babe, only you.
jack hughes x reader
to feed my jack obsession recently, here’s a bit of angst and fluff (no mature content). please, enjoy.
also: there’s no proofread, so..
—————————
you found yourself always wondering; “am i good enough for him?”, “do i deserve him?”. comments had been lashed out earlier this evening to darken those already eerie thoughts that you fought so hard to not reside with. a long, long stay.
jack came into the room, that was the man that’s ‘in love with you’. those thoughts slashed at your mind little cuts kept wracking your head. the trance you were in was broken by your lovers lips lovingly placed onto your head, and you felt the couch slightly dip when he sat down beside you. his arm snaked around your shoulders and pulled you close to him, your head lying on his shoulder.
no one questioned if he did enough in this relationship. no one made snarky comments on how he was so quiet, how he looked like he never put enough effort into how he showed his love, but they did to you. and it was torture trying to hit those thoughts out of your brain. every single one of those comments lingered for longer and longer each time someone made another.
“what’s wrong?”
his soft voice lingered in the room as he ran his calloused hands up and down your arm. the television was playing in the background, an old re-run of big bang theory, muted, but with subtitles.
“jack, it’s just,” you started, why couldn’t you form words. a pang in your heart stung against your chest. “i don’t deserve you.” you whispered, he froze, eyes straying from the tv and to your slumped form against him.
“what makes you think that?” he murmured, his blue eyes connected with your glossy (e/c) ones.
“i- im not good enough-“ you were cut off by a sweet kiss to the lips. “don’t talk like that. i don’t care if your quiet, i don’t care what people say about our relationship, (y/n)!” he exclaimed. “people don’t know you, and how lucky i am to actually know and to be with you. i thank anyone in the skies above that they let me hold your hands. you are everything, my universe, my world. don’t let people tear into you.”
he rubbed his hands up and down your spine as you sobbed painfully into his chest, dampening his shirt.
the thoughts were still there, but at least you had someone to guide you along this long and winding road.
“i love you.”
170 notes
·
View notes
I was thinking about how Scorpius says he’s going to try out for the Quidditch team and this is how I think it would go down…
The entire week prior to tryouts, he’s waking up extra early before classes and dragging Albus out to the pitch to practice (only once the sun is up though, so they don’t have to think about last year's events).
So when the announcement comes out stating who made it on the team, Albus reads Scorpius’ name right next to the word ‘reserve’ and turns to the other boy with an apologetic look, knowing he was hoping for seeker. Even after all that hard work he put in over the summer and during the first week of school, he still hadn’t made an actual spot. But despite Albus’ sudden preparation to console his friend, Scorpius is beaming, a smile splitting his face.
“I made it! I made it on the team!” He was practically jumping up and down as he gripped Albus’ shoulders, “Do you see that? That’s my name right there! I must write my father at once!”
Albus is apprehensive — had he tried out and only made reserve he would’ve quit and withdrawn his name, never letting anyone in his family know he even attempted for the team. But he gladly celebrates with Scorpius.
It isn’t even until the end of term that Scorpius finally gets to play. It had been nearly a whole year of Albus decking himself in Slytherin gear just to sit alone in the stands. He would cheer and wave at his boyfriend who was always sat on the bench where he’d sit the whole game giddily, just happy to be included.
One of the Slytherin chasers had broken a leg in a nasty fall during the last match and had been instructed to sit out for the next one. That meant it was finally Scorpius’ chance to shine. Albus hadn’t confessed how nervous he was for the blond boy earlier that day at breakfast. He knew Scorpius wasn’t all that nimble — he had nearly grown another three inches within the last few months, and he could never quite adjust to the length of his limbs in time for them to grow again. He also had a tendency to get distracted… But Albus hadn’t wanted to put a damper on Scorpius’ excitement so he had kept his mouth shut.
Scorpius rambled on and on about how ready he was and how much he had been training for this moment from the minute they left the breakfast table and all the way down to the pitch that had slowly begun filling with students.
Albus bid him goodbye at the changing room doors, and with a good luck kiss to the cheek he was off to be the worry-some boyfriend in the stands.
