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lemonjoonah · 3 years

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The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?” You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.” The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry. “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head. “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose? “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside. Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a warm and earthy scent envelopes you. His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel. Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid. “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin. “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod. A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth. He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts. And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom. A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

#jungkook smut #hybrid jungkook #bts hybrid au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts the garden thief #bts smut #jungkook x reader

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imagines-hoarder · 3 years

Text

House Warming - Bucky Barnes

Summary: Hopping through some standout moments in making Bucky's apartment a place worth coming home to. (This definitely could have been a headcanon but I refuse to do headcanons at this time.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2.6 k

Warnings: fluff with a lil angst

A/N: I have finished all the assignments left for my degree and decided to sit down and write today. This is probably trash but idc because it has been written and therefore I may as well release it. It's been a while since I've written and years since I've truly tried dipping my foot into a different fandom, but I figured I'd give it ago. Please don't forget to leave comments, I love interacting with y'all. Thank you @bwbatta for the dividers! xoxox

Masterlist

It all started with a damn candle. A ‘sandalwood & vanilla orchid’ candle tucked away in a reused cyan jar.

“I found it at the art market down the street last weekend,” you said as you placed it in the corner of the living room window. “You know we have to support local business.”

“And I shouldn’t assume this is your way of telling me my place smells, right?” Bucky quipped from the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in his hand and a lazy smile on his face. He’d just gotten back from a 12-day mission with Sam, and the last thing he had on his to-do list was to buy candles.

The smile grew firmer as you put yourself into his arms. “Complete opposite, actually. I bought it cause I thought it smelled just like you.” You hid your face within his chest, and he thanked the stars that you couldn’t see the warmth rising in his cheeks. His barren apartment felt a little bigger with a candle in the windowsill.

From there it became decorative pillows… and a couch to hold them. The small living room had quickly become a mess by the time you both had brought it up to his fourth-floor apartment, furniture wrap and packing peanuts strewn everywhere.

“I still don’t know why you needed to buy a sofa this big,” Bucky grumbled as he leaned over the back of the beige three-seater, looking down at your splayed out across its cushions.

“Don’t get me wrong, babe. I love the transient bachelor look you’ve got going on here, but you need more furniture than an armchair,” you mumbled between heavy breaths as you tried to regain control from maneuvering the couch into the apartment.

“And the pillows?” A laugh fell from your lips as you watched him look at the indigo cushions with a remarkable amount of disdain. Who buys pillows made just to look nice on a couch?

“They add character.”

“I didn’t think character was an area we were lacking in. Transient bachelor, remember?” He walked around the couch and shifted you over so he could lay beside you. You instinctively curled into him as you both closed your eyes. For a second the place felt like home. “I also don't know how you plan for us both to fit on this couch every day along with the pillows.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You looked up from his chest with a mischievous glint that made his heart skip. “It’s a pullout bed too. I’m sure it’ll be firm enough even for you.”

The home improvements didn’t stop there, but Bucky refused to admit how much he enjoyed them.

He liked having a place and person to come home to. After you had bought neutral bedding for his room, you’d spent an evening putting together ‘his and hers’ trestle bookcases for either side of the bed. He’d try to keep up his crabbish demeanor as you argued that ‘you needed a place to set your books for when you slept over,’ and a side table could no longer contain the small collection you had spilling over. Even still, he couldn’t find it in himself to banter much about the minor changes you made to make the place feel lived in.

And God, did he love living with you around. Between missions, his continued therapy, and trying to find his place in a world that had tripled in opportunity since his youth, he knew that he never had to question who he was and where he fit in when he walked through that door. You still occasionally slept at your own apartment when he was away, but he could always count on you being asleep in his bed by the time he came home.

One toothbrush in a glass became two, and from there, hand creams, face masks, and cotton pads cluttered the bathroom counter, packed away in their clear containers. You had made sure to keep lavender bath salts on hand for the late-night baths you took together when he woke up in a panic, unable to close his eyes again for fear of falling back into a nightmare.

It took time and working through plenty of hesitation before Bucky could progress from sleeping on the pull-out sofa to the bed, but ever since, you found your nights attended by restlessness whenever you weren’t wrapped in his arms.

Once your lease was up and you had a lengthy conversation about your inability to rest without him, you quickly filled the apartment with brown boxes. Bucky had been no less than astounded by how much you fit into them. From then on, no nook or cranny was without a vase or shelf.

“How many mugs does one house need,” Bucky asked skeptically while he continued to carefully pull them from their paper wrappings.

“Oh, come on! They’re fun!” You exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his waist as you took the Charlie Brown mug from his metal palm. “Plus, we go through enough coffee around here to justify some extra mugs.”

After you put the mug into the lowest shelf of the cabinet, you busied yourself with filing away the spices one cabinet over. No matter how much he tried, Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes away from you, lost in your own world as you chipped away at unpacking your belongings, making yours his, and vice versa. The domesticity in the little things you did was something he could get used to, and he wanted to return the feeling of normalcy as much as he could. He was far from the average boyfriend, but you remind him that could be a good thing. You never wanted to be average, but in these small moments, as you both did what normal couples do, he felt that he could create a new normal with you.

“So your Christmas gift came in already, and it’s too big to hide.” Your awkward tone carried over the phone as he exited a station ten minutes away from the apartment. Even though his neck ached and the cold nipped at the top of his ears, he couldn’t stop himself from releasing a breathy laugh.

“I thought you said you were good at this gift-giving thing, doll,” he teased you as he maneuvered his way to your shared apartment.

“Oh, don’t you fret, baby. I am the best gift-giver in all of New York City. I just slightly miscalculated how big this thing was and have realized it won’t fit into our closet.”

He tsked with a smirk on his face. “If you say so.”

“Hey, you gave me my Christmas gift a week ago.”

“Yeah, that’s because I didn’t know if I’d be back before Christmas.”

“Well, you will be, and I’m glad you are,” your voice softened lovingly as he pulled out his keys to the front of the building.

Bucky had gotten used to your love, but he’d vow to never take it for granted. All the pain he’d endured had somehow led him to you, the person who didn’t see his broken pieces as a burden or a project but as a potential to be whatever he desired.

When he hung up the call and unlocked the apartment, his brows furrowed into one; the apartment was pitch black. It was only when he heard your soft footstep walking towards the entrance that his face relaxed.

Before he could even kiss you, you had your palms firmly placed over his eyes. “No peeking; your gift is in the living room.”

The uncertainty in what you could have got him made his stomach clench. “Is it an animal?”

You slowly dragged him through the front hallway, making sure to avoid crashing into the entryway storage table. “I’m sorry to say it’s not alive.”

“Is it a nice welcome-home spread with candles, fruit, and the pullout bed all set up?”

He could feel your eyes roll to completion. “Easy there, sergeant. That’s for later.” You pulled him down to sit on the couch, and he kept his eyes closed as you pulled your palms away, moving to turn on a lamp. “Okay, Buck. open up.”

When he opened his eyes, it took him a moment to understand what he was seeing nestled against the wall; when he did recognize it, he could only form two words “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit indeed.”

He was quick to stand up and cross the room, eager to get a good look at the walnut centerpiece. “Does it work?”

You scoffed as you moved to kiss his cheek. “What kind of girlfriend would get her ancient boyfriend a broken phonograph console?”

He didn’t even attempt to answer as he bent down to wrap his arms around you, his lips eager to find yours. “A fucking Magnavox radio and phonograph,” he mumbled against your lips.

“A working Magnavox radio and phonograph, you mean.” When you pulled away and saw that his face held a glow reserved only for special occasions, you knew you had made the right choice. “I’ve got some records wrapped up if you want to open those now too.”

You yelped in surprise as he picked you up and made his way towards your bedroom. “I’ve got something else I’d like to unwrap first.”

Bucky Barnes had grown up in a period when the average family could seldom afford nice things or much of anything at all. The Great Depression has resulted in the slogan ‘Make it do or Do without,” being ingrained into what memories he still had, and 'doing without' had become commonplace for the Barnes household.

That’s why every gadget and gizmo you added to your household left him in awe. For much of his life, including the decades he spent as a weapon for Hydra, he hadn’t been allowed to call anything his own; he was still getting used to living so plentifully, both in love and in life. But now, he could barely move and he thought it had all been taken away from him.

The attack was supposed to have been contained, at least three miles away from the apartment. Anything less, and he would have made you visit your family upstate instead of just suggesting it. By the time Sam had told him that there’d been some confirmed damage within a block of the apartment, Bucky was already on his way home. He couldn’t think of anything but the worse: you trapped in a collapsing apartment building or pulling up to find no building there at all.

He felt his lungs fill with air again as he pulled up to your building, completely intact regardless of the severe damage less than a five-minute walk away. It felt like both seconds and hours between when he parked his outside and unlocked the front door.

“He doesn’t have his phone on him, mom. How am I supposed to…” you trailed off from your call as he walked into the living room, turning your head away from the Breaking News report you’d been glued to for the last hour. “Wait, I’ll call you back. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll call you back.” Your eyes never left his as he walked over to you, hanging up the phone with worry in your eyes. “Buck, are you oka-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he pulled you off of the couch and into his arms. His grip was less reserved than he usually kept, but he made sure not to hurt you, eager to keep you in his arms, where he knew you were safe. A single tear fell from the corner of his eyes as he realized the real possibility that he could have lost you if you lived even 5 minutes closer to the attack. You stayed like that for a while, gathered tightly in his arms as you both settled onto the floor You didn’t push him to verbalize his fear; you already understood it. And it took this occurrence for him to realize he never wanted to experience this feeling again.

Bucky was quiet for the rest of the evening, and while it worried you, his fear had been evident enough not to require questioning. The city-wide cleanup had lasted all hours of the night; for the first time in all the years you had lived in the city, the sounds of the whirring of vehicles clearing debris off the street had been too close to ignore. The sun was rising before a single word was said between you and Bucky, tangled together on the sofa as the first ray of light made itself known.

“You’ve spent so much time piecing this place together, doll.” His voice was raspy. You know he hates when you see him cry, but his pain was always evident in his voice. “And it could have been all wiped away in seconds.” You let a heavy silence settle between you as you traced a pattern into his shoulder. He couldn’t bear to say it, but you knew what he meant: You could have been gone within seconds. “I just… I don’t ever want to feel like this again.”

You’d both gone through so much to make your relationship work. Nearly normal was as close as you would ever attain to being an average couple. The distance, the days without contact, and the ever-present fear that anything could pull you away from one another was something that had taken time to work through.

You looked around the living room and saw the place you had built together. There were photos and books scattered on any flat surface, a leftover mug half-filled with cold tea, and a record left out on the phonograph. The apartment looked like what love felt like; a messy combination of everything you and Bucky. But this apartment could not contain everything that ‘home’ was; only Bucky could do that.

The words fell from your mouth before you could restrain them. “Maybe we should move.”

Your eyes found each other, and you both sat in silence, though it felt lighter, invigorated with the new proposition.

Before he even responded, you could see tension dissolve from his shoulders. “Where do you want to move?”

You hadn’t thought that far ahead, only being able to provide him with a shrug. “I don’t know… maybe upstate, maybe somewhere else.”

“Your mom would like you being Upstate.”

“My mom would love us living next door too, but I don’t see that in the cards anytime soon.” You got a ghost of a smile for that.

“We could probably afford a house if we moved out there,” he said as he moved his lips to meet your forehead.

“Buck, I’d move anywhere with you. As long as we have each other, then we have all we need to rebuild this place.”

He pressed soft kisses to the crown of your head, and you swore you felt his chest flutter. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna look for some places, bigger ones too.” He tilted your head up to find your eyes, and you were sure that all of the love you carried for each other was incredibly visible at that moment. “You have made this apartment something worth coming home to. Now let me give you a house to make a home.” Your skin tingled with adoration as you pulled him as close as possible, burying your face into his neck.

You didn’t want to let go. You wanted to lay in this room, in this bed, and in this moment until the end of time, but you knew that something bigger and better was on the horizon for you and Bucky.

“All I heard is that you’re buying me a house.” His laugh was music to your ears.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff

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nony-bear · 4 years

Text

Mission Birthday (Steve Oneshot)

This blog and ALL posts are for people 18 + ONLY.

Gif By: @zimski-vojnik // Dividers Found Here

Parings: Steve X Reader

Warnings: Kissing (I don’t know if that needs a warning but just incase.)

Word Count: 1779

Summary: It’s your boyfriends birthday... the only problem is, he didn’t tell you.

A/N: Hi everyone! I know it’s been a hot second since I’ve posted any actual writing, but I finally was able to write this request I got a while back! I think I like how it ended up turning out even though it’s on the shorter side for a oneshot, but anyways, I hope I did an okay job, and everyone likes it! As always, thank you all for your support and everything. You all are truly amazing, and I can’t express how grateful I am for everything. My inbox is always open and has anonymous mode available, so please feel free to drop in anytime about literally anything (even requests!) I’d love to hear from you all!

Sitting at the kitchen table at the Avengers compound, you sip your coffee carefully, trying not to burn your mouth but still get a taste of that magical caffeine. Nat is sitting across from filling out some mission reports while eating her breakfast, Bruce is next to her reading some physics thesis, and Bucky is over at the stove cooking up some eggs. While making himself some breakfast, Bucky chats with you about work and the weather and other normal stuff. The conversation is by no means awkward, but your brain is still waking up, not used to being up this early. Usually, after your boyfriend (and fellow avenger) Steveleaves in the morning for his workout session giving you a soft kiss goodbye, you fall right back to sleep. But this morning was different. No matter how hard you tossed and turned, you couldn’t sleep. There was this weird nagging feeling in the back of your head that you were missing something. Still, you were sure that you didn’t have any meetings except for a quick one this afternoon, and besides that, you had the day completely free. But you still couldn’t shake it, so instead, you got up and dragged yourself out into the common area.

“So, what are you and Steve doing tonight?” Bucky asks, walking over to the table with his plate in hand.

You shrug nonchalantly. “Not sure, probably just go catch fireworks somewhere. Why do you have plans?”

In the midst of hungrily shoveling the food in his mouth, he looks up at you, confused. “But it’s -”

You chuckle at him a little, looking shocked before answering the question for him. “Buck, I know it used to be really big when you and Steve were young, but usually people now only do like cookouts and fireworks. Independence Day just isn’t as big of a deal.”

“Oh my god, you don’t know…” He says, dropping the fork on the table making a clinking sound that causes Nat and Bruce to look up at him in just as much confusion as you.

With a nervous laugh, you look between him and the others. “What don’t I know?”

“Nope, nothing,” Buck announces, his demeanor changing suddenly, before standing up and walking back towards the counters in the kitchen.

You’re suddenly much more awake and quick on your feet, following after him. “You can’t just not tell me now!” You say, grabbing his arm lightly as if you could really ever actually restrain his movements.

“You obviously don’t know for a reason, so I’m not going to be the one that tells you.” He laughs, using his hand to push your head, and subsequently, your body away from him playfully.

“Nat! Bruce!” You whine, looking at them for help.

Bruce sighs, taking off his glasses. “You know she isn’t going to leave you alone until you tell her.”

Bucky huffs in annoyance, knowing how persistent you can be. “Okay fine, but you can’t tell him I told you…”

Your heart starts beating faster; you figured it was something about Steve, but now you’re worried, what if this is something serious. “I promise.” You tell him before taking a deep breath in.

“Today is Steve’s birthday.” He says cautiously.

“What?!” You, Nat, and Bruce all say at once.

Bucky puts down his plate and rubs his hands over his face frustratedly. “He’s going to kill me.”

“Not if I kill him first!” You say immediately. “I can believe he didn’t tell me! I’ve been trying to get it out of him for months! He said he didn’t want me trying to analyze his birth chart, said his mom thought that kind of stuff was for witches.” Bruce shrugs with a chuckle, and Nat swats him with her papers.

“Y/n, please, don’t make a big deal about today. Steve doesn’t like celebrating his birthday. He hates it, actually,” Bucky explains, glancing at the doorways worried Steve may walk in at any moment.

You shake your head and put your hands on your hips, confused. “But why? Obviously, the astrology thing wasn’t true.”

“I mean, that does sound like something his mom would have said, but still, Steve just doesn’t like being the center of attention, didn’t want you to go to the trouble probably.” Bucky shrugs. “Now, speaking of trouble… don’t get me in it.”

After talking to Bucky, you tried not to dwell on the fact that it is your boyfriend’s birthday, and you literally have nothing prepared. But that quickly proved to be impossible. So mission Birthday commenced.

You got yourself ready as quickly as possible to avoid Steve on his way back from the gym before his meetings and then ran out into town. You picked up everything you would need; decorations, food, some cupcakes, and of course, his gift. You had reserved this present for your anniversary, only three months away, but with this new information, you couldn’t help yourself.

Making sure to discreetly slip back into the compound after Steve had already left for his meetings and drop everything off before attending a meeting of your own. Thankfully it was short and sweet, and you were able to dash back to your shared suite in no time.

You set up everything perfectly. Simple blue streamers on the ceiling, a few silver balloons here and there, and his go-to order from his favorite take-out spot and cute little cupcakes from a local bakery presented nicely on the delicately set table, while the gift rests hidden in your bag for later.

Having a bit of time left, you put on one of his favorite records, lit some candles, and changed into one of his favorites of your dresses. You are finishing up fixing up your hair when you hear the jiggle of the knob on the front door.

“Uh, baby? Are you in there? Did you lock the door?” The confused man calls out to you from the other side of the door. Considering the Avengers Compound is one of the secure and safest places in the entire world, you tended to rarely keep the doors locked.

Giggling, you rush over and smooth your dress out one last time before unlocking the door and opening it slowly. “I’m sorry, I’m actually waiting for someone. Can I help you?” You tease him trying not to open the door too wide, and let him see in.

“What’s going on with you, my little minx? Let me in.” He chuckles, confused, trying to wrap a hand around your waist to move you.

You follow his lead and move to the side. Once he enters the room, you close the door before coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso. “I know your secret.” You say softly, unable to contain your giddy smile.

“Baby, you didn’t have to do all of this…” He sighs, turning in your arms to get a better look at you. “You didn’t have to go to all the trouble just for me.”

You shake your head and frown. “Steve, it’s no trouble at all. I love you, and you deserve to be celebrated. I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me.”

His features soften as he leans down and kisses you wiping the frown off your face. “I love you so much…. And thank you, I’m sorry for not telling you, even though I would have been just fine with leftovers and going to see the fireworks tonight.” He chuckles.

“Don’t worry, we’ll still go see the fireworks tonight still, but after dinner, now come eat.”

Steve and you talk over dinner, enjoying the quality time together, and him continually thanking you and telling you that you didn’t have to do all this for him.

After eating, you pull him out of his seat and head towards the garage. You ignore his repeated questions about where you are going, simply telling him to be patient. About fifteen minutes later, you pull over to the side of the road and get out of the car, Steve following closely behind.

Still asking you a million questions, you lead him out to a field where you can see a handful of people in the distance setting something up.

“Baby, what the hell are we doing out here?” He asks you, confused and starting to get nervous that you guys may be trespassing.

“Wanted you to have the best seats in the house.” You say, making Steve connect the dots that the men in the distance must be setting up the annual fireworks. “Now sit so I can give you your present.” You laugh, pulling him down to the grass with you.

“A present, really baby? I swear you really -”

“Didn’t have to do this, I know, I know.” You cut him off while pulling the small wrapped object out of your bag and handing it to him. “I wanted to. Steve, really, I love you; I couldn’t let your birthday be just another day. You deserve better than that.”

