#he fakes his own death and leaves with his body guard and best friend James

[ifyoucandaniel]

Just thinking fantasy au things????? Oh my god I actually have so so many ideas?????? Likeafunerall is going to be my downfall

Ac: likeafunerall

[somedayonbroadway]

Avengers au? 👀

Avengers AU

Okay, so this one is complicated 😂. Me and my friend @bexlynne never fully figured out which characters should go where and debated for a long time about who should be Cap. It was between Davey and Spot. I think we decided Davey.

So here’s a little snippet of the list right now with the characters we know for sure (also note that I have a lot of different Avengers AU ideas and all of the characters are switched around plenty).

Characters

Jack Kelly- Iron Man

David Jacobs- Capitan America

Racetrack Higgins- Black Widow

Hot Shot- Hawkeye

Spot Conlon- The Hulk

Katherine Plumber- Pepper Potts

Les Jacobs- Bucky

Crutchie Morris- Rhodey

Smalls- Spiderman

Romeo- Ned

Morris- Thor

Oscar- Loki

Snyder- Thanos

Mike- Quicksilver

Ike- Scarlett Witch

Medda- Nick Fury

Albert- Starlord

Elmer- Groot

Riddle- Doctor Strange

Specs- Vision

This is what I have 😂. I know there’s a lot left out. I’m gonna give you the basics of the original gang-

Jack Kelly

Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

He is a cocky, sarcastic, brilliant man who was orphaned at fifteen while studying at MIT and left a fortune by his father

He’s a womanizer when he younger.

He takes over his father’s company, continuing to design weapons and armors and make more money.

One day, while travelling to advertise his creations, he gets caught in a booby trap and is captured by enemy forces. He is severely injured and wakes up to find himself strapped to a car battery. The other man who had been taken hostage, a physicist, explains that the battery is the only thing keeping the shrapnel in his chest from reaching his heart.

Jack manages to escape, only because the physicist gives up his own life to protect him.

Jack is only twenty one when this happens.

Jack blames himself for the other man’s death.

All in all, Jack slowly becomes mentally unstable and more and more depressed after this incident.

Jack’s assistant, Katherine Plumber, a woman he’s always been infatuated with but never acted on, does her best to take care of him and help him with whatever he needs.

Jack does his best to push her away.

It doesn’t work.

Jack is in pain a lot as he makes himself a battery to keep the shrapnel away from his heart, knowing he can’t remove it without getting himself killed

He creates the iron man suit when someone threatens him and his company and him personally and tries to tell the media that Iron Man is his personal body guard, only for him to have a meeting with the press and come clean, blatantly stating, “I am Iron Man” to the public.

Jack never had a great relationship with his father, James Kelly (who he is in fact named after) and finds that his father was obsessed with this hero who died years ago called Capitan America

Jack spends his whole life trying to live up to this legend of a man as a child and it eventually becomes the real strain on Jack’s relationship with his dad.

When Jack first finds out his parents are dead, he tried like hell to find their murderer who shot them in their own car after running them off the road.

Eventually he gives up, believe it to be a random murder

When A Miss Medda Larkin approaches him about something called the “Avenger’s initiative” he turns it down immediately.

Once he gets dragged into it, as he likes to think (forces his way back in, is how it actually works) and he meets the rest of the team, he ends up forming a sort of makeshift family with them and does his best to make sure he is the one in the most danger at all times, wanting to spare the rest of their lives

He loves his team, even if he won’t say it.

David Jacobs

Was born prematurely and grew up small. He was malnourished and scrawny and short than everyone around him.

His little brother Les grew to be taller than him and stronger than him and David feels inferior to him, even though he loves his little brother like nothing else

David’s dream has always been to fight for his country.

Les gets to. David, no matter how many fake names he uses and how many tests he tries to pass, does not.

During examination that David is sure he’s going to be arrested at, he is approached by a scientist who asks him odd questions but eventually tells him that he’s going to go to war to defend his country. And David is ecstatic.

Though Davey is not the strongest, he proves to be the smartest and bravest and most worthy soldier at training camp. The reason he’s there is so that the scientist that approached him before can conduct an experiment on him and make him into a super soldier

Davey agrees

David is made into a super soldier, but instead of becoming an actual soldier becomes more of an add for patriotism.

Until one day he hears about a group of soldiers that are captures not far from the camp he’s set to entertain at.

Les is one of the captured soldiers

David goes against his orders and tracks down the hostages, freeing them all and finding his little brother strapped down to a table like some kind of experiment

Les is confused when he sees that his brother is actually taller and stronger than him.

They only barely manage to back it out of the collapsing building alive.

After this, Davey does get to fight against Nazi forces. He fights against several attacks with his brother as his right hand man and a woman named Peggy who he’s falling in love with

One of the missions that Davey is sent on with Les gets them into a moving train, which Les is shot in just before he falls out of the car down a cliff. He is reported dead.

David blames himself for this

Another attack ends with David in a plane, trying to save an entire city of people by diving down into the ocean. He talks to Peggy as he goes under, promising her a dance as neither of them have ever had the opportunity to slow dance with someone before.

He wakes up 70 years later

David is practically dragged into the Avengers.

He never truly gets used to the 21st century.

He and Jack do not get off to a great start

David is physically only three or four years older than Jack but Jack still calls him “old man”

David grows very close to the team he is given.

He’d protect them all with his life.

Racetrack Higgins

Antonio Higgins was orphaned in Russia when he was three years old.

He was found by an organization that took him and claimed him as their own.

Growing up, he was brainwashed and heavily trained in combat and in interrogation techniques.

Antonio Higgins was named after he was found. He doesn’t know his birth name.

Antonio was raised to be one of the most lethal Russian spies in history. He was basically psychologically programmed with false memories to ensure his loyalty to the organization

Race was brainwashed to believe he’d been a ballerina

Antonio is sent to the US to break into Kelly Industries and basically frame Jack for starting a terrorist attack.

Antonio is met with Iron Man instead.

Iron Man never gets a good look at him, but ultimately Antonio gets injured and runs. He lays low for a couple days only to be met with an ex-criminal now working for an organization called SHEILD. Who eventually becomes Race’s only friend and convinces Race to leave the people that raised him behind him.

After only a few months away from that, Antonio is recaptured and brainwashed all over again.

He’s sent to the US again only to be met with his only friend who held him break free of the control that this organization had over his mind and Antonio eventually is recruited by SHEILD as one of their best informants and combat specialists

Once Antonio becomes apart of the Avengers, Jack, who met him as a geeky assistant to Katherine a few months ago while undercover, calls him Race because he’s so quick

Race becomes close with the entire team, almost more so than the others as he’d grown up with no one to rely on but himself. Race is younger than Jack when he meets him. It amazed them all how much he’s been through.

Yes Race and Davey go through all the events of winter soldier and yes they are still like brothers when it’s all over, but Race discovers that it’s okay to have feelings for a man (even if that man isn’t David)

The first time Race can ever recall crying is after the events of Infinity War

Hot Shot

Luca Romano began as a normal kid.

He is orphaned when he was young, much like Race, only he has a brother.

His brother and him run away and join the circus where they are taken under the wing of a swordsman

Luca learns a lot about acrobatics and pickpocketing tricks.

This swordman eventually teaches Luca how to shoot a bow and arrow. This becomes Luca favorite trick and a talent he practices at for years to perfect.

He never misses.

A couple years after meeting this swordsman, Luca figures out that this man is a wanted criminal who he tried to turn over to the police

The man turned on him immediately and tries to kill him.

Eventually, the swordsman gets away and Luca’s brother follows him, stating that he’d rather have a warm bed and hot meal than the morals that Luca did

So Luca is on his own.

He stays at the circus and is known as Hawkeye, the world’s greatest marksman

Luca only ever wanted to help people. However, after a misunderstanding, he is perceived as a criminal and runs to not be taken into police custody

He’s seen hovering over a man who’d been stabbed and was bleeding out on the ground. He’d only been trying to help

SHEILD had an agent out at the time, watching the crime and going in to stop it. That’s when they found him. They brought him in. Luca thinks they’re arresting him. But they’re recruiting him.

They train him. Since he’s young, they basically help raise him. (He’s in his mid teens when they find him)

Eventually he’s sent out to find a spy that had broken into Kelly Industries. He’s told to eliminate him. And at this point, they’d taught him that sometimes bad people needed to be taken care of.

So he had every intention in doing it.

Until he met Antonio

Antonio reminded him of himself. Alone. Lied to. Nowhere to go. So he tried to help him. And they got close until Antonio was taken away

Luca makes it his goal to find Antonio (who is younger than him and reminds him of his little brother)

It takes about a year for that to happen

Once Hawkeye becomes an Avenger, Jack gives him the nickname “Hot Shot”

Hot Shot basically ends up being one of the most responsible avengers. He ends up having a family that only Race knows about and basically adopts Race as a little brother and teaches him the difference between good and bad

I love the Hawkeye/Blackwidow relationship

Spot Conlon

Sean Conlon is a brilliant scientist

During an experiment with a gamma bomb, he sees a teenager accidentally driving onto the range and rushed to save him by shoving him into a trench, but takes the gamma hit himself

He wakes up without a scratch

But that night, after one too many reporters manages to piss him off, he transforms into a big green monster, unable to control himself and destroying his own home.

Sean grew up an orphan. Passed from foster home to foster home. He grew up with issues already. Anger management issues, being one of them.

He’s horrified at the thought of hurting someone but has always been unable to control his fits of rage.

He tries to let his boss’s company take him in, expecting them to kill him if they can’t reverse whatever was done to him

After hundreds of tests and more torture than anything else, Sean tries to off himself, only to transform and have “the other guy” spit the bullet out of his throat.

Rather than try to continue fighting this curse he’s been given, he breaks out of the facility he’s locked in and focuses strongly on helping others rather than hurting them.

He travels all over the world and puts his scientific knowledge to use as he tries to cure diseases in other countries.

Sean avoids any relationship he can, not wanting to get close to people that he could potentially cause harm to

That’s why, when years later he finds himself being followed, he tries to scare the person off

Only to find a young man who escaped his every attempt at losing him

Though, he does manage to scare Race by pretending to get ready to transform. Race pretends not to be phased, even though he jumped

He gets dragged into the avengers and starts to fall for Race who is even more emotionless than he is.

Or at least, pretends to be

Lemme know what other characters you wanna hear about! What scenes or storylines you wanna hear about or see!

I do have other Avengers/Superhero AUs

Such as-

Jack as Thor and Race as Loki

The Spiderman AU where Race is Spiderman and Jack is Tony Stark

Another Spiderman AU where Jack is Aunt May and Race is Spiderman and Crutchie is Ned

Lemme know if you wanna hear about any of those!

For more AUs, check out my list and send me an ask 👇 lemme know if there’s any AUs I left out of my list!

Thanks for reading!

[mxtons]

        richard  madden  !    |        look  at  those  camera’s  flash  for  bellamy  maxton  (  he  +  him  )  !  the  thirty  year  old  television  star  is  famous  for  their  role  as  sir  erik  in  the  hit  show:  royals.  the  tabloids  portray  them  as  being  frivolous  and  pugnacious,  however  they  are  actually  very  insouciant  and  audacious.  seeing  them  always  reminds  me  of  worn  bomber  jackets,  dark  circles  under  bright  eyes,  and  empty  chinese  food  cartons.

hello  !  my  name  is  cait  and  i’m  always  late  to  the  party  so  this  is  no  surprise  !  i’m  Super  Excited  to  be  here  and  can’t  wait  to  interact  w  all  of  you  !  will  i  be  using  icons  ?  will  i  be  using  gifs  ?  who  knows  !  there  is  ...  a  Lot  to  bellamy  (  who  i  refer  to  as  bell  ,,,  he’s  not  Entirely  happy  that  his  childhood  nickname  got  leaked  a  couple  years  back  ,  since  it’s  what  his  sister  calls  him  ...  but  it’s  caught  on  and  he’s  rollin’  with  the  punches  !  )  so  this  is  just  a  general  rundown  !  i’ll  add  more  to  his  page  at  some  point  ...  but  i’m  impatient  so  here’s  the  need  to  know  !  TW  :  ABUSE  ,  ALCOHOLISM  ,  DEATH  .

one.

full  name  :  bellamy  james  maxton  . nicknames  :  bell  ,  maxton  ,  etc  . age  :  thirty  . birthday  :  tba  . gender  +  pronouns  :  cis  male  +  he/him  . sexual  +  romantic  orientation  :  bisexual  +  biromantic  (  not  public  .  ) birth  place  :  glasgow  ,  united  kingdom  . current  residence  :  santa  monica  ,  california  . spoken  languages  :  english  and  broken  bits  of  scottish  gaelic  . height  +  body  type  :  5'10"  /  athletic  . occupation  :  model  /  actor  . martial  status  :  divorced  . accent  :  scottish  ,  west  central  dialect  . sibling  status  :  middle  child  . faceclaim  :  richard  madden  .

two.

grew  up  in  scotland  ,  youngest  of  three  children  .  father  passed  when  bellamy  was  seven  .  his  father  was  his  idol  and  the  day  he  lost  him  was  one  of  the  worst  days  of  his  life  .  ever  since  then  he  had  to  deal  with  an  absent  mother  with  a  tendency  to  drink  herself  to  a  better  day  .  with  bell  the  spitting  image  of  his  father  ,  his  mother’s  fury  was  taken  out  greatly  on  him  .  the  abuse  continued  from  his  older  brother  ,  ignored  and  looked  down  upon  as  a  stranger  among  family  .  before  his  passing  ,  bell’s  father  dotted  on  him  and  spent  more  time  in  his  youngest  son’s  company  ,  something  his  oldest  son  has  never  forgotten  .  only  his  sister  was  kind  to  him  ,  someone  who  has  come  to  be  one  of  bellamy’s  favorite  people  in  the  universe  .

left  the  house  at  eighteen  against  his  own  desires  .  he  jumped  from  one  friend’s  couch  to  another  ,  eventually  leaving  the  country  at  twenty  with  a  friend  who  had  convinced  him  to  leave  .  it  was  an  impulsive  ,  drunken  choice  he  had  made  but  with  nothing  holding  him  to  scotland  and  a  tiny  interest  in  traveling  ,  he  got  a  visiting  visa  to  the  united  states  .

his  temporary  visa  was  to  last  a  month  .  he  stayed  with  friends  in  santa  barbara  ,  california  .  the  warm  ,  sunny  beach  was  his  favorite  part  and  despite  not  liking  the  big  crowds  ,  he  did  like  the  sound  of  the  waves  outside  of  his  window  .  he  partied  every  night  ,  though  kept  to  himself  unless  he  was  drunk  enough  to  socialize  ,  and  slept  throughout  most  days  .  there  came  to  a  time  where  the  guy  he  was  staying  with  demanded  some  type  of  payment  ---  bell  had  definitely  made  his  share  of  a  mess  .  it  was  then  he  dove  into  modeling  .  something  that  was  done  by  accident  ,  a  way  to  get  a  couple  hundred  dollars  ,  turned  into  a  short  lived  career  .

what  started  as  smaller  brands  ,  a  local  sunglasses  ad  and  hand  modeling  turned  into  much  more  .  he  hated  his  picture  being  taken  but  adored  the  feeling  of  becoming  someone  else  entirely  .  plus  ,  the  money  was  amazing  .  he  turned  his  stay  into  a  work  visa  ,  extended  through  the  year  and  went  where  the  money  took  him  .

shortly  after  his  twenty  third  birthday  ,  he  auditioned  for  what  would  be  his  first  role  .  it  was  through  contacts  ,  someone  he’d  met  while  on  location  for  an  ad  he  was  modeling  for  .  he  expressed  his  desire  for  something  more  when  they  mentioned  needing  someone  for  a  smaller  role  in  a  newer  tv  show  .  bellamy  landed  the  role  ,  though  it  was  short  lived  as  the  show  only  lasted  one  season  .  from  there  ,  he  knew  acting  was  what  he  wanted  to  do  .

