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mariana-oconnor · 2 years ago

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The Stockbroker's Clerk pt 1

I don't know if the title of this one just never stuck in my mind, or if I have never read it. It's not the most inspiring title ACD has ever written, so maybe I just forgot about it.

...which saw Holmes and I leave the comforts of London to visit the city of Birmingham...

Oh hey! It's Brum. That's kind of cool. If I did read this as a kid it probably wouldn't have meant much because I'd been to London but I hadn't been to Birmingham. However, now having spent a not insignificant portion of my life living not too far from Birmingham and a year working there (for no money, ask me my opinions on unpaid internships, I dare you), this definitely means more to me. I'm not super familiar with Birmingham, but I am familiar-ish.

Shortly after my marriage I had bought a connection in the Paddington district. Old Mr. Farquhar, from whom I purchased it, had at one time an excellent general practice; but his age, and an affliction of the nature of St. Vitus's dance from which he suffered, had very much thinned it.

Not to try to deskchair diagnose or anything, but does Old Mr Farquhar have Parkinsons? Is that what he's saying? I guess there are probably other illnesses that manifest as involuntary motion, but that was where my brain went.

The public not unnaturally goes on the principle that he who would heal others must himself be whole, and looks askance at the curative powers of the man whose own case is beyond the reach of his drugs.

Yeah, this sucks. I mean, surely if your doctor's still alive they must be doing something right. Also, this reminds me of that old brainteaser about the two barbers in town. Do you go to the one with the good haircut or the one with the bad haircut. Obviously the one with the bad haircut because he doesn't cut his own hair. Doesn't really work for doctors, I suppose, but that was my immediate thought.

I heard a ring at the bell, followed by the high, somewhat strident tones of my old companion's voice.

Oh wow. Holmes came to Watson. On his own two feet. He didn't just send a letter. Watson didn't show up on the doorstep of 221B at a loose end because his wife was visiting her 'mother'. Holmes actually walked right into Watson's house.

And inquires after their health. He is doing all the socially correct things. He is getting an excellent score in being a house guest.

“To-day, for example?” “Yes, to-day, if you like.” “And as far off as Birmingham?”

I actually went and looked at a Bradshaw's guide to look this up, because I was interested in knowing how quick a train to Birmingham was in the 1890s. About 3 and a half hours, apparently. These days the fastest train from London Euston to Birmingham New Street is about an hour and a quarter. If HS2 (ugh) ever gets finished, they say it will take 49 minutes. But yeah, 3 and a half hours is a bit of a trek for a spontaneous trip (in the UK, I know in the US you think that's a perfectly normal amount of time to travel to get breakfast, but these stories are set in the UK so I'm keeping my UK expectations glasses on.)

“I perceive that you have been unwell lately. Summer colds are always a little trying.”

Holmes hasn't seen his bff in a little while and needs to show off. Perfectly fair.

“I am afraid that I rather give myself away when I explain,” said he. “Results without causes are much more impressive. You are ready to come to Birmingham, then?”

Hence why he hasn't explained why he's going to Birmingham. I love that Holmes is always eager to show off his working and teach Watson, but then we often get this little 'oh, I shouldn't have explained, it's so much more impressive if it's a mystery' moment afterwards.

“Ah! Then you got hold of the best of the two.” “I think I did. But how do you know?” “By the steps, my boy. Yours are worn three inches deeper than his."

I was confused by this because I was thinking 'surely the best one is the one with the best doctor, so that's more on Watson than the building.' Then I realised that Holmes is talking from Watson's perspective, so the best one is the one that came with the most patients. So yeah. Pre-NHS medicine was wild. 'Oh a new doctor just bought my practice, so you're his patient now. Also he believes in Miasma theory. Good lu-u-uck. Toodles!'

The man whom I found myself facing was a well built, fresh-complexioned young fellow, with a frank, honest face and a slight, crisp, yellow mustache. He wore a very shiny top hat and a neat suit of sober black, which made him look what he was—a smart young City man, of the class who have been labeled cockneys, but who give us our crack volunteer regiments, and who turn out more fine athletes and sportsmen than any body of men in these islands.

A yellow moustache and a shiny top hat. That's very distinctive.

Getting a bit condescending and classist again at the end there, Watson.

a half-comical distress

Dude. 'Guy looks so sad I almost laughed' is such a thing to say. Is this supposed to indicate that some of his distress is exaggerated, or is Watson just laughing at him for showing emotions? I guess it's not very stiff-upper-lip of him, what what.

"It is a case, Watson, which may prove to have something in it, or may prove to have nothing, but which, at least, presents those unusual and outré features which are as dear to you as they are to me."

Holmes is really there saying right in front of this guy that his case is so weird he just had to tell his friend. This is so unprofessional, I'm laughing.

Imagine someone coming to you with a problem that's really upsetting them, and as soon as you hear it you're like, 'we have to get my bff' and then after you've dragged your friend in as well you say ''OK, so bestie, this might be pointless, but it might be super weird, and I know you love the weird ones. Listen to this."

Oh god... Watson is like one of those nurses who posts weird cases on tiktok. He really is. Oh no. Now I've thought that I can't unthink it. No!

“The worst of the story is,” said he, “that I show myself up as such a confounded fool. Of course it may work out all right, and I don't see that I could have done otherwise; but if I have lost my crib and get nothing in exchange I shall feel what a soft Johnnie I have been."

OK, so when ACD said cockney he meant 'hold my beer, I'm doing slang.' Right, gotcha. This is going to be a thing.

Also, I love this man already. This is such a me thought process. I hope he doesn't turn out to be a dick. I will feel so betrayed.

I'm not going to quote the entire next passage, my tl;dr summary of it is:

Mr Pycroft used to work for a company that had a financial crisis and had to let him go. He got a good reference, but because so many people were let go, they were all trying to get the same jobs. He's running out of money and applying to every job he can find, but no luck. He saw an ad for a job at literally The Best Company, but they only accepted applications by post, and he got the job. And he's getting a 33% rise on his last job.-

I'm already getting bad vibes about this. 'only apply by post'?? No in person interview? Job seems too good to be true? Getting paid more than in his previous job when clearly there's so much competition for jobs at the moment that they wouldn't need to do that to attract applicants?

"...up came my landlady with a card which had “Arthur Pinner, Financial Agent,” printed upon it."

If he has it on a card then it must be true.

“‘Well,’ said he, ‘the fact is that I have heard some really extraordinary stories about your financial ability. You remember Parker, who used to be Coxon's manager? He can never say enough about it.’"

Look, my company gives me security training like... constantly. I have seen so many videos about phishing and spear phishing and smishing and all other ishings that some of it was bound to stick and this. CLASSIC fraud technique. Name drop someone official that the mark will know? Classic. Establishes a false connection and a false sense of authenticity. Oh well, if he knows Parker he must be alright.

Also, appealing to Mr Pycroft's ego... this is absolutely and totally not a scam. Can't you see how he's got 'Not a Scam' written on his forehead?

“‘Now that shows real application!’ he cried. ‘That is the way to prosper! You won't mind my testing you, will you? Let me see. How are Ayrshires?’ “‘A hundred and six and a quarter to a hundred and five and seven-eighths.’ “‘And New Zealand consolidated?’“

Yeah, he doesn't know what any of those things are. He's not checking anything. He's just asking you questions to seem real and like he knows stuff. He doesn't know anything.

"'My boy, my boy, you are very much too good to be a clerk at Mawson's!’"

Oh boy... is there a scam within a scam happening here? Like, I was already suspicious about the job he got at Mawson's, and now there's another layer to it? What convoluted webs are being woven here.

“‘Ha, ha! I think I would risk a little sporting flutter that you don't go there at all.’"

Ah, well that explains the answer to 'what's going to happen when he turns up to a job that doesn't exist.'

“‘No, sir. By that day you will be the business manager of the Franco-Midland Hardware Company, Limited, with a hundred and thirty-four branches in the towns and villages of France, not counting one in Brussels and one in San Remo.’ “This took my breath away. ‘I never heard of it,’ said I."

“‘I must be frank with you,’ said I. ‘Mawson only gives me two hundred, but Mawson is safe. Now, really, I know so little about your company that—’ “‘Ah, smart, smart!’ he cried, in a kind of ecstasy of delight. ‘You are the very man for us. You are not to be talked over, and quite right, too. Now, here's a note for a hundred pounds, and if you think that we can do business you may just slip it into your pocket as an advance upon your salary.’

Aaaaaaand there's the convincer.

Oh boy. Mr Pycroft was being smart about the thing and then they come in with the £100 note and he's lost.

“We picked him out of the gutter, and he won't leave us so easily.” Those were his very words.’ “‘The impudent scoundrel!’ I cried. ‘I've never so much as seen him in my life."

Yes, that does seem weird, doesn't it. Why would a person you have never met who offered you a good job be so insulting about you? Hmm.

“It was a quarter of an hour before my time, but I thought that would make no difference. 126b was a passage between two large shops, which led to a winding stone stair, from which there were many flats, let as offices to companies or professional men. The names of the occupants were painted at the bottom on the wall, but there was no such name as the Franco-Midland Hardware Company, Limited."

I just have this image of Leverage in my head of Sophie talking through the comms to Nate:

"We have a problem."

"What kind of a problem?"

"He's early."

"What do you mean he's early? He's not supposed to be here for another fifteen minutes, the sign's not up! Hardison isn't in position!"

"Well, I suppose when you convinced him this job was important you convinced him a bit too well, Nate. I told you 500 a year was too much."

"He wouldn't have quit Mawson's for less."

"Well now he's fifteen minutes early and he's looking at the companies in the building and We're. Not. On. There."

"Stall him!"

"I'll do what I can, but even I can't convince a man he's seen a sign that doesn't exist."

"Yes you can."

"Well yes, but I shouldn't have to. And that was an entirely different situation, Nate. You know that... You've got five minutes."

"Give me ten."

“‘This is a directory of Paris,’ said he, ‘with the trades after the names of the people. I want you to take it home with you, and to mark off all the hardware sellers, with their addresses. It would be of the greatest use to me to have them.’"

Well, at least it's not copying out the encyclopaedia Britannica this time? And this time the dumb task at least seems partially relevant.

But unlike Mr Jabez Wilson, whose shop was next to a bank, Mr Pycroft here doesn't own property, so why would anyone need to get him out of the house? Especially all the way to Birmingham? Obviously there's got to be a lot of money involved as they gave him £100 as a convincer. (About £10,300 in today's money). That's a hell of a lot to toss away on a whim. There has to be a massive payout.

"'Don't overwork yourself. A couple of hours at Day's Music Hall in the evening would do you no harm after your labors.’ He laughed as he spoke, and I saw with a thrill that his second tooth upon the left-hand side had been very badly stuffed with gold.” Sherlock Holmes rubbed his hands with delight, and I stared with astonishment at our client.

I've got to assume that this means Holmes recognises the tooth (It's a very distinctive tooth) and that's why he's so excited about dentistry.

Also, getting the impression that this work is not very urgent.

“You may well look surprised, Dr. Watson; but it is this way,” said he: “When I was speaking to the other chap in London, at the time that he laughed at my not going to Mawson's, I happened to notice that his tooth was stuffed in this very identical fashion. [...] I could not doubt that it was the same man."

Oooh, yeah. That makes sense. It also implies we're working with a single antagonist rather than a crew. Unless all the other members of the crew are either easily recognisable criminals or just terrible at acting. But it being the same guy totally makes sense.

"Why had he sent me from London to Birmingham? Why had he got there before me? And why had he written a letter from himself to himself?"

I mean... I honestly don't have a clue about this one. Clearly there must be money involved, or else giving away £100 would be ridiculous. All that Mr Pycroft has done so far is go to Birmingham and read through lists of French retailers. It's got him away from London.

UNLESS... the job offer from Mawson's was real? I mean, it had red flags all over it. But if they're planning to do some sort of stockmarket crime with the Best Stockbroker in London then convincing him not to go to work and then sending an imposter in would work. And there is at least one other person involved, but they were needed to pretend to be him. That seems to be the only logical explanation at the moment. So he really did get a job at the best place in town without an interview?

Sending him all the way to Birmingham seems a little excessive, but I guess he'd know all the other places in town and Birmingham is the next biggest city in the country. Finance is pretty centralised in the UK, and I can't imagine that was different in the Victorian era.

Mawson's needs a better hiring policy, though, if that's the case. First they don't even know if the person who turns up is the person they hired. Second, someone managed to get information about a new hire from them before that new hire even had their first day.

If that's not the case, and the Mawson's job was also fraudulent as I initially believed, then I have no clue what's going on.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Stockbroker's Clerk #long post

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boyakishantriage · 2 years ago

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"Lector Cobra. Chicken man, and also someone who's planning of a series of actions that will result in the earth's destruction."

The chicken man in question spit an acid pellet at me, dodging it easily, flame melting the pellet as it transmuted into fire. Dodging the attack, he tries sweep, instead I slam the larger man into the cave above.

"ALRIGHT WHAT-"

I shoved my fist through his face shattering an illusion into reality, the man stumbling and crashing into the ground like a cartoon character.

"WELCOME TO THE TOONVERSE LECTOR."

The human swung a blade her body couldn't possibly hold even with enhancements.

"How long would you like your stay to be."

"Zero."

"Great. Infinite applied, only caveat is you listen to this-"

She caught the flaming pellet as it spat out the young adult alien. Sighing, I swung the fan, wind whipping into a ferocious fury blinding the chicken man as I cracked every bone in my body, before slamming him through the ground.

"How many layers will it take-"

Hands catching feet as he fought like a Brazilian, heavy kicks with the only missing part being just music.

"How's classic?"

More punches.

"Pop?"

Frustrated caw.

"Punk?"

Annoyed increase.

"Alright, country."

Two stepping my way around his strikes, using my bucklers, before slamming them like cymbals.

"JUST DIE ALREADY."

Clearly he was beyond frustrated at this point, animistic roar only accented by his flaming kicks. Honestly kind of stupid an alien species who's main thing was flaming kicking chicken, but Japan was definitely stranger.

Catching his punch, I then forced him to his kness.

"Alright. Here's the answer to your first question chick."

Slamming his balls so he wouldn't attack me while I answered his stupid question, cawing as he gripped his crotch.

"I have something called magic, it's long complicated but it's how your species-"

He threw a flaming kick, not getting the message clearly, so I snapped his leg in two.

"-your species can do flaming kicks without breaking the sound barrier."

The human woman was definitely annoyed now, breaking her opponents leg was childish at best.

The chicken man swung his arms around, wild trying to ignite his power through that childish ritual.

"As I was saying. I have that skill too and if you-"

I ducked under the molten strike, arms sweeping like a ribbon dance of death as he ca-cawked like a dumb bitch.

She broke both his wings, snapping his other leg as she began beating him bloody.

"Did your parents never teach you manners?"

"Did your parents teach you to never break into someone's base?"

"My parents died dickhead."

"Same. Humans-"

"Killed them, specifically bandits. NOT. THE. ENTIRE. HUMAN. RACE. NOW QUIT REGENNING."

Stupid huma-SQUARK

I ripped out his magical core, genetic code? Whatever, didn't matter, shattering the DNA before forcing my hand down his throat. Unable to speak, I glared down at him.

"Without your magic. You are nothing more than a little boy who can kick good. That's all you are. All I've done barely uses any magic and even then, it's mostly just party tricks. Don't make me go serious, or I will make your sure soul-"

The chicken gargled, clearly laughing at the mention of soul.

"Oh? Don't believe me?"

She then ripped out his larynx

He was dead. Or should be, body shimmering red as he felt himself rising. Only for something to hold him tethered, before slamming him into the ground. "Infinity gun." Something happened around him, the very reality of. Mathematics? The stuff he used to figure out where he was in space, this. Reality...

Every fibre of his being glitched, shattering and shaking with instability as she held him together, finally she slammed him into the wall in reality.

"You call off the attack, or I will make everything-"

His body was on fire, drowning, asphyxiating, every kind of death, pain all over every part of his body when she said that.

"-you felt-"

It increased in intensity, layers, his body releasing oils and water.

"-will become your final reality. No more honour, I'll turn you into my slave."

Images flashed of his lineage, line all of it slaughtered after death. The greater strength of his power lost, made to work for someone greater than him...

Anger filled his eyes, pure rage. Then. He dropped it, letting him go. And one. Two.

She caught his foot, actually breaking every bone down to his pelvis, the entire skeletal structure of his leg bleeding like nails impaled the entire length of his foot.

"Most of my colleagues don't interfere, too scared of consequences and changing."

She lifted a sword at least thrice her own size, reality breaking and cutting open as she pulled it from nothing. Raising it over her head.

"Important pieces. You're not important in the slightest, so suffer or go kill yourself. You pathetic, dishonourable piece of shit."

The unholy screams of a warrior screaming in pure fear, pain and hopelessness. One nearly identical with death echoed out the hidden cave, the entire left side of his body burned with magical signias marking him as cursed, dishonourable and best of all. Marked for death.

"bit extreme sweetheart~"

"Bit bigoted, darling."

"You know how much you're gonna have to do for this stunt?"

"Do you know how much it was worth it?"

"I'm afraid I do. Now let's move. Don't want the UEN of this world to see us."

#tag #BoyakishanTriage #humans are space orcs #Aura lore or some shit

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z-iridest · 2 years ago

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Quest of the Phoenixborn: A MHA Fantasy AU fanfic

Chapter 2- The Dragon and the Barbarian:

With a reluctant heart, Hinotori left Embermore behind with her band of companions. Along with the roguish Fumikage was the charming bard Denki, the silent footed Mashiro and Fumikage's bird familiar, Dark Shadow. By the time the sun was setting on the Demon Princess's first day away from home, they'd reached Lillimore.

Lillimore was a small, quaint village whose hospitality was legendary. Lanterns hung from trees all around, the smell of good food wafting out the windows of the taverns and inns as the streets bustled with travelers of every shape and size. Hinotori took in the sights around her, amazed by the beauty the lanterns provided. Fumikage watched as the group's newest companion looked around, her eyes alight with the wonder of a child. In the middle of it all was a fountain, next to which two familiar faces to Denki were playing music. "Hanta, Mina! Good to see you again!" Denki called them after the song finished. Mina was a girl with pink skin, pink hair and gold irises with the rest of her eyes being black. Meanwhile, Hanta was a tall, dark haired boy with a Cheshire grin and elbows bigger than Hinotori had ever seen before.

"Denki! About time you came for a visit!" Mina shouted to him as she charged, glomping the blond in a hug.

"Yeah, the music just wasn't the same without you, man. Care to join us for a song?" Hanta asked.

"Always!" Denki replied before he turned to Hinotori, winking at her. "Just watch me play, cutie." Denki's flirtatious words made Hinotori roll her eyes, watching as Denki joined the duo.

Her eyes softened as she listened, the trio beginning playing a melody that seemed familiar to her, as if she'd heard it in a dream once before... "Pardon me, milady, would you like to dance?" A new voice brought her out of her thoughts, and when she turned, she saw a boy around her age bowing to her. Once he looked up, she saw that his eyes were as red as rubies, the color matching his spikey hair. His teeth, sparkling white in a sweet grin, looked sharp and Hinotori noticed the horns that swept up and back and the ruby red scales that were on his shoulders. A tail as red as the big wings on his back swept the ground behind him as he awaited her response.

"O-Oh, I couldn't, I don't know how to dance." Hinotori stuttered out. The boy's smile only grew wider, his eyes showing affection for her.

"I can teach you if you want." He offered out his hand to her. "I promise, it's okay if you step on my toes, I'm tough." He grinned encouragingly. Hinotori hesitated, glancing at her companions only to find that they were watching in amusement. She turned back to the boy before her, forcing herself to take a deep breath and nodding, placing her hand in his.

"I have to learn somehow..." She trailed off.

"That's the spirit! Come on." Despite his hands being calloused and rough, his hold on her hand was gentle, the boy leading her to the middle of the crowd that was gathering. Hinotori felt even more nervous when she noticed the crowd, but felt the boy gently turn her head toward him with a finger. "Don't worry about them... Just keep your eyes on me." He whispered softly before he began to teach her how to dance. Their movements began slow and steady, Hinotori's teacher counting under his breath as he guided the young woman. Hinotori found her feet moving faster to keep up with Eijiro, the boy grinning as the two danced together. Giggles left Hinotori as she was spun, a few more people joining them in the dance. "You've got it!" He encouraged, grinning wide as those dancing around them spun at the same time. However, after one turn, Hinotori found herself in the arms of a stranger. Instead of the wide crimson eyes of her newest acquaintance, she was now gazing into a pair of narrow vermillion eyes. Time seemed to stop as the two gazed at each other. The boy before her bore no shirt on his chest, though sleeves of some kind covered his arms. A fur collar protected his neck, a cape of crimson red drifting down to sit just inches above the ground his boots stood on. His hair was ash blond, spikey and sharp looking to all who were tempted to touch it. His legs bore trousers unlike any she'd ever seen before. The look in his eyes was piercing, though it softened the more he looked into hers before he huffed.