Steve stops trying to argue and leans forward, kissing your forehead lovingly before taking the gift from you. Carefully he unwraps the simple blue paper revealing the clear box containing an old dirty baseball with tiny letters scrawled across it in blue ink.

“I know how you always said you wish you could have played baseball as a kid and how you and bucky would always try to go catch foul balls at the Yankees games but never did. So I got one for you, even got the player you liked from all the way back then…” You explain nervously, hoping he’d like it as much as you thought he would.

“This is an amazing baby. I don’t even know what to say. Just thank you, so, so much.” He says, closely examining the ball until he looks up to you, pulling you in close for a hug and a kiss.

You smile at his happiness, proud that he liked the gift. “Happy Birthday, old man.” You giggle teasingly.

He chuckles, giving you an eye roll.“Can’t even be mad at you. You have made this the best birthday ever.”

Soon the two of you cuddle up close with your back against his front and his arms wrapped around you, leaning up against one of the trees bordering the field. Waiting for the fireworks to begin, a comfortable silence falls over you both while he presses soft kisses to your cheek, and you play with the fingers of his that is held by yours. And as you lie there together, Steve thinks of why exactly he didn’t like his birthday, but suddenly he can’t remember.

Taglist: @angrybirdcr // @cloudystevie // @dadplease // @doozywoozy // @patzammit // @selfcarecap // @steebsbabygirl // @velvetcardiganbucky // @worksby-d

If you would like to be a part of my taglist for future writing, let me know! (If you would like to be tagged for only certain characters and/or only specific types of writing (like only fluff or only smut), I can do that too!)

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frostedfaves · 4 years

Text

Repercussions (3)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha seeks to define her relationship with you and strengthens her friendship with Wanda.

Warnings: dark themes, stalking (let me know if I missed any!)

A/N: I originally had a completely different plan for this part but I changed the storyline a bit as I was writing and I’m so happy with the finished product. I hope you are too and I’m excited to hear your thoughts!

Previous part

Once inside your room, Natasha felt the peace return to her mind and body. The more time spent with you, the harder it became to leave you, and she feared a time when she wouldn’t be able to leave you at all. She hated the dependency and urgency that came with falling for you, welcoming it in the same breath because you were special. In what way, she wasn’t sure yet.

You were shivering slightly in your sleep, and she ran the tips of her fingers along your bare legs to see you react to her touch. A quiet chuckle escaped her lips as she pulled the blanket over you, climbing in bed next to you. Her head fell back onto the pillow while wrapping her arm around your waist, her hand occasionally moving to stroke your thigh as she attempted to match your breathing. Part of her was impatient, wanting to experience sleeping next to you every night for the rest of her life. It was too soon, though. All the pieces weren’t in place yet.

A phone call announced itself by loud ringing, and Natasha let out a string of curses when she realized it was coming from her pocket. She fumbled for the phone and answered, shushing Wanda as she waited with rigid muscles for your reaction. She breathed a sigh of relief when all you did was squirm a bit under the weight of her arm, light snores continuing.

“What’s up, Wan?” she quickly whispered, bracing herself for questions.

“I was going to ask where you were but I think I know now. Hot date?”

“You could definitely say that,” she breathed as her hand trailed over your body once more. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

She hung up and slid the phone back into her pocket, reaching over to kiss your temple before pulling away and leaving the bed altogether. She left the way she entered, fixing the curtains, closing the window and replacing the screen all in under a minute. She was home in a short amount of time as well, and a sigh left her when she spotted Wanda waiting on her bed.

“Am I going to get a lecture about something?”

“No.” Wanda released a sigh of her own as she waited for Natasha to sit next to her. “I just worry. I’ve never seen you this enamored with anyone and I don’t want her to take you down a path you can’t return from.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Y/N is just special, and I don’t think it’s fair that I have to share her with other people. She’s the first person I’ve ever met that I could truly see myself falling in love with, no consequences whatsoever. I don’t think it’s a crime to want to protect that.”

“Then I want to help.” She pulled out a large silver ring holding a few keys. “May or may not have manipulated Tony into giving me these. He has a house upstate with a pretty amazing security system and a lot of privacy. I can set it up for you while you work on building your relationship.”

Natasha examined the keys with a frown, holding it as she looked up again. “Not that I don’t appreciate your willingness to help, but what changed your mind? You seemed to disagree with my plans at first.”

“Well I may have done a little stalking of my own.” Natasha’s eyes widened and Wanda responded with a sheepish grin. “This morning I kind of made another trip to the bookstore while Y/N was working there, and her thoughts were full of you the whole time. I think the two of you could have something beautiful together.”

“I knew you were my best friend for a reason.” A laugh escapes both of them as Natasha throws her arms around the grinning woman, pulling away after a few moments and lying next to her on the bed. “I love you, Wan.”

“Love you too, Tash. Now tell me your whole plan.”

In all of your years of existing, you’d never had such a dry feeling in your throat upon waking up. You wanted to blame it on an almost hangover, but you only had one glass of red, right? Besides, there was no headache, just the discomfort of the sunshine in your eyes.

Wait, sunshine.

Your head popped up from the pillow as you realized you hadn’t heard your alarm, and you quickly rolled over to grab your phone from the bedside table. A loud groan echoed into the room when you realized you never placed it on the charger last night and the battery died. The groan was followed by a gasp when your screen came on and revealed the time.

“Shit!” You paused in your movement of getting up when missed calls and a text appeared from the store owner.

Couldn’t reach you, so I got Ron to cover your shift. Hope everything’s alright!

You went to the contact to press the call button with shaky fingers. You knew your boss was understanding, but you hated disappointing anyone, especially someone you worked for.

“Hey!” you spoke as soon as the phone was answered, tone full of the guilt that coursed through you. “I’m so sorry I didn’t show! I forgot to charge my phone and it died, so I ended up sleeping well past my alarm time.”

“It’s okay, you clearly needed the rest! I’m just glad that you’re alright. See you in a few days!”

“Okay, see you then. Sorry again!” you quickly added before hanging up and placing the phone back on the table with a frustrated huff. You ran your hands over your face as you slouched forward, sighing again when your phone rang and quickly answering. “Hello?”

“Good morning, printsessa.”

You straightened from your defeated position, a smile appearing almost instantly at the sound of the warm and inviting voice on the other end.

“Nat, hi! Good morning to you too.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting you at work.”

“No.” You let out another one of those tired sighs that seemed to be second nature today. “I slept through my alarm and missed most of my shift. I’m just now waking up.”

“Did your manager give you a hard time?”

You frowned a bit at the hard edge that seemed to suddenly frame her tone, shaking your head and suddenly remembering she couldn’t see you.

“No, nothing like that. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“That’s good!” The sweetness returned. “So why do you sound so down, then?”

“I just hate letting anyone down, but especially my boss. They’re always so kind and understanding and I don’t want them to think I’m taking advantage of that.” You laughed a bit as you flopped back onto your pillows. “Sorry, I have a tendency to beat myself up with things.”

“It’s okay, I get it.”

“Really? Even someone as perfect as you messes up sometimes?”

“Of course not.” You laughed again, a little louder this time. “You know, I could send a car to bring you here to spend the day and maybe the night with me. How does that sound?”

“Any time with you sounds amazing. Give me an hour to get clean and packed!”

You both exchanged warm goodbyes and you continued to lie there with a wide grin as you saved her number in your phone. You decided against facing the sunlight and instead turned the other way to get up and get ready, just missing the strand of red hair on the pillow beside you.

The car that arrived for you had tinted windows and a divider between the front and back seats, and you were met with a deep grunt in response to your warm greeting after climbing in. You watched the city life pass by on your way to the Avengers tower, smiling when you caught a glimpse of Natasha outside of the building as you arrived. She took your bag and grabbed your hand with her free one, all with a smile and adoring eyes.

“I see you made it here in one piece.”

“I did, thank you. Are all of your drivers that grumpy?”

Her head turned to look behind you as you walked toward the entrance, eyes lingering for a moment before returning her gaze ahead of her.

“Just the one.” She led you inside the elevator and freed a finger to press the button to her private floor. “I have a nice lunch prepared for us. It’s takeout from a restaurant, so I wouldn’t run the risk of killing you with my cooking.”

“I appreciate that,” you chuckled, squeezing her hand slightly. “But you know, I don’t mind showing you a few things in the kitchen.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer.” She leaned in to quickly peck your lips, dragging you out of the elevator and toward a table set up with covered meals and wine glasses. “Don’t touch anything until I get back!”

You sat down in one of the chairs, admiring the spacious dining area while you waited for Natasha to drop your bag off in her room. When she returned, grins appeared on your faces as you met eyes again, holding the gaze as she began to pour the wine. You were pleasantly surprised when the plates were uncovered and you realized it was your favorite meal from one of the first places you fell in love with after moving to New York.

“How did you know?”

“It’s my job to know.” She laughed. “I also may have made a guess based on what you ordered last night. Speaking of last night, I just want to say that it was the best date I’ve ever been on, and I would love to pursue something more serious with you. If that’s what you want too, of course.”

“I do,” you told her without a moment of hesitation, knowing that you felt the same way about last night. “In the short amount of time that I’ve spent with you, I’ve felt warmer and lighter than any other previous romantic experience, and I’m curious to see where this goes.”

“Same here.” She leaned across the table and you met her in the middle, smiling through the kiss until you pulled away, and she held her wine glass out to you. “To the beginning of something amazing.”

“To the beginning of something amazing.”

The two of you ate in a silence occasionally filled with light banter and echoing laughter, nearing the end of your meal when the elevator dinged and footsteps were heard in the hallway.

“Tash, where are--oh.”

“Wanda, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my best friend Wanda, who will probably hug you as she greets you.”

“Only if you don’t mind,” Wanda clarified with a sheepish grin, to which you responded with a laugh.

“No worries, I don’t mind!”

You dropped your fork and stood up, smiling just as widely as the cheerful Avenger that approached you, bright eyes holding a bit of a red tint. Her arms went around you as yours neared her torso, and suddenly everything went dark.

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @nat-km-mh @emilyprentisswife @cherrieloco @fayhar @muted-stoneheart @witchxaf @sakurat123 @bebe404 @its-a-long-way-to-ba-sing-se @trikruismybitch @darkangelxoxo @becka107

#dark!natasha romanoff x reader #dark!natasha #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #black widow #black widow x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #avengers fanfic #avengers imagine #the avengers #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x you #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel imagine

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pagesoflauren · 4 years

Text

The Riveter Ch. 4

Steve Rogers x mechanic!reader

Summary: After escaping Hydra, you assist Dr. Erskine in helping Steve Rogers become Captain America. When Erskine is assassinated, you think your WWII career is over. Unfortunately, the SSR and Hydra are not done with you yet.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of death, canon-typical violence, mentions of trauma, slow burn, dialogue-heavy chapters, comic book science

A/N: I hope you enjoy this. I had fun writing it! Thank you to @seeevans and @dbnightingale24 for helping me with this! Major shoutout to @writeyourmindaway for creating such wonderful and beautiful dividers!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

You’re jostled awake, shaken as you lay at the end of a truck bed, spotting the shaky view of the road. The sky is filled with smoke, the bitter smell filling your lungs, beckoning you away from dreamland.

Though, your sleep was dreamless nonetheless.

You can’t recall anything immediately, only feeling the urgent need to get off the truck you’re on. As your senses slowly become acute, you can hear some soldiers speaking German behind you.

“It’s amazing it’s still asleep,” one mutters.

“I wonder what Herr Schmidt did,” another voice responds.

“That’s not important,” the first one speaks up again. “We should not concern ourselves with such matters too much. All we need to know is it’s vital to us winning the war.”

You cringe at the pronoun they use for you, but ignore it as you begin to devise a plan to escape.

Slitting your eyes open, you spy the switch used to drop the tailgate. Stretching your leg under the guise of fidgeting in your sleep, your toe just reaches the lever. You don’t hear or sense any movement from the men, so you keep your foot poised there.

A few minutes later, you hear exactly what you were hoping for: “Hold on, men!” the driver calls from the cab.

There’s a rough patch in the road and you kick. The other objects and the metal rack above the bed rattle too, masking the sound of the tailgate dropping. With it down, you’re exposed to the breeze.

You’re tossed this way and that and the men seem distracted with securing whatever else is being transported with you. You take that as your opportunity, rolling out and bracing yourself quickly.

Falling on the bumpy dirt road knocks the breath out of you, but you gulp and turn to your front to get to your feet. Before the men can recognize that you’re gone, you’ve disappeared into the treeline.

Leaning against a trunk, you catch your breath and try to orient yourself, but you don’t have much direction. What began as confusion between east and west grew into not knowing which way is up or down. Sliding down to sit, you lean your head back. When you close your eyes, you hear Zola’s voice echoing in your head.

-----

Celebrations were underway, Steve still receiving congratulations while the captured men reunited with their friends, lovers, and commanders. He even received the Medal of Valor, which he didn’t attend the ceremony for.

Not only was there so much to do in London, he knew in his heart he couldn’t accept it. While he succeeded in saving Bucky and the rest of the 107th, he failed to make sure his partner was safe as the two of you carried out your mission.

In idle moments, he hears you screaming; behind shut eyes, he sees your face. When he doesn’t see you, he sees Peggy and Howard, somber expressions. Where Agent Carter is normally composed, her lip wobbles at the thought of you. Howard ran a hand down his face, eyes shiny and voice clogged as he asked if there was a chance you were alive.

Steve didn’t know, and he still doesn’t. He was sent to England less than a day after returning from Austria. Peggy was called too but requested an extension to continue working with Howard in Italy.

Work continued, but it was slower without her intelligence contributions in devising a plan to take down the Hydra bases he made note of. After a long day of nothing, Colonel Phillips dismisses the meeting.

“Rogers, before you hit the hay,” the older man says, “You may want to visit the infirmary before their visiting hours end.”

Confused and concerned, Steve nods and makes his way out of the situation room, navigating the narrow halls to the medical wing.

He sees Howard first, sitting across from a head of brown curls that Steve can deduce is Agent Carter. There’s a doctor at the foot of the bed relaying information to the patient.

You lay there, scratches adorning your face and eyes heavily lidded.

Steve’s heart is light with disbelief and repose for feeling calm at the sight of you safe in an Allied facility.

“...I’ll leave you to rest.”

“Thank you, doctor,” you smile.

Howard spots him in the doorway, nodding in greeting, “Hey, Cap.”

Stepping in awkwardly, Steve feels shy seeing you. He stands in the place the doctor once occupied, hands folded behind your back.

“I’d venture to say dress greens suit you better than tights,” you joke, voice gravelly. You laugh then groan and Steve is concerned again.

“You can’t laugh, love,” Peggy reminds you.

“What happened?” he wonders.

You rattle off your injuries: scratches, dislocated shoulder from falling out of the truck, bruised ribs, and major fatigue from lack of food and water.

“How’s your head?” Howard prods.

“Better now that I’ve rested.”

Steve likes hearing that you’ve been better, but he can’t imagine what you’ve been through that was worse. “When did you get here?”

“We arrived at a little past noon. The doctor thinks she was out in the Austrian forest for a little over twelve hours before we found her,” Peggy answers for you. “We’ll give you two some time to catch up.”

“Why do we have to--”

There’s a thud and Howard groans, face scrunching up in pain as he looks at Peggy.

“Ouch! ...Okay. We’ll see you later, little miss,” he gets up, kissing your forehead. “Captain.”

“Get some rest, love,” Peggy cradles your cheek.

“Thank you,” you say, grabbing her hand. “Thank you for finding me.”

“Of course,” she smiles. She turns back to Steve, regarding him with a nod.

When they both leave, your eyes are on him and he smiles nervously, pointing to the chair Peggy just vacated. You tilt your head towards it as if giving him permission to sit down.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he tells you honestly. “Must’ve been hell...being in there alone.”

Your shoulder lifts slightly; a shrug of some sort. “Could’ve been worse. I think it goes without saying, though.”

Pursing his lips, he considers your words for a moment. “Do you remember anything?”

You close your eyes and inhale slowly, wincing a little at the pain when your ribs move as you take in air. “Plenty.” Eyes opening, you look a little perplexed. “But at the same time, not a lot.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

Your mouth opens to speak, but you’re interrupted by nurses murmuring at a nearby table. “I’d explain but it’s classified.”

“You’d keep secrets from me?” he smirks. “Thought we were friends.”

You smile. “Only until we’re around people on a need-to-know basis. Phillips must’ve told you, right?” Steve tilts his head curiously. “Once I’m on my feet, I’m meant to debrief everything I remember.”

He makes a mental note to ask Phillips about it. At the mention of you recovering, Steve thinks back to the injuries you mentioned. “Seems like you got outta Hydra with a lot of luck.”

Your face doesn’t change, but he sees your eyes flick to the left. “Luck indeed.”

“Could’ve been worse, like you said.”

You purse your lips, nodding.

Looking down, Steve decides to drop the subject. Howard and Peggy went all the way back to the factory to find you based on the slim chance that you were still alive. He can imagine them combing through dozens of trees before finding you.

They trust you. Steve trusts you.

But why wasn’t it worse for you?

“Captain Rogers, my apologies,” a nurse speaks as she approaches your bedside. “But it’s time for the infirmary to close to visitors.”

Nodding to her, there’s an idle moment until she realizes she should give some space for him to say goodnight.

“Well,” he says, standing up, “Feel better soon.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

He pauses, fidgeting with the air as he contemplates bidding you goodbye in an additional way. You raise your eyebrows expectantly.

“Goodnight,” he blurts, turning on his heel and walking out. He can hear you saying it back as he leaves, a perplexed lilt in the word.

Days later, Steve sits surrounded by other high-ranking officers. Howard is there too, studying a diagram of a Hydra weapon you drew.

“...She suspects Schmidt is plotting something big, but she doesn’t know exactly what it is or where it could be headed,” Agent Carter concludes, standing at the head of the table. She debriefs the men while you continue to recover in the infirmary, not wanting the SSR to lose time while your body heals. “Questions, gentlemen?”

“This is everything she told you?” Colonel Phillips asks.

“Yes. It’s all she remembers as well. That drawing is all we have of a blueprint that shows how the Hydra weapons work.”

“Any information on where the power source is?” another man speaks up.

“With power such as that, I think it’s safe to assume Schmidt would keep it close. Can’t imagine he’d want it possibly falling into the wrong hands.”

“And she said it was a stone in a cube?”

Peggy makes a show of looking at her notes, “Yes, those are Schmidt’s words to her.”

“You think we can trust her?” he follows up quickly, speaking just as she finishes her sentence.

“I beg your pardon?” Her tone is taken aback as if the question was insulting to her. Steve can understand her offense, but if he’s honest, he wonders the same thing.

How could someone fall out of a truck and get away with injuries like yours? He would’ve thought you had a head wound and broken bones.

“Why is she even alive?” His follow up question is accusatory. “This is Hydra we’re talking about. They built weapons that disintegrate men and captured a scientist to create a super-soldier serum. They’re led by a lunatic with a melted face. There’s no way they would have kidnapped a mechanic and keep her alive. She worked for them. She knows too much. Why would they risk her escaping and telling us what she knows?”

“If it’s her loyalty you’re questioning, sir, you have no reason to. Hydra has killed everyone she holds dear. She has no family and even her mentor was killed by them. You all saw it. She was taken from her home that didn’t even have any German connections other than the Hydra spy she fitted with a prosthetic arm. Hydra has done nothing for her.” She pauses, appearing to inhale deeply to gather herself. “I don’t think we have any reason to suspect she is undercover on their behalf. I believe Colonel Phillips knows this well; she refused coming to Europe for the SSR in fear that Hydra would find her.”

He appears satisfied with her defense, raising his hands in surrender.

