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nevernotwriting · 3 years

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You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 5: The Wrench in the Works

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You slept surprisingly well that night, despite the heightened anxiety from your situation and what almost happened between you and Mark the night before. He kept giving you warm glances over breakfast, making you smile into your soggy cereal. Despite your current predicament, your head was on cloud nine knowing that he was still very eager to take you on that date once this mess was over.

Once breakfast was eaten and the inmates were allowed to roam, you and Mark got to work on your plan. You’d agreed that rallying the prisoners to your cause was your best way of getting out of here; there were more prisoners than guards, and with the size of some of the prisoners, the lot of you could easily overpower them.

You and Mark decided to work together to tackle the biggest, burliest prisoner first. You hadn’t caught his name yet, but he stood well over six-feet tall, sporting a large beard and a spider web tattooed onto his bald head. You gulped as Mark turned to you with a reassuring nod before poking him harshly in the bicep.

“Hey! You! I wanna talk about respect. It’s somethin’ that we’ve been really missin’ here lately.”

You watched from the side lines, ready to step in when you were needed. You suspected it wouldn’t be long; the man’s intense look of contempt was only getting worse as Mark poked him in the chest to emphasise his words.

“Now I need you to respect me, and help me and my friend break out-”

Wham.

The man’s fist collided with Mark’s stomach, and Mark was sent crashing through the wall behind him. Bricks and dust flew everywhere, clouding your vision and making you splutter. By the time the dust cleared, the wall was rapidly being filled in again, and Mark was nowhere to be seen.

Your heart started beating rapidly, stomach lurching.

Was Mark... dead?

Your head started spinning, making you feel faint. What the hell were you going to do now? Your plan had backfired and now you were on your own.

You barely had time to collect your scattered thoughts before a husky voice came from behind you.

“Break out… of this place? Why would anyone… wanna break out?”

You turned around, greeted by a man with coiffed black hair and an array of tattoos. He was sat on a table as if he owned it, looking at you with one eyebrow cocked and a devilish smile.

You weren’t entirely sure if what occurred next really happened; the man started singing to you, surrounded by his fellow prisoners. He took you by the hand as he sang, introducing you to his “gang” with the biggest smile on his face. There was dancing, even more singing – something about not wanting to be free? – and then it was all over. The lights stopped. The dancing stopped. You were surrounded by criminals once more, and now they were closing in on you. You weren’t sure whether to be impressed or intimidated by how quickly they could change their demeanour.

“So, tell me,” the man spoke again, a dangerous look in his eyes as he approached you. “Do ya still wanna be free?”

You gulped, thinking yet again about Mark being launched through that wall. He had to be okay, right? You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if he was dead. You needed to be sure. More so than that, you had friends and family out there. You couldn’t just leave them all behind for a life behind bars, as tempting as the song made it sound.

Family, of course! You reached into your back pocket, handing the photo of your parents to the man.

“What’s this?”

He turned the paper around, almost looking disappointed as he glanced over it. “Oh. So yous the type o’ person with one o’ those… family types waitin’ for ya on the outside, huh?”

You nodded. To your intrigue, and utter bewilderment, his expression took a sombre turn, as if he was reminded of a thousand past hurts all at once.

“I too was once also one of those familial types. Before the incident… ces.”

He tossed your picture behind him with an even more pained look. “But forget it! It’s best if yous just forget about those family bonds of youses, they ain’t worth it! They always just gonna leave you behind, so best to just stick with what’s youses! The past ain’t the kinda thing to be trifled with.”

The sincerity of his monologue didn’t sound like the words of a murderer, despite what he had claimed in the song. You wanted to question him, but he shook himself out of his sadness with an exasperated sigh.

“So what’s it gonna be, huh? You gonna stick with us, or you gonna go out on your own?”

You looked behind him, noting that you still had an audience for this stand-off. Despite the anxiety growing inside you from this tense situation, you knew you had to stick to your guns.

You shook your head at the man. “Look, thanks but no thanks. I gotta get out of here.”

The man narrowed his eyes at you, his expression rapidly deteriorating into one of judgement.

“Oh. So it’s like that, huh? Maybe I misjudged you. Maybe I was distracted by that lovely face of youses. What, are we not good enough for you?!”

He gestured to the gang around him, who were laughing and cracking their knuckles as they backed away into a wide circle. You should’ve felt more terrified, having only ever landed practice punches on your colleagues during CQC training, but your mind was preoccupied by the man’s words. Did he just… compliment you? In the middle of a stand-off?

You managed to narrowly miss getting punched square in the face. You reigned in your wandering mind, adrenaline starting to course through you as the man’s gang cheered him on. You raised your fists and focused on him, lightly bouncing on the spot. Your breathing picked up as you dodged around wildly, avoiding collisions with tables and chairs and fists alike. You didn’t want to descend into violence, but the yells of encouragement encircling your makeshift arena didn’t give you much of a choice, it seemed. Eventually, you managed to land a few punches on your opponent, boosting your confidence as his attacks slowed down more and more.

For an apparent leader of a prison gang, this guy was surprisingly easy to beat. After a dozen landed punches on his face and abdomen, he fell to the floor. His gang surrounded him immediately.

“Yancy?!” Some of them gasped. So that was his name.

Yancy slurred a response. His gang looked up at you with murderous glares. They slowly started to crowd around you.

Your eyes widened in panic. Winning one fight was something, but you’d stand no chance against all these folks.

“Wait!”

Your panic was cut short. Everyone stopped and turned back around, seeing Yancy haul himself onto his feet with a tired expression. There was a circular bruise around his eye and a cut on his lip. Some deep part of you almost felt sorry for him as he trudged towards you with a sigh and apologetic eyes.

“Maybe I was wrong about yous. Maybe I was… wrong about a lotta things.”

He patted his gang members on their shoulders as he went, eventually standing in front of you.

“Look, it’s too late for me. It’s too late for us. But I can tell that yous got somethin’ worth fightin’ for out there!” Yancy continued, his voice surprisingly soft. You smiled a little in relief.

“So what’d’ya say? Let us let bygones be bygones, and let me help yous be gone from this place?”

He held out his hand for you to shake. He looked kind, and just slightly nervous.

You sighed, still recovering from the whiplash of how quickly this situation had de-escalated. You couldn’t deny it; you needed the help, and Yancy clearly knew this place better than you did.

You took his hand with a firm shake.

“Yancy, right?” You asked him.

His smile grew wider, seemingly flattered that you’d picked up on that small detail. “Yeah. And what should I call yous?”

“Call me Zero.”

Yancy hummed with an approving nod. “Zero. Got a nice ring to it. All right, let’s get to work!”

Suddenly, the lights turned a flashing red and sirens blared around the room, making you, Yancy, and his gang jump out of your skin. The Warden strode in with a furious look on his face.

“What the hell is goin’ on around here?! Somebody turn off that infernal racket!”

The alarms whirred into nothing, the lights returning to their normal, neutral colour. Yancy hunched his shoulders and curled his hands towards his chest as the Warden stalked towards him.

“Now a fight hasn’t broken out here at Happy Trails Penitentiary in fifteen years! And now,” he loomed over Yancy with a threatening aura, “I hear you started one.”

Yancy stammered through a desperate explanation. “No, Warden, I wasn’t startin’ no fights, I was just talkin’ with my new friend here!”

Yancy glanced at you with petrified eyes. Your heart was hammering in your chest.

“I’ve heard enough!” The Warden roared.

“B-b-but Warden-” Yancy stumbled on, but the Warden cut him short.

“No buts!”

Yancy’s lip trembled. You watched on in terror, frozen to your spot and unable to look away. Dread filled every fibre of your being.

“I can’t have my prisoners runnin’ around causin’ a ruckus now, can I?” The Warden asked, clapping both hands harshly onto Yancy’s shoulders. Yancy shook his head vigorously, obviously eager to escape his firm hold.

Something snapped inside of you as the Warden clamped his hands down on Yancy like that. Before you could stop yourself, you stepped forward, words shooting out of your mouth.

“It wasn’t his fault, Warden. It… it was mine.”

Yancy snapped his head towards you. His eyes lit up in gratitude, but this was quickly replaced with a look of horror as the Warden trained his murderous glare on you. You took a deep breath and stood tall, ignoring your pounding heart.

“It’s not his fault, I provoked him. He doesn’t deserve to be punished… I do.”

Silence filled the air for a few seconds. The Warden grumbled underneath his breath.

“New or not, we will not be having fights in this establishment! You hear me?!”

You nodded back silently. You clenched your fists at your side to stop your hands from trembling.

“Now, I’ll let you off with a warnin’ cause you’re only a rookie. But if I hear one single peep outta you, outta any of you, I will throw your tuchus straight into solitary! Have I made myself clear?”

You gulped, squeaking out a meagre “mhmm.” The Warden turned to Yancy and the gang, gaining an array of agreements and nods before he strode out. The same guard that escorted you into the yard yesterday shot you a threatening look, heading out the same way as the Warden.

Once the Warden was gone, everyone let out a collectively held breath. Yancy turned to you, planting a grateful hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, thanks for takin’ the heat for me,” he sighed. “Guess I really owe you one now, huh?”

You laughed a little. “You can help me by getting me the hell out of here. Deal?”

“Deal,” he replied. “But it’s gonna take me an’ the boys and girls a bitta time to come up with a plan. Think you can sit tight for a little longer?”

He winked at you, making your heart jump unexpectedly. You nodded.

Mark, if you’re out there, I’m coming for you.

Next chapter

#a heist with markiplier #ahwm #heist mark #heist mark x reader #heist! mark x reader #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy x reader #ahwm yancy #my writing #nevernotwriting

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sithsecrets · 4 years

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A Matter of Expediency - Part IV

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

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Part 4

2.6K words

Mentions: verbal arguing, physical fighting, swearing, vulgar insults

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For the second time in a week, you find yourself surrounded by your ladies as you soak in the bathtub. It’s eerily quiet now, quieter than it was when all of you first did this.

Sabe’s bathing you again, more out of nervous need to do something than anything, you think, but everyone else sits in silence. You let her clean you, unsure of where you should start with all of this. You feel like your conversation with the Supreme Leader occurred days ago, yet he’s only been gone for less than an hour.

“Your ring is ridiculously big,” Sabe tells you, teasing in a rather subdued way as she run soap over your left hand.

“You’re just jealous that no man’s every given you a piece of space itself,” Joon counters, sticking her tongue out at Sabe when Sabe shoots daggers her way.

Joon’s smart remark cuts the tension, but Helda’s innocent little giggle breaks it entirely. You finally crack a smile, eternally grateful that all of your friends love to poke fun at one another.

“It’s not a piece of space,” you say, looking down at the prettiness of your ring. “It’s a gemstone. Not even the First Order is capable of capturing the stars.”