"Don't stop dancing, dumbass, the music's still playing." He told her, continuing to dance with her as the tempo picked up, the boots of the two moving in sync with each other and the music. Their eyes remained on the other, moving effortlessly around as the crowd clapped in beat. For that brief moment, Hinotori forgot her woes, forgot the cruelty of her father and the consequences that would await her once she returned home. For the moment... She felt not only belonging, but happiness, dancing in the arms of the stranger before her...

All too soon, the music came to an abrupt end, the crowd applauding and cheering as the musicians took their bows. The young man let go of her hand, his eyes still regarding her. "Not bad for a first time dancer. What's your name?" He inquired of her. She gave a small bow.

"My name is Hinotori." She answered him.

"Hinotori... I think I prefer Flame Hair." The boy's comment made her frown.

"And what exactly are you called?" She questioned him. He looked at her for a moment before he opened his mouth to answer, only for a different voice to interrupt him.

"Kacchan! I didn't think I'd see you here!" Denki called out as he approached the two. Hinotori raised an eyebrow as Kacchan groaned.

"Kacchan? I thought only Izuku called you that?" Her red haired acquaintance joined them as well.

"No, Deku is the one that came up with it.... Sparky here just picked up on it and hasn't dropped it since we were brats." The blond shot a glare at the bard, Denki only grinning in return.

"Don't worry, Hino, he's got weird nicknames for everybody. His real name's..."

"Prince Katsuki of Niterra... Which I would have told her sooner if you idiots hadn't interrupted me!" Katsuki growled. Eijiro laughed as Denki grinned.

"And I see you've met my newest companion, Kacchan." Denki threw his arm around the blond male's shoulder, the blond shoving him off. "And the half dragon you were dancing with earlier is..."

"Eijiro Kirishima of the Crimson Clan. A pleasure to meet you, Lady Hinotori." Once again, the half dragon bowed, holding her hand in his.

"Please, Eijiro, no need for formalities." She tried to wave it off, but he merely gave her a grin. During this, the Niterrian Prince examined the young woman in front of him. She wasn't like anyone he'd seen before, from her scarlet gold hair to her golden eyes and down to her boot clad feet. He noticed the diadem that sat on her forehead was the one rumored to have been lost after the last Queen of Embermore had passed, and the fact that this woman he'd just met was wearing it... It was rather suspicious to him.

"Where did you get that crown?" He asked her bluntly just as Eijiro rose to full height.

"Katsuki, what're you-"

"Look closer at her diadem, Shitty Scales. That's the same one that was rumored to have disappeared after the Queen of Embermore died." Katsuki pointed out as he turned to the crimson scaled young man before turning back to Hinotori, a glare set on his face. Before Hinotori could open her mouth to defend herself, a voice spoke.

"I can answer that. It appeared on her forehead after she pulled the Phoenixborn's sword from the ground." Fumikage spoke up in Hinotori's defense before Katsuki could even think to accuse her of stealing it. "Her touch released the sword and renewed it to it's former glory."

"You're kidding, right? Someone like her, the Phoenixborn? The Phoenixborn's just a whelping's tale!"

"I hardly believed the tale myself until I watched it happen, Prince Katsuki. She is the Phoenixborn."

"Katsuki, look at her sword. It's the Phoenix Blade, all right. I can sense its magic and it's the exact same as the sword of legend." Eijiro pointed out.

"We're bringing her to the royal city for Prince Shoto's ball." Denki explained. Seeing the look on his friend's face, Prince Katsuki spoke again.

"Shitty Scales, don't even think-"

"You wouldn't mind if we tagged along, would you? Prince Shoto invited us as well, and we might as well add extra protection for our Lady Hinotori." Eijiro asked.

"Not at all, in fact, we'd love the company." Denki cheerfully accepted Eijiro's offer despite Katsuki's protests, much to Hinotori's amusement.

"In that case, let's head to a tavern and get you guys fed. I can imagine you're famished from traveling." Eijiro replied before offering an arm to Hinotori. "Shall we, milady?" Hinotori giggled at the gentlemanly gesture.

"Don't even think about it. You can't multitask for shit. Knowing you, you'd make her trip while trying to catch up with Dunce Face. I'll escort her." Katsuki growled, making Eijiro laugh again.

"Fine, fine. I'll leave her in your capable hands, then." The crimson dragon relented.

"Somebody's jealous..." Denki singsonged under his breath.

"Hah?! You want to say that to my face, Dunce Face! I'll kill you!" Katsuki snapped.

"You can't kill Denki and escort our lovely acquaintance here, Katsuki." Eijiro pointed out, making the blond groan before he turned to her, offering his arm.

"Come." He only spoke the one word before Hinotori took his arm and the group moved to one of the nearby taverns. Mina was ecstatic to have a new female friend and asked many questions of Hinotori, to which Hinotori answered without giving too much away about her true origins. Eijiro, Hanta and Denki led the way to a small tavern that was out of the way of the bustle of Lillimore, Fumikage and Mashiro bringing up the rear. The trio of boys chattered excitedly in the front, a chat Mina soon joined after exhausting herself of questions for Hinotori. "Don't tell them I said this, but... They're good people, even if they're annoying as hell sometimes. I'm lucky to have them as... Well, as my friends." He murmured to her. She smiled, opening her mouth to say his secret was safe when Eijiro piped up.

"Aww, we're lucky to have you for a friend too!" Eijiro grinned, having heard the blond.

"Looks like Blasty's a softy after all." Denki teased.

"Shut the hell up, idiot! I didn't say shit!" Katsuki bellowed back, causing Hinotori to laugh.

"Your ears are red." She observed.

"No, they're not... Let's just get some food." Katsuki denied as the trio disappeared into a tavern, dropping his arm to hold the door open for her.

"Thank you." Hinotori smiled, causing him to huff as she walked in. The little tavern had a few groups of people at tables, the dining area filled with the scattered conversations, creating a buzz in the room that made Hinotori hesitate for a minute. Her hearing was on overload due to all the voices... She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sound for a minute... It wasn't long before she felt a calloused hand at the small of her back, looking up to see the Prince of Niterra looking at her and noticing her discomfort.

"I know the Proprietress if you'd rather eat in a quieter place... She has a private room we can eat in." He murmured to her, making sure that the dragon was out of earshot this time. Hinotori hesitated before shaking her head.

"No, I'll be fine." She answered, looking up at the Niterrian Prince. He looked like he didn't believe her for a moment before nodding.

"All right, but the moment it gets too much, tell me." Katsuki ordered her. A small smile crossed her face again before she nodded, the couple joining the rest of the group as they all started ordering food and drink. The mistress of the tavern was a young woman that was small in stature, around the same age as Hinotori. Hinotori wasn't really listening as she observed the young woman. Her eyes were a dark forest green, matching her hair that seemed to hang in her face and fell all the way down to a bow that was at the small of her back. The scarlet gold eyes of the half demoness noticed Fumikage's eyes were trained solely on the mistress of the tavern, the look in the young man's crimson orbs soft with adoration and love. Dark Shadow emerged from Fumikage, purring as he got a pet from the young woman.

"Oh, a new face. My name's Tsuyu Asui of Lillimore, but please, call me Tsu."

"A pleasure, Lady Tsu. My name's Hinotori." Hinotori introduced herself.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too." Tsu beamed.

"Tsu is Fumi's soulmate!" Dark Shadow squawked causing Fumikage to get a flustered look on his face.

"Dark Shadow, cease your behavior at once!" Fumikage ordered his familiar, causing laughter all around. After ordering, something occurred to Hinotori. Not only were soulmates unheard of in Khazadum, but she'd also never heard the legend of the Phoenixborn. She only knew that her father had forbidden her from learning any knowledge of the outside world. Eijiro saw her confusion as Tsu passed out the drinks.

"Is something wrong, Lady Hinotori?" He asked. Hinotori looked at the half dragon.

"Not really, I just... I'm curious about something... Actually, two things." Hinotori began.

"Ask away." He encouraged her.

"As you know, I'm from the outskirts of Khazadum, but... I was wondering about the whole soulmate thing... And the legend of the Phoenixborn." She looked at her drink, cupping her hands around it. "I know, my inquiry sounds stupid, but my father.... Well, he's kept me hidden from the world, so these are things I've never even heard of before." She explained.

"No, Hinotori, it's not stupid at all... It's natural for you to be curious when you grew up differently than we did." Eijiro reassured her. Hinotori returned her gaze to him before Fumikage leaned forward.

"Soulmates only happen once, and it happens differently for everyone." He rolled up the sleeve of his tunic to show Hinotori a mark on his arm. The mark was a water lilly, the same mark Tsu had on the inside of her wrist. "For Lady Tsu and I, our marks slowly faded in with time until the day we met. I'd gotten through a battle and happened upon her, passing out. When I came to, she was caring for me. Her touch calmed an aching feeling I'd had for a long time, as if I was coming home to someone I'd known a lifetime ago... The mark solidified into this bloomed water lilly and has been there ever since. That was merely a year ago." As he finished his story, he cast a fond smile at Tsu, who returned the loving look. Katsuki huffed.

"What they don't tell you is that for some, it never comes, so don't get your hopes up." Katsuki added.

"You're just bitter because you haven't found your soulmate yet." Denki quipped.

"Hah?! You're one to talk, idiot!"

"Actually, I met my muse just last month." Denki grinned, showing off a red string on his finger. It led toward the singer of the band that was playing music in the tavern, a beautiful young woman with short amethyst hair and strange looking earlobes.

"Hey, come on, don't rub it in." Eijiro thumped him. "You know Lady Kyoka wouldn't like you doing that."

"She's working, she's not listening." Denki argued.

"As for the legend about the Phoenixborn, that's a story we all know too well... If I may tell it to our friend." Mashiro, who'd been quiet the whole time, added. After a nod from his friends, he began. "The story of the Phoenixborn started with a Queen that was said to have been created by the very gods themselves. They say her flames created the kingdom of Embermore around the same time the Demon King created Khazadum. Some say that the Demon King came to attack the Queen, some say that he murdered the elves in the neighboring kingdom to ask for her hand in marriage. Whatever the reason, it began a rivalry between the two kingdoms. Century after century, the Demon King and Phoenixborn would spar in battle with the Phoenixborn reigning victorious each time. But, the Demon King was only buying time in his defeats, growing stronger with each Phoenixborn he took down. 100 years ago, Queen Zarina of Embermore was warned that this time, the outcome would not be the same as before, and that Embermore would fall to the dark kingdom. Sure enough, just as the prophecy was spoken to Queen Zarina, the Demon King returned for his centennial rematch, and this time, he'd slaughtered all who had stood in his way to get to her. In a desperate attempt to protect their family, she ordered her personal guard to protect her son, so that the bloodline of the Phoenixborn would continue. Queen Zarina died in that battle, falling prey to the Demon King. His first act was to burn down Embermore, an example of what would happen should anyone be foolish enough to stand against him. But, unknown to him, his mad rush to destroy Embermore only served to seal his fate. Prince Xharial, the son of the Embermorian Queen, had survived. For 70 years, he tried to hunt down the Demon King, but to no avail. When he died, it was said that the crown and sword of the Phoenixborn was passed down to Akaida, his great granddaughter. Xharial knew that since his time was up, and Akaida only had the wings of the Phoenix, it was only a matter of time before the next Phoenixborn would be born. So, he made her promise something: To cast a spell on the sword once she had slain the Demon King, a spell that would only allow the Phoenixborn to pull the sword from Embermore's soil. 30 years ago, when she was 18, she helped the brave hero All Might take down the Demon King. But, 10 years ago, both Akaida and All Might disappeared, allowing the Demon King to retake his form and rebuild his power."

"Tch, according to that damn Deku, All Might appeared to him in a dream and told him he'd train Deku to be a hero. That was a year ago apparently. Nothing that idiot says makes sense..." Katsuki brought up.

"What about Akaida?" Hinotori asked after a moment, turning to Mashiro. The blond only shook his head.

"Last we knew, 10 years ago, Akaida did what Prince Xharial told her to and left Embermore. She'd been searching for her infant daughter for 6 years at that point... Someone just stole the baby in the middle of the night shortly after she was born. Akaida didn't look well last we saw her, though..." Denki's face was somber as he finished, looking at his companions. Fumikage and Mashiro bowed their heads, Eijiro giving a soft whine.

"Damnit, I wish I knew what happened to her..." Eijiro spoke up.

"We all do... She was kind enough to allow me to build a home with my family in the ruins of Embermore." Fumikage told them.

"Same with us." Denki and Mashiro finished.

"Hey, uh-uh! Akaida wouldn't want us to despair. Besides, now that Hinotori's here, the Phoenixborn is alive again! There's still hope!" Mina slapped the boys on their backs as she sprang up from her chair. Katsuki pushed her back down into her seat, Hinotori noting that some of the patrons had stopped talking and eating and had glanced their way. As Katsuki scolded Mina for being loud with that information, Hinotori froze, seeing a pair of red eyes glaring at her through the window. Tomura... Not now.... Hinotori thought, her stomach dropping at the sight of him. Just as she blinked though, he was gone. A piercing scream came from outside, causing everyone at Hinotori's table to jump up and for the band to stop playing. Shadow chirped in a panicking manner and before she even knew what she was doing, Hinotori ran out the door as a peasant woman ran in, screaming something about a demon attack. Hinotori grabbing her sword on the way out, racing toward the demons with her hair ablaze. She roared as loud as she could, allowing herself to form into her demon form briefly to show the demons who they were dealing with. Many of them were scared and left, but a dark chuckle left one of them.

"Nice disguise... Princess." The demon emerged further into the light, his shape shifting magic in effect as he smirked, forming the human version of the demon that had plagued Hinotori's life for three years.

"Could say the same to you, Akako." Hinotori snarled.

"Come now, is that anyway to greet your beloved?" Akako smirked. Hinotori sent a burst of flame his way as she gave a yell of anger, making him dodge it.

"You're not my beloved!" She snapped. "Leave now!"

"Temper, temper. Or what, little princess? You'll bite my head off as a demon? You'll expose yourself as the daughter of the Demon King to everyone in that damn village, including your little friend group you've built for yourself. Not wise... Ah!" Before he could get another word in, a slice of the Phoenix Blade cut through his skin. "Where did you get that?" He hissed, glaring at her.

"Embermore. It responds to me alone." Hinotori smirked, spinning her blade before giving a battle cry as the two fought. She could hear the sounds of her companions joining the fight the other demons off as she used her flame magic and her wings to fight. The swords of the two clashed as they battled before a scream left Hinotori, her sword dropping as her body crumpled to the ground.

"Good thing you forgot about my blood magic, Princess. Now, I'm taking you home to collect the massive reward your father put on your head and not even my stupid sister is going to let you get back out." Akako smirked. But, just as he went to knock her out with his magic while she struggled, Hinotori heard footsteps bounding toward them before she heard the unmistakable sound of a transformation happening, a light flashing. When it faded, a massive red dragon was looming over Hinotori protectively, roaring in a threat that promised death.

"I suggest you leave, idiot. My dragon's hungry and your demon ass is on the menu for tonight." Katsuki growled, vocalizing the threat. Akako growled.

"This isn't the last you'll see of me. We will meet again." A roar from the great red dragon caused him to back into the shadows and disappear. He's not scared of me even in my full demon form, yet he's scared of this dragon? How does that make sense? He's not even half my demon form's size... Hinotori thought. A soft growl from the dragon broke her thoughts, a purr leaving the dragon as he laid his head on her lap.

"I'm fine, really." Hinotori promised him, petting the dragon's head. Happy purrs left the dragon before Katsuki joined them.

"All right, you idiot, enough coddling her. Let her get up." Katsuki ordered the dragon. A growl left the dragon this time, curling around her defiantly. "Eijiro Kirishima, get up, now! You're not a whelpling that she can carry, you idiot." Hinotori blinked before looking at the red dragon.

"This is what you look like in your dragon form?" She asked him. The dragon purred once more, nuzzling her as she giggled.

"Don't encourage him, Flame Hair." Katsuki barked at her. "Get out of your dragon form already, Kirishima, you can't use the baths here like that." At the sound of a bath, Eijiro's dragon ears popped upward, and his tail began happily thumping. With an affectionate nudge to her cheek, Kirishima transformed into his human form and bounded inside. Katsuki shook his head before turning to her. "Don't think I didn't see that, that extra draining energy from you." He offered his hand to her.

"How'd you know?" She asked, taking his hand and letting him pull her up.

"My old hag. She taught me how to look for stuff like that." Katsuki answered, letting go of her hand and letting her step forward. But, not being as strong as she thought, Hinotori tumbled forward, only stopped from hitting the ground by Katsuki's quick movements. "Careful, idiot. C'mon, I know a healer not too far from here. You've got a few cuts on you too, so we can get those healed while we're at it. Hold onto my arm." Hinotori did as she was told, letting Bakugo help her toward a little hut down aways from the little tavern they'd be staying in that night.

"How do you know so many people here?" Hinotori asked after a moment.

"When I was a brat, demons took over Niterra. My parents managed to keep everyone alive except for the soldiers that stayed behind to allow us time to escape. The people here hid us while my mother regained power. I met Deku, Dunce Face, Tape Elbows, Racoon Eyes and Shitty Scales here.... Oh, and Round Cheeks, the healer I'm taking you to see. They were... Kind to us, made sure we had everything we needed even though most of them had nothing... Tch... I've protected the idiots as much as I can ever since, to repay them since the hag regained the Niterrian throne a few years ago." Katsuki answered honestly before he knocked on the door of the hut. "Oi, Round Cheeks! You there?" He called. A shuffling came from inside the hut before the door swung open revealing a short young woman with a curvy figure, fair skin, and auburn hair with eyes that match in color. She had perpetual pink blush on her cheeks, and her eyes were large and round with thick upper lashes, two more extended and more prominent ones on either side and fewer but more individually pronounced lower lashes. Her hair was shoulder-length, bobbed hair with short bangs, and two long strands framing her face. Inspecting the fingers of the hand holding her staff, Hinotori noticed small, thick pads on her fingertips similar to the digits of an animal's paws, a sight that the half demoness found intriguing.

"Bakugo, it's been a long... What happened?" The girl changed her statement to an inquiry as soon as she saw Hinotori's body covered in cuts and bruises along with the overall weakness she sensed.

"A damn demon attack around Lady Tsu's tavern... This idiot charged head on and took them on before getting drained of her magic." Katsuki huffed.

"Sounds like somebody we both know... Come on in and get more comfortable, I'll grab what I need and join you in a moment." With that, the girl turned on her heel and disappeared further inside the hut. Katsuki turned to Hinotori.

"C'mon, Pink Cheeks'll fix you up." Katsuki told her before helping her inside. The feeling of warmth touched Hinotori's skin, returning the strength to her little by little. The little hut felt cozy and warm, unlike the dark tower that Hinotori had called home all her previous years. Katsuki had her sit on the bed near the window, a bed that Hinotori found was soft and comfortable. The girl returned not too long after, smiling warmly at her as she bent down to her. She held up a jar.

"This is my homemade healing salve. My healing magic itself needs work, but the healing potions and others I make seem to work just fine." She smiled as she opened the jar and applied some salve to the bruises and cuts on Hinotori's arms and face.

"It usually does the trick to heal any kinda shit that happens, I just didn't have any on me."

"Ah, that's why you came to me this time.... Hand over your jars and bottles, I'll refill them while you're here."

"Thanks or... Whatever." Katsuki mumbled as he handed them over. She flashed a smile before taking them and heading over to a different part of the room. Katsuki looked at Hinotori. "How're you feeling?"

"A lot better than before. Just walking in here returned some of my strength." He nodded in response.

"Figured you would be. Round Cheeks is annoying sometimes, but she's good at healing magic."

"Well, thank you, Bakugo." She smiled as she returned, giving the bottles and jars back to Katsuki filled to the brim. "By the way, my name's Ochaco. You come to me if you're ever in need of healing supplies in Lillimore, okay?" She introduced herself.

"Yes, thank you, Lady Ochaco. My name's Hinotori." Hinotori replied, introducing herself as well.

"Nice to meet you, and not a problem. Now, be more careful out there," She shot a pointed look at Katsuki. "Both of you."

"Tch, what're you lookin' at me for, idiot? C'mon, Flame Hair, let's go." Katsuki dragged Hinotori up and out of the hut, barely giving the girls time to wave goodbye to each other.

"I wasn't sure about the nicknames, but I can see why you call her Round Cheeks." Hinotori spoke after a moment, making Katsuki snort.

"Yeah, plus it's just easier to remember, sometimes." Katsuki told her.

"In that case, I'll call you Blasty." Hinotori smirked.

