like it’s the opportunity he’s been waiting for. You feel James’ arm tense.

“You have pretty hair,” the man says.

You smile tersely. Polite, carefully unfriendly. “Thanks.”

That seems to satisfy him; the man does take a seat. The one directly behind you. Anxiety prickles over your skin at not being able to see him.

You at least feel better now that James is aware, too. He keeps his face turned to you, one eye on the seat behind you, as he picks up your conversation about the film you’ve just seen. Remus and Sirius were the ones who wanted to see it in the cinema; they thought it was artistic and meaningful, whereas you and James are in agreement it was dull and pretentious. Odd, aimless dialogue, experimental camera angles, hardly any plot. James thinks if you can get Sirius away from Remus he’ll agree. Competitive thing that he is, he’s hatching a plan to do so when the man leans forward and pushes his nose into your hair.

The sound of his inhale sends goosebumps racing down every inch of your skin. You go rigid, attempting subtly to lean forward while all the nerves in your body scream at you to run.

“Hey, what the fuck?” James doesn’t take care to lower his voice.

As though you’d been waiting for permission, you jump away, getting as far out of reach as possible before turning around. James’ arm has barred across the back of your seat, his hand gripping the pole on the opposite side and the muscles in his forearm strained with tension.

“What makes you think you can do that to someone?” he asks, equal parts incredulous and irate.

People in the bus have turned to look. The bus slows as you approach the next stop.

“Let’s get off,” you tell James.

“What?” He turns to you for a second before seeming to remember he should be keeping an eye on the man. Who has been silent, but for what he said to you. He looks entertained by James’ outburst, which almost scares you worse than anything that’s happened thus far. You know James is very fit, but you don’t want to get him in a fight. “Why should we get off? We haven’t done anything wrong!”

The doors open, and people start to file off. “James,” you say, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and giving a slight tug. “Please.”

He hesitates a second longer, looking somewhere between bewildered and outraged, before he says, “Fine, okay,” and grabs your bag. You tug him into the aisle, careful to keep both of you out of reach of the man. Once you’re off the bus, you start walking quickly, pulling James along and casting glances over your shoulder to be sure the man from the bus doesn’t follow. It’s only when the bus pulls away and he hasn’t gotten off that you stop.

“Ugh.” You heave a tremendous sigh, hugging James around the middle and dropping your forehead to his chest. “Sorry.”

“That was fucking insane,” he says, cupping the back of your head protectively. “Does that happen to you often?”

You let out a little laugh. “That specifically? No. But I know better than to talk to guys like that.”

“Sorry.” James kisses your hairline. Lets his lips rest there. “I thought it was going to help.”

“It’s not your fault, he was going to be weird either way. I’m really glad you were there.”

He squeezes you tighter. It helps you release the tension from your shoulders, giving in to him. “That was fucking disgusting,” he says. “I’m sorry I’m ever not there.”

You shudder. “Is it weird that I feel like I need to shower?”

“Nope. But do it at mine. I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about that guy finding your place for the next several days.”

“How would he do that, James?”

“Dunno. But just to be safe.”

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kiibichio · 1 year ago

Text

SAY IT ✩ C. STURNIOLO

OVERVIEW ;; last time you and your boyfriend, chris, had sex, his brothers heard you, you two played it off and managed not to get caught. but ever since, you’ve been insecure about your volume.. so you try to hide your noises, but chris fixes that.

CONTAINS ;; dom ! chris, sub ! reader, no use of y/n, begging kink (?), hella praise

mora speaks ;; so i was listening to say it by tory lanez and i thought abt this fic . then it left my mind 😭 THEN i saw an EDIT OF CHRIS to the song and i knew i just had to get this done. SO HERE WE AREE !! ENJOY 🙏🏾 (btw we jump straight into the story so buckle up)

date published ;; 3.20.24

not proofread

——————————————————————————————

4:11 pm

chris slams his lips onto mine while grabbing my hips and positioning me so im straddling him.

“god, baby..” he mumbles onto my mouth, “ive been waiting to do this since you got here..”

i came over to my boyfriend, chris’, house to visit my him and my friends (nick and matt). although they left about 20 minutes after i got here. claiming they were ‘getting food’ but they would probably be a while considering they never come straight back home. chris immediately took his chance and dragged me downstairs to his room eagerly. as soon as he got in he began taking his hoodie off and throwing on the floor, followed by mine. which brings us here.

after a good 5 minutes of making out, chris stops. he realizes he hadn’t gotten a sound out of me at all, which is odd because im usually the most vocal out of us two. this whole time it’s been ‘so good baby’ and ‘i missed you so much’ combined with small whimpers and quiet groans from chris. but none from me.

“hey, you’re real quiet. something wrong, ma? is it me?” he genuinely looks at me.

i sigh. there was something wrong.

“no, no! chris, baby, you did nothing wrong. you’re doing great. it’s just..”

“you can tell me. im here to listen and i won’t judge.” chris reassures me as he rubs my shoulder

“well.. it’s just- ever since that one time last week. you know, when matt and nick heard us?”

he nods, making eye contact with me.

“ive been thinking im too loud and extra… so im trying to change that. i don’t want to be an inconvenience to everyone else.”

which was true because who wants to hear me and chris fuck everytime we do. that’s also embarrassing to deal with. getting weird looks from your friends because of something that you’re were supposed to keep private, but couldn’t because of your volume? crazy.

he stares at me for a moment. did i say something wrong? then he chuckles.

“hey! what are you laughing for? i thought you said you wouldn’t judge.” i huff, pouting my lips and crossing my arms.

he throws his head back and continues to laugh, “baby.. are you serious? matt and nick aren’t even here right now.”

i look away from him, arms still crossed.

“hey. look at me, ma.” chris grabs hold of my chin and moves it, forcing me to make direct eye contact with him, “i do not care if my brothers hear us. i swear. i want everyone to know that you’re mine and im yours. i need to hear you say it. make all the noise you want, baby.”

“are you sure, chris?” i ask hesitantly

“100% positive”

he doesn’t let me respond again and immediately starts kissing me. he moves his hands up and down my body slowly, his left hand going to my ass and the right one moving to unclasps my bra under my shirt. he breaks away and his mouth travels towards my neck and chest area.

“mmh.. chris..” i whine.

“there’s my girl, keep those same pretty noises up for me while im inside of you.” he smirks against my collarbone.

he flips us over as to where im laying down on my back and he’s hovering over me. he starts moving his face downwards, leaving a trail of kisses on my stomach behind him. he hurriedly takes my pants and underwear off with one pull.

“ready, ma?” he breathes against my heat

“mhm..” i whimper

“louder, i can’t hear you.” he says teasingly

“yes, chris, please just touch me” i say, starting to beg, which i know he likes.

“whatever you say, princess.” he gives a sly grin before completely going down on me, eating as if this is his last meal.

“ohhh… fuckkkkk, just like that chris. keep going baby.” i moan loudly

chris smirks against me. hearing my noises is just turning him on even more. this makes him move his mouth faster. he loudly slurps and licks on me, trying to get more noises out of me as he lets his own out himself. my legs start to wriggle and close a bit, trying to get more pleasure. chris takes notice of this and holds them open and still with his left hand, his right being occupied with my clit, which he was toying with at a rapid pace.

“mmh.. taste s’good, baby. s’good.” he moans, face deep in my pussy, moving and hitting all the right places. he starts to quickly motion his tongue in and out of me. hands still on my clit and legs, holding them open.

“mghh.. yes, chris right there!” i yell out as my legs start shaking “b-baby, im about to-”

“do it. cum all over my face ma.” he mumurs

with one final flick of my clit, i burst and my juices start rolling onto chris’s mouth. he happily laps all of it up.

chris lifts himself up to give me a slow, heated kiss, making me taste myself on his tongue.

“you’re so good, princess. lets see if you can be even louder.” he smirks, winking at me.

he pulls his sweatpants down, his boxers following after. he gives himself a few pumps, spreading the precum all over his dick. chris looks up at me.

“ready, baby?” he asks, sweetly, lining himself up with me.

“yes, chris.. please” i whimper

he gives a small, silent chuckle at my begging before pushing himself all the way in me. he gives me a few seconds to adjust before slamming in and out of me.

“ohhh! oh my g-god…” i moan out

“yea, baby. say it. who’s making you feel like this?” he asks, relentlessly pounding into me

“you! fuckkkkk.. you chris. only y-you baby mmm..” i yell

all that’s heard now is the sound of squelching, coming from the spot where me and chris connect, moans, groans, whimpers and whines from the both of us, and skin slapping. a few moments later, he speeds up, now rapidly thrusting against me.

“chris! oh. shit shit shit shit. b-baby im close!” i warn, my legs starting to shake and my body starting to tremble under him.

“c’mon, baby. let it all out on me.” i can tell he’s close to by the way he tightens his grip on my waist and his thrusts get faster and sloppier.

“fill me up, baby. p-please.” i request.

that sentence alone makes him cum right there. and im close behind him, letting out a pornographic moan as i let my liquids out. chris’ thrusts slow down as he lets both of us ride out our high.

he pulls out and falls beside me as we take a few moments to breathe.

“that was great, baby.” he smiles at me, turning on his side so he can look at me.

“yea, you did amazing” i reply, giving him a smile as well

“im gonna go get a towel to clean us up.” he lifts himself up and makes his way to the bathroom. he returns with a damp towel and wipes me down. after that, we both get up to get dressed and make our way back to the living room. we put on a movie and wait for matt and nick to get back.

“ma.” chris looks at me.

“yes, baby?”

“do me a favor and don’t ever hide those pretty sounds from me again.” he says

“you got it baby” i laugh as i pull him and give him a soft kiss.