“Any more questions?” she asks, crossing her arms, her tone somewhat challenging.

After a moment, Colonel Phillips stands. “Thank you, Agent. Have a seat.” Nodding, she finds a chair next to Howard. “Now, we have decided to task our former mechanic with being Mr. Stark’s assistant in weapons and she’ll work with Agent Carter in tactics. She has good intel, but we don’t want her skills going to waste. I’m sure she can help think up some good ways to keep our boys safe. I will debrief with her again in the coming days to see if she remembers anything more.”

After opening the floor to questions again, Phillips dismisses the meeting. Steve watches from his seat as everyone gets up, scattering to their respective workplaces.

“Stark, Carter, get to work. We need to make sure Rogers and his men are well equipped and ready. Don’t wanna be sending our chorus girl into the fray in his little spangled suit.”

Phillips looks proud of his joke as he smiles for a split second. His face straightens quickly and he nods before dismissing himself.

“If you’ll excuse me, boys,” Peggy leaves shortly after. “Should attend to your tactics, Captain.”

“I should get to working on your stuff,” Howard excuses himself and pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll make sure you don’t look as ridiculous as you do on the stage.”

“Actually,” Steve stops him, “I kinda liked that uniform.”

Stark looks thoughtful for a minute before he laughs. “Well, I’ll find a compromise. The little miss absolutely hates that suit.”

Tilting his head and squinting, Steve leaves and heads towards the canteen.

-----

“I hear you hate my suit.”

The baritone of his voice pulls you from the pages you’re reading.

He stands in his dress greens again, a dashing smirk on his face as the lights illuminate him from behind, making his hair look like a golden halo above his head.

“Who told you that?” You close your book, looking at him curiously. Setting it on your bedside table, you sit up a little more.

“Stark,” he states plainly.

You chuckle once, shaking your head. You expect him to be laughing too, but when you look back up at him, he’s shuffling from one foot to the other.

“Um, did you--?” you begin, but he blurts out in the middle of your question, “Can I help you with anything?”

“I’m sorry?” you ask, confused.

“Well, I just...I was wondering if you needed anything. Are you hungry? Or how’s your leg?”

“Oh--”

“What about the pillow behind you, does that need to be fluffed? Maybe I could bring you another book.”

“Steve--?”

“Just...anything you need?”

You blink, waiting for him to continue. When he says nothing else, you pipe up. “Well, I’d love some water.”

He’s quick to accommodate you, walking to the cart on the other side of the room to grab a pitcher and bring it over to your bedside. He picks up the glass next to your book and begins to pour.

You’re not quite sure how it happened--perhaps some water got on the handle which made it slippery--but the metal vessel fell out of his grip and bounced on your mattress before clattering loudly on the floor.

The water is making itself known as it seeps through your blanket and your hospital gown, making you cringe away. Steve’s eyes are wide and his cheeks are rosy, the bright color spreading all the way to his ears.

“I’m so sorry!” He looks up at the hospital staff that heard the ruckus, “I’m sorry, it slipped. She needs a new gown...and bed.”

They come to assist you, a nurse nudging him out of the way as she lays some rags down to soak up the puddle on the floor.

“Excuse me, Captain,” she says politely.

He steps back, watching as the team helps you out of bed to stand on your feet. His heart sinks at the pain you must be in from your ribs, but it doesn’t show on your face.

“I’ll just,” he excuses himself, but no one is paying attention.

Shaking his head, he goes to the canteen to sulk.

---

“I’m back.”

Steve’s next to your new bed, hands carrying a tray and you can imagine the precarious journey he took to get from the canteen to here.

“You eat supper yet?”

“No.” You’re a little relieved. Your nose detects the comforting scent of buttered mashed potatoes and baked chicken. Steve sets the tray in your lap and your eyes gobble the sight, bright orange carrots brilliant against your eyes and a warm bread roll with a pat of butter inviting you to take a bite. “This is the best,” you gush, “I’ve eaten ham sandwiches and Jell-O for the past five days.”

You close your eyes at the feeling of airy, fluffy fresh bread in your mouth, loving the crunch of the crust between your teeth.

You moan happily before turning to him. “Thank you,” you smile.

He nods, “Of course. I hope it makes up for my stupid blunder earlier. I’m really sorry about that.”

You observe him as you take another bite, watching him as he watches you. You can’t describe it, but his face manages to say it all.

“Somehow I feel like you’re not here to just apologize for the spilled water. It really wasn’t a huge problem, by the way. They just moved me and gave me a new gown.”

“Well, I--” he gives a one-handed shrug before bringing his palm to the back of his neck, rubbing the skin there nervously. “I also just...wanted to say sorry.”

You hum, reaching to the bedside table and sipping from the glass of water. “‘Sorry’ for what?”

There’s a look in his eyes, something somber and guilt-ridden that makes the blue a little dull. “For leaving you. There. With them.”

Your head stings, eyes squeezing shut. You can feel your body jolt and a word echoes as if it’s coming from above you.

Befehl.

You shake your head vigorously, gasping a little.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Sorry, I’m not sure what happened.”

“Should I call the doctor?”

“No, no. I’m okay.” You gave your head another small jostle before addressing his apology. “Steve, you have nothing to be sorry about. I knew what I was getting into when I jumped out of the plane with you. I’m here now, I’m okay.”

“But I--”

“Steve, it was my choice.”

Your sentence seems to stun him into silence. He closes his eyes and gives a reluctant smile. “I guess you’re right.”

The corner of your mouth twitches up as he concedes. You eat for a few minutes, a little self conscious as you notice his watching you.

“So...uh, what’s your favorite color?”

You laugh. “Captain Rogers, why are you here other than to bring me dinner, give me a completely unnecessary apology, and ask me what my favorite color is?”

“Howard and Peggy are working tonight,” he uses his thumb to point to the door. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

There’s a flutter in your stomach, a surge of warmth and happiness that blooms in your chest, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your mouth or the heat that gathers in your face.

“Well, thank you,” you say as calmly as you can, trying to deflect your emotions by feeding yourself more supper. “How’s your friend? Bucky?”

He smiles, too, before diving into a story about him.

He stays as long as he can, telling you stories as you eat and try to not squirt water out of your nose when he makes you laugh. You forget there’s a battle raging on above your heads and across the English Channel. You forget there’s a chance of a Blitz in the evening, or even during the day.

Forgetting is dangerous. It’s a distraction from what’s really important and demands your attention.

But you don’t see anything wrong here when you’re on bedrest.

“They’ll be working again tomorrow,” he says as he gets up when visiting hours are over. “I don’t know when they’ll be free to visit. I could…” He hesitates, looking down and pursing his lips. “I could come by again. Bring you more dinner.”

You don’t mind being alone, but you don’t tell him that.

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inkandpen22 · 4 years

Text

Young Hearts Divided (4/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader / James Potter x Female!Reader

Warning: angst, fluff, arguing

Word Count: 2.2k

Part Summary: Y/N receives some troubling news from Dumbledore and she’s left having to make a difficult decision

Masterlist

McGonagall crosses the room to me urgently. “Oh Miss Y/L/N, good you’re awake! You’ll have to come with me,” she instructs, holding her arm out toward the door. “You can leave your things here.”

My mind immediately thinks about my family. My parents and older siblings have renounced the Dark Lord. My mom, dad, and brother work at the Ministry, making them prime targets. My sister is at the Daily Prophet, she write articles against Voldemort frequently. I praise my family for their bravery and plan to follow in their footsteps when I finish Hogwarts. Yet, I can’t lose them, I couldn’t cope.

“What’s this about Minnie?” James questions. I feel his chest against my back as his hand finds my waist, giving it a comfortingly squeeze.

“Is everything alright?” Sirius adds.

McGongall rubs her hands together nervously, her eyes flickering between all three of us. “I think it’s best that Miss Y/L/N hears everything from Professor Dumbledore. It’s none of my business to relay the information,” she urgently waves me along.

I feel like I’m going to sick. McGongall’s purposeful vagueness only makes me worry more. My sight falls to the carpet beneath my feet as I struggle to cope with this overwhelming dread.

“Well I’m coming with her,” James insists, moving to escort me out the Common Room. He takes my hand, but I remain frozen in place.

“Mr. Potter, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’ll make sure she gets there and is okay,” McGongall assures him.

“With all due respect Professor, I think it’s up to Y/N to decide what’s best for her.” James steps over to stand in front of me. His fingers brush under my chin, raising my head to meet his gaze. “Do you want me to come with you?” He asks gently. His eyes filled with worry.

His words sound like a foreign language in my head. Is this what being in a state of shock feels like? My body feels numb while the mind is working overtime. Everything appears strange to me like I’m in a dream or something.

“I… I….” my brows scrunch together with distress as I stutter. Turning over my shoulder, I glance at Sirius. His ink black eyes meet mine and his face softens for the first time since this afternoon. A piece of the weight on my chest subsides as the sight. “I want both of you to come,” I decide.

Sirius’s lips part as surprise etches across his features. He looks behind me to James and his face goes blank. I turn toward James and he continues to glare passed me at Sirius.

“Very well,” McGongall rushes, waving us toward the door. “Come! Come!”

I press a hand to James’s chest, “James…” He snaps out of it, peering down at me with a glimmer in his eyes. “Please…” I quietly plead with him to forget the dramatics for the time being.

He blinks, nodding his head repeatedly as he brushes his head down the back of my head before turning toward Minnie. He gives my hand a squeeze as we head toward the Fat Lady, following McGongall’s hurried pace. James leads ahead by a few steps and Sirius walks by my side. Our eyes meet and I swallow hard, doing everything in my power not to start crying. Sirius, I suspect picking up on this, places his hand on my shoulder sympathetically and offers me a nod of reassurance. I give him a weak smile so he doesn’t worry too much about me. I don’t why I feel the urge to make sure he doesn’t. I suppose it’s because he’s one of my best friends, if not my closest friend.

_____________________________________

I see Dumbledore sat behind his desk looking over papers as I turn the corner. When he hears us enter his office the Headmaster stands. “Miss Y/L/N,” he greets. His brows scrunch together when he notices James and Sirius here too. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asks eerily calmly, moving around his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N requested they be here with her,” McGonagall explains as she crosses the room to stand beside Dumbledore.

“Ah yes, of course,” the Headmaster nods. “Would you three like to have a seat?” He offers, gesturing to the seats and couch behind us.

James and Sirius both look at me to decide. “I think I prefer to stand Sir,” I mumble, afraid my voice may crack if I speak louder.

Dumbledore and McGonagall exchange glances. The Headmaster appears calm and expression, as per usual. McGonagall, however, doesn’t hide her distress well. I can hear my heart rapidly pounding in my chest. James hasn’t let go of my hand once since the Common Room. I stand between him and Sirius feeling two things. One, rather short and two, protected despite the tension ridden situation.

Dumbledore looks at me in the eye, pulling me from my train of thought. “I assume you can guess as to why you have been called here.”

I nod, so I was right to be worried. My family has been gone missing or worse have been killed. James gives my hand a comforting squeeze.

“It’s your brother, Danny,” Dumbledore finally says what I’ve predicted. “He’s missing. He was sent to perform a task on behalf of the Ministry. He never returned. It’s been two days.”

I swallow hard, doing my best to stay composed. "And my parents?”

“They’re both fine, I can assure you," Dumbledore steadily replies. "They’ve written to me and have offered you a choice. You may return home until your brother is located or you may stay here.”

“What about my sister?” Eliza, I hope to high Heaven she's alright.

“She’s alright as well," he guarantees. "She has decided to take time off at the Daily Prophet to be with your parents.”

My brows scrunch together, "she’s left London?”

“Yes, she’s staying at your family’s home."

Dumbledore would never lie, of course, but that doesn't exactly sound like my sister. Eliza is strong-willed and was eager to leave our home as soon as she graduated from Hogwarts. She was overjoyed to get a job at the Daily Prophet and find her own place. I suppose the circumstance has made her reevaluate her priorities.

“I’m sorry to do this Miss Y/L/N, but I must pressure you to make a timely decision," Dumbledore urges, visibly troubled by the responsibility. "You see, your parents and sister will be going into hiding shortly. They'll be relocated to an undisclosed location. Your parents and sister are waiting to hear your decision before they do so. I assured them the safest place for you is here where we can protect you. However, if you choose to return home to your family I completely understand. You will be excused for as long as necessary. I have already taken the liberty of speaking with your professors. Your parents also wrote a letter to you as well to help you with your decision.”

My heart sinks. “You mean if I stay… I won’t be able to communicate with my family or know where they are?! Whether they’re safe for who knows how long?!” I My voice rises accidentally at the Headmaster as I step forward, yanking my hand free from James.

Dumbledore nods, a solemn expression appears on his features. “I’m afraid so.”

I step away, pacing in front of the pensieve case. Nervously, I fiddle with the ring my parents gave me on my sixteen birthday. It's a habit I've picked up when I'm nervous.

"How long does she have to decide?" James questions as I pace away, deep in my own thoughts.

"Are you mad?" Sirius jumps in. "How can Y/N possibly make a decision like this?! Family or protection is really what you're asking here!" He accuses in my defense.

"Now gentlemen-" McGongall says sharply, "we are not enjoying either! I'm sorry, I truly am, but Miss Y/L/N must make haste with her decision!"

James and Sirius continue bickering at the professors, completely ignoring their superiority.

I should go home! There's no other option, it's not yes or not, it's simply yes! My parents must be worried sick! I’m worried sick! The Death Eaters are going to pick us off like flies! I can't abandon my family and stay here like it isn't happening!

“May I see the letter?” I interrupt their deafening chatter.

Dumbledore reaches for an envelope on his desk and holds it out to me. "They informed me that they will write to you as soon as they have the chance."

Dear Y/N,

Your mom and I are so sorry to do this to you. You must know that we have done everything in our power to avoid this conclusion. Your mom would have written this letter herself, but since we heard about Danny she's been tucked away in our room. Eliza is here taking care of her. You would be so proud of your sister, she's been great through all of this.

Whatever you choose my sweet girl, we will understand. Dumbledore is right when he tells you that you're safest at school. Hogwarts is home to so many of us and nowhere is safer than home.

Remember, courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear.

All my love, Dad

I read over the lines repeatedly, seeking an answer to this impossible decision. Then, as I read it again, I comprehend that my dad gave me my answer in his usual philosophical way.

“I’m going to stay,” I declare, folding up the letter.

James steps forward, visibly surprised. "Are you sure, Y/N?"

“It’s be worried here or be worried there," I determine with a nonchalant shrug. "I’m just thankfully that Eliza went back."

"I'll write to them urgently," Dumbledore announces, already moving to sit behind his desk.

"I'll walk you three back to your dormitory," McGongall begins to usher us out. She sends me a sympathetic look which I reciprocate with a weak smile.

James takes my hand as we walk back to the tower. He whispers to me frequently, asking whether I'm certain and to remind me it's not too late to change my mind. His words just fall to silence in my ears. If I didn't know any better, I would think he wants me to go. However, based on how he insists on touching me in some way if I'm in reach, he likes having me around.

McGongall departs from us once the Fat Lady lets us in. "Good night," she bids farewell. "Try to get some sleep."

I'm first to enter the Common Room. I shuffle my feet, feeling like a zombie. Nothing around me feels real anymore. There's a dreadful emptiness. I sit down on the couch at the edge of the cushion as I stare absentmindedly at the distance dwindling fire. I grip my dad's letter tightly in my free hand, the sense of it there brings me ease for some reason. Weeks, maybe even months, will go by before I hear from them again. From now on, this letter will be my most important possession.

Out of my peripheral vision, Sirius sits in the arm chair while James eases down beside me. He places a hand on my back gently. "Y/N? Do you want to talk about it?"

Tears well up in my eyes and threaten to fall as I sit emotionless like a statue. James continues to rub his hand up and down my back comfortingly.

Memories of my family, the five of us always together, flash across my mind. Family vacations, holidays, birthdays, random Saturday mornings, when we were our happiest. Danny, Danny my protective and determined older brother who's always known he was destined for great things. He's out there somewhere in pain and suffering because he believes in a world of acceptance and because he voiced this ideal. He challenged evil and as a result he got burned. I feel so powerless. There's nothing I can do and no fact is more frustrating! Given the chance, I would face Voldemort directly for what he's done! For Danny, my family, all of the other lives he's destroyed due to his greed and malice.

I can feel my blood boiling as I can't get the imagine of my brother in the presence of such an evil being. I can't save him! I can't protect him! I can't do anything! I'm useless! Abruptly, I hear the shattering glass.

"Y/N!" James yells, sounding panicked as he grabs my hand in my lap.

All I can focus on is the pain and frustration. There are no words that can describe the torment that consumes my mind and soul. It goes on and on relentlessly. All it does is continue growing.

Faintly, I see Sirius leaps over the coffee table and appear at my side. He places his hand on my knee. "Y/N..." he whispers.

I flicker my eyes in his direction. His jet black eyes that adore so much glisten with emotion as tears fill his eyes too. Seeing him in dismay makes something in me snap. Tears begin to fall from my eyes freely as I break down crying. I gasp for air, but breathing become impossible. Finally, I express real emotion since receiving the news. Needfully, I grip the fabric of his shirt and weep into his chest. His arms wrap around me like a security blanket. Softly, his hand brushes down my hair as he holds me. He mutters gentle words of assurance as he kisses the top of my head. It takes an ounce of the pain away, yet I still feel as though I'm going to die the grief is too much.

________________________________

Masterlist

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missmentelle · 4 years

Note

Hello So i'm about to move from my parents house into an aprtment with my best friend and her friend as roomates. Do you've got any tips on how to make sure we won't get into huge fights, learning how to be responisble with the bugdet and getting to know her friend more? I am really stressed out about it but there's no going back now

It can definitely be nerve-wracking to live with people you aren’t related to for the first time, whether you are moving in with friends, your partner, or random roommates off the internet. I’ve lived with many, many people over the years - most of them strangers I found online - and the best advice I can give you to make the experience more pleasant is to set ground rules and boundaries early, and to make sure that everyone is on the same page. Even close friends can have very different expectations when it comes to sharing a living space, and the big things that you’ll probably want to figure out are:

Shared expenses. Are common staples like margarine, ketchup, salt, dish soap, toilet paper and cooking oil going to be shared by the entire household, or does everyone have to buy their own? If you are sharing stuff, can one person decide to just go buy stuff that’s running low and ask for reimbursement, or do you all need to agree in advance? My roommates and I used to keep a communal list on the fridge that one person would use to make our monthly Costco run, and we’d all just pay one-third of whatever the total ended up being. You might prefer a similar approach, or you might just take turns paying - ie “I bought the last pack of toilet paper, now you buy the next one”. It depends on your budget, and how good your housemates are about holding up their end of the bargain. If you are on a smaller budget than others, or if one roommate tends to use more than their fair share, it might be less of a headache if everyone just buys their own stuff. It’s also important to figure out how rent and bills will be paid - whose name are they in? Are you paying rent with three separate cheques, or is one person writing a cheque for the whole rent? If one person is writing a cheque, when do you need to give them your portion of the rent each month?

Shared household items and appliances. If everyone has brought some kitchen items - cups, mugs, plates, etc - into the household, is every item totally up for grabs, or are there any special items (like a favourite mug or expensive blender) that not everyone is allowed to use? How is fridge and pantry space going to be divided? Are everyone’s items just put into the cupboards together, or do you each get a cupboard for the things you individually own? Does anyone have any allergies or dietary restrictions - like Kosher or Halal requirements - that make it important for other people to not use their dishes? My roommates and I always put our kitchen stuff together in a jumble and just went with it, but I have friends with strict Kosher roommates who cannot share any kitchenware at all. Will you all chip in to buy shared items like a couch and coffee table, or will one person buy the item and own it by themselves?