"Hah?! You wanna die, idiot?!" Katsuki yelled, causing her to laugh and run off. "Don't run away from me, ya little shit!" He couldn't help but laugh as well as the two raced each other back to the tavern. Once inside, Hinotori was led to her room, bidding good night to her companions. As Hinotori fell into a peaceful slumber that night, she had no way of knowing that miles away, a demon was almost to the dark kingdom, hurrying to inform the Demon King of his daughter's escape from the palace and her betrayal....

To Be Continued....

Previous Chapter

Taglist: @qweenexplosionmurder13 @euphorical-angel

#Spotify #cannon x oc #hinotori yagi #mha #quest of the Phoenixborn

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cosmiclove-heavenstruck · 3 years ago

Text

Dance Lessons | Harry James Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Wordcount: 12200 words (Yes, really. Do you ever just start to write a little oneshot and then it turns out as a fic with over 10000 words?)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, sexual tension but no smut, fluff, slight angst, slow burn i guess

Summary: Harry asks you to teach him how to dance for the upcoming Spring Ball.

a/n: Set in Harry’s sixth year. English is not my native language, so there might be spelling/grammar mistakes. (The beginning is inspired by this oneshot)

Not many could say that they had faced Voldemort more than once and had survived, but Harry Potter was one of the few lucky ones that had gotten away every time. And if that wasn’t enough, Harry had defeated horrifying creatures, had broken into the Ministry and had saved the wizarding world several times – more or less accidentally, but hey. He had dealt with Umbridge and fought Death Eaters.

To the world, he was a hero, he was the Boy Who Lived.

So yes, his record of fighting the evil was quite impressive for a sixteen-year-old. But there was one thing he knew he would never impress anyone with and that were his dance skills.

Because Harry Potter couldn’t dance for shit.

Everyone who had watched his poor attempt at a waltz at the Yule Ball knew it had been an embarrassing disaster, and a blessing when he had stopped – merely for Parvati Patil’s feet.

Everyone who had watched knew that Harry Potter had never before set foot on a dancefloor. And you had watched. You had watched with great interest because secretly, you had wished for him to ask you to the ball. But when there had been only two weeks left and Dean Thomas had asked you after Transfiguration class, you had said yes.

There you were, sitting with Dean beside Seamus and Lavender as well as Ron and his date Padma, your eyes glued to the raven-haired boy getting terribly out of step. You watched, of course, under the pretence that you found it disgracefully hilarious.

Harry had never thought about asking you to the Yule Ball, if he was quite honest with himself. He had been after Cho, and he waited way too long to ask her, so she was already going with Cedric. And you had a date with Dean.

As good as Harry was with fighting the dark and the evil, as bad was he with social interactions. He had no problem producing a Patronus, but he was absolutely useless when it came to talking to girls.

You were the opposite.

Yes, the boggart may had made you faint in front of your whole class, but on the other hand, talking seemed like the easiest task in the world. Whether it was a chat with a teacher or speaking to strangers, though you did not thrive off of that.

There was one other thing that made you stand out to the other girls (and boys) in your year: You knew how to dance, from a simple disco fox to a more complicated waltz.

So, when Professor Slughorn announced a Spring ball for the students in sixth and seventh year, Harry knew you were his only chance if he did not want to make a fool out of himself again. He asked you (after a whole week of practicing in front of the mirror), with heated cheeks and a fast-beating heart, if you could teach him how to dance.

You felt a bit taken by surprise by this request, but agreed, nonetheless.

Friday evenings, eight to nine o’clock, were now reserved for your weekly dance lessons.

Looking at Harry’s history, it should be no big deal to dance with a girl when you had already come across the most dangerous things existing in the wizarding world. He should not be nervous; what was the girl teaching you how to dance against gigantic spiders who saw you as their dessert?

Well, everything.

The thing was, Harry could prepare spells and charms, he knew what he had to do when he was faced with a Dementor or a Boggart. His mind, however, went completely blank when it came to you, like his nerves were on fire. To say he was nervous was an underestimation.

Harry ran his hand through the mess of black locks in a rather useless attempt to flatten them. They jumped back up immediately as he let go, pointing in every direction but the one he wanted them to. Stupid genes.

Sometimes he wished he had inherited his mother’s hair. It would have been fun to be mistaken as a Weasley and he could pretend he and Ron were actually brothers.

To keep his hands busy, Harry smoothened the plaid shirt he had thrown on before darting another glance at the clock over the door of the abandoned classroom on the fifth floor. 8:01 o’clock.

His fingers drummed against the wooden desk he was leaning on to release his excited tension, which only worked until the door opened, and he jumped up into a straight position.

You stepped inside, a vinyl clammed under your arm and an apologizing smile on your lips.

“Sorry I’m late, Snape held me off,” You said, placing your bag on the table Harry had leaned on previously.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. Uh, are you alright?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah. I mean Snape just almost failed my assignment, but I found a new song to dance to, and I’m pretty sure you’ll like it,” You said as you rushed over to the old vinyl player in the corner and unwrapped the black record.

Harry followed your every movement. You could feel his eyes on you and bit down on your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

“It’s a bit slower than the other one, so it will be easier for you to follow,” You added and pulled the vinyl out, stroking a streak of Y/H/C hair behind your ear, your back still facing him.

When the record was placed correctly into the player, you turned back around and led Harry by the hand to the middle of the classroom. This simple touch alone made Harry’s head spin, and it did not help when you placed his hand onto your waist.

“Are you ready?” You asked and he nodded. “Good, follow my lead.”

There was nothing but admirable beauty, the way you moved to the soft piano music filling the room, Harry thought, and he hated himself for not realising sooner. You were like a sunset, and he was afraid to look right at you because what if you saw all the feelings swelling in his heart that dared to overspill at any moment.

You had been right, he adored the music you had brought with you, but he adored you even more.

You thought he looked at his feet because he was afraid to mess up the steps.

“Hey,” You said softly, taking the hand from his shoulder to lift his chin. “Eyes up.”

“Yes. Right. Sorry.”

A sheepish smile spread over his face and your heart beat hectically against your rip cage as his emerald green eyes met yours.

It took Harry a great deal of strength to not break out of the dance routine he had so intensely studied and kiss you. But your hand slipped away from under his chin back to his shoulder and the moment was lost, like so many others.

Staying professional was not so simple for you either, as much as you liked to deny it. You liked Harry, more than friends should like each other, but who could blame you? Harry was very handsome, with his messy hair and those green eyes, he was sweet and caring, and he was dancing with you in an abandoned classroom, his hand on your waist.

Looking at it from this angle, there seemed to be no reason as to why you were so careful to deny your feelings.

Well, there was one problem: You thought he wanted to ask Cho to the ball to make up for the Yule Ball.

Harry was pretty oblivious when it came to love. Neither had he thought about you as more than friends before sixth year, nor had he realised that the feelings he had felt for Cho two years ago were similar to the ones he had for you now, though they were much more intense.

The worst part was that you two had been friends for three year and since then, you had spent a week of every summer holiday at the Burrow. Harry knew you; he knew that you liked his crappy jokes and his sarcastic comments, but never before had his stomach tingled when you laughed at them. Never before had there been goose bumps all over his skin when you hugged him. And to hell, never before had he acknowledged how goddamn beautiful you were.

“You’re getting really good.” You ripped him out of his thoughts.

“Oh. Really?” He asked.

It would be brilliant if he could dance without thinking about it all the time, fearing he could step on your feet.

“Yes, really,” You replied, grinning.

“Well, I- I suppose I have a good teacher.”

The piano music faded out and you stopped in the middle of the room, slipping your hand out of his. It was a good excuse to turn around and start the vinyl again, so you did not have to answer anything.

Harry stood there for a second, gulping and scratching his neck. He should not have said that.

What he had said flattered you, but it was only a knife dressed like compliment, stroking over your heart to stab you right after. All of this was amicable, temporary, fickle. All of this was for Cho.

You sat the needle back on the record.

“What’s it called? The song, I mean,” Harry asked quietly.

“‘Il Reste du Temps’. The rest of time.” You walked back up to him and took his hand, leading you two into the dance. With his hand on your lower back, he pulled you a bit closer than last time.

“So, there are only two weeks left. You have asked Cho by now, I suppose?” You asked to remind your thoughts of reality.

Harry narrowed his eyebrows, not sure how you had come to the conclusion he still liked Cho. She was great, for sure, but she wasn’t you.

“Oh. Uh, not really, no,” He answered. Your heart jumped.

“Well, you should hurry up. You don’t wanna wait until last minute like last time.”

“I- yeah, I mean, I don’t- I don’t want to go with Cho.”

You stepped forward even though you were supposed to draw back and stomp on his left foot. His hand around yours clenched for a second at the sudden pain.

“Shit. Sorry.” You quickly brought you two back into the right footstep order. “You’re not asking Cho?”

“No. I wanna- No.” Harry stopped himself from talking any further. He couldn’t ask you. He just couldn’t.

“Well, who do you wanna ask?” You said.

Maybe it was Ginny. She was gorgeous, phenomenal at Quidditch and in the Slugclub. Nothing you could say about yourself.

Harry opened his mouth and stammered. “It’s, uh, you know…some…girl.”

Oh yes, great save, Harry, congratulations, He thought to himself, couldn’t be any vaguer, could you? For Merlin’s sake, look at her, she is completely confused.

You were pretty even when you were confused, with your eyebrows drawn together over your eyes curiously inspecting him – Stop.

“Ah, okay. The lucky girl’s a secret,” You said, laughing lightly. It was definitely Ginny.

“No, I mean, she’s –”

“It’s not my concern who you’ll ask, Harry,” You interrupted to calm him down. “As long as you ask her.”

Harry didn’t know what to reply to that. You really saw them just as friends.

The two of you danced for a while and Harry tried to memorise every golden speck in your dark eyes, every freckle, every curve, just so he could imagine you instead of the person he would dance with in a fortnight. If he would even go. Because what point was there to go to a ball if the one person he wanted to dance with more than anything else would not be there with him?

You tried to enjoy the closeness while it lasted. But the voices crowding your mind all shouted that he would never see you the way you saw him. That his face would never be so close ever again. That his hands would never rest on your body the way they did now, and never with any other intention than for the sake of learning how to dance, learning how to impress Ginny or whoever he would ask.

“Have you – have you asked anyone yet? To go to the ball with you?” Harry disrupted your thoughts and pulled you back into reality.

“No. I don’t even know if I’ll go,” You said and Harry’s heart dropped. “I mean, I’ll come to watch you dance, that’s for sure.”

Now his heart was way up in his throat, beating like hell. He swallowed and forced himself to answer. “No pressure then.”

You grinned at his comment. “Oh please, you can dance better than most of sixth and seventh year combined by now. You remember the spin I showed you last time?”

Harry nodded. He lifted his left arm and put a little pressure on your waist. You performed a small twirl before he caught you again, hand on your side. He smiled proudly.

“Really good.” The music stopped and you looked at the clock on the wall behind Harry. 8:57 o’clock. “I guess that’s it for today.”

Harry smiled sadly but you thought it was just your mind, playing you a trick. You packed the record back into the cover while Harry shouldered his back bag, handing yours to you. Then he held the door open for you, and you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

Harry had already pulled out the Marauders Map to check if the way back to the Gryffindor tower was clear. You weren’t technically allowed out after nine p.m. because of the new safety measurements, but it was part of the charm.

“Filch’s down on the first floor and Snape’s in his office,” Harry informed you.

“Okay.” You nodded.

Quietly and side by side, you two walked back to the Gryffindor tower. There was plenty of silence to break, plenty of time to ask you to the ball, Harry thought. But he was too afraid.

–

“It’s not that easy, alright?”

“Bloody hell, you spent every Friday evening with her! Half of our year thinks you’re secretly doing it in that classroom.”

For that, Ron earned a jab into his ribs. The two made their way through the masses of students down the last staircase to the Great Hall.

“Ow! It’s not my fault, you can’t open your mouth.”

“Oh, I can’t open my mouth? Have you asked Hermione yet?”

Harry was sure this would shut Ron up, but he was wrong.

“I asked her six weeks ago and she said yes, mate.”

Harry stopped in his tracks, stunned. “Wot?”

“Merlin, do you ever listen to me?”

Ron shook his head, walking to breakfast. Harry needed a few seconds before he could move again, then he caught up with his best friend. He was about to say something back when Ron’s sister Ginny interrupted them, wrapping her arms around both of Harry and Ron’s shoulders.

“Morning boys,” She greeted them enthusiastically.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was covered in a pale blue and yellow, the upcoming sun shining golden through the high windows.

“So.” Hermione poured both of you a glass of pumpkin juice. “How was it yesterday?”

“Mhm?” You looked up from your toast.

She sighed as if her question was rather obvious. “The dance lesson with Harry?”

“Oh.” You shrugged. “Normal.”

“So, nothing happened? Nothing you want to tell me?” She asked further.

You eyed her suspiciously, but she kept an innocent face expression.

“It’s not like we could do much besides dancing.”

Lavender beside you snickered and Parvati snorted into her coffee.

“Believe me, there is a lot you could do in that hour besides dancing,” Parvati said.

“God, no! Have you met Harry?” Lavender said bemusedly. “Like he's the type to have secret sex.”

“Still waters run deep,” Parvati replied, a smug grin on her lips. “Don't they, Y/N?”

Hermione crunched her nose at the suggestive tone as you narrowed your eyes at the two girls, shaking your head.

“Yes, keep making fun of my non-existing love life.”

You grabbed the strawberry marmalade, determined to ignore any topic concerning Harry. While you had lain awake last night, you had decided to bury your feelings for him all together and get over it. This would be easier once your dance lessons came to an end and the ball was done.

“Well, it does exist for everyone else,” Lavender interposed.

“And it would exist for you, too, if you would finally do something,” Hermione said, leaning forward.

“What?” You asked. “I mean, yeah, I like him, but he is definitely not into me like that. And I can't force him to be.”

Hermione groaned, and Parvati rummaged through her bag, pulling out a piece of parchment and making some space on the table.

“Okay, let’s see,” She began, “He asked you to teach him to dance. Big step for him, you know that. He always stares at you during Quidditch instead of the Snitch. Wood would've killed him by now. He always sits beside you. He definitely smelled you in Amortentia, regarding how he looked at you during that class. And since then, he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. He –”

“He does not,” You said, grabbing her wrist to stop her from writing any further.

“Yeah, he does,” Lavender argued. “Look!”

You turned to spot Harry alongside Ron and his sister Ginny coming through the doorway, and for one second, your eyes met. Then Ginny said something, and Harry looked at her, laughing.

You sighed and stuffed the rest of your toast down your throat to get rid of the sour feeling twirling and burning in your stomach.

“Well, Ginny’s pretty funny,” Hermione tried.

“Yeah, she’s funny and pretty and she likes everything he likes.”

“None of that matters because he fell in love with you and not Ginny,” Lavender said, smiling brightly.

“He did not – not what you said.”

“He did! The list doesn’t lie.”

Parvati waved the parchment through the air, and you snatched it out of her hand, drowning it in the pumpkin juice before anyone could read it. Hermione curled her lip as she watched the paper soaking up the orange liquid, sinking to the ground of the jug.

In the same moment, Harry, Ron and Ginny reached your table, and to your surprise, Harry really did sit down beside you, your knees touching shortly while he climbed over the bench. The sudden touch sent sparks through your body and filled you with a comfortable warm which was quickly extinguished by Ginny sitting down next to Harry.

You didn’t want to be jealous.

There was no need to compare yourself to Ginny, you were two completely different people. But hearing her talk about Quidditch to the guys and seeing her flicking her beautiful hair over her slim shoulder made it so obvious how perfect for Harry she was. You couldn’t compete with that, in fact, you didn’t even want to compete with that.

No, you would get over your feelings and maybe ask someone else to spend the next Hogsmeade weekend with you. Those evenings with Harry, those moments too good to be true would stay somewhere deep down in your heart, locked away from the real world.

The weekend left as fast as it had come, and soon enough Harry and you both found yourselves in your day-to-day school life, studying for an upcoming Charms test and writing essays for Snape and McGonagall.

There wasn’t much time to think about each other, yet Harry managed to glance up from his homework a few times to stare at you opposite from him, snuggled into an armchair while flicking through a book. He noticed that you captured your tongue between your lips or mouthed single words to yourself whenever you were so deeply sunken into thoughts that you forgot the many people around you.

The latter found Harry very impressive because he was never that relaxed if more than three people were with him. Your lips on the other hand found Harry... well, much more interesting than his homework was the least to say.

Every day he woke up thinking that today, he would ask you. But whenever he came close to ask, he changed the topic or was distracted by friends and classmates.

Even Ron had given up with his jokes by now, which was a very bad sign and a nonverbal way to say, Man, you fucked up.

–

You had decided to make the last of your dance lessons a memorable one. An hour of pretending, of being close to someone you know you would never be this close to ever again.

Therefore, you had asked your older sister to send some of your favourite records from home, which you were now sorting through in the abandoned classroom. It was ten minutes to eight and you were sipping a butterbeer to cool your nerves. All those times before you had been as calm as ever, but today you were on the edge.

The door opened and you turned to find Harry in the doorway, hair messy as ever.

“Hi,” He said and the corners of his lips jumped up into a lopsided smile.

“Hey. You’re early.”

“Could say the same about you.”

“Yeah, you could,” You mumbled, pushing the needle of the record player down onto the vinyl.

Classic music filled the air and you walked over to Harry to lead him to the middle of the room after he had dropped his back bag to the floor. With the high heels on your feet, you were almost eye to eye, your nose at the height of his lips.

For a wonder, he did not need your instruction to place his hand on your waist and pulled you much closer than usual.

Harry felt his heart beating in his throat. Being this close to you was galvanic, every nerve was burning, and then again, for the first time in two months, he was able to close his eyes and let himself sink in, to melt with the music, to feel the tact pulsating through his whole body. It was what you had tried to teach him all along.

And yet his tongue was tied. He just had to ask. Would you like to go to the ball with me? One simple question. You had told him yourself to not wait until last-minute to ask, and now with every minute, every hour, every day passing it felt more ridiculous. He had known that he wanted to ask you and only you to the ball, but every time he thought about forming the question, his mouth failed him.

Your eyes lay calmly on him, tapping his shoulder in time to the music while secretly trying to remember every little detail of his face: His prominent eyebrows curved over his emerald green eyes, his flushed cheeks and the dimples created by his light smile lying on his lips.

Harry had become, for lack of a better word, quite fantastic at slow dancing. There was confidence in the way he moved through the room and held onto you, mingled with a certain elegance and appreciation of the art he was participating in. A good teacher, he had called you. Well, regarding slow dances, yes.

But there was one other thing he had yet to learn.

“You’re really good, you know that?” You said, and his smile brightened.

“Yeah? Or are you just saying that because it’s my last lesson?” He asked.

“No, I mean it. You know, I wrote my sister last week and she send some of my vinyl discs from home,” You told him as the music slowly faded out and let your hand slip from his shoulder and hand to turn to the record player, not noticing how his fingers lingered a moment longer on your waist.

Harry watched how you sorted through the discs, not able to make use of their names in any way. The only record he had come across before those dance lessons had been one by a singer named Bonnie Tyler, who Aunt Petunia secretly listened to on repeat during the summer when Uncle Vernon went grocery shopping or mowed the lawn.

Harry wasn’t a big fan, which was pretty much the only thing he had in common with his cousin Dudley.

“Here. To dancing and a nice Spring ball.” Harry snapped out of his thoughts. You held out a bottle of butterbeer, which he took and snapped its bottle top off, regarding for a moment to say something along the lines like To you, for teaching me how to dance or To us, but that seemed a bit too much.

Therefore, he went with a simple “Cheers” and touched glasses with you.

While he took a big sip in hopes it would make him braver, you decided on a turquoise and pink coloured disc with a man dancing on the front, the words Footloose in ornate writing covering its front. He couldn’t help but notice the grin you tried to hide, as if knowing something he didn’t.

“What’s that?” He asked, leaning against the table beside you and putting his beer aside.

“That’s what the cool kids dance to.”

You placed the needle onto the record. Drums began to play a fast rhythm, mixed with an electric guitar, and you slipped off your high heels, now only in tights. Harry watched with fearful curiosity how you snapped your fingers in time, bopping your head with closed eyes to internalise the music.

Every movement of your feet, your hips, your shoulders was nonchalant, effortless and... well, simply cool.

“Come on!” You said loudly over the music, waving Harry closer.

“No, no, that’s –” He shook his head, heat flushing his cheeks, and crossed his arms.

“Yes!”

You danced up to him, grabbing him by his hands and pulling him to the middle of the room.

Harry had improvised a lot when it came to fighting evil. His whole trip to the ministry had been decided because of his gut instinct, because he had thought he knew what he was doing. Well, that was probably a bar example. He had made everything worse back then.