modeling  has  somewhat  stopped  altogether  for  him  ,  giving  him  more  opportunities  for  roles  .  while  working  on  a  movie  a  few  years  ago  ,  he  met  a  woman  that  would  come  to  be  his  wife  .  they  had  a  whirlwind  love  ,  something  quick  and  detrimental  to  the  both  of  them  .  the  two  of  them  were  engaged  only  a  few  months  before  they  tied  the  knot  .  though  arguably  in  love  ,  they  just  didn’t  fit  and  the  paparazzi  tore  them  apart  (  rumored  affairs  ,  pictures  of  bell  with  other  woman  ,  etc  ...  ),  among  other  things  .  they  weren’t  good  for  each  other  .  a  fuckin  fool  ,  bell  didn’t  sign  a  prenup  and  she  took  a  lot  from  him  ...  he’s  still  bitter  about  it  ...  REFUSES  to  work  on  a  project  with  her  !  this  is  a  wanted  connection  but  everything  just  ended  badly  with  him  ,  they  shit  talk  each  other  ...  anyway  ...

seven  years  later  ,  bell  has  earned  dual  citizenship  between  the  usa  and  the  uk  and  spends  most  of  his  time  in  california  ,  having  an  apartment  in  santa  monica  .  he  owns  a  flat  in  the  uk  where  his  sister  lives  and  visits  when  he  can  .  he  has  a  black  cat  ,  lovingly  named  nightmare  that  guards  his  apartment  while  he’s  away  for  work  .  he  has  a  neighbor  take  care  of  her  ,  this  is  a  wanted  connection  !  

he’s  currently  on  royals  and  has  been  on  since  the  pilot  !  his  character  is  adored  by  fans  ,  mostly  for  his  heroics  and  charm  !  picture  ...  yeah  ,  yes  ,  picture  robb  stark  but  as  a  loyal  knight  to  his  king  !  bell  shares  the  desirable  bachelor  status  with  his  character  but  that’s  about  all  they  share  .  he  does  not  use  his  accent  on  the  show  ,  but  does  use  a  british  accent  .  he  loves  to  fuck  around  on  set  but  when  he  hears  ACTION  he  immediately  goes  to  work  !  publicly  he  would  Never  be  involved  with  a  costar  ...  but  privately  ?  he’s  probably  fucked  a  good  amount  of  them  ...  wanted  connection  !  same  with  people  from  other  shows  !  

personality  wise  ,,,  bell  is  ...  okay  .  he’s  fine  ,  not  the  best  person  to  be  around  but  he’s  never  fake  !  the  only  time  he  really  tries  to  be  different  is  with  the  press  /  in  interviews  but  with  other  people  he’s  himself  ...  which  isn’t  the  best  thing  ??  he’s  nice  ...  to  a  fault  ...  but  he  doesn’t  really  like  the  spotlight  ,  doesn’t  like  small  talk  and  loves  keeping  to  himself  .  not  good  with  emotions  or  soft  shit  ...  a  broken  man  who  Really  needs  therapy  .  of  course  ,  he  does  like  to  party  and  make  a  fool  of  himself  when  under  the  influence  ...  just  depends  on  the  day  !  

three.

wanted  connections  !!

ex  wife  .  explained  above  !

babysitter  for  his  cat  .  preferably  a  neighbor  or  someone  who  lives  nearby  .  probably  not  someone  nightmare  likes  ,  but  they  feed  her  so  she  tolerates  them  .

costars  (  of  royals  or  other  shows  ,  maybe  they  were  on  something  else  together  ??  )  who  he  slept  with  !

costars  he  either  got  along  with  ,  learned  from  ,  they  learned  from  him  ,  or  competitions  ??  someone  he  beat  out  for  a  role  ??

someone  he  was  involved  in  rumors  with  ??  

a  pr  girlfriend  ---  this  will  be  something  that  is  just  now  starting  ,  probably  in  time  for  awards  season  coming  up  !

anything  !!  hit  me  with  ideas  !!

if  you  like  this  i’ll  tumblr  msg  you  for  plots  !  i  also  have  discord  if  you’d  prefer  that  ,  just  let  me  know  !

[sebbytrash]

Polo

Summary - Marco is the sound of your heart, of your saviour. Its your downfall and your salvation. Marco is the last echoing edges of hope, hope in your heart.

Bucky is your partner in the team, a beautiful, deadly, partnership that is threatened when you go and fall in love with him. Bucky is your Marco. 

Pairing - Bucky x Reader

Warnings - Canon typical violence. Mild torture. Swearing. (6k words?) Bucky is a smartass. So are you. 

A/N - This was a request from @girl-next-door-writes from 300 years ago (I’m so sorry) that I’ve been working on a while. It got away from me a bit but I sorta likes how it turned out. A super massive thank you to @abovethesmokestacks for being my wonderful beta (I’m awful with grammar.) 

The ground under your feet feels tacky and wet, the darkness surrounding you gives no clear indication from what but you doubt it’s something good. The air is heavy with presence and death. You feel more than you hear your assailants approach, feel the air whip and the thrum of their energy as they throw themselves toward you. You easily twist out of the way, pivoting to ready for the next attack, planting your feet in a steadying stance. "Marco." You hear him say, having no need to raise his voice, he knows you'll hear regardless. "Polo," you respond instantly, tilting your head up a little as you do. He hones in on it, using it like tracking in the deathly darkness of the room. He shoots, the noise echoes around the room and your assailant slumps to the floor. He makes no other sound, no surprised gasp, no gargles, no last words and you know it's because Bucky hit him right in the head. Even blind, he had a perfect shot. You run towards him, run towards the exit, having gotten what you came here for and ready to get out. Bucky kicks down a door you hadn't seen and the light blinds you for a few seconds, shielding your eyes you follow him through only to throw yourself to the left when a fist flies towards you. There's three of them, two surrounding Bucky, one sizing you up before heading your way. Another spike in adrenaline alters your reality, slowing everything down and allowing a few, sweet seconds where you map your surroundings before it snaps back into place. You let him attack, dodging each blow with relative ease and allowing you time to quickly analyse his fight technique; he's strong but slow, each lunge costing him more and more and giving you the advantage. He sees what he wants to, a woman, the weaker sex, smaller than him and you use it to your advantage. He lunges again and you use the momentum to swipe his legs from under him. He careens forward, unable to control the fall and you manoeuvre around so you can drive a knee into his back sending his face into the concrete below with a force that knocks him clean out. "Marco." You hear the inflection, know what he's going to do. "Polo." One of Bucky's attackers flies towards you, shoved at you by him. You swing up and around his shoulders, using your bodyweight to drive him down like the other, hearing the unmistakable crunch of shattering bones as his body goes slack under you. Turning towards Bucky, you see him standing over the final guard who’s slumped on the floor, a beaten mess. He grins at you, wide  and teethy and only slightly manic, his body a steely calm whilst yours is beginning to shake from the adrenaline. This is his comfort zone, chaos and battle, and it pulls at those feelings. The ones you stuffed down deep, in a place they can't affect you or your partnership with him. You made a helluva team. "Let's get outta here. I'm fucking starving," he says to you, patting his stomach like it's normal to be thinking of food surrounded by all this.

Of course he's thinking about food. He's always thinking about food.

You tend not to dwell, or try not to anyway. Even so, there are quiet moments every once in a while, quiet moments where those thoughts that you ignore stand in a line and demand attention, even just for second. You’re having one of those quiet moments now, here in your room with no one around to distract your neurons from standing in that neat line and marching one by one straight to your heart.

James fuckin Barnes. Master assassin. Cheeto eating champion. Heart ruiner.

You had tried, feebly...half-heartedly, to not fall for him. He was your colleague, your partner and your closest friend. The team jokingly called you husband and wife not knowing how that itched at your skin like you were being eaten alive by the sheer want for it. They didn’t know, of course, your steely nerves and unwavering focus meant you never found yourself caught unaware, or caught staring. You hoped.

Your door flies open and in barges the man himself, a hand over his eyes and the other reaching out blindly, “Put the girls away, Y/N, I’m coming in.”

“You’re already in, genius. And the girls are safely stowed.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics, bite back the smile in response to his following smirk, “One of these days you're gonna get an eyeful and I’m not paying for that therapy.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m hoping for.” He flops down on your bed beside you and pulls your legs onto his lap and rests his hands on the curves. You do your best to control your muscles, feel the threads of your jeans catch fire under his touch and your whole body fight to sigh. Stupid, stupid heart.

“Can’t you go annoy Steve?”

“He’s on a date.” Bucky wags his eyebrows and you can’t help but laugh in response. For an expert marksman and decorated soldier he sure is a dork.

“A date? With who?”

“A civilian, apparently.” His thumb moves in absent circles, catching on the seam on the inside of your thigh and the feeling travels with it. It’s distracting in a way you can’t afford to be and forces you to pull your legs up and under you. He watches you and folds his hands on his lap, loses the signature half-smirk from his face and turns towards you.

“You ever think about doing that?” He looks at you from the side of his eyes, clenching and then loosening his fists.

“Dating a civvie? Nah, seems like too much effort. Too much room for error,” you answer, imagining all the ways it would go wrong, all the missed dates and overrun missions. All that room for heartbreak.

“Sure, yeah, but dating in general even?” His hands now hold all the answers to his questions, or so it seems. It surprises you and terrifies you all at once, the nature of the question.

“Uh, yeah, I guess I do,” you start, not knowing how to finish when the truth is so much more complicated, “But what is it Steve says, hard to find someone with a shared life experience. Ha! Oh, and finding the time?”

He nods at that, tilts his head like he gets it and you suppose he does, “That’s true. He has a point but I dunno, don’t you ever feel like there’s something meant for you?” He sounds so earnest and your stupid, stupid heart beats an anthem for the tone of his voice.

“I like to think there is, yeah. Or hope there is? I dunno, man, how do you even meet someone?” You spiral a bit just thinking about it all, the nature of your life now limits your options in a way you never really considered and the further you go down that rabbit hole, the more you realise you're destined to end up alone. Maybe you need to get a cat.

“Who says  you haven’t already met them?”

“My very lonely vagina says so.”

“Talk to me when it's been 20 years, my friend.”

“Yikes,” you say, and then because you can’t help it, “Does it even still work?”

“Wanna find out?” He wags those eyebrows again and shows off all his teeth.

“Let’s play a game of fuck off...you go first.”

Bucky’s back is to you when you enter the kitchen and you take a second to just appreciate the width of his shoulders and the solidness of his body. No ropey muscles or coil cut abs, he’s all power and sturdiness like he was built that way. He sets out a Coke on the counter and digs around some more.

“Polo,” you say, and he knows, reaches back in and tosses a Coke over his head and directly into your waiting hand. Perfect aim, like always.

“You know, it’s fucking creepy when you guys do that,” Sam says from behind you, earning a half guilty glance over your shoulder that only makes his eyebrows travel further. The look on his face suggesting maybe he’d seen you do all that appreciating but he says nothing further, even attempts to hide the smirk and you pretend your oblivious.

“Jealous is a nice color on you, Zazu,” Bucky says, throws a Coke Sam’s way and leans on the counter like his muscles are made of jelly but you know different, see the coils in his muscles like he's waiting to pounce.

Something glints in Sams eyes, he stares a moment too long and you just know this, whatever it is, is not going to go well. His face falls into a smile, eyes lazily roll from your toes and up and says, “Mmm, hmm. Maybe it’s time you traded the fossil for a younger model, Y/N.”

Bucky’s expression falters for a millisecond, eyes going blank before the lazy smile snaps back into place and you’re left to question if you ever saw a difference. Left wondering if you’re projecting all that hope you refuse to acknowledge and it’s filling in gaps for you.

“Aren’t younger models usually an upgrade? Besides, my girl has better taste than that.” His girl. He says it like it’s no big deal, like he has any right to force that thump from your heart like you didn’t spend hours boxing it in.

Sam scoffs, “You think you’re the upgrade?”

“As nice as it is to have you fake fight over me, I’d rather rip off my own ears than have to listen to you two compare dicks.” You roll your eyes at the both of them and wander off to find a quiet place to control your heart and fight the urge to goddamn swoon at my girl.

Sam laughs, the chimes in heaven laugh and earns a real smile from you in return, holds your eyes a few more seconds and then leaves. Bucky watches this but fails to laugh too, huffs a bit at you when he flops down beside you on the couch, side by side from toe to shoulder.

“Ever heard of personal boundaries?” you say and nudge against his shoulder, he uses the nudge to slip his arm around yours and tug you even closer.

“But I’m so cuddly,” he deadpans, widens his eyes and slow blinks at you.

It does its job, loosens a laugh that you tried to bury, “You really are.” Bury deeper.

He's quiet a while but his leg is trembling along yours and there's a tension in his lines that means he’s got something on his mind. You wait it out, knowing he’ll say it if he wants to, knowing that maybe he just needs the company and the closeness to chase away the demon.

“You like him?” he finally says into the quiet, like random words of a puzzle with the corners.

“Like who?” you ask, because what the fuck?

“Sam.” Sam? Oh. He thinks… the look and the smile. Thinks it’s for Sam. Thinks it’s for Sam and it’s why he’s gone quiet, bothered. Hope fractures through that steely wall around your heart.

“Nah. Nah I don’t like Sam,” you say, pushing the slightest inflection so it’s there if he wants to take it. A small, most hesitant step.

“But you like somebody,” he says it more than he asks, the leg sinks like concrete into the sofa.

“Yeah, I uh, like somebody.” He smiles and tucks his chin, the small smile that leans into hope and it’s enough for now. It’s enough to say it. Suggest it even, leave room for more later if that’s what he wants. A crack in the wall.

The softness of your pillow is like a depth of comfort you never knew until you reached the compound. A level of richness in the sheets and how they glide against your skin is just the most wonderful way to start your day, and you thank Tony for them on an almost daily basis. (In your mind, at least.) You stay there, on the edge of sleep and coast along the consciousness of enjoying the comfort but still under enough to feel your bones like lead and muscles wade through water.

It takes a few minutes for you to fully surface, and few minutes more for your brain to register that it isn’t morning and the light you feel through your eyelids if the Netflix screen playing on a loop from your abandoned binge with Bucky. Bucky... You sit up when you remember and unintentionally startle him too, find yourself on the receiving end of a soldier on auto-pilot and pinned firmly against the wall, the firmness of his arm pressed across your chest and a drowning fear in his eyes. The irises swim in it, roll around in that fight response and then clarity fogs in.

“Y/N. I’m- Shit, I’m so sorry.” He throws himself back and away till he’s pressed up against your headboard. “I can’t believe I… I almost…”

“Bucky. Stop.” His eyes snap to yours at the firmness of your tone, “You did nothing, okay? I’m fine.”

“I hurt you.” It drags up your bones, the pain in his voice, his every fear come to life in one small half of a moment.

“Like hell you did,” you say again, “You reacted, we all do it.”

“Doll…” he starts, ready to argue but you’re armed to the teeth with reasons and boy, is he in for it.

“What about that time I pulled a gun on you in Texas? Or when I kicked out your knee in that awful bar in Edinburgh? Did you blame me?”

“That’s different.”

“Is it now? Explain that for me.”

“I could have really hurt you.”

“And what, I couldn’t have hurt you because… I’m a woman? Here I thought we were equal in this partnership.” You don’t believe that’s what it is but you say it anyway, point out the flaws in his so called logic.

“That’s not what I meant…” His tone tipping, an opening for a win.

“Oh, really? Enlighten me, of wise man of men.”

“Shit. Fine. I get it. Consider me shutting up now.” He gives you a tight smile that gets wider when you match it with your own.

