#i just know lily was rolling in her grave

[labyrinthhofmymind]

i just remembered snape clutched lily’s dead body, literally HOURS after she was murdered, in the HOUSE she shared with her HUSBAND and CHILD, hugging and crying whilst he did so, and i’ve truly never hated a man more

[ellecdc]

Come Back, Be Here (part 4)

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 6.2k words

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, hurt/comfort, fluff, banter, Walburga Black, use of Y/N

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. Now, you're moving in to 12 Grimmauld Place.

The group watched as the row of townhomes groaned and stretched to expose 12 Grimmauld place in all her glory. Sirius was certain he could hear his mother and father rolling in their graves to know that he – their disinherited blood-traitor son – was the last Black and official heir once again to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. He grimaced at the title. 

“Two disgraced Black’s returning to the scene of the crime.” Ted Tonks joked, both Sirius and Andromeda gave him a look. 

“Feels like the beginning of a bad, racist joke.” James mused.

Sirius groaned in response. “What happens when three blood-traitors, three muggle-borns and one half-blood half-breed walk into a bar?” 

“Get drunk, I hope.” Lily muttered miserably. 

“Well, Sirius, welcome home.” Andromeda announced as she made her way up the stairs to the front door. Sirius pushed the door open and stepped inside a house he hadn’t stepped foot into since he was sixteen years old. He had been so sure at that time that he’d never return; he wished he had been right. 

The house was just as dark and gloomy as it had been when he left it, but it was now also covered in a thick layer of dust.

“Okay, please, for the love of all that is holy: Lily, Y/N, Remus, Ted: you are to touch nothing until Andromeda, James or I have checked it first.” Sirius said before pausing, “Scratch that. Touch nothing until Andromeda or I have checked it – okay?”

This earned him an indignant ‘hey!’ from James and a quick agreement from everyone else. 

“YOU DISGRACEFUL, WRETCHED BOY!” Sirius’s face drained of all colour at the all-too-familiar sound of his mother’s screeching.

“That old hag is supposed to be dead!” He shouted as he and Andromeda ran up the stairs following the sound of his foul-mouthed mother.

“HOW DARE YOU STEP FOOT INTO THIS MOST NOBLE AND ANCIENT HOUSE, YOU FLITHY BLOOD TRAITOR!” the screeching continued.

The source of the chaos came from none other than an awful magical portrait of the very late Walburga Black, Sirius’ mother and Andromeda’s aunt.

“Oh, thank Godric, she is dead.” Sirius sighed in relief, though he wasn’t sure what he was going to do about the very unwelcome company haunting this house.

“Maybe we can remove it?” Andromeda mused as she tried to pull the portrait from the wall. 

“GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF ME; SULLYING YOURSELF WITH THE LIKES OF MUDBLOODS YOU TRAITOROUS WHORE.”

“Charming as always, Aunt Walburga.” She muttered when her pulling was for naught. 

Sirius attempted a silencio which seemed to work for at least a little as Walburga’s face contorted with rage and she continued spewing what Sirius could only assume was foul hatred for all things not Voldemort related. 

“Okay so that will last like, not long enough at all. Merlin, I wish we could just burn this place down with her in it.” He muttered as they made their way back downstairs. Ted and James were cooing over a crying Harry who must have been upset at the screeching of the house’s previous occupant, while Remus and Lily muttered quietly to each other. You leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, appearing bored for all intents and purposes, but Sirius could tell you were straining your neck to peer into the rooms you could see from your post. 

“Okay, semi-false alarm. Walburga is indeed still dead.” Sirius stated which was met with a cheer from James causing Harry to clap in comradery.  

“However, she has cursed us with a magical portrait of herself stuck on the wall with a permanent sticking charm.” He finished, causing James to groan and Harry to start crying again. 

“Okay, so, ignoring the unpleasant company for now, where do we start?” Lily interrupted. 

“First of all, Red, as I said you will not be starting anywhere.” Sirius rallied. 

“Sirius, this place is huge, and we need to clear a space for six of us to sleep tonight.” She countered, but the argument was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. 

Everyone exchanged nervous glances. “Literally, no one should know we’re here.” James muttered. 

“It could be Moody?” Remus offered nervously. 

“Should Kreacher answer the door, Master.” A crotchety old voice sneered from behind him, causing Sirius to yelp and jump what felt like a foot in the air. 

“Merlin’s tits.” James muttered as Harry started shrieking again. 

“Godric, I’ve never seen you not hanging off my mother’s bosom; I sort of hoped you had died with her.” He muttered, rubbing his chest trying to convince his heart to return to a normal pace.

“Sirius.” You scolded from your place against the wall. 

“Kreacher lives to serve the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, even if it’s occupants are filthy blood-traitors and their mud-bloods.” The ancient house-elf muttered. 

“New management, new rule Kreacher, no more mud-blood talk.” Sirius barked.

“Yes, Master.” The elf sneered before heading toward the door. Sirius quickly pulled you and Lily, who was now holding a sniffling Harry, behind him much to the chagrin of the two women. 

“Master, the wizard tells Kreacher that he’s a curse breaker sent by a Moody.” The elf mumbles over his shoulder. 

Sirius relinquished his hold on the two witches and allowed the man entry. 

Sirius reiterated to the curse breaker that Lily, Remus, you, and Ted were not to touch anything in any room until the curse breaker, Sirius or Andromeda cleared it first. The curse breaker showed James, Andromeda, and Sirius a few detection spells and a few simple reversal charms before they set off to different levels of the house; Sirius and Andromeda decided to focus on the bedrooms and bathrooms whilst the curse break started in the shared living spaces on the first floor, and James went to the kitchen with Kreacher. 

Sirius felt like he was making decent progress. He and Andromeda had cleared out three bedrooms and two bathrooms between the second and third floors, and he had worked up a decent sweat. He had two boxes of dark artifacts to be either destroyed, uncursed or donated. The screeching had started back up in earnest again when the silencio wore off an hour after casting. 

“You miserable hag.” Sirius muttered as he marched over to his mother’s portrait to recast the spell. Once the ringing in his ears stopped, he heard another shriek and a bang.

“Y/N!” Lily could be heard shouting, and Sirius bolted down the stairs. He arrived in the parlour at the same time as Remus and James. 

“What happened?” Remus demanded. 

“She touched a book!” Lily tattled. 

“I’m fine.” You muttered as you sat up and cradled your right wrist. 

Sirius sighed, fear melting into frustration which quickly melted into fondness. “You sneaky little witch.” He muttered as he moved to crouch beside you. “Let me see.”

“No.” You pouted. 

“Y/N.” 

“No. I’m fine.” 

“Let me see your hand.”

“Bugger off.” 

“You minx.” 

Sirius sat there biting his cheek trying to suppress a grin at the sight of you sitting petulantly feeling embarrassed being caught having done something naughty. 

“What did I say?” Sirius scolded.

You muttered something under your breath.

“What was that?” He smirked, leaning his ear closer to you for dramatic effect. 

“Not to touch anything.”

“Uh huh. And what did you do?” 

“I touched something.” 

Sirius was full on beaming at you now. 

“Thought so, let me see.” 

You let out an indignant huff and held your wrist out to Sirius, who despite his crassness, took it so unbelievably gently in his own hands. It appeared that you had touched something that was cursed with a knock-back jinx, which twisted your wrist violently on impact. It could have been worse, small mercies. 

“Dollface, I could have gotten you a book if you were bored.” Sirius commented as he reduced the swelling with a quick flick of his wand and placed a glacius charm to help with any more inflammation. 

“Don’t tease me.” You whispered miserably, and Sirius looked up to see that your eyes were glassy. 

“Are the tears because you’re hurt, because you’re scared, or because you’re embarrassed?” Sirius whispered back. Your eyes met his and a single tear fell. He lifted his hand which was met with a mild flinch before he gently wiped it away with his thumb. 

“I’m not teasing, love. And you don’t have to be embarrassed; if it hadn’t been you, it would have been Moony.” Which was met with an indignant ‘Oi!’ from the werewolf who had moved down the hall in an attempt to give them privacy. “You also don’t have to be scared. Alright?”

You held his gaze before nodding with a sniff. He massaged your wrist and hand gently, recasting a glacius over the injury. 

“Did I teach you this?” You asked quietly, causing Sirius’ head to shoot up from its lowered position.

“Do you remember?” He asked unbelievingly. 

You moved your head back-and-forth as if to say so-so. “I remember...uhm-”

He waited with bated breath watching your face as you organized your thoughts.

“Bludgers. The smell of cigarettes and broom wax. And a broken wrist.” 

Sirius was sure he heard angels singing. Her first memory is resurfacing. And it’s when I broke my wrist playing quidditch at Potter manor.

“It was you, wasn’t it? Who broke their wrist?” You clarified. 

Sirius nodded dumbly. “Yes.” He croaked. 

“I think you got hurt often.”

Sirius chuckled, “Yes, I certainly did.” 

“That must have been exciting.” You mused. 

“I’m sure I was exhausting.” He countered as he continued massaging your arm. He could probably stop now, but he really didn’t want to. 

“Please; you got hurt because you were playing quidditch, I got hurt because I touched a book after I was specifically told not to touch anything.” 

Sirius barked a laugh. “Oh, come now. It’s my fault really; I should have known better than to try to tell you what to do.” 

You both sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments; Sirius continuing to work out tension in your arm. 

“Which book was it?” He asked you finally. He seemed to catch you off guard, as you looked at him inquisitively. “Which book were you trying to read?”

You blushed but stood up and pointed to the offending book. Secrets of the Darkest Art. 

“All this fuss over a book, babe?” he smirked at you as your blush intensified. He cast a quick counter curse over it like the curse breaker taught him and handed you the book. 

“Now please, for the love of Merlin, don’t touch anything else?” He asked with a smile which was met with a shy smile of your own.

“Thanks, Siri.” You mumbled. His heart soared at your use of his old nickname, and before he even realized what he was doing, he bent down and placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Read up, my little swot. I think I heard Kreacher muttering about making dinner. Hopefully it’s not poisoned.” He said as he exited the room. 

Turns out, dinner was not poisoned, and it was actually quite good. They all thanked Kreacher even though the elf acted as if the simple act of feeding them would be the thing to damn him straight to hell. The Tonks’ were quite eager to leave after the fourth rousing of Walburga and left before the dinner was served. Andromeda and Sirius had managed to de-dark-art-ify all the bedrooms on the second and third floor plus the bathrooms. They opted to leave his parents room, and his and Regulus’ rooms untouched. As much as they teased poor James, he accomplished quite a lot in the kitchen and main living room, while the curse breaker focused on the hallways and various parlour rooms on the main floor. Lily mentioned that she wouldn’t mind brightening the place up if Sirius was open to some redecorating – to which he responded with a quick “If it were up to me, Red, this place would be in flames by now”, so she advised she’d make some plans tomorrow. You and Remus fussed over Harry to save Kreacher from anymore toddler ear yanks, but if the house-elf was grateful for the interference, he didn’t show it. A message arrived stating that the cottage in Godric’s Hollow appeared to be secure; Lily looked like she wanted to cry at the prospect of being reunited with her things. 

Remus said goodbye to everyone after dinner, stating he couldn’t leave the flat unattended since Sirius appears to be willing to neglect it for the next foreseeable future, which was met with a two-finger salute from Sirius and boos from James which were then chorused by Harry. 

“It’s meant to be a slumber party, Moony. Just like the old days.” James whined, which sucked the air out of the room; it suddenly became very obvious to Sirius, James, Lily, and Remus that they had been betrayed by their closest friend, who was possibly responsible for the death of some of their other friends. 

“Pads, we can’t keep paying for a flat that no one is using.” Remus argued.

“Uhm, I can, and I will, thank you very much. What’s the point of inheriting all of my family’s dirty money if I can’t waste it on whatever I want?” 

Remus sighed, “Fine. I’m going home tonight, though. I can’t leave the cat and the plants.”

“You’re such a good daddy.” Lily smirked from the end of the table. 

“Shush, you.” Remus said as he ruffled her hair before smoothing it out and kissing the top of her head. He moved to Harry and placed a kiss there too, before James stuck his head up as if he, too, was waiting for a kiss. Remus rolled his eyes before pecking both James and Sirius on the head and pausing at you. 

“What? No kiss for me, Moony?” You smirked and teasingly batted your eyelashes at him. Remus laughed and placed a kiss on your head before waving and promising everyone he’d be back tomorrow, cat and plants in tow. 

Much to Kreacher’s chagrin, Sirius and James insisted on cleaning up the kitchen themselves which got a “filthy blood-traitor’s” being cursed at them. He then announced he’d be going to the house in Godric’s Hollow to retrieve their belongings – surprising James and Sirius into silence. 

Lily and James took the farthest room on the second floor, it was the largest which left plenty of room for a crib for Harry, and it had their own washroom. Sirius held the bags containing your things and watched as you inspected the other rooms, allowing you to choose next.

“Which room do you suppose Remus would like?” You asked him.

“Vix, it doesn’t matter. You choose.”

“If he has plants, maybe this room? It would get nice light in the evenings; I don’t think he’d appreciate the morning light.” You mused as if he hadn’t said anything at all. 

Sirius couldn’t even celebrate the fact that you seemed to correctly remember something about Remus before he nagged you. “Y/N, for the love of Merlin, pick a room.” 

“Well, which room are you taking?”

Sirius paused. “What?”

“Which room will you take?” 

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck. “I have my old room upstairs. I was just going to stay there.” 

You paused. “You aren’t going to stay down here? With us?” The ‘with me?’ was unspoken but Sirius heard it anyway. 

“Oh, right. No, of course. Erm.” He looked at the three rooms. It appeared you had already decided the middle room was Remus’ – what with the sunlight for the cat or the plants or the sleeping or what-not. There were two other rooms kiddie-corner to each other. The one at the end of the hall was the largest of the two, and had windows on two walls, versus just the one wall containing windows in the other room. 

“I think I’ll take this one.” He said, motioning to the smaller room. It was directly across the hall from the washroom, which was beside the last room – your room – which meant he would be close by. 

“Okay.” You nodded, looking into the room you essentially forced Sirius into picking for you. “I’ll take this one then.” You smiled at him as if you chose it for yourself.

“Good choice, gorgeous.” He said as he placed your bags on the four-poster bed in the middle of the room. “Can’t wait to see what Lil’s comes up with for this place – all the Slytherin green needs to go.” 

You hummed and looked around the dark room. “I don’t know, the snakes and skulls are really warm and inviting, Sirius. Don’t fix what ain’t broken.” You finished the sentence in a poorly done southern American accent.

The two of you quipped back and forth about the décor in various accents as you unpacked your bags. Sirius found the scene to unbelievably domestic and lovely, basking in the effervescent glow that was your company until you both retired for bed.

Sirius pushed the door open as quietly as he could and stole a glance at you; your breathing was even as you slept curled up in the fetal position on the bed where he’d left you several hours ago. 

With a sigh, Sirius made his way down the stairs to the large parlour room – not coincidentally the one he knew had his late father’s liquor stored in an antique bar cart. He knew he shouldn’t – James and Lily fussed over him for months after you went missing, watching him spiral into himself as he tried to drink away his issues. He had to work hard not to end up completely dependent on alcohol – and it still wasn’t enough for him to stay in his supervisor’s good graces. 

“You’re a good Auror, Sirius, and a mighty strong wizard – but this is getting out of control, and I cannot allow you to continue putting the rest of my staff at risk.” Moody had told him, and he was placed on a medical leave until James could confirm to Moody that he had gone a full four weeks without a drink. 

Sirius sat with a crystal glass of fire whiskey and cast a quick incendio to light the fireplace. I feel like the ghost of my father he thought darkly. The Black’s were all basically carbon copies of each other – the only difference between the two Black sons and Walburga was that they had their father’s silver eyes. If Kreacher walked in now, he’d probably think he was looking at a down-and-out younger Orion Black, if Orion Black ever wore checkered pyjama pants and a band tee. 

The fire whiskey was leaving a comfortable warmth in his stomach and esophagus as he leaned his head back against the chair. He felt so incredibly guilty. 

Guilty for trusting Peter. Guilty for ever thinking the spy could be anyone but him. Guilty for believing you to be dead all of this time – when he could have been looking for you, should have been looking for you. Guilty to shouting your business in front of your friends. Guilty for ever introducing Peter to you. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

His musings were interrupted by a gentle knock on the parlour room doorframe. His eyes shot open, and he pointed his wand toward the disturbance, only to find the silhouette of you donned in pyjama shorts and a pullover jumper. He sighed in relief and unceremoniously tossed his wand back onto the side table. 

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” You offered quietly. 

“No worries, love. I think everyone’s a touch jumpy these days.” He muttered, taking another sip from his glass. 

You surveyed him from the door for a few moments before moving to sit in the matching wingback chair beside him, separated by only a small table. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” You asked.

Sirius hummed, “Not well. Not for the last five months. Maybe longer.”

You nodded in agreement as you watched the flames dance in the fireplace. You hadn’t seen Sirius like this – not since you’ve been back, at least – but something about this mood of his felt familiar to you.

“Are you alright?” 

Sirius laughed humourlessly. “The captive of an evil terrorist organization is asking me if I am okay because I happened to have my feelings hurt?” 

He looked over at you, expecting to find signs of frustration or annoyance at his flippancy and obvious deflection. But - like he should have expected - all he saw was patience and understanding, and it broke him. 

He hiccupped loudly and put his elbows on his knees, holding his face in his hands. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered miserably. 

“What is it you’re apologizing for?” You asked quietly. 

“For losing you. For allowing it to happen. For introducing you to Pete. For trusting him with any of you. For believing you were dead. For feeling at all sorry for myself because I simply missed you whilst you were out there fighting for your fucking life. For telling you any of this.” He moaned.

You chuckled softly. “You do realize you’re apologizing on behalf of a lot of other people right now, right?” 

Sirius raised his head to look at you.

“Don’t let them off the hook that easily.” You added seriously.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re apologizing for the way Peter treated me as if it was your fault – by doing so, you’re relieving him of an awful lot of responsibility.” You stated simply. Sirius watched the flames dance in your eyes as you watched the fire. 

“You believed me to be dead, and you mourned me – that’s not a punishable offence, Sirius. In fact, I think I’d likely be miffed if you hadn’t seemed affected at all.”

