#I’m so sorry but Jo shaking his head has me cracking up for some reason 😂

[leonsliga]

FC Bayern stands together against hate speech 🔴⚪️

[timextoxhajima]

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 8 - Hypocrite

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @sunwoowuvbot​ @suzy-rainbow​​

“Why did you come back?”

Jang Won’s consciousness had been flitting in and out of a state of being awake when Juyeon slides the door of her bathroom open, the rolling noises waking her up from her drowsy trance. 

“Sorry, just go back to sleep,” Rubbing his damp hair with a towel, the pajamas that Mr Ro managed to salvage from the Manor’s guest closet (that part of the closet used to belong to Younghoon) somehow fit him better than expected. “I know you had a long day, so.”

“It’s been a long day for the both of us so just shut up and get in bed,” Jang Won mumbles, loud enough for him to hear. Her back rests against the bolster placed in the middle of the bed, and a light clicks off somewhere in the room as Juyeon turns it off. The room was painted in a gentle mandarin shade from the nightstand lamp on his side; it reminds her of sunsets and fruit baskets. 

She feels the mattress on the extreme end sink as Juyeon shuffles in, then the room dims when he turns off the lamp on the nightstand. 

The distant chirps of crickets in the courtyard down below where the wedding was held manages to seep through the gaps of the balcony doors, and Jang Won could just barely make out the glowing ring of the moon if she pushed her head into the pillow a little more. 

“Jang Won.”

She sucks in a deep breath, eyes still fixated on the glow in the sky. “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

Surprise. Chirp. Blink. 

“What for?”

“Calling you a hypocrite.”

Jang Won turns, and Juyeon turns as well, upon hearing the shuffling. His eyes are two orbs of glass from the bare illumination from outside.

“I... can never understand how much you’ve gone through, and so I have no reason to call you that, and I’m sorry.”

“Forget it-”

“No, please,” There’s a hint of desperation in his voice that keeps her from turning away. Chirp. “I said something I cannot take back and-”

“I know. And... I’m sorry you were dragged into this mess. I really am.”

“Fruits from the same tree,” He whispers, and Jang Won can hear his gentle scoff. “Look forward to our Guatemala honeymoon. I promise you’ll have the time of your life.”

“I haven’t heard someone make a promise to me in a long, long time.”

And even in the shitty lighting, Jang Won can make out the little smile he has on his face. 

“I’ll be the new standard. Trust me.”

“That’ll probably the first and last thing I’ll do.”

Juyeon quietly chuckles in the darkness.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

If Jang Won had a choice, she definitely would’ve had chosen another way to last remember her mother, even if it meant the same outcome. It had been any normal day for her - school at one of the most prestigious academies. At the time, Juyeon’s name had already been spread far and wide for being both a chaebol and somewhat of a likeable personality in school. Jang Won would know, since she’s spent countless of days listening to the likes of her friends swooning about Lee Juyeon from the Stanford Academy. 

On the days they were a little bolder, they’d ask Jang Won to strike up a conversation at one of the events The Board likes to organise. Of course, being the girl she is, she doesn’t care. 

“Sure,” She’ll always say, but empty-handed she’ll return to her friends. Jang Won would be lying if she said she didn’t gain some kind of sickening pleasure from seeing disappointment wash over their faces when all she did was basically nothing.

That should’ve been the prime thing about being 16. That should’ve been it. Teasing each other about boys, boys that she couldn’t care any less about. 

That really should have been it.

But the ghastly outline of her mother’s skull had been etched into her head as the days passed, and before she could realise it, Jang Won had lost all memory of how her mother used to be like; how she even looked like within the walls of The Kim Mansion. 

Her mother belonged within the cream, marble walls of the monument erected in the corner of street where the country’s tycoons all lived in. She belonged in the safety of a living hall with a rug made from bear fur and a fireplace keeping her and the cup of hot chocolate on the coffee table warm. 

Not here. Not letting the amber strips of light pasted into the ceiling shine through her paper-thin skin, as if Jang Won couldn’t already see the blue veins under her mother’s forehead. 

The first major thing that Jang Won would never forget was watching her older brother fight with her father. That was the one time she had seen Younghoon yell at Kim Jo-Pil, as if they weren’t related, as if Kim Jo-Pil wasn’t the adult in the room.

While Jang Won wished with all her heart that she could remain angry with what her brother said, she knew that it was the best choice. Her mother was on a ticking time-bomb anyway. It had been a matter of time before she took her last breath.

Yet, for some reason, it was the one time that she had seen Younghoon been so coldly caring, and her father so warmly unbothered. The scent of the expensive, first-class hospital ward is still stuck in her nose, and probably would for the next year or so. As she listened to her brother beg her father to let her mother go peacefully, without having to live through the pain, she let her tears stain the bedsheets by her mother’s hands. 

“Won-ie.”

Jang Won looks up upon the hoarse voice, eyes tearing when she can see how resigned her mother is. The fight is no longer glimmering in her eyes, because she knows she’s fighting a lost war. 

“After this, you’ll only have your brother left, and you must promise me you will do everything you can to protect him, like he will for you.”

Jang Won shakes her head, fingers interlocking with hers, and for a split second, she’s almost afraid she could tear her skin. “No. You’ll do that for me. I’m not old enough to take care of him.”

“You’re a smart girl, Won-ie,” She manages a grin, and it tears Jang Won apart to see how hard she had to try. “I know... that this wasn’t what we wanted.”

“Yeah, it’s not,” Jang Won frowns, swallowing the chunk of tears and snot in the back of her throat. “Nobody’s gonna help me build Hera’s Manor if you don’t. What’s Younghoon gonna do? Sit by and eat popcorn?”

“He probably would, wouldn’t he?”

Jang Won can feel her lips quiver, brows furrowing and her head slowly becoming heavier. 

“Listen, Jang Won. The Board will not be kind to you, and we’ve lived by The Board for more than 7 generations. Things will not go your way but I promise you... not everyone is as venomous as we think they are. Some, yes... but not everybody is out for blood. These people will come and help you when you most need it, and you must be kind, whenever you can.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Jang Won’s voice cracks and she doesn’t notice that the bickering outside the ward has ceased. Younghoon enters alone. “Tell me this again next time. I’m not gonna remember it.”

“I’ll always be with you, whether you know it or not, okay? I love you, Hera’s princess. Oh, my little girl.”

It’s a monumental effort on Jang Won’s part to keep herself from physically doubling over as she sobbed, her mother’s hand pressed into her cheek. 

She shuts her eyes, letting her face contort into a horrid mess of emotions when her mother turns to look at her son. 

“Hoon-ie... Promise me you’ll take care of Jang Won?” She holds out an arm, and her son cannot bring himself to take it, in fear that it would be the last. 

“I’ll always take care of her anyway,” His voice cracks, only worsening the hiccups in Jang Won’s chest. “You can remind me some other time.”

And again, with more effort needed, she smiles. “Come here, my Prince Artemis.”

Younghoon feels like there are roots coming from the ground and holding him to the concrete, but he manages to drag himself to her bed, kneeling down to rest his arms on the mattress. 

“You both... have been my everything. Thank you for teaching me what love is, when I thought I’ll never know what it is. Thank you for teaching me how to be a better mother than any other role I could ever have.”

Younghoon winces and looks down. “Stop-”

“I am... so proud of the two of you, and I’ve been so lucky to have the two of you as my children. There’s nothing I would change. Absolutely nothing.”

Finally, Kim Jo-Pil enters the ward. Hands in his pockets. Eyes unable to look at the breathing corpse on the hospital bed.

“Jang Won, Younghoon, let’s go. The two of you still have school tomorrow.”

“No, wait, please,” Jang Won shakes her head, tightening her grip on her mother’s arm. Her father already has one arm around Younghoon’s shoulder, but even the most obedient son looks reluctant.

“Father, please,” Younghoon frowns, tears brimming. 

“Let us stay for the night, please?” Jang Won’s brows furrow back, pushing herself back towards the wall as her father rounds the end of the bed.

“Father,” Younghoon anxiously tails his father, now trying to get a hold of Jang Won. “Just let us stay for this one night.”

“No, your mother would not approve of you staying here tonight.”

“Mom,” Jang Won whines, wrist already being pulled. “Please...”

“Mother, please. Please, please, please let me stay.”

Juyeon halts the brush in his mouth, instantly turning to exit the bathroom. The late morning sun drizzles across the length of the room as he watches Jang Won twitch and shudder under the thick blanket.

“Younghoon... do something...”

He frowns, returning to the bathroom just to get the toothpaste foam out of his mouth. Walking around the bed, he now notices the pool of tears stained into the pillowcase beneath her cheek. Her face is puffy and her cheeks are pink from the anxiety.

It’s a pinch in his gut, when the only time he sees this vulnerability in her is in her sleep.

“Jang Won,” He whispers, resting one knee into the bed and gently tapping on her shoulder. “Hey.”

“No, no, no... don’t make us leave...”

“Jang Won.”

“Mr Lee.”

Juyeon turns to the bedroom door, surprised to see Mr Ro already entering. Automatically backing off, Juyeon watches as the butler presses a warm cloth to her cheek and shove a mini canvas into Jang Won’s hold.

It was painted, with bumps from acrylic paint, and signed Yoo Se Kyung. 

Her breath slows, but her grip around the canvas tightens, and she stops talking. Mr Ro shifts back, clearing his throat and gathering his palms before his abdomen. He bows to Juyeon, eyes plastered to the floor.

“Does this happen often?”

Mr Ro resumes his upright stance, eyes glancing at Jang Won. “Every year, around late spring into summer, it comes back to her. The memories of visiting her mother in the hospital. I wouldn’t disclose too much - that’s for her to share when she finally trusts you, but I’ve been meaning to tell you about it before you leave for your honeymoon. I just didn’t expect it to come so quick.”

Jang Won’s tears have stopped, and her grip around the canvas has loosened. Mr Ro removes the cloth and bows to Juyeon, turning on his heels to leave the bedroom.

“Mr Ro.”

The butler halts, head turning to look back over his shoulder.

“‘Finally’ trusts me?”

Mr Ro offers a weak smile. 

“I haven’t seen her share a bed with anybody, nor care so much, ever since her mother passed.”

Juyeon sighs exasperatedly, scratching the skin on his cheekbones as his eyes flit to her for a split second. “That’s only because you have nowhere to house me, and that she needs me for the marriage.”

The elder lowers his head and shakes it gently. “I’ve known Jang Won for the entire 22 years she’s been alive. Some part of her trusts you, and I know you don’t see it, but I can.”

Pity washes over Juyeon first, then pleasant surprise, and finally, obligation. Is this how it feels like to have someone you want to protect?

“Breakfast is in the dining hall. Jang Won will wake up soon and she’ll confirm the itinerary for your honeymoon in Guatemala next week.”

“Oh, did she say if I needed to be there?”

“Only if you want to. Jang Won’s instructions were to keep it optional for you in case you had other obligations to tend to.”

Mr Ro walks off after giving one final bow to Juyeon, leaving him awkward by the bed. His heart sinks when he turns to her, sound asleep and holding almost no hint that she had been previously crying, having nightmares.

It’s a punch to the gut when he realises he’ll never be able to fully comprehend her pain, and even then, he wouldn’t have the autonomy to tell her that he knows how it feels - because he doesn’t.

Sitting by her edge of the bed, his brows furrow across his forehead as he gently pushes her hair out of her face. He needs to remind himself that sympathy and pity is the last thing she would want, so he makes it a point to remember the promise he made Younghoon.

Juyeon’s care for Jang Won has far exceeded his own expectations, and thus, will far exceed hers. Unable to erase the idea of himself that Jang Won had previously implanted in his head, that he was a coward, from that conflict they had in her office the previous day made Juyeon a little more rigid and his head a little clearer. The resolution he makes to protect her will far supersede his ability to care for her.

Kim Jo-Pil’s gaze cannot be torn from the sight of Lee Juyeon, gently stroking the head of hair of his daughter. The door had been left ajar when Mr Ro left and he had partially heard the conversation between his new son-in-law. He had expected Juyeon to be colder, conservative, as poisonous as his daughter had seemed to be.

So when Juyeon touched Jang Won with the weight of feathers and cotton and looked like he was memorising all the features on her face, the exact color of every strand of her hair and making one of those silent promises in his head, Kim Jo-Pil cannot help the twist in his left eye-lid. 

He pulls away when Juyeon finally removes himself off the bed, backing away from the door and hurriedly scurrying away. Just before he can reach the stairs that lead down into the main hall, he hears the door down the corridor he was just in creak open.

“Mr Kim.”

Kim Jo-Pil stops, turning to face the source of call.

“Juyeon,” Kim Jo-Pil bows deeply. “I... Didn’t know you were staying for the night.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Juyeon shakes his head. “But... I must ask.”

Kim Jo-Pil sucks in a deep breath, already knowing what was in his head.

“Why did you come back?”

[athenamikaelson]

Mine for a Long Time Pt. 4

Warnings- Dean being moody again, swearing, a mouse, and blood and torture

Word Count- 2.1k

Staring up at the rickety house in front of me I grimaced. The smell of rust dampening the clean air and making my throat dry up. I lean against the Impala as Dean and Sam discuss the plans with each other to the side of me. I glance down at the dark rubble at my toes and start kicking rocks in boredom. No longer having Jo to keep me company as she had gone to look at the perimeter for where they would place the salt circle. I pick up the tiny rock that I had been kicking and stare down at it. My gaze slowly went up to the house. I feel a small smirk grace my lips as I take the rock in my right hand and throw it at the previous window. The rock pings off the glass and I see Dean whip around to me out of the corner of my eye. I rolled my eyes, already sick of his attitude today. Him barely saying anything to me since we parked other than, “stay put.” Dick. Of course I’m going to stay put, I just want to get back to the bunker and continue watching Criminal Minds with Cas. I’m going to be royally pissed if he started the next episode without me while I’m out here risking my freaking life.

“Are you trying to piss off the spirit?” Dean asked me with an annoyed edge to his voice. I fought the urge to pick up another rock and throw it at him this time.

“Yes, actually. That’s exactly what I was planning on doing. I obviously don’t know your guy’s plan because you let me in on your little chit-chat. So I had to come up with my own. ” I glance back at Sam and he throws me an apologetic smile. My eyes softened to let him know he wasn’t the one I was truly annoyed with.

Dean let out a low huff as he rubbed his hands over his face. After a moment of whatever he was doing he glanced back up at me. His expression no longer filled with annoyance, but with worry.

“Are you sure you’re up to this, Y/N? If not I’m sure Jo would be perfectly fine with taking over.” Even though I could hear the sincerity in his voice, it almost made me even more mad. Did he not think that I could do this? And even better, that Jo could do it better? My eyebrows furrow as I stalk closer to him. Dean’s back visibly straightening out.

“Tell me the plan.”

“And when you have him distracted Dean and I will drop the salt circle around the house. But it’s going to be risky, Y/n. As soon as the ghost realizes he’s trapped he’s going to become erratic. So you have to get out of the house as fast as you can. Alright?” Sam finished up the end of the plan and I let out a low breath and nodded my head in agreement.

“Alright let’s get this over with then.” Sam walked up to me and passed me a salt rifle. He was about to walk off but turned around and pressed a small kiss to my forehead. “Be careful Ernie.” As he pulls back I send him a dazzling smile.

“Aren’t I always, Bert?” He just rolls his eyes as he squeezes my shoulder as he walks to the side of the house where the bags of sand were placed.

“You promise if anything goes south, you worry about yourself first and get out of there. Fuck the job, you just get out of there alright?” I turn around to look at Dean as he asks me. My heart tightens in my chest at the look on his face. His words rang in my ears. His eyes pierced my own. The green illuminated in the moonlight, making Dean look even more breathtaking. As if that was possible. Jo was a lucky girl. The luckiest.

“Y/N?” Dean asks again, as I realized I’d just been staring at him again. I send him a small smile and walk up to him. I punch his shoulder.

“Obviously man. You really think I’d let a ghost mess up this,” I bring my hand up to gesture to my face, “I’m too pretty to die.”

Dean looks down at me, his eyes lost on my face, a small smile on his lips. The cold demeanor from earlier is nowhere to be seen. Dean brings his hand up and brushes some hair that had fallen in my face away. I don’t know if I had voluntarily held my breath, or I just couldn’t breathe as Dean looked at me. As Dean toys with the end of my hair, something changes in his faces as he drops my hair and stands back. I’m shocked by the change so I take a step back as well. The close proximity we were once in. Along with my ability to think straight. Dean looks behind me at something and I turn around to see Jo staring at Dean with a small grimace on her face. But as she sees me turn around the cold smile is gone and she looks over to me and puts on a toothy smile.

“Just coming to see where my Deany was,” She looks over to Dean as do I but he won’t meet my eyes, “Are you coming? I need help with the salt. And Y/N should probably be heading in.” Dean lets out a breath before nodding his head. Jo claps her hands together and smiles.

“Good luck Y/n” She says as she walks off. I watch as she walks behind the house. Her blond hair swung from the ponytail it was in.

I turn back to look at Dean, but he’s already walking off. Following behind her. I start to head to the front door, as it seems that everyone else is already ready. But stop when I don’t hear movement come from Dean anymore. I turn around to see him already staring at me.

“You’re right you know.” He says his voice monotone. My eyebrows scrunch in question. Sending him a look of confusion. He sends a small smile my way.

“You’re too pretty to die.” He turns around and heads to the back of the house, leaving me standing on the half broken porch with my mouth half hanging open.

“What the actual fuck.” I stand there for another moment before shaking my head. Realizing he’s just saying that because he thinks it’ll calm my nerves. Which have skyrocketed, I’ve realized as I turn to the broken down front door. My hands shake as I push open the door, I take a deep breath as I walk in and am met with the overwhelming smell of mold and the stench of what could only be death itself.

I watch my steps as I step over broken piles of glass of the shattered windows around me. I glance around and realize I’m in what must’ve been the living room. The yellowed stained couches are mounted in dust. Other than the overwhelming stench of death and shit, I could imagine what this place looked like in its prime. And my heart hurts to think of the wasted potential of the house.

I go to search for the basement, as it has been the hot spot for our little friend. As he for some reason finds the basement the right place to drag women down and rip out their hearts. Very Chainsaw Massacre if you ask me. But who am I to judge. I’m about to walk to the door in which I think is for the basement when I hear a cabinet behind me start to open. The small scratching sound made my back recoil. I cocked the salt gun and my hands and whipped around, shooting the salt bullet. The recoil makes my arms stiffen from the pressure. I look up to see if the ghost appeared but am met with a small mouse staring at me. It’s eyes almost mocking me.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I go to reload my gun as I hear Sam yelling from the back.

“Are you OK Y/N?” I freeze as I look at the mouse. It’s beady little eyes stare back at me.

“Um, yep. All good. False alarm.” I wait a moment for a response but get nothing. I turn back to the basement door but look over my shoulder at the mouse before I open it. I glare at the little creature and move two of my fingers from my eyes to its own to let it know I’m watching it. I shake my head though after realizing I’m threatening an actually fucking mouse.

“Good God, let's get this over with.” I say as I make my descent down the dark stairway into the basement. The stairs creaking under my feet at every step. I bring the gun up so I have it ready at my disposal. All I’ve got to do is make sure the ghost is in my line of sight and then Sam and Dean will drop the salt border and lock this bitch in.

I stand on the cool cement flooring and look around the air cooling my neck and cheeks, causing me to breath out. I see my breath become quite visible and physically feel the temperature drop and I cock my gun.

“My, my, my what have we got here.” A grainy voice comes from behind me. I whip around to see the ghost of an older man with grey hair falling over his face, wearing a ripped up grey suit. He tries to smile at me but with the blackened teeth in his mouth it makes me take a step back. But he comes closer. With every step I take back he takes one forward until we’re at the very edge of the basement.

“Oh come on Missy, You don’t have to walk away from me into the dampened part of this room.” He reaches out a wrinkling hand, but little does he know he’s right where I want him.

“Have you ever thought of using moisturizer?” I say with a smirk as he scrunches up his face in anger. He goes to say something but I yell before he can.

“Sam, Dean. DO IT!” The ghost looks around as the surrounding windows are covered with the salt. Rage appears on the ghost face as he yells.

“NO! NO!” He quickly whips around to look at me, but I already have my gun at his face and shoot as I go to get around him. But as the salt hits his face the only thing it does is burn him. His figure is still physically trapped here. With me.

“Shit.” I mutter as he lets out a sickening laugh and starts towards me. But I quickly make my way to the stairs. I climb as fast as I can before I feel his hand grab my ankle and yank it back. I fall forward and hear my nose crack as it makes contact with the stairs. I let out a yelp of pain as the ghost grabbed my leg harder.

“I’ll have fun ripping out your little heart the most.” He says as he tries to reach for my hair. But I quickly use my free foot and kick the man in the face. His body tumbling to the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah sorry buddy, have fun trying to find a heart. All my exes say I don’t have one.” I would’ve laughed at my own joke but the blood gushing out of my nose goes down into my mouth making me gag on it in disgust. I push myself off the stairs as I see him get back up. I push open the door and burst through the living room. The front door in my sight. But as soon as I enter the entryway I feel something hard hit the back of my head knocking me down. My vision gets blurry as I try to crawl to the front door, but am stopped when a hand wraps itself around my hair and yanks me on my back. With a scream I look up to see the man with a sickening look on his face. But the truly horrifying thing was the knife he had raised over my chest.

“DEAN!” I yell, but am cut off as I feel the knife place itself into my stomach. Blood making its way up my throat. Cutting off any other noise. My vision goes in and out and the last thing I see is the man with the sickening grin.

But the last thing I hear is the front door swing open and the sound of my name yelled off someone's lips.

Taglist- @akshi8278 @brilovesdeanwinchester @my-proof-is-you @andrearosales

[imaginesforjohnnydepp]

Violette Pt. 4

@kittenlittle24  @evelynrosestuff

Johnny was glad that he took up Violette on her offer because he had to get out of Los Angeles; Violette was a gracious host and they fell back in sync with each other. While she was at work, he took the opportunity to explore the area to find souvenirs for his kids and check up on them, other times he’d go through Violette’s books and movies and photo albums, which were his favorite things to do. The albums were completely filled up with pictures. There were pictures of her at weddings, work related parties, vacation pictures (lots of them), newspaper clippings of her accomplishments. It made him happy knowing that Violette became so successful and is well respected, because she deserves it.

When he heard the keys at the door, he quickly closed the book and turned up the volume on an episode of Chopped just as Violette walked in, shaking water off her umbrella and putting it in the stand.  “Sorry I’m late! I was held up with paperwork then there was a wreck, but on the plus side I got Italian!” It was nearly eight thirty when they sat down to eat, the both of them digging into their shrimp pasta as they filled each other in on their day. Since it was Friday and Violet didn’t have to be at work the next day, they watched TV together after dinner, the living room dark except for a lamp on a low setting. It was halfway through a second episode of Fraser, the one where Fraser accidentally tells Daphne about Niles’ feelings for her before the wedding when Johnny noticed Violette had fallen asleep.

Her head was tipped back and her chest was gently rising and falling; she looked so comfortable and peaceful he felt bad for waking her. Johnny shook her gently. “Hey Vi? It’s time to wake up, you’re gonna hurt your neck like that.” Slowly, Violette came to, lifting her head from the back of the couch, her eyes slowly opening. “Huh? What time is it?” 

Her voice was heavy with sleep and she stretched, arms above her head. “Bout time for you to go to bed. You fell asleep halfway through Fraser.” Violette knew he was right; she had a long day at work and now all she wanted was to apply a serum or two and get into bed. “You’re right, it’s been a long day. Do you want the bathroom first?” He shook his head no, and she smiled  before heading to her room.

“Good night Johnny.” They both headed their separate ways, and as he changed into his pajamas, Johnny could hear Violette doing her night time routine, the faucet running every few minutes as she rinsed her face. He checked his phone for messages, emails from his lawyer and Amber’s, two missed phone calls from his family about funeral arrangements, all things that can wait until tomorrow; he hooked it up to the charger and placed it face down. After a few more minutes, the faucet turned up for the last time, and Violette knocked twice before opening the door. “Bathroom’s all yours now.” 

He tried not to notice how long her legs looked in her pajama pants or how ample her chest looked, even in an oversized shirt. Frankly, ever since he got here, Johnny’s been trying to ignore how gorgeous Violette is; she looked good in just about everything she wore: her work clothes where the slacks she wore clung to her legs like a second skin, the leggings and tank tops he saw her in, drenched in sweat when she came back after a morning run. It was like acting in front of a green screen and trying to ignore how ridiculous Bill Nighy looks with black dots on his face as he wears a gray leotard. Johnny couldn’t ignore the fact that Violette has an ass and breasts, and he felt guilty checking her out when her back was turned, but what could he do? He certainly wasn’t going to tell a grown woman to cover up in her own home; with a sigh, he shuffled into the bathroom to do his business.