Sabe rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning as she does it. “One man buys her a piece of jewelry and now she fancies herself a poet.”

Lydia snorts at that, recoiling when you splash her with a bit of water for it.

“I love my ring,” you declare evenly, sinking down further into the water. Sabe pinches your side, grinning mischievously.

“Yes, but do you love Kylo Ren?” she teases. You splash her too, managing to douse the front of her dress fairly well.

Helda laughs at that, and you have to grab Sabe’s arm to stop her from attacking the girl with a splash of her own.

“I think that’s enough,” Lydia says, moving behind you to wet and wash your hair. Her touch is relaxing, and you let your eyes slip closed as she massages your scalp.

“What did the two of your talk about, besides your little piece of the galaxy?” It’s as close as Lydia will come to a jest, but you know that she’s far more concerned about the Supreme Leader’s treatment of you.

“Where he got the rings from, the wedding,” you answer, casual even as you remember how you nearly stormed out of the room when Kylo insinuated that he wasn’t excited for the ceremony.

“That’s all?” Lydia asks, still working the shampoo through your hair.

You hesitate at that, considering the implications of being honest for a moment.

“He offered me an out,” you admit quietly.

Lydia’s fingers still in your hair, suds slipping down her wrists and onto your shoulders. Sabe and Joon are slack-jawed, simply staring at you, and Helda twists her hands nervously in her skirt at the sight of everyone’s disbelief.

“What do you mean?” Lydia asks, seemingly the only one able to speak. You refuse to look at her or at anyone else, for that matter.

“He said he wouldn’t marry me if I didn’t want to be his wife,” you explain, biting your lip.

“Then why do you still have that ring on?” Sabe asks, and there’s an edge to her voice that makes the back of your neck prickle.

“Sabe-“ Joon begins, already sensing a problem. Joon’s always been good at that, cluing in on people’s emotions before they have chance to spike.

“No, Joon, shut up,” Sabe barks, jumping to her feet. She’s furious, eyes ablaze, hands balled up tight by her sides. “You aren’t seriously going to marry him now, are you?”

Lydia begins rinsing the soap from your hair, making quick work of the task. All you can do is stare up at Sabe, wide-eyed as your mouth moves of its own accord. No words come out, only short, aborted sounds that make you sound like a fool.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Sabe spits, shaking her head as if she’s disgusted by the mere site of you.

Lydia’s done with your hair now, urging you out of the bathtub. “What is that supposed to mean?” you counter, deeply offended by Sabe’s demeanor. Helda’s by your side now with a towel and your robe, already trying to dry you and get you dressed.

“Your uncle practically sells you off to the galaxy’s biggest tyrant, and you mope around and act like you’ve been sentenced to death. Fine, I can understand that!” Sabe exclaims, throwing her arms up in exasperation. “But then the Supreme Leader himself gives you an opportunity to call the whole thing off, and you don’t take it? What the fuck is that?”

Everyone’s trying to talk now, you and Joon and Lydia all cutting in at the same time. Only Helda remains silent, standing off to the side and watching on anxiously, still twisting and twisting her fists in the fabric of her skirts.

“Sabe, you need to calm-“ Joon tries to say.

“I cannot believe-“ Lydia hisses, cut off by you.

“It’s not as simple as you’re making it out to be,” you tell Sabe. A feeling of anxiety clamps down on your chest, and you feel so cold in the warmth of the room.

Your statement incenses Sabe. “What makes it so complicated then, Princess? Hm? Because it seems simple to me.” She jabs her finger at you, almost accusatorily. “You were fucking terrified to marry Kylo Ren, but now you’re not, and all after one conversation with the man! Why is that?”

A wave of anger washes over you at that, it makes you shiver in your robe. “The Supreme Leader thinks I can help the Order,” you hiss, taking a step towards your friend. “He wants me to help him rule.”

“He said that?” Joon interjects, brows raised. You nod, at her, whipping your head around quickly.

Sabe’s scoff feels like a punch in the gut. “Why?” she asks, not looking for an actual answer. “Your uncle has you make appearances for diplomatic reasons and that’s about it. You’ve never led negotiations or organized a benefit. You’ve never commanded an army or drafted a peace treaty. You’ve never done anything.”

You don’t recognize the Sabe that stands before you now. You knew nothing of the cruel streak that she’s displaying, had no idea that she could behave this way. And what’s worse, she’s absolutely right— you’ve never done anything but sit beside your uncle and look pretty while everyone around you handled the real problems. Past your beauty and your womb, what do you have to offer your fiancé?

“Kylo thinks I’m a good fit,” you insist, but even you don’t believe what you’re saying now. Tears slip down your face as you cast your eyes towards the floor, ashamed of yourself for so many reasons in this moment.

Sabe laughs a cruel laugh right in your face. “Yes, a good fit for taking his cock—”

Lydia strikes Sabe across the cheek, and the sound of it is almost deafening. Helda and Joon visibly flinch, but you’re too shocked to move a muscle. One minute, Lydia was standing off to the side behind you, but now she in front of you, in between you and Sabe.

Lydia must be stronger than any of you knew, because the force of her slap throws Sabe into the countertop at her side. Sabe looks terrified, bracing herself against the marble. She goes to say something, possibly to apologize, but Lydia is in no mood to hear her talk anymore.

“You insolent, disrespectful, disgusting child,” Lydia hisses. Her eyes are bright with rage, and she stalks towards Sabe like an animal going in for the kill. “How dare you speak to your mistress that way? Were you dropped on your head, or are you really that stupid?”

“Lydia, I—”

“Shut the fuck up, Sabe,” Lydia spits. “I am so tired of your mouth. You have said quite enough! I cannot believe that you would talk to your friend this way. The Princess has loved you, and cared for you, and put up with every little thing that you do. And how do you repay her? By calling her a useless cocksleeve? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Despite Lydia’s rage, Sabe is still willing to challenge her. “I just can’t believe that she’s going to leave her home planet to marry that man!” She cuts her eyes to you, angry again, but your own rage burns underneath your skin like fire.

“There’s nothing for me here!” you scream. The fury in your voice is powerful enough to wipe the look off of Sabe’s face, and Helda retreats into the corner of the room.

“What do you mean?” Joon ask softly, concern laced into the nervous expression on her face.

“Well!” you exclaim, gesturing all about you. “What is there for me to look forward to? I have no power, no responsibilities of my own. My uncle doesn’t love me, that much is clear now. My cousins have never been nice to me, I don’t see that ever changing. I have no lover and no potential suitors, if you don’t count the Supreme Leader. I… I’m nothing here,” you say pitifully, losing stream now. You choke out a sob, unable to stop yourself, and Lydia lays her hand on your arm.

“I just…” you whisper, chin trembling. “I just want to be somebody, and I can’t do that on this planet.”

“Princess,” Joon breathes, coming to hug you. Lydia rubs your back, and even Helda cautions a comforting comment.

“You’re someone to us already,” she says, and you could burst into tears at the mere sound of her sweet little voice. You look at Sabe, thinking surely that her attitude has changed after your speech. But when you meet her eyes, there is nothing but contempt swimming in her irises.

“You’re just like your uncle,” she declares, and you nearly choke on the air of superiority wafting around her. Joon pulls away from you, surely turning to scold Sabe for what she’s said, but she doesn’t get the chance.

“You black-hearted little twit!” Lydia roars, and she’s on Sabe faster than you or Joon can stop her.

Lydia grabs Sabe by her arms, shaking her violently as she shouts right in her face. “Get out!” she screams, “Get out and don’t come back! You have no idea what the Princess is going through, and what’s worse, you won’t even try to understand! You’ve never known duty, or responsibility, and it shows in everything you’ve just said! If you hate her so much for what she’s decided to do, leave!”

And with that, Lydia lets go of Sabe, pushing her to the ground. Sabe catches herself on her hands, completely stricken as she tries to haul herself off the floor. “You’re not my mother,” she spits, and you cannot understand why she still insists on being so defiant. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Sabe’s up now, standing once more with a rigid posture. “You think you know everything because you’re older and you were married, but you don’t, Lydia. Your husband never loved you because you were a mean, spiteful, barren hag!”

Helda claps her hands over her mouth at that, and it takes everything you have to restrain Lydia. She fights you hard, no doubt bent on tearing out Sabe’s eyes.

(For a brief moment, you almost let her.)

“Sabe, get out!” Joon shouts, giving your vicious “friend” the final push she needs to flee from your chambers.

It takes just seconds for Sabe’s footsteps to fade in the corridor, and when they do, you, Lydia, Joon, and Helda are left to absorb all that’s just happened.

“What is wrong with her?” Joon demands, speaking to no one and everyone all at once. You suck in breath after breath, slowly relaxing your grip on Lydia.

“I have no idea,” you breathe. You feel like you should be crying, given the state of things, but you can’t make yourself sob.

You feel as though you’ve been hit head-on by transport ship. Every muscle in your body aches, and you feel like you could fall down at any minute. Joon must feel the same way, because she leans back against the countertop, rubbing at her temples.

In a moment of horrified clarity, you realize that Helda’s bore witness to every bit of the last twenty minutes.

“Helda,” you say quickly, looking over at her. She’s crowded herself in the corner of the room, as far away as possible from where you and Lydia fought with Sabe. Helda’s white as a sheet and trembling, hands still working nervously in the fabric of her skirt. You move to go to her, to offer her some comfort, but Lydia heads you off.

“Helda,” Lydia says, mimicking you. She walks to the child, arms outstretched, and the look of remorse of Lydia’s face is too apparent to be disingenuous. “Helda, I am so sorry I spoke that way in front of you.”

Lydia clutches Helda against her chest, and Helda lets her, not really returning the hug. “That was awful,” the child whispers, tears slipping down her face.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, to Helda and to everyone else. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have just talked about my engagement ring and left the rest of it alone.”

Joon shakes her head quickly, scoffing. “No,” she tells you, “you should be able to talk about whatever the fuck you want. Sabe should remember her place and try to have a little empathy for other people.”

“Precisely,” Lydia says, wiping at Helda’s face with a washcloth. Helda isn’t exactly perky, but her eyes have lost their terrified stare. “Sabe should support you and understand that not all of us get to galivant about without consequences or obligations.”

“I really could have broken the engagement off,” you say, letting Joon guide you to your vanity. She begins combing your hair, and Helda and Lydia come to gather around you. “But I just… I didn’t want to. I thought I did, but then the Supreme Leader told me that he wanted my help, and it made me… excited to get married. Maybe I am like my uncle…”

Joon scoffs, batting you lightly with the comb in her hand. “Don’t even say that,” she scolds, “you’re nothing like that man. All he wants it power and money. All you want is an ounce of respect and a fulfilling life.”

Joon moves aside at Lydia’s silent prompting, making quick work of braiding your hair.

