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sturnioz · 8 months ago

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‘PRETTY & NERDY’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut, established relationship au, college au.

word count. 2.8k

❝i think my pretty girl enjoys the idea of someone seein' my hands on you like this.❞

content warnings. explicit content, fingering, clit stimulation, public sex (exhibitionism), light hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie.

"you know... when i asked if you wanted to work on this project together, i actually meant work." you say, your voice laced with mock seriousness as you glance up at your boyfriend, who sits across the table in the quiet library, a sly smirk dancing on his lips as he leans back in his seat, making himself comfortable.

as he stretches, his foot glides up your calf, the soft fabric of his sock brushing against your skin in a teasing manner — you nearly snort at the thought of him just wearing one shoe beneath the table, but the sensation of his gentle touches keeps you from laughing.

his fingers, adorned with rings that catch the dim light, twirls a pen nonchalantly, his body sinking further into his chair as he presses his foot more insistently between your thighs, sending a shiver down your spine.

"i know you like it," matt murmurs, bringing the tip of his pen to his glasses to push them up the bridge of his nose.

"maybe so," you quip, flipping through the scattered papers on the table and sliding them across the polished woof in his direction. "but i also like getting good grades.. be a good boy and fill out the bottom half while i find another resource book, yeah?"

a grin spreads across his face, and he prods his tongue against his cheek, his head bobbing in a short nod. his foot slips from between your thighs as he sits up comfortably in his seat, and you can't help but smile at his obedience.

you push yourself up from your own seat and make your way over to the nearby shelves, your eyes scanning the titles in search for the right book needed for your research. as you navigate the aisles, you take note of the various students scattered throughout the library.

some have their eyes glued to laptop screens, fingers rapidly typing away, while others are deeply engrossed in thick textbooks, headphones snugly covering their ears.

but in a quiet corner, you spot a couple nestled together, sharing hushed whispers and flirty giggles, their hands innocently wandering as they lean in closer.

they remind you of you and matt — though sometimes, you wouldn't exactly label your own wandering hands as innocent. there's been a few scenarios where you've been out in public, hands shoved down each others pants, or you down on your knees to blow him, or even him laying you down flat on top of a surface and devouring your pussy like a starved animal.

the thrill of being so close to getting caught excites you just as much as it excites him, and the thought alone sends a throb between your legs.

you avert your eyes away from the couple, a smirk creeping onto your lips as you notice them watching you, and their faces flush with embarrassment when they realise they've been caught — hurriedly gathering their belongings, head ducked low, hand in hand as they scurry away, leaving you amused.

"i know you like the feelin' of being watched, but i didn't realise you like being the watcher too..." matt's voice drifts into your ear, teasing and low. you're not taken aback by his sudden appearance, and you sink back into his chest as he presses firmly against your back, enveloping you in warmth. his breath, warm and inviting, dancing along your neck as he whispers, "somethin' you wanna tell me, sweetheart?"

"nothing that you don't already know," you tease back, returning your focus to the shelves in search of the book you need. as you sift through the titles, you feel matt's arms slowly slide around your waist, his palms pressing against your stomach, pulling you closer to him.

a smile tugs at the corner of your lips as his fingertips dip beneath the fabric of your shirt, offering a comforting touch that sends warmth spreading through you.

you ask, "did you finish your section of the paper?"

instead of a verbal answer, matt hums softly, his lips far too busy pressing gentle kisses along your neck. he nips playfully at the sensitive spots, causing your head to roll back against his shoulder, a deep exhale escaping your lips. his hands slip further under your shirt, fingers stroking the skin of your stomach.

the library faded into the background, making it harder for you to concentrate on anything else, and you can feel his grin against your neck, his glasses nudging lightly against your head as he chuckles at the reaction he easily caused.

"anyone can catch us here, you know," you whisper, your hand reaching around to rest on the back of his head, fingers slipping through his dark hair, nails scraping his scalp as you gently tug at the roots, which causes a quiet groan to rumble in his chest. "someone could look over, see your hands up my shirt — or maybe they'll walk over to find a book, and see you pressed against me like this. what would they think?"

"do you care what they would think?" matt whispers in your ear, and you shake your head, a small gasp leaving your lips as you feel his hand slide down to cup your pussy through your skirt, and you push back against him, ass rutting against his growing cock. "do you wanna know what i think? i think my pretty girl enjoys the idea of someone seein' my hands on you like this."

"i do.." you breathe out with a hum. "so, are you actually going to do something about it, or—"

"shh, sweetheart. patience, yeah?" he croons softly as he fists at your skirt, pulling the material up to your hips so he can dip his hands between your legs. "it won't feel good if we rush it, y'know."

your body fully relaxes into him, gripping his hair even tighter as his lips attach to your neck in gentle, affectionate kisses while his fingers stroke over your covered folds, your knees almost buckling when his finger draws circles over your clit.

your body feels hot — clothes sticking uncomfortably like second skin, and you're desperate to peel them off to finally let yourself breathe, but your free hand shoots out to grip the shelf in front of you when you feel matt drag your panties down your thighs, the cold air hitting your core.

"this okay?" matt asks you, his hands massaging your thighs, his thumb kneading into the skin. "can you talk to me, sweetheart?"

"more than okay," you force yourself to speak with a frantic nod. "just touch me — please."

matt smiles, and your mouth drops in a silent gasp as you feel his fingers touch your pussy, spreading your folds and dipping his middle finger in your arousal, chuckling lowly in your ears as your hand leaves his hair to grab onto his wrist for support.

he mutters praises when his finger pushes through your opening, thrusting in once and out before adding a second finger to stretch you open, curling them upwards when he's buried knuckle deep in your warmth.

"fuuuck—"

"you're gonna have to be quiet if you want to continue this," matt warns you, his tone sharp. he halts his movements as he peeks through the shelves to observe the area, seeing students still with their noses shoved into their studies. "we're in a library, sweetheart. did i make you forget that already?"

you click your tongue against your teeth, "you're talking pretty confidently for someone who is breathing heavily in my ear every time i move against you..." you crane your neck to look at him, a smirk creeping onto your lips as you see the surprised look on his face. "what? did you think i wouldn't notice? matt... i thought you were smarter than that."

matt doesn't say a word because he knows you're right. he's hard — cock straining uncomfortably in his pants, and with your ass rubbing over his sensitive tip every time you press back into him, it sends him spirally, unable to control the heaving breathing in your ears.

it always fascinates him knowing how he's the one with his hands shoved between your thighs, yet you are the one that always seems to be in control.

but he has you quietly gasping once again as he starts up his movements, pumping his fingers into your pussy with his thumb rubbing your clit at an angle that has you trembling. your lips press together tightly, your back is arched, and your head lays limp on his shoulder as you grind on his hand, meeting his pace and sending your body into overdrive — body buzzing with each pump of his fingers.

the tension only builds more within the pit of your tummy when you see a student rise from their seat, heading towards the shelves to grab their needed book. they don't walk over in your direction, they don't even look in your direction — completely unaware of what's going on a few aisles down, but yet there's a small part of you that wonders what would happen if they just turn their heads to the left just a little more, to see the sight of your boyfriend fingering your beneath your skirt, pressed up against your body while covering your neck and shoulder in wet kisses.

realistically, you don't want to get caught. but the thought of it is enough to squeeze your thighs around matt's hand and cry out quietly.

"you're close, sweetheart.." matt states against your skin, knowing your body all too well. his movements are slow due to you caging his hand with your thighs, to he decides to circle his thumb over your sensitive nub. "do you want me to make you cum like this, pretty girl?" you're unable to speak, too struck with how he plays with your clit. "talk to me. y'know i won't do anythin' if you don't talk to me."

"i... i don't want to cum like this," you tell him quietly, watching as the student sits back down in their seat. the grip you have on matt's arm tightens, nails subtly pinching his skin. "want to cum on your cock — need to cum on your cock."

"you need to?"

"want to make you feel good—" you pause to pant heavily, your body jerking as he presses harder on your clit. "—need to make you feel good too."

"so fuckin' thoughtful, aren't you, sweetheart?" matt teases as he slips his fingers away, and you mewl at the emptiness with a pout, almost regretting at stopping so short, but you're reminded what's about to come when you hear him shuffling behind you, freeing his cock.

you yearn for him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you, and you're on the verge of raising your voice to show your impatience until you feel his hands bunch your skirt around your hips before squeezing your ass in his palms.

you can't hide the grin on your lips as you provoke him, rubbing yourself back into him and letting out a squeak of surprise when he sends a sharp slap to your ass in warning for you to be patient. you listen to him despite the internal struggle, and you almost lose yourself when he rubs the tip of his cock through your puffy folds.

you brace your hands on the shelf in front of you, the tips of your fingers brushing against the books, and you snort when you see a book about mushrooms and fungi — a little something to remind yourself exactly where you are, but you don't care, not when you can feel matt slowly ease his cock into you, stretching you out to fit snug around him.

matt's hands are firm on your waist when he begins rocking his hips into your at a slow and leisurely pace, rubbing his cock along your walls, and the ache burns pleasurably around your thighs — his size never ceasing to amaze you.

you clench around him with laboured breaths, wanting him deeper, wanting him to go faster and fuck you against the shelf like you truly deserve, but he keeps at his steady pace, whispering affections and praises in your ear.

"fuck," you mutter, rolling your hips back into him. "feels so good, matt."

"yeah?" matt hums, his tongue licking the shell of your ear. "my cock is made just for you, sweetheart... all for you."

you breathe out shakily in response, "m'all for you too."

"fuck, i know, sweetheart," his voice trembles, his hand sliding down between your thighs to play with your clit as his pace quickens. "i know."

he pushes your legs further apart with a light tap of his foot and you spread them quickly, the grip you have on the shelf tightening with each deep thrust of his hips, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit sending your mind whirling. your body starts to shake, and you wonder if you're able to continue to keep yourself upright, taking a glance at the shelves to see if it jolts in time with your body, but you fail to notice when matt suddenly slips out of you.

he carefully turns you around to face him, and your back is uncomfortably shoved against the shelf, the wood digging sharply into your spine. matt's hand slides around the back of your thigh to grip, hooking your leg up over his hip and ducking his head down to kiss you as he slides his cock back into you with an airy sound, almost similar to a whine.

you kiss him back immediately, knocking against his glasses as you turn your head to the side to kiss him deeper, lips moving in sync with his as his hips start to move again. him thrusting his cock so lazily and slow inside almost brings you to tears at how good it feels, hitting all the right spots that has your leg curling around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper.

his hand that isn't holding your thigh delicately caresses your cheek as his tongue prods into your mouth, dancing with your own as his cock hits a certain spot within your gummy walls that has you reeling back, sucking in a deep breath as your orgasm slowly starts to build.

you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots once again and matt moans quietly, his breathing getting heavier as he stares at you with his darkened gaze.

"i'm..." matt swallows thickly. "i—"

"what?" you ask him, brushing his bangs out of his eyes and fixing his glasses, crooked from the kiss. matt doesn't answer for a while and you grow concerned, stilling his thrusts as you press your leg into his side to get him to stop. "matt, what's wrong?"

"i'm—shiiit—m'sorry, i—fuuuck," he's unable to complete his sentences as his hips start up once again, suddenly thrusting into your pussy at a speed that has your mouth dropping open in shock, your hands immediately gripping his shoulders to stabilise yourself. "i can't—fuck, baby—i need—"

you struggle to keep yourself quiet as you moan his name aloud and matt immediately shushes you, his hand covering your mouth, not even bothering to check around to see if anyone has heard you as he keeps his eyes locked on yours, but the eye contract deems to much for him as he lets out a small whimper of affection.

your own hand comes around to cover his mouth to keep him quiet, and you both stay like that, his hips erratically thrusting into yours, your cunt sucking his cock in deep as you stare into each other's eyes, all sounds muffled behind your palms.

your thighs start to shake with each frantic thrust he gives you, too wrapped up in the tightness of your warmth to notice how you're so close to cumming, and you try your best to grind your hips to meet his pace.

matt curses beneath your palm as his body jolts suddenly, his eyes widening before rolling to the back of his head behind his foggy glasses, hips snapping forward with one particular hard thrust, and you feel him fill you up with his cum. the sight of his face alone is enough to tip you over the edge, your walls convulsing around his cock as you shudder, your orgasm hitting you like a wave.

you're quivering, unable to stop the light trembles of your body as the euphoric feeling takes its course through your veins with silent cries. matt slumps against your, eyelashes fluttering as she tries to regain his focus, his hand dropping from your mouth to curl around your waist beneath your shirt, the skin on skin contact calming him down.

"you.. you lose," you tease softly through pants, removing your hand from his mouth to touch his cheek and he smiles, leaning into your palm.

"didn't know it was a competition to see who cums first," he licks at his lips before pressing a soft kiss to yours, "does uh, does that mean i won the other times?"

"whatever," you roll your eyes playfully, kissing his lips once more before you mutter. "let's get out of here before someone comes back here and notices.. please."

#©sturnioz #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets smut

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ppomumgranatum · 1 year ago

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truth or dare.

also available on Ao3

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

type: one shot, you POV, house-neutral reader

word count: 6.5k

Rating: M

Warnings: use of profanities, mild sexual content, Intense make out sesh 😳, characters are in their 7th year.

Summary: Truths emerged and friendships were tested as you found yourself confronting two years' worth of suppressed feelings towards Sebastian. Drunk.

It was girls night for you, Imelda, Natty, and Poppy at the Three Broomsticks. The warmth of the crackling fire danced across the cosy interior of the Three Broomsticks as the four of you settled around the table just by it. The mood is relaxed, the air thick with the aroma of butterbeer and laughter. Shirts and ties, usually stiff and proper, now hang loosely as you let yourselves unwind, embracing the comfort of casual company.

Behind the bar, Sirona moved with practised efficiency, her long apron swaying as she poured drinks and served food with a smile. The clinking of glasses and the clatter of plates blend with the lively chatter of the patrons, creating a vibrant symphony of sound that fills the room.

She made her way over to your table not long after Imelda signalled for another round of butterbeer. If anyone was keeping count, it might have been your third glass, and the beverage had everyone feeling increasingly lighter.

The Slytherin quidditch captain suggested that they should play a game of truth or dare, knowing the game would make the night more exciting and perhaps deepen their friendship.

The rules were simple: each of you would take turns spinning a bottle to determine who would be asked the truth or dare. The chosen person would then have to decide between revealing a truth or completing a dare, no matter how daring or embarrassing it might be. If anyone refuses to do so, they must chug their entire glass of butterbeer.

Imelda, always the adventurous one, volunteered to go first. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she spun the bottle and watched eagerly as it came to a stop, pointing straight at Poppy. Without hesitation, she immediately challenged her Hufflepuff friend, “I dare you to dance in the middle of the Tavern.”

Poppy, ever the good sport, rose to the challenge with a laugh, “Natty, I know you’re the Gryffindor, but let me show you bravery.”

With a confident smile, Poppy gracefully made her way to the centre of the bustling tavern. The eyes of the other patrons followed her every move, curious and amused by the unexpected spectacle unfolding before them. She began to dance, her movements fluid and graceful, drawing cheers and applause from the crowd. With each twirl and leap, she seemed to radiate a contagious energy, filling the room with a sense of joy and excitement.

They cheered her friend on from the table, her dare proving to be a testament to Poppy's drunken adventurous spirit and unwavering bravery.

“I can’t believe she’s actually doing it.” you laughed, feeling disbelieved that drunk Poppy is very funny.

“Go Poppy!” Imelda clapped and cheered at her tiny friend who’s twirling in the middle of strangers.

As Poppy completed her final twirl, she accidentally collided with a taller guy, and his arms instinctively encircled her petite waist to steady her, preventing any stumble.

“Oh! Sorry!” As Poppy apologised, she quickly realised the man she had bumped into was none other than Ominis.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but Ominis just chuckled good-naturedly, “Nice moves.”

“T-thanks.” She knew that Ominis was simply being courteous because obviously, he couldn’t have seen her doing all those moves.

“Oi! Poppy, no!” Imelda shouted from across the room, prompting the two people to turn their heads to the loud girl calling out for her “It’s girls night. Come back!”

Poppy chuckled, shaking her head at Imelda's exuberant interruption. "Looks like I'm being summoned," she remarked, casting a playful glance at Ominis before walking away from his embrace. Ominis smiled understandingly as Poppy made her way back to our table, her steps light with amusement.

Your gaze followed Ominis as he made his way back to his own table, and you found yourself locking eyes with Sebastian, who obviously came with his best friend. You were having so much fun with your girls you didn’t notice they were here. You didn’t even know that Sebastian was planning to visit the Three Broomsticks as well.

His piercing gaze held yours for a moment, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and you returned his smile. It felt as if your gut was twisted and turned, in the most enchanting way possible because, Merlin, that man is beautiful as hell.

Natty nudged you to get your attention back and smiled kind of teasingly but you didn’t really bother.

The night went on and the game kept on going. The dares became increasingly daring, you found yourselves caught up in the exhilarating energy of the game, revelling in the thrill of pushing each other outside of our comfort zones.

Natty spun the bottle with a flick of her wrist, the anticipation building as it whirled around before coming to a stop and finally it was finally your turn to take up on the challenge.

A playful smirk danced across Natty's lips as she posed the inevitable question, "Truth or dare?"

“Truth.” You said.

Imelda scoffed and raised her eyebrows in mock surprise at your choice, “I thought the girl who fought goblins and dark wizards to save Hogwarts would be more daring.”

Imelda's playful taunt elicited a round of chuckles from the rest of the group, but you remained unfazed, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. You knew that sometimes the most revealing truths could be just as daring as any physical challenge.

“Don’t worry, I have a good question for this one.” Natty assured, "What's the deal with you and Sebastian?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected question, but you couldn't help but smile at Natty's boldness. The other girls quickly leaned in eagerly, clearly intrigued by the topic.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, feeling a rush of emotions swirling within you. Sebastian had been a constant presence in your life ever since you started your Hogwarts day, his friendship was a source of comfort and strength through both joyous and challenging times. But there’s all to it– friends.

It was not the first time someone threw that question at you. You understood that the close bond you shared with Sebastian might inadvertently lead others to misconstrue your relationship. It wasn't uncommon for people to mistake deep friendships for something more romantic, especially when the connection was as strong as yours and Sebastian's. While you cherished his companionship more than words could express, what you two have was purely platonic.

At least that’s what you like to convince yourself.

Although you’d be lying if you never wondered what it feels like to run your fingers through his brown hair, or how comfortable it would be to rest your head on his chest, or.. how soft his lips might feel against yours. You couldn't deny the allure of such fantasies, the temptation to explore the unknown and experience the intimacy that might lie beyond the boundaries of friendship. But as quickly as the thought had surfaced, you pushed it aside, unwilling to entertain notions that could potentially complicate your relationship with Sebastian.

So in conclusion, do you like Sebastian? Yes.

Will you admit it, even to yourself? No.

But still, you were determined to cherish the friendship you shared with him for all that it was– a source of comfort, support, and hearty companionship. This wasn’t something you’d be willing to risk losing.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you guys, but there’s nothing going on between us.” you lifted your mug to have a sip of your butterbeer as you replied.

“And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you– you’re clearly lying.”

You chuckled at Natty's persistent teasing, her playful banter a familiar soundtrack to your conversations about Sebastian. Despite your repeated assurances, your friends seemed determined to challenge the authenticity of your claims.

With a good-natured shrug, you replied, "Believe what you want, guys, but I assure you, there's nothing romantic."

“Really?” Imelda chimed in, “You’re saying, all of those late night ‘studies’ you often share, those ‘adventures’– for two years, neither of you ever had any momentary lapse?” She pressed on as she made some air quote gestures with her fingers.

Sure, there were stolen glances, and perhaps touches. Not anything raunchy, but like when Sebastian wordlessly reached out and took your hand in his during your walk home from Hogsmeade on a chilly night to keep you comfortable.

Or other moments when Sebastian would act sweet and protective towards you, but you figure it’s all a natural thing. Like how he would come between you and the oncoming attack, shielding you from harm with his own body during your battles with dark wizards. It was merely a fleeting instance of a friend's deep-seated desire to ensure the safety of their companion, just like how you took the Cruciatus curse for him in the scriptorium.

But then again, nothing ever goes beyond any of that. No confessions nor pursuits of something romantic were ever explicitly made. Those moments always dissolved into other lingering echoes of unspoken words.

“Hey, Natty asked the question and I answered.” you stayed persistent with your statement “There is truly nothing.”

“Don’t you wish there was something, though?” Poppy innocently remarked.

Well, isn’t Poppy Sweeting just fucking delightful when she’s drunk, asking all the right fucking questions.

You hesitated, eyes shifted around your friends who were staring at you, anticipating the answer. You couldn't shake the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. They knew you well enough to sense what you were possibly feeling, but as friends who are supposed to be annoying to each other, they just want to hear it coming out of your mouth. The confession– the admittance of your long profound feeling towards the Slytherin boy whose longest relationship was with detention.

Taking a deep breath, you met their gaze with a forced smile, “No, Poppy. Sebastian and I have always been close, but–” You replied as you were trying to choose your next words carefully. "I know you guys want this to be something so bad but I value our friendship too much to risk anything.”

It was a half-truth, a carefully crafted response designed to conceal the true depth of your feelings. The other three shot you a look of disappointment because yet again another lie came out of your mouth.

"Anyway, why is it always about me and Sebastian?" Your frustration bubbled to the surface as you interjected, unable to bear the spotlight focused solely on your relationship with Sebastian. "What about Poppy and Ominis? Aren't they just as obvious as whatever you think is going on with me?”

With a determined edge to your voice, you redirected the conversation, shining a light on the dynamics between Poppy and Ominis. After all, they too shared a close bond that was evident to anyone paying attention. Poppy's cheeks flushed slightly as the attention turned to her.

“Hey, don’t try to change the subject, alright?” she was refusing to have their own relationship coming under the same scrutiny.

There was a momentary silence as Imelda and Natty exchanged glances, like a sudden moment of realisation dawning upon them that they also don’t know much about what’s going on with Poppy.

“So..” Natty carefully started, “Have you guys kissed yet?”

“Stop it.” Poppy insisted.

Imelda chimed in, her tone light but her question holding a curious edge. "You know what I always ponder about?" she mused, her eyes flicking between her friends. "If he's blind, do you reckon he'd still know where.. everything is?" Her hand swept in a casual arc, encompassing Poppy's figure in a playful gesture.