But everything he had done to fight off the hundreds of Dementors at the Great Lake, or the creatures in the maze two years ago, or Voldemort at the graveyard, every single thing had been purely and spontaneously improvised.

Now, he wasn’t sure if he was that good at improvising dance moves, but you had other plans.

“Come on, don’t you trust me?” You said as his fingers clenched around your hands, unable to let go, like a man clinging onto a life buoy in the middle of the ocean.

And Harry wanted to say back that of course he trusted you, more than he probably knew himself, but all that came out was a “Yeah” which sounded more like a laugh than an actual word because of the grin stretched across his lips.

“Just dance the way you dance when no one’s watching,” You said.

“I don’t – I don’t do that,” He admitted, feeling how his cheeks burned under the unbelieving look coming from you.

“Okay, then close your eyes and just – just do it. Here, I’ll do it, too!”

You closed your eyes, smiling brightly, and slipped your fingers out of his, twirling on the spot like you usually only did behind closed doors, and clapping your hands in time with the music.

Harry couldn’t rip his gaze off of you, the way your body moved without any shame, your ridiculous head banging while acting like you play the guitar – air guitar, that’s what it was called, he had seen Dudley and his friends doing it, but never with so much... passion?

You were quite passionate about dancing, much more passionate than you were about school or Quidditch, and it fascinated him. How you could let loose, could forget what everyone thought of you, and he wanted to feel it too, wanted to not think that everyone was judging him.

So, Harry closed his eyes, concentrated on the beat of the music and your hands clapping, and then he did what you had been doing: Moving his arms, his legs, his feet, all a bit offbeat, all much less cool than what you did, but it had the effect he had wished for.

He forgot. Forgot about everything going on, everything in the past, everything that would come. It was like the music had deleted Voldemort from his mind. There was only his body and those absurdly freeing dance moves he would have been ashamed off any other time.

But not with you.

“Hey, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, look at you!” You shouted over the music, and Harry ripped his eyes open in the same moment as you grab his hands again. He slowed his legs.

“You said you wouldn’t look,” He said breathlessly, very aware of his fast-beating heart.

But if he was honest, he did not mind that you had seen him. If he could choose any of his friends to watch him dance like this, it would definitely be you.

“I had to, I’m sorry!” You laughed, and the song came to an end. “Oh, I have something even better, you’ll like that!”

You hit him friendly in the chest and rushed over to your pile of vinyl discs, wrapping the Footloose back up and pulling out another one from a white and pink packaging with two people on the front.

Harry would’ve never believed that dance lessons would be more exhausting than Quidditch training, but he had soon been disabused. He took a huge sip from his bottle of butterbeer and watched how you placed the needle on the disc before reaching for your own bottle.

“‘You broke my heart – ‘cause I couldn't dance – you didn’t even want me around!’” You were mouthing along the words the singer was speaking in an overdramatic seriousness, holding your bottle like a microphone. Harry was grinning at you, afraid of what would come next. “‘And now I'm back – to let you know – I can really shake 'em down!’”

The music dropped in, and you shook your hips, hands on your black skirt.

“Now don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Dirty Dancing,” You dared as Harry stayed at his spot, and he shrugged helplessly.

You shook your head at him with a smile on your lips, placed your bottle away and pulled him away from the table until you two were almost as close as in your usual dance lessons.

“Okay, like this.” You grabbed him gently by the waist and pushed him a bit down so his legs were slightly bent. Harry’s heart jumped at the unexpected touch. “Good, yeah, look at what I’m doing.”

Your grip became firmer, circularly moving his hips like you did. His eyes jumped up between your face and your waist, and he tried his best to copy your movements while calming his heart speed down.

“Yes, good! Now, your upper body, look at me – yeah! Good, eyes up,” You reminded him, and he glanced at your face, his cheeks flushed.

“Is that okay?” You asked, stepping closer so your hips almost touch, and he nodded. You took his hand, placed it on your lower back, and wrapped your own arms around his neck, just like Johnny and Baby had done it in the beginning of Dirty Dancing.

“That’s good!” You encouraged him, and he grinned at you, his face bright red. “You know, in the movie, they have another dance with a lift.”

“You’re not gonna make me do that, are you?” He asked.

You shook your head, laughing. “No, definitely not without training and a mattress,” You said, slowing your hip movements. “Maybe after the ball. I mean –”

The words had just slipped out of your mouth without thinking about them before. But Harry smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of his forehead, while I’ve Had The Time Of My Life began to play, and Bill Medley’s voice filled the room.

Harry felt like he was on fire. If you wanted to continue the dance lessons next year it must be because you liked him. In some way, you liked him, and it was very hard for him to concentrate during this dance. And training on a mattress would not make that easier – Stop it, stop it, just answer!

“Yeah, okay,” He said, and your heart jumped up in excitement. You smiled back at him and grabbed his free hand with yours, leading you back into a simple dance routine fitting the music. Harry followed almost effortlessly, only shortly glancing at his feet.

“I’ll have to demand payment if we keep doing this.”

“What kind of payment?”

His hand on your lower back pushed you a bit closer, you were almost chest to chest. Was he... flirting with you?

Whatever it was, it made you speechless, and in a moment of incautiousness, your eyes fell down to his lips. You held your breath for a second as you looked back up into his eyes, slowing your movements. He returned your gaze, but just as you were about to gather all your courage, his eyes shifted to the door of the classroom, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

“What?” You asked, turning around.

“Filch,” He said and not far down the hall, you heard the meowing of Mrs. Norris.

Panic flared up inside of you as you saw the clock on the wall: Half past nine.

“Argh, fuck.”

You let go off him and rushed over to the table with the record play on top, shoving your vinyl discs into your schoolbag and collecting your high heels in a hurry.

Outside in the hallway, the scratchy voice of Filch mixed with the clicking of his cat’s claws on the stone tiles. Harry had grabbed his bag from the floor and fished out his Invisibility Cloak. As you turned around, he had reached you and enveloped you two in the cloak, standing almost as close to you as a few seconds ago.

“Have you found someone, Mrs. Norris?” Filch’s voice echoed through the hallway. “Is someone out of bed at night?”

“We have to get out,” You whispered, not very keen on getting detention any time soon.

“If we open the door now, he’ll know someone disguised is there,” Harry answered.

“How often have you snuck out of bed at night?”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards into a lopsided smile.

“Enough times to know what to do.”

The scratching on the classroom door reminded Harry that, despite the fact that they were invisible, it was still pretty obvious that someone had been in here. Harry flicked his wand at the ceiling light right in time – the candles went out and the two of you were coated in darkness just before Filch pushed the door open and the light from his lantern fell onto the stone floor. You held your breath, hoping he would leave again.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Norris’ red eyes scanned the room and the greyish cat walked up to you as if she could actually see you. Instinctively, you wanted to move backwards, but Harry’s arm wrapped around you, holding you in place. You looked up to him and he slowly shook his head.

Mrs. Norris eyed you for a few more seconds before she suddenly jumped onto the table behind you, walking up to the two almost emptied butterbeer bottles and bumping her head against them.

“Oh no.” Your voice was no more than a whisper. “I didn’t –”

Harry placed his hand over your mouth, forcing you to keep quiet.

“Sorry,” You mumbled.

Filch had turned away from the other side of the room he had inspected and was now walking over to his cat. With his arm around your mid, Harry pulled you two quietly away from the table he was now inspecting. You weren’t entirely sure whether it was the panic of escaping Filch or Harry’s chest pressed against your back, but the butterflies in your stomach were jittery as though they were on drugs, and your heart beat unbelievably fast.

Harry felt your heartbeat. He felt the pulsating blood in your veins on your neck where his arm lay, reaching up to your mouth. You were barely breathing, and he figured it was because he was holding you like he was about to kidnap you.

“Run when we’re in the hallway,” He whispered, eyes steadily watching Filch, and removed his hand from your lips to grab your free hand. You nodded shortly. Fortunately, Filch had left the door open, and in one swift motion, Harry had steered you outside.

Fingers still interlocked with yours, he began to run, you by his side. And despite the fact that you two had almost been caught, despite that you had been interrupted when he had felt most confident, despite the ruined moment, he felt light and free and happy.

You were clutching your shoes, slithering over the cold tiles in your black tights, and Harry, looking at you, almost missed the last step of the stairs leading to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He held onto you as he staggered, and you giggled breathlessly, pulling him back up.

“That – stupid – fucking – cat. Can she see through your cloak?” You asked.

Harry shrugged and ruffled through his messy hair.

“Don’t know. I think, but I’m glad she can’t talk,” He said, and a grin spread over your lips, which he returned.

He caught your eyes, looking at you like before, like there was something he needed to say – the tingling feeling in your core got overwhelmed by heart-racing panic and because of some sour mix of uncertainty and fear, you slipped out from under the Invisibility Cloak, taking a few steps away from Harry.

Not a second later, he emerged as well, fighting to keep the smile on his face like his heart hadn't just sunk so deep he wasn't sure if it was even still connected to his veins.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Your voice was too loud, too squeaky to convince him. “Yeah, I – I'm sorry, it's just been a long week and I'm really tired. I'm gonna – gonna go...”

You gestured to the portrait behind you, avoiding his eyes, and turned to escape the situation.

Harry stared at the spot where you had vanished into the common room, his fingers clenching around the fabric of his cloak before tossing it to the ground. It didn't give the satisfying sound he had wanted to make, so he sent a “Fuck!” after it.

“Young boy, that is not a very appropriate language, now, is it?”

His eyes flew up to the Fat Lady, who had apparently watched with great interest. “Besides, what are you doing that late out of bed? I mean I know it gets later on Fridays for the two of you but it's later than usual today –”

“Chinese Fireball.”

“I just don't know what you are doing during that hour. There are rumours, for sure –”

“I told you the password, now will you open the fucking portrait? Chinese Fireball.”

“Oh, fine.” She let the portrait swing forward. “I'll find out by myself... maybe visit some paintings down on fifth floor...”

Harry ignored the Fat Lady.

He also ignored Ron calling after him from the sofa in front of the fireplace, as well as Hermione's questioning look and all the other people staring at him as he darted through the common room and up the stairs, slamming the door of his dorm shut behind him.

He ignored them because the only person he wanted to be seen with had just left him standing in the hallway and he wasn't even sure why.

The first time you saw each other again was three days later in Potions. You had ignored him on purpose, which you knew was obvious to him: Leaving the Great Hall whenever he stepped inside, sitting as far from him in the common room as possible, avoiding his eyes... that did not leave that much room for speculations.

You didn't want to hurt him, you really didn't, but you couldn't be friends any longer, especially not after last Friday. You weren't even sure what exactly had happened – had he really flirted with you or had that been your imagination? Probably the latter. He had asked someone else the ball after all. Right?

Parvati nudged you with her elbow, and you snapped out of your thoughts, noticing the hole in your parchment created by your quill. The two of you sat in the far back of Professor Slughorn’s class, who was in the middle of telling one of his anecdotes instead of teaching about Veritaserum.

“What’s going on?” She asked in a hushed voice. “You’ve been weird since Friday.”

Lavender, who sat in front of you, turned around. “Is it because of – you know?”

She gestured towards Harry in his usual place diagonally across from you. You sighed, placed your quill aside to rub your hands over your face and shrugged. You had also avoided any questions from your friends about Friday, mostly because you could not even answer them yourself.

“I thought he would ask you,” Lavender whispered while throwing a quick glance at Slughorn to make sure he was still occupied with his story. “Didn’t he?”

“No,” You mouthed. Parvati shook her head.

“Man, you’d think he had grown a set of balls after all. If it turns out he just used you to look good in front of Ginny, I swear to Merlin –”

“Well, that’s what it looks like, I mean, he had enough time to ask you,” Lavender said.

Before you could reply anything, Parvati had grabbed her wand and leaned forward. In the next second, the blue Jobberknoll feathers on Harry’s desk burst into flames with an ear-piercing noise.

Both Harry and Ron jumped up, startled from the sudden explosion, and Hermione let out a little shriek as one of the sparks got caught up in her locks. Snickering came from the Slytherin table, and Crabbe and Goyle were stupidly grinning.

“Was that you? Stupid tosspot, I’ll shove that feather up your –,” Ron swore loudly, fists high and ready to walk over to the Slytherins, who had gotten up as well and were throwing insults through the room.

“Calm down, m’boys, no need to get abusive.”

Slughorn stepped between the two fronts while both Harry and Hermione pulled Ron back down onto his chair. With a wave of Slughorn’s wand, the feathers stopped burning and were as good as new.

“Have you gone mental?” You asked during the turmoil. Parvati shrugged and innocently shoved her wand aside.

“You’re my friend and if he hurt you, he’ll get what he deserves –”

“He didn’t hurt me!” You whispered angrily. “I was the one who panicked, I ran away that evening because I was afraid of what he would say! Not Harry. I left him like the idiot I am even though he – he was super nice and said he wanted to learn more –”

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Sorry, Professor, I was just –”

“Talking to Ms. Patil, I noticed. Could you still answer my question?” Slughorn eyed you, and so were all the other students.

“Uh...yes... if you could repeat it? Sir.” You said, and once again snickering echoed through the classroom, the loudest coming from Pansy Parkinson.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Parvati reaching for her wand again, and you quickly pressed her hand down to the table, awkwardly smiling at Slughorn.

“I asked if you could tell me anything about the usage of Veritaserum in court,” He kindly repeated and you straightened your back, ignoring Hermione’s raised hand.

“Well, the potion is strictly banned by the British Ministry of Magic, therefore they don’t use it during interrogations and such, which is also because, like any other potion, it’s not infallible. But I read that in some Asian countries, the accused can choose if they want to take Veritaserum before they give testimony. Unfortunately, in some courts they give the accused failed Veritaserum in order to alter the given testimony fraudulently.”

You had never read about that, you were – ironically – making it up, but Slughorn didn’t seem to notice.

“Very well, that’ll be five points for Gryffindor,” He said. “That reminds me of –”

As Slughorn fell back into his old habit of telling personal stories during class, you sank back into your chair and stared at the chapped top of the desk for the rest of the lesson.

Only the bell ripped Slughorn out of his monologue, and over the rustling of chairs, he told the class to read the next chapter of Advanced Potion Making until Wednesday.

“Courtyard?” You asked Parvati as to where to spend your free lesson.

“Yeah, but I got a question about that graded essay from last week. Just go ahead, I’ll catch up with you,” She answered and made her way to the front. Alongside with Lavender, you were one of the first to leave the Potions classroom.

“I wish I hadn’t picked Arithmancy,” Lavender complained.

“You can sleep longer on Thursdays, remember?” You said as you reached the entrance hall. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Lavender began to climb up the stairs to the third floor, and you walked down the hallway. It was freezing cold outside, but the courtyard was beautiful during every time of the year, especially in the early mornings when the sun melted the iced-up grass and you could share a hot chocolate with your friends on one of the benches.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

You turned to spot none other than Theodore Nott running up to you, his Slytherin scarf loosely around his neck.

“Hi,” He said as he had reached you.

“Uh, hi. Can I help you?” You asked.

“Actually, yeah. I wanted to ask if you have a dance to spare at the Spring ball? I mean, I know you’re going with Potter, I just wanted one dance with someone professional –”

“I’m not going with Harry,” You blurted out. Theodore narrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” He asked, a bemused smile on his lips.

You gulped and shook your head, crossing your arms. “I’m not going with... anyone.”

“Oh. Well, then,” His body relaxed visibly, and he raised his eyebrows, “do you wanna go with me?”

You opened your mouth, an agreement already on the tip of your tongue, but you knew that was just out of desperation and not because you actually wanted to go to the ball with Theodore.

“Hey, you know what, no pressure at all, okay?” He said, placing his hand on your shoulder casually. “I’ll be at the ball anyway, so if you want to dance then, I’m free.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Theodore. I’ll think about it.”

“You can call me Theo. Only if you want to, obviously.”

A grin crept upon your face. “Yeah, I’ll – I’ll think about it.”

Whatever Harry had felt the two days prior, it was nothing compared to the sour feeling circulating in his stomach now, like some dragon-creature spitting fire and tearing at his entrails with sharp claws. Inside of him, everything was clenching and itching, but on the outside, he was numb.

Like his brain had been disconnected from his muscles, wherefore he was only able to stare at Theodore Nott and his stupid, complacent grin and his hand on your shoulder while he asked you to the ball.

This wasn’t fair. How come everyone else but him was able to do it, how come everybody else had managed to find a date, when – to be honest – he had been provided with one of the best initial situations? How come the only thing he was apparently fit for was getting himself into trouble and escaping death every goddamn year? Harry had kind of forgotten about all that was to come, all that Dumbledore had told him, and the memory Slughorn was still tending like dark secret simply because of you.

The worst thing wasn’t that Theodore Nott had just asked you to go to the Spring ball with him. No, the worst thing was that you had agreed.

The only thing that was left for him was to run, which he did now: Up to the Gryffindor tower, tossing his back bag into a corner and grabbing his Firebolt from under the bed, then back down to the Quidditch pitch in record time.

Flying was one of the most freeing activities known to Harry, especially in the cool, fresh morning air with no one else around. High above the frozen grass and the wooden stands, much higher than probably allowed without any teacher near by, Harry paused to watch the sun over the Forbidden Forest.

He wondered if you had ever flown before, if you knew how brilliant it was to hover a thousand feet above the ground, far away from all the problems. Far away from Ron asking what the bloody hell was wrong with him. Far away from Hermione telling him that it was his own fault for waiting so long but that you surely weren’t interested like that in that tosser Theodore (though she would probably word it much more formal).

Time was relative up here, Harry had noticed over the years, so he closed his eyes and shut the world out for a moment. Saturday was still light-years away anyway, so –

“Harry, is that you?”

He almost fell from his broom.

With his heart still beating way to fast and adrenalin pumping though his veins, he turned his broom around to find no one other that Luna standing inside commentary box and waving up to him. Oh well. So much for being alone.

He steered his Firebolt down to the blonde witch and landed beside her.

“What are you doing her, Luna?” He asked as climbed from his broomstick. “Don’t you have classes right now?”

“Oh, yes. But I saw that you are sad so I asked Professor Sprout if I could go because I’m not feeling very well,” She explained and sat down on one of the benches.

“You lied to a professor?”

“Oh, no,” She said, looking at him with her dreamy blue eyes. “I don’t feel well when my friends are sad.”

Harry didn’t know what to reply to that, so he simply sat down next to her. Luna had such a strange, but calm energy, like a pulsating, pink bubble inhibiting her, and if you were lucky, she let you inside this bubble and you could shut the world out for a moment.

“Harry, why are you sad?” Luna asked softly after a while.

“Because... because I like someone who doesn’t like me back,” He said.

Luna placed her hand upon his, and he saw that she had painted her fingernails in every colour of the rainbow. Though that was probably Ginny’s work.

“I think Y/N likes you very much,” She said. Harry scoffed.

“Not the way I like her,” He said. “She just agreed to go to the ball with Nott. I saw it. She looked happy. And when I wanted to ask her last week, she ran away.”

“You know, first I thought you wanted to go to the ball with somebody else,” She said. “I thought maybe you wanted to ask Cho again and wanted to prepare this time. And maybe Y/N thought so, too.”

Harry looked up at the blonde girl.

“She did ask me if I was going to ask Cho,” He said, remembering one of the dance lessons.

“And did you tell her that you actually want to ask her?”

“No,” He admitted, burying his face in his hands. “I panicked... and now it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. You should still go to the ball, and then you should tell her,” Luna said.

“How? I can’t do it when we’re alone, I certainly can’t do it when there’s a hundred people around,” Harry said miserably.

“Well, then don’t.” Luna shrugged. “If you want her to be with Theodore –”

“I don’t want that,” He interrupted her. “Of course, I don’t.”

“Then go to the ball and tell her. I know you can do that.”

Saturday evening came around faster than you liked it to. Over the last four days, you had noticed Theodore’s eyes on you more than once during the meals or potions class, but it did not cause the tingling feeling in your stomach you would like his looks to cause.

If anything, you felt a pressure to talk to him and to spend time with him because you would go to the ball together. But you did not give in to that pressure and avoided him as much as possible, which led to you often leaving the potions classroom as one of the first.

To be honest, you were much more concentrated on Harry.

Harry who did not sit beside you during meals anymore. Harry who did not look in your direction but rather stared at his plate. Harry who looked like he had just lived through a very miserable week.

And you knew that was because you had left him standing in the hallway last Friday night. Maybe he had figured that you had feelings for him and that was his way of dealing with it: Distancing himself from you.

You wished you had not run. You wished you could’ve stayed in that abandoned classroom forever, your favourite song playing and his arms around you.

–

“What eyeshadow should I use?”

“The darker one.”

“Y/N?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up from where you sat on the floor in your puffy, ankle-long purple-pink dress. Parvati held out her eyeshadow palette, eyebrows raised as she sceptically eyed you. Her black hair was still wrapped around a dozen curlers. Lavender had spent all morning on them.