Sirius smirked at that.

“And finally, you don’t need to apologize for telling me things when I was the one who asked you to.” 

Sirius shook his head. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.” He muttered. 

“You can do that tomorrow.” You stated plainly with a shrug. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” 

You sat in companionable silence as you both watched the fire. It wasn’t often Sirius found himself to be comfortable with silence and empty moments. Silence growing up always meant room for scrutiny – or it was due to his parents ignoring him to teach him a lesson. But it had always been so, incredibly refreshing with you. He always felt safe with you when neither of you felt the need to say anything at all, and just exist together in silence. 

“At the meeting, you asked me if we were just friends before.” Sirius asked quietly. He continued when you hummed in acknowledgement. “Is that because you remembered?”

You considered his question for a moment. “Perhaps a bit. I don’t necessarily remember the moments or conversations, but I think a part of me remembers the feelings.” 

Sirius hummed. “And the other bit?” He prodded as he turned to look at you. You smirked in response.

“Well, you’re not exactly subtle, love.” You winked at him. 

Sirius barked a laugh. “No, I don’t think subtlety is a trait I possess.” He agreed. 

“Lucky me.” 

He stared at you for a long while.

“I don’t know how good at it I was.” He admitted. 

“At what?”

“At loving you.”

You both let that hang in the air as you held each other’s gaze. 

“But it was the best thing about me – getting to love you; being loved by you.” He added. 

“That’s what woke me up.” 

Sirius furrowed his brows. “Hm?” 

You turned your gaze back to the fire. 

“In my dream – or I suppose it was a memory. You and I were fighting; I accused you of only loving yourself. You laughed before you said ‘Actually, Princess, I hate myself. The only person worth love here is you.’”. 

Sirius remembered that fight. It was after you had finally started talking to him again after the Worst Day of His Life™. You both decided to hash out exactly what happened that night with the stupid eyelash batting Hufflepuff that ended with you sleeping in Lily and Remus’ embrace after they had to clean up his mess. 

(The boys dormitory, Hogwarts)

“It doesn’t matter, Sirius. What happened, happened, and it’s in the past.”

“It does matter though, because it hurt you.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, it doesn’t matter; I’m over it and it clearly meant nothing to you.” 

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Decide what means something to me.” 

“I didn’t, Sirius. You did. That night – you decided what I meant to you, which apparently wasn't much. It’s fine, you’re allowed to sleep with whoever you want. The relationship clearly meant more to me than it did to you – that was my mistake.” 

“You weren’t mistaken!” 

“Then why wasn’t it me!?” You finally shouted at him, tears begging to fall from your lower lash line. 

Sirius didn’t have an answer for that. You scoffed at his lack of response and wiped angrily at your face. 

“I don’t know why we’re even doing this.” 

“Because it’s important.”

“It’s not important. It’s history. I’m over it.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say you’re over it.” The ‘over me’ in Sirius’ plea was left unsaid.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you, Sirius.”

“I just want things to go back to the way they were before. What can I do to fix this?” 

“There’s nothing to fix, Sirius.”

“Bullshit.” 

You stayed quiet.

“So, what? Am I not worth it then? Am I not worth fighting for?” He accused. Your eyes narrowed at him.

“Sirius, that’s not fair.”

“You’re not giving me anything else to go off here!” 

“What about me!?” You shouted. “I need to look after myself for a change, Sirius. Because what all of this has taught me is that the only person you’re truly able to love is yourself.”

Sirius couldn’t help himself. He began to laugh; a real, loud belly laugh that began to hurt his sides. 

“What the fuck is so funny?” 

“You’re so far from the mark you can’t even see it anymore.” He laughed as he collected himself. “You couldn’t be more wrong. In fact, Princess, I hate myself. The only person worth love here is you.”

(present)

Sirius sighed. “Why couldn’t your first memory of me be me doing something awesome; like the time I caught you when you fell off your broom or something.” 

You laughed. “I had bruises from your death grip after that fall for weeks. And you were so annoying – you would hardly let me walk down the hallway without your constant supervision.” 

You both seemed startled at your recounting the memory, but neither commented on it.

“Well excuse me, love. What makes you think I should trust you on the moving staircases with your nose shoved into a book if you couldn’t even handle a simple flight session on a school broom a mere twenty feet off the ground, 

“Oh please, I didn’t have my nose shoved into a book.”

“You did too.” 

“And I was definitely at least fifty feet off the ground – probably more.”

“Nope, wrong again.”

“Stop gaslighting me.”

“Must be exhausting being wrong all the time.” 

“You son of a bitch.” 

The two of you laughed; the familiarity of the banter and joking felt like a warm hug for you both. You fell into a companionable silence until the crackling of the fire was interrupted by a yawn you tried unsuccessfully to suppress. 

“Come on, love. Let’s get you back to bed.” Sirius said as he stood, standing in front of you and offering you his hand. 

You jokingly whined but allowed yourself to be pulled up by the black-haired man. 

“You look like a hockey player” You blurted as you walked hand-in-hand up the stairs. 

“Pardon me?” Sirius asked incredulously. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, and he relished in the feeling. “The hair cut – it’s like a hockey player’s; they call it a ‘flow’.” 

“A flow?” He smirked. 

“Mhm.” 

“Do you like it?” He asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“Love it.” You offered immediately as if it was the most obvious answer. 

You paused at your respective bedroom doors, neither seemingly wanting to part ways. Well, Sirius knew he didn’t, and he assumed the tightening of your hold on his hand meant that you felt the same. 

He wanted to hold you. He wanted to wrap you up in bed and stay there with you until the world ended. He wanted your hands to be fused together so that he’d never have to be without you by his side ever again. But he also didn’t want to push you; this was your call – he would let you choose; always. 

“I don’t want to be alone.” You admitted quietly, almost as if you were embarrassed by the admission. 

Sirius gave your hand three quick squeezes – a code the two of you had made when you realized that Sirius sometimes struggled to express his feelings verbally. 

“Three taps or squeezes means ‘I love you.’” You had said to him simply.

“Babe, every breath I take means ‘I love you.’” He countered before placing a searing kiss to your lips. 

“Funny, that. Neither do I.” He replied.

“Stay with me?” You asked him, eyes shyly meeting his.

“I’d love nothing more.” He said, as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Come on, love. Let’s try to get some sleep.” 

James had tossed and turned all night, waking up in cold sweats. He had been eager each time to change Harry’s diaper or do a feeding, bouncing him a little longer than strictly necessary just to avoid having to be alone with his own thoughts again. But by the third time he woke Lily up in a panic, she’d kicked him out of the room.

“Potter, I love you, but if you don’t fuck off right now, I’m going to live the rest of my life as a widow.” And with that, he was banished from their bedroom. 

He padded his way down the hallway, poking his head into the other doors. The room in the middle of the hallways was vacant; probably Moony’s he mused. The next room was also empty, but the sheets were disturbed as if someone had been sleeping in here, but also couldn’t sleep. 

He poked his head into the last room and spotted two figures curled up in the bed, holding onto each other as if one of them could float away at any moment. 

There was a voice in James’ head that told him he should leave them; they were likely having just as hard a time sleeping as he was. Also, it’d be weird to join them. However, there was a louder voice in James’ head that was screaming to climb into bed with them; so that’s the one he listened to. James had never been very good with boundaries. 

He crawled onto the other side of Sirius and slid under the covers. 

“Are you serious right now?” He heard his mate mutter groggily. 

James smirked as he curled up behind him. “No, you’re Sirius.” 

Sirius groaned. “Five points from Gryffindor for the terrible joke that only I’m allowed to make, and another five points for touching me with your cold ass feet.” But he didn’t tell James to leave, so he took that as a win.

“How’s she?” He asked quietly. 

“So good, considering.” Sirius answered.

“I can’t believe him...” James started quietly, but he needn’t finish; they both knew who he was talking about.

Sirius took a deep breath. “I feel, guilty. Bad. Y/N says I shouldn’t.”

“Of course she would, she’s perfect.” James offered easily. 

Sirius smiled into the top of your sleeping head. “She is.” He agreed.

“I can’t believe she survived, all that time.”

The two men sat, marvelling at your perseverance. “I’m dying to know who her allies were.”

Sirius hummed. “Me too. I don’t know how to feel about them yet.”

James nodded. “That’s okay, I don’t much know how to feel about a lot of things.”

Sirius snorted and then tensed, worried about waking you, but your breath remained even. 

“Do you blame me?”

Sirius eyes flew open at that.

“Pardon?”

James sighed before repeating himself. “Do you blame me, for Pete?”

“What about him.”

“Well, I’ve been wondering, would you and Remus ever had made friends with him had I not dragged him along with us?”

Sirius laughed. “Okay, if it were left up to Remus, no one would have ever talked to him ever and he would’ve made exactly zero friends, so I don’t think you’re asking the right questions.”

“Pads...”

“No. Of course not.” Sirius stated. James remained quiet and tense behind him. 

“I think Peter made a choice. He made a lot of choices, but he made a choice.” He said as he thought of your earlier words. Don’t let him off the hook that easily. “He has a lot to atone for.”

He could feel James nod and they sat in silence for some time, watching the lights move from the street below them.

Sirius was pretty well asleep when James spoke up again. 

“So, are you guys like, back together?”

Sirius scrunched his face. “What in the hells are you talking about?”

“You and Vix? Does this mean mom and dad are back together again?” 

“James, she doesn’t remember me.”

“Well that just can’t be true.” James argued.

“Why’s that?”

“No one who doesn’t know you would let you sleep in their bed, Pads. You look like a bad idea.”

Sirius groaned. “She remembers some things.”

“Nice! Anything about me?” James asked excitedly. 

“Yes.” You muttered sleepily. “I remember that you’re unbearably annoying.” 

Sirius beamed and pressed a kiss to your hair. 

Lily began to redecorate, though she muttered unhappily the entire time about not being able to run to the shops. Every wall was painted white, causing each space to look far brighter and bigger than it had before. James took down every framed piece of art and gave it to Harry and Sirius to paint over – what were once paintings full of dark objects and pureblood legacy were now Gryffindor logos, the Hogwarts castle, a golden snitch, owls, self-portraits, or, in Harry’s case, a big truck. (If you close your eyes, you can absolutely see it). 

Sirius insisted the house was still chock full of “bad vibes”, but everyone else already felt less suppressed. 

Your memories were slowly returning to you, and much to everyone’s chagrin and to his absolute delight, Remus seemed to be the first of your friends you completely unravelled. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” James cried.

“I’ve never been so offended in my life.” Sirius muttered.

Lily refused to speak on the matter...but she also (playfully) refused to speak a word to you at all.

“I mean, really, what’s Moons got that I don’t?” Sirius whined as he watched the golden coloured orb on your scan get accessed by the travelling lights without incident. 

“Class, obviously.” Remus claimed haughtily.

“Oh, I’ll show you class.” Sirius barked before launching himself at Remus who was sitting in an armchair with a book in his hand. 

The two boys men struggled with each other, Remus never leaving the armchair nor dropping his book, before Sirius began whining.

“Say it.” Remus said with a smirk.

“Moony!”

“Say it.”

“Uncle! Uncle!” Sirius cried and Remus released his hold on his arm. 

“Real classy boys.” Lily said with a roll of her eyes. 

It had been about a week since Vix had been home and it was about a week until the next full, so Remus could not figure out why he felt so itchy. 

“Maybe you’ve got fleas.” James offered as he shoved roast potatoes in his mouth.

“I don’t have fleas, you sod.” Remus muttered.

“No, that’s usually a Padfoot problem.” Lily chortled

Sirius elicited a dramatic gasp and held his hand to his chest.

“I have never once in my life had flea’s you hag.”

“Don’t call my wife a hag!”

“Then tell her not to act like one!”

“Can we not do this at the dinner table?” You moaned with a roll of your eyes. Both men stopped the antics and looked down at their plates, shame faced. 

“Sorry mum.” They chorused. 

You smirked and looked over to Remus, who still looked unsettled. “It’s not usual for you to get like this, this far from the moon.” You commented.

“No.” Remus muttered miserably. “I don’t know, something just feels off.” 

“Our world has been flipped upside down multiple times this week. I think it will take some time for us to get our bearings again.” Lily admitted.

The adults nodded in agreement; Harry shook his head violently. 

“No? You don’t think so Haz?” James asked his son.

“No!” Harry squealed happily, lifting a handful of crushed roast potatoes in his hand.

“Don’t mind him. That’s his favourite word right now.” Lily explained. 

“Is miss finished?” Kreacher’s voice appeared beside you, causing you to jump in your seat.

“Oh!” You breathed, holding a hand to your chest. “Uhm, yes. Kreacher, thank you.”

The house-elf grunted and took your plate to the sink, before returning and pulling your chair out for you. James and Sirius shared a look at the odd behaviour.

“What are you doing, Kreacher?” Sirius asked.

You looked just as confused as Kreacher helped you stand.

“Kreacher has been asked to retrieve the mudblood.” He said plainly, and with a snap of his fingers, the two of you were gone. 

Continue to part five here.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 22 - Grief/Mourning

@wolfstarmicrofic July 22, word count 506

CW - dead animal, burial,

Sirius came into their dorm room sobbing his eyes out.

“Moony, Prongs, something terrible’s happened!” His face was red and blotchy. Remus had never seen him so upset. He was cradling something furry in his hand. It took Remus a second to figure out what it was. It was a brown rat. 

“Lily’s cat was chasing him. I tried to rescue him but-but-but, I was too late,” Sirius wailed. 

“Oh, shit!” James gasped from across the room. 

“What are you on about, Sirius?” Remus questioned him, not quite understanding why Sirius was so upset. 

“It’s Wormtail!” He cried, holding up the limp rat. He sobbed harder, letting James hold him and cry alongside him. Remus bit his tongue to keep the sarcastic comments contained. 

“He was the most amazing friend,” James stated sadly. “He was always there when you needed to talk and, while he was small, when he transformed, I will never forget the time he snuck up behind Mrs Norris and bit her tail so we could get away before Filch caught us.”

“I-I-I remember how sweet he was when Moony and I started going out, and he bought us all that chocolate and butterbeer. I don’t even know how he carried it all. He was the best of us!” Remus sighed through his nose and resisted a facepalm. 

Just then, Peter walked in, saving Remus from having to explain that if the rat had been Peter it would have transformed back when Clawd got hold of him.

“Why are they crying?” Peter asked, eyeing the rat in Sirius’s hands. 

“They think that’s you,” Remus explained, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh Peter,” James patted the poor lifeless rat. 

“Guys, I’m right here,” Peter groaned.

“I can still hear his voice!” Sirius leaned into James’s chest. 

“Wait, me too,” James said, confused. 

“Idiots,” Peter tutted. 

Sirius and James spun around. 

“Peter?” They said together. “PETER!” The rat fell from Sirius's hand, and they jumped on Peter. 

“Hey, get off, you nutters!” Peter yelped as they squashed him onto Remus's bed. Remus stooped and picked up the rat Sirius had dropped. 

“Well, I think after all that this little guy deserves a proper burial,” Remus declared and grabbed Sirius’s arm, hauling him off Peter. “Come on Prongs, Wormtail, this requires all of us. 

They dug a little hole in front of the whomping willow and laid the rat to rest. “You picked the wrong dorm little rat. I’m sorry your life was cut short, and I guess we'll never know why you were all the way up at the top of Gryffindor Tower. Rest in peace little buddy.” Remus used his wand to fill in the grave, and they all stood quietly and stared at it.

“Glad it wasn’t you Wormy,” Sirius said, clapping Peter on the back.

“Er, thanks,” Peter huffed out a laugh. Remus burst out laughing, which set them all off. 

“Merlin, I love you,” Remus kissed the top of Sirius’s head, and they walked back up to the castle to relax before dinner. 

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic September 14 - prompt 14: House-Elf [word count 719]

They were in the Sirius and Remus’s living room, right after Flooing back after a meeting with the Order. James was pacing back and forth and Sirius was nodding gravely even if James wasn’t saying anything. Remus raised an eyebrow at Lily, sitting across from him, and she rolled her eyes.

“James, please stop, you’re giving me a headache,” she said.

“But you heard them, Lils,” James stopped in front of the fireplace. “We’re just to what? Sit around while other people risk their lives for our world?”

“We just joined the Order, and it’s been only four months since we graduated from Hogwarts,” Remus sighed. “It makes sense they wouldn’t want to throw us right in the middle of the war immediately.”

“Oh, so we’re to let ‘the adults’ do the job again? Because that’s worked so well so far,” Sirius scoffed.

“Exactly,” James nodded. “Everyone thinks we’d just be reckless and get ourselves killed but we’d be an asset. Come on, modesty aside, we’re the most brilliant minds of our generation. We could win this if we all work together!”

“Speaking of together, why is it only the four of us here?” Sirius asked. “Where are the others?”

“Mary had a shift at St Mungo’s,” Remus said. “Marlene and Dorcas said there was no war that could stop them from celebrating their anniversary and Peter had to check on his mother who’s been ill.”

“Let it be known I don’t approve the way you three convinced him to join the Order,” Lily frowned. “Peter looks terrified all the time lately, he barely said goodbye before going today.”

“Peter always looks terrified, you get used to it,” Sirius rolled his eyes.

“We didn’t force him to do anything,” James finally sat by Lily’s side, looking outraged. “We just talked about it and he accepted.”

“You know he would jump into the Black Lake if you happened to ask him, James,” Lily took her fiancé’s hand in hers. “You’re charming like that.”

Remus looked away from James beaming and immediately leaning over to kiss Lily to thread his hand in Sirius’s.

“Relax,” he said. “The war won’t end by the time Dumbledore decides we’re ready to help, unfortunately. Besides, I’m sure there are other things we could do.”

“Like what?” Sirius grumbled.

Before Remus could think about it, a loud crack echoed in the room and a house-elf appeared right in the middle of the carpet. James, Lily and him almost jumped on their seats, but Sirius only raised a bored eyebrow as the creature turned around frantically, his hands clasped in front of him until he stopped, staring at Sirius.

“Master Sirius! Master Sirius, Kreacher finally found you!”

“What is it, Kreacher?” Sirius snapped. “Did Mother finally die?”