“Imelda Reyes!” Poppy’s eyes widened in disbelief at her friend's vulgar question. You and Natty could only let out a satisfied laugh at the remark. Imelda shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she revelled in the reaction she had elicited. It was moments like these that reminded you all of the genuine bond you shared, forged through laughter, support, and the occasional inappropriate joke.

The banter continued unabated, with Imelda persistently needling the annoyed Poppy, her playful jabs met with a mixture of exasperation and reluctant amusement. Meanwhile, Natty, ever the peacemaker, interjected with lighthearted comments and gentle nudges to steer the conversation away from the edge of tension.

As you watched the amusing interactions among your friends, you realised that your glass was running empty. So you took a final chug at the remaining butterbeer and excused yourself from the lively conversation. You made your way to the bar, eager to replenish your beverage.

At the bar, you signalled Sirona for another round, patiently waiting as she bustled about, attending to the needs of other patrons. Leaning casually against the polished wood, you watched as she deftly mixed drinks and served customers.

In the midst of your wait, a man sidled up beside you. You took a glance at him and realised it was a Ravenclaw student, Andrew Larson. A charming grin played on his lips and you returned his smile. He raised his hand to catch Sirona's attention, signalling his order with a casual wave. With a quick nod and a warm smile, she acknowledged him before returning to her tasks. As Andrew turned back to you, his gaze lingering a moment longer.

“Hi." he greeted, "Haven't had the pleasure of seeing you around here lately.”

You returned his greeting with a warm smile. “Well, it’s our final year, with the N.E.W.T coming up–” She sighed, “You’re a Ravenclaw, you know the rest.” As a resident of the house that embraces learning, she figured he would be able to relate the most.

Andrew's charming grin widened at your response, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Well, I'm glad you’re here now." he said, his voice smooth and easygoing. "This place is always more enjoyable with good company."

Did he just.. flirt with you?

The hottie of Ravenclaw– the tall, broad shoulder, blonde, Andrew Larson was flirting with you? It was flattering, surely, but your heart wasn’t exactly there.

“Can I get you–” As he was about to offer you a drink, Sirona came with your fully filled mug of butterbeer. Andrew halted his sentence, a bit embarrassed, but made quite the quick comeback “something else from the bar? Snack, maybe? Or more drinks?”

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as you noticed Andrew's flustered reaction to the unexpected arrival of your butterbeer. It was clear that he had been planning to offer to buy you a drink, only to be thwarted by Sirona's timely arrival.

"Actually, I think I'm all set for now," you replied with a grateful smile, gesturing to the mug of butterbeer in front of you. "But thank you for the offer."

“Are you sure?” He persisted.

“Yes, Andrew.” You gave him your warmest and sincere smile.

Andrew nodded understandingly, a faint blush still lingering on his cheeks as he recovered quickly from the momentary embarrassment. "Well, if you change your mind–”

“I don’t think she will, mate.” Before Andrew could finish his sentence, Sebastian's voice cut through the air, his presence suddenly dominating the scene. He leaned casually against the bar, his arm resting just behind your back. It almost felt like he was about to embrace you, his proximity drawing you in.

With Sebastian's taller frame towering over you, it felt like your face was almost nestled somewhere around the crook of his neck. Amidst the chatter of the tavern and the scent of butterbeer, you couldn't help but catch a whiff of his cologne—a captivating blend of fresh, woody, and spicy notes that seemed to envelop you in its seductive aura.

“Excuse me?” The sweet and soft look on Andrew’s face was replaced by a subtle hint of defensiveness.

“She doesn’t want anything from you, so.. run along, Larson.”

Caught between the two men, you felt a surge of unease wash over you, unsure of how to diffuse the tension that hung thick in the air. Andrew didn’t even bother to argue with Sebastian, he just excused himself and the two of you were left alone.

Your hand instinctively reached out to smack Sebastian's chest, the action fueled by a mixture of frustration and confusion. "What the fuck was that?" you demanded, your voice low but laced with an undercurrent of anger.

Sebastian flinched slightly at the unexpected gesture, his expression shifting from defensiveness to contrition. "I was just trying to protect you from that undoubtedly sleazy guy who's trying to worm his way into your clothes. You're welcome."

"What?" you exclaimed, caught off guard by Sebastian's blunt statement.

"It's Andrew Larson," Sebastian clarified.

Your face twisted into a puzzled expression as Sebastian stated the obvious, and you replied sarcastically, "Oh, pardon me, I thought it was Ominis."

Sebastian rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You know how he is."

Sure, whispers were circulating about Andrew, portraying him as a womaniser whose primary goal was to seduce as many girls as he could. But you weren't some naive ingénue who could easily be swayed by sweet words and charm. Despite feeling flattered by Andrew's attention earlier, you were offended by the implication from Sebastian, of all people, that you were incapable of protecting yourself. After all the battles you've faced and triumphed over, you knew you were more than capable of handling any advances or situations that came your way.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes in response, a mixture of annoyance and amusement bubbling within you. It was typical of Sebastian to jump to conclusions and assume the worst about others, especially when it came to your interactions with guys.

"Yeah, I know," you replied, your tone tinged with sarcasm. "Because Andrew is clearly the biggest threat to my virtue in this entire tavern."

“Merlin, did your butterbeer contain five percent alcohol and ninety-five percent sarcasm?” Sebastian let out an exasperated sigh as his frustration was evident in the way he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm just looking out for you, okay?" he muttered, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

You softened slightly at his words, "I’m sorry," you said while offering him a small smile of reassurance. "But, maybe I wanted to be swayed and flirted with by some cute guy tonight.” Those last statements came out a bit soft but Sebastian could still hear it.

Sebastian chuckled softly at your admission, his eyes softening with amusement as he took in your slightly flushed cheeks and the playful glint in your eyes. "Wow, you're really drunk, aren't you?" he teased gently, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You grinned sheepishly in response, nodding slightly. "A little bit, yeah," you admitted, feeling a surge of warmth spreading through you at his lighthearted response.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you caught Sebastian's intense gaze locked onto yours. There was something magnetic about the way his eyes bore into yours, drawing you in with an almost hypnotic allure.

His appearance only added to the intensity of the moment. His hair was tousled in a way that made him look effortlessly handsome, his shirt untucked and his tie slightly loosened, giving him a casual yet undeniably appealing air. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing the veins in his arms, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of attraction deep in your chest.

Merlin's sake, he looked so hot.

For a moment, you found yourself momentarily lost in the depths of his gaze, captivated by the raw energy that seemed to radiate from him. It was as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

"So, you girls having fun?" Sebastian asked with a casual tonel as he attempted to steer the conversation back to lighter topics.

You nodded, grateful for the change in subject. "Uh, yeah, we're just playing truth or dare," you replied, gesturing towards the table where your friends were gathered.

Sebastian's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Oh, is that why Poppy randomly started dancing then?" he asked, a hint of amusement colouring his voice.

“Yeah, something like that," You chuckled. “Anyway I think I should go back before Imelda starts screaming at me.”

Sebastian nodded in understanding, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, probably a good idea," he agreed. "I'll see you around?"

You returned his smile with a nod, feeling a sense of warmth and gratitude wash over you. "Definitely." you replied with genuine affection.

It sounded like an assurance– like a promise that you will always be around.

As you rejoined the lively group at the table, the warmth of Sebastian's presence lingered in the back of your mind. Immediately, you were greeted by a chorus of playful cheers and teasing remarks from your friends. Imelda, in particular, couldn't resist the opportunity to poke fun at your brief absence, teasing and winking suggestively in Sebastian’s direction.

You knew this would just add more fuel to the fire of assumptions your friends are already burning. Your cheeks flushed at the teasing, but you couldn't help but laugh along with them. Throughout the night, amidst the laughter and banter, you couldn't help but steal glances at Sebastian, who was seated across the room. His presence seemed to draw you in like a magnet, and no matter how hard you tried to focus on the conversation at hand, your gaze would inevitably wander back to him.

It’s getting late, and your group is getting aggressively more drunk. Everyone was so out of place, Imelda, with her usual flair for the dramatic, had climbed onto a nearby chair, belting out a tune that she had seemingly composed on the spot. Her voice echoed through the tavern, a mix of off-key notes and drunken enthusiasm that drew both cheers and laughter from the patrons.

Natty, meanwhile, had succumbed to the effects of the alcohol, her head resting on the table as she dozed off into a peaceful slumber. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your friend, her normally lively demeanour replaced by the serene expression of someone lost in dreams.

And Poppy– oh dear, sweet, Poppy, was sitting on Ominis’ lap with her tongue down his throat. you caught Sebastian's eye, and you couldn't help but give him a sympathetic look. But to your surprise, he simply shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. It seemed that even he couldn't resist feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the sight of his best friend finding some unexpected romance amidst the chaos of the night.

With a chuckle, you shook your head in amusement, realising that despite the drunken antics and the questionable decisions, nights like these were what memories were made of.

Despite your best efforts to keep up, you found yourself feeling increasingly out of sync with the chaotic energy of the group. The alcohol seemed to weigh heavily on your senses, dulling your reactions and leaving you feeling disconnected from the revelry around you.

You noticed Sirona, the bartender, casting concerned glances in your direction. Her furrowed brow and subtle gestures of worry did not go unnoticed amidst the chaos of the tavern.

Finally, she approached your table, her expression a mix of concern and gentle determination. "I hate to interrupt the fun, but perhaps it's time for you all to call it a night." she said softly, her voice carrying a note of genuine care.

With a sigh of resignation, you understood that it was up to you to take charge and ensure your friends made it home safely. Despite Poppy's protests, you gently coaxed her away from Ominis' embrace, linking arms with her as you led the group out of the tavern.

As you walked, Poppy violently let go of your arm and ran to stroll by Ominis’ side, their laughter and whispered conversations filling the night air. Imelda and Natty stumbled along behind them, their steps unsteady but their spirits high as they chatted and laughed amongst themselves.

Bringing up the rear, you found yourself walking alongside Sebastian, the two of you trailing behind the rest of the group. You were stumbling a little bit so you reached out instinctively to steady yourself, grasping onto Sebastian's arm for support. Your fingers wrapped around his muscled and strong biceps, finding purchase in the solidity of his frame.

"Whoa, easy there," he chuckled, his voice warm and amused as he shifted slightly to support your weight. "Looks like someone's had a bit too much to drink."

You couldn't help but laugh at his teasing, the sound echoing through the quiet streets of Hogsmeade. "Guilty as charged." you admitted, leaning into his solid presence as you regained your balance.

You couldn't help but blush at the unexpected closeness, the warmth of his touch sending more heat to your face. You still have your arms tightly secured around him as you navigate the streets of Hogsmeade together. As you and Sebastian walked, your pace noticeably slower than the others, you watched as your friends gradually disappeared ahead of you. Imelda's infectious laughter echoed down the street, followed by the soft murmur of some other conversations.

“Hey, let’s play truth or dare.” you proposed, a mischievous twinkle in your eye as you glanced at Sebastian.

Sebastian chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, I don't know if I'm ready to share all of my secrets." he teased.

You chuckled at his remark, the alcohol still coursing through your veins lending a sense of boldness to your suggestion. "Come on, it'll be fun."

Sebastian's lips curled into a smirk, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Alright, you go first. Truth or dare?”

You paused for a moment, considering your options before finally replying, "Dare."

A mischievous grin spread across Sebastian’s face as he formulated a challenge. "I dare you to.. serenade the next person we pass on this street.”

You scoffed at the challenge, deeming it far too easy to pass up. As an older gentleman, dressed impeccably in a top hat and proper suit, approached, you seized the opportunity. Stepping boldly in front of him, you launched into a spontaneous serenade, belting out a random song from the depths of your imagination.

The man's reaction was one of sheer bewilderment, his eyes widening in disbelief as he continued walking, shooting you a perplexed glance over his shoulder. But you were undeterred by his reaction, pouring your heart and soul into the impromptu performance.

Sebastian couldn't contain his laughter, doubling over with amusement as he watched the scene unfold. With a grin, he pulled you away from the bemused gentleman before things got too out of hand and you got reported for harassment. "Alright, you lunatic," he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "That was not too shabby."

You grinned triumphantly as you kept on walking, feeling a rush of exhilaration at having completed the dare. "Hey, I aim to please." you replied, your voice filled with satisfaction.

As the two of you continued down the street, still chuckling at the absurdity of the situation.

"Okay, your turn." you said to Sebastian.

"Truth." Sebastian replied, his expression curious yet composed.

You hummed thoughtfully, considering your question carefully before finally deciding on one that would test the waters. "Do you think I'm pretty?" you asked, your voice tinged with playfulness.

Sebastian's eyebrows shot up in surprise, caught off guard by the unexpected question. He paused for a moment, his gaze searching yours before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Of course," he replied sincerely, his voice soft yet earnest. "I think you’re beautiful."

You hummed in amusement and couldn't suppress a giggle. "I think you're beautiful, too, Sebastian Sallow." you admitted, feeling a rush of warmth at the confession. As you rested your head on his arm, a comfortable silence settled between you.

He chuckled at the sight of your sly face leaning on his arm and eyes could barely manage to stay open “You’re so drunk.”

“I told you I wanted to be swayed by a cute guy tonight.” you mumbled, your words slurred slightly from the effects of the alcohol.

"I think you've had enough swaying for one night," he teased, his voice warm and affectionate.

You let out a soft giggle in response, the alcohol making everything feel hazy and surreal. "Maybe," you conceded with a playful grin. "But it's your turn. Quick.”

“Fine. Dare me.”

“Alright,” you replied. This time, you took your time considering what dare to give him. You want to make sure that you’re optimising this opportunity. You didn’t know what had gotten into your head aside from the obvious alcohol, but spurred on by a sudden surge of courage, you somehow managed to say, “I dare you to kiss me.”

Sebastian laughed at your request, and thought you were kidding, but it quickly died down and stopped at his feet when he saw your face looking serious “Wait, you’re serious?”

You held his gaze steadily, “Yes.” Despite the sudden rush of nerves coursing through your veins, you stood your ground, determined to see this dare through. “Kiss me.”

His expression shifted from amusement to something more contemplative, like his eyes were searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But your gaze was unwavering as if urging him to finally close the distance you’ve been dreaming to perish.

Sebastian took a step closer and lifted your chin with his finger to get a better view of your lips. As he leaned in closer, you closed your eyes in anticipation of your first kiss with Sebastian, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. When his lips finally met yours, there was a surge of energy coursing through your entire body, sending shivers down your spine.

It was a soft and tender kiss, nothing deep, but it filled with emotion that had been kept away for two years. It was truly a moment that took your breath away. Surrounded by the quiet beauty of the night, you felt a connection between you and Sebastian that transcended words. It was as if the universe had aligned just for this moment, bringing the two of you together in perfect harmony.

He pulled away, and your gazes locked. You could tell his breathing was shallow from the nerves. The look on his eyes was something you’ve never seen before like a mixture of desire, longing, and a hint of vulnerability. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to devour you– to be lost in you with passion.

In that moment, you felt a surge of boldness coursing through you, fueled by the electric connection between you and Sebastian. Without hesitation, you reached out, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips crashing together in a fierce and hungry kiss. It was like a wildfire consuming you both, igniting a passion that burned hotter with each passing moment.

Sebastian wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer until your bodies were pressed tightly together. A soft moan escaped your lips as you felt the heat of his touch. It was as if every nerve in your body was alight with lust, and you couldn't help but respond to the intensity of the moment.

As if spurred on by the sound of your moan, Sebastian deepened the kiss, his lips moving with a hunger that matched your own. You felt his crave coursing through him, a raw and primal energy that left you breathless and wanting more.

Without hesitation, you parted your lips, inviting him to explore the depths of your mouth with his tongue. Sebastian tilted his head so he could gain better access. It was a dance of passion that's been kept away for two years and each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

It was truly magical, and sensual even. You didn’t care about the fact that the two of you were standing in the middle of the road or if someone passed by and stared, because in that moment, it truly felt like you finally owned each other. It made you think of all the sinful things you wanted him to do to you and It was as if a silent understanding passed between you, a shared desire that fueled the intensity of the kiss. Without a word, Sebastian guided you backwards until your back met the sturdy trunk of a tree by the roadside.

As his lips trailed along your jaw, ear, and down to your neck, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the sensation of his touch. Every brush of his lips against your skin sent heat to your loin. When his hand found its way to your breast, cupping and squeezing it with a firm yet gentle touch, you couldn't contain the moan that escaped your lips. Your body truly felt as if it was on fire, craving his touch with an intensity that left you breathless.

Instinctively, you lifted your leg to his side, drawing him closer and inviting him to explore further. The consuming lusts between you was fucking evident.

As Sebastian's hand explored your chest, eliciting waves of pleasure with each touch, you couldn't help but release another soft moan of pleasure “Oh.. Sebastian..”

At the call of his name, it was as if a sudden wake-up call had jolted Sebastian out of the passionate haze. He pulled away abruptly, his gaze locking with yours, his eyes filled with a mix of realisation and apprehension. In that moment, it was as if the weight of what had just transpired between you both crashed down on him like a ton of bricks.

All you could think about was the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, the realisation dawning on you that your friendship with Sebastian was officially ruined. The two of you were breathless and exhilarated. Your lips swollen and tingling with the remnants of his touch.

He took a couple of steps back away from you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you screamed in your head. He remained silent, his eyes locked on yours, leaving you to wonder what the fuck was going on? Was he regretting it? The uncertainty gnawed at you, and you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you as you tried to decipher the expression on his face. It was like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping in.

“Sebastian..” you whispered.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said as he looked away, “I didn’t mean to..”

“It’s okay..” You replied.

Your words echoed in the silence that followed, and you felt a pang of disappointment wash over you. It was as if reality had come crashing down, shattering the illusion of the moment you had shared together. But then, unable to resist the urge to seek reassurance, you blurted out the question that had been lingering in your mind. "Do you like me?"

Sebastian's expression softened as he looked back at you, his eyes searching yours with a depth that sent a flutter through your chest. “Of course, I do.” He replied rather softly.

“Like a friend?”

A lump formed in Sebastian’s throat, making it hard for him to swallow as nervousness crept over him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation they were about to have. “Well, friends don’t do the things that we just did, do they?”

“Not really.” You replied. The weight of his words sobering you up almost instantly. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the stark reality of the situation between you.

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions, each of you grappling with the implications of what had just transpired. You took a deep breath and with a shaky hand, you reached up to straighten your messy shirt and ran your fingers through your dishevelled hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"Do you want it to be more than just a friend?" he finally managed to say.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his question, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. You looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability reflected in them, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. “Do you want it to be?”

“I asked you first.” He quickly and assertively interjected, “Do you want it to be something more?”

"Yes," you replied softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart. "Yes, I do."

"Then, how come you never said anything?" he asked, his tone tinged with a mixture of frustration and longing.

“How come you never said anything?”

He felt a pang of guilt at his words, realising that he had been holding back his true feelings for far too long. "How was I supposed to know?" he shot back, your voice tinged with defensiveness.

"Oh, because we've only been hanging out together every day for two years, we shared countless life and death moments, was that not enough?" you added sarcastically, the weight of your unspoken emotions finally surfacing. “Am I.. not enough?”

Sebastian's expression softened at your words, a look of understanding crossing his features. He took a step closer. "You are more than enough," he said softly and his voice was filled with sincerity. "You are everything to me."

“Everyone wonders why we aren’t together,” you echoed softly. “Well, little did they know I also wondered the same thing.” You looked up at Sebastian, meeting his gaze with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. And as you stood there, lost in each other's eyes, you could find everything you’ve ever wanted.

He took another step forward, “I want you.” and another, until he could reach out to caress your cheek, “I’ve always wanted you ever since you kicked my ass in Hecat’s class.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his response, a mixture of relief and joy bubbling up inside you. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and suddenly, everything felt right in the world. His fingers tracing the curve of your jaw with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. In that moment, all the doubts and fears that had plagued you seemed to fade away.

“I want to love you.. to feel you..” He continued, “Way more than what we just did.” He smiled, but you could tell he was a little bit nervous.

"Well, you made me wait two years," you teased gently, a playful glint in your eye. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

Sebastian's smile widened at your response, a sense of relief washing over him as he realised that you felt the same way. In that moment, you knew that you were both ready to take the next step in your relationship, to explore the depths of your love together with open hearts and open minds.

And as you leaned in to capture his lips in a tender kiss, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement for the journey that lay ahead. With Sebastianfinally by your side, you know everything is going to be great.

#sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom

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theemporium · 1 year ago

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[7.6k] jack totally wasn't in love with his frat's president. and he totally wasn't in love with his president's girlfriend. and this totally isn't the story of how the three of them realised they fell in love with each other. (smut)

“Really?”

You bit back the grin threatening to take over your face, attempting to school your features to a neutral expression as you glanced down at the textbook opened up in front of you. You let out a hum in response, but didn’t glance over at your boyfriend who was sprawled on his bed a few feet away from you.

“You are a menace.”

You glanced over your shoulder, finding Nico already staring back at you with an amused expression on his face—despite what his downturned frowning lips said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you answered eventually with an innocent look.

Nico shot you a look. “Baby.”

“Nico,” you retorted in the same serious tone.

A few moments passed before he looked away, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he glanced down at his phone. “He’s going to get such a big head if he sees this,” he murmured, though there was something fond in his voice. “God knows Jack doesn’t need a bigger head.”

You raised your brows. “Does that mean you’re gonna keep it?”

“You’ll just change it back anyways,” Nico retorted, and you didn’t disagree with him.

Instead, you stood up from the seat by his desk where you had been studying before he came in from class around thirty minutes ago. You made your way towards the bed, not even fighting your boyfriend as he reached for you and tugged you to lay on top of him. You propped your head on his chest, grinning at him.

“The contact name fits him and you know it does,” you said in a knowing voice.

“Favourite Pledge is hardly a creative name anyways,” Nico deflected, but you saw right through him.

One of the things you loved about Nico Hischier was his loyalty. It was one of those defining traits that made you fall more in love with him than you ever deemed humanly possible. He was loyal to his family, to his friends, to anyone that meant the world to him. His heart was split, little pieces given to those he trusted with it and the whole frat inevitability was a part of that.

He loved his frat brothers. He loved them when he first joined. He loved them as more of them entered and pledged. He loved them when they appointed him president, even when he was just a sophomore. The frat loved him as much as he loved them.

But it was an undeniable fact to anyone with working eyes that he had a soft spot for the new pledge, Jack Hughes.

