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harryspet · 3 years

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cement walls | bucky barnes

[Warnings] dark!bucky barnes x reader, non/dubcon sex, fingering, kidnapping, forced pregnancy, confined spaces, Stockholm syndrome(?), post-blip bucky, bucky needs some therapy, forced gender roles

[A/N] uhm so this is what i’ve been working on and like usual i have no idea where i wanna take it :):) i haven’t posted in a long while so i figured i would put this out there for some feedback! this is pretty much inspired by Room if you’ve seen that movie. [gif credit to https://jamesbrnes.tumblr.com/]

In which the outside world is too dangerous for you and Bucky is the only one who can protect you.

taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan @doozywoozy

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word count: 3.3k

Within the cement walls that surrounded your home, you imagined that you had your own little planet. You spent hours of your days thinking about what surrounded you, if there were floating rings like Saturn had, the constellations you could make out only if you could only see the entire sky, and how the sun would really feel on your bare skin. You were beginning to forget what that felt like and you sat below the skylight trying to reach into your mind and remember.

Maybe you should be grateful that there was even a skylight at all and that there was enough room for a small kitchen and bathroom. You imagined that's what he thought. You could move around freely with no chains so you should be grateful. Almost three-hundred square feet of your new planet that you should be glad to have. Except you didn’t even own the ground you stood on, this planet wasn’t really yours, you were just an astronaut trapped in space.

That morning, you scrubbed the floors, not only because the military man preferred organization but also because the small space got dirty quickly. After taking your vitamins, extra Vitamin D of course, and munching on a stale granola bar, you got to work. You made the twin bed up, making sure the sheets were tucked in tightly before organizing the small amount of clothes in the wardrobe.

When you heard the beeping of the keypad outside the door, you stood up, shutting the wardrobe. You weren’t expecting him, not having gotten to the kitchen yet, but alas your moon man appeared. You couldn’t help it, you always looked past him to see what you could have of the outside world. You saw nothing, his figure was only surrounded in darkness as he shut it quickly, and it beeped as the metal door locked again.

It was like he liked the idea of you not knowing where you were. He’d brought you into this room unconscious so you had no idea whether you were still in Louisiana or not. For all you knew, you could be floating in space and it wouldn’t matter.

The tall man’s hair was cut short, like he’d just gotten a haircut, and you hated that the room was already beginning to smell like his cologne. He held a brown bag of what you assumed were groceries, “You haven’t been here in more than two weeks. I’ve been cleaning my clothes in the sink. I started rationing food t-thinking you weren’t going to come back.”

He set the bag down on the small kitchen table and you watched his eyes roam over the dirty dishes, “I wouldn’t leave you here, doll face,” Bucky assured you, “C’mere.” He waved you over and you stepped forward cautiously.

“W-Where did you go?”

He reached up to hold your face, the leather brushing against your cheeks as he looked you over. You wore a green smock dress with a cardigan tightly over you, the box having been cold the past few days, “I had business. Far away business.”

“You’ve never been gone this long.”

“Did you miss me that much?” You wanted to roll your eyes. If Bucky didn’t come back, you’d die in probably the worst way possible and no one would know what happened to you, “I brought you back plenty of groceries, I even got you some oreos and that fancy bread you like.”

“Bucky …. I-I was so so scared. You don’t understand-” He leaned down to kiss you and when your lips didn’t move against his, he grabbed you roughly by your hair. You held in your yelp as you forced your lips to move against his. He held your hips, deepening the kiss and when he pulled away, his hands were still in your hair.

“I’m here now, “ He looked at you sharply, tugging your hair a bit, “But it seems you can’t keep the kitchen clean, no matter how much time I give you.”

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, the words slipping out before you could even register them.

He gestured his head over to the sink, “Get to it. And the groceries as well.”

You moved past him, turning on the warm water before grabbing a sponge. You felt his eyes on your back as you began to clean all the pots and pans you’d been using. You heard the rattling of his belt, his jeans being pulled down, the sound of his boots being stacked to the side, and the grunt he let out when he tossed his jacket over the kitchen chair.

When you placed everything in the drying rack, you moved onto the bag of groceries. He had gotten the bread you liked so you had something to look forward to that week, “I had to see that lady again.”

“You mean your therapist?”

“It’s court mandated bullshit,” You looked over and he was examining your desk and bookshelf. All the books you had were given to you by him and all the decorations were paper origami that you’d gotten good at making.

“What did you guys talk about?” You asked hesitantly, putting things away in the cabinet.

“She thinks I need more friends, more social interactions I suppose but that’s what she says every week,” You heard your bed creak as he sat down, “Hey, make me a cup of coffee, doll.”

“Oh,” It was clear that whatever that therapist was doing, wasn’t work, the biggest piece of evidence being the girl he was holding captive right now. You moved over to the coffee pot, pouring what was left into his favorite mug, “Do you … ever talk about me?”

You could feel his body stiffen even from across the room.

“Why would I?” When you turned around, his eyebrows were furrowed, his hands on his knees.

You crossed the small room with the cup in hand, “Well, you interact with me. I’m like your friend, right?” You handed him the drink, standing back as you watched him take a sip, hoping he’d be satisfied with it.

“You know why I can’t tell her about you, Y/N.”

You shook your head, “Yeah, I was just thinking … “ You sat down a few feet away from him, “Does anyone else know about me?”

“You’re curious today.”

“It’s not like I have much entertainment in here,” You said a little more snarky than you intended. You felt his mechanical arm push into the mattress beside you as he turned his head, “Sorry … when do you think I’ll get to leave the room? Not outside, just out of the room. Maybe to where you sleep at night.”

“If you’re going to be like this today-”

“Forget I said anything,” You smiled weakly, “Please.”

Bucky set down his cup on the small nightstand before he urged you closer. You scooted closer and he gently pushed your head down until it was resting in his lap. You felt his cold hand through your sweater and the other through your hair, “I know what it’s like … feeling trapped,” You pulled your feet onto the bed and he continued to stroke your hair and you welcomed the comforting touch.

“Then why …”

He shushed you, “Mind over matter, Y/N. It’s all about training your mind to adjust. You’re safer here, you’re taken care of here, and your mind is still trying to convince you that you don’t belong here.”

“I wouldn’t try to escape if I could just stay with you…”

He shushed you again, “I spent decades frozen and then, after that, I was trapped in my own mind. Now everyone’s trying to convince me that I have this new chance to survive in the world. They genuinely think of this new century as being so amazing, so much technology, and opportunities but it’s a lie, Y/N. This world is nothing but danger and death. You’re much better without it.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheeks. You felt like the chains around you were only getting heavier. He was so delusional that you thought it would be easier to start believing him, “Please don’t leave for that long again.”

Bucky sighed, “I’ll stay here for the night. How does that sound?”

You hiccuped, “T-Thank you.”

Later that night, you were lying beside bucky in the small bed. He was fast asleep but you were wide awake, looking up at the skylight. The full moon was lighting up the room. Carefully, you tossed your feet over the bed, doing your best not to disturb the soldier. You got onto the floor, crawling towards the carpet in the middle of the room. Oftentimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d lay down and stare up at the moon.

You stayed like that for lord knows how long, drifting into a place where all your thoughts were silent.

“What are you doing?” You sat up quickly, your heart racing as his gruff voice snapped you from your trance.

He was shirtless, standing above you, and rubbing his tired eyes. You simply pointed up, “The moon.”

“Get back in bed,” He commanded groggily.

You scooted over slightly, “I can’t sleep ... just come look with me. It’s beautiful.”

“You act like you’ve never seen the fucking moon before, Y/N,” His frustration caught you off guard as he reached down to grab you by your arm. You didn’t mean to but, on instinct, you flinched away. That only led him to grabbing your harder, and you stumbled as he pulled you up, “Get in the bed. You scare me to death when I wake up and can’t feel you.”

“If you care so much then why do you leave me in here for weeks on end.”

His eyes flickered with hurt for a moment, “I won’t … ever again. You need far too much discipline for me to let you be on your own for so long.” You rolled your eyes as you turned away, walking towards the bed.

He grabbed you roughly by your waist, pushing you onto the bed. He pushed you further into the mattress, his hand on the back on your neck, and you were reminded just how cruel he could be. There was a point months ago when you stopped fighting it, knowing in the end he would overpower you, but sometimes your spark appeared.

He lifted your nightgown easily, knowing he wouldn’t find any underwear to tear off, and his hand cupped between your legs. As you struggled beneath him, he felt you, rubbing and running his fingers over your lips, “Me being deep inside you seems to correct your mood. Is that what you need from me, doll face?”

Your spark appeared and went quickly, knowing he could feel your wetness, giving him the permission to sink two of fingers inside you. He moved slow, his knees pressed deep into the bed, as he watched your lips part with a gasp.

“That’s it …”

This was his favorite, knowing he could get you off with just his fingers, his fingers curling against your most sensitive areas. He fastened his pace, pushing in and out of you as you lay there bent over. Knowing you were nearing an orgasm you were sure not to run away from, he moved his vibranium arm from your neck and underneath you where he stimulated your sensitive bud.

“That’s my girl,” He coaxed you as he sent you into a shaking fit, “You finish so well on my fingers, so beautifully.” You came hard, Bucky enjoying the vulnerable view of your face. As he let you go, you pushed down your gown and laid down on your side. The bed dipped as he took a seat, rubbing your thighs as the post-orgasm regret filled you.

“You ever think you have some control over me, I want you to remember this.”

8 months later …

You flipped through the channels six channels that the old television would provide. The soldier thought buying you one would decrease your book intake which he was struggling to keep up with as you read several per week. He wasn’t a fan of technology but the two of you had a long argument about it and he eventually caved.

You weren’t sure if he knew but the TV picked up a local news channel and you got a glimpse into what the world had been like over the past year. Every now and then, there’d be a mention of Sam Wilson and you figured that’s who he was disappearing with when he was gone for weeks at a time.

As you neared closer and closer to your due date, he’d grown nicer than usual, though the way he’d gotten you pregnant wasn’t pleasant at all. “You complain so much about being lonely.” He had said when you’d missed your period, “This is what you wanted, right?”

You weren’t sure if you were just nauseous from the pregnancy or if the idea of raising a baby in that room was making you sick to your stomach. Sometimes you caught yourself being selfish, thinking about having someone to take care of and take up your time. Having someone who could love you properly, in a way that Bucky didn’t quite understand.

“How’s my girl? And how’s my mini me?” Bucky was an abnormally good move when he came down to visit you that night. He was carrying magazines in his hand and you crossed the room, curious to see the details, “I thought you might want to look at nursery stuff.”

“There’s gonna be a nursery,” Your lips pulled into a smile, “Where?”

“Here,” He gestured around and your smile fell, “You can’t be too far from the little tike. I was thinking we could put the crib where your desk is.”

You took the magazines from him, resting them on your protruding stomach, “Oh …” You tried not to sound sad, “You don’t think that maybe the space is too small? I mean, a mom and baby and sometimes you, that’s a lot of people for one room. And when they get older ….” You imagined having a happy little baby but you tried not to think about your child growing up in a box.

“When he gets older, we’ll think about it then,” He stated, already gendering the baby without any actual knowledge. He refused to let you see a doctor, only brought you prenatal vitamins, expecting that you’d have a smooth delivery right here in the room, “For now, it’s plenty of room.”

You nodded, “When he gets older, will you take him outside the room? Kids need space to play and get fresh air.”

“I’ll think about it, Y/N,” Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line.

You didn’t want to push the issue further, not wanting to spoil his mood, “I think a light green will be a good, neutral color for everything. Maybe we can decorate his side of the room.”

He smiled, “Whatever you’d like, doll face.”

You crossed the room, setting the magazines down on your desk, and a scary idea crossed your mind. A scary idea and chance you might just have to take if it meant you could get help. You were getting nowhere screaming at the top of your lungs, hoping for someone to hear you, and asking Bucky over and over again just to let you have fresh air. He was suffocatingly protective and that didn’t seem like it was gonna change. You couldn’t let him do that to your child.

You made dinner and he slept over that night, his vibranium hand holding your waist the entire night.

You planned to catch him off guard the next morning, figuring you’d have the best chance of causing a panic while he was still tired. You got up, whispering that you had to use the restroom, and you slipped inside the room. You read somewhere that only a fourth cup of water comes out when your water breaks, so you fill a cup before drenching your underwear, legs and the bathroom floor.

“Bucky!” You shouted, making sure you looked scared in the mirror, “Bucky!”

The door almost flew off its hinges as the soldier went into full alert. His eyes were wide, examining you, “What-What happened?”

“I-I think my water broke,” A tear slipped down your cheek.

“It’s too early,” He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, “A-Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. All the books say it's a gushing feeling and that was definitely gushing.”

“Maybe we should wait … we can wait and see if contractions start-”

You shook your head furiously, cautiously stepping forward, “We have to see a Doctor. W-We have to … contractions are supposed to start before my water breaks a-and I’m only 29 weeks. I can’t have the baby naturally.”

“But-”

“We have to! Please, Bucky, a-all I care about is the baby. Please, I don’t want to lose them. Please don’t make me-”

“Okay, okay,” He nodded, grabbing your face as he wiped your tears, “Uhm …. let's get dressed. There’s a thirty minute drive to the hospital,” You nodded and his eyes narrowed at you, “This is for the baby, remember that. You pull anything and-”

“I know,” You placed your hand over your stomach, pulling away from his grasp.

Your body was heavy when he led you out of that room. You felt your reality shifting as you entered the world again. What surprised you most was how normal the rest of the home was, not particularly homey, but it was nice and spacious. There was even a full front yard and, sadly, you imagined the happy family that could have lived here. You half-expected him to have a wife and kids that he was hiding you from.

Now, sitting in the hospital bed, you watched him paced around, not paying attention to what the Doctor was saying.

“So she’s not in labor? She felt her water breaking.”

“No, Sir. Based on the ultrasound, the amniotic fluid levels are normal. I’m not sure what happened, could be a multitude of things, but it was most likely a false alarm. But don’t worry, it happens all the time. And your baby looks very healthy.”

You opened your mouth to say something but Bucky’s eyes narrowed at you, a warning.

“Okay, thank you, Doc.”

“Do you two have a primary obstetrician? One isn’t listed-”

“Are we free to leave?”

The Doctor took another look at you, as if he was trying to understand our relationship, but if he noticed anything, he didn’t say it, “Yes, you’re free to go. I would just make sure to keep a sharp eye out and give your obstetrician a call if you have a question-”

“Of course, thanks, Doc,” Bucky nodded as he forced a smile. With his dark jacket and black gloves, it was hard for him not to look intimidating.

The Doctor looked down at you with a warm smile, “Let me know if you need anything, ma’am.”

Say something.

If you were going to say something, this would be the time. Why did Bucky have such a hold on you even outside of the room?

As soon as the Doctor left the room, Bucky turned away, frustratedly packing up your bag, “Get up, get dressed, let’s go.”

“Bucky, I really did think-”

“If you don’t want someone in this hospital to get hurt, I’d get dressed and keep your mouth shut.”

You moved your legs to the side, real tears beginning to fall down your face, as you struggled to get your dress on. Bucky noticed your sniffling from the corner of his eye. He moved towards you, kneeling down beside the bed, “Hey, I’m sorry …. I’m just stressed out. I don’t like you being here ... but everything is going to be okay. Our baby is perfectly healthy and we’ll be home soon. There will be no more interruptions after this.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod in agreement knowing that your own opinion didn’t matter. Bucky was god, enforcing his will on you, and claiming he knew best. You felt so small in comparison to him but there had to be something left within you that could keep fighting, that could keep you from going willingly back into that room-

“Y/N?”

You perked up, “Yes?”

“C’mon doll face, let’s go home.”

hope you enjoyed! not sure where i want to take this so feedback will be much appreciated!

#dark fic #dark fics #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky smut #stockholm syndrome #bucky barnes x black!reader #dark!bucky

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swtki · 3 years

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Boss - C.D

Pairing: CEO! Cedric Diggory x Intern! Fem! Reader

Summary: You fucked your boss, thats it.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of copulation, About a five year age gap (reader is 23 and Cedric is 28), alcohol.

A/N: not me just now posting this

When I was informed that my intern application had been accepted, I was ecstatic. It was my dream to work in the Aurors office, to fight the evil trying to destroy our way of life. Naturally, I went out drinking the night before - which granted, wasn't an amazing idea in the first place. I planned to have a few drinks, then grab a taxi for home. The tall, lean, brunette man sitting next to me was a later addition to the itinerary.

"Drinking to forget the demons, or celebrating?" he said, swirling his whiskey.

"Excuse me?"

He smiled, "It's just that usually people only come to a bar when doing either of the two."

"Oh," I turned my body towards him, "Celebrating, I suppose.". He smiled and nodded, taking a slow sip of his drink. "And you? Which is your reason?" Upon further inspection, I noticed he was dressed in a suit, but had taken off the jacket.

"Demons, I've lived a long time. Seen a few things."

"You can't be more than thirty, and obviously you do well for yourself. Businessman, perhaps? A wife, kids, a brilliant car?" I questioned.

"Not even close," He scoffed, "Twenty-eight, I've had the most experiences with near death than anyone you'll ever know. I live in an average flat, I don't own a car, nor do I have anything resembling a wife or kids." I sat there quietly. "So, what is it that you're celebrating...." he signaled as if he were asking for my name.

"Y/N, I start my internship tomorrow."

We talked for the rest of the evening, and he invited me to his flat. It eventually led to me waking up next to him in bed at two am, and blindly stumbling to my own home. Usually, one night stands weren’t my forte; Cedric was different. I didn’t know his last name, but I knew how he sounded - how he tasted.

My heels clicked on the linoleum floor of the ministry, I would start off in the office, filing for aurors and such. Even to assist them was an honor. My smile was wide as I entered the well lit office. A woman rushed by, her cup of coffee floating a few inches behind her. She saw me standing there, rather misplaced and stopped.

“Can I help you dear?” she said with a raised brow.

“Yes, I’m Y/N L/N, I’m the new intern.” The woman’s face relaxed.

“Ah- yes we were just talking about you! I’m Macy - I work in the same department as you actually. Come along, lets see you to your station.” Macy strutted away as I quickly followed behind, only stopping once we reached a small wooden desk in a separate room.

“This,” She pulled the chair out and motioned for me to sit, “Is your desk - its right next to the library so you can put together files more easily. My desk is over there.” She pointed her long red fingertips towards a decorated space; While mine had absolutely nothing, hers had pictures and intricate pens. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “they didn’t put your typewriter over here - lazy bastards.” With a swish of her wand, she brought me a slightly rusted device.

“Thank you, Macy.” She smiled and we started on my training. What to put wear, when to drop off the files, how to drop off the files, and so on. I looked at the clock as it struck five, the time flew by so fast that at first I thought it was broken.

As Macy and I walked out of the office together, I saw a fairly large office, blinds drawn down as much as possible. “Hey, whats that room there?” I pointed.

“Oh - thats Mr. Diggory’s office. I guess a case must have been rough, haven’t seen much of’m today. Probably meet him tomorrow, just needs to reset ‘s’all. “ I nodded and kept up with her, stopping once we reached our respective transportation.

As I walked in the next morning, I noticed someone blocking the door to my department’s office. He was tall, lean, slumping against the frame as if this were a solicitation friendly area - it wasn’t.

“Excuse me, I’d really like to get to my desk can you maybe-“ He turned around and with him my entire universe shook. It was him, it was Cedric. He stepped aside, not giving me the faintest of recognition that he had in fact been inside my guts only a few days before. I quietly walked in, my entire body feeling cold and stiff. I couldn’t quite place the feeling; Was it embarrassment? Hurt? I wanted to know so I could eradicate it.

The days passed and I succesfuly managed to avoid being alone with him. If we weren’t alone we couldn’t have the “talk”. I thought I was safe until I decided to stay a bit later than usual, packing up my stuff just as the last person had left, or who I thought the last person was.

I looked up when I heard three solid yet soft knocks on the door. My jaw went slack as I saw who it was.

“Got a minute?” he asked.

“I suppose…” my voice was quiet, why was I so nervous in front of him? He walked over to the desk beside me and leaned on it.