——————————————————————————————

mora speaks (again) ;; lmk if you guys enjoyed this oneee. i really liked writing because this is my first chris smut ‼️ ALSO MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN SO REQUEST AWAYYY. (might take me some time to do them but i will get to them !!) TOODLES <3

tag list ;; @sturniolos-blog @mayhem-72 @hearts4chris 🍵

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anamina0 · 4 months ago

Text

Echoes

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V , Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII

Final part

Themes/warnings : mentions of death, mentions of blood, kissing , a lot of anger, a lot of unsolved emotions, fluff

Word count: 10.3 k

You stood up, wiping away the tear tracks on your face. They burned. You had rehearsed this conversation for so long, countless times in your head. You had pictured it, imagined what it would feel like, but now that the moment was here, all your plans felt like they were useless. Words just wouldn’t come out, no matter how hard you tried to find them. This conversation… you’d dreaded it, wished for it to never come. But deep down, you knew it couldn’t be avoided. You couldn’t lie to Vi. Not anymore. Not about something this important, even though doing this meant hurting the one person you had promised you’d never betray. But in the end, you had no choice. Vi deserved to know the truth, even if it felt like you were tearing apart everything that you held so close. This wasn’t your decision anymore. But telling her the truth meant tearing down everything you’d built between you—betraying your best friend, the person who meant so much to you. But this truth wasn’t yours to keep, and Faye had made sure of that.

“Shit,” you whispered under your breath, glancing at Vi. She was standing across from you, her confusion only deepening. She had no idea her world was about to change in a heartbeat, just like yours had. You were pacing now, hands shaking, voice unsteady. You couldn’t seem to calm down.

“I have no idea how to say this,” you mumbled. The words felt foreign in your mouth, as if they didn’t belong to you at all. No amount of thinking, no hours of preparation, could make them feel right. Your heart thundered in your chest.

“You’re freaking me out,” Vi said, her voice small, something almost fragile in it. She sank down onto the couch, trying to settle herself, though it was clear she was more anxious with every passing second. “Just tell me, okay? Whatever you’re scared of… it’s easier to just rip the Band-Aid off.”

You winced at her words. It felt as though she was already anticipating bad news. You looked down, blinking rapidly to push back the sting of more tears, trying to steady yourself before you spoke again. Taking a deep breath, you sat down next to her, slowly reaching for her hand.

“Before I say anything, just… know that you are the last person I ever want to hurt. Last person I’d want to betray,” you said quietly. Your hands were trembling as you held hers, desperate to make her understand, even though you knew it wouldn’t make things any easier. “You mean a lot to me. More than I’ve ever told you. I swear.”

Vi’s eyes softened, her gaze tender as she looked at you. There was a brief pause, a hint of something in the way she breathed. It seemed she knew, without you having to say it, that something had gone terribly wrong. She didn’t smile back, but she squeezed your hand, as if to remind you that she was with you, even through whatever this was.

“I know,” she murmured, her voice thick with something unsaid. There was sadness creeping into her voice now. “Just… say it. Please.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her for too long, your heart growing heavy as you tried to find the right words—words that might hurt her but were true, no matter how painful they were.

“Is it about Ellie?” she asked, her voice quieter now, as though she was already guessing where this was headed. “She came back, and I… I know there’s something between you two, still.” Her voice almost cracked as she spoke Ellie’s name. You could feel her worry growing.

The panic in your chest rose. You shook your head quickly, frantic. “No, no,” you blurted out, desperate to stop that train of thought. “It’s not about Ellie. It will never be about her. Me and Ellie—” You paused. “We’re done, Vi.”

You could see the uncertainty shift in her face, like a weight lifted a little, but her concern still hovered between you, as she waited for whatever would come next.

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’m listening.”

“Here it comes,” you whispered, taking in a shaky breath. You still couldn’t bring yourself to look her in the eyes. You had no idea how much more of this you could handle. “Do you remember that name Ellie mentioned? The girl who found my brother?” Your voice cracked just at the thought of it, but you pushed forward.

Vi’s brow furrowed for a moment, her lips pressing tight as she tried to recall the name.

“Kinda,” she said slowly. “There was… something about an F, right? But I can’t really remember it. ”

“Faye,” you replied. You almost didn’t want to say it. Saying her name felt like it would break everything all over again. “Faye… does that name mean anything to you?” You almost couldn’t look at her, but you forced yourself to, to catch the faintest flicker of realization—or maybe something worse—in Vi’s eyes.

She hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly as she thought.

“No,” she said after a moment, the disappointment obvious. “Maybe there was someone with that name in my past? Someone from prison, I don’t know… I don’t think they were important, though. I’d remember.”

“She is my best friend, Vi,” you whispered so softly you were almost afraid she wouldn’t hear you. “Or… she was. I met her few years ago. She was new in town—didn’t know anyone. I was the first person she got close to there.” You paused, holding back another wave of tears.

Vi was still confused, still searching your face for the meaning behind your words. You could see her trying to piece things together, her mind whirring with uncertainty.

“She would tell me all these crazy stories,” you continued, your voice growing more ragged. “Stories about her past, her family… She’d talk about her sister, the things they used to do, their life, everything. At first, I didn’t believe her. She never gave names, or clear details, just crazy stories… But over time, I got used to it .”

“Okay…” Vi said, barely above a whisper, her eyes narrowing, not quite understanding but getting closer.

“She told me to move here, when Ellie left..” you pressed on, your voice growing weaker with every word. “Told me to come to Zaun under one condition.”

Vi’s eyes flickered toward yours. “What condition?”

“That I would never, ever tell anyone about her,” you said, voice barely audible now, the truth crashing down harder than ever before. “I promised her that I would never tell anyone, that no one could know about Faye.” You felt your stomach turn, disgust at yourself filling you as you confessed the truth.

Vi was quiet for a moment, clearly taken aback.

“But you’re telling me. Why?”

You could barely even breathe. Your hands were shaking as you clenched them into fists. It was now or never, and there was no way you could run from it anymore.

“fuck,” you whispered, barely able to find the strength to speak, “I think Faye is your sister, Vi. I think… I think it’s Jinx. Powder. I think she’s still alive. And I think it’s her.”

“What?” she breathed, the word barely a whisper. “My sister is dead. Is that some kind of sick joke?” Her voice cracked. The anger came crashing over her, and you could feel it swirling in the air, suffocating you both.

"No Vi,” you began, your own voice a mere rasp now, thick with emotion. “I had no clue when I met you. But when you started telling me stories about your sister, about your past… It sounded so much like the things Faye had told me. It was identical, Vi. The same, same way she used to talk about her sister. That’s when I started thinking… Maybe. Maybe it’s her. So I had to find out. I went to Savika.”

Vi stared at you, and that rage started to rise—her hands trembling at her sides, chest heaving.

“And you went to Savika… you went behind my back?” she snapped, her voice rising, disbelief and fury pouring from her. “Why didn’t you come to me, huh? Why not me?”

“I couldn’t,” you gasped, trying to explain the confusion inside of you.

“I couldn’t! I promised Faye I wouldn’t say anything! I didn’t want to doubt her… but I had to make sure. I had to know the truth, Vi. I never meant for any of this to happen, but she’s alive—alive, Vi—out there, somewhere, living a completely different life!”

“You went behind my back to do your little investigation,to Savika?!” The words slipped like a dagger between you, shattering whatever tenuous hold you had over the situation. “I thought you trusted me,. Why couldn’t you trust me with the truth?”

You couldn’t speak. The sting of her words hit you harder than anything. She was breaking apart before you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Vi stood now, hands clenched into fists at her sides, her breath shallow, furious, betrayed.

“Just go.” Her voice was a broken whisper of fury. “Please… just go.”

Every step you took toward the door felt like it would be the last. You had no words. No way to fix this. The silence between you was heavier than any words ever could be. All you heard as you walked away was the faint sound of your own heart breaking. You didn’t want to leave. But Vi’s words hit you like a wave, cold and sharp, crashing through everything you’d known between the two of you. She didn’t want you here. Not now. Not anymore.Every step you took toward the door felt like it tore a little bit more from you, from what you’d shared. The silence between you wasn’t just heavy—it was suffocating. It was the kind of silence that pushed you to the edge, forced you to confront the reality that everything you’d thought would bring you closer had pulled you apart. Vi didn’t look at you anymore. She just stared at the floor, arms folded across herself, trying to shield the pain you knew was there but couldn’t reach. You hesitated for a moment, one foot out the door, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave completely. Not yet. Not when everything in you wanted to fix this. But the words—the anger, the disbelief in her eyes—they weighed on you, tied you down like a rope around your chest.

“Vi…” Your voice was small, trembling. You took one step back. “Vi, please… Talk to me. I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” she snapped, her voice harsh, cutting you off before you could finish. She wasn’t looking at you now; her gaze was focused somewhere past you, her jaw tight as if to keep herself from breaking. But you knew she was already shattered. Her whole world had crumbled, and you were standing at the edge of it, useless, helpless. She was so far from you now, farther than you’d ever been before, and it was all your fault.

“I can’t do this, ” she whispered, the rawness in her voice clawing at your heart. The hurt was palpable, burning. “I can’t… I can’t look at you right now. I can’t be here with you after what you’ve done. After what you’ve kept from me.”

You nodded numbly, still unable to look away from her.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, but the words felt hollow, barely enough to express everything you needed to say. But even now, standing on the threshold of what used to be your shared space, you knew it wouldn’t change anything. “I never meant for any of this, Vi. I just—I had to know the truth.”

“And now you’ve destroyed everything.” Her words, though quiet, stung worse than any sharp retort. “Everything I thought I could trust. Everything we had… it’s gone now. And I can’t—” She shook her head, cutting herself off again, her hands trembling in fists by her sides.

Tears welled up in your eyes, a bitter, salty wave threatening to break, but you refused to let them spill. You were the one who had broken everything, who had chosen to stay silent when you should’ve spoken the truth from the start. And now you had nothing left. No words. No promises. Only the reality that Vi’s anger, her betrayal—was something you had earned. You had to leave. You could feel it in your bones. But how could you? How could you leave like this?

“Vi…” Your voice was breaking now, a sob threatening to tear free.

She was silent for a long time, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you thought maybe—maybe she would look at you again, listen, understand that you never wanted this. That you never wanted to hurt her. But she didn’t. Her eyes stayed fixed forward, her breath coming shallowly, the emptiness between you expanding with every second.

“I can’t do this,” she said again, voice small, and yet somehow it was final. As if saying your name, one more time, would be all it took to leave the pieces of you both scattered, beyond repair. “Just go. Please. Go.”

A thousand things rushed through you then, but none of them mattered anymore. With her words, she had sealed it—this was the end. You couldn’t fix it, couldn’t undo it. She was shutting you out. You turned, your hand on the doorknob heavy as it grasped it, shaking just like the rest of you. There was a tightness in your chest, something aching, something worse than regret, as you looked over your shoulder once more. There she was—Vi, the woman you loved, and yet she felt so distant now. So unreachable. So far.