He didn’t admit it out loud. He always claimed to love his brothers equally, that it was impossible to have favourites. Though, you knew he just felt a little bad about it. He felt guilty that the younger boy had claimed a little bit more of his heart than the other frat brothers had.

Yet, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, Jack Hughes had wiggled his way into his heart.

You knew it stemmed from the fact the Swiss saw a bit of himself in the boy. Though Nico adored the frat and the community it gave him, he wasn’t shy of the fact he only joined to follow his older brother’s footsteps—something Jack himself had also done.

The fact Jack had also tried out for the university’s hockey team—and was incredibly talented on the ice—was the final nail in the coffin for Nico (even if he still tried to deny the coffin existed).

“But it’s true,” you sang with a smug look on your face.

Nico rolled his eyes but the action was fond. “He was gonna grab some coffee on his way back from class, do you want anything?”

“The usual,” you answered, leaning down to peck his lips before you moved to sit back at his desk. “Oh, ask him if he can get one of those muffins too. The lemon one.”

There was a pause as Nico typed out his reply before he snorted. “He said he already picked one up for you.”

Your expression brightened. “Well, if he isn’t your favourite pledge, then he definitely is mine.”

Nico shook his head. “So now you’re stealing him from me?’

“Is this you admitting he’s your favourite pledge?” You retorted.

A few moments of silence passed, neither one of you saying anything nor looking away. Seconds ticked by, Nico’s phone continued to buzz on the bed and a ping sounded from your laptop when an email came through. But still, neither one of you looked away.

Until the buzzing became more insistent and Nico’s eyes snapped down to look at his screen, something fond in his gaze as messages about Jack complaining on how long the coffee was taking came through.

“Ha! I was right!” You grinned, clapping your hands together but Nico didn’t have it in him to argue this time.

He had shifted to sit with his back against the headboard and his laptop lying across his thighs when Jack finally burst through the bedroom door fifteen minutes later, holding a carrier of coffees and a bag of sweet treats.

“Miss me?”

You turned to see Jack already beginning to make himself comfortable as he dumped his backpack by the door and toed off his shoes. He handed you your coffee first with the lemon muffin in his other hand. “Mrs President.”

You snorted. “Thank you, Jack.”

He beamed before he grabbed Nico’s coffee and the cookie Nico pretended not to like (even though he really, really did). “Mr President.”

“You’re in a chipper mood today,” Nico noted as he thanked the younger boy, taking the coffee and cookie to place on the bedside table beside him. He then turned towards Jack again, mouth open like he was about to say something—only for Jack to faceplant down on the bed the second the coffee was out of his hands. “You good?”

“Tired,” he grumbled, his words muffled with his face buried into the duvet. “Plus, algebra sucks.”

Nico’s face softened a little. “You should take a nap, we have a big game later.”

“M’fine,” he murmured in response, but it convinced no one.

“Sleep, Jack,” you said as you glanced at the boy, his eyes already shut but his shoulders tense like he was preparing himself to sit up again. “You can nap here.”

Jack froze before lifting his head, blinking slowly as he stared between you and Nico. “Really?”

“Sleep here,” Nico confirmed with a nod, reaching over to playfully ruffle his hair. However, the act just made Jack slump back down onto the bed, his face buried in the duvet once again. “I’ll wake you up so we can eat before the game.”

“M’kay,” he managed to mutter out, seconds away from falling asleep.

Nico watched with a small smile before he grabbed a blanket, placing it over Jack and making sure he was settled before he grabbed his laptop to work again. He cleared his throat a little, though the smile never left his face as he began to type away.

“Oh, you’re so obvious,” you murmured with a snort.

Nico glanced up at you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hm, I’m sure,” you mused as you settled back in your chair. “So, you’d just let anyone nap on your bed? With your favourite blanket?”

He shot you a look. “I let you do it all the time.”

Your grin widened. “Exactly.”

Nico rolled his eyes, refusing to continue the conversation any further. And because you were a nice girlfriend, you chose not to mention the light pink tint to his cheeks. Or the fond smiles Nico would give Jack whenever he glanced over.

Or the photo you snuck of the two of them, curled up and looking so comfy in bed together.

…

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, the boys smashed the game with a 7-1 win to continue their nine game win streak.

And to celebrate their win, the frat decided to hold a massive—and last minute—rager in honour of Nico, Jack and the rest of the hockey team. Though, you weren’t convinced it was as last minute as Trevor made it out to be considering the kegs were definitely being delivered to the house before you left to go watch the game.

The house was packed with frat brothers, hockey teammates and strangers alike, with no real invitation but with an overwhelming need to celebrate by getting shit-faced drunk nonetheless. Music was blasting from the countless speakers set around the house, every open surface looked like an Ibiza bar with bottles sprawled across it and the hockey boys were getting their chance to really celebrate with no practice or game until next week holding them back.

“Drink up, Mrs P!”

You bit back your laugh as you inspected the cup Trevor was handing you. His cheeks were flushed, his grin was huge and you had no doubt that whatever was in the cup was the result of him and Cole concocting their own makeshift cocktails to get people as drunk as they were.

“Do I even want to know what’s in this?” You questioned, a teasing glint in your voice as you sniffed the cup.

Trevor didn’t even look bashful. “Don’t worry, we made sure to add more of Nico’s fancy Swiss lager in yours. He can’t get mad at us then.”

You actually did laugh this time. “You boys need to stop putting me in the crossfire. He’s your president.”

“And you’re our Mrs President,” Trevor retorted. “It’s literally your job to stop him from killing us.”

“I don’t remember signing up for this.”

“You do it because you love us?” Trevor replied, a boyish grin on his face that made your heart warm in your chest.

“Yeah, I do love you idiots,” you grumbled, though there was a smile on your face as you patted his cheek, amused at the way his grin widened at the action.

“Maybe some of us more than others,” he supplied, something mischievous glinting in his eyes.

You sighed. “Trevor, if this is about me giving Cole the last slice of apple pie—”

“I’m talking about Jack and we both know it.” he sang, delighted in the way you quickly stopped talking. “I see the way you and Nico look at him.”

You frowned a little. “We don’t love him more than we love the rest of you—”

“You love the rest of us like we are your kids,” Trevor corrected, still thoroughly amused by the conversation. “You and Nico look at Jack like you want to sleep with him.”

You let out a startled laugh. “Trev—”

“And he looks like he would take anything you give him,” the boy continued, looking far too smug at the way you trapped your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don’t worry, Mrs P, I’ll keep your secret.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before the boy had wandered off, disappearing into the throng of partygoers. Though, if you were being completely honest with yourself, you weren’t even sure what you would have replied with. Maybe it was a blessing he walked away first.

“You good?”

You blinked before turning your head, finding Nico standing there with his brows furrowed in concern. You could feel his hand on your lower back, a soft and comforting touch that you leaned into.

“Yeah,” you said and flashed him a smile. “Just contemplating if I want to risk drinking whatever Trevor and Cole made me.”

Nico snorted but it was fond. “I’ll hold your hair back later if you risk it.”

You grinned. “My hero.”

“Always,” Nico grinned back, leaning down to peck your lips before he dragged you back to the party in the direction of the back garden where the hockey team seemed to have accumulated.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried, Trevor’s words lingered with you for the rest of the party, playing on a loop you couldn’t stop.

…

The irony of it all was that you knew, deep down, Trevor was right.

It shouldn’t have been a shock when it was something you had been aware of for a while, even subconsciously. As much as you teased and taunted Nico, there was something different about Jack in comparison to the other pledges and frat brothers. It wasn’t a favouritism, it went beyond that. There was something more with Jack, something deeper.

And you always knew it.

It just took the realisation that other people—that Trevor—had noticed it too. It wasn’t this secret hidden in your heart or an inside joke between you and Nico, it was beyond that. Your feelings weren’t as subtle as you thought. And neither were Nico’s. And apparently neither were Jacks’.

Everyone saw it but you three, and now you were painfully aware and pining.

Because that was the only way you could describe how you had felt since the party. You had been pining after Jack. It was like the conversation with Trevor opened the box you had desperately been locking shut, and now you were overwhelmed with your feelings for the younger boy.

And Nico noticed too.

He hadn’t mentioned it, not directly. But he noticed a shift in you since the party. He noticed the way your eyes lingered on Jack a little longer than usual when he walked in a room. He noticed the way you seemed to drag Jack to sit with the two of you whenever you got the chance. He noticed the way your touch would linger on Jack, the way you did with him.

It made his stomach twist with a desire he didn’t know was possible, he didn’t know he wanted.

It was enthralling to watch you watch Jack, to watch you look at Jack the same way you look at him. Maybe because he knew he was no different. He knew it was all leading to something, you did too.

Neither of you expected it to happen just two weeks after the party when the frat found themselves at the campus bar on a random Thursday.

It was somewhere between your second and third drink. The frat were spread across the establishment: some were by the bar chatting with some strangers, others were playing pool on the tables at the back, the rest were sprawled over the booths and seats around the room.

You had settled on a small couch, a vodka rum in hand as you watched Trevor and Cole attempt to talk up some girls from one of their shared classes a few feet away. Trevor had been insistent he could get their numbers, and Cole had just wanted to be close enough to see the trainwreck. And you had thoroughly enjoyed watching them both.

“Budge up!”

You let out a small huff when Jack unexpectedly collapsed onto the couch beside you, but you didn’t argue as you shifted until you were both squished together. Your thigh was pressed against his, your shoulders shoved together, but neither of you moved away even if there was enough space on the couch to put a few inches between you.

“You seem chipper,” you commented, eyeing the flush to his cheeks and the grin on his face. You wonder how many beers one of the older brothers had slipped him through the night.

“Just handed Turc’s ass in pool,” Jack told you, puffing his chest proudly.

“That’s shocking considering you’re shit,” you teased, nudging into his side a little.

“Hey, that was an unfair advantage one time!” Jack huffed, but he was still smiling. “Nico was cheating.”

You snorted. “How?”

“I don’t know but nobody is naturally that good at pool,” he grumbled as he shifted back into the couch, his body sagging like the night was starting to catch up on him. “I think we should team up.”

You raised your brows. “To what? Beat him at pool?”

“Mhm,” Jack nodded in confirmation. “We could distract him.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” You questioned, thoroughly amused.

“I think our pretty faces are enough,” he answered confidently. “Bat a couple eyelashes, maybe throw a few flirty comments in there and he’ll be useless.”

This time you actually laughed and Jack’s smile widened at the sound.

“What? You don’t think I could do it?”

“Oh no, I think you could and you’d be dangerous,” you assured him, shifting in your seat until your body was facing him. “I think my flirting would be lacklustre in comparison to yours.”

He gave you a small shove. “Nah, you have him wrapped around your finger. He would fold at whatever you said.”

Almost instinctively, your eyes began searching the bar for your boyfriend before you found him on the other side of the room. He was standing by one of the pool tables, leaning against the cue as he watched Jesper take a shot with a fond smile on his face. He looked laid back, his flannel abandoned somewhere to leave him in the tight-fitting t-shirt, his cap placed backwards on his head to keep his hair out of his face. He looked relaxed, young even. Like he didn’t have the responsibility of a frat, hockey and college on his mind.

And like he could sense you, his eyes turned to look at you and his smile widened. He glanced at you, and then the boy beside you, before his gaze returned to you.

And then, the little fucker winked.

“See,” Jack said, laughing a little but it sounded off.

You turned back to look at Jack, finding his eyes still locked on Nico. You noticed the slight flush to his cheeks, and a part of you wondered if he was just as affected by your boyfriend as you were. You wondered how long you had been oblivious to it if this was how he was staring at Nico. You wondered if he looked at you the same way.

“He’s no better with you,” you eventually spoke, watching as his eyes quickly snapped back to you. His cheeks went redder. “Don’t underestimate that pretty face of yours.”

And you could see the cogs turning in his head. You could see him picking apart your words, can see the way he shifts in his spot. And you can see the way he tries to act like it doesn’t affect him when it does.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Because he’s Jack and when things get overwhelming, he resorts to some weird mix of joking and flirting because it feels safer than whatever the truth is. Because you knew as much as he wanted to believe you, he couldn’t quite admit it out loud yet, admit it to himself.

And you also knew he sometimes just needed a push in the right direction.

“I think,” you started as you lifted your hand, hesitating for a small moment before you pushed your fingers through his hair. You watched his eyes flutter shut, his body leaning further into your touch. “You’re one of the prettiest people I know.”

He gulped a little, blinking his eyes open. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a nod.

And maybe it was the newfound realisation of your feelings. Or maybe it was the confidence you felt in the way he stared at you, like you hung the fucking moon. Or maybe it was a cumulation of the alcohol you had drunk since you arrived that fuelled it all.

You weren’t sure what it was.

But his eyes dropped to your lips for a few seconds too long and the next thing you knew, you were leaning in and pressing your lips against his.

Your hand dropped to cup his cheek, the growing stubble brushed against your palm as you deepened the kiss. He let out a noise, something sweet and whiny and you wanted to bottle it up to listen to it forever. He let you guide the kiss, let you take control as your tongue swiped along his bottom lip.

His eyes were still shut when you parted for a few seconds. But yours were open and staring just past his head, where Nico was standing.

He was already staring at you, both of you. And you knew he wouldn’t be mad, but there was still something about the pure lust and want in his gaze that made your stomach dip. The way his lips twitched upwards when he saw you staring back, the way he nodded his head a little like it was a challenge.

He was halfway across the room and, yet, still seemed to be enjoying this as much as the two of you.

But before you could even bring yourself to take him up on his challenge, before you could close the distance between you and Jack and kiss him again, he was pulling away completely.

“Shit,” he breathed out, his wide eyes staring at you with an expression full of surprise and shock.

Your brows furrowed. “Jack?”

“Shit,” he repeated, and you barely had a chance to wrap your head around any of it before he was quickly standing up. He stared at you, his face scrunched up and his lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t seem to find the words.

“Jack,” you called out, your voice soft and concerned as you reached out for him but he jerked away from the touch.

“I am so sorry,” was all he managed to get out before he made a beeline towards the door.

You watched him rush out like he was being chased before your head turned, finding Nico watching the exit with a mixed expression of hurt and concern.

And as you stood there, in the middle of the bar, feeling oddly cold and confused about the last thirty seconds, you couldn’t help but feel like you fucked something up without realising it.

…

Jack was avoiding you.

He thought he was being subtle with it, but it was clear to everyone what was happening. He was hardly in the house anymore unless it was to sleep. And even then, he was still going out of his way to leave insanely early and come back very late. You hardly even saw him on campus.

You hardly saw him at all.

And it was one thing if he was avoiding you, but he was avoiding Nico too and you could tell it was hurting him. You could tell it bothered him that Jack was hardly around the house, that he was having to get updates from Trevor or the other boys, that he went out of his way to avoid Nico at hockey practice too.

It hurt and everyone could see the three of you suffering, but Trevor the worst.

“He thinks you hate him,” the boy said one day when you were in the kitchen, pushing your pasta around your plate with no real appetite to eat.

You frowned. “What?”

“Jack thinks you and Nico hate him because of what happened at the bar,” Trevor continued, shrugging his shoulders. “Something about making you kiss him and getting between your relationship.”

Your frown deepened. “But I kissed him. Not the other way around.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not how he sees it,” Trevor muttered, the usual smile on his face replaced with a concerned frown. “He thinks Nico is going to kick him out the frat.”

You dropped your fork. “What? That’s insane! Nico would never do that.”

“That’s what he believes though and the guy can be fucking stubborn,” Trevor huffed out. “I have tried telling him he is overthinking it but he just gets upset about it. He thinks he is delaying the inevitable.”

You let out a sigh.

Trevor continued. “He just needs to realise that he didn’t ruin his president’s relationship and that you both actually want to fuck him—”

“Trevor.”

“—and then everything will be fine,” he concluded like it was easy. Like you could just walk up to Jack and tell him as much. As if he hadn’t been actively avoiding you for the last week.

“Yeah, that’s all,” you murmured, your mind wandering as the boy continued to ramble on about some business analytics class he was taking.

…

In classic president fashion, Nico was the one who had enough of the weird game the three of you had been playing for the last few weeks. He couldn’t take it anymore, so he was going to do what he did best, and he was going to fix the mess.

He couldn’t handle seeing you heartbroken over it any longer.

He couldn’t handle Jack hiding away from him like he was a stranger.

He couldn’t handle the overwhelming emptiness in his chest that had been haunting him since Jack ran out of the bar.

He couldn’t fucking handle any of it anymore.

All in all, it was embarrassingly easy to manipulate and puppeteer the whole thing. It was a bit of a slap in the face, to realise that something could have been done weeks ago. But Nico tried not to linger on the thought for too long.

Plus, getting Jack in the same room as the two of you was the easy part.

Convincing him the two of you were just as gone for him as he was for you was going to be the hard part. Especially considering the fact Jack was one of the most stubborn and iron-willed people he had ever met in his life.

But he would be damned if another day went by where Jack Hughes didn’t know how the two of you felt for him.

“Trev, how many books do you have that you need my help with?”

“I borrowed a lot! The librarian likes me.”

“And why have you not returned then?”

“...I forgot.”

Nico could feel you tense beside him as the voices on the other side of the door got closer. He reached over, placing a warm and comforting hand on the small of your back as you sagged back against him. The footsteps got closer and closer until there was a pause.

“Isn’t this Nico’s room?”

“Uh, no!”

“Trev—”

The next thirty seconds passed in a blink of the eye. The door swung open and you could pinpoint the exact moment Jack saw the two of you. His eyes widened, his face fell and he was frozen in his spot. It gave Trevor more than enough time to shove him deeper into the room, call out a ‘you’re welcome!’ before he slammed the door shut behind him.

Jack cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m just gonna—”

“No,” Nico stepped forward, trying to hide the desperate tint to his words. “No, stay. Please.”

Jack shifted in his spot. “I have some homework to—”

“Jack,” Nico interrupted, a deep sigh following as he shot the younger boy a look. “We know you’re ignoring us.”

Jack froze before he let out a strained laugh. “What? No! I’ve just been busy—”

“Jack.” This time you stepped forward, a frown painted on your lips. “Please, we know. We aren’t stupid.”

“Talk to us,” Nico said as he continued to walk forward until he was only a few steps from the boy. “Talk to me.”

Jack glanced between the two of you, a conflict clearly playing out in his head before he eventually blurted out, “I didn’t mean to be a homewrecker!”

Nico blinked, his brows furrowed together. “A what?”

You shook your head. “Jack—”

“I-I just…listen, you don’t have to say it. I get it. I know.” Jack swallowed, shifting in his spot once again. “I didn’t mean to…I…” There was a pause before he let out a breath. “You don’t have to worry about me…doing anything again. I won’t. I promise. And…and if you want me to leave the frat, I get it.”

His eyes were focused on the ground, staring at some random spot between his feet as he finally got out the words that had been weighing heavily on his chest for the last few weeks. But with his gaze downward, he missed the way Nico’s face softened completely at his admission.

“And if we want you to do it again?”

Jack blinked before he lifted his head. “What?”

Nico swallowed before he closed the small distance between them, keeping his eyes on the boy. “And what if we want you to do it again? What if we don’t want you to stop?”

He blinked with a look of pure discombobulation on his face. “Huh? But I…I kissed your girlfriend.”

“Jack.” Nico sighed, and it sounded so fond as he lifted his hands to hold the younger boy’s face. “You kissed my girlfriend.”

“Uh, yeah, I just said that,” Jack murmured, his cheeks burning.

“I am not mad, I like kissing my girlfriend too,” Nico told him.

Jack frowned a little. “Well, yeah, she’s your girlfriend—”

“And,” Nico interrupted, taking a deep breath before he continued. “She liked kissing you too.”

Jack blinked.

“If anything, I was jealous she kissed you first,” he continued, his thumbs lightly swiping over the apples of his cheek.

“Oh,” was the only response Jack managed.

You made your way over, leaning against your boyfriend’s arms as you stared at Jack with a soft smile on your lips. “He’s wanted to kiss you for a while. You are his favourite.”

Nico’s lips twitched upwards but, for the first time, he didn’t deny it. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

Jack looked between the two of you as he tried to process the last thirty seconds in his head. And then he let out a laugh, a little nervous and hesitant. “You…you want to kiss me too?”

Nico nodded.

“Is this, like, some weird couples kink?” Jack blurted out, blood roaring in his ears and he was half-tempted to pull away if he knew he wouldn’t miss Nico’s touch on him. “Or has Trevor set you up to this? Because that is not cool—”

And then, Nico was kissing him.

Albeit, it was short and nowhere near as passionate as the one you and Jack shared at the bar, but it got the job done. It shut the boy up. It showed him this was far from a joke.

“For fuck’s sake, Jack,” Nico groaned as he pulled away, resting their foreheads together like he tended to do after goal celebrations on the ice. “We are in love with you, you idiot. You wrecked nothing.”

Jack let out a shaky breath as he pulled back a little. “You’re what?”

You stepped forward, catching his hand in yours before he stepped away completely. “This isn’t a joke. This isn’t some weird kink. This is just us telling you that we like you. Love you, even. This is us asking you to fix whatever mess we accidentally created because, Jack, I can’t handle you ignoring us again. We can’t handle that.”

His face softened. “You mean it?”

“Every word,” you confirmed with a nod.

“You want me?” He asked, and it broke your heart a little. You don’t think you had ever heard Jack Hughes sound so doubtful, so unsure of himself.

“We want you, baby,” Nico murmured, his hand dropping to cup the back of Jack’s neck as he smiled at the boy.

“I—” Jack’s shoulders sagged a little, like he could finally breathe for the first time in weeks. Like the weight and lingering guilt had been removed from his shoulders. “Shit, I really dragged this out, huh?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “We got there eventually.”

“Even after I ran out on you?” Jack questioned.

“You can make it up to me,” you retorted, something mischievous shining in your eyes.

Almost instinctively, Jack’s eyes snapped over to Nico like he was seeking permission.

Nico smiled a little, squeezing his neck once again in reassurance. “You don’t have to ask. You can just kiss her, baby.”

“I know, I just…” He trailed off, his cheeks pretty and rosy and it made something twist deep in Nico’s gut.

“You want me to tell you what to do?” Nico asked, his voice a little lower. A little gruff. “Need a little guidance, hm?”

Jack swallowed but nodded, a little shy.

“Hm, gonna listen?” He continued to taunt the boy, feeling Jack’s pulse thump beneath his palm. “Not gonna be a brat?”

“Promise,” Jack nodded.