“You haven’t talked to me since - since that night. I woke up and you were gone, I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Well - maybe it would have been for the better, Mr. Diggory-“ He leaned forward slightly.

“Please, call me Cedric when we’re alone. I want you to be my equal when in private. And no, I don’t think it would have been for the better. You- you’re brilliant you know?” I hummed in response. “Y/N, I want you to be more than a subordinate. I want to take you to dinner - to do all the parts we skipped before.” I bit my lip, hesitantly.

“I need to….I need to think on it.”

“Right.” He said quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. A pit formed in my stomach, had I just rejected him on accident? Was it possible my soul mate stood a few feet from me and I was in the process of fucking it up? He dropped his composure a bit. “Well, I’ll be off then. Have a lovely night, Y/N.” He said my name so well, so smooth. Like the night we first met, he was so natural yet so put together. He turned to walk out of the door, not hesitating for a small second. My thoughts ran wild with every step he took away from me.

“Fuck.” I hissed under my breath, opening the door and walking out to the hall as fast as I could. I spotted him - waiting for the lift. “I don’t,” He looked up from the floor, “I don’t have anything for tea tonight - plans I mean. I’d like to take you up on that offer.” My hands grasped themselves, thumbs twiddling as I saw him smile and start to laugh.

“You,” He stepped closer to me, leaving the tile where the lift was located, “Sure like to make this hard for me.” He lifted my hand to his face, leaving a soft kiss on the back of my hand.

And thats how I became the girlfriend of Cedric Diggory, the man who won the Tri-wizard tournament. It turned out, I had in fact been standing next to my soulmate the entire time.

#harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #draco mallfoy imagines #draco mallfoy x reader #harry potter preferences #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter lemon #draco malfoy #cedric x y/n #cedric diggory smut #cedric diggory x reader smut #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson smut

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helnjk · 3 years

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Stitching Together - G.W.

George Weasley x fem!reader

Requested: yes !! by my lovely bean marissa @lumos-barnes

please accept my humble request for a george x reader where the reader owns a shop in diagon alley and one day they walk into WWW and george knocks over a whole display, he is a complete SIMP & cannot compose himself. complete buffoonery when the reader is near. they become friends & do all these nice things for each other and the reader is oblivious like "george, i'm so lucky to be your friend" (even though the reader is secretly simping) and he's like "um what, i'm literally in love with you"

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: mentions of meals and drinks (coffee), but other than that it’s just pure fluff & Dumb Idiots In Love

A/N: somehow i always end up writing george knitting? idk how it happened, but it happened. i hope you like it marissa 🥺💕

–

You took a step back to admire your handiwork.

After what seemed like neverending hours, the layout of your shop was finally perfect. From where you stood, you had a view of the streets of Diagon Alley, several passersby coming and goings from your sight. The display of charmed knit work by the window was already moving, demonstrating simple stitches that formed into a scarf.

It had always been your dream to open up your own shop in the most prominent wizarding area of Britain, with your passion for knitting and crafting, but the timing had always been off. Now, about a year or so since the war had ended, your grandmother surprised you with the capital to make your dreams come true.

The gesture was extra special because she was the one who first taught you how to knit. Many summers were spent in her cottage, sitting side by side and working on personal projects together.

Outside, your sign read ‘Stitching Together: Grand Opening’. There were a few flyers posted right on the door and on the window advertising the different classes and crafting groups you were offering, as well as the different products that could be found in your store.

It was as if your heart could burst at the sight of your fully furnished shop and you could wait no longer. With a flick of your wand, the sign on the door flipped to say open and that was that.

–

“Hey Freddie, have you seen that new shop that’s opened down the street?” George yelled from the bottom of the stairs once the last customer of the day made their leave.

“Haven’t gone in, but it’s gotten a lot of customers from what I can tell!” the disembodied voice of his twin replied from somewhere above.

As he began the process of cleaning up and reshelving, products floating in midair or zooming towards their proper shelves, he called out once more, “What type of store is it d’you reckon?”

“Arts and crafts? Something like that.”

George’s eyes drifted towards the shop window, where he could just barely see the outline of the new store. Dusk had begun to set in London, so the sky was filled with brilliant hues of purple and orange. His curiosity getting the better of him, he decided that he would go welcome the new shop owner to Diagon Alley.

With a shout to let his twin know where he was off to, George strode out of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and into the brisk weather. Luckily for him, Stitching Together was still open. He could see you bustling around inside, fixing displays and swishing your wand to tidy everything up.

It had only been around a month since your shop had opened, but the local wizard folk of London seemed to be very keen on buying the different things you sold. Many came around to purchase the instructional books and the different kinds of wool and yarn, and some of your regulars had even taken an interest in the classes you held weekly. It was a great way for you to get to know the community and to establish friendships.

You had always taken note of the joke shop a few shops down from you, but with the hustle and bustle of just opening, you hadn’t had a chance to visit or introduce yourself to the owners. It was just your luck that one half of them pushed open the door to your shop, the little bell at the top of it ringing to indicate his presence.

“Oh, hello!” you smiled, turning to face the redheaded man, “Welcome to Stitching Together, what could I help you with?”

Unbeknownst to George, your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest. How could a man be so positively handsome you didn’t know, but at the sight of him standing by the door, all you could think about was how gorgeous he was. And he hadn’t even uttered a single word yet!

The charming smile he sent your way did not help the heat you could feel creeping up your neck. “Just popping by to say hello and welcome to Diagon Alley! My twin and I run Wheezes just down the street,” he said.

Your smile grew as he stuck his hand out for you to shake, “Oh I was just thinking about how I’ve been wanting to pay your shop a visit! I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“George Weasley at your service,” his hand was firm and warm as he shook yours, eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite name. “Nice to meet you!”

“So tell me about your shop!”

Somehow, after that evening, George Weasley snuck his way into becoming a part of your daily routine.

Every morning he would show up with two cups of coffee in hand right before your shop was set to open. After realizing that you depended on caffeine to function throughout your day, he made it a point to bring you one everyday. As you sipped on your coffees, the two of you would spend a few minutes chatting about your plans for the day before going to work.

Whenever you would offer to pay for your own cup or even try to insinuate that you could get your own coffee in the morning, just so that he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble, he would stop you in your tracks.

“But George–”

“Nope!” he would say in a voice louder than yours. “I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I really feel for your customers who have to deal with a Y/N that hasn’t had her coffee fix. Could you imagine the grumpiness? Not on my watch!”

You would roll your eyes, but secretly it warmed your heart how sweet this boy could be. He was slowly inching his way into your life and becoming a great friend.

–

“So,” said Fred one day as George had gotten back from delivering your daily coffee, “The bird from the knitting shop, huh?”

His twin only rolled his eyes in response, used to the teasing that came with being brothers (and twins) with Fred Weasley. Instead of engaging, George went instead to do the routine last check over their store before they officially opened their doors. Still, Fred couldn’t resist the temptation to continue provoking him.

“Oi! C’mon, you bring her coffee everyday even if you don’t like the stuff. If I don’t remind you that you have a store to run, you would spend the whole day staring out the window just to catch a glimpse of the girl! Tell me you’re not whipped for her,” he teased, following George through the shop.

From their position at the till and on the second floor, both Verity and Lee tried to hide their smirks. This was too good a story to not eavesdrop on.

“Come off it, Fred.” George rolled his eyes. “I’m just being a good friend, that’s all!”

“Yeah but you wouldn’t mind being more than friends.”

The cheeky wink Fred sent George was not appreciated, as the prior soon found out, having to duck away from a stinging hex. Still, Fred’s laugh rang through the semi-empty store as he ran away from his brother.

Later in the day, as the lunch crowd tapered off, the four of them were left to mull around a bit. Lee and Verity were off taking stock in the back room, Fred was doing some accounting (because his twin couldn’t be trusted with any sort of math), and George was reshelving some Skiving Snackboxes.

The bell above the door to the shop rang, but he couldn’t quite tell who came in from his position towards the back of the shop.

“Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” he yelled, rushing to get all the boxes in order before he could help the new customer, “I’ll be with you in just a second!”

Just as he admired his handiwork, eyes scanning the display to make sure nothing was out of place, a familiar voice called from behind him, “It’s alright, take your time. I’m not looking for anything in particular.”

George almost jumped out of his skin as he heard your voice. He was so surprised that as he turned to meet you, his elbow caught on the edge of one of the Snackboxes and the whole thing toppled over.

You watched as the tower of boxes crumbled around him, and your hand automatically covered your mouth as you tried to contain your laughter. It didn’t work, though, and soon the whole store could hear your guffaws.

Thankfully, George was a wizard, and what would’ve taken a muggle quite some time to fix, only took a quick flick of his wand.

“Oops,” you smiled at him bashfully as he finished, “Didn’t mean to startle you, Weasley.”

“Erm, it-it’s alright,” he blushed, “I just didn’t expect you to come ‘round today.”

In truth, the reason why George was so flustered at your appearance at his shop was because he had just spent most of the afternoon thinking about you. He often did that, getting lost in his thoughts about the many little things that made you, well, you. The deep breath you took before that first sip of coffee in the morning, revelling in the aroma. How your face lit up when you spoke about the different people you met in your classes. Your hands and how skillfully they worked whatever project you were creating at the moment.

He wouldn’t admit it to Fred, but what his twin had said earlier in the day was accurate. He was absolutely smitten over you.

“Well you’ve been a regular over at mine for the last couple of weeks, I’m just returning the favor and visiting my favorite redhead at his place of work!”

“I-I,” he stuttered, his brain refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was your favorite anything.

Fred, who had heard the commotion and had gone down to check if everything was okay, nearly face palmed as he watched George fumble through his words. The man was whipped for you, no doubt about it, and as a good twin, he decided to save his brother from further humiliation.

“I think what my lovely twin here is trying to say, is that you just haven’t met enough redheads to make your decision about your favorite one,” he said, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation. “Fred Weasley, at your service!”

Your smile immediately brightened at the sight of George’s twin holding out his hand for you to shake, “Nice to meet you! I’m Y/N, George’s told me loads about you!”

“Has he?” Fred raised his eyebrow, turning to look at George who was still a little dumbstruck at the sight of you in his shop. “Well, that just means it’s my turn to spend some time with such a lovely lady. C’mon, I’ll give you a tour of the shop!”

“Oh I’d love that.”

With a small glance and wave at George, you took the arm that Fred was holding out for you, and so began his (largely amusing) tour of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

“What in Merlin’s name was that!” yelled Fred the moment you left the shop.

George groaned into his hands, embarrassment creeping back into him. He had acted a fool, unable to even mutter a single sentence to you the whole time you were around.

“Mate, I have never seen you so flustered around a girl,” his twin muttered, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Just tell her you’ve got feelings for her! Ask her on a date, do something! From what I could tell, you’re not the only one who’s caught feelings.”

“It’s not like that between us,” he said, “I doubt she even notices how much I fancy her.”

–

Somehow, George wound up taking Fred’s advice. Though, in typical-George fashion, he never explicitly mentioned to you anything about the way he felt.

Instead, he would stay around your shop longer in the mornings, taking slower than usual sips of his coffee (which he still couldn’t say he preferred over a good cup of tea). Other days, he would come around closing time and help put everything back in order and if he was lucky, the two of you would go out to dinner. Of course, he would also never let you pay a sickle for your meal, no matter how much you insisted.

Weekends were usually spent together as well.

Saturdays were for brunch and muggle films on the telly. It was one of the rare occasions he would drink a beverage in front of you that wasn’t that (god forsaken) coffee.

Sundays were more for crafting together. He would floo into your flat after having lunch with his family and the two of you would continue working on his little project.

“My mum loves to knit,” he mentioned one day, while he observed your quick hands skillfully moving the thread through your needles. “She knits us all sweaters for Christmas. It’s become a tradition of sorts.”

“That’s lovely,” you smiled up at him.

“Yeah, anyone who’s practically family gets one too. Like Harry and Hermione,” he mused.

“I could teach you how to knit her something, if you wanted,” you offered. “It’d be something pretty simple though, especially if you’ve never knitted anything before.”

The smile he sent you was so dazzling, you had to take a moment. You were practically melting under his tender gaze and you swallowed thickly, trying to gain your composure.

“That’d be bloody brilliant, Y/N!”

You only hoped he didn’t notice how your face got hot and how your hands couldn’t move the needles to do what you wanted, too flustered to be precise with your movements.

Since then, the two of you spent most of Sunday afternoons making sure George had the correct strings of yarn on the correct needle. You would keep a close eye on him and his progress, but most of the time he was alright on his own. Sometimes, he would purposely sit closer to you on your couch and you could practically feel the warmth radiating from him.

In between knits, your eyes would drift towards his focused face and you would smile. George had a habit of poking the tip of his tongue out when he was knitting. Something about the gesture helped him concentrate, and you found it absolutely adorable.

The more time you spent together, though, the more confused George got. It was getting to a point where in his head, it was impossible to miss what he was trying to say with his actions. You had to have caught on by now. And, since you hadn’t acknowledged what was going on between the two of you, he had assumed that this was your polite way of rejecting him.

On a chilly morning, he clutched the warm cups of coffee in his hands as he pushed the door to Stitching Together open with his back.

“Morning, Y/N!” he greeted.

You grinned in his direction as he made his way towards you. The moment he placed the warm drink in your hands and you took your first sip, a small moan of gratefulness escaped your lips.

“Merlin, I don’t deserve you,” you mumbled to your cup.

“Sorry?” George asked, brows furrowed slightly.

“Oh nothing!” you quickly said, “I’m just really glad you’re my friend, Georgie.”

Friend.

The word seemed to make his heart sink down to his stomach and ignite something in him at the same time. It was time that he told you how he felt, no matter what would happen afterwards. He couldn’t keep going on pretending he wasn’t head over heels in love with you.

“Erm, about that Y/N,” he began, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his work uniform, “I’ve got to tell you something.”

It was now or never.

You smiled up at him encouragingly, almost oblivious to the bundle of nerves that were most definitely visible in his expression.

“I-I don’t want to be just friends, Y/N,” he said, lips pursed in anticipation.

“What do you want then?” you still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

In a burst of confidence, George took your hands in his and gripped them tightly, “I want to be with you. I fancy you loads, I think I might even be in love with you, Y/N. Honestly, I might’ve been in love with you from the moment I first walked into your shop.”

Your lack of an immediate response left him to back track, “But I understand completely if you don’t feel the same way, I just wanted to get it out there.”

For a moment, the two of you were silent. George eyed you nervously, wondering what was going on through your head, bracing himself for the rejection that he thought was on the tip of your tongue.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, “Y/N? Do you want me to go?”

Instead of answering, you flung your arms around his neck. He was so startled at your sudden gesture that he almost didn’t notice your lips on his. Almost.

As suddenly as you had kissed him, all of his apprehensions melted away. Almost automatically, his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer to him. Your lips melted together seamlessly. It was as if this was where the two of you were meant to be, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

Sooner than you had liked, George pulled away from you slightly. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but dip his head down to peck your lips again. Once, twice, three times. This left you a giggly mess, your nose scrunching up in a way that was practically begging him to kiss it as well.

“Does that mean you fancy me too?” he murmured against your lips.

“Absolutely, head over heels,” you smiled in return.

The pair of you spent a brief moment with your foreheads pressed together, giddy smiles on your faces. That was until a knock on the door of your shop sounded. Immediately, you sprung apart, a blush coating tip of George’s ears and cheeks.

A few people stood outside, eyeing you amusedly.

“Oh shit,” you said, hurrying to flip the sign on the door to say ‘open’ and to unlock the door with a flick of your wand. “I completely forgot I had a class today.”

As the small group of people began to file inside, they sent knowing glances your way to which you only groaned softly and looked up at George.

“I’ll see you tonight?” you asked hopefully.

With a kiss to your cheek and a mischievous grin he said, “You can count on it, love.”

–

General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @sarcasticallywitty15 @lumos-barnes

Weasley twins taglist: @whizboingies @pineapplesandpinas @papapapadumb @Mrs-g-weasley @a-castle-of--glass @hey-there-angels @leovaldez37 @pinkypurplemagic @werewolfslut @surprizeshawtyy

crossed out means i couldn’t tag you for some reason, sorry!

#george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagines #george weasley imagine #george weasley fics #george weasley fic #george weasley x reader #george wealsey x y/n #tw meal mention #tw drink mention

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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A Little Childish

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF

Summary: Corpse and Y/N go to visit Y/N’s parents for New Year’s. Corpse was promised good food, good company and A LOT of snow. Needless to say, the place didn’t disappoint - quite the contrary actually, it exceeded any and all expectations he had.

Requested by @waterflowersposts Hi there! Sorry for how long it took for this fic to be written :( I hope the final result makes up for the long wait! I also thought it would be appropriate to post it during the holiday season, so I hope you don’t mind. Hope you enjoy the read and I’m looking forward to hearing your feedback and any more requests you may have. Stay safe! Happy Holidays! Love, Vy ❤

I watch as Corpse is basically floating from one room into another in our shared apartment as he’s throwing random articles of clothing in his open suitcase. I have already packed my bags, knowing full well what the appropriate attire is for where we’re going.

I look away from my laptop when Corpse comes in for maybe the sixtieth time today, this time carrying a white tee causing me to chuckle. “Corpse, I know it’s very trademark for you, but the only way you’ll be wearing that when we get there is under a sweater for some extra warmth. I’m not looking forward to having my boyfriend freeze in my parent’s house.”

He smiles, looking at the shirt in his hands, and shakes his head, “Fine, guess I’ll do without it for a week or two.” He throws it in our room, not even bothering to check where it’ll land before he comes to sit down next to me on the couch, “Keep in mind, you have set my expectations pretty high up there. If I am not waist deep in snow the second we step off the plane, I’ll be disappointed.”

I give him a side glance, a smirk playing on my lips. Must say, taking on challenges you know you’re gonna win is the ultimate high-and-mighty feeling. “Honey, you’ve got a big snowstorm coming.”

* * *

All throughout our trip - I’m talking the drive to the airport AND the flight over - I have kept my eyes glued to Corpse, observing as his eyes sparkled more and more with each foot we got closer to our destination. He has told me the most snow he has seen was less than an inch and I immediately felt it was my duty to change that by introducing him to the magic of Canada - my home. My parents own a getaway cottage in the mountains of Calgary where we used to go every holiday season. My earliest memory is playing in the thigh-deep snow with my older sister and crying whenever our parents had to drag us back inside.

The West Coast of the US was a rather odd surrounding for me, having grown up surrounded by snowy mountains, experiencing Christmas with no snow whatsoever was a true let down and underwhelming feeling. Since Corpse and I started dating about a month after Christmas time last year this will be our first time spending the holidays together and Corpse was more than enthusiastic to visit Canada when I mentioned how much I enjoyed my winters there. We couldn’t go for Christmas, but we’ll be there for New Year’s Eve and the first two weeks of 2021 and I am really excited. I have been dying to see my family that has actually expanded since the last time I visited - my sister has had yet another baby, making her and her husband parents of three very energetic toddlers. The six year old twins - Ashley and Alex - and the three year old Andrew. Or, as I like to call them: The 3 As.

I have warned Corpse about them like seven times despite the fact that he’s already familiar with their energy, convincing him that if that’s more than he can handle we’ve still got time to cancel the trip. He didn’t bat an eye though, each time telling me not to worry and focus my attention on reliving the moments I’ve missed so greatly instead of making sure he was having a good time.

“If you’re there...“ he said, “I’ll sure as hell be having a good time.“

One step out of the airport and he’s already mesmerized. His eyes are shiny reflecting the glow of the snow all around. It’s gonna be funny to see his reaction when he witnesses the real deal - the snow in the mountains. This compared to that is a pathetic excuse.

“I know it’s not waist-high, but that’s because they shovel it and melt it.“ He is looking around, not paying much mind to my words. The utter amazement and disbelief on his face just makes me want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him. He’s simply adorable! I see fragments of the child in him swimming up to the surface in the form of temptation - temptation every kid feels when they see snow: Dive in and lose track of time. “Wait till we get to the cottage.“

This manages to catch his attention, “You weren’t kidding.“

I laugh at my precious kiddy boyfriend. “Whoa there, Corpsie. If your mind is already blown, I’m worried about how you’ll react to the real deal.“

I have a feeling I know exactly how he’ll react cause I react similarly - I set the child in me free. After all, no parent can tell you to stop playing and go inside when you are a 23-year-old.