And then, quietly, softly—hopelessly—you left. With no one to look back to, no chance at redemption, only the bitter taste of your own mistakes lingering in the air behind you.

What were you supposed to do now? You couldn’t even bring yourself to think clearly. The silence of Vi’s apartment still haunted you, the echo of your conversation echoing in the space. It felt like your soul had been torn open, leaving nothing but raw, aching void inside you. You knew it wouldn’t end well, you always knew. The heavy realization sat like a stone in your chest. What could you do when the weight of it all was too much to bear? You headed up the stairs, your heart racing, mind buzzing with confusion.Stopping in front of your apartment, your stomach twisted as you remembered Ellie. It just felt like one more mess to clean up. You didn’t have the strength to face her either, not after what just happened. You didn’t want to face anyone, but you had nowhere else to go.

“I’ll just go in, go to my room, lock the door,” you murmured to yourself, grasping for anything that would give you some control over this chaos. But deep down, you knew there was no escaping from what was left of you after Vi.

You opened the door to find Ellie on your couch, her head slightly tilted as she sat up to face you. Her voice was soft, almost cautious.

“I didn’t expect you so soon,” she remarked, as if she already knew the weight in the air.

You didn’t reply, instead heading straight for your bedroom. With a quiet click, you closed the door, shutting the world out. And when you lay down, it felt like the weight of the universe pressed down on you. You weren’t okay—far from it. You were furious. At everything. At Ellie. At Vi. At Faye. At your brother. But mostly, at yourself. How had you let it go this far? You had known all along, hadn’t you? You let yourself fall for her, and no matter what you did, you’d be left alone, heartsick again, picking up the pieces of another broken story. Everyone you ever loved disappeared. They died - like your mother and sister, they left- like Ellie and your brother, or—like with Vi—you were the one who destroyed it. You had no idea how long you laid there before the gentle knocking brought you back to the world around you.

“Hey…” Ellie’s voice called quietly through the door. She paused, unsure of how to proceed. “I know I’m the last person you want to talk to, but… I’m here, you know.”

You didn’t move at first. You were too deep in your own misery to acknowledge her words. But you couldn’t let her see you like this, not with the fragile walls you had left. Not when the feelings swelled and pushed against every broken part of you.

“I’m fine, Ellie. Just go away,” you called back, but you knew she could hear the lie in your voice.

A few seconds of silence passed before the door creaked open, and there she was, standing just inside, the vulnerability radiating from her, soft and unsure.

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated more forcefully. You turned away from her, angry with yourself for even allowing her in. " I don't need your pity"

Ellie didn’t leave. Instead, you felt her sit next to you, her hand lightly resting against your back. You almost recoiled from the touch, but some broken, fragile part of you clung to it.

“I have no clue what happened there,” she started softly, “With her…” Her voice faltered before continuing. “But I know you. I know you wouldn’t come back here if something bad didn’t happen. And I…”

“And you think you’re the one who will fix this?” you snapped, finally turning to face her. You wiped at your tear-streaked face and let anger fill the space instead of grief. “Of all people… you.”

She didn’t flinch, just met your eyes with understanding.

“No,” she said, almost too quietly. “I don’t deserve to be here. But you… should work things out with her.” Ellie managed a soft, almost cynical laugh. “God, I can’t believe I’m saying this…” She sighed. “I’m so sorry. You should know, no matter what happened between you two, you’re not the one who should be let go of. There’s no one on Earth more deserving of love than you.”

You froze. Those words hit differently than anything you expected from her. This wasn’t the same Ellie who abandoned you. But what difference did it make now?

“Why are you telling me this?” you whispered, voice trembling like a secret you didn’t want to admit.

Her gaze softened, the truth pouring out of her in hesitant whispers. “Because I wouldn’t forgive myself otherwise. I’ve spent all this time trying to forget you, trying to justify everything, but all I learned was that I should never have let you go.” She swallowed hard before continuing. “You were the best thing in my life. I should’ve never left… but I did, and now… now, I see the same thing happening with her.”

“You know,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath, “just a few months ago, I would’ve given anything to hear those words from you.” You couldn’t meet her eyes as you spoke—your gaze drifting to the floor, to the empty space between you both that felt impossible to close. “Despite all the anger, all the hatred, all the sadness I’ve felt because of you, I would’ve given anything, Ellie…anything to have you back in my life. But I thought you’d never come. I thought I ruined it, I thought I did something wrong, that you stopped loving me.” The words spilled from you, rough and jagged, like secrets whispered in the dark that shouldn’t see the light of day.

Ellie’s breath caught. Her hands were trembling just enough for you to feel the electric pull between you. She leaned in, close enough that you could feel presence so dangerously close, like she might kiss you right then and there, as if the words weren’t enough. She wanted you, craved it—the warmth of your skin, the softness of your touch, the kiss that she once gave with ease, now something so desperate in her eyes.

“But…” she breathed softly, barely able to pull back, searching your face like she didn’t understand the barrier between you. She needed you to finish it, to say something that would bring her closer, something that might bridge the gap of time and hurt.

“But what?” She sounded wrecked, breathless from whatever she could still feel between you.

“But it’s too late now,” you breathed back, pulling away. To give in, to fall into the familiar ache that was both torture and pleasure in her touch. But you couldn’t—not anymore. Not when Vi haunted you and your heart felt torn to shreds by what used to be.

Ellie laughed bitterly, trying to mask the sting, but you could feel her pain as sharp as your own.

“Because of that punk, huh?” She smirked, trying to joke, but it hurt her, just like it hurt you. You could tell.

You swallowed. Her attempt at humor didn’t hide what she was really feeling: jealousy, regret, loss.

“Yes. Because of Vi,” you said slowly, the words cutting like glass in your throat. Saying her name hurt more than you imagined it would, more than you allowed yourself to admit. “But I think we’re quite alike, Ellie,” you added, your voice thick with a truth you could no longer deny.

Ellie raised an eyebrow, confused, wanting to know what was coming. “In what?” she asked quietly, as if this conversation were opening old wounds that she hadn’t wanted to open.

“I just ruined everything,” you whispered, and the confession tore through your chest like a storm you couldn’t stop. “Just like you ruined everything with us. We both destroyed what we had, and now it’s…gone.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to reply. But there it was: the truth of it all. Your fractured past bleeding into this moment, and she was watching you unravel before her. It wasn’t what she expected, but somehow, it was real.

“What happened?” Ellie asked after a long, painful pause. Her voice was shaky, not like the confident, cocky girl you knew, but like someone grasping for understanding.

You took a long, trembling breath and dropped your head into your hands, pushing against the painful weight in your chest. Every inch of you ached. Your legs longed for something solid, something to keep you from falling apart completely. You invited her to sit beside you without thinking, your walls finally crumbling just enough to let her back in. Despite everything, despite how badly she’d broken you, you needed someone tonight. And the only person left in the ruins was Ellie. She sat beside you, quiet, her warmth almost suffocating in the still air. But it wasn’t the warmth that mattered now, it was the fact that she was there, and somehow, you needed it. The night stretched on as the words flowed between you, uncaring of the time. You told her everything—about Vi, about Faye. You talked about your brother still being alive, how he was caught up in this mess. You didn’t spare any detail, letting the painful truths tumble out of your mouth like they were the only thing left. It felt good. Good to tell someone, even if it was the wrong someone, even if it didn’t change anything. Somewhere in the middle of all that, the hate that had lived inside you for so long started to dissolve. It wasn’t gone—nothing like that—but the weight had been lifted, even just a little. The hours passed, her soft footsteps occasionally disturbing the quiet, waking you from the momentary respite you’d found in conversation. And then it hit you, a feeling so sharp you nearly choked on it. She wasn’t staying. Ellie was leaving. Again.

“I think I’m having déjà vu,” you said, the sarcastic chuckle falling from your lips with an edge of bitterness. You walked out of the room, letting the reality sink in, leaning against the wall. And for the first time tonight, you finally looked at her like she was a stranger, not someone who mattered to you at all.

“I’m sorry,” Ellie said softly, her voice flat, no trace of her usual strength. She was packing her things, her hands shaking slightly as she folded the straps of her bag together, organizing it like she was setting her life down for the last time. “I was going to say goodbye, but you had a rough night. I didn’t want to wake you yet.”

You leaned against the doorframe, numb, trying to laugh through it.

“Well, at least this time I knew you were leaving.” You wished you could feel something, anything, other than the painful ache of this goodbye you were forced to live with.

But Ellie didn’t laugh. She didn’t even look at you. She was busy throwing her backpack over her shoulder, coming closer with each small step. The space between you felt like an eternity, like it had always been too much. Too many walls.

“Just before I go…” she started quietly, and her hands were nervously twisting together like she was grasping for the right words. But this wasn’t the same confident girl that once was so sure. She faltered now. “I want you to know… I meant every word I said yesterday.”

You didn’t react, didn’t move, barely blinked. She stared at you, her gaze holding more than you could handle in that moment. You stayed still, terrified to respond, not knowing if it was your heart breaking again or just exhaustion pulling at the edges of your resolve.

“I love you,” Ellie whispered, and those words burned into your skin. There was regret in her voice, sorrow in the way she lingered there, unsure of what she could fix, of what was even worth trying anymore. “And I’m sorry for what I did.”

She moved toward you then, slow and hesitant, but the air between you crackled, pulsing, as if neither of you could quite control it anymore. And before you could even realize , her lips met yours, everything fell away. Her kiss hit like a memory you hadn’t asked for, an ache you hadn’t wanted to feel. Her hands gripped your waist, but you pushed her away. You couldn’t, you didn't want to do that.

“Don’t do that, Ellie,” you whispered, breath shallow. The kiss tasted like regret, like fire, like the love that would have destroyed you all over again.

“Fuck,” she whispered, stepping back but not letting you go. “Come with me. We can start fresh. Just you and me, we’ll start over.” She pulled you close again, her voice thick with emotion, wanting to change everything. But it was too late for that.

“Ellie…” you whispered, pain thickening your voice, too raw to speak through. One tear slid down your cheek, though it wasn’t your crying this time. It was hers. “It’s too late now,” you murmured, feeling your forehead rest gently against hers. There was something so sweetly tragic about this final moment. The tears you were both holding back spilled over, falling from your face as they mixed together.