Chore schedule. Different people have different standards of cleanliness, and it’s important to figure out how often cleaning should be done so that no one feels like they’re living in a hovel. How quickly should people be doing their dishes - as soon as they’ve finished cooking? Within 24 hours? Or will you eat together and take turns washing dishes? How often will non-daily chores - like mopping the floors, cleaning the shower stall, and cleaning the oven - be done, and who will do them? My roommates and I used to block out 2-3 hours every Sunday as “cleaning time” when we would all deep-clean the apartment together, but you might prefer to have assigned individual chores that you can do on your own time.

Guest policy. Overnight guests and partners are probably one of the biggest sources of tension in a roommate relationship. Namely, how long can you have a guest stay in the apartment with you before they need to start chipping in with the bills? Do you need to give the other roommates advance notice before a guest comes to stay for a while? How many days out of the month can someone’s partner stay over before they effectively become part of the household and need to pitch in with bills and chores? Is it even okay if someone’s partner is staying over constantly, or are you not cool with that at all? Are roommates allowed to give their partners a key to the apartment, or does everyone in the apartment need to be on board before that can happen? My roommates and I had a lot of long-term guests in our tiny Manhattan apartment, but that only went smoothly because everyone was 100% okay with having long-term guests, and we had a hard limit on how many days someone could stay out of the month before they needed to start putting money in our “toilet paper and dish soap” fund.

Shower schedule. If everyone in the apartment is working on a similar Monday-Friday, 9-5 schedule (which is less likely to be the case these days, but still), it’s important to work out a basic schedule for who gets to shower when in the mornings. There is nothing that will make you want to flip out on your roommate quite like being late for work because they took a 45-minute shower when you needed to get ready. If you don’t each have your own ensuite bathroom, figure out who gets the bathroom when in the mornings, or decide who is going to shower at night to avoid conflict.

Quiet hours. At what hours of the day is it inconsiderate for a roommate to be making noise or watching TV in common areas while people are trying to sleep? The answer may depend on the layout of the apartment, your individual work schedules, and how sensitive everyone is to noise. If you have roommates that work nights or are working from home during the day and need quiet for their conference calls, that’s something else to keep in mind.

Breaking the lease. What happens if something comes up, and one person needs to leave before the lease is over? How much notice do they need to give the other roommates? Is it the departing roommate’s responsibility to find someone to take over their bedroom, or would the remaining roommates rather choose who they are living with? If you all pitched in to make a big purchase together - like a couch or a kitchen table - how will that work if one person leaves the lease? And how will the damage deposit be handled? The majority of leases I’ve been on have not had all the original roommates stay until the end, and it was important to plan for that in advance so that no one felt like they’d been tricked into living with someone new that they never agreed to live with.

Above all, the secret to living with roommates is to communicate, and to try to be as considerate of others as you can. The way that you live and manage your finances directly affects your roommates’ quality of life, and everyone needs to put in some serious effort to make sure that everyone gets to enjoy the living space that they are paying for. The money stuff is especially important - talk to your roommates ahead of time about what costs you will be sharing and what costs you won’t, and make sure that you are setting aside the money you need for shared expenses each month so that no one is left holding the bag. And be sure to speak up if other roommates aren’t respecting your needs either - the occasional dirty coffee cup left in the sink or wine spilled on the rug is just a part of life and probably not worth fighting over, but if someone is consistently neglecting their chores, making huge messes, making lots of noise at night or failing to pay their fair share of household expenses, that’s a situation that you need to speak up about, so that you can all try to find a way to resolve the issue. Living with a friend, roommate or partner is all about finding a balance between accommodating other people and sticking up for yourself, and it’s a balance that will be become easier with time.

It’s also important to find time to just enjoy hanging out with your roommates. Yes, living with other people can be scary and stressful, and there may be times when you’re ready to scream because someone ate your ice cream without permission and no one remembered to buy more toilet paper, but there will also be good times, especially if you are living with someone you are already friends with. Some of the best memories of my early 20s were just from hanging out with my roommates - like the time that we got drunk on cheap wine and painted some silly paintings because we couldn’t afford to decorate the apartment properly, or the time we got a huge box of breakfast food from the local diner and stayed up all night watching Game of Thrones, or the time we had to spend all day taking all our IKEA furniture apart in the lobby and carrying it up to our walk-up piece by piece because none of us could lift the boxes, and we barely made it up the stairs because we were laughing so hard. Being young and kind of broke and living with your friends can be a very fun time in your life, and it’s important to enjoy it - hang out together, do silly things, enjoy making mistakes because none of you have any real idea what you’re doing. Just because you have financial responsibilities and a chore chart doesn’t mean that you can’t have fun. Best of luck to you! Miss Mentelle

#Anonymous

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romantic-barnes · 4 years

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unintended | part four

| part four - don’t waste your time or time will waste you |

Pairings: king!bucky x reader | king!steve x twin!sister

Summary: The moment you have come of age, you are being ripped out of the place you call home and into the kingdom of Cydonia ruled by King James, your betrothed. Neither of you pleased with the situation, neither of you being honest. Between fights, snarky remarks and glaring, do you find time to breathe? Is it possible to reconcile or even love one another?

Warnings: slow burn, inaccuracies in term of royal affairs and such,

A/N: i am so so sorry for the delay, but this is pretty long so I hope that makes it ok. this is my entry for @sillyqt 1k writing challenge!! hope you all enjoy!

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

A few days, that’s all you had until you would officially be the wife of King James and the Queen of Cydonia. There was a part of you that screamed and shouted at you for not enjoying your time unwed. For letting (as they call him) Bucky take your thoughts away from more important things.

The only thing keeping you steady is the fact that your sister would be arriving for the wedding. Her and Steve will attend the ceremony and you can finally have your family together in one place again.

As for today, Bucky has arranged a ride through the woods, but you were sure his mother set it up.

An entourage of guards were riding behind you and Bucky, alongside Sam and Clint. It was the same route you rode through with Clint and you were excited to see the flower field again.

The fresh air bit at your cheeks, leaves rustling above you. Bucky was chatting happily with Sam and Clint looked at you from the corner of his eyes. You knew that he wanted to talk about the ball, about what happened. You were confused.

The trees thinned before you and the flowers peaked through, flowers of every colour. Your chest fell and you breathed through your nose. The scent filling your senses. As soon as you rose through the tall field, sun falling from the sky, slowly, a smile spread across your face.

Bucky came to a stop and a blanket was laid out. You sat next to Clint, reaching forward to pick some flowers and bind them together.

Bucky sat looking at you, sun shining orange and yellow across your figure. You looked peaceful. Flowers laid out before you, eyes fixated on your hands as they connected the different flowers together in your delicate fingers.

You smiled as you finished the flower crown, but instead of putting it atop your head, you turned to Clint placing the flowers on top of his hair. Clint laughed striking poses with the crown making you laugh. You missed it but Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

You and the others mounted your horses again, taking the cobbled path back to the palace. You were sure that you could never get tired of the sunsets here in Cydonia. For some reason thy are even better than at home.

As the little house came to view a smile broke out on your face, seeing the family out on the front. You saw the girl from a few days ago sitting on the grass. You got off your horse walking towards the house.

You greeted the family, two boys standing off to a distance shyly and with their mouths agape. You were sure that this didn’t happen often, seeing the King so casually riding by. You dismounted your horse, walking up to the little girl. Her smile was unmatched from the first time you’d seen her, the admiration warming your heart.

“When I grow up I want to be a princess!” The little girl exclaimed with excitement.

You smiled, but within you, you were glad that she wasn’t.

You sunk down to your knees, turning the girl around by her shoulders. “You see that?” You pointed to the line of trees cutting the sky, orange and red painting the blue. She nodded her head. “That’s the horizon. Do you know what’s beyond it?” The little girl shook her head ‘no’ and you giggled. “It is your duty to find that out. To ride to the horizons of the world, sail the sea where the sky meets the water, to leave no part undiscovered and to learn what has not yet been learned and protect what needs protecting. To welcome everyone to follow you on your quest who wishes to, and lead them with care and love.”

You turned the girl to face you, tears welling up in your eyes. You ushered to Clint to hand you the flower crown, holding it above her head. “I hereby announce you the princess of the horizon. May you choose your path and widen your horizon.” With that you lowered the flower crown on her head, cheers erupting around you and you bit back the tears threatening to fall. If you could not do it yourself, then you would inspire someone else to do it.

Bucky watched with adoration. He was sure of it, the fact that you tried to give the girl what you don’t have. The freedom to run to the edge of the world with no one chasing after you. To chose your path amongst many and never slow down. Without the heaviness of the crown crushing your weight. Bucky realized that maybe, just maybe you weren’t so different from him, that your dreams sync up in a way.

But there was the tiny problem that you felt nothing for him, you’ve made that very clear Bucky thought.

You rose from your knees, walking to your horse. A tear escaped from yur eyes, but you were quick to catch it. A look back on the family and you saw the girl swirling, a big smile on her face.

Soon. Soon you’ll have Julia to confine in.

While you were wrapped up in preparations for the wedding, Bucky was struggling to wrap his mind around the different sides you’ve shown him. He was trying to puzzle together the pieces to get a clear picture of the woman he’d be married to by tomorrow. The one who he’ll build a family with.

Bucky asked himself if that would be possible though. For the past days he’d had this strange feeling every time he’d seen you. The was you walk, talk or laugh with your family. The way you behaved when you’re parents were around was something he’d not seen ever since you arrived.

He walked through the corridors, his shoes echoing through the space. Servants carrying candles and golden candle sticks for the wedding. He roamed these halls like every other day. Bucky wasn’t nervous when he became King. His father ensured that he was well prepared for the day he would take on the throne.

Bucky reached the oak wood doors of his mother’s chambers. As soon as he stepped into the room, his mother embraced him in a hug, her face bright and glowing. There aren’t a lot of times where Winnifred, the Queen mother, looked this gradient. It was said she had the same expression when Bucky was born, her wedding and Bucky’s coronation.

“My Bucky, I’m so proud of you.” Winnifred beamed with excitement. “I’ve been waiting for this day for, oh god, way too long.” She cupped his cheeks with her gloved hands.

“I know, mother.” Bucky smiled weakly, his mothers face falling. She took his hands and guided him to the velvet sofa.

“What’s wrong?”

Bucky exhaled, scrambling his brain for the right words to say. “Why did you chose Y/n?”

Winnifred stared at Bucky, eyebrows furrowed together. “She’s perfect, that’s why.”

“I don’t understand.” Bucky tilted his head, rubbing circles on the back of her hands to soothe her.

Her face relaxed. “On my search of a suitable wife and Queen, I met a lot of princesses. A lot of them from finer families than you could imagine, ones with more wealth than the last, education from the most knowledgeable men, princesses who have been trained to perfection. I even considered her sister Julia.”

Bucky’s lips parted. The thought of marrying your sister was odd.

“But when I spoke to their father, I knew that Y/n was the only choice for you. Sure, they’re not the finest family, or the richest, but Y/n loves to travel just like you. The people love her because of her nature, the way she presents herself. Her knowledge expands beyond textbooks, she lives with a sort of freedom that reminded me a lot of you, dear.” His mother caressed his cheek.

Bucky was running her words in his head again and again. If only he wasn’t such an asshole the fist time he met her, maybe she would’ve fallen in love with him. His mother had all the right reasons to chose you and his big head got in the way.

“Mother, I made a big mistake.”

Your brain was going a mile per hour. Between trying the dress on and deciding what jewellery to chose, you barely got the chance to breathe. You were so wrapped up in your head, you didn’t even notice your mother walking through the door. With your head hanging low to look at the different necklaces, you examined every stone, getting lost in the different colours of the rainbows.

“You look beautiful, darling.” Pepper spoke quietly behind you and you looked over your shoulder. Pepper held her hands over her chest, glossy eyed.

You wrapped your arms around her, afraid that she might disappear. “Thank you.” You drew back, Pepper’s eyes roaming the dress until her eyes met yours again.

“I’m so glad you’re happy. You are, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes I am.” You said, but you weren’t sure if it was for your reassurance or hers.

“Good, because I brought a special guest for you.”

You heard the door to your chambers close and as soon as you saw the figure moving towards you, you knew it was Julia.

You let go of our mother, throwing yourself in Julia’s arms. Immediately the forset stared running and your cheeks were wet from tears. You never thought you could miss a person this much. Feeling Julia’s body pressed to yours, the scent of her flowery perfume and the satin of her dress brought a sort of comfort to you like nothing else.

With a shaky sob you pulled apart, taking a good look at your twin. Her hair nicely pinned up, a gold crown sitting atop her head and she already looked like the Queen she would soon be.

“Y/n, you have to idea how much I’ve missed you.” Julia spoke, with teary eyes.

“I’ve missed you more.”

Your mother’s cough interrupted your sweet sisterly moment and you followed her eyes to the person standing at the door.

Steve, the King of Thaumasia, smiling brightly at the two of you, but you were suddenly afraid you had disrespected him by not addressing him first. You lowered yourself in a deep curtsy. “King Steve, I apologise.”

“Princess Y/n, no apology needed, I know you were just as eager to see Julia as she was to see you.” He kissed the back of your hand and upon further inspection, you noticed that he was just as handsome as in the portrait, but he could not compare to Bucky. Wait what? “I heard there will be an archery competition later today?”

Your face lit up as soon as the words left Steve’s mouth. “Yes! I will be participating, of course.” Your smile reached your ears at the thought of it. It is tradition in Cydonia to hold a competition in archery. The winner will choose who will be given the title ‘woman of orchids’. In Cydonia it is a great honour to be chosen, as she will represent the love and fertility of the King and Queen.

“No one will stand a chance!” Julia chimed in, making Steve laugh loudly.

“I look forward to it. Now if you excuse me, I’ll see what Bucky’s been up to.” Steve bowed again before taking his leave.

You changed into a ruby coloured dress made by Natasha’s request and you could tell just by the heaviness that shooting for a target will be a disadvantage for you. The pearls around your neck are a nice addition to the deep red, but not exactly something you would pick for archery.

“Nat, do you think I could wear something less extravagant?” You turned on the spot to look at Natasha.

“No, absolutely not! You look fantastic in this dress and I can’t stand seeing you walk around in those striped dresses any longer.” Nat scrunched her nose, waving her hand in front of her face.

“But I know for a fact that I won’t be able to shoot arrows with this on.” You pointed to the skirt of the dress.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Shoot arrows? You know you won’t participate, do you?”

Your mouth opened and closed. You knew things were different in different kingdoms, but everyone was allowed to participate in tornaments. “Oh, ok.”

You walked off next to Natasha and Clint to the courtyard. From the distance you could see the masses and Bucky, Julia, Winnifred and your parents to the side. You were just as dolled up as they are, but that would stop you from trying to enter.

As you greeted everyone, you sat next to Bucky on the raised platform on cushioned chairs, overlooking the lawn where ten targets were stood a few feet away. All the participants stood on their designated places, getting ready. Your leg was shaking in anticipation and you glanced over to Clint who stood off to the side. The guests from all kinds of backgrounds stood behind the participates, waiting eagerly with their champagne flutes.

There was just one question in your mind and when you turned to Bucky you blurted it right out. “Can I participate, too?”

Bucky was taken aback by your question, but one look to you and he knew that he couldn’t refuse. He could say to just to annoy her, but Bucky knew that that would be counterproductive to his plan, so without hesitation he ordered one of the participants to step down from the competition and gestured for you to take his place.

He watched as you descended the stairs, walking passt all the men staring at you as if they’ve never seen a woman before. It was amusing to Bucky, seeing you walking so confidently and he enjoyed it. Bucky leaned forward watching as you took the bow in your hands as the tournament started.

As soon as the first few arrows flew towards their targets, you knew nobody else stood a chance. Every round after that you proved to the men next to you that you were the best, hitting bullseye every time no matter how far away it was. With the last bow fired, cutting through the air, you knew you had won, but the faces of the guests were still priceless.

“Congratulations to Princess Y/n!” The words left Sam’s mouth and you turned to look at Bucky, your face hurting from the extensive smiling, but you still lowered yourself to curtsy. Sam came forward handing you a flower crown made of different colours and plants. “You may chose you woman of orchids.”

With a few strides you reached the wooden platform, standing in front of Julia. “I hereby chose you, Princess Julia, to be my woman of orchids.” You lowered the flowers on her head. Julia jumped up, hugging you while the people around you erupted in cheers.

From the corner of your eye you saw Bucky standing, clapping, with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. You untangled your arms from around your sister and turned to Bucky. Maybe it was his smile, the proud look on his face, or the feeling of victory, but the urge to kiss that smile off his face was unnerving. Your heart hammered in your chest, taking a step forward. Without thinking much, you got on your tiptoes, placing a gentle and light kiss on his cheek. The look on Bucky’s face was worth the heat crawling up your cheeks as he blinked frantically.

Bucky slowly took the crown from his head, placing it on the cushion with distance in his eyes. Maybe you didn’t resent him as much as he thought. Maybe in the middle of all this you saw what he saw, a partner. Bucky couldn’t make a lot of sense of your sudden affection towards him since you’ve been fairly distant since the ball. Maybe it’s all a show.

A knock on his door pulled him out of the trance like stante and as soon as he saw Steve, relieve washed over him. “Steve, good to see you.”

“Yeah, I feel like now more than ever we have less time for each other.” Steve laughed as he hugged Bucky.

“especially since both of us are getting married.” Bucky poured wine in two goblets, offering Steve one.

“Tomorrow is you big day!” Steve beamed as he sat down on one of the velvet chairs opposite Bucky.

Bucky sighted, turning to look at a portrait of his father. “I just with my bride would be excited too.”

“What do you mean?” Steve scrunched his face. “She seemed pretty happy by your side to me.”

“Well, the thing is we had some... issues.” Bucky looked at his friend, finding nothing but confusion, so he explained everything from the start.

“Bucky, I know you’ve had some issues in the past and with your fathers passing ruling became your number one priority, but you have to understand that it’s not her fault. She has to face the same fate as you.”

Bucky looked down in shame, taking a big swig of wine. “I know. I talked to my mother.”

“That’s not enough.” Steve interrupted him. “You have to talk to Y/n, too. Explain the situation and confess your affection. You have affection for her, do you?” Steve grinned.

“I do, yes. But I’m afraid she doesn’t.

“The only way to find that out is by talking to her. Go to her tomorrow first thing in the morning and clear the air.”

Bucky smiled weakly. “Ok, I will.”

It wasn’t like Bucky was afraid to talk to you, he was afraid of what you would say. The feelings that have manifested were scary to him and to have his heart broken by the one he will marry would only mean unhappiness. And Bucky wasn’t ready to have his heart broken again.

[ next ]

#bucky barnes #king!bucky #prince!bucky #royal!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x you #king!steve #royal!au #king bucky #king bucky x reader #king bucky barnes #clair writes

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years

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Blood in the Rivers: I

A/N: I don’t even know, fam. This was supposed to be just smut but then The Plot happened and now this is 13.4k words and nowhere near finished. Now, it is somehow righting the wrongs D&D (and GRRM, let’s be real) trolled us with. There will be obvious canon-divergence right off the bat.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully)

Rating: M for canon typical violence, canon typical sexism, things get hot and heavy (or at least I try to make them...? Whatever. you be the judge) and my overuse of italics

Word Count: 13.4k (jfc)

Summary: Y/N Tully always knew how to play the part of the perfect lady when someone was watching. It was a game she liked to play, knowing how to act in order to get what she wanted. But now, as the War of the Five Kings rages, Y/N knows she needs allies if she wants to keep her family safe and her head on her shoulders. But in this game, everything has a price.

