#and like I said...sometimes things are nice just so the problem later hits harder :o

[ateezthings]

ATEEZ Reaction: Forced breakup with S/O + admitting their insecurities

@hongjoongscftie said: “Hey :) first thing,I hope you're having an amazing day! And secondly,could I maybe request an ateez reaction? I was thinking of the ateez members being insecure about something on themselves (like voice,looks,etc) and reader is telling them that there's nothing to worry about,and that they love them just how they are,and that they always will be there for ateez,but a week later the management is forcing reader to break up with their boyfriend,because it could affect their career,and as they are packing their things (member) walks in? I don't know if this made sense,and I'm sorry for my bad english 🥺”

I hope this is what you had in mind 😊 (Also please normalize dudes talking about insecurities)

 Genderneutral

Angst, Fluffy moments

Pairings: You x each member

Warnings: language, breakups, topics of body image, insecurities, crying (San’s part is the most heartbreaking)

Word count: 3.2K

 Songs, that convey the feeling I was going for:

     Twocolors – Lovefool

     Lauv – The Other

     Young Lions – You Are II

     One Republic – Didn’t I

     Halsey - Sorry

*~Seonghwa~*

“Do you like my voice?”

It was late. Seonghwa and you were in bed, about to fall asleep.

“Hm? Yeah, sure Hwa, there’s a reason you sell so many albums.”

“That’s not what I asked, I wanted to know if you like my voice.”

Now you sat up, he really was unsure of this. “Seonghwa, I love your voice… You don’t know this but whenever you’re gone over night, I listen to your demos to hear you sing because it helps me fall asleep.”

That statement conjured a shy smile on his face. “I love you Y/N” He pressed a kiss on your forehead.

…

“No no no… don’t leave me Y/N, please, don’t.”

After the very stern talk with their manager, you had no choice but to pack your bags. Halfway through packing, Seonghwa barged in, a panicked look in his eyes, worried when he saw your tear-stained face.

“We can talk about this… just please, don’t go like this” While begging you to stay he took your clothes out of the bag.

“Mr. Kim made it quite clear that I should leave if I don’t want to ruin your career… I don’t think we have a choice Seonghwa”

“We do, I’ll talk to him, we can be together... maybe we’ll have to stay quiet for a few months, but I can’t lose you, I love you so much and I don’t think I could live without you now, so tell me you really would be okay with leaving, because I don’t think you are” He spoke so fast, you had trouble understanding him.

A new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks as you slowly approached him. “I’m not, I’m not okay with leaving you because I need you too.”

He opened his arms to hug you. Feeling his heartbeat next to your ear calmed you down.

 *~Hongjoong~*

“Ugh, I need to train more” He mumbled when he saw himself in the mirror.

“What did you say?” You knew from your own experience that insecurities could consume your whole thinking, so you wanted to prevent that from happening to your boyfriend.

“I just wish I had bigger arms, I look like a weakling next to the other guys.”

“No… no you don’t, you look perfect to me, you know I love you the way you are… Please don’t think about it too much, Joong.”

“Baby, I love you too, thank you” He put an arm around you shoulder and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

…

You didn’t remember the walk home after the talk with Ateez’ manager. You couldn’t leave him. Hongjoong was the first serious relationship you had in quite a long time; you couldn’t give him up. But you couldn’t lie, talking to their manager intimidated you a lot. You didn’t know what would happen if you didn’t comply, and you didn’t want to find out.

You were still in a state of shock when Hongjoong arrived.

“Y/N? Are you home?” He practically ran to the bedroom where you were.

“Please Y/N, I’m sorry I didn’t know they’d do this” He helped you sit up on the bed and crouched down in front of you. You still couldn’t talk.

“Babe, please talk to me.”

Finally, you looked at him. “I don’t know… I don’t know what to do… I don’t want to leave, but I also don’t want to be the reason for your problems… Please tell me what to do.”

“I don’t want you to leave me” There was genuine worry in his eyes. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you… and I think we’ll find a way to deal with them.”

At the moment, you really needed him to be optimistic for the both of you. Slowly, you cupped his face with your hands, you never wanted to forget his face. “I’ll stay with you.”

 *~Yunho~*

“Y/N, can I talk to you about something?”

“Always, babe, what’s going on?”

You two were cuddling in his bed after a long and stressful day.

“Do you think I should get a six pack?” When you looked at him, he was biting his lip.

“Where is this coming from?” You knew he needed to be in shape to be an idol, but he was, there was nothing you’d change about him.

He still didn’t look at you “I just… Sometimes when we have dance rehearsal, I feel stupid standing next to San, we’re both dancers but his abs are amazing, he’s been working so hard, and it’s really paid off… we gained a lot of fans through him…”

“Alright listen to me Yunho:  If there are fans that are only here for your look, that’s pretty shallow, of course it’s nice to look at pretty people but your message and the songs and your energy is much more important… You are in shape, you’re a main dancer, rationally I don’t think you need to change anything if you’re happy with yourself… and if you’d like to know… I like your soft tummy; I wouldn’t change a thing about you… I love you.”

He finally looked at you, his eyes sparkling, slowly breaking into a smile “I love you too, baby, what would I do without you?”

…

Tears were running down your cheeks, blurring your vision while you were trying to put your clothes into a bag. A friend had offered you could stay with him for a few weeks after Ateez’ manager told you, you needed to leave Yunho. You couldn’t believe it. They didn’t leave you a choice, either you’d leave voluntarily, or they’d have to take more serious measures.

You hadn’t talked to Yunho, but you figured their manager did. You didn’t want to make it harder than it already was. Leaving without a trace would be the best.

Suddenly you heard the door open, no, you couldn’t deal with him now.

“Y/N?” It sounded like he was out of breath once he arrived at the bedroom where you were.

“Y/N? please don’t do this.” His eyes were wide open.

“What choice do I have? You don’t need me to ruin your career.”

“I don’t care about that; I care about you… I can’t live without you, please” He moved closer to take your hands into his. His eyes stared into yours, you could almost see his pain.

You let yourself fall into his arms, letting the tears flow “I love you, Yunho… I don’t wanna go.”

He held you close to him, running his hands through your hair “Then stay.”

 *~Yeosang~*

“Hi, baby… I’ve missed you today.”

Yeosang had just come home from work. You greeted him with a big hug. He buried his head in your neck and you could feel him shifting some of his weight onto you.

“Are you okay, Yeo?”

You could hear him breath deeply. “Actually, no, I feel like shit… Remember how we were recording our new song today?”

“Yeah, the one you practiced really hard for.”

“Yeah that. And I totally messed it up… I couldn’t get this one melody right and they were all telling me how I was supposed to sing it, but I didn’t get it right, so I have to go back there tomorrow.”

The way he looked at you reminded you of a hurt puppy, your heart burst inside. So, you pulled him into a hug again. “I’m so sorry, Yeo, that must’ve felt horrible… but I think everyone has bad days sometimes.”

“But it’s made me really insecure of my singing now… I don’t know how I’ll shake that off…”

“It’s okay to doubt yourself sometimes Yeosang, but don’t forget that you’re a professional singer, you have a great voice, so many people love your voice, including me, and you will be able to nail it eventually, you just had an off day, and that’s totally okay… You know there’s probably days were even Beyonce can’t hit the right notes, so don’t worry too much.”

He chuckled a little at your remark and finally looked up at you again to press a kiss on your cheek. “Thank you, love.”

“Now relax and let me take your mind off that.”

…

“Yeosang, I’m sorry, they left me no choice but to leave…” The tears were streaming down your cheeks, you had given up on trying to hold them back a long time ago. Yeosang however, still hadn’t said a word since he came home to you packing your bags. He just stood in the doorframe to the bedroom.

“I’m not going to stand in the way of you and your career, I know how important it is to you, so I guess… I guess this is good-goodbye…” Your voice was dangerously unsteady.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” You tried to wipe your nose on the sleeves of your hoodie when he handed you a tissue.

Slowly he walked over to you and took you into his arms. You could feel his heartbeat.

“Please, don’t go now…” His voice was only a whisper. “Y/N… don’t you love me anymore?”

In between soft cries you managed to utter a response. “I do lo-love you… but is that enough?”

You looked up at him. You could tell he feared what was to come.

“It is enough for me… I love you so much Y/N, promise you won’t ever leave without talking to me first?”

“I promise” The kiss that followed tasted like salty tears, but it solidified the love you had for Yeosang.

 *~San~*

“San, are you alright? You seem distant.”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine”

You two were having dinner at your favorite restaurant, but he hadn’t spoken much. Usually, he’d tell you how his day went, but not today.

“Are you sure?”

“Alright, no… I feel under pressure because I need to maintain my abs. Now that I’ve showed them, I feel like everyone expects me to be the muscular guy now… but you know that’s not natural for me.”

You felt for him. He worked so hard but now it was getting too much.

“San, you don’t need to prove yourself to anyone… It’s fine if your abs are not visible all the time… You need to take care of yourself… mentally… and I love you with or without abs if that helps.”

He softly put his hand on yours. “It does help.”

…

His management knew you two had been dating for only a few months, but it was getting serious. And they disregarded that. Being forced to breakup never even entered your mind, so it came as quite the shock to you when Mr. Kim, Ateez’ manager, revealed that you indeed had to break up with San.

At home you were halfheartedly putting your clothes in suitcases, but it felt surreal. Like a nightmare.

You had gotten so used to living with San and to think that it was all over now, because you needed to protect his career made your eyes fill with tears.

When the first tear hit the floor, you heard the door open. San stood next to you just a moment later. He himself had red swollen eyes, you assumed he had been crying too.

“Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about leaving me?”

“What choice do we have?” Your tears threatened to spill again.

“I-I don’t know right now, Y/N, but I’ll figure something- we will figure something out, please don’t do this right now, I can’t have you leave me, please.” The more he spoke, the faster and the more panicked his tone got, his eyes opened wide. His hands gripped your arms on each side. You assumed it took a lot out of him not to shake you.

“San, I don’t think that’s a- a possibility anymore… Mr. Kim, he sounded so serious…”

Suddenly he let go of you and took a step back. “Do you- do you want to go?”

You didn’t know what you wanted anymore. It was late and you were drained. Apparently, you hesitated a little too long for San’s liking because he turned around, headed for the door.

“No, San, don’t leave, please, I don’t-” But he was already out the door.

Had you not felt broken-down, you might have followed him out the door, but not like this. You collapsed to your knees and let the tears wash the little composure that was left, away.

 *~Mingi~*

“Wow, Y/N, you look gorgeous.”

Mingi entered your shared bedroom while you were putting on some makeup.

“Thanks, baby”

He walked behind you to look at the mirror. A few moments passed when you realized he was staring at his own reflection.

“What are you thinking?”

He took a deep breath before answering. “I’m wondering if my face is handsome enough.”

That was it, you weren’t having him doubting himself. You turned to look straight into his eyes. “Listen to me, your face is so unusually handsome, I’m still amazed whenever I look at you… your eyes are so warm, they’re my favorite feature of yours… also your face is doing a pretty good job at keeping your eyes, nose and lips in place, so you really shouldn’t complain” You had hoped a little humor would take his mind off his insecurity.

He chuckled. “That’s why we’re in a relationship, you always talk me out of bad moments… thank you baby.”

…

Mingi was already home when you got there. For a while you just looked at each other, neither of you knowing what to say.

“Hi…”

“Y/N, I didn’t know they want us to break up, I’m sorry, I’m going to talk to them.”

You couldn’t help but hug him. He was your safe place. “I don’t want us to breakup, Mingi… I can’t lose you” The thought of not having him in your life drew tears in your eyes, it was too painful.

“Shh shh, you’re not going to lose me… I won’t let that happen.” He tried to calm you down by caressing your hair. “We’ll find a way” He whispered, more to himself than to you.

 *~Wooyoung~*

It was very early in the morning. Wooyoung was already getting dressed while you were having trouble to get out of bed.

“Babe, do you think my thighs are too big? I feel like my jeans are getting tighter…”

Once you opened your eyes you saw Wooyoung trying to squeeze his fabulous thighs into some jeans, he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

You slowly got out of bed, not taking your eyes off him.

“Clothes can always be altered… and I love your thighs… they’re really… hot” You blushed a little.

“Is that so?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and kissed you.

…

Why did you have so many clothes? All the tears blurred your vision and whenever you put five shirts in your suitcase another ten were behind that, it was frustrating.

You tried to focus on the simple task of packing, trying hard not to think about the whole situation. You couldn’t believe they expected you to leave Wooyoung. You loved him, and he loved you. And that was supposed to not matter at all?

When you were done, you just sat on the bed. You were worn-out from crying so much.

You didn’t even hear him enter the apartment. Suddenly Wooyoung stood in front of you in the bedroom.

“I came as soon as I heard… I’m sorry babe… you don’t deserve all this shit.” He helped you stand up and took you into his arms.

“I’m just tired, Woo.”

His response was to hold you closer to his chest. “I know… we can go to bed.”

A few minutes later you were lying in his arm about to drift off to sleep, leaving your troubles behind.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I just have one question.”

“What is it?”

You could hear him inhale deeply.

“Would you- Are you considering leaving me?”

You didn’t think he’d be thinking about that. “Wooyoung, I love you; I will never leave you… I thought you knew that…”

He pressed a short kiss in your hair. “I just needed to hear that… I love you so much, little one.”

  *~Jongho~*

“Baby, do you think my butt is too big?”

You were just about to leave for work when you saw him standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom.

“Hu- wh-what?” You took a few steps towards him to give his booty a little slap.

“Jong, booties can never be too big” You smirked at him. “I love your cute little butt… and I love you… so stop being insecure about it” You pressed a kiss on his cheek. He blushed.

…

After your meeting with a KQ executive, you couldn’t think straight. They told you, you needed to leave Jongho as soon as possible because of his career.

Somehow you made it back home where you collapsed into your tears. After a few minutes you mustered up enough courage to pack your bags.

You left the apartment with two suitcases dragging behind you. You had almost made it to the end of the street when you saw him running towards you. “Y/N wait!”

When he finally stood in front of you, he was quite out of breath. Looking at him drew more tears into your eyes. You had trouble holding them back “Jongho, we don’t have a choice, I need to do this, I can’t keep hurting you more.”

“No, please, I love you, this is hurting me more than my career ever could… please don’t leave me, we’ll find a way to fix this.”

He held one of your hands in his two big hands, his eyes opened wide.

You really weren’t sure if you could hide your relationship from his agency and the fans. You were so unsure of the whole situation, but you knew you loved him.

After a few moments of silence, you kissed him with all your passion.

“I do love you Jong, but this is going to be really hard, so I need you to help me when I doubt myself, when I doubt us.”

“I will, I won’t let you go again.”

[peach-pops]

hey!! I love your writing and was wondering if u could do a scenario of either iwaizumi or kuroo where they hit the ball too hard and it hits their s/o which also happens to be the manager of their team

Thank you for this request! I hope it’s okay that i decided to write them both cause duh. 

Iwaizumi + Kuroo Hitting Their S/O with a Volleyball

➣Iwaizumi 

“ Iwa-chan, if you stare at her much longer, she’s going to file a restraining order against you,” Oikawa teased as Iwaizumi peeled his eyes off of you and sent a glare towards his teammate who was getting ready to serve,” not to mention your eyes are practically bulging out of your head and it’s making you look like a toad.” 

Iwaizumi slapped the volleyball out of Oikawa’s hands as a small whine came out of the setter’s mouth. Iwaizumi held in his laughter as he watched Oikawa run after the ball and turned his attention back to you.

Iwaizumi had no shame, you two had been dating for a short time but now it wasn’t as big of a deal if you caught him staring at you versus before the two of you got together. You weren’t his first girlfriend but so far, things were already looking out to be good between the two of you. 

There haven’t been any fights or any signs of problems so Iwaizumi had nothing to worry about. Everything worked out perfectly, he was always busy with volleyball but since you were the manager for Aoba Johsai, you two still got to see each other and hang out normally. 

As long as you two didn’t hurt each other, he could see things working out in his favor. 

Of course, he would be speaking too soon. 

“ Hey, less staring and more serving,” You teased as you walked past him carrying a heavy cardboard box filled with some workout gear,” if you practiced as much as you stared at my ass, you would be number one in Japan.” 

Iwaizumi scanned the room quickly to make sure no one was looking and gave you a hard smack on your butt, causing you to yell back a stern, “Hajime!” 

He only chuckled as he grabbed a ball from one of the baskets and started to practice his serves. The Spring High Preliminaries were only a few weeks away but Iwaizumi already felt so confident in himself that they would have the chance to compete in Nationals.

He had never trained this hard before and he was in his element, not only was he serving harder than ever before,  he felt like everything else simply went away when he was playing. 

That’s why he didn’t notice you walking straight into his serve on the other side of the court. He shouted for your name but it was already too late. The ball collided right into your cheek and you cried out in pain as you fell over, sending the boxes straight to the ground. 

Iwaizumi just stood there for a second because no way did that actually just happen, he could’ve sworn it only happened in the movies but once he heard you crying out his name, his legs went on autopilot. 

Iwaizumi ran over to you and practically jumped over a first-year, thinking crapcrapcrapcrap as he slid against the floor and hovered over your body,” Y/N! Shit I am so sorry, can you hear me? Y/N are you okay?” 

You nodded but your face said otherwise as tears leaked out of your eyes. Your whole face was flushed red and there was a huge mark on the right side of your cheek where you got hit. Your whole body felt sore from hitting the ground but you still managed to hold up a thumbs up. 

“ Iwa-chan you could’ve killed her!” Oikawa exclaimed as he kneeled beside his friend,” luckily, your serves aren’t as deadly as mine, otherwise she would definitely be unconscious.” 

You and Iwaizumi both stopped panicking for a moment to glare back at Oikawa as he raised his hands defensively and backed away from the crime scene. 

“ It’s my fault, I should’ve paid attention to where I was walking,” You insisted as you tried to stand up but Iwaizumi stopped you from doing so,” I’m okay, really. It doesn’t hurt that bad.” 

“ I’m going to take you to the nurse, you could have a concussion,” Iwaizumi said as you waved him off. 

“ Hajime, I don’t need-”

“ Shut up and let me carry you,” Iwaizumi huffed before he scooped you up in his arms and carried you bridal style to the nurse,” god you’re so stubborn, you know that?” 

He knew you were pretty headstrong and most of the time, he let it slide but since it was a matter of your health, he just ignored you whining on about how you didn’t need to see the nurse. 

It was silent most of the way to the nurse as if you both had a feeling that there was a good possibility that you had a concussion but when the nurse actually confirmed it, Iwaizumi’s heart sank. 

No matter how much you tried to convince him that you felt fine, he knew it was 100% his fault and he felt even guiltier when the nurse told you that you should take a day off from school. 

“ Don’t worry, I’m gonna be right by your side all day tomorrow, okay?” Iwaizumi reassured you as he walked you back home,” I got all of your homework from your teachers but you don’t have to worry about it cause I’ll help you through it.”

“ Hajime, you still have school. You can’t miss it just because I have a concussion. Trust me, I’ll be fine without you.”

“ Please just let me take care of you. I already feel shitty as it is, let me look after you for my own sanity,” Iwaizumi sighed as you bit the inside of your cheek. 

His teammates always saw him to be serious most of the time and sometimes a bit too brash but when it came to you, he was so sensitive and even though you felt perfectly fine, you eventually caved in,” Okay, only because you’re begging me. Remember, you have to take care of me so that means you have to give me sooo much attention and you can’t complain.” 

“ I never complain,” Iwaizumi huffed as he pulled you in closer to his side. 

➣Kuroo

“ Please Tetsuro, just one quick game. It always looks so fun watching you guys play and it’s not like I’m terrible,” You pouted as your shoes squeaked against Nekoma’s gym floors,” I’ll let you take Kenma and I’ll even have Lev on my team if it makes it easier for you.” 

Kuroo wrapped his hands around your waist and hummed as if he was considering your offer. You were the manager for the boy’s volleyball team but you always pestered your boyfriend to let you play because he knew you got bored on the sidelines.  

“ Fine, only because you asked so nicely,” Kuroo smirked as he leaned down to plant a light kiss on your lips before calling some of the boys over. 

He took Kenma and Yaku while you had Lev and Teshiro and you each took your spots on opposite sides of the net. 

“ You know babe, I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re a girl,” Kuroo said with a wink as you rolled your eyes. 

“ I’d be offended if you did Captain,” You teased back as Lev took his spot to serve. 

For the most part, you could keep up with the boys and while Kuroo got some spikes past you, you managed to return the favor and send them flying his way. The score was tied at this point and you looked up at Kuroo through the net, who was resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. 

“You know you can stop going easy on me or wait, are you playing at your best?” You mocked playfully as you wiped some of the sweat off of your forehead with the back of your hand. 

Kuroo could only let out a hasty laugh; even though he wasn’t playing at 110%, he wasn’t holding back on anything and that’s why he was so exhausted. 

“ You’re gonna regret that babe,” Kuroo sighed as the next point went into play. 

You watched closely as Lev spiked the ball over but Yaku easily slid down to reach it, sending the ball up in the air for Kenma to set. 

Focus, just focus you thought as Kenma set the ball over to Kuroo. 

You waited and counted to three before jumping up and spread your fingers out. You were directly in his path and you both knew that there was no way around it. Kuroo took a steady breath and slammed the ball down as hard as he could, sending the ball straight into your nose. 

Kuroo saw it all happen in slow motion, once the ball hit you right in the face, the ball rolled over the net and onto his side but he didn’t care about the winning point. He watched helplessly as you grabbed your nose in pain and hit the floor with a loud thud. 

You groaned and held tight onto your nose, trying your best to not get any blood on the gym floor because you knew you would have to clean it up later. 

“ Motherfucker,” You cried out in pain as you started to feel tears stream down your face,” i-is it broken?” 

Kuroo kneeled beside you as Kenma quickly went over to the bench to grab a towel,” I- uh there’s a lot of blood can’t see but I don’t think so. Fuck, does it hurt baby?”

“ Of course it hurts! You pummeled me in the face,” You whined as Kuroo quickly grabbed the towel from Kenma’s hand and held it against your nose,” did I block it?” 

Kuroo’s mind was going all over the place, he was more worried about him hurting you than if you had won or not and it took you asking three more times before he heard you,” Yeah you blocked it with your face dummy, congrats you won. I’m gonna take you to the nurse okay?” 

“ Yes please,” You groaned sarcastically as Kuroo carried you in his arms and you let out a laugh,” I can walk perfectly fine thank you very much.” 

“ I know but I look more heroic like this,” Kuroo teased back to clear some of the tension,” but god, Y/N I’m sorry I almost killed you. I’ll make it up to you baby I promise. ” 

“ Don’t flatter yourself Tetsuro, the spike wasn’t that hard,” You said as you pointed to your nose” you better hope you didn’t break my face, this is my moneymaker right here.” 

Kuroo was thankful you weren’t angry at him but he still felt so guilty because you both knew it hurt way more than it looked,” You’re beautiful no matter what babe...but see? I told you I wouldn’t take it easy on you.”

[my-emotional-self]

Toxic Love Chapter 7

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing.  But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings:  18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy), mentions of suicide, flashbacks of suicide, nightmares

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story!  I apologize in advance!

8 Years Ago – Age 17

“Y/N, do you know why you are here?” the shrink asked from across the large desk.  You looked down at the typical uniform of a patient at a psychiatric ward.  Yes you knew why you were in here.  A few months ago you witnessed your father’s dead corpse hanging in your living room.  The next thing you knew you were writing a suicide note of your own and your foster parents found it before you could do anything.  Now, you were stuck in a psych ward, probably until you at least turned 18.

“Yep,” came your short response.  

The shrink glanced down at her papers in front of her, going through all of your notes.  “We want to help you as best we can Y/N.  You’ve been through some very traumatic experiences in your life and you’ve witnessed a great deal.  We are going to get you all the help you need.”

3 Months Later

“Have you heard of Borderline Personality Disorder Y/N?” your psychiatrist, Dr. Wang asked.  

That made your head snap in her direction.  Here you were, still stuck in the psych ward after three months and you weren’t sure why.  “I’ve heard of that, yes.  But I thought I was just depressed,” you mumbled, chewing on your fingernail.  

You were clinically diagnosed with depression shortly after coming here.  

“Well, that’s what we originally thought at first.  But the longer you’ve spent time here, the more I and the rest of the staff have discovered it is BPD.  You’re intense mood swings, combined with your ongoing feelings of emptiness and the intense bouts of anger you have are all signs of BPD. We are going to switch up your medications and that will really help with your mood swings and anger issues.

~~~

 No matter how hard you tried, sleep never came to you that afternoon.  You tossed and turned all afternoon in your bed and nothing seemed to be working.  Not only that, but you were really starting to get more irritable as the day went on and you knew it was time to change the dosing of your medication.  It was like clockwork, every year to year and a half. The only problem was that you couldn’t leave the tower without Steve, Bucky or an anyone else.  How were you supposed to get an appointment with your Psychiatrist if you couldn’t leave the tower alone?  This only increased your anger and frustration as you got out of bed to get ready.    

You brushed your teeth and put on a some jeans and a t-shirt, not really caring what you threw on. All of the specific clothing you wore for work was in the closet of your game room along with your makeup and accessories.  

Upon leaving your room, you saw Steve and Bucky sitting at the island in the kitchen of your shared apartment.  They both looked deep in thought over some paperwork and you assumed it was for work.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, you were about to head into the elevator as you didn’t want to disturb them, but Steve spoke up and caught your attention.  “Where are you off to?”

“Oh, umm, I’m heading down to my game room.  I’m going to work tonight,” you mumbled out as you pressed the button for the elevator. You noticed it was on the ground floor and it would take a few minutes to get to your level.  

“What time do you plan on being done?” Steve questioned.  

You huffed in annoyance, already irritated as anger began to creep through your bones.  “I don’t know.  Whenever I get done,” you snapped.  Immediately you felt regret, but sometimes your emotions got the better of you when you were in dire need of a medication change.  

“Hey, what’s with the attitude?” Steve commanded as he got up from his seat and stalked over to you, hands on his hips.  You noticed Bucky looking at you from his seat with furrowed brows.  They had never seen you angry like this.  You were always so compliant and easy going.  

“Look, I’m sorry.  I’m just tired is all.”

Steve looked at you sharply, his lips in a thin tight line.  “Alright.  Just make sure you get to bed at a reasonable time tonight.  Promise?”

“I promise,” you answered back.  

~~~

In the comfort of your game room, you quickly got to work.  Digging through your closet, you decided on a light pink tank top that said ‘Gamer Girl’ in black letters with two gamer controls on it.  Since your webcam only showed your top half, you threw on a black pair of cotton shorts to be comfortable.  

Next, you put your hair up in space buns, making sure they were situated just right so they wouldn’t be in the way of your headphones.  You put on your typical game night makeup: bright pink eyeshadow with dark smoked out liner, some mascara and blush and you were good to go.  

Turning on your monitor, you began to power everything up and once that was done, you logged in. Immediately your followers started putting in their messages off to the side and you smiled as you read them. You always tried to read as much of them as you could.  

As the night went on, you knew you should pack it up and listen to what Steve said; getting to bed at a descent time and getting rest.  But you were having way too much fun tonight and so were your followers. It was one of the best nights you’d had in months and not just money wise.  

Ignoring the clock you continued to play and interact with your followers with the microphone that was attached to your headphones.  Every so often you would glance to your messages box and see what some of them had said.  Most of them were cheering you on but of course you always had some haters in there as well.  

It was when you noticed the screen name of one of them that made your blood run cold.  JSmith20. ‘It can’t be’ you thought to yourself, trying to keep as composed as possible as hundreds of people were watching you game in this very moment.  

John’s last name is Smith and he always told you how his favorite number was 20, because that was how old you were when you met him.  No, but he’s still in prison.  He hasn’t gotten out.  He’ll be in there for many more years to come.  It had to be one of his friends right?  The same friend that had been delivering those letters to your old apartment.  ‘Yes, that’s right.  It’s just one of his friends trying to torment you’ you thought to yourself.  

Then, the person behind that screen name typed a message into your message box.  

Hey babe.  Do you miss me yet?  I can’t wait to see you – J

Yep, your composure went out the window reading the message.   Then another message from him popped up.  

I see you are no longer living in that little one bedroom apartment.  Did you really think you could up and move and I wouldn’t be able to find you?  Oh babe, how cute.  I will find you and we will meet again soon.  I promise – J

As you stared at the words on your screen, you heard groans from the other players on your team.  You had just lost the game.  

“Shit,” you swore, anger bubbling up inside of you.  “Fucking damnit!”  You slammed your fist on the desk.  

You rarely lost games. Losing always put you in a foul mood. But because of already being irritable and your emotions on over drive, losing just made everything worse.  

Looking at the clock it was just before five in the morning so you logged off and shut everything down.

You took your hair out of the buns, immediately feeling the tension in your head ease.  Ever so quietly, you opened the door and poked your head out into the hallway.  It was bitch black so you used your phone as a flashlight and tiptoed to the elevator. Before pressing the button on the elevator, you paused.  What if the noise of the elevator woke up Steve or Bucky?  You had promised Steve that you would get to bed at a descent time and seeing as it was just about five in the morning, well, you kind of figured you’d be in trouble.  

Instead, you opened the door to the stairs which was situated right next to the elevator.  At least taking the stairs would be much quieter.

You climbed the stairs up a few levels until you reached your living level and you waited on baited breath for a few moments.  Nothing. Nothing but silence.  As quiet as a mouse, you snuck through the door and dashed to your room, thanking your lucky stars that the palm scanner didn’t make any noise.  

You took a nice hot shower, washing off all of your makeup and the stress of the last few hours.  As much as you wanted to forget John messaging you, it wasn’t going to happen, neither was any sleep.  

Rather than even bothering to get into bed and try to relax, you sent an email to your psychiatrist letting her know that you would more than likely need a dose change on your medications.  Frantically typing away at the email, you explained how you were beginning to get irritated and it was harder for you to control your bouts of anger.  

Luckily for you, Dr. Wang was an early bird and she emailed you right back.  She wanted you to come see her for an appointment and your heart immediately dropped.  That wasn’t going to happen as one of your rules was that you weren’t allowed out of the tower by yourself.  And as much as you liked Darcy, you couldn’t trust her to go with you and not say anything to Steve or Bucky.  

Typing out your reply, you explained that you were unfortunately not able to meet in person and if there was anything else that could be done.  After you hit sent, you began to pace in your apartment, clearly on edge with everything going on.  You just wanted to feel better; you hated feeling this way.  It was as if you weren’t in control of your body and you definitely weren’t in control of your emotions.  

A notification came through your laptop and you rushed towards it, almost tripping over your feet. As you read her words, you could have cried right then and there.  She had agreed to a phone call appointment and she had time right now to discuss things with you.  

Grasping your phone, you dialed her number.

“It’s good to hear from you Y/N,” Dr. Wang stated as she answered the phone.  

“Oh Dr. Wang it is so good to hear your voice.”

She let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, it has been a little over six months since we’ve last spoken.  How are things going with you?”

“Where to begin,” you started off saying.  You let her know that you indeed met your soulmates and had moved in with them. You went over the rules that Steve had given you and she made you feel better as she stated she had seen way worse rules.  Hell, she said your rules were like a walk in the park compared to some she has heard.

“Alright, now, let’s get down to business.  How are you feeling these past few days?” she asked curiously.  

“Ugh, not good. Moving was stressful but I have been feeling really irritated over the last few and I’ve had a few bouts of anger rush through me that makes me want to punch something, but I’ve luckily been able to hold back on that.”

“What about any risky behaviors such as reckless driving, spending sprees, binge eating, drug abuse or sabotaging anything positive in your life?”

“Not yet,” you stated. You knew the routine.  She was going over all the symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder to see what has changed with you.  

“Ok good.  How about any intense fears of abandonment or rejection?”

That question always hit you like a punch to the gut.  The only reason you had stayed with John for so long was because of that right there. He purposely wouldn’t let you see Dr. Wang or he wouldn’t take you to get your medications refilled and because of that, you were starting to feel those feelings; not wanting to be abandoned no matter what.  

“Nope,” you replied.  

“Ok then.  I am going to increase the dosing on your current medications but I want to warn you.  Without you coming in and personally seeing me and without getting some blood work done, I don’t know how well this dosing is going to work, if it will work at all. We might need to discuss changing the medication all together,” she stated.  

“I understand Dr. Wang. And do you think maybe you could prescribe some sort of sleep medication for me too?”

“I can prescribe a one week trial of a sleeping medication for you.  After that, I really need you to try and come see me in the office and we can discuss that further.  Now, did you want me to send these prescriptions into your regular pharmacy?”

“Yes, that would be great. Thank you so much Dr. Wang.”

“No worries at all Y/N. Give the office a call and get an appointment set up.”

“I will.  Thanks again.”

Now that you had your medications all taken care of, you had to figure a way to leave the tower so you could get them.  

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

A Supernaturally Marvelous Fic Challenge

Calling all Supernatural and Marvel fanfic writers!

I don’t know about y’all, but writer’s block and lack of motivation have hit me harder than ever this year. It’s no secret that 2020 has been a giant crap show for a lot of people, but our precious fics and fandoms can be such a great escape from it all. In an attempt to spread some inspiration and feel good vibes, I wanted to make my follower celebration something that might help both writers and readers.

Below you’ll find all sorts of prompts (dialogue, songs, AUs, etc.) because you never know what might inspire you. Since we’ve all had a tough year, there’s a catch! You’ve got to give it a happy ending.

Make it fun. Make it sassy. Make it steamy. But for the love of ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY please wrap it up nicely with good things and a “fluffy” bow. Cool? Cool.

Now, on to the rest:

This is my follower celebration for both blogs, so please consider following @carryonmywaywardcaptain​, @carryoncaptainrogers​, or both!

As you may have guessed from the title, prompts can be written for Supernatural or Marvel (extra love and virtual hugs if you choose to write about Dean Winchester or Steve Rogers because they are the loves of my life. But there’s still plenty of love for the rest of the Avengers & TFW!)

Angst, smut, crack, and fluff are all welcome, but remember to give it a fluffy/positive ending and tag the warnings accordingly (Please steer clear of smut if you’re under 18. Stay young and innocent, babes.)

No limit to how many people sign up for each prompt. Feel free to combine prompts or even combine fandoms in a crossover! Whatever gets your creative juices flowing.

Send an ask with the prompt you want to do and the pairing you’re planning to write (life gets busy, so I’ll do a reminder post before the deadline if it’s helpful for you!). Reader inserts or OCs are both fine.

Tag me in the A/N and use the hashtag #supernaturally marvelous fic challenge by December 20th January 31st. If you’re garbage at deadlines like me, I’m super flexible and won’t hold it against you if you get it done later! I’ll reblog SPN fics on this blog and Marvel pairings over on @carryoncaptainrogers​ so your fics are seen by the fans who need them most :)

Got another idea you want to write and/or read about? Shoot me an ask and maybe I can add it to the mix! 

Make sure to check back once in a while in case more prompts are suggested and added! Without further ado (oof, this is long!):

Some song ideas:

“Boss’s Daughter”- Pop Evil

“Night Moves”- Bob Seger

“It’s Been a Long, Long Time”- Harry James

“I Won’t Say (I’m in Love)”- yes, from Hercules

“Hold You in My Arms”- Ray Lamontagne

“Better Man”- James Morrison

“Perfect for Me”- Justin Timberlake

“When We Were Young”- Adele

“Holding Out For a Hero”- Ella Mae Bowen’s version

“Come Around”- Papa Roach

“From Eden”- Hozier

“To the Man Who Let Her Go”- Tyler Shaw

“What If I Stay”- Chris Young

“Drift Off to Dream”- Travis Tritt

“Take Your Time”- Sam Hunt

“T-Shirt”- Thomas Rhett

“Not Strong Enough”- Apocalyptica, Brent Smith

“What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?”- Lee Ann Womack

“Right Where You Want Me” or “Better With You”- Jesse McCartney (because I love them both and just couldn’t choose lol)

Feel free to suggest songs from the shows/movies! I know the above are random. I tried to have some variety.

AUs, Tropes, etc.:

*gasp* And there was only one bed… (Bed sharing)

Confessing FEELINGS (or “everyone conspiring to make them confess their feelings already”)

Neighbors 

At a concert

Fake relationship for some event/case

Royal/Medieval

Soulmates

A/B/O

Friends/Enemies/Strangers to lovers

Comforting the other person

Dialogue prompts:

“I didn’t mean to turn you on.” “Well, it’s a little late for that!”

"Stop telling me you’re okay.”

“Can you please come and get me?”

“Sometimes you can be a real dumbass, you know that?”

“Because I care about you!”

“I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

“Who did this to you?”

“Well...what if I go with you?”

“Give me a chance to change your mind.”

“Plot twist!” “Screaming ‘plot twist’ doesn’t make this suck any less.”

“What did I say?” “You told me to stay out of trouble.” “And what did you do?” “The opposite of that, obviously.”

“You can do so much better than him. I wish there was some way I could make you believe that.”

“Not enough? You’re...everything.”

“Well this was fun... Let’s never do it again.”

“I need you to do something for me. You owe me a no-questions-asked.”

“Don’t look at me like that! You know what it does to me.”

“Wait! Just...take me instead.”

“You can’t keep it all inside, you know? Bottling it up won’t do any good.”

“I can’t stay away from you. I’m tired of trying.”

“Have you seen you? You’re like a damn dreamboat.”

Random things my kiddos at school have said:

“Hey Mrs. America! Mrs. Captain America.”

“You know what your problem is? DAT attitude.”

“How did it taste?” “Like disappointment.”

“Do we got a fucking problem?”

“When am I not wearing my sassy pants?”

“Words are hard.”

“I’ve been screaming internally my entire life.”

“Can I jump over the fence?” “No, but thank you for asking.”

“That’s not very cash money of you.” “...I don’t know what that means.” “That’s okay. I just felt like saying it.”

“What do you call a blind dinosaur?” “Dead.” [P.S. the answer is Do-you-think-he-saw-rus]

Shenanigan ideas:

Karaoke night at a bar

Thanksgiving dinner

Christmas lights

Slow dancing

Prank War

Ice skating

Mistletoe

Ugly sweater party

Gift exchange

Creating/sharing holiday traditions

Please reblog or tag your favs who might be looking for a little extra inspiration!