Meanwhile, Violette was in bed, simultaneously reading and going through her text messages; due to the torrential rain that would be coming this weekend, book club was cancelled (which she was grateful for because she’s kind of behind the rest of the group). Violette was just about to call it a night when a new message appeared, from Angela. I know you took my floral dress the other day. Mikayla said she saw you leave with it.  Yes, she did take the dress but that’s only because Angela took her favorite Dooney and Bourke handbag (something that happened months ago and Violette has yet to see it back in her closet) but unlike her sister, she plans on actually returning it. And what about it? she typed back. You can pick it up from the dry cleaner on Basin Street tomorrow, and you’re one to talk considering I haven’t seen my Dooney and Bourke purse since New Years.  

Once the message was sent, she went back to her book, which had five chapters left; Violette reached for the notebook and pen and started scribbling notes about the chapter when her phone buzzed again. Thank you. And as for your purse, I think Miki has it. It’s hanging on the doorknob of her closet. Probably thought it was mine. But how’s it going with Johnny? Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, and she didn’t know what to say. How is it going with Johnny? Violette wanted to tell her sister that things are great, like nothing’s changed between them, about her growing feelings for her ex husband, but all she texted back was that things are fine. 

Really, only fine? Leave it to Angela to be overly observant, might as well come clean now. It feels like nothing’s changed between us even though a LOT has. We’re cracking jokes, eating together, going out. It feels like old times. Violette knew what Angela was going to say next: that they need to slow down, how Johnny probably isn’t ready for another relationship when he already has so much going on. She hastily texted: And I know what you’re going to say next, but I can’t help it. He’s still Johnny. I gotta go, it’s late. 

She put her phone on the charger and placed it face down on the nightstand. Violette hoped that all her feelings toward Johnny could just be chalked up to not getting enough sex or boredom or loneliness, because really, what would a relationship with Johnny look like today? Probably a long distance relationship and media interference, and she’d had enough of that from last time to last a lifetime. Besides, Violette never dates men with children, and in her age group, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack to find a single male in their late forties/early fifties who doesn't have children. Shaking her head at the thought, she pulled the covers up over her head and waited for the air conditioner to kick on to lull her to sleep.

So this was how the rest of their week went, both of them pining over the other without the other’s knowledge: Johnny pretended not to notice her figure and his growing attraction and Violette pretended that she didn’t harbor romantic feelings for him, until one day Johnny couldn’t take it any longer. He brought up the question while they sat in Violette’s car at a snowball stand, the a/c blasting and the radio on a low volume. “Why are we doing this, Vi?” The question was so out of left field that she almost choked on a bubblegum flavored hunk of ice. “What do you mean?” she asked, sucking the bubblegum syrup from the ice. 

“I mean, why are we ignoring… whatever this is? We’re adults, Violette, we should be able to communicate with each other.” She was sure she was doing a good job at masking her feelings, but apparently she was wrong. “Because Johnny, it wouldn’t matter. Your life is in LA, with your children and work and my life is here. What could we actually do about it? You’re only here for another week.” Violette was actually glad that he brought it up now, because there was no way they would be able to do anything about it, since Johnny would be here for another week before going home. Leaving Violette alone with her unresolved feelings.

“And you already have so much going on. Are you sure this is what you want? If you’re ready for this?” Violette put another spoonful of her snowball in her mouth, sucking off the syrup until the ice was hard packed on her tongue. “Is that what you’re scared of? That I might leave again?” Johnny asked. “Not might, but will. As you can see, I don’t have a normal work schedule and I’m not a fan of long distance relationships.” And because I’m scared you could hurt me again,” she added in her head.

“Johnny, we’re not in the ‘80s anymore. We’re so different now, we always have been.” Johnny sighed before putting his cup in a cup holder. “We’re not that different, you’re still you and I’m still me. We’re older now, have more life experience. Violette, we were so young when we got married. And I moved on from her long before I thought about filing for divorce.” She took his words into consideration, really thinking about it. Was the reason why she never remarried is because that deep in her subconscious, Violette knew she and Johnny would make their way back to each other?

“Just one chance is all I’m asking. Please.” He looked so sincere, and the offer was so tempting. How many times had Violette had this dream of Johnny coming back to her and begging her to take him back? Too many times in the early days of their breakup, and Johnny was right, they’re older now, old enough to know what they want in their partners. “What do you say? Can you give me another chance? We can take it slow, whatever you want.”

Violette put the last spoonful of her snowball in her mouth, savoring the last bite as she thought it over. While she was a little apprehensive about the whole thing, she’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t at least a little curious as to how a relationship with Johnny would be like today. A lot of traveling back and forth, probably meeting his kids at some point. And what about long term? Would they live together?

 Get married (or in their case remarried)? “We’ll take it slow?” Violette asked, just to make sure. “As slow as you want,” he answered. Violette smiled and grabbed Johnny’s hand. “Okay.”

[fan4196]

How You Get the Girl

1989

(16x15 but it’s not Link at the door)

-

Stand there like a ghost

Shaking from the rain, rain

She'll open up the door

And say, are you insane, -ane?

Standing here right now, all the confidence he build up on his way up is gone. Simply gone. Looking at the brownish red medal door let's him rethink everything. He doesn't know if this was the right think to do anymore. He knows nothing is like it was when he left. Everything changed. Him leaving changed so much - for him, for her, everyone. Nothing could remake that mistake. He knows that leaving was the biggest mistake he could have ever made. And he needs to make it right again. He has no idea how but he at least has to try. After all that’s why he’s back - back to make things right again.

With a last deep breath he finally knocks on the door - hoping she was home but also hoping she wasn't. He doesn't know what she will say, what he will say, if she will listen or shut the door right in his face again. He shivers a little when he hears the door unlock and then squeal as it is pushed to the side.

"Oh my god." Her voice is surprised, her eyes look at him softly but also filled with tears and a little bit of anger. "Alex." Her voice is a whisper as she tightly pulls her arms around his neck. He did expect a lot but not this.

"Hi." He answers in a similar pitch as hers. Wrapping his arms around her as he buries his face in her hair.

He missed her so much. He can't describe how good it feels to hold her after what felt like years. She still smells like the prettiest wildflower field he ever knew, her hair is a little longer and also darker but she's still her.

"Are you insane? You're soaking." She starts worried as she unwraps her arms from his neck and quickly gets a towel while he's still standing in the door. "Give me this. Take your wet clothes off."

She grabs the suitcase from his hand and takes it inside while he quickly strips down his soaking wet jacked and takes his shoes and socks off.

"You wanna stay there forever or do you wanna come inside?" She asks with a smile as she puts his suitcase next to what used to be their bed.

"Jo I-"

Say it's been a long six months

And you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want

"It's been-" He starts as he slowly walks towards her.

"I know." She interrupts him as she looks up from her hands.

"Aren't you angry? Or- I don't know hate me?" He asks as he takes the place next to her on the little bench in front of what used to be their bed.

"I thought- I-" She takes his hand and looks at him with once again teary eyes, "I thought you were dead." She whispers, tears streaming down her face. "And whatever reason you had to not return my calls or texts, I'm just happy you're not dead." She squeezes his hand, "Which doesn't mean that I'm not hurt that you were somehow able to throw me away and ignore me like some piece of trash."

He opens his mouth to answer but he can't find the words. He doesn't know how to explain why he did what he did. Nothing can excuse what he did. He knows he needs to tell her but he's doesn't know how.

And that's how it works

That's how you get the girl

And then you say

I want you for worse or for better

I would wait for ever and ever

Broke your heart, I'll put it back together

I would wait for ever and ever

"You are not trash, Jo." He breaks the silence that lingered in the room for a few minutes. "I'm sorry you felt like I was abandoning you. That was never my intention. I'm sorry I was gone for six weeks." His last sentences a whisper before he takes a breath and continues, "But I want you, Jo. I married you because I love you, nothing will change that. I promised you for better, for worse. I'm sorry I didn't return your texts or calls I just- I needed time. But I’m back to make things right and I understand if you need time now too. I'll make it right again, I'll do everything to make it right again."

His tone is honest, his eyes are filled with tears too and his voice cracks during his last sentence. She knows that he means what he's saying. She knows she can trust him. But it was so easy for him to lie to her and leave - to ignore her - she doesn't know if her broken heart will ever recover from it if he does it again.

And that's how it works

That's how you get the girl, girl, oh

And that's how it works

That's how you get the girl, girl

Remind her how it used to be, be

Yeah, with pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks, cheeks

Silence lingers in the loft for a few seconds before he leans to her nightstand and grabs the picture frame that she put there the day after they returned from their honeymoon.

"I'm not the person that I was in this picture because time went on, life went on and it changed me but I'm still Alex - the stupid idiot that loves you so much that he can't imagine a life without you. I wanna grow old with you no matter what. I'm your Alex and nothing will ever change that."

Tell her how you must've lost your mind

When you left her all alone and never told her why, why

"I- ah I have kids Jo."

"What?"

"Izzie had my kids. Twins. A boy and a girl, they are five." He looks at her to see if she wants to say something but she keeps quiet as she turns her view away from him.

"When we reached out to the Doctors for Mer's trial, I also reached out to Izzie. We talked and I heard kids in the background. I asked her if she had kids and she said yes. She was silent for a few seconds after my question but then said that she used the frozen eggs. Since that second my brain didn't work properly anymore. It turned into autopilot and all I could think about was to go there and meet them. They are mine. They are perfect and I don't want to miss another second of their life but I love you - way to much to ever leave you behind. I could never do that and you now that because I told you so way to many times. I'm sorry I didn't tell you and I'm sorry I left you not knowing where I was. I'm sorry, Jo."

"You have kids." She answers still not looking at him.

"Yes." He answers simply.

"And you didn't tell me." She replies, turning her head to look at him for the first time again.

"I was afraid-"

"Of what? That I get angry at something you did years ago when you wanted to help your dying wife? Didn't we talk about that exact topic years ago? What were you afraid of?" She asks, looking at him.

"That I might loose you because another woman had my kids. That this news is just another trigger to push you back into depression. That- I don't know, my brain wasn't working properly. I just needed to figure it out on my own first." He answers holding eye contact because right now that's all he needs in this situation - seeing every single emotion and reaction she wasn't telling him verbally.

"And I get that. You shut down before you come and talk to me but why lying to me?" She asks not breaking eye contact either because she knows in serious conversations like this he needs to look her in the eyes.

"I don't know. I'm sorry." He answers a little more quiet than before.

A nod is all she answers. She knows that he’s sorry, he said it many times already, "What are their names?"

"Alexis and Eli." He answers simply, thinking about them for the first time since he set foot in what he once called home.

"You have a picture?"

"Yeah." He gets his phone out of his pocket and puts a picture up on it of the two five year olds smiling in the camera.

"They look so much like you."

"Mmhhh."

Silence lingers in the loft for a few minutes while they both keep looking at the picture.

"Please don't ever do something like this again, ok? Please talk to me or at least say something like 'Jo listen I need to do something. I can't talk about it yet but I will when I'm ready.' Ok?"

"I'm so sorry, Princess." He whispers as he buries his face deep in her necks.

"I know." Is all she answers, wrapping her arms a little tighter around his neck.

And that's how it works

That's how you got the girl

-

@thejolexgroupchat

[thiswasinevitableid]

2 bathtub and 9 folklore, sternclay, sfw, please!

Here you go! Barclay's design is based on a blue catfish.

He wanted the bigfoot assignment. Days spent tramping through the chilly forests of the pacific northwest instead of sweating off a pound a day in Louisiana swamps. But no, he’s assigned to the Loup Garou case until further notice, because one mammalian cryptid expert is as good as another.

It’s not like he’s devoted most of his career to bigfoot or anything.

Contrary to popular belief, FBI agents do not spend all their time in suits. As much as Stern aims to emulate Special Agent Dale Cooper, slacks and a suit jacket are not suitable for tromping through the mud and staving off the humidity. Between his outdoor wear and the tranquilizer rifle over his shoulder, he looks like he could be in some shitty seventies Sasquatch hunting movie.

His best lead is the strange, black fur he found near the location of the most recent sighting, and the ranger in the nearby national park assured him it didn’t come from any common wildlife. So it could be a human cursed to transform into a wolf every night. Or it could just be someone’s dog.

Dusk has come and gone before he turns back towards his cabin, rented for it’s proximity to the supposedly-Loup-Garou-harboring swamp and the reviews citing good water pressure and a large tub. Nothing like a nice bath or cold shower to wash off the heat and grime of the day.

A crack in the trees to his right. There’s something moving, paralleling him. He stops, nerves taught as a drawn bow.

The growl starts low, draws his eyes to a dark-furred shape creeping from the brush. It’s definitely canine, definitely bigger than him, and definitely sees him as dinner. Stern holds his ground, raises the rifle, not willing to fire until he’s certain this is his quarry. All doubts evaporate when it stands on its hind legs and howls. Human eyes lock onto him as the monster stalks forward.

Stern fires, hitting the werewolf in the shoulder. It doesn’t so much as stumble.

“Shit” He loads another dart, fires, and gets the exact same result. There’s no chance of outrunning it, and while he has his handgun he doesn’t want to resort to that unless he absolutely has to.

The creature lunges and Stern dodges, slipping into the water as a result. It swipes a claw out, which he keeps from his face by blocking it with the body of the rifle. His brief hope that the creature can’t swim is quashed when it prowls into the water after him. Something huge swim past his legs and he winces; if he dies by alligator instead of werewolf he’ll never hear the end of it.

As the monster surges forward, something huge bursts from the water between them, knocking Stern off balance in the process. His head goes under and when he scrambles up, spluttering, the werewolf is limping as fast as it can into the undergrowth. And floating face-down in front of him is a man, four jagged rips in his side tinting the water around them a sickly red.

“Sir?” Stern rolls the man over and, in spite of all his training, exclaims, “holy shit.”

The man doesn’t have legs. His hips give way to a smooth, grey-blue tail that twitches weakly when Stern touches him. The wound is visible here too, marring tail and torso alike. It doesn’t take a genius to put together what happened. Or that the Loup Garou won’t make it far with the bite the merman delivered. He could catch it. But he doubts the mer in front of him will survive without medical attention.

He loops his arms under a limp body and makes a mental note to never, ever tell Agent Hayes about this.

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

Barclays’ whole side is burning.

“Ow, Aubrey, easy with the healing.” He groans, rolling away from the feeling and immediately bonking his head on something cold and solid. Cracking an eye open reveals a white tub and wooden wall. Cautiously, he glances at his stomach and side and finds it bandaged. When he manages another half-turn, he finds a dark-wood bathroom with a human slumped against the wall. It’s the one he saved, though he’s down to a thin white shirt and what he knows to be boxers. For all the blood there must have been, the room and tub are spotless.

He raises up, hoping for a better look at a handsome face, only to catch his side on the edge of the tub.

“OWfuck!”

The man jolts awake, is by Barclay’s side in an instant, “Thank the lord, I was worried you’d lost too much blood to pull through.” He runs a hand through his black hair, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I was trying to monitor you for signs I’d have to give up and call the paramedics. I, um, assumed you didn’t want to just be dragged into a human hospital.”

“Yeah, no, not my fave.” His tail flutters awkwardly, “uh, why did you bring me here, then?”

“Because I wasn’t going to leave you to bleed out in a swamp. I learned field medicine for a reason; it’s nice to use it on someone other than myself. Or, well, not nice, but, um-”

“No, I get it. It’s just that, uh, I have lots of friends in the swamp. One of them probably woulda found me. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble or put me in a tub.”

“Oh.” The human sags a little, his confident smile faltering a moment.

“I mean, I really appreciate it. And it looks like you’re good at, uh, stitches and stuff.” He rubs his arms, “uh, sorry. I’m not used to waking up in unfamiliar guys bathtubs.”

“I’m not in the habit of keeping mermen in my tub so, um, I guess we’re even?” His smile is a little shyer, blue eyes reminding Barclay of a spring sky.

The mer holds out the hand on his uninjured side, “I’m Barclay.”

“Joseph” The man shakes it, “it’s nice to meet you. Is, um, is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Is the water alright? I can go get some from the swamp if that would be better.”

“As long as I don’t dry out I’ll be fine. Uh, do you have any food?”

“Some groceries, but if you want something specific I can run into town.”

Barclay weighs his hunger and wooziness against the desire not to reveal too much, and his stomach emerges triumphant, “Does this place have a take-out menu for the South Bank Cafe?”

“I...think so? Let me look” The human stands, walking out into another room on long legs that Barclay wants to loop around his waist, continues speaking as paper rustles, “I didn't know merpeople used take-out.”

“Uh, when they live close to humans they do. As long as some of those humans are willing to pick it up.”

Joseph returns, familiar pink menu in one hand and phone in the other, “What would you like?”

“Three fried oyster po’boys please.”

The human orders four of the sandwiches and some coconut cream pie on Barclay’s suggestion leaves the mer to nap while he goes to retrieve it. Charmingly, he puts all the food onto plates and pours the bottled sweet tea into glasses before arranging it on the bathroom floor.

“Cheers.” Joseph raises his glass. Barclay hesitates, trying to remember which human ritual this is, then clinks his own against it.

They barely talk until the plates are clean and Joseph is luxuriating in a second slice of pie, at which point the human explains what the fuck he was doing looking for a rougarou anyway. Barclay has given up on his desire to study the humans face as he eats and is laying on his back, eyes shut, feeling full and content in spite of the nagging pain in his side. Joseph reluctantly gave him painkillers, explaining he was worried about how human medicine would interact with mer biology. So far, all it’s done is made him drowsy.

“Barclay? Why did you get between me and the Loup Garou?”

“Because I didn’t want you to get killed. Like, for starters, I don’t want people to get hurt, and rougarous are nasty fuckers. But also when someone dies in the swamps, a lot of people blame mers for it. So it’s better if we keep humans from getting eaten on our turf.” He feels around for his tea, finds it when Joseph sets cool glass in his hand. His whole body is heavy.

A soft laugh, “Drugs kicking in?”

“Uh huh.”

A scuff as Joseph stands, “I’ll leave you to get some rest. I’m just in the next room, if you need me.” Two steps, then a pause, “actually, let me drain the tub some and put fresh water in.”

Barclay’s pretty sure he says thank you before he falls asleep.

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

Joseph wakes up at the cursing coming through the walls. Rounding the corner into the bathroom, he finds Barclay clutching his upper tail with one hand, gritting his teeth.

“What’s wrong?”

“Cramp, really fucking bad one, tends to happen when I get injured and can’t swim. Fuck me if I know why.”

“Here” he kneels next to the tub, water splashing onto his white tank top, “let me try rubbing it out. Is this the spot?”

“YeahOWoh, ohhhfuck” Barclay whimpers, “that’s helping, please keep going.”

He moves his fingers down the smooth skin, muscles spasming under his hands before they surrender to relaxation. Gradually Barclay un-tenses, his whimpers giving way to sighs, and Joseph isn’t really tending to his charlie horse anymore; he’s just petting his tail.

“Thanks, Jo-”

A scratch outside freezes them both. Joseph holds up his hand, signalling for Barclay to stay quiet. It’s the window. Something is opening the window. Worse, a count of five later, the cabin groans as something heavy reaches the floor.

His gun is in the other room, because he’s not about to sleep with it on his person. To get to it, he’ll have to put himself right in the path of the intruder dragging themselves across the floor.

The door creaks open, revealing red eyes in the darkness of the cabin.

“Shit.” He starts to stand, keeping himself between the threat and Barclay.

“There you are. Goodness, we were all worried sick.”

Joseph stays still, but Barclay tries to sit up, “Indrid!”

Their visitor slithers into the room, his upper body human but his tail reminding Stern of a Cottonmouth, “We’ve been looking for you all day; Dani found blood at your watch site but not you. I even swam to the park to ask Duck if he’d seen you.”

“Uh huh, I’m sure that was your only reason.”

“Hush.” He turns his alarming gaze on Joseph, “I saw you ending up with this human in many timelines, but I put off following them for fear of being seen. But he’s taking this rather well.”

“I’m an FBI agent with the UP. Handling strange phenomena with grace is basically my job.”

“Intriguing.” Indrid cocks his head, then his face goes blank for a moment. When life returns to it, he coils his tail to settle next to Barclay, “it seems the most positive timelines occur if you continue your convalescence here. In that case, I’ll leave you be and let the others know you’re alright. I’ll stop by again in a few days. And yes, Joseph, since you’re about to ask, I will knock this time.”

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

Barclay spends most of the next three days eating and sleeping, the combination of pain and painkillers making him sluggish. Joseph is better company than he ever could have hoped for, changing his bandages and sharing meals while regaling him with stories of the world beyond the swamps.

The human rises early, so he’s usually gone to work by the time Barclay wakes up. He’s feeling better this morning, so his internal clock wakes him just as the sound of water in the sink fills the room.

Joseph is bent over, naked from the waist up and using a coffee mug to dump water onto his hair. Beside him is a tube labeled, “compact body wipes.”

“Uh, what are you doing?”

The human starts, but then replies, “getting ready for the day. I have to go into town to meet with the sheriff about this case.”

“Can’t you just use the tub? I can make room, it’s big enough for both of us.”

Joseph’s whole torso is going pink, “I, um, assumed you didn’t want me randomly turning up in your space naked.”

He shrugs, “I’m naked right now.”

“Right.” Joseph gingerly sets the mug down, “right. I guess you are. Um. I don’t mean to be rude, since this is mainly a difference in mer and human culture, but would you be willing to close your eyes while I shower?”

Barclay nods, scoots to the far end of the tub while Joseph pulls the plug to keep the bath from overflowing. Then he shuts his eyes, focuses on the splashes up his legs, the change in the tempo of the falling water that signals it hitting a human body. Joseph showers efficiently, turns the steam mint scented with one of the bottles he keeps in the corner of the tub. Then he’s telling Barclay to open his eyes, towel wrapped around his waist and smile on his face.

“I feel much better.”

Barclay doesn’t bother to hide his staring, “Me too.”

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

Joseph hasn’t liked bathtime this much since his uncle gave him that rubber Nessie bath toy when he was five. Barclay is a much more enjoyable companion, even with his eyes closed. Joseph's also taken to wearing swim trunks and just sitting with him in the tub under the pretense of cooling off from the heat.

It’s not like his morning or evening rinse off lacks competition; Barclay is well enough that, through the use of a wheelbarrow, he can take trips to the back porch of the cabin to swim. His strength has weakened as a result of bedrest, but he’s improving quickly, and Joseph will often end up in the water with him to help him with particular stretches.

The first time another mer pops out of the water, he jumps with a combination of joy and alarm. Courtesy of Indrid, all the merfolk in the area know Joseph is trustworthy, which means he has even more people to question for his research. This is especially good because it means he and Barclay can talk about things other than work when they’re together. Barclay’s friends also offer information about the Loup Garou. So much, in fact, that Joseph determines there is something much larger than a single monster at play and is able to convince Hayes to let him continue the investigation indefinitely until he finds his answers.

When he gets the okay from his boss, he and Barclay celebrate with a massive dinner on the deck. As the mer hauls himself up out of the water after his final dip he slips, splashing sideways into a muddy patch. By the time Joseph gets them both inside, their skin and clothes are a mess.

“Here, let me rinse us off before I fill the tub for you.” Joseph turns on the shower, awkwardly straddling Barclay’s tail as he reaches to detach the head. He knows the mer is staring at him, his usually gentle gaze gaining an edge the way it always does when Joseph is down to his underwear or swim trunks. It doesn’t bother him; it seems a fair trade off for all the times he’s admired Barclays back and tail as he swam.

He turns, intending to hand the showerhead to the mer, only to lose his footing to a splotch of mud. It’s a graceless landing on his knees and Barclays’s tail, narrowly missing the fresh scar.

“Shit, that was close.”

“No kidding.” Barclay picks up the showerhead, turning it to a softer setting and rinsing off his tail. A teasing edge enters his rumble, “careful, might think you’re looking for ways to keep me here forever.”

“I guarantee none of them involve hurting you” he shuts his eyes as he lets the mer clean his neck. Then snaps them open when Barclay chuckles.

“That mean you have thought of some.”

“Yes. Not, um, not that I’d ever act on them. As much as I love your company, I don’t want you stuck in my tub forever.”

“You just want me to visit every day?”

“Um-”

“Or take you swimming in the evenings?”