* * *

Walking up to the cottage from the cable-car station has to be the first time I’ve breathed with my lungs’ full capacity in the last five years. The sharp cold air screams ‘home’ to me like nothing else ever did. I am still surprised as to how my sister prefers summer. My family jokes I’m a winter wolf in disguise and I think they’re right. I do like to roll around in the snow much like a wolf. No judgement! Having a few extra years added to my age doesn’t change everything.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.“ If I could take a shot every time Corpse has repeated this phrase I’d be dead due to liver failure. He is absolutely stunned. And I’m pretty sure he hasn’t blinked at all. Who am I to talk - I haven’t either. These mountains keep getting prettier and prettier, I swear. Taking my eyes off them would be a crime.

“Told you. I wish we made a bet, I could’ve made some easy money.“ I tease him, gently bumping my elbow against his as we walk up the trail.

“I’m glad I didn’t propose such a thing. That would’ve been fucking stupid of me.“ Judging by the tone of his voice, he is not really present in this conversation, so I decide not to let it go on any longer.

Not that I could’ve done differently, seeing as how barely three seconds latter I see three smiling faces coming at me at max speed.

Oh boy.

“Auntie Y/N!“ Ashley and Alex arrive first of course, wrapping their arms tightly around my waist. Little Andrew stumbles his way to me as quickly as a three year old possibly could.

Without wasting a second, I put my bags down and crouch so I can hug them properly. “Hi my babies! I haven’t seen you in so long.” Their hugging strength surprises me and warms my heart at the same time. The twins pull away, leaving room for the little duckling in a jacket two times his size and weight. “Hi Andrew! I nice to meet you! I’m auntie Y/N. Mommy and daddy have told you about me, haven’t they? If not I’ll kick their asses.”

“Y/N, I swear, I’ll tell Amy you’re teaching her kids swears at a very early age.“ Corpse says teasingly, stealing the attention from all four of us.

“She curses like a sailor, these kids probably know more swear words than I do.“ Ash and Alex run straight out of my grasp and to Corpse, proceeding to hug him around the waist as they did with me. They met Corpse when my sister and her husband Finn visited me back in the summer. They immediately fell in love with him. I specifically remember Alex telling me I have a ‘really cool boyfriend‘ and he only uses the word ‘cool‘ when he really likes something or someone. Corpse was honorably declared cool by Alex and that still warms my heart till this day.

“Hi guys, long time no see!“ He too crouches down to hug the little demons that immediately cling to him like koalas.

I scoop up the bundle of clothes with a face and stand up, balancing him on my hip. “Let’s attempt to get inside, shall we?” With my unoccupied arm I grab the handle of my suitcase.

Corpse nods and follows my lead, picking up the bags he also left in the snow. Ash and Alex bolt it back to the house while we struggle to follow, lowkey embarrassed by the pace we’re walking with.

Andrew struggles against me, reaching out towards Corpse. I look at them both apologetically. “You’ll meet Corpse when we get inside, darling. Chill out.”

“Y/N!“ My sister’s voice steals my attention. She emerges from the house, followed by the twins, a huge smile on her face. Her eyes land on Andrew who has calmed down is now resting his head on my shoulder sleepily, “Oh I’m so sorry about them, Y/N. I didn’t know they would charge at you the second you stepped foot on the property.“

Amy motions for me to give her her son but I hand her my suitcase instead. When she takes it I use my now freed arm to hug her as tightly as I possibly can with one arm and while balancing a baby on my chest. “It’s ok! I couldn’t have dreamed of a better welcoming.” I release, giving her a big smile.

She loses interest in me and goes to hug Corpse, taking a bag from him as well before giving him a hug. “Oh my God, Corpse, it feels like it’s been forever. I’m so glad to see you.”

“Happy to see you too, Amy.“ My sister has never liked a single guy I’ve dated. EVER. Corpse is the only one she warmed up to and that’s a huge deal to me. Corpse’s happiness when I told him that was something I’d pay to have filmed just so I can watch it every time I’m feeling down.

“Let’s get you both inside, you must be freez-“ She cuts herself off, rolling her eyes at me, “Of course, you’re not.“

I laugh and blow her a kiss as we keep carrying onward.

“Um, guys?“ Corpse’s voice makes me pause and turn around. He’s still standing in the same spot, looking- unsettled, I guess you could call it.

“What’s wrong?“ I walk over to him, taking his hand in mine.

His hand automatically gives mine a reassuring squeeze, “Nothing really, it’s just that...I’m meeting your parents for the first time and-...What if they don’t like me?”

I open my mouth to go off and start stating the obvious that they indeed won’t like him. They will LOVE him. It’s impossible not to love this man! But my sister beats me to it when it comes to stating the facts.

“Look, Corpse, they already love you. Heck, sometimes I feel like they have known Finn and you longer than they have known Y/N and I! They speak so highly of you and haven’t even met you - that should tell you more than enough about how they see you.“ She waves her hand towards the cottage, “Now walk in there and blow them away.“

Honestly, I’m glad Amy beat me to it. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

And just like that, hand in hand, Andrew still in my other arm, we walk in.

* * *

Corpse is officially the main attraction, stealing the spotlight from Amy, Finn and I - something the three of us are incredibly thankful for. Amy was right with every word she said - my parents are absolutely in love with Corpse. Luckily for Finn and Amy, the 3 As are all over him as well. Especially Andrew. The second someone sets him down he just waddles his way over to Corpse who picks him up and settles him in his lap while he answers my parents’ questions.

When the kids were finally talked into taking a nap, Corpse and I snuck out to have a little walk in the snow and, of course, take some pictures. I made it my personal goal to make as many artsy and aesthetic photos of him as possible. His favorite - a hand only pic of him holding a snowball - was my idea and I think I have never felt prouder of myself.

“I am definitely posting this one.“ He says, turning the phone so I can see the screen. I give it a quick glance, thinking he’s talking about the hand pic but do a double take when I realize it’s a picture of me that he has taken without my knowledge.

I actually look rather decent, so I give him a green light in the form of a big thumbs up, “As long as you post the hand one too.”

“Hey, Y/N!“ We look back at the house which isn’t far from where we are right now. Amy is hugging the jacket tightly around herself as she approaches us with fast steps. “You know where we haven’t been in like forever?“

I raise an eyebrow and shake my head as I rack through my brain trying to dig up what she’s referring to. It could literally be any place on this mountain!

“Hello! The Waterless Lake? Ring any bells?“

Oh...it sure does.

Brief explanation: it is a huge circular dip in the ground which fills with water when the snow melts and becomes a lake but empties by the time winter comes back around. That being said, when the snow is still not melted, it’s an absolute wonderland to play in. I suddenly remember all the barrel-rolling Amy and I did there as kids and feel really nostalgic.

“Oh God, yes! I miss that place!“ I say, snapping out of my reminiscing trance. “Let’s go while it’s still light enough.”

“Finn is making dinner right now, or trying to at least.“ She rolls her eyes, turning to Corpse, “But it’d be our pleasure if you tagged along, Corpse.“

Corpse shakes his head, “I’ll politely decline. You ladies can reminisce and chat in peace, while I’ll be helping Finn in the kitchen.” He gives me a quick peck on the lips before excusing himself, “Have fun!”

“You too!“ We call back to him in unison.

Amy gives me an amazed, wide-eyed look, “He can cook?”

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly, smirking, “Oh, you have no idea.”

She laughs, linking arms with me as we begin walking our way to the Waterless Lake. The place probably has a different name or no name at all, but we named it that as kids and never told our parents where it was. It’s our spot, and it is very surprising Amy offered Corpse to accompany us there.

“Sis, you are very lucky. I hope you know that.“ She tightens the hold on my arm with hers, pulling us closer together.

“I tell myself that every time I look at him, Aims. I am fully aware.“ I say dreamily, recalling all the times I’ve spent with Corpse. Almost one full year and I could never imagine that year, nor the upcoming ones, without him.

* * *

Upon returning, we’re met with the most wholesome scene I have ever seen - Corpse and Finn are making snowmen with the 3 As. It seems like they’ve been at it for a while, considering there is an army of snowmen of different designs, shapes and sizes all at different spots throughout the perimeter of the clearing in front of the house.

“Oh dear Lord.“ Amy mumbles, “I had a feeling this would happen.“

The five snowman-builders don’t even acknowledge our presence when we approach them. Ashley and Alex are running around with Finn, looking for sticks to use as the snowmen’s limbs while Corpse is helping Andrew gather as much snow as possible for the body.

I don’t realize there’s a huge smile on my face up until the point I’m trying to say something. Nothing comes out, though. My words are being muffled by all the overwhelming emotions that have taken over - collapsing my senses.

With a roll of her eyes, my sister opens the front door, taking a step into the house. The second the door opens, however, I get a whiff of the delicious smell coming from inside. Best guess, and probably the right one - this is Corpse’s doing.

If I wasn’t already hungry, I sure as hell am now and I’m in no mood to be in that delicious food’s proximity without attacking it.

“Come on, guys! Dinner time! Get your butts inside!“ I call out to them from the doorway.

Corpse turns to look at me with the sneakiest smirk I have ever seen. He narrows his eyes at me, “You have done the very thing you despise!”

It takes me approximately three seconds to connect the dots and scrunch up my face, picking up all the snow I can an forming it in a snow ball, throwing it at Corpse. Growing up doing this exact thing has given me great aim, therefore I hit Corpse square in the chest.

“Oh you’re so in for it now.“ He laughs, picking up snow to form his own snowball.

“Snowball fight!“ Ashley yells, ditching the sticks to make a snowball for herself.

“Oh no...“ I poke my head in the hallway just as a snowball hits my upper arm, “Aims, I need your help!“

Before Amy can respond, I run to take cover behind the nearest snowman that, luckily for me happens to be one of the larger ones. I hear Amy call out my name when she exits the house, followed by a surprised yelp from her when three snowballs hit her. “You are all dead!”

While she is fighting blood and fire (well, water really), I am making ammunition for us both to use. I’m on my eleventh snowball when snow showers me from above as though it has fallen from a tree branch.

“Hiding, I see.“ I am still in shock, hair and upper body covered in snow, when I hear Corpse’s taunting voice.

My vengeance instinct kicks in having me grab two snowballs and turn to throw them at him. To my dismay, he’s faster then me and doesn’t allow me to even get my arm at an angle where I could throw properly. Instead, he turns me back around and picks me up with ease, one arm wrapped around my waist, another grabbing two of my prepared snowballs from the ground.

“Let’s show them who the bosses are.“ I see him wink at me from the corner of my eye and it takes me little to no time to catch onto what he’s insinuating.

In short, with joined forces, we took out the opposite team in no time - like a true couple 😉

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

#bnha 294 #mr. compress #...and actually that's pretty much it lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this is up later than usual (and mostly unedited as well)#just one of those days

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enthusiasticharry · 3 years

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Swan Lake

summary: you've recently audition to be the White Swan in the Royal Ballet’s next production, only to learn that the new choreographer, Harry, will make this experience a lot more thrilling.

author’s note: hiya! sorry the has taken so long but I've been busy with classes and only just had time to sit down and write this. this has been an idea of mine since i first saw harry’s snl promo when he was in the tutu and i'm glad i can finally share it!

word count: 10.6k words of smut, fluff and me trying to sound like i have a clue what i’m on about whilst describing ballet moves (i'm no ballerina, just a pre-warning)

masterlist | asks

Even from being a small child, it had been your dream to become a dancer. You had originally gotten into dancing when you were very little, watching the different dancing programmes on the TV. You can remember like it was yesterday, the day you first watched the Royal Ballets performance of Swan Lake. You were around six, and you remember your mother flicking through the TV guide and seeing it and deciding to put it on, much to your detest at the start. But, you found yourself mesmerised as you watched the dancers flitter across the screen with such elegance and grace that you knew straight away that in the future you wanted to embody. It wasn’t the easiest occupation to get into, and it was very draining upon your body. But you loved it, and you were always going to — until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“Have you heard about the new choreographer?” Ethel, your friend asks as you walk towards the academy. You shake your head, “Apparently he’s very fit.”

“But he’s a choreographer.” You curl your nose up, “No choreographers are ever fit. They’re all old and hate the world.”

Ethel shakes her head, “This one is. He’s not too older than us either, but apparently he’s one of best Ballerino’s to ever walk out of the Royal Ballet School.”

“That’s a bold statement.” You say, pulling your bag tighter on your shoulder, “What is he choreographing?”

“The solos, I think.” Ethel adds, holding the door open as you both walk through, “He’s taking over Vernon.”

“Thank god.” You sigh, letting the door close behind you, “He was a horrible man.”

“He was.” Ethel laughs, “At least he’s someone new. We haven’t had a new choreographer in a year.”

A year ago, you and Ethel had graduated from the Royal Ballet school in London and you immediately joined the Royal Ballet. After auditions upon auditions you both had made it to the shortlist and then even made it through to the corps de ballet and were preparing for the audition for Swan Lake. You were positive that you wouldn’t get in, but you were also positive that you wouldn’t get into the school, never mind to the actual Royal Ballet.

Even though you felt like you had made it in life, you certainly hadn’t just yet. Today, you were auditioning to dance as White Swan. It was the next step into completing your dream completely. You were nervous to say the least, and you don’t think you’ve ever practiced something so much in your life.

“Are you ready for this?” Ethel asks as you walk into the back room, where there were quite a few other people who were obviously auditioning for other solos within the ballet.

You sigh, sitting down on the floor and starting to tie your pointe shoes, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll smash it.” She smiles.

“I certainly hoped so.”

You were third to go, which wasn’t too bad. You certainly didn’t want to go first but you didn’t want to go last either. You were nervous, but you felt as though you dealt with it well and floated across the dance floor. You hated to say it, but you did find yourself being distracted quite a bit by the new man in the room, sat at the end of the table with a notebook and pen, watching intently as you dance and making certain notes. None of the choreographers made any hints that you were doing anything good, or not so good for that matter.

“Thank you.” The man said, his voice as soft as silk, “We’ll get to you shortly.”

A week later you were making your way to the notice board, where the solo and cast list were being posted. Ethel was in a rehearsal, so she wasn’t able to come with you and you found yourself being even more nervous due to being on your own.

You hung back and watched as other people rushed towards the list. You had just finished a pointe class, and your muscles were aching and you didn’t feel quite like making a huge scene trying to see the list. You watched as some people had very happy faces, and other had quite disappointed ones.

The group had dispersed quite a while ago, but you still found yourself stood in the corner. You had even started to pretend to scroll through your phone to distract yourself from actually going up to look at what it says on the sheet.

“I don’t think you can see the list from back here.”

You eyes flick up to the voice that startled you from your scroll. The man, who you had since the audition had learnt was called Harry Styles, stood across from you with one corner of his lips curled up.

“I was, uh.” You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I was psyching myself up to look.”

“I’d go look if I was you.”

You nod your head and walk up the sheet, flicking your eyes down until your saw ‘White Swan’. What surprised you even more was the sight of your name in the column next to it. You eyes widen and you turn to look at Harry, who’s stood leant against the wall next to you. He smiles at you, nodding your head as you look at him with a confused look upon your face.

“Me?”

“Yes.” He nods, “You.”

“I got it?” You’re in complete shock, “Me?”

“You did. You earned it. You have one of the best form’s I’ve ever seen in my life. It was an unanimous decision, and you were the certain choice.”

“Wow.” You smile, “Thank you.”

“It’s really no problem.” You watch as he turns slightly to walk away, “Don’t let us down, though.”

You really hoped you wouldn’t. You hadn’t worked harder for something in your entire life, and he was mistaken if he thought it would be the same for this. It was your dream, plain and simple. It was hard to have a dream that lasted only the first thirty years or so of your life. If you were only going to get a limited amount of time to do this, you were going to make the most of it and you had made your first step by doing this.

“I won’t.” You nod your head, “I promise.”

“Good.” And with that, he’s gone.

The first day of rehearsals came quicker than you expected, but you had spent every minute of every day thinking about this day. Ethel had landed a role in the corps de ballet which she was proud of, and you were proud of her for doing so too. It meant that you both were going to be in the performance and go to all the main rehearsals for the group dances. Ethel wouldn’t have to come to the solo rehearsals, which was understandable, but at least you still had the time together now.

“Have I told you how much I really love that leotard?” She says as you shrug your coat off, revealing your black leotard which you’ve paired with a blush pink jumper that falls off your shoulder to match your pointe shoes.

“It’s just a simple black leotard.” You shrug, “It’s nothing special. I think I got it on sale.”

“You style it well, though.”

You sit on the bench and lift your feet up, slipping your toes into your pointe shoes. They weren’t comfortable, that’s a given, but you were used to it by now. You went to your first ballet class at seven years old, and you were now twenty-three. Sixteen years of wearing these shoes frequently meant that your feet had gotten very used to feeling.

“Thank you, Ethel.” You smile, grabbing your water bottle and following her as she walks out of the door and towards the training room.

“Do you think Harry will be here?” She asks, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Possibly. He does solos so he isn’t technically required to be here.”

“He does. It’s the first rehearsal, though. He may want to at least show his face to the rest of us.”

You laugh, “You just want to see his face, Ethel.”

“Maybe I do.” She doesn’t even hide the blush on her cheeks.

In the training room, groups of dancers stand together either stretching or talking. It’s important to stretch and warm up before anything you do, so you and Ethel find a spare spot by the bar and start to stretch your muscles. You stretch every morning quite intensely, warming your muscles up for the day just because you know that you won’t get a lot of time to do so when you arrive at rehearsals and they even ask you to do so before you come so it works better. It’s nice to just refresh your muscles when you arrive, though.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Holland, the main choreographer says as her and a few other people walk into the room, “Welcome all to this years production of Swan Lake.”

A chorus of claps circle around the room, smiles all around as everyone congratulates each other on getting a part. It was very hard to get into productions like these, so you weren’t surprised that you were around the best of the best.

“I’m Holland, I’m pretty sure all of you know me but I’d like to introduce you all to the rest of the team.” She motions to the people behind her, “Isabella is in charge of Pas de deux this year and Harry is in charge of Solo’s, more specifically the Black and White swan’s solos.”

You immediately feel your heats cheek up, knowing that you and whoever is playing the Black swan will be spending time with him. You couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t a handsome man, because he certainly was, but he was your choreographer and he spoke to you in a tone the other day that you couldn’t quite pinpoint but you knew that you weren’t too keen of.

“Today we’re taking it easy, and just introducing some of the group dances. Can both the White and Black swans see Harry, please?”

You freeze with your eyes upon the floor, not wanting to look up.

“That’s you.” Ethel nudges your shoulders.

You nod and stand up, walking towards the corner of the room where Harry stands as well as another girl who you know is called Frances, from being in a few of your classes during school. You smile as you walk over, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Behind you, everyones already stood and following what Holland is saying.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He smiles, “But I just want to discuss some things with the two of you before proper rehearsals start.”

You both follow him out of the large training room into one of the smaller practice rooms that people can you use whenever they want. You find yourself lagging behind as you walk, the feeling of nerves bubbling within you. You have had one solo before in your life, but it certainly wasn’t as important as this one, and you felt yourself getting more and more worried with every second.

“It’s important that the two of you know that I’m your main choreographer, but also that you’re in the group sessions when they’re on.” You both nod, “There aren’t a lot, because even in the group dances you have a lot of solos so you are with me a lot more than in there.”

“That’s why we got these parts though, right?” Frances says, a smile across her lips that you can just tell isn’t a sweet one.

“Not really.” He tilts his head to the side, “You got these parts because we think that you’re able to make the role yours and work hard for it. We can take it away just as easy as we’ve given them you.”

You nod your head and Frances does too, but there’s a little huff that escapes her lips as she does so.

“Our rehearsals start tomorrow, with the White swan, and they’re all going to be in this room.” You nod, but you don’t take any notice of what Fran does, but you guess she nods too, “Just so you know, I don’t appreciate lateness or laziness whilst in the rehearsal.”