“Mistress is very well,” the house-elf looked outraged for a second then his expression shifted. “Please, Master Sirius, Kreacher needs your help.”

“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen,” Sirius got up. “Get out of my house.”

Remus could see the house-elf almost immediately obey the order, then his hands clasped even harder on whatever he was holding.

“Please, Master Sirius,” he repeated, evidently fighting the instinct to obey Sirius. “It’s Master Regulus.”

“What about my idiot brother, Kreacher?”

“Please, Master Sirius, Master Regulus is in danger. Master Regulus is dying.”

Remus saw Sirius stiffen. Despite all the bad blood between them, he knew the only regret in Sirius’s life was never getting to save his brother from their parents.

“What do you mean dying?”

“Master Regulus went on a secret mission, but he’s dying, and he ordered Kreacher to leave with this and destroy it,” the house-elf opened his hands to reveal a heavy locket. “But Kreacher can’t leave Master Regulus dying, so he came here.”

There was a moment of silence, Sirius getting paler and paler, James and Lily looking alternatively at him then at the locket. Remus got up and took Sirius’s hand.

“I don’t care he’s on the wrong side,” Sirius whispered. “I can’t leave him dying, not again.”

“I know,” Remus nodded. “I’m coming with you.”

“We’re coming too,” Lily and James chorused, getting up.

Sirius nodded and looked at Kreacher.

“Take us to Regulus. That’s an order.”

“Yes, Master Sirius, thank you Master Sirius,” the house-elf answered.

With another loud crack the living room was empty.

[skyfallslayer]

A Stitch In Time || Prologue

-Bucky Barnes x Daughter!Reader-

Series Masterlist

° Series Summary: A Time Heist mission goes wrong, and some of the Avengers end up in the 1950s. Desperately clinging to their lives, they wind up in a place subconsciously. And unfortunately for Steve, and especially to Bucky, they find themselves face to face with someone they wish not to see.

° Chapter Summary: Worried about how his mission may go, Bucky visits a ‘touchy’ place, and recalls the short life he had with you.

° Date: 7/20

° Rating: Teen

° Word Count: 4,569

° Warning: Talks about death/dying; Reference to Suicide; Guilt; Child Abandonment; Talks of Fertility Issues; Alcohol; Allusions to Depression. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

° A/N: The only excuse I have for taking so long to get this out is because I had an expected mental health break. One that was needed. But I'm back! And I'm slowly updating some of my other stories! So be on the look out for those! Also, let me know if I missed any warnings! Enjoy!

The freshly wetted grass squished underneath his boots with each and every step. His shoulders were slacked, but his wrists were tense as he held the delicate bouquet with both of his hands. He was always nervous to be here, even though he’s done it so many times after finding it, the nervousness never went away. The nausea never stopped too… or the guilt… the fear… the sadness. Nothing ever stopped like he so desperately wanted to. Was this a curse he was stuck with for helping to bring another child into this cruel world?

He reaches the end of his line, just a few short inches away from where his toes could touch the stone; The stone etched with words and numbers that made his heart ache. And when his knees felt weak he lowered himself to the ground, sitting back on his heels. With a bittersweet expression on his features, he removes the old lilies and replaces them with your favorite, pearly white ones. The ones you always smelled like when you came back from playing in the park. Who knew he would miss such a fragrance? 

He takes a deep inhale through his nose, and exhales quietly, gathering his thoughts. “Hey, baby girl. It’s been some… time since I’ve visited. I honestly thought I should wait until your half birthday, but…” He trails off, frowning. “But uh, I’m heading off on another mission tomorrow, a… potentially dangerous one.” He chuckles dryly. “You know the deal with those.”

He pauses like he’s waiting for your answer he knows he won’t get, letting the hot summer wind touch his face and through his chocolate locks. He waited for that as his cue to continue on.

“Uh… so…”

It hurts to even think about it.

“I was just…”

Should he even say it?

“Wondering again if it goes south I can…”

Should he repeat what he always says to your grave?

“Be next to you?”

Another pause, this time it felt more painful. It always hurts to be here. It always hurts to say those words because it wasn’t like he had a death wish, it wasn’t like he was afraid of death, he just… didn’t know if he deserved to be next to you. You were his whole world and he fucked it up. Fucked it up so bad that it makes him more anxious to want to hold you, and hug you, and kiss you, and just talk to you. He loves you. 

He’s loved you since the very beginning.

.

.

.

Bucky would have fallen back in shock if it wasn’t for the small bundle in his arms. His ex-girlfriend had just said some words that he didn’t need to hear right now. Couldn’t even comprehend it.

No, it wasn’t, ‘Can we get back together? I made a mistake’.

No, It wasn’t, ‘The baby isn’t yours’.

No it was–

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” He asked, disbelief etched in his words. There was also an underlying sense of anger and betrayal, because–

She couldn’t be serious...

Right?

He watched the woman standing in front of him roll her eyes, snatching her purse from his living room’s couch while responding, “I don’t want her. I only had her because you wanted to keep the baby after finding out I was pregnant.”

He nearly doubled over when he heard the disgust in her voice. “So you’re just going to leave?” Bucky asked, seeing his ex now putting on her winter coat. “But our daughter needs a mother figu–”

“YOUR daughter.” His ex snapped, poison on her tongue. “That baby–” She points furiously. “That baby is a spitting image of you. All the way from the shape of her face to the way she smiles. Everything. Which is fine by me, I don’t want someone looking like me out in the world.”

Bucky opened his mouth to speak as he followed her behind as she walked towards the front door. Unfortunately, she beats him to it. “As for a mother figure, you’ve got three sisters and a mom. That baby can pick up skills from them.”

She swings the door open, letting in the cold breeze of February. Snowflakes flew in, sticking to her clothes and curly hair. Bucky immediately stood sideways and drew you as far away as he could from the freezing air.

(Was she trying to freeze you?!)

“Dottie!” He called out from the doorway, stopping her on the porch.

She wasn’t even going to look back at him, wasn’t she? Or even look at you? Did she truly not feel anything?

He doesn’t know why but his voice cracked, and although he and his ex’s relationship was always rocky, and they both knew that whatever was between them wasn’t going to work out, he still doesn’t want her to leave him alone with a one week old.

“Come on…” He continued, quietly. “At least stay for a couple months until I can do this on my own.” His lower lip quivered slightly. “Please?”

He felt you shift a bit in his arms, probably from the weather, and waited for her to turn around…

But she never did.

“Goodbye, James.” Dottie said, before trailing across the snow covered path to the sidewalk. 

Bucky watches her disappear into the night, his feet glued to the floor even when part of his mind told him to run after her. It would be a lie if he said that he didn’t want to go after her, thinking that maybe she’ll change her mind if actually begs, but the mere thought went out the door when you started to get fussy and cry.

Something deep within him kicked in, probably that parental instincts he’s heard about from his own parents, and all his attention was turned to you cradled in a lilac colored blanket.

“Hey…” He whispered, readjust his hold so that he could gently brush their–

No.

That’s officially gone out the window. 

It’s just his daughter. His.

He readjust his hold so that he could gently brush HIS daughter’s cheek. To brush your cheek like a soft paint brush across a canvas. “Hey. Don’t cry.” He says, soothingly.

He makes a soft shushing sound as he closes the front door with his hip, before carefully guiding himself to sit near the fireplace. He lays you cautiously in his lap, almost in awe as he sees your eyes peeking open for the first time.

(Y/E/C) eyes. 

So beautiful like the world itself. He almost wanted to start taking pictures.

Maybe later though.

He chuckles sadly, tears in his own as he brushes your cheeks again. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry, I got you.” He said, smiling down. “I got you, baby girl.”

You cooed quietly, staring back at him with a bit of curiosity. The look you were giving him melted his heart, but it also made him feel like he didn’t deserve any of this.

“I’m sorry…”  He croaks, sniffling. “It looks like it’s just going to be me and you, doll. I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

You made the cute sounds that took his breath away again, taking up his whole surroundings. However, if it wasn’t for his military training, he probably wouldn’t have even heard someone tumbling down the stairs. Bucky glances at the living room entrance, finding a certain skinny blond that he called his best friend. He saw his chest move slightly, and could almost hear him panting from here.

“S-Sorry.” Steve exhales, leaning against the door frame. “Your mom sent me down here when we heard everything go quiet.”

Bucky smiled a little. “She got worried?”

Steve copies him with a chuckle.  “Yeah. She wanted to make sure you hadn’t run off with her grandchild.”

The brunette shakes his head. “That sounds like my mother.” He turns his attention back on you, but from the corner of his eye he could see his friend shifting uncomfortably, almost hesitantly, in his spot. His smile grows. “Come here.”

“What?” The blond said, genuinely confused. 

“Come here, Steve. You can see her.”

He stiffens up a bit, looking unsure. “H-Her… A-Are you… are you sure?” Steve asked, pointing towards the stairs in the hallway. “I-I shouldn’t be the one seeing your baby first. Shouldn’t I–”

“Get your ass over here, Rogers.” Bucky said, almost wishing he could free his hand up and drag him by the ear (he was always so timid and too cautious sometimes).

Not even daring to question his best friend’s wish, Steve wandered over and took a seat on the couch next to Bucky. He leans in close, examining the small bundle in the soldier’s arms.

Steve’s big blue eyes lit up with joy. “Wow, Buck. She’s adorable.” He said, as you scrunch up your nose to show off your cute, chubby cheeks.

“She is.” Bucky said, fighting back the stinging sensation in his eyes again. He now wonders…

(Is this what it's going to feel like all the time now?)

After a moment of silence, Bucky threw his friend through another loop. “Wanna hold her?”

Steve held his hands up in defense almost immediately after those words left his tongue. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t.”

“I trust you.” Bucky holds you out a little, a reassuring look on his face.

Steve raises a cautious eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.” Bucky laughs. “I’ll show you.”

Bucky then takes his time showing Steve how to hold you, giving him pointers and readjusting everyone once and awhile until he has you in a good position. The blond’s nerves seemed to vanish into thin air when he started to see that you were looking at him with the same curious eyes you made at your father. Those eyes of yours could melt anyone’s hard shells at this point.

Steve chuckles, and grins as he gets butterflies in his stomach from you. “What’s her name?” He asks, sparing a glance at your dad for a split second. “Did Dottie ever give her one?”

Bucky shakes his head sadly. “No.” He said, his voice feeling rather small at the moment. “No she didn’t. I’m tasked with giving her one.”

“Have you thought of any? I know you were looking through some books a few weeks back.”

“I have and I think…” He takes another good look at you, making sure the name was the right choice. “I was thinking… (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” The blond repeats back, testing it out like an echo chamber for his friend who nodded back.

“Yeah. (Y/N).” Bucky tests it out his lips as other names start to form. “(Y/N)... Stevie Barnes.”

He looks up in surprise. “Stevie?” Steve asks in disbelief again. 

Bucky smiles. “Well, I heard Stevie is the girl version of Steve, so…”

“But…” His blue eyes look away again, looking completely torn.

Your father raises an eyebrow over this. “But what?”

“You’re flattering me way too much, Bucky.”

“Am I?” Bucky asked, tilting his head, slightly puzzled.

“Y-Yes!” Steve said, shaking his head. “Y-You can’t– You shouldn’t name your kid after me.”

Now it was his turn to be even more confused. “Why not?”

“Because, I’m– y-you have sisters! Parents. Y-You should name her after them. Not me.”

“But, Steve, you’re my brother. Besides…” Bucky shifted in his seat, knowing what he’ll say next is touchy. “I know… the doctor said you might not be able to have kids so… think of this as me… giving you a small piece of that.”

Silence befell, the subject was something that really hurt Steve when he heard it the first time; Hell, it even hurt his mother who was present at the time. It kind of haunted him for a while because what could he offer to a person who wanted to share his life? 

Steve stares at him for a while before tearing up, laughing quietly and looking away. “Jesus, Bucky. You’re making me cry.”

A chuckle. “Well don’t, ‘cause I’ll start crying again.” Bucky says, making them belly laugh. 

The blond sniffles and tests the name out on his own. “(Y/N) Stevie Barnes.” He looks back down at you, his smile returning fully. “Not bad, Buck.”

Your father looked at him teasingly. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Steven?”

“Nothing.” Steve replies, holding back another laugh as he watches you start to drift back to sleep. “I’m really happy for you, man.”

“Thanks.” 

A few moments more passed before you were carefully placed back in your father’s arms, where all he did was stare back at you as you pulled yourself to sleep. His happy face started to falter, and there was a heavy amount of doubt in his ocean blue orbs. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Steve.” He finally admits before swallowing the lump in his throat. He soon felt his friend’s hand on his leg, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Bucky. You’ve got your family and you’ve got me.” Steve said, honestly. “And you know this. However, don’t doubt yourself, you got this. You’re going to be a great dad.”

Bucky’s lip curled up a bit, not caring that he was about to cry again. “Steve Rogers. The man who always knows what to say.”

“What can I say? I try.” He asked, coping with his expression.

“And you think I’ll be great? Even with me being a soldier and everything else that comes with it?” Your father asked, doubt was still just lingering on the surface no matter what he did.

Steve gives another gentle squeeze. “I know you’ll be great. I know you’ll do anything to make sure she’ll be okay. So don’t worry too much, okay? (Y/N)’s going to be lucky she has you.”

Bucky hums, truly grateful for a friend like him. 

And without an ounce of hesitation, he bends down slowly and kisses your sleeping forehead. 

“I already loved you so much, (Y/N). I hope you realize that.” He whispers, lovingly. “And I’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe.”

He swears at that moment he saw you smile.

.

.

.

Bucky brushed his flesh fingers against the words in the stone, tracing your name and important dates. February 23rd, 1936. A snowy, snowy day. Cool and crisp. Although he had to wait and wait until you were a week old to hold you, a week old to realize he was on his own, a week to realize that he truly loved you. No upcoming birthday surprises could top this one. But if he loved you so much then…

Why were you cursed to be underground?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

When Bucky got back home to his apartment, he found himself subconsciously grabbing the bottle of scotch in his cabinet. Although he knew he couldn’t technically get drunk, the feeling he got after a couple glasses was close enough. Sometimes… he liked the quietness in his home, the time to relax, untouched and left alone to be himself; But most of the time, after so many years of being alone in his head, he loathes being alone. Friends and family were everything to him growing up. You were everything to him growing up. 

He still wonders what it would be like if you were here, running around, asking him twenty questions, painting his toes, etcetera. He always wondered what you were like when you got older, the side of you he never got to see. He always wondered what those short years did for you.

Why did he have to get taken from you so soon?

.

.

.

You dove around your grandparents and aunts’ legs as you made your way out of the house, ignoring how your father’s duffle bag, that subconsciously you hated, was laying on the porch steps. You stumble around a bit on your five year old legs, before finding the person you wanted to see. 

“Uncle Steve!!!” You yelled, throwing your arms up.

“Hey, Pumpkin.” He said, teasingly. He wastes no time to scoop you up, and carefully holds you close to him (it’s been years and he’s still afraid he’ll drop you). “Have you gotten smaller?”

You scrunched up your nose at him, shaking your head. “No.” You giggled at the silly nickname, and it all was because you were pocket size.

“No?” Steve said, tilting his head, all cocky. “Are you sure?”

You giggled again. “Yes.”

He grins. “Just checking.”

A sigh came from inside, before the two of you saw your father exiting his parents house, all dressed in his neatly ironed uniform. He looked miserable as he gazed at his bag on the porch.

“Ready?” Steve asked, readjusting his hold on you as he frowned himself.

“Unfortunately.” Bucky mumbled, not ready for what’s yet to come. However, when he faces you his whole expression changes for the better. “And there’s my little girl!”

“Papa!” You yelled, holding your arms out. He takes you in his arms, hugging you gently. “Are you leaving, Papa?”

“Oh, baby doll, I am.” He said, pulling back to look at you. “But don’t worry, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He taps your nose. “Okay?”

You nodded slowly and smiled. “Okay!”

“Good.” He gives you a big kiss on your head, before peppering your face with some more making you laugh. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you, too, Papa.”

“I love you more.”

He gives you one more kiss and one more hug before transferring you over back to Steve. They both give each other a strong hug and pat on the back, smiling bittersweetly.

“Be safe, Bucky.” Steve said, trying to hide his concern.

“I will. You too. The both of you.” Bucky said, grabbing his bag and making sure his voice was stern.

“We will. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Thank you, Steve.” 

He bid them goodbye, and you and Steve watched him walk down the path to the military jeep parked nearby. It was chilling almost to watch, and your five year old mind couldn’t quite comprehend the heavy feeling you felt underneath the surface.

“Uncle Steve?” You asked, prying his eyes away from the moving vehicle. 

“Yeah?” He said, softly.

You looked at him all puzzled, something wasn’t adding up. “I thought you told me you were going with him?” You swear he mentioned something like that to you yesterday. Right?

His eyes look away from you, almost like he was recollecting himself before giving you his answer. “I am. But not yet.” He replies, honestly. His orbs finally meet yours again. “Not until I know you're okay.”

“Really?” You asked, tilting your head to the side with curiosity.

“Sure am.” He smiles once more. “Now, what do you want to do? You want to see what Grandpa and Grandma are doing?”

Your eyes light up at their names. “Yes!!!” 

He laughs at your enthusiasm. “Okay, okay. Let’s go see them.”

.

.

.

Bucky throws a bottle of scotch across the room, shattering somewhere. He didn’t care though. It’s not like he even batted an eye.

Five years old. 

That was it.

That’s the last time he ever saw you.

And that hurt like a bitch.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He doesn’t know when…

But everything suddenly just…

Clicked.

Memories of his flooded in like a broken dam. He starts to recall who he was before and after the fall. Before and after the war. Before and after everything. So as he made his way to Siberia with his friend, Steve, he remembers something that was like a knife to his heart.

“I have a daughter.” Bucky said abruptly, cutting Steve off.

When he was on the run after the helicarriers fell, he remembers his time growing up in the early 1900s. The (multiple) times he saved his best friend’s ass from being picked on, or the way he took his younger siblings to the park, or helping his mother bake, or fixing the car with his dad. But there were a few memories he was confused by for a long time.

First he only heard little laughs, or someone trying to sing a child’s song. Then he saw little toys and dresses. Then he saw a little face with big, wondrous eyes. It didn’t take him long to realize who she was.