Nico smiled and it made his heart lurch with desire. “Kiss her, baby. Make it up to her.”

Jack’s eyes shifted over to you.

You were watching him with a fond smile, head tilted in curiosity as you watched the interaction play out between the two of him. The second his attention was on you, you raised your brows in challenge, waiting to see if he really would listen to Nico’s instructions.

There were only a few beats of hesitation before Jack leaned forward, one hand on your face and the other on your waist as he pulled you towards him. The kiss was nothing like the one from the bar, it was far better. It almost felt like he had been holding back on you before.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you sunk into the kiss, as you let Jack take control this time, as you let him express the months of wanting and pining he had been holding onto him. You could feel his arm around your waist tightening, could feel his body pressed against yours as he held you close.

Nico settled behind Jack, his hands on the younger boy’s waist as he watched with pure desire and intent in his gaze.

You let out a small gasp when he nipped your bottom lip before pulling away, both of you panting and desperately breathing in the air your lungs were crying out for.

“Hm,” Nico hummed, his chin hooked on Jack’s shoulder as he looked at you. “What do you say, baby? Think he made up for the last few weeks?”

You almost felt like you were in a daze as you shook your head. “More.”

“More?” Nico grinned, squeezing Jack’s waist. “What do you say, Jack? Wanna give our girl more?”

He gulped a little at the use of ‘our girl’.

“You want to make her feel good? Beg for her forgiveness?” Nico continued, his head dipping down until his lips were tracing over Jack’s neck. He felt the boy shiver as he pressed a kiss to his pulse point. “Want me to teach you what she likes?”

“Please,” Jack breathed out, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck. Please. Yes.”

Nico lifted his gaze to look at you—a look you knew all too well.

“Bed. Now.”

The hands on his waist kept Jack locked in place as he watched you step out of his hold. He watched you continue to walk backwards until you reached the edge of the bed and quickly settled yourself down on the mattress, looking at Nico with that same expression Jack had given him earlier.

Nico pulled Jack closer, his chest pressed against the younger boy’s back as his breath tickled along his skin. Jack’s eyes fluttered shut as he began to kiss along his neck, teeth grazing against the sensitive spots that made his body push back into Nico’s.

He leaned back against the boy, his head falling back on his shoulder as Nico’s hands began to wander.

“Take off your pants,” Nico said to you, his voice rougher than moments earlier as he pushed one hand under the hem of Jack’s shirt.

Jack let out a small sound, a whimpering noise that was borderline embarrassing but Nico didn’t seem to mind. Instead, the boy lifted his head from Jack’s neck and used his free hand to grip his chin and turn his head so he could finally kiss him properly.

You watched them from your spot on the bed as you shimmied your jeans down your legs. You watched the way Nico held Jack’s face, the way his tongue swept along his lips before sinking into his mouth. You watched the way Jack’s body keened under the touch, the way his body shifted to seek more of him. You watched the way they fit together so well, like a perfect match.

Your boys.

Yours.

“Look at her,” Nico grumbled as he pulled away, despite the fact Jack kept shifting closer to kiss him again. “So impatient. Such a brat.”

Jack blinked slowly, his brain feeling like it was ten seconds behind as he turned his head to look at you. His lips parted in surprise as he found you sitting on Nico’s bed, clad in your shirt (it was really one of Nico’s) and your panties with your fingers tracing the waistband.

“M’not a brat,” you responded with a huff.

Nico grinned, leaning down to lightly nip Jack’s earlobe. “She’s such a brat,” he murmured, his large hand still splayed on Jack’s stomach and it made his head feel funny. “Gonna help me take care of her?”

He nodded.

“Go on then,” Nico said as he lightly patted Jack on his ass before stepping back. “Kneel in front of her. Be a good boy.”

He bit back the small whine he wanted to let out as he closed the distance between you and him, pausing for a moment when you reached for his shirt and yanked him down to kiss him. He sunk into the kiss quickly, letting out a relieved moan as he felt your tongue exploring his mouth.

He placed his hands on either side of you, happy to just feel your lips on his and hear the little sighs you let out against his mouth.

“Touch me, Jack,” you murmured softly between kisses.

Jack’s brain short circuited as he pulled back to look at you, hooded eyes blinking as he took in your glossy eyes and flushed expression. Almost instinctively, his eyes darted downwards to see the way you were clenching your thighs together.

“Beg him,” Nico spoke from a few feet away.

Jack gulped a little as he glanced back up at you, seeing the same hint of desperation he felt bubbling inside him.

“Please touch me, baby,” you whispered, leaning closer until your noses were brushing against each other and you could feel the shaky breath he let out. “Fuck, Jack, I wanna know how you feel. Thought about it so many times. Thought about you inside me.”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Shit.”

Because, if Jack Hughes was completely honest with himself, the whole thing felt like a dream. He had many of them since he joined the frat, since he met you and Nico and felt every perspective he had on his sexuality be thrown out the window. He had so many that eventually the guilt washed away to a more permanent emotion.

He lost track of the amount of times he dreamed of your soft hands or Nico’s board shoulders or his lips on either one of yours. He lost track of the amount of times he woke up hot and sweaty and panting in his bed. He lost track of the amount of times he fisted his cock in the shower, early in the morning when no one else was awake and he didn’t have to hide his pants and moans of your names as he came.

A small part of him was waiting for the moment to hit. He was waiting for the dream to no longer feel so real, for the edges to start to blur as his body began to wake up. He was waiting to wake up in his bed, hit with a pang of longing and loneliness with only a hard cock to show for it.

But he didn’t want this dream to end.

This felt like one of his most realistic ones yet and he wasn’t ready to let it go, he wasn’t ready to face his reality. He wasn’t ready for it to be fake.

He squeezed the fat of your thighs as he guided your legs over his shoulder, as he kissed and sucked up and down the skin of your inner thighs like he always wanted to do. He clung onto you like his dream would rip you away, like he could prevent himself from being torn away from between your thighs.

Jack listened to the way you moaned and sighed beneath his touch, the way you cried out his name as his tongue swiped along your clothed cunt and sucked the fabric in his mouth. He clung onto the way your thighs squeezed his ears as his fingers tugged the fabric of your panties to the side, as he finally got his mouth on your pussy.

He wasn’t ready to wake up and lose this. He wasn’t ready to wake up and lose the way Nico’s fingers felt tangled in his hair as he guided Jack’s head up as he ate you out. He wasn’t ready to lose the way Nico’s body felt pressed against his back, whispering what a good job he was doing as his lips wrapped around his earlobe the same way Jack was doing to your clit.

He needed to keep this.

He needed this to be real.

He needed—

“You’re so perfect, Jack,” Nico groaned from behind him, his hand reaching around to dip under the waistband of his trousers. “So fucking perfect. Our pretty boy, hm?”

He needed it all to be real.

Jack groaned against your cunt when Nico wrapped his hand around his cock, his hand so much bigger than his own. He took a moment, leaning his forehead against your thigh as Nico’s thumb lightly circled the head of his cock in a way that made his whole body shake.

“C’mon, baby, you said you wanted to make our girl feel good,” Nico whispered in his ear, pressed up against him as he continued to stroke his cock. “You only get to come when she comes.”

“Nico,” Jack panted out, his eyes clenched shut as the older boy’s fist tightened around him.

“You said you’d be my good boy, Jack.”

“I will,” he breathed out, groaning as he bucked his hips. “I am.”

“Then make her come.”

He needed this to be real. He wanted it to be real so fucking badly. He wanted this to be the life he lived, the life he had wished for constantly. He wanted for it to be you and him and Nico, he wanted it all. And maybe it made him greedy, but he needed it.

And Jack could feel everything building up.

He could feel the way your body tensed and shook underneath him as he licked and sucked and kissed your soaking cunt, as he wrapped his lips around your clit until your back was arching off the bed. He could feel the hot rush of pleasure wash down his spine as Nico continued to stroke his cock, whispering filthy words in his ear that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He could feel the overwhelming rush of emotions bubbling inside him, ready to spill into some cold, bitterness when he woke up alone.

He could feel it all and it all came crashing down at once, it felt like it fucking winded him.

And he couldn’t bear to open his eyes at first. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes and see his own room around him. To see the sun shining in through his window because he forgot to close the curtains the night before. To see himself alone in his bed. To see whatever ungodly hour he had woken up at this time.

He couldn’t bear it just yet.

And then he felt a warmth against his back. It was comforting and familiar and he craved to feel more of it. And he felt a hand in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp in a way that made him whine a little.

“Shhh, you did so well, baby. So well for us, Jack,” a voice whispered, deep and rich and soothing. A voice he craved to hear constantly.

Nico.

Because it wasn’t a dream. None of it was a dream. It was real. It was all real life. It was him and you and Nico. It was the three of you and neither of you were going anywhere and Jack wasn’t about to wake up in his room alone.

It was all fucking real.

“There he is,” you mused, your hand running through his hair as you watched his bleary eyes blink up at you. “Our pretty boy.”

His cheeks flushed in response.

“C’mon, need to get you cleaned up. I’ll get you another pair of sweatpants to wear and then we can nap, okay?” Nico asked, hardly giving Jack a chance to even answer before he pressed a kiss to the side of his head and stood up.

He hated how cold he felt without Nico behind him.

“You okay?” You asked, your voice soft and concerned, and he just wanted to close his eyes and rest his head on your lap and stay there forever.

“Is this real?” He blurted out, only slightly embarrassed by his own bashfulness as you smiled down at him.

“So real, baby,” you murmured before tugging his head back enough to lean down and kiss him. “So fucking real.”

“Good,” he hummed as his eyes fluttered shut. “I love you both too, you know?”

“Yeah, we know.”

And there was more to talk about. So much more to discuss and work out and really talk about. You knew that. Nico knew that. Jack knew it too. But it could wait. You had waited months to admit your feelings to yourselves and each other. You could wait just a little longer.

It was a conversation to be had later, when you weren’t cuddled on Nico’s bed with both your boys pressed up against you as you surrendered yourself to the sleep your body was fighting.

1K notes · View notes

pearlzier · 8 months ago

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────⠀ ⠀SKATER.ᐟMATT × RICH.ᐟREADER

RICH.ᐟREADER ,, cheetah print. takes no shit. expensive taste. silver jewelry. fur, fur, fur. lip gloss. megan thee stallion coded. always got a sassy comment. knows all the drama. still sheltered despite everything. bad bitch.

SKATER.ᐟMATT ,, beanies. backwards caps. baggy everything. cuts and bruises from skating. never not wearing rings. scratches your initials on the back of one of his boards. dominic fike coded. snarky & sarcastic.

NOTES ,, thank u to bae @lovesickgrlsrh0t for planting these brainworms in my head i fear these two are my literal faves atm </3 also the triplets hit 7m n im so proud of them 😞💓 MDNI thank u

YOU'D KNOWN OF MATT BECAUSE OF A MUTUAL FRIEND. the friend was someone you'd gotten to know at a party, not exactly in your crowd, but the party was one with various people who dabbled in various things. you liked the friend, yeah, and they talked about a friend of theirs called matt, often. a skater, like.. one of those types to get caught trespassing on private property whilst hanging out, or something. not the type to attend nice galas and drink the finest wines in fancy ass outfits.

so you hadn't really cared about him, no. he was just a guy you knew of. and to matt, you were just some stuck-up socialite who he'd happened to go to school with since kindergarten. he didn't hate you, no, but like.. he wasn't exactly fond of you. he wasn't into the whole high life you associated yourself with. so it was obvious: the two of you were total opposites and wouldn't interact ever. especially since it was senior year, why would you in the first place?

turns out, it was actually quite simple. you'd been skipping class, as per usual, but had gotten caught this time. matt hadn't completed his coursework. now? detention, for the both of you. you'd most definitely considered skipping detention, since you had other engagements to attend, but you knew your parents wouldn't let you attend any other engagments for the rest of your senior year if you did. you're very clearly upset about detention, a pout adorning your glossy lips, your eyes fluttering around with not an ounce of enthusiasm.

it was just you and matt, you quickly realise. you stare at him for a minute, eyes narrowing. this catches his attention, and he cocks a brow as he glances up at you, "you get detention for havin' a starin' problem or what?" he's blunt, almost dead pan, rolling his eyes at the sight of you just.. staring at him. this makes your brow furrow, "that ain't no way to treat someone you've never talked to before, is it? jeez." you scoff under your breath, folding your arms over your chest. not wanting to act all petulant infront of the.. barely even a teacher, it's some substitute.

matt's quiet as he watches you sit down, the way you sit a far bit away as if being next to him will degrade the expensive material of your outfit. a scoff escapes him, in a similar fashion to your own, and he shakes his head, glancing away. you have this tendency to.. well, not shut up, so you start whining under your breath about how you were supposed to be at some gala, mingling with other stuffy, rich people but you were here. with him.

matt's just watching you, completely baffled and amused by you. it was absolutely so shallow of you and pretty vapid, ut he found himself a little intrigued. his eyes liked what he was seeing, you're pretty, super pretty. you dress like you know it too. "uh," he starts, "you didn't ask for my two cents on the whole.. gala thing, and i know i ain't the type to even be goin' anywhere near those things, but—could always pay someone to go for you. you got the money, don't you?" that causes a silence to settle over you, and you're quiet for a minute.

but then you burst out laughing, a sound that matt knows he wants to hear more of. he tries to hide a small smile, but then you're switching up on him the instant you realise you're laughing at something he'd said. "i got the money, but i ain't payin' someone to enjoy the time i was going to. defeats the whole purpose, dumbass." the smile switching to a glare damn near gave him whiplash. his brow furrows once more, and he raises his hands in surrender.

"shit, okay, okay, keep whinin' then," god, he didn't understand you, not at all. you were something, alright. "..'n' who're you callin' a dumbass?" he mumbles under his breath, sighing as he glanced back at the ceiling once more. giving you a quick glare, in return, that ends your conversation quite abruptly. but both of you are intrigued by eachother, clearly.

"you look so out of place here, kid," matt can't help but laugh at you. the said mutual friend from before had invited you to some party at some random guy's house. a birthday party, or some shit. a total lapse of judgement on your part, you knew, and you'd literally snuck out of your parent's place to be there. why the fuck did you do that for? you looked so out of place, he was right. you're stood there like even touching a single thing'll kill you on the spot.

you glare at him instantly, folding your arms under your chest which instantly draws his attention down to your cleavage. you notice, of course, hating the way a warm feeling bubbles in your stomach from how he looks at you. "don't remember ever askin' for your input," your head tilts, "just 'cause you got a pretty face don't mean you needa' go 'round stickin' your head where it don't belong."

"you think i got a pretty face? how sweet," he sticks his tongue out, a soft smirk gracing his lips. he looks good. dark tufts of hair stick out from beneath his beanie, the colourful lights set up causing a nice sheen to glow down onto his face. you're not crushing on him though—no, no. he's just some skater. he could never give you what you want. "c'mon, relax a little," he says his words soon after his first few just so you don't get a chance to snap at his cocky remark, catching you off guard.

"i don't know anyone here," you mutter under your breath, fiddling with your expensive necklace, once again drawing his attention downwards. he's pretty sure you're doing it on purpose now, honestly, since you keep doing it. those nails.. he's imagining them wrapped around other things, that's for sure. "you know me," his voice is a little gentler, and he nods over to the kitchen where beer pong is set up, "it'll be fun. loosen' you up a lil' bit." you're skeptical for a moment, but you nod, making your way over with him.

he has to say, he's into how quiet you get when you're somewhere out of your comfort zone. you're not as mouthy, or annoying. as much as he loves your banter, the flirty insults between you two, well.. he likes you like this. "you've never played beer pong?" matt's literally gasping, staring at you like you're insane.

your face scrunches up at that, "well, yeah. no one's playin' beer pong at a party where they serve scotch—" you shake your head, sighing. he wanted you to loosen up? you'd loosen up. he gives you a look as if to say chill out, before he laughs quietly when you do, in fact, chill out. "i'll teach you. s'easy." his voice is easy, low. and you notice how close he's stood next to you. "you're a quick learner, m'guessin'."

"sure," you roll your shoulders in a shrug, glancing at the beer pong being set up for another round before you look back at matt. "yeah," you affirm after a minute. matt glances at you with a soft, incredulous look before he shakes his head. "c'mon, i don't bite. neither does the beer. at least, it shouldn't." you're calming down with him already, he likes that a lot too.

you'd had another total lapse of judgement, surprise surprise, having been swayed by the inarguably nice night with matt and his stupid, pretty face into becoming fuck buddies. perhaps not your finest moment, but definitely your most pleasurable. he makes you feel good, so, so good. takes away your stress from all your parents expectations, makes you feel taken care of. you two aren't exactly friends with benefits, more like.. people who know eachother, like acquaintances with benefits. but fuck buddies suits you two better.

it'd started off as getting together once, meeting at another party and giving into the raw attraction between you two. he'd had you beneath him, your legs wrapped tight around his hips as he bucked up into you with a brutal pace. his hands grasped at the bed around your head, a bed in which he had no idea whose it was. hey, he needed you, real bad. the logistics of everything hadn't crossed his mind once. "need you," you'd whined, voice breaking a little with how loudly you'd been crying out his name.

"you're gettin' me, baby," he grunted, grasping at the bed a little tighter as you clenched around him, practically trapping him there. his eyes lift up to yours, a flush covering his face at how damn good you feel. "what d'you want?" he growled, all breathless and heavy, like even speaking took a lot out of him. "need you, ah—after this, too," you couldn't have him just once, that wouldn't be fair. he felt too fucking perfect to only have once.

matt laughs quietly, realising you're on the verge of just babbling from how deep he's fucking you. "shh, sh, i got you," he murmured, lowering his head down to yours to press his lips down against yours to ensure you wouldn't keep talking. between kisses, he whispers, "gonna have me whenever you want, baby. whenever you want." that had you practically squirting, thighs trembling as the movements of his hips stuttered.

he kept up his promise, and whenever you wanted him, you got him. matt didn't want to seem desperate, but he was starting to like you, a lot. those snarky comments and bitchy glares started turning into fond looks and quiet compliments. he wasn't soft on you, he really didn't want to be—but there he was, letting you practically walk all over him in those expensive heels. it wasn't until a certain moment where you realised you felt the same as he did. he fell first, but god damn it, did you fall harder.

matt's buried so deep inside you, all you can think about, all you want to think about is him. he's overwhelming in the best way, having told you to keep your eyes on his or else he wouldn't give you what you wanted. "eyes on me, baby, wanna see those pretty eyes," he murmured, your legs hiked up onto his shoulders as opposed to his hips this time. you two had been in many different positions with eachother, sure, but this? how close he is? how he's balls deep inside your cunt? can't think straight.

you lift your eyes to his, swallowing thickly as another whine rips from your throat. he coos softly, "there you are. there's my girl," his girl? you're his girl? he's being so soft, and loving, nothing like he's been before or you've ever had before. it's making you feel some kind of way and it feels wrong, but so right at the same time. "makin' such pretty sounds, lookin' so lovely like this.. you take my dick so well."

"matt—" you gasp softly, trying to bring yourself as close as possible with a swivel of your hips forward. matt groans, his head falling down into the crook of your neck as he slides his hands down to grasp at your thighs. just the feel of the callouses on his hands from various skating accidents has you squealing and whining beneath him. "so good, shit, oh, oh—right there, riiight there.."

"right there? right there?" matt drives himself deeper within you, whining into your skin. his nose brushes against your soft skin, grunting under his breath with each thrust forward of his hips. "i've got you, c'mon, cum 'round my cock for me, let it go, there she is, that's it.." he's thrusting up into you through your orgasm, holding you as close as possible, and even with the pleasure clouding your brain, you're realising that you're most definitely in love.

maybe it's the slow drag of his cock against your walls, as he takes a slower, steadier approach to pounding you into the bed—maybe it's his sweet words, you don't know, but all of it coming together? you're in love.

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @dayzeandhaze, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @https--roman, @sincerebabydoll, @pillwebb, @cayleeuhithinknot, @j2ss7 ִ ꒱

#𐙚˙ ana writes ⋆.˚#⁺ skater!matt ˖ ׁ ⁩ 𓇼 #⁺ rich!reader ˖ ׁ ⁩ 𓇼 #skater!matt #rich!reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo

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scentedpeachlandcreator · 12 days ago

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How to manifest your SP:

Yall made me crazy with this, and please no more questions "HOW TO MANIFEST MY SP?"!

(if yall wondering about my type, it's dark haired guys 😉)

Stop putting them on the pedestal!

I'm gonna say this many times, stop putting your SP on the pedestal, they're just human, whether they're celebrities, models, hot and Athletic, popular in your high school, a rich man, they're JUST humans, they also have insecurities, doubt, sad days, bad days, they're not perfect and you are not too.

Start working on your self-concept:

If you don't know, self-concept is important, it represent how you view your world, and your assumption create your reality, and since the World is just a mirror so it's gonna show you what you assume.

I know when you hear about self-concept it seems like a lot of work, but it's really simple.

What it is then?

Stop assuming things you don't want to! And start assuming better things!

For example: you assume and believe that men aren't loyal, trash and they're cheaters and that you never will get into a happy relationship blah blah blah, guess what? That what you'll be seeing, if you change your assumption saying that you deserve the best and your partners are Always loyal and dedicated and devoted to you and treat you like a princess, then that what you're gonna see.

As for my story after an incident, i realised that i should stop chasing after guys and it should be the opposite instead, i held the assumption that guys Always chase after me and they're Always obsessed with me, i always play hard to get and it seriously fun and amusing 😏.

So start assuming the best for yourself, start assuming that you always get treated like a princess by men, Always getting spoiled by them, Always finding your dream ideal partners and that they only see you and only you and are obsessed and completely devoted to you.

Now here's the real question that you all been waiting for 🥁🥁🥁 -

How do i manifest my SP?

If you want to manifest your dream partner from scratch, you can check my post here ➜ (click me!).

Now before i tell you how to manifest your SP, i want you to actually think that it is easy to manifest them, okay?

Now here it is the steps-

Decide & Assume: decide that right now your SP is already in love with you and assume he's obsessed with you and you both are already in a healthy relationship, going on a dates, him spoiling you (of course because you deserve it honey💅🙄).

Affirm: choose your ideal affirmation that represent that you and your SP are already in a relationship.

For example:

"my SP asked me out already and now we're in a healthy happy relationship"

"my SP is the most perfect boyfriend i've ever had!"

"my SP is so obsessed with me and he's so devoted to me!"