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

@abswritesfandoms​  @amanda-teaches​  @cosicas-cuquis​  @crist1216​  @droidyouseek​  @emoryhemsworth​  @ericaprice2008​  @flawless-disaster​  @janeyboo​  @jenn0755​  @ksgeekgirl​  @maresmiley​  @memyselfandmaddox​  @notyourtypicalrose​  @randomparanoid​  @rynabarnesrogers​  @sandlee44​  @scarletsoldierrr​  @shann-the-artist-moon​  @sheerioasteroidpanda​  @shynara51​  @someday-when-you-leave-me​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​  @thisismysecrethappyplace​  @torntaltos​  @waywardbaby​  @waywardrose13​  @weebid​  @whimsicalrobots​  @wintersoldierbaby​  @wintersoldierissucharide  @yesfanficsaremylife​

Cap’s Marvel Crew:

@amoonagedaydreamer​  @bangtan-serendipity​ @bubbabarnes @lilacs-with-lavender​  @msgreenverse​  @nomadstevergxrs​  @palaiasaurus64​  @scarlettsoldier​  @selina-kyle89​  @smokeandnailz​  @troublermalik​  @twittytelly​  @valkirsif​

Cap’s SPN Crew:

@adoptdontshoppets​  @akshi8278​  @alexwinchester23​  @bi-danvers0​  @deangirl7695​  @dean-winchesters-bacon​  @fandomoniumflurry​  @pisces-cutie​  @supernaturalenchanted​  @superromijn​  @waywardnerd67​  @x-waywardaf-x​ 

Other amazing writers came to mind in case you’re interested in participating, feeling inspired to bless us with more of your beautiful work, or wouldn’t mind reblogging/tagging other writers (Please forgive me for spamming you!):

@luci-in-trenchcoats​ @supernatural-jackles​ @evansrogerskitten​ @cajunquandary​​ @after-avenging-hours​ @fvckingavengers​ @mywritingsblog​ @bitsandbobsandstuff​ @prettyyoungtragedy​ @kittenofdoomage​​ @angelkurenai​​ @impala-dreamer​ @redgillan​ @gaybybirth​ @invisibleanonymousmonsters​ @221bshrlocked​ @sgtjbuccky​ @captainrogerss​ @katymacsupernatural​ @buckyofthemyscira​ @captain-rogers-beard-mainblog​ @dancingalone21​ @atc74​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @hannahindie​ @kdfrqqg​ @sis-tafics​ @idreamofplaid​ @deanssweetheart23​ @because-imma-lady-assface​ @covered-byroses​ @captain-kelli​ @heli0s-writes​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @roonyxx​ @jay-and-dean​ @ladywinchester1967​ @spnfanficpond​

[terra-sprout-imagines]

How Daichi and  Suga would make up a missed date to their S/O because of Volleyball Part 1

Written By: Terra

Request: How would Suga, Daichi, Tanaka and Noya make it up to their S/O after having to miss a date for volleyball related thing???

Author’s Note: These headcanons, along with the last ones, make me look like more of a Daichi simp than I actually am lol. Originally this was all going to be one post, but since Daichi’s are so long I decided to make it two and two so you’re not scrolling for thirty years to get to the end. Enjoy!

Warnings: None but Daichi’s takes place in part 1 of season 4 and Suga’s takes place in season 2 c:

Part 2: Tanaka and Nishinoya (coming soon!)

Sawamura Daichi

Like I said in the headcanons where their S/O surprises them at a game, I genuinely think Daichi is one of the most mature boyfriends out of the Karasuno team

And as a result, you would have to be pretty mature as well because I just don’t really see him as the type of guy to get into a relationship with someone that he kind of has to “parent” for lack of a better term

Anyway, that’s not to say that he wouldn’t feel bad about having to miss a date because of volleyball, but he definitely wouldn’t throw himself into a panic about it and go super over the top trying to make it up to you.

So the date in question for this scenario, was just a simple dinner date at one of your favorite restaurants

Daichi had been super busy as of late after Karasuno had won the Inter-High Preliminaries with preparation for Spring Nationals

Of course you didn’t complain once about it

You knew how badly Daichi had always wanted to go to Nationals, and now that they finally realized that dream you had been nothing but completely supportive

Though Daichi made sure to try and support you and your hobbies as much as his schedule would allow, so things never felt one-sided for you and you appreciated the effort he put in

Didn’t have time to go out on as many dates as you used to? No problem, you’d just come to their practice and assist Kiyoko and Yachi where you could so you could still see your boyfriend

Tonight was supposed to be a day where practice would end early enough that you and Daichi could justify getting a late dinner in town

A night where the two of you could finally have some time together away from volleyball and the team

Not that you had anything against them, but you both just wanted to be able to do mushy couple things without Suga and the second years making kissy faces and wiggling their eyebrows.

But as the minutes passed and you still sat alone at the table, your dreams of spending a night together with Daichi seemed to slip further and further away.

You jumped as you felt your phone vibrate against the table, your heart rate speeding up a little as you read Daichi’s contact appear across the screen

Though you were quick to feel the slightest twinge of disappointment as you read the message

‘I’m sorry love, but I don’t think I’m going to make it to dinner in time. Coach Ukai had us try a new technique for Nationals and it took the team longer than anticipated to get it down. We only just finished and we still have to clean the gym and get changed.’

You typed out a quick reply and set your phone down with a small sigh.

The restaurant was starting to wind down for the night, and you knew it wouldn’t be too much longer before you would have to leave since they would need to close up for the night.

Even though Daichi couldn’t be there for dinner, that didn’t mean the night had to go completely out the window.

You flagged your waiter down and placed an order to go, knowing Daichi well enough by now that you were comfortable with ordering in his place.

You paid for the bill as you waited for your food to arrive, and then made your way home, pulling out your phone to send another message to your boyfriend

‘After you get home and get showered, come to my place. Just because we couldn’t do dinner doesn’t mean we can’t still at least see each other. I know my mom won’t mind if you spend the night.’

Just as you reached your front door, your phone vibrated again with a reply

‘I actually had a similar idea. If you’re okay with it, would you mind coming to my place instead in about half an hour? I have to get a few things ready.’

You replied with a quick ‘of course ♥️’ and got to work packing an overnight bag, letting your mom know about your change of plans.

Your parents adored Daichi, and trusted the two of you, so getting permission to spend the night was hardly ever an issue.

Before you left, you grabbed the takeout from the fridge and started the five-minute walk to your boyfriend’s place.

When he opened the door, he was quick to pull you into a hug, placing a tender kiss first on your forehead and then your lips.

“I’m sorry about tonight.” You could feel his lips move against yours as he spoke

“Don’t be. You can’t help it if practice runs longer than anticipated. Besides,” You held up the bag of takeout with a smile, “I still brought dinner for us.”

You saw his eyes widen a fraction before he burst out into laughter.

At your confused expression, he pulled you inside.

He had completely transformed the living room of his house. Strings of lights were hung up around the walls, a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor in front of the television where the menu of your favorite movie played across the screen. On the table in front of all of that, Daichi had set up a meal for the two of you, and your lips cracked into a smile when you saw that the dishes were exactly the same as what you carried in your bag

“I called my mom and asked her to pick it up for me on my way back from practice.” His hand was rubbing the back of his neck and his cheeks were adorned with a red flush. “I guess we had the same thought.”

You broke out into a smile and turned to face your boyfriend, your eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy.

You really loved this man. You pressed a kiss to his lips, murmuring an “I love you” as you went to place the takeout you brought into the fridge.

“It’ll be lunch for tomorrow” You told him as he looked back at you.

He simply nodded and the two of you settled in the nest of blankets in the living room as Daichi hit the play button for the movie.

You were curled up into his side as the two of you ate.

Of course, that made it harder for Daichi, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Even less so when you started feeding him bites of his food as compensation for hogging one of his arms to yourself.

Later that night when the two of you settled into bed, he pressed a kiss to your temple as he pulled you in close.

“I’m sorry we had to change our date plans because of practice again.”

You brought one of your hands up to cup his face. “Daichi, it’s okay. I knew things like this would happen sometimes when we got together. You still go out of your way to make time for me, so a few missed dates are just water under the bridge.”

You let out a small yawn and placed your head on his chest. “Besides, dinner and a movie with you at home was a way better date than just eating out somewhere. I wouldn’t care if you missed a hundred more dates if it meant we got to do something like that instead.”

You felt his chest shake beneath your head as he chuckled. “I’d never intentionally skip out on spending time with you, but I’ll make sure to keep this date in mind for next time.”

Sugawara Koushi

He would feel pretty horrible about it.

Like he wouldn’t be over the top dramatic about it, but I do think he would have a lot of guilt over it and definitely be extra clingy for at least a week afterwards.

Like Daichi, I feel like Suga would understand that missing dates would probably be a thing because of him playing volleyball

And he would make sure that whoever he got into a relationship with understood that as well and would be able to be mature about it.

Despite that though, I still think Suga would bend over backwards to try and prevent volleyball from making him miss dates with you as much as possible

But when inevitably it happens, he would still feel bad about it, even though you say you’re not upset

Be prepared for a very soft and apologetic Suga as a result

Even though I said Suga wouldn’t be super dramatic about missing a date, he probably kind of was the first time he had to miss one

But after you were able to reaffirm that things were okay, he’d feel a lot more secure in your relationship and so he wouldn’t be as bad the next time it happens

The date in question for this instance, was supposed to be a surprise.

All Suga had told you, was that he would pick you up after he got home and showered after practice, and that you should expect to be out late so to dress comfortably

So, as the usual time for practice to end rolled around, you had gotten yourself ready

You didn’t know if Suga had planned for you to go out anywhere special, so you made sure that you looked nice enough if that was the case, but were still comfortable enough that your outfit wouldn’t be bugging you as the hours passed by

You ended up seated near your front door, scrolling through your phone as you waited for a call or text from your boyfriend.

Twenty minutes passed, then forty, an hour, two hours…

By the first hour with no message, you already had a pretty good idea that practice had gone on longer than usual, no big deal.

So by the second hour mark you had already changed into pajamas and set yourself up on your bed to scroll through social media, also no big deal.

You knew that the team all had to leave their phones and other belongings in the club room while they practiced, so Suga had no way of contacting you while the coach still had them busy in the gym.

He would call as soon as he had access to his phone, of that you had absolutely no doubt.

You still felt a slight twinge of disappointment that your date had been effectively cancelled, because who wouldn’t want to spend time with their significant other?

But you knew that volleyball was important to him, and you knew the effort Suga put in to making sure that you didn’t feel neglected as a result of his sport

So you just made yourself comfortable in your bed, and waited for Suga to get out of practice.

You had also sent a text to your parents, preemptively asking if he could spend the night, you knew he would want to spend as much time at your side as he could for the next few days.

Of course, your parents had no issues with him doing so. Suga had quickly managed to win both of your parents over when you first brought him over for dinner, and often the two of you would spend nights together at each other’s houses.

Your parents practically considered him their son in law already.

Several hours after the normal time for practice to end, you looked up from your laptop as you heard the repeated buzzing sound of your phone on your nightstand

You felt a small smile cross your features as you saw Suga’s contact light up across your display.

You hit the answer button and brought the phone to your ear. Before you could even say a word, Suga was already speaking.

“I’m so sorry about tonight, honey. The coach wanted to try out some new formations for the preliminaries, so he had us playing practice matches against each other.” He sounded out of breath, and you think you could hear his feet hitting the pavement in the background like he was running.

“It’s okay Koushi, you can’t help it if practice runs late. The preliminaries are just a few weeks away, right? I don’t blame your coach for wanting to make sure you guys have everything you need to make it to Nationals.”

There was a slight pause before he replied. “I really don’t deserve you, you know. I love you so much.”

“Of course you deserve me, don’t be silly. I love you too.” You took a moment to make sure you shut your laptop off before you put it off to the side. “I assume you’ll be on your way here soon?”

Suga let out a breathless laugh, “Actually, I’m already outside your door.”

“What?” You quickly sat up and made your way to your front door, you eyes widening when you saw Suga on the other side.

He was holding a small bouquet of roses and a bag of what looked to be your favorite snacks. His chest rose and fell with panted breath and his eyes were apologetic as he held out the bouquet for you to take. “Surprise?”

You let him pull you into a hug and a kiss, but you wrinkled your nose after a moment, pulling away from him. “Koushi, did you run all the way here from practice?”

“Mhm. I only stopped to pick these up for you.” He gestured to the flowers and snacks that he had brought with him.

“Koushi, you know I love you, and you really didn’t have to get me these things, but I appreciate them nonetheless. And I’m saying this next part because I love you so much, but please go take a shower before you kiss me again.”

He gave you an exaggerated pout “But I want to show you my love.”

You shook your head, a smirk on your lips, “I’m sorry but when I kiss you, I don’t want to also be kissing your ten layers of sweat. I’ll still be here when you’re done and then you can kiss and cuddle me all you want.”

He chuckled, “Mm, I’ll hold you to that then.” He placed a quick kiss to your forehead before heading into the hallway towards your bathroom.

The rest of the night was spent watching movies in your room on your bed, Suga lying behind you as the big spoon.

His right arm was wrapped around your waist, fingers tracing light patterns against your stomach while his left arm was underneath your head.

His head rested against your own, occasionally pressing light kisses to your head, neck, or shoulder.

A content smile made itself at home on your face as you brought your arm down to interlace your fingers with his.

The two of you fell asleep that way, and Suga spent all of the following day doting on you.

The next night, he drove you out to an outlook spot in the mountains for a picnic and some stargazing after the sun had set.

His cheeks were tinged red as he brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“I wanted to do take you here last night but…”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, cupping the side of his face. You gave him a playful wink, “This was more than worth the wait.”

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK]

NOTES: Wow, that was quite a response to just reposting the prologue! Hopefully you all enjoy the rest of this fic as much as you've been anticipating it; I know it's been a lot of buildup to it, unintentionally I promise you. Here you go, better late than... well, you get it.

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

The next morning had been a hard one for Anna. School just felt strained and weird without knowing for sure where her mother was. Punz helped her through it, and she managed to do most of her classwork, but her mind kept wandering off.

Tomorrow was the earliest they could report her missing to the police. Of course, she had a feeling that it wouldn't matter one way or the other, but it was the strongest hope that she and her father had. Knowing what they knew about time travel, they had refrained from calling John or Wendy for the time being; she might come back.

She had to come back.

So when she walked into the living room after school and saw her mother sitting on the couch, looking quite weary but whole, safe, normal, she ran into her arms. It didn't even occur to her to ask about her father, or what she was doing there, or anything else. Need overrode curiosity.

"MOM! Oh my god… oh Mom, you completely freaked me out, I didn't know what happened!"

Elsa wrapped her arms around Anna, hugging back just as a tight as a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh spilled from her lips. "My angel… I'm so sorry for worrying you like that. Really."

Anna felt her eyes well with tears. She had been unwilling to truly face the idea that Elsa was truly gone, but seeing her here threw into sharp relief just how much she had been terrified. Her arms grew tired as she held on, but there was nothing that could make her let go. Not at this moment. Even the mere thought had her arms tightening their hold, squeezing just a little harder.

"Please don't leave again," she said softly. "Not- not without telling me first. Dad- Dad came home last night and we were gonna go to the cops and-"

"Shh…." Elsa hushed her, inhaling deeply. "I promise I'll never do that again without telling you. I'm so sorry, Anna."

Tearfully, Anna drew her head back, just enough so she could look in Elsa's eyes. "Where did you go? Did I… did I do something?"

Oh God. Elsa could see the forty-something version of her daughter, asking that same exact question. "No, no, baby. No you didn't do anything."

"But you just left me…" Anna's words, cracked and small, were also so heartfelt. So sincere in their pain that it made Elsa want to cry, too. How could she even have thought of giving this up? Of leaving the person who, truthfully, had become her entire world?

"I waited until the day your father would come home. That way, you wouldn't be without someone to… look out for your well-being, no matter what came to pass."

Clearing her throat and sniffling, Anna pulled back and gazed at her mother. "What… came to… Mom, what happened? Where did you go?"

"I was figuring some things out. Took a few weeks. And I've come to some decisions." She took a deep breath, then let it out very slowly before she took both of Anna's hands. "I'm not leaving you."

"Okay. I'm… b-but you made it sound like you… wanted to?"

"Not 'wanted'. But I thought it might be best." She released her hands. "However, there are going to have to be a few changes around here."

Still incredibly relieved at not losing her mother, Anna slumped downward. Then she said, "Okay, okay. You want me to stop hitting on you? Is that pretty much it?"

Elsa nodded slightly. "For now. I'm… willing to revisit that at a later date, but you have to promise me something. From now until you are in college, this stops. We have to learn to keep our hands to ourselves. It's going to be difficult, I know; we've already proven that it will be. But that's very important to me. You might technically be of age, but… you're my child, and you live in my house. There's no pretending that won't affect which of us has the power in a… in… well, in a romantic relationship."

"O-oh." Anna wasn't sure what to say. This sounded like bad news, but it also sounded like there was some good news attached. "But… what about when I'm in college?"

Only now did Elsa smile slightly. "Depends. I want you to really take this time to think hard about you and I. We both will. And we'll try our best to be a normal family. I'm never, ever going to stop loving you!" Her smile faltered slightly, and she looked away with red cheeks. "And if, once you're out on your own, not… being 'parented' by me, you still want to be something more than mother and daughter… we can try that. I know it's a long time-"

"Oh, Mom," she breathed, crushing her with her arms again, sore as they still were. "God! Of course, I… oh I'm sorry, I'm so dumb, I kept trying to… I d-don't know, I'm stupid, I'm so stupid!"

"Shhhhhh." It was soothing and sweet, and she kissed the crown of her head. Anna hummed a little through her tears, glad for the gentle gesture. "It's okay. Everything's okay, Anna; you're going to be just fine."

"B-but what if we try it, and I hurt you somehow? Make you sad th-that your daughter is… disgusting?"

"Don't ever think that. Even if I've been a little disgusted by your desires, by my own, that does not mean I think you are 'bad' or… or anything! And it never did. Do you hear me, sweetie? You'll always be my sweet Anna, whether or not I can handle you being my Tori at the same time. Always."

With renewed vigour, Anna hugged her mother so aggressively. Elsa returned the expression – and, where once she would have hesitated, now there was no sign of that reluctance. It was just what Anna needed.

"I should�� really call Punz," she said finally. "Let her know what happened."

Elsa's lips quirked. "I should probably ring your father," she said. Still, neither of them moved. If anything, Anna seemed unable to stop herself pressing closer.

"What if… what if I can't?" she whispered. Even in that low tone, it was obvious she was scared – terrified – of something. "You want me to stop until college, but what if I can't? Or, if I slip up? Mom, I can't lose you just because my balls get ahead of my brain sometimes."

Squeezing tight for a second, Elsa chuckled and closed her eyes. "Accidents happen…" she began. It wasn't good enough.

"No! How can we trust that it would even be an accident when I want you so bad? It hurts, Mom!" Anna sniffled. "It hurts to have you so close sometimes when I want so much more but you… don't…"

"Anna, listen to me." Elsa had Anna's face clasped in her hands, giving her the ability to look directly into her eyes. "You have no idea how much I want you. But right now is the wrong moment. For you, for me… and sweetheart, you need to think of Punz, too. That girl adores you. And-" Elsa lowered her voice, though she smiled now, too. "I would love to be her mother one day, too. Well, mother-in-law."

"That still doesn't solve this problem," Anna said. Her words were monotone, but she felt herself blushing at Elsa's suggestion. It was easier to deflect than it was to think on the future and whether or not Punz would be part of hers.

"You're right. But I guess what I've realised is… this problem is not worth me leaving you behind. I want to work on it together. And if we slip up again, we will deal with it like adults. We aren't animals who have no willpower."

"Are you sure?" she asked with a weak laugh. "You came pretty close that morning."

At that, Elsa leaned in and whispered, "I really did. I was very close." The double meaning made Anna's cheeks grow yet rosier. "But I'm serious; I won't try that while I'm 'in charge' of you. That's not right. Even if we try to treat each other equally, we can't be equals until you're out on your own. And I'm not going to let you drop out of school or anything like that, before you ask," she warned.

"Damn, you caught me," Anna hissed, and Elsa chuckled. "Still Mom with your freakin' parenting chess moves, ten steps ahead. Man… that's so long, though."

"Is it? I know it seems that way to you, because you're young."

Sighing, Anna admitted, "Maybe not. And you're right, like… the past couple of weeks have been great! Not just the parts where we flirted, but everything. All three of us hanging out together was nice, too."

"See? We can make that work. And as I said, if I know you're making advances on purpose, then I will have to leave until you've graduated. Just for my own sanity, and to make sure I don't hurt you – and then I'll come back. But a few slip-ups here and there can be forgiven, Anna."

Anna's hand stroked up and down Elsa's side for a moment. Again, she didn't flinch away, but she started to look a little less comfortable, so Anna stopped. "Okay. I… don't really get the whole 'I can't be in charge while we're dating' thing, because like, you parenting me is totally separate. But I do trust you, Mom. So… so I can try it."

"Not as separate as it should be. But thank you, Anna," Elsa said honestly. She was smiling, too, so that was a good sign. "Now I really must contact your father." She got up and was halfway to the kitchen before Anna spoke.

"Hey, Mom?" she asked. Elsa turned.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

Suddenly, Anna felt very gun-shy and guilty. Like she was going to ask her mother for a treat after her father had already said no. "Can I ask a favour?"

"Of course!" Elsa turned more fully towards her daughter, and Anna felt her mouth grow dry. Just for a second, but it was more than enough, really.

Swallowing hard around a lump in her throat, Anna looked away. "Can I… have a kiss?"

Her mother answered with a sigh, but it was more weary than truly upset. "That would seem to defeat the purpose of giving us this dry period, wouldn't it? Unless you just mean a cheek-kiss."

"I didn't," she admitted readily. "Um… and I do kinda get what you mean? Cooling off to make sure this is what we really want, cause we can't put the toothpaste back in the tube. But like, I already did that. The past couple weeks were me trying not to feel things for you, and it didn't work. But if you want to try for longer…"

"I think, if a few more months go by and you still want me the way you did a couple of days ago, then it will prove that we're really intended to be that for each other. And if the feelings fade for you, then won't it be better that we never went too far? That we never… crossed the line that cannot be uncrossed?"

Anna was having trouble wrapping her mind around what Elsa was trying to get through to her. What would be the difference at this point? She already let her go down on her once before, even if it was her younger self and not this mother standing in front of her now. But she supposed there was probably some wisdom in this plan that she simply hadn't considered.

"Just tonight," Anna whispered very quietly. "Like, to get it out of my system. Then tomorrow, we can go back to 'Mom' and 'daughter' and all that, and… see where we end up when I go to college. And I know, I sound like an ungrateful brat, and it's demanding, a-and… I'm sorry. But I think it'll drive me nuts if I never get to touch you from now until I'm out of the house!"

"It's not a good idea, Anna." But she relented. "Fine. But you have to make all the moves. I already basically attacked you in 1985, and now that I really am your mother…"

That part, Anna could understand. Especially after she explained the whole 'being in charge' aspect; if she was worried about wielding power over Anna, she would give it all to her. Smiling, Anna placed her hands on Elsa's waist. "Just a kiss. Maybe it won't even feel right and we won't have to worry about anything more."

Both seemed to realise at the same moment how silly a thought that was. Anna could feel it already, that pull. Her mouth was no longer than dry – no, she was almost salivating at the thought of doing this again. Her cheeks warmed and her heart picked up, trotting in her chest as she took a step closer.

"Just a kiss," Elsa echoed, though her voice had suddenly lost its power.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Anna leaned forward. Elsa wasn't much taller than her – wasn't much taller than she had been in '85 – but still Anna missed. Her lips found Elsa's chin, and Elsa let out a snort of what could have been laughter.

Anna didn't correct herself upward, however. Contrarily, she moved away from Elsa's lips, grazing hers down to lave at her mother's throat.

"Anna…" Elsa tried. It was meant to be a warning, but instead it came out hoarse and throaty. A small noise slipped from Anna as she wrapped her hands more solidly around Elsa's waist. It was more of a hug now, and it had the side effect – intended or not – of bringing them even closer together.

Eyes sliding shut, Anna merely enjoyed the taste of her mother's skin. She felt gentle fingers tangling in her hair, and was prepared for when Elsa tugged her away. Even if it was a gentle distancing.

"This isn't quite what we agreed to," she sighed nervously. But she could see her mother was uncertain. Guilty. There had to be a way she could remove that guilt. What would make this woman she adored more comfortable with her how much she adored her?

"Elsa… you can call me 'Tori' tonight if you want," she murmured. "If that makes it easier. I could even dress up in 80s clothes or something? Like… since the whole problem is me being your daughter, I could be her instead."

At that, Elsa let out a soft laugh. "I didn't know we were doing an all-night affair. But… well…"

"Well?" Anna asked after a few seconds passed and her mother didn't finish the thought.

"I did ask Kristoff to get a hotel room. Give us space enough to figure things out." Anna drew back to see Elsa looking ashamed, but also smiling very slightly. "Not that this was what I had in mind. Just wanted to be prepared for any… eventuality."

For a few seconds, Anna had to suppress the tingles burbling up through her body. From very specific places. Elsa had planned for them to sleep together. Not as an intention, but a precaution – though that was still more than she had hoped lips pushed into Elsa's neck again, hearing a sigh. Then she whispered, "What if I just keep kissing? All over?"

"An- Tori," she corrected, and Anna smiled against her neck.

"You don't have to do anything back. I'm good. But… I want to try this out. See how far I can get before you need me to stop. Or before I need to stop."

"Let's just stick to kissing above the waist." When Anna pulled back to grin at her, head starting to duck downward, she hastily added, "Above the shoulders! Jesus Christ, how did I raise such an opportunist?"

"You didn't; the other Anna probably wasn't as bad as me. And she also wasn't as hot for you as me…" Knowing she was pushing her luck, she leaned up to whisper into Elsa's ear, "And I'm pretty hot for you right now."

Elsa let out a sharp breath that was probably covering something else. "Anna…" she tried one last time. This one felt breathier and needier than before, and Anna could feel the warmth pooling just below her navel.

"I just want you," Anna said softly. "To touch you… in whatever way you let me." Her hips rolled very slightly against Elsa's – not enough for any real friction, but certainly enough to give truth to her words. Elsa gave out another shuddering breath. "But for now, a kiss will do…"

And she did just that, sealing their lips together once more. Elsa sank down into it as if it were a warm bath, perhaps grateful that she no longer had to speak. It didn't really matter.

Slowly, Anna began to back away, leading them back to the couch. It seemed safer than heading for one of the bedrooms. It took Elsa a moment to realise what she was doing, but when she finally caught on she wasted no time in guiding Anna. Despite what she had said, she seemed to be a little less willing to stop now.

But finally they were seated, a strange parody of that moment in Doc's car. Anna had little doubt that she wanted to try paying her mother back for what she had done there, either. Hopefully Elsa felt the same.

Anna slipped her tongue between Elsa's lips, and she only groaned and accepted it with her own, leaning back until she was lying on the couch with Anna over her. Her arms never tightened around Anna, and she never gripped her shoulders; only laid her hands gently on her biceps. Seemed she was deadly serious about not making any 'moves', after all.

When they broke apart again, Anna's hips still grinding, Elsa warned her breathlessly, "This is… more than a kiss."

"Yeah. But hey… tonight is our night, huh? Like, the last one to be Tori and Elsa."

"It is. Even though we aren't going as far as you think we're going," she told her, resolve returning as she pointed a finger up at her.

"Right, I get it. So…" Biting her lip, she got up from the couch, leaving Elsa briefly confused. "Let's do it. Let's dress up."

What an adorable blush crept into the middle-aged woman's features. "Oh, you… were serious about that?"

Dancing backward a little, she said, "Remember that outfit I made you buy? The one that you said you wouldn't wear out of the house, short-shorts and crop top? You can put that on, and I'll find some stuff in my closet that makes me look really… different. Really Tori for you. And I'll change my hair, and wear the shoes from the dance!"

"Oooh," Elsa sighed at the mention of the shoes. Apparently, that was such a strong tie to the memory of going down on Anna that it instantly heated her up. Then she cleared her throat. "Well… I suppose it wouldn't hurt to simply look the parts. Might help create necessary boundaries."

She knew what her mother really meant; it would help assuage her guilt if they were recreating the past, instead of forging a new, sinful future. Clapping her hands, she started to head for the hallway. "You just wait! This is gonna be amazing!"

"I hope you're right," Elsa chuckled as she started to follow her. They were both going the same way, after all. "But I just wanted to reiterate..."

Hesitation. So she prompted, "What?"

"No matter what happens… I'm always going to love you. That was never in danger at any point, Anna."

"I know. Don't worry, we got this. Promise-promise."

"Now, that sounds familiar..."

Anna had no way of knowing what Elsa meant; she hadn't said it yet, after all. But she was all smiles as she retreated to her room with glee, only sparing Elsa one last glance over her shoulder to see her mother was standing in the doorway to her own room with a bemused smile on her blushing features.

Still so beautiful.

                                         To Be Continued…

[steves-on-a-plane]

Champagne Problems

SONG FIC: Champagne Problems, Taylor Swift Words: 1490 (1347 w/o lyrics) Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader Warnings: mild swearing, themes of heartbreak Summary: Reader has been feeling anxious all week. When She realizes it's because she's no longer in love with her live-in boyfriend, Tony Stark, things get a little complicated. When Tony decides to propose in front of all their friends, it becomes the worst case scenario.

It had been a long time since you’d been on the subway alone. Months, maybe, if not years. But that night you were leaving the life of fast cars and private jets behind you. You adjusted the bag in your lap is if that would sooth the ache in your chest and the pounding in your head. As the train began to pull out of the station you were already starting to wonder if you’d made a mistake.

“You booked the night train for a reason. So you could sit there in this hurt. Bustling crowds or silent sleepers. You’re not sure which is worse.”

About a week ago, you’d woken up with this gnawing feeling. A raw kind of hurt that you couldn’t push down no matter how hard you tried. You didn’t know what had brought it on, all you knew was that something had changed.

“Good morning, Beautiful.” Tony said as he kissed you on the cheek. You wondered if he felt you recoil from his touch. A quick glance up from your breakfast told you he hadn’t. “So, I’ve been thinking,” He continued as if everything were normal. You supposed for him it was. “Warm weather’s coming. I think we’re due for a party.”

“Whatever you want, Tony.” You nodded, trying to sound enthusiastic. There must have been a crack in your façade. His expression turned to a pout. His brows furrowed together above his puppy-dog-like warm brown eyes.

“What’s wrong, my Love?” Tony crossed the room back over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder, waiting for an answer.

“Nothing. You lied. You fumbled for a reasonable explanation. “Didn’t get enough sleep.” You patted his cheek affectionately. “Party sounds great, Tony.”

“Okay, if, you’re sure.” He kissed you again before releasing you. “You’ll let me know if it’s too much? I know you have a lot going on a work and I’ve been gone a lot.”

“It’s fine.” You tried to sound convincing. “A party will be great. What theme are you thinking?”

“That’s my [Y/N]! Everyone knows the best parties gotta have a theme.” Tony began talking excitedly about his ideas for the party. Your moment of hesitation all but forgotten in his mind.

“Your mom’s ring in your pocket. My picture in your wallet. Your heart was glass, I dropped it. Champagne problems.”

You went through all the usual movements of planning a party. You booked Tony’s favorite caterers and helped him narrow down his wide net of themes. (He eventually settled on Night Time in New York) You made sure the invitations were sent out and RSVPs were received. You were ready for the whole thing to be over by the night of the actual event.

“All your friends will be here.” You told yourself as you got ready. “They’re not really your friends, are they? They’re his.” A darker part of your mind added. It had been like this all week. You’d try to pull yourself out of whatever it was that was happening with you and then your mind would chime in with some unspoken anxiety or fear. Things you knew you couldn’t say to Tony because he wouldn’t understand.

Tony Stark was not the type of person to feel like he didn’t belong somewhere. Tony was not the type of person to ever feel even the slightest hint uncomfortable from what you’d seen the past three years. He lived in a bubble and anything outside of that bubble, couldn’t possibly be the true version of events. After all, he was a genius. As he so often liked to remind everyone.

You finished getting ready, wondering if the deep blue cocktail dress decked out in golden glitter was too much. At the time you bought the dress, you though it would be a nice way to represent the always shining lights of New York City. Now all you could think was how hard it was going to be to hide in the crowd with a dress that practically glowed. You’d run out of time to change anyway. Guests would be arriving soon.

Putting on a weak smile, you stepped out of the room to join Tony. What you didn’t know until that moment was that Tony had arranged for all of your guest to arrive early. He’d had plans of his own, as always. He was smiling from ear to ear when you approached him.

“There you are, Sweetheart!” He greeted you with a kiss on each cheek.

“Tony what’s going on?” You asked, your eyes anxiously scanning the crowd. A hush had already begun to make its way through the room. You could feel the dozens of eyes on you.

“It’s a surprise, for you…us.” He explained. “Before we really get things started there’s something I want to talk to you about.” You watched Tony reach for something in his pocket. All at once a realization had hit you. You now understood Tony’s reason for throwing a party was much more than just because he wanted to celebrate warmer weather.

“Tony wait.” You reached forward trying to stop him from revealing the object to the rest of the crowd. You wished he’d talked to you about this first, but as you reached forward, Tony jerked back. He fumbled and dropped the object in his hand. Even from across the room someone could identify the Tiffany blue engagement ring box. You felt like you were going to pass out.

“You Had a Speech, you’re speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches. And I couldn’t give a reason. Champagne problems.”

What could you do but retreat? You couldn’t say no to him in front of all his friends. You couldn’t even explain yourself to him. The pain in your chest felt like it had doubled. You were having difficulty breathing, but you knew you couldn’t stop. You tore open the closet doors and were dumping full drawers on the floor. You need to pack as much as you could before…

“I don’t understand.” He said quietly from the doorway. You didn’t respond, instead you grabbed fistfuls of clothes more hastily. “Help me, understand [Y/N].” When you ignored him a second time, he moved to stand in your way. “I though this is what you wanted. I thought I was what you wanted.” You avoided eye contact with him because you know looking at him would break you.

“So did I.” You told him quietly.

You abandoned all hope of packing. Still struggling to breath, you decided you needed to get that dress off. It was suffocating you. After seconds of watching, you paw helplessly at your back, Tony tried to help you unzip the dress. You were moving too much and he couldn’t get a good hold on the zipper. He gripped the fabric tight with both hands and pulled in opposite directions. The now torn dress fell to your feet.

“I have to go.” You said, turning around. You finally looked at him. He looked as broken as you felt. You began to cry.

“I know.” He whispered. He leaned forward and kissed you on the forehead. “You’ll always have a place here with me. If you ever change your mind.” He promised.

“One for the money, two for the show. I never was ready, so I watch you go. Sometimes you just don’t know the answer ‘till someone’s on their knees and asks you.”

Thirty minutes later the apartment was cleared of guests. Tony graciously told everyone that you had a stomach bug, but they knew that was a lie. You could just picture the headlines in the tabloids the next day. “Billionaire Boy Toy Back on the Market!” “Frantic would be Fiancé Flees the Scene.” Thinking about it made your stomach churn for real.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” Tony said in the doorway once he’d escorted the last guest out. “We…I have a guest room.”

“Um thank you but I think I need to stay somewhere else though, clear my head.” You explained.

“Where are you going to go? It’s the middle of the night.” He frowned.

“One of the downtown hotels. The touristy ones near the train station take reservations all night.” You told him. “I’ll let you know when I get there. Tony I’m so sorry…” You began to apologize, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” He said. It almost made it hurt more. You wish he were angry. You wish he’d try to convince you to stay. Having being so understanding and concerned made saying good-bye so much harder.

“’She would have made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head.’ They said. But you’ll find the real thing instead. She’ll patch the tapestry that I shred. You won’t remember all my Champagne problems. You won’t remember my Champagne problems.”

[tansypoisoning]

Yandere asks Prompt 35 with thor please ( if you write for him ) otherwise anyone of your choice

Not the best way to defend a fair maiden. Idk if I wrote Thor well - I think he sounds larpy.

Yandere asks

Warnings: Not very descriptive smut, alcohol drinking (reader is a bartender in this) anal play, oral sex (female receiving), yandere, violence, blood, gore and death of a side character.

When you landed on the County Line to work your first job as a bartender you were excited to make all the cocktails you’d spent hours perfecting. You should’ve known it was all for naught. Brentwood was a small town, filled with people with small minds; if someone ordered anything more complex than a rum and coke you had cause to celebrate.

Your days at the bar dragged by, and you longed to escape to a place that was less dead, where people gave you the chance to show your artistry. With your pay, that was nothing but a pipe dream.

That is, until he walked into the bar.

He was a beautiful man, and huge too. Unlike the locals, who dragged their tired feet to a seat and ordered their beers sullenly, he waltzed to the bar, a big smile on his face, slapped the counter-top and asked for your best drink.

“No preference?” You asked. This never happened.

“I’ll drink whatever you give me,” he declared, puffing out his chest “You are the mead master.”

You laughed. “Mead master? I like that.”

You mixed him a Last Word, and he chugged it down in one gulp.

“Another!” He called, setting the glass down with almost too much strength.

“The same one?”

“Anything you want to make.”

“Right, mead master,” you grinned.

You fed him drink after drink, at first worried that he was ingesting enough alcohol to kill him, but by the time the bar closed, he only looked a little buzzed. You felt a little buzzed too. His joy was just that contagious. He loved the Dark and Stormy, and he was very impressed with your Tiki drinks pyrotechnics. It was so refreshing to have someone who wanted to talk about fun subjects, and asked you questions and showed so much interest in your craft. Most clients spared you no more than a greeting, and the ones who did were usually just looking for someone to share their problems with, or trying to be sleazy. Not this guy, though. He was way too boisterous to be called a gentleman, but he was nice, and friendly, and respectful, and a respite from your daily grind.

Letting him wait for you while you locked the bar felt right, as it did letting him walk you home. You two made jokes on the way, laughing like old friends. The hand he would sometimes press against your waist or hip was very much not a friendly gesture, though.

You asked him up; asked him if he wanted coffee. Way past midnight. He kept his hand on your ass as you climbed the steps up to your studio apartment, above the drugstore. You two fell onto your bed, a heap of limbs pulling at clothes just as soon as you’d closed the door.

It was the best sex you’d ever had, and he had the biggest cock you’d ever had. It startled you when you reached into his pants to pull it out. He chuckled at your reaction, and watched as you stroke him to full hardness, fascinated. You were worried you might not be able to take him.

He ate you out, and he was unfairly gifted in that area too, making you cum with his tongue alone. You were face down on the mattress before you even knew what was going on. It was disorienting, but you couldn't say you were unhappy with the position.

With his fact cock in your pussy and two fingers in your asshole he brought you to one earth-shattering orgasm after another. You were sobbing on your pillows by the time he finally reached his own end.