“Good choice.” He laughs at that, reaches out to haul you up beside him and tuck you in close.

“What would I do without you?” He says, dropping his chin on top of your head and grips along your ribcage.

“Die, probably.”

He laughs again, pokes a bit at your ribs before, “I mean it.”

“Me too.” He loses it.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs, the carefree joy on his face lights up all the nerves in your finger tips followed by that resounding thump in your chest. His fingers reach out and blindly clutch at your arm, the metal plates hot against your skin.

It’s been a week since you put a crack in the wall and neither of you have pushed any further. It feels like stunted progress and that hope your heart was feeling is starting to falter. Maybe you misread the situation? Maybe you projected all that tension right onto him and he really is happy with how things are?

A part of you wonders if you should just admit it, tell him how you feel and hope that he’s there with you, but the stronger, more damaged part of you insists that you shouldn’t. It’s a terrible, wonderful thing, these feelings.

“Oh man, I fucking love this show,” Bucky says, wiping the stray tear from his eye and shooting you a bone-melting smile.

“Yeah, I kinda figured that after your obnoxious laughing almost blew an eardrum,” you respond, rolling your eyes and chewing on your lip to keep from smiling.

“My laugh is not obnoxious.” He flicks your shoulder and crosses his legs at the ankle on your coffee table.

“Whatever you say, Janice.”

“Hey! I understood that reference.”

“Well done, dinosaur. Finally catching up on the last 900 years?”

“I’m not too old to kick your ass,” he warns, waggy finger and all.

“I’m terrified,” you deadpan, roll your head to the side and do your best blank stare. He laughs again, that awful, obnoxious, wonderful laugh. You hate it.

You love it.

It's tempting, in these moments, to run your fingers through his hair or along his exquisite jaw line just to see what he would do. Just to see. Your fingers ache with the want, ache and itch inside your clenched fist to feel his stubble scratch against your skin and to see if his shoulders were as sturdy as they looked. He must see your clenched fist because he wraps his fingers round it and gently pulls each finger free, running his thumb over your knuckles like he’s trying to soothe the ache he gave them. It’s gentle, caring, rubs along that hope again just enough to light a fire under it.

“I was thinking about what we talked about, you know, about dating.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mmm, what would you say if I was thinking I might be ready to dip my toe in that particular pool.”

He sits up, drags a hand down over that stubble and then over his mouth, a sudden tension in his spine that makes you want to will the words back into your mouth. You wait, because there’s not much else you can do now that they are out there and you’ve yet to master time travel. You wait, seconds, minutes, years?

“I think… that you deserve that. You deserve it all, and that you should go for it.” Why does he sound so weird. His tone sounds like its scraping the gravel off the payment.

“I should?” You literally can’t stop yourself.

“Yeah, you should,” he says, still facing away from you when he adds as casual as he can muster, “Someone who’s not so broken.”

You feel it when the words hit your chest, splinter inside of you, the rejection only secondary to the knowledge that he feels like he's broken. That he doesn’t know that you're broken too, that he’s the person that's all your glue and pins and duct tape.

“You think you’re broken?” you whisper, finally, and stretch out a hand till you can touch his back, try not to flinch when he moves away from you.

“I know. I can’t even sleep beside you without trying to throw you through your wall,” he says, stands up to put some distance between you, still not looking you in the eye.

“That wasn’t your fault…” you insist, but he cuts you off.

“Of course it was my fault. Do you even hear yourself? Making excuses for me already.” His tone is angry, incredulous even, and he finally looks at you, lets you see the torment in those eyes. The hurricane of pain that swallows up all the color and life in them.

“Bucky, you're being ridiculous.” The desperation is leaking into your voice, bleeding into your energy. The whole situation is spiraling and you’re lost on a solution. You can’t lose him.

“I’m not, Y/N. I’m being…” He stops, his pleading eyes slowly shutting off till they are void and you know where this is going, see it in his bones as he regresses back to the soldier, his gait as he heads to the door and hunches like his stomach is coiling, “I’m not that for you. I’m sorry.”

The door is closed softly, but it feels like the sound is reverberating inside your skull.

It's been more than a few hours since the incident, as you are now referring to it. You know that at some point you'll have to face each other, either talk it out or play in that narrow avoidance of it all but some part of you knows it's broken between you now. Things that can't be unsaid, feelings that can no longer go ignored and the stone in your gut gets heavier with each passing minute, each passing second. It's a ravaging sort of torment that feels like there's something clawing its way out of your soul.

Like maybe Bucky is forcefully taking back that piece of you that's always been his.

The wallowing is cut short by a summons from Fury, a directive for a mission that will provide a merciful break from all the thinking. The mission is for you and Nat alone. You wonder, vaguely, if Bucky will even notice your gone.

You take your time gearing up, long enough that Nat starts to eyeball you in a way that suggests she knows. She doesn't, of course, but she certainly knows something up. It must be exhausting to always be so observant.

“You good?” she finally asks after you repack the same weapon three times. You hum a yes and nod but fail to meet her eyes. “Finally tell him?” Nat knows, she's always known because of who she is and what she notices but you've never outright admitted it but right now you just need to say it out loud and make it real.

“Yeah. I did. He said he's too broken for me.”

“Seems like that might be your choice,” she simply says, pats you on the shoulder and leaves you to your thinking and rethinking.

She’s right, of course. It should be your choice, and Bucky making it for you is damn insulting. You knew all his demons and he knew yours, it’s actually why you made a lot of sense together. If he doesn’t feel the same way then he should just say that and not deny you the right to make your own choices like he somehow knows better than you do. It's not the 1940’s anymore.

The more you think about it, the angrier you get. The partnership you have was based on mutual trust and respect and now he's going to throw that in your face. The strings in your brain holding all your sensible bits together finally snaps and you abandon your gear in favor of stalking through the building till you’re face to face with Bucky’s door. You knock once, sharp, and then enter.

“Come in?” He freezes mid-motion, presumably on his way to the door and gives a look that braces for trouble. Well, good. At least he knows.

“I’m going to say something and you don’t get to interrupt me or disagree or say anything at all and then I’m going to leave, okay?” He must hear it in your voice because he merely nods, apprehension tightening the skin around his eyes.

“I’m so mad at you, Bucky. Not because you don’t want to be with me. No, that I can take and will take because it’s ok, but if the only reason you don’t want to even try is because you think you are too broken and not because you don’t have feelings for me then you are not the man I thought you were. That choice should be mine. Mine, Bucky.”

You slam a hand down on the table between you, fix him with a look that lays you bare, “The only one you need to make is whether you want to be with me. Because anything less tells me that trust and respect between us was false. It’s not the 1940’s anymore.”  

The shock on his face is clear enough that he never thought of it that way, you can tell and so you soften it a bit, “Look, this wasn’t some whim for me. I’ve thought about this, you, a lot, okay? I’ve seen all there is to see, none of it scares me. I don’t love you in spite of these things, I love you because of them.” Your fingers clench at each word, the impact of the words you can never un say but you don’t want to now. The rest, well, that’s up to him.

You turn to leave and when you reach the door he calls out, “No. Don’t. Whatever you have to say can wait.”

“Polo,” you say, or really you spit at them, the blood in your mouth coloring their shirts but the pattern is kinda nice so you give them a bloody smile. They don’t like it when you smile.

“We’re going to get the information, one way or the other. You may as well make it easy on yourself,” your assailant says, gripping your chin with forceful fingers, waiting, “No? Fine, the hard way it is.” He hits you hard across the face with a closed fist, the pain pulls a whine from you but you don’t mind that so much. They’ll never get the information they want so they may as well know your in pain.

The mission with Nat wasn’t going exactly to plan. (Ha!) The details were sketchy, but somewhere along the way you’d gotten caught and were currently being lightly tortured by two goons who were doing their honest to god best, but really, you’d had worse. You’re just biding your time, concentrating on packing away that pain and letting your adrenaline fray away your edges. He’d come. You knew he would.

They try taking turns for a while, one guy favors a punch to the gut whilst the other prefers the face or neck, (and really, getting punched in the neck is fucking sore).

“What the fuck is Polo!” the taller of the two screams at you, his patience all but gone replaced by a manic sort of look that says this might go from bad to worse very, very soon.

“Do you think it’s a person?” the other asks, checking and rechecking the door, showing his hand.

The taller one looks at you, scoffs, “You think someone is coming for you, Princess? No one will find you here.” He throws in a few knuckles to drive his point home. There’s a wavering in your heart and you start to wonder if maybe he’s right. Maybe this is it for you, a slow, lonely end.

Nat got out, right? She had to.

“We could draw this out, make it real painful for you,” he says, unsheathing a knife from his back and trailing it along your jaw, “Or, we could make it quick. One precise blow to the heart.” He taps it against your chest, the glint in his eye tells you that he means it.

“Polo,” you say, low and determined, wrap your lips around the word and let it be the thing that gets you through, because even if it’s the last thing you say it’ll mean something. Mean everything.

He’s furious, the tall man, that you are not cowering from him like you should and he decides, you can tell, decides that you are worthless and it’s time to finish it. He fists the knife in his hand, readies himself for the blow and you watch him all the way, wanting to meet it with a fierce defiance of life then… everything goes black. It's all consuming, the black, Taller and Smaller yell for each other, yell at each other to find the power but you know this darkness and you welcome it. Soul reaching for soul.

“Marco.” Symphonies composed from less feeling.

“Polo.” Two shots ring out, followed by two distinct thuds.

Hands find your knees and then your face, bracing and whispering over your cheeks and down to your bonds, his forehead rests against yours as he loosens the ties and a whimper escapes you. The profound relief of having him here, of feeling him against you vastly outweighs the relief of being alive but he doesn’t know that, murmurs soft “You’re safe now” and “I got you” till he has you in his arms. You white knuckle the front of his gear all the way back to the jet.

Sam sees you first, eyes go a little wide as he once-overs you face which tells you how much of a mess Taller made of it, “Ready to go home, kid?”

You try to smile but it comes across like more of a grimace, bloody mouth and split skin so you settle on a nod. Bucky carefully sets you down on bench next to him, draws you up under his arm and keeps a tight hold on your waist. His fingers tremble every few seconds but you can hardly tell against the aches. He doesn’t say anything more except taking inventory of your injuries or making sure you’re somewhat comfortable all the way home.

You wish for a snide remark or joke more than anything else.

Nat sits on your other side gripping your fingers in her hand like she's trying to mold them into her own, doesn’t look at you or question you, simply stays. As close as Bucky will allow, that is.

A residual panic surfaces during a dream, makes you run and run but never get away. The panic must have bled through the dream because the next thing you know there’s a hand stroking your face and whispering, “Shh, Y/N. It’s just a dream.”

You slowly blink awake and up at him, blink again because the sight of Bucky standing over you with such affection is threatening your reality more than the dream. You try to sit up and wince, the reality of the pain that earlier adrenaline had hidden is in full focus. Sharp focus. He helps you sit, careful, slow touches that feel alien to you. You stare at each other for a few beats, the air swimming with all the words that have been left unsaid.

“What’s the verdict?” you ask, just to puncture the silence that feels like it’s pressing on your skin.

“Two cracked ribs, hairline fracture to your jaw but mostly just bruises. A lot of bruises.” His jaw tightens with that last part but he doesn’t say anything further, even though he wants to. It’s part of the deal, the partnership, that there’s no blame or guilt trip when someone is hurt. It’s why it works. Worked.

“We’ve had worse.” You look down at your hands because it's the only part you can see, look at your scraped knuckles and raw wrists from being bound, see the clean fingernails, wonder if it was Bucky who cleaned them.

“We should talk,” he says, drops lead right into your stomach.

“Is it absolutely necessary to kick a girl-”

“You were right,” he interrupts

“-when she’s down?” you finish and then catch up on what he said, “Huh?”

“You were right, I was making a decision for you that I had no business making.”

“Oh.” As much as you want to hope, there’s this nagging little doubt, eating away at the back of your mind. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying what I should have said on that couch, I’m saying I’m a fucking idiot…” He reaches for your hand, presses his thumb up and over your aching wrist and looks at you with such soft eyes, “I’m saying, I’m in love with you. That I wanna dip my toes too, if you’ll let me.”

It’s everything you hoped for, all the soft nudges and beats in that heart filled deep with the hope but now it’s there, that nagging doubt and so you press, have to really. For your sanity. It takes another second for you to align your thoughts and Bucky starts to thrum, pulls on his bottom lip before, “You seem… underwhelmed.”

“It’s just… Is this one of those cliches where the person got hurt and now you feel obligated in some way?” You say it, even as your heart fights to take all the letters back, to go a few seconds and relive the best bits till it’s fit to burst.

He gathers up himself till almost his entire top half is on the bed beside you, rests his forehead against yours like he did a few hours ago and threads his fingers along your jaw, “No, no, god no. I’m sorry, so sorry that you have to think that.”

He takes a steadying breath and looks at you, smiles in that soft way again, “I came looking for you, earlier. After you handed my ass to me, that is,” he explains, the smile turning a little wry, “I came to apologise but you were gone. Friday can vouch for me.”

“I don’t need Friday to vouch for you, Bucky. If you say it, I believe it.” And you smile, finally, let yourself hang out on all that hope turned fruitful. It’s the most weightless a smile has every been, like it’ll float right off your face a skyward. He matches it with one of his own, the two of you pressed together with these marshmallow grins and it’s so nice, so right.

“So, we’re doing this?” he asks, just to be sure.

“You’re not worried about hurting me now?”

“Of course I am,” he says, “But I figure I can’t do any worse than you do to yourself.” He gestures at your body vaguely with a smirk that reaches up all the way up to his eyes. You laugh and then wince (Hello ribs!), and then laugh again, take it as the offering it is. That he’s willing, if you are, even if he’s scared.

“Then I guess we’re doing this.” You say, tilt your head like an offer and slip a hand up to curl in the neck of his T-shirt. He takes the hint, presses his mouth to yours in that soft way he seems to have now, lets you decide how far you want to push that split skin which is nice, sweet even, but you grip the tee tighter and pull him right in to that kiss with you, swallow that hum he makes and feel his whole body bend to match your pace. Feel the warmth and the fullness of his lips, feel that warmth spread right to your bones, right to your marrow. You take a second to just feel it, to gather it up and let it flavor your heart, keep it right next to all that hope. He can’t, or doesn’t, hide the desperate edge to his lips, the tremble in his hand on the back of your neck or the shaky gasp of breaths you both take in between touches. You pull back when the low ache becomes loud, when the tangible heat snags in your chest and you know there’s nowhere for it to go.

He looks at you, does nothing to stifle the heat in his gaze or the intent in that smile, finally lets his head fall against you between your clavicle and shoulder, “You know how to pick your moments for being out of action, doll.”

“Me? You’re the one who waited till the 9th inning to make a fucking move,” you shoot back at him, hiding your smirk for as long as you can.

“Well, one of us had to play hard to get, y’know?” He rolls his head to catch your eye and smile up at you. It’s ridiculous. You love it.

“4 years of foreplay wasn’t enough?” It was for you, damn. It really was.

“Jeez, when you put it that way. Pants off, Bing.” His shoulders hunch at his own joke, and this man is in charge of weapons. Dork.

“Time for another game, Hide and Go fuck yourself,” you laugh, and then because you can, place a kiss on his cheek and then his mouth.

“Mmm, I like the sound of that game, but I won’t be fucking myself.” He throws you an exaggerated wink, one that you meet with a flick to the eyebrow “Ouch!”

“Dork.” The tone of your voice makes it sound like a compliment.