“Yes, the darker one,” You said. “Brings out your eyes.”

Thankfully, that answer seemed to satisfy her enough to not ask how you were doing. She and Lavender had already asked that over a million times, but you had reassured them that you were totally okay.

Parvati turned back to face the mirror.

“When did you want to meet with Nott?” Lavender asked. She kneeled in front of her trunk, pondering whether she should wear black or silver heels.

“Half past seven,” You mumbled, picking at the tulle of your dress.

Theodore had held you back yesterday after Defence against the Dark Arts to tell you that he would be at the Great Hall at 7:30 and that you were welcome to eat dinner with him and his friends – which included people like Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson; people you usually avoided by all means, people that had laughed at you for tripping over the last step of a stair, for not knowing an answer to one of Snape’s stupid questions, or for simply being Muggleborn.

You had never been less interested in going to a social event. All you wanted to do was lay in bed under your blanket and erase the last week out of your mind.

“Oh, come on, darling, we talked about this.” Lavender came over and squished your cheeks, brushing away a tear. “Today is not the day to sulk about some guy who doesn’t return your feelings. Today is your day, and you’re gonna have fun with us. Don’t let some guy ruin that. Okay?”

You sniffed and nodded, not able to answer because she cupped your cheeks so solidly. Lavender smiled and kissed your forehead.

“That’s right,” She said. “We’re gonna have some dinner and dance a bit and if by then you still feel bad, we can go back to our dorm.”

“And if Harry dares to talk to you, he’s gonna know what’s it feels like to be kicked in the balls with a heel,” Parvati added dryly. You laughed.

The Great Hall was decorated with yellow, pink and purple banners, and the four long house tables had been exchanged with much smaller, round ones scattered where the staff table usually stood, on each of them a vase filled with rosa tulips and white daffodils.

The ceiling did not mirror the night sky outside but a beautiful, orange sunset lighting up the dance floor in the middle. Opposite from the many tables, on the other end of the hall, Slughorn had organised a stage with a cover band. Next to the stage hung a long parchment onto which everyone could write requests.

You spotted your Potions teacher, dressed in a bright green suit, next to Dumbledore, his robes a terrible pink, both of them writing down their song requests.

“A Galleon that Dumbledore is a Spice Girls fan,” Lavender said grinning as she had followed your eyes.

“Bet,” Parvati said, grabbing three drinks from a passing waiter. “Here. Cheers.”

The three of you clinked glasses and took a sip of the red punch – it tasted strongly of various fruits, coconut, and bitter alcohol.

You let your eyes glide further over the hall and the people that sat together in groups around the tables, some of them already eating. Secretly, you were looking for Harry, though you only discovered Ginny in between Luna and Hermione, all of them chatting happily, and a few tables behind them, Theodore.

He waved as he saw you, gesturing to come over. You forced yourself to smile and wave back at him.

“I’ll see you later,” You said, chugging down the rest of your drink.

“Tell us if he’s being an asshole,” Parvati said. “Or really any of them.”

“And have some fun,” Lavender added.

You took one last look at your friends – Parvati in her silk, almond white, slim dress, and Lavender with flowers in her hair, their arms linked together – and swallowed thickly before turning and making your way through the crowd towards Theodore, though you made sure to give the table with Ginny a wide berth.

“Hi, Y/N,” Theodore greeted you, pecking a swift kiss on your left cheek. His eyes, however, were gliding over the room filling with more and more students. “We’ve already ordered some drinks, come on.”

You took a step back after the kiss, blinking quickly, then noticed how the other people around the table were staring at you:

Pansy and Daphne eyed you and your dress dismissively, and Blaise sipped on his wine, eyebrows raised. Only Draco was slumped in his chair and chewed on a gum, not wasting a single glance at you. He looked as uninterested in this Spring Ball as you felt.

An hour ago, you sure as hell wouldn’t have believed to relate to bloody Draco Malfoy.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N,” You said, forcing a smile on your face and holding out your hand towards Pansy, as she sat closest to you. “I like your dress. Matches your earrings.”

That compliment seemed to leave a mark. Her judging look softened and she shook your hand.

After introducing yourself to everyone (well, except Draco, who had only shortly nodded at you), you sat down in between Theodore and Blaise, and ordered something to eat.

Pansy and Daphne were huddled together the whole time, giggling and pointing at others, while Draco raised a complaint about every meal on the menu or really any other small inconvenience that had the unfortune to be spotted by him (“I can’t eat that, it has tomatoes in it. Nothing on here is gluten free. I’ll write father first thing in the morning. Pansy, will you shut the fuck up for a second? That’s not even a real band. God, I hate this place.”).

“He’s a whiny bitch most of the time, but his family has a great holiday chalet in France,” Blaise said to you after Draco had shot you an annoyed look for asking if you should ask the band to play a different song. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be friends with him.”

“I hope you choke on that disgusting wine,” Draco muttered, and you chuckled.

“Sure, darling,” Blaise replied, sharing a look with you. Until now, Blaise had surprisingly talked the most with you, and it turned out he wasn’t half as bad as you had always thought he would be.

Theodore on the other hand had only occasionally asked you how your meal was and how long you had planned to stay. His eyes had not held contact with yours for longer than a second and were still searching for something in the crowd, which was – by the way – having fun on the dance floor while you had not moved in almost an hour.

It wasn’t until a particularly beautiful girl from Ravenclaw strode past your table that Theodore hooked his foot around the leg of your chair to pull you closer and placed his hand on your upper thigh, giving you his full attention for the first time that night.

“Have I told you that you look very pretty tonight?” He asked, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“Er – no,” You said, darting a confused look towards the Ravenclaw girl.

“Well, you do,” Theodore went on and turned your head back to face him by stroking his thumb over your cheek before pressing his lips onto the skin beneath your ear. They felt chapped and not pleasant in any way. You cringed.

“Uh, sorry, but that’s maybe a bit early, don’t you think?” You said, drawing back and shoving his hand from your thigh.

“She’s gone anyway, Theo,” Blaise said. You did not understand.

“Who’s gone?” You asked, looking back and forth between Theodore and the others, who all seemed to know something you didn’t. Pansy giggled.

“Nothing,” Theodore said. His sweet voice had turned bitter, and you felt like that was your fault. He stood up. “I’ll get some more punch.”

The band segued from an upbeat song into a much slower one, and the light of the candles magically dimmed.

“Do you want to dance maybe?” You asked Theodore as a way to make up for your rejection, but he had already pushed past a group of chatting seventh years, not turning around.

You sank back into your chair, picking at the tulle of your dress again. Was it too early to tell Lavender and Parvati that you wanted to go back to your dorm?

“Girl, if I were you, I would get out of here as quickly as possible,” Blaise said. You looked up at him. “He’s not worth it. And he’s not here for you. So don’t waste your energy.”

“But he asked me to the ball,” You said weakly.

“Did he? Or did he just ask for some time with you to make his ex-girlfriend jealous?”

“He – well – he…”

But Blaise looked at you and you knew that he was right, that this was never about you but some other girl. It was always about some other girl.

“Excuse me, I’ll get some fresh air,” You said and made your way through the tables towards the doors.

The last time, everyone had watched him. Now it was Harry’s turn to watch everyone else try their best on the dance floor. He wasn’t sure what was worse; to be laughed at by the others while stepping on Parvati’s feet every other second or to watch not only Hermione and Ron but also Ginny and Luna, as well as Seamus and Dean dancing closely, arms around the other.

They all had no idea what they were doing, Harry could tell, but they were having fun anyway. He had never seen Hermione this happy.

“Oh, flashback.”

Harry looked up. Parvati sat down next to him on the chair that Ron had left over half an hour ago.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, taking another sip of butterbeer, and turned back to the dance floor right in time to see Dean kissing Seamus passionately in the middle of the room.

“And you are not dancing because…?” Parvati asked. Harry crossed his arms.

“If you’re here to make fun of me or to blow up my butterbeer, feel free to fuck off.”

Parvati chuckled. “Sorry about that. But seriously, why are you sitting here miserably after all those dance lessons?”

Harry tried to make out if she was actually serious or if this was her way to revenge herself for the Yule Ball.

“Are you kidding me?” He asked. Parvati narrowed her eyebrows, now visibly puzzled.

“No, I’m genuinely asking –”

“Well, it’s not that fucking easy to slow dance if you have no date, is it,” He said crossly.

Parvati gaped at him, but he was certainly not in the mood for this. It had cost him all his strength to not look for you in the crowd all evening, he did not need reminding of you not liking him back by Parvati.

Before she could say anything else, he placed his butterbeer bottle on the table and darted outside, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his suit and eyes directed to the floor.

Harry’s feet guided him towards the courtyard. The music played by the band wasn’t as loud out here, and the cold night air was lively in contrary to the sticky, perfumed air inside the Great Hall.

He kicked some of the grass away and walked towards the bench underneath the willow, watching how its branches weighed in the wind and thought how you were probably having as much fun as his friends, or maybe even more, considering Nott was infamous for snogging in various broom closets.

Harry’s stomach turned at the thought of that. He wished he had a time turner to make it right.

The moon stood high on the deep blue night sky, illuminating the courtyard you had unconsciously walked to. Grey clouds had approached, and tiny raindrops were falling to the ground, steadily drumming onto the roofs of Hogwarts.

On your way out of the Great Hall, you had caught a glimpse of Theodore sticking his tongue down the throat of that Ravenclaw girl, but to be honest, it didn’t matter that he was making out with someone else. It would’ve just been nice if you could have had a forewarning.

You thought you were the only single soul wandering about, then spotted a figure sitting on a bench. You were about to turn and search for some other place to wallow in your feelings, when you recognised the messy hair.

Maybe this was the time to make up for running away. Maybe this was the time to be honest.

Harry looked up when he noticed someone coming closer, the tulle of your dress rustling over the wet grass. His heart jumped and he forgot to breathe for a moment.

“Hello,” You said, voice echoing over the empty courtyard. “Can I sit?”

“Of course.”

Harry scooted to the side to make some space for you. You sat down next to him, leaving maybe a hand width between the two of you. The wide branches of the willow guided you from the cold rain.

“You weren’t dancing,” You said, staring at the grass instead of his face.

You would understand if he did not want to talk, if he just walked away. He didn’t owe you an explanation for why he had not asked you to the ball or why was sitting here instead of inside with Ginny or whoever he had asked.

“You weren’t either, were you?” Harry replied. “You and Nott.”

“No, he’s busy with someone else, so… no. Not dancing.”

“Oh.” Harry shuffled. His knee bumped against yours. “Well, he’s an idiot then.”

You smiled, not moving your knee away from his.

“Yeah…but I don’t mind, really.”

“You should,” Harry said, and he meant it. No one should be treated like that. “If anyone should be dancing, it’s you.”

You looked up at him. Harry was already watching you, and it filled you with warmth despite the freezing cold. There wasn’t a single sign of hurt on his face, just a soft curiosity lying in his green eyes.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, “for running away last Friday. I had to sort out some things.”

“What things?” He asked quietly.

“Some…” Your heartbeat sped up. Be honest, you told yourself. “Some feelings.”

“Oh.” Harry tried to figure out what you meant by that, but the way you looked at him made his mind go blank. “You mean you…”

“I really like dancing with you,” You said. Harry felt his heart beating faster than ever against his ribcage. He wondered if you could hear it. “And I wouldn’t have done those lessons with anyone.”

The music from inside the Great Hall was growing louder, overshadowing the rain; someone must’ve opened the doors to let in some fresh air. The band was playing a slower, French song and it stung in your heart. It was one of your favourites.

When you turned back to Harry, he was standing up. For a second you thought he wanted to leave, to go back inside, then –

“May I have this dance?” Harry held out is right hand, and you did not have to think twice if you should take it or not.

He helped you up from the bench and led into the middle of the lawn, the rain still pattering onto the grass and the stone tiles. It smelled strongly of petrichor, and you thought that this was much closer to spring than the decorations in the Great Hall.

Harry’s hand found its place on your back, pulling you closer to him. You placed your hand on his shoulder, tapping his skin with your finger in time to the music out of habit, and met his eyes, reflecting the moon light in them.

Had you ever told him how beautiful he was?

The two of you moved, swaying back and forth. Harry realised that he did not even need to concentrate on the steps, he knew them by heart. The closeness of you took his breath away, the way your fingers held onto his, the way there was little to no room between your torso and his. You were smiling at him, despite the cold and the rain. Harry felt his stomach tingling.

“What’s it called?” Harry asked quietly, not wanting to drown out the music.

“‘Je Te Laisserai Des Mots’. I’ll leave you words,” You translated, having memorised the lyrics in your mind. “I’ll leave you words underneath your door, underneath the singing moon. Near the place where your feet pass by…hidden in the holes of wintertime and when you’re alone for a moment.”

You paused and Harry’s eyes fell to his feet, not able to take your gaze any longer. There were words on the tip of his tongue he did not dare to say – afraid, to ruin the moment. He wanted to stay here forever.

“Eyes up,” You said, placing your hand underneath his chin to lift his head up.

More French words reached your ears; Harry figured they were the same sentence repeated over and over, but even if he had been able to understand French, he wouldn’t have been able to translate them because of your hand still resting under his chin.

“Kiss me whenever you want,” You whispered. “Kiss me whenever you want. Kiss me –”

And then, Harry let go of his fears and kissed you.

After all it still took you by surprise how he loosened his fingers from yours to cup your face, pulling you as close to him as possible, until there was no space in between, noses bumping against each other. Both of your hands slung themselves around his neck, caressing his skin and driving up through messy hair.

His lips matched yours, gliding smoothly over one another, smearing your lip gloss everywhere until all you tasted was strawberries and sweet alcohol. With his chest against yours, Harry was glad to notice your heart beating as fast as his did, though that was also because he really needed to breathe – not that he wanted to, he would have been totally okay with never breaking away from the kiss if it was always going to feel this soft and freeing.

It was you in the end that had to carefully pull his face away from yours, heavily breathing in and out. You brushed his wet hair out of his forehead and let your fingers slide over his temples and cheeks down to his neck.

“That offer,” Harry began breathlessly, tucking a strand of hair he had accidentally drawn from your pinned-up hair behind your ear, “about continuing the dance lessons…that still stands, right?”

Your lips curved upwards into a smile. “Of course.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said, mirroring your smile before leaning down again to close the gap between your lips.

#Harry Potter #Harry James Potter #harry potter x reader #harry james potter x reader #fluff #oneshot #my writing #angst #slow burn

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litgwritersroom · 3 years ago

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The Bobby McKenzie Alphabet

A = Attractive. What do they find attractive about the other?

SENSE. OF. HUMOUR. He can't be with a girl who's too serious. He doesn't have a type per se, he's not into the full makeup-gun look, but he definitely likes when his girl looks good. He likes knowing that every other guy in the room is staring at her, but she's with him. But for him personally? It's about her personality. Loyalty. Laughing at his jokes. Letting him off the hook when he does stupid shit. If she's a mindreader? Bonus

B = Butt or Boobs . Does he prefer his partners bottom or breasts?

Butt? Yes. Boobs? Yes. Thighs? Yes. Feet? Without a doubt.

C = Cuddle. How do they cuddle?

OCTOPUS. BACKPACK. Constant cuddles. Standing in line for something? He wants to be cuddling them. Doesnt even matter who it is. He's a hugger and he's very, very, very, very, very physically affectionate. One of his love languages is physical touch, and he loves expressing that.

D = Dancing. What kind of a dancer is he?

A good dancer, but don't expect him to be anything other than a little goofy unless he's a bit shitfaced. He's step up for formal occasions, and take pride in it, but never expect a sexy dance unless he's 100% completely comfortable with them, and they're alone, and up for teaching him a thing or two.

E = Equals. Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He can get overpowered by a dominant personality. It's not a relationship dynamic he would thrive in, nor one with a weaker personality, he needs a relationship of equals. Pushovers and doms don't work for him because he's neither, and he wouldn't be comfortable being thrust into those roles constantly.

F = Fame. How does he deal with fame post Love Island?

Doesn't go to his head but after a while he starts really second guessing everything. Do his friends like him for him? Does his girl? Do people actually think his baking's good or are they sucking up to him?

G = Gentle. Are they gentle? If so, how?

Bobby is kind and gentle; not a gentleman in that he does things because he is 'supposed' to or because it's a social construct (like opening the car door or paying for the bill), but he does them because he wants to, because he wants to take care of her, to make her happy, to see her smile, because he cares.

H = Hands. How do they like to hold hands?

Fingers intertwined, never letting it drop, swinging back and forth, kissing knuckles. It's a caress as much as it is a hold; a bond he never really wants to let go of.

I = Impression. What was their first impression?

"I am going to fall so deeply and desperately in love with you, it's stupid."

J = Jealousy. Do they get jealous?

Boy gets jealous, but he does his beast to appear aloof and untroubled, like he's too cool for it, but if it came to someone he really cared about, inside he is dying.

K = Kids - Does he want a family? How many kids? Would he adopt?

Yes, big time. Dad Bobby for the win. A deal-breaking question for him in a relationship. Certainly wants a few, but will be content with however many his partner wants and can have. He would 100% adopt, and when all the kids leave the house, he's got ideas of fostering. Forever wants kids in the house whether they be his own, grandkids, biological or no, or even just kids who are in need of some parental figures. He's having them.

L = Laughter. What makes him laugh?

Pranks, jokes, there isn't anything this guy can't make comical. He loves to laugh and he loves to make others laugh, so he's got the jokes on hand, the puns at the ready, and the impressions faster than you can say, 'hitchhiking dog'.

He thrives in funny and spends most of his day laughing or thinking of ways to make others laugh.

Also, he's ticklish. Very ticklish. Especially around his stomach and sides. His natural weakness.

M = Marriage. Do they want to get married? What would the marriage be like?

Yes, absolutely wants to be married. He views it as a partnership, he wants to marry his best friend. Commitment, loyalty, and understanding are some of his best traits and ones he'd want to see reflected in his ideal partner.

N = Naughty or Nice? At Christmas time do they spoil the people they love?

He's practical with his money, but on special occasions he might go a bit all out. For his s/o, he'd want to go lavish, but sentimental. He might not shower them in gifts, so long as the few he does give have meaning in them. Would very much get matching clothes or jewellery, or have them pair up.

Oh so very nice.

O = On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He wears his heart on his sleeve. And in his eyes. And on his lips. And in his hands. On his smile. If he loves her, he cannot restrain himself from showing it. He thinks no one else can see it, like it’s his little secret, but it’s the worst kept one in the world. If Bobby McKenzie is in love, it will glow brighter than the sun.

P = P.D.A. How comfortable are they with public displays?

Very. From holding hands to making out in front of everyone. He is a teenager about love. Try stopping him from keeping his hands to himself. If he likes her, he is a sucker for her, and requires constant touching whether it be her on his lap, their arms around one another, or knees and footsie under a table, if he can get away with it, he’ll try to.

Q = Quaint. What is their favourite non-modern thing?

Weird Victorian cakes and all those old school recipes that are just bonkers. It's become a novelty for him. Personal headcanons from Suzi is antiquing, that he enjoys the hidden treasures and imagines it like Aladdin’s cave of wonders; Bia is playing cards, that he’s a secret pro; and Em’s is him learning to do flower pressing which started out as a fun new cake decorating technique, but he fell in love with it.

R = Rainy Day. What do they like to do on a rainy day?

Blanket forts. He'll be building blanket forts. If he's with family or friends, loves to spend the day inside playing board games. Video games and Netflix (and chill if he’s with the right person).

If he were by himself, he'd end up baking up something delicious.

S = Sad. How do they cheer themselves/others up?

Canon that he likes to bake for people who are having a stressy time, otherwise it's generally just finding ways to make them smile again by telling an endless stream of jokes, doing impressions, or whatever else he can come up with to take their mind off of their troubles.

T = Talking. What do they like to talk about?

Anything, everything, whatever is on his mind. he just loves hearing the sound of her voice. he loves making her go off on one about things she loves

U = Unencumbered. What helps them relax?

Baking, but the ultimate destressing part of the process, the bit he truly loses himself in is the decorating. When he puts his mind to it, he'll be producing genuine edible works of art.

Also a good, decent cuppa. And a cuddle. Also if there’s a cupcake, too.

V = Vaunt. What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?

He's that awkward kind of showoff where he doesn't really believe he's that good, but he can't handle asking for serious feedback. So he's all bravado and is just hoping that someone else joins in to hype him up about it.

He would show off his girlfriend, the love of his life, giving her the world to be basked in.

Also, he loves showing off his bakes and his buttercream. Also, if you give him a guitar or a microphone or the chance to show off his impressions, he will take them with both hands.

W = Wild Card. What's one H/C about him?

He loves polaroid's, and taking pictures. He cultivates his Insta for his selfies and food pics.