“I want to be cared for, too,” you admit quietly, almost with shame.

“Well, who doesn’t?” Lydia asks simply. “You’re a kind, sweet girl, and you deserve to be treated as such.

“That’s Sabe’s problem.”

You’re surprised to hear Helda saying that, but yourself and the others turn to her nonetheless.

“What do you mean?” Lydia asks.

“Well,” says Helda, “everyone adores Sabe. All of the men and women at court think she’s pretty, and her parents are nice to her. Sabe’s never been disliked in her life, and it’s gotten to her head.”

It’s flooring to hear Helda talk with such mature clarity, and you can’t help but give yourself a jab for underestimating her. All this time, you and the others have thought of Helda as an inexperienced child, but it’s clear that she understands more than any of you thought.

“Let her go,” Lydia declares, tying off your hair as she casts an impressed look Helda’s way. “You have bigger things to worry about.”

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #ame #my writing

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allhalloweve · 4 years

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Axe and Sword Chapter 1: The Wolf’s Den

Hello again! The official story starts with this chapter :)

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639461/chapters/65064172#workskin

“James, did you pack any trousers?”

“Of course, I’m not an—oh, hang on, I don’t think I did.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and shoved his arms deeper into the pile of colorful clothing that threatened to devour his elbows whole. “Those might be helpful if you’re going to be stomping around in the snow.”

“We are going to be stomping around.”

“What?”

“Didn’t Mum and Dad tell you? You’re coming with us to Varghal.”

“It’s Varg-hall, James, not vargull. Of the two of us, you should know that.” Sirius emerged with a handful of mismatched pants and wandered into the next room, throwing them at James’ head. “Since when am I going with you?”

“Since this morning. Mum was worried I’d get bored and cause trouble between the meetings, so she wants you to supervise me or something.” James snorted as he caught the trousers and shoved them in his bag.

“Right, because I’m just brilliant at doing that.” Sirius tapped his friend’s golden crown as he passed, setting it at a jaunty angle in his unruly curls. “I’ll pack tonight. D’you have an extra coat?”

A mischievous smile flitted across James’ face. “Yeah, I think I kept the one I outgrew when I was seven.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sirius laughed, giving him a solid shove on the shoulder. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly average height.”

“For a dwarf, maybe,” James muttered, earning himself a smack to the head. “Ow!”

A gentle knock in the other room interrupted them. “Boys, I hope you’re done packing.”

“Almost, Mum,” James said, hastily cramming in the nearest article of clothing next to his pants as Lady Euphemia raised an eyebrow from the doorway.

“I haven’t started yet,” Sirius admitted. “Somebody needed a helping hand so he wouldn’t forget his trousers.”

“Well, if worst comes to worst, James can always borrow one of my dresses.”

“Mum!” James’ scandalized look sent both his mother and Sirius into a fit of giggles.

“Don’t worry, Jamie,” Sirius said as solemnly as he could. “We both know I’d look better than you anyway. It’s all in the legs.”

“What did I do to deserve this?” James wondered aloud as Sirius dissolved into laughter once again. “I’m a good son. A decent prince.”

“And an absolute troublemaker,” Lord Fleamont said as he entered the room. “There you are, my love.” Euphemia’s face lit up as he kissed her on the cheek and enfolded her in a hug.

“Are you sure Sirius and I have to go?” James asked, watching wistfully out the window at the distant sea. “Varghal is going to be frozen solid.”

“Varg-hall,” Euphemia and Fleamont corrected in unison. James immediately turned and glared at Sirius.

“I didn’t say it,” he protested.

“James, someday you will be the leader of this nation,” Fleamont said, crossing the room and placing his hands on James’ shoulders. Euphemia winked at Sirius from behind his back as the oh-so-familiar speech began. “That means you will represent not only our family, but also the mainland and each of the islands to the rest of the world. A great responsibility comes with this—sacrifices must be made for the people we care for and your citizens will look to you as an example. Attending the annual council meetings is one of your duties.”

“Besides, it’s still early autumn. I hear Frystmark is lovely this time of year,” Euphemia added. “Sirius, you should go pack before dinner. James, please make sure you bring your trousers.”

“Trousers!” Fleamont straightened suddenly. “That’s what I forgot!”

-------------------------

The journey to Frystmark was surprisingly comfortable. Their caravan was not large, consisting of two carriages: Euphemia, Fleamont, and James would represent the island council of the Eastern Coast and only brought three attendants with them. Sirius wasn’t an attendant, but he wasn’t technically part of the royal family, either—as the royal ward, he existed in a strange in-between place that boiled down to a position as James’ official best friend. It was the best job in the world, as far as he was concerned.

Though they followed the line of the coast, Sirius could feel the temperature growing colder and drier with each passing day. The glittering teal sea became a dark, eerie blue as they went north, and the warm breezes that tickled his face were replaced by howling winds. Sirius remembered the winters in west Silvalith with their frozen rivers and large snowflakes, but the chill of Frystmark settled somewhere deep in his bones as they crossed the border.

Even the forests were different: Harindvar, though it was a prolific trading hub, did not have many trees to speak of, and the Middle Kingdom’s lush forests had all turned auburn and gold as autumn set in. Frystmark’s trees were a deep green with needlelike leaves and rough bark—they smelled sharp, totally unlike the earthy softness of oak or elm.

“What kind of people would choose to live here?” James asked quietly on the sixth night of their journey while Fleamont and Euphemia dozed on the opposite bench seat. His breath was visible against the icy glass of their carriage and Sirius was grateful for the extra coat he had borrowed.

“You know the king and queen better than I do.” Sirius squinted into the night; he could have sworn he saw something move out there.

James huffed. “That’s the weird part. Queen Hope is as sweet as Mum, and King Lyall reminds me of Dad, if someone stole his sense of humor. Their son’s a little weird, but I can’t imagine anyone willingly signing up to live in the snow nine months of the year.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius frowned.

“About what?”

“You said their son was weird.”

“Well, it’s not that he’s weird, he just…” James trailed off, biting the edge of his fingernail.

“He freaks you out.” Realization dawned on Sirius and he grinned. “Oh my god, you’re scared of him! What did he do?”

“I’m not scared of him!” James hissed. “And shush, you’ll wake Mum and Dad.”

“You totally are.”

“No, it’s—” James ran a hand through his hair and winced when he stubbed his finger on the edge of his crown. “He’s quiet, but not in a shy way. He spends most of the meetings watching everyone else and only chimes in when he can completely tear apart their argument, then comes up with this amazing plan to help three countries at once.”

“So…you’re jealous?”

“I should be.” James’ voice was barely above a murmur and Sirius wondered if he had meant to say it aloud at all. “The last time we met, this general from Silvalith tried to be an ass about his mum’s idea and he shut the guy down with less than ten words. He reminds me a lot of Marlene, actually, if she had any self-control whatsoever.”

Sirius smiled. He liked Marlene for exactly that reason: she had an air of “pretentious spoiled princess”, but beneath that shell she was wickedly smart and had a knack for trouble that rivaled his own. She was handy with a longsword, too.

“I’m glad you’re here with me.” James bumped him on the shoulder and Sirius looked away from the wilderness to return the gesture. “I know it’s the future of our country and everything, but it can get deadly boring without you.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Sirius said, bundling up against the wall of the carriage. “We should get some sleep, your mum said we’d be there by tomorrow afternoon and Marlene will never let me live it down if I lose to her in another duel.”

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Despite the creepy woods and the inherent intensity that came with a city built against a mountain, Varghal was beautiful. Sirius stared at the massive wall in awe as they passed through it, trundling along below muscular warriors and the biggest dogs he had ever seen. The mountain, like everything else, was larger than life: it shone in a myriad of icy blues and lilac against the glaring white of the snow.

The charcoal-gray castle wasn’t actually a castle, not by Sirius’ definition of the word; it was more like a really, really, big lodge with a sharply slanted roof to keep the snow off. Contrary to James’ previous comments, the people looked quite happy to be there: they smiled and waved to the Eastern Coast carriages while a herd of small children ran along behind them, shrieking with laughter.

The shock of the cold on Sirius’ unprotected face as he stepped out must have been clear, because an elderly woman came over from her soup pot and adjusted the edges of his collar into their proper position, tutting under her breath. “Welcome to the North, dear. Do try not to lose any fingers on your first day.”

Somehow, Sirius didn’t think she was joking as he shivered out a ‘thank you’ and hurried after James.

“Welcome to Varghal, friends!” King Lyall’s deep voice echoed off the stone walls as he crossed the room to greet them. The informality of the gesture was a bit surprising; in most countries, the monarchs would remain on their thrones while a steward introduced any guests, but Sirius had to admit he appreciated the lack of stiffness. “How was your journey?”

Sirius was vaguely aware of King Lyall and Queen Hope greeting the others, but his vison tunneled as soon as the prince came into view.

He was tall—taller than James, Sirius noted with a sense of satisfaction—but not nearly as broad as his father, though the sword at his hip hinted at a lot more muscle than met the eye. His wavy hair was the color of sweet caramel, and his eyes—

Sirius nearly keeled over when the prince looked at him; it was a true miracle his knees didn’t dissolve into slush. The sharp amber pinned him in place and he finally realized what James had been talking about: there was no doubt in his mind that the prince was the quickest, most observant person in the room.

“—and our ward, Sirius.” Euphemia’s smooth voice snapped him back to reality and he turned to the king and queen, turning on his brightest smile to hide the fact that he had just been ogling their son in the middle of their court.

“It’s lovely to meet you. You have a beautiful…mountain.” Sirius regretted his word choice as soon as it left his mouth, but the twinkle in Queen Hope’s eye and a quiet huff from behind her soothed his fear. The prince was barely holding down a smile, and his shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“This is our son, Remus,” King Lyall stepped aside slightly to make room for the prince.

“A pleasure.” Remus shook Sirius’ hand with the ghost of a grin at the edges of his lips.

“Indeed,” Sirius said. Would it be inappropriate to wink? Probably.

He did it anyway. The faint dusting of pink along the tops of Remus’ freckled cheekbones—freckles, oh, yes—was poorly hidden as he moved to greet James and his parents.

A guard with biceps the size of Sirius’ head led them to a nearby lodge once the initial greeting was done; they would have the welcome feast later for a proper ‘hello’, anyway, and the king and queen couldn’t spend all day chatting.

“I can’t believe you,” James hissed as they followed Euphemia and Fleamont to the lodge. “I cannot believe you.”

“What did I do?”

“Flirting! You were flirting with the fucking prince!” James’ ears had gone red, but he sounded more baffled than angry. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Did you see him?” Sirius snorted. James pinched him on the arm. “Ouch! It’s not like you’re rival countries or anything!”

