Pairing(s): Jimmy Uso x black!Reader, Jey uso x black!reader
Warnings: Cheating, ANGST, Jimmy is NAWT sweet here y'all. Actively gaslights you. Reader has no spine in the first half. Cliff hanger! Eventual Smut so again MDNI!!
Authors note: Yall, I really did try to fit this all into one part, but I got carried away. I hope you guys like it. It took me five ever.
P.S. I tagged anyone that showed interest in the preview
There's almost nothing like finding out it was never going to be you. Truth is, Y/n knew that from the very start.
She could tell herself all day long, that he wasn't staring at that girl across the club, or that the lipstick on his neck was hers, even though she didn't own that shade of red.
She could pretend those panties she'd found under the bed were hers, and that they'd just shrunk in the wash. But what she couldn't deny, was photo glaring back at her from the tiny screen in her hand.
Jimmy had never really tried to hide what he was doing. Let alone who he was doing. He didn't really care to. As long as she pretended not to see it, he would pretend he wasn't doing it.
Nine o'clock on a Tuesday night was when her suspicions had been confirmed. A message came through from an unknown number.
The blurry image of him with his tongue down some NXT girl's throat had been burned in her head from the moment she saw it. There was no text accompanying the picture. She wasn't even sure how they'd gotten her number.
Y/n sat on the bed, bewildered.
She knew he'd feed her some bullshit about it. Claim it was photo-shopped, or that it was Josh in the photo and not him.
Yet, there was no denying the chain with her initial dangling from his neck.
She felt a lump in her throat as she prepared herself for what was to come.
They would argue, no doubt. But the outcome was always the same. The fear of him leaving was enough to keep her in check, Keep her at home.
It was nearing three in the morning when he'd finally make an appearance. She'd been waiting in their shared apartment, almost six hours for him to show his face.
Six. hours.
Three-hundred and sixty minutes since she'd swallowed her tears, made her way down the stairs, perched herself on the couch, and focused all her attention on the front door.
She had every intention of bringing up that photo.
When the door opened, he stood there for a moment, a look of slight confusion flashed across his face. Just as quick as it came, it had gone. Morphing into what could only be described as a half-assed grimace.
He moved as if this was normal, not really paying her any mind. Shrugging off his jacket, ans toeing off his shoes. Just another Tuesday.
Her patience grew thin as she waited for any type of acknowledgement.
"Jonathan, you can't be serious." She sighed. She was tired: of waiting, of hoping, of his shit.
To say he didn't care would be an understatement. He knew he had her wrapped around his finger, there was no reason for him to sweat. He'd scoff and roll his eyes before replying.
"Y/n, don't start."
She really did try to keep her composure, taking in a deep breath and rolling her neck before walking towards him.
That's when it hit her. Some body mist, no more than twenty dollars wafting in the air.
She couldn't help herself.
"I know...that ain't bath and fucking body works."
He exhaled dramatically, throwing his head back while dragging a hand down his face,
"And if it is? You got that shit all over the damn bathroom, now you sittin' here surprised you smellin' it."
Within a matter of a seconds, all hell broke loose. Her eyebrows furrowed, ears got hot, and her lip rose up into a snarl. This nigga was trippin'.
"You know I don't wear no shit like that, Jonathan, dont fucking play with me!" She yelled.
He shook his head, a shit eating grin plastered on his face.
Jonathan could give a fuck less about being caught, but he did like this game they played. He wanted to see just how much she would let him get away with.
"Well if it ain't you, then where the hell would it come from, Y/n?" He asked. Holding his hands out as of to ask her 'are you stupid?'
She shook her head and laughed in disbelief, in that moment she realized, he genuinely thought she was an idiot.
"Whatever two dollar bitch you was just with! I wouldn't dare leave this house smelling like champagne fucking toast!"
He groaned and rubbed his forehead in mock exhaustion, then shrugged his shoulders.
"The fuck do you want me to say Y/n? You want me to tell you I just got done blowing a bitch back out? Is that it?"
That is exactly what she wanted. She knew that's what he'd spent the better half of the night doing, but she couldn't bring herself to call him on it.
Before she could even propose a rebuttal, he was already gearing up to disorient her.