You passed out with a heavy, yet surprisingly comforting weight on top of you.

The mysterious stranger came back to the bar the next night, and you got to ask him his name. Thor. Weird, but it suited him.

He was just as charming and just as eager to try your concoctions as before. The rest of the patrons all but vanished as you listened to him talk about how long he’d been in town, what he liked best about it and for how long he planned to stay. He gave you the impression his date of departure was malleable.

You went home with him again, and spent the better part of the night riding him. The other part you spent being bounced on his cock while he kissed your collarbone and breasts.

It became a daily thing fast. You’d wake up in the morning, slide from under his arm and watch him snooze on your bed like a big lazy cat while you made coffee. You’d eat breakfast together before sending him on his way while you went about your day, did your chores and ran your errands. He would already be waiting at the bar when your shift started, and he would sit at the counter while you served him drink after drink and you two talked until closing time. He’d walk you home and then fuck you senseless until the sun came up – then you’d do it all over again. This was the kind of routine you could get used to.

The sound of a shot glass hitting the wooden surface of the bar drew your eyes from the spot you were wiping. More than a week into your strange relationship, Thor was bright as ever and ready to imbibe as ever. Looking into his blue eyes, crinkling with his smile, you knew this would come to an end, likely sooner rather than later, but you were determined to enjoy his company while it lasted.

“Another!” He cried out and you laughed.

You were reaching for the wine to make his New York Sour when you heard one of the stools creak under the weight of another patron. You raised your head and smiled to the customer. You didn’t recognize him – probably from out of town. The grin you received in return wasn’t very charming.

“Can I get a beer, hun?” He drawled, emphasizing the last word.

“Sure.” You struggled to maintain your smile as you went back to your work.

You handed Thor his drink and filled a glass with beer from the tap. The stranger kept his eyes on you as he drained his cup, but you were lucky to have Thor there to keep your mind off of him.

“This is the best one yet,” Thor said.

“You only say that because I made it.”

“You have caught me,” he grinned, rising his hands in mock surrender. “I would drink anything that came from you.”

You placed a hand over your burning cheeks and turned away.

“Beer me,” the other man said, sliding his glass over the counter to you.

You filled it back up again and set it in front of him. This time, though, his fingers wrapped around your wrist before you could pull away.

“Excuse me...” You tried to free yourself from his hold while not calling attention to yourself.

“C’mon. Isn’t that why girls get jobs in places like this? To get attention?”

“Sir, you need to stop this,” you said, a little louder this time, pulling away harder.

His grin grew wider and sleazier. “You’re really gonna make me work-”

The man gasped when a third hand joined your tug o’ war contest. Thor had reached across the bar and grasped the stranger’s wrist, bending it at an awkward angle.

“Let go,” he said, his already deep voice even lower. A growl bubbled in his throat like a storm brewing inside of him.

“Hey, man,” the other gave a nervous giggle. “My bad. I wasn’t trying to steal your mark.”

You screamed when your arm was yanked up, then fell on your ass when your wrist was freed. There were shouts on the other side of the counter, then the loud noise of something crashing on the ground and a scream. You didn’t have the courage to stand up and see what had happened. It took your boss storming in from the backroom and pulling you to your feet while she yelled at the patrons.

“Get out!” She pointed at the scumbag who had harassed you and was now lying on the floor, crawling away from the broken stool just an inch away from him. She then turned to Thor. “You gotta leave too.”

He bristled at her request. “What?! I was defending her!”

“I don’t care. Just be thankful I’m not going to charge you for that stool. Get out before I call the cops.”

Thor’s breathing was labored, his powerful chest and shoulders rising and falling rapidly. He looked from your boss to you, his face contorted into an outraged scowl. He was so large – that had been a plus before, but now something inside you was afraid of his size, of what he could do with it.

With a final heave and a roll of his shoulders, Thor walked out of the bar, stepping over the man on the ground.

Your boss asked you if you needed the rest of the day off, but you declined. If you didn’t have something to occupy yourself you’d mull over what happened before you were ready to do it.

Even busy serving the customers that hadn’t left after that fight, you still found yourself thinking about what was no doubt the end of your relationship with Thor. Maybe he wouldn't even want to see you anymore, after you didn’t back him up. You were thankful for his defending you, but the way he went about doing it… You didn’t feel bad about the harasser, but the wrath in Thor’s eyes was paralyzing. You could barely look at him, let alone defend him.

You finished your shift and dragged yourself out of the building. Just knowing you’d not see Thor that night, that you’d probably never see him again, weighed on you like a ton of bricks. You’d grown more attached than you’d expected. You didn’t see yourself rejecting him if he came to the bar the next day to see you.

You weren’t paying attention as you made your way to your apartment, thus you only noticed the puddle on the ground when you stepped on it. It didn’t feel like rain. The fluid was too tacky for that. You started walking around the puddle and only stopped when you noticed you left a footprint.

Now fully awake, you examined your surroundings. The puddle was coming from an alley, and you couldn't see anything beyond it, but you could hear sounds from the darkness. There was a gurgling like a fountain pumping something thicker than water and a dull scratching. You didn’t know and you didn’t want to know what was hiding in the shadows, but your feet refused to run to safety.

The noises died down, leaving only a slow dripping behind. Something dropped to the ground and footsteps echoed in your direction. You could almost get your legs to move when a hand emerged from the shadows and pulled you in.

A wet palm covered your mouth before you could scream, and you were whirled around and pushed against a wall. You whimpered when your eyes adjusted to the dark and you recognized your captor. You had wanted to see Thor again, but now you weren’t happy to meet him.

“Finally,” he sighed, resting his free hand on your shoulder and letting it slide down your arms. His fingers felt warm and sticky. “I thought you were coming out sooner.”

“What are you doing here?” You tried pulling away and his hand squeezed your arm to the point it hurt.

“Waiting for you,” he frowned. “I’m sorry for how I behaved in the bar, and I’m sorry I rushed things.”

You were about to tell him you didn’t think he’d rushed anything when he adjusted his position and you spotted something on the ground. You thought it was a sack at first – you wanted it to be just a sack – but it was too large and too solid. You didn’t know how you recognized him, with blood staining his clothes and his face beaten into a pulp, but you knew this was the guy who had harassed you in the bar.

Your limbs started shaking. You couldn't tear your eyes from the bloodied corpse. It felt as if something perverse was holding your head in place and your lids wide open. Your lips parted, and even though you didn’t remember using them to say anything you must’ve had, because Thor began speaking again as if answering a question.

“I defended your honor! I thought you might like to watch his last moments, but I couldn't get him to stay alive longer.”

You finally managed to look at him again. The smile on his face turned into a pout when you remained silent.

“What’s the matter?”

You started shaking your head and you couldn't stop. “You killed him. You killed him. Why did you…?” Your voice dwindled to a whine and you didn’t know what you were saying anymore. At the corner of your eyes, you could still see the man lying on the ground. The ex-man. The pile of meat that was walking and talking and breathing just a while ago.

Thor held you by the shoulders as he peered into your eyes. It reminded you of the times he would look at you while you were having sex, too steady and too intense. It was clear now that all those times he’d looked at you, he saw you with feelings much stronger than the ones you had for him. “I was protecting you! I could tell what he wanted just by looking at him. He was a vermin.”

“Please let go of me.”

“No, no!” Thor shook his head and brought you even closer. “I can’t let you go. Do you know how many people like that exist? They’re countless! If you can’t protect yourself, and if none else is going to stand up for you… I felt this was destined, and now I know it is.” He moved his hands to the side of your face and held you in place as he leaned in. “I’m madly in love with you, and I will always protect you.”

He crashed upon you, his lips devouring yours and his body caging you against the brick wall. The taste of iron in his mouth, combined with the awful smell of the alley or the corpse, you couldn't tell, did something to you. Your head pounded and your stomach revolted, but before you could expel all its contents, the floor vanished beneath your feet and the world went dark.

[jackandthesoulmates]

Innocence Lost

Author: jackandthesoulmates / tintentrinkerin

Title: Innocence Lost

Created for @winklinebingo

Squares filled: Teen Rebellion, Dating Apps, Virginity

Pairing: Winkline [SamJack], [dysfunctional] Destiel mention

Warnings: Attempted Non-Con

Additional tags: Identity Crisis, Sexuality Crisis, Roofies Mention, Canon Divergency, Original Characters, pan/demi Sam Winchester, Swearing

Word count: 15,691

COMPLETED [READ ON AO3]

Inspired by “Gods and Monsters” (Lana Del Rey)

I Was An Angel

She’s a pretty girl. She really is. 

Long curly, glossy hair and she always smells like flowers. Or cherries. Sometimes bubblegum. Jack is very sensitive to sweet smells and tastes and this girl is just a bouquet of the sugary and most flowery things. He likes smelling her and he likes her voice, it always sounds like she’s singing or telling a fairytale. She even has a princess name: Aurora. 

Her eyes remind him of Castiel, intense blue with yellow speckles. Jack has read some love poems before, by Shakespeare and Wilde and Rilke and he thought of this girl when he read them. She is love poem perfect.

But, look. Thing is, yes she’s cute, she’s stunning, she’s like a spring breeze and a lot of boys would probably sacrifice a hand to be with her. And Jack is her boyfriend. For about two weeks now. 

Jack has no idea how to do this whole relationship thing. He met her when he was about to go buy some bread and pie. He had gone out with his pajama shorts still on and he didn’t even notice. Aurora was behind him in line and when they both were done buying their groceries, she stopped him and whispered in his ear, “You’re still wearing your pajamas!”

The whole which-clothes-when issue was still new to him, that’s why he messed up. And he apologized to her, but she only laughed. And her laughter made him feel better. She made him feel better all around. 

Jack didn’t know much of the world. Of course, he already knew a lot. He knew about hunting and friendships, about family and good and evil. He had experienced a lot already.

In theory, he knew about love. He asked Dean about love and sex. The answers haven’t been all too satisfying and there was no intrinsic feeling, no urge for Jack to go out there and find love. Or sex. He’s found Aurora now, that sweet girl, that perfect girl. She liked him a lot, he knew it. Two weeks are enough to fall in love, it seems. 

Jack isn’t in love. He knows it. Love feels different. Dean and Castiel both have described for him what love feels like. Their wording has been totally different but it was clear they mean the same thing. And they love each other, despite their differing descriptions. 

Why is he with her then?, he asks himself a lot. Because she is nice? She is pretty? She makes him smile? She laughs with him, not at him.

To her, Jack is just a quirky shy boy. He’s not the Spawn of Satan, or a Nephilim, or a Time Bomb. He’s not a tool. Not a weapon. Not an abomination.

He’s just that kid living with these three middle aged weirdos who live in a bunker outside of Lebanon. She never judges. 

What is love then?

Jack has an answer to that. He feels butterflies in his stomach, but it took him a while to understand it was a figure of speech. There were no actual butterflies in his stomach. But it was a tingling, a pull, heart pounding in his chest. Sweating. Shaking. Becoming super dumb all of a sudden, because Jack would confuse words, form abstruse sentences and just completely messes it up. He feels all that. He has dreams about this person and his underwear is wet the next morning. He had googled it and it seems to be a normal thing to happen to boys. But he feels embarrassed every time and hates it when someone else does the laundry. He doesn’t want other people to touch his dirty laundry. He also daydreams about kisses, and hugs, and heavy breathing, of noises that sound like Jack’s in pain, but he clearly isn’t.

Sometimes he would stare at the wall for solid minutes before he snaps out of daydreaming or someone catches his attention. Either by door slamming, “Kid, you there?” or - what Dean likes to do - throwing chocolate bars at him. Jack has angel reflexes, nothing ever hits him. Dean knows it. 

Jack also has been exposed to “adult magazines” already. Dean seems to hide his magazines all over the bunker and it was just a matter of time til Jack found one and took a close, very close look. He was confused about the nudity first, he was told nudity is for showers, bedrooms and birth apparently. He’s been born naked and Sam told him, babies were born naked. And people got naked when they ‘made love’ but that was something Sam didn’t talk about. Jack had asked, but Sam denied telling him how one ‘makes’ love.

The nudity wasn’t the only thing Jack was astounded about. What these people did looked very, very peculiar. And Jack put the magazine back, when his body from belly button down felt tingly, hot and somehow itchy. Even his ‘down there’ started growing. It got hard. It confused him for a while but when his crotch grew soft, he felt relieved and never looked at something like this again.

Later he found out there was a way to make it go soft ‘down there’ again. He just needs to touch himself and what happens then is bombastic. And messy.

This feeling, love. Was he ‘making’ it? But according to Sam two people were needed to make love together. Feeling it all by his own couldn’t be the same then. Jack was confused. 

To add to his confusion, when he was at a case with Dean, Dean had talked about courting and ‘the sex’ and Dean has made fun of him when he came home two weeks ago and announced he had a girlfried. 

“Which base? First? Second?”

Sam gave Dean a scowl and a slight punch against the chest.

“Don’t listen to him, Jack. We’re happy for you.”

When he was in his room at night, he barely slept. As a half angel he didn’t need as much sleep as a human. And he knew that Castiel never sleeps. Sometimes they met in the library to talk and play chess or Go. On some other nights when Castiel wasn’t in the bunker or with Dean, Jack would just read whatever came in handy. They had a large library, but Jack was a fast reader and soon he had to download books to his eReader that Sam gave him for his first birthday. But also, this tiny piece of electronics didn’t have enough capacity to download all the books Jack would read in a week, that’s why he asked Sam for a new microSD card for his smartphone. Sam didn’t say no to Jack very often. Jack read Victor Hugo and Jean-Paul Sartre, also Marcel Proust and he had a great time reading Finnegans Wake and Ulysses. He wished James Joyce was still alive, because Jack wanted to tell him what a great and funny piece of literature he had written.

He asked Sam to summon James Joyce. 

Sam thought he was messing with him, then said ‘no’.

Jack doesn’t like it when people tell him ‘no’ and that makes it even harder now for him to say no to Aurora. 

It’s their second week and she’s so in love with him. Well, that's what she tells Jack. And he likes her pink lips, they look like flower petals and he wonders how they feel. 

Exactly what Aurora wants him to do, outside the waffle’s place. She wants to kiss him and she looks pretty, her closed eyes, a tiny raindrop caught in her long eyelashes and she smells of vanilla and there’s still powdered sugar on her chin. 

Jack backs away. Her pouty lips look nice and he wants to feel them. With his finger.

When she realizes Jack isn’t leaning in to kiss her, she opens her eyes. She looks hurt.

“Did I do something wrong?”, she asks. 

Jack feels incredibly bad about the situation and he doesn’t even know what to say. He can't explain why shies away from a kiss. 

He hasn’t been kissed ever before. And he thinks of someone else when he closes his eyes at night, hand under the cover, rubbing himself through the fabric of his pajamas.

“I’m sorry, I…I have never kissed someone before, I’m…I’m nervous.”

That isn't a lie, he tells himself. It’s not a lie. Lying is bad.

“Oh”, she mouths. A perfect O shape with her lips. 

“Are you mad at me, Aurora?”, he asks, feeling very bad and guilty. 

Jack hates disappointing people and he avoids it at every cost. Usually. But he can’t kiss her, it wouldn’t feel good. He knows, deep down it won’t feel good at all. It won’t be catastrophic, but kissing someone he doesn't like that way is wrong. Sam told him he shouldn’t be physical with people he doesn’t know well. Sam told him he should be physical with someone he really really likes and that more than just as a friend. 

Aurora feels like someone more than a friend, but there’s no nocturnal pining for her. That’s for someone else. That’s why he has to go home now, before he makes it even worse with Aurora.

“No, Jack, it’s okay, I didn’t know…I thought…I mean you said you’re 21, I kinda just thought you already have…you know, kissed someone. Or even more.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. 

“Even more?”

Aurora hides in her pastel pink scarf. 

“Yes, sex, you know?”

With a sigh, Jack looks away and he can feel his face start burning. He has no idea how to have sex, he doesn’t even know exactly what it should be. It was a part of relationships, like Dean and Castiel’s but…all Jack can think about in regards of ‘making love’ and kissing and sex was…Sam.

“I’m not experienced”, he replies, slightly trembling. “I never did it.”

-

Later in the bunker, Jack is sleepless. He would like to sleep this time, because he feels exhausted and hurt. There’s something Aurora said. She said, if he kept people at distance he would never experience love and sex. Even a kiss was a problem already. This view on things was very weird to him. He doesn’t have a problem with kissing or finding out what love is. He just doesn’t want to kiss her. It feels wrong.

She didn’t text him since they departed on unknown terms.

And another thing creeps in his mind. Maybe the problem is that he doesn’t just not like Aurora, maybe he doesn’t like girls at all? And Sam is a man. Maybe he likes men, like Dean does? Dean often talked about women, he seems to like both. Men and women. And Castiel doesn’t even raise a brow when Dean talks about ‘casual sexual encounters’ how Castiel calls them. It’s still unknown territory for Jack. 

There are people who like girls, there are people who like men and people who like both…and what if their body doesn’t matter at all?

Jack doesn’t know where the difference should be, except that a man looks different from a woman. 

The whole sex thing is driving him up the walls. 

He gets up, puts his slippers on and goes to the library. Dean is there, a bottle of whisky in front of him. He doesn’t look deadly drunk, but drunk enough. Sometimes Jack is afraid of Dean when he had too much of this stuff. He can be very mean, aggressive and violent. 

Jack braces himself and joins him at the table. Dean looks up. His green eyes are glassy and his face is red. 

“Can’t sleep, kiddo?”, he asks, wrapping his gown tighter. 

Jack nods.

“No. I was naughty. And now I’m upset.”

Dean’s head jerks up, now Jack has his full attention. The smirk gives it away, Dean will make fun of him for sure.

“Naughty? As in, you finally did sweet lovin’ to her or?”

Jack shakes his eyes, frowning. 

“Now, she wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to.”

He sighs, sinks back in the chair, looking at the ceiling. There’s silence, Dean just chugs down the rest of the whisky, but he has another already on hand and opens it.

“Need a sip?”

His first instinct is to say ‘no’, but then he agrees and takes a drink directly from the bottle. Whiskey tastes like paste. He hates alcohol and it doesn’t make him drunk. He could drink ten of these bottles and still wouldn't feel a little thing. He knew that Cas also could drink immense amounts and he never feels even dizzy. 

“How do I know if I’m gay?”, he asks and avoids eye contact.

Dean bursts out in laughter. It takes a while for him to calm down again. Jack feels very embarrassed. 

“I shouldn’t have asked”, he murmurs and attempts to get up again but Dean stops him.

“Ey sorry. I’ll give you some advice okay? You will know when a man or a woman drives you crazy. Just, I don’t know. Try it. Get Grindr or whatever, chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s eyes are really teary now. That was maybe a little too much. 

“Are you okay, Dean?”

“Ya, ‘m fine. No worries.” 

Dean is not okay, but Jack has learned his lesson. Dean will always say it’s okay, there’s no problem, I’m fine. 

Sam is a lot different from him. He’s strong and calm, his hands are so big and his broad shoulders would be perfect to lean on. 

Dean is different. Never at peace, restless. Always on the run from whatever is going on in his head. 

“Is Sam…is Sam gay?”

Jack is shocked by his own words. Dean freezes. And then slowly, very slowly turns to Jack. There’s nothing friendly in his face, it’s a grimace.

“No, he’s not, Jack. Never was. Never will be.”

His heart feels like it’s sinking down to Jack’s groin. It hurts. He gets up.

“I should go to bed. Good night.”

“Sleep tight.”

Tonight Jack cries, hugging his moose plush toy.

*

“Grindr or whatever.”

“Chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s statements from that night stick with the poor innocent boy. He rolls these thoughts in his head and they roll from one corner to the other, like marbles. He also dips his tongue in them, tastes them. Makes them slide from his teeth down to his throat. But he never swallows them. 

Sam is not gay.

“Never was. Never will be.”

Sam doesn't like men. He doesn’t like boys. And Jack is a boy. Does that mean he has to give up on what he feels? But, what if Jack isn't gay himself? He has no experience. Not with girls, not with boys. He only knows it feels wrong to kiss Aurora. She is one girl of billions. And Sam is just one man of billions.

Maybe, even when Sam is not interested in men, Jack is an exception. He is half angel!

Grindr. Or whatever.

What is Grindr?

Jack didn’t eat this morning, because he  heard Sam and Castiel fighting over something Jack didn’t want to be part of. It was enough to see Dean drink so much, but he wouldn’t participate in any of the tensions that his behaviour caused lately. Dean had told him, he would kill him. Well, maybe he won’t do that anymore now since Jack helped to save the world more than once. He said Jack isn’t family. Maybe he still thinks so. It hurts Jack, because he loves his three father figures and he looks up to Dean. He’s a strong hunter, a leader. He’s the muscle of this team. Sam is the brain. Castiel somehow is the heart. But what is Jack? Always willing to sacrifice himself to make Sam and Cas and Dean love him. 

These thoughts are dark enough and going out there and witnessing another fight wasn’t Jack’s favourite start of the day.

He rather hid in his room after showering. 

Dean has offered him some breadcrumbs like the ones Hansel and Gretel left to find their way back home from the forest. But he needs to go the other way. He doesn’t need to find his way out of the forest and away from the witch’s gingerbread house. Jack wants to find exactly that. 

Wrapped in his towel he sits down on his bed, takes his smartphone and opens a search engine tab. Aurora has texted him but he doesn’t want to reply right now. He feels bad about how he let her down and didn’t kiss her. 

He isn’t sure what he is supposed to search for, he just types grinder. Several online shops appear. Obviously it’s a name for a tool to crush herbs and marijuana. Did Dean mean that? He should grind some herbs and perform a ritual? Nah. Dean was drunk, he surely didn’t think that far.

Next step is to look it up in an online dictionary.

It says a lot of things about molars (pressing together with a rotating motion), grinding as a verb to pulverize material, and then something caught Jack’s eye.

to rotate the hips in an erotic manner

Now, that makes sense in a way, that makes Jack blush deeply. It’s a motion he sometimes imagines when he’s hot and aroused. When his body works up, his cheeks hot and his spine tingly. He imagines sitting on Sam’s lap, both kissing and sighing, and then Jack would...grind. 

Jack has to put the phone away for a second. Thinking of this clouds his judgement. 

After a minute of breathing in and out and trying to tone these thrilling images down Jack is ready to now search for: “Grinder gay men”

The search engine reports “No results for Grinder gay men found. Do you want to search for Grindr gay men instead?”

Jack is irritated about the missing “e”, that’s a typo, right? but he presses the tab ‘yes’.

What pops up now is an article from an online encyclopedia and describes Grindr as a mobile app for gay, bisexual and trans men to chat and meet other men of the same interests. 

The second article is a link to his smartphone’s app store, which Jack opens. 

Dean wanted him to find this app. To meet other men. Try it. Now it all makes sense! Jack is happy about this. Dean wouldn’t be so mean to him after all!

He downloads the app Grindr - Chats, Meeting and Dating for Gays. The app’s icon is black with an orange mask in the middle. Looks plain but also makes Jack curious.

To use the app Jack has to sign up. Since Castiel once has given him permission to sign up in a social network he just thinks it applies to this stuff too. 

There’s a lot of text about privacy, which he just accepts to go further. He signs up with his e-mail address and password. He struggles with his birthday. He tells people he’s 21 years old, which makes his birthday for official purposes May 18th somewhere in the nineties. He has to do some funny verification procedures, the last one is verifying his phone number. 

The app wants him to upload a picture of him, and because he doesn’t have any he just takes one. He doesn’t mind that he's naked except the tiny towel around his waist. The first step is easy. He’s Jack, 21 and looking for Chat, Dates, Meeting up and Friends. He wonders why there’s two options for meeting people. One sounds like it’s for impatient people and the other one is for people who are patient. Like Sam. Sam would be patient. 

He’s now transferred to the next page. And he now sees a lot of other people using the app it seems. A lot of very muscly men are there. They all like to show their body, but Jack doesn’t really like this. Their nudity even makes him feel icky. 

Some men have nicknames like “BigTrunkBear” or “LikeItRough” or “Creamlover”. Jack’s confusion is growing. 

There’s also a lot of men having no photo at all, but how should Jack know how they look? Also the photos of legs irritate him. 

The app notifies him he needs to complete his profile. There’s some multiple choice questions but also dropdown menus and input masks.

It’s easy for him to type a few sentences about himself. 

Jack is as blunt as it could be. 

“Hello, I’m Jack. I like nougat, my fathers and shadow show.”

Age and height are no problem, but he has to google what ethnicity is. His skin is pale, then he must be white. 

Every question after that is confusing to him. He doesn’t know what “position” (Top, Bottom, Vers) he is, is he a “Bear” or a “Twink”? What is all that?

The confusion grows and Jack closes the app for a moment. He thinks about googling all of it. But then his phone chimes and there’s a text message in the app from a man with the nickname “OralPlesaurer”. Which is funny to Jack, because it’s a typo. And no one’s name in real life is OralPleasurer or Creamlover.

Cream is cool, yeah, whipped on pie. But Jack’s not a lover in the sense of the word. Weird people there.

Jack opens the message, it’s a simple “Hi”.

Jack sends a "Hi" back.

What happens then can only be described as…unexpected.

Shinin’ Like A Fiery Beacon

Sam has no suspicions what’s happening in Jack’s mind, but he notices he’s shy around him. Maybe even a little uneasy. The last months have been rough and Sam knows Jack has gone through a lot. Mostly he tried to gain Dean’s trust again, make him and Dean forgive him. But Sam was never mad at him. He couldn’t. 

There is a lot in Jack that reminds Sam of himself and that makes it hard for him to look at the situation objectively. 

Jack was destined to be a weapon for his father, Lucifer. And Lucifer was a special kind of topic for Sam and it has granted him a very twisted satisfaction that Jack helped to kill him off permanently. Three times. Jack’s struggle with his heritage was something Sam totally understands and yes, of course he also understands why Dean is angry and hurt. 

But why does he treat Jack like that still? 

Why is he so determined to stick to his anger and his grief? It doesn't even seem like he is trying to get over it, to forgive Jack. 

There’s something else on Dean’s noggin’ and Sam knows it, even when Dean doesn’t talk about it. The empty whisky bottles, all the sex with nameless strangers and his risky behavior aren’t new to Sam or Cas. 

But that Cas puts up with Dean’s bullshit is astounding. He wouldn’t let that happen. And Sam fights a lot. With Cas. About Dean. With Dean. About Dean. And Cas. And how he treats Jack.

Lately Sam noticed a feeling deep inside of him, flourished for Jack. A gentle, fragile feeling and he didn’t dare to touch this topic. Not even when he was in his room alone at night, rolling around in his bed. It’s a special kind of affection mixed with a frustrating amount of attraction. Sam hates himself for feeling like this. It’s just not right. Jack is nothing like his father, yes, but that's also not the problem. He’s barely 4 years old by now, he came into the world in the body of a young man but little knowledge and childlike naivety. How could Sam take advantage of that? Jack clearly wants to gain his friendship and maybe a platonic kind of love. It’s wrong of Sam to wish for more than that. And that’s why he keeps it hidden and rather tumbles into new fights about Dean’s alcoholism.

It’s his turn to do the cooking today while Cas and Dean are on an investigation and he’s alone with Jack. Sam notices once more that Jack hides in his room a lot, he won’t come out unless Sam calls him to lunch or dinner. Mostly he skips breakfast. So far there’s nothing weird about it, maybe Jack needs some privacy. Sam thinks of his youth with Dean and Dad on the road and how he hated to never be alone. 

Taking ‘long showers’ was always suspicious and a lot of things he and Dean did were blurry to him now in his late thirties. When Sam fled to Stanford and finally had a room for himself, actual locks and actual keys for them, doors he could close...it was better than heaven. That’s when he finally could explore what it meant to be a teenager and deal with the rampaging hormones on his own. Also, he could finally be away from Dean’s hypersexual behavior. Maybe Dean thought it was cool to be like this in front of Sam, especially when they as brothers became a little too close and it was his way to dodge the bullet. 

In the light of his own memories Sam knows what is happening.

And he’s sure Jack’s kind of blossoming at the moment. 

With his super cute and lovely girlfriend, Aurora.

Sam hasn’t met her yet and he has no idea how to react. Of course, he’d be nice and polite and make her dinner and ask her all the nice and polite things for small talk and tell Jack how lucky he is but there’s something primal inside of Sam. Jealousy. He hates being jealous and he has no right to feel that way. One more reason to just let this blooming feeling die and not feed it with anything. 

Not with his weird daydreams or the thoughts at night that keep him bothered and not the moments he’s alone in the shower, rubbing one out. Afterwards he’s just more frustrated, instead of feeling any relief. 

Sam needs another cup of coffee, a strong one. Before Cas and Dean went out, there had been another argument. It was hurtful. Things were said and then taken back, Cas’ puppy eyes all over, Sam's yelling and Dean almost breaking shit. Like always. Maybe after this one they’d calm down, all of them. Dean and Cas were alone for a while, maybe doing some reconciliation. Sam would be happy for them if they could get over whatever was going on. 

In the meantime Sam is just happy with cooking, doing laundry, generally cleaning the bunker and reading. It may sound boring for some people but for him it’s heaven. They’ve had too much going on for fifteen years, some peace is pretty nice and just what he needs right now.

Jack’s an active reader too and he reads the good stuff. Sam educates him about most things he’s comfortable with and he knows he should’ve given the kid ‘The Talk’ already, but Dean kinda started it and Sam is a bit of a chicken regarding this topic. Sex isn’t his favorite thing to talk about. And so far, there seems no reason to rush it, even though Aurora is there. Dean told him about a week ago that Jack has refused to kiss her and if there wasn't anything else going on Sam was unaware of, that was the sexiest thing Jack had achieved so far. A kiss from a girl.

Sam burns his tongue on his coffee because he chugged it too quickly. With a curse he bangs the mug on the table and that’s when Jack walks in. Lately he abandoned his adorable pajamas and wears some of Dean’s and Sam’s old shirts and flannels he grabbed out of the sacks for the clothing drive. That looks wrong in all the right ways, but Sam can’t really say anything about it without letting his guard down. And he won’t let his guard down. Never. 

“Morning, Jack”, Sam utters, trying to cool his tongue with a sip of water. “I didn’t expect you to be up that early. Want some porridge?”

Jack looks up at him and there’s still a sleepy veil surrounding him. He seems to be just woken up. He is wearing one of Sam's old shirts, which is too big for him and the sight makes Sam gulp. A little.

“Yes, sounds good.” Jack sits down and yawns in his hand while Sam gets him some porridge and a cup of coffee with a lot of milk in it. 

Now Sam notices that Jack carries his smartphone with him, which is unusual. Jack mostly uses it for chatting with Aurora or doing some research but he never carries it around like some other teenagers do who are maybe a little too attached to it. It vibrates a couple of times before Jack takes it and mutes all notifications. He looks…guilty?

“What is it? Is Aurora chatty today?”

Jack looks up and puts a spoonful of porridge in his mouth, shaking his head. 

“No, it’s um…it’s nothing.”

Sam is suspicious. Does Jack talk to someone else? Would he need to give him a talk about keeping options open? He doesn’t want to approach the issue by himself, so he rather sits down and eats his breakfast too. Jack seems a bit nervous, always throwing stolen glances at his phone and the screen lights up every couple of minutes. Jack doesn’t reply to any of these messages, he just turns the phone screen down on the table and keeps eating. 

The day goes by, Sam just gets cosy in the library. Dean messaged him it’s a vampire nest and he and Cas will hunt them down tonight. Which is a good sign. Sam also told him to take some time off after it, maybe go to Vegas. Dean hasn’t replied yet. It’s a bit selfish but Sam likes the quiet peace in the bunker. They have thought of moving out a couple times but none of them could really think of somewhere else to live. They were hunters after all and so far they didn’t think about retiring. The bunker was still the core of their family. A home. Dean’s and Sam’s home after years on the road or couchsurfing at Bobby’s, the only home Jack knows. Sam even started to make his room look like an actual bedroom. It had been bare and clinical for years when he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea to settle down with Dean. He thought the bunker would maybe one day be taken away from them again. 

His phone chimes and Dean promises to be back in a couple of days. Couple of days. That could mean they’re back tomorrow or in a week. But he’s happy that Dean takes the chance anyway. 

Sam is totally sucked in by the book he’s reading and he jolts when Jack appears in the library, a hot chocolate in his small hand and a slight disturbed look on his face. 

“Sorry, you scared me a little bit”, Sam says and feels bad about it. 

Jack only smiles and takes a seat across the table.

“It’s okay. Sam, can I ask you some questions? I wanted to ask Dean, but he’s away and not replying to my texts…” 

“Of course. What’s the matter?”

Jack looks up to him, big blue eyes piercings through Sam’s skin. He hates when that happens, Jack has an unsettling effect on Sam. He’s not used to feel like this. 

He squirms in his chair now and then with a sigh, Jack takes the phone out of his pocket to place it in front of him. Okay, so there is something up with the phone. Sam was right about it. 

“How do I know if I’m gay?”

Jack doesn’t look at Sam, he stares at his phone. Sam can see his ears getting red and Jack just blushes so easily… and also very intense. His face is burning red, Sam would bet his ass on it. 

The question itself is nothing Sam would classify as weird. It’s obvious Jack’s going through a phase of finding himself. Contemplating his own sexuality is part of it. Thing is, it makes Sam slightly uncomfortable talking about it. It’s partly because Jack is so young, the other part is that he’s attracted to Jack. Sam didn’t feel attracted to anyone for years and he hates labels. He loves who he loves and he wants to sleep with people he has a strong connection to. And a life as a hunter doesn’t provide much space for a romance to unravel.

How is he supposed to talk about it when he has no idea where to start?

He isn’t a good measure after all.

“Oh, that is as simple as it is complicated”, Sam starts, folding his hands on the table. He takes deep breaths, before he starts to speak. 

“First of all, I can only speak for myself and I don’t know if I'm for much use. In regards of sex you really better ask Dean, but since he doesn’t seem to look at his phone at the moment, I will try.” 

He has already told Jack about making love instead of sex and Sam has thought about his choice of words and regretted some of it. It sounded way too much like purity culture and Jack shouldn’t think sex was bad. Sexual attraction isn’t bad at all.

It just doesn’t fit for Sam.

“Does your question have anything to do with how you feel about Aurora?”

Jack nods. Slowly, a little unsure.

“She wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to. It didn’t feel right. And I wondered if it has something to do with- I mean- maybe I like boys and not girls?” 

His face is so red by now, Sam could swear he feels the heat radiating from the boy.

“There could be several reasons for it, it doesn’t mean you’re gay. Most people kiss and make love because they’re attracted to each other. Attraction is a very tricky feeling. It feels like butterflies in your stomach, heart pounding, you maybe even feel dizzy. That’s when most people say they’re in love. Do you feel that when you are with Aurora?”

Jack shakes his head.

“No.”

“Then maybe, you’re just not in love with her, and that's okay. You will fall in love with another girl in the future. Or you fall in love with a boy, which is also totally fine. Also you can feel attraction to people who don’t fit in the girl/boy categories. It’s all just about how you feel around them and if you want to kiss them. Or go further.” 

Sam rubs his hands. He really feels uncomfortable educating Jack about love and sex. Now would be a great moment for Dean to show up and take this conversation.

“You know, Dean likes both. Cas is an angel, I don’t think a concept of gender applies to him at all.”

This is when Jack looks up. 

“And what do you like?”

Sam now leans back in his chair, his heart aches a little and he feels heat creeping up his neck. He hates that question.

“Well, Jack…” he sighs heavily, “I don’t care much about gender too. I’m not gay, but I’m not straight either. And I’m also not bisexual, like Dean. It’s hard to say. When I like someone, I like them and I don’t see gender. Boy, girl, queer, it doesn’t matter.”

Now Jack takes a long, careful sip of his hot chocolate. His smartphone chimes again and Sam just has to ask.

“Do you think you’re gay, because you didn’t want to kiss Aurora or is there something else on your mind?”

He knows it’s not his business but he also takes it very seriously to be a good role model, be a father figure to Jack. When Jack needs help, Sam will provide it. Same goes for Cas and sometimes even Dean has his bright moments of fatherhood. 

It’s obvious Jack doesn’t want to answer right away, he looks like he is tasting words in his mouth, rolling them over his tongue, putting them in his cheeks for a moment, before he says something that surprises Sam. 

“There is something else. A man asked me out, but he asked me things I don’t understand.”

Sam stiffens. 

“A man? How old?”

Jack shrugs. 

“Couple years older than Dean maybe?”

Now Sam leans forward, skeptical and on alert. 

“What do you mean, he asked you out? Where? How?”

Jack now shows Sam his phone and Sam recognizes the push messages. The icon is black with an orange mask in the center. 

Oh no, that’s not good. Like absolutely bad.

“On this app. He lives close and he asked me if I like bareback? But I don’t know what he means with that. Does he want to go horse riding with me on a date?”

Sam can’t help but laugh. It’s a diminished, unhappy sound. 

“No, he doesn’t want to go horse riding with you, Jack. He wants to have unprotected sex with you.”

You Got That Medicine I Need

“What do you mean by… that he wants to have unprotected sex with me?”,  Jack asks. 

He was utterly confused about this statement and how Sam came to that conclusion. There’s so much he doesn’t know and so many things he got wrong. Sam also doesn’t help much with his shooting questions and… things like this. Jack furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head. 

“You have to delete this app and stop talking to these creeps.”

Sam looks very upset and Jack doesn’t get why. 

“Answer my question please, what is bareback then? Sam, why do you think he’s a creep? He seems actually nice, he says he likes my eyes and my lips, look!”

He shows his phone again to Sam and he just takes it. Then Sam gets up and starts fumbling on the screen, his eyes narrow. Jack knows this kind of facial expression, he usually sees it when Sam is upset with Dean. Should Jack maybe tell Sam it wasn’t his own idea to install the app? Would that help? Would he then be mad at Dean? But Jack doesn’t want that either, he wants Dean to like him. 

“Jack, it’s gay slang. And this guy”, his voice rises in irritation and suppressed anger, “he looks fishy. Why the hell do you use these apps anyway? You’re with Aurora and… you have no idea about sex yet, casual dating shouldn’t be something you … you like. What is this all about? Jack?”

Jack feels like he’s shrinking to a tiny puddle of shame under Sam’s piercing eyes, his sharp voice and how his chest heaves. He’s also annoyed at the same time. It’s his fathers’ fault he knows so little about sex and how to court people, no one really feels responsible to help him with it, except Dean! Jack looks up to Sam, even when it hurts right now, he hates it so much when Sam is angry. And he feels like he was a dog that took a shit on the carpet and now has to feel utterly guilty for… having essential needs? 