“I’m afraid this is goodbye,” you said softly, the words breaking your heart.

Ellie just stared at you, her gaze clouded with emotion. It was like she was waiting for a future that no longer belonged to either of you. She moved back slightly, but her lips still brushed against your wet cheek.

“I’ll be waiting,” she whispered softly, like a promise she couldn’t make but still couldn’t take back.

As if you’d turn around and walk out with her.

“I’m not saying goodbye this time,” she added. She wiped another tear from your cheek, her eyes desperate.

But before you could respond, she was gone.

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

It had been months, yet there was no sign of Vi. Every day since your last conversation with her, you had made your way to her apartment door. You knocked until your knuckles were sore, called her name until your voice broke, but the silence on the other side never changed. The truth didn’t hit you all at once. It came in waves, slow and cruel, when one day, a stranger opened that door instead. You stood frozen, staring at this new neighbor as they cheerfully introduced themselves, completely unaware of the storm inside you. Vi was gone. She’d moved out without a word. The world seemed to shift beneath your feet as you left, muttering something polite to the stranger while the realization pressed heavily on your chest. She wasn’t coming back. But that didn’t stop you—not entirely. Desperation kept you chasing shadows. Anytime you saw someone who looked like they might have known her, you found yourself asking, clinging to the faintest chance that someone had seen her.

“Vi?” you’d ask, voice breaking more with each time.

The answers were always the same. No. No one had seen her. It was as though she’d vanished completely, leaving nothing but the ghost of her behind. And even as months stretched on, she lingered in everything—her scent, her voice, her touch, all burned into your soul. There wasn’t a moment of any day when she didn’t consume you. When you weren’t aching for her. The longing was unbearable, gnawing at the edges of your sanity. You couldn’t escape her, no matter how much it hurt to think about what you’d lost. How you had ruined everything. You were still angry—angry at the world, at her, but mostly at yourself. How could you have let her in only to destroy what you had? It replayed in your mind like a cruel film reel—the look on her face, the way she broke apart. You hurt her so deeply, so fully, that she had to disappear to get away from it. The weight of it crushed you more with each passing day. You had done the exact same thing Ellie did to you. You left her no choice but to run. You couldn’t stop the spiraling questions that followed you everywhere. What if she went to find Jinx? What if something happened to her along the way? What if she was hurt, lost, somewhere she couldn’t make her way back from? And then, more hauntingly—what if she went to Piltover? What if she’s with Caitlyn now? What if she’s found peace, and you’re just a memory she’s glad to forget? Those thoughts made your chest tighten like a vice, but none of the answers—no scenarios you dreamed up—could ever fill the void she’d left. That emptiness was too vast, too overwhelming. It swallowed you whole, threatening to consume every part of you that wasn’t already drowning in guilt and longing. She has become your safety, your chaos. You tried to lose yourself in work, in sleepless nights, in meaningless tasks, but none of it mattered. Every thought came back to Vi. Every single one. And in her absence, the world felt quieter and crueler than ever before. Not even the memory of Ellie could distract you now. She was nothing more than a flicker in the background of your mind. Your brother, once the source of so much confusion and hope, faded into insignificance. Everything else paled when compared to her.

It all came back to Vi.

Always her.

And without her, you didn’t know how to keep going.

“You can’t interrogate every customer that walks in here, you know that, right?” Revek’s worried voice snapped you back to reality. His tone wasn’t scolding, just heavy with concern, like a parent watching their child teeter on a ledge.

“Huh?” you mumbled, forcing yourself out of your daze as you caught him leaning against the bar, arms crossed, his gaze sharp.

“I’m serious, kid,” he repeated. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent as you busied yourself pouring a drink for the latest customer.

Revek wasn’t buying it. “You know exactly what I mean,” he pressed, his voice softer now. “You keep asking about her. Every damn day.” He paused, watching your face carefully, as if waiting for you to argue. When you didn’t, he leaned closer. “I know you want to find her. But it’s starting to feel like she doesn’t want to be found. Not by you, anyway.” His words cut deeper than you’d expected, like salt in an open wound. You froze, the glass you’d been holding forgotten in your hand.

“You have to accept that, kid,” he continued, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s not good for you to keep doing this. You’re tearing yourself apart.”

You set the glass down a little harder than you meant to, avoiding his gaze.

“Easier said than done, Rev,” you muttered under your breath.

“You managed to move on last time,” he added carefully, though the words felt like a slap to your face.

Your head snapped up, glaring at him with a flash of anger. His face didn’t flinch. He wasn’t trying to hurt you; he was just being honest. You sighed, your expression softening. Revek didn’t deserve your frustration—he was one of the few people who actually cared.

“I won’t ask anyone about Vi,” you mumbled finally, though the bitterness in your voice was obvious. “At least not anyone here.”

Revek gave a quiet chuckle, patting your shoulder as he straightened up.

“You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, kid. Stubborn and reckless.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, waving him off as he walked toward the back door.

Your shift ended quicker than you expected. For weeks you’d begged to take on extra hours—to open and close the bar—just to keep yourself busy, keep your mind too occupied to spiral. As the last of the patrons left, you cleaned up in silence, stacking glasses, wiping down counters, anything to avoid being alone with your thoughts. When everything was spotless, you slipped on your jacket, keys jingling in your hand as you locked the doors behind you. The cold hit you immediately, biting at your face and seeping through your clothes. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you tucked the keys into your pocket and started walking toward your apartment. Zaun was eerily quiet tonight. Too quiet. Usually, the air hummed with distant shouts, the rumble of machines, or drunken laughter in the distance. But not now. The stillness prickled at your nerves. The farther you walked, the heavier the silence became, your boots echoing softly against the damp pavement. You glanced over your shoulder, certain for the third time that you weren’t alone. The streets were nearly empty, but unease wrapped itself around you, squeezing your chest.

“Get a grip,” you muttered, shaking your head.

But as you reached a darker stretch of road, the feeling grew worse. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow move. Your stomach clenched. The shadow wasn’t yours. You quickened your pace, ears straining for the sound of footsteps behind you. Your breathing was faster now, your heart hammering. Something wasn’t right.

Then it happened.

A dark figure darted out from a nearby alley, and before you could react, a heavy force slammed into you from behind. You stumbled forward, gasping, your vision spinning. Something hard struck the back of your head, and the world lurched violently before slipping into darkness.The last thing you remembered was the cold pavement against your cheek and the faint, muffled sound of footsteps retreating into the night.

A sharp, pulsing headache pulled you out of unconsciousness. Your entire body felt heavy, and your head throbbed like a drum. Everything seemed hazy, like the moments before waking from a nightmare. For a split second, you didn’t remember how you got here. But then the taste of blood in your mouth brought clarity crashing down—cold pavement, a shadow, the sharp blow to your head.Panic surged as you opened your eyes, only to see nothing but suffocating darkness. Something was covering your head. You tried moving, but your wrists were bound tight behind your back, the coarse ropes digging into your skin. Wiggling, twisting—you struggled with everything in you, but it was no use. Your breathing grew rapid, panic clawing at your chest, when a voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“Look who decided to finally wake up,” a familiar, raspy voice teased from somewhere near you. Her tone was laced with mockery and amusement. “My dearest best friend,” she added with a dark chuckle, like it was all some joke.

Your blood ran cold. You didn’t need to see her to know. The venom in her voice was enough to tell you exactly who it was. Faye. No. Jinx. Powder. The fabric covering your head was ripped off, and light stung your eyes. You blinked rapidly, adjusting as her figure came into focus. She stood before you, cocky as ever, her pink eyes shimmering with mischief and something darker beneath. Danger radiated from her every move.

“YOU.” Your voice was dripping with anger. You glared up at her, your head pounding harder with every heartbeat. “Are you insane?”

Jinx tilted her head, unbothered by your outrage, and shrugged casually. “I’m not insane,” she said, her voice light and matter-of-fact, as though kidnapping you was the most rational thing in the world. “I’m just a bit… frustrated.” Her grin spread wide as she stepped closer, towering over you, every movement of hers a deliberate provocation.

“And this is how you deal with frustration?” you spat, wriggling in your restraints again. “By kidnapping me? Seriously?”

“Sheesh, calm down,” she giggled, rolling her eyes like you were the one being unreasonable. “Nobody’s kidnapping you, look around, you're in your apartment .”

“Oh, really?” You scoffed. “So tying me up and dragging me to… what are you doing Faye?”

Her grin faded into something colder. Her expression shifted, her anger bubbling to the surface as she leaned in closer.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she snapped. Her pink eyes burned into yours. Her jaw tensed, and she leaned closer

“ don’t play stupid with me. You knew she was my sister, and yet—” She stopped herself, the words strangled in her throat, then straightened up.

“No, you know what? Call me by my real name. The one you pretended not to know until it suited you.” She knew. Of course, she knew. Vi must’ve found her—and now Jinx was here, to confront you, to rip you apart for betraying her.

“Listen, Faye—” you began.

“Jinx!” she snarled, her voice sharper now, her pink eyes flashing.

You hesitated, swallowing the bitter taste in your mouth. “…Powder.”

The name hit her like a slap. You saw the flash of vulnerability in her eyes before rage swept it away again. She scowled.

“It’s Jinx!” she barked, stepping even closer, her hands clenched into fists.

“I’m sorry for what happened. Truly, I am,” you said quickly, your voice trembling, but genuine. You didn’t look away from her burning gaze. “I never wanted to hurt you—never even imagined I’d be in this position. But I didn’t know she was your sister. I didn’t know what to do. I had to tell her.”

Her steps faltered for a moment. She wasn’t saying anything, but you could feel her weighing your words. You kept going, even though your voice was shaking.

“I couldn’t keep that from her. How could I? Knowing how much she cared about you… knowing how long she believed you were dead. I couldn’t just sit there and lie to her.” A tear rolled down your cheek, unbidden.

“It wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair to anyone.”

She stared at you with an unreadable expression as she paced slowly, her eyes darting back and forth like she was reliving old memories. She was a storm barely held together—a mixture of pain, rage, and something else. The silence felt like it stretched on forever.

“You promised me,” she said finally, breaking the quiet, her voice cracking under the weight of her anger and hurt.

“I know,” you said softly. “I did, and I broke that promise. I’m sorry. But I hope you can understand. Just like I understood when you tracked down my brother and told me the truth…”

“That’s different!” she yelled suddenly, spinning on you, her movements quick and frantic. She was all fire now, heat pouring off her in waves.