“He might be betrothed, Sirius,” James said slowly, like he was explaining it to a child.

“So, what, you think I’m sexy enough to swoop in and steal some poor Frystmarkan’s man?”

“That is not the point. The point is that there could be some sort of political agreement that he’s involved in and if you screw it up it could have actual consequences.”

“…so you do think I’m sexy enough to—”

“Oh, for the love of—” James made a funny sort of grumbling noise and turned his back on Sirius.

“Do you want to know what the best part was?” Sirius waited a moment, and when James continued to march on ahead of him, he began prodding his back. “James. Jamie. I know you want to know what the best part was.”

James stopped walking and turned around, looking thoroughly exhausted. “What, pray tell, was the best part?”

Sirius’ smile was downright devilish. “It worked.”

“Jamie!” A blur of yellow and purple almost bowled poor James over.

“Hello, to you too, Marlene,” Sirius said sarcastically. “I’m doing well, thanks for asking.”

“Shut up, nerd.” Marlene threw herself at him in the way only she could, wrapping her arms tight around his chest and squeezing tight. “I’ve missed you both so much!”

“It’s good to see you.” His voice was a bit muffled in her golden curls, and the hilt of the sword on her back threatened his eye each time she moved. “How’s the lion court? Not in shambles from your adventures yet?”

“I’ve done my damndest, but still she stands,” Marlene held him at arm’s length with a wide smile. “I guess I’ll need a partner in crime one of these days.”

“You’ve already got one,” a tall woman said, smiling as she hugged Marlene from behind. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, especially not for Sirius.”

“Imagine the scandal,” Sirius mock-fainted.

“Don’t worry, Dorcas, he’s got his eye on someone else.” James wrapped his arms around Dorcas’ waist, creating a strange three-person centipede where his chin just barely cleared her shoulder.

“Who?” Marlene all but shrieked, grabbing Sirius by the arms and shaking him. “Who, who, who?”

“Let’s see,” James said. “We’ve been here for half an hour and the only people we’ve met are an elderly woman who warned him against frostbite and the royal family. I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.”

“You didn’t,” Dorcas and Marlene gasped at the same time, though one sounded significantly more gleeful than the other.

“Oh, I did,” Sirius couldn’t hold down his grin.

“And he succeeded,” James groaned, thumping his forehead against Dorcas’ back.

“Who knew you were such a rascal,” Marlene socked Sirius in the arm. “Only you would go for the king’s infamous son.”

“Infamous?” Dorcas frowned. “Remus is lovely, if a bit awkward. He’s so kind to all the kids and he’s quite a troublemaker once you get to know him. Reminds me of you, James, if you had a shred of sneakiness in your body.”

“Hey!”

“Speaking of sneaky, where’s Peter?” Sirius asked as he pulled Marlene’s arms around him and settled into the four-person hug chain. “Does he come to this sort of thing?”

Marlene pressed her face into the middle of Sirius’ back and sighed happily. Always a cuddler, he thought with an internal eye roll. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon enough. Some of the Silval knights were giving him a hard time earlier and he wanted a little time to read after unloading everything.”

“Which knights?” James’ voice had a false-casual edge to it.

“A couple of the idiots that always come along.”

“Which knights, Marlene?”

“Rosier and Yaxley,” she sighed. “Don’t worry, I already beat them in a fight and they apologized to him.” James made an unhappy sound, but he dropped the issue. “Come on, I need you three to admire my dress for the party tonight. Dorcas, darling, you already gave your opinion, but I could stand to hear it again.”

----------------------

Marlene’s dress was, admittedly, quite wonderful. If Sirius had been attracted to women in the slightest, he would definitely have been smitten by her, especially after her entrance into the welcome feast. The light from the torches sparkled off the silver fabric as the steward announced the royal family of Tidoras and she took her seat next to Dorcas, who was deep in conversation with the rest of the representatives from Marajis and whose own golden dress complemented Marlene’s perfectly.

Quite the pair, Sirius thought as he took a sip of ale.

“King Lyall, Queen Hope, and Prince Remus of Frystmark!” The steward’s voice rang out and Sirius came terribly close to spitting his ale all over James, who gave him an exasperated look as he coughed into a napkin.

Remus cast a quick look his way and the corners of his mouth twitched up. Unfortunately for Sirius’ coherent thought process or general ability to drink things, Remus’ tan tunic and navy blue cloak were exceedingly flattering against his, well, everything. Silently, Sirius sent a litany of gratitude to Euphemia for inviting him along to the council.

The feast itself was delicious and loud, just the way Sirius liked it. He thrived on the energy of a crowd, and the meeting of six countries over a wonderful dinner and plenty of ale set him alight from the inside. He was sure he could live off this feeling for years.

However, the real fun came after the meal, when the bards kicked into an upbeat tune and everyone began pushing the tables to the sides of the room to free up space for a dance floor. If anything, the hall grew louder and more chaotic, filled with swirling bodies and off-key singing that warmed the place so much that Sirius forgot how cold it was outside the walls. He wheeled around the room with Marlene, both of them laughing as they slipped between young children who wanted in on the excitement. He and James shared a dramatic slow dance once Marlene swept off to find Dorcas, much to the amusement of the older couples around them.

He took a break during a lull in the music, snagging his half-finished pint and a fresh one from the table as he made a beeline for the far windows. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I live here,” Remus laughed, taking the offered drink.

“Do you really? I hadn’t noticed. The boots really threw me off.” Sirius grinned as Remus kicked him lightly with the aforementioned boots, which were fur-lined and clearly meant for heavy snow. He snickered and took a gulp of ale, trying to suppress a grimace. “I’m really sorry, but this is terrible.”

“It is, isn’t it? Don’t tell my da, but I really can’t stand the stuff.” Remus raised his ale to a passing noble with a fake smile and took a sip of it, his face twisting.

“Are you betrothed?” Sirius asked.

Remus, who had just been tipping his flagon back for another drink, choked and spluttered. “No—” Sirius smacked him on the back twice as he regained his breath and turned to halfheartedly glare at him. “You’re an asshole. No, I am not betrothed. Why do you ask?”

“James was curious.”

“James?” Remus raised his eyebrows and glanced across the ballroom, where James was clearly struggling to escape a conversation with an elderly Middle Kingdom general. “He’s not really my type, unfortunately.”

“Tragic. He had his heart set on you, you know. He’ll be devastated.”

“I can’t say I hope he recovers. I have a reputation as a real heartbreaker around here,” Remus said mildly, waving to James, who was desperately signaling to Sirius.

“Do you?”

“Oh, yeah, the old women and the twelve-year-olds are just falling all over themselves.” They glanced at each other, then burst into laughter.

“Really, though, James wanted to make sure you weren’t promised to someone,” Sirius said as soon as he regained his breath. “I think he was worried I would accidentally end the political world with a bit of flirting.”

“Wouldn’t that be something.” Remus rolled his eyes and leaned against the windowsill, letting out a long breath. “It’s nice to have visitors. We’re not generally fond of strangers, but the council mixes things up, gives the pack something to look at other than squirrels.”

“I meant to ask about that. Why are your dogs so…”

“Gigantic? Toothy? Generally a bit frightening?” Remus finished for him.

“Exactly.”

“First of all, they’re not dogs, they’re wolves. And second of all, they’re not really wolves, either.”

“Thanks, that really clears it up.”

“They’re called direwolves,” Remus said with a laugh. “They’re like regular wolves, but bigger and stronger, and we train them with our warriors. That’s why our sigil is a direwolf; they’re sacred to our people.” He gestured to the flags that hung from the eaves bearing the shape of a snarling wolf’s head.

“Is that why your capital is called ‘Varghal’? It means ‘wolf den’, right?” Sirius smiled as Remus looked at him in surprise. “Hey, I know things.”

A secretive smile crossed his face for a half-second. “Yeah, that’s mostly why.”

“Remus! There you are, sweetheart.” Queen Hope glided toward them from the end of the table with a warm smile before Sirius could inquire further. “Hello, Sirius, how are you?”

Sirius bowed to her. “I’m doing well, Queen Hope. The feast is fantastic and your son is an excellent conversationalist.”

“Your father wants to speak with you for a moment,” Hope tugged on the edge of Remus’ cloak and shepherded him across the room, toward a crowd of noblemen. King Lyall stood out from the others—the was the strongest by far, and nearly the tallest.

“See you later?” Sirius asked.

A soft blush, much different than the flickering hints of mischief from before, spread across Remus’ cheeks. “Sure.”

Whatever King Lyall wanted to talk about, it must have been important, because he kept Remus in the group for close to an hour. By the time he was done, Sirius was consoling James after a failed attempt at wooing a lovely woman with fiery red hair.

“She’s just so beautiful,” James mourned with his chin propped on his arms as he watched her chat with Dorcas. She was indeed quite pretty, and her dark green dress showed off some serious muscle on her arms. “And really smart, too. Nobody’s ever insulted me so thoroughly in such a short amount of time.”

“I think we need to have a talk about your turn-ons, Jamie,” Sirius said sympathetically, patting him on the back. “Generally, when someone insults you, you don’t keep pursuing them.”

James groaned and thumped his forehead on the table with a muffled “ow”.

“Excuse me.” Someone tapped gently on Sirius’ shoulder. “Could I steal you for a dance?”

He grinned as James slowly raised his head again. “Absolutely, your highness.”

Remus paused and craned his neck to look down at James. “Oh, and James? I’m not betrothed, though I appreciate your interest.”

The mortified flush that spread beneath James’ dark tan was something Sirius would treasure for the rest of his life as he allowed himself to be pulled along by the hand. “Is this a good time to mention that I don’t know how to do any formal Northern dances?”

Remus flashed him a quick smile and grabbed his other wrist. “You’ll catch on.”

Dancing in Varghal was very different than dancing in Silvalith or Harindvar. Western dances were stiff and formal with careful steps and little rhythm, while the Eastern dances were mostly group-oriented or done by trained dancers who swayed and twirled to the music. Therefore, Sirius was not expecting to be grabbed by the elbow and spun around in a tight circle by a giggling little girl in a yellow dress, who passed him off to the old woman who had fixed his collar earlier before disappearing into the mass of bodies.

He got the hang of the dance pretty quickly: partners swung each other in a few close spirals before joining up with someone new, and once in a while the group would clap along to the jaunty music or form a set of wide circles that ducked and wove within one another. Marlene and Dorcas whirled by him a few times, smiling freely and glimmering in the torchlight—quite the pair, he thought for the second time that night.

Twice, he caught Remus’ eye and tried to spin towards him, but both times they were snagged by other partners before they could meet in the middle. This kind of dancing was pure, unbridled fun that rose to a fever pitch as the song began to crescendo. Sirius was a bit dizzy from all the turning until a familiar hand closed around his own and Remus’ amber eyes, alight with joy, locked onto his own.