That it’s Sam who tells him to stop makes it even worse. He’s trying to figure out what he feels for Sam, it’s hard enough to see him all day and feel this tickly, hot and cold feeling all over his body and only be able to release it in the silent darkness of his room, quietly moaning and thinking of Sam kissing his tummy and thighs… and even more. Jack feels all the heat building up inside him, it makes his skin crawl and his eyes tear up.

“I want to know if I’m gay or not!”, he says, way louder than intended. “And Dean said it’s a good idea to meet up with men and find out what I like!”

Sam stiffens, chest heaving even harder when he drops his hands and bangs them on the table. 

“Dean told you to install this app?”, he asks. Voice dangerously gentle.

“Yes.”

Jack crosses his arms, defensively. 

And then Sam nudges the smartphone back to Jack. He looks so angry while appearing so calm, apart from his deep breathing. Jack can see the breath vibrate in Sam’s chest and he wishes so badly to lay his head there and hear Sam’s heartbeat, feel his pulse and how his chest moves while breathing. 

Sam’s mouth is a firm little line before he speaks.

“I guess Dean didn’t think his advice through, Jack. This app and many others are made for casual sex and hook ups, and I wouldn’t let you meet any of these guys you’re talking too. You could get hurt”, he then combs through his long hair, fishing for words, “You know that there’s people out there who want harm. It’s too dangerous. Delete it.”

Jack doesn’t attempt to take the phone again, looking at Sam, angry himself.

“No. I need to find out who I am and you keep on handling me with kid gloves!”, he says, voice raised and aggressive. 

This is when Sam slams the table with his fist. “It’s because you are a fucking kid and I don’t want you to be whoring around!”

Wow. 

That feels like a punch in the guts. Jack knows what a whore is. He has googled it after Dean has told ‘whore stories’ at the dinner table when Sam was out with Cas once.

His eyes tear up heavily and there’s a choked sob before Jack grabs his phone and gets up. 

“I’m not a whore, Sam. But good to know you think of me like this.”

Sam's frozen solid for a couple seconds, can’t act on anything but wants to. Jack fumbles on his phone with shaking hands and then shows Sam.

“See, app deleted. No ‘whoring around’ for me.”

And then Jack storms off. Sam calls out after him “Jack, I’m sorry, please come back!” But Jack doesn’t come back. He grabs his jacket and goes outside. He needs some time alone.

*

In the evening, alone in his room, Sam is extremely downhearted. He tried to talk to Jack later, when he came back into the bunker. He even came up to Sam himself to show him the app was still gone, but didn’t talk anymore. Of course Sam apologized every time they saw each other, but Jack didn’t react. 

Damn, he has fucked up so hard this time. And he can’t even lie to himself saying it was just a stupid thing he said. That he didn’t think. Well, he really didn’t think at that moment. There was just … that moment, that hot red moment of possessiveness, of jealousy. And this fata morgana of pure, asexual Jack that Sam could protect and nuture, versus this dark fucked up desire to kiss him, ruin the literal angel. Be the one to show him love. 

To show him how Sam could make him feel, make him come in thousands of ways. Sam’s so touch starved and drawn to Jack and he is so endlessly ashamed of it. It’s not right, he keeps telling himself. It’s wrong to feel attracted to a child. To the child of his rapist. Even Sam cries in bed sometimes, like today. He cries about his stupid words, about how he hurt Jack and how filthy he feels all the time in contrast to the pure and utter arousal picturing the nephil in his bed, sweat covered and hot and willing and moaning Sam’s name when he spills all over his firm stomach. 

Fuck. Holy fuck. This is so bad. 

*

Jack retreated in the forest for a while, listening to angry music on his phone, kicking sticks and stones around till he reached the pond where he just sat down, stared at the glistening surface for an hour or two. He cried a little, too. Sam’s words have hurt him incredibly. Sam is Jack’s role model and the person he wishes to be closest with. And that Sam, especially Sam implies Jack ‘whored’ was so excruciating, that his half human body even threw up the rest of dinner. With his knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in his eyes he cried and cried, before the childlike side in him started rebelling again. Sam has hurt him, but Jack still wants to know what’s wrong with him. Why he feels for Sam, and if it’s because he’s male… or because he’s Sam. 

The feeling hurt even more now, it even hurts now when he’s in bed, staring at the ceiling, still listening to angry yelly music. His body is terribly worked up again, but now Jack reinstalls the app, his profile is still there. He doesn’t know what to do with the old guy who wanted to ‘bareback’ him but he had googled it while staring at the pond and Sam was indeed right. But this old sack wasn’t the only guy Jack was in touch with, there was also Hunter, 25, from Gilead, Kansas. Jack likes the name hunter, because him and his fathers are hunters and hunters are mostly good people. He also likes the name of the city where he’s from, Gilead. It refers to a mystical place in the Bible, which he read a couple times already, but also was the name of the USA in the novel The Handmaid’s Tale by Atwood, which he loved too. And Hunter is nice, very nice and when Sam demanded Jack to delete Grindr, Jack was afraid Hunter would be mad if he didn’t reply to his last message.

But of course Jack wants to reply to Hunter, and there’s two new messages from Hunter which he answers quickly. He gives Hunter his phone number and then decides to delete the app really, just in case Sam wants proof again. Which Jack would maybe deny next time, he is so sick of being treated like a child. Because he’s not. His body is fully developed, and he knows a lot about the world. He knows facts, but it’s hard to find out about all the social stuff. Jack feels alien most of the time, because he has intimidating powers and his angel self works different from his human self. He just has too little experience in human and social interaction and Sam even tries to take away the chances Jack could have to be better at being a human being, which is the side he picked long ago. He wants to be human. Normal. And he wants to be accepted, respected and loved. Not patronised and cared for like a baby. Of course, he knows. He’s defiant and petty but he’s tough and brave enough to learn more about the world and love. 

Aurora isn’t forgotten, he feels bad when he thinks of her, but she also didn’t reply to his last message. Which makes it easier to attach to Hunter, who says in his profile he’s a “vers bottom” (and since no one seems to care about giving Jack a proper talk he googled it and now is indeed in the picture what that means), wants to find true love and relationships. His favourite movies are Star Wars and Lord of the Rings and he likes novels like Lord of the Flies and Fahrenheit 451. He sounds so intelligent and nice, Jack trusts him already after a few days of texting. He seemed able of critical thought and he liked books Jack also liked and they spent a day just talking about religious imagery in The Great Gatsby. But yeah, Jack was totally whoring around. Surely.

Tonight he’s too hurt to let his usual thoughts of Sam go too far, instead he opens his messenger app and he doesn’t have to wait very long after messaging Hunter to get a reply.

Jack smiles when Hunter asks if he is in bed already and what he’s thinking of. Jack texts back he thinks of a certain dark haired, brown eyed man he likes. Hunter looks a bit like Sam and Jack can lie to himself casually here. The texts turn hotter with every turn and Jack’s heart starts pacing, his hand sliding under the seam of his underwear while he reads Hunter’s latest message, describing how he would undress Jack, kiss him and let his hand wander where Jack wasn’t touched by anyone else than himself so far. 

In the morning he feels way better. Hunter’s messages have given him some very nice moments of pleasure but he also feels a little guilty. He hasn’t replied to the hot messages because he’s a total newbie and doesn’t even know what he likes himself. When he told Hunter in the night he’s a virgin, Hunter was very nice and understanding and told Jack he doesn’t have to reply if he feels insecure. 

This sort of validation is something Jack wants to have from Sam but after what Sam said and how deeply it impacted Jack’s trust in him, he tried to let go of this hope. Sam thinks he’s a child. Or a whore. Or both. Jack knows about Nabokov’s Lolita and wonders if Sam thinks he raised him to be seductive to old creeps like the bareback guy. 

One way or the other, Jack is hurt and pissed off, but overall he feels better and steadier today, his ego is petted very thoroughly by Hunter. Maybe one day Jack won’t need Sam’s approval and affection anymore. Seems a nice thought today.

When Jack gets dressed he sneaks up to the kitchen and he can hear from across the floor already Sam is talking to someone. He’s loud, his voice full and usually Jack likes how deep, low and growly Sam can sound when he’s in some kind of situation he’s passionate about, no matter if positive or negative. 

But this sounds like he’s yelling at Dean and that’s never good. 

“Why the actual fuck did you tell Jack to install a gay hook up app, are you out of your rotten mind? He took your word for it and now I am the one who had to clean up this mess!... Yes, he used it and a guy he talked to wanted to meet up and bareback…. Jesus FUCKING Christ Dean that’s not funny-- stop fucking laughing! He could be hurt! You’re such an asshole. I wonder why you fucking hate the kid so much, after all he did for us!... No, I didn’t forget about mom, never will. But you know it wasn’t him. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings right now... Leave the child alone or I swear you’ll regret it!”

A long silence. Jack counts from 50 downwards and stops at 7, when Sam’s voice rises again. 

“Yeah you better. Gimme Cas, I need a word with him.”

Jack has heard enough. “The kid”. “Clean up a mess”. “The child”.

Mary Winchester.

He’s suddenly not hungry anymore and retreats to his room, where his smartphone vibrates the moment he closes the door. It’s Hunter, of course.

Looking To Get Fucked Hard

It takes Jack a day and a half after the phone call to make the first move towards Sam and accepts his apology, which is very well-considered, diplomatic and remorseful. He still feels very hurt by Sam’s words and the fight over the phone with Dean also didn’t help him look over the fact that Sam has a certain edge in his voice when it comes down to explaining ‘adult stuff’ to Jack. Jack, who is naturally curious and eager, but also blunt and innocent, doesn’t quite understand what his problem is. When Jack hears Dean talk about sex with several people, sometimes at once, it doesn’t sound like something he feels ashamed of. He’s even proud of it. 

But Sam is so much more secretive and retreats from any question Jack has from now on. Is sex something bad? And why does he think Jack is acting like a promiscuous person for talking with people online?

It takes another five days in which Jack secretly talks to Hunter over his messenger app and Jack avoids looking at his phone when Sam is around. He doesn’t want to get in another argument again but he also likes the way Hunter makes him feel. Even though Jack is a virgin and inexperienced, Hunter takes him seriously. He treats Jack like an actual adult, with adult needs and adult opinions and an adult body, that is longing for another human’s touch. Jack kind of came to the conclusion that being in love with Sam won’t go anywhere good, not after all the things Sam has said to him. And how he thinks of Jack. As a child, something he has to protect and nourish but for God’s sake don’t touch it. 

Jack doesn’t want protection. He wants to be loved as a man, even though he’s barely a man now. 

Sam’s apology doesn’t change his way of thinking about Jack. 

Damn, why does he have to be in love with Sam, from all people? Maybe it would be even easier with being in love with Dean. Scruffy, grumpy, spiteful, asshole, loyal, troubled, vulnerable Dean?

Is that maybe any better?

But even Dean doesn’t take him seriously as someone who has needs. He gave Jack this damn idea about the app and he probably knew it would cause Jack trouble when Sam found out. 

Over the next days Cas and Dean don’t show up and Sam is worried even when he tries to hide it behind research and angry texts and treating Jack even more than a kid. Makes him his favourite food and drinks, even lets him drink some beer. 

It makes Jack feel even more like someone you need to treat like a timid fawn.

Does nobody see that Jack is no fawn anymore? That he’s ready to grow, that he has intimate, sexual urges. He is prospering for everyone to see, but Sam just squeezes his damn eyes shut and Dean makes fun of him.

And Castiel probably doesn’t even know what it all means because he’s a full grown celestial angel, or an ‘eldritch horror’ as Dean sometimes puts it. 

Time to sow his wild oats.

After a week of absence it seems clear, Cas and Dean are either having a good time or they’re getting lost somewhere in a brothel or a casino or whatever humans do in Las Vegas. Sam doesn’t tell Jack where exactly they are, but Jack thinks they got somewhere to also let off some steam. 

Jack decides to meet with Hunter, after they had some very thrilling conversations at night. It’s mostly that Jack still imagines Sam when he touches himself but Hunter is giving him a lot of things to think about. He doesn’t feel that naive and innocent anymore, now that someone tells him he’s hot, he’s cute, he’s desirable. He is equal. 

No more thinking of ‘down there’s and that kissing is oh so sacred. It’s a change that would scare Jack if he wasn’t so eager to show off to Sam he was mature enough to be treated equally. Hunter presses the right buttons. And all of them at once. 

Jack wants to know how it feels to kiss, to be touched in places, he even wants to touch someone else. And if he keeps telling himself it’s Sam, while he’s with Hunter, he might even enjoy it more. They look so much alike, or at least how Jack thinks Sam looked when he was way younger. Maybe Hunter’s smaller, and what Jack saw from his body wasn’t that defined and muscular, but he can dream. His imagination is going strong. 

His hormones and his contact with another man who shows interest in him make Jack cocky.

They set the date already two days after the fight with Sam and today is the day. Sam and Jack still don’t spend much time together and in the morning Sam announced he will be doing some inventory in a room he was able to unlock with a smell Rowena left him. He told Jack about shelves full with old scripts and mason jars labelled with ‘icky stuff’ and he thinks that in no way the Man of Letters Cuthbert Sinclair would’ve left such a mess and vague labels. Icky could mean a lot. 

Jack doesn’t mind and tells Sam he wants to read The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann.

“That’s a piece of work, Jack”, Sam says, a little proud maybe. “I never made it through it.”

“Well I read some articles about it already and I’m very interested about the portrayal of eroticism, life and death.”

He can’t leave it. He has to tell Sam about the sex stuff he’s interested in. The protagonist of the novel is said to be bisexual and Jack would really like to read it. 

But not today, he will drive to Gilead to meet Hunter, as soon as Sam will drown in his inventory. 

“You also should focus on the motif of time and its correlation with life and death”, Sam says, ignoring the eroticism. He’s unapproachable with the issue at all. It drives Jack up the walls, since his hormones, hurt ego and the cockiness took over his thinking.

“Thrilling.”

Jack means it sarcastically and catches a glance from Sam that he can’t quite ignore. The tension between them grows weirder every day instead of resolving. 

He gets up now, he needs to shower and get ready soon. 

Jack doesn’t know why, but there pops up a thought in his head. About making love.

He wouldn’t do that today. In his nightly thoughts he still couldn’t wrap his head around the difference. 

Of course he’d never admit it, but Jack still knows nothing about love but that he feels something for Sam that comes pretty close.

Sam knows something’s off. That something is still off. Jack is reserved, but sometimes also irritating. Passive aggressive. Mopey. Yes, of course, Sam has apologized as often and honestly as he could but nothing seemed to help Jack and him to find a common ground again. He understands Jack wants to be treated differently, like something he isn’t just yet in Sam’s eyes. It’s his need for being the guardian that doesn’t let him treat Jack like an adult. Let him drink whiskey, watch porn, have sex. The contradiction of his own sexual attraction to Jack and the need for control and guidance drives Sam up the walls too and he has no one he could talk to about it. Dean is distant in his own manner, he’s fled with Cas and after Sam had yelled at him over the phone about letting Jack use this sex app there’s radio silence. Just a quick heads up from Cas now and then. Sam feels like the trip for just the two of them isn’t helping the way he wished for.

This is why he needs to do the damn inventory. Keep himself busy. Think about something else than Jack being a little jerk all of a sudden, Dean’s whiskey consumption and Castiel’s helplessness. Is Castiel even helpless? Or does he just pretend he doesn’t see something is terribly off? Being alone with Jack makes it really rough. Either Jack’s too close, or he’s too reserved, there’s no balance at the moment, and in his mind, it’s also either Jack grinding on his lap or Jack, far away with Aurora or that nasty creep from the app. 

Gladly he’s deleted it and they didn’t need to have a talk about it again. Sam would be furious if Jack lied to him. Furious, because he’s jealous, helpless and sexually gone rogue. 

Why is it so wrong to feel this way? 

In the storage room there’s utter chaos and Sam will probably spend two days in here. Today, he embraces chaos. Chaos is good, because he can break it down and bring it into an order. His order. His system. He even brought instrumental music to have something to drown his own dark, sorrowful and horny thoughts. It will get over soon. He won’t be crossed in love with Jack forever. He can push through this.

But does he really want to?

Sam is so busy with tidying up that weird room that he doesn’t notice anything else is going on. Jack can hear faint flute music across the halls when he sneaks around. He has put on his best shirt, ripped stone washed jeans and a leather jacket that Dean inherited to him. Involuntarily, because he actually wanted to throw it away and like some old shirts, Jack just picked it up and kept it. 

He also did his hair the way Sam said once, it looks good on him. Then maybe Hunter would like it, too?

Jack takes one of the keys for the Volvo in which Sam had taught him to drive. 

Ironic. Sam lets Jack drive, but God forbid he does other adult things!

With the key in his shaking, sweaty hands Jack sneaks off to the carpool garage. The Volvo is purple and has two scratches (long ones) from Jack’s driving lessons, but Jack owns the shame about it now. He unlocks it, gets inside and opens the navigation app on his phone. It says he will be on the road for around 90 minutes, which is okay. He has brought an audiobook, three bottles of water, some protein bars and a charger for his phone. Better to have a fully charged phone, Sam says. Not everything Sam says is bull, even when it feels to Jack like it. He’s gone through a lot of feelings for Sam lately, one of them was anger because he also felt like Sam would patronise him in the most hypocritical way. As if he didn’t try stuff out when he was younger! Dean has told a story or two. But Dean also said Sam’s not gay and that’s not completely true, he found out. Sam is about the person, not gender. So, yes, he’s not gay. But he’s also not straight. If he was just in love with Jack, too. It would be so easy and Jack wouldn’t be so worked up about it.

Jack tries to shoo the thoughts away when he texts Hunter that he’s on his way, but of course he can’t. Sam is always on his mind.

*

If Sam knew he caused a moderately severe teenage rebellion and a sexuality crisis, he probably would’ve never said such bad things to Jack, and he would’ve tried to reconcile even harder. But this way he’s wound up in his inventory distractions, trying to shut the whole issue out. 

Sam jerks up when he hears a noise from the hall. It’s probably just Jack walking around. Maybe the damn Magic Mountain and its discourse about damn eroticism was too much for Jack and he looks for something else to read. Sam sees him with all the heavy stuff actually. He read the Iliad, the Odyssey, the complete works of W. B. Yeats and the baroque geste The Fairie Queene by Edward Spenser in the Middle English original and he wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks. Sam has a hard time reading this epic poem, it’s complicated and he feels like he needs to have graduated in literature or linguistics to make sense of it. The problem is, Sam is maybe smart, but Jack is a fucking genius. Sam hates to admit it but the kid is so smart, he outwits Sam vertiginously.There’s not much Sam can actually teach him but what he can teach he doesn’t want to. Sex for example. But Dean is a shitty substitute and maybe, yeah, maybe Sam should do it. It will be embarrassing and awful but Dean would drag Jack to a fetish club or something and he can’t let that happen. It’s enough that his three father figures all are a bit weird, Jack could end up like a vanilla type of person and do something remotely decent for a change. 

Maybe he should consider giving Jack some sappy romance novel, some light fare. Something that won’t stimulate Jack’s curiosity about the deep endless pits of the human mind, or human sexuel desires. Something that would scratch surfaces but not go too deep. Nora Roberts maybe, but when Sam thinks about it he remembers her novels as repetitive, and not without a problematic approach of gender dynamics, masculinity and love.

Damn. Now he’s thinking about Jack again. 

It will never stop.

Sam considers a break. Just to get himself a sandwich, maybe sit together with Jack and give him another honest and more straight forward talk about how and why Sam is the way he is and why he is so different from Dean. He’s pretty sure he’s given very honest and clear answers to Jack’s questions before they had that stupid fight. Labels really aren’t Sam’s jam, but maybe Jack feels better to know labels and then decides they fit or they don’t. And Jack should know that Sam has been vulgar, unfair and downright wrong with his wording and with patronising him like that. It was not his place to send him to his room like a stubborn kid. He kind of realizes now, that Jack is so much more. He deserves a chance to understand the complex dynamics of human interaction in any kind and Sam should let him.

On his way to the kitchen he hears even more clanking of plates, a running coffee maker and sizzling. It smells like steak. 

This is weird. Jack doesn’t like coffee. Jack also doesn’t know how to make a steak, that’s Dean’s thing.

Dean’s thing.

Oh no. Sam hurries to the kitchen, before Jack maybe sets something on fire and when he appears in the doorframe, calling out for Jack a very confused Castiel and Dean are in the kitchen, Dean almost drops the hot pan. Cas jerks in surprise and burns his hand with hot coffee.

“Jesus Fuck, Sam! You scared the living shit outta me!” Dean exclaims, looking confused. 

Cas wipes his burnt hand clean of the spilled hot coffee.

“Why are you here?”, Cas asks and looks at Sam. 

Sam is just as confused as they are at that point.

“Better question is, why are you two here? I thought it was Jack in the kitchen.”

He doesn’t even have time to be relieved about seeing Dean in good condition. He really looks good and relaxed. But at his brothers’ question he raises his eyebrows and turns off the stove. 

“I, uh, actually sent you a message a couple hours ago we’re comin’ home Sammy. Enough Vegas. You didn’t reply and then when we parked Baby in the garage, the Volvo wasn’t there. That’s why we” - Dean gestures to Cas - “deduced you and Jack are maybe going somewhere and you didn’t check your messages.”

Sam’s confusion grows. “No, we didn’t go anywhere. I unlocked a secret storage room right on the way down to the pool areas and I’m doing inventory. Jack is in his room. He reads some old dusty Thomas Mann novel, because he’s into phalluses all of a sudden.”

Dean coos a laugh and Castiel clears his throat. Then all three get a glimpse on the fact that something may be wrong here.

“Well, if we’re all here, who took the Volvo?”, Cas asks, silently healing his burn.

Sam could swear Dean mumbles a “son of a bitch” under his breath before he says: “Well, not everyone is here. We should look for Jack.”

Jack isn’t in his room. His shoes and his shoulder bag are gone. The Volvo keys are missing. The situation is pretty clear. Jack has gone somewhere and didn’t tell Sam.

Son of a bitch.

Screwed Up, Scared, Doing Anything That I Needed

The date doesn’t quite go as Jack imagined it to go. Hunter is indeed the man he texted with, but he’s only ever seen the chest or his face and now Hunter looks distinctively older than he claimed on Grindr to be. Jack is too shy to ask him about it, he feels like it’s maybe rude. Hunter has used an old photo on Grindr, that’s for sure. They sat down in a bar anyway, it’s fall and it’s dawning already. Hunter offers to buy Jack drinks and given the fact Jack wouldn’t get drunk he accepts. 

But Hunter seems weird. The conversation stops a couple of times and he asks a lot about Jack’s love life, but Hunter knows already, he’s inexperienced, right?

After an hour and two cocktails Jack retreats to the toilet to wash off the weird feeling he has. Hunter is nice to him, there’s no reason for him to be more suspicious. Maybe Hunter was just embarrassed because he’s lost some hair already, and the started balding on the back of his head. When Jack turns around, he gets stuck at the restroom’s stalls door and his phone nosedives in the sink where the water is still running.

“Oh shoot!”, Jack cries out. That can’t be real right now!

He tries to dry off the phone best as he can but he knows it will be best to turn it off and put it in rice. He has no idea about how to get home though and he kind of wants to go home soon. There’s no connection to Hunter as he wished there would be. 

Back in the bar Hunter awaits him with what he calls a Gin Tonic. Jack chugs it down and he doesn’t like the taste at all.

“Oh you can take a lot!”, Hunter says and Jack gets the idea that he isn’t amused about how much Jack can drink. 

“Yes, I umm, maybe it’s my very fresh liver”, Jack says, but he doesn’t go any further.

“Look, Hunter. You are a nice person, but I don’t feel a real connection. I’m very sorry”, Jack says, being very guilty of wasting the man’s time. 

Hunter shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about it, Jack, we just wanted to meet and find out, right? But would you be so kind and ask the barista for his number for me? He seems to be flirting but I’m shy, as you may have … noticed.” 

Jack is a bit irritated, but he wants to do the man a favor and agrees. “I wanted to order a coke anyway”, Jack says, getting up. “Do you want something more?”

The older man just gives him a crooked smile. 

“Nah, I’m good, champ.”

Champ. Who says champ?

Jack goes over to the bar where the barista (tall, handsome, eyeliner and old school tattoos, maybe as old as Jack passes with). As innocent as he still is in his rebellion he asks him about his name and number.

“Who do you want that for?”, the barista asks him, pouring him a glass of coke.

Jack hates lying, that’s why he points over to Hunter with his thumb. 

“My date over there.”

The barista huffs and shakes his head.

“No, but if you want my number I’ll give it to you.”

Jack declines.

“That is very nice of you, but I’m already in love with someone and I think I won’t be with anyone else very soon.”

“I’m Baz, if you change your mind”, that’s when the barista gives him a slip of paper with his instagram URL on it. 

“Thank you, Baz”, Jack smiles at him and waves when he takes the coke in his hands and goes back to Hunter. 

He’s on the phone, texting someone and Jack just remembers he maybe needs to get a phone call or some maps print to find his way home. His phone shouldn’t be turned on again and he should maybe call Sam to pick him up. That’s really a dumb situation he’s in. Hunter doesn’t look up at first but eventually does and Jack sits down.

“I’m sorry, he’s not interested”, Jack says and takes a sip of his coke. 

Hunter sighs but he kind of doesn’t look all too disappointed. “Thanks for the effort though.”

“Hunter, I have a little problem, my phone got wet in the restroom and I need to print a map or call my dad to fetch me here.”

That’s something he seems to like hearing and Hunter relaxes. 

“Not a problem, you can come home with me, it’s not far. You can use my printer if you like and I can give you a bag and some rice to put your phone in. It’s no big deal.”

Jack sighs in relief and relaxes a bit. It’s dark outside already, the kind of darkness, that’s not all consuming, but creepy enough. Jack doesn’t like being outside alone for too long and he’s glad Hunter is willing to help.

He wants to pay for himself, this is why Jack gets up and pays his drinks at the register. When he’s back he exes his coke, that tastes strangely bitter this time and maybe it’s just some residual from the cleaning agent. Hunter smiles and gets up too to pay. Jack buttons up his jacket and they leave the bar together. 

The air is crisp and there’s a hint of rain. Jack can taste the drops already. 

The walk is a little longer than expected and when they arrive at the house, Jack finally gets suspicious. Hunter claims to live on the second floor, and there’s light in two of the rooms. Did he leave his lights on? That is wasting resources and Sam doesn’t like it when Jack would leave the lights on. 

Jack doesn’t give it any more thoughts. Somehow Jack feels a bit icky now, there’s a bitter taste in his mouth and his sight is getting a tiny bit blurry, frayed on the edges. Hunter lets him in. 

“If you like, you can wait here for a second, I uh, I think I didn’t tidy up very well, I didn’t think we’d come home”, Hunter says, giving Jack a crooked smile. The apartment is tiny, the fitted kitchen just has a small fridge and two hot plates. There’s a microwave and an electric kettle, a toaster and a coffee maker. All in all it looks tidy, but worn, the wallpaper of the corridor looks yellow-ish and it smells of cigarettes. Jack doesn’t like it when people smoke and he’s glad none of his dads do so. Hunter hurries to a door that maybe leads to the living room and sleeping room. Jack has very good senses and he doesn’t feel like he’s alone. There’s footsteps and breathing and the smell of something clinical. 

Jack needs to lean against the counter of the kitchen unit and close his eyes. He feels uneasy, something is wrong and he knows he should go. His body feels heavy and his thoughts delay.

And that’s when Jack can hear another man as clear as a bell saying something to Hunter.

“Dude, why did you bring him here? He’s still conscious!”

Then Hunter.

“I had no choice, I gave him the whole bottle. That shit could kill an elephant but he’s still walking straight. I had no idea what to do!”

“You fucking retard!”

This is so loud now, Jack would even hear it if the men didn’t whisper. Jack knows he should react much faster but he feels like he’s walking through water when he reaches for the door and opens it.

And what he sees is nothing he expected.

Jack’s phone is dead.

“What do we do now?”

Sam is clearly panicking and Dean is moderately concerned now, too. Cas kind of holds his shit together, but he also worries. 

The angel also is the one to make first assumptions. 

“Every of our cars has a GPS tracker, right? We can find him like this, we just have to consult the app.”

Sometimes it sounds like Cas thinks there’s a breathing person on the other end of the line looking the GPS signal up for him, but neither Sam or Dean really bother to make fun of him for a change. 

“This is my fault.”

Sam of course blames himself. He has been unfair to Jack, he even insulted him. Something that Sam would never do. If he was still a bit sane, but he seems like his feelings for Jack just turn him inside out. But then he looks at Dean, who really makes a guilty face right now and Sam has an idea.

“No, actually it’s your fault, Dean. You told him about the damn app. We had a fight about it and a couple days later he sneaks out? He must’ve kept contact with someone.”

Dean frowns and crosses his arms, defensively. 

“Well I didn’t expect him to pull it off, I mean the boy is clearly in love with you, Sam. I thought that would help him enough through his identity crisis.”

Sam just ignores Dean’s suggestion, Jack would be in love with Sam. Sam would know that, right? He would notice, if Jack was seeking his attention? And given the nature of their relationship that would be absolutely inappropriate.

As inappropriate as his own feelings for Jack.

“Stop making fun of him, I swear, I’ll strangle you myself if something happened to him.”

“Whatever.” Dean says and shrugs. “I know I’m right about that. You should’ve just, dunno, give him a hand or so.”

“You’re unbelievable!”

Before Sam could really reach out and knock his brother unconscious, Castiel interferes. Physically and vocally.

“Sam, Dean. This isn’t helping. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is that Jack is gone, we need to find him. The GPS app says the car is parked in Gilead, Kansas. That’s about an hour and a half away from here. I turned on angel radio, but Jack isn’t responding. Something has happened. We need to go. I’ll zap us to the car and from there, I can maybe sense him. We have no time for rituals. Let’s hope, he’s okay.”

Sam feels like he is about to collapse and cry his heart out. Jack is out there and maybe he’s in danger. 

Life Imitates Art

What is irritating Jack the most isn’t the camera on a tripod in front of the bed. It’s also not the three strange guys surrounding the bed or Hunter’s surprised and frightened face. It is the tarp spread over the mattress. A black shiny huge tarp and Jack doesn’t have a single idea why it should be there. His vision shifts slightly and there’s a distant ringing in his ears. 

“What is..?” Jack wants to ask but the sentence won’t leave his mouth completely. 

Of course, even he gets now he’s been tricked into something. He’s been so incredibly stupid.

“Come on, boy, just relax”, one of the men says and Jack recognizes the voice. 

It’s the one who called Hunter a retard and complained about Jack still being conscious. That’s why the coke tasted like soap. Hunter tried to drug him!

The man comes closer now, Jack smells his sharp and heavy aftershave and his head is spinning. Gladly, Jack is half angel and the drugs didn’t knock him out. That’s why Hunter gave him too much it seems. He isn’t going to faint or something but Jack is clearly handicapped and when a second guy also comes closing in Jack looks for a way out, but Hunter behind him locks the door. He looks around, panicking, but all he sees is an XXL bottle of massage oil and sex toys. Oh holy shit.

“Don’t come near me!”, Jack says, retreating, but nudging Hunter with his back and Hunter grips his arms. “Don’t touch me!”

Jack knows how it is to be afraid, but this is a whole new level of fear. He fears for what these men will do to him if he doesn’t manage to get out. The familiar sensation of his powers start tickling. First in his stomach, then his arms and then a piercing pain behind his eyes.

“I said, don’t touch me!”

The men won’t stop but one of them is looking at him like he’s a ghost.

“What is happening with his eyes?”, he yells. “Shit, something’s wrong with his eyes!”

This must be the moment Jack’s eyes start glowing golden, like they do when Jack is in a state of emotional distress and he does good so. Because the next thing Jack feels is like his chest is erupting. 

“No one touches me!”

And then the world turns red.

Castiel drags Sam and Dean across the city, all three of them panicking. The Volvo is abandoned, parked in the city but no sign of Jack. They have no idea where to look first and Cas’ doesn’t receive any signal from Jack, and, well, you can see he’s trying very hard to get even a tiny bit of information.

Dean and Sam are still yelling at each other, like that’s helping anyone right now! But Cas is too focused, too worried to care about the mortals fighting like children. 

When Jack’s powers surface, Cas can hear Jack’s enochian voice in his head and it’s shrill, it’s blinding but he knows exactly where they have to go now. He grabs each Winchester and says, following Jack’s call “Shut up, you two. I got him!”

Jack feels dizzy and sick, and he vomits all over the floor. It’s coke and alcohol, gastric acid and the drug Hunter gave him. Everything’s coming out in spurts and Jack is happy to get rid of the poison. The dust in the room settles, three bodies are scattered around him, all of them still breathing but bleeding but one of them, the fourth is crawling towards the door. Jack wants to stop him, because he thinks the man might hurt another boy just like this and he can’t let him get away with it, but his human body is cramping and throwing up bitter fluids. 

The man wails when Sam shows up out of nowhere, sided by Cas and Dean. Jack sees them through a veil of tears, but he can’t get up, all he can do for now is whimper. There’s distant grunts and yelling, hectic moving. Cas helps him sit up and his warm healing light helps Jack regain some conscience. 

“They’re all blacked out”, Jack hears Dean say. “God damn, look at this, Sam. Camera, bed, latex bed sheets, dildos, lube….”

“Gang rape”, Sam just says and Jack can hear his voice shake with anger. 

Then - sounds of plates clashing on the floor and Sam yelling at Dean. And then yelling at Jack who’s still held by Cas to be healed. 

“For fuck’s sake, Jack! What did you do?!”

“We need to leave”, Cas says, “we can’t stay, the eruption didn’t happen unheard. Police will be here soon.”

“Sam?”, Jack moans. “Sam?”

Sam crouches in front of Jack and places his hand on Jack’s cheek. There’s no smile in Sam’s face, which Jack would die for. There’s disappointment and anger. So much anger. 

“I didn’t mean to…”

Jack regains his strength and gets up. “I’m okay, Cas. I can walk.”

It’s no difference if Jack wanted it or not, it happened. He has almost been assaulted and videotaped because he trusted the wrong person. Because he wanted to show Sam he’s an adult, he can make his own decisions. He’s mature enough to date. 

The bitter truth is, that Jack was just a brat and it almost cost him something important. His innocence.

On the way home, Jack and Sam don’t talk much. Dean and Cas zapped back home, but they needed to get the car away from the parking lot and Jack doesn’t want to be zapped, he still feels sick. It’s not only because he threw up all of his meals and drinks today or that he used his powers to defend himself. It was the look on Sam’s face that was utterly sickening. Jack could live with Sam yelling at him again, even calling him a whore or whatever. Call him stupid, childish, bratty, cocky. But the silence is gnawing on Jack’s nerves like a hungry rat. But there’s not much he can say, because if he just told Sam what’s gotten into him he would maybe spill he’s in love with Sam. That he wanted to know what is going on with his body and mind and why he desires Sam of all people on this planet … that Jack wanted to know how it feels to be taken seriously by someone who desires Jack. And if there was a way to forget about Sam with someone else. It didn’t work with Aurora, hell it didn’t work with Hunter. 

Jack wonders if he’ll just be in this state forever. Seeing Sam and immediately daydreaming of his big, strong hands all over Jack’s body. 

Sam doesn’t talk to him for the whole ride except necessities, he doesn’t talk much when they’re home. There’s another very nasty fight between all three of his dads, when they think Jack is already asleep. Cas looked after him half of the night, helped him shower, brought him sandwiches, water and anti nausea pills. He even attempts to talk about what happened but Jack just can’t. Not yet. Not with Cas. How could a seraph, a celestial being, understand Jack’s human nature? And his failures? He tries and Jack is happy about it. He apologizes to Cas more than once but Cas just says, it’s okay, it happens, we all make mistakes. 

But the yelling of Sam and Dean is deafening.

Sam accuses Dean of getting Jack willfully in danger. Dean yelling at Sam for being a fucking coward. A hypocrite, a prude. A liar. 

Dean is a drinker, an asshole, a narcissist, relationally disturbed and overall a bad person. 

If you believe what they say to each other, which Jack doesn’t. 

He doesn’t know what or whom to believe these days.

It takes Dean two days to come up to Jack and apologize. There’s a lot of words being said, all saying the same. That Dean was a prick for saying that, he didn’t mean Jack to get in danger. And somehow Jack thinks, no, he didn’t want Jack to get hurt. He wanted to teach Jack a lesson, whatever that lesson was. Jack wasn’t getting behind it and Dean just manipulates sometimes. He maybe knows the answer and Jack would’ve done a lot to be able to read minds. He could also make all of them stop lying again, but the last time ended in so much chaos… Jack better doesn’t act up at all these days. He’s just happy his fathers found him on time. 

Put Your Hands On My Waist, Do It Softly

It takes Jack three nights to finally go up to Sam’s room and knock. He knows Sam is awake, he may not be able to read minds, but he senses Sam’s distress. 

“Yeah?”, Sam calls.

“Sam, uh, it’s me, Jack. Can I come in?”

A loud sigh, creaking of the bed. 

“Sure. Come in.”

Jack feels like the damn newborn fawn he didn’t want to be mistaken for in this moment when he worms into Sam’s room and closes the door behind him. Sam is in his shorts only, Jack in his pajamas, but when Jack is honest, he didn’t sleep a single minute since they got back to the bunker. He is afraid of the dark and the loneliness and he misses Sam around him so damn much, he cries until his eyes burn and his face is swollen. 

“Sam, I wanted to say, … I am sorry, I shouldn’t have lied to you about the app. I shouldn’t have snuck out to meet a shady guy so far away. I’m really sorry.”

Sam looks up. 

“Jack, what you did was stupid, rash and irresponsible but I’m not the one you should apologize to. I should apologize to you, but all of this won’t make it undone, you know?”

He tears up again when he sees the hurt look on Sam’s face.

“Look, I know I was mean to you and I was overprotective, rude and I didn’t even tell you why I’m not telling you everything about love and sex you want and need to hear. I should have because I’m your caretaker and I should’ve known better. I don’t blame you even half as much as I blame myself.”

At first Jack wants to protest, but Sam is right. There’s been mistakes on both sides with a hint of Dean spicing things up. 

“Can I sit down?”, Jack then asks, still standing in the corner at the door. 

Sam gets up and puts his laundry away from the only available seat. Except his bed. 

Jack sits down, rubbing his face and squeezing his legs together. Damn tears. He even has a headache. 