“Is it?” you challenged quietly. “Untie me. We should talk about this. No more yelling. No more games.”

She crouched down in front of you, her pink eyes meeting yours as if searching for something—truth, maybe, or some kind of betrayal hidden in the depths of your expression. Her gaze lingered on the wet trail your tears had left down your cheek.

“You love her,” she murmured, the statement cutting through the tension like a dagger. Her voice was quiet, almost bitter, and her fingers flexed at her sides.

“You’re… in love with my sister.”

The tension in the air was thick as you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You needed to calm Jinx down somehow, but the way her eyes were narrowing and her jaw was set told you this wasn’t going to be easy. And honestly? You didn’t blame her for being angry—she had every right to be.

“Listen,” you started cautiously, voice soft yet firm, “Jinx… I know it wasn’t my place to tell Vi about you. You don’t know how many sleepless nights I spent trying to talk myself out of it, trying to just stay away from all of this… from her. But I couldn’t. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You had no right to tell her!” Jinx snapped, her voice a mix of fury and something else—hurt.

“I know, and I’m sorry!” you murmured, your shoulders sagging as guilt wrapped around you like chains. “I swear, I didn’t want it to happen like that. But I had no other option.”

Jinx glared at you before she started pacing the small apartment, her movements quick and jerky. Her eyes flitted across the room, taking in everything with that restless energy she always carried.

“This apartment screams you, you know that?” she grumbled, her tone dripping with judgment as her gaze landed on your record player and the knickknacks scattered on the shelves. “All those stupid decorations. These records—do people even listen to records anymore?”

“Thanks?” you muttered dryly.

She waved you off like she hadn’t even heard you, though the corner of her lip twitched.

“So, what’s the deal now? You’ve clearly lost your mind over my sister. You two together or something? Is it all dramatic stares and tragic poetry?”

You blinked, her sudden shift catching you off guard. But something wasn’t adding up. If Vi had told Jinx where you lived, surely, she would’ve also mentioned that the two of you hadn’t seen each other in months. Unless…

“What are you talking about?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. “Vi and I haven’t seen each other in months. Wait… she didn’t tell you that?”

Jinx stopped pacing, spinning on her heel to face you, her lips curling into a sharp, mocking laugh. “Tell me what? I haven’t seen Vi in years, genius. Remember? She thought I was dead the entire time.”

Your stomach dropped as the realization hit you. “Wait. If you haven’t seen her, then who told you about me and Vi?” Your voice came out quieter than you expected, almost like you didn’t want the answer.

Jinx grinned, her eyes lighting up with a chaotic glee that made you instantly suspicious.

“Your grumpy ex told me, duh,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Ellie’s kind of my favorite now. Oh, and you clearly have a type.”

You stayed silent, not because you didn’t have anything to say, but because the weight of what Ellie had done for you was settling in your chest, heavy and unshakable. You understood now why she’d told Jinx about you and Vi, why she’d stirred a pot that wasn’t hers to touch. Ellie had always had this knack for doing what she thought was best for you, even if it meant tearing herself apart in the process. This wasn’t any different. Ellie loved you—she always had. It wasn’t the loud kind of love, the kind that demanded attention or screamed to be heard. It was quieter, deeper, a part of her she kept tucked away like an old scar. You knew it must’ve hurt her, the kind of pain that lingered and clawed at her, but she still ripped the bandage off for you. She didn’t want you stuck in limbo, hanging on to unresolved feelings or an unfinished story. No, Ellie had always been the one who pushed you toward the truth, no matter how ugly or painful it might be.She didn’t tell Jinx out of spite or jealousy. That wasn’t Ellie’s style. She’d done it for you. She wanted Jinx to understand who you were to Vi, to push Jinx into making peace with her sister so that you—both of you—could finally move forward. Ellie knew she couldn’t be the one to make you happy anymore, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want you to be happy. Maybe that was her way of letting go, or maybe it was her way of saying she still cared, even if you couldn’t love her back the same way. Either way, it was one last act of love—a selfless, bittersweet gesture that left her holding onto nothing but her own heartbreak. Jinx, oblivious to the growing storm of thoughts in your head, raised an eyebrow at your silence.

“What? Nothing to say? Bet you’re wondering if Ellie’s still into you.”

You didn’t respond, knowing she was trying to bait you.

Jinx grinned wider. “Honestly, if my sister doesn’t get her act together and show up, maybe you should go back to plan A. Ellie’s clearly still head over heels, right? Wait… did something happen between you two when she came back?”

“What? No!” you exclaimed, louder than intended. “Nothing happened!”

Jinx squinted, clearly unconvinced. “You’re sure? Because your face is saying otherwise.”

“Look, she appeared out of nowhere, okay? She dropped some bombshells about my brother—who you apparently found, by the way—and then kissed me. That’s it.”

“Ohhhh, I knew something would’ve happened!” Jinx shouted gleefully. “Was it dramatic? Did she sweep you off your feet or—”

“Nothing happened,” you cut in firmly. “I pushed her away, for the record. But yeah, the damage was already done.”

Jinx folded her arms and gave you a slow once-over, a smirk tugging at her lips. “What’s up with you falling for every emotionally unavailable—”

“Shut up.” You shot her a glare. “And untie me, seriously. This isn’t funny anymore. We have a lot to talk about… starting with my brother.” Your tone shifted, growing heavier, the humor replaced with determination. You weren’t going to let her dodge this conversation. Not this time.

" we will talk " she stood up , heading towards you "but not yet " before you could gather what was going on, she hit your head . Once again. And before you knew , you were unconscious.

Your head throbbed as the loud banging on your apartment door dragged you out of the black void. You opened your eyes, struggling to focus on your surroundings. The room was dark, faint streaks of light from outside barely illuminating the scattered chaos of the apartment. You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts, but the pounding in your head was overwhelming. You shifted slightly, groaning as a sharp pain shot through your skull. At least you weren’t tied up anymore. The banging on the door didn’t stop. Each hit felt like a hammer to your already throbbing head. You tried to speak, to call out, but your voice didn’t come. Instead, you groaned again, rolling onto your back and clutching at the pain radiating from your temple. The noise stopped abruptly, and silence settled, except for your shallow breathing. Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. A deafening crash suddenly shattered the silence.

The door. Someone broke in.

"Shit,” a voice cursed, panicked and familiar. You tried to turn your head toward the sound, but you couldn’t make out much beyond a tall silhouette moving quickly in your direction.

“Fuck,” they muttered again, and then they were kneeling beside you, their hands hesitating before reaching for you. “Hey, hey… are you okay? Talk to me.”

At first, you thought the voice was in your head, some cruel trick your brain was playing after everything Jinx had put you through. But then you felt her touch—warm, real, grounding. Your heart stuttered as recognition dawned. It wasn’t a hallucination. She was here.

“Vi?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, more breath than sound.

“Oh, thank god,” she exhaled, her relief palpable as she pulled you into her arms. “You’re alive. I thought…” Her voice cracked, and the raw emotion in her words made your throat tighten. Her touch, her voice, even the faint scent of her—it was all just as you remembered, painfully familiar and impossible to ignore. You sank into her embrace, your tears spilling before you could stop them.

“Vi.” Her name was shaky on your lips as you held her tighter, burying your face against her neck. Her warmth radiated through you, chasing away the fear that had settled in your chest.

“I’m here,” she whispered, her grip on you firm, as if she thought you might disappear if she let go. “I’m here.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to see her face in the dim light.

“You’re really here,” you whispered, your tears blurring your vision as you brushed your fingers over her arm, just to reassure yourself she wasn’t a dream.

“I am.” Her eyes searched yours, full of something you couldn’t quite place—relief, fear, anger, all jumbled together.

“What happened?” she asked urgently. “Are you okay? I thought… I thought something happened to you. Someone told me you were in danger, and I just… I ran. I didn’t think, I—”

“Jinx,” you murmured, cutting her off. “She paid me a visit.” You managed a weak chuckle despite yourself.

Vi’s jaw tightened, her hands trembling slightly against you.

“I knew this was one of her games,” she spat. “She sent someone to tell me you were in danger. God, I thought… I thought you were…” She trailed off, her words caught in her throat.

“I’m okay,” you reassured her softly, brushing your fingers over her hand. “I’m okay. Just… help me sit up.”

Before you could finish, she scooped you into her arms like you weighed nothing, carrying you to the couch. Her strength was effortless, her touch so gentle it nearly broke you. She switched on the lamp, and for the first time, you saw her fully. Her mesmerizing blue eyes, glowing with an intensity that felt like it could pull you under. Her tattoos, stark against her skin. Her pink hair, vibrant and wild. She looked… perfect. Breathtaking. Just as you remembered, if not better.

“You’re bleeding,” she said softly, her fingers

grazing the wound on your temple. You winced but tried to wave it off when you saw the panic flare in her eyes.

“Seriously, I’m fine, Vi,” you assured her, offering a small smile. “Your sister, though? Completely insane.”

Vi exhaled sharply, nodding. “Yeah, tell me about it. This isn’t even the first time she’s kidnapped someone I…” Her words faltered, her face suddenly pale as she realized what she was about to say.

Someone I love. The words hung between you like a spark, threatening to ignite everything. You stared at her, your heart pounding in your chest as the realization hit. It was always there, always simmering beneath the surface, but hearing it—almost hearing it—made everything click into place. Every sleepless night, every time you’d thought about her, craved her, longed for her, it all made sense.

“Where is she now?” Vi asked quickly, clearly trying to recover, but you weren’t letting this moment slip away.

“I have no idea,” you mumbled, but you weren’t even thinking about Jinx anymore. Your entire focus was on Vi—her eyes locked on yours, the vulnerability written across her face. She was intimidating, raw, beautiful, and you couldn’t stand it anymore. You didn’t even realize you’d moved until your lips met hers. The kiss was sudden, rough and desperate, like both of you were trying to fill the void the other had left. It was messy, teeth clashing, lips bruising. But as the seconds stretched into eternity, the kiss softened, your desperation bleeding into something tender, something raw. Her hands trembled slightly as they cradled your face, pulling you closer as if she were terrified you’d slip away. The taste of her lips, the feel of her warmth, sent waves of longing surging through you, but what lingered most was the overwhelming relief. Vi was here. She was real. You pulled back just slightly, your breaths mingling, foreheads pressed together.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered between kisses, your voice breaking as you rested your forehead against hers. Tears rolled down your cheeks again, but this time they were tears of release, of relief. “For everything. For hiding the truth about Jinx, for hurting you.”