He met with his friend’s eyes quickly, almost getting choked up by an emotion that had been under lock and key for so long. “...I have a daughter… don’t I?”

Steve, who seemed taken back by his sudden string of words, opens and closes his mouth a few times, before settling his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Yes, Bucky. You do.”

Bucky looked away, the confirmation sending his mind spiraling again, and the Captain could tell. He decides to approach this carefully since he knows his friend isn’t hundred percent in his right mind yet.

“Do you remember her?” Steve asked, watching him nod slowly. “What do you remember?”

Bucky thinks long and hard about this. What did he remember about you?

“Uh… I remember she was tiny… always tiny.” He chuckles quietly, making Steve smile. “She uh… had um… (Y/H/C) hair that was kind of wavy when she got older. Um… big, bright (Y/E/C) eyes. She… she um… smiled a lot… I think?”

“Yeah, she did Buck. All the time.” Steve said, patting his shoulder gently as he could see the joy it was bringing to his friend.

Bucky laughs again. “Uh… you used to call her by a weird nickname. What was it? Uh…” He purses his lips. “Po… Potato?”

Now it was the blond’s turn to laugh. “N-No. No. Close… Starts with a P, though.”

“Um…” His eyes light a spark. “Oh. Yeah. I remember now. We took her to her first Halloween pumpkin patch when I could hold in one hand because she was so tiny.”

“Yep. That’s what I called her.” He says with a nod. “Your Ma tried to dress her up like one.”

“Oh, yeah, she did.”

And then it got quiet, and Steve saw the bright light in his friend’s eyes go out when the wheels started to turn again. He held his breath, knowing what he was recalling next.

Bucky swayed on the balls of his feet a bit, looking at the floor. “She was five the last time I saw her.” He says, bittersweetly. “I remember, the night before, I took her to Coney Island, and we just played games and ate until our bellies ached. I got her a stuffed bear on the ring toss…”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, trying to give him some comfort because he knew there was no stopping any memories of you.

“She was with you when I left. I gave her hugs, and kisses and…” His voice starts to break. “I love you’s…. Um…”

“Bucky–” Steve begins, hating how hurt he looked.

“Steve. W-Was that last time you saw h-her too?”

Steve closed his mouth, thinking to himself. He couldn’t lie. He was a terrible liar which the brunette always sees through. So what was the point of even trying?

Cap shakes his head. “No. I saw her when she was nine. ‘Bout to be nine.”

“N-Nine?” Bucky asked, just above a whisper. “W-Why?”

“Um…” He swallows. “I had to…. I had to tell your family about, you know… the train… and you.”

The Soldier went distant. “O-Oh…”

“I wanted to make sure I was the one to tell them.” 

“Oh…” Bucky started to get teary eyed. “D-Did you tell her?"

Steve held his breath again. It was like his mind started to relive that day.

You looked so happy to see him, but he watched that expression vanish when you saw his sadden face. It hurts to take you by the hand and into your room. It hurts to see how you’ve grown, and to think he got to see it and not your dad made the situation a whole lot worse.

He wanted to lie and tell you your dad was hurt. 

He wanted to lie and tell you your dad was still at war and won’t be home for a while.

He wanted to lie and say everything was going to be okay.

But he couldn’t, and felt like it was his duty to tell you what happened to your father, to his best friend.

He knew if the situation was reversed, Bucky would be doing the very same thing now.

And when he did tell you, he hated how you kept on denying it. You called him a liar, and god he wished he was.

“I-I did…” He said, feeling his eyes sting as well. 

Bucky jaw clenches. “A-And?”

Steve looks away for a second. “She cried for three hours.”

“O-Oh…” Bucky looks away too. “I always h-hated when s-she cries.”

With his hand still on the brunette shoulder, he gave him another comforting squeeze. “She…” Cap chokes, his memories flooding in all at once. “S-She um… she gave me her blanket, the one that she came home with. She um, wanted me… to promise to come back to her. But um… I failed at that, I guess.”

Bucky frowns. “Steve–"

“I tried finding her, Buck.” He finally looks at him. “When I came out of the ice, SHIELD managed to give me some of my things from the war. I kept the blanket in my chest, so… I tried finding her, because I didn’t want to break that promise to (Y/N), but…”

“You didn’t find anything?”

Steve shakes his head. “Not exactly.” He whispers, exhaling shaky. 

“Not exactly?” Bucky asked, wanting an answer. “What does that mean?”

Now it was Steve’s turn to look all messed up. Especially since he couldn’t make eye contact again. He swallows a lump in his throat and says, “I’m so sorry, Bucky…”

“Sorry about what?” Bucky couldn’t understand what was happening and it was honestly starting to scare him. “What are you sorry about?”

“(Y/N)...” He sighs quietly, and forces himself to look in his best friend’s eyes. “Pneumonia. She, uh… got pneumonia in ‘54 and passed.” 

Now the knife has dug deeper, chilling his bones too. “She’s dead?” He said, barely audible. 

“Yeah. She’s dead.” The Captain replies, dispirit. “I found the spot where she’s buried. I can take you there if you–”

“Thank you, Steve.” The soldier says, ignoring the blond’s confused state. “I mean it. You were always so good to her, and to think you never stopped looking after all this time means A LOT to me. Do you understand? You helped my daughter when she was at her lowest, and you even found her for me. I thank you for that.”

Steve smiles bittersweetly. “No need to. I said I’ll always be there for the both of you.”

Bucky returns the gesture. “As will I.”

“Now, let’s finish this, shall we?”

.

.

.

“-Bucky.” Steve says, touching his shoulder and getting a small jolt from the man. Surprised eyes fell on him as he returned with concerned ones. “You ready?”

“Uh…” Bucky looked around quickly, remembering it was standing in the locker room changing. He didn’t even realize he had zoned out. “Y-Yeah.” He said, zipping up the front of his Quantum Suit. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Steve tilts his head, the worriedness never vanishing. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Let’s get this mission completed.”

And those were the words that would change -everything-.

(TBC)

-Taglist Is Open-

@navs-bhat @liarasstuff @justmewoo @thed1v1n3

@luckyzipperscissorsbat @like-a-domino @kissesofdeadforme

@audigay

[tedwardremus]

Jilytober Dy 15

Prompt: You can kiss me, you know."

Bath time with Harry had become less about getting him clean and more about surviving the aquatic chaos. The toddler had decided that turning the tub into a battlefield was far more fun than letting his father scrub him.

"Come on, Harry," James pleaded, trying to wrangle his squirming son. "Just sit still for two more seconds, and we’ll be done!"

But Harry had other ideas. With a mischievous squeal, he splashed a wave of soapy water right into James' face, leaving him blinking through his drenched glasses. While James fumbled for his wand to clean them, Harry seized the opportunity and made a break for it, giggling wildly as he bolted out of the tub and dashed through the house, leaving a trail of water in his wake.

"Harry! Get back here!" James yelled, skidding across the wet floor in his socks as he chased after his slippery, naked son. Harry’s chubby legs moved faster than James thought possible, the toddler’s high-pitched giggles echoing through the house. As Harry reached the back door, it automatically swung open and the little escape artist darted outside like a miniature streak of lightning.

James cursed under his breath. "Brilliant. Accidental magic. Every. Single. Day."

When James finally stumbled outside, he came to a halt and blinked in disbelief. There, in the middle of the garden, was Harry, proudly sitting in a giant puddle of mud. The toddler smacked the mud with both hands, sending splatters everywhere, laughing like it was the best day of his life.

James pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to laugh himself. "Merlin’s pants, Harry," he muttered. "You're not even two and you’re already causing enough stress to put me in an early grave."

Harry looked up at him, grinning from ear to ear, cheeks smeared with dirt.

James sighed dramatically and trudged over to retrieve his very proud, very filthy son. "Well, congratulations," he said, scooping Harry up under the armpits. "We’re doing bath time again.”

When they stepped back inside, Lily greeted them with a burst of laughter. "I thought you said you were going to give him a bath, not take him on a mud-splashing adventure."

"Ah, yes," James replied with a grin. "Did I not mention it was a mud bath? Very exclusive, I hear."

Lily rolled her eyes playfully. "What are we going to do with you, hmm?" she asked Harry, lifting him from James' arms and holding him close. She leaned in, attempting to kiss his cheek, but Harry started kicking like an over-caffeinated flobberworm, squirming out of her grasp. Before they knew it, he was off, running after the cat with wild abandon, still half-covered in mud.

Lily shook her head, watching Harry tear through the house. "Honestly," she sighed. "I’m starting to think you encourage this behavior."

"It builds character," James said, winking. Then he leaned in, wrapping his arms around her waist. "But you know, if you’re looking to kiss someone, you can kiss me."

Lily laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I’ll take what I can get, since the other Potter is too busy chasing the cat."

[rogueddie]

Steddie Sick Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 😷

Fever

addweetoo

Steve is sick and Robin's out of town. So she calls Eddie to take care of Steve, not knowing that Steve hasn't talked to Eddie since Eddie woke up in the hospital.

Words : 11,359 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

Larkspur and Lily of the Valley

DarkWitchOfErie

Steve has a cough and thinks it's allergies, until a blue petal comes up.

Words : 4,540 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Gently,

TheDeathsWish

In which Eddie wants nothing more than to give Steve the gentle kindness he deserves.

Words : 12,905 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

The Labyrinth

wayfarers0

“I think you’re just not feeling good, kiddo,” she says quietly. “Do you feel nauseous?”

“No. No, I don’t.” fuck, is all he can think; fuck. “No.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Steve told me once you’re not good with that sort of thing.”

“M’not nauseous,” he says, but he has to swallow down saliva as he says this. “I’m just anxious.”

Words : 2,422 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

medicinal

peaktotheocean

“I’ve got a friend who is having a ton of migraine issues," Robin blurted out. Eddie's head rose to look at her. That was a new one. "We heard weed helps. Any truth to it?” She asked hopefully.

Uncle Wayne always used to joke that Eddie was too curious for his own good. Eddie just never thought he'd agree with the assessment while selling weed to Robin Buckley of all people.

Words : 2,233 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

greening out

llovebug

When Eddie accidentally takes too many edibles, he finds himself greening out and wandering the streets of Hawkins. Steve spots him and takes it upon himself to nurse Eddie back to soberness and get him somewhere safe and warm.

Words : 2,702 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Not Rated

AO3 : x

Take Your Silver Spoon, Dig Your Grave

fangirlandtheories

“Shit Harrington,” Eddie smiled, pulling the thread tightly. “Let’s play a game.” Steve rolled his head on his shoulder, looking at him with fever bright eyes. “2 truths and a lie?”

“I sleep with the light on, I haven’t seen my parents in a month, and I like men and women.” Steve watched as Eddie froze in place.

“That’s not cool, Steve.” Eddie continued stitching, a little less gently this time. “Robin said you’re a bit dense, but fucking mocking me af-”

“4 months.” Steve interrupted.

“What?” “It’s been 4 months since the last time I saw them.”

Words : 6,020 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

I’ll be there for you

Battered_child

After the nightmare spring break in which they had gone to fight a monster in the crazy Hellscape version of their hometown, the weeks that followed had been non-stop for Steve.

First there were the hospital visits, though he’s not sure it counts as visiting when one spends more of their time there than away. The first week had been the worst.

After they had dragged Eddie’s lifeless body from the Upside Down, Steve had been so worried that someone would come after him that he’d refused to leave the other boy’s side for the first few days. This of course meant he didn’t get his own injuries seen to, and he then spent his own painful recovery either at Eddie or Max’s bedsides, working, or ferrying kids (and Robin) around town for various reasons.

Words : 6,545 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Can I Still Call?

theswampnugget

Steve doesn't like being taken care of. More specifically, he doesn't like to feel like a burden. He really can't avoid it when a migraine wipes him out in the middle of a shift, and none other than Eddie Munson comes to drag him home.

Words : 4,130 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

[b-skarsgard]

•The bold choice means on another such night, in a dark and shrouded set-build, the first time Hoult and most of the crew will even see Eggers’ vampire, the moldering Count Orlok (an unrecognizable Bill Skarsgård), will be in this dance between light and dark. And every dance has its quirks.

“I had all the prosthetics pieces and the big fur coat,” Skarsgård recalls with a smirk. “And [Cinematographer] Jarin would have hundreds of candles, and the way he would light a face would just be like, ‘Light more candles; kill these four candles; light those up.’ I remember being very hot and sweaty.” It’s not necessarily the effect one expects in the presence of a vampire, but it was satisfying all the same to Eggers and Skarsgård. After all, the pair have chased the demon for nearly a decade.

•The director’s quest for authenticity likewise led him to retain certain elements of Murnau and Grau’s iconic Orlok design (the talons are still there) while reinterpreting others.

“My main goal was to ask, ‘What would a dead Transylvanian nobleman look like?’” Eggers says. “The hairstyle and all of the clothing, and all the trappings come down to that, and then creating a scary, imposing, masculine vampire rather than a sad vampire, although Bill still adds some needed pathos in a few moments.”

Skarsgård indeed brings a wounded ferocity to the character while vanishing in Orlok’s design. The Swedish actor reveals he would sit for six hours in the makeup chair for full-body prosthetics, which was only the beginning. Since Eggers’ Orlok is supposed to have once been a 1500s sorcerer who survived the grave, Skarsgård felt liberated in other areas.

“There’s no historically accurate accent of what that would sound like anymore,” Skarsgård explains. “He could possibly be Hungarian or he could be Romanian. So I just took little things, idiosyncrasies that they possibly would have, like rolling Rs, without going too Bela Lugosi. It was just finding these little things to anchor it in.”

•In this vein, Depp sees Ellen’s draw toward Orlok as tragic since she is so deeply in love with Thomas. He is genuinely good for her, but there’s something inviting about darkness.

“I think that it touches a lot on taboo and being drawn to something that scares you,” the actress says. “A lot of people live with a true fear of death, understandably so, but we’re kind of drawn to it and intrigued by it… because it’s the most terrifying thing, it’s the most titillating thing.”

Perhaps it is the actor who plays Death himself who can best make sense of Orlok’s thrall. In Skarsgård’s mind, the vampire represents anything humans are drawn to despite knowing better. “It could be an addiction, it could be an abusive relationship, it could be all of those things,” Skarsgård says. “He’s the embodiment and allure of attraction to destruction. Sometimes you want to be destroyed or you want to be corrupted, and that’s Ellen’s inner struggle. Then sometimes, from Orlok’s perspective, it’s the craving to destroy that which you find so beautiful.”

excerpts provided by the link above where you can read more

[loserboyfriendrjl]

“there has been another attack this weekend, as you may have found out,” their defence the dark arts professor, a woman with waves of dark hair whose name lily hadn’t remembered, still, said. “a whole family has been wiped away from the safety of their own home in leeds.”

“the death eaters,” black said, without even bothering with putting his hand up.

the woman nodded, gravely, and lily saw severus snape’s eyes burning the back of his head; turning around, leaning on the two back legs of his chair, his arm propped up on peter pettigrew’s desk, black returned the ferocious glare.

lily’s hand shot up. “they were muggles. another attack against defenceless muggles.”

once again, the professor nodded. “defenceless, because you cannot save yourself from the killing curse, even as a wix, let alone a muggle. which is why,” she said, and the blackboard turned around to face them, “we will today be discussing the unforgivable curses.”

her hand shot up again, and potter leaned forward against the desk. black smacked his over the head playfully.

“start drooling, won’t you?” she thought she could make out, as the other boy rolled his eyes, sitting himself back in his chair.

“the unforgivable curses are three of the most powerful and sinister spells known to the wizarding world, as well as the strongest known dark spells in existence.” she finally sucked in a deep breath of air. “their usage is enough to send you to azkaban without parole.”

“correct!” the woman exclaimed, putting her hands together. “now,” she said, pointing to the first curse on the board, “we will start with the most horrible one; what is the “avada kedavra” curse?”

“instant death,” severus snape said, not looking at lily.

“you’d know best,” potter whispered loud enough to be heard, and snape sneered, “wouldn’t you, snape?”

before he got to open his mouth, the professor cleared her throat. “alright, that’s enough. yes, the killing curse is, as implied by its name, instant death. it is said to be painless, but no person can defend themselves from it or survive it. now, how about the cruciatus curse?”

“torture,” potter answered, leaning in his chair. “it can lead to insanity if the victim was subjected for too long, and the pain is so unbearable that the victims wish for pain or death instead of having to endure it.”

“very well, mister potter. and, to end this class with the lesson finished, can anyone tell me what the imperius curse implies?”

“control over another person’s actions,” black said, again, without raising his hand, looking positively bored.

“over their whole being,” lily hissed, raising her hand.

“over their whole being, if executed successfully,” he retorted, “because people with exceptional strength of will can resist it.”

“i highly doubt there are enough people in the world to be able to block an unforgivable curse, black,” lily rolled her eyes. “considering the fact they land you a sentence in azkaban without parole and, a lot of the times, without trial.”

“it happens often enough to mention,” he replied, crossing his legs. “because if it didn’t, it wouldn’t be mentioned.”

the bell rang, and their professor dismissed them, not before giving them half a meter of an essay to write, “and don’t make your handwriting bigger just to get off with less writing, i will know!”. lilt lingered around her desk, hoping that she would get to talk to black without looking desperate to do so.

however, he seemed to get the message, as he told his mates to “go on, i have something to do.” he stopped by her desk, and only then did she notice the hoop that pierced through his straight nose.

“can you really fight it off?” she asked, throwing her bag over her shoulder and making her way to the door, black following her suit.

“if you can block it, which requires sheer amounts of willforce and a strong character,” he said, putting his hand into his pocket. “it resembles occlumency, in a way. closing one's mind against legilimency. it’s mind-reading, to succinctly describe it,” he added, as an answer to her confused expression.

lily’s eyebrows raised. “because when you’re imperiused, the caster gets into your head, too.”

black nodded. “it’s one of the darker parts of magic, legilimency, if you ask me. being able to see into a person’s mind, whatever they’re thinking. their memories, their fears, everything else, and it requires a person who’s really talented at it, a good legilimens—”

“oi, mate!” potter shouted. “finish off your nerding about and come on, i’m starving!”

black barked a laugh. “i suppose that’s my cue to go. see you, evans.”

he picked up his pace to get to his mates, and lily watched him go away, her eyebrows furrowing. magic was such a dark, twisted thing, deep under the surface.