“I wanted to understand”, Jack mumbles, looking down at his lap. “Why I feel certain things for certain people-”, he looks up, Sam’s face is still a stiff grimace, “... why is it all so confusing?”

“Love?”, Sam asks.

“Yes, love. Sex. All of it.”

There’s a minute of nerve wracking silence, before Jack has the guts to say it.

“I only ever wanted to know how it is with you.”

It’s so quiet now, Jack imagines he could hear a pin drop at the gas station out of Lebanon. He knows he dropped a bomb right here, but he overheard another fight with Dean calling Sam a hypocrite -again- and ‘having the hots for the kid’. Apart from being called a damn kid again, Jack checked what that means. Having the hots. And well, yeah, Jack himself has the hots for Sam and he doesn’t want to live with the uncertainty anymore. He won’t meet anyone else he wants to be with, not in a very long time and if Sam doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, he can still try to move on. But there’s no moving on in a vacuum. Like now.

“Dean is right?”, Jack asks carefully, his voice is thin.

“Dean is right”, Sam finally admits and buries his face in his hands. “But it doesn’t mean it’s right. You know?”

“I know.”

Another second passes.

“No, actually I don’t know, Sam. I don’t think it’s wrong. You said you’d never judge. But why did you do so when I needed your approval the most?”

Sam looks helpless, wringing his hands. 

“Because I was jealous and I shouldn’t be.”

“I would’ve liked your jealousy more than being insulted by you.”

It’s visible how uncomfortable Sam is, he’s fighting emotions. Jack is, too. But he’s crying already. What happened to Jack was terrifying, but what he really, truly fears is Sam’s rejection.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Stop being sorry and start being honest with me… Don’t you think I deserve it now? I know I’ve changed very radically. I used to go to town in my damn pajamas. That’s barely four weeks ago and it feels like years already.”

Sam smiles now. Even a little sad.

“Yes, it was actually very adorable. Seeing you like this.”

“I’m not adorable anymore. I’m not that naive anymore. Why can’t you just… see me like Dean sees Cas?”

“That’s a very bad example and you know it.”

Now Jack laughs and wipes away some cold tears from his face. 

“And I already see you like this, Jack. But I feel guilty for it. I’m here to keep you safe. I want to be the person you turn to when you’re lost, I want to guide you, but also be the person that’s your safe haven. Can I do that when we… Jack, when we get together, our relationship will change. We will get to know each other in ways that might scare you. Or even scare me. I’m afraid of that. And if I’m afraid, you should be, too.”

When Jack gets up and sits beside Sam on the bed, without asking first -- it feels like a very bold move for Jack. He likes being close to Sam and feeling his body radiate warmth and safety but also desire and a pull that’s hard to resist, Jack knows it’s the right thing.

“I’m not afraid. I’ve been afraid in Gilead, but when I’m with you, I know nothing bad will ever happen to me.”

Sam’s face yells OBJECTIONS but Jack ignores it.

Jack leans on Sam’s shoulder, the touch feels electrifying and at first, Sam stiffens, but then relaxes and puts his hand around Jack’s shoulders.

“I’m not afraid”, Jack says again. 

Sam nuzzles his nose against Jack’s hair and kisses him right behind his ear. Jack feels violent hot shudders all over and that is the most intense thing he’s ever felt for anyone.

“It feels good”, he mumbles, turning his face to Sam. 

Sam is close, incredibly close and despite the hot shudders Jack gets goosebumps all over. It feels like that one time he had fevers, when he was dying, but in a good way. The best possible way. 

Jack doesn’t receive a kiss on his lips, as he wished for, Sam kisses his cheek and his jaw. Just slightly. But to Jack it feels like he’s a dying sun out there in the universe and he’s being eaten up by heat and flares of light. 

And then Sam’s hand reaches for Jack’s.

“I still need time…”, he whispers, “we both need some time. To be sure.”

“I’m very sure.”

“Give it a minute”, Sam says, hot breath lingering over Jack’s face. “Just a minute…”

Even Sam can’t wait the damn minute before he kisses Jack. Gentle and soft like a hummingbird.

"This is Heaven, what I truly want."

[merci-bitch]

Careless Thing

Jareth x Fem!Reader

Warning (s): swearing, angst, fluff

Genre: drama

Words: 2,2k

A/N: This was very fun to write! I had so much fun experimenting with David’s character, I wanna thank @like-the-wings-of-butterflies for helping me with some stuff and for allowing me to take inspiration from her fic around Jareth. You should go read it, it’s really good and she captured David’s character so well!

I listened to Ed Sheeran’s song ‘One’ while writing some parts of this story. It actually helped with the whole, idk. It helped me write more comfortable I guess. And then there is a hint of Ariana Grande’s song 7 Rings in there as well. That wasn’t planed. I swear, it just happened. I also listened to the soundtrack of The Greatest Showman. If you haven’t seen the movie, you definitely should. It’s the best movie I’ve ever seen. 

Sorry for the authors note to be so long but I had planned for this to come out a few days ago, I had about 5 thousand words and it all disappeared. Like seriously, it just happened also writing while listening to music can be a big help. For me, it helps me write. The writing keeps floating on and you’re in a better mood, depending on what song and how you’re writing your story. 

“Jareth!!”

I felt my blood boil, as if it was running over or as if air was coming out of my ears. I walked through out the hallway leading towards the thrown room, where I heard the room once full of sounds and laughs quiet down. Whisperes was heard when I opened the door, walking inside slowly. Looking around, before making eye contact with a special person. “Everyone out, now!” I broke eye contact as I pointed at the door behind me. One after one , the goblins left the room, closing the door behind them. Jareths usual grin was replaced with an surprised expression. He got off of his thrown and walked over towards me, taking ahold of my shoulders. Squeezing them lightly. “What ever is the matter darling?”

I showed his hands off me before walking further towards me, making him take a few steps back. I knew I couldn’t be able to keep my mouth shut anymore. “How could you? After everything I did to you, how dare you!” I pointed at his chest, slightly hitting him harder each time. “What is it I have done now precious” His lustful grin back on his lips. He thought this was some kind of joke, didn’t he? My vision starting to blur as tears were starting to fill my eyes. His mismatched eyes changed.

“I-I didn’t marry you; I didn’t come here for you to treat the friends I have like bare dirt!” His face filled with confusion. I stepped away from him as I felt tears run down my cheeks. “Just because they have what you call a ‘lower’ standard doesn’t mean you can treat them like this Jareth!” I turned around as saw his eyes fill with worry. I rarely cried, and when I did. It was mostly in secret. I hated when people saw me cry, I feel so weak and vulnerable if anyone sees me when I’m crying.

“Y/N, darling. Come” He mentioned for me to sit on his lap. I didn’t move from my spot at all. “You know what Jareth? You’re a selfish, reckless, careless bastard!” With that, I left out the door. Pushing it open as a sob finally escaped my throat, hearing him yell my name behind me. Running towards the front door of the castle to get out, I kept feeling as if his eyes were on me. Of course, his eyes are always on me. I decided to walk around the labyrinth, something I often did. Walking around, exploring new sides of the labyrinth; which you would always do because of how big it was. It gave me peace, you can say that. The wind swaying slightly, sending small shivers down my spine as I walk around in only my dress, which was surprisingly short.

After a while of walking, my eyes bloodshot red and cheeks tear stained but I had finally calmed down when I heard footsteps behind me. I knew those footsteps all too well. I stopped and heard the footsteps stop as well. I started walking again when I heard his footsteps once again. “For gods sake Jareth! Leave me alone!” As I turned around; there he was. Standing as close as ever, right in front of me. His nose just touching mine as his lips ghosted over my own. I looked up and my eyes meet his. I didn’t look away like I normally would. There was something about his eyes that made all flushed up.

His mismatched eyes never failed to express himself. They would always tell me, tell others what he was feeling. The power he hand over me by just giving me that one look. That I couldn’t lie about. Even if I tried he would prove me wrong. But this time, I wasn’t gonna let him have that power. His hand moved its way up and brushed past my check. “My queen, come back with me” I moved away from him as I let out a scoff. “I am your king and you will respect me!” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t make me say those 7 words, my king. Cause we both know that I have all right to say them” He stood there quietly, not moving. “You wouldn’t” Jareth said after a while of just standing still. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Oh, I wouldn’t? Try me” I had never even dared to play with Jareth. I knew that he always got it his way. When he wanted something, he got it. He want, he got it.

He was speechless, clearly since he wasn’t used to me clapping back at him. I never did it, I wasn’t a person who did it. I was a kind and loving person, who cared for others more then I cared for myself. That would often be a problem, but thanks to living here in the labyrinth. It’s all gotten better. I wouldn’t say I wished myself away but I traded my own self for my little sisters, so she would go back home. I never really meant to wish her away, I guess I was just too scared to wish myself away. If you’ve ever wished someone away, we always say “I didn’t meant it!” It’s a classic. Jareth says he is used to hear it by now.

I wouldn’t call myself as cruel as Jareth was but it was quite fun to watch how people would make the wrong decisions in his labyrinth. Me and Jareth would always lag beths on whether this person can solve his labyrinth. As boring as Jareth is, he always says they won’t make it, when I however have faith in them, even how dumb they might seem. I always had faith in people. Sometimes I had faith in the wrong people. Trying to see the good in everyone person that passes my way. I was a kind person. Jareth would sometimes say I was too kind. At some points I could agree on that. I’ve been hurt too many times by just being me. But I’m proud of who I am, and I wasn’t gonna let anyone drown me all their opinions. I didn’t ask for it. When the sharpest words wanna cut me down, well look out. Cause here I come and I’m proud of who I am. This is me, accept it or leave it.

“What has gotten into you lately?” His voice was soft, but you could hear the stern tone In his voice. “I-I’m just tired of sitting there, watching you treat my friends like dirt! They have a heart and soul to Jareth! Just because I married you, doesn’t mean you can treat them like that!” He stood there, quiet for a moment. “so you want me to be nice” It sounded more of a statement then a question. I crossed my arms across my chest. “Yes. And I want more freedom for myself” This caught him off guard. “excuse me? Don’t you enough freedom here?” This time, there was a hint of worry in his tone. “Don’t take it the wrong way Jareth. I love it here in the underground but I just wanna be able to walk out here without having your eyes on me 24/7 “. He nodded and turned around while scratching his head. “How am I supposed o know if you’re in danger? If someone hurt you?!” My lips forming a small smile. “Jareth, my darling love. I’m a big girl, I think I know how to stand up for myself. You don’t always have to worry over me” I took ahold of his hands, squeezing them lightly. Starring up into his mismatched eyes. 

“No could blame you if you walk away Y/N. I’m just scared something is gonna happen to you my precious. I couldn’t bare to let that happen. I move the stars for no one other then you” I let my hand move up to his face and cup his cheek. I felt him lean into my hand then turning his head, giving my hand a kiss. “I’ll never leave you. I chose this life, I decided to spend forever with you. It’s not long at all.” The usual smirk that was placed on Jareth’s lips returned. His hands moving around my waist, pulling me closer to him as he leant down and left kisses on my cheeks. His hands moving lower, until one of them was resting on my ass. Since Jareth was a few inches taller then me he would always play around with me. Always. To be honest, it kinda annoyed me. What could I do about it? He was The Goblin King after all. He had all power over me. 

“Now, now Jareth. Go apologize.” I could hear his groan forming in the back of his throat from inside the croak of my neck. I patted his shoulder as he let go off me. “Can’t I do it later? I wanna show my precious queen how sorry I am” I couldn’t help or stop the blush creeping up my neck as my cheeks grew warm. I heard him let out a low chuckle as he slowly stepped away until he disappeared. I was quite jealous of his magic. I always begged him to teach me but he never did. Guess he was scared that if I finally learned how to deal with magic I would leave him. Honestly I couldn’t blame him. After that last girl who broke his heart. I think her name was Sarah? She wished her brother away by ‘accident’. While saying ‘I didn’t mean it!’ Bullshit. But I can’t really say that. Since I clearly wished something myself, but I chose to stay. At first I didn’t really like Jareth. But I saw his pain. He wasn’t as mean as people would think. He just wanted to be loved like most people do. Wanted to feel someone’s love. To wake up to someone everyday and hear those three words. ‘I love you’

                                                        *** “Y/N my darling, where are you?”  Those words could scare me so much. I made a deal with Jareth. After our argument a few weeks ago; I would hide in the labyrinth and he had to find me, without using his magic. If he could within 13 hours everything would stay the same as before but if I won, I would get more freedom. Could wander in the labyrinth without having him watching me 24/7 and he would teach me magic. He was so unsure of that one. My theory was right. He was scared that I would leave him, I wouldn’t dare to. He saved my life when no one else did. 

“I know you’re around here precious. Why don’t you come out and save us all the trouble”

He had about 2 hours left. I couldn’t believe I ‘this’ close to beating him. I stepped back a few steps which resulted in me falling over and hitting my head in the ground. It hurt quite bad and I knew Jareth had heard it. His eyes were magical themselves. He could hear anything, even from miles away. I held my hand in front of my mouth to quiet down my sobs that were forming in my throat. One part of me wanted to scream out his name but the other part wanted to keep quiet. I heard his footsteps getting closer, and my tears streaming down my cheeks. Feeling the back of my head was wet. I knew that it wasn’t water. 

“Jareth”

My voice was weak and fragile. Soon enough he was standing in front of me, holding me closer to his chest as he rocked me back and forth while holding my head carefully. This man was a weird one for sure, but he was someone I loved very much. Someone I wanted to spend my forever with, not long at all.

[tintentrinkerin]

Innocence Lost

Parte One of the Series ‘Hedgehog Dilemma’

Rating: Mature Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Jack eventually Tags: Dysfunctional Relationships, Virginity, Dating Apps, Sexting Mention, Teen Rebellion, Attempted Noncon, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse, Dean has issues, short Jack/OFC, Date Rape Drugs/Roofies, Angelic Powers, Alternative Canon, Canon Bending Summary: Jack is curious about love and sex but none of his foster fathers are helping. Created for @winklinebingo Squares filled: Virginity, Teen Rebellion, Sexting, Dating Apps ~Inspired by Gods and Monsters by Lana Del Rey, but in the version of AESTHETIC PERFECTION~ Seriously, listen to it. It’s amazing.  Word count: 15.6k Read under the cut or on AO3

I Was An Angel

She’s a pretty girl. She really is.

Long curly, glossy hair and she always smells like flowers. Or cherries. Sometimes bubblegum. Jack is very sensitive to sweet smells and tastes and this girl is just a bouquet of the sugary and most flowery things. He likes smelling her and he likes her voice, it always sounds like she’s singing or telling a fairytale. She even has a princess name: Aurora.

Her eyes remind him of Castiel, intense blue with yellow speckles. Jack has read some love poems before, by Shakespeare and Wilde and Rilke and he thought of this girl when he read them. She is love poem perfect.

But, look. Thing is, yes she’s cute, she’s stunning, she’s like a spring breeze and a lot of boys would probably sacrifice a hand to be with her. And Jack is her boyfriend. For about two weeks now.

Jack has no idea how to do this whole relationship thing. He met her when he was about to go buy some bread and pie. He had gone out with his pajama shorts still on and he didn’t even notice. Aurora was behind him in line and when they both were done buying their groceries, she stopped him and whispered in his ear, “You’re still wearing your pajamas!”

The whole which-clothes-when issue was still new to him, that’s why he messed up. And he apologized to her, but she only laughed. And her laughter made him feel better. She made him feel better all around.

Jack didn’t know much of the world. Of course, he already knew a lot. He knew about hunting and friendships, about family and good and evil. He had experienced a lot already.

In theory, he knew about love. He asked Dean about love and sex. The answers haven’t been all too satisfying and there was no intrinsic feeling, no urge for Jack to go out there and find love. Or sex. He’s found Aurora now, that sweet girl, that perfect girl. She liked him a lot, he knew it. Two weeks are enough to fall in love, it seems.

Jack isn’t in love. He knows it. Love feels different. Dean and Castiel both have described for him what love feels like. Their wording has been totally different but it was clear they mean the same thing. And they love each other, despite their differing descriptions.

Why is he with her then?, he asks himself a lot. Because she is nice? She is pretty? She makes him smile? She laughs with him, not at him.

To her, Jack is just a quirky shy boy. He’s not the Spawn of Satan, or a Nephilim, or a Time Bomb. He’s not a tool. Not a weapon. Not an abomination.

He’s just that kid living with these three middle aged weirdos who live in a bunker outside of Lebanon. She never judges.

What is love then?

Jack has an answer to that. He feels butterflies in his stomach, but it took him a while to understand it was a figure of speech. There were no actual butterflies in his stomach. But it was a tingling, a pull, heart pounding in his chest. Sweating. Shaking. Becoming super dumb all of a sudden, because Jack would confuse words, form abstruse sentences and just completely messes it up. He feels all that. He has dreams about this person and his underwear is wet the next morning. He had googled it and it seems to be a normal thing to happen to boys. But he feels embarrassed every time and hates it when someone else does the laundry. He doesn’t want other people to touch his dirty laundry. He also daydreams about kisses, and hugs, and heavy breathing, of noises that sound like Jack’s in pain, but he clearly isn’t.

Sometimes he would stare at the wall for solid minutes before he snaps out of daydreaming or someone catches his attention. Either by door slamming, “Kid, you there?” or - what Dean likes to do - throwing chocolate bars at him. Jack has angel reflexes, nothing ever hits him. Dean knows it.

Jack also has been exposed to “adult magazines” already. Dean seems to hide his magazines all over the bunker and it was just a matter of time til Jack found one and took a close, very close look. He was confused about the nudity first, he was told nudity is for showers, bedrooms and birth apparently. He’s been born naked and Sam told him, babies were born naked. And people got naked when they ‘made love’ but that was something Sam didn’t talk about. Jack had asked, but Sam denied telling him how one ‘makes’ love.

The nudity wasn’t the only thing Jack was astounded about. What these people did looked very, very peculiar. And Jack put the magazine back, when his body from belly button down felt tingly, hot and somehow itchy. Even his ‘down there’ started growing. It got hard. It confused him for a while but when his crotch grew soft, he felt relieved and never looked at something like this again.

Later he found out there was a way to make it go soft ‘down there’ again. He just needs to touch himself and what happens then is bombastic. And messy.

This feeling, love. Was he ‘making’ it? But according to Sam two people were needed to make love together. Feeling it all by his own couldn’t be the same then. Jack was confused.

To add to his confusion, when he was at a case with Dean, Dean had talked about courting and ‘the sex’ and Dean has made fun of him when he came home two weeks ago and announced he had a girlfried.

“Which base? First? Second?”

Sam gave Dean a scowl and a slight punch against the chest.

“Don’t listen to him, Jack. We’re happy for you.”

When he was in his room at night, he barely slept. As a half angel he didn’t need as much sleep as a human. And he knew that Castiel never sleeps. Sometimes they met in the library to talk and play chess or Go. On some other nights when Castiel wasn’t in the bunker or with Dean, Jack would just read whatever came in handy. They had a large library, but Jack was a fast reader and soon he had to download books to his eReader that Sam gave him for his first birthday. But also, this tiny piece of electronics didn’t have enough capacity to download all the books Jack would read in a week, that’s why he asked Sam for a new microSD card for his smartphone. Sam didn’t say no to Jack very often. Jack read Victor Hugo and Jean-Paul Sartre, also Marcel Proust and he had a great time reading Finnegans Wake and Ulysses. He wished James Joyce was still alive, because Jack wanted to tell him what a great and funny piece of literature he had written.

He asked Sam to summon James Joyce.

Sam thought he was messing with him, then said ‘no’.

Jack doesn’t like it when people tell him ‘no’ and that makes it even harder now for him to say no to Aurora.

It’s their second week and she’s so in love with him. Well, that's what she tells Jack. And he likes her pink lips, they look like flower petals and he wonders how they feel.

Exactly what Aurora wants him to do, outside the waffle’s place. She wants to kiss him and she looks pretty, her closed eyes, a tiny raindrop caught in her long eyelashes and she smells of vanilla and there’s still powdered sugar on her chin.

Jack backs away. Her pouty lips look nice and he wants to feel them. With his finger.

When she realizes Jack isn’t leaning in to kiss her, she opens her eyes. She looks hurt.

“Did I do something wrong?”, she asks.

Jack feels incredibly bad about the situation and he doesn’t even know what to say. He can't explain why shies away from a kiss.

He hasn’t been kissed ever before. And he thinks of someone else when he closes his eyes at night, hand under the cover, rubbing himself through the fabric of his pajamas.

“I’m sorry, I…I have never kissed someone before, I’m…I’m nervous.”

That isn't a lie, he tells himself. It’s not a lie. Lying is bad.

“Oh”, she mouths. A perfect O shape with her lips.

“Are you mad at me, Aurora?”, he asks, feeling very bad and guilty.

Jack hates disappointing people and he avoids it at every cost. Usually. But he can’t kiss her, it wouldn’t feel good. He knows, deep down it won’t feel good at all. It won’t be catastrophic, but kissing someone he doesn't like that way is wrong. Sam told him he shouldn’t be physical with people he doesn’t know well. Sam told him he should be physical with someone he really really likes and that more than just as a friend.

Aurora feels like someone more than a friend, but there’s no nocturnal pining for her. That’s for someone else. That’s why he has to go home now, before he makes it even worse with Aurora.

“No, Jack, it’s okay, I didn’t know…I thought…I mean you said you’re 21, I kinda just thought you already have…you know, kissed someone. Or even more.”

Jack raises an eyebrow.

“Even more?”

Aurora hides in her pastel pink scarf.

“Yes, sex, you know?”

With a sigh, Jack looks away and he can feel his face start burning. He has no idea how to have sex, he doesn’t even know exactly what it should be. It was a part of relationships, like Dean and Castiel’s but…all Jack can think about in regards of ‘making love’ and kissing and sex was…Sam.

“I’m not experienced”, he replies, slightly trembling. “I never did it.”

-

Later in the bunker, Jack is sleepless. He would like to sleep this time, because he feels exhausted and hurt. There’s something Aurora said. She said, if he kept people at distance he would never experience love and sex. Even a kiss was a problem already. This view on things was very weird to him. He doesn’t have a problem with kissing or finding out what love is. He just doesn’t want to kiss her. It feels wrong.

She didn’t text him since they departed on unknown terms.

And another thing creeps in his mind. Maybe the problem is that he doesn’t just not like Aurora, maybe he doesn’t like girls at all? And Sam is a man. Maybe he likes men, like Dean does? Dean often talked about women, he seems to like both. Men and women. And Castiel doesn’t even raise a brow when Dean talks about ‘casual sexual encounters’ how Castiel calls them. It’s still unknown territory for Jack.

There are people who like girls, there are people who like men and people who like both…and what if their body doesn’t matter at all?

Jack doesn’t know where the difference should be, except that a man looks different from a woman.

The whole sex thing is driving him up the walls.

He gets up, puts his slippers on and goes to the library. Dean is there, a bottle of whisky in front of him. He doesn’t look deadly drunk, but drunk enough. Sometimes Jack is afraid of Dean when he had too much of this stuff. He can be very mean, aggressive and violent.

Jack braces himself and joins him at the table. Dean looks up. His green eyes are glassy and his face is red.

“Can’t sleep, kiddo?”, he asks, wrapping his gown tighter.

Jack nods.

“No. I was naughty. And now I’m upset.”

Dean’s head jerks up, now Jack has his full attention. The smirk gives it away, Dean will make fun of him for sure.

“Naughty? As in, you finally did sweet lovin’ to her or?”

Jack shakes his eyes, frowning.

“Now, she wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to.”

He sighs, sinks back in the chair, looking at the ceiling. There’s silence, Dean just chugs down the rest of the whisky, but he has another already on hand and opens it.

“Need a sip?”

His first instinct is to say ‘no’, but then he agrees and takes a drink directly from the bottle. Whiskey tastes like paste. He hates alcohol and it doesn’t make him drunk. He could drink ten of these bottles and still wouldn't feel a little thing. He knew that Cas also could drink immense amounts and he never feels even dizzy.

“How do I know if I’m gay?”, he asks and avoids eye contact.

Dean bursts out in laughter. It takes a while for him to calm down again. Jack feels very embarrassed.

“I shouldn’t have asked”, he murmurs and attempts to get up again but Dean stops him.

“Ey sorry. I’ll give you some advice okay? You will know when a man or a woman drives you crazy. Just, I don’t know. Try it. Get Grindr or whatever, chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s eyes are really teary now. That was maybe a little too much.

“Are you okay, Dean?”

“Ya, ‘m fine. No worries.”

Dean is not okay, but Jack has learned his lesson. Dean will always say it’s okay, there’s no problem, I’m fine.

Sam is a lot different from him. He’s strong and calm, his hands are so big and his broad shoulders would be perfect to lean on.

Dean is different. Never at peace, restless. Always on the run from whatever is going on in his head.

“Is Sam…is Sam gay?”

Jack is shocked by his own words. Dean freezes. And then slowly, very slowly turns to Jack. There’s nothing friendly in his face, it’s a grimace.

“No, he’s not, Jack. Never was. Never will be.”

His heart feels like it’s sinking down to Jack’s groin. It hurts. He gets up.

“I should go to bed. Good night.”

“Sleep tight.”

Tonight Jack cries, hugging his moose plush toy.

*

“Grindr or whatever.”

“Chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s statements from that night stick with the poor innocent boy. He rolls these thoughts in his head and they roll from one corner to the other, like marbles. He also dips his tongue in them, tastes them. Makes them slide from his teeth down to his throat. But he never swallows them.

Sam is not gay.

“Never was. Never will be.”

Sam doesn't like men. He doesn’t like boys. And Jack is a boy. Does that mean he has to give up on what he feels? But, what if Jack isn't gay himself? He has no experience. Not with girls, not with boys. He only knows it feels wrong to kiss Aurora. She is one girl of billions. And Sam is just one man of billions.

Maybe, even when Sam is not interested in men, Jack is an exception. He is half angel!

Grindr. Or whatever.

What is Grindr?

Jack didn’t eat this morning, because he  heard Sam and Castiel fighting over something Jack didn’t want to be part of. It was enough to see Dean drink so much, but he wouldn’t participate in any of the tensions that his behaviour caused lately. Dean had told him, he would kill him. Well, maybe he won’t do that anymore now since Jack helped to save the world more than once. He said Jack isn’t family. Maybe he still thinks so. It hurts Jack, because he loves his three father figures and he looks up to Dean. He’s a strong hunter, a leader. He’s the muscle of this team. Sam is the brain. Castiel somehow is the heart. But what is Jack? Always willing to sacrifice himself to make Sam and Cas and Dean love him.

These thoughts are dark enough and going out there and witnessing another fight wasn’t Jack’s favourite start of the day.

He rather hid in his room after showering.

Dean has offered him some breadcrumbs like the ones Hansel and Gretel left to find their way back home from the forest. But he needs to go the other way. He doesn’t need to find his way out of the forest and away from the witch’s gingerbread house. Jack wants to find exactly that.

Wrapped in his towel he sits down on his bed, takes his smartphone and opens a search engine tab. Aurora has texted him but he doesn’t want to reply right now. He feels bad about how he let her down and didn’t kiss her.

He isn’t sure what he is supposed to search for, he just types grinder. Several online shops appear. Obviously it’s a name for a tool to crush herbs and marijuana. Did Dean mean that? He should grind some herbs and perform a ritual? Nah. Dean was drunk, he surely didn’t think that far.

Next step is to look it up in an online dictionary.

It says a lot of things about molars (pressing together with a rotating motion), grinding as a verb to pulverize material, and then something caught Jack’s eye.

to rotate the hips in an erotic manner

Now, that makes sense in a way, that makes Jack blush deeply. It’s a motion he sometimes imagines when he’s hot and aroused. When his body works up, his cheeks hot and his spine tingly. He imagines sitting on Sam’s lap, both kissing and sighing, and then Jack would...grind.

Jack has to put the phone away for a second. Thinking of this clouds his judgement.

After a minute of breathing in and out and trying to tone these thrilling images down Jack is ready to now search for: “Grinder gay men”

The search engine reports “No results for Grinder gay men found. Do you want to search for Grindr gay men instead?”

Jack is irritated about the missing “e”, that’s a typo, right? but he presses the tab ‘yes’.

What pops up now is an article from an online encyclopedia and describes Grindr as a mobile app for gay, bisexual and trans men to chat and meet other men of the same interests.

The second article is a link to his smartphone’s app store, which Jack opens.

Dean wanted him to find this app. To meet other men. Try it. Now it all makes sense! Jack is happy about this. Dean wouldn’t be so mean to him after all!

He downloads the app Grindr - Chats, Meeting and Dating for Gays . The app’s icon is black with an orange mask in the middle. Looks plain but also makes Jack curious.

To use the app Jack has to sign up. Since Castiel once has given him permission to sign up in a social network he just thinks it applies to this stuff too.

There’s a lot of text about privacy, which he just accepts to go further. He signs up with his e-mail address and password. He struggles with his birthday. He tells people he’s 21 years old, which makes his birthday for official purposes May 18th somewhere in the nineties. He has to do some funny verification procedures, the last one is verifying his phone number.

The app wants him to upload a picture of him, and because he doesn’t have any he just takes one. He doesn’t mind that he's naked except the tiny towel around his waist. The first step is easy. He’s Jack, 21 and looking for Chat, Dates, Meeting up and Friends. He wonders why there’s two options for meeting people. One sounds like it’s for impatient people and the other one is for people who are patient. Like Sam. Sam would be patient.

He’s now transferred to the next page. And he now sees a lot of other people using the app it seems. A lot of very muscly men are there. They all like to show their body, but Jack doesn’t really like this. Their nudity even makes him feel icky.

Some men have nicknames like “BigTrunkBear” or “LikeItRough” or “Creamlover”. Jack’s confusion is growing.

There’s also a lot of men having no photo at all, but how should Jack know how they look? Also the photos of legs irritate him.

The app notifies him he needs to complete his profile. There’s some multiple choice questions but also dropdown menus and input masks.

It’s easy for him to type a few sentences about himself.

Jack is as blunt as it could be.

“Hello, I’m Jack. I like nougat, my fathers and shadow show.”

Age and height are no problem, but he has to google what ethnicity is. His skin is pale, then he must be white.

Every question after that is confusing to him. He doesn’t know what “position” (Top, Bottom, Vers) he is, is he a “Bear” or a “Twink”? What is all that?

The confusion grows and Jack closes the app for a moment. He thinks about googling all of it. But then his phone chimes and there’s a text message in the app from a man with the nickname “OralPlesaurer”. Which is funny to Jack, because it’s a typo. And no one’s name in real life is OralPleasurer or Creamlover.

Cream is cool, yeah, whipped on pie. But Jack’s not a lover in the sense of the word. Weird people there.

Jack opens the message, it’s a simple “Hi”.

Jack sends a "Hi" back.

What happens then can only be described as…unexpected.

-

Shinin’ Like A Fiery Beacon

Sam has no suspicions what’s happening in Jack’s mind, but he notices he’s shy around him. Maybe even a little uneasy. The last months have been rough and Sam knows Jack has gone through a lot. Mostly he tried to gain Dean’s trust again, make him and Dean forgive him. But Sam was never mad at him. He couldn’t.

There is a lot in Jack that reminds Sam of himself and that makes it hard for him to look at the situation objectively.

Jack was destined to be a weapon for his father, Lucifer. And Lucifer was a special kind of topic for Sam and it has granted him a very twisted satisfaction that Jack helped to kill him off permanently. Three times. Jack’s struggle with his heritage was something Sam totally understands and yes, of course he also understands why Dean is angry and hurt.

But why does he treat Jack like that still?

Why is he so determined to stick to his anger and his grief? It doesn't even seem like he is trying to get over it, to forgive Jack.

There’s something else on Dean’s noggin’ and Sam knows it, even when Dean doesn’t talk about it. The empty whisky bottles, all the sex with nameless strangers and his risky behavior aren’t new to Sam or Cas.

But that Cas puts up with Dean’s bullshit is astounding. He wouldn’t let that happen. And Sam fights a lot. With Cas. About Dean. With Dean. About Dean. And Cas. And how he treats Jack.

Lately Sam noticed a feeling deep inside of him, flourished for Jack. A gentle, fragile feeling and he didn’t dare to touch this topic. Not even when he was in his room alone at night, rolling around in his bed. It’s a special kind of affection mixed with a frustrating amount of attraction. Sam hates himself for feeling like this. It’s just not right. Jack is nothing like his father, yes, but that's also not the problem. He’s barely 4 years old by now, he came into the world in the body of a young man but little knowledge and childlike naivety. How could Sam take advantage of that? Jack clearly wants to gain his friendship and maybe a platonic kind of love. It’s wrong of Sam to wish for more than that. And that’s why he keeps it hidden and rather tumbles into new fights about Dean’s alcoholism.

It’s his turn to do the cooking today while Cas and Dean are on an investigation and he’s alone with Jack. Sam notices once more that Jack hides in his room a lot, he won’t come out unless Sam calls him to lunch or dinner. Mostly he skips breakfast. So far there’s nothing weird about it, maybe Jack needs some privacy. Sam thinks of his youth with Dean and Dad on the road and how he hated to never be alone.

Taking ‘long showers’ was always suspicious and a lot of things he and Dean did were blurry to him now in his late thirties. When Sam fled to Stanford and finally had a room for himself, actual locks and actual keys for them, doors he could close...it was better than heaven. That’s when he finally could explore what it meant to be a teenager and deal with the rampaging hormones on his own. Also, he could finally be away from Dean’s hypersexual behavior. Maybe Dean thought it was cool to be like this in front of Sam, especially when they as brothers became a little too close and it was his way to dodge the bullet.

In the light of his own memories Sam knows what is happening.

And he’s sure Jack’s kind of blossoming at the moment.

With his super cute and lovely girlfriend, Aurora.

Sam hasn’t met her yet and he has no idea how to react. Of course, he’d be nice and polite and make her dinner and ask her all the nice and polite things for small talk and tell Jack how lucky he is but there’s something primal inside of Sam. Jealousy. He hates being jealous and he has no right to feel that way. One more reason to just let this blooming feeling die and not feed it with anything.

Not with his weird daydreams or the thoughts at night that keep him bothered and not the moments he’s alone in the shower, rubbing one out. Afterwards he’s just more frustrated, instead of feeling any relief.

Sam needs another cup of coffee, a strong one. Before Cas and Dean went out, there had been another argument. It was hurtful. Things were said and then taken back, Cas’ puppy eyes all over, Sam's yelling and Dean almost breaking shit. Like always. Maybe after this one they’d calm down, all of them. Dean and Cas were alone for a while, maybe doing some reconciliation. Sam would be happy for them if they could get over whatever was going on.

In the meantime Sam is just happy with cooking, doing laundry, generally cleaning the bunker and reading. It may sound boring for some people but for him it’s heaven. They’ve had too much going on for fifteen years, some peace is pretty nice and just what he needs right now.

Jack’s an active reader too and he reads the good stuff. Sam educates him about most things he’s comfortable with and he knows he should’ve given the kid ‘The Talk’ already, but Dean kinda started it and Sam is a bit of a chicken regarding this topic. Sex isn’t his favorite thing to talk about. And so far, there seems no reason to rush it, even though Aurora is there. Dean told him about a week ago that Jack has refused to kiss her and if there wasn't anything else going on Sam was unaware of, that was the sexiest thing Jack had achieved so far. A kiss from a girl.

Sam burns his tongue on his coffee because he chugged it too quickly. With a curse he bangs the mug on the table and that’s when Jack walks in. Lately he abandoned his adorable pajamas and wears some of Dean’s and Sam’s old shirts and flannels he grabbed out of the sacks for the clothing drive. That looks wrong in all the right ways, but Sam can’t really say anything about it without letting his guard down. And he won’t let his guard down. Never.

“Morning, Jack”, Sam utters, trying to cool his tongue with a sip of water. “I didn’t expect you to be up that early. Want some porridge?”

Jack looks up at him and there’s still a sleepy veil surrounding him. He seems to be just woken up. He is wearing one of Sam's old shirts, which is too big for him and the sight makes Sam gulp. A little.

“Yes, sounds good.” Jack sits down and yawns in his hand while Sam gets him some porridge and a cup of coffee with a lot of milk in it.

Now Sam notices that Jack carries his smartphone with him, which is unusual. Jack mostly uses it for chatting with Aurora or doing some research but he never carries it around like some other teenagers do who are maybe a little too attached to it. It vibrates a couple of times before Jack takes it and mutes all notifications. He looks…guilty?

“What is it? Is Aurora chatty today?”

Jack looks up and puts a spoonful of porridge in his mouth, shaking his head.

“No, it’s um…it’s nothing.”

Sam is suspicious. Does Jack talk to someone else? Would he need to give him a talk about keeping options open? He doesn’t want to approach the issue by himself, so he rather sits down and eats his breakfast too. Jack seems a bit nervous, always throwing stolen glances at his phone and the screen lights up every couple of minutes. Jack doesn’t reply to any of these messages, he just turns the phone screen down on the table and keeps eating.

The day goes by, Sam just gets cosy in the library. Dean messaged him it’s a vampire nest and he and Cas will hunt them down tonight. Which is a good sign. Sam also told him to take some time off after it, maybe go to Vegas. Dean hasn’t replied yet. It’s a bit selfish but Sam likes the quiet peace in the bunker. They have thought of moving out a couple times but none of them could really think of somewhere else to live. They were hunters after all and so far they didn’t think about retiring. The bunker was still the core of their family. A home. Dean’s and Sam’s home after years on the road or couchsurfing at Bobby’s, the only home Jack knows. Sam even started to make his room look like an actual bedroom. It had been bare and clinical for years when he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea to settle down with Dean. He thought the bunker would maybe one day be taken away from them again.

His phone chimes and Dean promises to be back in a couple of days. Couple of days. That could mean they’re back tomorrow or in a week. But he’s happy that Dean takes the chance anyway.

Sam is totally sucked in by the book he’s reading and he jolts when Jack appears in the library, a hot chocolate in his small hand and a slight disturbed look on his face.

“Sorry, you scared me a little bit”, Sam says and feels bad about it.

Jack only smiles and takes a seat across the table.

“It’s okay. Sam, can I ask you some questions? I wanted to ask Dean, but he’s away and not replying to my texts…”

“Of course. What’s the matter?”

Jack looks up to him, big blue eyes piercings through Sam’s skin. He hates when that happens, Jack has an unsettling effect on Sam. He’s not used to feel like this.

He squirms in his chair now and then with a sigh, Jack takes the phone out of his pocket to place it in front of him. Okay, so there is something up with the phone. Sam was right about it.