"my SP's eyes are only on me and i'm special in his eyes"

"my SP is so loyal to me, and i'm the only one for him, forever mine and i'm forever his"

Persist: now here comes the most important thing you need to do, no matter what the 3d shows you, you need to keep assuming your current assumption and keep sticking to it, cause you know it's a fact, because duh your SP is yours.

Persist persist persist! Your SP is already yours!

Now let's go to answering your questions-

What if he's my celebrity crush?

Girl/boy, that doesn't matter, no one have free will, and your celebrity crush is a human too not an angel, your assumption is what is true, even if your not that attractive, your SP will love you, because you deserve it, and it's your reality.

Can i manifest my SP even if we broke up two years ago?

Of course you can, you can assume that you both never broke up and your relationship is still going and is healthy.

Can i manifest my SP even if we just met at the airport?

Of course you can, even if you both just met once, you can still manifest them, and you both can meet in different ways, just let the work to your subconscious and trust it.

But my SP doesn't even know i exist😢

Bitch who said that huh? You assume they're yours, then they're yours, period.

Stop assuming negative assumption damn it!

But my hard circumstances 😢-

Circumstances doesn't mean shit, when you say you have your SP, then you have them, end of discussion.

Now that i have cleared up everything and made everything seems simple and easy, now i don't want to hear you all whining about your SPs never again, act like the queen/king you are, and alter your reality because you're the creator of it.

The answer to all your questions: just assume, assume you already have it.

Xoxo, Eli

#law of assumption #loa tumblr #loa blog #loa #law of manifestation #how to manifest #loassumption #void state #affirm and manifest 🫧 🎀✨ ִִֶָ ٠˟#specific person

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pankowcrumbs · 1 month ago

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Got That Out of Your System, Princess? x Harry Styles

MasterList

Harry Styles Masterlist

I’d like to think that I’m not the type of person who holds a grudge.

But when Harry and I had a petty little argument one of those stupid ones where neither of us could remember what we were even actually arguing about I found myself feeling a little... spiteful.

Not in a serious way. Just in a maybe I’ll cause a little chaos way.

Harry was overseas doing press interviews, and I was back home, stewing in my own irrational irritation. It wasn’t even a real fight. Something about whether or not he should’ve texted me or called me when he arrived at the hotel. I had been worried when I hadn't heard back but he was tired and It was stupid.

But still, my pride wouldn’t let me drop it.

So, I did the most ridiculous, over-the-top thing I could think of I took his credit card he gave me for emergencies and went on a spending spree from hell.

If he was going to make me feel petty, I was going to make him pay for it. Literally.

First, I strolled into a high-end boutique, the kind where the employees give you a once-over to decide whether you belong there. I had Harry Styles’ black Amex in my hand I belonged.

£50,000 later, I had bags full of entirely unnecessary designer clothes.

Then, I wandered into a car dealership and test-drove the most obnoxious luxury vehicle I could find. Sleek, fast, completely impractical.

“Would you like to discuss financing?” the salesman asked, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

I smiled sweetly. “Oh, no need. I’ll pay in full.”

That was another £100,000.

And finally, the pièce de résistance I bought a horse.

A real-life horse.

Do I know how to ride a horse? No.

Do I own any land or a stable? Also, no.

Did that stop me from dropping £10,000 on the most majestic looking stallion I could find? Absolutely not.

Petty? Yes.

Justified? Also yes.

By the time I got home, I was buzzing with the thrill of my absolutely ridiculous spending spree.

I had no idea how Harry was going to react. Maybe he’d be mad. Maybe he’d be so confused that he’d forget he was supposed to be annoyed at me.

Either way, I felt very pleased with myself.

Meanwhile…

Harry was finishing up an interview when his phone started vibrating relentlessly in his pocket.

He ignored it at first, but when he checked his notifications and saw five missed calls from his accountant, he knew something was up.

As soon as he was out of the studio, he called back, bracing himself for whatever financial catastrophe was awaiting him.

“Harry, mate, I have to ask are you okay?” his accountant’s voice was practically breathless with panic.

Harry frowned. “Yeah? Why?”

“Because there are outrageous charges on your account! Did you buy a £100,000 car today?”

Harry blinked. “...No.”

“Right. Did you spend £50,000 on clothes?”

Harry smirked, already catching on. “Nope.”

There was a long, exhausted sigh on the other end of the line. “And please, for the love of God, tell me you did not order a purebred racing horse.”

At that, Harry let out a loud, full-bodied laugh.

“Ahh,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “That’ll be my future wife throwing a tantrum.”

The accountant spluttered. “Harry, she bought a horse.”

He laughed again, running a hand through his curls. “Yeah, she’s a dramatic little thing, isn’t she?”

There was a beat of silence before the accountant sighed again, utterly defeated.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

Harry grinned. “Let her charge whatever she wants.”

“You do realise she spent a ridiculous amount of money, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said, still thoroughly amused. “Actually, could you sort out a stable for that damn horse while you’re at it?”

His accountant made a noise like he was about to quit on the spot.

Harry was still chuckling as he hung up and immediately dialled my number.

When my phone rang and I saw Harry’s name, I hesitated for a split second.

Then I answered.

“Got that out of your system, princess?”

I winced slightly. “You, um... noticed?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “Oh, I noticed. My accountant nearly had a heart attack.”

I bit my lip, feeling a little guilty. “I may have gone... slightly overboard.”

“Oh, slightly, yeah?” he teased, still entirely unbothered. “You spent six figures just to prove a point, love.”

I groaned, flopping onto the bed. “I was just being stubborn! You know I never spend your money, and I...I just wanted to be petty!”

“I know,” he said, warmth in his voice. “And honestly? It was hilarious.”

I blinked. “Wait... you’re not mad?”

Harry snorted. “Mad? Sweetheart, you just threw the most expensive tantrum I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s iconic.”

I let out a breathy laugh, feeling my tension ease. “I am sorry, though.”

“I know you are.”

I hesitated. “You really don’t care?”

“Not in the slightest,” he promised. “You could’ve bought ten horses and I’d still just be here thinking about how much I love you.”

My heart fluttered at that. “I love you too.”

“Good,” he said softly. “Now, about this horse...”

I groaned. “Yeah... about that...”

“Darling, where are you even planning to keep it?”

I bit my lip. “Is your accountant’s handling that?.”

Harry laughed again, long and hard. “Of course he is.”

There was a pause before he added, “You do realise this means you’re coming horse-riding with me now, right?”

My eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

Harry smirked. “Oh, you think you can just buy a horse and not ride it? Nah, love, we’re gonna be equestrian professionals by the end of this.”

I groaned, but I was smiling like an idiot. “You’re impossible.”

“And you are the most dramatic, expensive little menace I’ve ever had the pleasure of loving.”

I laughed. “That’s me.”

He chuckled again, voice low and affectionate. “Go to sleep, my love. I’ll be home soon.”

And just like that, everything was right again.

I sighed happily. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, my insanely expensive princess.”

Two weeks later, I found myself at a stable, standing in front of my very expensive, very large, very real horse.

Harry stood beside me, grinning from ear to ear.

“So,” he said, nudging me. “Shall we go for a ride?”

I turned to him, utterly deadpan. “I hate you.”

He just laughed, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and whispered, “Love you too, sweetheart.”

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shurisneakers · 4 months ago

Text

unsolved (vii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal.

A/N: hello. i am late again. i almost gave up but we are here. for better or for worse. i will most likely go back ad edit the second half again ok love u guys mwahmwah

Previous part || Series masterlist

Only after hours, nay, a full day of hunching over his desk, eyes red-rimmed and burning, four crushed cans of energy drinks next to him lending to him the nervous energy of a chihuahua, Bucky realises that there’s no beating it.

He absentmindedly takes another sip of the RedBull, flinching when the taste registers. Either he’d reached his threshold or the medicine flavour had begun morphing into something else entirely. The caffeine didn’t even work on him, so really, he was just placebo-ing himself into having energy.

Every site he’s visited has had a vastly different interpretation; ones that don't match what he thinks has been happening, or the context past his past provides. Others are simply blatantly wrong based on the additional research he, in his infinite wisdom and totally accurate self-assessment tendencies, has been gathering in the last 3 days.

The Star. Six of Cups. The Hanged Man.

Bucky knows he could ask someone in real life about this, someone who possibly had more experience than a simple website whose code broke every time he tried to scroll to the bottom. However, that would mean that he had to tell them his dead sister was probably haunting him out of her spite and hatred for the very fibres of his being.

Also, Bucky may be haunted by his dead relatives, but he’s not haunted enough to actually leave his room over it.

Video consultations were also an option, but he’s convinced that if word got out that Bucky Barnes was half-convinced ghosts were following him around, it would make headlines for a mighty long week.

Therefore, he resorts to shady, online websites that demand he pay up before giving him the results of the readings they’ve done for him.

The “lady” that he paid to talk to using Steve’s credit card on mistytarot.com types for a very long time before a message comes through.

The thought bubble disappears for another half an hour, and Bucky thinks hat either she is a complete scam, or it’s run by someone who is about as technologically proficient as Steve was.

But a message does in fact come through, and it’s enough to have him be covninced that the 20 bucks he blew on Steve’s card was worth it.

Lady Lilia

Considering that you think you’re being haunted, The Star could represent the absence of hope. Do you feel like you’re being trapped in darkness? As if you are being abandoned by the universe and with no room for healing?

B. Barneswell i forgot about it until now

Lady Lilia If your sister passed away a long time ago, the reason The Six of Cups may have presented itself is because you may be feeling like you're ensnared in the past, constantly reliving moments that hurt or confuse you, rather than finding peace.

A frown grows on his face.

Lady Lilia If you’re haunted by a person who used to be in your life and it is reminding you of past mistakes, The Hanged Man could be because feel like you're stuck in a cycle of stagnation, unable to move forward, as if these spirits are keeping you suspended in a state of emotional paralysis.

However, if the cards were upright–

Bucky slams the laptop shut, inhaling and exhaling sharply through his nose.

From the corner of his eye, his phone lights up with the fifth missed call in the last ten minutes, but considering that he keeps that thing on silent, he never even noticed.

Shoving aside whatever he may be thinking for the moment, he checks the caller ID, only for feelings of confusion and despair to be immediately replaced with annoyance, or disgust even.

He calls back anyway, preparing for the worst.

“Did you drink all my RedBull?” Clint booms the second he picks up.

“No,” Bucky lies smoothly.

“Fucker, I know it was you. Pay me back. With interest.”

“No.”

Clint switches to whining. “You know I need that shit to stay awake at night. Some of us don’t have superhero cocaine in our system.”

“I don’t care, go to sleep at a normal hour.”

“Say, did you drink every last one?” Clint instantly switches to a curious tone for a second. “Because one of them’s not like the others.”

Bucky looks at the cans that littered his bedroom floor. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you what it is over the phone.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say it’s not exactly allowed in the country, but–”

Bucky cuts the call and tosses it onto the bed.

He runs a hand through his hair, softly exhaling while contemplating whether or not to continue the chat. Steve wouldn’t miss another 20 dollars, he had the wealth of a small prince with all that army back pay bullshit. In fact, Steve should ideally be funding more of Bucky’s endeavours.

There comes a knock at his door.

Bucky immediately leaps off the bed, sprinting to the door, because he fuckin knows that knock, goddamn it–

He throws open the door before you get the chance to full body slam against it.

“Oh.” You blink, relaxing away from your stance. “Hey. How’d you know–”

“You do this every week,” he breaks in. “You do this multiple times a day.”

“Don’t you dare say I’m predictable,” you warn, raising a finger. “I’ll start crying right here, then you’ll have to deal with that. You wanna see snot running down my–”

Bucky slams the door shut again, waiting to turn around.

“Can you take me to the doctor?” Your voice is muffled through the solid wood.

It’s enough to make him hesitate, hand on the doorknob.

“What’s wrong with you?” he inquires..

“Nothing, I’m perfect,” you reply instinctively, before course correcting, “Wait, no, I’m sick.”

He lets his head drop against the door. “Go to the fucking infirmary.”

“The infirmary told me to go to the hospital. Can you just take me?” you bug. “They won’t discharge me unless I have someone with me to drive me back.”

“You have a head injury?” Bucky asks, before following it with, “Actually, that tracks.”

“Rude.”

“Ask Nat.”

“Nat’s in Lagos.”

“Ask Sam.”

“Yoga.”

“Clint.”

“Really.”

“Glad to know I’m your first choice,” he mumbles, opening up the door.

You send him a blistering smile. “You’re my favourite choice.”

______

“You gotta take this turn,” you instruct, too close to the actual crossing.

“The nearest hospital’s five minutes away, what the hell are you talking about?“ he points out, eyes on the road.

“We’re going to the one on King’s Road,” you read off of Google maps. “Take that lef-– well, you missed that. Now you gotta make a u-turn.”

“What’s the problem with Chastain Park?” he demands. “King’s Road is half an hour away.”

“This one’s got all my files,” you insist. “Otherwise I gotta start over and it's so much effort.”

“Aren’t you in a database?”

“Yeah, but not a medical one.”

Bucky lets out something akin to a growl and a groan. “What's the time?”

“Like eight thirty?”

“What’s the time,” he emphasises, because he most definitely had another email due from another lady on the internet who he had sent his cards to a few hours ago.

“Fine, it’s eight twenty two,” you shoot back. “Did that make a big difference?”

“Yeah, it did actually,” he fires indignantly, “My life is radically different. You have no way of knowing.”

“Liar. You’re a lying liar, who lies.” You scoff. “And details are for losers.”

“Losers can drive all the way back to drop you off at the infirmary and let them deal with you.”

You relent, flashing him a grin. “This won’t take long.”

“You say this every fuckin’ time,” he groans, before complying and taking a u-turn anyway.

“You’re fucking joking,” he states.

“No, it’s actually called lying,” you correct casually.

“Is this an abandoned hospital? What the fuck?” Bucky asks, staring up at the huge decaying building.

The outside looks run-down, with cracked, weathered brick walls and broken windows. The entrance is blocked off with rusted gates, some sections of which have fallen over. As the car rolls up, the air is thick with a musty, damp smell, mixed with a faint odor of decay.

“Yes,” you say simply, opening the trunk of the car and pulling out all the supplies you had from last time. “Video time. Let’s go.”

“You didn’t have to lie,” Bucky mumbles. “I’d have showed up.”

You give him a deadpan look. “You famously never do.”

That’s fair, but also, that was the old Bucky. The new Bucky circa this week is a bit more… invested. He feels the need to gather some more information, and unfortunately, the only opportunity to do that is here.

So for the time being, he decides he will hang on. For purely selfish reasons.

“Just tell me next time,” he grunts.

You observe him for a second like you're about to call him out on something, but instead you simply say, “Okay.”

Bucky grabs his usual stuff– the spirit box, a lapel mic, while you levitate the camera.

“Hello?”

You both look beyond the camera at the same time to someone stalking up to you.

“Who’s there?” demands a middle aged woman with straw blonde hair, wrinkles decorating sunburnt skin, and a navy blue jacket.

“Uh–”

“Who are you?” she asks, cautiously stopping a few feet away.

“We’re here on a video shoot,” you inform. “Just wanted to check the place out.”

“Oh, you’re one of them camera folk,” she says, ponting her flashlight at you. “Those ghost hutner types.”

“That’s us,” you agree, flinching from the bright light. “We're from The Graveyard Shift.”

“Who are you?” Bucky cuts in, because why should only the both of you explain.

“I’ve been working security here for the last thirty years.” She shines her flashlight at the musty place. “Name’s Brenda.”

“Why does an abandoned hospital need a security guard?” Bucky inquires.

“Management just underwent a shift. White collars are setting up a mall here, so they bought up the whole place, fired everyone and now they’re gonna build an all year ski world or something in there.” There’s a tick in her jaw as she draws it out. “Whole damn place is cursed. They better hope it only burns down.”

“Okay,” you drag out, giving Bucky a sideways glance. “Anyway, we’re gonna go check out the place. See if we can find some ghosts.”

“Oh, you’ll see ‘em, alright. Everyone who was collateral damage in the buyout is still in there.” Her voice is distant, arm coming to rest on her hip. “You’ll have to hit up specific rooms. Y’all got a floorplan?”

“No, figured we’d just wing it.” You pause. “Hospital wing it.”

“Shut up,” Bucky replies on instinct.

“You’re gonna be spending a lot of time in there if y’all dont know where youre’ heading. It’s a maze,” she continues, ignoring your brilliant joke. “I can show you the rooms, but I can’t guarantee that it has ghosts in there.”

“Uhhh—” you begin.

“It’ll cut down your time in half.”

“Deal,” Bucky says immediately, sticking out his hand for a shake.

Brenda sticks out her hand too, only to wince immediately, following it up with a curse.

“What’s wrong?” you interject.

“Damn back’s killing me,” she mutters. “You’d think death would stop the pain, but it’s not let up yet. Come on then.”

Both of your eyebrows knit together at her statement, but she leaves no room for a reply as she marches inward, one hand on the small of her spine.

Bucky elects to use his phone flashlight, as if he keeps that shit charged above 40% at any given point of time. If anything is not going to make it out of the night alive, it was that thing.

The air inside is stale and heavy, filled with the scent of mildew and old, rusted metal. All three of your footsteps echo in the silence, reverberating through empty halls with each cautious step. The moonlight in conjunction with the flashlight casts long, unsettling shadows. The faint taste of dust lingers in the back of Bucky’s throat that he cannot get rid of.

“Y’all gonna sleep in here tonight?” Brenda pipes up, swinging her flashlight around.

You look at Bucky with a grin that’s alarming.

His face immediately pulls into one of “What the fuck”

“No, we aren’t,” you announce instead. “But do people do that often?”

“You’d be surprised,” she comments. “You’re not the first folks we’ve had here with those fancy shmancy gadgets.”

“That explains how you have a tour all planned.”

“We get a bunch of you every couple of months.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Bucky cuts in.

She pays him no need. “Y’all run a podcast?”

Bucky looks personally affronted. “No, we do not.”

“We run a YouTube channel,” you offer instead. “It’s for ghosts and stuff.”

“I see,” she considers, tone thoughtful. “So, this will go up online?”

“Unfortunately,” Bucky murmurs.

“Have you caught ghosts before?”

“Not even one–”

“Several,” you chirp. “And we have a witch cat. Her name’s Alpine.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at you. “Since when is her name Alpine?”

“I gave her a bunch of options and she told me she liked that best.”

“The cat can’t talk.”

“To you. She and I chat shit everyday,” you dish back. “She hates that stupid fern in your room, she says it smells.”

That fucking fern was not even his idea. But Sam got it for him when he moved in, so there was a zero percent chance it would be leaving any time soon.

“Tell her to fuck off.”

“Y’all got a large following?” Brenda interrupts.

“Building towards it.” You look at her before looking at Bucky. “Once we hit a sizable amount and Bucky becomes an official internet boyfriend, we’ll stop the series.”

He sends you a withering look. “We’ll be doing this till I die.”

“Nonsense, everyone loves you,” you dismiss. “You’re a pretty boy and extremely irritable. They think you’re hilarious.”

His nose twitches, and he feels the need to clear his throat.

“Your camera records ghosts?” Brenda asks again.

“We’ve got a bunch of devices. We’ll catch it,” you sound confident.

“Great, because here’s the first stop,” she says, pressing her shoulder onto a double door.

The door groans as she pushes, its hinges protesting with a long, rusty screech, the cold metal heavy under her hand. A stale gust of air hits your face, carrying the faint smell of rot as the door finally gives way.

She steps back with a small huff, stretching her back with a small, “Shit.”

The pale blue walls had turned greenish, wallpaper peeling away. Counters were covered with a thin layer of dust. Old tools laid unused on the surgical table, once stainless steel but now rusted.

“A lotta deaths happened in this operating theatre,” she imparts after a bout of stretching. “They thought this place was cursed for a while.”

The sterile, tiled walls are cracked and chipped, and the old surgical lights hang dim, their bulbs long burned out. The air still lingers with antiseptic that’s long since turned sour.

Bucky feels a little too acquainted with this setting.

He doesn’t even realise his silence is palpable until you nudge his side, drawing his attention sharply back to you.

“You doin’ okay?” you whisper.

“Fine,” he says, tearing his eyes away from the tools and towards you.

It only twists his stomach a little. It makes him think of how different his reactions used to be even a few years go.

“Old, dingy hospitals may not have been the best idea,” you admit to him, using the flashlight to shine a light in the corner.

It occurs to him a second later once he forces himself to compartmentalise.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low.

“Yeah,” you reply, slowly looking around. “Just looks like my nursery.”

A small crease forms between his eyebrows.

“Not gonna lie, mine was way prettier. Lot more mould on the walls,” you continue, tone light. “You know, timeless decor.”

His nose lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh. “Leviathan not into blood stain wallpaper?”

“Couldn’t afford it. Fuckin’ place kept referring to itself as Hydra’s sister org but had none of the budget,” you say, swiping a finger across the dust. “You’d think that at least some of the people that left would give alumni donations, but no.”

Bucky snickers at jokes literally no one else would laugh at. It feels good for once, not to feel the need to censor himself to make others less uncomfortable.

You take a step forward, camera following behind you.

You shine the flashlight around the room, noting all the surgical trays piled together.

But something flashes on the ceiling.

You swing your flashlight toward it immediately, only for the table beside you a few inches away to start rolling, making a loud whining noise as it did, snapping your attention towards it.

By the time you finally bring the light back up towards the ceiling, it’s gone.

“What the–” you mumble.

“What?” Bucky asks, looking up from where he was scrolling through his phone.

“Could’a sworn I saw–” you frown at the empty space now, only an old defunct looking camera staring back at you.

“Red eyes?” Brenda inquires, looking at you. “Yeah, that happens.”

Bucky glances up at you, and then the wall. “Probably just the lens glare.”

You scrunch up your face at her. “How’d you know it was red eyes?”

“That’d be the spirit of ol’ Doctor Damon, chief of neuro,” she says. “You’ll find him here or his cabin, but that’s a few floors away. He never liked climbing the stairs.”

“Right,” Bucky acknowledges monotonously.

“When he worked here, he spent so long in surgery that his eyes were always bloodshot. One day he just dropped dead from exhaustion,” Brenda explains. “So his spirit walks around here, red eyes, wheeling surgery tables waiting for the next patient.”

“What’s he doing on the ceiling?” Bucky questions, going back to his phone. “He did his surgeries suspended midair?”

“Are you trying to gatekeep the ceiling?” you scoff. “Have you never seen Spiderman hanging upside down for fun?”