[xxavengingangelxx]

Somewhere Only We Know 3/?

Part threeeee! I feel kind iffy about this one. Smurt starts so MDNI! 18+ I feel like the smut is not my best work but there will definitely be more smut in the future chapters :)

Taglist! @bellgraves, @unicorngirly1, @josieguts, @lily-lily131313, @shepgurl - if you'd like to be added, lemme know! ;)

Val feels like she has no choice but to return to Shadow Company for numerous reasons.

EDIT: Forgot to add! Q and A. Will Graves get more affectionate? I've gotten that question a LOOOT. Yes. But like all men he just found out and is a little overwhelmed 😉

-

You didn’t know how much time had passed when Price excused himself to take a phone call. Someone had called him three times back-to-back.

You knew who it was didn’t you?

-

Price wasn’t allowed to wander off very far. That small wing of the hospital you were in had been sealed off. No one enters or exits except for the police and the military.

Your suspicion was confirmed so were you really surprised when you heard Graves’s voice on the other end of that phone? Years of explosions and gunfire didn’t allow Price to turn the volume low enough that your younger, less exposed ears couldn’t pick it up. And because of how close the perimeter of that hospital wing was you heard every…word.

“Price,” Graves’s voice was tight, on-edge, dangerous and you wondered if someone had pissed him off right before.

“Graves,” Price spat back. “Was beginnin’ ta think Laswell had finally approved that airstrike you were nothin’ but ashes.”

“Haha,”

“Sorry,” Price added, “but I constant’ly fantasize about ya dying.”

“Knock this shit off,” Graves warned. “You have two people I’m interested in.” Graves paused before adding, “One I haven’t quite met yet.”

Price’s silence told you he was in shock.

Why did Graves sound so fucking terrifying today?

“Bloody ‘ell,” Price gasped. “How’d you—”

“I have eyes everywhere,” Graves said darkly. “A thing you might not know about southern culture, ya Brit. We like to keep our families together.”

“And you see Val as family? She’s not your wife ya fuckin’ psycho’.”

“No, she is. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

And you don’t know why that line made your breath catch in your throat. You knew Graves was obsessed with you but what exactly did he mean by that?

“You’re such a sick fuck,”

“Get her back to me.”

“I can’t override an arrest warrant,” Price shot back.

“Figure it out,” Graves snapped. “Or Makarov wins and World War III starts. I have the money and the connections to hide me and my family. Do you?”

-

You didn’t know you were still crying until the tears rolled down your face as a female soldier (no, not a police officer but a soldier) patted you down. The UK military was pissed enough to detain you because you’d released the codes to 141’s homing beacons. You had denied torture and refused to say anything against Graves or Shepherd. So they saw it as you betrayed 141 and willingly gave them up. You and Graves had worked together that night, hadn’t you? At least that’s what it looked like on the outside looking in. All the digging they’d done had revealed hushed secrets of how you two had been inappropriately involved with each other pretty much since you’d met.

You had mugshots taken for the first time in your life. They took pictures of every visible scar. You wondered why this wasn’t done at the detention facility and you were told it was in case you or someone who fancied you just happened to bust you out from the facility or even got to you before you even got there. So they’d have pictures of you to show the world and help re-capture you.

You were given a bulletproof vest because you’d made the news and had been labeled a traitor. You were loathed. There had been threats on your life. The news loves making people look horrible don’t they? You wondered if the news knew about your situation. Graves knew. And you really didn’t know how to feel about that. You couldn’t even get away from him by being arrested and detained.

You were never going to get away from Graves were you? You didn’t exactly hate it, though. But it also scared you, didn’t it?

You were chained like you were some outlaw (you kinda were though, weren’t you?). The fact that you could pick handcuffs and liked swing at authority figures had gotten around and so your cuffs were anchored to a chain around your waist. Not too tight. They didn’t want you, a sue-happy American, to sue them if you just so happened to lose that pregnancy.

“You’re really gonna let yourself get locked up instead of sayin’ somethin’, anythin’ against that son of a bitch?” Price asked.

“Just watch out for Graves and Shepherd, Captain,” you stated. “He might like me. But he won’t think twice about killing you. Make sure you and your boys stay safe.”

“You make it sound like you’re sacrificin’ yaself.”

“I can keep him distracted just enough.”

-

The sunlight was bright and it reminded you of how much you hated sunny days. The noise was overwhelming. News crews, people shouting at you, calling you a traitor. So you just glanced down, using your hair to hide your face. 141, for all you had done against them in the last 3 months, shielded you as best as they could.

Soap even pulled your hood over your head and you almost cried at the kindness of it. Also, pregnancy hormones.

It was cold.

You were about to be put into a military vehicle when a familiar voice, a demanding voice, told them to stop and turn around.

It was impossible to understand what was being said outside with all the noise. So you all went back inside, into the warmth of the hospital.

Granted you couldn’t move much. Cuffs anchored to your waist and leg irons. That thin bulletproof vest was tight on you, straps drawn snug. Graves indeed hadn’t been lying that they were going to treat you like a fucking prisoner, a good for nothing. And that was one of the reasons you kept your faith in Graves. You were weirdly bonded to him. You didn’t love him and you were sure he didn’t love you. But it seemed like you both were stuck together for the time being.

Maybe forever. You were obsessed. Maybe just as much as he was. Maybe a little less, though.

But the man here in person? General Shepherd.

“Graves told me what happened,” Shepherd stated. He removed his sunglasses.

“It’s none of yer business,” Price snapped.

“No, it is because she’s mine.”

“No, your Shadow piece o’ shit kidnapped ‘er. And now he’s fuckin’ stalkin’ her.”

“We had reason to believe she was collaborating with Hassan as she was the only one we found. Wandering all alone.” Shepherd paused before adding, “Like an abandoned puppy. That’s the term Graves used. And abandoned puppies need new homes, don’t they?”

Price full on growled. “Thas’ some bullshit excuse ya have. It won’t make sense on paper.”

“But it will,” Shepherd grinned that shit-eating grin he had. It was the same grin you imagined him having when Graves took that initial hostage video all those months ago. “And it did,”

Price was handed papers. What they said you couldn’t read. The print was too small.

“Val here was abandoned by her task force. We took her in, interrogated her, revealed she had nothin’ to hide.” Price signaled at the documents in Price’s hands, shaking with anger. “We did not, under any condition torture her.”

Shepherd looked at you, smirking before adding, “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

“They didn’t hurt me,” you confirmed. You lied. You lied to protect Shepherd, Shadow Company, and most importantly, Graves. Something deep inside told you this would not be the last time lying for them. If this shit was brought to court or congress, you’d keep lying to protect Graves without a second thought.

“Val, ser’ously?” Price glared and if looks could kill, Shepherd would’ve died on the spot.

“She’s been with Shadows for 3 months. She’s mine now.” Shepherd demanded. “Hand ‘er over,”

“She’s not goin’ with ya,” Soap snapped. “Ya’ll done enough.”

“Don’t make me get my boys. You sure as fuck don’t want me getting Graves. He’s pissed. Has been. And when he’s mad he gets trigger happy.” Shepherd smirked. “Now go on ahead and get Graves’s little miss outta those cuffs. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Don’t why ya’ll would treat a lady like that.”

“You’ve lost your mind…again, Gen’ral,” Price snapped. “She’s lookin’ at a court martial. US and UK want her here.”

“Let me put it in simpler terms for you,” That smirk never left Shepherd’s face. “Give me the girl. Give me my soldier or we all lose.”

“You don’t have to go with him,” Price muttered from next to you. “We can get a court to look at this,” He signaled at the pages which you still hadn’t bothered to try reading. “You have a choice,”

“I want Graves,” you said confidently.

The police officer, a new one, looked at Price, his gaze asking what he should do. Release, not release? Detain?

“You’re gonna go back to the company that fucked you up so bad you tried to kill ya’self?” Price paused before adding, “Is’ not jus’ about jus’ you anymore, Val. You have someone else to think about. Don’t do this.”

You shrugged. Because it really was. The bond you had with Graves was intense. Plus, you’d stay out of prison. You did have a child to think about. And the last fucking thing you wanted was you in prison in the UK, Graves in prison in the US, and your child in that horrible foster care system. You’d run before you let that happen.

“We’ll get them after all this, Val,” Price muttered so only you could hear. “They’ll rot in prison.”

“Release her. Now.” Shepherd demanded of the officer. “They’ve removed her AWOL status and transferred her to Shadow.”

“You better sleep with one eye open, mate,” were the last words Price said to Shepherd before you walked out of that hospital with said general free of restraints.

-

Shepherd didn’t say much in the truck. At least not at first. You rubbed your wrists because they cuffs on your wrists had been on too damn tight.

It was you and Shepherd. That was it. You wondered where Graves was. “You’ve done good work, soldier. Graves asked for you by name. Pulled a few strings and got this done because Graves is my best.”

You didn’t say a word. You’d thanked him earlier anyway. Well, that is except to ask, “Where’s Graves?”

“A safehouse,” Shepherd responded. “What’d you tell ‘em, soldier?”

“Nothing, sir.” You responded. “They threatened me with prison but I didn’t say shit. Respectfully.”

“We’ll pull the hospital records,”

“I’ve nothing to hide, sir.”

Shepherd paused before adding, “Don’t disappoint my top man,” Shepherd warned. “He’s gonna be your Shadow for the rest of your life. Told me he’s not letting you go.”

“No, sir. I won’t, sir.”

“He asks you to get on your knees, your response is how low, understand?”

“Yessir,” you felt like he was selling you to Graves.

“Ya ever thought about letting him fuck a kid into ya?”

Your head snapped to look in his direction next to you. Did he know?

“Would be nice to leave all this to family,” Shepherd stated simply. He saw you as something to be used. Was that why he’d said all those months ago he wanted you specifically working for them? A female? A female Shepherd knew Graves had a thing for?

Shepherd chuckled that cold laugh before adding, “I know ya’ll been fuckin’ since you met pretty much. He’s been obsessed with you.”

Was he kidding? And at that second something deep inside you told you Graves might like that you’re carrying his kid. There was no getting away from him now, was there? Even if you wanted to. Where the hell did you think you were going to hide with his kid?

“No offense, sir,” you replied after catching your breath, “That’s not why we—”

“That’s it’s God-given purpose,” he interrupted. “He’d be perfect.”

Who--? Hell, Shepherd was already obsessed with the kid and Shepherd didn’t even know the kid existed. Right? And you didn’t like that, not one bit.

“Product of two of my best soldiers, raised by Shadows, in the field.”

You weren’t sure if Shepherd took your ensuing silence as a form of defiance or as a form of acceptance.

You wished it was just you. Just you going back to Graves, no kid. But you were stuck now, weren’t you? You didn’t think your IUD would fail. But it did. You had less than a one percent chance of getting pregnant but here you were. And that was why you’d made that decision, amongst other reasons, sure. The decision to keep him. Him because you felt it was a boy.

Because maybe while you distracting Graves wasn’t enough, maybe you and his kid would distract Graves enough for him to leave 141 alone.

You just hated an innocent life was involved.

-

“Did you really raise that much hell?” Graves’s voice from behind you light a fire under your heart. He must’ve noticed your brief injuries.

“You told me to raise hell so I did,”

“Atta girl,” Graves smirked.

You couldn’t help it. You reached out and hugged him, gear and all.

And surprisingly?

He hugged back.

“Good ‘ta have you back,” Graves said, his voice tickling your hair as he rested his chin on your head.

-

You hoped into a hot shower the second you could. You scratched your skin raw trying to get those tape marks off your arms from when the hospital had started an IV sedated you that one day. You had tape marks all up and down your arms from all the times they’d drawn blood, marks around your wrists from the handcuffs and restraints.

“Don’t make yourself bleed, darlin,’” Graves chided. He’d been watching you through the clear glass shower door.

“I want it off,” you almost pouted.

He was naked when he joined you and you couldn’t help but eye him up and down shamelessly. He did the same to you. His eyes stopped on your breasts and on his favorite spot between your legs.

“They hurt you, didn’t they?”

His eyes lingered on the tape burn on your face from the duct tape pulled off your mouth three days ago. On the scrape your cheek showed after being yanked onto the ground face first when you hit a police officer in the face. And finally, to those scratch marks on your arms from trying to take the medical tape residue off.

You had indeed made yourself bleed.

“Only a little,” you contested.

“They’ll never have ya’ll again,” Graves promised.

And that confirmed he knew. He knew it wasn’t just you anymore.

You got on your toes. The hot water had you both sweating. Your hair was in loose curls over your shoulders and his blonde hair falling over his forehead. His hair almost looked light brown when it was wet and hanging on his forehead. Your lips met his briefly before he pressed his lips onto yours, his tongue sweeping your mouth possessively. You raised your hands to his shoulders, to the nape of his neck, the strong stinging pain of scratch mark wounds forgotten.

He placed two strong hands on your hips before gripping your ass and effortlessly lifting you. You, out of habit, wrapped your legs around his waist. He pressed you onto the cold tile behind you, making you gasp and hiss and arch your back.

When you arched your back, you felt him, hot and thick and hard, at your entrance.

“That desperate are we?”

You gave him a lustful glare and an exasperated huff while he scoffed in response.

Graves ran his teeth just along your jawline, making you moan. You caught yourself and reminded yourself to be quiet. This was a safehouse, not a black site. It meant noise traveled through the walls like they weren’t there. It wasn’t like back on base where the walls were concrete. And absorbed all the sound.

“We’re alone,”

You moaned more at his words.

“Lick my fingers,” Graves commanded. He had you pinned against the wall, his hot, thick cock just touching your entrance. You mewled, trying to get him inside you.

So you obeyed. You ran your hot tongue over his fingers as he held them in front of your face.

“Show me how you’re gonna take me,” Graves added in a low growl.

Graves suddenly released you and your knees almost gave out.

You wanted him. You needed him.

“On your knees,”

You obeyed instantly. You fucking loved that despite your delicate situation he was still willing to insert at least a little dominance in the bedroom.

Without him asking you to, you took his hard length into your mouth.

Graves gasped and moaned, throwing his head back and catching his hair in the hot spray of the shower.

-

It wasn’t long before Graves was on top of you, in bed. You were both still drenched from the shower but it wasn’t like either of you cared. You’d started sucking him off and after pulling you off of him he’d started to work his fingers inside of you before he’d abruptly cut off the water.

Now here you were, drenched hair sprawled out behind you while Graves had bruising grips on your thighs as you felt him mercilessly use his lips, teeth, and tongue to taste you.

You felt like you needed him to totally own you. To take your mind off that burning pain from where you’d scratched yourself so hard you’d cut yourself open earlier, from what you’d learned from your hospital stay, from all the shit you’d been through. So you said those key words…the key words that let him know you wanted him to fuck you almost into unconsciousness, that gave him permission to leave marks on you.

“Graves, show me who I belong to,”

But to your surprise?

“No,” came the growled reply from between your legs.

“What?” you glanced down and the sight that met you almost made you gasp. Graves, his hands still grasping your thighs, his pupils wide with lust, his chin damp from your arousal, his hair sticking to his damp forehead.

You wondered if maybe you tasted differently. Could he taste that he completely owned you, marked you forever? You were carrying his child. How much more could he own you?

“No, Val,” Graves repeated, his gaze not leaving yours. “Tonight I’m just gonna relearn every fucking inch of your body.”

So after he’d edged you twice and finally let you cum on his lips, he was finally inside you.

And that’s when time seemed to slow down. It felt like you had been apart from Graves your months when in reality it had been a few days. You wondered if this is what addiction felt like. Every time he moved inside you it was like you both moaned in unison. You heard him say something but you couldn’t quite decipher it. Your brain was jelly.

You could feel yourself getting close and he would stop. You whined at the feeling. You wanted to beg him to continue, to fuck you until you couldn’t talk, couldn’t walk.

But every time you’d open your mouth to beg, he’d seal it with his own. And you’d feel him smile, chuckle. The bastard knew what he was doing. So instead of getting rough, he was edging you. He was relearning you and ensuring himself he still knew every inch of you by making sure his cock reached so deep inside you until it could go no further.

“Say my name,” finally came the command. Apparently your ears had stopped working because you knew that tone of voice. Graves had had to repeat this command more than once.

“Fuck me, Graves,” you gasped as his hips stuttered, making your insides flutter.

Graves talked again, but you had trouble hearing him over your own moans and filthy words begging him

Fuck you harder.

Graves grabbed your shoulders and shook you hard enough to get your attention. Not nearly as hard as when he’d fucked you before you were ‘rescued’ by 141. There was a gentleness to his motions that he’d never shown before and you wondered why. Before reminding yourself: you’re pregnant. He was still buried inside you and you arched your back, trying to get him deeper into you.

“Say my full name,”

So that’s exactly what you did.

You said his full name, Phillip Graves, as you came a second time, this time around his cock and felt as his thrusts got sloppy and rough and hard while he came undone inside of you.