“How do I know if I’m gay?”

Jack doesn’t look at Sam, he stares at his phone. Sam can see his ears getting red and Jack just blushes so easily… and also very intense. His face is burning red, Sam would bet his ass on it.

The question itself is nothing Sam would classify as weird. It’s obvious Jack’s going through a phase of finding himself. Contemplating his own sexuality is part of it. Thing is, it makes Sam slightly uncomfortable talking about it. It’s partly because Jack is so young, the other part is that he’s attracted to Jack. Sam didn’t feel attracted to anyone for years and he hates labels. He loves who he loves and he wants to sleep with people he has a strong connection to. And a life as a hunter doesn’t provide much space for a romance to unravel.

How is he supposed to talk about it when he has no idea where to start?

He isn’t a good measure after all.

“Oh, that is as simple as it is complicated”, Sam starts, folding his hands on the table. He takes deep breaths, before he starts to speak.

“First of all, I can only speak for myself and I don’t know if I'm for much use. In regards of sex you really better ask Dean, but since he doesn’t seem to look at his phone at the moment, I will try.”

He has already told Jack about making love instead of sex and Sam has thought about his choice of words and regretted some of it. It sounded way too much like purity culture and Jack shouldn’t think sex was bad. Sexual attraction isn’t bad at all.

It just doesn’t fit for Sam.

“Does your question have anything to do with how you feel about Aurora?”

Jack nods. Slowly, a little unsure.

“She wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to. It didn’t feel right. And I wondered if it has something to do with- I mean- maybe I like boys and not girls?”

His face is so red by now, Sam could swear he feels the heat radiating from the boy.

“There could be several reasons for it, it doesn’t mean you’re gay. Most people kiss and make love because they’re attracted to each other. Attraction is a very tricky feeling. It feels like butterflies in your stomach, heart pounding, you maybe even feel dizzy. That’s when most people say they’re in love. Do you feel that when you are with Aurora?”

Jack shakes his head.

“No.”

“Then maybe, you’re just not in love with her, and that's okay. You will fall in love with another girl in the future. Or you fall in love with a boy, which is also totally fine. Also you can feel attraction to people who don’t fit in the girl/boy categories. It’s all just about how you feel around them and if you want to kiss them. Or go further.”

Sam rubs his hands. He really feels uncomfortable educating Jack about love and sex. Now would be a great moment for Dean to show up and take this conversation.

“You know, Dean likes both. Cas is an angel, I don’t think a concept of gender applies to him at all.”

This is when Jack looks up.

“And what do you like?”

Sam now leans back in his chair, his heart aches a little and he feels heat creeping up his neck. He hates that question.

“Well, Jack…” he sighs heavily, “I don’t care much about gender too. I’m not gay, but I’m not straight either. And I’m also not bisexual, like Dean. It’s hard to say. When I like someone, I like them and I don’t see gender. Boy, girl, queer, it doesn’t matter.”

Now Jack takes a long, careful sip of his hot chocolate. His smartphone chimes again and Sam just has to ask.

“Do you think you’re gay, because you didn’t want to kiss Aurora or is there something else on your mind?”

He knows it’s not his business but he also takes it very seriously to be a good role model, be a father figure to Jack. When Jack needs help, Sam will provide it. Same goes for Cas and sometimes even Dean has his bright moments of fatherhood.

It’s obvious Jack doesn’t want to answer right away, he looks like he is tasting words in his mouth, rolling them over his tongue, putting them in his cheeks for a moment, before he says something that surprises Sam.

“There is something else. A man asked me out, but he asked me things I don’t understand.”

Sam stiffens.

“A man? How old?”

Jack shrugs.

“Couple years older than Dean maybe?”

Now Sam leans forward, skeptical and on alert.

“What do you mean, he asked you out? Where? How?”

Jack now shows Sam his phone and Sam recognizes the push messages. The icon is black with an orange mask in the center.

Oh no, that’s not good. Like absolutely bad.

“On this app. He lives close and he asked me if I like bareback? But I don’t know what he means with that. Does he want to go horse riding with me on a date?”

Sam can’t help but laugh. It’s a diminished, unhappy sound.

“No, he doesn’t want to go horse riding with you, Jack. He wants to have unprotected sex with you.”

You Got That Medicine I Need

“What do you mean by… that he wants to have unprotected sex with me?”,  Jack asks.

He was utterly confused about this statement and how Sam came to that conclusion. There’s so much he doesn’t know and so many things he got wrong. Sam also doesn’t help much with his shooting questions and… things like this. Jack furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head.

“You have to delete this app and stop talking to these creeps.”

Sam looks very upset and Jack doesn’t get why.

“Answer my question please, what is bareback then? Sam, why do you think he’s a creep? He seems actually nice, he says he likes my eyes and my lips, look!”

He shows his phone again to Sam and he just takes it. Then Sam gets up and starts fumbling on the screen, his eyes narrow. Jack knows this kind of facial expression, he usually sees it when Sam is upset with Dean. Should Jack maybe tell Sam it wasn’t his own idea to install the app? Would that help? Would he then be mad at Dean? But Jack doesn’t want that either, he wants Dean to like him.

“Jack, it’s gay slang. And this guy”, his voice rises in irritation and suppressed anger, “he looks fishy. Why the hell do you use these apps anyway? You’re with Aurora and… you have no idea about sex yet, casual dating shouldn’t be something you … you like. What is this all about? Jack?”

Jack feels like he’s shrinking to a tiny puddle of shame under Sam’s piercing eyes, his sharp voice and how his chest heaves. He’s also annoyed at the same time. It’s his fathers’ fault he knows so little about sex and how to court people, no one really feels responsible to help him with it, except Dean! Jack looks up to Sam, even when it hurts right now, he hates it so much when Sam is angry. And he feels like he was a dog that took a shit on the carpet and now has to feel utterly guilty for… having essential needs?

That it’s Sam who tells him to stop makes it even worse. He’s trying to figure out what he feels for Sam, it’s hard enough to see him all day and feel this tickly, hot and cold feeling all over his body and only be able to release it in the silent darkness of his room, quietly moaning and thinking of Sam kissing his tummy and thighs… and even more. Jack feels all the heat building up inside him, it makes his skin crawl and his eyes tear up.

“I want to know if I’m gay or not!”, he says, way louder than intended. “And Dean said it’s a good idea to meet up with men and find out what I like!”

Sam stiffens, chest heaving even harder when he drops his hands and bangs them on the table.

“Dean told you to install this app?”, he asks. Voice dangerously gentle.

“Yes.”

Jack crosses his arms, defensively.

And then Sam nudges the smartphone back to Jack. He looks so angry while appearing so calm, apart from his deep breathing. Jack can see the breath vibrate in Sam’s chest and he wishes so badly to lay his head there and hear Sam’s heartbeat, feel his pulse and how his chest moves while breathing.

Sam’s mouth is a firm little line before he speaks.

“I guess Dean didn’t think his advice through, Jack. This app and many others are made for casual sex and hook ups, and I wouldn’t let you meet any of these guys you’re talking too. You could get hurt”, he then combs through his long hair, fishing for words, “You know that there’s people out there who want harm. It’s too dangerous. Delete it.”

Jack doesn’t attempt to take the phone again, looking at Sam, angry himself.

“No. I need to find out who I am and you keep on handling me with kid gloves!”, he says, voice raised and aggressive.

This is when Sam slams the table with his fist. “It’s because you are a fucking kid and I don’t want you to be whoring around!”

Wow.

That feels like a punch in the guts. Jack knows what a whore is. He has googled it after Dean has told ‘whore stories’ at the dinner table when Sam was out with Cas once.

His eyes tear up heavily and there’s a choked sob before Jack grabs his phone and gets up.

“I’m not a whore, Sam. But good to know you think of me like this.”

Sam's frozen solid for a couple seconds, can’t act on anything but wants to. Jack fumbles on his phone with shaking hands and then shows Sam.

“See, app deleted. No ‘whoring around’ for me.”

And then Jack storms off. Sam calls out after him “Jack, I’m sorry, please come back!” But Jack doesn’t come back. He grabs his jacket and goes outside. He needs some time alone.

*

In the evening, alone in his room, Sam is extremely downhearted. He tried to talk to Jack later, when he came back into the bunker. He even came up to Sam himself to show him the app was still gone, but didn’t talk anymore. Of course Sam apologized every time they saw each other, but Jack didn’t react.

Damn, he has fucked up so hard this time. And he can’t even lie to himself saying it was just a stupid thing he said. That he didn’t think. Well, he really didn’t think at that moment. There was just … that moment, that hot red moment of possessiveness, of jealousy. And this fata morgana of pure, asexual Jack that Sam could protect and nuture, versus this dark fucked up desire to kiss him, ruin the literal angel. Be the one to show him love.

To show him how Sam could make him feel, make him come in thousands of ways. Sam’s so touch starved and drawn to Jack and he is so endlessly ashamed of it. It’s not right, he keeps telling himself. It’s wrong to feel attracted to a child. To the child of his rapist. Even Sam cries in bed sometimes, like today. He cries about his stupid words, about how he hurt Jack and how filthy he feels all the time in contrast to the pure and utter arousal picturing the nephil in his bed, sweat covered and hot and willing and moaning Sam’s name when he spills all over his firm stomach.

Fuck. Holy fuck . This is so bad.

*

Jack retreated in the forest for a while, listening to angry music on his phone, kicking sticks and stones around till he reached the pond where he just sat down, stared at the glistening surface for an hour or two. He cried a little, too. Sam’s words have hurt him incredibly. Sam is Jack’s role model and the person he wishes to be closest with. And that Sam, especially Sam implies Jack ‘whored’ was so excruciating, that his half human body even threw up the rest of dinner. With his knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in his eyes he cried and cried, before the childlike side in him started rebelling again. Sam has hurt him, but Jack still wants to know what’s wrong with him. Why he feels for Sam, and if it’s because he’s male… or because he’s Sam.

The feeling hurt even more now, it even hurts now when he’s in bed, staring at the ceiling, still listening to angry yelly music. His body is terribly worked up again, but now Jack reinstalls the app, his profile is still there. He doesn’t know what to do with the old guy who wanted to ‘bareback’ him but he had googled it while staring at the pond and Sam was indeed right. But this old sack wasn’t the only guy Jack was in touch with, there was also Hunter, 25, from Gilead, Kansas. Jack likes the name hunter, because him and his fathers are hunters and hunters are mostly good people. He also likes the name of the city where he’s from, Gilead. It refers to a mystical place in the Bible , which he read a couple times already, but also was the name of the USA in the novel The Handmaid’s Tale by Atwood, which he loved too. And Hunter is nice, very nice and when Sam demanded Jack to delete Grindr, Jack was afraid Hunter would be mad if he didn’t reply to his last message.

But of course Jack wants to reply to Hunter, and there’s two new messages from Hunter which he answers quickly. He gives Hunter his phone number and then decides to delete the app really, just in case Sam wants proof again. Which Jack would maybe deny next time, he is so sick of being treated like a child. Because he’s not. His body is fully developed, and he knows a lot about the world. He knows facts, but it’s hard to find out about all the social stuff. Jack feels alien most of the time, because he has intimidating powers and his angel self works different from his human self. He just has too little experience in human and social interaction and Sam even tries to take away the chances Jack could have to be better at being a human being, which is the side he picked long ago. He wants to be human. Normal. And he wants to be accepted, respected and loved. Not patronised and cared for like a baby. Of course, he knows. He’s defiant and petty but he’s tough and brave enough to learn more about the world and love.

Aurora isn’t forgotten, he feels bad when he thinks of her, but she also didn’t reply to his last message. Which makes it easier to attach to Hunter, who says in his profile he’s a “vers bottom” (and since no one seems to care about giving Jack a proper talk he googled it and now is indeed in the picture what that means), wants to find true love and relationships. His favourite movies are Star Wars and Lord of the Rings and he likes novels like Lord of the Flies and Fahrenheit 451. He sounds so intelligent and nice, Jack trusts him already after a few days of texting. He seemed able of critical thought and he liked books Jack also liked and they spent a day just talking about religious imagery in The Great Gatsby . But yeah, Jack was totally whoring around. Surely.

Tonight he’s too hurt to let his usual thoughts of Sam go too far, instead he opens his messenger app and he doesn’t have to wait very long after messaging Hunter to get a reply.

Jack smiles when Hunter asks if he is in bed already and what he’s thinking of. Jack texts back he thinks of a certain dark haired, brown eyed man he likes. Hunter looks a bit like Sam and Jack can lie to himself casually here. The texts turn hotter with every turn and Jack’s heart starts pacing, his hand sliding under the seam of his underwear while he reads Hunter’s latest message, describing how he would undress Jack, kiss him and let his hand wander where Jack wasn’t touched by anyone else than himself so far.

In the morning he feels way better. Hunter’s messages have given him some very nice moments of pleasure but he also feels a little guilty. He hasn’t replied to the hot messages because he’s a total newbie and doesn’t even know what he likes himself. When he told Hunter in the night he’s a virgin, Hunter was very nice and understanding and told Jack he doesn’t have to reply if he feels insecure.

This sort of validation is something Jack wants to have from Sam but after what Sam said and how deeply it impacted Jack’s trust in him, he tried to let go of this hope. Sam thinks he’s a child. Or a whore. Or both. Jack knows about Nabokov’s Lolita and wonders if Sam thinks he raised him to be seductive to old creeps like the bareback guy.

One way or the other, Jack is hurt and pissed off, but overall he feels better and steadier today, his ego is petted very thoroughly by Hunter. Maybe one day Jack won’t need Sam’s approval and affection anymore. Seems a nice thought today.

When Jack gets dressed he sneaks up to the kitchen and he can hear from across the floor already Sam is talking to someone. He’s loud, his voice full and usually Jack likes how deep, low and growly Sam can sound when he’s in some kind of situation he’s passionate about, no matter if positive or negative.

But this sounds like he’s yelling at Dean and that’s never good.

“Why the actual fuck did you tell Jack to install a gay hook up app, are you out of your rotten mind? He took your word for it and now I am the one who had to clean up this mess!... Yes, he used it and a guy he talked to wanted to meet up and bareback…. Jesus FUCKING Christ Dean that’s not funny-- stop fucking laughing! He could be hurt! You’re such an asshole. I wonder why you fucking hate the kid so much, after all he did for us!... No, I didn’t forget about mom, never will. But you know it wasn’t him. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings right now... Leave the child alone or I swear you’ll regret it!”

A long silence. Jack counts from 50 downwards and stops at 7, when Sam’s voice rises again.

“Yeah you better. Gimme Cas, I need a word with him.”

Jack has heard enough. “The kid”. “Clean up a mess”. “The child”.

Mary Winchester.

He’s suddenly not hungry anymore and retreats to his room, where his smartphone vibrates the moment he closes the door. It’s Hunter, of course.

Looking To Get Fucked Hard

It takes Jack a day and a half after the phone call to make the first move towards Sam and accepts his apology, which is very well-considered, diplomatic and remorseful. He still feels very hurt by Sam’s words and the fight over the phone with Dean also didn’t help him look over the fact that Sam has a certain edge in his voice when it comes down to explaining ‘adult stuff’ to Jack. Jack, who is naturally curious and eager, but also blunt and innocent, doesn’t quite understand what his problem is. When Jack hears Dean talk about sex with several people, sometimes at once, it doesn’t sound like something he feels ashamed of. He’s even proud of it.

But Sam is so much more secretive and retreats from any question Jack has from now on. Is sex something bad? And why does he think Jack is acting like a promiscuous person for talking with people online?

It takes another five days in which Jack secretly talks to Hunter over his messenger app and Jack avoids looking at his phone when Sam is around. He doesn’t want to get in another argument again but he also likes the way Hunter makes him feel. Even though Jack is a virgin and inexperienced, Hunter takes him seriously. He treats Jack like an actual adult, with adult needs and adult opinions and an adult body, that is longing for another human’s touch. Jack kind of came to the conclusion that being in love with Sam won’t go anywhere good, not after all the things Sam has said to him. And how he thinks of Jack. As a child, something he has to protect and nourish but for God’s sake don’t touch it.

Jack doesn’t want protection. He wants to be loved as a man, even though he’s barely a man now.

Sam’s apology doesn’t change his way of thinking about Jack.

Damn, why does he have to be in love with Sam, from all people? Maybe it would be even easier with being in love with Dean. Scruffy, grumpy, spiteful, asshole, loyal, troubled, vulnerable Dean?

Is that maybe any better?

But even Dean doesn’t take him seriously as someone who has needs. He gave Jack this damn idea about the app and he probably knew it would cause Jack trouble when Sam found out.

Over the next days Cas and Dean don’t show up and Sam is worried even when he tries to hide it behind research and angry texts and treating Jack even more than a kid. Makes him his favourite food and drinks, even lets him drink some beer.

It makes Jack feel even more like someone you need to treat like a timid fawn.

Does nobody see that Jack is no fawn anymore? That he’s ready to grow, that he has intimate, sexual urges. He is prospering for everyone to see, but Sam just squeezes his damn eyes shut and Dean makes fun of him.

And Castiel probably doesn’t even know what it all means because he’s a full grown celestial angel, or an ‘eldritch horror’ as Dean sometimes puts it.

Time to sow his wild oats.

After a week of absence it seems clear, Cas and Dean are either having a good time or they’re getting lost somewhere in a brothel or a casino or whatever humans do in Las Vegas. Sam doesn’t tell Jack where exactly they are, but Jack thinks they got somewhere to also let off some steam.

Jack decides to meet with Hunter, after they had some very thrilling conversations at night. It’s mostly that Jack still imagines Sam when he touches himself but Hunter is giving him a lot of things to think about. He doesn’t feel that naive and innocent anymore, now that someone tells him he’s hot, he’s cute, he’s desirable. He is equal.

No more thinking of ‘down there’s and that kissing is oh so sacred. It’s a change that would scare Jack if he wasn’t so eager to show off to Sam he was mature enough to be treated equally. Hunter presses the right buttons. And all of them at once.

Jack wants to know how it feels to kiss, to be touched in places, he even wants to touch someone else. And if he keeps telling himself it’s Sam, while he’s with Hunter, he might even enjoy it more. They look so much alike, or at least how Jack thinks Sam looked when he was way younger. Maybe Hunter’s smaller, and what Jack saw from his body wasn’t that defined and muscular, but he can dream. His imagination is going strong.

His hormones and his contact with another man who shows interest in him make Jack cocky.

They set the date already two days after the fight with Sam and today is the day. Sam and Jack still don’t spend much time together and in the morning Sam announced he will be doing some inventory in a room he was able to unlock with a smell Rowena left him. He told Jack about shelves full with old scripts and mason jars labelled with ‘icky stuff’ and he thinks that in no way the Man of Letters Cuthbert Sinclair would’ve left such a mess and vague labels. Icky could mean a lot.

Jack doesn’t mind and tells Sam he wants to read The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann.

“That’s a piece of work, Jack”, Sam says, a little proud maybe. “I never made it through it.”

“Well I read some articles about it already and I’m very interested about the portrayal of eroticism, life and death.”

He can’t leave it. He has to tell Sam about the sex stuff he’s interested in. The protagonist of the novel is said to be bisexual and Jack would really like to read it.

But not today, he will drive to Gilead to meet Hunter, as soon as Sam will drown in his inventory.

“You also should focus on the motif of time and its correlation with life and death”, Sam says, ignoring the eroticism. He’s unapproachable with the issue at all. It drives Jack up the walls, since his hormones, hurt ego and the cockiness took over his thinking.

“Thrilling.”

Jack means it sarcastically and catches a glance from Sam that he can’t quite ignore. The tension between them grows weirder every day instead of resolving.

He gets up now, he needs to shower and get ready soon.

Jack doesn’t know why, but there pops up a thought in his head. About making love.

He wouldn’t do that today. In his nightly thoughts he still couldn’t wrap his head around the difference.

Of course he’d never admit it, but Jack still knows nothing about love but that he feels something for Sam that comes pretty close.

Sam knows something’s off. That something is still off. Jack is reserved, but sometimes also irritating. Passive aggressive. Mopey. Yes, of course, Sam has apologized as often and honestly as he could but nothing seemed to help Jack and him to find a common ground again. He understands Jack wants to be treated differently, like something he isn’t just yet in Sam’s eyes. It’s his need for being the guardian that doesn’t let him treat Jack like an adult. Let him drink whiskey, watch porn, have sex. The contradiction of his own sexual attraction to Jack and the need for control and guidance drives Sam up the walls too and he has no one he could talk to about it. Dean is distant in his own manner, he’s fled with Cas and after Sam had yelled at him over the phone about letting Jack use this sex app there’s radio silence. Just a quick heads up from Cas now and then. Sam feels like the trip for just the two of them isn’t helping the way he wished for.

This is why he needs to do the damn inventory. Keep himself busy. Think about something else than Jack being a little jerk all of a sudden, Dean’s whiskey consumption and Castiel’s helplessness. Is Castiel even helpless? Or does he just pretend he doesn’t see something is terribly off? Being alone with Jack makes it really rough. Either Jack’s too close, or he’s too reserved, there’s no balance at the moment, and in his mind, it’s also either Jack grinding on his lap or Jack, far away with Aurora or that nasty creep from the app.

Gladly he’s deleted it and they didn’t need to have a talk about it again. Sam would be furious if Jack lied to him. Furious, because he’s jealous, helpless and sexually gone rogue.

Why is it so wrong to feel this way?

In the storage room there’s utter chaos and Sam will probably spend two days in here. Today, he embraces chaos. Chaos is good, because he can break it down and bring it into an order. His order. His system. He even brought instrumental music to have something to drown his own dark, sorrowful and horny thoughts. It will get over soon. He won’t be crossed in love with Jack forever. He can push through this.

But does he really want to?

Sam is so busy with tidying up that weird room that he doesn’t notice anything else is going on. Jack can hear faint flute music across the halls when he sneaks around. He has put on his best shirt, ripped stone washed jeans and a leather jacket that Dean inherited to him. Involuntarily, because he actually wanted to throw it away and like some old shirts, Jack just picked it up and kept it.

He also did his hair the way Sam said once, it looks good on him. Then maybe Hunter would like it, too?

Jack takes one of the keys for the Volvo in which Sam had taught him to drive.

Ironic. Sam lets Jack drive, but God forbid he does other adult things!

With the key in his shaking, sweaty hands Jack sneaks off to the carpool garage. The Volvo is purple and has two scratches (long ones) from Jack’s driving lessons, but Jack owns the shame about it now. He unlocks it, gets inside and opens the navigation app on his phone. It says he will be on the road for around 90 minutes, which is okay. He has brought an audiobook, three bottles of water, some protein bars and a charger for his phone. Better to have a fully charged phone, Sam says. Not everything Sam says is bull, even when it feels to Jack like it. He’s gone through a lot of feelings for Sam lately, one of them was anger because he also felt like Sam would patronise him in the most hypocritical way. As if he didn’t try stuff out when he was younger! Dean has told a story or two. But Dean also said Sam’s not gay and that’s not completely true, he found out. Sam is about the person, not gender. So, yes, he’s not gay. But he’s also not straight. If he was just in love with Jack, too. It would be so easy and Jack wouldn’t be so worked up about it.

Jack tries to shoo the thoughts away when he texts Hunter that he’s on his way, but of course he can’t. Sam is always on his mind.

*

If Sam knew he caused a moderately severe teenage rebellion and a sexuality crisis, he probably would’ve never said such bad things to Jack, and he would’ve tried to reconcile even harder. But this way he’s wound up in his inventory distractions, trying to shut the whole issue out.

Sam jerks up when he hears a noise from the hall. It’s probably just Jack walking around. Maybe the damn Magic Mountain and its discourse about damn eroticism was too much for Jack and he looks for something else to read. Sam sees him with all the heavy stuff actually. He read the Iliad , the Odyssey , the complete works of W. B. Yeats and the baroque geste The Fairie Queene by Edward Spenser in the Middle English original and he wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks. Sam has a hard time reading this epic poem, it’s complicated and he feels like he needs to have graduated in literature or linguistics to make sense of it. The problem is, Sam is maybe smart, but Jack is a fucking genius. Sam hates to admit it but the kid is so smart, he outwits Sam vertiginous ly. There’s not much Sam can actually teach him but what he can teach he doesn’t want to. Sex for example. But Dean is a shitty substitute and maybe, yeah, maybe Sam should do it. It will be embarrassing and awful but Dean would drag Jack to a fetish club or something and he can’t let that happen. It’s enough that his three father figures all are a bit weird, Jack could end up like a vanilla type of person and do something remotely decent for a change.

Maybe he should consider giving Jack some sappy romance novel, some light fare. Something that won’t stimulate Jack’s curiosity about the deep endless pits of the human mind, or human sexuel desires. Something that would scratch surfaces but not go too deep. Nora Roberts maybe, but when Sam thinks about it he remembers her novels as repetitive, and not without a problematic approach of gender dynamics, masculinity and love.

Damn. Now he’s thinking about Jack again.

It will never stop.

Sam considers a break. Just to get himself a sandwich, maybe sit together with Jack and give him another honest and more straight forward talk about how and why Sam is the way he is and why he is so different from Dean. He’s pretty sure he’s given very honest and clear answers to Jack’s questions before they had that stupid fight. Labels really aren’t Sam’s jam, but maybe Jack feels better to know labels and then decides they fit or they don’t. And Jack should know that Sam has been vulgar, unfair and downright wrong with his wording and with patronising him like that. It was not his place to send him to his room like a stubborn kid. He kind of realizes now, that Jack is so much more. He deserves a chance to understand the complex dynamics of human interaction in any kind and Sam should let him.

On his way to the kitchen he hears even more clanking of plates, a running coffee maker and sizzling. It smells like steak.

This is weird. Jack doesn’t like coffee. Jack also doesn’t know how to make a steak, that’s Dean’s thing.

Dean’s thing.

Oh no. Sam hurries to the kitchen, before Jack maybe sets something on fire and when he appears in the doorframe, calling out for Jack a very confused Castiel and Dean are in the kitchen, Dean almost drops the hot pan. Cas jerks in surprise and burns his hand with hot coffee.

“Jesus Fuck, Sam! You scared the living shit outta me!” Dean exclaims, looking confused.

Cas wipes his burnt hand clean of the spilled hot coffee.

“Why are you here?”, Cas asks and looks at Sam.

Sam is just as confused as they are at that point.

“Better question is, why are you two here? I thought it was Jack in the kitchen.”

He doesn’t even have time to be relieved about seeing Dean in good condition. He really looks good and relaxed. But at his brothers’ question he raises his eyebrows and turns off the stove.

“I, uh, actually sent you a message a couple hours ago we’re comin’ home Sammy. Enough Vegas. You didn’t reply and then when we parked Baby in the garage, the Volvo wasn’t there. That’s why we” - Dean gestures to Cas - “deduced you and Jack are maybe going somewhere and you didn’t check your messages.”

Sam’s confusion grows. “No, we didn’t go anywhere. I unlocked a secret storage room right on the way down to the pool areas and I’m doing inventory. Jack is in his room. He reads some old dusty Thomas Mann novel, because he’s into phalluses all of a sudden.”

Dean coos a laugh and Castiel clears his throat. Then all three get a glimpse on the fact that something may be wrong here.

“Well, if we’re all here, who took the Volvo?”, Cas asks, silently healing his burn.

Sam could swear Dean mumbles a “son of a bitch” under his breath before he says: “Well, not everyone is here. We should look for Jack.”

Jack isn’t in his room. His shoes and his shoulder bag are gone. The Volvo keys are missing. The situation is pretty clear. Jack has gone somewhere and didn’t tell Sam.

Son of a bitch.

Screwed Up, Scared, Doing Anything That I Needed

The date doesn’t quite go as Jack imagined it to go. Hunter is indeed the man he texted with, but he’s only ever seen the chest or his face and now Hunter looks distinctively older than he claimed on Grindr to be. Jack is too shy to ask him about it, he feels like it’s maybe rude. Hunter has used an old photo on Grindr, that’s for sure. They sat down in a bar anyway, it’s fall and it’s dawning already. Hunter offers to buy Jack drinks and given the fact Jack wouldn’t get drunk he accepts.

But Hunter seems weird. The conversation stops a couple of times and he asks a lot about Jack’s love life, but Hunter knows already, he’s inexperienced, right?

After an hour and two cocktails Jack retreats to the toilet to wash off the weird feeling he has. Hunter is nice to him, there’s no reason for him to be more suspicious. Maybe Hunter was just embarrassed because he’s lost some hair already, and the started balding on the back of his head. When Jack turns around, he gets stuck at the restroom’s stalls door and his phone nosedives in the sink where the water is still running.

“Oh shoot!”, Jack cries out. That can’t be real right now!

He tries to dry off the phone best as he can but he knows it will be best to turn it off and put it in rice. He has no idea about how to get home though and he kind of wants to go home soon. There’s no connection to Hunter as he wished there would be.

Back in the bar Hunter awaits him with what he calls a Gin Tonic. Jack chugs it down and he doesn’t like the taste at all.

“Oh you can take a lot!”, Hunter says and Jack gets the idea that he isn’t amused about how much Jack can drink.

“Yes, I umm, maybe it’s my very fresh liver”, Jack says, but he doesn’t go any further.

“Look, Hunter. You are a nice person, but I don’t feel a real connection. I’m very sorry”, Jack says, being very guilty of wasting the man’s time.

Hunter shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about it, Jack, we just wanted to meet and find out, right? But would you be so kind and ask the barista for his number for me? He seems to be flirting but I’m shy, as you may have … noticed.”

Jack is a bit irritated, but he wants to do the man a favor and agrees. “I wanted to order a coke anyway”, Jack says, getting up. “Do you want something more?”

The older man just gives him a crooked smile.

“Nah, I’m good, champ.”

Champ. Who says champ?

Jack goes over to the bar where the barista (tall, handsome, eyeliner and old school tattoos, maybe as old as Jack passes with). As innocent as he still is in his rebellion he asks him about his name and number.

“Who do you want that for?”, the barista asks him, pouring him a glass of coke.

Jack hates lying, that’s why he points over to Hunter with his thumb.

“My date over there.”

The barista huffs and shakes his head.

“No, but if you want my number I’ll give it to you.”

Jack declines.

“That is very nice of you, but I’m already in love with someone and I think I won’t be with anyone else very soon.”

“I’m Baz, if you change your mind”, that’s when the barista gives him a slip of paper with his instagram URL on it.

“Thank you, Baz”, Jack smiles at him and waves when he takes the coke in his hands and goes back to Hunter.

He’s on the phone, texting someone and Jack just remembers he maybe needs to get a phone call or some maps print to find his way home. His phone shouldn’t be turned on again and he should maybe call Sam to pick him up. That’s really a dumb situation he’s in. Hunter doesn’t look up at first but eventually does and Jack sits down.

“I’m sorry, he’s not interested”, Jack says and takes a sip of his coke.

Hunter sighs but he kind of doesn’t look all too disappointed. “Thanks for the effort though.”

“Hunter, I have a little problem, my phone got wet in the restroom and I need to print a map or call my dad to fetch me here.”

That’s something he seems to like hearing and Hunter relaxes.

“Not a problem, you can come home with me, it’s not far. You can use my printer if you like and I can give you a bag and some rice to put your phone in. It’s no big deal.”

Jack sighs in relief and relaxes a bit. It’s dark outside already, the kind of darkness, that’s not all consuming, but creepy enough. Jack doesn’t like being outside alone for too long and he’s glad Hunter is willing to help.

He wants to pay for himself, this is why Jack gets up and pays his drinks at the register. When he’s back he exes his coke, that tastes strangely bitter this time and maybe it’s just some residual from the cleaning agent. Hunter smiles and gets up too to pay. Jack buttons up his jacket and they leave the bar together.

The air is crisp and there’s a hint of rain. Jack can taste the drops already.

The walk is a little longer than expected and when they arrive at the house, Jack finally gets suspicious. Hunter claims to live on the second floor, and there’s light in two of the rooms. Did he leave his lights on? That is wasting resources and Sam doesn’t like it when Jack would leave the lights on.

Jack doesn’t give it any more thoughts. Somehow Jack feels a bit icky now, there’s a bitter taste in his mouth and his sight is getting a tiny bit blurry, frayed on the edges. Hunter lets him in.

“If you like, you can wait here for a second, I uh, I think I didn’t tidy up very well, I didn’t think we’d come home”, Hunter says, giving Jack a crooked smile. The apartment is tiny, the fitted kitchen just has a small fridge and two hot plates. There’s a microwave and an electric kettle, a toaster and a coffee maker. All in all it looks tidy, but worn, the wallpaper of the corridor looks yellow-ish and it smells of cigarettes. Jack doesn’t like it when people smoke and he’s glad none of his dads do so. Hunter hurries to a door that maybe leads to the living room and sleeping room. Jack has very good senses and he doesn’t feel like he’s alone. There’s footsteps and breathing and the smell of something clinical.

Jack needs to lean against the counter of the kitchen unit and close his eyes. He feels uneasy, something is wrong and he knows he should go. His body feels heavy and his thoughts delay.

And that’s when Jack can hear another man as clear as a bell saying something to Hunter.

“Dude, why did you bring him here? He’s still conscious!”

Then Hunter.

“I had no choice, I gave him the whole bottle. That shit could kill an elephant but he’s still walking straight. I had no idea what to do!”

“You fucking retard!”

This is so loud now, Jack would even hear it if the men didn’t whisper. Jack knows he should react much faster but he feels like he’s walking through water when he reaches for the door and opens it.

And what he sees is nothing he expected.

Jack’s phone is dead.

“What do we do now?”

Sam is clearly panicking and Dean is moderately concerned now, too. Cas kind of holds his shit together, but he also worries.

The angel also is the one to make first assumptions.

“Every of our cars has a GPS tracker, right? We can find him like this, we just have to consult the app.”

Sometimes it sounds like Cas thinks there’s a breathing person on the other end of the line looking the GPS signal up for him, but neither Sam or Dean really bother to make fun of him for a change.

“This is my fault.”

Sam of course blames himself. He has been unfair to Jack, he even insulted him. Something that Sam would never do. If he was still a bit sane, but he seems like his feelings for Jack just turn him inside out. But then he looks at Dean, who really makes a guilty face right now and Sam has an idea.

“No, actually it’s your fault, Dean. You told him about the damn app. We had a fight about it and a couple days later he sneaks out? He must’ve kept contact with someone.”

Dean frowns and crosses his arms, defensively.

“Well I didn’t expect him to pull it off, I mean the boy is clearly in love with you, Sam. I thought that would help him enough through his identity crisis.”

Sam just ignores Dean’s suggestion, Jack would be in love with Sam. Sam would know that, right? He would notice, if Jack was seeking his attention? And given the nature of their relationship that would be absolutely inappropriate.

As inappropriate as his own feelings for Jack.

“Stop making fun of him, I swear, I’ll strangle you myself if something happened to him.”

“Whatever.” Dean says and shrugs. “I know I’m right about that. You should’ve just, dunno, give him a hand or so.”

“You’re unbelievable!”

Before Sam could really reach out and knock his brother unconscious, Castiel interferes. Physically and vocally.

“Sam, Dean. This isn’t helping. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is that Jack is gone, we need to find him. The GPS app says the car is parked in Gilead, Kansas. That’s about an hour and a half away from here. I turned on angel radio, but Jack isn’t responding. Something has happened. We need to go. I’ll zap us to the car and from there, I can maybe sense him. We have no time for rituals. Let’s hope, he’s okay.”

Sam feels like he is about to collapse and cry his heart out. Jack is out there and maybe he’s in danger.

Life Imitates Art

What is irritating Jack the most isn’t the camera on a tripod in front of the bed. It’s also not the three strange guys surrounding the bed or Hunter’s surprised and frightened face. It is the tarp spread over the mattress. A black shiny huge tarp and Jack doesn’t have a single idea why it should be there. His vision shifts slightly and there’s a distant ringing in his ears.

“What is..?” Jack wants to ask but the sentence won’t leave his mouth completely.

Of course, even he gets now he’s been tricked into something. He’s been so incredibly stupid.

“Come on, boy, just relax”, one of the men says and Jack recognizes the voice.

It’s the one who called Hunter a retard and complained about Jack still being conscious. That’s why the coke tasted like soap. Hunter tried to drug him!

The man comes closer now, Jack smells his sharp and heavy aftershave and his head is spinning. Gladly, Jack is half angel and the drugs didn’t knock him out. That’s why Hunter gave him too much it seems. He isn’t going to faint or something but Jack is clearly handicapped and when a second guy also comes closing in Jack looks for a way out, but Hunter behind him locks the door. He looks around, panicking, but all he sees is an XXL bottle of massage oil and sex toys. Oh holy shit.

“Don’t come near me!”, Jack says, retreating, but nudging Hunter with his back and Hunter grips his arms. “Don’t touch me!”

Jack knows how it is to be afraid, but this is a whole new level of fear. He fears for what these men will do to him if he doesn’t manage to get out. The familiar sensation of his powers start tickling. First in his stomach, then his arms and then a piercing pain behind his eyes.

“I said, don’t touch me! ”

The men won’t stop but one of them is looking at him like he’s a ghost.

“What is happening with his eyes?”, he yells. “Shit, something’s wrong with his eyes!”

This must be the moment Jack’s eyes start glowing golden, like they do when Jack is in a state of emotional distress and he does good so. Because the next thing Jack feels is like his chest is erupting.

“No one touches me!”

And then the world turns red.

Castiel drags Sam and Dean across the city, all three of them panicking. The Volvo is abandoned, parked in the city but no sign of Jack. They have no idea where to look first and Cas’ doesn’t receive any signal from Jack, and, well, you can see he’s trying very hard to get even a tiny bit of information.

Dean and Sam are still yelling at each other, like that’s helping anyone right now! But Cas is too focused, too worried to care about the mortals fighting like children.

When Jack’s powers surface, Cas can hear Jack’s enochian voice in his head and it’s shrill, it’s blinding but he knows exactly where they have to go now. He grabs each Winchester and says, following Jack’s call “Shut up, you two. I got him!”

Jack feels dizzy and sick, and he vomits all over the floor. It’s coke and alcohol, gastric acid and the drug Hunter gave him. Everything’s coming out in spurts and Jack is happy to get rid of the poison. The dust in the room settles, three bodies are scattered around him, all of them still breathing but bleeding but one of them, the fourth is crawling towards the door. Jack wants to stop him, because he thinks the man might hurt another boy just like this and he can’t let him get away with it, but his human body is cramping and throwing up bitter fluids.