“Understood.” You smile, tucking a piece of your hair behind your head.

“Good.” He nods, “You can both return to the main group.”

The next day you find yourself walking into the studio ten minutes before the rehearsal is set to start. The door is open when you walk in, but no one is in which your thankful for. You place your bag down in the corner and start to put your pointe shoes on.

“Morning.” You jump out of your skin at the sound of Harry’s voice walking into the room, “Didn’t mean to make jump.”

“It’s okay.” You chuckle, “I was in my own world and wasn’t paying attention.

He smiles and drops his bag in the corner next to yours. He walks closer to where you’re stood and leans against the bar.

“Have you stretched?” He asks, shrugging off his hoodie. You try not to stare at his physique, but it’s hard not to. Especially when you notice the tattoos that you can see across his arms and his check and stomach underneath the white wife-beater he had on. He also had one some joggers, but you knew it wouldn’t make the best first impression if you continued to stare at him.

“Before I left.” You say, “Not since I got here.”

“We can stretch together.” He says, “Do you use the bar.”

You nod and stand up, smoothing down the wispy bits of your hair that had escaped your bun. You pull your jumper up on your shoulder also, due to the material slipping off everyone once in a while. Your eyes drift to watch as he starts to stretch, using the bar to stretch his peculiarly long limbs. Average male ballet dancers that you’d met in your life hadn’t been as tall as he was, but he had a sort of elegance to him even when he was only stretching that his long limbs only extenuated.

“Have you been dancing long?” You certainly hadn’t expected him to be making small talk with you, but here he was.

You nod, “Since I was seven. Have you?”

“I was ten.” He says and your eyes widen, “I was quite late, to be honest.”

That was quite late, you had to agree with him. Most ballet dancers that you met within your life started even earlier than you, and a lot of them were surprised that you’d started so late but were so successful. Talent comes in any shape or form, and even though he did start quite late, if he was as talented as people made him out to be, then you weren’t surprised that he was as successful as he was starting quite late.

“Did you dance before then?”

“I did.” He nods, “I did tap for a few years before I decided that it wasn’t for me, and then I started ballet lessons.”

You smile and continue to stretch, lifting your leg up to the bar to stretch as far as you can. You can feel your muscles starting to relax as you do so, and you know you’re warmed up.

“Are you ready?” You nod and make your way to stand behind him, at the side slightly so you could see both yourself and Harry in the mirror. You were nervous, to say the least, but you had a slight suspicion that Harry was going to try and make you feel as comfortable as possible.

“We’re going to take it easy.” He says, “Well, as easy as it can be with this show.”

You chuckle and watch as he starts to teach you your solo. You wondered how many times he’d watched the previous performances of the ballet to know the solo as well as he did. You got through the first quarter of the dance or so. It was very quick, and it was basically going through al of the steps and seeing where you needed to focus your practice.

By the end of the rehearsal, you were sweating and you knew that you didn’t look the best just from looking at yourself in the mirror. The dance was one of the hardest you’ve ever done in your life but you knew that was how it was going to be. It was intense, and Harry was certainly right when he said that he knew you’d be able to do it but you needed to put in the hard work. One of the hardest things you found yourself having to do was stopping yourself from getting distracted at the sight of him.

Every time he moved, the muscles within his arms contracted. You didn’t want to stare at him, but you physically couldn’t stop yourself. You wondered if he could tell, or if he was staring at you. More than once during the rehearsal your jumper slipped from your shoulder, dangerously close to revealing your chest and you swear that you saw his eyes drifting at some points but you would never say anything.

“You’ve done well.” He nods, taking a quite a large gulp of water from his bottle, “I knew there was a reason why we’d chosen you, and that certainly was it”

“There are plenty of other dancers that will have been just as good, maybe even better, I’m sure.” You say, placing your hands upon your hips as you try to catch your breath from the jeté’s you had just been doing.

He chuckles, walking over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder, “Have a little more faith in yourself. Not many people will be able to do what you’ve just done.”

You hate to say it, but you do feel fuzzy inside at his words. Flutters fill your belly and you can feel your cheeks heat up. He can see it as well, you’re absolutely sure of it and you nearly faint. The feeling of his fingers upon your skin leaves it heated for quite a while, long after he’d taken his hand off, and way after you’d left the room.

He was your new choreographer, but you couldn’t help but feel as this was the start of something else.

You had been in the practice room for an hour or so.

The group rehearsal had finished an hour ago, and you had planned to go into a practice room to spend a little extra time going over the new moves that Harry had added a day ago at their second rehearsal. The new steps weren’t too bad, but the order they fell in you just couldn’t pick up. You practiced it over and over again but you still couldn’t get it right. You found yourself becoming more and more annoyed with yourself that you couldn’t do it.

You started to do it again, starting with the jeté before moving to the pirouette but you found yourself loosing your balance yet again.

“You need to keep your core straight.”

You jump out of your skin, placing your hand upon your chest as you turn to look at the culprit. It’s Harry, and you aren’t surprised to say the least. He has a tendency of jumping out at you when you least expect it.

“You should wear a bell.” You say, standing up and and walking towards his body, which is leant against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing actual trousers today, and you were wondering if that’s why he wasn’t in the group rehearsal earlier.

“I’ll announce myself next time, I promise.” He laughs, walking towards you. His shoes tap upon the floor as he moves towards you, “Your movements aren’t flowing because your core isn’t strong, and you’re letting your body go dizzy.”

He walks towards you, holding his hands out before retracting them.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” He asks, and you nod, allowing his hands to fall one upon your back and the other upon your stomach. He pushes your stomach in, straightening your back as he does so. You find yourself struggling to breath slightly, but once you do you catch up quickly, “Try again like this.”

“Okay.”

You stay as upright as you can, keeping your core straight as you move. Somehow, you manage to do the sequence without falling over. You sigh in relief and drop down to the floor once you’ve done it. He stands and nods his head, watching as you take a sip of your water.

“See.” He nods his head, “I knew you could do it.”

“Thank you.” You smile, “I knew I could too, I think I was just becoming lazy because I’m tired.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Go home, take a break.” You start to unfasten your pointe shoes, sighing in relief as your toes separate after being in the shoes for way too long, “How long have you been in here?”

“An hour or so.” You shake your head, “I just wanted to get it right.”

“I bet it was right before.” He says, opening the door for you to slip through once you’ve put your proper shoes on and gathered your things, “Your body is just tired, that’s why your form was off. You usually have a great core.”

He had been looking at your. . . core? You felt your cheeks heat up, and you tired your hardest to not to let him see it but it was quite hard under the spotlights of the hallway.

“Thank you, but it really wasn’t. That was the first time I’ve done it properly.”

He turns to you with a grin, “We’ll just to have to agree to disagree, won’t we?”

You can’t stop the blush that rises upon your cheeks at his words, but more so at his grin. It’s cheeky and boyish and sort of flirty. He couldn’t have been flirting with you, but a part of you prayed that he was.

“Have a good night.” He smiles at you, “Sleep and don’t worry about the dance.”

“I’ll try.”

“One. . . two. . . three. . . four—”

His counting has been ringing through your ears since your arrived at the rehearsal an hour ago. You couldn’t tell whether there was something wrong with him, or whether you had done something wrong for him to be in such a mood.

You had managed to ignore the fact that he completely ignored you once you’d walked in, and focused more on showing him that since you last saw him, you had mastered the sequence you were struggling with completely.

Everyone has bad days, you knew that, but it’s hard to learn a dance when your teacher is so stoic that you can’t tell whether or not you’re doing the moves right. His eyebrows have been furrowed since you walked through the door, and the clicks of his fingers were so loud that you can’t help but wonder whether or not they have blistered.

You manage to perform the sequence of steps, from start to about half way which you’ve managed to learn in the two weeks that you’ve been learning the steps. It’s nice to know that you’re able to do it, no matter how much you’ve struggled and that it’s been hard work, you’ve done it.

“We’re moving onto the pirouettes next.” He says, standing with his hands upon his hips as he does so. The harsh look upon his face doesn’t leave, and you truly wonder what had happened for him to be this way with you.

It’s making you feel as though every step you make isn’t right, when you know in fact that it is.

“The what?” You are struggling to catch your breath, after non-stop dancing for an hour can’t believe that he wants to do the pirouettes with you.

“Pirouettes.” He stands facing you, instead of you looking at him through the mirror and you wonder what you’re going to do, “Do as many as you can until the music drops.”

You weren’t quite sure what he was asking of you. You furrow your eyebrows, but Harry just stares at you. He looks at you as if to say why aren’t you doing it yet, so you decide you’re better off just starting the pirouettes.

You start, lifting your body into fourth position with both legs straight. You fix your eyes onto a spot where the mirrors meet. After taking a breath, you bend both legs into a deep pilé, concentrating on sinking your heels into the wooden floor so you could push into the spin. You focus your core, keeping it tight. You spring to a retiré position, before relevé to a full pointe with your back foot to your front leg. You hold your body in the position spin, flicking your head quickly so that you can focus yet again on the gap in the mirror. Once you’ve completed one, you continue to go round and round, trying to ignore the aching within your bones and the throbbing within your head.

You manage eight before you loose your balance and drop to the ground, immediately sitting with your head in between your legs.

“Have a break, and then we’ll start again.”

You sigh and shake your head, “I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean?” Harry says, furrowing his eyebrows, “Of course you can.”

“I can’t do it.”

“You’ve done eight.” He shrugs, “You can do more.”

“I’ll be able to.” You say, “But I can’t do them now.”

If you honest, you hadn’t woken up feeling the best this morning. You often get headaches that throughout the course of the day transition into migraines. You had felt it coming on at the start of the day, and you knew with how much you had to do you couldn’t pull out of the rehearsal but at this point you were seriously considering it. The pirouettes seriously hadn’t helped with the throbbing within your head and you had started to feel quite nauseous.

“If you have that attitude then you certainly won’t be able to, and it’s probably best that you leave.”

You’re completely taken aback, unable to believe that the man who has been nothing but nice to you throughout this whole thing had just said something so horrid to you. You were mortified and if you hadn’t felt sick before, you certainly did now.

“You know what.” You stand up, “I think that’s a good idea.”

You leave the room and don’t look back.

The next rehearsal, thankfully, was a group one. You and Ethel had made your way to the training room bright and early, ready for what the day was going to hold. You hadn’t told Ethel about what happened earlier in the week with Harry. It would have been nice to talk to someone about it but you knew that you shouldn’t, so you didn’t. It was, however, the thing that fluttered around in your brain on a loop. Doing everyday mundane things you found yourself distracted. Instead of being upset or angry anymore, you were concerned, and you just hoped that he was okay mainly.

The two of you had stretched yourselves pretty quickly, leaving you stood in the right corner of the room waiting for it to start. You couldn’t help but wonder whether or not Harry was going to be in the rehearsal today. He normally was, but after the last one, you had no idea what was going to happen. A part of you wished to see him, and the other part of you didn’t. It was as though you had a devil and angel on your shoulder, bickering between the options of whether or not you wanted to see his face.

In the back of your mind you knew that this man was your choreographer. You knew that traditionally that you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him, since he had the same role as a teacher would, but you really couldn’t help it. It didn’t help that he was one of the prettiest people you had ever seen in your life — and one of the nicest apart from the last time you saw him — but the was besides the point. You were an adult, and you were allowed to have these feelings, even though you were positively sure that they aren’t reciprocated.

Both Holland and Isabella walk into the room, but there is no sign of Harry. You try to ignore the disappointment that sits in the pit of your stomach but you can’t.

You should be angry at the man, livid even, that he said such a thing to you but you really weren’t. That was your own fault, but that didn’t mean that all would be forgotten from that day. You were at least expecting an apology the next time you saw him.

“Everyone get into positions for the start of the second half.” Holland calls and everyone moves from their groups into positions.

You weren’t on the stage at the start, so you move to the corner of the room by the door and watch everyone else. You try your hardest not to let your mind wander, but you can’t help it. Your thumb is running back and forth over your bottom lip, furrowing your eyebrows as you did so.

“If you furrow your eyebrows anymore your face is going to stay like that.”

You don’t even jump at the sound of his voice. Your heart does start to beat a little faster, since your certainly weren’t expecting him to be so close to you, but you wouldn’t tell anybody that.

“Was starting to think you just hated me.”

“Could never hate you.” He shakes his head, “You’re too good of a dancer for me to ever hate you.”

You have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You manage to, but before either one of you could say anything else, you see your cue and you’re out on the floor.

You try to ignore his stare as you move around the room, remembering the choreography you had learnt whilst also trying to be as elegant and strong as you physically could be. You remembered to keep your core straight, and if you weren’t mistaken by the few times you looked over at him, Harry’s eyes hadn’t left you.

You were unsure whether it was something your were flattered about, or whether you were slightly concerned about it. You weren’t too concerned, but you found yourself wondering why he was doing this. The last time he saw you he told you to leave, and now he couldn’t get his eyes off of you.

Once the dance had finished, and you had your lips around your water bottle that you were taking a sip from, you swear you saw Harry’s head flick towards the door. You furrow your eyebrows and lift you finger up, pointing at yourself as if to ask whether he was looking at you.

He nods his head and walks out of the door, leaving you confused but walking towards him and consequently out of the room. You bite the lid of your bottle as you do so. You knew exactly where he was, and the second you walked into the room you saw him stood in the middle of it with an almost defeated look upon his face.

“I’m sorry.”

You swear your heart almost bursts out of your chest.

You nod your head, “Okay.”

“I was a dick.” You nod again, “And you didn’t deserve it at all. I shouldn’t have asked you to leave and I should’ve asked if you were okay the second you dropped to the floor. I’m sorry, I really am.”

“I accept your apology, I do.” He seems to sigh with relief, “But! You have to be extra nice to me next rehearsal. If I want a break, I want a break.”

He chuckles, “You can have as many breaks as you like.”

“Good.”

To say rehearsals have been different since Harry apologised to you would be an understatement. You found yourself enjoying them, no matter how hard you had to work, and you looked forward to them in your week.

You believe it might have been because of the change in relationship between the two of you. It was much nicer, and also a little flirtier. You had noticed Harry coming over to help you by touching you more, he was forever smirking and winking at you and some of the things he said completely turned you to putty in his arms.

You’d like to think he’d noticed, but you really couldn’t be sure.

“Dress rehearsals start next week.” He says as you take a break, sipping on some water whilst holding a banana in your other hand, “Are you nervous?”

You shrug, “A little bit. I know I’ve worked hard but there are still a lot of things that could go wrong.”

“I disagree.” You throw him a quizzical look, “I agree that you work hard because you’re one of the most hardworking people I’ve ever met. I don’t agree that a lot of things could go wrong because that just isn’t true — one thing could.”

You knew what he was talking about.

You drop back so you’re laid on the group, “The pirouettes.”

“The pirouettes.” He nods and stands up, so you sit up, “I know you can do it, you just need to believe in yourself.”

You sigh, “Can you just do the pirouettes for me?”

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Like the audience wouldn’t notice you slipping off and a six-foot man taking your place to do some spins.”

“I’m sure they’d be highly entertained.”

“I’m sure we’d have thousands of complaints to deal with.”

You laugh and he joins in. You finish your banana and stand up, tucking some of the hair that had fallen out of your bun back before moving to the middle of the room.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.”

“I do.” Harry nods, crossing his arms over his chest, “Focus on your spot and never take your eyes off it, remember your core and remember to bounce yourself. The higher bounce you get at the start, the more you’ll be able to spin.”

You’re unsure how it happened, but after listening to Harry’s words you manage to complete almost twenty pirouettes. The most that had taken place during the small amount of time in a performance had been thirty-two, and to say that you’d never done more than ten in your life before meant that you were pretty proud of yourself.

“See.” He says smugly, “I knew you could do it.”

You watch as he walks towards you, shoving this hand into the pocket of his jogging bottoms. You weren’t one to necessarily like people who are so in-your-face smug but there was something different about the way Harry said things. He didn’t say them maliciously, or to make himself feel better but to just tease you slightly. He was close to you, and you resisted the urge to let out a little squeak of nervousness.

“Are you going to start believing in yourself?”

“Hmm.” You ponder, “I might have to be reminded again, and again.”

It all happened quickly, but before you could process anything happening, Harry’s lips were on yours.

He kissed you. You felt his lips upon yours, his hand immediately reaching to rest upon her cheek. The nervous squeak you held in escaped your lips as he did so, but he masked it with him. You gripped the material of his wife-beater, bunching it up at his stomach as you pulled him towards you. Your lips parted once you’d felt his tongue dance upon your lips, allowing it to slip through them. You were shocked, but you never wanted it to end.

It did end though, like all good things do. He pulled away from you and you felt even more out of breath than if you had just performed your solo. You looked at him with wide eyes and lifted your fingers to run over your swollen lips,

“Did that remind you?”

Dress rehearsals had started, but all you could find yourself thinking about was Harry’s lips on yours.

You stood backstage at the Royal Opera House, looking at yourself within the mirror as you ran your hand over your costume. It was white, and completely gorgeous. The tutu fluttered out gems and sparkles fluttered along the bodice with a hugged your curves perfectly. You had the head piece on as well, but you hadn’t done your makeup. It was the first time you’d seen the costume upon your body, and you were in love with it.

“You proper look like the white swan now.” Ethel smiles, placing her hand upon your shoulder, squeezing slightly, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” You turn to look at her, and the costume she had on and you gasp, “And look at you! Absolutely beautiful!”

The two of you giggle and walk towards the main stage where everyone was collected. You stood to the side with Ethel, even though she’s quickly scooped away by some of her friends. You stand and done move, going over the moves of your solo in your head just to make sure you knew what you were doing.

Holland calls you all to start soon. It wasn’t the first time that you’d ran the performance all the way through, but it was the first time that you’d done it in your costume.

You manage to make it through the first half of the performance without any malfunctions from yourself, but you can’t say the same for everyone else. It was around half way through the third section of dance or so when you noticed Harry sat on the front row, his eyes never leaving you as you dance around the stage. When your first section of solo dance came up, you saw Harry’s eyes furrowing as you danced. You couldn’t watch him throughout the entire thing, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he never looked away from you.

During the interval, you go backstage and make your way towards a bathroom. As you make your way closer, you try to find the fasten of your tutu so that you can quickly pull it off. What you hadn’t expected as you down the hall and towards the bathroom was to be pulled into one of the rooms you pass.

You squeal as you feel the hand around your arm, but once you’re in the room, you’re silenced by someone’s lips upon yours.

You can tell that it’s Harry immediately. You can tell not only from his lips upon yours, but also from his hand that he places upon your cheek. You feel the coolness of his ring, and the slight itch from his stubble, but you really aren’t complaining. You lift your hand to the back of his neck, slipping your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

His fingers run across your thighs, being light so that he doesn’t rip the thin material. After a minute or so, you pull away, turning your head so that his drops upon your shoulder whilst you catch you breath.”

“Harry?” He hums against your neck, placing a small kiss there, “I really need a wee.”

He laughs and stands up, pecking your lips once more. You smile into the kiss and it seems to only grow afterwards.

“Well you better go and have one.” He chuckles and you nod, “But I’ll only let you go if your promise me something.”

“What?”

“You’ll wait for me afterwards?”

“After what? My wee, because I have to back on stage after—”

“No.” He chuckles, “Not after you’ve had your wee, but after you’ve finished tonight. I want to take you somewhere.”

“Sounding very stalker-ish of you, Styles.” She furrows her eyebrows, “But I’ll wait for you.”

The second half, and your solo goes okay. You managed to do sixteen pirouettes but your brain was in overdrive, thinking of everywhere that Harry could be taking you. Once you all finished, you couldn’t help but rush to get changed and ready to leave. You hadn’t borough the nicest of clothes, only some jeans and a jumper since the air had started to get quite a lot cooler now that autumn had shown its face.

“You ready?” He asks once you’ve walked out of the theatre and find him stood by the wall next to the door.

You nod and follow him. The two of you don’t talk, but his hand does slip into yours as you walk. He’s very smooth in the way that he does it, slipping his hand into yours as you walked across the busy London road. Your cheeks heated as he did so, and you couldn’t help the small smile that planted across your lips.