-

End notes: This is gonna get soooo complicated! :o

[anxiousnerdwritings]

it would be fucked up if Bellatrix was the only one who figured out the reader was an obscurus. like maybe they’ve run into each other a few times at the manor on an au where she wasn’t imprisoned but Narcissa is always intercepting them. kind of irritating the hell out of Bellatrix because she immediately picked up on the dark energy that the reader’s got going on and really wanted to get to know her.

and sometime after the reader is outed/the Malfoys find out she’s just not phased. sort of making Narcissa paranoid.

the reader runs into Bellatrix at Spinner’s End as the reader is leaving her house and Bellatrix is leaving Severus’ house and there is silent moment between them that kind of changes the reader’s perception of the witch.

the reader will ask how she knew and Bellatrix will shrug before saying: “it takes a monster to know a monster”

turns out in those small, measly interactions, the witch began to form a curiosity that lead to the yandere mentality. i mean, the woman spent months stocking the poor reader to find out who her sister’s mystery lover was. how could she not get obsessed with the woman? but she never pursued her romantic interest because she wouldn’t betray her sister like that. well, at least not until she found out the reader had ended things when she discovered they unintentionally intended to use her against her own kid.

and although Bellatrix was annoyed to have their plans ruined, there was something about the reader that just made the whole death eater business seem tiring. for the first time in her life, she understood why her sister wanted no part of it or why her brother-in-law seemed to be very slowly pulling himself out.

just crackling at the thought of Harry nearly tripping as he walks down the narrow staircase at Spinner’s End one summer mornjng and sees his aunt sleepily making a pot of coffee whilst Bellatrix fucking Lestrange (who has recently and very publicly defected from the death eaters) is disconnecting the floo and setting up dangerous traps around the house in some sort of twisted moment of domestic bliss.

you just know that Andromeda can’t stop laughing at the irony that Bellatrix ended up with a muggleborn after everything she put her and Ted through but Bellatrix simply argues that the reader is more then a muggleborn considering her immense power whilst Narcissa tears the manor apart in a fit of rage and poor Draco is quietly wondering if they’ll adopt him

and Lily is rolling in her fucking grave. she contemplates coming back to haunt her but seeing the Bellatrix is willing to go toe-to-toe with the Dark Lord for the reader eases her anxiety a bit. plus it’s also nice to have someone teach Harry more then one combat spell

I like to imagine that in this scenario, Bellatrix didn’t end up taking part in the torturing of the Longbottoms (but she still had full knowledge that it was going to take place) and having Lucius and her sister vouch for her resulting in her not being taken to Azkaban in the aftermath of the war but still being on the Ministry’s radar.

Bellatrix would spend most of her time at Malfoy Manor along with her sister, not really doing or going anywhere unless necessary, so she would of course notice when Narcissa goes off at odd times and for lengthy periods, the same for Lucius. She doesn’t think much of it when her sister and brother-in-law do so together but it peaks her interest when they do it separately while the other has other things to tend to. So of course her curiosity and nosey-ness get the better of her and she falls her sister one day only to witness her meeting up with a woman she’s never seen or heard about before in a very muggle populated area. Bellatrix doesn’t want to confront her sister right away, rather wanting to find out what all she can on her own before finally questioning her sister.

And the more Bellatrix follows her sister, taking in all the information and proof there is, she’s hit with the horrendous reality that her beloved sister is having an affair with a muggle. At first, Bellatrix is far too taken aback to comprehend everything that’s she’s added up with all that she’s witnessed and found out. She doesn’t want to believe or accept that her sister has been tempted by something as deplorable as a muggle, but the facts are right in front of her. It gets even more confusing when she ends up catching Lucius visiting the same muggle woman that she caught her sister with.

I could definitely see Bellatrix going two ways with this. She either confronts Narcissa first and gets all the information that her sister has been withholding from her for all this time then meets with the muggle woman behind both Narcissa and Lucius’ backs to see what’s so amazing and worth risking the reputation of their families over. Or Bellatrix takes it upon herself to meet this muggle woman before ever confronting her sister altogether and see what that has to offer, only for Bellatrix to pick up on something about the Reader that’s just a little off but peaks her interest all the more.

She doesn’t agree with the relationship or the Reader whatsoever, whether that’s due to her prejudice or her own jealousy that Narcissa and Lucius get to have the darling to themselves who knows. But Bellatrix keeps her mouth shut for her sister’s sake and puts up with the Reader being at the manor more and more now. She hasn’t seen Narcissa so happy and content like she is when the Reader is around and that’s makes Bellatrix bite her tongue all the more. Besides, the more the Reader is around the more Bellatrix can get a feel for them and figure out what’s so appealing about them that caught Narcissa and Lucius’ attention, as well as her own.

Bellatrix wouldn’t be entire subtle in her intrigue towards the Reader and Narcissa knows her sister enough to see that she’s paying just too close of attention towards her darling, and it worries her to no end. She knows how unpredictable Bellatrix is and she knows that when left alone to her own advises, Bellatrix will take whatever chance she can. So, of course Narcissa is going to keep her darling as close to her as possible or at least within her sight at all times. And if her darling were to be out of her vicinity or Bellatrix were to catch the Reader alone there’s no doubt that Narcissa most likely put a tracking spell of some sort on at least her darling, maybe even on Bellatrix, just to know where her darling or when the two cross paths and she needs to intervene or intercept them.

After the Reader up and leaves the Malfoy’s without so much as a word, Bellatrix is of course there to comfort her sister but internally she’s excited. On the low down she never really wanted the relationship to workout with her sister and the Reader, whether again it was due to her prejudice or her own interest in her sister’s darling, Bellatrix is the only one who really has a clue. But now that it’s happened she can’t help the giddiness bubbling up inside of her. This means that their darling isn’t really their darling anymore, right? Is this the Reader’s way of ending things altogether with them? It has to be! Bellatrix wouldn’t completely go out of her way to look for the Reader, she doesn’t make it her mission to find the darling or anything, but her mind is often consumed with the thought of the muggle woman who had her and her sister vying for her attention and what was just so appealing about them.

It isn’t until Bellatrix and Narcissa make a visit to Severus’ place that Bellatrix catches sight of an all too familiar figure taking out the trash or getting the mail next door. Fortunately, she had been boredly looking out the window while Severus and her sister talked otherwise she wouldn’t have been any the wiser to the allusive darling having taken up residence right next door to good ol’ Snape. Bellatrix wouldn’t drop by right then and there though, no, she wants to have her time with the Reader without her sister there to soak it all up. No, Bellatrix would come back another time and when she did she would be having a very long talk with the Reader.

Imagine the Reader’s shock and inner panic when she answers the door to Bellatrix fucking Lestrange standing right there armed with a predatory smile, as if she’s finally cornered and caught her prey after playing such an infuriating game of cat and mouse. Bellatrix doesn’t wait to be invited in, she just pushes her way past the Reader and takes a look around before making herself comfortable. Then Bellatrix confronts the darling with everything she knows and has the Reader spill everything to her about what she is. No doubt Bellatrix uses Narcissa and Lucius’ hurt regarding the Reader leaving them to manipulate the Reader into talking with her.

Once it’s made clear that the Reader is in fact an obscurus, Bellatrix can’t help the excitement coursing through her. This whole thing just has her feeling some type of way and she likes it. She promises not to breath a word of the Reader and Harry’s whereabouts to her sister and Lucius or the fact that the Reader is the obscurus that the Dark Lord is wanting. But, Bellatrix’s silence comes at a price but the Reader will come to learn what that price is later on. It’ll be sometime before Bellatrix drops by for a visit again, it could be a few days or maybe a few weeks but she does come back and this time she’s not leaving again.

Those few days or weeks, Bellatrix spent thinking and mulling things over. This whole Death Eater thing just didn’t do it for her like it used to. Sure, it could be because it’s been so long since she’s seen or had any part in any Death Eater action but even the thought of that didn’t appeal to her anymore. But what did sound all the more thrilling was what the Reader had going on, both with herself and the whole Harry being the ‘chosen one’ debacle. Now that sounded like some good ol’ heart pumping, blood rushing fun. And Bellatrix wanted a taste of what the Reader had to offer. So before the Reader can even process or have any knowledge of, Bellatrix moves herself into the Reader and Harry’s new refuge on Spinner’s End. And Severus would be shitting his pants the first time he catches sight of Bellatrix sipping tea out on the Reader’s front porch as if she was born to do just that.

I really love the thought of the Reader just coming home one day, probably after a long day at their muggle job or whatever only to find Bellatrix all moved into her and Harry’s home like it’s the most normal thing. Harry’s utter shock and inability to accept/process that Bellatrix Lestrange is now living in his house and is alone with his beloved aunt is something else entirely. Like, I imagine this whole thing going down with Bellatrix and leaving the Malfoy’s altogether happens while Harry’s still off at Hogwarts. Also, I love the thought of Bellatrix being completely and utterly under the belief that since she’s moved in with the Reader and now that Narcissa and Lucius aren’t in the picture then that means she may as well already be married to the Reader. She’s going about her day to day life living in domestic bliss, meanwhile the Reader is totally just taking this whole situation as a weird roommate ordeal. Like, sure Bellatrix has her own room and everything but she still sneaks into the Reader’s room to cuddle and what not. Really Bellatrix is content just taking what she can but in her mind she and the Reader are already married and Harry’s their adoptive child. God forbid, Petunia ever meets Bellatrix, shit will hit the fan and there will just be nothing but chaos.

The utter reaction of Harry, the Order of the Phoenix, Albus, Narcissa, Andromeda, Sirius and the entirety of the Wizarding World to Bellatrix Lestrange’s very open and public defection as a Death Eater and from Voldemorts side as whole would be fucking incredible. Like, I just imagine Bellatrix apparating to the Daily Prophet or whatever other magical journalism/news source and just being like “Boy, do I got a story for you”.

Also, I totally stand by Muggle!Aunt!Reader being the best of friends with Andromeda and Ted Tonks in any and all scenarios regarding the Reader. Like, Andromeda and Ted are just utter platonic yanderes for Harry’s aunt. I like to think that after so long of not hearing or interacting with Bellatrix or really anyone else from her family, Andromeda is just randomly greeted to Bellatrix apparating into her and Ted’s home to ask advice on how to deal/tolerate with a muggle. And Andromeda is on her ass laughing that her over the top prejudice sister has fallen for a muggle herself. Not to mention, Andromeda feels so bad for the poor soul who has garnered her psychotic sister’s interest. I wouldn’t be surprised if early on, Narcissa reached out to Andromeda to ask advice on how to court a muggle which is what initially brought the Reader to Andromeda’s attention.

And you can bet your sweet lasagna that Bellatrix is going to go out of her way to teach Harry how to really duel and what spells would be so much more effective than just Expelliarmus. Like, are you serious? Is that all Hogwarts has taught you?? Also, I totally headcanon Bellatrix becoming a Defense Against Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts if she quit being a Death Eater pretty early on. Especially if Muggle!Aunt!Reader was a teacher at the school too then that means Bellatrix could be even closer to her.

[prismatica-the-strange]

Graveyard Flowers | You Can't Save Yourself or Save Your Soul

Warnings: 18+, Sexual Themes, Death, Blood, this was supposed to be smut but it took a strangely angsty turn.

Ah yes the strip club fic

A Grave Mistake by Ice Nine Kills

"You want me to what?"

"I need you to go undercover to help me in this case," Wolf repeats.

"And why would I help you?" Lily asks.

"You've broken out of lock-up on three separate occasions and the only reason you're not back in there now is a technicality," Wolf explains, "A technicality I can easily ignore."

She tenses at the threat, sitting up a little straighter, "I get your point. What do I need to do?"

"There's a club, up top, where the perp is hiding out is hiding out with his little gang of life force thieves. We need you to get hired as one of the dancers and catch them in the act."

"You mean strippers," She dead pans.

"Now here's the catch," He ignores her comment, "These punks will sense your lack of life force, so you'll be granted a temporary visa back to life."

"I'll be alive again?"

"Well, until they..."

She looks at him like he's crazy, "...Kill me? You're sending me back there to get murdered all over? No! Are you insane? No! I refuse to go through that again!"

He stops her as she gets up to storm out, "I can reduce your Netherworld sedation!"

That makes her pause. She would love to be more coherent throughout the day. She stomps her foot and sighs, "Yeah, alright. But Beej isn't gonna like it."

"You're damn right I don't like it!" Beetlejuice hisses, "How is anything gonna get done around here if you're gone?"

"It's only a few day," She says, "A week- two weeks tops!"

He crosses his arms angrily but looks more akin to an indignant toddler who's mom had to go to work and leave him at daycare.

"You gonna miss me that much?" She teases and he huffs, "Don't pout. It was either this or back to deep freeze."

He slumps back into his chair, still pouting.

"Beej," She coos softly, sitting across his lap, "C'mon."

"Well," His hands find her hips, fidgeting with the bottom hem of her vest, "What kind of undercover work would they have you do?"

"Does it matter?"

"Y'see? I don't like that," He pulls her closer, "What could be so bad you can't tell me?"

"I dunno... how possessive are you feeling?"

"Possesion's kinda my thing, doll face," He answers, tugging her against his chest.

"I'm supposed to be a stripper," Maybe if she just rips off the band-aid he won't freak out as much.

He stares at her for a moment and she thinks he's chill with it, but boy is she wrong.

"I think the fuck not!" He snaps, "I'd rather you go back to deep freeze than become some chick in some other ghouls spank-bank!"

"Are you serious?!" She teleports a few feet away, more pissed than she's been in months, "You get how fucked up what you just said is, right? I get a one way ticket off the Netherworld's most wanted list, and your ego would rather have me get locked in my own head again?"

Tonight's the night.

She takes a deep breath in the mirror, Jackie invited her back to his bachelor pad after work. She's gonna get killed again and she's trying not to freak out.

A bottle of wine pops into existence on the vanity next to her a note with a black and white striped heart on it tied around the neck.

She just rolls her eyes and drops it in the trash can next to her.

She hasn't so much as acknowledged Beetlejuice's existence since their fight, throwing away every little apology gift he's sent her way, and it's driving him insane.

The shrinkers haven't known a moment of peace since Ro left. Without her there to keep their boss occupied, he's been breathing down their necks, when he's not busy sulking and stalking her, that is.

Enough enough, he's going up there, he knows Jackie, he's no snitch, but at least he'd be able to see her. So, he picks up a phone, and gets himself on the nights guest list.

He's just getting comfy back in the VIP section, eyeing the girl finishing her dance lustfully.

Apocalyptic by Halestorm

When the next girl walks out the cigarette nearly falls from his lips. There's his girl in the world's tiniest black and white cheerleader outfit, turning that pole into her bitch.

She's good, too good. Every guy in the room is hypnotized by the her thighs squeeze the metal pole.

She stands in front of the small crowd by the stage, hips swaying enticingly. She pops the button on the side of her skirt, and pulls her top off, letting them fall to the floor,leaving her in a gorgeous black lace lingerie set that has his mouth watering.

He whistles loudly, hand slamming on the table, panting like a dog when her eyes lock with his.

He expects her to ignore him, but her lips quirk into an evil smirk.

She presses her shoulder back against the pole, reaching up as she slides down into a squat during the chorus, her thighs parting to the men in front of her.

She doesn't break eye contact as she feels up her tits.

She drops to her hands and knees, arching her back to show off her ass before leaning back on her knees and dragging her hands up her thighs toward her sex.

She grabs the pole and spins around, getting to her feet with ease, arching her back again, giving the audience a perfect view of her ass.

The way her ass cheeks jiggle with every movement has him straining in his pants.

He's about two seconds away from blowing her cover and fucking her stupid backstage when the man of the hour leans close to him, blowing smoke with a grin, "She's a beauty, ain't she?"

"You can say that again," He says through gritted teeth. He doesn't like all these sleaze balls staring at her. He's the only sleaze ball allowed to look at her that way.

"Yep," Jackie leans back in his chair, leering at her, "We're havin a little party later, Juice man. My place. You should come, seems like somethin you'd enjoy."

"Sounds like a plan-" Holy shit.

As the song comes to a close she shimmies out of her bra and he nearly teleports in front of her to bury his face in her tits.

Instead, he scowls as the cheering crowd applauds, frown deepening when she blows a kiss his way.

"Hey, I'm just gonna get some fresh air," He tells Jackie, "You know it's so hard to come by downstairs."

He waits by the door of the motel room, puffing a cigarette in agitation.

As soon as she steps out of the car he's on her, pulling her aside with a firm grip.

"Not now."

"You've been ignoring me."

"Beej, I said not now!" She snaps.

He looks at her in confusion, "What's wrong?"

That takes her off guard, he's never been that direct about her feelings like this.

"I..." She sighs, "Baby, I can't do this right now."

She turns to leave but hesitates before she turns and takes the cigarette from him, taking a long drag.

She chokes on the tarry smoke.

"When are these from?" She coughs, "The 1950s? Jesus."

"Not your speed, heh?"

"These new lungs aren't as broken in as I'd like," She shrugs, "Thought I'd take one last hit before my timer ran put."

"That tonight?"

She avoids his eyes and hands it back, "Yeah..."

She's not telling him something, but he doesn't have a chance to push it when she walks inside.

By the time he follows her in, Jackie has her sat on his lap, giggling at something he said.

"There he is, darlin', have you met BJ?" He asks.

"Briefly."

Beej narrows his eyes at her then addresses Jackie, "So Jacks, you mentioned something about a party but... five people do not a party make."

"You know, darlin'? He's right. Up you get," He pats her ass as she stands and motions for her to stand by the wall, "Let's get started."

The entire atmosphere of the room changes at that, the lights dim and the door locks by itself.

"Jackie, baby, this girl's a breather, what're you doin'?" He mutters to his host.

"Exactly."

The other two guys appear next to her and pin her to the wall by the arms.

"W-what are you doing?"

"We're gonna suck out your life force," Jackie grins, coming up in front of her and inhaling deeply, "And darlin' you're brimmin' with it."

She struggles in their grip, the horror of what's about to happen crashing over her like a tidal wave, and tears start to well up in her arms, "No! Please don't!"

Beetlejuice feels oddly sick to his stomach watching this scene unfold. He knew this gig was temporary, but he didn't think Wolf was sending her up here just to get murdered again.

Similarly to how Delores sucked dead men's souls, Jackie starts to inhale Ro's life force.

The cry that rips out of her nearly breaks him. She thrashing and kicking in their hold, eyes squeezed shut when she cries his name, "Beej!"

That's it. She doesn't wanna die like this? Fine by him.

She's in his arms in an instant, collapsing against his chest with heaving breaths.

"I gotcha, Rosie," He assures her, "If that ain't enough proof for Wolf, I don't know what is. Let's get the hell out of here."

"The hell do ya think you're doin' BJ?" Jackie hissies, grabbing his wrist, "You know her?"

"Biblically," He says bluntly, "And I don't appreciate the way you treated her. In fact..."

He sends Rosie over next to the door, making a show of rolling up his sleeves to deal with these punks.

Something feels wrong. Her chest is tight and her head feels like it's full of helium. She stumbles toward the wall, bracing herself on it as one of the goons goes flying across the room.

It's like she can't get a full breath in. She squeezes her eyes shut when the room starts to spin.

"That takes care of that- Rose?"

She looks at him with unfocused eyes just as her legs give way beneath her.

"Whoa!" He catches her just as she starts to fall, "Damn sweetheart, you've never been a fainter before."