“I-”

“Or let me finally watch you shower with my eyes open?” He flicks his tail playfully.

“I’ll admit all those crossed...my...mind.” Time turns to ice as Barclay leads forward, nuzzling his nose before bringing their lips together.

“Crossed mine too. I was so happy when you said you were staying.” He strokes Joseph’s cheek, “there’s so many fucking things I wanna do with you now that I’m getting better.”

“How many of them involve this tub?” Joseph kisses a teasing line across his cheek.

An adoring growl, “Plenty, babe.”

[kaitycole]

A Year After: Sawyer

Summary: What happens in the 365 days since Morgan left Sweetridge for her dream job in Boston.

Word Count: 2629

Pairing: Sawyer x Morgan (F) (Past tense) Sawyer x ???

Rating: PG-13, there’s smut but it’s pretty tamed

Tag List: @desiree—1986​ @kacie-0156​ @shakespeareanwannabe​

A/N: This is the second part which follows Sawyer once Morgan leaves.

P.S. This is prior to me reading Book Two as well as a modified ending to Book One.

“I….”

“Seriously? Did everything that’s happened the last few weeks mean so little to you?”

“No! Sawyer, I couldn’t say goodbye because the last few weeks have meant everything to me! All last night, I kept trying to find the right moment to tell you, but every time…I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Sawyer shakes his head repeatedly, “I just don’t believe it. You could’ve said something when we snuck off, before we…we…”

He doesn’t finish his statement, he just turns away from her, hopping back up on his horse.

“Sawyer…”

“Hope that job gives you everything you want, Morgan.”

She watches as he taps the horse’s side, causing his horse to start walking back up to the ranch. Getting back in the car, she looks back at the Oakley’s, Cliff patting his son’s shoulder as he walks into the house.

I’m doing the right thing, right? This is what I’ve been working towards for years.

“Alright Spike, let’s go.” She looks over to at the cactus, but for some reason she gets the feeling that if it could, it would give her a disapproving look.

Fall

“What did you expect, Sawyer? She was just passin’ through and you barely knew each other.” Duke starts on his lecture as Sawyer aggressively shovels hay in the barn.

It has been three months since Morgan left, taking that fancy schmancy job in Boston, leaving the Montana gang behind her. But based off Sawyer’s behavior, you’d have thought that she left yesterday. Duke has never seen his brother this low over a girl before, sure he had a few interests in high school that ended, but this was different.

He props the shovel up against the wall before sitting on the floor. He runs his hands through his hair after sitting his hat on his knee.

“I guess I just thought she meant what she said.”

“I know it’s hard, but it does get easier, Sawyer.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” Standing up, he kicks the ground before walking out of the barn, not really feeling any better from his brother’s version of a pep talk.

Later that night, Sawyer let’s Juliette and Curly convince him to join their bonfire. Dallas and Jo are already there when they finally walk up.

“Hey y’all!” Juliette says as they all sit around the fire, seeing Sawyer looking at the spot that had been Morgan’s not so long ago.

“Are you excited for Smalltown, USA to come?” Jo says, trying to break the awkward silence.

“I think it will be a big thing for Sweetridge. Help put us more on the map,” Curly shrugs.

“What about you, Sawyer?”

“If it’s fixin’ to end like the last time a stranger came here, stayed and then just up and left, I think I’ll pass.” He pushes himself up and walks away.

“Morgan leaving really tore him up, didn’t it?” Jo asks as Juliette nods.

“I’ve never seen him this upset before, but you can’t blame him. Her leaving threw us all for a loop.”

“Should one of us go talk to him?” Curly asks, hating seeing a friend so upset.

“He’s not ready for help. But when he is, he’ll come askin’.”

*                      *

He finds himself driving with no real destination. Constantly flipping through the stations to try and find something to stop on. Every song so far has been one they listened to, reminded him of her or that she loved.

I've changed the presets to my truck,

                    So those old songs don't sneak up.

                                            But they still find me

                                                                   And remind me

                                                                                Yeah you come back that easy

He slams on his breaks, pulling his truck over to the side of the road before he slams his palms against the steering wheel. He assaults the steering wheel some more, before he screams, “Fuck!”

Sawyer takes a deep breath, pulling himself together even though the tears on his cheeks show that he’s actually falling apart.

“Come back Morgan, come back to me,” his voice is low, almost a whisper, “Please.” His voice cracks as a sob escapes.

Winter

The Oakley’s, Mendoza’s and friends are all gathered together, watching their episode of the reality TV show.

“We can clearly see who the main character of this episode is,” Juliette jokes, nudging Sawyer’s shoulder with her knee since he was sitting on the floor in front of her.

“I’m just flaunting what my Momma gave me,” he playfully shrugs.

“I really hope we don’t get an influx of people moving in. I’d hate for the smalltown charm to be taken over.” Asha says, “Tourists I’m fine with. Residents, not so much.”

“I can agree with that,” Cliff said.

“You think Morgan is watching this?” Curly says, slightly hopeful.

Almost everyone gives him a dirty look before hearing Sawyer sigh, “If she was ever the girl I thought I knew, I’d say she is. She has to miss y’all.”

Juliette rubs his shoulder, “She misses you too, Sawyer.”

He shrugs, standing up, “Yeah, I don’t know about all that. ‘Scuse me, I need some air.”

Juliette follows Sawyer outside, “She’d be a fool not to think about you.”

He shakes his head, “The only fool is me, thinking that what she and I had was anything more than some fling.”

She wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Their friendship was the perfect solace for Sawyer, Juliette didn’t demand anything back but for his support when she needed it and help when she found herself in trouble.

He winces, her brow knits as she gently slides his shirt up, revealing dark purple bruises, “Ohmygod! Sawyer what is that!”

“Looks like a bruise to me,” was not the proper response he learned when she swatted his arm, “I got roughed up training for the rodeo.”

“What!?! I didn’t know you were training.”

“I just needed something to do to get her out of my head.”

“By the looks of this, she’s still in your head.” Her fingertips gently rub over the bruises.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to the top of her head. He takes a deep breath, inhaling her scent. They’ve never walked so close to the edge before. They were friends, that’s all. Sure, they were each other’s better half, but that’s just what best friends right?

“Jules ,” he whispers as he pulls her chin up towards him. He presses his lip to her, trying to find comfort, find what he’s been missing since Morgan left, but he doesn’t.

“Sawyer,” she pushes him away slightly. Looking at his face, she sees pure guilt. She places a hand on his cheek, giving him a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry.” He kicks the dirt at his feet.

“I’m not mad, but that isn’t how you’re gonna get over this.”

“I know.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.

She loops her arm with his, “Let’s go drink, huh? Oh, and Sawyer?”

“Yeah?”

“You ain’t half bad at kissing.”

Spring

“And the winner is Dick Mullagen, with a score of 86!” The crowd is a mix of cheering and boos after the announcer give the name of the winner.

“That’s a bunch of horse manure if you ask me,” Curly says, “He had that one in the bag!”

“Hey, here he comes,” Jo says as Sawyer walks over to the group.

“Just need a little more practice, is all,” Cliff says, patting his son on the back of his shoulder, “I’m still proud of you, son.”

“Thanks dad.” Sawyer smiles, it’s the first sincere smile he’s worn since Morgan left.

“Hey Oakley,” Dick yells from behind him, “I’d say better next time, but we all know I’ll win.”

Sawyer rolls his eyes.

“Do you think his mother knew he was going to be a total dick or that he became a dick because that’s his name?” Dallas asks, causing the whole group to erupt in laughter.

*                      *

“You done training for the day, Oakley?”

He pulls on Dolly’s harness, stopping her before looking over at Juliette. She was carrying a pitcher of lemonade. He hops off his horse and joins her for a glass.

“Refreshing, Mendoza.” He winks at her.

The two have seemingly moved passed the kiss they shared, but each would be lying if they said they weren’t thinking about it. A few touches lingered, cheeks blush and late nights lasted longer.

They weren’t going to overstep the wall between friends and more than friends again because they couldn’t. Not because of the feud or that they were being stubborn. Sawyer knew Juliette, she was his best friend, and she deserved someone who would give her the world. Sawyer knew he couldn’t give her that, right now she’d just be a rebound, something she never deserved to be for anyone.

But he wouldn’t say no to some harmless flirting.

“How are you feeling nowadays? You haven’t mentioned her lately?” Juliette says, sitting next to him.

“Better. I think I just needed to find what made me happy again.” He sighs, “I still miss her though. It just doesn’t hurt as badly.”

“As long as it’s not destroying you, it’s completely normal.”

He sighs, leaning his head on her shoulder, “Is it wrong that if given the chance, I’d want to try again with her?”

“Nope. Not at all. As long as you don’t lose yourself.” She tilts her head, resting it on his, “I’ll be here for you, every step of the way.”

Summer

Sawyer wipes the sweat from his brow before placing his hat back on. Dolly trotted up to him, nudging him with her snout.

“You want a treat, girl?” Sawyer chuckles.

“Neiigghh!” The horse exclaims before chopping down on the carrot Sawyer holds out for her.

“We have another busy day today, Dolly.”

The horse’s demeanor changes, her ears duck down and she shakes her head.

“I know girl. But you’ll get extra carrots, how’s that?” Sawyer rubs the mare’s neck. She seems okay with this exchange and trots off before he can change the deal.

Shaking his head, he laughs before he hears a high pitch squeal and turns to see Brit. He puts on a smile, not his typical charming one, but a smile nevertheless.

“Sawyer!” She throws her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her.

“Hey Brit. You ready?”

“Of course!” She steps back and does a twirl, “Like my outfit?”

Sawyer looks down the slender blonde’s outfit, it was once again not an appropriate one, but she never listened to him. She has on a strappy short sundress with brand new cowboy boots. Clearly, they were bought when she first met Sawyer. Her long blonde hair was braided and tossed to the side.

“You look nice, Brit.” He bites the inside of his lip. Sawyer gathers up a horse for her and whistles for Dolly to join them.

After exerting little effort, she pokes out her lip and stomps her foot, “Sawyeerrr!” She whines, “I need help!”

He walks over to her, holding the top of the saddle and has his hand on her back, “Just step up and then swing your leg over.”

“Yay! I did it!” She squeals.

“You sure did,” he walks over to Dolly, who just stares at him. He lowers his voice, “oh hush.”

Once he is on Dolly, the two of them begin riding around the field.

*                      *

“I really enjoyed today, Sawyer,” Brit says before they stop and he hops off.

“I’m glad that you did. You’re getting a lot better.” He places his hand on her lower back to help her get down.

“I’m even better at riding in other ways,” she gives him a flirtatious smile as his face turns completely red.

“Now Miss Brit, that’s no way for a lady to talk.”

She tosses her head back, laughing, “If you’d let me, I’d show you I’m not lady.” She places her hand on his arm, letting it linger against his muscles.

“Same time tomorrow, Cowboy?”

“Same time tomorrow,” he tips his hat towards her before she walks away from him.

Reaching down, he grabs a carrot for each mare before he hears Curly yell, “Morgan, wait!”

He snaps his head in their direction, “Morgan?” He drops the carrot, much to Dolly’s dismay and runs after her.

“Morgan! Morgan, stop!” He shouts, pushing himself to run faster. “Wait!” He hits him palms on the hood of her car, almost daring her to drive off.

“Sawyer, move please.”

“Not until you talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to say,” her voice cracks, the tears falling.

“Get out of the car, please.”

“Just move, let me go.”

“Get out of the car, dammit!”

With a small huff, she gets out of the driver’s side before he walks over and stands in front of her.

“Don’t you have some blonde to get back to,” her voice is sharp.

He chuckles, “You mean Brit? Jealous?”

“As if. She looks as smart as that fence post.”

He chuckles again before explaining to her what Brit was doing at the ranch. That ever since Smalltown, USA aired the episode on Sweetridge, that tons of people came to the Oakley ranch for horseback riding lessons. How his brother sold him out since the women would pay extra for Sawyer to teach them.

She looked up at him completely embarrassed, her face burning red while her mouth once again went dry.

“I’m sure that’s not why you came back here though.” He has one hand pressed against the car by her head while the other hangs by his side “Why’d you come back, Morgan?”

Sawyer would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad she was back. That he had dreamed of this moment for a whole year now. But he was trying so hard to not let himself go there, he couldn’t go through that pain again.

“You.” Her voice in low, raw from the emotions flooding over her.

He leans into her, a huge smile on his face, “What was that?”

Looking up, she catches the look in his eye. It was the same look she’s had since leaving Boston the second time. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him into her because she presses her lips to his. He wraps his arms around her waist, pushing her into him, deepening the kiss.

“Sawyer,” she moans, feeling him kiss down her neck.

“Oh, get a room, would ya!” Curly and Juliette yell at the couple.

“That’s not a bad idea,” she winks as he picks her up, “Then let’s go.”

*                      *

Morgan has her head resting on Sawyer’s chest, one of his arms wrapped around her. They lay there, wrapped in nothing but each other and a thin sheet.

“Morgan,” his breathing is slow, she swore he had fallen asleep.

“Yes?”

“What about Boston?” He feels her stiffen next to him, “I can’t do this again if you’re just gonna leave.”

She sits up, looking over at him, “I quit.”

“You quit?”

“I left Boston for good. I quit my job. I came here…for you. For us.” She takes a deep breath, “That is, if you’ll take me back.”

He runs his finger through his hair as he sits up, “Morgan, I…I don’t want you to regret leaving Boston.”

“I went there, I was miserable without you.” She straddles his lap, “I want to be here. With you.”

He chuckles as she reaches over and placing his black hat on her head, “What on earth are you doing?”

“If I’m going to stay here, I think I need a refresher course on riding,” she winks just before he pulls her into his chest and kisses her, “And I hear you’re the perfect teacher.”

[sladedick]

Hi! Here’s a prompt: Joey and Grant finding out Slade’s been ignoring them because he’s been busy fucking *coughrapingcough* Robin, them getting annoyed and going, ‘what’s so good about Robin anyway?!’, and then fucking(raping) Robin themselves to find out. Except Slade walks in on them, and is not impressed to see his property being touched by his other property.

anon your brain is MASSIVE. *flashbacks to that “robin and the wilsons” fic i’ve been meaning to write for ages*

content: nobody should read this, rape, underage, incest, im so self indulgent but i wuv them

ao3

Where did you get that? Joey signs. The key gleams in the light, Grant slipping it in the lock and turning it with a small click. The door to the basement opens with a slow creak.

“Pops needs to learn to be more careful with his keys,” Grant hisses back. There’s no reason to whisper, what with Ma being gone and Pops being out, but it feels like they should. Joey shifts from foot to foot nervously. Grant pushes past his brother to start down the stairs, Joey glancing nervously back as he starts down. The door remains cracked.

I still don’t know what we’re doing here, Joey tells him.

“He’s spending more time down here than with us,” Grant says angrily, a few steps ahead.

Isn’t that a good thing? Joey wants to ask, but it’s always pointless to interrogate Grant about Slade.

Grant reaches the bottom of the stairs, but it’s so dark that Joey almost bumps into him.

Are you sure we should be -

“Shut up, Jo,” Grant mutters, fumbling for the light switch. It flicks on to a small, cold room. They’ve been in the basement before, but this time it seems crueler, somehow. A door towers on the right, but their eyes are drawn to something else - the boy curled up on the ground, blinking dull eyes at them.

Dark, stringy hair falls around a deathly pale face. The boy’s utterly naked, and Joey thinks that he must be cold by the way he wraps his arms around himself and huddles in the corner. The chain is connected to a loop on his collar, snaking around him and latched to the wall.He had some idea of what Slade was keeping in the basement - the food he brought down there gave some idea. Grant seems less surprised. He must’ve known.

“He’s more interested in this than in his real family,” Grant says viciously. He doesn’t seem entirely sure of himself, now that he’s found the object of his anger, but he steps forwards anyways.

Careful, Joey signs. The boy looks like he might be feral or … something. He’s filthy, but it’s hard to tell the dirt caked under his nails apart from the bruises that stain his skin. But he doesn’t move, or hurt Grant.

“Don’t worry,” Grant says. Joey follows after him, hiding behind his brother’s wider figure. The boy’s eyes go wide at the mention of Slade, but he still doesn’t move. “I know what to do. I saw.” His eyes narrow. A hand fumbles with his belt, fingers slipping below the waistline.

Joey makes an indignant face. Grant!

“It’s what Slade does,” Grant says. Joey can see him hardening, working himself to readiness. “I want to see how he like this.”

Grant, are you sure -

Grant turns on him. “C’mon, Jo, it’ll be fine. It’ll be fun.” He pulls him closer. “Just follow my lead.” Grant’s cock slips out of his fly, one hand still on it as he grabsa hold of the chain to yank the boy forward. He stumbles, eyes wide. Joey catches sight of between his legs - barely any hair, and no dick, just a cunt.

“Please - ” the voice is cracked, as if it hasn’t tasted water in days.

“C’mon,” Grant says. The head of his cock bumps against a bruise on the boy’s cheek. “You know what to do. Do what you did for Pops.” A hand grabs at the boy’s stringy hair. “Suck.”

Wide blue eyes stare. Then, the boy shakes his head. Grant looks furious. He tries to force fingers into the boy’s mouth, prying apart his lips as his opponent shakes his head, despite the hand in his hair. Saliva gets all over Grant’s fingers as he tries to force the boy’s mouth open, hissing in anger.

“Fucking hell.” The rough tones are deeper and crueler than Grant’s. The boys only have a split second chance to react before Grant is being tugged away, Joey taking a step back. “I leave you boys alone for three fucking hours.”

Slade stares down in disgust at the boy at his feet. “And you. I bet you begged for it, didn’t you, slut?”

The boy shakes his head, eyes wide, speaking more words than Joey has heard from him. “No - no - I told him no - ”

Grant is fumbling with his still-hard dick and his fly. “He tried to bite me!”

Slade snaps his fingers. “Shut up, both of you.” He points at Grant and Joey. “If you’re so desperate to be down here, you’ll help.” Then he turns on the boy at his feet. “You tried to bite him.”

The expression on the other boy’s face is one of the purest expressions of fear that Joey has ever seen. “I’m sorry,” he babbles, whispered and low. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean - I don’t - I wouldn’t have - I’m sorry, please -”

“Guess you aren’t well trained enough, then.” Slade crouches, drawing another key from his belt. It slips into the lock of the boy’s collar. “Good. You’ll serve as a lesson.” The boy’s eyes are wide, and he’s shaking his head, scrabbling at the stone with worn-down fingernails.

“Master - please - I didn’t mean to.”

“Stand up, boy.” The child shudders to his feet and Joey can see how small he is - much smaller than Grant, but only a little bigger than himself. “Hands against the wall. Like that.”

Pops, Joey signs, realizing his own hands are shivering. Pops, what are you doing?

“Punishing my property,” Slade says, barely even glancing in Joey’s direction. Another whimper from the pale boy. Grant’s eyes are narrowed. “Pay attention, boys.”

The slick sound of Slade’s pocketknife opening makes Joey nervous, but it only seems to make Grant more excited. His eyes are bright and cruel. They remind Joey of Slade, vicious in the light.

The tip of the knife presses against the nameless boy’s back. Joey can see the muscles taut beneath it, the underfed body tensing with fear. “What’s it going to be this time, I wonder?” Slade muses. There are scars crisscrossing the boy’s back, some too faded to read, some disappearing into the mess of roping tissue. Joey watches in horror as the knife sinks in, deeper than it has any right to go, crimson blooming around the cut.

The only sound as Slade cuts is the whimpering of the boy who’s being cut into, hands pressed flat against the wall as he shakes.

“Stay still,” Slade says, “or the next place this knife is going is your cunt.”

Joey marvels at the strength of will it must take to stay still, but the boy barely moves as Slade cuts, and cuts, and cuts, until any rhyme or reason to them is lost in the deluge of blood. Vomit burns in the back of Joey’s throat. A hand grabs his wrist, and Joey sees that it’s Grant, eyes lit up with that horrible fervor. Grant pulls Joey closer by his hand, as if he wants him to see.

It’s hard to tell when Slade is finally finished, wiping the flat of the blade off against the boy’s shoulder. “If he acts up,” Slade says, “you give him a reminder of his place.” He turns to Grant, and offers him the knife. “Punish him.”

The boy makes a choked, shivering sound. Grant steps forward, cruelty in his eyes. He shakes his head “Please - ”

“He’ll beg like a girl,” Slade sneers, “but don’t let it get the better of you, son. He’s not sorry until he’s screaming.”

The boy’s body shudders. Blood glints in the light, dripping down his bare thighs and puddling at his feet. Grant yanks the boy’s hair, pushing his head back, placing the knife against the filthy skin of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” the boy whispers. Joey just stares. He’s left staring a lot, feeling something cold in his gut. This is the kind of thing that happens in the dark, he knows. The thought of doing something - that thought doesn’t cross his mind, though. Not with Slade there.

The knife dips below the skin. The cry is sharper this time, Grant holding the boy’s face in place as he digs the knife in. This time, Joey can see the letter the blood is forming - a G, in childish hand, another stroke with every agonized grasp.

“There we are,” Slade murmurs. “Show him what happens when he disobeys.”

Joey’s hands are shaking. He thinks he makes a choking noise, but it’s too small, too twisted by cut vocal cords. Fingers curl and uncurl, trying to find warmth in his jean pockets.

The knife leaves the skin. Grant doesn’t let go of the boy’s hair, darkness stringing between his fingers. He pants in the light, blood on his blade.

Slade slowly works Grant’s hands out of the boy’s hair. “You wanted him to suck you off, isn’t that right, boy?” Grant nods wordlessly, his hand in Slade’s before it’s dropped. “So make him.” Slade kicks, suddenly; the boy falls to his hands and knees with a cry as his legs go out. He stares up at them all with wide blue eyes - darker than Joey’s own, but with something broken inside them.

“Get him on his knees,” Slade murmurs. Then he crouches, still looming over the boy, who looks smaller than ever, “and make him listen. Hit him.”

Grant’s fist pulls back. Joey winces at the vicious crack that echoes through the basement. The boy’s head jolts, snapping to the side.

“Good.” Slade’s voice is cool, calm, like when he taught Grant to nail wood into boards. “Now hit him again.”

Grant’s eyes gleam. Joey looks away as his boot snaps forward. When he looks back through squinted eyes, the boy’s head hangs low, blood gushing from his nose.

He yanks the boy’s head back by his hair. “Tell him what he’s going to do. Be clear. He’s a stupid little thing.”

“You’re going to open your mouth and suck my dick,” Grant says plaintively.

Pale, thin lips open, cutting the trail of blood from the boy’s nose in half. Slade smiles. All Joey can see is the pink of his tongue. “See? Just a little slut. Needs to be reminded what he’s good for, that’s all.”

Grant is already fumbling with his fly. He’s still hard, pulling the boy’s lips flush with his crotch as soon as he can and groaning at the sensation. Saliva dribbles down the boy’s chin, eyes wide. Joey’s mesmerized by Grant moving in and out, gasping as he fucks his cock into the boy’s mouth. There’s a beat of jealousy there, too, and Joey’s sure that Grant doesn’t like the boy as much as he likes him.

Slade slaps the boy’s thigh, hard. “Put some effort into it, whore.” Then he turns his eyes to Joey, and Joey doesn’t like that at all. But when Slade’s finger beckons, Joey can’t refuse, moving forwards to stand behind the boy with Slade. Slade is pulling the boy back by his hips, pushing up his ass until he’s forced to be on all fours if he wants to balance. Grant has his hands in the boy’s hair, pulling him faster onto his dick, the room filled with his panting and the slick sound of saliva.

Joey stands, eyes wide. Slade’s fingers dip into the folds of the boy’s cunt, coming out slick. He laughs.

Is he - does he like it? Joey asks, hands still shivering a little.

“Of course he does.” Joey can see the wetness stringing between Slade’s forefinger and middle finger. “Look at this cunt. It’s begging for something in it. Come here, Jo.”

Joey moves closer, staring at the drying blood on the boy’s back, the obscene way the back of his head moves as he chokes on Grant. Before he can do anything else, Slade’s fingers hook in the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down to his thighs.

“You ready?” Joey looks down at himself. He’s not hard, not nearly, but Slade’s rough fingers are tracing the shaft and his thumb is teasing the head, and Joey can’t help but let out a low hiss of air. He hardens in seconds under Slade’s fingers, Slade pulling him to his knees.

“There we are,” Slade murmurs. He’s making Joey ache, so much that he pushes forwards, shuffling on his knees as Slade guides his cock into the other boy’s cunt. It’s hot, and wet, and it grips him tight. Joey lets out a hissing sort of moan, just kneeling there, letting his cock sink in.