Her breath mingled with yours as she smiled softly, her own tears catching the faint light. “I know,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. She brushed her nose against yours, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips again. “I’m sorry too. For leaving. For being gone.”

Her honesty made your chest ache. “I didn’t think I deserved you,” you admitted quietly.

Vi brushed her fingers over your cheek, her eyes soft but filled with determination.

“At first, I was so angry,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Angry at Jinx for making me think she was dead, and angry at you for keeping it from me. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I did the only thing I’m good at—I ran. But the longer I was gone, the more I realized…” She paused, her thumb brushing away a stray tear on your cheek.

“I thought I was going to lose you. And I realized I couldn’t survive that. Not again. Not when… not when I love you.”

Her voice cracked on those last words, raw and vulnerable, as though saying them aloud made her break. She buried her face in your neck, pulling you close like she needed to fuse herself to you, like you were the only thing keeping her together.

“Vi…” Your voice trembled as you pulled her closer, your hands gripping onto her desperately, like letting go of her would mean losing the ground beneath you.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your lips grazing her ear as you spoke. You choked on your next words, your chest heavy with the weight of every emotion you’d held back for so long. “I tried to push it away, to pretend I didn’t need you, but I do. I need you, more than anything, more than anyone.”

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her blue eyes glistening with tears but filled with something fierce—relief, adoration, devotion. She exhaled shakily, her lips tugging into a small, fragile smile. “Say it again,” she whispered.

You cupped her face with both hands, brushing the tears from her cheeks as more fell from your own.

“I love you, Vi.” The words came out stronger this time, filled with every ounce of your heart.

Her breath hitched as she surged forward, kissing you with everything she had. Her lips were salty from tears, but they were soft and full of promise, of every unspoken word between you. Her hands tangled in your hair, holding you like you were her lifeline, like she couldn’t bear to let you go.

" get a room you two " sharp, familiar voice suddenly cut through the charged atmosphere between you and Vi. Both of you froze, the moment shattered like glass. Vi’s brow furrowed as she snapped her head toward the voice, her body instinctively shielding you.

" My plan has worked, once again" Vi’s jaw clenched as realization dawned, and you could feel the ripple of tension through her frame. Slowly, she turned to face the figure behind her—someone she had believed, for so long, was lost to her forever.

" Hey sis " Jinx mumbled, her voice unexpectedly soft, though her eyes betrayed a storm of emotions.

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

Yet another chaotic, lively night filled the bar. The room buzzed with energy—laughter spilling over from clusters of friends, glasses clinking together, and the thrum of low music weaving warmth through the air. Tables were packed, couples leaned close over shared secrets, and the familiar smell of cheap liquor and Zaun’s ever-present grit grounded you in this moment. It was chaos, but it was your chaos. You thrived in it, finding bits of yourself among the people who called this part of Zaun home.

“Can you believe this guy just lost ten packs of cigarettes to me in one sitting?” Revek’s voice rumbled as he sauntered up to the bar, slapping a satisfied hand against the counter.

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “Amazing. Your lungs are gonna thank you for that one,” you teased, smirking as you leaned forward to fix a wobbly glass.

“Don’t act all high and mighty,” he retorted with a deep laugh. “I’ve seen you steal a cigarette or two when you thought I wasn’t paying attention, you little liar.”

“Shut up, old man,” you hissed back, though a smile cracked your feigned irritation. Revek always had a way of making you laugh, no matter how exhausting the day had been.

He smirked and winked. “Speaking of cigarettes, I’m overdue for one now.” He pointed toward the back door, already reaching for his pocket. “Hold the fort, will ya?”

“I always do,” you replied, shooing him away playfully.

Tonight was busy—louder than most nights—but instead of draining you, it energized you. The hum of life in this place reminded you why you stayed, why you found comfort within Zaun’s controlled chaos. Even when things went wrong, this bar had become a haven, a tether to stability in a world that often didn’t make sense. The doors swung open suddenly, the motion catching your eye. Instantly, the corners of your mouth tugged into a smile. A familiar figure strode through the threshold, confidence in every step, her electric pink hair unmistakable. Vi.

She saw you almost immediately and grinned, shaking her head slightly as she approached. Her stride quickened as she crossed the room, her intense gaze locking onto yours with that unmistakable spark of mischief.

“Hey there, stranger,” she said smoothly, a teasing lilt in her voice as she leaned against the counter, her elbows resting casually on the worn wood. Her smirk was downright dangerous as she bit her lip, her eyes sparkling. “Care to make me a drink?”

You chuckled softly, pretending to be unimpressed.

“We were supposed to meet at home later, you know.” You tilted your head knowingly as you reached for a glass, already preparing her favorite drink.

She shrugged, her grin widening as she leaned closer. “What can I say? I couldn’t wait to see you,” she murmured, her voice low and dripping with honesty.

Heat bloomed in your chest, your heart fluttering as her presence overwhelmed your senses. Without thinking, you leaned forward, her face so close to yours that your noses nearly touched. Your lips met in a kiss—soft and slow at first, but as her smile curled into it, she tried to deepen it. But the sound of a sharp, exaggerated cough from the doorway cut through the intimate moment.

“Thirty minutes!” Revek called out loudly, his rough voice breaking the spell. He stood by the doorway with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air. “Shift ends in thirty minutes, lovebirds. Surely you two can wait till then.”

You pulled back reluctantly, laughing under your breath as Vi groaned dramatically.

“Sorry, Rev,” she replied with an unapologetic smirk. Her tone was playful, but her hand still lingered on the counter near yours.

Revek chuckled, shaking his head as he blew out another puff of smoke. “Vi, you’re gonna be the reason I have to fire my best employee,” he joked, but his tone betrayed the affection he felt for you both.

Turning back to Vi, you couldn’t help the way your chest swelled at the sight of her. The teasing curve of her lips, the confident edge in her stance, and those intense blue eyes—they held your heart hostage every time. You couldn’t look at her without falling deeper.

“I’ll be waiting outside, stranger,” she murmured, her voice just loud enough to reach your ears. The warmth in her tone felt like an echo that would linger long after she left. She leaned in once more, brushing her fingers lightly against your hand—a touch so fleeting but electric—and then disappeared back into the night. Her words left you breathless, stirring something deep within your chest as you finished the shift with your mind elsewhere. Vi always had a way of making you forget the rest of the world—of anchoring you to her, no matter what storms tried to pull you apart. She’d wait for you, and you’d always follow her.

Author's note: I truly cannot believe that this story is done . It was my first time ever writing something and Echoes became even more important to me since creating this story made me fall in love with writing . I want to thank everyone who even once liked, shared, commented on my story, you guys were the ones who motivated me into finishing it .

As for the last chapter, it took a long time to write it. I wanted to make everything perfect, give each character a deserved (or not so) ending. Please let me know thoughts about it, don't hesitate to message me, to comment, chatting with you guys truly makes my day!

P.S. I will most definitely continue writing more stories, I can't wait to share more with you.

Thank you!

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lyrakanefanaticwriting · 1 month ago

Text

hehe im actually glad i got this request bc ive been wanting to write a fic like this for a while!!

4 Kisses

——————————————————

GRAYSON:

Grayson leaned over the bathroom faucet, splashing water onto his face. They were still in the break period of the game. The contestants were urged to relax.

But Grayson could in no way relax considering he had just kissed Lyra Kane.

The kiss was slow at first, her lips softer than they looked, before it became quicker with each brush of his lips on hers. And then, once it ended, Lyra had backed away, and the look on her face…

She looked like she had done something wrong. She looked regretful. And, when Grayson tried to ask her what was going on, she backed away from him.

“I can’t do this right now Grayson,” she had said. Grayson had taken her hand in his a moment before she ran off.

“Please talk to me.” he had said—no, almost begged. She looked at him, and he could tell that she was caught off guard, that she hadn’t expected to see her grief mirrored in his face so visibly. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“214-506-3301.” Was all she said. Grayson’s eyes widened once he realized the significance of those numbers. She let go of his hand gently, before backing away slowly. “Call me later. But right now… I just can’t, Grayson.”

So thats how Grayson ended up on the floor of the bathroom in his room, entering her number in his phone, labelling it “Lyra”. He knew by the words “call me later” that she wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, either. But Grayson wouldn’t take the risk of interrupting any hopes of sleep that Lyra might have tonight, because her rest is more important that Grayson’s closure. Her health always will be.

Staring at her number in his phone while wishing for a thousand things that he knew would never come true, Grayson finally willed his fingers to slide to his messages, and type a 3 digit number into the group chat with all his brothers; 911.

When his brothers had came, Grayson looked overall normal, aside from the tips of his hair that were wet and his tie that had gone slightly undone. The pain from Lyra’s silent rejection didn’t show on Grayson’s face, and he was grateful, for once, that he had learned at a young age to hide his emotions.

But his brothers noticed every little detail.

“Something wrong, Gray?” Nash asked. His tone wasn’t gentle, but instead sturdy, like a shoulder Grayson had to lean on. Grayson was going to tell them. He was going to tell them that he and Lyra kissed, and how Lyra responded to the kiss. But then he realized that telling them her response would lead to more questions, and he would never be able to forgive himself if he told Lyra’s horrible trauma regarding her father to his brothers when the situation was so complex. He paused, and Jameson took up the opportunity to speak.

“Really Nash? Gray over here hasn’t called a 911 in 2 years and all you have to say is “something wrong?”? Here’s a real question,” Jameson said, giving him a sly smile. “are you ready for what we have planned?” Grayson narrowed his eyes at him.

“What activities can we even participate in? It’s not like we can leave the island, and it might seem a little weird to the other contestants if they see us frolicking around on the island. Besides, there’s hardly any indoor activities that would please you.” Grayson stated curtly. Jameson’s smile widened.

“Whatever you say, Gray.” Jameson said in a sing-song tone. Xander had a matching grin on his face beside Jameson, and Grayson could tell that they had planned this 911 together.

Now, all Grayson could do was fear for his dignity.

Coating one of the hallways in soap and sliding down it in a plastic shed was not something Grayson expected to do today, but then again, he didn’t expect any of the activities planned.