The match seems to be going fine for the most part, Scorpius is able to score a few goals and Albus is sure his throat will rip out from how eagerly he cheers for him. But unfortunately his hard work is still nothing compared to how many goals the Hufflepuff chasers are able to score. Albus thinks they might actually make it through the match without any issues until suddenly one of the Hufflepuff beaters is being thrown off his broom and straight into Scorpius.
Albus’ stomach falls as he watches his boyfriends head of white blond hair plummeting towards the pitch, his broom shooting off towards the opposite stands. He had never shot up from his seat and ran towards the stairs so fast. His heart was hammering in his chest both from the exertion of running, which he didn’t do often, as well as panic for his boyfriend's safety.
He hears shouts as he darts across the pitch to where professors and players have swarmed around the Hufflepuff beater and Scorpius.
The beater is holding his arm and groaning as the nurse mutters about him. Albus’ eyes finally land on Scorpius expecting the worst. Surely bones are broken, he’ll probably be weary of ever getting on a broom again, let alone going up high — it was probably over a hundred and fifty feet that he had just fallen.
But there Scorpius was, sitting up in the grass with the same beaming grin on his face that he had the day the teams were announced.
“Albus!” He shouted as his boyfriend came into view, “Did you see that? Wasn’t that wicked?”
Albus couldn’t wipe the petrified look off his own face as he fell to his knees next to Scorpius, his hands going to Scorpius’ shoulders and then to his face, holding him tenderly.
“You’re alright?”
“Of course I am! McGonagall’s wonderful cushion charms! Oh, but I do think I broke my ankle!” He said cheerfully as if he had been offered sweets
Albus’ eyes glanced down at Scorpius’ foot that was twisted in an unnatural direction. Albus cringed, his stomach turning uncomfortably at the sight. He quickly turned back to face his boyfriend. His cheerful attitude had not been when he was expecting at all. He was far too perky for the situation he had found himself in.
“I’ve always wanted to have a cool quidditch story to tell!” Scorpius explained, only wincing slightly as he shifted his leg before his grin returned, “and now I’ve got one.”
Albus shook his head, still clutching Scorpius’ face, “You idiot, I thought you had died or something!”
Scorpius just laughed and the sound filled Albus’ chest with warmth. He was unable to keep the fond smile from cropping up on his face.
Later, towards the very end of term, when the couple was laid in bed together, the curtains drawn tight so their dormmates didn’t eavesdrop, Scorpius confessed something to Albus.
“I don’t think I’m going to try out for the quidditch team next year,” he admitted quietly.
Albus furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Scorpius had seemed to love being on the team, even though he had only truly played one game. He still raved about his mighty fall and kept the proud letters from his father about making the team.
“Why not? I thought you loved it. And next year you’ll have an even better chance making an actual position,” Albus inquired. Granted, he would secretly be glad he wouldn’t have to wake up early on the weekends for game days anymore. But seeing Scorpius eagerly engaged with something was more important than getting a few extra hours of shut-eye.
“I dunno. I don’t think it’s for me,” Scorpius sighed. “I was pleased to make the team, and now I have a story to tell, but I think next year I want to focus on me things.”
Albus still couldn’t understand. Scorpius’ attitude towards quidditch all year would never have led Albus to predict this conversation. Scorpius had checked out every possible book on quidditch from the library and had whole notebooks full of notes on moves and players.
“Has the team been bullying you? Are they saying stuff?” Albus wondered.
Initially there had been a few hard-headed responses, saying Scorpius didn’t deserve to be on the team due to last year’s fiasco, and the rumors that hadn’t truly died about him being Voldemort's son. But they had quickly died off after a few curt threats from Albus himself.
“No, no, no! They've all been great,” Scorpius assured. “I just think… maybe I’m not a quidditch guy, you know? I had my fun. I think it’s time to move on.”
Albus knew what he meant, neither of them were quidditch guys. He had thought that last year when Scorpius had first mentioned wanting to try out for the team. But he had always been sure to support Scorpius in what he wanted. He had made a promise of that when he had made a promise to Scorpius to not be so self centered.
“You know I’ll support you in anything,” Albus assured, “But why don’t you think this over during the summer? I don’t want you to regret it.”
Scorpius hummed and pulled Albus closer — it would be the last night they got to share a bed for a little while, as tomorrow they were to board the Hogwarts Express to head home for the summer holidays. “I don’t think I need to. I’ve made up my mind.”
38 notes
·
View notes