“Tight, isn’t it?” Slade says. He’s in good humor, now, eyes glinting in the light in the same way that Grant’s do. Joey can see the boy’s head bobbing, Slade murmuring next to him. “Go on. Fuck him.” He presses on the small of Joey’s back to get him to move, and he does, with a small snap of his hips.

Joey’s never been inside anyone before. This is too easy, and it feels to good. His hands grab at the boy’s hips, smaller fingers contrasting against large bruises, pushing himself further inside. There are small sounds slipping from his lips as he starts to move, slowly, savoring every second of it.

The boy shudders around him. The slick sounds from how Grant fucks him makes Joey even harder. He stares up at his brother. Grant is grinning at him, fingers tight in the boy’s dark hair. “This is so fucking good, Joey.” Joey looks as Slade. He’s got a half-smile on his face, too, leaning back on the balls of his feet and watching them. They’re enjoying themselves. Joey should be enjoying himself, too, shouldn’t he?

He is. He has to be. His cock is buried in something tight and slick, the sound of skin on skin as he moves himself in and out. Joey can feel himself getting close, already. It’s the kind of thing Grant might tease him for. But he doesn’t think the boy clenching around him will care.

Grant is first, though. He’s gasping sharper, and then he’s staring at Joey, pulling the boy’s head further onto him. “I’m going to, I’m gonna - ”

Slade is there, one hand on Grant’s shoulder, one hand around the base of his cock. “No. You’re not.” Grant’s face is sweaty, indignant, eyes wide as he glares.

“No - Slade - fucking - ”

“You’re going to beg me to let you come,” Slade murmurs. “You’re going to ask politely to use my property.” Fingers slowly trace Grant’s length, one hand fondling his balls. “You’re going to apologize for touching my things.”

Grant’s face is red, hands trying to push Slade away. “Fuck you - jackass - fuck -” His hips are rutting into Slade’s hand, Slade murmuring right in his ear.

“Say you’re sorry, son.”

“Fuck - fine! I’m fucking sorry! Now just let me - let me fucking - ” Slade’s hands leave and Grant’s hips jerk one last time, come dribbling onto the face of the boy in front of him. Grant gasps, his groans filling the room. It pushes Joey over the edge, grabbing the boy’s hips one last time before finishing as far in him as he can reach, blood staining his fingers.

When Joey looks back up, Grant is coming towards him, dick half-tucked in his pants. Joey pulls himself out of the boy - come leaks out between puffy lips, dribbling down pale thighs. The boy shivers on his hands and knees, trying to move towards the ground, but a heavy hand grabs his collar.

“We’re not done with you, slut.” Slade is tugging him upwards and prying his lips open. Joey notices Slade’s erection pushing at his jeans. He stares at Grant and Joey. “Grant, spread his cheeks. Jo - ”

“Please,” the boy begs, “please, it hurts - ” Thick fingers wrap around his throat. Slade keeps talking as if the boy hadn’t said anything, but Joey can see the body beneath him twitching with the lack of oxygen.

“Don’t let him convince you,” Slade explains, to Joey’s pale expression. “He’ll be begging like a whore soon enough. The bitch doesn’t know what he wants.” He shakes the boy a little, and he shudders more. “Jo, take your first two fingers, get them in his ass. If you don’t pry him open, it’ll be hard to move.”

Joey doesn’t dare disobey. He slips his index finger into the puckered hole, Grant’s eyes on him, and then presses his middle finger in with considerably more difficulty. It’s tight.

“Scissor your fingers,” Slade says. “Open him up.” Joey’s fingers move, back and forth, prying him as wide as he can. It’s hard, at first, but it gets easier as he moves. “See if you can fit in a third finger.” There’s a choked whimper, but the boy - now out of Slade’s grip - doesn’t say anything. With some difficulty, Joey slips in a third finger. Muscles clench around him, as if trying to expel him from the body.

“Spread your fingers as wide as you can.” Joey does, trying to pull him wide. There’s blood there, and he wonders if it hurts. He could stop. He could tell Slade he doesn’t want to do this.

But he doesn’t.

“Now curve them.” Slade has a wicked smirk on his face. Joey does, though, scraping nails along the inside of the boy’s warm body. The boy jerks under him, a low groan coming from his lips. His hips move back to pressing Joey’s fingers into him.

On some level, he is enjoying it.

“You have to know how to touch him,” Slade says. “He turns right into a bitch in heat, though, doesn’t he?” His voice almost sounds fond. “Anytime he tries to act uppity, just show him his place. It’s easy enough.” He turns back to Grant and Joey. “See if you can fit yourself into him. Share with your brother. He’s got two holes.”

“Here, lemme help.” Grant’s voice is husky as he leans in, one hand on his own crotch, one grabbing at Joey’s. This is, at least, something Joey is used to. He hisses at the friction, his own hand snaking down Grant’s pants. Grant grins at him as fingers work Joey to fullness, one hand shoving down his pants to get a better angle. “Now you can fuck him properly.” His hands move from Joey to the boy, spreading his cheeks, showing a pried open hole.

It takes a few tries for Joey to properly push himself in but once he does he finds himself hissing with the pleasure of it. Muscles flutter around his intrusion, rubbing at his dick, tight and hot. It’s even better than the boy’s cunt. If Joey had his hands free he would sign a word like fuck, but all he can do is gasp in choked tones.

Grant’s dick is standing at attention, too, bumping Joey’s thigh as he tries to get in next to him. “Move over,” he mutters, a hand tugging at the boy’s scarred thigh to get at his cunt. Joey’s come leaks out of the folds of it. Grant sticks fingers in to roughly scoop it out before lining himself up. Joey scoots over so he can sink in properly, even if neither of them can get to the hilt.

“Look at you, spreading your legs so nicely.” Slade’s murmuring causes Joey to look up from his own dick and the boy’s bloody back. Slade’s talking to the boy as if he’s a pet, a hand pulling his hair back. “I bet you just love being filled up, don’t you?”

It’s almost, almost tender. Joey feels a spike of strange jealousy. His father doesn’t talk to his sons like that often.

The only answer is a mumbled groan as the boy arches his blood-drenched back to press back against Joey and Grant. Grant’s hands dig into his back, blood smearing them, pulling him tighter around Joey.

Slade’s hand goes to his crotch. Seconds later, his cock hangs free. Joey’s seen his dad’s dick before, but it always strikes him as too big to truly fit anywhere. Especially when it’s swollen and hard, bumping against the face of the boy beneath them.

“Now open your mouth so I can fuck your throat.” Seconds later the boy jerks back onto Joey’s cock, drool dribbling to the floor. Grant’s hips snap in response, pulling him closer, gasping in Joey’s ear. Joey has to push him further away to properly move inside the boy’s ass. Even when he’s only halfway in, it squeeze him tight, warm and inviting.

The debauched sound of Slade fucking the boy’s mouth onto his cock fills the room, Grant’s groans mixing in it, Joey just trying to keep his mind inside his body as he presses in and out. It’s dizzying, but exhilarating, the three of them sheathed in the boy on the floor, using his body. He doesn’t make a sound, choked on Slade, not even at Grant’s rough thrusts and the tentative snap of Joey’s hips. His thighs shiver as he holds himself up, blood still dripping to the floor.

“C’mon, Jo,” Grant rasps. “Isn’t it fun?” He slams into the boy, spreading his cunt wide, rocking him onto Slade’s cock. Slade’s too focused on himself to pay attention, a hand fisted into the boy’s hair as he yanks him back and forth on his cock. Joey moans soundlessly as he moves in and out again. It takes some effort with how tight the passage is but in the end it’s worth it. Before he knows it, Joey is jerking forward - pushing Grant aside to come a second time. He feels it bloom around his cock, warm.

“Can’t last long, can you?” Grant teases. This time Joey has the presence of mind to take a bloody hand and flip him off. Grant sticks his tongue out as he elbows Joey aside to get a better angle into the boy’s cunt. Joey can see his own come dribbling out of the boy’s puckered hole. Grant smears it in annoyance as he starts up a cruel pace. It’s not enough for him, though.

Grant slaps the boy’s thigh, leaving a red print. “Try harder!” His voice is choked, and Joey knows that he’s close too, digging nails into the boy’s hips and fucking him as hard as he can. It’s not as hard as Slade, though. Joey can see how the boy’s head is jerked back with every movement of Slade’s, how he’s rocked between Grant and his father. The blood on his back glints in the light.

“Go on, slut. Show him how tight you are.” Slade pushes the boy’s body back, onto Grant. “Or I’ll let him carve you up a second time.”

Grant is groaning seconds later, pressing himself as far as he can go into the slick folds. His eyes are half-lidded, mouth hanging open, in an expression that Joey knows well. Grant’s cock pulls out of the boy a few seconds later, come leaking onto the floor as the boy collapses with nobody holding onto his hips. The only reason he’s still up is Slade has a grip on his hair, snapping his hips methodically.

Slade’s teeth gleam as he smiles in the light, staring at Joey and Grant. His thrusts stop, and slow, and then the boy is panting with only his hands holding him up. Saliva and come drips down his chin, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. Slade’s cock brushes his forehead before he looks up and licks it clean without being prompted.

“Put your dick away,” Joey tells Grant. Grant stuffs it back in his boxers, fumbling with the zipper on his jeans, mumbling something obscene. Slade finishes with the boy, pushing him to the side. The boy tumbles against the side of the basement, curling in on himself to let Slade step over him. As he does, he leans over, grabbing at the boy’s collar.

“Get over there and apologize.” The boy’s thrown into a pile of bones in front of Grant and Joey, shivering as he looks up at him. The pale face is smeared with come, tracked with tears from choking. The eyes make Joey shudder.

“I - I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes flicking anywhere except their faces.

“Tell them you’re a little whore who forgot his place.”

The face turns down, pale arms wrapping around the rest of the body, holding tight. Stringy hair hangs down around his head. “I - I’m a … whore. I - forgot my place.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Slade turns to Grant and Joey. “Now you two are going back upstairs, and you’re not going to be coming down here again. Understood?”

Grant just stares. Joey nods.

“Unless you want to start taking his place, that is. Understood?”

Grant nods, too. Joey pulls on his arm, pulling him past Slade. He lets go only to ask, Are you coming?

Slade shakes his head. “No.” He smiles. “He always was hard to teach.”

Joey doesn’t look back. He doesn’t want to see that horror on the boy’s face - but he can hear it in his voice, pale and broken.

“Master - master, please - I said I was sorry, it hurts, please don’t - ”

The basement door slams.

All that’s left is Grant and Joey, standing in the kitchen. Slowly, Joey watches Grant draw the key from his pocket. It’s placed on the counter with a soft click. Joey and Grant stare at each other, and Joey suddenly feels very, very small.

[1000roughdrafts]

Family Secrets : Chapter Six

Family Dont End With Blood, or Does it?

A/N: reposting cause the other one got deleted somehow :(

Summary: Lured to a house and trapped with a woman calling herself Allanah, you cry out to Dean for help, not realizing that he could hear you let alone goes on a hunt to find you. Meanwhile, Allanah forces you to watch some very painful memories.

Warnings: SPN style violence, mentions of character death from show, angst

W/C: 3.6k

Previous Chapter

"Stop calling me that! I am not your family!" 

"Oh, sweetheart," Allanah focuses her empty eyes onto yours. "I'm all you have. You haven't any family left, they're all dead." 

When you weaken your gaze, Allanah smiles, "mercilessly, I must add. Do you remember when you found out about Rufus' death? And how painstakingly brutal it was for you to hear of Bobby's?" She pauses to look at your shaking hands, "oh, and you have to remember when Jolie died, and the part you had in it?"

 With a wave of her hand, Allanah sends you back in time. Standing in the petrifying cold, you see a past version of yourself and Jolie in the near distance. You want to warn them, but when you open your mouth nothing comes out. In an attempt to run towards them, you send your torso towards the ground. You wiggle your legs in an effort to walk forward and realize you’re stuck, as if you’re cemented into the ground.

"Jolie, this is big," you hear from your past self, as tears slip down her cheek. "There are too many of them. We have to go back, to get other hunters. We need help!"

"Are you crazy?" Jolie steps closer to the past you. "They've killed too many of us. I have to do this," she looks to the ground, then at the door of the warehouse. "For my son," she says looking back up at Past you. "They could move at any moment, which means that we may never find them again. This is our only chance!" 

Past you grab's Jolie by the shoulders, "you don't get it, do you? Do you want to be another hunter killed by them? Because that's what is going to happen if we go in there without backup." 

Jolie's voice softens, a tear falls from her eyes, "as long as I take some down with me, I don't care." 

"Listen to yourself! Please! I'm begging you. We will find another way!" 

She shakes her head, "this is the only way." The metallic clink sound feels like a jab to your heart as Jolie rips out her machete and runs for the door. 

Your soul merges with your past self, trapping you in a body you hardly even recognize anymore and forces you to watch from the eyes of your former self. Replaying as a third dimensional memory rather than a moment, the body runs after Jolie just in time to see her in the tight grasp of a vampire. 

"Oh, look here. She brought desert," he snickers. 

"Let her go," you shout. 

"Or what?" he laughs, tightening the grip around Jolie's neck. 

"Just go, before it's too late for you," Jolie whimpers. The vampire lowers his head to her neck, sinking his teeth into her throat. Jolie's scream echos inside of the warehouse as her blood trickles down her body. 

You try to run towards her, but trip, falling to the ground and  screaming instead. When you look up, you're completely void of emotion and stand slowly.

“Come on, darling. I don't bite," he laughs. The group of girls behind him giggle as he takes steps towards you. "Two hunters delivered straight to our door, girls. Can you believe it?" He turns his shoulder slightly the face them, then back at you, "this has got to be the most exciting day in quite a while."

"Enjoy it, cause it's your last," you frown, falling numb from the anger as it heats your entire body.

The warehouse shakes with the laughter of the nest. "Seriously? Did you learn nothing from your friend here?"

"I don't care if I live or die anymore. I'd say that makes anyone pretty damn dangerous." Glaring in his direction, you stop fighting the anger and let it take complete control of the body. It beams out of you in a light. You feel a new sense of confidence.

Marching straight for him, you’re immune to his attempts to keep you away and wrap your hand around his neck in a tight grip.

His eyes widen as his hands fly up onto your wrist, while the others swarm to his side. With a wave of your hand, they’re blasted to the ground, dead.

"Okay, look, I'm sorry. I can't bring back your friend, but I-" he peeks at the bodies. "Oh God, I - I can do anything you want," his glossy eyes look back at yours.

"Afraid it's a little late for that." You begin squeezing his neck, softly yet fiercely, building up more strength. The more you think of Jolie, the angrier you become, thus the tighter your grip gets. With an inhuman strength, that grip becomes deadly, ripping his head from his body in a bloody explosion.

It takes you only a moment to realize the mess you’d just caused, but when you do you look down at the blood covering you and around at the nest you’d taken out single handed.

You catch your breath and run back to Jolie, falling to your knees beside her. “I’m so sorry, Jo,” you wail, dropping your head onto her bloody chest.

Against his better judgment, Dean let's Sam drive in an effort to catch some much needed rest. He'd only been out for no longer than an hour before your voice becomes too loud to push away.

Dean... I can't.. "God, Blue. I hear you!"

Sam flinches at the sudden outburst and shifts slightly in his seat, "the bar owner called, he was pretty shaken up. He said Tim came in, was acting different... 'evil'. He said he swore that, for a second, Tim's eyes went black."

"Sounds like we've got a demon on our hands," Dean rubs his eyes.

Sam nods, "and I talked to Garth, he looked into her phone records and guess who was the last to hear from her?"

"Demon boy." Sam nods again. "Is that where we're heading now?" Dean yawns.

Sam clears his throat, inspecting Dean from the corner of his eye, "yep. Uh, it should be coming up." He pulls the car behind a fence, turning the headlights off before rolling to a full stop. "But if you're not feeling up to this-"

"I'm fine," Dean pushes himself out of the seat and to the trunk.

"Seriously, Dean," Sam follows closely behind. "You're sweating. You haven't slept, or - or eaten in two days, and you - your eyes are freakin' red, dude. If it were me you'd have me handcuffed me to the steering wheel by now."

"Good thing I'm the one with the handcuffs then, huh?" Dean smirks, stuffing weapons, salt and holy water into the bag.

Sam shakes his head with a quiet scoff, looking around the neighborhood before taking a step closer to Dean, "I'm serious."

"So am I, Sam." He drops the bag and turns to face him, "I know you're only doing this 'cause you care or whatever, but the only way you're keeping me from gutting that son of a bitch is if you kill me," he yells, pointing behind him at the house. Taking a deep breath, "look man, I can't explain it. This isn't just hearing her thoughts, or-" he pauses, looking at the trees behind his brother.

"Or what?" After a length of silence, he shifts in front of Dean and repeats himself, "or what, Dean?"

Focusing back on Sam, he sighs and lowers his voice into a harsh whisper, "I know everything about her.” The muscled in his face tighten, “everything she knows about herself, anyway. She’s been through just as much as we have, I’d not more and I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna do something about it. Pain or not.”

Dean throws the bag onto his back and walks towards the house. Crouching on their way in, they spit Tim on the couch. Sam wraps an arm around his neck, the inside of his elbow just below his chin with the other hand holding a knife to his jaw. Coming from the shadows and pointing a gun, Dean grumbles, "get up."

As you come out of your past self, you feel your soul rip out of the body. You watch the image of your old self leaning on Jolie's chest getting smaller and smaller until it disappears completely and you are knelt on the floor by Allanah's feet, still crying.

She leans down to your level. "Please, I cant do this anymore," you can barely make out the words through your tears."

"That's when you realized you were more powerful than you thought, remember?" Allanah grips your arm and yanks you to your feet, "isn't that the real reason you gave up hunting? The guilt got to you, didn't it? If only you'd have known you could do that before she-"

"I could have saved her!" Your voice cracks as you yell.

"Oh, honey. You couldn't. The power only manifested in that way because of what happened," she laughs. "Now, you want to know about your parents? Your real parents or whatever." She twists her arms into her hip, "your father died practically the same way as 'papa' - on a hunt." She withholds any and all sympathy, practically singing now, "and oh, wouldn't you know. He was accompanied by Daddy Winchester himself."

Your eyes, full of wrath, dart up at Allanah, and begin to tighten with your fists. "That's right. Azazeal may have started it," Allanah holds her hand to her mouth, snickering. "But John certainly finished it." She belts out a cackle and places her finger to her temple, her thumb facing the ceiling for form a hand gun, mimicking a shot. "Boom!"

—

Dean finishes a devils trap around the chair they've strapped Tim to and throws the can of spray paint into the kitchen. He ambled to the front of the chair, crossing his arms, "where is she?"

"Who?" Tim wiggles around in the rope.

Dean leans in, "you know damn well who I'm talking about."

"You’re so cute when you’re angry,” Tim laughs.

He winds back his arm and slams his fist against Tim's cheek, forcing his head in the opposite direction. "Tell me where she is. Now!"

Tim keeps his head to the side, but slowly turns his black eyes to glare at Dean. He brings his head back around, pointing his hand back around, pointing his nose in the air. "And why would I do that?"

"Might make this a lot less painful for you." Dean feels the enmity consuming him, yours and his, but rather than pushing it away like he normally does, he accepts it. The echo of Tim's laughter infuriates him further, he winds his arm back to punch him again.

Dean? Can you hear me? Please, I can't...

Dean fumbles back, grabbing his head with both hands.

"Ol' boys not feeling so hot, huh?" Tim snickers, "that's too bad."

"Shut up," Sam cuts in, putting his hands on Dean's back to guide him to a chair. "Now, I was thinking to myself; why would a demon choose to stay topside?" He paced around the chair, "what would a demon even need with a house?"

"I like my own space," Tim licks his lips, squirming in the chair.

"I would believe that," Sam walks to the front of Tim. "I'd if weren't for a friend of ours that did some research." He pulls out his phone to reveal a picture of the demon sharing a kiss with Mrs. Mill, "what would Crowley have to say about this? You being intimate with a former captive?"

"Oh, he knows. Who do you think got me this place?" He laughs.

Sam shrugs casually, flipping through the photos to show me of Mrs. Mill tied to a chair, duck tape over her mouth.

"What have you done to her? Where is she?" He rattles the chair, "let me go!"

Sam leans down to firmly set his hands on the arm rests, "you first."

Tim groans, "I was paid off by Crowley to lure you three to town, get you together."

Dean clumps over, holding a hand to his head. "Why?"

"I don't know." Tim tilts his head, "I'm just a grunt, I do what I'm told."

~

"You had a sister too, you know," Allanah turns her back to you and tilts her head to the side. "But, well, when the Winchester's did what they do best, they used her as a getaway."

Allanah giggles just slightly, rotated around and adds, "her and your mother, actually. Your poor sister was bleeding from her center, trying to hold her spilling guts in one hand," Allanah mocks the action with a fake pout, "and a rigged in the other. Your mother, oh Ellen, she just couldn't bare to leave Jo's side as I hear it, bless her heart." She places her palms to her cheeks and purses her lips before beginning to leisurely pace, "and they both died in that explosion."

Tears almost too hot to touch stroll down your cheeks. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course I know what I'm talking about," she scoffs, reaching up to grab your cheeks and impartially wipe away the tears. "I created you, after all. I know everything there is to know about you and everyone around you."

She stands herself up straight and continues on with a softer tone, "now, when you add all of this tragedy together, what's your common denominator?" She pauses, "that's right. The Winchester's. Their selfishness has caused the death of everyone who's ever loved you and some you never got the chance to love in return. And I don't know about you, but that sounds pretty personal to me."

Allanah leans slightly on brush the sweat soaked strand of hair from your face. "Let us destroy them forever they-" Allanah mumbles the ending of her sentence as the sound of an engine rumbles outside, "ah, just in time." She leans into you, her breath heating your cheek. "Remember what they've done to you, to your family, Y/N. Do you really want to be another victim to their charades? Do you want to die at the hands of the Winchester's vain attempts to 'save the world'?"

Dean gasps as the two slam their way through the door, catching themselves with a few steps.

"The decision is yours, baby," she smiles wryly, pointing a finger to herself, "do you want to be powerful? Have it all?" She shoves a finger in their direction without breaking eye contact from you, "or be a pawn in their game, only to end up dead at the hands of whatever plot they scheme up?" Smirking, she snaps her fingers and disappears from the room.

You narrow your eyes at Dean, advancing towards him with your dagger in hand. "Whatever she's said to you, don't listen to it," he persuaded with his palms facing you.

"I called out for you!" you scream, keeping a fist around the dagger but bringing it to your side.

"Why do you think I'm here, Blue? I heard you."

You laugh to yourself. The silver lining of these events is a rebirth. "My name is Y/N."

Dean keeps his hands in the air and takes a few steps closer, "Y/N, okay, great. Let's go."

"Is it true?" you cry out.

Dean cramps his face, "is what true?"

"My family. Every single one of them, down to my birth parents... dead, because of you or your jerk of a father. The Winchester name is a curse that I refuse to be associated with."

"Sam, what is she talking about?"

"You're the one that can read her mind, you tell me."

You draw the knife up to your palm, tapping it lightly against your fingers as you count, "I'm talking about Bobby and Rufus. My mother, Ellen and the sister I never got to meet."

"Hold on. Jo is your sister?" Dean frowns as his hands and eyes drop to face the floor.

"Was my sister. Before you used her as bait for your own sick agendas!"

"No, no, Bl- Y/N, it - it wasn't like that," Sam stutters, taking a single step towards you. "She - she sacrificed herself."

"Sacrificed? Do you hear yourself?" you scoff and bounce your head against the back of your neck, looking at the ceiling while your arms fall limp at your sides.

"I know how it sounds, believe me, but it's true," he adds with a near brutal tone. "We were up against the devil himself. A lot was at stake."

"So you mean to tell me that he's gone, then right? The devil?"

"Yes," Sam smiles. "We got him. As far as we know, he's in the cage - in hell."

"You for a lot of nerve coming at us like we didn't lose people important to us, too," Dean shouts waving his knife at you.

"People that you got to spend your life around! People that knew you for who you were and loved you for who you were. I will always be a monster because of where I came from, that won't change and you said it yourself."

"Y/N, we never knew our mother either."

"Sam," Dean interjects, void of any hope. "Don't start. She doesn't care."