Chapter One: Plots, Plots, Plots

Smuggling Sansa out of King’s Landing had consumed the youngest Tully. While she played the part of dutiful peon, renouncing her father, uncle, and cousin and their actions against the crown, she was plotting. Sansa was sweet and kind and everything Y/N knew she should be as a highborn lady. Watching Joffrey command Meryn Trent to beat and strip her cousin’s eldest daughter in front of a crowd had only driven her to near madness in her quest to protect Sansa. It only took a handful of weeks for the plan to be finalized. Murmurs of Stannis Baratheon’s impending attack were quickly sweeping through the Red Keep and all of King’s Landing.

She set off toward the Keep’s rookery with two small missives neatly stacked together. An aged maester had been the same guardian of the ravens for decades. Blind in one eye and slow to walk, she knew her window was reasonable but still limited. He was also a loyal dog to the queen. Each of her movements would be whispered in Cersei’s ear by lunch.

She stepped into the rookery and resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at the scent of shit and dirt and dust. It was just another reminder of how far away she was from Riverrun and its clean air, always scented with the mist and overgrown grasses.

The Maester stood slowly from his cluttered desk and offered her a small smile. “Ah, Lady Tully. How may I help you?”

She held up the slips of parchment to make it look like a single letter. “A missive for my Uncle Hoster.”

“Ah,” the maester said, the sound catching in his throat. “Another plea for him to see reason?”

“Of course.” She handed over the carefully written and brief letter while tucking the other into her palm.

The maester read it and nodded. “You are a service to your house, my lady.”

She pressed a pleased smile to her lips and dipped her head demurely, as she had half a dozen times before. Edmure and Hoster were aware that she would be pressed to write stupid letters like the one in the maester’s spindly fingers. The only truth written in those missives were that she loved them. “I thank you for that.” She then plucked it from his fingers with another smile and started to walk backward toward the cage.

“May I send it for you, my lady? The ravens here tend to be fickle beasts if they do not know your face.” The maester smiled kindly and held out his hand for her letter again.

But she shook her head and continued backward. It was true, usually her letters were taken directly from her desk and sent off without having to go to the rookery herself—but this called for a change. She’d visited the rookery last week to see how it was divided between the realms and she could time how quick she needed to be in her task; it had been under the guise of being lost looking for the Grand Maester to “ask for guidance as to how to bring her errant father and uncle back under the guidance of the Crown.” It was all so easy to play the part of mindless crown loyalist. “The ravens of Riverrun have always adored me—I do not see why these would be any different. But I do thank you for the offer.”

She skittered through the door and quickly found the correct batch of ravens and fastened the small slip of parchment to the raven’s leg and set it loose before flittering over to the ravens meant for Riverrun and tying the other. She set that one loose a little slower as she heard the maester step into the large cage with his uneven gait. She made a bit of a show of watching the raven fly away in the window and turned and heaved a hearty sigh.

“They seem to like you.” He chuckled, another dry, rasping sound.

“Yes, I suppose.” Another exaggerated sigh. “I do hope Lord Tully listens to reason this time.” She then curtseyed and walked away. The maester looked relieved as she said goodbye to him and took her leave of the rookery.

But it was done.

And when the Red Keep was essentially barricaded against the coming attack, she knew her time had come. She slipped out of Maegor’s Holdfast without too much fanfare. Cersei was drunk and had requested more wine anyway. Y/N saw the opportunity for what it was and left the Holdfast under the guise of serving the Queen, just ahead of schedule.

Sounds of the battle echoed through the strangely empty halls as she hurriedly made her way toward her destination. Quiet footsteps soon followed her and she skirted around a corner and pulled out the small dagger she’d hidden in her sleeve. But it was poor Sansa who had followed her—much earlier than what they had agreed upon.

“I-I’m sorry!” Sansa whimpered as she stared at the sharp edge of her “cousin’s” blade.

“You are fine, my little one. I’m sorry I almost cut you.” She quickly hid the dagger away and took Sansa’s hand, leading her back toward her chambers. The older of the two was equal parts relieved and shocked to see the Hound waiting in Sansa’s rooms. “Sandor.” His name came like a rushed breath. “You are early.”

“I’m not doing-”

“Take Sansa to Dorne.”

Both of them gaped at the request.

“What?” It was Sansa who finally broke the tense silence of the room. “Dorne? B-but, I-”

She gathered the Sansa’s hands in her own and kissed her shaking fingers. “You will be safe. Sandor will see you there without harm. Everyone will think you’ve gone North and scavenge and pillage looking for you. No one will think to look for you in Dorne. The Martells have no love for the Lannisters even with the betrothal of Trystane and Myrcella. They will know of your story.” She knew it to be a shaky alliance to begin with, especially with Myrcella being betrothed to Trystane. But betrothals could be broken and their memories were long. And this was the best option for Sansa. The only.

“You won’t come with me?” Tears gathered in her eyes.

She shook her head. “I must let them think they’ve won. I still have a part to play in this game.” She then turned to the taciturn soldier. “What say you, Sandor? Will you deliver Sansa to Dorne? Keep her safe, unharmed, and untouched?”

His burnt face twisted in a grimace. “I should take her North. Like I said-”

“But you will not. South is safe. Keep her safe.” She bent and pulled something from her skirts—a small satchel of coin. She pushed it into his hands when he didn’t move to accept it.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ coin-”

“This is for food and shelter during your travels. Take it. Now.” She only let herself smile when he did. “You may not believe in knighthood, Sandor. But you are the only man I’ve met who even compares to a true knight.”

The burnt man frowned at her words but didn’t say anything. He took several steps back as Sansa flung her arms about Y/N’s shoulders in a fierce embrace.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, little one. Now, you must stay alive.” A handful more of quiet encouragements and goodbyes were spoken before she pulled a small sack from beneath Sansa’s bed and handed it to her. “A few dresses for the warmer weather. And I stole some lemon cakes from the kitchens.”

Sandor snorted.

Sansa nodded with tears in her eyes and let out a shaking breath as Y/N kissed her forehead. “Go, Sansa. Live.” She watched Sansa place a shaking hand in Sandor’s before they quietly disappeared into the night.

Outside, the battle raged on. Y/N slipped out of Sansa’s chambers and walked toward the Holdfast once again. She hid away in a darkened passageway and once again drew her dagger. It didn’t take long for her to complete the final task of her plan for the night. She had grabbed a jug of wine from the kitchens and let it slip from her fingers with a crash before turning the blade on herself. Pain bloomed through her stomach and her dagger clattered to the ground, slipping from her now-slick, reddened grip. “Help me!” She screamed, forcing tears to her eyes. “Help me!”

Life in King’s Landing hadn’t particularly changed since the Tyrells had arrived. Of course, people whispered about Sansa’s disappearance—her favorite rumor was that Sansa turned into a wolf and raced into the battle herself. And Y/N’s stab wound had earned her a strange sort of awe around the court. Stabbed for wine, the stupidity of it all. The official story was that a kitchen maid had tried to steal some jewels (or just food, depending on who was asked) and little Lady Tully had caught the maid in the act before she fled into the night. They stopped by the time her wound had healed. As she sat across from Olenna Tyrell in the gardens, Y/N suddenly wondered if she had finally met an adversary worthy of her time or another ally. Margaery, the beauty and new betrothed to the Brat King, Joffrey after the ‘victory’ of the Battle of the Blackwater, seemed amiable enough as she sat beside her grandmother but a beautiful face often hid an ugly heart. Cersei was proof of that enough.

“You know, a cousin of mine was nearly scandalized by your father,” Olenna said as the tea was poured.

“Scandalized?” she parroted, feeling a smirk touch the corner of her lips. She knew exactly the story she was thinking of. “Surely not.”

“Oh yes. Our father tried to marry her off to Brynden Tully and he said no. ‘No!’ like she was some underfed calf.” She laughed. “It was the most childish fit she’d ever thrown.” Olenna waved away the servants as soon as the plate of lemon cakes was placed upon the table, nearly tipping the bowl of berries. “She eventually married some Vyrwel boy. And your father,” Olenna’s dark eyes suddenly pinned her guest, “married your mother.”

“I’ve heard stories of them, even in The Reach,” Margaery said with a kind smile.

Something tight twisted in her stomach at that, as it always did when a beautiful woman fixed her with a gaze. “I’ve heard a song the Valemen sing. I was unaware that my parents’ union was such fodder for stories across The Realms.” She stirred a bit of honey into her tea, fighting a smile as she always did when she heard of her parents. Some claimed to know her parents as they truly were, but few did. Few knew their story as it actually happened.

“Well, when someone as lofty as a Tully marries a lowborn girl nearly half his age--from Pentos, no less--it is sure to cause quite a stir.” Olenna arched an eyebrow, daring her to refute it. “No matter how pretty.”

“Love is a precarious thing. I cannot fault my father for whom he loved.”

“Love! Pah! Love is for stories and songs.”

“Grandmother, please. I am to be married soon—you said you loved grandfather and I know my lord father loves mother.”

“They learned to appreciate each other, dear girl. There is a difference.”

“I believe in love,” Margaery said, full of conviction but still smiling.

“And you, Lady Tully? Little Fish? Do you believe in love? You are past the age of majority. How you have not yet been married off is a mystery. You are highborn. Wealthy. Beautiful. Did your parents always plan for you to be a septa? A silent sister?” Olenna asked.

A poorly hidden titter nearly sloshed the tea from her cup. “Truly, I do not know.”

The older woman hummed. “I still find it strange that you were not at least introduced to someone after your first flowering.” She sipped her tea. “Have you spoken with your father?”

“No, my lady. He has taken to King Robb’s service.”

“Oh, yes, and to leave your unwed daughter in the Lion’s Den.” She huffed. “Lord Tully, too.”

“Grandmother,” Margaery softly chided.

“It is true and you know it.”

“It is true,” she acknowledged. But she trusted them just as they trusted her.

“But your uncle—he must have had some sense of duty to you.”

Y/N nodded. “Hoster Tully’s duty to me was to see me educated and fed. He succeeded at both. Exceeded at everything else a doting uncle usually deems necessary.” He had allowed her to train with blades and horses when she had excelled past her Maester and Septa’s teachings. It had been hidden from Court at Riverrun. But she had been a natural in that regard, too. She loved to spar and run wild with her horse in the fields and lands around Riverrun. It felt like another life. Or a lifetime ago.

Olenna leaned forward with an odd gleam in her eye. “Oh yes. I’ve heard you were sent as part of the Riverlands delegation when that band of raiders was running amok. The rest of the company left after Eddard lost his head—but not you. You stayed.”

“Leaving Sansa alone in the capital was not an option.”

“Yes, yes. Sansa Stark. The disappeared.”

Margaery shifted in her seat and took a bite of lemon cake, eyes warm but still calculating. But she continued to let her grandmother steer the conversation. “I have been told you were quite close to your cousin’s daughter. She confided in you, did she not? About King Joffrey.”

She took a sip of her tea and regarded the pair. Oh, yes. A formidable match indeed. This was either a half-hearted attempt at tricking her into admitting treason or a true plea for fact.

“Only Sansa would be able to divulge all the small details, I assume. But you will have to do, won’t you? Who else would know better in this wretched city?” Olenna pinned her with another stare. “We’ve heard some troubling tales. Is there any truth to them? Has this boy mistreated Sansa?”

She hummed and spied a man passing by, almost hidden by the bushes and greenery. “King Joffrey, His Grace is very fair and as brave as a lion.”

Olenna huffed as her granddaughter rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, all Lannisters are lions. And when a Tyrell farts, it smells like a rose.”

Margaery finally spoke, leaning forward in her seat, a sea of pretty blue fabric washing across the stone pavers as she moved. “But how kind is he? How clever? Has he a good heart, a gentle hand? I’m to be his wife; I only want to know what that means.”

Keeping quiet at a time like this was a simple tactic. Needing information made people desperate. Or agitated.

“Are you frightened, child?” Olenna huffed. “No need for that. We’re only women here.”

“And the men in the bushes behind you?”

“Loyal to me and only me.”

“And who are you loyal to, Lady Olenna?”

A small smile touched the woman’s lips. “You are a brazen one, aren’t you? Your father must be so proud.”

And she could not stop her own smile. “He is. I’m sure.”

“I am loyal to my family and my family alone. No harm will come to you, Little Fish.”

That was enough for her, satisfied that the Tyrells were self-serving enough to keep her counsel. “Eddard Stark always told the truth.”

“Yes, he had that reputation,” Olenna said with a nod.

“And they named him traitor and took his head. Joffrey did that. He promised he would be merciful and he cut Eddard’s head off. And he said that was mercy. Then he took Sansa up on the walls and made her look at it.” Rage bubbled under her skin as she remembered how broken Sansa had been, bleeding lip and tearful eyes, as Sandor lead her back to her chambers after that terrible scene. Someone as kind and pure as Sansa never deserved it. On the other hand, Margaery did not either. But there was a steely resolve and cunning tenacity that made her believe the Tyrell girl could bend just about anyone to her will. “He’s a monster.” There, she had said it.

“That’s a pity,” Olenna said, her tone making it seem like she’d had believed all the rumors anyway. Margaery sighed, looking disappointed.

“Will you stop the wedding?” She asked.

Olenna shook her head. “Have no fear. The Lord Oaf of Highgarden is determined that Margaery shall be queen. Even so, we thank you for the truth.”

For a while, they simply spoke about the wedding details and she did find the pair’s wit quite enjoyable. They never minced words and appreciated how they instantly seemed to know that she could hold her own.

“But if I never see another stitch of that red and gold, it will be too soon.”

“It is as if you are marrying a Lannister instead of a Baratheon,” Y/N hummed, plucking a berry from the plate. “Would you prefer the black and gold?”

“She looks quite fetching in gold,” Olenna said with an easy smile, one of the few she noticed the Queen of Thorns only reserved for her granddaughter. “But what of you, Little Fish? Your colors are blue and red.”

“I’ve never been fond of them. My father took the moniker of Blackfish and I have taken it as well. I much prefer black and red.”

“Black and red,” Margaery laughed lightly. “Like a little Targaryen.”

“Well,” she said with a light laugh, “we both have scales.”

Olenna tilted her head to the side, purveying the young woman in front of her for a moment. “Have you ever been to The Reach?”

“No, my lady. I do hope to visit Oldtown one day.” She answered honestly, confused by the change of subject.

Olenna clucked, smirk pulling at her lips. “Well, I have a proposition for you.”

“Lady Tully.” The small group of women turned to see Tywin Lannister strolling into the gardens. “Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery,” he added, with a tip of his head. “May I speak with you, Lady Tully?”

Y/N turned to Olenna, eyes pleading. Please do not make me leave with him.

“Now.” Apparently that wasn’t an option.

She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and stood, pressing another smile to her lips. “Of course.” She turned back to Olenna. “Thank you, Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery, for the tea.”

“Of course, dear. You are always welcome at my table.” The Queen of Thorns, for her all her prickly nature and stinging words, actually looked troubled for the younger woman. “Take Ella with you. No young woman should be unaccompanied.” Another woman, probably one of Olenna or Margaery’s retinue, appeared as her name was said and tipped her head toward Tywin and Y/N in turn.

Y/N nodded at them and made her way to Tywin’s side who quickly made it clear that Ella was to stay several paces back. Ella did as she was told but arched an eyebrow as she made eye contact with her one-time charge. “How can I help you, Lord Tywin?” She let him lead, further into the gardens, the greenery growing higher and thicker with each step. She never wanted to be near the old lion. His reputation preceded him in every way and the fact that he felt the need to be alone with her only served to increase her trepidation. They had been introduced only two days prior, by a smirking Cersei, who had boasted of her father’s achievements at length before mentioning, however briefly, that Y/N was “much more amiable than her cousins.” A tentative compliment, to be sure. The old lion had kissed her hand and smirked at her, rolling her stomach, but she knew how to tip her chin demurely and curtseyed out of practiced politeness before she was dismissed.

But now she was here, in the gardens, largely unaccompanied by the man responsible for the death of the dragons an age ago and the one who set in motion all of her family’s tragedies.

“The Queen speaks highly of you.”

“Her Grace is too kind. It is I who should speak highly of her. She has fed me and housed me when my family has taken the side of traitors.” The words were acid on her tongue. Lies upon lies upon lies. “I am forever in her debt.” Tywin smirked and she fought the urge to let her lip curl in a snarl. “But I’m sure you did not ask me to walk with you to speak of your daughter.”

“You are correct. The Realm is still at war. Your family has held Riverrun for generations. While it is possible for the Crown to raise another family to Lord Paramount of the Trident, it always ends in more bloodshed. But you are smart—loyal.”

The conversation was quickly spiraling into unfamiliar and dangerous territory. “I thank you, my lord. I know the Realm needs stability now more than ever.”

“Yes. Stability.” The word sounded strange on his tongue. “Exactly.”

Frantic footsteps behind them drew their attention and she was thankful for it, whomever it was, and turned to see who had come. It was her handmaiden, a pretty girl named Daisy from the Stormlands who had once been Myrcella’s chambermaid before the princess was shipped off to Dorne.

“My lady!” She was out of breath and then blushed a violent shade of red as she noticed Tywin and quickly dropped into a curtsey. “Lord Hand, I beg your pardon.”

“What is it, girl?”

Ella started to laugh at his displeasure but hid it behind a sneeze.

“You have a raven, my lady. I know you prefer to read them promptly.”

Relief washed over her like a wave. “You are a treasure, Daisy. I thank you.” She turned to Tywin and curtseyed. “I must take my leave, Lord Hand. I am hoping it is from my father or uncle. I do believe I might have reached their hearts and minds in regards to this traitorous alliance with my Northern-wed cousin.”

“I will speak again with you soon, my lady.” He grasped her hand before she could leave and pressed another kiss to her knuckles. “I wish you luck with your troublesome family.”

She pressed a smile to her lips and knew it appeased him with the smirk he gave her as she curtseyed again and then quickly walked away, Daisy struggling to keep pace. She made sure to touch Ella’s hand in thanks before she rejoined the Tyrell retinue, and then quickly made her way to her chambers.

As the door to her chambers closed, Daisy quickly pulled the letter from her skirts with a small smile. It was still sealed with not a trace of one trying to decipher its inner secrets. She pulled a gold dragon from a small satchel tied about her waist and dropped it into Daisy’s palm, as she did every time the maid gave her a letter and guaranteed her secrecy. While the ravens from Y/N were many, those coming to her were few—a precious few. Daisy was tasked with retrieving them from the rookery before the maester could read them and then make a false report to one of Cersei’s many spies about its contents. The girl was trustworthy, worth her weight in gold—and she paid her thus. Daisy’s own vendetta against the Lannisters had started when the Lannister men stormed the streets of King’s Landing in an attack against Eddard Stark and his Northern bannermen. Jory Cassel, head of Eddard’s personal guard, had been killed. No one knew of Jory’s torrid affair with young Daisy, but Daisy had sworn retribution, something she knew she could use and quickly schooled the maid in how to play the part of dutiful, whispering servant.

The pair would have their vengeance. But it was a long game and Y/N didn’t mind parting with the gold dragons Hoster had sent her with to keep an ally. “Who did you say this was from today?”

“Your cousin, Edmure, my lady. Saying that he wishes you well but cannot see your reasoning.”

“Perfect.”

Daisy preened with the praise and helped herself to Y/N’s jug of wine as she usually did when Y/N read her letters.

The seal popped open and left a smear of red across the parchment. It creaked under her grip, like it had been baked and then left to dry in a desert sun.

Your bird has found her way to Sunspear.