The man wails when Sam shows up out of nowhere, sided by Cas and Dean. Jack sees them through a veil of tears, but he can’t get up, all he can do for now is whimper. There’s distant grunts and yelling, hectic moving. Cas helps him sit up and his warm healing light helps Jack regain some conscience.

“They’re all blacked out”, Jack hears Dean say. “God damn, look at this, Sam. Camera, bed, latex bed sheets, dildos, lube….”

“Gang rape”, Sam just says and Jack can hear his voice shake with anger.

Then - sounds of plates clashing on the floor and Sam yelling at Dean. And then yelling at Jack who’s still held by Cas to be healed.

“For fuck’s sake, Jack! What did you do?!”

“We need to leave”, Cas says, “we can’t stay, the eruption didn’t happen unheard. Police will be here soon.”

“Sam?”, Jack moans. “Sam?”

Sam crouches in front of Jack and places his hand on Jack’s cheek. There’s no smile in Sam’s face, which Jack would die for. There’s disappointment and anger. So much anger.

“I didn’t mean to…”

Jack regains his strength and gets up. “I’m okay, Cas. I can walk.”

It’s no difference if Jack wanted it or not, it happened. He has almost been assaulted and videotaped because he trusted the wrong person. Because he wanted to show Sam he’s an adult, he can make his own decisions. He’s mature enough to date.

The bitter truth is, that Jack was just a brat and it almost cost him something important. His innocence.

On the way home, Jack and Sam don’t talk much. Dean and Cas zapped back home, but they needed to get the car away from the parking lot and Jack doesn’t want to be zapped, he still feels sick. It’s not only because he threw up all of his meals and drinks today or that he used his powers to defend himself. It was the look on Sam’s face that was utterly sickening. Jack could live with Sam yelling at him again, even calling him a whore or whatever. Call him stupid, childish, bratty, cocky. But the silence is gnawing on Jack’s nerves like a hungry rat. But there’s not much he can say, because if he just told Sam what’s gotten into him he would maybe spill he’s in love with Sam. That he wanted to know what is going on with his body and mind and why he desires Sam of all people on this planet … that Jack wanted to know how it feels to be taken seriously by someone who desires Jack. And if there was a way to forget about Sam with someone else. It didn’t work with Aurora, hell it didn’t work with Hunter.

Jack wonders if he’ll just be in this state forever. Seeing Sam and immediately daydreaming of his big, strong hands all over Jack’s body.

Sam doesn’t talk to him for the whole ride except necessities, he doesn’t talk much when they’re home. There’s another very nasty fight between all three of his dads, when they think Jack is already asleep. Cas looked after him half of the night, helped him shower, brought him sandwiches, water and anti nausea pills. He even attempts to talk about what happened but Jack just can’t. Not yet. Not with Cas. How could a seraph, a celestial being, understand Jack’s human nature? And his failures? He tries and Jack is happy about it. He apologizes to Cas more than once but Cas just says, it’s okay, it happens, we all make mistakes.

But the yelling of Sam and Dean is deafening.

Sam accuses Dean of getting Jack willfully in danger. Dean yelling at Sam for being a fucking coward. A hypocrite, a prude. A liar.

Dean is a drinker, an asshole, a narcissist, relationally disturbed and overall a bad person.

If you believe what they say to each other, which Jack doesn’t.

He doesn’t know what or whom to believe these days.

It takes Dean two days to come up to Jack and apologize. There’s a lot of words being said, all saying the same. That Dean was a prick for saying that, he didn’t mean Jack to get in danger. And somehow Jack thinks, no, he didn’t want Jack to get hurt. He wanted to teach Jack a lesson, whatever that lesson was. Jack wasn’t getting behind it and Dean just manipulates sometimes. He maybe knows the answer and Jack would’ve done a lot to be able to read minds. He could also make all of them stop lying again, but the last time ended in so much chaos… Jack better doesn’t act up at all these days. He’s just happy his fathers found him on time.

Put Your Hands On My Waist, Do It Softly

It takes Jack three nights to finally go up to Sam’s room and knock. He knows Sam is awake, he may not be able to read minds, but he senses Sam’s distress.

“Yeah?”, Sam calls.

“Sam, uh, it’s me, Jack. Can I come in?”

A loud sigh, creaking of the bed.

“Sure. Come in.”

Jack feels like the damn newborn fawn he didn’t want to be mistaken for in this moment when he worms into Sam’s room and closes the door behind him. Sam is in his shorts only, Jack in his pajamas, but when Jack is honest, he didn’t sleep a single minute since they got back to the bunker. He is afraid of the dark and the loneliness and he misses Sam around him so damn much, he cries until his eyes burn and his face is swollen.

“Sam, I wanted to say, … I am sorry, I shouldn’t have lied to you about the app. I shouldn’t have snuck out to meet a shady guy so far away. I’m really sorry.”

Sam looks up.

“Jack, what you did was stupid, rash and irresponsible but I’m not the one you should apologize to. I should apologize to you, but all of this won’t make it undone, you know?”

He tears up again when he sees the hurt look on Sam’s face.

“Look, I know I was mean to you and I was overprotective, rude and I didn’t even tell you why I’m not telling you everything about love and sex you want and need to hear. I should have because I’m your caretaker and I should’ve known better. I don’t blame you even half as much as I blame myself.”

At first Jack wants to protest, but Sam is right. There’s been mistakes on both sides with a hint of Dean spicing things up.

“Can I sit down?”, Jack then asks, still standing in the corner at the door.

Sam gets up and puts his laundry away from the only available seat. Except his bed.

Jack sits down, rubbing his face and squeezing his legs together. Damn tears. He even has a headache.

“I wanted to understand”, Jack mumbles, looking down at his lap. “Why I feel certain things for certain people-”, he looks up, Sam’s face is still a stiff grimace, “... why is it all so confusing?”

“Love?”, Sam asks.

“Yes, love. Sex. All of it.”

There’s a minute of nerve wracking silence, before Jack has the guts to say it.

“I only ever wanted to know how it is with you .”

It’s so quiet now, Jack imagines he could hear a pin drop at the gas station out of Lebanon. He knows he dropped a bomb right here, but he overheard another fight with Dean calling Sam a hypocrite -again- and ‘having the hots for the kid’. Apart from being called a damn kid again, Jack checked what that means. Having the hots. And well, yeah, Jack himself has the hots for Sam and he doesn’t want to live with the uncertainty anymore. He won’t meet anyone else he wants to be with, not in a very long time and if Sam doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, he can still try to move on. But there’s no moving on in a vacuum. Like now.

“Dean is right?”, Jack asks carefully, his voice is thin.

“Dean is right”, Sam finally admits and buries his face in his hands. “But it doesn’t mean it’s right. You know?”

“I know.”

Another second passes.

“No, actually I don’t know, Sam. I don’t think it’s wrong. You said you’d never judge. But why did you do so when I needed your approval the most?”

Sam looks helpless, wringing his hands.

“Because I was jealous and I shouldn’t be.”

“I would’ve liked your jealousy more than being insulted by you.”

It’s visible how uncomfortable Sam is, he’s fighting emotions. Jack is, too. But he’s crying already. What happened to Jack was terrifying, but what he really, truly fears is Sam’s rejection.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Stop being sorry and start being honest with me… Don’t you think I deserve it now? I know I’ve changed very radically. I used to go to town in my damn pajamas. That’s barely four weeks ago and it feels like years already.”

Sam smiles now. Even a little sad.

“Yes, it was actually very adorable. Seeing you like this.”

“I’m not adorable anymore. I’m not that naive anymore. Why can’t you just… see me like Dean sees Cas?”

“That’s a very bad example and you know it.”

Now Jack laughs and wipes away some cold tears from his face.

“And I already see you like this, Jack. But I feel guilty for it. I’m here to keep you safe. I want to be the person you turn to when you’re lost, I want to guide you, but also be the person that’s your safe haven. Can I do that when we… Jack, when we get together, our relationship will change. We will get to know each other in ways that might scare you. Or even scare me. I’m afraid of that. And if I’m afraid, you should be, too.”

When Jack gets up and sits beside Sam on the bed, without asking first -- it feels like a very bold move for Jack. He likes being close to Sam and feeling his body radiate warmth and safety but also desire and a pull that’s hard to resist, Jack knows it’s the right thing.

“I’m not afraid. I’ve been afraid in Gilead, but when I’m with you, I know nothing bad will ever happen to me.”

Sam’s face yells OBJECTIONS but Jack ignores it.

Jack leans on Sam’s shoulder, the touch feels electrifying and at first, Sam stiffens, but then relaxes and puts his hand around Jack’s shoulders.

“I’m not afraid”, Jack says again.

Sam nuzzles his nose against Jack’s hair and kisses him right behind his ear. Jack feels violent hot shudders all over and that is the most intense thing he’s ever felt for anyone.

“It feels good”, he mumbles, turning his face to Sam.

Sam is close, incredibly close and despite the hot shudders Jack gets goosebumps all over. It feels like that one time he had fevers, when he was dying, but in a good way. The best possible way.

Jack doesn’t receive a kiss on his lips, as he wished for, Sam kisses his cheek and his jaw. Just slightly. But to Jack it feels like he’s a dying sun out there in the universe and he’s being eaten up by heat and flares of light.

And then Sam’s hand reaches for Jack’s.

“I still need time…”, he whispers, “we both need some time. To be sure.”

“I’m very sure.”

“Give it a minute”, Sam says, hot breath lingering over Jack’s face. “Just a minute…”

Even Sam can’t wait the damn minute before he kisses Jack. Gentle and light like a hummingbird.

"This is Heaven, what I truly want."

[vagrantblvrd]

myan soulate au?

I mean, there’s No Future Past Tomorrow?

But also!

The one where soulmates can write messages to one another on their skin and such with Myan, because I’m weak like that. (Also I did a thing about it before I can’t be bothered to look for right now, but yes.)

I started to fic but then motivation dried up, so have this, I guess?

Has him writing a message to his soulmate, hand shaking because he had no idea what to make of it and scared as hell for them.

Wrote Are you okay? on his skin and didn’t get a message back afterwards, but he knew whoever his soulmate was they were alive.

Had to be, for Michael’s knuckles to look fucked up the way they did a few days later like he’d been in a fight, and goddamn hadn’t that been fun to explain.

Didn’t get a message back right away, no, but he knew his soulmate was still alive and suddenly understood how the soulmate thing could bite you in the ass if you weren’t careful. That it wasn’t like the movies said, beautiful and perfect and magical because whoever his soulmate was, they probably weren’t someone with an office job. Working nine to five and pulling down a decent salary working for a corporation somewhere. Not with the way Michael found marks on his skin like something a knife would leave, or a bullet. His soulmate stopped talking to him using words, but he seemed to have a hell of a lot to say in other ways the way he just kept collecting all those injuries, scars. Things that faded from Michael's skin soon enough but he knew his soulmate wouldn’t be as lucky. Knew whoever they were, they weren’t a cop, or a soldier or in the line of work where they’d get those kind of injuries doing something noble or brave or whatever bullshit people were selling that week. Couldn’t be if they wouldn’t talk about it, talk to him once they started happening, like they were ashamed of it. Or guilty or who the fuck even knows. It took Michael a while to wrap his head around that, realize that was just how shit worked sometimes.

That whoever his soulmate was, the fact they were up to some shady shit didn’t mean they weren’t the same person who’d quite fucking Star Trek at him out of the blue. Sent him lines from Shakespeare’s plays and everything else before they clammed up.

Didn’t mean Michael didn’t care about them any less after everything, just that they were just that fucking stupid. And it wasn’t like Michael didn’t understand, the way his own life was going. Family debts and someone had to deal with them with his mom sick and his dad running himself into the ground looking after them. Maybe knowing his soulmate was up to shady shit made it easier for him to cross a line or two, end up on the wrong side of the law. Maybe it was seeing the way his family was tearing itself apart trying to do things the way the world said they should that did it, who fucking cares. Money’s money and his family needed it and Michael wasn’t too proud he wouldn’t do what he could to help out. If that meant breaking the law here or there, why the hell not, right? His soulmate wasn’t talking to him in words anymore, but that was fine too because Michael had bigger problems to worry about. Dug himself a nice little hole and couldn’t seem to stop, even when his mom got better and things started to look up. Because life and stupid mistakes and anyway, anyway. Michael gets shot one night. Working for unscrupulous people doing unscrupulous things and he gets shot. More of a graze than anything else, but it’s going to leave a scar. Not his first, to be fair, but the first one like it since his life went to shit and his soulmate notices. Boy, do they ever. Michael wakes up to a message the day after, hurting like a motherfucker and Where the fuck are you? written into his skin clearer than any of the other messages he’d ever gotten. Dull ache to it like his soulmate was angry about it, Michael going and getting himself hurt like that and pressed harder than usual as they wrote their message to him. “Oh, fuck you,” Michael mutters, because of course he does. Thinks about writing back with that as his answer, but doesn’t want to risk the idiot misunderstanding him, so instead he writes, Disneyworld, and after a moment, Wish you were here. The worst part is, it’s not a lie. Michael’s a stupid twenty-something with a gunshot wound living a shitty life and talking to someone he’s never met because soulmate bullshit. They probably could have met earlier, done everything right and used their personal messaging system to get to know one another better, but they’re idiots. So. Song lyrics and quotes from movies and plays and other shit. Dumb enough to think they’d have time to find one another when they were older, and now look at them. Whatever Michael’s soulmate is caught up in is clearly something they don’t want Michael involved in, and after recent events Michael has a whole new appreciation for that way of thinking. Doesn’t change the fact he’d love to meet his soulmate one day, just means life is shittier than he thought it could be because no way he’s going to risk it now. He doesn’t want the them getting dragged into his troubles any more than they seem to want to get him involved in theirs, and yet? How’s your day been? No reason they have to be complete idiots about it. Pretend there isn’t someone out there on the other end of this connection they share, that they’re more alone in the world than they are. Or maybe there is, and Michael’s too young, stupid, to see it. And then his idiot writes back. Peachy, and I made new friends today, something about it hits Michael the right way, has him laughing himself sick, makes his day seem a little better. Sounds like bullshit, because on top of the pain from the gunshot wound Michael’s ribs feel like hell and his hands hurt. Knows without looking there will be bruises his idiot of a soulmate picked up marking his skin under his shirt to go along with the state of his hands. Yeah? Sounds nice. It would be smarter for them to pretend there wasn’t something there between them and just move on with their lives, keep on making mistake after mistake and learning to live with them, but. Michael’s always been stupid about things like that, and apparently so is his idiot which suits him just fine. ======== Things go on like that for a while, months, years, and Michael wakes up screaming one night. Feels like his chest’s on fire, like something’s cutting into it. Stumbles into his bathroom and stares at his reflection as letters, words, form in clean little lines. Feels sick to his stomach because he knows it’s anything but that for his soulmate, fucking idiot out there with someone carving shit into their goddamned chest.

Can’t do a fucking thing but breathe through it as he memorizes the words, fucking names so he can make them sorry they even thought of touching his idiot

.....and then Michael ends up in Los Santos because the assholes who hurt Ryan are a crew out there and shenanigans?

Michael going after them, but what’s this? Some dick who calls himself the Vagabond has a matter to settle with them too and anyway, yeah.

Idiots who don’t realize they’re soulmates for the longest damn time and manage to fall in love anyway, and by the time the FAKE AH Crew come into the picture they’ve (mostly) gotten their shit together.

Mostly.

Because stuff. And things.

Also, Ryan does the whole godawful chest hair skull thing to help cover up the scars, which is like.

Ryan why, and also you dork, and other such things from Michael, idk, I’m tired and everything’s funny atm. /o\

[mikaa-exe]

Demon hunter au | Demon!Hyunjin x DemonHunter!Reader

Requested by @jung-snoopy-woo, thank you so much for your kind words ^^

•Gender neutral reader

•fluff uwu

•some swear words here and there

•might have some typos but I'll fix them asap if I find any

Ok

We don't want to brag here but

You kinda were the best demon hunter of your area

Those naughty creatures got nothing on you

You were always one step ahead

You've been doing this for so long that you already knew every trick they would use to mislead you, every action and almost every face and name -_-

And you could see that they were scared of you, even if they didn't show it

You're basically a whole badass reader damn!!

Let's give some context here

So there's been demons around since before you were born

They aren't the evil bloodthristy creatures that you normally find in books or movies

Well most of them aren't

Some of them kill and do that whole satan thing but the rest are chill most of the time

They're just a pain in the butt jesus

The demons love to be mischievous and play tricks on every one

They steal not because they need money or products but because they love chaos

They go to peoples houses just to mess with their closets and dishes

They eat your food before you can even finish cooking it

They even steal candies from children >:( those bastards

So it's your job to capture these creatures when they get too out of control

You're amazing but there is one specific demon that haunts your nightmares

Hwang Hyunjin -_-

This demon has been YOUR pain in the butt for almost 6 years now!!

The first time he appeared was in your bedroom, you were about to fall asleep when you felt your hair being pulled from behind you

Boy you were hella fast to jump from your bed and grab the closest thing to you in that moment, which was YOUR GUN- no I'm joking, it was a knife, you don't bring guns to bed, that's gross

You looked around but it was too dark to see anything so you sneackly walked to the switch and BAM

No one was there

The fuck

-_-

Now at this point you were positive it was a demon but why wasn't he showing itself or attacking you again? That's not common of them

-"Did you lose something?"

JESUSWTFISHAPPENINGBITCHIGOTAKNIFEANDIMNOTAFRAIDTOUSEIT

The voice behind you made you jump and hit your head in the light that hanged from the wall

Well ouch that was really unecessary

You looked up and--

Wow hello cutie

NOP

WHAT THE FUCK READER IT'S A DEMON AND IT JUST PULLED YOUR HAIR GET YOUR FEELINGS TOGETHER

The little shit had the audacy to l a u g h

Bitch

- "Aren't you supposed to be the best demon hunter here?"

You gave this little shit your scariest gaze

At least the scariest you could while sitting on the floor with your hair all over the place

-"WhY? dO yOu hAvE A pRoBlEm SiR?"

-"Mmh idk... Thought you'd be taller"

And just like that he desapeared, leaving you on the floor still trying to digest what the heck had happened here

So there you go, that's how you two met

From that day on he made sure to visit you almost everyday

He's the one who switches your socks right before you go out just to see you wearing mismatching socks like an idiot

He puts salt on your morning cereal and sugar on your lunch

He goes to school with you and just follows you everywhere

-"Is this what you chose to wear to school? Geez"

-"vxhdbxvvx can you not"

-"That girl is looking at you funny, you should spit on her"

-"WtF sPiT?!"

-"Omg the teacher asked you a question and you're taking this long to answer?"

-"Shut up I'm thinking!!!"

-"What if you stood up right now and started dancing the floss?"

-"Why would I do that?"

-"Why aren't you talking to me? :("

-"Hyunjin I am in class and I don't want to talk"

-"Why do you keep responding then?"

-"I'm about to punch you so hard--"

-"You can't, you're in class"

-"ARHHHHHH"

You would laugh at how ridiculous this situation was if it had nothing to do you with you

BUT IT HAD UFFF

You tried everything to get Hyunjin to leave you alone

Demon traps, boxes, holy water because why not

You tried violence once but the best you managed to do was throwing him some cookies

Guess what

You missed

And you waisted some perfectly good cookies :(

You're not a violent person in general bUT THIS BOY AHH

You even tried talking to him at one point about this whole situation but he was too busy drawing on your kitchen walls with tomato sauce

It was starting to get to you so you reported him to your superiors but they said they didn't have any complains about a demon named Hyunjin

So that means this idiot is only here to mess with you and you only

WHY CRUEL WORLD WHY

Ok

Let's be fair

He never seemed interested in actually hurting you or doing anything too mean

He just seemed to want your attention God knows why

So if you're stuck dealing with him might as well try and enjoy this situation

What do people usually say?

If you can't win, join them

Instead of yelling at him or throwing him your book collection for the third time you asked how his day went and even offered him some cookies

Let's just say he was s h o o k

He just stood there, mouth open and completly lost

JSHDJDBBDNSNVDKD

READER YOU BROKE HIM!!!

You?! Being nIcE to him?!

Is this a joke, where are the cameras?!

The only thing he managed to say was a shy "Good.." and a mumbled "no thanks"

O M G :o

The demon that's capable of spending the whole night talking about God knows what is out of words .. WOW!

The next day you found him repainting his old masterpiece on your kitchen wall but with mustard this time

You quietly walked up to him and replaced the mustard in his hand with a rug

-"I like this smell better"

HE WAS SO CONFUSED THE POOR THING!!

He looked down with the face of someone who was having an existential crisis and started cleaning your wall

You smiled at him and gave him a thumbs up to which he responded with a blink and a worried smile

SJBDJSMBDJE HELP

So yeah, from that day foward you tried being nice to him and understanding his needs and actions

And if we're being honest here

He wasn't all that bad when you got to know him better

Aparently the other demons didn't like him that much so he tried to find other ways to entertain himself

You thought maybe boddering you was his way of expressing himself??

He thought that was the only way he could get your attetion

So you tried teaching him how to help instead of being annoying

He still went to school with you but now he insisted to help by carrying some of your stuff

He was quieter during classes and even started answering some questions on a notebook that you offered him

Maybe it was out of boredom but you were so happy!!

He was learning and that was so good and adorable! ^w^

He asked for your help sometimes with the things he couldn't solve

And you thought he looked so cute when he would bite your pencil whenever a harder question came up

You two started doing homework together and he was getting so much better at each subject

You felt like a proud mother :')

He would now watch you while you cooked for you both and would occasionally ask some questions like why did you put that in there or why were you mixing the ingredients with a fork and not a spoon

So you tried teaching him how to cook

Let's just say he was a whole m e s s

So after hours of intense baking you ended up with a weird red mix and some mashed potatoes

Your kitchen was dirty, sticky, slippery and oN FIRE OMG!!!!!!

After a visit from the fire department Hyunjin promised he would be more careful and ask you before turning on anything

You also discovered he was a whole teddy bear

Omg this boy was so soft and cuddly

He's such a clingy demon but he was also kinda shy, specially at first

THE UWUs

THEY EXPLODED

He started by getting closer to you until your shoulders touched but if you looked at him with a questioning gaze he would immediately push you to the ground and run away with a evil laugh and some flushed cheeks

Whenever you had free time you two would do a movie marathon that always ended up with holding hands or falling asleep on each other

He once had the brilliant idea that you two should definitely watch a horror movie one night

He thought it would be the perfect opportunity to prove you how strong he was and how he could protect you

But it didn't go like he had hoped to

You two ended up a trembling mess of limbs, cuddled up to each other as Hyunjin whispered how bad of an idea that was and how it was all your fault

THIS BITCH I CAN'T-

Some days you would just arrive home totally exhausted and Hyunjin would make you some warm tea and cuddle you on the sofa until you fell asleep

He'd try to stay awake in case you wanted to move or go to your room but you were so warm and cozy that he was gone not even a minute after you

He'd also insist on doing your hair when you were going out

He loved it and he had a lot of fun so anytime he had the opportunity he would ask you to let him help

At first you ended up with a mess of braids and accessories that formed a weird nest on your head

BUT HYUNJIN LOOKED SO HAPPY WITH HIS PUPPY EYES AHH

You ended up going out like that

But he got better with time

Whenever you had to leave him alone at home you would write him a list of things for him to do and others that he shouldn't even attempt to

You arrived later and found your house a little messier than before and Hyunjin cleaning a weird green goo that mysteriously fell on the floor

Y o u r f l o o r

But you couldn't be mad at him now, specially because when Hyunjin saw you he tackled and trapped you in a big bear hug that immediately melted all your anger

How can someone be so cute Hwang Hyunjin wHAT IS HE DOING TO YOU

How dare he mess with your feelings this way

You two started opening up more and more to each other and BAM that's how you got your super demon best friend :D

His mischievous side wasn't all gone, he still pranked you once in a while but now you were sure it wasn't for the sake of being mean

And he made sure to compensate you with cuddles, an attempt of a meal or a gift made of things he found around the house

It so was weird

At first you couldn't handle him but now you two are inseparable!

It's unusual but you both make it work

Your own way ^^

[imagines-dreams]

Why He Invented Time Travel

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: endgame spoilers, if that still applies, and mentions of anxiety/PTSD, lots of fluff to make up for it

Summary:  I wrote a scene where Peter Parker finds out that his memory was the thing that convinced Tony Stark to try inventing time travel again feat. babysitter!Peter, sweet little Morgan, Tony Stark being a parent, and a little bit of babysitter!Nebula

Word Count: 5629

~ - ~

Ever since the Battle of Thanos, Peter had a lot of things to catch up on. Mr. Stark had married Ms. Potts, (he thought they were married before but that’s beside the point). They had a daughter named Morgan, and she was a cutie. He and his aunt had to bargain for their apartment again. Also, some kids were older, and some weren’t? Like Harley! Harley was supposed to be a year younger than he was, but no. Harley Keener was now four years older than Peter. (Harley likes gloating about it all the time now.)

All in all, the snap really messed up this timeline.

Still, the best part was Morgan. Even though Peter wasn’t there for the first four years of her life, he knew the moment he met her that he’d love her with everything he had.

“Peter.”

He smiled at the guardian. “Hey, Nebula.”

She attempted a smile and stepped away from the door to let Peter in.

“Who’s here today?” Peter asked, putting his backpack down by the table. Morgan collided with his leg with a giggle. “Peter’s back!”

Peter laughed and hulled her up. “Wow, you’re getting big, huh?”

“Morgan’s here,” Nebula said. “Harley left approximately twenty-three minutes ago for the compound. Riri was here two days and two hours ago and is currently back home working on her suit.”

“Peter, look!” Morgan pointed at the door.

Peter turned, and just like that, his hair stood on end, and his skin raised into goosebumps. There was a tick, tick of a rudimentary gun. He held up his hand just in time to catch the incoming sock ball.

“Aw.” Morgan pouted. “Harley said he could hit you this time.”

“My spider sense is too good.”

“Tingle!” Morgan corrected with a giggle.

He shook his head and poked her stomach. “Spidey sense!”

“Peter tingle,” Nebula deadpanned.

Peter narrowed his eyes at Nebula, but the ex-assassin stepped forward so she was closer to Peter. She tilted her head, and her smirk, though playful, dared him to correct the child again.

Peter blinked. “Fine. Peter tingle.”

“Yay!” The girl threw her arms up in the air. Her center of balance shifted, and her body fell out of Peter’s arms. Just as Peter was fumbling to catch her again, Nebula caught her and puts her back on the ground. Once her feet touched the ground, the little girl, completely unfazed by the fact that she almost fell from Peter’s arms, ran back to her toys in the living room, laughing and shouting about things she had just imagined.

Nebula crossed her arms.

“Sh-She, well, she was the one who,” Peter fumbled. “I mean, come on. Nebula, I was-”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nebula smiled, with a little too much teeth, but as soon as Peter saw her teeth, she stopped smiling. “I must attend a meeting with the guardians. Tony will be here in three hours and thirty-two minutes.”

Peter nodded. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Nebula went to Morgan and crouched down in front of her. “I’m leaving for a few days.”

The little girl put down her toys, and her eyes grew large. “Can you stay longer?”

“I’m already twenty-two seconds late, Morgan.”

She sighed and pushed the strands of hair out of her face and rested her two hands on the back of her neck. Morgan breathed out very loudly before looking at Nebula again. “I’ma miss you.”

Nebula’s lips twitched. “I will miss you, too.” The woman opened her arms up. “Good day?”

Morgan beamed and launched herself into Nebula’s arms. “Good day!”

When Morgan pulled away, Nebula told her, “Be good for Peter.”

“Yes, Auntie Blue.”

Nebula nodded at Peter. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

So, Nebula left, and Morgan pulled on Peter’s hand. He laughed and went on one knee. “What does little Miss Stark need, huh?”

“I wanna put on a show.”

“A show? What’s the show?”

“You!” Morgan giggled and pushed Peter to the center of the carpet. She hurriedly set up all her stuffed animals in front of him, patting some heads and kissing some fluffy cheeks. When the audience was set up, Morgan carefully stepped between everyone, saying “Excuse me,” to the stuffed animals she passed. Then, with her stuffed bunny in her hands, she plopped down on the carpet. “And the show begins” -she pointed at Peter- “now!”

Peter laughed and did a backflip.

Morgan applauded and mimicked a cheering crowd with soft ah’s and oh’s.

The superhero continued to do more tricks, including walking on the ceiling, flipping onto the ceiling, and getting stuck on the ceiling.

The powers Peter got from the radioactive spider weren’t always easy to control. Of course, he had the standard first few weeks and months of having to adjust to having super strength and too-quick-to-be-normal reflexes. But even after being Spider-Man for a few years, he still had a bit of trouble from time to time.

For example, when Peter felt tense, nervous, anxious, or all three at once, then he had a tendency to stick to whatever he touched.

So, when Peter’s mind, for it was always bustling around thinking things he honestly shouldn’t be thinking, thought back to the color orange and how orange the planet Titan was and how the sand slipped beneath his feet. How Dr. Strange’s yellow-orange magic transported him over and over so he could kick Thanos in the face. How he almost took the glove off, and if he had just pulled a little harder, maybe, just maybe, everything-

“Peter?”

“Everything’s fine, Morgan!” He shook his head and smiled at the little girl. “I’m ok.” Peter tugged at his own feet. “Just nerves from, uh, performing. I’m fine!”

“I’m gonna get blankets!”

“Morgan, no. Please, Morgan, stay here.” Being alone wasn’t going to help. Still, he didn’t want to scare her. After all, he promised Nebula that he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. “Uh, I can’t get unstuck and watch over your friends at the same time, right?”

Morgan tilted her head, and Peter could see in her eyes that she knew something was wrong. Something unpleasant settled in his chest. It wasn’t her fault that she was more intuitive than most five-year-olds. It was his for still being so hung up on the snap.

Peter gulped down his guilt. He couldn’t deal with that later. In that moment, he needed to get off the ceiling. Getting off the ceiling will make Morgan stay with him. Then, he can take care of her for the rest of the day and not think about horrible things. So, he kept on trying to pry his feet off the wall. He breathed in, breathed out, and pulled. And nothing. He did it a second time. Breathe in, out, pull. In, out, pull

Gods, what was wrong with him? He just needed to take care of a five-year-old kid. It wasn’t like she was a hard kid to take care of. Morgan was sweet and kind. He shouldn’t have any problems, but there he was stuck on the ceiling and-

Where did Morgan’s toys go?

Peter blinked. There was an entire audience of twenty or so stuffed toys watching him just a minute ago.

The little girl had at least six of them bunched up in her arms. One fell as she tried to maneuver her way somewhere.

“Wha- Morgan, what are you doing?”

“I’m making a safe landing place.” She dropped the toys onto the carpeted floor right beneath Peter where all the others were waiting. Since there were no more stuffed animals around to volunteer to be part of the cute and fluffy landing cushion, she grabbed the pillows from the couch. “So, you don’t have to rush.” She smiled up at him. “It’s ok. You can fall anytime.” She pointed at the stuffed animals she cherished. “It’s safe!”

Peter sighed. “Morgan, what about your friends?”

“Well, you’re my brother.” She sat down, criss-cross applesauce, in front of him and her stuffed animal pyramid. With a bright, innocent smile, she added, “I care about you more.”

Peter’s heart swelled, and tears welled up in his eyes. He already knew Morgan was one of the best things in his life, but that just solidified her place in his heart. Morgan Stark’s brother. It’s just as good a title as Avenger.

Morgan brushed her hair out of her face. “You’re safe here.”

Peter tilted his head. “I know.”

“I know, too.” She shrugged. “Sometimes people need to be reminded though.” Before Peter could ask, Morgan continued, “Cause Daddy has nightmares a lot. Mommy, too, so sometimes when they’re scared, people tell them they’re safe. Because they forgot.” Just as quickly as the girl had slipped into a troubling and heavy topic, she slipped into a happier one. “But sometimes, I get to save them!”

“Save them?” Peter laughed. “Can you tell me the story?”

“Please!”

“Please, tell me the story?”

She nodded. “Daddy was talking to Uncle Steve outside. Mommy kept saying I should” -she paused to rub the carpet, curious about how it felt against her hands- “that I should play inside, but Daddy looked really mad, so I kept” -hair got caught in her mouth, so she brushed her hair back again- “kept on trying to go outside. So, I went outside-”

“Aha!” Peter beamed and showed off his unstuck right foot. “I’m good!”

“Fall!” Morgan commanded with a giggle.

Peter looked at her sternly. “Hey, that’s not nice.”

“But I built it!” She pointed at her stuffed animal cushion.

“Please.”

“Please, fall!”

Peter smiled at her, and Morgan chanted, “Fall! Fall! Fall!”

And in true Spider-Man fashion, Peter flipped off the ceiling and right into the pile of toys and couch cushions.

His little sister gasped at the explosion of toys. She picked up two that flew out and promptly jumped in with a stuffed Hulk in one hand and an alpaca plushie in the other.

Peter laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Got you! I got ya, Morgan!”

“No-o-o,” she laughed as she tried to scramble out of her brother’s grasp. “Peter!”

“Still got you!” He hugged her tightly.

“Wait!” she whined. She patted his face, mindlessly trying to find a button on Peter that would make him stop tickling her. “I didn’t finish my story. Can I finish it?”

“Oh yeah. Of course, of course.” Peter held Morgan so she could sit in his lap. Then, he arranged the animals around them so they stood up properly as if listening to a speech. Those he couldn’t reach by hand, he webbed and directed so they did. After all the animals were listening, he nodded. “Ok, so you went outside. Then what happened?”

“Well, Mommy told me to go outside so that I can save Daddy. So, I did!” Morgan nodded. “I went outside, and daddy came back inside, because the house is safe.” The little girl paid attention to her Hulk toy, moving the arms up and down.

“Is he smashing something?” Peter asked. He grabbed the pegasus toy. “I think he needs a ride.”

Instead of agreeing, Morgan gasped. “I can show you!”

“Show me what?”

“The house!”

He smiled. “Which part?”

“No-o, not like that.” She tilted her head so far to the side that her balance almost faltered. Peter made sure it didn’t by holding little Morgan in place. She continued, “no, the day I saved Dad! Tha house saved it.”

“Saved it?”

“Mhm.” She got off of Peter’s lap, the pegasus, Hulk, and alpaca forgotten. In a confident voice, she asked, “Friday, when did Uncle Steve visit?”

“Steve Rogers last visited a month and two weeks ago with his husband and daughter.”

“No, I don’t want that one.” Morgan rocked back and forth. “The one where I saved Daddy. When Uncle Steve wasn’t nice.”

Friday was silent for a few seconds. “Are you referring to the day Mr. Stark invented time travel?”

That caught Peter’s attention. Of course he knew Tony was one of the co-inventors of time travel, but he didn’t know any details.

“Peter, what does referring mean?”

“Oh, uh,” Peter gulped, “referring means talking about, Morgan.”

“Oh.” She turned back to the wall. “Can you show that day? When Uncle Steve was outside?”

“Of course, Morgan.” Soft blue lights scanned the house from the ceiling to the floor. As the lights engulfed the house, Morgan grabbed Peter’s hand, said, “Come on,” and led him to the porch. Just before Peter left the house, he spotted a hologram of Ms. Potts holding a slightly younger Morgan by the couch.

On the porch, the lights were there, and just as Morgan had described, a hologram of Mr. Stark was sitting down, his face tight and his jaw clenched. His fingers were also twitching every so often. Whoever was with him was lucky he didn’t have the suit.

Then, Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Rogers were standing before him. Mr. Lang, Ant-Man, nice guy, was sitting next to him. Made sense to Peter. Mr. Lang was another co-creator of time travel.

Then, the sound came on.

“-your plan to save the universe is based on the Back to the Future?”

Scott scoffed. His eyes wandered and tried to see if a shred of confidence appeared so he could grab onto it and be at least a little confident in his answer. None did, because his “No” was shakey at best.

Tony leaned forward and nodded. “Good. You had me worried there cause that notion,” his voice sharpened, “That’s not how quantum physics works.”

Ms. Romanoff spoke up, “Tony.”

The two met eyes, and Tony almost deflated. Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Stark had a sibling-like relationship. At least, that’s how Peter saw it. They always ended up on the same side, no matter what, no matter how. They were loyal to each other, and when they weren’t, it was under drastic circumstances. This must’ve been one of those moments.

She tried, “We have to take a stand.”

In Mr. Stark’s holograms, Peter could see that the sympathy and care that he held for Ms. Romanoff was disregarded. She had hit a nerve. “We did stand,” he stated, his eyes resting on Mr. Rogers. “And yet here we are.”

Captain America, or well, the first Captain America, averted his gaze and stared at the house, but everyone knew he wasn’t admiring the architecture.

Mr. Lang tried, “I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife. A daughter.” He took a deep breath. “But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did. And now, now, we have a chance to bring her back, to bring everyone back! And you’re telling me that you won’t even-”

“That’s right, Scott.” Mr. Stark smiled, and if you didn’t know him that well, you’d think he was being cocky. That look, that practiced-and-perfected smirk, says I don’t care about the world or you, I only care about my wife and daughter. But Peter knew better. Even Morgan knew better. Their father figure was putting up his walls again, hiding something. Morgan wasn’t sure why or what he was hiding. She was intuitive, but she was still five. Peter, however, he understood. Mr. Stark didn’t want to entertain the thought because he didn’t want to give himself unwarranted hope. His walls were there to hide the grief and pain, and he couldn’t take a chance knowing that there was no chance for a positive outcome.

“I won’t even.” Mr. Stark shrugged. “I can’t.”

The hologram door opened, passing right through Peter and Morgan, and a tinier Morgan appeared. She went straight for her dad. “Mommy told me to come and save you.”

Mr. Stark’s walls fell, just enough to let his daughter in. He held her close. “Good job. I’m saved.” He smiled and tucked his head into her neck. The walls came back up, shielding him and his daughter from anything and everything. With a sigh, Mr. Stark stood up and admitted, “I wish you had come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly happy to see you guys. Table’s set for six.”

Mr. Rogers grabbed Mr. Stark’s arm, and he stopped.

“Tony, I get it. And I’m happy for you. I really am.” He leaned in close, desperate to convince his former friend of their endeavor. “But this is a second chance.”

Mr. Stark only smiled. “I got my second chance right here, Cap. Can’t roll the dice on it.” He held onto his daughter even tighter, as if just talking about time travel more would take her away from him. He turned to the rest of them. “If you don’t talk shop, you can stay for lunch.” And just like that, Mr. Stark carried Morgan back inside.

“Thanks, Friday,” Peter said.

The holograms disappeared. “Anytime, Peter.”