Bucky finally lifts his sight from the phone. “The doctor is not an insect superhero, he would have no reason to be hanging upside down–”

“How would you know if he’s a superhero or not? What if he was bitten by a bat?” you challenge. “Like a bat…guy. Batman.”

He jeers. “Then he’s got a stupid codename.”

“Oh, and Captain America is poetic genius.”

“At least Sam has a codename, where’s yours?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Maybe you should have paid attention when your mother was screaming it las-”

“Shall we move on?” Brenda asks calmly.

“Yes,” the both of you reply simultaneously.

She doesn’t even bother looking at you, almost as if she’d seen it all in her lifetime.

“Besides, sometimes you can see him sitting on one of the operating tables. He doesn’t just hang out on the ceiling like… bat…man,” she explains, leading the way back out.

“See?”

“See what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he replies. “There’s nothing to see. That’s the fuckin’ point.”

You shove him lightly.

Bucky bites back a grin.

_____

The morgue is silent.

The ceiling is low and chipped, streaked with stains of old water damage, the paint fallen away in patches.

Against one wall, old, disused morgue drawers stand open and half-broken, the once-sleek stainless steel now speckled with rust. Some of the drawers are bent out of shape, while others are stuck, sealed tight from years of neglect. Inside some of the open drawers, tattered, yellowed tags hang loosely from the handles, swaying gently as the chill air moves through the room.

“This room’s self explanatory,” she says. “Sometimes, you can hear spirits still trying to claw their way out of the drawers but they never open.”

“Skill issue,” Bucky mumbles under his breath.

“Shut up, oh my God,” you whisper-yell, still mouth pulling into a thin line to stop from laughing.

“What?” Brenda asks, suddenly from near the drawers.

You had no idea when she even went there.

“Nothing,” you reply, before thoughtfully asking, “Bucky, truth or dare?”

“No.”

“Dare it is.” You shine a flashlight at one of the closed drawers. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you get in one of them for a few seconds. Let’s see if the ghosts come at you.”

“You're deranged,” he replies, incredulous.

“It’s for science,” you insist. “How else will you know for sure?”

“I’m sure it’ll be comfortable,” Brenda quips. “Like a coffin.”

The both of you look at her together in silence.

She shrugs. “It’s what I’ve heard from them.”

You look at her for a second more, before turning to Bucky. “Anyway, if you want I’ll come lie in there with you.”

“How does that make it better?” he exclaims. “I am not lying in the morgue.”

“Even if I’m in there with you?”

“That’s even worse–”

There’s a loud knock from one of the drawers on Brenda’s side. She looks down at it, almost like she was expecting it. Soon, there are further loud thuds that come from inside the remaining drawers.

“Hey, Magda,” she calls, before more knocks come from inside. “You’ve got visitors. Say hello.”

You grab the spirit box from behind Bucky’s ear and hold it in the direction of the wall. Nothing registers.

“Animals,” he answers the question hanging in the air calmly.

“The spirits?” Brenda replies. “They’re not gonna like that.”

Sure enough, a few of the drawers start rattling on their own accord.

You look at Bucky with an eyebrow raised.

“What?” he carps. “I’m not gonna go lie down in there, if that’s what you want.”

“Come on, take one for the team,” you whine.

“You take one for the team.”

“I’m literally the one pulling all the weight around here. You do it.”

Bucky doesn’t agree with you on the last part, but the first one is undisputably right. He makes a mental note to start contributing a fuckton more if he plans on continuing on in the series.

The rattling around comes to a halt eventually.

“If none of you want to get in there, should we move to the next one?” Brenda points to the door.

“Yes, please,” you confirm, sending Bucky a glare.

She leads the way up the stairs while you both follow, bickering and shoving lightly.

Once upstairs, Bucky glances down the hall, only to see a large double door that is noticeably different from the rest you’ve seen so far. There’s a fading rainbow drawn on the front, little footsteps painted onto the floor leading towards it.

Bucky hesitates, steps faltering. “Is that the children’s ward?”

“Yes,” Brenda looks over her shoulder briefly.

For a second, he wonders. Whether it was worth a shot. He hadn’t heard from her since the incident at the house, and the tarot cards have been suggesting nothing but reasons to believe she may actually be there.

“Are we going to check that out?” he asks.

“No, there’s nothing there,” she shrugs it off. “No spirits. I’ve asked the others too.”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. “Are you sure?”

You shoot him an odd look that he refuses to meet.

“Yep. Next stop’s the other way.”

Bucky spares the doors another long look, before traversing down the hallway with you.

“Why do you wanna go to the children’s ward?” you query, voice low.

“Just thought it was worth checking out,” he replies, voice steady.

“We can always make a run for it and go check.”

“No,” he says, giving you a curt shake of his head, “it’s alright.”

“We’re right down this way,” Brenda calls, turning a corner and disappearing out of sight.

“Coming!” you call back before spinning to Bucky. “Hey.”

“What?” he responds, moving at his own brisk pace.

You tug him back with you with force.

“What are you doing–’ he hisses.

You link your arm with Bucky’s, pulling him along with you as you walk, shutting him up. He eyes your elbow looped with his and the proximity with which you walked beside him and all of a sudden, the back of his neck feels quite warm, extending down to his chest.

“I think Brenda’s a ghost,” you tell him casually.

Bucky stops in his path, drawn very much back to reality.

“Keep walking,” you grit through a smile. “I’m pretty sure she’s dead. Why else is she totally chill with the ghosts here-”

“Because there aren’t any. It’s animals.”

“Why is she saying coffins are comfortable? Why is she talking to the ghosts and knowing exactly where they are and aren’t?”

“I can make shit up too, look,” Bucky comments enthusiastically. “Oh, down the hall is the isolation room. You’ll hear heavy breathing because that’s where the tuberculosis patients were–”

“That’s one of the isolation rooms,” Brenda’s voice echoes down the hall. “It’s next up.”

You yank your arm away from Bucky when he blinks, a bit surprised himself.

“Are you dead?” you whisper-yell.

“Only ‘cause the government declared it,” he sighs. “Do you know what a fuckin’ pain it is to get undead.”

“Come on.” Brenda beckons to the both of you with her flashlight.

With a slight shove, the door to the room swings open easily, but the smell of old paper and mildew floods your senses.

The bed is now a rusted, sagging frame, the thin mattress long since torn and discolored with age. The once-clean sheets have yellowed and frayed, with remnants of old stains. Thin, brittle blankets lie in a heap on the floor.

The walls are bare, save for a few faded medical charts and broken instruments that were left behind in haste. The small window that once offered a faint glimpse of the outside is now cracked and filthy. The weak, filtered light that struggles through the dust-covered glass barely illuminates the room.

“Patients who were highly contagious were quarantined here. Some of them died without family by their side, so you can still hear their cries. Some of them have problems breathing, so sometimes you’ll hear it through the vents,” Brenda explains.

“I bet,” Bucky drags out, sending you a “I fuckin’ told you so” look..

Down the hall, something makes a loud sound, almost like something had crashed into the floor.

All three of you turn towards it.

Brenda’s face flickers for a moment before turning back to its regular calm.

“I think someone’s angry,” she decides. “I’m gonna go check it out.”

“Do you want us to come with you?” you offer.

“I’ll be okay, I’ve known these people all my life. We’re friends,” she comforts. “Oh, sometimes if you look out the door, you’ll see shadows of people in the waiting room down the hall. They’re just old families lingering around, hoping for better results but they always leave upset.”

“Is there no way to get them out of here?” you ask.

She shrugs. “Unless you find a way to fix their disappointment, I doubt they'll leave. They’ll stick around until something improves or changes.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at the implication. If that were truly the case, and not just something he concocted in the deep, self hating crevices of his mind, then he had to figure out which part of the fucked up mess that he was had pissed his sister off enough to come back to let him know she was disappointed.

You nod at her and she nods, spinning on her heel to exit the room, but not before she stops for a second, hand on the doorframe as she catches her breath, and one hand on her spine.

“Are you okay?” you sound genuinely concerned.

She flashes you a thumbs up, leaving without so much as another word.

“She’s gonna come back with some bullshit about the hospital canteen staff dropping their pans or some shit,” Bucky remarks.

“Yeah no, that was me. I just wanted her out of the room so we could discuss something,” you wave it off quickly.

Bucky stares at you.

“What? I dropped a cart. It’s not a big deal. Anyway, listen–”

“She’s not a ghost,” he states resolutely.

“But what if she is,” you insist, a wicked grin on your face. “Imagine saying we got a ghost tour. By a ghost.”

“I can imagine saying that, yes. I have a very wide and limitless imagination.”

“Ugh, what if we’re meant to help her find her way back?” You peer over his shoulder to see if she’s walking back.

In the distance another crash sounds through the empty hallways. Bucky stares at you.

“I’m just making sure, it’s not like I’m hurting anyone” you insist, dismissing it.

“You could've just closed the door,” he says, extending one hand behind him to slide it closed.

“Don’t do that,” you blurt out.

He stops, eyebrow raised.

“I don't like when doors are closed,” you shrug it off. “Anyway, back to the point. We should totally figure out how to help her exit this realm.”

He slides the door back open slowly, narrowing his eyes at you.

“EVen if she were a ghost, which she’s not– she seems happy here. Maybe,” Bucky comments, taking a seat on the worn out bed. “I can’t really tell.”

“She can’t be. Imagine being forced to roam the same hallways over and over again till the end of time.” you shudder. “Sounds miserable.”

Bucky shrugs, poking at the pillow, watching a cloud of dust fly up from it. “Routine sounds fine to me.”

“I’d hate it,” you counter immediately. “I hate routines. Fucking inescapable once you get stuck in one.”

Bucky watches you curiously as you shift up and down the small room. “How do you get anything done?”

“I can get things done without a routine.” The camera follows your command, checking outside the window or the door occasionally facing Bucky. “Why?”

“Just asking,” he replies, checking the time on his phone. It’d been a while since Brenda had gone to investigate.

“And having a routine totally makes you an easy target. Haven’t you watched any assassination movies?”

“No. I didn’t like bringing work home.”

You look at him in surprise before your face splits into a smile.

Something makes a noise from the wall adjacent to the door.

You both look at each other, and he gets off the bed to go see what the deal is. The door is adjacent to the wall, giving him a clear look into the hallway that was still empty.

A faint wail sounds through the vent above his head. You take quick steps towards where he was, and the camera follows suit, pointing at the grill on the wall.

You stand underneath it, spirit box raised as close as you could get it, but the damn thing picks up nothing.

Another noise comes through, almost like someone was wheezing, before the vent rattles, stopping altogether.

You stare at it, before taking a gigantic inhale and exhaling obnoxiously, forcing all the air out of your lungs with a wheeze.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Bucky stares at you like you're insane.

“Well, you can’t just back down,” you argue. “I’m gonna breathe louder than that thing.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles.

You give another gigantic inhale and exhale, rattling all the bones in your body, and the faint noise from the vent stops too.

“We win,” you beam

“You’ve completely lost it.”

“Uh, no, I didn’t. I totally won.”

“That’s not what I–” Bucky starts but stops himself when you grin at him devilishly.

He sighs, asking instead, “Should we go looking for her?”

“I guess so,” you shrug. “We’re not exactly cut to be her saviours right now. I’m pretty sure she knows the layout of the hospital better than we do if she’s been haunting it for fifteen years.”

“Where did you get that number?” he demands.

“Does it matter?” you urge. “Didn’t realise you’re a valid ghost only if you have a certain number of years in haunting.”

Bucky ignores you, taking off down the hall.

“If you had to haunt a hospital or a ship, what would you choose?” you quip, matching his pace.

“Hospital,” he answers without thinking much.

“Why?”

“I spent a lot of time in them,” he tells you, voice clear. “Steve’s mom was a nurse. We’d meet her there a lot when he got his ribs broken or his nose busted.”

The memory, though faint, is enough to pull a smile from him.

“He also used to be sick a lot, so I used to come pick up his medicine for him,” he adds. “They used to know us by name because we’d be there nearly every second day.”

You exhale a small laugh. “Every hospital in the state of New York has a chart for Steve even now.”

“Fuckin’ guy just dosn’t learn.” Bucky shakes his head with affection-laced irritation.

The hallways stretch out endlessly, dim and wide. A few doors line the walls, some ajar, revealing only darkness inside. The silence is unnerving, broken only by the soft sound of you and your footsteps.

Bucky looks over at you. “What about you?”

“What about me?” you hum, small smile still on your face.

“What would you haunt?

“Ship, I guess,” you reply. “I’ve always wanted to be a pirate.”

“Should be your next job.”

“You gonna come with? We’ll turn it into a vlog.

“Fuck no.”

“Well, thanks for taking the time to really consider it,” you sing, not really offended. “Way to let me down gently, Barnes.”

“What? It’s got nothin’ to do with you.” Bucky clarifies still, pausing before letting out, “I get seasick. Can’t be on water for more than five minutes before I’m throwing up all over the place. You want that in your vlog?”

It’s enough to elicit a laugh from you, that in turn makes the corner of his lip curl.

“We could always–

Right in front of him, something moves darts across the wall at the end of the hall.

It cuts you off mid-sentence too, the both of you glancing at each other before turning towards it again.

Against the glare of your flashlight, another shadow darts across the wall.

“That’s what she was talking about,” you whisper, slightly in disbelief that she wasn't wrong. “Shadow people. Do you think they got to her?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, continuing to walk on ahead.

“Um, hello?” you scramble to catch up with him. “Where is your self preservation?”

“Against what?” he asks stoically.

“That,” you say pointedly at the wall, when another figure darts across the wall and disappears out of sight.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “It’s a shadow, the fuck’s it gonna do?”

“Haven’t you heard of shadow demons? Succumbing to darkness?” you chastise.

Bucky stops walking, standing solidly in the middle of the hallway.

“Okay,” he says, refusing to budge.

The hall goes silent, no movement other than the steady rise and falls of your chest.

You stare at him. “Now what.”

“I'm waiting for them to do something,” he says. “I’m waiting to succumb to the darkness.”

“You’re so annoying,” you bite, dragging him along with you. “And I’m tired, we’ve been walking for like, eight hundred hours. Let’s go.”

“We’ve been here for two hours,” he reminds you, taking a turn into the corner that the shadows disappeared into. “You did this to yourself.”

“Fine, next time I’ll bring an electric scooter with me.” You huff. “And I won’t even let you use it.”

“Where’d Brenda fuckin’ go?” Bucky mumbles, eyes squinting into the darkness to see if there are any clues.

“Where are you guys going?” Someone pipes up from behind you, sending the hairs on his neck up.

The both of you spin around instantly, arms clenched in a fighting stance.

“Sorry, it's a habit to take the scenic route back.” She chuckles, unfazed. “Not a lot to do when you’ve been here so long.”

The both of you lower your hands slowly, letting out an exhale.

“Y’all ready to head out?” she inquires, coolly. “I think it’s time we all get some rest.”

The walk back is relatively quicker, ater she leads you down a path she calls a shortcut.

The only thing that slowls you down are the occasional stops you had to make for her back ache.

Right by the entrance of the hospital, she holds onto the door frame again in the midst of explaining who was haunting the basements.

After a particularly hard exhale and a clamour to stand back up, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat to ask, “Have you tried this stretch?”

“What?” Brenda asks, eyes curious.

“Learnt it in physio. Doesn’t cure it, but it helps,” he explains, craning his neck to the sides, before taking a step ahead towards her.

You watch him in thinly veiled delight as he shows her exactly what joint to bend and in which angle, and the degree to which she had to pivot.

He even uncomfortably guides her shoulders in the strangest yoga session you’d ever witnessed.

“Should help,” Bucky mumbles, taking a step away.

She raises her shoulders and drops it, lips pursuing and bows raising in a look that seems impressed. The small hunch she carried wit her seems to have disappeared too.

“Let’s go,” Bucky doesn’t wait for a thanks or anything, taking a step away from her and towards the exit.

“Now that you’ve fixed her back ache, how do we fix her haunting the place?” you ask lowly.

“She’s not a fuckin’ ghost, she’s fine,” he whispers back.

“Nothing about what she’s said tonight is normal,” you argue.

The night is clear and cool when you step out, the musty scent of the building dissipating almost immediately.

“Just say bye, we’re fuckin’ leaving,” Bucky shoots.

You sigh loudly, giving him a glare at his lack of helpfulness before plastering a smile on your face and turning around.

“Well, thanks for everything, Brenda,” you say, turning around to stick your hand out. “We sure couldn’t have–”

But she’s gone.

“Holy shit,” you say.

Bucky looks over his shoulder at the disturbance, before turning around fully. “Oh, fuck off.”

“I told you she was a ghost,” you gush. “You fixed her back ache and now she has crossed over to the other side.”

“Shut up,” he replies, looking all over the place for a sign of where she could have disappeared to.

“You did it, Bucky, you helped a lonely spirit,” you cheer.

“I did not.”

“Hey!” Someone shouts from afar, commanding your attention to the gate again.

“Not again,” Bucky mumbles, eyes snapping shut.

“More ghosts,” you point out excitedly. “Come on, Charon, ferry those spirits–”

“You ferry your own spirits, I’m going to sleep,” he interjects, fully intending on ignoring the person at the gate and simply getting in the car.

“What are you guys doing here?” A man pants, jogging up to the both of you before Bucky had the time to leave.

“We were just taking a look around,” you say, sticking your hand out, much to Bucky’s displeasure. “We heard the place was haunted.”

“Ah, I see,” he replies, taking in your appearance. “Podcasters?”

“No,” Bucky replies instantly.

“We were just leaving,” you cut in. “We already got a tour by this ghost, and Bucky totally sent her to the afterlife.”

“I did not,” he seethes.

“She disappeared after saying ominous shit this entire evening, what do you call that?” you challenge.

“Going home,” Bucky responds, frustrated that he was clearly not afforded the same privilege.

“Uh–” the guy holds up his finger. “--not to intrude, but you got a tour by a ghost?”

“Yes,” you bubble over with excitement.

“And this ghost… did they have a backache?”

Bucky’s interest piques, the irritation giving way to intrigue .

“You know her?” you puzzle.

“Uh yeah, that’s Brenda,” he admits sheepishly. “She’s very much alive.”

Bucky would have sworn he had never been this elated in his life, but unfortunately he realises very quickly that he simply does not care.

“She said she was a security guard here– wait, who are you?” you tilt your head at him, seemingly not upset at all. It reduces Bucky’s non-existent triumph even more.

“Travis Dowell, Labyrinth Inc. representative,” he says, shaking your hand. “We’re–”

“--the company that bought the place,” you complete, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Brenda was a security guard here for nearly thirty years. We had to let go of her when we bought the hospital. We’ve been trying to turn it into an apartment for years, but there’s a lot of red tape that we have to get past because of healthcare reasons.”

“Yeah, she told us that it got bought,” you follow along.

“Hospital was in the worst financial situation possible. There was just no way out.” He shrugs. “But she was super attached to this place. She didn’t take the redevelopment plans well, so she’s taken it upon herself to make sure it never happens, I guess? I don’t know, she spends a lot of time here convincing people that it’s haunted so that people don’t build anything here. She’s got an apartment close by so she knows when someone’s around. You’ll probably find her there, if you want.”

“You guys know about her?” Bucky questions, crease between his eyebrows.

“Uh, yeah, we do,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We sorta ignore her. Her schtick’s annoying, but it’s not the reason we haven’t demolished this place yet. Once all the zoning issues get cleared up, the building’s coming down. And besides, all the PR’s just gonna have people pay a shit ton to stay here. You know, novelty of it being haunted, and all that.”

“How’d you know we were here?” you ask pointedly.

“We’ve set up motion sensors in the place?” he replies. “You may have seen them. The red lights in the operation rooms. We know she takes people there.”

“Oh, that’s what that was,” you turn to Bucky who simply shakes his head lightly.

“Yeah, she really goes the extra mile.” Travis shifts from one leg to the other. “There’s raccoons in the morgue that start running around if she hits the door. What else… oh yeah, she’s made a hole in one of the isolation rooms to make noises through the wall.”

Bucky wonders what will happen of all the footage now that none of it was essentially real. It made sense why she kept trying to find out where the video was going to be posted and how many people were going to view it now, as if a large number of views were going to save her beloved building.

“So you’ll just let her do whatever until the demolition happens?” you question.

“If it gets her to stop vandalising our office downtown.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t make a difference to us either way.”

“Right. So the real horror…” you say. “...is capitalism.”

Travis stares at you, before raising and dropping his shoulders. “Sure.”

“Alright.” You blow out an exhale. “Well, was anything about tonight real?”

“I mean, she really does have back pain,” he adds helpfully.

You turn to Bucky. “Net positive, then.”

Sure. Why the fuck not.

“Okay, Travis, thanks for this. You’ve been an immense help,” you say aloud, hoisting the camera onto your shoulders. “You can watch us on The Graveyard Shift, if we can figure out what to do with all these videos now.”

“Sorry about that,” he replies, shoving his fists into his pocket. “Good night.”

You watch as he turns and jogs away to his car that was parked a bit closer to the gate than yours was.

Bucky plucks the camera off your shoulder and places it under his arm, even though he’s well aware you can carry fifteen of them at once.

“That was fun,” you tell him, seemingly over it already.

“I’m fuckin’ starving,” he replies.

Bucky should be glad then, that he didn’t bother with the children’s ward, if nothing about tonight was real–

“Travis, wait,” you shout all of a sudden. “What about the shadows?”

“What shadows?” he calls back, confused.

“The shadow people moving across the hall from the isolation room?”

He raises his eyebrows. “We haven't heard reports of that.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Bucky mumbles.

“Hell yeah,” you reply, knocking into his shoulder. “Haunted hospital, baby.”

When you walk into the dining room, you don’t really expect anyone to be there that late at night.

But fiery red hair pulled into a ponytail and an oversized t-shirt perched at the kitchen counter catches you off guard, dulling the arguing between you and Bucky as you argue the logistics of Brenda having a hand in the shadow demons.

“Took you guys long enough,” Nat keeps her mug down on the counter before hopping off the chair. You note that it’s the same one you got her a few weeks ago from the flea market, the blue ceramic one.

“Oh, hi!” you smile wide, when she pulls you into a hug. “I thought you were in Lagos.”

“I was,” she replies, pulling away. “Got done early.”

“Of course you did. Overachiever.”

In the end of the common room, Bucky can hear the faint sounds of late night infomercials play through the TV. Clint’s legs hung off the couch as he lay snoring in front of it, blanket dropped on the floor in a heap.