And, once they were done, the age old Hawthorne game called Drink or Dare commenced. And, as it seemed, Grayson was losing terribly.

“Jameson,” Grayson started in an attempt to get Jameson back for all his dares, his voice the slightest bit off as he was getting tipsier, “I dare you to call Mrs. Laughlin and pretend you’re calling Avery.” Jameson snorted.

“That’s it? Wow, you’ve lost your touch Gray.” Jamie said, pulling out his phone. But his fingers lingered as he stared at Grayson with a raised brow. Grayson wasn’t done, and Jameson knew it. Grayson smiled as he continued.

“Pretend you’re calling Avery, except pretend you’re doing something over the phone that not even myself in this state will elaborate on.” Gray continued. Xander exploded into laughter, putting his hands over his ears and muttering “ew, ew, ew”, while Nash was chuckling. Jameson laughed too, but Grayson saw how his ears turned the slightest bit red as he immediately grabbed the shot glass in front of him, spilling its contents slightly as he drank the shot. Slamming the glass down, Jameson directed his focus onto Xander.

“Xander, I dare you to coat yourself in a bottle of shaving cream and run around the island.” Jameson said. Grayson let the slightest smile out as he watched Xander jackrabbit out of the room.

“And now,” Jameson said, twirling his empty shot glass, “we wait.”

Conversation and a few easier dares started up, before out the window they saw Xander with a shaving cream hat, shaving cream face, and shaving cream all over his chest and arms running around the island like a maniac. Grayson’s smile broadened, while Jameson was dying laughing and Nash had to fist a hand in his mouth to stop himself from doing so as well. 5 minutes later, Xander came back in.

“A lot of shaving cream flew off my perfect body, but I have to say, that was fun!” Xander said with a grin as he wiped shaving cream off his face. “Well, it was fun until I slipped.” Grayson snorted. Jameson leaned back in his chair.

“I’m getting bored of this game. How about we play Hawthorne truth or dare?” Jameson asked. Grayson raised a brow in intrigue. “Truth or dare. If you can’t answer a truth or complete a dare, you take a shot.” Grayson narrowed his eyes at Jameson.

“Where did you get all this alcohol from?” Grayson asked in suspicion. Jameson smirked.

“You really thought I’d come to Hawthorne Island without alcohol?” Jameson replied. Grayson snorted. Jameson had him there.

“My turn,” Nash started, his cowboy accent thicker as a result of him getting tipsier. “Jameson, truth or dare.” Jameson smirked.

“Dare. Who do you think I am?” Jameson replied. Nash smiled.

“I dare you to babysit Hannah and Sarah once the game ends.” Nash said simply. Jameson’s jaw dropped as Xander burst out laughing. Grayson couldn’t stop his small smile from broadening either. (Authors Note: i know nash’s kids probably weren’t even conceived yet, but for the sake of this fic, let’s pretend that they were, and that they’re about a couple months old or something)

“Are you serious? You can’t use dares to rope us into babysitting your kids!” Jameson exclaimed, while Nash, Xander, and even Grayson himself were laughing. But then Jameson rolled his eyes.

“But of course I will, I love those two.” Jameson said begrudgingly. Nash smirked.

“You better.” Nash told him. His tone wasn’t dangerous, but we weren’t stupid. Xander redirected his focus from Nash to Grayson. So far, Xander hadn’t taken a single shot, mainly because his hatred for shots had fuelled his dare abilities.

“Grayson, truth or dare!” Xander bellowed. Grayson raised a brow at him.

“Truth.” Grayson answered, after a moment’s consideration. Xander grinning cheekily.

“Where were you…” Xander started, his grin stretched across his face. “a couple of hours ago?” Grayson froze, but only for the slightest moment.

A couple of hours ago, he had been with Lyra. He had been kissing her, and for once, nothing felt wrong.

But for Lyra, he could tell that everything was wrong.

Grayson couldn’t tell his brothers the truth, that they had been kissing a couple of hours ago, because he couldn’t risk letting any information go about her running off. They would sniff a story out immediately, and Lyra’s father’s situation was not his story to tell.

He’d never forgive himself if he compromised any information about Lyra’s father to his brothers without Lyra’s okay.

Grayson spoke to stop the pain in his chest before it started.

“What do you mean?” Grayson asked, tip-toeing around the question. Jameson butted in.

“Where were you a couple of hours ago? It’s a pretty straightforward question.” Jameson prodded, a sly smile on his face and intrigue clear in his expressions. Grayson kept a straight face.

“I was walking around the island. I couldn’t sleep.” He said. Technically, Grayson wasn’t lying. He was walking around the island. He couldn’t sleep.

However, his reasons behind being wide awake, thinking, and walking around the island weren’t for personal purposes. They were for a certain tanned ballerina, who had been plaguing his mind for hours.

So… it technically wasn’t a lie.

Jameson opened his mouth, and Grayson could tell he was about to accuse him of lying, when Grayson received a phone call. He jolted upwards, thinking it would be Lyra, before checking his phone and not seeing her name on the screen, but an unknown number. With a raised brow and slightly deflated manner, Grayson stood up.

“Excuse me for one moment,” Grayson said, leaving the room before answering the call.

“Hello?” he said. There was silence. Grayson’s brow furrowed.

“Who is this?” he asked, to apparently nobody. The silence drew on for a few moments more, before the person on the other end of the phone hung up. Weird.

Grayson put his phone away with a sigh, before walking back into the room.

“Who was it?” Jameson asked, his expression full of intrigue as he wore a sly smile. Graysons brows furrowed.

“I don’t know. The person on the other end of the line didn’t say a word before hanging up.” Grayson said, his brain working through who it could be as he placed his phone face-up on the table. A person who got the wrong number?

“Maybe it’s a prank caller?” Xander offered. Grayson entertained the idea in his head, but seriously doubted it. Nash looked elsewhere as he spoke.

“Maybe it’s Eve.” Nash said. Grayson’s head whipped to his. He was about to speak, when Nash interrupted.

“We know she tried contacting you 2 years back. Is this why you called the 911? Has she been contacting you, and if so, have you been contacting her back?” Nash asked, his gaze steady as he looked at Grayson. Grayson was deeply disturbed. He really did not want to think that it was Eve who called him, and he didn’t want his brothers to think he was calling Eve.

“No. That time 2 years ago was the last. And why would I be trying to make contact with her?” Grayson demanded. Nash gave a half shrug.

“Say what you want, but you don’t have the best track record of resisting against that girl.” Nash said simply, fiddling with his shot glass. Grayson’s head started to hurt, and he wished suddenly that he’d went a bit easier on the shots. His drunk self remembered then that he was supposed to defend himself and rebuke against everything Nash was saying, when Jameson stood.

“Relax, Nash. Whatever Gray and Eve were is over. Besides, just because he gave her a few kisses doesn’t mean the two are linked for life.” Jameson said, his tone unsurprisingly teasing. Grayson frowned as he began cleaning up the empty bottles of alcohol on the table.

“Me and Eve didn’t kiss, but thank you Jamie.” Grayson said, his tone sarcastic, even though he did appreciate the sentiment. Xander laughed.

“Do you need some more kisses, Gray-Bear?” Xander asked him in a baby voice. Nash snorted and Jameson laughed, but Grayson just looked unimpressed as he started putting away empty alcohol bottles.

“Believe it or not, but 4 is good enough for me, Alexander.” Grayson deadpanned, turning around. Grayson didn’t know what it was, but in that moment, it was like all the air got sucked out of the room. Grayson was about to question it as his back was turned to his brothers, before Jameson spoke.

“4, you say?” Jameson pried. But there was something under the innocent curiosity, something that wasn’t so innocent and seemed…. slyer. Grayson frowned. He continued putting the empty bottles in a trash bag they’d brought in case.

“Yes, 4.” Grayson insisted. Maybe it was just his tipsy brain thinking, but something was definitely off. Then Jameson spoke, and Grayson realized what it was.

“Who’s the 4th?” Jameson pried. Grayson froze, but it was so quick that he swore nobody saw. He knew where he’d slipped up; he just had to make sure his brothers didn’t know.

“Hm?” Grayson asked, feigning nonchalance as he tried to downplay it all. Unluckily for him, it didn’t work.

“You said you didn’t kiss Eve, and then proceeded to say you kissed 4 people,” Jameson elaborated, and, when Grayson turned around, he realized Jameson was speaking the words with a great big grin on his face, like he’d discovered something. “There’s Emily, then Avery, then that chick from Harvard, and there would’ve been Eve too, but you didn’t kiss Eve. So who’s the 4th?” Grayson pretended like he’d just remembered something.

“Oh, I must have misspoke then. 3, I mean to say.” Grayson said, nodding as if this were true. But he knew who the 4th person he’d kissed was, and he knew that when he’d accidentally admitted he’d kissed 4 people, his mind was on Lyra.

All his brothers were staring at Grayson with wide smiles on their face that matched their wide eyes. Look at you, Grayson’s mind said in deadpan, you didn’t even have to tell them you kissed Lyra; they already know due to your idiocy.

“What?” Grayson asked, his tone clearly annoyed as his brothers just stared at him. Their smiles only grew.

“You’re lying.” Nash said simply, the words sounding less like an accusation and more like a simple fact. Grayson was going to rebuke his statement… but he couldn’t. Either way, they would know he was lying, and either way, he wanted to tell his brothers about the kiss. It was why he’d called the 911 in the first place.

And that feeling she gave him when she had kissed him—that would never leave him. He would be content to feel that way forever.

Grayson sighed, pulling a chair out from the table they were all sitting around and plopping down in it. He wouldn’t normally be so graceless, but he was drunk, and a part of him couldn’t forget how Lyra had ran away from him after the kiss.

“Who was it?” Jameson sounded like he was about to implode. Grayson looked up at Jameson, and he could feel a lie brewing—“I didn’t want you to judge me for kissing Eve”, just so that he wouldn’t betray any information that Lyra wouldn’t want him to, when his phone, flat on the table, rang.

Grayson couldn’t explain the mixed up excited-yet-horrified feeling he got when he looked down at his phone at the same time as his brothers and saw “Lyra” as the caller.

He saw the exact moment where emotions and different reactions were about to ring out from across the room, when Grayson jumped to his feet, holding a hand out to them.