They spun together, hands linked, dipping in and out in a wild pattern until the final note struck and Sirius found himself chest-to-chest with Remus, staring into his eyes, breathless. They were both panting lightly and a little bit sweaty; Remus’ pupils were blown wide and his mouth was turned up in a faint smile. The air between them hummed with something that had no name and didn’t need one—all it would take was a single step from either of them, and they would be kissing.

“Friends and countrymen!” King Lyall’s voice boomed out over the crowd, hushing all the dancers. Remus quickly stepped away and Sirius followed suit, squeezing his hand once before taking a seat by James, still reeling from the dance. “It is a true honor to host you all for the annual council. This is a time for fostering unity and forming new friendships with one another, and I hope this week’s meetings will leave us all ushering in another year of peace and prosperity.”

The hall rang with cheers and applause as people mobbed the king for a handshake or a quick conversation, and it soon became clear that Remus would be occupied for the rest of the night. Downsides of being a prince, Sirius thought wryly as he followed James out of the hall and past Marlene, who had fallen asleep on Dorcas’ shoulder.

“Oh, fuck,” Sirius blurted as he entered the night on James’ heels. “It’s cold.”

James quipped some muffled agreement from the depths of his coat, but Sirius couldn’t hear it over the rushing wind or the biting cold against his skin, even beneath all his clothes. They sprinted for the Eastern Coast lodge, shivering as they slammed the door shut and peeled away their outer layers. “Ugh, I don’t know how I’ll survive a week here.”

“With plenty of warm drinks and long sleeves, Jamie.” A huge yawn crackled Sirius’ jaw and he trudged toward his bed. The number of blankets and furs had seemed excessive during the daytime, but he was eternally grateful for them now as he pulled two nightshirts on and bundled himself up. He heard James getting ready for bed in the adjacent room and the familiar sound was enough to lull him to sleep, into a land of dreams of secret smiles and watchful amber eyes.

------------------------------------

Sirius awoke to a scratching at the door. The wind had increased in volume and the cold had leeched through the thick walls since he last remembered. He paused, staring at the ceiling, until the scratching sounded again, followed by a pitiful whine. Dog? he thought sleepily. Dog! Cold dog, poor baby.

Before he could wake up enough to question his decision-making skills, he was out of bed and crossing the small room, where a soft thump against the wood broke his heart. He wouldn’t wish this blizzard on anyone, least of all an innocent dog—he had always loved dogs.

The lock was stubborn, but it came free after a moment and he opened the door; the resulting blast of frigid air in his face startled him into full consciousness. It was still pitch-black outside and he took a half-second to wonder at the time before a fuzzy shape darted past his legs and into the room. “What the—” Sirius slammed it closed, locking it tight and trying to get his bearings. “Um. Hello.”

A spray of cold water hit him full in the face as the beast shook its fur clean and sat down, cocking its head at him. Sirius coughed once and wiped his face clean, still blinking sleep from his eyes.

“You’re not a dog, and not a wolf. You certainly look like one, though. Direwolf! That’s what you are!” The direwolf’s tail thumped against the ground. Sirius grinned and sat on the ground, holding his hand out like he used to for strays. “C’mere, puppy! C’mere!”

The direwolf stood up again—shit, the thing was even bigger now that he was on its level—and stepped closer, tentatively sniffing Sirius’ fingers. It backed up when he reached out to pet it and growled low in its throat, a warning sound that sent ice down his spine. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Nice puppy.”

He took a deep breath and outstretched his hand once more, palm down, then closed his eyes. “There, I won’t grab at you if I can’t see you. Please don’t eat my hand.”

There was a moment of quiet, punctuated by the click-clack of nails on the ground and gentle whuffs of the snuffling dog, before something cold and wet touched Sirius’ palm. He cracked one eye open and found the direwolf nearly face-to-face with him, its muzzle pressed against his hand as it stared at him. “Oh.” All the breath rushed from his lungs and he shakily smiled. The wolf nosed along his arm and pressed its head into his hand, rubbing back and forth.

“Do you want pats?” Sirius ran a hand down the wolf’s neck and its tag wagged happily, spurring him on. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Good boy!” He reached up to scratch behind its ears and the wolf went boneless, flopping down onto him and sending them both to the floor. “Oof!”

Sirius lifted his head off the ground and nearly touched noses with the direwolf, whose chin was propped on his collarbones and pinned him to the ground. “How the hell did I get here?” he wondered aloud, letting his head fall back again. “As much as I enjoy being warm again, you’re crushing my ribcage and I’d like to get some sleep.” The wolf just blew out a long, damp breath into his face. “Thanks.”

Carefully, he reached for the general area of the wolf’s shoulders and pushed—by some miracle, the wolf took the hint and stood up, then wandered to his bed and hopped onto it. “That wasn’t an invitation, but alright.” The direwolf stared down at him with dark golden eyes, blinking once in an I dare you to move me kind of way. “I have the sinking suspicion you’re going to eat me when you look at me like that.”

It took a moment to sort out the tangled pile of blankets on the bed before he could settle in, but soon he was cuddled up beneath a mound of once-warm furs and trying to ignore the large carnivorous beast at the foot of the bed. As soon as his eyelids began to droop, the direwolf whined. Is it a good idea to kick a 150-pound predator off the bed? No.

It whined again and Sirius groaned. “What now?” He opened his eyes and didn’t bother struggling to sit up; all his resolve melted away as the wolf stared at him with the saddest puppy eyes he had ever seen. “Alright, come on.”

The direwolf shuffled forward and burrowed under the covers, kicking Sirius once or twice as it scooted up. It looked at him a bit suspiciously as it emerged on the opposite side of the bed, like it was waiting for him to change his mind. “Did you know you’re a sacred symbol here?” The wolf shifted a bit closer. “In my opinion, sacred symbols should be a little more considerate of hat time they come calling on sleeping people.”

It wagged its tail and drew even closer. “You smell like wet dog and your fur is still damp from the snow. I’m not snuggling you.” Sirius was too tired to deal with overgrown puppies tonight, so he turned on his side and closed his eyes.

The direwolf pawed at his shoulder and nearly tipped him over the side of the bed. “Stop that.”

Another paw. “Stop it, I’m trying to sleep!”

Apparently, the wolf’s thin shred of patience ran out, because the next thing Sirius felt was a freezing cold nose pressing against the back of his neck. “Hey!”

“Sirius?” James’ groggy voice made them both go stock-still. “Who’re you talking to?”

“A direwolf broke into my room, Jamie, and now it’s trying to cuddle me, or possibly eat me. Go back to sleep.”

“Right then, sleep well.” James wandered back through the doorway to his bedroom and closed the door once more. Chances were, he wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning.

Sirius rolled onto his ack and turned his head to look at the direwolf. “You shouldn’t be here when morning comes. I’m sure your warrior friends are going to miss you, though you don’t seem like much of a fighter.”

Gingerly, without breaking eye contact, the wolf laid its nose on Sirius’ shoulder. He smiled and gave it another scratch behind its tawny ears, then closed his eyes and let his breathing even out to match the wolf’s steady huffs. Within a minute, he was asleep.

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The direwolf was gone when Sirius woke up, though he had no idea how it had gotten out. The only evidence that it existed at all was a handful of tan-and-white fur scattered along the sheets and Sirius’ outer nightshirt. “Weird,” he muttered under his breath as he dug around in his rucksack for regular clothing.

Breakfast was a quick affair of berries and salted meats alongside a mug of hot chocolate that Sirius savored for nearly ten minutes. It wasn’t spiced like the kind they drank on the Eastern Coast, but rather dark and smooth as it coated his tongue. The clock on the wall finally motivated him to leave the comfort of the lodge and head out into the village, where he made a beeline for the armory.

“Jamie, you in there?” he called as he walked around the side of the building.

“Back here!”

Sirius followed the voice and found James taking careful aim at a target on the other side of a large arena. “Your first meeting is in ten minutes.”

“I know.”

“You should get going soon.”

“I will.”

“James.”

The arrow embedded itself next to several of its kin and James drew another without sparing a glance at Sirius. “I’m always on time, don’t worry. Look, this bow has a different curve than mine, so it’s got more power over less distance. See how well the arrows stick? It’s really beautiful work.”

“I’m sure it is. Unless you want me to give it a whirl, you should go to your meeting.”

James lowered the bow and looked at him in horror. “If you even breathe on this masterpiece I will maim you.”

“That’s what I thought. Come on, you can ogle the curve of the bow later.” He had to practically drag James away from the armory—honestly, the boy was hopeless when it came to archery, Sirius couldn’t take him anywhere—and they trudged toward the meeting tent and tried to ignore the snow that threatened to freeze their toes off. “I’m going to go find Pete. We’ll be in the main hall when you’re all done.”

As Fleamont and Euphemia’s ward, he remained under their guardianship, but whenever an important meeting called for the councilmembers he had to stay outside. The only real downside to being friends with the royal children of nearly every country on the continent was that they were required to sit in on those same meetings without him.

“Sirius! Hey!” Speak of the devil.

“Pete!” Sirius opened his arms for a tight hug. “How’ve you been? We couldn’t find you yesterday before the feast.”

Peter flushed and chewed at his lip. “I lost track of time, sorry. I just started this amazing new book that I just couldn’t put down and—oh! You haven’t met Lily, have you?”

“Lily?”

“She was at the party last night, hang on. Lily!” Peter stuck his head into the blacksmith’s shop. “Do you have a second?”

“What’s up, Pete?” Sirius just barely managed to contain his shock as the girl who had so completely rejected James at the party emerged, holding an axe in one hand and a whetting stone in the other. “Oh, hello, aren’t you friends with the idiot who hit on me last night?”

“I am, yeah.” Sirius extended a hand to her. “I’m Sirius, and the idiot was James. You really broke his heart.”

Lily shook his hand and gave him a suspicious look. “I’m not going to apologize.”

“I didn’t expect you to. James needs a little humbling now and then, and I can only do so much.”

Peter beamed at them. “Sirius, Lily is the best board game player I’ve ever met.”

“Is that true?” Sirius raised an eyebrow at the redhead. “I take that as a personal challenge, Lilyflower.”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Lily sheathed her axe at her hip and started walking toward the main hall. “Come on, you two, I’ve got a title to win.”

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In less than two hours, Lily cemented her place as one of Sirius’ favorite people. She was funny, smart, and kicked their asses at every single game they played until he finally gave in and started placing his checkers pieces with his eyes closed in the hope that a higher power would intervene just once.

“Lily?” James’ voice cracked horribly from the doorway. “Wha—but you’re—why are you here?”

“Is that an existential question or a literal one?” she asked without looking up from the board. “Currently, I’m here to beat your friend at checkers.”