"You're right. I don't. The way I see it you guys have it and had it. So you didn't know your mother, but you have each other. I could have grown up hunting with a sister," you take into account what your purpose is now, and readjust yourself. "Still, it doesn't change a thing. Dean, you hated me from the start. You hardly gave me a chance to speak, at least not without severe judgment." You take a step forward, "your problem was decided guilty until proven innocent when I was innocent to begin with. And you, Sam, I'm just disposable to you. Someone you can play nice to and pretend you care about me only to be used as bait in your next big trial. I'm not falling for that.

"No, that's-"

"Don't bring him into this," Dean flicks his blade at you with a shift in his eyebrows. "He's the one they wanted to help you in the first place. If it weren't for Sam, you'd be dead already. So you want a fight? Well, bring it on, bitch," he says, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his neck.

"Oh, Dean. You don't kiss your mom with that mouth do you?" You smile and lunge are him with your blade. He barely makes it out of the way while going after you with his own and an extended arm that you effortless grab onto and use to slam into a wall, knocking all of it's oddities on top of him.

He jerks back action with a thrust of the knife while Sam attempts to leap in to help. With only a palm facing him, and your eyes still on Dean, you exert all of your anger into a small ball of light and directing it at Sam, halting him to a stop. Unable to intervene, he grunts and tries to call out for Dean, who is now the subject of your suspension. You turn your head and look at Sam through peripheral.

"Grumpy's right, Sammy. This isn't about you. Not entirely," you focus back on Dean, releasing your mental grip on him. "You wanted a monster and now you've got one. One they you have no business messing with and I swear it on your grave I'll make you eat those words."

"I'd rather have some pie, but thanks for the offer." He drops his shoulder and shakes out the tension in his arm before trying to attack you with his blade again. As he gets closer he can hear you chanting something too choppy to make out any words.

Sam is the first to fall, and Dean, still battling the sudden onset of exhaustion, drops slowly to his knees. You gracefully drop to your own right in front of him to caress his face with your palm, "good night sugar. See you never," you sing before drawing back your hand to gently push him to the floor. Stepping over Sam, you hum a long forgotten tune as you make your way through the door and off the property entirely.

"I see you've chosen wisely," Allanah says with a smile wide enough to show her perfectly straight teeth as you stroll to her side. The two of you stand in front of a double wide copper door. "They're not to bother us again, and I assure that if they do-"

"I took care of it," you say with vengeance in your eyes and a light curl of the corner of your mouth.

"Wonderful!" Allanah gleams, guiding you through a ballroom where the family has been paired off into twos across the marble flooring. Over in the corner and dancing your way is a tall woman with dark brown hair that curls just below the stone necklace wrapped around her neck. She approaches you with an extended palm and a beaming smile.

"This is Edra," Allanah states with a hand resting on Edras nos crossed arms. "She still be mentoring you for the next few weeks."

She doesn't take her eyes off of you ask she speaks, and maintaining a warm smile says, "as my right hand she is among the most powerful and will be treated as such or you will regret it, understand?"

You take in a long, silent breath through your nose and only give a single nod.

"Good! I'll leave you to it then," she says with a forced smile and carefree shrug before skipping over to another pair of witches.

What have I gotten myself into?

Next Chapter

[littleteatimestories]

John Wick x Reader: Start of Something New (4)

A/N: Thanks for the continuous support, guyths! 😍 This is really making me happy, like super happy! 😆 I know the story was a little angst-y in a way, but I also try my best that the reader becomes patient and understanding.

Enjoy this one! What do you think will happen next? 😊

(FYI: I still don’t own the GIF. My internet connection is so slow that I can’t access the GIFs section of Tumblr so I go to Google instead.)

⇇ CHAPTER 1

⟸ CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

One week... That’s how long John had been going out of the hotel and coming back either bruised or with broken body parts. He still hasn’t told you the reasons behind his ‘personal’ business. Whenever he gets serious injuries, a doctor would come in the room and patch him up. You knew basic bandaging and first aid, but stitching a wound was not in your skill set. Afterwards, you would notice that John would hand something to the doctor and the latter would gently pat John’s uninjured shoulder and leave. You didn’t attempt to infer him of any of his business. You would just recheck his condition to which he was really grateful for and just offer him anything that he would request (which he never did).

Two days later, he informed you that he would be going out... again. You couldn’t take it anymore. You mustered the confidence to ask his whereabouts.

“Where are you going this time?”

He didn’t answer as he put his coat suit on. You demanded further, “You promised that you’ll tell me everything. But almost a week has passed and all I got are your job and my safety. What are you exactly doing, John? What are you planning? You just leave me here all alone and then when you come back here, you look like crap. I just...” You exhaled tiredly. “I just want to know what you’re up to. What if I get news that you’re already dead? I’m just worried.”

He affixed his coat as he peered at you. He opened his mouth and finally imparted, “Those men who intruded the house and killed Daisy? One of them is the son of the Russian mob leader whom I helped before I met Helen. He was the one who initiated stealing the car and killing Daisy.”

Your eyes widened, knowing immediately what he was preparing on doing. “You’re going to take his life...”

He didn’t take his eyes away from you as if he was searching something in you. His expression was stoic, but you can decipher his thoughts. Only one thing came to mind: revenge.

He was doing this out of retribution because he felt like everything and everyone he loved was being taken away from him. Well, he probably still has you, yet Helen will always be his first.

For your own morality, you acknowledged (and everyone does, too) that terminating one’s life is completely wrong. If you’re religious, that’s a major sin and you’ll go to Hell for it. In the eyes of the law, that’s equivalent to years of imprisonment.

Still, you can’t help having thoughts that the murderer of your dog deserves an actual retribution coming to him. He shouldn’t have killed Daisy. He shouldn’t have messed with John Wick AT ALL.

‘Yes, he deserves what’s coming to him. Putting Daisy to death was like losing Helen all over again,’ you thought. It was bad to think this way, but you have the right to have your peace of mind. Letting the dog killer roam free was unacceptable.

You nasally breathed in and out of air with closed eyes then opened them. “Just come back here with no injuries this time. I hate seeing so much blood on your clothes,” you sounded sarcastic and serious at the same time.

John ghosted a smirk, which you missed. “I’ll try to be careful.”

With that, he moved to the closet and took at least two guns and some ammos. He hid them well in his suit and belt.

He took a glimpse at you again and just inclined his head down then up as a form of saying that he was to leave and be back after he conducted his business. As he opened the door, you spoke,

“John, wait!” You jogged closer to him and gave him a long peck on his cheek. “Be careful, I mean it.”

He caressed yours. “I won’t take long.”

He finally left... again.

***

You were folding your clothes as well as John’s. You checked the old-fashioned clock on the wall and it was already time for dinner. You went to the telephone just between your beds and called the reception. You lifted the phone to your ear and there was no long sound to be heard from it. You tried to dial the numbers and it was still quiet. You attempted to fix the line, but when you put it on your ear again, there was still nothing.

You heavily sighed. You have no choice. You’ll have to get out of the room and go to the reception yourself. You grabbed your purse (just in case since everything you need were in it) and exited the room.

You reached the reception desk and the same bald and dark-skinned man was there. You smiled at him and he gave a small one to you.

“Miss, with all due respect, Mr Wick informed me that you shouldn’t leave your room,” he pointed out straightforwardly and nonchalantly.

You blinked your eyes. “Did he?”

“Please go back to your room,” he instructed you with regard.

You suppressed the urge to make a face so you just puckered your lips in disappointment. “Fine. Either way, I didn’t come here to really get out of the room. I just want to tell you that our telephone isn’t working and to order food.”

The concierge tilted his head down. “I’ll let someone fix your room telephone right now.” He tapped onto something then looked at you again. “You may go back to your room and make your order from there.”

You squinted. “Can’t I just order here first then go back to the room?”

“I am asked not to let you out of the room. I am only doing a favor.”

You raised your hands in defense. “Alright, alright. I understand.”

When you turned to leave, your feet didn’t move upon seeing another familiar figure. A dark browned slicked hair and emerald-colored eyes that previously winked at you was focused on you, but never intimidating; more of an intrigued look. Your memory of his smirk was still intact in your brain. He was that same man whom you offered your beam simply because you were anxious and kind-hearted.

He approached you with his hands in the pockets of his dark blue tight-styled slack pants. “John Wick’s assistant,” he addressed you in that manner since he actually didn’t know your name. His voice was deep and silvery. He had a British accent in him.

“Um, h-hi,” you stuttered.

He laughed quietly and amusingly. “Funny, I’ve been here for almost a week and I’ve only seen you for the second time.”

“Second time?” you prompted, acting a little stupid. Of course you knew what he was referring to.

He chuckled again. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you smiling at me when you first checked in here was not our first time meeting. Though, it was true that we didn’t talked at that time. But again, gazing at each other was like the first time.”

You feigned a grin. “Oh, that! My memory of small details can be quite bad.”

He raised a brow mirthfully. “I didn’t think that was a small detail for you. Well, I guess I can understand since you’re a cleaner. And John Wick’s personal one at that.”

“Right...” you drawled. You didn’t even comprehend what he meant by that.

“You know,” he pressed on. It appeared like he wasn’t just going to let you go anytime soon. “We should grab a drink at the bar and, you know, try to get to know one another.”

You tried to find an excuse. “Maybe... another time. Jo- Mr Wick wants me to do some things for him.”

He was insistent. “Come now, you have to lighten up a little. I’m pretty sure you can get tired of him.”

Truth to be told, you were getting tired of him; tired of being left alone all the time. Of course, you wouldn’t tell this guy about that.

You were about to hurl back at his invitation when he spoke first. “I actually find it peculiar that he’s even back. Last I heard, he retired.”

You gulped unnoticed. You knew about that part, too.

“In any case, so? Would you like a drink? It’s going to be on me.”

You wanted an out of this situation. You felt like no matter how many rejections you give he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“I-I-“

“Mr Fortuna.”

Both of you diverted your attentions to the concierge who was now standing regally a few inches away from you. He continued, “There are some matters that need to be discussed privately with you.”

The other man groaned. “Can that wait?”

“No, sir, it cannot. Can you please follow me?”

Mr Fortuna sighed quite irately. He then eyed you sadly. “Sorry, love, but business calls, as much as I hate this.”

You mentally puffed out a relief and feigned disappointment. “No, no, it’s fine. We’re all busy.”

“Jacob Fortuna,” he finally introduced himself and offered his hand for a shake.

“(Y/n).” You clasped your petite one in his. You kept your last name a secret for now.

“Lovely name.” He gave a chaste kiss at the back of your hand and strode to the concierge.

When you locked eyes on the concierge, he just inclined his head down. You were aware of the meaning and stared at him briefly before going back to your room.

***

Shoot. Shoot here, shoot there, shoot left then right and vice versa.

Crack and crash.

He finally located Iosef Tarasov. That bastard had been a stroke of bad luck to him. He shouldn’t even have touched the car especially the dog.

That spoiled Tarasov brat shouldn’t even have messed with John Wick. Helen was the love of his life who died of cancer and that puppy (and even the car) was the only memory he had of her. It was a fortunate thing that you were kept safe. He had to do everything in his power to keep you out of harm’s way as you were the only one left to keep his sanity. He’ll even go through lengths of killing if your security would be threatened. And as long as that Iosef lives, you will never find peace and there will be no justice for Daisy’s death.

More shooting. And now, splintering bones happened. Iosef was still running for his life, obviously terrified to face the most professional assassin. Too many bodyguards coming right at said assassin, but not one bit that he faltered except when he got shot twice, one in his right shoulder and the other in his left abdomen. Yet again, his adrenaline of wanting to reach Iosef and permanently finish him off was high enough that he didn’t even feel the pain coursing through him.

The chase was cut, though, as Tarasov’s head of security showed up and was a tough cookie to handle. He finally felt the pain in his shoulder and abdomen injuries, blood already staining his dress shirt.

It didn’t matter, anyway, as he warned Iosef upon calling Victor’s, who was already dead, phone to which he grabbed,

“Everything has a price.”

---

CHAPTER 5 ⟹

[the--blackdahlia]

Armageddon Chapter 16 (Dean x Reader)

Title: Armageddon Chapter 16

Summary:  Space. The Final Frontier. But for Dean Winchester, space was the last place he thought he would ever go. His family life isn’t perfect, his job isn’t ideal, but he has (Y/n), the woman he loves. Sam Winchester never thought his life would turn out the way it did. He is divorced, alone, and his brother most likely hates him. Working for NASA was not going to be easy. But, when a threat to the earth has him calling on his family for help, what can he do? can Sam and Dean push past his family issues to keep the Earth spinning another day? Based on the movie of the same name.

Pairings: Dean x Reader; Sam x Jessica

Warnings For this Chapter: Angst, lots of tears, major character death.

Song for this chapter: I Don't Want to Miss a Thing (Rock Mix) by Aerosmith

Check out more on my Patreon!

Mission Control

Bobby ran his hand across his face. Sam’s voice coming over the small communication radio sent an eerie shiver down his spine. He looked over at the Winchesters, his heart breaking. (Y/n) had been moved to a chair where she played with her engagement ring tears streaming down her face. Jessica held Ashton close as he played with his toy car. And John,  was pacing back and forth, his face stone. Bobby could only imagine what was running through his mind with two sons up on this mission. One son injured and slated to stay behind, and the other son, now asking to speak to him. Bobby pulled the head set off and sighed. His footsteps felt heavy as he walked towards the family.

Bobby placed a gentle hand on John, “Sam’s asking to talk to you.”

At the mention of Sam’s name, Jessica’s head shot up. She looked at John hoping that after his conversation she could speak to Sam. Her heart hoping they could fix their relationship. John looked to Jessica and gave her a small smile before following bobby and sitting down before the console.

“Sam? It’s dad, I’m here son,” John’s voice broke a little.  

“Hey dad.” Sam’s voice sounded so small. “I, uh, I made an executive decision. Dean’s coming home.” (Y/n) looked up, happiness filling her heart, but it was quickly replaced with a different kind of dread.

“Sam, you need to come home son, you can’t… Dean is not going to handle this well… you know that,” John took in a shaky breath. He looked over to Jessica who held a sleeping Ashton. “Sam… there is someone here who wants to talk to you…”

“Who?” Sam asked. John nodded at Jessica, letting her walk up. He took Ashton to let him keep sleeping.

“Sam,” her voice broke.

“J-Jessica?” Sam asked. “What are you doing there?”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you… please don’t do this, come home… I can’t lose you… not like this, please… anything but this,” Jessica pleaded.

“Jess…” Sam gave off a broken sob. “It’s too late. There’s no one else. And I can’t let Dean do this. He’s done so much for me. He deserves to be happy. I-I lost that right to be happy.” He sniffled. “You and Ashton will be taken care of.”

“I AM YOUR WIFE SAM! You deserve to be happy too… I know what happened between us was bad, but you need to come back. We can fix us… get someone else please… what do I tell our son?” Jessica’s voice cracked. She knew they weren’t married officially. But one of the reasons she had broken up with her boyfriend was because she never really got over Sam. She missed him and when he showed up at her house, she just wanted to be with him again.  

“They...they’ve already taken off.” Sam whispered. “They’re heading back now. I-I’m all alone up here. I never stopped loving you Jess. I never gave up your spot in my heart.”

“I love you too… I don’t think I ever stopped… I am so sorry I hurt you Sam. It’s all my fault… I’m sorry… I don’t deserve your love Sam… I’m… I’m going to put your dad back on…” Jessica sobbed as she moved out of the way to take Ashton, allowing John back on the com. She held her son tight as she cried. (Y/n) led her to the seat next to hers as they held each other.

“Dad?” Sam asked softly. “Please don’t think Dean asked me to do this. Please don’t hate him.”

“No son… no, I know he wouldn’t do this... He loves you too much.” John was sure Dean was kicking and screaming to try and get back to Sam. “I’m going to fix things with your brother Sam… don’t worry… I promise,” John sniffed as he placed his head in his hands.  

“My will, the deed to the house, the title to my car, all of it, there’s a fireproof box under my bed.” Sam told John. “Everyone will be taken care of from this. E-everyone will be happy.” Sam was starting to break in and out. “I guess it’s time. I love you dad.”

“I wish I did better Sam… I failed you. I failed Dean… I love you son… I’m sorry,” John began to sob.  

“You did the best you could.” Sam cried. “Dad, I…”

The audio connection cut out then, leaving them in silence. Jessica sobbed loudly, holding on to Ashton. John fell to the floor pounding it with his fists. (Y/n) held on to both Jess and Ashton it would take a day and a half before the small shuttle would reach the earth. All they had to do now was wait for the remaining team members to return.

****

“Dean, if you don’t calm down, we have to sedate you!” Cas told him as Jo started up the shuttle to get them away from the asteroid.

“DAMN IT!  HE’S BY BROTHER… MY BABY BROTHER! I’M THE ONE WHO NEEDS TO STAY BEHIND NOT HIM! NOT LIKE THIS!” Dean thrashed in his seat. “Benny get me out of here please, I can’t let my nephew grow up without his dad, please.” Dean begged.

“AND I’M NOT GOING TO LET (Y/N) BECOME A WIDOW BEFORE YOU’RE EVEN MARRIED AND A SINGLE MOTHER!” Benny bellowed.”I am not going to do that to her. Now Sam’s made up his mind. You can sit there and accept it… or you let it eat you alive and you lose your wife and your unborn kid… choose!”  

“Wait...unborn...she’s...I’m a dad?” Dean asked, his voice shaking.

“She didn’t want to tell you until after you came back safe,” Benny sighed. “Hell she doesn’t know I know… but I’m not and idiot, I have sisters and nieces and nephews.”

“Oh boy… (Y/n) is going to be pissed at you when we land,” Ash breathed as he closed his eyes. “Hey Ketch?”

“Yeah mate?” Ketch breathed.

“I owe a bookie 100 thousand dollars… can I hide out at your place for a few days?” Ash gave a nervous chuckle.

“YOU TWAT!” Ketch grumbled. “If that bookie comes after me, I am serving you to him on a silver platter, understood?”

“Guys,” Dean’s voice cut through them. “NOT NOW!” he growled. “NOT NOW. NOT THIS!”

“Dean,” Benny whispered. “Sam loves you… He wanted you and John to get along.” Benny looked over to Dean, whose face was stone.

Dean schoffed, “The old man is only going to blame me for this… Now I’ll really have to work for Crowley,” Dean grumbled.

“I don’t think John would think that brother,” Benny gave him a soft smile. “You know how he is, he’ll blame himself more than you.”

“Yeah I guess,” Dean muttered as he closed his eyes.

It wasn’t long before the shuttle had some turbulence from the shock wave that the explosion emitted. Jo, looked sadly to Cas and Gabriel as she piloted the shuttle back to earth.

***************

At the same time with Sam...

Sam kept talking even though he knew no one could hear him. His own voice was trying to calm him down, but he was starting to waver. He wanted to go home. He wanted to kiss Jess and hug Ashton. He wanted to be there for Dean’s wedding and the birth of his niece or nephew. But if he didn’t do this, Dean would’ve. Because no one else had the balls to volunteer.

Sam watched as the shuttle left him behind, heading back to Earth.

Closing his eyes, he pressed the button.

Forever Tags:  @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk

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Supernatural Tags:  @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23 @cloudyskylines @sams-serialkiller-fetish @theas-bedtime-stories @huntingfreewill @ocholove @princessofthefandomrealm @getbackhonkycatt @flamencodiva

Armageddon Tags: @thefaithfulwriter

[annoyedfanfiction]

Jim Kirk x reader (9)

The warm golden glow of the transporter beam shimmered back into life, and you materialised in Tixa’s stall again. “Hi, sorry about that,” you apologised, once again crouching below the tables as Tixa stared at you. “You said you’d heard from your daughter?”  “Yeah, we have comms,” Tixa answered, recovering quickly from your sudden appearance. “Perfect, here,” you shoved a small piece of paper with your comm details into her hand. “If anything goes wrong or you need to get in touch, use that. I need to go get my friends, but we’ll be back as soon as we can be, alright? We’ve got people at Maidara already, working on fixing the outbreak, but we need as much information as we can get. If you hear anything about the situation in Maidara, get in touch with your daughter. If she tells the men there that (Y/N) sent her, they’ll listen, ok?” Tixa nodded, and you scrambled to your feet, peering out of the stall. “Thanks for all your help!” You stepped out of the stall, blending quickly into the crowd of content Betazoids as they went about their business. 

Despite the maze that was the upper chambers, the basement holding cells were easy to navigate. Elaborate, brightly painted columns were replaced by simple, white columns and cold concrete-like floors. Small windows lit the path with striped sunlight, and you were thrown back to the iron bars and cold stone of ancient Earth dungeons. Footsteps echoed, but not as loudly as the loud yelling at the end of the corridor, Scotty’s distinct accent and colourful vocabulary echoing irately off the walls. “You’d think they’d have learned by now not to lock up the angry Scotsman if they valued their eardrums,” you mused, as you stepped up to the cell. “Lass!” Scotty exclaimed, ceasing his barrage. “How’d you manage to get away from them?” “Lots and lots of running,” you answered, pointing your phaser at the lock. “It wasn’t fun. I hate running. I’m more of a swimmer, myself.”  “Aye, well I’m no’ a huge fan of dungeons either,” he huffed back, rolling his eyes. “What is this, the 13th century?” “I would’ve put it closer the the 17th,” you grinned, wickedly, dodging a swat from the Scotsman. “You’re bleeding.” You handed each of them their phasers and comms back. “Moderate stun. We’re trying not to enlarge the issue, so shoot only if you have to. And quiet.” 

Tixa grabbed your arm the moment you stepped up to her stall, and the three men behind you drew their weapons. “Away,” you instructed, quickly. “Gentlemen, this is Tixa. She’s been helping me. Her daughter’s in Maidara.” “They’ve sent a battalion!” Tixa exclaimed, hurriedly. “Lixa said they’re just holding them off at the gate!” Your heart sank, thundering in the depths of your chest. “They’re all sick. What if they hurt them? My Lixa, she’s only eight! My little Lixa!” You lower the sobbing woman to the ground, gently, and crouched beside her.  “(Y/N), we’ve got some pretty angry looking royal guards coming this way,” Jameson warned, lowly.  “Listen, Tixa,” you soothed, letting her cling to you. “I need you to call your other daughter – Altrena, right? Now. We’ve got to get out of here, but I promise, if it’s the last thing I do I’ll get your Lixa out of there safely, alright?” She nodded, wiping her tears, calling Altrena’s name in a cracking voice. “(Y/N)!” Hendorff reiterated Jameson’s statement, loudly. “Quickly.” “(L/N) to Enterprise, prep for five to beam up,” you bit out, hurriedly. “Altrena!” You stood up, lifting Tixa to her feet. “Altrena!” “Momma! Momma!” the little girl raced over to you all, “You’ve found more StarFleets! Momma! Are you ok?” You snapped open your comm, as Tixa grabbed Altrena close to her. “Five to beam up, now!” The gold shimmer appeared around you all, and you stumbled off the transporter pad, phasers still pointing at an unseen enemy. “Sulu, you’ll need to put shields up,” you suggested, slamming the comm on the wall. You glanced back at Scotty’s bleeding head, and the two terrified Betazoids. “Medbay, prep for three. Surface injuries.” You turned back to your away team. “Jameson, take Scotty, Tixa and Altrena to the medbay, please?” Scotty opened his mouth, but shut it when Jameson took him firmly by the arm, and settled for glaring at you on his way out. “Hendorff, I need security to prep a team for beam down – a dozen, max. Don’t beam down until given a direct order. Ensign, beam me down to Maidara. Closest co-ordinates possible to away their last comm signal.” Hendorff exited the transporter room as you stepped back onto the pad, your phaser still in hand. 

You materialised in a small, well lit building, made of mismatched marble and some kind of dark stone. The paint was faded, and most of the statues chipped or eroded. “(Y/N)?” McCoy demanded, behind you, and you spun. “What the hell are you doing here?” “Bones!” you exclaimed, almost knocking him over as you flung your arms around him. “Is it always like this?” “You’ll get used to it, kid,” he shrugged back, echoing the wisdom he’d cited in your first meeting. “What’s going on?” “I’m a diplomat, this is a diplomatic crisis,” you answered, with an almost delirious grin. “Welcome to the Enterprise, we might be starting a war with one of the Federation’s allies over their treatment of an R fever outbreak.” McCoy scoffed, clapping you on the back, and turned to introduce you to Atraxa. “It’s a pleasure,” you smiled, shaking her hand warmly. “Thanks for working with our chaos.” She smiled, brightly, her dark eyes lightening. “Zitaxna is all order,” she answered, easily, “A little chaos might be exactly what we need at the moment. I’m sorry about all of this.” You waved her apology away, excusing yourself and rushing out to meet Spock and Jim, with McCoy yelling that the cure was ready to be administered after you. “Jim! Jim!” The gate thundered, just as you reached Jim and Spock, at the front of the crowd of sick Betazoids. “(Y/N)?” Jim echoed, as you popped up beside him. “What are you doing here?” “I’m a diplomat, this is a diplomatic crisis,” you replied, checking him over for injuries. “Also, we’ve got a distressed Betazoid mother aboard missing a daughter.” “I assume that’s where you got the dress, then.” His smile was warm, even as the gate began to splinter under another surge. “Any ideas?” “Bones said the treatment’s ready,” you explained, calmly. “I doubt the Betazoids actually want these people to die. I was hoping Atraxa and I could reason with them?” You could see the cogs whirring through his blue eyes, before he sighed. “Spock, you trade places with Atraxa, ask her to come out here,” he instructed, turning to his first mate. “(Y/N) and I will start getting the sick into lines.” Spock nodded, brusquely, and disappeared back through the crowd. “I’m coming with you,” Jim informed you, firmly. You smiled, and both of you began ushering the Betazoids into lines.