You knew that you shouldn’t feel this way about someone who was like a teacher for you, and you knew at some point that the two of you would have to speak about what this even was but at this point you were just happy.

You certainly hadn’t expected to end up at a cinema, but here you were. Harry scanned the two tickets he already conveniently already had. The tickets were halfway up in the cinema, where you normally enjoyed sitting but you certainly had never told Harry this.

“If you wanted to see a movie with me, you should’ve just asked.” You whisper to Harry as you both sit down, “You didn’t have to basically kidnap me into a storage room and shove your tongue down my throat.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining about my tongue down your throat.” He says, and you can almost hear the smirk upon his lips, “Just watch, you’ll understand why I brought you here in a second.”

You did understand. The recording was from 2015, one that you hadn’t seem before which was surprising because you’re absolutely certain that you’d watched the majority of them. You wonder if this was one that you hadn’t been able to find before, to nitpick every single movement that the white swan made.

Harry’s hand sat tightly in yours as you watched, never moving throughout the entire performance.

Once it had finished, you found yourself sat in an Italian restaurant that was next to the cinema, the both of you having ordered pasta and having large glasses of red wine to wash it down.

“Why did you bring me to see that?”

Harry smiles, placing his glass down that he had just taken a sip from, “It’s my favourite performance, so far, of Swan Lake. I didn’t know whether you’d already seen it, and you’re probably fed up of it but I thought you needed to see it.”

You shake your head, “I hadn’t seen it.”

“You remind me of her.” He smiles, “Giovanna, who was the White Swan. She was a few years older than me, and I met her getting lost in the school.”

“You knew her?”

He nods, “We were best friends, for a few years, and she taught me everything I know about how to be the best ballerino I could be. I was there when she was got the part, and I used to watch her practice.”

“That’s how you know the solo so well.”

He nods, “She believed she couldn’t do it. I can’t count the amount of times she said that she couldn’t do it. She hardly slept because of it. They recorded that opening night, and it took me sitting her down and showing her that for her to believe that she could do it.”

He’s interrupted by the waitress coming with their pasta, which they smile in thanks at.

“Thank you.” He nods his head at the waitress, “I’m more involved with you as the White Swan, and I swore to never let anyone who I worked with whether it be on this production or not, feel like Giovanna did.”

“How could you tell?”

“You always look as though you’re battling with yourself within your head.” He says, “You need to know that when you’re on that stage, and it’ll be even more like this when you believe yourself, you are elegant and you look absolutely beautiful.”

If you weren’t in public, and if you didn’t have a mouthful of tomato pasta in your mouth, you probably would’ve cried at his words. You couldn’t believe how much this man actually cared about you and how you were doing.

“Are you still friends with her?”

“No.” He shakes his head, “She left a few years ago, didn’t tell me where she was going or why she was doing it. I haven’t heard from her since.”

You drop your head, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, “You’re the new swan in my life, and between the two of us, I much prefer you.”

“Do you think people are going to mind?” You ask, moving your pasta around on your plate, not daring to look up at him, “You’re like my teacher, and we don’t exactly have one of the more conventional relationships.”

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “And you shouldn’t either, swan.”

The day of the first performance was here, and you were absolutely dreading it.

“Ethel.” You shake your head, “I really can’t do this.”

“Oh shut up.” She places her hands upon your shoulders as you look at yourself in the mirror, sighing as you made sure your wispy pieces of your hair were down, “You’re going to be fine. You’re only worried about the pirouettes and you managed twenty-two yesterday.”

“It’s not thirty-two though.” You shake your head, “It isn’t good enough.”

Yesterday it was your last run through of the solo with Harry in the practice room. Even though the relationship between the two had shifted dramatically since their first rehearsal, and yesterday it almost felt as though you were back in with that Harry.

The flirty banter that the two had adopted wasn’t there, and you were both focused on getting it right. It was the first time that you had managed to do more than twenty pirouettes, which had been your best, but it was now twenty-two. You had sighed in relief and finished your solo dance with a smile upon your face.

“You’ll be fine.” Ethel smiles, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, you’ll go out there and smash it. I have to go and do my makeup, but I’ll see you during the interval — I promise.”

You nod, accept her hug and sigh yet again at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t felt this nervous in a long time, not even when you auditioned for the ballet school, or even when you auditioned for the part of the white swan. In every other aspect of your life, you were confident. In your dancing, that’s when you found yourself spiralling in the most.

“Hey white swan.” You can’t help but smile at the sound of Harry’s voice behind you, your body immediately turning around to look at him.

You don’t want to seem shocked, but the sight of him all dressed up causes your heart to beat quickly within your chest. You hadn’t seen him dressed up in this way before, a blue button up upon his body, as well as yellow trousers and a grey jacket. His hair framed his face in such a way that you couldn’t help but press your thighs together. You very much liked Harry’s practice outfits that show off his strong body, but there was something else about seeing him dressed in such a way that you liked even more.

“Hi.” You laugh, standing up to wrap your arms around him. It’s an awkward hug, with the two of you trying to navigate your way around your tutu, “You look fancy.”

“And you look gorgeous.” He pulled away from you and leant back against the wall, whilst you leant against the chair you were just sat on, “Ethel saw me on the way in.”

You laugh, “What did she say?”

“That you’re spiralling again.” He laughs, “I thought we’d spoken about this.”

“I know.” You nod your head, “I’m just scared about the pir—”

“—If you dare say pirouettes!”

You laugh as he interrupts your words, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, “You know that you can do it, and I believe in you. You’re going to smash this and I’m going to be front row cheering your on.”

Without a single hesitation, you cast your eyes around the room in hopes to see nobody there, which there isn’t, and you throw your arms around his neck and place your lips upon his. He smiles into the kiss, and you do too, but you quickly pull away because you know that anybody could walk in at any moment.

Harry flutters his eyes over at the clock, “It’s time, white swan. I’ll be here afterwards.”

In your first performance of Swan Lake, you manage twenty-six pirouettes. It’s the most you’ve ever done, and once you’ve done it, you find yourself finishing the entire performance in higher spirits than when you started it.

Somehow, you were finishing the day of your first performance with your thighs wrapped around Harry’s waist as he presses you up against the door of your flat. He had offered to walk you home, and the flirty way the two of you had become accustomed to felt a change as you walked home. You felt as though there was a magnet pulling you together and the closer you got to your flat, the closer you felt towards each other.

You suspect that was why you were now pressed up against your door.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Harry murmurs against your lips, and you smile against them.

With him holding you up by your thighs, and with your half arsed directions, you both make your way towards your bedroom. Harry places you down upon your bed, his fingers grasping the jumper upon your skin. You pull away slightly and he pulls it above your head, exposing your chest to him. He leans down to press another kiss to your lips, moving down to your neck. He litters kisses down your cheeks, and your neck until he’s upon your chest. You hadn’t worn a bra with your jumper, so you’re completely exposed to him.

The next movement he makes is to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around one of your budding nipples, using his thumb to tweak the other. Your hips are involuntarily bucking towards his.

“Fuck, Harry.” You sigh, smiling down at his head as he kisses down your stomach until he reaches the band of your jogging bottoms.

He stops his movements and rests his head upon your stomach, “What do you want?”

“Want you to lick me.” He smiles at your words, and hooks his fingers into the band of your jogging bottoms, pulling them as well your underwear down your legs.

He placed a litter of kisses across the inside of your thighs, teasing you until you can help but lift your hips up to him.

“Are you this wet all for me, baby?” He questions, running his thumb across your clothed clit, “Got yourself all messy for me.”

“You have a way with words.” You grin, reaching forward to run your fingers through his hair, “And a way with your mouth.”

“You don’t need to flatter me anymore, I’m already in your bed.” He pecks your pubic bone, “But my ego really appreciates it.”

“Your narcissistic side is showing.”

“What did you expect?” He runs his fingers across your pubic bone, “You’re so fucking ready for me. All wet and ready for me to have a taste.”

He starts with small kitten licks that have you withering across your duvet, small whines leaving your lips. He wraps his lips around your clit, mixing between nibbling and licking.

You moan, lifting your back up off of the bed, “Can I use my fingers, baby?”

“Please.” You nod, watching as he lifting his fingers up to your mouth, pushing them through your parted lips so you could swivel your tongue around them, wetting them to make them easier for him to push into you. He pushes his index finger in, rhythmically moving it in and out whilst also licking and flicking your clit with his tongue. Each thing his does coaxes you closer and closer to your orgasm, the way he skilfully uses his tongue sending moans spilling out of your lips.

“Don’t stop!” Harry drops his hand to your stomach, pushing down so that you aren’t moving you hips as he brings you closer to your peak, “M’gonna come.”

“Come for me, baby.” He murmurs against you, flicking his tongue quickly.

You can feel your stomach tightening as he moves quickly, the feeling causing your toes to curl as he does so.

“Fuck.” He uses his fingers and his tongue to coax you through your orgasm.

You honestly couldn’t believe that you had waited this long to have him touch you. Moans spill out of your lips as you reach your high, the euphoric feeling spreading over your entire body.

Harry kisses your clit one last time, kissing up your stomach and around your breasts, up until he wrapped his lips around your nipple. He allowed you to recover and calm your breathing whilst he kissed up your body.

“Good?”

You hum, a small giggle escaping your lips, “Fucking amazing.”

“I’m glad your enjoyed it.” He laughed, leaning down to place a kiss to your lips.

Feeling as though you had recovered from your orgasm, you start to unbutton his trousers. He grins against your lips as you slip your hand beneath the band of his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his length.

“I want you to fuck me.” You whisper against his lips, the corners of yours curling up.

“Yeah.” He grins, “Have you got any condoms?”

You were glad at this point that you’d picked some up during your daily shop. Not that you had expected anything, but it was always good to be prepared.

“Yeah.” You nod, “In the bedside table.”

He stands up from the bed and unbuttons his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and he makes his way towards the drawer. You eyes never leave his body, watching as his ever muscle flexes. He opens the drawer and drops his hand in, and if you weren’t already flushed, you certainly would be from what he pulls out.

“What’s this?” He holds up the small vibrator that you had bought a few years ago to relive some of your tension every once in a while.

“God.” You drop back upon the bed, your head rested on the pillow as your bring your hand to your forehead, “Just something I use to relive some of the tension in me every once in a while.”

“The tension?” He raises his eyebrow, “When was the last time you used it?”

You shrug, “Ages ago. I think it was after the first dress rehearsal.”

“That long ago? We’ll have to change that.” He turns the little machine on to its first setting, holding it as it vibrates in his hand.

“Are you going to use that on me?” You ask, writhing as he places it upon your budding nipple.

“As tempting as it is.” He smirks, taking it away just as a moan threatens to leave your lips, “I think we’ll save it for another day.”

He turns it off and places it back in the bedside table, taking the box of condoms that are in there out also. He takes the foil packet out and at the same time pushes his underwear off of his body, revealing his member to you. It was already red, the tip angry and already leaking pre-come as it stood out from his body.

You can’t take your eyes off him. You had had some encounters with people before hand, you had needs, but you certainly hadn’t been with anyone quite so well endowed. He uses his teeth to rip open the packet, pinching it between his fingers and rolling it over his length.

“Can I ride you?” You ask, watching as Harry kneels on the edge of the bed.

He raises his eyebrows, “Do you want to?”

“I do.” You smile, watching as he laid down next to you.

“Hop on then.” He smirks, reaching for your hips as your straddle him.

You take him in your hand, lining him up with your centre. He grips your hips, guiding you down onto his cock. You moan as he fills you up, but you can move at your own speed and wait as long as you needed.

“Fuck.” He moans, sitting up to rest his head against your shoulder, “So fucking tight around my cock. Squeezing me just right.”

You couldn’t believe how much you were throbbing between your legs at the sounds of his words. Once you’ve become accustomed to his size, you started to bounce up and down on him. You catch his lips with yours, allowing yourself to succumb under the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t help the moans that tumbled out of your lips whilst you bounce, Harry’s hips lifting to meet yours.

“Harry, fucking hell.” He was making you feel so full, and so good, “Fuck, can I go faster?”

“Go as fast as you want, baby.” He kisses your lips briefly, “Make yourself come on my cock.”

You bounce your hips faster, leaning forward to grip your headboard to give you more leverage to move your hips. You could feel sweat collecting upon your brow and body, your hair sticking to your neck. The only sound in the room was your moans and your groans, as well as the creaking of your bed and your headboard hitting the wall. You prayed at this point that your neighbours couldn’t hear you through your wall.

“I’m gonna come, H.” You moan out, lowering one of your hands so that you could rub your clit. Harry immediately notices and pushes your hand away, replacing it with his own finger rubbing quickly to coax your second orgasm of the night.

“Come on my cock, baby.” He speeds up his hips meeting yours, “Come on, I wanna feel you.”

Your second orgasm washes over you quicker than your first, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Harry thrusts harshly up into you a few time and you feel him spill into the condom. He groans against your neck as you collapse on top of him.

You had never felt so close to someone as you did to Harry, and even though you weren’t together yet it just felt right to take this step.

“You’re incredible, swan.”

You laugh and roll off him, whimpering at the feeling of him leaving you. You lay down next to him and watch as he takes the condom off and places it in the small bin in the corner of your room. Whilst he does that, you quickly make your way towards the bathroom to pee and clean yourself up. Never in your whole life had you felt this wet and orgasmed so hard from being with someone, and you don’t know whether to thank Harry or worship the ground that he walks on.

As you walk back into your room, you notice Harry laid upon your bed, shirtless and smiling as you walk back into the room. You slip into bed next to him.

“Harry?” He hums, “If I perform like this every night, are you going to do this overnight?”

“If you want me to, swan, I’ll never stop.”

You didn’t want him to.

A couple of months later, your time as the White Swan had finished. Your parents, as well as both Ethel and Harry, joined you for celebratory drinks. You found yourself loving having Harry with you, and Harry loved being with you as far as you could tell.

Waking up the next morning, you can’t remember the last time you woke up without having something to do the next day. Harry’s deep breaths fill your ears as he rests upon your neck, his arm around your waist and his leg pressed in between yours. You loved the feeling of having him so close to you, and you felt as though you couldn’t ever have him away from you now.

“Are you awake?” His voice is low and gruff in a morning, and it sparks something between your legs almost immediately.

“No.” You smile, “I’m still asleep.”

“I think you should stick to ballet, lying isn’t your forte.” He squeezes your middle, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I’m not lying. I’m still asleep.” You smile, relishing in the feeling of his arm around you.

He laughs, “I didn’t know I was with a sleep talker, swan. If I’d have known I would’ve been running for the hills.”

“How long have you been awake then?” You laugh, “Have you been watching me sleep?”

“Not watching.” He laughs, “Observing.”

You turn your head briefly so that you’re looking at him, leaning forward to place a kiss to his cheek.

“Kissy?”

“Morning breath.” You grimace, “Once I’ve brushed my teeth, maybe.”

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “I just want a kiss.”

“I care, though.”

“‘Gis a kiss, baby.” You lean forward and place a closed-lipped peck to his lips.

“Good enough?”

“I guess that’s all I’m getting.”

“That is correct.” You laugh.

Harry’s eyes fall upon yours, and he doesn’t look away. Even though he just woke up, he’s so effortlessly gorgeous that you can’t help but want to jump his bones and kiss him all of the time.

In your opinion, you had hit the jackpot. It was the most traditional relationship, but Harry was your person. From the first day you walked into the rehearsal room and Harry looked at you with such joy in his eyes you knew he was for you. You didn’t care what anyone else though, and you only wanted him.

You were falling for him, at a fast speed but you certainly would never complain.

“Be mine?”

“What?” You question, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Be my girlfriend?” He asked, “Be mine?”

You ponder the thought for a couple of seconds, leaving him waiting before your lips curl up into a smile, “Okay.”

“Okay.” You kiss him again, “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“My swan.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you once again.

You laugh, “I feel like that’s going to be my forever nickname.”

“It’s how we met.” He smiles, “I never want to forget it.”

You never do.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles au #harry styles writing

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elius-learns-to-write · 3 years

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Beach Day

Hey Besties <3, I plan on getting 3 more posts like this out today as I know I haven't been the most active this week, then tomorrow there will be 2 more out so it means I have posted 7 written works this week. So keep your onions peeled. (the amazing writer @sapphireplums gave me so much inspiration to write with their kind words so you should give her a follow).

Summary: The avengers get their toes in the sand and their swimsuits on.

You had all been working for what felt like 200 years

With missions and paperwork none of you had seen each other properly

So an hour of brainstorming you came up with the genius idea of a beach day

You decided to put the idea to Fury so he could clear everyone's schedule

However it took a lot more convincing than you had expected

You shivered under the mans watchful gaze, you never really understood documentary presenters when they talked about the look of fear in some poor mouse's eyes as it was scooped up into the talons of some large bird, that was until you met Fury, you were sure you had the same look in your eyes right now. You shifted in your seat as he began to talk again, “So you want me to let the world's protectors go off duty for a whole day just so you can go running across some sand and take a swim in salty water? Even though if you wanted to get sand in your hair I would happily get you a bag of it?” he asked a hint of amusement in his voice, pausing his pacing to quirk his eyebrow at you. When he worded it like that it sounded stupid but you knew you all needed a break and you weren’t about to give up “I wouldn’t phrase it like that but yes sir that is in a way what I am asking, look we haven’t been together as a group since the last big team mission a month ago and I can’t remember the last time we spent a day together. Please?” If you can’t get someone to agree by simply asking them then tug at their heartstrings and beg. Those had been the wise words of your grandma Jo and it seems that they had been true “Fine you get 1 day then it’s all back to normal”

After convincing the terrifying director you had taken the idea to Tony as he was going to be the one paying for it

It’s not like he doesn’t have enough money to give some to his friends (and even more to charity but that was an idea for another day)

Of course the man more than happy to splash some cash to see everyone have fun together (and in a swimsuit)

The morning of the trip had been stressful and chaotic to say the least

“DOES EVERYONE HAVE SUN CREAM?” the captain's voice boomed over the noise of zippers shutting, the music from the beach day playlist Tony had made and the excited chattering of the team. “Yes Captain safety first I have enough bottles in the car to last at least 20 years because unlike Y/n I actually know how to take care of myself” the genius quipped laughing at the offended noise that fell from your mouth, “at least I’m not going grey old man” you muttered wandering around trying to find the bucket and spade you had brought down stairs. “Hey as anyone who has seen my Bucket and Spade I can’t seem to find it” you called out rummaging through the colossal pile of bags “No, are you sure you brought it down doll?” Bucky spoke, looking round in confusion not remembering seeing you bring it down. If you weren’t so caught up in looking for your sandcastle building tools you would have laughed at the ‘lost tourist’ look on his face. “Yes I’m sure,” shoving bags with more aggression eager to find it “is everyone sure they haven’t taken it” you stopped to look at the group, cheeks tinted pink from the force at which you were moving bags. “Yes , we’re sure now get downstairs and in the car I’ll get you one when we get there” rushed Natasha, her red hair a nice contrast to the dark denim shorts she had on, “if we get there” whispered Sam making Thor laugh as he attempted to pick up 3 bags at once.

Anyone would have thought you were going on a 5 day holiday with the amount you had all tried to shove in the back of the mini-van you all chipped in for one year at Christmas for this exact reason

The seniors of the group ( Iced Americano and The metal armed man with no plan) were confused on why you needed to take this much but you and Wanda were insistent that you had packed the essentials

(Okay maybe the hats, 5 bottles of sun cream and armbands and floats for the poor swimmers of the pack had been slightly unconventional for a day at the beach but it’s better safe than sorry right?)

The drive was also very chaotic

You hadn’t realised how uncomfortable the seats had been until you were forced to spend 2 hours stuck next to Loki in them. “I know this is the 10th time I have asked this but are we there yet?” the God was starting to seem more like a 5 year old than a stabbing machine and he wasn’t the only one ,“Can you please move your leg over a bit it’s on my side” Sam whined as he shoved Bucky’s shoulder “No for the last time I can’t so deal with it bird brain” the pair hadn’t stopped bickering since they stepped foot inside the vehicle. “Tony can you turn up the music and drown the noise of these kids out please” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose trying to soothe the oncoming headache (not that making the music even louder was going to help) “I thought you’d never ask kid” he replied lunging for the twisty thing no one actually knew the name of, that turned up the music (Bruce probably knew but no one had the energy to ask).