The letter took her a moment to understand—her bird? What could that possibly…Sansa.

Y/N pressed the letter to her chest with a relieved sigh. She’d made it—far faster than she anticipated. She quickly read the rest.

Your letter to my brother Doran was a most welcomed surprise. She is unused to the heat but becoming accustomed to it. She is a loved guest—but she understands she cannot fly in certain halls. We do have golden cats here at the palace. House Nymeros Martell will keep her safe until she is ready to fly home.

The sigil stamped at the edge of the brief message was a sun pierced by a spear, standard of the Dornish ruling house, but a red viper was also wrapped around the tip of the weapon—mouth open and hissing.

“Oh little one,” she mused, finger brushing against the snake. “You have found yourself quite a champion.” Whispers of the Red Viper of Dorne had reached even her chambers in Riverrun. Bold, brash, and deadly, she was well aware of the Prince of Dorne. Oberyn. She always thought it a beautiful name. And if the rumors of his eight bastard daughters were true, he must have a face to match. And, if the rumors that he liked the company of both men and women were true, she’d found a kindred spirit.

“Good news, my lady?”

“Very good, Daisy.” She quickly touched the parchment to the flame of a nearby candle and watched it burn and smolder until only the corner was left and the tips of her fingers were near burnt. She scooped the ash into her palm and dumped it out of the window, watching the evidence of their subterfuge disappear in the wind.

The letters continued come at uneven intervals, keeping her informed at how Sansa was faring in Dorne. His missives, however brief, always left her a bit warm in the face.

Your little bird speaks of you often. Of your sweet nature and devotion to your loved ones. I am honored that you have deemed my House worthy or your trust. We will not fail you.

But I do wish to know you; to know your face as I know your heart.

And then another:

Your bird misses you. My brother has taken her under his tutelage and she is flourishing. I grower curiouser and curiouser about you with each passing day.

Words like that were scrawled across each letter she received and she treasured each new one as much as the last and always hated when she had to burn them to ash. They had become a small bright spot to her strange life in the Red Keep. A secret all her own that made her smile without care.

But, she knew she was being watched when she was not in the haven of her rooms. The Mountain had returned from “the Westerlands” and had resumed his place in King’s Landing—but she knew he had been the leader of the band of raiders in the Riverlands all those months ago. He had been the reason she was here in the Red Keep.

And he surely made his presence known.

Ser Gregor seemed keen to keep her within his sights. The Mountain leered at her and was unrepentant when he would make wildly inappropriate comments in highborn company about the shape of her hips or the heaviness of her breasts. Y/N was sure the only reason he had not approached her was because someone with enough power had expressly forbidden him from touching her.

But he was waiting—she knew. She could feel his eyes on her wherever she moved.

It unnerved her to no end. The small blades she had sewn into her dresses and hidden in her chambers gave her a small bit of comfort but she continued to play the part of a woman unaware of the eyes she caught and persisted to find a small amount of joy in her quiet chats with Daisy and her infrequent letters from Dorne or her quiet prayers to the Seven for the safety of her family.

But that was irrevocably torn asunder with new from The Twins.

The Red Wedding, they called it. Whispered the crude name for it in the halls as she passed. She held her head high and kept her tears silent in the darkness of night, soaking her pillow until she exhausted herself. Her cousin Catelyn, her son—her beautiful Robb who had made her laugh when she’d been fostered at Winterfell for two years—gone. Edmure was imprisoned and her father in the wind. Her family…gone in a single night.

It took the Queen and her father three days to summon the last “loyal” Tully to the throne room. Joffrey was there too, perched on the Iron Throne with a sneer. She curtseyed and smiled at them as if she hadn’t felt like a dagger had wedged its way between her ribs and twisted.

“The King in the North is dead,” Joffrey jeered. “Yes, I’ve heard, Your Grace. A great victory.” Her voice was steady.

That was not the emotion Joffrey wanted nor expected because he continued, “your traitor family—wiped out! Dragged to-”

“That is enough, Joffrey,” Tywin said with an even tone as he eyed her, quickly shutting up his grandson.

“What my family did was treasonous and stupid. Rebelling against the Crown was an act of war. Their deaths are only another act of war. Men die, Your Grace. It is better that it happened sooner rather than later for the betterment of the Realm.”

Joffrey seemed placated and looked so much like his mother as he held his nose in the air. “I see you are a reasonable woman. It is a shame your family could not follow your example.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She could feel the bile turn in her stomach and then rising like a terrible wave up her throat. “Is there anything you require of me?”

“The Freys have been raised up to Lords of Riverrun.”

And now something cold gripped her stomach. But what of what Tywin had said just a few suns ago? “Oh.” It was all she could say.

“But,” Tywin continued, “it is only temporary. Until you find a suitable husband.”

“That is very kind, Lord Tywin.” It was not kind. It was a threat. They meant to shackle her to someone they knew was loyal, too. Shaping the Riverlands into another realm under their thumb. And if they thought she was loyal, they would probably assume she would leap at any match they sought to bring.

Cersei, with almost a sincere smile, stepped down a few steps toward her. “We will make sure the match is agreeable to you, Lady Tully. I would not see you married to a brute.”

That was when her chin wobbled, a crack in her mask. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

A brute. A brute. A brute.

All her life, marriage had seemed like some far off arrangement. Her father had never pressed her to marry and Uncle Hoster had avoided it entirely. Being confronted with its inevitability had shaken something in her marrow.

Daisy had told her to spend some time in the market to “buy something overpriced and shiny” for some semblance of happiness.

“I do it all the time when my thoughts fall to my Jory.” Daisy gave her a soft, sad smile but quickly waved it away. “It is why I have so many beautiful things!”

That is how she found herself surrounded by the thrum of King’s Landing, weaving between people as she looked at various stalls of goods and wares and foods. Daisy had left her side a few moments ago to barter with some woman over a filigreed hair pin. She was in need of a new inks and parchment and possibly a pair of earrings to wear to the wedding ceremony in just a few days. Finding the ink and parchment was easy—and the ink was a pretty blue, almost the Tully shade and she had swiftly purchased three wells of it. Daisy flittered by for a moment to check on her before disappearing into the crowds again.

As she looked over the various “shiny things” Daisy insisted she look at, Y/N collided with someone. The scent of citrus and foreign, floral perfume engulfed her in a cloud as she was caught at the wrists and saved from falling to the cobblestone street.

“Forgive me, my lady,” she quickly said as she righted herself, not even looking at the woman she had nearly toppled. “I must take care to look where I am going.”

A delightful laugh pulled her attention and her tongue quickly glued itself to the roof of her mouth. The woman in front of her was stunning. Dark, luscious hair tied in a loose braid, away from her sharp, unfairly beautiful features, and draped in shades of orange and yellow which only highlighted the tan tone of her skin. She was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Cousin Edmure, if he was at her side, would have surely nudged her by now, used to how she would become tongue-tied around women. The Tullys had been aware of her partiality to women—Edmure had once caught her being kissed by one of their sworn houses’ ladies in the dim light of Riverrun’s halls and had simply sighed. She had always been drawn to both men and women. It was just that it seemed like beautiful women greatly outnumbered the men she could tolerate.

And now she was basically awestruck by this woman.

“I am no lady,” the woman said. “And I do believe it was I who stumbled into you.”

The man behind the stall they were standing in front of loudly cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows, silently telling them to buy something or move.

The woman laughed again and grabbed Y/N’s hand and led her down the nearest alleyway and leaned against the cool stone of the building as she released her hold. A basket of flowers was tucked under her arm and golden, swirling earrings dripped from her ears. “You are a quiet one, aren’t you?”

“N-no, I just…”

“Have never seen a Dornishman before?” The woman supplied, head tilted to the side with a soft smile.

“No, I mean. I have, but you are very—what did you mean, ‘I am no lady’?” She quickly stopped her poor stumbling and bit at her bottom lip, trying to will the embarrassment away.

“I am a bastard. Born of passion.”

“Oh.” She paused. And then held out her hand. “I’m Y/N Tully.” Being a bastard or low-born mattered very little to Y/N. Her mother’s own low-born, foreign standing had been held over her head for as long as she had remembered. It wasn’t fair. Her parents loved each other, loved her. It was a mindset that made her differ from most of her peer group but she did not mind. (Even when her cousin Catelyn had told her that Jon Snow, Eddard’s bastard, was not to be associated with. She had found him great company and loved his soft, low voice when they would speak in the cover of moonlight at Winterfell. It all seemed like ages ago, now.)

The woman paused, eyebrow cocked, before she smiled and took her hand, soft, long fingers curling around her own and Y/N shivered. “Ellaria Sand.”

“What brings you to King’s Landing?” She asked, finding her footing with speaking with the woman—finally. “Surely it is not the markets. I have heard the bazaars of the Shadow City are one of the wonders of the Seven Kingdoms.” She lowered her voice. “And I assume Dorne smells much better.”

Ellaria laughed. “It does. That is why I came to the markets.” She held up her basket of flowers. “For something sweet to smell in my rooms while I am in the capital.” Roses and lavender and little red flowers known as dragons breath were piled high and already smelled sweet and fragrant.

“Wonderful choices. I have resorted to keeping perfumed oil under my nose.” She grimaced at revealing her silly secret. “But I shall not keep you any longer. My apologies for pulling you from your day.”

Ellaria pulled a rose from her bundle and quickly plucked the thorns and cut the stem before tucking it behind the younger woman’s ear. “Apologize for nothing, Lady Tully.” She stood straight and smiled, making her poor heart flutter. “I shall see you again.” And then she walked away, leaving Y/N with a flower in her hair and her heart in her throat.

Olenna was sitting behind a dark wood desk as Y/N was led into her chambers. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains and the room smelled of cinnamon and tea. She waved a hand, signaling the younger woman to sit at the chair across from her and for the servant to leave. As the door closed, Olenna offered her a bowl of berries which she quickly helped herself to with a soft ‘thank you’ and matching smile.

“I will be frank. I know the Lannisters wish to marry you off to some oaf of a man who will do anything they say.”

She choked on a berry.

“You are a smart girl, Little Fish. Far smarter than you let anyone see.”

“Lady Olenna-”

“You have helped my family, let us help you. While I would prefer to present you to Willas, he is heir to Highgarden and Tywin Lannister is sure he would see you as the Lady of Riverrun. We will present Loras as a potential suitor for you. He would make a fine husband for you and I know you will understand his leanings.”

Without a berry to choke on, she now wheezed out a breath. Ser Loras’ leanings were an open secret to many. While it did not bother Y/N any, she didn’t understand the logic. “I am failing to see how this will help my cause.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at women—far more often than you look at men. You are not nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

“Hm.” Was all She could say. Denying it was a fruitless and draining endeavor. Olenna seemed to be at peace with Loras and his proclivity for the male form so she didn’t see the need.

“So, you two could put to rest any sort of whispers and then reign in the Riverlands without the press of the Lannisters at your throats.”

“And of children? Heirs?” Children had always been a hope for her, not out of duty but she had always wanted a little one to hold and call her own.

“I’m sure you two could work something out,” Olenna tittered. “You’re resourceful.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh. “I will take your offer into consideration, my lady.”

Olenna waved her away with a small smile and Y/N left her rooms feeling a little strange. It was a blessing to have an ally such as Olenna Tyrell, but knowing that she would not truly see or help in the goal to see the Lannisters wiped from existence left something sour in her mouth.

The only true allies she could identify, outside of her family, were the Martells.

Just the thought of Sansa being safe—being alive—usually had her standing a little straighter. And now she had Oberyn, the faceless-but-surely-handsome Oberyn, to lift her spirits, too. It had been some time since his last letter, stating that Sansa had taken to reading to his youngest daughter, Loreza. It seemed Sansa had found a happy life in Dorne.

She just hoped she could make it last.

She rounded the corner, nearly at her chambers when the familiar scraping of metal against stone stopped her. It was the Sabaton and Greave of a heavy armor, stomping through the halls of the Keep. And she knew who those steps belonged to—only one man could shake the ground like that.

“Tully.”

She froze.

Gregor Clegane stood at end of the hall, just in front of her chamber door with his helmet shoved beneath his arm. He sneered as he looked at her and, despite the distance between them, she felt like she could feel him breathing, sticky and disgusting, against her neck.

“Clegane.” She spit out the name. Her heart was thundering behind her ribs in an angry beat. The very sight of him made her wish for a blade. While Sandor was (reluctantly) kind at heart, there was nothing redeemable about his older brother. His three dead wives, the suspicious death of his younger sister, Sandor’s mutilating burn. All of it was Gregor. His soul was charred ash.

His face split in a sneer. “You have been hiding from me, girl.”

She held up her chin, defiant. “I hide from nothing. Certainly not a mindless sword such as you.”

His sneer disappeared, lips curling to bare his teeth, yellow and crooked. “I’ve killed men for less.”

“I’m sure you have. But not me.” Her fists curled into the skirts of her dress, slick with sweat. “You will never touch me.”

“I will break you, girl. Have you screaming beneath me like a common whore.”

“Lady Tully!” Tywin Lannister strode into the hall, light eyes focused solely on her.

And she had never been so thankful to see the old lion. “Lord Tywin.”

His gaze turned to The Mountain and his thin lips pressed into a hard line. “You are dismissed, Ser Gregor.”

The knight bowed and walked away, but not without raking his eyes over her one last time. She tried not to shiver as her stomach rolled in disgust.

“He is a fine swordsman but an embarrassment to high-born company.”

That was an understatement. “How may I help you, Lord Tywin? I assumed the Small Council was still in congress at this hour.”

“We adjourned early.” He stepped closer and she had to will herself to not take a step back out of reflex. Just as she was with Gregor, she was alone with Tywin Lannister. She had traded one monster for another. “Walk with me.” He grasped her arm and gave her very little choice in the matter, almost dragging her through the stone halls. “His Grace’s wedding to Margaery Tyrell is in a few short days. As you will be the only member of your household attending, I would deem it wise to have you sit at the head table, at our side. It would not be appropriate for you to be unattended.”

The fact that he seemed to believe his own logic was infuriating. It was only exacerbated by the fact that she could not refute it. But she knew there was more than her propriety at stake. “That is most gracious, Lord Tywin. But would it be polite? I am not of His Grace’s family nor a Tyrell.”

Tywin stopped and forced her to do the same. He turned to her and his cold fingers slid down her arms, barely touching before he grasped her hands and held them up, just under his chin so she could feel his breath against her fingers. “Your concern for my family’s reputation is honorable, Lady Tully. But I insist. You will sit beside us.” He looked her in the eye and pressed a kiss to her knuckles before releasing her hands.

She quickly curtseyed. “Of course, Lord Tywin. As you wish.”

“Wonderful.” He drew out the syllables. “I have one other gift for you. I would have you attend the Small Council meetings so that you may learn how to properly govern Riverrun when we seat you on your ancestral throne.”

The invitation was shocking. Very few women were privy to such gatherings and she knew, in any other life, that she would be enamored with the idea and anyone who offered it so openly. But this was Tywin Lannister. And Lannisters always pay their debts. But he was never going to let her refuse. She knew it. “It would be an honor, Lord Tywin. I thank you for the guidance.”

He smirked, as if knowing he’d won, and they said their goodbyes before she quickly walked to her chambers, desperate for her original destination. She flung open the door and then quickly locked it behind her. Hot, angry tears blurred her vision as she leaned her forehead against the wood. They slid down her cheeks in thick rivulets and only served to make her angrier. She pushed away from the door and flopped onto her bed with a huff, feeling very much like a child—petulant and powerless.

Everything was quickly slipping away from her and out of her control. All of it, all of the placating gestures, the twisting of her morals to survive to help Sansa escape, the planning. All of it. All of it was falling apart. She should have left with Sansa. Everything would have been easier. She curled a pillow into tried to will herself to sleep.

“Will you be my champion, Ser Aemon?” She tried to make her voice airy and breathy, how she assumed Queen Naerys had spoken. They were deep in the wolfswood outside Winterfell. But the colors were wrong. Instead of the cold tones of white and grey and brown, everything was red and gold and orange, like she was seeing it through candlelight. She watched as her younger-self placed a crown of twisted branches over her head with a giggle she tried to suppress. Both of them were just past their one-and-ten nameday and had taken to making mischief as often as they could. Their favorite stories were of Queen Naerys and Ser Aemon, the Dragonknight. Their history was filled with tales of valor and heartache--perfect fodder for their growing imaginations.

Robb kneeled in front of her, taking his role very seriously. “Yes, my queen.”

Young Y/N stifled another giggle but quickly attempted to regain her composure, staying in her role. “Arise, my Dragonknight.”

Robb did as he was told, fighting a smile of his own before they both burst into a fit of laughter. Y/N took the wooden sword from its place on a broken stump and handed it to him with a flourish and he grasped it and held it aloft, yelling into the cold, morning air as if he had already won a great battle. His cheeks were flushed against the cold but his lips were warm as he pressed them against her hand. She could remember it all so easily. “I shall avenge your honor, my queen. I swear it.”

“Lord Robb!” Maester Luwin called out, voice echoing in the forest. It echoed and echoed and echoed and grew louder until all it was, was a roar that shook the trees.

Robb suddenly grabbed her hand and started tugging her through the trees. “Run, my queen. Or we’ll be forced to suffer more Valyrian lessons!” The trees twisted as the pair ran away, forming a wall and climbing higher and higher into the sky until it blotted out the sun. Then the trees twisted and reached out to her and their wooden fingers circled her throat and choked the air from her lungs.

As she woke with a gasp and the dying light now filtering through her small window, she could still hear Robb’s laughter ringing in her ears.

The Small Council Chamber was nothing she had dreamt of when she had let herself believe she could one day be powerful. It was just a stone room with a few windows and a large table. She counted the chairs and frowned when she couldn’t place all the titles that went with each.

“You are early.”

She leapt at the sound of the voice and quickly turned at curtseyed in front of Cersei who smirked and settled herself into the chair closest to the head seat. “I wanted to be sure I was not late, Your Grace. It is a great honor to be invited.”

Cersei looked at her and her smirk widened. “Yes. It is, isn’t it? I asked my lord father to invite you. When the Riverlands are yours to govern, we would not have you mishandle them.” She pulled out the chair beside her. “Sit.”

She quickly did. “I do not want to disappoint you, Your Grace. But, would it be imprudent for me to take notes? To see how the duties are presented.” There was a bit of parchment and ink she could use, sitting on the edge of the table. Cersei nodded and Y/N had to will herself not to scramble for it. While this invitation would surely be used against her at a later date, there was no use in completely forgetting what happened in the chamber. “While we are waiting, Your Grace, may I fetch you anything?”

“The last time you went to fetch me wine, Lady Tully, you nearly died. I would have you close for now.”

The quill in her hand nearly snapped at that, even if delivered in Cersei’s usual droll. An admission of somewhat reluctant care for her well-being had not been what she had hoped to earn when she woke this morn, but it was definitely a welcome surprise, even if it did make her all the more suspicious of the Lannisters’ intentions. All she said in response was, “Yes, Your Grace.”

And Cersei seemed fine with that.

Other men filtered in, casting questioning looks in Y/N’s direction but never voiced them as they looked at Cersei at her side.

Well, except for Grand Maester Pycelle. “Are you lost, Lady Tully? This is no place for a lady!”

“I requested her presence.” Everyone scrambled to their feet as Tywin entered the chamber. “She is to see how a functioning government is kept.” Tywin looked at her as he took his seat and she quickly glanced down at her empty bits of parchment.

Pycelle muttered something else under his breath but took his seat and cast a side-eyed glance at Y/N one more time before the meeting actually started.