“And now I’m your dork,” he says back, sincere. Final.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

War of Attrition: Chapter 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: Best friends with Steve Rogers, renowned Howling Commando, and married to one James Buchanan Barnes, your life wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as it could possibly be in the middle of World War II. Then you fell from a train in the Alps, and everything changed. You spent nearly 70 years as a tool of Hydra alongside your beloved, though your past with him was more often than not forgotten. Natasha, Steve, and Maria reel at the [second] assassination attempt of Nick Fury. Hydra makes moves to cross the Black Widow and Captain America off its lists. Warnings: Swearing (always), death, violence, guns, blood, dismemberment Word Count: ~3,767 A/N: “Quotes and italics” is Russian. Just italics is memories/thoughts.

Masterlist // Book One // Book Two

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“You can tell Handler Pierce you let him get away from you, then.”

He went stiff against your back and you knew that had struck a nerve. “We still have eight hours.”

You frowned. “So it’s on me to find him again.”

There was a pause, then, “No, it’s on us.”

Steve’s POV

Steve watched through the large glass window as a team of nurses and doctors worked to save Nick Fury’s life. He registered the door behind him opening and a second later Natasha was by his side looking absolutely distraught.

“He gonna make it?” she asked, her tone calm even though her eyes were wide and scared.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered honestly. Three slugs to the chest. Straight through the bulletproof jacket. The mystery shooter with the metal arm had done a lot of damage.

“Tell me about the shooter,” Natasha said quietly, as though talking too loudly would somehow jinx Fury’s chances of making it out alive.

“He’s fast. Strong. Had a metal arm.” 

Natasha went silent next to him, but he didn’t see the look of horror on her face. “Ballistics,” Natasha said, question implied in the demand.

“Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable,” Agent Hill informed her. Leave it to her to stay serious and calm in this situation.

“Soviet-made,” Natasha said quietly, eyes transfixed on a point Steve couldn’t see.

Agent Hill looked over at her, surprised. “Yeah...”

“Was there a woman with him?” Natasha asked. It was clear her question was directed at Steve.

He couldn’t figure out what emotion that was lacing her voice. Steve frowned, gaze flicking to her then back to Fury. “No. I only saw them man with the metal arm. No other hostiles.”

Movement in the surgery room pulled their attention back. Nurses and doctors were yelling back and forth, but even Steve could tell something had gone wrong. Nick Fury was dying. He watched as they pulled the crash cart over then injected epinephrine into him.

“Don’t do this to me,” Natasha whispered.

Still no pulse.

Steve watched detachedly as they declared a time of death, his focus on the woman beside him. Natasha was reeling from the shock.

Director Nicholas J. Fury was dead.

Your POV - Less Than An Hour Ago

The Soldier jumped off the roof and landed right next to you. He rolled to diffuse the worst of the impact and was on the back of the bike within a second of hitting the pavement. You took off the moment his butt hit the seat. He must have been worried about making a hasty getaway because he was facing forward, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Faster. My pursuer isn’t someone we want to fight if we can avoid it.”

You didn’t dignify the demand with a response and simply sped up instead. The bike was quiet as a ghost in the night. Working in the darkness felt way more comfortable than attacking in broad daylight had.

“Is he dead?” you asked once you were sure you were a safe enough distance away from any potential threats.

“You tell me. Three shots to the chest, most likely. He was very careful not to give me a line of sight for a clear shot, but I was able to extrapolate his position from the way the blond man was talking to him. I know I hit, but I can’t be sure he’s dead unless we go back.”

You shook your head, filing the mention of “the blond man” away for further questioning. “I was too far away to activate backscatter imaging. I’ll have to trust your abilities.”

“It would have been better to have you there,” he said quietly.

You shook your head. “Someone needed to have the bike ready to go. You’re a better shot even when you can’t see through the walls,” you said bluntly. It was true. You were great in short-duration hand-to-hand combat or as a shock trooper (literally), but he was a better shot and lasted longer in extended fights simply because he had greater strength and stamina. “I’m a better driver anyway,” you added as an afterthought. “We need to return to Handler Pierce. Our mission is done.” We’ll be returned to cryofreeze, you thought, but couldn’t bring yourself to say. You hated the cold place- feeling your blood freeze in your veins before you lost consciousness. They’d gotten better at the process over the years but the very idea still sent chills down your spine. It was for the best, though. You and the other Soldier didn’t function properly if they didn’t freeze and wipe you between missions. It was your own fault for being defective.

It was almost as if the other Soldier could read your train of thought. He gave you a gentle squeeze and you hated the way your body relaxed into his arms. You were on mission. Relaxing could kill you.

But it felt good, so you let it happen.

You felt him rest his head on your shoulder and you tutted half-heartedly. “At least help me keep a lookout for danger,” you said quietly.

“As you wish,” came the surprisingly subdued reply. He usually wasn’t this easygoing. You supposed if there was one time to care less about your behavior it would be after you completed a mission and were about to be wiped anyway. He lifted his head and you could tell he was carefully scanning his surroundings for any potential threat, though you both knew you’d spot anything before he did.

You and the Soldier returned to the bank that they’d been keeping you in, but they didn’t wipe you. Brock Rumlow was waiting with a small group of agents, though. You were to take orders from Rumlow if Pierce was absent.

“Change of plans. You’re to wait here on standby until we receive our next orders. Your mission was a success and Secretary Pierce is pleased, but he anticipates resistance as he moves forward with Project Insight,” Rumlow explained.

When you and the other Soldier simply stared at him he sighed and reached into his bag. Both you and the other Soldier tensed, expecting him to draw a weapon, but when he retracted his hand the only things he had were a few plastic-wrapped packages. He threw them at the two of you and you caught them with ease though you eyed them dubiously, obviously expecting a trap.

“They’re food. Eat them.” Without another word he turned and left, leaving you and the other Soldier mostly alone in the bank vault. They didn’t close the door, but you knew there were at least ten men keeping guard just outside.

It was an order, so you and the Soldier obeyed. The packaging on the front revealed them to be protein bars. They weren’t bad, exactly, just too chewy and vaguely fake-tasting. There were three total and you had to practically shove the third one down the other Soldier’s throat. He didn’t want to eat it and insisted you at least split it, but you knew he needed the sustenance more than you did. He was the only one doing hard work today and he always burned calories faster than you anyway.

“Eat it,” you hissed, trying in vain to shove the protein bar at him.

“No, you should have it,” he insisted, stopping your arms with an ease that always infuriated you.

You glowered at him, but he didn’t look cowed at all. “If you don’t eat this then I won’t eat mine at all,” you threatened.

He finally glared down at you and you felt a thrill of victory run through you. “Fine, you stubborn creature.” He snatched it from your hand and ripped the package open, letting the silver and white wrapper flutter to the dirty bank floor. In a nearly feral move he opened his mouth wide and ripped the bar in half with his teeth, glowering malevolently at you as he chewed.

You tilted your head to the side, considering the childish action. It was... cute? The thought made you frown and you bit sullenly into your bar, doing your best to ignore the angry stares the other Soldier kept throwing your way as he unwrapped the second bar and began eating that, too. The two of you skirted around the edge of the room, staying as far away from the chair in the center of the room as possible. The two of you never strayed more than a few feet from one another and eventually settled in an alcove near the door. You switched your eyes to backscatter every few seconds, though the thick vault walls made it hard to see more than a few feet past it in any direction. 

“Sleep.”

You looked over at the other Soldier, face nearly free of expression minus the slight upward tilt of an eyebrow. 

“I’ll sleep after. We’ll take turns like we’re supposed to on stakeout,” he amended quickly.

You stared at him for a moment longer, relaxing against the wall and trying to fall asleep as quickly as possible. Both of you had the ability to sleep at a moment’s notice, needing rest wherever and whenever you could get it.

You surprised the other Soldier by leaning over slightly, closing the few inch gap between you, and laying your head on his shoulder. The only inclination he gave of having noticed was how still he went the moment your cheek touched the leather of his black jacket.

You fell asleep not one minute later, the sound of his steady, quiet breathing lulling you to sleep.

You weren’t sure exactly how long you’d been asleep when Rumlow came barreling into the room a little later.

“Get up! You!” He pointed to you. You were completely awake and on your feet within a second of him stepping into the vault. The other Soldier was on his feet, too, and he was tracking Rumlow with the calculating eyes of a predator. “You’re coming with me. Just you.” He stared at the other Soldier. “You stay here. If things don’t go as planned I’ll be back for you.”

The other Soldier nodded, though his eyes were burning. The two of you worked better as a team and it was clear to you that he hated the idea of you being separated. You spared him a single glance over your shoulder as you followed Rumlow out of the bank vault, heart skipping a painful beat at the look on his face.

They loaded you onto a quinjet and flew you to New Jersey. Why they wanted you there was beyond you, but you knew better than to ask questions or second-guess orders.

You sat quietly in one of the seats on the jet, ignoring the Hydra agents that wisely gave you a wide berth. The ride was shorter than you’d been expecting and before you knew it they were marching you off the plane, Rumlow barking orders at you as you walked into the bombed out remains of an old military camp.

The surroundings looked familiar, but the base itself was reduced to rubble and you wouldn’t have been able to recognize what it once looked like even if you could access all of your long-buried memories. “Scan the debris in this area. Backscatter. You have that, right?” When you nodded an affirmative he pointed to a large pile of debris that looked to be part of an old building. It was a relatively huge hole in the ground. It would take you a while to search everything, even with your eyes.

“Am I looking for something specific?” you asked, voice raspy and quiet.

Rumlow nodded, a smirk dancing at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. Bodies. Two. One male, one female.”

You nodded your understanding and walked away from him, gracefully dropping down into the hole, stepping off slabs of cracked concrete and brick as your eyes scanned every inch of the debris you could find.

It was what you spotted with your normal vision, though, that gave you pause.

You looked up, your faintly glowing eyes searching for Rumlow in the gloom. You spotted him immediately and sprang gracefully through the rubble, coming to a sudden halt in front of him that had him flinching and reaching for his gun. “Fuck, what is it?” he asked, eyeing you warily. His hand hovered nervously above his holster.

“Tracks leading out of the debris. Not standard tac boots. Civilian. No tracks leading in.”

Rumlow cursed. “How many? Just the one set?”

You shook your head. “Two pairs to begin with, then one. The smaller pair seemed to be stumbling, then they vanished. No body. Likely the owner of the larger set carried them off site.”

Rumlow swore loudly enough to give the nearby agents pause, his fist connecting loudly with the nearest half-destroyed wall. “Pierce is going to be pissed. He sacrificed Zola trying to kill those damn rats.”

Zola.

The name rang out in your head, bouncing inside your skull until it was a deafening cacophony that blocked out all other thoughts.

You and I vill do great things, Fräulein.

You vill cooperate if you vant your precious man to live.

I haf made you better, Fräulein. You should be thanking me.

I gave you life. You will stomp Hydra’s enemies out of existence.

You head spun as the nasally, slimy voice filled your mind. Rumlow was too caught up in his own problems to notice, but you felt yourself nearly lose your balance before your hand shot out to steady yourself on an upright slab of concrete.

Gone.

You tried to take a deep steady breath, gulping down air greedily.

Gone, your mind insisted again. The source of that voice was gone, though you weren’t sure how you knew that voice belonged to the man Rumlow mentioned. Perhaps it was the same way you knew over a hundred way to kill a man without a weapon but couldn’t remember your name, how old you were, or where you were born.

The thought bolstered you more than you thought possible. You stood up straight, a deep sense of calm overtaking your senses. Up until that moment you hadn’t realized how tightly coiled your muscles were. Hadn’t felt the dark feeling swirling deep in your gut, wrongess permeating your entire being. Your body felt lighter than it ever had and you found yourself smiling almost manically. It was sheer luck that you were facing the wall and none of the Hydra agents noticed. You were sure they’d send you back to the chair if they saw you displaying emotion too openly.

“Asset.”

By the time you turned around to face Brock Rumlow, your face was as impassive as ever.

“You’re to rendezvous with the other Soldier at Secretary Pierce’s estate. Ensure you’re not seen entering the premises. He’ll give you instructions there. Your motorcycle is in the jet you came in. My boys are unloading it now. Dismissed.”

The moment he uttered that last word you were moving, eager to put this place behind you. It gave you chills and stirred that dark place in your mind that you’d long learned to ignore because it only brought more mind wipes and hours of painful torture.

A few hours later, Washington DC

The other Soldier had arrived before you and it was too risky to talk about anything in Pierce’s home, so you said nothing about Zola. You and the Soldier sat amongst the dark shadows in the dining area. Neither of you moved and it was only the faint glow of your eyes in the darkness that alerted Alexander Pierce to your presence. He shut the refrigerator door, eyes flicking between the two of you quickly.

“I’m going to go, Mister Pierce,” the maid said from the hallway. Your and the other Soldier’s eyes flicked to the doorway, though neither of you moved an inch. “You need anything before I leave?” she asked. It was pure luck she hadn’t rounded the corner and seen the two of you sitting there. Your gazes swiveled back to Pierce, looking for any orders about the situation. Neither of you had been spotted coming in, of course. You weren’t the deadliest assassins in history for nothing.

But you’d been ordered to his house and you wouldn’t leave unless Pierce told you to.

Without taking his eyes off the two of you, he spoke loudly enough for the maid to hear. “No, uh. It’s fine, Renata. You can go home.”

“Okay, night night!” she called happily, exhaustion just barely tingeing her voice.

You used your backscatter imaging to watch her throw her purse over her shoulder and walk out the front door. You flicked your vision back to normal, eyes falling on Pierce once again.

“Want some milk?” Pierce asked the two of you, turning his back on you to grab a glass from the cupboards. The two of you barely blinked in response as he sat the glass down on the counter and poured himself a small amount. He shrugged when neither you nor the other Soldier said anything. “The timetable has moved. Our window is limited.”

He took a long sip of milk and walked around the kitchen island, coming to sit across from the other Soldier. You eyed him from your spot atop the raised fireplace hearth.

“Two targets, level six. They already cost me Zola. I want confirmed death in ten hours,” Pierce ordered.

“Oh- uh, Mister Pierce, I...” Renata turned the corner, her gaze first falling on Pierce then to you and the other Soldier. The two of you stared at her, gazes flat and uncaring as she shifted nervously, mind struggling to process what it was seeing.

Pierce turned in his chair to look at her, his gaze not giving anything away.

“I, uh... forgot my phone...” she said nervously.

You glared at her, knowing what came next. She saw the two of you with Handler Pierce. Any second now he’d give the order and-

“Oh, Renata,” Pierce sighed, picking up the pistol on the table. “I wish you would have knocked.”

Before she had a chance to react Pierce fired two shots into her chest, sending her reeling backwards, crashing to the ground in an unsightly heap. She was dead before she hit the carpet.

“Take care of that before you go, would you?” Pierce said as he returned the gun to the table. He stood and walked over to the sink, washing his hands of any gun residue.

When he turned around and the two of you were still sitting as still as statues his gaze turned hard. “You have your orders. Dismissed.”

By the end of the next hour, Renata was in pieces in the bottom of the Potomac, fingers cut off at the ends and teeth pulled for good measure. If she was ever found, they’d never find all of her, much less be able to identify her.

You and the Soldier holed up in a Hydra safe house. You sat in front of a wall of monitors, eyes flicking to each one in turn, taking in all the information you could.

Two targets. Off the grid. Targeting Hydra operations.

Steven Grant Rogers and Natasha Alianovna Romanoff.

Deadly, experienced, driven. A dangerous combination.

“If this were us, what would we do?” you asked, glancing over at the other Soldier, who was watching the screens carefully, too.

The Soldier’s gaze flicked to you, blue eyes bright and thoughtful with the challenge at hand. “Project Insight is their goal. They’ll aim to take the Triskelion. It’s too heavily fortified to attack head on. If I were them I’d look for an in. Someone that can get them past security.”

You nodded and watched the data streams and video feeds flicker across the screens. “Who are they going to go after?”

The other Soldier flicked through the tablet in his hand, likely searching through the database of Hydra agents. “They were on the Lemurian Star. They’ve likely realized Sitwell is Hydra. He has the clearance needed to get them on the base.”