“I call witchcraft,” Sirius complained as she took his last piece.

“I call skill,” she shot back with a wicked grin. “I believe you owe me something, good sir.”

He heaved a sigh and climbed on the tabletop. “Lily Evans is the most wonderful, talented, and badass person to ever grace this land.”

Peter clapped politely from his seat. “A true statement if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Thanks for the victory, boys. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.” Lily ruffled Peter’s hair and strolled out of the hall, brushing past James as she went without a backward glance.

“She could murder me with that axe and I’d thank her,” James said faintly as soon as she was out of earshot. “That’s the love of my life right there.”

“Keep bothering her and you might get your wish,” Marlene teased, plopping herself down at the game table. “Pete, roll it back, would you?”

The dice game, along with several others, stayed active for much of the day as the four royals ducked in and out of meetings. Sirius had never been to a council before, but he could tell it took effort for them to make time in between important peace talks; more than once, Dorcas slouched low in her seat to avoid the sightline of another official, and on one memorable occasion James fully hid under the table when his father entered the room.

“We’ve got defined times to talk about these things,” he defended once Fleamont had left. “Twenty minutes of game time isn’t going to plunge the continent into war.”

The downtime between councils quickly became Sirius’ favorite part of the day: whether he was sandwiched next to Remus around a game of dice or mock-dueling Marlene in the arena behind the armory, he felt the bonds of friendship blossoming between the seven of them with each new inside joke and victory.

He often forgot that Lily, the oldest of their group, was only twenty-three; Peter, the youngest, had just turned twenty a month prior. They acted like they were sixteen again, racing around the village in a pack and dredging up fun wherever they went. According to James, the annual council was usually a solemn event for discussing heavy issues without a lot of outside interaction; watching the tension melt away from everyone’s faces warmed Sirius from the inside out.

On the fifth day of the council, the royal children were only allowed to attend the morning meetings, which left their entire afternoon open. “I have an idea,” Remus said as soon as they met up outside the main hall. He was practically bouncing with excitement as he led them to the outskirts of the town, where a rickety old shed wobbled in the rushing wind. “I need one shoe from each of you.”

Had anyone else taken him into the frozen wilderness and borrowed a shoe, Sirius would have laughed in their faces; for Remus, however, all his logic went flying out the window. It was almost embarrassing how fast his left boot came off.

“What’s he doing in there?” Dorcas asked as she balanced on one leg a d rubbed feeling back into her bare foot. “I’ll lose my poor toes if he takes much longer.”

“I can hear you!”

“Good! Give me my shoe!”

Remus appeared a moment later with a collection of strange boots hanging off his arms. “I have something better for you, you ungrateful hellion.”

“Are these…knife shoes?” Marlene took her pair and squinted at the blades someone had welded to the soles.

“These are ice skates. Don’t put them on now!” he shooed Sirius’ hand away. “We have a bit of a walk first.”

‘A bit of a walk’ turned out to be a twenty-minute trek through the forest that left them all simultaneously sweaty and numb, but it was worth it when they broke through a dense patch of bushes.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Lily breathed as a wide lake came into view.

She was correct—the lake was unlike anything Sirius had ever seen. Patches of snow rested on the thick ice and gleamed in the afternoon sun, making the whole thing shine. “Alright, put your skates on and then follow me.” Remus was already lacing up his knife shoes, looking more excited than Sirius had seen yet.

The skates fit differently than normal shoes and it was a real struggle to get them on properly; a quick glance around told him that he was not the only one having issues. Still, Sirius was the first to get his on and stepped onto the ice, only to fall flat on his back.

“Maybe you should try hanging onto a branch first,” Remus called from further out, sounding far too amused. “It’s easy once you get the hang of it.”

Sirius wobbled to his feet, feeling for all the world like a newborn deer taking its first steps, and took a shaky step. His skate slid straight out from under him and he clutched the branch for dear life. Ahead of him, Remus was gliding along the ice in smooth curves like he had been born for it.

Step, plant, push. Easy enough. Sirius planted his right foot and pushed off with his left, skidding forward along the branch. A surprised laugh bubbled out of his chest. “I did it!”

“How?” James griped to his left, where he was half-dangling off a branch.

“You step, plant your foot, and then push off with the other.” Sirius took another step and let go of the branch, moving towards the center of the lake. His momentum carried him forward without a lot of extra pushing, and soon he was headed straight for Remus. “Wait, shit, I don’t know how to stop!”

Remus’ eyes widened a half-second before Sirius slammed into him, sending them both to the ice with a clatter. “Ow,” he groaned beneath him.

“Sorry.” He tried to stand up again, but only succeeded in falling over again and elbowing Remus in the kidney, making them both wince.

“Stop, stop moving before you break something.” Remus grabbed his shoulders and pushed him onto the ice, then stood in one graceful step and hauled him up by the collar. “For future reference, you turn your skates sharply to stop, alright? Here, hold on to me and I’ll show you.”

Sirius listed to the side and gripped the hollow of Remus’ elbow for support. “Ice is a lot harder than dirt.”

“I won’t let you fall.”

A chord struck deep in Sirius’ chest and he looked up from his skates. Remus was watching him steadily, holding him tight as they skated along the pale blue ice that seemed to glow from underneath. I could lean in right now and kiss him. It wouldn’t take much. I’ll risk falling for that.

“Remus?” Lily’s palpable frustration cut through the whirring in his head. Their moment melted away. “We could use a hand.”

Timing, Lily. Remus released his forearms and skated over to Lily and James, who had somehow managed to lock their skates together when they fell; after taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Sirius made his wobbly way back to the shore and sat down heavily in the snow with a barely-concealed huff of annoyance.

“Hey, guys?” Marlene stopped in front of the group and laced her fingers with Dorcas’. “We have an announcement to make. Everyone will know at dinner, but we wanted to tell you first.”

“We’re engaged!” Dorcas beamed and held up her arm, where a thin silver bracelet adorned her wrist. Marlene showed an identical one in gold.

Sirius’ jaw dropped and Lily shrieked as James tried to stand up, momentarily forgetting their predicament and dragging her backwards along the ice in his excitement. “You’re joking,” Peter gasped. “Marlene, you didn’t tell me that!”

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Marlene laughed as Peter nearly tackled her in a hug.

“Congratulations!” Remus said, wrapping Dorcas in a hug. “When did this happen?”

“Two weeks ago.” Dorcas looked over at her girlfriend—no, her fiancée, Sirius corrected himself—with soft, dreamy eyes. “Our parents approved it a while ago, but we figured now was as good a time as any.”

“That is so sweet,” James sniffled as Lily took off her skates entirely to pull both women in for a group hug in just her socks. Sirius joined them a moment later, followed by Remus, and finally James who also removed his skates so he wouldn’t bowl them over.

They fell over anyway, of course, landing in a snowdrift on the shore in a tangle of limbs and laughter. Sirius wanted to bottle the feeling of laying side-by-side with his best friends, giggling like twelve-year-olds as they escaped their looming responsibilities for once perfect afternoon until dusk fell.

There, out on the frozen lake, nobody cared who ran what country or what the politicians were saying or what the future would look like. They could just be together and celebrate a beautiful moment, letting seven hearts beat as one.

----------------------------

That night, Sirius awoke to the sound of screaming.

He was on his feet in an instant, letting the shock of nighttime cold wake him up as he pulled on the nearest clothes he could reach and buckled his sword around his waist before throwing the door between rooms open. “James! James, get up!”

“I’m up, but I don’t know where Mum and Dad are.” James’ face was gray with fear as he ran in from the adjacent room, an arrow already nocked in his bow. The acrid smell of smoke burned Sirius’ nose as he forced his own door open and barely avoided the huge hooves of a terrified horse as it bolted for the woods.

“Where would they go?” he asked over the noise, drawing his sword. Flames licked the huge wooden wall that surrounded the front of the city and sent huge plumes of ash into the cool air; the men and wolves that ran along the top had become smudges of shadow in the chaos.

“I don’t know, I heard wood splintering and—” James swung around suddenly and sent his arrow into the neck of a black-clad man with a dagger who was chasing down a young milkmaid. Sirius took his place at James’ back on instinct—they had never fought in an actual battle before, but he knew where he needed to be.

“I don’t see them anywhere.” Sirius scanned the crowd and knocked an arrow aside with the flat of his sword. He could taste the bitter adrenaline on his tongue and teeth as it raced through his veins.

The gate shuddered and groaned as more raiders pour through the bottleneck, roaring incoherent battle cries. A hand closed around Sirius’ bicep and he whirled around, already bringing his sword down in a deadly arc, only for it to be blocked by another blade. “You have to leave right now!” Remus shouted, lowering his sword.

“We have to find my parents!” James argued, picking off another raider on the wall.

Cold fear oozed down Sirius’ spine. “Where are the others?”

“In a secret passage in the woodpile. Marlene and Dorcas couldn’t find their parents, either.” Remus sheathed his sword and grabbed James’ elbow, tugging them both toward a mound by the edge of the woods.

That’s no coincidence, Sirius thought. Three sets of royals going missing in the heat of an ambush?

He knew he only had two options: he could take James and look for the people who had protected him in his hour of greatest need, possibly getting them all killed in the process, or he could protect his newfound friends as they fled a doomed city. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he wasn’t sure they were from the smoke.

“Let go of me!” James snarled as Sirius grabbed him around the waist and hauled him toward the passage. Remus ran ahead and held the cover aside, revealing Lily, Peter, Marlene, and Dorcas huddled together in the dark. “Sirius, get the fuck off me!”

“Follow the passage and take a left at the first fork,” Remus ordered, chancing a look over his shoulder as he pushed them all back. “It’ll take a day or two, but you’ll end up at the border to the Middle Kingdom. Lily, can you take it from there?”

“I can.” Lily’s grip tightened on her axe.

“Good.”

Horrible understanding seized Sirius’ heart and he grabbed Remus’ hand. “You’re not coming with us?”

Remus looked down at their hands, then up at Sirius’ face. “This is my home. I can’t just—”

“Remus!” All seven of them jumped as King Lyall emerged from the fray, his sword drawn and bloody. “What are you still doing here? Take them to safety!”

“What?” Remus dropped Sirius’ hand and rocked back like he’d been hit. “I’m staying here to fight.”

“No, you need to lead them out of Frystmark.”

“I will not abandon my people,” he said, his voice breaking. “Da, please, I won’t leave you.”

“You must.” Lyall reached forward and cupped Remus’ cheek. “I am so proud of you. Fight hard. Be brave.” Noise erupted behind him as the gate crashed down in a fiery blaze and raiders flooded into the city.

“Da, you can’t—” Remus’ plea cut off as Lyall lifted his sword and, with a last look to his son, charged into the fray.

After a few thundering heartbeats of silence, Dorcas reached out and touched Remus’ elbow. “We need to go.”