Soon, the parchment was filled with notes and she was scrambling to tidy them as the meeting was adjourned. To his credit, it seemed like Tywin was the only one who knew how to have a functioning council but it was still a mess. But perhaps he intended it to be like that—so he could be the smartest man in the room.

“My lord,” she started as the others had started to leave. “I noticed there are more seats than people. Will there be more lords on the council after the wedding?”

Tywin looked at the empty chairs and then back at her, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Everything is a piece to played, my lady. You’ll see.”

He escorted her back to her rooms and left her with another kiss to her hand and a promise to invite her back to the Small Council “soon.” And she was happy to be alone again. Daisy had been excused after helping her dress and ready for the day, leaving her by herself.

It had been almost two weeks since she’d received her last letter from Dorne. It was probably for the best; it wasn’t as if she had any family left to write to her so it would be suspicious if she had received a letter from the Riverlands now. She hoped Sansa and Oberyn were well. Safe. Happy. All of it. If she couldn’t have it, she hoped someone else could. When she was feeling particularly melancholy, she would pull the rose she’d received from the mysterious and beautiful Ellaria from its hiding spot under her carefully, gently folded chemises and press it under her nose. The scent was faint now, but it still brought a smile to her face. (She had never actually found the earrings she was searching for that day.) After the meeting, she had stayed to the quiet of her rooms instead of the godswood. The chattering from the guests arriving for the wedding in the gardens had bled into that small haven and forced her retreat if she wanted to save her sanity. She was reading a book on the War of the Ninepenny Kings when there was a knock at her door. She grumbled and placed her book down before walking to the door and hauling it open, prepared to see some Lannister or Tyrell handmaiden requesting her presence somewhere—but instead, she saw a handsome young man with black hair pulled into a small bun on the back of his head. His robes were tan with golden thread with a burnt orange undershirt left open. “Lady Tully,” he said, a soft accent touching her ears. “I have a delivery for you. From Dorne.” His smile was small, but knowing. “Prince Oberyn send his regards, my lady.” Before she could even thank him, he disappeared and left an ornate chest just on the inside of her chamber door. The chest was of a reddish wood, inlaid with golden suns and thick, bold metal strappings. It smelled faintly of citrus and was slick with a fine varnish.

Before she could even open the chest, Daisy had scurried into her rooms, cheeks flush with worry. “The Queen is on her way, my lady.”

And she was right, Cersei arrived soon with a thinly veiled look of curiosity in her green eyes as she looked at the chest. “A gift from Dorne?”

Y/N and Daisy quickly curtseyed as Y/N easily thought of a lie. “Not quite, Your Grace. I wanted to have the finest gown for His Grace’s wedding to Lady Margaery, behind yours of course. And my dresses are much more suited for the climate of the Riverlands. The seamstresses in the capital were all far too busy for my liking and I wanted to be sure that I would not embarrass myself with a poorly-hewn frock.”

“My seamstress could have found room for you.”

She pressed a look of shock to her face. “Your Grace is far too charitable. I have taken enough of your time and resources when my family has caused the Crown such irksome troubles.”

Cersei looked pleased with her answer, nose held a little higher in the air. “You are a credit to your bloodline, Y/N. But do ask for her when the next opportunity arises. I would not have you dressed like a Dornish tart.”

Anger rolled her stomach but she smiled as if she had been complimented. “Thank you, Your Grace. I will.”

Cersei excused herself and Daisy finally lifted her head from its tuck to her chest and she softly shut the door, rolling her eyes the entire time.

“Help me to unseal this.”

Daisy quickly did as she was told and they attempted to pry it open but were unsuccessful until Y/N gave in and pulled a knife from under her featherbed and cut the seal.

“Oh…my lady. That is a mighty fine dress.”

And it was. Nestled in the chest was a soft, sunshine yellow samite dress of a Dornish style. It would show off an ample amount of cleavage with a near-scandalous neckline but did preserve most of her modesty with long bell sleeves made of matching Myrish lace. Small, golden suns were stitched throughout along with silver stars and moons, and she knew a train of modest length would follow her even with her heeled shoes. It seemed her lie had been prophetic.

Daisy bent and pulled something else from the chest: a neatly folded bit of parchment.

Y/N carefully set her dress on her bed before taking the letter. She unfolded it and laughed even as more heat took to her cheeks.

So that I may know you on sight.

The familiar viper was pressed to the corner in red ink.

The date of the wedding had arrived and she grew more nervous with each passing moment, even as Daisy attempted to make her laugh as she helped her into her dress and uncomfortable heeled boots.

“You are not the bride, my lady. Cease your shaking.” Daisy grasped at one of her hands and squeezed. “And if the whispers I hear are true, your Prince had been in the capital for a few days now.”

“You are not helping, Daisy. Why would that information give me comfort?”

The girl laughed and finished lacing the black closure of the dress with a flourish. “You are finished. Lady Margaery has asked for you in the Maidenvault. You must hurry.”

She squeezed Daisy’s hands in thanks and told her to help herself to the wine and relax in her chambers for the rest of the day before leaving and quickly making her way to the Maidenvault. It was awash with Tyrell green and gold and nearly vibrating with energy as women went this way and that, preparing for the ceremony.

“You’ve made it!” Margaery exclaimed, seeing her through the crowd.

She quickly made her way to the side of the soon-to-be-queen and curtseyed. “How may I help you-”

“You look quite beautiful. Dornish, is it not?” Margaery reached out and trailed a finger across one of the suns just above her breast. If she felt her poor heart leap, Margaery blessedly didn’t mention it.

“It is.”

“Nearly scandalous,” Margaery said with a wink.

And Y/N nearly snorted at that—Margaery’s dresses were, largely, much more bold.

“But don’t change. It will be nice to see some color beside red and gold on my wedding day.” Maegaery squeezed her hands and then scowled as a handmaiden shoved a pin into her hair.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Y/N said, noticing how Margaery preened with the title, “I was told you asked me here for a reason.”

Margaery smiled again. “Yes, I wanted to personally ask you to save a dance for my brother, Ser Loras. He has been asking to make your acquaintance for some time now.” The twinkle in her eye did little to settle the knots in Y/N’s stomach. Almost everyone in the entire room, and there were quite a few, had taken a look at her then, at the mention of Loras’ name.

“I would be delighted, Your Grace.”

Margaery suddenly pulled her into a hug, ignoring the squawk her handmaiden let out as she had just about placed another pin, and held her tight. “You’ve made me very happy, Little Fish.”

“I am glad to hear it. It is your wedding day, after all,” Y/N said as she pulled back. “Now, you must excuse me.”

“Of course,” Margaery said, still smiling. “I shall see you in a moment.”

Y/N quickly exited, ignoring the strange looks she was receiving on her way out form the Tyrell retinue, and made her way toward the Great Sept of Baelor, filling in with the crowds and finding her place. It was more toward the front of the crowd than she had anticipated and her thoughts once again turned to how the Lannisters were planning something. At least with the Tyrells, she knew whom she could expect. Lords and Ladies from the Westerlands were at her back and was soon greeted by Ser Kevan Lannister and his wife, Lady Dorna Swyft in her row. They greeted her warmly, mentioning how both Cersei and Tywin mentioned her and she did her best to act pleased.

A flash of gold caught her eye a few rows ahead and she turned to see a golden headdress, rows of golden chain looped together, placed over a head of shiny, inky black hair. It was preposterous to believe it could be Ellaria, she knew. But, oh, she hoped. The man next to the woman with the golden headdress was handsome, from what she could see of his face. A strong nose and pouty lips that smiled as he looked at his companion and he was draped in a soft tan fabric that shimmered only slightly when the sunlight hit it just so. Perhaps it was Oberyn. Again, a fanciful thought. But his letter and the dress had made his intention clear that he would be at the wedding and there, of course, had been the usual whispers that Prince Oberyn had travelled in Prince Doran’s stead to represent Dorne during the festivities. He could and should be here.

“It is a marvelous moment, no?” Kevan asked, whispering in her ear. “The dawn of a new era.”

“Indeed,” Y/N said as the soft music started, signaling the arrival of the bride. “It is.”

It was a pleasant surprise to see she was to be seated beside Tyrion and Tommen at the festivities following the ceremony. While still Lannisters, they were decidedly the best of the brood. Tyrion made her laugh and Tommen was kind.

“Have you tried the boar, my prince? It is quite good.”

Tommen speared some of the meat from her plate with a playful smile as Tyrion softly, fondly chided him. “It is good, my lady.” The young prince quickly stole another bite.

“My lady,” Tyrion started as he stood from his chair, “would you be so kind as to join me for the next dance?” He held out a hand toward her with a small smile.

She did not want to. Not because of his stature but because of his family and how it echoed in her mind that the Lannisters were set on marrying her off. He was kind, it was true, but that did not make this easier. “Of course, Lord Tyrion.” She stood and grasped his hand, letting him lead her away from the large red and gold tent and into the fray of couples arranging themselves in two lines as the musicians readied for the next song.

The music started and she quickly tried to remember the steps that this dance required. A few steps forward toward her partner then a turn to the side to grasp a hand, turn once, twice, then step back and the partner on the left would step to the side and the dance would begin again with a new partner, again and again, until the entire line had been turned and the original partners were reunited again. For what it was worth, Y/N had to admit that Tyrion chose a smart dance to share with her—they hardly touched or spent any time looking at each other. Almost as if he knew her discomfort.

He bowed to her and she to him and they began the dance. He was mindful not to step on her gown as they circled each other and he gave her another fond smile before they switched partners. There was an older Lord from the Stormlands, followed by a knight from the Westerlands and then a familiar green and gold brocade gathered her attention as she stepped in front of her next partner.

Ser Loras looked relieved as he recognized her. “Lady Tully.”

“Ser Loras.” He was undoubtedly handsome, with his soft blonde curls and dancing, blue eyes and Y/N could let herself pretend, for a moment that she could be happy being married off to someone like him— strictly aesthetically, anyway. “I have been told to save you a dance by our new queen.”

He laughed as he grasped her hand and they turned. “Would you?”

“Yes, Ser Loras. I’d be happy to.”

He smiled again and they finished their turn before the next partner came. The dance eventually finished and Tyrion took her hand again and led her back to their table. Tommen now had a heaping pile of the boar on his plate and was devouring it. She stole a bite from his plate and he laughed. His laughter, however, drew the eye of Cersei and Tywin Lannister.

They both looked at her at the far table and she pretended not to notice as she laughed with Tommen and let Tyrion fill her chalice with more wine. It would be better if they didn’t think she was putting on a show.

Another set of musicians stepped up in front of Joffrey and Margaery and played another round of ‘The Rains of Castamere.’ It had been the fifth one already and it was hardly an hour into the festivities. Joffrey lobbed a handful of coin at them and sent them on their way.

Another song for the dancing couples went by, and another followed. The wine was making her head swim the smallest bit as she spotted Loras making his way toward her. Olenna was at his side, required to make the introduction for niceties sake and then they were off.

The musicians called out the dance and Y/N had to arch an eyebrow at Loras. This one would keep her close, almost intimate, but still playful enough that it wouldn’t be imprudent for mixed company. He shrugged and held her hands in his, easily guiding her through the steps. “Surely you know what they’re planning,” he whispered in her ear.

“Oh yes. We could make quite a match.” She twirled under his arm, following the steps, and let herself be caught in his arms, her back to his chest as the dance continued. “But why would you agree to such a thing, Loras?” Her voice was low. “King Renly…” Words had to be chosen carefully. “You loved him. I’ve heard tales about it. Why would you tether yourself to someone you could never love?”

The knight’s grip tightened just a fraction. “When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.”

And her heart broke with the pain in his voice. Thankfully, the dance needed her to turn and face him, placing her hands over one of his shoulders as she kicked, letting her dress flutter and glisten in the sunlight. “We can be friends, can we not? To find some happiness in this arrangement?”

He smiled then and almost laughed as she nearly missed a step. “I would like that, very much.”

They finished the dance, her heart a little lighter than it had been and he gently took her hand and started to lead her toward her table before she noticed him blushing. Y/N tried to find where he was looking and found Ellaria hand-feeding berries to the most beautiful man she had ever seen. It was a wonderful surprise to realize the woman she had been ogling during the ceremony had been Ellaria. But who was the man? Seeing him in the sunlight, completely, was beautiful. Just as beautiful as Ellaria. No wonder they seemed so besotted with each other.

“That is Prince Oberyn,” Loras whispered in her ear. “Gorgeous, isn’t he?”

“He is.” Why lie? Anyone with eyes could see how he was meant to be painted, immortalized for everyone to revere.

“Shall I introduce you? I made his acquaintance earlier today.” There was a slight shyness to Loras’ tone that made her smile. He was like a little boy with an infatuation.

And she would finally meet him. But would their easy companionship filter over from their letters? Nerves had twisted her stomach when she thought of Oberyn not deeming her worthy of his beautiful word any longer. “I would be grateful.”

Loras led her through the crowd and Ellaria spotted them first. A happy smile touched her lips and she whispered something in Oberyn’s ear. He let his gaze slowly slide over to them, almost disinterested but she could see the playful glint in his eyes. And his own smile widened when he looked at her. Ellaria slid off his lap and walked over to them, dragging Y/N from Loras’ side.

“Finally. Someone worth speaking to.” She pressed a kiss to both of Y/N’s quickly warming cheeks and tugged her toward the table. “Come, Ser Loras. You can join us.”

Loras awkwardly sat across from Oberyn as Ellaria planted Y/N between herself and Oberyn, a hand already fond of tracing the suns stitched into her dress. “I was unaware you knew Lady Tully.”

“We met in the market. She has yet to meet my prince.”

“Yes, well, Prince Oberyn, I present-”

“Lady Tully. Yes.” He grasped one of her hands and brought it to his mouth to kiss the tips of her fingers, somehow making a shiver shoot down her spine as he never broke eye contract. “I have heard of you. And that is a fine dress. Dornish, isn’t it?” He smiled at the last question.

“It is—I’ve never had such a beautiful dress. I’m very fortunate. And, of course, it is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Oberyn. I hope your travels to the capital were pleasant.” Y/N was proud of herself for keeping her voice so steady despite his piercing stare. Perhaps it was the hidden joke, the secret in their verbal volley who made her a little more at ease. None of her nerves had been proven correct just yet. And she hoped they never would.

“The Capital is never pleasant, and the journey was tedious. But the company, it seems, to have finally evolved into something enjoyable.” He then smirked at Loras and pulled a berry from the bowl in front of him and tossed it into his mouth.

Loras’ pretty cheeks filled with pink and he averted his eyes and the cogs in Y/N’s mind quickly started to turn. “Ellaria, I have heard there is quite a display of Lysene contortionists somewhere around here. Shall we let the men talk?”

Ellaria laughed and let a finger trail across Y/N’s cheek. “I know exactly where these contortionists are. I will show you.” She stood and Y/N followed and they linked arms as they set off away from the dancing couples and the food tables. Ellaria’s hand covered hers as it rested on her arm. “That was very kind of you, my lady. To let Oberyn have his fun with that pretty knight.”

“Yes, well,” Y/N chanced a glance over her shoulder to see that Loras had switched to the other side of the table and Oberyn was whispering something in his ear, “it seemed Loras had been a bit smitten and who am I to stand in the way of that?”

“You do not mind that he likes both? My Oberyn?” The question was asked quietly, Ellaria’s lips close to her ear.

“I like both. It is comforting to know there is another like me.” And it felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest to finally say it aloud. Of course, the Tullys knew of it, but they had very little patience to understand it so she had been forced to only live it in shadowed corners. And when she had moved to King’s Landing, it wasn’t an option for her to explore. There was an easy air about Ellaria, open and honest. That is perhaps why Y/N had felt so nonplussed to reveal her own secret.

“More than just Oberyn,” Ellaria said, her grip tightening just a fraction.

And Y/N’s heart leapt and bounced. “Truly?” The word was almost strangled from her throat as they neared the area of the fire-breathers and contortionists and jugglers, slipping through a display of the gifts the Brat King had received from his guests.

“You are not alone,” Ellaria whispered with a teasing smile. But then another question had Ellaria’s brow arching. “And what of your thoughts of loving more than one?”

“More than one person at a time? I have not loved one person. I would not know how to love two.” She frowned as she thought of it. There was love for her family, and a companionable affection for people like Daisy. But love? Real, romantic love? It had always been a distant daydream. Stolen kisses in shadows from pretty ladies and the occasional second son of a lord was as close as she had ever come to it.

“There is love in your heart, I know it. Can feel it. Passion waiting to be unleashed.” They turned a corner and a burst of fire greeted them. They had found their destination. The fire-breather danced away, leaving the scent of smoke and ash behind. “In Dorne, we embrace our passion. Lords and ladies have their paramours and lovers and take what they want.” She let her fingers trail down to take Y/N’s hand and raised it to her lips and kissed the pads of her fingers, just as Oberyn had done a moment ago.

Y/N swallowed the hard lump in her throat as Ellaria’s dark eyes lifted to meet hers. “Dorne sounds like a paradise.”

“It can be. If one has the right soul for it.” The older woman stood straight and continued to lead her toward the tables filled with contortionists.

“Do I?” Y/N asked. Could she be happy in a place like Dorne, unfettered by the social constructs she’d been born into?

Ellaria looked at her and smiled, wolfish and hungry. She said nothing and pulled her along to see the men and women twist and turn in almost unnatural ways and would murmur the position names in her ear like an illicit secret.

All of it was bubbling into something strange under Y/N’s skin, making her warm with each passing syllable and each new position they encountered only coiled something tighter until they were all a blur in her mind and all she could hear was Ellaria’s melodic hum in her ear and smell her perfume. Y/N was not so innocent to not understand that she was roused and yearning for some indelicate headiness, but she had never before been so close to achieving it. Only her own fingers had given her reprieve in the past but now Ellaria was staring at her like a tiger faced with a meal and she couldn’t wait to be devoured.

“Come. Surely there is a quiet place for you to catch your breath.” Ellaria had not let go of her hand yet and it seemed unlikely she would do so now as they walked through the masses, slipping out of the festival grounds and into the gardens. It was decidedly quieter but the music from the bards and musicians and the laughter of the crowds still filtered through the greenery, now muted and soft. The pair walked for a moment before finding a corner with a stone wall in the shadows, a reprieve from the heat of the sun.

And, as Y/N went to thank her companion for the respite, Ellaria pushed her against a wall and pressed her mouth to hers and stole her breath. Coaxing her mouth was easy and Ellaria almost laughed as Y/N whined against her lips. The quiet desperation that she had felt was now bursting forth as Ellaria easily coaxed her lips apart and delved her tongue into her mouth.

“Responsive, that’s good,” Ellaria hummed as he broke for a moment. Her hands slid from the other woman’s shoulders down her sides to grab handfuls of the yellow fabric at her hips and dragged her waist closer and wedging a thigh between hers. A choked breath pushed through Y/N’s lips at the delicious pressure against her core. “You taste so sweet.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N gasped, not knowing what she was begging for. To stop. To never stop. “Please.”

Ellaria suddenly grabbed at the back of Y/N’s neck to pull her head closer, angling her abruptly so she could kiss her thoroughly, devour her with spit-slicked lips and smiling teeth and dominating every sense she had despite Y/N’s some-what apparent lack of experience. And Y/N could have sworn she’d never felt such ecstasy in a touch like this—until Ellaria trailed her fingers against Y/N’s heaving chest, feeling the warmth she exuded and how soft her skin was before dipping beneath the fabric to cup Y/N’s breast and this time she did laugh as Y/N gasped again. She kneaded her and felt Y/N’s heart hammering and racing as she continued to draw whines and whimpers from her pretty little mouth. Deft fingers found her pebbled nipple and circled and tugged again and again before once again starting her slow torture of simply massaging the tortured flesh.