“Sitwell?” you asked, turning to look at him.

“Agent Jasper Sitwell. Level 7 SHIELD Clearance. Working for Hydra since he was 17. He’s been deep undercover in SHIELD for years.”

You looked back to the screen, watching as the facial recognition software searched any and all sources for your targets. “Expendable?”

“Targets are a level 6. Every agent except Handler Pierce is expendable,” the other Soldier said without hesitation. Even you and me. The words hung unspoken between the two of you.

“We’ll continue surveillance in shifts. Track Sitwell closely. I have copies of his timetable and I’ve already entered it in my system. If he makes any unscheduled stops or moves in an unpredictable way, we’ll know he’s been compromised. At that point he’ll lead us directly to our targets.”

The other Soldier nodded in understanding. “And if they don’t try to use Sitwell?”

“They have to go to the Triskelion if they wish to stop Project Insight. If it comes to that, we’ll be there waiting.”

He leaned back against the headboard, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Go to sleep. I’ll take the first shift.”

He shook his head. “No.”

You turned away from the screens to glare at him. “Why not? It’s your turn.”

He tilted his head and regarded you for a moment. “I’ll sleep on one condition.”

You bit back a sigh. “What is it?”

“Come sit with me.”

You froze, staring at him with mild shock. You looked at his seemingly relaxed pose, the way his legs were propped up and open, the space between them inviting. You quickly weighed your options.

“You promise you’ll sleep?”

“Yes.”

You looked at the screens again before you sighed and walked over to the bed, climbing dutifully on top and placing yourself directly between his legs. Your back was to his broad chest so you could watch your work, thankful that your eyes made it possible to see even the tiniest of writing on the screen.

The Soldier sat stiffly for a moment and you had a second to fear that you’d done something wrong, but a second later his arms were wrapping around your waist and his forehead was resting against the back of your neck.

You tried to ignore your pounding heart, choosing instead to focus on the task in front of you. “This is acceptable?”

The only response you got was a quiet content noise followed by deep, even breathing.

Next Chapter

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[rocky-alex]

A Hunter’s Life For Me

Summary: Hunting demons, who’da thunk it? But fake FBI, a possessed parent and iron teapots will do that to a girl, and so that’s where I ended up. I’m not on the list of most wanted, by either friends or enemies, but I choose my own life whatever anyone says. I had to break a heart and leave home to do it, but honestly? I wouldn’t change it for anything.

A/N: I’m back! Took a while for the idea to take shape, but here it is. Hope no one thought I’d end up a one-hit wonder, because I love writing and want to keep at it. Motels was updated very often, but I can’t say the same for this one unfortunately. This one will be a bit different from Motels because it’s in first person POV, but I hope you’ll all like it anyway :)

Chapter 1: Oh papa, I’m in fear for my life

Word count: 2143

Pairing: You will have to wait and see :P (mostly because it’s not decided yet)

Warnings: A little violent and dark

Dad,

I know that this is the last thing you were expecting, and I know that you must have a lot of questions. I want to try to explain everything to you, but chances are you won’t believe me. To anyone sane enough this story would sound crazy, and the person telling it even more so. Before I begin I want you to know that I am so sorry for what’s happened, what you’re about to find out. It broke me, to do what I did, but please understand that I had to do it.

Before you start to wonder, I have to tell you that mom and Maria aren’t coming back. They’re gone. There’s no point in looking for them, because you won’t find them. I won’t be coming back either, and this is the last you’ll ever hear from me. I’m making sure I can’t be tracked, I will essentially be dead to the world. Please, don’t go to the police, they won’t be able to help you.

So, this all started three weeks ago, when two men came knocking on our door…

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” one of them said, holding up an FBI badge. Special Agent James Ferguson, yeah right. “We’re here investigating the two murders that happened down the road from here, and were wondering if we could ask some questions.”

“You mean the demonic killings that the police have no idea how to solve?”

“Ho- How did you…?” the taller of the two trailed off, not finishing the question.

“How do I know it was demons, or how do I know about demons?”

“Both, I guess.” I looked around on the street. The middle aged couple next door was just going out for a walk, so I gestured for the two men to come inside.

“Get in.” They stepped in and I closed the door behind them. Crossing my arms over my chest I spun around to face them.

“It’s not important how I know about demons, just know that I do.” The two men looked at each other, shrugged, and then turned back to me.

“Okay, fair enough,” the shorter one said.

“Good,” I held out my hand. “Jules Collins.” “Dean Winchester,” the short one, Dean, shook my hand, and gestured to the man beside him. “My brother, Sam.” Sam shook my hand.

“I’d say pleasure to meet you both, but it’s really not, under the circumstances.”

I don’t know if you remember exactly, you only met them once, as far as I know. They weren’t FBI, like they made themselves out to be. They were… Hunters. And not the usual deer-hunting kind. They’d come to town because of a local newspaper article that caught their attention. Strange deaths here in town, you remember the first one. It was the old man, Mr. Gulbert, down the street from us. Granted, it could’ve been drawn up to his age, but it, and the one after, was strange enough to draw the Winchesters to us.

I led them into the living room and gestured for them to sit down. They did, if a bit warily, caught off guard by my insight to the situation.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” they said, in perfect sync. I snorted and walked to the kitchen, the pot having just finished brewing. I poured three cups, not bothering with either milk or sugar. Back in the living room I put the cups on the table and sat down in the armchair across from the Winchesters.

“So, just to get things out on the table, you’re hunters, right?”

“Yeah.” It was Dean who answered, his brother preferring to silently blow on the coffee before taking a big gulp. “Could you maybe at least tell us how you know about hunters?”

“… No.”

“Why?”

“Not relevant. What you two need to know is that the demon doing the killing is about half an hour away from walking through my front door.”

You remember last year, when I was out of the country? I told you I’d be travelling with friends, which in a way was true. But it wasn’t a sudden desire to see the world that had me up and leaving. I was being followed, and I felt like leaving was the only way to keep you, mom and Maria safe. On the road I met some people who could help me, and they told me I had a demon after me. It took some convincing, but eventually I believed them. They killed it, and we parted ways. I didn’t feel safe telling you about it when it happened. After all, I was of age, and could leave if I wanted, and it seemed like the best way.

Even before the murders here at home started, I knew what was going on. Cliché as it sounds, there’s no easy way to say this. It was a demon who was killing people, and I knew who it was. See, a few weeks ago I noticed something was off about mom.

“Wait, what?”

“I know who the demon is,” I explained. Dean looked downright flabbergasted.

“How?”

“I saw the signs. For example, she’s the biggest tea drinker I’ve ever known and has this teapot made of solid iron. One day she stopped using it, wouldn’t even go near it.” “So who is it?” Oh right.

“My mother.” At this both of them just stared at me. “What?”

“Nothing, just that you’re basically telling us that your mother is the one we have to go after.” I stood up and started pacing the room. It was a big deal. In fact, I hated this whole situation, whether I acted like it or not. Had Dean and Sam not shown up I would’ve had to take care of the demon inside my mom myself. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or angry that I wouldn’t have to do it. I didn’t even know if it was really my place. But it seemed to have landed on my shoulders, since no one else in the family knew about demons, let alone how to destroy one. I knew enough to make it go away, but there was absolutely no guarantee that the demon had preserved my mother’s body.

“I know I am, but this can’t go on. Two people have died so far, and the rest of my family can’t be on the list of other potential targets. The demon has to go.” I turned I back on them, not wanting them to see my face. Hiding what I felt was something I’d learnt after the first demon incident in my life, but it didn’t mean it always held.

“Well alright then,” Dean said. I heard them get up from the couch and spun around.

“What else do you know about this demon?” Sam asked.

“It’s arrogant, dominant, narcissistic. Not openly, but I noticed. I would’ve chalked it up to good old psychopathy, aside from the fact that it was like a switch flipped and she became a completely different person. I guess demons aren’t always as good at acting as they probably should be, or they just don’t fucking care.”

“Do you know why it stayed here?”

“What do you mean?” I frowned.

His question caught me by surprise. It hadn’t occurred to me that maybe that wasn’t normal demon behaviour to stay with the family of the host. But this one did. Had it just up and left, none of this would have happened, and right now I wish it had, despite losing mom in the process. If it had, Maria would still be here. What the Winchesters ended up explaining, it crushed me…

“What do you mean they ‘usually’ move on?”

“Demons need a body to be able to operate topside. Without one, they’re a cloud of black smoke. The fact that it stayed here, in your mother, means it’s got business to finish in this town, and we need to know what it is.” “What are you…” I trailed off, seeing the answer on their faces. “You’re actually going to torture it? How?”

“You can find out, if you want,” Dean said, and I looked at him. “But I doubt you do. It’s basically wearing your mother as a suit, which means you’d see…”

“I’d see you torturing my mom. You’re right, I don’t want to see that.”

“But you’re still letting us do it?” I looked him in the eyes.

“Yes.”

Picking up the mugs from the table I walked back to the kitchen and put them in the sink. Glancing at the clock, I saw my mom- the demon, would be home in about twenty minutes. Sam and Dean were standing in the kitchen doorway when I turned back around.

“You’ve got twenty minutes until it’s back.” Dean looked at his brother.

“Sam?”

“Right.” Sam left and walked out the front door.

“Where’s he going?”

“We need to prepare.”

“Prepare” meant drawing devil’s traps on the floors and ceilings, lining every door and window with salt and blessing gallons of water. They asked to use the basement for the torture. I’d do anything they asked at that point. At the last minute, it occurred to me to ask about mom.

“Dean,” I said, grabbing his arm just as he was following Sam into an adjoining room to hide until the demon came through the door.

“Yeah?”

“Is my mom… Is she going to make it?” He turned to fully face me and looked me right in the eye.

“I think you know the answer to that, Jules.” I clenched my jaw, waiting for him to say it. He sighed. “If the demon hasn’t already killed her, the torture could.” That was the closest I were going to get, so I let go of his arm. He pushed the door almost closed behind him and Sam, and I went about business as usual. It wasn’t long before I heard my mother’s car in the driveway.

What happened next was gruesome. We hadn’t counted on the demon having the foresight to have brought Maria, and as soon as it stepped through the door it knew something was wrong. The Winchesters actually managed to trap the demon and get it down to the basement. But not before it killed Maria.

I didn’t follow them down, partly because when the demon realised who had trapped it, there wasn’t even a hint of mom left. Another reason was to keep watch of the house. For all we knew, Dean explained, the demon could have backup in other families. Unlikely, but it could be. I heard it though. I heard the screams, the crashes and… the laughter. The demon was laughing. It loved the idea of it’s “meatsuit’s” daughter hearing everything that happened. All of a sudden the whole house started to shake and rumble. Then everything went quiet.

Sam and Dean came up from the basement, hands covered in blood. Sam didn’t look me in the eye, and instead left the house immediately. Dean’s eyes followed his brother until the door slammed behind him. Then he turned to me. I didn’t say anything, just waited for him to say it.

“Your mom didn’t make it.” I let out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding.

“Was it the demon?” I’d expected him to look away, ashamed, but he didn’t. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t talk, at first, and we realised this demon had been around a long time. It was… enjoying itself.”

“Yeah, I heard…”

“We did find out one thing though. The demon was after you.” My eyes widened.

“Why?”

“No idea.”

“Oh, great.” I tossed my arms in the air. “What the fuck do I do now? I can’t stay here.”

“Why not? The demon’s dead.”

“If you honestly think I could keep living here with my dad after all this then you’re damaged beyond imagining.” He didn’t object to that.

The demon was dead, but so were mom and Maria. Sam and Dean were leaving after getting rid of the bodies. The police couldn’t find out what happened, and they were good at covering up what they’d done. However, all this left the problem of what the hell I was going to do next.

I’m sorry, dad. I couldn’t stay, and I hope you understand why. Twice now demons have come after me, and I can’t let them get to you too. I don’t know if me leaving will keep them away from you, but staying definitely wouldn’t. It’s my fault, what you’re facing now, and I’m so sorry.

It was the best day of my life when you and mom decided to take me in and adopt me. I couldn’t believe my luck! I’ve loved all three of you since that day, and I’ll never stop. I hope you can forgive me.

Love,

Jules

@carryonmyswansong

Note: Anyone else want to be tagged, let me know :D

[deskgirl]

Fic: Devil of a Job

[[Rise of the Guardians Fanfiction

AU: Undercover/Dark Guardians: Kozmotis is an undercover DEA agent, infiltrating the Man in the Moon’s network of crime. The various organizations are headed by Sandman, Toothiana, North, and Bunnymund. As Kozmotis poses as Pitch Black in an attempt to stop MiM and his spread of the dangerous drug, Dream Dust, his only help comes in the form of a genius serial killer known as Jack Frost. All credit goes to KSClaw.

Summary: Sequel to “Face to Face With the Devil,” (which has recently been revised). Kozmotis is presented with a seemingly impossible task, but with the help of the devil, he might pull it off.

Warning: Descriptions of gore and violence.]]

     Kozmotis let himself into his darkened apartment. He slid the deadbolt into place and slumped against the door with a sigh of exhaustion. When he’d agreed to work this undercover mission, he’d had no idea what the job would require—how drained it would leave him each day. He felt like he wasn’t getting anywhere. He had no idea where the Dream Dust was being made or how it was being moved. Sandman was very careful what he let his lackey “Pitch Black” see or know about the Man in the Moon’s operations. And now this meeting… He made his way to the kitchen without bothering to turn on the lights. He didn’t feel hungry, but he knew he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

     “You’re finally back,” a voice said from the dark.

     Kozmotis threw himself backwards and felt his hip connect with the counter. Then he recognized the voice. He wished he didn’t; it had begun to haunt him in his sleep lately.

      “You’re not supposed to be here, Jack. You’ll blow my cover,” Kozmotis said. He reached over to turn on the light above the kitchen sink.

      Jack Frost sat at the breakfast bar, the infamous serial killer with the face of a child. When Kozmotis met him several months ago, at that packing building by the docks, he’d thought he was just a boy. There was an innocence to his face despite the blood coating his hands and the terrible things that came out of his mouth. But Kozmotis knew better now: he was too intelligent, too world-weary. He was no child.

      Jack was wearing medical gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints in the apartment, and he was playing with one of the larger kitchen knives from the knife block Kozmotis kept by the stove. He smiled and set it down when he saw Kozmotis tense up.

      “Don’t worry, officer, I’m not here to kill you. You went to see my friend Sandy today, didn’t you?”

      Kozmotis nodded.

      “What did he want?”

      “He wants me to kill you,” Kozmotis said. “Man in the Moon’s tasked him with making you disappear, and he gave the job to me.”

      Jack looked practically delighted by the news. “Interesting. Either Sandy has more faith in your abilities than we realized, or he’s just that desperate. Perhaps he doesn’t think you’ll succeed at all; you’re just bait for a hook. To your credit, though, you did a great job the other week. With that fire? You have a real talent for arson, officer. It’s too bad you lack the passion for the career. I can’t imagine Sandy would just throw you away. Maybe it was Moon’s order to put you on the job, then. You know, like a test. Let’s hope so. Could mean good things for you.”

      “You seem to be taking this all rather well,” Kozmotis said. “But what am I supposed to do?”

      Jack became very still as he thought about it, and his words were weighted when he spoke: “You could always try to kill me. I wouldn’t hold it against you, although I think we both know how it would end.”

      Kozmotis glanced down at the knife in front of Jack, then shook his head. “Come on, Jack, you agreed to help me because you think I’m smart. I’m not going to make a dumb move like that. Right now, you’re the only support I have. I’ve got no contacts in law enforcement because it’d be too risky. I need your intel and your protection. I don’t stand a chance otherwise. Whatever goes down between us after this mission is over, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

      “I look forward to it,” Jack said.