"If that's the case, wouldn't I be sweaty? Wouldn't I smell like sex? Wouldn't I have hickeys all over me? Wouldn't my hair be a fucking mess?"
He chipped away at her resolve until there was almost nothing left.
He bombarded her with one question after another, and didn't stop until he was sure she was too confused to push back.
"Y/n, you know how I get down. Youn' think you'd be able to see that shit? Why would I walk in this house knowing I smell like another bitch? Get the fuck out my face."
This time he didn't give her any time to respond. Rounding the corner and heading upstairs before she could process anything he'd just said.
She sat there almost dumbfounded. A stain in the carpet was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
She racked her brain, trying to find a flaw in his argument, but the lack of sleep combined with the weight of his words hit her like a truck she didn't see coming.
Everything about the way Jonathan spoke felt final. Like what he says goes, no 'if' 'ands' or 'buts'.
She had barley stepped in the ring and already lost.
Her chest burned with everything she'd wanted to say, she opened her mouth but all that came out was a shaky breath.
She really didnt have a good reply for anything he'd just said.
A beat passed, and then she remembers.
That fucking photo.
She had done all that, and forgot to bring up that damn picture.
Here she stood, in her living room, feeling like the dumbest bitch in the world.
All the while Jonathan was, not so subtly, mumbling to himself on the way up the stairs.
Like she was the one out of pocket.
Like she came home six hours too late.
Like she was the one running around, fucking anything that had a pulse.
Then he let something slip.
"...and If I wanted to deal with bitches on my dick, I would've stayed where the fuck i was..."
Her fingers curled into her palms, nails biting the skin, trying to anchor herself to something, anything, that felt real while he spoke like she wasn't there.
The room started to feel too small, that cheap ass perfume lingered, as if to say 'That could never be me'.
It made her feel sick to her stomach, and every excuse he threw at her just added to her frustration.
All that time, and for what?
All those late nights, waiting for him to finally choose her.
All those arguments about the little things she couldn't quite prove.
Her initial reaction was to seek him out, ask him to repeat what the fuck he just said. But what was the point? It's not like he'd be honest. Jonathan would just tell her she was reading too much into it and dismiss her as always.
So instead, she decided to answer every question he'd asked.
Was he sweaty? A little.
Did he smell like sex? He smelled like another bitch. That counts for something.
Was his hair a mess? Yes, actually.
Did he have any hickeys? Well...I dont know.
Once she had processed everything, she decided she had to know.
No more questions. No more wondering whether or not the man she fell for was still in there. No More.
She lifter her head, and walked over to the base of the staircase. The journey up seemed daunting. All she could do was stare ahead.
Y/n wasn't completely sure if she was ready to give him up. She really did love Jonathan.
Did.
These days, she can't even pinpoint what she feels for him. It's comfort, at best.
She shook the thoughts from her head and began climbing the stairs. The photos that lined the walls seemed to serve no other purpose than to mock her.
Show her all the best parts of the last two years she'd wasted. Remind her that almost every smile of his was fake.
Every hug, every kiss, every fuck, would be nothing more than a memory after tonight.
The way he touched her would become nostalgia. The way she screamed his name, good or bad, would die on her lips tonight. The marks he'd left on her body would only serve as a reminder that she wasn't enough.
By the time she reached the bedroom door, y/n's emotions had started to get the better of her. When she reached for the doorknob, she felt the tears welling in her eyes.
Did she really mean nothing to him? How could he look her in the eye, and lie to her everyday for two years straight? She figured none of that mattered now.
With false confidence and a sniffle, she pushed the door open. Ready for whatever fight they'd inevitably end up in.
She didn't see him on the bed or at the desk, but she did hear the shower running.
She quietly closed the door back, turning her attention to the remote on the bed.
Y/n grabbed, turning the tv on and flicking through channel after channel at an attempt to distract herself.
The anxiety was eating her alive.
What would she say?
Would this be the last time she saw him? Would he fight to keep her, for once?
In an effort to ease her mind, she began to scan the room. Trying to find something else to focus on.
There it was, on top of the dresser.
Taunting her.