By the time Atraxa emerged, the Betazoids were organising themselves. A group of the strongest were ferrying the bedridden closer to the clinic, while any medics were helping administer the cure. Jim released the latch, and the gate swung open. “Stop!” Atraxa’s voice rang out, halting the guards in their tracks. “By the authority vested in me as queen, I order you to stand down!” “And why should we, Atraxa?” came another voice, and you recognised Queen Deanna stepping out from behind the guards. “This is treason, working with outside forces against the High Queen’s orders.” “These outside forces are saving our people, Deanna,” Atraxa snapped back, instantly. “Look, they’re manufacturing the cure twice as fast as we could have on our own, and distributing it. Surely our people’s lives are worth more than pride?” Deanna faltered, taking in the scene around her, and the guards did too, lowering their weapons.  “Ambassador,” she said, eventually, turning to you. “What does the Federation ask in return?” “As a member of the Federation, Betazed is entitled to our assistance, your majesty,” you answered, evenly. “Without exception, and without recompense.” “Don’t listen to her, Deanna.” Zitaxna disembarked a shining hovercar, her purple dress embellished with gold armour. “The Federation has no right to interfere in our internal affairs.” Jim stepped up beside you. “Quite right, your majesty,” you bowed, lowly, catching Jim’s hand behind your back before he could pull you back. “However, we have a responsibility to answer distress calls such as that sent from Maidara. Having carried out our duty here and administered the cure, all we ask from you now is permission to leave.” “And do what?” Zitaxna snarled, her delicate features ravaging across her face. “Spread tales of our weakness to your precious Federation, so that we lose all our negotiating power? No, you come here on a pretence, and masquerade as one of our own, and now you ask us to trust you?” “Queen Zitaxna, please,” a small voice begged, and you all turned your attention to the Betazoid child now kneeling beside you. “My High Queen, please. My auntie.”  “Lixa,” Zitaxna breathed, as if the little girl was a ghost. “No, these outsiders cannot be trusted, step away from them, Lixa.” “No, auntie, they saved me!” Lixa insisted, wavering to her feet. “Please Auntie.” “I said step aside, Lixa!” Zitaxna bellowed, angrily, waving her phaser at you all. “Step away!” She hadn’t meant to press it, you were sure of that, even as you dove in front of the child, pulling her away.

“Lixa!” Her horrified cry confirmed the sentiment, you thought, blearily, through the stinging pain of a phaser wound in your side. “(Y/N)!” Jim shouted, racing over to you. “Bones! Bones! (Y/N)’s hit!” He pressed the torn fabric firmly against your wound, stemming the blood flow. “Seize her!” Atraxa commanded, above you. “Queen Zitaxna, you are now charged with attempted murder and assault against a Federation officer. Guards, take her to the cells.” Deanna hovered between approaching you, and following Zitaxna. Eventually, she settled on joining the guards in escorting Zitaxna back to the capital.  “Bones!” Jim yelled again, louder. “Captain, (Y/N) will need to be treated in the medical centre on the Enterprise,” Spock reflected, calmly, appearing at your side. “Dr McCoy cannot do anything for her here. Spock to Enterprise.” You didn’t hear Uhura’s response, gripping Jim’s hand tightly as he helped you up, before you turned to the little girl beside you. “Lixa, right?” you asked, reaching your free hand out to her tear-stained face. “I think I met your mother, sweetie. Tixa, and your little sister Altrena?” “You know them?” Lixa asked, edging closer, her eyes brightening. “Are they alright?” “They’re aboard our ship, the Enterprise,” you answered, gently. “Safe and sound. In the best hands, I promise. We’ll get you all back together.” Familiar warm tingling engulfed you, and you staggered off the transporter pad for the third time. Jim caught you, taking half your weight, as Chapel and M’Benga rushed into the room, wheeling a gurney between them. “Chrissie,” you greeted, as she helped you onto the bed, stroking a gentle hand through your hair. “This is Tixa’s daughter.” Christine looked over at the small girl, who had latched onto the hand that didn’t have a Captain attached. “Welcome to the Enterprise, Lixa,” she said, scooping the child up and placing her next to you on the bed. “You’ll keep (Y/N) company on the way to see your mom, alright?” You were suddenly aware of a loss of warmth as Jim released your hand, and you reached back out for him, fingers barely brushing his hand. Christine smiled, gently. “Jim’ll be back with you soon, don’t worry, (Y/N).” You intended to smile back, but the engulfing wave of pain washed you into darkness before you could register whether you had.

[alyssaiswriting]

Tell Me Why

This is Part Two of Keep It To Myself 

Summary: High School au

You want to why Zabdiel continues talking to his ex

Word Count: 2281

When Monday rolls around you're left to face the consequences you get for making out with your friend Saturday night.

Chris and Erick are laughing as Richard describes every detail of the kiss, Joel sits beside you listening but not really caring enough to laugh.

"And I gotta admit y/n you're a good kisser" Richard smirks, you grab a grape off your lunch tray and throw it at him, Richard laughs as he catches it and pops it into his mouth with a wink.

"I'm sorry you didn't get your turn man" Richard claps his hand on Zabdiel's back.

Zabdiel who sits across from you is just looking at Richard with an emotionless expression.

"That's such a gross thing to say Richard" Joel shakes his head.

"Okay okay, I'm sorry," Richard tells you raising his hands in defense.

Chris reaches across the table to grab your half a burger that you're not eating anymore. You don't even acknowledge it, Chris is always eating whatever you leave.

The bell soon rings and the whole cafeteria stands to throw away their trash.

As you're walking to the trash cans you feel someone walk up behind you "how do you think he'll react if I told him how much we actually do" Zabdiel whispers in your ear. You look over at him as he smirks "and how much you love my tongue" teasing evident in his tone and then his voice deepens "and when I suck on your-" you roughly push him away and he laughs loudly.

You're cheeks burn red as you look at Zabdiel who sends you a wink before walking ahead to throw his tray. Flashbacks of the night in his car replay in your mind and it doesn't help to ease the reddening of your cheeks.

You're not usually a blunt person but the mix of jealousy and alcohol really made you bold that night.

 "Whoa, why is your face so red?" Joel asks walking up beside you.  

Later that day you're walking out of your last class with Joel, he's talking about this girl he has a crush on.

"Just ask her out" you shrug as you adjust your backpack so it's easier to carry.

You both walk out of the front doors of the school "I want to but, no" Joel shakes his head "Jo you need to step out of your comfort zone at least once" you sigh.

"No that's how people get hurt!" he defends himself making you roll your eyes.

You scan over the parking lot before your eyes land on a certain tall blonde dyed head.

He's talking with Fiona at a bench. He's facing away from you so you can't see his face but you can see hers as she laughs.

"Did you ask what they were talking about at the party?" Joel asks.

You shake your head. "You spent all day Sunday together and you didn't ask what he was doing talking to his ex-girlfriend?" Joel exclaims.

"He didn't go home with her and that's all that matters" you snap. "Plus we're not even dating" you turn away from the two and start walking to Joel's car since he's your ride home.

"Ok but we went over this" Joel follows after you "if he's still having sex with her and you too, that's really gross so you need to talk to him," Joel says.

You don't say anything, instead sliding into his passenger seat. You're silent the whole ride home and Joel allows you to be, he can practically see your wheels turning and he knows you're just trying to figure out your next move.

When he arrives at your house you bid your goodbyes and walk straight to your room after entering your house.

You end up taking a nap and waking up a couple hours later to your phone ringing. You answer without checking the Caller ID.

"Hello" your voice is slightly deeper due to just being awoken from your slumber.

"Hey can I come over?" you immediately recognize Zabdiel's voice.

"Not tonight," you say.

"Why? We're just gonna hang out, nothing else" he says.

"I'm not in the mood Zabdiel" you sigh.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks "is that why Joel has been really passive aggressive towards me in the group chat?"

You sit up in your bed "I just need to figure some things out"

"Wha- about us?" he questions.

"See you tomorrow Zabdiel" you hang up the phone before he can say another word.

You toss your phone aside and get started on some homework, but not even 30 minutes later there's a tap at your window.

You window is facing your backyard which is fenced in so you're hesitant when pulling open your curtains.

You open it just a crack but let out a scoff when you see Zabdiel standing on the other side.

Opening your window you glare at him "what are you doing here? And how did you even get back here?"

"Jumped the fence" he gently pushes you aside so he can climb into your room.

"And we need to talk," he says.

"Zabdiel, I need to do homework" you run a hand through your hair.

Zabdiel ignores you, walking to your bed and sitting down facing you.

"What's bothering you cariño?" he questions.

You debate on actually telling him or just dropping it because you two aren't dating and you have no reason to be getting jealous, but you also want to know what's going on between Zabdiel and his ex.

"I saw you talking to Fiona at the party and then again today after school if we're going to be doing this" you gesture towards him and yourself "then we can't be having sex with other people also," you say.

Zabdiel's eyebrows scrunch together and for a second you think he's gonna flip out so you say "and if you're planning to get back with her then just let me know so we can stop this immediately, I'm not about to be somebody's side hoe"

Zabdiel squints "y/n" he stands to his feet " it's not like that"

"Then how is it like?" you question.

"I-" he stops himself before looking at you with a sympathetic look "I can't tell you"

You frown "Zabdiel please just leave" you go to walk past him but he grabs your arm "y/n please"

"We can't continue this if you don't tell me why you still talk to her," you say a little too loud.

"It's not my secret to tell!" he says back just as loud as you.

"Y/n" your doorknob starts jiggling but luckily you always lock your door. You start pushing Zabdiel towards the window "get out, get out before they catch you"

"Y/n" your mom shouts on the other side.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Zabdiel says as he starts climbing out the window.

"Yeah ok leave" you shove him making him fall to the ground with a thud on the other side.

"Are you okay?" you say sticking your head out of the window to look at him on the ground.

He gives you a thumbs up and you nod before quickly shutting the window and closing the curtains before running to unlock your door.

Friday

You managed to successfully avoid speaking to Zabdiel, every time he tries to get you alone you quickly run and look for Joel or when he messages you, you either don't reply or give him one-word replies. You've also been sleeping at your cousin's house all to avoid anymore surprise visits.

Today you drove to school so when dropping off Joel after school he asked for you to stay for a while.

You guys end up taking a nap and not waking up till 7 pm so you just stay a while longer till about 11, cause you're supposed to pick up your mom from her job at a motel at 12 am.

You park in the parking lot and send a text to your mom that you're there before dropping your phone in the cup holder and scanning the parking lot.

As you look over to the car beside you, your eyes widen at Fiona in the driver side of the parked car beside you.

She's biting her lip as she keeps her eyes on the motel rooms section. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion turning your head to look to the rooms before looking back at her.

You watch as she sinks slightly in her seat. You look back in the direction of her line of sight.

A man and a woman walk out of a room laughing with each other before the man pulls the woman into a long passionate kiss.

They pull apart and it's only when the man turns around that you recognize him from all the school events he's attended.

It's Fiona's dad and you know that's not her mother.

You watch dumbfounded as her dad waves to the woman and walks over to his car across the parking lot.

He pulls out of the parking lot and drives off and that's when you turn your head to see Fiona still staring after where his vehicle disappeared.

Maybe it's that she felt your gaze but she turns to your direction to see you already staring back at her.

Your eyes widen and you quickly look away and sink down in your seat. Your mom knocks on your window and you jump in your seat.

Placing a hand over your heart you unlock the door for her.

"What were you staring at?" your mom asks.

You look back over to see Fiona still staring back at you.

You shake your head. "Nothing"

Saturday morning you have the house to yourself so you watch tv as loudly as you want and eat everything in sight.

That is until your doorbell rings and interrupts your favorite Netflix show.

With a groan, you stand from your bed and walk very sluggishly to the front door.

When you pull the door open your met with Zabdiel in a black beanie, a distressed white shirt, and black skinny jeans. You immediately straighten up already having an idea as to why he doesn't look his usual cheerful self.

"Fiona called me last night," he says.

You curl your lips into your mouth and gesture for him to come inside.

"If she sent you over here to make sure I don't tell anyone, you know I'm not like that" you turn to him after shutting the door.

"You can't tell Joel either," he says making you pout. Even if you promise you won't tell anyone you always tell Joel he's your best friend and all your secrets are his.

"But that's not the only thing, she told me I could tell you everything" you nod and lead the way back to your room.

Zabdiel takes a seat on the bed as you pick up the bowl of popcorn and a bag of hot Cheetos setting them on your nightstand to take to the kitchen later.

"Fiona and I have known each other a long time, you know that," Zabdiel says making you nod.

"Our parents are friends and for as long as I remember Fiona and I have told each other everything, she was my first and only best friend for a long time." you nod wanting him to continue.

"her dad has always been unfaithful, that's not a shocker. but her parents started going to counseling. I mean why go to counseling if you're not gonna try?" Zabdiel's eyebrows scrunch together. "but that's not the only reason I still talk to her. Fiona has anxiety and depression and for so long I've been the one to be there for her. I know how to help her out of an anxiety attack, I know who to call when I feel like her depression is getting too much. and I can't stop talking to her just because we broke up. I can't leave her alone"

You nod in understanding "you didn't have to tell me all that" you look down feeling guilty because you basically forced it out of him by not talking to him.

"no, it's okay, she let me tell you because she knows how much I like you" your looking at your lap when he says this. you scrunch your eyebrows not wanting to look up at him in case he takes it back.

"what?" you say lowly.

"what?" Zabdiel asks unsure of what you're questioning.

you finally look up at him you're heart pounding almost painfully against your chest as you force yourself to ask "did you just say you like me?"

Zabdiel frowns "why are you looking at me like that?"

"like how?" you ask

"like you're so surprised? you can't seriously be shocked by this?"

"I didn't think you genuinely liked me, I thought you just liked to fuck" you say

"I-" he cuts himself off shaking his head "I've liked you for so long and I never said anything cause I thought you only wanted sex"

your mouth drops as you stare at the boy before you, "I've been a jealous bitch all week and you seriously didn't think 'hmm maybe she likes me'??"

"I mean maybe I just didn't want to get my hopes up" he shrugs and your heart swells at the insecurity and all you want to do is hug and kiss his cute face.

so with a laugh, you pull him to you in a hug "stupid"

You both pull back to look at each other. Your eyes fall to his lip as you smile, he mimics the gesture before you both lean forward counting in a passionate kiss.

AN 

I was pushed to write this for a week

also if you’ve read the 2nd book of the To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before books then you know exactly what part I took from there lol

[writing-parker]

Walk Me Home, Ch. 1

Summary/Pairing: Joanna Taylor finds out Tony Stark is actually her dad. All the Avengers will be featured in this, but ultimately this is a Peter Parker X OC pairing. 

Word Count: 10k

this will eventually be rated M

A/N Hi all! So for the past couple of weeks i’ve had this idea for a fic in my head. I’m really not sure how any of this works, but it was really fun to write. Please comment and let me know what you think! There should be another chapter soon.

This has only been edited by me, so excuse any errors. 

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               She remembers the first time she saw Peter Parker. It’s really a surprise she did, considering she met him the day her life fell apart. Maybe it was his eyes- soft and brown and warm and looking at her with an intensity she wasn’t used to. She met him at a time in her life she didn’t even know she needed him, but eventually she would understand.

She was 16 and all she ever wanted was to make music. It was all she could remember dreaming about since she was 7, when her mom gave her an old guitar for her birthday. She learned four chords and wrote her first song that day. After that everything fell into place, and by the time she was 16 she was on her first world tour, opening for some of the biggest stars in the world. She was living the life she always dreamed of- until the day it came crashing down around her.

               “Stage IV pancreatic cancer,” She heard the words but she couldn’t wrap her mind around them, like a foreign language in her ears. Her mother, so strong always, was crying softly, but Jo stared straight ahead and arranged her face to in a mask of indifference. Now she needed to be strong for her dying mother.

               “So what’s the next step, what are treatment options?” Jo’s mind started moving a thousand miles a minute.

               The doctor gave her mother a pointed look, “I’m sure you two have a lot to discuss,” she said, “I’ll leave you alone now.” She got up to leave the room.

               “Wait, where are you going, we have to figure out a plan,” Jo yelled after the doctor.

               “Joanna.” Her mother grabbed her hand. “Calm down.”

               “Calm down? You’re kidding.”

               “Honey, I’ve known for a while. You and I need to talk,” Joanna’s mother patted the space next to her on the hospital bed, but Jo walked over to the window and looked idly. They were at Mount Sinai in Union Square in New York City- the world moved so quickly on the streets below her but Joanna felt like she was moving in slow motion.

               “Mom this is the best hospital in New York City, which is the best hospital in the United States, which pretty much makes it the best hospital in the whole world.” She sounded desperate even to her own ears, “We’re going to figure this out, it’s going to be fine,” She started pacing, growing frantic.

               “Joanna.” Her mom said again softly

               “What? It’s not like money is an issue. The record and the tour are selling so well-” tears started to well up in her eyes

               “Jo,” her mom said again, more firmly this time.

               “I can’t lose you.” The young girl’s voice finally broke. She found herself in her mother’s arms, “You can’t leave me,” She sobbed. It was always Jo and her mom. The only thing she knew about her father was that he was alive, and that he didn’t want her. She never met her dad and never cared to ask about him. She didn’t have any other siblings. Joanna and her mom, always, no one else allowed. Things were going to change.

               “Baby, I’ll never leave you,” Her mom squeezed her hard. “I’ll always be with you, even when you can’t see me.”

               And just like that, over the course of 30 minutes in a hospital room in New York City, her entire life changed. Jo allowed herself two days to be sad. To wallow and cry and scream at god for doing this to her, oh god why did it have to be her. And then it was time to plan and prepare for the worst.

               Her mother insisted she finish her tour. There’s only three weeks left, baby, her mom had said, you have to finish this tour. So she did, but it wasn’t the same. The doctor said that it wasn’t safe for her mom to travel, so she went on her own, and she got used to being alone. She was already used to media attention- she was young and beautiful and on a stadium tour- America’s sweetheart, Hollywood’s new golden girl. These were things that the media called her, but she just felt like a girl with a dying mom. So she kept singing, and found solace in the thousands of people singing the words she wrote alongside her. It was a distraction she desperately needed.

               But then it was over, and the stages were packed up and all the confetti had fallen and it was time to go back to New York. Jo stepped out of a cab on 14th street and was immediately swarmed by paparazzi, but she kept her head down and made it up to her mom’s room.

               The sight of her mother almost knocked her over. It had only been three weeks but it was easy to tell how sick she really was. Her already thin mother must have lost 25lbs. Her face was gaunt, and she wore a ballcap to cover her thinning hair from the treatment.

               “Hi, mom,” Joanna kissed her on the cheek. Jo found herself telling her mom about the last several weeks of tour, all of it spilling out. How the crowd in Dallas was the biggest she ever played for, and at every show more and more people knew the words to her songs. She went on until it seemed trivial, and she noticed her mom stopped responding to her stories.

               “You’re quiet,” Jo observed.

               “We need to talk,” Her mom said.

               “About wha-” Jo started, but was interrupted by a knock on the door from a nurse.  “Eleanor, Mr. Stark is here to see you whenever you’re ready,”

               “Give us 10 minutes,” her mom answered.

               “Mr. Stark? Tony Stark? Why would he be here to see you? Mom what’s going on,” Jo waited for her mom to correct her. Why would Tony Stark be there to see her mom? She was confused and nervous and stressed and a thousand other things. She had grown used to feeling this way, she supposed, but this time she really wanted to know what the hell was going on.

               “Joanna, honey, we both know I’m not going to be here much longer,” Jo opened her mouth to say don’t say that, but her mom sushed her, “I’ve been thinking about who is going to take care of you when I’m gone. And I’ve put a lot of thought into this decision, and I think it will be what’s best for you, best for everyone in this situation.”

               “What does that have to do with Tony Stark, mom?” She asked a little more harshly than she meant to, but nothing was adding up.

               “I didn’t think it was going to be this hard,” She barely heard Eleanor say under her breath, “But here we go: Tony Stark is your father, baby. And when I… when I’m not here anymore he’s going to be your guardian.” The words fell out of her mother’s mouth, and everything became blurry to Joanna.

               “My guardian? What about Aunt Lisa or-”

               Her mom cuts her off and explains that they’re so far away and they have young children and they can’t be here for you like Mr. Stark can. But she’s confused because her mom told her that he father never wanted her. But Jo’s mom doesn’t mention that for some reason.

               Tony Stark. Her father? Her mother kept on explaining but Jo didn’t hear the words. The man she saw on the news growing up, the arms-dealer billionaire who destroyed all of his weapons to do good. Iron man.

               She was still lost in her thoughts when there was a light knock, and Tony Stark himself appeared in the doorway. He gave Joanna a look she didn’t fully understand- curiosity, sadness… longing, maybe- before looking past her to her mother.

               “Eleanor,” He says quietly and strides over to her bedside and kisses her cheek, “It’s good to see you again, despite the circumstances,” Tony takes a step back and looks at Jo again.

               “Hey, kid,” He says timidly, “I’m a big fan.”

               Joanna is confused for a moment before she remembered she was a popstar. She still thought it was weird when people recognized her. Despite paparazzi following her and more than 5 million followers on Instagram, she was still used to being invisible to men like Tony Stark.

               Jo says the first thing that comes to her mind, “I’m sorry, but what the actual fuck is going on?”

               Tony’s eyes widen, “I guess it’s too soon to ask you to call me dad, huh,” He says to Jo before turning back to Eleanor, “So I take it she doesn’t know…anything?” He assumes correctly.

               “She is still in the room,” Jo snaps angrily at Tony.

               “So feisty. Just like you El.” Tony reasons. “Look, Jo, can I call you Jo?” He doesn’t wait for Joanna to answer, “Look, this is hard for us to explain.”

               Eleanor interrupts, “Tony has nothing to explain sweetheart. This is all my doing. I found out I was sick 8 months ago, Joanna,” Jo starts to do the math in her head, but her mom continues for her, “Yes, the week before you left for tour. And at first the doctors were optimistic,” Eleanor goes on, explaining, “That’s why I missed the first month of tour, I wasn’t working, I was getting treatment.”

               “It didn’t take long for them to realize nothing was taking, nothing could treat this cancer. So they gave me options. Either stay here and keep poisoning my body with radiation, or spend my last healthy months with you, on your first tour. I had to go with you, baby,”

               Joanna doesn’t realize that there’s tears running down her cheeks until her voice cracks, “What if they could have helped you, mom?” It feels all wrong to be doing this in front of Tony Stark, but she keeps going, “You should have told me, I would have-”    

                “You would have what, canceled your tour?” Eleanor shakes her head, “Over my dead body,” Jo freezes, Tony snorts, and Eleanor smiles softly, “That was a really bad figure of speech,” Joanna cracks a sad smile.

               “That doesn’t explain Mr. Stark-,” Joanna says to her mom.

               “Call me Tony,” He interjects, but Jo ignores him, not looking away from her mom.

               “- Have you always known, I mean I guess he’s always been my father but why didn’t you ever tell me? Why did you tell me he didn’t want me? Why did you call him now?” Joanna keeps spouting off questions too quickly for anyone to answer. She feels Tony Stark’s eyes on her.

               “You told her I didn’t want her?” He says to Eleanor, not taking his eyes off Joanna, “So she spends her whole life thinking her dad doesn’t love her and I spend her whole life not knowing she exists?! How is that fair Eleanor?”

               It was all too much for Joanna to wrap her head around, “I need to not be in this room,” She announced before walking out the door, knowing how unfair it was that her mother couldn’t run after her.