Y/N’s hands tried to find purchase in anything, the cold stone behind her, the fabric of Ellaria’s dress, but finally grabbed at Ellaria’s neck so she could thread her fingers into the hair at the back of her head, barely mindful of the golden chains in her locks, and hold her close—she needed her closer.

“You sing so prettily for me,” Ellaria said as her nose trailed against Y/N’s cheek, her other hand still anchored around her neck. “I’ve barely touched you.” A final squeeze to her chest and then her fingers retreated…only to start to trail down toward her skirts. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” Y/N blindly answered. “Touch me.”

“Oh.”

Y/N instantly stiffened at being caught, her own hands pulling away from the other woman.

“That will have to wait, I’m afraid,” came a voice just over Ellaria’s shoulder.

Ellaria’s lovely touch withdrew and she carefully pulled Y/N’s dress back to cover her chest with a wink before she turned, almost leisurely, to see who had stumbled upon them.

Loras was blushing a pretty shade of red and looking steadfastly up into the clouds while Oberyn simply smirked at the pair of women. The sight was a welcome one—surely these two could keep a secret.

“You’ve nearly made a mess of our young Lady Tully, my love,” Oberyn said as he stepped forward to grasp at Ellaria’s hand and he tugged her close to press a slow kiss against her lips. “And does she taste as pretty as she looks?”

“She does,” Ellaria agreed as she looked back at Y/N who was still pressed against the garden wall. “A taste from the source would be much sweeter.” The innuendo was not lost on anyone present.

“I’m sure it would.” Oberyn’s hand curled around Ellaria’s hip and he drew her closer. “But that will have to wait. Her absence has been noted by too many.”

Y/N sagged with the news. It had to have been the Lannisters. No one else would mind if she disappeared with a fellow guest for a few moments at a celebration such as this. “Thank you for finding us first, my prince.” She brushed her hands against her skirts to help them lay flat and straightened her shoulders before pressing the back of her hand to her cheeks to help them cool before starting to walk toward the banquet again. Only to be stopped by a roughened hand on her arm. Oberyn’s grip was not hard, she knew she could wriggle out of it without any effort.

“Your appearance will not keep a secret in that state, my lady.” Then, without much fanfare or warning, he started to gently right her mussed clothes and straightened the filigreed back across the top of her head to once again give her the air of a civilized lady.

His touch was always gentle, taking care to never pull or tug too harshly, and Y/N felt her heart trying to escape her chest for the second time that day and leap into the hands of a Dornishman. She tried to focus on the golden chain around his neck instead of staring at his face but then all she managed to do was appreciate his defined chest and how he smelled like ripe berries and sandalwood with a touch of spice she could not place. His full lips were parted and nearly pursed as he worked, making them ever more tempting and she felt foolish to even let such a thought cross her mind when she hardly knew him.

But, she hardly knew Ellaria who had her panting like a whore only moments earlier. He was every bit as entrancing as Ellaria, she was rue to admit. His gentle touch only exacerbated how flustered she felt. The pair was dangerous.

“Shall I pass inspection, my prince?” She asked, clasping her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking as he finished.

“Tell them you’ve been enjoying the less polite entertainment if they ask where you’ve gone, my lady.” It was said with a smirk and his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, making her shiver again.

“Thank you for the guidance.” She bid them adieu and squeezed Loras’ arm as she walked away and rejoined the festivities.

A/N: All right...so, that’s part one. I’ve tried to draw on a few plot lines from the books that didn’t make it into the television series, but if you have any questions, please just ask. I welcome feedback. The next chapter will (hopefully) be shorter and out soon. Cross your fingers.

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell #oberyn x ellaria x reader #oberyn x ellaria #game of thrones #asoiaf

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

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Written In The Stars CVII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m not entirely pleased with this book, I could’ve added more stuff but it was already too big so I’ll just write 'em as hidden moments. The last two chapters are still a MASTERPIECE, i can’t wait for y’all to read them -Danny

Words: 3,467

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to ‘Six Feet Apart’ -by Alec Benjamin

Chapter Five: Out of the Routine.

"You think he'll be all right?"

"Harry did nothing wrong– conjure a Patronus in the condition he was... that's impressive!"

"You can make one, can't you? What form does it take?"

"A dog of course," Sirius smiled. "A shaggy, fluffy lad..."

"Mine's an eagle– Matt could conjure a phoenix, but I guess you knew that..."

"So, Sirius..." Mel hopped on the table. "How was my mum when she was younger?"

"I was a loving, rational witch," The woman replied. "Next question–"

"You were loving all right," Sirius raised a brow. "But that wasn't it. I distinctly remember one afternoon when I said you were nowhere near as skilled as James to play quidditch... When you finally made it into the team –as a beater, mind you– you threw a bludger right at my face."

"It proved my point," The woman said. "However, I'm trying to teach this one better manners than the ones I had–"

"Doesn't seem to be working," Sirius teased.

"What I really wanna know..." Mel continued, interrupting their playful banter. "Who was the real heartbreaker of the group? Was it you, Sirius?"

"Me?" Sirius snorted. "I had a few dates but I didn't break hearts. People considered me too childish."

"They were right about that," Emily said. "I used to think James was the heartbreaker..."

"James was harmless! He spent years chasing Lily like a puppy– But of course, you wouldn't have noticed–"

"Remus was quite the catch too," She gave him a pointed look.

"Ah, yes– Remus," Sirius stammered. "Remus... you know what? I reckon we held him back from getting a few lovely girls back in the day."

"How come?"

"He would always think that girls were after us– You know, James and I– but I believe most of them were after him and Matt!"

"Can't blame them," Emily smiled.

"Ruddy was the heartbreaker, to be honest..."

"What?" Mel laughed. "My dad? The same bloke that spent years chasing my mother just like James with Lily?"

"He was in love with your mother, but the bastard was clever!" Emily scolded Sirius and he apologized distractedly. "He knew how to flirt his way out of detention!"

"Flirt his way out?" Mel couldn't believe it.

"Those eyes..." The woman sighed. "One look and a dashing smile and you were a goner! I was so glad when I discovered you didn't have 'em! Hard to say no when he was looking at you in a certain way..."

"She may not have his eyes, but she certainly got the look," Sirius smirked. "I could tell you exactly when I've seen her do it–"

"Padfoot, you're playing with fire," Emily warned him. "Teach that girl how to trick others and soon enough she'll have a group of fools under her command!"

"Is that so bad? Ouch!" Mel joked, earning a slap on her arm. "All right– I promise I won't use any tricks with you... What about school, though? You know some kids are bullies, this might come in handy."

"Sounds good to me! Here's what you do..." The man stood in front of her.

For the next hour, Sirius practised with her until Emily gave up and sat as well, sharing a few tricks of her own. By the time they walked out of the kitchen to do their chores, Mel was well versed in the tricks of the Marauders.

She promised that she wouldn't do any of those things for the fun of it, and never to a friend. Desperate times required desperate measures, that was all. She was aware of how she'd rambled for years about hating lies, but she also needed to convince everyone that her crush had vanished. There was no other choice.

Harry announced, looking much livelier than before, that all charges had been taken and he was going back to Hogwarts for another year.

"I knew it! You always get away with stuff!" Ron exclaimed.

"They were bound to clear you. There was no case against you, none at all..." Hermione smiled, but she was a bit pale still.

"Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering they all knew I'd get off," Harry joked as Emily stood behind him, running a hand through his hair with pride.

"You've got your sense of humour back, then?" Mel asked. "Good, you were starting to get annoying..."

Harry gave her a look divided between amusement and doubt, he didn't know if she was joking. She wasn't planning on clearing things out either.

"He got off, he got off, he got off —!"

"That's enough, settle down!" Mr Weasley told his kids, waving a hand as if that could quiet them. "Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry —"

"What?"

"He got off, he got off, he got off —"

"Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know."

"Absolutely– We'll tell him, don't worry."

"Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet in Bethnal Green waiting for me. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner —"

"He got off, he got off, he got off —"

"That's enough — Fred — George — Ginny!" said Mrs Weasley. "Harry dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast..."

" 'Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you," said Ron, sitting down in front of Harry and putting a bunch of food on his plate.

"Yeah, he swung it for me," said Harry.

Mel leaned against the cabinets, examining him carefully. For some reason, Harry acting all giddy and happy only made her feel sadder. She wanted to look like that too, she wanted to pretend nothing was wrong and she was sure that if she were to try and sit next to him, Harry would let her. Still, part of her was hurting, Harry'd walked away because he'd gotten scared about the lifeline and true to his nature he'd tried to protect her.

The idea made her blood boil. Who was he to decide? It was her life! Not only that, but his stupid plan hadn't worked at all, now she could feel even more stuff than the previous year. To hell with pretending they were still friends. She moved away from the cabinet to leave the kitchen when Harry hissed, touching his scar.

"What's up?" said Hermione.

"Scar– But it's nothing... It happens all the time now..." The boy caught her staring and she froze.

"Well," Mel replied crudely. "You should learn to control it– Don't want that happening during class..."

"Mel! Don't be so unfeeling–"

"She's right," Harry agreed, giving her a hard look. "I don't want to give any more ideas to the Daily Prophet."

Sirius was acting like a child and it was driving her crazy. It was half selfishness and half worry. She wanted nothing more but to make Sirius realize he wasn't going to be alone nor unhappy. He had Emily, and Mel was pretty sure that they were on the verge of something.

Without Sirius, she was forced to spend more time with Ron, Harry and Hermione, because if she were to spent time with Ginny she would only think about Harry and their time together.

The twins were excellent distractions, but Fred was always trying to flirt and though it was a joke and wasn't making her uncomfortable, she was starting to like it. That worried her. She didn't want to ruin their friendship.

"You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he's being selfish," She heard Hermione say one afternoon while they were cleaning more rubbish.

"That's a bit harsh, Hermione, you wouldn't want to be stuck inside this house without company," Ron explained.

"He'll have company!" said Hermione. "It's headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? Emily is here almost all the time! He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him."

"I don't think that's true– He wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked him if I could."

"He just didn't want to get his own hopes up even more– And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you'd be expelled. Then you'd both be outcasts together."

"Come off it!" said the boys.

"Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Ron's mum's right, and Sirius gets confused about whether you're you or your father, Harry."

"So you think he's touched in the head?"

"No, I just think he's been very lonely for a long time," Hermione shrugged.

"I have to agree," Mel was dying to talk about her suspicions with someone apart from her uncle. "I think that's about to change, though..."

"What d'you mean?"

"I'm saying," She looked around. "My mother and Sirius are spending a lot of time together..."

They looked at her silently until Hermione asked, "Wait, you don't think..?"

"I do."

"And you're okay with it?"

"Mum's been alone for years, it's time. Even better if it's Sirius."

"Dunno," Ron said awkwardly. "Bit weird to think of Sirius and Em together, don't you think? Them being friends for so long... I mean, Sirius was friends with your dad, wouldn't that make things weird?"

"Why?" Mel frowned.

"It'd be like betraying him, wouldn't it?"

"My dad's dead, Ron," She replied bluntly. "Don't you think he would've liked to see my mother with someone that would treat her well? Someone he knew?"

"Maybe..." He shrugged. "I just don't see Sirius as a dad–"

"Whatever," She thought it had been stupid to think they would support her idea.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Mrs Weasley interrupted.

"Still not finished?"

"I thought you might be here to tell us to have a break!" said Ron "D'you know how much mold we've got rid of since we arrived here?"

"You were so keen to help the Order, you can do your bit by making headquarters fit to live in."

"I feel like a house-elf..."

"Well, now that you understand what dreadful lives they lead, perhaps you'll be a bit more active in S.P.E.W.! You know, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to show people exactly how horrible it is to clean all the time — we could do a sponsored scrub of Gryffindor common room, all proceeds to S.P.E.W., it would raise awareness as well as funds —"

"I'll sponsor you to shut up about spew," Ron muttered, Hermione didn't hear it.

"Have you guys gotten your letters?" Mel entered the boys' room. "You won't believe who's got her Prefect–"

The twins apparated, causing her to scream.

"You twats!"

"Sorry, Lady! We were just wondering who assigned the Slinkhard book," said Fred.

"Because it means Dumbledore's found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," said George.

"And about time too."

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well, we overheard Mum and Dad talking on the Extendable Ears a few weeks back, and from what they were saying, Dumbledore was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year."

"Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four?"

"One sacked, one dead, one's memory removed, and one locked in a trunk for nine months," Harry counted with his fingers. "Yeah, I see what you mean."

"The dead one and the idiot without memory had it coming," Mel mentioned, sitting down on Harry's bed.

"What's up with you, Ron? What's the matter?" Fred approached the boy and read over his shoulder, his eyes widening. "Prefect?"

"Prefect?!" George got closer and snatched the letter from Ron's hand, the badge falling from it. "No way..."

"There's been a mistake– No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect... We thought you were a cert!"

"We thought Dumbledore was bound to pick you two!" said George, pointing at Mel and Harry.

"Funny you mention it..." Mel said, but they didn't let her finish.

"Winning the Triwizard and everything!" Fred continued.

"I suppose all the mad stuff must've counted against him," said George.

"Yeah... Yeah, you've caused too much trouble, mate. Well, at least one of you's got their priorities right, though I must say, Mel, I'm a tad disappointed about you being a Prefect."

"How d'you know I'm one?"

"C'mon! There's no way you're not! Private lessons and all..." Fred walked over to Harry and glared at Ron and Mel. "Prefect... ickle Ronnie and Lady Dumbledore..."

"Oh, Mum's going to be revolting," George rolled his eyes.

Ron, who still had not said a word, took the badge, stared at it for a moment, and then held it out to Harry as though asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. Harry took it. A large P was superimposed on the Gryffindor lion. He had seen a badge just like this on Percy's chest on his very first day at Hogwarts.

The door banged open. Hermione came tearing into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was an envelope in her hand.

"Did you — did you get — ?" She spotted the badge in Harry's hand and let out a shriek. "I knew it!" she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. "Me too, Harry, me too!"

The twins turned to look at Mel with matching shocked expressions.

"No," Harry quickly dropped the badge on Ron's hand. "It's Ron, not me."

"It — what?"

"Ron's prefect, not me."

"Ron?" Hermione blinked. "But... are you sure? I mean —"

"How come you're not a prefect?" George asked Mel. "Hermione's clever– but you–"

"I've caused as much trouble as Harry," She shrugged. "And I would've told you so if you hadn't interrupted me! And yes, 'Mione, that badge belongs to Ron."

"It's my name on the letter," Ron straighten his posture as if daring her to speak.

"I... I... well... wow! Well done, Ron! That's really —"

"Unexpected?" said George.

"No! No, it's not... Ron's done loads of... he's really..."

"He's clever, brave, and has done nothing to prove he doesn't deserve that badge as much as Harry," Mel replied. Ron blushed furiously.

Mrs Weasley walked into the room holding some folded robes.

"Ginny said the booklists had come at last... If you give them to me, Emily and I will take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more pyjamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing... what colour would you like?"

"Get him red and gold to match his badge," said George in disgust.

"Match his what?"

"His badge," Fred grimaced. "His lovely shiny new prefect's badge."

Mrs Weasley rose her face in slow understanding.

"His... but... Ron, you're not..?"

Ron held up his badge timidly.

"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"

"What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?" said George, huffing when his mother pushed him out of the way. Mel patted his shoulder, holding back her laughter.

"Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it's the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh Ronnie —"

Mel laughed, incapable to hold any longer. Both twins were beyond displeased. What surprised her the most, was that she found herself pleased about not being a prefect.

"Mum... don't... Mum, get a grip..." Ron groaned as his mother continued to kiss all over his face.

"Well, what will it be? We gave Percy an owl, but you've already got one, of course."

"W-what do you mean?"

"You've got to have a reward for this! How about a nice new set of dress robes?"

"We've already bought him some," Fred lamented.

"Or a new cauldron, Charlie's old one's rusting through, or a new rat, you always liked Scabbers —"

"Mum... can I have a new broom?" When he saw her mother's look of uncertainty, he added, "Not a really good one! Just — just a new one for a change..."

Mrs Weasley smiled lovingly.

"Of course you can... Well, I'd better go get Emily if we've got a broom to buy too. I'll see you all later... Little Ronnie, a prefect! And don't forget to pack your trunks... A prefect... Oh, I'm all of a dither!"

"You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?" said Fred as soon as their mother left.

"We could curtsy if you like," said George.

"Oh, shut up," said Ron.

"Or what? Going to put us in detention?" Fred smirked.

"I'd love to see him try," sniggered George.

"He could if you don't watch out!" said Hermione.

Mel laughed along with the twins. She heard Ron mumble 'Drop it, Hermione' and she took pity on her poor friend.

"Enough you two!" She hit Fred's arm lightly. "Ron didn't ask to be made a prefect."

"We're going to have to watch our step, George," said Fred, pretending to be fearful, "with these two on our case..."

"Yeah, it looks like our law-breaking days are finally over," said George with a dramatic sigh.

The twins Disapparated after that.

"Those two!" said Hermione furiously, staring up at the ceiling, through which they could now hear Fred and George roaring with laughter in the room upstairs. "Don't pay any attention to them, Ron, they're only jealous!"

"I don't think they are," said Ron doubtfully, also looking up at the ceiling. "They've always said only prats become prefects... Still," he added on a happier note, "they've never had new brooms! I wish I could go with Mum and choose... She'll never be able to afford a Nimbus, but there's the new Cleansweep out, that'd be great... Yeah, I think I'll go and tell her I like the Cleansweep, just so she knows..."

Mel watched him rush out of the room.

"Harry?" said Hermione.

"Well done!" His voice sounded too happy to be genuine. "Brilliant. Prefect. Great."

"Thanks... Erm — Harry — could I borrow Hedwig so I can tell Mum and Dad? They'll be really pleased — I mean, prefect is something they can understand —"

"Yeah, no problem," He had his back to them, still talking with too much joy. "Take her!"

Mel waited until Hermione left with Hedwig, she waited until their friend closed the door... Harry straighten up from packing his trunk and sat heavily on the edge of his bed. He hadn't noticed she was still there and quickly covered his face with both hands as he grimaced.

She didn't know what to do, if this had happened a year back she would've held his hand and they would've found a way to cheer up. She wasn't upset about not being a prefect because her priorities had changed a bit since she was a kid, but seeing the disappointment in his eyes... They weren't friends, but she was decent enough to not walk away.

"I suppose you feel hurt."

Harry gave a start revealing his teary eyes to her, Mel continued calmly.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," She made her way to Ron's bed and sat down. "But I get it, my twelve-year-old self is rolling on her grave."

"I... I don't..." Harry stammered, then fixed his eyes on the corner of the wardrobe.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds before a bitter, sarcastic laugh came out. He shook his head slowly and cleaned his nose with the back of his hand.

"You're right– Ron didn't ask for this... I shouldn't..."

Mel wasn't going to pressure him. If he was going to talk great, if not, she'd done enough. The sound of footsteps brought them back and Harry composed himself at the speed of light. He stood up and fixed a casual grin on his face at the exact moment Ron burst into the room.

"Just caught her! She says she'll get the Cleansweep if she can."

"Cool... Listen — Ron — well done, mate."

Ron's face changed drastically.

"I never thought it would be me! I thought it would be you!"

"Nah, I've caused too much trouble," Harry admitted. "Mel's right, we're too far gone."

"I have to pack my stuff..." Mel stood up, patting Harry's shoulder but retreating her hand as if he were burning to the touch.

She didn't know what she could've said. That he wasn't completely alone, perhaps. That they could still find a common ground and talk, hopefully soon.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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