      Kozmotis felt a shiver run up his spine. Jack really did sound like he was excited by the notion. “In the meantime, I have to find some way to fake your death well enough to convince Sandman and the Man in the Moon. And they’re both scrutinizing crime lords who’ve dealt with plenty of cheats, liars, and narcs. I’m a DEA agent, not James Bond.” Kozmotis scrubbed at his face with a hand. He felt stretched thin.

      “I don’t see why you’re so concerned,” Jack said.

      Kozmotis gave him an incredulous look.

      Jack stood on the bar stool, climbed up to sit on the breakfast bar, and then swung his legs over so he could face Kozmotis. He was wearing sneakers that didn’t look to be his style or size. They likely served the same purpose as his gloves. “You don’t need to worry about a thing, because I’m going to handle this. I’ve always wanted to fake my own death. It’s so cloak and dagger. Plus there’s nothing more interesting than our own mortality, don’t you think? How much we can endure and how easily we can die in turns. And how history forgets some of us but makes immortals of others.”

      Jack looked at Kozmotis conspiratorially. “No one is ever going to forget me. I’ve made sure of it.”

      “I can think of a few people who would prefer to forget you.”

      “Oh? Like you?” Jack teased.

      “I meant like the Man in the Moon.”

      “That’s the best part, don’t you see? I’ve been nipping at Moon’s nose lately, so he’s been nipping at my heels. If he thinks I’m dead, he’ll stop worrying about me, and he’ll drop his guard, which is good for the both of us. Moon thinks he’s the big dog in the neighborhood. Likes to bark and snap at me, but he doesn’t realize he’s baring his teeth at a wolf. By the time he realizes his mistake, I’m gonna have my fangs in his neck.

      “Now, you just leave my death to me. I’ll handle all the details. In a couple of days, you’ll receive a call from me with specific instructions. Do everything I say to the letter, and don’t waste my time with questions, understand?”

      Kozmotis hesitated, then nodded.

      “Good.” Jack grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl, and hopped off the counter.

    “Oh, you’re running low on milk,” Jack said before he stuck the apple in his mouth, undid the door lock, and let himself out.

    Jack’s plan, when he finally called to tell Kozmotis about it, was rather clever. If grotesque. Jack gave him a list of materials to acquire and the best way to obtain them without leaving a trail for the police to follow. The list included a shovel.

    Kozmotis called Sandman when the job was done, and they arranged to meet in a parking lot with minimum security that evening. Kozmotis had expected a limo or something. Instead, the car that drove up and parked beside him was a sleek 1930s Bugatti 4-seater all in black with gold trim and tinted windows. A classic luxury car.

    Kozmotis got out of his vehicle and walked over. A window rolled down to reveal one of Sandman’s assistants. He sat on the far side and used the assistant as a mouthpiece, like always.

    “Hello Pitch. I hear you have good news for me,” the assistant said. They wore gold eyeshadow that made their eyes seem dark and delicate, and matching gold lipstick.

    Kozmotis reached into his jacket slowly and withdrew a packet of photos. “Proof’s all there, including the negatives.” He handed it over to the assistant who opened the packet and handed the individual photos over to Sandman.

    Kozmotis remembered his shock when Jack had shown him the pressurized, stainless steel vat. “It’s for beer,” Jack had explained. “Well, not today it isn’t. Today it’ll be for sodium hydroxide. You know what sodium hydroxide does, right? You’re DEA. You know what cartels like to do with bodies. I hope you remembered that disposable camera I asked for.”

    Sandman flipped through the photos. A before photo of Jack Frost laying on cold, cracked cement. His face was blank, his eyes wide and pale as ice. He was much more animated in the next photo: the one of him trying to climb out of the vat with his hands tied while a clear liquid was poured on top of him. It was just hot water. Jack had been pleased when he saw the steam show up in the photos. “It has to look like it’s boiling hot. Lye baths take forever to dissolve bodies if the liquid isn’t heated properly.”

    The photo after that was far more progressed. That photo had real sodium hydroxide and a real dead body, although it wasn’t Jack’s, and it wasn’t much of a body anymore. Kozmotis had been understandably upset about the body. After all, he didn’t know how Jack had gotten it, and Jack wouldn’t say. He just smiled. Explained that it was important that the body be the same build and weight and height, and such things weren’t easy to find. “He’s already dead. You can’t do much about it now,” Jack had pointed out before having Kozmotis help him lift it into the vat.

    The next photo was in a new location: somewhere with hills and grass and nothing much else in sight. Kozmotis and Jack had drained the vat into stainless steel barrels and driven them out of the city where Kozmotis had been put to work digging a pit deep enough to pour all the evidence. It had taken a long time for everything to seep down into the ground. Fine bits of bone had been left behind. Kozmotis had broken them up with the blade of his shovel before filling the pit in. But not before he took the last photo.

    “This is officially the worst thing I’ve ever done,” Kozmotis had said. “If I was going to be involved in someone’s murder,  I should have just killed you for real.”

    “Oh come now,” Jack had replied, “I’m sure you’ll do plenty of equally horrible things in the future. Give yourself some credit! And besides, if it eases your conscience, keeping me alive keeps you alive, and the longer you live, the more people you may save down the road. Which, frankly, feels like a bit of a Sisyphus and the boulder deal to me, but you go ahead and waste your short life however you want.”

    The assistant leaned towards Sandman as he spoke in a hushed voice. “I’m impressed,” Sandman’s assistant said. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Pitch. I assume you were careful about getting and disposing of everything you used?”

    “Meticulous,” Kozmotis said. “If you could, please, apologize to Miss Toothiana for me in advance. I’m willing to guess she’ll be disappointed I didn’t save any of his teeth, but I wanted to make sure there wasn’t any DNA evidence left behind.”

    Sandman raised a curious eyebrow as to what that meant, so Kozmotis elaborated, “People talk. Even people who are good at keeping quiet. I know that she had some sort of history with Jack Frost, and she showed me her trophy jewelry when you sent me to deliver some information about transport dates to her office.”

    Sandman whispered to his assistant, and they spoke: “I don’t approve of Toothiana’s hobby. Teeth are as good as bodies if the police find her collection. You did the right thing.” A pause as Sandman handed the photos back to the assistant to reseal in the envelope. “I’m impressed, Pitch. I’m sure the Man in the Moon will be, too. I’ll send this along to him. He’ll be glad to know that little thorn in his side is gone. By the time you get home, you’ll find payment for the job in your personal account. Keep your phone on hand at all times: you might receive an important call soon. This was big, Pitch. I’m proud of you.”

    The assistant bowed their head slightly and rolled the window up, signifying the end of the conversation. Then the Bugatti reversed and pulled away, leaving Kozmotis to stand in the dark of the parking lot alone. He looked out at the congested downtown streets, the old hotels with their classical architecture standing beside sleek new business buildings, and then he looked up. The moon was barely a sliver, like an eye cracked open to peek through its eyelashes coyly at the world, spying on all the little people down below. Kozmotis felt like it was looking right through him. He felt small and thin and transparent. He realized with a sudden clarity that he might make it out of this alive in the end, but he wouldn’t be the same person when he did. He was already changing. Already someone different. And there was no going back now.

[myself-and-the-marauders]

Wait For Me: Young!Remus Lupin x Reader // Part Two

Request:  Could you please write a fanfic about remus being a mess bc of the full moon (totally nervous/moody before and injured/tired after) and the reader being worried and comforting him? lots of fluff but kinda in sad way.

A/N: Okay, so, I might have gone just a bit over board with this one...

This is part two, and the final part of Wait For Me. I apologize for taking so long to get this up. It was supposed to go up, like, five-ish days ago but it was written so half-assed that I didn’t want to put it up. I still don’t think it’s my greatest work, it could totally be written better but I feel like this was the best I could do right now. (I’ve been writing this part for over a week, help me.)

Enjoy! ♥

Word Count: 2700 (Yeah...I know.)

Warnings: Fluff, Angst

Every time he left it hurt, knowing something could happen to him at any moment and I was powerless to do something about it. He's been consistently lucky, never coming back with serious injuries, but I knew that one day, that luck wound run out and he'll come back with more than just a scratch.

Without realizing were I was, my body stumbled back, apparently being hit my something.

"Oh dear! Are you all right?" The wall in front of me spoke.

Raising my head, my eyes landed on the painting that led to the Gryffindor common room which held a rather heavy woman with a golden goblet in hand

"Dear...?" She spoke again as her body sunk down to my level.

Shaking my head, I whispered a makeshift excuse while slowly getting up. "Yeah-uh, I'm just a bit tired is all."

"Ar-are you sure?" She asked, giving me a genuinely worried face.

"Yeah..." I whispered, plastering a fake smile on my face.

Nodding to herself, the woman stood up and hesitantly opened the door, clearly not buying my excuse.

"Have a good night, dear." Her voice spoke as I walked through the opening.

Walking into the common room, my eyes landed on the three boys who sat of the couch, talking and laughing as if one of their friends wasn't in danger. Watching them, I could feel irritation slowly begin to seep into me.

How can they be so calm about this?

I'd realized I had stopped walking and was simply glaring at them, though, none of them seemed to noticed

Get yourself together, Y/N, they're used to his disappearances by now.

Shaking my I head, I tore my eyes away from them and continued walking, knowing if I stayed any longer, I wouldn't be able to escape. Making my decision, I quickly walked past them and headed up the stairs.

The heavy oak door creaked quietly as I entered the dorm, the only light was that of the bright moon that shined through the windows. Looking at the large object in the sky, it became real. Remus was gone again, alone again, suffering by himself, again.

Blinking a couple times, I forced myself to look away and set down my stuff and threw myself into the bed.

Looking up at the dark ceiling, my dark thoughts began to make their way back into my mind. The woods that lied outside of the castle was anything but safe, and that's what worried me the most. He's bound to run into something out their.

Shaking my head, once again, I turned over on my side and lazily pulled the covers over my body.

Remus, please, please be safe.

The morning came like a slap in the face, literally.

"Y/N, I understand you're going through a lot, but sleeping through it is not a good way to deal with your problems." I could feel the slight tingling of my cheek that was slapped as a girl's voice yelled in my ear.

How is it morning already?

"I can't believe you slapped her." Another muffled voice came to my ears, this one male.

"It still didn't work though." Her voice sighed irritably as it came closer. "Y/N, hun. I know you can hear me."

Bunching my eyebrows together, I groaned, turning myself onto my back. Hesitantly opening my eyes, two concerned face came into view, Lily on the left and Sirius on the right.

"What?" My gross cracking voice came out as I glared at them.

"It's half past two, Y/N..." Lily whispered, walking over to sit beside me.

"And?" I whispered, turning over and pressing my face into my pillow.

"And, you need to actually get up. We went through this with Remus yesterday, you know this isn't good for you." Sirius spoke quietly, coming up on the opposite side of the bed from Lily.

"Why?" I asked, maybe if I'm annoying enough they'll go away.

"Merlin, you're just being difficult on purpose now." Lily's irritated voice pierced my ears before grabbing my shoulder. I was forcefully pulled over and onto my back again, causing me to make eye contact with an irritated ginger.

"Get up." She ordered, pulling on my hand until I was sitting up in bed. Blinking away my slight dizziness, I sharply turned my head in her direction, giving her a hard glare. Although I knew I shouldn't be angry at he, I couldn't stop the anger from boiling up in me.

"Happy?" I grumbled, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

"Ecstatic, actually." She said with a smile, placing her hands on her hips as she took a few steps back.

"You're more stubborn than James when it comes to waking up..." Sirius groaned while approaching me.

"C'mon, you need to actually do something today." With that statement, his left hand closed around my wrist and pulled at it until I got up.

"Sirius, I'm not ready!" I panicked, trying desperately to pry his hand off of me.

"You've looked worse." He said with a smirk while starting to pull me towards the exit, all the while I protested loudly.

"You have fun, now!" Lily called as the door closed behind us.

I had been dragged all the way down to the common room and to the usual couch the four of them sat on.

"What are you doing, Sirius?" I was already irritated enough with him, the fact that he made me sit here while looking disgusting did not help his cause.

"Making you be social. Now talk." He said, gesturing to the crowded room of people that lied before my eyes.

I sometimes wonder why this was my best friend, of all people, I chose this guy, this dog, to be my best friend. Blinking a couple times, I pulled my eyes brows together and crossed my arms in front of me.

"Let me change." I practically growled, glaring at his amused face.

"No." He said, a triumphant smile on his face.

"Sirius!" I protested, throwing my hands in the air.

"No." He spoke again, the shit-eating grin still clad on his face as he chuckled.

"Fine." I whispered, slowly getting up off the couch and weaving my way through the students. There was no way I could handle him right now.

"Y/N! Y/N wait, I'm sorry!" Sirius' voice called from behind me. "Will you at least come back after you change?"

Sharply turning around, I glared at him. "And why would I do that?"

"Because you love me?" He asked with an wry grin while holding his arms out in front of him, making his classic kicked puppy face.

Narrowing my eyes, I sighed, bringing my hands up to rub my head. "Fine, Sirius." I groaned in defeat.

Throwing his hands up like a child, he skipped towards me a wrapped we in his arms.

"Don't take to long." He whispered, backing away with a cheeky grin.

Rolling my eyes, I gave him a small nod and closed the door behind me. I could feel my body shaking with frustration.

"That man...is going to be the death of me..." I whispered as my hands found my hair. My back could no longer steady myself as it slid against the door and down to the floor. The only thing on my mind was Remus, I'm grateful for Sirius, but there was no way I could just calm down and let time pass.

Looking up, I glanced around the room filled with the golden afternoon light and took a deep breath.

"You're fine." I whispered to myself as I slowly stood up. "Just enjoy yourself, you'll be fine.

Taking another, deeper breath, I straightened my posture and hesitantly walked towards the bathroom.

You're fine.

Opening the door of the bathroom, I was greeted with a ginger girl who instantly took my hand.

"Lily, w-what are you doing?" I asked, startled, as she pulled me around the room, and sat me down on her bed.

"I thought I'd talk to you before you headed down with the stupid-brigade."

"Stupid-brigade...?" I asked confused until it dawned on me, causing an uncontrollable grin to come to my face. "Ohh, you mean Sirius, James, and Peter?"

"Bingo." She said with a grin. "Anyway, I just wanted to ask how you were doing, truly." Her voice had become rather serious withing seconds, as if she was probing me for an answer. "Don't give me any of that 'I'm fine' bullshit either." She added, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Looking at her, I let out a uncomfortable laugh, rubbing my neck with my left hand. "I guess when you put it that way..." I sighed, letting my shoulders drop, knowing I couldn't hide anything from her. "I-I'm worried about him, more so that usual. I just feel like something bad is going to happen, you know?"

Placing her hand on my upper back, Lily gave me a sad smile. "This boy is so clueless, you know that?"

"What?" Her statement had put me completely off guard.

"It's true, he goes off and leaves you once a month for a day or two, leaving you worrying yourself to death..." She starts, looking as if she's got everything figured out. "He then proceeds to come back like it's no big deal, making sure you're completely fine, not giving even a thought to his own health."

What she had just said actually made quite a bit of sense, he never did seem to care what happened to him, even yesterday. "I suppose that makes sense." I whispered, deep in thought.

"He cares for you, that much is obvious, but he doesn't seem to understand why you care for him." She said with a half smile, patting me on the back a couple times. "He's absolutely, without a doubt, clueless." A triumphant smile had made its way to her face, as if she'd just solved the biggest mystery of all time. "When he comes back tonight or tomorrow, make sure he understands that you care for him. Don't let him brush it aside."

I had nodded subconsciously to her statement as I looked up at her. Somehow, a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders, just by speaking to her. "Thanks, Lily." I said with a smile.

"Anytime, love." She smiled, bringing me into a tight hug. "Now, you should probably go meet Sirius before he, has some sort of crisis."