The teenager gulped. He never realized that Mr. Stark was so hesitant about time travel. He understood why. Morgan was amazing, and according to what he just saw, when time travel first came up, the idea wasn’t fully developed. It sounded insane and impossible, so of course, if someone came to Mr. Stark with that they’d be shut down on the spot.

Still, Peter couldn’t help but wonder.

“Why don’t we go inside, huh, Morgan?”

“Pete-er,” she whined.

He laughed and sat on the porch. “Come on. We can play princess?”

“No, I don’t wanna play princess.”

“Ok, what about CEO?”

She shook her head.

“General?”

“Nuh-uh.”

He laughed. “What do you wanna be?”

Morgan hummed. “I wanna be a unicorn doctor.”

“Hm.” He clicked his tongue. “I got a better idea.”

“What?”

“Unicorn and pegasus doctor.”

Morgan’s face lit up. “Yeah!

So then, Peter whisked her inside the house and played unicorn and pegasus doctor with her. It was full of rainbow nail polish and headbands with ribbons and fake syringes and hiding Mr. Stark’s tools from Morgan when she needed more things to use during her operations.

Soon enough, the little girl yawned three times. It was near nap time. Peter tucked her in bed, with her pegasus by her side, and as she dozed off, she whispered, “I love you tons.”

“3000, Morgan?”

She nodded and yawned again. “3000, big brother.” She smiled, and her eyes drooped until they were closed. Peter’s heart swelled. Yeah, she was a great sister. He brushed her hair and gently pulled the ribbons out of her hair.

When he was sure she was fast asleep, he left the door a tad open and paced in the hallway.

Would it be an invasion of privacy to ask? Friday must record most things that go on in the house, probably picks up on intonations, yelling, accelerated or slowed heartbeats, etc. Mr. Stark did have plans for that before the snap. That must mean Friday recorded when time travel, as in actual time travel, was invented. Sure, Mr. Lang and Dr. Banner helped invent it, but even the two of them said Tony found the “key” to time travel.

Peter would be able to witness it. Right in front of him!

Maybe he shouldn’t ask Friday.

Wait… Ask Friday. Peter looked at the ceiling and whispered, “Friday, do you think Mr. Stark would mind if I look through your holograms?”

“Based on his previous conversations with you, there’s an eighty-six percent chance he won’t get mad at you.”

He sighed. “Well, what’s the chances of him being ok with me seeing the day time travel was invented?”

“I have calculated a ninety-two percent chance that he won’t be mad at you for accessing the holograms on that day. Would you like me to pull them up?”

Peter pursed his lips. It would technically be a learning opportunity. A bit of an invasion of privacy, but didn’t he already do that when Morgan… No, that couldn’t count. Morgan is Tony’s daughter. Of course, she could have access.

Peter gulped. “Uh, just the moment he discovered time travel. First successful trial, maybe?”

“Of course. I suggest going to Mr. Stark’s office.”

“Right.” Peter cleared his throat. “Thank you, Friday.” He peeked into Morgan’s room, just to make sure she was still sleeping, safe and sound. After checking for the third time, because did he really see her or was that his imagination, he rushed down the stairs to Mr. Stark’s office. The blue lights had just reached the floor, and there, in front of him, was Mr. Stark.

The genius’s hands were frozen in the air, manipulating the hologram in front of them, an inverted mobius strip if Peter remembered correctly. “Ok, Friday,” Peter said. Now or never. “Play the hologram.”

“Give me” -Mr. Stark pointed- “that eigenvalue. That particle, and a spectral decomp.” He sighed. “That’ll take a second.” he picked up his drink, and even though Mr. Stark didn’t consume alcohol at that time, the way he drank from his organic juice reminded Peter of movie characters who carelessly drank a swig of beer or alcohol or whatever they called it.

“Just a moment,” Friday said.

Tony let out a soft, “Ah,” shook his head, and didn’t even bother looking at the running simulation.

Peter did, though. And he saw the for loop go on and on for thousands and thousands of times in seconds. Each one calculating a supposed success or failure. It flashed on the screen. Success. Success. Success. Success. Succes.

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out. I’m just gonna,” Tony trailed off, and he eyed his model. He never paid attention to the blinking light of Success on the side of the screen, but he did watch as the model transformed and ran itself.

“Model rendered.”

There it was. Inverted mobius, successful time travel simulation. With a 99.987 success rate. Out of ten thousand simulations, 99,987 of them were successful.

Mr. Stark froze, just for a second, and fell right back into his chair. Shocked and confused, he stared at the model again, his eyes flickering to the list of successes the model calculated, its success rate, the specifics of the most successful and efficient model, and you could see the gears in Mr. Stark’s head as he pieced it together.

Because maybe he made a mistake, and this model was useless. Maybe Friday miscalculated, and this model was useless. Maybe he was hallucinating because of alcohol withdrawal, and this model was useless. But no, the calculations in Mr. Stark’s head came out the same. He didn’t make a mistake. Friday didn’t make a mistake. And he hadn’t experienced hallucinations in years.

Mr. Stark breathed out, another piece of evidence that reassured him. He wasn’t dreaming. He was breathing. He was awake. This was real. He slapped a hand over his mouth and double-checked his calculations.

Still correct.

Time travel had been invented.

Mr. Stark threw his hands out. “Shit!”

“Shit.”

Peter had to laugh. Because there was Morgan, once again, being her own little hero. Everyone knew that Tony Stark needed someone to ground him sometimes, and his daughter was the best one for the job.

Mr. Stark turned around in his chair and playfully shushed his daughter. “What are you doing up, Little Miss?”

Peter coughed. “Friday, turn it off.” He promised himself, nothing too personal. Just research and intellectual purposes.

“Shit,” little Morgan repeated.

“Friday.”

“Right away, Peter.” The holograms disappeared.

Peter stared at where the first successful model of time travel was rendered, and he squealed. “I can’t believe I saw how time travel was made!” He laughed and ran his hands through his hair. “That was, so awesome. Especially accounting for the fact that that was the, what, the one-thousandth model?”

“Actually, it was the 3247th model.”

“My god, that’s amazing. I can’t believe I just saw Mr. Stark invent time travel.” He giggled. “I just saw Mr. Stark invent time travel!”

“Would you like to see related memories?”

Peter blinked. “Related? To time travel?”

“Indeed. I have recorded several moments during that day that may relate to Tony’s invention of time travel.” The lights appeared again, and a hologram materialized in the kitchen. Peter followed Friday and asked, “What’s this hologram for?”

“This is a memory I recorded specifically because Tony’s heart rate rose exponentially during this time of day. After a few minutes and a lot of pacing, he retreated into his office to render the first, successful model of time travel.”

As the hologram sharpened, showing Mr. Stark in the middle of washing dishes, Peter inhaled through his teeth. “I don’t know. I really shouldn’t be looking through these.”

“You were looking at the first successful model’s creation for intellectual purposes. Is that correct, Peter?”

“Yes.”

“From my calculations, there is a ninety-seven point five eight percent chance that this is the moment Tony decided to try inventing time travel. If that is true, it would be better for your education purposes to see what motivates an inventor.”

The boy gritted his teeth. He really wanted to see it. It was like going back in time to see Archimedes exclaim, “Eureka!” for the first time. That, and Peter had never seen Tony wash the dishes before. “What are the chances Mr. Stark is ok with me seeing this?”

“Ninety-nine point nine percent. Should I play the hologram?”

“Ninety-nine?” Peter asked.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Huh.” Peter crossed his arms. “Ok, but we’re turning it off after this one, ok? No more memories or holograms for me. Not today.”

“Of course, Peter.”

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever it was. Maybe it was Pepper who convinced him to try it. Maybe Happy had called him. Or even Morgan. She could’ve asked about Mr. Rogers and that could’ve made Mr. Stark want to invent time travel.

“Ok,” Peter said. “For… intellectual purposes. Play it, Friday.”

The sound of water hitting porcelain filled the room. Tony was washing a dish in the sink. However, his mind must’ve been occupied, thoughts of time travel or the Avengers maybe, because he forgot to turn the water off. So, water sprayed on the shelves, wetting clean, dry glasses, some decorative pots, and two picture frames.

Peter looked at the shelves. A picture of a smaller Tony, maybe when he was ten or so, at a science conference or fair. Behind him were three people. His mother was crouched down next to him, holding him tightly. Peter vaguely recognized the other woman. He’d seen her pictures at Shield. She had brown curls, and her smile, though faint, was filled with pride. Then, there was a man next to her, and Peter knew who that was immediately. Edwin Jarvis. The man behind the first AI and part of Vision.

Peter smiled. It was nice to know that Mr. Stark had amazing parental figures in his life. Out of everyone, he deserved it. Just as Peter was going to examine the second picture, Mr. Stark’s hologram reached through him and grabbed it, drying the wet picture frame with a towel.

“Tony’s heart rate reached its peak here,” Friday stated.

“Here?” Even though Mr. Stark was just a hologram, Peter scrambled to look over the taller man’s shoulder without disturbing the image. “Wait, what was the picture of?” Pepper? Morgan? Happy? Rhodes? Maybe Vision? A group picture of the Avengers? Unable to see it past Tony’s hologram, Peter whined, “Wait, Friday, pause the hologram.”

“Of course, Peter.”

The hologram paused. Mr. Stark was holding up the picture frame, frozen.

Peter let out a sigh of relief. He tiptoed around Mr. Stark and looked at the picture.

“Wait.” He blinked and rubbed his eyes. However, it was the same picture he saw before. But, how could it be? He pinched himself, but no, he was awake. Peter rubbed his eyes again. The picture remained.

The teenage boy tilted his head and let out a breath. “How-” He gulped. “That’s me? How is that me?”

“Tony and you took pictures when you confided in him that people didn’t believe-”

“No, uh, Friday, I know when the picture was taken.” He scoffed. “But, why would, I don’t, why would a picture of me convince Mr. Stark to try time travel?” Peter shrugged. “I just-”

“I do believe it’s because Tony cares about you.”

“I know he does,” Peter said. “But I didn’t think-” Peter huffed and crossed his arms. “Wow. I just...” He bowed his head and looked at the picture again, just to make sure. He cared about Mr. Stark. Of course, he did. But that was because life or the universe or what-have-you took his father and his uncle away from him. He was a boy who wanted a dad, another role model to look up to, so when Tony found him way back when, he knew he was going to look up to Tony just like he looked up to his father and his uncle.

But, to think Mr. Stark thought of his as a son? As someone to care for, and maybe fight for? That was almost unthinkable. Mr. Stark is a certified genius, graduated from MIT, a superhero, a former CEO, a proud husband, and a loving father to his daughter. Why would he even bother caring about some kid from Queens?

Peter didn’t realize he was crying until something wet hit his hand. He sniffed and tried to take deep breaths.

“Hey, kid.”

Friday shut off the holograms.

“Is Morgan down for her nap?”

Peter held his breath. Mr. Stark had just come back home.

Without another thought, he hugged him.

“Woah, Peter? Hey, what’s going on?”

Peter only let out a small whine and buried his head deeper into Tony’s embrace.

Tony dropped everything and wrapped his arms around his kid. “Hey, it’s ok. You’re ok.” He tentatively tucked Peter’s head under his chin and held him close. He inhaled slowly and steadily. “You’re ok,” Tony repeated. “I’m right here.” He patted Peter’s back.

With a nod at the stair, Friday understood and typed a message in the air. Morgan Stark is napping in her bedroom. Would you like me to send a camera up there?

Tony shook his head. He was good. His daughter was safe and sound and in bed, and Peter was just having a bit of a crying spell. But he was going to be ok. Everything was going to be ok. Tony closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and hugged Peter even tighter. “You’re good, kid.”

Peter nodded. He pulled away and sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Tony asked. Morgan was fine, so that means something in the house could’ve broken. Wasn’t that big of a deal. He could always replace it. “Kid, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yeah, I do.” He sniffed. “I looked at the holograms, and I saw some pictures.” His lip trembled. “I’m sorry.”

Tony tilted his head. “Hey, it’s ok.” Tony scanned the room, and he took a seat so he could see Peter, eye to eye. “Why are you sorry about that?”

“I invaded your privacy.”

Tony almost laughed. Instead, he just smiled. “Pete, kid, that’s ok. You didn’t invade my privacy.” He scoffed. “You really think Friday allows just anyone to access the holograms?”

Peter wiped his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Tony rubbed Peter’s shoulders. “Happy would kill me if he could see all of them. Security breaches everywhere.” He smiled. “You got nothing to worry about. And you can look at any holograms you want, ok?”

Peter nodded.

“Ok, Peter?”

“Ok.”

“There we go.” Tony sighed. “Now, let’s wipe those tears, ok?” He reached over the table to grab a tissue and handed it to Peter. “Your aunt’s gonna have my head is she knows you cried.”

Peter laughed. He blew his nose, and when it was obvious he needed more tissues, Tony grabbed the entire box and gave it to Peter. “Feeling better, kid?”

“Mhm.” Peter wiped his eyes and blew his nose again.

“Cool.” Tony slapped his thighs and got up. “So, tell me, how was my other kid today?”

“Great.” Peter smiled. “She actually helped me. When I got stuck to the ceiling.”

“Stuck?” Tony poured Peter a glass of water. “Feeling ok today?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just, you know, anxiety.”

“Been there.” He put the glass down in front of Peter. “She helped you?”

The boy giggled. “She made a pile of stuffed animals for me to land on.”

Tony laughed. “Now, you’re really part of the family. It’s official. Morgan never lets anyone touch those things.”

“Yeah.” Peter gulped down some water and sighed. His throat definitely felt a lot better. “Actually,” he blushed a little, “uh, Morgan, she called me, while I was stuck, she called me her brother?” He lifted the glass to his lips again.

Tony nodded. “Well, she asked for a brother a few years back.” The genius went to the sink and picked up a sponge. “Told her about you.” He started to scrub the dishes. “So it makes sense.”

Peter sputtered. “You what?”

Tony laughed. “You’ve gotta stop being surprised.” He shrugged. “You’re family, Pete. You and your Aunt May. Always welcome here.” Tony smiled at Peter, and the boy couldn’t have been happier.

He and his aunt were always family. But expanding it? It didn’t sound bad. Amazing even. Peter sipped his water again. Mr. Stark considers him family. He’s a part of the Stark family. If you had told ten-year-old Peter this, he probably would’ve fainted. In fact, Peter was feeling faint in that moment.

Still, he gulped down his excitement and managed to say one word. “Cool.” His voice cracked.

Tony suppressed his giggle and nodded. “Yeah. Definitely cool.”

[currently-in-fanfiction-hell]

Days at the Hunter Base, CHAPTER 3: GAME ON! (Originally from my Quotev account)

Axl was bored.

Well, it was to be expected, with no Maverick incidents around, he was bound to be bored, while he did think that it was nice that Maverick Hunter HQ was quiet for once, he also found it quite...well, boring.

He'd go to the training room sometimes and fight against old Mavericks, but after a while to him it had the same entertainment value and skill needed to watch paint dry.

Occasionally, he'd use his A-Trans ability to take the form of X or Zero in an attempt to confuse and prank the two, but it stopped being fun when they learned how to figure out it was him, the joke lost its charm quickly.

Needless to say, when there weren't any Mavericks around, there wasn't a lot to do around HQ.

But then, a conversation with X and Zero immediately fixed this problem.

"Y'know, Axl, you haven't really been acting like yourself recently." X said, "is there anything going on?"

"Yeah, Axl," Zero nodded his head in agreement, "Normally you'd be pretty...active around HQ, but these days you seem to be quieter than usual, and, since we're talking about you here, well, I'm a little concerned." He smirked, X let out a poorly muffled laugh.

"Yeah, I'm fine, it's just..." Axl paused.

"It's just what?" X asked.

"It's just that I've been pretty bored lately, there haven't been any big missions lately, and there isn't a whole lot to do, so..."

"...So you've been really jaded recently, is that it?" Zero concluded.

"Yeah...that's basically it." Axl said, "Now I really don't know what to do and it's just... bothering me." He looked down, he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand the boredom, He just wanted to do something.

He waited for a response, and when he didn't get one, he looked at X to find that he was deep in thought, after a while, X came up with a solution.

"What about going outside? If you can't find anything to do inside Hunter Base, then why don't you try to find something to do outside Hunter Base? That's what I do most of the time."

Axl's eyes lit up like a candle, instantly bringing back the energetic Axl everyone knew, "That's a great idea! Thanks, X! I'm heading out now!"

And with that, he sprinted out of the door.

"Well, that seemed to solve his problem quickly." Zero remarked.

"Yeah, let's just hope that things don't get out of hand." X joked, they both shared a good laugh.

_______________________________________________

Shortly after his chat with X and Zero, Axl arrived at an arcade in a local shopping plaza, he'd never been to an arcade before, but he'd heard a fair amount about them thanks to Palette, who seemed to go to one every now and then.

While he knew that there were a lot of games in an arcade, he wasn't expecting THIS much.

Come to think about it, Pallette never told me about the kinds of games they had in here. Axl thought, all of the arcade machines looked foreign to him, Rhythm games, Claw machines, Street Brawler, and... Dance Dance Robo-lution? Sounds interesting. He thought to himself.

All of these games looked fun to him, but he had a hard time choosing, finally, he settled on trying out Dance Dance Robo-lution first.

He stepped on the platform connected to the arcade machine, energetic music started playing, and on-screen he saw arrows rising up from below going to the top of the screen, they disappeared once they overlapped with arrows of the same type above, marked as a "miss".

"A miss?" Axl thought, he looked below him, the platform he was standing on had arrows, just like those on the screen.

Suddenly, it made sense, it wouldn't be called "Dance Dance Robo-lution" if there wasn't, well, dancing.

He began to move his feet and step on the arrows according to the ones on-screen, he figured that the closer they were to the arrows on top, the better his score would be.

"GOOD!"

"GREAT!'

"PERFECT!"

"MARVELOUS!"

By the end of the game, he did surprisingly good, despite the major mistakes in the beginning.

"Phew!" Axl wiped sweat off of his face, "That was actually kinda fun!"

"Hey, Axl! Didn't expect to see you here!" A familliar voice came from behind.

Axl turned around, seeing an equally familliar face, "Oh, hey Palette! I was just bored and decided to check out the arcade, you keep on talking about them, after all! I just finished up a round of Dance Dance Robo-lution, I think I did pretty good, whaddaya think?"

Palette stepped closer to examine the screen, "Pffft, you scored a B? Good, maybe, but nowhere near impressive, move aside."

"Wha-?"

Palette shoved him off the platform and started the same level up, "Watch this." She winked.

Axl watched very intensely, the longer she played, the wider his eyes became.

Every movement Pallette made was very precise, and, the more he watched, the more he couldn't believe it.

She hadn't made a single mistake.

By the end of the game, Axl's jaw dropped to the ground.

She managed to get a perfect score.

Palette stepped down from the platform, smiling as she noticed the face of a very shocked Axl.

"So? What'cha think, Axl? Is that impressive or what?" She grinned.

Axl still was trying to recover from his shock, he was lost for words, "Y-y-you wha-? H-how-"

"Relax," Palette put an arm around him, "It took me ages to ace that level, wanna try some other things around here?"

"O-okay..." Axl said, slowly beginning to calm down, "What about that machine over there?"

He pointed to another arcade machine across them, it was a drum-themed rhythm game.

"Sweet! Heheh, Palette, professional drummer, prepared to take the spotlight!" Pallette beamed.

"Heh, we'll see about that," Axl smirked, "Prepare to get your butt kicked!"

They rushed to the nearby machine, going one-on-one, the competition was intense, as the beat got faster, they were getting more and more tense, the sticks on their hands hitting the drums harder and harder, their eyes narrowing closer and closer to the screen-

Finally, the tension broke, the screen rallying up their scores...

P1: RANK A

P2: RANK AA

Axl's screen showered with confetti, the young Hunter raised his arms up in celebration.

"YES!" Axl cheered.

"What?!" Palette gawked in disbelief, "I was so close!!" She pounded her fists on the drums, "How'd you do that?"

Axl beamed, "Heh, I have a few tricks up my sleeve..." By "tricks", he meant sneaking out Red's old drum kit back in his days at Red Alert for secret practice sessions, but hey, Palette didn't need to know, did she?

"Anyways..." he continued, "what about that claw machine over there?"

"A claw machine?!" Palette panicked, "Axl, that's a bad idea, don't-" it was too late, Axl had already sprinted ahead and plopped a Zenny coin inside the machine.

Palette rushed up to him, "Axl, this is a bad idea, it's a claw machine, you're basically paying for nothing!" She pleaded.

"Pfft, what's so bad about a claw machine? All you need to do is grab a toy like so and-"

Plop.

The toy that Axl had successfully grabbed had fallen back down the moment the crane reached the top.

"What?!" Axl frowned, stomping his foot in defeat.

"See? I told you so, here, let me try." She flicked another Zenny coin into the machine.

"And who was the one who said that this was a bad idea?" Axl teased.

"Shut up, this is a matter of personal pride now." Palette snapped, keeping her eyes on the crane, she successfully picked up a toy.

Plop.

It dropped back into the pile.

She placed another coin inside.

"Y'know, you're starting to sound a lot like Zero now." Axl smirked again.

"Stop teasing me, I'm trying to focus here." Palette grumbled, visibly annoyed.

Plop.

This time it dropped the moment she grabbed it.

"UGH! WHY DOES THIS MACHINE KEEP DOING THIS TO ME?!" Palette whined, banging her fists on ths glass of the machine.

"Y'know what? Let me try." Axl stepped forward and flicked another Zenny coin into this demon of a claw machine.

He focused his eyes on the crane in front of him, attempt after attempt, the toy kept on falling, after several more rounds of grumbling and screams of pure agony, they definitely had an audience watching them now.

Axl looked at his free hand, one last Zenny coin, reluctantly, he slid it inside, hoping for the best.

Eyes were watching closely and intensely, his own staring at the crane, as if he had telekenisis of some sort, c'mon, move! And don't drop! He said in his mind, knowing that the claw machine wouldn't listen.

The machine successfully managed to grab a stuffed rabbit out of the pile, grabbing it by the ear.

The crane moved closer and closer to the tube, he was nearly there-

Plop.

A few moments later, A small, white bunny came out of the claw machine.

He did it.

He actually did it.

Cheers and applause from humans and Reploids alike roared in the background, it was almost deafening.

"You did it, Axl!" Palette exclaimed, "I never thought this would happen, but it did!"

"What? I'm sorry, Palette, I can't hear you!"

...

A few moments later, after the crowd had quietened and broken up, Axl and Palette walked out of the arcade.

"Well... that was... something." Palette grinned, "What did you think of your first arcade experience, Axl?" She asked.

"I thought it was pretty great!" Axl grinned back. "Except for the part where I went broke trying to grab a bunny, but hey, at least I got something!" He beamed.

"Hey, you started it!" Palette playfully nudged him on the shoulder.

"And you insisted to keep going." He smirked back.

"Ugh, I hate it when you're right." She groaned, "But you're right, it was fun."

She looked at the stuffed rabbit in his arms, "Have you figured out what to name it yet?" She asked enthusiastically.

"Oh, this?" Axl looked down, staring at the rabbit with it's cute pink bow, "I dunno, here, you get to keep it." He tossed it over to Pallette, who thankfully managed to catch it.

"Well, if you say so..." she paused, "I guess I'll call it Fluffkins..."

"Aw, c'mon, that's all you could think of?" Axl frowned.

"What? Do you have a better name?" She smirked.

"What about something like, Ms. Hopps the 3rd?" He grinned, they both burst out in laughter, "No way I'm calling her that." Palette chuckled.

"..."

"..."

'Hey, Palette?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we could do this again sometime?"

"Sure! But don't expect me to go easy on you just because you got me Fluffkins!"

"Oh, you're on!"

_______________________________________________

(Author's Notes): This was definitely the most fun chapter to write so far! Axl may not be my favorite, but I still love him and this was interesting to write.

The entire chapter was inspired by the scene in the arcade in "Puella Magi Madoka Magica", where the character Kyoko has a conversation with Homura while playing what appears to be Dance Dance Revolution, the entire chapter idea kinda morphed on it's own after that.

I hope you enjoyed it! There's definitely more coming up, so stay tuned!

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Stalkers and Masks

Septics Inverted

A JSE Fanfic

These are two moments that I really wanted to address, but I felt both were too short for their own story. So I took one and made it a framing device for the other. One’s about Stacy and what she’s going through, and the other is about Marvin and one of his problems. Ehhh, probably not my best work but I’ve done these two plot points all the justice I can.

Read the intro story: Part One | Part Two

Various other AU-related stuff found here

Taglist: @evyptids​ @awkward-bullshit​ @watermelonsinmyattic​ @asunachinadoll @a-humble-narcissus @metautske​ @odysseus-is-best-boi​ @acuriousquail @beerecordings

Stacy liked to think that her computer was secure. She kept up-to-date on her antivirus software, didn’t give trust anything that asked for her security information, and kept her passwords on a sheet of paper in her nightstand drawer instead of anywhere digitally that could be hacked. However, she quickly learned that all these precautions were for naught when it came to the living glitch who decided he wanted to check on her every ten hours or so. She’d be browsing the Internet and suddenly the webpage would freak out. That didn’t mean she was being hacked (actually, technically she was) it just meant Anti decided to pop in.

Honestly, she was starting to warm up to him. Maybe that was because he hadn’t showed up in person for the last week so she didn’t have to deal with his personality. Occasionally she’d get an email or text from a blocked user, asking her how life was, if she was safe. And, well, life was better. She’d gotten a new job at a department store with better pay. The hours were good too, now she had time to spend with her kids and also get enough sleep. Things in the city seemed to have calmed down, in that there was less death and disappearance on the news.

But...something was off. There were times when she was out and about, driving the kids to places or running errands on her own, when she felt like someone was watching her. When she looked around, she usually didn’t see anyone. But there were times when she thought she saw...him. To the point where it was starting to freak her out.

One night, after putting the kids to bed, she sat down at her computer and typed a simple phrase into Google: “how to tell if someone is stalking me.” Immediately, the page froze. She hit enter several times, trying to search, but a strange, rapid staticky beeping just came out from her speakers. And it was that moment when she realized it wasn’t just something wrong with her Internet.

A fizzing of pixels later, Anti was sitting on her desk, legs dangling off the side. “What are you, seven?” she asked before her brain could catch up with her mouth.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Anti said. “So what’s up with that search?”

“Are you spying on me whenever I use Google?”

“No, I just installed a program to let me know when certain words were searched. Such as ‘stalk’ or ‘stalking.’” His eye narrowed. “So? What’s the deal? Is it him?”

“I’m...not sure,” Stacy said slowly. “Sometimes I think I see him, other times I just get a...a vague sort of sense that...someone’s watching me. It’s probably nothing, I’m probably just being stupid, but...better safe than sorry, y’know?”

“Definitely, especially considering they could be magically tracking you.”

Stacy gaped at him and his nonchalant statement. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, you were there that night at the diner. You saw that magic was real. Didn’t you think something like that was possible?”

“No, I didn’t.” Stacy leaned back in her swivel chair. “I guess it never occurred to me that that was a-a possibility. I didn’t know the rules for this sort of thing. Sorry, I should have thought—I should have known.”

Anti stared at her, then glitched off the desk and into a standing position. “No, you really shouldn’t have, because nobody told you. It’s not your fault, so don’t assume it is. I could possibly give you a brief overview, let you know what you’re in danger of.”

“Oh! Th-thank you!” Stacy hadn’t realized she was apologizing for things that weren’t her fault. Force of habit, she assumed. She looked at the computer screen, where her question still lingered, unsearched, in the search bar. “Do you think...I-I mean, I know Chase doesn’t have any magic, unless he does and I didn’t know, so...are they teaming up?”

Anti considered this. “Probably. Your ex and the magician aren’t on the best terms, but they’re civil. You’d be in more danger of having the doctor or the vigilante stalking you for him, those guys are closer.”

For some reason, that simple statement made dread pool in her stomach. “H-how many of them are there again?”

“Five.”

“And...and they could all help Ch—help him follow me?”

“Mmm, probably.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Stacy sat on her hands to keep them from shaking. She’d never done anything in her life to warrant so many enemies. And, if she remembered correctly, these guys were responsible for most of the current chaos and terror in the city. She worked hard to take deep, controlled breaths. “Do you...do you have any, uh, um, any info on these guys I could see? You’re all computery, do you have files on them or something?”

“I do. But you don’t want the full files, you’ll lose sleep. I can maybe give you some edited versions...” Anti’s head tilted to one side. He stared intently at her computer screen. She watched as her browser closed and her file explorer opened. By itself, the computer navigated to the downloads folder, then five new folders appeared, each one labeled with a name, followed by (edit).

“Huh...that’s handy.” Stacy scooted her chair closer to the desk, grabbing the mouse. She stared at the folder with his name on it for a while, but she couldn’t bring herself to click on it. Instead, she clicked on the next one down, opening up the folder to reveal various .txt files.

“There used to be photos and videos in here,” Anti said, peering over her shoulder.

“Why’d you remove them?”

“How squeamish are you?”

“I mean...my daughter broke her arm once. It was all bent but I could look at it.”

“I probably made a good call then.” Anti pointed at one of the files, and it opened up. “Brief overview: guy’s a doctor. Not really, ‘cause he got booted from medical school for maltreatment. Didn’t stop him from faking graduation, getting a job at a hospital, and then stealing the patients who wouldn’t be missed.”

“This sounds like the backstory of a horror movie villain,” Stacy laughed nervously.

Anti didn’t laugh. “I’m sure the patients thought they were stuck in a horror movie.” He gave Stacy a dead-eye stare until her smile faded. Then he turned back to the screen. “Police in his home country found out. He ran, ending up here. Started a nice little black-market clinic and kept up his hobby.”

“You know I think I’ll read this one later, when it’s lighter outside.” Stacy hurried to click out of the folder. She opened up the next one instead. This one had videos as well as text files. “...should I be worried about these?” she asked, circling one of the videos with the mouse.

“Nothing explicit, just violence like you’d see in a movie. Criminals get the shit beat out of them. The works.”

“Wait...this is for that vigilante, isn’t it? The one on the news?” Stacy looked at the folder name. “That’s his real—”

“Yep. So if you see a guy who looks like this—” He opened one of the videos, fast forwarding until he got to a good image of the vigilante’s face. “—and he introduces himself to you as that, you better run. Actually, don’t, he’s probably faster than you. Distract him until you can sneak away.”

“He can’t be that bad, can he?” Stacy asked, skeptical. “I mean...getting rid of the criminals in the city? It’s like a real-life superhero.”

“Well, superheroes don’t beat confessions out of mob members and then murder them. He’s probably the safest to have a conversation with, though. Assuming you haven’t done anything illegal.”

“O-kay...then...” Stacy was starting to realize just how deep this trouble she was in really was. She could feel the beginnings of panic edging in on her, but she pushed it away. She’d let herself freak out later. “Wh-what about that magician guy? I think you called him Marvin in the diner? Can he really...magically track me?”

“Probably.” Anti closed the vigilante’s folder and opened up the magician’s. There were a lot of images in this one, what looked like pictures of pages from books. “I’ve been trying to keep track of the spells he knows, but it can be difficult. There’s a good chance he knows a tracking spell, but he probably wouldn’t use it unless someone, like your ex, asked him to.”

“...do I want to know why?”

“Eh, he doesn’t really care for spells like that. If they can’t produce effects he can see, he won’t use them unless necessary. He’s a flashy bitch like that. Has a style and sticks to it. Like that cape, which he only takes off maybe one day per week, and that mask, which I actually haven’t seen him take off yet.”

“Really? Never? Not even to sleep or take a shower or anything?”

“Sleeps with it on. And I’m don’t know about that shower thing, I didn’t put a camera in their bathroom.”

Stacy briefly wondered if his knowledge about sleeping with the mask meant he’d put cameras in the bedrooms, but she pushed that out of her mind for now. “Why? Seems uncomfortable...”

Anti laughed. “Well, a long time ago, he tried a spell he wasn’t ready for, and it blew up in his face. I’m pretty sure he’s embarrassed about what it looks like underneath there...”

“Schneep! I know for a fact you’re in there!” Marvin banged on the door. When there was still no answer, he sighed, looking around the reception room of the clinic where he was standing. He didn’t like this place. It was that kind of almost-nice that looked like it was trying to fool you into thinking it was less shady than it actually was. The good doctor really needed to upgrade his decor.

Having enough of contemplating his dislike of this place, Marvin turned back to the door and started banging harder. “Hey doc! I’m not against melting your door down if you don’t come out in the next thirty seconds!”

The door flung open, and Marvin barely jumped out of the way in time to avoid getting a whack to the face. Schneep poked his head out. He was wearing his mask, which he proceeded to pull down in order to scowl at Marvin. “There is no need for such a commotion, my friend!” he scolded. “I was in one of the back rooms, I did not hear you for a while and then it took me a tick-tock to get here.”

“Whatever. Get a security camera wired up here, or a buzzer or something. I could’ve been a customer who just decided to take business elsewhere.”

Schneep barked out a laugh. “If people come here, it is not because they have options to take business to. But enough of this, what did you want?”

Marvin shifted on his feet. “I...need you to take a look at something.”

“Oh, is that all?” A wave of relief crossed Schneep’s face. He stepped back, opening the door wide enough for Marvin to pass through. “Come in, come in, I can see what it is back here.”

Marvin let Schneep lead him into the operating part of the clinic, but he refused to sit down on the table. “It seems not so serious, so if you would please wait a moment while I take care of this...” Schneep vanished through one of the metal doors leading deeper into the building, leaving Marvin to tap his feet impatiently. He didn’t like this. First of all, this place looked like it was thrown together, and also needed an upgrade. Second of all, he was already having doubts about this, he didn’t want them to have time to fester.

Schneep reemerged, tossing an empty syringe on a nearby tray. “There we are, we will not be disturbed now,” he said. “What is it you need help with?”

Marvin started fidgeting, pulling on his fingers. “Okay. So. I am—look, I’m trusting you with this. You can’t tell anyone, alright?”

“That is no problem.”

“I’m serious. I will literally put a fucking curse on you if I find out you told anyone.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve been working on one that can make it feel like pins are being shoved in your eyes whenever you look at something, and that something can be as vague as a specific color. Y’know, like the literal version of ‘cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.’”

“Now you are going overboard with this. I have no intention of telling anyone whatever it is this is about. This secret of yours is safe with me.”

Marvin exhaled slowly, and looked toward the ceiling. “Okay. Okay, good. Fuck. Here goes nothing.” Before he could change his mind, he reached up and undid the straps of his mask, then pulled it off. He slowly looked back towards the doctor.

Schneep’s eyes were wide. He stepped forward until he was uncomfortably close to Marvin. He raised his hand. “May I...?”

Marvin hesitated. “...fine,” he grumbled. “But take off your gloves, they’re still messy. And be careful.”

The doctor pulled off his gloves, then put his hands on either side of Marvin’s head, turning it from side to side so he could get a better look. “My god,” he muttered. “What happened to you?”

“That’s not your fucking business,” Marvin said through gritted teeth. “But they’ve been...itching for a while now, and I’m wondering if they’re infected or something.”

“I would be surprised if they were not. They look...angry.” Schneep’s eyebrows furrowed. “How old are they?”

“I think about...four years at this point?” Marvin started turning his mask over in his hands. It was hard to remember sometimes.

“Really? I would think only a couple months.”

“Doc, I’ve been living with you for two years and haven’t once taken off my mask. You didn’t think there was a reason for that?”

“Ah yes.” Tentatively, Schneep reached out and tapped Marvin in the middle of his forehead. “What is this?”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Marvin yanked his head back.

“Excuse me, I am concerned! That looks like bone!”

“It’s not bone, it’s just—making my first mask out of ceramic was a really bad idea, ‘cause even magically-enhanced pottery can still shatter.”

“Why do you have ceramic embedded in your face?!”

Marvin resisted the urge to touch the places where the shards had ended up lodging. He had them memorized by now, mostly because of the dead spot in his nerves there. Forehead, upper cheeks, one between his nose and left eye, one above his right. He could have dealt with the rest of the scars, if only the shards weren’t there. “Look, I was wearing my old mask at the time this happened, it broke, I ended up getting pieces of porcelain fucking stuck to my face, can we move on?!”

Schneep raised his hands in surrender, stepping back. “Okay, okay, fine!”

“Thank you.” Marvin began spinning his mask around his pointer finger, using one of the eyeholes. “Anyway, can you tell if they’re infected? And can you help if they are?”

Schneep bit his lip, eyes scanning the damage. “Well, I would have to know what caused them. They look a bit like burns, but in the pattern of knife slashes. Like hot glass.”

“What?”

“Bits of broken glass, heated up so they will burn, flung at your face. That’s what it looks like. There are also parts where I am reminded of Lichtenburg figures.”

“What?” Marvin repeated, exasperated.

“When things are struck by high voltage, patterns will appear. These are not quite the same as scars of lightning, they are...bigger. But I am reminded of them.”

Marvin sighed. “You know what? Let’s just work under the assumption that someone took a hot, electrified knife and repeatedly applied it to my face, that’s probably as accurate as you’re going to get. There might also be some lingering traces of magic in there.”

Schneep rolled his eyes. “Well, I cannot do anything about that, but if they are itching and irritating you, I have some salves that may help. They are in the other back room, the storage one, if you would kindly follow me.”

“Alright, alright, but I hope you find this stuff quickly. Chase is making me watch his ex for him, and I don’t feel like getting into a shouting match with him over not actually doing it.”

It was around midnight when Stacy decided to go to bed. She’d tried to read through the file Anti had given her on the magician, but had to stomp halfway through. Some of these spells...why would anyone want to use spells like that? Instead, she switched to reading the vigilante’s file, managing to finish it. Then she realized it was way too late, and she had to get up early to make breakfast for the kids, get ready for work, take the kids to school, and go to work herself. That was only four things, but that was too much.

She was walking down the hall to her room when there was a knock on the front door.

Fear jolted through her. Who could be knocking this late at night? Nobody good, probably. She stood shock-still in the hallway, waiting for something else. When nothing happened, she swallowed her nerves and crept toward the living room and the front door. Maybe it was nothing?

When she flipped the lights on, the front room looked exactly the same as it had earlier that day. Except for one thing: there was now a brown envelope sitting on the floor, in the perfect position to have been pushed through the mail slot. Stacy slowly stepped forward. She peered through the peephole on the door, seeing nothing on the other side. So she looked down at the envelope on the floor, then bent over and picked it up. She turned it over in her hands.

There were words written on the back of the envelope. “Hello sweetheart.”

Stacy recognized that handwriting.

She collapsed on the couch, staring at the envelope, listening to her heart pounding in her ears.

He’d found her.