That little black box that gave her hell whenever it went off. It was always faced down. Held close to his face, he never left it for her to find. Careful to keep it on his person at all times.
This was her chance.
Y/n glanced toward the bathroom door, the water drumming against the tile let her know she still had time.
If there was any hesitation left, it wasn't with her right now.
She snatched it, swiping up on the screen and met her first hurdle, his password.
She knew she only had a few attempts before everything went to shit.
Y/n also knew that she had a limited amount of time to figure this shit out.
She tried his birthday, her birthday, his mom's birthday. None worked.
Y/n grew ansty. This would be her last attempt before the phone would lock itself up and blow her cover.
She say for a few more seconds, drawing what felt like the biggest blank ever. Then, and idea struck.
1-0-0-9. The day he and his brother had been signed.
She almost dropped to her knees when the wall keeping her from the truth fell.
The first and only thing she did with the device was check the messages.
Sure as shit, there were tons of unsaved numbers. Each with a message riskier than the last.
There was only one that really caught her eye and made everything stand still.
A thread between Jonathan and her closest friend Imani Howard.
Mani: Who gives a fuck what perfume I got on? Still got that dick didn't I?
Jimmy: I'm sayin. She clocked the perfume but ain't see how my pants was loose, or how I ain't even have on same shirt I left in.
Mani: That's her fault, if she did what she was supposed to she wouldn't have to worry about her man not bein' home.
Jimmy: U right. when you gon let me come back though?
Mani: Whenever you want Daddy. π
Y/n didn't think twice. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and snapped a picture of the thread.
They truly had her fucked up.
She heard the water stop running. At this point, she couldn't give a fuck about getting caught.
She was done.
Y/n threw his phone back on the dresser, careful to leave it unlocked. She then turned to the closet and pulled out her suitcase.
Her anger built fast and steady. She practically launched the luggage into the middle of the room, and began throwing whatever she could in it.
Jonathan exited the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist. She didnt spare so much as a glance in his direction.
Jonathan rolled his eyes.
He'd watched this scene unfold a number of times, and wasn't very impressed.
"You still trippin'?" He asked with a raised brow.
On any given day, they'd argue, she'd threaten to leave, he'd make attempt to lure her to bed, she'd fold, and all would be just about forgiven in an hour.
Unfortunately for Jonathan, this was not any given day. He seemed to pick up in thag when he got no response. Just more aggressive packing.
"You ain't hear me? I said-"
She cut him off with a huff,
"I fucking heard you! Now move!"
For the first time in a long time, it was her confusing him. Jonathan was genuinely shocked.
"Aye, who the fuck you talkin' to? You lost yo mind, Y/n?"
She giggled, moving into the bathroom to round up more of her shit.
"Nope," She said, arms full of toiletries, jewlery, and makeup.
"I actually just found it."
His brows scrunched as he tried to figure out what exactly she was doing.
"The fuck's that supposed to mean?"
Her patience was nonexistent now, he was staring to piss her off.
"The fuck does it look like?" She shot back. Words laced with disdain.
He waved her off, walking over to the dresser to grab his phone.
She didn't even wait for a reaction, just zipped the suitcase and walked out of the room.
Soon, he was hot on her trail, practically begging for a chance to explain himself, while simultaneously shimmying a pair of sweats on.
His excuses fell on deaf ears. Y/n had simply had enough.
That didn't mean she wouldn't endulge.
Y/n stopped abruptl, causing him to bump into her. She stepped away and met his gaze.
The look y/n gave him was purely satirical. Amusement was written all over her face, something that said, "Oh please, do explain."
Jonathan began rambling about how it wasn't what it looked like, and how he would never cross that line. Then he went on to tell his worst lie yet.
"Baby, I was just venting to her about how I felt. I ain't do nothing with her. Ion even know where she stay."
The desperation in his voice would've had her fooled, had he not picked her up and dropped her off from that house over a hundred times.
She held up her hand and shook her head. Jonathan stopped talking. He was just hoping he hadn't lost this game yet.
He watched her, waiting to see what her next move would be.
Y/n was swift as she picked up the suitcase and flung it down the stairs. It collided with the wall.
The man beside to her flinched as every photo on those walls came crashing down.