He looked down at them, his beautiful amber eyes drowning in terror and despair, then back at Varghal. He’s going to stay, Sirius thought. He’s going to stay and he’s going to die. Remus took a deep, shaking breath and turned around, pushing the seven of them into the tunnel.

Sirius could still hear the direwolves howling as the night enveloped them.

#axe and sword #marauders au #marauders #harry potter #james potter #lily evans #sirius black #remus lupin #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #peter pettigrew #wolfstar #dorlene #jily

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chronicowboy · 5 years

Text

Carol Danvers did not expect to get attached to another snarky on the outside but soft on the inside man when she returned to earth. She was simply told that a person, immeasurable in his importance and loved more than he knew, was stranded in space. There was no hesitation in her actions, she marched outside and launched herself into the atmosphere; something she'd done a thousand times but this one felt different. It didn't take all that long for her to find the ship, a man wasting away in the cockpit. For a terrible, agonising moment she thought she was too late, but his eyes — they didn't flutter, no, that's far too delicate a word for what they did — opened with immense force and she breathed a sigh of relief before pushing the ship back home. It was a strange feeling that hung in the air when she laid the ship down. Anxiety, love, curiosity, anger, sadness, regret and comfort combined in a concoction of suffocating agony. The man, Tony Stark, exited the ship and immediately everyone rushed to his aid.

It was hours before Carol felt it appropriate to check on him. What she didn't know was with one simple step into the room and question of his state she'd find a new friend. Pepper, his wife she'd found out, and James, his best friend, had dozed off after he'd finally woken up. A telling off of her fellow captain even without knowing the history behind it was very satisfying, but exhausting for the man who was dying just moments before. He had woken up a while ago and sent his closest loved ones to slumber safe in the knowledge that their Tony was back home, tiring jokes and all. She poked her head in, waving a hand.

"Hey, Carol, is it?" He asked in a stage whisper. She nodded, closing the door softly behind her. "Thanks for saving me and all. Big fan of that whole photon glow thing you have going on-"

"You don't have to do that." She muttered, knowing exactly what he was trying to; she knew it like the back of her hand. "Look, I'm not gonna ask how you are because I know you'll just say you're fine in the form of some snarky comment-"

"So you're me, if I was blonde, female and an alien?" The sincerity in her tone made him uneasy just as all captains did.

"I'm of the human disposition, unfortunately. Survived a blast from the tesseract, absorbed its energy and here we are." An odd sense of pride settled in her heart when he smirked. "I don't know what went on with you guys," she gestured to the captain pacing outside with Natasha, "but I want you to know that I don't give a shit. That rant, that was fucking satisfying as anything. And I know he deserved it." She settled into the empty seat beside Pepper as he chuckled. "I've seen the tapes. Of you fighting," and Tony was struck with the terrible feeling that he was going to be made to question his morals. "You're a good man. You fight for what's right, anyway you can, but you still take more precautions than the rest of them to preserve civilian lives. I think we'll get along just fine." They sat there until the morning, getting to know each other. Carol heard countless stories of Peter Parker, the brave kid from Queens, and his far too loyal for her own good wife whilst Tony heard about the ever-aging family she can never manage to say goodbye to when she leaves and tales about a young, two-eyed Nick Fury. When she left in the morning, a bond had already been formed.

Over the course of a very long half-decade where the skies were embedded with a thick pall of ash that was formerly living loving things, Carol dropped by every now and then. Her holographic meetings with Natasha, a woman she'd grown quite fond of, were nice but that was the only contact she had with earth. Her days spent on the planet were reserved for one small, broken family. Catch ups with the Starks. Baby Morgan, who got older each time and Carol didn't like it, staring in awe at the glowing lady. Pepper, who's smile lit up the room, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Tony, who still mourned the loss of his mentee, bringing her into bone crushing hugs that got ever so slightly weaker each time.

When he died, Carol was lost. She had Maria and Monica and Nick back, but at the cost of Tony's life. It was all tainted, but she couldn't bring herself to be angry with the man. She didn't get to see Peter Parker at the funeral, only met him once in the midst of their war. He was a kind boy with a strength almost equal to her own. She instantly found herself vowing to protect him at all costs and she knew that'd mean mentoring him when he was ready to be a hero once more.

☆☆☆

It's a year later when Peter finally finds the strength to go back to the compound. May had called up Rhodey a while ago and asked for his opinion on the subject.

"When he's ready, we'll be waiting. He's an avenger, but we still need time after something like this." James regretted that last part when the kind woman's inquiries into his wellbeing brought tears to his eyes and a lump to his throat.

Peter said he needed a little more time. He thought he should be a normal teenager for a while because,

"It's what Tony would have wanted."

When the day came, May was beyond apprehensive. Peter had been more fidgety than usual, somehow, so much so that she could practically feel the sickening vibrations of excitement and anxiety. She drove him to the compound with tensed shoulders and nervous glances at the passenger seat. Peter smiled at her each time, it hurt to go there with the guarantee of no Tony but he was ready to be back to his normal as can be superhero career. May had to resist the urge to walk him to the door with two strong hands on his shoulders. He could practically see her thoughts and took her hands in his when he was out of the car. She walked him in, greeting Happy with a smile as Rhodey pulled Peter towards the meeting room. They didn't say goodbye. Didn't have to.

"Alright, kid. Now, we're gonna ease you back in. Most of us are away on business, but there's somebody who's looking forward to meeting you. Properly, anyway." He held the door open for him and the blonde lady, Captain Marvel he vaguely remembered her being called in the letters Tony had written for him, turned around.

"Hey, Peter Parker." She smiled. He ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the small flashback of the battle and let the grin tug the corner of his lips up.

"Captain Marvel?" His words dripped with adoration.

"Please, call me Carol. Captain Marvel is my mother." She joked before backtracking at the incredulous look on his face. "No. Um, not really. I was just joking. All human, you see. Just absorbed the energy of the tesseract so now I can do this," she points a clenched fist at the wall and a photon blast leaves a scorch mark.

"Come on, man. I thought we stayed in contact because we're both the only no nonsense avengers." Rhodey groaned.

"We are, but, James, there's a child in the room. Unlike you, I'm great with kids." She replied coolly, bumping shoulders with Peter.

"Okay, one, I'm nearly eighteen-"

"So still a kid." She interrupted, but was swiftly ignored by the boy.

"And, two, your name is James?" He laughed as Rhodey grumbled something about a headache and walked out.

"Carol Danvers at your mentoring service." She bowed, grinning.

"You're going to be my new mentor?" He asked, shaking off the waver in his voice.

"I mean, I know I'm off world a lot but yeah. I don't see why not. I'm the best influence here. You're basically as strong as me and your webs mean you can fly. Kind of. You get what I mean. The only difference is, I can shoot the power of an infinity stone out of my fists." Peter's eyes widened in awe. The beam on his face ached and he thought it was physically impossible for it to grow anymore. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled like this so genuinely. However, the lightness of the air quickly evolved into a serious atmosphere as she sat down and motioned for him to take a seat. He complied immediately, heart freezing in fear of what was to come. "Tony told me a lot about you," and there it was. He sucked in a deep breath and knew his new, out of this world, insanely cool mentor was watching him deteriorate. "Hey, hey. Take a deep breath. Heroes are allowed to be scared. The best ones usually are." She smiled kindly yet sadly. "Do you want me to carry on?" Peter nodded, steeling himself with the necessity of hearing what was to be said.

"I do." He confirmed.

"He told me how brave you are, how strong and kind and respectful. How you'd do anything to please him, but you weren't afraid to stand up to him when he was being stubborn. He admired you more than he'd ever get to admit. Said his biggest regret was not telling you how much you meant to him when you were alive. He loved you, Pete. And, not to make this about me or anything, I knew I would to when you were polite enough to introduce yourself to me whilst holding the doom of the universe in your tired arms." She stood abruptly as her — was that a pager? — pager beeped. "I have to go. Rhodey has your way of contacting me whenever you need me. Whether it's life threatening stuff or you just need to talk, please get in touch." She pulled him into a newly comforting embrace before ushering him out of the door. "I want to meet this 'hot aunt' of yours." He found yet another smile forming on his face.

Happy stopped mid-sentence and looked over May's shoulder. She turned around, fearing the dejected look she was sure to see on Peter's face and the furrowed brow on Rhodey's. Instead, she found her grinning nephew next to a woman who seemed to be glowing. An expression of pure amazement tugging at his face.

"Hello?" May offered her hand. Carol took it, pulling a face of approval.

"You must be the wonder aunt, May Parker. You raised a wonderful boy and the world's safer for it. Thank you." Carol noticed they were still holding hands and blushed slightly as she coughed, retracting her gloved hand.

"Um, thanks?" May asked uncertainly as an inexplicable smile spread across her face.

"No problem. Sorry this has to be an abrupt meeting, but too many planets to save and too little time to save them. Bye, Peter, May." She nodded before retreating to the doors.

"Who's that?" May asked as they watched her shoot off into the sky.

"Carol Danvers. My new mentor." Peter looped his arm through May's and began recounting the wonderfully bizarre encounter he'd just had.

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buckitybarnes · 6 years

Text

Street Star: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Anon:“Hey lovely! I was wondering if you could do a request where the reader is a street singer and one day Bucky hears her and starts coming by every day because he is falling for her. And one day, she finally talks to him? Thank you, darl!”

Warnings/Themes: Fluff!! Profanity/humor. Mentions of prostitutes (It’s Vegas, fam).

Author’s Note: More fluff to prepare you for your death in Infinity War. Speaking of which, this will be my last upload for a few weeks (because, like I said, I’ll be dead). See you guys when I see you! And wish me luck watching this film.

Has not been checked for fluency errors/mistakes.

Song lyrics used are as follows: “Dead Sea” - The lumineers. “Let You Go” - Mahcine gun Kelly. “Can I be Him” - James Arthur.

Y/N = Your Name

Permanent:

@chamongangae @lovely-geek @glimmering-darling-dolly @badassbaker @geeksareunique @cameronskywalker @dottirose @httpmcrvel @ludwigs-a-monster @itstribute12 @iminlovewithasuperboy @not-reptilian @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes @thefridgeismybestie @whileinparis @part-time-patronus @lionheo04 @hottrashformarvel @buckybarnesappreciationsociety

Music is food for the soul.

Bucky scoffed at that saying. It reminds him of Shakespeare and that guy? Well, Bucky thought he was a real phony.

Music was nice and all, but it was silly to think anything more of it.

Oh, how he was wrong.

It starts off on a Monday night.

There’s a month-long intel mission he’s assigned to in Las Vegas, Nevada. At first, the flashy lights and raunchy showgirls overwhelmed him. He’d be embarrassed to admit how many times he flinched when a solicitor tried to shove a card into his hands. By now, his pockets were full of them. For some reason, he felt a little bad throwing them away. These guys worked hard after all.