It was late, past visiting hours and she found herself roaming the hospital until she found a quiet place to collect her thoughts. She pressed her back against the wall and slid down until her butt hit the floor. Her mom was dying. Tony Stark was her father. Oh, god, the press is going to have a field day with that, she groaned internally. Her mom had lied to her about her dad not wanting her. Could she be angry at her dying mother, should she be angry at her mother? Things were never easy growing up, and this whole time a billionaire was her father? It felt like the world had stopped spinning.

She heard footsteps before she heard his voice, “Hey, kiddo,” Tony Stark said, sitting cross-legged in front of her. Jo picked at the skin on her thumb, “This really sucks,”

She wiped the tears from her face and looked up at Tony Stark. Jo gave him a smile, “This sucks so much,” She said in a small voice.

“We’re going to figure this out,” He assured her, putting a hand on her knee. Joanna nodded and let Tony help her up. The older man put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her.

Jo cringed under the scrutiny “What are you looking at?”

“My daughter,” Tony breathed, reverent. He paused before he said, “You have my eyes,”

“Mom always said so,”

Tony’s phone rings and the moment is ruined “Do you have to get that?” Jo asks him. Tony pulls his phone out quickly and checks the caller ID. He must decide whoever it is is unimportant, because he silences the device and puts it back in his pocket.

“No, I can let this one go,” He says to Jo, “We have a lot of talking to do. Let’s go back down to your mom’s room.”

And they talked. Eleanor explained everything. She and Tony had a brief fling in the 90s, during his playboy phase, which resulted in Joanna. She decided that she didn’t want to tell Tony and end up forcing him to marry her just because she was expecting a baby. So she didn’t tell Tony and she lied to Joanna. At the time it made sense, she told them.

But now it just seemed like a cruel joke. They talked in the hospital room for a long time, until Eleanor fell asleep clutching Jo’s hand. A nurse finally came in and addressed Joanna and Tony.

“Alright, you guys, it’s time to head out. Ms. Taylor needs her rest,” The woman shooed them out of the room. Jo and Tony stood outside Eleanor’s room, staring that their shoes.

“Um, so where are you staying, do you need a car? It’s pretty late,” Tony asked her.

“I have a Loft in Bushwick I record in, there’s a bedroom. I was planning on staying there.” Jo answered him. Truthfully, all she wanted to do was go to sleep. “I can take the train, it’s like a block away.”

“Please let me get you a car, is it even safe out there?” Tony looked concerned.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but you’ve been my dad for all of 4 hours. I’ve done just fine without you for 16 years. I can get on the fucking train and go home myself,” Jo snapped at him.   The two stand eye to eye for a few moments, both testing the others boundaries.

Tony took a step back and raised his arms in defeat, “Please be safe,” He sighs. The girl turns on her heels and walks down the hall, towards the elevator. Tony Stark stands there for a while watching Jo, watching his daughter walk away from him.

He never imagined he would feel this way when Eleanor called him all those months ago. She was sick, she had told him, and she needed help. She had had a baby more than 16 years ago and it was his. Joanna Taylor. He recognized her name, but didn’t know much about the girl. She was a singer- that much he knew. There was that one song of hers that was always stuck in his head, and we’ll never be royals, it don’t run in our blood… he hummed quietly to himself.

He had picked up a magazine with her face on it a few months ago (He actually bought two). Joanna Taylor, Exclusive Interview: Pop’s New It Girl Tells All. After a few moments of reading, Tony Stark felt his hands start to shake. Here was this girl that was half him and she had been out there for 16 years and he had no clue. He couldn’t breathe for it, and here he was reading interviews about her sudden fame, and how red carpets make her uncomfortable because she’s still getting used to how she looked and she didn’t like it when people looked at her. She gets that from her mom, he thought with a wry laugh.

But now Jo’s mom was dying. And for some reason Eleanor wanted him to know Jo. To care for her. He was sure he would screw it up somehow, but over the course of the last four hours in the hospital he had fallen in love with the girl, his daughter, and he would spend the rest of his life making up for lost time.

                  “This is Myrtle Avenue-Wyckoff Avenue, the next stop-” Jo was pulled from her thoughts as the automated voice from the subway announced they had made it to her stop. She spotted two girls, starting her way, and noticed the way their eyes lit up the moment they recognized her. One opened her mouth to say something to Jo, but she coyly lifted her finger to her lips, as if to say “shh”. The girls giggled and nodded, like it was their secret, something they only shared with Joanna Taylor.

               Jo had found more and more people recognizing her on the streets, but with her first album almost a year behind her and the tour over now too, she was hoping things would settle down. She needed them too. The doctors gave her mom a few more months, but that wasn’t something she could think about too much. Right now all she could think was, holy shit, Iron Man is my father.

               She stepped off the train and made her way down the stairs to the avenue below. Though it was late, almost midnight, but the streets were still lively around her. Joanna loved Bushwick- it was the first place she lived that took her totally out of her comfort zone. A true melting pot of all cultures, colors, and languages, each passing day in Brooklyn felt like more of an inspiration. Jo walked the two short blocks from the train to her apartment, shoving her key in the lock and making her way up to the loft apartment she rented to record and stay in when she was in New York.

               Once at the top floor of the walk up apartment, she pushed her way in and was immediately greeted by a 65lb ball of fluff rocketing across the loft towards her. “Atlas!” She called the red Australian shepherd, “come ‘ere boy I missed you!” With all of the hype of getting off of her flight straight to the hospital, and then the whole Tony Stark thing, she had almost forgotten how much she missed her dog.    

               Not far behind atlas, her roommate, Camille, came running out of one of the bedrooms. Jo met Camille nearly two years ago, when she was just 15. Camille worked at the recording studio in the City where Joanna first started writing her album- right after her single Royals became the so-called ‘song of the summer’. Camille was older than Jo by nearly three years, but the girls hit it off immediately, and when the album was released Jo asked Cam to be her assistant.

               “Welcome home!” Camille yelled across the apartment, running over to Jo to give her a hug. Jo took a look at Camille. With skin the color of a Chai Latte, haunting green eyes, and a mop of brown curls, Camille had to have been one of the most beautiful girls that Jo had ever seen. Immediately intimidated, it took Jo a long time to open up to the older girl, but once it finally happened they became fast friends. Jo isn’t sure what she would do without Camille.

               “Happy to be here,” Jo breathed, finally able to relax a little.

               “How’s your mom,” Camille asked timidly, knowing it was a hard topic for Jo to talk about. Camille was the first person Jo had told when she heard the news. They both broke down and cried on the floor of their apartment that night.

               “The doctors say she has a few months left,” The dog at her feet nudged her hand. She didn’t realize she stopped idly petting him. She scratched behind his ears.

Camille let out a deep sigh, “I’m so sorry, Jo. I don’t know what else to say,”

“There’s really not much else to say,” Jo looks away, “… but I do have some other news.”

“Do tell,” Camille made her way over to the couch and plopped down.

Good thing you’re sitting, Jo thinks to herself before blurting out, “Tony Stark is my dad.”

Camille snorts, “Yeah, and Captain America is my new boyfriend.”

Jo rolls her eyes and takes a deep breath, “Cami, I’m being totally serious. One minute I’m getting off a plane to see my dying mother and the next a nurse is at her door saying ‘Eleanor, Mr. Stark is here to see you’. And my mom’s saying she knew this whole time Tony fucking Stark was my dad and they had a fling in the 90s-”

“Didn’t your mom sleep with like half of the East Village in the 90s? How is sure….” Camille stares at Jo, “Holy shit you look so much like him.”

“Yes she did, but that’s not the point. We have the same eyes. This whole time I’m thinking that whoever my dad is could give less of a fuck about me. He didn’t even know I existed, Cam. He wanted to know me.” Jo’s voice breaks. “I’m so mad at her.”  

Camille busies herself petting Atlas. Her heart aches for Jo.

“But how am I supposed to be mad at her when she’s dying,” Joanna continues, voice dropping to a whisper. “What am I supposed to do next?”

“I don’t know kid, but I don’t think you have to figure it all out at once,” Camille reminds Jo. “…. But you do have to figure some parts out soon. I’m going to need to arrange a press release, interviews. The world already knows your mother is sick, but this is definitely not something that will stay secret for long.”

In the whirlwind of news, Jo barely even had time to think about the press. Fuck, Iron Man was her father. Like Saved-New-York-City-By-Flying-An-Actual-Nuke-Into-Outer-Space Iron Man. The whole world knew his name and his face, and a lot of people knew hers too. “This is a mess,” is all Jo can say.

Camille grabs Jo by the hands, “Here’s our game plan: you have an interview with Rolling Stone in 9 days. Two days before the interview, I’ll leak to the press that your dad is a fucking Avenger, you’ll answer some questions, and then no press or interviews or red carpets until you’re ready.”

Camille’s rationale sounded good to Jo, and she let herself relax a little. “Wine?” She asked Camille.

“I’ll grab the glasses.”

The two girls caught up over several bottles of wine, neither girl bringing up Jo’s mom’s cancer or Tony Stark for a while, until Jo, a little drunk, laughed softly, “Iron Man is my dad,” she snorted, and then started laughing so hard tears welled up in her eyes.

“What is so funny,” Camille laughed along

“Cam, my whole life, and I mean all of it, I sat around and thought about who my dad might have been. When I was in high school I used to imagine that he was a poet, or a singer or some amazing artist that had to fly all over the world. But when I was a little girl I imagined he was superhero, because why else would he not be around? He had to save people’s lives.

“Turns out,” Jo continues, “My dad is a literal fucking superhero.” And then she and Camille are hysterically laughing.

“Ok, ok, I can’t breathe,” Camille gasps. The two girls settle down.

“Do you think he’s going to try to like… parent me?” Jo asks. “Cause that ship has definitely sailed.”

“I’m not sure. Most people don’t look at 16 year-old pop icons with a top 40 album and think, ‘hm, she probably needs some fatherly advice’.” Camille mused. “Do you think Stark will be a strict dad?”

“I don’t know… I mean, it’s like I really need him for anything. I’m not a normal 16 year old. I have money, a place to live…” Jo rattled off.

“Yeah, kid, I know. But that’s not all someone needs,” Camille says sincerely. “Your mom clearly wants you to have a relationship with him, it’s practically her dying wish.” Camille had great relationships with both of her parents- something that Jo had come to envy. Camille knew how important those relationships were to her, and she imagined that Jo wanted something like it too, with her father.

“What if he doesn’t even care? Like what if he just came because she’s dying and then she’ll be gone and I’ll never hear from him again? I mean he’s Tony Stark he has a lot of shit going on and maybe he’s too busy-”

“Woah, woah, woah, calm down.” Camille hushed Jo, “Sounds like you’re already pretty invested in this, Jo. Are you worried you’re going to be disappointed?”

Joanna sighed. Yeah, there was a while a few years ago that she was obsessed with the idea of knowing her father and who he was. It was half of her, and she wanted, needed, to know more about him. So she kept bothering her mom about it until one day, when she was 12 or 13, her mom snapped and told her that her dad never wanted her, or wanted to know her. Joanna tried very hard to not care after that. But now she knew Mr. Stark never even knew about her. And the way he looked at her like she had been missing from his life this whole time gave her some kind of hope, she supposed.

“What if he doesn’t like me,” Jo whispers.

“That’s not possible.” Camille looked at the time glowing from the oven clock. “Shit, it’s like two in the morning, let’s go to bed. We have lots to figure out tomorrow.” The girls said their goodnights and Jo padded to her bedroom with the large windows, Atlas not far behind her.

She knows she has a lot to think about and even more to do, but she feels so tired when she gets into bed that she’s asleep before her head hits the pillow.

__________________________________________________________________

Across town, in a very different building on 45th street, Tony Stark stood in his office, looking down to the streets below him. New York was always lively, even at nearly 2AM. He let out a sign and ran his hand through his hair for the hundredth time. He met his daughter today.

She was so small. He hadn’t expected that. When he read interviews or saw pictures watched her perform she seemed larger than life. He was sure that every parent thought their kid was special, but, unbiasedly, his actually was. She won song of the year at the Grammys and was nominated for countless awards.

It’s all he had done for weeks. Research, he supposed. But soon he would have to talk to her. And then what? He didn’t know how to do this, to be a father to a teenager. One who was going through a really hard time with unlimited money and resources. How was he supposed to make this work? But then he saw her.

She looked like him. Dark hair, but she artfully dyed blonde that gave it a rooty look. Her hair was wild and wavy and long, something she got from her mother.  She was small in build- maybe 5’3. But her eyes were haunting. They were his. The exact color and shape and intensity.

He heard the footsteps behind him before he heard the voice, “Having trouble sleeping?” Tony turned around to face the tall blond man standing in his doorway.

“Cap,” Tony greeted him, “Why are you in my living room at 2 in the morning?”

Steve Rogers pointed at the floor below him, “My living quarters are directly below yours. And you’ve been pacing.”

“So out of the kindness of your heart you came up here to see what ails me? I’m touched.” Sarcasm dripped from Tony’s voice.

Steve chuckled, “I was actually gonna tell you to go to bed so I could sleep. But if you want to talk about it…” he trailed off, expecting the man to blow him off.

But to Steve’s surprise, Tony blurts out, “I found out I have a daughter a few weeks ago and I met her today.” He says, then turns away to continue looking out the window.

“Oh and her mom is dying. And she’s 16 years old. And she’s Joanna Taylor.” Tony sits in an armchair and puts his head in his hands.

“Hey I actually know her!” Steve exclaims. Tony groans. Steve has been carrying around a notebook he filled with pop culture references he was trying to catch up on.

“Jesus Christ, Rogers, I’m trying to have a moment here.”

“Right,” Steve says, “So… what are you going to do?” Tony continues to look out the window. “Look, Tony. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. I’m sure she’s just as freaked out as you are. Take things slow, get to know her. It will all come.”

“What if she wants nothing to do with me? What am I supposed to do then?” The words that had been stuck in the back of his throat since he found out about her tumbled out of his mouth.

“You’re kidding, right? You saved the world, Stark. Remember? I think it’ll be fine.” The two men sit in companionable silence before Steve laughs, “16 years-old? Yikes.” He raised his eyebrows at Tony.

“Don’t remind me. I’m still recovering from Parker,” But he smiles fondly at the memory of Peter Parker when they first met. 15 and naïve and ready to save the world. How was that almost 4 years ago already?

The bigger man laughs, “Peter turned out great, Tony. You found him at a time he needed a father figure and now he’s developing tech with the best in the world.”

“And he’s not dead,” Tony laments

“Definitely not dead, and I’d say that in our line of work the odds of that are higher than an average teenager. So, see? You managed to keep one teenager alive and happy, you can definitely manage another one.” Steve puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Get some sleep, Stark.”

Oddly enough, Steve’s words comforted Tony. The two didn’t see eye-to-eye always, but they were fighting on the same team. Tony knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight, so he started to work on new updates to his suit. Once and acceptable hour (at least acceptable to him) rolled around he sent a text to Jo.

Let’s grab coffee before we go see your mom today. TS.

               It’s a start, he supposed.

Jo woke up to the light streaming in her windows softly. She never closed her blinds at night, loving the way the huge windows in her loft let in the morning sun. She stretched and rolled over, reaching for her phone. Ignoring several texts, her eyes focus on one from a number she doesn’t recognize. TS. Tony Stark. He wanted to get coffee before going to see mom.

               Joanna looked at the time on her phone 8:17am. She still needed to shower and tend to the slight hangover she had from all the wine last night. She poured herself a glass of water and texted Tony back

               JT: Coffee Project @ 10??

               TS: See you there

               Jo takes the train again as she makes her way to the small coffee shop in the East Village. She’s a bit early, so she expects to get some writing done before Tony shows. Much to her surprise, Tony is already seated at a table in the back. He stands when she approaches the table.

               “No need for the formalities, pops. You can sit,” Before the words are out of Jo’s mouth, she regrets them. She had no filer. Tony sits with an amused smile. “Sorry,” she sighs, “I’ve got a bit of a foot-in-mouth complex.”

               Tony laughs, “It’s no problem. I ordered you a coffee.”

               “Perfect, I need my fix.”

               “Fix? Aren’t you a bit young to be addicted to caffeine?” Tony wondered. He saw the dark circles under Joanna’s eyes, “Did you sleep well last night?”

               “Definitely not too young, I’m in a different time zone basically every other day when I’m touring, coffee keeps me alive.” She shrugs, “I slept great last night, actually. First time back in my bed in like three weeks,” She takes a sip of the coffee in front of her. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink. Somethin’ on your mind?” She jokes

               Tony chortles, this girl is funny. “Nothing new,” He kids back with a sly grin. Then he sighs, “So,”

               “So,” Jo repeats

               “What now?”

               “You’re the adult, you’re supposed to know!” Jo laughs at him. At least talking to him was easy, the conversation flowed nicely. “I’m too nervous to say something stupid.” She admits.

               “You’re nervous? Imagine how I feel, having to make conversation with Joanna Taylor!” He rests his chin on his hand, “It’s a nightmare. I’m going to say something weird.”

               “You’re Iron Man!” She says a little loudly, laughing. Some of the other coffee shop patrons turn to look at them. She’s used to people staring at her, even taking pictures, but this time she was sitting across the table from Tony Stark, and people were confused.

               “I guess we both have big expectations to fulfill,” He takes a drink of coffee.

               “Guess so.”

               “So what have you been up to the last 16 years?” Tony asks Jo.

               She laughs out loud and just starts talking. About writing her record and the tour and how hard it’s been. She explains how hard it’s been to find people to work with, because who wants to take orders from a 16 year old. She got a little over-excited, telling him about her vision and her stages and the lights and words. How close she paid attention every tiny detail, because of how important the stories she was telling were to her.

               Tony Stark hung on her every word. He couldn’t believe he helped make her. She was the most incredible teenager he had ever met. As they talked though, he was filled with slow, anxious dread. She was so small and vulnerable and naive about the dangers of the world- of the universe. And he had seen it with his own two eyes. How could he protect her, she definitely couldn’t protect herself. He was lost in thought when he heard her small voice.

               “Are you in the City full time, Tony?” He blinks and answers her, and then it’s her turn to ask questions and he effectively pushes the dark thoughts to the back of his mind. Eventually the time would come for him to worry about that, but it wasn’t now.

               They go on like this until Sunday visiting hours at the hospital begin at 1, Jo checks her phone and exclaims, “Crap, how is it already one? I have to go see my mom. Do you still want to-” Tony doesn’t let her finish.

               “Right behind you, kid,” Tony interrupts her. Always, he wants to add but refrains. Who knew how big of a part of her life she wanted him to be, he definitely didn’t want to freak her out. So he stands and helps her out of her chair and follows closely behind her and tries to find the right words to say.

               Time passes just so- Joanna meets with Tony once or twice a week and she goes to the hospital see her mom. As days pass her mom gets sicker and sicker and sicker, disappearing right in front of her eyes. One day, when Jo knows her mom’s time is coming to an end, Eleanor sits at the edge of her hospital and grabs her hand, “Joanna.”

               Jo’s stomach drops, she knows her mom is about to tell her something bad, “Mom?”

               “It’s time to say goodbye sweetie,” Jo’s eyes immediately fill up with tears and she looks down. She and her mom had talked about this already. When it was time, Jo’s mom would let her know. Eleanor didn’t want her daughter to see her get any worse. “Don’t cry. You knew this was coming,” Eleanor rubs Jo’s hand with her thumb.

               “I didn’t think it would be so soon,” Joanna whispers, tears freely falling. “How am I supposed to leave you alone?”

               “Honey. I’m not alone. My sisters are here. I’ve made my peace,” Jo’s aunts had gotten in a few days ago. She knew then how bad things were getting.

               Jo lets out a sob. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” She admits.

               “You’re going to change the world,” her mother smiles and hugs her.

               They sit like that for a while. Eleanor holding Jo. Holding each other and whispering over and over, “I love you.” Neither ready to say goodbye, but knowing it had to happen soon. Eventually, Eleanor’s sisters, Jo’s aunts, come into the room. They spend their last hours together as a full family peacefully. There are a lot of tears and even laughter, but more than anything there is love.

               Soon it is time for them to say their final goodbyes. Jo hugs her mom one last time and says her final goodbye to her mother. She didn’t know something could hurt so much, she couldn’t breathe for it. All that she knew was that nothing would be the same ever again. She bid goodbye to her aunts, making plans to talk later.

               Tears blur her vision as she makes her way to the lobby of the hospital, walking quickly. She pulls out her phone to call an Uber, knowing she’s in no position to take the train, when she runs into a hard body, and her phone falls out of her hands, shattering the screen.

               “For fucks sake!” Jo exclaims, wiping tears from her face, “Could you watch where you’re going?” She bends down to pick up her phone, but the other person beats her to it.

               “I’ll replace that,” A familiar voice says, handing her back the broken device.

               “Tony?”

               “Let me give you a ride,” He says, reaching out to put his arm around Jo’s shoulder, but thinks better of it, and places his hand on her back and takes her out a side door of the hospital. He feels her breathing start to grow heavy and notices the devastating look in her eyes. He opens the back door of the large SUV, ushers her in, and gets in behind her.

               “Where to, boss?” Happy, his driver (among other things) asks.

               “Just a sec, Hap.” He says to the driver, “Did something happen, kid?” He tries to make eye contact with Jo, but she keeps staring at her lap.

               “Tony, I.. she.. we,” The girl stutters, crying in earnest now, “We said goodbye today, she said she didn’t want me to see her like this anymore, and…” Tony can’t understand her, she’s so distraught. He can’t take seeing this girl, his daughter, in so much pain. He wants to take it from her, to keep it from her so she’ll never feel like that again.

               But that’s not how it works, so he tentatively reaches to hug the girl. Joanna throws one arm around Tony and uses the other to clutch his dress shirt, crying into his chest, “I’m so scared,” She repeats over and over.

               Happy looks in the rear view mirror. Tony Stark looks like a fish out of water with his 16 year-old daughter clinging to him. He wasn’t exactly known as the most touchy-feely person, but seeing him so tender with the girl makes Happy smile to himself. He puts up the divider between the front and back seats to give them some privacy.

               Tony strokes Jo’s hair as she sobs. Usually, he knows exactly what to say. He always has a quick remark or joke on the tip of his tongue, but at this moment he had absolutely no idea how to comfort the crying girl. But he knew her pain, and that she was too young to be having this weight on her shoulders. After all, his parents had died when he was just 21. But for a girl to lose her mother at 16 just felt different.

               “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered into her hair, “I’m here, everything is ok,” Joanna continued to sniffle and cry until she wore herself out and eventually fell asleep in the back of the car. Tony isn’t sure how long he sits there, listening to her breathing, before he taps the window and asks Happy to take them to Avengers Tower. When they arrive, he gingerly picks the sleeping girl up carries her to an empty bedroom in the living quarters, piquing the interest of several avengers.

               “Is that international pop star Joanna Taylor?” Sam Wilson deadpanned, sweaty from his workout, “In your arms?”

               “A bit young for you, don’t you think Stark?” Wanda joked from her spot on the couch.

               “You didn’t tell them?” Tony sighed at Steve, who trailed in not far after Sam.

               “You didn’t tell me to!” Steve says definitively.

               “I didn’t tell you not to.”

               “So I just should have known?” Steve rolls his eyes.

               “Just when I thought we were finally thinking as one, Rogers.” Tony rolls his eyes back and carries Jo to a guest room, laying her in the bed. Mumbles and rolls over, pulling the blankets around her body.

               Tony then strides back out into the common room where a handful of his team are loitering, curious. “All right,” he bemuses, “team meeting, Avengers assemble, whatever. How many of you are there here…” he looks around, “Enough of you, I guess.

               “Quick announcement: Joanna Taylor is my daughter. Steve and Happy have the details, bother them if you have any questions.” Tony turns on his heel and walks out of the room, figuring in the next few days the word would spread fast enough that he wouldn’t have to answer too many questions.

               Hours later, Jo wakes up in an unfamiliar setting. She’s in a large, plush bed, shrouded in darkness. She remembers saying goodbye to her mother, literally running into Tony, and having a meltdown in the back of his SUV. She must have fallen asleep, worn out from crying.

               She threw the covers off of herself and got up, turning on the light on the nightstand. Her phone sat there, with a brand new screen. She smiled to herself and checked her texts, seeing one from her mom that just said I love you and another one from Tony.

               TS: Fixed your screen, shouldn’t be breaking again. PS- we’re having dinner on the 8th floor of the residency, come eat when you’re ready.

               Her stomach growls at the first mention of dinner. Jo makes her way out of the bedroom and walks down a corridor where she notices another empty bedroom. Entering the main room, she is met with a brand new updated kitchen and large open concept living area, it’s at least double the size of her apartment in Brooklyn.