“Hot chocolate?” she offers.

“I’m good, we went to the drive-through before coming back.” You beckon with your shoulder towards Bucky.

She finally turns to him. “Hey.”

Bucky gives her a curt nod, glad that she’s back safe.

“Why were you out so late?” She gives him a onceover, before raising an eyebrow. “Together.”

“Hospital date.”

“Video shoot,” he says at the same time, glaring at you. You shrug.

Nat’s lip trails up into a smirk. “Put on your big boy pants and finally admit your crush?”

Bucky drags a palm down his face. “I do not have a crush.”

“If you say so,” she concedes innocently, eyeing him over the rim of her hot chocolate.

“Are you all in on this? Do you have a quota to reach?” he groans. “Why’s everyone asking me this?”

“Who is ‘everyone’?” you sound delighted.

“If you don’t want people to call you out on our shit, maybe don’t walk around with heart eyes,” Nat comments.

Buck’s look is ice cold, but Nat just gives him a wink when you laugh.

“Hey, I needed to talk to you about something.” She turns to you. “You free for a second?”

“Always,” you reply in earnest.

Nat leads you a few steps away, hand on your shoulder.

Bucky takes his seat at the counter, stealing a sip from Nat’s mug. Of course, it was fantastic. Overachiever.

He tunes out intentionally, focusing on the fact that Clint was splayed out on the couch with the TV on a low volume. He knows for a fact the blonde was asleep, and probably would wake up with the worst neck pain in his life, but this was the life he chose.

After watching Clint nearly fall off the couch twice, he looks away, not intending on prying on your conversation but vaguely watching the interaction out of the corner of his eye.

He frowns at what he sees. Nat’s face has turned solemn while she talks to you in hushed tones. Your eyebrows were pulled together, arms crossed over your chest.

Bucky feels a shift in the air, but he’s not sure what exactly has gone down.

Nat finally tells you something surely, and you nod. She cups the side of your face and you force out a smile at her, before her hand drops.

The both of you make your way back to him. He turns his gaze back to the counter.

“You owe me a hot chocolate,” Nat tells him, before giving him a quick kiss on the temple and stealing her cup right back.

“I barely drank any,” he retorts, eyes still trained on you.

The TV clicks off and she drags a half asleep Clint back down the hall to his bedroom while the man rubbed at his shoulders, trailing behind her obediently.

Meanwhile, you grab a glass of water from the tap, drinking it slowly as you head towards the elevator.

“G’night, Buck,” you tell him, passing by him.

“Hold on,” he says, voice less gruff than before as he watches you, face tight, “What’s going on?

You observe him for a few long seconds, but he gets the sense you aren’t exactly looking at him. Your eyes are slightly glazed over, and your mind is… elsewhere.

“What do you do when people refuse to let go of something you’ve already escaped?” you ask finally.

“What do you mean?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together tighter.

“Do you feel like everyone’s eyes are on you?” you say, voice strange. “Like there’s nowhere to go?”

“Where is this coming from? What’d Nat tell you?”

It seems to snap you out of whatever funk you were in, at least partially. “It’s probably nothing.”

His frown only deepens. “Is someone threatening you?”

“No, nothing like that.” You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s gonna be fine.”

Bucky stares after you as you press the button to the elevator. He isn’t really sure what to make of the what you just shared. He isn’t even sure he should ask Nat about it later on considering that she didn’t want him listening in now.

He watches the light above the elevator light up before a ding sounds through.

“Just so you know–”

Bucky’s eyes snap back to you, one step in the elevator.

“I had a codename, too,” you tell him. “I just never liked it.”

Bucky is only left staring as you disappear into the elevator, leaving him in silence.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

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Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader

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akutasoda · 11 months ago

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Heyeyey can I request boothill, Sunday and aventurine with a fem s/o who’s always on her phone? Like even when it’s charging or even when they’re cuddling she just has to be on her phone?

screentime overload

synopsis - how are they with a s/o who cannot put their phone down?

includes - aventurine, sunday, boothill

warnings - fem!reader (no pronouns used), fluff, crack, wc - 721

aventurine ★↷

↪he can be a bit of a fifty fifty when it comes to his phone. normally the only time he uses it is for IPC relevant things, messaging you or ratio and if he's really bored, mindless scrolling. his work can keep him rather busy and so he doesn't exactly have the time to sit around all day.

↪so he found it quite amusing to a degree when he noticed how absorbed you were in your phone. it really didn't take long for him to notice how you practically treated it as a lifeline because no matter where you were your phone was near aswell - more accurately near to your line of sight.

↪it did bring him some comfort in knowing that you would always see his messages because he could always take an accurate guess that you were on your phone and able to respond as quick as possible.

↪however he did find it quite ridiculous that sometimes he'd find you curled up by your charger, phone still in hand. surely you had other things to be doing? maybe you're phone needed a break from you eventually?

↪it didn't bother him per say, but he would prefer it if, when he saw you after a while, that you actually make the effort to pry your gaze from your phone and to him.

↪sometimes he can be quite the menace, especially when, in the morning, you wake up and search for your phone but don't get very far as aventurine would have you in a near death grip hug.

sunday ★↷

↪definitely isn't a phone kind of person. sure he has one but it's mainly for work or managing the dreamscape and most likely only had a couple of actual contacts - yours and robins. he probably could go very happily without his phone.

↪and so he truly doesn't understand why you're so attached to yours. at first he thought that you probably had something going on that needed managing, but when he saw you day in and day out staring down at your screen, he got slightly worried and confused.

↪it baffled him that you could actually spend so much time staring down at that screen but eventually he started getting more concerned that you were causing permanent damage to your eyes. he's the type of person who would tell you about the damage phones can do to you when he sees you laser focused on your phone.

↪in a similar way, he does find a slight comfort in knowing that if he needs to reach you he can. the one day you don't actually get his messages and respond very quickly is the day he panics.

↪sunday isn't exactly the keenest when it comes to physical affection, but when he does come around and finally gets time off to spend with you, he does not want you on your phone for that. if you get unlucky he might start contemplating hiding your phone.

boothill ★↷

↪another fifty fifty. he isn't exactly literate and so any messages are sent via voice recordings and such, this also probably means that he doesn't spend that much time on his phone in general - especially as a galaxy ranger who has bounties to hunt instead.

↪that being said, his phone gets put through the wringer alot. it isn't exactly his top priority in keeping safe when on a mission, so he either loses it or it gets very badly damaged to the point that sometimes you can't even tell it was meant to be a phone.

↪so he did struggle a bit to to comprehend how and why you spent so much time on your phone. he only started getting annoyed when he realised that your phone was robbing him from your affection and time. boothill did once threaten to eat your phone.

↪he still finds it very ridiculous that you spend so much time in your phone, especially when he has caught you multiple times using your phone while it's charging or when you really shouldn't be.

↪but he doesn't mind too much as long as you actually still give him some affection and don't spend that time with your phone in hand again - especially when he gets time to return to you after hunting a bounty or two.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

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quirekey · 4 months ago

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ORION PAX x D16 x GN!READER

[ orion Pax x D16 x gn!racer!reader ] [ Part 1 ]

PART 2 PART 3

Orion Pax and D16 slammed onto the ground and watched as the other racers flew past them into the finish line. The intimidating sound of wind flying by them filled their audio receptors and the two miners looked at each other with amused looks. The two pushed themselves up and dragged each other to the finish line.

You turn to see the two struggling and you find it somewhat humorous. You being friends with some of the miners gave you the knowledge that Sentinel either would be fuming or extremely glad that they made the race way more entertaining. You decided to not take your chances and quickly pick the two up, flinging them over your shoulders. The two were caught off guard and yelped as you ran off to the medical center with them hanging on you.

You ran to an empty room in the medical building and placed them down, towering over the two miners. Considering the two didn’t transform during the race and their body and paint were chipped and dusty clearly indicated that they were merely just cogless miners. The duo stood out to you due to their contrasting looks. One had a complementary scheme, a vibrant red and blue. The other was a round and choppy greyish yellow. They were both charming in their ways so you decided to speak up.

”Hey, what were you two doing in the race? It’s racers only.”

The red and blue one looked in awe and the grey one looked with absolute admiration glistening in his optics. They both were silent for a few seconds till the red and blue one spoke up.

”Hey, we were just a little lost… Mind if you take us out of here? We didn’t mean to join the race.”

He then looked at his friend with a side-eye and his friend also spoke up to seemingly back him up.,.

”Y- yeah…”

The grey one seemed way more offensive and sheepish, so you decided to introduce yourself.

”Well, it’s nice to meet you two. I am the ultimate racer, (y/n)-“

“Y/N! The one who rules all of the tracks of Iacon!”

The grey one then continued your sentence off with. You chuckled at his strange enthusiasm, you were quite surprised that he knew your catchphrase too, you don’t say it quite often.

”It’s so good- great! To meet you! It is an honour!”

He took your hand and shook it with absolute energy. The red and blue one stepped closer to the grey one, patting his back and chuckling.

”Name’s Orion Pax, my friend here is named D16.”

D16 then nodded, still smiling widely and holding onto your hand. He realises that he is being embarrassing and quickly pulled away, flustered to the core. Both you and Orion laughed quietly at his flushed state.

”I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you, (Y/N)! You are the best racer in all of Cybertron! I have all of your merch!”

“Oh! You're one big fan, aren’t you, D16? I’m glad to meet you, little guy”

You gave D16 a gentle little helm-ruffle which made D16 fall deeper into his state of embarrassment. Orion Pax loved the show he was getting, watching his own best-friend gain affection and attention from his biggest idol that he admired for his whole life. D16 leaned in when you pulled away, trying to gain more physical interaction with you. You smiled, you already now adore him and his little frame and personality.

“So, what merch do you even have? I don’t think it’s easy to get your hands on them…”

”Everything! Your stickers, magnets, posters, everything!”

He clenched his hands in exaggeration with the biggest smile yet. Though you didn’t believe him too much, you still went along with it and chuckled, returning the smile.

D16 then showed off his sticker that Orion Pax got him. It was a limited edition and holographic one of you, the type that could blind a bot if you reflected a bright light off it. You hovered your hand over his arm, where the sticker was placed. You were definitely and extremely surprised that a miner somehow got their hands on it, not that it was impossible. Now you know he was a massive fan of yours.

”It’s true! He even goes to every race you are in, which is all of them of course. He sometimes breaks my audio receptors because of how loud he is when he is cheering for you.”

“Shut up.”

D16 nudged Orion Pax, scoffing due to the treatment Orion was giving him. You chuckled and spoke up.

“I should bring you guys back to your… area. I need to get you guys out of here is all. Come on now.”

TO BE CONTINUED or end

(if you guys want a part 2, just say so :)

#transformers #transformers one #tfone #d16 #orion pax #megatron #optimus prime #transformers x reader #d16 x reader #orion pax x reader #optimus prime x reader #megatron x reader #fanfic

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cosmicalily · 6 months ago

Text

"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

procedural memory | kim seungmin x fem!reader

procedural memory: a type of implicit memory that is categorised as the unconscious guide to the processes and tasks performed on a daily basis.

author's note: this might be one of my favourite seungmin fics i've ever written. and maybe i'm biased because he is my bias and i love strawberry matcha, but i think sometimes it's okay to be self indulgent. enjoy!

There were many things that Seungmin would do without realising, as if he was on autopilot. Actions that were ingrained into his daily routine, little activities that made up his day without his awareness. The way he made his bed, the double knot he always tied on his shoelaces, the route he took to the coffee shop where he worked. He loved his routine; he loved simplicity and consistency.

At work, he thought even less about his actions. He was a quick learner, and had mastered the art of perfect coffee early on. He heard the words ‘latte’ or ‘flat white’ and somehow the completed drink would appear in front of him thirty seconds later.

“Do you do iced strawberry matchas?” a voice asked, snapping Seungmin out of his coffee-scented daze. He looked at the shot he’d started running for a flat white and then at you, cheeks pink from the cold and eyes sparkling. A soft blue scarf was wrapped around your neck, covering your chin, and you wore a cosy navy cable knit sweater, just a little too big at the sleeves.

Seungmin thought intently. “We don’t,” he said truthfully, drumming his fingers on the benchtop. “But give me a second. I’ll try and make something for you.”

You beamed in excitement. “Thank you!”

“It’s no problem,” Seungmin gave a half smile back, digging around for the matcha powder. “Although, I have to say, who orders an iced drink in the middle of winter?”

Your cheeks flushed a little pinker and you rolled your eyes. “Shut up, it’s business for you, isn’t it? And I’ll tip, obviously, because it’s a custom order. They just don’t taste as good warm. I tried it once, and it was awful.”

“Was it?” Seungmin paused, tipping the ice cubes from your cup back into the tray and placing it into the freezer. “I’m going to try and change your mind. Out of confidence as a good barista, but also out of concern for your health, because you’re literally going to freeze as soon as you step outside with ice in your system.”

“And if I don’t like it?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Deal,” you agreed, leaning against the counter and watching as he poured the frothed strawberry milk, creating a little bear design. He leaned to grab a lid, but you knocked his hand away. “It’ll cover the art you did,” you protested, and he shook his head in amusement.

You breathed in the soft, sweet scent and took a sip, thinking hard. Seungmin watched intently, his attention distracted from the three coffee orders he had lined up to complete next. You smiled, and his face softened. “Good?” he asked.

“It’s shit,” you deadpanned, then burst out laughing. “It’s amazing! How much do I owe you for it?”

“Nothing,” Seungmin replied, eyes shining.

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gave you a warning look. “Do you do this often, then?” you asked, taking another long sip of your drink.

“What do you mean?”

“Save girls with silly drink orders from hypothermia.”

“Sure, it’s my favourite pastime,” Seungmin replied seriously, though his eyes twinkled mischievously. “No, not ever before. You’re the first, Strawberry.”

Your smile widened at the nickname. “Even if you’re lying, I feel special. Thank you…” you paused.

“Seungmin,” he finished, handing over a latte to a man behind you.

“Thank you, Seungmin. I’ll be back, I promise!”

He nodded. “I know you will. See you around, Miss Matcha.”

You snorted and walked towards the door, spinning around and blowing him a quick kiss. He winked and you burst into a fit of laughter, and once you were properly out of sight, he let a full smile creep across his face.

By your third visit to the coffee shop, he didn’t even need a prompt to make your order. By the fifth, your drink would be sitting, ready for you, extra hot. Even though you no longer had a reason to wait, you always stayed to talk to him, and he was thankful you did.

Soon, Seungmin became unconsciously aware of your routine, of your timing, of your daily scarf rotation. Once winter ended, he caved and made you your first iced strawberry matcha, which you declared better than any other iced drink you’d ever consumed. He still refused to let you pay, but he was always accepting of your newfound habit of leaning across the counter and giving him a quick kiss before you left for the morning. Initially on the cheek, but by mid spring, on the lips. Your kisses tasted of your mauve lipstick, cinnamon, and of course, strawberry matcha.

After a year of dating, you moved into his apartment. Seungmin, a lover of routine and consistency, found himself mesmerised by your sporadic actions and in the moment decisions. It didn’t frustrate him, the way he worried it would. Your presence was a constant, something dependable that he centred his new, irregular routine around, filled with evening walks and beach day trips. He learnt your habits, and soon, your actions were as familiar to him as his own. He would still make his bed in the morning, and you'd help him, finishing the job off with the two jellycat puppies you'd bought for your six month anniversary. He would tie a double knot in his shoelaces, and wait for you to slip on your ballet flats. Whilst you always had your signature drink at his shop, he knew you loved chamomile before bed, and there was always a mug of it by your bedside after you'd gotten out of the shower.

And of course, you did the same for him, but in your own way. You'd lay on top of him, playing with his hair for hours, explaining every single thing you adored about him. You cooked him dinner, and you'd sit on the counter beside him as he did the dishes. It was routine. You were each other's routines.

He kept working at the coffee shop, but now as a manager, although he always insisted on making your drink himself, and you would visit him, sometimes bringing your laptop and glasses with you to set up in a corner and work, other times bringing whatever book you were currently engrossed in.

“Hi baby,” you smiled up at him, stretching your arms and dog-earing your page.

“You know I hate when you do that,” he groaned, sitting beside you on the bench. Nevertheless, he pressed a kiss against your cheek and you giggled.

“I know, but like, it shows the love I have for my books. The ones that have crumpled pages and tea stains and frayed edges are the ones I read the most.”

Seungmin shook his head. “I’m just teasing. I love you and your broken books.”

“They aren’t broken-” you protested, but he cupped your face in his hands and silenced you with a soft kiss.

“I love you,” he repeated, eyes glossed over.

“I love you too,” you gazed back at him. Your book fell off your lap, but you didn’t move to grab it. The strawberry matcha Seungmin had brought over was probably cooling, but you didn’t care. It was moments like this where everything felt like muscle memory, where nothing felt new or uncomfortable. He was familiar.

He grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers in his. You gently stroked his thumb, then whined when he let go of your hand to reach in his pocket. “What are you doing?” you asked, then you paused.

He’d slotted a ring on your finger.

“You can say no,” he said, looking you directly in the eye. "You can take it off. But it feels right for me. I saw it in the window the other day and I didn’t even think, I just bought it. Which is crazy, because you know I overthink and overplan everything.”

“I know, you’re a dork,” you smiled, but your eyes were glassy. “Why the fuck would I say no? Of course I’ll marry you.”

Seungmin breathed out and pulled you in a tight embrace. He felt warm, he smelled like coffee, and the skin of his neck was soft against your cheek. “I’m glad, because I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“I’m only doing it for the strawberry matcha, of course,” you quipped, chuckling.

“I’m only doing it out of pity,” he added.

“Dickhead.”

“Asshole.”

You leaned against him, his arms around your waist. He kissed your cheek, your forehead, your shoulder, and you rubbed his back. A buzz went off in his back pocket, a reminder that his break was over.

“So,” he broke the hug, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your drink’s probably cold. So I guess, as a good barista, and now a good fiance, I probably have to make you a new one.”

“I’m gonna make out with you for hours tonight, Kim Seungmin,” you declared. “You’re my dream boy.” You blew him a kiss as he stood up, taking your drink with him, and he winked in return.

You watched his reflection on the steel coffee machine, and saw him smile.

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cliosunshine · 5 months ago

Text

𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐈

Jason Todd x dragon trainer!reader

Summary: after a portal mysteriously opened in your world, setting all of your dragons loose, you must find a way to take them all back home before it's too late and before you catch feelings for a certain cute guy in a red helmet

Warnings: none, slight mention of mythological creature abuse, Jason and reader begin to bond

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: second part to my first ever fic! I was happy so many of you enjoyed it, please let me know if you'd like a third part <3

As you walked around the cave, all you could do was admire the advanced technology surrounding you. You were craning your head up to get a better view of the animatronic T-Rex, a cup of tea in your hand. It was kindly offered to you by what you could only assume to be Batman’s butler, Alfred. The old man had kind eyes and also gave you a slice of pecan pie, which you really couldn’t refuse, especially after everyone in the room heard your stomach grumbling.

“So, tell me,” you started to say, swishing the amber liquid in your cup, “how can we find a way to get me and my dragons back home if we don’t know who opened the portal in the first place and where it was activated?”

Batman let out a contemplative hum, his back turned to you. He was sitting at the console typing away. “We need to check all of the security cameras in the city and also take a look at the air’s static and electromagnetic radiations that have possibly interfered with the electronic devices in Gotham”

The others were in the room as well, each one of them with their brows furrowed, having clearly switched to ‘professional’ mode, as you liked to call it.

With their domino masks and helmets gone, you could see how the three young men – Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin – starkly resembled Batman. You didn’t know why they decided to reveal their identities. Thinking it over, you realised they actually didn’t since you couldn’t recognise them and they hadn’t given you their real names. It probably figured that since you came from another universe altogether, you’d pose no threat to their identity.

Your gaze lingered on Red Hood’s face. He had a rugged yet defined look to him that didn’t let your eyes glance away. Be it the greenish eyes, the white streak on is hair or the scar on his neck, but you couldn’t look away. You must’ve been staring pretty intensely since he lowered his gaze onto yours, a slight blush creeping up his neck and covering his ears.

You quickly looked away, your own face heating up in embarrassment at being caught.

Jason cleared his throat, trying his best not to let a chuckle escape him at your flustered reaction.

Cass raised a brow at you two, tilting her head to the side curiously.

“We should go out and stop the dragons before they cause even more damage,” quipped Dick all of a sudden, quickly rising to his feet with newfound energy.

You clasped your hands together, nodding in agreement.

“Yes! We should-”

Roarrr

Your brows furrowed at the noise. It clearly came from the batcave, but that wasn’t a voice you recognised at all.

You looked at the others with a puzzled expression. They all seemed rather calm and even amused by the sound.

“This way, Goliath, please, use your legs for once in your life-”

You turned to where Robin’s voice came and your expression lit up upon seeing the cutest and fluffiest red dragon just mere meters from you.

“Aww who’s this now?” you asked as you approached the creature.

Robin pushed the dragon towards you to no avail and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene.

“He’s- Goliath-” he explained between pushes, clearly out of breath.

The dragon eyed you warily.

You smiled softly at him, extending a hand for him to sniff, “He can probably smell the other dragons on me,” you explained as you saw his ears perk up upon smelling your skin.

He gave you a look of approval and you began stroking his red fur. It was far softer than you had anticipated and it had a weird feeling to it. You pulled your hand back, examining it.

You grimaced as you saw your entire hand covered in a shiny, slippery substance.

“Why is he covered in oil?”

Robin gave you a pleading look for half a second, before regaining his usual stoic composure.

“He’s been itching a lot for the past few weeks and we figured that-…uhm…the best way to treat him was to put an ointment on his body,” he explained, your wild out gaze on his making him freak out internally that he somehow messed up.

“Poor Goliath,” you cooed at the dragon, scratching his chin. You were grateful that you couldn’t bring Obsidian in the cave with you or he would have thrown a jealous fit. You continued your ministrations as you gave him a once over. His skin was reddened because of the itch and the ointment and he continued to scratch his ears.

“I think he may have a skin infection,” you diagnosed, cleaning your hands with a tissue Robin gave you. “If I were at the sanctuary, I would make him a sage compress and given him a two-week treatment.”

You sighed in contemplation, wondering what to do.

Robin came over to you, a map in his hands, “Gotham’s botanical park is a few blocks away from here. Nobody’s there during the night so maybe we could break in and get the ingredients you need.”