X = Xylophone. What’s their song?

Songs that remind us of him:

Ariana Grande - Boyfriend

Cardi B - I like it

Cardi B - Money

Chloe Adam – Dirty Thoughts

Frenzal Rhomb - When my baby smiles at me I go to rehab

Hozier - Like Real People Do

Nick Jonas - Jealous

Normani - Motivations

NOTD, Astrid S - I Don't Know Why

Taylor Swift - You belong with me (Taylor's Version)

Taylor Swift - Jump Then Fall (Taylor's Version)

Train – Drops of Jupiter

Vengaboys - Megamix (Party Bobby)

Y = Yesterday. Does he have any regrets?

Canon regret is the cake he made for his mate's wedding. He sees it as a major regret that he didn't take the opportunity to hide inside and jump out.

Otherwise, missed opportunities for pranks. He for sure regrets his lame, lame clothes swap prank on Henrik and Rocco. Major also is his involvement in Operation Nope. Cringes at the thought these days now that he's got some hindsight.

Z = Zebra. If they wanted a pet, what would they get?

He would probably get any pet, but a dog would be his preferred. Though, he might not vibe with a fish. He'd see them as pretty boring, so unless he can do something cool and flashy with their tank, it wouldn't be worth it.

Prefers a fluffy pet to a scaly one. Won't stop him saying hi to Noah's pet snake (no innuendos intended here).

#litg #litg writers room #writers room #masterlist #litg masterlist #litg character spotlight #character spotlight #litg bobby #bobby mckenzie #litg season 2 #hcs

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

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Sing to me: JJK x Reader 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Mermaid AU, Siren!Jungkook, Prince!Jungkook, homeless!Reader, Romance, Smut duh

Wordcount: 5k (medium)

Tags/Warnings: okay so, spoiled kook, possessive kook, Theres literally an attempted murder lol, drowning? whoops, blood oh no, reader is hella fucking dense ok, biting, courting lol, fish boy is in love, whoops, anyways we got sexy times too, because in this AU fishboy got legs n all of that hah, unprotected sex because, guys pls this ain't supposed to he realistic, wrap it before you tap it folks, its also not all that filthy lol, blink and you'll miss the scene, honestly I didn't include much smut because yall nasty so you will ask for dirty drabbles anyways, not that I mind lol, k I'm done I think, wow mom I've sinned less than usual..

Summary: Help me love myself, and I might learn to love you as well.

Or alternatively: you save Jungkook from being killed, and he totally gets the wrong signals. But he's cute, so its fine. Probably.

Jungkook is floating.

He thinks about what lies above the waves, and cant think of anything he really finds interesting. The surface is littered in junk, in things humans leave behind without thinking twice about it. It's air is thick and stuffy, hard to breathe and never clear at all. It's crowded, with creatures who at the end of the day all look the same in his eyes. There's nothing exciting about the world people walk on.

Its boring, and dirty.

His own home is, compared to that, a kingdom radiating like the moon itself. It shines and sparkles, and harbors some of the most beautiful creatures ever to be found. He and his family, as well as everyone else, live in peace with nature down underneath the waves, existing side by side instead of trying to gain the upper hand all the time.

And he's reminded of the cruelty of man, when he finds himself caught in a net.

He's somehow made the fishermen drop it instead of pulling him up on their boat. But that doesn't mean he's free- he's still struggling with it, fighting it, but he cant rip it apart. All he does really, is tie the knots tighter, have them dig into his skin until spots are rubbed raw. He can't really swim anywhere at this point, gives up as he can see the last lights of his distant home fade into the distance.

Jungkook is floating.

He's slowly being led by the waves, by the love of wind and waters, as he closes his eyes. Its a pity, really; for a prince held so high to die by the mere hands of the poor, he thinks. It's upsetting him, very much so, but he takes it as it is. There's nothing he can do anyways, as he slowly comes into contact with the sand below. It washes him up onto short, the dry sand sticking to his body, waves pushing him higher and higher onto the ground.

He shivers, the cold outside air biting at his skin now unsheltered and defenseless.

He doesn't know how long he lays there.

But at some point, steps are heard on the sand. He keeps his eyes closed, doesn't care about what will happen next- he really just wants to have it be over by now, the ropes already painfully burning his skin at certain spots. He's sure theres sand in his wounds as something touches him- warm fingers, hesitant, and almost shy.

He keeps his eyes closed.

"My god, I hate humans.." You mutter under your breath, your voice hitting his ears, making him notice the way it sounds. He thinks it sounds very similar to some of his kind; sirens being blessed with voices sweet and enchanting. Maybe you were one of the strays who had decided to live on the surface for some reason? But your smell was entirely human, although much sweeter and pleasant than anyone he'd met before. And then, after a small short moment of pain-

He's free.

His arms flop to his side, and he breathes in deeply- finally able to fully move again. His eyes open, and adjust to the night for a moment, before they meet yours.

How interesting.

"Jungkook?" Jimin asks him, curious to what has gotten the young Siren so occupied. Typically, Jungkook would be watching the annual kingdom dances with at least some form of interest; even if it was just a glimpse of it, just to make his parents worry less about him misbehaving. But today, as the graceful dancers move around to the orchestra playing, the young prince is absolutely not there. At least not mentally. "Jungkook." The older one scolds, getting Jungkooks attention- his gaze hard and annoyed. "Please, young prince- at least try to pretend you're interested. This is after all part of our culture." He strategically uses his title as teasing- something which makes Jungkook snort without any fun.

"I really don't want to be here." He explains, and Jimin sighs. "I'd rather be at the surface.." He mumbles, being careful not to be too loud- but Jimin does pick it up, and so does his partner, Taehyung, next to him- now leaning a bit forward to hear better.

"Oh?" Jimin asks. "What could be of interest there, I wonder?" He teases, and Jungkook grows even more irritated.

"Nothing that should interest a whore like you." He says harshly, though Jimin knows he means no harm with it. Jimin is, after all, a man who enjoys the simple pleasures in life- which is why he can't quite grasp why Jungkook, a young man in his prime like himself, doesn't seem to care about whats going on around him.

"Hm, but I think she must be absolutely divine if you're willing to risk the wrath of your own mother just to see her." He says, and Taehyung snickers next to him, clearly amused.

But to both of their surprise, Jungkook grows.. calm. Theres even a glimpse of a smile on his lip as he rests his head on his head, elbow on the armrest of his throne. "That she is." He says, quietly, as he watches the young woman in front of him. He has to imagine you there instead, moving oh so gracefully to the sounds of his Kingdom's greatest musicians- dressed in the most beautiful gown he'd gift you. "That she is.." He repeats, a dreaming look on his face that Jimin has not seen before.

Jungkook watches you.

He enjoys watching you on your daily trips to the beach, picking up cans and bottles, and other things people throw away without care. You're cleaning up the beach, and he thinks its a very good behavior- he likes the way you always carefully scan the ground and sides for any garbage. He swims a little closer as he spots you squatting down; eyes lighting up as you pick up a shell he'd personally not care much for. It's slightly pink- but nothing he hasn't seen in his life. They're so common, and he suddenly thinks that if this already makes you happy, what if he was to bring you something else? Something better, something more worth your attention?

He feels a rush of excitement.

Dashing into the opposite direction, he makes his way towards the ground below, eyes scanning the ground as he searches for something. He spots it after a few minutes of searching, but when he holds the pearl, he hesitates.

Its not enough.

No, that's not what you should get. He's only paying back his dept, yeah, that's what he's doing. But what if he was overdoing it by bringing you something too expensive or rare? No, he should be smart about it, yeah. Start small, and work your way up he thinks, as he takes the pearls he's collected while deep in thought, and pushes himself back to the top, swimming easily. He hopes you're still there-

And there you are, dipping your feet into the water.

He looks at what he can see; only able to see clearly underneath the waves rather than above. There's a bracelet hanging around your ankle, and it looks cheap, he thinks. It only helps him by giving him ideas for his next gifts- if you would accept his first, that is. He's never been rejected before, but then again, has always rejected instead. Nothing had interested him to the extend you did. Maybe you really were of his kind, secretly.

When he slowly brings his head up the waves, you don't get scared, or flinch. You simply look, spot him, and smile.

He likes that expression.

He comes closer, free hand helping him onto the stone you sit on, his hand holding your gift eagerly pushing against yours. You understand quickly, and open them, and he smiles. You're smart, he notes, and it only adds to your qualities, he thinks. Dropping the pearls, your eyes sparkle again- as they should, he thinks with pride. You inspect them with big eyes, as if you've never seen something alike. He enjoys your reaction- and you nod at him. "Thank you- are they for me to keep?" You ask, pointing to them, and then at your chest. He's not fully fluent in human language, but has picked up on some words and phrases, since Seokjin had recently strayed- teaching him some stuff whenever he got bored and visited his younger brother.

So Jungkook nods. "You." He says, and you like the sound of his voice; fittingly just as handsome as the rest of him, you think. But then again- his kind is known for its beauty and enchanting voices. "Keep." He tells you, pushing your closed palm a bit closer to your body as if to underline his statement. You think its cute, in a way.

"Okay." You say. "I'll keep them-?" You ask, and he doesn't understand, until you point to yourself, and say a name- yours, he supposes.

"Ah-" He starts, pointing to himself. "Jungkook. Jeon, Jungkook." He tells you, and you nod, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Jeon Jungkook." You smile, and he grins back, slightly sharpened canines in stark contrast with his bunny-like smile.

He thinks its nice to meet you too.

"But you're a witch, aren't you?" Jungkook argues, staring at Taehyung. "I thought you were all so capable." He challenges, and Taehyungs eyes darken- quite literally, since sea witches do technically have black eyes- but conceal them, as to not scare off people. He regains his composure however when Jimins hand lays on his shoulder.

"Now now, no need to become huffy." He says. "He didn't say he can't do it- he simply told you that its not that easy." He explains, and Jungkook sighs, rolling his eyes. Ever the spoiled prince, they think to themselves.

"I don't care about that." He states. "Can you do it, or can you not?" He asks, and Taehyung thinks for a moment.

"I.." He begins, before he sighs. "I can. But, there's a catch, Jungkook." He tells him, and this time, the youngest of the group seems just as serious as he listens. "I can't promise that.. the result will be what you will expect." He says.

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks.

"There's a chance she won't survive it."

He doesn't think much about why you're so often sitting on that rocky structure close to the deep- he likes not having to get out of the water to be close to you. And you think, Jungkook is quite the interesting being.

He’s curious; that much you can tell. His hands rest on your knees, your toes sometimes brushing against his abdomen as he swims closer- face coming forward to properly look at you. His vision must be bad outside of the waters you assume, his brown eyes squinting in concentration until he huffs and let’s himself back into the waters. You chuckle, and simply take off your jacket, slipping into the water as well as you control your breath- his entire face brightening at your body now underwater in his world, finally clear to see for his eyes.

You’re pretty, he thinks, definitely prettier than any other human he’d encountered before. The clothes covering your breasts and private parts a bit dull and boring for his taste- but he’d change that soon. He smiles, happy, before holding up his finger as if to signal for you to wait before he swims away, elegantly and fast. You swim up to breath some air, catch your breath, until there’s a hand around your calf, holding, fingers running over the skin, signaling you to come down again. You follow his question, taking a deep breath to meet him underneath the surface; his excited hands wrapping something around your neck, before he swims in circles as if he’s suddenly got too much energy. You point to yourself, as if to ask if you can keep it- and he nods, wide eyes watching you with a smile that you can’t help but mirror.

You don't quite realize what he's doing.

He however thinks you know. You know that he's courting you, and you're interested in him. You know that he's just given you more than a simple gift. He only believes you're letting him work for it- something he happily does, taking on the challenge as always. He swims closer, holds your shoulders, as his eyes look into yours, his gaze happy and child-like almost. He's close to finally showing you affection- but you suddenly swim to the surface instead.

And even though he knows you only wanted to breathe, he can't help but feel slightly sour at the ruined moment.

"You're awfully happy these days." His mother says, watching her son in the gardens of the palace. "May I ask what has gotten you in such a bright mood?" She asks, and Jungkook doesn't quite know how to break it to her. He knows its not forbidden, knows it has, and does, happen each and every day it seems- but there's still fear inside of him. Theres still hesitation, even though he is not ashamed of what has happened- of what he has done. His mother however notices. "You know you can trust me, right?" She says, and he nods.

Its now or never.

"I've found a mate." He says, and his mother smiles warmly, holding his cheek as she kisses it in congratulation. "Its a human." He says, quietly, hurried- but his mother continues to smile.

"I have suspected as much." She states. "Your friend- Park Jimin- is not very good at talking quietly." She snickers, and Jungkook curses under his breath about how he wants to strangle him. Theres a huge weight lifted off of him however; finally having said it, made it very real to him, in a way- even though it was already.

Because, after all; you were wearing his kingdom's sigil around your neck already. He had claimed you.

He's restless the next time he swims to the shore to meet you again- eager to see you to give you the news of his family's acceptance.

You're late- later than usual, and his brows are furrowed, mood upset at your mannerism. You're usually always on time, always just as eager to see him he thinks- but this time, you're not there. After his anger however, he grows increasingly worried instead. What if something had happened to you instead? Oh what a bad person he would be to be mad at you for getting into an unfortunate situation. As guilt slowly makes his way into his body, claims his muscles, he moves to sit on the stone he usually finds you on. He tries to look around- rain on his skin making it possible to be out way more comfortably.

He spots movement above.

Theres a person he can't make out- throwing something off the cliff down into the sea, and Jungkook clicks his tongue in anger, already upset- but still curious on what it was the person had been so eager to discard. Typically, its tiny things or plastic he finds- but this is something else, he knows.

Underwater, he smells blood.

His pupils contract, eyes widening, as he spots the black bag slowly making its way to the bottom of the sea- red trail leading from it. Its not the blood however that makes him frantic- its the smell of it, of you, that stops his heart.

He gets you out the bag, his anger over the entire situation diminishing into nothing as he holds you close, eyes spotting the deep cut on your side, and the scratches on your face. Unsure where to bring you, he holds you close, brings you onto his back as one of his hands hold yours, your arms around his neck. He swims quickly to the only place he knows you can breathe.

The underwater cave is big enough for now, he thinks, as he brings your body onto the ground, out the water. He doesn't notice he's crying, doesn't quite speak, his native language of clicking sounds and little noises escaping him as he whines out for your attention, waiting for you to wake up somehow. He's been so invested in making you like him and accept him that he's got no idea what to do with a human. Are you cold? How can he warm you up? How does he stop bleeding wounds? How much can you bleed before you die? Are you already dying?

Jungkook doesn't know what to do. So he simply lays by your side, holding you close, in hopes his slightly higher body temperature can keep you warm.

"He's doing the best he can-" Jimin says, Seokjin next to Taehyung as they both lean over your body. Both witches are concentrated, already exhausted, but there's no way they're giving up on you now. Not only because you're important to Jungkook- but because no one deserves to simply die like this.

"I know, I know!" Jungkook huffs out, pupils turned into cat like slits- a clear sign of the absolute terror and chaos inside of him. "What if they're best isn't good enough? Jimin, I can't loose her, you don't understand-" He starts, but Jimin holds the younger one's shoulders, for the first time serious with him.

"I do." He glances at Taehyung. Jimin had saved Taehyung before as well- the young sea witch having been hit by a fisherman's harpoon years ago. Ever since then, Jimin had been attached to the witch like glue. "Trust me, I really do. And they're doing all they can to make sure she's going to be fine." He promises, and Jungkook nods.

All he can do is pray.

When you wake up, there's several things you notice.

First, you're alive. Having a raging headache, and your limbs and muscles feel horribly tender, but you're alive. There's also strings of rope tied to two rock formations acting like a clothing line, several blankets and clothes hanging from it. They don't look human-made to you- the fabrics and designs not something you would think of as regular. There's a bucket and several stained rags- now copper-brown with old blood. Its then that you look down, seeing your cut sewed shut.

You also notice its rather soft underneath you.

Its sheepskin laid over seaweed you notice- the whool soft and fluffy, and warm. Everything seems to be so thoughtfully placed, even some decorative items- you can spot fireflies casually sitting in a jar close by, and burned wood, probably to . Probably to make light during the night. You're tired however, so you simply lay down again. Quite honestly, surely you should fee worried about the situation- but then again, there was no one to miss you, no place you called your home anyways. No use in worrying- because deep down, you had your suspicion.

A Jungkook swims to the surface with the plastic box in his arms, he's careful not to throw it too hard onto the ground. As he steps out the water, he's sure to at least try and his his hands of most the water before he goes to check on the blankets he had brought this early morning. They've dried enough, he notices, and is glad about that, as he picks one up.

You don't have to be cold anymore, he thinks.

He's unnaturally careful for his typical character- his usual behavior quite the opposite as it was now. Now, he's making sure you're properly tucked in, as he notices your eyes watching him.

He freezes, for a moment.

Jungkook hasn't really thought much about what would happen if you were to wake up- after all, Seokjin had told him he was unsure if you were to wake up this early in the first place, and Taehyung didn't even know if you would wake up at all. He'd told his younger brother to be prepared for any reaction really; fear, confusion, maybe even anger. But you seem calm, curious even, and Jungkook decides to sit down in front of your face, waiting.

"You brought me here, right?" You ask, and he nods, eyes not leaving your form.

"You-.. hurt." He points to the spot where your wound had been. "Also hurt." His hand points to your head. "Brothers, helped." He informs you, and you smile, nodding at his words. He suddenly looks at the ground, mumbling. "I.. worried. Thought... you, dying." He tells you, and you sit up slowly again, keeping the blanket around your shoulders.

"I'm not dead though." You say, and he nods. "Thank you, Jungkook. Now we're even." You say, and he tilts his head in confusion- a mannerism you could only think of as cute. "I saved you- you saved me." You say, and he smiles, nodding.

"I-" He starts, leaning forward a bit, now way more energetic and lighthearted as before. "I- we-" He growls a little in frustration, and you cant help but giggle at his troubles- the chirps and clicks escaping him foreign- but somehow, they feel hazy, as if your mind knows the language, but has forgotten what it meant. He's trying so hard you notice, and appreciate. "You like here?" He asks, and points around. You nod, and he beams at you. "I made." He tells you, proudly so.

"I guessed as much. Its very thoughtful of you, thank you." You say, and he nods, happy you like what he did for you. Its not a permanent solution, obviously, but as soon as you're healed well enough, he already planned a new spot for you to come with him.

You just don't know it yet.

There's a weird feeling inside of you.

It's like homesickness, you think. Every time you look at the waters, you feel- sad? It's making you uneasy, and with every day passing by, it just gets worse and worse. But it's today, that you cant take it.

When you dip your legs into the water, it soothes an ache you can't recognize ever having. It helps your skin, it somehow feels as if you're breathing again. But It's not enough, you think- before you let yourself fall into the deep end.

You're floating.

It's like leaving a stuffy and crowded mall, just to stand in a park, fresh air after it had rained, and light breeze clearing your head. Everything is silent, but not at the same time- the water around you feeling as if you're being hugged, held. It makes you relax, makes you let go, makes you only exist for a moment.

You're floating.

And there's a sudden wave of realization that you're also breathing. There's no water in your lungs- or maybe there is, and you just don't feel it being there. Darkness surrounds you as you don't know where you are exactly- theres no telling where is where, no way to know if you're upright or not. Maybe you've died?

Did you drown?

If you did, it would explain Jungkook being there. He's swimming towards you with a face full of worry, as he grabs your wrist and holds you close. "I can't even let you out of my sight for a mere day it seems, my love." He sighs, and your eyes widen. Its almost comedic how his own do the same, focusing on your neck, as he touches.

You're sensitive, and shift away from his touch.

"It-" He starts, now holding your shoulders, as he begins to smile. "It worked! It really did- by the dragon kind, you look absolutely divine!" He laughs, and can't help but hold your hands, eyes roaming your appearance, as you don't quite get it- until you follow his gaze.

Just like him, there's fins now on the sides of your calfs, smaller ones on your ankles as well. Theres also ones decorating your outer forearms- they look like the ones you'd always see on goldfish as a kid. There's something alike to scales as well, but barely noticable. "I- what happened to me?" You ask, and Junkook smiles.

"You.. almost died." He admits, taking your hand and swimming to what you assume is back towards the cave. "You had been robbed during the day, and when I found you.. well, you know what happened." He says. "While you were asleep, we were thinking about what to do. There was no way you would survive as a human- so, a friend of mine- Taehyung- performed a ritual, together with Seokjin, my brother." He says. You finally spot light, glad to be able to have at least some form of orientation. "I'm glad you're adjusting so quickly, my love." He states, smiling at you.

You notice the petname again.

"Jungkook-" You start, as you both reach the cave again, sitting on the edge of where the ground of the cave meets the water. "Why are you.. calling me that?" You ask, and Jungkook seems confused.