“You will not act different towards her,” he immediately ordered, picking up his phone. “You won’t give her weird stares every time you see her, you won’t mention anything about this or the two of us to her, and under no circumstances will you make a joke about in-laws. That goes for you the most, Jameson.” Jameson was grinning so widely, and his eyes were gleaming so brightly, that for a second Grayson wondered if he was the one who got kissed.

“Alright, lovebird!” Jameson called out to Grayson as he stumbled out of the room, hooting.

As soon as Grayson closed the door behind him, the room erupted into conversation, laughter…. and cheers? Grayson shook his head before answering the call.

“Lyra.” He said, as soon as he placed the phone to his ear. His heart drummed with the excitement of waiting to hear her voice. And, once it came, his heart began to drum a quicker beat.

“Hello to you too.” Lyra replied. Grayson knew she would make a mockery of the fact that he hadn’t said hello; he wondered then if he was beginning to do things like that on purpose, just to get a reaction out of her. God knows he liked it. There was silence, before she spoke again.

“Hey, I just wanted to say….” her voice trailed off, the words seemingly stuck in her throat.

“It’s okay.” Grayson said. When he didn’t get a response, he spoke again.

“Lyra. It’s okay.” He repeated, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for her to believe him. She sighed.

“You know…. it’s weird how we always end up on the phone.” she finally said, after moments of silence. Grayson smiled.

“Getting deja vu?” he asked. His words jumbled in his mouth, the effects of alcohol getting to him more than he thought it would.

“Are you drunk?” Lyra blatantly asked, not bothering to beat around the bush. Grayson sighed.

“No. Maybe. I’m not quite sure.” he said. Lyra snorted.

“So you are. Well, I should be going then. You need to rest.” she said. Grayson frowned.

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Grayson, please-“

“Maybe I do. But don’t hang up. Please.” his voice teetered on a desperate edge, and he could just barely hear her sharp intake of breath. A few moments of silence passed, before Lyra spoke.

“Okay. I won’t.” she finally said. There was a pause, before she spoke again. “Though I am quite curious, Hawthorne, as to why you’re drunk.” Grayson laughed. He laughed and laughed because Lyra could never know that she was the reason as to why he was drunk.

“What’s so funny?” she said. Grayson could imagine Lyra’s face as she spoke, that smile of hers on it, the one that she never noticed; however, it didn’t matter if she noticed it or not, because Grayson did. Every time.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Grayson said once he’d stopped laughing. Lyra made a hm sound as if she had suspicions about that, but moved on.

“I’ve been wondering what the next stage of the game will look like.” she said. “I know for sure that it won’t be so much of a “team effort” as it was previously, but there’s still plenty left unknown about it.” Grayson mulled it over.

“There is definitely more than an air of mystery around it.” Grayson agreed. Then his mind went elsewhere. “It will feel odd, going into the next stage of the game without Odette there.”

“I know. I can’t believe she gave her place in the game to him.” Lyra said. Grayson knew which him she was talking about: Brady Daniels. And then he felt a smile touch his lips once he realized he spoke her words with disdain. Leave it to Lyra to dislike someone she doesn’t know.

“He’s a stranger, Lyra. Besides, if Odette gave him her place in the game, it’s probably for good reason.” he said. Grayson could practically see her opening her mouth to rebuke his statement, so he butted in. “Does Odette really strike you as the kind of woman that doesn’t know what she’s doing?” That made her pause.

“No.” she finally grumbled. Grayson was surprised she’d agreed; Lyra was the kind of girl who fought tooth and nail to be right, and Grayson didn’t mind that one bit. He smiled.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “but did the Lyra Catalina Kane just agree to something I said?”

“Maybe that’s just your drunk mind talking. You’ve just barely stopped slurring your words, by the way.” Lyra told him. Grayson snorted.

“That response seems fabricated.” Grayson pointed out.

“Name 3 fabrics.” she said, with more than just a hint of sarcasm in her deadpan voice. Grayson couldn’t stop a laugh from leaving his mouth then. Lyra was truly getting back at him for his “did you just agree with me?” jab. Lyra let out the smallest laugh at her own joke.

“Okay. You should be getting some rest.” she told him. Grayson could feel his shoulders slumping once he realized their conversation was coming to an end.

“I don’t need rest.” Grayson said, resisting letting the phone call end.

“You’re not a superhero, Hawthorne. You need rest.” she retorted. Grayson sighed.

“I’m fine.” he rebuked.

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“Wow, you really don’t like admitting you’re tired, drunk, and in desperate need of rest, do you?” Grayson could feel his filter leaving him as his drunk mind spoke truths without a second thought.

“If I rest, you’ll hang up.” he stated simply. He heard Lyra’s sharp intake of breath, this time more like a vague gasp.

“And? Is that so bad?” Lyra finally asked. The more logical part of Grayson cursed himself for being so forward, whereas the sleep deprived, drunk, and aching for Lyra part of Grayson spoke up again, needing her to hear his words.

“Yes.” He slurred, rubbing his eyes tiredly. There was a pause on Lyra’s end.

“Really?” she asked. Grayson sighed.

“Mhm.” he replied in a low voice. There was silence for more than a few moments on Lyra’s end. Then, at last, she spoke.

“We don’t know what time the game will be starting tomorrow. You do need to get some rest, Grayson.” Lyra repeated. Grayson found he became even more stubborn whenever he was drunk.

“No.” he said. Grayson heard a “hmph” on Lyra’s end.

“Fine.” she said. Grayson realized, with a jolt, that the voice was clearer, like she was closer to him.

Then, when Grayson turned, he realized she was walking down the hallway. Each step was a graceful stride, and Grayson wondered how long he could stand frozen like how he was then, watching each of her movements. Maybe everybody else was also fascinated by how she moved.

Or maybe Grayson was the only one who just liked watching her move.

Finally she came to a stop in front of him. She raised a brow at him. Lyra had changed into comfy attire, with her hair loose and strands beginning to fall into her face. The look on her face said “what now, Grayson?”. Grayson stared back.

“I’m guessing you’re here to force me to rest?” Grayson tried. Lyra snorted.

“Good guess.” she said, patting his arm and holding onto it. Grayson took a step—and stumbled. Lyra looked up at him bewilderedly. He gave her a confused look.

“Okay, seems we have to do this a different way.” she huffed, blowing a strand of hair. Holding onto his arm, the warmth of her hands spreading onto it even through the dress shirt, Lyra pulled one of his arms over her shoulders. She held onto the wrist dangling off her shoulders, her touch gentle yet firm, and began to walk.

“Don’t fall.” she warned. Grayson smiled.

“I won’t.” he replied. It was a short walk to Grayson’s room, with Grayson telling Lyra where to go, and Lyra not letting him fall. Finally they reached the door to his room. Lyra hesitated at the door for a moment, before latching onto the doorknob, giving it a twist, and opening the door. She pulled Grayson inside, brought him towards his bed, and then pushed him onto it. Grayson smiled a smile he’d learned from Jameson, pushing himself up on the bed with his back pressed against the headboard. He stared at her with half-lidded eyes, and after a moment, Lyra’s eyes moved to the floor.

“Well, I should be leaving now.” Lyra said, breaking the moment. Grayson frowned. He was about to say something, anything, to make her stay, when Lyra saw something on the ground and froze. Grayson’s eyebrows furrowed. She knelt down to pick something up, and when she straightened up again, Grayson saw her holding a sheet of paper.

“This was sticking out of your suit jacket pocket.” she said, staring at it with surprise etched into her features. Lyra didn’t have to say what she was looking at, because all of a sudden Grayson remembered the drawing.

The one he had drawn a mere couple of hours ago. The one of her.

Maybe he was supposed to be embarrassed that he had kept the drawing. But his head was starting to pound, and he couldn’t find the effort in him to be embarrassed.

“I must say, I captured you pretty well.” he admitted. Lyra gave him a look, but it was half-hearted. Her eyes strayed back to the drawing.

“You made me look beautiful.” she said in a whispered tone. Then she must have caught herself, and Grayson wondered if Lyra had said those words because she thought he wouldn’t remember them the next day. Grayson stared at her.

“I didn’t make you look beautiful, Lyra.” Grayson said. He didn’t have to finish his sentence for Lyra to know what he meant.

He didn’t make her look beautiful. He just captured her. She was beautiful to begin with.

She finally looked up from the drawing, staring at him with slightly open lips, her amber eyes wider than usual. Then she must have realized she looked so shocked because her facial expressions became more neutral, and she looked down.

But Grayson still saw that look on her face. The complex one, the one with a million different emotions on it.

She always wore that one around him.

“I should be going.” she repeated, this time with more certainty as her eyes squeezed shut. Grayson frowned.

“Come here.” he said. Lyra’s eyes opened, staring at him, and she hesitated before walking over to him. He stared at her as she came closer. Once she reached his bedside, Grayson felt possessed by a more fearless spirit.

Or maybe that was just what being in Lyra’s proximity did to him.

Taking her hand in his, Grayson brought her hand to his lips, giving her knuckles a soft kiss as he held her gaze. Her neck tinged pink, her lips parting slightly in shock.

“Thank you.” He said in a quiet tone. For taking care of me, he finished in his head. Lyra was silent at first, before answering.

“You’re welcome, Gray.” The words rolled off his tongue so quickly that Grayson thought he misheard her. Gray. He squeezed his eyes shut, dropping her hand softly as his head leaned back to hit his headboard. Gray. Gray. Gray. He peeled his eyes open to see her staring at him.

“Goodnight.” she whispered. He gave her hand a squeeze.

“Goodnight.” he replied, his tone low and slightly hoarse. She smiled slyly, before walking towards the door, each movement fluid and graceful. She paused at the door to give him one last look, her eyes holding his in a dance of ice blue and amber gold, before she finally stepped out.

Grayson slumped in his bed. He realized then that he had forgotten all about his brothers once Lyra called.

He also realized then that it was worth it, because even with a pounding headache and eyes that were beginning to slide closed, he had never felt more at peace then he previously did at that moment.

In his room.

With Lyra Catalina Kane by his side.

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im sorry the plot changed every 3 lines but i hope you enjoyed it!! 😬😬💗

#fanfiction #fanfic #lyra x grayson fic #lyra x grayson #grayson hawthorne #lyra catalina kane #the grandest game #the inheritance games #nash hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #jameson hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #lyra kane #xander hawthorne

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