When she doesn't respond he shakes her slightly, "Babe?... Rosie?... Hey, come on, this ain't funny."

Her warmth rapidly recedes, skin paling, as a familiar gash opens on her throat, and, finally, her eyes flutter open.

He sighs in relief and cups her cheek, "Welcome back."

She goes to speak but the air escapes her throat.

"Oh! Here, let me," He snaps his fingers and her wound stitches itself back together, clean little 'x' sutures instead of his name this time, "Better?"

She wraps her arms around his stomach and hides her face against his neck.

She's trembling and he has no idea what to do. He does know, he's going to make Wolf's afterlife a waking hell for putting her through this again.

He firmly rubs her back, "Well, it's over now. You don't have to do it again."

[solarstarsz]

i have a few fun and happy theories ‼️ (part 2 to my post about sirius not attending james and lily’s funeral)

Remus was definitely the only friend of theirs that went to the funeral, because he was the only one that didn’t die, run away and fake his death, get arrested, or obliviate himself.

So now imagine Remus standing alone in a crowd of witches and wizards from all around that have come to honor Lily and James. Pictures are snapped of the grave, later to be seen in the ‘Daily Prophet’ above a caption stating that You-Know-Who had so easily killed the Potters, yet had trouble with Harry and fell in the action.

Thinking, he should’ve done something. He knows there was no way he could’ve known, but theres this voice that follows him around until the day of his death that repeats; it’s all your fault.

I believe Professor McGonagall was desperately scavenging the world for a substitute, if the funeral was on a school day. (if it were not, she obviously would have gone and thats boring because im an angst hungry monster).

No matter how she much pleaded and begged for someone to take her roll just for a day, there were no volunteers. So she was stuck teaching Transfiguration that day. When she heard anything about them she shut them out, and for an eternity like Remus, the guilt of not being able to say one last goodbye followed her around.

She was able to shut it out and not reveal why the events of October 31st of 1981 meant so much to her.

Until in 1991 she was reviewing the list of incoming first years, and she stumbles across the name Harry J Potter, and her mouth gets dry as she recalls the day of his parents’ demise.

[xuracha]

Prepare the Dead

Tang looks at the demon monkey as he is covered head to toe in blood, with multiple bodies of the demon kidnappers behind him, as Wukong stands proudly in front of him puffing his chest out expecting Tang to thank him for yet another rescue.

Unfortunately, instead of a thank you, a scolding lecture is given.

"Wukong, what have I told you about killing?!?! Killing is bad!! We are buddhist monks, we solve our problems WITHOUT VIOLENCE!!!!," Tang shouted at the monkey, as said monkey turns away with a scoff, now with a deep frown on his face. Wukong has heard this lecture so many times that it has almost became second nature to block him out at this point. "OH YEAH, let me just convince these demons out of eating my master, the reincarnation of the Golden Cicada, one of Buddha's diciples, and gaining immortality! DO YOU KNOW HOW REDICULOUS YOU SOUND??," Wukong argues back.

Tang and Wukong's squabble continues on for a few more minutes, until Lily slams her now extended wand on the ground, creating a loud thud to garther everyone's attention. The glowing stone at the end of her wand releases a wave of energy which then transforms into the shape of a shovel blade. She throws the glowing shovel towards Wukong, which succeeds in catching it.

"Since you are responsible for the corpses, you will also be responsible in helping me prepare them for burial," Lily stated. "Pigsy and Tang will assist me in recovering and moving the bodies, once finished with digging up the graves, Wukong and I will prepare the bodies for burial, and Sandy will help Wukong in lowering the bodies to the graves." Lily then faces the Monkey King before facing Pigsy since they are the touble makers in the gang. "I expect no snarky remarks, sarcasm, and especially no disrespect for the dead beginning, during, and after these tasks are done." If looks could kill, she would be more than six feet under, with the glare a certain monkey is giving to her right about now.

The woman ignored the progressively fuming monkey, as she walked towards Tang to grab the string of coins that was on his person. "I will also now be responsible for this gang's money. For every person Wukong has killed, there will be one coin used and placed under their tounges to ensure them safe passage to the Underworld."

Tang looked at his deciples, before turning to the woman with a look of uncertainty. "Miss Lily, that's our entire supply of coins for buying food, shelter, and other supplies when we get to the nearest town. What will happen if we used up all the coins for Monkey's misdeeds?" Lily rolls her eyes at the monk, explaining (lol mansplaining) to her the monetary value and purpose of the coins, as if she doesn't know currency. "Then you will know who to thank when we arrive at the next town with no money to afford a single bowl of rice, and forced to find alternative ways to get by before our next departure."

Wukong stares in shock for a split second, before he bares his teeth and fangs at the only woman in the group, looking like he is about to add one more to the pile of copses. "How dare you command me to do such an abhorrant task woman, I aught to knock some sense to you. I am a KING, therefore you will treat me like one!!! I will not do such foolish and lowly tasks of a undertaker, ESPECIALLY to the bodies of my enemies!!!"

Uh uh, he did NOT just talk to her like that. Lily will not stand for such disrespect. She turned towards Wukong with a sickly sweet smile, eyes shining with hidden rage. "Then you, my homicidal ass of a furry gremlin with nuts for brains and no impulse control, will have the blood of your enemies as well as an innocent on your hands. And you are not a king right now, you are a traveling monk, and last time I checked, monks result to violence when there is no other option other than self-defense, and even then it is NON FATAL. Now start finding a spot and start digging, these bodies aren't going to bury themselves. We will be here all day and night doing this if we have to. You took their lives prematurely, the LEAST you can do is provide them with a safe passage to the Underworld!"

The two of them have a stare down, analyzing each others movements, before Wukong lets out a frustrated shout and backs off with the shovel to find a spot to dig. "Stupid woman, making a king do such disgusting tasks," he muttered.

[lonetile4]

WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE

A semi-crack fanfictions including organizations from Call of Duty, Resident Evil, Dragonball, and Marvel.

This is a work in progress. Whenever you see "==Place Holder==" it means there is a gap where I need to fill in a good transition between sections. Whenever I get writers block, I move on to the next plot point and fill things in later.

"We're glad you came," Nikto said, voice rough.

"It's been a while, Andre." Liliya answered. She sat down beside him at the bar. She observed her friend. He was wearing a sweatshirt; the hood pulled over his head to hide his face. He held a glass of scotch in his hand.

"We told you not to call us that," Nikto muttered. "Just Nikto is fine."

"Sorry." Liliya ordered herself a drink. "So... what made you call me after all these years?" She swirled the golden liquid in her glass, listening to the ice clink.

"We... need help." Nikto glanced at her. "A mission came up. It involves robotic weapons. And you know more about robotics better than anyone."

"I'm a civilian now, Nikto," Liliya said quietly. "I can't." She got to her feet when Nikto grabbed her wrist.

"It's Hydra, Lily," Nikto said. Liliya paused. She looked at the hand that had grabbed her arm. There was a long pause between them. Liliya clenched her fists.

"God, dammit," she hissed. She let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine."

===

"Ain't this amazing?" Philip Graves asked, hopping off the chopper.

"Yeah... wonderful." Jill Valentine replied, crossing her arms.

"Come on!" Graves laughed. "The BSA, Shadow Company, Spetsnaz, and Red Ribbon... all working together!" Liliya tensed.

"Red Ribbon doesn't exist anymore." Liliya said. "So I don't work for them."

"Whatever," Graves scoffed. "Powerful people coming together to fight for the same cause." Liliya rolled her eyes.

"Hey," Chris Redfield walked over and patted her shoulder. "Relax."

"If I had known the BSA was called, I wouldn't have agreed to this." She glared at Nikto, pissed that he left out an important detail.

"Look, what happened with Claire, I don't..."

"This has nothing to do with Claire!" Liliya snapped. "This has nothing to do with the fact that I nearly sent your sister... my *girlfriend* at the time, to her death trying to take down what was left of Red Ribbon." Liliya pinched the bridge of her nose.

"And now I'm back to taking out another evil organization. Who knows who I might send to their death."

"Well, Graves is always an option," Chris said with a small laugh. Liliya rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile that formed on her lips.

"I heard that," Graves said. Liliya flipped him off, but had a smile on her face. Her smile faultered before she turned back to Chris.

"She's doing okay, though.... right?" She asked. "I know it's been... 2 years..."

"She's doing great," Chris answered. "And you?"

"Hanging in there," Liliya answered. The teams walked together into the large hanger.

"We're sorry for not telling you about the BSA," Nikto said.

"It's fine. Whatever," Liliya grumbled. "But if the BSA is here... robotics and bio-weapons don't exactly mix well... if B.O.Ws start having Red Ribbon tech? That's more than any of us can handle."

==PLACE HOLDER==

"Your gas mask will remain on at all times," Chris said. "We don't know what Hydra has been cooking, meaning we have no cure and no idea how this thing works. We could be dealing with simple zombies or B.O.Ws."

"So this is a suicide mission...?" One of the Shadows asked.

"I'm not going to sugar coat it," Chris replied slowly. "This will likely be the most dangerous missions you will ever do, which is why we need to work as a team, have each other's backs."

"We'll be learning on the job, so keep your radio on for updates." He glanced around the room. "Communication and teamwork are important."

==PLACE HOLDER==

"So, you're a cyborg..." Graves said, looking at Liliya's legs.

"You could say that..." Liliya grumbled. She looked through the binoculars at the facility door.

"Did Red Rocket leave you with any cool gear? According to what Chris said, those B.O.Ws ain't pretty." Graves was squatting nearby, gun at the ready, just in case. It did make Liliya feel a little better to have someone watching her back.

"I have a few," Liliya confessed. Well, she had more than a few. Just some little trinkets in her back pocket just in case.

"You know, that makes me feel a lot safer." Graves said. "I've seen the aftermath of what happens when the BSA has to get involved."

"Yeah... it's not pretty." Liliya grabbed her radio. "Clear. Safe to move in, but stay cautious."

"Roger that." Chris replied from the other end. Liliya put the radio down, returning to keeping an eye on the teams. She could hear Graves's men communicating with the BSA as they moved in.

"What happened between you and the BSA?" Liliya's eye twitched in annoyance.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Graves. Mind your own business."

"Alright," Graves went quiet again. There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Let's move." Liliya lead Graves and a small squad of Shadows towards a different entrance. "Remember what Redfield said. Communicate." She looked at everyone, memorizing their faces. She wondered how many good people would be left after this mission. She wanted to say something... to tell them to say goodbye to each other and to prepare in case they need to shoot their own brothers, but she knew the moral was low enough. She didn't need to add more to it.

Once the door was breached and cleared, Graves and Liliya walked in. The place was quiet... but quiet never met safe.

"Heads on a swivel," Liliya warned. "That includes on the ceiling."

[To be continued...]

[artyandink]

we could be more | dean winchester | 8

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

THE USUAL SUSPECTS

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : ROLLING IN THE DEEP - ADELE

“Miss Ivonne Rainer.” A dude with black hair and green eyes stepped into the room, holding a case file. He was around my age, well built, and judging by the confidence, high up in the precinct. He was also, now that I mention it, sexy. “You’ve got a very chequered past, by the looks of it.” 

“I’m not playing chess, mate, so just cut to the chase.” I retorted, tapping my watch. “You’ve got 48 hours, so why not tell me your name so we can move things a bit quicker?”

”Detective Sergeant James Rhodes.” He showed me his badge. 

“Where’s the bad cop, eh?”

”With Dean Winchester. Good cop’s with Sam, and the even worse cop is with you.”

”I feel special. Flattered.” I smiled sarcastically. “Why are you holding us?”

”Your buddy Dean is being held on charges for suspicion of murder.” 

I frowned, leaning forward. “Murder?!”

”You sound genuinely surprised. You should’ve gone to acting school.”

”Who could he have murdered?” 

“We’re getting onto that.” He replied, opening a file and giving me a once over with a hint of red on his cheeks. I smirked a little, leaning back in my chair. “Let’s just look through your file first. I’ve got a lot of research on you, Ivonne. You’re 27, born in ‘79 in Jersey to Michael Rainer and Audrey Rainer neé Singer. You went to a good primary, got a score of 174 on your LSATs, an almost perfect score on your SATs and scored a full ride to Princeton on the course of economics while trying to help your younger sister Quinn battle cancer, which ultimately failed.” I gritted my teeth. “But, here’s the catch. One year after your admission, you were forced to drop out due to your father’s untimely death, a murder which was never solved. Do you want me to continue?” 

I stayed silent. 

“Tough crowd. About a month after your father’s death, you were the centre of an open and shut case eight years ago in which your brother Carter descended into insanity and killed your family by sticking knives into their throats, and also killed your mother’s unborn child. However, in defence, you shot him after he tried to do the same to you. You were proven innocent after a CCTV recording placed Carter as the killer of your sister Lily and your mother. You went off the grid, but then conveniently seven or eight years later, you were kidnapped by your boyfriend Xavier Jackson, but you broke free, wrestled for his gun and shot him twice, killing him. Your witness? Sam Winchester.” 

“You done relating my life story?” I scoffed. “I’ll admit it, you’re cute and this macho, intimidation act is as well, but if you’re aiming to take me out to dinner after this, you’re gonna have to take a step back and reassess the situation.” He looked taken aback, and I nodded. “I’ve met people like you before, Serge, and I know exactly how to deal with them.” 

“We’re here to discuss Dean Winchester.”

”And so far all you’ve done is relate something that isn’t important and check me out.” I smirked. “Get on with it, will you?”

”Why I listed every bit of your family history is because one thing doesn’t add up.” He put down the file. “How you ended up with the Winchester brothers. You have no connection to them. Your family had no contact with the Winchesters. So how did you end up with a man who’s charged with assault, murder and grave desecration and his brother?” 

“I found them.” I frowned, pulling out my dad’s journal. “Read about John, Sam and Dean Winchester, knew I had to find ‘em. I had a stalker after me. Not anymore, but Dad’s journal knew that they could help me and they did.”

”What about Tony and Karen Giles?”

”Anthony Giles was a friend of John Winchester.” I explained. “I went with Sam and Dean once they found out that he was dead, throat slit with no trace of any bad things happening in Giles’ life to make him do such a thing.”

“There you go.” Sam gave Dean and I a cup of coffee while Dean handed Sam a paper while I dried my hair with a t-shirt. I was wearing a baggy black cashmere jumper with jeans, my necklace around my neck as usual.

“Anthony Giles.” Dean stated. 

“Who’s Anthony Giles?” I asked, leaning in with my hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

“He’s a Baltimore lawyer. Working late in his office, check it out.” 

I read the paper, raising an eyebrow. “Room was clean, throat was slit… but no DNA or prints.”

”Keep reading. It gets better.” 

“Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant.” Sam muttered. 

“So either someone tampered with the tapes, or…” 

“There’s an invisible killer.” 

“My favorite kind. What do you think, Scully? You wanna check it out?” 

“I’m not Scully. You’re Scully.” 

“No, I'm Mulder. You're a red-headed woman.” 

“You two are idiots, more like.” I sighed. “Let me dry my hair, then we’ll head out.” 

“C’mon, Beanie,” Dean laughed, “you look good with wet hair.” 

“Then again, it doesn’t feel great in cold air.” I winked. “Maybe next time.” I rifled through my box of IDs, buying my lip. “Who are we today?” 

“Insurance investigators.” 

“I’ll get my suit from the Mustang.” 

“But, if you think about it, Dean couldn’t have murdered Tony, being at my house, right?” I asked. 

“You’re right.” He nodded. “Tell me what happened next.” 

“We went to see Karen, to help her keep herself together. And boy, she was fallin’ apart.” 

Karen Giles sat on her sofa, sniffling and wiping her nose on a tissue. “Insurance. I totally forgot about the insurance.” She whispered, holding back the fifth wave of tears. 

“We're very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand.” Sam pressed on, and she nodded. I forgot to mention, we were insurance investigators. 

“Sure.” 

“So, if you could tell us anything you remember about the night your husband died.” I asked, sitting down next to her. 

“Uh, Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner. He called and said he was having computer troubles and that, that he had to work late. That was it.” Karen recounted, and I nodded. 

“Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?” 

“No, like I told the police, I… I have no idea.”

”Did Tony mention anything, you know, unusual to you? In the days before his death?” Dean asked. 

“Unusual…” 

“Yeah, like… strange?” 

“Strange?” 

“Y’know, like… weird noises, visions-“ I cleared my throat, stopping Dean. 

“He had a nightmare the day before he died.” She whispered, and Carl wrote it down on my flip notebook, and I was loosely holding the pen to give an impression that I was writing and not a magic pen. 

“What kind of a nightmare?” Sam frowned. 

“Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed, he blinked and she was gone, I mean, it was just a nightmare.” 

“Did he say what she looked like?” Dean asked. 

“What the hell difference does it make of what she looked like?!” 

“Our company’s thorough, Mrs Giles.” I smiled, stepping in to save Dean’s butt. Again. “We’d like to get a detailed description of the days prior to the incident so then we can make a good analysis. As many details as you can spare, if that’s ok.” 

“Yeah.” She nodded, calming down, while Carl wrote down ‘good job’ on the paper. “He said she was pale, and she had dark red eyes.” 

“Thank you for your time.” I gave Karen a side hug, giving her my fake calling card, but had my burner phone number. “Call me if you need anything.” 

“I told Karen to call me if she had any problems and then we set off.” 

“Doesn’t explain why you broke into Anthony Giles’ office.” He persisted.

“Okay, look, Karen called us later, said that there was some stuff that she wanted from Tony's office, but the police weren't letting her in- like, a picture of the two of them in Paris, and some other stuff. She gave us the key. It wasn’t a break in.” 

“Hey. Anthony Giles' body was found right about here.” Sam gestured. 

“Throat slit so deep, part of his spinal cord was showing.” I read out, sitting at the computer. 

Dean whistled. “What do you think? Vengeful spirit? Underlining vengeful?” 

“Yeah, maybe. I mean he did see that woman at the foot of his bed.” Sam shrugged. I found something at the printer, whipping it out. 

“Take a look at this.” I showed it to them. It had the word/thing ‘danashulps’ written all over it. “Dana Shulps.” 

“A name?” 