When you got there however the 2 hour drive felt like the needed sacrifice as your toes hit the sand.

As much as you loved being able to fight alongside your family there was nothing better than watching them relax, faces slowly morphing into ones of pure bliss.

“You alright there y/n? You looked like you were away with the fairies then” Steve chuckled, unfolding the deck chair he had brought and placing it next to yours. “Yeah I’m good I was just thinking about how lucky we are to have each other” the man smiled at you as your eyes glinted in the sunshine. “LAST ONE TO THE WATER SMELLS OF FISH” Peter screamed bolting towards the water, that bastard you thought jumping up and running after him “PETER YOU DICK I’M GONNA GET YOU!!!” you laughed. Once you got in the water you squeaked at how cold it was doing the ‘ohh ohh oh sihufbbe’ noise that came with the shock of cold water spinning around to splash water in bug boys face. Oh shit. That wasn’t Peter, you had forgotten that Bruce had gotten into the water straight after Tony and had been swimming beside you. The whole group froze half expecting the man to turn green however what you were met with wasn’t a green mean smashing machine and was in fact a laughing doctor and a splash of water to the face. After that a water fight started, screams of surprise and joy a comforting change to the screams of fear you usually heard in your line of work. You snuck off back to shore and looked at your found family from the warmth of your towel realising how lucky you were to be in a place of love and support, free of judgement. Because at the end of the day yes Loki would complain about the sand in his hair, Thor would be asking for a stop at the shops to add to his Pop tart stock pile, Nat would be silently filming Sam and Bucky bicker like an old married couple, Tony would make flirty remarks to Pepper about letting him rub sun cream on her back again some time, Peter and you would be talking shit to each other as he beat you at yet another game of Mario kart as Wanda and vision made sure to make an extra bowl of whatever they had made to take Bruce who had already made his way down to the lab but you were a family and there was no place you’d rather be.

You would say this was the best idea you ever had but the video of you painting Cap’s shield bright pink would beg to differ

It was a successful trip and you would 100% be posting the picture of Bucky and Peter looking depressed at the fact their ice-creams had fallen on the floor after a light game of ‘I’m gonna push you over’

Ahhhh the bliss of a beach day with the gang

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jincherie · 3 years

Text

four’s company | rapline [m]

✘ — pairing: boxer!rapline x male!reader ✘ — genre: smut!, boxer au, poly au ✘ — wc: 6.4k ✘ — rating: 18+ ✘ — warnings: minor injuries (occupational hazard kind), smut: mxm, light (accidental) voyeurism, light hand kink, baby boy reader, sub/bottom reader, dom/top members, foursome, anal sex, protected sex (don’t forget to wrap ‘em, lads and ladies!), fellatio ✘ — notes: part of a fic exchange within the ghostie network, i’m sorry it’s late!!!!! please accept my humblest apologies!!! @bangtanloverboys here you go!! i hope it’s not too shitty!!!

If accidentally walking in on your three crushes in a heated moment, not once, not twice, but thrice isn’t enough to capture their attention, then you don’t know what is. You’re about to find out that you’ve had their attention for a while, though.

— posted; 02.01.2021 || masterlist

For what is far from the first time tonight, you feel the weight of a certain gaze.

Well, to be more specific, it hasn’t just been one gaze you’ve felt on you tonight. More like… three.

You know who they belong to, unfortunately. It’s the same three people that you found in an… interesting situation earlier. On that was, no doubt, not meant for outside eyes.

Well, you say that, but you feel like that’s just because you, yourself, are mortified. To be honest, the three boxers you found locking lips and making out in the locker room didn’t seem to be all that ashamed about it.

In fact, when they caught you in the motion of fleeing, they’d had the audacity to grin about it!

Utterly humiliating. You haven’t been able to bring your gaze anywhere near them all day. To make matters worse, you couldn’t even flee to the safety of your home or anywhere similar, because there is a match tonight and you’re needed as a qualified first aid officer.

Which brings you to the current predicament; sitting ringside and attempting to avoid the gazes of the three boxers seated on the side adjacent. Try as you might, it’s actually a struggle to keep your eyes on the current match. It’s a rookie night, and you feel extra bad since one of the people in the ring is actually a close friend.

Though, perhaps you should demote Jungkook from ‘close friend’ status considering he is the reason you started working here and subsequently, had the opportunity to stumble upon a certain scenario this morning. Were it not for him and his stupid, pleading puppy eyes, you wouldn’t have a particular embarrassing image burned into the back of your eyelids.

You know that despite his rookie status, Jungkook is quite a naturally talented boxer. Perhaps that is part of the reason that your brain thinks it’s okay to let your eyes stray from the match instead of watching attentively as you’re expected to. The subconscious certainty that Jungkook can handle himself seems to be your undoing, because in a moment of inattentiveness your eyes manage to reach the area you’d been trying so hard for them to avoid.

As you’d both feared and expected, they are in fact already looking at you. Well, one of the three. It is the piercing gaze of the club's current lightweight champion, Min Yoongi, that bores a hole into you right now. The two accomplices to his side aren't joining him in drilling their eyes into you across the room for now, instead leaning into each other as though they're whispering amongst themselves.

There's something about Yoongi's eyes, dark and piercing, that seem to always root you in place no matter where you are. His expression, as it usually tends to be, is unreadable. It's a certain kind of neutrality that graces his features, thin enough that you can tell there is something behind it but too opaque for you to be able to discern exactly what.

You don't even realise you're trapped in his gaze until the sounding of the bell snaps you out of the spell that seemed to be cast over you. Your head whips back around and you see the referee signalling the end of the bout, and just beyond him Jungkook is standing slightly bent over as he offers a hand to his opponent on the canvas. To your alarm, it is only now that you notice the blood dribbling down the man’s face. The reasonable crowd that has gathered is still cheering (Jungkook was quick to rise as one of the fan favourites) and it’s a wonder you can hear the referee’s call above the ruckus.

“Medic!”

That’s your cue.

x – x – x

“You look kind of on edge, man. Are you alright?”

You’re almost too busy staring into your coffee in a borderline dissociative state to hear Jungkook as he calls for your attention. It has to be about the thirteenth time in the past half hour, but you can’t find the energy to be ashamed about it. Mostly because all of your shame and embarrassment are focused on other areas right now.

It had happened again.

Is it just your luck? You don’t know whether to dub it as rotten luck, because you feel it would be a bit of an insult to the boxers you’d once more found in a suggestive situation. But considering it good luck feels kind of sleazy, because although you’re embarrassed as hell, all things considered what you walked in on wasn’t a bad view—

No, that thought is stopping there. Any further and you’ll only incriminate yourself and you’ll have to dose yourself with another fresh shot of shame.

Realising that you still haven’t answered the concerned-looking boy sprawled in the chair to your side, you offer him a non-committal grunt. It’s the best you can do while you take another moment to form actual coherent thought.

“I’ve never been better,” you say, and immediately Jungkook lets loose an abrupt snort.

“You look like shit, so don’t bother trying to lie. Are you having trouble sleeping again or something?”

You survey him for a moment, touched that he remembers the insomnia that had ailed you for a few months a while back. “Actually, I’ve been sleeping pretty good the past few months.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, making you squint at him in question. “Oh, I’ll bet you have, considering the things you were saying in your sleep last time I stayed over.”

You simply look at him, wondering whether he’s going to be an ass and continue. You don’t have to wait long for an answer.

“You were all like, ‘nngh, Namjoon,’ and ‘oh, Yoongi’, and then you said something about Hoseok too but I can’t quite remember, probably because it was so x-rated that my poor baby brain banished it from my memory—”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off, gripping the plastic spoon that came with your drink painfully tight. “Shut up.”

This is most definitely not the conversation to be having in the café barely a block away from the boxing gym where the two of you frequent, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to get the hint. Actually, you’re pretty sure he got the hint and he just doesn’t care enough to heed it.

“You really ought to do something about that crush of yours, bro. There’s three of them, so there’s three times the misery if you sit on your ass instead of—”

“Jungkook,” you attempt to warn him again, glaring slightly this time. You’ve scooped some of the whipped cream off of his plate of pancakes and hold the tip of the spoon back, threatening to fling it at him should he keep talking.

“—doing something, you know? I’ve seen them practically undress you with their eyes enough times by now that I could fill out a diary with all the incidents I’ve witnessed. Plus, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how often they ‘hurt’ themselves as an excuse to see you? I really don’t think you have much to lose, especially with an ass like yours—well, it’s nothing like the cake I’m serving, but still, it deserves some praise—ACK!”

Ah, so he has chosen death.

You discard the now-empty spoon onto a napkin, taking a long sip of your drink. It seems Jungkook has engaged his ape brain more today than usual as instead of wiping the cream off his face like any normal human would, he’s attempting to reach it with his tongue. His chances aren’t good, to be honest; though you reckon your mutual friend Jimin would be able to get it from that distance. Dude has a tongue like a lizard.

“You have Seven Days,” you tell him, struggling not to let a smile through as the amateur boxer whines, unable to reach the cream.

“You have seven days,” he grumbles sulkily, reaching with a begrudging hand for a napkin. “Do something or I’ll expose your ass.”

You roll your eyes, ninety-nine percent sure that he’s kidding.

…

That other one percent worries you a bit though.

x – x – x

You take back what you decided earlier— something is definitely wrong with your luck.

“And how did you hurt your knee again?”

“I tripped on the stairs.”

Jung Hoseok, the club’s current star welterweight boxer, sits before you in your little medical office. There aren’t any matches on today, but you’re on shift because the club members are doing some of the more rigorous training; there is an important few matches coming up for a few members, and they all want to be as prepared as possible. As tends to be the occupational hazard, training can often lead to injuries that need to be immediately attended to.

You can’t say, though, that this is the type you were expecting when you rocked up today.

Hoseok is beaming at you, all sincerity and sparkles. There’s a slight bit of dark regrowth in his hair that catches your eye as you survey him, the crimson ends sticking to his forehead lightly from sweat. He looks every bit earnest and honest as he sits in front of you, but you can’t help but suspect him just slightly.

Because you’re not sure any of the club members have ever made their way to your office for a graze that wouldn’t even phase a kindergartener.

“Well,” you say, trying to ignore what Jungkook had said barely a day or two ago that floats back into your head now. “The good news is, it’s not fatal.”

Hoseok lets out a great, dramatic huff in relief. “Oh, thank god. I was so scared this might have been the end.”

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how often they ‘hurt’ themselves as an excuse to see you?’

Is that what this is? An excuse to see you? A look spared for the man before you leads you to conclude: probably not. He’s a little too radiant to be seeking out lil’ ol’ you.

“Not this time,” you say, rummaging through your small box of mismatched bandages. Finding what you’re looking for, you turn back around and begin preparing it to place it on Hoseok’s knee. “You live to see another day.”

Hoseok shifts like he’s about to say something in response, but cuts himself off with a surprised laugh when he sees the band-aid you put on him. “Wh—you have Minions band-aids?!”

“I reserve them for special patients,” you say before you can stop yourself, promptly clamping your mouth shut a little too late. Your cheeks… you just hope the heat gathering there isn’t obvious.

Something shifts in Hoseok’s gaze as he surveys you for a moment, before hopping from the bed, testing his knee out like he’d sprained it instead of scratching it. The look is gone before you can fully decipher it and he’s back to grinning brightly once more.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll have to come back often. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.” Hoseok’s smile adopts a slightly cheeky edge as he makes his way to the door, lifting two fingers to his temple in a lazy salute. “See you later, doc!”

Then he’s gone before you can return the farewell, door closing definitively behind him and leaving the room in silence.

Are you going crazy, or did Hoseok— one of the three boxers you’ve happened to walk in on twice now—just return your light flirting?

… God, you hope it wasn’t because of the minion band-aid.

x – x – x

You wish that visit had been an isolated incident, but you had a repeat of it at least twice a week. Each time Hoseok would rock up grinning at your door with some other minor injury, all but demanding a minion band-aid for his troubles. You gave it to him, of course, but you still hope he doesn’t remember you as the minion band-aids guy.

Surprisingly enough, it isn’t only Hoseok that has been cropping up more often in your day-to-day. You’ve had a few surprise encounters with Yoongi, who lately has taken to giving you a sly, unreadable look before turning away, leaving you in your own confusion. Sometimes you’ll get carried away watching him or one of the other boxers practice, and before you know it he has caught you staring red-handed and you’re forced to flee the room to escape the smug, intrigued look that slips into his eyes.

It’s after such an occasion that you find yourself in the main locker room, attempting to multitask by looking for a box of first aid supplies hidden in the top shelves and giving your face a chance to cool down. It’s taken you so long to even find the damn box that your embarrassment has all but evaporated by now. By the time your eyes lock onto the scuffed white box peeking over the edge of the highest shelf in the corner of the room, you’re more than ready to snatch it down and escape back to the comfort of your dingy little office.

Of course, it couldn’t ever be so easy for you. Not given your recent string of poor luck.

You don’t consider your height to be remarkably anything, and normally you don’t have that much trouble reaching the cookie jar on the top shelf in your apartment but for some reason the shelves in this building are built to cater to giants, and try as you might you simply cannot reach. You’re literally about to abandon the last of your dignity and attempt jumping for it, when there is a light scuff on the floor from behind you and then a firm warmth pressing into your back.

In all honesty, your brain short-circuits. For a second you think you might have even blacked out, because it takes at least three seconds for you to realise what is happening, and by that time the figure has already retreated back from your form.

Somewhat dazed, you turn around to see one Kim Namjoon, the clubs leading middleweight champion and the third and final member of those racy scenarios you happened to walk in on oh-so long ago. In his hands is the box you’d been struggling so much to reach, and on his face is a look that somehow blends sheepishness and amusement into one attractive cocktail on his features.

“Here you go,” he says, and for a shamefully long moment all you can do is stand and soak in the lovely timbre of his voice. By the time you snap out of it, a small smile has begun to curl on his lips. You pointedly avoid looking at the dimples that are beginning to show as a result.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you say, trying to make it as natural as possible as you reach and take the box from his hold. “Whoever put it up there seems to have a vendetta against me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he says, and there’s suddenly something a little secretive about the way he’s smiling. It makes you suspicious, and once more the words Jungkook prattled into your ear a week or so ago come rattling back into your brain.

Is this something similar to what Hoseok had done? Did Namjoon put the box on a higher shelf?

“Are you calling me short?” For some reason, that’s what comes out of your mouth. There is a slight disconnect from what you said and what Namjoon had said previously, but he seems to make the connection. He tilts his head back and a rich laugh tumbles forth. It sounds nicer than you wish to admit to yourself.

“Never,” he finally answers, grinning. “Though, feel free to come get me next time you lose against a shelf.”

Your mouth drops open in affront, but he makes a departure too quick for you to respond. His laughter echoes down the halls and you’re left reeling in your spot.

This isn’t what you expected to happen after walking in on a few intimate situations. In fact, this is quite the opposite.

What is happening?

x – x – x

As the weeks go by, there are several big nights and several big matches. Hoseok and Yoongi, among a few others from the gym, emerge victorious. At this point you’re not too ashamed to say that you spent the entirety of their matches watching the way their muscles rippled as they dodged, swung and wove around the ring. If the last shred of dignity still clinging to you had disappeared, then you probably would have drooled like a dog.

The nights tend to go by weight classes, and the next upcoming night is to showcase the middleweight boxers. While Jungkook classifies for the class, as one of the newer recruits he isn’t the first choice for the match—much to his dismay.

It is approximately a week before this big match, in which Namjoon, one of the three men who live in your head rent-free these days, is participating, that you’re woken from your sleep and called into the gym.

It’s your night off, actually, so for you to be called in there must have been a pretty serious injury. You’re proven right when you enter the building and walk into the main room.

Before you can even assess the scene, Yoongi spots you and darts on over. He has a look on his face that you don’t think he’s ever sported before, and it fills you with a feeling of dread. It seems an appropriate feeling, considering what you see when you advance further into the room, towed by the frantic blonde who’d fetched you.

“Holy shit, what the hell happened?!” You dart forward, Yoongi’s grip slipping from your wrist as you move out of his reach.

Namjoon is seated on the floor in a squat, cradling his left hand to his chest. A grimace twists his features, eyes glistening but face clear of tears.

To your complete and utter surprise, the familiar tenor of Jungkook’s voice reaches your ears. You didn’t know he had stayed behind to practice tonight.

“We were leaving after practicing a bit later than normal, and some assholes drove past and picked a fight. I think—I think they were members from one of the rival clubs on the other side of the city but it was kind of dark and I didn’t get a good look.”

Your brows shoot up—that’s risky behaviour on their part, if it was actually members of a rival club that did this. Judges of this particular tournament don’t look kindly on foul play.

It would make sense if it’s true, though; a lot of local clubs tend to have boxers in the middleweight range, and Namjoon has emerged from enough matches victorious that he’s actually quite a threat.

“Let me see,” you say, holding your hands out to Namjoon for him to rest his injured one in your hold. “Jungkook, go get the big tin box with the red cross from my office. Make sure it’s the one with antiseptic and bandages.”

You don’t even need to check he’s listened, because you can hear the frantic, obedient pattering of his feet fading away in the distance as you unwrap the blood-drenched towel from the hand in your hold. Namjoon’s busted up limb takes all of your attention the second you lay eyes on it properly, your stomach filling with an unpleasant, nameless cocktail of sensations.

“Holy shit,” you say, unable to contain your wince. “Tell me you didn’t get this from fighting them bare-knuckle.”

Namjoon has enough capacity for humour right now that he lets out a little huff. Yoongi fills you in before Namjoon has a chance.

“No, though I almost did.” His expression is dark, the heat of his anger reaching you even when it’s not directed your way. “They were probably drinking before coming here, since they had a few bottles they threw into the mix.”

That explains the gashes you’re seeing on Namjoon’s palm— it seems he caught one of the bottles, though you’re not sure whether it was already broken or whether it broke on impact. Thankfully, from what you can see, the gashes and lacerations aren’t too deep and shouldn’t cause lasting damage, but they’ll definitely take a while to heal, and one or two of them look like they will need stitches.

“Alright,” you begin, sighing softly. “I’ll do what I can to fix this up for now, but you’re going to have to go to the ER, because some of these will need stitches…”

You look up, reading the expressions of everyone in attendance and knowing that they have all reached the same conclusion regarding Namjoon’s immediate fate as a boxer.

“Sorry, Namjoon,” you start, watching his features crumble ever so slightly into a look of resignation. “This isn’t going to heal in time for next week, and you definitely won’t be able to train for a while.”

It’s just as you announce that, that Jungkook returns with your box of first-aid goodies. Hoseok, who has remained surprisingly silent the whole time this conversation has gone on, takes the box from his hold and delivers it next to you. Surprising all of you, Namjoon is quick to look up and pin Jungkook with a grin.

“Well, since I can’t participate—how do you feel about making your Big Boy Boxing Debut, Jungkookie?”

Your friend is rooted to the spot in shock for a solid few moments, before he snaps out of it and an excited if slightly nervous expression filters onto his face.

“I will defend your honour, Namjoon!” he declares, saluting stupidly. “Count on me!”

Cheesy of him, but you can’t help the smile that tugs your lips. You just hope it’s not too late-notice for him, and that Namjoon’s injuries really aren’t that serious, as you surmise.

x – x – x

The week passes quicker than you anticipate, and before you know it, it’s the night of the big match—Jungkook’s first big match, that is. Namjoon had done his best over the days to coach Jungkook on the particular fighting styles of the opponents he normally faces, and to everyone’s pleasant surprise, Jungkook has picked it all up with ease.

You’re more surprised to say that you’re not even that nervous, as you sit waiting for the match to begin. Jungkook stands in one corner, his opponent from one of the more renowned rival gyms in the other. You prepare to be on standby in case either boxer is injured enough to need aid, but cross your fingers that if anything at least Jungkook will be alright.