               “What the fuck is the 8th floor of the residency, where am I” She mutters to herself, looking for some kind of signage pointing her in the right direction.

               “Hi Joanna,” An automated, robotic voice scares her so bad it sends her to the floor, “You are currently on the first floor of the residency in Avengers Tower, on 45th Street in Manhattan, New York.” Jo’s heart is beating so fast from the voice that came out of nowhere, she can barely hear what its saying. “You will find that, in the Avengers Tower, the first 59 floors are to Stark Industries offices. Floors 60-70 are for the Avengers Initiative, and Floors 70-80 are the residencies.”

               “Uh, thanks…?” She looks around, trying to find the source of the voice, “What are you exactly?”

               “I’m FRIDAY,” the voice sounds again, “You can think of me as one of Mr. Stark’s assistants. I’m sorry I frightened you,”

               “It’s okay. How do I get to the 8th Floor of the residency?” Jo asked, feeling stupid.

               “I will call an elevator for you, it will be here in approximately 30 seconds,” FRIDAY answered her.

               “Thanks FRIDAY.”

               “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

               “Don’t call me that,” Jo calls to the voice before stepping in the elevator that opened in front of her. The elevator moves almost silently up to the floor where some others are gathered, waiting on dinner. This apartment is nearly the exact same as the one she was just in, but decorated differently. She sees Tony hunched over the kitchen counter with two other men, laughing quietly over something on a tablet. There’s two women on the couch, quietly watching the news.

               She steps off the elevator and suddenly feels very nervous. “Jo!” Tony looks over at her, and then all eyes in the room are on her, “You’re awake,”

               “Uh, yeah,” She nods in his direction, “Thanks for fixing my phone,” She holds up the device and strides over to where Tony is standing with the others, feigning confidence. It was something she often had to do in her line of work, and she was getting good at it. “What’s so funny?” She gestures to the tablet on the table where a video is paused.

               Tony chuckles, “Don’t be mad but I had FRIDAY alert me when you were up. Yanno, in case you might need something,” Tony laughs a little, “I had her send a live feed of you, and well, this is what she sent,” Tony slides the device to her and presses play.

               It’s a video of Jo right after she woke up, when FRIDAY scared her. The video shows Jo walking from the bedroom, her mumbling indistinctly, and then the voice coming from nowhere. She sees herself jump about a foot in the air before falling to ground, hand over her heart, eyes wide.

               Joanna laughs out loud, “Happy to be your entertainment for the evening,” She says, arms out wide. The three men join in laughing, relieved that she can make light of the embarrassing situation. She then looks at her father and the two men around him. She recognizes Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson immediately. Truthfully, the Avengers had reached a world-wide celebrity status that was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Not everyone liked them, but everyone knew who they were.

               And Jo was suddenly very aware of the men that were standing in front of her, and how she must look after the shit day she had. Her eyes were red and dry, and her long, wavy hair was a bird’s nest. Sam, the tall, dark-skinned man to her dad’s left put out his hand to shake hers, “Sam Wilson,” he introduced himself, smiling at her. She shook his hand, “Joanna Taylor,”

               “Oh, I know,” He says to her, chuckling, “I took my 14 year old niece to one of your shows, she says that you’re the only one who gets her.”

               “I’m glad ya’ll had a good time,” Jo smiles at him, before turning to the other man with her father. Steve Rogers was bigger in person, towering over her and the other two men next to him. And oh, god, was he good looking. Tony looked over to see Jo subconsciously fixing her hair and standing up a little straighter when she introduced herself to Steve Rogers. Tony rolled his eyes, but knew the older man would never make a move on a 16 year old. And he was used to seeing women’s reactions around the soldier. He figured the young girl was probably very flustered and smiled to himself.

               Wanda and Natasha got up from their position on the couch to meet Jo. Once introductions were done, Sam moved over to the oven and pulled out the roast he made for the team. They all settled in for dinner, Jo fielding questions from the others about her and Tony’s new relationship.

               Eventually, it grows late, and Jo excuses herself, telling the group how nice it was to meet them, and that she’d be around much more. Tony follows her to the elevator, “I can have FRIDAY call you a car?” He asks her.

               “That would actually be nice, I got a google alert that TMZ published how bad my mom is doing… really not in the mood for paparazzi,” She smiles softly, looking at the floor.

               Tony asks his AI to get Happy for Jo, and they make their way down to the private garage. “Thanks for everything today,” Jo says in a small voice, rocking forward on the balls of her toes, “It means a lot,”

               Tony pulls her into a hug, it feels stiff at first, but then she melts into her father, something that she had been dreaming about since she was a little girl. “Anything for you, kid.” And he meant it. Her pretty face and quick wit had him wrapped absolutely around her finger. He never knew it was possible. He always thought that he would be a parent like his dad was, cold and unforgiving, which is why he thought he didn’t want children. But he was so soft around her.

               “See you soon, Tony.” Jo says, stepping up into the large SUV. Tony doesn’t go back up to his apartment until the SUV is completely out of sight.

               Four days after Jo says goodbye, she gets the call that her mom passed. She hardly remembers the days following. It was a lot of I-love-yous and Im-so-sorrys and paparazzi camped outside her Bushwick apartment. She cried until she couldn’t. The funeral passed in a flurry of black. She was surrounded by people for a week straight- asking her if she was ok, making her eat, telling her what to do and exactly when to do it.

               She was ready to scream all the time, and she just wanted to be alone. Finally, after 8 days of constant nagging, she was by herself. But then she couldn’t stand to be. So she starts drinking. And when her party friends, the socialites and models that she pretends to like, call. She goes out. She keeps drinking. She sorts lines of whatever drugs they put in front of her. She sleeps with boys and she doesn’t remember their names.

               She feels Camille worry for her. She ignores calls and texts from Tony. She sees headlines next to her face with the words “Fall From Grace” in bold font. She can’t bring herself to care. Because her mom is dead and what does it matter anyway?

               One night, she’s already drunk, stumbling out the door in high heels with whatever boy showed up at her apartment that night. He had pretty blue eyes and lots of tattoos and a world tour that just ended and let his hands wander over her body.

               “I’m going to come out tonight,” Camille calls after her.

               “The more the merrier,” Jo says. The three get in a car and head to the city. Jo tries to have a conversation with Camille, but the boy next to her is kissing her neck. She tries to pull away, but he just pulls her closer, his hand sliding up her breast.

               “Knock it off,” She snaps at him.

               “Stop being such a prude,” He retorts, but pulls away none the less. He then pulls a joint and lighter from his wallet and lights up in the back of the car. He passes the joint to Jo, who takes a big pull and passes it to Camille. Camille declines, shooting a nervous look at Jo, who doesn’t even notice.

               The nights go on as they all do. Bouncers pretend they don’t know she’s not 21. They get a table with bottle service, and Jo gets so wasted she can barely remember her name. But on this night in-particular, she’s out of control, dancing on tables, telling fans to fuck off. She can barely stand up straight, and Camille notices the boy she’s with getting handsier- giving her more drinks she doesn’t need. Another man, dark hair, is sitting close to them, his hand running up Jo’s thigh. Things looked bad

               Camille pulls the phone from Jo’s small purse, and sends a text to the only person she can think of.

               JT: Hi, this is Jo’s roommate Camille. We’re at Up & Down downtown. Jo’s not doing too good right now, I need you to come get her.

               The reply is almost immediate.

               TS: We’ll be there

               Immediately relieved, she slides Jo’s phone back into her bag. Camille knows Joanna might not forgive her for now, but things were getting out of hand, and she was worried about her best friend. Then, the boys Jo is with pulls her up and start to direct her to a private room and Camille immediately panics.  

               It’s the same moment Tony Stark strides in the dark club with another young man. Peter Parker- Camille recognizes him- Spiderman. She wonders if they were together. Running up to the two men, Camille points in the direction of the men dragging Jo away from the crowded table.

               “Thanks Camille, we got it from here,” and with that the stressed out girl gets herself a cab home.

               Jo doesn’t see Tony and Peter approach her, but rather feels herself being ripped from the grasp of the boys.

               “Where are you going?!” A familiar voice asks. It takes her eyes a while to focus on her father. Her eyes are red and unfocused, high as a kite.

               “What are you on?” He demands. She looks at him with blurred eyes, not able to form words. “What did you give her?” He turns his attention to the pissed off boys.

               “Hey, man nothing she didn’t want. We were gonna give her more of what she wants, before you interrupted,” And with that, he boys hand is on Jo’s arm, yanking her roughly towards them. She stumbles and hits the ground, crying out.

               “You really shouldn’t have done that,” Tony says. But before he can react, Peter Parker has both boys on ground, and is helping Jo to her feet. Tony gives him a look.

               “What? No one should touch a girl like that,” Peter defends his actions, tips of his ears turning red. Jo leans on his chest, unable to stand upright. She smells like weed and alcohol and something unmistakably her. It’s intoxicating.

               “I’m going to pretend you’re not blushing over my daughter right now,” Tony rolls his eyes and they begin to make their way to the exit. “Why would any human ever voluntarily come here?” he shudders.

               Joanna, who has no idea what’s going on, struggles against Peter, “Where are you taking me,” She slurs.                

               “Jesus christ was that even English? We’re taking you home,” Tony answers.

               Jo must fall asleep on the way home, because the next thing she remembers is Peter Parker lifting her up like she weighed no more than a feather and carrying her up the four flights of stairs to her loft. She mumbles that she can walk herself, but he either can’t understand her or he’s ignoring her. Once inside, Peter puts her down and she sways a little, but manages to stay upright. Tony steps in front of her

               “What were you thinking, Jo?” Tony says harshly.

               “I had it under control,” She whispers back

               “The hell you did! If we wouldn’t have come when we did…” he trails off remembering those two punks pulling her small, intoxicated form to a private room, “You need to make better decisions than the ones you’ve been making!”

               Jo snorts and rolls her eyes, “Sorry to break it to you, Mr. Stark,” She practically spits his name at him, “But I don’t need you to parent me.”

               “Well who the fuck else is going to do it then?” He sees tears well up in Jo’s eyes and immediately regrets his comment.

               “Fuck you,” She says vehemently

               “Wow, the first ‘fuck you’. What a memorable parenting moment.” Tony says under his breath before continuing, “You are out of control. This lifestyle is going to kill you if you keep it up, don’t you understand that? Nothing good comes from all of this!” He gestures to her kitchen table, where the drugs and alcohol from before the club are sitting.

               “You don’t just get to come in and be ‘dad’ all of the sudden, Stark. That’s not how this works!”

               “Forgive me if I haven’t been in a situation like this before, but I’m trying my fucking best.” They’re screaming at each other across the apartment. Peter sheepishly stands behind Tony, trying to make himself invisible.

               “I don’t need your money, I don’t need your advice, I don’t need anything from you!” Jo gets in his face, “I don’t need you.” She repeats. As she says the words, she knows they couldn’t be further from the truth.

               Her words hurt Tony in a way he didn’t know was possible, but he reminds himself that she’s drunk and high out of her mind on cocaine. Of course she needed someone to take care of her. “I just found you, I can’t lose you again.” He whispers.

               She blinks and looks up at him sadly, “You never had me.”

               Tony shakes his head and takes a step back, “I need some air. You shouldn’t sleep right away with all that shit in your system. Give it an hour or two.” And he strides out of the apartment, shutting the door gently behind him. Jo grabs an empty beer bottle and hurls it at the door, flinching at the sound it makes when it shatters.

               She sits at the table, puts her head in her hands and groans. What the fuck was she going to do now? Jo jumps at the sound of Peter clearing his throat. “You know, I, uh, my parents are dead.” He says, kind of forgetting what he was saying when her eyes met his.

               “Cool.” She sorts.

               “No.. I mean… what I was saying…” He paused, flustered. “I lost my parents when I wasn’t much younger than you. I know how it feels. Tony was great, actually. He helped me a lot.” Peter runs a hand through his hair.

               Jo looked at him with still bleary eyes, “I don’t care,” then she stomps to her room and slams the door.

[wolvescried]

☁

☁  five times my muse has thought about yours, and the one time they do something about it.

i. sometimes people were like puzzles, and ezra was drawn to them like a moth to a flame. he’s seen the girl around, hovering around the restaurant his family’s been going to ever since it opened up. he’s sixteen and wondering what it’d be like to love someone, and if it was ever possible to come in the form of her. she’s just a stranger, of course, but he can’t help but wonder. his fingers drum against the table as he and his parents wait for their order, and for a split second, their eyes meet from across the restaurant. he is the first to look away.

ii. college, as it turns out, becomes the place where you seem to know everyone. ezra knows the girl in one of the windows of the art building, though he’s never really talked to her before. he thinks that maybe, just maybe, one day he’ll get to put a name to the face. his opportunity comes when he sees her at a party, lazing across someone’s sofa and talking to someone. when they leave her alone, he awkwardly tightens his grip on his beer, and takes a deep breath. he steps forward, but her friend is back. it’d be rude for him to butt into their conversation, so he moves away again. another time, maybe.

iii. he finally gets his chance a few weeks later, but he still feels awkward. jo becomes a mystery he’s eager to crack, hot and cold with the way she reacts to him. but the more they revolve in each other’s circles, the more he has reason to believe they’ll get closer. while he’s shopping for his cousins’ christmas gifts in korea, ezra comes across a doll that seems to look just like her: blonde hair, big eyes, a heart-shaped face. he stops, peering forward to take a quick snap of the photo. when he gets home, he has half the mind to send it to her, see what she thinks of it; but he stops, and closes the app. they’re not that close yet.

iv. what do you do when you’re faced with a problem? usually, you figure out how to solve it so it’s over and done with. and while ezra is more than reconsidering his plan of action here, he’s never done too well with impulse control. but hey, he figured he’d ask. he tries to rehearse the words he says in his head over and over again like the dorky sidekick of an 80′s teen movie: han, you coming to this one party i heard about? we could, like, go together. i mean i could drive you there and shit. maybe we could pregame at your place. the more he thinks about it, the more it sounds stupid to him. he finally arrives at thayer hall with the intention of knocking on jo’s door, but he reconsiders. he stands for a little too long and the r.a. is asking him for who he’s looking for, but instead ezra lets out a small smile and a shake of his head. “no one, sorry,” he lies. it’s so smooth he almost believes it himself. “i don’t think they’re in today.”

v. smoke curls out of his lips as he lies on his childhood bed, the window popped open so the smell of weed doesn’t fill the room. if there’s one less thing he wants his parents to worry about, it’s him cruising through college partially stoned. his family dinner’s only two hours away, but with the way he’s pleasantly mellowed out, he’s reconsidering the nap he’d originally thought of having. instead he pulls out his boots and heads off, thinking a drive would be a much better way to clear his head. he’s cruising through the streets of raleigh when he spots a familiar figure a few feet away, perusing through the shops that line downtown. he rolls down the window as he pulls up at a stoplight, sticking his head out. half of his mind tells him to yell out to her, the other half is telling him to get a move on because the light’s turned green again, and he has to go. he ducks back in, and drives, the sounds of car horns much louder than he’s used to.

vi. he’s paying off his dealer behind the back alley of one of the college bars he frequents, shoving the baggie into his pocket. the wind bites his chubby cheeks and his nose is turning red from the bitter cold. ezra trudges into the bar to get some warmth, and after a glass or two of beer he's pleasantly buzzed. he gets an idea and whips out his phone, fingers still shaking slightly from the cold. “fucking hell,” he mutters, shaking his head. there’s only one person he can think of that might do this with him, and it takes another half-glass for him to send a text: yo, jo. got a new baggie and it’s the night after the birthday and i know it’s fuckin crazy but would u maybe wanna smoke some of it atop the observatory??? i know it’s cold as shit but like. it’s always good smokin w u. let me know, i’m here at the bar. u know the one.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

No Exit- Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,685

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual,

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Please, if you want to be tagged for this series, let me know and I’ll add you! If you want to be tagged for my other fics, I’ll add you! I want to hear what you guys think about this. If you want something requested, send it in!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

After Dean found that clump of hair, he was the one to decide that this search was to be halted since it was getting pretty late. You were getting tired yourself and agreed to take the rest of the night off. Sam and Dean being the perfect gentlemen they are, offered the bed to you and Jo. You weren’t going to complain and took it.

There were two couches and even though Sam and Dean were tall as fuck, they would have to deal with the tiny couches for how they were behaving. Sam didn’t do anything wrong but if Dean would get punished, then so was his brother. It wasn’t fair but it seemed fair at the time.

It was now the morning and Dean was still sleeping on the couch, curled into an uncomfortable sleep position and immediately you felt bad. He was only doing what he thought was right by protecting you and Jo. You saw where he was coming from but Jo was her own person.

Yes, you were worried about her but she could make her own decisions. At 21-years-old, you were already deciding between which monster you’ll take, which type of gun you’ll have, what kind of wounds were worth stitching up, and what kind of alcohol would get you through the night.

Hunting wasn’t a walk in the park, that’s for sure. You were just glad that Jo had both Winchesters and you with her to defeat this monster. When you were new at hunting, hunting by yourself was a real eye opener. It made you see that hunting alone sucked. You had no source of backup and that is what hunting is all about. You needed people to have your back.

“So, what happened to your mom?” Jo asked suddenly, twirling her knife with more blueprints on the table.

“I already told you, a demon got to her.” You said, looking down.

“I know that but how? I’m sorry if I’m being nosy.” She said, shaking her head.

“No, it’s okay. The more I talk about it, the better it becomes. I came home one day and I found a man trying to kill her. I ran, I hid, until he found me. I fell down the stairs and he slit my mother’s throat right in front of me.” Your eyes became glossy as you remembered your tragic past.

“How old were you?” She asked in a whisper.

“8. I became a hunter right after that.” You said with a sigh, looking down.

“I’m sorry. All I know is that my dad died on a hunt when I was 10 years old. I don’t know how he died but I wasn’t the same when he left.” Jo said, looking down.

“I’m sorry. It sucks that we get into this life without a say in it. If I could somehow have affected any of this, I would have chosen a different life for me… For Sam… For Dean. He doesn’t deserve any of this. I think one of the reasons he lashed out at you because he’s scared. I remember being on my first hunt. I was terrified and I thought I was going to die but Dean helped me through it.

“Even though he helped me, I knew he was scared. There are no rooms for mistakes when hunting and I think with you being so young and inexperienced, he got worried. He may not know you or your mom but he can’t lose another person in his life.” You finished with a sigh. Sirens were heard in the distance and that is what woke Dean up.

“Morning, princess.” Jo said, putting this conversation with you on hold.

“Where’s Sam?” Dean said, opening his eyes and looking around the room.

“Went to get coffee.” You answered for her. Dean slowly got up, grimacing and groaning at his sore muscles.

“Ugh. My back. How'd you sleep on that big soft bed?” Dean asked, looking at you and Jo.

“We didn’t. This case has me up all night.” She said. Dean looked at her, his eyes zeroing in on the knife in her hand. He got up and took his bag, placing it on the table. He took out a Bowie knife, handing it to her with the blade facing him.

“Here.”

“What’s this for?” Jo asked, looking at the knife.

“This will work a hell of a lot better than that little pig-sticker you're twirling around.” Dean said. Jo took the knife and inspected it, handing hers to Dean. He looked at it but stopped when he saw what was engraved on the side.

“William Anthony Harvelle.” Jo said, knowing what he was looking at.

“I’m sorry, my mistake.” Dean said, taking his knife back and giving her own back to her.

“What do you remember about your dad? I mean what is the first thing that pops into your head?” Jo asked, looking up at Dean. He shook his head, not wanting to get into this but he caught your eyes. You had hope in them and you had compassion in them. You reached your hand out and took his, sliding your fingers together to know what he wasn’t alone in this. Dean sighed and took a seat next to you, refusing to meet Jo’s eyes.

“I was maybe 6 or 7 and he took me shooting for the first time. Nothing serious, just some balls on a fence but I nailed every single one of those. Then he gave me this smile, like… I don’t know. I can’t explain it.” Dean said with a small smile, remembering the good times with John.

“He must have been proud.” Jo said with a smile. You tightened your hand on his and looked at him with admiration.

“I know I am.” You smiled. He looked at you and winked slightly before turning back to Jo.

“What about your dad?”

“I was 10 when he died, but I could remember him coming home from any kind of hunt. He’s burst through the front door, looking like a beaten up Superman or something like that. He’d sweep me up in his arms and with one smell, I would feel at home. It didn’t matter where I was or what happened that day. When he came home, it was the best feeling in the world.

“And my mom, who was always sour and pissed whenever he left, would have a smile on her face when she saw him. We were a family again. You want to know why I want to do this job? It’s for him. It’s my way of being close to him. Now tell me, what’s wrong with that?” Jo said, looking at Dean. Dean clenched his jaw and he nodded, understanding.

Suddenly, Sam bursted through the door to the apartment with wide eyes and no coffee.

“Sam, where’s the coffee?” You asked, taking in how worried and shocked he looked.

“There are cops outside. Another girl disappeared.” Sam said, sighing deeply.

“I’ll go check it out. You three stay here.” Dean said, getting up. He grabbed what he needed and he left the apartment, leaving you and Jo with Sam.

“What the hell happened?” You asked Sam, walking over to the window and peeking outside to see a ton of cop cars surrounding the building.

“I was on my way up and before I knew it, cops surrounded the building. I may have pestered one of the cops into telling me but another girl disappeared.” Sam said with a sigh.

“Okay but that still doesn’t explain why you don’t have the coffee.” You said, looking at him.

“Sorry.” Sam said with a shrug. You shook your head and sat back down with Jo at the table where the blue prints and notes for the case. Any kind of clue would be helpful at this point. Dean returned shortly after with a frown on his beautiful face.

“Her name was Teresa Ellis who lived in Apartment 2F. Her boyfriend reported her missing around dawn.” Dean informed.

“What about her apartment?” You asked.

“There were cracks all over the ceiling and the walls. Plus, some of that ectoplasm we saw earlier.”

“Well, judging the fact between this ectoplasm and the clumps of blonde hair, I would say this thing lives in the walls.” Sam said, fitting the pieces together.

“What are we doing wrong then?” Dean asked, frustrated.

“Maybe we’re looking in the wrong place.” Jo said, picking up a photograph. You leaned across the table to look at the picture.

“What do you mean?” Deana sked, walking over to the table.

“Well, here is a picture of what was here before this building. There’s nothing but an empty field but look at the kind of building beside it.” Jo said, showing you the photo before handing it to Dean who showed Sam.

“Wait a minute, the windows are barred. Wait another minute, we’re next to a fucking prison?” Dean said, handing the photo back. Jo immediately grabbed her phone and dialed someone. Probably Ash since he was a wizard at finding out things.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of cool. Don’t you remember that Asylum we went to with the psycho doctor? This isn’t much different.” You said while Jo talked to the mysterious person.

“Yeah, but Y/N, that was an asylum. This is a prison with murderers, rapists, hard ass criminals.” Dean said, leaning against one of the chairs at the table.

“Aw, is Dean a little scared of a little criminal?” You teased and he gave you a scowl.

“Alright, guys, I spoke with Ash and what was next to us is the Moyamensing prison. It was built in 1835 and it was torn down in 1963. Plus, they used the empty field next to them to execute people by hanging them.” Jo said, repeating what Ash told her.

“Alright, then we need a list of who was executed here.” Sam said.

“Ash is already on it.” Jo said with a nod.

“Alright, in the meantime, who wants some alcohol?” You asked with a grin.

The Queens:

@maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith @mogaruke @whit85-blog@inlovewithbja @spn67-sister@kdfrqqg@jarpadandjensenaremyheroes@roxyspearing@supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose@cobrakai1967@essie1876@wishedworld @justanotherdeangirl @crispychrissy@laqueus-ludovicus @nostalgic-uncertainty @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @potterhead1265 @starswirlblitz@untitled39887 @ta-n-ja@deans-fallen-angel-boy @scarletluvscas @notnaturalanahi@tahbehonest @stay-in–place @dreaminofdean @posiemax@donnaintx

Dean Beans:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie@spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spn-applepie-imagines@tahbehonest @carribear31 @tacklesackles @oreosatmidnight@not-naturalfangirl @missselinakitty @iam-a-cutiepie

Series Rewrite Junkies:

@helllonearth @amyisabellal @deanwnchstr @caseykitten6 @roxalya19 @quixoticcat @supernaturalblogging @notmoose45 @crowleysminion @mina22 @tahbehonest @spn-applepie-imagines @hadleymcallister2177 @destielsangels @spnhybrid @oreosatmidnight @valerieshubin