Shakespeare one shots

Swords and flirting

Okay. I'm on a writing spree lately, and I intend to milk it for as long as possible. Here is a product of said writing spree. Less than a thousand words, but eh.

Disclaimer: I have trouble entirely shipping Mercutio with anyone because of my general attachment to him. If I wind up writing x readers, you can expect a significant amount of Mercutio. What I'm trying to say is that I won't do Mercutio x Benvolio (or anyone) very often.

Another disclaimer: it's been a long time since I read this play. Don't be too upset when I butcher all the characters. (All but my Mercutio, of course.)

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~ Mercutio's PoV ~

I panted, desperately trying to get a hit through Benvolio's excellent swordsmanship. We'd been training in the courtyard for hours and I had yet to win a sparring match.

I huffed as my sword was knocked out of my hand yet again. Benvolio held the dulled tip of his weapon to my neck, not even trying to hide his smirk.

"You're dead," he hummed.

"Oh, shut up," I scoffed, plucking my sword from the dusty ground. "Show me that disarming move again."

Benvolio stood next to me as I flicked my wrist like he'd shown me. He shook his head slightly, angling my sword upward.

"Look, you're curling your finger over the hilt right there. If you keep it flush with the rest of your hand, the spin should be smoother."

I tried the move again, drawing a perfect circle in the air with the tip of the foil. He'd been right. A firm grip on the hilt hindered the downward curve of the shape, turning it into more of a crescent.

"Good!" He grinned, picking up his sword. "Now try it on a real target."

Before I had even gotten into a fighting stance, Benvolio had aimed a quick jab at my stomach. Caught off guard and suddenly unbalanced, I stumbled sideways.

My sparring partner seemed to notice that my center of gravity was off. He sheathed his sword and sidestepped, sticking his foot out and catching mine as I tried to get my shoulders aligned with my feet once more.

I let out a yelp as I tumbled to the ground, eliciting a hearty laugh from the evil man who had tripped me.

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist," Benvolio snickered. I rolled my eyes.

"Forgive me?" he pouted, holding out a hand to help me up. I was considering pushing it aside, but then made the mistake of looking up at him. I could never resist his puppy eyes.

"You're forgiven, but I'd like to see how proficient you are without a foil."

Ducking my head into the shed, I pulled out two long, wooden broomsticks. Benvolio shot me a confused look as I tossed one to him.

He caught it easily, feeling up and down it for splinters. Finding none, he shrugged and shifted into a fighting stance.

I took a breath to center myself, then launched a flurry of attacks at him. He managed to block them all, but I saw a bead of sweat trickle down his face and he wasn't wearing that goddamn smirk.

Suddenly, I switched to a defensive role. I shuffled backwards as Benvolio began swinging at me. From time to time he'd do a little spin and continue the attack, which I found both amusing and adorable.

Then I got an idea.

Just as he was going for my head, I quickly relaxed my stance and dropped my broomstick. He looked at me in pure confusion, lowering his weapon as I slowly walked towards him, swaying my hips.

I ran one hand up his chest and settled it on the back of his head, tugging his hair slightly. My other hand slid from his hip to his abdomen, finally resting just above the hem of his pants.

He moaned quietly as I leaned in towards his lips.

"You're dead," I whispered, smirking victoriously.

I pressed a small boot knife against his stomach. Had I wanted to kill him, I could have easily done so.

"T-that's not fair!" Benvolio stuttered, face flushed.

"Bullshit," I laughed, collecting the broomsticks and placing them back where I'd found them. "You just let your guard down."

"Yes, because you dropped your weapon!"

"That doesn't mean I can't still kill you," I said in a singsong tone, grinning mischievously.

"Whatever," he mumbled, rolling his eyes, quickly stealing a kiss, and tangling our fingers together as we walked inside.

We stopped when we heard a quiet laughter attack from behind one of the courtyard pillars. Upon peeking around said pillar, we discovered a very amused Romeo trying desperately to keep quiet.

"How long have you been watching?" I sighed, not having the willpower to be mad at him right now.

"Oh my God, that was fucking amazing. Get some, Mercutio," Romeo winked, bursting into another fit of laughter.

"Not a word to anyone about this," Benvolio threatened. "Demetrius and Lysander wouldn't let me hear the end of it."

"No promises, buddy," Romeo called as we walked off. "And I don't expect him to be able to walk tomorrow, Mercutio!"

I gave a two-fingered salute at my friend as Benvolio flushed deeply.

"Good, 'cause he may not even be able to sit up!"

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More suggestive ending than initially intended, but whatever. This is Wattpad.

To reiterate, this is an uncommon occurrence. I don't want to share my Mercutio with anyone, much less an actual character that he can be properly shipped with. That boy is mine, that boy iS MIIIIIINE, HELPLESS, DOWN FOR THE COUNT AND I'M DROWNIN' AND I'M-

2020 update: That boy is mine? That boy is me? What is gender??

Farewell, faeries. May you never run out of ways to surprise people.