In the blink of an eye, the match begins and the first bout kicks off. Jungkook’s opponent is slightly stockier, likely pushing the upper limits of the weight class, and is the first to make an offensive move. The familiar sound of cushioned gloves making impact rings in the air and you find yourself tensing in your seat as you watch the two interchange blows.

It’s pretty much neck-and-neck for a majority of the bouts. Some of them go quick, and others seem to consist of the longest three minutes of your life. Still, the match goes on, and the night is filled with the siren song of the crowd and the ring of the bell.

After a night of close-call bouts and baited breath, Jungkook finally emerges victorious.

Ever the fan favourite, the crowd that has amassed erupt into cheers as the referee declares the end of the final bout and Jungkook is held up as the victor. With the match decided, the club members that had been watching ringside burst up and swarm around the young boxer who brought pride to the gym on his very first big match. The three boxers that usually occupy your thoughts wriggle their way up there too, and it’s Hoseok’s bright tone that pierces the ruckus of the crowd.

“Drinks at ours to celebrate our victor, Jungkookie!” he caws, rubbing Jungkook on the back in something akin to pride. “Members of King Hit Gym, we better see you all there!”

You mightn’t be a technical member, but the way you suddenly feel three sets of eyes on you tells you that you’re still more than invited.

x – x – x

It’s three hours since the end of the match, and you’re more than a little tipsy.

You can safely say that you haven’t ever been to the house where Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi live, but you’re nothing short of impressed. It’s a three-storey townhouse, with three rooms— presumably one for each of them, though from what you’d glimpsed on the way to the bathroom earlier only one of them appears regularly lived in.

It didn’t take you long to ponder exactly why, considering the things you’ve accidentally witnessed in the past month.

Most of your time tonight was spent celebrating with Jungkook as he made the rounds and received congratulations from the rest of the club members. Music thrums through the building, bass vibrating pleasantly through your chest every time you pass the expensive speakers in the living room.

You’ve paced yourself well, all things considered. All you had to do to avoid an early night ending in blackout drunkenness was steer clear of Jungkook whenever he made his way by the kitchen to refill— he’d learnt his mixing skills from Jimin, a verified alcoholic back in the day who spent his time in university trying to throw together his own signature cocktail with the same alcohol percentage as absinthe.

So you’re relatively proud of yourself to only be a little over tipsy at this point in the night. You can’t really say the same for the rest of the club members, though— even Jungkook has reached a point where he is stumbling and giggling. Which, of course, led to the event that splattered drink all over your shirt.

You’re wandering up the stairs now, mind occupied with everything but what you’re doing as you absentmindedly seek the bathroom to clean your shirt. You haven’t seen any of the homeowners in a while, actually, which is kind of disappointing because you’re really longing for some eye candy right about now. They disappeared about ten minutes ago, and you figured it was just to socialise or maybe grab more snacks but you haven’t paid it much thought since then, and now you’re realising they hadn’t returned to the party yet.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you pause for a moment to try and recall which room is the bathroom. There’s two of them, you remember being told, one ensuite and a main bathroom. There was also a third one on the first floor, but that was too far for you to attempt reaching it. Unable to remember which door is which, you simply decide to wing it and march on forward towards the first door to enter your line of sight. You’re pretty stable, but your head is kind of fuzzy, so your hand hovers by the wall as you walk just in case you stumble.

Upon reaching the door in question, it takes you about a second and a half to realise the room you have reached is not the one you want, and another second for the shock to reach you.

Because, for the third time in a month, you have walked in on something you shouldn’t have.

Except this time, you can’t seem to pull yourself away as fast as you should.

It’s Hoseok and Namjoon tangled before you this time, in a position much more intimate than the last you’d seen. Their lips are locked, Hoseok straddling one of Namjoon’s thighs with one hand tangled in inky locks and the other rubbing over his crotch, where a prominent bulge makes itself known even to your eyes. Just when you remember that you should really be on your way, their lips break apart and Namjoon’s head tilts back, a sinful, velvet moan climbing from his throat as Hoseok leans to pepper it with kisses. It’s mesmerising, and you forget you’re even there as you watch the red-haired man’s hand climb up Namjoon’s stomach and then slip beneath the waistband of his jeans.

You come back to yourself when you feel a familiar tightness in your own pants and a throb between your legs— of course, you’re hard. You’re too hazy-brained to even be ashamed of it right now. It does pierce through the fog, though, that you’re intruding on something you’re not meant to see. Like you’re trying to move limbs filled with lead, you start to drag your feet and turn around.

You barely get a step in before you’re face to face with someone strikingly familiar, and your heart drops in your chest before kicking back into motion at double speed.

“You always seem to enjoy watching, don’t you?” Yoongi’s question catches you off guard and puts you on the spot— before you can panic, though, his lips curl in a kittenish smile. “It’s alright, we already know you do, baby boy.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, stomach flipping giddily. Your eyes track it with surprising clarity as Yoongi’s hand— strong and sculpted and deliciously vascular, as you’d admired many times before— rises to caress your cheek, and he leans forward until his lips brush the sensitive skin of your earlobe.

“Why don’t you join us, this time?”

You find yourself nodding before you even realise it, but it’s definitely a decision you would make again any other day.

You feel Yoongi smile against your ear, and then he is pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and pulling back. That same strong hand winds around your wrist and you’re tugged into the room, the door shutting behind you. The two on the bed barely bat an eye at the arrival of their third lover and an extra figure, merely smiling dazedly at the two of you.

“Baby boy is finally gonna join us?” Hoseok asks, eyes lidded and dark to match the tousled look of his hair and clothes. His words are slightly slurred but the keenness to his gaze tells you he is still very much aware of everything he does.

Yoongi hums in confirmation, coming up behind you to wind his arms lazily around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Mhmm. Don’t stop on our account— why don’t you give him a bit of a show to start, hm?”

Hoseok needs no further prompting, a grin all you glimpse before he is diving back to crash his lips into Namjoon’s, hand moving inside his pants and eliciting a deep, throaty groan. It makes your own cock throb in need, and almost as though he reads your mind, Yoongi's voice sounds in your ear once more.

“You already hard, baby boy? Like what you see?”

Something about the husky quality of the boxer’s voice makes a shudder roll down your spine, a light whine slipping from your throat. Yoongi presses soft kisses to the skin of your neck as you watch the two on the bed undress each other between heated kisses.

“Want me to touch you, baby boy?”

As though possessed, your head begins nodding before you even think to act on the urge. Yoongi requires no further prompting; he begins to kiss and suckle along the column of your neck while his hands move— one creeps up beneath your shirt to flick a thumb over your nipple, and the other slips down, down, down beneath the waistband of your pants and boxers, until that hand you admire so much is slipping around your cock and squeezing just enough to make you gasp out a moan.

Pleasure and desire wind together to mix with the tipsy haze in your mind, and you’re more than happy to surrender yourself to the current situation. Slowly, you’re urged over to the bed, eyes still locked on the pair occupied there as Yoongi’s hand works magic on your length. You don’t even bother attempting to stem the gasps and moans tumbling forth because you know at this point it would probably be futile.

Hoseok has now stripped Namjoon entirely and is making his way down his body with his mouth, pressing a kiss against every inch of golden skin he can reach. Namjoon is quite generously endowed, and you can’t tear your eyes away as Hoseok finally reaches the apex of his thighs and begins to lavish attention to Namjoon’s flushed cock.

You can feel Yoongi grinding lightly against you as he strokes your own aching member, the two of you observing the show before you with rapt attention. At some point you’re rid of your shirt and the air feels cool against your flushed skin, your upper body leaning back against Yoongi contentedly. The noises spilling from Namjoon’s throat are downright sinful as Hoseok’s mouth sinks down on him with practiced ease.

It’s almost too much for you, really. Almost sensory overload. You’re urged ever so slowly to the bed, and as you sit on the plush mattress you happily oblige as Yoongi begins to undo and remove the jeans that are now uncomfortably tight. Your boxers follow soon after and then you’re joining the other two in their nudity. As though sensing the change in plans, Hoseok pulls off of Namjoon’s cock with a ‘pop’, licking his lips and ignoring the whine in protest that Namjoon lets out. “In a minute, bubs.”

Yoongi leans over to the bedside table to retrieve lube and something else you soon realise to be condoms as he tosses them on the bed between him and Hoseok.

“Are you alright with this?”

You turn at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, eyes meeting his own— though heady and full of desire, they’re also determined. You don’t doubt that if you say no, he will stop things here.

“Yes,” you confirm, and you watch as a smile pulls over Yoongi’s face.

“Excellent. Now, lean forward, baby boy. This might be a little cold.”

Without question, you allow him to shift and bend your body as needed, knees digging into the plush bedding. Tilting your head up, you manage to meet the eyes of Namjoon, who is in a similar position to yourself, just in time for you to gasp at the sudden cold sensation at your ass.

You’d think by now you would be used to the feeling of lube— you’re immediately distracted from that though at the sensation of Yoongi’s finger beginning to toy around your asshole. You allow yourself to relax as much as possible, turning your attention to Namjoon and Hoseok and simply enjoying the sensations Yoongi is eliciting.

Namjoon’s hand raises, cupping your cheek and dragging down ever so gently. Hoseok catches the movement and lets out a coo, eyes boring into your own.

“Wanna kiss him, baby boy? Go ahead, he’s good at it.”

You don’t need to be told twice, and neither does Namjoon. You find Hoseok definitely isn’t wrong as Namjoon’s lips meet your own, the kiss quickly turning heated as his mouth moves against your own. He swallows down your moans as Yoongi’s fingers begin to stretch you slowly, one by one.

You lose so much time in the hypnotic motion of bodies against your own that before you know it there is a gentle yet firm hand against your shoulder pulling you back from the man before you.

“Ready, baby?”

You nod, and soon after hear the familiar tear of foil before the head of Yoongi’s cock is pressing against your hole. You take a deep breath in, allowing your eyes to flutter closed as he begins to press himself in and stretch you open bit by bit. The burn isn’t particularly painful tonight, and to be honest sometimes you’re partial to the sensation.

By the time Yoongi is fully seated within you, you’re almost panting, soft moans escaping unwittingly. Through the fog of pleasure currently addling your brain, you hear similar noises in front of you and realise Namjoon must be in a similar state. Unconsciously, your hand stretches out, seeking contact, and manages to entwine with the large, warm one you identify as Namjoon’s good hand.

As soon as Yoongi receives the green light from you, he begins to move. The sensations of him dragging against your walls are enough to almost drive you mad, especially at the slow pace he’s set. It isn’t long before he picks up though, and soon rough the slap of his hips against your ass is one of the many sinful noises echoing in the room, muffled by the loud music still booming beyond the bedroom walls.

“O-oh, fuck,” you moan, barely coherent enough to respond to Namjoon’s seeking lips. Absently, you hear Yoongi’s soft groans and low murmured praises, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Good boy,” he all but purrs, hand caressing down your spine before finding purchase at your hips.

Time blurs and you’re wound so tight that it isn’t long before you feel yourself approaching that edge, your hand lowering to begin stroking your own cock again in an effort to reach your high faster. It’s one deep stroke that hits you in all the right places that is your undoing, and with a cry you’re cumming hard, spots appearing behind your eyes.

The sudden tightness around his cock has Yoongi stilling, a low, drawn out groan sounding from his throat as he joins you in your high, throbbing inside you. Your arms are a little too weak to continue holding you, but he seems to be in tune enough that he notices and his own slip around you, easing you into his embrace as he adjusts on the mattress and hums into your skin.

Namjoon and Hoseok aren’t far behind you, the two of them reaching their own end not long after. Namjoon flops against the bed, spent and Hoseok hops up to retrieve a bin and some wipes to clean up a bit before he too flops across the mattress, smacking Namjoon’s ass as he does and eliciting a brief whine in protest.

“Well fuck,” you hum, staring absently at the ceiling. Yoongi snorts, pulling you closer, and like they all share a hive mind you’re very suddenly in the middle of a cuddle pile as the other two join in.

“Beats just watching, doesn’t it?” One of them queries, probably Hoseok— you’re too tired to really discern it.

“Mhm,” you respond, basking in content. “Four’s company, I suppose.”

There are a few hums of agreement, and then comfortable silence falls over the room. You find yourself smiling as you sink into the most content sleep you’ve had in a while, in the arms of the three boxers who have nestled their way into your heart one by one

#bts smut #bts fic #btsghostie #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #hoseok smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x male reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x male reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok x male reader #bts au #rapline fic #rapline smut #reader insert #my work #my writing #bts fanfic

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mmvalentine · 3 years

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Fifty-Six | Feysand

Ahhh it's time!! It’s @asteria-of-mars’s birthday and I have cooked up 7k words of smut for the occasion because she’s the light of my life. Posting all 3 parts today because it's a special occasion, this is part one and here's part 2 and part 3!

This is my canon divergence of ACOMAF post ch 55 because SJM really said “it could take Rhys a month to get used to the bond” and then ??sent them all off to war???? Based an old request Liz sent me for “fresh mating bond rhys”. It’s… it’s just smut. That's it that's the whole thing.

Chapter 1: Rhys in the morning

Rhys and Feyre returned to the town house, and to real life. Feyre hadn’t wanted to leave the cabin, could quite happily have stayed there for the rest of their natural lives, actually, but then again, by this point Velaris was as much a part of her as Rhys was and she would not abandon it.

So, home then, with the entirely agreeable compromise of moving into Rhys’s bedroom.

“You’ll… you’ll want your own space, though?” she had asked him, remembering how Tamlin had always kept his own room. Rhys had stared at her, bewildered at the suggestion.

“From you? No. Never. Not unless you need it.” Feyre’s lips formed a shy smile, and she shook her head. “Good,” said Rhys. “Because I already had all your stuff shifted into my room.”

When they got home, the inner circle had cleared out.

“Hello?” Rhys called. The empty house echoed it back to him. Feyre stood behind him, looping her arms around his waist and propping her chin on his shoulder. He lowered his mind shields for her, as he reached out to the others.

Hey where’d everyone go? he sent out.

We just thought you’d like some… privacy, Mor’s voice floated back.

Ain’t no way I’m hanging around there while you two are still honey-mooning, came Cassian.

You do know we have our own houses, Amren said.

Feyre snorted. “Since when?” she said out loud.

Well, Rhys said, you’re all welcome to come over for breakfast tomorrow. We haven’t seen you all week.

He turned around in Feyre’s arms.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked.

“Sure I’m sure,” Rhys said, sliding her wrists around his neck and stroking over her hips. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well,” Feyre replied. Rhys started walking her backward while he moved the tip of his nose against the side of her neck. “We have just been mated,” she pointed out. Her back hit the side of the stair case, harder than might have strictly been necessary.

“Yeah, so?” Rhys asked, pressing his thigh between her legs and lifting her up against the wooden panels.

“They’re our family,” Rhys replied, hands roving over her backside as she fumbled with the fastening of his trousers. “Don’t you want to see them?”

“So,” Feyre gasped, as his tongue hit her throat and his hands pushed her dress up her thighs. “Is it really the best time to have visitors?”

“Well yes,” Feyre ground out, while Rhys’s hand slid between her legs. “But we might not be in the best… state.”

“And what state is that?” Rhys asked, lifting her wrists above her head and pressing her further back with his body.

Feyre just looked pointedly down where his hard cock was straining out of the top of his open pants. Rhys looked too.

“Oh this?” He pulled it free and then sank straight into Feyre without any more preamble. They both groaned at the sensation. Rhys panted for a second. “We’ll just have to get it out of our system before they get here.” And then he proceeded to fuck her against the wall with her legs around his hips and her hands holding onto the stair case balusters.

Rhys and Feyre spent the rest of the day in their bedroom. Almost the rest of the day- they also spent some time on the staircase because after the wall they tried to go upstairs but Feyre was walking in front of Rhys and every time she took step her ass swayed in Rhys’s face. He made it nearly ten steps before he was grabbing at her hips, her hands and knees hit carpeted stairs, and he had one hand on the bannister and the other in her hair as he pounded her from behind.

When they finally got to the bedroom, Feyre looked around and saw that Rhys had indeed moved all her things in. She thought it might look like she was visiting, or might crowd his space. But his things had been rearranged too, so it didn’t look like his old room, and nothing looked out of place here. It looked… right.

“Do you like it?” Rhys said behind her. He scooped her hair off her neck and draped it over one shoulder, so he could kiss the bare skin on the other side.

“Yes,” she answered, smiling. “It looks like… ours.”

Rhys’s fingers deftly pulled apart the fastenings of her dress as she stared around herself, and when she turned to him it pooled at her feet. Rhys’s pupils blew out, and a growl rolled from his throat. His hands were everywhere, touching every square inch of her skin.

“I like the sounds of that,” he said roughly. “Now why don’t we go see if anything’s changed on our bed, too?”

The next morning, Rhys woke Feyre with his tongue between her legs.

Feyre was sleeping a dreamless sleep, which had been the case since she had started sleeping next to Rhys. No nightmares, no nothing. Just a deep and restful darkness that reminded her of her mate and kept her safe all night.

And so she tumbled from a peaceful slumber and woke on the edge of climax, limbs heavy and warm from bed. The hot skin of Rhys’s hands was stroking her belly, contradictingly soothing above his wicked tongue. He was flicking back and forth over Feyre’s clit, eyes watching her the whole time.

Morning, lover, he murmured in her mind.

Feyre was completely beyond coherent thought, both not awake enough and too aroused to answer.

Sleep well? he asked.

“Mmmm,” was all she could muster. Rhys slid two fingers inside her, and her hips arced up off the bed.

I just thought, Rhys said, tongue never slowing, that maybe you should come first thing in the morning. His fingers curled, rubbing against that spot inside her and indeed Feyre’s orgasm was dancing right in front of her eyes.

So are you going to do it? He asked her, twisting his wrist. Are you going to wake up and come on my tongue?

“Yes,” Feyre breathed.

Good girl. Do it now, come for me.

It was so, so easy. As soon as the words hit her mind, her body responded and her climax licked up her spine in a rush. She moaned her mate’s name and then he was moving up, and sliding into into her before she could come down.

“Fuck Feyre,” Rhys groaned. She barely heard it, was already coming again as he fucked her, unhurried and shivering at the way her orgasm squeezed around his cock. He pressed wet, lazy kisses into her throat and the rhythm of his hips was slow and rolling.

“Gods you feel like heaven,” he murmured. “Could do this all day long. Could keep you here in this bed forever.”

“Not forever,” Feyre giggled breathlessly. “We’ve got breakfast guests.”

“They can wait,” Rhys said. And then he put his teeth on her nipple and hooked her leg over his elbow, and she didn’t care about visitors anymore. Rhys didn’t speed up but at this angle he was hitting so deep it knocked the breath from her with every stroke. And Feyre was more than willing to put away the rest of the world for this Rhysand, for the languid and unrushed Rhysand, for the Rhysand who had nothing on his mind but his mate.

Feyre laced her fingers together behind Rhys’s neck, and pulled his mouth to hers. His hand hit the bedhead, and she reached for his wings when his hips started stuttering. Stroked her fingers along the underside in time with the way they moved, until he was coming with his teeth in her neck.

Rhys shuddered over her, and her knees gripped his ribcage while his hipbones bruised her. He collapsed next to her, and lay there with his eyes closed and his lips moving at her temple.

“Good morning,” she returned at last. Rhys chuckled.

“It is a good morning,” he said. He moved his hand to skim up and down her side. Made circles over her hip, smoothed the flat of his hand over her backside, curved his fingers to reach around between her legs.

“Mmm,” Feyre sighed. Rhys kissed her, and trailed his fingers over her pussy from behind. “But seriously,” she said against his lips. “You invited people around.”

“What people?” Rhys asked absently, putting his mouth on her shoulder and sucking to leave a mark.

“Your dear family, remember?”

Rhys moved along her collarbone, leaving another mark. “Our family, dearest.”

“They’re yours before eight in the morning,” Feyre said, arching her back as Rhys pulled a third bruise up over her heart.

“It’s half past nine,” Rhys murmured, and Feyre sat up suddenly.