“A name that’s everywhere.” Dean chuckled. “Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” 

Sam checked the desk, shining his torch down. Then he breathed on it, revealing the word Dana Shulps. “Well, I think we’ve crossed over to a whole new level of weird.” 

“Tell me about it.” I typed quickly, trying to crack the password to Giles’ computer.

”Maybe Giles knew her.” Dean suggested. 

“Or it’s the name of our red-eyed mystery girl.” Sam shrugged. We went through available files, I scoured the internet, hacked into police databases, but… 

“Nada.” I grimaced. “No girl name Dana Shulps ever died a horrible death or even existed. The surname Shulps isn’t even a name.” 

“So what now?” Dean groaned. 

“I’m a few clicks away from unlocking Giles’ laptop.” I clicked my tongue. “There could be something in his personal files.” 

“How long?” Sam asked. 

“Fifteen minutes, give or take. Carl, lend a nib.” Carl started helping, while I counted down the seconds until-

There we go.

“Seriously?” Sam sighed.

 Dean’s fart noises.

”Your story checks out.” Rhodes nodded, closing the case. “But fact remains that Dean was found at Karen Giles’ murder scene.”

”Fact remains that Dean Winchester saved my life.” I frowned. “On multiple occasions, won’t specify which, and if that warrants anything, it warrants a hell lot of respect and favours. Come on, Serge. You’re smart, it’s obvious. You’re probably the type of guy to take one look at who you’re dealing with and say whether they’re guilty or not. And you’ve taken a long, hard look at Dean. At me, maybe even Sam. Give me your honest opinion. Do you think any of us are guilty?”

”No.” Rhodes admitted. “Facts don’t add up. Dean wasn’t holding a weapon when they found him. He wasn’t present at the murder of Tony Giles. No prints, no DNA, just him conveniently at the scene. But I’ve got nothing else to work with, unless something else is at play here, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was because a murder isn’t that clean cut.” 

“What if it was something else?” I shrugged. 

“What are you suggesting?” 

“At the crime scene, we found two words written over and over. Dana Shulps.” I showed him the printed paper. “Help me figure out what this means. If you find Dean guilty after this, go ahead, arrest him, put him on trial and get him in prison with a lifer, but for now, consider the fact that he’s innocent.”  

James sighed, conceding. “Fine, but it has to look like I’m interrogating you.” 

“Not so much of an even worse cop, huh?” 

“I bend to reason. Now, Dana.” I wrote down the name, staring at it. 

“Best thing I’ve got is an anagram.” I shrugged, tapping a pen on the table. 

“Scramble it, then?” We both wrote down the words in different ways, switching things up, thinking, until I got something. 

“Ashland sound familiar?” I asked, and he nodded. 

“Ashland’s a street name.” A woman knocked and walked in, and she looked to be in her late forties. Her badge read ‘D. Ballard.’ 

“Detective Ballard.” Rhodes’ demeanour switched up, turning to Ballard with a smug air. Wow, that was quick. Smoother than butter. “How’re things going with Sam Winchester?” 

“Story matches Dean’s. How about Rainer?” Ballard replied. 

“We’re getting somewhere.” He smirked, glancing back at me. “Miss Rainer and I were having an intense heart to heart, but story still matches the other two’s. Though, I have to say, tough customer. Not sure Pete would be able to keep his cool for long if he had her.” 

“I doubt it too.” She nodded. “Keep at it, we can only hold ‘em for 48 hours.” She left, and Rhodes switched again, turning back to me with an easy smile. 

“How’d I do?” 

“You lie almost as well as I do.” I grinned. “Am I turning a good boy soft?” 

“Cut the bad girl act, Rainer.” Rhodes chuckled. “Yeah, I have to admit, I was checking you out, but I can look through a guise if I see one.” 

“Again, flattered.” 

“You’re a hard case to crack, aren’t you?” 

“I like to give people a challenge.” I wrote on the paper. “Get this to Dean and Sam, any way you can without being spotted. They need to know.” 

He took the paper, standing up. “I hope to God that you’re right, Rainer.” He left, leaving me to contemplate all my life decisions.

”Trust me, I hope so too.” I sighed.

Rhodes came into my room later, looking grim.  “I got you a ticket out, but Dean’s decided to confess. You might wanna come watch.” 

“Confess to what, though?” I asked, picking up my leather jacket and putting it on. 

“That’s what I wanna find out.” We went into the interrogation room, where they were setting up a camera. 

“Beanie.” Dean grinned upon seeing me. “Are you ok?”

”I’m doing fine.” I nodded.

”Your boyfriend decided to confess, sweetheart.” One detective smirked. “Speak directly to the camera, and state your name for the record.” 

Dean faced the camera, a smug smirk on his face. Wait, I know what he’s going to do. “My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius.” Here we go. “I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women. And I did not kill anyone. But I know who did. Or rather what did. Of course it can't be for sure, because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory was that we're looking for some kind of vengeful spirit.”

”Excuse me?” Ballard scoffed. 

“You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost?” Dean shrugged. “Tony Giles saw it. I'll bet you cash money Karen did too. But see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason it's trying to tell us something. But communicating across the veil, it ain't easy. You know, sometimes the spirits, they, they get things jumbled. You remember ‘REDRUM’. Same concept. You know, it's, uh, maybe word fragments... other times, it's anagrams. See, at first we thought this was a name, Dana Shulps. But now we think it's a street. Ashland. Whatever's going on, I'll bet you it started there.”

“You arrogant ass.” Detective Sheridan hissed. “Tony and Karen were good people, and you're making jokes.”

”I’m not joking, Ponch.”

”You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis!” 

“Oh, yeah. That wasn't me either. That was a shape-shifter creature that only looked like me.” Sheridan lost his temper, hauling Dean up by his collar and slamming him against the wall. I was going to step in when Rhodes held me back, other officers jumping in to help.

”Pete!” Ballard gasped. 

“That’s ENOUGH!” Rhodes yelled, stopping everyone. “I’ll cuff him myself, just go return to your jobs. Rainer, you stay with me.” Everyone left, leaving Dean, Rhodes and I alone. 

“Well done, you locked me up.” Dean grimaced as he looked down at the cuffs now around his wrists.  “Whatcha gonna do, gloat?”

”Ask you two if this Casper thing is real.” The answer took Dean aback, and he blinked at Rhodes, wondering why. “I talked to Rainer. The facts don’t add up, and a spirit seems most obvious when it comes to a murder with no prints or DNA.” 

“Beanie, you sly fox.” He chuckled.  “She can talk her way out of anything.”

”Long story short, yeah, it is.” I nodded. “Shifter is real too, all of the likes of it are.”

”So, Ashland?”

“Street name.” Rhodes nodded.  “Why this spirit is trying to tell us that, I’m not sure.”

”The girl died there.” Ballard stepped in, and Dean sighed, rolling his eyes and opening his mouth to speak. “Can we make this quick? I'm a little tired, it's been a long day, you know, with your partner assaulting me and all.” 

“I want to know more about the stuff you were talking about earlier.” She gulped. 

“Time Life. Mysteries of the Unknown. Look it up.”

”Let’s pretend for a moment that you aren’t entirely insane.” 

“Mhmm.”

”What would one of these things be doing here?”

”A vengeful spirit? Well, they're created by violent deaths. And then they come back for a reason, usually a nasty one. Like revenge on the people that hurt 'em.” 

I noticed something on Rhodes’ wrist, and I took out, pushing up his sleeve. 

“Where did you get these?” I asked.

”These weren’t there before.” He gulped, looking freaked. Ballard pulled up her sleeve too, showing the bruises. 

“You two saw it, didn’t you?” Dean frowned. 

“How did you know?” Ballard gasped. 

“Because Karen had the same bruises on her wrists. And I'm willing to bet that if you look at Giles' autopsy photos he's got 'em too, it's got something to do with this spirit, I... I don't know what.” He paused, staring at Ballard’s stunned expression as she turned away. “I know. You think you're going crazy. But let's skip that part, shall we? Because the last two people who saw this thing? Died, pretty soon after. You hear me?” 

“You think we’re going to die.” Rhodes breathed. 

“You need to find Sam.” Dean urged. “He can help, and so can Ivonne.”

”You’re giving up your brother.” Ballard stammered. 

“Go with Beanie. She’ll find Sam and they can help figure this out. You can arrest him if you want, or you can let him help you.” 

“Lead the way, Rainer.” Rhodes agreed, and I immediately walked out of the door, both of them following.

I knocked on Sam’s door at the motel. “Jim Rockford? It’s Tabitha from room service.” Sam opened it immediately, spotting the two behind us. “They saw it. This is James Rhodes and you know Detective Ballard.”

”Get in.” We all got inside, and Sam hugged me before turning to the other two, holding their wrists. “These showed up after you saw it?” 

“Yeah.” Rhodes nodded. 

“You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive. I should be arresting you.” Ballard shakily told us, but we shared a look. 

“Fine. Arrest Sam, then.” I shrugged. “After we save your life. For now, just trust us to do this, ok?” 

“She’s right, Diana.” Rhodes vouched, and she conceded. I gave him a thankful smile, pulling out Sam’s folder of crime scene photos and booking photos. 

“Okay, great. Now, this spirit. What did it look like?” 

“She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red? It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just... a lot of blood.” Diana stammered. 

“Alright.” I showed them the photos. “I’m gonna flick through these one by one, and you’re gonna tell me if you recognise her.” I went through the photos one by one, and then Rhodes cleared his throat when I stopped at one. 

“That’s her.” He nodded. 

“Yeah.” Diana agreed. 

“Claire Becker? Twenty eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago.” Sam frowned. 

“But we don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after us?” 

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?” 

“Pete, Diana and I did.” Rhodes gulped. 

“Did you bust her? Any of you?” I asked. 

“I did, but I got her a shorter sentence than she was going to get.”

“It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn't find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body.” 

“What?” Diana coughed.

“Well, we gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest.” Sam explained.

”Of course it is.” 

“You guys go and have a glass of water. Keep an eye on each other. Ivy and I need to talk.” The other two went into the room behind us so Sam and I could have a chat.  

“Rhodes seems to be taking it well.” I smiled. “Ballard, not so much.” 

“I think Rhodes is taking it well cause of you.” Sam smirked, and laughed when I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think I don’t see the sparks. Dean would’ve already commented on it.” 

“He’s a man of the law.” I sighed. “I have more fake IDs than I’ve had birthdays.” 

“Maybe that’s the danger of it. Forbidden love-“ I slapped him across the head with a piece of paper. “Ow, okay, okay!” 

“You better not mention to this to Dean.” 

“I think he knows.”

We walked into an abandoned warehouse, my gun drawn just in case. 

“A firearm?” Rhodes scoffed.

“It’s licensed, so untwist your boxers.” I smirked. 

“So what exactly are we looking for?” 

“We’ll let you know once we find it.” Sam informed, then we split up, searching for a possible place to hide a body. I scaled the wall, knocking on it to try and find a bit of hollow wall that I could bust open-

“Sam!” I heard Diana yell, sounding scared. “Sam! James! IVONNE!” All three of us came running back, and we found Diana alone. 

“What happened?” I asked. “Did you see Claire?” 

“She, she was here.” 

“Did she attack you?” Sam questioned, looking around. 

“No, she was just… reaching out to me. She was over there by the window.“ There was a shelf blocking the window, so Sam and Rhodes got to work and moved it, revealing the word ‘ASHLAND SUP’. 

“I’m guessing the SUP started the word supplies.” I grinned, then followed the reflection to a wall on the other side. “Sam, did you bring the sledgehammer?” Sam held it up, so I took it and started cracking a hole the wall. I peered in, and nodded. “Yep. There’s something here.” Sam joined me and helped me tear the rest of the wall open, revealing Claire Becker’s body.

“God.” Rhodes breathed. 

“Something about this is bothering me.” Sam frowned. 

“You’re digging up a corpse.” Diana pointed out. 

“Digging them up is pretty par for the course. But why would a vengeful spirit lead us to her corpse?” We bent down to take a look, and Diana reached out, touching the necklace. 

“Does it mean something to you?” I asked. 

“That necklace. It’s rare, custom made on Carson Street.” She pulled out the same one from her neckline. “I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me.” 

“Now this all makes perfect sense.” Sam nodded, piecing it all together. 

“What does?” Rhodes frowned. “Apart from Pete killing Claire.” 

“Claire’s not a vengeful spirit, she’s a death omen.” I explained. “She’s not killing people, she’s warning them that they’ll die by the same hand she did. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is.“ 

“Detective, how much do you know about your partner?” Sam asked. 

“Oh my god.” Diana gasped. 

“What?” 

“About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product.” 

“Someone like a heroin dealer. Someone like Claire.” 

“I’m going to make a phone call, find out where Dean is.” Rhodes stood up, pulling out his phone and walking to another corner. “If we’re right, he could be next.” 

“Did you bring the Mustang?” Sam asked me, and I held up my keys. 

“Yeah.” I nodded, then turned to Claire’s body. “We’ll catch him.” 

Rhodes came back, looking freaked again. “Pete just left with Dean. Said he had to be transferred and just took off. He’s not answering the radio, either.” 

“We need to cut him off.” I grimaced, cocking my gun. “He’s in a county vehicle, so we need to access the lo-jack and find the route. Let’s go!”

I was driving with my pedal to the metal, with Diana and Sam in the back and Rhodes at the front with me. 

“Tell me.” Rhodes turned to me with a smile. “How does a girl like you end up in a job like yours?” 

“What do you mean, a girl like me?” I chuckled, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re smart, quick on your feet, obviously good with a gun. You got almost perfect scores on your LSAT and SAT, got into Princeton, practically a shoo in almost anywhere. You could’ve been great on the force, instead you’re hunting the impossible.” 

“Hunting the impossible seems like a better option, in my opinion.” We reached the GPS location of the county vehicle, appearing behind Sheridan just as he was about to kill Dean. 

“Pete!” Diana yelled. “Put the gun down!”

”Diana?” Sheridan gasped. “How'd you find me?” 

“I know about Claire.” 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” 

“Put the gun down!” 

“Oh, I don't think so. You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster.” 

“Why are you doing this?” She asked. 

“I didn’t do anything, Diana.” Sheridan lied, while I flicked down the safety pin on my gun. 

“It’s a little bit late for that.” 

“It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice.” 

“You had a choice, Pete.” Rhodes frowned. “Instead you killed an innocent woman. Then why Tony and Karen?” 

“Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything.” He reasoned. “It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked.”

“How many more people are going to die over this, Pete?” 

“There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just, just one more dead scumbag.” 

“Hey!” Dean barked, but backed away when the gun was turned on him. I rolled my eyes, ready to pounce, but with a gun trained on Dean it wouldn’t be wise.

“No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you.” I gave Diana a look, but she put her gun down. “Thank you. Thank you.” Sheridan turned to Dean, but then Diana quickly picked up her gun, shooting Pete in the stomach and making him fall, giving Dean time to roll out of the way. 

“Then why don’t you buy me another necklace, you ass?!” She hissed, before she was tackled herself, and Sheridan got up, instantly going for the gun, facing off Rhodes and Sam. However, Claire showed up behind Sheridan, making him turn around and gasp in horror as she smiled, giving me time to pull the trigger and shoot him in the back. He fell to the floor, more permanently this time, and Claire gave me a nod before disappearing. 

“Hell of a shot.” Rhodes breathed, glancing to me. 

“Thanks.” I smiled. We gave Diana time to mourn her partner, then she came back to us. 

“You doin' all right?” Sam asked, concerned. 

“No, not really. The death omen Claire, what happens to her now?” 

“Should be over. She should be at rest.” 

“So, what now, officers?” Dean asked. 

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed.” Rhodes explained. 

“You’d take care of that?” I smiled. 

“I hope so. But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless... I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.” 

“You sure?” Sam blinked. 

“Yeah, they’re sure, Sam.” Dean urged. 

“No, I mean, you could lose your jobs over that.” 

“Look, we just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night.” Diana sighed. “Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for the three of you right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.” 

“Do you know where my car is by any chance?” Dean asked. 

“It’s in an impound lot on Robertson’s.” She gave Dean a look. “No. You’re not stealing it.” 

“Of course not.” I smiled, patting the boys on the shoulder. “We’ve got my Mustang, and we’ll improvise. We’re good at that.” 

“Clearly.” Rhodes grinned, and Dean and Sam shared a look. 

“We’ll meet you at the car.” Dean smirked, dragging Sam with him. Diana had slipped off, leaving me and Rhodes. 

“This’ll be one heck of a story to tell.” 

“I bet.” I laughed, storing my gun in my arm holster. “Just leave out the part of the death omen and people won’t call you insane.” 

“That sounds best.” He chuckled. “You’re a really hard case, Rainer, you know that, right?” 

“I’ve heard. Well, I’ve better get going.” I smiled, then pulled my car keys out of my pocket. I stared at them, then raised an eyebrow. “Wait, I have my keys. If I have them, how are the boys in the-“ My focus was thrown off course by a pair of lips on mine, an arm wrapping around my waist. I dropped my keys because of the impact, forgetting about them and cupping the nape of his neck, the other arm hanging loosely around it. I could feel his smile, tilting his head-

“HAUN HAUN! YOU GOT THE GIRL, OUI OUI?!” I pulled away, turning to where Dean was. 

“DEAN WINCHESTER, I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” I yelled, then stepped back from Rhodes. “Sorry about them.” 

“Nah, you’re good.” He picked up my keys and gave them to me, kissing me again quickly and then my hand. “It’s gonna take a lot to forget you, Rainer.” 

“Don’t worry about that, Serge, nobody can forget me.” I handed him a note with my burner cell number. “Call me sometime. If I don’t pick up, I’m hunting another demon. And, uh, call me Ivy.” 

“Then call me James.” He took the note, pocketing it. “I’ll lead the cops off your trail. Just go, and don’t die, cause those two will need your help. You’re a smooth talker.” 

“I guess that solves the mystery of why I joined them in the first place.” I smiled. “See you around, James.” 

“You too, Ivy.” I walked back to the Mustang, unlocking it and getting in. 

“You boys are idiots.” 

“I like him the best.” Dean smirked. “Cool dude.” 

“Yeah, we love a rogue officer.” Sam teased. 

“Shut up, you two.” I groaned, flooring it and waving goodbye out of the window to James, who was watching me leave. 

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