"Why do you ask?" He questions. And you don't quite follow, until he continues. "You're my mate- I am only addressing you as such."

Your eyes widen. "Wait- we're-" You start, and its only then that it clicks in Jungkooks head.

"Oh." He says- the dissapointment bitter and evident in his voice. "You.. didn't know?" He asks, and you shake your head, unsure what he means. "I see.." He tells you, suddenly distant. "I.. will bring you breakfast tomorrow.. sleep well." He abruptly says, and before you can say anything, he's already gone.

What just happened?

"There you are!" A voice says, deeper than Jungkooks, but not unfamiliar. Taehyung had been visiting and bringing you food and nescessities ever since that talk with Jungkook. This time, however, Taehyung seems like he wants to say something. You look at him, silently urging him, and he sits down next to you, sighing.

"Does he hate me?" You ask, quietly, and Taehyung looks sad.

"He could never." He says. "He just.. didn't take the rejection well. He'll need time to come around. It won't take that much time- his mother is already trying to get a new partner for him." He explains, and your head whips around towards him. "I- you.. did reject him, right?" He asks, slowly. "You do.. not love him, right?" He urges again, and you groan suddenly, throwing your face into your hands.

"Oh my god I'm so stupid.." You say. "It all.. everything was so overwhelming, I didn't even notice what he was doing." You cry into your hands, as Taehyungs hand places itself onto your back, trying to soothe you. "I though.. especially after I found out about his status.." You mumble. "How could he want me?" You ask, and Taehyung sighs.

"Head up, little siren." He says. "He's still able to hear you sing, if you want to." He says, and you look at him.

"But how?" You say. "I have no idea where the kingdom, or anything really is. And he won't come see me until its too late." You say.

"Well-" Taehyung says, standing up, and holding out his hand. "-allow me to escort the future princess to her lover."

"How did you find me?" He simply asks, not turning around, as you float closer. "I'm sorry, but I still need time to.. get over-" He starts, but you don't let him finish, instead leaning into his back, your arms around his middle.

"I'm stupid." You say. "I'm really, really stupid." He shakes his head, but you continue. "Just because I didn't realize- doesn't mean that I don't feel anything for you." You say. "I just.. felt unworthy, I guess. Insignificant." You admit, and he turns around, holding your face in his hands.

"You really are not gifted with the mind of the dragons king, my love." He states teasingly, the glimmer in his eyes returning. "My status means nothing to me, if that meant I could not have you." He says, and you lean forward, capturing his lips. "I hope you know what this meant, at least." He teases, and your eyes widen, scared you might've done something wrong. "It means you love me." He says, and you chuckle.

"Good." You say. "Because I do."

Even though he thinks you looked like a goddess reborn in your white and pearl decorated gown from the wedding, he enjoys you without it, close to him, just as much. He's alive, he's feeling, he's in love, as his hands move over your skin, his senses filled with you and nothing else.

The sounds you make for him are sweeter than any siren's song he's ever heard or could ever sing himself. No member of his kind is as enchanting as you, he decides, as he bites and kisses the sensitive skin of your neck. Jimin had teased him relentlessly the entire evening and night by trying to send you sweet words, to which you didn't react- but that didn't mean that it didn't piss him off.

You were his.

His princess- and soon to be queen, one day.

And he's planning on making that very evident, as he marks up your skin with little bites, visible for everyone to see. He wants everyone to know, even though by tomorrow, the entire Kingdom will celebrate the marriage of its prince anyways. He's more than ready to show you off, to hold you close, to have people see the divine being at his side that's you.

It's only natural for his hands to roam your skin, for his lips to worhip every inch it seems, as you reach out for his hand every second it leaves you. It's painfully endearing he thinks, how you can be so innocent and pure, while he's between your legs, performing the sinful act of pleasuring you with his mouth.

You pull him towards you, as you straddle his waist, leaning down to kiss him. He's in god's divine lands he thinks, as he suddenly feels you sinking down on his awaiting length. You fit around him perfectly, more so than he could've ever imagined. And as you both move, he holds you close, happy that here, in his world, he doesn't need to breathe.

He can kiss you as long as he wants.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. I spilled strawberry milk on my poor laptop while writing this.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #Sing To Me AU

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just-a-really-tall-girl-tbh · 3 years ago

Text

Grounded

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped and forced to reveal secrets of the pack

Pairing: Derek X Reader

Warnings: Blood, torture, swearing

Word count: 2605

Original piece please don’t copy

The school bell rang for the final time that day, a collective sigh of gratitude echoed in the room, the teenagers grateful to be released from the maths teacher’s class. Gathering your books, you stacked them in a neat pile before exiting the room, offering a small smile to your defeated teacher. It wasn’t her fault maths sucked and no one enjoyed it, you did feel bad for her on some level but also who the hell would willingly dedicate their life to teaching numbers?

Entering the hallway, you made your way through the sea of teenagers, everyone desperate to go home for the weekend. Reaching your locker, you grabbed the couple books you needed, shoving them into your backpack, thinking about the homework you had due on Monday you sighed. The door to your locker slammed shut before you could close it.

“Hey, you ready?” Stiles smiled.

“I told you I can walk home.” You rolled your eyes, walking away from the boy. Surprised by your quick movement, Stiles jogged to catch up to you, throwing an arm lazily around your shoulders.

“I know you can walk home but why would you when you have me?”

Exiting the main doors of the high school, you welcomed the fresh warm air, the smell of angsty teens left behind you. Reaching the end of the pavement, you saw the jeep parked a few cars away.

“Stiles I want to walk.” You turned to face the boy.

“Y/n, you heard what Derek said okay? All these recent attacks? The break ins and thefts? He doesn’t want you alone.” Stiles tried to reason with you. Knowing the recent spike in criminal activity was less than likely to involve the supernatural, you felt safe walking the 20-minute trip home. In fact, you enjoyed the peace it brought you. Half of the walk was through the woods, a quiet haven from the busy high school, and being autumn, you relished in the yellow and orange leaves that swept through the small woodlands.

“Stiles. It’s 20 minutes. I’ll text you when I get home okay?” Stiles sighed.

“You know Derek is going to kill me if I let you, you know, that right? You like the idea of alive Stiles because I do! And I am not letting you be the reason I don’t make it to my 20’s okay?”

“Derek doesn’t have the balls to kill you.” You turned on the heel of your foot, headed towards the woods, leaving a defeated Stiles in your wake.

“I’m telling Derek you said he has no balls!” He called after you. You let out a small laugh, grabbing your headphones from your backpack, and your phone from your pocket, you scrolled through your playlist, deciding today was the perfect day for (Your current favourite song).

Entering the woods, you felt a rush of calm wash over you, the stressful week was pushed to the back of your mind, your thoughts centred on the surrounding woods. You stepped over exposed roots and around large bushes, glancing up at the sky you watched as the wind swept through the foliage, the ageing leaves dancing in the light breeze. The sun peaked through the cracks, determined to reach the forest floor, providing the perfect amount of light for your stroll. The floor of the woods had been coated in fallen leaves, leaving a blanket of red and orange below your feet. Taking a moment to stop and appreciate the tranquillity the forest provided you, you felt your phone buzz in you pocket.

Home yet? I’m this close to sending out a search party!

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head you began typing a response.

You need to…

Before you could finish you felt a knock to your head, your vision distorted, the soft sound of music playing through your headphones which were now next to you on the forest floor, was the only thing you could hear before everything went black.

***

Another blow straight to your stomach knocked the wind out of you. Coughing and spluttering you attempted to regain your breath, each inspiration hurting more than the last.

“Oh, you are so going to regret that.” You mumbled.

Leaning to the side of the chair you spat a mixture of saliva and blood to the ground, you couldn’t tell where the source of the blood was coming from, maybe your lip, or maybe the inside of your mouth. Too many lacerations to your face meant it all blended into one.

You raised your eyes to meet your rival, struggling to see through the blood you saw one man wiping his fists on an old rag, your blood coating his knuckles. He faced a woman to your left, who sat with one bent knee up on a bench. Her back leaning against the wall adjacent to you, a smug grin on her face.

You rotated your wrists which were bound behind you, the thick rope digging into your skin. Your ankles were bound too, tied to the legs of the wooden chair you sat on.

“You’re going to tell us what we want sweetie, its just a matter of how beat up that pretty face is going to be before you tell us.” The woman commented, as she played with her fingernails, pushing the cuticles back. If she was trying to look disinterested, she was doing a great job. But you were ready for this. You trained for this. You knew what was coming, and if it meant keeping your friends, the pack, safe, then you would gladly take whatever they threw at you.

The mans fist connected with your jaw once more, snapping you out of your daze. The room began to spin around you, and your vision blurred. Trying to recenter yourself you pulled at your wrists, the pain of the rope grinding into your skin giving you something to focus on.

“Alright careful there, big guy, we need her conscious if we’re going to get that information.” The woman stood from her seat, striding slowly over to you, before bending at the waist in front of you. She reached out to grab your face, but as soon as her fingers made contact with your skin you pulled away. A stern look, on your face made the woman let out a small laugh.

“You’re a tough one aren’t you.” She turned her head, almost admiring your battered body before her. “Too bad that doesn’t mean shit around here.” Grabbing your hair, she yanked your head back, exposing your neck to the room. Moving to stand behind you she held out her other hand, gesturing towards the man in front of you. Without a word exchanged, the man grabbed a knife from a nearby table, its blade glinting in the moonlight the small window above you allowed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea who you are dealing with do you?” The woman whispered in your ear, her grip on your hair only tightening as she neared the knife to your throat. You felt the cold edge, lightly cross your neck, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough for you to avoid swallowing.

Taking a deep breath in you closed your eyes. Grounding yourself was apart of your training, something that was drilled into you from the beginning. Breathing in again, you picked up on the different smells the room produced, sweat from the man in front of you, poorly masked by his cheap cologne. The sweet smell of the woman’s hair from behind, her locks dangling beside your face. The overwhelming metallic smell of blood being the most potent. You changed your focus to your heartbeat. Feeling it pounding against your chest begging to be released you pictured your heart slowing, its contractions reducing with every breath you took. Steadying your breathing was next. Cautious of the blade still connected to your neck you breathed in through your nose, holding in for a few seconds before releasing softly through your mouth. Repeating those steps, you were able to regain some stability. You were still in the same crappy scenario but at least now you were calmer. A panicking person is an interrogators wet dream. A calm person, their nightmare.

Sensing your self-control increase, the woman let go of your hair, moving the knife from your neck to the table beside the man. Standing before you once more, she knelt in front of you, keeping one knee up for balance, she waited for your eyes to open once more. Regaining the control, you almost lost, you felt strong enough to open your eyes once more. Staring at you the woman barely moved, she was searching your eyes for something, her expression a mixture of shock and impressed.

“You’re not afraid.” Her words barely above a whisper. Your only response was a return glare. A small smile creeping on to the face of your kidnapper. “They trained you well.”

Standing, she turned to the man behind her, whispering something in his ear before turning back to face you, her arms crossed against her chest. The man dropped the rag he was still holding and left the room, the sound of the door locking behind him.

“Let’s cut the bullshit honey. You have information I need. And I know I’m not going to break you, not by torturing you anyways. So, let’s try something else, shall we?” The woman began to pace back and forth in front of you, the small room only allowing her a few steps before being forced to turn around again. Your eyes followed her, left and right, before she stopped in front of you once more, still facing forward.

Taking in a sharp breath, she spoke. “How’s your sister doing?” She turned to face you. Refusing to let her know she was finally making some progress with you, you remained staring at her. Resuming her pacing she continued speaking.

“She’s what 5 now? Gosh so young. But you know what they say right? They grow up so fast.” Your eyes tracked the woman, more intently than before. This woman knew your family. Something that was always off limits when the pack was involved. Your attempts at shielding them from the supernatural had been successful, keeping that part of your life private even from Derek. And here this woman stood, threatening them. Threating to take away your motivation to make the world safer. Unfazed by your lack of reaction the woman carried on.

“Soon enough she’ll be going to high school, making friends, maybe even realising who her sister really is.” She stopped before you once more, bending at the waist she placed her hands on the arms of the chair you were bound to. “You didn’t think you could protect them, forever did you?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. No amount of calm breathing could ground you now. “Aw babe.” Her hand raised to your cheek, ready to wipe away the falling tear. You only pulled away from her once more, hating the way her skin on yours felt. “Don’t tell me I hit a nerve, did I? Sucks doesn’t it. Well, there is one way of ensuring your little family stay naïve to the world around them.” She stood tall once more, her voice now deeper, more sinister than before. “Tell me what I want to know.”

You had no choice, right? She threatened your family, your sister. You protected them from so long, only for you to be the reason they are in danger. Looking down at your lap, tears hit your thighs unable to control them you simply let them fall. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at the woman before you, a smirk present on her face which made it so much harder to say what you were about to. But the images of your sister raced through your mind. The way her hair shone in the autumn sun, the way her smile reached her eyes when she was really, truly happy, the way she greeted you after school every day by running down the front path directly into your arms. That was the highlight of your day, finishing school and-

Wait

You never responded to Stiles.

You never texted him back, and the kidnappers were kind enough to bring your phone into the room with you – hoping to get some information.

Your eyes moved to the door behind the woman, a loud crash followed by a heavy grunt sounded from behind the entranceway. The woman whipped her head around, only to be met by silence. She slowly approached the doorway.

“Adrian…?”

Silence

The woman turned back to you, unsure of herself. You only had a small smirk as a response. Before she could question you, the door busted open, barely remaining on its hinges, a rush of dust filled the room. Watching ahead as the dust clouds engulfed the woman, you heard a deafening roar followed by a petrified scream. Small thuds followed, as the dust reached your eyes you began coughing, the sudden pain in your ribs swiftly returning.

Two hands were placed on your shoulders, looking up you were met by two green eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” A worried Derek scanned your face, concern riddled him as he saw the multiple cuts and bruising before him. You could only nod, the dust denying you the ability to speak.

Moving behind you, he effortlessly cut the ties that bound your hands, then your legs. Using the arms of the chair to stable yourself, you attempted to stand, wincing when the pain became too much. Derek moved to your side, wrapping your arm over his shoulder. Carefully placing his arm around you, resting his hand on your hip he accepted most of your weight, attempting to make standing and walking easier. As you took a few steps forward, the dust cleared from your eyes and you were able to regain focus. Looking forward you saw the woman who threatened you, her back against the same wall the door was, her skin now covered in blood, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. Scott stood before her, looking down at the defeated woman, his eyes still red and his claws still present.

Clearing your throat, you stopped walking, causing Derek to pause and look over to you. You peered down at the woman, no longer in a position of power, she looked smaller, more gaunt than before. Her eyes showed she was petrified, providing some comfort to you after what she did.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” a whisper of a smirk present on your lips.

Proceeding to step forward through the doorway you were met by a panting Stiles, his arms stretched out in front of him, you couldn’t tell him to stop before his body connected with yours. You inhaled sharply, grimacing as pain rang throughout your body.

Derek used his free hand to grab Stiles by the shoulder, pulling him away from you, a small growl forming in his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry of course you’re hurt shit sorry.” The boy stumbled over his words, his eyes finally taking in the battered sight before him. He moved to the side of you not occupied by Derek, his help was welcomed by you, suddenly feeling lightheaded from standing.

The three of you began walking forward towards the exit of the building.

“Is now a good time to tell Derek, you think he has no balls?” Stiles piped up earning a death glare from Derek. “No? Okay we can come back to that.” You used whatever energy you had left to shake your head.

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bvccy · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!!! Hope you're doing great

Can I please have a mix between number 2 from the soft and 8 from the dark one

Thanks, lost of love ❤❤❤

Thank you so much, nonnie! I am so sorry this took so long, I meant to post yesterday but it wasn’t done. Also, the 8th dark prompt was requested just before you sent in this one, so that is filled separately here.

I tried to do the mix you asked for, and I took the liberty of writing this with Bucky (specifically 40s!BB), and I hope that it’s ok. It’s a bit of a more specific story, actually, that I’d wanted to write for a while. I also did a kind of first for me, because it involves Steve x reader as a backdrop 😂 Anyway.

Lots of love to you too, my dear! 💗💗💗

— PAIRING: soft!dark!Bucky x Reader • preserum!Steve x Reader — PROMPT: Asteria - gazing at one’s object of affection, from afar + Prassius - an impossible desire, and unclean love — LINKS: Masterlist • love stones prompt list — WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

It had taken long enough, and sometimes it seemed like it would never happen, but he finally found Steve a girlfriend — or rather, his girlfriend found him one. Dottie had exhausted several of her close friends and most acquaintances, but she knew how tired Bucky was of seeing his friend mope around, feeling like a third wheel, getting into trouble to pass the time. And honestly she liked Steve too, just not like that — but, wonder-worker that she was, Dottie found a girl that did.

She agreed to come on a double-date one night, and she and Stevie hit it right off. It was the first time Bucky met her too, and he didn't think much of the girl. Small, shy, not quite sickly-looking but not far from it, shoes a bit scuffed, clothes a bit too big for her and smelling of plain soap — in a word: perfect. She was perfect for his sickly, skinny friend who nobody else wanted, and by the looks of things, nobody had wanted her either because she seemed to have no idea what to do around a dance hall. As they were returning home that night, he even heard her confess to Steve that she had never been to one before.

They went out on two more dates, all four of them, within as many weeks. Bucky loved to dance, and Dottie too, but Steve and his girl weren't so fond of tripping over their feet and being laughed at. So they sat together at the table like a pair of broken toys, sharing an ice cream sundae, swinging shoulder-to-shoulder with the music when they liked the tune. Bucky waved at them when their eyes met, and they waved back and cheered at his dancefloor performance, but that happened less and less as they got caught up in each other. Steve would start to sketch things on the napkins while they chatted: the band, the sea of dancers, the fancy chandeliers, and eventually her.

"She said nobody's ever drawn her picture before," his friend said dreamily as they walked back, after they wished a good night to the girls. "Can you believe that?"

"Sure can…"

"She almost didn't let me do it. But she's so pretty, Buck."

"Mhm, nice girl."

"I mean yeah, she's no Dottie, but… I don't know, there's just somethin' I like so much about her… I guess her eyes, the way they look when she's smiling, or how her hair looks when the sun shines on it…"

"Get a load a' you," he grinned, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulder in a playful grip that moved his friend's whole body. "One dame's sweet on you, and all of a sudden you're Romeo."

"At least I'm not a punk like you," Steve teased, slipping from his grasp.

"You know what I like best about her?"

"What?" he asked, with a hint of jealousy.

But Bucky smirked without a care. "How she keeps you out of trouble."

It had, indeed, been a while since Steve got in an alley brawl, and by their fifth date his last few bruises healed. He'd almost gotten into one by a cotton candy stand at Coney Island, but his girl was there to pull him back.

"Stevie, leave him alone…"

"You heard what he said?!"

"Who cares," she sighed, clinging to his arm and throwing the other man a hateful look. "Come on, didn't you want to win me that stuffed teddy bear?"

"Better listen to your girl, pal."

"Oh go find a sty to wallow in," she hissed.

"I ought'a smack some manners into you, you two-bit broad!"

"I'd worry about my own manners if I were you, buddy." Bucky slipped between them, coming from behind, standing now close enough to punch the guy if things got heated. But, seeing himself outnumbered, the other man cursed them and left. Just then, Dottie finally caught up.

"What's going on?" she asked, a little out of breath.

Bucky turned around, and was met by the heart-melting sight of Steve and his girl holding each other, her hands on his cheeks as she quietly chastised him, but loving enough that it made him smile and giggle. She closed it with a kiss to his cheek that made the boy blush, and a kittenish rub of their noses together.

"Nothing, everything's fine."

It was around the time they went to see a movie together that Bucky's joy for Steve turned into something else. They sat in the back while some musical played, and through the flashing lights and the corner of his eye, he could see his friend with his sweetheart holding hands on top of her lap throughout the whole performance. Meanwhile Dottie kept rubbing up against him, sometimes leaning her head on his shoulder, daring in the darker scenes to kiss his neck, but when she tried to get more of his attention —

"Buckyyy, what's wrong?"

— he shook her off. Hearing his name spoken by her voice suddenly felt disappointing.

He caught himself staring more and more, and not just when they went out together. Sometimes, the girl came by and spent some time with Steve, looking at his newer sketches, trying her hand too — oh and how disgusting they looked, Steve taking advantage of the situation to sit behind, and wrap his arms around her, and whisper in her ear. The pair greeted him cheerfully when he stepped through the living room and caught them, and he grinned back at them as he took a glass of milk, but all his appetite was gone.