You raised your brows at him, amused by the fact that a vigilante would actually commit a break in and theft.

Sounds of agreement followed his proposition and you could only nod along.

“We can drop by and get the ingredients while we search for the other dragons,” suggested Nightwing, looking over at you. You nodded again.

“Great then,” he said, clapping his hands once, “We need to separate so we can cover more ground,”

Immediately hands flew up and shouts were exchanged about who was going to team up with who.

“I wanna go with the bat!” snickered Spoiler, “I can’t wait to see him try to catch a dragon”

Batman still had his back turned, but was definitely listening to the conversation because his shoulders stiffened.

“No, I must go with Batman, I’m Robin after all-”

“You wouldn’t even tease him like I would!”

The bickering stopped as everyone’s attention snapped onto Orphan, who was signing something.

“What did she say?” you asked, not being able to understand her and honestly just having learned a few signs for one of your deaf dragons, nothing more.

Nighwing beamed, “She said that you and Hood over here should team up and search for both the dragons and the herbs together”

Oh.

You and Red Hood both looked at each other and you suddenly registered what was bound to happen.

You and this incredibly attractive stranger on Obsidian’s back.

Oh fuck.

You laughed nervously and he seemed to mimic you.

“Uhm, alright then,” you squeaked out, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, even Batman’s.

“Off you go, then, shoo,” Nightwing escorted you to the exit of the batcave, earning more than a few grumbled cusses from Red Hood – or should you just call him Hood?

You hardly managed to choke out a “goodbye” before the door closed centimetres from your face.

“What a dickhead,” said the vigilante next to you, this time with only his domino mask on, “I apologise on his behalf- he doesn’t know when to shut up,” he says with an irritated groan.

You chuckle at that, reassuring him. As you approached your dragon, you glanced up at him once more, taking in how his sharp features contrasted greatly with the soft curls of his black hair.

The moonlight gave him a sort of vampiresque look and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes seemed to…glow? It seemed as if his blueish-greenish eyes did a complete 180 and became this neon green colour.

You narrowed your eyes at that, continuing to walk.

Meanwhile, Jason side eyed you the entire walk back to Obsidian.

His mind wandered as he tried to come up with possible explanations about this whole situation. Who were you and where did you even come from. He wasn’t buying the whole “Oh, I come from Earth!” thing and neither were his brothers. Maybe there was a possibility that you truly came from a parallel universe were apparently dragons existed, but then why hadn’t they had at least one encounter with these anomalies before?

He thought back to Superman and Krypton. Although it probably wasn’t the exactly same thing, he guessed that if Bruce was allies and friends (although he’d never admit it) with Clark, then anything was possible.

He also found you really pretty and not alien-looking at all, but that’s beside the point.

His eyes wandered back to the lasso on your utility belt. He had sworn that when it was up in the air, swinging above your head in loose circles it looked exactly like Wonder Woman’s.

He had to ask you about that later. For now, he could only grief his bike even further as he took a good look at the dragon in front of him that looked like it wanted to tear his head off.

He could only reciprocate the glare as your back was turned to both of them, fishing out your list of ingredients that were needed to make the compress.

“Ok, so” you started, oblivious to the death stare contest between Jason and the dragon, “are you ready for a once-in-a-lifetime experience?”

Jason looked at your excited expression and gulped nervously when your dragon huffed begrudgingly, clearly not wanting to let him on.

“You sure about me getting on this thing?” Those were fighting words for the dragon, who shrieked offended at being called a thing.

You tried to not worsen things further, putting your palm out in dissuasion, smiling nervously.

“He can understand your every word, Hood” you explained, your nervous and apologetic tone prompting Jason to see in the corner of his eye how the black dragon huffed in agreement, the smoke coming out of his nostrils making him wince.

He rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Sorry, I didn’t realize”

You waved him off with a smile, “It’s all good. Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

Jason took a second to think to himself – have I ever rode a horse before? - . He didn’t know if he had no memory of doing so from all the concussions he’s had this year alone or because your gaze was making him slightly nervous. Yeah, it was probably the latter.

“No,” was all he manged to blurt out, really not wanting to get on your dragon’s back.

“Good, because it’s nothing like it!” You laughed out, your shoulders relaxing, “I feared you would’ve been one of those people who tried to get Obi moving by slightly kicking on his stomach because trust me �� it would’ve ended badly”

Jason didn’t find humour in that, but chuckled along nevertheless.

He watched as you hopped on your dragon’s back with elegance and precision, not a single movement wasted. He also took notice at how Obsidian helped you up by lowering one of his wings. He put his helmet on, missing your disappointed look at his now covered face.

“Come on, take my hand and put your right foot on Obi’s wing bone” you instructed as you pointed at where your foot previously was, your other hand outstretched for him to take.

Jason looked at your hand, then at your face. He looked at your hand again.

You couldn’t possibly lift half his body weight up with a single hand, right? A hand that was significant smaller than this, nonetheless.

“Are you sure about this? I’m a big guy, I don’t want to – Oh shit!”

He didn’t finish his sentence as you bent down to grab his hand and Obsidian nudged his foot on his wing, only to lift his whole body up as if he weighted nothing and fling him up in the hair. Jason screamed as he tried not to fly right into the bush behind you. He thankfully didn’t as your tight grip on his hand prevented him from becoming the next rocket man of Gotham.

He landed right behind you, his whole body shaking as he tried to regain his composure.

“Don’t worry about me, Obi does all the heavy lifting,” you said as you laughed so much that tears started to form at the corners of your eyes. Your dragon seemed to mimic your laugh with huffs and puffs as he moved his head up and down with closed eyes.

Behind you, sitting with an unamused expression and arms crossed over his chest, Jason had a half-mind to just ditch the two of you and walk to the botanic garden alone.

Your laugh quieted down and you looked back at him, this time with a genuinely apologetic look in your eyes.

He lifted the corners of his mouth ever so slightly, thankful for his helmet covering his face.

At least someone had the guts to mess with him like that.

“Hold on tightly. I’m warning you, I’ll try to go as slowly as I can but Obi doesn’t like men that much and will actively try to throw you off, so it’s better if you hold onto me, that way he won’t do it,” you told Jason and he glanced down at the dragon, who was already looking at him with an already mischievous look in his eyes. Fucking hell. He hoped to survive his first ever dragon ride.

Jason lifted his hands that were previously on his lap and carefully held your waist, only his gloves and a few layers of clothes separating your skin from his. He swore he could feel the warmth radiating from your body.

“I said tighter, Hood,” you told him in a firmer tone, to which he responded by getting closer to you and pressing his chest to your back, his arms now circling your waist tightly.

He could feel your heartbeat picking up significantly and smiled to himself.

“O-okay, that’s better,” you managed to squeak out before tapping your dragon’s neck once.

The sudden movement made him spread out his wings and soon enough you found yourselves up in the air, taking in Gotham’s skyline from above.

Jason couldn’t help but bring you in even tighter, trying his best not to hinder your mobility as you tapped Obsidian’s ears to signal when to turn, opting your practiced tapping signs rather than having to shout out directions, now that you had someone else riding with you.

“Is this the place?” you turned around towards Jason as you got closer to a sign that had “Gotham Public Botanic Garden” written in dark green letters.

Jason nodded, not being able to utter a sound as the proximity between you two made him nervous. He was accustomed to being held from behind when he rescued civilians and tried to take them someplace safe, but to hold on to someone and trust them with his life as he travelled on a dragon’s back? Yeah, that was a new one for him.

You patted Obsidian’s back twice, prompting him to land near the entrance. Thankfully no one was in sight as Jason figured you would’ve gotten more than a few odd looks.

He was the first one to hop off the dragon’s back, already missing your body’s warmth as he tried to hold on to whatever remains where left of it on his leather jacket.

You then slid down, petting Obsidian’s snout with tenderness and placing your lips near his spiked cheek, “Thanks, Obi. Now let’s go, we need to find quite a few things to help Goliath out.”

As you made your way through the various greenhouses, Jason walked by your side and Obsidian on the opposite one, protecting you from harm.

If he could say one good thing about that damn dragon, Jason would praise him for his protectiveness over you. He noticed how, from the very start, he always kept his eyes trained on you, not missing a single sign of discomfort and immediately taking action when he felt like you were being threatened.

Other than that, he was a complete jerk.

You continued to walk in peaceful silence that was only interrupted by you telling him you found another herb needed for the compress.

When you had almost gone through the whole list, Jason spoke up.

“How do you know so much about dragons?” he asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

You smiled fondly at nothing in particular, as if reminiscing some good memories.

“You see,” you continued walking, your gaze never leaving the herbs in your hand, “I was absolutely distraught at how the majority of the people where I come from treat animals that aren’t your usual house pets, especially dragons. They would more often than not abuse, torture and kill them just for fun or to boast to others how they managed to kill a dragon-” you cut yourself off with a shaky breath, anger evident in your voice and your eyes.

Obsidian nudged your arm with a sad face, letting out a low grumble and you smiled weakly at him. Jason wanted to put an arm around your shoulders and pull you close to him, but he restrained himself.

“I found Obi one morning while working out in the park,” you continued, “and he was so cute, sitting there in that box that he accidentally had set on fire, so chubby and round with those big amber eyes- gosh he was adorable,” you chuckled, a single tear managing to escape and running down your cheek. Jason’s hand twitched by his side.

“I took him home. My parents were seething with rage at the thought of me taking care of a dragon, an animal everybody in our community despised. So I left home and went to live with my best friend, Katie, in a house near our hometown’s lake and from there, piece by piece, we learned more about dragons as we rescued them.”

Jason stayed silent, your words making him see you in a new light. He admired your strength and perseverance, your will to not give up and go against your parents to do what you knew was right. He saw a lot of himself in you and he liked that.

“That’s incredible…wait, I never got your name” he paused embarrassed, having completely forgotten to ask your name at the batcave.

You smiled softly, not a hint of offence in your kind eyes, “No biggie,” you shrugged light-heartedly, “it’s Y/N”.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks”

You stayed like that for a while, content in the silent agreement you both had settled upon. Jason liked you. you weren’t over the top like his siblings were, but also not a complete recluse who disdained human contact, as he often found himself to be like. You were…you. And he liked that.

Soon enough, you had gathered all your ingredients and were getting back onto Obsidian’s back. This time the dragon was much gentler with Jason. He probably felt the shift in demeanour you and him had during the walk and eased up on him. Jason was grateful for not getting hauled up like a ragdoll a second time.

As you were back up into the air, a sense of tranquillity engulfed the both of you before a faraway shriek reminded Jason that you still had another dozen or so more dragons to find and bring back to the manor.

Exchanging a look with you, he observed you directing Obsidian to where you had heard the sound, before a blaze interrupter your path and a pair of glowing eyes were set on the three of you.

Jason’s blood ran cold and his mouth moved faster than his thoughts could as he pointed a gun at the fire-spitting dragon.

“That’s the fucker that melted my bike!”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #dc x reader #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #dc comics #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x dragon trainer!reader #Of Dragons and Bats

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the-travelling-witch · 1 year ago

Text

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

summary: the human custom of sharing clothes had been an unfamiliar one for jade, but he has always been a quick study

pairing: jade leech x gn! reader (both have graduated nrc, but a lot of this is reliving school memories)

warnings: fluff, implied smaller reader; i think it made more sense in my head but have it anyway bc i never wanna shut up about him, please applaud my restraint to not name this ‘boyfriend material’

twisted wonderland masterlist

It was true that wearing clothes was a foreign feeling when Jade first came to the shore all those years ago. But he had come to like the human custom, no matter how tedious it might seem at times. Not only did he realise the way one dressed held a lot of power in the way one was perceived by others, it had also served him in making some fond memories.

The ones he remembered most vividly, however, were those which featured you at the centre of them. Through various means, like the course they had attended or familiarising himself with different types of media above sea level, Jade had learnt that sharing clothes was a thing done between close friends or romantic partners, often being hailed as a sweet gesture and being positively received by characters and audiences alike. So when you had caught the eel’s interest, he had decided to see what the fuss was all about.

Despite his tendency to curate situations which would bring about whatever outcome he desired, the first time the opportunity arose had been a happy coincidence. That day, it had started raining cats and dogs right as the bell signalling lunch break rang. Luckily, Jade’s last class of the morning had been in the building the cafeteria was in, so he could watch in amusement as students swarmed towards the building with various forms of rain repellent keeping them dry- or not.

You had been one of the poor, unfortunate souls who had left their umbrella at the dorm that day, a point made abundantly clear by the way you had sprinted with your PE uniform jacket held over your head in a feeble attempt of shielding yourself. By the time you had made it into the dry hallway, your jacket had been absolutely drenched, the rest of your clothes not faring much better. Witnessing your predicament and seeing a chance to put his theory to the test, Jade had slinked over to your side.

“Oya, if I had known you were this fond of water, I would have invited you to the Coral Sea before,” the eel had said, startling you with his sudden appearance. Your reaction had only served for the polite smile on his lips to grow a tad bit wider. “Yet, here I was under the impression humans don’t like getting their clothes wet. Perhaps I have been wrong?”

“You know well enough this wasn’t intentional, so drop the oblivious act, Jade,” you had sighed, rustling through your backpack for something and subsequently taking your eyes off him. “So what do you want? If you’re trying to rope me into a deal over a little bit of rain, I’ll have to disappoint–”

Something warm and dry had landed on your shoulders then, your gaze landing on the black fabric draped over your form first and wandering back to the tall student afterwards. With your mouth parted, opening and closing in the search of something to say, you had borne a strong resemblance to a fish out of water.

“I heard humans get sick easily after walking in the rain,” Jade had mused, tugging at his vest and shirt to make sure they sat correctly without his blazer, “and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“What are you–” You had shaken your head, overcoming your initial confusion as you began shrugging the jacket back off your shoulders. At that point you had been sure he had some ulterior motive and you hadn’t felt like picking up any shifts at Mostro Lounge that week. “I can’t take this from you.”

“Oh, but you can,” he had insisted with a smile, a gloved hand landing on your shoulder to keep the clothing in place. “If you are worried about my health, I am most touched. However, us mers are used to the cold and therefore aren’t as prone to catching one.”

“That wasn’t really what I was concerned about,” you had mumbled, crossing your arms. “I’m more worried about whatever strings come attached with this thing.”

“You wound me. Do you really think I would abuse my fellow student’s misery for personal gain?” Despite his words, he had chuckled at your resolute ‘yes, you would’. The hand on your shoulder had pressed into your upper back then to bring you in closer in order to throw you off with the newfound proximity, disguised as shielding you from the throng of people heading to lunch. “If this is what stands in between you and caring for your health, how about this: In return for accepting my blazer, you accompany me to lunch? I’ll consider us even then, I promise.”

You had studied the vice housewarden more closely, yet, as usual, his expression did not give anything away. Just then a chilly breeze had blown through the corridor, making you tremble as you instinctively pulled the blazer tighter around your body.

“Fine, I’ll accept,” you had relented through chattering teeth.

“Wonderful,” the eel had beamed down at you before guiding you forward, still with his fingers splayed over your upper spine. Students had parted like the sea when they had seen the second year approaching and it was a welcome change of pace from having to fight your way into a spot in the queue.

By the time you had found a table, you had slipped your arms through the sleeves of Jade’s jacket to better hold your tray. And when you rolled up the excess fabric to properly use your cutlery, Jade finally realised why lending someone your clothes was a popular trope in various media.

To say the piece was ill-fitting was an obvious remark, with Jade easily being one of the tallest students around, you were practically drowning in his jacket. It had been eye-openingly endearing for him to say the least. And that was even without factoring in the expression on people’s faces when they realised whose clothes you had been wearing, the Octavinelle band around your left arm added to the context of the scene being a dead giveaway. Yes, as a born predator of the sea, a possessive side of him had revelled in the feeling of staking his claim over you in this way.

But he had shoved the notion down as you had asked him if he liked the food that day and how his morning had been. While he had been able to tell you were still a little wary, cautiously phrasing your responses at first, falling into a casual conversation with you was easy enough. When the anecdote of his brother doing something reckless again made you snort before laughing, he had filed it away as something he wanted to see and hear more of, especially when he was the cause for it.

Lunch had passed a little too fast for the moray’s liking but with one glance at his watch and then one at the still pouring rain, he had quickly devised a plan to monopolise your time to the fullest before returning to your classes.

“Allow me to walk you back to your dorm, so you can change before your next lesson,” Jade had smiled as he pulled out his umbrella, his arm hovering around your back as you had exited the cafeteria. “I assure you, this favour comes with no strings attached.”

Looking back at it years later, perhaps that last part had been a lie, though he was sure neither of you minded. Because after that rainy day, you had interacted more frequently with pleasantly changed feelings.

On Jade’s side of things, he had been more fascinated with you and your reactions than ever and the image of you swaddled in his clothes had managed to stir these newfound emotions in him. You, on the other side, had started considering him as more than a devious loan eel and allowed the normally tightly locked thoughts and feelings for him to come out of their confinement little by little.

After playing cat and mouse for a while, you had taken all your courage, grabbed Jade by the collar and confessed, not able to withstand the tension and anticipation any longer. Of course, he had reciprocated your feelings in teasing delight, which, as your relationship had become public, had easily catapulted you up the list of the school’s lunatics in the eyes of many. But you couldn’t have been happier and, the initial complexities of navigating a new relationship aside, Jade was a dream of a boyfriend if he wasn’t hellbent on prodding and poking you for his own amusement.

So it came as no surprise that, during your school years, you had spent a lot of time at each other’s dorms when Jade wasn’t dragging you up some mountain with him. At that point, you’d felt as comfortable in his room as in yours, even if half of it was shared with the sentient tornado that was Floyd, leaving one half to be pristine and the other opposingly messy.

Jade fondly remembered the day you had come over to study for your upcoming potionology exam, your own dorm room too loud to concentrate and hoping to rope the merman into helping you with your prep questions, especially as his brother had been absent from their room that evening. While many regarded him as the sly and conniving one in the relationship, Jade had to admit you were very good at playing your cards right to where he found it increasingly hard to deny you. Perhaps this cheekiness was one of the things that drew him to you.

Considering you had given up on studying in your room pretty much immediately and had only grabbed your books before marching over to Octavinelle, you had still been in uniform when you joined him at his desk. Ever observant, Jade had quickly noticed the way you subconsciously pulled at the clothes or squirmed in your seat trying to get comfortable.

So being the amazing and reliable boyfriend that he was, he had fished some comfortable loungewear out of his closet; he had initially bought it to round out his collection of essential clothing items, though frankly, he didn’t wear it much himself. With no plans to work at the Lounge that night, he had thought that it might be a good chance to give the comfy clothes another shot.

In retrospect, maybe he should thank your uncomfortable uniform.

When you had both changed into the loungewear, he had not only been amused by the way the shirt, which was a regular fit for him, engulfed your upper body or how you had rolled up the ends of his sweatpants. With some playful huffs at his teasing, you had gone back to work until you had finished writing your study notes, at which point you had relocated to his bed, Jade joining you soon after.

Sitting side by side, your boyfriend had taken to quizzing you to see how much you had retained until he had felt your head drop against his shoulder, which was the first time he had taken note of how late it had gotten. For a few moments he had done nothing but study the way your chest rose and fell with deep breaths, your slightly parted lips inviting him to trace his thumb over the curve of them in featherlight reverence. To think that he of all morays would ever be treated to such a peaceful fragment of mundanity, it had made a warmth tug at his heart the same way the waves rolled over the shore in a calming rhythm, which persisted to this day.

It had pained him to wake you again, so could get ready for bed, persuading you sweetly into staying the night. Though he regretted neither getting to see your half asleep face while you had brushed your teeth, nor how he had been able to pull you close to him under the covers, curling his arms around you as his fingers had wandered over the warmth of your skin under his clothes.

In the comfortable darkness of his room, you had exchanged hushed whispers and murmured confessions as you had settled in his embrace, lulled to sleep by the steady beating of his heart and the lips that had spelled promises of safety and adoration against your skin. And for Jade, tugged deep into the crevice of his heart, there had formed the image of a future where this domesticity was normality.

Years later, after graduation, Jade could proudly claim that this fantasy now lived at the forefront of his heart, that he could fall asleep and wake up to your body next to his, cradled by the allure of forever. After all, for no one but those closest to him would he be up with the rising sun to prepare breakfast, humming under his breath as he relived those memories. Though he considered all his efforts paid off when he heard you shuffle into the kitchen before two arms wrapped around his middle and your head leaned against his spine.

“Good morning to you too, pearl,” Jade chuckled as finished plating the eggs on two plates, then knowingly slid a fresh cup of coffee within your reach. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, until someone decided to just leave me all by my lonesome,” you grumbled, detaching yourself from him so you could lean against the counter and take a sip of coffee, prepared perfectly to your liking. “I like seeing my beautiful husband’s face first thing in the morning but alas…”

As you stepped into his field of vision, Jade noticed you had chosen not to wear a piece of clothing of yours, but had instead plucked his black dress shirt from the chair he had draped it over the day prior. His dress shirt and nothing else. While it was long enough on you to hide what was for his eyes only, it still showed off the beautiful curve of your legs, ending tantalisingly around your thighs. The few buttons you had closed still displayed the sharp contrast between your collarbones and the softness of the skin peeking through below. It would be all too easy to slip the garment from your shoulder…

“That does seem rather unfair,” Jade agreed as he stepped in front of you, hands ghosting along the expanse of your thighs to rest at your waist, the look in his eyes reminding you of his origins and sending shivers of excitement down your spine. “If you allow me, I have a few ideas in mind on how to make it up to you.”

Within the blink of an eye, his hands had steeled their grip around your waist and lifted you to sit on the counter as he took the opportunity to stand between your legs. Then, with a gentleness which did not match the show of strength, he carefully cupped the back of your head in his palm and connected your lips in a kiss as light and soft as the golden rays bathing your kitchen in light. Your own hands busied themselves with tousling his bed head once again, slowly sliding his black lock behind his left ear as you parted from one another, like a painter putting the finishing strokes on their magnum opus.

“Hm, I might be able to be convinced about forgiving you,” you teased, the lovestruck look in your eyes mirroring his as you slung your arms over his shoulders and crossed them behind his neck in an effort to be even closer to him.

“I must be the luckiest man alive,” he mused, meaning every word of his playful response.

Yes, after living on land for so long, Jade had truly taken a liking to the human custom of wearing clothes and all the different possibilities it held. Then again, the fondness those memories held probably had nothing to do with the clothes at all.

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