Laughing, I parted from the hug and got up. "I'll talk to you later." Waving at her, I turned around, heading towards the door, a small bounce in my step.

It was late, too late for anyone to be up, that is, anyone but me.

I sat in the now empty common room, waiting for the door to swing open. Waiting for the person who seemed to have been gone for years to walk through the opening. It had to be any second now, I could just feel it.

The fire had died down and only a faint crackle could be heard from it. I could hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears as I watched the door. My anxiety through the roof.

What if he doesn't return? What if he's hurt? What if he's dying?

Dark thoughts clouded my mind as my gaze shifted to the wall beside me.

I need to go find him. I can't just leave him.

"Ahem."

Why do you have such a low standard of living, Remus?

"Uh-Y/N?"

Tears filled my eyes as I forced them closed, my thoughts threatened to drive me insane.

"Y/N, love. I'm right here..."

My body stiffened as I heard his voice as I brought my eyes up to meet his own.

"Hey..." He whispered with a pained smile, lifting his hand to give me a small wave.

The boy in front of me was without a doubt Remus. The large cut on this left cheek caught my eye before anything, it looked rather deep, going straight through his cheek and down past his lips, stopping around the middle of his chin.

I knew he was hurt, but I couldn't stop myself from running towards him. As if I was no longer in control of my own body, I tackled him to the ground, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"It's fine, I'm here now. M'sweet girl..." His voice was surprisingly calm as his left hand came up to gently stroke my hair. Leaning my head into his touch, I took a deep breath, letting my worries diminish.

Closing my eyes from his touch, the conversation with Lily came back to my mind, causing me to instantly stiffen in his arms.

Giving me a confused look, Remus raised his head to look at me, trying his hardest to look as healthy as possible. "What is it, love?"

"Remus, I know you're hurt." I whispered, scanning his entire body as I stood up. Small cuts were scattered along his skin, not to mention the large cut that ran straight through his dried, bloodied lips.

"I'm fine, t-this is nothing." He said, giving me another pained smile.

"C'mon." I gave him no choice as I slowly helped him steady himself. As Remus slowly got to his feet, I felt the hiss of air reach my face, followed by a low groan. "A-are you okay?" I asked, my insides going into full panic mode.

"Y-yeah...I just need to rest." He whispered, gritting his teeth together.

"Put your arm around my shoulder, I'll help you to your dorm."

"Are you sure?" His neck snapped in my direction, he looked surprised, but there was nothing in his facial expression that said he didn't want the help.

"Absolutely." Wrapping his arm around me, we slowly made our way up the stairs, and in no time, we were opening the door to his dorm.

Setting him on his bed, I quickly ran to the bathroom, grabbing any minor first aid they had to get him through the night before I brought him to the hospital wing.

"Stay still." I whispered, leaning close to him as I gently ran a damp towel across his lips. Remus' eyes watched me closely, as if he didn't understand what I was doing. Not realizing his gaze, my eyes caught his for a moment, causing my face to become warm.

"Y-you don't need to stare." I stuttered over my words, trying my hardest to focus on the work in front of me.

"Sorry," he chuckled awkwardly, his eyes still staring at me with the same intensity. "I'm just not used to this."

"What?" I instantly stopped my movement and looked at him.

"This," he said gesturing the array of first aid equipment I'd lied down beside him. "I've never had anyone do this for me before."

"Well, I..." I had now completely stopped my work and stared at him dumbfounded.

'...make sure he understands you care for him. Don't let him brush it aside...' Lily's words echoed in my mind as I stared at him.

"Remus, I need to tell you something." I blurted out, setting the towel down beside me.

"What is it, love?" His face once again twisted into that of concern as he patted the seat beside him, gesturing for me to take a seat.

Taking the seat he'd offered I took a deep breath and began to speak. "I care for you." I started, looking into his eyes. "And because I care for you, I want you to stop thinking that your health doesn't matter."

"I-"

"When I want to help you, I will help you." I said, cutting him off. "I don't want you to get hurt anymore than what I'm seeing now." My voice was brought down to a whisper as I finished speaking.

Remus just looked at me, not saying anything, until a small smile appeared on his face. Pulling me into a hug, burying me into his chest. "I hope you know that I'm well aware of how much you care for me." He laughed, happily.

"You waited for me, am I right?"

Nodding against him chest, I smiled, all my worries leaving my mind.

"That's right, Remus-" I started, pulling away from him so I could look as his face.

"-I waited for you."

[happyw-behappy-blog]

The Biography of Sirius Black: a collection of all the letters received   2017-12

 Dear Padfoot,

It’s been a long time since I last saw you. Actually I hope I would never meet you again. Because this means, you are still alive. But it’s still nice to see you now; at least you lived 17 years longer than me.

Thank you for being there for Harry, you are a great godfather. Thank you for teaching him patience, justice and love. And thank you for every moment you spend with Harry.

I know he is very much like me, not only his look, but also him. I bet it is because of genetic which make him so talented, like me, or how could he still be like this excellent after growing up in a pig house! (Don’t you tell Lily about this!) I know this is how you think of Lily’s sis’ family, don’t try to deny it. So sometimes, you think him as me, like your dear old friend was still there with you, I know its feeling. And I know the disappointment when you release the difference between Harry and me. But he’s your godson anyway, you have to love him, and I know you did, for me and for him.

No matter what, now we can hang out together again, after all these years. See you around some time, and don’t forget to bring the beer with you when you are here.

I miss the time which Maraduers got to pick on Snivellus, I think we can still do that now, just in a different world.

 Love,

Prongs

             "It's been fourteen years, and still not a day goes by that I don't miss your dad."

—Sirius regarding his friendship with James

                                 Sirius Black,

This would be the last time and first time I wrote something to you.

SHAME ON YOU!!!!! How dare you to fight against our Load! You’ve betrayed your family.

I wish I’d NEVER had a son like you.

But at least, you keep the Blacks’ pure blood when you leave the world. I’m glad that you did not disgust me and your mother with some mudblood’s child. Through me and your mother burned your face of the family tree of House of Black when you betrayed your noble family and blood, you were our last pure blood in the Blacks, and the Blacks are died forever now.

I would never forgive you for all the dirty things you’ve done, and how you do not care about the pure blood in your body.

From this moment, Sirius Black, the son of Orion Black and Walburga Black, are officially removed from House of Black due to his betray to his pure blood and his Lord.

Orion Black

      Harry Potter: "Were — were your parents Death Eaters as well?"

Sirius: "No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having pure-bloods in charge."

— Sirius regarding his family's beliefs

                                 Dear Snuffles,

  How are you these days? We want to visit you next time we can go to Hogsmeade that will be next Saturday. Harry does not feel very well these days. He told us not to tell you, but I think you should know. I think its his scar, but he didn’t tell, maybe he would talk to you about it. You are the only one he’d listen to right now.

Please don't tell Harry I write this letter to you, he would be mad at me for telling you this.

I guess he must have sent you his letter, reply his only, and tell him we can visit if it is safe. He is really worrying about you.

Please don’t tell Harry about this! And keep yourself safe!

 PS: I wonder how does mice tastes, and how could you live on with that!

 You must love Harry very much. Wish I’d have a godfather so cool as you.

          "Poor old Snuffles."

—Ron, on Sirius living off rats

        I would never forget the time in Azkaban. It is a place worse than hell. In hell, people are in pain still they are desperate to leave, they are hoping something, but in Azkaban, there is no hope, only coldness, darkness and walking-dead.

This is a place easily making people crazy. I saw many people came in normal or even proud, like those stupid Death Eaters, feeling proud as they got in there because of the loyalty they thought they got. However, after a while, the fire inside everyone dies, those who try to fight against got crazy, living in their fantasy.

I don’t even know how I got through that time. Maybe it’s because that I do not have desire and happiness to given away. Only hates, guilt, and sadness. Those creatures, they don't have eyes, they don't need them, all they need is the air of hopelessness and fear, which give them power.

Day and day, I live a life like this, eating, sleeping, thinking, trying to stay clear. There is no positive thing in my life, darkness and isolation. I know I am different from the others, those crazy and dirty people, I have to stay awake.

I didn’t stand up for myself, because I felt guilt. I thought Pettigrew was died and he got what he deserved! I’m really sorry, James. I shouldn’t let you change Secret-Keeper, I thought Pettigrew would be like us, would rather die than betray his friend. I regard that decision every day.

After 13 years in Azkaban, I heard that Pettigrew was not died. He created his own death scene and set me up for the betrayal. He used a Blasting Curse, killing twelve Muggles in the process, the huge explosion on the street enabling him to fake his own death and escape in his Animagus form, leaving a severed finger behind as evidence of his death. Everyone believed it, I believed it. However, it is not like that, he is now living in his Animagus form with the Weasleys, most importantly, with Harry.

I must not make another mistake and should explore this to the light, to let Harry know that his godfather, his father’s best man and best friend did not betray him. So I am planning on escape, it is going to be hard, no one ever done it before. But that’s what we do, do the things that are impossible for others, do the things that have never been done before.

Those stupid life-sucking creatures cannot sense animals, so I may escape using my Animagus.

I would be there for Harry this time, as his godfather, his friend, and his family.

Wish me good luck, dear Lily and James.

I can do this, I have to do this.

                       Sirius: "What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard that ever existed? Only innocent lives, Peter!"

Peter Pettigrew: "You don’t understand! He would have killed me, Sirius!"

Sirius: "THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

— Sirius confronting Peter in regards to his betrayal

                                 To Sirius:

When can I return Ur motorbike? It’s been over 15 years! When and where should I give it to U? or maybe u would let me keep it?

 From Hagrid

              This is the first time that there is prisoner escape from Azkaban, the most horrible prison in the world. According to someone working in that department in Ministry of Magic, it is guarded by Dementors, one of the most horrifying, dangerous, and mysterious creatures.

 Here is our wanted man: 

  Famous in both Magic world and Muggles’ world. Known as “The

most dangerous wanted man.” Wanted man indeed! Look how handsome he is when he is young, even on the wanted picture!

 Here is some background information on Sirius Black:

Born:

3 November, 1959

England, Great Britain

Blood status:

Pure-blood

Marital status:

Single

  In prison for the charge of murder 12 Muggles, explore identity to the Muggles, causing the death of James Potter and Lily Potter, and suspicious Death Eater.

 (Reported by Rita Skeeter)

                  Dear Padfoot,

Thank you for being there with me when it was full moon, also Prongs and Wormtail.

And I’m truly sorry that I thought you betrayed James and Lily. I should believe in you that you’d never do that. Just there was no evidence that Pettigrew was still alive, so I did not believe. I am really sorry, Sirius.

Us, the Marauders, are the most meaningful thing in my life. Werewolf is not usually easily accepted as friend or classmate, even my family was scared of me, but you guys are not. Thank you again.

To be fair, you and James are the most talented people I’ve ever seen. Smart, gifted, and brave, nothing seems impossible to you. Thank god I’m a werewolf, or I may be left far behind you guys, I mean Animagus! That’s something even most professors cannot do. Anyway, we were the most loved and hated people back in our day at Hogwarts, because we got the talent and rude, I have to say.

Harry is doing alright, just he won’t talk. I guess you are the only one he’d like to talk to and now, well, you are also gone. I promise I would take good care of him, the best I can do.

He wants to join the Order. I know you would support him, so I did not stop him, through according to me; I am not sure if he really understands what does that responsibility means and if he is ready to face death. But he is the son of James and the godson of you! He got that sprit, talent, and bravery inside him. He got his own believe and things he worth fighting for. I would support him, like what you and James would do.

I’m doing alright, Severus is still making me Wolfsbane Potion every month, he is doing ok as well, as usual.

Give the Potters my regard, and Severus’ to Lily.

We all miss you.

Love,

Moony

         Remus: "...he thought I was the spy, Peter. I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?"

Sirius Black: "Forgive me, Remus."

Remus: "Not at all, Padfoot, old friend. And will you forgive me for believing you were the spy?"

Sirius Black: "Of course."

— Reflecting on the First Wizarding War

                                 "Sirius was a brave, clever, and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger."

He is a great friend, a brave fighter, an intelligent student, a trouble-maker, a good man, and most importantly to you, Harry, he is the best godfather.

                  TO Snuffles:

Please reply only when you are safe.

We have to send another owl rather than Hedwig because he is too easy to be recognized.

 Hope you are doing well. Tell me what we can bring to you next time we visit. I guess some well-cooked food would be nice.

 We are all very worry about you, please do not try to leave the place you can be safe and unfound. We would go find you, using the invisible coat.

 No matter what you heard, do not explore yourself to anyone. We’d be alright; we can deal with things on our own.

 Please don’t be too worry about us. Harry is doing fine, he miss you a lot, we do as well. He wants to talk to you very much, but I told him to wait till you have been certain that you are safe. So please reply only when you are safe. We all want to be absolutely safe. And please do not rash, we don’t want to lose you, and Harry can’t afford to lose you again.

 Sorry for being annoying, but safety is the most important thing for all of us under such a special time. So please never try to find us in your Animgus form, don’t let us be worry about you.

 Keep in contact, and don’t give up. Greet Buckbeak for us.  

  We all love you.

 PS: Pigwidgeon would bite, and he might be a little noiscy. (Ron)

Love,

    "You really are the brightest witch of your age." —Sirius to Hermione after she and Harry rescued him from receiving the Dementor's Kiss in 1994

                  Dear Sirius,

How are you doing? I miss you a lot.

My scar never hurts anymore since the end of war, I’m doing fine. I married Ginny, and we had 2 sons and a daughter. I named my big boy after you and my father, James Sirius Potter. I hope he can get both of your sprits inside him. The bravery, caring, loving, and loyalty, everything I learnt from you, I would like him to understand them as well.

I know you must be guilty by leaving me so early. You haven’t made it to your promise, to give me another home, to live with you in another place. Don’t be. Because no matter what, you are still the most important man to me, you said you are my godfather, but I take you as my father, my brother, and my friend. You are my real family when I thought I belonged nowhere, and I believe there would never be anyone willing to live on rats just to make sure I’m safe while he is in much more dangerous than I did.

I cannot remember my parents, but it was you and Lupin who brought them alive to me. The stories you’ve told me about your youth, and what you and Professor Smape brought up during your arguments. Everyone said that I look exactly like my dad, and owned my mom’s eyes, but you are the only one who let me believe I have them inside me. And now, also some parts of you, I believe.

12 Grimmauld Place is still left empty, Kreacher still lives in there, I bet he doesn’t want company and I don’t need a house elf, so I let him do whatever he want in that house. I once hated Kreacher, I thought you died because of him giving information to Voldemort, but Professor Dumbledore talked to me later, about our relationship and your death. I can’t help myself to blame myself through I knew he’s right.

He said: "Like the fact that the person Sirius cared most about in the world was you. Like the fact that you were coming to regard Sirius as a mixture of father and brother. Voldemort knew already, of course, that Sirius was in the Order, that you knew where he was, but Kreacher’s information made him realise that the one person whom you would go to any lengths to rescue, was Sirius Black."

I lived through all those troubles, heart-breakings, and death. Your words are still on my mind every day, to remind me of the loved ones.

You said, after all that was over, we can be together. You didn’t break your promise, you did it, because you also said the ones who love us never really leave us, you can always find them in my heart.

You said you didn’t belong to your family, and neither did I when I met you. So you are my family, you give me somewhere I felt I belong, that is whenever I spent time with you.

You have always been the most important man to me.

I love you, Sirius. And I miss you so much.

Lots of love,

           "I never betrayed Lily and James. I would have died before I betrayed them."

—Sirius trying to convince Harry of the truth in 1994

  "If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

—Sirius giving advice to Harry

  " Come on, you can do better than that!... And Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and then fell back into place."

—Sirius' last words and death by falling through the veil

  Harry Potter: "Does it hurt?"