Still, he hopes no one sees the cards.

It would be difficult to explain the prostitutes on there.

He exhales, tucking yet another “business” card into his coat pocket. It’s chilly tonight, and he decided to walk the streets for the hell of it.

It was a weekday, meaning he won’t be bombarded by a crowd of drunkards.

His eyes wander the Vegas strip as he saunters through, offering a shy smile to a few passerbys. Living statues occasionally catch his eye and a pink Cadillac zooms past. He raises an eyebrow in amusement when a group of girls stick their heads out the window to tell him that he looks pretty.

And then he hears you.

“I stood alone, upon the platform in vain

The puerto ricans they were playing me salsa in the rain

With open doors and manual locks

In fast food parking lots

I headed west, I was a man on the move

New York had lied to me, I needed the truth.”

His feet carry him across the street. The front of the ARIA hotel glimmers brightly, enveloping you in blue light. He swears that you look like an angel. It matches your voice.

“Oh, I need somebody, needed someone I could trust

I don't gamble, but if I did I would bet on us”

He can feel your emotions project through your voice. It was absolutely breathtaking.

You were sad and lonely. He can feel it and he can empathize.

Despite the small audience that you’ve gathered, your eyes focus elsewhere, your mind lost to a world far away.

He listens in a daze, standing before you in front of the crowd. He maps out your face, remembering every little detail. It’s instinct by now. He’s had to memorize people just in case they came back to haunt him in the future. It’s different with you, however.

He takes his time.

His watch vibrates, breaking him out of his ogling. It was time to head back to his room for mission prep. “Fuck,” he murmurs to himself, disappointed that he can’t watch the rest of your performance.

He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a $5 bill, and tosses it into your guitar case. He can feel his heart skip as soon as you turn towards him. You nod in appreciation and give him the biggest smile as you strum and sing.

He shakily sighs and returns the kind expression.

He hopes to see you again.

It’s his luck that he finds you the next night at the same exact spot.

It may be apart of his imagination, but he swears that you light up with recognition as he approaches the crowd. He grins lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets to listen in on your singing.

It’s a bigger group tonight and he has to squeeze himself into the middle to see. You’re with a guy, who raps his part after you sing a chorus.

“Since you left, I've been holding onto a memory

Since you walked out that door, yeah

And you said I changed and you're so damn sick of me

You're not mine anymore, 2 3 4-”

The crowd bursts into cheers as the man next to you begins.

“Ayy, I still remember what you wore on the first night

Still remember how that black dress had your curves right

Still remember smokin' just to calm my nerves

'Til you had to leave and grabbed your purse, I grabbed first.”

Bucky can’t help himself but chuckle. He claps along when you gesture towards the crowd, pumping your fist in the air along with the beat. It’s absolutely adorable how much you’re into your performance.

When you reach the end, everyone (including Bucky) applauds enthusiastically.

He’s one of the last to leave, still standing awestruck by the mere sight of you.

“Hey, Pal. You’re gonna catch a fly with your mouth open like that,” you call out, gesturing towards your own lips.

He jumps a bit in shock, red creeping up his skin as he closes his mouth. “S-sorry, I just- You’re really good,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Your eyes grow bright with pride and joy. “Well, thank you! And thank you for coming back!”

“W-wait, you remember me from last night?” He feels stupid about the excitement in his voice. He’s never acted so flustered before.

“Of course I do! How could I forget such a handsome face?”

You bite back a giggle when you practically see his mind short-circuit. He’s a blushing mess as he looks anywhere but towards you.

“You- uh- geez.”

Fortunately, for him, his watch saves his ass. It rattles around his wrist, signaling that it’s time to depart yet again.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go.”

“It’s okay, me too.”

You turn and begin packing your bags but still feel his presence behind you. Normally, you’d be wary about lingering strangers, but this man didn’t seem like the rest of those sleazebags trying to get you into their beds.

“Something you need...uhh….?” You’re at a loss for words, looking up at him.

“Bucky,” he responds.

“Bucky.” You smile at the sound of it. It’s a funny name, you’d have to admit, but who are you to judge?

You offer him your own and he seems to relax quite a bit. Remembering why he was still standing around, he quickly fishes into his pocket and offers the money to you. “I wish I could give you more, but I left the rest at the hotel.”

When you cock an eyebrow, he begins to panic. “Thank you, but I don’t have any use for those,” you tease. He looks down in confusion and internally screams.

He’s accidentally pulled out a prostitution card. A lady with pasties on her breasts peeks out from the spaces between his fingers.

Oh my god, he’s going to die.

“Jesus- I’m so sorry! I thought I pulled out a ten!”

He tosses the card behind him and makes sure that he pulls out the right thing from his pocket. He drops his gaze as he tries to hand you the money. “I’m such a dumbass,” he grumbles to himself.

You let out a surprised laugh. You put your whole heart into it, genuinely amused at his antics. Accepting the money with a gracious smile, you shrug your shoulder. “See you around?”

“Tomorrow night?” he asks hopefully, stomping down the earlier sheepishness.

“Tomorrow night,” you confirm, patting his metal shoulder. He flinches for a second but then his muscles relax at your touch. “And you don’t have to give me so much, Bucky. A dollar is more than enough,” you assure.

For the next couple of weeks, Bucky walks the strip every night. And every night, he spots you in the same corner, entertaining a lovely crowd.

By this point, he’s completely enamored with you and he’s not sure why.

Clearly, you were just an ordinary street-performer, right?

Wrong.

You wear your heart on your sleeve every time you sing. He realizes that you choose specific songs that match how you were feeling or what you went through. It was like a secret code that only he noticed.

You never really cared what others thought about you. Some nights there was one audience member, other nights, there were about twenty. Either way, you still perform.

He wonders if you even do it for the money. At one point, he saw a homeless man stand in front of you, listening intently and clapping away. When you were finished, he apologized for not having any cash to give, but he wanted to thank her for making his day just a little brighter. As soon as you noticed the dirty backpack over his shoulders and the cardboard sign sticking out of it, you shake your head with a smile, telling him it’s more than alright. You thanked him for being there to listen and donated almost the entirety of what you earned that day.

That’s when Bucky knew that you were pure and beautiful on the inside and out.

When he rounds the corner on a Sunday night, you immediately wave at him mid-song, grinning widely. You don’t break your strumming, but you make sure to address him out loud despite the others around you. “Glad you could make it tonight,” you say.

It was meant to tease him. He’s seen you so often now.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he murmurs back.

You silently appreciate the crinkle of the skin near his eyes when he smiles and the dimples that come out of hiding beneath his tired expression.

“I heard there was someone but I know he don't deserve you

If you were mine I'd never let anyone hurt you, no, no

I wanna dry those tears, kiss those lips

It's all that I've been thinking about

'Cause a light came on when I heard that song and I want you to sing it again-”

Bucky’s breath hitches in his throat.

You’re making eye contact with him as you sing those words. Were you directing a message towards him or was this just for show?

He doesn’t even notice the crowd glancing between the both of you, holding back their ‘aaw’s and endearing laughter.

Clearly, there was something there.

“I swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me

Like it was a private show, but I know you never saw me

When the lights come on and I'm on my own

Will you be there to sing it again?

Could I be the one you talk about in all your stories?”

Bucky Barnes swore that music is nothing more than a distraction to the ears.

You’ve taught him the opposite.

It’s more than that.

Music is the food of love. It can break the soul just as much as it can fix it. He feels himself healing from you, even if your conversations were short and he barely knew you at all.

He feels your kindness seep into his skin to show him that the world isn’t bad at all. He just had to be open to learning how to be happy. It was worth the risk. Even the little things like a blue sky or your beautiful smile can lift him up.

Bucky Barnes feels like he’s in love with you.

“Can I be the one

Can I be the one

Oh, can I, can I be him?”

As you pack up, he’s standing beside you. “You were wonderful tonight,” he says. It comes out softer than usual. His warm gaze never falters.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You zip up your case and stand tall, hands on your hips patiently.

As soon as Bucky reaches into his pockets, you stop him with a hand in the air. “If you keep giving me tens or twenties, Buck, you’re gonna be a broke man. Unless, of course, you’re a lucky gambler.” He can’t help but chortle in response, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t want to tell you that he had his ass handed to him at poker two hours ago.

“But you deserve it, if not more,” he argues.

You rock back and forth on your heels in contemplation. “Tell you what,” you start.

“Since you insist on spending so much money on me, why don’t you treat me to coffee or something? Or is it technically me treating you?”

Coffee.

In his mind, it sounds like a date.

What a dream come true.

“You don’t want dinner or something instead?” He bites his bottom lip, trying not to be so nervous. It’s been awhile since he’s gone out with anyone.

“I’m scamming you. I’d like our first date to be cheap so next time I can bribe you into taking me to a Gordon Ramsey restaurant,” you joke, grinning wickedly.

Bucky stumbles over his words, clearly affected by the notion of a ‘next time.’

When his watch vibrates, he groans to himself. He forgot about his stupid mission. What was he supposed to tell you now?

“Duty calls,” you say, pointing to his wrist. “We can go on your day off.”

“How’d you-” he scowls in confusion.

“Bucky Barnes, the man with the coolest metal-arm in town. How could I not recognize you?”

When he stiffens at your mention of his arm, you gently place a hand on it. He holds his breath, only for you to pat it in reassurance. “You’ve been my niece's favorite hero since she was five. She used to pull me to the TV all the time just to see your face. I kind of fell in love with you.”

It’s your turn to blush. “I mean- that sounds so creepy, don’t take that the wrong way. It’s not like I was stalking you- Geez, I should’ve told you I knew earlier. You must think I’m a real dork!”

He purses his lips, trying his best not to snicker at this revelation.

“Nah, it makes me more confident in asking you out, now that I know you’re so in love with me.”

“Oh my god. You shut your face, lover-boy. I see you running downhill just to come find me every night. Tell me you’re not in love with me too.”

“I can’t. It’d be a lie if I told you I wasn’t.”

In front of the hotel, he finds you absolutely beautiful. You shyly tuck a strand behind your ear as you talk to him.

The city lights have nothing on you. Your bright eyes and toothy grin blows him away.

He carries your guitar case for you, offering to walk you back home before he heads out on his mission. He watches you skip and twirl around to talk to him. Occasionally, he pulls you to the side to avoid a collision between you and a passerby.

Your bubbly chit-chat takes some weight off of him.

This was his little piece of happiness. You’re his little Street Star.

You are a sign from the universe telling him:

Stay.

#Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #captain america #the winter soldier #the avengers #mcu #marvel #wolf writes #fluff #oneshot #writing #fanfic

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