And when they walked together through the park, and he saw them holding hands again… When Steve dug for some change to get her an ice cream, and they giggled stupidly as they made a mess of sharing it… When she fell asleep by his side one night at the dance hall, and Stevie woke her up with a tickle down her cheek, and she shivered and murmured like a bird and hid her face in his unworthy shoulder…

"Why don't you ever wanna dance, doll?" he asked as they were fetching drinks.

"Not much good at it, I guess," she shrugged. "The fast ones make me dizzy and I always trip."

"I can teach you. It'll work out great! Stevie teaches you to draw, I teach you how to dance… What do you say?"

The girl seemed to think, but shook her head. "Hmmm… No, not right now. Thanks," she smiled politely. "Besides, what would Stevie do meanwhile?"

She told him no just for the sake of keeping his scrawny little friend company, and Bucky had never felt more insulted — not that she wouldn't dance with him, although that hurt enough, but that he couldn't remember the last dame that gave something up just to stick with him, or got into fights for him, or kissed his wounds away, or held his hand in hers with no ulterior motive, and he'd found a girl that did that, and he wasted her on Steve.

So what if she was a little on the smaller side? So what if her dresses didn't fit right? So what if she came down with the cold at every change of season? He put up with it for Steve and he wasn't half as charming. The girl, instead, looked very delicate, more feminine in her own way, like when she braced her fingers on a table as she talked and mindlessly swung back and forth, animated in whatever she was saying, and her digits bent in such a childish way he feared they'd break, and it only made him want to kiss them. Or when she took her shoes off when she came to their apartment and he could catch a hint of shapely ankle, just perfect for his grip, or a peachy pink instep small enough to fit his palm. And when she fell asleep on their couch that one time and Bucky saw her all curled up, and noticed the arch of her hips and the cinch of her waist and pictured how good it would feel to hold them, and angle them upward, and…

Slowly, he started to appreciate some of what his friend had said that night, because she did have lovely eyes, and hair that looked so soft and warm, and her scent, unburdened by perfume, was sweet and girlish, and her lips looked kissable, and her wrists and knees and ankles too…

"Going out again, tonight?" he asked as the blond boy fixed himself in the mirror.

"Yeah, she wants to try this new place we —"

"Alright, alright…" sighed Bucky, already sick of hearing more. "So, that's all you're gonna do?"

"Well… yeah."

And then he voiced an evil thought. "Don't you ever want to… you know?"

"Y-you think we should?" Steve asked, turning away from his pallid reflection.

Bucky sat sprawled across the couch, and shrugged. "If she really likes you, she'd be up for it, don't you think?"

"I don't know about that, Buck."

"No? Ok," he nodded. "After all, what do I know?"

The aftermath of this particular advice was a draught of dates for poor ol' Steve, because just like Bucky had expected, the girl shrinked at the suggestion and couldn't stand to see him. For a while.

"Can you believe it, Buck?!"

"Yeah…"

"She'll see me again!"

"That's great, Stevie."

"What's wrong? You're lookin' real dour today."

Bucky knew he shouldn't. "I just…" He knew that it was wrong. "Look, it's great that she's forgiven you, but you gotta be realistic about this, pal." He had been happy for Steve at one point, long ago.

"What do you mean?"

But that was before he saw just how much love a girl could give, and realised he'd never felt it.

"Just don't delude yourself this is anything more than what it looks like, ok? She's only forgiven you because she knows nobody else will have her."

"That's mean, Buck."

"Yeah, well… I'm just looking out for you. You're my best friend, you know that. I don't want you getting hurt." It stuck in his throat to say it, but the bitterness stuck more.

And after Steve went to bed that night, Bucky took out the box of candy and the pricey perfume he had bought for her, threw them in the trash, and firmly promised to himself to never wait too long again.

But as he learned a bit later on, when they went back to double-dates, he might not have had a chance at all, because there was an unwitting element of truth to this cruel tirade.

"I can't exactly blame you, honey," Dottie consoled her as they stood in line for the ladies room, not knowing Bucky was just behind the thin divider leading to the men's. "If he does something like that again, I know this other fella —"

"Oh no, Dot, please… We're fine now. He explained things and… he's really sweet, I think he just had a moment of —"

"But just let me introduce you to Jim, see if you don't like him better."

"I… I don't know."

"He's a real charmer," Dottie grinned, "and he has these big, broad hands, jaw like an anvil. He just broke it off with Marcie cause she was a flirt."

He didn't hear anything next, but the girl must've shook her head cause Dottie asked, "You're sure?" and "Really? Well, if you change your mind…"

"Thanks, Dot," she lightly laughed.

"I don't know why you're so stubborn though, it's not like he's that far out your league. You just need to fix your hair a little bit and get a better brand of powder."

"It's not that easy."

"It's all it took me to get Bucky on my arm. That, and a better set of heels," she laughed.

"Yeah but you've always been pretty, Dot. Like, really pretty, and you know it. I guess some girls are for the James Barnes of this world, and some are the for the Steves."

She giggled as she said it, with not a hint of anger or resentment, and that's what stung the worst.

Bucky arranged to go see a late night movie with Dottie after that, while Steve and his girl went back to the apartment to listen to a boxing match on the radio and have some cherry sodas. Dottie went ahead to buy the tickets while Bucky walked them home, and after wishing him good night, she went upstairs to set things up. Steve was meant to go to the store and buy the drinks, but he stayed to chat with his friend a while.

"I can get some eggs and milk as well while I'm at it," he offered, swinging on his heels with his hands in his pockets.

"Sure."

"Or do we have enough for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Go ahead and buy them, pal," Bucky smiled, pretending to be less tired than he felt.

"Ok. And what about — darn!"

"What is it?"

"I just realized, I forgot to give her the keys," he said, taking a hand out of his pocket and holding them out. "I gotta get to the store, can you go up and give them to her?"

"Er, why don't —"

"You know I always trip on the stairs when I'm in hurry, Buck, they haven't changed the lightbulb yet. Don't make me do it."

"Fine, I'll go."

"I owe you big."

"You always do," he grinned, and took the keys from him.

Steve made off for the corner store, while Bucky started the long slow climb upstairs. It was completely dark inside at that hour, and the few candles some neighbours left to light the way had all gone out.

"Stevie, is that you?" he heard her call, standing right outside their door.

He kept one hand against the wall and walked his way toward her, stopping as he heard her whisper, "I think I lost the keys."

Blindly, she moved her hand forward, coming right across his chest. He felt her jolt at the unexpected contact, then burst into a giggle. Bucky could already feel the fanning of her breath right at the level of his chin. With an unseen smile, he took her hand, and placed the keys within it.

"Oh," she laughed. "You had them."

As her hand closed around them his own moved up her shoulder, fingers threading around her hair, and as he touched her jaw he felt her tilting slightly upward, shivering under the feeling.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

He felt the warming tickle of her breath as he leaned close until, through the pitch black, he touched his lips to hers. Bucky did it lightly, just a little, just enough to taste and sip a kind of love he'd never really had. She stood surprised but took his kiss, and he felt her smiling into it, even beginning to kiss back just as he was parting from her.

"Your lips are softer than before," she giggled, in a sweet but altogether crushing way that made Bucky's heart beat stronger. "Stevie?"

Her hand moved through the air to touch him but felt nothing anymore, and down the stairs the heavy steps echoed, moving downward and away.

#James Buchanan Barnes #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #Steve Rogers imagine #Steve Rogers x reader #40s Bucky Barnes #preserum Steve Rogers #bv;answers #bv;fanfiction #bv;oneshots

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 4 years ago

Text

Twice Shy

Pairings | Preserum!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Warnings | smut, loss of virginity, fingering, implied oral (m reviving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Word count | 2.8k

Summary | you and Steve lose your virginities to each other

Masterlist

Exuberant. If Bucky had to describe the look in his best pal's face, he'd have to use the word exuberant.

When Bucky had suggested the double date, Steve had groaned - long and drawn out - but had relented with a deep sigh. His agreement didn't stop the man from dragging his feet the entire way there, though. A habit that Bucky had come to accept if he was to ever get Steve to meet a dame.

And this one, Steve seemed rather enamoured with. Well, that was an colossal understatement. Steve was completely and utterly besotted with her. The dame was beautiful, even Bucky could admit that. She was the kind of beauty that was often overlooked; it's innocence often snuffed out by the more...sexy girls that filled the dance hall.

Steve's hands rested on your hips, slender fingers curled against the soft fabric of your dress as he slowly swayed with you. You probably looked just as out of place and awkward as him, your hands tentatively rested against his shoulders as your eyes darted about the room.

"Y/n?" Steve mumbled, eyes centred on your lips. Your eyes snapped to his, baby blue calming as you bit your lip.

"Yes, Steve?" You murmured, starting to feel slightly flushed as the boy leant closer.

"Can I- can I kiss you?" Steve pondered, eyes searching your face for the usual disgust or pity that came with that question whenever he asked it. But he didn't find any.

Instead, you nodded. Sure and slow. Steve leant in, a small smile playing on his pink lips as he leant closer. The feeling of them fluttering over your cheek, plump and slightly wet nearly made you swoon. It lingered, his long eyelashes feathering against your skin.

Then, he pulled away. You dropped your hands from his shoulders as you felt your cheeks grow hot and your skin burn deliciously where the kiss still tingled. Steve stepped away from you abruptly, a pink flush spreading from the tips of his ears to under the collar of his shirt.

"Thank you, for teaching me how to dance." Steve muttered awkwardly, finally meeting your eyes with his. You smiled warmly at that.

"It was a pleasure. Goodbye, Steve." You mumbled back as you began to walk away, by Steve's thin hand around yours stopped you. You gave him a puzzled look.

"I hope we can, uh, do this again sometime? Maybe grab some food?" Steve asked, scratching the back of his neck as his body caved in with the nerves.

"I'd love that." You beamed brightly, your cheeks growing even hotter as Steve tentatively lifted your hand to his face and brushed his lips across the back.

"Until next time, then." Steve whispered and you bit your lip.

"Until next time." Then you walked away, and Steve sighed. Something caught his attention, a grinning Bucky out the corner of his eye. Steve breathed a little laugh, but the goofy grin on his face would not go away.

The next time Bucky dragged Steve out with him, you came. And the time after that, the time after, and the time after that. It was their thing now, Bucky often had a new dame on his arm whilst both and you and Steve grew more confident and comfortable around one another.

Cheek kisses were now a common occurrence, as well as Steve's skinny arm wrapped around your waist or his small had grasped in yours. He always had to be touching you somehow in public now, a claim that you were his and that everyone else should back off.

Your ma said it was unusual, that he was a) so skinny and b) that he was so possessive. But you found it endearing, it was just his way of telling others you were already his.

It was that night that Steve finally took you back to their apartment, Bucky having shipped off to England merely a week prior.

It was bittersweet, really. You knew Steve planned signing up again, planned on enlisting. You knew this was going to be his goodbye, his final hurrah with you before he most likely never saw you again.

And quite honestly, you'd made peace with that. The man you'd come to love was perusing what he loved, and even though that didn't seem to be you, you were happy for him.

"So where are you gonna be from this time?" You pondered as Steve fiddled with the key, finally jamming the cool metal into the lock. He hummed as he turned the key, the door sliding open as he tilted his head in thought.

"I was thinkin' Jersey, but I'm not quite sure yet." Steve remarked as he strolled into the small flat, you closely on his heels as the keys were thrown onto a brittle-looking table with a jingling clang. "I just wan' to get out there, ya know? Men like Bucky are riskin' their lives and I'm here, unscathed. It doesn't seem right."

You nodded solemnly, but the bright smile still stayed firm on your lips as Steve led you through the small apartment.

"I just hope I can be in the 107th, you know? Fight with Buck and just make my dad proud." Steve sighed, bordering on dreamily as he flopped down on the sofa - which was clearly in need for some heavy TLC.

You stood awkwardly, hands clasped in front of you as Steve twiddled his thumbs in his lap.

"I just hope that we win, is all." He finished and you gave him a bright smile.

"Well, they won't without you, soldier." You hummed and Steve's baby blue eyes peered up at you through thick lashes.

"You think so?" He pondered and you placed a gentle hand on his cheek.

"Truly. Our country needs a little guy - someone who will fight for those over there rather than those he had at home. As much as we're struggling..."

"There's men dying and no one seems to care." Steve finished your sentence and you nodded.

"Exactly." You muttered as you perched yourself of the sofa beside his skinny frame.

"Can I kiss you?" Steve's low voice mumbled, eyes flicking precariously between your lips and your eyes. Your breathing shallowed, and your heat slipped a beat.

"You know you don't have to ask anymore, soldier." You murmured, turning your face slightly to the side to giving him access to your cheek. But thin fingers grasped your chin in a soft hold, tilting your head back towards Steve as an amused glint flashed in his eyes.

"That's not what I'm asking." Steve's voice rumbled.

"Oh." You paused, hope glimmering in your eyes and Steve couldn't help himself.

His lips were soft against yours, if not a little chapped. It was a little messy, clumsy perhaps, but to you it was perfect. When you pulled away, Steve's lips were spread into a gleeful grin, eyes alight with joy.

"That was..."

"Awful." Steve cut you off and you were both set into spinning fits of laughter. You fell back against the sofa, hands clutched over your stomachs as your wriggled.

"I'm sorry. There are probably better first kisses than me." You said once you began to calm down, wiping the little tear that'd escaped from your cheek.

"You're the only girl I want to kiss." Steve whispered, head lolling to the side to look at you again. You swallowed thickly, eyes finding his lips again - slightly swollen from your disaster of a kiss.

You stumbled back together, knees caving as the backs bumped into the mattress. You and Steve fell together, arms still wrapped around one-another as you both giggled, his lips pecking against yours repeatedly.

You pulled Steve into a longer, deeper kiss - hands cupping his cheeks as his supported himself over you on the bed.

"How should we...start?" You mumbled against his lips, pulling away slightly and opening your eyes to find baby blue gazing down on you lovingly.

"Buck said I need to get you wet? But I'm not sure how I'm meant to, uh, do that?" Steve said doubtfully, both of you bursting back into giggles again as Steve's head dropped to rest in the crook of your neck.

"Maybe you're supposed to use your fingers?" You suggested, lifting a hand and wiggling your fingers. Steve blew a raspberry into your neck as he laughed, your own head through back as you wriggled beneath him with laughter.

The goofiness seemed to cease for a moment as Steve took his head from your neck, meeting your eyes with a soft stare.

"Are you sure about this?" He murmured, eyes loving. You nodded, lip trapped between your teeth.

"Yes." Steve sighed, ducking his head for a moment.

"But are you really sure? I mean, you'd be losing your virginity to, well," Steve looked down at himself, scrawny and small, "me."

You giggled, rubbing your fingers through his blonde locks, manoeuvring them away from his face.

"Of course I want it to be you, I wouldn't be here if I didn't, silly." You expressed, placing a quick kiss to his lips before looking up at the man through your lashes.

"I just need to know you're sure about this, doll." Steve mumbled, gaze burning your skin.

"I'm sure. D'ya know why?" You murmured, and Steve shook his head. "Because I love you." You uttered the words for the first time.

Steve's head snapped up. He couldn't believe it. He never thought he'd ever hear those words falling from a dame's lips, not about him.

"Y-you mean it?" He whispered, voice cracking. You nodded.

"Every word." Steve's heart swelled, his lips spreading gorgeously into a sweet smile.

"I love you too, y/n." Steve beamed, and his lips were on yours again. It was clumsy, sort of messy with inexperience but it was all you wanted in that moment.

Steve's slim fingers began to trail down your body, hiking your skirt around your waist so he could finger the band of your underwear.

"And you're sure about this? We can wait if you're not ready..." Steve asked again, browsed raised.

"Are you sure it isn't you that's not sure? It's fine if you're not Steve, we can wait until you're ready." You countered pulling back from him. Your thumb smoothed over his cheek, a touch that he nuzzled into.

"I'm sure, just a little nervous is all." Steve reassured. You smiled and pecked his lips.

"Wanna know a secret?" You whispered against his mouth and Steve nodded, a small movement. "I am too."

With that you were both laughing again, your legs kicking as Steve's fingers tickled over the inside of your thigh.

"Steve! Steve stop! It tickles!" You panted and gasped through your laughter, Steve's lips curled into something of a triumphant smile against your neck as he slowed his fingers.

"Mmmm, only because I love ya." Steve murmured, placing a kiss to the base on your neck before pulling away enough to help you take your blouse and skirt off.

He froze, ogling your body as his eyes flickered over your brassiere, your heaving chest, your panties, your slightly spread thighs.

"You're so gorgeous, sweetheart." Steve murmured and you giggled.

"C'mere." You mumbled, hooking your fingers into the collar of Steve's shirt and pulling him down on top of you again. He squeaked in surprise, but soon a breathy chuckle was slipping through his lips and onto yours.

You moaned when his fingers tugged down your panties, tracing your lips. He was mesmerised, eyes wide as he watched himself play with your folds.

"Steve!" You moaned when his fingers fluttered over your clit, your thighs snapping shut and your back arching. He pulled away instantly, worry in his beautiful eyes.

"Did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong?" His voice was panicked, filled with the dread of hurting his best girl. You shook your head, taking his hand in one of yours and guiding his fingers back to the same spot.

"No. It felt good. S'good!" You were moaning again, his fingers finding their way over your clit again in little circles.

You pulled away, lips shiny with spit and precum as your tongue smoothed over then. You moaned at the taste of him, Steve's musky sent lingering on your tongue.

"Where did you learn that?" Steve was breathy, voice merely a pant as his chest rose and fell rapidly. His face was red, pleasure still warped over his perfect features as his elbows propped up his thin frame. You smirked, lips curling up as your wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Bucky teaches you about women, Angie teaches me about men." You hummed, placing a chaste kiss to each of Steve's hip bones before crawling over him.

"Well you're very good at it." Steve gasped, eyes sliding shut when he felt your lips on his. You giggled, the laugh flirtatious when you felt his hands on your hips.

He flipped you over, rolling across the bed in the limited space it offered as you both laughed. He placed small pecks all over your face, lips brushing lovingly over your forehead, your cheeks, your chin, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips.

You deepened the kiss, lips locking as your arms secured around his neck. Your hips jumped a little when you felt his tip bump your clit, still slightly sensitive from the orgasm he pulled from you with his fingers. You squirmed, Steve smirking against your lips.

"Steve, please, I need you inside me." Your lips formed a round the words desperately as he pulled away. His face dropped into seriousness, eyes glinting with question.

"Are you sure, doll? We can stop if you need to." You loved how sweet he was, how caring he was. You shook your head, lip tucking between your teeth.

"Please." You repeated, hand cupping his cheek as Steve nuzzled against your touch.

"Okay." He brought a hand down, tickling from your throat to your stomach as he did so. You wriggled beneath him, shrieking with laughter as he chuckled.

You settled once he stopped, nothing but love in your eyes as you watched the way the little crease appeared between his brows, which were furrowed in concentration as he lined himself up with you.

You both moaned when he pushed forwards, hips snug against yours as his length filled you up. His size was impressive for his body, the slim man hiding a good 7 inches.

Steve stilled, breath heavy as you panted against each other's mouths. You could feel the stretch, the slight burn tingling through your walls as you whimpered.

"You okay? Should I- should I stop? I can just pull out gently, it's no big dea-" Steve began to ramble worry in his face as he began to sit back, his length slowly sliding out of you.

"No. No, I'm fine. Just, give me a minute?" You mumbled, eyes pleading with his as Steve let himself slide back in to the hilt.

"Yeah, okay. Okay. As long as I'm not hurting you." Steve whispered, placing a delicate kiss to your hair line. After a moment you wiggled your hips, the feeling of Steve's damp lips resting against your slightly-sweaty forehead and his cock seated within you becoming too much.

"You can move now." You mumbled, and Steve smiled.

"You sure, princess?" He double checked, only starting to slide out of you when you nodded again.

The pace was slow, loving. Heavy breaths and pants were shared between open mouths; hair stuck to skin with sweat; broken moans hung low in the air.

"Oh, Steve!" You cried out when his fingers started fiddling with your clit again, your hips attempting to thrust up against his.

"Is that the right spot, sweetheart?" Steve asked, but he clearly knew it was by the way your eyes had disappeared into your skull. He kept up the little ministrations, rubbing until he felt you on the precipice of another orgasm.

"Please, Steve, more." Your demand made him smirk, the man picking up the pace just a little until you were writhing beneath him, hands clutching his small shoulders.

Somehow, it hit you like a ton of bricks, your walls fluttered and Steve's eyes widened. He quickly pulled out, letting his fingers pull you through your release as little white spots speckled your vision.

Steve's other hand moved to his length, rubbing up and down as fast as he could before he was releasing himself onto your stomach, a plane of white on perfect skin.

"Wow." You breathed and Steve couldn't hold back his laugh, the man collapsing on top of you and letting his head rest on your neck.

His laughter vibrates against your skin, your own joining his in a melody of joy as your hands smoothed through his now-damp hair.

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