She turned to him, grabbed his hand and flipped his palm up. In it, she placed her key.
"Fuck you. I never wanna see you again."
As she walked down the stairs, his ego got the better of him.
"The fuck are you gon' go, y/n? Huh? You ain't got shit!"
His assertion went without a response, so he continued.
"You got another man or sum? Yeah fuckin' right." He laughed out.
Jonathan was unraveling, quickly.
Y/n still didn't respond. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she picked up her suitcase and grabbed her keys off the entryway table.
Jonathan felt a genuine smile creep up on his face. He'd found a chink in her armor.
"You ain't takin' my fucking car nowhere," he said as he started walking down.
"You wanna leave so damn bad, find another way to get the fuck out. You ain't leaving with shit I paid for, take that fucking car and imma report it stolen." He spat.
They were now standing toe-to-toe, he held his hand out, expecting her to place the keys in his hand, just as she'd done before.
Y/n huffed through her nostrils and without breaking eye contact, let the keys hit the floor.
"Fine."
That was all she had left to offer him. The last word she'd utter to Jonathan Fatu.
With that, she turned on her heels, ripped the door open, and walked out.
She'd jumped when he'd slammed it behind her.
Y/n didn't crumble until she heard the lock twist. It was all over.
The tears came faster than she could handle, and the cry that tore from her chest almost hurt.
She stayed like that for a few more minutes, crying on what used to be her front porch in the dead of night.
Jonathan was right. She really didn't have anyone to turn to, let alone anywhere to go.
In her defense, she'd never got this far before.
Her parents were on the other side of the country, and her now ex-bestfriend was no longer and option.
So, after some serious deliberation, she dialed the only number she could think of. The phone rang for what felt like forever.
She felt a nervousness settle into her bones.
Would she have to go crawling back and prove his point? Stay out in the cold until she could figure out what to do?
Both options seemed embarrassing as hell.
She just about gave up, until the 5th ring.
"...Hello?"
She gasped, all but sobbing in relief,
"Helloβ hey! I'm sorry, I know it's late but-"
The voice on the other line let out a chuckle.
"Late? It's four-thirty in the morning, y/n."
The girl whimpered, the floodgates threatened to open as she desperately to explain why she was interrupting his sleep.
"I know, godβ fuck! I know and I'm so, so sorry. I justβ I had no one else to call, Jon and I are done, and I'm locked outside, and it's cold andβ"
"Woah, woahβ hey calm down. Watchu' mean you and Jon done? And why would you be locked out this late?"
Y/n nearly broke trying to explain everything from start to finish.
From the picture of him and the nxt girl, to the argument, to Imani, and how he wouldn't let her take the car.
She heard a deep sigh come from the other side of the line.
"Just...stay where you are. I'm on the way."
She inhaled, feeling the weight lift off her shoulders,
"Thank you, oh my god, thank you!"
The last response he gave was a tired but playful, "Mhm."
Over the next ten minutes, y/n sat there, thinking about everything that had transpired.
She really wanted to be sad about the whole thing, but all she felt right now, was freedom.
She almost thanked Jonathan and Imani for placing that last straw on her back.
Still, what they did would leave a nasty scar. One that would re-define trust, and what it meant to her.
She wasn't thinking about their relationship, or weather or not she could save it.
πΈ Iβm literally the most prettiest person on the planet. people stare at me in awe because of how jaw droppingly delicious I look
π my skin is always smooth, clear, and glowy asf. people literally mistake me for a mirror because of my pretty radiant skin
πΈ I am naturally the most attractive in the room, I donβt even have to try but I mog everyone even without makeup on
πI love how I can get lost in my face in the mirror bc im that pretty and cute, im so easy to stare at, im undeniably perfect
πΈ I have long luscious lashes and the most beautiful facial structure that makes me look like a living daydream, every part of me is captivating, uniquely sexy nd perfect
π pretty privilege is a real thing and im having a blast, ppl cant say no to my pretty face and charm which allows me to attract any person i want, im spoiled like a princess
πΈ im extremely photogenic and look amazing in every single photo, like every photo naturally makes me look 100x more attractive
π everyone is smitten over my beauty and everyone compares my face to that of a heavensent angel
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