Sirius: "Dying? Not at all. Quicker and easier than falling asleep."

— Sirius' spirit speaks to Harry through the Resurrection Stone

  "We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."

— Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

  "This is how it is — this is why you're not in the Order — you don't understand — there are things worth dying for!"

— Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

  "Well, [bad] times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others."

— Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

  "The ones who love us never really leave us, you can always find them in here."

— Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

  "What's life without a little risk?"

— Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

  "Then you should have died! Died, rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you."

— Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

      Some Words from Author

I am so sorry that the format, word styles, word sizes, etc. cannot be changed here. This is one of my proudest work, I even draw “The Marauder's Map” when I was creating this biography. Again this was a school project, but when I decided to write about Sirius Black, one of my favorite characters, from the best series ever created ---- Harry Potter ---- this was no longer a project to be, it was a creation.

I spent a week working on this creation ---- doing all the research I could do, rereading the books, reviewing the movies ---- just to be respectful and recreate the life of Sirius Black as accurate as I can. Instead of writing plainly  about his life, I chose to use letters from different people sent to him to reflect different period of his life. I studied characters’ signature to make sure the word style I chose matches their handwriting; I analysis the characters’ personalities and acted in them when I am writing from their perspectives; I found out the meaningful being existed in Sirius Black’s life and quote their reflections on each other. This is the most meaningful thing I created so far. I love it.

[deepcutinquest]

SEX, DEATH, CONSPIRACY

First posted 25 Feb. 2016

The real Deepcut cover up

Cheryl James father Des sat poker faced in court as he heard the three pillars of a story which has enthralled for nearly 14 years laid bare. Sex, death, conspiracy, day seven of her inquest had them all. Cheryl was the second of four young soldiers found shot dead in the grounds of the Princess Royal Barracks near the village of Deepcut, Surrey between 1995 and 2002. Sean Benton and Cheryl James in 1995, Geoff Gray in 2001 and James Collinson in 2002. Retired company director, Mr James from north Wales has been prepared for what he was going to hear at this inquest for a long time. The family have barely had a break from campaigning since their daughter was found dead 20 years ago. The original open verdict from the first inquest in 1995 was quashed in 2014 when planning started for the second inquest. Cheryl was a friendly, popular, attractive 18-year-old and rumours began to circulate soon after her body was found. Since then, the James family have heard everything and more of the evidence presented so far in the inquest. They have heard, in detail, about the sex life of their 18-year-old daughter. They have heard and seen the details of her death by single gunshot wound to the face. They have heard all the theories and conspiracies. Wednesday, February 24 was the first day all three were aired in court on the same day. A former soldier gave details of a conversation with Cheryl which took place while she was having sex with his friend the night before her death. Another former colleague told how Cheryl sent a chill through her when she remarked how easy it would be to shoot yourself in the head. The third witness of the day made allegations about a sex ring in the camp involving officers and NCOs in collusion with Surrey police. None of this was anything Des James had not heard before. He listened carefully to every intimate detail, every version of Cheryl's final hours. The sex, death and conspiracy theories which have obscured the evidence for 20 years. Yvonne Sneddon Yvonne Sneddon joined the army in 1995. She confirmed the statements she gave Surrey Police in 2002 were accurate despite being taken by a detective who was later removed from the investigation after inappropriate behaviour towards female witnesses. She described Cheryl as very bubbly, lively, a lovely girl who was always up for a laugh. "The life and soul of the party," she said. After completing driver training at Leconfield, Cheryl and Yvonne were taken back to Deepcut by coach. "We were drinking on the bus and having a joke and a laugh," she recalled. "At one point, Cheryl turned to me and mentioned completely out of the blue how easy it would be to shoot yourself." The conversation turned to Sean Benton who had been found with five bullet wounds to his chest only a few months before at Deepcut. The gate where he was found was by then known as Benton's Gate. Ms Sneddon said: "I recall asking her why and she said if you were going to kill yourself, that would be really easy. "I said God no, it wouldn't be easy. "I asked her why she was thinking that." In 2002, Ms Sneddon told police: "If you think about it, you know Benton, it would be dead easy, you would feel no pain." She just dismissed the conversation and went back to drinking, Ms Sneddon said. "I did ask her if she was OK. "We were just in high spirits. "As I recall, it was a complete lull in the conversation and then she came out with that statement. "It sent a chill through me," she said. Ms Sneddon admitted Benton's death was the subject of general conversation in the camp. Andrew Carter Cheryl James offered to have anal sex with another soldier the night before she was found shot dead. She was having sex with her new boyfriend when she made the offer to his best friend. The 18-year-old army recruit was in a male accommodation block at the Princess Royal Barracks near Deepcut when she asked Andrew Carter if he ever did anything on impulse. Mr Carter told the inquest he understood her to mean "Then and there." Cheryl was found shot dead in the grounds of the camp the next morning. Me Carter told the court in Woking he had been shocked by the offer and thought his friend, Paul Wilkinson, was offended. "She asked me if I had every done anything on impulse," he said. "She asked me if I had ever had anal sex with a girl. "Then she asked me if I would like to have anal sex with her," Mr Carter said. He joined the army in 1995 and met Cheryl at Deepcut two months before she was killed. "She was very lively, bubbly, quite a lovely girl," he said. He described living in an eight bed dormitory at the camp. The night before Cheryl was killed, Mr Carter said he was in the room when Cheryl James was having sex with his best friend at the time Paul Wilkinson. "We had been drinking, like most nights. "I wasn't really drunk and I was in the back left bed with Pte Sarah Ditchfield. "Cheryl and Paul were making love in bed. "I'd say well after midnight. "Cheryl asked me if I'd done anything off impulse. "I was quite surprised at her speaking to me. "She said she wanted to get a fake passport and travel to Thailand or Malaysia. "She asked if I had ever had anal sex with a girl. "She then asked me if I would like to have anal sex with her. "Paul was quite agitated and annoyed with the question," Mr Carter said. "I can't remember if he said any words, he mumbled something. "I read his body language, he was agitated." Asked by Nicholas Moss for the MoD what he understood by the question, Mr Carter said: "There and then." Soon after the conversation, Pte James said she wanted to go back to the female accommodation block. "She asked me to accompany her downstairs so she wouldn't be caught by any NCOs," Mr Carter said. "Paul Wilkinson was quite agitated. "There was definitely a step up in his reaction. "I made the offer to go downstairs alone and check. "Everybody was happy with that." Asked who Pte Wilkinson was angry with, he said: "I would say at Cheryl." He said he knew Cheryl James had just started seeing his friend Paul Wilkinson before she was found shot dead in November 1995. "The relationship was in the starting phase," he said. It was too early to tell if they were going to be serious, he said. He described Paul Wilkinson as a good lad and quite sensitive. Asked if his conversation with Cheryl started part way through her having sex with Paul Wilkinson, Mr Carter said: "Yes." In a statement to police in 2002, Mr Carter said: "I have no doubt that she meant what she said." Mr Carter said he was shocked by the suggestion he should join in with Cheryl and his friend. "I was shocked buy my shock was a positive shock and for Paul it was more of a negative." Following the conversation, Mr Carter said he saw Cheryl and Paul Wilkinson coming down the stairs together after he had been to check for NCOs. "I was coming back up the steps, they were coming down. "They seemed relatively happy together. "He wasn't angry, but put out. "I got back to the room and saw Cheryl walking back alone. "I looked out the window and she looked up. "I said to her You're going to get it. "She looked up, smiled and winked." Asked if he meant sex, Mr Carter said: "Yes." "I presume Paul was coming back up the steps. "He didn't see. "I can't recall speaking to him about it. "I can't remember much more about that night. "I laid down and slept on the middle bed. Mr Carter agreed it was possible there was another person in the room during the sexual conversation. "It is possible Gavin Trearty was in the room as well. "I have a vague recollection of somebody else being there." The next day Mr Carter and Mr Trearty went shopping for a mountain bike. When they returned to Deepcut, Mr Carter said they say two other young female soldiers. "We passed the guard room and Helen Miller and Sharon Price were coming down the main drag. "Both were emotional. "Sharon was repeating something over and over - James was dead." Later, Mr Carter saw Paul Wilkinson. "He was in bits. "He was shook up, crying. "He kept saying Why." Asked if Cheryl ever complained about anything in specific to do with army life, Mr Carter said no. Everybody complained about Deepcut, he said. The officers and NCOs were strict and petty, he said. "I don't think there were many members of Deepcut who weren't complaining at any one time. "At least half the camp were talking about getting out of the army." Asked about rumours of Cheryl being pestered for sex by a member of staff at Deepcut, Mr Carter said there were lots of rumours going round the camp following Cheryl's death. Asked about rumours in connection with the position of Cheryl's rifle, Mr Carter said: "Certain comments were passed on from the NCOs. "I believe, it came from people in the guard room itself. "Like I say, there was quite a lot of talk," he said. Mark Beards The only witness to claim there was an organised sex ring abusing young soldiers at Deepcut was branded a fantasist and a liar at the second inquest into the death of Cheryl James. Mark Beards said he met Cheryl James twice on the weekend before she died. The first time on Saturday, November 25 1995, he said Cheryl was weeding the front of an administration block on the camp. The second time was the next evening in the NAAFI bar and again later when he was sitting on a wall outside his own accommodation block. He agreed he may have had around eight pints of beer before leaving the bar. "I decided I was going back to my block because I had to be up early. "I was sat on the wall having a cigarette in front of the block. "Cheryl James comes walking from the female block, stops, has a cigarette, we start talking." Mr Beards said his memory was clearer now than in 2002 when he spoke to Surrey Police. He said Cheryl was on her way to see his room mate, Pte Ian Atkinson on the orders of Sergeant Andrew Gavaghan. "I asked her what she was doing there. "She said she had to meet Acky. "I asked her again, she explained she had to go into the room with him. "She says I've got to do it. "I said you've not got to do anything you don't want to do. "I tried to get her to go back to her block because she wasn't happy. "She wouldn't let me. "She kept saying I shouldn't get involved, you'll get hurt. "She said don't get involved. "I said to her, you don't want to be here. "She goes, I've got to do it Gav ordered me. "Sleep with Acky. "She said Gav had ordered her to go down to the room with Acky. "She said Gav had ordered her to go into the room with Acky." Asked if Cheryl had mentioned sex, Mr Beards said No. "I turned to Cheryl and said the only person who can decide what you are doing with the rest of your life is you. "And the next day she was dead," he said. Mr Beards left the army in 1996. He did not tell Surrey police about the second meeting with Cheryl when they interviewed him as part of their 2002 investigation. "It was my understanding that Sgt Gavaghan was a Surrey Poilice liaison officer." Mr Beards recalled an indecent with the sergeant after a night out in Frimley. "It was in the camp, it was after a night out that I'd had. "We were on parade and he came up and whispered in my ear. "He knew that I'd had sex with another recruit in the toilets. "He said he knew because there were cameras in the toilets and he was the Surrey Police liaison officer." Asked why he did not mention the meeting to police, Mr Beards said he feared for his life: "I had no way to know it wouldn't get back to him. "I believed Sgt Gavaghan was their liaison officer. I was afraid he would get me, he would kill me." Mr Beards told the hearing he had been unwell at the time and did not stand by statements he made to police in 2002. He said he remembered the events of November 1995 much more clearly now. The former soldier, who admitted suffering from psychological problems in the past, was discharged from the army after being referred to a psychiatrist. Mr Beards, who said he could not be sure on dates, times or names and admitted being paranoid, repeatedly offered to take a polygraph, lie detector, test. His Honour Judge Brian Barker asked Mr Beards to stop asking for a test and answer the questions he was being asked since the results are not admissible in English law. Mr Beards said he saw Cheryl James twice during the weekend before she was found shot dead. He said he saw the 18-year-old weeding in front of an administration block on Saturday morning. Mr Beards said: "I've had a lot of time to think about it and it is a lot clearer. "I think about it every day." Describing the first meeting with Cheryl he said: "It was no more than a couple of minutes. "I was going to the administration block. "I saw her picking weeds." He said a corporal he knew was giving Cheryl a hard time about the weeding. "I said leave her alone, she's doing a good job there and I smiled at Cheryl. "I said don't let bastards grind you down. "Come on, James, you don't want to end up back in jail,' corporal said." Nicholas Moss for the MoD said there was no record of Cheryl ever being in military detention. "No one can trust a word you say," Mr Moss said. "That's convenient for the MoD and Surrey Police," Mr Beards said. "That weekend she went to Camberly, she wasn't doing weeding," Mr Moss suggested. "It didn't happen did it?" Mr Beards said: "I cannot comment on what other witnesses have said." John Beggs QC, for Surrey police, took Mr Beards through his 2002 statement. He asked him to look at a tab marked with an F. "F, for fantasist, Mr Beards," Mr Beggs said. "You are someone that lies at the drop of a hat," he said. "I don't agree with that statement," Mr Beards said. Mr Beggs accused Mr Beards of being an attention seeker who had gone to the press when he knew it was a big investigation. "It would be fair to say you have been troubled with psychological issues," Mr Beggs said. "I have carried the guilt of Cheryl James death for 20 years. "It destroyed my marriage and my family," he said. "I suffered from PTSD and I wasn't getting assistance. "I have a broken neck. "I am unemployable." Mr Beggs said: "Well, that may well be true." Nicholas Moss for the Ministry of Defence accused Mr Beards of being prone to lies and gross exaggerations. "You find it hard to separate truth from fictions and delusions," he said. Mr Beards said: "No. Where is the evidence to sustain that?" Mr Moss described Mr Beards evidence as riddled with inconsistencies. He asked him if he was paranoid. "Paranoia, yes. "Delusion, no," Mr Beads said. "Any comment I make will be torn to pieces anyway. "If you want to test my integrity, put me on a polygraph. "Put Gavaghan on a polygraph, put Acky on a polygraph." Mr Moss asked him about a statement Mr Beards made about the commanding officer at Deepcut. "You said Cheryl said the commanding officer had been giving her a hard time." "She said she hated Gav, Radford and Acky," Mr Beards said. "She never said anything about the commanding officer." Mr Moss read from a police statement Mr Beards had given. "I think Acky was trying to have sex with her and Cheryl mentioned Lt Bradford and the CO about giving her a hard time." "I don't remember putting it in the statement," Mr Beards said. "You gave a signed statement to the police that Cheryl James said to you the CO had given her a hard time," Mr Moss said. "Nobody can trust a word you say." Mr Beards replied: "I was unwell at the time. "I was in a completely different place. "I wasn't being medicated at the time. "I've had 16 years to think about this. "I think about it every day and every night." Mr Moss asked him about the Sunday night meeting. "Ms James was in the company of one or both of her two boyfriends, Pte Ditchfield and Andrew Carter. "She just wasn't able to speak to you for ten or twenty minutes on the wall, was she?" "She was," Mr Beards said. "You can always polygraph me." Mr Moss asked: "Are you really trying to help this inquest?" "Every time you are asked for an account, you can't get your made up story straight." "It's not a made up story," Mr Beards said. In a statement taken before the second inquest, Mr Beards described the Monday morning before Cheryl was found shot dead. "Acky wanted to borrow a jumper off me. "I said Fuck off, there was no need for you to do what you did to that girl last night. "You fucking raped her, got Gav to order her." Mr Moss said there were inconsistencies riddled throughout the account. Mr Beards repeated the reason he left out the second meeting with Cheryl when he spoke to police was he feared for his life. Francesca Whitelaw, who represents Paul Wilkinson, said: "Did you deliberately set out to lie and mislead the police?" "I was paranoid," he said. "I thought I would've got a bullet. "I wanted to get things out without being dead. "I thought I would've been killed." Ms Whitelaw described Mr Beards evidence as extreme paranoia and the stuff of utter fantasy. "That's what you say," Mr Beards said.