“It’s what?! Rhys, we were supposed to be downstairs a half hour ago!” She threw back the covers and walked cross the room looking for clothes.

“I know,” Rhys said, leaning back against the headboard. “But you looked so mouth-watering I decided I didn’t need breakfast.”

“Well you have to show up for the people you asked here,” Feyre hissed, grabbing one of Rhys’s sweaters from an armchair and pulling it on. Rhys swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Gods you look sexy wearing my clothes,” he said, and tugged her back so she was standing between his legs.

“Rhys,” she said.

“Feyre,” he mimicked. She dumped a shirt on his head.

“Get dressed. Now.”

Rhys let go of her. Reluctantly.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “It’s not like they need to be shown in or anything, they practically live here.” Feyre ignored him.

“Now are you sure you’re going to be okay around everyone?”

“What? Yes of course,” Rhys said.

“I’ve been told the mating bond can be quite… powerful.”

“Yes but I’m hardly going to be jealous of my own brothers,” Rhys said, buttoning his shirt. He stood up and tried to kiss the back of Feyre’s neck while she bundled her hair up. She spun and shoved black fabric into his arms.

“Pants,” she instructed, and Rhys rolled his eyes.

“Love, I have known these people for centuries, they’re not going to wait for us to start eating. And I’m pretty sure I can handle a little fresh mating bond.” He put his boots on after his trousers, and glanced in the mirror as he ran his hand through his hair.

“Okay,” Feyre said. “Let’s go then.”

“Just a second,” Rhys mumbled. “I just have to fix…”

“Your hair is fine, we’re going down.”

Rhys just snickered as he let his mate lead him downstairs.

****

Happy birthday honey, we're only just warming up.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems

#feysand #feysand fics #acotar #liz's birthday present #smut #oh so much smut #three chapters of straight smut #you have been warned

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Note

Hello! I love your writing and I may have a prompt, if it strikes your fancy. I'm aware it might not be entirely lore-friendly a request, but I love relationship shenanigans in Obey Me, so I got to ask: how do you think Luci, Diavolo, Satan and Beel would help their anxious SO adjust when MC begins demonstrating mad prowess in witchcraft right after they first spend the night together? Sex, power and pacts seem to go hand-in-hand in related media, but no one really planned for it in their case!

Awww thankie and sorry for the long wait! I’m glad you like my writing! I hope you like this! It gave me big thirst lmaooo

Lucifer

Mmmm you smell of him in the morning. He positively oozes from your every pore. Rich and spicy, like amber and freshly turned earth.

Good. Let it be known to all that you were claimed. Thoroughly.

He put his daily routine on hold for you this morning. He was weak to your pouting.

He’ll stay in bed for a little bit to indulge you. But duty calls and work waits for no demon

Neither of you really pay attention to how hard you are clinging to him when he tries to extract himself to get dressed

You both just kind of chalk it up to neither of you want to part

The day goes on as usual for him, meetings, paperwork, meetings, punishing Mammon, meetings

But the whole time something was nagging at him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. He just felt like he forgot something important

But that’s impossible-

The wall explodes out behind him cutting Lucifer off mid-sentence. The rubble and great ball of flames miss him and Diavolo by mere inches only because of the latter’s quick reflexes. “Are you alright my friend?” Diavolo asks golden eyes alight with surprise. Lucifer could feel the prince’s defensive magic prickling his skin in response to the pungent magic wafting out of the hole.

“Of course-” Lucifer steps back, straightening his jacket’s lapels, the near-miss ruffles his feathers. Both men step closer to the hole. His hackles raise. The power emanating from the crater was far too familiar. Someone dares to use his magical signatures without permission. Snarling into the abyss he marches forward. He ignores Diavolo’s calls to wait and strides through the hole. His wings flare up from his back along with his temper. He walks through each wave of magic that washes over him. With each destroyed wall he steps through more and more of his demonic form comes forth till he is more beast than man. Strolling through the final hole he stops. His red eyes sweep across the scene in front of him. As the seconds' tick by his mood morphs from rage to shock, then to a sense of blinding pride.

“Well-” He crosses his arms and smirks. He turns his gaze to the epicenter of the damage.

“Luci, I am so so sorry.” You mutter aghast behind your fingers. “I-I don’t know what happened.” You were never the best student in any of the practical classes. The teachers made exceptions for you and your lack of magical prowess. In this class, the teacher always paired you up with Solomon or Luke so they could help you prepare the necessary spells and runes. But you felt so different today, stronger and sharper. Damn near unstoppable even. Just the thought of someone else doing your work made something deep inside you seethe. You didn’t need help, you’ve seen and heard the incantations a thousand times before- it wouldn’t hurt to try…Well, let’s rephrase that, it didn’t hurt you to try.

The classroom was totaled. Dust, rubble, and burning pages all float around you like a post-apocalyptic snowstorm. Soot from your uncontrolled spell blacked your clothes and skin, next to you Solomon stands rigid in shock white brows disappearing into his hairline. Quietly you lick your thumb and forefinger and put out the small blue flame singeing his bangs. “Thanks.” He spits out around a mouthful of ash and grit.

Lucifer coughs to draw all eyes back to him. He takes inventory of the room, making sure all the other students scattered about were still breathing. Satisfied he beckons to you with a finger. “Come.” You jump into motion, scrambling up and over the rubble to grab his outstretched hand.

“Lucifer.” He cuts you off.

“Not here,” He smiles warmly rubbing at some soot staining the tip of your nose. “Come let’s get you cleaned up.”

_____________

“Should I be worried?” You ask, stepping out of Lucifer’s private showers wrapped in one of his sinfully soft towels. “I’m not going to blow stuff up on a whim now, right?” You plop down on his bedroom’s couch. Lucifer hums noncommittally by his liquor cabinet.

“I doubt it. How do you feel?” He takes a seat beside you handing you a glass and grabbing your legs to drape them over his. You take a swig from the glass, the heat of the liquor getting rid of the lingering shock from class. How did you feel?

Your bones hum with some unknown energy and there was a fire coursing through your veins. “I feel like I could take on the world. Like I dominate half of the Devildom.” Lucifer’s smile was nothing short of smug.

“Good.” He sips his drink.

“Good?” You lean forward expectantly.

Lucifer strokes your cheek coming in to inhale your fresh scent. The commingling of his and your own was beyond arousing. “There is more than one way to seal and strengthen a pact, my beloved.” He pulls you into a chastened kiss, feeling your cheeks heat with a dawning realization of what he meant. “You have now given yourself to me in both body and soul. The- bonus perks were inevitable.” He parts from you, reaching for his glass.

“Will it go away?” You honestly didn’t know if you could handle any more curveballs down here.

Lucifer laughs swirling the dredges of his drink before downing it in one go. “Ideally no- but over time if it isn’t reinforced it will weaken and disappear on its own.”

“Reinforced?” The heat of your drink seems to dip lower down your body. Your demon scoffs giving you a knowing look.

He drags you onto his lap. “Are you truly satisfied with just a night with me αγαπούλα μου?” A gloved finger tugs at the hem of your towel. “If I had my way I would keep you full and drunk on my power for all eternity.” He captures you in a searing kiss draping you over the cushions of his couch, his eyes turning predatory. “Do not worry about the side effects.” He purrs caging you in. “We have all the time in the world to get you accustomed to them.”

Diavolo

He knew. This bitch knew before he ever got you in his bed-chamber. Just think of the entertainment value~

So when he sweeps you up into his quarters for the night day weekend, he just forgets to mention it to you

He is curious about how his magic will affect a human of celestial descent. Will it show up all at once? Or over a long period of time? He hopes that your blood doesn’t cancel out his claim on you

He watches you like a hawk for a while- and nothing…

Hmm. Perhaps it just didn’t take the first time? No matter, try-try-try again as the saying goes. He certainly doesn’t see you complaining

But as the week passes he slowly puts it on his backburner as his work begins to pile up again

You on the other hand are having a time. One day you are fine and dandy and the next you can read and write in languages you’ve never even heard of.

Then you started seeing some frankly crazy shit. Had the ghost at the house always been this active?

The last straw for you was accidentally freezing half of the house’s rose garden with a sneeze. To say you are panicked is an understatement

Frazzled you run to the only mage you could (kinda) trust

“It’s not funny!” You hiss frantically staring bewildered at your friend. Your look of panic just makes him laugh harder. “Stop seriously Solomon! Gods, what did I do?” You scrub at your face hard. If you made yet another freaking pact with a demon you were going to lose it. Seven idiots were enough for several lifetimes.

Solomon howls at this, drawing curious and rude looks from the surrounding tables of the tea house. You swat at his shoulder hissing like a cat. “Sorry- sorry” He hiccups. “Your turn of phrase was just so fitting.” He collects himself by taking a sip of his tea. “Tell me, what have you been doing of late?” He smirks around the rim of his cup.

You squint at him not getting it. His keen eyes drift down to land on the garden of purple and blue bruises littering your neck. You slap a hand over your hickeys. He smiles leaning over conspiratorially. “What’s it like to sleep with a God? The perks are amazing no?”

You shook your head. “I-what perks?”

“Oh~ Loverboy didn’t warn you of certain side-effects?” The mage leans back in his chair. He was going to have a great time today. ___________

Unbelievable. You march up the walkway to the palace, your mind absolutely reeling. Did he know about this? Of course, he did-how could he not! Did he just forget? No- Diavolo was many things, smart, cunning, conniving, but never forgetful. You knew him well and knew he had to be on the lookout for “side effects” as Solomon put it.

Fine, two can play at this game.

“Ah! Mio Giglio! How are you?” Dia glances up from his mountainous amount of paperwork when you throw open his office door. He rises in one fluid motion to scoop you up in a tight hug. Now that you know what to look for, you hone into the way he holds you. His large hands run down your back and sides possessively, he clings to you rubbing his bulking frame on you like a cat marking you. He leans in close to rub the bridge of his strong nose up and down your clavicle and neck. You feel his hot breath on your skin when he exhales. How had you not noticed this?

“Good, and you?” You smile into the fabric of his shirt. Carefully you wrap your arms around his solid waist. You hug him lightly so as to not give away your little surprise.

“Better with you here.” He chuckles stepping back to return to his desk. You follow closely behind waiting for the perfect time to strike. “What have you been up to?” He asks innocently, going to sit back down. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

You hum nonchalantly coming up behind him to rub at his tense shoulders. “Nothing much.” He nods closing his eyes as your fingers dig into sore muscles. “Usual school week, made some new friends...Went shopping with Asmo and Luke this morning. Bought you some treats, hidden from Barbatos of course.” You drop a quick peck on his cheek. Diavolo smiles sinking lower into his chair. He hopped it was something with lemon or orange, they were in season now. Barbatos had been on the warpath with his sugar and carb intake of late. “Then I had tea with Solomon and he filled me in on some very interesting facts.” You kiss his hairline.

“Mmmm?”

You pull away from his warmth to come around to straddle his lap while he is distracted. He jerks at your sudden weight on his lap but relaxes almost immediately. He opens a golden eye, not even realizing he had closed them. Your demeanor shifts when his gaze is fully set on you, all sweet innocence gone. A cheshire grin spreads across your face. “Funny you should ask if I’m feeling ok. I have been feeling a bit off of late.”

Diavolo tenses. “Are you well?” He tries to reach for you, his arms coming off the armrests of his desk chair. You strike like a viper, your small hands wrap and lock around his thick wrists pinning them to the chair. His eyes bulge in shock. You watch coyly as his biceps bulge under his clothes. He tries to break free for a few minutes before settling back. “I see-”

Leaning in you brush your lips across his ears, heart racing with excitement. “You forgot to mention quite a few things, Dia.” The low purr he emits shakes both of you.

“My apologies.” He admits. “You know I love a good show. Shame I missed it.” He throws you a rogue smile. “Forgive me?”

You slide closer until you rested chest to chest, legs wrapping around his to pin him down further. His purr drops down an octave. Locking eyes with him you remove a hand from his wrist daring him to move. He doesn’t. You move slowly and deliberately resting your hand on his strong neck. His reaction was instantaneous. His pupils dilate, and the gold of his irises turn molten. You start to feel his magic seep out, you match it, giddy with excitement that you could. “Only if you work for it.” You smirk.

Diavolo nods readily, licking at his dry lips in anticipation. He was more than ready to atone.

Satan

He is a good noodle and has the decency to tell you what will happen beforehand

It’s only polite to give you a heads up before he breaks your headboard

You both are curious about how it will affect you. He at least is excited to teach you some practical magic

Plus the idea of you pranking Lucifer with magic? Sublime.

He smells it blossoming under your skin while you sleep.

It’s sharp and minty with a smoky finish. Then the power hits him like a brick to the face. He is in awe.

It’s like an electrifying feedback loop that just energizes and excites him and you feel it too. He’ll lose himself in you and your body again, hyped up on the headiness of it all.

Once he has *cough* cleared his head *cough* he takes you out to try out your newly found powers. He has so many things he wants to teach you.

Satan kneels beside you nodding his head in approval at your chalk markings. Your lines weren’t exactly steady, he could see how your hand shook as you copied his paperwork but you followed it dutifully. He finds your nervousness adorable as if he would let anything bad happen to you. At his go-ahead, you get to your feet. Turning your palms down towards your summoning circle you recite your spell and watch in amazement as your runes glow bright green underneath you. In a flash of blinding lights and smoke, you sense the pull of the creature emerging from your rune work. Delighted you look down at your handy work.

“Congratulations my darling, exceptionally done.” He grins proudly from his perch by his bookshelf.

You bend down and pick up the little critter. “What is it?” It looked like a blob of flan but firmer. Its squishy form shivers in your palm when you poked it. Its body giving way under your gentle poke. It was dark green but lightened to an electric green at its base. It was surprisingly warm.

You feel Satan coming up behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. “It looks to be a lesser familiar, not bad for your first time summoning ever.” The jelly wiggles at his praise even though you couldn’t find any discernible features on its smooth little body. You turn it this way and that in your hand, even though it didn’t have eyes you could sense it was sizing you up to.

“What can it do?” You raise a brow at your companion. His arms circle your waist, his grin turning mischievous.

“Let's find out.”

________

Your lungs burn, each breath coming hard and sharp while you run. The sound of your pounding feet was swallowed up by the rush of foot traffic around you. Satan drags you behind him ushering you both around the throng of students. “Quickly!” He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a brilliant smile. “The further away from his office we are the less likely he could blame us.”

You laugh breathlessly along with him.

________

“What Belphie say?” You lean onto Satan’s shoulder to peek at his phone. The two of you sit, crowding in on each other's space underneath a desk in one of the unused classrooms.

“It’s glorious. Everything is covered. He says it looks like magic won’t remove it either!” He cackles showing you his screen. Belphie sent him a selfie. He is grinning devilishly from ear to ear throwing you both a peace sign through the screen. In the background, you could clearly see a very irate Lucifer. His face was red with fury and his clothes covered in green goo. His office was wrecked. Your little jelly did a number on it, you hadn’t expected it to expand as large as it did. Your familiar popping on the edge of Lucifer’s desk wasn’t intended either, but totally worth it. “Think you can summon another?” Satan asks, darkening his screen. You shake your head, whatever power you had earlier today had been drained after your little stunt.

Satan nods in understanding. “Shame- imagine what one of your jellies could do to Diavolo’s office.”

“Satan-”

He chuckles wrapping an arm around your back. He plants a loud kiss onto your forehead. “Alright-alright. Perhaps after a bit of a rest and recharge?”

You poke his leg playfully and laugh. “If you wanted to have sex again you could just ask.”

He dips low and kisses you. “Well then- if you are up for another round of delinquency…”

Beelzebub

Sweet baby didn’t know-

Well, he knew about it. Lucifer had given everyone “the talk” about it a couple of millennia ago.

He never really thought about it before you because he didn’t sleep with humans often (Him so big, human so smol if he isn’t paying attention it could be...bad)

So when you drag him into your room he just doesn’t think about it. You are both so oblivious

He doesn’t think about the shift in your scent, your kisses were just as sweet as always. If there was a peppery aftertaste to your kiss he chalks it up to something you had for breakfast

He doesn’t think anything of it when you practically drag him from your bed to shower together before school

He doesn’t think about it when at lunch your appetite starts to rival his

He starts to think about it during P.E. when your dodge ball puts a demon down for the rest of class

He definitely notices when you pin him down to steal his sandwich during your picnic date

Now he’s freaking out, whether it's because you are showing inhuman strength or the fact that you stole his food who knows

You nab yet another one of his sandwiches and start munching away with a hum of happiness. “Hey, babe.” He rumbles beneath you. “You feeling alright?” He wraps his large hands around your waist. Your weight was warm and comfortable over his prone form. He had whisked you away for an afternoon picnic, something to spend more time with you alone. After last night he craved being around you more than anything. He had packed enough food for him in mind. But it looks like it wouldn’t be enough. Odd. Beel rests his head back on the thick blanket protecting you both from the slightly damp grass underneath.

“Hmm?” You swallow down a mouthful of ruben. “Yeah! Famished though.” You lean back on his strong hip and swipe your finger around your mouth to brush off some crumbs. You reach for the other half of his sandwich to devour but pauses when you catch Beel’s kicked puppy look. With a huff of amusement, you offer the other half to him letting him chomp down with a fanged smile in thanks.

He chews in silence, watching you pick up a bowl of fresh fruit. Hmmm… He runs his rough palms up and down your thighs and hips ignoring your squirming and giggles when he runs over the thin skin of your sides. He squeezes you lightly. Huh- Your muscles were firmer than this morning, now that he was looking closer he could see that your frame was a bit sturdier too. Still his perfectly lovable and squishy human but more solid around the edges. In a last-ditch effort to figure out what has changed, he reaches out for his pact mark.

He jerks forward, upsetting your position on his lap, causing you to tumble backward, fruit flying everywhere. “Beel!” You shriek. He shushes you, squeezing your cheeks between warm hands.

“I forgot.”

“You forgot?” You repeat. “What dessert? I’m pretty sure the fruit was part of it...but I mean. If you want grassy cantaloupe it’s all yours.” You eye the remains of the seasonal fruit laying around you and then at the basket. You were pretty sure you saw some pastries at the bottom of it too.

“We had sex.” He blurts out bluntly, and quite loudly.

Your face heats. “Yes, thank you for the reminder.” You push him off sitting up on your elbows. “Please, why don’t you yell it out for all the wildlife to hear too.”

Beelzebub shakes his head groaning. “No-I forgot to warn you about our pact.”

Ahh-oh. You eye him wearily. If he was stressing you were stressing, it wasn’t like him to get so bent out of shape. “Ok-is it, like bad?” What were you going to die? That would be a big thing to just forget. “How about you fill me in big guy.” You listen enraptured while he jerkily explains how you have strengthened your bond exponentially without even realizing it. Magic, super strength, the appetite, all because you jumped his bones.

Nice.

It sounded so cool- but then overwhelming all at the same time. Was it permanent? What if you lost control and actually hurt someone for real.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it-I just. You felt so good.” He wilts. “I should have been more careful- this is the first time I’ve done this.”

“Beel-”

“I swear.” He bulldozes over you. “I didn’t mean to keep this from you.”

You cut him off, combing your fingers through his hair soothingly. “I believe you, Beel.” You smile reassuringly. “It’s not like it’s gonna hurt me...right?” He thinks about it for a minute then grunts, shaking his head. You grin brighter stretching out your arms. “And I get some cool powers right?”

He nods again. “For a bit yes.”

You get up off the ground excitedly. “Right then! You’ll show me the ropes right? I’ve never done anything magical before!” You look at your palms as if fire or sparks were going to fly out of them. Beel rises to his feet too.

“You sure? I doubt I will be as good of a mentor as Lucifer or even Belphie.” He looks around the large grove of trees and sprawling grassy acreage around you both. You both were far away from the populated areas of the mountain pass and town. He could practice with you freely and without worrying about damaging anything important. “Not the date I promised, but if you really want me to show you some stuff…” He offers you a shy smile. He did have a few cool tricks he could show you. You nod already rolling up your sleeves. Well- if this was what you really wanted then he would be glad to show you.

#obey me #obey me fan fic #request!#obey me luficer #obey me diavolo #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub

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